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kookslastbutton · 12 days

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Guilty Pleasures ༓ jjk, kth (m) | chapter iii

✑ Summary: Three years of being Seoul's power couple earns you nothing but a big fat divorce settlement and your face plaster on every gossip column around town. You're angry, hurt, and desperately want to move on, but worst of all? You're still in love with the man who started the whole mess, even though the most he can ever see you as is a friend. The renowned actor you've hired to be your company's new endorser seems to have a soft spot for you though. He's easy on the eyes, you'll admit, but who actually wants a divorcee like yourself? It's unrealistic really.

pairing: ex-husband ceo!jungkook x ceo!reader, actor!taehyung x ceo!reader (not poly)

genre/AU: angst, smut, fluff, loverstoexesto ?, coworkers2?, unrequited love

Word count: 5.3k+

Warnings: some time skips (none too huge), oc and jk are both 30, Taehyung is 32, swearing, lots of introspection, tornado of emotions, morally grey characters, mentions of toxic relationships, mentions of broken home/families, themes of abandonment, mention of love bombing, reoccurring nightmares, sleep paralysis, mentions of therapy, struggles of self-blame, regret, guilt, etc., mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of sexism in the media and business world, death (minor character), life-threatening accident (major character)

playlist: Unkiss Me, Apologize, Hate That I Love You, etc.

a/n: ANGST ANGST ANGST...don't say I never warned you hahaha. Anyway, once again, I had an amazing time writing this! (although nervous af 👉🏼 👈🏼) Just FYI, there are some time skips as this starts a few weeks after the gala! So to clarify, it’s now 3 months since oc’s divorce was officially finalized, as in done (the process itself took way longer). The chapter continues from there and yeah, the pace is picked up. Okay, let’s go! Enjoy! 🥰

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Fresh linen. Warm breeze. The smell and sound of the ocean.

You know this place too well, like a memory you hoped to have forgotten. Why are you here now? You glance around, taking in the familiar details—the blank ceiling above, the soft comforter that curls around your body like silk against your skin, and delicate rose petals scattered at the foot of the bed. It’s exactly as it was before — it feels exactly the same; too quiet, too peaceful, and too good to be true.

The sunlight streaming through the window is blinding, yet it draws you in with a force you can't resist. Carefully, you stand up, your feet meeting the cool wood floor, and you shiver. Each step you take towards the window feels heavier, like wading through water. When you reach the window, you see the sandy beach below, the waves beating rhythmically against the shore. It’s beautiful, but the painful kind.

To the left, a young couple, not much older than yourself, their hands tightly intertwined, as if afraid to let go. To the right, an older couple sitting further up the beach, comfortably silent as they take in the horizon, reminiscent of their many years together. You always dreamt of achieving the latter, yet here you stand, having neither, and the chances of ever obtaining it growing dimmer with each passing day.

For many, this was supposed to be a place of happiness, a symbol of love, promises, and new beginnings, but not for you. For you, it was a cocoon, trapping you in a deceptive comfort. You close your eyes, trying to steady your rapid breathing, yet it doesn’t prove to be of much help. Images from your past that you’ve tried blocking out of your mind time and time again suddenly resurface — the arguments, the tears, the feeling of everything and nothing at the same time.

“You’re up early,” His voice startles you, causing you to spin around in a panic. At that moment, your heart tightens in your chest, and a cold sweat forms on your brow. You thought you were alone. You’re certain of it. Yet the sight of your ex-husband standing only a few feet away, his hair still damp from his morning shower, is enough to leave you completely speechless.

"Why are you here?" you whisper, your voice trembling.

"Why are you here?" he counters, his dark eyes piercing into yours. "Isn't this what you wanted? To remember us, to remember how it felt to be together?”

What? This isn't making any sense. Why is he talking to you as if he were a ghost? Your eyes search frantically around the room until you spot it—the wedding band on his finger. No, not again. You hear yourself plead, but the words don't leave your lips. All at once, the room begins to feel smaller, the walls closing in on you. You're stuck in another manifestation of your past, this time reliving your honeymoon, three years ago in Greece.

"I didn't want this," you say, your voice barely audible. "I wanted to forget this."

"But you can't forget, can you?" he says, stepping closer. “You remember this view. You remember the floors and the walls. You remember that we had our first time together here and promised our devotion to each other."

“That’s not fair, Jungkook," you reply, taking a step back, "it's not fair at all, you left me. You don't get to patronize me like this."

“We both know our marriage came with stipulations, __. So when did I ever give you a reason to stay? Or to love me?”

You’re back in the bed, the sheets now suffocating rather than comforting. The sound of the ocean is louder, more insistent, drowning out your thoughts. You want to scream, to run, but you’re paralyzed by the fear, the guilt, the regret.

"This isn’t real,” you say to yourself, tears streaming down your face. “I’m dreaming, none of this is happening.”

“You can't escape what we had, or what we lost. We’ll always be here, together __, in this place,” he says softly, reaching out to touch your hand.

"No," you whisper, pulling your hand away. "I need to wake up. I need to let go...of you."

The room fades, his figure dissolving into the shadows. The sound of the ocean becomes a distant murmur as you fight to open your eyes. Wake up, please wake up. It's your own pleads chanting in your head. Finally, with a gasp, you awake, the nightmare diminishing like vapor.

“Fuck,” you curse, fingers gripping your sheets, “just another damn dream.” Rolling onto your back, you take a deep breath before reaching out for the glass of water on your nightstand. Its coolness soothes your dry throat. You reach for your phone next, checking the time—4:47 AM. Too early to start the day, too late to attempt falling back to sleep.

Your thumb hovers over Jimin’s name in your text threads. It would be 10 AM where he is. You consider sending a message, but you find yourself at a loss for words. Forget it, you lock your phone and rise from your bed, you’ll go for a walk instead. Yeah, it’s brisk outside, but the fresh air will help clear your mind.

After tossing on your warmest coat and scarf, you head outside, the sun beginning to break over the horizon. At first, you wander aimlessly, lost in thought as you pass the odd person or two on the sidewalk. One individual accidentally knocks into you, yet he's quick to apologize. You easily understand their rush; perhaps they've just finished the night shift and are eager to reach the comfort of home.

You imagine their loved ones who must be waiting for them. You could be wrong, and maybe you're biased, but the image you depict is a future you once envisioned for yourself—one of laughter, love, and a warm family. It’s a dream you secretly carried as a child, amidst your unstable upbringing. But as the years passed, what was once a lifelong aspiration felt more and more elusive, slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. It seems, in the end, it was just a dream…nothing more.

Of course, you've achieved other goals instead, success in your career for one. It's what you wanted most the more you became an adult. Even before Jungkook came in the picture you were thriving. Yes, you needed investors to expand, but you had already made a strong name for yourself, hence the reason his company even reached out to you for a partnership in the first place.

The second, and more formidable goal you’ve achieved was saving your company. You built your business with an earnest heart, good morals, and an ambition to serve a community. You couldn’t let it all be washed out by a larger, greedier industry giant. You had to do something. Too bad your judgment was skewed the day you saw a similar ambition in Jungkook’s eyes; he was just as determined as you to save what was his.

For a while you got what you wanted, stability for your business. But you got too invested, too short-sighted to anticipate that one day, it would all feel hollow without someone proper to share it with. Alas, your prior hopes, the ones you thought were buried long ago, began returning to you as if they were an overwhelming tsunami.

You wanted warmth.

You wanted intimacy.

You wanted a home.

You sought companionship with Jungkook but no, you read the signs all wrong. Once you dropped the L word, his attentiveness towards you skyrocketed. He began calling you while you were apart, surprising you with little gifts, and setting more time aside so you could both take Bam to the dog park on free days. But then it all stopped. After months of showering you with attention, his efforts exhausted him, so he looked for the first exit out.

You remember getting the text one afternoon— When will you be home tonight? We need to talk about something. Selfishly, you hoped he was going to tell you that you could take that trip to Fiji together. You had been hinting at it for the last two weeks. Of course, you were wrong because the last time you checked, trip itineraries didn’t come with divorce papers. At that moment, you realized that Jungkook didn’t try to love you in the slightest, he tried loving at you; love bombing 101. Your ties are now completely severed.

Yesterday marked three months since your divorce was finalized. You didn’t cry like you thought you would, but you did meet with Melody that day. As your therapist, she offered you her empathy, validation, and perspective. You feel you’ve gotten better since you started meeting with her, finally beginning to heal. Yet the unsettling dream that haunted your sleep last night shows you there are many things still left to resolve, feelings you need to confront, but where to start?

You love your ex-husband, but why?

Can it even be called love?

And do you really need him to love you back?

While you can only offer fragments of an answer for the first two, you seem to have a better-formed answer for the last.

No, you don’t need Jungkook to love you. He’s proven to you time and time again that you are not the one he can bear his heart to. He’s always reiterating that he wants you to find someone else, someone more deserving of you, whatever that means. Likely, it’s all projection. Out of the two of you, he’s the one more likely to re-marry.

As for you, you’ll always love him, at least a semblance of it. After all, he was once a part of you. But what was once a part of you, doesn’t need to be anymore. You have to let him go...though you wish you didn't have to.

You continue walking straight until you find yourself drawn to a small park overlooking the city skyline. It's fairly empty, with only a few people nearby. As you settle onto a weathered bench, you take in the view before you. It stretches endlessly. Sunrises have always held a special place in your heart—the amber glow breaking through the abyss of darkness as if a beacon of hope.

"You'll get through this __," you reassure yourself, “one day at a time.”

“Happy six months, boss!”

A goofy, boxy smile graces the man’s lips as he leans against the doorframe of your office. You take in his appearance: crème-colored sweater paired with dark brown slacks, the fabric impeccably tailored to his tall, lean frame. His ebony hair is perfectly parted down the center and feathered out to either side of his face, giving him a soft, approachable look. The glasses are new though, round with a hint of gold. Though a minor accessory, they seem to tie the rest of the look together.

Classy, yet cozy, you hum silently, it suits him.

Everything about the way he’s dressed today complements his features—not that it could be any other way, as Taehyung could never not look good in something. You learned that the hard way when you opted against a gaudy shirt and pant set your stylists suggested he wear for a commercial. Taehyung, being a free spirit, decided to try it on for kicks, and yeah, it strangely worked. He ended up shooting the entire commercial with it on. That video’s gotten your business the highest engagement rate across all your media platforms to this day.

“Mr. Kim, does six months of working together really merit a celebratory drop-in?” You lean back in your desk chair, arms folded as you narrow your eyes at the man. You're taunting him, not that he minds.

“Please,__,” he starts, stepping further into the room, his presence effortlessly filling the space. “The only person that still calls me that is the intern who works on set with us. Makes me feel old, like I’m double my real age.”

“Well, you are older than both of us.”

Taehyung gives you the look, a mix of amusement and mild aggravation.

“Two years is hardly considered older, but if you’re done trying to prod me, I’d like to ask you a series of serious questions.”

“Okay, what?” You straighten your back, curious to know what he’s thinking.

“Red or white wine?” He waits for your response, eyes seemingly hopeful. You're unsure where he's going with this, so you delay your response, suspicious of the spontaneity of the inquiry.

“Red,” you respond, cautiously. Taehyung seems pleased.

“Strawberries or blueberries?”

“Strawberries, though I prefer cherries most."

“Science or literature?"

"Literature." You surprise him with this one. "I like books, vintage ones."

"Do a lot of reading in your spare time?" he asks.

"When I get some, yes."

"Me too. Tolstoy?"

"Occasionally," you answer. "Where are you going with this, Taehyung?"

He shrugs. "Just making conversation." He pauses before continuing, “I also happen to know a place that offers all those things plus private bookings. How about you and I go for dinner tonight, as colleagues? If you hate the wine, I’ll drink it for you.”

The weight of his request hits you like a ton of bricks. Apart from a handful of social events, you and Taehyung haven't exactly mingled outside of the office. His sudden invitation to go out for dinner takes you by surprise, especially considering the nature of your professional relationship. However, you can't deny the subtle shifts in his behavior, the way he's been checking in on you more often, especially since the Winter Gala. Weeks have passed since then, but, no doubt, the memory of that night still lingers in both your minds—the shaming from a bitter business competitor, the unwanted press shining a light on your divorce, and your ex-husband who so easily approached you like it was nothing.

Taehyung suggested for you to slip away through the back door with him, offering to drive you home himself rather than leaving you with your limo driver. But you declined, feeling embarrassed that he wasn't merely a witness to the night's events, but also made to be a spectacle himself. You never wanted him to feel like he had to pity you or coax you through your personal trials. Being a good colleague is one thing, but he didn't need to go above and beyond.

“I don’t know if I can join you tonight, I'm sorry. I have a lot to do,” you say, your voice wavering slightly. It's not far from the truth with the mountain of business reports and budget plans to look over. Though your business remains functioning, it's a lot to maintain, especially with the number of investors having withdrawn their support once news got out about your marital separation. It's unfortunate how much a person's situation and the things they've built can change on someone else's dime.

“You sure?" Taehyung tries again, careful not to sound pushy. "The place isn’t overly posh, but we could go elsewhere if you’d prefer."

“I’m sorry, Taehyung, maybe another time?” you say, fingers fidgeting with a few documents on your desk, a nervous habit you developed ages ago. “I-"

“I understand,” he says, his expression softening, a hint of disappointment flickering in his eyes before he masks it with a gentle smile. "I have a film shoot that might go late anyway. Speaking of which, I'm expected on set in about half an hour so I'm going to head out, but if you change your mind, you know how to reach me."

You nod, recalling having his contact in your phone. The two of you agreed it would be easier to coordinate meetings and schedules this way. "I will, thank you. Good luck with your filming."

As you watch him leave, a twinge of guilt tugs at your conscience. Perhaps you shouldn't have dismissed him so quickly, considering how insistent he seemed. It's as if he was genuinely looking forward to the affair.

No, you can't entertain it any further. You have no way of knowing how far the night might've led—it's best to leave Kim Taehyung alone.

When you declined Taehyung's invitation to get dinner, you didn’t expect it to result in not seeing or hearing from him for the next week and a half. As an endorser, he doesn't work at the office regularly, coming and going as needed and since you hadn’t had any promotional projects for him recently, his absence seemed normal at first.

But this was Kim Taehyung. The same Taehyung who loved making spontaneous visits to the company, especially towards the end of the week. He often came in once, twice, sometimes three times a week to talk with Namjoon, your secretary, in particular. Somehow, the pair had become friends, and since Namjoon’s desk was near yours, Taehyung would drop by whenever he saw your door open. So, not hearing from him for 11 days straight was strange, like he'd vanished.

It was now Friday evening, the clock pushing 5 pm. You consider texting him to make sure he's okay, but wouldn’t that be hypocritical? You had agreed with yourself to leave him alone. Maybe he was on vacation, perhaps at a vineyard, or had taken on another film project. Being a highly talented actor, Taehyung had no shortage of casting directors contacting him for their movies and TV shows.

Embarrassingly, you hadn’t actually seen any of his movies. You enjoyed a good rom-com now and then, like the ones Taehyung starred in, but you usually opted for something more mindless when you had the time to watch anything.

You can imagine the loyal following he has though, as Taehyung was the epitome of a "dream boat" with his natural good looks and expressive eyes. He must be good at kiss scenes, which must be especially difficult for anyone dating him. You know you'd have a hard time accepting it at least, the fact that your flawless actor boyfriend was off making out with equally beautiful co-stars on set, that is. Anyway, as your endorser, maybe you should try supporting his films a bit more. There had to be one that would catch your eye.

Curious, you open a new tab on your phone and search for him.

"Holy fuck," the curse leaves your lips the minute the search returns. Dozens of articles display on your phone screen at once, all covering South Korean actor Kim Taehyung's recent motorcycle accident. You checked the publishing date—six hours ago. “Taehyung’s in the hospital. He’s in the fucking hospital!”

Panicked, you leave your office to speak with your secretary.

“Ms. __,” Namjoon greets you immediately, a trace of hesitation in his tone upon seeing your frazzled state. “Is everything alright?”

“Joon,” you refer to him by his pet name, “Did you know that Taehyung’s in the hospital?”

“What?” He seems as shocked as you, his eyebrows shooting up in alarm.

“It happened this morning around eleven or something. It was a collision, a motorcycle accident. Oh god, he’s—he’s been taken to the ER,” you choke out the words, struggling to maintain your composure as you try recalling one of the articles you skimmed. “We have to go. I have to go right now.”

“I’m coming with you.” Namjoon leaps from his chair, grabbing his keys from his desk drawer. “I’ll drive.”

“No,” you stop him, “I don’t know how long this’ll be and you usually work until 5:30, so I don't want you to have to be stuck at the hospital with me. I want you to be able to call it an early night if you want. We'll take separate cars over.”

“Okay,” he nods. “I’ll meet you over there then?”

“Yeah.” You nod back, clutching your keys harder in your palm. “Yeah, sounds good.” You turn around to head for the nearest exit, but your secretary stops you mid-step.

“__,” he calls you by your name, having known you for the past decade permits him to do so. He softens his eyes when he sees the worry in your own clear as day. “He’s gonna be okay. We have to believe that. Please drive safe.”

“You too,” you say, then disappear from his sight.

When you arrive, it’s a madhouse. Sirens blare as ambulances rush into the hospital parking lot, doctors and nurses race from room to room, and fans—so many fans—crowd outside, all waving signs of comfort and support.

“I'm here to see Kim Taehyung,” you say urgently to the charge nurse. She recognizes you immediately and throws you a look of distaste, but you’re too focused on the emergency at hand to care. “I’m sure you know who I am, but I need to see him. We work together, we're colleagues.”

“Ms. __,” she replies, surprisingly calm and collected amidst her obvious dislike of you. “I’m afraid he’s currently receiving serious medical attention and won’t be able to have any visitors at the moment.”

“I’ll wait,” you blurt out the words faster than you anticipate. You feel like you're eating your words from earlier about leaving him alone, but this is different—his life is on the line. "I can wait for him.”

“Visiting hours are only until 8 pm. I really don’t think—”

“Please,” you interrupt, your voice stern and urgent. “He's part of my team. He's my...friend. I have to know if he’s okay.”

The nurse hesitates, her expression softening slightly as she sees the genuine concern in your eyes. “Alright,” she finally says, her tone firm but kinder. “You can wait in the family lounge, but I can’t promise you’ll be able to see him anytime soon."

“Thank you,” you say, relief flooding through you. She directs you to a quiet room down the hall, away from the commotion where you're better able to calm your racing thoughts. You find a seat in the far corner immediately and send a quick text to Namjoon, letting him know where you are.

As you wait, the minutes drag by painfully slow. You can’t stop replaying the articles in your mind from earlier, the words “motorcycle accident” echoing like a mantra. How did this even happen? How bad was his condition? How much strain is this going to put on his acting career? You wish you knew.

A handful of nurses enter the lounge occasionally, calling out names and providing updates, but none of them are Taehyung’s. You find your ears burning every time the door opens, heart racing, only to sink back into your seat when it’s not about him.

Finally, you catch sight of Namjoon, his face mirroring your concern. He spots you immediately and rushes over, taking a seat in the chair beside you. “Any news?” he asks, his voice low and urgent.

“Not yet,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. “They said he’s receiving serious medical attention and don't know when we'll be able to see him. We have to leave by 8.”

Namjoon nods, his expression grim but unwavering “We’ll wait together.”

"If you need to leave sooner than—"

"I know," he interrupts. "I appreciate it, but please let me be here too."

You sit in silence from then on, exhaustion beginning to weigh heavy on both your shoulders. It's not until 7:35 when a doctor walks into the lounge, his tired eyes scan the room until they land on you and Namjoon.

“Are you here for Kim Taehyung?” he asks. "I'm Dr. Min."

You nod, your heart in your throat.

“He’s stable for now,” Dr. Min explains, “but he's still in critical condition. We’re doing everything we can.”

“Can we see him?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He sighs. “Only for a few minutes. And you need to be prepared—he’s heavily sedated and has sustained significant injuries.”

“I understand,” you reply, mentally preparing yourself for what’s to come.

Dr. Min leads you through a maze of hallways until you reach the ICU. As you enter Taehyung’s room, the sight of him hooked up to machines and covered in bandages nearly breaks you. You take a deep breath and step closer, Namjoon right next to you.

“Taehyung,” you whisper, but he remains motionless, his breathing steady and rhythmic. The severity of his injuries is evident in the way he lies.

“We're here, Taehyung,” Namjoon continues, noticing your slightly frozen state. “We’re both here for you. Please, fight through this. You and I, we're good pals, remember? Like brothers. You have to—"

Although the more collected one before, Namjoon begins to struggle with his words. You place a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. Having known him for 10 years, you know that despite his strong exterior, he has one of the softest souls you know.

"I think I have to go, __. It'll be better if I see him when he's awake. I want to stay longer, but I just don't know if I can."

"I understand, we can't stay much longer anyway. Go home and get some rest. Dr. Min will call us when he's awake and able to talk."

After you give him a hug, Namjoon leaves the room, leaving you alone with Taehyung. You end up pulling up a chair beside his bed and slowly reach out to touch his hand. It's instinctive for you, the need to feel his heartbeat overpowering any other thought.

"I'm so sorry this happened to you, Taehyung," you start, your voice a mere murmur. "You'll push through this, right? Like in the movies you film. I confess I haven't seen any of them yet, but—but I will! That's how I found out about all this actually. We hadn't seen you for nearly two weeks, so I searched you up. Not in a weird way though, okay? Not like...anyway, I'm sorry I said no to you that day. When you asked to go for dinner, it threw me off. This whole thing with my ex-husband just has my mind in fifty million directions, so I promise it wasn't you. I hope you didn't think that."

"You've always seemed to show up for me, whether it's for the good of the company or even a little emotionally in some aspects. With the reputation I have these days, I'll always be grateful that you chose to work with me. You have a good heart, Taehyung, so much that I think if we ever got close, I think it might be unbearable for me," you pause, a couple of tears slipping down your face.

Just then, a creaking of the room's door momentarily pulls your attention away. Dr. Min stands a few feet away, clearing his throat—a gentle but firm signal that it's time for you to leave.

"I have to go soon, but I'll be back tomorrow, okay? Even if you're still asleep or not, I'll stop in and sit with you for a while because...because I need to be sure that you'll be alright. Namjoon will come see you too when he's ready. But I'll see you in the morning, alright Kim?"

You squeeze Taehyung's hand gently before heading out of the room, thanking the medical staff along the way.

When you get home, the first thing you do is head straight for the bathroom. Your whole body feels riddled with stress and exhaustion, and you know that the only thing that can offer even the slightest amount of solace is the warmth of water.

Yet not four minutes after immersing yourself in your tub does your phone ring, demanding your attention. Being this late into the evening, you figure it has to be Jimin.

But you're wrong.

When you reach to answer the call, it's actually an unrecognizable number that's flashing on the screen. You hesitate for a moment, debating whether to answer or let it go to voicemail.

"Hello?" you answer cautiously, curiosity getting the best of you.

There's a brief pause on the other end before his voice comes through, words slightly muddled. "Hey, it's me," he says, his tone soft. "I've been...I've been thinking about my life, you know? About everything.

"J-Jungkook?" Your heart sinks as you quickly decipher the owner of the voice, but then it hardens. It's obvious from the slurring of his words that he's been drinking. "Why on earth are you calling me? And at this godforsaken hour too."

"I told you...I've been thinking about my life."

"I'm hanging up."

"No, please, stay on the line for five minutes. Please, I have to tell you...what I've been thinking."

"You have three minutes," you sigh, ready for anything (except what he was about to spring on you).

"I wanted to save my company," he continues, his voice wavering slightly. "For my mom's sake, you know? My dad owned it and stuff but she was the one who was behind all the technology...and that's why I married you. You...reminded me of her."

Your breath catches in your throat as he reveals the truth behind his actions, the raw honesty of his words hitting you like a punch to the gut. You knew very little of Jungkook's mother, too, as he didn't speak of her often.

"And then...then there's the real reason I divorced you," he admits, his voice breaking slightly. "My parents had a terrible marriage, you know? My mom...she had to manage my dad's temper for years...he didn't love her at all. He just married her because she was smart and could make him rich. It made her so unhappy, but you know she loved him so much. She...she passed away when I was 16, and...and I didn't want that for you. I didn't want you to be trapped like she was, because I'm like my dad you know? My feelings are...weird... I never know what the hell I'm...feeling. I'm probably not making a lot of sense am I?"

"I'm trying to understand." You want to hang up here and now but every time he speaks, you cant bring yourself to do it. The pain in his voice cuts through you like a knife, and it's a side of him that you've rarely seen before.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice thick with regret. "I'm sorry for being such a dumbass that day I got my stuff. That was like, six months ago and I still hate myself for it. I shouldn't have made an advance on you like that. I was...I was immature, and I wasn't thinking."

"After the gala," he continues, his words becoming more coherent as he speaks. "I...I felt even more guilty, you know? Because, I still have a photo of you and Bam on my dresser. It's small, but I've tried to put it away over and over and over again, but I can't do it. I don't know what's wrong with me...it's almost a year since we lived under the same goddam roof and I can still smell your perfume, I can still remember how you laugh with both your lips and your eyes...the way you scrunch you nose when—"

"What are you trying to say Jungkook?" You interrupt. "That you're sorry and can't get me out of your head, so you need my forgiveness to move on?"

"No! That's...that's not it at all. I mean, I do want your forgiveness but—"

"Well, what the fuck is it?" You hate how aggressive your voice is sounding, but the obscene amount of incoherent information he's revealing to you is overwhelming. "It's 10 freaking pm at night, I had a long day, I'm sleep deprived, and Taehyung's in the fucking hospital which is so distressing, so I'm sorry, but I can't handle any more of your cryptic messages!"

"I think I might love you," he finally says, his voice raising as well. "I know I'm...I'm being a dumbass, but I...I think I love you. I love you __, fuck!"

a/n: So....how are we feeling about Jungkook rn? Also, my darling Taehyung is taking one for the team here 😭 🤍 LMK what you think! Lastly, I understand the timeline of events is a bit tricky to follow, so if it helps I can put something in the series masterlist to help. Vote for jjk or kth!

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sinner-as-saint · 9 months

Text

stealing hearts

Mob!Bucky x Thief!Reader

Run-through: His mansion was highly secured, and yet, breaking in and trying to steal from him was rather easy for a skilled thief like yourself. Key word: trying. Of course you got caught by his men. And the mob boss was known to be ruthless, cold, merciless – the list of his villainy was endless – so you thought he’d end you the moment he laid eyes on a thief like you. However, he didn’t. Instead, he made you an unusual offer. One you couldn’t resist.

Themes: thief!reader, mentions of homelessness and parental death, slight angst, mob!bucky, dom!bucky, slight daddy kink, sex toys, age gap (reader is in her early twenties), smut, fluff, cocky!reader

a/n: more mob!bucky bc i need to write him for my mental health

“Where is he?”

You heard a deep, surprisingly calm male voice ask, followed by multiple footsteps that echoed outside this dark room which resembled a dungeon, or rather a large storage room filled with boxes.

You heard someone correct the man. “Uh, it’s a woman, sir.”

The footsteps stopped for a brief moment, then resumed. The first authoritative voice spoke up again. “She was alone?”

“Yes.”

Silence. More echoing footsteps. “I’ll handle this. Wait here.” Immediately all the other footsteps stopped and only one continued approaching.

A few seconds later, the door opened and a tall man walked in. You knew who he was, you’d broken into his home after all. Bucky Barnes. You had seen his face on the news multiple times. He was also easily recognisable because of his metal arm. He was the one most people feared around here. He was the infamous mob boss. Filthy rich, arrogant, merciless. But powerful more than anything.

He took one look at you, tied to a chair in the middle of the dimly lit room, and scoffed. The asshole scoffed.

You glared at him. “Spare me whatever dark villainous speech you have planned and just shoot me already.” You hissed, looking away from him.

He was quiet for a second. Then said, “What makes you think I have some dark villainous speech prepared?” His voice was surprisingly softer than how he sounded outside. Smooth, rich voice. The kind that felt like a caress.

You turned to look at him again, still glaring, “All you old, rich bastards are the same. You love to hear yourselves talk.”

He chuckled this time, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walked in a slow circle around the chair you were currently tied to. “I’m not that old. Besides, wealthy is the right word here.” He ignored the way you scoffed at his words, and continued, “Also, a thief who hates wealthy people? Very original.”

You sarcastically chuckled this time. “See what I mean? You love to hear yourself talk.”

He stopped right behind you, where you couldn’t see him. You would be lying if you said your heart didn’t start racing immediately. Out of your sight, he could have a gun pointed at your head right now and you wouldn’t even know.

He didn’t say a word. He just stood there. Letting the anticipation build. Until you couldn’t take it anymore. Yanking on the ropes didn’t work, you tried that earlier. So you said, “At least have the decency to look me in the eyes while you kill me.”

He was quiet for a moment.

“What’s your name?” He asked.

When you gave him your name, he sighed and said, “Who said I’m gonna kill you?”

Oh?

“Well I can’t imagine you’re gonna let me walk away just like that either.” You’d been observing rich people all your life, you knew how they operated. You knew he would ask for something in return.

“No,” He said, remaining out of your sight. “No, I won’t let you walk away just like that.” He confirmed.

You laughed humorlessly. “Just so you know, I don’t have any money.”

He ignored you. “Who sent you?” He asked.

Ah, the interrogation. Again. “Your loyal guard dogs already asked me that while they were tying me down. And they used some very colourful language too,” You scoffed. “And I’ll repeat what I said to them. No one sent me. I don’t work for anyone.”

He began walking around you again, coming to a stop right in front of you this time. You looked up at him. Damn he was… kind of handsome. You couldn’t help but smirk, then failed at hiding it.

“What’s with the smirk?” He asked. You were surprised with how calm he was with this whole thing. It was unnatural.

You held his stare as you spoke, “Nothing I was just thinking about how I used to watch the news growing up and they always mentioned how much of a big bad monster you are. But there’s not even a single battle scar on your pretty face.”

He chuckled this time, shaking his head as he looked away from you for a brief moment. “Stop making me sound old. Also, the scars are everywhere but on my face.” He said, stepping closer, bending down a little so he could whisper, “And did you just call me pretty?”

Your smirk faded. Your murderous glare returned. “Fuck you.” You said quietly.

He stepped back with a proud smirk on his face. “How did you get in here? With no help? I’m finding that hard to believe.”

The smirk came back. “You’re doubting my amazing thieving skills? I spent years perfecting them mind you.”

He sighed. “Years? You look twenty-five at most, have you been stealing shit since you were a kid?”

You shrugged, or tried to, “Gotta do what you gotta do to survive. Dead parents, grew up with shitty relatives, ran away from there, been a thief ever since.” You summarised your life in that self-deprecating way you always did.

He didn’t laugh, or chuckle. He just stared at you with an expression you couldn’t read. “Where do you even live?”

You gave him a sassy smile, “I’m a thief, I break into somewhere new each night. You’d be surprised at how many vacant apartments with comfy beds there are in this area.”

Again, he gave you that same poker face. Handsome poker face. “And you broke into my house tonight for what? To sleep?”

“House?” You gasped dramatically. “This is a damn castle. Though the décor is a little too dark, then again it suits you, you know? Nice gardens, by the way.”

He sighed again, like he was dealing with a difficult child. “Why did you come here? And how? How did you get past my guys?”

You took a deep breath and began explaining, “Number one, I came here to steal whatever expensive things I could find. Though you do have very nice comfy beds but I never,” You put more emphasis, “ever, sleep in a house when the owner is home.”

“Charming.” He commented.

You continued explaining.

“And as for how, well I spent the last few days hiding and watching. You have thick bushes out near the entrance of your castle. I stayed there, observed and learnt your security guards’ schedule, and found out that the multiple cameras around your property also rotate. I figured out that I had exactly a fourteen-second window to get past the gates. I found a chance and took it. Picking the locks was easy. But then your people just had to catch me while I was halfway through stealing that lovely painting from your lovely library.” You finished with a smile so sweet it had him sighing again. “And now here we are.”

He mumbled something under his breath about god saving him, then he walked to the door and opened it. He called out a name and someone came running. A young man with a sweet face, looking younger than you even, walked into the room.

“Peter, I need you to make all necessary arrangements.” Bucky pointed in your direction and said, “She’ll be staying with us. Looks like we have a new member.”

You ignored Peter’s very confused look, and hissed at Bucky. “What? I didn’t agree to this!”

Bucky turned to face you with a serious look on his face. “You have no job, no income, and no place to live. I’m offering you all three and you are not in a position to refuse me.” He continued over your attempt at cutting him off. “You have skills I could use. From now on, you work for me.” He paused. “Agreed, little thief?”

You glared at him. Damn. A job, a salary, and a roof over your head? The bastard knew you couldn’t refuse. You had to be smart here. He could’ve killed you, but he didn’t. Instead he made you this almost irresistible offer. This could only mean that…

“You really need me for something, don’t you?” You asked, suddenly sounding cocky.

He clenched his jaw. And that was confirmation enough. “We’ll talk business later.”

You laughed in his face. “Alright, alright, don’t get too excited. But if I’m working for you, I have some conditions and requests.”

He blinked. The Peter guy was so quiet and still you almost forgot he was in the room. “What makes you think you’re in a position to have conditions, or make requests? I could’ve killed you the moment I saw you, you know that?” That cold voice of his would’ve sent shivers down anyone else’s back.

“But you didn’t because you need me.” You argued with a sly smirk. “Now, here’s everything I need,” You turned to Peter and began listing, “A nice room, preferably the guest bedroom at the end of the right wing.” You winked at Bucky and said, “I checked it out earlier and it has the best view.” You turned to Peter and continued, “I also want a whole new, complete wardrobe, with bags and shoes and everything.” You looked at Bucky and said, “Can I also have a car and a chauffeur?”

He frowned. “No.”

“What if I need to move around? Run errands, go get my nails done and all?” You fake pouted.

“I said no.”

You rolled your eyes, “Fine, can I have a pet horse?”

Bucky sighed, “No.”

“A puppy then?”

“What are you, a child?” He questioned.

You smirked, “I mean you’re probably old enough to be my father.” You teased him and tried again, “Can I please have a puppy, daddy?” You knew the way you said it sounded far away from innocent.

Bucky walked over to you so fast your brain barely registered it. He grabbed you by the back of your neck and stared deep into your eyes. “If that’s the case then daddy can also put you over his lap if you keep being a brat, and spank your little butt raw until you either cry or come, or both. Is that what you want, little thief?”

You were breathless as you whispered, “No.” That wasn’t entirely true, and damn it, you both knew it in that moment.

Bucky smirked. “Good girl.” He whispered. Then stepped away and turned to Peter and said, “Untie her and get her whatever she wants.” He looked at you as he said, “No cars, horses, or dogs.”

Then he left the room. Leaving you speechless, and very much wet.

—

Peter, you learnt, was one of Bucky’s assistants. Whatever Bucky asked him to do, he did. That included sending a group of mean looking men out to shop for all that you had written down on your ‘Requirements’ list.

He showed you to your requested room and promised your stuff will be here before the end of the day. And sure enough, by the time the sunset everything you had asked for was brought to you.

You squealed when you entered the closet, excited to put away all your new things. Clothes, accessories, bags, shoes, toiletries, makeup, skin care products, and more.

Peter came by again in the evening, bringing you dinner and said, “Boss said he’d see you in his office tomorrow morning at eight. Don’t be late, please. He hates it when people aren’t punctual.”

You’d be lying if you said the mention of Bucky didn’t immediately remind you of what he said earlier about you being on his lap and… ugh. Damn him.

For the first time in a long time, you went to bed with a full belly that night. And you squealed again when you got in the comfy bed, freshly showered and moisturised. As you drifted off to sleep, feeling weirdly warm and safe, you forgot all about your meeting with Bucky the next morning, and how you needed to be up early for it.

—

Bucky couldn’t sleep that night. So much had happened in such a short time. One moment he was having a quiet, calm day of golfing with Sam, and the next he got a phone call from his security guys that his mansion had been broken into.

He went from spending a rare day off with his best friend, to having a sassy, drop dead gorgeous thief in his guest room. He sighed, sipping on his whiskey, holding the phone to his ear as he looked out of his bedroom window.

“Oh, I know that sigh of defeat.” Sam laughed through the phone. “Is she really that pretty that you couldn’t even use your brain?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. And here he thought calling Sam to complain about everything was a good idea. Of course the latter would only make fun of him. In fact, he thought, maybe Sam would team up with you and you two would make fun of him together.

“Shut up, Sam. I’m serious.” Bucky sighed again, “She pisses me off but at the same time… I don’t know. This girl has been living like a fugitive since she was a kid. I looked up the relatives she ran from, her uncle and aunt, and honestly, anyone would run from them. God knows what kind of messed up shit she’s witnessed and been through her whole life.”

Sam was quiet, listening.

Bucky continued. “You know the bushes near the entrance? She hid there for days. Days, Sam! Through the rain, and cold nights all just so she could study the guards’ movements. She probably didn’t eat that whole time. Who knows when’s the last time she had a warm meal? She’s so resilient. And strong. But so sassy, and the way she runs that mouth it makes you want to-,”

Bucky exhaled, exasperated. And continued.

“She has that look in her eyes, you know?” Bucky thought back to earlier when he first saw you. “Life hasn’t been kind to her. She has really sad eyes. Like she was forced to grow up and take care of herself. I couldn’t…” Bucky trailed off, “I couldn’t just let her go back to living like that. Go ahead, make fun of me for it.” He sighed. “She’s gonna be really useful to me.” He stated. “You remember last year? When I was ambushed by Roger’s men? Something of mine was stolen then, and I’m gonna get it back using her.” Bucky already had a plan made. “I needed a skilled thief anyway. I mean she managed to break into my house, that means she actually is really good. She could even lead some of my guys when they go-” Bucky stopped talking and asked, “Are you even listening?”

Sam chuckled, “I am, I am. It’s just rare to see you admire someone like this. Who knew big bad Bucky could be so soft? You better let me win next time we’re golfing, otherwise I’m telling everyone that you have a crush on the thief.”

Bucky groaned, “What is this? What are we, children? I do not like her like that, alright? I’m about a decade and a half older than her. And she won’t stop reminding me of it.”

Sam laughed again. “Oh I like her already. Anyway, have fun with your crush and tell me how it goes.”

“Goodbye, you asshole.” Bucky ended the call and shook his head at the thought of what Sam said. A crush? On a thief? No way.

As he made his way to his study room, Bucky couldn’t help but pause outside the guest room in which you slept. He could hear soft snores coming from within. Something in him felt satisfied that you were able to sleep soundly here, not having to find vacant places to break into. He wanted to keep it that way.

Why? He didn’t know. Whatever it was, Sam was wrong.

As he sat at his desk in his study room, Bucky tried to get work done but he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Something about you was different. Bucky never trusted people this easily, let alone allow them into his home.

That reminded him of something… Bucky found the list that Peter had left on his desk. The list of Requirements, as you called it. And as he read all the things his men had to go out and buy earlier, Bucky couldn’t help but laugh. He hadn’t laughed like this in a long time.

Oh this could be fun. Bucky couldn’t wait for your meeting the next morning. At eight sharp.

—

When you woke up, the sun was in your face. But you hadn’t felt so warm and comfy in a long, long time so you relished the feeling. You let out a yawn, opening your eyes slowly. And you found yourself looking right at a rather pissed off Bucky standing at the end of the four-poster bed, with his hands in his pockets.

All black suit, perfect hair, and those blue eyes…

“Oh hi,” You said, taking your sweet time as you sat up in bed. “Good morning.”

“It’s two in the afternoon.” Bucky hissed. “Who sleeps in for that long? You and I had a meeting at eight this morning. I was waiting.”

You yawned again. “I’m sorry, this bed is really, really comfy.” You said, as if that was a decent excuse. “Maybe you shouldn’t have put such nice beds in your guest rooms if you didn’t want your guests to sleep in.”

Bucky closed his eyes for a moment, looking like he was trying very hard to contain his annoyance. “You are not a guest. You work for me. So when I tell you to meet me in my office at eight, I want you there.”

You smirked, peeling off the covers and slowly crawling over to the end of the bed where he stood. You knelt on the bed right in front of him, “Oh? You want me?” You teased, knowing he would snap at any moment now.

You remained kneeling on the bed as his metal hand reached out and wrapped around your throat, squeezing just a little. The smirk on your face stayed in place this time, only pissing him off even more. “Watch your mouth, little thief.” He said.

“Or what? You’ll spank me till I… what was it you said?” You repeated his words from the day before, “Till I cry, or come. Or both?” He remained quiet. His hand tightened around your throat, choking you a little bit more. You couldn’t help but whisper, “Jokes on you, I’m into this shit.”

Bucky let go of you immediately. You laughed in his face as he shook his head and shoved his hand in his pocket again.

“Get out of bed and get ready. Meet me in my office in half an hour.” He ordered and turned to leave.

“But I’m hungry,” You said right before he could walk out of the door. “You can’t treat your guests like this, you have to feed me.”

Bucky refrained from groaning. “Fine,” He said, turning to look at you over his shoulder. His broad shoulder. “I’ll have someone bring up some food for you. Now hurry up, don’t be fucking late again.” He barked.

—

Bucky was embarrassed to admit to himself that his hands were shaking as he left your bedroom and walked to his study room. Fuck, less than twenty-four hours and you already had such a bizarre effect on him.

Bucky shut the door behind him, and closed his eyes to find some kind of composure. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The sight of you in those black satin shorts and that tight, excuse of a top… fuck. The sight of you so comfortable in bed had messed him up so much he’d gripped you by the throat like an animal.

He was grateful you didn’t seem to notice the hardness in his pants. He needed to get a grip. How the hell was he supposed to boss you around if this is what a brief interaction was doing to him.

He sat at his desk and waited. And about twenty minutes later, there was a knock at the door. It was one of the housekeepers with a tray of breakfast food. Bucky waited some more and after a short while, there was another knock at his door. Before he could even open his mouth to say something, you walked in.

Bucky’s heart skipped a beat. Just who allowed you to look this good? You were glowing after a good night of sleep. You looked incredible in your little sundress. Bucky watched as you took a seat on the other side of his desk before he even asked you to. The smell of your body wash and perfume drifted over to him, and he was almost salivating.

He kept watching as you moaned in delight when you took your first sip of coffee, then your first bite of warm croissant.

“Glad to see you’re enjoying your breakfast at,” He checked his watch, “almost three in the afternoon,” He spoke, finally. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to discuss your position here in my house and as my employee.”

You scoffed through a mouthful of some kind of pastry. You swallowed it with a sip of coffee and said, “So formal, my god. Just tell me where to go, what to steal and I’ll do it, no need to be so poetic about it.”

Bucky sighed. “I don’t need you to steal anything at the moment. There is something, but the time isn’t right. I will let you know when it is. But as of now, I have other plans for you.”

You frowned at him as you finished your breakfast. “Okay… I’ll do them under one condition.”

“Enough with your conditions.” Bucky hissed.

Despite his warning, you continued, “There’s this old, abandoned apartment complex,” You said, grabbing a pen and a sheet of paper from his desk like it was your own, scribbling something down, “I have some stuff hidden in there that I need. Not much, just two boxes. I know you won’t let me go but could you have someone go get it for me, please?”

Bucky looked down at the address and apartment number written on the paper. “What stuff?” He asked.

“Just stuff I’ve stolen over the years.”

He scoffed, “But you have everything you need here.”

You nodded, “Some of the things are… priceless.”

Bucky nodded. “Fine. I’ll have someone go get it. Now, about your role here. You’re gonna start training with the guys tomorrow.”

You frowned, “I’m a thief, I don’t need exercise.” You argued.

“No,” He said, calmly as he leaned back into his chair. “But you need to learn how to fight, how to use a gun, a knife, self defence, how to be part of a team and all that.”

Okay. Things got very real. You stayed quiet and nodded.

“Can you drive?”

You shook your head.

“I’ll have someone teach you.”

You shrugged. “So, no stealing for now. Only training like I’m going to battle. Anything else?” You asked.

“Yes, actually.”

–

About an hour later, you stood in the middle of what Bucky called your new workstation. You looked around the spacious room, impressed. It looked a lot like a lab, with every equipment a thief could ever need, even some new tech that you yourself weren’t familiar with. Weapons, trinkets, everything.

“So you want me to teach your guys how to steal using this stuff.”

“I want you to teach them necessary skills.” Bucky corrected. “Strategies. How to be observant. How to pick locks, how to be discreet, how to be invisible and hide for days, how to use a narrow, fourteen-second window to infiltrate a secure place. Whatever else you can teach. Minus the stealing.”

You smirked, leaning against your new desk. “So you like what I do, huh?”

Bucky ignored that. “Don’t cause any trouble.” He said. “I’m paying you to do a good job here.”

You looked around again, not able to fight the genuine smile that formed on your face. “It’s like paying a kid to be at the playground.” You smirked, looking at him with determination in your eyes, and some mischief. “I’m gonna have so much fun here with my new friends.”

“Do not hurt my guys, I need them.”

—

The next couple of weeks went by rather quickly. You woke up each day, excited for a change. No more having to be constantly on the run, no more having to steal for food, clothes, or find shelter. You had more time to live now, not just survive.

Plus you had the lab. It was your favourite place ever. Surrounded by gadgets and tech you didn’t know could exist, weapons that you were starting to get the hang of, and Bucky’s guys that you used as if they were your test subjects – you actually had fun each day.

The dynamic between you and Bucky changed too. And it all started the day after he first showed you your new lab…

“My guys have your stuff from the old apartment. It’s in my office, come get it.” He spoke through the phone – your new phone – ordering you to come collect your stuff.

You almost ran out of your room and to his office. When you got there, the two boxes were placed nicely on one side of his desk. A cardboard one, and the other one was a medium sized metal code-lock box. He stood behind the desk, watching you.

“As requested,” He pointed at the two boxes, “Your stuff.” He paused, then said, “Open them.”

You froze. “Uh, what?”

Bucky shoved his hands in his pockets. “If I’m gonna allow you to keep your stolen goods in my house, I should know what they are. Now come on, open the boxes. I need to check them.”

You walked into the room, shutting the door behind you. As you approached the desk, you tried to find a way out of this. “You don’t need to. They’re nothing. Just things I’ve collected over the years.”

Bucky gave you the usual, handsome poker face. “Would you like me to open them?”

“No,” You said quickly. You rushed to the cardboard box, opening it to let him see the contents. “See? Just books I’ve stolen from everywhere.” You explained as he looked inside the large box filled with old and new books.

“Now the other one.” He said, eyeing the metal box.

“That one has… um, personal things.” You said. “You don’t need to see all that.”

Bucky walked around the desk, stopping only when he was inches away from you. He leaned a little close to your ear and whispered, “I have received bills of all the things you made my guys buy recently. Some of the bills explicitly listed each and every piece of lingerie and underwear you ordered, including a certain little red thong you’re possibly wearing right now.” He said, making you shiver. “And now you wanna talk about boundaries?”

You pulled away to look at him, seeing the proud triumph in his eyes. “Fine.” You refused to let him win this one. You reached for the box, unlocked it, opened the lid and waited. Bucky was quiet. Too quiet. “Say something.” You whispered, “This is very awkward.”

Finally he did.

“Get on the desk.” He said. You froze again and seeing that you weren’t moving he leaned in to whisper into your ear, “I said, get on the desk. If I’m gonna allow you to keep all of these toys, then I better test their… effectiveness as well.”

You avoided his eyes, focusing on the top buttons of his shirt as you asked, “What kind of rule is that?”

“My kind.” He replied. “Now get on the desk. Legs up and spread them so I can see exactly what I have to deal with.”

Fuck.

You sat up on the desk, feeling just a little coy as you lifted your legs up and placed them on the edge of the desk, spreading your knees as far as they would go so he could look at you down there.

Bucky scoffed. “See? There’s that red thong.” He pulled his metal hand out of his pocket, placing it on your inner thigh, slowly inching upwards. His cold fingers lazily teased your clit, then slid down to inspect your wet folds. He pulled the thong to the side and mindlessly dragged a metal finger up and down your slit, making you shiver and moan as he touched you.

You let out a quiet whimper which made him groan.

You looked down in between your thighs, his hand teasing you like it was the most casual thing. You sheepishly looked up and into his piercing, icy blue eyes that were already staring at you. You couldn’t look away.

“Which one’s your favourite?” He asked. And it took you a little while to realise that he was referring to the pile of sex toys in the metal box.

“The, uh… the vibrator.” You answered. Your face got all hot but you refused to seem embarrassed.

Bucky smirked, pulling his hand away to reach for the vibrator. Light pink wand with a bulbous head. Bucky looked at it, then at you. He looked down at your wet folds and spat before turning the wand on and pressing it right on your clit. His spit helped the toy to move around better as he circled your clit with it, before moving it up and down your slit.

You couldn’t help but moan and gasp as you felt the familiar pressure forming in between your legs, and you involuntarily bucked your hips against the vibrator, trying desperately to chase your orgasm. Of course Bucky noticed, and he scoffed as he lifted the vibrator off you, denying you your release.

“No,” You whined, closing your eyes and tilting your head back, “Please…” You begged.

“Look at me,” he said, softly. You looked back at him as his other hand wrapped around your throat. Bucky leaned in enough so that his lips brushed against yours when he spoke. “You will come when I allow it, you hear me?

You nodded immediately.

“Good girl.” He said as he placed the vibrator back against your core. You felt the vibrations all over your body, as you stared into his icy blue eyes. He moved the toy around a little more before lifting it off you again, turning it off this time. “You can take your books and go now, this box stays with me.”

He put the vibrator back safely, shutting the box.

You closed your legs, hopping off of his desk. “What do you mean it stays with you? You can’t just… just steal my toys!” You frowned at him, pissed.

Bucky gave you an annoying smirk. “Yes I can. Now whenever you need a toy, you can come ask for it. If I feel like it, I’ll let you have it.”

Bastard.

You left his office angrily that afternoon. And vowed never to beg for any of the toys in that box. Let him have it. Screw him, right?

Wrong.

You couldn’t sleep that night. Your fingers didn’t relieve you as much as the vibrator would have. And that’s how you found yourself swallowing your pride and knocking on his office door. The lights were on so you figured he’d still be in there.

“Come in.” He said and you could already hear the smirk in his voice.

You opened the door, walked in and shut it behind you. “I need it.” You said, looking at him as he lounged on the couch near his desk.

“Need what?” He asked, acting oblivious as he placed his drink down and pretended to be confused.

You rolled your eyes at him. “The vibrator. Please.”

He leaned back on the couch, with a playful smirk on his face. “Oh I put it in the trash. I put all of them in the trash.”

You blinked. It took a moment for the anger to surface. You took a step towards the couch. “Do you know what I had to do in order to rob that sex store? I had to fight the guy who was closing up for the day. With a baseball bat! And you know the worst part? He was one of my ex flings!”

Bucky let out a chuckle.

“Don’t just sit there and laugh! What am I supposed to do now?”

He gave you a mischievous look and said, “Come here.”

You crossed your arms over your chest and stood there in the middle of his office. “No.”

“Keep being a brat and I will drag you here by your hair if I have to.” He raised an eyebrow at you. “Try me.” And those words had you moving towards him at once.

You reached the couch where he was sitting and stood in front of him. “Now what?”

“Get on my lap.”

You rolled your eyes, refusing to show how his words and tone made you want to drop to your knees and take him in your mouth instead. “You’re such a disgusting, old, pervert who just wants to-,”

He cut you off by pulling you into his lap and grabbing you by the throat. His metal hand squeezed your throat just enough to make you whimper. “What did I say about you and your smart mouth? Hmm?” Then he scoffed and said, “Right, I forgot you’re into this shit.” He squeezed your throat a little more. “If I reached down there, would I find that you’re completely wet and ready for me?”

You whimpered again, instinctively grinding on his lap. He chuckled, shaking his head.

“Look at you,” He murmured. “You won’t need your toys now,” He said, “If you need to come, you ask for my cock. Understood?”

You nodded immediately.

He smirked. “Now, will you be a good girl and fuck yourself on daddy’s cock or what?”

You whined, nodding, “Please…”

Bucky couldn’t help but lean in for a kiss then. All your whimpering was too much for him to handle and he couldn’t take it anymore.

You kissed him back, allowing him to almost tear your PJs off of your body. You only pulled away from the kiss to say, “We need a condom. I’m not on birth control.”

Bucky nodded, reaching to pull a condom out of his pocket. “Remind me about the birth control thing tomorrow.”

You watched as he undid his trousers and put the condom on. The moment it was on, Bucky pulled you in for a kiss again. He helped you as you lifted up and then slowly lowered yourself down on his hard cock.

You couldn’t look away as he held your stare. You both gasped and moaned as you finally sank down on him. Your body resisted just a little to fit him inside at first. Bucky felt it too, and an arrogant smirk formed on his face as he grabbed your hips in place and gently thrust his hips up, filling you up.

You moaned out loud as he did. “Fuck, you feel good, little thief.” He whispered.

Once he was buried deep inside you, you leaned in to kiss him again while lifting your lower body just the slightest, before sliding back down on his cock, you whimpered as he groaned, filling you up and being all snug inside of you.

“Oh fuck,” He swore again, “You feel so tight around daddy’s cock.”

The tip of his cock reached places you never knew existed. You whimpered, whining in pleasure as you took a good look at the man beneath you. He oozed power, manspreading on the couch with you on his cock.

You moved faster then, impaling yourself down on his cock each time. You whimpered shamelessly as you felt him filling you up completely each time, feeling him reach deeper into you with each thrust. His hand slipped between the two of you and found your clit, he rubbed it lazily. Grunting and moaning under his breath as you sped up even more, riding his cock and making him lose his damned mind.

“You have such a perfect little cunt…” He said, “It’s all mine now.”

You were whimpering and whining yourself as you took more and more of him. But you couldn’t help but tease him, “And here I thought mixing business with pleasure was a bad thing.”

Bucky playfully slapped your thigh. “I make the rules here. From now on, mixing business with pleasure is a very good idea.”

You leaned down to kiss him, biting down and tugging at his bottom lip while you sped up, and his cock stretched you out each time he filled you up. “Fuck,” You whined.

His hand circled around your waist and he pulled your warm body closer to his. He was still very much clothed, except for his cock being out and buried inside you. Meanwhile your PJs were on the floor, leaving you completely naked on his lap. Something about that contrast made it even hotter.

“Beg.” He said, “I want to hear you beg me to let you come.”

You bounced on his cock moaning and whining, feeling him stretch you out as you stared into his blue eyes.

“Please daddy,” You whimpered, “Please, can I come?”

Bucky held you at your waist and rhythmically thrust his hips up each time to match your movements. “Hold on, just a little,” He panted against your cheek, kissing the side of your face and gripping your jaw with his hand. “Just a little,” He whispered, “Wait for me.”

“Please… I can’t,” You didn’t slow down as you felt your orgasm wash over you, and he kept thrusting his hips up into you as your eyes rolled back and you moaned out loud as you came, hard, feeling your walls squeezing and clenching around him as you came undone. You panted and leaned forward, pushing your face into his neck to catch your breath.

Bucky came right after you, his warm load spilling inside of you, filling you up as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed your trembling body closer to him.

“I’m sorry,” You said as you caught your breath. “I’ll wait next time.”

Bucky laughed. “It’s alright. You were still such a good girl for daddy.” He murmured.

—

That night changed everything.

Ever since, each time you annoyed Bucky he would just fuck you against the nearest surface. Safe to say you began to annoy him even more.

But he could also be kind sometimes. For instance this one time when he found you in the library:

You were lounging on a sofa, reading when he walked in silently.

“Winter’s tale?” He surprised you with both his literary knowledge and presence.

You peaked at him from behind your book and said, “Leontes is such a cunt. Quite like you sometimes.”

Bucky ended up fucking you right there on the sofa. And then promised to get you your own bookshelf in the library because he didn’t like the way you stuffed your books among his on the current shelves. It’s messy and immature, he said. Grown ups don’t keep their books like this, he said.

Bucky could also be so confusing at times. Like how he would always treat you like the thing between the two of you was just a casual fling. But then he would get jealous whenever he saw you getting too close to any one of his guys while you trained with them.

“I will be overseeing your training from now on. No need to join the guys in the morning.” He said out of nowhere when you joined him for dinner in the dining room one night.

“Why?” You asked.

“Because you distract them too much with your shenanigans. Constant flirting, walking around in your little workout outfits, all that needs to stop.” He spoke, avoiding your eyes.

You smirked. “So we’re gonna be early morning workout buddies from now on?”

He sighed, “Don’t make me regret this.”

You chuckled, “Oh you will regret this.”

He did. But in the best ways. So each morning workout either started or ended with a nice fuck sesh.

—

You were at your workstation one morning when Bucky walked in with a serious look on his face.

You’d just seen him a couple of hours ago for your ‘workout’ so you wondered why he was back. Usually he left you alone for most of the day, only finding his way back to your bed late at night. So this was unusual.

“What’s going on? Why do you look like you want to murder someone?” You asked as he stood right in front of you with an earpiece in hand.

“Put this on.” He said.

You did as he asked. And waited.

Bucky grabbed his phone, walking to one of the nearest screens and a few taps later, you were looking at the live feed of some kind of body cam.

“What’s this?” You asked. Just then, you began hearing muffled voices coming from the earpiece.

Bucky turned to you. “My guys are… retrieving something of mine from a secret location. I need you to guide them.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait, is this it? Is this the thing you needed me for?”

Bucky’s face gave away nothing. “Just do as you’re told.”

You nodded, quickly looking back at the screen. “Who’s leading them?” You asked.

Someone’s muffled voice replied from the earpiece. “Thor is.”

You nodded, looking at the screen. “Right. How could I miss those biceps that are bigger than my head?” You said.

Bucky smacked you on the butt and said, “Focus.”

“I am, I am. I got this.”

Anf for the next few minutes, you led the men through whatever maze of a building they were in. You found the location within seconds and managed to have a blueprint of the place. You warned them of the cameras, told them when to move and when not to. You instructed Thor how to pick an ancient looking lock that led them into an even bigger maze. But you did everything right, used the right strategies, the right tricks up your sleeves, and you managed to get the guys out of there safely, with the mystery package they stole.

Once they were out in the clear and confirmed that they were on their way home, you turned to Bucky and asked, “How did I do?” You waited eagerly for his response.

Bucky just smirked and said, “Good. You passed the test.”

Your smile faded fast. “What? What test?”

Bucky explained, “The guys weren’t actually out stealing shit. I just wanted to see how you would do in a situation like that. And you did great. Congratulations, little thief.”

He turned to walk away but you called out. “You know, I deserve a nice gift for being so amazing.”

“Do you now?” He asked, not turning around.

“Yes, I want a dog!”

Bucky paused at the door. “No.” He said and left.

“Please, daddy…” You pouted.

“No.”

Oh well, it was worth a try.

—

The next morning, you woke up and got ready for yet another day of annoying Bucky. However, when you stepped out of your bedroom door, you noticed something outside your door.

It was a basket. And inside it slept two puppies, two of the fluffiest little balls of fur you’d ever seen. Once the shock passed, you began tearing up immediately.

You picked up the basket as slowly as you could and made your way to Bucky’s bedroom. You walked in without knocking. And there he was, standing in the middle of the room, getting ready for the day, buttoning his black shirt, casually looking like a god. Once he saw you, his playful smirk showed itself.

“So, how do you like-,” He stopped talking the moment the first tear fell down your cheek. His smirk disappeared. “What is it?” He asked.

You carefully placed the basket down, the puppies inside it sleeping soundly. Then you rushed to Bucky, wrapping your arms around him tightly.

Bucky hugged you back instantly, though confused concerning your reaction. Out of all things, he didn’t expect this. “Hey, what’s going on?” He asked, softly.

You sniffled, hiding your face in his chest. “I was thirteen when I ran from my uncle and aunt’s house.” You said, voice muffled. “And they had dogs so I grew up with them. But when I took off to be on my own, I couldn’t have a dog because I could barely take care of myself.” You sniffled again. “And it’s hard being without animals when you grew up around them, you know?” You let more tears wet his shirt. “Thank you,” You said, finally.

Bucky held you as your shoulders shook with your sobs. He placed a gentle kiss on your temple and whispered, “Oh baby, I’ve got you now.”

You pulled away to look at him, both of you ignoring the patch of wetness your tears left on his grey shirt. “You got me two puppies.”

Bucky smiled down at you. “You deserve it.”

You sniffled, “You’re being nice, what do you want?”

“Nothing,” He rolled his eyes, “Now get out of here.”

You stayed put. “I can’t. I have to make it even.”

“Yeah?” Bucky raised an eyebrow at you. “How?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, let me suck your-,”

He cut you off by pulling you closer, a hand wrapped around your throat already. “You are very tempting right now, in your little red dress. And if you don’t want want me to tear it off right this instant, I’d suggest you-,”

You cut him off this time, “Who said I don’t want you to tear it off?” You asked with a smirk.

Bucky sighed before pushing you down on his bed. “I’ve got a busy day ahead.” He said, looking down at you as he hovered above you, “But you don’t care about that, do you?”

You giggled, shaking your head. “Not one bit.” You said, running your hands over his chest and his strong shoulders.

He smirked, giving in. He leaned in for a brief kiss while he pulled your dress up and placed both his hands on either one of your knees and separated your legs, settling in between them.

Your heart raced in anticipation. His hand slowly dragged your thin underwear down your legs and threw it around somewhere behind him as he inched his face closer to your already dripping core.

“Such a fucking brat.” He mumbled and brushed his soft lips along your inner thighs, making you giggle and moan quietly under your breath.

“Shut up, admit it. You’re obsessed with me.” You sassed, then moaned out loud when you felt his warm tongue lick from your entrance up to your clit. You felt a familiar rush in your veins. Fuck he was addicting.

Your hands grabbed fistfuls of his hair, tugging on it as his mouth teased you. His tongue slowly circled around your clit, earning more moans out of you as your back arched off the bed. His bed, you realised. This was the first time you two were fooling around in his room.

Only now did you realise how it smelt like him. Dark, male, addicting. But most of all, dangerous. Fuck, just his scent made your head all foggy in lust.

Bucky had you squirming, moaning, a complete mess under him in no time. “I love seeing you like this,” He said, kissing your inner thighs, “Too busy moaning for me to run that smart mouth.”

You couldn’t answer as your legs trembled around his head, he locked his arms around your thighs and pushed his tongue deeper into you, making you cry out of pleasure.

“See what I mean?” He chuckled, “I bet you want to say something sassy so bad right now, but you can’t.” He playfully bit you before sucking on your clit. “Daddy’s tongue has you all tongue-tied, huh princess?”

You cried out. “Please… please daddy,” You whined.

With a proud smirk, a look of determination in his pretty blue eyes, and a couple more strokes of his tongue, he had you gushing out all over his tongue, lapping up all that you gave him. While you moaned and squirmed on his bed as he sucked on your sensitive clit until you calmed down.

You kept your eyes shut as you caught your breath, feeling him leave small kisses all over your thighs.

When you opened your eyes again, his face was right above yours. His devious blue eyes looking down into your wide open ones. You were certain all he saw in your eyes was hunger. For him.

“I want you,” You whispered, sliding your hands into his hair. “Now.” You demanded.

“Brat.” He hissed when you tugged on his hair.

You smiled. “Pretty sure it’s princess.” You teased.

“A bratty fucking princess then.” He didn’t give you a chance to sass back as he leaned in for a deep kiss, holding himself up with one hand as he quickly undid his trousers. You helped, pulling his cock out and stroking it. Bucky moaned into the kiss as you did, and the sound of it sent shivers down your back.

You gasped, and whined into the kiss as he carefully slid into you, filling you up entirely, inch by inch. Stretching you out deliciously like he did all the time. Bucky wasted no time, he pulled out and pushed back into you, making you moan into the kiss each time until the makeout turned lazy and messy, filled with gasps and moans.

You noticed he wasn’t being as ravenous as usual. He was… trying to be gentle with you.

Indeed he was. Your heart skipped a beat when Bucky laced your fingers together and pinned both your hands above your head as he sped up just a little into you. He was groaning and panting against your lips as he fucked you slowly, and you were unable to focus on anything other than him.

His hips rolled against your body perfectly, and his body weight pressing down gently on you was comforting. His grip around your hand tightened each time you’d moan his name out loud.

“That’s it, princess.” He whispered against your open mouth, “Tell me who’s making you feel this good. Who’s fucking you, huh?”

You kept whimpering his name over and over again as he fucked you nice and slow, kissing his way down your face, from your collar bones to down your chest. And you cried out when he took a nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue.

You opened your eyes as he pulled away to look down at you, his lips soft and pink and parted as he breathed rapidly, fucking into you a bit faster.

Something shifted in that moment, you weren’t sure what. But something changed.

His brows furrowed as he tried so hard to hold back and make you come before he did. “Fuck,” He swore. “Come for me.” He smirked and leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Come for daddy, princess.”

You felt the pressure building in between your hips as he sped up even more, his metal hand reached down and grabbed your hip gently, keeping you in place as he sped up into you. Your bodies moved perfectly against each other.

Bucky pushed his face into you and nuzzled your neck as he growled in pleasure. With a few more strokes of his cock, you came undone, moaning and whimpering under him, grinding against him hungrily while he came right after, filling you up again.

He stayed there, limp on top of you for a brief moment, before he slid off of you and laid down beside you. He caught his breath while you blinked rapidly, trying to calm your racing heart and figure out what the hell just happened.

Before the awkward silence settled in completely, you got up on shaky legs and fixed your dress. “Well, this has been fun. I gotta go feed my new kids now. See you later.” You grabbed the puppy basket and almost ran out of his bedroom.

As you shut the door, you heard him laughing to himself. A boyish, carefree laugh that made you smile.

—

With your new dogs, training, your lab, more training, days flew by.

Whatever Bucky had planned, whatever big heist you were supposed to carry out, you knew it was coming soon.

You often wondered what would happen once you successfully stole whatever he intended for you to steal. You didn’t even know what it was yet. Must be something precious either way, if all this planning went into it. But what after that? Would you no longer work for Bucky then?

Would this… whatever it was between the two of you that both of you absolutely refused to acknowledge – no matter how much Sam teased you both for it – would it all end?

You were lost in thoughts of all this when you found yourself mindlessly making your way to Bucky’s office one evening. Your two dogs, loyally in tow.

You found Bucky in an equally sour mood as you, sulking at his desk with a drink.

You shut the door behind you, leaving the dogs outside as you made your way to Bucky. He looked up at you and silently patted his lap. You made yourself comfortable on his thighs, an arm around his neck as you leaned in and nuzzled his cheek. His stubble rough against your nose and cheek.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, “What has you looking like an evil god plotting the end of mere mortals who are standing in the way of you dominating the world?”

He chuckled at that. “You are so annoying you should be grateful at least you’re pretty to look at.” He mumbled, taking a sip of whatever was in his glass. You assumed it was whiskey.

You couldn’t help the laugh that left your lips. But then you noticed that distant look in his eyes. Unfortunately, you were very good at reading people. You leaned in and kissed his cheek softly.

“What is it?”

He let out a sigh. “You never ask me what I’m keeping you around for.”

You shrugged. “You said you’d tell me when it’d be the right time. I’m just waiting, I guess. You told me about Rogers and his men and how they stole something from you. The details aren’t necessary, whatever it is, I’ll get it back. I promise.”

Bucky placed his glass down and turned to look at you. His metal arm held you securely on his lap. “It’s my mother’s ring.” He said. “The ring has been in our family for generations. All the men propose to their women with it.” He paused, then added, “I have nothing left of hers. Just the ring.”

Damn. Well. You would have never guessed that. A family heirloom? Why would Rogers tell his men to steal that? How would he even know to steal that?

You began to ask just that. “How did-,”

Bucky answered before you could even finish your question. “Steve, Sam, and I used to be friends. I always thought we’d be friends till the very end. But then Steve went rogue, power got to his head.”

Shit. No wonder Bucky and Sam were so close, they survived the downfall of a strong trio.

“I’m sorry.” You murmured, gently stroking his cheek. “I’ve never had close friends like that, I can’t imagine what it must be like to lose them. But I can tell it makes you really upset.” You pointed out. Then you took a deep breath and said, “I’ll get your mom’s ring back. And I will even kick Steve for you if you ask me to.”

Bucky gave you a faint smile.

“Just get the ring back.” He said, staring deep into your eyes. “I need it.”

Oh? The thought of him on one knee, asking someone to marry him was surprisingly uncomfortable. But you pushed all that aside.

“So when do I go?”

—

Another week later, the plan was ready. Bucky’s men were ready. You were ready.

You had the location, had studied the blueprint very well. You’d be in contact with Bucky the whole time through the earpiece. Steve was rumoured to be out of town. His guards would not be expecting the heist. This was perfect.

Or so you thought. The moment you got near Steve’s house, a gut feeling told you something was off. And you must’ve mumbled something to yourself because Bucky’s voice came through the earpiece just then.

“I’ll say it again. The moment you sense something wrong, fall back. Do you hear me?” He used the cold, bossy tone.

You scoffed and replied, “Yes daddy.”

A few of the guys chuckled around you. And you could hear Bucky sighing as you giggled to yourself.

You noticed the guards getting ready to move, the typical security rotation. You looked behind you and whispered to the guys, “We have exactly twelve seconds to make it past the gates. Don’t be too loud, and follow me. If you can’t make it, stay back here and keep watch. Everyone understood?”

They all nodded silently.

“Okay… now!”

Not all of the guys could make it. Some had to stay back because the twelve-second window was too short for everyone to beeline through the gates.

But the group of you that made it past the gates and into Steve’s house were in for a big surprise. It was a trap, Steve wasn’t home but his people had been waiting for you.

What was meant to be a clean heist ended up in a crossfire.

You could hear Bucky barking orders through the earpiece. “Fall back! Now!”

You almost did… but fuck you were so close. So close. That was when you took the earpiece off and tucked it into the pocket of your cargo pants. He may have been right, but the adrenaline was too much to resist. You’d missed this feeling, this rush of being so close to danger, to being caught…

So you went for it.

Walked deeper into the trap.

You knew where the ring was kept, you had the little box in your hand. You didn’t have time to see what it looked like as you put it away in your pocket, along with the earpiece that Bucky surely was still screaming through.

And then. The room exploded.

Then there was nothing. Just ringing in your eyes, and blurry images in front of you. You coughed, gasping for air and all you got were dust in your lungs.

You faintly remember hands reaching for you, dragging you, trying to get you to walk. But your body did not cooperate. It refused to.

You don’t know how much time passed. Or where you were.

You could hear the panic in his voice as you tried your hardest to reorient yourself. Bucky was here? You were lying on the floor somewhere. You couldn’t remember much.

The heist. The ring. A lot of fighting. An explosion.

Ah, an explosion that threw you across the room causing you to collide against a concrete wall.

Your side hurt, badly. Your head throbbed. Your vision was blurry, but at least Bucky was here. He was here, you could hear his rapid footsteps approaching.

“Baby….” His voice sounded distant. “Baby, open your eyes. Please.” He had never sounded so vulnerable. Due to the way your body moved, you assumed you were in a rapidly moving vehicle. “Look at me,” You felt his hands on your face, “Princess, please…” You couldn’t focus too well on what he was saying, “... sorry, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have… baby, please…”

Then there was just darkness.

And pain.

And a headache that refused to go away.

But you were with Bucky so you gave into the darkness. You knew you were safe now that he was here.

—

When you woke up, you realised you were in Bucky’s room. On his bed. The headache was still here, not as bad as before though.

The room was dimly lit, so you figured it must be well into the evening. The house was quiet, but as you tried to sit up, you heard him.

“Thought you were gonna sleep for two more days.”

You couldn’t help the smirk. “I slept for two whole days?” Then you panicked, looking around, “Where are my dogs?”

“Safe, fed. Sleeping.” Bucky stepped out of the dark corner of the room, but didn’t come any closer. He was quiet for a few moments. Then, “You almost got killed.” He stated, looking like he hadn’t slept in days but no less handsome.

You scoffed. “As if that’s all it would take to kill me. You know, I once fell from two storeys and survived with just a twisted ankle. I’m amazing like that,” You winked at him. “Besides, I did a good job. I managed to get your precious ring,” You went to pat your pocket, only to realise that you were no longer wearing those cargo pants.

Of course, he wouldn’t have left you in those same clothes for two days while you recovered. You looked down under the blanket and you were wearing clean clothes. His clothes. Sweatpants and a t-shirt. The t-shirt smelled like him.

“Looking for this?” He held his hand up and there it was. Prettiest piece of jewellery you’d ever laid eyes on. You could see the big, heavy stone from here. Dark green, black, silver. It looked elegant, and like it was crafted in some fae realm. It was truly unique.

“You changed me.” You pointed out, looking down at the clean clothes.

He gave you the same poker face. “What does it matter? I’ve seen you naked more times than I can count.” He said.

“And you made me wear your clothes.” You gave him a bratty, triumphant look.

He glared at you. “I’m sure my clothes feel more comfortable than those tight little dresses you wear all the time.”

You gasped dramatically, “You mean those tight little dresses you fuck me in all the time?”

That had him walking towards his bed immediately. “Don’t fucking tease me. Not right now, you’re hurt.”

“Aww,” You teased, “You care about me.”

Bucky sat down on the edge of the bed, turning to face you. “I guess I do.” He said, reaching out to touch your face carefully.

You couldn’t look away from him. He was so gorgeous. Even in poorly lit rooms with his face half hidden in shadows, he was the most handsome man you’d ever seen.

He smirked when he noticed you checking him out, “I know I’m pretty, stop drooling.”

You scoffed, shoving on the shoulder. The muscular bastard of course didn’t even move an inch.

“I’m gonna go bring you some food.” He said, taking your hand in his metal one. “You’ve been unconscious for days, you need the energy.” He slid the ring on your ring finger so casually it took you a few moments to realise what he’d just done.

Only when he got up to walk away did reality hit you. Hard. “Wait, what the fuck?” You held your hand up, “What does this mean?”

Bucky gave you a shrug, “Get used to it.”

“Bucky!”

“What?”

You blinked, mouth open, your body frozen in shock. “Did you just… are you for real? I thought the plan was to get the ring back so you could display it in your office and admire it like the deranged villain you try so hard to be.”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “Change of plans.”

You lowered your eyes, tracing a finger over the big stone on the gothic looking ring. “You can’t marry a thief.”

Bucky sat back down again, taking your chin between his fingers. “Why not? You stole something very precious the day you broke into my home, and this is your punishment now. A life sentence, if you will.”

“What did I steal?”

“My heart.”

You groaned at his cheesiness, leaning in and hiding your face into the crook of his neck. “You bastard.”

Bucky chuckled. “I love you too.”

You were quiet for a moment, breathing in his scent. It grounded you. But then you pulled away and asked, “What about Steve?”

“I’ll deal with him.” Bucky answered, sounding grave and cold. “He hurt my princess,” He said, pulling you closer so much that you were almost on his lap, “I’m gonna kick his ass.”

You giggled, “Well technically he hurt your princess because she broke into his house to steal. Honestly, he had every right to hurt your princess.” You argued.

Bucky smirked, “So you agree? That you’re my princess?”

You rolled your eyes at him, “Technically I’m your fiancé but I don’t really care about labels so yeah, I’ll be your princess or whatever.”

He laughed, “Oh you don’t get to be nonchalant about this. I’ll throw a big party, invite the whole city if I want to. And you’re gonna be the centre of attention the whole night, parading around in a pretty dress of my choice, showing off your ring, and telling people how much you’re in love with me.”

You groaned again. “You are insufferable.”

“I love you too, princess.” He repeated, kissing your forehead.

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes

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endless-ineffabilities · 2 months

Text

The Bolter (part one)

Steve Rogers x f!Reader

synopsis : Steve carries out his decision to return to Peggy, aiming to live out the rest of his days with her. But this means he's leaving everything behind - he's leaving you. Did he make the right choice? Will there be anything left with you to come back to?

in this chapter : Steve is about to walk out of your life, causing you to let go of everything you two have, and everything that could be.

📝 yes, the title is inspired by Taylor Swift's upcoming song The Bolter. In my interpretation and in this story, it is meant to symbolize someone who runs from someone or something. A potential relationship. A loved one. And the choice is not easy, one that may bring a lot of remorse or catharsis? Anyhow - Steve IS a bolter. In the beginning, at least.

themes/warnings : language, angst!!!, pining, unrequited love, Steve is kind of an asshole for leaving (but we love him anyway)

word count : < 1k

masterlist ▪︎ next chapter

This is it.

This must be what true heartbreak feels like.

Steve, your best friend and the unrequited love of your life, has decided to volunteer to return the Infinity Stones to their respective timelines. Very noble of him.

But he also confessed that he plans to stay with Peggy, now that he finally has the chance.

They can have the dance that was stolen from them, decades ago.

Steve can be with his true love it seems. And that person is just not you.

Well, fuck my life.

"Doll," he smiles ruefully, both of your hands encased in his, "say something."

Say something, he says. What is there to say - I'm in love with you, I want you to stay with me? Don't leave me? I want you stay - for Bucky, for Sam, for Nat. For everyone. For me?

What can you fucking say that will ever be enough? In the 7 years that you've known Steve, you've grown to love him. As a friend, as family. Then, almost inevitably, as the only keeper of your heart. And he knows this.

But he's still leaving. Because, at the end of the day, Peggy is the keeper of his heart.

To you, Steve has always been everything good. Golden boy perfection, with a heart that would put a saint's to shame. Sunshine, laughter, companionship, standing tall and unwavering in his ideals. His gleaming red, white, and blue tendrils snaking their way into the very fibres of your being and taking root.

But now, all you feel is empty. You were angry, when he first told you, days ago. You had almost screamed at him, told him how unfair he was being. You made a long, drawn-out case for Bucky. How he doesn't deserve this. But really, you were making a case for yourself.

Stay, you had said.

He simply smiled, without any mirth. Not like his usual on-brand Steve Rogers gesture of sincerity. He smiled and it did not reach his eyes. He was sad, or maybe he pitied you. And that made you even angrier.

Until minutes later, when you finally broke down, and sobbed quietly in his arms.

"I hate you," you muttered against the creases of his shirt.

"I love you," he said back, and you hated him even more for it. He doesn't get to say that to you, in that way. Not in the same way he would say to Peggy.

Now, right before stepping onto the platform that will cause him to vanish from your life, he says it again.

"You do know that I love you, right?" His smile is genuine, if not a little nervous. He hoped you would be as accepting as Bucky, and send him off with just a rueful look. A gentle, final word. A sweet farewell that he can take with him as a reminder of all the times you spent together.

"I know," you breathe, relenting. Steve does not like that your eyes are glazed over, empty. Like you're not taking him in at all. You take notice of the resulting sag in his shoulders, out of character from the dignified stride he sported as he was saying goodbye to the others.

A big part of you wants to remain indignant. So what if he's hurt or uncomfortable due to your coldness? It serves him right.

"Come here," he whispers, and it comes across a silent plea. Come here? Will you, please?

You take just one small step closer, but he is already ahead, wrapping his arms around your frame. Your stony mask breaks as your cheek presses against his chest, away from his view. His chest plate glistens from your tears, but you don't have it in you to wipe them away.

When he pulls away to look down at you, his heart breaks. He cradles your face in his hands as you look up at him through wet eyelashes, and it's almost enough to make him consider staying.

But then you say, "It will all be okay, Steve." You gingerly pry his hands from your cheeks, giving them a comforting squeeze. "We will be okay."

You look behind you, where Bucky stands watching the exchange, and he offers an encouraging nod.

You take a step back, mustering everything that you possibly can, all the love you have for Steve, to give him one last genuine smile.

"Go get your girl."

Read part two here.

The way I was making myself upset while writing this - god I love angst!!! ~~~

I was gonna keep going, make it even more brutal, but I'll save that for the upcoming parts. It will have some Bucky x reader as well 🖤

God Bless America('s ass).

oh, and let me know if you wish to be tagged!

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #chris evans #the avengers #mcu #bucky barnes #the bolter

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running-with-kn1ves · 4 months

Note

Hii ! I wanted to ask if you could do more yandere gangster.

A/N: here's a ramble that is similar to so many other fics/imagines but its ALL I CAN THINK OF RN...

CW: kidnapping, yandere themes, murder, illicit substances mentioned, weaponry, some suggestive thots, general dark content shtuff.

Gangster! Yan who’s the right hand man to one of your city’s oldest gangs, the bosses family operating it since the prohibition era. Their main source of income back then was smuggling alcohol to different speakeasies and clubs, now mostly dabbling in the occasional shipment of opioids or small arms that they can get their hands on. Your gangster! Yan doesn’t handle that side of business, though. He’s been tasked to oversee deals, and the protection of the boss and whatever sweet treat he has on his arm for the evening.

When a ‘project’ goes haywire, he’s there to settle things. When someone needs to be taken care of, he oversees it while his boys do what they need to. And when there’s a witness to a particularly unsavory part of business, he personally sees to shutting them up.

That’s why he didn’t have a choice but to watch you, to learn your morning routine and stare intensely when you perused the grocery isles indecisively. The boss put him up to it, to dispose of every flaw in their seamless operations; countless times he entered your backdoor, breaking the lock you had just replaced due to his previous endeavor, watching you curl up in warm white sheets and smush your face against your pillow. Standing outside wasn’t an option anymore, his shadow from the window disturbed you, and it blocked the trickle of moonlight on your dewey skin.

Even with the small pistol in his hidden coat pocket, the crowbar he ued to pry the door open, the compulsion to rid you of what you had seen to appease his leader could not overtake the complete desire to rub his face into your chest, to have your thighs wrapped around his head like a sea of warmth, needing that earthy scent of your skin that somehow calmed his screaming heart to completely surround him.

What drew him to you was how alone you had been-- at home, at the scene of the crime, when you were out and about. Who would miss you? Who was there to take care of you? What would be the purpose to killing you? You hadn’t even gone to the police yet, despite the millions of questionable asks you submitted to reddit and looked up online for what to do after seeing a man’s murder.

The roughly edged gangster found it endearingly cute, so foreign to the life he had led. You had no way of stopping him if he completed what he was supposed to, no one to turn to if you suddenly found yourselves at the hands of a shady group of men who used you as a drug mule.

Gangster! Yan knew the kind of underlings his boss employed, easy men on probation or past druggies who wouldn’t think for a minute to stop from gobbling you up on the side of the street if you just so happened to walk down the wrong alley. Seeing as you had stupidly yet to make a distinct change your route after witnessing his gangs work, it could happen any day now.

He couldn’t let you fall prey to the men he didn’t have a leash on, nor let you continue to live in such suffocating solitude with that neutral look on your face forever. Even if it was only filled with fear from now on, from him-- he’d give you a better life than what you lived.

It was too easy to take you, too easy to drag you to his car, too easy to put you in the decent condo he had been paying for the past decade and barely came home to. Now, he had just realized, he’d have a real reason to come back home. He couldn’t just sleep the night away in shitty bars just to wake up to the next day of work. He had to take care of you, feed you, make sure you bathed.

Gangster! Yan was almost as surprised when he gave you the cold shoulder, heartlessly teasing you for your stupidity in walking down a known drug-trade neighborhood, for not having realized that he had stalked you every. single. Day. as you were blind to his heavy, broad shadow of scars and grimaces.

You were so quietly willing to appease him, to scoot to his lap when he demanded it with a threatening hand over his pocket, pretending as if the empty space was a weapon. “Please don’t kill me” you asked neverendingly, every meek breath expecting a slap or a shove off. But the criminal held onto you tighter, hating the reminder that you weren’t a willing pet.

Even when your eyes faded back with ecstasy, your arms thrown around his shoulders with a grip that only a lover could offer, he saw the flinch you gave when he bent down to kiss you.

Even with his harsh spats that he throws at you for your mistakes, his belittlement, you are his comfort doll when he’s deal with hardships for the day. When the horrible things he’s done starts to get to him and the alcohol doesn’t drown it out, or when one of his drop-offs go to shit, you’re the one he bee-lines for for to rant to, to make you stroke him and nod at how hard he’s worked. But his possessiveness is soul-crushing. His grip is painful when he holds you at night, his kisses rough against your mouth with his chain-smoker breath and chapped lips that haven’t been touched in ages.

But with you, he’s learned to take better care of himself. He already has you, wants you in every way, but he needs you to want him, to need him. So, coming home to shower, geling his hair back like he did as a young rookie, shaving his 5 o’clock shadow, he’s made himself into the perfect, respectable man-- or wannabe bad boy. But no amount of grooming could change your perception of the blood stained gangster that kept you in a cage before you were trustworthy enough to be chained to the bed.

“I’ve killed for you, who else could say that?”

“Been thinkin’ bout you all day, waiting here for me. Came home as fast as I could so you wouldn’t be lonely. A nobody like you can’t be left to your own devices for too long.”

“Won’t let no other fucker get a hold of you, you’re mine-- through and through. I’ll kill us both before something seperates us.

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egberts · 8 months

Text

we are finally home after a busy day. if you don't know already, callie passed away this morning. she fought so hard for the last month and held on for long enough that everyone who knows her and loves her got to see her and say goodbye while she was still in good spirits. unfortunately in the days leading up to this morning she suddenly rapidly declined again and we knew it was time. i won't go into the sad details but despite her condition she continued to love and be loved. she fell asleep in my arms leading up to her final moments, and we got to give her so many hugs and kisses. it didn't take long for the medicine to take her when it was finally time, she was already so weak. her personality has always been so quirky, it was hard to see her decline but she was still so full of love to the very end.

immediately after she passed alana and i went to a boardwalk nature trail and just walked for a while before going for ice cream (the cashier was incredibly nice to us, we must have seemed in need of cheering up because this was a theme of the day)

after ice cream we came home and cleaned up callie's things. vacuumed up some of the cat hair and packed away her furniture and the things we wanted to keep, we set aside some things for her memorial space, and we took everything else to the animal shelter.

just packing up her things was already somewhat cathartic but while at the shelter we decided to visit with the kitties and this was actually a very good idea. it was so bizarrely comforting, seeing and holding the small lovable kittens and realizing in a way that one day we will be able to get a cat as loving as callie was and it will be easy to fall in love with it too.

after the animal shelter, we had to swing by our house again to get the bulk pack of wet food that was delivered, very cruel irony there. it was a $50 box so i reached out for a refund and was given one pretty much immediately and told not to return the food, which gives us a reason to go back to the shelter on monday and donate this food too. (and visit more kitties of course)

we were probably keeping ourselves busy subconsciously, but it was good for us i think, because next we went to a state park and just enjoyed some time by the ocean. we saw so many crabs and even a heron came right up to us!

and you'd think that's the end of the day's adventure but no, after that we went to get pizza for dinner (because cooking is just not an option right now iykyk) and we saw a deer!! a freaking random deer after already seeing a random heron, it was just amazing.

finally we went to target to grab some necessary groceries as some kind of weird semblance that even though callie is gone life has to go on.

i am not kidding when i say every single other human we had to interact with today was nothing but kind to us. all friendly smiles. we didn't tell any of them what happened and yet every single one of them from the ice cream shop girl to the lady at the state park and even the target self checkout person. it was genuinely a beautiful day despite everything. it almost feels like callie's loving energy was just with us throughout the day.

i'm going to miss her so much, and knowing she's gone forever is very hard but i don't think i could've asked for a better experience with it. now it's time to finish up the last bit of cleaning and take a much needed shower.

after her urn and ashes arrive i'll post one final callie update, but as of now this is it. she is gone, resting in peace on the other side of the rainbow bridge. our sweet angel baby 💗

the cutest gradient trio ever btw

#i knew it would be two wolves dualing already but yeah. one part of me is so relieved and the other is heartbroken #callieupdates #tw animal death #long post

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impishjesters · 8 months

Text

Agents of Cat-astrophe

warning(s): none unless you count Jax note(s): This gave me a good chuckle as someone who's consistently dropping more curse words than regular words, I'd imagine the system to just censor anything and everything that comes out of my mouth at that point. A/N: (In response to the requester) I wish I was taking breaks (I mean I am sorta), I'm fully aware I'm running myself ragged right now. But it's hard for me to stop myself... I'm caffeinated and chaotic and I don't wanna stew in my brain for too long. At least I get up and stretch every now and then. Request: Anyways, I’m requesting a Jax x reader (crushing stage) where the reader is sorta at the same level of meanness as Jax and likes to do pranks with him on the other characters. Also the reader’s digital form is a short cat that at first glance makes them look nice/friendly (obviously not an actual cat but yk what I mean), and they have a sailor’s mouth that is unfortunately censored but that doesn’t stop them (can also purr and does so when they’re content which is usually when there chilling in Jax’s room or with Jax in general). I think it would be fun if the reader surprisingly was sorta nicer to Kinger and has a small soft spot for him and does more playful pranks on him than mean/harmful ones.

When you first showed up, you looked so small and frail, like a literal little kitten completely out of place in this big colourful nightmare world

Ragatha thought you’d be like Pomni, and boy howdy was she wrong

You just ended up being another Jax—who you later met and found out was also an agent of chaos

Similarly to Pomni you cursed up a storm when you first arrived and the endless censorship that came with it

You have a knack for testing Caine’s patience when it comes to your sailor’s mouth, much to Jax’s entertainment. It’s not every day Caine loses his cool like that and you’re just a newbie, needless to say, you caught his interest

That sailor’s mouth also gets used towards the other’s and Jax won’t lie and say it’s not funny because shit’s hilarious.

Sure they all curse from time to time, but you just laid out an entire sentence that was completely and utterly censored. Like the system said “fuck this I’m gonna censor the whole damn sentence”

Unlike Jax who doesn’t show any remorse for who he pranks or how cruel they are, you draw the line at messing with Kinger.

Okay, that’s a lie you still mess with him but it’s not like how you mess with the others. Kinger has this sweet unstable dad/grandpa vibe and it kind of makes the place more homey in a weird way. (plus that man has been through enough trauma, give him a break, and talk about his bug collections or some shit)

The upside is that his mind is so scattered sometimes that using the same pranks on him always results in something hilarious. So you really don’t need to try for any new material. (he also really needs to consider actually using the lock on his door, he makes it too easy)

Jax considered you his little partner in crime the more time passed—not exactly a friend nah, but like a good ol pal that also likes to partake in joining him and his bullshittery

The first time he hears you purring is when the two of you are lazing about in his room, he’d gotten distracted collecting things for a prank on someone and heard the loudest rumbling coming from behind him

“Are you fucking purring?”

It’s a little embarrassing at first, you’ve uh, never done that before..

Jax has the biggest shit-eating grin, if he wasn’t using dumb cat-themed nicknames before he sure as hell is now

“Oh, like you don’t stomp your feet like a petulant child you overgrown rabbit.”

He does not stomp his fuckin feet like a temperamental rabbit, thank you very much (that’s a fuckin lie if I ever heard one)

Jax already had mixed feelings about you before, nothing particularly bad, just feelings he couldn’t place…that was until the prank…

He doesn’t know how you did it, or how he got so wrapped up in it. But you pranked him, and you pranked him good.

Oh, oh okay that feeling is new… butterflies don’t typically belong inside your gut, now whether Jax has ever experienced a crush before or not is probably beyond him. But these little butterflies are a bitch and it takes awhile of placing two and two together to realize he’s… caught feelings to some degree

You, however, probably had a crush on him for a while, perhaps really noticing it after the whole purring fiasco when you learned that it only happened around Jax

#the amazing digital circus x reader #tadc jax #the amazing digital circus #jax x reader #jax #tadc

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sunny44 · 9 months

Text

What about us?

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x ex!Reader

Warnings: mentions of loneliness, sadness, breakup, co-parenting and maybe more

Summary: Where Lewis hasn't been himself lately.

Next Chapter

Lewis and I met when I was working in the media department at Mercedes, I wouldn't say we fell in love at first, but he was definitely the guy I loved most in my life.

But unfortunately not everything we love stays in our lives forever.

We dated for 3 years and then when 2021 came, he was so devastated that the title was taken away from him that our relationship didn’t last.

He was so out of himself that u didn’t recognized him anymore, I seem like the man I love was taken away from me when he lost that day.

So that when we decided to go in separated ways.

But 3 months after i found out that u was pregnant with our daughter and we had to get our path together again. He said to me the day I told him about my pregnancy that I saved him for making the stupidest mistake of his life because he was about to retire from formula 1.

The internet already new that we weren’t together anymore but they just discovered my pregnancy when he posted about it.

We obviously will have a connection for the rest of our lives and I am extremely happy that we manage to be in good terms or co-parenting would have been harder.

I would be lying if I said it was easy because it wasn’t, the fact that we are separated makes Harley's schedule and routine harder than would be if we were together.

Today is Harley’s 3th birthday and I’m was going crazy with everything, she wanted a formula 1 themed party and it was all thanks to her father who got her addicted to the sport.

So here I was running around my apartment to decorate everything while she was with Sebastian and his wife.

Kika is here with Pierre and the other boys helping me with the party.

Lately he was kind of absent, he obviously came to see Harley but when I tried to talk to him, Lewis answered as little as possible and my messages he didn't even answer.

I had been trying to get him to help me with her birthday but now I was worried that he wouldn't come.

I hope he is only busy now in the afternoon because I will kill him if he doesn't show up.

We live in Monaco so some of the drivers came since they are all passionate about Harley.

This includes George, Pierre, Sebastian, Charles, Carlos, Daniel, Max and Lando.

Max and Lewis were not biggest fans of each other, far from it, but Benjamin his son was best friends with Harley so we met occasionally. And above all they treated each other with respect so we had an acceptable relationship for the sake of our children.

And Lewis hated that Harley adored Uncle Max.

The party had been going on for two hours and nothing came of him, I didn't know whether to be worried or angry.

"Mommy, where's Daddy?"

"I don't know my love, he should be here soon." She agrees a little discouraged but runs to where Ben and Max were.

"Anthony do you know where Lewis is?" I asked his father who was talking to my parents.

"I don't know darling, he said he would be a little late but he would come." I sighed in frustration. "I'll try to call him."

"Thank you."

He left to try to call his son and I went off to try to concentrate on distracting Harley with play.

…

He appeared in the middle of the party and I sighed with relief when I saw him coming through the door with Angela with him, Harley ran up to her father and I was happy to see her smile.

"How nice of you to come." I hugged Angela and she smiled.

"You've done well with the decorations." She said and I thanked her. "Can I talk to you? I want to take advantage of the fact that he's distracted by her."

I looked at the two of them and Harley was talking non-stop and he was listening attentively.

"Sure." We went into the kitchen where no one was around. "Is everything all right?"

"I'm not sure, I'm a bit worried about him."

"What happened?"

"I arrived at his apartment today and everything was a mess and he was asleep on the sofa." I was surprised because he rarely slept during the day and his apartment was always spotless. "I tried to talk to him but you know how he is, Lewis doesn't open up easily but he ended up saying that he wasn't happy and that he missed you both a lot."

"But we're always here."

"I think he misses a family." I sighed because I understood his feeling. "You know that he loves you both more than anything in the world and I remember when you were together he was planning to marry you, have children and have you live in a more secluded house so that you wouldn't be swallowed up by the media but from one moment to the next his plan became just a dream."

"I understand."

"And the only thing that's kept him going over the last few years is that little girl and the fact that you're her mother because that's what's kept you in his life. But he hasn't been the same for a while."

"I've noticed that he's been acting strange lately, he doesn't talk to me directly and avoids me whenever he can."

"Because he knows that you know him like the back of your hand and that you would know what was wrong with him." She takes my hand. "I'm not telling you this because I want you to feel guilty or anything, but I wanted to ask you to talk to him and try to help him in any way you can."

"All right, I'll talk to him after the party."

...

I said goodbye to the last few people and the only ones that were still around was Max, Ben and Lewis

"Buddy it's about time we go home." He says trying to talk the boy off the trampoline.

"Not yet Daddy, wait a little longer." He says short of breath from jumping around.

"If you don't mind I can take him to your apartment later."

"All right, thanks." He said goodbye and went home.

They kept jumping on the trampoline while Lewis was inside grabbing the trash.

After 10 minutes Bem said he was tired and i asked Lewis to watch Harley while I take him to his father and when I came back I could hear them in her room.

"I've missed you so much, Daddy." She says, already lying on her bed.

"I missed you too baby bear." She smiles tiredly and closes her eyes. He kisses her forehead and stays there for a few more minutes until he sees that she's asleep.

"Hey." He smiles as soon as he sees me outside her room. "I'm sorry I couldn't help, I got caught up with some work stuff."

He was lying but I knew it was juts for me not to worry about him.

"It's okay, I sorted it out." He smiled and went back into the living room. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"Maybe because I know you better than you think." He sighs. "You don't have to tell me what it is, but I want you to know that I care about you."

"It's just that everything's been a bit too much lately."

"What do you mean?"

"The constant pressure at work, the media, the fact that I'm not there for you two every day. Everything." He turns to me. "I just don't know how much I can take anymore."

"Lewis..."

"I miss you, and I miss us, I miss Harley and this feeling that I'm good at what I do has been haunting me."

"But you are good."

"Apparently not so much because I can't even stand on the podium." I sighed. "I don't expect you to understand but I don't think I want to do this anymore."

"What do you want to do then?" He looks at me. "You know that Harley and I don't care if you're a driver or not, we care about you too much to worry about whether you're still in Formula 1 or not."

"It's just that I've lived this for so long that I just wish I could be with you every day without worrying about having to catch a flight to the other side of the world."

"I understand and I'll support you in whatever you decide.

"Thank you." I sat down on the sofa and nudged him to sit next to me, which he did, resting his head on my shoulder. "You know I love you, don't you?"

"I know, I love you too."

"But I love you in a way that..."

"I know, and I love you the same way." He looks at me. "I understood what you meant from the start."

"And what does that mean for us?"

"I don't know but we don't need to find out today, we have plenty of time." He smiles and we lie down on the sofa.

Bonus scene!

Yourusername instagram post

Liked by @lewishamilton, @susiewolf, @cherlesleclerc and others 293629

@yourusername I still can believe my baby is turning 3 years old today.

I’m so happy that I’m your mama and that I’m able to watch you grow and turn into this beautiful little girl.

I can’t imagine my life without you and I’m grateful for having you in my life.

Thank you @lewishamilton for making me a mama and for giving me the best gift anyone could ever give me.

Happy birthday sweet girl, mama loves you so much 🩵.

Comments have been disabled

Guys I have so many ideias for another chapters of Lewis being Harleys dad so if you guys want to read the next chapters let me know so I’ll tag you guys.

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cevansbrat0007 · 11 months

Text

Case of the Ex: Part I

Summary: Just as you decide to explore your feelings for Ari, an unexpected blast from your past sends you reeling...

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Ex-boyfriends, Discussions of Weight, Discussions of Body Image, Mentions of Disordered Eating, Brief Discussions of Race, Pet Names, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Special thanks to @curls-and-eyeliner for helping me brainstorm. This story is part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. Thanks for reading!

“So do you trust me now, Mr. Carmichael?” You tease as you carefully place several books into your customer’s reusable shopping bag while you wait on the receipt to print. “Because the way I see it, I haven’t steered you wrong yet.”

“Here we go.” The older man grumbles, playfulling rolling his eyes as you punch in the last few numbers to complete the transaction.

“My recommendation track record speaks for itself.” You can’t help but laugh at the look he gives you. As if you two didn’t have the same conversation at least once a month. “I just want you to give me my props.”

“Arrogance isn’t a good look on you, young lady.”

“Who said anything about arrogance?” Your eyes go comically wide as you lean into the theatrics by pretending to look around your shop. “Certainly not me. I’m just a small business owner, standing in front of the best retired florist in all of Bell’s Creek, humbly requesting that he finally give me my flippin’ flowers.”

Mr. Carmichael heaves a weary sigh. “Fine, fine. You were right.” He steps back from the counter to give a dramatic bow. “Jean Hanff Korelitz’s Jacob Bonner was strong enough to rival Stephen King’s own Mort Rainey and Thad Beaumont. Your literary tastes reign superior once again.”

“And there it is.” You rip the receipt from the printer and drop it into the bag before handing it over so that you can rest your elbows on the counter. “Now was that really that bad? It’s not like I asked for one of your Sapphire Sweetheart bouquets, after all.”

“That entire moment was so positively excruciating I almost didn’t live through it.” He keeps his tone light as he slings the bag over his shoulder. “Anyway, same time next month?”

“Can’t wait.” You respond with a wink and a wave. “Wouldn’t miss it. And please give Millie my love.”

“Will do!” He calls behind him as he heads out the door.

Once he’s gone you decide to stand up and stretch, raising your arms over your head. You’re not satisfied until you hear the sound of your spine popping. And then you up the ante, twisting your body from side to side before bending down and touching your toes.

You hold the position for a moment, content to let yourself dangle until you hear the chime of the front door, signaling the arrival of another customer. Which was great news for you, especially since business had been kind of slow this morning.

“Welcome to Baubles & Quills!” You chirp as you quickly right yourself. “How can I he–” The words die on your lips when you get a good look at the person standing just inside the doorway.

“Hiya, Cupcake.”

It’s a nickname you haven’t heard in years. And it had only ever been used by one man. The same one who had broken your heart and left a wound so deep you’d been almost convinced that it would never heal.

And yet there he was. Standing right there in your shop. Somehow even more handsome than you remembered.

Mason J. Prescott.

The seconds tick by, turning into minutes as a loaded silence washes over you both. Whatever you’d been expecting, it hadn’t been this. A visit from your ex-boyfriend had not been on today’s bingo card.

Grinning, Mason closes the gap between you. His long, denim clad legs covering the distance in a few easy strides. Once he’s in front of you he removes his Stetson pinchfront and sits it on the counter before taking the opportunity to run his fingers through his thick black locks.

“Damn if you ain’t a sight for sore eyes.” Still grinning, his gray eyes give you a thorough onceover. It’s a blatant, slow moving perusal that lets you know he likes what he sees. “I swear they don’t make girls as pretty as you out in Brickfield. Must be something in the water.”

“Uh…hi.” You stammer as shock continues to course its way through you.

“You lookin’ to catch some flies there, Cupcake?”

Shit. That meant you were staring. Probably with your mouth open. It was an old bad habit that, up until today, you could’ve sworn you had licked.

“Sorry.” You cough, forcing your brain to reboot.

“No need to be sorry.” While Mason’s easygoing charm used to calm your nerves, today it seemed to be doing the opposite.

“What brings you..?” You trail off to take a steadying breath. “I didn’t realize you were back in town.”

What the hell was he doing here?

“I just flew in last night. Caught a red-eye home from Buffalo, New York..” He decides to explain further after you flash him a quizzical glance. “Dad had me working on a business deal up there. It was a quick trip with an even quicker turnaround.”

Oh. “Got it.”

“Yeah.” He chuckles, scrubbing a hand over his five-o’clock shadow. “My, uh, plan had been to fly back out to Brickfield first and then make the drive. But after speaking with my Mama no less than six nerve-racking times in the span of an hour, I figured I’d be better off coming straight here. And I’ll be damned if it doesn’t feel good to be back.” He raps his knuckles on the wood.

“I’m sure they’re all very happy you’re home.” You weren’t really sure what else to say to that, so you kept it simple. Although it still didn’t explain his reason for showing up at what was arguably the equivalent of your doorstep.

“Maybe. Some more than others, I suppose.” His voice drops an octave as he pins you with a knowing look. “Any chance you might be one of those people?”

Your teeth begin to gnaw at your bottom lip as your palms go damp with sweat. Why on earth would he care or not about whether you were happy to see him or not? Especially since you hadn’t spoken in–

“I’ve thought of you damn near every day over the last five years.”

“Mace…” His former nickname comes on the heels of a weary sigh.

“I’m serious, sweets.”

“Didn’t say you weren’t.”

You did not want to do this today. It wasn’t fair or right of him to think he could just pick up and waltz back into your life as if he expected your feelings for him to be the same.

Things had changed since then. You had changed. Everything was different now, starting and ending with you.

“I’ve been thinking…” Now it’s his turn to sigh as he squares his shoulders. “Maybe we made a mistake.”

“Ha!” You let out an unladylike snort, your hand flying to your mouth in an attempt to catch it. “I don’t believe for a second that I’m the reason your Mama pressed you to hussle your ass back to our quaint little town.”

“I came back because I needed to deal with a family matter. But I was thinking about staying because the one that got away also happens to own a shop that’s just down the road from my parent’s ranch.” His sobering admission is enough to send you reeling all over again.

Mason then places his hand atop yours, allowing the slightly roughened pad of his thumb to stroke along the ridge of your knuckles.

“I’m afraid I don’t take your meaning.” You give him your best haughty southern belle impression. “But if you’d like, I can point you in the direction of our Self-Help books. I’m sure you’ll find plenty of helpful literature on learning from your past mistakes. Might I recommend John Purkiss’ bestseller, The Power of Letting Go? I hear it’s a real page turner.”

Your newfound snippiness has your ex-boyfriend rocking back on his heels. He even appears a little stunned. Good.

You weren’t the same meek young woman he’d left behind all those years ago. Something that Mason James Prescott would do well to remember.

“Sheesh, Cupcake.” Your former flame presses a hand over his heart, feigning as if you’d wounded him. “You might’ve shed a few extra pounds when I wasn’t looking, but I see you've also gained a little sass too.”

You fold your arms over your chest as you take a moment to process what feels very much like a backhanded compliment. God’s gift to Bell’s Creek didn’t know it yet, but you were getting dangerously close to kicking his pert ass out of your shop.

As if sensing that he’s made an error, he quickly clears his throat. “All I’m saying is that I recognize that I’m dealing with a new and improved you.” He moves to reach for you again before apparently thinking better of it.

“But forgive me if I have a hard time thinking of you as anything but the doe-eyed freshman who wrote poetry behind the bleachers. That is, when she wasn’t busy taking home top prize at the state fair’s pie baking contest year after year.” Mason offers you his own award winning smile for good measure, highlighting the dimple on his left cheek.

Suddenly, the room feels a little too hot for your comfort. You didn’t like feeling this unsettled. These days the only man who was allowed to get under your skin was your handsome, overbearing bounty hunter.

It was a right that he’d earned, whether you liked it or not. And there were honestly times when you damn well didn’t. But you’d also be lying if you said that you weren’t learning to live with it.

“I could sure go for a slice of your famous brambleberry pie right about now.” Mason keeps his deep voice low and even as he takes a tentative step around the side of your cash register, which is the only thing currently separating the two of you. “But I’d be willing to settle for some cherry pie and a scoop of homemade vanilla bean ice cream over at Holtman’s Diner on West 5th if you’d be open to join me.”

“So I can watch you stuff your face with pie while I nibble on a depressing fruit salad from a can like a sad little rabbit?” You scoff. “Pass.”

Mason huffs out an annoyed breath, his brows drawing together. “You were the one who always complained about shit going to your hips. Meanwhile, I was just doing my part to be supportive. Isn’t that what any good man is supposed to do for his woman?”

Apparently you weren’t the only one experiencing a few ruffled feathers here. Fantastic.

“I’m not sure it’s allowed to fall under the category of being supportive –” you respond, complete with appropriate air quotes “– if you’re also the one constantly pointing it out.”

“We were kids, baby!” His hands fly to his waist so that he’s now standing akimbo. “Just a couple of stupid kids worried about stupid shit like football practice and prom pictures. I felt like I was walking around with the world on my shoulders back then. It wasn’t as easy for me as everybody liked to think.” He shifts his weight, resting his hip against the cashwrap. “Nobody understood the pressures of growing up as a Prescott. Nobody even tried…”

‘Oh yeah?’ Your internal voice all but screams. ‘Try being one of only five black kids in your entire goddamned graduating class. But do you see me crying? Nope.’

At any rate, you didn’t sign up for this month’s Prescott Pity Party. So you were about to politely request that he miss you with that bullshit.

“I’m sorry you felt like you had to carry so much alone, Mace. I really am.” You look down at your feet as you try to drum up a way to usher him out the door without touching him. But the next thing you know, he’s suddenly standing directly in front of you.

“Except for you.” He reaches out to clutch at your biceps, his big hands smoothing up and down your bare arms. “You saw past the spoiled little rich kid act when no one else did. And I didn’t appreciate you like I should have.”

Your heart speeds up as you take notice of the way his eyes darken. He’s so close that you can see the light smattering of freckles dotting the bridge of his slightly crooked nose. If memory served, he’d broken it during a heated football game.

One where he claimed an opposing player made several crude comments about your body and choice of skirt. At the time you’d considered him a hero. But now…

Now you saw him for what he was. Another run-of-the-mill Prescott pretty boy. All style and no substance. That was the crux of it.

Right?

“Why are you doing this?” Your question comes out weaker than you’d like, but at least it doesn’t waver.

“Because I want you to have dinner with me tonight. For old times’ sake.” His determined gaze bores into your own as all of the oxygen slowly dissipates from the room. “Please, Cupcake?”

Just then, you hear the chiming of the door, signaling the arrival of yet another customer. Spell broken, you take a fortifying step back – needing to put some distance between you and the town’s golden boy.

“Am I interrupting something?” The sound of a familiar voice has your already volatile emotions spiraling in the complete opposite direction as a sense of relief blooms in your chest.

Saved by the damn bell. Thank the Lord.

“Yeah.” Mason snaps at the same time you throw out a swift “nope”.

“Bird?”

Of course your gruff bounty hunter would defer to you on this one – for which you were grateful. You turn your attention to him, not missing the tick in his chiseled jaw.

Now that you saw them together, Ari appeared to have a good inch in height on your former lover. Aside from that, their builds were pretty similar. Instead it was the glaring difference in their personalities that managed to separate one from the other.

“It’s fine, Ari.”

“Bird?” Mason’s lip curls in an almost sneer as his hands drop to his sides. “Is that what you go by now? It’s…cute.” He tacks on the last part when you respond with a simple shrug.

If you were being honest, you didn’t much care how he felt or not. You just wanted him gone so that you could actually breathe again.

“Ari, huh?” He turns to give your man his full attention as realization finally dawns. “You must be that rent-a-cop my father was telling me about. Said you blew into town looking for Martin Westbrook’s sorry ass.”

“Not quite, pal. But you’re almost there.” Ari spares a bored glance in the direction of his would-be rival. But he doesn’t say anything. You knew without him telling you that he was busy assessing the situation. It was something he had a habit of doing anywhere he went.

Especially when found himself face-to-face with a dick like Mason Prescott.

“Well, you won’t find him here, buddy.” Your ex gives him a dismissive nod. “So why don’t you see yourself out? The lady and I were just in the middle of catching up before you took it upon yourself to interrupt.”

An uncomfortable silence ensues as both men stare each other down, each refusing to blink. The tension grows thicker with each passing moment. And it remains that way until you move to step between them.

“Mace is an old friend who stopped by for a chat.” You tell Ari, jamming your nervous hands in your pockets. “But we were just wrapping up so I could get back to doing inventory.”

It was a lie. And you recognized that Ari was someone who deserved a better, more in-depth explanation than the basic one that you just gave him. But for now it would simply have to do. At least until you got your bearings.

“But what about that pie?” Mason pouts, obviously upset by the prospect of you kicking him out. “Don’t leave me to eat alone, Cupcake.”

“Cupcake? Wow.” Ari scoffs under his breath, not bothering to his disapproval.

“Old friend, old nickname.” You hiss, somehow feeling even more self-conscious than you already did. “Now that we’ve established all that, I think it’s best if you two peaches get a move-on. I’ve got a busy day ahead of me.”

Needing some space, you attempt to shoo them out the door. But unfortunately, you might as well have better luck trying to herd a couple of cats. Lucky you.

“What about lunch?” Your man growls. Apparently he didn’t take too kindly to being thrown out either.

“Too busy. Gotta cancel. Sorry you came out all this way, but these books aren’t gonna stock themselves so…” You throw your arms in the air. “It is what it is.”

Instead of accepting his dismissal, Ari takes a step towards you. He doesn’t stop until he’s in front of you, his body eclipsing your smaller frame and effectively blocking you from Mason’s view.

“Did you eat today, baby?” He asks as one big hand comes up to cup the back of your neck, giving you an affectionate squeeze. Some of the stiffness in his shoulders eases when you give him a little nod. “Good. What’d you have?”

“A piece of toast and a hard boiled egg.”

“Alright.” Warmth pools in your belly when your sweet bounty hunter hands over a plastic bag filled with what feels suspiciously like a sandwich and chips. “It’s a grilled chicken caesar wrap. Best they had since you said you don’t like that chipotle spread. Also got you some sea salt and vinegar chips, some cuke and onion salad, and a cookie.”

Christ. This man was simply too good for you. Moments like these only served to remind you that you truly didn’t deserve him.

“Thank you.” You murmur once you finally manage to swallow the lump forming in your throat.

“I’m gonna need you to eat every last bite for me.” He tells you, his intoxicating blue eyes dropping to your lips. “So that I can fully enjoy taking a bite out of you later.” Thankfully, he's thoughtful enough to whisper the last bit. Making it clear that it was for your ears only.

“Okay, Ari.”

Nodding, he shifts his attention back to an increasingly annoyed Mason. But while there’s no way he could’ve missed the moment you shared with Ari just now, he chooses to stew in silence. Which is absolutely fine by you.

“Call me when you lock up.” You know that Ari’s words are meant for you even though his focus remains entirely on the other man taking up space in your tiny lobby.

“I’ll see you around, Cupcake.” Mason smiles, but this time you notice that it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I can’t wait to find out if you’re still as sweet as I remember.” He finishes with a knowing wink.

With that, he turns and strides out of the shop, not even bothering to hold the door for Ari. But your man doesn’t seem to mind. Instead he makes a show of shouldering through it with minimal effort.

As soon as it swings shut you hit the lock and flip the sign. And then you duck in the corner, watching as the two men exchange what you can only assume to be a few choice words right there in your parking lot.

And while you can’t make out what they’re saying, you’re convinced that it’s anything but friendly – what with them being practically nose to nose.

You stay in your spot until Ari and Mason finish their conversation. And it’s only once they’ve climbed in their respective cars and driven away that you finally slink off to the back room to lick your wounds and figure out your next move.

Fuck! You had the sinking feeling that things were about to get complicated fast. Opening the fridge, you toss your lunch inside before slamming it shut so that you can snag a homemade strawberry and cream popsicle from the freezer.

As you sit down, you feel your phone buzz in your back pocket. You fish it out, surprised to see that you’ve got a text from Ari that reads:

“Mace seems like a real stand-up guy.”

“No shit, Beast.” Rolling your eyes, you place the device facedown on a nearby table before nibbling on your sweet and creamy treat. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

END

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allysunny · 9 months

Note

Hi! I saw that your Miguel requests were open so I was wondering if it was possible to do a mig x f!reader where the reader is a civilian who's a photographer? She's always catching Miguel in action as Spiderman, not so much action shots but more movement inclined artwork. She goes to alchemax to take a professional portrait of their head biologist, Miguel, unaware that he's her not so friendly neighborhood spiderman and he's aware of her work.

Picture Perfect | Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

Words: 4.8k

Warnings: None, i would say! Reader is a photographer and Miguel is kinda grumpy, but that's about it!

A/N: Aaaa my first request! I'm so excited! I actually finished a book about a photographer the other day, so it was super interesting to write this. Unfortunately, I don't know much about photography itself. I have a camera, but I'm no pro! Nevertheless, I tried to do my best! I hope this is to your liking!!

I'm also trying something new with my themes haha, goodbye to that big red header in between paragraphs! </3

To say Spiderman was majestic was an understatement.

The way he swinged around the city, effortlessly spinning and turning and moving as if he was one with the air – it was breathtaking. Not only did he seem amazing at what he did, he always seemed to look great doing it.

And it was a cold, hard truth that the camera loved him.

Particularly, yours.

Being Nueva York’s most famous photographer hadn’t been an easy feat to achieve. Your job had consisted of carrying cameras and tripods and objects for many years until you finally managed to publish your own work; work that had gotten you recognised and plastered in every big magazine’s cover.

Now, instead of begging and pleading for work, the work came to you. Your rep would text you and call you at the weirdest hours, claiming to have found your next great gig.

But no matter how amazing, how well-paying, how dynamic these gigs were, nothing truly compared to photographing Spiderman in action. You had some amazing shots of him – fighting villains, saving your city, and some of him just being.

Those were your most prized possessions, the shots of him overlooking the city, as if monitoring it from above. He was Nueva York’s guardian angel, and your photos captured it perfectly.

One day, you’d been photographing a famous singer who requested your services (and your services only) at the top of the highest building in Nueva York. Once you were done, the singer thanked you profusely, everyone packed, and you were left alone to overlook the place you called home.

And that’s when you saw him.

You weren’t sure if it was just a coincidence. But from all the buildings Spiderman could’ve landed on to watch Nueva York, he had landed on top of the one in front of you.

It felt almost rude to stare. He hadn’t noticed your presence yet, and as much as your conscience tried to bite at you, telling you it was rude to just take his picture without asking for permission, the other part of your brain that yelled This is your job! won, and you found yourself bringing your beloved camera to your face.

Right when you were about to snap a picture, he turned to you.

Shivers ran down your spine.

I’m screwed, you thought, repeatedly. I’m screwed. I’m screwed. I’m screwed.

You waited for any kind of reaction from his part but got none.

Surely, he must see me. He’s Spiderman. He has to know I’m here.

Oh.

Maybe he did.

Maybe he was doing it on purpose.

Was this his way of giving you consent?

You brought the camera to your face once again and waited. He kept staring at you, and then simply turned away from you, gazing at the city.

A wave of excitement rushed through your bones, lighting the tips of your fingers ablaze.

You smiled and took his picture.

And another.

Those shots had earned you the cover of the Bugle Diario’s newest edition, and even an interview on the news, where two smiling anchors questioned you about your passion for photography, and the amazing images of Spiderman.

Sometimes you wondered why no one else seemed to get pictures like yours. Other photographers had tried, but their shots were void of passion, were bland. The masked hero would be too blurry, or perhaps facing the other way. There were times when you even humoured the possibility of him doing it on purpose – turning his face away because he refused to be photographed by someone other than you.

It gave you butterflies, this silly little thought of yours. Needless to say, though, whenever you found yourself considering it, you’d chastise yourself over it immediately. Why would he even do that? He’s a super-hero. He has no time to pick a favourite photographer. I’m just lucky, is all. And yet, you wished it was something more than just luck.

“Have you opened them yet?” Your rep asked excitedly over the phone.

The new shots of Spiderman had just arrived. You’d taken them last week, and the prints had just arrived. Excited was an understatement. You were dying to see how these looked.

“’m doing it now, give me a sec,” You responded, voice laced in enthusiasm. With a pair of scissors, you were able to make quick work of the cardboard box and dug into the contents inside.

And what you saw took your breath away.

Your (quite possibly) best work so far.

The first shot was of Spiderman on his back, body completely bent as he threw a web at (seemingly) your camera’s direction. You could see it clearly – the shape of his body, twisted in the middle of the air, the light that illuminated his figure, even the material of his webs were easy to make out if you looked closely enough. It was dynamic, the way his body contorted easily to aid him in whatever task he did. To the average person, it might even be painful, but it seemed such a natural thing for him to do, a natural pose for him to be in. A remarkable pose for a remarkable superhero.

“Holy shit…” You mumbled, to what your rep could only laugh in amusement.

“Keep going!” She encouraged, “You haven’t even seen the best one yet!”

So you kept looking through the picture, each better than the last one.

There was one of him with his back turned to you, body contorted as he webbed a building. His broad back was visible, as well as his muscular arms. You particularly remember almost getting hit by a flying car when you tried to snap that picture – it had been very well worth it. The building behind him provided the best background, since it allowed the viewer to realise how far up he was.

“[Y/N], this is great stuff. Have you seen them all?”

“No, just give me a second!” Just like your rep, you were unable to contain your enthusiasm. Each picture had so much personality to it, so much care and effort. This was not only your job, but also your passion, and it clearly showed.

“You need to see the last one, it’s amazing. Remember that day when – “ The disembodied voice on the other line kept talking, but you weren’t listening anymore. You’d reached the very last picture, and your breath had been stolen.

Spiderman stood right in front of you, hanging upside down by a web. His legs were crossed, his figure somewhat relaxed as he looked down. It seemed almost… playful. It had been snowing that day – small clusters of snowflakes fell around his figure, its pale colour contrasting against the deep blue and violent red of his suit. The sun threatened to peek out from behind his arm, creating a magnificent scene.

The otherwise chaotic moment seemed to be frozen, as Spiderman elegantly crossed his legs at the ankles, balancing casually in mid-air. The details of his suit were easy to spot, thanks to the fantastic lighting and the proximity of the photo. With this shot, you had managed to capture the essence of a hero caught between earth and sky, somewhat relaxed, but also ready to jump into action at any given moment.

Your rep must’ve noticed your silence because her voice got, somehow, even higher.

“You’ve seen it, haven’t you? It’s glorious, I tell you! Honey, this is your best work so far, congratulations. How you manage to get these sorts of pictures is beyond me, you have a gift.”

A gift. It wasn’t the first time you were told you had a natural talent, a gift for photography, but for the first time in ages, you were able to accept the compliment with no complaints.

“This… this is…” Words did not seem enough to express the wonder you felt towards the glorious work in front of you.

“Want some even better news?” You eagerly giggled a “uh-uh” and let the woman on the phone do the talking, “The Bugle Diario is doing a segment on Alchemax. You know, the company. They’re focusing specifically on the head biologist, a man called Miguel O’Hara. Apparently, he’s had some breakthrough discovery on DNA studies – you know me, I’m not very inclined towards science, but the point is, they want you to take his portrait!”

Alchemax was a big company. Hell, it was probably the biggest company in the city. You couldn’t quite figure out how this news were even better than the prints you’d just received, but were happy, nevertheless. A gig was a gig was a gig, and you liked portraits. Sure, this Miguel man might not be as interesting a subject as Spiderman, but it was Alchemax! It was still the opportunity of a lifetime, and there was no way you’d miss it.

“Count me in!”

Alchemax was huge.

Not only did the outside building appear enormous from the outside, but it also seemed to expand and grow once you walked inside.

All sorts of employees cover the building from head to toe – men clad in professional suits, women wearing white lab coats and safety glasses, teenagers carrying stacks of papers and boxes everywhere. You didn’t expect the megacorporation to be so… mega.

A kind receptionist took you to the floor where you were supposed to meet Miguel O’Hara, and while you two waited in the elevator, was sure to tell you how much she admired your work. You smiled and thanked her politely, before you arrived at your floor and waited.

The woman asked you to wait for a few seconds while she fetched the man you were supposed to photograph, and you did so, taking the space around you in.

It was… dark, to say the least.

Not to say that was a bad thing – you’d taken pictures at night, with barely any light other than the moon’s, but some indoor illumination would be nice. People in white coats ran around the floor, shouting words you understood, but couldn’t string in a sentence together. Talks about molecules, DNA, photosynthesis, splicing? filled the whole area, and you admired how focused every scientist seemed to be.

There were machines you could only imagine the purpose of everywhere, some large and scary, some so small, the workers carried them in their hands. Vials of strange, coloured liquids filled glass cabinets, which were occasionally opened and closed right away by working scientists. It smelled of sterilisation and focus. This was where the magic happened, you thought.

“Excuse me?” Suddenly, a rich, deep voice pulled you from your thoughts. You turned around, and holy shit –

“Are you [Y/N]? I’m Miguel O’Hara.”

You stared at Miguel for what seemed like an eternity.

Were biologists supposed to be this handsome?

He was positively charming.

He could best be described as big. Very big. This man was tall – incredibly so – with large shoulders and muscular arms nearly hidden by the lab coat he has on, but you can’t help noticing. You could tell by his piercing gaze and sculpted frame that his presence commanded attention. In fact, everyone around you stopped to stare at man for a few seconds, before hurriedly returning to their tasks. He must be a strict boss.

He narrowed his eyes (were they red?) and crossed his arms in front of his chest, eyeing you up and down with a look you couldn’t decipher, but had your cheeks and ears heat up just by its intensity. And yet, you were unable to form a coherent sentence, still staring at this man, whose cheekbones were so sharp, you were afraid they’d cut you anything they touched. Upon a closer inspection, you realised that the planes of his face looked extremely tired. When was the last time he’d slept?

By the state of the floor and the workers in it, you figured long, long ago.

“Is that how you do it?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Do what?” You managed to blurt out, holding onto your equipment tightly.

“Take pictures. Is that how you do it? With your eyes?”

If it was supposed to be a joke, you didn’t get it. From the way he said it, you figured it was more of a sarcastic statement. Of course. You were standing in the middle of his laboratory, shamelessly eyeing him up and down and wasting his time.

“N-No. My apologies, I…” You struggled to find the right words. They never came, so you shook your head and tried offering him your politest smile. “Yes, I’m [Y/N]. I’m here to take your portrait.”

Miguel eyed you up and down once again. You looked away, flustered. Could his gaze be any more intimidating?

“Is that all your equipment? Are you alone?” He asked you.

“Yeah, this is it.” You weren’t carrying much, just your usual stuff. A tripod, some lenses, a small reflector, and a light stand. Your beloved camera was inside it’s back, safely secured around your neck. Other photographers lectured you on not using nearly enough equipment as they would, but you prided yourself on your ability to use natural light and shadows to your advantage without a lot of instruments. “Are you busy? I mean, I was told to come now, but…”

“No, it’s fine. Where do you want me?”

Preferably on my bed, on top of me, while I hold onto those large shoulders and –

You chastised yourself for even having such thoughts. Not even the male models and actors that were photographed by you elicited such a response.

Control yourself.

“Oh, um… Do you have a lab of your own? I would like to take your picture in your element if you know what I mean.” Was the reply you gave him instead of the nasty thoughts you had conjured.

The scientist nodded and urged you to follow him.

You walked by his employees, all focused on experimenting with liquids, materials, concoctions you’d never seen before in your life.

With just a few words, Miguel had cleared what you assumed was the lab he worked on. Just like the rest of the floor, it was shrouded in in shadows. You wondered how anyone managed to work in here. Rows of instruments stood sentinel; their surfaces being bathed by the small amounts of natural flasks.

Things like vials and flasks decorated with labels of multiple colours stood on top of shelves, a reminder of the countless experiments this man and his team had conducted. He wasn’t Alchemax’s head biologist for no reason.

While you figured out the best place for him to sit, Miguel eyed you curiously.

You.

He knew you, of course.

You were the pretty photographer he’d seen capturing his fights and patrols and endeavours around Nueva York. He’d seen you risk your health countless of times, putting your own safety at risk just for a picture of him.

Miguel had to say he was flattered.

And not to mention your work always came out great. In fact, he had some of your best pictures safely tucked inside an envelop on his bedroom nightstand. A silent reminder that no matter where he went, you were sure to follow. And he liked it when you followed him.

That night when he was looking over his city and caught you staring, his enhanced vision had allowed him to get a proper look at you. At the natural sparkle of your eyes and how they widened when you two locked gazes. At the plush skin of your lips that parted when he looked at you. He could see you clearly, your gentle figure and graceful movements. So he looked away, allowing you to take his portrait.

It was the best thing he’d ever done.

“I think this would be a nice spot.” You told him, pointing to a nearby bench. “Would you please sit here?”

He happily obliged, sitting down and facing you. You looked even more beautiful up close, brows furrowing ever-so-softly in confusion as you worked your way around him, probably to figure how to best accommodate his hulking figure.

“Do you mind…?” You gave him a careful looking, pointing towards the vials and flasks and instruments cluttering the bench.

“Not at all. Just don’t break anything.”

He didn’t mean to sound as menacing he did – but Miguel was a professional, and he knew you would understand how to be careful around his objects. After all, your profession also demanded it.

You nodded and carefully got to work.

You took him in.

He was still massive, even when sitting down.

Careful as to not break anything, you sorted the objects around, arranging them in the best way possible as not to hide Miguel.

“So, tell me., Miguel,” Conversation was the easiest way to put your subjects at ease. Usually, conversation about their craft. “Did you always know you wanted to be a scientist?”

“Is this what you to do get your clients to relax?” Miguel inquired in a rather challenging tone.

“Yes.” You refused to look up, intent on making the ambient look as natural as possible without drawing the attention away from your subject. Once you were satisfied with the result, you removed your camera from its bag and pointed it at Miguel. “This is just a test shot.” And snapped a picture with the flash on.

He seemed to flinch at the bright light, and made a sound closest to a hiss, covering his face with his hands.

“Mierda – can’t you turn that off?” He grumbled.

“Sure. Can I turn on the light?”

“Absolutely not.”

You stared at him in confusion. So, he didn’t want you to turn the lights on, but you also weren’t allowed to use your camera’s flash? Who did this guy think he was?

“I’m sensitive to light – please, don’t point that at me.” This time when he spoke, his voice was softer, almost as if he regretted hissing at you – which in truth, he did.

“I can’t use my flash and I can’t turn on the lights. Am I supposed to photograph you in total darkness?

“You’re the photographer. Figure it out.”

There was a hint of what you thought was a smirk creeping up on his lips, and what you surely imagined to be a very long canine poking out, but you brushed it away as just the light (or the lack of thereof) playing tricks on you.

But he was right, you were the photographer.

You walked over to the window and closed the blinds until the natural light was almost gone.

You were a professional, and a damn good one at that, and you wouldn’t let something as basic as darkness ruin your shoot. Low light photography was a thing. You looked around, scanning your surroundings.

Miguel watched you as you walked around the lab, tinkering with vials, observing the light the windows provided, setting up the tripod in a billion different places. He had to say, he was impressed. You were every bit as competent as you appeared. The beauty was just a bonus.

“Am I giving you too much trouble?” He asked, somewhat concerned. He worried this whole shenanigan was going to give you too much work, but on the other hand, he’d seen you in action. Watched as you dodged stones and ran through cars to get the perfect photo, observed as you contorted yourself into the weirdest poses just to make your photos more dynamic. Miguel knew you could do this, he had witnessed it first hand over and over again.

“Not really, no. I like a challenge.” He grinned smugly at your response. You cross your arms, investigating the room once more. Surely a biologist’s lab had to be more interesting that that, right?

That’s when it came into view.

A huge machine, something straight out of a science fiction movie, as tall as the ceiling. You didn’t know how to describe it – there were cables all around it and a screen surrounded by keys. Definitely the kind of machine you would never approach, in fear of messing it up. Although it was turned off, the lights on its side were glowing bright red and blue, granting the lab a peculiar atmosphere.

What in the world could this possibly do?

“That’s a DNA splicing machine.” Miguel told you, almost as if reading your thoughts.

“Is this part of your research?” You were fascinated by the machine before you. How come you hadn’t noticed when you first walked in? It was creepy, surreal, but also mysterious and intriguing. All traits you could also assign to the man in the room with you.

He nodded and walked up to it, giving the structure a few pats.

“Unfortunately, I cannot tell you much about it. It’s Alchemax protocol. But it is part of my research, and I’m extremely proud of it.”

It was the first time Miguel had opened up about his job, and you decided to pry a bit more. You had an overall idea of what you wanted to do, now all you needed was a subject as ease, willing to relax.

“Don’t worry, I understand. It must be rewarding to know your work has helped so many people.” You smile and nudge him towards the machine. “Wait here.”

Miguel did as you were told, standing next to the enormous machine as you made your way to each window and closed the binders completely. What were you up to now? He decided to keep speaking anyway. This was your job, and you were doing your best. If he couldn’t talk to you as Spiderman, the least he could do was help you out right now. And the way to do that was to talk.

“Indeed. My research has advanced the realms of science and medicine in a truly remarkable way. I am quite proud of the progress I have made.” Miguel leaned into his machine absentmindedly, its red and blue glow illuminating his figure.

How ironic.

“And while I feel a great satisfaction in my work, I’ve also made some rather grave errors in the past.” Miguel doesn’t know why he’s telling you this. He doesn’t know you; he knows there’s a pretty woman who takes his pictures, but that’s about it. Should he be confiding in you? Would you even care?

“Errors?” You returned to his side, setting up your tripod a few feet away from him and toying with its angles. This man was huge – how were you going to fit him inside the frame of your camera?

“When I first started out at Alchemax, I was young and inexperienced. I graduated from Alchemax’s School for Gifted Youngsters and had big aspirations.” He took a big sigh, shaking his head. His dark locks fell in front of his forehead, and he was just about to adjust them, when you took a step towards him and caught his wrist just before he did.

“Don’t – just let me try something.” Miguel considered this, and mumbled a soft “alright” before you adjusted his hair slightly, tugging a rebellious strand right in front of his eyes. There wasn’t much light already, so hiding his face wasn’t ideal – but you had something in mind. “Surely, those aspirations paid out.” You decided to continue talking. It wasn’t even to get him to relax anymore, you were invested in his story, and wondered what could possibly haunt this mountain of a man.

“Only after a few years. Once I started working here, it wasn’t long before I found myself in over my head. I bit more than I could chew, and it caused me problems.” Miguel crossed his arms once more and stared into the distance. There was something laced in his gaze. Longing? Hurt? Regret?

“I’m sure you learned from them.” You angled your camera towards his face again. You’d been snapping pictures of him this whole time, though you weren’t quite sure if he had noticed it. Your camera was very silent, a feature that came in handy when you did not want to be disturbed or interrupted. Or when you did not want a scene to be ruined. “Look at me,” You mumbled, and he faced you again.

You snapped another picture.

“Still. It’s hard to live with the knowledge that you’ve done something so terrible.” You wondered what could possibly be so terrible for him to speak of it like this. One thing at the time.

“C’mere,” Miguel felt your hand on his arm, and he was suddenly being coaxed into a different position. You tilted his head towards the glass, his whole face now covered in red and blue light, forcing him to look away. It looked magnificent up close, beautiful yet harsh eyes looking at you, its irises of a colour you hadn’t figured out yet.

Your gaze trailed down over from his eyes to his strong nose and rested on his full lips. You wondered how they would feel on you – Focus! You came here to work, so work. Do not fantasize about your photo subject.

But it was so hard.

Unbeknownst to you, Miguel was having the exact same thoughts.

He wondered how you’d feel on his arms. Would you cling to him? He wondered how you’d look under him, caged under his arms and legs. Now that he wasn’t in imminent danger, Miguel allowed himself to look at you all he wanted.

Was it just you, or was the room hotter?

Quickly, you scurried away, returning to your camera.

“I’m sure all of the good things you’ve done in the name of science have made up for those past mistakes.” You tell him, snapping a few more shots. He looked majestic. The camera certainly loved him; no matter the angle, he always looked good.

“You think so?” Miguel fixated his gaze on yours once again, and precisely on that moment, you snapped a picture.

Oh.

You looked at your camera’s screen and smiled.

Now this was a photograph worthy of a cover.

You looked at the man in front of you, smile still gracing your lips.

“I do.”

You examined the pictures you’d taken. They all looked great – save for that very last photo.

That one looked incredible. Magnificent.

“I think we’re done here!” You chirped, turning it off and putting it away.

Miguel raised an eyebrow.

“Already?”

“Mhm! I got it. Believe me, these look incredible.” He kept staring at you while you packed your things, unsure of what to say. He was aware he might have come across as rude or cold, but that’s just who he was. And truth be told, he was enjoying this. The company. Your company. Being able to finally share his burdens – even if for a few seconds, and not entirely. It was nice.

He followed you, suddenly appearing nervous.

“So, I usually send my subjects a copy of their prints. I know the Bugle’s my client, but I think you’re entitled to a few copies, don’t you?” There was that dazzling smile once again. Fuck. Miguel ought to make you smile more often – you’re a vision.

“I do,” he said, before shrugging. “You know… You could give me those in person.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, his words eliciting a mix of shock, surprise, and eagerness within you.

“In person?”

“In person. Maybe over some coffee?” He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly self-conscious. What if you said no? Miguel didn’t know you. What if you had a boyfriend? What if you weren’t interested in men? What if he had just made a big fool of himself?

He expected anything. For you to laugh, to walk away, to slap him.

He didn’t expect you to turn away from him, a flustered look adorning your features.

This was the part where you let him down slowly, where you told him you didn’t date your subjects, where –

“Coffee sounds great. I would love some coffee.” And then you quickly retrieved something from your bag – was that a piece of paper? Bending over a nearby bench, you grabbed a pen and scribbled something on it before handing it to him. “That’s my number. Not my rep’s – mine. You can… You can call me if you want to.”

Miguel smiled for the first time in the entire afternoon. And if his chiselled, stoic face was gorgeous, you had no way to describe his smile. It looked so natural, like it suited him. Like he should be always smiling. “I will.” He spoke gently.

A few weeks later, Miguel opened the door to his house to find a big envelope box addressed to him.

After taking it inside and swiftly opening it with his talons, he was met with a pastel coloured post-it that read “Thought you deserved the first edition” and a doddle of a small heart for a signature.

Carefully placing the note on his table, he removed the contents from the envelope.

It was an edition of the Bugle Diario, with his photo plastered on the cover. Specifically, the last one you took, the one you’d gushed about over a cup of coffee and a small cake.

The Mind of the Master: In-depth Interview with Alchemax’s Head Biologist Miguel O’Hara.

Miguel smiled.

His favourite photographer had done it once again.

A/N: I hope you liked it! I really did try my best! :) I'm not quite sure how I feel about this layout, but I like experimenting!

Have an amazing day everyone! <3

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heartfullofleeches · 10 months

Text

[Suggestive - food play mentions]

Birthday host clown darling-

Clown Reader who works at a circus themed ice-cream parlor and hosts for parties. They quickly gain favor with adults for their sweet nature and positive energy. It's easy to tell they're a lil shy in person, but in their element they become the center of attention and live up to their title as a performer. It's cute. Their fan club falls madder in love with their sweet clown watching the work their magic. When it's time to cut the cake, Reader leads the birthday person up to the front and asks them what they'd like to be drawn on the cake. They pour their heart into every piece and some of their admirers wonder if they wouldn't mind putting in a little more of themselves into their work

Reader one day to a party room with another request for their special cakes. The birthday person is a bit older than they're usual group but there's no age limit on fun. They even recognize them as a coworker off duty. Reader happily sets down the cake and starts to list off things they can draw for them. They've done rainbows, dinosaurs, smiley faces, hearts-

"You."

"Ok....is that y-o-u or the letter U?"

"I mean you. The frosting here is good, but I'm craving a different kind right about now."

The guest eyes fall on reader's bright belt buckle before looking up to meet their confused, flustered face - sweat wearing away at their face paint. Could they be any more adorable?

"I'm not quite sure what you mean by that - haha. I-I can draw you a butterfly?"

"I think by now you've gotten the general idea. Don't be shy- it's my birthday."

They do - but they just couldn't. Reader also knows it isn't their birthday. The thought of ruining such a beautiful cake in that way made it hard for them to even look at it. Why were they even humoring the idea in the first place- Customer satisfaction was important, but that's just so unsanitary and immoral and-

Clown Reader timidly tugs down their trousers, in disbelief with themselves for being aroused by the situation. Yan assures them its all perfectly natural and couches/aids them through painting the cake how they'd like it. They instruct reader to just relax and they'll take care of everything from then on. Clown Reader watches in horror as Yan eats the cake afterwards. That was always the intended goal, sure, but they never thought they'd really go through with eating their... The poor clown never understands how someone can be so depraved as to ask for something like that - especially when its order from them again and again even by other patrons. The room eventually just becomes the spot their stalkers fans go to love on their clown and get their just desserts from it

#yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere insert #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere blurb #yandere oc #suggestive #clown reader

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peachesofteal · 11 months

Note

Simon praising Darling for being a good girl when she announces she’s pregnant 😮‍💨 like I’m sorry sir, who gave you the right to be so damn hot when you’re FICTIONAL?!

And Darling is just confused af about wtf he means. Like does she ever find out they fucked with her BC and knocked her up?? I must know, I must have more 😈🤭

He's like, 'you've done so well, darling' and she's like 'wait, what the fuck just happened?'

AU - not canon for Dead Disco Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI. Brief mention of smut, mature themes. Angst. Vomiting. Doctors. Pregnant reader. Relationship issues. Dark themes.

"I've got ya." Johnny coos while he rubs your back where you are kneeling over the toilet, breakfast and bile coming up your throat with every other heave.

"I hate this." you moan between pants, propping your arm up to rest your head. He clucks his tongue, standing to run a cloth under the sink and returning to press it to your forehead gently. It's cold, and soft, and moving in easy circles.

"I know, darling. I know." You push away, slumping into his arms, letting him cuddle you close while he leans back against the bathroom wall and you count his heartbeats from where your head lays on his chest.

The door creaks open, and Simon's halfway inside, peering down at the two of you, mild concern in his eyes while he studies your slouching form.

"Third time today." He notes with a frown, and you nod. They count, keep track of everything, so they can recall it for your doctor's visits and make sure everything is still within 'normal' range. Morning sickness, your doctor has assured them too many times to count, is very normal.

"Morning sickness, the nausea, vomiting, is all normal."

"She's sick multiple times a day." Simon grits out. Johnny shifts his weight nervously, while you sigh and pat his hand comfortingly.

"If we were seeing drastic weight loss, or the panels were coming back outside of normal range, I would be concerned. But that's not happening. So, you've nothing to worry about." You give her a relieved smile, and hope they'll actually listen this time, although you know it's kind of pointless. "So," she claps her hands, and then motions to the table, and Johnny visibly brightens. This is everyone's favorite part, the ultrasound. You always glue your eyes to the screen, holding you breath to see the baby, the little blob in black and grey, your own little bean. You're obsessed with the sound of the heartbeat, taking comfort in its strength, its steadiness. So much so you bought a fetal doppler, just so you could all hear it at home. "Should we take a peek?"

"I'm fine." you assure him, holding a hand out. "Help me up." He grips you by your elbow, pulling you to your feet and into him briefly, so he can nuzzle his nose into your hair with a deep breath. "Now get out, I'm gross. Need to wash my face." You insist, pushing both him and Johnny into the hallway playfully before closing the door.

You have a lot of drawers, in this bathroom. Almost all of them actually, and most of them are a bit of a mess, unorganized, things strewn about. Sometimes, like now, you have to dig around for things. You're looking for something specific, a heavier moisturizer, one that can combat some of the dryness around your nose. Your fingers flip through tubes and tubs and creams, old mascara and half busted hair clips. You tsk, irritated that you're having a hard time finding the blue jar, until-

Your fingers brush against your old birth control pack. Encased in a cream colored piece of plastic, little pills lined up in a row. Just the sight of it frustrates you. After so many years, it finally failed. Finally let you down.

You don't know, but you pull it out. Maybe to look at it closer, to see if it will be expired by the time you finally need it again, or maybe, just to look at the thing that was your one constant since you were practically a child.

Either way. You study it closer, and that's how you notice the corner of the pill tray. The little foil piece on the corner is lifted, just a smidge, just enough for you not to notice, but when you peel it, it comes away so easily, so perfectly, with minimal adhesive. Like's it been pulled away before and put back in place. Like it's been moved.

When you realize, the floor room spins. It shudders around you, bathroom walls curving closer and closer to where you stand in front of the sink, eyes wide, dumbfounded. They wouldn't. They wouldn't. Would they? You blink at yourself in the mirror. You look, tired, but mostly healthy, a true testament to absolute hovering that has been occurring in your life over the past five months. You never lift a finger, you don't want for anything.

Because you're pregnant.

Because you're pregnant, with their baby, that you thought you got knocked up with on accident.

Your stomach curdles. They did this on purpose. Your fingers clench against the stone of the sink while you remember, all those nights when they pressed you to the mattress and made you see stars, while they filled you with their come over and over, every day. They were actively trying. They wanted this. A giant black hole rips open inside of you. It sucks your joy, your happiness, your dreams of future into it immediately. It dismantles everything you thought you knew as truth, takes a hammer and smashes apart every single second of the last five months.

They took your choice away. You stomach flips, and the you’re flinging yourself back in front of the toilet, bile spewing on your lips while you dry heave. It burns, the sting matching the sear of the tears that track down your face.

How could they do this?

#dead disco #peaches asks #peaches writes #ghost x soap x reader #soap x ghost x reader #tw pregnancy #baby trap au

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yelenasdiary · 4 months

Note

Uh,,(is this the correcct way?) i dont know how to make requests, but since urs are opened,

Can u make wandanat or katelena with gn!reader who's been in hydra/redroom for most off her life, and they just go on a date together on valentines and explain to her what valentines is?

thank you!

-confused anon

Love Letters

Pairing: Bishlova x GN! Reader

Summary: Kate and Yelena give you your first real Valentines

Fluff, Pinch of Angst

Translations: Detka (baby),

Warnings: Mentions of Hydra, Reader’s PTSD, Torture & Murder | 1.9K

AC: Thank you for sending me this, I went with Bishlova for something different! I hope you enjoy this xx

Cupid's Dream Masterlist

“Kate Bishop, what are you up too?” Yelena asked with a curious frown as Kate was quick to hide whatever she was doing behind her back. Kate shook her head endlessly, “n-nothing. I was just making some lunch” explained, causing Yelena to cock a brow. “You don’t cook” Yelena replied.

Kate gave up instantly and moved slightly to the right, “I brought some cookies and was just decorating them” she paused, “because you know, it’s Valentines and I thought we could do something special for Y/n” she added as Yelena wandered over to the countertop. Yelena looked up at Kate, “I know you said they might not be up for it, which is why I didn’t do my usual thing, but I want to show them how much they mean to me” Kate rambled on. Yelena placed her hands on the brunette’s hips and pulled her closer.

“Kate Bishop, you’re too kind for your own good. I knew you weren’t going to listen to me so I spoke with them and they’re just having a shower then you can give them your cookies” Yelena explained before kissing Kate softly. The archer’s cheeks turned red; she was never one to hide her blushes. “Thank you” Kate spoke softly.

As bathroom filled up with steam and the warm water ran down your body, your mind couldn’t escape the thoughts of how different your life has been since The Young Avengers rescued you from an underground Hydra base. It’s been a little over four years, but you still deal with a lot of mental health issues from your imprisonment at Hydra. You’ve had a lot of support from Kate’s team, Yelena, and the now semi-retired Avengers. You’ve overcome a lot of bumps in the road but now you have this very different and much more normal lifestyle it takes you a little extra time to adjust.

Holidays are the hardest, especially when people like to bring up their memories from the previous years while your previous year memories involve torture, pain, and murder. Even though you’ve had some time to enjoy these holidays to make new, fun memories but it was never easy. Today being Valentine’s Day, you felt a little pressure to join in whatever plans your girlfriends had made. Last year you simply just weren’t up for anything and they both respected that and let you do your own thing, Kate of course still made sure to tell you how much you mean to her. You couldn’t help by wonder why Kate and Yelena had such a profound love for you as you only ever thought of yourself as damaged goods.

You turned the shower off and began to get dressed for the day, Kate was still decorating the Valentine’s themed cookies while Yelena was giving Fanny and Lucky their daily training session. You wore black jeans, your favourite boots and one of your comfort tees before you made your way into the kitchen of the shared apartment.

“Happy Valentines!!” Kate smiled the moment she saw you. She grabbed the plate of cookies and wandered over to you, placing a kiss on your cheek. “I made these for you” she added happily.

“Thank you, they look really good darling, happy Valentines” you replied with a smile, “I’ll have some after lunch” you added.

“Sure thing love” Kate said before she placed the cookies back on the countertop.

Yelena entered the kitchen with both dogs following behind her, “Happy Valentines detka” she said with a soft smile. You returned the smile, “Happy Valentines love” you replied. You didn’t quite understand Valentine’s Day, you thought it was just an excuse for people to spend more money on gifts or just another day for people to think about other than their day-to-day life.

“So, I have something planned for us to do tonight, if you’re up for it of course and it’s okay if you’re not but” Kate paused before she rushed to the dining table to return with two envelopes in hand, “please read this and then you can decide if you want to do something or not” she went on, handing you the envelops. You were a little confused, but you smiled softly, “do you want me to read these now?” you asked, unsure when you were supposed to read them.

“Yeah” Yelena nodded, “Kate and I are going to go out for an hour to give you the time to read them, if you need us, text us and we will come straight home” she added while Kate threw on her coat. You watched as your girlfriends took the dogs and walked out the door, leaving you in complete silence as you sat down on the sofa. Each envelop at your name on them, and you were able to tell whose letter was who’s by their handwriting. You started with Kate’s letter.

“Dearest Y/n,

Where do I start? There are so many things I want to say but Yelena told me to do my best not to overwhelm you with my feelings. So, if I do overwhelm you, I apologise.

From the moment I saw you, I knew there was something different about you. I can’t imagine the things you’d been going through before we found you that day but when I saw the look in your beautiful eyes, I promised myself in that moment that I would never let anything bad happen to you again and that I would do everything in my power to make you see you are much, much more than just an experiment.

I know you never had a great start to life and if I could change the past, I would do so in a heartbeat!

Okay, Yelena was just reading this over my shoulder, so I am going to get to the point…

I want to show you every single day how much I adore you, how much I love seeing you smile, the sparkle in your eyes when your laughing, God, your laugh is magical! It makes everybody around you join in. I know you think Valentines is a bit of an unnecessary day and I totally see why you think that but, hear me out. It’s really just an excuse for me to give you as many gifts as I like, to buy store brought cookies and decorate them and we all act like I baked them and of course, for me to make you smile. I want everybody to see the person who makes me giggle and happy, I want people to see the smile that I fell in love with.

Please join us to spoil you with love today, I promise I didn’t go overboard.

With all my love,

Kate xoxoxoxo”

You finished Kate’s letter with a chuckle, it was very Kate and you loved that. Next was Yelena’s letter and for some reason you felt a little more nervous to open hers.

“Detka,

I am sure Kate has done most then woo you with her letter, I hope she didn’t ramble too much! But I know whatever she said in her letter, she is right.

You and I come from such different backgrounds to her. When I first met her, I didn’t understand why all the little things mattered so much. You and I, although come from different situations, we share the same mindset. We were weapons, nothing mattered to us but the target. Christmas and Thanksgiving for me was all fake, a set up for some photos and for a moment to think that things were different but the next day I was back to training.

Kate, she loves all these little days and between you and I, she’s made me love them too. It’s easier said than done but we can’t let them have any power over us anymore detka. You are allowed to be happy; you are allowed to enjoy little things; you are allowed to love the things you love and dislike the things you dislike. You can wake up at 3 in the afternoon and that’s okay.

The point is, it’s okay. You’re okay. Maybe not fantastic or as happy as you want but to me and to Kate, you are perfect.

We love you detka and there’s nobody else we would want to do this life thing with. It’s you detka, you make us better, stronger and no words will every explain just how much you mean to us. So, join us tonight or don’t, we will never hold be mad at you for doing what you need to do in the moment. You have the power now darling, you always had.

Love,

Yelena x”

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you folded Yelena’s letter and placed it on the coffee table. You smiled softly to yourself as you reached for your phone. Your girlfriends’ words floated around in your mind as your thumb hovered over Kate’s phone number, your heart felt full, full of love that you wanted to share with them so instead of calling Kate, you called Wanda for a little help.

----

“Thank you for help Wands, I am so sorry I had to drag you away from Nat” you smiled at Wanda as you walked her to the door. “Don’t stress honey, they are going to love it” Wanda replied, “if you need anything, you know you can always reach out” she added.

“I will, thank you. Happy Valentines” you replied.

Once Wanda left, you double check to make sure everything was perfect before you called Kate. It was very handy that Wanda could pull anything from her magic, the apartment was littered with pink and purple rose petals, candles lit up the apartment while the freshly made pizza was sitting in the centre of the dining table just waiting to be ripped into.

“Kate, I’m ready, I would love to do something with you and Yelena” you smiled to yourself as Kate answered the phone. “We’ll be back in 10! Get ready, I have something special planned!” Kate replied before hanging up.

It was the longest 10 minutes of your life, your palms began to sweat, your mind racing in hopes that you didn’t go overboard with this little surprise and that Kate wouldn’t be disappointed.

Your heart skipped a beat when you heard the door open, you stood at the end of the small hall with two roses and a welcoming, warm smile. “Bab-“ Kate paused the moment she saw you, “we’re home” she added slowly.

“I know you’ve made plans and we can do them, I just” you paused as you took a few steps closer to your girlfriends, closing the gap distance between you all, “I just want you both to know how much those letters mean to me and I am really sorry that I’ve been so closed minded to days like these, I love you both so, so much” you went on, handing them a rose each.

“To hell with my plans, this is perfect” Kate said, smelling her rose and embracing you in a tight hug. Yelena smiled lovingly you before Kate pulled back only to kiss you deeply. Your hands landed on her hips, pulling her closer to you to deepen the kiss.

“I’m proud of you” Yelena mouthed as you and Kate pulled away for air. You smiled softly at her, “we shouldn’t let the pizza get cold” you said.

“You got pizza?! This is the best Valentine’s Day ever!!” Kate said before making her way into the dining room. “There’s almost mac n cheese” you said as Yelena gently pulled you close to her, “You’re amazing, don’t ever forget that” she said before kissing you deeply.

If you want to be on the taglist for my work, please click HERE.

#yelenasdiary asks #anon #fanfiction #yelena belova #marvel #Kate bishop #bishlova x reader #bishlova #yelena belova x reader #kate bishop x reader #happy valentines

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running-with-kn1ves · 4 months

Text

PUNISHMENT: A Reward

A/N: Decided to name our ‘PUNISHMENT’ fic boy Malachi, lemme know if this is a win or a fat L my scrumptious pogchamps. ALSO happy valentines day! (Posting this early let me be)

CW: Toxic relationship, possessive/obsessive behavior, suggestive themes, mentioning future seggsual acts/fantasies

Synopsis: Out on a group date for Valentine's Day with your possessive, jealousy-ridden boyfriend is never a good idea, especially when he finds the special surprise you’re wearing for him.

“Hrmm… seems like they have a lot of Valentine's themed stuff on the menu.”

“Well it IS the season! No other reason for it being so packed in here...” One of your friends across the table perked up, slightly annoyed at the stuffy atmosphere.

She was right, every table was filled, every booth full of chattering couples or first blind dates, even double or thruple dates just like the one you were on.

You were lucky your friend's boyfriend had managed to snag this place a week in advance, else you might be thigh to thigh with everyone else in a tinier booth. Ha, as if YOUR boyfriend would allow that; you'd probably be on the edge of the shared booth seat, nearly falling off just to save you from being ‘too close’ to anyone else, even your own friends.

“Annoying… I don't get why going out on Valentine's Day is so important, what happened to dates in the privacy of your own home.” Said the devil you were thinking of, that comment nudging to how he was far more in favor of spending a “romantic” evening home alone with you instead of being here with your two friends and their spouses.

“Awe, is puppy dog Malachi upset he has to share? We planned this weeks in advance, so suck it up, we have a right to see OUR friend tonight.” That same friend hissed.

Your other friend nodded. He would’ve added on, if it weren’t for the death stare your boyfriend was currently drilling into everyone else across the table. You hadn’t been out in a group setting like this in… who knows how long.

“Oh, really? Don’t fucking--”

“C’mon you guys,” You grabbed onto Malachi’s thigh, a tight squeeze making him stop in his angry tracks to look down.”I’m here right now, shouldn’t we be catching up, not fighting? I missed you, missed this.”

Your sincerity seemed to ease them up, a flash of contrition on your female friend’s face. She hated your boyfriend, clearly, wearing a scowl when she turned back to Mr. moody himself. He rested his face on his palm, looking at the other couples every now and again, always keeping a short glance at you out of the corner of his eye to make sure you weren’t having too much fun.

One of the spouses --you had forgotten the name of by now after the evening’s short introductions-- had begun talking, complaining about coworkers or customers, one or the other.

Wow, has it been so long that your friends have completely different lives now, new people that they spend their time with that you weren’t even told about? Well, its not like you’ve exactly been open to receiving that kind of news, or able to be, with so little time to make phonecalls lately, your phone always seeming to disappear, phone numbers no longer existing in your contacts… it was truly a miracle you managed to have this outing, and Malachi thought so too.

“I swear if she prods at me again,” Your jealous guard dog of a boyfriend started, hand clenching the red, heart-embroidered table cloth.

“Take it easy, okay? I know you don’t want to be here but-- just do it a little longer, for me. Thats what we agreed, right?”

You took his hand in yours, bringing up his clenched fist to your lips. You thanked the skies that physical affection always seemed to drown out his fiery temper. You wondered how much longer that’d last.

“Fine. But I can’t stand looking at them anymore, come ‘ere.” Malachi patted his thigh, hands moving to your hips to help bring you to your new seat.

“Seriously? We’re in a.. A nice restaurant, with my friends--”

He gave you a knowing look, one that said ‘if you don’t listen, i’ll drag your ass back to the car without the pleasure of friendly goodbyes.’

You didn’t know if you could handle the embarrassing shit he put you through anymore. It tested the strength of your will and the integrity of your soul at this point.

You did as he demanded, slowly making your way to sit on the edge of his lap. Most of those around you didn’t seem to notice, an occasional glance looking to see what you were doing, but ultimately going back to the lively story of one of the nameless significant others. You tried to hover above him, afraid to fully commit to sitting down on top of him, but a small ‘what are you doing’ and forced downward push of your hips made your butt make soft contact with his lap.

“That’s right… that’s better.” He cleared his throat, putting one arm around your waist and the other on your knee. You directly blocked his view, your boyfriend not moving to see the rest of the group, instead leaning against you like a perfectly shaped body pillow.

“Can’t you atleast act normal? Don’t you have any shame around other people,” You whispered, knowing that one of your friends was reading the uncomfortable expression on your face and was in turn, giving a similar expression of discomfort.

“Hey, you know how bad I can be, this isn’t even the worst of it. You want me to really embarrass you?”

A waiter broke the quiet spat you were having with him, asking if you’d like another drink. He didn’t acknowledge the man behind you, either out of not seeing him or to purposefully avoid the dark eyes digging into his soul behind your shoulder.

You croaked out a polite “yes please,” looking for your friend’s fellow responses. They all answered in kind, the waiter scurrying away to another busy set of tables.

Malachi scoffed, coiling around you tighter.

“D’you see that? I knew we shouldn’t have come out here, in front of prying eyes… bet he’s hit on every other pretty thing he’s seen walk in here, so don’t get any ideas.”

You almost turned around to gawk at your boyfriend, such an insensitive and insecure string of words wounding you.

“I would never..”

You almost let him ruin the rest of your evening, the dreadful pit of wanting to go home entering your tired mind. But you promised yourself you’d try to make an effort in repairing your friendships, attempting to memorialize your friend’s smiles and laughs, trying to come up with the names of their spouses you had just heard a half hour ago. If you wouldn’t see them again for a while, atleast you could have this.

And with the two-second memory your boyfriend often displayed,(except for when it came to your “betrayals”) he was enamored with something new.

“Oh, what do we have here…” Malachi tip-toed down the elastic waistband of your pants, looking at the lacey red lingerie underneath. It wasn’t hard to spot, not when it was a drastic change from your usual tame undergarments. Well, tame for him, he had seen them all at this point.

You wouldn’t have noticed his prodding peculiarity if it weren’t for that worrying heightened pitch in his voice, one that always started trouble. Fingers nipping your tummy and around your wrist weren’t unusual, you had become accustomed to it from how he pawed at you at home, never seeming satisfied, but this, wasn’t the usual lack of personal space.

“Hey! You weren’t supposed to see that.” You slapped his hand away, having which already gotten a full touch of the goods you were hiding.

“What is that supposed to mean--” Malachi started, and you knew he was about to expect the worst. You shut him up as fast as you could.

“It’s supposed to be for tonight, idiot!” You whispered with a harsh tone, starting to get fed up with his childish reactions, which always seemed to jump to conclusions. “...Did you forget that it’s Valentine’s day or what?”

You barely let the words escape from between your teeth, not wanting to admit the silent internet escapade you went on to find something that wouldn’t tear your ass in half or be so tight you’d be left with more marks from it than him. But even so, after the sneaking around in trying to catch the package before he could and clearing out your emails as soon as possible, he still managed to see it before you had planned.

Now, you wondered if it was worth it, with the lace itching your chest and the other giving you a wedgie.

“awe.. no way, for me? All for me?” Malachi was promptly sweet on you, much different than the heel-biting mood he was in a short few minutes ago.

You leaned back to get close to his ear, shifting your eyes anxiously. You really didn’t want your friends to know about the violently ravenous side of your boyfriend that wouldn’t stop him from making a scene about it here and now, which you anxiously tried to prepare for in case of the worst. “It’s for when we get back home…so lets just enjoy our time here, just sit still with me for a little longer.” You tried your usual ‘gentle parenting’ method, holding the heavy knuckles around your waist, to soothe him into letting you spend just a little bit longer with your friends.

Malachi kicked his feet, exasperating at this newfound interest and the ways he could torture you with it, could make you beg him for its secrecy. Oh how he could envision having you at his mercy, so cute and sexy but ultimately deserving punishment for going behind his back about something so temptatious, something another man could see and take if he weren’t there.

“But now, baby I don’t know if I can wait.” He grinned, raking his teeth over his bottom lip so much it looked like it hurt. You felt him shift underneath you, leaning up to grind against your backside. “Man, you really should’ve hid it better, ‘cause now its all I can think about..”

You rolled your eyes, feeling his heavy exhale against your cheek. Your friends were too immersed in their own conversations with their loved ones to notice anything else, legs strewn over one another and fingers interlocked as they felt the cheap haze of their Sweetheart Cocktail’s and Rosé’s of Love. You would’ve much preferred to be tipsy along with them by now, but the truth is you were too nervous with the possessive man beside you to truly let loose anywhere other than alone. On top of that, the scolding you’d get from him for being so relaxed was not worth the extra headache.

And yet, the wanton expression he held for you, the hands that fiddled to get deep and play with his surprise, made you feel so wanted. More wanted than your friends had made you feel this evening. They just looked at you with concerned frowns and confused cocks of their heads as they questioned to why you were still with this crazed maniac.

“What I would do to bend you over in front of these idiots, make you do more than say my name while wearing these adorable lacey little--”

“Don’t tell me you’re already thinking of heading out.” Your female friend piped up, looking at the credit card Malachi put on top of the split receipt that has been sitting lonesome for a good while.

He almost broke, annoyed at the sudden interruption.

“Afraid so,” Your anticipating boyfriend gleamed, not even her sour attitude dampening the rising excitement in his perverted mind and tightening pants. “We have some other plans to attend to.”

“What could be more important than friends?” She asked, looking at you to advocate against your controlling spouse.

You felt a greedy palm reach up your shirt, falling back down to paw for the thin garment below your waistline.

“If we don’t go now.. I don’t know how much longer I can wait. Can’t promise that I won’t rip these fucking shorts off you here to see what all is underneath.” He whispered against you through gritted teeth, barely able to stop from kissing you raw.

“We’ll stay… just until the waiter comes back for his tip.” You choked out, not letting on about the roll of Malachi’s hips that pressed you up against the table.

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