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muertawrites · 4 years

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Aphrodite Kallipygos (Zuko x Plus Size Reader) [Modern AU]

Summary: Zuko takes up an art class as part of his therapy and ends up falling in love with a woman who’s a work of art in her own right.

Word Count: 3,500

Disclaimer: There’s a scene in this fic where a couple of thin girls engage in some rude behavior and are criticized in a few none-too-kind words. I want to make it very clear that this scene does not reflect my views of thin people or body positivity - these characters are meant to be a metaphor for greater culture and its strict, unrealistic views of what women should look like.

Author’s Note: I hate rom coms but after writing this fic it dawned on me that I would be excellent at writing them. Also, this one goes out to all my art hoes out there. I geek out pretty hard about art history in this one.

Speaking of which, I reference real-world cultures within the structure of the Avatar universe in this one as well. Something I like to do when I zone out is think about which actual countries would belong to which bending nations; my heritage is primarily from the British Isles, and what with liths like Stonehenge and the hella castles hanging around out there, I think we’d be earth benders - same with cultures like the ancient Egyptians and the Pueblos. I also love the idea of Pacific Islanders who can bend both water and lava, and Incan air benders, and I really wish the idea of global cultures as benders were explored more in the Avatar universe.

Have I mentioned that I’m a massive fucking nerd?

~ Muerta

Zuko never considered himself much of a creative. When he thought about it, he realized that that part of his life had never really been explored; his father always pushed him to focus solely on his bending and combat skills, never allowing even the consideration of other practices or hobbies. As much as Zuko was passionate about the martial arts he'd mastered, he also came to learn that he never had a choice in being passionate about anything else.

“I think you should take an art class,” his therapist suggested. “It would be a good outlet for you, and one that isn't directly influenced by your family.”

“I don't think I've ever drawn anything, though,” Zuko admitted. “I wouldn't be any good.”

“It's not about being good,” his therapist explained, “it's about exploring things that weren't available to you in your youth, freedom of expression. Consider it - there's a shop in this neighborhood that offers classes.”

She handed him a business card adorned with an array of different art styles, from delicate watercolors to bright, bold cartoons; it read, “classes for everything” in a cheerful, clearface font.

Zuko shrugged and pocketed the card. A week later, he was enrolled in a basic studio art course.

He arrived for his first class embarrassingly early, passing under the bell of the shop’s front door twenty minutes before it was scheduled to begin.

The building that housed the shop looked to be older than the rest of the neighborhood around it; the storefront was tiny, with crowded shelves lining each wall and tables and racks wound throughout the center of the space, creating a maze that led to the checkout counter. The room’s ceilings were high, supported by beams in a dark stained wood that matched the floor below. Paper mache sculptures and handmade lanterns hung from the rafters, and the simple, antique plaster walls were decorated with paintings and sketches, likely given by the shop’s clientele. From somewhere in the back, a radio sang folk music, accompanied by the hum of an electric fan.

Zuko wandered through the labyrinthine merchandise displays until he reached the register, where he was met with the single most beautiful sight he may have ever laid eyes on.

You stood behind the counter, leaned over a textbook with a pencil in hand, tapping it back and forth over the pages; you bit your lip in concentration, a few strands of your hair falling loose from the messy knot atop your head and over your cheeks, though you were too focused on your reading to care. An apron bearing the shop’s logo was tied around your waist, emphasizing your body's dramatic curves.

To Zuko, you were gorgeous. He couldn't place what exactly about you allured him; all he knew was that his pulse had quickened to a near dangerous pace.

You looked up at him when you noticed you were no longer alone, flashing him a kind, somewhat distracted smile. He nodded curtly, too nervous to do anything but stare.

“Can I help you?” you greeted him politely.

He cleared his throat, his voice coming out a pitch higher than normal as he spoke.

“I'm here for the art class,” he told you.

You smirked a little, peering down to check the time on your phone.

“It's a little early,” you said. “I was just about to start setting up. You could help me if you want? So you're not so bored while you wait?”

“Yeah,” Zuko mumbled, “yeah, sure.”

You grinned, waving him behind the counter and through a door to the back room. To his surprise, what he expected to be a minuscule stockroom turned out to be a space larger than the actual shop, lined on one wall with massive warehouse windows that poured late afternoon sunlight into the room. Metal shelves and boxes lay haphazardly about, mixed in with a scattering of easels, pottery spinners, canvases, and other art supplies. You directed your guest to a stack of chairs in the corner, instructing him to line them in a half circle in an empty portion of the room while you placed the easels.

“So, do you have a name?” you asked, attempting to make conversation that could drown out the repetitive radio drone.

“Zuko,” he introduced himself.

You stopped what you were doing, fixing him with an awed, slightly amused gape.

“Firelord Zuko?” you wondered.

He blushed, nodding.

“Oh spirits, I'm sorry I didn't bow!” you exclaimed, dropping into a low curtsy. The gesture was mixed with equal parts mirth and genuine respect; Zuko was unsure how to respond, his heart flickering as he watched you.

“I heard you were living somewhere in the city,” you continued after making your own introduction, setting an easel in front of each chair he positioned. “Not into the whole royalty thing?”

Zuko shrugged. He focused on his work, too nervous to look you in the eye.

“Just weird going back there,” he told you. “I don't really want taxpayer money going to making sure I live above my means.”

You leaned against the last chair he set down, smiling warmly at him.

“That's very respectable,” you responded. “Thank you. Y’know, as someone who pays taxes.”

Zuko chuckled softly as you handed him a bin of art supplies, instructing him to set one of each item at every station. He did as he was told, stealing glances at you whenever he was sure you weren’t looking.

“So, uh… do you own this place?” he asked, fumbling over his words.

“Oh, no, this is my professor’s shop,” you replied. “I just work here part time.”

“You’re a student?”

You shook your head.

“Nope. Graduated last year. I work days at the history museum downtown. I also give art history classes here, and help out with the ones Professor Cong teaches.”

“Oh.”

Zuko paused, unsure of what else to say.

“... They teach a different type of history just for art?” he asked after a moment.

You laughed, covering your mouth to muffle the sound and apologizing, giving him a little nod as you collected yourself.

“Yes. Some people even get whole degrees in it,” you giggled. “Not that it’s a useful field to learn anything about.”

Zuko shrugged, trying to shake off the embarrassment of sounding stupid in front of such a cute girl; little did he know, you found the question beyond endearing.

“It sounds important,” he contested. “I’ve been meeting historians from all over the world to correct all the propaganda from the past hundred years. It never occurred to me that I would need different historians for art.”

You smiled at him, meeting him where he stood and handing him one of the sketch pads from your bin. His cheeks pinkened, his eyes darting away from yours as he took it and mumbled a “thank you”.

“I like you, Firelord Zuko,” you decided aloud. “My classes are on Wednesdays. You can come if you want - free of charge.”

Zuko nodded, swallowing heavily as he met your gaze once again.

“Thank you,” he replied. “I appreciate it.”

You laughed a little bit, taking his now empty bin and returning both to their place on a nearby shelf. The shop’s bell rang from beyond the threshold and you went back to the front counter, telling Zuko to take a spot wherever he liked. He sat in the front row; wherever he thought he could be closest to you.

For the next five weeks, Zuko attended not only his studio art class, but your art history class, showing up early to each lesson so he could spend time alone with you. Despite the fact that you invited him to sit in, he paid the fee for the second course, not wanting you to go without the extra pay for your work - he found a doodle of a turtle duck on his seat the next time he showed up, the fuzzy little penciled duckling telling him he was a terrible listener, but thanking him anyway (with a heart scribbled in beside the words).

With your guidance, Zuko learned that there was much more to art than just vibrant colors and pretty decoration. Everything in art, it turned out, had significance, each piece and work holding insight into the people and cultures who created it; you spoke passionately about the art of the Egyptians, who used specific shapes and colors in their imagery to tell stories beyond the written word, about the mysteries of prehistoric structures that revealed how early humanity was much more sophisticated and interconnected than considered at a glance, about the symbols that translated and influenced across centuries to shape how each nation, each culture, portrayed themselves into the modern world. He found himself hanging on every word, falling even more deeply enamored with you with each moment he spent with you.

It didn’t take you long - what with the easy, pleasant conversations you shared before classes - to discover that Zuko lived relatively close to you, only two stops away on the local metro. Knowing this, you often saw each other on the days you weren't at the shop, meeting at the station between each of your respective neighborhoods and having coffee or dinner in one of its many cafes, talking about anything and everything and managing to pass several hours together in what seemed like the blink of an eye. You loved being with Zuko, finding the more you did it, the less you wanted your rendezvous to end; you thought about him all the time, getting all kinds of giddy whenever he crossed your mind.

On one of your extracurricular excursions, you and Zuko wandered around the local high street, marveling at the different streetside vendors and dreamily window shopping behind the glass of the upscale boutiques, doing little more than enjoying each other’s company. It was a hot day, and along your way, Zuko stopped at a coffee stand to get you each something cold to drink.

A pretty young woman in line in front of you eyed you up and down, her gaze flicking from between you and Zuko with disgust. She jabbed her slim, graceful elbow into her equally as flawless friend’s side, whispering something in the other woman’s ear as they both glared at you, sniggering cruelly behind flat stomachs and angular, willowy frames.

You sneered at them, making a point of hooking your arm within Zuko’s and pressing your much wider hip against his, the poison of the encounter sinking into your skin and infecting your thoughts. Zuko noticed your change in demeanor immediately, steering you away from the scene as soon as your drinks were served.

“You okay?” he asked, still holding tight to your arm.

“Fine,” you quipped, biting back tears. “Just a couple of pretty bitches proving how fucking hideous they are on the inside.”

“Wait, seriously?”

Zuko halted, pulling you to the side of the street and out of the way of traffic. He lay a hand on your shoulder, the firm, able grasp of his palm somehow making you feel even worse.

“Someone would really make fun of you?” he wondered, outraged and incredulous. “Why?”

You shook your head, smiling defeatedly as your lower lip quivered.

“People have made fun of me since I was a kid, Zu,” you told him, speaking as if he should’ve just assumed it. “I’m fat. You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

“So?” Zuko replied. You were so shocked, you physically leaned away from him, raising your eyebrows. “Yeah, you’re fat. That doesn’t mean you’re not pretty. I… I think you’re really pretty. Gorgeous, even. You’re beautiful.”

You blinked at him, taken aback. He gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, his eyes never once leaving yours.

“... Did I break you?” he tried after a moment, sounding concerned that it was a genuine possibility.

You laughed, shaking your head in feverish disbelief, attempting to clear the confusion that fogged your battered brain.

“No, I just… Nobody’s ever called me pretty and fat before.”

Zuko shrugged.

“Both are true,” he told you. “I like your body. You look like one of those Greek sculptures. Of the goddesses.”

You stared at him, searching his eyes for any sign of dishonesty or patronization; all you found looking back at you was the clumsily genuine man you were quickly falling in love with.

“... Have I ever told you about Aphrodite Kallipygos?” you asked.

Zuko shook his head, as confused as you had been a few seconds ago.

“She’s a statue of Venus,” you explained. “She’s got her dress raised up over her backside, and when they found her originally, she didn’t have her head; the guy who restored her sculpted it so that she was looking back at herself, admiring her body. There’s even a whole folktale about a pair of brothers who fell in love with two women because they had, like, beautifully fat asses and the town built a temple dedicated to Venus and her butt. The name literally translates to ‘Aphrodite of the Beautiful Buttocks’.”

Zuko chuckled, raising the hand at your shoulder to cup your cheek.

“See?” he said. “Men have worshiped thick, juicy butts since the dawn of time!”

You laughed, your cheeks turning bright red as you buried your face in your hands, leaning forward to rest your forehead on his chest and further hide yourself.

“Zuko, oh my god,” you breathed. “Promise me you’ll never say that out loud in a public setting ever again, please. You’re the fucking Firelord for Tui’s sake.”

Zuko chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist and hugging you tightly.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, still grinning. “Made you feel better, though.”

You pulled away from him, affectionately punching him in the shoulder. He laughed, gasping at you in mock reproach before pressing a finger into your side, shocking you with a burst of static electricity; you cackled as you jumped away, sticking your tongue out at him.

Zuko felt a rush of lightheadedness as he watched you, savoring the sound of your laugh and the radiance of your smile. It was then he realized he was in love with you.

The next studio art class focused on model drawing - more specifically, a nude model. Zuko, having been raised in what was arguably the most reserved family in the world, was nervous about the idea of having to sit in front of a stranger for an hour, not only staring at their naked body, but immortalizing it in graphite on a page.

He was mortified when he arrived at the class and found you sitting in the corner, wrapped in nothing but a silk dressing gown.

As you climbed the platform you were meant to model on, your limbs rattled. You began to question your sanity, wondering what you thought you were doing offering to pose for the class, what kind of statement you thought it would make. You faced enough judgement from others about your weight with your clothes on - what the hell did you think they would do when you stood before them completely naked, every bump and crevice on full display for them to gawk at and criticize?

You glanced to the side at Professor Cong, seeking some sort of assurance or comfort from him; he, being the seasoned professional in his mid-sixties that he was, sat reclined in a chair in his Hawaiian shirt and flip flops, scrolling totally undisturbed through Pinterest on his phone. Honestly, you expected no less - his obtuse reactions in the face of the awkward and uncomfortable were basically a superpower.

Taking a deep breath, you untied the knot holding your dressing gown together and let it fall, slipping gracefully from your shoulders and to the floor. You assumed a comfortable, classic pose, purposely facing yourself away from the man whose eyes you could feel searing into your back.

Zuko’s breath hitched as he watched you undress. Though he only saw the full of your body for a moment, he was captivated. The swell of your breasts and curve of your stomach sent him into a dizzy spell, his mouth going dry and his skin heating with a noticeable flush. The rolls of your back, the ripples and divots along your thighs and rump, the stripes etched into your skin like the veins through a granite block, he drank in every part of you, moulding every detail with a focused hand as he sketched. He made note every scar and beauty mark. Once or twice, his mind drifted towards the salacious, imagining how your body would feel beneath his, soft and supple, releasing exalted breaths and enraptured moans, your nails dragging down his back as he drove you closer and closer to infinity…

He inhaled sharply, snapping himself back to his work. You were Venus, Minerva, Diana - a goddess among men. He would gladly spend the rest of his life worshiping you.

The moment the class ended, you gathered your dressing gown and made a beeline for the employee bathroom, getting back into your clothes as quickly as you could physically manage. The experience of nude modeling wasn’t nearly as harrowing as you expected it to be; you actually found it kind of freeing, being able to show yourself to a room full of other people and come out of it unscathed, in fact feeling quite beautiful - what had you nervous was the fact that you’d have to face Zuko immediately after the fact, seeing as you took the train home together after classes. His was the only opinion you cared about, and you wanted nothing more than to convince yourself that he hadn’t judged you as harshly as the self-hatred brainwashed into you made you believe.

When you emerged from the bathroom, Professor Cong stood in front of one of the empty easels in the back, smirking at the drawing the student had left there.

“Your boyfriend left you his piece,” he teased.

You blushed, glaring at him as you approached and snatched the sketch from his hands.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you tried in vain to defend yourself.

Professor Cong just chuckled.

“I’ll believe that when I see evidence to the contrary,” he replied.

You looked down at the paper in your hand and felt the breath drain from your lungs, your heart and stomach soaring into your throat.

Zuko had drawn you in the image of Venus, your body draped in gossamer fabric and your head turned over your shoulder, eyes cast downward and lips slightly parted in a blissful, ethereal expression. In the corner of the page, he’d written “Aphrodite Kallipygos” in his sweeping handsome script, beneath which was his signature and the date. You’d never once seen yourself look so beautiful, let alone in the eyes of someone you loved so fiercely.

You swallowed hard, rolling the drawing and securing it with a hair tie from your bag before exiting the shop through the back, knowing Zuko would be in the alley waiting for you.

“Hey,” he greeted you when you appeared through the storeroom door. “Are you okay? You looked really ner-”

You interrupted him by throwing your arms around his neck, slamming your lips into his in a desirous kiss. It took him less than a second to recover himself from the shock of the action and curl his arms around your waist, pressing his body against yours and lifting you every so slightly off the ground, kissing you just as hard as you kissed him. When you parted, you were breathless, your cheeks fiery red and your lips swollen the color of vermilion. Zuko smiled at you, one side of his mouth curling up slightly higher than the other.

“So you liked it?” he asked.

You laughed, nodding.

“Zuko, I loved it,” you gasped. “I love you. I think I loved you as soon as I met you but that sort of thing is really cliche and stupid to admit.”

Zuko chuckled, raising his hand to your cheek and kissing you again, his lips soft and tender this time around. You sighed happily into his mouth, closing your eyes and losing yourself in the feeling of his body sharing the same space as yours.

“I think I loved you the moment I met you, too,” Zuko confessed, his nose grazing against yours as he pulled away. “But you’re right. That sort of thing is really stupid and cliche.”

You giggled, tugging gently on the collar of his jacket.

“Come on,” you prompted him. “Let’s go back to my apartment. You’ve already seen me naked; we need to make it even.”

Zuko laughed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and leading you out of the alley, his side pressed firmly against yours.

“Fair,” he agreed. “But if you want me to pose for any art, you’ll have to sign some paperwork. I’m still Firelord, you know.”

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zxanthe · 4 years

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jealousy

for @soulxmakaweek day 3: jealousy

also available on ao3 and ff.net

side note: The Soul Eater manga was first released in 2004.

It isn’t that Soul is jealous, exactly.

Maka is, beneath the know-it-all and vaguely homicidal exterior, a kind person. It’s one of the things he likes most about her. He remembers the first time he played the piano for her – it feels like a lifetime ago, now – how she’d smiled and clapped after he finished, even though he knew she didn’t get it, really. But the wonder sparkling there in her green eyes, the open and gut-wrenching genuineness of the delight and enjoyment brazenly plastered on her face – no one had ever looked at him like that in his whole entire life, and even though he didn’t let it show he knew right then and there he’d follow this girl to the ends of the earth if she asked him to.

When she enfolds Crona in an embrace instead of dealing a killing blow, he doesn’t bother trying to keep the fond smile off his face, because that’s so typical of her. Always taking in strays.

So that’s why he wonders if it’s the madness, not just in him but in the world now that the Kishin Asura is free and raging, that makes a hard knot of something nagging and awful weigh in his chest like a stone when he sees Maka and Crona together. The Little Demon doesn’t help at all, always whispering ugly little nothings in the quiet in-between moments when he’s brushing his teeth or picking at the guitar he keeps on the wall of his room, things like she only cares about your weapon form you know and she loves them more than she ever loved you and (worst of all) she’s going to realize who you are and leave.

(It’s not like he isn’t used to people leaving. His father left him in all but name, preferring to shut himself up in his studio rather than deal with his children. His brother left him to go to college and make a name for himself. His grandmother left the planet entirely, going wherever dead people go.)

But he knows, deep down in his gut, that Maka isn’t like that. She takes her commitments seriously. She’s his meister, and he’s her weapon. He has to trust her. Has to trust that she wouldn’t leave him unless something bad happened. Something really, really bad.

Like a new best friend? the demon whispers, not bothering to hide the malicious glee in his voice. Soul just grits his teeth and tells him to shut the fuck up.

(He doesn’t want to resent either of them, despite the demon’s urgings and his own idiot, uncool feelings.)

But he can’t deny the reality - it feels like she spends more time with Crona than him nowadays. Soul isn’t exactly averse to that, but it still rankles, because Maka used to spend most of her time with him, or at least around him. But the kid’s had a hard life, harder than his by a long shot, and someone like Maka is good for them. In the short time they’ve been at the DWMA, Soul’s noticed them coming out of their shell a little more each day. It makes him wonder if he was something like that when he first arrived, fresh from New York, a fish out of water.

So that’s why, when Maka invites Crona over for a movie night one Friday after classes, he doesn’t object, despite the way his chest tightens a little.

“I-is that okay?” Crona asks, darting nervous glances towards Soul, who’s standing a little ways behind Maka. He doesn’t really know Crona all that well yet. The sentiment is mutual. Soul cringes inwardly, equal parts ashamed and nervous and just a little satisfied, damn it damn it not cool at all!

“’Course it is,” Soul makes himself say, and hopes that nobody notices the way his voice threatens to crack. “It’s Maka’s turn to cook, though, so you might wanna, uh. Eat beforehand.”

Maka rounds on him, her green eyes narrowed. “At least I don’t burn freaking rice!”

“Yeah, yeah, I was making a joke. Is that a crime?”

“Well, it wasn’t very funny.” She turns back to Crona with a roll of her eyes. “Anyway, tonight at 7 sound good? We can meet you at the Skullbuster.”

“Um…will there be many other p-people there? Besides you and…S-Soul?”

Maka shakes her head and smiles reassuringly. “No, don’t worry. I know large get-togethers still stress you out. It’ll just be us three.”

Crona darts one more glance at Soul. He’d smile, but his face feels like wood and his teeth would probably scare the kid half to death. He settles for a nod instead. One cool guy to another. Crona smiles hesitantly. “Yeah. That s-sounds great.”

“You good?” Maka asks him, once they’re outside the school and have said their goodbyes to their friends.

He shoots her a questioning look. “Huh? Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You just felt a little off earlier, that’s all,” she says.

Damn her and her soul perception. Soul just shakes his head. “Maybe your soul perception is just malfunctioning.”

She whaps him with the paperback she’s carrying in her hand. “Rude!”

“Ow, fuck you too!”

They walk down to the Skullbuster after Maka finishes cooking, leaving a plate of brownies cooling on the counter and a foil tray of mac n’ cheese being kept warm in the oven. Soul doesn’t think he’ll ever get over their whacko naming conventions in Death City – did they really have to replace the classic Blockbuster logo with a lurid blue and yellow skull biting a movie ticket with its cartoonishly sharp teeth? No, no they didn’t, but they did anyway, so here they fucking are. Soul shoots it a cautious look – it’s definitely more interesting than the usual, all things considered. Crona’s already waiting for them directly beneath the sign, a tall slim figure in their black – robe? Dress? Soul still isn’t sure what to make of it. He raises his hand in a wave as Maka calls out a greeting and bounds over to give them a hug. Soul ignores the twinge in his chest, gritting his teeth at the echo of laughter he hears from the demon.

Crona still looks spooked at the contact, but at least they raise their arms and pat her awkwardly on the back this time. Progress. Soul offers them a fist. Crona looks at it uncomprehendingly.

“Fistbump,” says Soul. Jesus, poor kid. “You make your hand into a fist – yeah, like that, now tap it with mine.”

Crona does so, feather-light and hesitant. Soul offers them a smile and then withdraws his fist, wiggling his fingers as he does so. Crona imitates him, awkwardly and with a slight frown.

“See, easy,” says Soul, cringing inwardly. He shouldn’t have done the finger wiggle, dammit, Crona wouldn’t get it and it just made them feel weird, ugh, why is he like this?

Maka, meanwhile, is smiling at the display. She reaches for Crona’s hand, easily, naturally, and leads them into the store. Soul trails after them, trying valiantly to ignore the way the knot in his chest aches.

“So, whatcha wanna watch?” Maka asks Crona, whose eyes widen in fear in the face of making an evening-altering decision.

“It’s okay,” says Maka gently. “Soul and I are fine with whatever you pick, right Soul?”

“Yeah,” Soul says, though secretly he’s hoping that Crona doesn’t pick a kids’ movie or a rom-com or something boring like that. He’d probably end up falling asleep, and then Maka’d get pissed at him, and he’d probably be woken up by a hardcover to the head.

“Take your time!” says Maka. “Dinner’s already ready, we’re in no rush.”

Crona nods but seems content to follow Maka around the store as she drifts from section to section. They gently shake their head at all the titles Maka holds up – mostly cheesy feel-good flicks or (dammit Maka) live-action Disney movies. Soul’s eye is caught by the horror section, and after a quick glance at the other two he drifts towards it. There’s a lot of DVDs on the shelves – they really need to get a DVD player, this is ridiculous – but there’s still plenty of VHS tapes. He hunkers down into a squat, examining some more recent titles, when Crona’s voice comes from above him, startling him in its proximity.

“How about that one?” they ask, and Soul looks up to see them holding a notoriously gory and barf-inducing horror film. Soul hasn’t seen it personally, but he’s heard the stories.

Soul quirks an eyebrow. “You sure about that?” he asks, at the same time that Maka says “Uh, I’m not sure you’d like it very much…”

“I want this one,” Crona says, a note of certainty in their voice. Soul suppresses a grin, seeing Crona in a new light. Maybe tonight won’t be so bad after all.

They pick out two other movies, an action flick and some kind of weird documentary (palate cleansers, Soul thinks), before heading back to the apartment. Ragnarok erupts from Crona’s back at the mention of dinner and is only kept from devouring both his and his meister’s share by Maka angrily wielding her heaviest dictionary. They don’t talk much because everyone’s too busy eating. Soul won’t admit it, but Maka makes a mean mac n’ cheese. Even Crona goes back for seconds. Afterwards Maka grabs the plate of brownies and they all drift into the living room and settle on the couch, Maka in the middle.

“Oh, damn!” Maka exclaims as soon as her butt touches the cushions. “I forgot to get popcorn! I’m going to run down to the convenience store – don’t you dare eat all those brownies, Ragnarok, or I will kill you!”

The door slams shut. “Stupid bitch,” Ragnarok mutters, and starts hassling Crona for a brownie. Crona, surprisingly, holds their ground, and eventually Ragnarok subsides back into Crona, grousing all the while.

The apartment is suddenly too quiet. Blair is out, Soul thinks, glancing around in mild panic. Crona doesn’t say anything.

Put them in their place, the demon growls. Soul clenches his hand into a fist, nails digging into the skin of his palm.

“So, uh,” Soul begins, and then stops, because he has no idea where he’s going with this. He shoots a quick glance at Crona. They’re not looking at him, and instead are pressed against the hard metal arm of the sofa.

Something in Soul softens. “Hey,” he tries again. Crona’s eyes dart to his before flitting back to their lap. Inwardly, Soul grimaces. He’s never been the best at talking to people or making friends, not like Maka. “Uh, did you manage to get all your homework done today?”

Ugh. Lame, stupid, uncool!

“N-no,” says Crona softly.

“Eh, no biggie,” Soul says, trying for jocular and coming out strained. “You’ve still got a whole weekend.”

Silence falls again. The remote is on the coffee table, beside the brownies. Soul wonders if he should grab it and turn on the TV. Something, anything to diffuse this awkwardness. Soul notices out of the corner of his eye that Crona keeps glancing at him now, like they want to say something but can’t quite manage it. Soul sucks on his bottom lip. Maybe he should –

“Do you hate me?” Crona blurts.

Soul flinches, startled and ashamed in equal measure. “No, why would I,” he says, before his brain catches up with his mouth and he looks down at his chest, at the scar covered by the soft cotton of his t-shirt. It’s still a bit pink and raw, and it aches if he stretches his torso too much in any direction. He looks at Crona. “No,” he repeats, quieter this time.

Crona stares at him uncomprehendingly. “B-but I…” They make a slashing motion. Their hand is trembling slightly, Soul notes.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “And I’d do it all over again.” He smiles, and it’s more genuine than any he’s given Crona thus far. “That shit’s in the past. You’re here now, and you’re trying to be better. It’s the soul that counts, y’know?”

“S-so…you don’t hate me?”

“Not at all,” Soul says. “I’m a lot like you, actually. People scare me too.”

Crona blinks. “R-really?”

Soul nods. “Yeah. I used to live in New York. When I first got off the plane I was scared shitless, didn’t know what the fuck I was doing. And now I feel more at home here than I ever did there.”

They’re listening raptly, and when Soul finishes, they swallow. “How…how did you…stop being scared?”

“I never did. But Maka and Black Star and the others are a big help.” He chuckles fondly. He feels lighter. The demon is quiet. “It’s what friends are for.”

When Maka comes back, Soul and Crona are chatting easily and munching on brownies. They greet her and she smiles, evidently happy that they’re getting along. When she returns from the kitchen with an overflowing bowl of popcorn, Crona shifts so that they’re sitting in the middle of Maka and Soul. Ragnarok emerges to gorge himself on popcorn and brownies while Soul pops the horror tape in the VHS.

The movie is so gory that it makes even Soul and Maka’s battle-hardened stomachs turn, but Crona and Ragnarok seem to be enjoying themselves. They make it through the documentary and about one-third of the action flick before Crona falls asleep on Soul’s shoulder.

“They seem like they’ve really warmed up to you,” Maka says quietly over Crona’s head. “What did you guys talk about when I was gone?”

Soul shrugs. “Nothing much, really.”

“That so?”

“Yeah.”

Maka just shakes her head and smiles.

#soulxmakaweek #somaweek2020 #somaweek #soulxmaka #soma #soul eater #soul eater fanfiction #soul/maka #se by z #zxanthe writes sometimes

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tyranttortoise · 5 years

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Dude, what happened to you and your scooter?? Was it a car crash? How are you now? And you said you are not doing well mentally right now, is that a depression? Just.... talk to us. It's not all about UT after all, we're worried about YOU too, you know? If you feel like sharing with us, please do. If you don't feel like opening up - then sure, that's your decision, it's public internet after all. Just know that in whatever case people care for you (even anonymous lurkers like me). XXX

This ask really warmed my heart. (.... And I put a heart here, and it ate everything else I wrote in this paragraph, so lemme try again. ) It really means a lot to me that you’d reach out like this, anon. xx Seriously, thank you for asking about me. I’m happy to share the grisly details of that scooter wreck with you guys!

You guys ready for story time?

This ended up being stupid long, so I’m sticking it all under a cut.

Also, trigger warnings for blood and a picture of a cut at the end.

Okay, so the scooter was one of those Lyft scooters you guys may’ve seen around. It’s basically a taller razor scooter with a motor on it – the kind you stand on, not sit. It’s got a QR code that you scan with the app that activates the scooter, you pay by the minute, and you leave it anywhere on a sidewalk as long as you take a picture to deactivate it.

I’d never seen one before. This was in Atlanta, which is a rather big city, and I saw people riding these scooters everywhere. I even passed a couple that looked almost as old as my parents riding them together with shopping bags on the handles, so I thought, This is perfectly safe.

I was out killing time before a concert (Taking Back Sunday/Red City Radio) by hunting pokemon in pokemon go with Ant, and we saw the parked scooters on the way back to our hotel. We only had a few blocks to go, so we started checking them out, downloaded the app, and gave them a try.

We started off riding them uphill, which is where I went wrong. I didn’t think they had any power; everyone I’d seen had been barely going, after all. So, I turned the accelerator all the way and even had to kick off with my foot like a regular scooter to get it to make it to the top of the hill.

The moment the sidewalk leveled out, however, the scooters shot off. Holy shit, they started to fly! Ant was way ahead of me, and I started calling out about how it was going way too fast, and I squeezed the brake in a panic. The scooter instantly started to wobble, and I put my foot off to catch my balance, but… the scooter was still going, so as soon as my foot touched the sidewalk, I was propelled off my feet and forward toward the sidewalk in prime face-plant position.

I was still holding onto the scooter with both hands, and it happened so quickly that I didn’t have time to let go; I didn’t break my fall, but I did turn my body slightly. (Later, I’d text my boss that I “hit the streets of Atlanta last night… with my face!” He wasn’t amused.) I hit the ground and the scooter kept flying down the sidewalk sideways. Apparently, my side hit first and my ribs took the entire impact from how fast I was going. My knees hit, too, because all of the skin was pretty much gone from them (and I still have huge bruises on both of them right now), my elbow was bloody, and I guess the bottom of my palm got scraped across the sidewalk because it was cut open.

I remember pushing myself up and thinking that my head was throbbing. The first thing I noticed was that my glasses were broken; I could see them lying in front of me, smashed to bits and missing their lenses. “My glasses are broken, damn,” I remember announcing. “And I think I hit my head.”

My forehead was warm, and my vision was clouding in my left eye. “Oh. I’m bleeding. I cut my forehead open,” I narrated while Ant grabbed my shoulders tried to inspect the damage. However, he was too busy panicking to really look, and started crying and apologizing over and over, while I was the calm one.

My glasses had cut my forehead and eyebrow when they broke.

Blood was pouring from my head. I kept having to blink the blood out of my eye and hold my head forward to clear my vision. I put my hands over it, but it kept filling up my palms and spilling down my forearms. “Fuck, this is a lot of blood, but it is a head wound. It’s gonna bleed. Let’s move.”

So, we move toward the buildings, off to the side of the sidewalk, leaving our scooters there. Ant is still freaking out, but he has the peace of mind to deactivate the scooters (though forgets to take a picture of them, so we both end up with $40 bills later that Lyft thankfully refunded really quickly. By the time I realized he didn’t finish deactivating them, I went to the take a picture of the scooter screen and just took a selfie of me all bloody in the ER. We got the money back within half an hour.).

“I need to go to the hospital because this is going to need stitches.” I can’t even see the cut, but if it’s bleeding this much, I know it’s gotta be something I need sewn up. “Do we call an ambulance?”

“Maybe you won’t need stitches. Head wounds bleed, so it might not be that bad. It’s just… too bloody for me to see the cut. Let’s walk back to our hotel, and you can clean up there?”

I snort, gesturing to my arms. At this point, both of my arms are purple with blood. I literally look like I stepped out of a horror movie and got stabbed or something. It looks like I just dipped both arms into a barrel of blood to the elbow and then yanked them out. I’m wearing all black, so you can’t tell that it’s on my clothes as much, but the gray logo on the front of my shirt is dark red. “I’m not walking down the streets like this, much less our hotel. I’d scare people.”

“If we need to go to the hospital, I’ll just drive you there.”

I only said ambulance initially because I wasn’t sure how to walk to a hospital covered in blood, and there’s also no way I’m going to walk through our hotel like this and wait in the underground garage for the valet to get his car.

“No way. We could Uber, but I can’t go in there like this. I need to get cleaned up.”

There’s an Aloft hotel directly across the street, and we both glance over there. “You could use the bathroom in that hotel,” he suggests, and I scoff.

“There’s a lot of people around there… They’d start screaming or call 911 if I walked in. Why don’t you just go grab me some wet and dry paper towels?”

“You’re gonna stay out here by yourself?”

“I’ll hide. Just hurry.”

So, yeah, I’m still actively bleeding all over the place when he runs across the street, but I hide behind a pillar, crouch down so maybe people won’t notice me, and pull out a compact mirror/brush combination (the one that Viv gave me in Alaska, actually!) This is the first time I get a look at myself, and shit, my face is covered in blood, and it’s pretty much turned my blonde hair pink. I decide to try to brush the blood out, which just spreads it around and ends up yanking giant pink tangles out. I try to get a look at the cut, but I can’t see it well past the blood, and every time I let go of it, it just pours out in a rush. So, I start holding my sleeve against it, but that doesn’t help.

Ant comes running back with his pockets stuffed with paper towels just as a random woman peers around my pillar.

“Are you okay?!” she shouts, horrified.

Shit.

I haven’t cleaned myself off, and I let go of my forehead to turn and wave a dismissive hand with the biggest, most manic grin I’ve probably ever had plastered on my face. “I’m fine! I just had a little fall, that’s all!”

She recoils a little, looking even more concerned. “Do you need me to call 911?”

“Oh, no, no, no need for that! I’m going to clean off and then Uber to the hospital, but thank you!”

She looks dubious. “Okay. I just didn’t want to walk away when I saw you.”

“Thank you for your concern, but I’m all right!”

So when she leaves, I proceed to start scrubbing the blood off my arms first, and then the side of my face. There’s no helping my hair; my bangs are sticking straight up, matted into a ball. Ant helps, and then I ball the rest of the dry paper towels up and hold it to my head. I’ve still got some blood here and there on me, but it’s enough that walking down the streets of Atlanta won’t be too bad.

We walk to the end of the block and get an Uber. It shows up fairly quickly, and I slip into the backseat without trying to draw attention to myself. But after about a block, the driver asks if we’re visiting someone at the hospital; obviously, he hasn’t looked at me yet.

“Nah, we had an accident,” Ant nervously answers, and I meet the driver’s gaze through the rear-view mirror.

“Are you… Are you bleeding?!”

“Yeah, but don’t worry. I cleaned up; it won’t be on your backseat.”

At least he has leather seats, but honestly, I don’t think there’s any blood on the back of my pants, and I’m sitting forward so I’m not touching anything else. I’m trying to be considerate but damn, I need this Uber.

The driver is worried about just that, and he keeps glancing back at me. He’s driving faster now, eager to get me out of his car. He runs a red light, and I grip the side handle, muttering curses under my breath.

The hospital wasn’t far, but he still stops a full block from it and tells us to get out, and “Good luck!” before he speeds off. It takes a bit of walking to figure out which part of the massive hospital leads into the ER, and it’s with all of this walking that I realize I’m hurting, and it’s not just my head. My ribs feel like fire. Gingerly I press on them and wince. Shit. They’re either bruised or broken.

I’ll worry about that later; right now, I want my head sewn up so I can leave.

As soon as we entered the ER, there was a security guard sitting by the metal detector. I handed him my purse, but when he noticed there was blood all over it, he just asked me to open it so he can shine his flashlight inside. “What happened, sweetheart? Did you have a fall?” he asked, the picture of concern.

“I fell off one of those scooters,” I replied, and his face automatically changed.

“When will you learn?” he said sternly. “I hope this taught you something.”

… The… fuck?

“I’ve never seen one of those before,” I countered. “I didn’t know.”

He scoffs and waves me through, shaking his head and muttering about the damn scooters. I’m pissed off now, and Ant has to lead me to the counter. Since I don’t have my glasses, everything just looks like blobs until I get close, and the signs might as well not even have writing on them. It’s disorienting, and I hate it.

At the front desk, as soon as I say I fell off a scooter, the women react the same way. “You should’ve known better,” one of them chides, and I keep repeating that I had no idea it went that fast. I feel like a child.

“You could’ve been hurt,” the other one insists, and I dumbly stare. Why do they think I’m here?

Ant fills out the basic patient information sheet for me and hands it back, while I go into the bathroom to clean up. The door doesn’t lock, so I have to get him to stand outside of it. I try to wash the blood out of my hair, but I’m only mildly successful. I do get to wash the rest of the blood from my arms and face, though, so that’s something. I roll my pants up to assess my knees, and they’re skint up and bloody, but I know from the way I can move them that there’s nothing wrong with them. The cut on my palm burns like hell, but it’s okay, and my elbow is just skint up, too.

After half an hour, a nurse comes and wordlessly tapes some gauze to my forehead without really looking at the cut. Then, I’m called back to the triage area where they take my vitals and ask what happened and what’s hurt. I’m sat’ing 100, so I know that my ribs didn’t puncture a lung or anything, so I decide they’re fine.

About an hour after that, I get called back, and it’s then that I realize I haven’t signed a consent for treatment. I ask the nurse about it, he tells me that I don’t need one signed beforehand for where I’m going.

We end up in the trauma section, and I’m surprised. “I’m a trauma?” He nods. “What, a level three?” Another absent nod as he tries to figure out where to put me. A level three means there’s nothing possibly life-threatening about my injuries, but that I’ve sustained an injury that needs to be seen before a standard patient, basically.

It’s then that I realize just how busy this ER is. There were over 60 normal rooms we passed, and this trauma bay alone has 20 rooms, with four rooms for dire cases. To put it in perspective, I work in an enormous hospital, and our trauma bay only has four rooms.

All 20 rooms must be full because there’s a man with an obviously broken leg on a stretcher just out in the hallway. I get lead around the corner, and then the nurse pulls a chair out and has me sit in the hall.

Over the course of the next two hours, several different people come to see me, and I can’t tell which of them is my nurse or doctor. Mostly, they just peel the gauze away from my face to look at the cut, and when I first asked if it was going to need stitches, I just got laughter as a response.

A nurse was making rounds with a student and stopped in front of me at one point. “This one didn’t have the sense to not get on a scooter,” she told the student, and I shouted back that they don’t have them where I’m from.

“You could’ve been hurt,” the student said, and I’m begin to wonder what their definition of hurt is if I’m sitting in a trauma bay.

“Mmhmm. Bet you won’t do that again,�� the nurse chuckles, and then leads her away.

“What the fuck is wrong with this place?” Ant asks, standing beside me; they didn’t offer him a chair, so he’s been awkwardly shifting his weight from foot to foot this entire time.

A doctor comes to examine me in the hall, pressing on my neck and squeezing my arms. I have to roll my skinny jeans up to show him my knees, but he claims if I’ve been walking, they must be fine. He asks if I have any other injuries, and I think about the fact that my ribs hurt whenever I breathe – but I’m tired of this place, pissed off, and I wanna go home. So, I tell him no. Someone comes up and offers me a tetanus shot, but I turn that down, too.

Another hour later, a resident comes to tell me that he’s going to sew up my eyebrow if he can get a room. I don’t need a head CT, but he’s worried I may have ripped the membrane covering my skull, so he said he’s going to feel it before he sews it up, but “Don’t worry, we’ll numb you up so you won’t feel a thing.”

When he finally gets a room, he’s antsy, trying to move quick. We’re in one of the large, critical care bays, one of the rooms where they bring the most serious cases. He’s wearing a walkie-talkie that’s giving trauma reports, which is weird to me because I wear a pager for mine at work.

“I’ve gotta irrigate that wound, but I don’t know how to do it without pouring water all over you.”

“Honestly, if you could get some more of it in my hair, you’d be doing me a favor.”

“I don’t think that’s coming out that easily.”

He put chucks around my neck and has me lean back while he pours sterile water directly into the cut. This was honestly the worst part; I have a pretty solid tolerance for pain, but I found myself squeezing Ant’s arm and trying not to cry.

The resident’s walkie-talkie goes off, reporting a two-car collision, and both of the drivers are coming as level one traumas – which means they’re life-threatening. I’m definitely getting kicked out of this room, and he knows it, too.

“Shit. Okay. Okay, it’s still got a bit before it’ll be here. I can probably still sew you up, so let’s try. But first, we have to check that membrane I mentioned, and ah… I need an attending to double-check me.”

He steps out to grab another doctor, and this one takes one look at me and grins. “You’re going to have one hell of a black eye, girlie.”

“Black eye?” I’m starting to panic. “I can’t have a black eye at work. Are you sure?”

He scoffs. “Absolutely. It’s going to look gnarly. But hey, let’s see if you have a tear.” He holds up the blunt end of a Q-tip, and I recoil a little. I know he’s about to jam that directly into my cut.

“Wasn’t I told I’d be numbed up first?”

“No time with 2 level one’s coming. You knew the risk when you got on the scooter.”

“Why does everyone keep sayin–ahhhh!”

He sticks the blunt end directly into the cut, and then drags it across my freaking skull, up under the skin. It doesn’t hurt as much as the irrigation did, but I still suck in a hiss of air and wince.

“All right, so it didn’t snag, and that means you’re probably good.” He starts explaining it to the resident, while I just mouth fucking hell to Ant.

To make a long story short because this is starting to get out of hand, I get sewn up partway, the trauma comes, so we have to go back into the hall, and the resident breaks sterile procedure without changing gloves, so I ask for that tetanus shot after all. He finishes up my stitches in the hall, although keeps saying that he wants to see the trauma, while I keep insisting he needs to finish what he started. The attending is supposed to review his work, but an hour and a half pass without a sign of the doctor, so the resident comes back to tell me it’s probably fine and slaps some gauze over the stitches. I’m also told it’ll scar, but not to worry because “eyebrow scars are badass.”

“There’s always an eyebrow scar in any character creation mode, so now you can pick that,” Ant helpfully supplies.

Fast forward a bit. I didn’t get any pain killers, but I had some left from where I got a wisdom tooth out the month before. To put it in perspective, when I got that tooth out, I only took a half of one (it wasn’t anything hard because it was one tooth, so don’t worry; it was basically powerful tylenol that makes you drowsy). But the day after the wreck, I took three. My ribs were killing me, breathing hurt, my head was pounding, and bending my legs was agony. Everything hurt, so I called into work for the first time in eight years and just laid on the couch.

I could only get one day off, so I went in after, and desperately tried to cover up my black eye with makeup. I’ll have to post some pictures below or something because I think I actually did a good job. A few days later, I decided to x-ray my ribs because they were getting worse. I thought that at the most, I’d squint at them and wonder if they might be broken, but when the image popped up, my coworkers and I gasped. It was obvious breaks, and both of my floated ribs had the ends broken off completely, just hanging out below them.

You can’t do much for broken ribs. You can get them wrapped if they’re bad enough, and in some extreme cases, some hardware can get put on them, but that’s pretty rare. It’s just something that heals on its own if you take it easy. I knew that, but I still went to my primary doctor a couple of weeks later because they were only getting worse, and I wanted to see if I could get some time approved off work. Plus, I was kinda scared the broken pieces wouldn’t reattach.

Long story short, I got patronized a bit. She repeated the xrays of my ribs after I showed her they were broken, and also ordered an xray of my orbit (which the xray tech didn’t know how to do because that’s not something you typically get at a doctor’s office, so she had me xray myself). When I asked the doctor why she wanted to xray my face – “There’s nothing you can do about a fracture there, right? It just heals on it’s own?” – she replied with, “Yeah, but so do rib fractures, and yet you’re still here, aren’t you?”

Even the xray tech told me, “You know you can’t do anything for broken ribs.” when I was looking over my images. “You just have to take it easy.”

“I can’t,” I blurted, exasperated. My work is mostly physical; I lift patients and push machines around all day, and it hurt like hell.

The doctor asked me if I looked at the xrays, and if I thought I saw a fracture. “You tell me?” I asked, and she shrugged.

“Oh, I can’t read xrays. You see more of them than me, so I figured you’d be able to tell. But I mean, it looks like your sixth rib is really broken bad.”

“Sixth?” The middle one? It’d been hurting like hell, and I had a suspicion that it was broken. “You could see it, too?”

“Oh yeah, that piece was way off.”

“Piece? You mean the very bottom one?” She nods. “The… 12th rib?”

“Yeah, 6th, 12th, however many ribs you got in there.”

She was supposed to get the xrays read by a radiologist, but she never got back to me, so I just got one at work to check it out. Which is probably what I should’ve done in the first place. She couldn’t get me time off work, and she suggested I take ibuprofen for the pain, even though the last time I saw her, she told me not to take that anymore because I have a stomach ulcer. When I reminded her of that, she shrugged and said, “What would you rather have? Nausea or pain?”

…. I don’t think I’ll be seeing her again.

ANYWAY, I ended up tanking all of my vacation days to scrounge almost two weeks off work after a particularly busy day there made it get so bad that I physically couldn’t get out of bed, and that got me healed up for the most part. And by then, some friends flew in to stay with me for a while, so they just let me be lazy and heal, and it really helped. I had a black eye for a month straight, but it finally went away, and now the only lasting damage I have is a scar above my eyebrow, and still a good deal of pain in it. Like just brushing my fingertips over it still hurts, so I think it’s still a bit broken; it’s bigger than my other eyebrow, and it’s kinda got a knot if you feel over it. But all the other bones are healed now, so that’s pretty good.

I guess the people in the ER were right, though. I did learn my lesson, and I’m staying the hell away from scooters now.

For those of you outside of the US wondering about our healthcare system, this entire ordeal cost me about $600.

$200 for the new glasses because insurance wouldn’t cover a new pair until Feb, and I needed them right then.

$300 for the ER visit

& another $100 for the doctors group that saw me in the ER. I have the best insurance I can possibly get in my state, too, so this was just as cheap as it gets. It sucked, but lesson learned!

Here’s some pictures just to add to the story:

This was me right after I got the cut irrigated. You can still see some of the pink in my hair.

Here’s the next day, before the black eye had really set in. The cut’s been sewn up:

Here’s literally the day after that – and pretty much every day for two weeks, before it started to fade.

And here’s how I covered it up with makeup to go to work. I got good at it!

The glasses helped to hide the swelling, really.

Annnnd that’s the scooter tale. 8D

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tisfan · 4 years

Text

(I can) Brew this all Day

Title (I Can) Brew this all Day Link https://archiveofourown.org/works/24408346/chapters/58881478 Square Filled C5: Bucky/Wanda Ship/Main Pairing Bucky/Wanda Rating Teen Major Tags/Triggers/Warnings none Summary Wanda works at a coffee shop. Clint does not understand why she’s crushing on a patron. Word Count 1559

for @buckybarnesbingo and @livewire28

“You’re a fright,” Steve complained as she walked in through the employee entrance at Brew This All Day coffee. “Did someone throw a bucket of water at you?”

“It’s raining,” Wanda said, scowling. She knew her hair looked terrible, practically plastered to her head. She’d had an umbrella when she left for work, but it had gotten snatched up by the wind and by the time she chased it down, it didn’t seem to matter. She was already soaked through.

Usually, she kept a spare dress in her work-locker for just such occasions, but she’d had to wear one last week when a customer did a “prank” and chucked an extra large frozen drink at her (with extra whip) so he could film it for his YouTube channel.

Steve had put him on the not-welcome-back list, but it probably didn’t matter. She was sure that the asshole had gotten fifty million hits or whatever and collected his cash from YouTube and he’d go around the rest of the city doing it to other baristas.

Whatever. She was going to have to work in a cold, wet dress and soaking shoes today and her hair was a mess.

“Your boy’s here,” Clint added. “I mean, I don’t get it. I can’t look at a customer without feeling contempt, so the idea of flirting with them really just-- they’re customers, therefore, idiots.”

“You’re an idiot,” Wanda said, trying suddenly not to throw up with nerves.

Not that it mattered. The cute guy who came to Brew This to study wasn’t going to ask her out any more than the hot guy who came in at odd hours of the night (Brew This All Day was one of the few coffee shops that was decent and open twenty-four hours a day) was going to ask out Steve, no matter how many longing looks Steve directed at that guy’s ass when he left the shop.

Customers might all be idiots, but they often didn’t even see servers unless they made a mistake. And even when that happened, servers weren’t… people. Not really.

Even the guys that flirted with her didn’t see her as a human being; someone to date and enjoy their company. They saw her as a conquest or a cheap, easy lay.

So it didn’t matter that she looked terrible, like a drowned rat, and that her clothes were going to wrinkle and be clammy and nasty all day.

He was just a decoration.

Someone with a perfect face and amazing shoulders and lovely hair.

A work of art.

And as untouchable as the same.

“Oh, my god,” Natasha said, uncoiling herself from behind the desk in the manager’s office. Technically, Nat was the shift lead, but Steve mostly had her doing the books because she was better at it than Steve was. She also set all the schedules, approved vacation time, and worked shifts when other people were sick.

Thus, not someone you wanted to be on the wrong side of.

“You look like you’re gonna puke,” Nat said. “Come here, change shirts with me.” Nat tugged off her scoop-necked black shirt with red accents, completely unphased by the way Clint stared and Steve turned around, the back of his neck going brick red. Nat had no body-shame, along with everything else.

Not that she had any reason to have it. She was quite attractive.

Wanda took the proffered shirt, but went behind the door to change, giving Nat her damp dress in return. So, now she was in Nat’s too tight, too short top. And leggings.

Well, she might not look better, but at least she wasn’t soaked.

Nat rolled her eyes at Wanda’s shirt and grabbed one of the tees with the shop’s logo on it. Technically, employees got a 50% discount off all shop merch, but even at half off, Wanda couldn’t really afford a new shirt right now.

She wondered if Nat could, or if she was just going to count the peep show as part of her compensation.

“Get on the clock, witchy,” Clint said. “I want to get the hell out of here.”

“Remind me why I pay you again?” Steve mused, scratching his chin.

Wanda didn’t stick around to watch the rest of the argument; she’d heard that particular song-and-dance a dozen times before.

Steve was, actually, a good boss. He paid at least fifteen dollars an hour -- as soon as Seattle had instituted that as minimum wage, he was right there behind it. Also, he let them keep all their tips and didn’t cut himself in on it, even if he worked a shift behind the machines.

As advertised, the hot guy was at his usual table; she could see him almost the whole time she was working, except when she was directly pulling a shot. Probably for the best, since she needed to pay attention to the steamer and not to the daytime television god who drank caramel lattes with extra whip while he studied from a pile of books.

Wanda thought he was planning to be a social worker, or something. She had trouble talking to people outside of actual work interactions, even on the best of days, and when dazzled by the man’s eyes, she barely remembered to ask his name to put it on the cup.

Worst, he never said his name. He sometimes used initials (JB) but mostly he used a series of jokes. Manchurian Candidate, Winter Soldier, Special Snowflake. (She particularly liked that last one, which he used when there was an entire cadre of bro-ristas in the shop, the kind of guys who liked to lean on their privilege and tell Wanda that she had no idea how to make coffee. People talked about Karens in their Target, but she thought those friends of hers could use an afternoon with a coffee-house Chad and see which one was worse. Those guys had looked up to mock the person calling themselves Snowflake, taken one look at JB’s body-builder physique and shut the fuck up. It had been great.)

Fortunately, there wasn’t much of a line; just before lunch when her shift started tended to be dead, aside from the occasional harried looking mom, or the perpetual student.

She checked the house pot, found it relatively fresh. The pastry cabinet was well stocked. She counted out her drawer, signed in. Watched JB from the corner of her eye. He looked up as she came into the room, smiled, and then went back to scowling at his papers and books and computer.

She did a round of the floor, picked up a few stray napkins and straw papers, wiped down the tables.

“Get you a refill?” she chirped, just like he was any other customer.

“Oh, would you?” JB asked, sounding like she’d offered a drowning man a lifeline.

“Sure, what are you drinking today?”

“Double-double,” JB said. “I’ve got an exam in--” he checked his watch, “three hours.”

“Sounds fun,” Wanda said. “I have a short shift today, I’m off in six hours.”

JB looked up at her, eyes going wide. “Are--”

“I mean, are-- if you-- just saying--”

“Are you asking me out on a post-exam date?” The only thing good about the entire situation is that he seemed just as flustered and embarrassed as she did. And he hadn’t immediately told her he was in a relationship. Or gay.

“I mean-- if you wanted to, then, you know. Yes?” Wanda waved her hands around, wondering if a convenient hole would ever open up in the ground and swallow her. No such luck.

“Yeah, then, sure,” JB said. “I, yeah. I’ll either want to celebrate. This is my last exam before I get my degree, fingers crossed--” Wanda dutifully crossed her fingers for him “-- or I’ll want to drown myself in beer if it goes badly. In either case, company would be nice.”

“Yeah,” Wanda said. “Okay. We’ll do that, then. You can pick me up here, the red line’s just up the road, go anywhere you want.”

“Sure thing,” JB said. He jotted something down on a paper napkin-- when he handed it to her, it was a phone number. “Text me in a bit, then I’ll have your number and you’ll have mine. Just-- just in case.”

Wanda nodded.

She took the napkin, went back and got his double-double, and then got caught up in an entire busload of tourists from Maryland, none of whom had been in a coffee shop that wasn’t Dunkin’ Donuts or Starbucks in their life, and by the time she texted him, he was already gone to his exam.

Just sitting down. Wish me luck.

Wanda debated her list of emojis for a bit, and then sent him a snowflake, a four leaf clover, thumbs up, and several coffee and tea cups. Waited a few minutes, then sent a wine glass, a plate, and an OK.

OK Wine

“Somebody’s happy,” Steve commented, looking at her beaming at her phone.

“I have a date,” Wanda said.

“With Snowflake?”

“Yeah?”

“Good for you. Guess I owe Nat twenty dollars.”

“Why?”

“I bet that I’d ask Tony out before you’d get up the nerve to ask JB.”

“So, uh. You don’t happen to know his actual name, do you?”

Steve just laughed and walked away.

Awkward.

#buckybarnesbingo2020 #bucky barnes x wanda maximoff #coffee shop AU

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unrestedjade · 5 years

Text

I’ll be adding this to Cigarettes and Cassette Tapes later, but for now I wanna puke this onto Tumblr before I nitpick to absolute death. @chupacawha this was inspired by something you said when we watched the Genkai Tournament arc but I can’t remember what lol.

The walk back to the train station felt about a hundred times as long as the trip out to the temple. And that wasn't even touching climbing down all eighty million steps leading from the temple grounds just to get back to the damn road in the first place. Botan helped as best she could, but most of Kuwabara's weight was on Yusuke. The taller boy leaned heavily on him as they stumbled along, his arm bearing down on Yusuke’s shoulders. Yusuke’s arm around Kuwabara’s waist trembled with effort, hand fisted in tattered fabric to anchor himself. If either of them stumbled, they were both going down.

Yusuke wanted nothing more than to fall face down in the ditch and stay there. Fuck it, let the weeds reclaim him. There wasn't a square inch of his body that didn't hurt, and he was running on less than fumes. The only thing that kept him putting one foot in front of the other was the fact that Kuwabara was having an even harder time staying upright and was somehow doing it anyway. Stubborn bastard. Stubborn, heavy bastard.

The sky was passing from twilight to true night by the time they reached the station. The girl at the ticket counter shot them a look that was equal parts suspicious and alarmed, which Botan smoothed over with some line about a hiking accident. Blah, blah, worse than it looks, blah, blah, bald-faced lie. None of them were dressed to go hiking, and the state of Yusuke and Kuwabara's clothing ruled out any kind of nature-y mishap short of a bear attack. In any case, they must not have looked sketchy enough to call for security, because soon enough they were joining the evening commuter crowd on the platform.

Not many people headed into the city at this time of night, preferring to live out in the smaller towns and suburbs and commute in for work. Botan helped Yusuke maneuver Kuwabara into a window seat. He was pretty out of it after all that walking, eyes glassy and unfocused. Yusuke didn't feel so hot himself, and dropped into the aisle seat next to him-- too much effort to take even one extra step to sit next to Botan in the seats opposite.

"Well," Botan sighed as the train got underway, "that was certainly an eventful day." Her ponytail, normally high and bushy, was wilting down the back of her neck, strands falling loose into her face. Mud smudged the knees of her jeans. On the seat next to her, her bag bulged with the jar holding the shrunken Randou. Yusuke recalled seeing a logo for some brand of pickles stuck to the glass. He hoped it stunk to high heaven in there. And that Botan had forgotten to punch air holes in the lid.

Yusuke slouched in his seat. "That sucked." The train's climate control chilled the sweat soaking his ruined t-shirt, raising goosebumps on his arms. Not that he'd admit he was cold, but he was kinda envious of Kuwabara's jacket-- what was left of it, anyway. "All that shit, and no Tokyo Dome. Don't know what I fuckin' expected."

"Language," Botan chided, more out of reflex than actual offense. "And if it makes you feel any better, I never had a ticket in the first place. I just didn't know how else to get you out here." She had the gall to smile and shrug.

"Y'know," Yusuke sighed, "you're kind of an asshole sometimes." He didn't know why he was surprised. He was starting to get the feeling that getting his life back just meant he was stuck being the spirit world's bitch for the indefinite future. They could at least throw him a bone now and then.

Botan dropped the ditzy sidekick routine, along with her smile. "Don't forget that this is your job, Yusuke. Koenma was generous enough to-"

"Yeah, yeah, enough. I get it." More lectures. Dead or alive, he could never get away from people who wanted to nag at him. Beside him, Kuwabara snored softly, head resting against the window. It didn't look terribly comfortable, but at this point he probably didn't give a shit.

"You did amazing work today," Botan said, relenting. "Really." She reached out to lay a hand on her bag. “Thanks to you, Randou won’t be able to hurt anyone else.”

Yusuke couldn’t help but glance over at Kuwabara’s right arm, the elbow of which had been bending the wrong direction only a couple hours ago. Botan followed his gaze, a frown creasing her brows. “Don’t be too hard on yourself,” she said, softly. “What happened wasn’t your fault, it was Randou’s. And luckily, Genkai is an incredibly gifted healer.” She smiled. “All’s well that ends well, isn’t that right?”

Just because the bones were mended didn’t mean they hadn’t been broken in the first place. But it hadn’t been Botan’s fault, either, so Yusuke kept his mouth shut.

A rough spot of track made the train car shudder. Kuwabara was dislodged from the windowpane and leaned over in the other direction, head thudding onto Yusuke’s shoulder. Apparently, his skull was thick enough that this didn’t wake him up.

“Super.” Like Yusuke really wanted to prop him up for the entire train ride after propping him up for the entire walk from the temple.

The googly eyes Botan was aiming at him just made things worse. “Oh,” she exclaimed, “isn’t that adorable?”

Yusuke glared. “No,” he sneered. “Are you sick in the head, or something?”

“I think the two of you have gotten a lot closer after the day you shared.” Botan rested her chin on her hands, a syrupy grin plastered on her face. “How heartwarming!”

“Revolting.”

Giving Yusuke a conspiratorial wink, Botan stood, hefting her bag over her shoulder. "I have to use the bathroom!" she announced to the train car at large. "I will probably be a while!"

Nearby passengers looked up from their magazines and conversations at her. Yusuke only raised an eyebrow. "What a lady."

"And you're such a gentleman," Botan shot back as she stepped into the aisle, aiming a pointed smirk at Kuwabara's head on his shoulder. She walked away too fast to see the one-finger salute Yusuke gave her, but she could probably guess, anyway.

For the next few minutes, Yusuke pondered whether Botan actually did have to take a shit or something. He’d seen her eat before, but he had no idea how any of that stuff worked for a spirit, and he wasn’t about to ask. He figured she probably just wanted a place to leave her physical body while she checked in with Koenma. That was probably for the best-- she always forgot to close her eyes first when she left it. Looked creepy as hell. Well, if she was gonna be gone for a while, Yusuke could catch a nap. The combination of the cool air and Kuwabara's warmth against his side had him sleepy.

As exhausted as he was, no matter how much he tried to relax, he just couldn't let himself fall asleep. It didn't help that other passengers kept stealing glances at them. Yusuke caught a salaryman three rows down glaring disapprovingly over the top of his newspaper. "The hell are you looking at?" Yusuke snapped. The salaryman hid behind his paper. Good. Uppity guys in suits were especially annoying.

Kuwabara stirred, a confused croak in the back of his throat.

"You're awake," Yusuke said, voice low so the busybodies sharing the car wouldn't overhear. "Sit up and get off me." He didn't even elbow Kuwabara that hard, but Kuwabara hissed, curling an arm over his side. Fuck, that's right. His ribs had been busted up pretty bad— probably still hurt like a bitch. "Shit, sorry. You okay?"

"You're a dick, Urameshi." Kuwabara's speech was slurred, like he was buzzed. Botan had been babbling something about accelerated healing and reiki donation on the walk to the station that Yusuke hadn't listened to at all. Maybe she'd meant that Kuwabara was gonna be a little fucked up for a while from whatever Genkai had done to fix his injuries.

He was also still resting his stupid heavy head on Yusuke's shoulder.

"Seriously, sit up. Do I look like a pillow?" Yusuke gave him a shove, gentle this time, because there was nowhere on him that hadn't been horribly injured. Kuwabara barely moved, mostly because Yusuke was still too worn out to do much more than lift his own arm, much less push the larger boy away.

"...You smell real bad."

Great. This was exactly how Yusuke wanted to spend the two-hour ride back into town. "Lean against the window, then!" It wasn't his fault he'd taken a dip in a damn swamp today.

Kuwabara shook his head, the frizzy remains of his pomp tickling Yusuke's cheek. "Nuh-uh. Too hard. Makes my head hurt."

"What are you, a little kid? Man up."

Ordinarily, Kuwabara would bristle, say something about being ten times manlier than Yusuke, and sit up straight to prove that he was just fine and in no way had gotten seven kinds of shit kicked out of him. He didn't budge. His skull was really starting to dig into Yusuke's shoulder. Fuck it. Yusuke shifted his weight, leaning into Kuwabara so that they were propping each other up and Kuwabara's head was resting on muscle instead of bone. His forehead against Yusuke's neck was warm, feverish even. He had to feel even shittier than Yusuke did, weird psychic healing bullshit or not.

"For the biggest punk in school, you're pretty clingy," Yusuke joked, because nothing about this wasn't awkward as hell. He was going for a mocking tone, but it didn't quite come across. "Were you worried about me?" It was hard to sneer effectively when you had to whisper to avoid the attention of a dozen strangers who'd turn around to see you totally not cuddling with your big ugly classmate.

"Yeah."

Well, shit. Yusuke didn't know what to say to that. He huffed out a sigh. Winding Kuwabara up was the easiest thing in the world any other time. Just one normal thing tonight, that was all he was asking for…

"Thought you were gonna die again," Kuwabara murmured, because of course he couldn't just shut up.

"Don't be stupid," Yusuke snapped. "You're the one that..." A mouthful of bile stopped him from finishing his thought. He swallowed, throat burning. Just the reminder of what that psycho had done to Kuwabara had his guts churning again, enraged. He hadn't been that angry since the shit that had gone down with Keiko at the warehouse, and it caught him off guard even now. If Randou had been a human and not some stupidly strong demon from Hell, Yusuke would have killed the fucker. But Randou would get his in Spirit World. That would have to be good enough. "How are you feeling?"

Kuwabara squirmed a little, trying to find a position that didn't leave the armrest between them pressing against his abused rib-cage. "Like shit," he said. "You?"

"Like shit," Yusuke repeated back. It was true. He'd never felt so used up. Leaning against Kuwabara was at least a little more comfortable than trying to slouch down against the seat back. If you can’t beat ‘em, or whatever.

"If I ask you something weird, will you laugh?"

That was not a question Yusuke was prepared to hear right now. Then again, sitting in silence while they were both awake would be even more awkward. "Probably. What's up?"

"Was I at the bottom of the swamp with you?" Kuwabara twisted to look up at him. Huh. His eyes were gray. Yusuke had never noticed that, but then he wasn't usually this close to Kuwabara's face when he wasn't busy pulverizing it.

More importantly, he hadn't hallucinated Kuwabara showing up underwater like he’d started to convince himself. "Yeah," he said, glaring down at Kuwabara and trying not to accidentally take a bite of his stupid hair. "Real nice, showing up to shit-talk a dying man one last time. How the hell did you do that, anyway?"

Kuwabara shrugged. "I dunno." He looked forward again, his face turning out of view. The hint of redness across his cheekbones Yusuke caught was probably from the fever he was running. "You were drowning, and I really had to get over there, and I couldn't get my stupid body to move. So I guess I kinda just...left it?" He chuckled once, wincing as his ribs protested. "Felt kinda nice to take a break from just lying there feeling like crap. It was getting pretty hard to breathe."

"You had a collapsed lung." Among many, many other things. Yusuke had the feeling the image of Kuwabara so mangled that his body looked vaguely off and uncanny would be featuring in his nightmares for a while.

"I guess that'd do it," Kuwabara said. He didn't seem too alarmed, which could have been down to him being punch-drunk and tired. "Did you get him?" Botan had talked at length about the justice awaiting Randou during their long walk. Add a concussion to the list of things Kuwabara was healing from. "Yeah."

Kuwabara made a pleased sound. "Good."

"Yeah, fuck that guy," Yusuke said, in the understatement of the century.

Kuwabara was quiet for a couple minutes. Just as Yusuke was wondering if he'd fallen asleep again, he said, "What do you think his deal was? I can't figure it out."

Yusuke shrugged. "From what the old bitch said, he might not have a reason other than fighting and throwing his weight around."

"I don't think that's it," Kuwabara said, his speech getting, if anything, even less distinct. He’d probably doze off for real pretty soon. "You like fighting, but you don't keep beating on people after the fight's over.”

“You’d know better than anyone.”

Kuwabara didn’t rise to the bait, too lost in his own train of thought. “Guys like that, I don't think they care about the fight at all. Just wanna hurt someone."

Yusuke frowned. Kuwabara wasn't wrong. And for whatever reason, he seemed to keep running into the kind of guys who were out to spread hurt around for the sake of it. Kuwabara definitely had a talent for sticking his nose into trouble, like he had today.

Another flash of anger. Yusuke had a feeling it would take a while to really calm down, even if the adrenaline rush of the fight was long over. "I shoulda killed that asshole."

Kuwabara shook his head, jostling Yusuke's jaw. "You're not that kinda guy."

Yusuke wasn't so sure about that, at all. He hadn't spared Randou's life, he just hadn't been strong enough to take him out. He'd have to accept that whatever punishment Koenma came up with for the guy would be enough, but he couldn't shake the feeling that the world would be better off without Randou in it. In the moment, with Randou gloating over all those people he'd killed and Kuwabara lying shattered on the ground, he'd wanted nothing more than to break his own fists turning Ranou's face into an unrecognizable lump of meat until long after the demon stopped moving.

He didn't say any of this out loud. Despite being one of Randou's victims, Kuwabara wouldn't agree with him. His honor code didn’t have a lot of flex in it. Yusuke didn't want to think about Kuwabara being disgusted by him, or scared of him.

Or wrong about him.

"Sorry," Kuwabara said. "I wasn't much help, either. Just got in your way."

Okay, now Yusuke knew for sure that Kuwabara was completely out of it. He never talked down about himself. "No, you didn’t." Shaken from his dark thoughts, Yusuke nudged gently against Kuwabara's side. "You were great," he said, the compliment sticking in his craw out of habit. "I'm glad you were here."

Kuwabara caught himself before he laughed and hurt himself again. "Y’know, not counting the whole...monster serial-killer thing, it was kind of fun."

Parts of the day, Yusuke had to admit, had been fun. The ordeal had been a pain in the ass overall, but in bits and pieces, for a few minutes at a time, Yusuke had forgotten he was working a case. "Well, next time you wanna change of pace I can kick your ass at the arcade instead of in the alley."

"Whatever," Kuwabara said. "Don't forget who schooled you back at the temple."

Yusuke scoffed. "You're psychic, so you had an advantage. With normal machines, I'd murder you."

"We’ll...” Kuwabara was cut off by a yawn. “We’ll see about that.”

Minutes passed, and Kuwabara's breathing gentled as he drifted off. Yusuke looked over the top of his head out the window, watching the nighttime scenery whip by outside, fields and little stands of trees partly obscured by his own reflection staring back at him. It would be at least another hour before they got back into the city, and then they still had to walk all the way to Kuwabara's house. And then Yusuke would have to walk all the way back home. And then he'd have to go all the way back to that stupid fucking temple in the middle of nowhere for six whole months.

Sometimes it felt like staying dead would have been easier.

Warm air gusted across his collarbones as Kuwabara sighed, as if he'd heard Yusuke's thought and was irritated by it.

"Take it easy, big guy," Yusuke murmured. "Not going anywhere." At some point he'd leaned his cheek on top of Kuwabara's head, sweat and grass and pomade mingling in his nose. As much as part of him needed to stay alert, keep watch for threats, be ready to defend himself, he was just too tired. He let himself stay where he was, not thinking of much, listening to Kuwabara breathe and the muffled shift and clatter of the train around them.

Quietly, Botan slipped back into her seat across from Yusuke. When she set down her bag, it was clear that the pickle jar was gone. So, Randou had been delivered to the proper authorities, whoever that was. Botan's eyes were glassy, and she was blinking furiously. She'd forgotten to close her eyes before she left her body again. Heh. It would be sort of cute if it weren’t so damn unsettling. She smiled drowsily at Yusuke, taking in the tableau of him and Kuwabara sitting peacefully together.

“Don’t,” Yusuke said, heading off whatever cutesy crap she was about to say. He was too tired and semi-comfortable to move, but she could shut up about it.

Botan’s eyes twinkled. “I didn’t say anything!”

#yu yu hakusho #kuwameshi #this goes nowhere and nothing happens #which is my brand #boring interstitial feelings shit is what i can be counted on to deliver #spoilers for genkai tournament arc #fic

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jeonggukingdom · 6 years

Text

dick on the go (m)

❖ Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

❖ Genre: Smut, Fluff, Crack

❖ Summary: It was all shits and giggles when you and Taehyung were desperate seniors in High School, having no idea what to do with your lives, wondering if you’d ever find a decent job or even graduate in the first place. It is not so funny anymore when you come home from the big city to enjoy your vacation time and you find his sex-shop right in front of the house you grew up in when you were a kid. “If nothing works out I’m just gonna open a sex shop and call it something obnoxious like ‘Dick on the Go’ or something with a stupid zucchini logo flashing on top of the building.” He had said one time. Shit, you had no idea he actually meant it. ❖ Word Count: 20.752 words

❖ WARNINGS: graphic depictions of sexual intercourse, cuss words, masturbation, oral (giving/receiving), rough sex, daddy kink, use of several toys, hair pulling, a drop of orgasm denial, unprotected sex, very subtle degradation.

You take a deep breath, your gaze fixed on the familiar scenery outside the train’s window, and it almost feels like your insides are unclenching and relishing in the feeling of being free after so many months lived squished together.

You have made this journey back and forth hundred times in the past five years or so and you know every inch of the road by memory but it doesn’t hinder its healing effects on both your body and mind.

The ride is a couple of hours long but you do enjoy every last bit of it, at least when it’s bringing you back home.

Your home is more than just a place with four walls and a roof on top, no, home is your roots an, ultimately, that inner part of you, the true self you are forced to hide under fake masks to survive in the city.

Big cities can be beautiful, definitely entertaining and fun to go to because they offer so many possibilities but they also require for you to have a shield around your heart, a persona to protect your inner and most delicate self for there is no space for peculiarity among thousands and thousands of similar-looking people. You are simply a part of the mass that nobody would recognize or even care to.

There was a time when you felt like a big fish in a very small pond but after living in the city for such a long time you came to realize you are nothing but a very tiny drop into the endless sea. Insignificant, quickly replaceable and definitely not that unique.

In your hometown, there are many that envy your work, your reputation and there are many more that strive to arrive where you did, to leave the countryside and become a person of the city.

It’s not that you hate the city per-say, you wouldn’t live there if that were to be the case, but in your far smaller hometown it feels like you can breathe again as if you were holding your breath for a long time without even realizing it.

Every mile the train eats with its speed is one step closer to freedom and Lord knows how much you have missed this feeling.

The day is coming to an end when you finally arrive at the train station, sky tinted in bright hues of orange and pink, and you breathe in loudly, closing your eyes in the process. The countryside’s air beats the city’s one hands down.

You drag your suitcase behind your back, instantly regretting putting so much stuff in there when you’re going to stay for only a week but, in your defense, it is something you have picked up in the big city. Always be prepared for every occasion, they taught you and, some habits, honestly, are hard to vanquish.

A taxi is not something hard to find outside the train station and you feel an exhilarating excitement when you realize you won’t have to launch yourself inside a cab and you also won’t have to argue with somebody else to take their seat or keep yours and, honestly, it’s a mother-fucking-dream.

The little city tour on the cab is a classic when you come back and it’s not like you don’t have people that would come to pick you up if you asked.

But on a cab, you can ask a stranger to take the longer route and they wouldn’t care too much about it, especially when they can get more money out of it. It is stupid, there is no doubt about it, but you miss the neighborhoods you used to walk by every day, you miss your favorite shops and even the outline of your High School in the middle of the city.

The street that leads to your house is quiet and it’s a stark contrast with the crowd and loudness you are used to experiencing in front of your apartment building down to the big city and, even that desolation is something you have utterly missed. Some well deserved peace, at last.

The driver leaves you a few houses down your own, complying with your request, and you stretch your arms widely, a smile plastered on your lips.

Despite the heavy bag behind your back, you walk serenely on the sidewalk, enjoying the warm air that caresses your face and relish in the familiar sight of the houses you have known for all your life.

You have walked these steps thousands of times, hell, you have run on this street hundreds of times to sneak out of your room at night or even to sneak back in before you were caught.

So many good memories. Yes, all of them. You have found out later in life that even those embarrassing moments, even the ones you wanted to forget with all your might when you were younger they have all turned into memories you cherish deeply within your heart because, whether they were bad or really good, they still shaped you in who you are today and they all belong to a time of your life that was far more simple than your adult one.

You are almost out of breath when you reach your front yard, your suitcase lying at your side in all its heaviness and you take a moment to breathe back in and look around and familiarize back with the houses you have frequented a ton of times as a kid.

Your gaze crosses the street and a smile stretches on your lips as it stills on the house of your best friend since middle school.

Oh, what a short-lived smile yours is when you finally register the change at the other side of the road.

Right across from your eyes there is a house but it is not the one you have known your whole life, oh no. This building is new and that would be almost interesting if it weren’t for the neon logo shining above its white walls.

Finals were close, almost too close actually, and you were cramming like crazy, sprawled on the floor of your bedroom with the hope that the discomfort your body was in would keep you awake and focused enough for you to keep on studying.

Your best friend, Taehyung, was lying much more comfortably on your bed, loudly playing video-games on his phone.

“You should study too, you know?” You reprimanded, cringing at the way you sounded just like your mother, and he whined like a little kid would have, slightly pouting in your general direction.

“I don’t wanna.”

“Well, you gotta! What if we fail all of our exams and we don’t get to graduate? And what if we do graduate but not a single University wants us? And what if we can’t get a decent job or even a job to being with?”

You felt your lungs constrict at all the bad scenarios playing in your head like a bad omen.

“God, you’re stressing me out,” he groaned out, not even bothering to look at you, eyes still pretty glued over his phone screen.

“That’s because you should? Like everyone else? How are you so freaking calm?!”

You closed your book a little bit to forcefully and literally flung yourself on your bed, right next to him to take a peek at the game he was playing.

“Well, I have a backup plan, that’s why.”

“What backup plan?”

You could swear to God it was your first time hearing the existence of a backup plan and it almost made you feel stupid for not having one as well.

“If nothing works out I’ll probably just mop floors at Starbucks for a couple of years, just enough for me to have some money and open up my own shop.”

“Your own shop?” Oh, how that stung your heart. Not because it was a dream of yours but because you hadn’t known he wanted one for himself? You genuinely thought you knew everything about Kim Taehyung. Well, maybe because he knew everything about you.

“Yeah, if nothing works out I’m just gonna open a sex shop and call it something obnoxious like ‘Dick on the Go’ or something with a stupid zucchini logo flashing on top of the building.” He put the phone down and raised his eyebrows at you, fighting hard not to laugh in your face.

“Oh my fucking God!” You threw your cushion on his nose, making him yelp in surprise before starting laughing at you and your rage while simultaneously trying to defend himself and pin you down on the mattress.

“Jokes on me for trying to have a serious conversation with bloody Kim Taehyung!”

You hissed, trapped under his far stronger hands but, truthfully, that was just the beginning of an endless afternoon spent doing anything but study.

Fighting with cushions and call each other silly names was the outcome of one of your last days together as seniors in High School and for a very long time, you considered that day to be one of the happiest of your life as a teenager.

Your mouth is agape and you realize how silly you must look standing there, looking like you just saw a ghost or something far more horrifying, but you find yourself incapable of moving a single muscle while still in the process of realizing what you are looking at.

A green zucchini intermittently flashes before you, topped by a blue fixed writing that reads ‘Dick on the Go’ in a fancy calligraphy font.

All the stillness of your body washes out in an instant, subdued by utter rage.

“Fucking Kim Taehyung!” you shriek out loud, stomping your feet on the ground like a goddamn kid, and you find yourself crossing the street in an instant, your luggage is already forgotten. It is a mistake you would never make in the big city where thieves lurk in the dark every second of the day, waiting for a little distraction to steal anything they can from you, even your undergarments if they can reach far enough.

Oh, the beauty of a chill countryside, you’d think when finding your belongings still there later that day but, in the current moment, all thoughts that don’t contemplate murdering your best friend are inconsequential.

You stomp on the concrete floor with the grace of a bull in a china shop and only come to a halt when you are facing the closed door of the shop.

Of course, working hours have come to an end with the end of the day and you are about to give up and move on to plan B — which would include screaming your lungs out to him over the phone while you walk to reach his house and wrap your hands around his neck — when you notice a cardboard sheet hanging from the door.

It looks utterly obnoxious and made by a five-year-old with a passion for pink, purple and Barbies but the little penises designed around it turn it utterly disturbing.

‘Ring to the back entrance’ it reads and oh, you motherfucking will.

You walk around the house, your vision turned red by fury and anyone close enough to see the look on your face would realize you are out for blood.

You stop in front of a small door tinted in a bright fuchsia color and you impatiently ring the bell, feet stomping on the ground as you struggle to keep your rage at bay until the catalyst of it all shows up at the door.

He does, in fact, show up but all words are trapped in your throat the moment you realize he is dressed in nothing but a white bathrobe.

“Oh! ______, I didn’t know you were coming!” He says, smiling one of his dazzling smiles that would usually fool you but that now makes you even more baffled because he doesn’t seem at all fazed by his lack of proper clothing.

“What the hell is going on here? I thought you were still working at Starbucks?” You finally ask, though far more quietly than you first intended it to be.

“Oh, yeah, I didn’t tell you about this,” he gestures to the building with a glint of pride in both his mannerism and his voice, “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Oh, you most definitely succeeded,” you mutter to yourself as he ushers you inside the shop.

You are suddenly made aware of the loud music playing inside of it and as you follow him behind a curtain you realize the shop isn’t just a shop. It’s a bloody nightclub.

The floors are black and the lights are a pretty shade of pink, lighting up a stage where models stand in their flimsy underwear and you feel like gagging on your own breath because you weren’t ready at all for the spectacle before your very eyes.

“I’m very sorry I have to leave you like this but I have a show to host tonight!”

Taehyung half-shouts in your ears and you are about to retort something or, rather, you’re about to ask him a gazillions questions but he disappears before you can even stop him and oh-my-God-what-in-the-world-is-he-doing? Is your next thought as you watch him take off his robe to stand on the stage in nothing but a flimsy thong that conceals pretty much nothing at all and yes, Taehyung is handsome, he has always been, but he’s like a brother to you and now you want to pull your motherfucking eyes out of their sockets and forget you have ever seen any of this.

His voice booms through the small club, amplified by the microphone, and the small crowd cheers loudly for him.

You only then realize that many of these people, both men and women, you actually know and, Lord, why can’t the ground just swallow you whole right now so that you can pretend in the morning that this was all just a really weird dream?

The music gets louder in your ears and you start to fear it may turn you deaf at this rate but you have no time to indulge in the thought before Taehyung starts introducing the ‘items’, as he so lovely introduced them, exhibited on the stage.

What you thought to be a club turns out to be a place where he shows off the most recent acquires of his shop and, despite the line of work, you do have to admit that it is rather genius, especially when the product is hanging nicely on the body of hot models, not even you can resist from goggling at.

A pretty girl with skin white as ivory and hair dark as coal is elegantly walking on the stage in a black laced bust that has everything covered but what it’s supposed to cover. Her breasts look nice, granted, framed in lace and nips covered by two little dots of black but it makes you feel wildly conscious of the way your body would look in that tiny little thing and it’s a thought you’d rather avoid dwelling on to.

The next model is a tall man, all muscles and tan skin, and you try with all your might to look away from him but you find it impossible to do when he’s dressed in nothing but a few strings of leather, shaped to look like a harness, and his member is barely concealed by his own hand. He looks like a Greek statue and you find yourself almost drooling over the nice shape of his ass but that’s before your eyes land on his balls, so out in the open it makes your cheeks feel as warm as a thousand suns.

You watch almost the entirety of the show, unable to look away from any of it but you do draw the line once he presents the newest sex toy of the month: “the magic tongue.”

With dread you watch the spectators come closer to the stage to watch the little item with wild curiosity and a shiver runs down your spine not because sex toys are something you have never seen, or tried, but because you have no idea how you will be able to look any of these people in the eyes after tonight without thinking back to this very moment.

Taehyung’s voice, the booming music and the faint chit-chat of people all mix together in a cacophony of sounds you are more than happy to tune out while focusing your eyes on the walls behind your back, finally noticing how big this place must be to not only be a shop in the front, but also some sort of club in the back.

A hand comes in touch with your shoulder and you jump on the spot, turning around with your fists turned up high because that’s another amazing lesson the city has taught you but, obviously, it is not a threat but just a very confused Taehyung that is facing you.

“Woah, calm down, what is it with the fists?”

“Sorry, it’s a habit,” you reply, blood rushing to your face and turning it feverish to the touch.

He decides not to comment on your words but he can’t hide the flick of concern inside his eyes and your heart warms up for it but, of course, it is not even remotely enough to quench your anger.

“We should probably go somewhere quieter so we can talk,” he says, instead, and you nod your head in agreement while trying to ignore the sounds of excitement coming from what you suppose you could call dance floor.

“Ok, wait for me in front of the shop’s door, I’ll be there in a second.”

“I swear to God Taehyung if you turn right n-” your words get stuck in your throat as he does precisely what you asked him not to do and your eyes inevitably gaze down to the exposed curve of his ass and, awfully, to his sack.

Your hands fly to your face to cover your eyes while you groan out loud, wishing you could pour acid in those eyeballs and remove the memory from your consciousness.

“Ah, so dramatic,” he says, chuckling, “It’s just an ass, plus, you know I have a fine one.”

You peek through your open fingers just in time to watch him loudly smack his own bottom cheeks and you struggle not to gag at the image forever printed inside your brain.

“I hope you realize you just scarred me for life!”

He laughs loudly at your words but does not stop walking down the corridor that has led you to the club but, this time, he’s following the opposite direction and you wonder why he just didn’t let you tag along up to the shop.

Either way, you do not question it too much and when you hear a woman shriek loudly in excitement inside the club you take it as your cue and leave the place with fast steps.

The air feels nice again on your hot skin and you take a few moments to breathe in loudly in the vain attempt to process all that has happened in the span of less than thirty minutes since your return.

Your steps feel heavy as you walk back to the front door, the number of questions swirling in your mind increasing with each passing second.

The door flies open the moment you arrive in front of it and it’s with utter relief that you notice your best friend is now dressed in a simple black tracksuit like any other normal person out there.

He welcomes you with one of his infamous rectangular smiles and you inevitably feel your heart soften for it, your anger dissipating slowly the more you look at it. It’s like looking at the sun after being stuck in the rain for months and you kind of hate him for it. Kim Taehyung is a bloody ray of sunshine and he has always had this power over you and your emotions and, rumors say nobody can really stay mad at him for a very long time. And you most definitely fit in the rumor.

You follow him inside the shop and it takes a lot of self-preservation to not glance around the many items on the shelves, right at the corners of your eyes.

It is not like you have never seen a sex toy, or try to use one for that matter, but there is something about being in a sexy shop with your best friend that unsettles you. You had never thought you’d grow up to be a prude, honestly, but evidently, you had been wrong because everything about this situation makes you uncomfortable to a whole new level.

“No more moping the floors, uh?” You say to break off the silence and he chuckles, gesturing at his shop with so much pride you almost feel compelled to compliment him on it.

“I told you I had a backup plan, didn’t I?” He asks and there is mirth in both his eyes and the curve of his lips and you feel the anger seep back in through your bones.

“Yeah, when we were two stupid kids about to graduate.”

Your voice tone comes out harsher than you intend it to be and it successfully wipes away the smile from Taehyung’s features and you feel a pang of guilt within your heart over it.

Kim Taehyung has always been the type to do whatever he wants despite what people think but he has also always been the type that can be easily hurt but people’s words and their expectations of him. It must be like a knife cutting through his skin for you to turn into just another person that does not understand him nor support him.

“Well, yeah, we were kids and probably very stupid but this idea, this... project is probably one of the best things I ever thought of,” his eyes narrow on you as you shake your head, finally taking a glance over the shop.

It is big and full of all the things you would want from a sexy shop. The floor and walls are painted black but the shelves are a nice neon pink that makes the toys pop out even more and you would never admit it out loud but it does look quite good.

“A sexy shop, Taehyung.” You say, your voice still cutting through his skin and you sadly watch him trouble his bottom lip whilst looking for the right words.

“So what? It’s still a business... a quite good one if I dare say so myself.”

“Oh, you mean with all the horny women in the back drooling over your models or, worse, your naked ass?”

There is something about your words that seems to flare him up, strike a hot spot and start the flames of a raging fire within his heart.

“Seriously, ______, when was the last time you didn’t have a stick up your ass?”

Your mouth opens to retort something witty and intelligent but the words seem to be stuck in your throat for a bit too long and you have to close it again, letting silence fall between you two.

“Why in front of my house, though? Like, it’s not even in the center of the city or around other shops?”

“Ah, I see, that’s what’s bothering you?” He tilts his head to the side and scoffs, incredulity written all over his face.

“Well, I have been moping floors for years now and yes, I did save up a nice amount of money but not enough for me to be picky so I’m sorry if my little shop here offends your...” he fixes his gaze over the tenseness of your body and the way you tap nervously on the floor, looking for the right word to describe you, “Prudery.”

“I’m not a prude Taehyung, it’s just weird to me, ok? I never thought you meant to actually open a sexy shop, especially not with that obnoxious name and you can’t get offended by that because it’s exactly how you defined it yourself back then,” you point a finger up to his chest and a small smile appears back on his features, “And I didn’t expect it to be right in front of the house I grew up in, we grew up in and I most definitely did not expect to see your balls out and about tonight, thank you very much for the horrific memory, by the way.”

By the time you end your speech, he is laughing and you can’t help but laugh with him too because it all still feels so surreal you could wake up any time now and realize it was all just a weird-ass dream.

“Well, when you put it like that,” he concedes but he smirks slightly and it makes you shiver because you know oh-too-well that glint in his eyes and you don’t like it in the least.

“When was the last time you had a good fuck, though?”

“Excuse me?” You try to ignore the way your cheeks seem to catch on fire as blood rushes all to your head because oh, that struck a nerve.

“You look so tense and on edge...” He continues, tilting his head to the side as to study you further, “In my experience, that’s a giving sign of sexual frustration.”

“Oh my fucking God I’m going to murder your sorry ass,” you growl and launch yourself at him just like you used to when you were both kids that relished in pissing off each other.

“Oh come on, ______, I’ve known you since you were like, five, you don’t need to be embarrassed!”

He is laughing as you try to strangle him, very unimpressed by your physical strength.

There had been a time when you had been stronger than him but those days are long over now that he is a grown man that also happened to discover the existence of a gym.

“Seriously, though, you should really loosen up a bit, you’re like in constant rage mode.”

You growl at him, almost wishing your nails were long and pointy like the ones you see every girl in the city sporting and a part of you now understands why. Oh, you’d definitely put them to good use right now.

“Ok, fine, fine! I won’t mention your sexual life or lack thereof anymore, I promise.”

You side-eye him but still let go of his shirt and he exhales loudly, taking a curious look around the room.

“But,” he starts and you scoff at him, ready to assault him anew if he decides to push your boundaries again, “I gifted something to all my friends so I don’t see why you should make an exception.”

There it is again, the little sting. His friends, the ones that knew about this, the ones that probably helped him and cheered him up. The ones that were there when he finally opened the shop and the ones that were there to congratulate him.

It makes you think a lot whether it was really because he wanted to surprise you or because he knew you’d react like this once you found out.

“You can pick anything you want from the shelves, it’s all on me.”

“What? You want me to pick a sex toy?” You ask, bewildered as he motions through the shelves, encouraging you to take a look.

“Well, that’s what I sell so I don’t see why not.”

You scoff and shake your head and this time it is not because of your so-called prudery but because you know for a fact those things have no effect on you.

“What?” He asks and you don’t like the hint of mockery you can hear in his voice, “Don’t tell me... you never used one before?”

“Oh my God, you are impossible!”

He laughs at you, pointing his finger now that he is wrongly and completely sure you have never seen, touched or used any of the things he sells.

“I have tried them if you really must know, but they are not that special.” You regret this confession the moment his features shift, turning from mirth to disbelief as the depth behind them gets clearer in his head.

“Wait, you mean you never... you know?”

His mouth is agape and it makes you want to punch him in the face because one, he looks like a poor meme of a fish and two because you can feel the moment he’ll start to ridicule you coming closer.

“What? I have never what?” You hiss, your face feeling as hot as the bloody sun due to the embarrassment.

“You never had an orgasm with any toy?” He inquires further, looking at you as if you are some rare creature he has never seen before and deeply wants to study now that he has discovered it.

All you want to do is disappear and forget this whole talk that just happened and you sure as hell do not want to answer his question but, somehow, your mouth opens and the words come out in a strangled whisper before you can usher them back in.

“I’m not even sure I ever had an orgasm at all...”

“Wait, are you serious right now or are you just shitting me?” He looks almost comical in his flabbergasted state and, honestly, if it wasn’t your sexual life being judged you would probably laugh at him but mirth is not something you manage to feel when your eyes are watering with frustration and shame.

“Taehyung!” You whine, your eyes fixing on your shoes because you seriously can’t look him in the eyes now, if ever again.

“Oh my God you are serious, wow, that is so sad.” You can feel your heart falling in your chest at his words and you don’t even know why you care about his opinion on this particular matter but the pity in his voice awakens something within you, something you ignored for a very long time.

“What lousy fuckers have you met in the city, seriously.” He presses forward and you can hear a hint of laughter in his voice or maybe it truly is just your imagination but it is enough to drive you away from the scenery and probably never return again.

“Ok, this is where I draw the line, I’m leaving, good-fucking-bye.”

You turn on your heels, aiming for the door but you are kept in place by his firm hand around your wrist.

“Wait, wait, wait,” His voice sounds softer to your ears and you let that timbre fool you enough for you to turn around, ready to listen to his next words.

You turn in time to see him grab a toy from one of the top shelves right next to you and your blood starts to boil in your veins. You are one second away from being outraged and railed up enough to attempt murdering him again.

“Before you go, take this, I swear to God you will thank me in the morning.”

With a devilish smile, he puts a pink vibrator in your hands and you can’t help yourself but look at it and notice the shape of two rabbit ears at the end of the long shaft. It doesn’t look like anything you have ever used and it also looks mildly terrifying because you have no idea how to use the damn thing.

“Taehyung...” You hiss, glaring at him in a way you hope is going to be enough for him to drop the subject but you obtain quite the contrary effect.

He hits his forehead with the palm of his hand and turns around to grab a bottle you are far too familiar with. Lube.

“I almost forgot, you’ll probably need this as well.”

You hate the feigned innocence in his expression and oh, how badly you want to punch it off of him.

“Taehyung, I swear if you don’t cut the shit I’ll make you swallow the damn thing.”

“Hot.” He muses, chuckling.

“Taehyung!”

“Can you please indulge me for just one time?” His eyes turn a bit more serious and you unconsciously start to trouble your bottom lip, hating yourself because you are still considering his offer despite the terrible experiences you have had before.

“If you seriously hate it you can come here tomorrow morning and throw the bloody thing in my face and I won’t stop you. Deal?”

You don’t know if it’s the prospect of hitting him with a vibrator that convinces you or maybe that innate desire of always being on the winning side but before you can realize in what kind of situation you are throwing yourself in, you open your mouth and successfully put a gravestone on your tomb.

“Deal.”

The moon shines brightly in the sky as you leave Taehyung’s shop, walking as fast as your feet allow you to so that nobody will be able to spot the shop’s logo on the plastic bag you’re clutching to your chest like your life depends on it.

It is only when you arrive in front of your yard that you realize your luggage has been abandoned there for quite a long time and it’s with subsequent relief that you notice not a single thing appears to be missing nor out of place.

You sigh heavily and decidedly open up your suitcase to shove inside the vibrator your best friend has just gifted you because yes, you are an adult and your parents are not oblivious to your active sexual life — despite it being very flat and very close to non-existent — but you really do not wish to let them know any details of that portion of your life if you can help it.

You put a smile on your face and gingerly walk to your door, trying to gain back the feeling of easiness and happiness that usually comes with your arrival back home.

The doorbell rings through the house and its sound alone throws you back in time when you were a kid dying to hear that sound because it meant your friends — well, Taehyung, at least — had come to play and you could escape the confinements of your room and boredom to play with them.

Your mother opens the door and a smile stretches immediately on her features, so similar to your own you can’t help but mirror it and then throw your arms against her frame, hugging her close to your chest because you have missed her, her perfume, her meals and everything you wanted to get away from when you were younger and ready to take over the world.

Despite the ups and downs of your arrival, the evening passes quickly in the company of your lovely parents and it feels nice to talk about everyday stuff without filters and it also feels nice to just sit in silence in front of the tv, relishing in each others’ presence and warmth.

Your room looks just like you have left it when you went away for college and even after so many years you can’t find the will to change it yourself. You grew up, of course, many of the clothes in the wardrobe do not even fit you anymore and you certainly have changed your tastes in music over time. Overall, it almost looks like the bedroom of someone foreign but, you like it just the way it is because every detail inside of it is so personal and it was so carefully chosen back then that your heart warms with memories every time your eyes land on something you didn’t remember being there.

Your bedroom in the city looks nice, just like a picture out of a magazine but it doesn’t have personality nor something that screams your name to whoever may walk in it and that’s why you will never change this room right here, even when it clearly belongs to a seventeen-year-old senior girl about to graduate and leave for college.

You close the door behind your back and hop onto the bed, relishing in how soft it feels under your tired body and most importantly how freshly cleaned it smells like. You know your mother still cleans your room as if you live with them and it makes you feel guilty at times, especially when you are away, but when you are back it’s like a bloody dream. Everything is tidy and smells wonderful and even that is something very different from what you are used to in the city.

Your mother would probably scold you to no end if she could see the state you left your apartment in. But sometimes, when the workday gets too long and you are too tired, honestly, being tidy is not your number one priority and it clearly shows when you muster the courage to clean everything and return your place to a decent one.

You huff and sprawl on the bed, legs and arms wide on its surface as you stare at the ceiling, a pout on your mouth.

Ever since you walked through the door of your childhood house all you can think about is the secret held inside your suitcase and what you are going to do with it.

You rest on your side and lock your gaze on your luggage, rummaging through the many things that could go wrong if you happen to decide to try out the so-called gift Taehyung has given you.

You could lie, you think. You could tell him it didn’t work for you in the morning and just leave it at that.

It would be a good solution but there is this part of you that is curious and there’s also this tiny part of you that wants it to work. You have tried stuff, you have been with a decent amount of men and at some point in your life you decided to give it up because clearly, pleasure wasn’t something you could achieve sexually.

But what if it doesn’t have to be like this?

You bite your bottom lip, still unsure on what to do and after long minutes you get off your bed in frustration and almost rip open the luggage to get to the object of your desire.

Your heart is hammering in your chest even though you know your parents are sound asleep but still, the idea of them catching you trying to pleasure yourself in your childhood bedroom scares you to no end. And you would never admit it aloud, but it excites you too in some twisted way.

You dim the lights in your room to create some sort of atmosphere whilst feeling extremely stupid the whole time. You are incredibly awkward and if Taehyung could see you right now he’d probably laugh his ass off.

“This is so stupid,” you mutter to yourself as you get under the covers, trying to relax and stop thinking about what you want or not want to happen.

You wet your lips and take a deep breath and, lord, it almost feels like losing your virginity all over again because the knot inside your stomach is as tight as it was back then.

“It’s just a fucking sex toy, it’s not rocket science.” You hiss to yourself as you uncap the bottle of lube, quickly spreading it on the rabbit-looking toy within your hands.

You gulp down and turn it on, always the control freak that needs to know exactly what is going to happen and how it is going to happen all the bloody time.

You marvel at the little rabbit ears, vibrating alongside with the shaft and you finally realize their purpose and boy, is that excitement that you feel building between your legs?

You have felt desire before, you have felt need but it never culminated into an orgasm or even a hint of pleasure before and you don’t know if it’s because Taehyung was so shocked by your confession or what but, for the first time in a very long time, you want that to change. Tonight.

You quickly get out of your pajama pants and proceed to remove your underwear which, with mild surprise, you notice to be wet with your arousal.

You stroke your sex a few times to make the lube’s job easier and, breathing in, you start working the vibrator in.

The shaft is still as you carefully move it past your folds and you are almost surprised by how your walls stretch around it without much resistance and it makes you wonder: did really the prospect of changing things aroused you this much?

You shake your head, pushing all thoughts out of it to focus only on your pleasure and what feels good at this moment.

The vibrator is well sheathed inside of you when you finally decide to turn it on, the rabbit ears slightly pressed over your mound.

The vibrations take you by surprise because they come in not-synchronized waves so that your presumably pleasure spots are continuously stimulated and you have no time to concentrate too much on either of them.

You rest your body against the mattress and close your eyes, relaxing the muscles of your neck as you give in to the idea of finally unlocking something within you.

Your fingers blindly play with the settings of the toy and you let your body decide what feels best for it, for once letting everything but your mind do the work.

The slight curve of the vibrator hits a particularly sensitive spot within you and you find yourself sighing at the sensation. Your eyes open as you realize the sound that just came out of your mouth and your heart starts hammering in your chest.

You push the vibrator further within you, searching with its head that delightful spot again so you can experience that sensation again and give it a name and oh, when you do, a closed window seems to open within you, finally letting the sun in where once there was only darkness.

The rabbit-like ears vibrate and turn around your mound and even that sensation is suddenly a pleasurable one and not something that leaves you completely indifferent.

Your eyes close as you twist around the settings a little more, making the vibrations stronger and quicker and Lord, how good that feels.

Is this why people are so fixated with sex? Is this what other people had been experiencing all along? Because it is utter bliss and oh, you so do not want it to stop.

You find yourself emitting sounds you had no idea you could produce and you tilt your head to the side to bite down on your cushion and stifle them enough for your parents to remain asleep.

You can feel the pleasure building within you in foreign waves that you have no idea how to control or to handle and, for the first time in your life, you don’t even want to. It feels good to give in, to let something do its work and take control over you and, as you completely give in into this moment, that’s when the orgasm surprisingly arrives, tinting everything white and turning your body into a quivering mess.

You can feel your juices dripping down between your legs but you can’t find in yourself the will to care about it, your mind still hazed by the intense release you have been waiting for years.

You don’t remember after how long you finally get up, clean yourself and hide the toy inside your purse but in the morning, you can clearly recall all the events that led to your very first orgasm and most importantly, how amazing you felt right after.

The sun shines brightly high up in the sky as you briskly cross the street to knock on your best friend’s shop door, his little gift secretly tugged inside your purse, away from prying eyes.

You stop in front of the door, troubling your bottom lip as you take side glances to the street in nervousness. It takes you a few seconds and a lot of controlled breaths for you to push the door open and enter inside the obnoxious shop again.

It is with utter relief that you notice not a single client is there at this early hour and you quickly walk to Taehyung, sitting on the counter with the most heinous smirk you have had the misfortune to witness.

“Oh, look who has returned,” he says, assessing you with his attentive gaze and as his lips curve deeper you know he has already realized he has won the first round in this battle.

“Wipe off that awful smirk off of your face,” you hiss, putting the wrapped up toy on the counter with a little too much enthusiasm.

“I will if you admit I won.”

Oh, if you could erase that smug expression out of his face you would definitely do it. If there is something that everyone around you knows is that you’re a very sour loser and you hate being wrong. Of course, Taehyung knows this very well too and he never drops the chance to rub his win to your face whenever he can.

“It wasn’t a competition.” You hiss, your face feeling feverish hot with the blood that has rushed there from both the rage and the shame.

He cocks his eyebrow at you, tilting his head to the side with a knowing look in his eyes.

“Oh, but it would have been if you had won, or am I mistaken?” He calmly speaks those words but you can sense the mirth laced in them.

“Shut up and tell me how you did it.”

“How I did what?” This time there is no hilarity hidden in his words but true bewilderment.

“You know... made me...?” Your voice is barely above a whisper and the words you speak feel as tight in your throat as rocks would have.

You watch his eyebrows shoot up in realization and his mouth falling agape as he finally picks up all the pieces of the puzzle and puts them together.

“Wait, you really weren’t shitting me last night? You mean... I gave you your first orgasm?!”

You know there isn’t a single living soul inside the shop right about now but you still hiss at him, looking around just to make sure it is a secret known only by him and not the rest of the city.

Your heart hammers in your chest and your head sinks between your shoulders. You have no idea why it feels so shameful to admit that aloud but it does and you find yourself unable to hold his gaze now that the secret is out.

“Oh Lord, poor thing.”

You hate the pity in his voice and the way your body reacts to it: shrinking in itself a little bit more as if it was trying to disappear into itself and never be seen again.

Your eyes shoot up and your knuckles turn white around the counter as you try to gain back that menacing look you had on just yesterday when you first discovered this place.

“Taehyung for the love of God can you stop making fun on my sexual life?”

Your best friend sighs, nodding his head a little as he finally takes into account your feelings, hopefully moving aside the fact that, indeed, it was thanks to him that you finally discovered what pleasure feels like.

“I’m sorry it’s just that... how? I mean, I get lousy sex partners but not even your nice fingers could do the job?”

Oh, you were wrong. You thought he was going to drop the bloody subject and just make you pry to his secrets but no, more awkward questions are leaving his mouth and you honestly have not a single answer to give.

“I don’t know how! If I had known we wouldn’t be having this conversation now, would we?”

“True.”

Silence falls between you two and you start troubling your bottom lip until you can feel the awful taste of copper in your mouth and that seems to be the catalyst to your will to pose the question anew.

“So, how did you do it?”

Taehyung smiles as he unwraps the toy from the pink bag, looking at it as if it were a piece of art and you almost gag on air at the sight of him, so entranced by a bloody vibrator.

“Well, this little toy right here is one of the ladies’ favorite so, there’s that,” He says before putting it back down with a slight pout on his mouth, “But I can’t give you the answers you need, _____.”

Your brows knit and he shakes his head before sighing, finally looking somewhat serious.

“Pleasure comes in different ways for everyone. What feels good to you may feel awful or like nothing to me and vice versa. There is no rule or equation to solve in a matter like this.”

A few seconds pass as you ponder his words and you watch with dread a little smirk forming on his lips.

“But...”

“But?”

“I bet I can make you come again, multiple times.”

Your saliva seems to get stuck in your throat in a vain attempt to suffocate you and honestly, if survival instinct and all that shit didn’t exist, you’d gladly let it because this is not how you wanted this whole conversation to be like.

“Multiple times?” You snicker at him, your eyes glossy with the aftermath of your almost-suffocation.

“Yes.”

“Oh, please, Taehyung, don’t get ahead of yourself,” you promptly reply, trying to hide the way your body has tensed after his words because, lord, what would you do to know how that feels like when a single orgasm has turned your whole world upside down.

“Want to bet?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows at you. The little fucker knows all your weak points and oh, do you love to win bets but, this time there is something stopping you from quickly accepting the challenge.

“No?! What’s in it for me... no wait, what do you want?” Your eyes narrow at him and he chuckles slightly, suddenly assuming his most fake innocent look ever.

“Well, if you win, I will move my shop somewhere far from your childhood home so you don’t have to look at my hideous logo ever again.” A devilish smirk twists his features and a shiver runs down your spine as he opens his mouth again, his voice incredibly low and laced with something you can only address as desire, “But if I win I get to fuck you every night until you leave for the city again.”

“What?!” To say that you are shocked would be an understatement. Of all the things he could have asked for he asks for... sex? With you?

“These are my terms.” He simply states and you hate how calm he looks when your heart is beating like a fucking drum inside your chest.

“Deal.” You hiss because truly, you would do anything now to break his confidence and bend his ego.

“Really?” You relish in the surprised look on his face and you smirk because you may go down but oh, you will go down fighting.

“Yeah, there is no way you’re going to win this and I can’t wait to kick your sorry ass away from my neighbor.”

“OK, then. Meet me here tonight at nine. I’m going to give you the most toe-curling orgasm you will ever experience.”

You leave the shop with rage written all over your face but you can’t hide to yourself the way excitement has coiled in your insides in utter anticipation and you hate him for it because you don’t want to lose the bet but, at the same time, everything makes you wonder if it would really be a loss in the first place.

You stand in front of the mirror feeling like the stupidest human being to ever walk the Earth because one, you have accepted a bet with your best friend that includes sex in it and two, because you are actually dressing up for it.

The black and dangerously slow dress fits your body to perfection: it is tight around your waist and wide on your hips, successfully helping in creating that perfect hourglass figure you always desired to possess; it nicely hugs your breasts, turning them into something inviting even to your own eyes and it leaves your collarbone and neck completely free and naked which is something you have learned boys love to see.

Boys. Not Taehyung. Not your best friend.

You stare at your red lips, matched with the cherries printed on your dress and you move to smear it away from your mouth and forget you ever put it there.

It feels stupid to dress up for him when you had never had any desire to be with him in the first place and it feels even more stupid because this is not a date, this is a silly little game you still have to decide whether you want to win or lose.

“What are you even doing...” You whisper to yourself, shaking your head. It had been a provocative bet for him but, had he stopped to ponder what it was going to imply in the future?

You are going to have sex with your best friend and you already know, acting like it never happened won’t be possible regardless of the final outcome.

If you win the bet it means you spent another night with a man incapable of giving you pleasure and if you lose, you will have to fuck said man for an entire week and then leave for the city as if nothing ever occurred between the two of you.

This is fucked up, you find yourself thinking and yet, you can’t find the will in you to stop it nor to remove the obnoxious red tint from your lips because, after all, if you have to go down you’ll make sure to bring him down with you.

You already know he’s going to tease you, to provoke you until you can’t take any more and making yourself as tempting as possible seems like the only solution to get back to him. Making him want you like a woman and not like some twisted up experiment of some sort.

Fiery determination sets back into your heart, subduing the doubts and fears until you are briskly walking across the street, your eyes set on the turned off lights of the shop and on what awaits you behind that closed door.

You have to take a few small breaths before you can knock on the door and you find yourself jumping in surprise when it immediately opens to reveal Taehyung standing there with a playful smile on his lips.

The moonlight shines on his golden skin and you really don’t know if some kind of magic is at work tonight but, you swear to God he looks so inviting with his tussled ash blonde hair and deep black eyes, standing in front of you with a simple pair of black pants and a white slightly unbuttoned shirt.

“Come in,” he simply says, pushing the door ajar to make space for you and you silently accept his invite, stepping into the shop with a trembling heart.

The lights that you thought to be turned off when looking at the shop from the outside reveal themselves to be pretty dim and a nice shade of pink and you find yourself liking the nice atmosphere they create.

“You look lovely,” he says, one of his hands behind your back to guide you forward and you stumble on your words, unsure whether or not you should accept the compliment or not.

“Wow, you are tense, ok,” he chuckles and you feel your face turning hot to the touch.

“Aren’t you?” You ask in a breath, turning towards him to study his face.

He tilts his head to the side and slightly shakes his head, pouting towards you as he does when he’s deep in thought.

“I mean, maybe I’m a little nervous, yeah, but definitely not as much as you are.” He playfully smiles at you and you roll your eyes to the ceiling, huffing in response.

“What? Afraid you’re going to lose?” He teases you further, winking at you and you feel your blood boil in your veins because you’d like a nice and intelligent retort but you have none to give when you’re not sure what you’re afraid of in the first place.

“Aaand, that’s my cue, good-fucking-bye,” you hiss, turning on your heels because, honestly, running away from this evident mistake seems like the only intelligent decision you’ve made in like the past two days or so.

“Wait, ______,” Taehyung trails behind you, his fingers slightly brushing against your arms to gather your attention, “I’m sorry, I was just trying to make you relax a little bit. I won’t tease you anymore.”

You turn around to closely watch his face and when you fail to pick up any hint of deception on his features you make the decision to stay for reasons you can’t comprehend yourself.

“Can I ask you something, though?” You say, troubling your bottom lip with your teeth, another question pending on your mouth the moment he proposed this bet to you.

“Of course you can.”

“Why do you want...?” Your voice trails off as he takes a step closer to you, surprising you with his sudden proximity. It is not like you have never been close before or even closer, if you have to be completely honest, but tonight everything feels different and out of place.

“What?” He asks, his voice low and deep as he takes another step closer, “Why do I want to fuck you?” He inquires further, taking another step and successfully forcing you to take a few steps back in return until you are squeezed between his body and the counter at your back.

“Y-yeah,” you whisper as his hands come in contact with your hips to lift you up and sit you on the cold table.

“You honestly have no idea why?” He says, his voice husky as he stands between your legs, his lips only a few inches away from your neck.

“N-no?” You reply, your eyebrows furrowing as his hot breath hits your skin, making you shiver at the sensation.

“I had the silliest crush on you when we were teenagers and you were like the prettiest girl in school,” he confesses, chuckling at the memory.

“I wasn’t...” You reply, trying to look into his eyes because honestly, you were never a popular girl or one many boys wanted to date.

“You were to me,” you find a hint of shyness in his voice and it makes you smile tenderly at him because all this time, you had no idea. Taehyung had never been a boy to your eyes, he had always been just Tae, your best and, quite frankly, only friend.

“And I watched you leave and become this beautiful woman and I don’t know, I guess a little part of me still wants to know what it would feel like to be with you.”

“Tae...” you whisper, your hands trailing on his face as he comes closer to your neck and all the nice words you want to say to him, all the other questions, they get all swept away by his mouth, kissing your soft skin until it coaxes a whimper out of your lips.

Your body seems to catch fire as a whole while he kisses you, hugging you closer with his arms firmly around your hips and you find it hard to talk and to think or even breathe for you had no idea your body could react like this to your best friend’s touch.

He kisses your jawline tenderly, moving on its expanse until your mouth is right there, ready to be kissed and oh, does he kiss you. His lips are warm and soft and taste like a summer fling on the beach and it’s so madly intoxicating you find yourself pulling him closer, not willing to let go.

Why is everything about Taehyung suddenly so captivating and sensual and just... beautiful? Why does everything seem so incredibly right for your body and heart but so utterly wrong for your mind?

“Your lips are as nice as I always thought they would feel like,” he confesses, his breath hitting your wet lips and you open your eyes, realizing only then that you had closed them.

Taehyung briefly kisses you again before moving onto your neck anew with newfound fervor and you find yourself tensing at his touch, still unable to decide if you want him to stop or to keep going.

“Shh,” he whispers atop your skin, sensing the way your body has stiffened under his touch, “Just relax, peach. Let me make you feel really good.”

His mouth is like poison on your skin, rendering it feverish to the touch and you find yourself caving in, allowing him to take control and, for once in your life, it is not something panic-inducing but rather liberating.

His hands move flat against your hips and travel upwards on your sides whilst his mouth trails downwards to meet the soft expanse of your breasts.

His hands push your chest forward and your back arches for him as he kisses the supple flesh your dress doesn’t reach to cover, allowing him good access to the prize he seeks to seize.

His mouth kisses your chest like he would kiss your lips and it is passionate and wet and it makes you quiver in both pleasure and anticipation for what is out to come. You feel utterly confused because it is not the first time a man has kissed your body or pulled you closer and yet, it never felt quite like this and the more the minutes tick by, the more you feel attracted to your best friend and, honestly, the more the attraction grows the less you wish to win this bet so that you can experience all of this every day for the next week.

His fingers tug at the hem of your dress, pulling it down to further reveal your chest, enclosed in a nice black bra that is evidently of his taste since he hums in contentment.

Your dress gathers around your hips and you shiver as his fingers start to roam around your naked skin, caressing every inch they can reach while moving blindly since his eyes are closed and his mouth is open to kiss and lick your breasts.

You sigh as he unclasps your bra and his warm hands come to cup your breasts passionately, bringing them together so that he can kiss both of them equally, leaving a trail of saliva on the feverish skin.

You find yourself whimpering for him and he relishes in the sound, encouraged to keep his ministrations going.

The sensation of his warm lips around your nipple is something heavenly and it makes you close your eyes and tilt your head backward. Your back arches for him and he sucks on the hardening nip whilst humming at the way your body reacts to his very touch.

“Every inch of you tastes so sweet,” he whispers hoarsely and you whine in response because nobody has ever made you feel so desired and cherished before and God, do your insides love everything about this.

His hands move around your hips and you lift your ass up, allowing him to finally remove your dress and take a look at what is hidden underneath.

Your underwear is matched to perfection with your bra and you know you’ve made a great choice when he steps back and hisses at the sight of your sex, barely covered by the transparent black piece of clothing.

You watch his lips twist into a smirk and you know it must be because of a wet spot, clearly showing through the fabric and even though you’d gladly remove that teasing smile off of his lips there is no hiding that he has a great effect over you.

You arch your back to push your chest forward and spread your legs wider whilst biting your bottom lip to provoke him and tease him just like he so loves to do with you.

“Fuck,” he hisses, running a hand through his locks while continuously wetting his lips.

“Am I living up to your teenage dreams?” You ask, voice coy despite the way your body sensually moves before him.

“Oh no, you are fucking better,” he growls, unable to shift his gaze from your sex up to your face.

“I am?” You ask, tilting your head to the side with a little smile on your lips, “Then what are you waiting for?”

Your words seem to be exactly the permission he was looking for and you can barely finish your sentence before he is on his knees, his face perfectly aligned with your partially clothed sex.

You lift your ass again as soon as his fingers tug at your underwear and you shiver at the sensation of the cold surface of the table on your now naked cheeks.

He marvels at your sex for a few seconds, just enough to make blood rush to your face in embarrassment, and then, without a single warning, he licks your folds with one big swift movement.

“T-tae,” you whimper at the foreign sensation and he lifts his gaze, eyes glinting with warmth and trepidation.

“Did that feel good?” He asks, caressing your thighs with his hands to help you relax again and give in more to his touch.

“Yes,” you whisper and he starts planting kisses on your inner thigh to build up the excitement coiling in your stomach.

“Am I the first one to do that to you?” He inquires further and you bite down your lip, struggling between the need to lie to make yourself look more experienced in the realm of sex and the one to just be sincere.

In the end, you decide to tell the truth for, after all, your only fault is to suck at picking men willing to give pleasure to their companions instead of only seeking out their own.

“Yes.”

“Good,” he says, smiling at you with mirth in his eyes and you consider the idea of strangling him with your thighs right about now, “I want to be your first in many things,” he adds, licking his lips as he resumes his position between your legs.

“The first one to make you orgasm, the first one to taste your pussy and, maybe, the very first man able to make you come for him multiple times.”

At any other time, you would retort something witty to burst his bubble but his words do not anger you, in fact, they actually excite you further and it is truly a mystery how or why your body likes and reacts to everything he says or does.

Taehyung’s hot tongue is suddenly flat against your mound and all the thoughts in your mind are rendered inconsequential by the simple touch.

You can feel his plump lips encompassing your folds as he takes another tentative lick at your sex and you shiver at the sensation, sighing for him to encourage him in his movements.

His tongue turns suddenly relentless over your sex, bent on gathering all the juices you produce in return for its wild caresses and he hums on your mound every time you let out a sigh or a mewl, the low rumble of his voice sending shivers down your spine.

As his moves increase in boldness and pace you find yourself tugging on his hair, unable to understand whether you wish to push him away or pull him closer.

The minutes stretch as the shop fills with the lewd sounds of his tongue on your wet core and the way he sucks and pulls at the skin every now and then, just to elicit moans out of you.

“Taehyung,” you whimper as his tongue moves past your lips to lap at your inner walls, slightly shaking his head so that his nose can tease your untouched clitoris.

His hands cup your ass and he pushes you forward until you are barely balanced on the counter and completely at his disposal.

His tongue shoots upwards within you, tasting and stretching your inner walls with its ravenous movements and it doesn’t take long for your insides to start twitching, responding to his ministrations with such an ease someone would think you didn’t just experience your first orgasm the night before this very moment.

“Tae,” you whimper again and his gaze lifts up to meet your pleading one. His mouth suddenly detaches from your sex and you pout at the sudden loss of warmth and pleasure.

“Yes, peach?” There it is again, the little nickname he has decided to use on you tonight and even if you were never a fan of those, even when you prohibited every male you’ve been with of ever using one, on Taehyung’s mouth it sounds incredibly endearing.

“Would you like some dick on the go, perhaps?”

The illusion shatters with his next words and your legs close shut as you are suddenly reminded why Taehyung has always been nothing but a friend to you.

“Wow, ok, you ruined it.”

It is almost comical the way his eyes get big as saucers at your words and his mouth hangs open in a perfect impersonation of a fish.

“Come on, don’t tell me it wasn’t funny!” He says, his voice still retaining that rough and sexy tone that had made you cave in the first place.

“Do you honestly think now is the time for humor?!” You squeak, ready to get back on your feet and bloody leave.

“Why not? Sex can be fun!” he retorts, scratching his head with his eyebrows deeply furrowed.

You roll your eyes to the ceiling and click your tongue in your mouth, shaking your head in bewilderment for how can someone be both an ass with the brain of a child and a sensual man with the power of a God to bend you with.

“Ok,” he says, looking at your unimpressed expression, “No jokes, got it.”

His hands rest on your knees to push your legs open and you squeeze them even more shut, picking up the chance to tease him as much as he has been doing ever since you first came into the shop.

“Forget it, I’m not in the mood anymore.”

“Wait, are you for real?”

You watch him scramble back on his feet and you almost laugh in his face as he looks at you, utterly lost.

“What if I am?” You ask, your eyes turning into slits while you force your lips to remain in a tight line, “What would you do to make me change my mind?”

His eyes darken at your words and you think he’ll get back on his knees to resume his previous activities but, instead, he harshly kisses your mouth, his teeth latching at your bottom lip to drag it down until you hiss in both pain and pleasure.

“Open your legs,” he says and all the mirth shown before is gone in both his features and his voice and you think about resisting, about teasing him forward but his fingers wrap around your neck, slightly pressing over your carotid to cut off the oxygen income.

“Do you really want me to stop and go back home?” He asks and you find yourself opening your mouth to whimper out a miserable ‘no’.

“So, will you be a good girl and open up your legs for me now?”

“Y-yes,” you whisper as his gaze shifts from your face down at your closed-off mound.

His eyes are dark with desire and you marvel at the way he looks like a completely different Taehyung and, somehow, this side of him feels incredibly exciting.

“Yes, what?” He asks as you open up your legs for him, his gaze fixing back on your own. For a moment you stay in silence, utterly confused and then your insides twitch at the sudden illumination. It is surprising to know where his desires lay and it is even more baffling to realize they seem to mirror your very own fantasies.

“Yes, daddy.” You choke out, your eyes slightly closing as his grip around your neck fades, allowing the oxygen to kick back in your system.

“Good girl.”

His lips stretch into a smile and in an instant, the dominant look is swept away from his face and you stare at him, unable to comprehend how he manages to shift between both but even with that seraphic smile, he doesn’t allow much room for thoughts to happen for one of his hands immediately flies down between your legs, cupping your sex until you’re sighing for him, pleading for more of his touch.

His mouth is rough against your own, all teeth and tongue and you mewl as one of his fingers moves past your folds, resuming the stretching his tongue had worked on your walls.

This is not a foreign sensation. You’ve had your fingers playing down there countless of times and, sometimes, even your partners attempted it but it has never been particularly pleasurable.

Taehyung is quick to notice that, in fact, even his touch can’t spark up the sensations his tongue lightened up within you and with that knowledge, he lets go of your mouth and falls on his knees anew.

His hot breath hits your slick folds and you shiver, your eyes fixed on the way his eyes glint at the sight of your naked cunt, dripping for him.

With slowed down precision he penetrates you with another one of his fingers, curling them in sync to test the way your body would respond to his touch.

He pushes them in as far as they can reach and the pace within you is slow but pleasant nonetheless. Still, it doesn’t have that butterfly-awakening effect you are both seeking out of you and he hums, deep in thought as if he were studying some rare species of some sort.

His mouth opens and you wait for his voice to break the silence in the room but, instead, his lips press together around your clitoris, allowing him to suck around the sensitive bud.

You hiss at the sensation and fire erupts back within you, making your back arch and your head tilt back.

“Fuck,” you whimper out and you can feel him smile against your swelling flesh.

“That’s it, peach, give in to me.”

His voice is rough and guttural and it sends shivers down your spine, warmness coiling in your stomach as he presses his mouth around your mound again ready to lick, suck and tease.

His fingers pick up the pace within you, scissoring to blissfully stretch you and, united with his relentless mouth, you are quick to unfold before him.

“That-that feels so good,” you mewl, your eyes opening to fix onto his head, nicely enclosed by your thighs. It is a sight you would have never thought possible to be real and, most importantly, you would have never thought to desire keeping him there as much as you do now.

Your words work wonders on his mood and you can sense the shift before it actually happens but oh, when he picks up his pace within you and sucks hard on your clitoris leaving very little room for you to catch your breath, you are fast to crumble and succumb to pleasure.

The orgasm washes over you like an unexpected wave and your voice sounds almost foreign to your own ears as you moan out his name. It is the first time you are truly coming for a man, moving your mouth in the shape of his name.

Taehyung laps all your juices with his untiring tongue and you quiver with the feeling of being overly stimulated all over your swollen mound.

“You are already one step closer to losing our bet,” he says, voice hoarse as he tilts his head towards you and you whine at the sight of him, face flushed and chin dripping with your juices.

By now it is clear to both of you that you won’t actually win the bet and, quite honestly, you don’t even want to when it feels so good to have him working wonders between your legs.

It is, then, with the goal of losing yourself into pleasure that you speak the next words.

“Shut up and fuck me.”

Your words make him chuckle and you yelp in surprise as he slaps your sensitive mound with enough force for it to sting.

“Careful with your words, peach.” He says, getting up on his feet to be at eye level with you again, “Unless you want me to teach you a lesson.”

Your insides twitch at his words and it makes you wonder how have you lived your life all this time without knowing you had that big of a dominance kink. Of course, you have watched porn before and you have preferred certain types of kink but having little to zero experience in what you actually like, everything comes as a surprise tonight. You would never admit it out loud and especially not to him but, Taehyung is the man responsible for your discovery of your utmost inner desires.

His mouth seeks your own and you can taste your own flavor lodged between his lips, hanging from his tongue, and it is utterly inebriating.

His fingers trace your sex with the most delicate touch and he smirks on your mouth, his eyes opening to look into yours.

“Look who is wet for my dick,” he says, his tongue licking your bottom lip to add fuel to the fire already raging between your legs.

“How badly do you want me to fuck you?” He asks, his head tilted to the side so that he can kiss your jawline and further down your neck, your most sensitive spot.

“So much, daddy,” you whimper out, hugging him closer almost as if you are afraid he is going to leave before complying to his promise, “Please.”

“Stay here,” he whispers and you look at him confused, fighting the instinct to pull him back as he untangles from your embrace and takes a few steps back.

You do exactly as he says, though, remaining perfectly still on the counter and you can only imagine how you must look right now: red lipstick smeared on your lips, your body glistening with sweat and your sex slick with both your juices and arousal.

It is an image he seems to enjoy though and the way he looks at you, licking his lips as if anticipating what he’s about to do to you, makes your heart flutter in your chest.

Taehyung takes a few steps back unable to glue his eyes off of you until he absolutely has to and you watch him move past you and disappear behind a door.

The wait makes your heart burst in your chest with expectation and, of course, anxiousness because yes, it is liberating to let someone else take the lead for once but, after all, you were always a control freak and not knowing what is going to happen will always scare the living wits out of you.

Seconds tick by feeling as long as minutes and you are about to combust in flames or leave your position to follow him when he appears again, a little devilish smile on his lips and a white toy in his hands.

You are familiar with what he has brought back from behind that door but you have never used it before, you didn’t think it would work on you, just like everything else.

Taehyung walks slowly between your legs again and he stretches his arm behind your back, seeking for a plug for the magic wand.

The toy comes to life in his hands and you shiver in anticipation as he faces you again, eyes glinting with mischief.

“I’m going to send you to heaven,” he hoarsely declares and you find yourself spreading your legs wider for him, ready to take everything he has to give.

The first touch of the toy on your clitoris sends a jolt to course through your body and your knuckles turn white as you grip hard the counter’s edge, bracing yourself for the ride he has in store for you.

Taehyung is silent as he works the wand’s head on your little mound but the sound of the toy working its magic is enough to fill the room, nicely accompanied by your sighs of ecstasy.

His free hand comes in contact with one of yours and you let go of your tight hold on the counter, following his directions until you are the one balancing the wand on your sex.

“Keep it right there, yes, just like that.”

Your heart leaps in your chest at the praise and with entranced eyes, you watch him get back on his knees.

Your breath itches in your chest as two of his fingers move past your dripping lips, resuming their work as before you came all over them.

Taehyung works slowly and with utter precision and you can feel his digits slightly pressing over your most hidden pleasurable spot and you whimper out for him, letting him know how close he is to his target.

You expect him to rub into you faster, forcing another orgasm out of you but he actually retreats with a little smirk. He is up to tease you, you realize, and you can’t find in yourself the will to protest when it still feels so darn good.

Another one of his fingers moves past your folds and you quiver at the sensation of the deep stretching, relishing in the way they nicely curl within you.

You don’t know if it’s because the magic wand is working wonders on your clitoris but now, even the movements of his fingers feel like heaven and that, is a whole another level of accomplishments Taehyung has achieved in barely two days.

You can hear the squelching sounds of your sex as he fucks into you with his fingers, now relentlessly battering your insides with the evident goal of turning your world upside down again.

His free hand comes in contact with your own atop the sex toy and with utter precision he twists the settings upwards, increasing the speed of its vibrations.

Your eyes roll on the back of your head and your body starts to spasmodically contract. His fingers ravage into you faster, hitting that desired spot he had caressed before and you come, oh Lord you come in a cacophony of sounds and screams.

You almost drop the wand as you madly quiver on the counter and it’s only because his hand is keeping the toy in place that you do not do so.

The orgasm seems endless and it keeps coming and coming until you are breathless and your body feels as heavy as a boulder.

You can barely register the absence of both the toy and his fingers at first, too lost into the haze of pleasure to notice or to care. It is only when his arms are tightly engulfing you that you notice the change and you open your eyes, looking up to his pleased face.

“That was amazing,” you confess and you hate that it will burst his ego to exorbitant levels but lying doesn’t really come simply when you’re still trembling over a nice set of orgasms.

“You realize you just lost our bet, don’t you, peach?”

His breath feels hot and ticklish on your ear and you tilt your head backward away from his face so that you can look into his eyes.

“Do you honestly think I even care now?”

He smiles and places a soft kiss on your lips, hugging you closer in what feels like a very soft aftercare moment.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t. Because you have to stick up to your end of the bargain now.”

“Taehyung,” you softly say, releasing one of your arms from his hold to caress his face, “As long as you can make me feel as good as you did now I will be coming back every day.”

He smiles a pleased smile and you can tell he wants to retort something witty or teasing or quite possibly both but he doesn’t and you are glad for it. You wouldn’t want to ruin the moment, after all.

“We are not done, though,” you say after a while and he quirks his eyebrows upwards.

“Still thirsty, peach?”

Oh, how you love how quickly he switches back to his role and you tilt your head upwards, a soft smile on your lips.

“I didn’t get to feel daddy’s dick yet,” you say as your hand trails down from his cheek to his still clothed sex.

The erection twitches in your palm and the corners of your lips lift up as you notice how hard he feels pressed against your digits.

“Mh,” he hums slowly, closing his eyes as you finally turn your attention to his neglected cock, “Are you sure you’re ready for it?”

“Yes, please.”

Your response comes out in a quick breath and he licks your lips in response, kissing you right after to steal the air out of your lungs.

“I can make you feel real good, daddy,” you say, boldness laced in your words and he chuckles, releasing his hold on you to take a step back.

“Then show me what you got, peach.”

Taehyung doesn’t have to repeat his words twice before you are back on your own two feet — and admittedly you do need a few seconds to get your legs to work again — ready to undress him and make him crumble as hard as he did to you.

Your hands are quick to tug onto his shirt, forcing the button opens with one single swift movement. His mouth opens in protest as the sound of loose buttons falling on the ground reaches his ears but no words come out once it’s your lips that kiss his warm skin.

Your mouth seems to fill with the taste of honey and you can’t decide whether it is the actual taste of his body or, rather, if it is only a fruit of your own mind associating his golden skin to the sweet liquid’s flavour. Nevertheless, he tastes absolutely delicious and you cannot help but suck on the tender flesh, hard enough to bloom flowers atop his chest.

“What a nice mouth you have there, peach,” he murmurs and you smirk on his now covered-in-saliva torso.

“Oh, daddy, I haven’t shown you yet what my pretty mouth can do.”

Taehyung grunts at your evident suggestion and you fall on your knees instantly at the sound, fighting with the button of his pants, eager to finally please him.

You pause for a second recalling how seeing him half naked has almost made you gag yesterday and how now you seem to be unable to wait for him to be bare of any item of clothing. Oh what can change in a span of twenty-four hours, you think to yourself before pushing down his pants.

Taehyung stands in front of you in nothing but his underwear — a simple pair of boxer briefs that have nothing to do with the flimsy thong he flashed you with yesterday — and you open your mouth in awe at the evident bulge hardly concealed under it.

“Like what you see, peach?” He muses and you can hear the smile in his voice but find yourself incapable of looking away from his crotch.

“Very,” you hum in response before your fingers are latching onto the hem of his boxers, ready to reveal what is hidden behind them.

You have never been this eager to see a cock nor to suck it but oh, does Taehyung change everything.

When the fine cloth moves past his hips you inhale deeply, your eyes transfixed on the trail of pubic hair leading to his sex. The boxers fall to his ankles as you let them go, your mouth suddenly dry as you stare at his dick, hard and red and definitely ready to be touched.

You water your mouth a few times before tentatively touching the hot flesh, your fingers encompassing his length with the uncertainty that you feel within your heart.

You have given pleasure to a man before, eager to have some in return if you were good enough but this time, even this feels different for Taehyung has proven to be quite the experienced lover and a big part of you desires to impress him.

His breath hitches in his lungs and you finally lift your gaze to look at his face. His mouth is hanging open, his eyes boring into yours as you finally move your hand alongside his shaft, giving him what he has been desperately craving for all along.

Your mouth twists into a smile at his response and you turn your movements bolder, more confident and, you watch him tilt his head back, his eyes closing at the sensation your fingers provide.

Your thumb rubs against his head to gather his pre-cum and he hisses as you blow hot air onto its tip, teasing him enough to turn him eager.

“Fuck, be a good girl and let me feel your mouth now.”

His voice is rough and deep as he speaks those lewd words and you find yourself immediately obliging to his wishes, throwing your chance of retaliation in the form of teasing out of the window.

Your mouth opens for him and you fix your gaze up to his face again while looking as innocent and coy as you can muster.

You bat your eyelashes at him, your tongue protruding forward ready to welcome the weight of his cock on its rough surface.

Taehyung takes that as a cue to place his hand atop your head, his fingers tugging at your strands of hair to push you forward until you are breathing atop his sex, just an inch away from engulfing him all.

You are the one to take that step forward and as soon as your lips brush his length he releases his breath, his body almost relaxing now that he has been granted his utmost desire.

Your teeth graze his tender skin and you push yourself further, inch after inch until your nose is tickled by his pubic hair and he is panting in approval.

Your lips enclose his member and you inhale deeply, squeezing your cheeks until his fingers start pulling your hair in a vise that makes tears gather in your eyes.

He huffs as his abdomen contracts and you tentatively bob your head whilst releasing your grip around his twitching cock.

The sigh that escapes his mouth sounds like both relief and pleasure and you settle your pace for a pretty gentle one, designed to bring him up to his breaking point as slowly as possible.

“You’re doing so good, peach,” he encourages with voice sounding deep and rough with need and you hum around him to produce goosebumps on his skin.

Your mouth and tongue make lewd sounds as you suck him hard as if his member were an icicle during the very first days of summer and you wish to savor every last drop of the cooling treat.

You have never felt desire blooming between your legs while doing this to other men but tonight, you find yourself rubbing your thighs together every time he hums or sighs or grunts for you.

The need is like a burning fire and it forces you to rest a hand atop your sex to get some of the friction you seem desperate to feel there.

You are able to only press your digits on your clitoris a couple of times before he is made aware of what you are doing.

“Are you touching yourself right now?” He asks and you can’t tell by his tone if he’s more aroused by the act or mad that you did something without asking him first.

Your mouth opens around his cock just enough for you to hum in shame, your eyes fixing on his belly rather than on his eyes.

“What a dirty little girl have you turned into,” he muses and you find the courage to lift up your gaze. The smile that resides on his lips makes your insides twitch and your heart tremble for it promises all the right kinds of wickedness.

“Come here,” he instructs and you leave his member with a lewd pop to get up on your feet and follow him as he drags you further inside the shop.

There appears to be a small niche you hadn’t notice before, right beside the counter and he guides you through it until you are standing face to face with the most bizarre-looking toys you have ever seen.

Taehyung doesn’t address your amazed face in the slightest and silently walks you in front of a mirror, hastily pushing you down to your previous position.

You look up at him with confusion written all over your face and he caresses your left cheek delicately.

“We are going to have so much fun, now,” he says and you nod your head in anticipation, ready to follow his instructions impeccably.

“On your fours,” he says and you follow suit, pressing your hands to the tiled floor and sticking your butt out for good measure.

“Can you look behind your back, peach?” He softly speaks, light glinting in his eyes, and you follow his gaze to be met with a dildo attached to a mirror, perfectly aligned with your ass and, most importantly, your dripping core.

Taehyung moves out of your peripheral vision and you let out a shaky breath as you try to register all his movements with the help of your hearing.

He reappears in your view through the mirror, a pink bottle of lube in his hands you squeeze your legs together in anticipation, already foretasting the pleasure that is about to be sent your way.

Taehyung works as slowly as he possibly can with his fingers, coating the dildo for you at the best of his abilities and you know for a fact that he is doing it on purpose, trying to push you past your tolerance point and Lord, is he getting so damn close.

Just as you are about to snap he gets back on his own two feet, a pleased sound leaving his lips as his gaze focuses back on you.

“Now, be a good girl and fuck yourself with that dildo for daddy.”

His words make all the blood in your body coil down to your stomach, forcing your insides to twitch in excitement and you do not waste even a single second to align yourself to the object responsible for your imminent pleasure.

The dildo feels like any other phallic-looking toy you have used before and you sink onto it with rather ease, helped by the lube and your incredible arousal but the magic seems to happen the second Taehyung’s dick is well encompassed by your mouth again.

You resume your slow bobbing pace around him as if it was never interrupted in the first place but, this time, it is not your head that moves for him, it’s your entire body.

Taehyung stands at a distance that forces you to push your body forward and as you do that, you can feel the toy slipping in and out of you at the same time.

This, is foreign ground again and his little sighs spark you up anew, convincing you to leave behind your initial idea of being gentle and slow and teasing and opt for a rather quicker and rougher pace.

You can feel your own saliva trailing down your chin and pool on the ground but it seems to be only an incentive for you to go harder, relishing in the sounds of approval that leave his swollen mouth.

The faster you move around his shaft the faster the silicone toy batters your sex and you find yourself humming all around him, sending the vibrations up and down his spine, forcing him to moan out your name and tilt his head backward in utter pleasure.

You watch his abdomen contract almost painfully and the vision sparks a question to form in your head and, a few seconds after, on your lips.

Your hips come to a halt, allowing you to let go of his member just enough to voice out your thoughts.

“Would you like to come in my mouth, daddy?” You sugar-coat your words and bat your lashes for good measure and he grunts at the sight of you, so willing to do anything he’d want from you.

“Such a good dirty girl,” he hums, one of his hands releasing its grip from your hair to caress your cheek lovingly and you smile at the fond gesture before quickly engulfing his head into your lips and suck hard on the leaking red tip.

Taehyung groans at the sensation, his body shivering as pleasure spreads through it like a wave you can almost make out the outline of.

You buckle your hips into the toy to quench your own arousal and in a matter of seconds, you have him on the verge of his orgasm, panting and sighing and murmuring encouraging words.

You discard your own purchase on the ground to grasp his ass with your fingers, forcefully pushing his hips to meet your mouth while surely leaving marks on his cheeks that he’d definitely complain about later but, in the heat of the moment, every single one of your actions seems to stir up the fire further.

Your jaw is slack as he starts pounding into you, no more willing to let you decide the pace you are more comfortable in sustaining and it truly takes a lot of work to not gag around him or suffocate on your own spit.

Taehyung comes in hot bursts that take you by surprise but you’re still quick to gulp everything down, ignoring the burning sensation or the tears forming in your eyes because, truly, it is almost a struggle to breathe by now and yet, as he comes moaning out your name you find it impossible for you to care about anything else that isn’t him or his pleasure.

The taste of cum is not pleasant, it never was and it probably will never be but you find it is not quite as disgusting as it tasted before when you were performing your “duty” as a sexual partner. Pleasuring Taehyung is a pleasure in itself and you find yourself licking up your lips as you would do after a satisfying meal.

Taehyung’s hands are warm and turn soft again around your body as he easily lifts you up from the ground to welcome you into his arms.

Your head finds refuge in the crook of his neck and he kisses your temple as your breathing starts slowing down alongside with the hammering within your chest.

One of his hands moves to touch your cheek just like he has done a few moments ago but this time it is to make you look up into his eyes.

His irises as dark as the night sky are fixed upon your face but you can’t pinpoint what the light in his eyes could possibly mean. That is until his lips seek your own and you find yourself leaning into him to kiss him back.

Taehyung kisses you with the despair of a man that knows this is his last chance and with the sweetness of one that has won your heart and, Lord, does it turn your legs into jelly.

He makes you feel like that teenage girl dreaming about boyfriends and first kisses in the safety of her room, he makes you feel like that young girl who used to sneak out of her house in the night to go to a party with her best friend and dance all night until her feet hurt. He makes you feel like the girl you used to be before the city sucked you in and turned you into this sad and stiffer version of yourself. A pale reflection of what you used to be, of the things you used to dream.

When Taehyung leaves your mouth you are panting and you are quite certain your eyes must be glossy with unshed tears.

His thumb strokes your cheek and you tilt your head to the side to look at him better.

“I want you to fuck me,” you whisper as you start mimicking his sweet touches with your own hand.

He chuckles and shakes his head looking rather bewildered. ”Didn’t I do that already, tonight?” He asks and you smile back at him, shaking your head in return.

“I want you to truly fuck me,” you retort, voice barely above a whisper for you never thought you’d ever pronounce those words to him, of all people, “I want to feel you inside of me.”

You try to ignore the way your heart hammers in your chest or the way your insides contract in embarrassment and your ears turn flaming hot under his gaze.

There is a fraction of a second where you wish you could take it back and simply walk out the front door and forget any of this ever happened but then, something shifts inside Taehyung’s eyes and you instantly know, the words you have spoken are the ones he had been waiting for all night.

His hands turn from gentle to rough again against your supple flesh and you yelp in both surprise and pain as he yanks you up on his shoulder, dragging you back where it all started.

Your bottom cheeks hit the cooling surface of the counter again and you can barely utter a single word before Taehyung’s mouth is seeking your own, teeth and tongue working to pry your lips open and claim your taste until it almost seems to become the one he is embodied with.

“Tell me how badly you want my dick,” he whispers, voice hoarse as he instantly attacks the soft skin under your ear, sucking and pinching the flesh in a fine mixture of pleasure and ache — a combo your neck seems to be sharing with your sex.

“So, so bad, daddy, please.”

Taehyung hands force your legs open so that he can stand between them and you let him, arching your back a little to push your hips forward and meet the heat of his semi-hard cock.

His fingers are rough against your skin and they love to torment your thighs and hips and even the little curve of your bottom cheeks that he has access to.

His mouth is generous on your breasts and you mewl for him, pulling him in with your fervent touch and your wanton desire.

Your fingers find purchase on his hair and you tug on them until he growls and bites your skin in retaliation, making you chuckle at his child-like temper.

Your other hand, though, sneaks right past his control and before he can even register the movement, your fingers are laced around his member.

His mouth opens in a silent moan as you trace his length with your warm finger and a wicked smirk twists your lips.

You buckle your hips forward and hook your legs around his own, trapping him right in front of your sex and barely a few inches away from being exactly where you need him to be the most.

“I don’t remember saying you could touch me,” he grunts, trying to regain the control over the situation and assess his dominating role anew.

“Are you complaining?” You ask in a whisper as you guide his cock towards your sex whilst still coaxing it into erection with the slow movements of your fingers.

His sex meets your swollen and dripping lips and they engulf it nicely, coating it with your arousal as you stroke him with both your flushed flesh and your lavish fingers.

One of his hands flies to your face and grasps both of your cheeks, squeezing them until you lift your gaze up to him.

“Don’t forget who is in charge here, peach,” his voice is low and it makes you shiver for all the right reasons and damn, you have never desired to disobey someone’s orders as much as you do now. There is this part of you that relishes in the thought of Taehyung punishing you and it’s that emerging side of you that makes your hand move faster on his sex with a taunting smile on your lips.

“Are you?” You ask, lifting your chin up against his grasp, “Then show me.”

His hand leaves your face to slap away the one around his cock with a sound smack that stings your skin and makes your insides twitch.

“After I’m done with you, you will think again before defying me,” he promises with a growl before slapping your sex, rough and strong.

You yelp in surprise, pain and excitement all mixing into one and you can do nothing to hide the way your body quivers at his touch nor the way your breath has turned quick and shallow in anticipation for what is out to come.

His hand slaps your sex again and you moan loud for him, tilting your head backward as your eyes close, your mind unable to focus on neither the pain nor the pleasure.

When your eyelids flutter open again you are quick to notice the way his cock is fully erected now, finally awoken by the sounds of your mouth and the ones of your battered sex, aching for his touch.

“Lie on your back,” he instructs and this time you follow suit, shivering as the cooling surface of the counter is flushed against your feverish skin.

“You are not allowed to come until I tell you so, do you understand?”

A sound of frustration leaves your lips at the thought of having to hold back and, a part of you wonders if you are even capable of doing so.

“Do you understand?” He repeats, his voice sounding strict and rough, almost mad, and you wet your lips before nodding your head eyes. This time, you do not want to think about what his punishment would be like for, a part of you already knows you wouldn’t be able to endure it. Especially not now that you are already so desperate for release.

Taehyung’s cock intrudes your sex without any warning and your eyes close at the sensation whilst a grunt escapes your lips. You cannot conceal the way his girth stings inside of you when it happens so quickly and all at once, allowing you very little room to adjust.

Taehyung stays still inside of you, coaxing your sex with the movement of his fingers on your clit, urging your walls to relax around him.

A sigh erupts from your parted lips and you close your eyes, willing your body to relax and let his fingers do their work on you.

“Just like that, peach, take a big deep breath for daddy,” his face conceals perfectly well how hard he is struggling to keep himself still but his voice fails to do so, reaching your ears in a gruff and strained tone.

You want to see that wall he has put on crumble and show what’s really hiding behind it, you want to see his face morph into one of pleasure and you want to be the one responsible for it.

You move your hips upwards, ignoring the sting that comes with it just to make him flinch, lose his composure and simply fuck you like he so evidently desires to.

“Careful, peach, or you won’t be able to walk once I’m done with you,” he grunts, stilling the movements of your hips with his strong hands, his eyes burning with both desire and displeasure.

“Who said I want to?” You ask in a whisper and oh, do your words shoot right through his barrier, making it crumble like a castle’s tower under the force of a cannonball.

Taehyung rolls his hips into you and you whimper for him, a fine mixture of both pain and pleasure. Up until this moment, you had no idea you had a thing for pain and being used by someone but Taehyung sparks all of this within you and, soon enough, that subtle pain is subdued by arousal, need and, furthermore, pleasure at its finest.

His pace is slow, calculated, but the way his hips push into yours is not delicate nor sweet at all. It’s raw passion and it makes you sigh and whimper for him, it makes your body quiver and contract and it’s marvelous to discover what sex can feel like, what it should feel like and, for a brief moment, you find yourself hanging on the verge of tears.

Taehyung’s charcoal eyes stare into your own and a playful smirk tugs on his lips as he notices the way your eyes shine with unshed tears and the way you can’t help but voice out your pleasure for anyone nearby to hear.

“Does it feel good, peach?” He asks, voice slightly taunting but you can’t find it in yourself to think of a witty rebuttal, not when your thoughts are all hazy and rendered inconclusive by the pressure between your legs.

“Y-yes,” you whimper out and he attaches his swollen lips to the feverish skin of your neck, sucking on the supple flesh with such force you know you are going to bare the signs of this encounter in the morning.

Taehyung seems to be able to read your body to perfection: he grants you what you need before you can even ask for it, he kisses and touches every inch of skin that could add fuel to the burning fire building within you, he says lewd words that he knows are going to arouse you even more. So, it does not come as a surprise that he can tell when you are going to come as well.

“You’re not allowed to come just yet,” he says and you whimper in frustration, your voice pleading because after craving an orgasm for so long in your life, you simply do not want to postpone that heaven-like feeling any longer.

“Please,” you plea, your eyes searching for his and he halts his movements in response, drawing a strangled grunt out of you.

“Now, now, you spent all your life waiting for this, what’s a minute longer?” He teases, his index finger tracing the expanse of your chest and you swear to God, if your pending orgasm wasn’t on the line, you’d be biting that finger off of his hand right about now.

“Taehyung,” you whimper miserably and he seeks your eyes, tilting his head to the side as he notices a tear running down your left cheek, the orgasm denial hitting you far more than he must have anticipated for he frowns and then pouts, deep in thought.

His mouth opens, his lips shaping into the words he wants to say but something in your eyes seems to suggest him otherwise and, before you know it, his dick is firmly stroking your walls anew, the pace relentless as he seeks out the pleasure you begged him for.

Your breath hitches, your back arches for him and your eyes close as you lose yourself into the feeling of being owned anew. Tonight you discover it’s a feeling quite intoxicating and one you desire with all your being to experience more and more.

“Is it coming, peach?” He asks in a grunt, your walls contracting around him affecting him more than he would ever care to admit and you sigh out a ‘yes’ before your whole body starts to quiver, the orgasm almost taking you by surprise, washing over your entire body like an electric shock.

You do not realize the moans and whimpers that fill the silence of the room are your very own until your eyes are opening again, the over-stimulation between your legs drowning out the last remains of your climax.

“Fuck, that was hot,” Taehyung whispers mostly to himself, his pupils extremely dilated with excitement and all of it makes you feel greatly empowered because he is not immune to you at all, just as much as you are evidently not immune to him.

Your thoughts are scattered by his hands, suddenly grabbing your hips, and the instant loss of his dick within your sex. Your mouth opens to voice out a question but the words die in your mouth as soon as you understand where his intentions lay.

You follow the quick and rough guide of his hands and turn around for him, pushing your chest down to meet the cold surface of the counter, partly sleek with the results of your arousal.

You arch your back a little, pushing your butt out for him to have better access to your sex and that is all it takes from your part for him to intrude your core anew, battering your sensitive spot with grand precision whilst chasing his own release.

One of his hands grabs your hair roughly, pulling upwards until your neck is tilted backward and you can almost see his face and the way it morphs with pleasure.

You bite down your lip as you drink up all the sounds he makes and the ones that come from your squelching sex, fully welcoming him with a new coat of arousal. You had no idea people could come so many times in a single night but as he pounds in and out of you, you feel the golden sensation spreading through your limbs anew, making you whimper and contract for him.

“Listen to yourself,” he huffs, his voice almost trembling with the effort to keep his pace steady, “Mewling for my cock like a slut.”

You groan in response, closing your eyes as you push your hips back to meet his own, eager to make him come as vigorously as you did.

“Yes, like that peach, fuck my cock until I fill you whole... would you like that, uh? To feel my hot cum inside of you.”

“Y-yes,” you whimper out, forcing your hips to meet his relentless pace, smacking your butt onto his firm stomach.

“Look at you,” he presses forward, “Already turned into a cock-slut.”

The orgasm arrives with enough force to knock the air out of your lungs, his words ringing in your ears as you tremble under his body.

Even with your mind adrift in heaven, you can sense the way his hips start to stagger, losing their tempo as he meets his own release.

Taehyung’s moans are rough and deep and they quickly morph into the sound of your name. The warm feeling that spreads within your chest at the sound has nothing to do with pleasure and everything to do with fondness. It is a dangerous feeling, you realize it immediately but, as soon as he’s hugging you close to his chest, struggling to balance his breathing and calm the quick pace of his heart, you let every rational thought hide back in the recess of your mind.

The minutes tick by in silence, only your mingling breaths filling up the room as you both gain back the control over your own limbs and it’s with the definite end of the blissful feelings that what happened tonight dawns to you. You had sex with your best friend over a bet. Hell, you lost the bet and this means this, right here, is only the beginning.

Panic surges quickly through your body and in the span of a few seconds you untangle yourself from him and dress back up at the best of your abilities.

“Why are you running away, ___?”

The sound of your name almost sounds foreign on his mouth when he has spent the entire night calling you everything but.

“I can’t exactly spend the night here, can I?” You ask, opening your arms to make him aware of the fact that this, despite your recent activities, is still a shop and very far from being a bedroom.

“Fair.” He says, leaning to the counter with one of his shoulders, smirking as he watches you get back into your shoes, ready to leave.

“You do realize you lost our bet, right?” He asks, a smirk firmly drawn on his lips, “You’ll have to keep your promise.”

“You motherfucking pig,” you hiss, picking up your purse ready to throw it at him, “I fucking hate you.”

He gingerly laughs, shaking his head with that annoying smirk still plastered all over his features, “You don’t hate all of me, though.”

His eyes take a quick lock to his cock and you roll your eyes, feigning to be gagging on thin air but you both know, you don’t even mean half of the resentment you are displaying to him.

As you turn on your heels and basically run to the door the only sound that accompanies you is his laugh and the embarrassment that it induces within you.

The sound of the door closing roughly behind your back is what ultimately cuts down that laugh and you sigh with relief, briskly walking away from Taehyung’s shop with your heart hammering in your chest for all the wrong reasons — will twenty hours be really this excruciatingly slow to pass?

#btssmutclub #bangtanbookclub #taehyung smut #taehyung crack #taehyung x reader #bts smut #bts crack #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts scenario #taehyung imagine #taehyung scenario

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miss-noo-na · 5 years

Text

Adventures in Babysitting a K-pop Star (Jaehyun Fluff)

Title: Adventures in Babysitting a K-pop Star

Featuring: Jaehyun (NCT) x Reader

POV: Third

Rating: PG-13

Summary: A crazy famous popstar you’ve never heard of wanders into your job, and through a series of unfortunate events he is now your responsibility for the rest of the day.

Note: This piece was commissioned! If you’d like a commission of your own, check out my sidebar under “request” for information.

She carried a stack of books out to the table in front of the shop window, plopping them down with a thud and swiping her hand over the top to clear any dust. She took a moment to peer out the big bay window and sigh, it was gorgeous today and she was stuck at work.

Things could be worse, she thought to herself. Her job was quiet for the most part, a used bookstore owned by an old man who hardly ever came in. Most days it was just her, sometimes another coworker. Today she was alone and since it was slow, she’d taken it upon herself to start up on the new summer reading display geared toward teens. She had scoured the backroom of donations for anything that might entice a young mind, and went about her set-up.

Some music played faintly over the PA system, and she hummed as she meticulously chose where each one would go, making sure it could be seen around the handmade sign. A sound caught her attention then, and she looked over her shoulder toward the window as a gaggle of teenage girls congregated in front of the store. Their voices were loud and excited and she wondered what all the fuss was about, glancing at them periodically as she continued her display work. They started to move down the sidewalk again and she shrugged to herself, going about her business.

A few minutes later there were high-pitched screams that made her nearly jump out of her skin, and she moved quickly to the window to see what was going on. The girls ran past the window, obviously after something, but they appeared to be screaming in joy, which only made her more confused. Suddenly, the bell above the entrance clanged noisily overhead before it slammed shut again.

She peered around the corner of the window and saw a man there, panting heavily with his back pressed against the door, eyes closed.

“Uh, can I help you?” She asked, and the man’s eyes shot open as he stood up straight.

“Oh, sorry, no. I mean, maybe?” He said peering around the bookstore and seeing it was empty. He was young, and handsome, almost too handsome.

“Were you looking for a book?” She asked, feeling increasingly uneasy with his strange presence.

“Not quite, I was just trying to hide.”

Her eyes went a little wide as she took a step back.

“Those girls out there were looking for me,”

She looked at the window, recalling the ecstatic teenagers, then back at him.

“Why?”

He rubbed the back of his neck and laughed nervously. “Um, they are kind of my fans.”

She crossed her arms and gave him an incredulous look. “Fans?”

“Yeah, I’m a singer and-” He stopped himself, “Sorry, you don’t care about this, let me just call someone to-” He started to feel his jean pockets and his face dropped, “Shit.”

“Are you o-” She went to ask, but he started to curse under his breath and push his hand through his hair, pacing around in place as he felt through his pockets again, as if what he was looking for might magically appear. “Mark must have my phone,” He said more so to himself.

She was starting to get a little annoyed by this situation, as she just wanted to put up her display in peace and not deal with someone else’s issues. “Look, can I help you with something or are you just-”

She was interrupted again when they could both hear the escalated voices of girls coming back down the street, and the man’s face went tight with panic. “I have to hide somewhere,”

“That’s a little ridiculous” She sighed, but he was already looking for somewhere to go.

“Please? You’d be doing me a huge favor,” He begged, glancing at the door that read “Staff Only”

She looked to consider it for a moment, as the girl’s voices got louder toward the entrance of the shop. She relented with a heavy sigh.

“Fine,” She said, crossing over to the door to unlock it and let him in.

“Thank you so much” He said, and she mumbled something back and shut it behind him, just as the bell rang and a large group came in.

“Hello ladies,” She turned and plastered on her customer service smile. “Looking for anything in particular today?”

“Oh, we’re fine.” One small girl piped up, “Just looking.”

She nodded and gave the group a once over, a diverse looking bunch roughly 15-18 years old, all wearing similar shirts in a red and white logo she didn’t recognize. She remembered the man saying something about being a singer, and she wondered if he was telling the truth. If he was, he seemed awfully popular for someone she didn’t recognize. She’d like to think she had at least a basic knowledge of current music.

The group moved through the stacks, chatting in their noisy, excited way. She went to sit behind the register, glancing at the staff door every now and then, but also trying to eavesdrop on the girls.

“I can’t believe I touched his arm.”

“Oh my god, his is so soft.”

“I feel kind of bad that he ran away, though.”

She tapped a pen on her chin, thinking maybe he had been truthful all along.

The girls didn’t stay long, they shuffled out and she called out for them to have a nice day. When their voice were no longer audible, she went and opened the staff door.

“Hey, thanks a lot.”

“So a singer, huh?”

He laughed and his smile lit up his face, making his eyes crease and dimples show on his cheeks, which hit her funny.

”Uh, yeah. I’m in a group. I was actually doing some sightseeing with a few of the guys when we got separated. Usually the fans are nice, but sometimes they’re a bit…” He searched for the words.

“Overzealous?” She helped, remembering what it was like to be young and hormonal.

“Right, exactly.”

There was an awkward pause before he stuck out his hand. “I’m Jaehyun, by the way.”

She nodded and offered her name back. “So how come I’ve never heard of you?” She asked, somewhat teasing.

“Oh, we’re not from here.”

“What, this city?”

“No, this country.”

“Oh.” She blinked, as that would explain everything.

“We’re from South Korea, but we’re on a US tour.” He explained, although he almost seemed embarrassed about it.

“Speaking of which, I kind of have a huge favor to ask you.” He said, fidgeting with his hands. She waited with a curious expression.

“I don’t have any money on me and my phone is gone, I can’t remember anyone’s number without it, do you think you could drive me to the venue?”

She was taken aback by the request, glancing around the bookstore that only she was manning. Plus, she didn’t know this guy.

“I’m kind of working,” She said, shrugging sympathetically.

“Ah, it’s okay, I’ll figure something out.” He said as he started for the door. “Thanks for letting me hide, have a nice day.” He gave a friendly smile and a wave as he walked out.

She walked back over to her display, trying to distract herself with her task again, but as she peered out the window she saw Jaehyun idling on the sidewalk, looking up at a street sign and rubbing his head, clearly lost. She huffed, walking hastily into the employees office, grabbing her things, and shutting off the lights.

She exited the book store and locked it up, Jaehyun turning toward her as she did so.

“Where’s the venue?” She asked and Jaehyun blinked.

“Oh, you don’t have to close the store, I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

She waved a dismissive hand. “We’re dead today anyway, I doubt my boss will notice. Plus, I can’t have you stranded out here like a lost puppy.” She explained, wondering if she should have’ kept that part to herself. He did look like a cute little retriever out there on the sidewalk with his soft face and fair hair.

“That’s really kind of you, the venue is on Main street...I think?”

She paused a moment. “That’s clear across town.”

Jaehyun laughed nervously. “Yeeeah, look its fine I can just-”

“The shop’s already closed, come on.” She gestured for him to follow, not even believing she was doing this.

They walked through an alley to the parking lot for employees only. Her car wasn’t what you would call….new. It was a beater of a silver Sedan from the 80′s, but it ran and it had air conditioning and that was all that mattered on a book sellers budget.

She got in and cleared a jacket and some stray receipts from the passenger seat, feeling a little self-conscious about the state of her vehicle, thinking this guy must be used to being chauffeured around in limos or something, if he was really famous.

“I don’t usually have guests.” She said, and Jaehyun laughed it off, telling her not to worry about it.

She propped her phone up on its holder and put the coordinates into the GPS, realizing the mid-day traffic on a weekend was going to be a bitch. Jaehyun made a pained face at the phone when the drive time came up.

“Sorry.” He said, looking down.

“Hey, it’s my fault for agreeing to it.” She replied with good humor, and that seemed to ease some of the tension.

They didn’t say much at first, Jaehyun staring out the window as they traversed the city, but once they were on the freeway and things were at a not-quite-crawling but not too fast pace, she spoke up.

“Did you at least get to see enough of the city?” She asked, glancing at him.

“A little.” He shrugged, “I mean, of course I’d like to see more, but we only get a day or two, if that.”

“Sounds exhausting” She said, not even able to imagine going from city to city like that. The traveling alone would tire her out, not even including some kind of performing.

“It can be,” He said honestly, but then smiled. “But it’s worth it.”

“This group, how many of you are there?”

“Eight, right now.”

“Right now?” She raised an eyebrow, and he laughed.

“We kind of change around. There’s more than one group, members come and go.”

“Like Menudo?” She blurted out in an almost excited fit of amusement, then felt bad about it and bit her tongue. She was glad that Jaehyun seemed as lighthearted as she did.

“Sure, like Menudo, but better.”

“I don’t know about that. Menudo had Ricky Martin.”

There was quiet and she glanced over at Jaehyun to make sure he knew she was joking, and he was just staring at her with this bemused yet happy look on his face that made her turn quickly back to the road and get a little nervous.

“You’re right, I could never beat Ricky Martin.” He finally said with a fake sigh.

“Maybe one day, if you’re lucky, you too will be Livin’ La Vida Loca.” She said, and liked the way he laughed so openly at her stupid comments.

“I think I already am.” He said faintly, peering out the window.

Their brief silence was interrupted by a sputtering noise from the front of the car. It did it once, then again...then finally again much louder as the car jolted. Her eyes went wide.

“No, no, no. Please no, not today.” She chanted as she giggled the gear-shift, like it would help.

It was no use, the hunk of metal sputtered out its last breaths and luckily she was so used to this that she had already begun maneuvering the vehicle to the shoulder, just in time for it to roll to a stop and die.

“God dammit!’ She yelled, slamming her hand on the steering wheel.

“Uh, I’m guessing this isn’t good?”Jaehyun commented uneasily.

“No, not at all.” She said, taking out her phone. “Look, I’ll call us an Uber. I’ll have it drop you at the venue and then take me back to the shop.”

“I’m really sorry you went through the trouble. Thanks for trying, at least.” Jaehyun said sheepishly.

“Don’t mention it, our ride will be here in 10 minutes.”

The two of them sat awkwardly for a moment before the heat in the dusty old car became too much.

“I’m gonna stand outside.” She said before getting out, not too surprised that Jaehyun followed. She circled toward the road and leaned against the hood, him following suit, crossing his arms and staring at the ground.

“So, uh,” She began, having to talk a little loud as they watched cars whiz past them on the freeway, at least providing a much needed breeze. “What’s it like being famous?” She asked, unsure of what else to say. She probably wouldn’t ever talk to an international popstar again, so she figured she might as well learn all she can.

He laughed, shifting on his feet and staring at the ground. “I don’t really think about that, I don’t have time to.” He explained, and she nodded as she listened.

“But I mean, this tour has made that more apparent. I had no idea we had so many fans out here.” He said, picking up his head and squinting out toward the road in thought.

“Yeah, those girls were pretty excited, you must be good.” She said, and Jaehyun shrugged.

“I feel like we’ve been talking about me all day, what about you?”

She laughed, “Me? I’m not a popstar. I just work in a bookstore.”

“Yeah, I figured,” He smiled, “What else?”

She stared into the road like he was, the cars racing by a great metaphor for her thoughts right now as she searched out something interesting to say. Who the hell am I? Her inner voice echoed.

“There isn’t much else. I like books, and interesting people, and music, and crab legs.”

He chuckled, “Me too. Man, I haven’t had crab legs in awhile.”

“I know the best place to get crab legs, too bad I can’t take you.” She said in a friendly way, only realizing it sounded a little different as she spoke it.

Before he could respond, a car pulled off on the shoulder behind them, sticking a hand out the window to wave them over. They walked toward it and she checked the license plate before they got in.

“Looks like two stops, is it?” The white-haired man asked, looking through the rear view at them.

“Yep, Main street and Bellview.” She agreed, obviously having to take the lead here.

“Bellview, haven’t been over to that slum in years.” The man said, making her quirk up an eyebrow as Jaehyun gave her a sideways glance, the comment feeling out of place. Before they could respond, the man pulled out into the highway. He then accelerated at an alarming pace, causing her to grab the handle above the door and press herself back into the seats.

“Uh, you wanna slow down?” She asked, and the man tossed his head back and laughed, almost hysterically.

“This ain’t nothing sweetheart!” He hollered as he sped up more, coming up fast on cars and weaving in and out of lanes. She fell into Jaehyun on a hard right jerk and looked up at him, his eyes as wide and frightened as hers.

“What is going on?” He whispered to her, glancing back at the man to make sure he wasn’t listening.

“I think our Uber drive is insane.” She said pulling out her phone and checking the app just to see his 2.3 rating. “Cool. Cool cool cool.” She said under her breath as she started to panic a little. They still had a long way to go.

“Um, sir.” Jaehyun spoke up. “Could you please slow it down a little?”

Despite her fear she had to bite her lip to suppress her laugh at how calm and kind he sounded, like he didn’t want to inconvenience this raging lunatic.

“Hey, I’ll do as I please in my own damn car.” The man shouted back, then jerked the car for good measure, as if to warn them.

“What should we do?” Jaehyun leaned over as far as he could with his seat belt on to whisper.

She looked at her phone again. “He’s getting off the highway in a minute, the next light we hit, we’re jumping out.” She said as low as possible, tucking her phone away. She glanced at Jaehyun and saw his wide eyes.

“Are you serious?”

“I’m not not dying in this car today, especially because your name is gonna be top news and I refuse to be second best in my own death.” She joked, trying to lighten the mood. He still looked worried, but he half-smiled at the comment.

The man almost sideswiped 3 cars getting on the off-ramp, a succession of honking drivers behind them as they sped off. There was a light ahead, it was green, but it could change. She discretely took off her seat belt and nodded at Jaehyun to do the same.

By some miracle the light turned red and the man slammed to a halt, almost throwing them into the front seat, but they were quick to react.

“Now, gogogo!” She yelled, pushing Jaehyun toward the door and following him out the right side. They scrambled out of the door, almost falling onto the pavement in the process and scurrying out of the road to the bewilderment of the other vehicles sitting at the light. They could hear the man screaming after them, but his voice faded out as they found the sidewalk and ran.

They didn’t keep it up long, slowing to a walk and panting, looking back.

“You think he’ll follow us?” Jaehyun asked.

“No,” She breathed heavily, “I think we’re good.”

They took a moment to collect themselves, pausing on the overpass. Jaehyun leaning against the railing to take a breather while she made sure she still had her purse. Luckily she did, but as she searched through it, something was missing.

“What’s wrong?” Jaehyun asked as he noticed her digging through her bag.

“My phone,” She said frantically, checking the pockets over and over. “It’s not in here, it must’ve fallen out in the car.”

Jaehyun’s face fell and he ran his hand through his hair, looking back over the bridge.

“God dammit, I’m really sorry I just keep fucking up this day for you.” She forced a laugh, feeling like a total idiot.

“None of its your fault, just a weird series of events I guess, I’m sure we’ll figure it out.” He nodded, and reached over and pat her on the back. He paused for a moment, rubbing his hand over her shoulder in a comforting gesture before quickly taking it away. It was strange, but also made her blush.

“I kind of know where we are,” She suddenly cleared her throat to say, looking around. “I think if we keep walking this way we’ll hit a popular tourist street, maybe someone will let us use a phone.”

They started to trudge, taking it easy after the ordeal they’d just had. Jaehyun walked with his hands in his pockets, kicking his feet and taking in his surroundings. It was hot, and she walked with a hand to shield her eyes.

“Ah-ha! I knew it.” She said as they came up on the corner to a street lined with little shops and restaurants, and plenty of foot traffic. “Remember those crab legs I was telling you about?”

“Yeah?”

She gestured across the street to ‘Big Louie’s Cajun Crawdads”, Jimmy Buffet blaring through some speakers and patrons sitting on an outside patio enjoying seafood and beer.

“I don’t have much cash on me.” Jaehyun said, looking longingly at the restaurant. She nudged him with her elbow and started to walk.

“It’s on me, and it’ll give us a chance to figure out how we’re going to get you to the arena.”

Jaehyun followed her, and once there they were seated outside in the open air, but properly shielded from the sun. Despite all the craziness of the day, it was hard not to enjoy the perfect weather and anticipation of a delicious meal.

“I need a drink.” She spoke then, grabbing the drink menu, then chancing a glance at Jaehyun. “If that’s okay with you.”

“One should be okay,” He shrugged one shoulder, to her surprise ordering himself a beer when the waiter approached.

“I thought boybands had to be all wholesome and sweet.” She teased.

“Drinking is almost mandatory where I’m from, but you’re not wrong, there’s an image to uphold.”

“That must get stressful, unless you’re a goodie-goodie and it comes easily for you.”

He laughed, “I mean I’m not trying to get into anything too crazy, “ He said, “But it’d be nice to take a girl out every now and then. I don’t really have the time for that, and it would be difficult to do so without being seen.”

“You’re out with a girl right now.” She commented, then quickly tried to cover her tracks. “I mean it’s against your will, and you’d probably like to be out with a girl of your choosing, but-”

He cut her off with a good natured smile, “No, you’re right. I am out with a pretty girl, I should enjoy it.”

She stopped and swallowed hard, feeling it suddenly get very hot despite the outside breeze. They dropped the subject, but she could have sworn Jaehyun had a knowing look.

Their drinks and food came and they gorged themselves, barely pausing to talk. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was, most of it probably from all the calories they’d burned through adrenaline alone, and she watched Jaehyun destroy his food and caught herself laughing a couple times at the way he shoveled it all in.

“Okay, you’re right,” He finally spoke after most of it had been consumed. “These are the best crab legs I’ve ever had.”

“I told you,” She grinned, feeling the beer warm her cheeks. “It’s the spices, you can’t beat their secret recipe.”

Sufficiently stuffed and slightly buzzed they relaxed for a moment, though in the back of their mind knowing it was getting late and they would have to get a move on. She caught Jaehyun peering into the restaurant at the dancefloor in front of the bar where people two-stepped to country music.

“I don’t suppose you do that type of dancing.” She chimed in, and he laughed.

“Not quite.”

“You could always try, for an authentic American experience.”

She was mostly joking, but was surprised when he went to stand and reached across the table for her hand.

“Only if you join me.”

He started to walk, tugging her along, and her eyes widened in panic.

“Uhh, I don’t really know how-”

“Good, me either” He turned back as he spoke and flashed a smile that made her relent.

Luckily the beer they’d had was big enough to rid her of some of her inhibitions. He pulled her into a waltz-like hold but they fumbled over their feet trying to find the steps the others were doing around them. A nice older couple even stopped to try and show them how, but Jaehyun stepped on her toes and they broke into a fit of laughter. He pulled her upright, determined to get it right, but still giggling like a child.

“I swear I’m a much better dancer usually.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“You could always come to the show.”

“What, really?”

He swayed her gently.

“ mean it’s the least I could do. You could’ve abandoned me hours ago.”

“Yeah, I thought about it a couple times.” She said with a completely straight face, surprised that Jaehyun seemed to buy it for a moment.

“I’m kidding! Really it hasn’t been so bad hanging out with you.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” Jaehyun leaned in and she nodded.

“This is the most fun I’ve had in months.”

He spoke so sincerely it made her feel funny, her stomach doing a little flip.

“Man, if you think this is fun you must not get out much.”

He laughed, “I’m serious, I haven’t felt this free in awhile, plus as much as I love the guys it can be tiring hanging out with the same dudes all the time. It’s nice to be around someone different, someone….softer, I guess?” He stopped and shook his head, clearly embarrassed and a little buzzed, “I mean, since you’re a lady and all it’s nice to be around-ah, I’m not explaining myself well.”

“I get it,” She interjected to help him out, only just now realizing how close they were, her chest pressed into his.

They hadn’t been paying attention and had slow-danced their way toward the edge of the bar, back by the bathrooms where it was a little darker and there weren’t any patrons. She looked up into his eyes fully and liked how they gleamed back at her.

“I’m thinking about asking you something,” He spoke up then, his voice taking on a serious tone. “I feel like I shouldn’t, but I also know I’m not going to get another opportunity after today,”

“Shoot,” She breathed, trying to remain casual.

“Can I kiss you?”

He was so earnest, staring down into her face, now standing still but holding her against him. He was strong and warm and she barely knew him but also felt like she had met him years ago. What could it hurt? Her inner voice asked her, and she found herself nodding, mouth agape and eyes wide.

He noted her confirmation but he was slow about it, leaning in and letting his eyelids drift closed. She kept hers open longer, wondering if he was actually going to do it or see if it was just a big joke. When his soft lips brushed over hers it became very real, and her own eyes fell shut as she tilted her chin and kissed him back.

It was tender and deliberate, and she couldn’t remember ever having been handled so preciously by a man, as one hand came up to cradle her head. It deepened faster than she expected, a hunger taking over. It was propelled by their fear and want, pushing them together in such strange circumstances and making them feel so safe together.

He got ahead of himself, pushing into her as she swayed back and connected with the wall behind her, but he followed and they didn’t stop. Now her hands moved up around his neck, pushing through his hair at the back of his head, bringing him down into her as one of his hands fell to her hips and pulled her back. She didn’t know what had gotten into either one of them, but she didn’t really feel like thinking about that right now.

Just as he was pressing her into the wall, ghosting his thumb up under her shirt and against her hip, someone cleared their throat.

They detached quickly and broke apart fully when they saw a burly, older man needing to get around them for the restroom. She wiped her wrist over her moistened mouth and hung her head as Jaehyun apologized and moved out of his way.

“We should find a phone.” She spoke up, and he agreed.

She went to the bar and at first they were reluctant, telling them that only employees could use the phone. She tried her best to explain the situation and the girl paused.

“Wait, what group?”

“NCT 127.”

“Are you serious? My little sister loves you guys.”

“Really?” Jahyun grinned and rubbed the back of his neck and she cast him a sideways glance, half-smiling at his sheepish response.

“She’s going to the show tonight, she’d kill me if I didn’t help you out.” She laughed, retrieving the wireless from the base and handing it over. “Hey, you think you could sign something for her?”

“Of course!’ Jaehyunn lit up, and she watched as he came around the bar and continued to chat with the woman, asking about her sister, seeming genuinely interested. After he signed a napkin and took a photo, doing so like it was second nature, he came back and she handed him the phone.

“Lets see if I can remember my manager’s number.” He laughed, staring at the buttons for a long time and trying a few out. It took about 4 or 5 tries but finally he remembered and got through.

The swiftness with which he switched to Korean startled her at first, but she sat and listened and liked how he spoke even when she couldn’t understand him.

He nodded his head and repeated himself as his face drew tight, and she didn’t have to know the language to understand that he was apologizing profusely. When they hung up, he sighed in relief.

“They’re sending a car for me.”

“This nightmare is finally over.” She said with a chuckle.

“I wouldn’t call it a nightmare.” He grinned, and she shrugged, her mind traveling back to what they had been doing a few minutes ago and feeling a blush creep up her neck.

They went outside to wait, chatting idly before a van pulled up.

“Well, have a good show.” She waved, and he furrowed his brow at her.

“You’re not coming with?”

“Now?”

“Yeah, you wanna see the show, right?” He grinned.

“Are you sure I’m allowed?” She asked, glancing at the impatient driver.

“Trust me, they’re not gonna mind after I tell them how you saved me today.” He said, nudging her arm to follow him into the back of the van. She hesitated, but decided now wasn't’ the time to be unsure.

They rode to the arena and parked in the back, going through a private entrance to the backstage. A couple people rushed over to him, speaking quickly as they walked with him as he kept up his pace, throwing her an encouraging smile as she came along.

“Bro, where the hell were you?” A male’s voice caught her attention as someone came out of a room to approach him, looking younger and maybe even annoyed.

“It’s a long story, you got my phone?”

He pulled something out of his back pocket and handed it over. “Hold your own stuff from now on.” He teased him, then glanced at her. Jaehyun followed his line of vision and then turned to introduce her as the girl who saved his hide, and he looked appreciative of her bringing his friend and bandmate back.

“This is Mark,”

“Ah, the Mark.” She said, thinking back to some of the stories Jaehyun had told over their conversations that day.

“What’s that supposed to mean? What's he been telling you? It’s all lies.” He said, reaching over and pushing Jaehyun.

“Good things!” Jaehyun laughed.

“Whatever, we have to get ready.” Mark gestured his head back to the dressing room. “Are you sticking around for the show?” Mark turned to her to ask.

“Uh, I guess so?”

“You should, we’re a lot better than Jaehyun probably let on.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Jaehyun turned Mark around and pushed him toward the dressing room. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Mark went, but when he got to the dressing room door he decided to loudly exclaim, in both English and Korean, that Jaehyun had brought a girl back with him, prompting Jaehyun to sigh in exasperation and her to cover her mouth to conceal her laugh.

“I’ll get someone to find you a place where you can watch the show, if that’s cool?” He asked, placing a hand on her lower back.

She nodded and he went to talk to a female staff member who guided her to a box upstairs. She watched the fans filter in, mostly young girls but to her surprise ranging spectacularly in ages, race, and gender, all holding bulky green lightsticks and voices amplified with excitement.

When the lights went down and the cheers went up, she found herself blown away by the spectacle of it. There were a lot of them, and each one brought a unique voice and performance, but her eyes were mostly glued to Jaehyun. It was impossible not to watch him, and be taken aback by how he’d transformed from everyday tourist to handsome popstar in a matter of an hour or so. His voice, the way he moved, everything about him was different and yet still him somehow, and it made her smile wide, clutching her hands to her chest. The feeling that welled up inside her worried her, it was so intense for having just been introduced to her mere hours before, but she rolled with it.

When it came to an end, she found herself wanting more, and a sliver of sadness crept its way in her heart as she knew this was probably the last time she was ever going to see him again. It shouldn’t make her so upset, she told herself, but she couldn’t help it.

To make things easier, she got up and left the way she came, heading for the back door and out into the back parking lot, realizing she still didn’t have a phone or a way home. She idled there for a moment as the street lights came on, kicking dirt and trying to figure out her feelings.

“Hey!”

A voice brought her back, and she turned to see Jaehyun jogging toward her.

“Did you like the show?” He asked, grinning ear to ear, dressed down but still glowing from sweat and excitement.

“It was amazing, really.” She nodded and smiled.

“Thanks. Also, I know I already said it but thank you for everything today. I can’t believe we got here in one piece.” He laughed, “But I’m kind of glad it all happened.”

“Yeah?” She asked, tilting her head to one side.

“I’m glad I met you.” He nodded, then pulled out a piece of paper he’d had folded up in his pocket.

“Here, I wrote down my phone number, and if that one doesn’t work I have this other number. Oh, and here’s my private email if you wanna hit me up there. I hope you’ll text me sometime. Like...tonight or something.” He explained and she blinked at the paper, looking at how he’d carefully written down his information in detail.

Before she could respond, he pulled her into a hug and she could feel all his heat and affection, making her almost melt in his arms.

“I had a great time with you.” He spoke softly and she laughed off the awkward butterflies in her stomach.

“Me too.”

#nct 127 #jung jaehyun #jung yoonoh #nct scenarios #jaehyun scenarios #kpop scenarios #kpop fanficion #nct fluff #commission

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imjustthemechanic · 6 years

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Natalie Jones and the Golden Ship

Part 1/? - A Meeting at the Palace Part 2/? - Curry Talk Part 3/? - Princess Sitamun Part 4/? - Not At Rest Part 5/? - Dead Men Tell no Tales Part 6/? - Sitamun Rises Again Part 7/? - The Curse of Madame Desrosiers Part 8/? - Sabotage at Guedelon Part 9/? - A Miracle Part 10/? - Desrosiers’ Elixir Part 11/? - Athens in October Part 12/? - The Man in Black Part 13/? - Mr. Neustadt Part 14/? - The Other Side of the Story Part 15/? - A Favour Part 16/? - A Knock on the Window Part 17/? - Sir Stephen and Buckeye Part 18/? - Books of Alchemy Part 19/? - The Answers Part 20/? - A Gift Left Behind Part 21/? - Santorini Part 22/? - What the Doves Found Part 23/? - A Thief in the Night Part 24/? - Healing Part 25/? - Newton’s Code Part 26/? - Montenegro

Look who’s back!

The town of Kotor in Montenegro didn’t have many claims to fame. It had been reasonably important under the Venetian empire, but those days were long gone, and it was only just starting to find new life as a tourist attraction. In many ways it was the exact opposite of Santorini, which had been whitewashed villages clinging precariously to the edges of cliffs, with no trees. Kotor was dark stone and brick clustered at the bottom of a deep, fjord-like valley full of foliage. It was much more sheltered and cool than Santorini, and Natasha decided she would rather have spent a weekend here than on that barren volcanic island.

When they arrived, there was a cruise ship anchored in the bay.

“Wouldn’t it be funny if that were the same boat we saw at Santorini?” asked Clint.

Nat shielded her eyes from the low morning sun and squinted to see the image on the ship’s superstructure. “I think it is,” she said.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” As the sun went behind a cloud for a moment, the light changed and Nat was able to make out the circular logo. “There it is – Zodiac Cruise Lines, the Scorpio II. Same as in Santorini.”

“That’s… actually not funny at all,” Clint decided. “Think how much more fun we’d be having on our little tour of the Balkans if we were on a cruise ship!

“You’d have a way better selection of wines,” said Nat.

“Air conditioning,” Sam agreed.

“Lobsters to race,” said Jim.

“We’d have a way more expensive selection of wines,” Clint corrected. “Santorini was expensive enough. Speaking of which…” He checked his phone. “Laura says if I’m in Kotor I need to find her some smoked ham. Apparently that’s a thing.”

“All right,” said Nat. “We’ll save the world. You can shop for souvenirs.”

“I’m glad you guys trust me with the important stuff,” said Clint.

Before they did anything out, they found a room at the Hotel Vadar, just a moment’s walk from the gate in the old Venetian city walls. The hotel only had one available, due to a last-minute cancellation, and it only had one bed, but they would make do. It would definitely be better than camping out in a construction site on Santorini, or rock-hard mattresses on the creaking cargo boat.

If Neustadt had told them to go to Kotor as part of a trap, then it probably wouldn’t have mattered if they’d all stopped to take a nap first – a mousetrap wouldn’t spring until something touched the cheese. After their encounter with the thief on Santorini, however, they were worried that the alchemist might have decided to take matters into their own hands. On that assumption, they ate a quick lunch and set out for the monastery at once.

The Church and Monastery of the Holy Dove were outside the northwest corner of the town, a short but arduous hike up a very steep path on the mountainside. There were Catholic churches in Montenegro, but this one was Eastern Orthodox, identified by its domed roof and a steeple with three bells, one each for Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. The Square of the Holy Dove outside was thronged with tourists and with vendors selling trinkets to them. On the left side of the church steps was a man selling books of local history in several languages, and on the right were a pair of sisters busking, one with a guitar and the other singing English pop songs. Stray cats and dark-coloured pigeons ran around underfoot.

Trailing behind a tour group from the cruise ship, they climbed the steps to the church and went inside. The interior was unusually bare by Orthodox standards, which had inherited the Byzantine preference for colourful murals with lots of gold. The Holy Dove had once been decorated that way, but the plaster had fallen off the walls in an earthquake in the 1960’s, and since there was little hope of recreating the paintings in their former splendor, the walls had simply been left as bare red limestone. Only a few fragments of the paintings remained, and a corkboard displaying carefully colourized old photographs to suggest what it had once looked like. The austerity had the effect of making the wall of icons at the far end stand out all the more, their gilded surfaces glittering in the shafts of light from the high windows.

A monk was busy re-lighting candles in front of these holy pictures, murmuring a prayer as he did each one. Tourists were taking flash pictures of this, despite posted signs warning that the light might damage the remaining murals. The group respectfully waited until he was finished before approaching him.

“Excuse me,” said Nat. “Do you speak English?”

“Some,” the monk replied. “Do you have questions about the church?” He must be used to being approached by strangers.

“No,” said Natasha. “We’re here to see Brother Luka.”

The young monk went a little pale. “What do you want with Brother Luka?” he asked.

This was not going to go well, Nat could already tell. “He has something a man named Neustadt needs,” she said. “He was supposed to send it to him?”

“Wait here,” said the young monk.

He vanished through the back door of the church, leaving them to wait there a while and contemplate the crumbling paintings that remained on the insides of some of the supporting arches. These were mainly the faces of saints, with their names in Greek lettering next to them. By one was a man on a ladder, using some sort of glue to stabilize a bit that was about to fall apart.

The young monk returned, accompanied by the Abbot. This man was also younger than Nat would have pictured a monk, which she tended to think of as a bunch of old men clinging to a dying institution. He was no older than fifty, and clean-shaved, with a jowly face and a strong Eastern European nose. His expression was worried.

“Good morning,” he said to them. “I am Father Slavko of the Brothers of the Holy Dove.”

“Good morning,” Nat replied, and for the sake of looking legitimate, she pulled out her badge. “I’m Dr. Natalie Jones, of the Committee for the Appraisal of Archaeological Peril. We were told to come here and see Brother Luka. The man we spoke to didn’t give us much information.”

“You are the second group of people in as many days who have come for Brother Luka,” said the Abbot, and Nat’s heart sank – Neustadt must have already been here. “A man in a hat came yesterday morning and the two argued. The visitor left angry, and Brother Luka took ill shortly afterwards. He’s now in the hospital in Meljine. The doctors said it was a stroke.”

Something Neustadt had done on purpose, Nat wondered, or just an old man who’d gotten too angry for his own good? “What did they talk about?” she asked.

“I did not hear,” said the Abbot. “It was not my business.”

“Excuse me,” the younger monk said, “I did hear. They spoke about Aleksio the Heretic.”

Aleksio. That was the name from Newton’s notebooks, the one who said The Principle was in the monastery. “Who is Aleksio the Heretic?” she asked.

The Abbot looked over his shoulder at the crowded church and the tourists with their cameras, then moved closer to the group. “Come with me,” he said.

He led them out of the church by the back door, an ornately carved wooden one with big iron hinges that must have been centuries old, and into the area where the monks lived. Outside of the parts open to the public, the monastery was sparingly decorated and without electric lights. The Abbot stopped by a small table and took a flashlight out of a drawer, then produced an immense iron key and unlocked another door, which looked like it might lead to a medieval torture chamber – although the taller members of the CAAP had to duck to go through it, it was made of planks six inches thick, reinforced with heavy iron bands and nails like railroad spikes. When the Abbot opened the door, Nat could see that the nails were so long they went all the way through and protruded a few inches from the back, where they’d been hammered to the side to lie flat.

A very narrow flight of stone steps spiraled down into the darkness.

“Be careful,” said the Abbot. “They are often wet.”

Down they went, in single file. Sir Stephen and Sam, who were both very tall men, had to stoop. Jim bent at the knees, walking like the Missing Link, and Allen hugged his own shoulders, trying to keep from filling the entire space. Only Nat, the shortest, was able to stand up straight. Anybody wishing to go back up would probably have had to go backwards, and anybody behind him or her would have had to turn back, also.

At the bottom was an equally narrow corridor. It went a short way to another door, which the Abbot opened with a different key. The rusted hinges squealed as they moved, thunderously loud in the tiny, quiet space. Beyond was an underground chamber. A little bit of light and a slight draft came in through a set of tiny grates in the floor of the church overhead. Shadows passed by as the tourists wandered around. At the far end of the room was a table, with a little sandbox in which several candles had been set upright to burn, and an ornamental reliquary. In front of the table another monk was kneeling. He’d looked up at the sound of the hinges moving, but saw it was the Abbot, and returned to his silent praying.

“Have you heard of the Cathars?” asked the Abbot.

“They were a heretical group during the Middle Ages,” Natasha replied. “They believed that God and the Devil were equal in power, and the Earth was their battleground. Was Aleksio the Heretic a Cathar?”

“No,” said the Abbot. “His was a much more poisonous idea. He believed that the Devil could not truly be evil, because all the evil he does is in the service of God’s plan. He reasoned that evil would not exist unless God allowed it, and therefore evil can serve good purposes – he thought that Judas would go to Heaven for making Christ’s sacrifice possible, and that the Anti-Christ would be as divine as Christ himself.”

Nat had been hoping for something a little more alchemical. As far as she could tell, this was just theological semantics, and seemed irrelevant. “Neustadt said he had something called the Principle.”

The Abbot nodded. “That is in here. It’s our most holy relic.”

“So why is it hidden away, and not in a place where souls may benefit by it?” asked Sir Stephen.

“For a long time it was because of the Crusaders,” the Abbot said. “It was the sort of treasure they would stop at nothing to possess, and so we pretended it was only a myth. After centuries of that it was almost forgotten. Then we had to hide it away from the heathen Turks, who would have destroyed it if they’d found it – and then there was Aleksio, who said that the Antichrist would come for it on the day of judgment.” He looked up at the ceiling as another tourist’s shadow passed over it. “And don’t think I haven’t wondered if the man in the hat were he.”

“He’s not the Antichrist, he’s an alchemist,” said Natasha. Although she supposed it was possible that Aleksio had thought Newton was the Antichrist… in which case, in a mind that believed everything served God’s plan, Newton might actually be the good guy. “Is it gold?”

“No,” said the Abbot. “It is something infinitely more valuable than that.”

He touched the praying monk’s shoulder, and the man got up and stood aside. The Abbot took a chain from around his own neck and removed a small, tarnished key from it, and unlocked the reliquary on the table.

#fanfic #natasha romanov #steve rogers #sharon carter #clint barton #sam wilson #bucky barnes

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lemonlilyxx-blog · 7 years

Text

Average -Minicat- Part One, Tyler

“Tyler, honey,” the nurse’s voice seemed to fill the air around us and suck any reaction from me, like a poison of it’s own I was to do whatever she said. It was mind control. Manipulating in it’s tone of false safety, a trick I’ve fallen for too many times. “Montoya wouldn’t be terribly happy if you didn’t take the month’s testing injections, isn’t that right?”

“Yeah,” I sorrowfully admitted. “I still say no. My body, my rules.”

“Well, that could be debated. You are under our command, Tyler. And that command is where you agree to let us do our research, okay honey?” He voice was twisted and wretched, growling deeper and deeper with every word.

“I want nurse Kelly,” I whimpered. “She’s nicer than you. Where did she go”

“Nurse Kelly isn’t here, and will never come back ever again.” She hissed, anger suddenly flooding through the blonde’s veins. “Nurse Kelly isn’t coming back for you, or Evan, or Anthony or anybody, now or ever. You hear me?” Her face was twisting into darkness, eyes blue to black, being sucked into a void of nothingness- what it looked like when they injected the chemicals into me the first time. The room was swaying with blackness, heat, death. I closed my eyes, and tried pushing it all away, pushing away my motion sickness from the floor swaying beneath the rolling cot. Then it stopped, and the most spine-chilling voice reached out to me through the white walls that only the nurse and I were in.

“Tyler, wake up,” Montoya hissed. “Wake up, wake up. Dude!”

I jerked up and away, smacking my head against something solid, and two pained groans filled the room.

“Evan, what the hell man?” I asked, slurred with sleep. The Canasian winced slightly while rubbing his head. Either a new bruise or new swelling, hard to tell seconds after it happened.

“You started screaming again. Was it the, uh..?” Evan began, yet his voice trailed off in fear that when he finished his sentence I would hate him for it. But even he knew I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.

“Yeah, it was. Goddammit, sorry, did I wake you?” I asked.

“No, I also uh, woke up with nightmares.” He sighed. I nodded, heart full of sympathy. It was what we get for escaping, for knowing the truth behind that lab. Whether it was a blessing or a curse, neither of us knew. But at the moment, it seemed like a curse. One that would creep up on us each day, whether it was the nightmares that haunted us, or being shocked full of fear whenever we saw the logo plastered anywhere and everywhere. Or maybe it was even when we were thrust out onto the playing field when the city was too selfish and dumb to save itself from itself.

“What time is it?” I muttered, mainly to myself, as Evan flopped down next to me and I rolled over to grab my phone. 5:49 in the morning, I guess eleven minutes off wouldn’t screw me near at all. “Want some coffee?” I asked Evan, who nodded slightly. It was no use trying to go back to sleep now. I quickly made my way out of my bedroom and down the hall, where Evan’s bedroom was wide open for all to see what was inside. His TV had a show I didn’t recognize playing on it, which meant he was probably up hours before me, and finished Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. in less than a week.

I hopped down the stairs to our apartment and into the small kitchen, quickly brewing up coffee for Evan and I, and setting his mug on the counter. He’d probably fallen asleep in my bed again, too exhausted to manage to his own. It was normal. With the late nights we sometimes needed to pull, and then waking either ourselves or the other up. Our sleep schedule was heroically screwed.

A few minutes later, Evan clomped down the stairs with his hair a rumpled mess and deep bags under his eyes. He gave me a grateful gaze before grabbing the lukewarm mug off the counter and taking a long swig, before jumping up and sitting on the counter as a replacement for his mug. After another few minutes of relaxing silence, Evan hopped off his ‘seat’ and into the living room, the TV quickly flipping on after and the soft hum of news reporters talking about boring shit as always. Though, from where the TV peaked out from behind the wall, there was a logo slowly flowing by at the bottom of the screen in the text bar. I didn’t focus on what is said. Only the haunting logo. The same one that I had stared at for hours and hours a day, the only thing that kept me from panicking from all the needles being pushed into my sore arms, the beating into obedience, and the glares the other experiments had given me, jealous of my apparent ‘success rate.’. Plastered from coats to mugs to pens and even the wall.

It was only Evan’s mocking voice that brought me back from the pain of what was once my life, our life. “Tyler, it’s the guy you like,” he teased. Pretending my innocence in confusion, I waltzed into the living room.

“Huh?” I muttered, sipping the cooling coffee in my mug, hiding my small smile.

“The news reporter that you always get blushy gushy all over. What was his name, like, Peter or something?”

“Craig,” I corrected, and Evan’s lopsided smile grew into a large, satisfied grin.It took me a minute to realize I had just completely admitted that I had a thing for him. “Wait no, that’s not what I mean’ta say, uh,” I tried, and failed. It was far too obvious for Evan to stumble away from.

“Dork,” Evan laughed. “Sit down so you don’t fall over yourself, heart-eyes.” Evan patted the spot next to him, and I flopped down.

It would be useless to try and argue with Evan about how I didn’t have this crush, how easily swayed Tyler was when he first saw the chestnut hair, and brown eyes that seemed to change to green in an instant. But it’s a lot harder to run into a news reporter at a grocery store than one may think.

s almost ended accent.

“Damn, Tyler, stop drooling,” Evan laughed, and I hid behind my mug, taking a long sip and ignoring the Canasian.

“Hey, Evan, I might sneak down there in a bit and see what’s happening around. Y’know?” I breathed.

“You mean ‘and see how my boyfriend is doing,’ correct?”

“Shuddup, fucktard.”

“Love you too, asshole.”

“Reporting live on the scene at Danville Park, I’m Craig Thompson from TDC News, and will be right back with you after these messages, and talk about the opinions of some of the protesters. Have a wonderful morning.” The screen switched to an ad about some useless brand of orange juice, and I stood up and stretched, grabbing Evan’s empty coffee cup from his hands and bringing it into the kitchen.

“I might join you too,” Evan sighed from the living room. “I mean, it could be fun. You never really know.”

“Oooh,” I laughed, “does somebody have a crush too?” I mocked in a sing-song voice. “Who is it, that chick Veronica? Or the guy who probably used to be a porn star, what was his name, Harry? Harry Sparkledick?”

“Shut up, Tyler,” Evan snapped, but I could hear the blush on his cheeks through his words. “Neither of them.”

I asked, dropping the mugs in the sink and parading back into the living room, where Evan had curled up under a blanket and was staring daggers through the TV.

“Can we not act like immature middle grade kids?” We both let out a too-exhausted laugh.

“Y’know, it’ll depend.”

“On what?”

“Whether you have a crush or not.” Evan let out a long groan, and I snickered.

“Oh look, Tyler,” Evan kicked my side. “It’s your husband.” I sorrowfully admit, I turned to look at the screen. Craig was back talking to a girl wearing a plain white t-shirt and business coat. She looked to be in a hurry.

“Do you care to give us your name?” Craig asked politely.

the woman growled, and the reporter suddenly looked extremely nervous, as if this woman was a bomb about to go off. But surely he has had his fair share of assholes, right?

“Okay,” Craig cleared his throat. “What’s your opinion on the spectacle about the court case?” His normal voice and initial fear had dispersed.

“I don’t understand it,” her voice had gone from snappy librarian to a sickly sweet grandmother with a knife in her pocket, trying to coo her children to eat the cookies. “A man violates a woman, forces her into adulthood, then steals her money.” She shifted the bag slung across her shoulder and I nearly started screaming at Craig to run.

“Evan?”

“Yeah?”

“We need to get down there right now. Right fucking now.”

“Wha- Wait why?” He turned to stare at me.

He did as their own conversation went on behind the screen, oblivious to it all.

“Tyler I bet she’s just on her way to-”

“Evan Fucking Fong, that is the B.C.T.R.F. standing right there for us, right there for us to finally fucking just,” I let out a groan. “Evan we leave now.”

“Now, like, now now?” “Get the fuck ready now, I’ll grab the car and you grab our things.”

“Done,” Evan nodded. Despite knowing that this man would be right by my side the entire time, it still felt like I was going out alone. Alone in a lab of crazy people, only looking to sample my blood and create more of their mutants, and ruin more people’s once average lives.

Hey look I did a thing that that is idk. Hope you enjoyed???

Oh yeah this is art one it won’t let me do shit to the title y'know

#minicat #vancat #au #seananners #what else do i put here #i'm new at this what now do i just type #hope you enjoyed???

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writingismyhappytime · 8 years

Text

Bucky Barnes

Bucky Barnes x reader (eventually)

Warnings: Language, violence, explosions, mean aliens, pie

A/N: I have no idea what come over me, or why I’m suddenly delving into the Marvel franchise headfirst. All I know, is this is pretty long, but then again, I did write it. I have no self-control, I swear. Enjoy!

Bucky.

"Barnes!" you gasp, lying flat on the ground where you've been thrown by the explosion of a nearby car. You're really getting sick of being knocked around all the time, tossed through the air by some kind of freaking alien or asshole in a suit.

You regret ever associating yourself with the Avengers.

This isn't even your day job!

You own a bakery, for fucks sake!

You know your cheek is cut, you can feel it stinging, the blood starting to run down your face. The pavement is hot beneath you, and you reluctantly push to your knees, body aching in every possible way.

Stupid Captain America.

If he'd never walked into your bakery, you wouldn't even be in this situation!

It had just been another Saturday, where you'd been icing your cakes and baking your fucking muffins like you always do. You like routine, you like knowing what to expect out of your day.

You'd known who he was the second the bell above your day had dinged, but you'd plastered a smile on your face and asked how you could help him.He didn't look that intimidating in person and out of his fancy, patriotic suit, either. He'd just been a blonde man in your shop looking at overpriced cupcakes.

If that damned earthquake hadn't happened, due to some alien interference you're sure --- if the stupid ceiling hadn't cracked, if that stupid beam had just stayed in place ---.

You can literally go on forever.

You'd literally made a list at one point.

You never should have reacted the way you had, but it had been instinctual. You'd reached up thoughtlessly, jutting your hand into the air. The ceiling, which had started to collapse on the two of you --- how the hell did you have such bad luck that he of all people was in your shop that day??? --- causing it to halt in middair. You'd held it there for a moment, then shoved with all your might, forcing the ceiling to go back in place. You'd twitched your fingers, hearing the grind of metal twisting.

You weren't an idiot, you'd known if you didn't fix the beam somehow the ceiling would just fall down again, and you'd just finished baking that tier cake, it didn't need to be squished!

However, saving your cakes had put you in the spotlight. You'd had the unfortunate mishap to be born with an extra ability, one you've mastered quite well. You'd never been afraid of it, rather, you'd embraced it. You're an orphan, so you've never had some caring, prying family in your life.

You grew up by yourself, made your own way in life, and mastered (you hope), your ability. You're no Scarlet Witch by no means, but you consider yourself a force to be reckoned with. Apparently, thanks to Captain America's big mouth, so did S.H.I.E.L.D. You'd been put on their stupid watch list, and basically been drafted against your will into the Avengers!

You're still incredibly pissed over it, having to drop everything to rush out everytime some alien got a hair crossed in his ass. You blame Steve Rogers, and you remind him of it every day you're in his presence. You know he feels guilty, and you're going to milk that as long as you can.

You should be home working on your cake, drawing those cute little frogs across it for that kids birthday tomorrow. This stupid battle was making you incredibly behind schedule!

Oh, wait --- you shouldn't be lost in thought right now, had you hit your head or something? Yeah, because a concussion is exactly what you need right now.

You shake your head, trying to concentrate. You look up, and force yourself to your booted feet, having to wear the black armor with the governments logo on it --- you can't very well save the world in a dye-stained apron, you suppose.

You lick your lips, finding you're steady. Bucky is halfway down the block from you, his metal hand wrapped around some other mans throat --- you hope that's just an enemy and not an unfortunate civilian.

Battle is so loud, too!

You've never been in a fight, so of course they'd trained you how to defend yourself. You know the basics, although you doubt you'll ever have to use it. If you notice someone, they're not getting anywhere close to you.

You can hear some more errant explosions, the sounds of fighting and angry voices --- is that a dog barking somewhere?

"Stupid freaking aliens," you mutter, brushing your black clothing off, dust covering your dirty hands. You're a stickler for hygiene, something else you're not appreciating.

You start forward, knowing you can't just stand there all day. You're not sure who exploded the car ten feet from you, but they're getting an earful back at their tower! You're not invincible, or in a multi-million dollar suit, either!

You're literally in some tough nylon or something!

You raise your hand, your body moving before your brain even registers what happens. The piece of falling building, a good chunk of a skyscraper, suddenly hovers in the air. Ah, yes, more random civilian screams, wonderful for your headache.

You frown, and move your hand, gently setting the chunk onto the sidewalk.

Natasha had asked you once how your power worked, if you felt the weight of the objects you could move. You don't, it's not like you can actually --- well, it's hard to explain. You just think about something, and it moves. You've found using your hands help you maneuver it a little better, help sort out where you want it to go, although you don't need to use them. You can feel a pull, and eventually it's like your muscles start to ache and burn if you use your power too often.

Today, though, mostly you've just been tossed out of a moving car and tossed through the air.

It's not started off well, you realize.

The scowl on your face is permanent as you stride forward, your long hair drawn back into a ponytail, which you can feel hitting your back. You're impatient for the fight to be over, for everything to calm down where you can go home again.

You just want your peace and quiet back.

To be alone once more.

"Barnes!" you call, seeing the metal man taking a brief moment, his beady eyes flicking around the war torn area of the city. He was surrounded by debris and a few bodies, and you gave him props for being such a badass. He doesn't talk much, he has that wounded, angry look in his eyes all the time that lets you know the world was shit to him too.

You know Rogers story, what happened to him --- the entire world basically did. You know about Hydra, how it kidnapped Barnes and tortured him and made him go all badass for a while. Rogers gets stuck in an ice berg and his buddy becomes the Terminator --- another reference neither of them get, too.

Bucky doesn't hear you, your voice is drowned out by the rumbling. Your steps falter, and you look up, eyes widening as the sun is blocked out.

No one said anything about some crazy spaceship!

Fucking aliens!

You hesitate, then make for cover immediately into one of the empty shop doorways, not about to be a target on the middle of the street. Bucky, however, doesn't move, just stares up at the giant, hovering craft. It's humming, which you find kind of strange, you're not sure what it's doing.

You can hear the radio crackle in your ear, the ear piece suddenly reminding you that you're connected to everyone else as well.

Huh.

Have they heard all your cussing?

"Does anyone else see that giant tin can?" you hear Rogers ask, sounding resigned. You've no idea where the rest of your teammates are, you're all spread out around the city at this point, Iron Man and his winged brobro flying around above.

"Who's is it?" Natasha demands, her voice crackly and hard to hear, she must be farther away. "Can anyone tell what it's doing?"

"Right now, it's just hovering." Barnes says, his voice clear in your channel. His accent isn't as heavy now as it used to be, not like when you first met him a few months ago. Sometimes it slips back in, little words lilting. "Should I investigate?"

"No, don't engage. Let's not entice it." You hear Tony Stark interrupt. "I'm a few minutes away, I'll scan it. Is there any markings?"

"Not that I can see." Bucky's voice is thoughtful, but you can see his scrutinizing gaze. He has no idea you're nearby, you're sure of that. You don't intend to reveal yourself, either. Hopefully, you can just disappear into another direction.

"Everyone, check in." Rogers sighs. You hear everyone mumble into their mics, and you know Rogers is counting off on his fingers, making sure the number is right. You don't immediately say anything, it not occurring to you to even speak. Most of the time, you feel more like an observer, just like you have your entire life.

You're not really a part of them, and you never will be. You're just someone who's come into their lives for a brief moment, staying on the edge of their attention spans. You'll disappear soon, just like you always do, and they'll forget all about you.

It's happened enough to you in your life that it doesn't bother you anymore.

Your eyes flick up, your white teeth digging into your plump lower lip as the ship suddenly makes a funky sound, like crunching metal. You stare as the bottom starts to open, metal grinding as something starts to drop out of it.

"Shit! Shoot it down!" Barnes suddenly gasps, his voice startled. "It's a weapon, it's another one of those ---."

He doesn't get to finish.

The weapon he spoke of, it looks like a giant laser. The spaceship is hovering between the buildings, probably about eighty stories above you. It's blocking the sunlight, making it impossible to focus on anything else. The laser is now out in the open, very machine looking, something you're not very good with. It almost looks like someone just build a large version of a childs toy.

However, as you see the rings around it spin quicker, lighting up a bright, bright red, you know it's no toy. You can feel the heat from where you stand on the street, and you grit your teeth, hunching down a little more into the brick doorway.

This so isn't your day.

The laser deploys, causing you to gasp as your hands fly to your ears. You whimper, curling in on yourself at the high pitched, milk-curdling sound it emits. The sound of the explosion is awful, and the ground around you rocks and rumbles. You can feel the backlash seconds later, the force of the attack shoving you hard into the wall; you can't move, all you can do is helplessly lean against the wall, the force absolutely too much. You can't even breathe, your lungs feel like they're burning!

Shit!

Finally, finally, it's over! You collapse down onto your knees, sucking in long lungfulls of air. You hardly dare look behind you, you hardly dare think about what you're going to see. You can hear everyone screaming over the radio channel, bellowing to take the ship down no matter what. You don't see what everyone is going to do about it, you can see Stark hovering around the ship, staring down at the glittering shield around it.

This is your city, and it's being destroyed.

You feel almost helpless as you look up, knowing you're once again covered in dust and ash. Your skin is prickling, the heat is starting to get to you, and you're having a hard time breathing again there's so much pollution in the air.

You've been in a few battles, but nothing has ever been like this.

It's awful.

And you can't do anything about it!

You clench your hands, your hair falling around your face, sticking in the blood on your cheek. You stare upward, watching as Tony throws everything he has at the spaceship, missiles lifting from his shoulders and smashing into the craft over and over --- he wasn't making any difference!

"Status report!" Rogers demands, and for a brief moment you're irritated; did none of them even notice you didn't say a word?

"The south side of town is done," you hear someone cough, although you don't recognize the voice. "It's burning to the ground."

Wait.

The south side?

Your shop!

No!

You worked twelve years to buy your own bakery, you've basically worked it from the ground up! There's no way --- did aliens just destroy everything you care about? Your home? You live above your bakery, it's literally all you have in the world.

No, no they have to be mistaken. Your shop is on the higher end of the south side, in a nice neighborhood where people walk their dogs down the street and you offer them homemade doggy treats because you like animals better then people. Surely, the ----.

"How bad is it?" You hear Rogers ask hesitantly.

"It's bad."

Fuck!

They'd fucked up your shop!

You look up angrily, your nails digging rivets into your palms. These aliens, whatever the hell they were, are ruining everything for you! You've worked so hard --- you'd just baked that kids stupid cake, and you're supposed to put the stupid frogs on it today!

Your eyes burn for a brief moment, but you're too angry to really grieve. No, you're enraged. You can feel the heat sweep your body, tighten your throat, squeeze your spine. You tense for several seconds, all your happy moments disappearing before your eyes.

You'll destroy them.

Once again, your body moves. This happens a lot, you moving or doing something before you register what's happening. You find yourself crawling up onto one of the nearby cars, getting a little closer to the spaceship. Your neck aches from looking up so long, but at this point, it's the least of your pain. You rub your hands together in anticipation, cracking your knuckles, as if any of that helps.

You tilt your head a little, your eyes narrowing as your hand rises. You know what you want to do, you want to crush every being. You want to start at their throats, you want to squeeze until their eyes pop from their skulls.

Unfortunately, you'll have to settle with that stupid weapon. You angle your fingers, forming them into an almost claw. Considering your body is already aching, if you feel any pain from concentrating your power so hard, you don't notice.

"My fucking bakery," you mutter, your nose curling. "My fucking bakery!"

It's like you can feel your power, another part of you, wrapping around the laser. Stark is still fighting the shield around the craft, as is Falcon and another you don't bother to look at. They're never going to get through the shield in time, you don't see why they don't attack the fucking weapon that's obviously through the shield.

You grind your teeth, hearing your jaw pop. Your power is slithering its way around the weapon, almost like a snake getting ready to squeeze its prey. You can't explain the feeling, you can't explain to anyone how your power works, how it's just simply an extension of yourself.

All you know is that you can control it, you're not a danger to anyone, you've obviously survived the past twenty-something years without causing some kind of catastrophe.

Well, maybe that should change.

You're about to show these aliens who they're bloody well messing with.

You can feel it, your power has curled tightly around that weapon. Now all you have to do is squeeze is a little.

You feel the resistance immediately, your fingers not wanting to curl inward. You're trying, and you can feel the muscles in your wrist strain at the pressure. It's as if your own hand is around the laser, and you're trying to crush it.

You're going to crush it.

You hold your breath, thrusting your other hand into the air. The ship rocks immediately, turning nearly on its side. It rams into the buildings closet to it, causing more debris to crumble downward. You ignore it, feeling your hair lift off your shoulders --- great, now you've lost your hairbow.

That was the last one you had!

Damned aliens!

You shove your hand up again, and for the briefest moment, you can see your power shifting through the air, ramming into the underbelly of the ship and sending it rocking dangerously again. Good, that should help expose the weapon some more.

The craft is half in the building now, and you know it's stuck, it's having a hard time moving. It's not humming quite as loudly now, for which you're glad.

Now, about the crushing.

"Shit!" you hear Stark say, and you see his iron suit back off the ship.

Smart man.

You squeeze your hand again, feeling the pressure start to give. Your lips press into a thin line, and your freezing fingers wrap around your wrist, steadying it. Your neck aches, but you don't break eye contact with the laser weapon, feeling like you're some idiot in a comic book.

You're beyond enraged, all you can think about is your bakery, your livelihood. You don't want to save people for a living, you don't want to fight for the betterment of the world --- it was shit and that was never going to change, so why bother?

The bakery made you feel normal, it's all you have in the shitty world. You treasure it, it's your baby --- and now they've taken it from you!

There's a horrible crunching noise as the weapons begins to collapse in on itself, pieces of it flying off in different directions as your power overwhelms it, choking it. You hear the groans of scraping metal, the explosions as it starts to malfunction. You can feel the smirk overcoming your lips as you tilt your wrist back, the laser groaning as its tilted upward.

They can shove it up their ass.

You bend your arm at the elbow, and then shove up again with all your might, sending the laser smashing through the bottom of the ship. Immediately, fire explodes into the air, and for a moment, it blinds you.

You raise a hand to shield your eyes as the ship literally implodes, taking down the building it's lodged in and everything else around it. You feel the force of the backlash, just like you had the first time.

It knocks you right off the car, sending you sailing through the air --- you should really invest in some bubble wrap or something for the hard landings.

To your inane surprise, the landing doesn't hurt as badly as you expect. You're disoriented for a few moments, your ears ringing painfully, your breathing shallow. The aching of your body is nothing to joke about, your body is letting you know how much it dislikes the situation you're in.

You squeeze your eyes shut, your hand lightly spasming. You hold it tight against your chest, your elbow down tingling, as if it's been asleep for a long time. You're not sure where you are, if you're dead, if you're under debris or if you're ---.

Is that a hand on your ass?

Your eyes pop open, bloodshot and immediately furious. It takes them a second to focus, and you blink, suddenly deflating.

Oh.

You're on top of Bucky Barns, apparently he pillowed your landing earlier.

Nice!

Well, that he pillowed your fall, not that you're on top of him.

Is he okay?

"Barnes?" you wheeze, unable to currently move your body. He's on the sidewalk, his good arm wrapped around your hips, which is why you feel his hand on your ass. He must have grabbed you just as the backlash hit --- he probably saved your life!

So, naturally, you're concerned for him.

His eyes are closed, his head rolled to the side where you can see some cuts on his scruffy cheek. He's breathing, so he's not dead, maybe just unconscious? You hesitate, then roll, groaning as you fall off his chest and onto your side. You cough, your throat burning from the dust in the air.

You can't move, your entire body hurts so badly you could cry. You fight the painful tears, forcing them back --- you can't lost control, not now. You hold your hand to you, just now starting to get feeling to return. You finally dare to look up, seeing nothing but fire in the sky. The ship is done, its in flames, but so is half of the city.

You hope they're all dead.

"Barnes," you mutter again, rolling around until you manage to get to your knees. You frown as you look over at him, hair straggling in front of your eyes.

Is he okay?

You hesitantly raise a hand to your ear, but the piece there is gone, apparently knocked out. You don't know how anyone else is, if they're okay or not. You hope so, but they're of no concern to you now.

"Barnes?" you reach over with your right hand, patting his chest, shaking him slightly.

Well, he's unconscious, that's lovely.

You grimace, glass and concrete crunching beneath your knees, biting into your skin as you shuffle closer. You grab his collar, shaking him roughly, hoping he didn't hit his head too hard.

"Barnes, you fucker, wake up!" you snap, starting to grow worried. He didn't get hurt helping you, did he? You didn't even realize he knew you were around, let alone would rush to you to grab you before you could be seriously injured!

Oh lord.

Now you're starting to freak out.

"Bucky!" You hesitate, both of your hands suddenly cupping his face. "Bucky Barnes, wake up!"

his eyes flutter, but that's the only response you garner.

Your brows furrow, and then your palm strikes his cheek sharply. His eyes pop open almost immediately --- you barely dodge his metal arm as it reaches for you, his body feeling like hes under attack. You roll hastily away from him, watching in alarm as he turns toward you, reaching for you with no emotion in his eyes.

You can see how he could be frightening, that soulless look in his eyes --- you're almost scared of him yourself.

"Barnes?" you gasp, skittering back, as you see the sound of his name jogs him. He blinks a few moments, a look of confusion overcoming his face before he comes back to himself. You let your breath go a little, seeing his dark eyes become their normal warm color.

You like it much better.

"Are you okay?" you demand, although you don't move any closer to him. He nods his head, looking up, hardly acknowledging you now. He stares at the destruction above him, at the heat. Flaming pieces of debris are crashing down all around, it's sort of surprising neither of you have caught fire yourselves.

You probably should move somewhere else, you reason.

You crawl to your feet, letting the wall help you as your legs wobble. Okay, so taking down an alien ship single handedly takes a toll.

You rub your face, brushing the strand of hair off your cheek that had dried in the blood. You pat your pockets, but you hadn't thought to pack anything handy.

Not even a napkin.

You frown, flexing your hand again, feeling it start to return to normal. It's bruised, you know it'll be black and purple in the morning, but you don't care.

It's worth it.

"Come," Barnes suddenly says. You hesitate, tearing your eyes from the flames above you to stare at the dark headed man walking away from you. You don't want to follow him, you want to go home, see what's left of your life. You want to just walk away, go in the opposite direction and not ever look back.

You shouldn't even be in this mess.

But, your legs start moving, although you sort of limp, admittedly. You follow Barnes, seeing he's leading you to where one of the parks are. Are some of the others meeting there? You'd love something cold to drink, something to soothe your throat.

Maybe a hamburger too, that would be nice.

Mmm.

Your stomach rumbles, and you sigh, wishing you'd thought to grab lunch. Your day had turned out so differently then you'd expected.

You and Barnes don't speak, you have nothing to say to each other. You don't know him well, just of him. You know he's quiet, that he and Captain Fancy Pants are close. Rogers babies him, kind of treats him like a wounded, wild animal most of the time. You doubt Barnes will turn on the Avengers any time soon, he seems pretty attached and content in his place at the moment.

You figure you like him well enough, even with those wounded eyes of his. You don't like looking at them, you feel sad every time you do. You can't imagine what he's gone through, what it must have been like. You're not sure if he was awake all those years, when he was brainwashed and all that, if he knew everything he did. You sort of hope that he didn't know, maybe it would be a little less guilt for him.

Poor Barnes.

You think that sincerely.

You know you're half sarcasm, but it's how you function, get through the day. Usually your smart comments are taken the wrong way, and you don't bother to correct people. The less they like you, the more they'll leave you alone.

"You could slow down," you finally grumble, irked at his quick pace. You're having a hard time keeping up with him now, you're absolutely exhausted. You've fallen quite a bit behind him, and finally you just stop. He ignored your words, so you doubt he'll notice.

You sit down heavily on a set of steps, your legs going out from under you. You simply can't walk another step, and you're not going to force yourself. You're very sure you're going to have blisters tomorrow.

You stretch your legs out in front of you, looking at the holes and rips in your black jeans. You're so tired, you don't want to fight anymore. You can still see the spacecraft from where you sit, and you're content to watch it pop and crackle from the distance.

You look over, but Barnes is no where to be seen. You're glad he kept going, you don't really want to see any of the others. You lean your shoulder against the railing, taking mental notice of all your aches and pains.

It'll be worse tomorrow, of that you're sure.

You continue to work your hand, if you don't it burns. It's so sore, and you hate it when it's like that.

You're also glad you lost your ear piece, you don't have to listen to anyone speak, either.

What's that?

You blink, seeing something suddenly detach from the flaming spacecraft. It's another, much smaller ship, probably full of whatever survivors were left. The survivors of the evil, fucking aliens that burnt down your fucking bakery!

Your hand rises again, and you see the escape pod suddenly jerk in midair, struggling. It's all you can do to hold it still, to not let it escape. You can feel it pushing, bending your hand back, but you refuse to let it escape.

They're not going to get away with this!

You won't let them!

You’re going to crash it.

You bring your hand down, and the pod follows, tumbling hundreds of feet and smashing into the center of an intersection a block away from you. Your hair lifts off your shoulders, but you don't move from where you're sitting, just watching.

God, your hand hurts.

You give it a moment, and then fumble to your feet, hopping a little to take pressure off your aching leg. You watch the pod as the dust clears, seeing the dents in it, almost like fingerprints. You hobble forward, your hair falling into your eyes, starting to feel a little numb.

You're so tired, but you're not going to pass up on this opportunity.

You gaze at the pod, seeing the side door fly off, a few aliens staggering out in disarray. They're coughing and hacking, dressed in strange clothing with tight, stretched skin across their faces. You don't know what they are, you don't really care --- they're going to pay.

Again, your hand rises, catching one of them as they start to dart for safety. You catch him by the throat, your head tilting a little again as a small smile plays on your lips. You like watching him squirm in the air, how his legs twist and flail. You're going to choke him to death, you're going to make him suffer.

Or her.

You can't tell.

Your eyes flick to the other aliens, just daring them to make a break for it, to dare move. You'll snap their leg bones into chop sticks.

"Do you know what you did today?" you ask, your voice raspy and harsh. You're not sure if they even understand your language, but you don't care. "You destroyed something very precious to me with your toy gun up there."

You lower the struggling alien to the ground, releasing him. You group your hands together into a circle, forcing all the aliens back to back, whether they like it or not. You know you can crush them, just give one good squeeze and make all their eyeballs pop right out their pointy skulls.

It's not going to bring your bakery back, it's not going to return your life to normal --- but it'll certainly feel nice.

"(Y/L/N)!"

Huh?

You glance over your shoulder.

"Dont!"

"Don't want?" you snap at Barnes, seeing him running towards you. He's pretty quick for a man his size with a metal arm.

You're a little surprised he came back.

"The others saw the pod fall, they're on their way," he informs you, his eyes on your face. He finally gets a good look at you. Your hair is loose now, and there's blood on the left side of your face, strands of your hair dried there. You look rough, your hands shaking where you hold them still. You're going to be in a lot of pain tomorrow, he can tell.

He saw what you did.

He'd turned, he'd watched as you'd climbed on top of that car, how you'd thrust your arm into the air. You'd taken down an entire spacecraft whereas none of Stark's explosives could even make a scratch. You'd brought it down like it was nothing!

What the hell are you?

He's never seen anyone with power like that, not unless they've been genetically messed with. Sure, there's that young witch girl, but she has no idea what she'd doing. The rest of the Avengers are modified, or heavily trained and skilled... or just rich and have their toys.

But you... you're not like the rest of them.

The first day Bucky saw you, Agent Coulson was dragging you into Stark tower, the unofficial headquarters for the Avengers these days. You'd had almost a sullen look on your face, white powder on your clothing, flour he realized later.

Agent Coulson had just sort of announced the newest addition to the team and shoved you down everyone's throats. You're a baker, you have your own place, and you'd stopped a ceiling from falling on Steve's head with telekinesis, if Bucky recalls correctly.

He's seen you fight before, always with an annoyed look on your face. You disappear as soon as the battles are done, he assumes you go home and return to your normal life. You heavily dislike being involved with them, you've made that abundantly clear from the start.

Bucky likes you, honestly. You're quiet, but when pushed, you have a razor tongue. Back in the day, he would have gone after you like a man with a death wish. He would have pursued you until you punched him in the nose --- which is pretty likely, considering your personality. He doesn't say much to you, mostly because he doesn't know what to.

He hasn't read your file, he doesn't know what you're about or your history. He prefers not to know, to not get to know you. In this line of work, you're going to get hurt, maybe even die. He doesn't want to let himself like you and then watch the life drain out of your eyes a few days later.

Still, you amuse him with your biting, sarcastic comments to the others, how obviously disdainful you are. You don't think being an Avenger is glorified, you seem to despise every second of it. You've said over and over what a waste of time it is, and although Bucky doesn't agree, he doesn't argue with you.

Now, he has a great respect for you. You've been holding back a long time, in every battle he's seen you in. Watching you take down an alien spaceship made him understand why you always looked so bored and impatient. You're a strong woman, passionate about your work --- you have a fierce control over yourself he's not seen in anyone. You can control your powers, there's no worry you're going to fly off the handle and destroy half a building.

You managed to stay under the radar for your entire life, until Steve walked into it.

He seems to have that affect, screwing people's lives up just by entering them.

"Don't kill them." Bucky says after a moment, drawing your attention back to him. You're a good person, he knows you are. He doubts you've ever killed anyone in your life, and you don't need that blood on your hand, alien or not. There's a line he doesn't want you to cross, if he's being honest.

He can see it in you, the same pain he feels sometimes. You're uncomfortable around the others, as if you don't quite fit in with them, and he feels the same way. He was once their enemy, and now their friend? No, he knows some of them still hold reservations against him, but he doesn't blame him.

One word from a Hydra agent, one specific word, and he'd be their super soldier again.

It's not safe for people to be around him, to trust him with their lives when so clearly he's dangerous. You have walls, thick ones, built so hardily around yourself Bucky's not worried they'll ever break.

Maybe that's why he likes you, why he'd run towards you when that ship had hit, the only thought on his mind catching you before you hit. He didn't want you hurt anymore then what you already were, he wanted to stop your pain ---.

"Why shouldn't I kill them?" you demand, glaring at the metal man beside you. "Look at what they've done! They've destroyed my shop!"

"You don't know that." You're worried about your bakery? Is it on the side of town that the laser obliterated? Bucky has never been, although he's tasted your cupcakes and they're divine. You're an excellent cook, and your designs are pretty, too. You're an artist as well as a soldier, but every person does have two sides to them.

"Aren't I? They hit the south side, that's where my shop is," you mutter, staring the aliens down, tightening your hands just enough to make them squirm. "I don't have anything left."

What?

Bucky stares at you, a little surprised. He knows you're serious about your shop, but... does it mean that much to you? It's just a building.

"Just don't kill them." he repeats, not knowing what else to say. You glance at him again, growing edgy. His brown hair is in his eyes, black on his cheeks from the fires and all the fighting. He reminds you of a small child, meek almost, despite you know what kind of killer he really is.

You just don't get him.

You doubt you ever will.

"If you kill them, if you take that step, no matter what race they are, you'll have blood on your hands." Bucky says after a moment, still not looking at you. "It's something you can't come back from."

"What makes you think I haven't killed people before?" you scoff.

"You're not that kind of person."

You frown at his words. True, you're not really the malicious, murdering type. You might be spiteful and vengeful, but you've never taken another life. You look at your captives, your helpless would be victims.

You don't want to let them go. They'd destroyed the city, taken countless lives --- why shouldn't you break their bones and make them wish for death?

Admittedly, the first snap and you'd probably puke, you're not really that good with the whole gore thing. Odd, considering your new line of work, but you definitely didn't choose it.

You cut your eyes at Bucky, then back at the prisoners, and then back at him.

You know he's right, that you shouldn't kill them. His words are pretty firm, and you suppose coming from an assassin they're sound. He should know what he's talking about. If you kill them, you won't feel any better about yourself or your situation. Taking their lives won't replace any of the others lost, and it'll just make you feel worse.

You'll become just like them.

You don't want to be a monster.

You hesitate, but slowly your grip laxes, all of the aliens looking relieved as they slump. Bucky relaxes, and you swear for a moment you see the hint of a smile on his lips.

You're suddenly unsure if you let them go for your own sake, or for his.

~~~~~~~

"It looks like just a scratch, you shouldn't need stitches," Natasha says as she leans over you. You nod your head, barely listening to a word she's saying. She and Stark had come blazing in like their asses were on fire, quickly apprehending the very still captives. You and Bucky had just stood there, side by side as they were carted off.

Your fingers curl against your raggedy pants, letting the red haired woman wash the blood from your face. You'd looked horrid, and already your hands are turning blue and purple. No one has mentioned the fact you took down the spacecraft, and you're wondering if they even know.

If they don't, you'd prefer it that way. Your eyes flick to Bucky where he stands with Rogers, a butterfly bandage on his cheek. He doesn't look injured, he looks perfectly ready to rush into another fight.

You don't see how he's still standing.

Your muscles are aching, and their shaking, making it impossible for you to get up out of the chair any time soon. You've never been through anything like that, and you hope to never go through it again. You despise ---.

"It looks like they're retreating for now," Tony Starks voice interrupts your thoughts, and you turn your gaze to him where he walks into the room from the elevator, holding a thick stack of papers in his hand. "Taking down their weapon earlier proved that we're a force to be reckoned with."

"That's a relief," Natasha says, straightening as she looks at Stark. "We'll have time to regroup and form a counterstrike if necessary. We don't know who these guys are, or even what they want. They could be in league with Loki like Thanos, or ---."

"Or they could be something completely different," Falcon interjects, looking troubled. "We're at the disadvantage, I don't like it."

"We'll figure something out, we always do," Natasha assures him, wiping her hands.

"So, how did we take down the ship?" Hawkeye asks, his bow and arrows at his feet. Everyone is gathered at Stark tower, recovering from the recent battle. Everyone else is patched up, you just happened to be last because you're fussy and don't like attention. "Did anyone see what happened?"

You suddenly tense.

You don't want anyone to know what happened.

Your eyes flick to Barnes of their own accord, your face passive but eyes betraying your fear. You don't realize it, but Barnes reads you easily.

"I did." he says after a moment, all eyes turning to him. Your fingers clench nervously in your lap, your back rigid as you wait for him to spill. "It escaped the main ship, but the pod appeared to be damaged. It made it a little ways through the air before something inside malfunctioned, causing it to crash into the street where (Y/L/N) and I were."

You stare at him, an obviously surprised look on your face.

He didn't rat you out?

"Are you sure that's what happened?" the blonde Rogers asks him, standing across the room with shield still in hand. Did he knows Bucky was lying?

"Yes. That's what I saw," Barnes nods his head firmly, unwavering. He doesn't look at you, his poker face is much better then your own. Your shoulders relax slightly as everyone accepts the story, not thinking twice about it, you hope.

You lean back into your chair, gazing at Barnes for a few moments before looking back out over the city.

You hope you have a home to go to after all this.

~~~~~~~~

It's not as bad as you'd thought it would be. Your building is still standing, most of the street is. From the looks of it, though, you won't be opening any time soon. Your windows are all smashed out, whether from looting or just the resonance from earlier, you're unsure. Glass and wall fragments crunch beneath your boots as you hesitantly step inside, sighing at the wreckage.

Your tables and chairs are all turned over and busted, and you didn't even want to talk about your glass display cases, or lack there of. It looks like a few pastries made it where you had them stored in the back, but overall... your bakery is doomed.

How are you supposed to survive when you don't even have a business? You didn't spend eight years slaving away at someone else's bakery, learning all their tricks so you could one day have your own, only for it to end like this!

This sucks!

You walk over to the counter, sliding the back door open.

One apple pie, still in pristine condition thanks to its container. You lift it out of the box, setting it on the counter where your register should be. You stare at it a couple minutes, your heart sinking low in your chest.

Everything is ruined.

What are you supposed to do?

How can you build back from this?

Your eyes go to the door as you hear the bell above it ding, probably the one thing that had survived the explosion. Your brows rise as you see your visitor; at least he'd been nice enough to use the glass-paned door (although of course it held none now), instead of just stepping through the massive holes in the walls.

"What are you doing here?" you ask Barnes, seeing the hesitant look on his face. He glances around, taking in the wreckage of the bakery you'd been so angry over. He supposes it was a nice place a few hours ago.

"I... came to see if you needed anything," he says uncomfortably, not looking at you; he has a habit of that, of avoiding eye contact at all times, kind of like a whooped pup. You wish he would look at you, just once.

"Unless you can rebuild my bakery, I don't need anything from you," you say shortly. You figure he has some ulterior motive, he wouldn't come of his own free will. One of the others probably sent him for one reason or another.

You turn away from him, shuffling through the mess.

"It doesn't... need too much work." he says after a moment, stepping up to the counter. You have a random pie sitting out, the only thing that looks normal and untouched in the entire store. You're fumbling around through some of the debris, mutterng beneath your breath about damned aliens again.

You snort at his remark.

"I don't know if I'll ever be able to open again," you sigh, finally finding what you're looking for. You lift up the squished box, tugging it open. "It's ruined."

"It's not ruined, it just needs some work."

"Work? You mean the entire building needs to be dozed a new one built," you huff, lifting two forks out of the box. You don't want your pie to go to waste, yet you know you can't eat the whole thing by yourself.

And, well, since Barnes is around... you could offer him something, as a thank you.

"Here," your offer him a fork, seeing his brows furrow. You wave it impatiently in his face, wanting him to take it already. "You know what a fork is, don't you?"

"I --- yes."

"Good. Then help me eat this pie, it's the only thing in here that isn't ruined." You mumble, digging your own plastic fork into the crust. "It's apple, so I hope you aren't allergic."

"I'm not."

"Good." you sigh, leaning against the red counter as you lift a bite to your lips.

You want to ask Barnes why he didn't rat you out earlier, why he didn't tell everyone that you're the one who took down that spacecraft. Your stomach had twisted itself into knots wondering over it, but you're honestly too afraid to ask.

He has his own reasons, and you don't want to question them. You hope he doesn't intend on hanging it over your head later on, because you're very sure you'll turn his silver arm into a tuna can.

So, you let it go, instead choosing to eat in absolute silence. It's strange at first, but amiable. He doesn't turn down the pie, nor does he spit it out after the first bite, so you're assuming he likes it. He's just eating silently, his eyes on the counter, never wavering.

Why doesn't he look at you?

Or anyone?

What is he so afraid of?

You're afraid you're growing more and more curious about Bucky Barnes, much more then you should be. You're worried about the fact that maybe --- just maybe --- you're starting to like him in a way you shouldn't. He is attractive, even with the fact he could be a robot. You never denied yourself that, but you definitely don't know this man.

You try not to know anyone, actually.

But that's not the point.

Point is --- you kind of want to know him.

You want to know a little bit about him, he intrigues you. He's a warrior, a fighter, and he'd saved you earlier today when he didn't have too. He'd convinced you not to murder anyone, of which you know you'd have thought of for the rest of your life.

He is just.... peculiar.

The curious case of Bucky Barnes.

You take another bite of your pie, shamelessly looking over him.

It's starting to look like a case you'll want to solve.

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