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im-a-goner-foryou · 6 years ago

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Classic first meeting at a bar ft. snarky asshole! Tony / sorta brat! Peter

Let it be known that Peter doesn't make the wisest decisions.

Idly swinging his legs over the edge of his stool, he peers out from the shadowy corner of the bar he's hiding at; swirling his martini half-heartedly as his gaze lands on Harry-- predictably, on the dance floor, though the pretty redhead in his arms is something new.

So much for sticking by my side all night, Peter thinks bitterly, averting his eyes just as his best friend begins what seems like an attempt eat the girl's face off. Sighing long sufferingly and bringing his sopping finger up to his lips, Peter sucks the faint salty taste of martini off before knocking back the last dregs of his drink and beckoning to the bartender; if he's going to be miserable tonight, he might as well do so with the little help of a few drinks. "One strawberry vodka, plea--"

Before he can finish his order, though, a smooth voice abruptly interrupts him. "So, they're serving minors in bars now are they?" the mystery man-- for that low, silky baritone is one undoubtedly of a male-- chuckles, sliding easily into the seat beside him. "Then again, you youngsters certainly have become much more creative about fake ID's."

Incensed, Peter whirls around to face his unwelcomed guest, mouth already parted around a sharp retort; that is, until his gaze falls and focuses on the man-- then his mind reels to silence, and he feels a flush burn hot through his body. The choice words he had planned to speak were stuck in his throat around the same position his heart was in; all that manages to slip out is an eloquent "uhhhh."

The gorgeous hunk of a man merely smiles down at him, a corner of his lips twitching upwards into a small smirk that screams of smug arrogance as though responses such as Peter's are only everyday occurances for him. Taking in the crisp black material elegantly draped over broad shoulders in the form of a suit that hugs that well-defined figure so perfectly it had to be tailor made, Peter can't help but feel frumpy in comparison-- Christ, that sleek wrist watch alone is probably worth more than his entire outfit.

So stunned he is by the almost off-hand classiness exuding from the older man, Peter's gaze lingers for much longer than considered acceptable before travelling up to the other's face; he startles at the coolly amused expression etched into those handsome features, enough to snap him out of it. Shit, Parker. Get a fucking hold on yourself, you're better than this.

Then the man speaks again in a slow drawl, "like what you see, kid?"-- and just like that, the floaty feeling of entrancement that had washed over Peter melts away; he stares, incredulous, at the haughty expression on that chiselled face. Jesus, just how entitled can this guy get?

"What?" Peter croaks out, having finally found his voice again; clearing his throat he continues vexedly, "I- I'm, not underage."

"Sure," the man scoffs. "And I'm not a world-famous billionare. Who are you trying to fool, kiddo?"

"Don't call me that," Peter snaps, all traces of revernance for his older companion now gone and replaced with irk. "I'm telling you, I'm legal; and so much for the whole 'world-famous' shtick going for you, because I don't know who the fuck you are," he adds, though as soon as the last word leaves his lips he's consumed with regret-- agitating strangers at the bar is never a good idea, after all.

This particular one, however, doesn't seem bothered in the slightest; if anything he seems delighted at Peter's firing back. "Ooh, fiesty, I like that," the man says silkily, before languorously holding out a hand for him to take. "Tony Stark's the name," he shoots a quick wink at Peter-- who, much to his own displeasure, feels himself flush pink in response. "Now you know what you'll be screaming tonight in my bed, sweetheart."

Peter can't help but chortle at that overused line, releasing his grip on that calloused palm to reach back into his glass. "Um, I'm Peter Parker. And what makes you so sure I'll be going home with you, Mr. Stark?" he asks, fishing for the last olive with his fingers and bringing it up to his lips. Dark, undeniably lustful eyes track his movement, zeroing in on his mouth as he rolls the fruit across his lower lip; against his own will, Peter feels a sense of giddy pride at having the man's attention.

"Well," Tony says lowly, still staring as the boy's cheeks hollow slightly to slide the olive into his puckered mouth, "I like to be optimistic about my chances... and there's no way I'm giving up such a pretty little thing like you."

Fuck, Peter had to give him credit; the guy is smooth.

While he tries to not preen visibly under the reverent praise, Tony raises a hand to signal over the bartender once more to place an order for a 'Crown Royal on the rocks' and another drink Peter had never heard of before. "Worth a try for Martini-drinkers," he offers in explanation, turning back with a knowing jerk of his chin at the now empty glass before him.

"Right." Peter rakes his gaze unabashedly across Stark's suit, the salt-pepper of his neatly trimmed goatee, and swallows the bitter olive rather forcefully. Unbidden, he imagines how the coarse stubble will feel against his skin, between his thighs--

"So, you come here often?"

A soft giggle slips past his lips, and Peter thinks he catches out of the corner of his eye Tony's grip on the edge of the counter tighten. "Really, you're gonna go with that pick up line? That's worse than even your first one."

"It's always worked well for me, hasn't it?" Tony quips back easily, chocolate eyes twinkling as he accepts his drink from the bartender. "Never had problems picking up cute jailbait at the bars with nothing more than my charm and cheesy one-liners." He then tips back his glass to down the amber liquid, and Peter takes the oppurtinity to stare at the bob of the man's throat as he swallows, sipping cautiously at his own drink all the while-- the underlying flavour of sweet and floral bursts across his tongue, surprisingly pleasant. Licking his lips to chase any stray drops, Peter senses the unmistakable sensation of eyes pinned on him once more, and this time meets Stark's hungry gaze full-on as he draws in his bottom lip in between his teeth to nibble coyly at it in sudden boost of confidence.

"Mm-hm... so tell me Mr. Stark, are you usually so forward with all your other 'cute jailbait' or is it just me?" he hums, before downing the remaining liquor in his glass in one shot and with a burst of courage- or stupidity, maybe both- he slides off his bar stool to clamour clumsily onto the older man's lap instead; judging by the widening of those blown pupils, the sudden bold move catches Tony off guard just as much as it does Pete himself.

To his credit however, Stark immediately catches up, setting down his glass heavily onto the counter and uncaring of the whiskey sloshing over the rim in favour of supporting Peter's hips instead, tight grip of his rough hands pressing so hard into his flesh the boy's sure there'll be finger-shaped bruises there the next day; just the thought of it is enough to make him moan in longing and roll his hips experimentally to press their crotches against each other. Tony growls low in his ear in return, something deep and primal and fuckfuckfuck Peter's actually wet in his boxers from how turned on he is.

"Just you," the man grunts in answer, then those large hands of his are sliding underneath his shirt and burning hot against his skin; Peter arches into the greedy touch, slings his arms around Tony's neck and buries his nose into the crook of it to breathe in the heady scent of expensive cologne and faded cigarette smoke, desperate to be claimed as Stark's. When Tony pushes him up against the counter so that the edge of it digs painfully into his back and hauls him impossibly closer up his thighs, a needy little whimper escapes him-- and when the older man grabs hold of his chin to bring their mouths together into a messy graceless kiss, Peter feels as though he's going to implode. He surges forward, frenzied in the way he licks into and gets drunk off the lingering bitter taste of whiskey in Tony's mouth; every single aspect of this man so goddamn intoxicating.

Tony himself, though not as wrecked as Peter already is, seems to grow more depraved by the minute; sucking bruises into the trembling length of his neck, knuckles whitening from how hard he grips onto his hips to rock the teen on his lap. "Such a pretty boy," he croons, breaths falling harsh against his skin, burning gaze still all-consuming as it sweeps appreciatively across his body-- Peter flushes at the thought of the state he must be in right now, utterly debauched and practically humping an older man's million-dollar suit in the corner of some shady night club. "Comin' in here with those tight jeans of yours hugging that cute little ass, baby boy, just had to have you..." Tony groans into the crook of his neck, hands travelling upwards to wind themselves into Peter's once coiffed hair and tugging his curls loose; when his clawed fingers tighten around the fistfuls to yank brutally, the boy cries out, squirming helplessly on the man's lap so that the prominent bulge tenting those slacks nudges against the cleft of his ass.

"Ah- oh! Oh god, Mr. Stark!" Peter gasps, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he begins to grind back against the stiff length of Tony's cock, nearly sobbing with the need to feel the thick girth buried inside his clenching hole. "God, god--"

"Nope, though I can understand why you've made that mistake," the man grunts against his ear, snarky even as he's practically fucking Peter through their layer of clothes. When he leans back and tugs the boy's head upwards to meet his eyes, a shadow of a smirk hangs on his lips. "You can call me daddy though, I certainly won't mind."

"I-- I am n-not--" Peter gasps, trying his best to sound defiant; it doesn't have the same effect he's trying to achieve, considering that he's now riding Tony's thigh with unbridled enthusiasm. "-calling you... daddy."

Stark only barks out a raucous laugh in response, cocky as ever-- Peter's beginning to find that it suits the man well. "Oh, we'll see about that by the end of tonight, baby boy."

#starker #peter x tony #drabble #family unfriendly sorta #this is purely self indulgent i'm sorry i just have a kink for asshole! tony #first meeting

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kiirokero · 4 years ago

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Selcouth (KNJ)

Selcouth: Unfamiliar, rare, strange, and yet marvelous. Old English.

Part of the “Protect the Village!” Oneshot Series!

Masterlist

Pairing: CarMechanic!Namjoon x Writer!Reader

Genre: Fluff, a bit of angst, but a happy ending :)

Note: I stg this Aquafina water be hittin’ different nowadays

Summary: Having your car break down? Sucks. Having your car break down in an unfamiliar town after losing basically everything? Yeah, that really sucks. Hopefully, the smartest mechanic in town can get you back on the road quickly.

Word Count: 3.6k

“W-What do you mean you’re letting me go?”

“I mean that you’re fired, Y/n, but I wanted to put it in a nicer way,” Your boss explained, releasing a sigh. “B-But why?” You sputtered out, “Mr. Choi, you know I need this writing job... No other position is open the city...” You begged, having the smallest of hope that he would reconsider. “I know Ms. L/n, but the company is going under, even if you stay I can’t pay you,” Mr. Choi groaned, one of his palms resting on his face.

You felt like crying. Ever since you were little, you dreamed of being a writer and sharing stories with others. When you got older, that dream changed to wanting people around the world to read what you wrote, so why not write articles for newsletter companies?

It was difficult. The city you lived in was full of competition for every job you could name. Office workers, technicians, writers. But you had nowhere else to go. You moved away from home for this. Your family sorta cut ties with you shortly after, never really caring for you in a parental way... They were just there. So you needed to succeed. You needed this job.

And now that was all gone.

So you went home, searched up writing jobs in a 50-mile radius, packed your things, got in your car, and started driving. In the next city over there was a new newsletter company getting started and they were looking for writers. It was just the thing you needed. Maybe this was the universe telling you that you needed a change of pace. That you needed a new routine, a second chance to start over and make life your bitch.

The blur of lush, green trees whooshed past your car windows as you kept your eyes on the coarse road in front of you. The rhythmic hum of the machine you were operating was the only sound you could hear. You had a music playlist, but after an hour and a half, it got more irritating than relaxing. So you sat in silence, mind blank, as you ran on auto-pilot.

Until your car made an odd sputter.

Creasing your eyebrows, you looked at the dials on your dashboard, waiting for any warning light to shine, but none did. You shrugged it off, still feeling slightly uneasy, but trusting your old machine to safely get you to your destination. Besides, there's nothing out here. It has to.

Nothing happened for another half-hour. Just the same methodical vroom of your tires on the road and whoosh of your air conditioning vents. You were just thinking about turning on the radio to whatever channel reached out here when... Sputter... Sputter.

Twice now, your car sputtered twice now. “God, please don’t do this,” You groaned to yourself, praying to whatever miracle maker was in the sky that your car wouldn’t break down on an obscure road with no big commune around for miles. Sputter... Sputtt... Sputter... It was getting worse now, but being the stubborn person you were, you refused to believe that the car you had since teenage hood was finally giving out on you.

Sputter... Sputter... Sput... put... pu.. tttt...

Sighing, you pulled over to the side of the road with what little acceleration you had left on your- now dead- car. You sat there in the driver seat for a second, gathering your scattered thoughts, blinking back your tears of frustration. “I can’t believe this,” You whispered to the quiet air in the car. You hit your steering wheel in anger, immediately regretting it when the sting of the hit hurt your hand in turn. Curse you Newton and your 3rd law.

Pulling out your phone from your backpack that laid in the passenger seat, you looked up mechanics you could call. Surprisingly, there was a tiny village not too far from here, only 2 miles, that had a mechanic. Bangtan Village. “Huh,” You murmured, “Never heard of it,”

You’ve never heard of Bangtan Village before. Then again, you’ve never went traveling around these parts either. You were always confined to the big cities for work, so it wasn’t a mind blowing revelation that there was possibly a village out here.

Dialing the number listed, the phone rung a few times before the voice of a man answered. “Hello Kim’s Car Repair, how may I help you?” His voice sounded very warm and friendly. The soothing tone called down your panicking heart, and for that you were grateful.

“Hey, um, my car broke down, do you do towing?” You asked, nervously fiddling with your fingers.

“Yes we do! Do you know where you are?”

You told him what road you were on and approximately how close to town you were and he reassured you that he would get to you soon. So you had no choice but to wait.

20 minutes later, the rumble of the tow truck caught your attention. A tall man, about 6 foot, stepped out of the truck and gave you a dimpled smile. He had tan skin and gold brunette hair that was dirtied by what looked to be the black residue that comes from working on cars. His brown eyes crinkled endearingly and he was dressed in a simple t-shirt and jeans combo. He looked like the type of man who starred in a romance drama.

“Hello! I assume your the Y/n I spoke to on the phone?” He asked, walking up to stand in front of me. For a man so tall, his height was comforting in a friendly giant way rather than intimidating. “Yeah, that’s me,” You chuckled, scratching the back of your neck. “I’m Namjoon,” He said, shaking my hand. “Nice to meet you, Namjoon,” You smiled, thinking that his hands were calloused from the work he did, but they were also a tough sort of soft.

“Okay, so the plan is to tow your car back to my shop, see what’s up with it, then get you back on the road,” Namjoon explained, smile never slipping off of his face.

“Sounds good, Namjoon,” You smiled back.

Namjoon hooked up your car to the truck as you sat in the front passenger's seat, watching him do his work smoothly, like a true professional. Once Namjoon was done, he got back in the truck, “Ready?” He asked. “Ready!” You firmly nodded. “Let’s go then” Namjoon grinned.

The drive was smooth and somewhat quiet. The two of you talked here and there. About where you were going, your profession, his profession. Just very basic small talk. Before you knew it, you were in the quaint tiny village of Bangtan. Everything was spotless. The streets were free of litter, murals were painted on store walls, people were chatting friendly on the sidewalk. It was an enormous difference from the dirty, tagged, unfriendly streets of the city. It was a pleasant sight to see, a soul-cleansing image.

Soon, Namjoon had your car in the shop and was inspecting it in no time. Already getting down to the problem while you waited anxiously waited for a verdict. “Well, I have good news and bad news,” Namjoon sighed, wiping off his dirtied hands on a hand towel. “Tell me the bad news first,” You said, grimly expecting the worst. “Okay, so, it’s a problem with your engine that will take at least a week to fix minimum.” He sighed, a sad smile on his face. You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “But the good news is! You’re in Bangtan!” He said, giving you jazz hands.

“What do you mean?” You asked, raising your eyebrows.

“Everyone here is friendly, and I know you don’t exactly have a place to go, but I’m sure someone would be willing to house you” He shrugged.

“Namjoon, I don’t have the money to pay a rent.” You sighed.

“Then you can stay here! Free of charge! Consider it a few add on to me fixing your car,” He smiled.

You felt a little better at that. You would have a place to stay, and it wouldn’t cost you a thing. Thinking about how much money was in your savings account, you felt like angels were singing at Namjoon’s suggestion. “Really?” You asked, eyes lit up in hope. “Of course. I’m not going to kick you out on the street,” He chuckled, giving you that same adorable dimpled smile. “Thank you so much, Namjoon. I’ll make it up to you!” You grinned, bouncing in excitement. “No need, I’m just glad to help.”

Namjoon lived on the second floor of his shop. It was a small apartment, an open living room-kitchen plan with amazing natural light. His apartment was full of plants. Flowers, mini trees, elephant leaves. He even had a beautiful bonsai that obviously got a lot of care. “Your place is nice.” You complimented genuinely, smiling at the little things spread around the room. He had a Ryan cushion on his couch, a bookshelf full of classics, and solar powered toys in the window. The ones that bobble back and forth. “Thank you,” Namjoon chuckled, scratching the back of his neck while the two of you took off your shoes. “It’s a bit messy, but it’s home,” He said, leading you through the apartment to his small guest bedroom.

“Here it is!” Namjoon said, leaning his head against the doorway. “Thank you again, Namjoon. I’ll be sure to be the best temporary roommate ever!” You promised. Namjoon laughed, patting you on the back with his large hand. “Just don’t murder me in my sleep and we’ll be fine,” He said, and you snorted. “Have you seen yourself? You could snap me like a twig,” You chuckled, gesturing to his sculpted arms that he no doubt got from his rigorous line of work. “I’d never,” He smirked, giving you a wink that made your heart flutter and cheeks heat up.

You nervously chuckled, looking away from him to look around the room a bit, dropping your backpack off on the bed. “I’ll let you get settled, I’ll be in the living room if you need me,” Namjoon said, giving you a little wave goodbye as he closed the door, giving you some privacy. Sighing, you flopped on the soft white bed and let out a groan at how good it felt to lie down after driving for so long. You didn’t realize just how tired you were until you drifted off to sleep, letting the sweet shackles of your subconscious lock you in a state of rest.

“So you’re telling me, that you had to write an article about animal genitalia? And ducks have corkscrew penises?” Namjoon laughed from under the car he was working on. “Yeah, and let me tell you whatever FBI agent is assigned to watching my internet history has quit by now,” You joked, laughing along with the man who has been your roommate for the past 4 days. “Wow, that sounds... interesting,” Namjoon chuckled, rolling out from under the car and sitting up straight to look at you. “Quite,” You answered back, handing him his hand towel so he could clean off his oily hands. “Hey um, I have a weird question to ask,” Namjoon said, grabbing your attention.

Quirking your head to the side, you raised your eyebrows, “What’s up? Nothing can be weirder than a duck's dick.” You giggled, earning a smile from the man in front of you. “Would you... like to go out for dinner? There’s this nice restaurant in town that I think you’d like,” You asked nervously, his pitch gradually increasing as he got more anxious. You internally giggled at the fact that he was nervous at asking you to dinner, but smiled at him nonetheless. “That sounds nice. Are we going tonight?” You inquired, leaning on the edge of your seat. “Um, we can... if you’d like too...” He shrugged, fiddling with his grease stained hand towel. “I’d love to,”

Namjoon’s smiled widened as he stood up to put away his tools. “Great! Um, we can go at 6?” He offered, and you have him a nod. “6 sounds good,” You answered, standing up to go and get ready. “I’ll be waiting.” You smiled, leaving Namjoon swooning as he gave you a look of admiration. “Yeah, yeah I’ll see you soon,” He smiled back, giving you a little wave as you walked out of his shop, running upstairs to pick out the nicest outfit you had from the limited clothes you brought with you that aren’t packed in boxes.

Soon you picked out a cute skirt and sweater, modeling them in the mirror. Once you were satisfied with the way you looked and didn’t look like you crawled right out of bed, you checked the time. 5:45. You had a bit of time left before you left, so you sat down on the couch for a bit. Once you got out there, you couldn’t help but pick up one of Namjoon’s books that were lying around to help pass the time.

The Catcher in the Rye. A classic. Everyone in their senior year of highschool has probably read this book, willingly or not. The sheer amount of angst in this book would seemingly drive reader away, but it does the opposite. “I see you’ve found one of my favorites,” Namjoon chuckled from the doorway, pulling you out of the world in the book. “I have a feeling all the books on those shelves are your favorites” You teased, closing the hard cover and placing the book down on the coffee table.

“Maybe, but I’ve been on a Pride and Prejudice kick lately,” He chuckled, looking over to the bookshelves he had in his living room. “Really? For the dramatic love story or the social critiques?” You asked, but Namjoon didn’t answer right away. He just looked deep into your eyes, something that resembled longing swirling in the brown weaves of his irises. “The love story,” He spoke softly, not daring to take his eyes off of you.

Namjoon looked at you like you were a star in the sky and he was the moon, longing to hold your light in the palms of his hands and never let go. Like he wanted to take you on his personal nature walks and talk to you about all the different flora he’s identified on the trails. Like he wanted you there, 24/7, while he worked on the cars in his garage. Working was a lot less lonely when you had someone to tell you about the anatomy of animal genitalia for an article they were writing that was totally scientific. But Namjoon knew that tomorrow he would have to deliver the news that your car was in working order again.

And then you would leave him...

“Let’s go,” Namjoon whispered, giving you his classic dimpled smile that made your heart swoon every time he flashed one at you. Nodding, you got up from the couch and followed him out the door, taking a walk through the village, waving to a few people that you’ve briefly met, and arriving at the small bistro that was situated on a street corner.

The inside of the restaurant smell heavenly and made your already empty stomach growl in anticipation. “Hungry?” Namjoon teased with a smile. “Extremely,” You dramatically sighed back, chucking along with him. “Well then, let’s eat, shall we?”

“Alright, I know you said you get your money’s worth here, Namjoon. But this sandwich is huge,” You stressed, looking at the thick one foot sub that laid ominously on the ceramic plate in front of you. “You can always save it for later,” He suggested, taking a bite into his own, 6-inch, sandwich. He groaned in delight at the taste. “I love food,” He sighed. “Well, you kinda need it to live, Joon,” You chuckled, taking a bite of your own sandwich.

Namjoon paused mid bite, looking up at you with wide eyes as you eyed the sandwich currently in your hands, trying to figure out how they made sandwiches that tasted like Gods ambrosia. “J-Joon?” He asked, and you looked up to meet his stunned expression. “Oh, sorry, was that not okay? I won’t say it again,” “N-No! I just, I liked it is all,” Namjoon interrupted, stumbling over his words while he examined the sandwich in his hands like you had been doing moments before.

You chuckled, “Well Joon, I saw that you ate my mozzarella sticks,” You playfully scolded, giving him an unimpressed face. “What? You left them in the fridge for too long,” He argued back with a smile while you took another bite of your sandwich. “Mmhmm,” You hummed, chuckling to yourself. “I um, have some good news,” Namjoon spoke up after a beat of silence.

You raised your eyebrows, signaling him to continue what he was saying. “Your car should be ready to go tomorrow,” He mumbled, and you stopped chewing. Swallowing-more like gulping-you let out a deep breath that you were unconsciously holding. “O-oh? Is that so?” You said, feeling a tad bit disappointed now that you didn’t have an excuse to stay.

Namjoon nodded, fiddling with his sandwich. “Yeah, um, I got it fixed up. All good now,” He coughed, feeling unhappy about the thought of you leaving. “That’s good... Thank you Namjoon,” You said back, truly meaning the words, but not having the excitement to put behind them.

The two of you continued to eat and chat with this air of uneasiness around you. Neither one of you talking about the possibility of you leaving tomorrow, continuing your journey and forgetting about the adventures you had here. You weren’t quite sure what you wanted to do. On one hand, you had gotten so used to Namjoon and his presence that being without him would be a hard pill to swallow. But on the other hand, you knew that moving to the city where you could get a job was the safer, and more financially wise, option for you. You were stuck between your happiness and your routine normality that you have gotten used to having.

You looked at your now fully packed backpack in contempt. The feeling of dread that you got about leaving Bangtan village only increased as the day went on and you prepared for the journey to the next city over. You didn’t want to go, but could you truly stay? What would you do? What would be your source of income? You didn’t know, and not knowing this made you feel anxious.

“Are you ready to go?” Namjoon asked you from the doorway. You looked up at him into his golden amber eyes, not saying anything just yet. You thought about the time you shared with Namjoon. The movie nights, dinners, the time in his shop. All seemingly small and domestic things you never thought about in the moment, but now that you're here getting ready to say goodbye to it all, you weren’t ready to.

But you didn’t have a choice. Namjoon wasn’t going to let you live with him forever and you didn’t know if anybody in the town needed a writer for anything, so you had to toughen up and say goodbye with tears stinging in your eyes. “Y-yeah, I guess so,” You mumbled. Namjoon nodded, walking you down to the street where your car was running and waiting.

You stood there next to Namjoon for a couple moments. Basking in the comfort of his presence as you took a deep breath and let it out with a weak sigh. “I guess this is goodbye,” You whispered, kicking stones that laid on the sidewalk. “I guess it is,” Namjoon replied, pretending to care about the dirt that forever laid in his nail beds.

Gathering up all the scattered courage you had, you took a couple steps to your car. You were about ready to opening the driver’s side door when Namjoon called out to you. “Y/n! Wait!” He yelled, as he ran down to your side, putting his hand over yours to stop you from opening the door. “I- Y-yes?” You asked, looking at his fiery, determined eyes. “Stay with me,” He begged quietly.

“What?” You gasped.

“Stay with me Y/n, here, in the village,”

“Namjoon, you know I can’t-”

“Why not? If you’re worried about finding a place to stay, we could live together. I’ll get better at cooking, I promise,” Namjoon wavered, taking your hand fully in his. “Please Y/n, I know we may not know each other that well and you had a plan to move into the city and restart your life but... Can you restart it here? With me?” He begged, confident demeanor slowly slipping away. You were stunned into silence, unable to look away from the man beside you as he gave your hand a squeeze.

“We can continue to have those movie-nights together. The ones where we watch bad horror films that you still get scared at and hide into my arms to get away from the jumpscares,” He said as the two of you chuckled in harmony. “You can teach me how to cook those amazing dishes of yours... We could even get a puppy in the future...” He whispered to you, gradually getting closer. “Please Y/n. Give me a chance to be your second chance. I promise to take care of you,”

“What about a job?” You asked,

“There’s this newspaper that the town has, or my friend Jimin knows a publisher that you can reach out to. Maybe you can follow your old dream of becoming an author,” He encouraged as he spoke softly to you. “I know this is sudden, and we don’t know each other all that well, but we can get to know each other,” He finished, eagerly awaiting your answer.

You didn’t have to think twice before nodding your head, wrapping Namjoon in a hug. “You can be my second chance,”

#namjoon #kim namjoon #rm #rap monster bts #bts namjoon #bts #bts oneshot #namjoon x reader #rm x reader

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prvtocol · 3 years ago

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why did bri transfer over to the dpt. of operational oversight and what was her father's reaction? im guessing it was seen as kind of scandalous in a way. what rumors/opinions did people have on bri for doing it and how did she react to them?

It was primarily strategic though with some personal reasons thrown in.The assumption was she would work under her uncle and eventually take his mantel as Arasaka London’s Director of Finance, or at least remain under his wing in some privileged position. Her cousin also hold positions in that department, so it seems appropriate she, a Landry, would too.

Strategically, however, she has her eyes set on becoming a COO. Being stuck in the finance dept limits her interactions across the corp’s many sectors. A more managerial position would increase her chances of moving up and out.

Personally also, Brianne prefers management of people over numbers. Her dual MBA in Finance and Strategic Management already suggested this. One to appease her father, one to appease herself.

Switching departments did mean less protection, an increase in competition, doing it on her own, etc. It was a big step, something her father did not initially approve of when she brought him the request to transfer. Many assumed there was an internal family rift that led the daughter astray, or some sort of hierarchically challenge with her cousin that pushed her aside. All just speculations.

It was also less damaging to her reputation when the current director of Operational Oversight was a family friend and mentor. So she was not stepping into an unfriendly dept and already had some privilege of connection. Lastly, it was Bri trying to dictate her own path, not wanting to be stuck in her father’s shadow. She also wanted to eventually leave London, experience life abroad, while giving herself a challenge of (sorta) doing it on her own.

#dullahaunt #(( thank you for indulging me with your wonderful questions 😭#nothing scandalous about it tho #bri just wanted to change it up ))#( hc ) .#( answers ) .#v ( cyberpunk 2077 ) .

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kataskopeia · 3 years ago

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——— character question sheet

▌name: nicolas “beck” beckett. ▌single or taken: single. ▌abilities or powers: he can do a backflip (might feel nauseous after, though :J), exceptional memory/memorizing ability. ▌eye colour: grey ▌hair colour: grey-brown ▌family members: he’s got a cousin who works in law enforcement. ▌pets: he’d get a lizard but he hates the idea of sb visiting his home to feed it while he’s away for longer durations so none. ▌something they don’t like: most other intelligence agents. ):< just a pain to deal with. ▌hobbies/activities: spreading conspiracy theories :D, taekwondo, ‘lil bit of IT stuff. ▌ever hurt anyone before: for sure. ▌ever killed anyone before: yes, for work. ▌animal that represents them: falcon. ▌worst habits: smoking, irregular sleep schedule, lying about insignificant things, microwave meals. ▌role models: none, really. though there may be 1-2 ppl he finds sorta cool. no one he’d try to emulate. ▌sexual orientation: bi ▌thoughts on marriage/kids: uninterested. marriage is a rip-off. ▌fears: handling knives, syringes/injections. ▌style preferences: casual, business casual, streetwear. places significant value on high quality materials. ▌someone they love: his job! :D ▌approach to friendships: mostly ‘befriends’ people for work purposes. won’t usually approach people who are already aware of him. takes a long time to warm up to you but isn’t necessarily unfriendly before that. ▌thoughts on pie: they’re fine. he favors sweet pies! ▌favourite drink: most dry cocktails. he also likes cold, bottled green tea. ▌favourite place to spend time at: empty/unbusy lounges (hotels, airport, clubs, etc.) ▌swim in the lake or in the ocean: ocean ▌their type: self-sufficient, clever, observant & maybe kinda caring? (but he’s in denial about that bit). ▌camping or indoors: indoors bc it’s more comfy.

#✦ CHR. INFO.

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dovewingz · 4 years ago

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talk about ur ocs <3 & if they have any; what are their theme songs, zodiacs and erm opinions on each other

*kisses u* /p

i do actually have an oc blog but *pushes that away* im waiting til i actually start working on the story to use that more. anyway ill talk a bit abt the main trio of friends >:)c

shadowpaw, doepaw and beechpaw are all best friends and i love them very much <3 <3 doe + beech are siblings, beech + shadow are a little bit....... y’know 😏, doe + shadow are just friends im still fleshing their individual dynamic out

they all have playlists (here) which sort of have no context spoilers for the whole story but OH WELL. i could figure out their actual zodiacs by working out when exactly they were born but uhhhh i dont rlly believe in astrology so i’ll just put their personalities below. if any astrology bitches (endearing) see this and want to assign them zodiacs from those go wild

anyway im gonna keep going heres more info on their individual relationships :3c

doepaw + beechpaw: very close but tbh the only reason they hang out together is because their friends happen to the same lmao. their parents are Highly respected so they sorta feel the weight of the world on their shoulders. they deal with this in very different ways. doe overthinks her every choice, fearing that one wrong move will result in the whole world turning against her. beech “lashes out” in a sense, where he breaks the rules and ignores all the hard expectations on him, he doesnt let himself get trapped in the present for too long! this leads to Shenanigans

doepaw + shadowpaw: these two are still getting developed... but doe rlly appreciates shadow because hes one of the only cats who sees her for HER rather than as an extension of her parents. hes initially not very friendly to her bc of his own family issues but as he gets to know her, he learns to trust & rely on her :] she has a v nurturing spirit and shadow tends to soften when hes with her

shadowpaw + beechpaw: simply best friends™ but, like, that doesnt quite Feel Right??? neither of them can describe it so they just dont! unspoken feelings bless!! it took a long time for shadow to warm up to beech but beech just kept trying to befriend him (think this post) and eventually they became inseparable! they both constantly find ways to break the rules + are pure chaos together. shadow uhhhhh he can be a bit codependent and beech pretty much always wants to spend time with someone and talk and Do Things so their dynamic works pretty well........... for now

all together they are the literal embodiment of those t-shirts....... “i get us into trouble” “i somehow make it worse” “i get us out of trouble”

personalities

shadowpaw [+] loyal, protective, committed, retentive, hardworking [=] blunt, bold, stubborn [-] impulsive, defensive, antagonistic, unfriendly, avoidant

doepaw [+] compassionate, empathetic, attentive, responsible, polite [=] quiet, careful, obedient [-] perfectionistic, non-confrontational, indecisive, self-doubtful,

beechpaw [+] optimistic, friendly, hopeful, nonconformist, devoted [=] forward-thinking, energetic, forgiving [-] impulsive, facetious, restless, disorderly, dependant (gets bored easy, relies on constant attention/stimulation)

#i gotta admit there are some red flags that beechshadow in particular ignore... i wonder if theyll come up later in the story 😏#ask #lovewing3 #my ocs

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veiledfox · 3 years ago

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The Kitsune Shrine, Tori Gate, and Household (Sorta)

This is a big post, cause a lot of screenshots, and I’m going to kinda walk through the whole of it to explain things. All of it’s going to be under a read more post, but that’s more just to keep the dash a little cleaner for everyone.

Since this is all in Minecraft, this is more to just give a general visual of what the place would be like. Things to keep in mind is that, unlike in the images below, the lake which holds the Tori is much bigger, mostly rounded, and takes up the majority of the space of the clearing where the Shrine and the Kitsune Home is. If on a map, the shrine is on the southern end of the lake, and the house is on the south-eastern bank of it.

To start with, the land which Kyuushi’s family owns is found amid a large, forested area, where the trees are mixtures of Japanese Cedar Trees, Bamboo, and closer to the Shrine itself are some scattered Sakura trees. The Sakura trees being mostly around the lake which holds the Tori Gate. The first sign that you’re nearing their land is that you start finding bamboo scattered around among the forest, and a rise onto a large hill sometime after. The Bamboo grows denser the closer you get to the shrine proper.

Around the land is a barrier, one which isn’t designed to keep things out completely, anything can pass right through it. The Barrier is designed instead to confuse those passing through it, and to deter them or lead them away from the Shrine. Animals can pass through with little or no issue more due to their natural instincts, and their higher senses. Humans and other sentient beings like Demons, Yokai, or creatures like Dragons, Wyverns, Minotaurs, etc, will be more effected by the barrier, to varying degrees.

The land of the Shrine is meant to be a safe place, mainly for the Kitsune family who has lived there for millennia. Though if people manage to find their way to the shrine, they will be welcome to stay for a short time, given they aren’t hostile. Any hostility will be met with full force, not only of the Kitsune’s living there at the time, but by the spirit of the Ancient Kitsune herself, and all her wrath.

For those who aren’t hostile, however, this will be what they see when first passing through the forest surrounding the Shrine, and out from the thicker Bamboo which acts as a natural barrier:

The Pagoda is a place to stop and rest, to set up smaller, temporary shrines to those who have passed, to hold gatherings with visitors, or for visitors to use as a place to rest for a night or two. It has a sliding door on both the front, and back of it, but they are usually open unless being used for shelter at night. Beyond the Pagoda, after passing through it, will be the sight of the Shrine to the Ancient Kitsune herself.

The Pagoda, like all constructions within this land, has many lanterns filled with ethereal flames which light it eternally, and ward off unfriendly spirits, as these flames are fragments of the Ancient Kitsune’s soul. These will brighten, and the fires within will seep out of the small gaps in the lanterns when the spirit is angered by hostile entities that dare tread upon the land. They also naturally dim at night, allowing easier rest for those who reside here.

I did my best to try and recreate the shrine designs from Ghost of Tsushima here, which has been praised for it’s visual accuracy of Tsushima itself. A stone altar around wooden Shrine with a sand center to allow more comfortable kneeling during prayer. The Shrine sits at the inner most point of the large hill that the whole site sits atop, overlooking the descent into the hill’s center where the lake fills, and the Tori Gate sits at it’s center.

The Tori Gate itself is large, made with pale, ashen colored wood unlike the red of most others. It sits in the very center of the large lake that fills an almost crater-like space in the center of the massive hill where this site is located. There is no walkway to reach it, and use of a boat will not allow travel through it. Kitsune’s are able to “walk upon the water” through use of one of their base magicks, condensing their magic energies beneath their feet to provide unseen platforms where they can walk. If strong enough, they can provide enough unseen footing for two others to walk by their side with them.

The Tori itself, as stated, is found at the center of the lake, with the Kitsune’s Home sitting on the south-eastern bank atop a beach-like portion of the lake’s shore. The lake does have a river feeding water into it from a nearby mountain, and a river which flows out from it, and towards the sea. The waters of the lake itself are clean, pure waters after passing through the barrier that surrounds the land. Many different kinds of aquatic life calling the deep lake their home, birds frequently bathing in it, and animals of the forest drinking from it often.

The home itself is extremely old fashioned, having been built long, long ago. It is kept in good condition thanks to charms and enchantments that have been placed upon it, allowing it to last as long as the family has. It’s rather small, but considering the family itself has remained relatively minimal in number, it works plenty enough.

Past the first doors is a small foyer, where outter-wear like shoes, sandals, and coats are normally kept. There’s not much in minecraft I could use to represent it, but there is a cabinet in both the farthest corners from the entrance, to the left and right of the door that leads into the rest of the home. The left side contains cooking supplies, as most all meals that require cooking are done over fires on the beach itself. The right side contains dinning implements, plates, bowls, utensils, cups, etc.

Past the second door within the home, the first sight anyone will come upon is the main room. A large, U-shape room with shelving covered with items of all kinds, souvenirs and treasures from the travels that the head of the Kitsune family has been on through the Gate. A small lectern holding many books, with an inkwell and brush atop it, is where the Kitsune head will write down their experiences, and their learnings, from the realms they’ve been to.

There are countless books that sit under the shelving right beside the lectern that are filled with notes taken by prior heads of the Kitsune family. However, the shelves will only hold the items brought to it by the current head. Those that belonged to the ones who have passed on, are buried with them, to keep from cluttering the room too much, and clear it for the next in line.

Seen below are the two sides of this central room, which lead to the two bedrooms of the home on each side, with windows that look out to the Tori Gate itself.

Between the Home, and the Shrine up the hill, there’s a small area that leads down beneath the land itself, into a cavernous area. This is area is one that came to mind while I was trying to create a representation of the Shrine within the game, and the idea around it is still fairly new, but I’m considering this now a canon thing.

Past this small opening is a large staircase which descends into the earth, traveling down into an open cavern where, eventually, one may find the grave of the Ancient Kitsune, and those of the deceased descendants around her. Visitors aren’t allowed to traverse this area, and any action to do so will be seen as hostility, unless they are accompanied by a Kitsune from the family.

I’ve yet to really flesh out this underground area in the game, I’m going to use it as a sort of storage and base for storing resources, doing crafting and such, and expanding it out into the various different automated farms for things like food and other materials. As well as a place to descend from, leading down to a mining area to get resources from deep underground through.

Essentially, this form of descent seen in the images is continued on deep into the earth beneath, and at the very bottom lies the grave of the Ancient Kitsune. Her descendants are buried around her, within the walls, going up one level per generation.

#The Kitsune {Kyuushi}#a rough visual of the Shrine the Tori and the Home #Truths Among Myths {Headcanons}

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hahanoiwont · 4 years ago

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1. Whither then au, what are frisk’s thoughts about the gasters in each universe? Would the Gasters become father figure or crazy brother figure to Frisk? 2. What the Frisk’s thoughts on G sans? Would Frisk get along with G sans? 3. Which of the skeleton brothers good and evil are the most overprotective of Frisk? I

Alright alright! I am happy to answer these. Thank you :D

1. Frisk and each AU Gaster?

Okay first of all if Gaster were to be a major character, I’d pretty much have to involve a handplates AU, right? Handplates is the AU where both Sans and Papyrus were the results of an ethically dubious Gaster’s experimentation. So maybe, before Frisk is much aware of him as a person, they’re in a Handplates-type experiment AU. They get a vague impression that there is Someone who hangs over their brothers’ heads, but who or why, they don’t know. Maybe the bros take this somewhat-mysterious, traumatized child and figure Gaster might have been involved somehow? I think that would be fun and interesting.

But, Frisk won’t put that together until far in the future, so when they first meet a Gaster, it’s maybe Underswap? I want a goop-dad!Gaster. Like, kinda silly, mostly ridiculous guy. so Frisk gets to really know him as a total nonthreat, and then the more they meet him in other AUs, the more they come to appreciate him as a person--some Gasters are awkward but fun, some are friendly, some have no interest in Frisk, some are best avoided bc they're kinda evil. Eventually, they kinda figure out that he was probably pretty messed up in the handplates AU, and likely to have been the cause of their brothers' misery.

I think Frisk would consider Gaster an inconsistent friend--when he's nice, they like to hang out with him, and other times he's distant or unfriendly (read: extremely dangerous), so they give him space. They don't really hold evil Gasters against neutral/good Gasters, but they don't let their friendship with him cloud their judgement much, either.

2. Frisk and G!Sans?

Well, I think we've gotta look at G Sans's backstory here--iirc he's from an AU call EchoTale, where the world fractures, Sans and Gaster get merged into one person, and he has to run around with his verse's Frisk to fix things. In the end, he can't exist in that universe once things are put back to normal, since his component parts will be split again; so Frisk wills him into the next universe over, where he continues to explore and adventure. That puts him on the Surface, which is pretty much unreachable at this point of the fic. No good. So! Let's throw all of that out, and say Sans and Gaster just merged in a science accident in place of Gaster's fall. Still G!Sans, but with the backstory issues just sorta waved off to the side.

At first, Frisk would not like him at all. Like, sure, they have a sort of baseline affection for most monsters and for the skelebros in particular; but if they haven't met Gaster before, then they're likely to just pick up that something is wrong with Sans and feel uncomfortable. Doesn't look right, doesn't act right, goes by a different name--he'd probably get similar treatment to Blue, where they avoid him and watch him carefully when he is around, because he's an unknown factor and they don't like it.

It's probably gonna be something innocuous that relaxes them--maybe they catch him snoozing at one of his jobs, and it turns out he's not so scary when he's sleeping. He's napping in the same place many Sanses have napped before, maybe in the same position and with the same little z's floating off of him, and so they figure he must be Sans. He's just a weird, tall Sans. From G's perspective, they just turn on a dime one day and decide to befriend the hell out of him. They've had a Sans deficit and they're gonna make up for lost time.

I'm gonna say Frisk never does learn why G is weird, and never meets another Sans like him, but eventually it doesn't much matter to them. He seems older and maybe calmer in this universe, even though Sans is often apathetic to the point that you'd think he couldn't get any calmer. He's a different type of calm. They like him. It's like meeting a new person who they actually, really haven't met before, and it's nice.

3. Who's the most protective over Frisk?

hmm. I think in some ways, it depends on...what kind of protection, I guess?

Like, if we're talking physical threats, violence etc., then everyone not from a 'fell verse is out of the running. They don't have the same expectation of violence, therefore, they're less defensive against it. But, say, protective against harsh consequences of their own mistakes? Red. Protective against people hurting their feelings? Probably Shy. They're his protege and he can't have people bullying them. Protective in the sense of not wanting them to be in hard situations and have to make hard choices? Black, with Cozy as a runner-up.

As far as physically, like, being willing and able to kill someone in their defense, I'm gonna say Fell by a broad margin. He's the one who started giving them like. magic assault rifles. and he risked his job and his life by deciding not to kill them, so he's very aware that people have motive, as well as being used to the idea that he personally has to protect his family from Everything. He's trying real hard not to kill anyone these days, but he has a much lower threshold of nonsense tolerated before he stabs someone in the mouth.

If I'm gonna try to do a lineup, maybe Fell>Red>Shy>Black and Cozy>Blue>Slim? Sanses tend more towards the overprotectiveness, but Fell's pretty much got everyone beat.

#bluerose2017 #whither then fic #writing tag #black and slim are p low on the list for fell verse ppl #but they also try not to be controlling #so they're much more likely to wait and see if frisk comes to them for help #and then beat someone to the ground #whereas say cozy would loom at someone menacingly w little provocation #but be reluctant to actually start something #shy is an interesting case and we'll see more about him later #but. as a summary i think that's a decent estimation

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suis0u · 4 years ago

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It might be very perosnal to ask this and rude perhaps but why do like this falling falling stars ff? I have tried to read it because of you and found it sorta disturbing.

Uff, okay. I have this ask for few days already and.. try to answer it. I can understand that it’s maybe not a easy story to read for some people, because of the topics. There is a lot of heavy stuff. But it also is because of some of those topics, that I like to read it. It connects with some of my own problems/disorders and experiences and makes it easy for me to connect with the characters and enjoy the whole hurt/comfort content I always love to read by @not-poignant. And when I can identify myself with characters in some way, I always do enjoy stories so much more. Even when the topics are difficult, heavy or somehow disturbing for some people. I don’t want to say it’s more comfortable for me to read, but it some way it just is.. and I do enjoy it more than some fluffy story where everything is alright, everyones happy and having a good time etc. Because that’s just.. not my thing. I’m not that kind of person to believe in happiness all around. I don’t have that kind of mindset even when I do enjoy happy ends and all of that.

With FFS especially.. and now this will be far more personal. I don’t now how far you’ve read... but Efnisien is a character I easily could connect to as I started reading. Not because of the things he has done and that happend to him, but more in the way he acts around other people, because of some of his disorders and how he just is. I do have a eating disorder myself, even when it’s different. I do know how it is to have intrusive thoughts, even when mine are not about hurting other people or animals and more on the hurting myself-side. He is also asexual with no experiences in sex, like myself. He reacts strongly to little touches/gestures, thinks too much and obessivily and that are all points I can completely understand myself because I know it from myself in some ways. Even small things like what he’s doing with his hands in difficult or more intense conversations or the way he reacts and all, I can empathy because I’m not that different. I’m just not that rude even when I was told I totally can be a little bitch from time to time.I tend to be snippy and unfriendly sometimes, when I’m uncomfortable.. and also have no filter most times when I get asked stuff and answer it with more personal information as I will be comfortable with later when I have time to think about everything again and again and again. Another slight similarity. With Arden it is a bit different. I do know what it’s like to be the victim of sexuel harrassment and assault ( and I don’t hate Efnisien because he has done it in the past) and it was hard for me to imagine what was done to him in his past but my own experiences helped me to get a rough ‘feeling’ and even when that made me uncomfortable while reading it helped me the same time to see how Arden managed to become who he is now. Even with all that stuff in his past. I don’t know if that makes sense. Arden is also a person I find very fascinating in all the things he does and with all the passion and energy he has, how open minded he is. He still has his flaws, but even those..I love to read about him. Especially how he handle other people, Efnisien especially but still so tiny details.. like he trained his dog with the thoughts in mind, that there are people who are afraid of dogs and such. I live in a big city with a lot of dogs and I can tell you - with my own very anxious dog - it’s not funny how many aggressive and untrained dogs are walking around here without a leash.. and who don’t really listen to their owners. Or the owners themselves are just assholes and doing nothing while their dogs trying to harassing my dog etc.. Arden is for me like a warm sunshine in winter, a person who can makes you feel comfortable and kind of.. home and save in their presence... and I know that may sound sappy. I also like the power dynamic alot between him and Efnsien and the BDSM part that was shown so far. I’m not part of BDSM community, even when I’m very curious about it because I like the concept behind some of it a lot and it’s appealing. It’s also another reason besides many why I love to read story by not-poignant. But especially what i’ve read in FFS so far I like a lot. When I would be on the receiving end of Arden proposing that kind of relationship to me like he talked about in chapter 18, I would defintely say yes after I freaked out about it internally. Because tbh, I was never much interested in relationships yet, but that just sounds perfect for me so far, ha. I’m sure I already wrote more than necessary and I’m not sure if this will help you to understand why I love that story. But you don’t find so many good written stories where a previous ‘bad person’ get the chance to reform himself, to get help and be able to live a better life and overcome his own past. Especially when that ‘bad person’ is actually a victim too, through the influences of others. It may be just my opinion and I know not everybody sees it that way, but I don’t believe that people are born bad or evil. Everyone have the potentiel to be bad, evil or whatever. We’re humans after all. But I think what's actually the reason to let a person tip to the ‘bad’ or ‘good’ side (or stay in the gray middle) are all the influences around us: Family, society, school, the medien.. all of that stuff. And how yourself understand it, handle it and process all that influence and information may be also a question of intelligence (and human intellect but that also can be influenced) but mostly is a question of how you were raised. And I think there are people who done bad things, yes and still deserve a second chance. Not everyone, but those who want to be better and change themselves. Simlar like what Arden said himself to Efnisien. Okay, I will stop now because I really have written too much already (and I’m acually on work-time and should do what I’m supposed to do.) (I also need to add, as another reason why I love that story - it’s just so enjoyable to read when you know/noticed while reading that the author has done their research and know what their writing about, especially when the topics are diffcult like traumas or disorders and yes, even bdsm.)

#ask #anon #very personal stuff which I hopefully won't regret too much later #sorry when there are too many writing mistakes #believe me #i could have write soooo much more #just now I've got many more things in mind I could add

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stingray-stories · 3 years ago

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Day 2 1/2 (sorta??) June 29, 2021

Suddenly I was awake (Office quote…if you know you know). It was 3 AM and as we say in my family I GOTSTA PEE! So I get up, eyes crusty and barely open, grab my headlamp, and head to the potty (which, mind you, is a decent distance away). This was my first night on the atoll and I had heard the crabs liked to party in the evenings, but I was not prepared (especially in the wee hours of the night) to be dodging my crazy ass crab neighbors all the way to the bathroom. During the day, I’ll pass a crab and naturally say hello, how are you?, how’s the family?, or damn your claws are looking good today. You know, just being neighborly. But in the dead of night! All niceties go out the window. So, I’m dodging crabs left and right trying to not step on anything and they are just staring at me. Judging me. Like dude come on I complimented your exoskeleton yesterday cut me some slack. Anywayyyy, here I am tip toeing my way thinking the crabs are all I got to worry about when I start noticing some long legged creatures. Now I know what you’re thinking, it was not Patrick Star in high heels although I wish it was. It was kane spiders. Now if you look up these creepy crawlies (scaredy cats beware) you will see how unfriendly they look, but apparently they are quite harmless and don’t really have any human cravings (lucky for me). So I eventually made it to the bathroom, but not without a huge amount of ninja-like effort. (I’m pretty sure I got about 2,000 carefully thought out steps as a result). Well that’s all for my short story. The rays are out and I have to say hello!

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hysterialevi · 4 years ago

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His Name Was Isaac - Ch. 9

Fanfic summary: During a mission to avenge his mother’s death, Isaac hunts down the men responsible for her murder and kills them off one-by-one, only to discover that his last target is taking refuge among the Van der Linde gang. In an attempt to kill them, Isaac attacks the gang and unknowingly becomes enemies with his own father, who is in the process of fighting his own battle for redemption.

Point of view: third-person

Previous chapter | Next chapter

This story is also on AO3

A WHILE LATER

UPPER MONTANA RIVER

Trudging through the dry, golden fields of the Great Plains, Arthur tiredly dragged himself across the state as a lonely wind breezed past him, filling the emptiness with a peaceful silence and the soft rustling of weeds.

There was no one else around at the moment. No civilization, no bandits, no camps -- nothing. All Arthur could see right now was the wide, open sky stretching out for miles above him, and a collection of white clouds blanketing its vast space.

It had been a while now since the Van der Linde gang stopped chasing Arthur, and for about an hour, he had been wandering alone, searching the land thoroughly for Isaac.

He didn’t know if the boy made it out alive, or if he was even still in the vicinity, but Arthur couldn’t deny that he felt like he had failed Isaac by not convincing him to spare Mackintosh.

That poor kid was hurting on the inside. Arthur could see it clear as day. Despite the shield he held in front of himself, and the distrustful nature he carried, it was no secret to the man that his son never quite recovered from Eliza’s murder. And now, they were all paying the price.

Arthur just didn’t know how he’d pull Isaac away from the edge. He wasn’t exactly one to talk when it came to berating others for doing wrong, but it was clear to him now that the boy had no interest in showing the Van der Lindes any mercy.

If Dutch came after them -- and Arthur knew he would -- Isaac would kill them all, or die trying.

He couldn’t let that happen, though. Death was no longer an option. That boy was the only real family Arthur had left. If anything were to happen to him, he didn’t know what he’d do.

And he wasn’t willing to find out.

Following Isaac’s tracks to the north, Arthur used the trail of flattened grass and tiny blood splatters to guide him, leading him to come upon the Upper Montana River.

There, he spotted a dark brown Thoroughbred standing next to what looked like an abandoned cabin, as well as a bloody handprint on the door.

He assumed Isaac had taken refuge in the decrepit building and decided to approach it, taking out his gun just in case the man wasn’t alone.

Creeping up to the front door, Arthur steadily made his way to the dilapidated porch and glanced through the shattered windows, seeing nothing but cobwebs and specks of dust floating in the air.

It reminded him of the cabin back at Aurora’s Basin. It had the same isolated mood to it that made you feel separated from the troubles of civilization, and if Arthur squinted hard enough, he could’ve sworn he saw Dutch sitting in his rocking chair, observing the outside as always.

Placing a light hand on the doorknob, Arthur cocked his gun and slowly pulled the thing open, bracing himself for the worst.

So far, nothing in the house had moved yet, and the only sound he could hear was the creaking of old wood, but if anything unfriendly revealed itself on the inside, the last thing Arthur wanted to do was start another gunfight while he already had a gang hunting him down.

There were Pinkertons still roaming in the area, after all, and Arthur had no doubts that one more shootout was all they needed before they’d be able to track the Van der Lindes down.

He’d have to be extra cautious from here on out. Not just for Isaac’s sake, but also for his.

Stepping into the cold shadows of the cabin, Arthur had barely walked through the door before he heard a man’s voice threatening him to lower his weapon, leading him to bring his attention to the other end of the hall.

“...Don’t move.” The man ordered, sitting on the floor. “Or I’ll shoot your goddamn brains out...!”

It was Isaac, thank God.

“Whoa, easy there,” Arthur said, raising his hands. “It’s just me.”

Isaac relaxed upon seeing Arthur’s face, putting his pistol down as he clutched his wounded ear.

“Dad?” He replied, his voice strained due to the injury. “Sorry. It’s just... I didn’t expect you to actually come. Wasn’t sure if you’d follow me after everything that went down with Dutch, but... I’m glad you’re here. Were you followed?”

Arthur gazed over his shoulder, shrugging. “I don’t think so. I doubt the Van der Lindes would chase me this far out into the country. Not when the majority of their supplies have been destroyed.”

Isaac furrowed his brow in concern. “...And what about when they restock?”

The older man holstered his gun and approached the boy, letting out a worried sigh. “...We’ll just have to wait and see.”

Arthur crouched in front of Isaac, eyeballing his bloody hand. “You feelin’ alright, son? How’s that ear doing?”

The boy hissed in pain. “It’s ringin’ like hell and the bleeding hasn’t slowed down that much, but... I’ll live.”

The older man leaned in closer. “Well, at least lemme take a gander.”

Uncovering his ear, Isaac lowered his arm as Arthur observed the fresh bullet-wound and narrowed his eyes, trying to examine it through the darkness.

“Yep... bullet nicked the edge of your ear pretty good,” he noted. “It’s gonna look like Swiss cheese from here on out, I’m afraid. Luckily, though... I don’t think it hit anything too important. Your hearing should be fine, if a tad unbalanced. Just make sure it don’t get infected.”

That seemed to relieve the boy. “...I will. Thanks.”

Taking a seat next to Isaac, Arthur leaned back against the wall and let out a deep breath, admittedly drained from everything that had occurred so far. He was still having trouble wrapping his head around the fact that he and Dutch were officially enemies now, and on top of all that, he couldn’t quite process that Isaac was really alive either.

Arthur had spent so long having nightmares about seeing those two graves and wondering if he could’ve done anything to save them, but now, after all these years, he was finally sitting side-by-side with his very own son, spending time together like the family they were meant to be.

The outlaw chuckled quietly at the thought, staring aimlessly at the ceiling.

“...You still look the same. Y’know that?”

Isaac returned the sentiment, cracking a small smile. “So do you.”

Arthur grinned and removed his hat, wiping some sweat off his brow. “Good thing, too. Otherwise, I’m not sure we’d have recognized each other back there.”

He put his hat back on, giving Isaac an uneasy look.

“You, um... feelin’ okay after all that? After killing Mackintosh, I mean. I know you ain’t no stranger to this sorta thing, but... still. I worry.”

Isaac sighed in an unsatisfied manner, clearly conflicted about the situation.

“I... don’t know how to feel.” He answered simply. “I mean, I’m glad Shay and his men are finally dead, but... I just feel like there’s somethin’ missing.”

Arthur nodded in understanding. “You thought killing Shay would provide a sense of peace. Or justice. You believed that everything would go back to normal once he died, but instead, you just feel empty. That sound about right?”

Isaac fell silent, unsure of how to express his thoughts. “I guess. I just... I didn’t expect him to go so willingly. Eli and the others, they all tried to convince me to spare ‘em. But Shay... he didn’t even fight back in the end. Didn’t argue. Just sat there, and let me...” his eyes fell to the floor, “...let me slit his throat.”

Arthur attempted to offer some perspective. “You ain’t the only one who’s had time to think about Eliza’s death, Isaac. I dunno how Shay was before, but despite how angry I was back there, I can’t deny the man sounded sincere when he said he regretted it. Seems like we all make choices that chain us to our past.”

That piqued the boy’s interest. “What about you, Dad? You ever do somethin’ you didn’t like? Something that... really affected you?”

The other man lowered his head in shame, unable to deny the truth. “Oh... I’ve done many bad things, Isaac. Sometimes they were for the good of the gang, sometimes I was just downright rotten. I don’t wanna fill your head with all that, but... just remember, I’ve seen some pretty terrible stuff during my time as an outlaw. Met some terrible people. And a lot of them started out as decent folk who lost themselves to revenge.”

Isaac quirked a brow. “...Like who?”

Arthur paused at that, still somewhat reluctant to accept his “father’s” true nature. “...Like Dutch.”

The boy’s curiosity grew. “Who is Dutch to you, anyways? Everyone I’ve talked to so far has said that he’s out of his mind, but... you’re tellin’ me you stuck with him for thirty years. There’s gotta be more to him than that.”

“Oh, believe me. There is. In fact, Dutch is probably the most complicated man I’ve ever met. In the beginning, he was like a father to me. Took me in when I was just a boy and taught me to read. Taught me how to fight, too. Hell, pretty much everything I know these days came from him. He was like a mentor and a guardian, all in one.”

Isaac listened intently. “So, what happened? How’d he turn into... what he is now?”

Arthur thought back to his time in Saint Denis, recalling all the moments where Dutch slowly started to lose his mind.

“Well, it didn’t happen all at once.” He explained. “It was a gradual process. Dutch was a man with a lot of responsibilities. A lot of pressure. He had to take care of the gang, think of what we’d do next, and where we’d go. It weren’t easy. Eventually though, the time came when civilization started to spread rapidly throughout the States, and the Pinkertons became more ruthless than ever. They started killin’ our men. Infiltrating our camps. Gettin’ our own people to betray us. It was a goddamned mess.”

“It certainly didn’t help matters when people outside the law started steppin’ on Dutch’s toes, too.” He continued. “There was an oilman -- Leviticus Cornwall. He was a pompous, brazen piece of work. He funded the Pinkertons. Helped them track us down. He was like a thorn in our side that would just never go away. And then, there was another feller. Angelo Bronte. Slimy, Italian bastard livin’ it up with the high society of Saint Denis. He set us up multiple times, and nearly got us killed.”

Isaac shrugged. “So... what’d you do to them?”

“I didn’t do anything. Dutch, on the other hand... shot Cornwall in broad daylight. Right in the middle of Annesburg, no less. As for Bronte, he drowned him in a swamp before throwin’ his corpse to the gators. And this was before our gang fell apart.”

The boy couldn’t deny that even he was shocked by that.

“Jesus...” he muttered. “Can’t imagine how you dealt with him for thirty years.”

Arthur scoffed in an amused tone, coughing a few times. “Neither can I.”

Deciding to change the subject, the older man pushed aside his memories for the moment and flipped the conversation over to Isaac, inquiring about his past.

“What about you, son? What was Shay like when you knew him?”

Isaac chuckled, unsure of where to even begin. “...Shay was always hard to read, back in the day. He definitely wasn’t the worst in the gang, but he weren’t no saint either. I think Eli was the only one who could really bring out his good side. The two of them were like brothers, after all, so Shay listened to him. Though, to tell you the truth, he didn’t stick around for that long. Shay left the gang when I was only... what, ten? Eleven? I don’t remember him that well, to be honest.”

“And what about the rest of his gang?” Arthur asked. “You mentioned there were other men involved?”

“Charles and Thaddeus.” Isaac confirmed. “They were there when Eliza died too. Thaddeus was... distant. A cold-hearted bastard who didn’t give a damn about anything ‘cept for money, but... he taught me everything I know. How to shoot, how to hunt, how to track. He had about as much emotion as a rock, but he had a sense of honor. Believe it or not.”

“What about Charles? What was he like?”

Isaac immediately glowered at the man’s name, crinkling his nose. “He was absolute scum. The worst of the worst. He was a creep, too. There were times when I’d wake up in the middle of the night and see him ogling me. Like a piece of meat.”

A sense of dread sparked inside Arthur. “He never... did anything to you, did he?”

The boy shook his head. “No. Thaddeus wouldn’t let him.”

Arthur sighed in relief. “Well... I suppose there’s that, at least. I’m just sorry I couldn’t find you sooner.”

“Don’t be,” Isaac reassured. “There was no way you coulda known I was still alive. Besides, you’re here now. You chose to follow me despite being affiliated with Dutch, and I won’t forget it.”

Picking up his gun, the boy stood up from the floor and took a minute to glance at the cabin around them, observing the empty space.

“Hey, Dad... d’you think we could stay here? Just for tonight? I don’t think I have the energy to set up a camp elsewhere.”

Arthur rose to his feet, patting dust off his legs. “I guess one night wouldn’t hurt. Dutch and his men are headed for Strawberry, so I doubt they’ll come sniffin’ around here. We shouldn’t stay for long, though. Never know when the law will turn up.”

A sudden thought crossed his mind, leading him to stop Isaac in his tracks.

“Hey, that reminds me. Dutch is convinced there’s a traitor in gang. He thinks that somebody helped you poison the food and also told you about the robbery. Is that true?”

Isaac nodded, slinging his rifle around his shoulder. “Yeah. One of your men approached me while I was stayin’ at the Blackwater Saloon. Offered a lot of information for some cash.”

“Who was it?”

“Micah.”

Arthur let out a disappointed breath, placing his hands on his hips. “Goddammit. That snake. So Joe was tellin’ the truth all along. I shoulda known...”

Isaac caught onto his father’s shift in mood, following suit.

“You want us to go after Micah?”

The older man rejected the suggestion. “No. He ain’t worth the trouble. Right now, I just need you to focus on stayin’ alive, and stayin’ the hell away from Dutch. If we happen to cross paths with Micah, then we’ll go from there, but I don’t want you hunting him down like you hunted Shay. Understand, Isaac?”

The young man’s expression flattened in disappointment, but he complied nonetheless.

“...I understand.”

“Good. We got each other now, so let’s not risk our lives for somethin’ we’ve already lost.” Arthur patted his shoulder in an encouraging manner, walking towards one of the bedrooms. “Anyways, that’s enough of that. Let’s make this cabin a bit more homey for the night. We’ve got a long road ahead of us.”

“Okay.” Isaac replied, his tone quieter now. Before the two of them could get to work, he said one last thing to Arthur, feeling somewhat apologetic about his actions in Tall Trees.

“...Dad?” The young man called out.

Arthur turned around, stopping just in front of the door to one of the other rooms. “Yeah?”

Isaac gazed at the floor, admittedly a tad embarrassed. “...I missed you.”

The older man smiled warmly at the comment, wanting to pull the boy into a hug right there.

“I missed you too, kiddo.” He said, wishing Eliza could’ve seen them now. “It’s good to have you back.”

#red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #isaac morgan #dutch van der linde #Micah Bell #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 oc

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dylansfm · 4 years ago

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〔 ZOEY DEUTCH, 22, CISFEMALE, ODIKINESIS 〕╰ _DYLAN O’SHEA _ just came over half - blood hill . you know , the child of ARES who was claimed 3 years ago ? i've heard chiron say that pronoun is COURAGEOUS & INDEPENDENT , but if you ask the aphrodite kids , they'd say they're COMBATIVE & SPITEFUL . i'd say they remind me of drinking whiskey, broken glass, the glow of a flame, bruised knees, split lips & basking in the feeling of victory, especially since they're AGAINST THE NEW CABINS. ( ✎ tobi , 20 , she/her , mst . )

hello everyone ! i’m tobi, 20 years old, and this intro post is really late but here it is ! i haven’t rp’ed in forever so i’m probably going to be a bit rusty, but i’m excited. you can find some quick wanted connections at the bottom of this. i’ll reblog some wc gifsets and try to write up a proper post later. if you want to plot, like this post and i’ll message you, or you can get me on discord logan lerman's side bitch#7115 !

name: dylan alexandra o’shea

nicknames: her mom calls her dyl pickle, call her that if you dare

birth date: january 2nd

gender: cis female

pronouns: she/her

ethnicity: kinda obvious i think

nationality: american

hometown: memphis, tennessee

demigod abilities: odikinesis –– the ability to arouse feelings of anger, hatred and bloodlust in others

cabin number & godly parent: cabin five, ares

edie o’shea is your average southern belle. little rich girl, ex-beauty queen, ex-cheerleader, known around the neighbourhood for her beauty and being the definition of southern hospitality. but when she was 18, she went through her rebellious, punk, 90s grunge phase ( or at least, as grungy as you can get in the deep south ). and it was during this phase that she had her fateful encounter with ares. they met at a bar –– or was it a club ? concert ? she can’t even remember anymore –– and he introduced himself, didn’t even bother to hide his name. edie assumed it was a nickname or a joke.

they had a brief, intense, torrid love affair for a few months before edie became pregnant. ares gave a quick explanation of his situation ( edie was so infuriated nothing he said even registered ) and he split, leaving edie with dylan as a goodbye gift. edie quickly went back home, got back into her parents’ good graces, and tried to forget ares and get her life back together for her little girl.

dylan’s grandparents are similar to emily and richard gilmore from gilmore girls –– they’re snobby, controlling, and a bit too invested in their granddaughter’s raising. dylan loves them both, but her complete lack of care towards social status and reputation is a constant battle.

dylan o’shea is very much the opposite of your average southern belle. seemed to have inherited both her mother and father’s wild ways, going against all of her mother’s attempts to tame her. she’s aggressive, coarse, and tactless. she’s attended and been expelled from damn near every school in the city, gotten into more fights than she can count, been arrested enough times that she knows quite a few officers by name. she’s been uncontrollable from day one, a hurricane that constantly leaves destruction in her wake.

her mother never intended to send dylan to camp half blood, she thought dylan was bound to get herself killed if she was left by herself. but dylan’s demigod ability, odikinesis, began to manifest when she turned 14. she had always had a penchant for getting into trouble, but it seemed like she was constantly being provoked into fights. her family never believed her when she said that she wasn’t doing anything, that people always came at her. they figured it was her nature, per the course as a child of the god of war.

the day things went to utter shit –– she doesn’t remember much of what happened now. it was over something stupid, a guy saying a stupid, shitty comment that shouldn’t have made her as angry as it did. next thing she remembers she’s face down on the ground, held down by 3 police officers and thrashing around like a wild animal. she’s told she beat him near to death ( or maybe –– ? she never asked, never really wanted to know ) and she lands in juvie. it was run down, under supervised and overcrowded, and her powers only grew stronger with time. a year of fighting ( both inmates and guards ), getting sent to isolation, and doing it over and over again finally broke her. abruptly, the fights stopped, and like a switch, instead of constant anger, she felt nothing at all.

her mother saw her state and knew both that something was wrong, and that she wasn’t the one who would be able to fix it. for the first time, she swallowed her pride and prayed to ares to guidance, help, anything. dylan was released soon after, something about early release for good behaviour ( ha ! ) and she immediately goes on the long drive to camp half blood. only when they get there does she learn that she was being haunted by a ker ( female spirits who personify violent death ), which was drawn to her ability and underlying power. she arrived at chb when she was 15, and has been there ever since.

some quick facts about dylan !

she has a thick southern accent and possibly the smoothest voice you’ve ever heard –– expect more than a few y’all’s here and there, though i’ll try not to be too obnoxious

she likes using nicknames –– lamb, pumpkin, june bug, the works –– just to be condescending

she’s quick to insult and even quicker to anger, but not necessarily unfriendly. she genuinely doesn’t mean any harm –– most of the time

she has a awful temper. as in, had-to-take-anger-management-classes awful. it genuinely takes a toll on her and she constantly struggles to keep her rage in check. she’s had enough years of learning that on a good day, she’s fine. on a bad day –– whew.

her inspirations incl: jessica jones ( jessica jones ), katarina stratford ( 10 things i hate about you ), reyna avila ramirez-arellano ( the heroes of olympus ), clarisse la rue ( percy jackson & the olympians )

despite how she comes across at first ( idiot jock ) she’s generally very intelligent. she especially likes history

she’s very flighty, her mind never stays on one thing and she’s constantly doing, forgetting about that, starting that, dropping that and –– you get the point. talking to her can be a bit daunting because she’s constantly changing the subject on you

the only time she’s really focused is when she mid-battle, on a quest, or thinking about strategy ( she’s a bit of a stereotype, she already knows )

from her time in juvie she’s learned quite a few –– skills. how to pick a lock and how to sneak contraband being the most relevant ( less relevant: how to turn a battery into a lighter & make booze using just bread, sugar, and fruit juice ). she’s managed to get some contacts whenever she’s permitted to leave camp for a quest, so she always has a decent supply ( weed only, she used to run with bad crowds, seen the damage the other stuff can do )

after her experience with the ker, she’s has a genuinely, almost debilitating fear of spirits and hauntings specifically. it’s a trait about herself that pisses her off to no end, and she’d die before letting anyone find out about it.

& now for the ·。ﾟ𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓷𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼 ! as i said above, i’ll write a proper post when i’m a little less tired

platonic

rivals –– friend version ! dylan is quite possibly the most competitive person on earth, it’s in her genetics. she thinks of everything as a competition and she always has to win. however, a victory is only sweet when it’s against a true adversary. she spends a lot of time with this person and she’s convinced herself that it’s so that she can eventually prove she’s their superior, but she actually just likes being around them.

( bonus points –– sparring partners no rules sorta deal, out in the woods, scratches from twigs, bloodied rocks, anything to let some of her aggression out )

opposites attract –– this person is different from her in almost every way ( grumpy, combative, wild vs friendly, sweet, caring, etc ) and by all accounts should provoke her ire and contempt. yet somehow, she instead genuinely care about this person and their wellbeing ( and it makes her sick to her stomach ).

romantic

crush –– oh it’s just so pathetic. dylan prides herself on being untouchable, with a dark black hole where her heart should be. however, this person is a very unwanted reminder that she is, in fact, a real person with emotions and feels and ugh. she’s carried a torch for this person from the day she met them, and she’s been unable to rid herself of these feelings despite her best attempts. this person definitely doesn’t know ( she tries to convince herself of this ) and she plans to ignore the nervousness, unconscious smiles and, ugh, butterflies until the day she –– dies, i guess.

antagonistic

rivals –– enemy version ! dylan is probably the most competitive person on earth, which also makes her one of the sorest losers you’ll ever meet. she hates losing, and she finds it difficult to keep that sentiment to herself. for whatever reason dylan doesn’t respect this person, and therefore can’t handle losing to them as graciously as she might otherwise. despite her temper she’s usually not the type to hold a grudge ( more the fight and forgive type ) but her hatred of this person is a giant mental block.

#˙・゜◤ 𝔻𝕐𝕃𝔸ℕ – 「 the grace of the 𝓰𝓸𝓭𝓼 comes by 𝓿𝓲𝓸𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮. 」#ambrosia:intro

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im-a-goner-foryou · 6 years ago

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Thanks for voting everyone, it was a close tie but more of you guys wanted drunk! Tony taking advantage of Peter, so here's part 1 because it got longer than i expected :') let me know if you think it's worth continuing!

Warning: implied non-con

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

The condensation sliding down his drink in rivulets is startlingly cold against his skin, pooling around the base of the glass in a small puddle; Peter wipes the wetness off his hand absent-mindedly on his sleeve, gaze still darting around the crowded hall and taking in the finely dressed occupants with furtive eyes. To say he feels uncomfortable is an understatement, being the only teenager present at one of Tony Stark's renowned parties; a fact that Peter had brought up when the invitation had been extended to him, by the host himself.

"Thank you Sir, really, but why-- why would..." Peter had asked tentatively, setting down the coffee onto his bosses' desk as requested. He didn't finish his sentence- 'why on earth would you bring me?', but Mr. Stark shot him a knowing look over the rim of the styrofoam cup anyways.

"Well, you are my intern, are you not? And this is a corporate event after all."

To which Peter had then begun to protest that he had no experience with business parties, and even if he did- this part he had mumbled quietly- he didn't own any appropriate formal attire.

"So you need a suit?" Tony said, waving his hand dismissively. "Consider that taken care of, Parker. And I'm sure you'll catch onto 'business party' etiquette fast enough, just take this as part of your training. I'll see you then?" he finished with an unmistakable air of finality, and Peter couldn't exactly disagree, could he? Especially not after a sleek parcel had been delivered right to his doorstep the very next night, containing a deep royal purple three piece suit that fit him so perfectly it was as though tailor-made.

Idly fingering the cuff now, Peter was just about to turn back to his drink when he felt more than saw someone slide smoothly into the seat beside him. Groaning inwardly, he contemplates blatantly ignoring his new company altogether; but at the sound of a cleared throat Peter grudgingly turns around-- only to be met with startling cornflower blue eyes and a warm smile.

"Hello," Stephen Strange purrs in that silky voice of his, extending a hand for him to shake; the man's skin is cool under Peter's trembling fingers. "You must be little Parker, I assume? I saw you arrive at Stark's side earlier tonight." He had not even bothered to introduce himself-- not that there was any need to, of course. Like most of the other guests present, Strange was high-profile and rightly so.

"Oh, yes. I- I'm his intern," he says lamely, feeling the tips of his ears already begin to burn red; the older man is undeniably handsome, especially dressed a million-dollar outfit, and Peter is only a hormonal teenager after all.

Tearing his eyes away from the other with much difficulty, he raises his glass to his lips again and nearly chokes on a huge gulp. Strange raises his eyebrows, surprise evident in his words of, "you're old enough to drink?"

"Oh, no Sir" --Peter swears he can see the man's eyes darken at his use of that title-- "it's just... um. Sparkling juice?" Flushing impossibly warmer and feeling for all the world like nothing more than a foolish child, he braces himself for a cruel reaction; for a patronizing sneer, a snide comment. He's surprised, to say the least, by Stephen's responding chuckle of kind amusement.

"Is that so? Well then, do let me buy you a drink, will you-- one rosé for the boy," he calls out to the bartender, turning slightly to shoot him a conspiratorial wink. "Oh, don't you worry that pretty head of yours now, it's just wine. Mild flavour, great for beginners," Strange adds, though Peter's head is buzzing too loudly to register the words after 'pretty head of yours'.

"Uh--"

He never got to finish his sentence however, for at that moment a hand falls heavily onto his shoulder, causing him to jump in surprise-- then yelp softly as the grip tightens painfully. His heart thrumming wildly in his chest, Peter whirls around to face his boss. "Oh! Hi Mr. Stark," he greets politely, nerves instantly melting away to a relaxed smile at the sight of a familiar face; then he notices that the man's dark eyes aren't looking at him, but rather fixated pointedly over his shoulder at his present company. "I, um, I was just talking to Mr. Strange here..."

"Yes, I saw," Gritting this out through clenched teeth as though it pained him to do so, Mr. Stark continues glaring coldly at the other man while almost spitting out his next words. "Buying drinks for underaged interns now, are you Stephen? My, you're sinking even lower than I've thought."

Peter catches, even through the powerful rush of blood thrumming through his ears, the distinct drawl of Tony's speech; nervous gaze flicking away from Stephen's now icy cold eyes to his boss, he comes to the realisation that the latter is drunk. Very.

"Mr. Stark..." he begins hesitantly, and that burning gaze falls on him again, the glazed-over pupils sharpening abruptly.

"We're leaving, Parker," the man very nearly snarls, giving Peter no chance to prepare himself or to respond before he's being tugged violently onto his feet by an unforgiving grasp on his arm. Stumbling a little, he begins to trail after Mr. Stark, looking back at the last minute to mumble a 'it's nice to meet you, Sir' to Strange-- who regards him coolly and with a half-smile-- Peter immediately regrets doing so however, as this seems to anger his boss even further. Face now twisting to something almost monstrous, Tony drags him across the room and past silently questioning eyes to the elevators, stabbing at the button of the control panel; the metal doors barely begin to slide open before he's being practically flung inside.

As the doors slide closed behind the man, Peter can't help but feel a foreboding sense of fear overtake his body, and for a frightening second he's reminded of a cornered prey, trapped by some dangerous animal; the look in Mr. Stark's eyes seem wild enough, glinting intimidatingly under the dim light overhead. The heavy, tense silence between them is only magnified by the confined space, and when the older man begins to speak in a disconcertingly cold voice Peter's never heard before, the boy instinctively backs away. "So, care to share about the new friend you made, Parker?" Mr. Stark mutters quietly, advancing towards him in a movement that resembles a prowl much more than it should. "You two certainly seemed... cozy enough by the bar."

"Sir, I--" Peter stutters, unable to force out the words stuck in his closed-off throat; his apprehension fully giving way to sharp and blinding fear as his boss stalks forward with every timid step he takes back, slowly yet surely crowding him up against the wall. "I don't... we were just, he just wanted to talk--"

Mr. Stark barks out a mirthless laugh, and the sound reverberates chillingly around them. "Oh, I bet he did. That bastard definitely showed interest, I'd give him that. What were you planning to do, hmm? Let him ply you over with drinks, talk you into spreading your legs for him later on in the bathroom like a cheap whore?"

"Mr. Stark!" Peter gasps, horrified; the implication of his darkly uttered words fully sink in, and mortification burns hot in his veins along with the welling tears in his eyes. "It's not like that, I swear, I- I would never do such a thing!"

"I have a hard time believing that, sweetheart," the older man snarls. Closing the space between them with two final strides, he slams his forearm against Peter's chest- punching all the breath out of him- and leans further down until their faces are mere inches apart, breaths falling harshly across his cheek. "Always knew you were a slut, Peter, the way you act around me; fucking begging for it constantly, like a horny bitch. Just never thought you'd be desperate enough to act the same around others-- but I guess any cock will do for you, won't it?"

Openly crying now, pinned helplessly underneath the stronger man, Peter can only shake his head weakly in protest; he's never seen Mr. Stark like this, refuses to believe it. "D-don't know, wh-what I, act like--" he sobs. "Please, Sir... please, you're hurting me."

His pleads have no effect; if anything, Tony seems to savour it. Other hand flying up to clutch his quivering chin roughly, his boss turns his tear-streaked face this way and that, dark eyes drinking him in; his next slurred words are as bitter as the alcohol in his breath. "You were always too innocent for your own good, Pete."

#starker #peter x tony #drabble #family unfriendly sorta #dark! tony #implied non con #part 1 #intern! peter #this was in my draft for fucking months as a half finished piece of shit #but now its a finished piece of shit #*flaps arms while crying* i dont know how to write send help

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