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do-androids-dream-ao3acc · 3 months

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chronic pain buck not telling anybody (tommy!)

This ask has been sitting in my inbox for a while, because I already had this WIP and initially wanted it to become a multi-chapter-thing. But, you know, life (and ideas)... so here's, finally, my humble offering of chronic pain Buck.

A Little Bit Off

Buck wakes up two hours before the alarm clock goes off, and he immediately knows what kind of day it's going to be.

The world is still dim, a black veil of silence covering the loft. Buck squints at the ceiling until his eyes have adjusted to the darkness. There was a dream, what was it? It’s already slipping away from him, becoming transparent like a faded piece of fabric. It was at night, in a forest, I was running away from something, constantly looking back. Tripping over a root, I fell, I fell so hard – it was just a dream, but when I hit the ground my leg exploded. It wasn't the dream that had woken him, just a nightmare like many. It was the pain. In the past, Buck would have never believed that you can feel pain in a dream, so fresh and strong as if it wasn't just a memory, but had just happened.

Now it's just a dull, throbbing pain, nothing like the tons of weight that crushed his leg back then. He has lost the actual memory of the fire truck on his leg, even though he knows exactly what happened, even though he was conscious. But those few minutes are missing from his memory, which is probably why he keeps hurting his leg in different, creative ways in his dreams. The pain, however, is real, both in his dreams and now. Not as bad as back then, no, but constant. This throbbing deep in his bones, it will stay with him all day.

Buck has consulted three different doctors, he has googled his fingers to the bone, but there is no simple solution. This pain is chronic, and it doesn't really matter whether it's a nerve malfunction or a change in the weather. It comes and goes, flares up like a bush fire: quickly, without warning. And it’s just as difficult to extinguish. Buck debates with himself whether he should get up and take a pill, but painkillers often don't help, and he still has a shift. If he's going to gamble on his luck, he'd better do it later.

All three physicians he visited are not LAFD contract doctors, for one simple reason: nobody must know about his problem. The days when he has no pain, when he can forget that he ever had it, it's easy to convince himself that it's not really a problem. It comes and goes, maybe at some point it will go forever. That’s a deceptive hope, and he knows it. But there’s a fear in Buck, deep down in his guts, that a permanent condition will destroy his career.

He sighs into the darkness only to quickly turn his head. Did he wake Tommy? No. The sight next to him fills his heart, much more than the pain fills his thoughts, at least for a moment. A few tousled curls poke out of the blanket; they'll be gone in at dawn. Tommy is lying on the very edge of the bed – it's not necessarily too small, but for two such tall men, it kind of is. He has wrapped himself completely in the duvet. It would be nice if that was the real reason Buck woke up so early, wouldn't it? The guy keeps pulling the covers off him at night. He sighs again, quieter this time.

Swinging his long legs out of bed, the treacherous mattress squeaks, and now Tommy is stirring, after all.

"Evan?"

He turns, squinting, but he can't keep his eyes open yet.

"S’it time yet?"

Tommy's sleepy voice causes a warmth to spread inside Buck, flowing through his whole body, lifting the corners of his mouth to a soft smile.

"No, babe. Go back to sleep."

Was there something in his voice? Tommy blinks again, obviously not quite convinced. He pushes a strand of hair out of his face, opening his eyes.

"Something wrong?" he asks.

How well he already knows him. Half a year of bliss, and this man notices nuances in Buck’s voice even when he’s not quite conscious.

"I'm just going for a pee," he claims.

In the bathroom, Buck leans on the sink and looks at his reflection in the mirror. It’s strange that he looks so normal. A little disheveled, a little tired, but certainly not like a man whose leg feels like it's slowly being hollowed out from the inside. Thump, thump, thump, maybe there are little miners inside him, digging for gold. Buck grins at his reflection, but a smile that doesn't reach his eyes is just creepy.

Thoughtfully, he runs his forefinger over the edge of the medicine cabinet. Should he take one now? Should he take it later? He feels like a drug addict, and that's an amazingly cold thought. Almost analytical. Because even if he only needs the pills sometimes, what if it gets worse? What if he needs them so regularly that he becomes really dependent on them?

There is a whole spiral of thoughts that have just been waiting for Buck to let them surface. What if the pain gets so bad that he starts to limp? What if he deliberately doesn't put any weight on that leg and people start questioning his movement? What if he can no longer think straight because of the pain, ending up making a mistake?

Knuckles white, he clutches the sink again, gritting his teeth until his cheeks ache. Tommy, he thinks. If it has to start somewhere with nobody noticing, then it has to start with Tommy. The thought feels right and wrong at the same time. Buck lets the toilet flush, then runs cold water over his wrists.

He returns with the vague hope that Tommy has simply fallen asleep again. Instead, the man sits upright in bed and says, "I've been thinking."

"It's like... 4:30 in the morning," Buck replies with a glance on the clock. "And you've got the whole blanket again."

Snuggling up next to him, he tugs at the comforter until Tommy finally gives up a piece of it.

"Yes, but I'm awake now," says Tommy.

"Shit, I'm sorry."

"Never mind," Tommy returns good-naturedly, "your shift starts much earlier than mine, I'm sure I can sleep a little longer."

Well, I won’t, thinks Buck, but he’s careful to not let his thoughts show. He buries his face in Tommys side, breathing in his scent. It's something he would much rather become addicted to, that peculiarly stimulating smell of sleep and masculinity.

"And what were you thinking about?" he mumbles.

"That we should move in together."

Now Buck is also wide awake, even more so than before, and for a brief moment, the pain is actually irrelevant. He sits up, looking inquisitively into Tommy's face. It's still dark in the apartment, the sunrise can only be glimpsed behind the blinds. So whatever he sees now, it may be easy to misinterpret.

In fact, Tommy's sharp features are soft in these pale surroundings. He almost appears… insecure. Buck doesn’t even know why he’s suddenly kind of shaken, after all he’s moved in with some of his partners before, and earlier, even. They've just never talked about it, maybe because it wasn't necessary, maybe because Tommy still thinks they should be taking it slow. Every time Tommy's supposed confidence crumbles when they're together, in such small, very tender moments, Buck feels like his heart is about to jump out of his chest.

"Your place or mine?" he asks, and the smile he causes on Tommy’s lips is worth it.

"Actually," Tommy returns, stroking Buck's hair, lost in thought, "I thought we'd look for something new. Together."

"It's a big deal," Buck opines.

"Right, it's probably too soon."

There’s not even a hint of disappointment in Tommy's voice, he’s far too composed for that. Buck recognizes himself so much in this answer that it hurts, in a completely different way to his leg. It's easier to withdraw than to live with the disappointment of having your wishes ignored over and over again. Tommy knows this as well as himself, but it only seems to have made him stronger, while it made Buck sadder. At least until he met Tommy. And he doesn't want him to feel like that.

"It's not," he says, leaning forward to brush Tommy's lips with his. "I'd like that."

"Really?"

"Really."

The sun rises, less outside the blinds but in Tommy's face. His kiss is unexpected and impetuous, regardless of the fact that they should both brush their teeth first. A second later, Tommy's lips graze Buck's earlobe, breathing a "This is going to be great" that sets his skin on fire. Tommy seems to sense this, he starts nibbling on the sensitive spot on Buck's neck.

"I thought you wanted to go back to sleep," Buck mumbles, but his hands are already kneading Tommy's muscular back.

"Hmm," returns Tommy, shifting to manhandle Buck on his back. "If you’re not sleeping, I’m not sleeping."

Tommy’s beautiful face above him, his hands all over his body, Buck knows that this will successfully ease his pain. For a few minutes, at least, he will no longer be able to distinguish between pain and passion. He will forget that he hurts, and it will be easy not to show.

Maybe, one day, he’ll be ready to tell Tommy about it.

#BuckTommy #Buck/Tommy #BuckTommy fanfic #tevan #tevan fic #9-1-1 fanfiction #firepilot #my fics #ficlet #mini fic

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innerpalaces · 2 months

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The Doting Love Story's Female Supporting Role Has Quit - 13

Chapter 13: Breaking Off An Engagement in Public

From the moment she stepped onto the stage, Nian Chaoxi knew that she would definitely lose this battle.

But when she really faced Yan Weixing, she realized how powerful this young man was.

This kind of power is not even reflected in his suppression of others' strength. When he stood on the martial arts stage and drew his sword, the almost terrifying power between his moves was already overwhelming to the point of invoking a kind of despair in his opponents.

Nian Chaoxi had seen the generals under her father coming off of the battlefield. That feeling of almost integrating the murderous aura and carnage of those bloody battles into their souls, and then revealing it in every move was exactly the same as Yan Weixing at this moment.

That is a kind of power that is completely different from that of ordinary cultivators, and it has nothing to do with cultivation.

When he draws his sword, you will think of the sea of blood, the abyss, and everything that terrifies ordinary people.

Faced with such an opponent and such an oppressive aura, Nian Chaoxi should have felt desperate.

But when she drew her sword, a rush of joy surged from the bottom of her heart.

She is not afraid of such an opponent. She is not afraid of losing, and even longs for such a battle.

The desire was so strong that even her soul was on fire, making her feel a long-lost, almost intoxicating excitement, and her pale face was stained with a bit of color.

Nian Chaoxi couldn't help but think that this might be the wonder of blood lineage. As the daughter of the God of War, even if she was frail and sickly, even if she had not been able to lift a blade for decades, once she held the sword and found a powerful opponent, she still desired to fight from the bottom of her soul.

The moonlight-like sword energy was intermittent, but was cut off halfway by the blood-colored sword energy, strangling and devouring it inch by inch.

The young man opposite was undoubtedly strong, but when she stood in front of him, he treated her as a real opponent, not a weakling who needed pity, or someone who could be easily dealt with and tricked.

The more she fought, the more she was suppressed, but the more she was suppressed, the stronger her will to fight became. Under the extreme pressure, she performed even better than in every other victory.

It was not known whether the young man opposite her did it intentionally or unintentionally, but he led her to use all she had learned. In the end, she was suppressed and had no moves left to use. She even honed the technique that she had never been able to practice before without a teacher.

The moonlight-like sword energy lingered up and tore half of the young man's sleeves. His sword handle then pressed on Nian Chaoxi's shoulder.

"Miss Nian, you lose." The young man said in a low voice.

Nian Chaoxi's spiritual power was almost exhausted. Her long hair was damp with sweat, and her face was so pale that it was almost transparent.

She seemed to be in an embarrassing state, but when she looked up at him, she actually smiled.

"I lost," she said.

There was no reluctance at all. Her voice was relaxed and satisfied, and she even shrugged.

She held the half of the black sleeve that was sliced off by her sword, waved it in front of him, raised her eyebrows and said: "But this is what I cut off. It's my trophy, so I will keep it."

As she spoke, she actually put the sleeve into her storage ring. It seemed that compared to all her previous victories, being able to slice off Yan Weixing's sleeve this time made her the most satisfied.

Yan Weixing looked at it, slightly stunned. It wasn't clear what he was thinking, but his ears actually turned red.

The next moment, thunderous cheers rang out, for Yan Weixing and for Nian Chaoxi.

Amid the deafening noise, Mu Yunzhi, who was sitting on the viewing platform, looked down and could actually hear his own heartbeat clearly.

It seemed louder than the applause, and he was certain who it was for.

His eyes fell on Nian Chaoxi, and he couldn't look away.

A cheerful expression and bright eyes.

At this moment, she seemed like a stranger to him.

Mu Yunzhi realized belatedly that when she challenged him to a duel, she had really wanted a duel regardless of winning or losing.

She didn't want him to deliberately let her win, nor did she want sympathy or pity.

He was wrong from the beginning.

Amid the cheers and applause, Mu Yunzhi's expression was difficult to discern.

The referee's voice rang out. "The winner is Yan Weixing!"

Yan Weixing suddenly came to his senses, apologized, and pulled Nian Chaoxi up.

Nian Chaoxi stood with his strength and said with a smile: "Master Yan, congratulations."

Yan Weixing didn't make any excuses about it being luck or anything like that, because his strength was overwhelmingly obvious.

He only said: "I am waiting for Miss Nian to surpass me one day. When the time comes, I am willing to compete with Miss Nian again."

Nian Chaoxi stared at him for a moment, then suddenly lowered her head and smiled, "Okay! When I defeat you, I will return the spoils I have collected to Master Yan. For now, I'd better hang on to it to remind me not to slack off."

Yan Weixing looked down at his severed sleeve, and was slightly dazed.

At this time, the Headmaster of Duheng Academy had come up, holding a medal representing the victory of this martial arts tournament, as well as the key to the library of Duheng Academy.

Nian Chaoxi had participated in the martial arts tournament for that key.

Looking at it, she felt it was a pity, but had no regret.

After all, losing is losing. Since she can't win this key, she can only think of another way.

The headmaster was waiting to present the prize to Yan Weixing, so Nian Chaoxi did not linger any longer and turned around to leave the stage.

Before she stepped down, she accidentally overheard Yan Weixing asking the headmaster something. The noise from the audience was too loud, so she couldn't hear clearly for a moment and only caught the second half of the sentence.

"...Then can I give it to someone else?"

Nian Chaoxi didn't hear the headmaster's reply, but she saw Yan Weixing sigh with relief after a moment, before saying with a smile, "In that case, I feel relieved."

Hm?

What did he want to give to someone?

Nian Chaoxi frowned in confusion, but before she could think too much, she had already walked down into the crowd. Like everyone else, she looked up at Yan Weixing on the stage.

The headmaster stood in front of Yan Weixing, and the key that everyone had been longing for was about to be handed over.

At this moment, a lukewarm voice suddenly spoke out.

"Wait."

The voice was extremely familiar and the entire audience fell silent.

Nian Chaoxi's face had already darkened, and she looked up towards the viewing platform where Mu Yunzhi was seated, wearing a green cloak. Having held a high position for many years, he had developed a majestic temperament. He lowered his head and looked down at the young man in black clothes on the martial arts stage.

The young Taoist on the martial arts stage raised his head and looked over. His fierce aura from the battle just now had not yet dissipated.

Mu Yunzhi suddenly smiled and said slowly, "This young Taoist is extraordinary. It's really surprising. I haven't seen such a talented cultivator for a long time. I also want to add a prize. I wonder if the masters will allow it?"

Several cultivation masters looked at each other and asked, "What prize does the City Lord want to add?"

Mu Yunzhi smiled and said, "Since this Taoist has won, why not compete in a match against me? If you beat me, the City Lord's Mansion will grant you a request. As long as it does not violate the laws of Yuejian City and the bottom line of the cultivation world, you can ask for anything. What do you think?"

After he finished speaking, everyone looked at Yan Weixing.

Under so many gazes, Yan Weixing suddenly laughed, and there was an almost dangerous beauty to his handsome face.

He asked: "What if I lose?"

Mu Yunzhi smiled and said, "Then I ask this Taoist to serve me in Yuejian City for ten years."

After the words were spoken, everyone started talking.

In the eyes of ordinary cultivators, this is a worthwhile deal.

A promise from the City Lord's Mansion was hard to come by, and ten years is just a blink of an eye for a cultivator. What's more, the bet of serving for ten years doesn't seem like a loss at all. Instead, it seems more like something the Lord of Yuejian City said to show his respect for talented people.

Serving Yuejian City and being valued by the City Lord is something that many cultivators dare not even dream about.

Therefore, in the eyes of others, Mu Yunzhi's words were not an insult, but an attempt to recruit talent.

Only Nian Chaoxi knew what Mu Yunzhi was thinking.

Yan Weixing is still young now, but in time he will definitely be a figure comparable to her father.

With just a mere bet, he wanted such a person to work for him for ten years. He really dared to think about it!

Nian Chaoxi almost laughed out of anger.

She once said that as long as she was in Yuejian Castle, no one was allowed to touch Yan Weixing, but it seemed that he never took it seriously.

Now, he was trying to plot against Yan Weixing right in front of her.

After Mu Yunzhi finished speaking, he waited for Yan Weixing's answer. Yan Weixing looked at him meaningfully.

Nian Chaoxi sneered and was about to stand up to interrupt.

The next moment, a hand suddenly pressed on her shoulder, and Jing Wang's voice sounded lazily in her ears.

"Vice City Lord, just watch. Yan Weixing may look a little absentminded, but he actually knows what he's doing. Don't worry, he won't let himself suffer any loss."

As soon as he finished speaking, Yan Weixing responded.

He said slowly: "Then, please teach me, City Lord Mu."

No one expected that the final match of this martial arts tournament would be a competition between the Lord of Yuejian City and Yan Weixing.

Although Mu Yunzhi was not very old, he was a leader among his peers. His cultivation was increasing rapidly and he had received guidance from the God of War, but few people have seen him in action.

Yan Weixing was several decades younger than Mu Yunzhi. Although his cultivation level is at the Golden Core stage, his strength is unfathomable.

The two men faced off, took only a glance at each other, and then quickly started fighting.

Mu Yunzhi had received instruction from the God of War, and had been acknowledged as a gifted man by the God of War himself, with almost no rivals among his peers. However, as soon as the fight started, he was actually evenly matched with a man who was much younger than him.

He was a little panicked for a moment.

However, the young man opposite seemed to be completely unaffected. His face was calm and every move was devoid of flaws.

This may be a tough nut to crack.

The battle on the stage had already exceeded everyone's expectations. Nian Chaoxi frowned as she watched, but Jing Wang was not worried at all. He went back to his old job, slowly taking out things and starting a betting pool.

"Please place your bets, all Dao lords. Yan Weixing is 1 to 5, and City Lord Mu is 1 to 3!"

Nian Chaoxi was watching seriously at first, but when she heard this, she immediately said with dissatisfaction: "Are you, little monk, still Master Yan's friend? Why does Master Yan have such high odds?"

Jing Wang blinked his eyes, "Isn't Mu Yunzhi the lord of your Yuejian City? City Lord Mu has a high win rate, isn't the fairy happy?"

There's no way she'd be happy!

Nian Chaoxi rolled her eyes, feeling uncommonly speechless, and immediately asked Yan'er to give her a thousand spirit stones to bet on Yan Weixing.

Jing Wang immediately shouted: "Fairy, think twice! Fairy, think twice!"

Nian Chaoxi ignored him and her eyes fell on the stage again.

She realized something was wrong just from a glance.

Yan Weixing did not lose the upper hand, but his complexion was not good at all. His attacks were still fierce, but his expression was pale as if he had just recovered from a serious illness.

But just now, he wasn't injured.

Nian Chaoxi frowned and immediately asked Jing Wang: "Is Master Yan ill?"

Jing Wang looked up, then lowered his head without interest, and said nonchalantly, "It's just an old injury. It happened a few days ago, and it probably hasn't fully healed yet, but it doesn't matter. He's a tough guy. He'll be fine after this match. You don't have to worry about him."

As if to verify what Jing Wang said, Yan Weixing's attacks became more fierce. The paler his face became, the more brutal his moves became. Mu Yunzhi was actually at a disadvantage for a while.

Jing Wang had come over to stand beside her at some point, and said calmly: "Yan Weixing is a man who becomes more dangerous the more injured he is, and the more dangerous he is, the more he can withstand. Just wait, your City Lord will not be able to hold on for much longer."

As soon as he finished speaking, Yan Weixing suddenly revealed an opening. Mu Yunzhi realized it was a trap and did not rush forward. Instead, Yan Weixing took the opportunity to rush forward, with the blood-red sword energy rising and falling, and the tip of his sword pointed directly at the opponent's neck. The sword energy touched the opponent's throat, and then stopped suddenly, only piercing a little skin and causing a small drop of blood to flow.

But Nian Chaoxi clearly felt that Yan Weixing really wanted to stab Mu Yunzhi in the face just now.

It was Mu Yunzhi's defeat.

The entire Duheng Academy fell into silence.

The lord of Yuejian City was defeated in Yuejian City.

And not even the length of time it takes to brew a cup of tea had passed since the match began.

The opponent didn't even suffer any injuries except for looking a little pale.

In the silence, Yan Weixing put away his sword.

Mu Yunzhi was silent for a moment, then said calmly: "I have lost, so you can make a request of my City Lord Mansion."

Everyone was still stunned.

Yan Weixing wanted to say something, but a young girl's voice suddenly said, "Master Yan, wait a minute."

Yan Weixing looked over immediately.

Nian Chaoxi had already stepped onto the martial arts stage. She looked at him and said with a smile, "If Master Yan has any requests, can you wait until I leave the City Lord's Mansion before asking? I'm afraid he will implicate me."

Yan Weixing was stunned for a moment, but didn't react. Mu Yunzhi immediately frowned and said, "Leaving the City Lord's Mansion? Xixi, what are you talking about!"

Nian Chaoxi looked at him and suddenly smiled: "Mu Yunzhi, it's already the fifth day."

Mu Yunzhi didn't react to what she was saying.

Nian Chaoxi smiled and said, "It seems that you didn't take what I said to heart."

Mu Yunzhi suddenly remembered something and his expression changed.

At this time, Nian Chaoxi said calmly: "I already told you, I will give you five days to consider things and then, whether you agree or not, we will publically cancel the engagement."

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#the doting love story's female supporting role has quit

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pips-squeak · 2 years

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And All The King's Men

Maybe if the peasant girl’s brother had lived this would be a different story. Maybe if the king had pleased his people he would still be alive. But I can’t change the past actions of others, and neither can you, so I ask that you join me, and allow me to tell you a tale.

…

On a cold morning, a freezing one in fact, one with icicles hanging from the village house roofs, a young, peasant girl sat on the floor of her cottage and held her dying brother’s hand.

The peasant girl's name was Anya. Named after her mother’s mother.

Anya wasn’t looking forward to later that day, and she wasn’t in too good of a mood to begin with. I suppose that’s what shivering next to a dead fire does to a person. She would’ve been much happier asleep than awake, dreaming of fresh bread and the toy store with colorful banners hanging on the outside.

However, she would have to get ready soon. There was a ball to attend, and her family, consisting of her and her mother, as her brother couldn’t very well walk in his condition, needed to be there.

So, in a few hours, there was flying ribbon and curling of the hair, then pinning it back with clips made of fake jewels, and off to the palace they went.

I would like to be able to tell you that it all went off without a hitch, but as of recent I’ve made a vow as to not lie, so I shall tell you the events that took place that night in full.

First: there was a wizard. He had come to bestow a gift upon the kingdom for lending him their army. Thousands were killed in crossfire, so he believed it was the least he could do.

Something important that you should know going forward in this story is that the king was ill. He had no successor as he had no wife, none standing around him long enough to say their vows.

Another tidbit you should know: The wizard did not favor the king. And neither did Anya, but that is beside the point.

So, second: there was the stone. The wizard’s gift to the people of the kingdom that healed any wound or sickness. Many of the villagers were suffering from frostbite this year, as most of the men who had mined the coal had died in the war.

The game from the wizard was this: the stone was hidden somewhere inside the castle, and whoever found it could keep it, and only they could take advantage of the power, or suffer a greater consequence.

But the king did not like to listen.

For fear of you misunderstanding, dear friend, I will spell it out so that you do not forget.

The king was not a kind man. He was a feared one.

And the wizard knew this, and the king’s people knew this, and our little peasant girl knew this.

And when the wizard left, the king lived up to his name and demanded that whoever find the stone must bring it to him, under penalty of death if taken for oneself.

But Anya didn’t like this new rule. ‘It wasn’t fair’, she thought. ‘Why must we do the healing of you when you can’t afford us new roofs on our houses while you live in this castle with your servants in your cellar?’

She was bitter, to say the least.

So when the king dismissed his loyal subjects to go and find the stone for him, Anya searched, but she wasn’t looking for the king. No, she had others to care for.

Low and behold, just a few minutes after she set off into the winding corridors of the castle, she found the gem, sparkly, much more real than the ones in her hair. It was transparent, and reflected the light of the grand chandeliers.

As footsteps came running behind her, she tucked the small stone into a sewed in pocket in her skirts. She turned away and pretended to look busy while the person ran past.

A temporary but triumphant smile to herself, and then running past the other people searching, through the gates of the castle and back to her cottage.

Inside rested her little brother, frail, with pale, gauntlike cheeks that should have been a rosy pink from the cold.

She knew the rules. But she was also willing to make a gamble.

She brought out the gem, and her brother reached for it, small fingers holding it in a fist. Anya guided his hand to his forehead, feeling his freezing body.

Third: Gambles never pay off.

The effects of the magic were short-lived. All at once, the boy's body warmed, heat rushing to his face and hands and bones. And then it was gone, snuffed out like a candle that had just been lit.

His hand dropped, Anya’s hold being the only thing keeping it from hitting the sheets. The heat left, evaporated in an instant. And he was dead.

The stone fell onto the bed, now a dark, swirling ebony.

Shock rushed over the girl. And then cold calculation. And vengeance. That’s what I truly love about humans, you know. They are soft and caring when they want, some even by nature. But none of them can make it last forever.

Anya grasped the black stone in her fist, and with one last look over her shoulder, she ran back to the castle. She had a gift to deliver.

(taglist under the cut)

@indecisiveaesthetic @idkjustgowithitok @cupsmp @moonlitartist

#pips writing #writing #flash fiction #short story #death ment #long post

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dreamescapeswriting · 4 years

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Your New Boss ~ KTH [M] [Request]

WORD COUNT: 5K

GENRE: Fluffy, Non Idol! CEO AU, Smut, office smut, unprotected sex, fluffy smut,

PAIRING: Kim Taehyung x Fem!Reader

As vice president to the company that you worked for people would assume you'd be on time and organised for every day that came at you but today just wasn't your day. Normally you would be up earlier than you had to be, you'd have some coffee and a real breakfast but for some reason, the universe had it out for you today. There was a power outage in your small apartment quarter setting your alarm off and giving you no chance to charge your phone and to top all that off your car was refusing to start for you. As well as having a flat tire at the back, you slammed your head down against the steering wheel wanting nothing more than for this day to end. All you wanted to do was go back to sleep.

"This is just fucking magical!" You screamed sarcastically as you took your black faux leather side bag from the boot of your car before booting the wheel that was flat and storming off towards the closest bus stop. It wouldn't be so bad being late if it wasn't for the new CEO that was taking over the business. You had no idea what his name was but from what you heard he was a hard ass on everyone. The only reason he was even taking over was that your boss was retiring and leaving it to someone he barely knew.

"Here," An elderly man held out an umbrella for you as you reached the bus stop, you thanked him and held it above your head. The uniform you were wearing was suited for the pouring rain that had seemingly come out of nowhere on your walk over, it had been scheduled sun all day which was why you'd worn the skirt and white blouse. Not expecting to get caught in the rain leaving your shirt almost transparent and your legs freezing cold.

"You're late, you're late for a very important date," Your junior worker said as she watched you scramble off the elevator, it had been creaking the whole ride up. You'd think for a million-dollar company they would learn to upgrade their elevator.

"I know, power outage and then my car wouldn't start, then the traffic coming in-" You sat down on your desk chair feeling defeated in yourself. You were freezing in the clothes you were wearing, the one day you don't bring in a spare change of clothes would be today.

"Then to top off the rain." You hissed as your assistant came rushing over making you jump, he was a little jumpy himself but he plugged a small heater in for you before standing in front of you.

"Do you have this morning's business reports?" You nodded over at the bag and he reached for it, telling you how you were the one supposed to give a meeting this morning but instead, the new CEO took over.

"Oh shit, is he nasty? Think he'll fire me?" Panic raced through you at the thought of being fired, you'd worked so hard to get to the vice president you weren't about to lose it because today the Universe hated you.

"I don't think so, he seems rather nice actually. He has the nicest eyes as well you should-"

"Miss Y/l/n, you're requested in the head office." One of the bitchy females told you as she glanced you up and down, she licked her lips before leaving to go and giggle with her friends. You gathered the papers from your assistant who began watching you closely, you slipped on a pair of heels you kept under your desk before heading over to the main office cabin.

"This day can't get any worse, it just can't." You mumbled to yourself as you placed your hand on the door to the main office.

"Come in!" A voice sounded from inside that seemed strangely familiar to you, it was odd. There was something about the voice, you couldn't quite place where you knew it from but there was a feeling in your gut that made you not want to head inside.

"Sir, I would like to formally apologise- ah!" As soon as you walked through the door the papers you'd been carrying began to fly out of your hands and all around the floor of the room. Taehyung looked up from the piece of paper with your name on it and his mouth almost fell open, he had no idea that it would be you.

"Miss Y/l/n?" He called out as he continued to watch you bend down and pick up the pieces of paper that were scattered around his office floor. He sighed to himself and got up to close the window, the breeze had been relaxing to him until now.

"Sorry Sir," You mumbled still not knowing where you knew his voice but as soon as you turned around and came face to face with him you could have died. Coincidentally the day could have gotten worse and it just did. Taehyung's mouth fell open as soon as you locked eyes, it was you.

"Why are you late?" He wasn't going to waste time on pleasantries, he kept up his stern look as he sat down on his chair and looked over your file. There'd never been an incident with you being late before so he saw no reason for you to be late today, even before he was your boss he knew how strict you were on your timekeeping.

"Sir, I was-" You glanced at him, he was still the same person as he was before you broke up only to you he was someone who hurt you badly.

"There was a power outage in my apartment building, then my car wouldn't start and there was traffic. As you can see I've never been late in the past..." You trailed off your own words not wanting to ramble in front of him, there was no reason for you to ramble to someone like him.

"Hmm, how odd that it all happened on the same day. You must have some serious bad luck," He said with a giant smile on his face,

"Hmm, I'm starting to think so." You mumbled while staring at the floor,

"Sorry? What did you say?" You shook your head as you plastered the fakest smile you could manage onto your face,

"Nothing Sir," He hummed before going back to looking through your reports and files that you'd produced.

"For being late this morning I want you to play catch up, you'll be filling out reports all week." He shut the folder and turned to look up at you, his eyes locking with yours.

"Before you leave, I run a strict business here. You'll have to change into something more appropriate for the workday. A white see-through shirt just isn't right for business." Your arms slowly folded over your chest as you grew insecure of him seeing all of this again,

"Yes Sir, won't happen again." He nodded to you and you turned to walk out of the door,

"Another thing," Your hand rested on the door handle of his office door, you turned to glance over your shoulder at him and his demeanour had changed now. His eyes seemed to have softened as he watched you closely.

"I don't want our past to disrupt our working environment-" You scoffed rolling your eyes at how unbelievable he was acting right now. He was still just the same entitled, can do no wrong guy he was before.

"What you mean is, you don't want me running around and tell everyone what you did to me." You snapped coldly as you turned to face him again, it was evident that you weren't going to leave the room just yet if this topic was being brought up for discussion.

"What I did to you?" He put the emphasis on the 'You' as he spoke, he raised himself from his desk and placed his palms flat on the table as his demeanour changed back to someone that was cold and cruel.

"What did I exactly do to you?" Your weight shifted from one foot to the other as you tried to match his cold stare but nothing could compare to his.

"The cheating for starters, all the women you were seeing behind my back but don't worry Sir. I won't let anyone know, I wouldn't want them knowing I snooped so low to date someone like you," He began shaking his head the moment that you told him he was seeing women behind your back,

"It's not true. Why would I ever cheat on you?" He was trying to get across to you that there must have been some kind of misunderstanding but you weren't going to stand here and battle it out with him. It was in the past now and that was all that mattered to you,

"I won't let anyone know about our past, it's something I wish I could forget also." You mumbled sarcastically as you stormed out of the room making sure to slam the door behind you as you headed for your desk.

"What happened? You look like you've seen a ghost." Your assistant was worried Taehyung might have said something that had upset you but it wasn't true...Almost wasn't true.

"Can you just go and buy me a new shirt please, I feel exposed." You were handing him your purse trying to get him out of your hair, if you spoke about it even a little it would bring back all of those feelings again and leave you crying on the floor.

"Right away ma'am." He could sense there was something you didn't want to talk about so he headed out of your way while you sat at your desk contemplating the decision of quitting. You'd worked so hard all these years to have your ex come above you and potentially ruin everything for you.

"Do you want a lift back? I can drive past your apartment," Your assistant said to you later that night as you sat at your desk. Your heels were kicked off under the desk and you were at with one foot under yourself while you tried to stay away to finish the reports.

"No, it's alright. I have overtime tonight. I'll see you tomorrow though," You mumbled to him as he walked behind you and left. The rest of your floor was empty except for a few of the cleaners and of course Taehyung who was observed to make sure you did the overtime like you were supposed to. The words on the pieces of paper were all starting to blend together and make less sense the longer you stared at them, it was infuriating to do.

"Here," A mug of coffee was slipped onto your desk by Taehyung. He was already starting to feel guilty for making you do overtime but he didn't want people in the company to think he was picking favourites. You had to be tough in this company or it would chew you up and spit you back out. Glancing at the cup you ignored it and continued on with working not wanting to take anything from him, you didn't even want to be in the same room as him.

"You're free to go as soon as this report is finished and on my desk. You'll be doing overtime all week and you have a meeting on Friday." He slammed another folder full of reports on the desk before storming out of the building leaving you alone with the cleaners who had all turned to see what was happening.

The week continued on just like that, snide remarks being made by you in direction of him and Taehyung piling more work onto your desk with the excuse that, 'It was your job.' Later nights meant less sleep and less sleep meant you weren't pumping out the best of work but it was finally Friday night which meant you could go home and get away from him for the weekend.

"Drinks tonight?" A lady from your office questioned as she walked up behind your chair and began shaking it playfully,

"Erm I'd love to-" Your eyes looked behind her to see Taehyung watching you, he was sitting against his chair with his eyes dead on you.

"I have work to finish, next week?" The girls all began leaving and you were alone in the office with Taehyung again. Luckily for you, there was a large wall keeping you both apart but it wasn't large enough to your liking. You could still feel his eyes burning into the back of your head as you worked on the papers you were doing.

Taehyung wasn't in his office which meant you had about two seconds to get the report put on his desk and get into the elevator so you wouldn't have to face him. You dropped the papers down on the desk and began sprinting your way over to the lift, sliding inside and leaning back against the cold wall as you breathed a sigh of relief. Managing to avoid him all week had been difficult but you'd managed by sending your assistant in to give him or ask him for things. Or leaving whenever he wasn't around. There was no reason for you to talk to one another and you wouldn't have to feel hurt by him whenever you looked at him anymore.

"Y/n! Hold the door!" You scrunched your face together hoping the door would close as quickly as possible as he continued to yell your name out and begged you not to let the doors shut. The doors were so close to closing, you were almost free when his long shoe stuck in the door to open them again. The tension quickly began to grow awkward as he stood inside with you,

"Didn't you hear me calling?" You shook your head not wanting to admit you'd been hoping to get away from him. You just hoped that the elevator would move as quickly as possible but you seemed to move one floor and it began rumbling and it sounded as though it was about to fall apart.

"S-Shit," You whimpered your hand gripping onto the bar behind you, Taehyung glanced at you with panic in his eyes. He knew how badly you hated confined spaces and being trapped inside of an elevator probably wasn't what you had in mind for a fun Friday night.

A loud crunch sounded and the elevator jolted to a stop before the lights began to flicker out plunging you and Taehyung into complete darkness.

"I'll push the emergency button." Taehyung went to move but the elevator made another creaking sound so you gripped onto his wrist not wanting him to move.

"S-Stop, what if we fall?" He shook his head at you, he could tell just how frightened you were but there was nothing to be afraid of.

"We're okay, the ropes and wires will be fine it's just the power outage...Remember, they've been happening all week." You knew he was doing his best to keep you calm but it didn't help you at all. You slowly let go of his wrist so he could call someone but the button did nothing, it just seemed to push in and not do a thing.

"I don't have my phone it's up in my office," He whispered as he looked over at you, you were showing him your dead phone battery as you slowly slid down the back wall.

"We'll either start moving soon or someone will come to get us it's okay." But this was far from okay, this was all things not okay because you were stuck in here with your ex-boyfriend who was now your boss.

Time seemed to be passing by slowly, neither of you was sure of what the time actually was but you could have sworn you'd been in there for two days - which was impossible someone would have found you.

"We could talk you know, save us sitting in silence." He was sitting across from you on the opposite wall, his shirt was untucked with the top three buttons undone looking as immaculate as he always did. His brown curls were a mess from all of the times he'd been running his fingers through it and he'd even put his glasses on. Something he used to do whenever he got headaches from what you could remember.

"What should we talk about?" Your eyes were locked onto the ceiling, you didn't want to make eye contact with him as you spoke but you had to admit this was better than sitting there doing nothing.

"We could talk about why you think I was cheating on you..." You looked at him with raised eyebrows, pulling your knees into your chest.

"I don't think you were, I know you were." He rolled his eyes at you as he tried to move closer to you,

"Y/n. I love you I would never do something like that...Why would you think that?" Taehyung's words were buzzing around in your head as you tried to focus on them, the one constant thing was that he said 'loves' you and not loved past tense. Taking in a deep breath you tried not to think about the way your heart was pounding rapidly, at the way your body longed to be closer to him for this.

"I saw you with those other girls, I saw the way they flirted...T-The way you touched them," He shook his head as you fumbled over your words, none of it had been true. He would never do something like that to you, he couldn't stand hurting you.

"None of it was true, I was seeing a lot of girls towards the end because I was getting something for you...A lot of them were private jewellers." Your brows knitted together as he spoke to you, denying everything you thought to be true this last year. Taehyung could see how confused you were so he began to reach into his pocket,

"I take it everywhere I go, it reminds me of you and how much I'll always love you." There it was again. Love. Present tense.

"Tae-" He cut you short by pulling out a small navy blue box, he popped it open to reveal a silver chain with a ring around it.

"It's like a promise ring...only for adults and not teenagers. I wanted to make it perfect so it-"

"Has the date we met engraved," You whispered as you saw the date etched into the outside of the ring with enough space beside it to add another date to it.

"So you weren't cheating on me..." He shook his head slowly,

"But you let me walk out," You whispered to him as he crawled to sit next to you, he looked at your hands wanting nothing more than to reach out and take it into his own. He knew you were single, he'd been asking your scrawny looking assistant everything he could about you and he knew you hadn't dated anyone since.

"I didn't want you to hate me by trying to force you...I-I figured you'd realise I would never-" He was cut off when you suddenly, out of nowhere, began kissing him hungrily. Your hands working their way into his brown curls as you pulled him to face you, he hummed against your lips moving his hands to your waist.

"W-Wait, what are you doing?" He questioned part of him not wanting the kissing to end but the other part of him confused as to what was happening.

"I love you too...I-I thought you were cheated and I- I've never stopped loving you." Those were the only words he needed to hear from you as he brought you into another hungry kiss, you took control by sitting on his lap and smirking as you felt him bite down on your lip.

"As needy as ever." You whispered as you began kissing down his jawline and towards his neck, his aftershave was still the same. It made your body lurch forward as you ground your hips down onto his pants, you could feel just how much he needed you. He let out a whimper as you ground down and you giggled,

"I love you," You whispered to him as he cupped your chin in his hand and forced you to look into his eyes.

"I love you too," He mumbled bringing you into a rough kiss, his hands moving the edge of your skirt up as he pushed his palm along the inside of your thigh. Letting out a loud gasp as his thumb brushed along the outside of your core through your underwear you looked at him, begging him silently to take you then and there but the lift jolted and the lights flickered on.

"My office," He ordered as you stood up to straighten yourself out.

Once out of the confined space reality began to seep into you about what you were doing with Taehyung. How you'd practically pounced on him without a second thought but your body didn't care. You still wanted him badly so you raced to his office with him. He drew the curtains shut around the small window that looked out over the offices while you looked out at the city view.

"It's beautiful," You whispered as you stared out at all the nightlife. The lights on all the buildings were the only thing lighting up the top half of the sky, it was lovely. Taehyung stood behind you while watching you instead of the view,

"It's the second most beautiful view for me," You groaned at how cheesy he was being and looked down at the floor not wanting to show him how shy he still managed to make you.

"Don't hide from me," He whispered standing behind you and placing his hands on your waist, your breath hitched as soon as he touched you.

"You're beautiful," He whispered as he leant down to put a long kiss on your neck making you whine out at the feel of it.

"I missed the way you sound," He admitted as he continued to leave small kisses on your skin. Biting down softly as he pulled you closer to him. He was still hard for you which made you weak at the knees,

"You like this baby? You like the way I touch you?" You couldn't fathom the words to speak quite yet so you pushed your ass back against him and gasped feeling how hard he was.

"Want you," Was the only thing you could manage to say while rolling your hips back,

"Want you inside." You whispered but he cocked his head to the side and decided to tease you as he sucked on your neck.

"You want me inside? Inside where?" He ran his hands down your body, lifting up the tight pencil skirt that had been teasing him all week. Then his thumb came into contact with your wet panties,

"You're so wet Y/n, did I do this to you?" You nodded weakly and he smirked pushing the edge of your panties to the side as he began to rub harder on your exposed clit.

"Say it, I want to hear you say it." He whispered as he began rubbing roughly on your clit, teasing one finger at your entrance but never once pushing it into you.

"I want you inside of me, I want you to make love to me on the desk." You panted heavily, moaning out at the smallest of touches.

"Good girl," He praised spinning you around so fast you didn't have time to comprehend what was happening until you were placed onto the edge of the table.

He had a cocky smirk plastered across his face as he sunk down in front of you, looking up into your eyes as he placed a small kiss on your clit.

"Taste so much better than I remember," He wasted no time in teasing you and dipped his tongue into you. Moaning against you as he could feel you clenching around his tongue.

"Oh shit." You let out a high pitch yell as your hands pushed into his curls, pushing him closer to your core as you bucked against him, whimpering as he continued to eat you out on the desk.

"Look at me," He ordered as your head rolled back, you hissed as he pushed two fingers into you and chuckled.

"So tight, has no one fucked this pretty little cunt?" You shook your head, you'd not slept with anyone since the moment you left. It was always going to be him you would let touch you, no one else.

"T-Tae please, I'm close." You panted as he continued to push his fingers in and out of you, curling them as he pushed them knuckles deep. The room was starting to feel like it was spinning each time he thrust his fingers into you.

"You want to cum all over my fingers?" You nodded pathetically and he chuckled kissing up to your ear as he continued to fuck his own fingers to you.

"So fucking tight, cum all over my fingers then angel." You whimpered hearing him whisper into your ear, you bit down on his shoulder bucking against his fingers to drawer yourself closer to the edge.

"Ugh, shit- T-Taehyung!" You cried out feeling a warm sensation rise through your body before white clouded your vision. Cumming all over his fingers as he continued to pump them in and out of you. Staring into your eyes as he slowly pulled them out and sucked them clean.

Seeing this you went to slide off the desk to return the favour but he shook his head, unbuckling his trousers as he looked at you.

"N-Need to feel you around me." You smirked this time, seeing how desperate he became within a matter of seconds.

"Then take me." You slowly spread your legs for him on the desk and he gulped looking at how wet you were, your cum still dripping from your folds and he grunted. Reaching out to run his fingers through your arousal before coating himself in it. Pumping himself slowly as he grunted out your name,

"S-Shit baby...I don't- I don't have any-" You shook your head at him as you knew what he was going to say,

"I'm on the pill." As soon as the words left your mouth it was like something took over him and he slowly pushed himself into you. Your nails dug into your shoulders as you whimpered out his name.

"T-Taehyung i-it hurts-" It'd been so long since anything like this had happened for you, he kissed you lovingly.

"I know Y/n, I'm sorry." He pulled back out before sliding back in moaning as he felt your walls tighten around him.

"Even tighter than before," He grunted as he kissed you again, holding onto your hips as he continued with the slow thrusts into you not wanting to hurt you.

"F-Faster," You panted as your back arched forward into him. His eyes scanned over the white shirt and all he could picture was Monday morning when your shirt was wet, he ripped your shirt open and smirked seeing a black bra.

"So fucking hot." He hissed as he buried himself deep into you, freeing you from your bra and throwing your ripped clothing somewhere in the room.

"Argh fuck." You whimpered as he began tugging and twisting on one nipple while biting softly on the other. He had you in the palm of his hands and he knew it.

"T-Taehyng faster please." You begged him so he began to piston his hips forward, bringing you closer to the edge of the table to pick up his speed. Thrusting in and out of you quickly while you let out screams of his name and curse words.

"J-Just like that!" You cried out as he reached down to play with your sensitive clit again. Tugging it between his fingers and rubbing it roughly.

"Oh god, Tae!" You screamed out as he continued to thrust into you, you clenched around and he grunted.

"B-Baby d-don't," He stuttered out as his hip movements began to stutter, every clench as bringing him closer to his own release and he didn't want this to end.

"W-Want you to cum." You whimpered out to him as his rhythm picked up again, hitting your hilt every time making your eyes roll back.

"Y-You first princess," He chuckled watching the way your eyes rolled back as he hit you in just the right spot. You clenched around him a couple more time before moaning out his name loudly, so close to your second orgasm you wanted to push him away from the over-stimulation but pull him back and never let him stop.

"S-Shit I-I'm cumming." You whimpered as he pushed into you roughly one last time, making your core clench around him and released onto his cock. His hips jutted as he let out a growl from his lips, holding you in place as he filled you up. You whimpered feeling some of it drip out of you already but he held himself inside of you. You convulsed a little and he chuckled pulling out slowly before cupping your face in his hands and smiling at you.

"I love you so much Y/n," He pulled you into a loving kiss but you pulled away,

"I love you too," Your voice came out hoarse from all the yelling and you whimpered laying back against the desk not caring that you were laid on stacks of ruined papers.

"Am I off the hook for being late now?" You laughed as he pulled you up and wrapped his blazer around your body, he chuckled at you.

"You're only off the hook if you come back to mine tonight. I want to wake up with you in my arms, cook you breakfast...Like old times." He whispered as he pushed his head into the crook of your neck and kissed softly.

"Of course," You whispered back to him as he pulled you down from the desk, laughing softly as you whined out desperately. You suddenly felt empty when his seed left your body and he rolled his eyes at you, promising to do it again when you got back to his place if you behaved yourself on the ride home.

Tagline: @fluffyjoons @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @fan-ati--c @kneel-begyourpardon @taestannie @rjsmochii @bisexualmess007 @sw33tnight @sweeneyblue1

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yandere-daydreams · 4 years

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Twelve Days of Christmas - Day Ten

Prompt: By The Fireplace.

Pairing: Yandere!Diavolo/Reader (Obey Me).

TW: Kidnapping, Imprisonment, Physical Abuse, Mentions of Self-Mutilation, Implied Non-Con, Slight Infantilization, and Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms.

The fire’s always lit, in Diavolo’s chambers.

With the perpetual darkness of the Devildom and how little demons rely on sleep, there’s never a reason to put it out. Underneath miles of stone, in a world incased by cold rock and soil, warmth and light are a precious resources, ones even the Prince himself seems to hold dear. It’s burning when he wakes you up, already dressed and smiling by the time you relented the sudden chill of consciousness, and when you go to bed, sore and exhausted and too weak to push him away, it’s still there, an eerie constant you can’t quite bring yourself to appreciate. It grows dimmer, but it never goes out. It flares brighter than it should be able to with such little kindling, but it never runs out of fuel.

It shouldn’t bother you, but there’s little about the life Diavolo provides that doesn’t.

You thought it was an illusion, at the start of your captivity. It wouldn’t have been the first you’d seen Diavolo use, even if he wasn’t usually as fond of magic as his talent for it might suggest. He prefers more physical methods, shackles when you try to lash out, gags when you say something he doesn’t like, and chains on the few occasions you genuinely attempt to escape and get farther than the castle’s walls before he or Barbatos can drag you back. There’s never a punishment, but it might’ve been better if there was. That way, you’d be able to bleed out your anger, you’d be able to tell yourself not to fight back because fighting back would only make things worse. When he holds you in his arms, clicking his tongue and going on about how sweet he could be if you’d only behave, it’s hard to justify doing anything except ensuring yourself another night spent in that dark, dank dungeon and another faceless guard to trail after you, on the few occasions he’s feeling merciful enough to let you wander.

But, that didn’t eliminate the possibility. Boredom only fed your curiosity, gave you the time to search for things to prod the flames with, to find new ways of disrupting the few aspects of your life you were capable of impacting. Paper didn’t light, regardless of how many books you destroyed in your efforts, and there wasn’t a fire poker, an iron rod, nothing Diavolo thought you could’ve used to hurt yourself or him, not that you were naïve enough to try anything so blatant. Once, you might’ve let frustration get the best of you. It’d just been so tempting, and you’d been staving off the urge for weeks, at that point. It didn’t help that Diavolo was so determined not to let you get hurt, so adamant that anything his favorite human touched had to be soft and smooth and toothless. Part of you wanted it to hurt. Part of you was looking forward to the fact that it probably would. That part of you seemed to make itself rather scarce, though, when it actually did.

There’s a grate over the fireplace, now, and Diavolo still likes to dig his nails into the scar your curiosity saw fit to leave on your right hand, whenever you say you don’t need him.

You’d like to think it’s better, now that you know the hearth is real. You’re not free, and the awareness hasn’t done anything to help you escape your captor, but it’s nice to know the smoke isn’t just a figment of your imagination whenever it clouds the air, that the reason your vision’s clouding over and your eyes are tearing up might not just be because of the heavy hands around your neck, the sting of another puncture wound on your chest, the idle threats Diavolo likes to whisper when he’s in bad mood.

It’s nice to know it’s real, but the smoke does get overwhelming, when you let it. It’s the most noticeable when he’s around, when you’re not allowed to retreat to all the little corners and hiding places that let you block out the constant heat, the soft, insufferable sounds of burning wood caving in and crumbling under its own weight. He enjoys being close to you. Some days, he’ll catch you by the wrist, insisting that you perch yourself on the corner of his desk as he reviews the needs of his kingdom, commenting on the input of his advisors or news from the Celestial Realm, never asking you to answer questions you can barely understand. On others, his approach is more transparent, and you’re pulled into his lap, made to run your fingers through his hair and comfort him, even if the soothing words he’s taught you to say taste bitter on your tongue. During times like that, the smoke’s almost suffocating, only getting more thick and more smothering every time he lets out a sound that isn’t utterly, entirely pleased. He’s said it before, that he’s doing this for your safety, not his happiness, but you know better than to believe him, by now. Even if he always makes sure to kiss over the bruises, when he’s done.

It’s the worst, when he’s like that. His fingers digging into your hips, the meat of your thigh, his lips on yours and his teeth embedded in your collarbone, his usual care nowhere to be seen. You can try to focus on the mural painted across his ceiling, on your own frantic heartbeat, on anything but the man in front of you, but the smoke makes it difficult, always finding a way to wrap around your lungs and tighten whenever you manage to forget it’s there. It’s hard to breath. It’s hard to do anything but suffocate until you’re light-headed and dizzy and Diavolo decides you’ve probably had enough, or you’re crying hard enough to make the decision for him. It gets better, after that. There’s usually a bath, enough steam to clear the air, and he lets you hide your face, laughing while you cling to him, too scared to let go. Usually, he’ll comment on the change in your demeanor, make a joke about how easily you crack with a little affection, but you try to hope he’ll be kind enough not to, next time.

The fire’s still burning, by the time he carries you to bed. It’s the only time you don’t mind it, that gentle glow, the way it makes it just a little harder to see Diavolo’s face as he tells you how easily humans are worn down by even a gentle touch. Sometimes he goes on and sometimes he doesn’t, but that’s always when you stop paying attention, fading into the crackling he treats like background noise. It’s comforting, but at the same time, it’s agonizing. It’s only hurt you, it’ll never do anything besides hurt you, but at the same time, you can’t imagine going without that discomfort.

You hate it. Of course you hate it. You need to hate it.

But, at the same time, you don’t know what you’d do if it ever burnt out.

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lillian-lang · 3 years

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Zutarians, I need some help...

Happy Zutara week, y’all! I’m Lil.

I’ve been working on my fic for...awhile now, and I’m at the point where everything’s kind of turned into word salad. I’d like to finish this thing, soon, but I need editors - badly. So, if you’re one of those folks who can write. (And particularly if you can write Katara or Zuko’s voice really well.) Please, please take a look. Friendly feedback is welcome!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25653406/chapters/62276836

And here’s an excerpt from a Zutara moment below the cut:

Katara looks out from high up in the north wing of the palace—reserved especially for the royal family and their guests. She can see across acres of bleak concrete pavement leading up to the palace gates and, behind them, the jagged volcano walls of the capital city rising in the distance. It isn’t a particularly comforting sight.

Fifty-six bacui berry, fifty-seven bacui berry, …she counts to herself. Until, finally, she reaches one hundred bacui berry, and turns away from the gray window, back towards Azula’s wide canopy bed. The princess’s mouth hangs open and a trickle of drool spills out, but otherwise, she looks better than she had an hour ago. Katara removes the last acupuncture needle from her wrist and places it onto a gauze pad, which she rolls up and hands to Zuko.

“These need to be sterilized in a white-hot flame for twenty minutes before they can be used again,” she instructs.

Zuko puts a hand up to the bundle. A flame appears at the center of his palm. “Do you want me to just—?”

“Sorry Zuko, but you’re not hot enough,” she says, without thinking.

The corners of his mouth flicker upward into the kind of smirk she hasn’t seen since his ponytail days. Spirits, he’s infuriating, she thinks—grateful that her skin is dark enough to hide a blush. She removes the rest of her supplies from Azula’s bedside and takes a seat by the window, trying to ignore the burning sensation of Zuko’s eyes lingering on the back of her neck. She forces herself to concentrate on the little vials and instruments in her hand, but it’s no good. Everything is in the wrong place. She’ll have to take it all out again and repack it later.

“Katara,” he says, coming up beside her at the window. “Did you ever read Love Amongst the Dragons?”

Katara shoots him a wry smile. “No,” she says. “Funnily enough, we didn’t have a lot of fire nation epics in our village library.”

“Azula made fun of me, but I always liked it.” He smiles a little to himself, then points, drawing Katara’s attention to a spot on the grim horizon. “Do you see that mountain, there? The one that curves?”

Katara shivers, drawing a little closer to Zuko. “The one that looks like a claw?” she asks.

He nods. “I know, it’s scary, isn’t it? If you believe the old story, it’s the claw of the great dragon, himself. It’s where the name of the district comes from — Kaa Garr. Great Dragon. And, right there where the mountain turns in on itself…” he moves his finger up the pane a little so Katara can see a black spot in the distance, “is the prison where I’m keeping my father.”

Katara lets out a little involuntary gasp and presses her fingers to her mouth. Zuko looks down at her, a wry glint in his eye. “If you thought my sister’s arrangements were bad,” he says, “you should see his.”

“I’m sorry,” is all she can think to say.

“Don’t be,” he shrugs. “You know my father isn’t exactly a nice guy. I didn’t get this scar on my face from a training accident, you know?”

“I know,” Katara says, reaching up to touch the edges of his burned skin with the practiced hands of a healer.

In truth, they had never really talked about how he’d gotten his scar, but Katara had heard rumors going all the way back to her time in the Fire Nation with Toph, Sokka, and Aang. Zuko allows her fingers to wander over his scar for a moment, tracing the lines and folds on the puckered skin. He gets lost for a minute in the phantom sensation—wondering if he’s only imagining the gentle pressure. It’s so tender and intimate that his breath catches in his chest for fear that a sharp exhale might disturb the delicate balance between them. But then Azula flops over in bed, bringing Zuko back to himself. He clears his throat, and Katara’s hand drops to her side.

“It just makes me wonder if I should be trying to help my father…you know…the way you’re helping Azula.”

Katara tries not to let her emotions show on her face. She does not believe for one second that Ozai is entitled to the same treatment as his daughter, but she also believes that, ultimately, the decision is Zuko’s to make.

“Do you think your father deserves a second chance?” She asks, trying to keep her voice even.

“No!” he shouts, raking his fingers through his hair in frustration. “That’s the problem, I don’t think he deserves it! But I can’t figure out why. I mean, he not that different from my sister, is he? But, every day, I felt guilty about Azula, and every day I’m grateful that my father is still locked up!”

Katara watches as Zuko paces back and forth across the antique carpet, winding himself up. “Then you came, and I feel better about Azula—I really do, Katara—but now I’m suddenly guilty about my father. I’m the fire lord, shouldn’t I at least be fair?”

“Zuko,” Katara says, holding out an arm to stop his pacing, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but when was the last time you had a bath? Or slept in a real bed?”

He blinks down at her, “Uh, it might have been a few days. Why?”

“I think,” she says, using her most soothing voice, “that all these big questions can wait for a day or two while you rest.”

He looks skeptical, but Katara insists: “Look at you, Zuko, you’re exhausted. I’m not saying that it won’t be difficult, but I promise it will all seem better in the m-morning.” As she says it, she stifles a yawn, and Katara suddenly realizes that she, too, is exhausted.

Noticing this, Zuko takes the medicine bag from her hand and, after checking all of Azula’s locks, leads her down the hall to her room. It’s hard to tell with Zuko, but he seems excited about something. The corners of his mouth keep twitching up, like he’s trying to hide a smile. The whole of the third-floor hallway smells like fresh paint, even though the hallways look the same as they’ve always been. It makes Katara’s head swim. When they arrive at what she assumes will be her bedroom here in the Fire Nation, Zuko throws open the door for her, and Katara gasps.

The room is in the style of the Fire Nation—a wooden chest for clothes, a low-slung writing table, and an imposing four poster bed, but the details are all Water Tribe. The walls are covered with bright blue paper depicting life in the poles. The furniture handles are all solid, gleaming mother of pearl. The bed is strewn with gigantic, fluffy pelts that could only have come from the south pole.

“What do you think?” Zuko asks, studying her face. “Is it too much? I had rooms made up for the Earth Kingdom and the Air Nation, too. I don’t want you to think I’m abusing your culture, but I do want my guests to feel welcome here. I know the Fire Nation royal palace isn’t anybody’s favorite place.” He winces, thinking about the terrible stain of his father’s legacy.

Katara considers Zuko kindly. He’s hovering just outside the room—neither in nor out. She realizes that she’s never felt more warmly towards the young fire lord.

“You’re a lot like your uncle, you know that?” she says, after a minute.

Katara watches as his guarded features break into a genuine smile. “Thanks,” he says, running his fingers along the edge of the doorframe. “You know I was hoping you or your brother would be the first ones to use this room.”

“You’re lucky it’s me! Sokka would be jumping on the bed, already.”

Zuko laughs, and Katara grins with pride. It’s not easy making Zuko laugh.

“I didn’t even ask!” He says, eagerly. “How is Sokka? And Aang?”

Now it’s Katara’s turn to look guarded. “Sokka’s fine,” she says, trying to keep her voice neutral. “He’s angry because he can’t go to Ba Sing Se without Appa…” Then, anticipating Zuko’s next question, Katara explains everything in a rush: “Aang left for Omashu. He got a letter from Bumi saying that the city was unstable, and he left me and Sokka behind.”

Zuko’s reaction is not what Katara expects. His eyebrow furrows, and he lets out a troubled groan, so sharp and low that Katara can almost feel the reverberations in his chest. “Katara…Bumi is dead. He died about a week ago. Didn’t Aang tell you?”

“Oh,” is all Katara can manage. She plops herself down at the end of the bed and looks up at Zuko, dazed. “No, Aang hasn’t written to me since he left for Omashu.” The admission earns her a sharp sideways glance, but she doesn’t notice. She’s too wrapped up in thoughts of the Earth King.

“What happened?” she asks.

“I don’t know,” he admits, lowering himself down beside her on the bed. “The Fire Nation has…informants…in Omashu, but I haven’t heard from them in a few days.” The way he hesitates before the word ‘informants’ makes Katara wonder if he is uncomfortable having spies in the Earth Kingdom. Zuko had always preferred fair-play and transparency, even at his own expense.

“But you have suspicions,” she presses him.

He nods. “To tell you the truth, I’m glad Sokka’s not in Ba Sing Se right now.”

“Why not?” Katara gasps, “It’s not unstable, too, is it?”

“No,” he says, resting his head against the bedpost and letting his eyelids droop. “At least none of my advisors seem to think it is. I’m the one who has an issue. And it’s only a feeling, Katara…”

“Because of Kai Kozu?” she asks.

Zuko’s snaps to attention so quickly that he sprains his neck. “Where did you hear that name?” he growls.

“Bumi wrote about him in his letter to Aang,” Katara explains.

“Ah, that makes sense,” Zuko says, rubbing the sprain. “Kai Kozu used to keep a pretty low profile. Barely anyone outside the Earth Kingdom had ever heard of him… But lately he’s been moving more and more into the public eye. I don’t like it. He’s already got power in Kyoshi and Chin. It wouldn’t surprise me if he had plans for Omashu and Ba Sing Se, too.”

“Oh no! Zuko!” Katara’s hand flies to the reassuring carvings on her mother’s necklace, and she traces them apprehensively. “What about Toph and Suki? What about your uncle? Isn’t he still in the city?”

“I did write to them,” Zuko shrugs. “I asked them to stay here in the palace, but Toph and Suki are out in the country somewhere. I can’t reach them.”

“And your uncle?”

“Uncle doesn’t want to leave his tea shop. And besides…” Zuko blushes brick red, “I think he might have a lady friend in the city. He’s acting like a love-sick teenager.”

Katara watches as Zuko drags his fingers through his hair, tugging at the ends. “You’re really worried about this, aren’t you?” she asks.

“I am,” he admits.

Katara leans back into the mountain of fluffy pillows and soft white furs, and closes her eyes—too tired to care that Zuko is still watching her. She says a silent prayer for Toph, Suki, and Iroh in Ba Sing Se, and thanks every spirit she can name for her father’s stubbornness. At least she knows Sokka is safe in the Southern Water Tribe—far, far away from the Earth Kingdom capital…

As she drifts off into sleep, she reaches out to feel Zuko’s warm body beside her—his chest rising and falling evenly. She draws a little closer, and he opens his arms wide to make room for her. She pillows her head in the crook of his arm and breathes in a scent like something out of a dream. In fact, she thinks it must have been a dream, because when she wakes up in the night he is gone, and the spot where she imagined he had lain is awash with moonlight.

#zutara #zutara week #wip #y'all please help

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carry-on-my-wayward-butt · 4 years

Note

He did? Umm.. what happened exactly?

(referring to this post)

my 11th grade chemistry teacher had an associates degree in liberal arts.

you know how in virtually every class you’ve ever had since middle school, your teachers made a big stink about the syllabus? she didn’t have one. this was her first teaching job, which she got because of her length experience as a substitute, not by her licensing qualifications. we were, at first, excited to have her, because she was a “fun sub” and we were 17 years old and stupid as all shit. we were the “normal chem” class in a system where the only other options were “honors chem” which was filled with children who actually know how to study (or cheat) and have an air of proper student activity, and “AP Chem”, which is clear enough if you’ve been an american student in the last 15 years.

she followed the mcgraw hill chemistry book in order of chapters, despite the fact that our state standardized tests did several of the chapters out of order. ever notice how you’ll suddenly be looking at chapter 11 when just last week you were on chapter 5, then the next week you’re on chapter 8? standardized testing is the reason. anyways by asking my friends in other classes who had chemistry teachers of relative competence, i was able to discern which chapters i should focus on, and while she was distracted with literally watching youtube videos all period, I was turning around in my seat and walking across the classroom helping my friends and enemies with the packets. (she was a two-packets-a-week kinda teacher.)

yes i said enemies too. the people i hated, i hated because they were sons of bitches i wouldnt piss on to put out a fire. i hated them so dearly i used to pray to god that they would bump into me so i could throw myself into the concrete and split my forehead open and get them expelled due to the blood-clause of our “zero-tolerance policy”. two of the kids in my class had, only the previous year, attempted to set my hair on fire.

i hated the teacher more.

it gave me extreme pleasure to see her fume and clench her fists when a student would say “i need help” across the classroom and she would move to get up and they would say “oh not you miss, im waiting for vicky.” jesus christ the only time ive ever felt a comparable high was when i was at a halloween party in college where i was literally so zooted i couldn’t move.

it got worse over time, her getting more and more angry, my ego growing larger and larger. i was a huge bitch in high school, i really thought i was the smartest bitch in the room at any given moment. severe main character syndrome. imagine that kind of person actually being right for 45 minutes out of every day. can you even comprehend the kind of frustration that would create? in a room full of little sociopaths who dont give a shit about anything but getting this joke of a class over with so they can graduate? your first real teaching job and they look right past you, the teacher, to this annoying little shit whose grades are completely abysmal? how are they managing to learn anything from a child who can barely speak in front of more than 10 people? who turns cherry red in the face of literally every authority figure in the building except you? who can’t concentrate and stay still in one spot for more than five minutes? all of your other classes behave! they listen! they sit down and shut up and do the packets! so what fucking gives!!!

so you say “fine, since you all HATE ME so much i just won’t teach then!!!” on literally week fucking ten of teaching. and instead of prostrating themselves before you, begging you to like... point at transparencies and read directly from powerpoints i guess.

and they all collectively say “okay” and let the chipmunk child flutter between desks and help them memorize formulas and mnemonic devices and shit. surely her grades will suffer if she’s constantly dealing with other people and you’ll have justification that her horseshit is “distracting” and “a detriment to her studies”. she got bored gave up on that after two days after nothing changed.

then we did the midterm.

except at the end of the exam packet was something we never learned because again, she was going through the book chronologically. because i actually enjoyed the chem book (so much that i stole it when the year was up lmao), i knew the material.

it was about lewis dots/structures. i couldn’t tell you a damn thing about it today but in december 2010 i absolutely knew that shit. i didnt have too much of a problem with it in the exam, but the students who had gotten to that point were complaining and at first she pulled that “you should have been studying independently uwu” shit but the class was about to get loud during exam period so she shushed us and said that when we get to that point, just stop, and she’ll mark it correct during grading, no harm no foul just keep it quiet. one of the more confrontational students called horseshit and said theres no way we’re trusting that and there’s definitely no way anyone will keep an entire classroom cheating at the instruction of the teacher quiet.

i offered to teach it.

she scoffed, rolled eyes, said “sure fine but you can’t get your exam back” and i said “okay.” so when everyone was to the point in the exam, we piled them all on her desk and i used the whiteboard to briefly and quietly explain lewis dots, used the book examples and problems, and helped the other kids understand. there were a couple exam questions that were lifted straight from the book problems so i skipped those. while teaching i realized i had gotten a couple wrong which sucked :( it was an incredibly stupid experience overall, and no teacher worth the paper their certification is printed on would have allowed that to happen. and fucking yet.

anyways everyone but me got their exams back and finished it and many of us passed, only a few of them did particularly well.

discussing the chem exam with friends who also took the chem exam, many students found their anecdote about the lewis dots to be confounding, for you see, the exam we took was not, in fact, the midterm, but the god damned final.

she had us taking the fucking final because she didnt read the fucking folders which read “midterm” and “final exam” on them

she was reprimanded severely and we all had to take the exam on different days, in different classrooms, sitting very far apart. after that she hated me even more. like girl it was your fault lmao i am literally a teenager grow up lol. anyways you can imagine how much more fucking insufferable i became, knowing how miserable she was.

it all came to a head in february when some students were giggling quietly following a minor fuck up on her part regarding bellwork. they were making fun of her like “are you sure thats not tomorrows bellwork lol” and a friend next to me did the “hey i need help wait no miss not you sorry” thing and when i answered him, she solidly snapped. blah blah YOURE SOOOO DISTRACTING blah blah YOU THINK YOURE SOOOO SMART DONT YOU blah blah blah and she was like demanding i leave the room and shouting at the top of her lungs at me “ YOU POISON THE MINDS OF EVERY OTHER STUDENT HERE. YOU’RE POISONOUS VICTORIA, YOU’RE A VIRUS IN THIS CLASSROOM.”

i will never forget that line as long as i live. it was like crack to me. i moved to open the door to leave and the vp opened it first. he escorted me to the office and asked me what happened, then told me to keep my head down in class from now on, and that if i wanted to help my friends i should give them my number and help them out on our own time. i was like “bro thats really stupid” and he was like “thats all we can do right now but i promise we’re working on it”

i lasted the rest of the year giving smug smiles as we did packet after fucking packet for the rest of the year. they were all take-home work. i wasnt comfy giving my number to my enemies. the class camaraderie ended.

the final was altered. my class took a different final than the rest of the normal chem classes.

i started 12th grade and got a solid case of senioritis. i told that story to anyone who would listen. while it was happening, i obviously told my favorite teacher everything as it happened. when i mentioned it senior year he was like “oh yeah i forgot about her,

she was fired over the summer.”

#let me tell you bitch i SCREAMED......#anyways im not sorry this was long #its literally the only cool thing thats ever happened to or about me so shrugs #Anonymous

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itsuki-minamy · 3 years

Text

PROFILE: YATOGAMI KUROH

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

Real name: Yatogami Kuroh

Terms of address: Kuro, Black Dog

[PROFILE]

Birthday: January 5, Capricorn

Blood type: A

Age: 19 (At the beginning of the second season)

[APPEARANCE]

Physique: 1.78 cm in height. Trained and slim body. His back is stretched out.

Face, hair: A face with solid lines. He has long black hair tied behind his head.

Attire: Long hem, padded black collar coat.

Personal effects: A famous "Kotowari" sword. A voice recorder with Miwa's words. A trunk full of kitchen utensils so he can always cook.

[HABITS, SKILLS]

· Superhuman body surgery. Wushu type movement. Power to manipulate space.

· Good at housework.

· What it means is based on Miwa's word that is played back by a voice recorder and listened to.

[IMPRESSION, OTHER NOTES]

· The image color is "black".

· The image of the "Chungyu dog".

[POSITION, OBJECTIVES]

After serving as a servant to the former "Colorless King" Miwa, he became a servant to Isana Yashiro, who was the "Silver King".

In the past, he was blindly respecting Miwa, and after his death he thought that his mission was only to fulfill his life, but through his encounter with Shiro, his spiritual trust in him made him want to help Shiro of his own free will.

Admitting Shiro, he decides that his sword must be wielded for Shiro's sake.

Known to other clans by the name of "black dog", he is famous for being a faithful servant with strong fighting skills. Currently, he is considered to be Shiro's heart along with Neko.

[PERSONALITY, CONDUCT]

Stupid samurai guy. He is just and cannot bear injustice. He is inflexible and easy to fool.

Meeting Shiro may give him a bit more personality, but he is still serious, capable, and uncompromising. The emotional expression is clumsy, but if you look closely, it is easy to understand.

He is sincere and direct, he does not like conflicts, but he does not hesitate in the fight. Basically he acts on the basis of worldly morals, but when belief trumps him, like when it comes to killing Shiro, he easily deviates from common sense.

A guy who takes good care of food and people. He has no choice but to take care of Neko's bad behavior and Shiro's poor nutrition distribution. Mom attributes.

Nature that he is not aware of nature itself. However, it does not mean that there is no public knowledge, socializing with others is done normally, and the elderly and children often like it.

It is not that the air is unreadable, but it is not that it does not understand the subtleties of a person's emotions, and that it does not limit his actions by the complexion and attitude of others.

There is no compromise with respect to the ideal, and he strives rigorously there. However, he is kind to others. Evil has no mercy and he is kind to the weak.

He has a great ability to get work done quickly and to do housework. He has an awkward nature, but has excellent setup and paperwork.

Basically his personality is moderate, but when he talks about Miwa, he gets too hot and shows a side that is said to be tough.

[FATE, ENDING]

Like a member of the Silver Clan, like Shiro's sword, he fights while overcoming his weak points.

[ABILITIES, TACTICS]

A space operation ability that distorts space with the right palm. Martial arts and transfer techniques that combine it. When he doesn't get out of the way, he holds his sword at his waist with his left hand and fights with his right hand.

Throw and support things. The image of a transparent outstretched arm in anime. He can take out a sign or pull Yata, which should be quite strong, within reach of him.

He gains power by gaining the power of the Silver Clan, and gains more power by breaking hesitation in battle against his teaching brother, Mishakuji Yukari.

From the movie version on, he will overwhelm "reason" of his own free will. He decides that the sword should not be used for himself but for Shiro, and will hone his sword arm through the confrontation with Mishakuji Yukari.

[POWER]

B + (Higher rank of the clan's executive class.)

[LIKES]

His favorite food is fried eggs. There is no like or dislike for food in general, and the act of eating is very important. He also likes to do it. It is important to eat. Eat fish very carefully. No rice or grains left. There is a fragrance word, but the character from the beginning is great too.

[DISLIKE]

Be bent. Something in the middle.

[HOBBIES]

Kitchen. General housework. Self-discipline like swords. However, in the end, both cooking and housework achieve self-discipline. He is constantly updating books and studying efficient housework and delicious dishes in books and online. He is delighted to make efforts to reach higher places.

He does not have the hobbies of collecting something or playing sports. It is only related to self-improvement.

[FASHION]

He was wearing a black coat with a padded collar. He is not very interested in fashion itself. There's no resistance unless it's clean, light, and fluffy, but he basically chooses plain clothes over flashy clothes. He also likes Japanese clothes. At Ichigen's residence, there were plenty of work clothes for everyday use.

[BODY]

He looks slim but has a well-trained body and is very healthy. He has excellent athletic ability.

[INTELLIGENCE]

Although he is a high school graduate, he has been taught various things by being a good and elite college student, and since he read Miwa's extensive book collection, he is not lacking in knowledge. The logical thinking is quite excellent. However, he is not a smart guy because his thoughts tend to be rigid and lacking in flexibility.

Also, experience-based things such as cooking, chores, cars, helicopters, and unique machines are missing. Most of them were learned from Miwa, short-term learning with someone, or learned by himself. Carpentry and civil engineering jobs are also skillfully done.

If taught, he can do most things. If he feels like it, he can become a craftsman.

[BELIEFS]

In any case, it is a maintenance system. He treats God and Buddha with a pious attitude, but does not believe in it positively. Miwa's teaching is higher than that.

[RELATIONSHIPS]

[EARLY YEARS]

The family dies in an accident. In addition, the family members who took charge also died in a fire. After that, he was taken over by a distant man and abused, but he was picked up by Miwa when he left his house. He had a place to live in the village and he grew up there.

[TIMELINE]

· 1994, Kuro Yatogami is born.

· 2000, Kuro loses his family.

· 2002, Kuro met Miwa Ichigen and was picked up.

· 2004, his apprentice brother Yukari abandons Miwa.

· 2005, Kuro flourishes with Miwa as a member of the clan.

· 2012, September, Former "Colorless King", Miwa died.

· 2012, December, he Meets Isana Yashiro.

[ATTITUDE AND THOUGHTS TOWARDS OTHERS]

[TERMS OF THE ADDRESS FOR HIMSELF]

The first person is "Ore".

The second person is "Kisama" for people and enemies he doesn't trust, "Omae" for a small flank, and "Anata" for people he respects and common third parties.

[TOWARDS ISANA YASHIRO]

He calls him "Shiro" or "Omae".

He became a subject in a term, but his attitude towards him is completely different. Almost equal. Rather, he can be scolded or angry, so Kuro may be in a higher position. However, in the heart of him, he has firmly found Shiro's respectable point, and stands here on the point.

He has a lot of affection for loved ones, and he can put it in various ways, but he also believes that Shiro is both his "King" and his companion. There is a growing awareness that he is a member of his clan, including Neko, and that he is like family.

[TOWARDS NEKO]

He calls her "Neko" or "Omae".

She is like an expensive sister, a trusted companion, and a fighting friend. Both eyes look at Shiro. If she has a purpose to move, even if they argue with each other, they quickly fight together. Also, since there are many scenes where they acted alone after losing Shiro and until he returned, the level of closeness between the two of them has increased.

[TOWARDS MIWA ICHIGEN]

He calls him "Ichigen-sama".

He still has deep respect and adoration. He still listens to the tape recorder full of words on a regular basis, but it's because he's homesick, rather than because he's asking him to guide. It's less frequent than used to be, but it doesn't mean that Miwa is a thing of the past; An image that is properly stored in an important place in the heart of him. Miwa's existence and way of thinking is a guide on a key point, but it is imprinted on Kuro's mind without relying on the tape recorder any more.

[TOWARDS MISHAKUJI YUKARI]

He calls him "Mishakuji Yukari". (He used to call him "big brother" (Aniue) when Mishakuji was with Miwa.)

He used to respect him as a brother and even admire him. However, he is angry that he raised his sword against Miwa and abandoned him, and he continues to have uncomfortable feelings. He is also angry that Yukari joined the Green Clan, a clan that confuses the world, but he is aware of his weakness and irreverence in mixing Yukari as an enemy. Yukari's idea was beyond Kuro's comprehension, but it still seems like he got his way.

#k #k project #k fan clan #yatogami kuroh #profile yatogami kuroh

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bts-storys · 3 years

Text

Bathing a bomb (m)

Author: bts-storys

Pairing: Seokjin x Reader

Rating: mature content, 18+

Genre: Strangers to lovers/ Lush Store AU/ Smut

Word Count: 5,901

Summary: Your job at the Lush store isn’t what you would call extremely exciting. That is until one customer just won’t stay out of the shop. And for that matter he won’t stay out of your head either.

Warnings: oral (female receiving), fingering, dirty talk, graphic description of sex, penetration, lots of stuff with hands, because I feel like that's what lush is essentially about, Seokjin being handsome as ever, some daydreaming about a shower

A/N: I changed my narrative perspective a bit, I hope everything sounds better now. I won't lie, this piece gave me a real hard time, so happy so present to you what I worked on the last weeks.

„Damn it! “

You flinch when you hear an angry voice right on the other side of the wall, sitting upright again in the process. The door bursts open and someone marches right into the break room.

“Are you okay, June?”, you carefully ask your co-worker. When you catch a glimpse at her hands you cock an eyebrow. “Did you touch the lilac soap again?”

“Yes, for god’s sake!”, she grumbles while digging in her bag. “I hate this damn allergy!”

“I told you to wear some gloves or at least call me to take care of it instead”, you say in a judging tone.

“I know, I forgot them. And you’re on break Y/N!” She looks at you with an apologetic expression while opening a jar of cream from her bag.

You laugh. “Well I was until now. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of the customers and you do something about your hands, you look like an angry lobster.”

You put your coffee aside and your customer smile back on your face. Walking through the door, the overwhelming smell of hundreds of different scents washes right over you. When you first started working at the Lush store a few months prior, you found yourself with a headache at the end of every day from smelling so much all the time. When you had told June about it, she gave you a painkiller and assured you it would get better soon. She was right at the end and you grew into loving all the different scents. Nothing relaxes you more than the familiar fragrances in the store after a hard day of studying. You shake your head to get rid of the memory.

Even though June had been working here far longer, she just can’t deal with her lilac allergy due to her extreme stubbornness. Nara, your other co-worker is talking to a customer so you get back to one of the shelves and finish putting in the soap. Right at the last piece, someone behind you makes a coughing noise.

“Ehrm- Excuse me?”

You turn around. The speaker is a tall guy at least one head-length taller than you. He has broad shoulders and the most handsome face you have ever seen. His skin has a perfect shine as if he uses the exact right amount of moisturizer every day and his head looks perfectly shaped. His black hair matches his dark coat and the pair of boots he wears. His body-position gives off a high level of self-confidence, much contrary to his worried expression. His complete appearance is quite overwhelming and it takes you a second or two to get over yourself.

“Hi, what can I do for you?”, you smile at him.

He smiles back at you and you feel your heartbeat increase. “I was wondering… how many different bath bombs do you sell at the moment?”

Inwardly, you let out a sigh. Chances are pretty small, a handsome man like him would ask about bath bombs without the intention of giving them to a boyfriend or girlfriend. On the outside you maintain your customer smile.

“Right now, we have 20 different types of bath bombs here at the store. Do you have a specific fragrance you’re looking for?”

“N-No, not exactly. I want all of them…please.”

You look at him with confusion. “You want to buy every bath bomb in this store?!!”

“No!”, he quickly corrects. “I want to buy one of every type, if that’s possible.”

You start to laugh.

“I’m so sorry”, you tell him after getting a hold of yourself. “Of course, that’s possible, let’s grab a basket for you.”

He sends you a smile that gets right to your core. “Don’t worry, I know that it's a weird request. You have a cute laugh though.”

You feel your cheeks heat up, quickly turning around, reminding yourself that he is still a customer.

“Thank you, Sir. Let’s get to those bath bombs.”

“It’s Seokjin, actually. Please don’t call me ‘Sir’.”

You hide your surprise behind a straight face. “Okay Seokjin, follow me, please.”

You get to the counter where the bath bombs are stored, aware that he is right behind you. While filling the little basket with colorful shapes, you just can’t resist the curiosity.

“Soo, is there a reason to your special request?”, you ask him while scanning the stacks for more bombs.

“Um, I guess I just want to know what color they would produce. You know, all together.”

You turn around again, seeing him gulp.

“You want to use them all at once?” You try not to sound like you are laughing at him again, maintaining a neutral expression. “I’m finished by the way, so follow me to the checkout, please.”

You get behind the cash register, scanning the items before dropping them into a bag.

“Should I pack them as a gift?”, you try asking without raising his suspicion. Maybe he is still getting them for his SO or whatsoever even though it seemed like he was flirting with you for a brief moment.

“No, thank you”, he says, looking right into your eyes. The dark brown of his iris seems to pull you in, until you snap out of it after a few seconds. He pays and takes the bag from your hand. His gaze lingers on your form behind the apron you are wearing and you feel your breath hitch for a second.

Then the moment is over.

“Thank you for your kind consultation, Y/N.”, he says with a look at the tag on your shirt. At the mention of your name, you feel heat shooting through your body like he just set you on fire. Suddenly, you find it difficult to concentrate when he gives you one last look and leaves the store.

“DID GOD SEND US AN ANGEL TO GET 20 BATH BOMBS?!”, you hear June yell behind you.

“Who the hell was that, Y/N?”

“That was Seokjin and he wants to know what color they would produce all at once”, you answer like you’re in a trance.

“He WHAT- now?!”

For the next few days you try not to think about Seokjin too much. To tell the truth, you fail miserably. The main reason to that is certainly June who just won’t let go of the story, but if you are honest, you think about him as well. Even without her help. Seokjin piqued your interest and you want to know more about him.

You even start looking him up on social media in your work breaks but either he doesn’t have any public appearance or your fbi skills just aren’t good enough to find him.

The next week starts without any major events if you don’t count the old man who tries to eat a whole bar of shower soap and the middle-aged woman who just won’t understand the usage of a massage bar. After the third attempt of explaining she doesn’t need a lighter for the process, she just leaves and you try to stay calm. Suddenly, you hear someone call your name from behind.

“Hey, Y/N.”

You turn around and immediately feel like you’re not ready for the sight you’re greeted with. Seokjin is wearing a white, half-transparent shirt with long sleeves combined with skinny black pants.

They look too tight.

Your lungs feel tight too.

He even remembered your name. And how the hell are you fangirling over someone you only met once before?! A quick look around shows that both Nara and June are busy with customers so you pull yourself together and return his smile.

“Seokjin. How can I help you today?”

For a moment he looks a bit lost but quickly recovers.

“I loved how everything smelled the last time I was here, so I thought I’d get something else. You do sell shower gel, right?”

“Yeah, of course”, you say, turning around to get to the other side of the shop. While walking in front of him you try to relax your shoulders a bit.

Arriving at the shower themed area you try to get back to being professional again.

“Do you have anything special in mind? Maybe some ingredient you like?”, you ask him while scanning the stacks.

Your gaze comes to a halt when you spot a sign right next to his handsome face saying “prince charming”. Normally, you love the shower gel that is advertised, but right now you curse whoever chose its name. The real prince charming in front of you has the audacity to smirk at your irritation.

“I like products that smooth my skin when I’m in the shower”, he says looking you dead in the eye. “Maybe something that feels good when you apply it.”

You can’t do anything about it, the picture just appears in front of your inner eye. Seokjin standing in the shower, water floating over his shaped body. He rubs his damped skin with nourishing oils, his lips sinfully parted. His body looks perfect surrounded by the steam from the hot water. You visibly shudder.

“Are you cold?”, Seokjin asks, bringing you back to reality.

“N-No!”, you hastily say. Quickly, you grab a bar with a minty color from the shelf, showing it to him.

“What about this one? It’s really good for your skin, it’s based on natural ingredients.”

He leaves you completely stunned when he takes your hand into his, bringing the bar to his nose. His palm is soft and warm, embracing your small fingers with his. You feel like you float and the feeling tingles. Every inch of your body is on edge, not missing a single second of the moment. His touch is light and gentle, giving you the opportunity to pull away. Obviously, you don’t. Further, you don’t even breathe until he lets go of you again.

“Yeah, it smells nice", he says. "I’ll take it."

Your wobbly legs take the two of you to the checkout, where you wrap the soap bar.

“Do you work here every day?”, Seokjin asks you casually. “If you don’t mind answering”, he adds.

“I don’t”, you smile. “I work from Monday ‘til Thursday after my college courses.”

He looks impressed. “You study and work at the same time?”

You laugh at his expression. “Something has to pay the rent, right? Also working here is more fun than it looks like.”

“I mean, if you like working in a giant flower meadow, then yeah”, he jokes. “What’s your major though?”

“International Management”, you say sheepishly. “Probably not the most interesting- “

“Awesome!”, he exclaims. “I work in the management area myself, you know.”

“You do?” Secretly, you had put him into modeling or maybe he really was an angel like June had noted multiple times.

“I work at a small music label with some of my friends”, he explains further. “Maybe we could- “

You don’t get to hear what he wants to say.

“Y/N? Can you please go and help June? I swear to god if she touches that damn soap one more time, I’ll tie her hands behind her back!!”, Nara shouts at you from the other side of the store.

“I’m sorry.”

You and Seokjin both apologize at the same time.

“Here’s your recipe”, you smile and hand him the package with his purchase.

“It was nice talking to you Y/N”, Seokjin says, giving you one last look before leaving the store.

You look at his broad back longingly before rushing to get to June before Nara can live up to her promise.

On Friday, you start your day off with working on an essay for your finance course. After finishing a couple of pages, you get ready to meet June at the fairground. Apparently, her roommate works there, selling crêpes which are “not from this world, maybe even from another galaxy”, as June claims.

At the end of the day you wonder if you may have lost some of your sanity, because on the weekend you can’t stop thinking about Seokjin at all. The picture of him touching your hands and looking at you in such a deep way seems to be burned into your brain. You also start to ask yourself if he feels the same about you. He must have felt something the second time he went to buy the shower bar. At least you hope he did. Maybe you’re completely out of place and he was just being himself? It’s not only the girls who get mistaken when they’re just being super nice, you remind yourself.

You could ask him out the next time he buys something. If there is a next time. Or would that be unprofessional at your workplace?

Without finding a solution to your problem, you nervously wait for the next workday to arrive. Who doesn’t arrive though is the person in question. June comments on your stiffness a few times but other than that nothing happens the entire week. You’re exhausted from studying and working afterwards but most of all from wondering if you will meet Seokjin again.

The next Monday comes and goes while your hope slowly dies. On Tuesday, you’re stacking up some massage bars catching yourself daydreaming. You can see Seokjin right in front of you. He’s wearing a dark blue sweater that makes a great contrast to his skin tone and reminds you of a deep ocean.

Only then you realize that he is indeed standing right in front of you. You’re not dreaming, you’re staring and it’s getting damn awkward.

“Seokjin!”, you screech, quickly trying to change to professionalism again.

“Hi, Y/N”, he says, completely oblivious to your thoughts. He’s really here, you think, getting more and more excited. It’s as if someone just lifted a grey filter and every color gets brighter again.

He points at the bar in you hand. “What’s that?”

“That’s a massage bar”, you say, happy he picked a topic other than you ogling him. “It can be used for a massage or as a body lotion after showering. It contains cocoa butter and mineral oils.”

The shower image comes to your mind again but you quickly shove it back.

“Sounds lovely”, he says and for a split second his gaze falls to your lips. At least you think it does. Internally you take a deep breath, working up some courage. “Do you want to try it?”, you ask in a rush.

He looks surprised but quickly recovers, nodding and pulling up one sleeve. You’re greeted with the sight of his slender hand and the visible veins running down his arm. Holding back a shiver while taking his hand you softly rub some of the product onto his skin. Then you start massaging the back of his hand with gentle strokes. Your gaze lingers for a moment and your heart most definitely skips a beat when you look up again. All the angelic features of Seokjins face have vanished. His eyes are half closed and he looks almost sinful. A small noise escapes his parted lips and you think you might faint.

It feels exciting and intimidating to touch him like this.

In the middle of the store you’re working at.

For each and every one to see.

When the realization hits you, you drop his hand in embarrassment. His eyes snap open and he looks equally as shocked as you are. He takes a step back in the same moment you find your voice again.

“I’m sorry, do you- eh do you like the product? Should I pack it for you?”, you ask, trying to deescalate the situation.

“Huh?” Seokjin looks at you like he sees you for the first time today. “Ah no, thank you! I-I think I need to leave, actually.”

Before you can even do so much as blink, he rushes out of the door. You’re left with the massage bar in your hand and your heart at your feet. How come you didn’t notice it was involved until now? Why did he leave, did you do something wrong?

You feel like you’re about to cry but fight it successfully. Okay, maybe you did develop a crush on a customer. And maybe some part of you was convinced that it was mutual and Seokjin had a thing for you as well. Obviously, he had not.

The last time someone ran from you as fast as he did was at a fetching game in elementary school. Either way, now is definitely not the time to dive further into your feelings. While leading another customer through the store, June brushes your shoulder.

“What the hell did just happen?”, she whispers, keeping up her façade smile at the same time. You just shake your head, unable to answer because honestly you don’t know. Maybe you did cross a line but at the same time you felt like Seokjin had actually liked it.

The rest of the shift you work on auto-pilot. Your customer smile never fades but inside you feel empty. Even if you had interpreted every sign Seokjin gave you wrong, you felt as if there was a connection between the two of you. How could you be so false about that?

By the end of the day you feel exhausted, looking forward to crying in some of your pillows. Maybe there’s still ice cream left in your refrigerator. A miserable scene starts playing in your head and you quickly shake it off, as you finish cleaning the last counter.

“I’m heading home, okay?”, you exclaim, earning a thumbs up from Nara and a worried look from June. Luckily, she stays silent giving you the space you need right now. With your jacket and bag draped over one arm you leave the store. It’s dark outside but still pretty warm. Only a few people are out, most of them heading home as well now.

Maybe the rejection will hurt less in a few days, you think to yourself. Just as you turn around the corner, someone tall bumps into you. You squeak and jolt backwards when you realize who you just ran into. Seokjin. It had to be him out of all people. A thousand different thoughts cross your mind.

How do you react? What is he doing here? Did he come back to talk to you? Should you be angry at him?

Your stupid heart betrays you by skipping a beat and then starting a race in your chest. Still, it starts to hurt just as much when you hear his voice again.

“Y/N!” He seems to be just as surprised as you are. “Shit, I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

Even with a shocked look on his face he’s still gorgeous and you feel like crying again. Avoiding his gaze, you look down and realize that he’s waiting for an answer.

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine don’t worry.”

Even a total stranger would notice the shakiness of your voice. You really need to escape this situation. Now.

“Look, I’m okay. I’ll just head home now, so… have a great evening.”

You awkwardly try to shuffle past him but he catches your arm holding you back.

“No, please wait!”

He’s so close now that you can smell his cologne. Something really sweet mixed with soap that makes you want to get closer to him. Instead, you try to free yourself from his grip. You still don’t know why he left earlier and it hurts being near him.

“Let me go please, I need to- “

“Just listen to me, I swear I’ll make it quick!”, he interrupts you.

His voice sounds really desperate which is why you feel yourself slowly nod.

“I owe you an apology for what happened today.” After his first words the scene starts to play in your head again and you slightly stiffen at the memory.

“I’m really sorry that I just left like that. It wasn’t your fault at all, I was just- you know I- shit this is embarrassing.” He sighs, stumbling over his own words.

By now you’re even more confused than before.

“I don’t understand”, you say. “Why did you leave?”

Seokjin runs a hand through his hair. You can see that he’s frustrated but you don’t know why.

“Ah, fuck it”, he mutters under his breath and then looks right into your eyes.

“The first time I came to the store, it was because I lost a bet with my friends”, he admits in a rush. “I felt stupid and embarrassed, but you were so nice and extremely cute so the next time I came, it was because I wanted to see you again.”

The world stops spinning. At least you feel like it does, because you’re suddenly out of air after his confession. He came to see you?

Not noticing any of this, Seokjin continues.

“I know, it may sound really creepy, I realize that, but you seemed to be having a good time as well, so I figured you felt the same?” At this he pushed his fingers through his hair again. It’s an irritating gesture because you know you shouldn’t stare at them like you do right now.

A tiny part of you wishes he would touch you instead.

“One time I almost asked you out, but we got interrupted and I lost my courage, I guess. And when I saw how shocked you were today after what happened, I just thought that I completely misinterpreted everything. I didn’t want you to feel pressured if you really don’t feel the same, that’s why I left. So- yeah, I realize now that I probably acted like an idiot. I’m sorry.”

“You were an idiot, that’s true.”

Seokjin looks startled.

Gaining courage, you openly smile at him.

“I feel the same about you”, you softly say. “Talking to you is so easy, I feel like I could do it all day. I’m sorry I reacted like this back in the store, I just remembered where we were and you’re a customer…I panicked.”

You take a deep breath.

“And when you left, I felt devastated. One moment you’re there and it’s going great and we're touching and the next second you run off. It just hurt…” Your last words are only a whisper escaping your lips.

At some point during your confession, Seokjin decided to take a step closer, now standing only inches away from you and his scent is all around you again.

“So, you liked touching me?”, he asks with a small smirk on his lips. Those beautiful pink lips you want to feel so badly. You quickly nod, heat rushing through your cheeks.

“And Y/N”, he says while moving the last bit closer. “Do you feel like panicking right now?”

“I don’t think so. “

His lips are on yours in an instant. Everything becomes less important to the feeling of Seokjin kissing you. It’s as if the whole world went silent at once just so you won’t get interrupted.

When his thumb starts caressing your cheek, you part your lips, giving him access to your mouth. His tongue plays with your lower lip before licking into you softly. He tastes amazing and you feel yourself getting lost, when he suddenly pulls away.

“This is okay, right?” he asks, panting heavily.

Instead of answering, you pull him in again. This time it’s different though. The first kiss was sweet and new. This one is pure hunger. You feel your skin burn where he touches you on top of your shirt. In return, you let your hands wander beneath his blue sweater, tracing his skin with your fingers. Seokjin growls against your mouth.

He then starts to tilt your head so he can bring his lips to your neck. And boy, he knows what he’s doing. His lips place wet kisses on your sensible skin and when he starts sucking right below your ear, a tiny moan escapes your lips. At this you push lightly against his chest. Again, this is sadly not the right place. You’re still out on a street.

He takes the hint and stops kissing you. His lips look swollen and wet and you have to force yourself not to kiss him again. He opens his mouth, possibly to say anything including some stupid apology, but you quickly take his hand.

“Let’s continue this some place else. Maybe somewhere without an audience?”, you suggest.

Seokjin laughs, visibly relieved and starts pulling you into the direction he originally came from.

His voice seems darker than before. “I live right around the corner, we can go there.”

You hum in approval, not missing the fact that he doesn’t let go of your hand.

On the way to his apartment you keep up a small chat about some of your courses and the work Seokjin does. Still, you can feel the tension in the air between you. On the outside you maintain interested, when all you can think about is his skin against yours.

Finally, you arrive in front of a small building with a blue painted wooden door. Seokjin fumbles with his keys while you can only look at his beautiful hands. You crave his touch and the feeling of being in his arms. The door opens and he pulls you inside. A staircase later you’re in front of the apartment door.

“I do have a roommate, but he’s out of town at the moment”, he explains while unlocking the door. Inside the hall you don’t even get time to look at the furniture before Seokjin pushes you against the wall.

“God, you’re so beautiful”, he whispers right before he kisses you again.

His lips are rough, and you meet them with the same amount of hunger. After all, you missed them since the last touch. You can feel his hands on the back of your thighs when he suddenly lifts you up without missing a beat. His mouth is still working against yours but now you’re just too aware of a certain hardness between your legs that shoots heat through your spine.

You feel yourself getting wet and pray that he won’t notice.

When Seokjin flips his thumb over your hard nipple you can hardly hold back a moan. He searches for permission in your face and upon finding it, pulls your shirt over your head. He’s met with the sight of a mint green bralette hugging your breasts. When he’s teasing you again over the fabric, you’re forced to close your eyes, moaning his name in pleasure.

The next thing you feel is his mouth engulfing your nipple. It’s hot and wet and you automatically arch your back to get closer to the feeling. He swirls his tongue around you, drawing soft noises from your throat.

“Please don’t stop”, you beg while pulling at some soft strands of his hair.

“You’re driving me crazy, Y/N”, he admits. “I can’t wait to feel you.”

“Then don’t”, you simply say, tugging at the hem of his sweater. He complies, pulling it off and you gasp lightly at the sight of his naked torso. Your fingers trail down the lines of his shoulders and your lips connect again, this time it’s sweet and full of anticipation.

You can feel the wall behind you vanish as Seokjin starts walking towards his bedroom, never breaking the kiss. He lays you down on his bed as if you were made of glass and starts taking off your jeans in the same movement.

“Come and sit here, will you?”, he says.

You do as you’re told and when you meet his eyes again, you forget how to breathe. Seokjin is on his knees right in front of you, his black pants hanging loosely on his hips, his dark hair messy from your hands. You don’t even think he looks human anymore.

“Open your legs for me, princess.”

The new nickname makes you shiver, as well as the cold air meeting your wet panties as you comply. The man in front of you uses a long, slender finger to tug your underwear to the side and is rewarded with the sight of your glistening folds.

“You’re so wet princess, is this all for me?”

You moan as a response, unable to form a proper word in your head. No one has ever made you feel like this before.

Seokjin lowers his head and you lose every train of thoughts when you feel his tongue on you.

He licks up a stripe and your legs tremble out of pleasure. He starts sucking on your clit, leaving you a moaning mess, your hands grasping the sheets so you won’t lose balance.

Your breath hitches as Seokjin introduces a single digit to your entrance. His other hand is still holding you in place, while he works you up simultaneously with his tongue and finger. He starts pumping in and out faster, hitting your soft walls with every push. You’re on the edge, all you can think of is more, more.

“P-Please”, you say, breathing heavily. “I want to feel your cock inside of me. I need you. Now.”

He looks at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

“You think you can take me, princess?”, he asks while getting up.

You nod a bit nervous at the sight of Seokjin taking off his pants and boxers at once. He’s way bigger than you had imagined. Like the rest of his body even his cock looks perfectly shaped, his tip already wet with a few drops of precum. You bite your bottom lip, can’t help but stare at him in awe. It’s the first time you see him completely naked and you try to take everything in at the same time.

Seokjin starts to crawl above you, keeping eye contact while you shuffle back until you hit the bedside. He pulls you down again by your legs, bringing his lips to your ear.

“I keet imagining this moment since the first time we met. Your hands all over me, while I pound you into the mattress until you scream my name”, he whispers.

Your answer is a kiss. On his lips you can taste yourself, mixed with the same impatience you feel building up inside of you. You reach down, slipping a finger over the head of his cock, bringing it back up to your mouth. Seokjin looks like he’s about to choke. Next thing you know, your panties are abandoned and he’s rolling a condom on himself that just appeared out of nowhere.

“Look at me while I fill you up so good”, he demands as he positions himself at your entrance. You both sigh at the feeling of him entering you inch by inch. He pauses when he’s completely inside of you.

“How can you be so tight? Your little pussy was made for me, right princess?”

You feel your cheeks get red, but there is no time to be ashamed of anything.

When he starts moving, you can feel how big he really is with every push. Seokjin flips at your nipple again before his mouth is on yours again and your soft moans get mixed with needy whines. His left hand is stroking your curves, coming to a halt at your hip, to keep you in place while he starts to go deeper.

His lips find your neck and you mewl loudly when he bites down on it. The next second the short pain is gone as he licks over the hickey he just created.

All of the sudden, he lowers his pace and you feel him even more, stretching you out deliciously. With a small movement, he starts to hit you at a specific angle, still going slow and making you feel him all the way.

He presses light kisses behind your ear, whispering “You’re fucking gorgeous Y/N”.

And then you feel his hand between your legs.

Seokjin stops kissing you to look at your face as he starts stimulating your clit with his fingers while moving faster again. You moan uncontrollably at the pleasure that takes over you.

“P-Please!”, you choke out.

“What is it princess? You need to use your words. Tell me what you need.”

His hot breath is on your face. Never in your life has anyone made you feel so precious and vulnerable at the same time.

“Please, S-Seokjin! Make me cum, I need you!”, you whine, while he proceeds to push you to the edge with every hard plunge of his cock.

“Say my name again, princess, I’ll make you feel so good!” His clenched teeth tell you that he’s not far from coming himself. His fingers and the feeling of him bouncing in and out of you almost make you faint.

“Seokjin!”, you cry out and your world shatters as the orgasm rips through you. A few pushes after, you feel Seokjin spill himself into the condom.

You’re both painting heavily when he rolls off of you and you feel his gaze from the side.

You turn your head, giving him a soft smile and the look, he rewards you with, makes your face heat up again.

“I think that was the best sex I ever had”, you admit sheepishly, holding your breath for a few seconds before releasing it again.

Seokjin smiles his angelic smile and brushes a sweaty strand of hair behind your ear.

“Me too.”

For a moment you both remain silent. Then he clears his throat.

“I hope this isn’t too late, but I really meant what I said before. Will you go out with me Y/N?”

“Yes”, you say wholeheartedly. “I would love to. There’s only one last question I have.”

“And that is?”, he asks with a confused look.

“What color did that bathtub have at the end? You know, the one where you put all the bath bombs together?”

“Y/N, I swear to god…”, he says and the rest of the sentence is drowned out by your laughter.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading all of it! I'm still working on my smut writing skills, I hope you can see some improvement.

#bts #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts jin #strangers to lovers #fanfiction #kim seokjin #ficswithluv #btsgoldnet #bangtanuniversity

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mosshead-lover · 4 years

Text

The Snowflake & The Kitten

Shoto x Reader

Summary: It’s your first Christmas with the Icyhot. You know he shows little or no enthusiasm in the holidays. How will it end up after you go against your instincts and decide spend the Eve with him.

A/n: Hey y’all! Hope you had a fabulous Christmas. I wanted to post this in time for Christmas, but my lazy ass was well..busy procrastinating. Any ho, I'm a Lil late, but hope you like the Present :D

It was late evening, and you were strolling through the streets, slower than usual, observing the decorations on the buildings and homes. Christmas sure brightened up your otherwise mundane city. You go back to wondering the same thing that's been in your mind for so long, whether you should get him something and if yes, what should you? It's been almost ten months since you and Shoto started going out. If you had to point out one thing that you not necessarily liked about him(not until recently), it would be how minimal Shoto's reactions or expressions were, almost all the time. It just made it really difficult to gauge his likeness or dislike-ness towards something. It was hardly a problem or something that bothered you until you had to pick a gift for him.

*Buzz Buzz*

You have a new text message.

Jirou: Yo! Coming?

Y/n: Will be there in 5 min.

Jirou always played her gigs to you before she actually performed. This had become a ritual more of. You started walking faster, paying lesser attention to the decorations along the way.

Jirou rocked it, as usual.

"Are you sure you don't want to join?"

You Jirou and few other girls in the class who couldn't go home for the holidays had planned a night out. Jirou still couldn't digest that you were missing it. Her reaction was only normal considering the enthusiasm your boyfriend had towards holidays.

'I want to spend the holidays productively,'

is what he had told the last time holidays came up in one of your conversations.

"Yes." You replied with a hint of uncertainty.

"At least buy a tree and some decorations on the way. Pretty sure he wouldn't have put one up." Jirou sighed.

"You don't know that!" You defended, regretting it a second later.

Jirou shrugged.

Your head was filled with ambiguity. You knew Jirou wasn't the kind who joked around or even talked much. You knew there was weight to whatever she said. You draw the cell phone and type a quick message.

y/n: Hey, I am on the way and stopped by to get a tree. What size do you prefer?

*Buzz Buzz*

Doki: What tree?

You despised Jirou for a second for being so accurate. Was not bothering Shoto with the pressure of celebrating the best gift you could give? You wondered if it was too late to join the other girls.

Doki: Oh, I see. Whatever works for you.

You picked a tree small enough for you to carry and some decorations along with candy canes. You had forgotten about the Christmas present for him until you came across the headband section with cute cat ears. You bought a white one and read one. At the billing counter, you struggled, You still had time to put it all back. Maybe just have dinner and watch a movie like any other weekend and not bother your not-so-festive boyfriend. But, you made up your mind. There was no turning back now.

"Hi, y/n."

Shoto helped you with the shopping bags and the tree. You reluctantly unzipped your bag and took a white sweater out. It matched the one you were wearing. The couple-Christmas-sweaters that you drunk ordered three months ago. Before you could say anything, He checks the time and,

"Hey, the webinar that I was supposed to attend this afternoon? They postponed it to seven. It will take an hour, Hardly, okay? I'm sorry, but I hope you understand."

He rushed through his sentences.

"Oh! This is for me? Thank you"

He grabbed the sweater from your hands, pecked your cheek, and hurried to his room.

You crashed into the couch. He didn't even notice that you were wearing the same sweater. You sulked and buried your face in the couch pillow and let out an inaudible scream. You took a deep breath and reminded yourself why you wanted to do this in the first place. It was your first Christmas together. You had to make it memorable for both of you. Moreover, Shoto never got together with his family to celebrate anything. You couldn't blame him for not getting excited about the festival.

You decided to look at the brighter side of it. You had an hour to make the house Christmas friendly. You went and bought some more lights and bells, set up a tree, put the lights around. You had to go to his room a few times to get the stapler, tape etc., He didn't mind. You had time to modify the cat ears as well. You removed one of the ears and carefully sewed the other color ear to match his hair color. You took one last look at the setup. It wasn't much, but it was a pleasant sight. It was almost ten. He wasn't done yet. You were too hungry to cook, you'd end up eating, and eating without him was the last thing you wanted to do. You decided to stay away from the kitchen. You fired up the TV and started surfing through the channels. Another hour passed. You gave up and went to the kitchen to fix yourself a cup of coffee. You were too sleepy and didn't want to doze off.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, you heard his door open. You set your coffee aside and sat up. He was wearing the sweater. He wore an apologetic face that transformed into a delight when he saw the tree.

"There is .. on your.."

Before you could process what he was implying, he bent down and cleared the foam mustache above your lips with a kiss.

"Coffee? at this hour?"

Shoto spoke up softly as he settled down next to you.

"I had to stay up, so..

”Did you eat?” He sounded tired too.

"No..I.."

He widened his eyes as a mother would, reacting to her kids skipping meals.

'Wait a minute, I am the one who should be mad!' You shouted on the inside.

"That was one heck of a long webinar." You comment, trying to suppress everything that you were feeling.

"I know." He acknowledges and takes you by your arm to make you sit on his lap. You put your legs on either side and sit on him, facing him.

"The fact that you were here, waiting, made it even more difficult for me." he continued as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

The sincerity in his voice was something you could never bypass and stay mad at him even if you wanted to.

"I am sorry."

"You are forgiven," you murmur and begin arranging his bangs. His face was ever charming against the constantly changing TV lights.

You both stayed there for a while, making out. You might have, longer if it wasn't for your grumbling stomach.

"You think that Soba place will still be open?"

You both go out and eat stomach full. Shoto offered to hold your hand on the way back. You were surprised as he never did that before. He always stayed away from PDA.

"It's too cold. I'm just keeping you warm." He justified.

"Besides, this way, there is a higher chance of people noticing that we are twinning."

You felt warmer as his heterochromatic eyes met yours. Your eyes dilated further at the sight of his tender smile. It was almost midnight when you reached home.

"Hey, It's almost Christmas." You squeak. You weren't worried about him being non-festive anymore. He reacts with an equally encouraging smile. As the clock struck twelve, you swing your arms around him and raise your toes, he helps by lifting you a bit, you kiss and wish him a merry Christmas.

"Merry Christmas to you too, y/n" He kisses you back and puts you down, gently.

"Hold on." He said and rushes into his room. He came back with two tiny boxes and placed them under the tree.

"Too Late?" You nod and join him to near the tree.

"Open!" his excitement was palpable. You carefully unwrapped the first box and saw a tiny glass slab covered in transparent resin shaped like a cuboid that was decorated to look like a charm.

On further inspection, you realized what was inside was a slide. You bought it closer to your eyes and tried to make out what was inside.

Shoto handed you a magnifying glass.

"Doki, Is this a ...?"

"Yes." He sounded proud.

"A real ...?"

"Yes."

You were awestruck.

"I didn't know Snowflakes can be preserved like this!"

You finally took your eyes off the charm and looked at him.

"Apparently, we can."He beamed a brighter smile, soaking in every inch of your reaction.

”And this way, an important part of me will always stay close to you."

He meant it. It was obvious from his tone and expression.

The present had exceeded all of your expectations. It was thoughtful, symbolized much more than Christmas. It was perfect. You were left speechless.

Shoto handed you the second box. Your vision blur from teary eyes. You managed to stop the tears and open it. It was a silver snowflake bracelet.

Shoto went on to explain it.

"Since the actual one is quite delicate and I couldn't morph it into a bracelet like I wanted to, I got this too, you know a ..."

You interrupted him the midway with a kiss, followed by another, and another.

He returns all your kisses with equal passion and holds you close.

He reaches out to grab his gift, you push away his hand, and take the present away from the tree. You felt so stupid. You were flustered with embarrassment suddenly.

"Hey, let me see it." He complains.

"No!" You exclaim and hide it behind your back.

"Why not?" He was confused.

"B..B...Because... It’s is not for you!"

"What?" He chuckles.

"Y/n... Are you sheltering someone else here without my knowledge?" He narrowed his eyes to look serious.

"Wh..what...No...I mean.."

Shoto pounced upon you and snatched the gift while you were in a state of confusion. You tried to snatch it back, but it was too late.

"Cat ears?" Shoto turned it back and forth, inspecting the band.

"Looks adorable. Should I put it on?" He asks innocently. You nod, still looking down.

"Like this?" You finally look up, and all your unworthy feeling lifts that just how adorable he looked. He smiles and brings his palms closer to his cheeks, trying to imitate a kitten. You almost had a nose bleed. Your reactions must have been so obvious, for he burst out laughing.

"Here, you try it on."

"No! don't you dare take 'em off!" You warn him.

"There is an extra pair." You beam ear to ear and get the other one. Of course, you had enough time to mend the other set.

After you pet each other, you take a bunch of photos together, you took his solo shots. Near the tree, in the kitchen, in front of the door, in the bedroom. You wanted to take a couple more, but you decided against it, reading the growing annoyance in his face.

Then you both sat by the tree, checking the cards he received. You were honestly a bit shocked to know he never went through them.

"Wow. Isn't this your sister?"

"Yes. and her Boyfriend." he eyes at the photo and gets back to his phone.

"They look so cute together!"

You were a little annoyed he wasn't paying attention to the cards. You snatch the phone to find him looking at the cat-ear pictures of you both.

"I think we look better." He states, unaffected by your barbaric snatching.

”We should use one of these pictures to send out cards”

You ruffle his hair and giggle, not because of the comments he just made. But because he could make such cheesy statements with a straight face.

Suddenly, you couldn't recall why you were worked up the whole day.

”Hey”

Shoto breaks the silence. You were on the couch, sitting between his limbs, as he wrapped his hands around you, warming you up and letting you rest on his chest.

”Um?”

”We should do this every Christmas”

”Do what?”

”You know, the tree, the matching sweaters, the cards...”

You chuckle.

”We will, Doki”

’Oh My baby Kitten, this is how Christmas is supposed to be!’

87 notes · View notes

asphuxia · 3 years

Text

/ * WHAT IS THE NATURE OF THIS DANCE CALLED MEMORY?

CW. suicide, death, self harm, general heavy / violent / graphic writing.

with thanks to friends that encouraged & helped read over it for me. :) please read it here for its original form as tumblr does not support my formatting endeavours. thank you!

YOU REMEMBER her.

the way she talked about you, her

smiling face

fingers curled through hair

her hand on the back of your head

( she cradles you as though you had never done anything wrong, )

it wasn’t your fault!,

to the fractals littering the floor, each transparent

gleam stained carmine; YOU broke this,

you grind your feet into the glass ——

( you bleed. it is not the first time. but in her arms, there is no pain. )

there is a silence, a loving sort of wordlessness,

( —- as though love could be more than an act of service, so mundane as a touch ;; )

and there is an unspeakable comfort in her embrace, as though you are meant to be here.

you raise your head to look at her

eyes, mouth, nose /

the upturned corners of her lips

( her hair is just like yours, )

( she looks like your mother — hel?

no: she does not smile as sweetly, not anymore. )

you blink. her eyes are blue.

your foreheads touch. her eyes crinkle in a way you know.

.__ …. ___ ? are you my—

do you know her ?

. . . . . . .….. THIS SINKING FEELING … ?

you want to call her something. you want to tell her something; i don’t know what. you can listen to her heartbeat through her shoulder as though it is the crackle of a hearth. she feels so, very much, like love.

( but it is an odd thought, to believe you might know what that is. )

thin arms wrap around her neck — whenever had you remembered being this small ? more fragile than you already are —- you shift into her, savour this moment and savour this warmth, fleeting as all things ever are for you; and then, that once gentle weight is replaced by something else. heavy; warm, comfort in the form of a body stained red that seeps through white fabric, holding on and holding on and still ——

her voice is so soft. so gentle. eir knows it. she knows it. she knows

“ ausra, my ... “

( ‘ ausra ’ ? )

— daughter ?

she holds her close and shuts her eyes.

(as if that would make this moment last forever.)

…

I REMEMBER a field of flowers, soft beneath my feet. running, chasing, but this is a past that does not exist

I REMEMBER the taste of iron, rising through my throat like bile. you remember that your heart stops before you can spit it out

BLUE SKIES ..

I REMEMBER a kingdom of white; our smiling people. this is a place that you do not know, this is a people you do not know

WHITE WINGS ..

I REMEMBER on that day, i had wanted to tell you something. when was this? who are you… ? did i

I REMEMBER askr and embla, fallen to ruin. this was your fault, was it not...? when you had once been —

GENTLE SMILES … ?

I REMEMBER giving mother a flower. she smiled, and i was so happy. THIS MEMORY CANNOT BE REAL IT CANNOT BE REAL YOU HELD YOUR MOTHER YOU ARE HOLDING HER IN YOUR ARMS AND SOON YOU TOO WILL BE —

I REMEMBER that once upon a time,

YOU BELONGED TO A FAMILY. YOU HAD A LIFE.

she blinks; eyes half-lidded. the visions dissolve just as souls do; into dust, into air— eir sinks into the dying embrace as though it is her duty to hold onto wraiths. ( her fingers curl into harmless claws into the back of the dress. ) she has spent a long time waiting. wondering. wanting. but as all things are — as the opportunity of life is — she is never quite granted rightful time with it. and eir has spent a very long time growing tired of the ordeal.

the woman ( … her mother ? not hel. not hel. ) is gone, replaced by the chill of something only slightly more than empty air— she knows this touch better. it is the one she knows most, even blind, even in the recedes of her mind; her mother’s embrace is second, only, to death’s caress. but perhaps the two are the same.

the former is better, eir decides. at least in that, there was fulfillment.

or so she says, but the latter is ever more compassionate.

.. oh, what she would give for hel to hold her again.

( she leans into the crook of her mother’s neck. she remembers the feeling, the gratification. the way her heart pounds in her ears when it should have stopped. guilt stirs in the bottom of her stomach — i should not be as eager as i am i should not enjoy this at all and yet,

she does not mind the way her life pours out from the slit in her neck.

the blood pools; it dyes white fabric red with little remorse— eir can feel it trickle down her throat and crawl, uselessly, back up to her knees. if she squints hard enough, she can see herself in it. and, for a moment, hel will be in that reflection, too.

she stares, a little longer. as though the woman in her arms would morph back into the person she had been before.

(she does not, ultimately. and in the end, eir is only staring at her own blood as it darkens; a mirage all too indifferent to the life that escapes it.)

eir does not think that she remembers this.

( but the truth is that she does not remember much at all.)

she stares at the cup in her hands ( the memory. the mirage. this bloodied familiarity. ) and watches her reflection shift, paint a circle of light in the confines of her hands — it returns to her, always. once, she had wondered if her reflection would disappear entirely. there is so little of her that is left alive that it would have been nothing more than expected— eir looks up.

... thank you, mother.

hel smiles.

eir presses her lips against the rim, and tilts her head backwards.

( do you recall? the sensation of coughing up your heart as it lurches up your throat——

ah. but you can certainly remember the way you

convulse

as it sinks in, like fire

in your throat.

in your veins.

the cup shatters between your fingers.

...

the crisp touch of iron against her skin is a sensation that greets her before light ( or so you can delude yourself into thinking ) can fill her eyes; before she feels herself breathe. ( these lungs do not stutter in the same way as the pairs that came before it — but how can she know that..? ) she watches the chains dance impassionately around her feet — what is the use of shackling down a ghost ? — as her vision focuses.

the blood that stains her dress is hers.

( it has always been hers. it will always be. )

the fabric is all too loose around your frame. you are ill, more

diseased than one should be

you are so thin.

the flames lick at your skin as though you are made of coal

after the many times

you have returned to ash.

( the searing fire you make of your death does not draw the eyes of anyone, even as you swear that muspell is no hotter than this. )

you gasp.

is that your head that rolls away from you?

she blinks.

lyfjaberg sits idly in her palms.

she does not need to look up to know what to do with it.

—— the blade sinks deeper into her chest, pale fingers curl around the handle as her hands tremble ( … don’t you want to be A GOOD DAUGHTER ? ) and the crimson that spills leaves her unflinching, sapphire eyes searching ever upward ( i only want to serve you ! ) to a face that does not smile; a face that does not love her. her grip on the blade grows tighter; deeper, push it in and maybe her lips will curl, ever so slightly, upwards; finally! content with you, —— her vision swims / will you hurry up ? the second heart forms in the confines of her ribs ; TO SURVIVE YOU MUST KILL THE YOU INSIDE OF ME / AGAIN! AGAIN! AGAIN! ; she cannot stop shaking. chest rises and falls around the dagger, around the home it has made of the hole in her heart, if you would only force yourself to just

_.. .. .

lyfjaberg is in her hands. her trembling hands.

lyfjaberg is the blade that offers her mercy.

┊

wrests a spear from her neck.

THERE IS SOMETHING VERY WRONG. the helian — no, no! that is not what i am. ( how is the feeling so resolute, so sure? ) but who is — glances downwards, in the way the light catches upon the blade that flirts with her collar; the sharp spark of metal against metal.

— her stomach roils in a way she has forgotten it could.

she recognises the blade. but eir does not recognise the way she wields lyfja, nor when fensalir had ever been pointed towards her like that.

she parries without thinking. her body is a

renegade to her own mind.

she moves deftly; the spear redirected, lyfjaberg scraping against the shaft. the rasp of the dagger against something other than flesh rings; parry, thrust! eir watches lyfja fly towards the torso ( WHAT ARE YOU DOING ….? ) watches her hands disobey every cry of her mind — but surely, these are her hands, if not anyone else’s— watches, still, as fensalir fails to defend its wielder. the steel edge rips through fabric, through skin; eir cannot remove her gaze from the way lyfjaberg offers no compassion.

they say that light is composed of every colour

but in this moment, there is only red.

her weight shifts; fensalir does not falter even as the woman commanding it bleeds— you are kind, always, to your life; to the memoir that is your spirit — and the cut whistles through empty air. her head spins, every pulse a mistimed step (her heels sink into the mud / her leg rises upwards / to slam into her enemy’s side. ) as blood rushes through alabaster skin. eir watches as her opponent’s chest heaves, as the woman’s movements grow sluggish;she wants to cry.the soil shoots out from under her. don’t give up, please, please, please, please, please

( fensalir thrusts forward. lyfjaberg rises to meet it. )

there is something familiar about this moment. this place, her bloodied face, the feeling of two worlds torn apart by one single — —

SHE REMEMBERS that this is the day the light died.

…...….. SHA ... RE ..NA ?

but there is nothing familiar in the way that she kills it herself.

the blade twists in its place, wrenched within her beloved’s stomach. eir does not want to feel the way the princess’s fingers curl into the flesh of her arm. sharena leans (falls?) against eir’s shoulder.

she steps aside.

WHAT HAVE YOU DONE ?

what was necessary to pay the price of love.

the silence is —

filled with her dying breaths, like a song

— empty.

lyfjaberg slips from the sharena’s body as if she had been, momentarily, its sheathe— her knuckles are white around the handle, but unseen beneath stained gloves. eir forces herself to breathe.

but she cannot will herself to look as she dies.

she cannot will herself to believe that it is she who drives the

blade into her light, her life, and invites the darkness to swallow the sun whole.

( you turn away. but is it you who chooses to walk? )

her steps fall soundlessly upon askr’s ruined lands, upon the border between hel; until she is returned to her mother’s court. the dead watch her as though she is revered; eir hardly notices — perhaps she is too busy dispelling the image that lingers in her mind. but then, she is at hel’s heel, kneeling ( she always has / it seems for a moment she always will ), head bowed low.

“princess sharena is dead.” she feels her throat dry.

i killed her.

hel knows.

her mother hums, satisfied (is that what it took?). “and of the queen and her son?”

“retreating, into embla. that realm’s princess has not fallen yet. they intend to use angrboða’s heart.” eir hears the words leave her before she speaks them ( she does not recognise herself ). “they will fail.”

this is what mother wants to hear.

hel reaches forward, and tilts her daughter’s face upwards. death is smiling.

eir rises to her mother’s side. but it is with a deep sense of pride; one that she does not think to have ever known.

she stands, for a moment— basking in the euphoria that is mother’s acknowledgement — before the ground starts to change, rolling out beneath her feet; eir watches as the scene fades and askr crumbles ( for there is no need for it to die a second time ). instead, a field of green replaces the ruins of that dead land — this is not askr, even within the memories of her distorted mind. white towers sprout upwards, firm and gleaming as though they are composed of nacre; somebody is reaching out to her. father? ( did she have one? surely... ) white wings span out from behind him. eir instinctively touches her ears.

she steps towards him.

— he disappears.

what had once been the circle of his arms transforms into a throne ( it is not composed of skull and bones, she notes ); the crest is not one eir can ever admit to have known — but it invokes a feeling that rings through her her sternum, as though it is of her blood.

your true parents were royalty,

blessed by the dragon of life.

i slaughtered them,

when you were young,

and claimed you for myself.

her birth mother ( i am sorry i could never learn your name, ) urges her to sit — no! not yet, eir laughs, and the sound is not alone. her mother takes her hand; they run outside of the white walls, towards that rolling flower field— she breathes and feels alright.

was this something she had done, as a child?

eir remembers the flowers. she remembers the smiles.

she’s pulled forward by a loving hand, into that warm embrace — please, just a second more — as they tumble into the grass. verdant blades lick at her face. eir laughs; her eyes close, gently, shut.

if only time could stop like this, forever — she knows it can’t, but opening her eyes would force her to acknowledge that — her inhales come slower, not with the gentle embrace of drifting off but of holding on, trying to memorize the sensation of being so close, so near to touching but not needing to cross that distance, because where is it going?ever is the nothingness that paints this mundane surreality pressing in, against her from all sides, and it is not suffocating, it is not living, truly— but existing in this moment, with her.

she shifts to lie on her side.

a sigh lifts her reticence pulling away as sanguine light retreats from the sky at dusk.

…?

this place…

when this is all over, we’ll go back to askr.

we’ll go stargazing on my favourite hill. all right?

… do you promise?

she looks to sharena's beaming face. if this was not a worthy purpose to defy death for, what was?

I SAW THE WORLDS RISE AND FALL AWAY.

… i was happy.

i was happy.

as if existing in itself was an achievement and that such a thing as insignificant as that could make her smile —

… i was…

reluctant to let go, of the shadows she cast— facing darkness equally establishes the presence of light— of the shape of the water you poured between my fingertips. it cleansed me... i poisoned it?

media vita in morte sumus;

in the midst of our lives, we die.

and it’s a feeling she knows. it’s a feeling that leaves her helpless, as though she can all but drown. she wants her raucous heart to stop beating, for blood to stop flowing through traitorous veins, for her mind not to tolerate another aching thought and all she can hear in her ears is the roar of a past(s) that did not happen and could not happen

you forfeit

joy, patience,

winsome lives

acrid recognition

like a fool;

played by fate.

for a final time, eir wants

to die.

#➵ 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐘.┊❝ our memory is a more perfect world than the universe; it gives life back to those who no longer exist. ❞#➵ 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄.┊It was love’s absence that let me know how much love mattered.#unlockedbunker2021

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zalrb · 3 years

Text

tv rewatch: gg edition s2e1

LOL the recap of the last season is so DRAMATIC

i like how they start with nate making out in a car and all you see is blonde hair so you’re supposed to be like, is it serena??? no just an adult who should know better.

and now she’s betty’s mom on riverdale because ofc she is.

i don’t know of any reading where the author isn’t immediately talking to the people who came to hear them read. the bookstore sets you up with a table at the back of the room with a pile of your books and a pen because authors need MONEY.

“i told him it was good as your story in the new yorker” you mean his diary entry?

penn bulked up a bit in season 2 tho.

i get that they’re trying to show jenny is interning in a hostile work environment but if her superior is just talking about how everyone needs to do twice as much and jenny is already done, she wouldn’t deride her for already being done, she just would be dismissive and give her more work to do.

dan, you can start a story without a date being the title.

“blair will never forgive you for you did to her” it turns out that blair, in fact, forgives a lot of shit that chuck does to her. #truelove

lmao like they really would take the jitney. blair waldorf would not do buses.

“the only thing lamer than dating dan humphrey, is mourning dan humphrey.” lol blair.

i didn’t realize that robots got jealous, did they update your software while i was away? now, that line would be some terrible dialogue about patriarchy with a wooden delivery.

“well, if you call a different girl every night dating.” yes, jenny, that is literally what dating is.

ok i’ve studied with some harsh writers in the past but if dan is genuinely having writer’s block then his mentor would do something to help, like if he isn’t the type to actually talk about what it is that’s blocking dan then a free writing exercise or a prompt, a book recommendation.

honestly, nate’s makeouts/sex scenes with mrs. robinson 2.0 do not look hot.

“how well do you know blair waldorf is kinda boring for those of us who actually know blair waldorf.” “not to mention, transparent.” drag him.

chair angst! “see you at school” sounds better than nate’s “good catching up.”

i remember when i watched in real time when blair took the pin back i was like YAAASSSSSSSSSSSS oh teenage zal, you didn’t know then that chair would become one of your notps. lol.

“i don’t even like james!” “thank you i was waiting for that.” lol serena is nicer than me, i remember when initiumseries didn’t like a dude and she finally said it and i was like so are you done now? like are you done?

“besides, it’s tourist season in the city, easy pickings.” wow chuck are you ever not predatory?

you know, it’s interesting, rewatching gg and blair and chuck because in season 1, we see how chuck falls for blair, we see him view her in a way nate didn’t, we see him jealous, we see him enamored but really, post limo save for texting each other when she was at nate’s fitting and that one soft moment on her birthday, we don’t really see how blair views chuck because she’s so caught up with trying to work things out with nate. i mean, yeah, shippers are going to say she didn’t want to admit that chuck means anything to her, she felt guilty for sleeping with him so she threw herself into being with nate, but because chuck is blackmailing her and she’s stressed out the entire time by the time we get to the finale when they’re kissing on the dance floor and even now, it’s like hmm, i think i needed to see a bit more of what blair misses with chuck when she isn’t with chuck in season 1. we needed a little more of those texting moments where she’s happy and giddy while with chuck or a bit more of what happens in season 2 where she’s fantasizing about him and then stops herself. i just bring this up because when she’s talking about how she didn’t want chuck to know how badly he hurt her and stuff i’m like i get it, i’ll go with it but i think there needed to be more.

but dan’s writer block is stupid. just ... write something ELSE. at least TRY.

“I know that face, that face is not your friend!” lol eric.

nate is just so ... basic. lmao.

the hamptons is the richest they ever look actually.

“thanks for giving me another chance.” “thanks for being worthy of it.” what has jenny done to be worthy of it tho?

“trying to ruin my marriage?” you’re a grown ass woman.

cece just looks like she’s hitting on dan, it’s uncomfortable

i’m your biggest fan i’ll follow you until you looooooooooooooove me.

that kiss also isn’t as hot as it’s supposed to be, i guess because it’s supposed to look hot since it’s performative.

i actually liked serena’s dress. or well, i think it’s OK.

so finally rewatching the derena scene where dan sees the serenate kiss has me like, is dan an ass because he’d been two-timing girls throughout the summer? yes. is he wrong for being frustrated that serena is kissing nate to make someone jealous and she can’t tell him who or why? no, not when he says that it’s the same drama different city because this is exactly what broke them up in the first place, she can’t be honest with him about things that are happening even though those things find a way of getting involved in his life somehow. but this is the point of derena and the two people from different worlds context but instead of it being a class difference it’s mostly that serena always finds herself in some kind of drama involving the same people and dan will never understand why the drama has to exist at all but they love each other anyway, so it’s basically this

which is also supposed to be chair in a different way.

what’s funny though is that those girls are mad that dan was making out with one of them when he was supposed to be meeting someone else but the girl he was making out with brought a date without telling dan so, i mean. all they had to do was change ‘date’ to ‘friend’ to make him appear more of a sleaze.

blair’s face when marcus speaks in his english accent is HILARIOUS.

lmao why would nate and betty’s mom leave TOGETHER?

aww three words, eight letters... the way blair leans forward and holds her breath just trying to urge the words out, if there’s anything i can say about chair it’s their chemistry.

i feel like it’s unrealistic to think that dan knows how to build a fire.

also sex on the beach is like ... sand, man, sand EVERYWHERE.

xoxo zalrb

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pasteljeon · 5 years

Text

Shadows (m)

summary | he could love you … if only you’d let him in.

genre | venom au, venom!jk, smut, angst

warnings | tentacle porn, oral (female receiving), edging, guk has a fat cock ana oop, size kink, sexual tension, mating cycles, heat sex (yeah, you read that right)

length | 1.9k

notes | i crawl out of retirement for this one (1) halloween fic that i’ve been dyin to write since forever. and, as some already know, this also just an excuse for tentacle porn. :D happy halloween everyone! wish i could’ve written sth longer, but it’s still midterm season for me & i’m beyond buried in work rn :”( regardless, please enjoy!

“Kook.”

Silence. The mass lying in the middle of the room remained motionless.

You sighed, forehead thumping against the one-way glass. Theoretically, you knew he wouldn’t be able to see you, but he could sense you. Feel your presence.

“Kookie. Please.” Your breath ghosted across the barrier.

The darkness shifted, a tendril reluctantly reaching to seek out your heat, pressed against where your palm was splayed on the other side.

“Miss ___.” You flinched, the monotone voice of your assistant startling you momentarily.

“The next trial begins in ten minutes. Should I bring the volunteer in?”

Her perfectly manicured nails tapped against the sleek black clipboard, sharp eyes unimpressed as they note your affection for the containment within.

Living organisms with compositions so extraordinary they were coveted as a chance to revolutionize humanity. A symbiotic relationship, they relied on molecular bonding with a host to survive. A symbiote. The term alien often whispered with every passing of fluttering white lab boats.

Simply put, they were experiments.

And you headed them all.

You glanced back briefly, only to find he’d already retreated, unmoving once more.

The research facility was intimidating, stripped white walls bare and plain, the building expansive and equipped with the latest technology. Endless floors filled with glass walls lining different divisions.

Within these walls, there was transparency. Outside of it, no one knew much at all.

The guilt chipped away at you slowly.

They were real. They felt. They were very much capable of the same human emotions your species processed. They hurt. Felt pain. Each compatibility failure was destroying them.

There were many that did not survive the crash. All that was left, scavenged from the space outreach initiative, were seven uniquely distinct specimens. All the equivalent of a male.

They all had binary identifications, but you gave them something else. A name.

Namjoon. He was exceedingly intelligent. The first few months had been spent attempting to establish ground communications with them. Namjoon had picked up your language easily, and it no longer shocked you to see a massive dark blob flipping through encyclopedias. He liked to read, consuming pages like oxygen. With every routine checkup, you’d deliver a few novels you’d enjoyed in the past. His upper section of his blobbed body would incline, and you’d imagine he was thanking you.

Seokjin was the eldest of the bunch, as concluded by your preliminary findings of their biological structure. Oddly enough, though it had been discovered early on that their kind could sustain themselves on anything, they still preferred human flesh. It didn’t make them dangerous, necessarily—you could teach them human ethics. For the most part, Seokjin tried not to nip at your ankles when you visited. As a substitute, you taught him how to cook. There was a mini kitchen set up in his quarantine, and some nights were spent with him stretching his mass over your shoulder and watching you work.

Yoongi was, kindly put, lazy. He slept most of the day, scarcely reacted when you tried to interact with him. You did, however, discover he liked music. He got speakers. Headphones made his head hurt, he once signed to you. Noise sensitivity.

Hoseok was so human it hurt. He was energetic, restless. He bounced around his containment. His own version of dancing, almost.

Taehyung and Jimin refused to separate. When you first examined them, you’d nearly mistaken them for one entity. Soulmates, if the concept existed in their world. They shared one cell, liked to tussle and fight one another.

Then there was Jungkook. He was shy, barely moved when you first met. If not for the pulse beneath his silk, there was no sign of life at all. You were endeared as he slowly broke from his shell. He liked you. You knew because you were the only one that could get close, that could touch him without repercussions. He’d killed his hosts, regardless of compatibility, thrice before they paused trials. He hated it more than any of them.

But here, they were safe.

And yet here, they were also being harvested. Used. To become the steppingstone in humanity’s evolution. Time was running out, and the private company that spearheaded the research was demanding results.

Here, they are to become weapons.

And you were going to break them out.

“Kook. Jungkook.”

Your voice was urgent, though steady.

Panic setting in heavy in your stomach when you saw him press himself closer to the wall.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. I won’t let it touch you. But we need to get out of here, and fast. The building’s going to collapse,” you coaxed. The flames licked your back, warning you of the fire that blazed across the hall.

He quivered, drawing away from your extended hand.

Fire. Bad. Hurts.

You bit back your gasp. His voice was low, a quiet rumble in your head.

You steeled your nerve. “I know. Bond with me.”

He stilled.

And then—mine. You belong to me. We are one.

And you said, “always.”

He shot to you, sinking beneath your flesh and making a home in the beating of your heart.

You disappeared.

As the building burned, so did all the data and files you’d accumulated over the years. The symbiote all dispersed, you having found a suitable host months prior. Some were friends, some were not. But they all cared, and you knew they would find sanctuary in a peaceful life with them.

So you let them go, and turned over a new page.

You monitored your vitals for the first few hours, fearing the compatibility would elude you.

Will not. Belong together. Us.

His thoughts echoed, though always soft.

“Where do you want to go?” You wondered aloud as you fingered the plane ticket in your hands.

Hungry, he said instead. You could feel him gnawing at your liver. “Don’t do that. You might accidentally split it.”

If he had lips, you imagined he’d be pouting.

Where we going? You had the feeling he was trying to read the slip.

“Somewhere cold.”

You hate cold.

“You hate the heat.” The first calls for boarding had you wheeling your luggage to the gates.

Don’t care. As long as we are together. Can go anywhere.

You smiled down at your passport, cheeks warm. “Yeah.”

It took time to adjust to a completely different lifestyle. Your previous line of work had compensated your risk generously, and you’d had enough foresight to invest and save wisely.

Here, you’d picked up a job as a pharmacist at one of the local drug stores. It was terribly mundane, but you found you liked this kind of routine. It was a welcomed change from the scars you’d collected. A sense of normality.

It was October when everything changed.

Jungkook had been restless lately. Distant. Withdrawn.

It’s like he’d curled up in the corner of your mind. Lethargic.

You knew the symptoms.

“Kook.” He stirred faintly at the sound of your voice.

Lover. He rumbles lowly, rousing slowly.

“Your heat. It’s coming soon.” You rolled over, the sheets pooling at your waist. A tendril wraps itself loosely around your calf.

Yes.

“What will you do?”

Another tendril creeps up your stomach, squeezing your breast firmly.

You.

Their heats were intense. Nothing like you could’ve ever imagined. While they only occurred once a full cycle, the need overwhelmed them, made them ravenous and delirious. And a human host? They served as aphrodisiacs. Enhanced the craving until it all but consumed them.

You woke in a feverish haze, a thin sheen of sweat coating your skin, panties shoved aside and thighs smeared with wetness.

“J-Jungkook!” You gasped, back arching as he fucked you harder.

“Love. My love,” he rasped, fingers curling, watching you come undone with dark eyes.

It was also the only time they could fully materialize.

He was ethereal, pupils blown out, a thin ring of gold visible in the ebony that threatened to swallow it all. Completely naked, tanned complexion stretching over corded muscles, he hovered over you, arms braced next to your head. His hair was soft, luscious and long, falling in waves over his forehead. Darkness mirrored his every movement, his true form rippling beneath the surface.

“Want you. Need you,” Jungkook groaned, gaze smoldering as he fisted your sleep tee. “Please.”

“Since you asked so politely,” you managed breathlessly. You took his hand and slipped it underneath, guiding it until he traced the underside of your breast.

He ripped the fabric apart, buttons flying as he shoved the offending material off your shoulders. “Need. Can’t control. Please.”

In spite of the inferno brewing within, he remained your ever sweet Jungkook. The shadows drew closer, the touch soft though frantic, mapping your body in long strokes. He buried his face in your cunt, abnormally long tongue driving you crazy with every lick.

“K-Kook, I c-can’t,” you sobbed, fingers gripping his locks as he coaxed another orgasm from you easily.

His palms, warm and large, spread your legs apart. His cock was intimidating, tip angry and throbbing, a tantalising vein running along the side. He was dripping with something akin to precum, the substance slightly lighter and thicker than the human equivalent.

The dark tendrils snaked around you just as he slammed into you.

Your moan was lost to his lips, kiss messy and wild, your mind blanking with every thrust and the stroke of his tongue. His tentacles tweaked and pulled at your nipples, twisting and teasing, others suckling at your clit while some were wrapped around his length, providing ridges that edged your sensitive core.

“Mine. Mine. Ours. Breed,” Jungkook chanted, the grip of his shadows tightening as if to brand their shape to your skin. It was too much.

“Y-yes, Koo, need you, need you just like this,” you cried out, walls spasming around him as you reached your high once more.

The bedframe rattled loudly, Jungkook’s pace increasing inhumanly as he pounded into you. “N-ngh—ah! L-love, so perfect, made for me. Thank you, thank you,” he moaned, hips stuttering as he came, filling you up hotly. So much it spilled from where he remained inside of you, dripping down your thighs.

His forehead rested against yours as he fought to quell his hunger for just a moment longer. Though his release brought brief clarity, the lust was already beginning to trickle back in. His cock twitched, the ache so profound his shadows latched onto you harder.

Your legs wrapped around his back, eyes soft as you said, “I’m all yours. Don’t hold back.”

Jungkook exhaled shakily. “Make me crazy.”

He nuzzled your neck, even as his dick pulsed, he pushed his nose into your jawline and whispered, “Lover. You and me. Until the end.”

#ksmutclub #ggukienet #networkbangtan #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #smutcentralnet

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lovelyirony · 4 years

Note

Could I get number 30 "Why is arson always your first answer?" With winteriron?

England wasn’t necessarily Tony’s favorite place to be. For one thing, Pepper always asked for some sort of collection of Burberry scarves, and Tony would rather die than step foot in a store, but Pepper is the one who makes sure he gets out of countries and into countries as discreetly as possible.

For another, England usually means either expensive art or expensive jewelry, and art is a bitch to get out of an event if you haven’t worked up a back story for the last year, and jewelry is...well. People are bound to notice if it’s famous enough.

This go-round, it’s art. A rare miniature of a high-society woman, someone Tony doesn’t at all care about. He has a buyer from the middle of nowhere Montana, and he’s not sure why a cowboy from Montana cares about this so much, but he offered a pretty steep salary for Tony, so here he is.

The thing is this: Tony Stark is not known as a thief. No. He is known as a reclusive billionaire who only comes out of his house, like, once a year to mourn his parents.

Except he doesn’t do that, that’s just the yearly walk that he lets them notice and take pictures of.

Anthony Carbonell is known as an elusive thief who likes to make fun of every single agent of any organization that attempts to track him or the works that he’s stolen. It’s cute, honestly.

Agent James Barnes is the newest hire at SHIELD Protection, which moonlights as an insurance agency.

His newest job is one that no one else has managed to complete: capture Anthony Carbonell, and protect the newest artwork.

It’s sending him to England. He has to wear a suit and everything, and he’s not exactly excited about it.

All they know is that he’s dark-haired, is shorter than six feet, and has a penchant for playing practical jokes on the agents when they end up not capturing him.

Barnes touches down in England, follows one of their British agents to a safe-house, and gets out the tuxedo.

God help this night.

Tony usually isn’t thrown for a loop when it comes to guests at high society auctions. Most everyone is publicly known, or at least known when they should be known.

There’s a new man in town.

Tony can’t deny that he has the nicest looks he’s ever seen. A jaw that won’t quit, eyes that seem to observe everything, and a tasteful bun drawn at the back of his head. He also fills out a tuxedo quite nicely.

Something about him screams danger. Tony smiles to himself in his cocktail; he’ll keep his eyes on that man, so far as everything goes to plan.

Bucky can feel eyes on him, but he can’t tell if it’s because he’s technically new to all of this, or if it’s because Anthony is here and he already knows.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew as soon as he walked in that Anthony would be here, and he would be aware. But he’s not really going to focus on the people milling about. He sticks close to the miniature, observing the security measures.

Or lack of.

The security measures are barely there. If Bucky could cause a distraction in the room, or maybe pull a fire alarm, he could easily abscond with it.

He assumes that’s why the band is in another room. He had read the reports that Clint had managed to nick; the band was supposed to be playing in the room, but an anonymous guest had suggested that the acoustics were better in a room adjacent.

He’s pretty sure that Anthony had recommended that, wherever he was. It’s not like any of the rich people would have had common sense enough to call ahead and ask about the placement of the band, and take into account the arch of the room with the acoustics of a violin.

It’s smart, honestly. Everyone is dancing, they want to notice what other people are wearing so that they can either discreetly copy them later or make a laughing stock of them in about six minutes, give or take, and no one will notice if someone who wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place slips out.

He’s not exactly wrong.

But Tony has been working for an exclusive catering company for two months. Very fun stuff. He learned that he will never want to eat another crab cake again, and he learned how to improvise descriptions for food that is essentially chicken fingers and ketchup.

Barnes is looking for someone who looks like they fit in. And Tony does, just...not in the way that he actually knows how to do.

If he was high society, he’d be recognized immediately; everyone still knows how Howard smiled, how Maria moved around the room with the practiced grace of someone raised to be a fun little accessory on your arm.

Tony has both of those attributes, and if people actually noticed others, they would clock him easily.

He got bold.

Too bold.

He was serving appetizers, and he offers one to the new guy on the block.

“Care for one?” he asks, eyes timidly looking up, energy nervous.

“Thank you,” New Guy says, and he looks at Tony directly in the eyes. “I appreciate it.”

No one thanks you at events like these.

And no one looks at you.

This was the mistake.

His features are umistakable, Bucky decides. The way his head tilted when he offered the food, the way his eyes look at his, and they’re not used to being looked back at.

It almost fooled him. Almost.

But most who work for the upper class learn early on from someone or another that you don’t look, even if you know that they won’t spare you the time of day.

He’s tempting the odds, and he’s exactly the kind of person who would do it.

Bucky has Anthony Carbonell’s face memorized, from the surprisingly warm brown eyes to the way he walks away.

Tony has blown this mission. He knows it. He fucking knows that SHIELD knows who he is right now.

He texts Pepper, incorrect grammar and everything:

tell guy job is over. i can refund him for inconvenience.

what do you mean, over?

been had. :(

i don’t like that that’s your reaction. but get out of there, whatever means necessary. i can’t get you out of there until tomorrow morning, or i lose the deposit on your room .

srsly???????

yes, seriously. the woman who let us rent it was very specific about two-day-stay. in the mean time, maybe grab a bottle of wine or something. how are you going to escape?

well...

don’t you dare

Arson is an art that has to be carefully done, if you were wondering. You can just decide to do it, but you need to have some experience for it.

Tony has. Kind of.

He has a matchbook from a local hotel that he went into, and it’s been tucked into a pocket of his pants, and he is currently debating if he can actually finish the job or not.

“Is arson always your first answer?”

Shit.

“Uh, smoke break?” Tony asks, knowing that it’s a Very Stupid Excuse because he doesn’t have any cigarettes.

“Be real with yourself,” Barnes says. “You also have a very unfortunate British accent, as in it sounds terrible.”

“My apologies if I didn’t work on it,” Tony says. “I’ve been too busy with...other things. Speaking of which, you’re new to SHIELD, aren’t you?”

“You’re my first mission.”

“How unfortunate.”

“And why is that?”

Tony smiles at him, and it’s disarming how genuine it looks. How genuine it is. (Bucky’s been able to spot a fake smile since he was seven and his mother let Mormons into their house. He knows a lot of things.)

“Well, darling dearest, I’m going to make my escape.”

“And you’re saying I can’t find you?”

“Oh, you’ll find me. You’ll see me everywhere.”

Tony then proceeds to kiss the ever-living hell out of Barnes.

It is probably the best kiss of his life, honestly.

And it leaves him dazed.

Dazed enough that Tony only has a light jogging-pace as he makes his escape, stealing one of the various Rolls Royce cars that is parked underneath a brilliantly-lit lamp.

Bucky keeps thinking about that line, about seeing him everywhere.

He doesn’t know what it means. He describes Anthony Carbonell to a sketch artist, they ask around, and then there’s Friday.

Friday.

It’s the day everything becomes clearer and yet infinitely more complicated, because Anthony was right.

Tony Stark is dedicated to a more “transparent’ image for his company. He’s stepped into the limelight, and all the attention is on him. Everyone in the world is stalking his every move.

It’s smart. Bold and risky if any former clients have seen his face, although Bucky has no doubt that he has enough money to make sure they go away quietly.

It means that he can’t be touched. For at least one year, maybe two.

God, it’s smart. Be so well-known that even the secret agencies would be found if they even attempted to reach you.

Pepper thinks Tony is God’s Given Idiot.

Arson probably would have been the better choice. It’s not like the building didn’t have insurance, and it’s not like the fire would have lasted for that long.

Instead, Tony has decided to make himself internationally known and request a meeting with the guy who could have ended his career, and still could if he talked to the right people.

Sam thinks knows that Bucky is God’s Given Idiot.

He agrees to the fucking meeting.

It’s a well-known, public restaurant. It means that Barnes is going to be well-known, or at least photographed from an angle that’s unflattering.

He should’ve debated, should have fought for a secluded place, or at least somewhere on their turf. God, that would’ve been an iota smarter.

They both sit down. Peruse a menu that neither are interested in.

Bucky is wondering what the procedure is on leftovers. And if he’s paying for his own bill in this. He was invited, but with everything going on, he’s not sure.

Tony sits across from him. Tony, with a now-distinctive goatee, an easy elegance, and a satisfied look in his eyes.

“You amaze me, James.”

“Bucky.”

“I refuse to call you that out of respect for humanity.”

“I don’t answer to James.”

“Then what about another nickname, hm?” Tony asks.

“Like what?”

“Take your pick. You could be honey, darling, or love. Or something more creative, although if it’s kinky, I’d like it in writing before I refer to you in public with that, so-”

“James is fine.”

“Knew it would be,” Tony says smugly. “So. Let’s talk about the fact that you know my dirty little secret.”

“I wouldn’t call it ‘little’, would you?”

“It’s a hobby.”

“Rich people steal shit as a hobby?”

“Usually not with my methods, but yes,” Tony says. “They usually do it with the careful guidance of the IRS or some shit.”

Bucky does a little laugh at that one.

Their waiter comes out, jovially asks how their day is going.

“Oh it’s going magnificently,” Tony says, peering up through violet-tinted glasses. “How is yours...Lincoln?”

“Brilliant,” Lincoln responds with a large smile. “What can I get you to drink? Our seasonal cocktail is to die for, and if you’re not in the mood for a cocktail, the cider is simply divine...”

It’s mundane conversation.

Tony Stark is a thief who goes by (went by?) Anthony Carbonell, and he’s listening to Lincoln the Waiter talk about seasonal drinks and desserts.

It’s kind of...grounding. Also odd.

“And for you?”

Bucky fumbles with the menu.

“Uh...water? With lemon?”

“Refreshingly good choice,” Lincoln says, grinning. “I’ll be right back with those, you two catch up on whatever you need to catch up.”

Bucky nods, turning to Tony with an eyebrow raised.

“So, what do we need to catch up on?”

“Well for one, you need to use my name. It’s Tony, and I’m betting it sounds heavenly coming from you.”

Bucky’s eyes widen a fraction.

“Alright. Tony. What do you need to talk about?”

“Keeping our little secret a secret.”

“I’ve already told others about you.”

“Who?” Tony asks sharply.

Lincoln comes back with their drinks, asks if they need more time to decide.

Bucky just goes for it and orders a plate of mini quiche-things that he’s not exactly sure he’ll like. Tony orders something with a perfect accent, because of course he does.

“You do this often?”

“Go out to eat? On special occasions, and every other Friday.”

“Tell me what you want.”

“Touchy, touchy,” Tony says, unfolding his napkin. “But I...have a deal for you.”

“And why should I take it?”

“Because it’s going to benefit SHIELD in the long-run,” Tony says. “And they’re all about benefits, if the rumors hold up against them.”

“And what rumors have you heard?”

“I’ve heard plenty, although I seem to recall one about a flooded pipeline and a Broadway performance being improvised.”

Bucky shakes his head.

“Not true? Damn...”

Tony looks around the restaurant before his eyes meet with the captivating ones across the table.

“I have a secret identity. So do you.”

“And we’re against each other, aren’t we?”

“Only sometimes,” Tony says. “I essentially steal shit because it’s either random or has a purpose.”

“And the miniature job you pulled was what, part of a scheme?”

“Hell no,” Tony says. “A farmer in Montana wanted to see if I could do it because the face vaguely reminded him of his great-grandmother. I also, as a principle, try to steal as much shit from England as possible.”

That’s funny, so he laughs.

“And what do you want from me?” Bucky asks.

“Oh my darling dearest, I want a lot of things from you,” Tony leers. “I only want one thing from SHIELD. I want them to keep my identity secret without any strings attached.”

“It doesn’t work like that.”

“I was hoping you wouldn’t say that.”

“Well, it is what it is,” Bucky says. “I’m not gonna get you what you want, but I think you knew that. That’s why I’m out here dining with you, and I’ll be in the magazines for what, about a week?”

“And notoriety for all time,” Tony says. “Your face is known, or at least on the internet. You should be prepared for people to ask you to model, by the way. God knows that you could kill it on the runway.”

Bucky is amused.

“Aw, you think?”

“Of course I do. No one is gifted with that amount of shock in their eyes and goes on life being normal.”

“My, how flattering you are,” Bucky says.

Lincoln brings their food. Tells them that they can take their time, but there’s the bill.

“You know who I need to talk to,” Tony says.

“Maybe I do,” Bucky answers, evasive as possible.

“I know you got hired for skills, but if it was for lying, then this is child’s play,” Tony says.

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“It wasn’t for lying. It was because if I was about two hundred feet away, I could shoot your right pupil out and you wouldn’t even know.”

“You think I don’t have my own tech encircling the city?”

“No,” Bucky answers.

Tony stops sipping on his cider.

“Explain yourself, blue-eyed wonder.”

"Because if you’re found out, it destroys every single reputation you’re going to have to build from the start, and the climb to the top is too delicate for that.”

Tony sits back.

“I’m impressed.”

“Don’t be,” Bucky says. “But you’re going to want to meet my boss. I’ll take you to him some time this week, if you need. Or he can meet you.”

“I doubt he’ll be able to.”

Okay so maybe Tony shouldn’t have said that, because there is a man with an eye-patch and a truly impressive trench-coat sitting in his office chair.

“If that’s supposed to be an intimidation tactic, that’s what I learned for my ninth birthday with dear ole’ dad,” Tony says. “Literally none of them work on me.”

“Then change your ‘visitor’ chairs, they’re damn uncomfortable,” the man says. “My name is Director Fury.”

“Any first name?”

“None that you need to know. Barnes told me that you wanted to talk to me about a deal.”

“I don’t do deals.”

“And yet you run a business.”

“Noted,” Tony says, leaning on the window. “So. I want to keep doing what I do, and I want you guys to butt out of it.”

“And why would we do that?”

“Because it’s technically only making rich people sad,” Tony says. “And the occasional museum, but oh well. And, I can easily make your life worse.”

“You think I haven’t been threatened before?”

“Oh I know you have, what with your sparkling personality and charm,” Tony says. “But I’m threatening the whole of SHIELD. I have been in the dark for a long time, Fury, and as much as you hate to admit it, you don’t know half of what I can do.

The only thing people really know is that I’m a genius and so was my father, but nothing else. Neat, isn’t it?”

Fury doesn’t say anything for a moment.

“What’s your deal?”

“Glad to know you know what I can do for you,” Tony says. “I can provide security and make sure that every single person has the latest technological updates. I have one stipulation: I get to make Barnes a new arm.”

“That’s your only condition?”

“Oh, you’ll be grateful it’s the only thing I’m asking for,” Tony says. “Believe me, I’ll still be annoying. I can promise you that.”

Fury looks at him carefully. Tony Stark is still a mystery, although he seems to overestimate himself. Or how much Fury can actually see about people.

“Why Barnes’ arm?”

“Why not?” Tony asks. “After all, he deserves an arm that looks as nice as he does.”

“No in-work relationships.”

“Consider me not an employee,” Tony says.

“Then you’re not on the payroll.”

“I don’t have to be paid to get what I want to get,” he remarks.

Fury gets up from the chair (he’ll make a note to Maria: he needs something like it soon) and gives Tony a pointed look at the doorway.

“You sure about this?”

Tony’s eyes gleam.

“Are you sure you’re ready?”

Director Fury is not ready. Tony shows up in floral-printed shirts and makes sure to blast rock music wherever he goes, or worse, metal.

Barnes has never had a good poker face, which is why he’s the sharpshooter. Damned man turns to goo whenever the billionaire struts onto their property.

But he’s happy about his office chair.

#lovelyirony writes #this one was FUN i enjoyed it #thief au #kind of #bucky barnes #winteriron #tony stark #director fury #pepper potts

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