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yallwildinrn · 8 months

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Snake in the Grass: Chapter 1

For @ckhalloween23's catch-all prompt: An Empty Grave

This is a horror fic I've been working on since May or June. Given my current pace, it probably won't be out until the latter half of next year, butttt since I have this first chapter done (and I wanted it to be done in time for Halloween of this year), I figured I'd go ahead and post this as a preview and a treat! Well, treat for you guys and me haha.

Content warning for alcohol, bars, and general spookiness.

Pool balls whizz & clack against one another, but the sound is mostly drowned out. The bar, while not packed, is bustling with life, as is typical for a Friday evening; the sounds of yelling, laughter, and glasses clinking fill the already cramped space. It’s the victory cry of men who have been itching for the work week to finally, finally, end.

Dim, warm lights mask dirty floors and mysterious stains of unknown origin that seem to infect any and every upholstered seat. The single TV crammed into the back corner behind the bar top has caught the attention of several men, all shouting and celebrating – or complaining – at every pitch of the game with gnashing teeth. The bartender scrambles to sling out drink after drink of who-knows-what for the night’s customers.

Johnny himself is seated at a round, wooden table shoved near the back of the room. It’s almost uncomfortably close to the billiards tables, and each shrill hit against the pool balls becomes harder to ignore as the night wears on. He’s got some good distraction, though.

He lounges in his chair with a Coors in hand, surrounded by his friends. Bobby sits at his right, sipping his bourbon, while counterclockwise from there are Jimmy, Dutch, and Tommy. It’s tight, mostly because they had to steal a seat for Jimmy, but Johnny doesn’t mind. Not a damn bit.

He takes a long, slow sip from his drink. He still can’t believe they graduated from West Valley six whole years ago, and yet here they are, still thick as thieves. It’s not the same as it was back in high school (images of late-night, high-speed rides on their Hondas and getting plastered on the beach come to mind), but given how damn busy they all are, it’s an impressive amount of effort to keep traditions & meet-ups alive – like these monthly get-togethers at the bar, for example.

Johnny half-listens to a light-hearted argument between Tommy & Jimmy about baseball players he doesn’t give a shit about. Dutch, caught in the middle, has decided to antagonize the two of them by playing devil’s advocate for both sides. Things are getting heated, but it’s nothing Johnny finds worth worrying about. A nudge to Johnny’s arm snatches his attention away, and he turns to see Bobby with an expectant gaze and a soft, tipsy smile on his lips. Johnny reciprocates the smile without even thinking; he can thank the fact that he’s at least a few drinks in for that.

Bobby’s eyes sparkle as he leans towards Johnny. His cheeks are flushed, and his breath is rich and yeasty, laced with just a hint of sweetness. He smirks at Johnny and says, “I’ve been meaning to ask. How’s your back doing, old man?”

Anddd there it is. Johnny rolls his eyes good-naturedly as he answers, “Well, I’m no longer bed-ridden, so there’s that. I think I’ll be good to go back in a week or two once Dr. Gates gives me the green-light. I’m not supposed to see her for another two weeks, but if I feel better before then, I’m gonna see if she can squeeze me in, see if I can get back to work sooner.”

Bobby raises his brows in a look of mock shock, but it’s accompanied by a wry smile. “Did I just hear Johnny Lawrence say he’s trying to get back to work sooner? Thought you had worker’s comp to fall back on?”

“I do,” Johnny explains, snatching the neck of his Coors. The glass is smothered with wet drops of condensation that leave watery rings on the tabletop. “Just turns out that worker’s comp isn’t nearly as good as a roofing job. Pays the bills, but man.”

Johnny shakes his head and takes a swig of his beer. The icy cold liquid feels like a blessing, and he sighs as the bottle leaves his lips.

Bobby shrugs a little awkwardly. He tries to reassure Johnny as best he can by reminding him, “Hey, at least you’re getting comp this time.”

Johnny frowns harshly and shuts his eyes for a moment like he’s trying to will away a headache. He sets his beer down with a soft thunk, and the moisture clinging to the glass is already dripping back onto the table. He glares at a nearby wall and mutters, “Don’t remind me.”

“I’m just saying,” Bobby starts with a warm smile, swishing the alcohol in his glass with one hand. “Not working under the table has its perks.”

Another round of loud cheers fills the room. Sounds like someone finally hit the damn ball. “Yeah, but the government also takes half my damn paycheck. Jimmy still hasn’t helped me figure out how to deduct all my taxes yet,” Johnny says, loudly pulling Jimmy into the conversation.

Jimmy turns away from his own conversation with Tommy & Dutch. He leans onto an elbow and smiles at Johnny, but it’s certainly not genuine; if anything, there’s a bite to it. He answers, “Just because I’m an accountant doesn’t mean I can magically fix your taxes, Johnny. Become a business, then we can talk.”

Johnny flips him off, earning a round of chuckles around the table as Jimmy rolls his eyes and relaxes back into his seat. Dutch points at Jimmy with his beer bottle and asks the accountant, “Speaking of, have you finally been let out of your cage? First time we’ve seen you in, what? Months?”

Jimmy sighs, and Johnny realizes that the polo Jimmy’s wearing is probably the most casual thing he’s worn out and about in a while. “Tax season is finally over. Thank god for that,” Jimmy trails off, and he takes a long swig from his glass.

Tommy eyes his friends and pipes up, “Too late for another round of shots?”

Another round sounds fucking amazing. Johnny instead answers, “I’d love to, but my wallet says no.”

Bobby chimes in, “My liver also says no. That first round was enough for me.”

Dutch’s face crinkles into disappointment as he boos Bobby from across the table. His chair tips back an almost dangerous amount while he does. He shakes his head and laments, “Ya think you know a guy, but then he goes to priest school and becomes a damn prude.”

Bobby glares at him as his grip tightens on his glass. “It’s called seminary, and I’m becoming a pastor, not a priest.”

Tommy snickers & nudges Dutch, giving him a mischievous look. He points out, “Didn’t say he wasn’t a prude.”

Johnny snorts, earning himself a Bobby-patented glare, which then sends him into a laughing fit. Sometimes it can genuinely be scary to be on the receiving end of that gaze, but most of the time (especially after all these years,) it’s become damn hilarious. There’s another vicious clack of the pool balls; the start of a new game.

“I hate all of you,” Bobby huffs. He crosses his arms and leans back into his chair, dragging his gaze across the figures of his (almost) drunk friends, who are still much more sober than half of the room. “Why do I even hang out with you assholes? What did I do to deserve this?”

Jimmy sips on his glass and looks at Bobby. His lips curl into a wry smile. “Be a prude?”

Johnny thinks he can see a vein bulge in Bobby’s forehead, and he has to stifle another snort. Bobby’s lips pull into a tight, frustrated line across his face. He finishes the last of his bourbon with a small gulp and slaps his palm onto the table so he can push himself out of his chair. “I fucking hate you. All of you. I’m getting another drink.”

He pushes his chair back in with his foot and starts to weave through the maze of people & tables, and Tommy smiles like a Cheshire cat and calls out, “Can you-?”

“No,” Bobby yells back as he crosses the bustling room. Tommy cackles in his seat, and Dutch follows suit, clapping a hand on Tommy’s shoulder and howling beside him. Johnny simply shakes his head and leans onto the table, resting on his forearms.

The wood sticks to his skin. He can only imagine how much dust is trapped under layers of sticky god-knows-what. Probably more than he realizes. It’s kind of gross to think about, but it doesn’t really faze him, especially when everything about this bar fits that bill. Not much about this place is great: the bartender’s a dick, the bowls of pretzels are stale as shit and few & far between, it’s impossible to find a seat without a weird stain on it, and there’s never more than two beers on tap.

That doesn’t mean it’s all bad, though. Johnny never has to worry about them running out of Coors. It’s a pretty good distance between all their places. The prices aren’t half bad, and hell, it doesn’t even come close to gracing their top ten list of “Shittiest Bars This Side of California!” So yeah, really not all bad, at least if you ask him.

Tommy’s hyena-like cackle grabs Johnny’s attention and pulls him back into whatever conversations he’s missed. “No, no,” Tommy starts, smiling wide. “I’m just- can you believe any of us actually graduated?”

Jimmy levies Tommy with a self-satisfied smile. “No, I actually can’t believe any of you guys graduated,” he teases. Tommy rolls his eyes.

Dutch scowls. “Yes, yes, we know. You made an A once and got into a big boy college, keep it in your pants,” He replies gruffly, finishing his statement with a swig.

“That’s not what I meant,” Tommy elaborates dryly while gesturing with his drink. “You’re not wrong, but think about it. Our senior year was such a shitshow.”

Dutch smirks and looks Johnny’s way. “I blame Romeo over here. Had no idea a breakup would lead to all that bullshit with LaRusso.”

Johnny stifles at the comment, and his cheeks flush – now red from more than just the alcohol – as he glares at Dutch. He’s about to bark out a comeback, but Bobby cuts him off when he comes sauntering back, freshly filled glass in hand, and retorts, “Oh please, we’re all to blame. We escalated it when we should’ve just left things alone.”

Bobby slides into his chair a little ungracefully, wood scraping against the floor, while Dutch shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He nods his head down a little sheepishly because… yeah. Bobby’s right, as much Johnny hates to admit it. Back at West Valley, they were all chomping at the bit to put the twerp in his place, but none of that needed to happen or even should have happened. They saw red, and LaRusso got caught in the crossfire. It was like they didn’t even see him. Just a conveniently placed punching bag.

The table’s air stills; the rest of the bar continues to thrum with activity while the atmosphere of their little corner slowly ices over. Johnny purses his lips and sips at his beer. Guilt gnaws his ribcage. Even after all these years, after the apologies and many, many steps to make things right, he’s still stuck with bitter memories that choke him up. He opts to study the many dings & scratches on the table rather than meet any of his friends’ eyes.

Jimmy’s the first to break the tense silence. “You know, if we have anyone to blame, it’s Kreese,” he spits out. It hits Johnny like a jab to the chest. He’s taken aback as Jimmy says this, but the man continues, “He put so much bullshit in our heads! All that punch first, think second nonsense. Like, come on-”

“Wait, wait,” Johnny interrupts while waving his hand to stop Jimmy in his tracks. How can he just say that? “Look, he was a total douchebag – I should fucking know – but we’re the ones who took what he said too far. We were still the ones who fucked with LaRusso. He didn’t tell us to do any of that shit.”

Tommy shifts beside him and stumbles over his words. “Yeah, like- but- Look, okay, you’re right, it’s totally on us for taking shit way too far, but Johnny,” Tommy says, and he turns to Johnny with pleading eyes. “He literally taught us to have no mercy. Literally. That’s not an exaggeration.”

Johnny frowns. “Yeah, but we took it out of context. He obviously meant to not take no for an answer, to- to keep pushing on despite the circumstances,” he explains. Are they seriously saying this shit? Even after all these years? After everything Kreese did for them? For fuck’s sake…

Dutch is next to speak. He throws Johnny an odd look as he adds, “Did we go to the same Cobra Kai? Because the one I went to taught us to do fucking everything to the extreme. Including the no mercy shit. Hell, he even had us do karate to the extreme. All those extra goddamn practices…”

“Yeah, and they were good for us. We needed some discipline!” Johnny snaps back defensively. His blood is starting to boil with every bullshit argument that his friends make.

He starts to bounce his leg. The sounds of laughter pouring out from a nearby table makes him want to snarl. He doesn’t get it, how can his friends just- just pass the blame onto Kreese? The guy at least tried to help them and make them into better people (before his sensei lost his mind, that is.)

Johnny turns to Bobby, who’s worrying his lip and squirming like he’s sitting on an anthill. “Come on,” Johnny says. “Back me up here.”

Bobby looks away from Johnny, jaw tense, but he turns back. He lets out a breath, look Johnny square on with a worrying level of sincerity, and says, “Johnny. Kreese worked us so hard once that you forget it was Ali’s birthday. She broke up with you over that.”

Johnny’s skin buzzes. He’s all too aware of the overpowering noise of the room. Hell, he feels like he can feel the next table over breathing on him. His stomach rolls. “That is not what happened,” Johnny insists with a hard stare. “Practice that day was not that bad. I remember it. It was fine.”

Tommy scoffs, “Then why were you so quick to go out drinking with us?”

Johnny’s more tense than a stretched-out rubber band, and he feels like he’s going to snap like one, too. He scowls and answers, “I forgot because…”

Johnny blinks and turns his gaze down. Sweat collects at the back of his neck while his chest tightens.

“No, I-I forgot because…”

His mouth is a cotton ball. He’s reaching into his mind, searching for the memory, but he just… it’s not right. It’s there, but somehow, it also isn’t. He remembers being brought in for an extra practice with his cobras, Twig being brought in to watch & help, the end of practice, getting ready to leave, and then…

His temples throb as tries harder to remember, but he can’t. There’s a gap, a void where something should be. It’s not like he’s just forgotten the details, god no. He’s actively reaching into his mind, searching and grasping for what should be there, sandwiched between the sparring and the night at the bar, but he just… He can’t. He can’t get there. Every time he thinks he’s brushing against what might be the memory in question, a pulsing throb shakes his skull, and it rattles his train of thought loose.

His eyes dart between his friends. His heart pounds furiously against his vice of a ribcage, and he wipes his sweaty palms against the thighs of his pants. Their faces are a varied array of distress and confusion. Why do they look like that? Are they trying – and failing – to remember, just like him? Shit, why can’t he remember?

A chill threatens to run down his spine. Could he ever remember?

When he was fresh off the breakup with Ali, he would spend hours torturing himself with all the ways he screwed things up; it was his way of trying to nail down exactly what he did wrong. Except… he always left that practice turned night-on-the-town alone. He never touched it, to his knowledge. Is- Is this why? Every time he tried to play the events over in his mind, would he get to this downright anomaly of a gap in his memory, and did it make him feel- well, make him feel like he does now? Sick and shaken?

Is that why he never, never thinks about the inciting incident that led Ali to yell at him and tell him things were done? Did the avoidance become muscle memory at some point so he would never try to recall that night & the memories associated with it?

He knows the answer. He doesn’t like it.

It doesn’t even feel natural. It’s not like he just forgot; no, it’s more like something was ripped out unceremoniously or maybe strangled and hidden in an unreachable corner of his mind. Does it matter what type of wrong it is? He wipes the sweat from his brow; the heat from the crowd of the bar tonight has finally caught up to him, it seems.

His mind circles back. Why can’t he remember? Why is there a gap? How long has it been there? Has- has it always been there? And not just any gap. No, a gap that, when he tries to recall upon what should be there, snaps up & bites him like a cornered animal. His head is throbbing. He fumbles for his beer and takes a long drink.

He looks again to his friends. He can only imagine the expression on his own face given theirs. He takes a chance and says, “Please tell me I-I’m not the only one who…”

Bobby slowly shakes his head, eyebrows knit, but he doesn’t meet Johnny’s gaze. Jimmy and Dutch don’t move; they simply squirm and keep their eyes down. Tommy’s chest is heaving as he sits up straight and looks ahead with a mix of fear and uncertainty. Johnny knows they must be in the same boat as him. They have to be.

Tommy answers with a shaky voice, “Who what?” Johnny almost drops his mouth wide open. Tommy’s asking that even though the man isn’t meeting anyone’s eyes and looks like he wants to run out of the room?

“Who what? What do you mean who what?” Johnny asks incredulously. “Who- who can’t fucking remember what happened that night!”

Tommy’s smiling, but it’s strained. He answers, voice as tight as his lips, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Johnny grips his Coors so hard he thinks it’s going to shatter in his hands. “What do you mean what I’m-? You know exactly what I mean. Look at us! Look at yourself! Something’s not right.”

“Johnny,” Bobby pleads. At some point he rested his forehead in his hands, elbows on the table. “You’re- you’re not wrong, but Christ-”

Johnny turns to face Bobby with an eager gaze. He cuts him off, saying, “You can’t remember, either. It’s not just me. Something’s wrong.”

Bobby sighs through his nose. He’s getting frustrated; it’s a tell Johnny knows well. “No, Johnny,” Bobby says shortly. “I can’t remember. But I don’t want to. God, I just… I think I can speak for all of us when I say let’s just drop it. Please. I don’t want to think about-”

Bobby’s practically pleading, but Johnny doesn’t care. What’s more fucking important: a little bit of discomfort or the fact none of them remember the same exact damn thing?

Johnny cuts him off again and snarls, “About the fact there’s a fucking gap in our memories? The same gap for all of us, I’m willing to bet? One we’ve probably had since that night?”

Bobby shuts his eyes, and Johnny’s not sure if the man is going to cry or punch him, but given their shared history at Cobra Kai, it’s probably the latter. Dutch speaks up next, snapping, “Johnny! Just drop it! Yes, our memories are fucked, big whoop. I don’t care! I don’t want to think about it either! I don’t know about you, but I don’t like trying to remember and feeling my skin try to crawl off my body.”

Johnny drums his fingers against his bottle. He can’t fight the scowl on his lips. “Seriously? You’re just going to ignore this? Just like that?”

Dutch laughs bitterly. “Seems like we’ve been doing that for years, man,” he says with a shake of the head, but he pauses and looks Johnny straight on. “You know what? Hold on, let me ask you something. Let’s say we do talk about this shit. Have a little pow-wow and Agatha Christie our way through this bullshit. What the hell would we even do? Seriously, how in the fuck would you even recommend we- we try to fix this? Please, share with the class!”

Johnny opens his mouth to answer but shuts it tight in that same instant. His cheeks flush again. He genuinely has no idea where to start, actually. He does know that if they work together, they might have a shot, but Dutch writing him off with that cruel smile makes Johnny want to scream.

“Exactly,” Dutch says like the self-assured bastard he is, gesturing at Johnny with his drink in hand. “We can’t do shit, and since we’ve gone this long without thinking about it, why stop now? Sounds like none of us want to think about it, for christ’s sake.”

Johnny’s throat is tight. He can hardly believe what Dutch is saying. What Tommy and Bobby have been fucking saying. His blood pulses under his skin, and he turns to Jimmy, almost begging, “Jimmy. Come on, back me up. We can’t just pretend this never happened.”

Jimmy doesn’t look him in the eye, and it’s enough to make Johnny’s heart sink. The brunette swallows, lips turned downward ever so slightly, and he hesitantly answers, “Look, I-I’m sorry Johnny. I can’t. Why don’t we just… let sleeping dogs lie? All remembering does is hurt, and we can’t do anything about it, so why can’t we just…”

Johnny screws his eyes shut tight and flexes a hand in and out of a fist a few times. He brings his Coors to his lips, takes a healthy gulp, and slams the bottle back onto the table with enough force to make his friends jump a little. He glares at them all. He can hardly believe all the bullshit he’s heard tonight.

“Why can’t I just what? Drop it? Why aren’t you pussies willing to do anything about this?! It’s not right! Something is fucking wrong, and you just want to act like nothing happened!” Johnny says. His voice is starting to raise, and he’s getting the attention of a few nearby patrons, but quite frankly, he doesn’t give a shit. Fuck ‘em. “What is wrong with you guys? Who gives a fuck if it hurts to think about it! Something is wrong, and it sure as hell wasn’t just forgotten. It’s gone. Or- or it’s there and we just can’t reach it but- Who cares! It’s still weird as shit, and you’re all just pretending like nothing fucking happened like a bunch of pussies!”

Bobby attempts to soothe him by saying, “Johnny, please, I don’t think this is as bad as you’re saying.”

Johnny feels his muscles tense, and he swears to god, he might break a tooth from how hard his jaw is clenched. He gets tunnel vision for a moment, only able to focus on the traitorous words that just came out of Bobby’s mouth, and when his vision clears, everything is suddenly too much again – screeching pool balls, wails & shouts from the crowd around them, the way his body is vibrating under his skin. He has to fight against the urge to throw & shatter his beer bottle on the ground (likely only because he’s not done quite with it yet).

He can’t believe that Bobby of all people would say that to him. Talk down to him like that. That simple sentence rubs him raw like coarse sandpaper dragged his skin. It conjures up painful memories of his mom brushing aside his pleas for help and, on occasion, Kreese asking him through a sneer if he’s a loser. And worst of all, Bobby knows this, better than anyone else. He’s been the one to listen to Johnny rant and rage about being brushed off and ignored. He knows how that phrase sets Johnny’s blood alight.

Johnny chugs the rest of his beer in one fell swoop and steps out of his chair so fast & hard it tumbles. He doesn’t even bother picking it up. He bites out, “Fuck this. I’m going home. I don’t give a fuck what you do. Pretend for all I care! Don’t come crying to me when this shit blows up in all of our faces.”

Johnny ignores Bobby’s protests as he begins to chase after the taller man, trying to get Johnny to talk to him or whatever. Johnny can’t talk to him, won’t. He can’t even look at him right now. He grits his teeth as he weaves between people, and the longer Bobby follows, the more certain Johnny becomes that he really might start swinging.

Johnny has to shoulder his way into an open spot and wait for the bartender to slide by, but flashing some cash is all it takes to grab his attention. He feels like his skin is going to vibrate right off his body, and he snaps at some asshole sitting beside him who tells him to watch it.

Bobby catches up to Johnny as he’s trying to pay the bartender, worthless platitudes tumbling out of his mouth, and Johnny hisses through clenched teeth, “If you don’t lay off, I’m gonna knock your teeth out, I swear to god.”

It works as intended. Bobby steps back, startled and wide-eyed. Johnny knows he looks a little wild right now, but he just does not care. He feels like he’s one wrong word or move away from snapping, from saying & doing shit he’s going to regret. He just wants to get out of this fucking bar and away from his shithead friends.

Johnny breathes a small sigh of relief when Bobby accepts defeat and slinks back to the table stuffed in the back of the room. He always was the smartest of the five of them. He knew when it was time to leave things be before it blew up in their faces. Johnny thinks of Daniel, and he feels a little sick, but it’s replaced with another wave of hot, tepid anger again, the same kind that haunted him all through high school.

With his tab paid, Johnny shoves his way out of the bar, other patrons throwing protests, swears, & a few obscene gestures at him, but Johnny makes himself ignore it and pushes on. If he starts to pay attention and care right now, even a little, he’s probably gonna get the cops called on his ass, and he just- he can’t deal with that on top of everything else tonight.

He opens the bar door with a hard shove, and the chill night air washes over him. While the streets are neither silent nor empty, it’s still much better than the bar, and he feels his chest loosen enough that he can breathe again. He stomps over to his Avanti, and halfway through sticking his key into the door’s lock, he decides that he doesn’t have enough beer at home to deal with this night.

#the karate kid #cobra kai #johnny lawrence #og cobras #horror #writing #my writing #snake in the grass #forgot to mention #this is set in a few years after TKK #May 1990 to be exact #I’ve so much work into this it’s not even funny #put so much*#I’m really proud of this ngl #wish I could let y’all know when it’ll be finished and out but #I’m hoping everything will be completely done and ready to publish by next Halloween #I’d say sooner but I’m going so slow rn #maybe I’ll be able to get some real writing done on winter break

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blueeyeswhitegarden · 11 months

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Day 24: Extra Prompt 2) Guest Appearance: @arcvmonth

I honestly don't have much of anything positive to say about the Arc V manga. The most honest praise I could give it is that the artwork is nice, but that is pretty surface level at best. Plus, I never finished reading it. I read the chapters as they were being released monthly and I did that well after the anime wrapped up. I don't remember when I dropped it exactly, but I'm pretty sure that I read about three or four volumes worth of chapters. For a lot of reasons, I really didn't like it. I don't want to rain on people's fun for those who do like the manga by focusing on my issues with it. Plus, I'd feel like a hypocrite for doing that with the manga when I didn't want to do that for the anime.

So instead I'll go through this extra prompt. I kind of like the idea of Carly being in the Synchro Dimension. I thought about her taking Melissa Claire's role, but even in an alternate universe, it would be hard to picture Carly as an MC trying to excite the crowd for the next duel when she's well known for being a clumsy and awkward person. I think that she could be working under Melissa Claire as an assistant, trying to work her way up the ladder to become a journalist. She would be part of the Tops, but on the lower end of that scale. She'd have enough to survive with this job, but she wouldn't be up with the high and mighty rich people.

She would eventually be allowed to get a quick interview with Jack after the end of the first round of the Friendship Cup since Melissa is too busy trying to get more scoops from the remaining duelists. It would be interesting if they could fall in love even in this universe. A big reason why they fell in love during 5D's was because Carly could pick up on the feelings Jack was trying to hide and he opened up more to her as a result. But Arc V Jack doesn't have the emotional baggage that 5D's Jack did. Not to mention Carly wouldn't die this time either. Jack already cared about Carly before then since he was trying to keep her away from the Dark Signers to keep her safe, but worrying about her safety after the Arcadia Movement was destroyed clearly intensified his feelings for Carly.

Carly would be of course nervous to talk to Jack, going through the usual questions he's used to hearing from countless other interviews, but unlike other reporters, she would be able to pick up on how distant and sad he looked while answering her. Carly would then ask Jack a new question:

“Why do you look so sad when watching the duels though?”

Jack would be caught off guard by her bluntness and that would make Carly nervous in turn, but he would quickly answer back. He wants to find new horizons and evolve in his duels. He wants someone to thrill him in a way he hasn't felt in ages. He wants someone's passion to match his own in order to go past his limits. He has not felt that kind of joy from watching other people duel in ages. Carly was determined to publish this interview, but she was so shocked from seeing this more vulnerable part of Jack that she decided against it. She didn't want to ruin Jack's image, even if he wanted to be more honest with her. Jack hadn't felt comfortable opening up to anyone before like that, so he was still happy to meet with Carly. He keeps an eye out for her during the rest of the Friendship Cup, sending a note to Melissa Clair's team to praise Carly for her work.

Carly would be in the stadium during the riots, but she would be trying to record whatever she could. She would be watching Yuya vs. Jack like the rest of the City and would be even happier to see that Jack got what he wanted in that match. She could appear once the dimensions started to merge together since other characters from different dimensions were appearing in Academia. Carly would be understandably panicked and start to fall off a building. Jack would have been riding through the area on his D-Wheel, looking for Yuya with Gongenzaka and Sawatari when he heard her scream. Jack would arrive just in time to save her, but she would be tossed through another portal during Jack and Gongenzaka's match against Zarc.

I don't think that they'd be able to talk again until after the finale. Carly would do another interview with Jack, asking about how it was being with the Lancers, fighting Zarc and his plans for the future. Jack still wouldn't admit that he is part of the Lancers, but he would recount his efforts to help them stop the Dimensional War. Jack still wants to keep dueling with passion and wants to find more opponents to push him to his limits. Carly is still aiming to being a high profile reporter and to her surprise, Jack encourages her to keep on her path as well. They do feel a connection with each other and over time, they do develop romantic feelings for each other. The notion that these two would still fall in love with each other even in a different universe is just really sweet to me.

#Arc V #Arcvmonth #Jack #Carly #Scoopshipping

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dusty-art · 7 months

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cringetober recap

so this month I learned what happens when I really commit to a daily challenge... feels like the equivalent of a full-time job.

first the missing days: 19 and 29 when I got to 29 I was going to do something, thinking, who would be a hot villain that's not immediately obvious and super popular? drew a blank (i'm not usually drawn to villains) and I was thinking I wanted to draw a woman this time but there are so few attractive women villains who aren't dressed skimpy which just kinda puts me off from their design. it just passed me by and tbh was I missing much considering the fact that i'd been drawing hot villains all month and all last month too? wheh

for day 19 I neglected to make a drawing because the prompt was doll/marionette and, well

I was actually in the middle of customizing a doll.

unfortunately I couldn't finish it up, even by the end of the month, so we will see the results of that later.

next the days I got stuck on: 14, 17 14, candygore, is so beyond my wheelhouse i just felt a strong aversion to drawing it. the end result was so unbelievably tropey i just feel a sense of repulsion looking at it. the only thing i kind of like about that drawing are the teeth

17 I couldn't get the Look I wanted, at all, even if the drawing is nice. also, the perspective on the character on the left is off, and it feels like his eyes aren't fitting his face properly.

MLP day I just don't like drawing horses in general so I decided I would still go for it but combine it with the gijinka day, which comes immediately after. or before. whatever the order, the Pinkie Pie gijinka is both prompts in one.

Posting them late Now I did do most of them on the day they were to be done, what helped me accomplish that was planning my drawings ahead of time by sketching them out in a document and then pulling from the sketches on the day the drawings had to be done. but I didn't do all of my sketches at the start in the beginning, so when I started to run out of preplanned sketches is when I started falling behind! So I could definitely stand to do a little more prep if I do another monthly challenge.

The ones cobbled together last minute today Day 30 I did draw on the 30th, but on paper. was gonna post the paper version but I did end up ruining it by going over it with gel pens. So I went over it digitally, quickly, just to have the image up. and day 31 I was... a bit sad cuz I didn't get to give out candy cuz my dad hates kids. and also still working on my doll. so I wasn't feeling Halloweeny yesterday but I cobbled up something today. weh

But at the end of the day. It was so much work I don't even know if I'll ever do it again

#text

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calacuspr · 1 year

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Calacus Monthly Hit & Miss –Vinicius Jnr & Javier Tebas

Every month we look at the best and worst communicators in the sports world from the last few weeks.

VINICIUS JNR & JAVIER TEBAS

Racism in football has existed for a long time.

The days of the National Front having a presence outside grounds and bananas thrown on the pitch may be behind us, but the experiences of England forward Raheem Sterling, for instance, suggest it still exists in pockets.

Twenty years ago, England players were subjected to racist abuse at the Santiago Bernabeu stadium, prompting then-Prime Minister Tony Blair to intervene which was met with hollow statements of concern from Spain which have clearly had little effect.

The likes of Dani Alves, Marcelo, and Samuel Eto’o have all fallen victim to racist abuse in Spain in the past few years, underlining the societal ignorance and endemic problem professional players face in La Liga.

But the latest incident involving Real Madrid’s Brazilian star forward Vinicius Junior has highlighted the impotence and ignorance of the football authorities as well.

Just in the past year, Vinicius was racially abused a number of times, including Real's bitter rivals Atletico Madrid singing racist songs in September 2022; abuse at Real Valladolid LINK while he walked past fans after being substituted; an effigy of the Real Madrid winger was hung from a bridge near the club's training ground before a game against Atletico Madrid in the Copa del Rey; and Mallorca fans were filmed allegedly racially abusing the Brazilian during a game against Real.

Late in May, hundreds of Valencia ‘fans’ sung "Vinicius is a monkey" as the Real Madrid bus arrived at the stadium before the match.

In a heated game, Vinicius was then sent off after calling out some of the ‘fans’ who were abusing him and clashing with Valencia players in an incident which felt like a watershed moment for football in Spain.

Madrid coach Carlo Ancelotti was keen to use his post-match press conference to speak about the treatment his striker endured.

He said: “La Liga has a problem" with racism. I don't want to talk about football. I want to talk about what happened here. It's more important than a defeat.

“What happened here today shouldn't happen. ... There's something bad happening in this league. For me, with these racist incidents, they have to stop the game. I told [the referee] that he should stop the game.

"[Vinicius] is very sad. It's sadness, not anger. The reaction [which saw Vinicius sent off] is quite normal. There are no buts. A stadium made racist insults. Let's see what happens. I'm curious to see. ... Nothing will happen. Usually, nothing happens.”

Who could blame Vinicius for speaking out after the match, using his platform to demand change and highlight the problem.

He tweeted: “It wasn't the first time, nor the second, nor the third. Racism is normal in La Liga. The competition thinks it's normal, the Federation does too and the opponents encourage it. I'm so sorry.

“The championship that once belonged to Ronaldinho, Ronaldo, Cristiano and Messi today belongs to racists. A beautiful nation, which welcomed me and which I love, but which agreed to export the image of a racist country to the world. I'm sorry for the Spaniards who don't agree, but today, in Brazil, Spain is known as a country of racists. And unfortunately, for everything that happens each week, I have no defense. I agree. But I am strong and I will go to the end against racists. Even if far from here.”

He added: “Every round away from home is an unpleasant surprise. And there were many this season. Death wishes, hanged doll, many criminal screams... All registered. But the speech always falls on ‘isolated cases’, ‘a fan’.

“No, these are not isolated cases. They are continuous episodes spread across several cities in Spain (and even in a television program). The evidence is there in the video.

“Now I ask: how many of these racists had names and photos exposed on websites? I answer to make it easier: zero. None to tell a sad story or make those fake public apologies. What is missing to criminalize these people? And punish clubs sportingly?

“Why don't sponsors charge La Liga? Don't televisions bother to broadcast this barbarity every weekend? The problem is very serious and communications no longer work. Not blaming me to justify criminal acts either. You are not football, you are inhuman.”

The statement gave La Liga president Javier Tebas a perfect opportunity to stand in solidarity with one of the Spanish league’s finest young players and vow to address the issues facing black players.

When a crisis occurs, it’s usually the reaction rather than the problem itself which sets the tone for how it is viewed.

Tebas, remember, has previous, having criticised Vinicius late in 2022 for his complaints after being subjected to abuse at the Jose Zorrilla stadium in Valladolid as he walked past fans after being substituted.

Instead of being conciliatory, Tebas came out fighting again this time and said: “We have tried to explain to you what LaLiga is and what it can do in cases of racism, but you have not shown up to either of the two agreed dates that you yourself requested. Before criticising and insulting LaLiga, you need to inform yourself properly Vinícius.”

Credit to Vinicius, he saw through the deflection and responded in kind: “Once again, instead of criticising the racists, the president of LaLiga takes to social media to attack me. No matter how much you talk and pretend not to read, it shows your competition in a bad light.

“Look at the responses to your posts and surprise yourself... Ignoring it only makes you the same as the racists. I am not your friend when it comes to racism. I want action and punishment. The hashtag doesn’t do it for me.”

Tebas continued with his denials, adding: ““Neither Spain nor LaLiga is racist. It is very unfair to say that. At LaLiga, we do everything we possibly can to report and tackle racism.

“This season, there have been 9 reports of racist insults (8 of them directed at Vinicius). We always identify the culprits and file a complaint with the disciplinary bodies. It doesn’t matter if they are just a few; we are relentless.

“We cannot allow the image of a competition that is, above all, a symbol of unity among all people to be tarnished. More than 200 black players at 42 clubs are shown respect and affection from the fans on every matchday, and racism is extremely rare (9 cases) and something that we are going to eradicate.”

Twice the governing body has run ‘La Liga against racism’ but it has had a limited impact and Tebas clearly hasn’t grasped quite how much these incidents have already tarnished La Liga –his denials suggesting that he does not grasp the seriousness of the problem both for players and the Spanish football brand.

Real Madrid made a statement, thanking fans around the world for their support. They said: “Attacks of hatred and racism must be eradicated from our society for good and this is what has been voiced by figures from all walks of life and from different national and international institutions after yesterday's events at the Mestalla stadium.

“The unfortunate events that have occurred have circled the globe and brought shame on our football…and …the image of our football is seriously damaged and marred in the eyes of the whole world.

“The referees, instead of acting with decisiveness and applying the regulatory protocols, have chosen in the majority of the cases to abstain and avoid taking the decisions that corresponded to them. Yesterday, the referee and those in charge of the VAR evaded their responsibilities and made unfair decisions based on incomplete images, which were not seen completely, which were biased and which resulted in the direct sending off of our player Vinicius Júnior.

“Unfortunately, what happened yesterday and the handling of it by the referees and the VAR is not perceived as an isolated incident, but as something that has been happening in many of our matches. The victim who experiences the crime can never be held responsible for the offence.

“For all these reasons, we are deeply concerned that no action has been taken by the Spanish Football Federation in this period of time, despite the clear and repeated warning signs that we have been denouncing through our club.

“In view of the seriousness of the current situation and the image that Spanish football is portraying to the world, Real Madrid hopes that there will be immediate and decisive action by all those with responsibility and competence to tackle the evils of racism, xenophobia and hatred. Our club will continue to strive to ensure that the values that have sustained our history continue to serve as a model of coexistence and exemplary behaviour.”

Valencia released a statement after the match which said: “Valencia CF wishes to publicly condemn any type of insult, attack or discrimination in soccer.

"The Club, in its commitment to the values of respect and sport, publicly reaffirms its position against physical and verbal violence in stadiums and regrets the events that occurred during the La Liga Matchday 35 game against Real Madrid.

"Although this is an isolated episode, insults to any player from the rival team have no place in football and do not fit in with the values and identity of Valencia CF. The Club is investigating what happened and will take the most severe measures. In the same way, Valencia CF condemns any offense and also requests the utmost respect for our fans.”

In a statement Puma, which has sponsorship deals with both Valencia and LaLiga, said: “At Puma, we do not tolerate racism, we condemn discrimination in any form and stand in solidarity with Vinicius Junior and the wider football community in condemning events yesterday.”

At a news conference after the weekend’s drama, Spanish FA chief Luis Rubiales acknowledged that Spanish football had a problem, at odds with his La Liga counterpart Tebas.

“The first thing is to recognise that we have a problem in our country," Rubiales said.

It is "a serious problem that also stains an entire team, an entire fan base, an entire club, an entire country,” adding that Tebas's comments, were "irresponsible behaviour. Probably Vinicius is more right than we think and we all need to do more about racism.”

The incident prompted diplomatic incidents, with its ministry calling in Spain's ambassador to explain the situation.

"Taking into account the seriousness of the facts and the occurrence of yet another inadmissible episode, the Brazilian government deeply regrets that, until now, effective measures have not been taken to prevent and avoid the repetition of these acts of racism," a statement said.

Brazil’s President Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva to call on FIFA and LaLiga to act to stop racism taking root in soccer stadiums while deputy Foreign Minister Maria Laura da Rocha said she was amazed by the repeated racist attacks on the player.

"Vinicius Jr received a red card for not enduring all that. The red card should have been given to racism.”

A number of Brazilians then protested outside the Spanish consulate two days later, with Spanish government spokeswoman Isabel Rodriguez saying: "Spain is fighting this behaviour. We condemn it and we are working to eradicate it."

Rio de Janeiro's iconic Christ the Redeemer landmark had its lights switched off "as a symbol of the collective fight against racism and in solidarity with the player and all those who suffer prejudice around the world,” according to the Archdiocesan Sanctuary that manages the monument.

Three people have been arrested and it will be interesting to see if criminal charges are made but clearly more needs to be done to protect not only Vinicius but all the black players who face similar abuse in football in Spain and beyond.

Stricter penalties, education programs and awareness campaigns must be implemented to eliminate racial discrimination from Spanish football and foster a more inclusive and tolerant atmosphere.

The Spanish Football Federation, RFEF, saw sense and rescinded the red card Vinicius had received against Valencia but it’s hardly likely to address his concerns about these repeated racist incidents.

Granted, La Liga did make a statement calling for more sanctioning powers, with current rules making it feel “powerless” while Valencia were sanctioned with a partial ground closure and a small fine.

The size of the problem was illustrated, though, by Valencia’s initial, and somewhat lenient, punishment being cut on appeal from a partial stand closure for five games to three and a significant cut in the already low fine.

In their following match against Real Vallecano, which Vinicius Junior did not feature in due to injury, his team-mates all wore his named #20 shirt while his main sponsor Nike tweeted in solidarity with him.

In the 20th minute of Madrid’s 2-1 win, supporters chanted the 22-year-old's name while players from both clubs joined together holding a sign which read "Racists [get] out of football" and fans held a banner displayed in the stands which read: "We are all Vinicius. Enough is enough.”

Too little, too late given the global uproar, Tebas made a series of grovelling apologies, in stark contrast from his previous defensive approach.

He said: “I think that the message, and the intention I had, was not understood by a significant number [of people], especially in Brazil.

“I did not want to attack Vinícius, but if most people understood it that way, I need to apologise. It was not my intention, I expressed myself badly, at a bad time. But I had no intention of attacking Vinícius, but rather clarifying a situation, because Vinicius had recorded a video supporting La Liga’s actions.

“If I hurt someone, they thought I was racist, it’s far from reality. I feel sorry for what happened, and that’s why we denounced it. And we didn’t just denounce it, we took special actions at his games.

“We spoke to the clubs, so that they could provide more security, identify fans. La Liga takes care of Vinícius. And, if they misunderstood what happened I have to apologise.”

The back-tracking apology appeared as if Tebas was trying to save his own reputation rather than coming from a place of genuine understanding.

The fact that a day later he spoke again, voicing his concern for the long-term reputational damage done to La Liga by the week’s dramas, suggests self interest rather than doing the right thing was front of mind.

Tebas then said that La Liga could reduce racist incidents in six months, which begs the question about why this hadn’t happened already.

A week later, Brazilian clubs Cruzeiro and Vini’s former club Flamengo showed their support by sitting down for the first minute of their match, underlining the impact the continual racism in Spain has had on global sport.

The incident at Valencia should serve as a turning point, motivating La Liga and other stakeholders to do more to fight against racism.

Only through collective action can Spanish football truly be a beacon of diversity, where players of all backgrounds can thrive and feel safe on the pitch.

Until the likes of Tebas grasp the full seriousness of the problem, players will continue to see little progress.

#Real Madrid #Vinicius Junior #Vinicius Jr #Javier Tebas #Santiago Bernabeu #Samuel Eto'o #La Liga #Valencia #Brazil football #RFEF #Dani Alves #Marcelo #Tony Blair #Atletico Madrid #Flamengo #Cruzeiro #Vini #Vinicius

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lemonjoonah · 4 years

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Level of Restraint (M)

Pairings: Jimin x Reader, Namjoon x Reader, Taehyung x Reader Word Count: 13K Rating: M Genre: Thriller, smut, office AU, BDSM AU Warnings(contains spoilers): This story contains very dark themes and may not be suited to all readers, protected sex (vag+anal), threesome, double penetration, bondage (including partial suspension), dom/sub roles (reader is a sub), praise kink, mild degration, sensory deprivation, spanking, fingering, cum feeding, mild breathplay, sex toys, exhibitionism, voyeurism, discussion of safe word, Namjoon is a professional dom/sex worker, referenced discrimination of sex workers and those who participate in BDSM, public outing of sexual practices, inappropriate workplace relationships, referenced death of minor character, yandere character, misidentified sexual partner, manipulation, bribery, blackmail, implied stalking, violence.

Summary: As a co-founder of a consulting firm you can’t afford to be caught in a scandal. So flirting with your secretary, Jimin, would be out of the question. Giving your client’s son, Taehyung, a reference for a sexual partner would be reprehensible. And having regular paid BDSM sessions with your dominant, Namjoon? That would be a career ending disgrace. It’s too bad the only restraints in life you approve of are the cuffs that bind you to the bed, because there are those hiding in the dark waiting to take advantage.

A/N: A huge thank you to everyone who supported me while writing this story. It was hard not to question the level of darkness this tale descends to. In the end your assurances and aid are the only reason this fic made it to fruition. Upon reading you might notice several thematic references to the ‘Fall of the House of Usher,’ by Edgar Allan Poe and the Greek myth of Tantalus. They are two of my favourite tales, and together they greatly represent the darkened desires depicted in this oneshot.

...

8:55 am KNJ: Good girl.

Your heart races upon receiving the response you’ve been waiting for all morning. The sender had requested proof that you were wearing his last minute gift, and you were happy to oblige with the lewd photo. Finally seeing his simple praise for your efforts makes you grin from ear to ear, as you enter the front door to your workplace’s building. The message will be enough to get you through the day, high on the thought of his praise while his present is wrapped tightly around your ribs. Though the garment may be confining, you’ll endure anything to receive those two simple words.

Reluctantly glancing up from your phone you look ahead to see the elevator closing.

“Hold the door!” You call out, making a run for it. Mercifully the gap between the doors widens allowing you to climb in before it begins the long haul up. Glancing over to your savoir, you find your secretary standing at the panel. “Thanks Jimin.”

“No problem,” he responds with a warm smile. “What floor do you need?” Joking as he pushes the button labelled 14.

You playfully shove his arm while trying to catch your breath. Had he left you down on the first floor there's no telling how long it would be before the elevator returned. The building in which you work has been down to one lift for a couple days, with no promise of when the other will be fixed. It’s not a surprise really, ever since you moved into this complex three years ago you’ve been plagued with breakdowns and shotty utilities. Considering how opulent the tower is, with it’s gilded elevators and halls adorned in finery you expected better, but people often overlook flaws when they have something pleasant to stare at. Allowing the management to slack on some of the failings of the structure.

“Do you think you could send maintenance another message?” You ask your hand clutching your waist to comfort the stitch in your side, no doubt a result of the corset concealed beneath your clothes.

“Consider it done.” Jimin replies, pulling out his phone. “Are you okay Miss?” He asks, your heavy breathing failing to go unnoticed judging from the concern in his voice.

“Fine.” You quickly change the subject, not wanting to linger on your current state. “What’s on my schedule for today?”

“You have a consultation with Mr. Kim of HOC Industries in an hour-”

“Really?” You cut in, confused about the sudden change. “But I just saw him a few weeks ago. Why is he coming in?”

“He didn’t say, I just got a message last night from him stating he required an appointment immediately.”

“That’s not a good sign...” You groan, wondering what information had dropped to spur a need for such an urgent response.

“Afterwards you have an early lunch with journalist Min. Followed by a one o’clock appointment with Jeon Jungkook to go over the new web layout. And the rest of office hours are slated as admin.”

You cringe over the prospect of bookkeeping. Your accountant’s involvement in a recent accident, placed him on an extended leave of absence. Since you are the only other member of your small staff qualified to balance the books, this leaves you burdened with his duties. “Remind me later to make a posting for a temp position.”

“Noted,” Jimin remarks as he continues to scroll through his phone. “Oh and don’t forget, you also have your monthly massage appointment with Kim Namjoon tonight.”

You smile at the thought, you would never forget a booking with him, especially since he’s the reason for your current state of breathlessness. You’ve been counting down the days until you get to see him, with only a few hours left you can barely contain yourself. To everyone who asks he’s a masseur, but the services he provides are far more aggressively intimate than a standard massage. You force a small cough to cover the involuntary moan starting to escape.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, just tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.” It’s not a complete lie, with the stress from work there have been a lot of restless nights recently, your appointment tonight should help to relieve a bit of that tension. There’s a loud groan as the elevator comes to a stop at your floor. You look up to the top of the lift and over to Jimin with worry, both of you stepping off with haste once the doors open.

Your entire office space consists of only a few rooms. You and Hoseok had started this company only a few years ago, focusing on corporate consultations regarding public image and approval. All things considered you’re doing rather well. With your negotiation tactics, Hoseok's philanthropy efforts, and Yoongi on retainer as your media source, you’ve been able to take on several giant corporations.

As you walk down the hall you find the temperature starting to rise, and upon stepping into your’s and Jimin’s shared office, you’re hit with a wave of heat. You whisper your curses as you check the thermostat which has been jacked to its highest setting and refuses to shift back down.

Giving up on the system you turn to the windows, but even those are a struggle after being neglected for so long. You call out to Jimin for assistance, waiting no more than a second before he is by your side. But even with his help you only manage to open them to the grand extent of a sliver before you’re forced to give in. At least with your office door open there’s now a small draft pervading the space.

“I guess I’ll send maintenance another message,” Jimin chuckles.

“You don’t think he’s trying to push us out do you?” You inquire about the building owner, and one of your own clients. You don’t usually make such bold claims, but with Jimin’s ties to the dubious man, it’s hard not to ask.

“I wouldn’t put it past him. Though I think this is more likely due to his lack of regard for the workmanship going into his properties.”

You nod overlooking the now stuffy room which holds both your desks. It serves its purpose with a sufficient amount of daylight from the large windows, and a partial wall giving you each a bit of privacy. You’d rather not have to leave this building and the status that comes with it, but there seems to be no end with these faulty appliances. “So much for being the height of sophistication.”

While you settle into your workspace you’re already dying from the heat, a sweater and camisole overtop your corset was not the best choice for today, but you didn’t want to risk anyone noticing the garment beneath. As you shuffling through your newsite tabs Jimin readies the coffee maker, returning to you with the first dose of your daily caffeine needs.

“You’re a saint.”

Jimin smiles brightly at your compliment, living for the praise as always. “Do you want some ice on the side?” He laughs as you tug on your sweater to stop it from sticking to your skin.

“Only if I can rub it all over.” You sigh jokingly as you take a sip of the hot beverage.

“I’d be happy to assist.” His smirk and piercing gaze look to be downright serious, his flirtation hitting a new high today.

“Sorry Jimin, I already have a massage appointment later. I think Namjoon would be very upset if you took his job from him.”

“That’s too bad.” He mutters, his lip still curled into a smile before stepping away from your desk. “Let me know if you change your mind. I’d be more than willing to compensate him for his loss.” Jimin has never been shy about his attraction to you, a desire which you most certainly reciprocate, but your own company policies keep the both of you tied to flirtatious word play. With Jimin winning more often than not when it comes to provocative sentiments.

He hangs around on your side of the room, straightening the chairs and stray flies, while you continue your search for whatever prompted the need for your haste meeting. At last you find it, on the featured articles of a prominent celeb news site, with the headline reading, ‘The Dark Desires of the Kim Family Heir.’

Much to your chagrin the issue isn’t regarding your client, but his son. As much as you try to stay out of personal family matters, sometimes they are unavoidable, and this looks to be one of those cases.

‘Kim Taehyung has long been considered one of the most eligible bachelors. He has it all, money, power, and a spot on every top ten most attractive list, but those who have been with him more intimately say he craves something more...’

Your mouth falls open in horror as one of Taehyung's former partners exposes their most intimate moments with him. ‘The Gucci suits and custom cologne are just an expensive mask for the darkness beneath. He would ask to be tied, bound to the bed and struck. He wanted pain and pleasure...’ The further you read the more your chest tightens. You’d rather not jump to conclusions, but you wouldn’t be surprised if it’s true. A fact which must make it all the more painful for Taehyung. You can only imagine what he must be going through, to have such private details exposed and exploited. He’s currently living your worst nightmare, a societal judgement over one's deepest desires. For professional reasons it would probably be best to stay out of this private matter, but you can’t in good consciousness let him suffer alone.

“That bad?” Jimin asks.

“Yeah...” You cover your mouth to hide your shuddering breath, blinking away the tears that threaten to spill on Taehyung's behalf.

Jimin shuffles in behind your desk with you. By lowering himself to read off your screen, his face falls next to yours. His hands come to rest on your shoulders as he leans in to eye the article in question. You should shoo him away, but you can’t help but be curious of his response to those who engage in such practices. As his eyes scan the page his grip on you tightens, his breathing erratic just like yours, with a whispered “‘Fuck,” escaping his lips.

“Are we interrupting something?” A voice calls out from your open door.

Your head snaps over in shock to find your next appointment waiting for you, with his son in tow. You jump up pushing Jimin back so you can greet your guests properly. “Mr. Kim! No not at all, please come in. This must be-”

“Taehyung...” The younger man mutters as he walks in, slumping down in one of the chairs in front of your desk. His sunglasses are still in place, the smell of spirits wafts over you along with the spicy scent of what must be his referenced cologne. He’s a sight to behold, a person of his caliber could make a fortune off his looks alone; he wouldn’t even need a drop of his father's fortune. But of course, that would have been before this public outing of his bedroom tendencies. Now he’s more likely to be seen as a pariah rather than an asset.

Directing the elder to the seat next to him, you take your own once again as Jimin retreats to his desk. You don’t even have the chance to exchange pleasantries before Mr. Kim launches into the purpose of their visit. “I assume you saw the article about my son?”

“I did, but-”

“And? What can we do about it? How can we spin it? Our stocks have already taken a hit.”

“Your son just had a serious breach in personal privacy...” You pause hoping that he’ll have some semblance of a realization that he is not the victim here, instead he simply waits for you to continue. Attempt to hold in your dismay, you give him the only answer you can, “Sue for defamation if you’d like, but whether they are printing fact or fiction the damage is done. The press is still focusing on your family due to your early misdealings in your company. I would argue that if you turn the view of operations around then there is a very good chance that the media will start to back off personal affairs.”

“You can’t expect me to twiddle my thumbs and wait. My shareholders are currently questioning his ability to lead, they might seek to replace him.”

“Good.” Taehyung mutters. “If those prudes have a problem with me, I’d rather not have to work with them.”

You bite your lip to conceal a snort of laughter. Mr. Kim fails to notice but his son seems to have caught your slip, taking off his glasses, he pierces you with a strong gaze.

Kim senior starts up again looking for sympathy and a way out, “Do you know how many of his flings I’ve had to pay off in the past-”

“Maybe you should just stick to your own business.” Taehyung eyes his father darkly.

“They made it my business when they started squealing to the press about what kind of man you are.”

You try to rein the situation in, this battle between father and son having no place in your office. “Mr. Kim! I would actually like to speak to your son for a moment. We can see if there’s a possible remedy for this... exposure.” You stand up, calling over the wall for your secretary "Jimin? Would you mind taking Mr. Kim to see Hoseok?” You turn back to your elder client, practically pushing him out the door into your secretaries’s care. “Jung Hoseok has been continuing his work on your company's philanthropic efforts. I’m sure he would love to show you what he has done with your portfolio.”

“Do you need me to come right back Miss?” Jimin asks with a pleading stare, his eyes flicker over to the young man still slumped in his seat.

“No I think we’ll be okay for a bit.” You mutter to him quietly as Mr. Kim proceeds down the hall. “Just keep him away for a few minutes.”

Once they're both gone you sit back down across from Taehyung with a sigh.

“So are your going to talk some sense into me?” He drawls with disdain.

“Fuck no,” you scoff, rummaging through your drawer. “Can I get you anything coffee, water... advil?” You finally pull out the bottle of pain relievers and offer one to him as you take one yourself, your head ready to explode in frustration over his father.

He tilts his head looking somewhat surprised, “So why did you send him away then?”

“I thought you could use a break. I’ve worked with many people like your father, they all want things done their way, and you’ll never be able to tell them otherwise. He’ll never admit to his faults, and the fact that he’s the real reason the media is all over you. So as long as you don’t tattle on me, we both can make it through this meeting with him thinking that he’s won.”

“Deal,” Taehyung agrees while he chuckles at your ploy.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything?” You offer once again.

“Actually I’ll take some advil.”

“I thought you might.” You poor him glass from the cooler and offer up the pill. When his sleeve pulls back to reach for the cup you can’t help but notice the glaring red evidence of a rope abrasion on his wrist. While he throws back the pain killer, you take another sip of your coffee rolling the bitterness over your tongue before breaching the difficult subject. “It can’t be easy to have the press prying into every aspect of your private life.”

“It’s not so much that they pry, but...” Taehyung hesitates, his brow furrows as his fingers run through his hair tugging on the strands between his fingers. “People know that they can go to them with a story and make money off any relations I have with them. And the press will gladly pay top dollar for what they have to offer.”

“The story is not a complete fabrication then?” You already know it’s not judging from his father's response and the marks on his arm, you just need to hear him say it.

“No, it’s mostly true.” He admits, watching your reaction.

“Then it would seem that your desires might be thought unconventional by many of your past partners?”

Taehyung nods, taking another sip of his water.

“From one unconventional individual to another,” you pause waiting for your own admission to sink in. To your delight Taehyung immediately perks up listening attentively as you continue. “There are more discreet ways to fill those needs.”

“Are you offering?” He asks, raising a brown along with the corner of his lips.

“No, I doubt that I would be very good at meeting your cravings, since we both hunger the same type of... attention.” You smile back at him, rejoicing in your mutual secret. “But I do have a friend who will take very good care of you. I’m going to give you a name and phone number, it’s up to you if you want to contact them, but I can assure you any conversations or actions between you and them will be kept strictly confidential. It’s not cheap,” you explain, but doubt that’ll be a problem for him. “But I assure you it’s safe and private.”

Taehyung can barely get the information from you fast enough once you jot it down. His hands, reaching for the sheet, accidentally knock over your coffee instead, sending the drink in your direction and staining your sweater. “I’m so sorry, here let me help you.” Taehyung jumps up and runs and grabs napkins from the coffee station.

“It’s fine really.” You assure him, making an attempt to stop him as he starts to blot the saturated material.

Unfortunately it’s at this moment that Jimin walks in to see your precarious state. He stands there for a moment in silence before explaining the reason for his return. “Mr. Kim said he needs to leave soon, Miss. He wanted to see if you two were... finished.” There’s glare set in his eyes for Taehyung's forwardness.

“Yeah, be right there, just one second.” You turn back to Taehyung, exchanging the damp napkin in his hand for the paper you had just written on. “Think about it, I hope you’ll give him a call. I don’t give out his information unless I think it will be of help to someone.”

“Kim Namjoon,” Taehyung mutters quietly while reading the slip. “If I were to go see him, would I find you there too?” He looks back up at you, biting his lip after posing his query.

“Likely not, he keeps his sessions very private, but you can always discuss your...” You glance over to Jimin who is still waiting, and well within earshot. “Preferences with him.”

“Then I’ll consider it, thank you.”

After seeing Mr. Kim and his son off, you're left to deal with the stain on your sweater, with only fifteen minutes before you have to leave for your lunch appointment. “Jimin could you call Yoongi and let him know I’m running a little late? I need to stop by my apartment on the way.”

“No need, I’ve got an extra shirt here.” He pulls out one of his own from his desk. “ I know it’s a men’s fit, but I think we can make it work.”

“Why do you keep that here?” You laugh. He only looks at you and the stain with a raised brow, no words needed to prove his point. “Never mind, stupid question, but I can’t take your shirt Jimin.”

“I insist, go put it on.” He forces it into your hands as you double check your watch, your time constraints leaving you with little choice.

Stepping behind the dividing wall, you strip down to your camisole, breathing a sigh of relief that the beverage hadn’t seeped into the fabric of the corset. Quickly throwing his button up over top and tucking it in, you check to ensure your intimate garment is still hidden relatively beneath the shirt before coming back out for his opinion “Does it look okay?”

Jimin nods, but when he reaches out to touch the shirt you recoil, fearing that he will discover what you wear beneath. He chuckles and persists, “I’m just fixing your collar.” He moves in closer standing just a couple inches away. Pinching the two seams of the fabric together, he considers the change. “I think it would look better like this.” You nod, keeping silent as he follows through. Pulling the fabric tight around your throat, your breathing is forced to pause for a moment as he fastens the top button. “Better?” He asks, while his hands linger around your neck.

“Much.” You whisper, as his fingers drift up to hold your chin, with the tip of his thumb dragging along the edge of your bottom lip. You stand there confused as to why your flirtatious game has taken such a physical turn. Although his actions are prohibited and should be censured, you can’t fully condemn them, deciding instead to remove yourself, rather than reprimand him. “I-I should go. I don’t want to be late meeting Yoongi.”

...

It was a productive lunch to say the least, but that was by no means thanks to you. Your focus was distinctly elsewhere. While you toyed with your bottom lip, thinking of how Jimin had touched it just moments before, Yoongi gave you everything you needed to secure several new clients. Even now as you return, disembarking the elevator on to your floor, you still can’t concentrate on the day ahead.

On the walk back to your office Hoseok catches you, quickly pulling you into his own and closing the door behind. “You need to do something about Jimin.”

“Wh-what do you mean?” You ask, nervous that he had seen you two together before you left for your meeting.

“Your client earlier, Mr. Kim, he said that he caught you two acting rather close, making suggestions that you two are involved in a sexual relationship. Usually I would disregard a comment like his but-”

“It’s not true, you know I wouldn’t!” As much as you might want to act on Jimin’s advances you’ve never crossed that line. You know it must have been bad for Hoseok to bring it up, for him to take this serious tone is evidence of his deep concern.

“I know that, but this isn’t the first time someone has thought you two might be a little too intimate. Some of the staff have also considered the notion. And I can see why, the way he looks at you, talks to you...” Hoseok trails off as his eyes linger on your apparel in confusion. “You weren’t wearing that earlier were you?”

“No, I had some coffee spill on me earlier. Jimin was nice enough to loan me his.”

Hoseok tilts his head as he raises his brow as if this validates his concerns.

“He was just being helpful!” You offer, but Hoseok doesn’t look to be swayed, and he’s right, this is a workplace not a morning after situation. “Fine, I see your point. So what do you suggest?”

“Redistribute him, send him my way if you have to, god knows that I could use the extra hand. You could even play it off as a promotion, just get him out of your office.” Your heart drops at the thought, not wanting to give him up. Hoseok seeing this takes a softer tone. “Listen I can see that you like him too. I’m sure it feels good to have his attention, but you need to get this out of your system. You have to put a stop to it. We can’t afford a scandal and you know it.”

With the assurance that you’ll think on the issue, and giving Hoseok your solution by tomorrow, you return to your office. But the problem is far from easy, though you did not lie about your physical relationship to Hoseok, you have been keeping something from him. From all of them. Jimin will never accept a promotion if it takes him away from you. He’s never worked here for the money, he doesn’t need to when his father owns half of the city, this building included.

...

-3 years ago-

“Mr. Lee, thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me.” You pull out the chair to sit across from him. The massive mahogany desk of his placing a rather large distance between the two of you.

“Yes well, my building manager said you were very persistent.” There’s a small roll in his eyes as he looks from you down to the computer in front of him.

“I wanted to discuss one of your properties, an office space in the Madeline Suites.”

He takes a swift glance at your modest appearance with narrowing eyes. “Forgive me, but I believe that location might be out of your price range.”

“Monetarily yes,” You agree. “But we offer services which might be helpful to you.”

“I do not deal in favours. I can see that this meeting was a waste of time, you may go.” He waves the back of his hand to shoo you out, while his secretary grabs the door from the outside.

“I am not asking for a favour, but offering you my services. I’m the co-founder of a corporate image consulting firm. And come this time tomorrow, I believe you’ll be looking for someone within our realm of dealings.”

“And what makes you say that?” Lee asks, his words laced with cynicism.

You lay out the first page of the article which Yoongi had sent you, stretching it across the wooden surface to place it in Mr. Lee’s view. ‘Real Estate Developer Lee Gungsang Faced Prior Allegations of Unlawful Evictions and Price Hiking.’ “This is slated for tomorrow morning’s front page.”

Mr. Lee is quick to send his secretary off, the door shutting once again. “How do you know about this? These cases were settled before they made it anywhere near the courts.”

“I have my sources.”

“Then stop this! I will pay whomever needs to be paid to prevent this from leaching out. You want the office space, it's yours.” He’s voice is desperate, you have him on the hook, the question now is, how long will he let you drag him for?

“That’s very generous of you, but nothing will stop this from going out tomorrow. My offer is simply to help you get ahead of it and lessen the damage.” You explain, revelling in the fact that money can’t hide everything.

“And how do you propose to do that?”

You pull out a contract for your serves. “I will need you to sign off on my services first. A small fee plus a far more reasonable price for a three year lease of the offices on the 14th floor of the Madeline Suites”

“Without knowing your plan, I think not.”

You give him a bright smile before mimicking his earlier statement. “I do not deal in favours Mr. Lee.”

He grumbles while taking the pen, eyeing you with a dark gaze as he signs on the dotted line.

With the ink still drying you hand over another small document. “Here are a few of my suggestions. Twenty percent of the commercial residences that you have just vacated will be handed over to non-profits for a drastically reduced monthly lease. I’ll even let you pick which you want to support.”

He looks up at you mortified. “This is excessive.”

“No this is necessary. I’ve seen corporations do far more than this when they are not dealing with a scandal. Your accountants will agree with me that this is the best move, it can be seen as a donation and therefore tax deductible. For the evicted private residences, I was thinking of partnering with a refugee resettlement program but we can discuss that more in depth later.”

You carefully tuck away your contract in Lee’s file before dragging another concern to the forefront. “I do have one more request, before I leave today.”

“What more could you possibly want?” He scoffs.

You lean in to deliver your short but important demand. “A heads up.”

“I don’t know what you mean...”

“I mean if there are any other past dealings or actions which might impact your company I need to be aware of them.” There’s always more hidden in the dark, you have one of those secrets on hand now. You need to see if he’s willing to be upfront with you on every dealing of his past, otherwise you might be forced to dig him out from another grave a couple weeks from now.

“There’s nothing else.”

“Nothing?” You ask again as you pull out your phone ready to bring forward more evidence.

“No.”

“So the knowledge of you having and hiding an illegitimate son... you don’t think that’s important? The existence of the only child of the Lee empire, isn’t newsworthy?”

“How did you-” The terror in his face looks to be even greater than the prior accusation.

“You attempted to evict all of the residents who stayed in your residential apartment for over 10 years if they refused to agree with a massive lease hike. Park Jimin was the only one who wasn’t touched. He has no record of a job, living off what must be money given to him by his parents, so I looked into them. His father wasn’t listed but his late mother, Park Haesoon, used to work for your company, and 22 years ago she signed a NDA issued by your lawyer.”

You open to Jimin’s public instagram page turning it around for his father to see. “He may take mostly after his mother, but I can still see a few clues to your family resemblance.”

“When does this one drop?” Lee asks in dismay.

“It’s not going to, at least, not from me or my source. We try not to deal in personal life consulting, but I am going to give you some advice in this matter. Get ahead of it.”

“My wife won’t hear of it.” Mr. Lee mutters through clenched teeth, it’s easy to see that this conversation has him very much on edge.

You nod seeing the crux of his dilemma. “I looked into the approximate date of his conception, you were newly married at the time, were you not?”

“Yes. She knows, but her family does not, they have a large political presence and we cannot afford to lose all support from them. Trust me, the boy is not worth the risk.”

“He’s your child!” You berate the CEO, your anger getting the better of you as you think of the emotional toll on Jimin. Not only did he lose his mother but his father won't even publicly acknowledge him.

“I won’t be swayed on this matter. If you have nothing else to say you may leave.” Mr. Lee rises from his desk and once again gestures towards the door. “I’ll have keys to your new office space delivered to you tomorrow along with the lease. But I should warn you, if there is even a whisper of his name in public in conjunction with mine, I can assure you, your so-called firm won’t last another week.”

...

Less than a month later you and Hoseok have moved your entire enterprise to the new office space. You’re holding an open house for several different staff positions, when the most unlikely of applicants walks in your door, Park Jimin.

He hands you a piece of paper which you can only guess is his resume, because your eyes fail to leave his face, your mouth unable to form words in your state of shock. Closing the door behind him, he gives you a nervous smile. “Judging from your expression, I take it you know who I am?”

You manage a single nod, still confused as to why he’s here, now, with you. It’s lucky you’re conducting the interviews alone, otherwise it would be difficult to explain your shock to Hoseok without exposing Jimin’s lineage.

“I’ve been wanting to meet with you,” Jimin confesses, adding sheepishly, “My father told me of your meeting. He said you took a bit of an interest in me, even found my social media accounts.”

“Oh, oh no.” You finally manage to sputter out, far more anxious with the younger man than his father. You never intended to meet Jimin, let alone have him find out you dug into some very personal aspects of his past and present. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t intend to invade your privacy. I was only trying to figure out what was going on. And when I learned the truth, I wanted him to own up to his mistake of hiding you.”

Jimin chuckles lightly, sitting down in front of you, “I didn’t come here looking for an apology Miss, I know why you did it. I merely wanted to meet one of the few people to ever successfully scare the shit out of my father.”

The wide beaming smile accompanying his statement spurs a laugh from you, while also allowing you to relax in his presence. “Sometimes you have to intimidate these people to get them to do the right thing. But I’m sorry I wasn’t able to convince him to go public regarding everything.”

“That’s not your fault. In the end it was just nice to hear that there's someone who thinks I deserve better.” Jimin adds, with a look of sorrow leaching into his smile.

“Of course you do, but I must ask, why come here now?” You take a moment to confirm that it is in fact his resume that he’s handed you. ”I can’t imagine that you need a job.” He’s appearance alone is enough to tell you he’s buried in wealth, though his father has not given him the family name, it looks as if Jimin has gained some of the assets.

“Actually that’s exactly what I was looking for.”

“Your father didn’t pressure you to come here to keep an eye on me did he?” You ask with scepticism. Keeping watch over possible threats wouldn’t be a completely off brand for those of his status. And with you knowing some of his deepest secrets you could likely be considered one of the biggest risks.

“No.” Jimin chuckles, briefly raising his hands in surrender. “I promise I’m here of my own volition. Money isn’t my biggest concern, I’ve been hoping to build connections. I want to use my time wisely and work with someone who is worthy of my focus, and that just so happens to be you.” He finishes with a suggestive smirk, making you wonder if you’ve won his affection too.

“And what does your focus get me?” You ask, trying to weigh the benefits versus the risk. You doubt that Mr. Lee will respond kindly to you hiring his son, but if he continues to deny his son’s existence then what right does he have to disagree?

“Anything you require. I was interested in the posting for your secretary, but any position beneath you would suit me nicely.”

...

There’s no way you’ll be able to convince Jimin to willingly change roles and work for Hoseok instead. But you can’t deny that your co-founder’s points are valid.

Jimin greets you warmly as you enter your office. “Did you have a nice lunch?”

“Yeah, it was good.” You respond, forcing out a smile.

“Really? Because you look upset.”

You curse Jimin’s ability to read you at a time like this. “I promise, lunch was fine. Yoongi gave me some substantial leads.” You sigh sliding back in your seat. With your values shaken and morals questioned by Hoseok, you are deeply in need of someone to brace yourself on. Wanting to step out of the realm of responsibility and control even if it’s just for a moment, you make a request to Jimin. “Would you go fetch Jungkook for our meeting?”

“I can just call him in.” He makes the case looking reluctant to leave your side.

“Please Jimin just go get him. I need a few minutes for a personal call.”

Jimin looks at you crestfallen before finally leaving. It’s not often you keep things from him, he can scope you out too well for that. But Kim Namjoon’s actual role in your life is the one secret you feel is the most imperative to hide from him.

You pull out your cell, not wanting to use his number on your work phone. After two rings he picks up. “Couldn’t wait a few more hours to hear my voice baby girl?”

You're too embarrassed to admit he’s right, settling on another excuse for your call. “N-no I just wanted to let you know that I’ve sent someone your way... sir.”

“Don’t lie to me I can hear the need in your voice.” He chuckles lightly as he taunts you. “Your reference already reached out to me. I’m excited to play with him, is he just as handsome as he sounds?”

“More so.”

Namjoon hums on the line in gratification. “My babygirl, giving me another pet to play with.”

You blush from the praise. Taehyung makes the sixth person you’ve suggested following the charity ball you met Namjoon at a couple years ago. Where he, much like you, was secretly scoping out potential clients. Every one of those patrons you’ve given him since then has been his pet, but you, you’re his babygirl.

“I was wondering...” Namjoon’s carries on, in a tone far more hesitant than usual. “Tonight would you be willing to try something a little unconventional? Would you like to share him?”

“W-would that be okay?” He’s never suggested adding another to your sessions before, but you can’t deny you’re intrigued by the prospect.

“He mentioned an interest in you, and after discussing his needs I feel that I require someone other than myself to pin his desires on. You’ll be the carrot while I’ll be the stick. Do you think you could do that for me?” Namjoon proposes in a low purr dragging every heated thought and possibility to the forefront of your mind.

“Yes sir.” Your response is instant, with little thought required. Helping Namjoon with Taehyung? You’d be a fool to turn down the opportunity. There’s a small knock on your office door with the return of Jimin and Jungkook trailing behind him. You start to panic while still on the phone with Namjoon. “I’ll see you later then?”

Namjoon can of course detect the change in your tone, but instead of letting you off the hook he pulls you further. “Did someone walk in on you babygirl? I take it they don’t know about this side of you?”

“No they don’t.”

“No sir.” He calls out your lack of decorum, an error which you know you’ll pay for later. “Such a shame they’re missing out. What do you think they would say if they knew of my plans for you tonight? How I intend to hang you like forbidden fruit above another man. Do you think they would approve?”

Your eyes widen as Namjoon continues and Jungkook takes the seat in front of you with Jimin standing behind him. You clear your throat and hold up your finger to them, gesturing for another minute. Turning away to hide your face as you continue to try and end the call. But hanging up on one’s dom is never advisable, condemning you to listen for as long as he wishes to torment.

“I bet you would like them watch, wouldn’t you?” Namjoon asks, egging on your sinful thoughts, transferring them from Taehyung over to your co-workers.

You shift your thighs trying to dispel the building need as you consider the notation of them watching. Imagining Jungkook’s wide eyes taking in the sight, likely with a hand on his cock, he’s an innocent man with strong desires. You’ve known others like him before, they act with naivete but when confronted with an opportunity for more, they don’t hesitate to gorge on what is presented to them.

And Jimin, would he accept your darker needs? You wish he would, desperately wanting him to play along, to help mould you into submission. Your head now filled with thoughts of kneeling before him taking him in your mouth while he christens you a good girl. If only you could be sure that he wouldn’t react like most people, like those who condemned Taehyung. Your eyes flutter back over to your secretary who is looking at you with deep suspicion. You desperately need to end the call or risk giving yourself away. “I should probably-”

“Am I embarrassing you baby girl?” Namjoon teases with an amused laugh. “Does that mean I’m right?”

“Yes...”

“Yes sir.” Namjoon reminds you once again. “I’ll release you for now, but I better see you here at seven o’clock sharp. Is that understood?”

You breathe a sigh of relief at the release. “Yes sir.” After finally hanging up, you offer up an apology. “Sorry about that.”

“Who was it?” Jimin inquires with a soft tone, but a quick lick to his lips shows his intentions to be far from innocent. His clenched fists and hovering nature further pointing towards jealousy.

“No one important.” You smile through the lie, careful in your attempt to comfort him. It’s pointless to keep acting in this way, but you still can’t bear the thought of disheartening his feelings or pushing him away.

...

After your meeting with Jungkook, you're left with a stack of paperwork and your ever persistent lack of concentration as you try to figure out what can be done with Jimin. Should you just tell him the issue, would it help or would it make the situation worse? If he knows how he is perceived then will the affection stop, and if it does, will you struggle with that loss?

“Can I walk you to your car Miss?” Jimin asks with his jacket in hand. You check the time, reading just after five. So lost in thought you had accomplished almost nothing in the last few hours of the day.

“I think I might just stay here until I have to leave for my appointment, I still have a bit more work to do.” You explain rubbing your hands over your face as you pull yourself from your daze.

“Do you want me to stay too then?”

“No, I couldn’t ask that of you. But before you go I’d like to discuss something” You gesture to the seat across from you which he takes with hesitation. You’re usually not so formal and he can clearly spot the difference. You open your mouth and pause trying to find the right words as his eyes shine in your direction. The evening sun pouring into the room bathing his skin in with golden light makes it so much harder to stick to the issue at hand. You eventually resort to staring at the irrelevant papers on your desk as you open with your concern.

“I’m worried that our actions towards each other imply that our relationship is not strictly professional.” You blurt it out quickly, hating every word that crosses your lips.

“Have I been making you uncomfortable Miss?” Jimin’s expression falls along with his question, the heartbreak ringing out clear in his voice.

“No, no. It’s just, I’m concerned about how others see our interactions.”

“Oh, so someone said something to you then?”

“Hoseok mentioned that a few people think we appear to be a bit more than boss and secretary.” You know it cowardly to bring Hoseok into this, but the information is second hand. You can’t be sure what others have said exactly.

“Well you do know more about me than most.” Jimin laughs lightly.

“That’s not what they are implying. They think we are engaged in a sexual relationship.”

“And...” He draws the word out as if the implication is nothing, implying there should be a better reason for your concerns.

“We aren’t Jimin!”

“Well, there's only one way to fix that.” He stands up leaning towards you over your desk. “You can’t say you haven’t thought about it. We could keep it a secret if you’d like, no one has to know.”

You doubt Jimin could keep a relationship between the two of you hidden, with the way he dotes on you already, you’re one passionate night away from finding three dozen roses on your desk. “Someone would find out, and the fall out-”

“Fuck the fall out,” Jimin states with resolve, reaching out his fingers tucking back a strand of your hair before curling beneath your chin. “I’m tired of this charade. Hoseok only said something because he’s jealous. He’s jealous that you want me as much as I want you.”

“Jimin,” You whisper. “Even if that was the case, that still doesn’t make it right.” You pull back from his touch. “You should go. Think about what I said, because if we can’t maintain at least some level of restraint and professionalism... then you might be better off working for someone else in the office.”

“So you’d rather keep your social image than be happy with me?” Jimin accuses, the usual warmth having completely vanished from his face.

“It’s not like that. My standing is my life, it’s my career, any blemish would destroy everything I have.” You attempt to express the fear inside you, the weight that bears on you every day. You already have so many secrets and liabilities, but one as close and extensive as a relationship with him might finally crush you and everything you’ve built. “I like you, I really do, but I can’t take the risk. You have to understand, I’m not like you. I don’t have a secret trust fund to fall back on.”

Jimin looks as though you’ve stabbed him, pulling away he heads to the exit. “I’m sorry I’m not worth the risk. You know, I thought you were better than that, but it would seem you’re just like everyone else.”

The door slamming between you echoes through the office as you sag in your chair. Never in all your years have you ever sunk so low. By taking him on you wanted to ensure Jimin’s happiness, to show him his value despite the lack of acknowledgement from his father, but now it seems you’ve fallen into the same role as those who have hurt him before.

...

You type your code into Namjoon’s door, stepping into his hall quickly and shutting the door behind you. It’s just before seven and usually you find him in his living room already waiting, but today it’s empty. Not wanting to disturb him, you take a seat on the couch and wait patiently for him to join you.

You feel ready to fold in on yourself as you continue to dwell on your argument with Jimin. If you laid out boundaries earlier you likely wouldn’t be where you are now. Hating yourself over his confession, and your inability to accept it.

There’s movement from the bedroom door as Namjoon’s partner Seokjin comes out to greet you. You look up in bewilderment as he takes your hand, pulling you off the couch. “Namjoon has already started with the other client, so he sent me to fetch you.”

You nod understanding Namjoon’s divergence from the norm, it wouldn’t be safe practice for him to leave Taehyung alone in a precarious position. Now looking to the door with curiosity, you’re excited by what lustful visions will greet you on the other side. But when Seokjin presents something to you it’s clear that you won’t get to see those sights.

“You’ve been asked to wear this.” He holds out a wide silken strip, one that Namjoon has used as a blindfold in the past. You allow Seokjin to cover your eyes, with a touch far more gentle than you know Namjoon’s to be. You don’t want kindness, craving instead to be broken in by the man in the other room, especially after the damage you’ve done today. The loss of your vision will have to be punishment enough for the time being.

“Does he want me to undress too?” You ask, touching the silk over your eyes, you're completely blind and already longing for the next step.

“No he wishes to save that pleasure for himself.”

You smirk thinking he might, you’ve been wearing his gift all day it’s only right that he gets to see it first.

There’s a knock and a click of the door before Seokjin takes you in hand again, leading you in. The air is warmer and heavier than that of the living room, making it impossible to draw a fresh breath.

Seokjin pushes down on your shoulder, a wordless order to kneel. The plush carpet meeting your knees as you lower yourself, if only you could reach out to get a better sense of what’s in front of you, but form dictates that you keep your hands on your lap.

The bedroom door closes, signalling Seokjin's departure. Sending one last wave of clean air before you're smothered once again. Locked away for the night with your master and his new pet. There’s a small creek from the mattress and the familiar rattle of restraints against the bedpost. You can just barely make out the tone of Namjoon’s low whisper as he speaks to the current tenant of the bed.

Footsteps land to your left, muffled by the wall to wall but still sending vibrations through the floor. As Namjoon approaches, your heart pounds wondering what his first move against you will be. He takes his sweet time letting the anticipation build as your chest continues to heave in its attempts to take in the thick air. You keep your posture, maintaining your stance with the knowledge that he will inspect you. Head lowered, hands on thighs, perched on your toes as your knees dig into the ground. Your legs soon start to tremble as your feet strain to bear the weight.

Namjoon settles right in front of you, the slow draw of his breath reaches your ears, while the heat of his exhale hits your face. A hand trails up the outside of your thigh stilling the tremor in your legs with a forceful grip. You freeze wondering if your jitters will cost you, you can’t let him find fault not if you want him to reward you with his presence.

But as he takes your chin tightly between his index and his thumb, you know you're in the clear. He tilts your head up as you breathe a sigh of relief. “Such a good girl, setting the perfect example.” His fingers slide down petting the column of your throat with a firm touch. “I was so happy to receive your picture this morning, did you wear the gift all day as ordered?”

“Yes sir.” You pant back, eager for him to see for himself.

“It wasn’t too hard for you then, to go so long in such a confined state?”

“No sir.”

“Good girl,” He purrs in your ear as he starts unfastening your shirt. He hesitates on the buttons for a moment. “Babygirl, would you care to tell me why you're wearing a men’s shirt?”

You swallow not wanting to admit that it’s the fault of the man currently lying in his bed. You plan to take the fall, wanting Namjoon’s undivided attention even if it’s in the form of a punishment. “I spilled something on mine sir.”

“So clumsy.” He has the shirt completely off now revealing the corset for him and likely Taehyung to see. Namjoon helps you to stand, unzipping your skirt he pushes it to the floor. You feel so helpless without your sight but Namjoon doesn’t seem to mind assisting. He uses the soft fabric of the shirt to dab at the sweat beading on your skin. “Who, may I ask, clothed you in theirs? Such an expensive label, he must think highly of you.”

You shift in place, made uncomfortable by your inability to answer. Knowing if you say his name thoughts of him will be summoned to your mind. You don’t deserve to think of him at such a time, not after you led him on and left him dry.

“You don’t wish to tell me?” The feel of Namjoon’s breath leaves you, the sounds of his feet indicating he’s moved to the right of you. Heading to a space you know to be occupied by a table and closet full of his tools. There’s a scrap of metal and what sounds like the jingle of buckles.

“No sir.”

“And why is that?” Fingers trail up your arm as Namjoon signals his return to your side.

“Because I’m not allowed to have him sir.”

“A noble response.” Namjoon reasons while he wraps the leather strap of a familiar collar around your neck. “But I still plan to get that name from you before we’re done.” He buckles it swiftly checking the tightness with two fingers. You thought him finished but he progresses to cuff your wrists in leather too, tethering them together in front of you.

He leans in again with a hushed request, “Still know your safe word?” You nod repeating is back to him before he leads you on towards the bed.

Namjoon stands behind you as he presents you to his new pet. When you gave Taehyung Namjoon’s number you hadn’t been expecting this but you can’t deny enjoying the prospect. But you find the silence and lack of reaction from him unnerving. “I asked him not to make a sound,” Namjoon explains, “And he’s abiding by my rules so well it’s he?”

Namjoon takes your hands helping you to feel the current state in which Taehyung is interned. A Leather cuff just like yours binds one of his wrists with a short chain leading to bedpost. You imagine that his other limbs are restricted to the other corners of the bed, for Namjoon has bound you in the same state before.

“Can he see?” You ask Namjoon wondering if he has been left blind too, or if he’s eyes are watching you now.

“Can he see you? He can babygirl, in fact, he hasn’t looked away once, and why would he?” Namjoon sits you down on the large bed to join Taehyung before pulling down the matching underwear to your corset. “They’re so wet, have you been soaking these all day?”

You nod in response. A delighted Namjoon makes an offer to Taehyung. “Would you like a taste pet? A reward for being so good.” Namjoon revels in his situation with a chuckle, the man beneath you must have nodded. “Then open up.” You know what a taste means for Namjoon, those panties of yours are most certainly shoved into Taehyung's mouth. He lets out a groan of satisfaction at the welcome intrusion.

Namjoon’s hands find your waist dragging you up further on to the bed with your knees now resting on the mattress. “You’re going to straddle him for me babygirl.” He shifts you over pulling up one of your legs to settle them on either side of the man beneath you. Your knees bent with your calves coming to rest against his bare hips. Without his billowy clothes he is far more slight than you expected, but his skin feels firm and toned.

You slowly move to lower yourself knowing what you will come down on top of as you sit, but Namjoon seems to have other plans in mind. He takes your bound wrist, lifting them above your head and latching the cuffs to a chain in the rafters of the canopy bed. Once fixed in place he tests your limitations, a quick tug to show you even with your arms fully extended you are only able to lower yourself to half a kneel. You groan in frustration with the realization you can’t move any closer to the cock that rests below you. It’s just as he promised, hung like forbidden fruit above another man. Your dominant’s flare for the poetic never failing to surprise you.

“Problem babygirl?” Namjoon cooes in your ear. “Do you have something you want to say?”

“No sir.”

“Good, because if I recall you still need to be punished for your lack of formality on the phone earlier today.”

Your stomach drops as you realize he’s going to discipline you right now, in full view of Taehyung. The heat rises to your face at the thought of being demeaned in front of another. Namjoon’s hand cups your bare ass, readying it for the assault. “You failed to call me sir twice, three for each lapse should do it.”

While the first strike eases you in, those that follow are not so gentle. The ring of his index biting your flesh with each impact. The third strike is so strong you pivot forward on your knees, your back arching as you bare forward still confined to the corset and chains. The weight of your body pulls painfully on your shoulders for a brief second, but Namjoon is there to catch you. Stopping you before you can slip and more, and propping you back in place before continuing.

One hand lays firmly on your stomach to prevent the shift from happening again, while the other rubs the curve of your ass mapping where he should strike next. You can feel the warmth in your skin as the blood rises to the surface in reaction to his beating. Your nerves are caught in the struggle between pain and pleasure, even as the sixth and final blow lands.

“Good girl.” Namjoon whispers his touch disappearing, as you ease down against your restraints. You hang completely by your wrists while your legs quake from the shock. Every nerve in your body feels as though it’s been left on fire with nothing to quench the flames. Leaving you to hang there for what seems like eternity.

“Sir?” You whisper in the dark as the heat continues to build inside you. Wondering where he has gone your body reacts, begging for the return of his attention with a dripping cunt. And with Taehyung below that can only mean the steady drip of your arousal is left to fall on him.

“Babygirl you’re making such a mess.” Namjoon confirms along with a groan from the man beneath you. “But he appears to be leaking too. Do you want some?” You nod eager for a taste.

Namjoon obliges, grabbing your throat in one hand, he presses a damp finger to your lips for you to take. Your mouth latches over the offered digit, allowing the bitter fluid to sweep over your tongue. You're forced to let it sit there unable to swallow as the grip on your throat tightens, with the strap of the collar digging into your skin. Your mouth fills with saliva prompting you to close it despite your desperate need for air.

“Does he taste good?” Namjoon wickedly possesses knowing you can barely even nod. It’s when you start to tremble that he finally releases your airway.

You swallow quickly before letting your mouth hang open in a pant. With your lungs still restricted by the corset your breathing comes in short shuddering waves. “Yes sir, so good.”

“I think he likes having you drench him, shall we give him more?”

“Please.” You beg but Namjoon suddenly delivers a staggering blow to your backside, indicating your misstep. You’re left gasping from the sudden impact, swinging in the restraints as you try to recoil. “Please sir.” Your plea comes again this time with the proper decorum.

There’s a crinkle of what sounds like a condom wrapper as Namjoon readies himself behind you. His fingers damp with lubrication find your back entrance, your tight hole giving way to a single finger. “You’ve been training for me like I asked?”

“Yes sir.” You almost come at the thought of it along with pleasure with the swirling digit. You’ve dabbled in anal before testing out a few toys, but a few weeks ago he sent you a plug with a tapered t-shaped end, giving you strict orders to wear it to work the following day. Unfortunately that was the date you had scheduled a meeting with your whole team. You were a flustered mess as you fought through your presentation, Jimin’s presence by your side making it so much more difficult to maintain control of your arousal . But the full day of public and torturous stimulation was worth it, for the reward that night was a call from Namjoon. His orders led you through every action of self pleasure. Telling you when and where to touch before finally directing you to come. You’ve used the item several times on your own since, knowing your practice would help you in this moment. You wanted to make Namjoon proud and take him with little resistance. That desire now intensified with having Taehyung as an audience.

“Then you're ready to take me in front of him?”

You nod gripping chains of the restraints as Namjoon eases into you. “Just relax.” His hands glide down your shoulders and back, coming to rest splayed across your hips, the tips of his finger root under the corset and dig into your stomach. Your grip eases as you lean back into him. “That’s it.” He mutters quietly as you stretch to accommodate him. “Good girl.”

After taking a few inches Namjoon pushes down on the front of your corset bowing the metal latches back to so they release, with a few clicks and swift presses the garment is off allowing you to breathe deeper than you have all day.

“God you should see him babygirl, he’s so ruined by the sight of you. You have him panting for you.” You wish you could curse Namjoon for his choice to blindfold you and silence Taehyung, you would take any punishment that came of it, but all you can muster is a gasp while he continues to fill you more. “I wonder how he’ll react,” One of Namjoon’s hands leaves your hips coming to rest with something soft against your aching clit. “When he sees you come.” With a click the object vibrates, throwing you back completely onto Namjoons cock from the shock.

You catch Namjoon’s lustful groan between your cries. He starts to thrust inside of you one hand gripping your chest while the other holds the vibrate down in place despite your bucking hips. It doesn’t take long for you to completely fold. As the heat inside you finally reaches its peak you shatter, your head falling back on Namjoon’s shoulder as you convulse and moan. With nothing for your cunt to clench your legs grip the trussed man between them. He too lets out a sinful groan as the fluids from your fold continue to drip down your legs meet his adjoining skin.

Namjoon turns the device off and slips out, the bed shifts as he moves in front of you. When his hand cups your face you lean into his touch. “You okay?”

You nod hoping he’ll be lenient with your lack of speech. You hear him whisper as he checks in with Taehyung too. “I’m going to take these now.” Namjoon must finally be freeing him from the waded underwear of yours.

Namjoon’s hands find you again, playing with the arousal dripping down your legs as he drags his fingers up to the source. A finger grazes your folds slipping between without penetrating. You pull desperately against your restraints hoping that it might find its way inside.

“So are you going to tell me who you’re not allowed to have?” Namjoon asks again. “Or do I have to let you hang here all night?”

“My secretary...” You give in with a whisper, hoping that Taehyung won’t hear.

“And what’s his name? Say it and I’ll give you what you want.”

The deal is too good for you to resist, you last only a couple more seconds before finally giving in. Crying out, “Jimin,” as two of Namjoon’s fingers breach you. Your sopping slit squelching as he curls his fingers.

“There it is.” Namjoon sighs, his other hand brushing your cheek. “Is he the reason you’re so worked up tonight babygirl?”

“Y-yes sir.” You stutter as his fingers continue. He gives you another minute of bliss before removing his digits.

“You’re going to do something for me, okay?” Namjoon asks. You nod as he continues to hold your face. “That man between your legs, you are going to fuck him and imagine Jimin as you do so, is that clear?”

“Yes sir.”

“Is that okay with you pet?” He asks the other occupant, who still remains silent with his answers. The sound of another condom wrapper, comes as your confirmation. Taehyung lets out an unexpected high pitched whine, likely due to the pressure that comes with the latex being rubbed down his shaft. You’re already so invested in the lie that he’s even starting to sound like Jimin.

Namjoon is once again behind you. You can hear the rattle of the length of chain that holds you up and as he sinks back into you, his cock slipping in far easier this time, your body gladly welcomes the fullness of his intrusion. He then lowers you inch by inch, with little strength left in your legs you are relying only on the restraints and Namjoon to hold you up. After gaining a bit more freedom you can feel the tip of a cock brushing up against you. Namjoon’s arm comes to rest on your thigh as he lines the erection up for you to take it inside. It’s a slow descent, as you stretch to accommodate both of them. Your thankful Namjoon’s mercy for easing you down gradually.

When you bottom out Namjoon pulls the chain down from the rafters he releases the length from your cuffs, but rather than discarding it he attaches it to your collar, tugging on it as if it’s a leash. Though your hands are still bound together you have the freedom to rest them on the man laying down in front of you. You take pleasure in dragging the tips of your fingers across his skin, feeling his abs flex and his cock twitch inside you as you do so.

Namjoon starts to thrust, keeping a close hold on your collar. While he pushes you are sent up and down on what you desperately want to be Jimin’s thick cock. After a few thrusts you are shoved forward entirely by Namjoon, colliding with the man beneath you. Your chest is pushed into his, as your bound hands are pinned between the two of you. While your head is left to rest on his shoulder, the tip of your nose is able to graze his neck. As you breathe in your mind continues to play tricks, the smell coming off him mimics that of the cologne your secretary wears, rather than the scent of Taehyung.

Namjoon must have unbound his legs as they bend up to cradle your own from behind his hips bucking into yours, with both men taking you at a steady pace.

You move in closer to his neck, with a lick you taste the salt of his skin showing your intentions. Biting down on the spot, you suck in deeply as your teeth dig in even harder. The carnal groans you receive from him sending shivers to your spine. There’s the sound of a soft slap, Namjoon didn’t hit you, but the man beneath you returns to his ordered silence.

Namjoon thrusts even harder, pushing you into his chest repeatedly. The thought of being fucked into Jimin’s embrace is too much to bear. Your cunt clenches as you continue envisioning your secretary, and how you're grinding your clit against his pelvis.

You cry out over the swelling girths inside you, knowing their both likely to come soon. Clenching down one last time you dissolve in the pleasure and contentment. Namjoon finishes first remaining inside while his pet comes too. He leaves you there laying upon your imagined Jimin, in your daze you can barely move let alone focus on reality. With a wave of exhaustion you start to slip from consciousness, but not before one last praise reaches your ears. Your delirium grants you the satisfaction of hearing the voice of Jimin whisper, “Good girl.”

...

You can’t remember the last time you slept so well. You woke early to find Namjoon had taken care of you in the night, he released your wrist cuffs, and removed your blindfold, after you had passed out from the physical exertion. The only restraint to remain was your collar which he asked you to wear today. Taehyung was sadly already gone, but you can’t deny it was nice to have Namjoon to yourself before you left.

Now as you head off to work, showered and freshly dressed, with a turtleneck hiding your gift, you check your phone for the first time. Finding a string of apologetic messages sent from Jimin in the early hours of the morning. You reply apologizing too and asking to revisit the subject as soon as you get into work. Thankfully he agrees, the smiling emoji he ends his text on sends a wave of relief through you.

You step in the front entrance of your building ready to handle and objectively listen to Jimin’s thoughts and concerns. While you wait for the elevator your phone vibrates listing a call from an unknown number. “Hello?”

“Hey it’s Taehyung. Hope you don’t mind, I stole your personal number from my father.”

“Taehyung...” Heat starts to rise in your face at the thought of last night. The elevator arrives and you quickly step in. “No, not at all, to what do I owe the honour of this call.”

“No need to be so formal,” He giggles at you.

“Sorry, habit,” You respond. “What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to thank you for yesterday...” Taehyung starts off.

But his words are soon interrupted by someone shouting, “Hold the door.” You comply, pushing the button to keep them open, while trying to keep your focus on your conversation with Taehyung.

“...It’s not often that I meet someone who I can be so open with. I called the man you recommended and I’ve scheduled my first session with him tomorrow.”

You freeze, unable to fully comprehend what he’s saying, surely he misspoke. It can’t be his first session. “W-what do you mean your first session is tomorrow? You were there-” The collar hidden beneath your turtleneck feels as though it’s tightening around your throat. “Last night, I saw you-” The line goes dead as the elevator closes and starts to ascend. It was Taehyung in the bed with you and Namjoon last night. You saw... nothing you saw nothing because of the blindfolded that you were asked to wear.

“Everything okay?” You jump at the sound of the other voice, forgetting that some else had gotten into the elevator. Looking up you find Jimin there beaming at you, his head tilted from his query.

“Namjoon,” You flutter with your phone, too panicked to even greet your secretary properly. “I need to call Namjoon.” But the line won’t connect, not with you in the elevator. “Fuck...” You try again your patience not willing to wait the minute it’ll take to disembark on your floor.

You are almost there when the elevator shudders and stops. The sudden halt sends you off balance, but Jimin’s there to grab hold of you before you can fall. You thank him before stepping back and putting a bit of distance between the two of you again.

Jimin turns his attention to the panel, pushing the call button, he waits for someone to answer, but the call remains silent.

While he continues in his attempt to make contact, every scene of the night before floods back to your memory as you try to piece everything together. It was Taehyung, it had to be. He must just be playing a stupid joke. He was surely going to shout ‘gotcha’ before the phone disconnected, but you won’t know for certain until someone can get you off this blasted lift. You sink to the floor and Jimin follows, unable to reach anyone on the outside.

Despite your best efforts to rationalize what happened, your panicked breaths fail to slow, Spots start appearing in your vision as the elevator sways around you. Your breakfast threatens to make another appearance on the polished marble floor.

“It’ll be fine. Someone will notice soon.” Jimin attempts to comfort you but even that won’t quash the fear raging inside you.

“It’s not just that...” You whisper. “Something happened last night. I need to call Namjoon, I need to figure out...” Who was actually in that bed with you. Your confusion and panic break free sending you into a fit of tears as you hug your knees to your chest.

“Hush, it’s okay.” Jimin readjusts, moving in front of you and taking your hands in his. He leans towards you as he whispers in your ear. “Don’t cry babygirl.”

Your eyes snap to look at Jimin in alarm. Your prior worries are nothing compared to the terror which takes hold now. “H-how do you know that name?” Your stuttered words barely make their way past your lips.

“I think you know the answer to that question.” He pulls at the collar of his shirt allowing you to spot a large red mark on his neck, right where you had bitten the man you once thought to be Taehyung. “I wanted to wait a bit longer, I wanted more moments like we had last night but it would seem that someone had to go and ruin it.” You pull back but Jimin’s hands shift to take hold of your wrists, mimicking the manacles that embraced you the night before. “Are you not happy babygirl? You got your wish. And I... I got what I’ve always wanted.”

“This is so wrong Jimin! You knew I thought you were someone else! You knew that I wouldn’t have done that last night if I knew the truth.”

“Even though I was the one you really wanted babygirl?”

“Stop calling me that! Just because of what happened last night does not make me yours. You lied to Namjoon. You said that I sent you. You told him you were Taehyung!”

Jimin gives a wicked laugh in response to your accusations. “Oh, but you are mine. Namjoon is the one who’s been keeping things from you. He’s been in my employ far longer than yours.” He coos as his fingers tighten their grip on you. “I was the reason you were introduced to him, and I was the one who bestowed you with that name shortly after.”

“No, that’s not possible, Namjoon and I, we met at a charity event.”

“Hosted by my father. Where I told him to make himself known to you, to entice you to become one of his pets. I may have acted the sub last night but I am the one who holds Namjoon’s reins, I always have.”

“No he would never do that! He’s considerate and-”

“Had so much to gain by dominating you on my behalf. Money, power, and an assurance of safety, he would’ve been a fool to turn my offer down. Especially since you were so willing to play along with him. I dare say he enjoyed his time with you, but I was the one who permitted him to touch you. I was there to listen, to read, and to direct every conversation. Those gifts he told you to wear to the office, they were all from me.” He lets go of one of your wrists to pull down the neck of your shirt. Revealing the leather band strapped around your neck. “Today it’s the collar, yesterday it was the corset, and a few weeks ago...” Jimin smirks as he recalls the memory to your mind. “You barely made it through that meeting thanks to my gift.”

It’s impossible to swallow the admissions coming from him, but regardless of what may be true or false, you won’t stand for any of it. “You’ve had your fun, but this ends now.” You reach up attempting to remove the collar but Jimin pushes you to the floor pinning your arms above you as he straddles you. The elevator wavers from the struggle, teetering as you lay captive beneath him.

“I don’t think you understand the situation you’ve placed yourself in. I hold in my possession your darkest secrets. One’s that will ruin you if they make their way out. Your illegal activity with a sex worker, your inappropriate sexual conduct with your secretary. Not to mention the names and dubious activities of every client you’ve recommended to Namjoon’s services.”

“Why... why are you doing this?”

“Because you found me. I worked so hard to exploit my father from the outside, getting everything I wanted without the threat of public exposure. I couldn’t let you ruin it all. When we first met I considered you a threat, but then I saw how easy and enjoyable it was to mould to my will. The more intimate you become with someone the more power you give them over you. Simply being your secretary isn’t enough, not if I want you in a more pliable state.” Jimin hushed whisper mixes with a haunting giggle as his lips come to your ear. “I plan to bend you to fit every one of my needs.”

“You’re psychotic!” You lash out trying to throw him off but he stems your revolt by planting himself further down on to you, sitting on your chest as the elevator sways.

“Psychotic? No, I am simply a man who found his passion amidst his revenge. I know what I desire, and vengeance has taught me how best to take it. So if you want to keep yourself and everything else around you from falling, I suggest you play along like a good girl. Or I promise you, my punishments won’t be as kind as what you’ve experienced before.”

“What is it that you want?” You ask, already fearing his answer. He has you trapped in a gilded cage with him, where one misstep will send you plummeting to meet your end. Nothing that comes accompanied by such threats can be palatable.

“At work? To keep the status quo, I’ll remain your secretary, only so I can keep a better hold on you.”

“Hoseok won’t agree to that. He already thinks I should ditch you. I should have listened to him.”

“Then you will make him agree or he might have an accident, much like your accountant did. He too thought we were too close, even threatened to say something. Don’t worry I saved us from him, just as I’ll save us from Hoseok if you can’t convince him to back off. Do you think you can get him to agree now?”

You give a solemn nod, with Hoseok on the line you have no choice.

“After hours, we’ll drop the middleman.” Jimin lowers himself further on to you, laying down on top, his weight flattening you to the floor. With his head coming to rest on your restrained arm as he whispers further plans. “Every night you’ll come to me instead, and every morning you’ll have a new gift to wear. When we step off this elevator you’ll act as if nothing is wrong. You will go about business as usual, is that clear babygirl?”

You stifle a sob staring directly up and away from his eyes, not daring to give him the satisfaction of your fear. With little else to cling to, all you can do is agree for the time being, as much as it pains you, you choke out your compliance. “Yes...”

“Yes what?” Jimin purrs, his lips faintly touching your ear. “Address me properly, or I will find ways to discipline you right here on this lift.” His fingers tighten and nails bite into your skin.

“Yes sir,” you whine as a plea for him to stop.

Jimin mercifully lessens his hold on your wrists, hitting you instead with a smirk and befouled praise. “Good girl. I knew you’d finally see that I’m worth the risk.”

...

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redgillan · 4 years

Text

Under Pastel Skies - 5

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 4,569

Warnings: none

A/N: Let me just thank you for your support, it’s so heartwarming and I love you so much. I’m sorry this chapter is so long, I have no idea how that happened. I hope you enjoy this :’)

Wannabe sugar daddies, don’t interact with this post.

After you agreed to move in with Bucky and become a full time artist, everything started to move incredibly fast. The dinner went well, you worked out the details of your contract with Sam and Nat who didn’t seem surprised that this was happening.

You left your job almost overnight, only giving them two weeks’ notice. They easily found a new breakfast attendant and you even trained your replacement. You emptied your locker, returned your name tag and your master key, and went on your merry way.

Now you were on your way to Bucky’s apartment, a suitcase full of clothes between your legs and another full of administrative papers, beauty products and whatnot between Natasha’s legs. She had insisted on coming with you to help you get settled. You didn’t own furniture or anything that required her help so you figured she just wanted to make sure Bucky was treating you right.

He had already transferred your monthly allowance to your bank account, which prompted your bank to call you. They wanted to know where the 5 thousand dollars came from and you told them it was a gift. “If your friend’s looking for new friends give them my number, yeah?” the man on the phone told you.

The rocking motion of the train had a soothing effect on you, almost lulling you to sleep. You let your head fall against the window and played one of your favourite game –people watching.

There was a man reading a newspaper, standing with his feet apart as if the cart was one giant skateboard. A woman was putting on makeup, another was playing a game on her phone. The woman sitting next to you was wrestling with her toddler who wanted to snatch your scarf. It was a quiet day.

“Are we going to talk about it?” Natasha asked, her face as cold as stone.

“’Bout what?” you replied in a sleepy voice.

“About your crush on James.”

“I don’t have a crush on Bucky.”

As soon as the words passed your lips, a tiny, sticky hand landed on your jaw, making a wet slapping sound. You blinked hard, your eyes trained on Natasha who was now openly smiling at the toddler next to you.

“See? Even the baby knows you’re a liar,” she said, singing the last word.

You turned your head to look at the baby and saw him put his fist in his mouth, his eyes bright and wide. With a happy squeal he launched himself at you again, smacking you in the face. The mother apologized and held her child against her chest, softly admonishing him to stop throwing himself at strangers. You felt that. He spent the rest of the ride looking at you.

“So, really, you’re going to move in with a man you have a massive crush on, and we’re not even going to talk about it,” she pressed on.

You huffed, wiping baby goo from your cheek with your sleeve. “You’re like a dog with a bone.”

“And you’re the bone.”

You got off the train and walked to Bucky’s apartment, your suitcase rolling behind you. Natasha was silent next to you, something that almost never happened. You counted your steps in your head, waiting for her to speak.

“You didn’t have to move out of my apartment.”

22 steps. That’s how long Natasha managed to stay quiet for. “Of course, I had to. I’m not going to do Brooklyn-Chelsea every day.”

When Bucky had offered his guest bedroom, your first reaction had been to politely refuse. Bucky seemed like a nice guy, but what if he had a glass cage in his basement? What if he trapped you there and commissioned paintings to you? Psycho killer, qu'est ce que c'est.

Then he opened up about his past, his insecurities, and it made you long to hold him. There was a vulnerability in his eyes, the kind that only come from an unprotected heart. You realized there was more chance of you hurting him than the opposite.

“You’re the one who organized this whole thing,” you reminded Natasha.

“Yeah, but I didn’t know you had a crush on him. And if someone tells Okoye this was my idea, she’ll kill me.”

You turned to her with a not-sorry smile. “Yup.”

Your big sister was like most big sisters: extremely protective. When your mother had to work late, she was in charge and she took her role very seriously. You were nine when she finally got her driver’s licence, and that day she graduated from sister to mother. Eat your vegetables. Did you do your homework? I know you didn’t brush your teeth.

Okoye was loyal, protective, intimidating, and never afraid to speak her mind. When she decided to join the Dora Milaje, you thought the job was perfect for her –the king’s bodyguard, now that’s something you’d like to put on your resume.

“Do you want me to stay tonight?” Natasha asked as you got inside the elevator.

“Why are you so worried?”

“I don’t know.” She pressed her back against the wall and shrugged. “It’s always been you and me. Since first grade.”

You returned her sad smile with one of your own. “Heckle and Jeckle.”

She barked out a laugh at the memory. It was the nickname her father had for the two of you. It used to be a popular animated cartoon in the 50s. It was the story of two talking magpies who were always getting into some kind of trouble.

You stepped out of the elevator, still arguing about which one of you got to be Jeckle, the less problematic of the two, when you noticed that Bucky was patiently waiting for you by the front door. He didn’t say anything but there was an amused smile on his face.

He let you put your suitcases in the guest room near the kitchen and told you that he had to run a few errands, giving you a little privacy. Natasha hung up your clothes in the wardrobe while you unpacked your other stuff and put them away in the drawers of your dresser.

It didn’t take you long to unpack. When you were done, you threw yourself onto the bed, watching Natasha. You were excited to sleep in a real bed, you couldn’t stop running your hands up and down the comforter.

“Jeckle,” Natasha said, looking at the mostly empty wardrobe. “You need new clothes.”

“Ugh, yes,” you groaned from the bed.

When you were a teenager, you used to spend every weekend at the mall with your sisters and Natasha. Your wardrobe wasn’t big enough to fit all your clothes and your mother often asked you to get rid of the things you didn’t wear anymore. You never did.

Then life happened, and you didn’t have the energy or money to go shopping anymore.

You went to the kitchen to grab something to drink. Bucky’s fridge was even bigger than the one you had at work, and it was full of food in neatly labelled rows of Tupperware containers. The one in front of you was labelled ‘baby carrots’.

“Neat freak alert,” Natasha commented, peering over your shoulder into the refrigerator.

“Stop it.”

You took a bottle of water and sat at the kitchen island while Natasha continued investigating his kitchen. Bucky had several gadgets that few people had in their kitchen like a cutting board with suction cups on the bottom and nails on top to hold the food in place while slicing.

It was obvious that he liked to cook, and for some reason it made you smile. You pictured him cooking for one and your heart squeezed painfully in your chest. It was a sad mental image and you shook your head to get rid of it.

The front door opened and you lifted your head to see what Natasha was doing. She was holding Bucky’s meal plan, perusing it intensely. Bucky entered the room and greeted you with a smile before he made his way over to the fridge.

“Can I help you with anything?” he asked.

Natasha waved the meal plan in your direction mouthing ‘it’s laminated’ while Bucky retrieved a bottle of water for himself. You gestured wildly at her to put it back down.

“No, I’m good,” you replied with a slightly crazed smile. He looked between you and Natasha with a frown. “Natasha was about to leave.”

“Was I?” she replied, tilting her head.

“Yeah, you have stuff to do, remember?” You gave her a pointed stare.

“No.”

You widened your eyes at her and moved your head in the direction of the hallway that led to the front door. You tried to be discreet but you knew you weren’t fooling anyone. She watched you, unfazed.

Luckily, Bucky came to your rescue.

“Thank you for coming all the way out here, Natasha. Do you want me to call you a cab?” His tone left no room for discussion. You hid your grin behind your glass.

“That won’t be necessary,” she replied without looking at him.

You walked Natasha back to the front door and opened it. She glared at something over your shoulder and you turned to see if Bucky was there. He wasn’t.

“Wait, I forgot to tell him that if he hurts you I’ll kill him.”

You grabbed her by the shoulders when she tried to move past you. “I think he got the message. Thanks for coming with me. I’ll call you tonight.”

“You’d better,” she warned with a slow nod.

When you returned to the kitchen, it really dawned on you that you were alone with Bucky. He glanced up at you while he was going through his mail. You took your seat and nervously looked around the room. It was too quiet, you didn’t like it.

“I like your friend,” he said, grinning. “She seems very protective of you.”

“She is,” you sighed.

An uncomfortable and strangely melancholic silence hung between you. You were both afraid to say or do the wrong thing. You felt like you didn’t belong there; like a patch sewed on a worn out pair of jeans, mending holes.

“You ok?”

You looked up at him. “Yeah, I just feel a little awkward. I’m... not sure what you want me to do now.”

“Nothing,” he said, rounding the kitchen island to sit on the stool next to you. His eyebrows were pulled together in concern. “This is your home. You can do whatever you want.”

“It doesn’t really feel like my home.” You shrugged one shoulder. “It kinda feels like I just unloaded my crap in your guest room, which is exactly what happened.”

He observed you a moment. “Well, make it your home. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable here.”

“So,” you glanced at him sideways. “If I bought a few things to make this place more... homey, you wouldn’t be mad?”

The corners of his eyes crinkled up as his smile grew. “I’m begging you to make this place more homey. It’s really boring, isn’t it?” he said, looking around the kitchen with a comical frown.

You chuckled. “No, it’s not. Well, maybe a little.”

“Thank you for your honesty,” he said with a laugh.

Bucky watched you with his cheek in the palm of his hand. Your eyes were moving around the room, making mental notes of the things you wanted to add. He smiled, the sparkle was back in your eyes.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” he said, straightening up.

He left the room for a second and came back with his hand hidden behind his back. You looked at him with a playfully suspicious frown as he approached you. You followed his movements closely, your frown deepening when he placed a little white box on the kitchen counter.

“Open it.”

You removed the lid and pulled out a set of keys, undoubtedly the keys to his apartment. The keychain was gleaming the light; a small silver angel that fit snugly in the palm of your hand.

You barely managed to croak out a thank you before you threw yourself at him, hugging him tight. His body tensed instantly and you were about to apologize when you felt his arm wrap around you.

You felt pressure build in your throat, a tingling sensation in your nose, and tried to hide your face in the crook of his neck. The last thing you wanted was for him to catch you crying over a set of keys. Though deep down it wasn’t about the keys, it was the accumulation of pent-up emotions and the realization that you were now completely free to follow your dreams.

You released him but he was still hanging on to you. Tight. His heart was beating fast against your chest. He was a lonely man craving human interaction. So you closed your eyes and rubbed your hands up and down his back –gently and out of sync. After a few long minutes, he untangled himself from you.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, avoiding your eyes. “C’mon, there’s something else I want to show you.”

“Another gift?” You sighed his name when you noted the guilty expression on his face. “It’s too much.”

“It’s a practical gift, hardly a gift at all.”

He took you upstairs to the room that was now your studio. The room hadn’t changed since your last visit, except for the easel placed in the centre. You entered slowly as if you were approaching a frightened mythological creature. You ran your fingers along the wood, your chest tight with the heft of your emotions.

You hadn’t seen one in a while, and now it was right in front of you, beckoning. “Show me how you feel,” the easel said. “Show the world what you’re made of.”

“Thank you so much,” you said, your voice soft.

“I thought it was the perfect housewarming gift for you.”

You turned to him and smiled. “It is. I already bought everything I need. Paint, knives, brushes, canvases... an easel. Sorry, I didn’t know you were going to buy me one. It’s good to have more than one though. Online shops are a bit impersonal.” You walked toward the door where he was waiting. “I miss the smell of art supply stores. It’s so intoxicating, it really gets the creative juices flowing.”

“What does it smell like?”

You closed your eyes and tried to concentrate. “It’s a mix of paint and paper, a woody pencil-sharpening smell mixed with chemicals and ash.”

“Sounds relaxing.”

“It’s heaven,” you said with a dreamy sigh.

Bucky gave you a fond smile and glanced at the keychain still in your hand. “So that’s where angels come from, uh?”

You laughed and pushed his good shoulder playfully. Ever since that fateful day when Bucky asked you out for coffee and you mistook his business date for a romantic date, you learned not to take the things he said too seriously. Bucky was a nice guy, a bit of a flirt sometimes, but his intentions were clear. He wanted a companion, not a girlfriend.

The rest of the afternoon went by in a flash, you went to your room and rearranged a few things while Bucky stayed in his office. At dinnertime you set the table while he finished cooking. You sat in front of a bowl of homemade soup and a grilled cheese sandwich.

After you had practically licked your bowl clean, Bucky leaned back in his chair and watched you with a grin. You felt a little embarrassed. You wiped your mouth with your napkin, trying to look a bit more well-mannered.

“It was really good,” you said.

“Thank you. I gotta say, I was tired of cooking for one. It’s not fun.” He put your empty bowl in his and carried them to the sink. You gathered up plates and utensils and followed him. “You’ll have to tell me what you don’t like.”

“As long as you don’t make me eat broccoli ice cream, I’m good.”

He laughed, remembering your conversation from a couple of week ago. “I don’t think I can stomach it either.” He handed you two small plates and two forks. “I bought a cake. I thought we could celebrate our first day together. Is it creepy? I can’t tell.”

“No, that’s a great idea!” you laughed. “You’re making me feel like it’s my birthday.”

You carried everything to the table while he opened the fridge and retrieved a large pink cardboard box. He balanced the box in his hand, a sharp knife sitting on top. “I’m surprised you didn’t bake it yourself,” you said, picking up the knife.

“Dessert isn’t my forte.” He opened the cardboard box, revealing a three-layer red velvet cake. “I’m too much of a perfectionist. I can make pretty decent pies but sponge cakes are hard to control when you only have one hand.”

“We can bake cakes together if you want. I’m clumsy as hell but I’m willing to learn.”

“That’d be nice,” he replied with a smile.

It was, without a doubt, the best cake you’d ever had in your life. It was incredibly light. The chocolate and vanilla burst in your mouth, mixing perfectly with the bitterness of the buttermilk.

“Red velvet is my favorite,” Bucky said, licking his fork. “Blueberry cheesecakes are good too. And Blackout cakes, umm, so good. Except fruitcakes,” he said, his mouth twisted into a downturned grimace. “Fruitcakes are the devil.”

“You’ve got quite the sweet tooth.”

“You have no idea,” he said, shaking his head like he couldn’t quite believe it himself.

After a minute of silence, you said, “The last time I ate red velvet cake, my sister had put too much white vinegar. It was disgusting but we didn’t want to hurt her feelings so we ate all of it.”

Bucky chuckled. “How many siblings do you have?”

It was a standard get-to-know-you question and you knew he would ask it at some point. Yet, it made your guts twist in pain. It was a question you always dreaded because you didn’t have a clear answer to it. Should you leave Pietro out? He was gone but he was still your brother.

“I, uh,” you mumbled, staring down at your half-eaten slice of cake. “I’m not sure what the answer is.” He frowned at you, confused. “Do you... do you count the ones you lost?”

Understanding flashed in his eyes and he gave you a patient smile. “Yes, I do.”

You met his eyes and tried to smile, though you were pretty sure it looked more like a grimace. “I have four siblings then.” You took a forkful of cake and chewed slowly, allowing yourself a few seconds to clear your thoughts. Without success.

“I was adopted,” you revealed. His eyebrows rose in surprise but he let you continue. “We were all adopted. My mom lost her husband when she was young. They wanted to have a big family but they were too busy working. They both had very demanding jobs.”

“What did they do?”

“He was in the military, and she was the co-founder of an extra-governmental military counter-terrorism and intelligence agency.”

“That’s a mouthful,” Bucky chuckled.

“You should hear their name.” He gave you a ‘go ahead’ look. “It’s the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division.”

You watched Bucky process the name, waiting for the moment realization would dawn on him. Then his eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“S.H.I.E.L.D.? Your mom’s the co-founder of S.H.I.E.L.D.” He stared at you, his mouth wide open. “Your mom’s Peggy Carter!? Jesus Christ,” he sighed, shaking himself out of his stupor. “When we were kids, me, Stevie and a couple of other kids pretended to be secret agents working for S.H.I.E.L.D. We even had a name: the Howling Commandos.”

You screwed your eyes shut, a smile breaking across your face. “That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, embarrassment colouring his face. “I dunno why I’m telling you this. Please, don’t tell your mom.”

Your laughter died down, and you continued smiling at him. He was cute when he was flustered. You smothered that thought as soon as it materialized.

“I didn’t know she had adopted five kids.”

“Yeah, I guess her job as the co-founder of one the most important secret agency gave her the freedom to adopt without having to wait.”

“Do you get along with your siblings?”

“Yeah,” you said. “I mean, kinda. Scott, my older brother, is a few years younger than you. He’s really smart but he’s a big goof. He left for San Francisco when I was a kid. My sister, Okoye, left when I was 19. She’s King T’Chaka’s bodyguard.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah,” you chucked. “The twins are only three years older than me. We were really close, but then Pietro,” you took a small pause, “he, um, he died and, Wanda, she couldn’t stay anymore. It was too much, y’know. She went to Sokovia -where they were born- and she never came home. Last I heard, she was backpacking through Europe.”

“You still have your mom though,” Bucky said with a warm smile.

“She’s in London,” you said, smiling even though you had to dig your nails into your palm to keep yourself from crying. “She’s in a nursing home. She was diagnosed with a form of dementia, something similar to Alzheimer. She has no idea who I am.”

You tried to speak in a normal, detached tone but your voice wavered and you fought not to cry. Bucky reached for your hand, your nails had left half-moon indentations in your palm. Wordlessly, he smoothed his thumb over your palm, inspecting the damage.

“I’m here,” he said, his voice soft.

Until now it had never occurred to you that you had never said those things out loud before. Natasha knew because she’d been with you through all of it. She was your best friend, the only person who hadn’t abandoned you yet.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d met someone new, someone you felt comfortable enough to talk to about your family.

You didn’t want to end the day on a sad note, so you pulled yourself together. You straightened up, wiped your eyes and sniffed back the tingling feeling in your nose. Bucky seemed to notice that you wanted to change the subject because he let go of your hand and picked up his fork again.

“So,” you said after clearing your throat. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“It’s a serious question and it’s important that you tell me the truth.”

Bucky flinched, his throat working as he swallowed past the lump in his throat. “I promise.”

You took a deep breath and rotated your head left and right, working the kinks out of your neck and back. Then you levelled him with a direct stare.

“What’s your favourite colour?”

Bucky recoiled as if he had misheard you. He looked momentarily startled by your question before he burst into laughter. When your face remained stoic, he realized you weren’t joking. “Oh? Umm, I don’t know.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He seemed lost in thought for a second. “I like blue.”

“Which blue? Navy? Tiffany blue? Sapphire? Baby blue? Teal? Duck-egg? Turquoise?” you enumerated them quickly.

“Just...blue?” he replied carefully. You took a deep breath and released it slowly, shaking your head. “No, wait,” he added in a hurry. His eyebrows pinched together in concentration while he was trying to come up with a better answer. “The color of the sky when a storm is brewing. That’s my favorite color.”

You smirked. “Poetic.”

“Well, I’m a writer,” he replied with a lopsided grin. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Oh no, you can’t ask me that. I’m a painter, it’s like asking a parent who their favourite child is.”

“Fair enough,” he conceded, waving his hand to dismiss the question. “Let me ask you an equally important question.”

“Oh, boy,” you laughed.

The warmth of his laughter was reassuring. It made you feel at ease, calm. What you hadn’t realized yet was that you weren’t trying to change your personality to please him. You were yourself, flaws and all.

“When you read a book, how do you keep track of your reading?” he asked. “Do you use a bookmark? Receipts? Candy wrappers? Book ribbon? Do you fold the corner of the page? Do you leave the book face down or memorize the page number? I need to know.”

You didn’t have to think about it. “Dog ears.”

“Oh, God, you’re a folder.” He stared up at the ceiling and sighed heavily. “I think I got you all wrong. You’re not an angel, you’re a little demon.” He pressed his lips together in a thin line to hide a smile.

He quickly gathered up the dirty plates and carried them to the sink while you remained seated at the table, laughing. You turned in your chair and saw him fill the sink with hot water and suds. What kind of millionaire doesn’t own a dishwasher?

“I bet you also write in ‘em,” he said, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a hint of a smirk.

“No, I would never,” you said, joining him at the sink. “I like books that look old though. Cracked spines, folded corners, tea or coffee stains.”

“Please, stop I’m going to hyperventilate,” he joked.

You chuckled. “Do you a have a towel?” you asked, giving him a little tap with your hip so he would scoot sideways.

He let go of the knife he was washing and pulled out a towel from the cabinet under the sink. You were a bit in awe of the way he cleaned everything with only one hand but you didn’t want to sound condescending so you kept it to yourself.

“What’s the point of having books if they look like nobody’s ever opened them?” you said. “I want to know my books had a good life before I bought them. I want to know they were loved. Sometimes when you love something, you mess it up a little.” He rinsed a plate and handed it to you. “I bet you have one of those sentence pointer bookmarks.”

He stayed quiet for a moment and you cursed yourself, thinking you might have hurt his feelings with your little teasing. His meal plan was fucking laminated, of course he had a sentence pointer bookmark. When he spoke, you felt like you could breathe again.

“I do have a bookmark. My niece made it for me at school. It’s pink and it has a braided pink and purple ribbon. No sentence pointer.”

His rueful smile and slightly red cheeks made your chest warm. You had to remind yourself that Bucky wasn’t flirting with you. He was just being nice.

“I’m jealous,” you said. “I wish I had one.”

“That can be arranged,” he nodded, his bottom lip jutting out in a pensive pout.

You wondered what this would look like if someone were to enter the room right now. They’d see you and Bucky, standing side by side at the sink as though you were the protagonists of a Norman Rockwell painting called ‘Domestic Bliss’. You wanted more days like this one.

“Yeah?” you breathed out. “You sure?”

“Anything for you, angel.”

Part 6

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagines #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel imagine #bucky barnes imagine #redgillan #redgillanwrites

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worryinglyinnocent · 3 years

Text

Fic: I Who Have No Need

Summary: Rumpelstiltskin tries to get to grips with those very annoying things called feelings, attempting to avoid his growing infatuation with Belle as much as possible.

Written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling December random prompt: Avalanche (song)

Rated: G

I Who Have No Need

Rumpelstiltskin isn’t really sure when he started to fall head over heels in love with his maid, but it’s really very annoying, because it’s something that he absolutely can’t control, and the idea of being enthralled like this is almost terrifying to him.

Ever since becoming the Dark One, Rumpelstiltskin has, he will be the first to admit, revelled in the power that it brought him. His greatest regret is that it separated him from Bae, and he will do everything in his power to reunite with his son, but all the same, he made a vow when he took on this power that no-one would ever hold dominion over him again. He would make the rules and he would extract the prices. He will always set them fair, but he will not be cheated out of them.

And now, this has happened, and Belle has come into his life. He can’t deny that he was the one who chose her as his price, and he was the one who brought her here, so really, he knows that he’s brought it on himself, in a way.

All the same, he doesn’t think that he can be held entirely responsible. He didn’t know that she was going to affect him in this maddening manner. She holds power over him entirely without realising it, and that’s the most terrifying thing of all. Perhaps if she knew about the effect that she has on him, it would be easier to mask it because he would be on his guard all the time, looking out for any chance she might be taking of exploiting the monster’s weaknesses.

As it is, she just goes about her day blissfully ignorant of the torture she’s inflicting on Rumpelstiltskin as his common sense does battle with his constant paranoia and all of the voices of the Dark Ones that came before keep battling for dominance in his head. Some of them like Belle, some of them are suspicious of her, all of them are telling him that he’s a complete idiot for letting her get into his head like this.

He finds it so ironic that he can have pretty much anything he desires - he has the magic and the means, and he has the power of so many deals and owed favours on his side. And yet, the one thing that he wants is the thing that’s so very close to him and yet so very unattainable. Belle is really not someone for the likes of him, a hideous old monster shut up in his dark castle with his dark deeds. She’s bright and happy and deserves someone who can make her even more so, not someone like him.

It almost makes him angry, in a way. He’s the Dark One! He’s not looking for love! He doesn’t need it! Why is this happening to him?

He’s been stung by his own deal, which, whilst not an entirely new experience for him, is still sharp enough to make him wince. He is so tempted to try and solve the problem by simply sending Belle back whence she came. After all, he’s got magic enough to keep the castle in order without the help of a maid; he doesn’t exactly need a caretaker, he managed perfectly fine without one for the however many hundred years before Belle came into his life.

But their deal was for forever, something that Belle gladly agreed to if it would save her people, and if he lets her go now, she’ll want some kind of an explanation, even if he does give her a reassurance that it does not negate their previous deal and her friends and family back in the Marchlands will still be safe.

He’s not inclined to give her that explanation, and he does not want to have to pick apart the threads of magic that the deal was woven with.

So, Belle stays, and Rumpelstiltskin does the next best thing, avoiding her as much as possible. He stays shut up in his tower throughout the days and nights, waving Belle away when she comes in with his meals. Eventually, she takes to just leaving the tray outside the door and not even venturing into his domain, since his manner with her is so brusque and offhand. The last few times she did come in, Rumpelstiltskin could see the hurt in her face when he shooed her out again, and it made him sigh to think of it, because she’s so lovely and so wonderful, and he really doesn’t want to hurt her.

Maybe he’ll stop feeling this way about her if he infuriates her to the point of hating him, because it’s hard to love someone who hates you. But Belle never seems to show any hatred. Just confusion, and hurt, not knowing what has happened to spark this change in him.

Rumpelstiltskin tries to use the excuse that it’s all her fault that this is happening, that if she hadn’t been so beautiful both in face and spirit, he would never have fallen in love with her, but he knows that he’s being silly, and she can’t help his feelings.

Still, he thinks it best to avoid her. Just in case he ends up doing something that he regrets, something that will let her know the power that she has over him.

He thinks that his ploy is working perfectly until the moment he comes face to face with Belle and realises that she can be just as sneaky as he is. She’s brought him tea this afternoon like usual, setting the tray outside the door and knocking, and Rumpelstiltskin has heard the light tap of her feet moving down the staircase.

When he opens the door to retrieve his tea, however, he finds that Belle has not gone down the staircase. She’s standing right outside the door with her shoes in her hands where she has silently come back up again, and he does not have enough time to escape back into his workroom before she speaks.

“Have I done something to upset you, Rumpel?”

Rumpelstiltskin is so caught off guard by her appearance where he wasn’t expecting it that all he can do for the next few moments is just stare at her open-mouthed for a while. Finally, he shuts his mouth. Of course, the answer is yes, she has done something to upset him, but since the thing she has done equates to ‘existing’ and she doesn’t really have any control over that, he can’t really tell her so.

“I never see you anymore,” she continues. “You always shut me out. I know we’re not exactly friends, but I like to think that we used to be civil to each other. Now you act like you can’t stand the sight of me and I’m some kind of evil presence that needs to be warded off. I don’t understand what I did wrong.”

Rumpelstiltskin opens and closes his mouth a few more times, willing some words to come out of it. None do. He can’t really tell her that he’s afraid of her. That would be absolutely ridiculous. Likewise he can’t really tell her the truth. That would also be ridiculous and would probably send her running for the hills.

So, to get around this difficult situation of not knowing what to say, Rumpelstiltskin takes the easy (some would say, himself included, cowardly) way out and just slams in the door in Belle’s face.

“I’m not going away until you talk to me, Rumpel!” Belle says crossly from the other side. He hears her small ‘hmph’ and knows she’s standing there staring at the door with folded arms and tapping bare foot, and in spite of everything, Rumpelstiltskin has to smile at the image. Still, he doesn’t open the door, and although it’s given him some thinking space, it’s not really given him all that much thinking space, and he’s certainly not using it to do any actual thinking.

“I’ll eat all your cookies if you don’t come out!” Belle calls.

Against his better judgement, Rumpelstiltskin opens the door at that.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Belle just raises an eyebrow and bites into a cookie. Rumpelstiltskin growls. Although it’s clear that she’s hurt by his rejection of her, she still shows no fear of him. She’s not shown any fear of him since he gifted her the library.

Why did he do that again?

Belle continues to eat the cookie as Rumpelstiltskin resorts to his last line of defence against his own stupidity and knocks his head repeatedly against the doorframe. He knows that to the outside observer the scene would be alarming, but Belle takes it all in her stride. She’s taken pretty much everything about him in her stride so far.

“Cookie?” She holds out the plate. “Rumpel, what’s going on?”

He sighs, and takes a cookie, and gestures for Belle to follow him into the workroom. She picks up the tray and comes inside.

“You haven’t done anything,” Rumpelstiltskin admits. “I just find you…”

Confusing? Distracting? Completely and utterly adorable? What’s the right word?

“You find me…” Belle prompts.

“Terrifying.”

That was not the right word.

Belle takes a step back.

“I terrify you? How?”

“No, no, that came out wrong. You in yourself aren’t scary. I’m just…”

“Oh.”

Realisation dawns on Belle’s face and Rumpelstiltskin feels like a rabbit staring down a wolf, although there’s nothing wolfish in Belle’s smile. It’s as friendly and open as it always is, no malice in it. In fact, there’s something of a blush in her cheeks, and a hint of hope in her eyes.

“Well, whenever you’re ready to conquer your fear, I’m still here. And believe me. You have nothing to be scared of.”

She pecks a little kiss to his cheek and leaves the workroom, Rumpelstiltskin watching stunned as she hurries down the steps. He’s still processing what just happened, but maybe, just maybe, his feelings aren’t quite such a cause for panic and concern as he thought they were ten minutes ago.

#A Monthly Rumbelling #rumbelle fic #rumbelle #Belle French #Rumpelstiltskin #Dark Castle #Enchanted Forest #Relationship Beginnings #Fluff #Fic: I Who Have No Need

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alias-b · 4 years

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sins of my youth. 020

Billy Hargrove x OC! Evie Fenny~ Also posted to my AO3

Summary: It was common knowledge that Billy Hargrove hated Hawkins. Hated Cherry Lane. Even loathed the strange girl next door. Evie Fenny wasn’t too fond of the chaotic Cali transfer either. An awful high school tradition sparks a chain of events that changes everything, ultimately bringing two frayed souls together.

A/N: Hello everyone. Thanks for clicking in to read. Billy and Evie continue to explore their new relationship together. Max's fourteenth birthday party marks a change for the teens, reminding them that danger isn't too far off. TW: Neil being Neil. Mentions of abuse. Something close to an almost assault/abduction off screen near the end. Light mentions of Pica & fatphobia. Sexual themes

***My tag list is wide open, just shoot me a msg to join it! Chat with me about the chapter if you have the time! Enjoy! xoxo

Chapter 20: Rose Tint My World

“Hold still, I’ll poke your eye again.”

“I can’t breathe, you’re killing me.” Came a sniffled whine.

“Such a baby. You asked.”

“I said I was curious after you put the gunk on my nails!”

“That gunk was a great color on you. You whine just like your big brother.” Carol had Max’s face clamped in her grip as she applied mascara. “Don’t blink, you'll smear it.”

“Evie, she’s killing me,” Max lamented aloud. “This is not worth it.” Evie just laughed, setting a bowl of pretzels aside. Carol flicked a mirror up to let Max see her handiwork. “Whoa...It’s not terrible.” She gruffed in a mumble, tilting her head to see each angle. "Kinda like Madonna."

“I’ll take it.” Carol stole some M&Ms from another dish as they shared a spot on Heather’s fuzzy carpet. A movie rolled on in the corner TV.

Max about howled when Heather came in from the bathroom, face covered in green.

“Monster!”

“It’s a face-mask!” Heather planted her hands on her hips, prompting more laughter. “You’ll be more into them once your body really changes.”

“Girls are way scarier than boys.” Max poked at her blushed cheek which had Carol smacking her hand away. Evie was draped across the bottom of the bed in her robe and nightie, half-watching the TV. “Can you do a zombie make-up?”

Carol gave a snort.

“I can do anything. kid.”

“Eves, you want another piece of pizza?” Heather crossed with the box.

“I’m so full.” Evie shook her head.

“You had like one piece.”

“I ate a big lunch. And lots of pretzels.” Evie snatched the pretzel bowl again for good measure. Truthfully, her appetite had been up and down lately. Mostly down. What with the pangs in her stomach that always passed and… “You sound like my mother.”

“She was...extra peppy at the salon today. My mom and I got our monthly trim.”

“Probably some guy she’s seeing, it’ll pass and another will come. Men are like Kleenex to her. Soft, strong, and disposable.” Evie shrugged to pluck up a magazine.

“Hey,” Max began as Carol fussed over her, “so I didn’t want to make a thing of it, but my mom keeps insisting. My birthday party is coming. She and Neil saved so I could have it just at the roller rink and...they said I could invite whoever I wanted. But, I can’t ask the guys to come. So I figured I’d ask El. She’s really cool. But, maybe if you guys wanted to come? You can bring boys and pretend you’re not even at my party if it’s not your thing. I just-”

“Max, we’d love to come.” Heather piped up first. “Evie and I rule the rink too.”

“I look very cute in skates,” Carol agreed with a twitching smirk. “I'm in. I’ll bring Tommy, he sucks and he’ll fall down a bunch. We'll pretend we ran into each other so your stepdad can get the stick out of his ass.”

“Billy has to go too cause Neil says it’s a family event.” Max turned to Evie. “I think he’d be happier with you there.”

“I think Billy and I both are fine being there for you. I had my fourteenth at the rink too. It’ll be fun.” Evie beamed, legs up to sway idly. “Plus we haven’t met the Chief’s kid. She’s home-schooled, right?”

“Yeah, she might be joining us in school next year.” Max stayed still for Carol’s brush. “Depends. She was uh...adopted under weird circumstances. You’ll like her. I taught her how to do that felting thing because of you and she made this funny one of her dad.”

“I’ll bet Hopper loved that.” Evie winked.

“He’s kind of a babe in like a scruffy, rugged way,” Carol remarked. "Strong mountain man type."

“Ew. He’s so old.” Max reeled back to laugh.

“I’m just saying! I like a man in uniform. He rocks the khaki.”

“The moms in town do eat him up.” Heather shrugged, joining Evie on the bed with a handful of candy. “We all have our strange crushes. I like high cheek-bones. Guys with a little Bowie. Evie? You got one?”

“Gia Carangi even if she isn’t modeling any more, I love her face.” Evie was flicking pages without looking. Howls from the TV went ignored through the chatter.

“I called that. Fenny being into ladies. Try Iman.” Carol winked which earned her a look as if she hadn’t planted a kiss on Evie in a fit of rage.

“People say Billy’s pretty like a girl.” Max had added which got the other girls giggling.

“I like this one, we’re so keeping her.” Carol got up to root for a bag of chips, popping them open. “Like the zombie face better?”

“I still look too pretty.” Max appeared more goth than zombie.

“You are pretty. Deal with it. We redheads stick together.” Carol stole Evie’s magazine. “Let us know when the party is, we’ll be there.”

Max looked at the three older girls squished together on Heather’s bed. Chattering and supporting. Happy to have her around.

A bright smile touched her face for the first time since Neil Hargrove walked into her home.

** ** **

Most days, all it felt like was floating. Floating through her house. Through Hawkins. Up and down streets. Through school. A stunning illusion she pulled like wool over her dark eyes.

A woman in rippling silks walking endless halls toward a great, cherry red door at the end, but the door gets farther away and she's thrilled to continue on even still. Feather wings glittering to unfold from her back because heaven's light is beyond the door. Crystalline eyes with their hold. Waiting for her. The sky awaits her with caressing clouds. Opulent gold sun rays and twinkling stars when the world lies down.

Evie knew she was too big for her wings most days. Too heavy to leave the Earth.

Knew in her beating heart of hearts that was the first thing people think when they see her. This magnificent soul with drive and neon and talent reduced to a single shrewd glance. And they don't think twice until she's something vaguely sexual. Something marketable you can package and process and sell to the last drop.

Easier to stomach something uncomely if you can slide into it ruthlessly to rut. They always come like animals, wailing as a banshee would to get off better than they ever will in their small lives. They eat it up. Cover it in sweat and regret and blame.

These things that hang as little weights on her heartstrings swinging back and forth. They make her not want to attempt extending those wings to fly. Fear of heads shaking in judgement. Fear of looking uglier. More foolish for even trying. Poor thing.

All because of one glance that couldn't be bothered to see worth in another human life. Sometimes Evie wanted to be skinny not because of beauty, but because she'd get a privilege pass to exist in this world.

They think she shouldn't dress the way she does. She's probably lazy and self loathing because of added pounds. She has no real aspirations or means to achieve them. Those eyes that watch her eat. That shift away before they decide on another seat because the one open next to her just isn't right. They glare because of the extra room she might take up. Even sharing a few cordial words with fat girls seemed to be a task.

Evie always notices and does the polite thing pretending she doesn't. She knows what her body looks like, no need to point out the obvious.

Strange, how these snap judgements, these eyes that don't look twice; can villainize a body utterly. A body. Flesh, bone, and muscle. We're all made in heaven's image. All destined for paths we seek to control. Superiority should have been an illusion. But no, too much or too little, your worth dips low. Fetishes and internalized hatred for things that were shaped and colored differently. Blame.

But, some days, when the wind soars just right...just strong enough...Evie can spread and illuminate. See the births and deaths of a million stars. Drop the little weights to feel the winds between her fingers. In her curls. In her wings. Feel her feet leave the floor for just a few fleeting seconds.

The fleeting seconds of soaring always seem so worth it against a world of unsightly aches. Against snap judgements she can toss back to live in a flower petal haze.

Evie tried hard to live in those moments when they flashed into her. Spotlights. Butterflies delicately landing on her flesh to open and close their stained glass wings for kisses. Evie felt crushed utterly in the most decadent way.

Billy's soft lips on her neck to get lost in the pulse. Deft fingers that would push up her clothing as he moved in her. Eyes that wanted to see her. All of her. The prayers he could whisper against heating skin.

A lot could be said about him. But, Billy was always happy to see her and that alone was air spinning into gold. His eyes would light up. Lips twitching. She could hear the single beat that his heart skipped. Even if they didn't speak, they felt this awareness for each other in the vicinity. Truly magic.

Those eyes. That love of a face. Always staring pointedly to read her up and down. Always plucking the weights from her heart by listening. Always unafraid to touch her. Evie hoped she returned that. She really did.

Fleeting seconds began to linger between them. Seeping slow and saccharine as fresh pouring honey.

Sneaking away on walks while he let her hold his hand. Flirtation against school lockers that ended in several 'just one more' kisses. Double dates to the movies with Tommy and Carol. Sitting separately to make out.

Driving up near Lover’s Lake to kiss in a parked Camaro while the sun laid itself down to sleep. Fumbling playfully to undress and explore. Watching the construction of a coming mall with Slurpees from the gas station. Tongues and lips colored all artificial cherry and strawberry.

Evie would stretch her wings completely. Let Billy admire them until the world was all satin rose-tinted. She could forget her urges and worries and insecurities. All together. This was fine.

She was fine. More then fine.

He so liked to admire her wings. Pleasure crushed in as she moaned. Let his fingers explore contours and notches untouched before. Billy would take those prayers on his lips and drape them over her body. Spell them between fleshy thighs. Pulling more fleeting seconds for himself too.

They could roll around under sheets and not worry about anything else. Have conversations that always felt silly and wonderful and weighted because they both mattered to someone so ardently. That alone was an ocean both could sink into.

Something beautiful to behold. The real vision behind the great red door. Your soul mattering.

Evie was in a bubble with Billy Hargrove. A stupid, dopey look on her face when Mona settled dinner down one evening. Steam rising from a huge pot.

“Going out later?” Evie began to create sound or she'd be lost. "You colored your hair brown again."

“Needed another change. Ah, I'm going out just with Karen and Claudia. Dessert and wine night. I asked Susan but that poor thing keeps standing me up. Did you finish Max’s gift for her party?” Mona scooped up huge portions in a bowl that Evie would only be prodding at.

“Yeah, it’s set. Turned out perfect. She’s not much for jewelry but I think a personalized tie dye shirt will be fun. Might look cool while skateboarding. I also have that goody bag of sweets for her to fill up on we made.” Evie reminded herself to pick up her spoon. Took a few bites.

“You’re not scarfing it down like usual, you love my crawfish soup.”

“It’s delicious, I just had a big lunch.” A lie. Evie pressed herself to eat quicker, tearing a piece of fresh bread to chew. Thing was, she wanted to eat. She wanted to eat so badly despite the sickness welling inside her. The heavy ache made it a task. Mona eyed her daughter there. “My stomach's in knots a lot, just school stuff.”

“Well, you are a senior.” Mona pushed her own soup around. “I haven’t been around as much as I’d like to be. Just the salon and I met-”

“I get it.” Evie’s lips spread in a flash, not wanting her mother to finish that sentence. “I’m with friends a lot and I keep busy with my music and the cat. I even wrote a new song.”

“That’s two this week, you. Strumming along blissfully.” Mona gushed. “Whatever has you all creative and dewy, chase it.” Silverware clicked around and Evie stared at her dish. A broader smile crossed.

"I will."

“What’s it called?”

“Ocean Eyes.”

Evie could be pretty transparent in the early stages of a relationship.

These short weeks in with Billy. Lyrics flooded free. Sometimes he liked to watch her write and strum when they hung out. Trips to the lounge where she worked other nights got him a full show, but not of her original stuff. Songs marched forth.

“Ocean Eyes.”

“Cupid and Psyche.”

“Honey Stardust.”

“Neon-Tinted Hearts.”

Rock. Pop. Lush and obscene with her glowing heartstrings. She wrote them for Fredrick too when they got together.

“Doll Joints.”

“Lollipop Lolita.”

“Prince Charming.”

After dinner, Evie stole a notebook filled with her every sinful lyrical confession of her time with Fredrick Bowers. Burnt it in an empty pot out back until Billy wandered out the back steps of his place. Asking her if she was trying to set the neighborhood on fire.

“How can I help?” He’d snarked while the sky went all pretty peach fuzz. Evie just laughed and never explained what she’d burnt or why it felt this cathartic to watch the smoke rise toward a falling sun. She figured maybe this was the day she'd stop eating foreign and sharp objects. She could do it. She was happier. Lighter. It had to stop.

It had to. She couldn't think about this haze shattering, it hurt too deep.

Billy used the flame to light his cigarette comically and kissed her before inhaling the smoke.

“Can we take a drive? Or walk if you’re low on gas?”

“Let’s walk, I got some cash doing my odd jobs for the damn neighbors, but I need it to last a bit longer with Max’s birthday. Got her this new board she was too chickenshit to beg our parents for.”

“Aren’t you a darling big brother?” Evie crossed her arms to follow him when the flame dwindled low. They went around the house to the front, started down the street. “Iris has some hours for me that next Saturday night.”

“You going to tell your mom about the secret job thing?” Billy inhaled and let smoke billow up into the afternoon light. They walked along Cherry Lane. Not touching. Counting steps while their shadows cast and the streetlights came up. A brisk night loomed, spring begging to creep through the month of March.

“I figured I could this summer. Around graduation. Just say I got something bigger since I’m eighteen and Iris can get me steadier hours. Gigs day or night. Maybe I’ll get to host a couple more drag shows. I miss those damn girls, the funniest performers know. I'll just let my mom down easy about the receptionist thing, hopefully she’s fine with it. Make it sound like I took initiative cause I'm a big girl.”

“And your grand singer plans?” He liked to ask about her and hang upon the syllables.

“Still up in the air. I’m taking the year off to work and write. Try for a talent agent or manager. I can record maybe...try to get airtime. There’s this contest thing, they do it every year and the winners always do well. But, I’m honestly too afraid to ask my mom about it just yet. I’m saving though here and there.” Evie beamed. “You? Summer and on.”

She was clearly asking if he was sticking around for summer.

“Odd lawn, house, and car jobs are getting me by. This whole street is a mess and the moms in town like to watch me work."

"Yikes."

"It means better pay and tips. I’m taking Heather up on her lifeguard offer this summer. I'll save up, Dad's already going to be asking for rent when I graduate."

"Shit."

"Yeah. Don’t wanna bank on that mall they’re opening with all the other little shits trying to get jobs first.” Billy leaned back to let the cooler air kiss his face, sighing before he tossed his smoke out.

Evie came to the end of the street near the forest, swayed around a streetlamp like she was in an old Hollywood flick. Dreaming long and endless. Sometimes she worried so often that she wasn't living. Just dreaming it all away. Maybe a center line was possible.

Maybe she'd be able to soar over it all.

Billy waited for her to swing back around it before he pressed into her for a slow, lingering kiss. Even better, maybe they both were sharing a dream. Making it of something stronger.

“So, how am I doing?” He joked lighter. Evie gripped the lamp to stay level, head tilting. “Two weeks in, almost three. This whole situation.”

“Situation.” Evie mused, slyly hiding half her face behind the lamp to hum. The shadowy starlet of a femme fatale she loved to watch on television with her mother. Glinting. Dangerous. "This whole situation?" She lingered to sigh it even slower.

"You and me." He'd sounded out, drawing nearer. "Us..." Evangeline, always the playful nymph, flitted off playfully. Spinning the other way to walk along so Billy came to her side easily.

“I think you’re doing fine." She tapped her chin. "What about me? Evaluate my performance.”

“Ah. In a sea of slithery tadpoles, you’re a goddamn firecracker.” He’d laughed and Evie followed, covering her lips with one hand.

“I don’t know how any of that correlates or makes sense, but I’ll take it.”

“Neither do I. Just made it up to see you do that. The scrunchy thing you do when you’re too happy or upset with me.” Billy’s nose crinkled as he grinned there. Evie came up to peck his freckles.

“You’re a total sap, Hargrove.” Evie continued, hands clasped behind her back before she inhaled the air. “Let’s hit that mini mart nearby. I’m craving a Dr. Pepper. Buy you a soda. It’s my turn.”

“No, it isn’t. You’re just being too nice again,” Billy remarked, feet shifting slower as they crossed the street. “I can’t take you fancy places.”

“I don’t need to go to fancy places, I just like hanging out with you wherever.” Evie turned her head to see him. “We’re both poor, we make due. Summer will be better. We can just work and...figure this out. I like it right now though, so don’t worry because I know how you shiver in those boots.”

She pondered it.

“Do you like it?” Evie offered quieter, earning Billy’s eyes searching her expression. Lip twitching, he tossed his arm around her. Brought Evie taut into his frame with an easier grin so they could keep walking toward the whirling, illuminated sign in the distance.

“Yeah, I like it.” He decided. “I like you plenty. What's not to like, Evangeline?” His free hand gestured out and Evie beamed to point at that darling face. Her Eros. Encouraging her wings to unfold without pressure.

"Wow, you're getting better and better at that." A beat. "Making me blush without rolling my eyes."

"Please, Angel, your knees quiver every time I hit you with this smile. You might as well toss off the panties for me." For good measure, he flashed it and Evie hid from his absolute burning charm. Cheeks felt that fire bloom and billow.

A car hurried past them. Sweeping budding flowers and loose leaves about. Delicate, they danced. Trees wobbled back and forth to the wind picking up. Evie stayed looking away to smile that time. Knew this wind would carry her easily.

"Did you have a best friend back in California?" She moved her arm around his back as they went.

"I don't know. Guess I had a few in orbit."

"Am I your best friend here?" She piped back up and Billy slowed to glance, chuckling.

"I thought you and I were avoiding labels."

"It's different." Came the protest.

"No, it isn't." He paused. "Heather's your best friend."

"Yeah, but I figured I could have more than one. Perfectly carved places for each." Evie shifted in front of him, hands smoothing up Billy's shoulders to clasp fingers round his neck. Blue eyes glittered to search.

"You trying to push some admission outta me, Fenny?"

Lashes batted with all the innocence they could hold.

"Just admit it, Hargrove," she pulled him down for a lip lock, pecking his jaw and cheeks until he broke to laugh and hold her at bay. One brow lifted. "It'll be our dirty little secret."

"Fine. Only cause you twisted my arm about it and it gets you hot. You are my very," he palmed her bottom to make her gasp in one motion, "very best friend. Happy?" Billy stole a kiss when she was still dumbfounded, molding their frames together.

"Maybe I am." Evie sighed, sounding too raw and honest about it. She came out to see his eyes there. Tried to read them. Billy blinked to say something else.

“So, you're already thinking about graduation and summer, huh? Moving quick.”

“I’m optimistic is all. It’s a rare thing with me so I'm just enjoying it. I’m not used to happy and good.” Evie got cheeky to hide anything else, winking over her shoulder before she went inside the tiny store.

Fluorescent lights washed out too many colorful packages. They picked cold cans of soda and bright yellow packs of Jujyfruit candies to curb a sweet craving. Billy gripped the paper bag in one fist and Evie snatched his free hand when they got outside.

“C’mon!” She picked up the pace. “Let’s catch the bus to the other side of town.”

“Billy Hargrove doesn’t take the bus. It’s all full.” He’d complained, still rushing after her to the stop.

“Try something new.” Evie was giggling, tugging at him to get on.

With the bus full of residents leaving work, they took some standing room with a group up front. Fingers curled into the handles above, swaying closer together due to the rocking and crowding. A hard turn sent Evie into Billy’s chest, her hand sprang out over his shoulder to catch the bar just above his head.

“Trying to jump my bones in public, little Miss Fenny?” He feigned a look of awe, brows lifting playfully. His free arm slipped around the small of Evie’s back, bracing her there into his marble frame. “You know how much easier it is if you just ask, Angel?”

Evie wanted to scoff. Wanted to scrunch that annoyed look she was known for. Wanted to send him to the floor and kiss him for miles and miles. But, she just stood there in the dim, flickering bus lights. Watched his expression relax. Not really breathing until she reminded herself.

Billy seemed to remember as well. At the back and forth shifting of the vehicle, they squished together. Forcing looks away to see the path again. Billy pushed his thigh further between her legs. Both of them idly rubbing together now. Evie felt the heat crawl up her cheeks, lungs tremoring. Billy’s fist holding the bag shifting a little lower on her back, firm and scalding hot.

She peered up at his jawline. Looked away. Felt Billy’s eyes wander back after before he flickered elsewhere. Denim pushed against denim. Billy hitched this breath as if he might whimper. Swallowed it down. Hips swaying back and forth and back again. A thumb pushed deftly into her back. Evie shifting in, lips parting. Trembling as Billy turned his head to see her centimeters from him.

“This is our stop.” She’d said in his ear. Leaning flush into him to pull the cord down. Billy inhaled the amber. Brushed his nose into her own while she came back out.

“Don’t wanna stop.” His freckles looked especially glowy outlined in a rare blush. The bus skidded and Evie veered back with some amusement. Brown eyes casting Billy up and down before she skipped off in a hurry, leaving him to chase her because he’d always chase her. Bag still wrinkled around Billy’s fist, he caught up with her. Under the streetlamps surrounded by dancing moths.

“We near Lover’s Lake?”

“Yeah, the park nearby. Figured some loitering would do us good.” Evie stepped across the grass and sand. Listened to the dark structures creak. “C’mon. I love the swings.”

She plopped back into one, legs kicking some before Billy joined her. He cracked one can of soda to offer it, feet shifting over the sand to sway closer together. Chains creaking.

They clicked drinks and guzzled fizz before Evie snagged the candy out. Stealing a few chewy pieces. The bright box got passed back and forth during a comfortable silence. Billy watched Evie as she observed the moon there.

“Do you know any constellations?” She’d asked quieter, forcing him out of the daze. Curls caught the illumination with stars dotting her dark eyes.

“Not really.” He took the candy back as she swallowed a piece.

“You see that crooked line? Those four little guys, they call that...Salem’s Lot. And...” Evie touched her lips, pointing again. “Those two bright boys there. Called Shawshank. Oh, and that one-”

“These are Stephen King references.” He pushed her.

“No, I’m very smart and they’re real-life constellations. Listen and learn, Billy boy.”

“So, are you gonna call that grouping, The Shining or The Overlook?” He pointed to a cluster and Evie snickered.

“Obviously that’s Carrietta White’s Constellation. Duh. Cause it looks like a rain of blood.” Evie snorted and Billy joined her, heads pressing together as they giggled like school children.

“You know she wears a crushed red velvet dress in the book? Not pink as seen in the movie.” Billy stretched out, finishing his soda.

“You know she’s fat in the book, too?” Evie winked at him, eyed the trash, and tried to toss her can at it. Missing badly, it smacked the rim and fell in the sand with a clatter. “Damn it!” Billy laughed at her louder.

“Don’t try for a career on the court, Evie.” He watched her pout as she plucked it up to throw it away properly. “Now, watch the master work.” He aimed as she sat down. One deft hand reeled back and launched it only to have Evie’s palm smack it easily the other direction. Almost falling out of her seat cackling, she got the candy pushed into her arm before he gawked and went to get it.

“Oh,” she kept up without air, “I thought you were the master? You should have seen your face!”

“Yeah, yeah.” He grumbled, dunking it in the can with an echoing clank. For some cheery consolation, she offered the rest of the box to him. Tiny candy pieces fell into his palm before he pushed them all into his mouth at once, eyes lifting to the sky again. Billy made a face and turned to go to push her swing. “Gimme another constellation.”

“Hmm.” Evie held the chains, began to swing properly at his coaxing. Felt like they were in a secret garden together. Water rippling against the air distantly. Cold chill not bothering either of them. “Those two stars. The little one and the big guy. See?”

Billy gripped the chains, keeping her swing up against him to follow the gaze

“That’s Neverland. Second star to the right and straight on till morning.” She snickered again as Billy pushed her forward. “Bet I can beat you there. I’ll jump from the swing.”

“You’re on.” Billy stole the seat next to her, both of them pumping higher. Curls fluttering. Laughing. Happy because they were together and that mattered.

“I’m going to overthrow Pan and Hook. Become the most fantastic Lost Girl with a siren song to command the island and you’ll write your stories.”

“Think so?” Billy pushed himself higher. Actually thought he might fly with Evie there.

“Yes! You’ll tell the greatest stories ever heard through the land and they’ll echo back down here to be loved too.” She proclaimed that. Not having heard Billy’s stories, but believing what was in his heart.

Time slowed. Wild laughter crackled toward the sky. Utter sparks as they jumped together and collided to roll around the sand. Evie was still alight with joy under him, hair splayed everywhere as Billy snapped up to check her over, hovering. Evie’s giggling tapered off against the night air. She stared up at him. Framed in twinkling stars. He said something she didn’t catch.

“You have beautiful eyes,” Evie sounded out slower, lost in the endless crystalline blue. “Did you mean it?”

“Mean, what?”

“What you said when we were lying in bed together. You said I was the best thing about this place. People never say things like that. Not to girls like me. I believed it when you said it though and it was easy too.” Evie skimmed her fingers over his jacket. Watched Billy’s eyes flicker to recall that moment and the clouds he floated upon like lily-pads in a pond.

Billy swept down. Planted a hot kiss that was all lips. Swelled her mouth when he pulled out. He left Evie fluttered and came to her ear.

“That was a yes.” He pushed up, eyes too sly. “By the way.” Evie took a hand when he offered one and got pulled to her feet, bodies stumbling together. They tried to brush the sand off fabric.

“Do you think about that night? The dance, I mean. Not...the sex. Well, I guess it’s okay to think about the sex actually.” She blushed there when Billy’s lip quirked. His fingers still wrapped around her wrist. “Before all that went down with Brock. It was-”

“Not terrible.” He finished.

“Not at all. The first part of the night, sometimes I wish we could go back and-”

“Rewrite it.” Billy looked around, giving Evie a tug. He pulled her up on the metal roundabout, painted red and blue that was chipping away. “Hold on.” Another smile had curled as he braced to get it spinning.

“Billy!” Evie jerked to hold tight to the bars. Hair flying up. Curls coiled out. Fire billowing gracefully. “What are you doing!”

“Turning back the clock,” he charged and jumped on with her, wobbling to hold something, "to redo it.” Evie grabbed for his coat. Fisting the fabric when they locked eyes. Wind rushed in a thrill with memories tumbling together and apart.

Her wings sprang forth.

Billy made Evie the still point to his turning world. For just a moment. Knew, if anything, that meeting her was something truly important. An unseen force that would twist his heart forever.

Spinning round and round. He recalled the metallic confetti dancing and the way the music pulsed. The carousel began to slow, both teens holding the bars and each other to say level.

Slower, Evie pecked a kiss upon his lips to mirror the first. Unable to come out far, Billy was already closing the distance for the second. Trying to pay her back with a thousand sweet kisses.

Cheers rang and fireworks burst. She remembered it all too. How dizzy and still the world seemed to be. How it hushed for her too sweetly. Billy’s hands on her face, cradling delicately to angle the second kiss a little deeper. They felt the metal clink to stillness under them and inched back out.

“I want to go home with you,” Evie said the words she wished she had that night. Huge dark eyes glittering. She found his lips again. Not worried about air or what the future held for them. Lost on a rosy haze and perfectly fine for these stolen fleeting seconds. “Can we go?” Billy searched her, thumb sweeping a circle into her jaw. He smiled fully.

“Only if we can take the bus again.”

** ** ** **

“Happy Birthday!” Evie gushed, offering a gift to a small pile. Max had her arms around her before she’d gotten a chance to turn. One hand shifted to the shorter girl’s back. Music whirled with a campy light show, made the horribly patterned carpets glow. “Carol and Heather are on their way in. Tommy’s around but he won’t hang near the table.”

“Neil’s going to be late. Work stuff.” This explained why Max’s smile was so bright. Evie nudged her chin, head cocking. “You brought your own skates.”

“I know it’s dorky, but they’re my babies.” Evie gestured to the red skates swung over one shoulder. “Evie Fenny doesn’t rent her skates.”

“That’s El, come meet her,” Max pulled Evie off after she got one wave at Susan behind the table setting up. “Billy’s grabbing stuff from the car. He drove us.”

El Hopper was a tiny thing. Almost like a little bird compared to Hopper’s hulking frame behind her. She peered around and seemed at instant ease upon seeing Max.

“El, this is my neighbor, Evie," Max introduced them, "she’s cool.”

El made this gesture like she had a needle and poked at her hand.

“Yes!” Max got it, tugging Evie’s arm. “She taught me the felting thing.”

“Hope the sharp objects weren’t a bother in your house, Chief Hopper.” Evie perked up at Jim with a sheepish expression. “I should have asked you, I know it might seem a little dangerous.”

He actually laughed at that. If only she knew the danger these kids had gotten into prior.

“Believe me, crafts are a welcomed change.”

“El, nice to meet you. I’m Evie. Max talks about you all the time.” Evie held out her hand and the young girl looked shocked. “Good things.”

A slower smile crossed. She took Evie’s hand to shake it. Awkward about her navigation but trying to take everything in. Clearly never been to a party like this one. Kids of various ages circled the floor on skates. Laughing. Holding hands.

“Max...talks about you too. I like your hair.” El mirrored. Peered to Hopper with a pleased expression he matched. She offered Max a wrapped gift. Evie grinned and touched her curls, pulled up into two high, rounded buns.

“C’mon, let me show you the table they’re setting up.” Max took El’s wrist to usher her off.

“Are you...staying to skate?” Evie turned to the Chief.

“El’s, ah, not used to crowds. She came from some unfortunate circumstances. I’d like to stay close. First party. Maybe I’m hovering.” He pushed his hands into his pockets. Not in uniform. Evie beamed a little.

“She’s young, you’re worried. It’s sweet, actually. You’re just being a good dad.” The smile seemed to dither in her eyes. Even when Jack was married to Mona, he wasn't always around. Work and trips kept him busy, but he stayed to close to Evie the moment he arrived home with his little gifts and endless stories. “Don’t come running over if she falls, we got her.”

“Yeah, uh, if you could keep an eye on El when you see her around. That would mean a lot to me. I know you babysat the Henderson kid. El doesn’t need a babysitter, she’s just… This is new for her.” Jim gestured. Digging for a smoke he couldn’t have in the immediate area.

“Heather, Carol, and I will keep an eye out.”

“Carol?” He chuckled. “Perkins?”

“Oh, yeah, we made up. Funny thing.”

“Almost as funny as you hanging out with the Hargrove boy through winter.” He quirked his brow.

“What can I say, Chief...” Evie shrugged. “I’m...branching out.”

As if on cue, Billy paced in a side door. Bag clutched under one arm. He caught Evie’s glance instantly. Both of them locked in and back out on cue. Blue eyes shifted up and down because she was wearing his denim jacket over a little lacy, floral top tucked into her jeans.

Neil would arrive and they had an act to keep up. Ignoring each other.

“I’ll sit far." Jim offered. "Pretend I’m not here.”

She about cackled, lost in thought still.

“I’ll just pretend you’re my real dad,” Evie winced at herself, saw him pause with some subtle awe, “oof, I’m not sure where that came from. Ouch. Okay. Walking away now. Sorry, Chief.”

“Evie.” He eased a gentle hand toward her. “What I said. If there’s...anything going on. You can talk to me. On or off the record.”

“Yeap. Right. I’m okay. I’m...I’m gonna...skate. Yeah. Sorry. Oh, my…” Evie whirled to hurry off, cringing all the way to the table. “I think I just had a mental break.”

“What?” Heather had chuckled.

“Nothing. Time to skate?” Came Evie’s begging. Agreement followed.

Hopper made himself scarce with a cigarette and plate of cheese fries in the corner. Billy plopped himself into a chair behind the decorated table, looking disinterested. Not catching Evie’s eyes while she sat with the girls to put her skates on. Just watched Susan set out plates for pizza and cake.

Evie went out with Heather first for a lap, both of them giggling and pulling little stunts to show off for Tommy who was on the ground as Carol pulled at him. Max jumped over his leg, cackling before she tried to get El to come out with them.

“Kinda reminds me of us. They’re too cute.” Heather quipped, whirling to skate backward. They joined the younger girls, hoping to get El relaxed and away from the wall she seemed to cling to. Every turn, Evie shot Billy a look. Got his lips quirking before he ruefully was peering away.

“Do you want to skate, Billy?” Susan had asked after a beat, weary of the music already. Bit of a glittery disco mess. That same dreamy rose haze in the air.

“About as much as I want to give my old man a sponge bath, Susan.” Billy frowned for effect and dropped it when she actually laughed at him. It was an easier thing for them to talk without Neil’s shadow.

“Well, the offer is open if you want to.” Susan thought to tell him Evie looked beautiful today when she caught him staring at her for the third time but decided not to be obvious. Not yet.

“You’re supposed to tell me I’m being inappropriate and I’m going to send your only daughter down with me.” He recited easily.

“I was your age once, Billy, I know how to laugh still.” Susan seemed surprised at the revelation herself. Slowly, she took a seat next to him. Not leaving another chair as a buffer like she usually did. “It might not be so bad. Her following you, you know, after this. When she’s older. She still looks up to you.”

It became clear what Susan was asking him. Max would resent her one day down the line. For the choices she made. The things she couldn’t stop no matter how hard she tried. Maybe Billy and Max didn’t always get along, but he’d be a safer place for her than whatever was leftover in that house. Susan would always be under Neil Hargrove, but she could ensure her daughter would not be. One day.

Billy leaned forward on his elbows, palms rubbing. He felt for his ring and remembered it was hidden under Evie’s dipping sweetheart neckline. He didn’t say anything, but met Susan’s eyes.

“Evie’s been a good friend to her.” Susan crossed her legs and sat back to watch the girls laugh. Slowly easing into the conversation. El wobbled, holding hands with Max and Evie to gain some speed. Heather was trying to help Carol steady poor Tommy. “Don’t you think so?”

“I haven’t noticed.” Billy turned his head aside.

“She’s very pretty. Kind. That’s all I’m saying. She and her mother, they’re nice neighbors to have on Cherry.”

“Jesus, Susan, why don’t you date them both?” Billy shot up to go to the snack counter. Susan ghosted this smile after him, hands clasping. “Cheese fries. Jalapenos...Extra jalapenos.” He got his plate and turned to see Chief Hopper’s cigarette glow red. “You got any more of those? My pack is out and they don't have a machine in this joint.”

Jim just eyed him.

“I’m legal.” Billy puffed before a stick flicked across the table. “Camels. Unfiltered. Disgusting. Are you a flannel hobo of some kind with those?”

The Chief gawked at him.

“Don’t you smoke Reds? Baby’s first cigarette.”

Billy matched him. Offended.

“I’m smoking with the big boys, Hop. You should try it.”

“You in a place to complain, kid?” Jim reached to take it back before Billy swiped, lighting up to puff.

“No, sir.” His lighter snapped shut. “You unable to cut the cord or is dressing like a lumberjack to hang out at a 70s roller disco a hobby?”

“Haven’t seen you down at the station in a while. Few months, in fact. Turning over a new leaf this year?” Jim remarked instead, leaning forward on his elbows.

“Aw. You miss me or something? Your boys finally get tired of chasing me down? Or trying to.” Billy gave this comedic pout, head turning to eye Evie again. Graceful swan that she was out there. His jacket hanging off her shoulders, exposing that neck. Little wisps of curls swayed about from her space buns decorated with matching glittery star barrettes, loose hair framing her face. Brown eyes flicked up and he snatched his gaze away. “Guess I found something else to get into that isn’t trouble. You guys bore me down there, I like to be amused.”

“The real crime-stopper, boredom. Color me impressed and shocked.” Jim seemed to like that, eyes rolling. Billy puffed and swept a piece of tobacco from his mouth. “I guess whatever you’re doing, keep it up.” He watched Billy crunch on some salty jalapenos, plucking five gooey fries at once to swallow them down. Almost starved.

“I intend to.” Billy flicked his greasy fingers to his brow. “Chief.”

“William.”

Billy mumbled as he went off, finishing the smoke to flick it out a back door. Eyes shifting to watch the girls plus poor Tommy. El was already better than him.

“Man, I’m dying out here. Help me. I’ll tag you in.” Tommy scrambled up the sidewall and clung, out of breath. Freckles all dewy.

“You wanted to be a good boyfriend,” Billy cackled for good measure, "that'll teach you."

“Feed me a fry,” Tommy begged over the barrier.

“Fuck out of here, they’re mine. My dad will show soon so you can disappear to a corner and get your own damn fries.” To make it a point, Billy stood there and fed himself.

Behind Tommy, Max skidded and fell with Evie barely catching her. Both girls had gone down in a fit of giggling.

“We’re fine, go on!” Max waved to Heather and El ahead of them. Carol came to steal Tommy back as Billy craned to see his step-sister.

“You alright?” Evie was picking her up when Max’s shirt slipped closer to her pale shoulder, flashing a burst of purple there the size of a softball. “Oh, my god.” It slipped out before she could stop it.

“That’s-!” Max cut herself off and fixed her shirt. Spring was creeping and all she donned was long-sleeved and frumpy. Dressing almost like Susan. “I fell, you know, on my board.” Evie tried to give her the dignity of a look that said she believed it. Must have cracked. “Evie, it’s nothing. Don’t worry. Please.”

Dressing like Susan. Sounding like Billy.

“Max, my house is-”

“I know, but don’t… Don’t say anything. Not to Billy or my mom, ah… Neil’s here.” Max put her head down and skated around Evie to go away.

There was something particularly helpless about watching a young girl flee obediently to her monster. Evie wondered if this was what she looked like to Billy headed to Fredrick's place.

Small. Scared. Lost.

Neil Hargrove started with words. Lots of horrible words that whittled Max down to a hard pit. Then pushing. Then some grabbing. Then shoving. Into walls mostly.

The hit didn’t bruise Max. It was more of a swipe to make her go to her room for talking back. Whatever that meant to Neil. But, he was drunk and he caught her jaw with an open palm. That stayed red for the day until she snuck a pack of frozen peas, not wanting Susan or Billy to know.

But, the swipe sent her into the dining room table. Left the violet petals bursting under her skin. Evie lost the urge to skate and came out. Saw Billy’s eyes again and paused to help Heather usher El out for food.

“You’re a natural.” Evie complimented which earned a full smile. El opened her mouth to speak before Billy appeared in front of them.

“They’re making us sing.” He cocked his head, peering at El. “You’re the one with the funny name, aren’t you?”

“Jane. But,” she seemed to have trouble staring at him for more than three extended seconds and pointed to her chest, “El.” Red crept across her cheeks. Billy towered over her, cocking a wider grin to play up the fact that she was all blushy for a pretty older boy.

“El?” He raised one brow. “What’s the L stand for?”

“Ignore him.” Heather pulled the younger girl around Billy as he chuckled, pausing to see Evie. Her colorless expression.

“You okay?” He said it hard with a furrowed brow.

“Fine.” She tried to make it sound cold but it came out near silent. Head turned down as she flitted around him to join the party.

Neil, stiff and stoic, pressing his lips like he was at the damn DMV. Susan plastered a broader grin to dote on him after his long day, lingering close to his side as they set out pizza and readied the cake.

It was all so routine. Like getting your shots.

Pizza. Sing. Candles. Wish. Cake. Gifts. Thank you.

Billy and Evie took the farthest seats from each other. Played a game of glance and ignore that they’d made up on the spot. They both were either losing or winning.

“Strange,” Neil remarked as he pulled Max aside for another slice. “You and the high school girls.”

“Oh, I invited El too, she’s my age. I didn’t want to leave Evie out and the girls...they’re nice to me.”

“They don’t dress like nice girls.”

Heather and Carol both donned perfectly normal tees and jeans. Nothing would suffice for Neil Hargrove. Max shifted her cake around. No longer hungry for it.

“Maybe we’ll talk about the type of girl you should hang around at a later time. The Fenny girl is nice enough, even if her shirt is a little too...low. Dresses kinda tight. Bit of an odd one. She’s different. Her friends, well...I’m just not sure, Maxine.”

“Yes, sir.” She looked at her birthday cake like it was infested with worms. Carefully forced a bite and set it aside.

Max hung around. Smiled and thanked everyone after each birthday present. Even hugged Neil only cause he opened his arms at her. She said bye to El then Heather. Carol seemed to be turning in as well so Tommy went out back to get the car.

As the party went on and dwindled, Evie caught Billy’s eyes gesturing to the rental counter. He slipped around the corner into the many shelves and Evie turned back to see Max and Susan at the table. Neil seated in a chair not helping them clean up, eyes elsewhere. Casually, she skated around and got her arm snatched. A gasp snuffed against a pair of lips. Kisses hidden away from the world.

“Paid the kid a few coins and a threat to leave for ten minutes."

Music vibrated the shelves. Evie put her arms around Billy.

“I still have skates on.”

“Even better. I might have a thing for girls in red skates.” Billy was all hands, holding Evie steady. Pulling one leg around his hip. Pushing denim into denim. Hot friction might have done her in any other day.

“We are not hooking up with all the smelly rental skates.” Evie laughed into his lips, still pecking back and peering over her shoulder. She paused to see his eyes. Wanted to blurt what she’d seen on Max’s body. Even to Billy now, it felt wrong. So, she said something else.

“Hey, we should…keep an eye on your sister, you know. It’s her birthday. She’s...She needs her big brother.”

Billy huffed into her neck.

“Fine, fine, but you’ll regret not taking the adventure on here.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Evie shifted. “My feet hurt and we can make-out in my bed later.” She kissed his neck. “I’ll do that thing you like if you promise you went easy on the product down there.”

“Only dotted the gold crown. Scout’s honor.” Billy winked and she rolled her eyes. He peered out first. “Give it a second then follow.”

“Wait.” Evie thumbed her red lipstick from his mouth. “Now, shoo.” Billy licked his lips and snuck out. She waited a moment. Let the happy butterflies land in her stomach then followed. Pausing, her skates came off for more comfortable tennis shoes.

“Evangeline, do you need a ride home with us later?” Neil had asked.

“No, thank you, I was getting a ride with Carol now.” She smiled and looked for red hair to say her goodbyes. “Where’d Max go?” Evie collected her coat and Susan paused to peer around.

“She was here a second ago. Neil?” Hands dropped a stack of plates into the trash.

“Probably went to the bathroom.” He shrugged, squinting at all the moving lights that were making his head pound. “Billy, go find your sister.”

Billy seemed to notice the look on Evie’s face and feel the same chill before he hurried off without fighting. Susan looked through the sea of kids and teens meandering as Evie passed her to check the ajar side door.

"Max!" The one flickering light at the exit made her skin crawl. A cry echoed distantly followed by a dull crash in the dark. Like a bag of trash hitting the dumpster.

Evie dropped her skates to follow the hollowed-out sound. Exhaust swept up her nose and tires gave a harsh wail, horns sounding while a faraway car disappeared around a row of trees to get to the main street with the rest.

“Max!” Evie charged out. Heart painfully thudding within her ribs.

“Evie?” Carol heard her and footsteps echoed around the building.

“Max!” Evie was near tears now. A shift in some fallen trash bags made her pause when two sneakers appeared around the side of the dumpster. This odd scratching sound left her lips. Evie threw herself over the tiny body there, turned Max’s limp frame over.

Her shirt collar was ripped open where someone grabbed her. Or tried to. Dragging then dropping her when she put up a fight. Bleeding scrapes and dirt scuffed all over her pale freckled skin from the rough tumble. Carol got to them first and pulled off her sweater to cover Max’s torso while Evie gathered her up.

“Help!” Carol called because Evie couldn’t. More bodies arrived. Tommy. Susan. Billy. Neil.

“Neil, she won’t wake up.” Susan pulled her daughter out of Evie’s arms, shaking her. Moans filtered out, but nothing else. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. I saw...a car. It was too dark. I just found her here on the ground. Someone tried to...” Evie wheezed out and never finished, gesturing aimlessly.

“Susan, give Maxine to Billy. She needs a hospital.” Neil swept down as Billy urged his sister’s tiny body away. This hard. flamed expression on his face as if he wasn't really here.

Max looked broken. Not real. A doll left under the bed for too long without love or cherished stories to comfort it. Evie felt the knees of her jeans soak through from the wet pavement. Too many words hit the air and Evie’s eyes dropped to where that harsh car had gone to.

Evangeline wondered what kind of monster would grab up a little girl and throw her out into the trash.

And why the world bore so many of that same design.

~~~~~

Mad Max :( Her story line is gonna start to push toward the front here and there with Evie's in pieces. Thanks again for following the fic, I really appreciate it! Please please leave some words if you enjoy the fic. XOXO Taglist open

TAGLIST:: @80sbxtch @nottherightseason @alagalaska @alongcamedolly @kellyk-chan @10blurredsmoke10 @charmed-asylum @unmistakablyunknown @lukespatterson @arkhamasylumpatient-blog1

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x oc #billy hargrove fanfic #stranger things #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x plus size oc #stranger things fanfiction #angel fenny #Billy x angel #somy #writing #mine

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sneyrwrites · 4 years

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|Power Within|Kuroo x Reader.

✘ Genre: Fantasy! Au

✘ Warnings: Cursing

✘ Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader.

✘ Part: 0.5/ ?

✘ A/n: My heavily sleeped deprived brain came u with this concept and i had the urge to write it, so i hope you enjoy!

WARNING:

This story is under construction, and it will take some time for it to be ready for release. I’m posting the prologue to have some pressure to finish it and hoping to get any kind of feedback from the readers!

Kuroo knew the sound of the shuffling cards brought Kenma a sense of comfort. His friend smiled a little more and his pupils sharpened every time the stack separated into three neat piles in between them.

These monthly readings had become a sort of ritual between the both of them since Kuroo had become a Coven leader after Nekomata retired three years ago. They were reassuring to Kuroo and it gave him a way to fit spending time with his friend into his crazy schedule as the coven leader.. Meetings, reunions, diplomatic issues with the other three races and the constant need for budgets the Potion makers demanded being approved. Kuroo didn’t have time to practice his magic like he used to before.

But the full monday a month he could give to his friend was enough to help ease a little of his stress.

Kenma had a way with Tarot cards, Kuroo was glad that he was able to find his magical affinity.As a late bloomer it took Kenma a long time to feel comfortable around the coven, no matter how much Kuroo tried to break into his shell. He remained the same introverted boy, until he stumbled upon divination and all its varieties when they turned 18.

Kuroo had found his tendency towards potions and specifically healing potions when he was around fourteen, and he knew Kenma was silently in pain because of that, but he did all he could to integrate him into the coven. The long wait was worth it in the end. Kenma was the best cartomancer in the Coven, with his reading being able to predict things precisely, and his ability to interpret the magical energy from the cards allowed him to perceive specific details and images.

The orange curtains partially blocked the sunlight coming in through the windows, tinting everything in sunset colours even though it was the early morning. They were the only two members of the Coven wandering around in the main building during those cold autumn days. The smell of myrrh and a hint of vanilla in the air not coming from the incense, but from Kenma’s magic, gave the room a placid atmosphere.

Kuroo smiled as the cards re-stacked themselves and then started to spread in the characteristic way they always did, prompted only by Kenma’s will, not even needing him to cast a spell.

Three cards laid out in front of them facing down, and everything felt normal. Kenma flipped the first two revealing the emperor and the cart, both signifying a successful month ahead of them. Kuroo knew a little of tarot himself, just enough to get a general sense, but the practice never called him, potion making snatching his full attention.

Kenma’s hand reached for the third card but stopped right above it, not even touching it. A furrow settled in his brows and his pupils sharpened, to the point where they were barely noticeable. The air in the room went stagnant, and the magical energy tingled Kuroo’s skin. Something changed.

“What the f…?” The quiet murmur of confusion coming from Kenma only fueled his unease. “That’s weird… Who…?” His frown deepened.

“What is it?” The urgency in his voice was almost tangible and by the pointed look Kenma sent his way, totally unhelpful. “The reading was going well right?”

“Yeah.” Kenma hesitated, a small flash of fear behind his eyes. His still stretched out hand trembled. “But som…” He couldn’t finish

The stack that was calmly next to him flew up in the air, followed by the other three remaining cards. A spicy smell overpowered Kenma’s, alerting us that another magical presence had entered the room, manipulating the deck in a way that was unheard of.

Kuroo could only watch as the cards wildy flew around the room re-arranging and mixing. Kenma looked shocked, as his eyes tried to follow every single change. The thought that Kenma wasn’t the one manipulating them made a cold and heavy feeling, like an iceberg drop in his stomach.

Was it a Hex? Was someone trying to break the spell protecting the coven’s building? No, if that was the case the alarms would go off. Either way he was going to call Wakatoshi and ask him to check and reinforce it

After what felt like a lifetime the cards finally stacked themselves up in the middle of the table, settling the room in a tense and heavy silence both of them were afraid to break. His heart was beating erratically and a cold sweat beaded on his forehead. What was even going on? He took a look at the clock on the wall, it read 5:40 am. Not even ten minutes had passed since they started.

Kenma reached for the stack but, as soon as he hovered his hand above them, he pulled it away, as if the Tarot Cards had burned his skin. Kuroo watched in disbelief as his friend rubbed the palm of his hand, a hurt expression morphing his face. Now he was really worried. The cards never had done that to him before, normally it was the opposite, the cards welcomed Kenma and almost buzzed when he manipulated them.

“They want you to flip them…” Disbelief tinted his words, and he looked so frail and dejected it almost pained Kuroo. “I can’t touch them.”

“Is it okay if i…?” Kuroo was apprehensive about touching Kenma’s deck. It was his most prized possession, and he cared for them with his life. Touching them made Kuroo feel all kinds of dirty and unworthy.

“Go ahead… Something bad is going on.” The resolve in Kenma’s voice appeared out of nowhere.

The cards didn’t lash out at him when his fingers brushed the smooth surface of the card on top. He flipped the first and suppressed a gasp.

The burning tower and the man falling to the ground made Kuroo sweat even more. The falling tower was never a good sign in a future reading.

Kenma sharply inhaled as he observed the deck. Kuroo willed his hand to stop shaking and he flipped the second card over. The devil card delivered even more bad news. He knew the basic meaning, but by the way Kenma hissed and brought his hand to his forehead it meant something more.

“Are you okay? Too overwhelming?” Kuroo got up, and was about to make his way to Kenma's side but he stopped him with a sign of his hand, recomposing quickly after a moment.

“I'm fine, the energy got a little hectic back there and bombarded me with blurry images... Flip the third one.” Kuroo flopped down at the command of his friend, watching him intently.

He had never seen Kenma as unnerved as he was in that moment. His lip was tightly imprisoned between his teeth and Kuroo worried he might draw blood if he kept pressing it so tightly. But there was nothing to do besides go with it. A fist was clamping his hear, filling himt with fear for whatever the next card would predict. Anticipation was thick in the air and after a sharp intake of air, he willed his hand to grab the third and final card of the reading.

The blasting ringtone from his phone made him jolt in his seat, the somber mood completely broken by the upbeat tone of “Everybody wants to be a cat” from The Aristocats. His heart had risen to his throat, and he felt the rapid pulse in his neck, slightly deafening him, overpowering the ringtone. He exchanged a doubtful glance with Kenma, afraid whatever the cards predicted had started already.

Tendou’s face popped in the screen, and he worried even more. The Seer was his friend, but such an early call was out of character from him.

“It's the Seer... I wonder what he wants. He usually sleeps until 2pm....” His eyes searched Kenma’s once more and with the nod from his friend he unlocked his phone and took the call.

“Hello Hello, Kuroo-san…” Tendou’s cheery voice erupted from the speaker and he cringed at the tone. “ I see Kenma and you are in the middle of a reading. Get it? See... I'm the Seer, never mind...” He cleared his throat and his mischievous tone disappeared in the next sentence. “ Cleanse the room after you finish, Gaia visited me and that’s never a good sign.” That little sentence felt as if an anvil had fallen on him. The knot in his throat grew.

Now of all times, when he was in charge of 700+ people, Gaia decided to present herself to Tendo and warn him.? Shit was about to hit the fan.

“Flip the next card Kuroo.” He followed the instructions and the Sun card appeared. “Huh... Maybe Gaia was wrong...” The confused tone came from the phone… “

“Should you be disrespecting the goddess like that Tendou-san?” Kenma’s eyes were lost, almost as if he was observing something that wasn’t there as he spoke

“Oh, Kenma-kun, you worry too much.” He stopped for a second “But still, both of you, be careful, and please, try not to lash out too much on her Kuroo… Or else things could get really ugly really fast.” He warned.

“What do you mean Tendou?” Kuroo asked, worry once more tainting his voice “Who?”

“Gaia, I’m sleepy. Gotta go guys, let’s play later Kenma! I’ll be jungler this time, bye bye!” The dialing tone silenced any further questions they could have.

Kuroo stared at his screen in shock.

“It's too early for this shit.” Kenma's sigh grabbed his attention. “ I need a coffee... Let's go to Starpups...” He proposed with a disinterested tone.

“Are you really thinking about coffee in a moment like this? Are you kidding Kenma?” Kuroo felt like throwing up from the emotional rollercoaster he just went through, and his friend wanted to get a coffee?

“What else can we do really? The only thing I got from that reading was the smell of spicy ramen and a flash of red. I can’t really think of anything right now.” Kenma's eyes held some doubt behind them, but Kuroo let it go. “Grab your talisman and let's go.”

“Why my talisman?” he never used it when going out for coffee

“Just do it, trust my gut...” Kenma sent him a pleading look, his eyes letting him know there was a solid reason behind his concern.

Kenma turned around and practically bolted out of the room. Sighing, Kuroo gave the cards on the table a dirty look and lit the incense on fire, hoping to cleanse some of the residual energy in the room, before leaving as well.

He felt as if some of that spicy magical energy lingered on his skin, even after he closed the door behind him

CHAPTER 1 SNEEK PEAK

“Listen you f…” His startled gasp cut your colorful string of curses. Following his eyes you noticed the thick black cloud of smoke. That was coming from your sleeve, which was on flames. “What the fuck dude! Put it out!” You desperately tried to put the flames off, but they wouldn’t budge.

A startled cry left your lips when the flames grew and almost lashed out to the man, as if they had a mind of their own. He barely dodged the hit, the tip of his tie getting a little singed.

“It wasn’t me I swear! I’m not an elementari I’m just a cartomancer!” He looked almost as freaked out as you after that. “ Why did you start a fire!? Is there a counter hexer in here!?”

“Yeah, like it’s my favorite activity to set myself on fire!” You whined, waving your arm around as the flames crept up.

“She seems fine...” a soft and monotone voice stated, and a guy poke his head from behind the tall man. His blond dyed hair showing quite a large amount of dark roots and styled in a half bun. His eyes were also sharp and attentive sporting the same style of pupils and irises. They seemed to pierce your very soul

The tall and worried man in front of you scanned your face, and you took a second to study his features. His jaw was sharp and his nose straight, with high cheekbones and cute lips.

He was hot, and his messy hair with black locks spiking up in odd places and partially falling over his forehead was way too wild to be just a consequence of the merciless wind that picked up that autumn morning. And it did wonders to make him look even more appealing.

#Kuroo x reader #haikyuucreations #Kuroo Tetsurou #kuroo tetsuro x reader #Kuroo Tetsurō #haikyuu kuroo #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fanfic #kuroo fanfic #Power within Kuroo #tetsurou kuroo #Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo fantasy au

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notalwayslate · 4 years

Text

Building Dreams

For @eirian-houpe

It is I your Secret Santa. It appears that tumblr was not a fan of my anon messages,but I”m so happy to be able to reveal myself! No more anon! :)

Prompt: There’s nothing I can do

Summary: When the town’s mayor sets her sights on destroying Belle French’s plans of reopening the library, the ever fearsome Mr. Gold makes a deal with an unlikely source to ensure the library becomes a reality for his secret crush.

Building Dreams.

“There’s nothing I can do.”

Hearing those five words often filled Robert Gold with annoyance as they were usually spouted off by some pitiful tenant who had gotten themselves into an insurmountable problem and couldn’t pay their rent on time. But in this case, his stomach dropped as he overheard these words of desperation coming out of the mouth of a distraught Belle French as she sat in a booth behind him at Granny’s diner.

“There’s nothing I can do, Ruby. The mayor is insistent that the library be ready in three weeks so she can have her grand reopening ceremony, but with the limited resources she allotted me, I have to do all the repairs myself. I can’t fix every book shelf, repaint the library, and organize an entire library catalog in three weeks.”

It was merely two months ago when Ms. French had presented her pitch to reopen Storybrooke’s long abandoned library to the city council, of which he was a member. Unbeknownst to Regina, the town’s mayor, he had secretly assisted Ms. French in preparing for her presentation and had already secured the needed votes from the other council members prior to that day.

Miffed that her sole objections to the library reopening were dismissed so quickly by the committee, it was obvious to Gold that Regina stewed over the fact that he appeared to have more pull and power over the town, then her.

He had carelessly assumed that after a few days of sulking Regina would get over it, but after hearing this, it appeared that the Mayor was determined to have Ms. French’s library project fail out of spite.

“Can’t you just ask for more time?” Ruby questioned.

“I already did. The mayor said if I couldn’t execute this simple of a task, than she would have to find someone else who could. So if I can’t get it done, I’m fired.”

His blood boiled in anger. So Regina was already threatening to take this job away from her? He fought the urge to march over to the Mayor’s office, and place his hands around her throat. How dare she threaten someone as pure and loving as Ms. French. He would not let this stand, could not let this stand. That library would be ready to open in three weeks come hell or high water.

As the bell above the pawnshop door rang out, Gold barely had time to glance up before a fuming Leroy came charging towards the counter.

“If you are even thinking about raising our rent Gold, so help me….”

Gold lifted his hand, immediately silencing the short grumpy man’s tirade.

“I am not raising your rent….yet.”

Befuddled, Leroy’s posture relaxed slightly. “Well why else would you want to see me then?”

With a devilish smile, Golden explained in detail, how he would waive Leroy and his brothers’ rent for the next three months in exchange for their assistance in helping Ms. French fix up the library in time for the Mayor’s grand reopening.

“So what you’re saying is we help this broad out and we don’t have to pay rent for three months?”

Sighing at the coarse depiction of Ms. French as a broad, Gold nodded. “Yes, but with one caveat. You must not tell Ms. French of our deal.”

“So what do I say if she asks?”

“That you and your brothers simply want to volunteer to assist her at no cost.”

Leroy gave him a quizzical look.

“I don’t get it. What do you get out of all this?”

Sneering he showed his teeth. “That is none of your business.”

Although still clearly suspicious by the entire matter, Leroy readily agreed to the deal, promising Gold that he and his six brothers would start renovations the very next day.

Although rough around the edges, Gold knew that the Miner brothers were hard workers, and had little doubt that they would indeed have the library remodeled in time. If not, he would make as many deals as necessary to ensure that Ms. French’s dreams of running this library came to fruition.

Two weeks later, Gold sauntered into Granny’s taking his usual seat at the counter. He went to take his first sip of coffee, when a purse smashed down on the counter next to him.

“What the hell are you up to Gold?”

Not being deterred by the outburst, he took a long sip of coffee, gently placing the cup back down, before turning his attention towards the agitated face of the town’s mayor.

“Ah, Madam Mayor, to what do I owe the displeasure of your company this morning?”

“I know about your little deal with those seven imbeciles.”

Gritting his teeth, he tried to maintain a steady composure, although inwardly he was seething. He would deal with that blabbermouth little rat Leroy later; right now he had to remind Regina that he was not one she wanted to tangle with.

“Why whatever do you mean?”

Rolling her eyes she leaned in. “Cut the crap Gold. Now what I want to know is why you’re getting involved in this? Why are you helping her?”

Narrowing his eyes his cold stare bore into hers. “When the committee approved this plan months ago we did so with the intent of it being a success. Ms. French is a viable asset to this town, and is more than capable of handling this project, when given an equal playing field against your obvious sabotage. So I suggest you leave Ms. French and this library alone or I will really give you something to fret about."

An arrogant smirk hit Regina’s red painted lips. “You like her.”

Scoffing Gold turned back towards the counter, as Regina’s hot breath tickled at his ears.

“I had my suspicions at that meeting. Oh, what a grand idea Ms. French, I would love to hear more of your thoughts Ms. French.” She mimicked in a mocking tone. “ How pathetic. She’s half your age, Gold. Do you really think giving her this library is going to get her to sleep with you?”

Not wanting to give her the pleasure of getting a reaction from him, he sat there silently sipping on his coffee as Regina continued to hurl insult after insult into his ear. He didn’t worry about the other patrons hearing her tirade as Regina kept her voice low, clearly trying to protect her public image of a caring respectful servant of the people. After a few more agonizing jabs about his age, he heard her let out a sarcastic chuckle.

“You know what you can have your little library Gold. It will be satisfying enough to watch when all of your perverted little delusions about you and that librarian come crashing down around you.” With that last insult, she picked her purse up off the counter, moving towards the door. “See you at the opening next week Mr. Gold,” she spouted exiting the diner.

Try as he might, Gold could not shake Regina’s taunting words, as he sat at his workshop later that day tinkering with the broken gears of an antique watch. Although he tried to convince himself that he only stepped in to help Ms. French because he wanted this project to succeed his heart knew the truth… he was in love with Belle French.

His feelings for her blossomed years ago when she had started working full time at her father’s flower shop, after graduating from high school. He had always had problems with her father Maurice, a drunk, who often wasted the shop’s money on booze and gambling rather than paying his rent on time.

He was impressed when Maurice’s daughter suggested that he collect the rent every week, instead of monthly, with the reasoning that she could pay him before her father dipped his hands into the register. And so it was with this new arrangement that he visited the flower shop every week with the intent to collect rent, but as he did so he found himself falling into longer conversations with Ms. French. After a few months, he found himself actually looking forward to their interactions, and soon their visits were the highlights of his week.

He was impressed with not only her beauty but her intellect and soon found himself falling for her. Although he wanted her desperately, he kept his feelings hidden, knowing that she was far too good to be with a broken down old man like himself. Every week he went, and every week he fell more in love with her.

During one of their many conversations she had confided in him that her dream was to one day become a librarian. Once he learned of her aspirations, he quietly started to look into the old abandoned town’s library and soon discovered that it was a viable option to reopen.

With the information in hand, he had encouraged her to follow her dreams. He was all too delighted when she agreed, and was impressed at how quickly she threw herself into researching all aspects of the project. Of course he gave her his valuable assistance by using his pull to bypass the usual red tape of government, and provided her with the needed permits and budgets that she required for her proposal.

And now here she was just days away from becoming a librarian with a newly renovated library. His heart burst with love and pride at the thought.

The ringing bell pulled him from his thoughts alerting him that someone had entered his shop. He groaned, praying that it wasn’t Regina coming back for another round of insults. Pushing the curtain back, he stopped dead in his tracks, as Ms. French stood before him.

She looked shorter than usual, a feat contributed to the fact that she was wearing tennis shoes instead of her high heels. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and he could see splotches of paint on her tightly fitted blue jeans that showed off her shapely curve. Even after an obvious day of hard work and remodeling, she had never looked more beautiful.

“Hello Mr. Gold.” She beamed at him, and for a moment he forgot how to speak.

“Hello Ms. French.”

She frowned. “Belle. Please call me Belle.”

She had corrected him for years, and yet he could never find the nerve to address her so informally.

“What can I do for you Ms…Belle,” he corrected himself bringing a small smile to her lips.

“Well as you can probably tell,” she glanced down at herself, “I’ve been spending most of my time finishing up the library.”

“And how is that going by the way?” he feigned ignorance even though Leroy texted him daily on its progress. He was already well aware that the library was nearly complete, and would be ready for the ceremony next week.

“Great. I could never have pulled it all together without the help of the Miner brothers. I can never repay them for their kindness. I just can’t believe any of this is real, and I’m really going to be a librarian.”

Seeing the look of excitement in her eyes, Gold’s heart skipped a beat. She deserved this library and every bit of happiness that went along with it.

“You earned it, Belle.”

Her radiant smile took his breath away.

“We earned it, Mr. Gold. Don’t think I have forgotten that I could never have done this without you. I can’t wait for you to see it.”

For a moment her smile faltered, and he could have sworn he saw a look of apprehension in her eyes. “Speaking of which, I’m having a sort of a sneak peak of the library this Sunday, something much smaller and intimate then the Mayor’s grand reopening ceremony, and I was really hoping that you would attend?”

He was stunned for a moment that she would invite him to her own personal soiree. He knew his fearsome reputation around town, and just assumed that she wouldn’t want his presence darkening her moment.

“Are you sure you want me there?”

She looked like he had punched her in the gut, and he immediately cursed himself for causing her distress.

“Of course I want you there.” She spoke sullenly.

“Then I would be honored to attend.”

He let out a sigh of relief as a smile returned to her face. Clasping her hands together in excitement, she gave him further details and gleefully stated she would see him at 7 on Sunday, before bouncing out of his shop.

Sunday came all too soon, as Gold stood in his closet for the last hour fussing over which shirt and tie he would wear, before deciding upon his dark blue shirt with red tie. Why was he so nervous? He could be social, and casually mingle with Belle’s friends, without making a total fool out of himself, right?

His mind raced at who else he thought would be there. Of course she would invite Ruby, and Leroy and his brothers. He couldn’t help but wonder if her father would be there. If he had the nerve to show up drunk to Belle’s function, Gold wasn’t sure what he would do to the man. He wanted everything to be perfect for her that night, and for a moment he considered if he should just stay home and not ruin the atmosphere, before remembering that he had given her his word that he would be there.

With a nervous swell in his stomach, he made the short drive to the town square. He pulled into his regular parking spot in front of the pawnshop, looking across the street at the clock tower above the library. It was 6:45.

It was still early and he debated if he should wait in his Cadillac until it was closer to seven. Seeing no other cars or people nearby he fretted that she might need some last minute help to set up. Taking a deep breath he exited the car, making his way to the entrance of the library.

Just as his hand reached for the handle, the door swung open towards him, as Leroy marched out followed closely in line by his six brothers. Glancing his way, Leroy froze in place causing a line of collisions.

“He’s here,” Leroy called out over his shoulder, as the message made its way down the brothers, ending with the smallest, Clark who shouted the statement into the library.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Gold shook his head in disbelief. “Was that announcement really necessary? I can assure you people know when I enter a room.”

“Right,” Leroy paused before taking a step forward. “Well we have to go Mr. Gold. Have a wonderful night.”

Gold planted his hand firmly on Leroy’s chest, halting him mid step.

“Wait. You and I have some unfinished business to discuss. I had a very informative conversation with our Mayor a few days ago.”

“Oh?” Leroy questioned, as Gold felt his entire body trembling under his fingertips.

“Oh yes. Imagine my surprise when she told me how a pitiful little piss ant told her that I was the one…” His threat ceased as Belle’s smiling face emerged from the doorway. Quickly wiping the sneer from his face, he took his hand off of Leroy’s chest.

“Mr. Gold, I’m so glad you came,” she beamed, as he straightened his stance.

“Are you still sure you want to do this sister?” Leroy asked over his shoulder, never taking his eyes off of Gold.

“You guys have a wonderful night,” Belle pronounced, as Gold stepped to the side allowing the seven brothers to walk past him unscathed.

With the seven irritations out of sight, Gold was finally able to relish how breathtakingly beautiful Belle looked standing before him. She wore a laced blue dress with a red belt and red heels. He inwardly praised his own choice of shirt and tie, as their complimentary outfits made them look like a perfectly matched pair.

“Won’t you please come in,” Belle held the door open allowing him to enter the foyer. Once in, he moved to the side, awaiting her to guide him into the library. He was surprised that the Miner brothers had left, as he had surely thought Belle would have invited them to this small gathering, but he didn’t want to be rude and question her choices.

Looking around Gold was in awe at how perfectly put together the library turned out. He listened intently as she pointed out all of the changes and repairs that were made about the room.

As they moved further into the library, his stomach growled as the enticing smell of food hit his nostrils. As they rounded the corner, he froze in place at the sight.

Before him was a small table, delicately set with just two place settings. Perplexed he looked at Belle, as she took a deep breath.

“Would you please have dinner with me, Mr. Gold?”

All manner of speech left him, as he stood gaping at her. He didn’t understand. Other people were coming weren’t they? There was no possible way that a woman like Belle French would possibly want to have a romantic dinner with him.

As he continued to stare at her in disbelief, she bit her lip, and he saw a look of worry in her eyes. Next thing he knew, she started to ramble.

“It’s just…I’ve really missed our weekly talks, and you know… I just wanted to thank you and see you. I’ve missed you… and when I found out you had the Miner brothers help me…I”

Her last statement snapped him back into a cold reality. She knew about his deal. So that is what all of this was about. She felt like she owed him something. This was the exact reason he didn’t want her to know, so she didn’t feel some type of obligation towards him. Regina was right, he was a perverted old man.

“So Leroy told you?”

Her eyes went wide, a clear indication that she had not realized what she had just confessed. “Well…yes but...”

Gold shook his head in anger. Clearly Leroy did not understand the consequences of breaking deals with him, but he would soon learn.

“Please don’t be angry with him.” He could see that she was trying to placate his anger, but he was having none of it.

“When did he tell you?”

Sighing Belle’s arms fell to her side. “The first day they were here.”

The first day? The very first day? Closing his eyes, Gold started to imagine all of the ways that he would make Leroy suffer for this. Obviously he would triple his rent, but thoughts of cutting out his tongue flashed in his mind, before Belle’s voice regained his attention.

“I know you didn’t want me to know and you are upset, but I still very much would like to have dinner with you Mr. Gold.”

“You don’t owe me a dinner or anything else, Ms. French.” He turned to leave as she shouted.

“I have been in love with you for years.”

Her words halted him.

“You have no idea how long I have wanted to tell you that. You are the only person in my life who I felt really got me. You believed in me, encouraged me to follow my dreams. I know you think I’m too young, and that I’m doing this out of some misguided loyalty, but I can promise you one thing Mr. Gold. I loved you long before this whole library proposal existed and will love you long after all of this Mr. Gold.”

Tears pooled in his eyes at her confession. Turning, he stumbled for a moment in surprise to find that she had moved before him. Slowly he lifted his hand as his knuckles tenderly graced her cheek.

“Robert.”

Her brows drew together in confusion.

“Call me Robert,” he said.

“I love you Robert,” she said looking deeply into his eyes.

“And I love you Belle.”

Slowly she moved towards him, and he moaned at the taste of her lips. Far too soon, she pulled away from the kiss, smiling at him.

“So does that mean you will stay for dinner?”

A crooked grin graced his lips. “So there’s no one else coming tonight?”

Laughing she shook her head no. “Just you and I. I hope you are not too disappointed though,” she teased.

“Well at least I’m still getting a sneak peek at the library,” he winked, placing her arm in his, as he guided them over to the set table.

“Oh, Mr. Gold, I’m quite sure you will be getting a sneak peek at a great many things tonight,” she purred.

#rumbelle christmas in july #eirian-houpe #rumbelle fic #rumbelle #rjic

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wordsnstuff · 5 years

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31 Days of Horror - Wordsnstuff October Writing Challenge

This is also available on wordsnstuffblog.com!

– The monthly challenges are back by popular demand! These are all a bit more detailed than usual so I hope you all enjoy this one. I look forward to seeing all of your guys’ responses here using the hashtag #wordsnstuffhorror and over on Instagram, where you can tag me @ writingandsuch.

This challenge begins on October 1st, but I thought I would give you guys some time to plan stuff out, because you may need to switch some days around to accommodate your schedule. You’re free to do one day’s challenge on another day if your schedule doesn’t allow enough time to complete that day’s challenge. Best of luck to you!

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☼ Prompt List ☼

Write a scene of a horror story with your 3 favorite actors as the main characters

Write a story in which the main character gets trapped within an uncommon object

Write about the creepy people who are buying your childhood home

After finally building up courage and killing your husband, you think life is going to look up. The night after you bury him in the desert, he shows up at your place of work looking alive as ever.

A biologist clones his daughter that tied in a tragic accident, but the person she matures to become is not his daughter..

A woman goes to bed with her child between her and her husband, only to wake up the next morning and find only a note on their side of the bed saying “you have 24 hours to right your wrong”

A serial killer volunteers at the local annual haunted house and is tasked with making props

All power in technology and machinery suddenly and mysteriously goes out, leaving the world in a planet-wide blackout

You are the first astronaut to find out what happens when you’re consumed by a black hole when your ship runs out of power and drifts for many years into the cold depths of space

A burglar attempts to steal from the cash register of a haunted hotel that is run by the sadistic ghosts trapped within.

A spelunker travels to a rarely-explored cluster of caves and experiences some unexplainable events before falling and passing out. When he wakes up, he returns to his hometown, but quickly notices that the people are acting.. different.

You’re a diver for a laboratory that researches sunken ships as they deteriorate over time. You’re sent on the most dangerous mission of your career in order to bring back samples from a ship that sank 300 years ago, only to reach the depths and find it completely intact.

You stay in an old Irish castle with your spouse expecting it to be mildly haunted, but the staff seems to be trying very hard to look inconspicuous.

A man finds some old 16mm film of family home video and in every single one, there’s another little boy that he nor his family has any memory of knowing.

The whole town is gathered in a park to witness the eclipse, and when it arrives, everyone is amazed. However, the novelty has long since worn off by the third day in the dark

You’ve spent your career researching the titanic’s lost passengers, identifying who the victims of the tragedy were. You purchase a storage unit full of old artifacts that someone had collected from ship-wreck sites, and find a rusty old chest full of bones. When you do a DNA test on one of them, you find out it belongs to one of the bodies that had never been recovered.

You fall asleep in front of the TV one night and wake up at 3 AM to a loud sound coming from it. You open your eyes to see someone shouting at you through the screen, begging you to help them. Static abruptly takes over the screen.

It’s 1865 and you live in a small town. A man shows up in your small community claiming that his sideshow has an incredible attraction opening that night. You’re the only one to attend, and he promises that it’ll be a sight you’ll never forget.

You are stuck in a dream experiencing fairytales in the role of the princess, but you quickly learn that you’re in the Grimms’ version.

You visit a medium as a joke with your date, and you play along as she asks you questions. However, she grows somber all of a sudden and asks to see your hand, telling you that she hears something strange. When she grasps it, she begins to choke and dies.

A woman wakes up from a coma in a seemingly friendly hospital, but when she leaves her room at night and curiously peeks into some other rooms, she finds out that every other patient in the building is already dead.

Every child in a small town is affected by a disease unlike anything ever witnessed. Except your son.

You find a small metal object on a trail when hiking one evening, and you take it home to end up finding it in a new place every time you’ve left the house.

You enter a hidden room in the home you’re about to buy. It’s empty and the white walls are covered in tiny photos of people you’ve never seen. Thousands of them. You touch one as you’re examining them and you’re transported to that moment. You witness the people in the photo die, unable to do anything to stop it.

You find a CD sitting on your desk when you come home from work one day. When you pop it into your laptop, it plays a short video that quickly cuts out and crashes your computer. The next morning, you wake up to a note where the CD had been left saying “thank you for freeing me. I’m sorry for what comes next.”

A chain email is circulating around the internet like an infectious disease. 30 days after you first hear of it on the news, warning not to open it due to the image attachment being a graphic photo of a confirmed murder victim, mass murders begin to take place all over the world.

A new restaurant opens in your hometown and the owners are a sweet old couple who’ve dreamt of opening their own diner since they were young. People in the town start disappearing, and you, the town detective, notice that they were all last seen exiting that restaurant.

You wake up in a hospital and the first thing you see is a doctor holding a needle and squeezing your ankle. You try to move your hand but your muscles won’t budge. The doctor says “I’m very sorry for the pain you’re about to endure, but you must be awake for us to monitor your physical reactions to this procedure.” You have no idea what he’s talking about.

You enter your home one evening after work to see that your walls are covered In photos of you that you don’t remember being taken.

Your children are dressed up as various horror characters for halloween and when they leave for trick-or-treating, you breathe a sigh of relief that you have an evening of alone-time. However, as soon as they’re out of sight from your view through the window, you hear a knock on the door. The real characters from the horror movies they’ve dressed up as are standing on your porch, and they refuse to leave.

When your mother dies, you are left in charge of your childhood home along with all of her belongings. Going through the last few boxes in the attic, you come across a brick in the wall that’s knocked out of place. When you pull it out, you reach in and pull out the bloodied fabric of a man’s suit and a woman’s gown, and then a box that has photos of you as a kid.. but between two people you’ve never seen.

–

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supersoldiersruined-me · 5 years

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Sinful Dance

A/N: This is my very belated challenge entry for @siren-kitten-his 2k followers challenge! Congrats again love! My prompt was the Lust sin. I took a different approach to my normal writing. The whole text is the same story, but cut into the five senses. Every other part changes pov between Bucky and reader. Warnings: Pining? Dirty talk, swearing, implied sexual situations Word count: 3.7k Additional prompt: “Your lips are getting really close to mine.” from an ask.

Main Masterlist | Challenge Entries Masterlist

- Sight -

A squeaky door slides in front of him, indicating his arrival, fifteen minutes late to the monthly meeting. He grunts as he takes his place between Steve and Nat. A grumpy Tony sits at the end of the oval table, flipping through his binder, not paying any mind to the impatient crew around him. Neither Steve’s pen tapping nor Pepper’s shoulder nudge take him out of his focus. Focus that has the cold room feeling even more tense, and the people in it even more fed up of the eventful week behind them.

It’s a shy Peter Parker who breaks the silence, “Guys, I just really want to, um…”

“Queens, don’t sweat it.” With a captainesque smile, Steve proceeds to reassure him.

“We always have your back,” adds Carol over the hologram.

After a shared laugh over the poor boy’s mishap, the meeting goes on accordingly without too many interruptions. Notes over the new weapons and tech are handed, along with old-men jokes from Nat towards Steve and Bucky’s ever-so-astonished faces. The plans and maps from their regular intel seem to satisfy everyone; Bucky is the first up, ready to leave for a much needed shower and sleep. He stops short before Pepper can even begin to introduce what has a cold shiver running up his spine.

Standing there behind the glass doors, a young woman clothed of the prettiest silk blouse, tucked in a pencil skirt waits for her cue. She walks in, keeping her eyes on the ground as she takes a deep breath. He looks at her, at the way her hair waves over her shoulders. Preppy glasses frame her face and he’s ashamed to admit he wants to paint them with arousal. Weak in the knees, he retreats to his seat, the room suddenly closing on itself, becoming warmer by the second. Her shaking hands set a pile of paperwork in front of Tony for him to sign, then she straightens herself, hopeful eyes finally daring to look around the room. His insides shake; he wishes someone would strap him to the chair because he’s not sure how long he can handle himself before he’s gotta get his mouth on her. It’s grotesque. It’s new. He has no clue what took hold of him.

“This here is Y/N Y/L/N. Thank you, miss.” Tony nods her way as he flicks his pen open, his gaze running through the contracts. “If you have any orders to make for outfits, gear, what ever really, you go through her. And no funky shenanigans, please.” She smiles shyly and scans the room, brushing her nerves aside to make a good first impression. Bucky watches her wipe the palm of her hands over the jersey material of the skirt that’s so tightly hugging her bubbly behind. He wants them on his chest, his stomach, his thighs. He wants them around his d-

“James Barnes!” Nat whisper-screams into his ear, eyes shooting arrows at him. He has the nerve to look at her in wonder. Not concerned by the nature of her accusation. A chuckle on his left, the usual that comes before a snarky remark, finally has him realising something is genuinely wrong.

“Thought your arm was the stiffest thing you owned. But dude,” Sam jokes around, his hand on his teammate’s shoulder as he slowly exits the room, saluting the young lady with a military wave.

Her eyes meet Bucky’s then, and she lets them fall down his features, until they grow wide at the bulge in his sweats. He’s ashamed, caught red handed as he flattens himself the best he can. He wants to run. But there’s a rope tying them together he just doesn’t know how to rip; doesn’t want to anyway. So he stays there in his chair, rolling so he’s at least facing the other way, and waits for everyone to leave before he can make a move.

- Smell -

The sun is down, enabling Y/N to relax and get ready for bed. She was given her room before they had finished renovating it, so apart from her bed sitting in a corner, she has to use the common facilities for another week or two. She walks out in nothing but a thick robe - a neat embroidery of her name sits over her left breast - and heads towards the gym’s bathroom with her toiletry bag. Her sleepiness has her walking through the wrong door and into the men’s room, which she only notices once she walks by the row of urinals against the left wall. She shrugs with a soft sigh, but proceeds. It’s late and who’d be around anyway?

The stalls are made of tall, expensive ceramic walls that even the supersoldiers can’t top. They have actual doors rather than cheap curtains. The only thing joining them is the small gap on the ground where the water runs to a single drain, and another about a foot down from the ceiling to allow the steam to dissipate.

She turns the water on from the separate cubicle before taking off the robe and stepping in, letting the warmth soothe her tense muscles; she hadn’t thought this day would be as stressful as it has. She’s halfway through rinsing her hair when the door slams shut behind hurried footsteps. Her breath hitches in her throat. She freezes. It’s quiet for a minute until the water from the neighbour stall starts running. She stays under the stream, not saying a word and hopes she doesn’t get in trouble.

“Lavender?” His voice is deep and raspy. She’s not sure she heard this one yet. “Guess you forgot your stuff and had to take the samples, huh.” He adds a chuckle to his remark. She scuffs, thinking it would give her away if she laughed with him.

The cap of his shampoo bottle snaps, and slowly the scent rushes through the room, through her senses, to finish its journey between her legs. It’s rich and spicy. A hint of teakwood lets her know this isn’t regular drugstore shampoo. He had it made for him. To fit his needs, to smell like the woods with a faint vintage charm. Only one man in the room earlier could enjoy such details.

Bucky. The man she had read about and researched. Twisted things about him she never understood seemed to be what fed her hunger. He had a je-ne-sais-quoi that drew her in. She’d managed to put it aside; closing books and web browsers was an easy task. Unlike her current situation.

Her body trembles at the scent. Her slick fingers begin to knead into her skin with a mighty need. He’d be the death of her if she didn’t leave the room quickly, but with her head resting on the wall between them, she lets her hand succumb to the craving. She focuses on the sound of his hands rubbing over his hard body. Of the soft hum of satisfaction when he passes over a sore spot. The image of his hard cock in his sweats surfaces. She had never seen something so big, never owned a toy that looked like him in the least. He’d be a new sensation she’d have to have once in her boring life.

She has to bite her cheek to stifle the moans that threaten to give her sinful actions away. Her fingers - now clean - squeeze into her core, pumping in sync with the motions of his hand on his dick that she pictures in her mind. She’s quickly building her orgasm; the inevitable cry of betrayal turning her on even more. She holds on as he turns the water off. As he ambles out of the room and she swears he’s trailing on purpose. When her thumb flicks over her clit just right, Bucky walks out (finally) and she falls to her knees, sitting on her feet with her forearm on the cold wall - her head rests on top of it as she bites down her climax. The soap makes it hard for her weak legs to keep steady as she attempts to get back up. Her hand reaches for the robe, too out of this world to care about drying first. She brings the thick material to her face, hiding her blush from herself as if it was going to erase what had just happened. She wouldn’t handle this much longer. What ever had her feeling this way needed to stop. Or did it?

- Hearing -

His heavy body drops to his bed, making the headboard smash onto the wall. A rather thin wall he shares with Steve - the poor boy. His mind fails to recall the last time he kept his friend from sleeping. Too long, he thinks. Much too long. Y/N comes to his mind then; her soft features and the faint darkening of her eyes at the sight of his appendage. The way her hair would feel between his fingers, bunched up as he had his way with her until they matted on her face. He knows he’ll never get a second chance with her. He’d blown it. So it’s him and his imagination against the odds, but tonight exhaustion has the best of him before he can venture his hand down his pants. He’d have a hard time rushing his blood to where he needs it anyway.

He’s up in a heartbeat the next morning, refreshed and feeling dapper. He walks out of his room covered in nothing but another pair of sinful sweatpants - commando, of course - and one of his tight sparring t-shirts. The smell of fresh coffee and burnt toast welcomes him into the kitchen area, where everyone seems to have settled for brunch. As usual, he’s the last to show up, but his serving along with his double mimosa wait in front of his assigned seat. Placed on its right is another flute of liquid sunshine, a small plate with a half-eaten croissant and a notebook stretched to its limit with notes and clippings and whatnot. He steps towards the table and sits. Y/N fills the seat beside him a minute later, acting casual with a little nod hello.

From the corner of his eye, Bucky notices the oversized white t-shirt she most likely wore to bed. He’s sure she’s wearing shorts but most of them are covered by her top, leaving her smooth legs on display. He’s salivating, and it has nothing to do with the thought of ravaging the pile of bacon. He dares turn around slightly. Just enough so to see her licking the excess chocolate that’s dribbling from the croissant onto her fingers. He forces his eyes shut, his fingers soon digging holes into the fabric of the chair. Then when he thinks he’s gained control, a whisper of a moan escapes her lips when the sweetness hits her tongue, proving once more his infuriating vulnerability. He grabs his plate and he’s up in a flash before his body betrays him again, almost knocking Wanda to the ground as he shuffles around the island. With a lamentable excuse, he disappears into the hall towards the living quarters.

The smell of barbeque lingers in the air as he steps onto the rooftop a couple hours later. He sets the yoga mat down by Bruce’s experimental garden; he had grown fond of this hideout over his healing process. He’s slowly winding down, breathing in and out like Nat had taught him. With a new draft of wind comes the scent of the flower pots that bathe in the sun next to him. He remembers the sweet smell of the flowers his mom kept around the yard; magnolia, lilac, lavender… Lavender?

His eyes scan the surroundings. Lavender doesn’t grow in pots, he reminds himself. He has a look around the yard, as if he didn’t know the place like the back of his hand. Curiosity has him on his feet and roaming around to find the source. He feels a pang to his guts when his sight falls onto Y/N. She’s sitting on a lounge chair, alone. Over the back of the chair he sees one of her legs folded over the armrest, the other is bent at the knee towards her chest. The same white shirt covers her top but her hair is now loose from the messy bun she sported earlier. He watches it dance as the wind carries through. He closes his eyes and it hits him; she was the mysterious man in the shower the night before.

His mind runs wild at the thought of her naked body. At the water running over her skin, tickling her every inch. Or the fact that she must have heard him relieve himself, the squishing of his movements unusually fast for someone who’s cleaning up.

“Fuck,” he hears her clear as day; she just moaned the word out in the open. He’d walk closer if he didn’t have enhanced hearing. There’s another soft moan following and he’s going wild.

“B-Bu,” he shivers. “James, ah, please!” He stands there unable to move as he listens to her calling out his name. Her head falls back onto the chair and her other leg spreads out, mirroring the other. He curses himself because he can hear just how wet she is. He has to bite his lip to prevent his own begs from spilling out.

“So good,” she continues. Another finger slides by the others. He could tell she’s pumping fast with his eyes closed if he wanted, but seeing her shoulder bounce seems to prove he’s not so wicked after all. There is no mirage here and he’s on the verge of snapping his restraint. His sweats allow him extra room for his arousal but there’s no hiding it. His back rests on the brick wall of the staircase now. It’s cold and he needs it. Bad.

“I’m gonna,” No. Please don’t. “I’m gonna come Bucky,” she whimpers. It would be a lie to say he didn’t want her to. He also doesn’t want this to end. Until one of them makes the jump, they’d be dancing this agonizing dance and those little moments are all he’s going to get. She’s right there though, he hears her gush. He rushes into the stairwell. He doesn’t want to know. Doesn’t want to break the perfect bubble he’s put around her. There’s one way he’d let himself hear that and it’s if he’d be the cause of it. Literally.

- Touch -

She pulls her leggings up, hips swaying with the music on her TV. It’s late and she needs the extra motivation to get her ass to the gym. So she struts down the hall, waits for the elevator and makes her way to the basement. The gym’s door is ajar when she gets there, a stripe of light colours the linoleum floor at her feet. She shrugs it off; she made it this far, might as well go through with it.

A tall, square figure gets up from a bench on the far end of the room. Hair well sorted in a bun. White tank-top snug against his back. He turns around and their eyes meet. Her hand reaches for the handle on her way to desertion; a reflex she would have later regretted.

But, “Wait!” He calls after her. The muscles in her arm become frail making her hand fall to her side. She looks at him again, taking longer this time. Allowing herself to indulge and he’s letting her. He wants to take a step forward but she waves him off.

“Bucky, I can’t…” Her words are weak.

“It’s okay. I’m not sure I can either,” he confesses. They sigh in sync. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” She watches his expression of defeat and swallows the lump in her throat. She walks over to the mirror, keeping a safe distance between them. Her eyes meet themselves as she scans her face. They close with another sigh - her forehead leans against the mirror. Fists clench.

“I don’t know either, Bucky. All I know is whatever happens next scares the shit out of me. It’s like Schrodinger’s cat. Open the box. Taste the fruit, and you’ll know. But there’s an outcome I don’t want to face...” She hears Bucky’s shuffle. He’s right by her when she opens her eyes, startling her. She looks at his reflection now. Both of them silent as they go through each other’s doubled features. A wave of spice hits her nose just as she manages to steady her breathing. She bites her lip, eyes looking at his in the mirror. Her finger lifts until it reaches the image of his bicep. She slides it down, the soft squeak of her fingertip against the hard surface makes them shiver. He mimics her action and draws along the line of her hip. He’s bending so low she can feel his breath on her shoulder.

She grants herself to turn around, tired of faking. Tired of hiding her desire and whatever comes with it. He’s right there and accessible and she’s spiraling down a panic attack until he steps up and breaks the tension. His warm hands grab onto her forearms, effortlessly pulling her close to his chest. She’s putty. She’s everything but the confident and sexy woman she wants to be right at this moment. The speed of his heartbeat under her palm lets her know he’s not at his best either. The depth of his eyes sucks her in and heat travels through her, blushing her cheeks.

“Your lips are getting really close to mine,” he says with a cocky grin. It would be impossible to slide a sheet of paper between them.

“Bucky, please,” she whimpers albeit the uncertainty of the moment. She smiles when the weight of her words makes him shiver.

“It’ll change everything.” His hands are on her cheeks now, ready.

“I damn well hope so.”

- Taste -

“I’m sorry Mr. Barnes. Mr. Stark has asked me to inform you that public facilities of the compound are secured with cameras. High definition cameras.” The AI blurts out through the intercom, and it’s as if it, too, doesn’t want to see the following scene unfold.

“Fucking kidding me,” Bucky grunts, eyes shooting to the ceiling.

He feels her giggle onto his chest. The proximity should be firing up his arousal, but the cute gesture hits a whole other cord. Maybe this is what she meant by ‘unbearable outcome’, he thinks. He shakes the thought away, not wanting to break his one and only chance.

“You know, there is one public place that definitely isn’t monitored,” she mentions, wiggling her brows at him. His furrow for a second before he catches her intention. He picks up an elastic band from the rack in the gym before they amble down the hall and back up into the living quarters. He’s first to peek around the corner that leads towards the bathrooms, her body following with a hand on his shoulder for balance. Once the coast is clear, he finds the back of her thighs and picks her up. With a sharp kick, the door opens before them, and to their benefit, the room seems deserted. He sets her down before securing the doors with the elastic; an extra security measure that he knows isn’t the strongest, but it eases his mind nonetheless.

“Go start the showers on the left, I’ll take care of the lights,” he asks. When he turns back around, she’s standing at the other end of the room, five meters or so, but it feels like the world. He looks at her. The tight material of her leggings against her legs. How it delicately rises into her lips. The tank top she sports lets him see the bumps of her breasts perfectly. He palms himself through his sweats, bead of precum already setting a visible round spot at the tip. She’s biting her lip and he wishes he had mind reading abilities. He’d know what she wanted. How she wanted it. He damn well knows what he wants, and he feels nauseous at the idea of finally obtaining it.

“What’s with the staring,” she jokes. He grunts and she smirks.

“You’ve had control over me ever since I laid eyes on you. This has never happened. You’re so fucking hot and I don’t want to ruin this,” he admits.

“Talking will get you nowhere, Barnes.” There’s a wink, followed by her hands reaching for the hem of her tank top - it’s on the ground as fast as Bucky can blink. He takes his own top off, the movement of his muscles making her whimper and he quivers through the steam that’s slowly filling the room. She takes her bra off as he begins to walk closer, only spurring his intentions.

“Jump,” he commands when he’s within reach, grabbing her legs and pushing her against the cold wall. Her legs fit perfectly around him, her short arms hold her steady onto his neck. Her moan when their groans grind together almost has him finishing in his pants.

“God the things you do to me,” he adds between pants. His eyes roam her face and land on her parted lips. He catches her doing the same when his eyes look into hers before giving in. They crash lips in a passionate kiss, making the world stop around them. The showers become distant waterfalls and the steam is nothing but a tropical weather. It’s as if he had just bitten into the sweetest peach. Soft and subtle. Her lips dance with his and it’s the best thing he’s ever lived. They part shortly, only to allow him to take her carefully into a stall.

“Bucky, our clothes,” she whines.

“Don’t fucking care sweetheart.” His lips are back on hers and she’s safely stuck between his broad chest and another ceramic wall. The stream of water glides over his body, matting his chest hair and making his skin glimmer. His tongue travels onto her jaw, her neck, her collarbone. It’s salty from her ever lasting arousal and he hums at the contrast.

Before she can even understand the new dynamic, he’s got his fingers on her pussy through her leggings. It clings deliciously to her body and he needs it. Needs the taste, needs the feel. He has to hear the soft cries he can pull from her.

“You’re a sin, baby. You know that?” he adds in a growl.

#my writing #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fic #kittens seven deadly sins #challenge entry #hopefully the formatting works

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