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someonexsomeone · 2 years

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The Mask... Take it off

Title: The Mask... Take it off

Author: SomeonexSomeone

Word Count: 1.5k

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Summary: Ghost is finally home, and you want. to help him demask.

Authors Note: Did I come back after an unexpected 2-year hiatus just to post something about a man I only know from fanfiction? Yes, yes I did. Crazy bc I actually simp for Soap way harder and if he could only dick me down rq i would sure appreciate it thanks-

His mask was always on.

You knew better than anyone it was a physical reminder of his guarded heart, the years of trauma and suffering he endured, the hope for himself to take whatever broken parts of himself he could and piece together someone who could help the world. Only getting thicker with each year, the mask was his reminder to protect those who needed it. Including himself.

Hard to know what a person is thinking without seeing their face, right? Simon Riley was an enigma.

But there was something in the way his eyes moved, the way they would follow as you walked around the room, carefully putting away his gear into a neat pile as he disrobed. Sitting at the end of your shared bed, he was a hulking specimen of a man. You couldn’t help but notice how his shoulders slumped forward in exhaustion, flickering to them for a moment before returning to your task.

You couldn’t look him in the eyes, not yet. That didn’t stop you from being able to feel them burning into you though.

After years of practice, he didn’t need to look to be able to know what button to press in what order, what hook to pull, what buckle to unsnap to free himself of his gear. He was meticulous, as with everything else he did, but his eyes were the only thing to betray his stoic personality. He watched you with a deep gaze as you silently took care of him like it was no big deal. Like it wasn’t making his hands tremble the slightest bit. How long has he been gone? How many nights apart from you? And how long was he allowed to stay before his phone crackled to life and he was whisked away on another endless journey? You didn’t want to know.

Neither did he, to be honest.

His eyes were trying to catch every little detail into his memory so he could pretend your time apart didn’t feel as long as it did. Your hair was different, he noted, and your nails were painted a different color. He didn’t recognize the pajamas you were wearing, nor the new pair of shoes that were by the door. Changes, changes, changes. He couldn’t help but notice them. He faintly recalls a story he read long ago, about a painting that changed every day despite it being impossible. You were just as beautiful as he remembers, just…different.

Your mannerisms, however, were completely the same. You skillfully tucked straps away, folded his padded vest just so, and even carefully untied the laces on his boots so they could slide off with little effort. You were kneeling in front of him now, pushing the boots to the side, making sure to wind the laces together and place them inside so they wouldn’t go everywhere on the floor. Simon couldn’t take his eyes off of you, not for a second. How he had missed you. He felt like a schoolboy again, tilting his head softly to and fro in order to catch your eyes. To get you to look at him for a single second, to feel relieved that you were here and you were safe.

Your eyes trailed up from his feet to his knees and thighs, no doubt looking for any new or reopened injuries. Your fingers carefully skimmed behind them. Wary. His skin erupted in goosebumps wherever you touched. You moved up higher, gently moving over his stomach towards his side where his latest injury was. Without even looking at his face, you could see the flinch in his body as you grazed the stitches over his shirt, only recently been patched up. You leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his side, a silent apology (for what, he didn’t know). He almost smiled to himself. No doubt you were looking for anything he might have “forgotten” to tell the medic. Wouldn’t be the first time he hurried his own examination along to get the nurses to his teammates faster. After all, why waste their time on tiny cuts and bruises when he could simply come home to you and be showered in love and care he spent every waking moment craving. His hands were clenching against the blankets.

You continued on. Your fingers gently ran along his knuckles, gentle kisses of your fingers against hands that were trained to kill. That has killed. You didn’t even flinch, moving both your hands to his arms, gracefully sliding them up and up and your kisses continued on their trail from his injury. To his ticklish side, his rib cage, a cheeky one to his peck, and up and up until they reached the edge of his mask. His breath hitched. Years, he’s known you, and for years he’s trusted you. You know this. Know that this man trusts you with his life, a testament to the fact that you were one of the rare people to see his face (and more than once at that). But you still feel a little hurt when he flinches at your cold fingers sliding underneath it to press on either side of his neck.

Afraid. Closed off.

You gently nose your way up, running it along his face until your finally, finally, eye to eye. He’s hunched over so your neck isn’t cramping as much as you continue to kneel on the floor, and despite his large stature and the sheer predatory aura he emits without thinking, you can see his vulnerable eyes as they bleed into yours. You can see his struggle, the silent argument he’s having in his head to fight the instinct he’s carried with him for years and let you strip him bare. You press a gentle kiss to his cloth-covered lips, a silent acceptance. You love him, and will love him, no matter what. His lips chase yours as you pull away, his eyes flickering desperately for a second before he registers your resolve.

Ah. You want to help him.

Slowly, you lean down again, pressing your lips to the space at the end of his mask. Between his shirt and the mask is a sliver of skin that you greedily nibble at. He sighs, a smile sneakily tugging at the corner of his mouth. Little by little your kisses and nibbles push the cloth up, revealing more and more for your gentle kisses to attack. They’re light and delicious and Simon can’t seem to get enough, moving his hands to grasp at anything he can reach in order to pull you toward him in a desperate attempt for you to do more. More kisses, more affection, more love. More, more, more.

Your nose tickles his jawline, and he tickles you in return with his unshaven shadow. His breath hitches as the mask slips past his lips. He nearly doesn’t realize your lips attached themselves to his to replace the scratchy material that had just pushed past them. You kiss like you’re in a rush, a gasp of heavenly air after being trapped underwater for a second longer than comfortable. He makes a sound at the back of his throat that, should he have been a lesser man, he would have blushed at. He tries to desperately pull you closer, despite your body already being pressed against his chest, his arms nearly encircling your like a snake around its prey.

Once again you pull away too soon for his liking, leaving him breathless and wanting more. Your lips continue upwards, kissing his nose and the rosy apples of his cheeks as they are revealed. The room feels sweltering, but he can’t let you go. Not now, not after remembering what it’s like to have you in his arms. He has to close his eyes as the mask pushes over them. Your lips kiss each one before he’s able to open them again. You continue even into his hairline, pressing affectionate kisses there until the mask has been pushed completely away. It falls onto the bed behind him. For something that controls his day to day life, Simon easily forgets it in lue of bringing you back to his lips once more. You giggle quietly against his mouth as he attacks you.

Kissing you is like a fantasy he never believed was possible, and desperately, desperately, he wants to memorize each and every detail. He nearly eats you whole, and you’re nearly tempted to let him. He doesn’t attempt to stop the soft sounds that escape him as you once again pull away from him. Your smile is an easy Simon forgiveness pass. He can’t find it in himself to stay upset, especially not as you press one more kiss to his lips before standing, tugging on his hand in order to get him to follow you to the bath.

With his mask completely gone, you finally get to appreciate the small smile that morphs across his face, his adoring eyes saying everything you needed to hear. I missed you. I love you. Your Simon.

masterlist l mw masterlist

#ghost mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley imagines #simon riley imagine #ghost imagine #i dont know how to explain this #im touchstarved #ghost x you #ghost x yn #simon riley x you #simon riley fanfic #simon riley fluff #someonexsomeone

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supreme-burrito · 13 days

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So I just noticed something

This specific artist who does all the Lucifer artwork where they give him white tips in his hair

I noticed that they change his nails too. You would never normally notice it because it’s subtle, but the shower pic shows it off in wonderful detail.

If you look closely, the base of his nails are painted a pale/white color and this artist is the only one who does this

Case in point the second thirst trap UR+ card

His nails whenever his hair is all black, are painted completely red

At first I was thinking it was just the lighting but no, it is consistent

Exhibit A - the UR+ bunny training card

Exhibit B - this SSR Vacation card

Exhibit C - This UR Card from that one event

Even the newest UR+ thirst trap card shows this off

And I just think it’s neat

#obey me lucifer #that last screenshot of the newest card is not mine #and sorry my adhd kicked in

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eddienbird · 2 years

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Part 11 - Super Metal

Eddie & Bird [photo] Part 12

Later on that night, Dove found herself restless. It was around 2:00 AM and she was still tossing and turning, her eyes tightly shut. She groaned when she realized she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep. Instead of continuing to roll around in bed, she grabbed a box holding her nail polishes and went out to the kitchen. She sat up at the counter and filed her nails to perfect rounded ovals. She had turned only one light on so as to not wake Eddie, but she heard him get up anyway. He slowly took a seat next to her.

“Can’t sleep, Buckley?” His voice sounded rough and low as he pushed his messy black curls away from his eyes.

“Yeah. I was tired of trying to force myself to sleep, it was only making it worse,” She sighed. Her eyes focused as she gently sawed away at her nails.

“I’ve had plenty of nights like those. I usually had to smoke pot until it took me out,” He chuckled until he realized it didn’t make Dove react. He cleared his throat. “Painting your nails huh? … That looks kinda fun,” Eddie shrugged.

“It is,” Dove responded flatly.

“Don’t girls usually go to the salon for that though?”

“Yeah, but it’s expensive as hell here and they never do them exactly how I want,” Dove frowned, leaving another awkward silence.

“Y’know I could probably use a manicure too. Just saying in case you’d want someone else to practice on,” Eddie shifted in his seat to get closer to Dove.

“You want me to do your nails?” Her eyes widened in disbelief.

“Well if you’re offering,” Eddie smiled as he held his hands out, his rings shining in the yellow kitchen light.

“Fiiiine,” Dove rolled her eyes and took his hand.

Dove felt butterflies gather up in her stomach as she took his hand. She felt the metal of his rings, which were warm from his skin. She allowed herself to fixate on his fingers, meticulously cutting and cleaning his nails to be neat.

“What color should I paint them?” She hummed as she dug through her box of polishes with her other hand.

“I was thinking something bright pink and sparkly. I think it’d really bring out my eyes,” Eddie said sarcastically. Dove hated that she couldn’t help but find him so charming when he was being playful. She wanted to be angry with him for earlier, but he made it almost impossible. She then found an almost black-burgundy color at the bottom of her box and pulled it out.

“How about this? I think you’d look so metal,” Dove laughed at herself, thinking that she sounded silly using terms like that.

“Oh it would be super metal,” Eddie beamed at her.

Dove enthusiastically began painting his nails, being careful to not get any on his fingers. She found it satisfying with each large swipe of paint she applied to his nails. Eddie’s focus was no longer on his hands, but on Dove. He liked the sight of her done down, in her mint green silk pajama dress and her hair up in a claw clip. He noticed that she didn’t have her contacts in because she wore the infamous wireframe glasses she spoke of before. Eddie slowly built up the courage to speak to her again.

“Dove, listen… I am really sorry about earlier-“

“Eddie, it’s fine. I probably overreacted anyway,” Dove hushed as she tried to keep her focus on what she was doing.

“No, Bird. You were right. It was a stupid thing to do. This is your house, I should respect it… And I’m in a terrible situation, I shouldn’t be pressing my luck like that,” Eddie began to tremble, worrying that she wouldn’t genuinely accept his apology. He felt slightly embarrassed to look scared in front of her, but it didn’t seem to phase her. Her eyes didn’t leave his hands. Dove gripped his hand a bit tighter to steady it while she painted.

“And I should be a little more understanding of your terrible situation. I know I’m super high strung and will freak out on the smallest of details… I don’t know, after thinking about it, maybe I needed someone like you to come into my life. Remind me to let my hair down a little,” Dove blew gently on his nails to help them dry.

“Let your hair down?” Eddie asked with a raised brow.

“Yeah, I mean if you haven’t noticed, I’m kind of terrified of everything,” Dove blew up at her hair, getting it out of her face. “I took one big chance by coming out here, got knocked down with the reality that it’s harder to get out of Indiana than I thought and… I haven’t taken another chance since,” She shook her head.

“And you think ‘Hey, now I’m with outlaw Eddie Munson. Maybe he can help defeat all my demons’?” Eddie looked at her curiously.

“It’s not like that, Eddie. I just wish I could be as fearless as you. You are loud and unique and you say things without being afraid of what people think. You’re not interested in fitting in with others. You’ve probably never followed a trend in your entire life. You are aggressively, unapologetically Eddie. If I had that kind of confidence and power, I could do anything,”

Eddie debated to himself whether or not to tell Dove how scared he actually was. How he’s been running away from everything that scared him in his path, leaving a trail of chaos everywhere he went. He liked that she saw him as this strong figure. He thought back on how he just wanted to protect her. Eddie decided that he would try to be this hero for her to help break down her fears. He would do that by making her feel like she was his hero, someone important that was keeping him safe. She was already halfway there by keeping him safe at home.

“Here,” Eddie stuck out his newly painted pinky finger. Dove tilted her head. “Let’s make a promise,”

“A promise?” she stuttered.

“I promise to make you brave, as long as you promise to keep me safe. Deal?”

“Deal,” They shared smiles as their pinkies interlocked.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #robin buckley #stranger things fanfic

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iryonin · 2 months

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#IRYONIN: SELECTIVE, HIGHLY PRIVATE [ SAKURA HARUNO ] FROM MASASHI KISHIMOTO'S [ NARUTO SERIES ], INSPIRED BY SERIES LORE, HEAVILY HEADCANONED. UNDER21 DNI. STANDARD RULES APPLY. SHORT BIO UNDER READ-MORE.

super open to: crossovers and heavily pre-established dynamics! important note: i give my discord out liberally and post plotting calls often, so don't be shy about sending asks even if we've just become mutuals!

blogroll: @piliyi, @shouyuos, @theirfool

NAME: haruno sakura. in japanese, her full name can be interpreted as "spring field of cherry blossoms" (春野桜, haruno sakura) or "cherry blossoms in spring" (春の桜, haru no sakura). AGE: verse dependent, 12-33. (part II is the baseline, so upwards or backwards from there! i’m not caught up to boruto and i don’t really care about it, either, but the naruto timeline spans around 20 years, give or take.) BIRTHDATE: march 28 (an aries through and through!) SEXUALITY: bisexual AFFILIATION: konohagakure RANK: jonin HEIGHT: 5’9 HAIR: pink; she keeps it relatively short (shoulder-length) for combat-convenience. EYES: seafoam green; her eyes used to be her biggest tell when she was younger. still are, if you know her. OTHER DETAILS:

her hands are pretty heavily scarred; mainly the skin around her knuckles (from punching) but also the soft parts of her palm (from palm strikes); lots of healed-over blisters, as well, but the multitude of tiny scars on her knuckles are pretty immediately noticeable. it was worse before she started wearing gloves (her healing couldn’t keep up with it, even with chakra coating)

her legs are the strongest part of her body; stocky, packed with hard, dense muscle. a lot of her taijutsu involves immobilization techniques so having strong legs to use in various locks comes in handy

her nails stay trimmed short and neat, but she likes to paint them; her toenails too. loves experimenting with colors

her ears are pierced; she has double sets of lobe piercings because she likes the one long/dangly + one stud earring combo, but no other piercings, and no artificial tattoos/body markings

has freckles but they're so faint you don't notice them unless you’re super duper close to her face; it’s like a little surprise :)

LIKES: sweet over savory desserts, scoping out new restaurants to eat at, feeding her friends and loved ones, hair care, memorizing difficult books on theory application she has no previous knowledge of, visiting the market to pick out fresh produce, following current trends, meditation, organizing dinner dates and little daily excursions in general, feeling needed 👍 DISLIKES: weather that’s either too hot or too cold, a messy work station, protein bars, rations in general, being cooped up inside, being on her own for too long, foods that are too spicy, being sedentary, having her work habits criticized, eating alone, early-morning showers as opposed to late-evening ones, feeling excluded👍 PORTRAYAL NOTES:

almost totally immune to poisons and alcohol; basically any inebriating substances have little-to-no effect on her

sakura’s shallow chakra pool is a result of years of dietary restrictions and disordered eating: her poor self-image and her shaky relationship with food resulted in heaps of health problems; she’s still working on it today and needs to stay mindful, but her chakra pool does start growing once she starts focusing on her body’s needs

mokuton user 👍

combat medic 👍

she meditates every day; it’s one of the ways in which she works on her chakra pool and her seal simultaneously. her knowledge about chakra, about the body, about the connection between those two and her ability to mold it makes this a lot easier than it’d generally be for other ninja

her stamina’s her weakest point, so she focuses a lot of attention on endurance exercises; the seal helps, of course, but she doesn’t want to be put into a situation where she has to rely on it

sakura’s old house ie. the haruno estate where she used to live with her parents gets completely destroyed in the orochimaru invasion; she moves in with her maternal grandparents after the third’s funeral but eventually gets a place of her own some time during the blank period of the first timeskip

embodies medicine as an ideal; something that's in place to serve your well-being, and her approach to her patients exemplifies that

LOVE LANGUAGE: physical touch and acts of service

#📌#JUNI. 21+. ANY PRONOUNS.

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beels-burger-babe · 3 years

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All is Fair in Dice and War

***Soooo, @bagelsinatoaster I love this request. However, you didn't specify which board game and as I am a huge nerd I decided to take some creative liberties and combine this with another idea I've been meaning to write which is: MC introducing the demon bros to Dungeons and Dragons. I certainly had fun with this and I hope you like it!*** Summary: Leviathan's world is flipped upside down when MC tells him there is a game that basically allows him to be the Lord of Shadows in real life!! He demands that his brothers join him as MC introduces them all to the chaotic shit show that is Dungeons & Dragons. For once, it was a peaceful day in the House of Lamentation. Lucifer was lounging in the living room with a cursed record playing softly in the background. For once, Satan had willingly joined him and was sitting by the fireplace, thumbing through a book on the human world. Belphie had been passed out on the couch when he arrived and was still laying there with an impressive puddle of drool collecting near his mouth. Even Asmodeus and Beel had joined in, with Asmodeus gently humming to himself as he painted his nails and Beelzebub happily munching on a snack as he enjoyed the sight of his family getting along. Yes. It was perfectly quiet and peaceful, and Lucifer didn't even have any traces of his regular migraine. But of course, nothing good lasts forever. Everyone jumped as the door slammed open and a wide-eyed Leviathan dragged you into the room. The two you very closely followed by Mammon loudly complaining. "Oi! You're gonna hurt them! Cut it out, Levi!" Lucifer sighed and closed his eyes, momentarily mourning the peace that he had just barely begun to enjoy, and closed his book. "Leviathan, let MC go. What are you freaking out about this time?" Lucifer regretted asking the moment the words left his mouth. Levi looked at it with the expression he only ever got when his limited edition Ruri-Chan merch arrived; his eyes were wide and glittering with excitement while his face bore a grin so large that Lucifer was surprised it didn't rip his skin. The third-born was practically vibrating as he let go of your wrist and pushed you forward. "Tell them! Tell them about the game!"

You laughed at Levi's excitement and casually rubbed your wrist. "I was just telling Leviathan about a game that we play in the human world called Dungeons and Dragons-" "You get to make a fantasy world that everyone plays in, and everyone makes characters. You can be a wizard and cast spells against a huge monster! Or a war hero fighter that has been betrayed by his brother! Or a noble knight who is looking for his lost kingdom! And the best part is that it's real!" Levi interrupted, nearly jumping in place as stars danced in his eyes. You put your hands out towards him to try and calm him a bit. "Well, not entirely real. It is played in person, but it's a role play tabletop game, meaning it mostly relies on the players' imagination. That is unless you have thousands of dollars to spend on 3D maps and figurines of your characters." Levi's eyes grew even wider, if possible, as he started shaking his hands up and down. "I CAN HAVE A FIGURINE OF A CHARACTER THAT I MADE?! GAAAAAAAAAHH!" A pillow flew across the room and hit Levi square in the face as a now awake Belphegor glared at him. "Will. You. Shut. Up?" the Avatar of Sloth hissed as a dark dangerous aura grew around him. Beel gently patted his twin's head in hopes of calming him. Leviathan pouted as he noticed no one else seemed to be getting excited about it. "C-Come on guys! This isn't even a video game! It's a thing that we can all do together and personalize it to be something that everyone will like. It'll be fun! Right MC?" You nodded as you gently tossed Belphie's pillow back over to him. "Yeah. I love D&D. I played it all the time in the human world. There's action, suspense, and even romance if you really wanted it," a couple of the brothers perked up at that. "I could put together a one-shot for you guys to try it out if you'd like? I'll help you make your characters, and we can all get together for an evening and play it sometime in a couple weeks." The room went quiet as everyone thought it over. Most of them had no interest in the game itself, but if it was organized by you... "I'm in," Beel decided with a nod. "I think it will be fun. All of us trying something new; it could be neat." Satan casually flipped a page in his book, "The creative aspect of it is definitely appealing. We'd be the masters of our own fate, and that most certainly piques my interest." Asmodeus smirked as he put the cap on his nail polish. "And you said it could be whatever we want? My, one might say that this game could help our wildest fantasies come true~" he made sure to wink at you as he giggled. Belphie, who had only just got back his pillow, scrunched up his face in disgust and launched it at Asmo. "Don't make this weird Asmo," he looked over at you and shrugged, "So long as you do all the work in putting together the character thing, sure. Why not?" Mammon looked over at you from the corner of his eye. "Ya mean to tell me, that you can make it so I'm some awesome, rich, and powerful prince?" Asmo scoffed as he pushed the pillow off his lap. "Please Mammon, even the world of make-believe has its limitations." Mammon blushed as he growled at his brother. You just chuckled and teasingly elbowed his side. "Don't listen to him, Mammon. There is a set amount of how much money you start out with depending on your class and background, but I'm sure we can find something that will make you happy." The second-born blushed even more as he grumbled quietly under his breath. Lucifer tilted his head in thought. "I suppose that if everyone else is playing, naturally I must as well," he stood and began to make his way to his office. "I look forward to seeing what you come up with MC." The next two weeks were spent planning and carefully figuring out the details of the one-shot and the characters that everyone was going to play. Levi was, of course, the first one who came to you to build his character. The two of you spent hours going through the Player's Handbook and sourcebooks to find the perfect build to recreate the Lord of Shadows. In the end, you put

together a human fighter that you gave a couple magic items to make Levi's vision really come to life. It seemed basic, but for the Lord of Shadows, it was perfect. The moment the two of you finished, Levi dove to his computer and ordered a custom-made mini that looked exactly like his character. Satan was genuinely interested in the game, especially after he learned about all the lore and rules behind the different classes and races. You had just been chilling in your room one day when the door burst open. Satan stood there with wide eyes holding a copy of Volo's Guide to Monsters. "MC, why didn't you tell me there are cat people?!" You chuckled, knowing exactly where this was going. "They're called tabaxi, but yeah, they're basically cat people. Would you like to play as one?" He scoffed and snapped the book shut. "Is that even a question? Of course, I'm playing as one." After some discussion and bouncing back and forth between classes a couple of times, Satan settled on a tabaxi druid; that way he not only looked like a cat, but he could speak to them as well. After a few days of you spending time with his brothers focusing on getting their characters ready, Mammon came to you wanting the coolest, most epic character ever. At first, it was clear that he wasn't fully invested in the process, but as he saw the customizable options and all the cool stuff that his character could have, you got his attention. You ended up designing a golden teifling rogue (you tried to tell Mammon that teifling usually wasn't yellow, but he gave you such a sad look that you couldn't say no) that was decked out with piercings and gems all over its horns and tail. He tried to act like he wasn't that excited about it, but one day during class you caught him doodling what looked like a stick figure version of the character on his sheet with a big smile on his face. Asmodeus came in shortly after Mammon finished,

insisting on having the most charming and beautiful character there was. You tapped your chin at the request. "I mean, stereotypically bards are extremely charming and...well seductive...almost too seductive. But that's only thei-" Asmo had hearts in his eyes before you could even finish. "That's what I want to be!" You sighed and made a mental note not to include any dragons in the session as you marked Asmo down to be an elven bard and helped him create his character sheet. You hadn't heard anything from Lucifer for nearly that entire first week, until one day as you were lounging in the living room, he walked in holding a stack of resource books. "Ah, MC. I've been looking for you. I wanted to inform you that I will be playing a half-elf multiclassing as a paladin and hex-blade warlock." You blinked at him as he put all the books down in front of you. "O-Oh. Would you like help putting together your character sheet?" He just grinned and began to make his way out of the room once more. "I've already done it. I must admit that this was quite a bit more interesting than I thought it would be," and with that he was gone, leaving you to try and figure out what had just happened. With only a few days left until the one-shot, you had to go find the twins and get them to make their characters. Beel apologized like crazy for you having to track him in down in order to get his character made. The poor guy was in the middle of peak Fangol season and had completely forgotten. Once the two of you sat down in the kitchen with an empty character sheet in one hand and snacks in the other, Beel gave you his full attention. He put a lot of thought in his character and wanted to make it really good since he appreciated that you were doing something that they could all do as a family. He bashfully decided to play a halfling. Not only did the little creatures share his love for food, but he thought it would be neat to try being small for once. His class was also a surprise. After carefully flipping through all of the class options, he had eventually settled on a cleric. "They're the healers, right? This way I can help the others if someone gets hurt." You gave him a huge hug then and there. Belphegore, on the other hand, was not so easy to work with. "Belphie, come on. Just flip through the book and choose something!" He groaned into his pillow and rolled onto his side to glare at you. "I told you I would play if you did all the work for me. Me flipping through a book is work. It's not happening." After an entire hour of trying to get him to cooperate, you gave up. In retaliation you made his character a goblin barbarian, just to drive in the fact of how much of a brat he was acting like.

Finally, the day came for you all to play the one-shot, and much like you expected, it was complete and utter chaos. You had tried to maintain some structure and keep everyone on track, but it was hopeless. Levi and Satan were taking the game seriously and, Diavolo bless them, were the only reason their party was making any progress. Mammon was trying to pick-pocket every non-player character that they met while Asmo distracted them by flirting. This worked great for them until Mammon got caught and would've died from the resulting injuries if it wasn't for Beel. Speaking of Beel, the poor fella was trying his best to do well in the game but kept getting confused by all the rules and different stats and modifiers. Belphegor spent most of his time, trying to explain it to his twin, but in the end, Beel accidentally ate his dice and Belphie passed out on his shoulder. And then there was Lucifer. He had been mostly quiet the entire game. Surprisingly, he let Levi and Satan take the charge in any investigations and puzzle-based interactions, but he did so with a smirk. You had a funny feeling in your stomach that he was up to something, and you were right. It was the final boss. Satan and Levi were on the edge of their seats, having worked so hard to get the party to this point. You smiled, knowing that one of the best parts of D&D was finally taking down the big bad. In this case, you had prepared a beholder for them to fight. It would be no easy task. The fight should have required them to work together in an epic battle of wits, magic and melee attacks. Only, when everyone rolled initiative, Lucifer went first. The eldest smiled as his eyes sparked menacingly. "For my bonus action, I'd like to use my hex blade's curse on it, which allows me to add my plus four proficiency bonus to all damage, and makes any rolls of nineteen or twenty critical hits. I will then use my long sword with divine smite at third level to attack him and attack him again using my extra attack," barely giving you time to process what he said, Lucifer rolled his dice twice. "And that would be a nineteen and a natural twenty, meaning they're both criticals due to the curse. That should hit, yes?" "Wha-" You could only watch as Lucifer, now with twice the amount of damage due to his critical rolls pulled out a disgusting number of dice and rolled them all. And of course, with his luck, they all rolled high. "So that's 90 points of damage plus the extra damage from the curse and the bonus from my duelist ability per attack, brings this 102 points," he smugly perched his chin on top of his hands as the table gaped at him. You gulped and looked down at the beholder's character sheet, "Y-You just took o-over half of his hit points in one round..." His grin widened at the information, "What, like it's hard?" You never got the chance to finish the game, as Satan burst into his demon form and pounced on Lucifer, the eldest laughing like a mad man, while Levi tore up his character sheet in a fit of jealous rage. Levi never asked to play with everyone again after that. ***This was just so self-indulgent and I just- I loved it. It combined two of my favourite things and I have never been happier. This was more crack than fluff, but either way, it was fun and I hope you nerds out there enjoyed it 🥰 Thanks again for the request @bagelsinatoaster!*** Taglist: @mimik248 @roseytoesy @ester-is-here

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enhyupn · 3 years

Text

⧉ enhypen as your classmate that has a crush on you! ᝢ ∷

pairings: ot7 enhypen members x gn!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of violence in jay’s one

genre: pure fluff + high school!au

a/n this also. Was in my drafts 💭 i was contemplating if i should post this or not but here i am 😫 i Post too much sorry everyone iJust have no life outside of school 🙋‍♀️🙋‍♀️

⌗ heeseung

heeseung is definitely the type of person that tries to talk to the person he sits beside all the time

he nudges you all the time and whispers your name whenever he wants your attention

and the fact he had a huge crush on you also added to it

enhypen always have to listen to him since he never ever stops talking about you. like ever.

“oh my god you will never know what y/n told me when i—” and suddenly he’s cut off by the rest of them yelling “we know!”

you never snap at him because you kinda... enjoy the attention

maybe thats how you knew you kinda liked him too, since you could never let sunoo get away with this if he ever called for your name in class

your relationship only stopped there for a while, since the two of you lowkey scared of each other

“no i feel like y/n’s gonna snap at you one day, like completely just punch you in the face” jay once told him and ever since, he’s never looked at you the same

you think heeseung’s just intimidating, the amount of times you’ve jumped in your seat whenever he’s called your name is numerous

although, one day you fell asleep in class due to the fact you left your english essay last minute the night before

heeseung, noticing you drooling on the table, wrote down the notes for you

he handed them to you after class and you were so touched that you couldn’t stop telling sunoo about it

“his hand writing’s so neat and—” “i get it, you can shut up now!”

you even told heeseung his hand writing was the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen for a week straight

he was happy of course, but honestly unsure how he was supposed to reply to the compliment

he figured out by himself that all he needed to do was ask you if you wanted him to write your name

“heeseung, i mean it! i can’t get over how you write ‘the’, it’s just so— so neat!” “oh really? let me write your name out”

being the smooth guy that he was, wrote down his number instead of your name

and you being the oblivious person you were, ended up being utterly confused

“heeseung i think—” “I WROTE MY NUMBER ON PURPOSE”

you never really got over the shock, nonetheless still took his number and texted him that night

you ended that night by kicking your feet in the air with your face feeling like it was on fire

oh, you also ended up planning a date with heeseung on saturday, not a big deal

it was actually the biggest deal ever

the rest of the head canons are under the cut!

⌗ jay

jay was 100% the type to tease someone when he had a crush to get their attention

he wanted all your attention and the way he got that was through telling you your portrait of a dog looked stupid

well yeah, it did but he didn’t need to point it out

everyone in your art class knew jay had a raging crush on you

he just didn’t know how to express it

his friend jake told him the way into your heart was talking about a mutual interest

jake was, sort of, right about his advice. well, until you and jay started bickering about a character you loved but he oh so hated

“mabel in gravity falls was annoying and weird” “jay if you say that one more time i will shove this paint brush down your throat”

jake, who was trying to play cupid, could not understand why he was so bad at this

i mean jay had no problem getting girls to like him but you? did you genuinely hate jay or something?

“no jake i don’t hate jay” well that answered his question

“he’s just weird” “weird? i’m weird?” “yeah do i need to repeat it again? park jay is weird” you two were a match made in heaven

jay didn’t know when but he had a revelation, maybe this wasn’t the approach he should take to get your attention

after that, he started to be extremely nice to you

it definitely scared you

“d-did i do anything?” “what no? i’m just saying your painting looks beautiful y/n” “oh no something’s definitely going to happen”

he was finally tired of trying so hard while ending up with nothing achieved

jake, being the one out of the two who had the most realistic ideas, decided to give him one more tip

“do you think it’ll work?” “it’s fool proof”

the tip was simply him asking you out to the movies, something that was a little too forward for jay

“no i don’t think it’ll work jake” “jay i swear to god you are going to end up single For the Rest of your Life”

it took... many attempts... and many insults towards you for him to even get the first line out

“Y/NPLEASEGOTOTHEMOVIESWITHME” “the movies? sure” “wait, really? i meant it in a romantic way by the way” “oh? sure i’m free on friday”

turns out you were into him too i mean it was kinda obvious from the way you dealt with those insults

even when you started dating after that date, the insults never stopped

it just now targeted jake, who really is just asking for it at this point from the amount of times he’s asked for credit for ‘getting both of you together’

he was never getting that credit

⌗ jake

jake would leave secret love letters in your locker every time he walked past it

i mean the action wasn’t as secret as he thought it was due to the fact you knew he was the one leaving those letters

for god’s sake the boy was literally in almost all your classes, you were walking the same way as him when he slipped those letters in???

you still were very grateful for them

without them, i think you would of not coped with school

they were all incredibly detailed and even had little doodles drawn around them

you once had remembered he mentioned that he wrote these in the morning before school started during first period

he also told you he was really really shy you found it incredibly cute

the only way he could speak to you without melting was through these letters

somehow you decided that the best thing to do was put replies in his lockers too

his first reaction was complete embarrassment, the fact you knew who he was had his face heating up like nothing else

but he soon realised you didn’t think it was weird or creepy, you actually looked forward to his letters every school day

he mustered up so much courage after that to talk to you in person, to personally thank you

“THANK YOU Y/N!” “NO IT’S FINE JAKE YOU DON’T HAVE TO BOW”

he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck before pulling something out from his back pocket

the final letter in his series of love letters showing up in his hands

“open it” his shy smile making your brain Melt in endearment

the letter contained the usual, the hello y/n! and the usual chatter about his day

what you didn’t expect was the fact he had asked you out at the bottom of the letter

“y/n i’ve liked you for a while now, will you go out with me?” you read out loud before realising what you had just read. “OH MY GOD YOU ASKED ME OUT?”

you pull him into a tight hug, something that jake heated up at

“is this a yes?” “are you seriously asking that right now? of course we are”

you two became the most sickly sweet couple ever

plus the fact you still placed letters in each other’s lockers made enhypen gag (in an affectionate way)

they were just jealous nobody was putting letters in their lockers

⌗ sunghoon

sunghoon always seemed to be there whenever you needed help

especially since you two helped out at the library together every wednesday

he looked forward to it every week, you could tell from the fact ever tuesday he’d remind his friends that the next day he was seeing you again

“tomorrow’s wednesday you know what that means” “yes sunghoon we know, you’re seeing y/n tomorrow”

whenever he’s finished his work (which he does at an incredibly fast pace) he always seems to end up trailing you

constantly asking if you need help, desperate to do something

you find it endearing, always ending up chuckling at his whiney words

“y/n! do you need any help i’m finished” “not at the moment but if you wanna chat i can!”

out of all the enhypen members i feel like sunghoon would have the softest feelings for his crush

like even outside of your assigned library work, he’d constantly check up on you during lunch

“here y/n! it’s a packet of those gummies you like” “how sweet that you remembered! thanks for them”

you, even with sunghoon’s constant affection, couldn’t realise he had a crush on you

you thought that he was like that with everyone, you didn’t think that you were particularly special to get any type of unique treatment from park sunghoon

it wasn’t until your classmate asked you if you and sunghoon were dating

“hey are you and sunghoon dating?” “ummmm no why” “oh my friend wanted to know, they like him that’s why”

that didn’t sit well with you.

you thought long and hard about it but there was literally no reason for you to be bothered about it

i mean? you didn’t like him like that right

wrong

you decided to ask his dearest friend heeseung for help

“heeseung what do i do why do i feel like this” “i don’t know ask sunghoon” “...you aren’t helping”

heeseung being the big blabber mouth he is, told sunghoon all of this

“y/n won’t shut up about you” “really? you’re telling me the truth right? please don’t lie to me”

from many many uplifting comments from his friends, sunghoon was able to talk to you without mentioning the library

“so... what did you do in art class today?” “oh? i don’t do art” i mean at least he tried

after a few attempts he finally hit the nail on the head, securing his place as one of your friend... not the position he was aiming for but at least it was something

that’s when he prepared himself for the final boss (that’s what heeseung called the plan)

interrupting the conversation you both had on what disney show was the best, he popped the big question

“no but mulan was pretty good too also do you wanna go on a date with me” “oh sure! that was really random though”

i mean his timing was incredibly terrible but you were over the moon

even with the calm messages the both of you had sent, the two of you were screaming at your screen, unable to contain any composure

i mean it’s sunghoon... even if he handed you a piece of trash to as his way of asking you out you’d still say yes

⌗ sunoo

no but sunoo definitely asks your friend what your favourite song is and puts it on his story so you can slide up and be like “omg!! i love this song”

OH he also texts you randomly at 11:11 and 22:22 so you think it’s a sign

he so so so desperately wants your attention all the time

he goes up to you at lunch even when you’re with all your friends and makes conversation with you making you forget all about your friends

he sits in front of you in maths! so he knows how bad you are at the subject, he can hear your muttering about how you got a question wrong every morning but don’t Worry! he finds it adorable for some reason

at first he started to pretend he wouldn’t understand a question so he could find a way to talk to you

“hey y/n! what’s six times five again” “are you serious?”

he’s actually kinda good at maths so you’re always confused on how he doesn’t understand basic multiplication but can get 90% on the algebra test

he loves, and i mean loves, talking to you during class

even if the teacher scolds him he doesn’t care, it’s simply the highlight of his day

he gets so pouty and jealous when you excuse him in the middle of a conversation to talk to someone else

he gets jealous especially whenever you talk to his friends instead of him

“hey ni-ki! what did you get for number five?” “oh i got—” “I GOT TWELVE FOR THAT ONE Y/N!”

you kinda adore it not gonna lie

at one point your teacher got incredibly fed up with you two talking class

so! sunoo resorted to passing notes to you

‘y/n did you hear? oh my god, jihan from the maths class beside us told me that yeojin from the year above us got suspended because she started fighting the teacher over her phone. can you believe that? i mean i would of done the same thing’

it was quite clear sunoo talked a lot even through notes too

i mean as if you didn’t reply with the same energy

‘I HEARD THAT TOO!! gowon from her class told me, plus! intak said he saw the whole thing too... omg honestly i think yeojin’s so cool for doing that. maybe i should fight our maths teacher if they try and yell at us for talking again?’

they were one of the many things sunoo loves you for <3

one day ni-ki, being the number one shipper of you two, decides to play Cupid on the two of you

he drew out a note that looked too similarly to a middle school confession text and placed it on sunoo’s desk

“do you like me y/n... tick one. yes. no.” “do you like it?” “what the fuck is this”

i mean sunoo Took it anyways, he knew you’d find it funny too

as usual, you prepared yourself for a long class of sliding notes to each other

you looked forward to it, you found it as a source of entertainment and you liked talking to sunoo anyways

“pssst, y/n!” “thanks— wait did you give me the right one?”

after many whisper shouts and glares from your teacher, he finally convinced you that they were the real deal

obviously. You chose yes

that’s how you landed a date with sunoo to a picnic at han river

sunoo and you were. Kinda.... thankful for ni-ki

you two just never wanted to admit his stupid cupid-ry worked

⌗ jungwon

definitely the type to ask you “what homework did we get?” so he can start a conversation with you

replies to your private story with like “omg that’s so funny” or like “PLSSSSS me too”

you do exactly the same with his ps honestly

he always talks to you before class and you have heated discussions about the homework the night before

YOU ALWAYS ALWAYS end up sitting beside him in every class you have together

like it’s not even on purpose anymore (it’s actually fate)

always lends you pens and pencils when you forget them

he also never Asks for them back so you Have like a stash of them at home beside your bed because you always forget to give them back to him

you and jungwon are the kids in pe class that walk around the track gossiping

“jake told me that half of the soccer team aren’t getting along these days because they all like the same person” “no way really? what about their team work, isn’t there some sort of huge match next week?”

the gossip only stays between you two but only ever during pe

you two talk about more, interesting things outside of pe

since you two are in basically every class together, you walk with him everywhere

once when you were about to trip over, jungwon caught you and when you realised you were in his arms, you just blankly stared at him for a good five seconds

once you got off of him your face started to heat up so fast jungwon’s too

every time you have homework due and you didn’t do it he lends you his word

“y/n take this! it’s the french homework from last class” “thanks so much jungwon!”

the real story starts with when you and him were practicing speaking french in the library

you, being terrible at french, needed some sort of help with this

jungwon decided that, even though he completely sucks at french, he should tutor you!

and there you were, ten reasons why i hate you style, in the library struggling on how to pronounce beaucoup

“bow-cewp” “good job y/n!” “jungwon i know for a fact that you don’t know if i’m saying this right”

you stuck up with it because, well because he’s jungwon

“je t'aime you”

i mean you were Terrible. at french but even the stupidest person in the world could figure that out

“i like you too jungwon, now help me with question six” “YOU COULD UNDERSTAND THAT?” “i had a paris phase when i was younger of course i did”

turns out the Parisian style bakery across the street is the perfect date on an afternoon after school

what was even more perfect was that you got 85% on your test with the help of your boyfriend

⌗ ni-ki

he was your partner in cookery class, the both of you had no cooking skills in your bones but you still made it work

you were in the class since your family constantly nagged at you for being terrible in the kitchen

while ni-ki enrolled because he needed the something to show his friends after school

ni-ki thinks he fell for you at first sight

you were baking cookies as your first task and you basically saved him by reminding him to put on oven gloves before getting the cookies out

“that’s the bare minimum” jay tells him. “i don’t care... you wouldn’t know what love feels like”

he looks forward to cooking class because if you every week

he even has it scheduled on his calendar

honestly it’s kind of a miracle the food you two make is some sort of eatable

he always asks you for help even if it’s the simplest thing ever

“y/n? which one is a cup?” “the one that literally says one cup?”

you don’t care though since you think it’s cute

you always end up doing most of the cooking and chopping whil ni-ki just washes the dishes and watches the pot boil which eagerly waits for the food to finish

you’ve met all of enhypen before since ni-ki likes them to gather around your creations and take pictures of them together

when enhypen first collected him from cookery class, they asked him which one of your classmates were you

he literally shyly pointed at you as he hid his face with his hair

“them” “huh? ni-ki who are you pointing at” “them, beside the fridge”

your final exam was to decorate and bake a cake

it’s safe to say from the many burnt cakes you and ni-ki have done, you two were in trouble

you both wanted that passing grade so you practiced almost everyday after classes the week before

he was in charge of the icing, apparently according to him it was his specialty

“look y/n!” “how cute! a little unreadable but very cute”

finally. the Day of the exam came

you both had to prepare and bake the cake together under two hours

you were lucky that you both weighed the ingredients before you arrived

it was definitely. The most stressful two hours you two had ever felt

it also didn’t help that ni-ki shooed you away when he was icing the cake

by the end of it, your face was Dusted with flour while ni-ki’s apron had butter and frosting stains all over it

you were instructed by ni-ki and even your teacher, to stand where the fridge was, out of your sight to see what he was doing to the cake

you were hazily scrolling through your phone when jungwon snapped you back into reality

turns out jungwon was outside the room the whole exam because ni-ki told him he needed support and having him there comforted him

almost instantly after your jungwon interaction, ni-ki called you from your table, excitedly waving his arms in the air

“y/n! y/n! i’m finished!” “perfect! let me—”

your eyes widened realising his cake didn’t say anything like ‘happy birthday’ like you two had planned

instead the icing spelt out a prettily written out ‘y/n, will you go on a date with me?’

your eyes seemed to water at the gesture, unsure why you got so emotional at icing

“n-ni-ki... that’s so c-cute” “why are you crying? oh my god you hate me don’t you?”

it took you ten minutes to stop sobbing (happy tears) and you gladly accepted his proposal

so now you got a Good grade and an amazing boyfriend that can... sort of! Cook

while eating the cake you were reminded with something, remembering some words from earlier

wait did mr lee know about this?

#enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen timestamps #enhypen drabbles #enhypen x reader #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop x reader

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kanonsarchivedblog · 3 years

Note

❛you looked me in the eyes for a little too long to “not have any feelings for me“.❜ Tobirama/Madara? You can do fem!Tobirama for this if you want!

Word Count: 1317 Pairing: Uchiha Madara/Fem!Senju Tobirama Rating: T Warnings: N/A Author’s Note: This was so much fun to write! And can absolutely be read as a sequel to Burn For You (alternate link), or it could be read by its own. I hope you enjoy it! [ Prompt list can be found here ] ━━━━━━━━━━━━ It wasn’t often that Tobirama found herself sitting in the office of Uchiha Madara, let alone sitting in his presence at all. Her gaze settled on the documents stacked on his desk- neat piles of scrolls, organized by their labels. Documents sat to the left- one stack that had been read and signed, another of yet to be read. He had a few different pots of ink sitting beside his pens, as well- a deep red, a deep navy, and black. The colors of the Uchiha clan, she realized belatedly.

Gaze shifting, she studied the scrolls hanging on the walls- the rules of Konoha, some poem she didn’t recognize off the top of her head, a beautifully detailed painting of a crane sitting on a branch in the middle of a pond, and at the very end, closest to the door- the Uchiwa, otherwise known as the fan that the clan used as their symbol. She’d always found it amusing, how close their clan name was to the symbol they used.

She felt the signature bonfire of a spark before Madara entered, murmuring to his aid before closing the door behind himself. Tobirama turned in her chair, a brow raising as she took in his appearance. “I apologize for making you wait,” he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. Haggard, exhausted- then again, they all were.

“What was the holdup?” She asked, curiosity piquing as he removed the outer layer of armor. “Everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine- your brother is just dragging his feet with any decision he has to make currently.” Madara replied with a grand roll of his eyes before he settled into his chair behind his desk. “Now-... I called you here because…” He trailed off, gaze growing distant.

Troubled.

“We need to decide on how to split the land that the Yuhi have a right to claim and- our ANBU.” They needed a place to train, but the Yuhi held so much land beyond the border of Konoha’s walls, all the way from the valley to the woods, where the Nara land began. “I believe there’s enough space between the Nara and Yuhi, above where the Inuzuka’s land ends, that we could place it- above the monument that my brother insisted on creating.”

“It’s an eyesore,” Madara muttered, drawing a laugh out of Tobirama. His gaze drifted up, studying her features. Despite the late night they’d had- a few late nights, one not even being spent in the office- she looked radiant. Her cheeks held a healthy flush today, and she wore a new shade of lipstick- a darker red, more wine than blood. She’d painted her nails, too, he noticed- an icy shade of blue that nearly appeared white unless you looked close enough. The shade was beautiful, and complimented her well. Icy, like the harsh winters of the Northern countries. He could see her blending into a blizzard so well-

“-ara? Madara, you didn’t hear a word I said, did you? Oi!” She clapped her hands once, a sharp sound that had Madara jolting in his chair, eyes widening in surprise. “There he is! Good morning, do you need a cup of tea to wake yourself up?” Her lips twisted into a scowl. “Honestly, Uchiha.”

“I apologize,” his voice was soft as he shook his head. “I’ve been stretched thin, it seems.”

“Is everything alright?” Concern entered her voice as she leaned forward, her head tilting. She’d tied it up today, he noticed, leaving her bangs and a few shorter strands free from the high ponytail. It only enhanced the garnet of her gaze.

“Everything’s fine,” he replied after a moment, forcing himself to tear his gaze away. “... I think.”

“Is it because of-” she hesitated, struggling to find the correct words. “The other night?” So polite- much different from how she acted four nights prior. “Madara- I want you to be honest with me.”

“I’m afraid I’m too honest with you,” he joked before falling silent, lips curving into a frown.

“Do you have feelings for me?”

“What?” Was it not obvious? He shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe she would ask such a question. “I don’t-”

“You’ve been looking me in the eyes a touch too long to “not have feelings for me”,” she countered, head tilting slowly. He suddenly felt as if he were being examined by a wolf rather than the woman before him.

That’s what she was- dangerous, untamed, strong, a force of nature.

Beautiful.

“Would it be a crime to say that I do?” The admittance was soft, his voice barely above a whisper. His gaze cast astray, studying the unlit candles that sat on a side table, their wax having dripped to the table’s top. “To say that you’ve not left my mind ever since that night?”

“A crime?” She echoed softly, slowly rising to her feet. “No, I think not a crime- not one that could cause harm. Unless you intend to cause me harm. Do you, Madara?” She asked, slowly stepping along the side of his desk, turning, drawing closer. “Uchiha Madara,” she drawled, reaching out with a sharply manicured hand, her nails digging into the flesh of his jaw gently as she turned his chin upwards, forcing his gaze to meet her own. “Do you intend to cause me harm?”

“Never,” he whispered, lips barely parting to let the words slip out, as if he had never intended to utter them aloud. He turned his head slowly, gaze still trained on her own, and pressed his lips to her palm in a slow kiss. “I fear you’ll sooner harm me than I you.”

“Perhaps you’re correct,” she mused, leaning down to brush her lips against the corner of his own. “I would be wrong if I said I did not hold-”

The sound of the door handle turning had them both pulling apart as if they’d been burnt, Madara rising quickly as Tobirama stepped back, her arms crossing over her chest in a defensive position. Mito paused at the sight, her gaze trailing slowly over Tobirama before settling on Madara.

She knows, Tobirama’s mind whispered. She knows.

She knows, Madara realized.

“Did you two forget we have a meeting with the Clan Elders of the Yamanaka and Akamichi?” She asked after a moment, brows raising. “Or did you both decide not to attend?”

“That’s my brother’s job,” Tobirama bit out, her gaze drifting to meet Madara’s for a moment before she turned and snagged her formal cloak. “I didn’t realize that it was time for it. I apologize for holding us up- it was purely my fault.”

“Was it?” Mito asked, her gaze searching as she looked down at Tobirama. There was something strange about Mito, Tobirama had noticed- something she’d felt from the very beginning. Kurama liked to look through her eyes- nosey little fox, he was. And now, peering up at Mito, she could see the amber of Kurama’s gaze settling over Mito’s own dark brown.

The Uzumaki were terrifying.

Mito was terrifying.

Tobirama tore her gaze away. “It was. Uchiha, are you coming, or will you dawdle by the windows until the cows come home?” She asked, not looking over her shoulder.

“Coming,” Madara called as he slipped his formal armor back on. Their conversation was far from over- but with Mito growing more and more curious, they would need to be far more cautious.

Especially with how Mito could hide her entire chakra signature, despite how massive it was. Sneaky little fox.

The Uzumaki walked ahead of them, her head held high- royalty. She knew who she was, and she used that like a weapon. Tobirama could appreciate that- even so, she reached over, the tips of her fingers brushing against Madara’s. A reminder.

This was not over.

His lips curled into a smirk.

What once was a spark was growing into a small fire.

#m's nonny answers #madatobi #madara uchiha #tobirama senju #fem!tobirama #naruto fanfiction #naruto scenarios

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stripper-patrick · 3 years

Text

China Love 🎎Andy Barber

Part 1

Part 2

Warnings: smut, language, daddy kink, straight up nastiness, dom!Andy, angst, protected, this is a 2 parter

Ima try my best to do a 3rd person POV

Tags: @rebellious-desires @mrsbanreswillseeyou @eclecticblkgirl @designerwriterchic @bvssmob

Relationship: Andy Barber x black plus sized reader

~Andy’s POV~

2:46am and all I can think about is her moans and how good I made her feel. Her smile when I walk into the room, how strong she is, especially strong-minded. Laurie stirs in her sleep resting her arm on my chest and that’s when I look at her. I don’t find the same love I had for her before Y/N. It’s not to say I don’t love her as a person. I do dearly and I love her as the mother of my child but I don’t love her as my wife anymore.

I sigh closing my eyes finally drifting to sleep not wanting to think anymore.

...

Y/N has been avoiding me for about 3 weeks and I can’t help but feel bad. The truth is I don’t know how to tell her I want her. That night is all I can think about. I’ve been so stressed out these last few weeks because my son might be a suspect in a murder case. That’s really been weighing on my shoulders especially since I’ve been kicked off the case. Laurie has been growing cold against me and I think she believes our son did it. There’s no way he did it. And I’m scared to ask just in case she thinks I’m trying to accuse her. I just need to know we’re on the same page as a family.

I’m sitting at my desk when I’ve finally had enough. I press the button for my assistant and she walks in with a smile “hey Lynn can you bring Y/N in here to me please?”

“Yes sir” she leaves and I take a deep breath standing up. I watch out of the glass as Y/N pushes her chair out and walks with Lynn. She opens the door and sees me folding her arms. Flashbacks hit me hard and next thing I know I’m having to shield my boner. She looks so gotdamn good with her beautiful mahogany hair placed into a neat puff on top of her head, her shapely body concealed into a short tight floral skirt and an olive green top with nude sandals with gems on them. Maybe it’s because I was drunk but I’m just noticing the tattoo on the inside of her wrist that says ‘breathe’ in intricate letters

“You wanted to see me” she doesn’t even make direct eye contact with me. I nod towards the seat and she shuts the door and sits down. I lean on the front of my table watching her cross her legs and move back.

“Can I ask why you’ve been avoiding me? And don’t lie”

“Because I feel absolutely terrible about what your wife will say when she finds out you fucked your intern and further more I don’t wanna be fired for fraternizing with my bosses boss” she cuts right the the chase

“Understandable but you won’t get fired” I reassure her

“Andy I already have people that don’t like me in this office and I don’t need our business getting out and I’m scared”

“Don’t be Y/N but if you wanna stop I completely understand” I nod “I just want the old us back” I’m referring to how much we used to be. Like 2 peas in a pod. Bound at the hip. Going from best friends to not even speaking is different for us.

She stares at me with her big daunting brown eyes “I bought you a coffee it might be a lil cold but you’ll be ok” I chuckle dropping my head while she stands up to get it. Honestly I don’t wanna stop what we’re doing because I can’t get enough of her but if that’s what she wants then I won’t argue it.

Y/N comes back with the coffee in her hand and hands it to me. “Have you talked to

Laurie about it yet?” She cross her arms looking at me and it’s just something about her stance that makes me wanna place her over my knee and smack her ass red. Laurie never really enjoyed when I spanked her or pulled her hair or even choked her.

“Absolutely not” I take a sip of the lukewarm coffee. She nods in approval.

“Well back to my never ending paperwork to file”

“Just do these for me and fill this out and have it back to me by the end of the day” I watch as YN scans the paper I gave her skipping the other papers. “This is an official hiring worksheet” she states as a matter of factly.

“I’m aware”

“You wanna hire me?”

“Yea and plus you’ll make more money that what you’re making now as an intern so fill it out and you’ve got it” I smile. She bites her lip and I know she said we should stop but I could fill that pretty pussy one more time.

“Thanks” she smiles. I watch her walk away before taking a deep breath. I sit back behind my desk and continue working.

....

Another late night at the office. I sigh rubbing my hands over my face. I look out and see Y/N coming in here. I believe it’s only me and her in here. I watch as a tall man stand up and walk to her. It’s Neal. He slams papers on her desk startling her yelling throughout the office.

“You dumbass bitch. You filed the wrong fucking stack” she stands up in protest. Anger fills me half way and I’m about to slap the dog shit out of him for talking to her like that.

“Don’t you ever in your gotdamn life say some bullshit like that Neal. I’ve dealt with your shit long enough. That stack was getting filed regardless right? Ard then chill out with the fuck shit” there’s her Baltimore accent. He rises above her with intimidating power and I stand up jogging to the door. Anger washes over me as I swing the door open and stomp towards the pair. I didn’t even notice the shocked scared expression painted on Y/N’s face. I grab Neal by the collar seething like a rabid animal. Without saying a word to him I give him a death glare as a warning.

“Andy” Y/N peeps out. Neal cracks a smile and I press him against the wall watching the humor drain from his face replaced with sheer terror.

“You think this is a joke? Do you?” I scream

“Andy” Y/N screams louder and I come to my senses. I let him go watching him scramble to gather his things leaning collectively. I let out a deep sigh and she’s comes to my aid rubbing my shoulder “calm down I’m ok he didn’t hurt me”

“He wouldn’t have gotten the chance” I take a deep breath

...

It’s been a few weeks since the ordeal and unfortunately after that I was let off my sons case. To make matters worse me and Laurie got into an argument that I’m sure puts us close to the brink of separation. I believe that she thinks Jacob murdered Ben and she won’t admit to it and keeps trying to switch the narrative.

I’m sitting on the couch drinking a beer at 10:30 at night when I get a call. It’s Y/N.

“Hey Y/N” I swig the last of my beer

“Hey Andy are you busy?” She asks. She sounds nervous

“No why?” I ask smiling at the sweet sound of her voice

“Can you come by the office I have something for you”

“Y/N you know they’re gonna lose their shit if they see me in there especially after hours”

“Please it’ll be worth it” she pleads. I can already envision her bottom lip puckered out and her arms crossed. I sigh standing up stretching my back

“I’ll be there soon”

“Yay” she perks up and I laugh hanging up. I grab my coat and hear the footsteps of my basically estranged wife approaching.

“Where are you going? It’s 11:30”

“To handle some business at work” I lie. I’m not even sure what Y/N is up to. If it’s what I think it is then of course Laurie can’t know.

“I thought you were kicked off the case”

“Just some important files I forgot to log into the system. No big deal” I pull on my coat placing my hood on my head and exit swiftly. The heavy rain patters hard on the concrete splashing upward with each step I take toward the car.

I get in and press the start button watching Laurie observe me through the curtain. I reverse out of the driveway pulling off into the night.

....

I open the doors and see YN standing there with a trench coat and some heels on and a bottle of champagne. She doesn’t notice my movements as she smoothes out the wrinkles in her coat trying to perfect herself. She doesn’t realize she’s already perfect.

“To what do I owe this dubious pleasure Ms. YLN?” I inquire placing my hands on my pocket and leaning on the door frame. Her smile is bright when our eyes lock.

“Well I have made a change of my mind on something” I walk towards her where she sits me down in the chair standing before me. My heart is racing and my dick is starting to get hard.

“I bought the champagne just in case you need some extra convincing” she laughs. YN opens her coat dropping it on the floor revealing a beautiful 2 piece LINGERIE set. Her body compliments the piece beautifully and that’s when I really take her in. Not just for her sex appeal but for her in general. She kisses me leaning down and straddling my waist where I hold her hips and grab a handful of what’s really mine.

<3rd Person POV>

Andy can’t help but moan as YN grinds down on his thick throbbing boner just waiting to be released from its shackles. Her dominant side takes over and she grabs his face planting an open mouth kiss on his neck. She works on his pants getting on her knees. Mouth salivating as his dick finally springs free. She wraps her acrylic nails around the base swirling her top around collecting the precum.

Andy sinks in the chair ravishing in her skills. He presses her hair out of the way watching the way her pretty brown eyes stare back at him while she sucks and slurps her way to his soul. His head falls back guiding his hips into the back of her throat never breaking rhythm. She pulls his penis out of her mouth rubbing her thumb and palm over the tip while she takes one of his balls in his mouth. A loud moan escapes his lips. Andy has never experienced this before. Not this detailed to say the least.

All the while he’s receiving glorious pleasure, Laurie is home rocking and sobbing on the shower floor. She’s come to the conclusion that her husband doesn’t love her anymore and than her son is a murderer. While one of those is true she can’t help but feel rage and insanity boil within her.

Laurie collects herself and dries off grabbing a pair of jeans and a a shirt. She places her wet hair up letting it air dry. Her long legs stride to her sons room where he’d playing his game but pauses it and looks at her “are you ok mom?” Jacob asks

“Come with me honey we’re gonna go for a ride” before he can respond Laurie leaves the room going downstairs grabbing her shoes. She’s out of her mind. It’s like she’s watching herself complete this indescribable action and she can’t stop it. But she knows deep down in her heart Jacob murdered this boy and she can’t live her life knowing her son is a murderer.

Andy pulls YN up by the neck dragging his tongue along the bottom of her mouth holding her captive in his spell once again. He pulls her panties off collecting her wetness through his fingers. She’s more than ready. Andy pulls YN down on top of his dick watching her gasp as he fills her up.

“Feel that?” He rasps “that’s all yours”

“It’s mine. You’re mine” she utters rocking and swirling her hips electrifying her heated body. Her hands grip the arm rests of the chair as Andy starts pumping up into her.

Her sweet moans. Andy could listen to her moans all day. Laurie was never loud or pornographic like this. Not by a long shot. He watches her ass bounce on his lap as she licks and nips as his ear. The clapping and slushing sounds of their juices makes music to YN’s ears.

“My dirty little slut so fucking wet for me”

Meanwhile Laurie has just downed her second glass of bourbon while waiting for Jacob to approach. She places her glass in the sink when she hears his footsteps.

“Mom where are we going?” The young boy asks watching his mother look so far gone it looks like it’ll take her aged to return.

“Just for a drive” is all she says before she grabs the car keys walking past him and to the car. Jacob shuts and locks the door placing his hand on the car door and instantly gets this gut wrenching feeling that he needs to stay home.

“Maybe I should stay?” He asks

“Nonsense just get in” she starts the engine and Jacob takes a deep breath getting in the passenger seat. He grabs and locks his seatbelt as Laurie pulls out of the driveway pulling off. She takes an unfamiliar road of what looks like dark road. The sound of the rain was always Jacobs favorite. Only this time it dreaded him even more. The rain was heavy, loud, and unforgiving to any car that would step forth on the slippery slope with a daring intention to overcome it.

“Jacob I’m going to ask you one question and I need you to answer honestly” oh no. Jacob knew this question all too well “did you kill Ben?”

“Mom I already told you no” that wasn’t the answer Laurie had damn near given up her marriage for and she knew it wasn’t the truth. She just couldn’t shake this feeling that he was lying. Before she knows it she starts speeding up to 30 miles an hour when the speed limit is 35 but of course driving slow in this nasty weather is imperative but she didn’t care. It was imperative for Jacob to tell her the truth and she was convinced he wasn’t doing that.

“Jacob I’m being very serious tell me the truth”

“I am mom slow down” he pleads with her trying to understand why he isn’t believing her. Her foot presses on the gas even more going 45 miles an hour He goes on his Apple Watch sending a quick text to his father praying to God he answers immediately.

Andy’s wrist buzzes but he doesn’t even bother looking at it as YN whimpers his name. Her hands shake as they try to find something to grab onto. Andy grabs her arms wrapping them behind her back as he holds her waist down thrusting upward hitting her sensitive g-spot making she cries out and squeeze his thick hands. The black hole soon to swallow the two up at the same time.

By this time Laurie is screaming at Jacob and has reached 70 miles an hour down the long road. Jacob pull on his seatbelt which locked for his protection. “Jacob I know you did. Your father may believe your lies but I don’t. You’re just like him. He lies to me and says he’s doing work and I just know he’s screwing someone else” Laurie is fed up. Tears pool both of their faces. Hers in despair and Jacobs in fear. She reaches 90. Jacob has been trying to call Andy and to no avail, no answer. He’s weighed all the possible outcomes of throwing himself out the car but with his locked seatbelt it won’t work.

“Jacob tell me the truth” before he can answer she presses on the gas going to 100. His chest is tight and Jacob has a feeling he’s going to die.

YN’s legs shake as Andy keeps drilling into her relentlessly wanting to make the biggest mess of her. “Neal can’t have you. No one can have you your mine. Fuck this tight pussy is gonna make me fill you up”

“Andy I’m gonna cum”

“Cum for me darling” As the pair reach their climax grasping onto each other for dear life Laurie reaches hers screaming at Jacob continuing to incline the accelerator as he continues calling his father on his apple watch. The teary eyed boy sees that the speedometer has reached 104 Mph and all attempts to try to stop his manic mother have faded. He silently prays as she yells one final statement “I know you did it”

Andy clutches YN’s quaking body as she whines taking the thrusts of his dick with no other option. The duo moans out loudly just as Laurie and Jacob scream before black consumes the both of them. She crashed the car head first into the side of a brick tunnel.

YN looks at Andy who has a small smile on his face. His hands unwrap from her lower back where he held her in place and she looks at his Apple Watch seeing the 7 missed calls from Jacob and one text reading: “mom losing shit”. YN glances at the time displaying 1:22am. Why is Jacob awake and why did he call 7 times.

“Andy you need to go. Jacob called you 7 times” his eyes go wide as the brown skinned mistress pulls herself off of his deflating member as he tries calling Jacob back. It goes straight to voicemail. Andy can’t think of anything but the worst.

#andy barber smut #andy barber #defending jacob #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans gif #chris evans imagine #andy barber imagine

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kawaiijohn · 3 years

Text

DP Angst Week Day One: Birth/Creation

Ao3: here!!

Wc: 1463

Nav: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

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The Abyss

Waking up without any idea where you are is a pretty prevalent fear for many, and for others it's nothing more than the aftermath of a baller pub crawl.

However, most don't find themselves surrounded by a vast swirling void of lime highlighter green when they wake.

The first thing they noticed was the barren hunk of rock they'd woken up on. Grey and deep violet, yet still surrounded by the swirling neon green skies.

'Either there's a storm comin' or I'm not 'in Kansas' anymore...'

They tried to think about how the hell they ended up here, wracking their brain for any small detail, but they realized they couldn't remember anything. Not their name, nor their age- nothing was coming to them. They knew 'they' was right and so was 'he'; the words felt right, even if there was no name to match.

The more he thought, however, the more his head began to swim. There was nothing before they'd opened their eyes this morning. Or was it night? Evening??

Time didn't seem to matter here.

The toxic sky made it impossible to tell what time it was, and the purple and grey soil they were standing on made them assume they were possibly on a different planet.

What kinds of things might even live here? If anything does live here, that is. Alien life had to exist, right? We hadn't contacted them yet due to both distance and technological incompatibilities... Something clicked, filling in a blank.

'I believe that's referred to as 'The Fermi Paradox'.

He blinked, not knowing where the phrase came from. How could he recall a niche scientific theory but couldn't even recall what he'd been doing the night before??

He was panicked- trying to remember anything; his age, birthday, zodiac sign... was he a Scorpio or a Gemini? Maybe he was a cusp or something interesting...

He had to know something else... Maybe he could try and recall his Myers's Briggs personality test- then he'd find more information from inference... But not everyone fit into neat little boxes even if they were wonderful starting points...

His chest buzzed pleasantly with the train of thought, but he was no closer to an answer.

He could be in space for all he knew.

Or maybe an alternate realm...

'What, did I get hit by a truck and transported to another world?!? Is this, an Isekai or something?? ...Why do I know that word, but have no clue what my name is????'

Irritated, they looked to the horizon, spotting a floating island. He was going to dismiss it but felt something calling to them from beyond.

The feeling brought them to their knees.

They shook their head, trying to ignore the call, knowing the jump was impossible to make. It would be suicidal to take that leap...

Right?

They exhaled harshly, a strange hiss passing their lips as something vast and empty in their chest demanded they take the leap. No matter how unsafe their mind knew it was, their chest was still singing for something the horizon; calling out to that something with such pulling force it felt like a black hole would devour their common sense.

Time marched on, but they did not move.

They knelt, refusing to listen to the call until their head stopped spinning. Their knees crunched hard into the sharp gravel, digging trenches to stay grounded.

Why didn't their knees hurt from this? They've always had bad joints, especially after the- after...

After what?

They clawed the dirt, shaking in fear at what could be beyond their small respite in the lime abyss. Their mind was blank, torn between urge and indecision. They could sit here alone and think more. Or. They could follow the call.

It could be a trap.

But.

Something deep within told them they'd always felt comfort in nothing, even before this. They'd always felt comforted by the void. They didn't know what all it meant, but it was better than sitting there any longer.

So they followed their heart.

It was better to die trying than to remain a sitting duck in exile.

'Geronimo.'

They expected to die, to perish as they fell into the endless (and somehow comforting) vast sea of lime; to spend eternity gazing into long nothingness until they passed the event horizon and became one with the universe.

Instead, they floated.

They managed to fall about three or so feet before righting themself, head whipping erratically- up, down, left, right. This shouldn't be possible but...

He tested the waters (so to speak) and found he could pretty much fly. They grinned, mouth splitting farther than they remembered it being able to, but that was a mystery for later.

They sighed, relenting, and followed the siren's song.

-----

Some things seemed to be very out of place. Wrong, even.

Firstly, his hands were completely black. Not just the black of cloth, but black as the void of space- small pricks of light shone when he smiled and constellations vibrated when he grew frustrated with his amnesia. Obsidian talons (he couldn't even begin to call them hands, not with how they seemed to grow in response to his emotions) replaced what he thought for sure would be bitten nails with torn cuticles. He didn't know why he expected chipped blue nail polish.

They'd just painted their nails a few days ago and with their job it always...

'Wait... what was my job?'

Why did that confuse them? They had a job. They knew they did... It was... They brought a hand to their head, thoughts turning into radio static

'My job was...'

Faces and colors they couldn't place assaulted their mind. Names came and went, leaving nothing but lingering feelings- like a song cut off by a garbled PA announcement, the clouded memories were interrupted by crackling interference.

Claws brushed his face as black droplets rushed from his eyes.

That wasn't right either...

Nothing was right but they kept flying.

-----

Green seas shifted into a black expanse, the lime color swirling faintly in the distance instead of consuming the skies. Purple doors hovered every which way they could.

Relieved that the skies became less eye-burning, they spoke for the first time. "Thank gods!! That neon hellscape was giving me a headache..."

A pause.

That wasn't right. It didn't sound right at all.

That wasn't their voice.

Their voice was nasally, high pitched and awful. Nothing like the deeper growl they just heard... Though they were slowly panicking, the deeper voice felt right. It was something they didn't know they wanted, but it clicked as if it were natural.

But it didn't matter how pleasant it sounded, they needed to keep moving.

-----

Was it days? Hours?? Were they flying for weeks?

They didn't know, had absolutely no fuckin clue. But what did know was that they'd reached their destination.

It didn't stand out much, but for reasons unknown he felt comfortable here- at peace. His heart led him to a small island. Strange, yet familiar flowers grew in patches around a worn, yet glowing path leading to a door- black wood door with silver embossment.

"Fancy..."

He looked around- well there wasn't anything else around...

They approached the strange structure and flinched when stylish street lights flickered on with a blue-green flame. The weird vibrating in their chest sang that they were here.

This was home.

He stepped back, looking high and low. He did not trust like that. The door wasn't even connected to anything! With more investigating he saw the path reacted to his footsteps but not much else.

"Great! I get led here by the power of friendship or somethin and can't even get a break??"

He grumbled, hissing under his breath as he felt his body elongate and warp in frustration. This was all the damn door's fault!

Stupid fuckin piece of driftwood!! He ran up and kicked the offending structure, noting that he felt no pain even with an all-out kick.

In his growling frustration, however, something metal and glimmering appeared on the door- a nameplate in somehow familiar handswriting.

The void in his chest sang, something finally clicked.

"Quizz, huh?" They laughed to themself. "Thought my name'd be somethin cooler! Like Maxwell... or Levi." They crossed their arms. Progress! "Well... guess beggars can't be choosers or whatever the hell that phrase was."

They found themself hesitating. That wasn't the way to go! They were certain they weren't a quitter, even with as little as they knew of themself. No, there was an apparently magical door with their name on it that called them from across the void.

No real reason to hesitate anymore. They reached for the handle with a wicked and determined grin.

"Alrighty then! Let's see what's behind door number one!!"

#dantes vibe corner #dp #danny phantom #dp oc #dp quizz #quizz #my fics #day One origin #going angst week 2021 #here take my BULLSHIT

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sixteenthshen · 3 years

Text

Episode 1 Notes/Meta

Contains minor spoilers up to Youtube's schedule and references to the novel

Since I don’t have any new episodes to watch until Friday, I decided to watch the drama all over again, very closely, to see if there’s anything new to discover.

Zhou Zishu's character:

Drama immediately sets the backdrop/tells us why his character is kinder, more compassionate than in the novel. We don't know that drama!ZZS is kinder yet at this time, but we can see that he's schemey and sneaky

He wears a mask of indifference as the Window of Heaven's leader (sorry ZZH, I was wrong. I thought your acting was stiff during one scene, but now I know better). It's one of the many subtle faces of ZZS.

Wen Kexing's character:

He must be a highly-skilled martial artist based on how easily he kills two ghosts and that he can spot another skilled martial artist from a distance (beggar Zhou)

He's quite schemey. First, when he orders all his subordinates out to hunt for a man he just killed. Next, when he lets Gu Xiang go to check on the beggar, he's also subtly using her to test that unknown person's martial arts skills.

Why they're soulmates:

WKX understood immediately what "beggar" Zhou was doing (suntanning)

They're both well-matched schemey bastards

Behind the cut, geographical details and some details about the supporting characters. This is a very text-heavy post FYI

In chronological order:

20 years ago, Rong Xuan was killed by the Five Lakes Alliance and the gathered heroes.

Prince Jin is based far away in the North (Hedong 河东), where he holds power. It implies most of the story later takes place closer to the south of China.

Prince Jin ordered the Window of Heaven (TC in short, for Tian Chuang) to assassinate the Military Governor of Zhenwu (Officer Li). The Zhenwu Army is located somewhere around Inner Mongolia today.

Prince Jin falsely claims the Military Governor is a traitor to the country and has him assassinated. Prince Jin harbours treasonous thoughts, and in turn, makes ZZS and TC traitors.

Officer Li recognized Zhou Zishu by sight (calls him Officer Zhou), which means that they must have met previously somehow. He is shocked to know that ZZS is the leader of TC, so TC must be a secret assassin/spy organization (like an ancient CIA)

Zhou Zishu gets a drop of blood on his sword and flicks it off – he does not like blood.

Princess Jing An knows ZZS and first calls him Zhou shixiong (her first instinct is to use a familiar address). She later changes it to Officer Zhou when she realizes what he did.

Princess Jing An quotes, "The flowers blossom in all four seasons, knowing everything in the world", which makes ZZS turn to look at her - he sees the hairpin that his shidi Qin Jiuxiao made for the one he loves. ZZS gets super sad.

This line of poetry refers to the Four Seasons Manor (ZZS's martial arts sect)

ZZS, during his time as a court official, intentionally has a blank mask, so his emo is seen only in his slightly teary eyes. Removing this mask is also part of the freedom he seeks. Possibly symbolic that he feels freer living behind a physical mask than he does with his face.

Prince Jin ordered ZZS to personally nail the seven nails into Bi Chang Feng (Uncle Bi). It seems somewhat cruel of the Prince. ZZS walks with 2 of his commanders – Duan Pengju and Han Ying.

Uncle Bi calls ZZS Manor Lord (庄主)*. He says he cannot help but suspect the motives of Prince Jin. ZZS shows a slight reaction to this. He knows the motivations of Prince Jin by now. Not only is he a traitor himself, but he dragged all his 81 men down with him.

This is the root cause of ZZS's different personality traits in the drama and novel. I think his character in both the book and drama adaption is similar, but his additional compassion stems from being placed in different circumstances.

Novel!ZZS did terrible things for the right reasons. As a result, he won't feel as guilty and has less reason to be so compassionate.

Drama!ZZS followed the wrong master, and the awful things he did were for treasonous reasons. There's no justification for the lives he took. Because he did worse things, he's better able to "see the light" and understand things in life better. Therefore, kinder.

The motto of the Window of Heaven (as requested by Prince Jin):

The members are to carry out their missions without leaving a trace (shadow without traces)

Once a person enters TC, they're never to leave (entry without exit.)

To know everything and to be everywhere.

When the camera cuts to ZZS's two senior officers, Han Ying shuts his eyes sadly while Duan Pengju has a slight smile on his face 🤨🤨.

Nails of Seven Torments (七窍三秋钉) – seven nails, each to be driven into the seven primary acupoints (for martial arts) in a person's body. After that, a person won't get to see more than three autumns. They would lose their martial arts ability entirely, and their five senses deteriorate over time, preventing the secrets of TC from being leaked. (see #2 of their motto)

ZZS does not like anyone who's not from his sect to call him Manor Lord, as it's a reminder of his failings. He doesn't think he has the right to be called that any longer since he ruined his sect.

Prince Jin calls ZZS by his name directly (Zishu); it implies a certain level of familiarity. However, ZZS hasn't been presented himself in front of Prince Jin in some time, suggesting he has already distanced himself from Prince Jin (and a certain level of disrespect)

From Duan Pengju, we learn that ZZS hadn't taken up his sword much in the past year due to a lingering injury; this time at the Military Governor's residence was the first time he wielded his sword in a while.

DPJ also uses this word again (又) in Chinese to describe ZZS aggravating his injuries again (that isn't in the YT subs), which implies that he has suffered other internal injuries before, not solely from QJX's death. DPJ is subtly suggesting to Prince Jin that ZZS is no longer very fit and not suitable for his role (shows us his ambition).

ZZS's current injury (that Uncle Bi refers to and why he coughed up blood in the snow) came about after Qin Jiuxiao's (shidi) death. He coughed up blood then and fainted.**

ZZS's residence is called Chongming Garden (重明苑), where he has a mural of 82 white flowers and the line of poetry about the Four Seasons Manor. He paints each flower red when one of his original sect members pass away. There's only one white flower left --- himself. See this link for a more detailed translation.

ZZS scolds a vision of his shidi not to cry. ZZS's assertion that men shouldn't cry comes up several times later. His eyes only get teary after this scene, and not a single tear falls again (still canon for now).

ZZS has an official court position. He's an Imperial Guard with some seniority, and it's likely why the Military Governor calls him Officer Li. (A governor would not call a low ranked Imperial Guard “Officer” 大人 daren)

ZZS has several battle wounds from a blade, but the ones on his back (shoulder blades) look messy. Not sure what they are yet, but I think it could become relevant later.

Prince Jin appears unstable when he talks about everyone leaving him. Yunxing and Beiyuan are both characters from Lord Seventh. Beiyuan is the titular character of that novel. When Prince Jin said, "Beiyuan is gone too", ZZS displays a minute reaction because he knows Beiyuan isn't actually dead.

Prince Jin says ZZS is ruthless, but he's even more so to himself (recurring description).

Here, we see that ZZS knows of DPJ's ambition to take over his job when he says they both get their wishes today. DPJ becomes the new TC leader.

Prince Jin lets ZZS go. As he watches ZZS leave, he recites two lines from a poem, which title roughly translates to "on one's deathbed/imminent death".***

“涓涓江汉流，天窗通冥室。谗邪害公正，浮云翳白日。” Small streams can become large rivers; even a window as small as a skylight can brighten a dark room. Rumours and evil can harm the public good; clouds can block the bright light of the sun.

There's some foreshadowing here. Prince Jin sees ZZS leaving as a threat. It could be that one person leaving TC "standing" may lead to an exodus or that ZZS knows too much to be left alive outside for long. Prince Jin sees himself as the righteous and the sun here. He follows the recital by saying he's only letting ZZS go for now.

ZZS's beggar styling is supposed to juxtapose his strict and neat dress as the leader of TC, including his hair and overall CBAssed-ness of how his clothes hang.

Hanged ghost died super quick. We see an arm covered in a red sleeve strangle him to death. Red sleeve dude seems to be the head of the Ghost Valley (yaaaaa we know who you are)

WKX lies to the masses about the Hanged Ghost and tells them to set forth out of the Ghost Valley. We can see that all of them are scared of him. He has a scheme -- but we don’t know what it is yet.

WKX and ZZS meet (yay!!!) in Yue (modern-day Zhejiang, in the south), far away from Prince Jin. We should note that this is very far away from the North, where Prince Jin and TC hold power.

ZZS would rather be a beggar than the Emperor. The freedom to live and do whatever he chooses is more important to him than riches or power.

WKX understood what ZZS was doing right away (while GX thinks he's a beggar). This is why they're soulmates!

Gu Xiang's cuteness comes off as a little forced here, but upon re-watching, I believe it's because she hasn't been out in the "human world" before. Her mannerisms are all learned from her life in the Ghost Valley. She's also about ten years younger than WKX, so she's supposed to be more energetic.

WKX allows GX to go down partly because he is curious about the beggar, who seems to be very skilled at martial arts. GX is quite a straightforward and innocent person. She's unaware that she's helping to test the beggar's skills for her master.

WKX notices the ZZS's martial arts and stands up right away. This scene is also more important than it seems to be at first. Later in episode 2, it's revealed that he recognized the beggar's particular martial arts as unique to the Four Seasons Manor sect. I think it's the first hint that beggar Zhou may be "Zhou Zishu". (We find out that WKX knows ZZS's real name in episode 6.)

ZZS intentionally hits himself to make himself seem like a poor injured beggar and GX a bully. It shows that ZZS is sneaky – and again, ruthless, even to himself.

* ZZS is not a real lord. He's the sect leader (Manor Lord comes about because his sect's name ends in Manor, and the address "my lord" comes from Manor Lord). ** This is a fictional type of injury, where people in Chinese historical dramas cough up blood when they suffer severe emotional shocks that cause some unexplained internal injury. *** 《临终诗》

#word of honor #word of honor meta #wen kexing #zhou zishu #not lying about text heavy #1800 words wtf

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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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forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years

Text

Gladly Be a Fool

Fandom: A Discovery of Witches Pairing: Phoebe Taylor/Marcus Whitmore Rating: E Word Count: 2883

Summary: The missing scene after Phoebe and Marcus stumble into his bedroom in episode 4.

“Is this alright?” Marcus asks, despite feeling Phoebe’s calf wind around him like the heavy scroll on an antique gilt frame—the kind of thing they surely have in the vaults at her auction house.

“Completely,” she says against his throat before leaving a lingering kiss. “Does it seem like I think this isn’t alright?”

“Just checking.” He laughs at himself, scoffs with his eyes shut. “It was only that you looked a bit disoriented when we…”

“Flung ourselves onto your bed?”

Phoebe’s bold. He suspected, even with her backtracking after kissing him by the cab, and he enjoys it immensely.

“Yes. Forgive me. Occupational hazard.”

Smiling, he bends his head to her neck. She tilts her head to make space for him. The hum of blood beneath the surface of her skin is more intoxicating than the red wine, less than the creep of her fingers unbuttoning and spreading his shirt. He wishes he were wearing something smarter; blue plaid isn’t his go-to seduction look. However, he didn’t foresee this when he darted to Phoebe’s office earlier. That just toppled into dinner, from dinner into a lovely stroll while they discussed his taste in music to the soundtrack of her laugh, from playful conversation to the kiss that left him longing on the sidewalk, to her surprising call, to, finally, the supreme pleasure of holding her body in place with his and the prospect of imminently warming his cool sheets.

“Are you saying you’re trying to assess my health? In other words, play doctor with me?”

“I don’t think it’s playing doctor when I actually have the qualifications,” he argues between kisses, meandering up to her cheek, then her mouth.

“I suppose I have been acting out of character. Do you think that could be a symptom of anything?”

Phoebe pushes at his shirt and Marcus lifts one hand and then the other, slipping free of the sleeves so she can toss the garment aside. He lifts his head and cocks it.

“I’ll keep you overnight to make sure.”

He doesn’t think he’s offered her anything unusual, and yet she clasps the back of his neck and leads him through a kiss the flavour of gratitude and relief, intense desire welling just beneath. The last thing gets him harder than anything. He presses his groin to her thigh, wanting her, hating his jeans.

Reminding himself that he’s a thinking being, a centuries-old intellect, not just a creature of primal hungers like the one Domenico described, Marcus defers briefly to his brain. The verdict there is that Phoebe’s feeling reassured by his implication that he’d like her to stay the night. She’s inquisitive, attempting to decipher him since they met, holding back even more questions than she asked. Amid all her uncertainties where he’s concerned, his invitation is solid. A promise that predicts the next eight or so hours of her life. He decides he can appreciate that craving for a knowable future. By job and genetics, they’re perhaps both more comfortable with the past.

“I really can’t believe I called you,” Phoebe confesses, working on his belt. “I’m normally not—”

“Liar,” he teases. His hair’s in his eyes as he stares smugly down at her. “A woman who dresses entirely in red is definitely a woman who makes the first move.”

Now to get her out of all that red. Remembering his other guests, Marcus moves swiftly to his feet and closes the bedroom door. He jerks his thumb towards it and mumbles about a friend staying with him as he returns to Phoebe’s waiting arms. His heart doesn’t so much beat as somersault, watching her skate her dress up her legs—presumably, the better to wrap them around him. He feels flushed, imagining forgetting the clothes and just pounding into her.

“Technically,” she pants as his hand skims her inner thigh, fingers trailing along the lace hem of the slip beneath her dress, “the call was the second move.”

“Well, I’ve got to make one of the moves.”

“You really should. Unless it takes you a while to get going. Hamilton six times…”

Grinning, Marcus shakes his head at her and feels for the line of her underwear at her hip. He starts to tug, then wriggles his fingers under the band instead. As he slides his hand down to cup her, he fits his lips back over hers. Phoebe sighs shakily into his mouth as his fingertips glide through her arousal. He applies a gentle touch, tracing her with a surgeon’s finesse.

Before he can ask her which move this qualifies as, she’s opening his fly, her ring scratching against his zipper. The kiss opens up, growing harsher, teeth grabbing lips, her tongue pushing into his mouth then his into hers, until she’s gripping his cock and he’s sunk a finger inside her. He curls, she palms. Between their obscene sounds, he recalls the neat click of her typing as she brought up Lot 42 on her computer. It makes Marcus smile to himself. Then, he dives deeper into the kiss and into her, adding a finger, coaxing a broken moan from Phoebe that vibrates across his tongue.

He raises his head and her hand with it, fingers twined in his hair, because he’s honestly not sure she’s taking in enough oxygen. She might be breathing heavily, but her hand doesn’t quit, fingers encircling him as she pumps faster. Feeling his hips begin to rock as he seeks satisfaction, he realizes he’d better distract her.

“Hope my hands aren’t too cold.”

Phoebe laughs breathlessly and does stop dragging him to the edge for a moment, but then she reaches for his hips with both hands instead, pulling his jeans and underwear down.

“I think I’ve stopped noticing,” she says.

“Am I boring you?”

She rolls her eyes.

“Not like that,” Phoebe tells him. Then, “Yes. Yes, like that,” as he pulses his fingers shallowly and drags her clit in urgent circles beneath his thumb.

“You can have the first move,” he cedes. “I’m claiming credit for the first one of these.”

But he’s got to actually get her to orgasm before that claim’s really worth anything, so he continues what’s making her squirm. With his other arm, he drops from his palm to his elbow, freeing his hand to unbutton her dress from the top. Her chest is warm where he brushes his lips. He exposes more skin, then the lacy neckline of her slip. Being disappointed by too many clothes is a modern man’s insanity—what does it for Marcus are these layers, needing time to strip and reveal, this thick feeling of anticipation drawn out. He watches the dainty gold pendant bob against Phoebe’s throat as her breath hitches. Groaning, he leaves her buttons for now and grabs the hand not in his hair, interlocking their fingers and pressing the back of her hand into the mattress.

“Almost there,” he murmurs to himself, but Phoebe squeezes her eyes shut and nods rapidly in response as the nails of her other hand bite into his naked hip.

Her legs tangle around his and tense when she comes; the leverage pulls him in as her hips jerk up from the bed. He was trying not to grind his erection into the satiny fabric of her skirt, but it’s too late for that now. The contact has him kissing faster over her collarbone and up her neck, sucking where her pulse throbs until Phoebe moans, clamping even tighter around his fingers. Marcus clenches his jaw hard and rests his forehead on her neck, wondering if that was just a spike at the end of her orgasm or whether he compelled her into a second.

When her hand loosens against his, he draws back to look at her in the yellow light coming through his windows from the street.

“Not too cold,” she says, smile slack and easy from the wine and the release.

“Good.”

The word is no louder than the rustle of bedding as he withdraws his hand and braces himself over her again. He stares admiringly down at her. She just makes him feel… like he’s really glad he didn’t pawn the miniatures investigation off on Miriam.

Holding his eyes, Phoebe brings her hands to her chest. Her smile turns sly as she runs her fingers along the open front of her dress until they encounter the next fastened button. She undoes it. Marcus’s gaze leaps from her hands to her face and back. He grins, hanging his head, at her ability to do this to him. She knows too, because she doesn’t speed up. She takes her time all the way to the very last button. When she sits up to shrug out of her dress, he does as well, kneeling between her thighs as she does a little hop to whisk the skirt out from underneath her. She casts the dress aside.

Marcus takes a long breath through his nose, studying Phoebe in her short sheath of white silk. She’s wearing a bra under it—white, ribbed, unlined—but he can see her hardened nipples. While he stares, she unclasps her necklace and lowers it onto the closer of the two nightstands. The chain trickles through her fingers.

“Not the watch?” he asks with a grin when she’s touching him again, hands on his sides, moulded to his ribs.

Phoebe shrugs, barely glancing at her wrist.

“Didn’t think it was really in the way.”

He gives her a considering frown and kicks his legs out from under him, peeling his clothes off. She looks slightly shocked, mouth open in a scandalized smile as she does her best to keep her eyes on his face. Shame.

“Is that all?” he wonders.

“I guess I just like knowing what time it is.” She pauses. Goes on. “So much of the past is identified so indistinctly. Paintings or jewellery by year, some artifacts by decade with our appraisers’ best estimations. The possible timeframe only gets broader the farther back we go. Things travel through time… objects… but we lose details. Maybe it’s silly, but sometimes it amazes me that I can know the time down to the second. I think time is underappreciated.”

“Now that,” Marcus says, leaning in until their lips almost touch, “was a much more interesting answer.”

“Coming from you, I take that as a compliment.”

He’s not positive that was a compliment, but he kisses her anyway. Though he can feel her smile like she might say something else, his hopefully-charming insistence wins her over and her mouth seals to his with more certainty. He groans into it, cupping her cheek to angle her head as he deepens the kiss. He misses her hand wrapped around his cock and yanks expressively at the blanket to either side of her hips. Phoebe shifts back against his headboard, curving her legs out of the way. The second he has the covers whipped down, he catches her behind the knees and pulls her back to him, laughing. Marcus’s smile is broad as he settles between her legs. He traces the neckline of her slip, ignoring where the hem’s scrunched up above her hips, revealing her white underwear, for the moment.

“Did you think about me when you put this on this morning?” he inquires, fingering the lace.

“I didn’t know you’d be coming in. To the office,” she clarifies when he jauntily raises an eyebrow.

“Hmm. That’s not exactly what I asked.”

Marcus kisses her shoulder, heading towards her throat. He slips his hand under her ass to keep her in place as he grinds down with his hips.

“I take care in my appearance,” is all Phoebe seems willing to concede.

“And that appearance is very lovely.” He can feel her arousal through her underwear and rubs against her more precisely, dying to bury himself in her. “So very lovely,” he pants against her skin.

“You’re being very charming for someone who’s already got me half naked.”

“Oh, I never turn it off.” He flashes an enticing grin.

He can feel, and hear, her heartbeat, then his cock twitches eagerly and they’re in another scramble—the first was to make it to his bed, this is to get her out of her underwear and him inside her. She takes care of the former as he stretches to fish a condom from the drawer of the nightstand. If she asked, he would say truthfully that he was thinking about her this morning. The way he pleased and flustered her when they met by suggesting she should be the one in charge of the auction house was in his mind when he ventured to the shop, guiding his hand as he tossed the box of condoms into his basket alongside the coffee creamer and eggs he was bringing back to Sophie and Nate for breakfast. The thrill for the rest of them might have been the discovery of Matthew and Diana’s miniatures; the thrill for Marcus was doing everything he could to provoke a smile out of Phoebe Taylor.

Pressing inside her, he inches the white slip up her stomach with every gasp. Her fingers grip the back of his neck, her eyelids lowered, her parted lips bumping his as they share air. Marcus thrusts shallowly once he’s all the way in and Phoebe shifts her hips, widens her legs; they adapt to each other.

His hands caress her skin more insatiably the more of it he bares. He can feel the goosebumps under his fingertips, unable to count them because she’s rocking her hips with his, driving him deeper. Phoebe intervenes with the slip, stripping it off over her head, then her hands slap to his back and they kiss hard as he bucks into her. Marcus absorbs her high whimpers, refusing to break the kiss. Fuck, she’s incredibly slick around him and he badly wants this to be as good for her as it is for him. He hooks his arm beneath her thigh and folds it up. The moan that leaves Phoebe is almost enough to stand even his heavy, floppy hair on end.

He dips his head, tugging at her nipple through her thin bra. He can feel her wristwatch against the back of his neck as her fingers comb into his hair. Not everything’s been removed; so many pieces of her. She thinks he’s evasive and mysterious, but he’s sure he doesn’t know the half of it with her, and that excites him. Phoebe in his bed excites him. He lets her pull him back into a messy kiss and allows his eyelids to flutter open ever-so-slightly, stealing glimpses of her. This room is full of mirrors, but most are hung just a little too high on purpose because it isn’t really his reflection Marcus wants. He doesn’t need his own face looking back at him, he doesn’t need two nightstands for all his shit.

Breathing harshly through his nose, he catches the wine they drank downstairs, her gin at dinner. There’s the scent of night air and the faint hint of the perfume she must have put on this morning. He smelled it at her office earlier, but at the time it seemed a little too—as Phoebe defined their first kiss—forward to ask if that was for his benefit, like the later uncovered silk slip. She’s as irresistible when experienced through this sense as any other.

“F-faster,” she directs, bowing her body against his, and he is happy to oblige. He loves her sweat. He’d be perspiring himself, if he weren’t what he is.

The present rides him as he moves quickly in and out of her. This is fast, him and her, for something he thinks is more than a hookup. Two days to get them from his cold hands to her heat under and around him. One dinner, one walk, one call, a multitude of kisses. He is so, so into her.

His hand finds and grasps her hip, heaving her up to stroke inside her differently while pinning her thigh to her stomach. She cries out and he knows he’s got her.

“Good god, Phoebe,” Marcus breathes into her ear.

She shudders and shakes, clenching around his cock. He switches to long strokes as she climaxes, powering through them, trying to last if only to extend the present, here to play time’s own game. All of his seconds are Phoebe sighing and catching her breath and being so vibrantly human beneath him. He finally finishes with one of her hands kneading his shoulder, the other on his cheek. The orgasm ripples through him, muscles taut as his hips snap to hers and push until he’s empty.

He almost doesn’t want to pull away, but he’s being stupid. He swaggers unhurriedly over to the bin to chuck the condom, smirking back at Phoebe, who he’s caught watching his ass, as he thought she would be. She rolls her eyes with a certain fondness while she takes the liberty of rearranging the pillows that are propping her up.

“You know what would be great right now?” Marcus asks as he rejoins her.

“What’s that?”

He waits until she’s looking at him dead on before he grins.

“A little Duran Duran.”

#my writing #A Discovery of Witches #ADoW #Phoebe Taylor #Marcus Whitmore #Marcus x Phoebe

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cosmic-coyote7 · 3 years

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Speed Write suggestions via Twitter

[ Lukanette - Mari wants Luka to paint her nails. :3 ]

(First ever Lukanette fic for me. I'm usually writing 100% lovesquare fics. ^^)

~♡~☆~♡~☆

Luka watched his girlfriend with amusement and affection as she laid out every single bottle of nail polish she owned across his bed and examined each one, muttering to herself about color coordination and tones.

It made him grateful he just wore black.

But Marinette was an artist like him, if a different kind. Fashion and outfit coordination meant everything to her, so he was willing to patiently sit back with his guitar and wait for her to choose which colors she wanted her nails to be.

“Why did you ask me to paint your nails again?” he inquired as he strummed his fingers over the strings before taking one of his many guitar picks off the wall. Marinette had taken his favorite one, but he was glad she had it.

Marinette shrugged as she picked up a peach shade and held it against her shirt sleeve. “You paint yours so smoothly. I get… clumsy,” she mumbled the last word and put the polish back down in favor of something darker.

Luka smiled and began playing some notes, his fingers expertly moving in a way that was now instinctual for him. “Let me guess,” he smirked. “You’ve spilled your fair share of polishes?”

She pursed her lips, not wanting to admit it. Or relive it. “Maybe,” she said quickly then grabbed a deep purple that reminded him of Juleka’s style. She began the same process of muttering about what colors would go with it, and he knew she was avoiding talking about her messes.

He let it go and laid back, crossing his long legs at the ankles and strumming again. He began playing a slow and pleasant tone. He noticed Marinette absently began to relax and move her foot in time with the rhythm. Unbeknownst to her, he had written this song for her. The lyrics were still a long way off, but he liked this melody. And so did Marinette.

“This one!” she cried triumphantly, holding up… black?

That was the last thing he was expecting.

He blinked at her, and she smiled as she dropped down beside him, a proud smile on her face.

“I didn’t take you for darker shades,” Luka admitted as he put his guitar aside and sat cross-legged across from her.

She giggled. “Well, I can maybe add patterns to my ring finger or something.” She paused and looked up at him as he shook the bottle and got ready to start. “I wanted to match you for a little while.”

He looked up at her and smiled, his heart fluttering pleasantly. They had only been dating a couple of weeks, and they had honestly been the happiest he remembered feeling in a while, but he knew he was in love with her. He didn’t want to ruin things by admitting that to her this early, though.

“I would love to match,” he said sincerely. “But I also want you to express yourself, so…” he reached around her and grabbed a light pink he knew she was fond of. “Let me put the designs on for you.”

Marinette beamed and nodded, and he set to work. His hand tingled in hers as he held it and applied the polish with careful strokes. It was easier painting some else’s nails, and he had been doing his own and Juleka’s since they were little.

After he was done with the base coats for both hands, he applied a second layer then grabbed the pink. He took a smaller detail brush from Marinette to make the designs. When he asked her what she wanted, she smiled softly at him and answered, “Surprise me.”

He smirked and whispered, “Close your eyes and no peeking.”

She pouted for a split second then smiled and closed her eyes. “You better not draw something dumb like a poop emoji or something.”

Luka laughed. “I promise you’ll like these.” He was careful and even rubbed off his mistakes because he wanted it to be as neat as possible. He did her right hand, holding her ring finger carefully in his, and then moved to the left.

When he was done, he put the cap back on the polish and smiled. “You can open your eyes now.”

She did as he said and gasped when she saw her nails. “Luka! They’re so cute!”

On her left hand was a very carefully made cherry blossom bloom with little dots around it. He had used her shirt for a reference and was fairly pleased with the results. On her right hand were carefully drawn musical notes.

“A little of you and a little of me,” he said, smiling as she squealed and wiggled. She made to throw her arms around him, but he grabbed her forearms with wide eyes and said, “NO!” a little louder than he meant to.

She looked heartbroken, so he said quickly, “Sorry! I just meant… don’t ruin my hard work, Mari.” He pretended to pout.

Marinette blinked then burst into laughter, her hurt forgotten. “Thank you for painting me special nails. She frowned at her still wet nails then placed her hands carefully on the mattress with her fingers pointed up to avoid smudging.

He wondered what she was up to until she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. The pleasant thrum of his heart that increased whenever she was around, took up into a happy beat that was more comparable to drums. But it didn’t matter because the feeling made him happy.

She made him happy.

#mlb fanfic #miraculous fanfic #miraculous ladybug #lukanette #speedwrite

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 years

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you’re so creepy | part ii | myg ver

Every campus has one. You know - the resident campus creepy girl. This campus has seven. All from in the boys’ POV.

summary: Yoongi helped his creepy girl get through her piano midterm, hooray! But uh... he’s not great at Chemistry. Fortunately for him, someone he knows is the Chemistry TA.

warnings: non-idol!BTS - university!BTS; 18+ for language, (a tiny bit of) suggestive language; Yoongi’s POV

part i

“It’s the dehydration method. That means you’re trying to remove water. Hydrogen from here, hydroxide from here…”

“… Ah.”

Silence.

“I think I’m going to fail my Chemistry midterm.”

She placed her hand on her forehead. A single silver ring was on her thumb. He noticed her nails were painted black with red blood drips.

“I gotta say, piano prodigy, I did not think you were going to be this shit at Chemistry.”

There were in an empty lecture hall. The professor had said earlier in the week that if anyone needed help, they could attend office hours at this time. Yoongi, after reviewing his Chemistry grade, showed up. He was quite surprised when he saw her sitting there waiting. Something about the other TA being busy – “As in, he’s hungover from last night.” “… Last night was Tuesday.” “It be like that sometimes.” – and he learned she was the TA for the morning lecture.

Min Yoongi sort of wished he had registered for the morning lecture now.

She moved her coffee and took his notes, placing them next to her. The cup had a label on it with the flavor and the details of the order – cream only, no sugar. Yoongi furrowed his brow at it. He sensed her rummaging through her bag and diverted his attention from the cup. Six black studs on each ear gleamed in the overhead light. As usual, silver hoop, black bat as the lobe earrings. She took the colored pens from her pencil case and began to draw a diagram, arrows in various colors. Lower lip trapped between her teeth, clicking her tongue. Black lipstick, winged eyeliner. Messy ponytail, with her long bangs hanging on each side of her face. Today she was wearing a horror movie sweatshirt that looked like it had been in a horror movie itself and tight black jeans with neon green skeleton hands going up one leg.

Yoongi wondered where people found these clothes. Even in all black, her aesthetic stood out.

“Does this help?” she said suddenly, turning the page back around. She explained the steps in detail, indicating what each molecule was doing with specific colors. Yoongi’s brow furrowed at the chemical equation. It seemed to be clearer now.

“You have been drawing too many arrows in your steps and confusing yourself,” she continued, pointing to his notes. “I know it’s annoying, but you should write out each small step so you can understand it better later. It will make your math more accurate too.”

“… Why can’t science be an elective?”

“Because without science you can’t understand the world, and if you can’t understand the world, you go drinking on a Tuesday night.”

Yoongi rubbed his temples and took the notes. He turned to his practice sheet and began scrawling, trying to keep his arrows neat. She sipped her coffee, waiting patiently. It wasn’t really his nature, but it did help speed things up since he wasn’t questioning every little thing. When he was done, he gave her the page and she nodded, giving him a thumbs up.

“I mean, your writing is awful, but I could grade this, so it’s fine.”

He frowned. “The professor’s writing is worse.”

She laughed, raspy and thin. “Well, I grade the tests, so the one you have to appease is me.”

They sat there in silence for a short second. Yoongi cleared his throat.

“How was your piano midterm?”

She blinked at him. “He posts the grades outside his door. You can look if you want.” She smirked at him, rolling her eyes. “You’re number one, as usual. Did you want congratulations?”

“Actually, I wanted to tell you good job for ranking at number seven.”

She paused, her teasing expression falling. “… Oh. Uh… number seven isn’t that impressive.” Her cheeks flushed pink and she looked away, taking a long sip from her coffee.

“I’m proud of you.”

She coughed, hitting her chest lightly. “Er… thanks, dad.”

The side of his lips curved upwards. She noticed and froze, giving him a weird look. Her coffee cup had a black imprint on it. Yoongi remembered going to the bathroom that day, surprised at the traces of black lipstick. It hadn’t been that long of a kiss… or maybe it had?

“I thought you would act weirder around me,” she remarked calmly, placing her paper cup back on the table.

Yoongi blinked slowly. “Why?”

She shrugged. “I dunno, I randomly kissed you. Normal people would be kinda weird about it.”

Yoongi frowned. There was a bitterness to her voice, the kind that reminded him of the last dregs of coffee grounds that somehow made it to the bottom. His stomach had a funny feeling all of a sudden. It had been a weird experience, sure, but not unpleasant. Yoongi shrugged.

“Why’d you do it?”

“I always thought you were hot.”

Her eyes shifted to him. A slow smile grew on her face. Yoongi just stared at her with wide eyes, completely dumbstruck. He thought he was straightforward. She shrugged, grabbing her pencil case and tucking her colored pens into it.

“I mean, I get it. I’m kinda cooky. Not your type.”

Yoongi sputtered. “N-no, it’s just…” Embarrassment flooded his entire system. He felt like he was short circuiting. “N-no one has ever told me that I’m attractive. Like, uh… that.”

She raised her eyebrows, placing her pencil case in her backpack. “Why not? You have a cute face, dress pretty well…” Her hand was on her backpack strap, slinging it over her shoulder casually. “Nice legs.” He blinked at his legs as if he just realized he had them. “And we know how talented your hands are, so…”

Now Yoongi knew. He was actually one with a tomato.

“Sounds like a great formula to me.”

The chair scraped against the ground and she stood up, cocky grin on her face.

“Let’s see if you pass your midterm, and then maybe we’ll go on a date.”

And then she sauntered off.

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #suga x reader #bts drabble #yoongi scenarios #suga scenarios #yoongi fluff

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mulderist · 3 years

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Wicked Game

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 // Read on A03

Washington, D.C - 1948. Fox Mulder is a detective on the top vice unit; scandal, corruption, and lies come with the territory. He is forced to investigate a fellow officer and finds the lies go much deeper than the truth.

tagging @today-in-fic

CHAPTER 5

The phone rang three times before she answered. My jaw ached as I tried to mask the slur in my voice when I told her who was calling. I realized it was a long shot ringing her number but I needed something to get my head on straight. I told her I was in Georgetown and as luck would have it she did not have a shift at the hospital that evening. She accepted my invitation to have a drink. I confirmed her address and I said I would wait outside the building to meet her, adding to look for the forlorn gentleman with a grey fedora. We disconnected and I exited the booth then walked to the curb to hail a cab.

Scully’s apartment building was tucked into a quiet tree-lined block on Q Street. In a town built on history this neighborhood dripped vintage charm with neat colonial rowhouses and brick sidewalks. I paced a slow line in front of the staircase then stretched a foot on the bottom step. The sound of a door opening and heel clicks on brickwork caught my attention. There she was. A vision in a short-sleeved olive green sweater with a high neck, wide-leg trousers gave way to dark t-strap shoes that peeked out from under her pant cuffs. Her ginger-red hair was pinned up halfway and decorated with a small flower. I straightened up and tried to smile as she landed on the last step.

“God, what happened to you?” she questioned before I could even greet her properly.

“And hello to you too.” I replied.

“Oh, your cheek,” Scully frowned, “This reminds me of when we first met.” She inspected my face without laying a finger on me. I tipped back my hat slightly so she could get a better look. In the afternoon sun her eyes processed a diagnosis and she reached out a caring hand to touch my jawline but withdrew it quickly. Fingers formed a loose fist instead as her hand dropped slowly towards her hip. I cleared my throat.

“Serves me right for interrupting someone’s lunch, huh?”

“Must have been someone important for them to leave a mark like that,” Scully said, stepping back and adjusting her handbag. I shrugged then said,

“No, just me being a nosy cop.” I found myself staring as she smiled.

“So now that we’re here, where are we off to?”

“There’s a little place I visit when I’m in the neighborhood.” I slipped my hands in my pockets and gestured with a nod down the block. She joined me at my side and we strolled for a few silent moments. Her presence helped to mute the extra noise in my head. Though with each intersection we crossed I was still checking my corners, making sure we weren’t being followed. After the little scene I caused at the restaurant my guard was up. I knew I could never be too comfortable with my surroundings and I certainly didn’t want to put her in danger.

We walked farther down Q street and crossed over to 33rd to a small bar named The Blue Note. I opened the door for her and followed inside. It was your standard set-up with a small stage on the side arranged for a jazz combo. Too early for a gig, so the jukebox in the corner played the matinee performance. Regalia from the university littered the walls but in a more dignified fashion, like the proprietor was trying to distance the establishment from looking like a run-of-the-mill college bar. Still, it was dark, smoky, and my kind of familiar. Only a couple of bar flies had landed to start their day-drinking. I ushered her through a fresh haze of cigarette smoke to an empty spot at the far end of the bar. She took a seat and I adjusted my barstool, sitting close but not too close. Scully caught the attention of the stout bartender.

“I’d like a vodka tonic and my friend here will have?”

“Whiskey.”

The man nodded and scuttled back to fix our drinks. I put my fedora on the bar and ran a hand through my hair.

“Can you tell me about this case you’re working on?” Scully asked as she placed her handbag in her lap. I thought about how much I wanted to divulge so I kept the names and places to a minimum.

“It involves a drug ring, fairly standard for the vice unit. However the fly in the ointment is that it also involves an investigation into my partner.”

“Wait, the one who was buried at Arlington?”

“The very same,” I answered as the bartender delivered two short glasses. I grasped the drink and raised it, she mimicked the motion. “Cheers,” I said before taking a long sip and swirling the ice cube around. Scully sampled her drink as well and I continued.

“The papers painted it that he was killed in the line of duty. Now, I was there that night. It was the same night I got a hot lead kiss on the shoulder and I think my partner was bumped off in a deal that went sour.”

“Your partner was a hophead?” she asked as she twisted the bottom of her glass on the bar napkin.

“I didn’t suspect he was a hophead,” I said after I downed the last of my whiskey, “but the medical examiner ordered blood work that confirmed he was sky high.”

“Did you see who shot at you?” she asked after a beat, tracing a fingertip along the edge of the highball.

“No, but we did get a match on the weapon. So all I need to do is take him in .”

“Let me guess, that’s who gave you the bruise.”

“Very perceptive Scully. It was one of his goons actually.” I said as I rubbed my left cheek and glanced reflexively over my shoulder. She held her glass close to her lips and thought for a moment before taking another sip to finish it off. Scully pressed her lips together and focused on her now empty glass. I caught the change in music from the jukebox; a heavy piano piece that fit the tone in our little corner of the bar. I flagged the bartender and ordered another round. She was hesitant at first on the refill but I guess she didn’t mind my company and decided to stick around. Time seemed to slow to a halt, dripped down like molasses on a winter day.

“Enough about me and the DCPD, I want to know your story.”

“My story, Mulder? I don’t think I’m as interesting as all that,” Scully said as she glanced at her hands, admiring the tidy red varnish on the nails.

“Try me,” I replied as our second round arrived and my attention was now only on her.

“Let’s see...you already know I’m a nurse,” she began with a gesture, “I’ve been one since before the war. Schooling was no cost and once the conflict started I opted to stay home in Maryland to fill the nursing shortage. My brothers had gone through the gauntlet at the naval academy and were sent to San Diego then the South Pacific respectively. It would have broken my mother’s heart if I joined up and got shipped off too” She paused and took a drink. “My sister and mother stayed in Annapolis but in ‘45 I headed to Washington to continue with medicine. There was more I wanted to learn and more ways I felt I could help.”

“And that’s how you ended up in Georgetown?”

She nodded and softly exhaled.

“After I buried my father, I buried myself in studies, work, and other hobbies. I figured if I kept myself busy enough I wouldn’t have time to think about the loss.” Her shoulders shrugged and she absentmindedly toyed with a strand of hair then swept it behind her ear.

“Any travel in that time?” I asked, hoping she had an answer. I was shit at small talk when I wasn’t using my badge.

“California after the war ended to see my brother Bill and his family for Christmas, then last year I took the train up to New England for a change of scenery.”

“Ah, I’m familiar with that area. My parents live on Martha’s Vineyard.”

“It’s really lovely. I was fortunate to visit in the fall.” A hint of a smile crossed her lips as she recalled the memory. A pleasant silence then fell between us. More small talk followed, less personal this go around. Filler subjects like the weather and sports weaved their way into conversation. I was pleased to learn she was a baseball fan and was hoping for a better season than last year.

The bar was getting more clientele and as much as I wanted to stay and extend my friendship with Mr Jack Daniels, I figured we should make it last call. I paid our tab and escorted Scully outside, placing a featherweight touch on her shoulder as I guided her through the open door. The air felt cool as the sun hid behind passing clouds, setting up for another storm. She thanked me for the drinks and though she was a captain’s daughter who could certainly hold her liquor, I offered to walk her home.

As we turned the corner and walked back up the block I still felt that we weren’t alone. I kept a close stride next to Scully as we neared her building. She ascended the steps and I joined her at the door. This time her hand found my cheek.

“I hope to see you again,” she said as she gently stroked my jawline, “But next time without any occupational damage.”

“Can’t make any promises, doll,” I said moving closer, feeling her fingers twitch, catching a flutter of her eyelashes as she exhaled. My gaze was soft, hypnotized by her features. She grazed the stubble on my skin then Scully raised her chin and placed a soft sweet kiss on my injured cheek.

“Take care of yourself, detective.”

Through the narrow pane of glass on the building’s door I watched her walk up the stairs, she looked back over her shoulder giving me a final flash of that flower nestled against her red hair. As I turned and walked down the steps I noticed a car parked across the street and a man with a sharp suit and glasses leaning against the side.

“Are you following me?” I called out once I was on the sidewalk, my hand on the butt of my weapon.

“This is your surveillance detail?” Skinner questioned.

“Chivalry isn’t dead yet, Captain.”

“Something’s come up. Get in,” Skinner said as he motioned to the car. I walked around the front of the cruiser and opened the passenger door joining him inside.

“I heard about your incident with Carlo Lodi today.”

“Word travels fast.”

“You’re damn right it does, Mulder. This city is more connected than ever. I had a conversation with our friend Alex Krycek when he returned the squad car you lent him. Seems that he was privy to information regarding a Vincenti heroin shipment tonight.”

“Ha! What did you have to trade for that info?” I asked. He tensed his jaw then said,

“Continued protection. It appears he’s been sitting on this since we first interrogated him.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“There will be a boat arriving at the Navy Yard tonight. Small crew. They are going to make a transfer to one of the warehouses, but it’s up to you to find how they’re moving the shipment from there.”

I took a moment to process the details of my assignment.

“Will I have back-up?”

“Via radio. Do not engage after you make the mark. Follow standard tailing procedure.”

“If you’re going to send me on a suicide mission, can you at least drop me off in Alexandria. I could use a shower and something to eat.” Skinner gave me a sideways glance and turned the key in the ignition, bringing life to the cruiser. He shifted into gear and we were on our way back across the Potomac.

#i wrote this #historical au #mulder pov #xf fanfic #my fic #noir fiction #wip

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foiblepnoteworthy · 3 years

Photo

[ID 4 images. First is of Jon and his Nan holding hands and walking, then sitting together both looking away. Second is of Jon and Gertrude, backs to eath other bit watching each other from across the room. Third is of Jon and Gerry painting each others nails. Fourth is adult Jon in a large pink cardigan.

Extended ID under the cut. I recommend that you check it out even if you don’t want to read the full analysis and reasoning, as it points out the parts of the drawings that mean things, if that’s what you’re into yanno.]

I am once again talking about @polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup’s fic nature has taught her creatures to hate bc i am on a crusade to get everyone to read it (i do not know how i will accomplish this but i shall).

Anyway latest chapter had a few lines that made me feel things and a few lines that made me think things and then i started thinking about how i design Jon’s outfits for this au again and now i have to talk about it a bit under the cut.

Okay, so - first up i made a lil’ mistake with the first drawing - which was inspired by the line, ‘”They smell like home”’ in reference to Jon smoking cigarettes (from chapter 9). Naturally my first thought was his Nan, which is what inspired the above drawing, until I re-reread chapter 2 today and noticed the line ‘Nan hates smoking’, which rather suggests she wasn’t the person Jon was referencing.

This is fascinating because, up until now, I had assumed that all of Jon’s wishes to ‘go home’ were wished to see his Nan. Clearly this isn’t the case when it comes to the cigarettes. However, later in the new chapter there came a reference to my canon-smoking dead gay goth son, Gerry. I have concluded that Jon has changed his definition of home to Gerry at some point.

In a way I can’t quite articulate, I feel that there is a connection between Jon’s starving chain-smoking, his only connection between his home and his friend, and the line ‘”I’m more like me, like this”’ (in reference to his statement starvation). With the way smokers will often smoke to reduce their appetite, I think that smoking serves as a pseudo-anchor for him; that by attaching himself to Gerry as much as he can, he is trying to hold onto an identity he can barely recognise.

The point of these drawings was to try to analyse Jon’s identity and self-expression. Naturally, how Jon presents himself is something I think about a lot in relation to this series because if i didn’t i would never get anything done. So far there haven’t been many canon descriptions of him, but the smaller details paint an interesting picture, and the missing gaps are just a playground for me I guess.

Aside form references to how exhausted he looks in general, the first description of Jon, as i recall, came from Gertrude, describing Jon after what I believe was a few years under Elias’/Wright’s ‘care’. She mentioned his ‘short neat hair’ and his ‘clean white shirt’, (or something to that effect), which did not match the Jon I was more familiar with - with tiredness sagging his shoulders and the bags under his eyes; and feminine clothing and hair - but it did match Elias rather well. Elias would never have allowed Jon to look like anything other than his model son, a shrunken mirror image, so the long hair had to go.

Gertrude, I don’t think, was ever unkind to Jon. He felt her eyes on him often, and their conversations were never more or less than cordial words between strangers, but they spent years in each others company, shackled to the same rooms and man and god. Her little kitten knick-knack still sits in pride of place on his/her/their desk, and Jon never could clear out the spare clothes that smelled of burning buildings and insulted the dress code.

During the brief months or years he was allowed Gerry’s company, Jon would naturally have picked up on the other kid’s famous talent for self-expression. At this point he began to re-grow his hair out, tying it up in a bun in an imitation of his old style; of how his Nan wore it. Gerry wore skirts for their gender and Jon wore his for his Nan (putting a pin in the gender thing for a spare day that would never come). Gerry walked around in a cloud of rebellious smoke, sheltering Jon under their wing and smiles, and when they were gone Jon puffed out a cloud of lonely fog in an imitation of their company.

Extended ID

[ID 4 images in a rough wavy chalky style. This style doesn’t lend itself well to close detail, so no faces are rendered. In all drawings Jon is depicted with brown skin and dark hair.

First is of Jon and his Nan. There are two drawings in this image, first the two of them walking together, holding hands and looking away from each other. Jon is looking at his book, which has a red cover and cream pages, and Nan is smoking a cream cigarette with a glowing red end.

Their outfits are matching: Jon’s trousers and Nan’s blouse are both a pale blue; and Jon’s top and Nan’s floor length skirt are red-pink. Nan’s colour palette is more washed out than Jon’s, but the resemblance is clear. They both have long hair up in buns and where their hand link they blend together seamlessly.

The background for the first image is pale, but gets darker going down the image (think ‘colour of the sky’). In the second part of this drawing Jon and Nan both sit on the floor, back to back. Nan is curled up tight, her face buried in a book; her shoulders are tense, up to her ears. Jon sits turned away from the viewer, a lit cigarette in his hand, the slump of his shoulders and the limp hand signifying defeat. Once again their colours and hair match each other.

In both of these images the signature is in bright red, encouraging the viewer to look at the shared cigarette and book, the link and the downfall.

The second image shows Jon and Gertrude. Gertrude has short grey hair in a perm, and wears a pale blouse and long purple skirt. She is surrounded by vague smoke. Jon wears pressed slacks and a neat buttoned-up shirt, and his hair is short and neatly combed. A spider hangs, unnoticed, from his elbow. They’re both turned away from each other, a statement in hand, each at a three-quarter angle. The light source is between them, meaning that the farthest side of each of their faces is in shadow. In that shadow shines a green eye, which watches the other.

The third image shows Jon and Gerry together, sat on the floor next to some empty shelves. Gerry is dressed in almost all black, with a black trench coat and skirt and long black-brown hair. They also wear silver piercings, fishnets and a pink crop top. Their skin is pale. In one hand they hold a purple nail polish brush, and in the other they hold Jon’s hand. A lit cigarette hangs between their lips, smoke filling the upper quarter of the image.

Jon sits against the wall. He wears a pinkish skirt an blue blouse, similar to his Nan’s clothes in the first images. The sides of his dark hair hangs to his chin, while the top is help up in a small bun, which is close to collapsing. The hand that Gerry isn’t holding is wrapped around his knees, which are pulled up to his chest. He leans forwards, intent on Gerry.

On the shelf next to them there are three bottles of nail polish. On the floor beside them are their shoes - Jon’s neat brown oxfords and Gerry’s chunky steel-toed platforms - and a red and cream packet of cigarettes.

They are turned towards each other, something tender in the faceless looks they give each other, in the gentle hold Gerry has on Jon’s hand with it’s freshly painted purple nails.

The fourth image shows Jon on his own. His hair is up in a bun, and he wears a long red skirt. He wears a long pink cardigan that used to belong to Gertrude, half off the shoulder as though it doesn’t matter .He has platform heels, purple painted nails, a metal band t-shirt and a cigarette in his mouth.

#wow this rambled a lot huh #i should get a proper art tag huh #tma #fic rec #fanart #ill probably come back to clean up my rambles #probably #maybe #i didnt think i would get this done so quickly #ive been drawing for like 9 hrs today my hand is so sore

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