#he absolutely is the type to run elbows w higher ups
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Playing Fair [1/1]
For Day 3 of @pen-and-ink-week-2020! Prompt: precious. This is what I call ‘smut adjacent’ in that there’s nothing outright filthy here but there are certain insinuations so you probably don’t want this open around your boss or your nan, capiche? Excellent. Onward!
There isn’t often time for this.
Not between rescues and royal premieres, not with four brothers and two fathers and a dog and a Parker lingering around every corner and threatening to pop, fully formed and wide eyed, from any given comm unit at any given moment.
They’re used to -- well. Making the most of the odd moments given to them, that’s all. And it isn’t that she’s complaining, not at all, not for a moment, but although contorting herself in the back of a Thunderbird at 60 fathoms deep brings its own particular thrill, there’s really something to be said for a very large bed with a very soft duvet and the company of a very willing man with a very willing mouth.
Too willing, possibly.
“I didn’t think you were being literal.”
Gordon’s mouth curls into a grin, and he nips at the skin of her ankle. She jumps, shoving at his shoulder with the foot he isn’t holding.
“I’m a very literal kinda guy.” He shifts infinitesimally higher, drops another open mouthed kiss to the inside of her calf. “Plus, I’ve been waiting like -- forever to do this, okay? Let me work.”
Penelope groans and throws her arm over her face. “You’ve been waiting forever. To kiss my leg.”
“Not just your leg.”
She huffs into her elbow, wraps her free leg around his shoulders and digs her heel in.
“You genuinely intend to kiss me all over? Won’t that get tiresome.”
He grins up at her, flutters his lashes like the absolute terror that he is. “Oh I think I can handle it.”
“I didn’t mean for you.”
“Aw.” He pouts, and she digs her heel in harder. “Is her Ladyship not getting her own way?”
"Don't make me beg. I won't do it you know."
She can feel his laugh chase the tip of his tongue along the hollow behind her knee. "Oh really?"
"Oh really. Countless nefarious types have tried, darling."
He shifts his weight, his hand at her hip, and she tucks her arm behind her head. Glares down at him as he rests his chin on her thigh and flutters his eyelashes at her.
"Bet they're not as nefarious as me."
"I shall get up and leave in a minute."
Gordon pouts, drops his cheek against her hip bone and walks his fingers up until she's practically shaking with frustrated desire and just sheer frustration.
"Aw don't spoil my fun, Pen. Look --" He jumps up, dropping her leg as he does so, and leans forward to rest his fingertips against her ribs. She pouts back at him, but his grin only gets wider. “I can stop?”
“I didn’t say -- hey!” She squirms as he runs his nails lightly over the dip of her waist. “Oh! No, that’s unfair you know I’m ticklish!”
“Do I?” He stops, catching hold of a flailing arm, and presses a kiss to the inside of her elbow. “See, I don’t know that I did know that. Was it in the papers? An expose on Lady Penelope’s deepest, darkest secrets?”
She huffs, settling back into the mattress as he kisses down her forearm. “Hardly.”
“Good.” He pauses his ministrations to turn her hand palm up in his own, and traces her life line with the tip of his ring finger. “Know why?”
He runs his finger around her palm in little circles, eyebrows drawn tight as though the action requires every ounce of his concentration and her breath catches in her throat.
“Not the foggiest,” she murmurs as his mouth follows his fingers and creeps up toward the thin skin of her wrist. “Shall you tell me, or am I to suffer this torture in silence?”
His laugh is a soft breeze across sensitive skin. “You think this is torture?”
“I may be being facetious.”
“I may not know what that means.”
“Gordon.”
“Yes?” The kiss he drops to her wrist is hot and open mouthed, the hint of tongue a cruel little tease that she would protest if she could.
“What are you doing this for?”
He shrugs one shoulder before dropping her wrist to nose at her collarbone.
“Do you know when I fell in love with you?”
“Not precisely.” His teeth graze the hollow of her throat and she digs her heel in tighter.
“Me neither.” It’s a confession made against the rise of her breast, chased by the tip of a tongue against sensitive flesh. “Only -- god. God, Penny. Do you have any idea how long I’ve --”
He groans against her belly button as she winds her hand into his hair. A little victory.
“You’ve got a freckle.” He rubs the pad of his thumb against the edge of her hip bone. “Right here. Did you know?”
She says nothing, only shakes her head, because he’s kissing her with purpose now, hands coming up under her knees and pushing them apart, breath hot against damp skin, and she tightens her grip until she feels him shudder.
“God but you’re perfect.” It’s a whisper, less than that, something she feels more than hears, her blood hot and his mouth hotter. And she doesn’t want to ask -- not now, not when he’s finally -- finally --
The bastard looks up, grins.
That bastard.
“W-what are you doing?”
“I’m not finished yet.” He’s grinning up at her like the cat that got the cream, calloused fingers stroking the ticklish spots behind her knees. “Are you ticklish here too? You look kinda unhappy, should I stop? Maybe here?” He traces his fingers up, up, only to stop to draw patterns into the juncture of hip and thigh. “What do you think?”
Penelope takes a deep breath. Smiles.
“I think you’ve forgotten something.”
“Oh?” He taps his lips, smug and sweetly unsuspecting. “I can’t possibly --”
It’s easy. Only a twist, the arch of a back, the flinging of her weight to one side and then -- yes,perfect. Gordon blinks up at her, with eyes blown wide with lust and surprise, as she sits on his chest, her knees now pinning his arms to his sides and her smile promising a vengeance that oh, she is going to enjoy.
“Turnabout is fair play.”
#thunderbirds are go#thunderbirds#gordon tracy#penelope creighton ward#pen&inkweek2020#clare vs writers block
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Nicholas x Tentacles : For Research
as requested by @catastrophicur
fantasy verse + DP / sounding / throat fuckin’ / yes he’s a virgin / no its not written well, you know what, just keep walking, don’t look here
Nicholas scampered down the halls with the type of excitement that had nearly everyone he passed looking nervously behind. Short cleric navigated past clergy with ease, slipping between droves of prayer walks that ended in disapproving scowls and heads shaking in disappointment. Not that he noticed, because he got the aFTernOOn oFF~ For research. Which terrified everyone.
Due to prior mishaps in the dorms, Nicholas was given his own room well away from the rest of the populace just in case he summoned another undead bear or 30ft snake that he still couldn’t find or the time when gravity reversed itself in the mess hall or-- needless to say, when half the clerics came down with a curse that made them dance nearly to death and the other half frozen in time reliving their trauma in a void-like hellscape, he was banished asked to move his studies far far away and to notify the higher ups when he was going to be doing something potentially dismal so they could avoid it.
So when the final piece of his spell finally arrived in the mail, he was beside himself running through the gardens to get to the abandoned wing of the church where he had been allowed to make camp. Dreary and a bit dusty, the large heavy door requires small thing’s whole body to push against and when he finally slips through, it opens up into a massive study. Books covered the walls and laid in haphazard stacks along the floor, papers spilling with ancient languages and symbols, candles and floating colorful orbs illuminating intricate gold writings, bones, potions, skulls, vials, gems, taxidermy rabbit, a mobile of the solar system, a mobile of a different solar system -- everywhere one looked there was something new and potentially dangerous lurking about.
His desk held a multitude of messy papers and ink pots filled with ink that shifted colors (one that looks suspiciously like blood), and a single thick heavy book. It was the same size if not wider than the cleric himself and it takes a strained heave to lift the cover before fingers rushed to find a particular page.
There.
It only takes him minutes to shuffle about his room, moving stacks of things out of the way to clear space on the floor and hunting down the bits and pieces of spell components that involved ink, a single bit of bone, chalk, and whatever else. The item he had been waiting for came in the shape of a small crystal pendant. Some easily made magicked trinket that produced as manny mirrors as the holder desired in any shape or size. The spell had a tiny hand written note on the side that strongly suggested its use and Nicholas wasn’t entirely sure why or how this aided in the spell, but mirrors had their own magical properties that he’d mentally note to delve into. Tall and rectangular, he follows the note’s directions until the space he’s made is surrounded by them floating delicately at the perimeter with gaps enough he can slip through. He takes a moment to proudly smile at himself in the corner of one and then another few minutes to apprehensively stare at the complicated chalk circle he’s made on the floor, wondering if it was... too big. He wanted to summon tentacles, not the whole tentacle monster. Or did he??
There was a moment of doubt after everything was set up, last thing needed was the single drop of blood and ink to circle’s center, when his own eyes catch himself in a reflection.
“Am I being too nasty for this?”
Reflection shakes its head, of course not. It’s for fun. For research!
“Getting a handy by a tentacle for... research?”
You’re testing old magic that just happens to have the use of a few wiggly arms.
“And if it doesn’t listen...?”
Reflection chants back at him for research! for research! before short human is thoroughly convinced. For research.
Ink and blood fall with a deafening plop to its center, sleeves of thickly layered robes pushed up as far as they can so pale palms could press into the floor at circle’s sides, feeling the magic pulsate through limbs until incantation leaves the room silent. Chalk glows warmly, then dies out. The creaking groans of the walls and wood floor halting and little thing blinks, candle light flickering making the shadows dance and for a moment -- nothing happens. “WHAT” Disappointed bark has Nicholas flopping backwards and then forwards again to peer into the spell circle, sniffing bottle of ink and blood, wondering if it was his blood needed and-- well, that would make sense. Lips purse together, but the prick to his finger and the added dot of red leaves him full of expectation and.... noth-- oh?
Leaning close, he can see movement, like a plant breaking its way through the surface of the earth, a single blackish-red tendril wiggles its way through. Arms shoot up with an excited YES, gaze bolting about as if someone would be there to congratulate him on his small success before immediately leaning down closer with words of encouragement. Maybe it was shy? Weak? It’s ok bb, Nicholas is here~ “There there little guy, come on, coooome on~” Chuckle brightens his face, completely forgetting the whole intent of bringing this thing out, and more focused on the fact that it was tiny and absolutely adorable. It wiggles nervously, then confidently, growing in size until finally Nicholas is sitting up and staring at it face to face. It’s inky looking and curious touch tells him it’s slimy but even that’s just clear with an almost oil-slick like sheen.
“Oh the staff at the cleaning staff would hate this--ACK??” Something touched his face! Head snaps around and in the reflected circle of the mirror is another tentacle, breaching its way through with curious intent toward summoner. Then another- and another-- “oh. Oh no, that’s too many--” Even in the circle before him do more start pulling themselves through, shapes and sizes varying as thin ones twisted about thicker bases, others nearing with clear intent to grab and-- “OOoooohkay, nope, we’re just going to just, stop all this. Do you understand me?” It’s definitely more of a nervous plead than a command. “I’m gonna need your friends to just... go back to-” Since when was there one wrapped around his ankle? And lord they were strong--
“Hahaha-- ok ok, time to stop guys-- no-- no, don’t grab the other ankle, nooOOOoo-- I meAN IT--” The nervous panic was starting to set in as they took hold of each ankle that ignored his petty attempts at tearing them off and instead yanked legs apart with a loud yelp. The more he struggled, the more they seemed set on restraining him with their smooth heavy limbs, and even though feet kicked in an attempt to crawl backwards, his back smacked into the front of sturdy mirror that acted more like a wall caging him inside. Oil-slick slimy tentacles reaching from the mirror took their chance to drape over shoulders and slip into his neckline causing goosebumps across his skin. W-wait-- hey-- no no nO -- but the moment arm raises in protest, strong slick limb grabs his weak wrist, knee jerk reaction had frame twist to undo it, but all it does is make his free wrist captured. With arms now bound and ankles held taught apart, there’s a pause. Nicholas’ face contorted in frustration and then ultimately defeat as next tentacle wiggled across the floor in sly expectation over pants.
“F-fine. Fine!” Lips pursed together and things twisted in eager acknowledgement that had Nicholas bickering with it some more. “Oh- OH, So you CAN understand, fine! Just-- nothing too weird.” A mute point when he’s so compromised and a few more inky intruders start to tug and pull at his limbs until lower half is thoroughly spread and smaller constraints touch under clothes to elbow and knee. Another thicker one presses at his cheek approvingly, hugging against his neck in jaw as if that was some form of comfort before bold member slips beneath his pant line.
Now short cleric was... “pure”. Physically. Hands have enthusiastically explored himself and he was no stranger to relieving himself of his sexual frustrations, but this was the first time he’d had anyone but himself touch him and it showed. Any babbling he had done just seconds before cut themselves short and heart rate rises as warm limb grazed against him, sliding over balls and taint, between cheeks to come out the other side and wedge pants down just enough until butt sat on he chill floor and growing erection exposed if upper layers weren’t messily covering him. Something about not seeing what was happening only made everything more exciting, more nerve wracking as more eased their way beneath fabric to taste and squeeze gently over sensitive skin.
Anticipation and tinge of embarrassment has dark haired thing squirming with a single tentacle that wrapped around the base of him, easing itself upwards and back down again with ease. Then it moves a bit faster, others curling over sack with equally comforting tug, and it doesn’t take much for cleric to start breathing heavy against the limb that still licked at his cheek or try to hide behind elbows that were being raised ever higher by captors. It’s not until the smaller ones start writhing their way over the thick boys do things get overwhelming.
A long thin tip searches over penis head until it finds small slit to slowly wiggle into; gentle and curious, it presses in, waiting for any protest, and then out, repeating but going deeper while it joins brothers about the shaft, squeezing and releasing in an upward pulsing motion that has his legs trembling. It feels weird, tingling, and he has little control over how hips jerk desperately for escape or the friction at his wrists as tentacles tighten their grip there and at his ankles. Panting moans verge to the point of barely muffled whining, voice pitching and cracking with every wiggle as foreign limb slowly fucked itself into him. Another slithery blackish limb slid across pale thigh staying close to the crease of his leg before wrapping underneath his clothes possessively at his waist. Heat was pooling at the pit of his stomach with legs desperate to slam together, knees trembling as boiling point started to to get near. Panicked chest rising and falling, whatever this thing was, it realized he was getting close and started to move faster, wet suction growing stronger, and all too intrusive tip no longer leaving the hole it occupied, pumping with a dangerous speed that has Nicholas crying.
“Out-- Take it out-- Take it outtakeitoutplease-- PLEASE!!” Toes curled as he begged, overwhelmed tears welling up in the corner of his eyes before words are too complicated to say and tentacle slips out just as it gave conclusive squeeze and burst of cum decorated his stomach and thigh. Body jolts into silence that he’s finally granted release from his torture save for the echoed whine and pathetic needy whimpers that follow. Oh gross gross gross--! Shame is the first emotion to wash over him, embarrassment the next, and a tinge of fear-- why did that make him cum so hard?? Restraints give small cleric some slack and a welcomed relief as he tries to collect himself and palms smack tiredly against the floor. Head falls back against the mirror, hand resting on his chest with the realization that he’s been freed. Peace!! Peace at last -- mind evaluates himself and curious tug pulls clothes from over himself just to see the mess he’s left and that his dick was fine. Oh thank god. This relief last if only for a moment.
Single inky tendril slides sneakily towards his hip, feeling the air, attempting to take small tastes of his skin that Nicholas lazily tries to shoo away. Which was apparently the Wrong Thing To Do.
The show of weakness has the same limb thick and strong, snatch at fragile waist, yanking him downwards onto his back with a hard thud. There was no time to yelp because the moment he does, mouth is occupied. Fat and heavy, slimy member forces its way to the back of his throat, excited by impulsive need for human to swallow and tighten around it. It’s patient enough to wait for Nicholas to stop struggling, a minute before he starts to breathe through his nose and then it moves, languidly pressing in hoping to feel the velvety vibrations of fragile mortal’s moans which would come soon enough. Beast, monster, demon -- thing doesn’t bother restraining arms (not that they weren’t eagerly feeling over their hopeless attempts to escape) because its focus was too busy working complicated layers of clothes to get at the softer fleshy bits. For Nicholas, it was hard to fight back when his attention was at his mouth trying to breathe, muffled protesting shouts dying off, and tongue curling instinctively about its surprisingly warm weight. Thoughts were a buzz and buzzing faster when he feels protective clothes leave him and holy garb torn to make way to his chest. He’s not sure if he’s completely bare, it wouldn’t have mattered now that pale skin was easy to mark and already was starting to turn pink in the places where tentacles had clung and sucked onto.
A multitude of thicker limbs caressed over him, feeling at the highs and lows of bone and muscle, and with nippled exposed, smaller mandibles slithered their way to dance and play with them. It doesn’t take long for distressed breathing to slow, acceptance as refractory period was rushed to a close, and soft muted moan surprised even him. He liked this -- sharp flick against his chest has him pressing his legs together, messy thighs sliding against each other while he takes what’s in his mouth a tad bit deeper. If he could swear he would, wondering if it was the lack of control or the feeling of captured prey that had him creeping up on next sinful sound.
The tentacle at his waist smoothed underneath his back, lifting it to a small arch that Nicholas readily complied with, but he nearly chokes when lower half is flipped skyward. Thing must have sensed his tension and distraction came in the form of a strong thrust into his throat, a bit faster, a bit harder, then slowing down once the hands desperately hugged at the thing eased. Hands tried to grab for something else, something easier only to messily catch hold of the multitude of other tentacles that seemed to be joining to fray, curling around his legs that now hung over him. The embarrassment he felt before? Gone. Occasionally legs twitched and kicked, only to be haphazardly restrained while mandibles inched ever so dangerously close to the place no one has been in. Not that thing cared, it was busy coiling back over his hardening shaft, squeezing at balls and -- ok the embarrassments back when he’s hard again. Mind stimulated to a degree that was near overwhelming.
First to make curious prod is small, winding wet and slippery between exposed spread cheeks to tease at virgin hole, testing the waters and feeling his heart rate anxiously rise until breaching inward. Whimpered cry catches in his throat and once again legs try to right themselves with struggled jerk, back and behind wiggling in protest done more out of habit than need, but thick vice around his waist tightened and its tip pressed at his lower back so he was more firmly held in place. The one at his ass slid ever deeper, rhythmically pulsing at the edge, growing ever bigger the easier it was to stretch him wider, until it was finally built up enough to be fucking into him with wave-like motion that had little thing lightly bounding against the ground.
He’s melting into the floor moaning with little conscious need to hold back confused pitched sounds, every synapse bursting in strange new position when suddenly he tastes air. Deep breath gives way to shuddering sigh, tongue licking at wetted lips that had odd mix of saliva and mystery coating that had the faintest taste of magic to it and bleary eyes glance upwards to see the size of what was in his mouth now hungrily fall over tentacle-caged erection and taint to--
“NO. HnGNGgghH-- W-Wait-- No-- I-- I can’t--ah-ah-aHW-Wait--” whether thing could understand him or not, pleading fell on deaf ears and tip was already wiggling and nudging around hole that was still occupied by far smaller guest that started to move slower, a bit deeper so that thick one could more easily lick at edges, pressing experimentally until finally it gave way. Clearly excited, it wasted no time trying to push deeper, twisting sloppy and moist around partner that squirmed eagerly inside of him.
“AhhHHHhnNNN!!” Nicholas immediately became unabashedly loud. It didn’t hurt, not in the slightest, event as fat member stretched him far beyond the limits he thought was capable, both fucked into him with opposite momentums leaving him a mewling wreck, calling for names he’d only heard in dreams. it wasn’t nearly as nice to him this time around, the multitude of tentacles wrapped about his dick squeezing just hard enough that it wouldn’t let him cum as the two continued to move faster. The fullness was tantalizingly thrilling, he’d never felt this way even with what little toys he could get and he’s gotten so noisy with every rushed pant that left his sweat stained against the floor. The closer he gets, the more it tries to restrain him; wrists against the wood by his shoulders, one even found purchase at his neck, pushing chin upward so his unbelievably lewd cries have no where to go but echo off the walls of the room. For a minute, he even catches a glimpse of himself entangled in multicolored arms that all moved with eerie fluidity into him and he knows it’s him because when he opens his mouth, it does too and-- god he looks so obscene-- but so-- good---
Back arches with ready anticipation of what’s to come, a needy moan as one of the tentacles manages to brush against the spot that made Nicholas want to end it all and the smaller stopping its thrusting in favor of focusing meager attention on sliding against it while larger continued to pump in tandem with his breath. Teeth bite hard into his lip and he almost wished he could dig his nails into a person, but that sentiment is short lived when nipple is pinched and that familiar searing heat started to boil. He can’t hold back, he can’t -- he can’t--! It was too much! This was too much -- He can’t-- “I can’t--!!” Red flushed body burns and he’s slick with his own sweat and cum, tipping over the edge again with violent cry that shakes him to his core. Tentacles thrust hard and deep, the small bulge against his stomach visible if it weren’t for his release that fell hotly across chest and face.
Vision falls away and the tension he had held now released, leaves small thing empty and used. The things inside him twist and turn comfortably, lazily easing their way out while his waist is lowered back into the floor with a gentle thump. The others leave just as slow, taking their time over glistening body, licking across his neck and cheek where pearly white globs were smeared towards his mouth as they passed by before disappearing back into the floor, mirrors or... wherever they had come from.
So there he was left, breathless and disarray, clothes littered and torn, holy garb staring at him shamefully while he weakly sat himself up to survey the damage done. Covered in marks, ‘hickies’, bruises, sweat, oily substance, and cum, lower back tingling and feeling empty after having his insides just jumbled about; Nicholas quietly shuffled across the floor over mirrored circle to where the spell book lay, symbols and words still vivid across the page and he... tears it out.
He was going to keep this one for himself. For later.
For research.
#no one fucking @ me#;; the curse of the holy ( cleric )#DONT EVEN LOOK AT ME#I feel bad for everyone on mobile#I don't have many followers on this account#but this is LONG
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Dialed to Eleven
I have a problem
The spider bite that gave Peter his powers had an unexpected (not to mention, embarrassing) side-effect that he wants gone. The kid turns to Tony Stark for help.
word count: 4,857
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“Hey, uh, Mr. Stark?”
Tony looked up from his workspace in surprise, flipping the welding mask off his eyes and on to his forehead. Peter Parker was standing in the doorway of his lab, his arms crossed with his hands clamped around each elbow, looking small and nervous. Stark hadn’t been expecting the kid to stop by the tower today. Normally, he called beforehand, or texted, or sent a string of those weird little internet pictures that made no sense but never ceased to make Peter burst out laughing.
“Hey?” Tony replied. It came out less like a greeting and more like a question. “I mean, uh, hey.”
“Hi.”
They stared at each other for a few awkward seconds before Stark scoffed and stood. “Um…what’re you doing here? How did you even get in?”
Peter glanced over his shoulder then back at the billionaire. “The, uh…the window.”
“Right,” he snorted. He had forgotten that he’d told FRIDAY to disable the tower’s defense protocols whenever she detected Spider-Man entering. He placed his blowtorch on the counter. “Well, what’s up? Do you need something?”
The kid shook his head. “No,” he said, but he looked as if he was trying to convince himself he didn’t, and was doing a very bad job at it. Then he squeezed his eyes shut. “I mean, well, sorta. Maybe. I don’t know.”
Tony motioned him forward. Hesitantly, Peter stepped into the lab.
“What’s wrong?” Stark asked, slipping the welding goggles off his forehead. Peter stopped in front of him and bit his lip. The kid had a bad habit of tip-toeing around his words whenever he was trying to open up to others, especially when he was asking for help. It cut Tony a little that Peter still thought himself unworthy of directly requesting his mentor’s aid.
“Nothing’s really wrong, per se,” he finally mumbled out, twiddling his thumbs in front of his chest. “It’s just…it’s sorta…well, I’m not really sure how to explain it.”
Stark wrinkled his nose. “Is this some kind of puberty thing? Where you’re, yah know, starting to feel some new things? Desires, urges, unfamiliar yearnings—”
“No!” Peter interrupted sharply, flushing red. “No, no, no. Not that.”
“—because if you really need someone to talk to, I mean—”
“I do not,” he insisted, practically gagging. “I’m done with puberty. Please stop.”
Tony chuckled. “All right. If you say so. What is it, then?”
Peter blinked and cleared his throat and shifted his weight between his feet. “Okay,” he said quietly, huffing out a quick breath. “Okay, so…you know how I got bit by a spider?”
“Yeah,” Tony said.
“And—and you know how it gave me powers?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Right,” Peter said. “And remember how I told you how it also kind of dialed all my senses to eleven? Like, uh, made me a lot more sensitive to loud sounds and strong smells and other stuff?”
Stark nodded. “Vaguely, yes.”
“Well, I’ve sort of learned how to handle most of it. So that, you know, it doesn’t really bother me and I can use my heightened senses to my advantage.” Peter slowed his rant for an instant and scratched at his forearms, trying to gather his thoughts. “But, um…there’s been this one sort of side-effect thing from the bite that’s just been bad. Like, not helpful and at all. And I want to try to make it go away, but I’m not sure how.”
“What kind of side-effect?” Tony asked.
Peter hung his head and sighed. “It’s…well…” He glanced around the room, making absolutely sure it was just the two of them. “It’s kind of…embarrassing.”
Stark raised an eyebrow. “Embarrassing?”
“Yeah,” Peter mumbled. He crossed his arms and chewed the inside of his cheek. Tony had seen the kid nervous and flustered before, but not like this. It was a very endearing look on the teenage superhero. Whatever it was that was bothering him was obviously hard for him to talk about, so Tony punched him playfully in the shoulder and offered him a reassuring smile.
“Well, I can’t really help you unless you tell me what’s going on, kiddo.”
“I know,” Peter groaned.
“So why don’t you try explain whatever it is you’re dealing with, and I’ll promise not to tell anyone about it. Deal?”
Peter searched his mentor’s expression for a moment, rocking back and forth on his heels, then let his shoulders sink.
“Okay,” he said miserably. “Just promise you won’t make fun of me.”
Stark grinned and wrapped an arm around the kid’s shoulders. “I promise to do my very best. How about that?” He led the kid to a stool by his work bench and gestured for him to sit. “But I feel like whatever this is, you’re being a bit dramatic. I mean, it can’t be that debilitating, can it?”
Peter sat and shook his head. “It’s not necessarily…debilitating,” he said. “It’s just…okay, here it goes.” He adjusted his positioning on the stool so that his feet were dangling above the floor. “So…um…y-you know how people are ticklish?”
Tony narrowed his eyes at him. What kind of question was that? “Uh, yeah,” he answered.
“Okay, well, see, ever since I gained my powers, I’ve gotten…more ticklish.” The longer he spoke, the pinker his face became. “It’s like…I think since all of my other senses were heightened, my sense of touch was heightened, too.”
“Okay,” Stark said, trying to track with him, attempting not to smile. “Well, is that the only thing that’s gotten worse? Do you also feel, I don’t know, pain more acutely?”
Peter tilted his head to the side. “No, not really. I feel pain differently, I guess, but I definitely have a higher tolerance for it now than I did before the bite. There’s a lot of things I feel differently now, but this…” He swallowed. “This is the only thing that’s just worse.”
At this point, the smile had bled through Tony’s defenses, and he was biting back a snort. “I mean, is it really that bad? I’m not sure there’s a cure for being ticklish, kid. It’s just how some people are.”
Peter bunched his shirt sleeves in his palms anxiously. “I know, but…there’s being normally ticklish, and then there’s this.” He crossed his legs on top of the stool. “Most people are ticklish in just some places. You know, like, your feet, your belly, whatever. That’s how I used to be.” Peter combed a hand through his hair. “But now, it’s like…everywhere.”
Stark blinked. “Everywhere?”
He nodded shyly. “Yeah. And in the normal places, it’s like a hundred times worse. And I don’t know how to fix it.” The kid stared up at him with his big, brown, puppy-dog eyes. “Can you help?”
Tony wasn’t sure if he should burst out laughing or feel bad for Peter. He kind of felt like doing both. It was such a cute and silly problem—certainly not the kind most superheroes had to deal with after developing powers. But the kid was clearly bent out of shape over it.
“I mean…I can try,” he said unconvincingly. “We can run some tests, I guess. Hop up on the table.”
Peter did as he was told, looking nervous. “What kind of tests?”
Stark opened a cabinet under the counter and pulled out a bag of old paintbrushes, selecting the tiniest one from the batch. “This should work,” he said cheerfully. He swiveled back toward the kid. “Let’s test and write down how sensitive each area of your body is. A sort of ‘on a scale of 1-10’ kind of thing. Maybe that will give us some clues as to why your sense of touch is so whacked out right now.”
Peter glanced between the brush and Stark’s face and audibly swallowed. “I mean, if you think it’ll help…”
“We’ll start simple,” he continued. “Let me see your hand.”
The kid hesitated, then slowly extended his arm. Tony held Peter’s hand in his and flipped his palm upright.
“Since there are two types of tickling sensations—knismesis and gargalesis —we’ll have to test both.”
“Knees-ma-what and gargly-who now?” Peter said.
“Fancy words for, say, soft and feathery touches versus aggressive squeezy-type touches.”
Peter shuddered. “Oh god. I can already tell I’m going to hate this.”
Tony chuckled, then laid the paintbrush against the kid’s hand. “Now then, how would you rate this?” he asked. He brushed the bristles lightly along his palm, and Peter immediately flinched away.
“H-hehey!” he squealed, hugging his fist to his chest. “Not great!”
“Seriously?” Stark scoffed.
Peter withered. “I told you it was bad.”
“I’m surprised I haven’t noticed this before now,” he chuckled. “How would you rate that spot?”
The kid looked down at his hand. “A four, I guess? Maybe?”
Tony raised a holographic silhouette of a body off the table in front of him and wrote a four and a ‘K’ in the air beside the palm with his finger. “Okay,” he said, tapping Peter’s knuckle. “Now the gargalesis.”
Peter wrinkled his nose and gave his hand back to Stark. Stark started squeezing his fingers and palm experimentally. This time, Peter didn’t pull back.
“I’m guessing this doesn’t bother you?” Tony asked.
“Yeah. I think it’s just the soft kind that’s worse there.”
“That makes sense,” Stark said. Without warning, he pinned Peter’s wrist to the table and starting sweeping the brush up his forearm.
“Whahat?” Peter yelped. Sharp, adorable giggles immediately started jumping from his lips. “Wahahait! Mr. Stahark! Ahaha!” He thrashed and kicked until he was free, rolling to the other end of the table and shrinking his elbows to his sides. “W-what the hell was that for?”
“I think you need to be restrained so I can get the data I need to help you,” Stark explained. “If you squirm away from me the whole time, I don’t think we’re going to get accurate enough results.”
“Are you serious?” Peter said, blush burning at the tips of his ears.
Tony actually felt bad for the kid this time. A sympathetic, but also endeared kind of bad. Unfortunately, he wasn’t kidding. “I’m afraid so, bud. If you want me to help you, I need to properly diagnose the extent and severity of your symptoms.”
Peter palmed his face with both hands. “Oh god,” he groaned, smiling anxiously through his fingers. “I mean, okay. Fine, I guess. If you really think it’ll help.”
“We could just forget about it, kid. Even if I can figure out the cause—”
“No,” he sighed. “I really want to know what’s going on.” He crawled to the middle of the table and flopped on his back with his arms above his head, puffing out his cheeks. Tony read this as a cue to go ahead and restrain him. He gave the word to FRIDAY, and metal clasps bubbled up from the table and latched around the kid’s wrists and ankles, making him jump in surprise.
“Holy shit,” he gasped, immediately trying to wriggle free. The bonds held him firmly in place, keeping his arms and legs pinned against the cold surface. “I didn’t mean right now! Since when were those installed?”
“What better time than the present?” Stark said with a shrug, walking up to his side. “Unless you’re still not sure about this.”
“I’m not,” he laughed nervously, stretching and shifting as much as the restraints allowed. “Definitely not, heh. But, I mean, go ahead, I guess.”
Stark couldn’t help but chuckle at the kid’s squirmy timidness. He wasn’t even touching him yet. “All right,” he said, lifting up the brush. “I’ll try to go quick.”
The moment the bristles made contact with Peter’s wrist, he started twitching and giggling in the cutest way possible. It grew very clear very quick that Spider-Man hadn’t been joking: he was definitely more ticklish than the average person. A lot more. Tony was basically just holding the brush against his arm, and already the kid was turning red with laughter.
“Wow,” Stark said, grinning. “That bad, huh?”
“I’m sohohorry,” Peter giggled helplessly. “Ihi’m soho anxious!”
“So is it just the anxiety making you laugh, or does it really tickle that much? How would you rate this?”
“Seheven!” he stammered out, dropping his head against the table. Tony scoffed.
“Seven? I’m not even moving the brush!” Smiling wide, Stark started dragging the bristles down the length of his arm. The lower he got, the higher and wilder Peter’s laughter became. Tony found himself laughing along with him and fought to stay composed.
“Ohoho my gohahad,” Peter whined, balling his hands into fists.
“I thought maybe you were exaggerating a bit. But man, this is…” His voice trailed off as he watched the teen giggle. His face hurt from grinning so much. “You have to admit, this is a pretty freaking adorable problem to have, kid. I’m almost tempted not to help you. Are you sure you want to get rid of it?”
“Yehehes!” Peter laughed, squeezing his eyes shut. “Plehease hurry uhuhup!”
Stark had a feeling he was going to regret requesting that. His suspicions were confirmed when he moved the brush below Peter’s elbow, and the kid leapt and squealed.
“Ahahahack!” he cried. “Mihister Stahahark! Thihis ihihis torhorture!”
“Rating?” Tony inquired.
“Tehehen!”
Stark rolled his eyes. “I don’t think your measuring system is very reliable. FRIDAY, scan him while I’m doing this and rate each area’s ticklishness based on his reactions.”
“On it,” FRIDAY’s chipper voice replied from overhead. “I’ll have a full map generated once you’ve finished testing his whole body.”
“Perfect,” Stark said. He switched to squeezing Peter’s arm, which only elicited a reaction when he got close to his armpit.
“I cahahan’t do thihis,” Peter whimpered.
“Sure you can,” Tony insisted. He plucked the paintbrush off the table and held it toward the kid’s underarm. Before he even touched him, Peter flinched away with a squeak.
“Noho! Never mind! Ihihi give up!”
“You give up?” Stark repeated mockingly. “We’ve barely even started.”
“It’s nohot worth it.”
A mischievous grin crawled across Tony’s face. “You should’ve thought of that before letting me pin you to the table.”
The kid blinked at him, jaw dropping open. “W-what?”
“I believe this has to be done whether you like it or not,” he clarified matter-of-factly. “We need to get to the bottom of this for your own wellbeing. And at this point, it’s not like you can stop me.”
With an evil gleam in his eye, Tony moved the brush closer to the kid’s armpit. Peter wrenched and squirmed, but to his horror, he realized Stark was right. He was trapped.
“Wahahait!” Peter cried. “Noho! Mr. Stahark! Plehease don’t!”
Tony ignored him and slipped the brush inside his shirt sleeve, stroking the bristles against the unbearably sensitive skin under his arm. Peter gasped, then sputtered, then exploded into a whole new magnitude of laughter.
“AHAhahaha! Nohoho!” He twisted and floundered, but it was all in vain. There was no escaping the soft, feathery brushstrokes, which were painting circles and swirls and figure eights in the most ticklish spot of his vulnerable pit.
Peter’s entire face flushed crimson. “Stohohahap! Stahahap! Mihister Starharhahahaaa!”
“Now this is where things start get interesting,” Tony said, smiling down at the blushing, laugh-wracked kid. He had meant to go easy on him at first, to only tickle him enough to get the data they needed, but now he was having too much fun. He set the brush down and switched to digging his thumbs into both of Peter’s armpits, kneading deep into the hollows with merciless intensity. This time, Peter shrieked.
“AHAHAHAHAAA!” Spider-Man arched his spine and shook his head from side to side, hiccups jumping from his throat. “N-NOHO! NOHOHAHAHAGH!”
“I’d say that’s a pretty sensitive spot,” Stark noted gleefully. “What do you think, kiddo?”
“HEHEHELP!” Peter pleaded between bouts of hysterical giggles. Tony tickled the entirety of each underarm before finally lifting his hands off the kid. He looked like he might explode if he didn’t give him a rest.
“Gaha…” Peter wheezed, eyes wide, gulping down air like a fish. “Oho man…”
“Ready for the next round?” Tony asked far too soon, twirling the paintbrush just above his tummy. Peter went rigid.
“Noho! Please!”
“Better move this out of the way,” Stark said, lifting the kid’s shirt to expose his bare belly. “You know, so we can get the most accurate results.”
Peter pulled at his restraints with all his might. “Mihister Stark! I’m behegging you! Lehet me goho!”
“But you asked me to help you figure this out,” he said innocently, spinning the paintbrush between his fingers. “I’m only doing what’s best for you. If I don’t help you fix this, and word gets out about your little weakness, then every super villain you encounter is going to hold you down and tickle you until you die—or until you spill the beans on all of the Avengers’ secrets.”
Peter opened his mouth to retaliate, but he didn’t know what to say. “But—but—” was all he got out before Tony started fluttering the paintbrush just below his ribcage, and a giant grin cracked across his face. “Mmheehaha! Shihihit!”
“It’s just like painting a beautiful landscape,” Stark said, skimming the bristles slowly and delicately up his side. “You know, Bob Ross style. “Except instead of canvas, I have a super giggly teenager.” He went down his side again. Then up. Then back down. Oscillating the brush in a wave-like motion. Poking the brush tip underneath his back. Then he switched to Peter’s other side, starting the whole masterpiece all over again. Peter was in squirmy pieces.
“I cahahan’t! I cahahahan’t! Plehehehease!”
“All right, I hear you,” Tony concurred. He swept the brush across Peter’s tummy, causing the kid to cringe and squeal. “Let’s move on, shall we?”
“Nohohahaha!” Peter laughed, sucking in his abs and throwing his weight from side to side. His efforts did nothing to deter the brush’s cruel, smooth path; never once did the bristles lift from his unbelievably sensitive skin. They glided and slid and danced and wiggled; they skirted and fluttered and twitched and stroked. The brush scoured across every last inch of his tummy before honing on Peter’s bellybutton, poking and swirling inside and around. The kid screeched.
“Ihihihi’m dyhyhing!”
“I think you might be speaking too soon,” Tony said, placing the paintbrush on the table then wiggling his fingers threateningly. He didn’t attack right away, though—Peter was probably exaggerating about the whole dying thing, but the red color consuming his entire body told a different story. He didn’t want to take any chances. Plus, watching the kid giggle and squirm in anticipation was beyond adorable.
“Y-you’re soho mean,” Peter wheezed, flinching and squealing every time Tony jumped at him. He clawed at the air just above his tummy, driving the kid up the wall. “Stahap! Shihit! You ahasshole!”
“Oh. So you want you me to actually tickle you instead of faking it?” Stark shrugged. “Okay then. I was trying to give you a break, but…”
Tony reached down and wrapped his hands around Peter’s torso. The kid fell to pieces before he even started to tickle him, and Stark suddenly felt like a very peculiar and very cruel Spider-Man villain. He kneaded his fingers into his sides, his hips, his belly. He squeezed all over, quick and repetitive, then ground his knuckles into the entirety of his ribcage, followed by worming every fingertip between each rib. Peter’s wild laughing dissolved back into sporadic hiccups, which racked his whole frame and jumped from his throat.
Tony ceased his attack when the kid stopped making sounds altogether—once he was just lying there, bouncing with silent laughter, smiling the biggest smile in the world. It took him a minute to start laughing again, then another minute to actually form words between each giggle bout.
“Hehelp,” he whimpered.
“Yep,” Stark said. “I think we’ve got a fair reading on your upper body’s sensitivity.”
“Screhew you…” Peter panted breathlessly, tears shining in his eyes. “Ihi’m n-never…never trusting you agahain…”
When Tony didn’t respond, Peter turned to look up at him. He was surprised to see a flash of actual hurt cross his mentor’s expression. Stark’s hands fell to his sides.
“Aw, man. See, I can’t have that.”
Peter blinked repeatedly, wrinkling his brow. “Wait, w-what?”
Tony’s eyes rose to the ceiling, and he snapped his fingers in the air. Instantly, the clasps on Spider-Man’s limbs unlatched and receded back into the table, leaving him stunned and free.
“I’m sorry, kiddo. I took it too far. You came to me for help, and I shouldn’t take that lightly.”
Slowly, Peter sat upright, hugging himself around the middle. His tummy and ribcage tingled all over, resulting in a few residual giggles slipping from his lips.
“I don’t ever want you to think you can’t trust me. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.” The corners of Stark’s mouth lifted hesitantly. “I just really like seeing you smile and hearing you laugh. We’ve all been in a pretty dark spell since Thanos, so…” With a sigh, he waved his hand dismissively. “Anyway. FRIDAY probably has enough data to figure out what’s up with your biology. I’ll start working through it and I’ll text you if any potential leads come up.”
Peter stared at him, silent, unsure how to respond. On one hand, he absolutely hated how insanely ticklish he was. Everything else the spider bite had given him was helpful, powerful, heroic, but this—this was just embarrassing. It was a weakness, and he wanted all his weaknesses gone.
On the other hand, it wasn’t a total negative. It was a way to make himself and others smiley and giggly even when spirits were low. Sure, it rendered him breathless and flustered. But, as much as he hated to admit it, it also cheered him, brightened his mood, reminded him how to laugh when joy felt impossible.
Being abnormally ticklish wasn’t particularly to his liking. Neither was being restrained and tickled out of his mind. But he wasn’t entirely against affectionate pokes and prods every now and then. Ben used to tease him like that all the time, especially when school had him at his wits end. May did it to punctuate the fact that he was still a kid—her kid. It was a way to make him happy during times when he was determined not to be.
“No, I…I’m sorry, Mr. Stark. I didn’t mean it.” Peter would trust Tony with his life. Nothing would ever change that. He rubbed at his aching ribs. “I just said it so you’d stop before I exploded.”
Stark chuckled. “Fair enough. I should’ve stopped before that, though. Your face was almost the color of your suit.”
Heat flushed through Peter as he laughed shyly, cupping his rosy cheeks in his hands. “Ugh. It’s so embarrassing.”
“Well, like I said: your secret’s safe with me. And I won’t abuse my knowledge of it anymore. You’re free to go now.”
Peter glanced up at the ceiling then back at Tony. “Are you sure you have all the data you need?”
He shrugged. “No. But I’ll do my best with what we’ve got.”
The kid crossed his arms against his chest and his legs against the table. “So…if you tested the rest of me, you think you’d have a better chance of figuring out what’s wrong?”
“Uh,” Stark said, narrowing his eyes. “Maybe? Probably. I mean, no guarantees, but…”
Peter nodded, then heaved a lofty sigh. “Alright. Go ahead, then.”
Tony’s lip twitched. “Huh?”
“Test the rest of me,” he murmured. “Quickly, though, so I don’t spontaneously combust.”
“Are…you sure?” Stark asked, laying his palms against the table. “You seem to really hate it, and I don’t want to make you hate me for doing it to you.”
Peter leaned back on his elbows and stretched out his legs, shifting uncomfortably. “I don’t…necessarily…hate it,” he managed to say. He cleared his throat. “It’s just that it’s a weakness, and I’m a superhero. And superheroes aren’t supposed to have weaknesses.”
As Tony looked upon his blushing mentee, a soft smile broke across his face. “Now that’s where you’re wrong, kiddo. Everyone has weaknesses, regardless of how super they may seem.” He poked him in the belly, making Peter leap and sputter. “Yours just happens to be a very adorable one.”
“Stohop,” Peter giggled, gripping his side.
“Mm, No, I don’t think I will,” Tony said smugly. He stood up straight and wagged his finger. “You see, Pete, you made the mistake of telling me you don’t hate it. Which means I now feel absolutely no remorse for doing this.”
With two simultaneous clicks, the clasps suddenly reemerged from the table, trapping Spider-Man in his current position. Peter yelped in surprise as Stark rounded the table so he was standing behind him.
“H-hey! Wait! Mr. Stark!” He pulled uselessly against the restraints, trying to turn to see over his shoulder, then squeaked when something feathery brushed the back of his neck.
“What? I’m just doing what you said—testing the rest of you.” He fluttered the paintbrush against his neck, occasionally teasing his collarbone and tickling his ears, making Peter giggle and twist and flare with goosebumps.
“Nohoho! Ihi tahake it bahahack!” he squealed.
“Too late,” Tony said, switching to his hands. “Because if you don’t hate it, that means at least part of you enjoys it. Check and mate.” He squeezed at the muscle between Peter’s neck and shoulders, and the poor kid cringed.
“Ahahaha! Ihihihi dohohon’t!”
“Sure, sure, whatever you say,” Stark chuckled. He gave him one last pinch, then stepped away, letting him take a breath. “Lucky for you, there’s really only one more place I think we need to test.”
“Whehere?” Peter gasped, slumping flat and hanging his head. The realization struck him before Tony even started moving to the opposite side of the table. “Wahait! Wait, wait, wahait!”
Stark stopped by his feet and smiled sympathetically. “If you really don’t want me to, I won’t.”
The kid groaned. “Ugh. Shihit. Just get it over with…”
Tony pulled his left shoe and sock off. Peter was red and giggling just from thinking about those feathery bristles touching his soles, which made Stark chuckle.
“Judging from your face and general disposition right now, am I correct in assuming this is your worst spot?”
Peter squirmed. “Ihit’s all soho bad…”
“Maybe it has something to do with your stickiness,” Stark suggested. He stroked the brush from the ball of Peter’s foot to the tips of his toes, and the kid squawked.
“AHAHAHAHAAA! Dahahammit!” He expected him to stop after that, but Tony kept going, fluttering the bristles along the sides and arch of his foot, poking the plastic end between his toes. Peter went from laughing to shrieking to hiccuping in a matter of seconds, wrenching and twisting against his restraints. Stark ceased his attack in less than a minute—he truly believed the kid couldn’t survive a moment longer than that.
“Okay, okay, we’re done,” he laughed, re-releasing Peter from the clasps holding his limbs hostage. “Geez, kid. I don’t know how you’ve managed to hide this for so long.”
“Nohot…eheasily…” he wheezed. He curled into a tiny ball, dizzy and breathless.
“Map generated,” FRIDAY said from above. A diagram of a human body materialized in front of them with labels on different areas, listing their designated ticklishness rating. “I’ll start running diagnostic tests right away.”
“You do that,” Tony said. He turned back to Peter, who was still struggling to catch his breath. “I’ll let you know what she digs up, okay?.”
“Yay…” he whimpered, lying on his side. Stark chuckled softly and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Are you sure you’re alright?”
After a moment, Peter sat up, an exhausted but happy smile on his face. “Y-yeah,” he panted, wiping his eyes. “I’m fine, honestly. Just…whew.”
“I wish I didn’t have to resort to that to get you to smile and laugh like you used to,” Tony said, solemn. “You know, before…”
“Yeah,” he giggled shyly. “I guess it isn’t all bad. Even if It is a weakness.”
“Just don’t let your villains find out about it. Like, seriously. They’d break you in minutes. And possibly kill you.”
Peter winced. “Right, heh. Better not tell Sam or Bucky about it, either.”
“Smart thinking,” Stark said.
A week later, neither FRIDAY nor Stark had found any solid leads regarding the cause of the kid’s strange ailment, or how to get rid of it. Tony felt bad for putting him through all of that trouble for nothing, but surprisingly, Peter was okay with it. It was a part of him, just as much as his super-strength and sticky fingers and spider sense were, and he’d decided to accept that. Even if there was a way to get rid of it, he wasn’t so sure he would anymore.
As long as it wasn’t common knowledge, at least. If his secret got out, his opinion on the matter might do a one-eighty. Especially if any of the other Avengers discovered it. Perhaps in the long run it would make all of them, including Peter, a bit happier overall.
But good god—he’d be so freaking screwed.
#ticklish!peter#ticklish!peter parker#ticklish!spidey#ticklish!spiderman#spiderman#spiderman tickle#spiderman fanfiction#sfw#sfw tickle fic#sfw tickling#spider-man#tom holland#irondad#spiderson#iron dad#my fic#avengers tickling#tickle fic#platonic tickling#spiderman homecoming
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Make It Right [BTS Mafia!AU]
Pairings: Jin x OC | Taehyung/Hoseok x OC | Yoongi/Jungkook x OC
Genre: BTS Mafia!AU
Warnings: Graphic Violence, Heavy Language, Angst, Smut, Slow Burn
WC: 2996
“It’s always darkest before the dawn…” It’s a dog-eat-dog world in Seoul, South Korea. One has to dwell in the shadows in order to reach for the light. What are you willing to sacrifice in order to feel the sunlight on your face? What will it take to drag you back into darkness? How long will the journey be to make it right?
AO3 | WP
Chapter 07: Look Here
"Us meeting isn’t just coincidence.
Meeting you was what I wanted."
Anastasia took a deep breath as Jimin closed the doors behind her. When the soft click ensued, she stepped forward and noticed that the person sitting behind the large desk was not facing them. In fact, all she could see was the desk, the nameplate (which had traditional Chinese characters on it), and the back of the large leather chair. She cleared her throat in an attempt to get the person’s attention, but when there was no response, she decided to wait patiently until she was acknowledged.
This wasn’t America, after all.
Taking a moment to busy herself in the silence, Anastasia made a note of how big the office was. The floor was made of premium marble and the oak desk was clearly well-polished. There was a set of six black leather chairs, three on each side, around a black and marble topped coffee table. Another black leather chair sat at the head of the table just feet away from the desk situated on a slight riser from the rest.
It was modestly decorated, dark green curtains framing a set of bay windows and French doors led to an outdoor balcony. A few pictures hung on the wall but there was a hand-embroidered image of a golden jackal situated on black canvas that was framed and hung over the desk. This kept her attention longer than it should have, but she couldn’t tear her gaze from it. Anastasia knew that she’d seen that before somewhere, but less ornate and less prominent.
She could at least say that it was a lovely piece of artwork.
But where have I seen that from?
“Long time no see, Anastasia,” came a voice suddenly, knocking her out of her thoughts.
Even though she hadn’t meant to, a soft squeak escaped her as she felt her shoulders jump. Anastasia lifted her purse up to her chest, clutching it just a little bit tighter as her eyes focused on where the voice came from. Blinking at the back of the chair at the desk, she watched as it slowly turned. It was like a scene from The Godfather , and when the chair was fully turned around, there in the large leather chair was none other than Kim Seokjin. If he’d been holding a cat, he would have been Claw from Inspector Gadget and then she really would have fallen out.
“W-Wait a minute!” Her eyes practically bugged out of her skull. “Kim Seokjin-ssi, what are you doing here?!”
Pouty lips spread into a knowing smirk, his elbows resting on the arms of the chair while he steepled his fingers. “I work here.” He answered like she’d asked him a math question. “Or, rather, this is my company.”
Anastasia blinked rapidly, her lips opening and closing as a few stammering sounds spilled forth. “What did you say?”
His smile widened further. “I said that this is my company. I own Golden Star.”
She couldn’t believe it. There was no way that he was serious. Seokjin must have cashed in a favor and she was being played a fool. Someone was playing a prank on her! The Kim Seokjin that she knew was a gangster. All of his friends, the ones he called his brothers, were all gangsters. Weren’t they all running around trying to make a name for themselves, getting themselves caught up in the streets?
Her eyes lifted to spy at the art piece of the golden jackal. Their gang was known as The Golden Jackals. Anyone who was even remotely aware of the underground circuit knew of them and was also aware that they were an up and coming group. Their domain was the street, though. At least that was what Jungkook told her when they were still together before they ended their relationship.
So what had changed in that short amount of time? Had they been working on building toward this even back then?
Anastasia suddenly remembered why she was there. She was supposed to undergo an interview to see if she was qualified to be a financial advisor for another company. Not that she had anything against the stock exchange firm she was currently employed with. But she knew that there was limited room for her to grow and to really showcase her skills. Coming from a background that lacked money taught her how to utilize funds and how to properly shift one’s finances to benefit a company and to encourage its growth. This was her chance to finally climb higher and to stabilize herself without worrying about living from paycheck to paycheck.
But this? There was no way she could have prepared herself for this.
Her moment of shock started to ebb away and she took a breath. Anastasia’s eyes narrowed and she frowned. “No.”
Seokjin’s smile fell as he canted his head slightly. “What?”
“No way.” She pivoted on her heels and made her way toward the door. “There is absolutely no fucking way .”
Her hand landed on the door and she began to pull. However, instead of wrenching the door open like she’d anticipated, it held; resisting against her. For a second, all she did was blink - staring at her hand in disbelief. Had she been locked in? Again, she pulled - harder this time, and again, she was met with resistance.
“What in the hell?” Anastasia began pulling more aggressively, using both hands and all the door did was rattle in response. “What the hell is happening?!” She swiveled around, ready to ream into Seokjin when she saw he was directly behind her. Anastasia let out a scream, pressing a hand to her chest as her back slammed into the door. “Wh-Wh-What do you think you’re doing?!”
Seokjin leaned forward, peering into her face. Her cheeks flushed and she mentally kicked herself for her own body reacting involuntarily. She wasn’t sure if it was because he was so close to her or if it was because she was halfway down the road of embarrassing herself. Or was she already there? Well, whatever the case, Anastasia didn’t appreciate him invading her personal space like that.
“I don’t know what’s funnier,” he said slowly, his eyes never leaving hers, “the fact that you’re spazzing out for no reason or that you’re pulling on a door that you’re supposed to be pushing on.”
“Huh?”
What had he just said?
Seokjin reached forward, gripping the handle of the door and he pressed the latch situated at the top. With a gentle push, the door swayed open. Anastasia peered over her shoulder and saw Jimin sitting on the waiting bench, thoroughly engrossed on whatever was on his phone. When the door opened, he looked up and then smiled - giving a pleasant wave to the two of them before going back to his phone.
All she could do was blink in both parts amazement and disbelief.
When it looked like Jimin wasn’t going to intervene, she saw Seokjin moving out of the corner of her eye. He reached forward, grabbed the handle, and then pulled the door closed. Anastasia felt it brush against her shoulder blade, her eyes never leaving Seokjin’s profile even as the door closed with a soft click . His arm lingered there a moment longer before he straightened up to his full height. Some of his hair fell across his brow line and the lump that was unknowingly forming in her throat made her even more aware of their close proximity.
Seokjin normally wasn’t the type to invade another person’s bubble like this. At least from what she knew and of the few times they interacted with one another.
Finally, his smile returned and he looked at her. “Now then,” he began, turning to the side and gesturing toward the array of leather chairs with a wide flourish, “if you’d be so kind, can we get this little meeting underway?”
She felt his hand resting at her lower back and Anastasia’s legs moved unconsciously. What in the world was happening, exactly? Well, she couldn’t be sure. But before she could issue a protest, she was sitting at the chair closest to the one at the head of the table.
“Can I offer you something to drink?” he asked, already making his way toward the area where various liquor decanters were situated.
“Bourbon if you’ve got it. Whiskey if you don’t.”
He chuckled while setting aside two glasses. “And if I have neither?”
“Vodka.”
This elicited a sudden laugh from Seokjin and he came back to the table, holding out the glass containing the amber liquid. Two cubes of ice were inside the tumbler and she looked at it before lifting her gaze to give him a curious look. He settled into the chair, his own glass filled with a similarly colored drink. His contained no ice.
“I remembered that you’re a fan of bourbon. I was just teasing.”
Anastasia pouted, taking a ginger sip of alcohol while secretly thanking him for remembering to pour her drink on the rocks. After taking a moment to appreciate the smoothness of the booze, she set the glass down on the wooden coaster. She crossed one leg over the other, not caring that the toe of her shoe was brushing up against one of the table legs.
“Seokjin-ssi,” she said, her tone as serious as she could manage. He raised a brow at her as he drank. “What is this all about?”
He swallowed, setting his glass down. “I thought you knew what this was about. Isn’t that why you came out here?”
“I came because I was called about a financial advisor position.”
“Well, that certainly hasn’t changed, so what’s the issue?”
Anastasia felt the vein near her temple throbbing. “The issue is that I didn’t know this was your company!”
“Is that a problem?” He smirked. “I didn’t realize me being the boss was a problem for you.”
“It’s not about you, dammit!” she snapped, her neck flaring up with the steady rise of her anger. “You know of my history with Jungkook and it’s not like I’m completely ignorant to who you guys are.”
Seokjin’s smile fell just a fraction. A thoughtful expression soon replaced it as he crossed his legs. “I thought you and Jungkook broke up mutually and are still on good terms.” He looked at her, a single brow raising. “Is that not the case?”
“Well, no, we’re still friends...but--”
“And if it’s the background you’re worried about, you can do some digging if you’d like. Golden Star is a legitimate company, Anastasia.”
“That’s not--”
“Then I guess I’m failing to see what the problem is.” Seokjin folded his hands in his lap. “Care to enlighten me?”
For one of the few times in her life, Anastasia actually had no words. None. It wasn’t like she despised the company of the Golden Jackals. She mostly hung out with Jungkook, Taehyung and Jimin. She could confidently say that they were her friends. Namjoon and Hoseok were nice and Seokjin was always a polite gentleman toward her. There was no real reason for her to be on the defensive.
And yet she still felt like she’d been suckerpunched in the stomach.
She sighed, her hostility deflating as she sank back in the plush leather chair. “Why me?”
Seokjin’s smile returned. “Why not you?”
She scoffed. She couldn’t help herself. “Oh, don’t give me that, Seokjin. You could hire anyone. Especially if you can afford to run your business out of a building like this. It’s almost as big as the company I work for.” Anastasia gave him a pointed look. “I’m one of hundreds of office workers. I literally work from a freaking cubicle. I’m a damn dime a dozen.” Her accent was coming out and she hated it, but she knew that once she got rolling, there was no stopping her. “So why me , Seokjin-ah?”
Anastasia was a professional 99% of the time. It was very rare that she wasn’t, especially when it came to her work. But when the polite form of address was dropped, when honorifics and protocol were thrown out the window, it was when she meant business. She loved her job and she loved the country she was now living in. If it was one thing she wasn’t about to do, it was jeopardize any of that for any reason at any time and not for any one .
A moment of silence passed between them and Seokjin’s arms moved to rest on the arms of the chair. He steepled his fingers again, pressing them against his lips. Anastasia watched him as he tried to formulate the words that she needed to hear. If it was something she wasn’t okay with, her plan was to walk straight out of that office and not look back. Her career meant everything to her. Stability meant everything to her.
She wasn’t in the business of taking risks for no damn reason.
“You’re driven, Anastasia. You’ve always been like that.” He looked at her and she felt her fingers curling into the fabric of her dress pants. “The company you’ve been working for doesn’t know what to do with you. You’ve been with them for five years and three of those five years have been spent here. It’s unheard of for employees starting out to get reassigned to other countries. You’ve clearly got ambition.”
Warmth touched her cheeks and she wasn’t sure what to make of what he was saying. Were they compliments? He wasn’t trying to pull a fast one on her. It simply sounded like he was stating the facts.
She remained silent as he continued.
“But you’ve hit a point where you’re not going to be able to move forward. You’re smarter than half of your co-workers but because you lack a certain set of connections, you’re at an impasse. You can’t move ahead and you can’t just go back.” Seokjin paused, his smile returning. “What if I told you that you wouldn’t have to worry about that here? I need someone who can keep this company financially on track but who also isn’t afraid to make a few risky moves if it means turning a higher profit.”
His offer was enticing. How could it not be? But while she was in the business of taking risks, that didn’t mean she was going to step out on thin ice if she was confident enough to swim in freezing waters.
Reaching for her glass, she tried to appear unimpressed with his words. “What’s the pay?” Anastasia pressed the glass to her lips, letting the alcohol gently touch her tongue.
“Ten thousand dollars the first month.”
A mist of alcohol sprayed from her mouth. Anastasia began coughing furiously, her hand slapping her chest in an attempt to open up her airways so she could breathe. When she was able to gather her senses, she looked at Seokjin with eyes as wide as saucers.
“...what did you just say?”
“And you’ll be getting an additional ten thousand dollar signing bonus.” Seokjin winked. “But that’s because I like you.”
She frowned, coughing one last time as her eyes narrowed. “Stop playing around.”
“I am dead serious.”
“You’re crazy.”
He shrugged. “I’ve been called that and then some, but I can promise you that I am very much within my right mind on this.” His eyes met hers, the smile gone from his face completely. “So, what do you say? You in or out?”
Anastasia picked up her drink and drained the glass. Once she was finished, she stood up from the seat and looked down at him. “You’re only getting one chance to draw up a proper contract. If it’s not to my satisfaction, you can forget it.”
Seokjin stood, one hand sliding into his pocket. “You’ve got yourself a deal.” He looked like he’d already won and this made the muscle at her jaw tick. “I’ll have it sent to your place and you can look over it at your leisure.”
“Fine.” She slipped her purse over her shoulder and made her way to the door. “You’ve got three days, Kim Seokjin-ssi.”
Anastasia pushed the latch on the door handle and pushed this time, the door swaying open easily. Jimin seemed to be waiting on her and he slid his phone into his pocket. He smiled at her cheerfully and she immediately puffed her cheeks out defiantly. Ignoring the arm he held out for her, she huffed her way down the hall.
“I’ll see you in three days, Anastasia D’Angelo,” called Seokjin from down the hall.
Jimin caught up with her and pressed the button to call the elevator. She knew she wouldn’t be able to get back downstairs without his clearance. But that was the only reason she was even waiting on him. As they stepped into the elevator, she saw Seokjin still standing in the doorway of his office. Just before the doors closed, Anastasia stuck her tongue out at him and she had to ignore the way her heart thumped as he laughed - watching him disappear back into his office.
As Jimin swiped his card, he pressed the main floor button. “Did you have a good talk, Noona?”
She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Don’t you start,” she warned and he laughed. “You’re in trouble.”
He nodded, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Yes, yes, I know,” he said, gently bumping her shoulder with his own. “Can I buy you dinner to make up for it?”
She folded her arms across her chest and huffed. “Black Bean Noodles or it’s no deal.”
Jimin laughed. “It’s a deal!”
A sigh left her as she side-eyed him, wondering how she wound up in this situation. She certainly couldn’t be mad at Jimin. He was just doing his job. But this?
Well, this was just something she wasn’t really prepared for. But one thing was certain. She would know in three days what her answer was.
Anastasia could play nice until then.
#bangtanarmynet#hyunglinenetwork#btswriterscorner#smutcentralnet#kmultiverse#bts#bts fanfiction#bts fanfic#bts imagines#bts mafia au#bts crime au#bts mafia#thebiasrekkers#bts the biasrekkers#bts make it right
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The Significant Mistake Regarding Mistakes.
Al Roker has rushed to the defense from his Today co-host Jenna Shrub Hager, that delivered an in tears apology following her 'Hidden Fences' gaffe on the red carpet. . Slang), blunder (laid-back), misjudge, goof (laid-back), fall a clanger (casual), put your feet in this (laid-back), be actually broad of or be actually off the mark I presumed I had slipped up, so I remodelled it. While your oversight might possess affected various other people, it's still around you to shoulder most of the after effects. I guaranteed him that it was not ordinary; that the directory site manager had actually probably miscalculated because of the high volume from stealing that was actually being actually pushed at him.
Definitely, blunders are good for our company - they make our company that our experts are actually as well as often represent our most beneficial treasures from understanding as well as understanding. Understand that your problem along with your children' blunders is in reality a reflection from your trouble coping with your very own oversights; be aware of this as well as handle your very own issues first. You can easily talk to RI Legal representative David Slepkow through heading to Rhode Isle Family Regulation Legal professional or even through naming him at 401-437-1100.
The greatest way to prevent sensation like you created the incorrect choice or even missed a fantastic opportunity is actually to make sure you are entering into the method along with a firm understanding about what that suggests to end up being a resident. One of the best common car repair shop blunders auto proprietors create is failing to offer sufficient info about the trouble. If you have actually been actually committing any one of these discussed errors as well as were unaware regarding their effect, now you recognize just what they were actually carrying out to your internet site.
The mistakes that our company make as Foreign exchange investors are actually commonly absolutely nothing much more than a situation from enabling feeling to sneak in to our trading choices. Various other kings permit their ministers make their oversights for all of them, yet Louis emphasized making the essential mistakes directly. Those first thirty few seconds from discussion with a female are actually important, and one oversight could wreck your possibilities from obtaining anywhere with her. She had an unrivaled gift, especially pen in hand, of squeezing big errors right into little chances.
I will definitely lay out the primary ones to make sure that if you are actually embarking on the task to set up marble flooring ceramic tiles you possess an odds not to create the usual mistakes from the beginning. You and also your children can easily see this movie without fear of excess and also uncomfortable garbage embeded in sensationalism for scores and also piggishness.
Although everyone slips up once in a while, simply do not ignore the significance of appropriate grammar. You created the oversight merely because you found on your own in a placement through which your opinion about a trade was actually being actually challenged as well as you were actually dealing with the unpleasant posture of needing to admit that you were wrong. Massage therapy oversights consist of mistakes in pressure, or not checking in with the client about his/her comfort.
After that various other oversights comply with since this truly isn't the ideal circumstance for us. So have a look at the situation as well as find out whether the scenario was actually one that need to possess been avoided. Among the best popular registration site errors that many people often tend to create is actually to certainly not determine their target audience properly. Inquire existing or even previous colleagues or people outside the company for their point of view on the mistake as well as just what they feel you can do to recover. Call around to a couple of insurance companies for quotes prior to you opt for an insurance provider.
You may re-send the initiative to these receivers using MessageFocus's filter device, with the proper hyperlink apologising for the error and also any sort of aggravation induced. It was a 2003 Ford that had accurately compiled a reasonable couple of kilometers (probably not the greatest choice I had actually made) however I possessed my auto! Some personal trainers make the oversight of following just what they think are going to function most effectively, without understanding the physical exercise motions, procedures as well as tools they might be utilizing. Value your blunders for what they are actually: precious lifestyle sessions that may just be actually know by hand.
Mistakes massage therapy therapists typically make are to either fall under a routine where they provide the exact same massage time and time again, or even to ignore the customer's ask for tension/ concentration as well as instead merely focus on what the specialist feels is necessary. The finest point to carry out is actually accept this as well as try to make up for this; certainly not apologizing for a blunder is one more error when you produce an oversight. Each time you think about an error you've created, this is actually as if you're creating that oversight throughout once more.
Some of my favorite authors, F. W. Boreham, made this observation: Leave your property early in the early morning and also the 1st person you get to know take him or her aside and also write their profile. For the purposes of the article and to remain within the world from my experience, I'm not visiting manage organisation errors that imperil lives, regardless of whether a 10,000 label misprint can easily believe that rigorous. He wound up taking $35,000 dollars coming from me. My very first error was overlooking the indicators, which little bit of mistake ended up developing into an incredibly expensive error for me in the long run.
. Slang), mistake (casual), misjudge, goof (casual), drop a clanger (laid-back), put your feet in it (casual), be wide from or be actually off the mark I believed I had actually slipped up, so I remodelled it. While your mistake could have affected several other people, this's still as much as you to elbow most of the fallout. Given that of the higher volume from plagiarism that was actually being driven at him, I guaranteed him that it was actually certainly not normal; that the directory owner had actually probably produced an error.
Indeed, errors are good for our company - they make us which our team are and often make up our most valuable treasures from wisdom and know-how. Understand that your challenge with your kids' oversights resides in reality a representation from your difficulty managing your own blunders; recognize this as well as cope with your personal concerns first. You may consult with RI Lawyer David Slepkow by mosting likely to Rhode Isle Family members Law Attorney or by calling him at 401-437-1100.
And the commonplace is do not make the very same error twice, profit from your errors. You have got to allow the suggestion that you are human and qualified of creating blunders. As you can observe, having an idea, that failings and also mistakes are bad, is actually not doing you any great. Try to find the weaker areas in your life such as confining beliefs that cause you to make errors and then try to change these confining views, practices, and also activities.
Definitely take the concept that your youngsters are actually performing their absolute best, and that they'll learn quicker concerning their errors if they remain in an atmosphere that takes oversights. Viewpoint what took place as a take in that will certainly boost your practices and also behaviors, so you will not create the exact same oversight again. Here's more information regarding yellow pages personal directory uk (visit this site) look at our own website. Acknowledging oversights suggests toughness: Agreeing to check out, head out on the edge, and also fall short, especially in front of others, suggests someone which relies on herself as well as her ability to succeed. Like I pointed out above, my greatest oversight after passing was tingling and getting an automobile prematurely.
Each Gergen as well as Schoemaker focus on that a lot of employers search for folks that happened as well as created mistakes out in advance. Knowledge being actually to be had only from obvious and certain honest truth, mistake is not an error from our knowledge, yet an oversight from our opinion, giving acceptance to that which is actually not accurate. Every fantastic error possesses a halfway second, a nanosecond when this can be remembered and also perhaps remedied.
When it involves mistakes having an effect on both the edges from multiple accounts, melioration from these types of mistakes may frequently be implemented with the aid of an access created in the journal. You devote daily from your entire lifestyle developing an identification on your own, yet you think that your company does not ought to have one. You can hear or even review this in the news regular about someone's unfortunate story of weakened identification. Errors from simple fact develop when a criminal defendant misunderstood some simple fact that voids an aspect of the unlawful act. Plenty of from my clients, and also individuals that I can be found in contact with, have a problem with accepting oversights.
At times blunders occur given that we just don't have all the info, all the sources or resources necessary for a prosperous end result. Some individuals aim to avoid mistakes through not functioning and also through not handling folks, which is really a large oversight. They invest a great deal of opportunity examining their shoulders, terrified to have opportunities and think even more task for concern they will definitely make oversights. One necessary certification, having said that, is that this error of fact have to be truthful and realistic. Congratulate yourself for what you have actually picked up from these mistakes and also take ins.
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