#(<- his ass will NOT !! keep up with any daily art challenge)

[benetnvsch]

wow,, this really was our bungou stray dogs,,,,

[pretty-little-whorror]

kinktober - public space

ash williams x reader

wc: 3190

a/n: for the four evil dead enjoyers on this site. i promise if i was less employed i would post daily for this like the lord intended.

tags: semi-public sex, fem reader, fingering, p in v sex, safe/protected sex, work sex, fucking your coworkers, ash williams, ash williams and his cheesy ass one liners, and his cheesy ass nicknames, that’s it maybe but i’m tired of looking at this, also not like 100% proofread, like 83%

Ash Williams had been put against his fair share of unpleasantries. Having to kill his sister, dismember his girlfriend, get sent back in time and go toe to toe against evil incarnate. Throughout all that, he still stands by that working retail can easily be just as bad - if not worse - than all that. Ash had been at S-Mart longer than he had ever intended and dealt with more customer bullshit than one could imagine. However, he did manage to enjoy his time there in his own Ash-y way while he was there, meaning knocking boots with any coworker that he could talk his way into the pants of.

With most it was a one and done situation. Most employees stay new before they eventually leave. To Ash, this was the perfect situation - left no time for awkward talking after he had gotten done what he needed. His most recent example had been with Jenny from Arts and Crafts. A red headed hardbody that had stayed at S-Mart maybe three months. As her last two weeks wrapped up, yours began.

The Arts and Crafts department was mostly women, so word about who exactly Ash Williams was got around to you quick. Most of the talk was about his serial womanizing, however a few strange rumours of beheadings and murder were weaved in and out during a handful of gossip sessions between you and your colleagues. You chalked them up to a bad game of telephone given how out of pocket they seemed.

Eventually, you had your first run-in with Ash, and it went as expected. You managed to keep a professional smile and move on after each encounter, however that was not without acknowledging that you couldn’t blame any of the other girls for falling for his routine. He was far from unattractive and his charming demeanor did nothing to repel you. Regardless, you were determined to hold your own.

Your resistance had come as a surprise to Ash, who believes he’s God’s gift to women. However he was never one to back down from a challenge. The harder the hunt the bigger the trophy. Months of passive aggressive flirting and innuendoed bickering had only made him more determined. He had used whatever brain he had to find different ways to push your buttons without an immediate trip to HR. It would usually result with you giving him a playful eye roll before you continued back to whatever you had been doing. Today was no different of an example, but as you found yourself pinned up against a wall in the stock room, whatever exactly had finally gotten you where he wanted had slipped your mind.

This close, Ash’s cheap aftershave was almost intoxicating compared to its normal warning of obnoxious behavior to come. As your tongues pushed against one another, you could taste remnants of the mint gum he had just spit out.

His left hand made quick work to take off the ill fitting uniform as his metal one held you up against the wall. Your fingers made quick work of his own blue work shirt, pushing the fabric off his shoulders, leaving him in a white undershirt.

“Someone’s a little anxious, huh?” He words teased into your ear as his calloused hand snaked its up your back to unclasp your bra.

“If that’s such a problem, I’m more than okay to stop” Your hands dropped from his shoulders as you spoke, looking up at him. He moved his hand back up and grabbed your chin with a chuckle.

“Oh baby, I’ve got you just where I want.” His hot breath tickled against the side of your neck. “I’d be an idiot to let you get away now.” He brought your face up to his with a rough kiss, his hand dropping from your face to finish discarding your bra. He pushed his tongue into your mouth with a groan as he fondled your breast. His thumb rolling gently over your hardened nipple. You sighed into his kiss as he continued to play with your tit. He broke the kiss to look down at your chest, a string of saliva still connecting your mouth the his.


“Fuck sugar, you’ve got the prettiest tits I’ve ever seen.” He continued his ministrations as he used his other arm to raise you up, your legs now straddling his waist opposed to your hips. He quickly moved his face down to your chest, peppering nips over your other breast as his hand continued to roughly knead the other.

“Now we can’t let her sister have all the fun” He winked up at you before latching his mouth onto your nipple. You gasped at the action, the sensation of one hand rolling the hardened bud between his fingers and his mouth sucking and biting on the other causing your eyes to shut.

Ash reveled in your reaction, you could feel him chuckle against your skin as he continued. Your hand went to his head, fingers weaving through his black hair. He gave your tit one final, playful bite before his mouth went back to yours. His hand snaked down to your backside, giving your ass a quick squeeze before he set you down, his lips never leaving yours.

He made quick work of his belt, tossing it to the floor as he finished shrugging off his shirt. As soon as you heard the cloth hit the floor, his hands were on you again, discarding your pants into the growing pile of garments to the side of you. In a moment, he had you up again, straddling his waist. His mouth quickly found its way to your neck, nipping and sucking dark spots into your flesh. You sighed and lolled your head to the side, allowing him further access.

“Baby…” He whispered, his hot breath centimeters away from your ear. “Can you grab my wallet, hm?”

You giggled at the request and rolled your eyes. Understanding the request your arm snaked around to his back, snatching the wallet from his back pocket.

“Well forgive me for bothering princess,” he teased. “My hands are otherwise occupied”

“Hand” you corrected with a playful grin. In response, you felt his metal appendage pinch your ass. You gasped and slapped his arm as his mouth went back to your neck.

“That hurt, jackass!” You scolded as you felt his mouth curl into a smile against your skin.

“Well,” He raised his face back up to yours. He quickly closed the distance between you and brought your lips together. You felt his left hand sneak under the hem of your panties, slowly sneaking up to your core. “If that’s such a problem…”

You sighed as his fingers ghosted over your entrance, picking up your slick on his fingertips, at the same time, his thumb pressed against your swollen clit.

“…I’m more than okay to stop.” He pushed his index finger into your cunt as he repeated your earlier threat. You let out a breathy moan as he pushed his finger in to the knuckle.

“But I’m pretty sure you don’t want that” His voice was low in your ear. Your eyes shut as his middle finger joined the other.

“Fuck…” You murmured as his fingers worked to stretch you out.

“Shit, baby…” He breathed out as he began to curl his fingers against your walls, his thumb beginning to work small circles on your clit. “You’re so fucking wet for me, aren’t ya”

You bit your lip and nodded, your breath getting caught in your throat. Ash chuckled and shook his head.

“I think I want you to say it, baby” His mouth returned to your neck as the pace of his fingers became rougher. You didn’t speak, groaning in response instead, partially annoyed but mostly too lost in the feeling of his fingers inside you to care. You felt him like up a third finger outside your entrance and you arched your back towards him out of instinct.

“You gotta say it first, sugar, gotta tell me whose got you all hot and bothered”

You whined and opened your eyes, pleading up at him. “You, Ash. You….please” you rutted yourself against his hand as you spoke. He looked down at you with lust blown eyes.

“Good girl,” He whispered into your ear as his pushed in a third digit. You moaned at the feeling, his fingers immediately working on curling against that one, perfect spot and working with the pressured movements of his thumb against your clit. You felt the familiar building pressure in your belly as his hand worked to bring you to your climax.

“Now, how about you finish fetching that love glove out, hm?” You sighed. Your shaky hand meeting your other that held his wallet. You looked down, fingering through cards and cash until you pulled out the golden foil. You quickly dropped the leather wallet to the ground to join the other discarded garments.

“Ash…” You let out a whine as he withdrew his fingers to grab the condom. You looked up at him and pouted. He chuckled, glowing in the fact he’s taken your bratty demeanor away and replaced it with desperate begging.

“Oh, just give me a minute, doll face.” He winked as he undid his fly, pulling his pants down enough to allow his hardened dick out of its confines. You were, well you didn’t want to say impressed, but surprised he had the anatomy to match his attitude. You must have been taking a moment too long to look as Ash whistled to get you attention.

“My eyes are up here, sugar pot.” You rolled your own as he went to get the condom out of its wrapper. Before he would tear the foil, you snatched it out of his hand. Deciding to make a show of it, you tore the gold wrapper with you teeth while another hand began to stroke his member. Rolling the leaking beads of precum down his shaft with feathered strokes. You pulled the condom from the wrapper entirely and slowly rolled it down his cock.

“Atta girl,” Ash’s head tilted back with a sigh, he once again brought your lips down to his for a sloppy kiss. You gave him a few more lazy strokes before he adjusted how he held you against the wall in order to line himself up with your entrance. You breathe out a sigh l as the fat bulge of his head finds your swollen, wet hole. Out of instinct, arch into him, desperate him to satisfy your clenching body.

His lips reunite with the side of neck with an amused chuckle. “You’re so needy, hm?” He teased between peppered kissed towards the crook of your neck, teasingly pushing himself against your entrance.

His metal hand gripped your hips firmly as he pushed you down onto his achingly hard cock. Your eyes slammed shut with a carnal moan as he fully sheathed himself inside of you.

“You stretch so good for me, baby” He groans as he revels in the feeling of your sex enveloping his, your soft walls like a perfect fitting glove. You roll your hips against his, drunk on the euphoria of him buried inside to the hilt.

“Fuck, Ash-“ Your head falls back, hitting the wall behind you with a thud. He drags his cock from inside you before coaxing himself back in. You whine, working your best to sink as far down as possible in tandem with his movements.

His pace starts sultry; fucking you deeply and purposefully, his thumb resting on top of your thigh as he brought you down on him until you could feel his pubes tickle against your lower belly.

Your hands found their place, one flush against his chest and the other grabbing into his shoulder; promising crescent shaped bruises to form in the following hours from where your nails dug into his flesh.

He adjusts his hold on your hips as he picks up his pace, bouncing you on his cock. “Can’t believe I can finally fuck you.” He purred in your ear, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. His left hand moves between you, his thumb dancing over your clit andhis fingers circling where he pushed into you, getting it coated with the cocktail of your wetness and his precum that dripped out of you.

His hand then raised to the underside of your chin; his thumb lifting your head as his fingers prodded against your languidly parted lips. You further opened your mouth, allowing for the gentle intrusion. Your tongue swirled around the digits as you looked up through hooded lashes into his eyes. Making a show of cleaning off his calloused fingers. If Ash had an ounce less of self control he could have finished then and there.

He instead chuckled, his stare fixated on your mouth as you sucked his fingers. “Look at you, getting all filthy for me , hm?” His pace transformed into rough and desperate thrusts, his swollen head kissing your cervix. He withdrew his fingers from your mouth, his hand meeting his other at your hips, changing the angle he pounded into you just enough for him to be fucking directly into your sweet spot. An aching moan escaped your mouth at the change; allowing anyone who was close enough an exact idea of the wanton situation you were in.

“You sound so fucking hot for me baby, but the last thing I want right now is for someone to take this pussy away from me.” Normally, your response would be to chide him for pointing out the obvious accompanied by an eye roll. However, you just bit down on your reddened bottom lip and nodded, arching down on him further, desperate for him to fuck an orgasm out of you.

Ash's thrusts became rough and desperate, his length hitting your cervix with each powerful stroke. The change in angle caused an electric surge of pleasure to shoot through your body, your stifled moans threatening an exposing volume.

His rough and quickened pace only added fuel to the fire, you could feel the intensity building, your body desperately responding to his every movement in an attempt to bring your orgasm on quicker.

You clenched around him, your walls pulsating with need as you arched your back, meeting his thrusts with fervor. The overwhelming sensations coursing through you pushed you closer to the edge.

With each unrestrained thrust, you felt the pleasure intensify, the tension coiling within you like a tightly wound spring. Your moans threatened to grow louder as you did your best to stay quiet-biting down on your lower lip hard enough to draw blood as your head lolled aside, allowing him access to return his mouth to your neck. He callously nipped and sucked at the reddened skin as your nails dug into his skin as you desperately sought release.

As the pleasure reached its peak, you let out a guttural cry, your body convulsing in the throes of your orgasm. Waves of ecstasy washed crassly over you, leaving you breathless and completely consumed by the sensation.

Ash continued to pound into you, fucking you through as you were thrown into rapture. He felt the familiar burning of his own orgasm approaching. His final thrusts were rough and desperate as he finally came, burying himself deep inside you.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, his lips trailed back to yours, taking one last opportunity to taste you.

“You think you’re okay to stand, sweet cheeks?” He asked, his voice soft as his hand trailed down to your ass, gently kneading the soft flesh as he spoke. With a nodded response from you, he slowly pulled out from you. Out of instinct, you whined at the sudden empty feeling, still drunk on the sensation of his cock stuffed into you. He chuckled at your mewl.

“Don’t worry sugar, as soon as I can fuck that tight pretty pussy of yours again, I will. That’s an Ash Williams guarantee. ” He patted your ass and you unwrapped your legs from his waist, placing a foot on the cool ground. You almost fell to the floor as you attempted to put your weight on it. Ash’s metal hand still on your waist, he was able to keep you from falling completely. He smiled, relishing the fact he had fucked you good enough you couldn’t walk.

Knowing exactly what had made his lips curl into such a shit-eating grin, you flicked your eyes up.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” You bent down to pick up your long discarded clothes, the cool metal of his hand still on your waist. “They just fell asleep is all.”

“Whatever you say, baby” He winked, turning his attention to disposing of the used rubber, rolling it off his softened cock; careful not to make a mess. He found some garbage to toss it in and pulled his pants back up over his crotch. You cringed at the thought of whoever had to take out that trash later tonight.

“What time are you out tonight?”

The question came as a surprise to you. You raised a brow as you worked to put your pants back on.

“Six…” You responded, unsure of the intent of his question. He wasn’t gonna wine and dine you - or whatever the Ash equivalent is that was - certainly. You had never heard any report of him attempting anything along the lines of that with anyone before. “What time is it anyway?”

He turned his wrist over, looking at the watch face. “Ten after.”

“Oh,” You raised your brows, surprised you had been…occupied, long enough to round out your shift.

“You?”

“I’m out at eight.”

“Oh, well okay”

The dialogue was shallow as you finished reassembling your work clothes.

You turned to him; “Why..?”

Ash looked at you with a cheeky grin, raising his eyes from his watch just enough to look up and meet your eyes.

"We should grab some drinks after work, have a bit of fun. I'll buy, I'm feeling generous tonight."

“And here I’ve been told chivalry is dead” Your put your shirt back over your head in time with the sarcastic response.

"I promise you, my intentions are anything but chivalrous when I tell you I'll be paying." He said with a grin and tacky wink. You decided to roll your eyes playfully opposed to wasting your words.

"I can take that as a maybe?" Ash asked. "Don't disappoint me, darlin'."

“Yeah yeah fine, whatever. Where?” You folded your arms across your chest, waiting for his reply.

"The Elk, we can sit at the bar, talk all flirty like." Ash said suggestively. "Nothing better than a bottle of whiskey on the table and a pretty lady beside it."

“Just pick me up after your shift, yeah?”

"After my shift," He confirmed with a smirk. "But just so I know, that's a yes then?"

“Deduce that one yourself, jackass.” You walked away with a smirk, not sure if volunteering more of your time with Ash would pan out in your favor.

[miinomo]

my little maid.

✿ pairings - Erwin x Maid Fem! (Chubby) Reader

contains - (18+ content MDNI) Infidelity, Body worship, Age gap, Creampie, Dark Content

✿ Synopsis - A bad day could change in moments of Erwin coming home to his perfect maid. One that could never deny him the pleasure that his cold, unloving wife denies him on a daily basis. 

You stood in one of the bigger guest bedrooms while staring at yourself in the mirror. It was a Venetian mirror that had lacquered wood finished in dark red with a high gloss varnish coat. It was one of the many expensive furnishings that caught your eye in the Smith’s household. It was like there was always something to be looking at. All of their furniture seemed straight out of a film, or a novel. The type of couches or beds you would see in a mansion on the big screen. 

When you were first hired by Mrs. Smith, you weren’t as great of a cleaner as you are now. It was tough-- Getting used to cleaning so many rooms, and so thoroughly at that. But you picked up a good technique rather quickly. And for that, the Smith’s were thankful. Their home always seemed to accumulate a lot of dust in such a short period, so without you, they would surely be suffering something fierce in the realm of allergies.

The uniform, however, was something Mr. Smith’s wife did not approve of. The skirt was too short, the stockings- too revealing. Whenever she would come home and see you dressed so whorishly it made her skin crawl. But looking at yourself, it felt nice. Even though you weren’t a model, you were a bit thicker than most women that society deemed beautiful- Mr. Smith never made you feel that way, like you weren’t good enough. He looked at you as if you were the only woman in the world. 

His words affected you more than he would ever know- “You started as a blank canvas. Everything about you, down to your stretch marks is beautiful. And I will tell you every day until you believe it yourself.” That was what he said to you the first time the two of you had been intimate. You were nervous and shy for him to see your unclothed body. But he insisted, he wanted to worship all of you, not just the parts that anyone could see on a day-to-day basis.

Abruptly the front door was slammed and it caused your heart to drop into your stomach. The sudden sound had frightened you- you were so caught up in reminiscing on past experiences with Mr. Smith and didn’t notice it was around the time he usually came home. The loud noise echoed through the house, which was a common occurrence anywhere with long hallways and high ceilings. “Mr. Smith?” You called after walking to the doorway, wanting to be sure the person that entered the premises was truly who you were expecting. 

“Yes, y/n. It’s me.” His stern, yet comforting voice announced. “Come downstairs when you have a moment.” The tone in his voice suggested two possibilities. Either he and his wife were fighting again, or he had a bad day at work. Making your way downstairs you could see him sitting at the dining table with his head resting in his hands. You were guessing it was the latter due to it being directly after business hours that he looked so unhappy. 

“Yes. Work was quite hectic today, but it was also Marleen. She was constantly calling me while I was in the middle of a presentation with a new client. Needless to say, it did not go well.” Erwin looked at you as you stood at the opposite side of the table. “Please sit y/n. I would love your company. Dusting can wait.” Although Erwin was venting to you- your chest felt warm. It was always the same feeling you got when looking at him. He held himself so well. His posture, so upright. Everything about him just screamed ‘gentleman.’ 

The sound of your flats tapping against the white tiles was what made Mr. Smith’s attention come back to you. “How was work, Mr. Smith? Was it as unpleasant as it seemed?” You approached the oaky table which had hand-carved details of the intricate marquetry and like the mirror from upstairs; it was also finished with a high gloss varnish. 

The ocean blue eyes that you loved to look into were staring you down as his warm hand enveloped yours. “I missed you so much. You have no idea how long today felt. And now that I’m here with you it’s like a weight was taken off of my shoulders.” He confided in you. The world felt so quiet- usually, you could hear the birds chirping, the winds howling, or even the neighbors doing yard work. But not right now. Not while Mr. Smith sat so close, telling you all he needed to feel better was to take one look at you. 

“I missed you too Mr. Smith.” You smiled at him while he rubbed his thumb over your hand. “y/n, I’ve told you at least a dozen times you may call me Erwin.” His voice was so calm. Every time he said your name it felt like your heart was going to burst. “I know you have, but it’s easier for me to slip up if I get too comfortable.” Silence filled the room for a moment. Bringing up the fact that you two were hiding your love for each other was never easy. Even if he was in an unhappy marriage, it felt wrong sometimes. 

“I understand.” Erwin looked away from you for only a moment before directing his gaze straight back to you. “Would you accompany me upstairs? I would love your help with something.” Just from the tone in his voice, you knew where this was going. He needed relief, and you weren’t planning to deny him. “Of course, Mr. Smith.” You got up from your seat and followed him through the hall. 

The two of you walked up the stairs together- you following behind him while he held onto the railing. “We’re going to the master bedroom.” He instructed before taking a right when he reached the top of the stairway. The halls were decorated with many expensive pieces of art. Paintings, teaware, and framed botanicals hung on the brown walls. The white marbled tile of the floor accentuated the brown in such a pleasant way. 

Erwin turned around to look at you after entering through the doorway. “You’re so beautiful.” He rested his hands on your hips and pulled you closer to him. Bringing you to his chest and looking down at you, he smiled. “Having you here with me... I couldn’t ask for anything more.” He leaned down, encasing your lips in his. His kisses were always so passionate. You could feel the care and love behind his desperate groans into your mouth. 

“I love you.” Your eyes widened and a loud ringing came to your ears. Mr. Smith just confessed his love to you. You both mutually knew that you cared deeply for one another, but hearing him say those words was just something you couldn’t have imagined. The words were so sweet. “Please, y/n. Let me have you.” He ran his hands down to your ass and gripped it lightly. You looked into his eyes and without hesitance, you gave him your answer. “You don’t even have to ask.” 

And with that, Erwin picked you up continuing to kiss you with as much passion as he could. His tongue explored the inside of your mouth and fought against your own for dominance. Although you would never actually try to overtake him. You loved how much of a lead he took when the two of you were intimate. He walked with you in his arms, slowly making his way to the bed. It was the largest bed in the house, with lilac satin sheets. They were cool and soft against your thighs when he placed you down onto them. 

“Mr. Smith, are you sure we should have sex in here? This is...” The thought of his wife sleeping in this bed later tonight was clouding your head. “We will just have to be sure we don’t make a mess.” He breathed against your plush lips before kissing you yet again. Your hands snaked their way up around his neck, touching the back of his head. His haircut was a bit scratchy due to the undercut and shave he opted for. 

“Erwin.” You moaned into his mouth as his large hand made its way up to your inner thigh slowly. He gripped onto your skin, pushing his thumb down just enough to apply a bit of pain. “I love how much of you there is to love.” He pulled back from the kiss and smiled endearingly while looking into your eyes. “You’re perfect. And I love you.” Your heart skipped a beat from his comments. “I love you too Erwin.” 

With your confession, Erwin found in himself that he was no longer able to be patient. He would usually prep you for him, with his tongue or fingers. But he couldn’t wait any longer. He needed to be inside of you. “Are you wet enough for my cock, y/n?” He breathed against your ear while he focused on undoing his belt. Tossing it to the side of the room, he proceeded to unzip his pants- pulling his cock through his trousers. 

You could feel his member poking the inside of your legs while he kissed your neck, occasionally biting down onto your skin. “Fuck, I want you.” You hissed through your teeth as he nibbled your ear. His breath was warm as was his tongue, which ran down the side of your neck before he placed light and feathery kisses along the trail of saliva he left behind. “Then you’ll have me.” He groaned before pushing his cock deep inside of you. 

No amount of slick was ever enough to make taking him easy. It always felt like he was assaulting your insides when he thrust so deeply into you. Stretching you more than anyone else ever had. Erwin let out a breathy moan. “You’re so tight.” During sex, your holes always squeezed him just right. To the point where your pussy would make forming sentences a challenge. You always made him feel so good. He planted his feet firmly into the ground while you laid on your back, looking up to the ceiling. He grabbed ahold of your thighs and pushed your legs up, resting them onto his shoulder before he began pounding into you.

The ivory frills on your skirt tickled his skin as he kept his rhythm. You gasped every time you felt him ram into your cervix. You felt your eyes start to roll back into your head; his veiny cock was almost too much for you. Continuously mixing up your insides, each vein pulling at your inner walls. He grabbed onto your hips harshly, keeping you in place while he brought your pussy to the base of his cock. The two of you were moaning so loudly it started to echo throughout the house. “shit, y/n. Fuck, you’re squeezing, so fucking tight.” His voice was shaky. 

Your hands searched for anything to hold onto while your body rocked back and forth on the bed. Finally settling on the soft and luxurious satin sheets. You balled them into your fists and cried out his name repeatedly. “I’m going to cum, Erwin.” Your walls clenched his cock so tight, not wanting it to leave with each pump. Your legs began to shake and fall from his shoulders but he grabbed ahold of your thighs. Holding them in place and speeding up the pace of him ramming into your pussy. Deeper than ever. 

“Don’t spill any of my cum, baby. It’d be a pain to get out of these sheets.” He chuckled as his hips spastically jerked forward. He groaned and leaned his head back as his warm seed shot into you. Your pussy was filled up with his cum and your cheeks were bright pink. It was so thick, so much. You were scared you wouldn’t be able to hold all of it in. He pulled out of you slowly, making sure you put his thumb on your hole when his cock finally exited your gaping hole. “Should I cork you? Make sure not a drop escapes your beautiful pussy?” He smirked as he looked over at a bottle of red wine, sitting on the granite countertop of his dresser. 

You thought for a moment and couldn’t help but lick your lower lip. “Please cork me.” Your response surprised him, this time he was the one who was shocked. His eyebrows raised slightly but he kept his smug expression. “Oh? If you keep all of it in till the end of your shift tonight, maybe I’ll reward you. My beautiful, little maid.” 

✿✿✿ Author’s Notes ✿✿✿ - Although I don’t normally write a note at the bottom of my pieces I wanted to address something. I’ve been seeing a few people that I follow having body shaming anons coming into their ask boxes, and that’s not cool. I am all for body positivity and feeling good about yourself. But there’s a difference when your tone is bragging, versus being happy in your own skin. And I am a bit on the chubbier side myself and want anyone that is uncomfortable in their own skin to know that you’re beautiful and loved. Usually my writing is for all body types, but I wanted this one to be a bit more personal for us Chubby girls. I hope you all still enjoyed this piece, and can all one day love who you are and what you look like. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and don’t let anyone ever put you down. Thank you. 

[clearwillow]

Fluff Prompts. 12 please! Either way that strikes you :)

@ruddcatha I knew once I read the prompt for #12 which would be perfect, so I wrote a little piece that would take place early on in A Not So Far Quest!

Also did a little art to go with it because it just fit and I don't really have any art for this AU so that's my excuse (I'll add it to AO3 once I get a proper title and just start a collection of fluff prompts if these continue, so until then, tumblr exclusive)

12. “Can you say that again?” “Were you not listening?” “No I was, I just like hearing your voice.”

-------------------------

Inuyasha wasn’t a very sociable person. He had a close circle of people he’d openly admit he tolerated. As a stretch he’d even include Sango’s annoying friend Kagome in that circle. He did like getting a rise out of her, and that – in its barest form in his opinion – was a form of socializing. It was also a personal challenge to see if she’d follow through on the warning that he’d received from Sango back when they were just getting to knew each other.

“You keep talking shit, you’re gonna get hit.”

She hadn’t, so either Sango was exaggerating or he hadn’t found the right trigger yet.

But his social circle was steadily growing. Those two girls in Far Quest were quickly becoming decent conversation – when all four of them were playing, that is. More and more he was noticing that Miroku was opting out of raids in favor of going out with Sango, which – fine. That made sense. They were a thing. That meant that they went out and did things. Even if “going out” to do things meant locking themselves in Miroku’s room and doing thingsthat they didn’t try to keep quiet about.

What befuddled him was that Coral Huntress was also gone on those nights. Maybe it was just coincidence but he wasn’t stupid. Inuyasha had his suspicions but he couldn’t prove anything, which was driving him mad, because if he made a claim that maybe Miroku’s girlfriend wasn’t being totally upfront about all of her hobbies without evidence he’d just get laughed at. And he sure as hell couldn’t make that claim in front of Kagome. She’d probably laugh the hardest at learning that he was playing a massive multiplayer online game.

That would be the worst thing to happen.

“So there I am, I’ve walked down the hallway of the science wing. I had made it to the door mind you, and no one had said a word about it!”

“They didn’t?” He was trying hard not to laugh, but Birdsong caught him.

“It’s okay. I can laugh about it now,” she said. Her character on the screen cast healing as Inuyasha’s took a hit with the poison from the orc blade that had hit him in the shoulder. “I gave every junior level student in that hallway a good look at my underwear because my skirt got tucked in my panty hose.”

Inuyasha did let out a bark of laughter then, and he could hear the melodic laugh of Birdsong through his headphones. He liked that laugh. In a small way, it almost reminded him of Kagome’s laugh. The problem was, he rarely got to hear her laugh. She was usually scowling at him. Or rolling her eyes. Which was disappointing, because she also had a pretty smile.

“You alright over there?” Birdsong asked, jerking him from his thoughts. “That orc was coming right for you, dude! How did you not see it?”

“Lost in thought,” he said lamely. “T-thanks for catching that.”

The area in the current dungeon they were exploring was cleared of any spawns, which gave them the opportunity to check their stores and do any damage control before they moved to the next room. Inuyasha opened up his stats panel to see how close he was to leveling up again – not too far off if he kept this pace – when Birdsong spoke up.

“Not that it’s any of my business, but can I ask if it was good thoughts or bad thoughts that got you so distracted?”

“You’re fine. It’s…uh…not really good or bad, exactly?”

“It’s that girl you’ve been talking about, isn’t it?” she asked curiously.

“Damn is it that easy to tell?” Inuyasha sighed, leaning back in his chair.

Birdsong’s avatar moved around the screen as he sat back and watched. She was practicing some of her newly acquired techniques and since they weren’t on a timer for this dungeon to be completed, he didn’t see a problem with it. Plus he was feeling incredibly lazy.

“Not really,” she replied. “But we’ve talked so much about our days that it tends to come up, so naturally it was one of my first guesses. Did she say something that bothered you?”

“Worse.” How he found himself divulging his chronicles in pissing off Kagome on a daily basis he didn’t know, but Birdsong ran with it and matched him for stories of some jerk of a guy she dealt with. It was their weird way of commiserating apparently. “She didn’t even acknowledge me more than an annoyed look today.”

There was a sympathetic murmur that came from her end, and in most cases that would have annoyed him because to hell with other’s pity, but from Birdsong it wasn’t like that. “You say anything to her at all? Even a hello?”

“Tried. That’s how I got the look.” The hanyou hoped that pathetic whine in his voice just then didn’t come through the microphone. “I didn’t even say anything bad, either! I said ‘Hey’. How is that me being rude, cause she looked like she didn’t want to deal with me?”

Birdsong hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe she just wasn’t in the best mood today? It might not have had anything to do with you at all?”

“Feh. I’m always the cause of her bad days, according to her.”

“Not mine,” Birdsong supplied. “Not anymore, at least.”

Inuyasha’s ears perked up. Had he heard right? Did she really say that? He had to be sure. “Can you say that again?”

There was a pause, and a confused voice asked, “Were you not listening?”

‘Shit. Play it cool. Don’t let her think you’re a sap.’ “No I was, I just like hearing your voice.” ‘Well that was the dumbest thing you could possibly say and now –’

“Oh,” came her soft reply, and if he had to bet money on it, she might have actually been blushing by the one of her voice. “I like hearing your voice too,” she said shyly.

He had to make her laugh before it got awkward, cause then she’d bail on the game and he’d be stuck asking for help from some 12-year old that was gonna talk smack all night. “I like hearing mine too,” he grinned, pleased when she started to giggle. Somehow it made his heart feel lighter, and he wondered if he could ever get that same feeling from talking with Kagome. “So…you ready to get back to work?”

“Do you mean saving your ass?”

“No I meant being the target so I can save yours.”

He heard an irritated groan and grinned widely. Oh yes, things were going good tonight.

Fluff Prompts List

[heresyourramen]

Firebird - Choi Yeonjun x (Fem) Reader

Part of the Hamratia Collaboration by @delicatewerewolfsoul and @sleepylixie.

The artist is Choi Yeonjun, Greek god is Apollo and the deadly sin, pride.

Genre: Greek mythology/ ballet school AU, Angst, villain YN.

Word Count: 11 305

Warnings: Mentions of injury, swearing, the word boobs once, backstabbing (because that's showbizz babyyy), Villain YN, the tiktok audio "gatekeep, gaslight, girlboss" comes to mind, and the crippling pressure of never being perfect that is often found in any sport.

Description: Cupid might never be a victor when apposing Apollo in archery but he had still managed to bring the Sun God to his knees with a single of his arrows.

and he will continue to torment him for his prideful claims, for Daphne's heart will forever be pierced by Cupids led arrow.

Yeonjun, a principle dancer at the Laurier School of Ballet, had a lot going for him, he was from a well respected family within the performing arts community and had been granted a scholarship many in the school would envy him for. Sadly he did have one thing that was not going in his favour a rather tragic and unsuccessful love life, riddled with beautiful woman and men, even the lovers of his closest friends.

Until he one day finds himself Infatuated with a prize he could not attain.

A Firebird.

Honestly you could never tell if Yeonjun was actually naïve or just played dumb.

Girls and boys flocked to him and he seemed to fawn over whom ever piqued his interest most but it never lasted longer than a month, or someone cheated on someone or the relationship ended out being a fiery crash of hatred and venomous bouts in hallways with wide eyed audiences. Somehow he always acted as if he had gotten the short end of the stick, for a week forlorn before another beauty of sorts would be the centre of his attention. Sweet melodies would once again come from where ever he worked, a soft tenor promising spring and love and hope.

You steered clear.

If it wasn't an emotional roller-coaster enough being a double major, his affections would seem to be. No, you'd much rather work on your stubborn unsupple hips and relevés you always get scolded for than listen to whatever hot mess he had going on.

And god was it a loud hot mess. Your headphones blasting Dua Lipa wasn't even drowning out the heated argument between Yeonjun and his dance partner, seated in the corner of the massive practice room by the only corner without mirrors and filled with shelves for bags you keep your eyes on anything but the pair. You turn to face Jungkook who stood stretching as well but with none of the concerns of being caught as he watches curiously a humoured smirk on his lips. You had been lucky enough to be paired with the groups teaching assistant, just as well you were sure half the boys in your class couldn't even lift you. He senses your stare and looks down at where your sat opening up your hips his smirk stretching to a full blown smile, great at least someone was enjoying this spectacle. A shame really that the two strongest dancers in the class were paired up together for the showcase that would double as evaluations, it meant none of the other junior dancers would stand a chance at impressing anyone but also it was a shame that they also happened to be exes. You huff a small sigh through your nose as you get up from the floor and remove the headphones to put in your bag and to pull out the black training tutu. Jungkook had suggested it considering the challenge of the chosen dance itself that from the start you get used to how it would affect your movements, when he'd announced that the firebird pas de deux you'd nearly spilt more than half your coffee on him. It was insane, you'd thought, you were much better suited for contemporary styles and the Modern Jazz ensemble but Jungkook was patient and understanding most of the time as well as stern when necessary and since the performance would also affect his station in the school you didn't argue. Your fingers guide it over your stockings and over your leotard before fiddling where it had bent funny or folded. You turn towards the door a scowl set on your face at who ever barged in, you had booked the studio for the next three hours no one was supposed to come watch you clumsily stumble into Jungkook's arms.

A boy stood in the door way, eyes wide as it landed on you, you recognised him from around campus a friend of Yeonjuns and a classmate Seo Changbin. He wasn't all that tall but his black t-shirt was stretched taught over a broad chest and big arms, gaze sharp even hidden under his long dark fringe that swept over his forehead and eyes. His gaze matched yours and the unimpressed frown he wore disappeared for only a moment as it fell on you softening slightly as he held up a hand in a small wave to you and your partner respectfully. You dip your head in a nod as greeting before another angry curse draws his attention and yours to the bickering couple.

"Yeonjun-ah!" his voice was loud and sharp enough to make the two dancers stop.

"We will be late for class AGAIN, if you don't move your annoyingly firm ass NOW!" Yeonjun's eyes flickered to the clock above the doorway his friend had just burst through and cursed under his breath before running towards you and Jungkook to grab his bags leaving his dance partner to angrily stomp her way after him. You sweep past them in a wide arc and into the centre of the room as you test out the silky pointes arching up onto your toes and back down as you wait for Jungkook to plug in his phone to the sound system and start the music. He turns and nods at you and you take a step towards the edge of the room aware of the curious gazes on your figures. You stand ready and as soon as the whirring clarinet starts you start your leaping entrance before a twirling arabesque. One thing you cursed Jungkook for was that he managed to choose a dance that had you constantly moving. The door shut and announced they'd left leaving you to fight your way through the next three hours of strenuous technicalities.

Yeonjun would've applauded himself for his dress of choice the baggy grey sweatpants he wore over his tights and tight black t shirt he'd been training in had made it possible to switch out his own ballet shoes for some Jordan's easily enough before Changbin could pull him out of the studio by his hair. They managed to slide into the back seats of the lecture hall for music theory just on time.

"What's the dancer that was waiting with Jungkook Sunbae for you two to stop squabbling's name again?" Changbin murmured his gaze transfixed to the page of his notebook as he doodled away trying to force himself into a state of calm.

"Who?" Yeonjun frowned he hadn't cared much for the pair that waited, he was fully distracted by the small mistakes that his partner was making and would cost him his place as top student and his scholarship no doubt. Changbin looked up at him, any ounce of sympathy for his crappy partner and whatever patience he had left dissipated into the stuffy air of the dark lecture hall, how could he have so little care for the people around him daily? He'd seen you in the hallways with either a massive canvas bag or a baggy sweater over a leotard and skirt and always with a tight slicked back bun that emphasized a deadly serious gaze that often rolled back at the sight of them or rather Yeounjun and whomever he had hanging onto him that day.

"Oh you mean Y/N ?" Yeonjun eyes widened innocently, with the realization. Changbin nodded and Yeonjun shrugged his gaze lowering along with his posture as he slid down to slump his tired body into his chair.

"What about her?"

"Well... aren't they in our class? What do you think their presentation will look like? " Changbin inquired curiously as he watched his friend shrug again his eyes still trained at the slideshow the teacher was babbling over.

"Jungkook is the teaching assistant but he'd managed to pair up with a sub-par ballet dancer, poor guy. Her ankles are weak and she's too contemporary, her theatricality is commendable but mostly just makes her routines seem sloppy, why?" Yeonjun said with a small tug at the corner of his lips as he swept the dark black tresses from his eyes that never left their pacing lecturer. Because of this he missed the way Changbins irritated smirk dropped away, his lips pulling into an ugly straight line, an expression that had started showing more recently. He would agree there was room for an improvement, but there was for everyone in their class even the principle beside him. His temper was on a very short leash with his friend as he watched his arrogance grow after every break up. Yeonjun's love life was tragic, truly, and he'd feel bad for his friends pitiful attempts at relationships if he wasn't such a goddamn prick about it. Yeonjun had managed to date many a girl or boy that even his friends had some sort of interest in, always managing it in a way that made it seem he couldn't help himself and Changbin was tired of it, exhausted not even getting a chance. That small little proud smirk was still stuck on his friends face when he inquired once more.

"Are you not in the slightest bit worried that they might manage to out stage you?" Yeonjun had to muffle his loud 'Ha' with a cough as he snickered to himself his friends gaze growing darker as his frown deepened.

"Of course not but its cute that you worry for me 'Bin." Yeonjun answered with a sweet smile and a pat on the shoulder before focusing back on the class.

That would be it, Changbin thought, Yeonjuns own pride would be his downfall.

He'd make sure of it.

"Hi! Y/N, right?" the strange voice announced its presence loudly from beside the studio door, you're startled enough to drop the empty water bottle and your history book. To tired to even worry about it, you simply raise your hands over your eyes and sigh deeply, brushing the few loose strands that had managed to escape from the the gel and hairpins during the the gruelling three hour training session out of your face. One would imagine after two weeks your body would be used to it but alas. Every part of you ached, actually it was a relief not holding that 10 ton excuse of a book and you knew if you didn't open your eyes right away you'd fall asleep right there standing. You let your arms fall to your sides and raise your eyes to the culprit who stood holding your bottle and book a soft concern gracing his dark features.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mind to startle you like that." He apologizes but doesn't make a move to hand you back your belongings.

"It's okay I'm pretty jumpy by nature." You wave him off not even attempting to muster the frustration you probably should have felt.

"Have you been training for the last couple of hours?" Changbins brow furrows and his eyes trail over your figure clad in some sweatpants and your training jumper. You nod slowly and pulling your phone out of your bag to check the time you'd ran over time, since no one had booked the slot for the studio after. Jungkook stepped out of the studio dark hair swept back as he pulled on his own black hoodie.

"Oh Jungkook, just who I'm looking for." Changbin says and he rests a soft hand on your elbow as he gently guides you out of the doorway his other still holding your stuff before falling away as he stands beside you

"Changbin Madame Jeong spoke to me earlier. Are you sure about swapping places?" Jungkook gets straight to the point, his brow furrowing. Changbin couldn't blame him, being evaluated on your dance ability and your ability to choreograph a piece from scratch was completely different.

"It's not like I have much choice, Tzuyu won't be back anytime soon with a torn ACL." Changbin hears your shocked gasp, and turns his head to observe your hand over your mouth and eyes wide at the shocking news. With classes being suspended for the rest of the semester and such a large group few people had known of her injury.

"What's going to happen now?" You ask eyes wide with concern as you look between the older man and your classmate.

"Jeong had suggested Changbin take my place in your performance and I participate in my own years evaluation." Jungkook said with an apologetic expression down at you, your tired features barely even managed a proper frown.

"What?"

"It's still a month and Changbin is one of the best dancers in the group, you'll be fine." Jungkook wore a guilty expression as he scratched the back of his head as he watched your shoulders hunch over, folding in on yourself as you start to slowly loose hope.

"Hey! Don't do that, you know I'll even come help out if you need me!" he grabs you by your shoulders and force you to look at him, he doesn't break the stare down until you nod. You were furious, not only was this inconvenient but it would effect the outcome of the rest of your studies at this school. But you couldn't even muster any of the energy you needed to be upset about it after a gruelling session.

"Whatever," You shake Jungkooks hands off your shoulders and take your stuff from Changbin who'd been watching the exchange with a nervous nibble at his plump bottom lip.

"We're doing Firebird, I'm sure Jungkook will inform you of how atrocious I am." You turn on your heal and walk away because honestly, fuck that shit.

"Hey I think we got off on the wrong foot I'm Cha-" Changbin stood leaning behind the studio door waiting for you to show up. You had contemplated not showing, because who cares at this point? Not Jungkook, not Changbin and certainly  not that piece of work director Jeong.

"I know who you are, don't worry." You interrupt him as you fiddle with a hair pin that was practically indented into your skull with the way you had furiously stabbed it into the bun. Changbin to his credit musters the decency to look guilty.

"This isn't ideal for either of us but I have faith in us." Changbin says softly and you nearly bark a laugh in his face, you instead settle for a scoff. Yeah, sure he'd be fine he was a top student, technically near perfect almost better than Yeonjun only lacking the physical stature that would be needed to accommodate taller partners, where you're bottom tier at least in ballet, a charity case and no doubt a relief to be rid off, Jungkook was probably ecstatic knowing you weren't his responsibility anymore.

"Yeah, we'll see how you feel after the next three hours buddy." You pat him on his shoulder before brushing past him into the studio at 12 sharp. Changbin with a frustrated glower follow you, you weren't going to make this easy.

He steps in to the sound of Yeonjun's ex yelling at his friend and he can't help but feel a little better about this mess, he doubted you'd snap at him like that.

Your judgement was obvious, your face like an open book as you observed the pair going at each other. But it wasn't just disapproval, it was a corner of a lip tilted in a smile laced with pity. Changbin just wasn't sure if it was for Yeonjun or his partner.

He guessed it was the latter rather, by his past experience of being pinned with a scrutinious stare every time he was with his friend.  You weren't part of the plan in anyway, in fact he really was praying to what ever immortal beings existed in the realms of the heavens the two of you would perform a passable performance at least, but there was always another way to throw Yeonjun of his game.

Love.

His ex was playing a big role in her reluctance to cooperate and he didn't even have to do much about it, in fact Changbin didn't have to do anything about it but that wouldn't be enough. It wasn't Yeonjuns first challenging partner, he'd manage, highly stressed but he'd still  do his best.

"Changbin?" Your voice breaks his stare from the pair as they train through their rendition of Apollo and one of the muses dance and he notes that you're already in the black tutu over your not so traditional leotard. It wouldn't be a problem if the zip that ran down it's front was done up like most other students wore it. He swallowed hard, he didn't blame you, he'd heard that leotards were constricting, he just didn't realize it would do a better job than a push up bra.

"If you're done could we possibly get them out of here?" He doesn't miss the small smile that graces your features before turning around to face the mirrors and finish your stretching. Changbin clears his throat as he quickly changes out of his sneakers.

"Yeonjun, times up!" His voice booms over the music and shocks you enough to come up from the back bend you'd been stretching in, unwinding a supple arch until you're stood straight again, only to be met with a different sharp gaze from under black strands. Yeonjuns dark eyes are trailing over your torso as he makes his way over towards his bag, you keep your face straight as your fingers find the zip on your front, you taunt him a small drag down, his tongue sliding over his full bottom lip, before zipping it all the way up.  You keep yourself from laughing at the way the softest pink dusts his cheeks and his eyes divert as you pass him, you'd think they'd never seen a pair of boobs before the way these boys were acting.

"You ready?" Changbin calls over, his brow raised. He hadn't missed the brief exchange and you meet his gaze.

"I am, but do you know the choreography?" Your brows raise and Changbin gives you a smug little smirk as  answer and starts the music.

"ohmygod you're worse than Jungkook!" You babble. You swear you can hear your hips breaking as Changbin pushes down through his arms keeping your knees on the worn hardwood floor. Solid, warm muscle is pressing into your back as he leans over you.

"Stop complaining it's only a few more seconds." He huffs out, but when you tilt your head up you're met with a grin through your watery eyes. The timer goes off and you suck in a deep breath as Changbin lets you relax out of the pose. The session had been hard, he'd managed to point out technicalities that Jungkook had managed to miss or rather chose to ignore when he suggested cooldown your legs nearly gave out, it was outrageous the best modern dance program at a fucking ballet school. You weren't built for this. You lie back with a huff and watch as Changbin sets another timer.

"More?" This was crazy and he shakes his head with playful grin.

"It's only helping you." He points out and takes your now sweatpants clad legs and straighten them out for you before taking one ankle and pushing it up and towards your chest. This isn't nearly as difficult but it was uncomfortable. His arm that wasn't holding your leg was pushing your hips down to assure it from lifting and although he was sat kneeling between your legs he was still half hanging over your face. Sharp cologne, mixed with sweat was filling your airways and a thin silver chain dangled from around his neck as his he watched you. You clear your throat and head of all of your inappropriate thoughts.

"How'd you know the choreography?" You ask softly but jot your chin out just a little to assert yourself more.

Changbin smiles down at you.  The last three hours had been the most time he'd spent with you, in the last two years and he couldn't help himself, he enjoyed your company. Your confidence, your focus and drive. Your being aware of yourself, wo you are and your bold assertion of it had made him more comfortable than intimidated.

"Jungkook and I ran through it last night after you threw a temper tantrum and ran off." He watches your eyes roll dramatically ready to snap back at him with something sarcastic or mean but he doesn't give you the chance too.

"I'm also pretty familiar with it, I've done parts of it before." Your mouth closes and brows knit in a frown at the interruption and he chuckles at the expression. His fingers trail along your calve softly as he sits back and releases his grip on your ankle to do the same with the other one. But when he leans back over you his face is serious, brows drawn pensively together and lips in an angry line.  You leave it, to tired to pry.

"Y/n... I- what would you do if I made a proposition?" His sharp stare flicks from where it was staring at the floor and to your face and you squirm slightly.

"Depends, what's in it for me?" Your voice is low as each of you regard the other with hesitancy.

"An A+." Changbin answered and you laughed.

"You're funny."

"Y/N. I'm serious." You settle down and he pins you with a determined stir.

"I want to beat Yeoujun. I want his scholarship, and I want principle."  Your eyes widen at that. You didn't have much against Yeonjun besides the fact that he was annoying and reeked of talent but did nothing with it.

"That's a little harsh isn't it? I get principle but the scholarship? Aren't you guys friends?" You inquire curiously and Changbin lowers his head to avoid your gaze. When he looks back up his tongue is stuck in his cheek as he grins.

"You'd think? Either way he sure as hell doesn't fucking act like it." He says it with a little bitter chuckle. The two of you sit in that loaded silence, filled with secrets, and revenge and jealousy for a moment just staring at the other.

"What do you say?" He's leaning closer and his words just above a whisper as he continues to regard you a moment longer, eyes flickering over your face trying to read your expression the tension was palpable if you stuck out the tip of your tongue you'd taste it and Changbins lips.

The glass doors click open.

"Am I interrupting something?" A familiar voice calls and dripping with smugness. Changbin watches as you roll you eyes and sits back with a little smile as he lets go of your leg and ankle. Yup, definitely the right candidate.

You sit up from the floor and look over at the door where Yeonjun is leaning a little grin on his face as he takes in the sight of the two of you, Changbin idly resting in between your thighs.

"It's called stretching, I'm sure you've heard of it before. You know, being a ballet dancer and all?" Changbin retorts and helps you to stand. His hand rests softly in the small of your back and gives it a soft pat  to nudge you towards your bags. You zip the leotard down again, so you can breathe and fiddle your phone out of your bag to check the time and slip your feet into your sneakers. You still had 20 minutes of your session left, how rude.

"She joining us?"

"I can hear you." You voice is sharp as you basically rip your bag off the ground and walk towards them. You pause beside Changbin shifting your weight to one side as you cross your arms over your chest and let your eyes wander over Yeonjun's figure,  tall and strong and delicate features, gender envy if you've ever seen it. God he was perfect, so hopelessly beautiful and and torturously seductive, strong figure dressed in a white shirt taught across his chest and sweats hanging dangerously low on his hips.

"I'll do it." You turn your head and face Changbin who tries his best to hide his panic.

"What? Join us for dinner?" Yeonjun scoffed.

"Oh, how lovely I've been upgraded from object to person worth addressing directly. No, I would rather not join. " You retort and turn to face Changbin and soften your features in a smile as you let your hand rest on the tan skin of his bicep. The same one that had effortlessly lifted you into the hair for two hours as if you were air.

"I'll text you."

Yeonjun watches you with an aghast smile as you push past and waltz out of the doors.

"Quite the partner you got there." Changbin had been watching your figure through the glass doors and smiled to himself.

"Sure is."

The door clicked shut behind them and Changbin tossed the hood of his black hoodie over his still slightly damp hair as they made their way out of the building.

"How's your training going?" Changbin inquired out of courtesy. Yeonjun had been breezing through the almost abandoned school hallways beside him almost without a worry.

"I think she'll claw my eyes out, maybe it'll be a good thing, then I can't see all the mistakes she's making." Yeonjun huffed his arms that he'd stretched up and above over his head flopping to his sides on frustration and Changbin laughed a little at that.

"How about you?"

"It's only been a day, but she's really not as bad as you make her seem. I've never met someone who works so hard in something she won't need." Changbin shoved his hands into his pockets as they make their way across the parking lot.

It was true. Despite your complaints about stretching, you'd let him run you through every part of the routine without any reluctance. Everytime he stopped and restarted, picking at a millisecond misstep, a finger a touch out of place, or an arm not soft enough, you'd let him do so without even so much as slight glimpse of reluctance. You'd take the critisism and focus on improving every single time, Jungkook had also managed to pick a character that suited your theatricality Yeonjun had previously criticised you for. You had even managed a lack of reaction at his fumbling in the different lifts, patiently letting him get used to it.

"That doesn't always make you good." Yeonjin pointed out as Changbin unlocked his car. Changbin had to keep himself from trying to rip his driver side door off at the sudden comment. Instead he takes a moment to pause as he leans against the car roof.

"What? Was that a little harsh?" Yeonjun said in a rather insincere tone from across the car roof.

"Get in the car." Changbin grumbles in answer.

"Forget about the evaluation for a second." Changbin mumbles through a mouthful of burger. It wasn't the best dietary choice but it had been a while he'd worked so hard for such a long duration of time, not because he had to make up for what you lacked but because your determination to do well fuelled him to do the same. Yeonjin was eating away at a plate of fries and looked up at his friend curiously.

"What do you think of YN?" Yeonjun pauses slightly.

There was no denying it, there wasn't many dancer's like you at Laurier, there was actually no other dancers like you. You were an enigma. Few would suffer through years of dance programs that weren't related to their focus, or even suffer through entrance exams in forms that weren't trained just to follow their dreams. Besides that, you held a seductive air, it was part of your muscular, curvier build that many of the female ballet dancer's lacked. You were stronger, your leaps and jumps far higher than most of the female student body and closely matching some of the boys in the classes best even. Your eyes were definitely what had caught Yeonjun's attention but not because they were a particular colour. Rather it was the firey emotion that constantly burned in them. You were passionate. Whenever his eyes met your sharp gaze he saw flames burn, gold and warm.  And he'd be lying if he didn't say he envied it, just a little.

"She's pretty."

Changbins brow raises as if implying, that's all?He knew Yeonjun to well and there was clearly more to the loaded statement.

"Fine, she's more than pretty, but does that really matter? Let's be honest neither of us have been big on locker room talk 'bin." Yeonjun says pointedly and Changbin nods pensively gazing up at the ugly florescent lighting in the dingy diner. He guessed that's maybe why Yeonjun had swiped Felix out of his grasp in an instant. Because Yeonjun never cared much to discuss whom his friends might be interested in. Either way, Changbin doesn't see Felix around anymore unless he passes by a room scheduled for the younger groups ballet sessions.

"I guess you're right. I'm just asking, because I like her shitty attitude and I know most of the girls are stuck up but her words have a bite to it that I think makes her different." Changbin says out loud and steals a fry from his friend who looks him on affronted. But the words are heavy on his ears. Yes the bite, fire. Yeonjun thought, fire that burns red and angry.

"You have the weirdest taste."

"Yah, we have the same taste so don't go around insulting me just yet." Changbin said and tossed a piece of lettuce at Yeonjun but it fell short next to his plate instead.

"Yeah well, you're on your own this time." Yeonjun scoffed and wore half smirk as he picked up the glass of ice water.

"Are you sure?" Changbin said softly his sharp chin resting on his hands as he stared at his friend, eyes narrowed. Yeonjun didn't like it. Like he knew that it was a desperate dismissal of obvious attraction. His critique of your horrible technique and inexperience was something he's used to brush off his crush in his first year at the school because how could you ever be what he wanted ? You sucked and had no friends, in all honesty you were extremely bad then and he couldn't help but wonder how the fuck you made it all the way to third year evaluation.

"I think you're lying." Changbin said with a tiny smirk one that most definitely had the devil hiding behind it.

"I don't think you just happened to remember her name Yeonjun." Changbin said and chuckled as he pulled his wallet out and dug out some cash that he put on the table to cover their dinner.

"You're delusional." Yeonjun hissed and shot him a glare as he collected his bag and hoodie. Changbin was halfway to the door when he turned to face his friend again.

"And you're a terrible liar."

The atelier was empty except for the three of you. The blonde was tall and lanky, built like a dancer himself but here you were, at a fashion school. When Changbin said  he knew someone who could help with costumes you hadn't expected this.  You hadn't expected him to drag you halfway across the city in a really nice car on a Saturday morning, picking you up with a bag  filled with a white tutu in your size and some craft items to take you out to a completely different art school.

"Changbin, I hate you."

"Come on! Hyunjin you have a costume design practical next semester and all you have to do is decorate a to and spray paint a white tutu red." Changbin tried to reason but the tall, handsome man remained unimpressed.

"I hate you." Hyunjin seems to stand his ground as he stares down his shorter friend, you bite down on your lip at the exchange and your eyes widen slightly as his glare lands on you.

"But I'll do it. Only since I'm poor and you're paying rich boy." Hyunjin held up a finger before dramatically sweeping long blonde hair out of his face. You feel a sigh of relief pass through your lips for some reason.

"Also your partner is stunning." Hyunjin said with a vapid flap of his one hand in the direction where you sat. You raise your brows and smile as Changbin shoots you a quick pained glare, "You'll have to give me her number so I can use her as a model in the future for a few projects."

You sit up a little straighter at the sound of that, Chin tilting up proudly.  It wasn't that you were insecure, that wasn't the case at all. It was just that you were constantly in an environment were the bone thin and light ballet dancer was the beauty ideal and you didn't match it. It was nice, getting out and being reminded that you're most definetly an enviable beauty for some.

"We'll do fittings at your school next week." Hyunjin huffed as he pulled out the things Changbin had brought along.

"Really?" Hyunjin holds up a black t shirt and Changbin shrugs.

"You're supposed to be a prince, I can't just make you un upgraded t-shirt!"

"I would like to state for the record, that I said that too." You raise your hand and Hyunjin slaps Changbin over the back of the head and you snicker that you hide behind a cough.

"Why won't you listen to her? You're a real piece of work."  Hyunjin shakes his head and lets out a frustrated huff before pulling the measuring tape around his neck and using a finger to tell Changbin to turn.

"It won't do, I'll make you a proper coat." Hyunjin started taking Changbins measurements, wen he said a number out loud you jumped realizing he was expecting you to write it down for him. You scramble and make your way over to the book on the table beside them writing down the numbers for him.

"Thank you for being such a wonderful assistant." Hyunjin says and his warm smile has your own lips tugging upwards.

"Anytime." you assure him and he surprises you as he takes your hand and plants a soft kiss on your knuckles before turning to face his friend.

"You. If you ever try to bring me a t-shirt and think you're overthrowing a prince with it again, I will choke you." Hyunjin scolds and you raise a brow at the title curiously.

"Prince?"

"Yes, its a nickname we gave Yeonjun since he has everything." Hyunjin explained.

"Everything?" You push and Hyunjin looks over at Changbin who gives a nod of encouragement.

"Yeonjuns always been a talented dancer and well, his family is pretty well off being some of the largest investors in the art community but he also has that wonderful scholarship that his dads company has at the school."

"It's his fathers company?" That was news to you, probably because you didn't have any friends to gossip with at the school.

"And everyone's okay with it?" You ask, your face unable to hide your obvious disgust.

"Well whats anyone going to do about it? Talk to Jeong? He's her prodigy." Hyunjin reasoned.

"But the students...", You try to reason and Changbins shake of his head shuts you up.

"Don't care, everyone wants to be his friend, fuck him or already has."

"On that solemn note, please leave so I can offer up my free time to this nightmare of a project." Hyunjin shoo's the two of you out.

Once you're buckled in the seat of the passenger side of Changbins car you wait patiently as he fiddles with the buttons on the stereo.

"What's your plans for today?" Changbin asks and you shrug.

"I don't have any, unless you want to train. In which case I'm fully booked." You can't help your smile as he cackles brightly.

"Wanna do something? I mean we haven't really had time to discuss any of our uh, approaches?" Changbin struggles to fine a subtle way to say revenge plot and this time its your turn to laugh.

"What did you have in mind?" Changbin grins and starts his car as an answer.

"Changbin I can't afford anything on this menu." You hiss with wide eyes and he waves you off, as if you weren't struggling to do the maths that would keep you from compromising your already strictly ramen noodle diet.

"It's my treat then." You can't help the grimace, what was it with these super rich art school kids. You sit back in the to nice chair and stare at his eyes wandering the menu.

"Why me?" His brows dip in question. "Why did you ask me to help you with the Yeonjun issue?"

An acknowledging nod signals his understanding but he's still quiet for a moment to long.

"Your a bit of an odd case. You seem to severely dislike him and well you are something he can't have."

"Please continue." He puts his menu down on the white table cloth gently before resting his chin on his intertwined fingers.

"The Choi's, as lovely and charitable as they are, expect  perfection perhaps not from everyone but definitely from their son." You sit upright in your seat, curiosity piqued.

"You aren't exactly what is considered to be daughter-in-law material and that's not because you aren't pretty enough because lets be honest you're gorgeous. It's simply because you aren't part of the family's close friends, specifically one of the shining stars." You can't help the blush tinting your cheeks at the compliment mid explanation and Changbin notices despite the extremely soft lighting casting a glow on everything, enough to give you a small smile and a coy head tilt.

"Yeonjun doesn't have a lot of options but his romantic escapades," Changbin breathes out a humourless chuckle, "Let's just say, that's how he rebels."

"That still doesn't explain my unattainability?" You raise a brow and sit back in your seat again.

Changbin reaches over the table, careful of the vase filled with bright orange flowers and takes one of your hands softly in his own, the action was odd but not enough to alarm you.

Yet.

"Yeonjun always wants to be the best and for a while, actually, too long he has been." Changbins eyes are trained on your hand, having turned it over so he could trace the folds and lines of your palm with his fingers.

"Y/N, it takes one simple challenge. A suggestion that he might not be the best and his pride would rule him. He'd be so focused on proving everyone that his station is deserved, that he is in fact the best,  that he'd be to blind to see his own downfall coming."

"He assumes that everyone has placed him on the same pedestal that he had placed himself on his entire life, so that the idea of someone not doing so doesn't exist to him."

Changbin looks up from your hand dark glare trained on your face.

"You don't like him, and he can't believe it."

"You like me more, would rather be partnered with anyone but him?"

You nod slowly to confirm that Changbins observation is correct.

"He can't have that. He'll become obsessed with proving that you're wrong in doing so." Changbins gaze is back on your palm, his soft tracing sending a ghost of shivers down your spine.

"So not only aren't you what his parents expect but you also seem to have a solid dislike for him. It wasn't the plan, honestly." Changbin looks up at you hand squeezing yours now as if it would convey his promise as truthful.

"But it sure is convenient." You say lowly and he nods, suddenly not so sure about how good of an idea it was asking for help. He wasn't sure if the blank mask you wore could because of inner turmoil, for all he knew his explanation could have completely changed your mind in helping him out. He lets go of your hand, sliding his own back slowly his eyes fixed on your face waiting for your next reaction.  What it would be, what he was waiting for he didn't know but it certainly wasn't what he had expected.

The soft chuckle wasn't unwelcome but it was definitely confusing.

"Wow, how does that saying go? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer? Yeonjun took that pretty seriously, huh?" Changbin doesn't fail to see the irony.

"Don't get me wrong,  we were friends and in some twisted way I'm sure we still are."

"But?"

"But I'm tired of losing to him." Changbin slinks back into his seat hands off the table and falling helplessly to his lap.

You encourage him to continue by pouring water from the jug on the table into his glass as if its a stiff drink, like the one he seems to need.

"There was this one guy. Fuck, was it bad. He's sweet and his cheeks would squish up and make it impossible to count the freckles that was all over his cheeks and nose. I wasn't even crushing, I practically skipped that whole step and boy did I make it obvious." He was sitting back up and he wore a half assed grin one that held more than its fair share of sadness.

"No one missed it, so either Yeonjun was impossibly blind or clearly was trying to make a point." Changbin resorted to finally reaching for his glass of water but simply opted for staring at the droplets running down the side of the glass.

"So he swooped in, charmed the living daylights out of him before I could blink, promptly broke his heart and now Felix doesn't speak to any of us anymore."

"Felix? As in Felix Lee?"  The description Changbin had given wasn't terribly subtle, but it was still somewhat of a surprise.

"Yeah and unfortunately my friend didn't just betray me he broke my heart without even thinking about it twice or having the decency of  asking if my puppy dog eyes meant something."

The revenge plot was starting to make sense and as much as you didn't like Yeonjun, Changbin might've let it slip that his opinion of your ballet abilities wasn't the highest. Of course sticks and stones, but you couldn't help growing fond of Changbin a bit of a Dark cloud that hid a bundle of charm and softness that had seeped past your cold exterior. Dammit you'd even consider him a friend, your first at Laurier.

He was still clearly worried that whatever it was he was planning you'd say no too, weary glances from his hands on his glass to you. You offer him a small grin to soothe his worries.

"Oh don't worry, you still have me in your corner Binnie."  You say gently before sitting forward. "Now, what's the plan exactly?"

Yeonjun watched as your hair followed with your twirls, the red and gold feathers bouncing along with the tutu as you playfully one two stepped into a pirouette with a big smile, your eyes alight with joy as you giggled. The pretty glimmering costume sparkled brightly and he couldn't help but think that your smile seemed blinding in comparison. He'd never seen it before, such happiness coming from you while doing ballet. Granted, you were doing a terrible job at practicing proper technique or steps but the freely stepping to releve and the flowing of your arms  with the glittering feather arm bands made you truly seem like a firebird, free and joyous and beautiful.

Changbin was right the character suited you and perhaps he had maybe judged your talents as a dancer too harshly.

Your playful twirls excited grins and entertained light hearted chuckles from your audience, Hyunjin even going so far as to give you applause for your impromptu show.

"Okay, okay. Come here pretty girl so we can check that the feathers don't come off or it gets in the way." Changbin stood up his coat  black coat with the golden embellishments and lapels open over his white t shirt and he held out his hand for you to except. With a playful tug he pulled you into his chest where you giggled softly. Changbin held you in a couple of releve twirls before the two of you got serious as the two of you turned serious and he manoeuvred around the costume you to lift you as previously practiced.

Jealousy, it bubbled up inside of Yeonjun like a black sticky tar at the sight of you and one of his closest friends so comfortable with each other, in synchronization as if you two had known each other for years and not only two or three weeks.

This crush, or at least the acknowledgement was becoming dangerous. He was starting to fall back into his regular patterns, the ones he knew all to well. Looking for a specific head of hair in a crowd, a black zipped down leotard, eyes that burned with hellfire, without even thinking about it, second nature almost. He was on a downhill drop to being absolutely infatuated and this new version of you, free and happy it was only stoking the hearth in his heart. It wasn't helping his cause.

For once he felt like he'd lost to Changbin.

Be it because he knew you so well, or because he had the burden of being your partner or perhaps because he was the one to witness your joy or perhaps instigate it.

He'd never really been sure what incited your icy exterior and furious glares in his direction. He'd avoided you for most years  but now he was wondering if rather it was the other way around and why it was bothering him that you would.

He'd never considered himself to be narcissistic and yet, what would force you of all people to stay so far away from him? Few who weren't exes and even then few of those actively tried to avoid Yeonjun in the way he was quickly piecing together that you had. Finally it would seem you were in arms reach, not so far away. Changbin was his link to you now, he might just have a shot at pulling you closer, pulling you towards him, the same way you had started pulling him towards you.

The night had started off wild,with too many  beers and too many soju bottles littering the countertop of Wooyoungs apartment when the three of them left. That it was crazy getting more when they met up with a few other s but he didn't realize it would result in this.

"Yeonjun whats your deal man?" Wooyoung said bright smile and cheerful giggle following after as he slung an arm over his much taller friends shoulders and pulled him into a hug, never scared of affection but it was too much. It was a lot with the buzz and the loud music and the smoke filled air.

"I don't have a deal." Yeonjun grumbled but didn't even try to shove his friend off of him.

"He's just mad that my dance partner doesn't like him." Changbin said with a teasing lilt but that obnoxious little smirk was rubbing him wrong. This time he did shove Wooyoungs arm off of him as he stepped closer and peered down at Changbin, bare of the grin he'd previously worn. He wasn't tilting his head back to meet Yeonjuns stare no instead e simply looked up through his lashes his dark glare daring Yeonjun to  do what he so desperately wanted too, knowingly.

"Admit it, you're jealous." Changbin said softly the same smirk growing as he knew his words hit true to their mark. He could tell by the way Yeonjun stiffened.

"You can't have her, she doesn't want you." His words were barely a whisper but the way Yeonjuns anger was zeroing in on his friend, blocked out all other sounds, "And nothing you do will change her mind."

"Because she doesn't care and guess what? You aren't as fucking great as you think you are." Yeonjun shoved Changbin back and was ready to swing when someone pulled him back to no avail as he stepped closer to Changbin who promptly stopped him from landing any hits as he took a hold of his wrists before both of them were promptly ripped apart.

"Go cool off!" Wooyoung practically pushed Yeonjun into one of their other friends who was standing behind him as he pulled him away from Changbin who was steadied with a firm hand on Wooyoungs chest .

"Go!" Wooyoung voiced again, louder and Yeonjun ripped himself away as he shoved his way through the thick crowd.

This place had been playing tricks on his mind since he got here, what had brought Changbin to suggesting this place from their usual spots?

The energy was strange here, it was something other from just dancing in the air. No here, the thickness of lust and sex seemed to hang in the air. It was starting to make him act up in ways he never would've dreamed of.

Yeonjun swept the cold water over his face. This was outrageous he'd never even thought of picking a fight with Changbin at least not physically.  He breathed out sigh before sweeping the damp black tresses and back out of his face he straightened only to be met by the sight of you. He must be really drunk to be hallucinating now. He blinked hard and realized that it wasn't a hallucination. A bright yellow fish darted across his vision and his brain caught up with his vision. The men's room was separated from the women's by a bright fish tank, one that stretched its length glowing bright and filled with an array of both large and small colourful fish.

You haven't noticed him, eyes trained on the small compact in your hand as you reapplied the lipstick shade you had selected to wear for the evening.

It wasn't love at first sight. No, he'd seen you before, on numerous different occasions but now...

The sight of you sobered him up more than the cool water ever could, hair that was usually pulled back now framing your face, figure graced in a short white dress , with a generous neckline much like that leotard you favoured, the golden lighting above the individual sinks lighting up your skin made you glow.

It definitely wasn't love but something had changed, maybe it was him finally admitting his pining for you.

Your eyes caught his as soon as you snapped the compact shut, not a hint of surprise dawning on your features.

Instead you hold his stare as you put everything back into your small clutch a ghost of a smile on your face as you step back from the glass and walk away, only breaking the silent battle when the door hides your figure.

Yeonjun darts out of the bathroom and immediately seeks the figment of his imagination his head must of conjured because it was impossible, that you'd appear here, in the midst of all his way to high strung out emotions. He caught a glance of your figure sashaying through the crowds that seemed to move aside at the meer sense of your presence, everyone making space for you as you pass, to afraid to even graze themselves against you. Yeonjun squeezes through the gyrating figures,  tall long body squeezed out and pushed out of the way, his idea to follow in your wake becoming exceptionally difficult with each surge of the bass and bright flare of  light. White strobes creating stop motion images of the people dancing around him.

As he finally escapes the dancefloor he spots your figure leaning up against the bar, Changbin leaning over it as he whispers something in your ear that tempts a beautiful grin to your lips. Yeonjun immediately pushes away the ugly head of anger that threatened to instigate another fight and plastered on a smirk before sliding in beside the pair of you.

It was strange seeing him through the fish tank damp black strands hanging over his heavy lidded eyes and pouty lips parted aghast. You'd never seen him in anything other than sweats or dance clothes, you would be lying if you didn't say the white muscle tank didn't look good on him, long lean arms, toned enough that as he leaned against the sink you could see the way the muscles in his shoulders moved and now you could see he had paired it with some black jeans that came up high enough to accentuate  his enviably tiny waist.

"Changbin, sorry for interrupting but I'd like to invite Y/N to the dancefloor?" His eyes stayed glued to your face and you dared a glance towards Changbins whos dark analytical gaze encouraged you to play the game.

"And why would I dance with you?" You tease, acting coy as you fiddle a strand of hair around your index finger he bites as he leans closer with his hands tucked into his pockets.

"Well I don't believe we've ever had the pleasure of being partners and well it might be best in a space you'd be comfortable." He leans back with a grin one that so obviously says he's proud of his little insult.

"Is that so?" You barely keep the snappiness out of your tone as you glare him down. Yeonjun tries to suppress the chills the look is giving him. You hand your purse over to Changbin and walk past him a shove at his shoulder, your heels making you tall enough to dare the push without it seeming pathetic. Yeonjun chuckles incredulous before turning on his heels to catch up with your long strides, by the time he's close enough to reach you he realizes you've managed to find people that seem to be your own friends judging by their friendly smiles and the way they made space for you the song the DJ was currently playing resembled dance hall and all though he was aware that his mind severely undersold your dancing abilities he wasn't expecting the sight in front of him. With not a single care for the shortness of the dress or the vulgarity of the moves your hips seemed to lead your body in a seductive rhythm that had Yeonjun staring even if he was sure it was inappropriately. Every time you caught his eyes, your grin told him he'd lost. He didn't even stand a chance to start with. He would've had better luck in the dance studio.

It felt good, a different kind of thrill. Shutting him up even if it was for just a little while, especially after you heard what his opinion was of your dancing ability.

He trailed you back to the bar and with a defeated smile watched you order a drink.

"I have severely underestimated you, I apologize." Yeonjun says with that same small grin and a shake of his head and you beam.

"Apology accepted." You chuckle and brush your hair out of your face as you watch him.

"I really messed up." Yeonjun bites down on his bottom lip and you force your eyes away from his plump pouty lips to his eyes.

"Yes you did." You agree and he chuckles brightly and loudly.

"I meant," He steps closer, leaning down lips brushing up against your ear as he lowers his voice,"If I had just been honest with myself, you might have been doing those moves on me." He pulls back and your head is a whirlwind of thoughts. Honest with himself?  What was that supposed to mean? Either way it didn't matter, your stomach and well other parts of your body were fluttering dangerously at the implications of his words. Your drink arrives and so does Changbin who saddles up to your side comfortably, his arm wrapping around your waist and you let him so you can lean into his strong body and take some pressure of your feet in their heels. Yeonjuns gaze darkens.

"I'm happy we came, this place is way cooler than the uptight clubs we always go to." Changbin announces and Yeonjuns brow dips, he didn't think this place was all that great but judging by the sweat that was dotting his friends forehead, the music and his chosen partners were the reasons behind his high praise.

Your butterflies still hadn't calmed and the alcohol made you dare the chance.

"You finally ready to be my dance partner properly?" You shoot a grin in Yeonjuns direction, one he missed because he was busy staring at Changbins arm around your waist.

"Yeonjun?" You call and it finally seems to click you were talking to him.

"Of course." He dares a grin and bows slightly as he offers his hand formally, you scoff and with a roll of your eyes take the hand offered. He laces his fingers through yours and pulls you away from Changbin's grip only letting go to hold your hands up so you could spin.

One thing you realized,  Yeonjun was a sore loser. He'd stepped into your space as the songs continued to switch through the mix list, this only resulted in him proving his own ability to follow a beat in time with your movements. Pressed closer together the air only got stickier, and you could feel the cold drops of sweat running down your spine as time was lost to you and apparently all form of  rational thought too. It was only when a tender but heavy kiss found the back of your neck that you realized, you were dancing with the enemy in a way that could possibly have you arrested for public indecency. You took a step away and turned steeling your gaze so you didn't look like the deer in headlights you had suddenly become.

Because as much as shutting Yeonjun up was fun this was making you want to find out if there was other ways to have fun with him, you couldn't promise yourself you wouldn't end up in a more compromising position with him and that was definitely not the plan. You eye him for a moment his surprised expression, hair hangning in his eyes or matted against his forehead, in a similar manner to how the white tank was sticking to his chest hand reaching out to grab your hand again. You press past a couple and dissapear back to the bathroom.

So this was how people got swept up in the hurricane Yeonjun was. Distracted by the pretty lashes, sharp eyes that devoured you whole and those terribly soft lips. Ghosts of his fingers ran over your body, everywhere he had dared to touch so surely, the spot on the back of your neck burning at the memory of  the kisses weight. You dared a look into the floor length mirror parallel to the door you'd rushed through. He'd left you a mess, sticky with sweat and smudged mascara around your eyes, breathless and hair messy. You couldn't help but wonder what power it is he possessed to so easily dishevel your appearance.  You purposefully rub at the dark circles under your eyes and dare to pat some cold water to your neck to collect yourself before entering the fray again. It wasn't hard to find him, your body now drawing towards him like a magnet as if he was the sun, tugging you into his atmosphere, but the body plastered to him quickly stops you. Life had a lovely way of reminding you why you'd avoided the beauty, his gravitational pull always seemed to have room for more. With a scoff and a reality check you press your way towards the man that still had your bag. Changbin was stuck in a booth with some other friends your purse on the table in front, whomever he'd been dancing with earlier nowhere to be seen.

"I'm leaving." Changbin shoots up as you grab your purse.

"I'll come with you." He insists and just as you're ready to politely decline a voice interrupts.

"Y/N?" Yeonjun is beside you a hand on your shoulder, brows furrowed as if concerned but a quick peak over his shoulder makes you aware the guy he'd found wasn't hanging to far off . You shrug of his hand and fix your eyes on Changbin.

"That'd be great." Changbin follows after you, hand on the small of your back as the pair of you trail towards the exit leaving Yeonjun to watch after with an empty pang in his chest. He tried to will his feet to move after you but it didn't instead, he stood glued eyes following over the crowd as Changbin accompanied you out the door with his arm around your shoulder and you tucked into his side.

Yeonjun had been left to observe you from far away for the final week before the showcase, in passing when you came in to the studio with Changbin after his own practice slot. You didn't acknowledge his presence, instead focusing on the music or your practice tutu or your pointes instead of him.

But he chalked it down to you simply trying to focus on what was to come.

When he finally did get to see you it was minutes before your peformance, dressed in gold and red. Hair slicked back and a headband of red and gold feathers over it, even with the light from the stage you glowed, shimmered with beauty and charm as you warmed up, smiling at the stage hands that passed you. He came up beside you and for the first time in a week your eyes fell on him.

"YN, I just wanted to say goodluck and well I was wondering if when we could go dancing together again?" Yeonjun was leaning up against the bar you were busy stretching on.

You laugh soft enough to not bother the other performance but still full and hearty, Yeonjun raises a brow he hadn't said anything funny.

"Sorry its just, well you must be blind." Yeonjun takes a step back as he watches her lips quirk upwards. It was just the two of them and the stage hands, Changbin was in the other wing waiting for the curtains for the rendition of the dance of the snowflakes to end. No one to witness the mask that seemed to fall away from the beautifully painted face.

"You know at first I was jealous of you. Perfect, you. With the perfect scholarship, not that you need it because of your daddy. Then I was angry because how could you waste time like that and still be so good. Well now...", Firey eyes ringed with read eyeshadow and golden flakes, disdainfully drags over his figure from head to toe.

"Now I'm just disappointed."

"Yeonjun I hate you, but not because you ever even had the chance to break my heart because lets be honest I'm not half as dumb as you think." You stop stretching as you step closer towards him where he was now frozen in place.

"No, I hate you because you have everything,  all that you'd need to be the best but you're to distracted to ever reach your full potential."

"I don't need this, I'm a modern dancer, to contemporary for the genre anyway. I don't give a fuck about Jeong." Yeonjun sucks in a breath not at the crass words but rather the quotation of his own critique of your abilities, "... but you, you're her little prodigy and you have to do well, you have a scholarship and a family name that you need to maintain. My inability to be perfect means nothing. " You brush an invisible dust particle off his exposed shoulder before continuing.

"Your imperfections though, every single little mistake, every little misstep everyone out there will be looking for exactly that, they're waiting for your downfall and me?" You look up at him blazing eyes staring at him from behind bright red eyeshadow, "well, I'm praying for it."

Even if Yeonjun wasn't speechless he wouldn't have been able to actually retaliate because a 30 second call was made for your stage. Your grin didn't falter in fact it grew to the big stage smile every dancer wore while performing as you turned away from his figure as the pair on stage passed by you at the entrance of the wing you were waiting in.  The lights on the stage lit up as Changbin entered the stage, the black velveten coat and golden decorations glimmered under the light bright and bold, but it casted a bright glow around your figure, lighting up the red and gold feathers of your tutu in a warm light only growing brighter as you started your dance onto the stage. Yeonjun eyes were glued to you, the performance that of which was visible from where he stood taking his breath away. It might've been the lack of oxygen or perhaps it was shock, the fogginess that clouded the edges of his vision as his eyes followed the soft movements of your arms, the bounce of the tutu as you leaped through the air, even the arch of your spine as Changbin hoisted you up and over his head, held you in his arms time and time again as the battle of freedom between the firebird an he prince commenced. He saw the pretty picture of sorrow and torment as the Firebird fought to break free and the prince with his own battle of caging the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in and ultimately be the cause of its death.  The longing on the prince's face as she disappears and leaves him with only a single mark of her, a red feather.

It's only then he feels the insistent tug of his partner at his arm, trying to pull him closer towards the exit of the wing for his own performance. Yeonjun tried to force himself to focus but his eyes landed on the pair a moment before walking onto the stage. Your body was being squeezed in a joyous hug, Changbin cheering silently as he spun you around, your own smile was bright, big and effervescent. Blinding just like the stage lights that obscured the audience, even the front row he knew was reserved for lecturers and special guests. He could only hear the blood rushing in his ears that's probably why he missed the first few counts. He was  behind now, muscle memory kicking in but never being enough to chase the fog far enough to catch up but only to make him more aware of the battle he was fighting to get back on beat. His body wouldn't let him, it was like there was a really strange weight keeping his legs and arms from moving right, but his head seemed to be floating, miles away from here.  Off in the wings where you had been smiling, happy in someone else's arms. Smiling as your lips move, your eyes on fire as his world falls apart a little, by little as you utter those words, those prayers , those hopes of imperfections  coming true with every note and every misstep and every delayed catch of his partners hand, he can feel it. The stuffy auditorium, how it was starting to suffocate him, the bitter taste of disappointment, of failure on the tip of his tongue as the shallow breaths passed over his dry lips and he inhaled the small particles of dust that everyone could see in the bright lights that was shining on every mistake he made.

As those curtains closed and the lack luster applause was still fuzzy to his ears, blood still rushing through it. He realized you'd wished his worse fears upon him, that they'd come true .

That those velveteen curtains blocking out the stage lights, was like the sun disappearing, that you'd burned so bright for the brief moment he'd set his sights on you. So bright he didn't realize how dark it would be when his downfall came.

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Rebirth

Chapter 1: Flowers In The Window

Summary: Steven Grant Rogers, the dumb kid who was always too stubborn to run away from a fight, was never gonna allow a bunch of no-good low-lives to hassle a dame in the street, even if it was going to lead to him getting his ass kicked. For once, however, the ass kicking has an upside as the dame in question seemed particularly grateful, a fact she displays a few days later at the Stark Expo.

But it wasn’t the only encounter that fateful night that seemed set to change his life when Dr Erskine throws him a bone, meaning Steve can finally do the one thing he’s been desperate to do for years.

Join the army.

Warnings: Bad Language words. Nothing much… Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N:  So here it is…my take on what would have gone down so to speak should Katie have been part of the CA: TFA timeline and my contribution of sorts to the CATF 10 Year Anniversary Challenge. I’ll be trying to keep this fic as accurate to the time period and the movie as possible, just like with the other SS fics.  I really hope you enjoy this, there will be some creative license because, let’s face it, what is Fan Fic other than self-indulgence?

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

SSR Masterlist // Main Masterlist

June 1943

It started just the same as any normal Friday morning for Steven Grant Rogers. He unlocked the back of the Grocery Store on the corner of Berry Street in Brooklyn, using the entrance down the alley way reserved for staff. Once inside, he grabbed his beige coloured linen apron off the hook and smiled at the items he had to work with today. Fridays were always a treat as they took the rare delivery of freshly cut flowers ready to be sold for the weekend. This week there were boxes of bright white gardenias with their waxy petals and shiny, leathery dark green leaves, bunches of bright purple heliotrope which always reminded him of one of his mother’s scarves, and plenty of white, blue and purple asters. Steve bent down to take in the strong, vibrant fragrance of the gardenias, closing his eyes. It was easy to imagine he was in some garden somewhere, or even the middle of central park…not some little shop in Williamsberg.

“Don’t be inhaling enough of that to set your asthma off!” Mr Tromley, a kindly faced, portly man in his fifties greeted, and Steve turned to look at him, smiling a little shyly.

“I won’t Mr T,” he assured him, “they’re just so darn pretty…”

“Well set yourself a few aside.” Mr Tromley smiled, “you can take them home and sketch them.”

“Oh, I couldn’t.” Steve protested, the way he always did when Mr Tromley tried to slip him something for free be it scraps of meat he couldn’t sell from the counter that would be given to dogs, bread that wasn’t as soft as it had been in the morning and would be fed to the birds, milk that was going to turn, cheese that was slightly past its best. Mr Tromley ignored all his protests though, usually threatening to sack Steve if he didn’t take it. The man knew what it was like to come from a hard background, which was part of the reason he’d taken a shine to that sickly, twenty-two year old orphan with a degree in fine arts that had come begging for a job some three years ago. He couldn’t pay him much but he could do other things to make sure he got by.

“Well if you don’t take ‘em Steve they’ll just end up withering and a-dyin’, so reckon you’d be doin’ em a kindness.” Mr Tromley shrugged “Now, my Ada has some coffee going, you want a cup before we open the doors?”

Steve glanced at the clock above the counter, more out of habit than anything as he knew full well that he arrived with an hour to go.

“Mr T that’d be swell.” He smiled.

“Okay, you get started and I’ll fetch it down.”

Steve began in the usual way, pulling some simple bouquets together, varying in size and price, ready for the busy men to pick up on their way home from work, a nice present for their dame’s for the weekend. Once the stalks and lower foliage were trimmed and stripped, he fastened and tied them in simple brown waxy paper using plain brown string. Steve always insisted on using plain wrapping as anything else would detract from the beauty of the flowers. He placed the finished bouquets into one of the green buckets of water Mr Tromley fetched from the back, before he then carefully and delicately trimmed down the remaining flowers before placing them loose in their own buckets according to type, ready for the ladies, and occasional gentleman, who had the time and desire to create their own bunches.

Impeccably organised, as ever, Steve finished his work fifteen minutes before the store was due to open. He then set about helping Mr Tromley as they arranged the buckets outside the shop window on the sidewalk, before they set up the other stalls of seasonal vegetables. There wasn’t much fruit to go by at the moment, but that was a sign of the times really. But what they did have, namely a selection of apples and oranges, they set those out ready too. Once that was done, Mr Tromley handed Steve a thick wedge of fresh bread which had been delivered that morning from the local bakery, along with some of his wife’s home-made jam which was sold from their shop. Steve took his breakfast with a mumbled thanks, averse to taking the daily handouts as ever, and Mr Tromley sighed.

“Steve, when are you going to realise that a piece of bread and jam for breakfast ain’t gonna bankrupt me?”

“I just don’t want to appear to take advantage, that’s all.” “Ah quit it.” Tromley waved his hand, shaking his head “If I didn’t want you to take advantage of it, I wouldn’t offer it would I? Now, eat that and get behind the counter.”

The morning passed much the same as they always did. A flurry of activity at opening, a steady stream of locals and regulars through to the usual peak of activity just before lunch. Like clockwork, Mr Tromley closed the doors bang on midday for an hour and Steve gathered his sketchbook along with the brown paper bag which contained his cheese and bread, and headed outside into the sun. At Mr Tromley’s instruction he selected an apple from the display and crossed the road avoiding the yellow cabs and cyclists and trams, taking up seat on the bench which sat directly opposite the shop front.  He chewed his lunch, washed it down with the tin bottle of lemonade that Mrs Tromley had filled for him earlier, and then once he had finished his apple he tossed the core over to a pigeon who instantly began pecking at it. He then untucked the pencil that was behind his ear, opened his sketchbook and resumed the detailed landscapes he was doing of the buildings surrounding the shop front. Drawing was his escape, something he did any chance he got. He dreamed one day of travelling the world, drawing all the different sights he could, but that was out of the question. Well, until he finally got into the army. With four failed attempts under his belt already, most men would have given up but not Steven Rogers. Stubborn, tenacious and plucky to a fault, he was already planning his next attempt at enlisting, this time he was going to hail from New Jersey. Well, as good a place as any.  

Steve glanced up, checking the detail of the window to the cobblers next door, and that was when he saw her, just walking down the sidewalk. She wore a red high-collared, cap sleeved tea-dress which flared out slightly from her hips and finished just below her knee. It was cinched in at the waist with a black belt, and was detailed round the hem and sleeve edges with pretty white lace. On her feet she wore a pair of simple, elegant black block heel courts with a T-bar buckle. Her hair was a silky, shiny chestnut which hung around her face in bouncy waves and she had a soft, gentle profile with high cheekbones, slightly flushed cheeks and ruby lips. She stopped outside the shop, examining the flowers with a smile, and then she looked up at the shop door and saw the CLOSED sign in the window. She can’t be from around here, Steve thought to himself, everyone in the neighbourhood knew when Tromley closed his doors and opened them, you could set your watch by it. Still, she hung around, softly picking up a gardenia and holding it to her nose, smiling to herself as she inhaled.

Steve found the innocent act breath-taking. He felt a little, well, shameful in a way, to be watching her so, intruding on what was clearly a private moment but he couldn’t help it. She was beautiful, grace personified, and he felt a little sad as she replaced the flower, gave the buckets one last look, before she continued on her way. Steve sighed, wishing to God that the shop had been open, it would have given him an excuse to maybe see her a little more closely. Perhaps talk to her. Or not as the case maybe, Bucky was always telling him how useless he was when it came to striking up conversations with ladies. But, for now, he had to settle for watching her walk away. Only he wasn’t the only one.

“Hey pretty thing…” Steve heard a voice and turned to his left where a group of men, most likely in their late teens or early twenties, had spotted her. As Steve watched he saw one of them push himself off the lamppost he’d been leaning on and cross the street towards her. The lady stopped, looking at him with her eyebrow raised. He spoke to her again, Steve couldn’t hear the conversation but a smile tugged at his lips as the lady looked the boy up and down, disdain etched all over her pretty face before she shook her head and laughed. She made to move past the kid but he reached out and grabbed her arm.

And Steve just couldn’t help himself.

“Hey!” He called, jumping up and hurrying across the street. “Let the lady go.”

“Back off, this has nothing to do with you.” The man rounded on him, looking at him before he snorted at Steve’s stature. “Besides, what you gonna do about it anyway? Runt.”

Steve took a deep breath, he was used to people looking down their noses at him, both figuratively and literally. That was part and parcel of being only five foot four inches tall. He also knew that at hundred pound give or take, he didn’t cut a formidable figure either, but he was damned if he was going to let this bully manhandle a dame in the middle of the street.

The woman wrenched her arm away from the man’s grip and glared at him, furious green eyes bored into his as she snorted and looked the guy up and down. “He’s clearly twice the gentleman you’ll ever be. Didn’t your mother ever teach you basic, good manners jack ass?”

“What did you just say?” a sudden darkness crossed the man’s face as he looked down at the woman who stood, un-yielding, clutching her purse as it hung around her shoulder.

“You heard me, well unless you’re deaf as well as ugly.” She shrugged slightly. At that Steve really couldn’t hold his face straight anymore and he felt the side of his lips curl up into a smirk. He was sure the pretty dame’s eyes flickered to his but he must have imagined it as when he stole a glance back at her she was staring straight back at the man who’d been giving her the trouble.

“Mouthy little broad you ain’t ya?” He snarled.

“Show some damned respect.” Steve shot out, and this time the man rounded on him. Steve stood stock still, his mother’s words echoing clearly in his head- you start running, they’ll never let you stop and he was aware in his peripheral that the other 2 men who’d been observing until now were starting to circle like sharks who had just had their first taste of blood.

He braced himself, ready for the inevitable fight, legs slightly apart, hands balling into fists by his side. But it was no use. He was never going to be fast enough or strong enough for one of these guys, let alone three, and as the fist connected with his face he heard a scream and a yell as he fell backwards into the display of oranges and apples which he had lovingly helped Mr T prepare before.

Steve staggered to his feet, readying himself for another hit but it didn’t come. Instead one of the guys was sent sprawling to the ground besides him, shortly followed by the other. He wheeled round to see Bucky had the one that was left standing pinned up by the collar against the brick wall to the side of the shop and Mrs T was on the door step brandishing a broom handle, a string of Italian expletives leaving her mouth.

“Get outta here!” Bucky shoved the one that he was holding harshly into the road where he narrowly avoided colliding with the side of a yellow cab. Then turns to Steve and pulls him up.

“Seriously?” Bucky groaned and Steve shook his head, dusting himself down “You pick a fight with three at once?”

“He didn’t pick a fight with any of them.” A soft voice spoke and both Steve and Bucky turned to look at the dame in the red dress who was dusting herself down as her eyes flitted from Bucky, to Steve, then back again. “He came to help me when one of those bozos was getting a little too familiar.”

“That’s Stevie, a regular Knight in shining armour.” Bucky ruffled Steve’s hair as he gave an exasperated sigh, pushing himself away from his best friend. “Especially when there’s a beautiful dame involved.”

 The lady looked at Bucky, arching an eyebrow before she looked back at Steve and he gulped slightly as for the first time he took her in properly. There was nothing else to say other than she was drop dead gorgeous. Deep green eyes that sparkled like emeralds looked back at him from a heart shaped face, nose speckled with freckles which twitched a little as she smiled revealing a row of perfectly straight, white teeth

"I guess I should thank you Stevie." She spoke, and Steve felt the heat rise in his cheeks.

"It was nothing...I just.." he stopped dead as she reached out and straightened his tie, long eyelashes blinking against his cheeks as she smoothed over his shoulders and dropped a kiss to his cheek.

"My hero"

Steve swallowed and looked at the woman as she stepped back, smiling at him.

“I err, it was…my pleasure.” Steve stuttered and the lady arched an eyebrow, a grin on her face.

“Interesting choice of words.”

“I mean, not pleasure, obviously. No one likes seeing a beautiful dame getting hassled, I mean woman, not that…” he shook his head, as Bucky nudged him. He was rambling, as per usual. “I err, I should…”he gestured to the shop as Mr and Mrs Tromley were now looking at the mess of fruit all over the floor.

“I’m sorry about that.” She turned to the shopkeepers who looked at her, Mrs Tromley waving her away.

“Not your fault, dear.”

“Can I at least buy some of the flowers?”  She asked, a little shyly. “That is what I actually wanted to do after all.”

“Of course, Steven, can you…” Mr T nodded to Steve and then his eyes fell on Bucky “James Buchanan Barnes, what are you doing here?”

“Got a week or so’s furlough, Mr T and Ma sent me for some stuff, I gotta list.” he nodded, fishing it out of his pocket.

Tromley took it from him, scanned it and then turned to walk into the shop, beckoning for Bucky to follow him. Steve’s eyes followed his friend’s broad back as Bucky paused in the doorway and stopped, turning back to the woman. Steve groaned inwardly, he knew that face, Bucky was about to turn on the charm and she was no doubt going to fall in a pool at his feet, just like most of the other girls in the neighbourhood.

“You’re not from round here, right?” Bucky asked.

“What makes you say that?” She countered with a question of her own, looking Bucky up and down as she spoke.

“Never seen you before.”

“Know all the girls in Brooklyn, do you James Buchanan Barnes?” She asked, and Bucky gave a chuckle as she repeated his name to him and winked.

“Only the pretty ones.” “Well I suppose with most men joining the army the moment, even the pretty ones can’t be choosers.”

At that Steve let out a snort of laughter as Bucky blinked in surprise. “Ouch.” He gave a little scoff and shake of his head before he turned to walk into the shop.

“He always like that?” The lady looked at Steve who took a deep breath and smiled a little.

“Yes Ma’am. And to be honest it normally works.” Steve glanced at Bucky before he looked back at the woman who was looking at him, her eyes twinkling. “Most girls just can’t seem’ta say no!”

“Well, I’ll let you into a secret.” She grinned and leaned closer to Steve. “I’m not like most girls.”

Steve swallowed again, nervously brushing a hand through his hair as she straightened up and smiled at him. “I’m Katie by the way, seems only fair you know my name seeing as I know yours.”

“I err, that’s a pretty name.” Steve smiled and then inwardly cursed himself again.

Pretty name? Really? That’s the best you can do?

“Thank you.” She giggled, and then she turned to the buckets “So errr, do you wanna make me a bouquet Steve? Something pretty for my room.”

Glad of the distraction, Steve nodded and turned to the various bunches of flowers. “I err, I noticed you were admiring the gardenias, so…” “You were watching me?” she spoke and Steve looked at her, ready to start protesting that wasn’t what he’d been doing when he spotted the glint in her eyes and he shook his head giving a sigh. She grinned “I love gardenias, lilies are my favourite but gardenias are pretty too.”

“Yeah we don’t have any lilies, unfortunately.” Steve shrugged “They were my Ma’s favourite too.”

Steve set about gathering a generous bunch of flowers as she instructed him to make it a large bouquet and then she followed him into the shop where he wrapped them in brown paper and string as Bucky was leaning against the counter, chatting to the Tromleys, Mrs Tromley laughing loudly at something he’d said.

“You are a cad, Bucky Barnes!” She looked at him, shaking her head “Isn’t it bad enough you joined the army? You’ll give your ma a heart attack one of these days.”

Bucky shrugged “It wasn’t so bad, he never caught me. Even on a bum ankle I was faster.”

“You been caught in places you shouldn’t be again Buck?” Steve looked at him and he shrugged, grinning.

“You know me, Stevie!”

“Yeah, yeah I do.” Steve rolled his eyes before he tied off the bouquet with the string and then handed it to Katie. She smiled.

“You have talented hands.” She spoke gently and Steve flushed once more, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah, he’s good with them.” Bucky spoke and Steve glared at him. Katie turned to look at Bucky again, a smirk playing on her lips.

“Makes a change, in my experience most men don’t know the first thing about how to use them.”

Mrs Tromley choked a little on her coffee as she looked at the younger woman, flashing her a wink. Katie bit her lip, her mouth curling up into a small smile as she rummaged in her purse, pulling out a small leather wallet.

“How much do I owe you?”

“No charge.” Mr Tromley spoke suddenly but Katie shook her head.

“I insist, I was responsible for your display getting trashed, least I can do is pay for these.”

“Oh trust me,” Mr Tromley smiled, “seeing you put that toe-rag into them was worth it.”

“Yeah, you had some pretty vicious moves for a dame.” Bucky looked at her and she shrugged as Steve frowned.

“Wait, you…” “Don’t look so surprised.” Katie smiled “A girl should always know how to defend herself. But if I’m honest, it’s always nice to have a man do it for you.”

At that she smiled and slapped some money down on the counter, stepping back. “Keep the change in insist.”

Mr Tromley looked at her, then at the note, his mouth falling open a little.

“Thank you again Steve.” She picked up the bouquet. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“I hope so, I mean…yeah…come back soon.”

She smiled and with a final look in his direction she left, the bell ringing as the door opened and shut behind her. There was a pause until Bucky turned to Steve.

“Come back soon?” he looked at him “Really? That’s the best you could do?”

Steve groaned. “Piss off Bucky.” He shot, giving a yelp as Mrs T swatted at his head.

“Language, Steven!” She scalded, as Mr T chuckled and slid the money she’d left to Steve across the counter. Steve blinked and looked at it, before he shook his head. Mr Tromley glared at him.

“You don’t take that you’re fired.”

With a groan Steve folded the $5 note up and slid it into the pocket of his slacks. Mrs Tromley muttered something about going to check on her scones which were in the oven upstairs and Mr Tromley headed into the back, leaving Steve and Bucky alone.

“You know, that dame was practically begging for you to ask her out on a date.” Bucky picked up the paper bag containing the groceries he had come for and Steve looked at him, snorting.

“You’re joking right?” the smaller man shook his head “Dame’s like that don’t want a guy like me.” “Clueless.” Bucky shook his head “Absolutely fucking clueless.” Steve watched him head to the door, before he stopped and turned back. “Oh that reminds me. Ma’s expecting you about 6 for dinner. She’s making meatloaf and told me that if you refuse she’s gonna, and I quote.” Bucky cleared his throat and spoke in a light, airey impression of his Ma, “march round to his house and drag him outta that apartment by his ear.”

Steve rolled his eyes well naturedly. He hadn’t been to the Barnes’ for dinner for a week so he wasn’t surprised Winnie had sent Bucky with an invitation that was more of an instruction than anything. “Okay, thanks Buck.”

Bucky gave him a salute before he headed out of the store, whistling to himself. Steve took a deep breath, shook his head and turned back to his work, pushing all thoughts of the stunning young woman in the red dress out of his mind.

*****

“You just don’t know when to give up, do you?” She taunting voice of his opponent rang in Steve’s ears as he staggered to his feet. This wasn’t how he’d planned his trip to the movie theatre going, not one iota. But when the loudmouthed asshole had done nothing but show total disrespect to those fighting overseas as the infomercial was showing, his temper had gotten the better of him and once more had led to him getting into a fight. As far as Monday’s went, this one was pretty crappy.

Which of course he could never walk away from.

“I can do this all day.” Steve huffed, swinging his fist at the guy again. The jerk easily blocked Steve’s feeble punch with his arm, delivering a huge jab with his left which sent Steve sprawling straight into the side of the trashcan from which he’d picked up the lid before. As Steve lay dazed, he heard a familiar voice breaking through the fog.

“Hey! Pick on someone your own size.” Bucky yanked the guy backwards by his jacket, shoving him a little down the alleyway. The guy swung at Bucky who dodged it almost lazily, before delivering a punch of his own, placing a firm boot up the guys ass as he retreated hurriedly. Watching as he scooted away, Bucky turned to Steve who was stood with his hands on his knees, steadying himself.

“Sometimes, I think you like getting punched.”

“I had him on the ropes.” Steve replied, pressing the heel of his palm to the cut above his eyebrow, wincing a little from the various blows he’d taken.

Bucky said nothing, instead he bent down to pick up the enlistment form that had fallen from Steve’s pocket and with a sigh he glanced at it.

“How many times is this?” His eyes scanned the information and he arched an eyebrow “Oh, you’re from Paramus now? You know it’s illegal to lie on the enlistment form. And seriously, Jersey?”

Steve ignored him, and then for the first time looked up at his friend to see him stood tall in his full army uniform. Which could only mean one thing. “You get your orders?” he frowned a little.

“The one-o-seventh. Sergeant James Barnes. Shipping out for England first thing tomorrow.”

Steve sighed, great. Just what he needed to hear. “I should be going.” He shook his head dejectedly.

Bucky looked at him sympathetically before he smiled, and looked an arm round his shoulder, pulling him closer in a friendly gesture as they both began to head back down the alley towards the main road.

“Come on, man, it’s my last night! Gotta get you cleaned up.”

“Why? Where are we going?”

“The future.” Bucky handed Steve the newspaper he was holding. Steve opened it to see the ad for the World Exposition Of Tomorrow.

“Buck…” he began to protest but Bucky stopped him.

“Seriously? My last night before I ship off to bust Nazi’s and you’re already tryin’a bail?”

“No, I just…” “Stevie!” Bucky whined. “Since I got my draft last September, I’ve hardly seen you other than when I’ve been home…”

“I know, but…” “No buts, man! I mean who knows when I’m gonna see you again now I’m actually being sent into combat and not just back to Camp McCoy. You know, London is a little further afield than Wisconsin “

“I’m well aware of that.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“So come on! Let’s go, have some fun. Cut loose a little. It’ll do you good.”

Steve looked up to see Bucky’s eyes shining with mischief, his handsome face grinning at him and he rolled his eyes “Fine, but you’re buying the hotdogs.”

“What else is new?” Bucky grinned, grabbing Steve in a headlock and ruffling his hair a little.

“Jerk.” Steve said furiously, pushing him away.

*****

A couple of hours later the two of them entered the Expo, Steve taking in the sights around him. It was crazy busy, a buzz of excitement around the air and it was hardly surprising. Howard Stark, the guy at the centre of it all was somewhat of a celebrity. He’d founded his company some four years ago at the age of twenty-two, and it had grown from strength to strength, with numerous pioneering technological advances to his name. Steve would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little excited to see the latest and no doubt flamboyant invention the guy had come up with, but his mind was still on his failed Army application, the feeling of inadequacy exacerbated even more by the fact Bucky was going to be leaving him behind to serve his country, something that Steve felt he should be doing right along with his best pal.

Sensing his brooding nature, Bucky nudged him and opened his mouth no doubt to make some wise crack, but Steve shook his head.

“Buck, just don’t”

“I don’t see what the problem is.” Bucky shook his head as they wandered down the steps towards the main pavilion area “You’re about to be the last eligible man in New York.” Bucky grinned, and Steve sighed heavily. Yup, there it was. “You know, there’s three and a half million women here.”

“Well, I’d settle for just one.” Steve muttered and Bucky grinned, Steve allowing a little smile to spread across his face at his own joke.

“Good thing I took care of that.” Bucky grinned and waved to two girls, a blonde and a brunette, who stood a few feet away and Steve stopped dead as one of the girls waved back, calling out to Bucky.

Great, here we go again.

“What did you tell her about me?” Steve groaned. “Only the good stuff.” Bucky smirked as they walked towards the girls, Steve brushing his hand through his hair, making sure it was as tidy as he could.

Bucky introduced the girls as Connie and Bonnie. It was obvious from the start that Connie was the one Bucky was trying his luck with, although to be fair Bonnie might as well have been with Bucky too for all the attention she paid to Steve. As they wandered into the Pavilion, Steve stopped to purchase a bag of sweets before he followed on behind the other 3, glancing around at the various exhibits.

“Welcome to the Modern Marvels Pavilion and the World of Tomorrow.” The expo announcer spoke “A greater world. A better world.”

There was a little bit of murmuring from people in front of them as they stopped, glancing at the large stage in front of them which was currently dark, but then there was movement, music struck up and Connie grabbed Bucky’s arm in excitement.

“Oh, my God! It’s starting!” She squealed and yanked on Bucky’s hand, pulling him closer. As Steve stood behind them he saw the stage light up to reveal a row of women all dressed in black and white striped waistcoats, short jackets and top hats. One of them walked across the front of the stage, smiling as she spoke into a microphone

“Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Howard Stark!”

Smooth and cool as a cucumber, Howard Stark strode onto the stage, taking off his top hat, whilst he smiled, handing it to the announcer before kissing her as the crowd cheered. Howard smirked a little, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket which he used to dab at his mouth before he addressed his audience.

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” at that point Steve held the small paper bag over towards Bonnie who looked at it, then him, almost scathingly as Howard continued his speech. “What if I told you that in just a few short years, your automobile won’t even have to touch the ground at all?”

“You know…” A vaguely familiar voice spoke and Steve looked up from where he had been examining his bag of bonbons, wondering what was wrong with them, to see the woman from the shop a few days ago, Katie stood to the side of Bonnie. She was dressed in a simple grey dress which sported a pencil style skirt, with a light blue cardigan covering her shoulders. “When a gentleman offers you a sweet and you don’t want one, there’s really no need to be such a rude bitch about it.”

Her eyes were narrowed as she gave Bonnie a scathing look. Bonnie floundered a little as Katie reached out, dipping her red nailed, manicured hand into the paper bag and taking a bonbon. In doing so, she jostled Bonnie forward a little with her elbow, and turned to the stage, popping the bonbon in her mouth, giving Steve a little wink. Steve felt his cheeks flush as Bucky turned, his attention drawn to the slight scuffle behind him. He saw Katie stood next to Steve and he grinned.

“Hey Dollface!” Katie turned her head and looked at Bucky as Steve rolled his eyes. However, just like at the shop, she payed Bucky no attention other than a flick of her eyebrow, before her eyes moved back to the stage, Steve doing the same to see that Stark was now stood by some sort of podium.

“With Stark robotic reversion technology, you’ll be able to do just that.” Howard spoke, and with that he turned to fiddle with a few switches on the podium and the car started to hover ever so slightly off the ground. Steve felt his mouth drop open in awe as in front of him Bucky let out an astonished mumble.

“Holy cow!”

But he spoke too soon, as the jets making the car hover suddenly malfunctioned and the car fell back onto the stage with a loud crash, sparks flying out round it.

Bucky turned to look at Steve, smiling as Steve’s eyebrows raised, and besides him, Katie gave a snort.

“I did say a few years, didn’t I?” Howard laughed, leaning on the bonnet of the car.

“Few years my ass.” Katie mumbled and Steve looked at her.

“What?”

“Nothing, doesn’t matter.” She shook her head. “Listen, I gotta go-”

“Oh, ok.” Steve tried not to sound disappointed but Katie smiled at him softly, cutting him off.

“Meet me at the Cider cart in an hour.”

“I err…” Steve stuttered, before he frowned. “You sure, you wanna meet me?”

“If I didn’t I wouldn’t have said so.” Katie grinned. “One hour, don’t you dare be late.”

“Yeah, an hour, got it.”

Not quite able to believe his luck, Steve watched her go, smiling to himself before he glanced around and his eyes stopped on the familiar Uncle Sam poster pointing at him, with an arrow directing him to a recruitment centre. What the hell, he had nothing to lose…and an hour was plenty of time. Decision made, he followed the signs and jogged up the steps into the building, pausing to take a look around as people were milling in the carpeted hallway.

“Come on soldier!” a woman giggled at her male company, pulling him away from a mirror making him look like a soldier. Once he was gone Steve stepped in front of the mirror but he was too short to fill out the face. His shoulders slumped and then suddenly, a strong hand gripped his right and Bucky chuckled.

“You’re kind of missing the point of a double date.” He said, shaking his head as Steve stepped away, turning to face him “We’re taking the girls dancing.”

“You go ahead. I’ll catch up with you.” Steve replied, hands dropping into his pockets.

“What, you had a better offer? From Dollface?”

“Her name is Katie.”

“Oh my God I’m right!” Bucky laughed. “Good for you, Punk!”

Steve rolled his eyes and then watched as a man strode past him in an Army Uniform and when Steve looked back at Bucky, his friend’s face now sported an exasperated expression as he’d clearly realised what Steve was planning. “You’re really gonna do this again?”

“Well, it’s a fair. I’m gonna try my luck.” Steve answered with a little shrug.

“As who? Steve from Ohio? They’ll catch you. Or worse, they’ll actually take you.” Bucky’s voice was frustrated and Steve gave a little smile.

“Look, I know you don’t think I can do this, but I’m more-“

“This isn’t a back alley, Steve. It’s war!” Bucky cut him off.

“I know it’s a war. You don’t have to tell me that-“ “Why are you so keen to fight? There are so many important jobs.” “What am I gonna do? Collect scrap metal-“

“Yes!”

“-in my little red wagon?”

“Why not?”

“I’m not gonna sit in a factory, Bucky.” Steve argued, shaking his head.

“I don’t…” Bucky protested once more and Steve cut him off.

“Bucky, come on! There are men laying down their lives. I got no right to do any less than them. That’s what you don’t understand. This isn’t about me.”

“Right. Cause you got nothing to prove.” Bucky said gently and Steve took a deep breath. But before Bucky could say anything else Connie called out to him.

“Hey, Sarge! Are we going dancing?”

Bucky turned back to the girls, his arms held out to the side. “Yes, we are.” With that he turned back to Steve, shaking his head a little, his shoulders slumped in resignation. “Don’t do anything stupid until I get back.” He instructed as he started to walk away.

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” Steve shot back and Bucky shook his head, giving a snort.

“You’re a punk.” He walked back towards Steve and hugged him goodbye.

“Jerk” Steve said gently slapping Bucky’s back. “Be careful.”

With a pang of sadness, Steve watched his best friend walking away, not quite sure when they’d see each other again, if indeed ever. He licked his lips and then called out to Bucky once more. “Don’t win the war till I get there!”

Bucky stopped and saluted him before he strode down the steps, “Come on girls. They’re playing our song.”

With a deep breath, Steve headed into the recruitment centre, past an older gentlemen in a brown suit. He was given the usual forms to fill out, this time going with Ohio as his place of birth-thanks for that one, Buck- and he was shown to the medical examination room. After the short physical was over, he was just fastening the sleeves of his long shirt up again when a nurse walked into the room and whispered something inaudible to the doctor.

“Wait here.” The Doctor turned to him, moving to the curtain.

“Is there a problem?” Steve asked, frowning a little.

“Just wait here.” The doctor repeated his instruction before he walked out.

Steve paused for a second, glancing over his right shoulder at a sign warning against lying on enlistment forms before he glanced at the curtain, cold dread filling him. Shit, Bucky was right, they’d caught up with him. Jumping down off the bed he sat heavily in a chair and began to pull on his shoes when someone entered the cubicle. He glanced up and saw a Military Police officer looking at him and he swallowed a little nervously. But before he could say anything another man entered, the man Steve had walked past about forty minutes or so previously in the foyer, and he was clutching a file in his hands.

“Thank you.” The man spoke to the Police Officer who left, pulling the curtains closed behind him. Steve watched as the man turned to face him, his hands behind his back. “So, you want to go overseas.” The man pulled the file from behind him, opening it “Kill some Nazis.”

“Excuse me?”

“Dr. Abraham Erskine.” The man closed the folder and walked over as Steve stood up, shaking his hand “I represent the Strategic Scientific Reserve.”

“Steve Rogers” Steve nodded, noting the man’s accent as he placed the file on the medical bed and started to look through it. “Where are you from?”

“Queens. 73rd Street and Utopia Parkway. Before that, Germany.” He adjusted his glasses as he glanced at Steve “This troubles you?”

“No.” Steve replied honestly, shaking his head.

“Where are you from, Mr. Rogers?” Erskine asked, resting both his hands on the bench “Mmm? Is it New Haven? Or Paramus? Five exams in five different cities.”

“That might not be the right file.” Steve began to try and get out of whatever trouble he was in but Erskine was quick to cut him off.

“No, it’s not the exams I’m interested in. It’s the five tries.” Erskine closed the file, picking it up “But you didn’t answer my question.” He strode over and stopped in front of Steve “Do you want to kill Nazis?”

Steve glanced to the side before he looked at Erskine “Is this a test?”

“Yes.” The man replied bluntly and Steve took a deep breath, before he answered as honestly as he could.

“I don’t wanna kill anyone.” He shook his head, raising his eyes to meet Erskine’s “I don’t like bullies. I don’t care where they’re from.”

“Well, there are already so many big men fighting this war. Maybe what we need now is the little guy, huh?” Erskine smiled before he turned to leave “I can offer you a chance” he said, whipping the curtains open “Only a chance.”

Steve couldn’t believe his ears. Was this Doctor guy actually telling him he’d done it, that he’d finally made it into the army? He had no idea what the Strategic Science Reserve was, or why Erskine had questioned him so, but right now he didn’t care.

“I’ll take it.” He said, hastily grabbing his belongings and following Erskine out.

“Good.” Erskine placed the file down on the desk and picked up a stamp, before replacing it and reaching for another “So where is the little guy from, actually?”

Steve smiled “Brooklyn.”

Erskine smiled back, stamped the form before closing the file and handing it to Steve. “Congratulations, soldier.”

Steve hastily opened it up and did a double take as he saw the stamp was a 1A this time, not 4f. He let out a deep breath and glanced up to thank the man, but he’d already left.

“You’ll be sent your papers and instructions shortly” Another man spoke to him, taking the file off him and handing him back the recruitment slip. Steve nodded. “Be ready, the SSR are on a schedule.”

Steve nodded, before he was shown out of the room. Still in a daze he clutched the piece of paper in his hand and wandered back to the area where he’d left Bucky before. And then he remembered Katie.

Shit.

He hastily made his way outside the building and headed back to the pavilion, weaving his way through the crowds. He found the cider cart and saw her waiting, chatting to the man behind the counter, her brown hair hanging round her shoulders, rouged lips which curled up into a smile as she spotted him approaching.

“You’re late.” Katie looked at him and Steve flushed. “I was beginning to thing you’d stood me up.”

“I wouldn’t do that, my ma taught me better.” He gave her a small smile “I was just...” he waved his enlistment paper at her and she frowned a little

“You enlisted?”

He nodded “Yup.” “Wow.” Katie blinked, “Erm, congratulations, I guess. Is that the right word?”

“It is when you’ve tried and been rejected several times already.” Steve shrugged before he snorted “Story of my life.”

“That girl before was fuckin’ rude.” Katie’s eyes narrowed and Steve blinked at the profanity coming from her mouth before she rolled her eyes. “Don’t look at me like that!”

“Like what?”

“Like the fact I swore means I’m gonna go to hell.” She snorted “If it does, then I got that particular ticket a long time ago.”

“Sorry, I was…” he took a deep breath. “For such a pretty woman you certainly…er…”

“Have a filthy mouth?” She asked and Steve snorted, shrugging as he looked away, his lips curling up into a crooked smile as he raised his eyebrows. She leaned closer to him, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered “You have no idea.”

Steve swallowed at the blatant innuendo causing her to laugh at him even more before she nudged him with her elbow “Come on soldier, what do you want to drink?”

Soldier…that was the second time in ten minutes he’d been called that, and Steve liked it much more coming from her. He watched her for a second before he realised he was staring and she jerked her head towards the stall.

“Cat got your tongue, Stevie?” She grinned and he took a deep breath. “What do you want?”

“Erm, an ale…please…hang on.” He began fishing in his pocket but Katie gently wrapped a hand around his wrist.

“No need.” She smiled, as the man behind the counter held out the ale for Steve along with a cup of cider for her. She took it with a thanks and smiled, taking a sip. “Put it on the tab, will you?”

The stall attendant snorted and nodded “Whatever you say, Katie.”

She turned away and started walking slowly over to an exhibit, Steve falling into step besides her.

“How does he know ya?” Steve asked. Katie looked at him as she swallowed a sip of her cider

“Because I work here,well, I do at the moment.” She smiled as Steve looked at her blankly “I helped organise this.” She waved her hand around.

“You work for Howard Stark?”

“In a fashion.” Katie shrugged. “Now come on, I’m not working now and I wanna see how everything looks.”

They walked around the expo grounds, taking in the sights and various attractions. Steve was surprised to find his awkwardness ebbing away with each minute he spent in Katie’s company. She was down to Earth, easy to talk to and made him feel comfortable about himself…although his good spirits might have also been due to the fact he’d finally made it into the army. His meeting with Dr Erskine had baffled him a little, all truth be told, but he’d liked the man. There was something about him that told Steve he could trust him, and Steve was normally a pretty good judge of character.

By the time they’d done pretty much a lap of the main area of the Pavillion, stopping to examine The Synthetic Man in great detail, Steve was surprised to find that he’d spent over an hour with a woman who hadn’t been seeking to lose him at the first opportunity, quite the opposite in fact. On more than one occasion he noticed men looking in her direction, then to his with puzzled expressions on their face, and he had to admit was it the other way round he’d also probably be slightly surprised to see them together. She was a good two inches taller than him, but he was used to that, she was pretty, vivacious…well out of his league all things considered. But she was good company, and he was thoroughly disappointed when they seemed to be heading back towards the place they’d started, signalling their time together was likely coming to an end.

“So, do you need to find Barnes or…” she looked at him and Steve chuckled.

“Er no, no. He’ll be busy.” Steve shrugged

“What, he just ditched you for those girls?” Katie frowned.

“No, not entirely. I ditched him, well, I went to join the army. He doesn’t approve.” Steve finished, explaining slightly.

“Approve of what?”

“Me signin’ up.

“Why not?”

“Doesn’t think I can cope.” Steve shrugged. “I wasn’t exactly a healthy kid so…”

“Well they let you in so you can’t be that bad.”

Steve wrinkled his nose and shook his head slightly. “Some doctor in there offered me a chance, what can I say? Said that there were so many big guys fighting, maybe they needed a little one.”

At that Katie stopped walking and looked at him. “Wait, it was a doctor that accepted you?”

“Yeah,” Steve frowned

“You mean one of the Medical Recruitment Officers?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Steve’s frown deepened “He was with some Scientific Division.” He looked at Katie, who was looking right back at him, her eyes wide “Wait, is there something wrong?”

“No, nothing, just surprised me a little, that’s all.” She looked around, as if she was searching for someone and Steve watched her, a little confused as she chewed her lip with an air of contemplation before she looked back at him, her green eyes locking onto his with a softness in them that made him go weak at the knees, well, weaker than normal. “Thank you for keeping me company tonight Steve, I had fun.”

“Me too.” He said earnestly. “Hey, if you want, I mean only if you want, we could maybe meet up again, you know, before I get my posting?” At that Katie’s face fell and Steve sighed, he’d blown it. She’d only asked him to accompany her round he expo out of politeness, duty even as a thank you for his intervention on the street a few weeks back, and now he’d put her on the spot. “It’s okay.” He started to back track. “I get that you’re probably busy and get asked that all the time…”

“No, it’s not that.” She shook her head “I’d love to go out with you Steve, but I leave town tomorrow. I’m needed back at, well, my other job.”

“Oh, okay.” Steve popped a shoulder up, trying to hide his disappointment. “Well, I err…good luck. With whatever that job is.”

Katie laughed. “It’s me who should be wishing you good luck, trust me.” She cocked her head before she took a deep breath. “Just remember Steve, the world needs men like you, be a shame if we lost you all in the war.”

At her compliment he felt himself once more flush, and the heat in his neck rose even more as she leaned down and pressed her lips softly to his cheek. She pulled back a little, locking her eyes onto his and he swallowed, the lump in his throat now only rivalled by the one he was starting to feel in his slacks. And then, he had no idea how it happened but her lips were suddenly pressed to his. He froze momentarily, but then he went with his instinct and mirrored her movements, his eyes fluttering closed. Her hands gently curled over his shoulder, his automatically falling to her hips, shaking a little against the fabric of her dress as the kiss deepened slightly, the warm edge of her tongue flicking at his lips. He parted his mouth a little, allowing her to curl her tongue against his, a movement that made him shudder and he was beyond disappointed when she pulled away. She smiled against his mouth, her nose bumping his slightly as his cheeks felt hotter than the sun. He knew he was blushing, furiously, having just had his first proper kiss in the middle of a huge exhibition, but Katie seemed completely nonplussed as she smiled at him.

“For luck.” She whispered, stepping back slightly, before she turned and headed away, casting a glance back over her shoulder at him, flashing him another cheeky little wink. “See you around.”

Steve floundered a little, mouth gaping as he watched her disappear into the crowd, and with a final shake of his head and a deep, steadying breath he headed for the exit.

*****

 As it turned out Steve didn’t have long to wait for his posting at all. The following day he received his papers assigning him to Camp Lehigh in New Jersey as part of his recruitment to the SSR’s “Operation Rebirth” programme, whatever that was. He assumed he’d receive more details upon arrival. It wasn’t that which surprised him the most however, it was the date upon which he was ordered to report. Wednesday. As in, tomorrow. Whilst it didn’t give him much time to prepare, it didn’t bother him too much. He had meagre belongings anyways and anything he didn’t want to take with him he packed up into smaller boxes with the help of Bucky’s teenage sister Rebecca, Buck’s dad promising to keep it safe for him until he got back.

Winnie was beside herself when Steve broke the news that he too was enlisting, but she wished him well and made him promise to write. As did the Tromleys, who both took the news even worse than Bucky’s family had. Ada having first burst into tears then hugged him so hard he thought she was going to crush him half to death, whilst Mr Tromley had shook his hand and warned him that if he didn’t come back alive, with all 4 limbs, he’d kill Steve himself.

The morning rolled round ridiculously fast and both the Tromleys and Mr and Mrs Barnes insisted on seeing him off.  Once more Ada and Winnie hugged him tightly before Mr Tromley and Mr Barnes shook his hand, the latter promising Steve he would sort out everything with his landlord, taking the key to his small apartment in the tenement building where Steve had lived in all his life. Steve felt a little pang of emotion at that point, this was the last physical tie he really had to his mother but he took a deep breath letting it go slowly. She’d been dead now for seven years and anything that remained of hers in the building was all safely stored.

No, Steve had absolutely no doubts about what he was doing. This was all he had ever wanted, to follow in his father’s footsteps and so, at six am on the 16th June 1943 Steve Rogers boarded the Army bus that arrived at the bus station to take him and a number of other recruits to New Jersey, leaving the place he’d called home for his entire life behind.

**** Chapter 2

[therosevest]

happy hawkins holiday hiatus to @mikewheelerthepaladin !! here’s a lighthearted fic + a playlist of songs i listened to a lot while writing, i hope you enjoy 🥳

& a big thank you to @sevensided for putting this together, it’s been super fun <3

It’s the first time he’s been in over a year, really, but he’d entertained the thought of asking Will over the summer, for one last challenge before he left. It never happened, everything went by too fast; and, honestly, Mike didn’t know how to talk to him with the goddamn weight of everything - hi, we’ve barely spoken in the last year and we just almost died, again, and now you’re moving away forever - wanna hang out?

It’s the first time he’s been in over a year, really, but he’d entertained the thought of asking Will over the summer, for one last challenge before he left. It never happened, everything went by too fast; and, honestly, Mike didn’t know how to talk to him with the goddamn weight of everything - hi, we’ve barely spoken in the last year and we just almost died, again, and now you’re moving away forever - wanna hang out?

It’d never been that hard.

And it sucked. The whole thing. Now that Will is gone, it gnaws at him daily that they could have had more time together. Or a proper goodbye, at least. Instead, he spent a lot of time last summer sitting around, figuring out how to approach El and his feelings toward her, and most of all, alone.

But now the Byers are coming home for Christmas. And staying with The Wheelers, on top of it all.

So, seeking some sort of cryptic universal answer to his life problems, Mike returns to the place of a lot of younger memories, of crowding around machines with Lucas and Dustin and Will, a conglomeration of shouting and booing and cheering when one of them topped a high score, of frantically patting down their pockets for a few extra coins.

All of these wistful memories come to halt, however, when he finds a familiar redhead occupying one of their favorite games.

Max glances at him through the screen. “What do you want?”

“Uh, to play?” Honestly, he doesn’t care; he’s not sure he could focus enough to win much anyway. “Kicking your ass would be a plus.”

“Yeah, as if.” Her gaze fixes back on the colorful pixels dancing in front of her face.

Okay, well, she’s not moving anytime soon. He could probably just walk away, but a part of him wants company, even if it’s from someone hellbent on disagreeing with him.

Even when the Party hangs out now, Mike finds himself bickering with Max over what movies to see, where to eat, nearly anything, even when he doesn’t really give a shit. It’s the principle of the thing, and she gets under his skin. 

Maybe it’s a good thing.

Mike sighs, leans against one of the neighboring games, and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I don’t really know why I’m here.”

“Well, if you’re looking for me to throw pity money at you, it’s not happening.” After a beat, and losing the level, she kicks at the machine and turns to him. “Now look what you made me do. All your moping and talking - I could’ve beaten that if you would just leave me alone.”

He offers a quarter.

“Forget it.”

“I’ll buy you a pop, then.” She glares at him. “Seriously, okay, this is the first and only olive branch. Take it or leave it.”

After a moment of scowling at him, her arms folded, she slowly concedes, a smug look taking over. “Okay. I’ll take it, Wheeler.”

“So, you’re stalking me at the arcade because… of nothing?”

Mike presses his lips into a line. “I’m not stalking you,” he says, “and it’s not - it’s not nothing. I was gonna ask Lucas or Dustin to come, but… I felt like I needed to be here alone.”

Max sips on her drink. “That didn’t work out.”

“Guess not.”

“So you did need to talk to someone.”

“Guess so.”

God, this is borderline painful. Sitting in a shoddy little booth across from Max, whom he never once intended to have a heart-to-heart with, is a new level of desperation. But here they are.

With the most grandiose sigh he’s ever heard in his life, Max straightens in her chair. “Well, I don’t love giving advice to annoying teenage boys, but I’ve been told I’m good at it. Advice, you know.”

Mike raises an eyebrow. “Was it El who said that, by chance?”

“Bite me.”

Amused, Mike smiles, and he slides the near-empty cup between his hands like a little game, something else to focus on. “Okay, fine, give me some advice.”

Max frowns at him like he’s the biggest idiot in the world. “Maybe give me a situation to work with?” She mutters something under her breath that he doesn’t bother with.

“Well, the Byers are coming home and staying with us, and I wanted to come up with something really nice to do, you know. I know that they’re really nervous because it’s… the holidays have been rough, the past few years.” He finishes his drink and stares at the lid. “They almost refused. So, I dunno, I figured I could do something to make them feel like it’s still home.”

“Oh,” Max nods, finally breaking into a slight smile, “well, cool, you could set up something really romantic for El! She’d love it.”

Right. The girlfriend. 

He had no clue where the hell they left things when the Byers moved. About a month ago, Mike called to tell her the distance was confusing and they might need to take a break. He figured she would’ve told Max because, from his understanding, they spoke on the phone on an almost daily basis.

“Sure - yeah, yeah, that’s - it’s a good idea. For sure.”

Max falls back into a confused squint. “Was there something else you had in mind?”

Mike isn’t sure how to get it out without sounding like a total airhead. So he copes with it the best way he can. “You know what, this was dumb. I’ll figure it out myself.” He grabs his jacket and stands to leave.

“No, no, Mike - I want to help.” She’s looking up at him with a genuinely nice expression, holding out a hand to stop him from fully up and leaving. “I’m really good at this stuff, just let me know what I can do. No judgment. I swear.”

“I have to get home tonight anyway,” Mike says cautiously. “Told my mom I’d help with dinner.”

“Can I come over tomorrow?”

He frowns, and something digging at his stomach makes him respond with, “Why do you care?”

Max’s jaw sets. She stands up to meet his eye level and sets a look on him. “Even if I didn’t, even if I couldn’t care less about you, Mike, I care about El. And Will. And I want to be a part of their homecoming. So maybe you could figure out a way to not be a dick about it.” She snatches her drink cup and storms off from the table, leaving Mike to scramble after her with more apologies.

He’s gotta get better at this whole ‘girls’ thing.

He catches up to her outside. “Okay, listen - come over after school tomorrow. We can meet outside by the stairs.”

She barely turns to him, says, “Fine,” and then hops on her bike and rides away.

That’s how Mike ends up with Max in his basement, slowly walking and examining his things, but not touching any of them, thankfully.

It’s going alright, thus far. A part of him feels like he should reach out to Lucas and Dustin, too, since they’re also Will’s best friends. But something about this… works. He and Max can’t seem to stay entirely civil in each other’s company, but she gets something. And she hasn’t brought up El even once since yesterday.

“So, I’m gonna come up with a really cool campaign - well, I’ve been working on it, and I can tell you about it - “ Max lifts herself on tiptoe in his peripheral vision, “ - but anyway, we can pull an all-nighter, if everyone’s up for it, and make snacks and drinks and stuff, and we can have movies on for you guys, and I thought I might even look for some costumes because I really think Will would get a kick out of it. I can put lights up, too - “

“You draw?”

Max’s back is to him, as she’s looking over his wall of posters and pinned pictures. As he steps closer, he realizes her eyes are fixed on a sketch that definitely bears some resemblance to him.

“No, Will sent me those,” he says quickly, not wanting to seem like a giant narcissist, because Will’s drawing is - how can he say it - beautiful. “He’s been using charcoal a lot recently, he told me he got some new art stuff. I think he wants to send one of all of us.”

Max turns to him, and he can’t tell if she’s tearing up for some reason, but she quickly wipes any sign of tears away. “That’s so neat,” is all she says at first. There’s a small silence between them, and she’s just looking at him, and he has no idea what the hell he should say. “He’s such a good person,” she adds quietly, “I wish I got the chance to really know him.”

Mike’s breath hitches for a few seconds. “Yeah. I mean, he mentioned hanging out with you a few times.”

A smile lifts the girl’s cheeks. “Yeah, to bitch about you, mostly.”

“Hey!” he protests, but he can’t help but smile too, this time. This might just be their most pleasant interaction to date. “He never mentioned that.”

“I don’t know how he could, all you freakin’ do is talk.”

“Whatever.” Mike messes with some Christmas crafts on the table, holding them up in his vision to see where they might fit in the basement. He clears his throat. “You know, El and I, uh - we split.”

Max nods slowly. “She said you guys don’t call much.”

“No, we didn’t. I mean, I don’t even call Will, we just write.” He leans against the table, eyes glazing over as he looks over years of memories, dorky craft nights, and shitty school projects that he or his mom made a point to keep. “It’s too hard to talk - to either of them, you know. I didn’t think I could hear their voices without…”

Max cuts him off. “I get it.” She crosses over to the table, helping him pull apart old paper snowflakes. “I’m just the opposite. I’m scared if I don’t talk to them, I’ll convince myself it was all fake. And maybe it’d be for the better, but I’m glad I knew them. Even if only for a little while.”

Mike bites down on his lips, attempting to bury all the emotion threatening to spew out of him. “Yeah.”

Max finally looks up at him, and though they seem to have shared a moment, she snaps back out of it. “All offense, Mike, these are ugly as shit. I’m helping you make new ones, okay?”

“It’s for the memory!”

“No more living in the past.” She raises her eyebrows at him, and he pinches his face in annoyance, so she says, “Okay, you can put them up, in like, little corners, but we’re making new ones. Surprise. Work with me here, Michael.”

“It’s my basement, Max.”

“Did you or did you not ask for my help?”

Mike blinks. “Not really.”

She throws a crafty paper star at him. “Shut up, you’re glad I’m here.”

He shakes his head and moves on, but though he may never admit it, a part of him really is glad.

Weeks pass in what feels like a span of days or maybe hours, with Mike and Max sorting out their surprise plans with a typical amount of bickering - but hey, they get it done. Max has lots of opinions about decorations and music that make Mike roll his eyes, but she’s got a good eye and she offers to help with baking, which is not a strong suit of his. Yes, they throw a lot of streamers at each other, and threaten to storm out every other hour, but it gets done.

And the day is finally here.

Mike pulls himself into his best festive sweater and eyes himself in the mirror. He messes with his hair, though the long, wavy curls never seem to fall exactly into place - maybe growing it out was a mistake - and tugs at the creases of his sweater, letting out a huffy breath. None of it is working with him. When he can’t stand looking at himself anymore, he dashes down to the kitchen to help his mom with desserts.

She smiles when he plops into a seat. “You okay, honey? You seem a little tense.”

Mike jolts. “Uh, yeah, just excited.”

“Good! Joyce said the kids haven’t stopped talking about the trip for weeks.”

Great. “I hope we live up to the hype.”

“Oh, Mike. You know you don’t have to try that hard.” Karen stops frosting for a moment to look at him. “Will’s your best friend. El is excited to see you,” she nudges at him, and he coughs out a nervous laugh, “and Joyce thinks you’re an angel-”

“God, mom-”

“I’m serious. Don’t worry so much.” She leans forward on her forearms. “I know you think every problem in the world is on you, but it’s not. It’s enough just to be around the people you love. If anything, you’ve gone overboard.”

Overboard. Hopefully, it’s not too much.

Finally, he caves, exhaling slowly with a simple, “Okay.” He stays beside her, tapping his fingers, and eventually ruining a gingerbread man’s face until she notices and smacks his hand away.

There’s a knock on the door, and while Mike hops to his feet, his mother calls out, “Come in!” earning a panicked look from him. She mouths, ‘Chill,’ but he still half-jogs to the door and throws it open.

Nancy calls down the stairs, “Who is it?”

It’s Max, brandishing a few small wrapped gifts.

“Hello, sunshine,” she says. After a moment, “It’s great to see you too, Michael, allow me to invite myself in.”

“It’s just Max,” Mike calls back. He steps aside, and Max brushes past him, dropping her gifts by their tree and running into the kitchen. 

“Hi, Mrs. Wheeler!”

“Hey, Max, Merry Christmas!”

Mike’s mom seemed to think Max was one of the most charming people on the planet, something they frequently disagreed on, but he can’t be mad at their pleasant chatter right now.

Especially not when the next knock comes so soon.

Probably just Lucas and Dustin, dragging their feet as usual.

Mike opens the door, prepared with a quippy remark for his friends, but his stomach drops immediately.

It’s Will. Holding a bunch of luggage.

Mike is caught up in everything about him. He’s taller. New, floppy hair, tousled and messy in the biting snowy winds. His forearms exposed as his bags push against his jacket. Will.

The boy smiles at him. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Mike manages.

Will looks past him with a tiny wave, and Mike turns to see Max beaming and waving back, and then Max slips back into the kitchen and Will returns his gaze to Mike. “Can I come in?”

“Hey, Mike!” Joyce interrupts from the car, straining to grab something in the backseat. “Merry Christmas, honey!”

“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Byers!” Mike, finally catching up his brain-to-movement reactions, moves to let Will in. “Yeah, come in. I’m gonna, uh, go help your mom.”

“Cool.”

He immediately forgets why he’s moved and attempts to step out as Will crosses the threshold, almost knocking him over, so Mike grabs his arms to stabilize with a, “Sorry - uh - whoops, haha, don’t fall,” and Will chuckles and shifts a bag to his shoulder, saying, “It’s alright,” and Mike spends his walk to the Byers’ car trying not to curse himself out.

“Oh, Mike, thank you, sweetie,” Joyce grunts, pulling a heavy tote bag from the floor of the car. “Can you carry this?” Mike nods and takes it from her easily, offering his arms out for extra luggage. Together, with Jonathan, who greets him with a, “Merry Christmas, man,” they manage to get everything inside in one trip. Mike hardly notices El rummaging through the trunk until she comes stumbling along with a basket full of gifts.

Finally, they’re all inside, and only a beat goes by before Nancy comes bounding down the stairs to greet Jonathan, and Joyce is grinning around at everybody, and then Karen rushes in from the kitchen with excited greetings.

“It is so good to see you,” Joyce says, opening her arms up to Mike for a hug. “You’ve grown so much-'' she looks at Karen and mutters, “-so much-” then looks back at Mike. “We’ve missed you all.”

“I’ve missed you guys too,” Mike says, “I’m glad you decided to come.”

“We couldn’t miss it. Figured it’s best that we’re together, you know.” Her expression falters, but she takes a breath and carries on with moving bags and ‘Merry Christmases.’

Joyce and his mom wind up chattering, and Karen takes off her apron to help transfer some luggage to the spare room. Nancy takes Jonathan’s hand and heads upstairs, grabbing one of his bags from the ground.

Will seems to have disappeared into the kitchen with Max, leaving his things behind, so it’s just Mike and El.

Mike takes in a deep breath.

It wasn’t an ugly breakup; honestly, El seemed unfazed. Their calls were little more than small talk about their days, most of the time, and even though he thought they might hold onto their past, everything they’d been through… it seemed to work best that they didn’t.

“Hey, Merry Christmas.”

El smiles easily. “Merry Christmas, Mike.” She lifts the basket slightly for acknowledgment. “Can these go by the tree?”

“Yeah, yeah, go for it.”

El nods and slips by the couch over to the tree, carefully laying out the gifts. After a few moments of Mike awkwardly leaning against the couch arm, thinking up something to say - thank god she didn’t seem too focused on him - Max walks in, her mouth stuffed with a truffle.

“El!” She darts over to the tree, and El jumps up, eyes bright, immediately throwing her arms around the girl’s shoulders. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” El giggles. “I brought you a gift.”

“You too. I can’t wait for you to see it. But first, you have to try one of these sweets Mrs. Wheeler’s making. They’re like frickin’ heaven.” She holds out the last bite of her own, and El takes it from her hand, eyes lighting up mischievously as she bites into it.

“It’s amazing.”

“I know. I think we should go sample some of the others.”

Mike calls out to their backs, “You guys better leave some for later on,” and in response, hears Max mimic him. He rolls his eyes and stands up from the couch.

And then it’s just him and Will, who’s beaming at him, seemingly amused by their banter.

Okay, Mike, now or never. “Uh, I’ll show you downstairs.”

“We’re not staying in your room?” Will asks simply, crossing over to retrieve his duffel bag.

“We totally can, I just have something I wanted to show you.”

Will nods. “Oh, okay, cool.”

Mike assists with a smaller bag and leads him to the basement door; before he runs down the stairs, he catches Max’s eye, and she gives him a thumbs up and mouths, ‘You got this.’ Deep breaths. At that moment, he’s incredibly thankful for her presence. 

He watches as Will follows him down, slower, glancing around at the familiar surroundings. His eyes catch on everything Mike and Max put together over the past few weeks, and his footsteps grow slower as he takes it all in.

Streamers of all festive colors and off-balance fairy lights hang along the corners of the basement, phrases of ‘Welcome home,’ hand-cut and pasted on the front wall; at the table, a game mat and figures sit in wait, silly hats placed in front each chair; even the TV is prepared with a Santa hat, the couch covered in blankets and pillows, a few sleeping bags folded on the floor.

“Mike,” Will says quietly, stepping in a small circle, “what is all this?”

“Your homecoming party.” Mike is all jitters; he leans against the wall and shoves his hands in his pockets to disguise any visible shakes. “You like it?”

Will finally looks straight at him, an indiscernible look painted on his face. “Yeah,” he says, nodding rapidly, “yeah, it’s great - but we, uh,” he swallows and shakes his head, “we don’t, um, have to play D&D. I mean-”

“I don’t know, Will,” he ventures to step away from the wall, taking slow steps over to the table. Will follows every move. “I mean, I was really excited to have you back, even just for a little bit. We all were.” He reaches the table and leans back on his hands. “Figured having our cleric back warranted some festivities.”

Will shakes his head, runs his hands along his face, and turns away. The bit of confidence Mike has slowly starts to trickle.

“Is it okay?”

Will shakes out of his stupor and chuckles. “It’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. You’ve truly outdone yourself, Michael.” He lifts himself on tiptoe to look at decorations on top of Mike’s shelves. “Are these from our big craft night, like, years ago?”

The horrible crayon work makes Mike smile - they made half of the snowmen evil, citing a Great Abominable Snowman War, and gave them wicked frowns and smiles, claws on their stick hands. “Yeah.”

“I didn’t know you kept them.”

“I keep everything.” An awkward chuckle breaks from his chest. “Not everything, like, a hoarder or whatever, but - “

Will simply smiles and pushes himself forward toward the back wall, brushing past Mike, to his different pinups. He fixates on the sketch of Mike that he’d sent about a month back. “You know, you should probably take this down. I don’t think you’ll hear the end of it from Lucas and Dustin if you don’t.”

“Screw ‘em.”

“Right.” Will quirks his eyebrow and moves to sit in his designated chair, right next to where Mike is currently resting. “So, they know about D&D?”

“They know.” Mike smiles, and looks at the floor, right where their legs brush up against each other. “They seem pretty excited to have the party back together. To remind you of how badass your first one was,” he adds.

Will peers up at him for a moment before quietly saying, “I never joined another one.” Mike meets his eye for a moment, then, threatened by the silence that follows, clears his throat and distracts himself with a particularly interesting notch in the wood paneling. “Did you guys find someone else?”

“No, no,” Mike assures him. “We haven’t touched any of this stuff. It’s not the same.”

A silence settles between them, one that neither seems to know how to navigate. But Will keeps his gaze steady on Mike, trying to breach some barrier, to fall back into their usual ways.

Something is different, though; it’s not uncomfortable, it never could be, but it’s something intimidating. Will seems more comfortable, at least; he’s not shying away from anything Mike throws at him.

And he tries to break the silence first. “Y’know - “

“Will,” Mike cuts him off, and he’s not sure what he’s saying, or where he’s going with it, but he knows he’s supposed to say this. His name. “I need you to know that I missed you.”

Will blinks at him, cocks his head. “I missed you too,” he says matter-of-factly.

The words are eating at him, right there on the edge of his mind, and Will looks almost concerned and now Mike just wants to drop it because that’s not what he wanted. But he can’t, not now. “I missed you the most.” It sounds so juvenile. “More than everyone else. I missed you before you even left. I just didn’t know how to say it.” He breathes in and out, focusing on Will’s cheeks, the tip of his nose, anything but his eyes. When Will doesn’t say anything, the rest just spills. “I missed you when our first first day of school apart came and passed, and I didn’t even call. I missed you at homecoming. And,” he licks his lips, not really sure where his speech is heading, “I know you had to go, it’s fine. We’ll figure it out. But I feel like we haven’t been on the same page in a long time. So, I missed you, and I love you, and that’s that.”

Will looks at him funny, and then his face softens into something like laughter, and Mike is genuinely about to run and throw up somewhere, but then the boy closes his eyes and says, “I love you too.”

Mike blanches. “I don’t think I said that.”

“Oh, you definitely did.”

“Oh,” he nods, mind spinning, “well, you know…”

Will stands to be at Mike’s level, leans forward on his knees. Mike stops breathing. “I do,” he says, “but tell me again.”

Mike swallows down a breath of courage and suggests, “I think I might like you.” His eyes flit to Will’s lips, then back to his eyes. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll allow it,” Will says, a bright smile causing lines near his eyes. Mike smacks at his arm, nervous laughter coming out with a quiet, ‘Shut up.’ Will moves so he’s resting his fingertips on the table. Inches away.

“Same page, then?” Mike asks.

“Same page, yeah, for sure.”

Mike nods absently, distracting himself with the strings on Will’s sweatshirt. “So I don’t sound crazy?”

Will laughs. “I dunno. I always counted on us going crazy together. Figured we might have a few extra years, but hey, I’m all in.”

And then Mike is flashed back to a night on his couch just over a year ago. Knees knocking together, shared smiles. A promise.

So much has changed.

He wants to know what Will meant. A future of being in each other’s lives, maybe, getting old and senile and batshit crazy. Always being there.

He never dared to think about it before.

“So what now?”

Will shrugs. He dips his head to meet Mike’s eyes with his own. “What do you want, Mike?”

And finally, he thinks he might know.

Or maybe he’s always known.

He scoots forward, takes Will’s face in his hands, and kisses him. It’s just a quick press of their lips, but in that moment, he knows a few things for sure. His heartbeat is going a mile a minute, and Will must be able to feel it; it’s absolutely exhilarating, surreal, insane that he’s kissing his best friend; and, he is definitely in like, or maybe love, with Will Byers.

He’ll probably love him forever.

When Mike pulls back and his eyes flutter open to see Will, flushed, blinking back at him, slightly dazed, he doesn’t want to pull away at all. He did that. Mike’s hand remains on his jaw, lax, and he runs his thumb along Will’s bottom lip, curious to see his reaction, curious about a lot, now.

Will lets out a breathy chuckle. “Wow,” he mumbles, “that’s new.”

“Yeah.” Mike exhales shakily, takes one of Will’s hands, and says, “Merry Christmas, Will.”

“Yeah, Merry Christmas.”

The world doesn’t seem to fall apart like Mike thought it might if he ever got to this point, so, that’s nice.

“So…” Mike begins carefully, “you’re gonna have to be slow with me here. This is sort of a lot for me.”

“Me too,” Will replies simply. He squeezes Mike’s hand. “But we’ll figure it out.”

“Totally.”

Will takes his cheeks in his hands and smiles into a very gentle kiss, his fingers curling into the hair at the nape of Mike’s neck. It’s soft and sweet and lingering - but not for too long, as moments later the door upstairs busts open and shouts of, “BYERS!” from their dear friends sound through the air, and Mike and Will jump apart, equally startled and laughing.

“Down here!” Will calls out. He looks at Mike, smiles, offers, “To be continued?” and as he walks past, he leans in, just to leave a quick peck on Mike’s cheek.

And all Mike can do is laugh and shake his head and run after him to meet their friends; Lucas and Dustin are horribly late to the surprise, but they collide into Will the second they see him, shouting over each other, ‘What’s going on, dude?’ ‘Merry Christmas!’ ‘You’ve missed so much,’ and everyone is grinning and chattering, and it’s awesome.

Max approaches him, watching all of the madness, smacks a hand to his shoulder, and says, “You did good, Wheeler.”

“Yeah, I did.” She punches his arm lightly, laughing, so he adds, “thank you for everything. Seriously.”

“I think we should work together more often.”

Mike scoffs into a laugh, and says, “Yeah, guess so.”

Max rolls her eyes, but at least now they’re actually laughing in each other's company. It’s great progress from just a few weeks ago.

After a minute of watching the boy’s shenanigans, Max smiles. “Well, Merry Christmas, anyway.”

“Merry Christmas,” he responds, and he watches as she jumps up onto a kitchen stool, chatting and giggling with El.

With everyone back together again, finally, Mike feels really alive; so, he jumps in with all the excited shouting and group hugs and bickering, and celebrates the merriest Christmas he can remember in a long time.

[cryinginthebackseat]

initials t.c.

Fandom: Open Heart

Pairing: Tobias Carrick x MC

Words: 7.299 (I’M SO SORRY)

Summary: Tobias Carrick makes Claire an offer she can’t refuse.

Warnings: 50% plot, 50% smut, swear-a-thon, blasphemy

Author’s Note: when the book first introduced us to tobias carrick, the first thing that hit my mind was “okay, but that dude is like the carbon copy of jesse williams and that’s hot” but then, once it reveals who he is and what’s his role in the book i went “interestinggggggg” cause you know, i’m a sucker for morally grey characters and all, and i’m not even ashamed to admit it. also, carrick is shaping up to be such an interesting character with each chapter and maybe one day- okay, maybe this sounds like a pipe dream- but one day, i hope he can be a li (let a girl dream plz) lmao

also if anyone’s interested, i made a PLAYLIST to accompany reading the fic.

the title is inspired by serge gainsbourg’s initials bb

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Cast down off heaven Cast down on my knees I’ve lain with the devil Cursed god above Forsaken heaven

To Bring You My Love - PJ Harvey

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Whenever Claire thinks about Tobias Carrick, admittedly, unfortunately, tragically, she always thinks about his eyes first before remembering what a colossal pain in the ass he is.

It always comes in that order. Like the number 3 always comes before 4, like the seawater dragging back from the shoreline before a tsunami occurs, like pouring milk before the cereal (she honestly didn’t get what the fuss is about until one day Elijah cried ‘oh, hell no you don’t, satan!‘ one morning and proceeded to give her bullet points why pouring the milk before the cereal is considered a sin and more of an abomination than Nephilims’ existence and that there’s a higher probability that she’s a psycho for being a ‘milk first’ kind of person). So apparently, Claire’s a psycho now which explains so many aspects- but she digresses and the point is, the reaction is uncontrollable and she high-key hates how she can’t control her goddamn mind most of the time.

The point is, she needs to stop thinking about him to begin with. 

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Claire Castelnuovo was born in the summer, under the sign of Gemini. Marilyn Monroe once said that stands for intellect, being a Gemini, but she was too blissfully unaware of this guerdon that she devoted her adolescent years to being outdoors instead. Too many days she spent trampling along the cornfields with her cousins until the skies faded out with brilliant purple-tinged amber and she was carrying a piece of the sun in her skin and smelled like one, stuffing wildflowers inside her boots as she walked around the neighborhood with her dad’s old stethoscope, napping in a hammock with Oasis’ All Around the World on repeat. By the time she hit 15, her black strands had turned brown from repeated sun exposure. She loved it.

But it was a different time, a different place. Somewhere that only exists on the margins of her memories, lost and hidden.

Now, Claire prefers the night.

It’s 9:30 pm when she arrives at a hotel bar in downtown Boston. A newly christened establishment which has somehow become a regular spot for Hemingway’s enthusiasts once the Boston Globe wrote an article about their Hemingway Daiquiri and how, as they wrote it, ‘probably the only place that’s brave and crazy enough to adhere to the 1930s original recipe’ and bourgeois party birds at wee hours during the weekend.

Her eyes are gritty, dry and strange. Her mind’s much worse for the wear- she feels like shit, like in the middle of watching that scene from The Green Mile shit when all is hopeless and you feel like walking out of the theater, but you’ve spent your last savings just to buy the ticket, so you decide to stick through it.

Claire makes a beeline for the bar, tries to flag down the bartender. She orders an Old Fashioned, making sure to specify to double it because she’s not a regular here and he’s not Reggie and that’s how she’s been taking her drink for years.

She knows well deep in her bones that she should be somewhere else. Somewhere more familiar, somewhere where Tim Mcgraw often plays from the subpar speakers, and the rustic wooden bar countertop is gouging and discoloring from the cheap household cleaners and alcohol stains, and her friends are cramming together in the same booth in the back, reveling and laughing until they close the bar down and make a mess all over. Perhaps it’s a mistake coming here, where no one’s a familiar face and the drinks are a tad overpriced for her budget.

But then, perhaps this is exactly what she needs; the unfamiliarity, the visceral feeling knowing that she doesn’t belong here, where no one knows her name and the huge deal of weight she’s currently carrying on her shoulders. Perhaps, she can’t face her friends after what happened, after what Esme has done. Shit, how could any of this happen? Claire knows this all on Esme’s, but her guilt has grown hopelessly tangled with her anxiety. She’s her intern, for fuck’s sake, Claire’s supposed to prevent this from happening in the first place.

Man, where’s Declan Nash when she feels like punching someone in the face?

Claire makes the mistake of drinking her drink too quickly, because it hasn’t been ten minutes and she’s drained half of the content. Then she reaches for her phone in her bag, fiddles with it, absent-minded, equal parts bored before then settles on watching the band performing Art Pepper’s You Go To My Head and immediately thinks of that time she accidentally dropped her brother’s saxophone in a moment of her rather graceless, wine-soaked self with the whole family present.

Someone plops down on the empty stool next to her. Claire’s now scrolling through her phone- again, bored. Sienna commented on the post Elijah shared to the group chat with a few unnecessary-yet-totally-necessary emojis to the already convoluted series of texts and Claire only reads them in silence, not only because her friends’ texting behaviors are too chaotic for her to follow sometimes but she’s not really feeling like talking to anyone right now.

“Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in.”

Famous last words.

Claire freezes in her seat. Her phone’s still glowing in her hand, alighting her features. She recognizes that voice- too well, that is and it’s enough to set off her flight-or-fight response.

She glances up from her phone, preparing for the worst.

Well, what’s presented before her is literally the worst.

“Of all the gin joints…” she says once her eyes find Tobias Carrick sitting next to her, still in his work shirt, sleeves rolled-up, a few buttons undone, reeking of smoke, soap and antiseptic with a shit-eating grin plastered over his face.

She should have gone to Donahue’s instead.

“Evening to you too, Castelnuovo. Drinking your dinner tonight, I see?”

“What, this? No, this is breakfast. 100% daily value of alcohol and pretty much nothing else. I mean, it’s not the weekend without a bad case of hangover and an aspirin snowglobe in the morning, am I right? You know, like a glass of aspirin? Not a literal snowglobe?” she blabbers, realizing just so by the time she hears him snort. Claire chokes down another sip to shut her mouth up. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I’m about to commit first-degree murder and burn this whole place to the ground,” he drawls, the ever goddamn sarcastic. “What do you think? I’m trying to get dru-”

“No, I mean what are you doing here, of all places? Can’t you get drunk somewhere else?” she interrupts, her midwest accent does funny things to the vowels and consonants- something that only happens whenever she’s in distress, or at least according to Jackie.

“Last time I heard, this joint’s still owned by the Hilton, not a certain junior member of the Diagnostics Team at Edenbrook hospital.”

“Dude, what do you think of the H in Claire H. Castelnuovo stands for?” Deadpan, trying to keep up with the rolling sarcasm, she retorts. He smirks.

“Horatio?”

“Get the fuck out of here,” she mutters, mid-eye-roll, mid-snickering.

He chuckles, his voice rich and smoky amidst the late-night swing and distant chatters. Carrick doesn’t leave, of course, typically him- if those anecdotes Ethan told her has taught her anything about his character, that is- defying everything, scheming his way to the top, the embodiment of ‘those devilish boys with their heavenly eyes’ type your mother warns you about.

Not that the latter is relevant.

“Or what?” His mouth twitches but there’s a hard, challenging light in his eyes that she knows too well by now.

“Or I’m leaving.“ She shoots him a glare. He’s testing her patience- again, like it’s his finesse. Some things never change, it seems.

“Come on, Castelnuovo, don’t be a sourpuss. The night is young and I can promise you, the last thing I am is a horrible drinking buddy.”

With a touch of irony, she replies: “I’m sure. I bet you asked your friends to fill out a questionnaire every time you went out with them, did you?”

Carrick hums.

“You’re funny.” But he says it in the same tone that someone might say Jesus fuck, you’re probably one of the most frustrating creatures I’ve ever laid eyes on. Also, because the next thing he says is: “A little rough around the edges, but funny nonetheless.”

“That makes one of us then.”

Carrick frowns, which is kind of a surprise because she’s half expected him to flash her that signature cheeky grin of his.

“Listen, I’m just trying to make a friendly conversation here. I know we haven’t really seen eye-to-eye with each othe-”

Claire snorts and crosses her arms over her chest. “That, doctor, is an understatement of the fucking century.”

“Okay so, we’re like Tom and Jerry but sans the background music and a naive little duckling running around calling one of us his momma, but I feel like now’s the time to call out a temporary truce between us.” A beat, then: “I heard about what happened with the intern.”

Something flashes across her face- and Carrick must have noticed it, because his face does this odd thing- it softens, even for a moment. She hates it. He’s not supposed to be looking at her like that, not supposed to see her at her weakest state or saved her ass- And Jesus, why does she have to be indebted to Tobias Carrick, of all people- But god forbid, the last thing she’ll ever do is crying in front of him.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she mutters, barely audible, trying to temper her fluctuated emotions.

“Then don’t. We can talk about anything else or fall into some sort of endless, meaningless platitudes. Whichever will work.” As if sensing Claire’s lingering hesitation, he adds. “Tell you what, to sweeten the offer, your next drinks are on me.”

She assesses him for a long minute, eyes narrowing. She’s shaking her head, but her mouth, as if against her will, instead says: “Careful, Carrick, there’s a chance I’ll be abusing that offer and run you dry.”

"Hey, if you want to butcher your liver so bad, don’t stop on my account,” he says. “Don’t worry, though, I’ll make sure to save your ass again this time around. Pro bono.”

Claire looks as if she’s just swallowed a dead rat. “Thanks, but no thanks. Death seems more like an appealing choice.”

“Well, I stopped death from interfering then, I’ll stop it again.” Carrick winks, she pretends to gag again yet remains still in her seat, so Carrick waves at the bartender for their order- she orders for a refill and he, a martini and Claire is this close from asking 'shaken or stirred?’ but then remembers who he is and immediately washes the question down with her drink.

“You know, if anyone told me weeks ago that I’d be having a drink with you tonight, I probably would have socked them.“

Carrick is in the middle of lighting his cigarette, but laughs instead. “The Times They Are a-Changin’, as Bob Dylan said.” A puff of smoke escapes his mouth, curling around his fingers. Claire instinctively looks away. “Which reminds me of that one time your mentor sang Ballad of A Thin Man on the fucking subway when we were 20.”

She swivels her head to his direction, on the verge of choking on her drink. “Hold on, hold on, Ethan Jonah Ramsey sings?”

“Give him a dare he couldn’t refuse and a few shots of whiskey, and I promise you he’ll sing like Sinatra on crack.” He grins, his eyes are all crinkled and bright; she thinks that means he’s genuinely amused. “Ah, good times. We were like- wait, who was it he’d like to say we’re like again?”

A small smile pulls at her lips. “Bert and Ernie.”

“Jesus, he really fucking compares us to some Sesame Street characters, huh?” She laughs at that, loud and bright. He does the same. “Personally, I’d always say we were like Butch and Sundance back then- rebels with a cause, a band of misfits, trying to leave our marks on the world. You know those types. We were young, we wanted so much- I still do. I mean, let’s be real, whoever’s wanted to be defeated at their own game?”

A crease forms between her eyebrows, not quite a frown.

“Nobody,” Claire concurs, hating herself for it. “But was it worth it? Betraying the closest thing you had to a brother or a lover…” Carrick coughs on his smoke from the latter. “or whatever in the process just to get what you wanted?” Claire was obviously aiming for that brash, hard-hitting jab, but it lands gloriously too soft.

The bartender finally places their ordered drinks down on the bar. Carrick reaches for it, taking a careful swig, then sets his glass down. He takes a deep breath.

"It’s nothing personal. It never was. I never considered him as my rival.”

“Yeah, but by doing whatever you did, you’ve made an enemy out of him,” she counters. “Look, Carrick, I know we live in a dog-eat-dog world and I know being good sometimes doesn’t get the job done. Perhaps Machiavelli was right. Perhaps, when necessary, you have to be ruthless, dissembling and manoeuvring- what did he say again? ‘The end justifies the means’? But if any worthwhile end can justify the means to attain it, if everyone outright surrenders to their darker side, then what’s left of our humanity?”

For an interminable moment, there is only silence. He simply stares at her, as if she’s a walking, talking Rubik’s cube he can’t solve or a book that he has opened and now he’s got to know so much more and she feels pinned under those warm irises, uneasy.

Suddenly, his mouth begins to take shape; the corners hike up, stretch and then he does the unexpected.

The bastard fucking laughs.

“Excuse me?!” she spits, white-hot anger lacing each word. Carrick laughs harder- the audacity- despite Claire’s growing razor’s edge stare. “Did you just laugh at me? I was being fucking seriou-”

“Sorry, sorry.” Wiping an imaginary tear from his left eye. “I was just remembering Harper’s words. She’s right, you really are on the side of the angels, aren’t you?”

She points at him with her glass, snarling. “And you, mister, are the devil himself with a medical degree and an egg head- and I don’t mean the slang for a highly academic person.”

“Ouch,” Carrick says out loud, still kind of laughing, borderline frowning. “Okay, I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“Damn straight. Though you have a lot to apologize for.”

He groans. “Don’t tell me you’re still pissed about that one patient I stole under your nose?”

“The North remembers, ser,” she says, mean-spirited.

“Then does the North remembers that I saved her life?”

“Oh, so you’re discrediting the efforts of the other doctors that helped you make the cure?”

“Alright, alright. You win.” Carrick holds up his hands, the universal gesture of defeat and takes one final drag of his cigarette. He stubs it out, all the while keeping his gaze on her.

“So, how exactly can I make it up to you?“

Claire blinks- once, twice, thrice, realizing his intent. His voice drops an octave and he’s leaning in, close enough for her to notice the constellations of freckles splaying across his face and the way his brown eyes glinted like two shots of whiskey under a stream of light, intense and all-consuming. She feels her mind races, her brains feel as if they underwent a short-circuit and get caught on fire, and the fact that her mind’s on the precipice of exploring the idea is not helping.

A burst of laughter erupts from her throat, not that it’s funny- there’s nothing funny about the situation, but someone ought to diffuse this shift of tension between them, or that was her aim, at least.

“What, you wanna pay me back?” she asks, trying to keep her voice from cracking but failing miserably. Fingers trembling against her glass as she chugs nearly a quarter of her drink in one go.

He notices that.

"A Lannister always pays his debts, does he? If you think that I owe you one, then I’ll gladly pay.” His eyes flick back to her face, searing into her. The air crackles between them. The band is playing a different song now, a sound that only exists on the margin of her attention. If they’re in, say a mid 2000s rom-com movie, someone would probably interrupt this moment and save her from this. But this isn’t a movie.

Claire licks her lips, a candid reaction which encourages him to inch closer- or is it her? She can’t tell anymore. Tracing odd patterns on the palm of her hand with his finger and oh god, this is Carrick, the bane of her fucking existence, she’d shoot him first before she kisses him. But something about the prospect of fucking this bastard twists her insides deliciously into a confused mess.

“How? By fucking me?” she inquires, feigning scandalized- all that Catholic guilt bullshit.

He grins, all-teeth and wolfish and shrugs as if they’re talking about his life insurance policy or shit. “Well, that’s the idea.”

“But you don’t even like me.” It should come out as I don’t even like you, but even she knows that’ll be just another lie she tells.

“On the contrary, I enjoy our rivalry far more than I should, Castelnuovo,” he purrs and places a hand on her knee. Her throat bobs. She’s wearing a skirt, it didn’t seem important then, but now his hand feels warm against her skin, dangling on the edge of impropriety. Like gravity, all it takes is a little push for him to cross that line.

“I should be disliking the way you talk to me, challenging me and putting me on the back foot every goddamn time. I should be focusing on taking you down a peg, but the more I see you, the more I realize you have an attractive kind of power. And I’m just one man. And if there’s anything I learned, the only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it.”

But then his movement suddenly ceases. Claire almost asks why.

"However…”

“What?” she stares up at him, eyes wide, breath hitching.

“However if you only accept alcohol as the currency for transactions, then I’ll tell the bartender to get us another round instead,“ he tells her, offering her one last chance to back out from this, from making this mistake with him.

Claire stares into her drink, actually mulling this over. Her mind tells her no, but the other part- the alcohol-infused part of her mind- whispers otherwise. She imagines if Ethan or any of her friends are here, they would probably grab her shoulder and shake the living hell out of her for even reconsidering his offer.

But then again, intelligence, alcohol and desperation have always had a bad history of getting along together.

“What about June?” Claire asks against her better judgement, after a long, considerable pause. Carrick raises a confused brow.

“What about her?”

“I thought you guys…” she trails off, makes a face, feeling all-kind of flustered and aroused and wow, she’s really doing this, huh? “I mean, I don’t know- I don’t wanna get in between you guys.”

“Nah. It was only a three time thing, but there’s never been anything between us.” He chuckles at Claire’s askance look. “If you don’t believe me, you can fact-check it with the woman herself,” Carrick adds, looking at her dead-on with his eyes like he wants to get the message across.

She regards him silently for a long second, and maybe she’s a touch drunk now, maybe the bartender put something in her drink, or maybe she just needs to blow off some steam after what’s been happening in these past few weeks and Carrick happens to be a decent warm body for the occasion, but Claire finds herself shifting closer.

"Then I want you to pay me back.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah,” she answers, more sure this time, more determined.

Her nose bumps his, his breath fanning across her face all the while Carrick’s slightly pushing her skirt up, letting his fingertips travel higher. His eyes keep darting back and forth from her eyes and lips, checking for her reaction. There is no inhibition here, not anymore. People might be watching- heck, they could be already watching and it terrifies her that she doesn’t give a damn about it.

“But if you tell anyone about this, I swear to god… ” she warns and a shadow of mirth passes across his eyes, making her almost regretting this. Almost.

“Claire, darling.” It’s the first time he’s ever said her name and her stomach does a tango. “Your secret is safe with me.“ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

He gets them a room in the hotel, it’s on the twentieth floor. Carrick handles the accommodation- he can afford it, apparently, which is not really surprising and the nuisating check-in procedure while Claire only waits in the lobby like a beautiful, agitated china doll amidst the turbulent sea the whole time until he comes back, flashes the room key at her and beckons her to follow.

She goes ahead of him, but he catches up. His body heat sends her anxiety rocketing sky-high through the roof as they walk next to each other, hands briefly brushing against one another but she ignores that (or at least she tries).

They are silent in the elevator, they are silent even once they reach the designated floor and walk down the hall to their room where the dim and shadowed lights follow their steps like vultures.

Carrick holds open the door for her and she enters, taking in the windows and the striking view of Boston skyline peeking behind the curtains, the TV and the queen-sized bed. The latter does nothing to assuage the anticipation that’s bubbling in the pit of her stomach, by the way.

Claire hears him shut the door, locking both bolts. She peers at him over her shoulder, half-turned, one eye on him. Their eyes meet, neither speaks. He’s taking off his black peacoat, back against the door, he’s looking at her as if wanting her is his full-time occupation and the realizations comes in like a mule kick, how that tiny voice inside her head, the one that tells her that this is a bad idea and she’s better off leaving never comes.

The room is not considerably huge (with $110 per night, you would have expected you’d get a bigger room), he could easily have her in six large steps, yet he stands there. Sizing her up, smirking rather devilishly, handsomely as if challenging her to make the first move. It’s another fucking game with him. A display of power, waiting who would fall first.

Claire finally turns around to face him. With a renowned determination, she removes her coat, letting it fall unceremoniously onto the carpeted floor. Her blouse follows next and her skirt, which she tugs it oh so slowly down her legs.

Carrick’s eyes widen, if she doesn’t know better, she thinks he’s speechless. He takes a deep breath, his gaze religiously following every movement as she twirls around once more to unhook her bra. His jaw clenches and unclenches. He’s having a hard time keeping himself in check which she takes an immense pleasure in. Claire just wants to see the man squirm for a change, even if she has to shed every article of clothing she wears.

By the time she slips off of her underwear, she is breathing raggedly. He hasn’t yet approached her so she crawls onto the bed, lying on her back with one elbow props her up, legs crossed. She kicks off her heels, rolls down her stockings with a bit of that noir come-hither, Lauren Bacall-esque heavy bedroom eyes.

Finally, Carrick steps closer until he’s only a hair’s breadth away, like a target, filling her line of sight. The tension in the room is hot enough to send the thermometer reaching its maximum limit and she’s burning, burning, burning right through the core.

Claire cranes her head up to meet his gaze, noticing the way he’s drinking in her body like a pirate ogling a bottle of rum. High-strung, tense, Carrick lowers his head to her, his fingers carding through her long hair. Dimness consumes him raw, his silhouette is starting to find its place amongst the shadows except for his eyes. Never does the fire in his eyes falter, merely alight.

They are already nose-to-nose when Claire suddenly raises her hand over his lips. He withdraws from her, looking confused and hot and bothered.

“Take a seat over there, will you?” She motions to the settee near the bed, her tone leaving no room for argument.

He smirks, but she can see his bravado if faltering. “Ordering me around in the bed now, are we?”

“Didn’t you say tonight is about you making it up to me?”

“Touche, touche.” Carrick straightens his posture and makes his way to the settee across from her, shifting uncomfortably in his seat given the growing issue in his pants.

With eyes still trained to his, Claire cups her own breast, fingers pinching her pebbled nipple before the same hand travels lower down her stomach, her thighs. Carrick leans forward in his seat, obviously liking where this is going before Claire slowly and teasingly part her legs for him to see.

A surprised groan escapes him.

“Jesus, Claire,” Carrick hisses. “Fuck, I didn’t know you’re a goddamn tease.”

She doesn’t bother replying to him, but a winning grin finds its way across her face as she lays on her back, her shame and modesty are distant, knees pulled up so he can have a clear view of her. With two fingers, she runs them along her folds, dragging them slowly up to her clit. Claire imagines they are his fingers- which once upon a time would have horrified her, but tonight, as she repeats the motion over and over, knowing that he’s sitting there, watching her without being able to get his hands on her, she decides to submit to this newfound fantasy.

A rustle pulls her back to reality. He’s undoing his own pants, palming his cock, runs his fingers over the leaking head.

A low moan catches in her throat at that, her gaze snapping up from his erection to his face where his irises have darkened and pupils dilated. He wants to show her, that’s he’s as depraved as her when it comes to wanting, that he fucking wants her and in spades and she fails to think like a normal human being anymore.

Claire uses that image to work on herself harder, faster, feeling the intense pressure beginning to build beneath her fingers. She’s so wet now, despite him being able to see that, she wants him to hear it as well as she uses her idle hand to tap against herself. Carrick growls, his pace matching the rhythm she’s setting.

She slips her fingers inside her, drops her head back against the mattress and bites a loud moan that threatens to escape her lips. Flushing scarlet all over her abdomen, her breasts and up to her neck. Her blood thumping louder than bombs in her ears, her breaths begin to come in gasps.

Another fast and hard thrust from fingers, and Claire finds herself sighing his name.

“Tobias…”

And every last bit of his self-restraint snaps.

In just a blink of an eye, Carrick is already on his feet, grabs her waist, harshly, and tugs her down onto the edge of the bed where he’s now kneeling before her. He doesn’t bother with the teasings or soft kisses or caresses, and even before Claire has the time to register what’s happening, he crushes his face between her parted legs and eats her out.

She gasps, high and fleeting, twisting the bed sheet between her fists while his tongue flicks over her, moving back up, back down, lapping along her folds in the same motions she showed him with her hand, how she likes it. Claire forgets how to breathe. It just occurs to her just how arousing the sight of him on his knees like this, sending her mind hitchhiking into outer space.

“Oh, fuck.” She breathes, back arching on the bed with a drawn-out moan. “Fuck, Tobias!” Her hips gyrate over his mouth and she presses her heels against his shoulder blades. She’s so close. All she needs is a little push to send her careening into oblivion and it seems that Carrick can sense it because he brings two digits to her entrance and slides easily inside her, setting a ruthless pace.

With her hands reaching out to the back of his head, Claire cries out his name and trembles violently. Encouraged, Carrick curves his fingers inside her, hitting that exact spot that finally undoes her as she comes, long and hard, around his mouth and fingers- the kind of orgasm that you can feel deep in your bones- and watches as fireworks dance behind her lids.

When she finally comes down from her high, everything is hazy. It’s like waking up from a deep slumber after a decadent soak in a scented bath and she loses all orientation, until she feels him nipping the inside of her thighs. She hisses, glances down, heavy-lidded eyes finding Carrick is leaving bruises after bruises all over her skin like some kind of a lewd memento of his work, like he wants her to remember this the next time she wakes up in her own bed and he’s not there.

"Are you trying to turn me into a Na'vi, doctor?” She asks, still kinda breathless, feeling surprisingly conversational despite having just experienced, if not, one of the best orgasms in her life. He smiles against her thigh and withdraws from her, only after her thighs are sufficiently bruised enough, licks his fingers clean and stands up at the end of the bed.

“Maybe. You’d make a cute blue extraterrestrial creature, though,” he replies cheekily, then undoes the button of his shirt, showcasing his naked torso.

Claire feels her cheeks heating up again, but forces herself to stare; eyes following his pectoral muscles, down to the toned lines of his abdomen while he slides off of his pants. The man is one fine specimen, alright, and he knows- smug bastard- and she thinks it’s such a shame that Carrick is… well, Carrick. If the man learns how to shut up for one minute or avoid trying to sabotage everyone’s career at Edenbrook altogether, maybe, just maybe, she’d consider him.

“But honestly, I just wanted to hear you say my name again,” Carrick continues, crawling his way up to her, pulling her out of her musings. He settles between her thighs. His lips finding her ear and nibbling at the lobe while his fingers pinching and pulling at her nipple. Claire shivers. Nails scraping along his skin, raising angry marks that would certainly be there tomorrow.

When they kiss, it’s so good that she can’t help but curl her toes. He kisses her like he’s trying to steal her breath or her name. She can taste herself in his mouth, which sparks so many feelings inside her. Her mind’s foggy, sweat pooling on her forehead. Carrick is but shoves his tongue into her mouth, lapping at her, biting, sucking and she leans hard into the kiss, retaliates by scraping her teeth against his bottom lip. It spurs him on. Making his cock twitch against her thigh and Claire decides she can’t wait anymore.

Claire rolls her hips at him. He takes the hint and rolls over to grab a condom from his pants. Then he’s back on top of her, his weight and heat crushing her most deliciously and brings her body further up the bed with him; she drapes her legs around his hips, hands gripping his arms. Her lust and anticipation collaborate to the point of near madness.

Carrick nips the taut line of her jaw and drives himself into her.

They both groan in unison.

“Oh, fuck.” Carrick mumbles between shaky breaths, his face pressed against her throat. “Fucking hell, Claire, you feel so warm.”

Claire, on the other hand, goes rigid under him. Her mouth hangs open and her world narrows down to the feeling of his cock inside her and the pleasure that builds up again in her abdomen.

This is happening, she thinks, he’s inside her and it feels so amazing. She might as well be crazy for agreeing to do this with him in the first place, but the promise of the thrill beats the doubts.

He starts slow, just the smallest fraction of hips, gently thrusting back and forth in shallow motions. She whines, frustrated and impatient, raising her own hips to meet his, but Carrick’s weight pins her onto the mattress and she can’t fucking move.

“F-faster,” Claire stammers, her molars grinding like toothache.

The bastard smirks, like he’s been anticipating the word coming out of her mouth.

“Beg for it.” His words are punctuated with every unhurried stroke he’s giving her, teasing her and if she’s not in the middle of being fucked right now, she would have kicked him in the balls.

Growling, she swallows her plea by pulling Carrick down for another kiss. This time, she’s the one who does the biting and the sucking, making sure he’s distracted enough and then just like with all the things she does in her life, she takes the matter into her own hands.

With all her strength, she scrambles up, pushes him off of her and knocks him onto his back flat on the bed. When she swings her legs to straddle him, his eyes pop.

“Holy shit, you are feisty.”

“Only cause I’m angry and horny,” she bites off. Angling herself above him and with one hand, guides his shaft back to her opening. “And you- you weren’t doing a proper job fucking me.”

He smirks. “I was trying to wind you up.”

“Fuck you.”

She lowers herself and sinks back onto his cock, relishing in his moans and growls.

“Baby, you’re doing it.” His hands curling around her waist, his head falls back onto the bed, exposing his throat and Claire is so hard-pressed not to bite him there.

Claire ignores his smartassness, naturally, and lifts herself, drops back down. Slamming her hips into his until she’s bouncing on him. Nails clawing at his chest. Finally be able to set a pace she desperately craves for, finally wiping that smirk off of his face.

Under her, Carrick is biting his lip in an effort to not to lose control. His hands are everywhere now; her stomach, her breasts, her neck, her cheeks. Leaving fire on its wake. She might still hate him after this is strange, little arrangement is over but at this juncture, he’s exactly the remedy she needs after everything.

Then Carrick wraps his arms around her and picks up the pace, thrusting into her hard and fast. Claire shakes. She can’t catch her breath, her forehead pressed on his shoulder, her teeth latching onto his skin. Breathing a string of 'fuckfuckfuck’ while he squeezes her ass and continues to fuck her with careless abandon.

"Tobias.” Her moans amplify. She’s close to climaxing again, her legs quivering. Eyes wide shut. “Please, please.” So much for not begging.

He pulls her to him so their foreheads meet. Their lips brush against each other, but they aren’t kissing, merely trading breaths. A hand touches her cheek and her lids flutter open, finding his eyes- those depthless, amber eyes that pretty much lead her to this point, are watching her, pulling her in.

“Say it again,” he encourages darkly, face twists in pleasure. “My name. Say it again.”

She does it again, it comes out as a groaned whisper, repeating it over and over again like a sacred mantra.

Her second orgasm sweeps through her, making her spine arches, it tears a winded moan from her throat and it’s more than enough to trigger Carrick’s own release; fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips, groaning gutturally.

Panting, sore but sated, Claire collapses on top of his chest, his arm still drapes around her. The rise and fall of his breath lull her to sleep. Before she knows it, he gently rolls her to his side, pulling the covers for them and kisses her on the shoulder, which comes out as… odd for her.

The bed moves and she feels him leaving.

He’s leaving.

He’s leaving.

She doesn’t know why it stings, but it does. But also Claire opts not to pay no mind to it and forces her mind to surrender to sleep that once again tries to take hold.

Claire wishes she doesn’t dream of him that night, but she does.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It’s way past midnight when she wakes up. The room is dark. The curtains are closed. She’s still naked and sore under the covers, mind reeling in from what has just transpired.

One might ask in which universe does Claire Castelnuovo agree to sleep with Tobias Carrick? Well, apparently they did it in this one and oddly still, she doesn’t regret it. Though she’s still low-key sad that he left her straight after sex, but hey, what can she do about it? This arrangement itself is nothing but a means to an end, anyway, a perverse alternative for him to pay back what he allegedly owes her, she shouldn’t be surprised if he left after the ‘debt’ is paid.

Feeling her mood somehow takes an unexpected dip, she gets us from the bed and gathers her clothes on the floor.

She’s in the middle of zipping up her skirt when the bedside lamp flickers and comes on.

Claire turns around. Carrick, rousing from sleep, looks at her, rubbing his eyes and stifles a yawn. His lips still tinged from her kisses and bites.

“Leaving so soon?” he asks, voice still raspy from sleep and Claire thinks her mouth is hanging open, standing rooted to the spot like a spider on an icicle; frozen in time.

For a moment, she does nothing but stares at him, being rendered speechless. For many times, Tobias Carrick never fails to surprise her. Just when she thinks she has him all figured out, he comes sneaking in through her windows like a thief in the night and it just strikes her, how he really is an uncharted territory for her. Despite her having him pinned under her, exploring the hard planes of his body under the touches just a few hours ago.

The man is like a fucking myth, at this point. She knows him only from stories and her limited time around him, but who is exactly Tobias Carrick? Is he the competitive doctor at Mass Kenmore, the Machiavellian asshole that severed his friendship/relationship with Ethan for the sake of his greed and ambition? Or is he, Tobias Carrick, the man who saves her life, makes her laugh and kisses her shoulder in the afterglow?

She’ll probably never know.

“Yeah, my roommates will probably deploy a search party if I don’t come home tonight,” she replies, distracted, finally finding her own voice back. He nods, feigning disappointment- or is he not? She clears her throat and continues putting on her clothes. “I thought you left.”

He chuckles at the absurdity of her deduction. “And without saying goodbye?” Carrick rolls off of the bed and rises to his feet. He’s already wearing his pants- thank fuck for that- and approaches her. “I may be an asshole, Castelnuovo, but just so you know, my mother raised me better than that.”

So they’re back to their usual last name basis perimeter. That’s good, right? After all of this, she thinks a little familiarity would be nice for her sanity.

“Good to know, then.”

Silence encompasses the room. It’s awkward and overwhelming and it throws her a little off-balance. At the bar, they seemed to know exactly what to say to each other- especially him; but now, even she can sense the hesitation in his gait, at the way he’s looking at her and a faint alarm is trilling her head. Because if he’s making this awkward, she can do a whole lot of worse.

"Oh, before you ask, that makes up for pretty much everything, yeah. I mean, it’s alright.” You fucking dumbass, she thinks to herself, averting his gaze while a smile blooms on his face.

“Good to know, then.” He parrots her words and she huffs a laugh, freely and sweetly, like she’s currently not knee-deep in her problems or she’s just fucked the most incorrigible man that ever exists. He does too, but his gaze lands on her mouth before going back to her eyes.

Another silence passes. It’s time to go.

“I have to go now.”

He nods mutely and moves away so Claire can step past him.

She wears her coat. In the mirror, she still looks thoroughly fucked; her hair’s dishevelled, she smells like him now, but she really needs to go. She promises herself that this will be a one time thing because, Jesus fuck, she’s supposed to be smarter than this. She’s not fifteen anymore, and this is not the summer where she can watch the sunset from the cornfields with her cousins even though his eyes possess the same color.

Yet she walks toward the door in a daze, like she’s forgetting something but can’t pinpoint what it is.

“Can I-”

“Hey, do you-”

She stops, mid-turning, and closes her mouth. She doesn’t realize she’s interrupting him.

“Oh, sorry,” Claire says, embarrassed. “You go first, it’s alright.”

“Can I have your number?” he asks, uncharacteristically hesitant.

She thinks he’s joking or maybe he’s just feigning interest, but one look at his eyes and she can tell that this isn’t smoke and mirrors.

The eyes, chico. They never lie. It’s dumb, but that line from Scarface is the first thing that comes to her mind. That’s why when she hands him her phone, her hand is shaking slightly. She has to bite her lip to stop herself from grinning like a maniac.  

Claire takes a cursory glance at her phone once he returns it. He saved his number solely as t.c. with the water drop, the syringe, the ghost, the eggplant, the firework emoji and she chuckles endearingly, questioning the universe how he can easily get both a rise and a laugh out of her.

“I’ll text you?” Carrick asks again and she nods a little too enthusiastically at it, but what the hell?

“Sure.”

“Alright.” He takes one look at her, steps closer and for a moment, she thinks he might be going to kiss her.

“Goodnight, Claire,” Carrick says instead and she nods, admitting the fact that he’s not going to do it.

“Goodnight to you too, Tobias.” Then pauses at the doorway, feeling surprisingly bold. “I gotta give it to you, though, for someone who’s become the bane of my existence for months, you’re a damn good lay.”

He barks out a laugh, obviously, that Claire can hear all the way down the hall. And she thinks she can get used to the sound.

                                                         fin.

Tag list: @villain-fuckarooni @beckaroo @arfeiniel​ @this-person-is-busy @colossalpainintheass​ @drethanramslay @hatescapsicum @theeccentricbibliophile

[wantaichi]

karasuno as guy best friends

all platonic over here, folks. 

[reuploading due to tagging problems grr]

SUGAWARA KOUSHI made you swoon the first you met him and no one could blame you - ‘hii i don’t think we’ve met, i’m suga :)’ cue hand shake and soft hand squeeze and pretty eyes staring right into you melting your insides.. he’s just naturally sweet towards everyone and you learn this eventually. loves giving head pats and asking about your day and telling you to ‘take care text me when you get home!’ you‘re always telling him whoever he’d end up with would be the luckiest person on earth and you’d never forgive them if they hurt him. the type of guy best friend who spams your profile pic with comments - ‘wHO IS SHE’, ‘ohhh she glowin!’ - and acts all surprised as if you hadn’t just asked him to choose that photo for you. has a sixth sense for you that’s always so on-point he could tell when you’re faking a smile and would drag you out of the room discreetly saying ‘c’mon lets talk’

DAICHI SAWAMURA acts as the parent/legal guardian throughout your friendship, always reminding you to drink your water and to drop instant noodles from your diet. he has your birthday penciled into his planner and phone calendar, remembers your hyper-specific coffee order from starbucks, and knows all your pet peeves - from slow walkers to being told to ‘chill’ because it invalidates your feelings. the best friend you can trust to do your yearbook write up for you because he knows all your best qualities and remembers all your achievements by heart. doesn’t seem to be aware of his own popularity - his mental age surpasses that of people his age - and couldn’t be bothered with anything concerning romance so you’re always trying to pimp him out set him up with friends and friends of friends who are dying to date him

ASAHI AZUMANE’s always seen as the understated friend in the group just quietly soaking up everyone’s stories in the background but actually has a comedic streak only you and few others know about. it’s easy to miss because he’s too shy to say his jokes out loud so he mumbles them to himself, and they’re so insanely corny - delivered with a straight face - it had you tearing up from laughter the first time you caught him. you love that his brand of funny is free from any kind of attention seeking and feel lucky to be one of the few to witness this side of him. his sense of humor shines best when innocently poking fun at his close friends like doing accurate re-enactments of suga smizing at his reflection or daichi holding his screen 10 inches from his face, or when you’re expressively telling a story and he goes “do that face again” so you do it and he’s like “one more” and idiot you does it again before realizing bitch is trolling you ugh

NISHINOYA YUU is your wild card friend - you never know when he’d show up to things, but when he does, everyone knows. the friend you wished upon a shooting star the way Lilo did and ended up getting a gremlin smh. he’s the spark plug for spontaneous action in your life - would randomly text blast everyone on a weekend to hangout and watch that rooster fight in his neighborhood or go feral at the batting cage downtown, and you’re like wtf...game. deep conversations aren’t really his thing but you’re always so down for anything, to ride along with all the shit he enjoys and listen to his ramblings and it’s that rawness he loves about your friendship. the best friend that has a tendency to go missing in action all of a sudden and no one knows where he is but will randomly hit you up at 10pm to grab ramen with him or those ghetto ass meals ($0.80 rice burgers ftw) on the sidewalk that give you both diarrhea

TANAKA RYUUNOSUKE tried to shoot his shot with you the first you met; now cringes whenever reminded about it because you’re a sausage to him now, as sausage everyone else on the team. the best friend who’s down to hang out literally from morning ‘til dawn, have friends over for a week, go out for late night visits or spontaneous road trips - really anything that serves an excuse to be with the bros (including you). you’d joke about growing sick of each other’s company but deep down you know he’s the one person you could never tire of and run out of fun things to do with. the best friend you could simply be drinking grapefruit shochu with or eating cup noodles and it’d still be one of the most memorable moments with him. the most reliable especially when you’ve gone through a messy break up or when it’s red season - will come over with a whole bag of instant ramen, some takoyaki and some ibuprofen (regardless of the situation)

you and HINATA SHOUYO hit it off within the first hour of meeting each other. you’ve screeched talked about everything there’s to know about the other - volleyball, school life, mutual friends, music taste, siblings, irrational fears and childhood traumas - added each other on facebook, followed each other’s instagram, made plans to watch that game in another school; all within an hour. there’s just something about him that makes it easy for you to open up about anything. the friend that gets you all flustered at the start because he’s so touchy and always poking and hugging you every chance he gets (turns out he’s an accidental flirt). he’s your number one fan and cheerleader and has a way with words that always lifts your spirit, but also definitely the best friend who always gets you sent out of class because your thumb wrestling match or game of tic tac toe got over competitive

KAGEYAMA TOBIO isn’t sure who or what exactly counts as a best friend but he knows which people to trust and which ones trust him back and accept him as he is. yours is a friendship where seeing and talking to each other might happen every few weeks (or even months) but knowing you can count on the other for support and encouragement. there’s never any pressure to be more expressive and he feels comfortable to just be his normal self around you; you’ve probably bonded over mutual interest like volleyball or just sports in general, something that made a lasting impression and led to keeping in touch. you can’t be there in all his games but you make sure to stay updated and send him a ‘congrats!’ or ‘you did your best!’ after matches. you’re sometimes mistaken for his s/o (with how comfortable he is with you), and though neither of you give a shit and even ride along with it sometimes, deep down you’re both thinking: ‘HARD PASS’

YAMAGUCHI TADASHI - timid and innocent, that’s the first impression he gives off to a lot of people. he seems hard to get to know at first but all it takes is a little kindness and authenticity for this boy to warm up to you. deep down he’s hemorrhaging with happiness whenever someone introduces themselves and welcomes him as a friend - he’s never really sure if people like him and he doesn’t like imposing on others. even on a best friend level you’ll learn that there’s so much more layers to him - that he’s loudest when nerding out on things like underdog athletes and comics and art, that he has an eye for aesthetic and beauty and is easily attracted to pretty faces and stylish dressers (but is blind to red flags sighh). he keeps you updated with the trendiest stuff like that milk tea store that just opened or that new release on netflix — always up to date with everything ugh

to TSUKISHIMA KEI, people are either strangers or friends. you could be talking or working together on a daily basis but he’d still consider your friendship superficial; inversely, you could be hanging out only once/twice a week but your conversations would always be interesting or challenging enough for him to keep you around. you’re most likely the louder one or always the one initiating conversations and asking to hang out with him; he’ll call you annoying but secretly appreciates your genuine interest in reaching out to him. you’ll know he acknowledges you as a friend when gives you song recs based on your music taste or asks for your opinion on things - should he get new headphones or that limited edition t-rex figurine? he’ll engage you in debate while studying, in talks about social issues and maybe some existential stuff and you’ll learn that the unforeseeable future led by your generation keeps him up at night

a/n: because my guy best friends started messaging out of nowhere and i’m missing them more than usual.

[oddlyhale]

As much as I begin to see the horrors of RWBY fndm and how crazed BB fans can be, there'll probably be no comparison to the psychotics I had to deal with in the HH fndm.

While I can totally find myself being tolerant with all RWBY ships, there's something territorial when it comes to HH ships. It's a different beast on its own, especially with the popular artists that can and will control their fanbase.

Boy do I have a tale of 2020 that had me deal with the mental gymnastics these wild shippers put me through. The sheer hypocrisy, the fear fans had of standing up to them, the collective harassment.

In a synopsis, before we start:

Hi, my name is Hale.

Alfa and Alex are probably the most psychotic people I’ve ever met when it comes to my online daily life. I used to think my ex-friends were the bane of my existence, but Alfa and Alex started making me think just how angelic my exes were in comparison.

So let’s begin.

When I first met the Double AAs, it was Alex first (awhile back in late-June 2020 during Vaggie Week) but it was indirect. I was on my Instagram when I was tagged by a random user in something Alex had drawn. This was when I first saw the kill art of Vaggie. I was so upset that I had yelled at this random user for tagging me, as well as showing it via screencap on my twitter, as a warning to never do this to me to my followers. Keep in mind, I had censored Alex’s name from the screencap, not the random user.

However, Alex saw this somehow and became hysterical, thinking I was targeting him for what he drew. This caused an uproar of his fans to come attack me, and it did cause me to become scared and get away from my account. Alfa decided to insert herself into the mix, but I didn’t care enough for her to say anything. It was mostly Alex and how much he was “scared” and cried about the “fandom being so hateful and scary.” He went private for a while I believe, but Alfa was still going hard at me and sending more of her fans to come harass me.

If Alex ever says he is a strong and brave man, don’t believe him. He fears the HH fandom.

Anyhow, after Alfa’s fans had done their best to gaslight me, I didn’t give in. In fact, I made amends with the random user that tagged me. Somehow they assumed I would like the art of Vaggie being killed, which was childish to even believe in. Nonetheless, I forgave them, and we moved on from there.

But even when we both resolved this together, Alfa and Alex decided that it would be fun to make this “kill Vaggie art” a meme, or trend. With their huge followings combined, they were able to get their artist fans to join in and start creating so much hate art of Vaggie. Many of them drew her head being cut off, mutilated, raped and cheated on.

Alfa and Alex adore gaslighting the hell out of people. While they draw such hideous things, they will go ahead and say, “but it’s just fiction, it’s not real,” and call you psychotic for even caring so much about their bad behaviour. I can only imagine what Alfa’s husband goes through everyday since Alfa loves to make people second-guess themselves often.

Keep in mind, Alfa and Alex are the same people who will cry and shake when their fictional ship is invalidated and written out. They often wish nothing good for Viv and her team that are providing these ungrateful children with the show and content they so badly want. It shows you just how privileged they had grown up as children, doesn’t it?

This wasn’t fun, it was horrible. I didn’t realize just how many toxic people existed in the HH fandom until this “trend” began to spread.

But the funny thing that I'll never forget is how apeshit Alfa went when I had the audacity to draw Alastor plus sized. She accused me of being a pedophile, supporting MAPs. Even though she leans towards being pro-ship (likes incest, OK with lolicon, will condone drawing necophilia.) But me? Having the sheer audacity of drawing Alastor fat? It burned her so bad.

As well, this was being pushed on the VAs during a small livestream. The chat wouldn’t stop asking, “what do you think of the Vaggie kill art going around?” Of course the VAs ignored these questions, but it was really rude to even ask these things. Especially when Vaggie’s VA was in the same livestream.

But then this trend was proven to be a lie, by Alex’s own words. He dropped the ball in a one-off conversation with an anti that “he only created this to get back at the Chaggie shippers.” So retroactively, this trend was worthless.

What also began to start becoming obvious was that Alfa was too afraid to do anything on her own, and thus, she will recruit some darlings to defend her. Alfa seems to have more defenders than she has any confidence to defend herself, and when she has no choice but to stand up for herself, she will buckle and hide. She is weak, is what I had learnt.

I decided to just ignore Alex and Alfa as much as I could. With a friend though, I was given updates of what was happening on the Double AAs’ side in the meantime, and it’s amazing to see just how vile they can be with their own fans and haters. Especially with their new puppy named Salty. (I think that’s their name, another weak ass bitch.)

As months went by, the major event that stirred from the AA camp was when they were harassing Pastel Sky. This would be where the big reveal of just how horrible the AAs and their friends truly are, when they have nobody to harass except for kids. HH has a wide audience of children involved in this fandom, hence why many other artists keep saying we should try to be good examples for them, and keep them safe. But not for the AAs.

Pastel was ruthlessly attacked by them and it was all unwarranted. What they were angry about was that Pastel had the nerve to have negative opinions when it came to AAs, and they broke their own rule of “don’t like then block.” Even Galactic Potatoes (Spuds) would go out of their way, again, to gaslight Pastel into believing that what attacks she received on Twitter was allowed, because Pastel was asking for it. Spuds is well-known to gaslight, a thing they had learnt from the AAs quite often.

Pastel was a minor at the time, and it really doesn’t matter if Pastel was just 17. I don’t care if Pastel was only 17 and that “well she’s almost 18,” because regardless of age, harassment is not the answer. Follow by that, fighting with minors is actually fucking stupid and braindead. Spuds tried very hard to justify why attacks were OK, and that Pastel “should learn” how to grow up. I then learnt that Spuds went into hiding afterwards.

That was until the Double AAs’ discord chats were exposed, showing that they were practically mouth-watering at Pastel’s pain, romanticizing her apparent abuse and trying to convince each other how her punishment on Twitter was correct. Even one (I believe was Jay because he loves me and wants me back) wished that I would die. This would be the third time he asked me to die indirectly, which justifies my points on how toxic and abusive they are.

This entire event seemed to have unraveled a new wave of truths, and it’s sad to know it had to take a literal minor to have their masks fall off.

In 2021, Alex was exposed to be a thief. Stealing commission money for “stress pills.” If Alex is on a path of drug addiction, I hope it’s not the case. That’s a terrible place to be, and hopefully he’ll be clean and grow up for once. I still don’t care enough about Alfa, after now knowing all she is, is just a dramatic housewife with nothing better to do in her life. Perhaps if they just got jobs instead of stealing money from fans, they’d be leading well-productive lives.

From what I understand, many of the toxic fans of the Double AAs have either dropped HH fandom, or have deleted their accounts. Good, I hope they stay gone. The fandom deserves better, not trash.

Needless to say, the best advice I can give to those in the HH fandom that come facing the Double AAs is to not be afraid of them.

Over time, once you get used to their behaviour, you come to realize that this is their default. They’re not likable, they’re not nice, and they aren’t appreciative of one singular thing you do for them (hence Alex stealing from his own fans.)

It’s their M.O., they are just that cruel. So don’t fear them, but challenge their behaviour. Don’t stoop to their level of wanting to draw hateful art, though, that will fuel them. Talking down to them like their idiots always works like a charm.

Anyways, thanks for reading.

If anybody from the Double AAs’ camp ever finds this and reads it, I just wanna say that you are doing a great job, sweety. Thanks for proving me right by the new year. I appreciate the honesty for once. It only took you a year, just think of what other things you’ll do in the next year.

[luxekook]

love bites | ksj

*written for the FWL luv library project*

⇥ pairing: kim seokjin x reader

⇥ genre: non-idol au, co-workers to lovers, smut, fluff

⇥ summary: you’re stuck working the evening shift on valentine’s day at bangtan bistro. as the city’s most expensive and exclusive restaurant, the bistro draws in couples both old and new with partners looking to propose or to impress. your tolerance for PDA and cringey lovebirds has never been lower. throw a flirty chef into the mix and you’re in for a bumpy ride that might just conclude with a happy ending.

⇥ word count: 5.4k

⇥ warnings: 18+, smut, cursing, bad puns from jin, numerous health-code violations (from fraternizing all up in that kitchen), oral (m + f receiving), protected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it, folks), workplace romance, threats of violence from yoongi

⇥ beta'd by the amazing @shadowsremedy​ (thank you, heath! could not have done this without you, your feedback, and your general support!)

“Will you marry me?”

I screech to a halt, completely astounded at the goddamned audacity of the man kneeling before me. Did he really just ask that? At a time like this?

I shift my weight from one foot to the other as I try not to outwardly show my disgust over the scene unfolding before my very eyes.

“Oh my god, Chad!” The date of this Chad finally launches herself from her seat and into his arms, “Yes!”

The restaurant breaks into applause. My forehead breaks into a sweat.

My left arm feels like it might snap at any moment under the weight of the tray of food that I’m meant to be serving this goddamn theatrical couple. The thought of quitting crosses my mind for the umpteenth time that evening.

A camera flash temporarily stuns me, and I feel a tiny twinge of satisfaction. My looming presence in that commemorative photo will hopefully be a reminder to let servers do their damn job before launching into a whole ordeal.

God, I must have been off my fucking rocker when I agreed to work the Valentine’s Day dinner shift. At least the tip money would be worth it.

Gritting my teeth, I flash my best fake smile and offer words of congratulations to the sniffling couple who finally reclaimed their seats.

“Enjoy your meal,” my mouth says with a smile.

“I wish I could sear you like that filet mignon you ordered, Chad,” my glare says with promise.

Thirty seconds later, I’m in full whisper-rant mode at the corner server station. My friend and fellow server Tabby half-listens as she punches in an order at the kiosk.

“And then this Chad in his fucking khaki suit flails to the ground to pop the question like he didn’t see me walking towards them with all seven entrees they ordered. So then I’m stuck hovering over their table with a giant-ass tray of food while they cry and hug and kiss until, finally, finally, they park it back in their seats so I can serve them.”

I groan, hitting my head against the wall, “What did I do in a past life to deserve this?”

“Kill someone, probably,” a voice pipes up from behind the station’s kitchen window, “Oh wait, you would do that in this life, too.”

Kim Seokjin, head chef of Bangtan Bistro and my partial employer, is leaning over the window’s counter, eyes full of mischief as he watches me.

“Oh, what’s this? Are you volunteering to be my very first victim?” I mirror his position leaning over the window’s counter and give him my best side-eye, “I’ll send you my application for victims on Google Docs.”

“Sounds kinky,” Seokjin grins, “Count me in. My Gmail username is Hugh Chefner. No capitals or spaces.”

“I despise you,” I say biting back a smile.

“You lo-o-ove me!” He sings, heading back into the depths of the hectic kitchen.

And, unfortunately, he’s right. Damn Kim Seokjin and his insane level of gorgeousness, charisma, and dramatics.

Against my better judgment, Seokjin has shimmied his chaotic self right into my well-guarded heart. Despite all of the prickliness my typical demeanor displays, I can’t help but melt under the warm gaze of such a handsome man.

Seokjin is the first person that has ever been able to pique my interest lately and keep it. Yes, it might have something to do with his extreme attractiveness; but, it more-so has everything to do with his genuine kindness and weird sense of humor.

Shit, I’ve gone soft. If we’re arguing Nature vs. Nurture here, this is totally Nurture’s fault.

Bangtan Bistro is co-owned by seven men - each as fine as the next. Being surrounded by good-looking and kind-hearted men day in and day out will definitely fuck with your brain, your body, and eventually even your fucking heart.

Kim Namjoon, a tall, dimpled sweetheart of a man, acts as general manager. Namjoon typically resides in the back office of the restaurant running numbers and going over other business ventures. He used to frequent the front of the restaurant to check on customers, but Jimin has since banned him from that activity after the infamous Spaghetti Incident of 2019.

Park Jimin, as the overseer of staff and servers, commands the restaurant floor with a crinkly-eyed smile and a ferocious temper. Fortunately for his direct subordinates (READ: me), his temper is most likely to be focused on rude customers and his messy business partners. Jimin honestly is the ideal boss because he has our backs and will never hesitate to help anyone out.

Late one Saturday evening, a man refused to leave the restaurant after being cut off from his bar tab. Jimin full-on squared up with him in defense of the poor server who had to break the news to the drunk patron. Luckily, the Bistro’s head of security, Jeon Jungkook, took over before Jimin actually popped off.

Jungkook, as the youngest partner, is shockingly tall and muscular. He definitely provides the intimidation needed for those types of escalating incidents. Despite his tough exterior, Jungkook is a complete softie.

I once caught Jungkook in the kitchen after close attempting to make cookies for a girl he had a crush on. I walked in to see Jungkook standing over a tray of the unidentifiable charred monstrosities and pouting in the most ridiculous way. Needless to say, I helped him bake a new batch with the oven not turned up to 500 degrees so that “they would cook faster”.

Min Yoongi had found the pair of us bickering and had just rolled his eyes and scooped a mouthful of raw cookie dough. As the head bartender, Yoongi is the absolute best at mixing drinks and the absolute worst at customer service. I swear the man gets far too much pleasure from getting people thrown out. He’s also notorious for watering down the drinks of customers he doesn’t like. He’s petty like that. I live for it.

Once, Jung Hoseok tried to take a picture of Yoongi for the restaurant’s website, and Yoongi threatened to shove a sharpened cocktail umbrella through Hoseok’s eye. I had never seen the Bistro’s head of marketing and resident sunshine flee so fast. Hoseok later ended up using an old picture of Yoongi in retaliation; rumor has it Yoongi is still plotting his revenge to this day.

Kim Taehyung often grumbles about how he’s going to be put out of a job since the restaurant naturally provides daily entertainment. As the head of entertainment and events, Taehyung helps to secure live music and special guests. He’s also the most handsome man I have ever seen - with the exception of one Kim Seokjin.

Seokjin, as head chef, is responsible for planning the seasonal menus, overseeing the kitchen staff, and preparing the more challenging dishes. He’s even taken it upon himself to be the resident comedian, which the other six partners vehemently and openly detest. Still, that backlash has not stopped him from naming each evening special with puns. His last Seokjin Special was called “Chicken Pot Bye Felicia”. It had resulted in Yoongi banning Seokjin from the restaurant for a full week. He still hasn’t dared to make another pun, but I can tell it will only be a matter of time.

Basically, Seokjin is an entirely goofy and beautiful mess of a human. Yet, I can’t stop myself from falling deeper and deeper into the trap that is loving someone outside of your league.

When I first arrived at the Bistro for my inaugural shift, I was greeted enthusiastically by Jimin, who I’d met previously in my interview. Jimin had introduced me to each of his partners - each as handsome as the last. Honestly, my eyes and nerves had been exhausted after meeting almost all of them. Then Jimin had ushered me into the kitchen.

“Hey, Jin-hyung!” Jimin had yelled over the cacophony of sizzling pans and murmured conversation. I had watched in awe as the hottest man I’ve ever seen entered my line of vision and stopped before me. Tall and broad-shouldered, he had a face that could inspire priceless works of art with full pink lips, high cheekbones, and devilish dark eyes.

“You summoned me, Jiminie?” The man had laughed in a slightly squeaky manner before he noticed my presence, “Ah, who might this be?”

I had cleared my throat in hopes that my voice wouldn’t crack under the sheer weight of this man’s attractiveness, “Hi, I’m (y/n). I’m starting today as a server.” and thrust my hand out with a shy smile.

He had blinked. Slowly, a smirk eased onto his face as he grabbed my hand. Instead of shaking it, he had brought it to his lips. “A pleasure. I’m Seokjin,” he had murmured, lips brushing against my knuckles. My cheeks had felt like they were on fire as Jimin screeched at Seokjin for harassing me.

“It’s her first day, Jin! Lay off the theatrics,” Jimin had turned to me, “Sorry about him, (y/n). He’s a desperate flirt.”

“Desperate? Me?” Seokjin gasped, “Worldwide Handsome does not do desperate.”

“Did you just refer to yourself as ‘Worldwide Handsome’?” I had gaped at his open arrogance.

Seokjin proudly had puffed up his chest, “Yes. What else could I possibly be called?”

“Well, definitely not Worldwide Humble,” My mouth had said before my brain caught up.

The room had seemed to pause before Jimin erupted in peals of laughter as Seokjin spluttered, “Yah, Jiminie, you can’t let her talk to me like that!”

Still laughing, Jimin had choked out, “(y/n), you officially have a job here until you die.”

Ever since that first encounter, Seokjin and I have established a working relationship based on banter or what Tabby refers to as ‘flirting’. I refuse to believe that ridiculous notion.

Tabby finally finishes entering her order into the kiosk and turns to me, “So, any hot plans for tonight?” Her eyebrows wiggle up and down suggestively.

“Does solo Netflix and chill count as hot plans?” I deadpan as I peer around the server station divider to covertly check on my tables. I lock eyes on Chad and his fiancé, who already seem to be arguing, and I make an executive decision to not go check how their meal is going.

“No!” Tabby’s whisper-yell commands my attention, “That definitely does not count, (y/n). Why didn’t you find someone on Tinder? I even made you that bomb-ass profile.”

I pointedly look everywhere but at her.

“You deleted the app, didn’t you,” she glares at me, arms folded, “I slaved over that profile! There were only so many tasteful cleavage shots of my best friend that I could stomach in one sitting!”

“What the fuck, Tabby! Since when do I have any—”

“Tasteful cleavage shots?” Seokjin’s elated voice practically shouts from the kitchen, “Let me at ‘em.”

His hands launch towards us through the kitchen window and make grabbing motions.

“Seokjin,” I tsk mockingly, “Are you trying to grab my tits again?”

“Again?” Tabby cries, whirling on Seokjin, who looks at us in horror.

“I wasn’t! I swear! I just wanted to see the pictures! I didn’t want to grab your boobs…” He trails off, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like ‘not any more than usual, anyway’.

“Seokjin-hyung! (y/n)!” Jimin blazes into the service station, “I’ve had it up to here with your bickering. You’re both on closing duties tonight - alone.”

“What?” I exclaim as Tabby slinks away. Traitor. “We’re just joking with each other! Right, Seokjin?”

Jimin’s gaze swings from me to Seokjin, who is suddenly suspiciously calm. My eyes narrow. A silent conversation is definitely happening without my participation.

Finally, Seokjin just shrugs with a grin, “Sounds fair to me, Jiminie! (y/n) and I will work hard all night if we have to.”

“Fair?” I choke, “All night?”

Jimin, following Tabby’s lead, scurries away as my attention is diverted by Seokjin’s idiocy. “Scared to be alone with me, (y/n)?” Seokjin’s lips break into a sly smile, “Don’t worry, I don’t bite… much.”

With that parting remark, Seokjin winks at me and disappears back into the kitchen.

“Fuck me,” I breathe out. How would I survive this?

Five hours later, the last patron has been ushered out of the restaurant with the staff right on their heels. I curse as Yoongi waltzes out the door, fanning himself with a crisp fifty-dollar bill and winking obnoxiously. “Have fun!” He cackles, locking the restaurant doors behind him.

“No, please don’t offer to stay and help,” I grumble, sweeping stray pieces of lettuce out from under a table, “I am more than happy to stay here until the ass-crack of dawn with the biggest idiot on the face of the earth.”

“The biggest, huh?” The voice chuckles right in my ear, “How did you know?”

“Goddamnit, Seokjin!” I slap a hand to my heart, “Don’t sneak up on me like that, you oaf!”

Whirling to face him, I stutter to a halt. He’s taken off his heavy chef’s coat and is now left in a tight black t-shirt that clings to his body in a manner that has to be illegal.

I swallow hard, and for a split second, I swear Seokjin’s gaze latches onto my throat.

“Is it hot in here?” I mutter distractedly, tugging at the collar of my stiff white button-down.

“Yes,” Seokjin practically purrs, “It’s scorching.”

Choosing not to acknowledge him, I spin on my heels, grabbing the full dustpan of debris I collected and head towards the back of the restaurant.

Emptying the dustpan in the trash, I walk over to the supply closet to return the broom. The restaurant floor is finished. Now, I just had to see how much of the kitchen Seokjin actually cleaned.

Pushing through the swinging doors of the kitchen, I screech to a halt as I’m faced with a complete and utter miracle.

“What in tarnation?” I gasp, taking in the pristine kitchen full of glistening stainless steel and sparkling countertops. “Kim Seokjin!” I yell, “You damn wizard! How the fuck did you clean everything this fast?”

“You could say I was motivated,” his reply sounds entirely too close. I spin to face him and gape as I notice the bouquet of red roses that he’s holding out to me.

Taking in my speechless appearance, Seokjin smiles smugly and opens his mouth to continue.

I cut him off, “Tell me those aren’t the roses from the fucking table centerpieces... I threw those in the trash, Seokjin!”

His ears turn an alarming shade of magenta, “Yah, just accept the gesture, (y/n)! This is peak romance, you know!”

“They are covered in filth, dude!” I squint, peering closer, “Is that a piece of spaghetti in there?”

Seokjin yeets the makeshift bouquet back into the garbage, “Why can’t you just appreciate my efforts?” He pouts excessively, “Don’t you like me?”

Red alert. Red alert, my mind whirs.

“Sure,” I let out a nervous laugh, “We’re friends. Of course, I like you.”

He steps towards me, “Sure, we’re friends, (y/n), but friends don’t usually want to fuck each other.”

That bitch said what now?

“Did you inhale too much Clorox?” I panic, “Quick, how many fingers am I holding up?” Thrusting three fingers in front of Seokjin’s amused face, I widen my eyes as he suddenly grabs my hand.

“Baby,” he says lowly, sending a delicious shiver down my spine, “If you keep being so adorable, I may just have to keep you.”

Well, shit, okay. “Say less,” I breathe and then immediately slam my mouth shut.

I receive a classic Seokjin grin in return for my idiocy, and my knees shake. Honestly, who the fuck allowed him to be that devastating?

Slowly, his grin slips away, and his eyes ignite with raw desire, “Tell me what you want from me, (y/n).”

My mind short circuits, automatically reverting to my default mode of sass, “Uh, peace and quiet?”

“Really?” Seokjin murmurs, stepping even closer still, “So you don’t want me to kiss you? You don’t want me to turn you over and fuck you until you scream?”

My breathing is ragged. His eyes burn with a hunger I had never seen before, and I’m crumbling.

“Answer me,” Jin demands, desperation seeped in each word, “Please.”

“Seokjin—” I gasp, dumbfounded, “Where the hell is this coming from? We’re coworkers! You’re my boss!”

His eyes flashed darkly as he moved his head closer to mine, “That’s all irrelevant, baby.”

“Irrelevant—!” I stab a finger into his firm chest, “Oh, you little shit, you can’t just say that you want to fuck me and then say that our working relationship is irrelevant! I could get fired. You could get fired!”

“That’s highly unlikely given the fact that everyone else knows my plans to ask you out right now.”

“Hold on a second,” I narrow my eyes, “Are you saying that you purposefully planned for us to stay late tonight to clean the entire goddamn restaurant just so you could ask me out? Are you fucking insane?”

“I prefer the term ‘quirky’,” he quips, “But, yeah, I may have paid everyone $50 to leave us alone for the night.”

“Well, that explains Yoongi… that shady motherfucker,” I internally make note to plot my vengeance. “Why couldn’t you have just slid in my DMs like a normal person, Seokjin?” I groan, “I would have responded to a ‘you up’ with a ‘yes, come over’.”

Seokjin whips out his cell phone. “Does this apply to right now?” he asks, typing furiously.

My phone dings with several Instagram notifications.

hughchefner: u up

hughchefner: wyd

hughchefner: date me?

(y/n): bet

Seokjin’s eyes shoot up to mine after he reads my response, “Really? You agreed to date me by saying ‘bet’ in an Instagram DM?”

“Yup,” I shrug, “No take-backs. Also, to answer your previous questions: Yes, I do want you to kiss me with your insufferable mouth, and, yes, I do want to sit on your dick. Okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Say less,” Seokjin echoes my earlier statement and captures my mouth with his. I wrap my arms around his neck, kissing him back with equal fervor.

“(Y/n),” he groans right as my tongue swipes teasingly against his lower lip.

His hands slid down my body, pausing only to squeeze my waist gently before settling firmly on my ass. His fingers dig in hard and I let out an embarrassingly loud moan.

“You like that, baby? You like when I’m rough?” Seokjin pulls his lips off mine and murmurs sinfully, “God, I want to devour you.”

I lift my chin up and challenge, “Do it, you won’t.”

His eyes flare, “Oh, babygirl, you were made for me.” Seokjin’s lips return to mine, moving at a slow but ravenous pace.

Still kissing me, he picks me up and places me on one of the kitchen’s stainless steel counters. His hands grab my thighs, tugging them apart to make room for him to stand between them. A harsh groan rises from the depths of his chest as our bodies align.

I hook one leg around his waist and tug him closer still. Pulling my lips away, I lean my head back as I slowly trace his muscles through his shirt. He watches me with his puffy lips parted, his breathing hard. His eyes are wild and I’m loving every second of it.

The room suddenly feels too hot. My hands dart up to shakily begin undoing the buttons of my shirt. Seokjin’s eyes follow my movements with fascination. “Let me,” he purrs and proceeds to rip my shirt from my body. Buttons scatter on the floor with sorrowful little bounces.

“You bitch,” I yank his hair, “That was my good work shirt.”

“I’ll buy you ten more,” Seokjin’s voice is rough and full of desire as he takes in my lacy white bra. Suddenly, his mouth descends to suck at my nipple through the thin lace.

“Damn, you are so fucking sexy,” he pulls his mouth away, “Can I take this off?”

I nod like a bobblehead in 60mph winds, reaching around my back with one hand to undo the clasp and then throwing my bra clear across the kitchen. It lands on top of one of the fridges and I shrug. I’d retrieve it later.

Seokjin tugs off his own shirt, revealing planes of tanned skin. I don’t hesitate to run my hands up and down the definition of his abs and watch in fascination as his muscles constrict under my touch. I run my hands lower, tracing his defined v-line.

No wonder they call it the Adonis belt, I muse, pondering if he’d let me lick it.

Huffing in impatience at my slow exploration, Seokjin returns his mouth to my nipple and sucks hard. My eyes nearly roll into the back of my head. He bites down gently and then blows on my nipple slowly. I moan at the sensation. I watch him through unfocused eyes as his hand slides down the front of my body. He reaches the button of my pants and pauses.

Seokjin pulls his mouth away from my nipple, his lips swollen and pink. “You have to say yes, baby.” His breath hits my ear, making me shiver.

I hold out my hand for a high-five and declare, “We stan a man who asks for clear consent.” Chuckling, Seokjin slaps my offered hand and then links his fingers with mine.

“Also,” I continue, looking into his eyes, “It’s a fuck yes.” I pull our linked fingers close to place a kiss on his knuckles.

“Cute,” he grins, “Now, can I take off your pants?”

“Take off yours first,” I order.

“So eager,” he laughs, making quick work of his black jeans. My mouth instantly waters at the sight of his hard cock straining to be released from the confines of his bright red Versace boxer briefs.

“Why am I not surprised that even your underwear is extra?” I mumble, flicking the button of my pants open.

Laughing, Seokjin takes over, tugging my pants down my legs. He then pushes my matching white lace panties aside and cups my pussy, applying pressure. I roll my hips into his hand.

His fingers trace lightly up and down my pussy, before one dips inside me. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” he groans.

“Always,” I breathe out. Suddenly, he pulls his hand away from me. I pout. Seokjin laughs at my expression and then licks his finger.

“Jesus fuck, (y/n), you taste so sweet. Let me eat you out,” he pleads.

I smirk, saying, “I thought you’d never ask,” and then gasp as he kneels before me, grabbing my hips. Seokjin moves to tear my underwear off, and I’m quick to place my foot on his forehead to stop his approach. “I swear to god, Seokjin, if you rip these, I will get Namjoon to permanently ban Seokjin Specials.”

“You’re evil,” he grins, “I love it.” He makes a show of slowly taking my panties off before throwing them carelessly behind him. He then yanks the same leg I had used to thwart his panty-tearing plans and throws it over his shoulder before returning his fingers to my pussy. Seokjin’s thumb circles my clit while two of his fingers thrust into me at a maddening rate.

My fingers grip his hair when I finally feel his tongue licking up the juices that have started to run down my thighs.

After sucking what will probably become a massive hickey onto my left inner thigh, his tongue licks a path straight up my folds until it circles around my clit maddeningly. “Goddamnit, Seokjin, stop teasing,” my voice cracks in desperation, but my plea works. His tongue flicks at my clit lightly before his lips close over it and suck.

“Fuck,” I moan, “I think I like you eating me out more than I like eating your cooking.”

He pulls back to briefly land a light swat on my pussy and I choke on air as painful pleasure shoots through me. “Take that back,” he growls, “My cooking is second only to my handsome face.”

“God, I fucking hate you,” I drawl. The emphasis in my words portrays the exact opposite.

Seokjin sends me a shit-eating grin before his tongue returns to lick at my swollen clit, up and down, and then in a slow circle. His fingers brush open my folds just enough for him to sink his tongue into me. “O-oh,” I throw my head back, one hand moving up to pinch one of my nipples while the other latches back into Seokjin’s hair.

“I’m s-so close, baby,” my words slur as I shamelessly beg, “Don’t stop.”

He immediately pulls away.

“Oh, fuck you,” I seethe. I yank his head back by his hair until his neck is stretched in a long line. His hair is a mess, and I’ve never seen anything hotter.

“I just want to feel you come when I’m inside you, baby,” he smiles, my wetness glistening on his lips.

“Fine,” I shimmy off of the counter onto shaky legs, “Two can play at that game.”

“What?” Seokjin’s brows furrow in confusion.

It’s my turn to drop to my knees. “Oh, shit,” he curses as I tug his boxers down to reveal his hard cock. It’s silky and gorgeous, and I can’t stop staring at it. Seokjin, of course, notices. “You like my cock, babygirl? Take it. It’s yours.”

It already was, I think, as my gaze darts up to meet his.

Without breaking eye contact, I lick his reddened tip, almost moaning at his taste. “Fuck, babygirl,” Seokjin throws his head back. I smile wickedly. I could definitely get addicted to ruining this beautiful boy. “Look at me,” I command, feeling so powerful when he immediately listens.

Slowly, I suck down on his length, hollowing out my cheeks. My eyes stay on his as he groans, and I can tell he’s straining to keep from thrusting into my mouth.

“Please, baby, fuck—!” He moans as I swallow around him and then release him from my mouth with a pop. My hand darts up to grip him tightly, pumping him. Moving slowly, I suck one of his balls into my mouth, rolling my tongue around it gently. Seokjin chokes, “Fuck me.”

“We’ll get there, baby,” I tug my mouth away and grin up at him.

I suck him as far down as I can. His control snaps and he begins to thrust wildly into my mouth, panting.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” his eyes scrunch up as he chants, “I’m gonna come.”

I release him ruthlessly.

“Goddamnit,” he cries, “I knew that was coming, but it still hurts.”

“Well,” I wiggle my eyebrows at him, “If only you had a pretty little pussy ready for you to fuck… Oh, wait.”

Seokjin chuckles, “I see I wasn’t able to fuck some of the sass out of that mouth. We might have to try that again later.”

“Gladly,” I grin back at him, “You have a condom?”

Seokjin picks up his discarded jeans from the floor and digs around in the back pockets. “Aha!” He yells, hoisting up the glimmering gold foil in triumph.

I roll my eyes before snatching the condom from the idiot. Tearing the foil packaging open with my teeth, I grab Seokjin’s length and pump him a few times in preparation.

“Stop being a tease,” he mumbles, thrusting shallowly into my hand.

“Stop being so hot,” I challenge, leaning down to lick his pre-cum dripping from the reddened tip of his cock.

“Impossible,” Seokjin smirks before tugging me back up to face him.

He drops his lips to mine and sucks on my bottom lip. Pulling away slightly, he tugs at it in a stinging bite. Withdrawing his mouth from mine, he spins me around and bends me over the counter.

I feel the head of his cock running teasingly over the folds of my pussy and I gasp, “Please, baby, I need you inside me.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He thrusts into me in one sharp movement. We both gasp as he fills me, gliding in and out.

“Harder,” I moan.

“Fuck,” he mutters, “I’m trying to last over here.”

“Why? We have all night,” I pout before an idea pops into my head, and I taunt, “Wait, are you telling me you’re a one and done type of old man?”

“Oh, you’re going to regret that,” Seokjin mutters darkly.

His hard cock fills and stretches me, pleasure emanating within me from every sharp thrust of his hips.

“Your pussy is mine,” he growls, “I’ll fuck you from against the wall after this. I’ll fuck you until you can’t sass me anymore. And I’ll fuck you all night, baby, and every night after that.”

I clench around him as his dirty words wash over me. “Those are all great ideas in theory,” I gasp out, “But I really want to ride you first.”

“Oh, babygirl wants to fuck herself on my cock?” Seokjin slaps my ass before pulling out, “Well, come on.”

I stand upright and turn to see him walking towards the large island in the middle of the room. He hops onto it and lays down, placing one arm behind his head, and the other one slowly strokes his cock.

“You better get that hand off your cock before I decide to never let you into my pussy again,” I say darkly as I move towards him.

His hand flies off his dick at the speed of light, his eyes wide as they focus on me.

When I get close enough, I climb up onto the island and kneel with one leg on each side of his tapered waist. I slowly sink down so that just his tip is inside me and squeeze.

A garbled moan escapes Seokjin, his hands shooting out to grab my waist in an attempt to push me down further.

“Someone’s eager,” I whisper, bending down to press a quick kiss to his lips.

“I’ve been fucking eager since you were hired.” He smacks my ass and then groans as I reflexively sink down another inch.

“Yeah?” I question, sinking down another inch as his eyes squeeze shut, “You should have said something sooner, baby. I could have been riding you hard for months.”

Seokjin pouts, “Well, there’s no time like the present?”

“God, you’re such a dweeb,” I grin before taking him to the hilt. We both let out strangled breaths as I shift slightly, before placing a hand on his neck.

Keeping my hand there, I lift up and begin riding him hard. My body slides up and down onto his cock at a fast pace. Sweat drips down my back. Seokjin grabs my ass, his fingers gripping my skin, and pounds up into my pussy with brutal and possessive force.

“O-oh, fuck.” There’s something about riding Seokjin that just feels so good. My hips swivel and roll against his. The pleasure steadily builds, and I try to distract myself by biting down on Seokjin’s neck.

“I’m gonna come,” he moans, “Are you close?”

I pull away from his neck and sit up, arching my back to give him a deeper angle. He thrusts up into my g-spot and I gasp, “Shit, yes, I’m close. Come with me, baby.”

I clench my walls around him. Seokjin’s eyes are scrunched shut as he continues to pound into me with harsh strokes.

He shifts one hand from my ass to gently circle my aching clit, and I light up. My walls clench and pulse, locking down on Seokjin so tight that he comes, his hot seed filling the condom as he shudders.

I collapse against him and shove my face into his sweaty neck.

I can feel his laugh bubbling up from his chest before I hear it. “What’s so funny?” I ask, lips brushing his skin.

“Namjoon’s going to kill us for the number of health code violations we just committed,” his laughter causes his cock to shift within me, and I bite back a moan.

“Well,” I lift my face up from his neck to look at him, “We have nothing to lose at this point then, huh?”

I slowly lick my lips, and his eyes drop to them. The only noise left in the restaurant is our heavy breathing. “Round two in Namjoon’s office?” he suggests.

“Bet.”

a/n: this was so fun to write :) hope you all enjoyed it! happy valentine’s day!

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

[hypnotica-ships]

Baby Steps

Rematch time! Place your bets.

Phase 1: Part 4

Word Count: (About) 1,280

1//2//3//4//5//6//7//8//9

"You. Me. Rematch. Tonight."

"No."

"...Tomorrow night?"

"Fine."

With that, Crow leaves to his room for some much needed rest. He could only think about what Holger said about him steadying his emotions. Is he really going to take his words to heart? Why should he? Maybe because it's been a long while since he's had his ass handed to him. Or maybe it's because even though Holger won, he wasn't boastful about it like he would of been? Or could it even be that Holger actually gave him another shot to prove himself? What does Holger gain from all of this anyways? He doesn't even seem to like him, or well, most people.

All these questions were stopping him from gaining any type of rest. So he decided to make use of this time and train instead. He remembered seeing a gym type area when he got lost looking for his Uncle's office, guess it wouldn't hurt to practice 'steadying his emotions' there.

Why does he have to make things difficult, not only for himself, but for others as well? Holger was trying to come to terms with this new assignment he pretty much gave himself. It's not like he can't handle it, but it's definitely a new type of challenge. Beating Crow up daily won't solve anything, he needs him to listen and understand him as well. He never had this much trouble with the other men in his unit, what makes Crow so special?

"Hiya! Huhg! Ah! Ya!"

The aggressive grunting of training broke him out of his spell. He must of wandered near the gym, but who would be training this late at night. Oh, wait.

"Heya! Hut! Ha!"

"Hmph, you really want to kick my ass that badly, huh?"

"Huh? Oh. Well, if you put it like that your gunna make me feel bad about it. To be fair, I don't really have anything against you. I realize that you were trying to help...in your own...stupid way. I just want to win, at least once, then I'll be out of you're hair for good."

"..."

"What?"

"Even if, in the slim chance you do manage to beat me, I...I don't think you should leave."

"...Why? All I've done was cause trouble since I got here. This isn't really a place for someone like me. I'm better off going back home and living out my sad little life drowning in music and booze like I was before."

"Your Uncle believes you could be putting your skills to good use here, instead of wasting away with 'music and booze'....Look, I get that you don't feel as though this place is for you, it's...a different atmosphere here, trust me I know, but you have so much potential, I know Guile sees it, and I'm sure Charlie did as well."

"And you?"

"...You...definitely impressed me, even if you weren't able to land a single hit. I think that if you would be open for taking some advice, you would be a fine addition to my unit."

"Heh...you seem almost genuine...alright. You were watching me a bit before you came into talk to me, ya? I'd hate to ask this, but...got any pointers?"

As the night went on, the two of them practiced together. Crow was pretty good about keeping a calm head and an open mind as Holger tried to guide him in the fine art of assault. Not much progress was made on Crow's end, but he took all of what Holger taught him to heart, and is totally not planning on using those skills in their next fight.

The day went on and Crow was sent to do push-ups for entire time he was supposed to be training with the unit, as punishment for the low performance of their first bout. Not that he got through most of them. Staying up till God-knows-when trying to keep his cool while training, takes a toll on ones body. It turned into more of an impromptu nap time. Holger noticed, and since he ordered him to do it and was partially responsible, he'd let Crow rest a bit...before waking him to keep going every five 5 minutes.

After dinner, there was some time before Crow and Holger had to duke it out again. Crow took this time to find a nice spot to relax. He found an old, rusted, barely used plane, and sat on it's wing to get a nice view of the sunset. Thinking this might be the only time he'll have a moment of peace for a while.

"We can't seem to keep away from each other can we?"

"Oh, Holger! I...didn't think anybody would be out here."

"I usually come here to get away from the others, they can become annoying at times."

"Yeah, you don't quite strike me as a people person."

"Hmph, I like people just fine. I'm not a fan of the annoying, stupid ones though."

"Ah, like me."

"..."

"I'm just teasing you, don't get so huffy about it. Hey, why don't you come up here and join me, it's a hell of a view. It'd be nice to relax a bit before we have to kill each other."

"I most likely won't kill you, but I will join you. Peace is a rare thing around here, more-so since you showed up..."

"You're welcome! I've been known to make things more....interesting. I....do have something to ask you though..."

"Hm?"

"Can you try not to send me to infirmary this time? You really had Uncle Bill worried about me. He even gave me a whole speech about being 'safe' afterwords. I just...don't want him to have to worry about me like that again, okay?"

"I...suppose I can give it a try. No promises, though. You are very easy to punch."

"Hehe, yeah, I can understand that...but that won't be the case for much longer. You mark my words."

The two of them fell silent, watching as the sun slowly set in a sea of beautiful colors. Waiting for the dark blues and blacks to settle in the sky, signalling that their moment of peace was over. They both silently moved off the plane wing and into a more open area of the field. Now it's just them, all alone.

"Are you ready, then, Crow?"

"...More-so than last time, at least."

"Very well, let's begin."

As the familiar song and dance of their fight begins, the feelings of stress and anger from their first bout seem like a distant memory. This time the air is filled with determination and respect. Holger noticed that Crow is slower than last time, he's seems to be actually thinking about his next moves, not as much as he should, but still, he's learning. Crow still can't seem to land a punch and is knocked down, again and again. However, he seems to be keeping his cool...somewhat.

"Fuck! Let me....hit you!"

His anger seems to be geared more towards himself than anything else this time. Holger lets up, giving Crow a clear opening to land a hit, just to see if he'll take it. He doesn't. Crow instead seems to be lost in thought, as if he's trying to keep something down, stopping himself from losing the little control he has left. Realizing what Crow's doing, he goes in for a knock down, but Crow dodges it, and follows through with a counter, landing a good hit on his jaw. Crow's learning, and Holger almost feels proud, but it's time to put this fun to an end. He manages to get a good trip on him, and on the way down delivers a final blow. Knocking Crow out, once again.

"...I did say...no promises..."

Continued in Phase 1: Part 5

[konietzko-sylvoran]

The Starcaller’s Dance

Daily Writing Challenge Day 16 -  Coy/Pain 10/5

The lights down and he silently stepped up, standing at the back of the stage when the lights went on. He knew what he was doing. The wireless mic was on that was clipped around his ear, and he fixed that glamorous smile and bedroom eyes on his face as the background music started. The first slow beat dropped, and he stepped out from the curtains, every stride perfectly measured and timed with the music, one foot in front of the other making his hips sway enticingly. 

He was laced up in wet look black corset leggings that laced up the side, revealing his skin all the way up to his upper thighs. What he was wearing underneath was obscured by the black satin jacket he had halfway zipped up, but the thick leather bondage collar was very noticeable, adorned in silver spikes that caught the light and reflected it beautifully. The ankle boots he wore had a stunning heel height, the backs also adorned in spikes. His starlight night sky skin glimmering in the light as the magical runes that lined his body head to toe illuminated himself perfectly adding to that mystical flare about him. 

At the perfect moment he stopped, center stage and in front of the pole, and he could feel the intensity of all the stares, all eyes on him. As the first perfect notes came from his mouth, his powers enticed the crowd, seeping out ever so slightly. That was how he worked his magic--he got their attention on his own, and then when he had them snared, he used his powers to pull them in, slowly more and more, bit by bit. 

Every movement was fluid, measured and precise, his flexibility and muscle control undeniably amazing. The roll of his hips in time with the melody of the song, and his understanding of body language made him an absolute treat to watch. 

He could smoothly lower himself to the floor, bending backwards with that perfect arching curve to his back without a single hitch; the dramatized heavy breaths were silent yet visible, and it wasn't hard at all to imagine that same body of his beneath your hands on a bed, breathing heavily and arching just like that, just like what he was doing on the stage. 

His aura was mesmerizing, and his voice was nothing short of entrancing. Smooth like cold milk chocolate, rich with the emotions of someone seducing the love of their life, in this case, his audience. He knew when to emphasize every part of his body, make every inch of himself seem perfectly alluring. He turned his back to the audience, on his knees on the stage as he slid the jacket off, giving the crowd the same lustful eyes.

The jacket was off, revealing the underbust corset underneath--he'd required assistance with it backstage, lacing it up tightly enough to make his waist an extra size smaller. Leather cuffs that had been hidden by the jacket sleeves were tight around his wrists, chains linking them to the corset that only allowed him so much movement--perfect for any audience member with a brain to imagine them screwing him with, to keep his hands out of the way, so he couldn't refuse a single thing they did to him. It was a pretty mental image, and his dance, the look in his eyes, the tone in his voice suggested he wanted every part of it as much as they did. 

As it progressed, he let out more and more of his power, audience members willingly becoming captivated by him on the stage. He looked beautiful under the lights, so much so in fact that one eager elf was already trying to get up on the stage. He noticed, sliding over to him and grabbing him by his tie, leaning in so close they might have kissed, before he pulled away, pushing the man back into his seat as he did so. 

He moved away from the front of the stage as he sang, every step deliberately letting the audience eyeball his ass in those tight leggings and heels, the backside of which had been partially obscured by his jacket in the beginning. He climbed the pole almost effortlessly and soundlessly; he was mindful of every part of his body--the chains keeping him from reaching his arms too high up, therefor he had to make use of the rest of his body to smoothly work his way up, holding himself up in some poses completely upside down with only his arms. He could do the splits, he could spin soundlessly using just his hands, he was an art. 

He left the crowd drooling in their seats when the song came to a close, and all he had taken off was his jacket. “You... won’t  be changing out of that I hope.” Konietzko shamelessly asked as Sivandris stepped past him backstage. He reached out to snag one of the chains still jingling from his wrist, yanking him back towards him a little as Sivandris winced in minor pain, all part of the act.  “Only as much as you let me. Though I was hopeful you might tie me back up.” The shameless Shal’dorei responded with a coy grin before racing off through the back past their security and the other dancers next in line cheering on their boss with various cat calls. He knew Kon wouldn’t resist chasing him after that... damn him.  @daily-writing-challenge ((Have a fun scene that took place at the Starcaller Lure - Maybe one day sooner than later this will be Kon with the right teachers.))

[its-naruto-universe]

My top 5 Anime for this winter 2020

The season was quite dire let’s be honest, but there were a few anime airing which are quite good and totally worth watching

1) Dorohedoro

Synopsis

Hole—a dark, decrepit, and disorderly district where the strong prey on the weak and death is an ordinary occurrence—is all but befitting of the name given to it. A realm separated from law and ethics, it is a testing ground to the magic users who dominate it. As a race occupying the highest rungs of their society, the magic users think of the denizens of Hole as no more than insects. Murdered, mutilated, and made experiments without a second thought, the powerless Hole dwellers litter the halls of Hole's hospital on a daily basis.

Possessing free access to and from the cesspool, and with little challenge to their authority, the magic users appear indomitable to most—aside for a few. Kaiman, more reptile than man, is one such individual. He hunts them on a heedless quest for answers with only a trusted pair of bayonets and his immunity to magic. Cursed by his appearance and tormented by nightmares, magic users are his only clue to restoring his life to normal. With his biggest obstacle being his stomach, his female companion Nikaidou, who runs the restaurant Hungry Bug, is his greatest ally.

Set in a gritty world of hellish design, Dorohedoro manages a healthy blend of comedy and lightheartedness with death and carnage. Taking plenty of twists and turns while following the lives of Hole's residents, it weaves a unique world of unearthly origin and dreary appearance not for the squeamish or easily disturbed.

[Written by MAL Rewrite]

Reasons to watch it

-Waifu(s) of the year, the type that can kick your ass and make you feel glad for it

-Great villains, you can’t really decide which side is right/wrong ,morally gray anime

-Really cool fighting scenes, animationin cgi done right (like houseki no kuni)

2) Id:Invaded

(Probably my favourite of the season)

Synopsis

The Mizuhanome System is a highly-advanced development that allows humans to enter one of the most intriguing places in existence—the mind of a criminal. Appearing as a bizarre mess of thoughts, an id well is the manifestation of a murderer's unconscious mind. Kura, a specialized police squad, is tasked with analyzing these complex psychological planes to track down the culprits. Brilliant detective Sakaido assists the police by investigating the id wells and piecing together the countless clues scattered within. However, there is a rule regarding those who enter the id wells: you are only permitted to dive into one if you have killed someone yourself. Such is the case for former detective Akihito Narihisago, Sakaido's real-world counterpart. Two years ago, his daughter was brutally murdered by a serial killer, driving Narihisago to seek his revenge. Despite finding himself on the other side of the law, Narihisago nevertheless continues to assist the police. While his detective skills continue to prove useful toward the investigations, Narihisago discovers he may not have everything figured out—especially regarding those he despises most, serial killers. [Written by MAL Rewrite] 

Reasons to watch it

-Badass middle age protagonist (aren’t they rare nowdays?)

-Quite intersting mystery which keeps you glued to the screen

-Surprisingly emotional as well (episode 10 sob)

3) Jibaku Shounen Hanako-kun

Synopsis

The famous "Seven Wonders" that every school seems to have are a staple of Japanese urban legends. One of the most well-known of these tales is that of Hanako-san: the ghost of a young girl who haunts the school's bathrooms. Kamome Academy has its own version of Hanako-san's legend. Rumors claim that if one successfully manages to summon Hanako-san, she will grant her summoner any wish. Lured by the gossip, many people have tried to call upon her, yet every attempt has failed. However, when Nene Yashiro, a girl hoping for romantic fortune, dares to summon Hanako-san, she discovers that the rumored "girl" is actually a boy! After a series of unfortunate events involving Nene's romantic desires, she is unwillingly entangled in the world of the supernatural, becoming Hanako-kun's assistant. Soon, she finds out about Hanako-kun's lesser-known duty: maintaining the fragile balance between mortals and apparitions.

 [Written by MAL Rewrite] 

Reasons to watch it

-Awesome concept / character design art

-Beatiful palette

-Interesting characters, expecially if you like the japanese folklore

4) Boku no Tonari ni Ankoku Hakaishin ga Imasu.

(You didn’t expect this one did you)

SynopsisSeri Koyuki is just trying to have a normal school life, but instead he ends up acting as the straight man to his odd classmate, Kabuto Hanadori. Kabuto is is a delusional high school student, whose fantasies range from believing he is a knight on a journey, to claiming that removing his eyepatch will release a darker alter-ego who he refers to as Michael Offenbarung Dunkelheit. Seri is determined not to let himself get pushed around by Kabuto, but it seems that this will be easier said than done! (Source: MU)

Reasons to watch it

-HILARIOUS, that’s all you need to know  

5) Ishuzoku Reviewers

(Neither did you expect this one in the list did ya?)

Synopsis

In our world, the human race constantly debates about several important issues, such as: which girl is the best girl? How good is something as fapping material? Which fetish is the sexiest? Accompany these great warriors as they present us with different girls, different opinions, different boners, and show us that the fantasy world may not be all that different from ours. 

Reasons to watch it

The anime sounds trashy af after that synopsis doesn’t it? But this is why you should’t judge a book by it’s cover:) The anime is done suprisingly well, It is never boring and the characters are entertaining as well. You might find some new fetishes as well Lmao

If you like this kind of posts please support me so that I can post even more :)

*Sequels are excluded from the list

More lists like this

[b4kuch1n]

Dark Bako give us your forbidden Leon/Raihan/Sonia Headcanons. I’ve loved your OG rival friendgroup since your original comic and I haven’t been able to get it out of my head since.

Hells Yeah thats the good food anon 

1/ sadly I am Not coherent or like. good with words yknow. so this will be laid out in the most chaotic manner; 2/ I dont really ship them romantically? so this will just be like. childhood friends stuff. they have a long history with each other I just love laying in it and feeling it for a moment here and there. I love them so much. and 3/ there are bullet points here that I’ve talked about before in the tags of my art posts or on my twitter. forgive me for being repetitive with them they’re all kinda from the same body of hcs yknow they go with each other like Leon, Raihan, and Sonia haha dyou see what I did there

- Sonia and Leon knew each other since birth basically, and they met Raihan when they started out on their adventure. they were all picked up by Mustard, Raihan has too different a style so Mustard kinda thinks of him as a smartass, Leon still calls him ‘uncle Mustard’, and Sonia still sends him things about swordfighting whenever she can

- oh yeah Sonia fences. she absolutely fences. c’mon she’s a history nerd of course she fences

- Leon used to dabble too but then he got kind of insanely busy? and couldn’t find the time to practice for a long stretch of time (nobody properly taught him how to manage his own time he had to learn by himself) so he’s not good at it anymore. if they fence one on one Sonia can kick his ass

- Raihan’s hitbox is too big so he sat that one out entirely. no thank you

- Leon is Big time a theatre kid. if he were any less into pokemon battling he would have absolutely grown up to be a shakespearean actor. he also just loves capes but that’s a him thing (and a trans thing) 

- he also knows enough sewing to fix his own clothes. Sonia wanted to sew too but her eyesight is bad enough that she couldn’t hand sew things so she didn’t pick it up as a kid. she has badgered Leon into customizing her accessories many times

- Raihan’s parents are professors, and his family is a foster family for foreign students, so he’s very good at dealing with kids, but like. in the fun brother way. as in kids fucking love him but do Not expect peace when he babysits

- which is funny because Raihan himself is chill. he’s done acting out now. he was one of those kids that are way too aware of their own youth? so he knew and acknowledged very intimately the kind of joy being chaotic and giving in to your dumbest desires brings, but he also knew since a too young age that you can’t really do that when you start having people depend on you. he fucking loved chaos when he was a baby trainer, and he wants the kids he knows to get to experience that kinda freedom too. so he will Not be the strict brother figure you need when you want an afternoon of peace. godspeed

- (he is also extremely a city kid as opposed to Leon and Sonia being children of the forest)

- this makes him and Leon a lethal combo because they push the exact button in each other to explode all inhibitions and make both of them idiots. Sonia was kind of astonished at the things Leon and Raihan did because Leon has Big Brother Syndrome but in the opposite way of Raihan’s, so in Sonia’s presence he will try to be doubly responsible. sure he was kind of an airhead when nothing’s strictly taking over his attention and he got Very in character for sandbox roleplaying, but he’s very disciplined in his own specific way and he tries very hard to take care of things. but somehow when left alone with Raihan they manage to tie down the top of a tree to the ground like one of those catapults and then almost caused an avalanche

- part of Sonia wanted to participate in the idiot fest, but. for a weirdly long while she didn’t really like Raihan? just because he was so confident and also seemed to always make the right decision. he seemed to know so well what was important and what wasn’t, and he stuck with it so damn well. and Sonia envied that. at the age of nine. life was complicated 

- he was horrified when Sonia tried to teach him how to swordfight tho, which is. uhh maybe a bit on Sonia too. she can’t recall very well 

- Raihan can

- also maybe Sonia envies Leon’s attention at Raihan just a bit because she was kind of alone in Postwick if she wasn’t hanging out with Leon, and she started battling because Leon’s excitement was contagious, and. yeah. again, life is hard when you’re nine

- Raihan’s nice to her tho. as long as she’s not holding a foil she’s just a kid and he’s good with kids. and she knows a lot about history! which is super cool and he osmosises a lot of trivias from her 

- she can suss out the origin of patterns on his clothes and can date the tapestries in the hall. again, super cool

- they’re so damn close by the time of their League that losing to Leon in front of an audience hits ten times as hard. 

- Raihan kind of coped by embracing the rival title with all his might. this kinda feeling fades with time, right? so roll with it for now. they were the same, it’s just the situation that changed.

- except the situation seemed to change Sonia too. she exploded at Leon after the match and then just. retreated to her room at the hotel. she was out of the city before they could have a word with each other. 

- she didn’t blame Leon or Raihan, but of course Leon kind of panicked, and turns out Raihan was just twelve too, so the best he could do then was to keep himself from freaking out as well by keeping some distance from Leon. he called Sonia to make sure she got home and hasn’t gotten herself in hot waters in the wild area somewhere. she didn’t pick up, but the next morning she texted to say she was with her gran and was being chewed out. 

- she called Leon one day before the champion match to wish him luck, and in a sense to let him and Raihan down gently (that’s what they found out that’s called much later, when it’s become mildly funny and not like the world was ending anymore). the actual transcript was just a lot of babbling that didn’t really explain anything, but then they also found out much later that she probably didn’t really know what she was doing either. turns out, y’know, life is extremely fucking hard when you’re ten, and your world is turned upside down, and you’re mad but also you’ve known for a while on some levels that it’d come to this, and you have no goddamn emotional management skills because you’re, yknow, ten, and your gran hasn’t been ten for six decades.

- so Sonia trained by herself for years after that first League, but she never became a challenger again. she also had to learn a lot of things by herself too. she moved in with her gran soon after the League as well, and in the off seasons when Leon could visit home she was never around.

- she still fences. that’s how she beats out the aimlessness for a long time

- Raihan doesn’t stop texting her, but he lives in Hammerlocke and he’s also busy, so they didn’t meet directly again until his match to win the Hammerlocke gym leader title. Sonia was extremely exasperated that he used Sandstorm in a vault full of precious artifacts. Raihan selfishly feels like that out-of-place aggression he’s been feeling can start leaving.

- Leon by that point has kind of settled into being a champion, as in he has stopped processing or projecting any kind of negative emotions, and by the way he greets Sonia it’d seem like nothing bad ever happened. Sonia and Raihan could take that; at least now they have allies in all of this. 

- they aren’t each others’ parents. they just try their best to grow up with each others again.

- Sonia also got that sweet, sweet networking with Raihan’s parents that she uses on the daily to get reading materials she needs

- Raihan is okay with this

[thor-tony]

Consider this: Thor/Tony high school pining idiots AU

The Avengers are in their senior year and part of student government which includes a senate committee. Their positions are as follows: Rhodey- Presiding Officer; Pepper - Treasurer; Bruce - Secretary; Sam - Senator of Discipline; Thor - of Athletics; Nat - of PR; Tony - of Student Life, Clint - of Service, Steve - of Academics)

The committee members are all good friends with each other but they also have their own close-knit group of friends outside of the committee that they moan to about their crushes

Thor and Steve are also in the football team (duh)

Tony likes to watch them practice after AP Physics and likes dragging Rhodey with him. He always claims that he’s just there to support Happy as well as his friends from student gov. Rhodey knows better and teases him and urges him to stop acting like some teenage girl in an anime watching senpai practices on the side hoping senpai would notice him. 

Tony doesn’t know if he should be concerned how Rhodey knows all those anime references or if he should be really doing some self-reflection. But as far as he’s concerned Thor and Val are an item, or at least have something going on. Val is a year below them, she’s highly competitive with Thor but they also have this tension between them which Tony thinks would be really hot if he wasn’t pining for Thor. And she’s going to be the Senator of Athletics next year for sure. The two are just so close and they’re always laughing and hugging and they’re so perfect and excuse Tony for a sec, he’s wallowing in his sorrow again.  

When Tony’s not feeling sorry for himself, he’s offering the football team based some strategic plays on his observations. The team of guys who are mostly 6′2″ all respect this tiny compact 5′9″ genius, and some would say adore, which is especially true for a certain linebacker with a thunderous laugh. Tony’s presence always motivates him to put in extra effort at practice. So maybe he’s a bit of a show off but he wants Tony’s attention. Tony’s smart, funny and attentive, and offered to get him greasy breakfast food and a hangover cure when Thor came to school after a wild house party one day. Thor’s never forgotten that act of kindness and care.

Then one day before practice, Steve, who’s also captain of the football team, runs up to Tony before practice begins, to express his thanks for Tony’s input and support as they'd won their game the night before, which was against their biggest rival Hydra High. Tony’s taken aback by the genuine gratitude being expressed towards him, and from Steve, of all people, who always challenges/disagrees with him during their senate meetings. He’s not used to this and he blushes from the praise.

School gossip circulates the next day on the Daily Bugle section of their school’s smartphone app. Everyone in the comments section is wondering if the Captain has captured The Tony Stark’s heart because someone has snapped a picture of that moment with the two yesterday. Tony doesn’t pay much attention to the rumours because he’s used to being the topic of people’s conversation -- it kind of comes with the price being a Stark -- and it will soon be yesterday’s news anyway. 

But now Thor is really bummed by the rumours, and it’s all making sense now why Tony watches their practice all the time. And it also explains the whole Tony and Steve glaring staring-at-each-other-until-someone-clears-their-throat thing at their meetings. And it doesn’t help overhearing what Tony’s been saying to Rhodey over lunch. (Yes he’s pathetic, as his brother has kindly reminded him, choosing a table so ‘causally and coincidentally’ next to Tony’s so he can be closer to him in hopes of getting a smile from him)

At the table a couple metres over, Tony’s been saying to Rhodey something about luscious blond locks and a golden smile that warms the whole galaxy, a spirit so vigorous yet gentle like the morning sun, and, “he’s so kindhearted and funny and those muscles !! Rhodey!! I’ll admit it’s shallow of me but it’s a work of art, I’m only human, and we all strive for beauty and art.” 

When Tony and Rhodey turn to leave, they notice Thor’s been sitting right next to them this whole time and oh shit, he’s not supposed to hear that oh no! He must think I’m shallow only lusting after him, and he’s gonna avoid me now congrats for blowing it Tony! Great!

Tony gives them a tight smile turns on his heels, and Thor is even sadder now. Not only has he lost Tony to the Captain, but now Tony’s mad at him for eavesdropping. Even Loki can’t tell who’s Tony is talking about and he wouldn’t be surprised if the rumours turn out to be true. He can only pat his brother’s slumped shoulder and offer him his ice cream as consolation.

Now in comes Steve, who may be a bit of a disaster when it comes to his own love life but he’s observant and he can tell when his friends are into each other. He knows about the rumours going on and he uses them to his advantage, teams up with Rhodey so they can work together to get their friends’ heads out of their asses and admit their crushes on each other. Thor and Tony are being dumb, okay, and the rest of their friends are really tired watching them blush and stammer at each other or moaning about each other at lunch when they can just be making out under the bleachers instead and their friends can finally eat in peace.

So Steve decides to rile Thor up a bit, play up the rumours and make them seem true. In the locker rooms before practice he’ll be singing Tony’s praises, saying, “Tony really had an incredible idea for our next charity event, don’t you think, Thor? He’s got such a great business sense. With Nat’s help I’m sure they’re going to get a lot of sponsors. He’s so great.”

Thor, through gritted teeth, says, “Yes, he’s wonderful. You know I think he’s amazing.”

Steve: “He sure is! We had lunch together today --”

“I noticed.”

“-- and he was so cute when he had trouble opening his jar of chia pudding -- apparently he’s trying to eat healthy at least once a week. Anyway, I got it open for him and he was really sweet. He went on and on about how much he’s appreciative of big muscles paired with shiny blond hair, and how he loves watching football practice because of the way our pants fit. Isn’t he the best? He’s outside now waiting for us to go out and start practice and man, I’m just so glad to provide him with a nice view when he’s sitting on those bleachers watching us.”

And if Thor had bothered parsing out those words, he’d realize that everything Steve had described was vague enough that he could totally be referring to himself and insinuating that he and Tony are an item (or close to being one) OR he could be talking about Thor and how Tony loves watching him.

But Thor’s seething, okay, he’s annoyed because Steve KNOWS how much he’d always liked Tony. He doesn’t need to rub it in like this. Thor’s frustrated af because hello???? He has all those qualities that Steve described too??? Why can’t Tony look at him instead of stupid perfect Steve???

Thor’s a dumbass.

A week later, Thor, Steve, Nat, and Rhodey are sitting at lunch together so they can discuss their group project for their environmental science class. Of course, things get off topic and Homecoming is brought up. Nat mentions she’s going to be sending out another email to the student body about nominations for Homecoming king and queen, and reminds the guys that they need to send Pepper daily updates on how many tickets they’ve sold. Steve nudges Rhodey a bit and nods at Thor, which prompts Rhodey to go, “You know, Tony’s been waiting for a certain blond football player to ask him to the dance. And if said football player doesn’t do so soon then Tony might think the worst of himself and wallow for the rest of the month. I’m probably gonna have to give up my homecoming plans to console him for that entire weekend. Bring him ice cream, watch Star Trek with him until he forgets about aforementioned football player.” He says that last part very, very pointedly.

Thor’s glaring at Steve when he hears this. He thinks, what the fuck dude? He’s your boyfriend and you haven’t even asked him to the dance yet? You don’t know how to appreciate him, ugh, I could do so much better.

At the same time, Steve turns to Thor, cheeky shit-eating smile on his face and says, “You heard him. When the hell are you going to get your act together and ask Tony out, huh? If you wait any longer someone else is going to snatch him off the market.”

And Thor’s so confused because wait, Steve isn’t dating Tony??? He wants to smack himself because what the FUCK, he’s an idiot. Tony likes him back and they could have been dating and sharing milkshakes and sitting together at lunch this whole time if Thor had just asked Tony out for a coffee in junior year when Tony offered him that hangover cure.

So Thor gets up, marches over to Tony’s table with half his lunch -- an uneaten cheeseburger (he ran out to Burger King and bought two that day -- he gets hungry, okay?) -- and the thermos of coffee he keeps in his bag and presents it to the school’s resident genius.

Tony, who’d been alternating between complaining to Pepper and Happy about not having a date to the dance and gazing longingly at Thor, is completely surprised by his crush’s sudden appearance by his side.

The blond cuts to the chase. “I know this isn’t the fanciest way to ask, but I didn’t want to waste any more time,” he tells Tony. He pushes the food over to Tony, knowing that he’s weak for junk food and caffeine, and, apparently, Thor. “Would you accept this greasy burger and unfortunately lukewarm coffee, and, perhaps, go to homecoming with me?”

Clint, who’d been watching and lazily shoving waffle fries in his mouth, goes, “fuckin’ finally, god.”

“Shut up, birdbrain,” Tony says without even looking at Clint, because he’s too busy staring at Thor with heart eyes and wow, is that a flush of red creeping up Thor’s neck? He’s adorable.

Of course, Tony says yes. And just for the record, that was the best way anyone has ever asked him out.