#also they would have damn competitions over who swears more

[5mcsinatrenchcoat]

Karlach and Sera are the "they put us in different universes because they knew we would be unstoppable as best friends" kinda characters, methinks

[howlett-n-morgan]

Take Me Home

3. Worthiness

Arthur Morgan x Texas Red!Reader

A/n: Apologies for taking so long in between to repost these chapters, it's almost fashion week and I am CRAMMING everything my ass can handle into the next few weeks lmaooo. pls enjoy and let me know what you think!

Summary: Abigail gains a new friend and gossip partner to chat with over meals, and Pearson has had enough of it. Luckily, Dutch has something lined up and ready to take the kid out of camp.

Warnings: Mild Language, gun violence. Game typical violence. Robbery/heist shenanigans. Fluff and Angst, because who doesn't love that combo? Arthur and reader get into a fight and want to kill each other for like a split second but it ends fine I swear.

WC: 6.1k

“I think I could drop you where you stand.” You were all talk, now, and he knew that… but it still boiled under his skin the way you challenged him.  “You make quite a big to do of yourself… M’guessin’ that’s where most of your reputation came from,” he smirked, but he should know better than to taunt you about those men you shot dead. “Before I got here I barely spoke a word to no one… I got my reputation from shootin’ folks so fast they didn’t have time to repent to God.” 

You’ve taken to a new hobby. You’re not quite sure the word that describes it right, but to explain what it entails, a bit of background needs to be added for understanding. 

Abigail is borderline nine months pregnant. 

John Marston, the everloving man that he is, has taken it upon himself to steer clear of her in the last stages of her pregnancy. 

Given this unfortunate situation, Abigail finds herself eating more and more food to try and relieve the stress. She also finds herself ranting to you about the dimwitted man that impregnated her, because you seem the most open to listening without offering advice. Truth be told, you just enjoy the company of a woman that doesn’t shy away from you, or try to woo you over. It brings about a sense of normalcy. 

Now, in the past weeks that this has been happening, you’ve taken to eating at the same times as Abigail, shoveling more and more into your plate like she does. It’s now become a ritual, or as you would like to call it, a hobby, to sit and devour food while shit-talking John Marston as he’s away. ‘Keeping his distance,’ whatever the hell that means, when the woman you’re with is nine months pregnant. 

In the midst of this new hobby, Dutch and Pearson have had many arguments. Dutch was always less than concerned about it, whilst Pearson nearly threw a fit every time either of you came to get portions for a meal.

“I’ve had enough of it. They come, they eat, they leave! That new boy of yours hasn’t done anything since he got here but eat us out of our stock,” Pearson complained for the hundredth time. Though you’d kept up with chores around the camp, (trying to help Abigail pick up some of her slack) you hadn’t really brought any money into the camp, which was what Dutch brought you here to do.

“Arthur’s been trainin’ him well, I’m sure it’ll be no time at all before he starts runnin’ jobs with us.” Dutch knew what this was really about…

Pearson was madder than a hornet when John first got Abigail pregnant. Even worse when he found out she would be traveling with the gang from then on. Feeding a pregnant woman was sometimes like feeding two extra men… not to mention the fact that you joined her at every meal. He doesn’t want to say anything about Abigail, especially in the state she’s in… but maybe if you didn’t sit and eat with her all the damn time, it wouldn’t be as bad, and the rations would last longer. 

“He better start earnin’ his keep. If he doesn’t I’ll skin him, make a stew.”

Dutch let out a boisterous laugh, clapping Pearson on the back and shaking his head. 

“I have a feeling he’ll probably bring in as much as Arthur… There’s some sort of competition between them. I think as long as they don’t rip each other to shreds, they’ll be real beneficial,” He started towards Hosea, passing by you and Abigail on the way and tipping his hat. “Top of the mornin’ to ya.”

“Mornin’,” you nodded with a smile, taking a sip of your coffee before digging back into the bread and jam you both raided from Pearson’s ‘kitchen.’

He ducked into his tent, and you turned back to Abigail, listening intently to all she had to say. Today, she had news of an argument between her and John the night before. 

“It’s been all, ‘how do I even know that kid is mine?’ and ‘what if I don’t want to be a part of it anymore?’ since about the five month mark. M’startin’ to think that maybe I should’ve just left the gang, convinced some poor drunk dope from the town it’s his.” She gave her best John impression when quoting him, and as funny as it was, all you could feel was grief for the young woman. She was too young to even be thinking this way. 

You’ve not spent any one on one time with John, but he sounds like a real ass.

“As sad as I am to say it, Miss Abigail… I believe most of us men are stupid as they come. We can’t tell what’s right in front of us, even if y’all are screamin’ and shoutin’.”

“If that ain’t the truth…” she trailed, sighing with her head down. Even though she portrayed her sorrows in a comedic light, you could tell it weighed on her. 

You weren’t sure if you should even offer this, because you had no idea if you would even be hiding your secret this long, but the longer you go without revealing anything… you’re starting to think of your little secret more permanently.

“If push comes to shove… You can tell the kid it’s mine. Not too sure it’ll believe you, what with the carrot head I got, but if you want to…”

She laughed lighthearted, and sighed again, but this time out of contentment. 

“I guess not all men are stupid. You’re not even the first one who’s offered that to me,” she explained, nodding towards the outskirts of camp where an open tent fixed upon a wagon sat neatly kept. “Arthur said the same thing when all these problems with John started.”

You smiled, looking at his empty living space, barely anything to show that he occupied the place. He had a simple cot and bedroll, a small table, and just a few sentimental pieces here and there. He didn’t need anything fancy or grandiose to his name, just a gun and his hat, and he was satisfied. He’s even kinder than you thought, too, hearing it firsthand from Abigail. A good man, and a great outlaw. You found yourself longing for him nearly every day now, and it would only get worse from here. 

“He’s sure something, ain’t he?” You tried to be nonchalant about him, and it seemed to work in the eyes of Abigail, but if she’d known just one little thing about you, her entire mind would be changed. 

“Oh, yes. I’ll be damn straight with ya, I almost wish it were Arthur I met last year. Wish it was him that found me at the brothel. I do love John, but… he breaks my heart sometimes,” she let out, trying to hold herself together. She’d long since begun crying herself to sleep at night, pretty much since John decided she could sleep on her own. Now, though, was not the place to break down. You’ve been kind enough to listen to her, and she feels as though using your shoulder to cry on would be taking advantage. So she changes the subject. “While I’m on the topic of love… I’ve heard you got an admirer.”

Your cheeks grew red from embarrassment, and she thought that maybe you were blushing, but she didn’t know how far off she was. “I guess I’ve heard a thing or two ‘bout that…”

“Tilly is a sweet girl, I’m sure you both would get along fine,” she added, going back to her food. 

“She’s one of the kindest souls I’ve met,” you told her, trying to be as honest as you could without divulging anything she didn’t need to know. “I’ve just never…”

“You’ve never… what?” 

You shrugged, huffing a sigh and eating the last piece of jam covered bread on your plate. Already you could tell you’d be hungry again soon. “Never been in a relationship like that before.”

“I see. Is that something you think you’d want?” Her patience is why you liked speaking with her. Sometimes she had a short temper, but it was almost always warranted and towards those who deserved it. 

You took her question to heart. You’d not even considered a relationship since the day you ran away. Your self-found freedom had been from an arranged marriage. It had been your choice to leave that way of life. You never thought you’d ever find love in the aftermath of your liberation, but thinking about it now… You looked to Arthur’s tent, just a single glance to see if he’s returned yet.

“I hope so, maybe someday when the time is right. I just think that right now, I’m not so sure about anything at all, and it wouldn’t be fair to Miss Tilly to start up something I ain’t ready for.”

She sat and stared into your downward expression for a minute, meeting your eyes when you looked up. 

You smirked a little at her gaping expression, trying to make light of it. 

“I got somethin’ on my face?” 

“No,” she shook her head, knocking herself out of whatever trance she just fell into. “S’just that… I think you’re mighty wise for someone your age. And for a man, too.” 

“I reckon that’s a real fine compliment, and I’ll take it well.”

You both shared a laugh before going back to the stashed food for seconds. 

-

Dutch had an idea… a dangerous thing, but sometimes a very lucrative one. 

The worst part about this dangerous and lucrative idea? Arthur, Javier, John, and Bill were on board. It meant there was gonna be one hell of a party this afternoon, and no one in their right mind would have the courage to stop it. 

You were unaware of said idea until around lunch time, when Pearson just ripped you a new one for taking food before it was even ready. You shared it with Abigail of course, you’re not an animal.

Dutch and Hosea were making the plans for this afternoon, and came across you both sulking in the grass, just inches away from Pearson’s space. They grabbed some small provisions for themselves, as they hadn’t quite eaten much today, and you overheard some of their chatter. 

“I’m getting too old for all that excitement. One job here and there is all I can do anymore,” Hosea tried to reason with his dearest friend. 

“I need another gun or it doesn’t work,” Dutch sighed out, scratching the back of his neck as he thought of another solution. 

You stood up and peeked over the barrel you’d been resting against, leaning over it and making your presence known. 

“I got a gun,” you smirked, halfway joking incase he shuts you down. He hasn’t told you directly that he doesn’t want you riding with them yet, but he has asked Arthur if he thinks you’re ready… to which Arthur always replied, ‘almost.’ 

Dutch narrowed his eyes at you, looking back to Hosea, but the man held his hands up in mock defense. He was gonna sit this one out regardless.

“How’s your horse with gunfire?” he asked, genuinely considering your offer today. 

“He oughta be fine, otherwise I can take someone else’s.”

There was another moment of pause, and Hosea spoke up. 

“Sean would be happy to go, he hasn’t seen action in a few weeks.” 

You sighed, doing your best to act as if you weren’t upset, then started to speak loudly.

“That’s fine by me. I’ll just stay here and have lunch with Abigail…” you trailed, and immediately Pearson whipped himself around from his station. 

“No!” He shouted, and though you were partially joking, he didn’t want to find that out for himself. He’d had enough of you, and likely of Abigail, too. “As God is my witness, I will pack my shit and never look back… take him, I’m beggin’ ya.”

Dutch found his little outburst quite comical, as did you. He chuckled lowly and rolled it over in his head once more before deciding. Maybe what you really needed to learn was being thrown in the deep end. Hell, he knew what you were capable of. It was the very reason you stood on this ground in the first place. Now he needed to put those fiery trigger fingers to the test. 

“Son,” he turned back to face you with a look of sheer confidence, hopefully this didn’t mean the pressure would all be on you. “Saddle your horse, load up on ammo. You’ll be going with John.”

The smile you had immediately left your face. 

“Yessir,” you said quickly, leaving the group to do as he said. 

John Marston, the man you’d been shit talking for over a week now. Not to his face, of course, but to his lady it was enough, even if she was doing just as much if not more in sullying his name. 

You had a bad taste for him, that much you could say. It wasn’t going to be fun, but you’d prevail. You had to. It was time to start earning your keep. 

You found the rest of the men by the hitching posts, strolling up as confidently as can be. You enjoyed the baffled looks of confusion they wore, unsure of what you were doing here. Surely you wouldn’t be joining them…

“Howdy,” you teased, tipping your hat to them with a sideways smirk. Your young looking ‘boyish’ features gave them an inkling of annoyance with the look you wore, all cocky and arrogant for show. “Give me just a second, I’ll be ready to head out.”

“You’re coming with us?” Bill questioned, though it wasn’t out of sheer curiosity, but agitation.

“Damn straight,” you muttered quieter, done joking for now since they all seemed to be absolutely against you riding along. You got along with them in camp, why did they seem to exclude you now that a job was concerned? Why did they look like they were about to fight tooth and nail to keep you here?

You ignored their sarcastic chatter over your ‘scrawny’ appearance, and made ready your horse. You’d taken him riding several times since getting here, but he hasn’t gotten to see much action other than running down the side of the river bank. 

“What the hell are you doin’?” Arthur came up beside you, trying to gain your primary focus and lead it away from the horse… not exactly a hard task when you look like Arthur Morgan does.

“Dutch said I’m ridin’ on the job,” you explained, making it very clear, first and foremost, that you had permission to go out with them from the boss.

“When? Just now? Because as it was told to us, you weren’t goin’...” 

“I get y’all don’t exactly want me here, but he needed another gun. I happen to have one, matter of fact, and I’m pretty damn good at shootin’ it. I don’t understand your hissy fit, but it ain’t gonna stop me from goin’, so I hope we’re not gonna have a problem, here.” 

He kept his mouth shut. He needed to think and rehash his words in his head before he let something fly that he didn’t at all mean. 

“I’m tryin’ to protect you, kid.” He was even closer than before all of a sudden, and you had to make him the center of your attention once again.

“Protect me from what? I shoot faster than you, remember?”

You made a point, but he made a better one. 

“You mean ‘the one shot you know how to take?’ Is that the one?” He recalled your words from many days before, the day he began teaching you everything you needed to know. You’d been here nearly a month now, if you hadn’t learned enough already, you never would.

“Look, Arthur,” you turned away from him using all the strength you had, because dammit, you did enjoy looking at him. “I know you don’t think this is ideal, but it’s not your call to make. Take it up with Dutch.”

You strapped a rifle to your horse and grabbed its reins from the hitching post, leading the dark, glossy stallion over by where the boys were finishing up. 

“Marston,” you called, all traces of light hearted fun were gone from your tone, completely dulled and sullen from the loss of excitement. “I’m with you.”

-

Arthur rode with Dutch nearly the whole time.

You were on the caboose end of the cavalcade, and watched them talk up ahead. There was no doubt in your mind it concerned you, because that’s why Arthur is so high strung, so angry about this job. 

Javier gave you the run-down on the first few minutes of the ride. It’s a quick job, and shouldn’t get drawn any attention from the neighboring towns. Essentially, there’s a procession of carriages coming from the north and heading south east, and most of the folk traveling are fairly wealthy. The kicker is, all the valuables from each person are said to be stowed on a ‘safe cart’ in the middle of the procession. You’re not sure how they figure that, but you know Dutch has incredible sources. Using the team assembled, you’ll all have to separate the safe cart from the rest of the caravan, leading it off the trail and far enough away that it can be easily raided with no repercussions. The only downside? The safe cart is heavily guarded by several armed men and is manned by experienced drivers. 

Once Javier started getting into the logistics and details of the job, you zoned out, focusing on the conversation happening with Arthur and Dutch up ahead. You had no clue what they were saying, but the body language and facial expressions said a lot. 

Arthur likely expressed his concerns to Dutch, and thereafter, was told he need not be concerned… But Arthur was a persistent animal, he didn’t just dip his head and turn away. 

You think that Arthur may have listed a few points for Dutch to consider, and that the man did so, with the fact in the forefront of his mind that you were still on the job. 

By the time everyone reached the lookout, the two of them circled around to face the rest. 

“There’s been a change of plan,” Dutch called out, looking over every face and the horse they accommodated, and they lasted longer on you than the others. “John, you’re taking the frontside of the caravan with Javier.”

And just like that, you’d been replaced. 

“Where am I goin’ then?” You tilted your head in confusion.

“You’re with me, Red,” Arthur let out, his tone not nearly as angry as earlier. Now you gotta know what happened during that talk with Dutch.

“Yes, you and Arthur will bring up the back, makin’ sure there’s no surprises.”

You weren’t sure what to feel. Was he trying to keep you where he could see you? Did he think of himself as your babysitter? Why would he put up all that fuss just to give in as long as you rode with him?

“Alright,” you sighed out, acknowledging that bringing up the rear of the operation was still better than not coming at all. 

The rest of the plan stayed the same, and soon, everyone split off with their respective partners for this heist. 

You rode off with Arthur in silence to the waiting point, not daring to say anything until you’d been sure nobody was around to hear it. You weren’t going to rip into him about this, but you had questions. He clearly was concerned over your wellbeing if he fought so hard to make sure you wouldn’t be riding in, guns blazing, on your first job. You were just going to cover the rear, a measure of security. 

When you stopped just short of the trail, you hitched your horses, taking cover behind some bushes and trees to lay low. You turned to Arthur with a huff. 

“What the hell was that?” 

He was taken aback, but not jumpy about your outburst.

“Don’t start with this again, kid. I’m tryin’ to help you,” he crossed his arms, leaning against the tree and watching the road. It was still too early for the caravan, but he didn’t want to meet your eyeline.

“You ain’t helpin’ me, you’re holdin’ me back,” you grumbled, stepping on a small gathering of dead leaves, becoming even more enraged - for no good reason - when they didn’t crunch beneath your boot. 

“You’ll thank me one day…” he trailed, lighting a cigarette from within his pocket. You would have decked him in the face if you thought it would help. 

At first you’d been grateful to him, for seeing you no differently than the others, and even showing you the ropes to become better equipped. Now you could see it was all a ruse. He underestimated you and kept telling Dutch you weren’t ready. He kept ‘training’ you to keep you busy. You weren’t falling for that shtick again. You didn’t care how pretty his eyes were, anymore. 

“Where do you get off, Morgan? The shit you’ve been putting me through these past weeks…” you scoffed, finding it amusing almost just how unbothered he seemed to be. Maybe he really was just as mean as the town’s folk say. “I’ve been able to match or best you at everything you’ve thrown at me. Maybe I should just take you out of my way.” 

He chuckled, standing upright and creeping towards you with slow steps. His eyes narrowed, and for once, you felt you knew what it was like to be prey. 

“You wanna give it a try?” he taunted, towering over you with a threatening stare. Just seeing how intimidating he could really be, you wanted to back off. Of course, you didn’t. “You really think you could take me?” 

His voice was all too quiet, all too calm. The words he spoke held such heaviness, but it didn’t show in his tone. He was teasing you, and if you gave in, he’d likely give you a humbling. You knew he’d been eyeing your hand, as if hovered closely to your gun belt… so you dropped it to your side to defuse him a little. 

“I think I could drop you where you stand.”

You were all talk, now, and he knew that… but it still boiled under his skin the way you challenged him. 

“You make quite a big to do of yourself… M’guessin’ that’s where most of your reputation came from,” he smirked, but he should know better than to taunt you about those men you shot dead.

“Before I got here I barely spoke a word to no one… I got my reputation from shootin’ folks so fast they didn’t have time to repent to God.” 

Your dead eye stare caught him. He didn’t back down, didn’t waver… he was so staunchly preserved in his way of life that he didn’t even let it show in his eyes just how much you got to him with that line.

“Your twenty-one notches ain’t shit to me.” He’s sure that by now he’s killed hundreds, maybe thousands. Sure, most he shot in the back, but the number in which he didn’t still far surpasses your miniscule little twenty-one. 

“Then let’s make it twenty-two, yeah?” You didn’t plan on shooting it, but you drew your pistol faster than he could think, trying to put it against his chest to scare him, but his reaction time was faster than you had initially thought. He grabbed the gun from your hand before it ever neared him, and threw it into the grass behind him before shoving you down.  

“Damnit, Red! You have no clue, do you?” He stood over you angrily, looking at your frozen figure like you were an animal he was hunting. “You got a gift that none of us have. Hell, I’ve been doin’ this for sixteen years and I still ain’t as fast as you. You could be the best of us, but you’re too damn stubborn, and too damn arrogant. You’re never gonna get anywhere if you’re dead.”

You stood to your feet, staring at him silently. You didn’t have anything to say to him, and honestly, you weren’t sure what would even be okay at this point. He was still angry, but his arms were no longer tense, and he wasn’t seething through harsh breaths anymore. You turned away from him and walked to your horse, sitting back down by the base of a tree and tipping your hat over your eyes. This was going to be a long day.

-

It was approaching sundown when the caravan actually arrived. You’d been napping when Dutch and Bill first gave the signal. Arthur had been watching for it the entire time, and scoffed when he turned his head to you, finding you still fast asleep as if you had nothing to worry about. 

He took a few steps over towards your resting place, kicking your boot and startling you out of your peaceful slumber. 

“What?” you asked, annoyed. Your hat was still over your eyes, so he couldn’t see how dazed you actually were. 

“Sorry, miss… didn’t mean to disturb you,” he teased, his mood having cooled off since the hours after the fight you had. “Just thought you should be conscious during your first job.”

You huffed and stood to your feet, fixing your hat and making sure you hadn’t left anything on the ground. 

Arthur went back to the lookout position and watched through his binoculars for any signs that it was about to go down… you still weren’t one hundred percent clear on the plan, so you thought you might try and annoy him a little by reiterating it.

“So… Dutch and Bill are gonna close in on the sides, leadin’ the safe carriage away from the rest, and that’s when Javier and John stop it from the front. I got that right?” 

“You got it right,” he droned on mindlessly, trying his best to pay more attention to the small flaming signal in the distance. It’s getting closer, but until they put the fire out, there’s no need to mount your horses. 

“Then it‘s a four man job, they don’t even need us.”

“I s’pose you never heard the term ‘backup’ then, have you?” He snickered, still not even giving a glance in your direction. He was firm as stone in his resolve, and you figured it would be no use trying to entertain yourself further. 

“Didn’t take you as the ‘backup’ type…” you grumbled under your breath, mumbling some other incoherencies that he didn’t get a chance to hear. He was almost sure he saw Bill creeping over to the torch, and became positive when the light went dark. 

“Get on your horse,” he became quieter, more focused. You instantly figured it out that he was the type to zone in on his jobs, and maybe you could learn from it. If you really wanted to be his equal, you needed to learn to meet or best him in everything he thrives at. 

“You get the signal?” 

He nodded, “they’re coming down the trail, we gotta be ready to chase em’ when they come through.”

You both pulled up onto your saddles, holding the horse’s from moving too much. If your position was given away, they might derail the caravan from the trail. You reckon this many rich folk traveling in a pack oughta know someone’s gonna be stupid enough to steal from them. It’s why they have a safe carriage in the first place. 

Within a moment, you can see the caravan coming over the hill. It’s dimly lit as the sun lowers completely behind the mountains, small lanterns clinging to every vehicle on the trail. You look up to the ridge that Arthur had been scoping out all this time, and you see Dutch and Bill riding downwards in a rapid attempt to split the caravan. That’s when you spot it… the stone cold metal wagon, weighing probably more than all the horses in camp combined, and armed to the brim with men on every corner. They carry heavy repeaters, their heads on a swivel. They haven’t seen Dutch or Bill yet, but as they round the corner, they all raise their weapons, just for the sound of horse hooves. 

“Cover ‘em,” Arthur told you, grabbing his rifle off his horse’s saddle. You did the same, not hesitant to start shooting at the men in the distance. You had relatively good cover, and couldn’t really be seen, but upon seeing so much fire come from your side of the trail, they began offroading towards Dutch and Bill. 

“Do we go?” you asked, switching to your pistol as you prepared to let your horse run. 

“Not yet,” he held his hand for you to watch, leaning sideways to see around another tree. He had to make sure the rest of the caravan wasn’t following the safe cart. When he saw that most of them stopped in place, he flicked his wrist, pointing in the direction you needed to go. “Now.”

You rode quickly and out onto the trail, passing the other carriages. You could vaguely hear women crying and men yelling. They ain’t gotta be afraid for their lives, so long as they stay put. 

It wasn’t hard to catch up to the gang, as they had taken the remaining guards off on the way to stopping the carriage. There was one rogue horseman that Arthur turned and shot before he could get too close to the area, but other than that, they were able to get the damn thing stationary enough to rob. 

“John, hold him off,” Dutch commanded, watching the younger man hold his gun to the carriage driver’s skull. The man cried out for mercy, not knowing that Dutch would spare his life regardless. He was unarmed, and wasn’t standing in their way, so obviously they would let him go. The Van Der Linde’s did have a code, after all. “Arthur, you open the back.”

And so he put his gun away and strolled up to the back of the wagon with his head held high, happy this robbery went according to plan… until of course, he opened the back, and was unprepared for a heavily armed man to aim right for his chest and pull the trigger. Two guns sounded at almost the same time, but yours sounded first, and it was just quick enough to skew the aim of the dead man, and he landed a non-fatal blow to Arthur’s shoulder. Both men collapsed, but one was still alive. Twenty-Two…

“Arthur! You alright, son?” Dutch yelled, running over to check on him. You’d already knelt down by where he had fallen back to, trying to sit up, but failing because of the pain. You immediately put pressure on his wound, trying to stop the bleeding on your own accord. You ripped the bandana from your neck and tried tying it up, but it was just barely long enough to go around his entire shoulder and underarm. 

“M’fine, s’just a minor shot, it went through.”

“Brooks, you oughta take him back to camp, see if any of the girls know how to patch him up,” he gave you direct orders, and you nodded, helping a moaning and groaning Arthur to his feet. 

“How’d we make out?” Arthur asked, looking into the open wagon, where Bill and Javier seemed to be rolling in money.

“Pretty damn good,” Dutch replied, giving a pat to your shoulder, since Arthur’s is in disarray. “And Brooks?” 

You looked over your shoulder at him, a hopeful look on your face, longing for the approval of someone besides yourself for once. “Yeah?”

“You did good.”

And there it was, the signed seal of approval from none other than Dutch Van Der Linde himself. 

You and Arthur remained pretty silent on the ride back to camp, mostly because he was in a shocking amount of pain and distress, but he did his best to hold it in.

You hitched and unsaddled his horse for him, doing the same with yours before following him into camp. He made way for one of the ladies, maybe Abigail if Jack was asleep already, or Karen if she wasn’t busy workin’ some of the town men. 

“Hey,” you recognized what he was doing, so you pulled him by the opposite arm in the direction of his tent. “I’ll do it.”

His living area was just wide open space in the trees, unlike yours, however, he got quite a bit more elbow room than you did. Perks of seniority

“You don’t have to-”

“I’m tryna apologize, you should let me.”

He laughed a little, a soft smile on his lips.

“What’re you apologizing for?” He asked, sitting down into his cot as you rummaged through the supplies he had on hand. Maybe not the best stuff around, but to stitch him up and wrap it after, it was fine. He’d survive. 

“Bein’ an ass, and taunting you when I know you could snap my neck in one hand.” You were flat in your tone, too focused on threading a needle to put any effort behind your words. 

“I’d never,” he said, laughing a little. He seemed to be in a cheerful mood for just having been shot. 

“You might,” you tied the thread off and bit the end to break it from the spool. Very hygienic, you know, but you didn’t find a pair of scissors. “You’ve only just barely reached the surface for just how obnoxious I can be.”

“Oh have I now?” 

“Mhm…”

You pulled at his shirt collar, opening just a few more buttons until it could pull back over his arm. He didn’t stop you, or even wince, just sat back and waited for the sting of a needle.

“This ain’t gonna tickle,” you braced him, but as soon as you started digging into his skin, making the actual stitches, he was surprised. You were pretty good at this… the reasoning behind it was probably just another one of your many secrets, he’s sure.

“S’not so bad, actually. You do this a lot?” 

“Not anymore… but I was a little rich girl, remember? Did embroidery and needlepoint since I was a little kid. I kind of miss it, actually.” 

“A gunslinger misses doin’ needlepoint?” he chuckled, feeling the hole in his skin being patched back together. Now you just gotta do the other side. 

“Well sure,” you furrowed your brows, leaning forward to bite the thread again and pull his body so you could see the exit wound. “I used to sit on the porch of my house and do it with my mama.”

He felt sorrowful all of a sudden. “Were you uh… close with your mother?”

You nodded, not speaking in fears you’d tear up, or your voice would crack. The way you both were sitting, he couldn’t see the direct look on your face, but he understood it was probably a sensitive subject. 

Oh to think, what a life you may have led if you were not born a girl. You missed your mother, and your old friends from school. You missed being able to do needlepoint, and other more feminine activities. 

“You know what I hate most about this life?” you uttered, your voice shallow, but you didn’t seem to care all that much anymore. He seemed to take a genuine interest in your problems, and your personal feelings. It was more than you could say about most men. “I haven’t worn a dress in four years… and I really love dresses.”

This wasn’t the meltdown you saw yourself having in front of Arthur, but he didn’t mind it. He placed his opposite hand on your shoulder as you bit off the last thread to seal his wounds. 

“How about this… someday, when you’ve told everyone that you’re- y’know…” he trailed, nodding his head around for emphasis. “I’ll buy you a dress in town. Whichever one you want.”

You couldn’t help but smile. In the span of one day, you’d gone through nearly every emotion you possibly could with this man, but in the end, your resolve had again been weakened, and you found yourself falling into his crystal eyes once more. 

“Thank you, Arthur… You’re a kind man, you know?” 

He shook his head. “Not so kind to most.”

You knew not to argue with him, as you were learning, he was very self deprecating, and there was no changing his mind. You took a leap, unsure of what might come of it, but you wanted to show your gratuity some other way. 

You quickly leaned forward, kissing his cheek ever so softly, almost as if it didn’t even happen. When you sat back, his eyes were a bit wider, and his brows were raised. He seemed to be frozen in surprise, and words failed him. You didn’t want him to possibly find words that could hurt, so you stood up to leave, calling after him whilst walking away. 

“Goodnight, Arthur.”

And that would have been good enough, but your heart skipped a beat when your sentiment was returned. 

“Night, Red.”

Tags: @photo1030 @sheepdogchick @snoopysshark @strvberrydoll

[heaven-s-black-box]

Notes- Public Eye Lyney x performer!gn!reader

Return to File

Recovery date: October 20th, 2024

Description: haha i totally agree that lyney and y/n would be the stars of fontaine lol ^^ so uh do u think u could write lyney x reader in the last au? just generic relationship headcanons please!!

-⭐️ anon

Notes: This work was recovered in conjunction with researcher ⭐️, we thank them for their contributions. uh... this got kind of angsty? But it's also fluffy! I Swear! Also, kind of pushing my theory about how Genshin will end.

Back to directory

He hears about you, of course he does

As an entertainer it’s his job to keep up with the industry, both for trends and competition

But you do music, so he’s not super concerned

But family, he’ll keep up with anything for the sake of his family

So when the younger kids want to catch one of your shows, he’s quick to approve

Then he finds out when it ends and he’s not sending a gaggle of barely 10 year olds to the Opera Epiclesis alone

Honestly he says it’s for there safety, doesn’t want them coming back in the dark alone, but really it’s more for the citizens’ sake

Treats them to some front row seats, he’s heard your shows can be a bit interactive

And he’s surprised when they arrive to find the floor packed, no one is sitting and there are more people than chairs

He now understood the rumors of a new, outdoor, stage being built

Loves the showmanship of your performance, it’s a lot like his work and less like the traditional operas of Fontain

He thinks there’s a moment during your performance where you lock eyes and wink at him

The absurd lighting hides his blush, something he’s grateful for

Is this what people feel like when he flirts with them, because he’s pretty sure you could sweep him off his feet and he’d thank you

Nothing comes of this meeting, but when the new stage opens and he’s asked to be its opening performance, he thinks back to you

Decides to ask you to open his show and join him as a special guest

You are ecstatic, you’ve been waiting for that damn stage and you’ll get to be its first performer by opening for Lyney

So you meet up, and write a new song just for his show

Then comes the choreography, and Lyney need some stuff set up right from the start so you incorporate it

The show ends with you making him appear from one of his set ups, and he takes you to reveal Lynette, and then Freminette appears in a water tank

You spend a lot of time rehearsing everything, from your dance number to his show

Even Lynette talks with you during breaks, you end up bonding over tea

Lyney doesn’t realize he’s in love, not for awhile, he’s so used to putting on an act

It’s only Lynette who notices he’s really in love

The subtle things he does, gently placing a hand on your back or arm just because he can, the way he isn’t so secretive about his tricks, among other things

Then there’s the tells like the little twinkle in his eyes when he looks at you, how he just barely stumbles over his words or hesitates

Freminet notices too, but he’s not going to say anything

But with project stuzha looming over them, Lynette won’t tell her brother that she knows

He knows he’s not acting when he starts losing sleep over you, when part of his drive to complete project stuzha is to protect you

Your relationship kind of becomes this unspoken thing, you’re Fontain’s favorite couple but… you aren’t really together

He goes to all of your shows and you go to all of his, he helps you with effects and you put him in touch with your instrumentalist

You have dinner with his family and he has dinner at your place

He drapes a blanket over you when you fall asleep, and brushes the hair from your face to hold back from kissing your forehead

His kisses to the back of your hand are passed off as playful but, he’s stopped doing it for anyone else

But especially since you’re in the public eye already, he can’t put you in that kind of danger

So when the dust finally settles, and Celestia has fallen, when there’s no more danger

He’ll be there, at your front door, with the biggest bouquet of rainbow roses you’ve ever seen and three little words

I love you

The next day you and Lyney are front page of the Steambird “Fontain’s Sweethearts are official”

You still don’t perform together very much, it takes so much effort that it’s only for really special occasions like new years

Or celebrating the fall of Celestia, but only after he recovered

Dates are often very private affairs, with you two slipping out of the city of hiding in your house

Loves to cook with you, it’s so domestic that his heart flutters more than usual

Surprises you at practice, sometimes with lunch and sometimes to walk you home

In turn you’ve surprised him by having Lynette let you in to his workshop so you can hide in one of the many secret compartments

Your relationship is very playful and supportive

I imagine after the fall of Celestia the Fatui kind of disband of shift gears, so Lyney has more time for magic and you

Because of this, Arlechino is quick to accept you

She’s also secretly a fan of your music, but if you tell anyone she will kill you

The Steambird is very respectful about covering your relationship, Charlotte makes sure of it, but other tabloids can be annoying

It doesn’t help that the Steambird naturally gets all the good stuff because you’re close with Charlotte, she makes sure to ask before submitting articles though

But these tabloids seem to forget that Lyney is/was a member of the Fatui, directly under a harbinger and her chosen successor at that

He doesn’t kill the nosy journalists, but they’ll certainly learn to keep their nose out of your lives

[sourbinnie]

☆ silent ☆

♡ genre ¿? ♡ -> angst ; hurt/comfort ♡ pair ¿? ♡ -> hyung line!ateez x gn!reader ♡ plot ¿? ♡ -> malicious comments weren't gonna go unnoticed by your boyfriend even if he couldn't do anything about it. ♡ warnings ¿? ♡ -> swearing ♡ request ¿? ♡ -> yes!

-> the request | maknae line

a/n: i hope i understood this request correctly ajkshf hope you enjoy it and maknae line will be out whenever i'm free since you asked for ot8.

-> the scenario

you didn't wanna attend at first but something about seeing your old friends made you give in. being there with your boyfriend also brought comfort to you and eased your nerves. anxiety couldn't help but kick in when you thought about seeing some of your old classmates and how they were doing right now. you've seen pictures all over instagram of them living their best lives and you were stuck in your job and trying your best to handle money wisely. your boyfriend didn't mind and your family was happy that you were where you were, so why did you have to doubt yourself?

well it was easy when you were surrounded with rich folks who didn't know anything but money and luxury. even after experiencing some of the stuff your boyfriend was used to, you couldn't get used to it but right now? yeah it was definitely too much and too show off for your liking. speaking of your boyfriend, he was there surrounded by people wanting to take photos with him, asking for autographs and wondering why he was here but nobody would kick him out because idols were sacred to them. you were thankful he would be supporting and cheering you on from a distance. 

well if you knew what was coming, you would've never brought him along.

"didn't know this was a reunion for the lowest of low." one of your old classmates said laughing and looked at you up & down. he was scanning you with his stare and it made you feel so small but you tried to think nothing of it yet you knew exactly what was happening.

"yeah same man, i thought this was gonna be an exclusive thing. good to see you though (y/n)!" another one exclaimed as she laughed. what did they expect from a high school reunion? to invite only the privileged old students? well maybe it would've been a better idea. 

"yeah good to see you." you said in a small voice, wanting nothing more than to leave with how you were being perceived. there was no doubt that your boyfriend was looking at you right at this moment. you wanted to leave, you were going to leave at any moment.

"hope you get a better job soon sweetie. since that dress/suit ain't looking too good." one added and you excused yourself as you left the scene. the tears threatening to spill at any moment as you tried to make sense of a direction to go to, far away from them.

seonghwa ✉

as he watched the scene unfold, seonghwa felt helpless. he wanted nothing more than to shut these assholes up with a comment but he had to keep his image as professional and civilized as possible. for a moment he just wanted to be your boyfriend, a regular attendee that participated in this event and was able to defend his significant other. 

but right now he was an idol who, as discreetly as possible, looked for you everywhere. he couldn't find a single trace of you so he decided to head out for a second, hoping no one would notice him and to take a breath. looks like you were doing the same as you tried covering yourself up with your coat so no one could see what you were wearing. broke his heart to a million pieces with that simple action.

"don't do that." he simply said and you sighed. he didn't know what he was gonna say to make things better but he knew that you knew he was gonna try his hardest. "please don't listen to them. it's not a competition to see who has the best job."

"well even if it was, i would be the loser. it's fine hwa i just need some time and you know we can't be seen together." you said but he just shook his head as he looked at you. he wasn't a good boyfriend for just standing there but he would damn prove your worth.

"we can leave if you want to. it's so unfair that this happened when you were excited to see your friends but i hope you can see them another time." you nodded at his words and took his hand. leaving the place to never look back and hoping you never cross paths with these people again. "they're such idiots for saying that to you but you're better than they will ever be." he muttered and his grip on your hand tightened 'cause he truly did mean it.

hongjoong ✉

he was frozen as he heard the words being said. he sighed to himself as he wanted to see you and be there for you so much but he knew as the leader, he had to keep an image and it hurt him. in another world he would be telling these idiots to back off and to look at themselves before they judge someone else. especially if that someone was the most respectful and attentive person he's ever met because oh god, you did not deserve that at all.

he found you when the whole event ended and took you home. the silence was deafening as you tried your best to act like you were okay but the mask was falling off when you arrived to your shared apartment. he knew he couldn't leave you alone tonight.

"(y/n) talk to me babe. i know i should've said something and i'm regretting everything right now." he said as he looked at you with pleading eyes. you could never lie to hongjoong even if you tried to and right now you felt like breaking down completely so you let go.

"i just wish i was enough sometimes. not only my job but my appearance and just how i am, why couldn't i just defend myself?" you asked and hongjoong couldn't help but feel the worst he's ever felt. just the way you were putting yourself down because of them, it's enough to drive him insanely mad.

"no. you are enough, more than enough and i'm sorry i didn't say anything. if i could go back and change what happened, i would do it in a heartbeat." he said as he hugged you and held you in his arms. "no matter what job you have or what you wear, you'll always be the person with the biggest heart that i know and that's what matters." he muttered and that was enough to bring tears from your eyes.

yunho ✉

he would feel so bad, like it would shatter him to see you fighting back the tears and the humiliation you went through. he would want to stand up for you, not even as a boyfriend but as a human being. yet his feet remained glued to the ground because he couldn't risk putting the boys into trouble and as much as he loved his brothers, he felt so weird putting his significant other last.

a few minutes later, he got out of the shock and walked away from the reunion. he needed to find you and he didn't care about anything else, even if it caused him to be a little careless about it. when he did indeed set your eyes on you as you were outside, he looked around but then decided to stop being a coward and approached you.

"love, are you okay?" he whispered and he almost facepalmed himself for still trying to be undercover. like he was your boyfriend, he hated himself for caring so much about his image and not enough about you. "i'm sorry. i just fucked up didn't i?"

"yunho no, you didn't do anything. i understand that you couldn't really say anything but then again there was nothing to be said." you shrugged as you tried to enter again but he grabbed your wrist before you could walk away.

"i won't fail you again. please don't listen to them okay? none of it is true." he said and you nodded as much as you wanna believe him, it was hard. it just hit you really hard that you were judged that way but you knew your boyfriend was there and that brought some relief. "by the way, you look gorgeous tonight." 

yeosang ✉

oh boy he would be so mad. he encouraged you to go but at the same time he was scared because he knew what kind of people your classmates were and looked at what happened. the fact that they felt above you because they wore designer clothes or got to travel the world made him sick. as he stood there, now looking at the people who surrounded him in another way, he tried to look for you. 

it pained him that he had to pretend like he didn't know you at all but he put on the image for a little bit longer until you sent him a text. his eyes softened when you said you wanted to leave and he was glad but so fucking disappointed in himself at the same time. 

"darling. let's go home yeah?" he said when he saw you and you nodded as you both went separate ways but ended up in the same car later on. "i hope you know that i would've done something if i could." 

"i know but it's okay sangie, they weren't exactly wrong." you said and he instantly grabbed your hand as he looked at you. 

"they were so wrong and i'll prove it to you. i wasn't the best boyfriend you deserve tonight." he said and you nodded as you got closer to him and he kissed your cheek. sighing to yourself as he drove home, one hand on the wheel and the other holding yours. "i'll prove to you that you're much more than they will ever be." he said and you smiled.

[honeypipin]

Everyone's Favourite Banker!

You get to grips with 141 and others this time! (no, not in that way)

Mafia!Price who invites you to one of his company galas! He even payed for your outfit, and he knew what size you were! how?

When you finally show up to the gala in your newly bought attire, Mafia!Price comes over to greet you with the biggest smile on his face. He is just so smug that you are wearing the outfit he chose for you, and you look damn good in it.

Mafia!Price who introduces you to his associates with a respectful, firm grip on your waist, and well, you've had him as a client for ages, this is just him being friendly, right?

And boy do his associates love you.

Mafia!Laswell and her wife are so sweet to you, they even let you know there's a table with appetizers and more drinks at the end of the hall, well, now you know exactly where you're planning to go.

Mafia!Soap who laughs with you over the champagne and is so convincing when he asks you to become the mafia!141's personal financial advisor, I mean look at that smile, so charming! You can't help but swoon over handsome scotsman (and he could say the same about you).

Mafia!Gaz catches you at the appetizer table, where you both chat about jobs only to learn that He, Price, Soap and Ghost all work as a corporation? He's also very happy to find out that you have been advising Price and Ghost, he was just in need of a new financial advisor, especially since the old one had...disappeared. And this new one was pretty cute too...

Mafia!Nikolai who comes over to talk to gaz but quickly shifts his focus when he sees you, introducing himself and sounding out the name you told him, apparently, he liked it. Would be a nice name to sound out in bed too, but he wasn't just going to tell you that here, you deserved somewhere better, and somewhere not as public. Maybe the private booth of a restaurant?

Mafia!Ghost who you find a while later in a private room that you just happened to wander into, well you did need a place to fix your shoes and clothes, and the bathroom was no where to be found, this wasn't what you planned, you swear! The other men that Ghost are talking to seem quite happy with your surprise visit, Mafia!Rudy asks you to join the conversation, much to Mafia!Alejandro's delight and Ghost's annoyance. The two men are also quite interested in your position, and have started asking for your contact details, wow! Price was right, this party was worth it, such great networking. The two men are happy to receive your details, but a certain mancunian can't help but glare. Fucking brilliant, more competition for you.

You return to the ballroom where Price is happy to see you back at his table, and hooray, the main courses are just coming out! Lucky you, you were getting hungry.

After a night of eating, talking, dancing and the feeling of being stared at, Price kindly offers to drive you home, and to be fair, you may have had a bit too much champagne for the food you were eating. But your car! It's ok, Price lets you know he'll drop you off tomorrow to get it too, what a gentleman. He carries you to your house the second you stumble out of his car, elliciting some drunken giggles from you, which he just loves the sound of.

He watches you let yourself into your house and wave him a toothy-grinned good bye, now he does chuckle at it, but he also wishes that you invited him in. He saw the way you looked at him tonight, but you were just too good of a financialist, savy and professional, you wouldn't just let yourself drunkenly confess to him. He did respect you for it though.

Once he drives away, you charge for your bedroom, throwing your dress on your chair, dirty clothes in the wash, pyjamas on and collapse into bed. God, what a long day, you already knew you were going to sleep in tomorrow morning.

[harmonictechnicality]

model!steve and voice actor!Eddie (part 3)

part 1 here | part 2 here | ao3 link here | the temp is up on this one so like... dni if under 18 pls

Eddie is a superstitious person, always has been. Avoids cracks in the sidewalk, refuses to walk under ladders. Says ‘bless you’ despite his lack of goddamn faith (well… scratch the god, keep the damn). That’s why, when Eddie wakes up at 11:11 that morning, he takes it as a sign. A good one too.

Okay yeah, it’s a little gross that he didn’t wake up until now. But he spent most of the night tossing and turning. A thirstfest visual loop of Steve Harrington jerking it to him. Or just his voice. Maybe both, but Eddie would be a conceited fuck if he were to ask for clarity on Steve’s preferred fantasies.

Look, he makes a lot of digs about his appearance because it’s harmless fun. In reality, Eddie is aware that he’s not an un-attractive person. Could he put a little more effort into his skincare routine so that it doesn’t peel off of him anytime he’s in direct sunlight? Sure. But his features are decent enough to get him matches on that dating app he used for exactly four days before deleting. 

Steve, though… Steve is something conjured up by a young adult novelist - creating the dreamiest boytoy for the angsty yet endearing protagonist. Steve is that. He’s something from a fictional world of hotness. And somehow, he exists beyond coffee-stained manuscripts and bestseller lists.

He’s real. And Eddie Munson has a fucking date with him in exactly eight hours.

Holy shit.

It takes two hours for Eddie to decide on an outfit. He facetimes his audio engineer/closest friend after the first hour, because his room is starting to look like an M. Night Shyamalan adaptation of Grey Gardens. 

“Show me the jean options again.” Chrissy’s tone is all business, staring intently on the other side of the phone screen. 

They met at an escape room right outside of the city. After setting a record-breaking time at that location, they got to chatting and quickly discovered they were both in the audio production business. 

Each of them lives the freelance lifestyle now. Highly ideal for their competitive escape room fixation.

Eddie holds up the three pairs of jeans. One pair is his favorite, well-worn and loose around his thighs, just how he likes them. The other two, are pairs that Chrissy bought for him last Christmas.

Lets just say… he only wears those when she’s offering to pay for dinner on their weekly hangouts. 

She hums for a while, twisting her mouth side to side before speaking again. “The dark blue with the gray crew neck. Final answer.”

“These?” Eddie holds the skinny jeans up to his hip bones. He tugs on the waistband to show how very little movement will be possible in these pants. “My dick cannot breathe in these, Chris. It’s like you want me to embarrass myself on this date.”

“I’m doing you a favor.” She shrugs, concealing a smirk behind her water bottle as she takes a sip. “Those pants are so snug, he’ll have no choice but to get you out of them as soon as possible.”

“Are you insinuating that I put out on the first date?

“Absolutely not.”

“Good.”

“I’m insinuating you put it in on the first date.”

“How dare you.” Eddie points at his phone screen. Sucks in his laughter because yeah. Props. That was a good one. He can’t admit that though because no part of him wants to wear these boa constrictor jeans.

“You were just telling me how you fucked him with your words last night.”

“Fair. But I also explained that I was clearly possessed by the spirit of Blanche Devereaux.” Eddie slips out of his lounge tee, pulls over the one Chrissy picked out for him instead. “I swear, that woman had quite the knack for dirty lingo.”

Chrissy rolls her eyes and gives Eddie a halfhearted salute. “And that’s my exit cue.”

“What? Why?”

“Because anytime you bring up Golden Girls, we start arguing over who would play them in the gender-swapped remake.”

Wrong. Totally false. There’s absolutely no argument to be had. Eddie knows exactly who he’d cast right off the top of his head. Joe Pesci, Michael Caine…

Chrissy must see the gears turning in Eddie’s head because she hangs up before he can launch into his well-rehearsed presentation. Which isn’t a joke, he has a PowerPoint on this particular topic (with cited sources and fancy transitions).

Eddie does one last glance in the mirror before heading out. The pants make his waist look slender, nice. His skin is being squeezed in too many areas, but that’s kind of the point. At least the shirt is loose, albeit a little short. Reveals a patch of his lower tattoos every time he lifts his shoulders.

Okay damn, Chrissy probably knew that too. Maybe she’s the one possessed by the horny spirit of Blanche Devereaux. 

Spiritual possession or not, Eddie ruffles out his bangs one last time. Heads out feeling much more confident than he did after his initial interaction with Steve Harrington.

Eddie agrees to pick Steve up at his last photoshoot of the day. It’s close to his side of town, which means he doesn’t have to fight his way through LA traffic. 

A good sign sent from his lucky wake-up time, no doubt.

He doesn’t expect the photoshoot to be at an amphitheater, but it is. A small one, probably only used for local productions. There’re cameras lining the outer rim of the stage, shuttering and flashing like headlights on a highway. Eddie can hear the director and photographers spewing directions from his car. There’s an audience of producers and crew members, seems like a big fucking deal by the looks of it.

The set is, well, breathtaking - way better than that knockoff fantasy shit from the cologne ad. It’s full of greenery. Trees swaying with the breeze and ivy carpeting the stage floor. A forest that’s almost too beautiful to be synthetic. Eddie wonders if any of the plants are real or if the props department was just that damn good at finding fake ones.

After a few minutes, he checks the time. The shoot is running long. No biggie - Eddie is enjoying the view anyways. Especially, when he finally spots Steve. The view is exceptionally priceless now.

Steve perched on top of a tree trunk, feeding some other model grapes. The dark and stupidly jealous part of Eddie hopes they choke on those grapes. 

His costume almost blends in with the backdrop, dark hues of green. Subtle shades of browns. Perfectly camouflaged by nature. There are vines wrapped around his bare arms, leaves tucked into his tousled hair. 

Honestly, he looks a lot like a wood nymph that Eddie would selfishly design for a DnD campaign. Better, actually. Eddie should take notes. Steal the designer's sketches when nobody's looking.

He’s positively itching to get out of his car, get a closer look at Steve in all his botanical glory. But that might come across as too impatient. Or worse, too presumptuous. So Eddie picks one of his lengthier playlists and settles into his seat.

There’s a tap on Eddie’s window, startling him out of his nap. He must’ve dozed off about twenty minutes ago because the last song he remembers listening to was from the mid-90s section of the playlist. Now, they’ve moved into early 2000s territory.

Seriously, math is way easier when music is leading the equation.

Steve is right there, peering in, still tapping incessantly. His eyes are wide, concerned maybe. Which, yeah. Concern makes sense, considering his date is yawning before the date has even started. Fucking yikes.

Eddie rolls down the window, gives Steve a toothy grin as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. “Heya, FernGully.”

Steve doesn’t acknowledge Eddie’s costuming reference. Probably missed out on that era of cult classic cartoons. “Up late?” He leans against the car and smiles, far more dazzling than the sun setting behind him.

“You would know.”

Oh, and that earns Eddie a wink from Steve. The nun-converting wink he saw months ago and still thinks about.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Steve reaches into the empty space, pushes the latch down to unlock the front door. “Come on.”

“Uh-”

“I’ve gotta change before we head out.” Steve swings the door open before Eddie can protest.  “Unless you want to have dinner with me dressed like this.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Don’t give me any ideas.”

If there were a Renaissance Festival in town or a Medieval Dinner Show still in business, Eddie would definitely trick his way into getting Steve to go dressed like that. But he tucks the idea away for now, walks down the hill with Steve to the amphitheater. Does his best impression of a civilized human.

“So… what are you supposed to be exactly?”

Steve points to the body glitter on his cheeks. “A fairy.”

Yup. A new file of woodland fantasies starring Steve Fairyington have downloaded into Eddie’s mind. If voice acting didn’t pay so well, he could make an impressive career out of his whimsical porn concepts.

So he deflects. Humor is the only solution to keep the conversation PG-rated. “Just because you’re into guys doesn’t mean you’ve gotta use outdated terms like that.”

“You know what I mean.” Steve knocks an elbow into Eddie’s arm. “I’m a literal fairy.”

“Are you implying that literal fairies exist?” Eddie teases.

“No.”

“Seems like it.”

“Jesus, you’re a piece of work.”

“I can tone it down.”

Steve stops walking, places a hand in the center of Eddie’s chest to stop him too. His playful energy fucking warps into something new. Savory and seductive. Bewitching.

“Don’t even think about it.” He answers, slipping his hand down a little, almost between Eddie’s ribs. The motion sends static through Eddie’s core, up his spine. Raises the hairs on his arm and the back of his neck.

It shouldn’t be alarming that Steve’s touch is powerful. Look at him. 

Eddie has a hard time focusing on the conversation after that. Luckily, the timing works out for him to get his shit together, as Steve heads into the trailer that's parked next to the stage.

He tells Eddie he can take a closer look at the set that he suddenly can’t seem to shut up about. It really is stunning. The size, the details, the color choices. Eddie is fairly certain this is the closest he’ll ever be to experiencing Endor in real life.

Most of the crew members are gone, a few still packing up equipment while Eddie observes a variety of plants used for decorating the wooden platforms. Learns that some plants are real and some are fake, which is actually genius. The mixture of the two distract from the plastic-y finish on some of the vines.

“This is for a special-edition cover of some Shakespeare script.” Steve says, joining Eddie at his side. His outfit is rather colorful. It checks out that he's one of the few people that can pull off a purposeful athleisure aesthetic (Eddie hates that he knows what that style looks like, ugh). “Hence the fairies and forests and shit.”

“Wait.” A lightbulb goes off in Eddie’s head. “Is this for A Midsummer Night’s Dream?”

“That’s the one.”

Eddie does a sharp turn, starts shaking Steve by his shoulders. Absolutely bursting with excitement. “Steve literal fairy Harrington, this is ridiculously cool! Like… the history-making kind of cool!”

“If you say so.” Steve agrees calmly.

“How the hell are you not more jazzed about this?”

“You sound just like my manager.” Steve mumbles. “Truth be told, the only Shakespeare play I’ve ever read is Macbeth.”

Eddie gasps, sucks in enough air to fill an inflatable kiddie pool. “We’re on a stage, you can’t just blurt out the Scottish Play like that.”

This is not good. Horrible, even. Not a damn chance that Eddie can be mellow about this. Superstitious person, believer of traditions, blah blah blah. 

And while hiding that piece of his personality should be a simple task, he cannot blatantly ignore such a major fuckup on Steve’s part. No matter how accidental of a fuckup it might have been.

“Okay, what are you talking about?” Steve asks. Still calm. 

“It’s bad luck.” Eddie explains. “The closest thing to cursing a theatrical production.”

“Well, good thing this isn’t a theatrical production then.”

And as Steve laughs off the thoughtless joke, a loud thud is heard at the back of the stage. 

There it is. A warning of impending doom in the form of a loose stage light, hanging by a few loose wires. 

Almost everyone is gone, only two crew members remain on the sidelines. One of them gets on their walkie talkie, mumbles something about a safety hazard incident.

Pfft, not just an incident. A fucking threat from the ghost of theater, that’s what it is.

“See?” Eddie waves both arms at the light structure swinging upstage. “You’ve pissed off Thespis with your loose lips.”

“Who?”

“Oh my god, you’re so-” 

A high-pitched scream cries out from a nearby street. Both Steve and Eddie jump at the sound. It’s a long, frightening scream. Something straight out of a slasher film, which is a likely possibility, for sure. Things are filmed out on the streets of Los Angeles quite a bit.

But the fear ringing out from this particular scream sounds real. Gritty and hoarse.

Fucking terrifying. 

Once the screaming stops, no sign of returning, they share a look. It’s not an ‘I’m gonna jump your bones’ look either. It’s awkward. A fine line between guilt and ‘I told you so.’

“That was just a coincidence.” Steve waves off the scream like it’s just a daily occurrence. Nothing out of the ordinary. “Curses aren’t real.”

Eddie doesn’t want to shout ‘you’re wrong’ from his metaphorical megaphone. Not on a first date, at least. Outright dogmatic behavior shouldn’t come into play until like… the end of the third date.

All he can do is shrug, swallow back the urge to correct this beautiful person standing beside him.

He’s so rigid now, almost timid from the lingering anxiety that more freaky shit is about to happen. 

“Come here.” Steve motions his head to the side, peering softly at Eddie’s expression. His shoulders are relaxed, arms reaching out for Eddie to follow. Join him.

Which he does. Can’t help it. Fully dazed by Steve’s patience, legs moving without a chance to reconsider.

“Wanna get out of here?” Steve thumbs over Eddie’s cheek, skims his nail against the scratchy bits of stubble along Eddie’s jaw. His movements are slow, precise. Only a smidge of pity in his smile. 

Yup. That’s what this must be - Steve probably thinks Eddie is being dramatic. Must assume he can smooth over Eddie’s knotted nerves by just touching him. Tracing hypnotic patterns over his skin.

Eddie is mildly irritated that it’s working. If he can’t find the strength to look away from Steve’s sunny-tinted eyes soon, he’ll float away. Slip through the air as particles. Dust. Nothing but his slutty wishes will remain.

“Not yet.” Eddie gulps.

“No?”

He can’t in good conscience let this theater stay plagued by Steve’s words. This place is on verge of being the location for a Final Destination sequel.

So Eddie removes Steve's hand from his face, squeezes once before returning it back to Steve’s side. “Gotta reverse the fuck out this bad omen first.”

“There’s no such thing as-”

“Don’t.” He pleads. “Put my superstitious mind at ease. Can you do that for me?”

Steve at least has the decency to look away while he rolls his eyes. Pretty and considerate. “Fine. How do I break the curse?”

Eddie has spent enough time in theaters to know there’s a few variations on this process. Changes from director to director. The most common one is going outside and spinning in a circle three times, then knocking on the door till someone lets you back inside.

But that’s where the problem comes in. They’re already outside and there’s no door to knock on, while pleading for forgiveness.

Hmm…

It’s a good thing Eddie remembers a few adjustments to the protocol. It’s an even better thing that he was captain of his improv troupe for three years back in college. Thinking of solutions on the spur of the moment? Adapting for the sake of the scene? Eddie lives for that shit. Comedy fucking chameleon, that’s him.

And what’s better than all of that? His leftover luck from waking up at 11:11am.

Guess it pays off to be a superstitious person. Sometimes.

Eddie clears his throat, delivers the instructions with a southern drawl. Fucks around with it because he can. “So first, you have to walk around the theater three times.”

“Okay.”

“Backwards.” That’s definitely not part of the procedure, but oh well. Steve doesn’t have to know that.

Steve scoffs, shaking his head. “Yeah, fuck that.”

“Sorry. I don’t make the rules, gorgeous.”

Except he does make the rules. Currently having way too much fun watching Steve squirm at the stupidity of it all. He’s quickly learning how easy it is to push Steve’s buttons. That shouldn’t be so thrilling for him but whoops. It is.

“Whatever.” Steve kicks a piece of gravel off the stage and sighs. “Then what?”

So he wants more? Eddie can do that. “You have spit on the ground to show your remorse.” 

“This is a bunch of shit.”

“I said spit, not shit.” Eddie leans into Steve’s ear, uses his studio voice, watches as Steve turns pink all over. He lowers the volume down to a whisper. “Try to keep up.”

“Asshole.” But there’s a grin plastered all over Steve’s face as he grumbles. Eddie’s chest is fizzing, total carbonated joy inside him knowing that Steve is a vicious little monster, just like him.

He shoos Steve off to complete the reversal process. Sits on the edge of the stage, legs dangling over the rim, fingers fidgeting with a thread on his jeans.

He’s so smug, watching the prettiest boy on the planet become the grumpiest goofball. Steve might look like an angel, but he has the aura of a full-bred Pomeranian left in the rain.

“I’m making a new rule!” Steve shouts from the back of the theater. 

“How ambitious of you!”

Eddie swears he can hear Steve growling in response, which fuck, that shouldn’t be such an adorably hot combo. But Eddie pictures the curve of Steve’s upper lip as he snarls and the zigzag of his arched eyebrows, and that’s exactly what it is. Hot. Adorable. Sensational.

Steve Harrington is a game of Mad Libs. Every adjective, every word that invokes head rushes and heart flutters, they’re all about him.

“As I was saying before you rudely mocked me,” Steve is in Eddie’s peripherals now, still stepping backwards. Toe to heel, hands loosely in his pants pockets. Not fair that he can make walking backwards look slick and cool. The nerve, the gall. “My new rule is that I get to ask you a question each time I get to the front.”

Eddie pulls one knee up to his chest, lets his chin rest over top of it. “Well then... ask away, o’ cursed one.”

Steve stops at the front of the stage. He doesn’t turn all the way around or start walking forward again. He turns just enough to look at Eddie. Focusing on him.

The sudden attention to Eddie’s face gets him all stuffy. He tries to hide the color that’s surely settled on his cheeks by digging one side of his face into his kneecap. It’s a dopey move. Too bashful, even for him.

“Alright.” Steve says. “How do you know so much about theater?”

An easy question with an easy answer. Relief surges through Eddie. “Most voice actors start out as stage actors. Not always, but a lot of us do. Gotta start somewhere, ya know?”

“Yeah. I know.” Steve nods, and continues with his second lap.

Once his footsteps are far away enough for Eddie to think properly, it dawns on him - they’re getting to know each other. Like authentic people would do.

Like… an actual date.

Shit, it’s been so long since someone in this artificial fucktown has wanted to know things about Eddie beyond hookups and screenames. A genuine moment was right in front of him, and he almost missed it.

That sobers him up. Eddie shoves away his need to Cause Chaos and accepts the sincerity. Gives it right back to Steve. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“How did the modeling gig start?”

“Agents found my instagram again.” Steve replies. “Liked my pictures enough to offer me some shitty jobs to build up my resume. The usual story these days.”

“Right.” 

Eddie can’t fathom being that attractive. So attractive that people seek him out. 

Different worlds is an understatement. Different realms is more like it.

“Next question.” Steve says, arriving to the front again. “Would you rather visit the beach or the mountains?”

Eddie has to think about that one for a minute. He doesn’t take many vacations, can’t afford to on a single artist’s income.

But he remembers a trip to Colorado that he took as a teenager. Vaguely recalls not appreciating any of the landscapes because he was too busy texting his new girlfriend during the whole damn trip.

“The mountains.” Eddie answers, just as Steve begins to walk again. “The Rockies and I have some… unfinished business, if you will.”

Steve chuckles. “Sounds like there’s a story behind that.”

“Definitely.”

“Maybe I’ll get to hear it sometime.”

“If you want.” Eddie says, beaming at the implication. 

Steve’s footsteps stop. “Like I said on the phone, Eddie. Hearing you talk is...” The Earth feels silent. But the tension in Eddie’s ears is audible. “Well… I'm into it, I guess.”

Eddie has to switch knees to ease the thump in his dick. “And is Steve Harrington a mountain man or a beach bum?” 

“Depends on the season.”

“Such a diplomatic answer.” Such a vague answer too, Eddie thinks. 

“Okay. Last question.” Steve arrives at the front, shorter of breath than he was the first two laps. He hesitates for a second, then takes a couple of steps towards Eddie. “All those tattoos you have… did getting them done hurt?”

“Like a bitch.” Eddie bunches up his shirt to show off the sleeve of ink he has on his left arm. Took years for it to look this intricate. This complete. He’ll never get tired of staring at it. “Why? Itching to get one or something?”

“Nah. Never got the appeal of putting yourself through hours of pain or whatever.”

“It’s all about the art. The memories. The stories.” Eddie stretches out his bent knee. Lets it drop back down, relaxing into his explanation. “All of those things stitched into designs that I get to admire every damn day for the rest of my life.”

“Art, huh?” Steve takes a few steps closer, close enough to touch.

“What can I say?” Eddie is shamelessly studying the specks in Steve’s eyes. How all the colors blend and separate the closer he gets. Can hear himself grinning as he speaks. “I’m a big fan of gazing at pretty things.”

He’s so tempted to reach out, pull Steve in. Have him straddle his waist while they taste each other for hours.

But he’s still mooning over those eyes - the ones that deserve myths and legends to be told about them for ages. Centuries. Whichever is longer.

“Um.” Steve’s voice snaps Eddie out of his spell. “So… spit?”

“Sorry what?”

“The curse.” Steve says. “I’m supposed to spit on the ground, yeah?”

“Right, yeah. Uh huh.”  Eddie rambles, still internally choking on the fact that Steve just said spit to him. In public.

Steve backs away, puts some space between them. He begins making this nasty, gravelly side with his mouth. His jaw sags slightly as he does it, the lump in his throat bobbing the whole time. 

Eddie gawks, fully unable to look away while Steve swishes the spit around. Filling one cheek, then the other. He’s getting harder with every noise, every swish.

All at once, Steve forcefully hocks the stream of spit onto the ground. It goes diagonally, lands way closer to Eddie than he was expecting. Gets some goddamn distance, which makes Eddie’s eyes roll back. He’s pretty sure he lets out a wobbly ‘fuck’ at how obscene it all looks.

Steve wanders back over, avoids stepping in the wet mess he made on the ground. He places a hand on Eddie’s knee, works his way up the rough edges of denim.

Eddie’s vision is still spotty from what he just witnessed, so he decides to talk until everything clears up. Steve is into that right? The talking bullshit?

“There’s one more step to complete this.” Eddie watches the blurry outline of Steve’s hand rubbing his thigh, slowly blinking the image into full focus.

“And what’s that?” Steve’s voice is low, eyes fixed on Eddie’s mouth.

“You gotta…” Eddie licks his lip. Places a hand over top of Steve’s. Moving where it moves. Going where it goes. Buys himself some time to get the words straightened out. “You gotta kiss the nearest sewer rat loser.”

“And if I don’t do that?” Steve leans in till their noses touch. “Then what? The curse won’t be broken?”

Eddie nods. Only able to give a thin ‘mhmm’ in reply. He wraps two fingers around Steve’s wrist, the hand that's still trailing heat along his thigh. Needs to press against the pulse there, feel it jump. Spike.

Steve is so quiet. So controlled compared to his pulse. “Can’t have that then, can we?”

His lips part, hovering over Eddie’s mouth. The kiss starts out like that. Lips treading, only meeting between breaths. Neither of them pushing for more than seconds of warm contact, brief and sweet. 

That is until Steve’s free hand starts twisting into Eddie’s shirt, tugging him along by the soft fabric. Eddie sinks forward, dives fully into the kiss. He holds his breath or maybe it just gets caught in his lungs from how good it all feels. How Steve touches him like he's captured. How Steve kisses him like he’s dessert.

Eddie can't help but smush their lips together, forcing their faces closer than faces can scientifically be. He hears the wet smack of their tongues echoing underneath the amphitheater, waking his lungs the fuck up. Lets out the weakest sigh, hopes most of the sound gets trapped between Steve’s lips. 

Oh god, his lips. They’re fuller than Eddie’s, puffier now from kissing this hard. He wants to squish them around with his fingers, push them into pout so he can suck on them. Turn them nice and red. Eddie gets his hands tangled in Steve’s hair, knots them up enough to resist the lip-squishing temptation that’s burning him up inside.

“Here.” Steve exhales, hooks one of Eddie’s legs around his waist. 

That… okay, fuck. That’s so hot, so unexpectedly assertive and right. Eddie takes the hint, wraps his other leg around Steve. The heel of his scuffed boots is digging into Steve’s ass, not too hard, but enough to earn a dirty whine out of Steve. He pushes them together, clothes rubbing back and forth, scratching loudly. Muffles their mouth noises though.

“Can we…” Eddie wants to move this elsewhere, anywhere less public. He’s so fucking selfish for that. Needs to swallow every sound Steve makes, secure every expression with a lock. Nobody else should be allowed to see Steve like this besides Eddie.

He lets one hand unravel from Steve’s hair, glides down to the collar of Steve’s tank top. He yanks the material lower, presses his lips against the new area of exposed skin. Sips and sucks over that spot, claims it like he could extract a piece of Steve’s soul if he sucks hard enough.

“Yeah, fuck yeah.” Steve responds, whimpering into the top of Eddie’s hair. Not entirely clear if he’s saying that out of pleasure, or agreeing with Eddie that they should relocate, but whatever. It's all too good to overthink the meaning.

Eddie unhooks his legs and kisses the deep purple mark he just made. Too fucking proud how easily the color spreads into reddish tones around the edges. 

His vision goes fuzzy again as he stands upright, has to blink away all the white specks of dizzy lust. Eddie offers a hand to Steve, but there’s no damn point for that. Steve is already hopping up onto the stage, makes it look effortless. Cool as shit.

“Follow me.” Steve grabs the crook of Eddie’s forearm, pulling him into the forested scenery.

As if there were any need for Steve to request that. Eddie Munson would follow Steve into the sketchiest alleyway of Hell, if it meant they could kiss like that some more.

They duck underneath a few tree limbs, weave through the maze of green. A few leaves get into Eddie’s mouth, but he hardly notices anything besides the dent that Steve’s fingernail is leaving in his arm. It would make the sickest crescent moon tattoo, inked and perfectly shaped. 

Damnit, Eddie’s thoughts are getting more fucked the deeper they hide. Steve slams Eddie against the trunk of a large tree. He realizes with the thud on his back that it’s plywood, not tree bark. Doesn’t care one bit if his shirt tears from the nails jutting out. Cares even less if he gets splinters from the slow grinding of their hips, hitching his shirt up further with every thrust.

“These are sexy.” Steve tugs at Eddie’s empty belt loop. Didn’t need an actual belt with how suffocating they are. “But they’ve gotta go. If that’s cool.”

“Get them the hell out of here.” Eddie is subconsciously thanking Chrissy for suggesting these stupid pants. She’ll be insufferable when he tells her about the jean's success rate. But right now? Worth it.

Anything seems worth it to have Steve popping the button out, ripping the zipper down. He’s so focused on getting these pants off that his forehead wrinkles, little beads of sweat gathering on his temples. 

Eddie can’t resist any longer, not after seeing Steve equally covered in desperation. He palms the front of Steve’s pants, wants to give him some relief for this valiant jean-removing effort.

“Steve.” Eddie huffs, brushes his lips over Steve’s ear. “You have no idea how much I’ve thought about this.” He bites over the skin, nibbling carefully with the tip of his teeth.

It must tickle because Steve laughs while shrugging the jeans lower, boxers going with them. 

“So tell me then.” He kisses Eddie. It’s harsh, mostly panting into his mouth. Steve sinks to the floor and looks up. “Keep talking.”

This. This goddamn view. Eddie wasn’t expecting to get a view of Steve on his knees tonight. Wasn’t expecting his head to go limp, looking up at Eddie the way he eyefucked the camera on the day they first met. 

Only difference is, Steve’s not acting - not pretending to be needy.

He just is. He’s all of those coy and sinful things, exclusively for Eddie this time.

“Spit in my hand.” Steve stretches his hand up towards Eddie’s chin - gives him those big, midnight eyes that could make dormant volcanoes erupt instantly. Defy physics, end climate change. 

Eddie doesn’t use brain cells anymore, just does what he’s told. He gathers enough spit in his mouth, then watches it trickle out. Pooling in the center of Steve’s hand. It’s gross, sure. But also, it’s the hottest thing he’s ever done. 

Gross and hot. Those sensations are fucking synonymous right now.

“Tell me, Eddie.” Steve gets his fingers around Eddie’s cock, the warm wetness makes it twitch in his hold. Apparently, no part of Eddie’s anatomy can believe this is really happening, not even his dick.

“Uh-”

“You said you’ve thought about it.”

“Lots.”

“So tell me while I get you off.”

“Oh.. god, okay.” And Eddie is good at that. Talking nonstop. Revealing all of his filthy secrets when asked so politely. He did it last night, slipped into his darker persona with ease so Steve could feel good.

But that’s just it, isn’t it? Eddie would say a flurry of fuckery for Steve Harrington’s approval. Get him to come until he shakes because Eddie wants that. Wants Steve to feel like liquid gold dripping between his fingers. Wants Steve to bend and break under his words and touch.

Talking dirty to get himself off is new territory. Eddie is a perpetual giver, loves being that way most of the time. Especially for someone as spectacular as Steve.

“Go ahead, babe.” Steve urges, licks the muscle of Eddie’s inner thigh till it tightens.

Right, he can do this. Even if he is short of breath. Eddie can be as confident as he was last night while Steve strokes him. “Thought about you since the commercial production.”

It’s a start. He bites his lip and keeps going. “All I could think about was… fuck. Opening you up. Leaving my fingerprints on your hips.”

“What else?” Steve purrs, working Eddie roughly with his spit-slick fingers. Sounds just as ruined as Eddie does.

“Wanted to fuck you in my lap.” Eddie pauses to moan, chest falling hard. He gets another glimpse of Steve’s hand on him, picking up the pace. A tempo so delicious that it shuts off Eddie’s judgment skills. His mouth running wild. “Let you ride me just like that. Use me till your legs go weak.”

Steve huffs out a laugh. His grip gets a little firmer, loosening up between strokes. Makes a fucking pattern out of it, has Eddie craving it. Needs more.

“And what if I wanted to fuck you, huh?” Steve’s question hits his ears like a whip. Cracking every nerve in Eddie’s body.

“I’d let you.” And it’s true, so very true. Eddie’s mouth is still going rogue, uttering truths like he’s on trial. Ready to testify all his desires to Steve. Sign his name on the dotted fucking line. “You could wreck me any way you want, sweetheart.”

Eddie seems to have found the secret words to Steve’s wild side. He’s taking Eddie down his throat, almost too fast. So fast that drool forms at the corners of his stretched lips, mouth gurgling already.

Eddie is swearing, not even real words half the time - just moans that sound explicit enough to get bleeped out on public access television. One hand goes over his own mouth while the other keeps combing through Steve’s hair.

It’s so damp now, sticking out erratically at the sides. Eddie curls a few strands over his thumb, watches the color drain from his finger. So demented, so good.

Steve is taking his cock so damn well, so Eddie tells him. Truly, all that he’s capable of is sex-drunk praise. Letting Steve know how gorgeous he is, how bruised his throat will be from sucking this much cock, how swollen and sore his lips look at this angle.

Eddie can’t stop because every phrase makes Steve get messier. Whining and whimpering each time he pulls off. Looking up at Eddie before taking him in again. Getting louder. Loud enough that sidewalk pedestrians definitely could hear him if they linger nearby for too long.

Eddie's knees buckle as he gets close. Doesn't have the energy to straighten back out, let alone warn Steve that he’s about to come. None of that seems to matter though. Steve nods twice, still bobbing around Eddie, like he just knows. Knows Eddie is there and is fucking willing to work him through it.

“Holy fuck, Steve.” Which yeah, Eddie gets it. Uttering someone’s name while he comes in their mouth is a little tacky and cliche. But saying it is involuntary, totally out of his control. Truthfully, Eddie relinquished all control to Steve hours ago.

Steve swallows, cleans Eddie with a few swipes of his overworked tongue like it’s nothing. No problamo. Like that’s the only way to handle the aftermath of an orgasm. In the most delightful way, or whatever musical shit Mary Poppins sings about. 

He gives the laziest, dreamiest grin as Eddie collapses down to his level. Both of them heaving, kissing with aching lungs. 

“Fucking fantastic.” Eddie whispers, brushes his knuckles over Steve’s pink-stained cheeks. Hopes his rings don’t hurt too much, absently forgetting how chunky they are.

Steve leans into the small touch. “Glad to hear it.”

“You’re fantastic.” Eddie clarifies. Means it more than any superstition he’s ever heard in his life.

He’s more than ready to get his hands all over Steve, make him come until he faints. But Steve is adamant that he’s chills with waiting. Says he actually enjoys the buildup from staying horny for hours and hours. Mentions something about that being a new discovery that he wants to explore. 

With Eddie. 

Steve fucking Harrington wants to explore new sides of himself with Eddie. That sends him reeling. Smitten and spiraling.

“Are sure?” Eddie paws at Steve’s hard-on, ready to jump in and save the day via orgasm.

“Very sure.” He lifts Eddie's hand away, snickering as he lays a quick kiss on each finger.  “I like being around you. That’s not gonna change overnight.”

“Like being around you too, Steve.” He takes Steve’s face into his hands, smushes it back and forth until Steve smiles. “Crazy about it, actually.”

The sun is low, barely any light left in the sky. But as Eddie holds Steve’s face, watching him smile, he notices that Steve is glowing. Not beaming, actually glowing. Even through the dimness of sky and the shadows formed by tree limbs, Eddie can see all of Steve’s features.

How is that possible?

They each look up and see it. Taking it in, this mysterious glow.

“Wow.” They say in unison, almost matching pitch. Matching levels of disbelief too.

Between the branches and leaves, they are tiny lights. Floating, orb-like lights. The brightness shining off of them is warm, soft on the eyes. They’re scattered high over the forested backdrop, orange and yellow hues twinkling against rich greens. 

Enchanting is the only word to describe this new addition. Incredibly and unbelievably enchanting.

“Set designer really popped off with this cover shoot, I guess.” Steve throws the theory out there, barely sounds like he believes it himself.

Eddie rubs his eyes. His voice comes out hushed, doesn’t really mean for it to but it does anyways. “Steve… those aren’t attached to anything. No strings, no wires. They’re just-”

“Floating?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Be serious, dude.”

And Eddie is. Completely serious. No jokes or snarky replies in his system right now. He points to the nearest light, then back at Steve. “You broke the curse, right?”

“Apparently.” Steve shrugs.

“So maybe Thespis is showing his forgiveness.”

“Who the hell is Thespis?” Steve pinches the skin between his eyes and groans - acting like Eddie’s hypothesis is giving him a migraine. Honestly, it might be. Wouldn’t be the first time Eddie worked someone up to the point of desperately needing tylenol.

He switches tactics, nuzzles into Steve’s shoulder with his nose. Attempts to lighten the mood with at least one joke in these trying times of bad luck and headaches. “Or he’s giving us his blessing for copulating on his holy grounds.”

The lights answer, flaring out all around them. They pulsate for a minute, maybe two, before returning back to their normal glow. Eddie tucks in a grin because Steve’s gorgeous little head looks like it’s about to detonate off of his gorgeous little body. So if he smiles right now, Steve will undoubtedly explode on this very flammable set piece.

Which would be a wicked awesome way to die. Post-orgasm, then up in flames. But alas, they have dinner reservations. It would be rude not to show up.

Really, it’s no surprise to Eddie that the ghost of theater is into partial voyeurism, signaling his approval with twinkling lights. Semi-public sex probably classifies as its own unique strand of performing art in Ancient Greece.

Or the dead dude is just into taboo stuff. 

If so, good for him. You do you, Thespis.

“Look.” Steve says, standing up. “Maybe it’s… an optical illusion.”

“Or magic.”

Steve lets out a deep sigh and offers his hand to Eddie. Pulls him up in one swift motion. Doesn’t let go of his hand afterward either. “How about we drop it and go get some dinner?”

Typically, Eddie is all about a verbal bloodbath. But Steve laces their fingers together, connects them in a way that has Eddie forgetting all about his need to be right. 

“Consider it dropped.”

The lights flicker out as they walk further away from the stage. And as they get into Eddie’s car, they go out entirely. Steve flicks on the radio, defaults to the classic rock station, which is playing “Magic” by The Cars.

“It’s a sign.” Eddie sings to the tune, poking a finger at Steve.

“Just drive, you big dork.” Steve swats him away, placing a hand on Eddie’s thigh while he drives. He turns up the volume, surprisingly knows every lyric by heart. Belts them out. Full on screams the parts he likes best.

Which Eddie totally can relate to. He wants to scream about all the parts he likes best about Steve. About their date that’s not even finished yet.

On their way to dinner, Eddie avoids the cracks on the sidewalk. On the drive home, he taps the roof of his car whenever he makes it through a yellow light at an intersection.

And when he drops Steve off at his apartment precisely at 11:11pm, he doesn’t say a damn word. Keeps his mouth shut, only opens it to kiss Steve goodbye (with tongue, obviously).

Sure, it’s just a dumb superstition, Eddie can admit that to himself.

But tonight… it feels like more than that.

More than a coincidence.

More than a good omen.

He sends a ‘got home safely’ text to Steve as he pulls into his designated parking spot. Totally obsessed with how fast Steve texts him back, it’s too fucking cute.

Steve: glad :) had a great time btw

Eddie: really?

Steve: yes *really*

Eddie: i had a great time too

He quickly taps the voice-record button before Steve can respond:

“Actually,” Eddie sneers. Uses the voice that Steve goes crazy for. “I had a magical time.”

Steve: ugh

Eddie: ;)

[lazyalani]

| Itoshi Rin × [F!Reader]

| Silence

| angst, hurt no comfort, no happy ending, rin does not know how to show his feelings, rin is in too deep for sae's acknowledgement, reader just wants him to be happy, rin is scared to try, reader understands where he's coming from but is also tired, swearing, rin is so angsty type

| Summary: Rin's silence always is the obvious answer.

| Blue Lock Masterlist

| Main Masterlist

Every arguement,

The sound of rushing footsteps and heavy pants collides with the sound of the continous banging of soccer balls on the ground.

You breathe heavily when you reach the park, putting your hands on your knees for support. It isn't that bad, you think. It helps with the raging cold of the night, you pant on your scarf. You take one last deep breathe and stood up straight, staring at the boy kicking the balls without a break and running around.

Rin, however, doesn't even notice you staring at him, nor did he notice someone even came. Too focused, concentrated on the balls, or his thoughts?

You match the frown in his face, does he not see you or is he ignoring you? You rolled your eyes, this is the first time you get see each other in months because of that stupid Blue shit or something and he doesn't even bother to go to your house and greet you? What a brat.

"Rin...." You call out and he visibly snaps out of his thoughts, eyes widening and the balls misses the goal.

He takes deep breaths, slowly standing up straight and going over to a bench to drink water.

"[Name], what are you doing here?" He barely acknowledges, not even looking at you and wiping his face.

every word we can't take back,

You try to calm down your temper, not wanting your first reunion in months to be a bickering contest or whatever the lukewarm shits he says.

"Can I not greet a friend after months of not seeing him?" You tilt your head, raising an eyebrow and sitting cross legged, leaning on one arm across the bench he was sitting on.

He stays silent, fueling you even more.

You sighed heavily. "Rin, what have you been doing all this time?"

"Training."

"Why haven't you contacted me?"

"Phones weren't allowed inside---"

'Cause with the all that has happened

"But they are once a player reaches a certain amount of goals and requests it." You wonder if he's surprised you know, if he is, he certainly has amazing control of his expressions, because not even a move of a brow was shown, and he stays silent once more.

You closed your eyes and leaned your head back to the fence. "Your mom told me you got your phone back, yet I never even got a reply, not even until now. What's the matter, Rin?"

"I just forgot."

"The same damned excuse over and over again." You sneer and he finally shows an emotion, frustration.

"I was busy, I am busy."

"Would it make you less of a better player to reply even just a single word?"

Before you knew it, it had turn into a shouting competition, just as it always has.

I think that we both know the way that this story ends

Wait, it hasn't always been like this, hasn't it? How had those small and petty arguments led to this? Before, it was always you and him bickering over the single chocolate Sae has left and over the other half of the chocolate twin popsicle Sae bought. Before, it was always resolved with just Sae buying another. Before, it was just you and him trying to train you at soccer. Before, it was just you and him sleeping at Sae's bed and making him sleep on Rin's room. Before, it was just you and him racing to the park. Before, it was just you and him smiling and laughing about the most random things. Before, it was just you and him secretly making fun of the kids who slip and fall and Sae either berates you or joins you. Before, it was just you, him, and Sae, having the best times of your lives.

Now, it's just you and him shouting. Now, it's just you and him fighting for your prides. Now, it's just you and him barely even talking. Now, it's just you and him as less than friends. Now, there's no more Sae.

"Why can't you take a hint and see that I don't care?!"

Now, it's just you.

Then only for a minute,

Oh, where had the sweet boy gone?

His words stabbed you right on the heart. Bullseye. Bullshit.

You didn't know what to say, or what to do. You wanted to punch him, slap him, kick him, scream at him. But what would you even say? What can you even say? What good would that even do? Oh, he's already won this competition alright.

Oh, where had all his promises gone?

All those promises of never leaving each other. Never leaving like Sae did. Never letting emotions win. Never letting a day pass without making up. Never letting things go too far. Going to ask you to be his girlfriend someday. Going on sappy dates and peaceful movie nights. Going to say I love you before the day ends. Keeping every promise made.

Where had it all gone?

You didn't know. All you knew was if you asked him, he would've said he didn't either, or he would've never answered, like he always did. Oh, right, it wasn't always like that, huh?

Oh, where had that caring boy go?

Into the shadow of his brother, you would say if asked. Drowned in the hurtful words thrown at him by the same brother he loved with his everything. Mourned for the acknowledgement and attention of the same brother who promised to become the best striker in the world with. The same brother who shattered their dream.

In that moment, Rin knew it was over. But why is it that he wanted to swallow everything back?

I want to change my mind,

He thinks he should take everything back, but the lump on his throat and his ego says otherwise.

Oh, where have your promises gone, little boy?

Inside my brother's shadow, he'd answer if asked. He knew he was in too deep into his 'revenge', but he can't help it. This is how he's always been. One goal, one direction, straight ahead, going as far as he can, and never looking back.

Oh, where have your promises gone, young man?

Inside the trapping walls of the soccer ball, he'd answer if asked. Before, it was you and him trying to teach you soccer. Now, it was you and him fighting because of soccer.

Now, he just left you hanging.

'Cause this just don't feel right to me

Oh, sweet boy, where have you gone?

Into the depths of my ego, he'd answer if asked. In too deep, too far gone to even come back. Not willing to sacrifice the things he worked so hard for. Not willing to show how much you really meant to him. Not willing to be vulnerable. Not willing to be weak. Not willing to be looked down on by his brother. Not willing to give in to anyone.

Not even to you.

Oh, sweet girl, what are you willing to do?

Everything, she'd say if asked. But I've already done everything. I've tried everything, why won't he notice it? I did everything for him. I tried everything for him.

You scoff and laugh bitterly, a tear cascading through your cheek, finally allowing yourself to break. "All these years, I have done everything just to pull you up. I have done everything to not let you kill yourself for your pathetic little brother complex. I have done everything not to let you die from exhaustion. All these years, I have done nothing but to love you, just like we used to to each other." You say, letting everything out.

I wanna raise your spirits,

"Yet you have done everything to push me away. To cast me aside when you decided to go after your brother. You decided to chase after the same person who casted you away like you did to me instead od staying with me, the same person who fucking stayed with you throughout everything. I was there when he wasn't. I was there when he left. But you still wanted to chase after him after everything. I always wondered why but I figured I just wasn't enough." You brushed your fingers through your hair, tears continously falling down your face, but you didn't bother to wipe them. You wanted him to see the damage he dealt without a care in the world.

He stayed silent, as he always has, ever since that day. And for the first time in forever, you, who has always known how he felt like inside, didn't know about the burning feeling he feels on his eyes. The burning sensation he feels as his eyes and nose reddens, you think it's because of the cold. Because you think he doesn't even have enough care to feel your pain.

"I changed myself to be the desperate girl who just wanted just for you to notice me again. All these times, I supported you and encouraged you even when your parents wanted you to stop soccer because of what happened. I patched you up when you got bruised and injured. I brought and gave you your pens, papers, notebooks, books because you kept forgetting them for prioritizing your cleats and soccer ball. I brought them even when I knew I was gonna be late over and over again because I didn't want you to fail. Because I knew failing would get you out of the soccer club you loved so much. I was there when you needed a shoulder to cry on. I was there when you needed to rant. I was there even when I knew I was only going to be casted aside again and again. And you know why? Do you even have a single fucking idea why?!" You exclaimed, standing up, voice getting a little bit louder every sentence.

He leans his back and head on the fence, closing his eyes shut, a tear finally falling down. But he doesn't care to wipe it either, too tired to care.

You see it, but you didn't care, that was nothing compared to what you were feeling all these years.

"All these years, all these times, I just wanted to see you smile again." Your voice cracked as you stared him, eyes full of intense emotions.

I want to see you smile, but

He opens his eyes and lets himself get lost in yours. Maybe, just maybe this time, he could let himself get lost in you. Maybe, he could be strong enough to ignore his pride and ego.

know that means I'll have to leave

Staring in your eyes now, he feels even more drained. How ignorant could he have been to not notice how tired you were? Or maybe you just hid it so well. You've masked your true feelings so well that he couldn't notice. Or maybe he just didn't care enough to try and see through it.

And you finally let it all loose, now that you finally let it be seen, all he can see is a shell of the sweet girl he loved. He wonders if this was how she felt all this time.

Oh, young man, why did it only sink in to you now?

Lately, I've been, I've been thinking,

A small part of you, a deep part of you, and a special part of his inside of you hopes he would say something. That he would try and save your falling relationship, whatever it is. Just something.

And a big part of him, the deepest part of him, a special part of you inside him hopes that he could take everything back. That he could restart. For the first time, he wishes life outside soccer has a restart too. A kick off. Then he'll let you take the ball.

He'll let you set the curve and control the game, his game. And then let you get far away first so that his brother's shadow will never catch up when you score a goal you'd take control and never let him have the ball that made him this way.

So that when you make a goal, he'll see that smile that made his little heart fall again. and not the face full of tears infront of him right now

I want you to be happier, I want you to be happier

But he doesn't.

He doesn't say anything. He isn't strong enough afterall. Not strong enough to keep the ego inside him. Not strong enough to push the lump on his throat.

In this game, he doesn't let you take the ball. His ego doesn't let him. His ego leaps up and crushes your dreams, making its way to the goal, pushing past everything and everyone, never looking back.

For the first time in both of your lives, you walk away.

When the evening falls,

For the first time in your life, you were the first one to walk away.

"I should've turned my back on you ages ago."

He swears his heart breaks again over and over again when he saw the life in your eyes drain.

Oh, where has the sweet girl gone?

He blames himself. Ofcourse he does. Deep inside he has always blamed himself. Deep inside he has always seen how your shoulder drops and smile fade away when he reject another one of your hang out plans. When he tells you an excuse why he ditched you.

He wonders if all of this wouldn't have happened if he was just stronger. If he was just strong enough to take his brother's critism. If he wasn't so vulnerable.

He wants to blame it all on his brother. As he always has. The blame is always on Sae. He always blames everything on his brother. Because he couldn't accept him changing positions. Because he was too stubborn. Because he was so naive.

He wonders what could've happened if he decided to let go of his brother's shadow? Would he had have asked you to be his girlfriend by now? Would he had have given you that plushie you had wanted so much? Would he had have won you the pikachu plushie on the arcade? Would he have been watching a movie and cuddling with you right now?

And I'm left here with my thoughts,

His heart breaks over and over again again at the thought of you living a happy life without him. What a hypocrite, he thinks to himself. He pushes you away but doesn't want you to be happy without him.

The thought of you spending your life with another person, with another love that isn't him, brings a tub of boiling anger to his heart. He thinks he's an asshole, a fucking prick, a shitty douchebag, and he knows it. He doesn't want you to give up on him.

But then again, he's drained all your love for him, hasn't he?

And the image of you being with someone else

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Capitol Punishment VIII

Haymitch x Reader

Summary: The Capitol continues to torture it’s victors no matter how long ago they won through punishment, exploitation, and worst of all; their relationships.

A story in which Haymitch’s lover is a plaything for the Capitol.

Warnings: Canon level violence, rape (though never explicit), alcohol, murder, systemic poverty, exploitation, rebellion (?), more reliance on movie than book, suicidal thoughts, swearing, illness, pregnancy, miscarriage

Word Count: 4.4K (she’s also kind of long)

Part VII | Masterlist | Part IX

You laid on the cold, steel table of one of the styling rooms. They had stripped all the hair beneath your eyebrows, which was no longer very painful since you’d been “maintained” ever since you won 8 years ago. They had also taken care to clean you in scalding hot water and scrub your skin raw. They cut the dead ends of your hair off, keeping it long enough to reach mid back. You were sure Haymitch started fighting them as soon as he saw any kind of razor, tweezer, or wax.

Now you were just waiting for the doctors to come back with the results from your checkup. You had told them that they suspected you were pregnant and asked if there was any way that they’d be able to do a paternity test. They told you that if the father’s DNA was in their system they could tell you and that all tributes’ DNA was logged.

As the door slid open, you sat up eagerly. “Ms. L/N, you are in fact pregnant,” the nurse informed. “About six weeks along.”

“And the father?” you asked.

“Haymitch Abernathy,” she said plainly. You were sure Snow would be upset that you were pregnant with your husband’s baby but now that he was putting you in the games, you didn’t give a damn what he thought or wanted. You were also incredibly relieved it was Haymitch’s. You were never a kids person and had never wanted to have children but if you were going to have someone’s baby, it may as well be the man you love’s.

The nurse talked with you a little more about your labs, saying you were healthy and left. Next Cinna came in. “There’s my favorite mentor,” he smiled, greeting you with a hug.

“Cinna,” you replied with a smile. While you hand he weren’t nearly as close as Katniss and he were, you had very much come to appreciate his friendly face. “Good to see you.”

“You too, although I wish it was under different circumstances. Anyway here is your dress for the parade,” he turned to the door as the rest of the style team brought in your outfit. You were kind of amazed at how beautiful it was. It was a long, almost flowing, A-line, red dress. The bodice was covered in lace and featured a halter top neckline. They did your makeup dramatically with a dark red lip and a mix of reds and blacks for your eyes. As for your hair it was done in an intricate half-up, half down style. When they finally let you look in the mirror you thought you looked like an evil queen.

You were then brought to the chariots where about half the other victors were waiting. You looked around, observing your friends/future competition. Spotting red hair you realized it was Annie. You called over to her as you approached. She looked terrified until she spotted you.

“Y/N” she ran up to you as best she could in her mermaid-like outfit. She gave you a big hug which you returned.

“Where’s Finnick and Mags?” you asked.

“I don’t know,” she answered. Her scared look appeared again as she looked around frantically for probably the only two people in the world who brought her real comfort. You noticed she was still hugging you. You were probably a stand in for Finnick until he arrived.

“He’s probably still with the stylist. How are you two?”

“We’re good, or were until the games were announced,” she murmured sadly.

“Hey, don’t think about that right now,” you tried to soothe her. She wasn’t much younger than you but she was so small and fragile looking that you felt like you needed to protect her. “And I can guarantee you Finnick won’t let anything happen to you. Neither will I,” you promised. Assuming Haymitch was right about a plan you were telling the truth. You’d fight to get this poor girl out.

“Annie?” you head a familiar voice call from behind you.

Annie immediately pulled away, recognizing Finnick’s voice. You smiled as you watched the two lovers reunite. You were sure that Finnick, like you, didn’t care about Snow’s rules about availability anymore. He was sending you to your death, who cares if the Capitol’s desire to fuck you was still high?

Soon enough the rest of the Victors were at the chariots, all except one. Haymitch.

Cinna was getting Katniss and Peeta ready when he came to you, the very last chariot. He handed you a remote. “Press this when Katniss presses hers. You’ll know when she does.”

“Wait where’s Haymitch?” you asked.

“I don’t know, probably with Portia,” Cinna explained. “I have to go, he’ll be out soon. Just make sure you look straight ahead, no waving.”

The avoxes were all ushering you into the chariots and you were sure they were frantically trying to find your partner because they were all running around. You were starting to actually get scared when the elevator doors suddenly opened, revealing Haymitch and Portia. He rushed to the chariot, pecking you on the cheek as he got in.

“Where were you? You scared me.”

“Sorry, got held up. I need to talk to you after.”

“I need to talk to you too,” you replied just as the chariots started to pull out. You took your husband’s hand, putting on a blank expression as Haymitch did too. The runway was so loud, there were so many people above you cheering. It wasn’t hard to look disinterested, you were disgusted with them for cheering as you were paraded around before you had to fight to the death.

About halfway down the runway Katniss and Peeta burst into flames. You pressed the button on the remote and out of the corner of your eye you could see Haymitch erupt into flames as well. As you approached Snow, you didn’t even bother to look up at him as the chariot rounded the end of the runway, bringing you all the way back inside where you had started.

You finally took in Haymitch’s appearance. They had cleaned up his beard so it was more cleanly cut. His hair had also been trimmed and washed properly. He was in a suit with no sleeves, showing off muscled arms, identical to Peeta’s. Both eager to hear what the other had to say you grabbed Katniss and Peeta and went to the elevators.

Just as the door was closing Johanna Mason stepped into the elevators. “Well don’t you all look amazing,” she snarled. “My stylist is such an idiot. District 7, lumber, so she dressed us as trees.” She let out a scoff as she started taking the cuffs of her costume off. “I’d like to put my axe in her face.” She stepped closer to Peeta. “Help me with the zipper?” she turned around, not allowing him to answer as he awkwardly unzipped her costume.

You and Haymitch were holding in your laughs as Katniss made a face you couldn’t even identify the emotion of.

She thanked him as she stripped off the costume, standing completely naked in the elevator. The doors opened as you reached floor 7. “Let’s do it again sometime,” as she walked out of the elevator, completely shameless.

“Thank you,” Haymitch said.

You slapped his arm playfully. “See you later,” you called after her.

“Johanna Mason, 7, if you hadn’t figured it out yet,” you informed.

“Is she always like that?” Peeta asked.

You shrugged. “I’ve never seen her strip naked before today but yeah, she hasn’t ever cared. When she was here the first time she was screaming profanities all the way down the chariot line.” The doors then opened into the penthouse, you and Haymitch immediately headed towards your bedroom to hear what the other had to say. You both stepped into the bathroom for privacy.

“You go first,” you said, hoping this was about Plutarch.

“I was late because Plutarch came to see me. Y/N I was right. About a fourth of the tributes are in on the plan to get Katniss out. We’re gonna have to carry on like a normal game at first but Beetee is going to shut down the arena and Plutarch will have us extracted.” You could cry you were so relieved. Haymitch was smiling eagerly. “We’re gonna make it, we’re gonna see a world without the games. Just make sure you stay by me so I can protect you, okay?”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “And that news makes what I’m about to tell you better.” You took a deep breath, bracing yourself. “I’m pregnant.”

Haymitch’s eyes widen. “Are you sure? I kind of suspected but didn’t want to say anything.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure. The doctors tested and they were also able to tell me that you’re the father.”

His eyes widened impossibly more. He gingerly pressed his hand to your still flat stomach. “You’re gonna have my kid?” he looked hopeful, excitement fortunately creeping into his expression.

“Yeah,” you agreed. You felt a few tears of joy slip. “I had never wanted kids but the thought of having yours? I want to raise this baby with you, Haymitch.”

“I felt the same,” he agreed. “This world is too fucked up to have a baby so that’s why we have to change it. God, I didn’t know it was possible to love you more,” he kissed you, his hand still planted on your stomach. You deepened the kiss, your hand meeting his.

That night you laid in bed in comfortable silence, more in love than you had ever felt before. “What should we name it?” Haymitch asked.

You mused for a second. “If it’s a boy, I wanted to name him Asher, after my father. And for a girl I thought about Maysilee?”

Haymitch pressed a kiss to your hairline. “I like that.” He paused again. “Should we tell people?”

“The world expects at least one of us to die in about a week. No point in telling people. Besides I think Peeta would jump off that platform before the timer hit zero if he knew I was pregnant,” you explained monotonously.

“Okay, so we won’t tell anyone,” your husband agreed.

~

The next day at the training session was fairly intense. All of the victors (except those suffering from withdrawal, insanity, and/or age) were trying to show off how still in shape they were. You spent most of the time observing until you did the hand to hand combat station. There were real trainers who would fight you and fake weapons that could sense what wounds they’d inflict in order to simulate the arena as close as possible.

Feeling like being a little bit of a showoff you decided to do it despite your newfound condition. You had made sure Haymitch wasn’t anywhere nearby as you picked up the fake knife and stepped on the mat. The trainer gave you no warning as he suddenly attacked you, running at you with a sword. Fortunately you were still looking at him the entire time so you could easily dodge at the last second. As his momentum carried him forward, you swung your arm back, hitting him in the shoulder with your knife.

“Non fatal wound to left shoulder,” an automated voice announced.

He whirled around, swiping at you with the sword. As you were dodging you got closer and closer to the edge of the mat.

“Approaching boundary,” the voice informed. So you ducked under the sword, flailing your lugs until you caught his ankle, sending him to the ground. His sword fell which you kicked off the mat. He was up in a second though, lunging at you. Your eyes widened in surprise, trying to move out of the way but he managed to grab your arm, dragging you to the ground. You fell with a thud and before you could wrench your arm from his grip, he was on top of you, straddling your hips. He was grabbing at the knife in your hands which you were trying to keep away. You felt it scrape against both his and your arms, each time eliciting a “Non fatal wound to arm.” Eventually you managed to stab it through his hand as the simulator said, and bring it closer to you before you thrust it into his throat.

“Fatal wound to the neck. Simulation ended,” the voice announced. You looked over, noticing a few other tributes watching from their own training spots. Haymitch, however, was fuming over by the knife section.

“You’re awfully tough,” the trainer said, getting off of you. “Impressive, especially considering you won eight years ago,” he complimented.

“Oh, thank you,” you said, taking his hand to stand up. Now Haymitch was walking over. “I have to go,” you dismissed, meeting up with him. You felt like a kid again as you approached your fuming husband.

“What the hell was that?” he asked. “You could’ve mis-”

“Shh,” you demanded. “And sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

“You’re damn right you weren’t thinking!”

You were normally a very patient person, especially with Haymitch. You were sympathetic both when he was drunk and sober but you never took yelling, especially after you already apologized. You let out an indignant laugh. “I just apologized and you’re really gonna yell at me? Find me when you calm down,” you scoffed, walking off.

Haymitch was still angry as he watched you walk off. He had been chatting with Chaff when Chaff had told him to turn around. He was horrified to see you fighting with a man about twice your size. But he knew better than to interrupt so all he could do was stew in worry and anger until it was over. He nearly pulled the trainer off you when he got on top of you. Worried both about your safety and his fetus’. By the time it was done he was angry. Angry that you’d risk your pregnancy. He knew he shouldn’t have yelled at you, especially in front of so many people but he was so worried. He was honestly a little scared of how much he wanted that baby.

You made; your way over to Finnick and Annie who were making fish hooks together. She had a soft smile on her face as she weaved the feathers onto the hook while Finnick had a soft smile while looking at her. You really hoped they’d both make it out.

Finnick looked up, having noticed you. “Where’s lover boy?”

“You’re one to talk,” you sneered.

“It have something to do with your little show off session?” he asked.

“I wasn’t showing off. I was training,” you scoffed. “Besides, once again, you’re one to talk.”

“What do you mean? I've been doing this the whole time.”

“Don’t act like you don’t fully intend to get in there with a trident.”

He scoffed, a look of mocking offense painted on his face. “I would never.”

You laughed, taking a spot next to Annie, observing her work. You spent the next half hour learning how to make fish hooks, occasionally glancing up to watch Haymitch. He mostly stuck to the survival stuff but tried some combat and weapons training. It pained you to watch him fumble in those areas. He definitely wasn’t the most unathletic tribute but he was far from the most athletic. And while you had faith in Plutarch’s plan, not every victor was in on it and athleticism was still very much a part of the game.

Eventually Katniss wandered over, making fishhooks with Mags until she migrated to the archery station. As more tributes went over to watch the newest victor in action, you followed too. You had seen Katniss shoot last year but with so many simulated targets at once you were impressed by how good she was. Everyone else was too as Mags clapped for her when she had completed her round.

~

You eventually headed back upstairs, not really sure what to do. You had done lots of weapons training, especially knife throwing which had been a skill you utilized in your original games. Knives were always guaranteed to be in the Cornucopia and being able to put distance between yourself and others made the most sense. You worked with a few other weapons, Haymitch giving you worried and disapproving looks the entire time. You got so sick of his looks you moved onto survival but got bored of that quickly so you just went upstairs to lay down.

Haymitch appeared in the doorway sometime later. “I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“Thank you,” you said sitting up. You knew he was coming from a place of love and concern so you were done being mad. Besides, you had been a couple for so long that your arguments could almost always be resolved in a couple sentences.

“Half the tributes want to be our allies. They of course assume we’ll be allies with Katniss. Peeta too but mostly Katniss.”

“Okay well who of the potential allies know about the plan?”

“Wiress and Beetee, Finnick, and by association Mags and Annie,” he answered. “Although Enobaria wants Katniss too but she and none of the other careers know. And a couple others from 5 through 10.”

“Did Katniss say anything?”

“She wants Wiress, Beetee, and Mags. But no Finnick. I told them she’s still considering.”

“What about Johanna, Blight, Chaff, and Seeder? I thought they knew.”

“They do, they just don’t necessarily want to get on Katniss’ crazy train,” he explained, taking a seat on the bed and throwing an arm around your shoulder. “That girl is a piece of work.”

You laughed a little. “She’s not that bad. Yes, a little volatile but so is Johanna and I like her. I like them both,” you added.

Haymitch hummed in agreement. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired but fine. I think everything is fine,” you placed a hand on your stomach. “I’m pretty sure fetuses can take a little knocking around. How would we have survived so long if they couldn’t?”

“Yeah, yeah, just take it easy. No getting punched in the gut,” he chided.

“Aw man, there go my dinner plans,” you jokingly whined.

“Shut up,” he chucked.

~

The next couple days were largely uneventful. You and Haymitch kept trying to convince Katniss to ally with Finnick or even Johanna but she refused, thinking that they’d stab her and Peeta in the back as soon as the biggest threats were taken out.

Eventually it was finally time for interviews the night before the games. With your permission Cinna tapped into the femme fatale look that had been part of your selling point your first games. It was a satin black dress with gold chains laid across the bodice and forming the straps. It had a high slit that came almost to your hip but your modesty was protected by delicate gold chains that held the top of the slit in place.

Your makeup was done dramatically again. Your red lips had been a part of your look the first games so Cinna had wanted to keep them this year. Your hair was done up in intricate braids with gold weaved through it so as to “not cover up too much of Cinna’s design,” one of the hair stylists told you.

You watched the other interviews as you got ready. You could see through all of them, whether they be extremely calculated or not, they were all a desperate cry to stop the games. Some were subtle like Cashmere and Gloss’ joint interview as “the family of the Capitol.” Johanna’s however, was not at all subtle as she screamed at the crowd and Snow for putting her back into the games. Some just made you outright feel bad for them. Like Annie and Finnick’s joint interview where she clung to his arm, hardly able to get out two words.

Eventually it was your turn. You stood in front of the stage entrance, trying to calm yourself down as Caesar introduced you. “Please welcome the winner of the 67th Hunger Games, Y/N L/N!”

You could hear the crowd erupt into cheers as the doors opened, blinding you. But you stepped out confidently nonetheless, eventually regaining partial sight. “Y/N, stunning as ever, wouldn’t you agree, folks?” Caesar began.

The crowd once again erupted into cheers. “You’re too kind Caesar.”

“I understand you have many sponsors who supported you in your original games and even after,” he explained. You hoped your face didn’t show it but you felt your heart stop. Was he really bringing up your torture in your very public interview? “Let’s hope they’re just as generous this year.”

“Oh I promise them I’ll make it worth their while,” you smirked into the microphone. You’ve been playing this game for a long time. What’s one more night?

“Now I have to ask as the mentor to the lovebirds of 12, is there anyone special in your life?” What kind of questions were these? You gave a polite laugh, shaking your head no. “Oh c’mon, really? With your looks? I find that hard to believe.”

“No not anyone,” you once again denied. “I’ve been on a few dates with some Capitol citizens but nothing serious. I guess eight years after the games still isn’t enough time to get over it.” You left the innocent look on your face.

It was sobering to the audience but Caesar quickly tried to bring the mood up again. “Well I just have a few more questions for you. We’re all very familiar with your protégée’s stylist. Tell me, are you working with Cinna too?”

“I am,” you agreed excitedly, giving them back the Capitol darling they had loved so dearly eight years ago. “No offense to my previous stylist but I think Cinna just gets me more.”

“I agree, this dress and the chariot parade dress suit you very well. And I have to say, you in flames? Breathtaking.”

“Aw thank you,” you smiled. “I’m sure Cinna appreciates it too.”

“Yes and we’re excited to see more of his work soon. Thank you Y/N, it’s been a pleasure. Give it up for Y/N L/N!” The crowd once again gave their cheers as you walked up the stairs, taking your place next to Chaff.

“Our next guest was the winner of the last Quarter Quell. Give it up for Haymitch Abernathy!” You watched as Haymitch approached, only able to see his back from your vantage point. “Haymitch, it’s been too long.”

“Not long enough in this context,” he laughed.

“Ah yes, but wouldn’t it be such an honor to win both Quarter Quells?” Caesar pressed. He probably already knew this would be a difficult interview for the Capitol.

“In theory I suppose. I’m mostly concerned about getting some of the younger victors out though.” The crowd let out cries of sympathy.

“How considerate,” Caesar said solemnly. “And tell us, what was it like to mentor our lovebirds coming up next?”

Haymitch pondered for a second, not quite sure how to answer. He has spent the whole night trying to decide if he’d tell the Capitol about your relationship. “Well I can tell you it wasn’t easy. Katniss can be a little headstrong.”

“Oh well we all know that,” Caesar laughed. “And Peeta?”

“He’s a very kind boy. They’re great together.”

Caesar laughed. “Yes well it’s nice to hear that from someone close to the couple. Now what about you? We’ve already heard from your original protégée about her love life, what about yours? We haven’t heard much from you in the past 25 years.”

Haymitch really thought about dropping a bomb like Peeta did last year but realizing how valuable your sponsors could be in the games, he thought better of it. “Not really. Y/N said that eight years isn’t enough time to get over being in the games. Twenty-five isn’t enough either.”

“Ah well I wish you the best of luck. Ladies and gentlemen, Haymitch Abernathy!”

He joined you up on the platform, squeezing your hand quickly before turning his attention to Katniss as she walked out on stage. Her dress was beautiful, a little over the top but Cinna had outdone himself. The crowd was losing their minds realizing that was Katniss’ unused wedding dress. The audience was completely captivated by her, especially when she revealed the Mockingjay dress that Cinna had weaved into the wedding dress that Snow no doubt made her wear. A daring display of defiance that you unfortunately knew someone would pay the price for.

Next came Peeta with his suave attitude from last year. They spoke for a moment until Caesar brought up the unfulfilled wedding.

“Actually we got married. In secret,” he revealed. You glanced at Katniss as inconspicuously as possible. Fortunately she kept her expression neutral. “We want our love to be eternal. Katniss and I, we’ve been luckier than most. I wouldn’t have any regrets at all if it weren’t…” Caesar pressed him. The entire Capitol was in the edge of their seats, hell you were too. “If it weren’t for the baby.”

The Capitol was shocked, you were shocked, the other victors were shocked, even Katniss was shocked. The audience was losing its mind, some even shouting to stop the games. You half wondered if Peeta knew you were pregnant. He made his way up to the stage, hugging Katniss. You still faced the audience when you felt Haymitch’s hand grab yours. Looking over you could see Katniss holding his other hands so you grabbed Chaff’s wrist. Once everyone was linked you all lifted your arms up. The Victors joined in solidarity against these games and the Capitol.

Part VII | Masterlist | Part IX

[icey--stars]

ACOTAR and TOG males in Corsets/Vests (Headcanons)

The High Lords of Prythian + 2 more ACOTAR males and then Rowan and Fenrys from TOG.

I think my self control just went down the hill because now I'm on pinterest looking at men in corsets and imagining which acotar/tog male would wear which. As well as vests (I have an addiction). So far I've come to the following conclusions: (doesn't include cass and az because I literally only see them wearing leathers/more formal leathers, not really a corset/vest. MAYBE az, but only for eris.)

If you want to see my lack of self control, feel free to look lol

Rhysand:

Would be so good looking in a corset. (However, Lucien, Thesan and Tarquin would be slightly better). However, I have to say that he'd probably be better looking in a vest than a corset 🫣 The purple one would match his eyes and well... his eyes happen to be one of my favorite physical characteristics of him.

~~~

Helion:

THIS male. Oh lordy. He'd ROCK a corset like none other and honestly, he's never going to wear a vest. I don't see him doing it. He'd wear the traditional Day Court robes but then he'd one day just walk out in the gold chains (far right) and everyone would not be able to take their eyes off him. And the gold?? The gold fits too well with his dark skin. I am UNWELL.

~~~

Lucien Vanserra:

I am panting after this male so badly. He would be the best looking in a corset, absolutely no competition. He would have everyone drooling over him and THEN he'd just pop out in a vest and it'd be the same. He looks way too good in either. He looks good in like every court's style too! I just can't with him. I could put him in any of the corsets on this post and he'd look FABULOUS.

~~~

Thesan:

Would absolutely have his lover panting after him in either a corset or vest. I like to imagine Dawn Court fashion with like soft yellows and oranges along with creams and browns?? I think that the first corset fits the best into that. But do I really need to say more? With his skin tone (a more asian one, darker. definitely not white at all) he would look HEAVENLY.

~~~

Kallias:

Would look best in a vest, BUT if anyone is going to look ANY good in a dark blue/white corset, it's definitely Kallias. Now, the middle one wouldn't be paired with black of course, but he'd look DAMN GOOD in it. Am I going insane? Probably.

~~~

Tarquin:

This male would canonically wear corsets daily. The vest just doesn't do it for him. Sure, he looks amazing but it's also too warm in Summer to wear it! He'd be wearing the corset with nothing under it (or for court proceedings, a white dress shirt) but literally- he'd look so hot. Thus far, the rankings for corsets are: Lucien, Tarquin, Thesan, Helion and then Rhys. Everyone else is irrelevant.

~~~

Eris Vanserra:

We are going to skip Beron, I'm sorry. If you can't tell by the number of times I've ruthlessly had Beron killed in my fics, then you should know I hate him.

So, Eris Vanserra, High Lord of the Autumn Court is definitely someone who I'd rather see in a vest. But a corset? If he finds the right one, he'd look damn good. Just like his little brother. Though, I feel like he'd be so tired after ruling Autumn that he'd wear it mostly to help his posture lol

However, when he's not tired and wears a vest, he'd look like a god incarnate and I'd get down on my knees to worship the ground he walks on.

~~~

Tamlin:

We believe in Tamlin in vests around these parts. (and forgiveness, but that's not what these weird headcanons are about) He'd be drool worthy. His hair?? PERFECT to match the first vest or the corset. I swear, he'd look so good that I'd be panting if he walked by me.

~~~

Rowan Whitethorn:

Rowan? Rowan would wear a corset and have Aelin panting after him the entire day and absolutely nobody would be able to focus that day. Like literally, if you even get a glance, your mind is BROKEN. I would personally just get down on my knees and beg. I don't know about you guys, but if I imagine his tattoo as well, it only serves to make it worse. And a vest?? If you imagine the right with the green and then a more silver color... yeah, I think you get the point. Rowan is drool worthy ALWAYS.

~~~

Fenrys Moonbeam

Do I really even need to say anything?? DO I? Fenrys. Corset. I am melting. He could fit into so many colors and styles and look amazing? I'm not even going to provide a vest picture because any fancy ones that I look up would automatically look good on him. His onyx dark eyes just make it easier!!

~~~

Okay... well that was longer than anticipated but I hope you all enjoyed those thoughts. I think I've gone feral by looking at all these images and imagining the acotar/tog men in corsets.

[persphonesorchid]

Cupid’s On Holiday - KSJ

Summary: You don't get it, you're a damn catch. Anyone would be lucky to have you. You're smart, you're tidy, hell you'd give up your own kidney to a homeless guy if he needed it that bad. So what the issue? Failed relationships, blind date after blind date, and now your friend's competitive archery teammate is telling you he's Cupid here to help you find your one true love. You're not that desperate. He could take those golden arrows and shove 'em.

Genres: Angel!Au | Fluff, angst, smut, slight enemies to lovers, humor.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, smut (fingering, protected sex), Oc's a bit of a downer but hey! Aren't we all sometimes! If I missed anything, let me know!

Rating: Mature (Minors, please, go away.)

Word count: 17k

Masterlist

Notes: A little late, but I made it before Saturday! I really really hope you guys enjoy this!! My contribution to @raplinesmoon , @kithtaehyung and @joheunsaram 's Catch Of The Century Collab! It's been a bit of a struggle to write, so show it some love! Also, you won't understand what I mean yet, but emotions are valid and you should feel them. Thank you to THE LOMFL @xpeachesncream for beta'ing for me, Nikki I love you so so much! Thank you for being there when I screamed about this fic when lightening struck and hyping me up always. Ly babie ❤️❤️❤️

Don't forget to leave feedback guys!! I'll love to hear your thoughts ( or crazy emotional rambles) Enjoy!!

Serendipity was in full swing; music blasting so loud you can feel it in your chest. Fellow club goers crowding the dance floor in a wild flurry of limbs and ill-timed dancing. You can barely keep up with the conversation Yoongi and Jungkook are having, you’re not even sure how they’re hearing each other over the music.

Clubs typically aren’t your thing, not one for the deafening music or the people who never knew when they had too much to drink. Tonight, though, you made an exception, meeting a friend of a friend for a date you were excited to be on. You thank your lucky stars you had the foresight to grovel at Yoongi’s feet to come with you, lord knows you’d be making your grand escape through the club’s back door by now.

“I mean, it’s not that hard, right?”

“That’s what she said.”

“Dude. Grow up.”

You chuckle into your whiskey as Yoongi rolls his eyes, waving his hand to direct your attention back to him and not on the way Jungkook was snickering. The flashy strobe lights waving mindlessly in the club catch on the silver of Yoongi’s bracelet and he rights his leaning frame, propping an arm on the table between you both.

“All I’m saying is...” He thinks hard for a moment, tilting his head to squint at the ceiling. You could tell he’s gone above his limit tonight; the rosiness of his cheeks visible in the odd flashes of light. “Man up. When he gets back, tell him he’s an ass and we can go home.”

“You know she’d rather die.” Jungkook mutters, draining the end of his beer, adding the empty bottle to the rest that was steadily growing the longer you all sat there. “Too nice.”

“Shit, you’re right.” Yoongi says, brows furrowed as though he’s just heard the most distressing news in his life, “I’ll do it for you. I swear if I have to sit here and listen to that guy ramble on about himself any more I’ll actually walk out into the street and stand there.”

“I don’t find you funny.” You deadpan, kicking your foot against his shin. He only whines, reaching for your bottle of water instead of brandishing his silver tongue at you.

Yoongi takes a long drink, eyes scanning the crowd, “He’s taking a long time to get back from the bathroom.”

Jungkook lifts himself partly out of his seat – having more vantage with his height – and looks around too. “Fou-oh...”

“What?” You perk up, following Jungkook’s gaze, but you’re suddenly blocked by Yoongi, who you didn’t even see get up. He shifts every time you’d move to look around him. You open your mouth to protest, but Yoongi’s hands land firmly on your shoulders.

“How about we just go? It’s late.” The furrow of his brow and the clench of his jaw tells a lot; he’s seen something you’d be better off not seeing at all and you simply agree. You take the hand that he offers, sliding out of the booth and Jungkook follows with a frown.

When you all get outside, Yoongi throws an arm over your shoulder, and you’re grateful for his warmth as the late night air nipped at your skin. You sigh, watching mist dance on your exhale, ducking your head a little to look at your feet. It’s quiet between you three, and you realize belatedly that you should’ve asked Hoseok to come too. He’s always good at distracting you.

Of course, you should have expected it to go this way. Another failed date that’s left you feeling worse than before, you think you’d might as well give up now, resign yourself to growing old and having fifty cats to keep you company. It’s been this way for a while, your last actual relationship being exactly three years and six months ago -- not that you’re counting or anything.

You stayed out of the dating scene for a while, focusing on yourself and being happy and content with who you are first before anything. Because that’s important, you can’t love someone else without loving yourself first. It was a good run anyway, until you became lonely and Yoongi’s dry humor and good cooking no longer sustained you.

You loved him, truly, but you missed the level of intimacy he couldn’t provide you with. Even though you loved when he made a big deal about cuddling and holding your hand – and frankly would rather shoot himself in the foot than say he liked that shit. You’re honestly considering making a pact with him to get married in the next ten years or something. You feel like that’s the only way to get out of whatever curse you’re under.

You don’t know if it’s you, or what. You’ve tried meeting new people, friends of friend’s, strangers from dating apps. Your dating life is quickly going down the drain.

“Hey, get out of there.” Yoongi taps his fingers against your temple, looking a little more sober now, even though his cheeks remain pink from the cold. He frowns at you, pulling you a little bit closer to his side, “Don’t think about it, okay?”

You can’t help it though, it’ll do no good in the long run, you know that. You’ve been feeling all sorts of low, and really you shouldn’t. You don’t need someone next to you to feel complete, to make you feel like the world’s finally spinning on the right axis. You just hate that you feel like you do; everyone around you seems to be happy and with someone and you’re here feeling like the hottest dumpster fire. You want to have rose tinted glasses to wear, too.

You wanted someone to hold hands with that wasn’t Yoongi or Jungkook...or Hoseok whenever he wasn’t working at the bar and using you as his wing-woman. You wanted someone to tell you you’re pretty and not mean it in a totally-best-friend way.

You sigh, long and drawn out, shoulders sagging as you watch the pavement pass by under your feet. The cracks in the gray stone representing the cracks in your love life that’s slowly drifting away like the ashes of the universe post Infinity Snap. Oh, you wished Thanos was actually here to snap you out of existence. You can deal with floating away into nothingness than dealing with the loneliness that’s beginning to cling to the edges of your form.

“How about we stop at the convenience store?” Jungkook suggests, linking his arm with yours, he looks down at you with a soft smile you couldn’t see. “Ramen on me?”

You can’t say no when you look up and catch his smile, dimples and all, and the three of you walk a little faster.

“Damn, everything’s just going up these days.” Yoongi grumbles, reading the label of a vitamin gummy bottle with a frown. You hum, reading your own set of labels listlessly a few feet away.

You’d long lost Jungkook somewhere in the depths of the large convenience store. He’d run off to find something and it’s been five minutes of you and Yoongi walking around and complaining about prices.

Yoongi puts the vitamins back on the shelf, twisting the container until the brand label faces him. You see him glance at you in your peripheral, see him walk a little closer until he stops at your side, “Doing okay?”

You think about it for a fraction of a second and shrug, throwing Yoongi a careless ‘Ok' sign, “Yeah, A-OK.”

You really just want to go home, watch a movie and forget tonight. Maybe you can convince Yoongi to watch that movie with you, and you both can share laughs over more beers and the pistachio flavored ice-cream that Yoongi hates.

The man himself doesn’t look convinced, and it shows in the raise of his eyebrow and the way he studies you. He’s always said you’re like an open book to him and he knows how to read the lines well – as much as you hate that – you appreciate that he says nothing of it.

You know it will come up later, not now while it’s still fresh, but when you least expect it. Yoongi purses his lips at you, shaking his head before tugging you along behind him as he walks on.

“Guys!” Jungkook's call comes from behind you both, and you and Yoongi turn to his approach, and the company he had with him.

The guy trailing behind Jungkook, for the sake of your mind that grinded to a halt at the sight of him, is beautiful. You don’t think you’ve called a man beautiful before, but there’s no other word that you can use. This man with his dark hair, eyes of the deepest brown, perfect plush pink lips and the widest set of shoulders you’ve ever seen.

You stand a little stunned, just staring at him until Yoongi nudges your arm and you realize that Jungkook is speaking. You can feel Yoongi’s eyes on you, briefly, but you know he’s itching to grill you and you’ll never live it down.

“Guys, this is Seokjin.” Jungkook smiles, waving a hand at his friend, “He’s on the archery team.”

Seokjin bows his head in greeting, “Hello.”

“Jungkook talks about you a lot. It’s nice to put a face to the name.” Yoongi says as you struggle to come up with anything that won’t give away how nervous you suddenly felt.

“This is Yoongi, and Y/n.”

Yoongi nudges your side again and you smile, “Nice to meet you.”

There’s a twitch in his eyebrow as his eyes focus on yours, and for a moment it feels as though he’s looking right through you. He’s looking at you, but his eyes are so intense you feel like you’re under a microscope, or having one of those weird naked dreams and nothing to cover your shame.

It seemed like the moment stretched on for ages, and you’re stuck in a void being watched by someone you can’t see.

Seokjin's lips pull into a smile and when he blinks, you do too. There’s something strange about the air in between the space you occupied, something unfamiliar but at the same time not completely unknown. You’re not quite sure how to feel about it and you’re not sure if the shiver going down your spine was from the AC.

When he looks away from you to look at Jungkook, you lean over to take the basket from Jungkook’s lax fingers – it was filled with way more things than you’d all come in for - announcing that you’re going to check out.

You and Yoongi leave them both talking, walking back to the front of the convenience store where the cashiers were. You’re wondering about what that could’ve been, teeth picking at the skin of your bottom lip, brows furrowed in thought.

“You sure you’re good, right? You seemed a bit gone back there.” Yoongi asks, unloading the contents of Jungkook’s basket onto the counter, shaking his head as he picks up a packet of mint gum and places it with the things.. “Well, actually, you looked stupid – and I don’t mean that in the way it sounds. You just kinda...blanked. Like the second you saw him you went outta your head.”

“Huh...” You look back to where Jungkook and Seokjin are still talking, still feeling watched even though he wasn’t looking. “Kinda felt like it.”

When you finally left the convenience store, a light drizzle had started. Your apartment complex isn’t far, less than five minutes from where you are.

Seokjin had parted from your small group, getting into a fancy black car parked at the curb after bidding you all goodnight.

The walk was quiet until you’d all gotten home, with Jungkook waving a little frantically at his door a good way down the hall. Yoongi made no move to get into his apartment next to yours, watching you fumble with your keys.

“Not going in?” you mumble, looking over your shoulder to catch him waving his phone at you.

“Nah, I’m gonna meet Hobi.” He says, “Need me to stay with you?”

You shake your head. Sometimes you felt as though you treated Yoongi like your therapist, he’s always there to listen when you need to vent, always being the shoulder to cry on. Always a listening ear without complaint.

“I’m okay Yoongi. Promise.” You smile, lifting the plastic bag that Jungkook had so graciously provided you with. “I’m gonna eat my woes away.”

Yoongi sighs, “You know you can’t say you’re okay and then follow with that.”

He steps over to you and hugs you a little awkwardly, patting your back. You appreciate his effort to sacrifice his comfort, even as you laugh a bit. “Text me if you need anything and I’ll come back.”

Relaxing in his hold, you sigh, “D’You think it’s just me? I mea-”

“-No.” Yoongi cuts in, rubbing small, comforting circles against your back, “Men are dicks. It ain’t you, trust me.”

He leans away, hooking his pinkie into the handle of the bag and shakes it a bit, “Eat and get some sleep, okay? Don’t go thinking too much.”

You wait until he’s down the hall and out of your sight to head inside. Kicking your shoes off, you flick on the lights and drag your feet to your small kitchen. You dig through the bag in search of your ramen, finding the chocolate popsicles Jungkook bought you.

Maybe you should talk to Yoongi about that marriage plan of yours. Just so that you’d have something to fall back on, so that later down the road when you’re sixty you’d have grandkids running around and not a few cats instead.

There’s a loud banging on your door that jolts you out of your sleep the next morning. The blackout curtains you’d bought a couple weeks ago were working, you have no idea what time it is. You also have no idea when you’d gotten to bed either, you remember eating the ramen and one of the popsicles.

You remember hearing Yoongi come home, the opening and closing of his door and the clink of his keys against the little bowl with the cat on it that you gave him.

You don’t remember much else, you certainly don’t remember crawling into bed or changing your clothes for that matter.

You groan as the pounding continues, rattling into the empty hallways of your sleepy mind and knocking on every door. Rolling over you pull your pillow with you, covering your head and willing the noise to end. Squinting at the little blue clock on your nightstand and the numbers that squint back, you lay there wondering who’d be knocking on your door this early on a Saturday.

“Police! Open up! I’ve got a warrant.” Jungkook’s muffled, disembodied voice filters through your apartment and you sigh, kicking at your covers because you know if you don’t get up he’ll stand there and ring your phone until you pick up.

Grumbling to yourself, you drag your feet to your front door and open it. Jungkook’s standing there with one hand raised, looking ready to knock again and too bright eyed for the hour. His other hand balances a coffee holder with four cups and a large brown bag.

“Don’t you have practice to get to? It’s seven am.” you step aside to let him in, covering your yawn with a hand.

“Good morning to you, too.” Jungkook rolls his eyes, wiggling the brown bag at you – the brown bag that’s doing a great job of concealing its contents. “I brought breakfast.”

You’re moving to close the door when a hand stops the motion and Hoseok’s poking his head into your entrance hallway.

His eyes are bright, even though he’s not a morning person, and his smile is brighter when he sees you, as it always is. He pushes the door open as you step back to allow it, coming in to wrap his lanky arms around you. “Heard your night sucked ass.”

His fingers tangle in the mess that is your bed head, but he doesn’t let go of you even as he tries to free them. He rubs circles into your back, and sighs, “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” You laugh into his sweatshirt, the old one he kept from college even though it’s fraying at the edges and the blue isn’t as blue anymore. The one you threw up on the night Yoongi lost you in a crowd of college freshmen and you didn’t know your ass from your elbow.

“Someone has to, you know?”

Yoongi’s the last to come through your open doorway, shutting the door behind him, looking like he’d barely slept, dark hair sticking up at odd angles.

He frowns at you both, “Guys, c’mon. You’re blocking the way.” He pushes lightly at Hoseok’s back, making him walk forward still clinging to you.

“You’re gonna make me trip!” You laugh, trying to wiggle your way out of his hold. When you’re free of Hoseok’s cuddling, you trail after Yoongi and into the kitchen where Jungkook’s pulling carefully wrapped bagels out of the bag.

“What’s the catch, Jeon?” You ask, knowing that he should be on his way to practice right now. Not that you don’t trust the guy, it’s just that normally if Jungkook has practice, you won’t see him until it’s over and he’s back in the building.

“Can’t I just be nice and bring my best friend breakfast from her favorite cafe?”

“There’s always a catch.” Yoongi says as he plops down into a chair at your small kitchen table and Jungkook makes an offended sound at the back of his throat. Yoongi shrugs, pulling a coffee free from the holder and passes it to you.

“What do you need this time?” Taking the coffee from Yoongi, you take the seat next to him and Jungkook gives you one of the bagels.

“Can you drive me to practice today?”

Hoseok ruffles your hair as he passes, leaning around Jungkook to grab a coffee and a bagel for himself while Jungkook neatly folds the brown bag. “I’d take him but I gotta be at the studio in an hour...”

You hum waving a hand, “No worries.”

It’s ten am by the time you return back to your apartment. You’d stopped at the grocery store to pick up things you needed and had no choice but to lug all the bags up at once.

You would’ve liked to make trips, which you would usually do going up and down the elevator and getting weird looks from old Mrs Bailey two floors down. The elevator was once again getting serviced and you curse the stupid machine to the high heavens.

You take one step at a time, the weight of the bags digging uncomfortably into your fingers. You’re sure they’re red by now and you groan thinking about the way they’ll cramp up when you put the bags down.

“Need help?”

You almost drop your bags, body jerking in place as you stop to look behind you.

Seokjin is standing a few steps down on the platform between the flights, and you find it just a bit strange that you hadn’t heard him; footsteps echo in the stairwell. You don’t think much of it though; Yoongi walks like a cat and you can never tell when he’s behind you either.

You look down at the bags in your hands, giving Seokjin a light smile. “Yes please.”

He jogs up the remaining stairs to meet you, and you envy the bounce of his dark hair that falls perfectly back into place. He’s dressed more casually today, with a loose white tee-shirt tucked into black jeans. He gently takes the bags from one hand and reaches for the other.

“Oh, I’ve got these.” You chuckle the sound awkward to your own ears and you want the floor to open up and swallow you. Seokjin thankfully says nothing of it, though.

“Which floor are you on?”

“The one above us.”

“Oh really?” Seokjin smiles at you and waves his free hand, “Howdy neighbor.”

You blink at him, a little confused, “Huh?”

“I moved in this morning!” He’s already walking up and you step quickly to follow. “you know the apartment just before the staircase?”

“That’s great! It’s been empty for years. Hobi thinks it’s haunted because he says he keeps hearing noises.”

Seokjin laughs at that, the sound bouncing off the walls of the stairwell. His laugh’s kind of squeaky and it makes you laugh, too.

You both share a light conversation going up the last staircase, and it isn’t as awkward as you thought it’d be. It’s certainly better than last night when you tripped over your tongue just to say hi back.

Seokjin’s presence is oddly calming. Despite being a stranger, it feels as though you’ve been friends for a while. He’s telling you about how he’s planning on decorating his apartment while walking to yours, and asking your opinion on paint colors.

“White always makes a room look bigger. Could be too plain though, if you’re not into that.” You say, fishing your keys from the pocket of your jeans. He places the bags at your feet when you asked him to, “Thank you,”

“No problem,” He gives a smile, a small one that puffs up his cheeks. “Well...I better get going...lots to do.”

“Of course! Bye then.”

“If I don’t see you around, I’ll see you square.” With a very serious expression, Seokjin shoots you some finger-guns before walking away, laughing at his own joke.

You shake your head, chuckling to yourself as you unlock your door.

You throw yourself on Yoongi’s couch, which by the way, was way bigger than yours and way more comfortable.

You groan into the throw pillow, smacking your hand against the cushions. “Yoongi. You traitor. Who’s hand am I supposed to hold now?”

“Hobi’s always available for hand holding.” Yoongi mumbles, barely paying you mind as he gets ready to go out on a date. A Date! How dare he.

“His hand doesn’t get sweaty like yours does!” You turn your head, pressing your cheek against the pillow, “This is absolute betrayal. I’ll never ever forgive you.”

“Quit being dramatic.” Yoongi sighs, fastening the clip of a silver chain around his neck. You pout at him from your spot. “It’s only the first date. If it falls through you’re welcome to hold my hand for the rest of our lives.”

Yoongi doesn’t date often, you honestly can’t remember the last time he even mentioned having one to begin with. You kinda feel bad about your whining, only because you feel bad that everyone’s suddenly finding significant others while you suffer.

“I’m joking.” You say, sitting up, “You’ll be fine.”

“Thanks.” Yoongi smiles, all cute and gummy. “Now get out, I’m leaving.” He helps you up off the couch, grabbing his keys from the coffee table.

“You’re so rude!” You trail after him anyway, following him out his apartment. As he locks his door you poke his side, “What’s her name anyway?”

“Justine.” He glances at you, “Jungkook didn’t tell you? She’s on his archery team.”

“You met her through that rascal?” You scoff, crossing your arms, “You guys never tell me anything. When did you even have time to meet them?”

“Hey, I do other things when I’m not hanging out with you.” He walks you to your door, patting his pockets to make sure he has everything. “I’ll call you if I need to make a run for it.”

“Just go!” You push at his arm, waving goodbye, “Let me know how it goes!”

Yoongi’s in the elevator when he finally waves back, and you stay standing there long after the metal doors shut. Staring at your door, you sigh, you’re happy for him, really. Everyone else shouldn’t suffer with you.

“Hello.”

You startle, a frightened screech leaving you as you turn. The person behind you yells, too, backing away from you with wide eyes.

You press a hand to your chest and take a deep breath, “Dude. My heart almost fell out of my ass. Why are you sneaking up on me?”

“Why’d you scream like that? You scared me!” Seokjin presses his back against the wall behind him, a hand against his chest also.

He relaxes, hands dropping at his sides, and you do the same, laughing a bit at the situation.

“Did you need something?” You ask, watching as he steps closer.

“Actually.” He puts a finger up, “I came to make you an offer you can’t possibly refuse.”

“Huh?”

Seokjin straightens his form, smiling again, “I can help you.”

You blink, looking off to the side before your eyes settle on him again, “....help me with?”

Seokjin looks a little confused now, brows furrowing and he puts his hands behind his back and chuckles. “Your problem.”

When you stare at him blankly he sighs, “I can help you find the one you’re destined for.”

“Are you drunk?”

“What? No. I’m not drunk. I’m being serious!” He says, shaking his head, “Why do I always have to do this? I hate this part.”

He’s talking to himself now, and you’re trying to slot your key into your lock without him noticing. Maybe he is drunk, or maybe he’s one of those salespeople who try to talk you into buying shady things.

He suddenly looks at you and you freeze, giving a slow, awkward smile. “Um. Whatever it is... I’m okay. You should go lie down or something.”

“I’m not drunk.” Seokjin repeats, “Your friend went out on a date right? I saw him on the way up.”

That’s weird. Yoongi only left a few minutes ago, if Seokjin took the stairs there’s no way he would’ve seen him.

“I can help you with that. Getting a date, I mean.”

“Are you asking me out?”

“Not me, no.” He seems to think for a moment, “I’m actually the only person that can help you. I’m a Cupid. And it’s my job to steer you in the right direction so you can find that person.”

You laugh and he frowns, but what else are you supposed to do? He looks completely serious, and you wave a hand at him.

“Okay.” You say even though you don’t believe him, giving him a thumbs up, “That’s nice. I’m gonna go...and you can go lay down, okay?”

You turn quickly, opening your door and slipping inside. You leave him standing there, shutting the door behind you.

“...oh-kay...”

“I’m so tired.” You press your forehead against the cool wooden table. This isn’t really the way you’d like to spend your Monday afternoon, sitting in a café trying to finish up an article due next week.

The café you frequented is a bit crowded today, some either coming in to get their fix of hot drinks to battle the autumn chill outside, or either just taking in the scenery. There really isn’t much to take in, the cafe is a small hole in the wall on a street corner, with wet roads and people passing by outside.

There’s a park across the street that looks better in the spring, empty now that it’s getting colder and winter’s on the cusp.

You raise your head to stare at your half completed article. Cursor blinking mockingly against the white backdrop of the open word document. At least it’s due by next Friday, you have time to wallow in the writer’s block that’s been plaguing you for days now.

You stare out the window and sigh, watching the people and the cars pass by, watching the light rain that’s been doing nothing but falling all morning. You thought that getting out of your apartment would’ve been better, a change of scenery to help you finish your work. Now that you’re sitting in this crowded café, it’s difficult to concentrate, you don’t know how the college kids do it.

You’re quite bored by yourself, usually, your friend from work, Brinny would be with you. If you’re not working, you could at least pass the time with some gossip or some sort of stimulating conversation. Brinny had to be at the office today, and honestly didn’t have time to meet with you, so you’re stuck struggling alone.

“Y/n?”

You turn your head at the call of your name, the barista behind the counter is waving you over. “Your coffee’s ready.”

Getting up, you hobble over, reaching the counter to take your coffee. The barista smiles at you, closed lipped with dimples you want to sink your fingers into.

Namjoon was new, and you’re glad to see he’s getting the hang of things. You’ve seen the guy spill more coffee beans than he grinds and he’s burned himself so many times that you’ve been permanently worried.

You’ve also seen him staring, always when he thinks you’re not looking. You’ve had a few conversations with him on days when the cafe isn’t so busy, he’d always have some quote from a writer you’ve never heard of or he’d talk to you about art. He’s nice.

He’s cute. Even as he fumbles now to let you know that he put an extra shot of espresso in your coffee because you look tired.

You thank him with a sweet smile before going back to your seat, hoping to remember to leave him a tip.

You sit, squinting at the time displayed on the clock widget of your laptop screen, glancing over at Namjoon again who’s busy behind the counter. Maybe you should take matters into your own hands and just ask him out. Might lead somewhere, hell, you might even have a great time.

“I mean...”

Your head whips around to the person who’s suddenly sitting opposite you. Seokjin looks fashionable in a black coat over a white turtleneck sweater as he pulls a burgundy scarf from around his neck. He’s looking at Namjoon too, squinting at the man. “He’s nice and all but it won’t work out, trust me.”

“Are you stalking me?” You ask, still a little shocked because you didn’t see him approach, you didn’t even hear the chair move. He’s just there.

Seokjin chuckles deeply, the sound a far cry from his high laugh. He turns to look at you, “Me? No. I was just passing by and saw you. Thought I should say hi.”

“Hi. You can go now.”

“Wow.” Seokjin presses a hand to his chest, faux hurt morphing his features, “You wound me.”

“Seriously. Why are you here? Because it kinda looks like you’re stalking me.” You lean back into your chair, crossing your arms.

Seokjin tilts his head at you, expression serious as he simply stares. His eyes are intense, like the night you met him and you know that the shiver that runs through you isn’t from the cold; the café is warm.

“I’m honestly trying to help you.” He says after a while, expression unchanging.

“Right. ‘Cause you’re Cupid?”

“A Cupid. We are many.” He corrects you, putting a finger up. “Trust me, asking Namjoon out is gonna do more harm than it’s worth. Some things are just meant to happen in passing.”

You sigh harshly through your nose, closing down your laptop to stare at him without it in the way. “Listen.”

“You had a really great opportunity to say “Lend me your ear!”. I find that wording more effective in catching my attention, but I digress; speak away.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath as his laugh fills the silence between you. Funny, just Saturday morning you were thinking he was kind of cute with his stupid jokes and his finger-guns and his stupid laugh. Now he’s getting on your nerves and he’s beginning to give you the creeps with how persistent he is about this Cupid thing.

It's always the pretty ones.

“Okay, look.” You raise a hand because you can see he’s about to open his stupid mouth to say something even more stupid. He gives you his full attention, leaning in a bit like he’s waiting to hear the secret to DaVinci’s code. “Do you...perhaps have a psychiatrist I can call for you? Or a guardian?”

His expectant expression drops, he looks agitated now and you’ll take that as a small victory. “I’m not craz....” Trailing off, he slumps back into his seat, “I give up. Why do I always get stuck with the stubborn ones? I’m just trying to do my job.”

He’s talking to himself again, loud enough for you to hear him. He waves a hand at you, looking out the window petulantly, “Do as you wish. Ask him out. I’ll be swinging by to say ‘I told you so’ when it crashes and burns.”

“You know. You definitely can’t be Cupid with that attitude.”

“A Cupid. It’s not just me.” He huffs, sucking his teeth, “Why am I even still here talking to you?”

“I could ask you the same thing, really.”

Seokjin side eyes you, slowly turning his head in a way that you decided at that moment was quite unnatural. There’s something weird about the motion, he’s weird, and that’s all there is to it. He’s no Cupid, and honestly kind of curious about what made him think he was.

“Go for it then.” He waves a hand in Namjoon’s direction, “Don’t let me stop you.”

You feel petty, but you also feel the indescribable need to prove him wrong, so you get up, chair scraping against the floor. “Fine. Watch me.”

Seokjin gives you an unimpressed look, sighing as though you’re the one making his life difficult.

You march your way over to the counter, now that the rush died down, Namjoon’s just sitting idly in a corner, phone in hand. He looks up at your approach, smiling sweetly.

“Hey, need something?” He asks, getting up from the chair he occupied to meet you at the counter.

“Um..” Abort. Abort! Namjoon is looking at you patiently, waiting as you wipe your suddenly sweaty hands on your jeans. You take a breath, “Are you free on Friday?”

“Huh? Y-yeah. I could be?” He looks just as nervous as you do, another small victory; you’re not alone! “Why?”

“I was thinking that maybe we can get a drink? If you’re okay with it?”

“Oh! Yeah. I’d like that, yeah. Let me just... I’ll write my number down for you.” Smiling, he goes around to the other end of the counter, looking for a paper to write on before giving up and grabbing a napkin.

You turn, ready to rub your pettiness into Seokjin’s face but he’s gone. And so is your coffee.

“Dude I mean...are you sure?” Yoongi looks skeptical, raising a dark brow at you as he wipes down a table. He settles chairs into their rightful spots, stuffing napkins into the fancy napkin holders. “Last week you were literally ready to cry over a failed date and you asked a guy out?”

“I was not.” You say, “Water on a duck’s back my friend. This guy’s actually nice, and I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t go off with some other chick halfway through our date.”

“Well, I thought that you’d just give it a bit of time before going again.” He pauses to look at you, halfway across the empty bar, folding the cloth he was using. “I know you want what everyone else seems to be getting – I’ve noticed it too, lots of couples running around like it’s valentines or something. But I think you should just wait it out.”

“Yoongi.” You whine his name, laying your head against your arm. “I’m not getting any younger.”

“I know.” Yoongi smiles at the offended sound you make, “Everything happens on its own time, sweetheart. Just gotta be patient. Wait a little.”

“But what if I just wait forever?” You mumble, picking at the skin around your fingernails.

“I didn’t say it for you to get sad, you know.” Yoongi walks over to you, he smiles gently, “If you wait forever then I’ll meet you at the end. You can hold my hand while we wait together..” He offers his hand to you, wiggling his fingers.

You give a watery laugh, taking his hand with a sniffle, “That was so corny.”

“Tell anyone and I’ll kill you.”

When seven pm rolls around you’re sitting at the bar, sipping on a rum coke that Yoongi gave you to calm your nerves.

The bar’s a little quiet, but you know that it’ll get rowdier as the hours go on. Yoongi’s sitting opposite you, picking at his nails in his boredom.

“I hope tonight doesn’t get busy. Hobi couldn’t come out cause he has some dance things to finalize...”

“It’s Friday, though...” You point to the door with a tilt of your head as a group walks in. Looking fresh out of the office in their business suits and briefcases. Yoongi sighs, hopping off his stool to go greet them.

You spot Namjoon coming through the door next, pulling headphones out his ears and smiling when he sees you. He reaches you in a few long strides, sitting next to you with a soft greeting.

You catch Yoongi’s double take, and the raise of his eyebrows but think nothing of it.

In the hour that goes by, the bar picks up and Yoongi has company behind the counter. Namjoon has you giggling and blushing every time he looks at you, you’d like to think this is going well.

You do the normal routine, getting to know each other, trading jokes. He’s easy to talk to and you like that.

He and Yoongi go way back – Or so he’s told you. You didn’t know this, but when does Yoongi actually tell you anything? – and they make easy conversation while he works. You’re not getting the looks Yoongi keeps trying to send you, though. You’re usually in tune with each other’s signals, but Yoongi’s been sending up smoke all night, because what does he even mean?

“You guys need anything?” Yoongi comes over for the third time, nodding at your empty glass.

“I’m good, thanks.” You wave him away, why’d he keep interrupting?

Yoongi sighs, moving away to help Jimin bring out more glasses from the back room.

“This was nice. I don’t get out much...” Namjoon says, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand. “I uh...wanted to ask you something...”

“Sure, what’s up?”

Namjoon looks a little nervous, playing with his fingers. “You know, last week when you came to the cafe? It was Wednesday, I think... You came with someone... Brunette about yay high?”

You know who he’s talking about before he actually asks. You sip on your rum coke just so you’d have something to do, watching as Namjoon gives a height estimate with a hand.

“You mean Brinny? Yeah...she works with me.”

You don’t blame him, Brinny’s a darling, an absolute angel. You feel like a complete clown, though. Maybe you’re cursed, or maybe you’ve pissed off some wrathful god in your past life.

You didn’t mean to visibly deflate, really you didn’t , but honestly, you’re tired. You feel like you’re stuck in an endless loop of ‘yeah, this isn’t gonna work out.’.

Namjoon pauses, eyes widening, “Oh God. This wasn’t a date was it?”

Ah, ignorance is bliss indeed. He looks genuinely worried, a crinkle between his brows as they furrow. Eyes round and a hand reaching out hesitantly, like he’s not sure he’s allowed to touch you even if he seeks to comfort you.

“What?” You snort, smacking his arm playfully. It’s the only way you can ease out of it so you don’t burst into tears in front of him. “No way! You’re a cool guy. I can totally put in a good word for you. Brinny’s nice.”

If Namjoon isn’t convinced - and you’re pretty damn sure he isn’t – he doesn’t show it. He nods slowly, smiling a little – a lot – awkwardly at you before throwing back the whiskey in his glass.

“Hey, slow down a bit, yeah?” Yoongi covers the top of your glass with a hand, frowning at you. You stare at his hand, at the rings that glint in the soft lighting of the bar with a pout. He quickly pulls it to him when you reach for it and instead passes you a bottle of water. “Drink this, sober up.”

“D’wanna.” You slur, leaning forward to press your forehead against the cool bar top. Yoongi taps your arm, and you make a disgruntled sound at the back of your throat raising your head with some effort. You prop your chin in your palm and blink slowly at him. “I wanna not exist right now. I’m so embarrassed!”

“It wasn’t that bad.” Yoongi scoffs, twisting the cap off the bottled water, he presses it firmly to your hand. The bar eventually died down, unusual for a Friday but you’re thankful. A whole lot less people to witness your downward spiral into self pity with the help of Yoongi’s fancy drinks. “I swear I thought you knew. I was trying to tell you.”

“What am I supposed to do with your blank ass stare, Min Yoongi?”

“Just drink the water.”

Yoongi leaves you be, walking away to greet someone that waved him over. You stare at the bottle with a frown before picking it up and downing nearly half. “Cupid must be on a holiday or something.”

“I wish.” Seokjin plops himself onto the barstool next to you, and you groan, because he’s the last person you want to see. You hadn’t seen him all week since you asked Namjoon out for drinks, you were just starting to get comfortable. “I could be somewhere nice and sunny right now. Instead I’m stuck looking after you.”

“How are you literally appearing out of nowhere?” You ask, a little sober now, enough to question the way he just randomly popped in.

“I’ve been trying to tell you, but all you do is call me names and hurt my feelings.” Seokjin rolls his eyes, “Enough about me though, I want to hear about your date.” He gives a cocky smile and you really want to punch it right off his pretty face.

“There’s nothing to tell.” You grumble, and Seokjin chuckles.

“I told you so.” He says, shrugging, “You wouldn’t listen.”

“That was a coincidence.” Your throat burns.

“Or was it?” Seokjin nudges your shoulder with his, “Why are you so stubborn?”

“Why are you so annoying?” You fire back and he purses his lips, raising a perfect brow at you. “I really think you’re stalking me. How’d you know I’d be here?”

“I was just passing by.”

“Right.” You huff, rolling your eyes before leaning forward, “I’m gonna be alone forever.”

“Well, if you’d let me actually do my job you won’t have to worry about that.”

Something hot is burning behind your eyes, throat tightening. You’re once again asking if you’re doing something wrong. You don’t get it, you’re a damn catch! Anyone would be lucky to have you.

You sniffle, swirling the water around in the bottle as tears blurs your vision.

“Please don’t cry.” Seokjin says, but it’s not at all comforting. It comes out in a ‘Are you serious?’ kind of way that only makes you want to cry even more, so you hop off the stool, shooting Yoongi a text on your way out of the bar.

You’re quite aware of Seokjin trailing behind you like he’s got nowhere else to be. Your phone vibrates somewhere in the depths of your bag but you ignore it, promising that you’ll just let Yoongi know when you get home.

“Can you stop following me?” You stop, turning around to face Seokjin.

“We live in the same apartment building!” He points in the direction you’re walking, rolling his eyes, “Is it a crime to go home now?”

“Well can you at least not walk so damn close to me? You’re giving me the creeps.” Turning on your heel you continue walking, and thankfully, Seokjin doesn’t follow until you’re at least five steps ahead.

“My offer still stands, you know!” There’s no reason for him to shout, but he’s doing it anyway. “This’ll keep happening if you don’t accept it!”

You stop walking again, bowing your head to stare at the concrete below your feet. His footsteps slow and stop too, waiting.

“If...If I say yes. Would you leave me the hell alone?” You sigh, looking over your shoulder at him. He’s standing a few steps behind, hands in the pockets of his coat.

“No, but I can leave you alone for the rest of the night if you want.”

You tilt your head back, looking up at the overcast sky. Hoping for it to open up and give you the answer to all your problems. Honestly, what do you have to lose? Best that could happen is that he actually leaves you alone after this and you can go back to figuring it out on your own. Even though you’d already tried that and well...yeah.

“Fine.” You mutter softly, and Seokjin jogs over to you quicker than you can make sense of his movements. “I accept your stupid offer.”

“Finally.” Seokjin smiles, prettily, the glow of the street lamp looks like a halo above his head and for a second, you really believe that he’s an angel. He sticks out a hand, “You have to shake on it.”

“Are you serious?” You deadpan, staring at his hand as though it offended you.

“Yes.” There’s mirth in his eyes and you think he’s pulling your leg, but you shake his hand anyway. “Great! I’ll see you in the morning then.”

You look down at your hand as he walks away, grimacing, “You’re so weird.”

When you look up, Seokjin is gone and you’re standing on the sidewalk completely alone.

::

True to his word, you didn’t see Seokjin for the rest of the night. You’d gotten home, stared at his closed door for a while, having half a mind to knock and ask exactly what you’d gotten yourself into.

You thought that, yes, finally, he’ll leave you alone for good. That today when you had woken up bright and early, you’d be able to get some work done, maybe even clean up the apartment a bit.

You couldn’t be happier to work from home, even though it offers more distractions than you're able to deal with, it’s better to write from the comfort of your own home.

Though, Monday you had to be in the office to discuss some things with your team manager. You know that he’s going to ask about how your article is coming along, so you want enough of it finished by then.

You’re sipping on your coffee, content to watch the world wake up from behind your window, and there’s someone knocking at your door.

Sighing you place your cup on the coffee table, taking your sweet time to walk even as the knocks get insistent. You’re expecting Jungkook at the other side, or Yoongi coming over to give you a piece of his mind for bailing on him last night.

It’s just Seokjin, though. Standing there in black track pants and a white sweater, dark blue recurve bow in hand.

“Isn’t that dangerous to walk around with?”

“Not unless you’re my target.” Seokjin smiles, “Get ready, you’re coming with me.”

“I don’t think so, I have a lot of things to do today.”

“You really don’t.” He taps your forehead with a finger, but you’re not quite sure what he means by that. “Please hurry. I don’t want to be late.”

He races back down the hall, stopping to knock on Jungkook’s door before heading to his own apartment.

::

“Tell me again why I needed to drive you two?” You grumble, car slowing to a stop in the parking lot of Straight Arrow Archery Center. Jungkook gets out with a quick thanks, jogging through the parking lot.

“So I can start today, the quicker I get this done, the quicker I’ll be out of your hair.” Seokjin takes his time getting his things from the backseat, “C’mon.”

He waits until you're out of the car, rocking back on his heels before he marches across the parking lot. You’re following with quicker steps, trying to keep up with his longer strides.

The local archery range was owned by their coach, and they practice indoors when they’re not in the back field during the colder months. A big looming building, with large windows and chipping paint. You’ve only been inside a couple of times, once when Jungkook’s team was going against a team from the city over.

The heat’s blasting in the building, and you rub your hands together to help them warm up faster. Seokjin leads you through the front entrance of the building, where they have different types of bows mounted on the walls. There’s a board behind the counter, pinned full of photos of past teams and flyers about the center and archery safety.

The back room where the range actually is, some of the archers are taking practice shots or sitting against the back wall getting ready. You see Jungkook securing his quiver to his waist, joking with some of his teammates.

“Are you any good?” You ask Seokjin just to taunt and he purses his lips at you, leading you over to one of the many benches scattered around the range.

You sit and watch him set his bow up, attaching the stabilizers, sight and clicker to the front of the bow. He slips the chest guard over his head, sliding his arm through the loop, when he’s securing the arm guard against his forearm he finally answers you.

“I can shoot an apple off your head blindfolded.” He winks, “If you get hungry or anything, there’s a vending machine outside.” With that he jogs off at the call of the coach, the rest of the team following behind.

“Alright you guys, we all know that winter’s coming up, so we have a couple of weeks left to train up for the last competition. After that, we have some time off before the regionals in February.” The coach says, clapping her hands, “So! During these last weeks, I’ll be picking six of you for the competition!”

You watch on, genuinely interested in what’s being said. Jungkook had mentioned regionals a few times, talking about his excitement and nerves. The coach goes on a moment more about what she expects from her team and a few changes for meeting dates.

“Alright, let’s do our best today!” She says, waving them off, “Teams of three please. Seokjin, you’re up first.”

You perk up more, eyes following Seokjin’s movements as he stands behind a marker taped to the ground. He pulls an arrow from the quiver at his hip, the fletching and nock a shimmering gold that catches the overhead lights. He nocks the arrow, pulling the string back to his cheek and aims.

When he releases, you barely see the arrow cut through the air, you only hear the sharp whistle and the dull thump of it hitting the target dead center. The team claps and you’re not far enough to miss their mutterings as Seokjin walks forward to retrieve his arrow.

“He’s so cool!”

Half an hour later, you’re scrolling through your phone, finally answering the million and one texts Yoongi sent you last night.

Seokjin’s skill with the bow honestly surprised you, the way he’d nock and fire off arrows with inhuman precision was actually terrifying. It almost had you believing his little tirade, just almost, you’d yet to be convinced by his claims of being Cupid.

Part of you does believe him, though, as much as you’d hate to even think it. There’s just something strange about him. The way he’d seemingly appear from nowhere, disappear without a sound and – you truly believe that it was a coincidence – the way he knew that pursuing Namjoon would not be in your favor. There’s honesty in his eyes when he speaks of it, either you’re easy to be swayed or he honest to God believes he’s Cupid.

A Cupid, your mind berates and you scowl, shaking your head.

“I didn’t think you’d stick around.” Jungkook sits on the bench next to you, digging around his duffle bag, “I can take the bus back you know?”

“I know, I’m actually waiting for Mr Sharpshooter over there.” You wave your hand in a vague direction, not too certain where Seokjin was standing.

Jungkook nudges your shoulder, “I see how it is.” He wiggles his eyebrows, “I’m definitely taking the bus home.”

“Now why would you say that?” You raise a brow, pocketing your phone, “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not that.”

“Sure it isn’t.” He over exaggeratedly winks, quieting to unwrap a sandwich and take a bite. “He’s pretty cool, though. I approve. He’ll have a hard time with Yoongi though...” He says through his mouthful, brows creased - a little angrily - as he chews.

“There’s nothing to approve!” You push his shoulder while he laughs, almost choking on his sandwich. “Kook. Can I ask you something?”

“Hm, yeah. What’s it?”

“Have you actually ever spoken about Seokjin before?” You think about how strange it is, Yoongi mentioned that Jungkook’s spoken of Seokjin before. Now that you’ve asked the question, you realise that you’ve never once heard of him. Most of the time if you’re not by yourself, you’re with the guys, and they aren’t usually by themselves either. Though, it could be nothing, could have been a conversation you weren’t privy to, just something you missed.

Jungkook rarely talks about his practices, unless something big happens, like the regionals announcement or when he wouldn’t let you, Yoongi or Hoseok forget that he fired the winning arrow during the summer semi’s even though you were all there to witness it. Seokjin’s never once come up, you don’t think.

You don’t remember seeing Seokjin in the times you’ve visited the Range or at any of the competitions, though, he seems to be well acquainted with everyone, and no one thinks it’s strange.

Jungkook stops mid bite, brows furrowing out of confusion now – and not because he really likes his sandwich – he nods, slowly.

“Yeah? I think so...” He doesn’t sound as though he believes his own words, “Yup, yeah. Definitely did.” He nods more surely, “....I think?”

“Are you sure? Because...”

“Bad mouthing me? I’ve only been gone thirty minutes, that’s rude.”

You look up to find Seokjin watching you with a raised brow. He unclips the belt at his waist to remove the quiver before he sits down, squinting at you. “What?”

“Nothing...it’s nothing...” You quickly look back to your phone, replying to Yoongi’s recent text.

“I’m gonna get something to drink from the vending machine, want anything?” Jungkook asks, shoving the rest of his sandwich into his mouth and dusting his hands, you shake your head and he shrugs, “I’ll bring you back whatever, then.”

With that he leaves, lengthy hair bouncing with his steps as he makes his way out. You could feel Seokjin’s eyes on you and you slowly turn your head to face him, he’s indeed staring at you, in a way that makes you want to squirm and be as far away from him as possible.

“You have questions.” It’s a statement, because he knows.

“A few.” You nod, studying his features. He looks absolutely normal, nothing awry about him in visage. Leaning closer to him you ask softly for the sake of not being overheard. “Are you really a Cupid?”

Seokjin raises an eyebrow, watching you with thinly veiled suspicion, “What brought this on?”

“I’m just really curious.”

Seokjin hums, “I already told you, I am. I was extremely clear. Why? Change of heart? Or are you just trying to appease me by going along with it?”

There’s a hint of bite in his words, and you suddenly remember him saying that he gives up in the cafe, and realize, if he is indeed what he claims, you’re truly making his job harder. He’s like a venomous snake, poised and ready to strike if you misstep.

For a moment, you think it’s best to never get on his bad side if the slight irritation that darkens his eyes makes you feel cornered.

“I was just wondering.” You say, “It’s just strange how you just suddenly- I don’t think Jungkook knows you as well as he thinks. Yoongi definitely doesn’t know you either.”

“Ah.” He sighs, tilting his head curiously, “What I think is strange is that you noticed that.”

“You know... you’re kind of creepy. I think, sometimes it feels as though you’re normal but then it feels odd, like you’re an anomaly.”

“I’ll try not to be. But that’s just your senses telling you what you don’t want to believe.” Seokjin raises a hand to tap your forehead lightly with a finger.

You frown, “I’m not spiritual.”

“You don’t have to be.” He shrugs, “In terms for you to understand, I walk on a higher frequency than you do. Our energies are completely different, and it doesn’t matter if you are consciously aware of it or not, you’re going to realize that.”

“Okay.” You nod, trying to absorb the words that tumbled out of his mouth even though he basically dumbed it down for you. You’re still not certain if you believe what he says or if your mind is protecting you so that you just take it and run. “Why are you helping me?”

It feels silly to ask, but you’d like to think you’re not so deep and lost within the fog of your non-existent love life that a Cupid would take pity on you enough to step in.

“I hate seeing people struggle. It’s just so sad. You humans are like lambs without a shepherd; wandering aimlessly.” He sighs as though he’s in pain, before a smile breaks and his squeaky laugh follows, “I’m joking...partly.”

You roll your eyes, “No really, I want to know.”

“I don’t think you do.” Seokjin shakes his head, mirth lights his eyes still. Though you just stare at him, waiting, and he sighs, “I’m not supposed to tell you, but I suppose I already crossed a million lines telling you I’m a Cupid.”

He taps a finger against his chin, “I’m trying to get a promotion, it’s extremely important that we get this settled.”

“...what?” You frown, narrowing your eyes at him, “Are you joking?”

“I do find myself hilarious, but no.”

“I thought angels wouldn’t lie.”

Seokjin gasps as though you’d offended him, and judging by the look on his face you probably had. “When have I ever lied to you?”

“Just then. I’m supposed to believe that angels have what? A corporate system?”

“First of all, I do not lie. I just omit small things.” He pokes a finger at you and you swat at it. You want to tell him that telling a half lie is just lying while trying to seem truthful. “Secondly, yes. But I can’t tell you anything more on that, so don’t ask.”

You grumble to yourself, leaning back and away in time to spot Jungkook coming back with more than just drinks.

“He’s quite impulsive.” Seokjin chuckles, and you can only agree.

“Where are we going?” You trail behind Seokjin, down a busy street. Once again, struggling to keep up with his long legs.

“I’ve got a few potential candidates for you, all of which can work out though it mostly depends on your choices.” Seokjin slows down for your sake, “I’m not allowed to outright tell you who’s right for you, I can tell you who’s the wrong choice however.”

“Wouldn’t it just be easier if you told me?”

“It would, but it’s against the rules and frankly takes the fun out of everything.”

“You want to see me suffer?” You cross your arms, and Seokjin chuckles, shaking his head as he turns to face you. He plants his hands on your shoulders, hands drifting down to unfold your arms.

“I think you’ve suffered enough. All work and no pl-“ Seokjin pauses, looking past you. The change in his easy going expression is startling, the humor dimming to be replaced by anger, jaw tensing.

You take a half step away from him, wondering what could bring about his change of mood so swiftly. Curious, you turn to look.

A couple stopped just a few steps from you both, they're both dressed warmly to combat the weather. The guy seems a little shocked, enough that the girl you assume is his girlfriend asks him if he’s okay.

He offers her a smile, one that seemed a little nervous to you. He eyes you for a moment, with the same intensity that Seokjin sometimes does, before his eyes settle on the man next to you.

“Hyunjin.” Seokjin says, eyes flaring with something indiscernible. His voice is clipped, stare harsh as he takes a single step forward.

“Seokjin.” The man replies curtly, pulling his girlfriend slightly behind him, “How about we talk about this elsewhere?”

He motions a hand to the people passing by who was paying no mind to either of you. Seokjin turns on his heel, walking briskly and you stumble to follow.

Seokjin is unusually quiet as he leads you through the streets, and you wonder just who Hyunjin is to him for him to react this way.

You pass by familiar places, the café where Namjoon works, and across the street to the park that was suspiciously empty.

You’re afraid to ask Seokjin what the matter was, mindful of the way you can feel the anger radiating off of him. So you keep quiet, stopping when he does, and sitting on the park bench when he tells you to.

He keeps walking, stopping a good distance away, waiting.

Hyunjin sighs, placing a gloved hand against his girlfriend’s cheek. “I won’t be long, okay?”

She nods and he leaves, walking towards Seokjin. As she sits next to you, you offer her a smile, “Sorry, I hope we aren’t interrupting you two.”

“It’s okay.” She says, pushing her glasses back up her nose with a hand. She glances over to where Seokjin and Hyunjin are talking briefly. “Is he your friend?”

You snort, friend is one hell of a reach, “Fortunately not.”

“I’m Nikki.” She offers a hand that you shake.

“Y/n.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Seokjin’s voice raises and both you and Nikki turn toward them, “You can fall for this. She’s human, Hyunjin!”

Hyunjin walks away, leaving Seokjin to gawk in disbelief. They both look angry enough to ignite the air around them, and Hyunjin ignores the call of his name, eyes softening when he lays them on Nikki. She stands at his approach, taking the hand that he offers. He gives you a long look, “I’d let him cool off first.”

You can only nod, voicing a soft goodbye as they leave.Turning your head you watch Seokjin who was too busy staring daggers into Hyunjin’s retreating form.

You give him a moment, waiting until Hyunjin and Nikki are across the street, until they merge into the crowd. You sit quietly, toeing the stone path beneath your shoe, kicking at a pebble and watching it roll its way away from you.

Eventually, Seokjin makes his way back, sitting next to you with a long drawn out sigh. “I have a headache.”

“You get those?” genuinely curious, you ask, but the withering glare Seokjin sends your way makes you snap your mouth shut. “Who is he?”

Seokjin sighs, running a hand through his hair in a way that’s deceptively human. You’re once again jealous of the way the strands fall back into place like they weren’t disturbed, making a note to ask him what shampoo he uses.

“Hyunjin is...” he shakes his head, jaw clenching, “We’ve been searching for him for a year. A guardian angel. That girl is his charge and up until now they’ve both been missing.

He said that he won’t leave her. That he would rather fall because he loves her. Ridiculous. It’s wrong, there’s only one way that could end and it’s not going to be nice. His duty isn't to love her that way.”

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it...” You mutter quietly.

“Of course you wouldn’t. You don’t understand, there’s no way that you can begin to. He’s putting her and himself in danger.”

He quiets and you do too, the air is still charged and Seokjin goes off muttering to himself. You glance at him and you can see that he’s thinking, fingers pressed against his lips as he stares at nothing in particular. It isn’t your business, but you ask anyway, “Are you gonna tell them that you found him?”

“I should.” Seokjin replies after a moment more of silence, “For now, though, I’ll turn a blind eye. I have more important things to do.”

“Right, yeah.” You nod, eyeing him carefully, “What were you saying earlier? Candidates?”

You’re not quite sure how people find watching sports exhilarating. Though, you’re here for Jungkook – and Seokjin - sitting on a bench between Yoongi and Hoseok, cheering as loudly as you can.

Its the last competition before the break, and if the Athens shoot the winning arrow, they’ll be at regionals next year.

You’d wished him and Seokjin luck before they’d left this morning, knowing well the latter didn’t need it at all. You know Jungkook was nervous, you can see him bouncing his leg even from where you are.

“Any bets?” Yoongi nudges your arm with his, passing you a soda, “I hope Jungkook doesn’t drop his bow or anything...”

“Nah, he’ll be fine. Seokjin’s on his team, there’s no way they’d lose.”

“You’ve been hanging out with him a lot.” Hoseok comments, and you spot him dipping his fingers into the pocket of his sweater only to come out with a gummy worm.

You wiggle your fingers at him, he side eyes you but gives you some anyway. “He’s cool.” You shrug, ignoring the soft snort that leaves Yoongi.

“Right.” There’s a knowing look that Yoongi sends you, one that you also ignore.

The teams take turns, women from opposite sides going first, and then the men, all scoring fairly well for their teams. It’s a moment again before the last shooters are ready, and they can either make or break the win.

Five minutes and a couple more gummy worms after, Seokjin is finally stepping up to his marker. If he scores a full ten, the Athens would take the win.

He nocks his arrow the way you’ve seen him done before, and the crowd quiets, waiting with baited breath. He takes aim and your squeezing Hoseok’s hand, he releases the arrow. There’s the sharp whistle, louder that the stands are still, and the sound of it hitting the target.

The folks that came all the way from your city to watch cheers the loudest as Seokjin and his team celebrates the win.

You’re all gathered in your apartment after the match. Though, Everyone had decided that celebrations would wait until the morning, desperate to get home and out of the cold of the winter air and into the warm houses. You just wished someone could convince the archers in your friend group.

Seokjin had insisted on doing something, claiming to be busy the next day. He’d drag you all off to the market, rushing you around to pick stuff from a crumpled list he pulled from the bottom of his duffle bag.

“Hey,” Seokjin says greets softly, passing you an opened beer with a soft smile.

“Thanks” You smile back, because he’ll just nag your ear off until he gets you to smile. Seokjin’s been in the kitchen since you all came back, shooing both you and Yoongi attempting to help, claiming culinary genius.

Your apartment does smell aromatic; filled with a blend of different spices. You know whatever Seokjin’s making is gonna knock your socks off. “You better wow me with your cooking. After you chased me out of my own kitchen.” You tease, and Seokjin chortles.

“Trust me, my cooking is unmatched.” He says confidently, chest puffing up.

You hum around the mouth of your beer, “Uh huh. You’ll have to prove that. No one’s better than Yoongi.”

Seokjin side eyes you playfully, poking at your stomach with a finger that you grab onto, “Yeah, Yeah.”

He quiets, wiggling his finger in your grip, “I wanted to do something nice.”

You make a confused sound in the back of your throat, because what more could he possibly want to do? He’s already helping you find the person you’re meant to be with, and on top of that, have the patience of Mother Theresa and you remain stubborn to a fault. Though, you suppose, he has his nature and you do too.

Hoseok and Jungkook are watching some age old holiday film, not paying mind to either you or Jin. Yoongi had long said he’d be back, though it’s been a half hour with no sign of your grumpy best friend.

“Wanna help me in there?” Seokjin points his thumb over his shoulder, and you raise a brow, “You can help me cut some stuff; I’ve only got two hands.”

“You sure you actually need my help?”

“She’s a disaster in the kitchen.” Yoongi suddenly appears behind Seokjin, a bottle of whisky in one hand and a plastic bag in the other. “I’ll help.”

You make an offended sound, “I’ll have you know that I am great at cutting stuff!”

Yoongi only hums, slinking off like a bored feline into the kitchen. Seokjin pats your head, “You know how to hold a knife, right?”

“Why are you cutting it like that?”

You look down at the cutting bored through the tears stinging your eyes, and you sniffle, “I could barely fucking see. I hate cutting onions.”

Yoongi shoos you away, taking the knife gently from your hold, “Go wash your eyes.”

You shuffle, partly blinded by the sting and tears in your eyes to the sink, arms stretched out before you as your only guide. A warm hand grasps your wrist, leading you forward, “I thought you said you were good at it.”

Seokjin’s voice holds amusement, and you don’t have to see him to know he’s getting a kick out of the situation. You want to tell him that your skill with cutting vegetables and the onion’s rhine burning your eyes has absolutely nothing to do with each other, but you’re too busy trying to find the tap with your hands.

He turns the tap on for you as you lean down towards the flow, and you feel his hands pulling your hair back and out of the way. Sweet relief comes with the cool stream of water rinsing the sting from your eyes, though they’re still irritated enough for you to dig the heels of your palms into them when you straighten. “Onions are evil.”

“Are they?” Seokjin gently pulls your hands away from your face, “Don’t rub them.”

“Tell that the itch driving me up a wall.” You’re a little surprised at how close he is, barely an inch away from you. The rhythmic sound of Yoongi cutting vegetables fades to background noise that you can barely focus on, distracted by Seokjin’s brown eyes peering into yours and the gentle way he swipes his thumbs under your lower lids.

“They’re all red now.” He says softly, and he seems distracted too, eyes filtering away from yours and somewhere lower.

“You guys want me to leave?” Yoongi drawls, effectively breaking the moment, “I can do that you know. Just walk right outta here.” He’s pointing the knife over his shoulder, eyebrow raised, though there’s humour in his eyes.

You pull away from Seokjin’s hands, clearing your throat, “Can I finish cutting the onions now?”

“No, but you can start on the bell peppers for me.” Seokjin hands you a small glass bowl with yellow and red peppers, and you do your best to ignore his fingers brushing yours.

When dinner was ready, the four of you gather at the table, trading laughs and stories and you feel content in this moment. Watching your boys be happy, and Jungkook laughing so hard he chokes only to be scolded by Yoongi. Seokjin next to you, close enough that you can feel the warmth of him.

You wonder how it’ll be once his job’s done and he leaves, would you miss him? He’s still as weird as you thought he was that time you met him in your hallway. You’ll miss his laugh, and the way he can comfort you without trying, you’ll miss him doing his best to make you happy even when he doesn’t have to.

The way he pulled you close when one of your first dates went wrong even with his meddling.

You’ll miss him.

Seokjin’s grown quite fond of you, he thinks, a dangerous thing, he believes. Over the weeks that passed, he’s successfully done his job; setting you on the right track to find your person.

The first couple of dates, Seokjin seeked out people you were familiar with, rather than strangers.

He’d stay close by at all times, observing from a distance. On the days when you’d rather not do anything, Seokjin would meet in your apartment. He’d never tell you that the thing’s you’d have him get up to weren’t what he’d consider fun. He’d go anyway, content to watch you instead of whatever movie you’d convinced him to watch with you.

That’s when he realized it.

Funny, really.

Seokjin has seen love before, as it is, his duty was to bring those who are fated together by a series of coincidences. A meet-cute here, a spilled coffee there, even going as far as to reunite friends who've grown up and apart from each other. He’s seen how love can make people bloom like flowers in the spring, and change like seasons together.

He’s seen love make people go distances they’d have never dared to otherwise. He’s seen it in simple words and touches, grand and minute gestures.

So, Seokjin knows what love is when he feels it. It’s that feeling he gets in his chest when you smile, poking fun at him because there’s always something that’s so distinctively human he would never understand. Strange now that it makes him happy, you’re at a point where you no longer deny him being your friend when other people ask, when you take his teasing in stride like friends do.

You’re happier now, despite the trial and error and the hoops you have to jump through to get where you want to be.

It’s the way your hand felt in his when you held it for the first time. It was after one of your many dates, a Saturday evening when the sun was already dragging the moon into the sky.

First snow, and you’d both sat on swings in an empty park far away from where you’d normally venture. Crystalline flakes fluttered into your hair and melted on your clothes. He’d given you his scarf before you could start to shiver.

He’d been content to watch you then, boots kicking at the snow that was piling up quickly.

Watching the way you found joy in a snowflake landing on your nose, and the way you’d try to catch them with your tongue. On the way out of the park, you held his hand because there was ice on the ground and you didn’t want to slip.

Even through the layer of your gloves Seokjin felt the warmth of your skin. He’s way beyond being flustered by such a thing, but heat climbed his neck and flushed his cheeks and he blamed it on the cold.

Seokjin felt something curl around his heart tightly, and he couldn’t ignore it anymore. He understands Hyunjin now, he thinks, his words play on his mind more frequently these days. Unlike Hyunjin, though, Seokjin is too rooted to his place.

The dangers that would come from you and him being anything more than what you are now are too great for Seokjin to risk it. He knows well what would come of it, and it’s nothing good. You would have to spend the rest of your life hiding from the seeing eyes of others, and the forces that will undoubtedly tear you apart.

Seokjin doesn’t want that for you. You will be more unhappy than you’ve ever been. Forced to remain in shadows even when Seokjin represents a light greater than man could ever create. It would be selfish of him to want it, to go through with it as though he’s not making you suffer.

There’s a lump in his throat as he swallows, as he looks at you now, sitting next to him, with not a care in the world.

You glow brightly, like a star, burning hot in the far distance. Far, far off. And just like a star, you’re something he could never reach, even with all his prowess; you aren’t his to hold.

Though he wants to, and it hurts that he can’t.

“Jin.” You call his name softly, and Seokjin realizes that he’s failed. It’s the first time he’s ever felt so defeated.

He’s seen you, too. The way you’d try to pretend that his feelings aren’t yours as well. He knows. He’s seen love enough to know.

The way you’d flush at your friends’ teasing, but would not deny it. The way you’d watch him as though you’ve found something that you’ve been searching for.

“Are you okay?” Your concerned tone made him realize that he’s turned to look at you, but he’s not said anything. He nods, a little unsurely and you have a right to not look convinced.

You’re different now than you were when Seokjin met you. When he’d planted himself into the memory of your friends for the sake of his task. Truly, he wasn’t supposed to, he was supposed to do his job from a distance, never to interfere. He’s watched you go on date after date and all his arrows would fall short of their target.

So, he did the most sensible thing and got directly involved. He was supposed to be finished already, it was supposed to be quick. He’s lingered too long, and now he's sunk so deeply into clear waters that it's turned to mud. He’s unwilling to lead you to the one you’re destined for – even though he knows who it is – and he’s unwilling to let himself be the one to love you instead.

His duty isn’t to love you, he knows this.

“I’m okay.” Angels aren’t supposed to lie, but he did, and he has been for a while. Trying to convince himself that he wasn’t falling in love with you.

“You’re lying.” You say, knowingly. How far have you come to be able to read him like this?

“I’ve never once lied to you.” Seokjin says, and it’s without his usual mirth. You give him a questioning look and not much else, nodding your head slowly.

“If you say so...”

Seokjin simmers in his thoughts for a while, glancing at you when you laugh at something silly.

“Y/n,” He calls softly, and you hum, turning to face him. Seokjin takes a breath, “I have to leave.”

“Right now? The movie isn’t even finished yet.”

“I know...” Seokjin sighs, running a hand through his hair. He stares at the TV screen, not really paying attention, watching a young girl ride a dragon to a far away place. He never understood your reason for having a TV in your bedroom, but it’s quite convenient for comfort.

He could just leave quietly, slip out of your apartment and out of your life without a word. It doesn’t feel right to do so without telling you, though.

“I won’t be back.” Seokjin waits for his words to settle, as the movie fades to background noise and he watches as realization dawns on you.

“Wait, you’re leaving?” You ask, voice pitching at the end, you stand and he does too, “But you haven’t – You can’t leave.”

“I have to.” He places his hands on your shoulders, trying to calm the storm before it blows in. It’s not helping, he knows, as you take a step back.

“Tell me why.” You demand, and Seokjin sees the tears in your eyes before they fall. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no. You didn’t do anything. It’s me.” Seokjin sighs, “This...this was a mistake. I never should have gotten involved.”

You call his name then, with so much pain that Seokjin feels his heart shatter in his chest. He hates it. He hates that even doing this, he still manages to make you unhappy, he’s the cause of your uneven breaths and the tears that race their way down your cheeks and he hates it.

“I’ll make sure you find them. I promise.”

“But I don’t want that! I love you. You can’t just leave.”

Seokjin lets his hands fall to his sides, staring at a spot somewhere above your head to avoid looking you in the eye. He knows what you want, of course he does, because he wants it to. You've gone and said it and that only makes things harder.

“Y/n.” He says your name firmly, and you snap your mouth shut, shoulders shaking still as you try to put an end to your tears. He takes a step closer, raising a hand to cup your cheek, “We can never be. It’s not meant to be this way.”

“Please don’t go.” You whisper, fingers curling around his wrist. “Please stay.”

His resolve is breaking. The longer he stays the harder it’ll be to walk away. Sighing he wraps his arms around you, holding you as you shatter.

Seokjin presses a kiss to your forehead and your eyes in turn, chasing away the remainder of your tears. There’s sadness still in your eyes when you open them, he tilts your head back to capture your lips softly with his.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He says, wiping away tears that still fall.

“Do you promise?”

Instead of answering, Seokjin kisses you again, hands slipping under the warmth of your sweater to meet your soft skin. He feels the shiver that runs through you, and he wonders if his hands are cold. You call his name softly and he gently quiets you, tugging lightly at the hem of your sweater, “Can I take this off?”

You nod and Seokjin helps you wiggle your way out of it. He doesn’t think of the consequences – he doesn’t want to, so he allows his mind to blank. He’ll give in only this once, he’ll give himself to you for the first and last time, no matter how selfish it seems.

He kisses you slowly, making a map of the marks he leaves against your skin. He wants to tell you everything, he wants to take every step with you, meet you somewhere along a coast where nothing matters. But here, he’ll steal this moment and keep it with him forever, until the pain of it fades and he could look back on it fondly.

He quiets the small sounds you make with his mouth, hands bringing your legs up to wrap around his waist. You fit perfectly below him, like a puzzle piece of a puzzle he’s been trying to find.

He props himself up on his hands, gazing at you, “You’re so beautiful.” He leans down, brushing his nose against you, lips finding yours again.

There’s a storm raging outside, wind sending snow pattering softly against your window. Seokjin tries not to let his mind wander, not when you're beneath him and so warm. Your skin is warm, your scent invades his senses and you’re the only thing he could see and Seokjin feels like crying. There’s something in the back of his mind that’s screaming at him, jarring and loud, that he should savor this moment because he’ll never have it again.

He pulls away from you, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your leggings, “I’m taking these off, okay?”

Your knee nudges his side, “You first. You’re still dressed.”

Seokjin chuckles, quickly pulling his sweater and the tee-shirt he wears over his head, “Now we’re even.”

He stands to step out of his sweatpants, allowing you a moment to strip the rest of your clothes on your own. He settles next to you, fingers tracing patterns against the soft skin of your inner thighs, touching lightly just to watch your eyes flutter shut and your nipples stiffen into peaks when he blows air over them. He marks you with his teeth and his tongue, taking a nipple into his mouth, hand stilling when you raise your hips to meet it.

“Impatient little thing.” He mutters, but cuts your pleading whine short, fingers finding where he knows you want him most, groaning at the wetness he finds. He rubs slow circles against your clit and catches your moans with his lips. When he’s teased you enough, when your desperate moans of his name is enough to make him rut his growing erection against your hip, he sinks his fingers into your heat, thumb never leaving your clit.

He curls his fingers against a spot that makes you cry out, your arousal drips into his palm, and he sucks bruises into the skin of your neck. Seokjin’s hips jerk forward when your fingers curl around his cock, squeezing around the base, “Fuck.”

Your other hand stills his and he pulls away to look at you, pupils blown and eyes heavily lidded, chest rising and falling with your breaths. “Can we just...”

“It’s been a while for you, right?” Seokjin asks softly, slowly resuming the thrust of his fingers, at your nod there’s a smirk on his exhale, “It’ll hurt if I don’t. Gotta stretch you out first.”

He can feel the way your walls tighten and flutter around his fingers, feel the way shudder, moans rising his pitch. “Jin- fuck, I’m so close.”

“Already?” Jin tilts his head, tone teasing. He kisses you, tongue sliding against your own, “Let go for me, baby.”

Your gasp is followed by a drawn out moan, curses and unintelligible words on the end of it. Seokjin watches you tip over the edge, unable to help the motion of his hips thrusting his cock into the loose grip your hand had around it. Removing his fingers from your heat, he lets you catch your breath, pressing a kiss to your temple, “You did so well baby, so good for me.”

Seokjin pulls away, placing a fleeting kiss on your shoulder, “Do you have condoms?” He asks, rubbing a hand on your trembling thigh. He would’ve thought you’d passed out if it wasn’t for the limp way you motion to the bedside table.

You peek an eye at him, “I’m clean if that’s what you’re worried about.” You murmur, and Seokjin smiles, shaking his head.

“That’s good to know sweet girl, but it’s not that. You don’t want what I can give you, trust me.” Seokjin turns to rummage through your things, finding the box tucked into a corner, “It’ll be hell if something unexpected happens. We’ll have a very big problem on our hands.”

“Oh, you mean...”

“Yes. It’s best if we avoid that.” He tears the glossy wrapper with his teeth, moving back to you, he kneels between your open legs. He slides the condom on and you prop up on your elbows to watch, when Seokjin’s eyes flicker up, he could see the hint of worry in yours. He raises a hand to brush your cheek with his fingers, “I’ll go slowly.”

He’s mindful of his size and how long it’s been for you as you settle again, one hand gently gripping your hip, he keeps his eyes on you, watching your every expression. He drags his cock against your sopping cunt, hand holding steady, he leans down to slot his lips to yours, “Ready?” He whispers, waiting until you nod.

A groan leaves him as he enters you, and your fingernails scratches red into his shoulders. He buries his face against your neck, teeth nipping at the skin he could reach, giving slow shallow thrusts until he bottoms out. You’re so warm and tight around him, he takes the calls of his name as prayer, you cling to him as though he’d disappear, and Seokjin thinks that some part of you knows.

Nothing you can say or do will make him change his mind, but he’ll allow you this moment. This moment where it’s just you and him and nothing else, where he can easily show you how he feels without promising anything more.

He thrusts slowly, wanting the moment to last for as long as it can, knowing that he will go on and remember this, and you, when the morning comes you would never know that you’ve loved and been loved.

This way, it’s better, it’ll be easier knowing that one day you’ll find what you need in someone else that isn’t him, without ever knowing what you mean to him at all. Things will return to the way it was meant to be, with him watching from a distance, guiding you in the way he was supposed to from the start.

Seokjin wills the tears behind his eyes to go away, and tells his mind to shut up.

Your name is a sigh on his lips, a prayer that when the time comes he could walk away. Your hips rise to meet his thrusts, and Seokjin loses his fingers in your hair, holding you closer because it’s all he could do as you grow ever tighter around him. He chases his end as you find yours, lips crashing against yours sloppily when he stills, release spilling into the condom.

“Are you okay?” Seokjin asks after a moment, when the room doesn’t feel like a sauna, and he’s finished cleaning you and himself up. Brushing back your hair that hides your eyes from his view, you kiss his palm and Seokjin tries not to let his sadness show in his smile.

“I’m okay. Can we take a shower? I feel gross.” You laugh, already getting up to walk to your closet, you throw a towel at him and he catches it.

“That’s rude, we don’t throw things.” Seokjin trails after you, taking your hand in his because he needs to be grounded right now and not think about what he has to do.

When you stir the next morning, the other side of the bed is cold, but Seokjin’s sitting at your side, brushing your hair away from your eyes.

“You’re still here?” You murmur, smiling sleepily. You open your eyes a bit to see him fully dressed in last night’s clothes.

“I’m here.” Seokjin smiles sadly, massaging your scalp with his fingers, “I have to go.”

You pull away from him to sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes with a hand, “Are you coming back?”

He watches you quietly for a moment before he shakes his head, “I can’t.” He takes your hand and squeezes gently, “This...we can’t.” He sighs, frustrated, knowing what he has to say, what he needs to do.

Seokjin has spent thousands of years watching the rise and fall of mankind over and over, doing his duty as a Cupid to bring those who are fated together. He’s seen heartbreak, he’s seen how it shatters a person’s very being, now he knows what it feels like as he watches tears gather in your eyes because you know, too.

“Don’t go. Please. We can make this work, Jin. Please.” His throat feels tight, something is squeezing his chest and he hates it. He hates that you’re crying because of him, because he’s breaking your heart. “Please stay.”

“I can’t.” Seokjin whispers this, pulling you closer when you reach for him, the sound of your sobs etches into his core and they cut deep. He’s held you, a star, and you’ve burnt him now. Stars burn the brightest as they die, giving their all in the last moment of their lives, and like a star he watches as you implode.

Sometimes though, stars don’t always turn into black holes when they die, sometimes they scatter into matter and burn dimly forever. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Why? Why’d you let me fall for you?” You hiccup, pushing at his chest and Seokjin lets you, letting his hands drop at his side. “You knew that this was going to happen and you let it happen!”

Your tears are angry now, but still so sad, and you slap weakly at his arms. “Why?”

“I’m sorry.” He cups your cheeks with his hands, thumbs catching your tears. He wished it wasn’t this way, he wished that things were different, that maybe, you could’ve met him under different circumstances. That he wasn’t him, but you were still you. He wasn’t expecting it, like most things, it simply happened.

He kisses you while you cry, your fingers curl tightly into the material of his sweater, “I’m sorry. You have to forget me.”

You pull away from him completely, tears flowing faster now, “No.”

“Y/n.” He sighs.

“You can’t do that. What gives you the right?” You escape his reach, moving to the other side of the bed where you get off, turning to face him, “You can leave. You can go and pretend that this never happened. You can’t make me forget, I don’t want to forget you.”

Sighing Seokjin gets up too, walking around the bed to you. You step backwards until you have nowhere to go, back against the wall. “I have to.”

“No, you don’t.”

“So stubborn.” Seokjin clenches his jaw, his head hurts and he wants this to be over. The longer he stands here having this conversation, the harder it will be to follow through. He walks until he’s in your space, hand finding your cheek again. “Why are you always so stubborn?”

“Jin.” You whisper his name and his heart breaks, “Please.”

“Are you ready to spend the rest of your life knowing that we can never see each other again? Knowing me will put everyone you care about in danger. There’s no chance. It’ll break you and I’d rather not have that happen.” Seokjin says, “This was never supposed to happen. We weren’t meant to happen.”

“I don’t want to forget.” You repeat, stubbornly. “Please don’t make me forget.”

Seokjin leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his fingers already at your temple before you have the chance to stop him. He leans away, just watching you, memorizing your features as though he’d ever forget. “I love you.”

You finally quiet, staring at him with wide eyes, “Jin.”

“I’m sorry.” You fall limp and Seokjin catches you before you can hit the floor, holding you to him as the dam breaks and he cries. He cries for the moments he’s shared, the moments you would now live never to remember, he cries because he knows what heartbreak is and he feels it. “I’m sorry. I love you. I’m sorry.”

After he places you back into bed, he makes sure that nothing belonging to him remains. Seokjin walks slowly out of your apartment, looking around at everything because it’s the last time. There’s no way he can come back here, he needs to go as far away as he possibly can.

Softly, he closes your door behind him, and every step he takes he feels as though his heart is being pulled out his chest. He makes it all the way down the hall, and into the elevator when Yoongi steps out of his apartment. He looks at Seokjin for a moment, no sign of recollection whatsoever. The last thing Seokjin before the doors slide close is Yoongi opening yours and going in.

“Y/n. Why the fuck are you sleeping with the window open? Are you trying to get sick?” Yoongi stomps his way into your bedroom, pulling your window shut. He turns to look at you as you sit up, “Hey. Why are you crying? What’s wrong?”

“Hm?” You hum, confused, wiping your fingers under your eyes, “I...I don’t know? Must’ve been a dream?”

“Can you get ready in ten minutes?” Yoongi boldly rummages through your drawers, throwing clothes your way. “The café has deals on donuts and I wanna get some before they sell out.”

He walks to your door, while you sit, still sleepy, still confused. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah...I just...I feel like I’ve lost something.”

Broke your heart? Read the What If sequel drabble - Here

Tagging: @xpeachesncream @bangtansmauyeondan @taestefully-in-luv @blog-name-idk @madbutgloriouspond @euphoricfilter @luaspersona @mssukeyna @matchstick6812 @jinsquishes @allhobbitstoisengard @eren-fall @dontstoptime​ @eoieopda​

[itjazzbicch]

Festivities

Pairing: Yami Sukehiro x Fem Reader

(First time writing Yami, so I hope I did well!) 

Summary: Seeing Charlotte and Vaness trying to impress Yami at the festival makes the reader feel some jealousy considering she also has a crush on him, avoids him, and has an attitude when they do cross paths, but once all alone and called out on her awkward behavior considering they are good friends, the reader shoots her shot...

Warnings:  SMUT (18 + ONLY! MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI!) (Drinking, smoking, fingering, unprotected sex, public (alleyway) sex, swearing)

Word Count: 2.1k 

I DO NOT OWN THIS GIF:

"Hey Captain Y/N! What's the matter? You look so upset!"

I had some great kids on my squad. This festival was their time to go out and have some fun, but they were always checking in on me. I did appreciate it, but closed my eyes in the dark alleyway, blowing out the smoke from my cigarette:

"I'm alright, kid. Don't worry about me. Go enjoy the festival."

"You're lying!" He knew, pointing out, "You only smoke when you're angry or stressed out!"

God damn it, these kids knew me too well. Still, I shook my head:

"It's nothing serious, I promise. Now, go before I put you to work or something."

"You enjoy the festival too, cap!" He insisted, running off and as I finished my cigarette, I thought that maybe he was right.

I know it's so immature, being jealous of Charlotte and Vanessa who were trying to impress Yami. That man sure had a good bit of girls wanting him, sadly I was one of them too.

Maybe some food and a drink would help me out. Stepping out of the alley, that was my first goal, getting the biggest mug of beer someone was selling at their booth, downing it, and hearing as I passed some more booths:

"Try some of our delicious squid!"

"How about some of this!"

Asta and that Bah-ha kid?

Glancing over, there was Jack and Yami, clearly in a competition to sell more food than the other.

"Come on, Captain Y/N! I promise you'll love it!" Asta offered to me, and it was hard to tell him no, I had a soft spot for the kid, but I heard Yami's voice that was directed at Jack:

"Y/N and I are good friends! She knows I can cook!"

"Ha! Yeah right! Y/N and I used to be on the same squad!"

God, Jack and Yami's yelling was starting to give me a headache, chugging down the rest of my beer and thinking about Charlotte and Vanessa again when I saw Yami, I took the meat from that Bah-ha kid, taking a bite and murmured:

"Thanks, kid."

"What the hell, Y/N!" Yami yelled out and I got a chuckle out of that, walking away from their continuous yelling:

"Told you so, Yami!"

Jack managed to surprise me with his food. It was impressive considering that he made it, finishing it and while exploring more of the festival, my attention was grabbed when I heard a while later:

"Charlotte and Vanessa are having a drinking contest!"

I had to get a peek at that, seeing them both face down on the table meanwhile, neither one of them had finished a single glass.

"How pathetic," I took this as a chance to one-up them, heading to the table and downing drink after drink, having the crowd that was watching cheer, wiping the foam off my face as I finished the very last one, "That's how you drink, ladies."

In the crowd, I saw Yami. Some chatter I heard when I first came over made it clear that those two girls were trying to out-drink each other to impress him. Well, now I was the one standing tall, laughing while I took a cigarette, lighting it up, and heading off considering the star ceremony was soon:

"Thanks for the free drinks, chumps."

"Hey Y/N-" Yami's voice trailed behind me, but I didn't bother to stop, only reminding him:

"Shouldn't you be going to the castle for the ceremony? Better move your ass."

That stopped him in his tracks for a change, not caring and heading over for the ceremony. Truthfully, I barely paid attention. All those drinks were starting to catch up with me and there was something about Black Bulls getting second place. Who would've guessed?

My squad was third and I tried to play off that I wasn't tipsy while accepting, not bothering to stick around after. I figured I'd get to my squad and think of some motivational speech to congratulate them. Their hard work earned us this star after all.

Lighting up another cigarette while walking back through the festival and in the direction of my base, I stopped as I heard:

"Third place ain't bad. Congratulations."

Yami. Again?!

"Thanks. You got second place, right? A miracle," I had to poke at the fact that his squad wasn't at the bottom for once, but returning, "Congratulations, Yami."

"Thank you," Taking a step closer to me, I took a deeper hit of my cigarette, "But what's your deal?"

"What do you mean?" I never felt so anxious, back against the wall of the building we were next to as he got closer:

"You picked Jack over me? And when they were having that drinking contest, it was like you were staring a hole through me. I thought we were friends."

"I'm sorry," Guilt was on my mind considering the reason behind my behavior, truly apologetic, murmuring, "I'm just not having the best day."

"And you're just being an ass to just me?" It was like he already knew, taking my cigarette as I went to ash it and hit it himself, "Seems like you have a grudge against me. I thought you were the type to call people out when something bothered you."

I was that type. Now, standing here shy and timid. That wasn't like me.

"Listen, Yami," I needed more nicotine before I took this leap, taking my cigarette back and closing my eyes, and whispering, "I like you, and overhearing some girls talking about you made me a little jealous in a way, alright?"

I finally opened my eyes when I heard him laughing, confused as to why he was responding with laughter:

"You serious, right now?!"

My face went straight as I felt a bit insulted by his response, getting the last hit out of my cigarette before flicking it away. In my head, I had to remind myself of who I was. A go-getter, not afraid of anything.

He was still laughing while I blew out the smoke, pulling his head to mine and kissing him with every bit of passion I had just to prove that I was indeed serious. My hand ran through his hair as our lips danced, shaking from a rush as he kissed back.

"That serious enough for you?" Pulling away and taking a huge breath, I turned because all he did was stare, ready to leave, but not leaving without the last word, "You know what? Just forget about it."

Great. All I did was embarrass myself. I was going to run through all the cigarettes that I had in just a night now that I was feeling even worse, but suddenly, my blood pressure shot through the roof.

Yami caught my hand before I was too far away, yanking me back and right against his lips, already moaning at how his tongue worked into my mouth as he pushed me up against the wall, growling against my lips:

"You're just gonna walk away after kissing me like that?"

"Well, you didn't say anything," Just that kiss had me panting when I looked to meet those deep brown eyes, not wanting to talk anymore, caressing his cheek and bringing his lips back to mine, "But if you're on the same page as me."

The instant our lips met again, I started melting into a pool of dirty thoughts and temptations, hands wandering across his broad chest and feeling his abs under his shirt, eyes shooting down when he moved my hand away and unbuckled his pants.

"Yami-" Not that I was opposed to the idea, but we were right in an alleyway, anyone could walk along and find us.

"What? Afraid you can't handle all this?" Putting my hand at his waistband, there was no way I could fight the desire to slip my hand into his trousers, his cock rock hard and steaming with heat, stroking slowly down to feel his length.

I took a moment to look around and make sure we were all alone, it was deserted, not even a fly around us, the only light lengths away from us so that we were left in the dark.

"I just don't want to get caught or anything is all," Still pumping his cock in my hand, I bit my lip at the feeling of two fingers under my skirt, easily finding my clit against my panties, slipping in to feel how soaked I was, pressing my face into his chest as he started to pump into me.

"Just don't be too loud," It amazed me how careless he could be sometimes, taking the time to tease me with a whisper, "You're already so wet and tight. Guess, I'll get you off with my hand then, huh?"

His thumb finding my clit and rubbing at the same time had me moaning into his chest, being as quiet as I could, shaking and taking a handful of his shirt when I started to cum around his fingers, picking my head up to whisper back:

"Only fair if you get your fix too. Just fuck me already."

"Naughty girl," He chuckled, kissing and pushing my panties to the side, picking me up by the thighs and positioning himself, my head falling back, squeezing the muscle of his triceps, soft bites leaving marks along my neck while his cock started to stretch me wide, humming to me, "Now, that feels too good."

"You feel good too," I gasped out, looking to see our hips meet, burning against one another as he gave a sweet roll, "Sooo good, Yami."

"That right, shortcake?"

My hands tangled in his hair, having to stop myself from nearly screaming at the quick, powerful thrust that sent his cock deep inside, each thrust coming quicker than the last, my jaw hung, and throat jumbled with the filthy moans that I couldn't let out.

"T-That's right," I choked out, hugging his head to bury my face in his shoulder, finally letting out the moans dying to get out of me, "You're so damn good, Yami!"

"Squeezing me tight like that, I can't help myself," Pushing my back against the wall and keeping me pinned, my arms and legs were latched around him and clinging for dear life, words like I was in a dream, "So warm and soft. Didn't think you'd take me so well, shortcake."

"It's a l-lot," Gasping again, my eyes helplessly rolled to the back of my head, feeling the heat in my stomach grow and ache, especially when his thrust grew even faster somehow, the pound of his tip against my cervix nearly making me scream, "But-; Just, fuck!"

"Hey now, don't wanna get caught, do you?" The ache I felt grew as he started to drag his thrusts out, slowing and kissing, "I know it's good, but you're getting loud, don't ya think?"

"I can't help it," I whined with tears in my eyes, trying to kiss back but constantly moaning, nails dragging along the back of his neck and having me beg, "Faster, again. Yami, please!"

"Oh, you like it fast and rough like that?" I was burying my face again from the relentless pace that outmatched before, walls having an even tight grip, feeling the pulsation from head to toe, his voice nearly an echo in my head, "Gonna make you cum going like that?"

"Yeah!" Pressing my forehead against his, the bliss could even be heard in my tone, so close to the edge that I didn't care, "I don't give a shit if anyone hears. Just make me cum, Yami. I'm about t-, I'm cuming!"

Taking my thighs and spreading them as far as they could, I nearly became one with the wall, a hard thrust keeping our hips pinned, his eyes watching past my skirt to see how I gushed around his cock, walls sucking him back in deeper as he pulled back a little, wanting to see the mess of my slick all over him.

"Got damn, shortcake," He chuckled, letting me ride out the rest of my bliss as my hips began to wind on their own with what little energy I had, "Don't wanna let me go."

"You're so lucky we're where we are right now," I panted under my breath, not thinking he heard, but he did, smirking at me:

"What? Think you can handle a round two or are you just cock drunk?"

"Maybe both," I giggled, gasping as he pulled back, but kept me in his arms, "You just know how to rock my world."

"You know what?" Fixing himself with one hand and easing me to my feet with the other, hand under my skirt and squeezing my ass, winking at me, "I could go for another piece of cake." 

[seulgishaku]

Jason and Nico both think valentine's day is the dumbest thing in existence. Like why would you not give gifts to your partner anyday? Why would you not make them feel special every day? They just don't get it.

So naturally, they turn it into a competition of who can be the most over the top.

Nico's never really been good at grand gestures but no way in hell is he losing to Grace at anything. He shadow travels to a mortal shop and spares no expense at buying whatever cheesy, generic cards and chocolates he can find. (They have a whole section just for this stuff?)

He figures that's probably not enough to top whatever Jason's been trying to pull off for the past couple days (hes taking this very seriously) but he knows one thing he one ups grace on.

Cooking.

Jason can't cook for shit and he knows that and more importantly Nico knows that and he will be using it to his advantage.

Cut to Jason whose been working on something for days. He wants to win (duh) but he also really wants to make Nico feel special (in spite of the holiday, of course) so he's been building.

Or rather, sculpting, really.

It's a statue. Of an eagle and a crow that are making heart shapes with their wings. Gods he wanted to do so much more but unfortunately, he just didn't have the time.

He wants to have it painted too so another sleepless night he guesses.

He does get it finished though. And the day of the competition approaches.

Nico begins trading in all his gifts that he brought for Jason and Jason just. Freezes. Nico went out and brought all of these professionally made gifts for him. His favorite snacks and things like the brownies from the New Rome bakery that he hasn't had in years.

But when Nico takes him out to the plains near the strawberry fields, and shows him the dinner he made (made, he made it. For Jason.) consisting of some of Jason's favorite foods he knows he's lost.

There's strawberries and watermelon and carbonara and Jason sees fast food burgers that don't quite go with the rest of the meal but Nico knows he loves them despite how unhealthy they are.

Jason almost tears up. He knows Nico loves him but this competition (is it really, Jason thinks Nico's won by a landslide) has really shown that Nico is willing to go all out for him.

It makes his gift feel like an arts and crafts project.

Which is kinda what it is.

He feels embarrassed to have spent days working on it. But he'll be damned if he didn't show it now.

When they're done eating Jason takes Nico back to his cabin (and Nico almost thinks this is going in a different direction) and opens the door to his storage. He tells Nico to close his eyes and all Nico can hear is Jason dragging something across the floor.

When he's told to open his eyes he stares for just a moment. One awkward moment and Jason thinks Nico is silently laughing at him in his head, but then Nico pulls him into a hug.

Nico. Nico di Angelo just initiated a hug with Jason Grace.

They stand like that for a while. Jason gets over his shock and eventually hugs Nico back. (He swears he hears sniffling but he doesn't know whether its coming from him or Nico)

They both want to declare the other the winner. (Nico insists upon it being Jason the whole rest of the night.)

They spend the night together watching cheesy hallmark movies and eating the expensive chocolates Nico bought. Every once in awhile Nico will glance back to the statue of them (in bird form) with a dopey smile on his face and Jason thinks maybe he really did win.

[rose-edith]

Hey Bestie love you xxxx also going to the carnival with Gibbs would include? I can see him winning you a big ass teddy bear 😄

Love you too. To make this seasonal- let’s set it as a Valentine’s date! Hope you like it.

A Valentine’s Date with Gibbs at a carnival would include:

•as much as the date is your idea, our handsome man is happy enough to spend time with you. And he’s low-key a little bit cocky about going to the carnival.

•plus, an evening spending little bits of money and having a lot of fun is very much more representative of the two of you as a couple- a fancy restaurant in best clothes isn’t your style. In comfy plaid shirt and comfy jeans and boots, Jethro is much happier. And so are you, who wouldn’t be happy at the carnival with the silver haired fox? Constantly holding hands? Able to snuggle up together at any moment? All sounded like heaven to you!

•he knows you’ll want to squeeze his hand on the teacups, because as much as you’ll giggle and laugh and be curled into his side, there’s still a part of you that doesn’t like it.

•he chuckles as he finds his way through the hall of mirrors easily, but you swear up a storm when you keep walking into the mirrors! You curse his beautiful blue eyes, and then end up smiling up into them when you finally make your way out of the maze of mirrors.

•to give Gibbs credit, he does buy you whatever food you want- whether it’s loaded fries, candy floss, a hot dog, toffee apple, whatever you want you can have. And he’ll have the same too…with a strong black coffee, of course!

•and then your competitive streak comes out. You know he’s a damn good shot- can’t be a sniper if you’re not! But you reckon you can give him a run for his money, and you tell him so with sparkling eyes. It’s the start of foreplay, and you both know you won’t make it all the way home tonight. (Though fortunately, you’re in the truck and there’s lots of dark, shady spots for you to pull over and unleash your passions.)

•so you arrive at the air rifle stall, the best of five shots. You go first, hit four. That’s all Gibbs needs, he practically swaggers as he picks up the rifle, and quick as a flash he takes down all five targets he needed to get, perfect shots every single time. And the baffled, amused stall holder passes Jethro an absolutely ginormous teddy bear!

•and that teddy bear goes straight into your arms. It’s part of your present, and you love it so much! Who doesn’t like a massive teddy bear that’s given to you by the love of your life? Frankly, it’s all feeing incredibly romantic.

•the teddy tucks into your side; it sits beside you when you’re watching the circus show, it’s the stretchy acrobats that gets your attention.

•however, you don’t get to stay to enjoy the whole show…as the contortionist bends, Jethro leans down and whispers in your ear the most delicious words you’ve ever heard…and suddenly you’re sprinting out of there, teddy being dragged along with you, as the rest of your evening gets started….

[formula1bby]

Fortune Favors the Brave Ch. 1

Carlos Sainz x driver!fem!oc

wc: 8216

SLOW BURN MULTIPART STORY, begins in 2019 but we will be jumping around slightly just bc I will not survive writing out every season until the current one XD Later on in the story there will be references to an oc for a different story that I will also be releasing a teaser for within the next couple of weeks but as of right now she is not relevant to Aaliyah's story.

Warnings: descriptions of a panic/anxiety attack, obnoxious reporters, lots of swearing XD

A/N: welp, it's finally here! After almost a year of me talking about this I actually finished editing chapter 1! Let me know what you guys think and if you want to be included in the tag list for this!

Formula One is a dream for many drivers, yet so few of them actually get to achieve that dream. It’s such a cruel fate that these drivers face but for those that are able to turn their dreams into reality, it’s everything. One such lucky driver was 18 year old Aaliyah Thompson. She had the fortunate opportunity to be a full time driver for Toro Rosso in 2017, straight out of winning the Formula Renault 2.0 Litre championship in 2016. She quickly showed her merit and earned eight points at her first Grand Prix (in a less than adequate car), proving those that doubted her wrong. Although, some say that Aaliyah making it into Formula One was just as cruel a fate as never achieving that dream. Being the first female driver to actually start a grand prix since Lella Lombardi in 1976 as well as the youngest driver to have ever entered a grand prix, being only 16 years old in her first season, meant people held her to a very different set of standards. Any mistake meant that her seat would be questioned immediately and the media, who were always breathing down her neck like wolves, would get that misstep they’d been waiting for and pounce.

Aaliyah would be lying if she ever said she regretted her decision to sign with Toro Rosso. Sure, it was hard and the competition she faced in F1 was much more difficult than Formula Renault, but this was her dream and she’d be damned if she let anyone or anything dampen that for her.

Walking through the parking lot, Aaliyah groaned at the horde of media surrounding the entrance to the paddock. Maggie, her PR manager and best friend, lightly smacked Aaliyah’s arm to remind her cameras were everywhere, including the Netflix camera that was going to be following them for the whole weekend.

“Play nice, please,” Maggie said. “You don’t have to answer any questions yet since your first media appearance isn’t until noon, but at least look like you’re happy to see people.”

“I know, I know,” Aaliyah agreed, grabbing her backpack and slinging it over her shoulder. “I’m just not ready for everyone to ask about it.”

Maggie looked sympathetically at the 18 year old as they walked into the paddock for the first race of the 2019 season. They scanned their badges and, as expected, people immediately started asking Aaliyah about her crash and shoving microphones in her face.

“Are you nervous to drive in another grand prix after your crash in Mexico last year?” one reporter tried to ask Aaliyah.

“She’s not answering any questions right now,” Maggie explained, pushing the reporter away. “She has a scheduled media appearance at noon, you can talk to her then.”

Aaliyah could feel her throat tightening as people still tried to shout questions at her and blocked their path to the AlphaTauri hospitality. Maggie tried to explain loudly to them that they weren’t taking any questions right now, but the reporters either didn’t hear her or didn’t care. Aaliyah felt her breathing shorten as she began to hyperventilate. She looked calm to the cameras but anyone that knew her could tell she was anything but. Aaliyah tapped Maggie’s bicep three times, a signal the two had come up with that would let Maggie know they needed to get out of whatever situation asap. Maggie noticed it and immediately grabbed Aaliyah’s arm and pulled her through the swarm of reporters, no regard for who she bumped into.

Once they were out of the swarm, Maggie fell back in step beside Aaliyah so she could check on her.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly. Aaliyah shook her head in response, trying to hold back tears until they got to hospitality. “Do you want to stop walking?” Another head shake. “Alright, let’s get you to hospitality then.”

Aaliyah nodded and the two sped walked to hospitality and were greeted by cool air conditioning as they finally got away from all of the prying cameras, telling the Netflix camera to give them space. Some of the AlphaTauri workers tried to greet Aaliyah but were instantly silenced by the look Maggie gave them. She pulled Aaliyah into her driver’s room and set her down on the couch.

Aaliyah’s face was blank as she tried to focus on her breathing. Hot tears were falling down her face when she couldn’t calm down. She could faintly hear someone talking to her but couldn’t make out any of the words. Her vision was blurring and she started grabbing at her head and pulling at her hair, wanting this panic attack to stop. She felt her hands being gently pulled away from her head and soothing circles being rubbed into her palms. One of her hands was placed on the person’s, Aaliyah supposed it was Maggie’s, chest so that she could feel her breathing and replicate it. Aaliyah did her best to take slow, deep breaths and found herself calming down.

“Liyah?” she heard Maggie say. “If you can hear me, know that you’re safe. We’re in your driver room and there are no cameras and no media in here. It’s just me and you.”

Aaliyah nodded, letting Maggie know that she could hear her. Closing her eyes, Aaliyah continued to focus on her breathing and Maggie’s soothing voice. It felt like an eternity before Aaliyah opened her eyes and saw Maggie, crouched in front of her, holding her hands to ground her.

“Thank you,” Aaliyah shakily said. “I d-d-don’t kn-know what ha-hap-happened.”

There was that damn stutter again. Aaliyah didn’t miss it but knew that she got like this when she was shaken up. Just another unseen side effect of her concussion from last season.

“It’s alright, Liyah,” Maggie assured, sitting down next to the girl and rubbing circles on her back. “I should have gotten you out of there sooner, that one is on me.”

“You couldn’t have stopped it,” she said, taking time to think about what she was saying to stop her stutter. “Unfortunately the media just fucking sucks.”

Maggie laughed as Aaliyah continued to calm down from her panic attack. The two friends talked about anything not related to racing or the media until Noah, Aaliyah’s trainer, knocked on the door lightly. Maggie got up and opened the door to let the British man into the room, the Netflix cameras following him.

“How’s my favorite driver doing?” he asked as he set his bag on the massage table.

“Had a panic attack already so I’m doing peachy,” she said with a laugh and a cheeky smile.

Noah looked over to Maggie to see her response to this and Maggie just smiled and shrugged her shoulders, just glad to see Aaliyah back to herself. Maggie bid Noah and Aaliyah goodbye after reminding the two to not let Aaliyah be late to the media conference with both of them telling her they would be there on time.

“Alright,” Noah said, pulling a resistance band out of his bag for Aaliyah to use. “Why don’t you go ahead and put your hair up however you’re gonna have it for the track walk later before we get started.”

Aaliyah nodded and started putting her hair in braids while chatting with Noah.

“Shit,” Aaliyah said as she got to the end of the first braid. “I don’t have any hair ties.”

Noah was immediately handing her one he kept on his wrist at all times for her. It was something he learned very quickly after becoming her trainer, that she always lost hair ties and never found them again so he had to always have one or two on him. Aaliyah and Noah talked some more about the schedule for the day as Aaliyah finished her other braid, accepting the other hair tie from Noah.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“I’m ready,” Aaliyah responded. “I’m still nervous but if I don’t get back to it now and start strong, I might never be back to normal.”

“Makes sense,” Noah said, handing Aaliyah the resistance band. “I’m proud of you, though.”

Aaliyah smiled at Noah, who was more of a friend than just a trainer to her. She started doing exercises with the resistance band as she talked some more with Noah. He told her about how his fiancee, Bridget, was doing and showed her pictures of their son. Aaliyah checked her phone to see that her boyfriend had texted her. Smiling, she opened the message app and responded to his good luck message, ending it with an “I love you”.

“That Jake you’re messaging?” Noah asked the teen.

“Yeah,” she said, putting her phone away. “He couldn’t come to this weekend’s race. Said he had a shoot he and his team were doing and couldn’t change the date.”

Noah nodded, understanding that since Jake was a content creator he also had an incredibly busy schedule. That being said, he was a little annoyed because he knew Jake had promised Aaliyah he would be there for her first race of the season. Noah always looked out for Aaliyah, seeing her as his kid sister since he was almost 10 years older than her. When she had started dating Jake right after Abu Dhabi the previous year, he was hesitant to accept him but quickly realized how happy he made Aaliyah. That made him okay in Noah’s book.

“Do you want to go say hi to the other drivers?” Noah asked as he packed his bag back up.

“Yeah, that sounds fun,” Aaliyah agreed, putting her hat and sunglasses on.

The two left the driver room and walked around the paddock, a Netflix camera following them the whole time. Aaliyah saw Daniel from a mile away, walking with Kevin, and ran up to him, jumping onto his back. He stumbled a bit before holding onto her legs to keep her from falling off, both of them laughing wildly.

“Hey, kiddo!” he greeted. “How you going?”

“Doing alright,” she responded, sliding off of Daniel’s back and giving him a proper hug. “Bit of a rough morning but I’m sure it’ll get better.”

“Media pestering you?”

“Yeah.”

“Do I need to fight anyone?”

“Not yet.”

Aaliyah greeted Kevin with a hug as well, always having a soft spot for the older man. The three chatted as they walked to the media area. They were grouped together for the press conference, which Aaliyah was very excited about. Checo completed the group for the press conference and they chatted as they waited for their cue to go sit down. Checo noticed that Aaliyah’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes but told himself he would talk to her later so that he didn’t take her focus away from the task at hand. He was glad that he was in her group for the press conference, feeling like he had a duty to help protect her from the media.

“Checo?” Aaliyah asked, speaking Spanish. “You alright?”

“Just a bit nervous for the first race of the season, mija,” he said, not wanting her to know he was worried about her. “You know how it is: the media is gonna throw a lot at us today.”

Aaliyah’s face screwed up in disgust, knowing all too well the types of questions she’d be asked today. Maggie had prepped her as best as she could but everyone knew that it would still be rough on her.

“Yeah, fuck them.”

Checo let out a loud laugh, drawing Daniel and Kevin out of their conversation to look at the two with confusion and amusement. Their PR managers quickly shushed them, knowing that if they were too loud everyone inside the press room could hear them. A few minutes later, the previous group cleared out of the press room and the group of four entered. They took their seats, Aaliyah sitting between Checo and Kevin, and put their mics on, giggling to each other about a snarky comment Aaliyah had made directly before they all walked in.

“Welcome,” a reporter said after they’d all settled down. “How are you guys?” A mix of ‘good’ and ‘excited’ were said in response. “I have a question for all of you: how are you feeling going into this race, it being the first one of the season?”

“I’ll start,” Daniel said with a laugh. “I’m excited. You know, we have a good car this year and I’m looking forward to making some pretty epic moments with the team.”

“Yeah,” Kevin agreed, going down the line. “I think it’ll be a good season. The car felt good during testing and I’m sure there will be a learning curve for it, but I’m optimistic this year.”

“I’m excited,” Aaliyah said with a grin. “It’s gonna be a great season and I’m super stoked to be teamed up with Alex this year. He seems like a great driver and I’m counting on a lot of fun battles on track.”

“It will be a very interesting season,” Checo said. “I’m looking forward to this race and I hope to earn some good points this weekend.”

The next five minutes were filled with questions for the four drivers. Aaliyah was both relieved and surprised that there had been no questions about her Mexico crash. Her relief was short-lived, however, when a particularly invasive reporter asked a question.

“I have a question for Aaliyah,” he started. “How are you feeling starting a new season so soon after your crash in Mexico? Don’t you think it’s too early for your mental state to handle the stress? Have you questioned your place and ability in this sport since your crash and the comments that everyone made about you?”

Checo was about to speak up to defend Aaliyah when she lightly touched his leg with a finger under the table, telling him it was okay.

“I don’t know, because that was definitely more than one question,” Aaliyah started, pointing out his lack of press conference etiquette. “How do you feel about trying to make someone relive trauma for your story?”

“So you’re not gonna give me an answer?” the reporter asked.

“Hell no,” Aaliyah responded with an incredulous chuckle. “If you can’t be respectful when you interview someone that recently went through something incredibly traumatic then you don’t deserve answers to your questions.”

“I’m just trying to get answers to questions we’re all wondering.”

“Stay wondering then.”

Checo gave Aaliyah a look, silently asking if she was okay. She subtly nodded back, taking a deep breath as the next reporter asked a question. Kevin kept looking over at Aaliyah throughout the rest of the media conference, making sure she was fine.

“We have time for one last question,” the facilitator told everyone.

“My question is for Aaliyah,” a female reporter spoke up. “I understand if you don’t want to talk about your crash and how you’re feeling, it was obviously traumatic for you, but I was just wondering if you would be willing to tell us a bit about how you got back on your feet afterwards. It was truly inspirational seeing you come back to the track as soon as possible last season and I would love for you to share with us what motivated you in your quick recovery.”

Aaliyah smiled softly at the woman. Finally, someone that treats me like a person. She thought.

“I appreciate you asking that in such a respectful way,” Aaliyah started, giving a pointed glare to the reporter that had been so rude to her before. “Yeah, honestly it has been a super long healing process for me. Physically, I was completely healed before Abu Dhabi. Mentally,” a pause. “Mentally I’m still healing. Like I’ve said, and been very open about, it was incredibly traumatic. Thankfully I’ve had an awesome support system with my friends, family, my team, and my boyfriend. It’s really because of them that I was able to get back in the car so soon after my crash. Plus, I’ve always said that part of the reason I’m here is to show girls that they can do whatever they want and that nothing can keep them down for long. So long answer short: I had lots of support from friends and family and wanted to make sure I’m a good role model for other girls and women.”

“Thank you,” the reporter responded. “I wish you all the best as you continue to recover.”

Aaliyah nodded in thanks as the facilitator ended the press conference. The four drivers took their mics off and walked out of the room, meeting their PR managers outside. Maggie gave Aaliyah a hug, sorry she couldn’t stop the first reporter from asking about her crash.

“Liyah,” Kevin started, getting the young driver’s attention. “You okay?”

“Honestly,” Aaliyah said, side-hugging Maggie. “Not really. But I’ll get over it. It’s not too different from any other season where reporters don’t respect me.”

“That’s not something you should get used to,” Kevin noted.

“I know,” she said, resting her head against Maggie’s shoulder. The blonde wrapped an arm around her friend for comfort. “But if I don’t get used to it, I’ll continue to be affected by it. And I’m sick of crying after every press conference and interview.”

The three drivers looked at her with a tinge of pity. Even though they knew that media duties were always rough for the 18 year old, they were unaware of the extent of the toll it took on her. Maggie glanced at her watch and pulled Aaliyah away from the uncomfortable situation by saying that she had to do her track walk soon and needed to meet up with her team. Aaliyah gave them all a hug in parting and said she’d talk to them later that evening.

“I’m gonna get that reporter fired,” Maggie said, referring to the rude reporter. Aaliyah laughed as Maggie continued her incredibly unprofessional rant. “Seriously! Who does he think he is? Talking to you like that. I’ll shave my head before I let anyone disrespect you like that.”

Aaliyah laughed loudly as the two friends walked back to the AlphaTauri hospitality. The two made it back and Alex was sitting in the lounge area, eating some of the snacks available to them. Aaliyah smiled as she parted ways with Maggie, who was likely off to plan something for Aaliyah to do, to sit down across from her rookie teammate.

“Hey, Alex!” she greeted as she sat down. “How are you?”

“Oh hey, Liyah!” he said around a mouthful of crisps. “I’m doing alright, less nervous today than I thought I would be, but I’m sure I’ll make up for it tomorrow.”

Aaliyah laughed a bit at his response. It was odd, she was the younger one on the team but was the more experienced driver. Alex looked up to her to follow her lead. Not literally of course, Aaliyah was much too short for that to be a possibility.

“It’s honestly not that bad once you’re in the car,” Aaliyah assured, sitting back on the couch and crossing her legs. “Yes, the cars are different from other Formula series’ but it’s racing just like you’ve done your whole life. You’ll do grand, I’m sure.”

“I appreciate that, thank you,” Alex said honestly. “How was your press conference, by the way?”

“Long answer or short answer?” Aaliyah asked, rolling her eyes.

“We’ve got time.”

Aaliyah laughed at Alex’s response before telling him about the press conference, going into great detail (per his request) about the rude reporter she had called out. Alex was just as appalled as Maggie and was ready to get up and punch the reporter for his treatment of Aaliyah.

“He really said that to you?” he asked incredulously.

“Yeah,” she responded. “I was kind of expecting questions about it, but definitely nothing like that. It kind of shook me up a bit.”

“Understandable.” A pause. “I’m gonna fight him.”

“I think you’ll have to get in line,” Aaliyah joked. “Checo, Dan, and Maggie have first dibs. Maggie said something about getting him fired and shaving her head before she let someone talk to me like that.” Alex laughed at this, easily seeing the fiery blonde saying that. “It was all very unprofessional but sweet nonetheless so I’m not gonna snitch on her.”

Maggie, of course, chose that moment to walk back into the lounge area. Aaliyah laughed at the timing as her PR manager raised an eyebrow at her and went to stand behind Aaliyah on the couch. She rested her hands on her shoulders, gripping them lightly, before speaking.

“What’s this I hear about you snitching on me?” she asked.

“No, I said I wasn’t snitching on you,” Aaliyah clarified with a chuckle.

Maggie released Aaliyah from her grasp before immediately jumping back to business. Alex laughed at the interaction between the two, clearly seeing how close they were. Maggie finished telling Aaliyah her schedule for the rest of the day and stayed to chat for a few minutes longer.

“How long have you guys known each other?” Alex asked.

“I think we met my second to last year of karting?” Aaliyah asked Maggie to clarify.

“Yeah,” Maggie agreed. “It was one of the races where you beat my brother. He was not happy about it but I remember thinking I wanted to be friends with you.”

“And now she won’t leave me alone,” she joked to Alex.

Maggie smacked Aaliyah on the back of the head, rolling her eyes. Aaliyah let out an undignified noise at the contact and rubbed the back of her head where it had been hit, protesting that she recently had a concussion. Alex let out a loud laugh at the two’s interaction. Maggie gave Aaliyah a light tap on top of her head and said goodbye, saying she was leaving to get lunch for her and Aaliyah.

“Were you nervous before your first race weekend in F1?” Alex quietly asked the younger girl once Maggie had left.

Aaliyah smiled at Alex softly. She knew the nerves and the media were likely getting to him much more than he had been letting on.

“I was terrified,” Aaliyah said with a chuckle. “I was paired up with a more experienced and older driver, I was driving for the junior team of a team that had recently been champions for four consecutive years, and I was gonna be surrounded by a bunch of guys I didn’t know. Obviously my experience is different from yours, but if I ended up doing well, you’ll do just fine. You’re more experienced than I was when I joined.”

“Thanks, Liyah,” he said sincerely.

“Of course, Alex,” she responded.

“Is Jake going to be here at all this weekend?” Alex asked as he shoved more crisps into his mouth.

“No,” Aaliyah said, tired smile on her face. “He said he had a shoot he was doing for a big video and they couldn’t change the shoot date so close to it.”

“Didn’t you say he promised he’d be here for your first race of the season?”

“I did say that, yes. Apparently money is more important than supporting me and attending our first race weekend as a couple.”

“That’s messed up.”

Aaliyah nodded, clearly annoyed by her boyfriend’s decisions. As Alex looked at her, his eyebrows scrunched together in annoyance. He had met Jake a few times during pre-season events and each time made him wonder what on earth Aaliyah saw in him. She was so much more mature, successful, and overall pleasant to be around than the guy she chose to date. They seemed happy, so Alex didn’t say anything. He really wanted to though. Aaliyah already felt like his sister and even though he knew she didn’t need him to protect her, he felt like he had an obligation to look out for her.

At that moment, Aaliyah’s phone rang. She looked at the caller ID and saw that Max was calling her. Sighing, she put the phone to her ear.

“What do you need?” she asked.

“How come you think I need something every time I call you? Can’t I just want to talk to my best friend?” the Dutch man asked.

“You can but you never do,” Aaliyah responded with a laugh.

“I’m coming over and we’re talking about it.”

The smile fell off of Aaliyah’s face after hearing that. She knew Max knew her better than almost everyone, besides her family and Lance, and he knew how much she was really affected by the media that day.

“Okay.”

“Okay. See you soon.”

Aaliyah sighed and ended the call. Alex looked at her, worried.

“What was that about?” he asked.

“Max being an annoyingly good best friend,” she responded.

That was an unexpected twist for Alex, but he decided to leave whatever the two friends were going to talk about between them. Aaliyah and Alex made small talk in the lounge area until Max barged into the AlphaTauri hospitality and made eye contact with Aaliyah. Alex laughed as Aaliyah hung her head and followed Max to her driver’s room as he scolded her for not telling him what happened in the press conference and how he had to find out from Daniel. He closed the door to her room and crossed his arms as he looked at her. She took her hat off and set it down as she turned to look at Max, more accurately to avoid his gaze by looking anywhere but him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.

“I was going to tell you,” Aaliyah started. “I just hadn’t gotten around to it yet.”

“Aaliyah,” he sighed.

“I know! Okay?! I know!” she snapped. “You told me to tell you if something like this happened and you told me to not be snarky. But I couldn’t help it! He was being an ass!”

Max waited for Aaliyah to calm down from her outburst, knowing she needed it and wouldn’t do this in front of anyone else aside from Lance, Checo, and maybe Pierre. Aaliyah looked at him and Max saw how vulnerable she really felt. He said her name softly and pulled her into a tight hug. She let her tears fall, completely overwhelmed by the day already. Max held his friend until he knew she was okay and she started pulling away. He watched as she wiped her face free of tears and turned to look in the mirror in her driver room to wipe away any mascara that had smudged.

“You feel better now?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she replied, grabbing her water bottle and taking a sip. “Thanks for always being there for me.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Max said, giving the younger girl another hug. “You’re stuck with me.”

“There’s worse people to be stuck with,” she joked. “Can you even imagine if I was stuck with Robert?”

Max laughed out loud at this. It’s not that either of them disliked Kubica, but he definitely would not be at the top of Aaliyah’s list of people she’d go to when she needed someone. The two friends waited in Aaliyah’s driver room until she was completely composed and no longer looked like she had just been crying. Aaliyah led Max to the front door of the hospitality and gave him a hug before sending him on his merry way. Turning back around, Alex was scrolling on social media on the couch and gave Aaliyah a smile as she walked back over to the sitting area. She followed his lead and pulled out her phone to scroll through various media feeds, eventually settling on watching videos on YouTube.

At some point Maggie and Alex’s PR manager brought food back for lunch and the four of them ate together in the lounge area. When they were done, they cleaned up and Aaliyah went to her driver room to grab her hat and came back out to see her team ready to go to the track for their track walk. Aaliyah put her hat on and grabbed a water bottle from Maggie’s hand. Putting on her sunglasses, Aaliyah told her team she was ready and they all bid their goodbyes to those present in the hospitality and made their way to the track.

Walking through the paddock was rough. Aaliyah was the hot topic of the season start despite the season’s three rookies, the dramatic end of her Mexico Grand Prix the prior season not losing any of its headlining ability yet, causing reporters to flock to her in the hopes they could glean a bit of that popularity for themselves. Aaliyah did her best to ignore the media as her team formed a sort of barricade around her to protect her from prying eyes and loud, invasive questions. When they finally got to the track, her team allowed Aaliyah to walk onto it first to escape the reporters. They quickly followed her lead and began their track walk.

Aaliyah couldn’t help but let her mind wander a bit on the track. She always ended up making her team do multiple laps on track so that she could get a good feel for it, something that the media had lovingly dubbed “fortune telling” (the term going hand-in-hand with the nickname “Miss Fortune” that they had also given her) since she almost always had a more accurate reading of the track than her competitors.

“What do you think, Liyah?” Jacques asked his driver, his British accent a familiar voice to her ears.

Aaliyah was snapped out of her thoughts and looked up at her race engineer with wide eyes. She smiled sheepishly and Jacques laughed, knowing she didn’t have a clue what they had been talking about.

“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

“It’s alright,” Jacques said with a smile. “I was asking what you thought about this turn and how you think you’ll be able to go with it?”

Aaliyah stood still and examined the entrance, apex, and exit of the turn with careful eyes. It was a sight to see, the girl becoming incredibly serious very quickly, a sight that her team tried to never take for granted. They enjoyed watching her process, especially because she always gave them great insight about the practicalities of the track and how she could realistically drive it. Crouching down, Aaliyah placed a hand on the track lightly. She wasn’t a superstitious person, but she was a little stitious. She didn’t think the track could literally talk to her, but she could almost feel how the track felt on those days. It didn’t make sense to any of the other drivers or the engineers, some of them regularly teasing her for it, but ultimately they accepted that her readings were pretty accurate more often than not. Aaliyah studied the track with scrutiny, hoping to glean any information that she could from it.

“How does it feel?” Jacques asked the girl.

“Not sure yet,” Aaliyah responded. “Not bad, not good, just… nothing right now. May need to do a few more laps before I can really tell.”

Jacques nodded, accepting her answer. She would always tell him what the track felt like to her so that he could change strategies accordingly. Her strategists also made sure to take her readings into account, knowing all too well what could happen if they didn’t. On good weekends, Aaliyah described the track as warm, not like warm weather, more like the fuzzy feeling you get when surrounded by the people you love. An inviting feeling, for sure. Those were the weekends that everyone could expect her to do extraordinarily well and she normally delivered the expected or better results. Naturally, those were Aaliyah’s favorites. Some weekends, the track didn’t feel warm, but it also didn’t feel like the cold that filled her when the track felt bad. Those weekends were a toss-up about what would happen. When the track felt bad, it was a cold that washed over Aaliyah as if she was in primary school and about to give a speech. It made her nervous, but she wasn’t filled with dread. Those races, more often than not, she didn’t deliver the results that were expected of her.

The worst of the feelings, Aaliyah had only experienced a handful of times in her entire racing career, but it was an unforgettable feeling. It was the cold dread that didn’t just wash over her, it poured down on her continually the entire weekend. Imagine standing on the edge of an unstable cliff with no safety gear ensuring your safe return home and certain doom if you were to fall. That was the worst feeling Aaliyah had ever experienced. She felt it at Mexico the year prior and back in Formula Renault once or twice. Every time, she had a bad crash and didn’t finish the race.

Aaliyah was jumpscared out of her reverie by Daniel Ricciardo biking past her with a loud “Whooop!” Placing a hand on her chest to calm down, Aaliyah flipped Daniel off as he sped away. He glanced back at the girl and his grin somehow got bigger as he laughed loudly at her reaction.

“I hope you fall!” Aaliyah yelled after him, not really meaning it. “Aussies, am I right?”

Her team laughed with the British girl before getting on with the rest of the track walk. They walked around the track twice so that they could get better bearings on the track conditions. Deciding they got all the information they needed, Aaliyah’s team told her they were going to head back to the garage to come up with a plan for practice and to let them know when she got a better read on the track herself. Noah stayed behind with her to chat as the rest of their team left.

“You get a good reading yet?” Noah asked his friend.

“It’s weird,” Aaliyah started, looking at Noah. “For a second there I thought it felt pretty good but now? Now I just feel nothing. Not good or bad.”

“We’ll let the strategy guys know then,” he said with a smile. “I’m always amazed by your readings, have I ever told you that?”

“You’ve mentioned it once or twice,” she responded with a chuckle. “I could stand to hear it more often. Too many people say it’s weird.”

“Fuck them, then,” Noah grimaced. “It’s incredible because you’re almost always more accurate than the others.”

“You’re too good to me, Noah,” Aaliyah said with a smile.

“Nah,” he disagreed, pulling the girl into his side in a hug. “I’m not good enough to you. Even if you’re a dumbass sometimes.”

“There it is,” she laughed, knowing he could never be sentimental for too long.

The two laughed as they made their way off the track and into the garage to greet the engineers. Aaliyah said hello to both sides of the AlphaTauri garage before heading back to the hospitality to do some of the social media duties Maggie had told her about prior to the track walk. She waved to some fans and took pictures with some people that were in the paddock before finally reaching the refuge that was the hospitality.

Noah let her walk in first to escape the mass of people and cameras that were trying to follow her. Alex was no longer in the sitting area of the hospitality but Maggie was there to greet Aaliyah and Noah. The three went to Aaliyah’s driver room to get Aaliyah ready for the social media videos. Aaliyah sat down on the couch and took off her hat and sunglasses, setting them on a small table next to her.

“Drink water,” Maggie told Aaliyah, handing her a water bottle. “You look pale.”

“Thanks, mum,” Aaliyah said with a light smirk.

She didn’t actually argue with Maggie and drank the water given to her. Noah and Aaliyah chatted as Maggie finalized a few things on her phone and let in one of the team photographers to take some natural pictures to start off the weekend. Maggie finally finished whatever it was she had been doing and turned to Aaliyah.

“Okay, Liyah,” she started. “You have one more social media video to make showing off your helmet for the year and then you’ll be free for the rest of the day.”

“Free as in I get to leave or free as in I have to stay in case something comes up?” she asked with a cheeky smile.

“Free as in you get to leave, brat,” Maggie said, lightly smacking Aaliyah’s head with her folder. “Your helmet is in the bag on the table. Also make sure you bring a new sharpie tomorrow, you’ll have to sign some things before and after practice.”

Aaliyah nodded as she got up and grabbed her helmet for the 2019 season. It was her favorite helmet that she’d had so far, with swirling reds and yellows adorning the majority of the surface area. Her six-year-old brother, Leo, had helped her design it with input from their ten-year-old brother, Hunter. She sat back down on the couch and held the helmet in her hands to show it off to the camera that was about to be recording her. Maggie gave her a thumbs up, telling her it had started and Aaliyah began talking.

“Hello, everyone, Liyah here!” Aaliyah started with a grin. “I hope you’re all as excited as me for the start of the new season and I wanted to share with you guys my helmet for the 2019 season.” She lifted it up higher to better show the camera what it looked like. “It was actually designed by my two younger brothers and refined by my sister and myself. My youngest brother really clung to the Red Bull colors of yellow and red and did some sweeping waves for the beach town we grew up in in England and my other brother included a paw print of the family dog that he somehow coerced her to cooperate for.” She turned the helmet so the visor was facing her and pointed out the paw print with the dog’s name underneath to the camera. “This helmet doesn’t have some huge symbolism or anything, it’s mostly a testament to my family and how much they mean to me. It’s really a way for me to stay close to them while I’m on track, which is something I started last year after Mexico when I put a picture of them in my helmet.” She let the helmet go lower in frame as she finished the video off. “Anyways, thank you guys for your support and I can’t wait to see you all this season! Liyah out.”

She gave a two finger salute and Maggie ended the recording.

“Nicely done, Liyah,” she said, turning the camera off to put it away. “Alright, I want to head back to the hotel so that I can edit this and get it up right away on your channels and send it to Mike for the AlphaTauri channels. Once you’re packed up, we’ll head out, okay?”

Aaliyah nodded and got up to pack her stuff up. It was a quick process since most of it was still in her bag. Putting her helmet away and zipping up her bag, Aaliyah was ready and slung her backpack over her shoulder. Noah and Maggie both stood up and the three walked out together, saying goodbye to those that were in the common area of the hospitality. They walked out to the carpark, completely ignoring any reporters that were being obnoxious and yelling questions at Aaliyah. She did, however, stop for photos with some fans and signed some things when asked. They finally made it out to the carpark and Maggie and Aaliyah said goodbye to Noah, knowing they probably wouldn’t see him again before the next morning.

“You cool if I drive?” Aaliyah asked Maggie, knowing that sometimes Maggie couldn’t handle someone else driving her.

“I appreciate the concern,” Maggie said. “But I never mind you driving me. Noah on the other hand…”

Maggie trailed off and the two girls laughed as they put their bags in the boot of the car and got in. It was a relatively short drive back to the hotel and the music that Maggie played made it seem that much shorter. Once they got to the hotel and parked, they grabbed their bags out of the car and walked in together. Their rooms were on the same floor so they accompanied each other in the elevator and separated to go down the hallways that held their respective rooms.

“Thank god,” Aaliyah said quietly as she unlocked her hotel room and walked inside.

She immediately dumped her bag on the chair in the living room and went straight back to the bedroom so that she could get ready for either a bath or shower, she hadn’t decided which one she wanted yet. She had taken off her shoes and belt and was about to take off her shirt when there was a knock at her door. Quietly groaning, Aaliyah walked to her front door. Looking through the peephole, she saw Carlos standing at her door.

The two were pretty good friends, having been teammates during Aaliyah’s rookie season with Toro Rosso, and often checked up with each other at least once every race weekend. There were some exceptions of course, but generally they would make a point to see each other outside of the paddock every race weekend.

Aaliyah sighed a bit and opened the door to her friend.

“Do you do this often, Sainz?” she asked teasingly.

“What do you mean?” he asked, confused.

“Knock on women’s hotel doors immediately after they get back,” Aaliyah chuckled.

Carlos’ eyes widened a bit, worried he was intruding now, and he started to turn to leave while talking.

“Sorry,” he started. “I didn’t realize you had only just got back from the circuit. I can leave you for the night?”

Aaliyah laughed and grabbed his arm, stopping him from actually leaving.

“I’m kidding, Carlos,” she said in Spanish. “You are more than welcome to keep me company for a while tonight.”

Carlos smiled as Aaliyah gestured for him to go into her hotel room. He walked in and gawked at the size.

“Your room is this big?” he asked incredulously. “Mine looks like a closet compared.”

“It’s the Red Bull money,” Aaliyah laughed as the door closed behind her. “That and the brand new sponsor.”

Carlos let out a hum of agreement as Aaliyah went to her bedroom and grabbed clothes to change into, announcing to her friend that she would be out shortly. She closed the door of the bedroom and quickly changed into more comfortable clothes and tossed one of Jake’s hoodies over her shirt, the piece of clothing dwarfing her given the height difference between her and her boyfriend. Aaliyah pulled her hair out of the braids and into a ponytail before walking back out to Carlos.

“Is that Jake’s?” Carlos asked.

“Yeah,” Aaliyah said in Spanish. “He gave it to me before I left for Australia.”

“Didn’t he say at dinner last month that he would join you this weekend?” he asked, confused as to why she was alone for the race weekend.

“He did,” she responded, clearly upset by the fact that he wasn’t there as she plopped onto the couch and set her feet in his lap at the other end. “But he said that they had a video shoot that they couldn’t change the date for and apparently it’s a huge one.”

“But still,” Carlos started, his face screwing up in distaste for Jake’s actions. “That’s not right to cancel on you like that, especially since it would be your first race after announcing your relationship.” Aaliyah nodded with a tired smile but Carlos wasn’t done with his rant yet. “Not to mention all of the times that you didn’t go to parties and events because you were going to one of his video shoots. He needs to do the same for you.”

“You’re preaching to the choir right now, Carlos,” Aaliyah said with a dry laugh. “But there’s nothing I can do about it right now and I want to have that conversation when neither of us have some big event happening.”

Carlos hummed in agreement with Aaliyah’s plan and the two fell into a comfortable silence. They sat like that, Aaliyah’s feet still in Carlos’ lap and his arm resting on her calves, for a few minutes before Aaliyah started to reach for the remote to turn the tv on. As she grabbed it, Carlos began to speak again.

“If I’m being honest,” he started, making Aaliyah pause her action. “This wasn’t just a social call.” She looked at him, confused, as she set the remote back down. “I heard what happened today at your press conference. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Aaliyah shook her head as she let it rest against the back of the couch.

“Is everyone talking about that or something?” she asked, switching back to English and clearly annoyed by the interaction being the gossip of the day. “Who did you even hear about it from?”

“Well,” Carlos started, hesitating to say how he heard of it. With a pointed look from Aaliyah his resolve crumbled and he spoke. “I heard it from Lando who said he heard it from George who said he heard it from Alex.”

“Of course it was the rookies,” Aaliyah said.

There was more silence before Carlos broke the silence. He knew that he shouldn’t have brought it up but he also knew that he needed to talk to Aaliyah about it.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay, Liyah,” he said. “I know how that kind of stuff affects you. We were teammates after all.”

“I know, Carlos,” Aaliyah said, smiling softly at him. “I do appreciate it, despite what it sounds like.” There was a pause as Aaliyah thought about her response. “I’m doing as well as I can,” she settled on. “It sucks for sure, but I’m alright. I held it together and got through the rest of the conference, which is what matters.”

“What matters is you and your mental health,” Carlos interjected, upset that she was so nonchalant about it. “You say you’re fine, but you don’t even know how bad it’s affecting you. You accept it as an inevitable event that you’ll be disrespected and that shouldn’t be the case.”

Carlos was getting so heated about this that he switched back to Spanish to get his point across. At his comment, Aaliyah stood up and looked down at Carlos.

“Do you really think I wouldn’t stop it if I could?!” she exclaimed. “I would love it if I didn’t have to deal with this every single day of my fucking life. Unfortunately, I don’t have that kind of power because nobody fucking respects me! Of course I shouldn’t accept it as inevitable, but until others also stand up for me it will be! It will always be something I have to deal with just because of my gender and choice of profession. I know that, I accept that. You need to get over your self righteous self and accept it too if you’re not going to try to help make a change.” Aaliyah was out of breath at the end of the rant but she wasn’t done yet. “I understand that you don’t get it, but if you really want things to change, you have to actually be a part of it instead of just telling me how things should be.”

Carlos was left in a stunned silence. He hadn’t expected Aaliyah to react in that way when he brought it up and he wholly regretted asking her about it in that moment. He was about to say something when Aaliyah cut him off.

“I think you need to leave, Carlos,” she said, not in a cold way, just a frustrated one. “It’s been a long day for both of us. We should get some rest before practice tomorrow.”

Carlos got up and left in a flurry of hushed “I’m sorry”. Aaliyah sighed as the door clicked behind him and plopped back down on the couch. It didn’t help that she had already had to deal with Max about the press conference that day as well as the slight twinge of betrayal from finding out Alex was one of the ones that spread the gossip. It wasn’t like she expected for nobody to learn about it, it was televised after all. She had just hoped that it wouldn’t be the source of paddock gossip, she’d already been the center of that too many times.

Aaliyah got up, realizing she still hadn’t showered, and walked to the bathroom to clean off from the day. The Australian sun and heat didn’t do her many favors, leaving her a sweating mess after the day at the track. She showered off, finally being able to relax from the stressful day she had. Setting an alarm, Aaliyah got into bed, hoping to get some rest before getting into the car the following morning.

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

A/N: If you made it all the way down here, thank you for reading! I appreciate you! Let me know what you thought of this chapter and let me know if you would like to be put on the taglist! This is a story I have been thinking about and writing for a hot minute now so it seems kinda weird to be sharing this story with everyone else now XD Anywho, I hope you enjoyed <3 See you all later!

Cazza out (^▽^)

[lightwing-s]

So I was thinking about the request for Dick. Again. And here's what I came up with.

Dick s/o being a forensic scientist. And while Grayson himself is a detective, they made a bet who will crack the work case faster. One night, when Nightwing and batfamily are on mission, she sneaks into batcave to access the newest technology and software. Ofc Dick catches her red handed and calls a cheater. It all leads to teasing and fooling around (I'm thinking fluff and comedy style), up to the point where she's forced to admit he's better (maybe he kisses or tickling her to the point of surrender).

TY 🙃

There was no denying you and your boyfriend, Dick Grayson, were competitive. Hell, even your own  relationship started out of a silly competition where some friends from your precinct had a bet over which of you could go longer without any dates or hookups. Safe to say, you both lost at  the same time/ night.

Dating him also came with an exclusive pack of friends and family that would eventually become your own. To you, in particular, Alfred ended up coming  really close, trading recipes and him even teaching you Dick’s favorite dishes. He was your relationship unofficial keeper, and also your greatest accomplice.

That’s how you ended up sneaking into the Batcave one thursday night. 

The entire family was out on patrol, and you really could use the computer’s substance scan your boyfriend loved to mention. A couple had recently been murdered in one of the city’s most expensive apartment complexes, but barely any clues could be found, taking you and your team a thorough job to get even the smallest of fingerprints. Dick had also been assigned the same case, thus starting your competition of the week(s). I know, it looks very unprofessional, and borderline unethical, but your dedication to win showed very productive for the force.

Sitting in front of the large computer, waiting for the analysis of an orange substance you found in several places on the crime scene but conveniently kept it a secret from your boyfriend, you took in the environment you were once crazy to see. You had never been to the cave with anyone, let alone by yourself, so it took a lot of convincing (and some bribery) for Alfred to allow you in.

You could already feel the taste of victory on your tongue when the sound of defeat reached your ears.

“What do we have here?” you heard your boyfriend say from the elevator door. “A cheater!”

Immediately hiding under the desk, you mentally cursed yourself for not being more careful and for all the fun Dick was going to take out of your situation. Damn it, I was so close!

His silent steps reached your location, and you could see his groin leveled with your eyes under the tight suit. In any other conditions, you’d appreciate how you stood, but right now, it took everything in you not to punch it.

“If you say anything, I swear…”

“Me!” he feigned indignation, giving you his hand to pull you back up. “You’re the one showing terrible sportsmanship.”

“Oh, like you never cheated in any of our games before!”

“Never!” he faked his innocence, gaining a punch from you on his shoulder. He really could piss you off sometimes. “What are you doing, babe?” he questioned, grabbing at your hips and lacing his arms around them, trying to make you uncross your arms and hug him back.

“Nothing…” you faked, but he saw right through you, as usual, lifting an eyebrow in disbelief. “I found something in the crime scene, okay? Yes, I didn’t tell you, but I know that in the Nichols’ murder you hid information from me too. Consider this revenge! But the precinct’s scanner can’t make out what it is because it’s mixed with something else and keeps giving me inconclusive results. I knew Bruce had this new top of the line scanner that according to Tim can identify every substance imaginable so I kind of bribed Alfred with two dinners a month if he let me get into the cave.”

“You promised Alfred what?!” he asked, brushing off everything else you said.

“Shut it, Grayson. You love his food anyway and…” you were about to tell him off when the AI’s voice announce “Scan finalized.”

You instantly turned around, leaving the comfortable embrace of your boyfriend, too anxious to know what the orange powder you had been studying for days finally was. However, when your boyfriend’s boisterous laugh filled the room and you saw the bright letters spelling out CHEETOS on the screen, you knew everything you did to get where you were ended up being for absolutely absolutely nothing.

“I can’t believe it.” you said in disbelief, as your boyfriend was out of breath behind you. And worse: “Thompson was eating cheetos while we looked for evidence.”

Fuck Thompson. Your fucking lab parter and dumbest person in the world had ruined your chances, again.

“Ah, babe.” he hugged you from behind, kissing you cheek and resting his head on your shoulder. “Admit it, I’ve always been the better detective.”

Dead in the eyes, you refuse to answer. But Dick knows how to break you better than anyone, so he starts pecking all over your face, forcing a smile to spread on your lips.”

“Say it, Bart…”

Sighting in defeat, you finish: “You’re the better detective. You win the game.”

.

requests are open. you can also check out my updated masterlist ♡

[radiokathryn-if]

this is based in England right?? What are the ros fave insults/curse words??

this is my new favourite ask. fun fact about me, my friends and I used to get in trouble bc on the bus to school (so like 7 in the morning) we would have competitions on who could string along the longest and most foul insult chain... i'll refrain from getting that bad for the ROs!

Nate──he gets harsh with his curses— "cunt" "twat" "wanker" but he uses 'swear' words all the time like "bollocks" "bloody" "fuck(er)" "shit(er)" and so on. Nate may have the worst case of sailors mouth out of all of them, uses cruder versions of words like "piss" and has called people (of all genders) "slags" and "skanks" and "whores" just because he can.

Eva──doesn't swear in English often but when she does is mostly the common swears like "fuck" and . She has called Nate a "Hijo de puta resignada" (son of a twice fucked whore) before, her more colourful language being in Spanish.

Mica──doesn't swear all to much, unless they're angry in which they tend to stick with more classic curses and insults like— "knobhead" "arsehole" "git" "tosser" or "bellend". Has called someone a "neek" before and never did again after their hilarious overeaction. (It means nerd/geek)

Detective Han──doesn't swear. They're intimidation factor comes from them not their words. Is not afraid to call someone an "idiot" though and it feels harsher than it should.

José──uses "mother fucker" so much it's kind lost its impact. Also uses "shit" all the time. Is kind of enabled by their whole family (including their parents!) but José doesn't really go further than that.

Ji Han──doesn't swear out loud. He's a medical student and an apprentice at a hospital, he has to make sure he doesn't slip up so he doesn't swear audibly. I will say, he gets quite scary when he does audibly swear. He gets creative with insults because he's observant enough to notice what gets under the other person's skin. Doesn't use "shit" but does use "fuck(ing)" will also use "damn" sometimes.

Fauve──she has a couple favourite favourites that include— "fuckwit" "piss weasel" "wank stain" "ballache" and "bearded clam", but isn't afraid to swear in her every day language. Not afraid to call people a "nonce" or a "slack-jawed, jug-eared, mouth-breathing, bottom-feeding thunder cunt." She says "crap" over "shit" but tends to say "pee" over "piss" because it sounds too harsh... (weird hill to die on Fauve!)

Jackson──has a young daughter so actively slowed down cussing. Has called multiple people a "prat" a "prick" a "plonker" or a "pillock" and uses tamer insults like "idiot" or "muppet" around Cilly.

???──likes swearing so much but doesn't because they still feel weird about it after getting scolded by their parents for it in their youth. (typically taking the rapp for their twin). Can usually get away with less brash insults like "sod" "daft" "bloody" "damn" or "shit" without feeling guilty. Will unleash their hidden vernacular in blind anger though with things like "cack-handed nitwit" or "smeg head" or "absolute oxygen thieving cockwomble".

: )