#it is fundamentally the same as hearing someone say ‘hey wouldn’t it be fucked up if ……’ and going ‘yeah that would be pretty fucked up’

[bitch-for-bo]

Jealousy (Miya Atsumu x chubby reader)

POST TIME SKIP

Bokuto and his childhood best friend have gotten awfully close lately, a little too close for Atsumu's liking. He's mad about how much attention you give to Bokuto after a game, when you confront him about his attitude, things quickly get out of control.

ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS ALLOWED!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

Atsumu’d had enough. He’d been watching you shamelessly ogle over and compliment Bokuto for the last five minutes, and you’d failed to notice him or congratulate him once. All he’d gotten so far was a quick kiss along with a ‘good game’ before you’d ran over to Bokuto to hype the hitter up.

He didn’t care that you were just having a light good-natured conversation with your childhood friend. All he could focus on was the way that your bodies were unconsciously tilted towards each other or how Bokuto’s hands were lingering a little too much as he wrapped them around you for a hug.

It wasn’t just today either. All it had been with you for the last week at least, was how awesome and strong Bokuto was. Not to mention how built he was. God, you went to the gym with Bokuto once, and now you wouldn’t stop rambling about how surprisingly ripped the spiker was beneath his jersey.

All it was was,

“Oh my god, did you know that Bokuto can hip thrust almost 600 pounds! God! He could crush me with those thighs!”

Or

“We were goofing off and Bokuto actually picked me up and squatted me!”

All of these things were said in front of the whole MSMBY team, causing Bokuto to puff up with pride, Hinata to marvel at his awesomeness, Sakusa not to care, and Atsumu to go off and seeth to himself.

Of course, you didn’t know the effect that you had on Atsumu. You couldn’t tell that every time you playfully flirted with Bokuto, telling him how handsome and strong he was, that Atsumu was filled with the urge to rip you away and fuck you right in front of the whole team, letting them know just who you belonged to.

You didn’t know this because, while Atsumu was incredible at communicating with his teammates, he was shit at expressing his feelings when it came to you. This led to him bottling up all of his feelings until they became too much for him. At which time he would go and rant to a very jaded and very annoyed Kiyoomi.

“Yeah, but did you see that one hit in the second set Y/N! Wasn’t it awesome!” Bokuto asked excitedly, bouncing back and forth on the pads of his feet as the two of you had a very animated conversation about the game he just played.

“Of course I did Bo! It was so cool!” You exclaimed back, matching his exuberant energy with your own.

You were incredibly proud of your childhood best friend, and you were super thankful that he just happened to be on the same team as your boyfriend. It made it to where you were always able to cheer both of them on without them being on opposite sides of the court. In your eyes, it was a win-win.

“Yeah well, maybe it was ‘cause someone gave you an awesome set,” Atsumu grumbled just loud enough for you and Bokuto to hear as he stood a couple of feet away from you with his arms crossed and a childish scowl on his face.

“Oh, don’t be like that Tsumu. Bo’s spike was fantastic!” You lightly scolded the blonde to which he just made a ‘hmph’ sound before turning and sulking away.

You had no clue why Tsumu got like this when you congratulated Bokuto. It wasn’t like you didn’t congratulate him as well. You always made sure that the blonde was the first and the last to receive cheers from you. So you had no idea why he was being so fussy lately.

As Atsumu walked away Bokuto could practically see the waves of anger radiating off of his back, and he guiltily ignored them. He knew why Atsumu acted like that when Y/N congratulated his spikes. He knew why Atsumu hated the idea of his girlfriend going to the gym and hanging out with one of his teammates.

He knew that the way that he interacted with Y/N made Atsumu angry, but he ashamedly did it regardless.

He couldn’t help it. The two of you had been so close as children, you grew up together, he knew everything about you. He knew your favorite color, all of your fears, your dreams, and when the two of you had decided to attend different high schools and got out of touch it had really hurt him.

That was why he was so happy when he joined the Jackals, that you just happened to be the girlfriend of one of his new teammates. Over the last couple of months, the two of you had re-ignited your old friendship and things were just like old times.

Well, they were just like old times until Bokuto realized that you weren’t the kid he used to know. Your personality was fundamentally the same, but drastically different at the same time.

He remembered back in primary school just how shy and insecure of a girl you were. He remembered defending you against the people who would bully you for your size, and comforting you when you cried about the mean things they would say.

Bokuto had always despised those people that had made you hate yourself. So every chance he got he would try to cheer you up and let you know just how great you really were.

Over the years, that insecure part of you really changed. It changed so much that at first Bokuto wasn’t sure if it was really you. No longer did you walk with your gaze on the floor, covering your body with too-baggy clothing. No longer did you apologize unnecessarily or hold your tongue in conversations.

The moment that he’d seen you with Atsumu, he was completely taken back. You had been wearing a corset top and jeans that perfectly hugged your plush frame as well as a pair of black heels.

You had always been afraid of showing your body like that in the past. You didn’t like the way that your stomach wasn’t flat or the way that your thighs rubbed together and shook when you walked. He’d also never seen you in a pair of heels before, you were always afraid of being taller than the guys seeing as you were already pretty tall without heels on.

Much to Bokuto’s surprise and delight, you finally seemed comfortable in your body, confident even. And for good reason too because, in Bokuto’s opinion, your body had developed into one of the best bodies he’d ever seen. He would discreetly stare at you when you were with the team, his eyes fixating on the way that you jiggled and bounced every time you moved. He couldn’t help but develop a bit of jealousy towards Atsumu. After all, you were the blonde’s and not his, and sometimes, he would let his mind stray and wonder if he’d be in Atsumu’s place if the two of you had never lost touch.

“Anyways,” you said, pulling Bokuto out of his small daydream, “Are you guys gonna go out and celebrate tonight?”

You made sure to ask loud enough to where all of the Jackal’s heard. The players you didn’t speak to much just ignored you, including the captain who muttered something about being way too beat to go clubbing.

Hinata said he was going to go and hang out with Kageyama.

Sakusa said he wanted to go shower and rest.

And Atsumu was still fuming to himself, refusing to acknowledge your question.

“Hmm, I guess not,” Bokuto said, his hair slightly deflating. He was thinking about how it would be fun to go out when his body suddenly reminded him of the hard game that he just played. “To tell the truth Y/N, I’m pretty exhausted. I think I’ll follow Kiyoomi’s lead and just rest up.”

You frowned, yet nodded in understanding. They just played a really strenuous match so you couldn’t blame any of them for not feeling up to going out.

“I get it, make sure you all recover well!” you offered, your bright signature smile coming across your face and managing to increase the atmosphere’s energy a bit.

Bokuto waved as he and Hinata left the gym to head back to the hotel they were staying at for the night, each of them recapping their best plays of the night like feuding children.

You waved back before turning to your boyfriend, your frown returning when you saw that he was still sulking.

Atsumu didn’t even acknowledge you as he walked right past you and stomped out of the gym. Your frown only deepened at your boyfriend’s behavior, was he really opposed to you congratulating his teammates?

“Hey!” you called after Atsumu, trying to jog to catch up to him. “Hey!” you restated, you could tell that he was taking a little longer strides than usual, knowing that your chubby legs wouldn’t be able to keep up unless you shifted from a walk to a jog.

After he still didn’t reply, you decided to hold your tongue until you got to his hotel room, you didn’t want everyone in the building hearing your relationship squabbles and you definitely didn’t want to attract the attention of any paparazzi.

The walk to the hotel was dead silent. Atsumu was making no attempt to talk to you, and you decided that if he didn’t want to talk to you, you didn’t want to talk to him. And even if you did want to talk to him, you’d have to jog as you did it seeing as the asshole was still walking just fast enough to stay two or three strides ahead of you.

Once you made it to the hotel and after a very awkward elevator ride, the two of you arrived at the door to his room. He turned to look at you.

“You’re not planning on staying are you?” He asked coldly, looking down his nose at you as your mouth popped open in surprise.

While Atsumu was normally a great boyfriend, he really knew exactly what to say to hurt you. After a couple of months of dating, you had opened up to him about your past traumas and admitted to him that you used to only feel like a nuisance to people. He’d assured you that you were never a nuisance to him, that he could never grow tired of you. And him saying that made you feel a little bit better about that particular insecurity. So when he said that, your heart dropped.

“Oh,” you said quietly.

As soon as your gaze dropped to the floor, Atsumu knew that he’d really fucked up and guilt automatically began eating at his stomach. He felt incredibly bad and yet his mouth wouldn’t open to apologize.

“ok,” you continued, you could feel yourself wanting to cry but stopped yourself in fear of your tears only fueling Atsumu’s annoyance with you.

No one liked a clingy crybaby, you told yourself as you bit your lip to hold back the emotions.

“I guess I’ll just go back home, maybe I’ll see if Bo wants to go get some food,” you mumbled, turning to leave the setter.

“Of fucking course…” you heard Atsumu muttered under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

You turned back around, slightly angry at Atsumu’s attitude. You had tried to be sensible and walk away, giving him space, but if the asshole wanted to talk under his breath at you, you had every right to get angry. If he thought something was wrong he needed to man up and let it out.

“What’d you say?” You asked, your hands starting to fist at your sides.

“You heard me.” Atsumu sneered back, crossing his arms across his chest but not retreating into his hotel room. If anything the actions only caused your frustration to grow. Why the fuck was he being like this? He’s acting like a literal child.

You took a few quick steps towards the blonde, jabbing your finger into his chest as you glared up at him.

“Listen,” you hissed, “I have no fucking clue why you’re acting like this, but it’s not cute and it’s hurting my feelings. I’m not a mind-reader, if you have something bothering you, you have to tell me.”

“What?” Atsumu growled. He couldn’t believe that you really didn’t know what was bothering him. There was no way someone could be that fucking naive.

“You heard me.” you snipped back, your arms coming up to cross your body in a stance mirroring his.

Before you could tell what was happening, Atusmu had grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you inside of his room, the door slamming behind the two of you as he automatically trapped your body against it.

While you were still stunned by the extreme progression of events, Atsumu had unlooped your belt and fastened it around your wrists, securing them firmly behind your back.

“Hey! What the fuck Atsumu!” You seethed, your arms straining against the leather as the position forced your chest out against Atsumu’s.

“You really wanna know what’s bothering me?” he asked, the anger visible on his face.

“Yes!” You exclaimed in frustration, “that’s what I’ve been wanting to know for the last 15 goddamn minutes!”

As soon as you’d finished your sentence, Atsumu’s face got eerily calm. Instead of the scowl that’d been on his face a second ago, there was his usual smirk. A chill ran down your spine.

His hands left their place on your confined wrists to tightly grip your hips, almost hard enough to leave bruises.

“What a dirty mouth for such a pretty little thing.” He drawled, leaning closer to you until you could almost taste the sweat that had dried onto his temples.

“What ar-”

“ Shhh …” he cut you off, one hand coming up to press a finger against your mouth before going back down and curling lightly around your throat. “You wanna know what’s bothering me, Princess?”

His lips were against your jaw, his teeth scraping against the skin as he mumbled.

“Maybe…..” he continued, the hand that was on your hip tracing across your stomach until it came to the button of your jeans. He popped them open, eliciting another protest from you which he silenced with a slightly harder squeeze to your throat.

Your body was betraying you with every touch he left against your skin. You really didn’t want to give him the reactions that he so clearly craved, but you just couldn’t help the way your body responded to him.

“Maybe it’s because you dress like such a little slut at my games…. Are you trying to distract me, Princess?” He asked, his teeth disconnecting from your jaw as he pulled your jeans down and off of your body before reconnecting even rougher than before.

All you’d been wearing to the match was a pair of high waisted denims along with a simple black cropped tank top, you’d have worn one of Atsumu’s jerseys but they were all dirty at the moment. It was a simple outfit, it wasn’t anything to get pissed over, definitely not this pissed.

“No” you mumbled, still not wanting to let Atsumu know that his touch was affecting you as much as it was.

“Or were you trying to distract other guys, Princess? Were ya trying to show off yer pretty body to them like a little whore?”

Atsumu had worked your jeans completely off and was hooking his fingers around the band of your panties, obviously planning to tear them off of you as well.

Atsumu had never called you such mean things before and part of you hated the idea of him trying to tear your confidence down with the terms, but at the same time, there was no denying the terrible effect it was having on your body. You felt yourself getting wetter and wetter at the condescending words of your boyfriend and your resolve was quickly dissipating into the want to obey and submit to him with every fiber of your being.

“N-No!” you stuttered as you squealed at the feeling of Atusumu practically ripping your panties off of your body.

“ Liar.” he spat before taking your soaked panties and stuffing them into your mouth, effectively shutting you up as you moaned around the cloth at the lewd actions.

“You wanted all those guys to stare at yer ass didn’t you?” he asked, punctuating the question with a sharp slap to your ass, making you cry out and fall against his chest as he pulled you into him, one hand gripping your throat still as the other began to roam your plush silhouette.

“Or did you want them looking at your pretty tits?” he continued, taking your tank top between his fingers and pulling it down to expose your heaving chest, discovering that you’d been wearing one of those tops with a built-in bra.

“ A-aa ” you tried to moan out his name around the gag as his graceful setter fingers began to play with your already hard nipples.

“No bra? You really are my little slut aren’t ya? ” One of his hands continued to play with your breasts as the other slowly dragged down your waist, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

You keened against his body as his middle finger roughly slipped across your slit, drawing delicious circles around your clit. The fight in you was almost completely gone. You hadn’t forgiven your asshole boyfriend, it just felt so good to have him pressed up against you like this, touching you, controlling you.

“ Shit... “ he grunted, his finger sliding easily against you due to how incredibly wet you were for him.

His cock was straining against his shorts, but he knew that he didn’t want to give you his cock just yet, he needed to punish you first for how you’d been acting. Acting so naughty, such a little tease. You deserved to be taught a lesson.

“Does watching me play make you horny Princess, do you stand there and imagine getting to sit on my cock?” He asked, his fingers playing with your pussy as he started to walk you into the bathroom, his fingers never leaving your cunt.

“Mhmm.” You moaned in compliance.

Your body was hot with the need for his cock inside of you as the memory of the game played in your head. The way that he moved on the court never failed to soak your panties as you stood and cheered him on in the audience. Every single game you would watch his serves, just thinking about how he was just as powerful off the court as he was on. You couldn’t help but get wet just thinking about the possibility of fucking him after the game.

You thought that, with how Atsumu was acting, you weren’t going to get any victory dick today, turns out that you were obviously wrong. Not only were you getting dick, you were getting it like you’d never gotten it before. You could still feel the anger seeping out of Atsumu as his cruel fingers continued to torture you.

“Well, only good girls get their pussies stuffed.” he breathed against your neck, a pitiful whine leaving your lips as he slowly pushed a finger into your pussy.

“ Are you gonna be a good girl for me? ” He asked, mentally groaning at the way your soft walls clenched around the thick digit.

With the way that your tight wet cunt fluttered around his fingers, he almost forgot why he was mad. It was incredible the way that you could make him forget things like that, the way that you had him wrapped around your cute stubby fingers.

“Mhm!” you nodded frantically. Your hands were still bound and your mouth still gagged, so all you could do to convey your desperate message was moan and rub yourself against Atsumu like a bitch in heat, your hips pathetically trying to fuck yourself down onto his finger.

“What’s that?” he snickered, a second finger pressing into your cunt as the first found your g-spot, stroking up into the spongy texture without mercy.

You cried out, you could feel yourself starting to lose it. Usually, you could last much longer than this, but something about the way that Atsumu was manhandling you this time, made it so much harder to keep cool.

It felt like the setter had taken over all of your senses as he continued to finger fuck you into the wall of the bathroom. One hand was fucking your pussy and massaging your clit while the other was kneading your tits, pinching your nipples. At the same time, his mouth was latched onto your neck, sucking deep bruises into the skin, branding you for his whole team to see.

“That’s right Princess..” he groaned, he could feel you clenching harder around his fingers and he knew that you were getting close. “Imma mark you up so good everyone’s gonna know who you belong to.”

You knew that Atsumu was the jealous, possessive type, but nothing could’ve prepared you for just how extreme the problem was. You still didn’t know what sparked this little tantrum and you had the feeling that you wouldn't be able to pull the reason out of the setter until you let him have his way. Hopefully, you’d be able to walk after.

You could feel your end rising, the familiar feeling of a rubber band in your lower belly getting ready to snap. You threw your head back against the wall, trying to keep yourself from crying with the delicious pressure building up inside of you.

Atsumu must’ve known you were close, he used his free hand to help you rotate your arms over your head, twisting the belt around to allow the movement but not to allow you freedom.

“Hold your cunt open for me baby,” he demanded, guiding your hand down to your pussy and directing your arms to press against your stomach and your fingers to hold yourself open to where he could see his fingers fucking into you.

You were a mess, moaning and drooling around the gag as Atsumu’s gaze focused on the way that you continued to suck him back in with every pump of his wrist. He spat on his other hand before giving your clit a light spank, making you jerk against his hold, all of the air completely leaving your lungs as you clenched around his fingers.

“ Yeah …” he growled, his palm beginning to rub against your clit, the quick wet movements making you start crying with pleasure.

“W-nmnmwn” you begged around the gag, trying to warm Atsumu that you were about to cum. He liked it when you asked permission, so you always did and now your body was conditioned to where you almost couldn’t cum without him saying you could.

“What was that Princess?” he asked smugly, he knew exactly what you were trying to say. He knew that while you were acting like a little whore towards Bokuto lately, he was the one that owned your body, he knew that his baby wouldn’t disobey him and cum without permission.

You continued to beg around the gag, your hips and legs burning with the exertion of searching for your high against his hand. You were getting desperate. You looked up at your boyfriend.

Atsumu almost came at the sight of you looking up at him.

You looked so pretty for him, drool on your chin, tears in your eyes, he swore that before he was done with you, those tears would be running down your face, that he would make you cry and beg for his cock, make you admit that only he could fuck you this good. Not Bokuto, not anyone, just him.

“Do you wanna cum for me, Princess?” He asked.

You nodded.

“Okay then… cum for me Princess …” he demanded, leaning in, pulling down your gag, and taking your lips in a punishing kiss.

You cried out into his mouth, your orgasm finally washing over your body, causing it to spasm and jerk in Atsumu’s grip as he held you to his body, his fingers brutally fucking you through your high.

As soon as you’d stopped shaking, Atsumu slipped his fingers out of you and flipped you around, pressing his cock against your ass as your front was pressed into the bathroom counter. You rested your head down against the mirror, your eyes closing as your body still reeled from your orgasm.

You needed a little breather, but that wasn’t in Atsumu’s plan. His hand came down across your ass, making you squeak and lurch forward, your tits pressing down against the counter and your ass popping up into the air.

“Now come on Princess,” he drawled, pulling his cock out of his pants and thrusting it into you without warning, ripping a cry from your chest, “yer not tired yet are ya? We’re just getting started!”

“Nooo please ‘Tsumu...” you gasped, pushing yourself further into the counter, trying and failing to evade his touch.

His cock was hot and heavy inside of your still spasming pussy. You could feel every vein in him as you continued to pulse around him, he almost felt like his dick was suffocating in your soft puffy walls.

Atsumu groaned as he started to slowly fuck into you. He knew that if he started out going as fast as he’d like to, he’d be finished way too soon for his liking so he decided to slow his hips, his cock languidly dragging against your warm insides.

Atsumu couldn’t help these feelings of jealousy. After all, Bokuto was bigger and stronger than him. Deep down, he knew that the reason he was so bitter about you and the hitter’s friendship was that he was afraid of you leaving him for the owl-like spiker.

That’s why Atsumu chose to fuck you in the bathroom. He knew that the wall in the bathroom was the closest wall to Bokuto’s room. He knew that if he fucked you hard enough, he could make you scream his name loud enough to where his teammate would hear you. Then Bokuto would know just who you wanted stuffing your pretty little pussy.

“Come on Princess.” he teased, his hips grinding against your ass with a particularly hard thrust that had your mouth popping open and your lungs gasping for air.

“ You know you love this cock ……” he grunted when your pussy flared around him, clenching against his cock at the words, he grinned, he never knew that you liked getting fucked like a little slut, but now that he knew he swore that he’d never be able to return to fucking you like he had before. Not with the way that you were leaking for him as his degrading words cut through you like a hot knife.

You’d already adjusted to having him inside of you, the heat of him inside of you only being soothed by the cool countertop against your tits. You moaned with every thrust, you could already feel your mind beginning to fog over as Atsumu thrust behind you, plotting to fuck you dumb.

He suddenly stilled his hips, making you whine, trying to push yourself back onto him.

“‘Tsumu…” you whined, your eyes meeting his in the bathroom mirror, “move…”

He smirked, clicking his tongue at his messed up little baby.

“Tell me how much you love my cock, Princess.” He said, taking his dick completely out of you to rub it against your pussy lips, “tell me how much you love it and maybe I’ll fuck you again.”

Your face burned with humiliation. Atsumu had never acted this way before. Sure he was an asshole, but never this much of an asshole. That being said, there was no denying the impact that this side of Tsumu had on your body. You felt like you’d been enveloped in fire, every part of it burning up with need.

“ Please ‘Tsumu… .” you begged, “ I love your big cock so much….please fuck me …”

Atsumu groaned, his dick twitching against your slit. He loved hearing you like this, your voice broken as you begged for him to fill you. He could see the tears beginning to fall down your cheeks. So pretty.

“Since you asked so nicely Princess-” he cooed before harshly pumping his cock back into you, starting to fuck into you at a pace that had you crying and bucking back against him.

“Fuck!” you cried, “ Fuck- Tsumu…. Harder…. Fuck me harder ” you begged, you let your forehead fall forward against the mirror, your eyes drifting close.

“Shit” Tsumu growled through gritted teeth, you were so tight around him. He looked up to see your eyes closed.

‘Now that won’t do..’ he thought before threading a hand through your hair and pulling your head back off of the mirror, making a moan spill from your mouth and your eyes spring open.

“Come on Princess,” he panted, “ I wanna see your pretty tears while I fuck you. ”

***************

This was Atsumu’s favorite way to fuck you until you were crying and shaking around his cock. You looked so pretty with that dumb little look on your face, your eyes and lips puffy as you begged him to make you cum, telling him that all of it was too much for your poor little pussy.

He knew that you were reaching your limits, your pussy was fucked raw after 4 orgasms. You weren’t even able to form full sentences anymore, the only words coming out of your mouth were ‘more’ and ‘please’ along with all of your pretty pathetic little cries.

“‘Tsumu….” you cried, you could feel your fifth orgasm coming up inside of you. You didn’t know how much longer you could do this. Your clit was almost numb with how abused it’d been. Your nipples and tits were sore, and while you couldn’t see it, you knew that your whole body would be covered in bruises and marks tomorrow.

“ Please….hurts… ”

“Come on Princess….” he murmured as his fingers came down against your clit, “ just one more…”

You just whined in response, your hips jerking slowly against his pace. Your body was almost finished, but you knew that you had to give him just one more...one more and he’d finally let you rest.

“.... ..gonna….. gonna …” you panted.

Atsumu grinned down at you, your body was wrecked, your head was lolled to the side with your tongue hanging out as he fucked you hard enough for your tits and stomach to bounce with each thrust.

God, you looked so perfect for him. The way that your curves pressed against his body, the way that your pussy squelched with each thrust due to all of his cum that he’d dumped inside of you, all of it- all of you, was perfect… you were fucking built just for him.

“Me too baby…” he moaned, tossing his head back as he felt his third and probably finally orgasm approaching.

His fingers started playing with your puffy clit even faster making you choke on your tears, a new feeling entirely rising up.

You’d never felt this before, a look of horror suddenly came over your face as you began to feel like you were gonna piss.

“no… ’Tsumu!” you cried out, his pace not stopping at all as he began to feel your walls growing stiff.

He’d read about this before on the internet, seen it in porn, but never did he think that he’d actually be blessed enough to witness it.

“Fuck…” he moaned, his voice breaking as he sped up against your pussy.

“No… ” you gripped his forearms in fear, if you accidentally pissed on your boyfriend, you’d be left with no choice but to break up with him out of pure humiliation.

“ Please stop ‘Tsumu…’m gonna make a mess .”

He groaned at the fat tears rolling down your face. He knew what you were thinking, you’d probably never squirted for anyone before, you were probably surprised and scared. He knew he should reaffirm you, tell you it was okay. But he couldn't help but love the panic mixed with pleasure on your face as you begged him to stop.

“Come on Princess.” he panted, “ come on ….”

His hips were snapping into your at an inhuman speed now, each time his cock head bumped up against your g-spot.

“ You can do it Princess …” he promised, his fingers urging you to let you.

You shook your head, the tears of embarrassment running down your chin as you desperately tried to keep it in. You cried out, you could feel yourself starting to slip.

“ No- Fuck! ‘Tsumu!” you screamed, your body starting to convulse as liquid gushed out of your pussy, soaking Atsumu’s cock as he cummed into you, his eyes almost going crossed as you squirted all over his hips, the clear liquid running down his balls and dripping onto the bathroom floor.

“Fuck….yeah… squirt for me Babe. .” he groaned, riding out his high as you cried and gasped out his name.

He finally slowed his hips, your body completely limp with humiliation beneath him.

“Such a good girl….” he soothed, pushing the sweat-soaked hair out of your face as you continued to bawl.

“ ‘M sorry ‘Tsumu… ” you sobbed, still thinking you pissed all over your boyfriend’s cock.

“Don’t be sorry Princess, you did so good…you squirted so good for me Baby..you made such a good mess for me.”

For some reason, at Atsumu’s soft words, you began to cry even harder. Even as he assured you that you didn’t piss on him, you couldn’t help the tears of exhaustion that kept spilling over your cheeks.

“Are you okay baby?” he asked, guilt eating at his stomach as your crying didn’t cease.

Did he go too hard? Was it too much? Fuck! He couldn’t lose you, what if you didn’t like it? What if you left him?”

“F-felt so good ‘Tsumu….” you cried, finally returning his embrace as you wiped your tears against his defined chest, your soft body squishing against his athletic one as the hand rubbing your back stilled.

“Why are you crying then baby?” he asked gently, his fingers hooking under your chin as you sniffled.

“I dunno…” you whimpered, your eyes glossily staring back up at your boyfriend. Your body was completely blissed out, you could nothing but cry.

“Ok Baby… let’s get you cleaned up,” Atsumu whispered, gently lifting you off of the counter and guiding you to the shower so he could clean you up.

As he washed your plush body, he couldn’t help but admire his work. Every part of you looked absolutely fucked out and he quickly decided that he would die for you as you yawned, leaning yourself against him.

He kept whispering to you about how good you felt, how good you were for him, how he didn’t deserve you. Your body glowed with the soft compliments, a complete opposite of how he’d acted as he fucked you past over-stimulation.

After he finished washing you, he kissed you deeply, his strong arms wrapping around your body.

“Can you walk Baby?” he asked, softly wrapping a fluffy towel around your naked body.

You shook your head, sticking your bottom lip out in a pout.

“That’s okay..” he chuckled, his thumb running over your cheeks as he stared at you lovingly. “I’ll carry you wherever you want to go okay?”

You nodded, willing yourself not to start crying again at his soft words. You wrapped your arms around his neck, jumping a little to help him hoist you as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

He walked you into the room, resting you in the bed and pulling the comforter up around you before snuggling into the other side, his body automatically coming up to spoon yours.

“I love you, Princess,” he whispered adoringly, his fingers brushing against your bruised skin.

“Mmmm…love you too..” you hummed, your body so exhausted that you quickly started snoring, making Atsumu grin.

He thought about how lucky he was to have you. He could safely say that he was completely satisfied with how loud you’d been for him, with how nicely you’d let him claim you.

*************

“Fuck…” Bokuto whispered, his back was still pressed against the shower wall. His hand was still wrapped around his softening cock as he stared at the cum washing down the drain.

All he’d wanted to do was grab a quick shower. He never expected what had happened.

His eyes closed as he willed himself not to get hard again as he recalled how your moans sounded through the wall as you cried for Atsumu’s cock.

He felt ashamed for the reaction he’d had to it. Felt ashamed of how hard his cock had gotten. Most of all, he was ashamed that he’d stood there and fucked his fist to the sound of you screaming for your boyfriend.

He sighed, getting out of the shower and toweling off, trying desperately to push the memories of those noises out of his head.

Suddenly his phone buzzed.

‘Hope you liked the show ;)’ - Miya Atsumu

He scowled down at his phone before throwing it back onto the floor. He flopped down into his bed.

He could still hear your voice,

‘Fuck ‘Tsumu! M cumming!.....fuuucckk….’

Yep. He was going to be hard for the next year.

How was he ever going to look you in the face again?

[sunmoonandeddie]

feelings are fatal (22/24)

pairing: bucky barnes x reader, past steve rogers x reader

word count: 4,570

summary: After the events of Endgame, you struggle to come to terms with what you’ve lost, though you’re learning that you still have something to gain.

chapter warnings: swearing, violence, SMUT, major character death

masterlist

a/n: are enjoying

The next morning, you stirred at the feeling of hot, open mouthed kisses on your neck. The smell of Bucky’s shampoo filled your nose as he moved down your naked body. His thick stubble scratched against your skin as he lavished your tits in attention, lips wrapping around a hardening nipple and sucking.

Eyes fluttering open, you let out a deep moan as your hands moved to cradle his head, fingers running through his thick hair. “Jamie…”

“Good morning, malen’kaya,” he chuckled, circling his tongue around the bud before moving to your other breast. “Was gonna let you sleep a little longer, but I couldn’t resist…” His vibranium hand tickled your skin as it moved to cup your core, teasing you as he slid his fingers through your soaked folds. “So beautiful… like a goddess…” He groaned at how your legs instinctively fell open for him, your cunt clenching around nothing. “God… Could stay between these pretty thighs forever.”

Fuck, what was he doing to you? You didn’t think you’d survive any more of his dirty talk.

The fireplace had gone out sometime in the night, and the living room was lit up in bright white light. You realized that at sometime after you fell asleep, the temperature had dropped and the rain had turned into snow, and there was now a thick blanket covering the ground outside.

It was something out of a fairytale.

A sleepy smile spread over your lips, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, quickly rolling the two of you over so you were straddling him. “Let me treat you this time,” you said as you leaned down, kissing him as your hands rested on his chest. “Last night was about me… Want this to be about you, too…” Heart pounding, you rested your forehead against his. “Everything in my world is about you.”

There was something… heartbreaking in his eyes. Something that just reminded you of how little he’d been treated, taken care of by someone who loved him.

How long had it been since he’d been someone’s first priority?

“Are you sure, sweetheart?” He breathed out, his hands settling on your hips as he looked up at you in wonder. “I… I wanna make you feel good.”

“Jamie,” you said, taking his vibranium hand and resting it over your heart. “You always make me feel good… You never have to wonder about that…”

Bucky’s mouth parted, unspoken words waiting on his lips, before he decided to kiss you instead. “Make me feel good, angel… Make me yours.”

It’s all the encouragement you need.

With one hand, you reach between you and wrap your hand around his length, guiding him to your entrance. Your mouth slotted against his as you sunk onto him with a low whimper. Even though you’d just taken him the night before, it was still a challenge.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Bucky gasped. His flesh hand gripped your hip, and you moaned at the thought of him leaving bruises behind, marking you as his.

Did this mean you were his?

What did this mean for the two of you?

Eyes fluttering shut, you let your head fall to your chest as you bottomed out, taking a moment to breathe and adjust.

Believe it or not, there’s really no pussy ready for a super soldier cock.

That’s just a scientific fact, you were sure.

“Fucking made for me… You were made for me,” Bucky choked out underneath you.

Well. He might have something to say about that scientific fact.

But saying that meant he definitely felt the way you did, right?

You really needed to not get in your head and just… let yourself enjoy this. Bucky was the first person you’d slept with (granted, he was only the second one) that had been more focused on you than himself.

“Baby…,” Bucky said, a low whine coming from his throat as he squeezed his eyes shut. “Please… Please, move.”

It shocked you to your core, seeing how desperate he was for you.

You did that. You made him that needy.

You were the one making him feel good.

Finally, you slowly began to roll your hips, moaning low. “You’re so big… filling me up so good…”

Bucky groaned, finally opening his eyes to watch as you moved, his eyes flickering between your face and where you two were joined together, as though he couldn’t decide which he’d rather watch.

You could only imagine how much dirtier his mouth was gonna get during rough, filthy sex.

Not that you didn’t love the soft, romantic sex you were having.

No, you love loved the intimate love making.

You loved him.

Every part of your body was on fire as you rode him slow, finding what made you feel best. You were quickly learning that if it made you feel good, it made him feel good, and you both won.

It was the lazy morning sort of love making that you’d never gotten to experience before. Filled with giggles and sweet nothings, quiet moans. At one point, he’d even started to tickle you, and you’d had to stop for a moment to catch your breath before you continued to ride him.

When the two of you finally reached your climaxes, you just laid on his chest with his softening cock still tucked inside of your pussy, keeping his cum from dripping out.

Not for the first time, you’d really wished that you could get pregnant. A fantasy of your tummy big and round and Bucky holding a toddler on his hip while you two walked in the park flashed through your mind for just a brief moment.

A brief, lovely, perfect moment.

Bucky’s eyes were half closed, his chest slowly rising and falling with each breath. His flesh hand smoothed over your hair, not wanting to catch it in the metal plates of his vibranium hand. He looked so peaceful.

You could say it. You could tell him you loved him, and hell, he might even say it back.

“Jamie,” you said slowly, mouth opening as you tried to gather up the courage to say the words.

“Yeah, honey?” He mumbled, half asleep. His fingers were starting to slow down as he continued to run them over your head.

“I—”

You were cut off by the shrill tone of his cell phone, followed by yours still in the kitchen.

The same thought ran through both you and Bucky’s brains.

If you were both being called separately, it was probably an emergency.

You winced as you got up, mumbling a sorry. It probably wasn’t the best way to stand, since his cock had still been inside of you, and it probably hadn’t felt very pleasant. Cum trickled down your thighs as you grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around yourself before tossing his phone to him and moving to get yours in the kitchen.

“Hey, what’s up?” You heard him say as you finally grabbed yours from beside the empty sink.

Pepper’s name was flashing across the screen.

Fuck.

“Pepper? What’s going on?” You asked as you answered the phone, slipping out onto the front porch. Even though it was freezing, you curled up on the swing, letting it sway you a bit as you settled down.

She wouldn’t have called and interrupted your vacation if it wasn’t serious. After all, she knew how important it was, and you had more than an inkling that she knew something would have eventually happened between you and Bucky.

“Hey, sweetheart…,” she said quietly, her voice cracking. “Um… I know this is inconvenient and sudden… but you and Bucky need to come back. Actually, um… You need to come to Buffalo.”

“Buffalo?” You said in confusion, pulling your knees up to your chest as a shiver ran down your spine. “What’s in Bu—” You stopped yourself as you realized. Steve. Steve and Peggy Rogers were in Buffalo. “Pepper, what’s… What’s going on? What happened?”

“Steve, uh… Steve’s in the hospital. They don’t think he’s going to make it through the week.”

You couldn’t hear anything. Only ringing.

Vaguely, you were sure that you heard Pepper telling you what hospital he was at.

You needed to… to do something. You needed to get dressed.

No, a shower. A shower first.

The thought of going to see your dying ex-lover while you still had his best friend’s cum drying on your legs made you sick to your stomach.

“Pepper?” You said, interrupting her. “I’ll… I’ll call you when we’re on our way, okay? I… I need to pack and grab a shower real quick…” You hung up before she could respond, your hands shaking as you stared out at the snow that was still falling down in thick sheets.

Eventually, you got up and headed back inside. You weren’t shocked to see your suitcases already almost entirely packed, Bucky having redressed and rushing around getting ready to leave.

“Um… I’m guessing you know?” You asked after a long moment.

“Yeah. Sam told me.”

Your hand was shaking as you started to reach out for him, just to drop it. “I… I’m gonna go grab a shower before you go,” you said, heading for the stairs.

Bucky scoffed, shaking his head. “No. We don’t have time. We need to get there.”

Stopping a few steps up, you gripped the railing. “Well, I need a shower beforehand. I’ll take ten minutes.”

The slam of a suitcase on the hardwood floor made you turn around just to meet his glare. “What part of ‘we need to get there’ don’t you understand? Steve might not make it through the fucking week. He might not make it through today, and you’re worried about a fucking shower?”

“Well, I’m sorry that I don’t want to go see Steve in the hospital while I still smell of sex!” You snapped right back at him, chest heaving. “While we’ve been here… fucking, he’s been… He’s…”

Were you betraying Steve?

But Steve had heavily implied that he wanted you two together.

“Right. We were just fucking,” Bucky said, a wall going up between the two of you as he turned back to packing. “Just… Go take your shower. I’ll get the car started.”

It didn’t feel good, having an argument with him. You and Bucky being tense with each other felt so unnatural, so fundamentally wrong.

You bit your hand harshly as you stood under the hot water to muffle your sob. It was all so wrong.

What if Steve dying was the universe’s way of telling you that you’d fucked up? That you shouldn’t have slept with Bucky, and now it was punishing you.

You and Steve still weren’t buddy buddy, but you did care about him, even after everything he’d done.

You didn’t just lose that love. It transformed into something different.

When you finally got out, you’d scrubbed your skin raw, trying so desperately to get Bucky off of you.

Which felt like yet another betrayal.

What was going on in your mind? Why were you feeling like this?

The stairs creaked underneath you as you finally dragged yourself down to the living room, watching as Bucky threw the last suitcases in the car. Shifting your remaining duffel on your shoulder, you slipped on your shoes before heading out and climbing into the passenger seat without a word. The air was heavy and thick as he got into the driver’s seat and slammed his door shut.

He had apparently had time to shovel the driveway, which meant that your shower had definitely been longer than you’d intended.

Which meant he was probably even more pissed than before.

Great.

The several hours to the hospital in Buffalo was completely quiet. Neither one of you said a word, and for once, it wasn’t the silence that came with being so comfortable with someone you didn’t have to say a word. Not even the radio was on.

By the time the two of you got to the hospital, the sun was setting and the snow had stopped for the time being.

“What took you so long?” Wanda asked with a weak laugh when she saw you two enter. “Someone needed to take a shower,” Bucky snapped before leaving you with her, heading straight for Steve’s room.

You could only watch him leave you behind for the first time in your life, heart shattering a little more. Your lower lip wobbled as he turned down another hall out of sight.

Bucky swallowed around the lump in his throat as he saw Steve’s family—the one he’d abandoned you for—all sitting and standing along the wall. He couldn’t meet any of their eyes as Peggy nodded to the door.

“He’s been waiting for you,” she said in that gentle British lilt of here.

“Thanks, Peg,” he said faintly, before heading inside. It was strange. He had stormed here in a blaze of fury, and now it was… diminished. Like he couldn’t go inside.

“Buck? Is that you?” Steve called out from his hospital bed, letting out a cough.

He took in a shaky breath, before slowly heading inside. “Hey, punk,” he said as he moved to sit next to him. He was doing his best to ignore the beeping and all of the machines and wires attached to him. “How you doing?”

“I’ve been better,” he admitted with a laugh, rubbing his legs tiredly. “But I’m real glad you’re here… I know the last time we talked…”

Bucky shook his head. “No… It’s okay. We were all tense, remember? And she’s home… safe and sound now.”

And thinking that he was pissed off with you.

Fuck.

Everything that had happened after the phone call… shouldn’t have happened. The look on your face when he’d snapped at you… God, he could just fucking shove his head through a wall.

“You gonna take good care of her?” Steve asked with a faint smile, reaching over and taking his hand. “If you don’t, I’ll haunt you. I’ll haunt you really good, jerk.”

The man let out a weak laugh, letting his head hang. “I will… You know I will.”

“I know. I just wanted to hear you say it.” The blond let out a sigh as he took a long look at him. “There’s so much I could say. But I think you already know. You know how much I love you.”

Bucky nodded, tears welling up in his eyes. “I love you, too, Steve. I…” He shook his head, standing up and rubbing his hands over his face. “I just gotta know…,” he said slowly. “I gotta know… was it worth it? Leaving her?”

Steve thought for a long time, just staring out the window. For a moment, Bucky almost thought he hadn’t heard his question. “I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “I fucked up a lot in my relationship with her… And by the time I left… I wasn’t the man she deserved. I don’t know if I ever was.” He swallowed around the lump in his throat, voice sounding tight. “We were both too young. We didn’t know anything about being in a relationship. But…” He gave Bucky a watery smile. “But if I hadn’t left, she wouldn’t have come here with you. And that alone makes it worth it. Sure, I could’ve stayed… But it never would’ve been the easy kind of love you two have always shared, even back when we were still together. You two… move like water. Even despite the little tizzy you two are in right now.” He let out a laugh, running his fingers through his gray hair.

“If you had stayed, I wouldn’t have stepped in,” Bucky insisted as he looked out the window, seeing the snow starting up again. “I would’ve let you two be happy.”

“I know. And that’s why I had to go.”

And it struck Bucky as he was walking down the hall to go get you, to send you in, that Steve still loved you. Probably more than he let on. Despite his love for Peggy, you were still occupying a very large chunk of his heart.

And his way of making up for all the pain he had put you through was to step aside and give you and Bucky the freedom to be happy.

To have that easy, moving like water kind of love.

He knew that what you and Steve had would never be what’s best for you and your happiness.

Steve had fundamentally changed as a person after he came out of the ice. He slowly became more and more selfish, demanding more and more of the people around him, including you.

This was his way of righting it, knowing that there was a chance that you’d hate him for the rest of your life.

Which meant the things he’d been saying to you… about how your relationship was nice…

Steve was getting you to let him go, to move on from him so you could be the happiest person you could be.

“What happened?” Wanda asked faintly in the waiting room as she reached out and wiped a stray tear from your face.

“I think I fucked everything up,” you admitted after a long moment, unable to move your gaze away from where he’d disappeared. “We… We slept together.”

Her bright eyes went as round as saucers at your confession, and she looked around before pulling you somewhere more private. “Tell me everything.”

So you did. You started at the very beginning, how the trip had been a fairytale. How you two had finally given into your desires, the romantic words and sweet kisses.

And then about the phone call from Pepper. How dirty you felt. The guilt.

“I’ve made such a mess of things,” you said, barely audible. You were staring at a spot on the wall, eyes unfocused. “You should’ve seen the way he looked at me… like me… like he was disgusted with me…”

“Oh, honey,” she said slowly, her eyes soft. “He could never be disgusted with you.”

Before you could reply, Bucky appeared from the hall. “He wants to speak to you,” he said quietly, avoiding your eyes. His fists were clenching and unclenching at his sides. There was something different in his tone than from when you two had first gotten to the hospital.

God, you wanted to say something. You wanted to scream at him, tell him that you loved him, that you didn’t wanna do this angry bullshit.

Nothing mattered more than him.

He was your entire world.

But he wouldn’t even look at you.

So you just nodded and moved past him, careful not to touch him as you headed for Steve’s room. You could tell which one it was because Peggy and a large group of Rogerses that you recognized from the photos in their home were all sitting outside.

“Hi,” you said weakly, gaining their attention. Shrinking, you turned your gaze to the ground, awkwardly rocking back and forth on your heels.

Peggy breathed out your name, moving to hug you. “Thank you for coming,” she whispered. “I… I know you and Steve and I aren’t all on the best terms…”

“Peggy, you and me are perfect,” you said as you looked at her, taking her hands after a moment. “The decisions he made were not your fault. And I know… I heard you recently found out more… decisions he made when we were on the run… and I don’t want you to be angry with him for that. The Steve that did that…” You took in a deep breath. “That Steve was jaded by the world around him. He was so used to putting himself on the line that he expected everyone else to do the same, demanded it of us sometimes… But… He’s different. Even from before we went on the run.” A weak smile painted your face. “He’s the best man he can be when he’s with you. And it took me a while but… I can’t be angry with either of you for that…”

Peggy hugged you tightly, squeezing you close. “Thank you. Thank you.” She didn’t bother introducing you to their children and grandchildren, choosing instead to usher you towards the hospital room Steve was occupying.

The faint beeping became louder and louder as you moved closer, heart pounding in time. “Hi.”

You never thought you’d see him like this. Old. Weak. His physical body struggling to stay alive.

His eyes slowly opened, and a familiar smile spread over his face. “Hey, there, sweetheart… What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

“Visiting an old friend. Old as in elderly,” you tried to joke as you moved closer, sitting by his side.

His face was pale, his hair limp. You hadn’t ever seen him with under eye circles, but there they were. For once he looked his age.

His frail, shaky hand reached out towards yours, and you took in a long breath as you took it, clasping it with both of yours. The contrast between you was so clear now. His aged, wrinkled hands. Your young and supple fingers squeezing him.

“You always did have a wicked sense of humor,” he teased, eyes crinkling.

“Stevie… Stevie, what happened?” You asked, your throat closing up as tears welled up in your eyes. “The… The serum. You’re not supposed to go yet. You’re supposed to live until you’re a million, right?”

“I thought so, too, sweetheart,” he sighed, taking in all your features. “But I had a heart attack… a pretty bad one… And based on my health right now… my doctors don’t think I’ll make it to Friday.”

“But people come back from heart attacks,” you tried to say, a few stray tears trailing down your cheeks. “People come back from heart attacks all the time, and you… you have the serum. Why can’t you recover from this?”

Steve tightened his grip on your hand. “Honey, the serum is gone,” he breathed out. “It’s worn off now. I… I was just enjoying the residual effects…” Reaching up, he wiped one of your eyes. “Now… No more talking of me dying. That’s boring. You wanna tell me what happened between you and Buck? I’ve never seen him look like that.”

“Um…” Fuck, this was so awkward. You resolutely stared at where you were holding his hand. “We slept together for the first time last night… and then this morning… and then we got the call and he just looked… so disgusted with me. I told him I needed to shower before we left and he yelled at me…”

Steve winced, sighing as he squeezed your hand. “He’ll get the sense knocked into him. You’ll see. Both of you were just… in shock.”

“And I may have made it sound like it wasn’t anything more than a fuck.”

He blinked at you, as though trying to control the urge not to tell you how much of an idiot you were, even though you already knew. “At least you’ve already gotten the sense knocked into you.”

Out in the waiting room, Wanda was sitting next to Bucky. Sam, Pepper, Morgan, and a few other members of the team were all scattered around. “Let’s take a walk, Barnes,” the witch ordered, leaving no room for argument as she stood up and led him outside.

The super soldier blinked at her for a moment before standing up and following her out.

“So… You two finally did the deed?” She asked, a smirk coming over her face as she shoved her hands in her pockets. She seemed to not be bothered by the cold, but her nose was bright red from the bite of the wind.

“Oh, come on. Did she tell you?” Bucky asked with a groan, running his fingers through his hair. It had gotten to that half-long type of deal, and he either needed to get a haircut or let it keep growing.

Then again, you had seemed to really enjoy it last night.

Wanda rolled her eyes as she gave him a look. “She didn’t need to. Sometimes I can’t stop myself from reading people’s minds, especially when they’re both literally screaming out that they slept together.” She didn’t wait for him to come up with a reply. “She thinks you’re disgusted with her.”

“What?!” He asked, his blue eyes going wide as he looked at her. “No! How could I… How…”

The way he’d looked at her. How your anxiety and abandonment issues were just waiting for him to leave.

How could you not be afraid of that? You’d lost Tony and Natasha in one fell swoop. And then Steve had abandoned you, even if his reasons weren’t as fucked as you thought.

And here he was, being a total fucking asshole over something neither of you were at fault for.

He needed to talk to you. He really needed to talk to you.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Wanda snorted. “Fuck.” But when he moved to go inside, she grabbed his arm to stop him. “No. She’ll come to you. Now isn’t the time.”

Bucky hated that she was right. “Yeah,” he said as he shoved his hands in his pockets, looking up at the dark clouds overhead, snow dusting his hair. It had absolutely nothing on the storm in his heart.

“Steve?” You said quietly as you rubbed your hand over his. “Do you think we would’ve been happy? If you had stayed?”

It was selfish to ask him, you knew that. It was horrible and self-serving. But you needed to know.

“We would have,” he said, his voice low and gravelly as his eyes stayed locked on your face. “You have no idea how much I love you. But… we never would’ve had it easy. You deserve the love that’s easy, that’s two puzzle pieces fitting together. You understand?”

You nodded, wiping at your face as you tried to stop crying. “Yeah. Yeah, I understand.” You let out a choked sob, unable to hold it back as he reached up and tenderly cupped your cheek. “You weren’t supposed to leave so soon. I can’t lose you, too.”

“Darling, I’ve lived my life,” he insisted sternly, getting you to look at him. “And you’re not losing me. I’ll always be in here.” His finger pointed at your heart. “And I got what feels like a million children and grandchildren. I have a legacy more important than any fucking shield.” Steve’s smile was shaky, watery. “I’ve lived a life. Now you gotta live yours without regret… without holding back. Because doll, of all the things I’ve done… loving you and losing you to the love of your life is one of the best.”

“Steve?” You whispered as his eyes fluttered shut. The beeping in the background was slowing down. “Stevie?... Stevie, come on. You gotta… You gotta stay awake. I-I can go get P-Peggy!” You turned to shout, but you were stopped by a squeeze of his hand.

“She knows,” he rasped. “She knows, sweetheart… It’s time for me to rest.”

Your heart shattered inside your chest as you heard the line go flat, clutching onto his hand. “Stevie?” You let out a sob as you held his hand to your cheek. “Stevie… Please… You weren’t supposed to leave so soon… I didn’t get… Stevie…”

His hand was already going cold, his fingers limp.

Steve was gone.

[radiosandrecordings]

Crossposting my @summer-in-the-archives-event fic here too. [AO3] [Accompanying beautiful art]

He’d never get used to the rolling fields of quiet.

Miles behind and miles to go, not that he could see any of it through the thick blanket of fog that clung to his ankles, and his wrists, and his eyes. Miles to go before I sleep…

It was hard to describe the rain that fell, because even ‘fell’ felt like too active a descriptor. It didn’t pour, it didn’t ‘beat down’, it didn’t pelt, because those all required a sense of agency that the landscape just felt too apathetic to muster. It simply existed, and just happened to be moving downwards by coincidence.

Jon wasn’t sure if he knew or Knew that it seeped into his clothes, coating his skin, but he couldn’t even feel the droplets landing, even pinpricks of touch creating too much of a sensation for this place. He briefly wondered that, if he still had need for his glasses, would the rain even make the effort to trickle down and cloud the lenses.

The last Lonely domain he’d passed through, he’d never seen the avatar that lorded over it. He didn’t have any real interest in finding out, not like the personal vendettas that lead him to seeking out Jude, or Jared. Because with Peter dead he wasn’t left with any Lonely avatars left to chase, save the vague notions of the Lukas extended family. He was simply going to keep his head down and keep trudging, hopefully emerging through the thick banks of mist before he lost his mind to the monotony. If there was ever something to make you miss muffled cries from beneath the earth…

“Why are you here?”

The sound was accusatory, and may as well have been a shotgun in the silence. The damped chill was nothing in comparison to the ice that shot up his spine. The voice had no clear origin, no figures even silhouetted in shadow against the overgrown grass, but it came in close, delivered on the gentle, numbing breeze. Despite this, though, never in a thousand domains could he forget the sound of it. Of course it was his. Of course. Of course. “Martin?”

“No! ”

The voice sounded… Angry. But hurt, like it flinched away from the word. Like something that had been left to sit in the dark too long, that recoiled back from a stinging source of light.

“... I’m going to assume no one has called you that in a long time.” He tried to keep his voice light, as much as the stifling atmosphere would allow it.

“No one is anything here. It’s easier that way. If you’re somebody, you can be hurt. If you have too much personality, too many little facets and cracks, things start to snag and catch on it, and it drags you down to where things ache. But if you’re nothing, then they don’t have anything to cling onto. You can just slip away unharmed.” The voice sounded like it was moving, curling around him and moving from ear to ear, forward and back as it droned on in that echoing monotone that Jon had hoped he would never hear again, and at the same time, had longed to.

“And what about the good things?”

“There isn’t anything good, not anymore. You saw to that.”

Jon snorted. “Low blow, but fair.” He hesitated for a moment, trying to summon the words.

He’d had time, after he left the Lonely, to consider his actions. Regret pooled like acid in his stomach at the memory, and somehow it hurt more than ending the world. He wouldn’t say it was more important. He knew whatever he felt, and moreso, knew that one human life, was not paramount to the suffering of every creature great and small, but it felt more tangible. When he walked through the hellscapes, they were dreamlike, hazy, information in such clarity but to an extreme where it still felt nonsensical to perceive it as reality. He knew the fundamental truths that surrounded him but it still felt hard to accept them even as he lived them.

Yet despite having lived without it for eight months prior, the space beside him that failed to solidify into Martin still stung with his absence. And Jon regretted it every not-day he spent walking the hellscape, both in knowing he doomed a good man to suffering, or worse, revelry, in this new world, and in the far more personal, and far more selfish, part of him that missed him so goddamn much.

“But- But Martin, I think I made a mistake.”

“Obviously.”

“Not- Not that. I mean, when we were in the Lonely. The- The first time. With Peter Lukas.” The silence droned on, and Jon took that as his cue to continue. “Do you remember what I said? That maybe you were safer here? And that’s… That’s why I let you stay. I didn’t push you to, to leave with me because I thought you wanted to be here, that you’d be safer here than you’d be with me. But I don’t think that was entirely true.”

“I am safe here.”

“Maybe so. It doesn’t mean it’s better though, does it. Martin, I saw those people, in the last Lonely domain. I know it’s different, they were victims and you’re… You’re an avatar, here, you’re feeding off of all of this, but I promise you they were not happy. They were so alone and it didn’t protect them, it just made it worse. Think about it, the logic of this world. There are threats out there of unimaginable horror, and yet they were still assigned here, it’s their worst nightmare. And you were assigned here too. You’re all suffering, just in different ways, but all calculated to be your personal worst.”

“The Martin Blackwood you thought you knew doesn’t exist anymore. He had to be filed down, too many breaks and tears in him that grew and grew, any time someone raised a harsh word. The best way for him to be protected, is for him to go away entirely. You cannot hurt something that doesn’t exist.”

“Are you sure about that? Because you just said ‘I’.”

“What? ” That anger reemerged again, and as staunched as it was it was beautiful, a return to form amongst the dull monotone, reminiscent of the few times Jon had been privileged enough to witness a truly pissed off Martin Blackwood.

Jon found himself grinning. “You said ‘I am safe here’. Emphasis on the ‘I’. Ergo, you still have some form of identity left, and thus I would wager that the part of you left is Martin. Unless I’ve wandered across some other avatar of the Lonely who sounds like him, of course.”

“You’re always so fucking smug, you know that?”

The voice is coming from behind him. Actually, physically, presently behind him and Jon spins around so fast he’s almost dizzy.

And as much as it made his heart soar, and much as he was glad to finally, finally , see him again when he’d thought he never would, Martin looked… Bad.

His skin had darkened, mottled and blotchy with large swathes of a bruise-like blue or sickly green cropping up across his face and neck, or the parts of his forearms visible where his cable knit sleeves rolled back. It was like frostbite from the cold, or some disturbing onset of trench-foot from the damp, corpselike and unsettling. What was worse, though, were the parts that simply ceased. His hair didn’t even reach the tips, simply fading out into a grey static that merged with the mist, and it consumed his eyes whole, tear tracks streaking down his face in patterns of fuzzy, crackling grey that snapped and popped in the silence, far too reminiscent of a tape.

The sight made Jon’s heart clench like a fist, the combination of relief and horror, and in that moment he understood Jane Prentiss more completely than he ever had before. It would’ve felt like a rude comparison to consciously make, the person he cared for most equated to a pulped and writhing mass that churned out creatures that made your skin crawl before tearing into it. But he knew what she had seen in it, that call towards the thing that fascinated you, despite the turning it causes in your stomach.

Despite this, however, Jon steeled himself. This was rapidly becoming a battle, and he couldn’t afford the cost of emotions. He had to keep Martin, well… Martin. Draw out the emotion. In short, be a bit of a bastard. So instead, he cocked an eyebrow. “I thought you liked that about me?”

He could see Martin’s fists clench, the colour of his extremities dyed black from frostbite. The irritation was still clear as he started into “Fucking hell J-” but they both appeared taken aback as he dissolved into a choking, hacking cough.

It took everything in him for Jon to tamp down the need to surge forward, put a hand on his back and ask if he was okay. It was a strangely mundane thing; the man was made out of static and fog and despite seeming to have an on-and-off-again relationship with his corporeal form, this was the first recognisably human thing to adversely affect him. Why, though? What had Martin done to trigger- Oh. Oh .

“That- That priest from the statement… 0113005? Father Burroughs. He couldn’t say the name of god. Anything related to it, really. And you… You couldn’t say my…”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Martin spat. “You’re not a god or thee god, whatever your new eye magic might imply. It’s just…” He let out a breath that turned into a grumble. While his eyes had always been cloudy, he was now refusing to meet Jon’s gaze.

Regardless, it still drew a breathy laugh out of him. “No, I’m not that far gone into my own self importance yet. But… It’s about the connection, isn’t it?” Something in the conversation had changed, it’s tone or it’s flow, that felt contradicting. Tension coiling up to spring, or they’re barrelling towards a culmination, but at the same time, Jon felt like the wind had been kicked right out of him. He lowered himself to the ground, slowly, settling among the grass and trying to ignore the unpleasant dampness under him. Hey, he could feel the damp again. That was something.

“That’s more flattering, actually, I would say… The Lonely, it thinks if you acknowledge me directly, that would loosen it’s hold on you.” Jon huffed out a breath. “You know I listened to all the tapes. What was it that Daisy said to you, when I was on the run? ‘People say you two are close’? Well, the Lonely appears to agree.” He took a minute before adding, “I would, as well. And, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was too… Too in my own head, before, to admit it. Too much of a coward to do it before that, even. But you need to know I love you. And I know that you… Cared for me, at least? Even if I stuck my head in the sand to ignore it. But the Lonely seems to think you do, still. So will you please come back to me? I know it’s not- I know it won’t be much better, travelling through the domains, but it’s all I can offer and it has to be better than this. I can’t promise anything kind will be waiting for us in London, but you’d be yourself again, and I can’t… Martin, I can’t lose you again. To leave here, again, without you, I’d be losing you. Please.”

“No.”

There wasn’t even a delay to his response, stating it in monotone the second Jon had finished speaking. It felt like ice, lancing through his heart.

“Martin. Martin, please -”

“I said no. I thought you would’ve learned by now; I’m not exactly amenable when you come crawling to me with half baked plans of escape. Because you don’t love me, you love the idea of me. You are quite literally the only free man left in the world and you’re lonely . So you’re looking for a familiar face. Kind Martin, caring Martin, always there with tea and taking your side in every argument. Defending you to Tim when you’d just as soon slag him off behind his back, or on tape. Pretty appealing when everyone else is trying to kill you. At least he treated you like a god before this even started.”

Each sentence felt like another dagger to the chest, and it took him a moment to compose himself, tears forming at the corner of his eyes. Eventually, though, Jon spoke. “That’s not true, though. I- Martin I can’t apologise enough that that’s what it’s felt like, for you. But I need you to know, that isn’t true. A-At the start, maybe, I can’t deny I was stupid and spiteful, but you didn’t deserve any of it. And after that… I didn’t do a one-eighty and decide you were a doormat. I liked you because you were secretly enough of a prick as well. Any time you’d pull me out for lunch when I dragged my heels, or argued back when I said something shitty, that was… It felt like I was seeing the real you. The one you didn’t want to let people think of you as, but the one you were, because despite wanting to appear like the picture of innocence, you are a bitch, Martin Blackwood. And that’s my favourite thing about you. Maybe time is sweetening my memory, slightly, but I truly don’t believe there’s rose coloured glasses here. If we walk out of here, I’m not under any sort of illusion that it’ll be a honeymoon. We will doubtless find something to argue over, if not several, but I want that. I want you at my side to, to disagree and point out all my blind spots. We’re both stubborn bastards but I’m stupidly fallible, and I need you to keep me balanced. I don’t want a yes-man, I want you, Martin, and I’m asking for that knowing full well what it entails.”

When the words stopped flowing, he found himself gasping for breath, sobs building in his chest and threatening to spill over. But Martin was standing closer.

“That’s- I don’t- Fuck.” As Jon looked up, wiping at his own eyes, he could see fog starting to trickle from Martin’s mouth, coming in short bursts as his nostrils flared and chest rose and fell noticeably for the first time that Jon had seen since he stepped foot onto the moors. This caused a conflict of emotion in Jon, because while it seemed to be another step towards humanity, Martin letting the Lonely fall to the wayside in favour of reclaiming himself, it also looked far too close to a panic attack to be something worth celebrating.

“I don’t understand,” he finally settled on, voice cracking on the words. He slowly let himself sink to the ground opposite Jon, knees pulled up to his chest. “I left you. Time and again I left you. I left you to work with Lukas, and I left you when you tried to get me to run away, and I left you when I stayed on the beach.” His palms were pressed into his eyes, mist seeping from between his knuckles as he dragged them across his face, though Jon couldn’t be sure if he was attempting to wipe the fog away, or if he was stalling while he faltered, trying to summon the words. Both, maybe. Jon took the silence from him.

“You didn’t really choose that, though. You didn’t feel like you even had a choice. So Martin if… If you’re worried that I think badly of you for that, I don’t. Martin, I’ve done so many terrible things, so to- No, no, actually I don’t mean it like that. I don’t mean that you’re a good person, compared with me. I think you’re a good person full stop. And I just want you to be able to see that. I know the Lonely is quite literally clouding your judgement right now but… Please, just, just make me a deal?”

Martin’s palms were resting on his chin now, cupping his cheeks and curving around his neck. He nodded once, wearily, for Jon to continue.

Jon drew in a breath “I think I’m in some sort of… Bubble. Like a miniature domain, when I’m travelling. I think, if you agree to come with me, even for a little bit, that might dissolve some of the Lonely’s more adverse effects. Make it easier to think, to, to be yourself without its influence. If that is what happens, and you want to return… I’ll bring you back. But please, just… Try? For me?”

Martin sighed, hands dropping from his face. “...Fine.”

“You- Really?”

“Yes. I… Look, J-” Martin bit back another coughing fit. “Look. I am… There is a lot of me right now that wants to leave. The fog is… It’s in my head, figuratively, probably even literally, but… I remember something Basira said. When she got back, from, from The Unknowing . Melanie wanted to know how she got out, when the other three… When you, and Daisy, and Tim, didn’t. She said she reasoned her way out. So I’m going to listen to reason for a minute, as much as it’s paining me.”

Despite those final words, Jon felt his face crack into a smile. “That’s… Yes, you’re right. Well that’s… That’s a very reasonable connection to make.”

And for the first time in a long time, Martin smiled.

“Uhm, so how does this work then?” He eventually said, hand coming up again to scratch the back of his neck in an old nervous habit Jon could not be more happy to see.

“Well”, Jon said, taking a moment to brush sodden grass from his trousers as he got to his feet, “I would say, based on the dream logic that everything here seems to run on here, it should be rather simple.” He held out a hand to tug Martin up after him.

Martin took it.

It was almost cliché, how the Lonely fell away from him. It only took a few seconds, all in all, for the bruising to fade, receding their colourful splotches until his skin lay clear again. His frostbitten fingers healing themselves, sewing broken skin back together and returning to a healthy colour. His face, too, was returning to its original pallor, the change creeping up his neck and across his cheeks and leaving rich brown in its wake. Dark eyes stared down at Jon from behind long lashes, blinking away the last of the fog. He was beautiful.

“Hi,” Jon managed to choke out.

“Hi,” Martin said, and pulled him into his arms.

Jon just let himself be held in the pressure of the embrace for a moment, before bringing a hand up to card his fingers through Martin’s hair. While it had solidified into soft curls, the colour had stayed the same, bleaching it white under his fingertips. He wasn’t sure if Martin had noticed or not, but that was a conversation for another time. They were both a little preoccupied for the moment.

“How do you feel?” Jon eventually said, words pressed into the side of Martin’s neck.

“Uhm. Strange?” Martin eventually settled on. “It’s… I can remember what my thought process was, what the Lonely was pushing me to believe, but it’s like… It’s like the camera panned out, and now I can see it all clearly, and it looks… It looks stupid. Thank you, Jon. For coming to get me.”

“Of course,” Jon whispered, “Of course.”

Another moment passed before Martin spoke up again. “...Did you mean what you said, though? Or was that… Was that just to try and get me to leave? I- I won’t be angry, if it was, that- that’s very clever, I just want to know.”

Jon furrowed his brow. “Which part do you mean?”

Martin let out an agitated sigh. “You- You know which one I mean, Jon. The- The part where that you said that you…”

“That I love you?” Jon said, picking up where Martin trailed off.

Martin’s face flushed, and just the sight of colour spreading across it made Jon’s heart soar, let alone the implications of why . “Of course I did. I- I’m sorry that you would think I would lie about that, even for something like this. No, Martin, I love you. So very much. And I know you might not feel that way anymore, in which case I am very much embarrassing myself here, but I know that you did at one stage so I hope it won’t make things too awkward between us.” “I do, Jon.”

“What?”

“I do. Still feel that way. I love you too, of course I do. My hero.”

It was Jon’s turn to feel his face flush, pleasant warmth bubbling to the surface. “Oh,” was all he managed to stutter out.

“Can I- Jon do you mind if I…” Martin trailed off again, and Jon began to think this might be a recurring theme between them. He’d make it work. He was pretty good at reading Martin, and the eyeline pointed directly at his lips made intentions quite clear.

“Is- Would just the cheek be okay?” He replied. It didn’t really feel like the time for a full run down on where boundaries lay, but he figured it was a start.

“More than,” Martin said, leaning down to press his lips softly against Jon’s cheek. He lingered for a few seconds, skin largely healed but still chapped from the cold, and it was one of the most beautiful things Jon had ever felt. He slipped one hand into Martin’s, and he felt their fingers twine together.

Martin leaned back, clearly trying to calm his grin into something more close-lipped and calm. “Where to now then?”

“Uhm. Forward, really, is just how I’ve been going. There isn’t any real sense of geography to it, we’ll just…. Get there when we get there.”

“Right. Because nothing can be simple these days.”

Jon missed this. He missed him. But he didn’t have to miss him anymore, did he? He was right there.

He squeezed his hand once, and started leading the way.

[all-my-love-for-harry]

Don’t shout.

summary: Harry doesn't know what to do after he lied to Y/N.

word count: 1.7k

based on these requests:

"fuck i didn’t mean to send that haha okay for ‘shy little boy’ can u do something where yn and harry fight over him going to a girls house while on tour (but she’s a friend) when he gets back home yn ignores him bc she found out n stuff (the kid is not home i can’t remember his name srry) hope this makes sense"

and

"How about when Harry and y/n fight and Artemis thinks they are going to break up but he doesn't want Harry to leave him. I love you writing. Artemis is sooo cute uWu."

and

"hey idk if you’re taking requests but i was wondering if you could do one where you and harry get into an argument where he makes you cry and artemis sees and gets mad at harry and won’t talk to him until harry apologizes to you,, ty !!"

and

"where y/n and harry have there first big fight"

and

"For the my shy little boy series, could you do one where y/n and Harry fight about something and Artemis gets upset at one of them as well?"

a/n: had to change the requests a bit but i hoped they worked together!! I enjoy writing angst so i liked doing this one :)

you can find more of my shy little boy here

*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: 

Y/N was never one to pick up a fight. She was the type of person who preferred bottle up her feelings, most of the time. Usually she didn't have drama in her life aside from the occasional four-year-old tantrums and stuff, but then again she hasn't dated anyone in what felt like years. And she has never dated a famous person before, so every day she learned something new.

Like how trust is the most fundamental part of a relationship. She couldn't believe every little thing that was put in the internet about him, as eighty percent of it was all fake information. So she always trusted Harry and waited for his side of things before jumping to any conclusions.

However, this time, she couldn't do that. Not when dozens of pictures of him leaving one of his ex-girlfriend's house with the same clothes from the day before where all over the internet. She couldn't care less about that part, to be honest. What she was hurt about was the fact that Harry told her he was at his hotel and wasn't going to go out that night.

She knew Harry had friends, a lot of them were women. And she was no one to tell him who he could and could not hang out with. What she felt betrayed about was that he lied about it.

Now, Y/N considered herself a very mature person. But this time she allowed to feel angry and ignored every call of Harry's, not being in the mood to talk to him after she saw those pictures.

When he was back to London, he already had figured what was the problem. And he couldn't blame Y/N for ignoring him either, so as soon as he landed, Harry went straight to Y/N's home, determined to give her an explanation.

Y/N opened the door, raising an eyebrow at him but let him in anyway. She turned around and walked to the kitchen, completely ignoring him. Harry closed the door behind him and followed her, knowing her silence was anything but a good sign.

"Where's Artemis?" He asked softly, trying to make small conversation.

"His room." She murmured, raising a glass of water up to her mouth to drink from it.

"Are you mad at me?" He already knew the answer, but he didn't know how to bring up the subject. All he received was a bitter laugh from her. "I'm sorry..."

"For what? Because you lied to me or because you got caught?"

"Caught? Nothing happened, Y/N."

"Then why did you lied to me?!" She almost slammed the glass on the kitchen island, growing really angry. "Why you didn't tell me you were with her?"

"I didn't want you to be mad." He murmured, like a little kid who was being scolded.

"And how do you think i am right now? Uh?" Crossing her arms over her chest, Y/N stared at him. "I trust you, Harry. Every day, all the time. All i ever ask from you is honesty. What happens when i can't even get that?"

Harry panicked for a second, not knowing if she was going to break up with him over this. "Please, tell me how i can make it better."

"Start with telling me why you lied." She demanded. "And don't say because you didn't want to upset me because i'm not buying that. I called you the night before those pictures were taken. You told me you were at your hotel room, was that even true?"

He nodded furiously. "I was at my room when i called you. I swear."

"You told me you were gonna take a shower then you'd call again to wish Artemis a good night, but you never did. Harry, i called you, three times and you didn't answer. Here i was thinking you were so tired of working you fell asleep when in reality you were at you ex's house doing god knows what!" A single tear rolled down her left eye, breaking Harry's heart.

"She called me. She had broken up with her boyfriend and needed a friend." He said. "We drank a little, that's why i couldn't drive back to the hotel. I slept in her couch. Nothing happened, baby, you have to believe me."

"I'm not worried about you cheating, Harry. I worry about you lying to me. How can i trust you if you don't tell me the truth?" More tears fell from her eyes. "I don't want to be that type of girlfriend, but i thought we could tell each other everything."

"And we can, god, we can. I'm sorry, so sorry, baby."

 "Were you still going to tell me even if those pictures didn't come out?" She asked. Her lip was trembling as she waited for him to answer, however, Harry stayed silent. "That's what i thought."

She tried to walk out of the kitchen, but Harry wrapped his hand around her wrist gently, stopping her from leaving. But Y/N was too hurt right now to react properly, so she snapped. "Don't!"

"Mummy?" A much smaller, scared voice was heard, making both adults swallow hard. "Why are you crying?" Artemis was confused when he saw the tears on his mother' face, but then his eyes landed on Harry. Under any other circumstances, he'd jump on his arms, excited he was back home. But he was quick to put two and two together, and he instantly blamed Harry for his mummy's tears. So he furrowed, stepping in front of Y/N to take a good look at her.

"Hey, baby. Were you there long?" Y/N asked him, running a hand through his soft curls. Artemis shook his head. He didn't heard much, and what he heard he didn't understand. Just that his mum was shouting and Harry was apologizing for something. "Let's go back to your room, okay?"

She took his hand and guided him back to his room, staying with him for a little bit to show him she was okay. She knew Harry wouldn't leave, especially not after a fight, but she wasn’t sure she could keep fighting with him once she came out.

Harry made the decision to make lunch for them, hoping Y/N would be willing to talk to him. He knew Artemis was now mad at him too, and Harry felt so bad for upsetting his two loves. God only knows how protective Artemis is of his mum.

He didn’t even know why he couldn’t answer Y/N’s last question. He didn’t think paparazzi would take pictures of him entering and exiting his ex-girlfriend’s house, or that Y/N would react in that way. But he also understood how bad it looked from her perspective.

“You’re still here.” He heard her voice from behind.

“I’d never leave while we’re like this.” Harry turned to look at her, furrowing when he saw her red eyes. “I never meant to upset you.” She nodded, staying quiet. “I know how the world makes it look every time I’m out with someone from the opposite sex, I’ve been targeted as the biggest player for that.”

“Those things are not true.”

“And you know that. But… in my past relationships, they didn’t believe me. They’d automatically assume the worst, that’s why I didn’t want you to find out. I didn’t want the opinion you have of me to change. I’m truly sorry.”

Y/N sighed. She looked at him in the eye and could see how vulnerable Harry was allowing himself to be right now, how honest and regretful his eyes looked.

“You’re a good friend, and a good boyfriend. That’s what I think of you. Harry, you don’t have to lie or hide things from me. I know nothing happened, I trust you in that. Just, please, be honest with me. I don’t want to find out of things when there’s already millions of pictures online, I want to hear the truth from you so we can save arguments like these.”

Harry nodded furiously, again. “I promise, it won’t happen again. I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you.” She stated. Harry walked towards her and pulled her for a tight hug, squeezing her close to his chest and sighing in relief. “But Artemis is kind of upset too.”

“I should go apologize to him too. We shouldn’t have been fighting with him in the house.”

“Go talk to him, I’ll finish this.” She pointed at the almost done meal Harry was cooking.

He obeyed, making his way towards the little boy’s room. The door wasn’t entire closed but he still knocked before entering. “Hey.” He said softly, but Artemis didn’t answer. “I’m sorry you heard that, monkey.”

“You made my mummy cry.” He stated, crossing his little arms across his chest, looking exactly like Y/N while doing it. “You have to apologize.”

“I already did, kiddo. Mummy and I have talked, now I want to say sorry to you, for upsetting you.” Harry knelt in front of him.

“Are you gonna leave?” He said, his mood drastically changed as his eyes filled with tears.

Harry was confused by the question, but was quick to assure him. “Of course not. Everything’s fine, monkey. Adults fight sometimes, but I’m not gonna leave, ever.”

“That’s what my teacher told Susie but her dad doesn’t live with her anymore.” He rubbed his eyes with his little fists, whipping his tears.

“But that’s not us, Artemis. I’m here, do you see? I’m never gonna leave you or your mummy.”

“Promise?” Artemis offered him his right pinky and Harry wrapped his much bigger one around it without hesitation.

“You have my word.”

They hugged, Artemis wrapped his little arms around his neck, applying a little pressure as he was still afraid Harry would leave him. But in response, Harry just squeezed him closer to him. He sat on the floor with Artemis on his lap, letting him calm down as he cooed at him.

“I love you.” Harry barely heard the words, as Artemis spoke above a whisper, still pressed to Harry’s tattooed chest.

But he still heard. And he couldn’t help the dimpled smile from appearing on his face. He loved this boy more than he could ever begin to describe, and the reassurance that the feeling was mutual was always something Harry loved to hear.

He kissed the top of his head, brushing some blonde curls out of his small face so he could look directly at his hazel eyes. “Not as much as I love you.”

☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁

taglist!!

@myfavfanficsever @odetostep @la-cey @cock-a-doodely-doo @awkwardbullfrog @mellamolayla @moorgannn @bagtan-serendipity @awesomebooklover17 @finelineribs @sunnybusiness @beanholland @sweetenerstyle @cronias13 @vhsharry @maisley @seasidecrowbar @stylesfics-xx @autumnpauley20 @fineline-hs1 @stephaniemalvie @immajustreadwritereblog @jadert15 @iguessweallcrazyithinktho @abundanceofsoph @harrysthicccthighs

[tavern-aa]

Are You Serious: Tetsurou Kuroo

A/N: Hey there Teddy here! This is my first post on the blog and I'm excited to write for the rooster man. I hope you enjoy and I'd love of possible to get some feedback. I HOPE YOU ENJOY!!!

Rating: T for swearing and mentions of sex, but nothing explicit.

Word Count: 1.4k

X GN! Reader

Funny Prompt 22: “I hope I’m never stuck with you on a deserted island.”

Taking a business course as an elective was not something you thought you would do at the beginning of the semester as a liberal arts major. Yet here you were, sitting in one of the drafty old buildings on the west side of campus silently cursing your advisor for talking you into this. It was fine for all of six minutes until you found there was a fundamental problem with your class.

Your seatmate was a fucking asshole.

The guy was fine when he first walked in. You had just sat down and got situated in your seat when your attention was caught by the opening of the classroom door. He was tall and had a unruly head of black hair. His eyes seemed to be naturally dazed which seemed to fit with his overall disheveled sexy aesthetic. General consensus: 10/10 would smash.

Your chances of hopefully getting a taste of that sexy mess rises when he started making his way towards the empty seat to your right. You turned your head in hopes he wouldn't notice you checking him out. You thought you had lucked out when took the seat and slouched forward to rest his head on his arm. His eyes trailed the room lazily before stopping on you. You felt yourself unconsciously straighten your back under his sharp hazel eyes. He kept his gaze trained on you for a moment longer before speaking.

"Hey, you mind telling me which class this."

The request confused you, "um, this is practical business with Professor Honda. Why do you ask?" 

He hummed for a moment, "no real reason I just wanted to make sure you were in the right class." 

You furrowed your brow cautiously. "And what exactly do you mean by that?" 

The mystery guy only shrugged as a condescending look overtook his face, "nothing really, you just don't look like someone who would be taking a class like this."

Suddenly this guy became less of a hunk...

Your face took on a harsh scowl at his words. What the hell did he mean by that?

 "A class like this?" You prompted, making sure he could hear the edge in your voice.

 "You know" he started, "a class that requires practical thinking rather than just relying on feelings." 

He looked you up and down seeming to be taking you in, "you're an art student right?" 

“Yeah so what?”

“Well it’s no secret that you artist aren’t the most logical bunch, so I think it’s pretty safe to assume you all don’t take classes with higher critical thinking.” 

The jerk then had the audacity to flutter his eyelashes in a faux innocent manner, “aren’t you going to ask how I knew you were an art major?” 

You honestly didn’t care at this point you just wanted to punch the guy. 

“Not really,” you started. “But you seem like the kind of prick who would tell me anyway.”

The prick’s grin stretched further, honestly making him look like an attractive Grinch. 

“Well at least I know you catch on quick. Your look is what gave you away, that whole alternative artsy look is pretty standard for your type.”

You were pretty sure your eye was starting to twitch at this point. Who did this guy think he is? You sighed a bit as you watched your professor walk into the class and began to set up. Not wanting him to have the last word, you leaned your body closer to him and lowered your voice so as not to draw attention.

 “I know I’m just an emotional art student, but I can positively infer that I���m going to kick your ass if you keep talking shit.” 

You straightened up as Professor Honda started to the lecture, making sure to school your face so as not to react to the jerk’s shocked expression.

-

-

-

-

-

Things only seemed to spiral from then on. You found out that first day that you obnoxious seatmate’s name was Kuroo and he was a business major in the same year as you. You also learned he was just as petty as he was blunt, seeing as how he continued to sit next to you in class and went out of his way to goad you. Whether it be asking about your latest project in a condescending way or commenting on how your outfit that day fit your “aesthetic” as he put it. 

Your rivalry didn’t only reside in your conversation but it also started stretching into your academics. You two were well known in class for trying to out do each other during discussions and tests. Your professor didn’t seem to mind, rather they found the whole situation amusing. So amusing in fact they decided they wanted to up the ante on the class drama. By deciding to pair you two for your end of the semester project. You know, because that’s always fun.

The project itself was actually interesting, you and your partner had to make a presentation on a specific scenario. What would you bring on a deserted island, so as to thrive rather than survive. So instead of the usual practical items like water or a weapon you and your partner had free range to create a scenario where your items help you thrive in a business sense. 

You were excited about the whole thing, if only it didn’t imply that you would have to see Kuroo outside of this class. The two of you had decided to work at your place because despite how much you didn’t want him in your place you knew you didn’t want to be seen with him around campus. So the Saturday after the project was assigned found you and Kuroo hunkered in your apartment begrudgingly working.

“So...”

You looked up from your paper to look at Kuroo who was seated across from you on your living room floor.

 “So what?” 

Kuroo lifted one of his eyebrows, “so, what are you going to bring to your island?” 

“What are you going to bring to yours?” 

The dark haired man sighed at your usual defensiveness.

 “Well if you must know I would bring a box of condoms.”

“Excuse me?”

Kuroo smirked at you, “you heard me.” 

You glared back at him, “why the hell would you bring a box of condoms to a deserted island?” 

Kuroo began to twirl his unused pen in his hand, “because the next thing I would bring with me is you” he all but purred.

You flinched back in shock but became irritated at the familiar feeling of heat under your skin.

“What are you getting at?” 

“I’m not trying to get at anything, I would have thought that my intentions were clear.”

You scrunched your face up at his cocky tone, “no your intentions were clear in I’m just trying to find out your angle.”

 Kuroo leaned his body closer towards you.

 “You don’t need to worry your little head about my angle just so as long as I can see you in a few...” he trailed off, racking his gaze up and down your body.

“Is this really your convoluted way of propositioning me?”

“Yep”

You were silent for a moment taking the time to observe Kuroo. He looked his usual messy but attractive self, but his eyes held a certain vulnerability you don’t remember ever seeing. 

“Are you serious?”

You watched closely as Kuroo lightly scratched the back of his neck.

 “Well, I am hoping for a bit more romance involved but yeah.” He took one of his large calloused hands in yours, “I’m asking you out baby, so what do you say?”

Now for the record you usually regarded yourself as a normally logical person. You were smart and you were clever, but looking at Kuroo in that moment brought back all the feelings you constantly shoved down. And that damn pet name, it wasn’t even original but it still left your heart racing and your palms sweaty. 

“I’d say, I hope I’m never stuck with you on a deserted island” you said. “But I guess I can see past your weird fantasies for now, sure I’ll go out with you.” 

Kuroo’s face broke out into a soft smile but before he could say anything you spoke again.

“But if you talk shit about my major ever again, I WILL kick your ass.”

[fnf-brain-rot]

[Whitty x Boyfriend] Chapter 8 - it's not over

Whitty had the most fun he's had in a while yesterday. He also discovered a few more emotions.

He knew happiness. Sadness and anger a little too much. There was a new feeling. A fluttery feeling in his gut. After they went home from the carnival, Boyfriend was in good enough spirits to practice affection again. The snuggled on the couch for a while, and Boyfriend had tried to explain the hickey to him. He didn't understand why you would bite someone you love, or why they would ask for it. Probably because he has teeth of steel, which is a sure fire way for a chunk of flesh getting ripped out.

He's been hearing a lot  about this Pico guy, and honestly he didn't really like him. He just sounded like an asshole, no matter how many times Boyfriend reassures him that he's not.

"I'm gonna go talk to him tomorrow, and figure out where our relationship is. I kinda jumped into it really fast. Like sure I like the guy but.. I.. " Boyfriend lost his voice, and Whitty stared down at him in confusion. They were sitting on the couch, Whitty's legs crossed bed style and Boyfriend lying in his lap side ways, so his legs dangled over the taller man's knee.

"You what?" Whitty spoke up after another moment of silence, only for Boyfriend to sigh. "I dunno.. Something about it doesn't feel right." He then uttered. "Can I go with you?" Whitty asked the first thing to come to mind, and Boyfriend looked back up at him, giving a small laugh. "No, no.. We have to talk it out ourselves. That's like taking your child to a business meeting." He stated the last part more to himself. Whitty huffed. "I am not a child." He raised his voice in a whine, as if to purposefully create a counter argument for his statement.

"I can call Gigi and she can stay here with you in case you get lonely. Just know that if you end up coming with me, I'll have to introduce you to another person." Boyfriend slid off of his lap and stretched. It was about two in the afternoon, so Pico should be up and moving around. And hopefully not cranky.

Whitty shrugged, so Boyfriend decided to call her anyway. He apparently cried last time he left, so he wouldn't allow him to be alone in the house again for maybe an hour. It's been a week and Whitty was still in the same place. The blue haired male could tell he was starting to get antsy, so much so that even their cuddling wouldn't put his anxious thoughts to rest. Girlfriend should be good enough company to take her mind off of it.

"Alright, she'll be here in about ten minutes. I'm gonna head out, probably be gone for a few hours. You can handle ten minutes alone, right?" Boyfriend looked back at Whitty from the front door, said bomb remaining on the couch, squeezing his plushie. He nodded wordlessly. "Alright.. I'll be back, be uh.. be careful." Boyfriend smiled sheepishly in his direction, then headed out the door.

________________________________________________________________________________

Boyfriend made sure to take his time walking to Pico's, feeling that little knot in his gut grow ever so much larger. He honestly hated confronting his problems, even if they're one he created himself. How awkward would it be to hand Pico's own underwear back to him today? Maybe he should just keep it a little longer..

Upon stepping onto the un-welcome mat of the apartment's front door, he knocked a couple times. He kinda hoped Pico was taking a shower or something. He wanted a reason to wait longer, But Gigi already said Bee would be coming over anyway, so he couldn't really get out of it.

Boyfriend stood there for maybe a good five minutes, waiting for an answer. Just when he was about to walk off,  he heard the shuffle of about five different locks, then the creak of the wooden door. Boyfriend jumped a bit in surprised, then turned to see the ginger in all his glory. Well.. maybe not so glorious. He looked like he hadn't had sleep at all in the past couple days they even talked, which wouldn't be any world record for him. He inwardly cringed, thinking he might be the reason Pico lost sleep. At least it looked like he did change clothes though. "H-Heyyy.. Picooo.." The blue haired male started awkwardly, showing him a crooked smile.

Pico barely reacted. He blinked slowly, then grunted in acknowledgement. He turned on his heel, walking back into his little apartment. Boyfriend thought it best to follow him, since he didn't slam the door in his face like he was expecting him to. All he could smell when he walked in was coffee. Like it's the only thing that went down in there after that night. He took his shoes off at the front door, bringing his little duffle bag to the front of his body.

He made his way into the living room, setting the bag by the couch and taking in the surroundings. he didn't trash the place too bad, though some things Boyfriend had moved while he was cleaning had been moved back, obnoxiously so. "So uh.. You been okay?" He called out to Pico, who had walked into his kitchen. A grunt soon followed, the ginger returning with another mug of coffee that smelled like it didn't have any sugar in it.

Boyfriend stood stiffly next to the couch, while Pico sat down on the cushion, placing his mug on the table and leaning back lazily. It seemed like he didn't care, but Boyfriend knew he was coping. "Look, I know leaving that was pretty shitty." He started, beginning to fidget with his thumbs a bit. "And I can explain!"

"Well. I'm listening." Pico turned in his spot on the couch, resting his elbow on the headrest of the couch, and settings his head on his fist. "This guy.. He's sorta got some separation anxiety, like.. really bad separation anxiety." Boyfriend lifted his hands and pointed in a random direction. "And he doesn't have a phone, and me and Gigi are like.. the only people he can trust so far, and-"

"Separation anxiety? You barely know each other." Pico scoffed almost humorously, an unamused expression on his face. "In fact last I recall, he blew up on you. Why would he want to stay with you?" Boyfriend's face began to heat up from anger at his statement, and he turned away. "That's what I'm trying to tell you! He stays at my house now because he has no place to go!" Pico scoffed again, looking away as well. "So how long is he staying there for? He gonna be there until he can get his own apartment and leave you?" He questioned him calmly, and Boyfriend looked back at him in bewilderment.

"I...I don't know!"

"So what're you doing here, Bee."

"What..?"

Pico stood up, putting his hands on his hips and walking over to him. Boyfriend backed up a bit, subconsciously fearing he would push him, hit him, something. "You don't like me as much as you think you do." He leaned down to Boyfriend's height. He could see the hurt in the ginger's eyes. It was like history repeating itself. Boyfriend put a hand on his own chest, staring up at him for a long moment. He didn't want to admit it. It was a heat of the moment thing. he acted on weak emotions. Of course it was gonna fuck him up in the long run.

"You like him. Don't you? There's no point in lying. Especially to yourself." Pico sighed and stood back up. "S' obvious by the way you always talk about him. That look on your face.." He clenched his teeth, but he paused when he felt Boyfriend's arms wrap around his torso.

"I'm sorry, Pico.." He hid his face in his chest. Pico knew touch was the best way he could convey his emotions, yet somehow he couldn't stand him touching him right now. It hurt a little bit too much. No matter how much Pico wanted to say he didn't care and toss it under the rug, he couldn't. Boyfriend was leaving. Again. He even had the chance to have him to himself, and couldn't even do that right.

"I.. I hope we can still be friends though." The words hit  Pico directly in his chest. The taste of iron flooded his mouth as his jaw clenched, and he bit on his tongue. "Yeah.." He spoke after a moment. "That's just fine." He didn't look at Boyfriend when he let go, but he could feel his reassuring smile. "Nothing will change between us though, right?" He gently pushed his fist against Pico's chest.

He finally looked down at him. There was something so warming about how bright he was. he chuckled under his breath, then nodded.  "Yeah.. dumbass." Boyfriend cried out as Pico pushed his head away, and retaliated by punching him in the shoulder. "Well that was.. easier than expected." Boyfriend walked over to his duffle bag, pulling out the clothes he took from the man that night. "Oh uh here, your underwear. I washed it for you." He smiled nervously and held the clothing out to him, crudely folded and horribly wrinkled. As much as he cleans, the fundamentals of cleaning with him are awfully subpar.

"Thanks.." Pico took them, tucking them easily under his arm. "Well.. is it okay if I head out? We can hang again next weekend, it'll be fun." Boyfriend picked up his bag. "Sure. Don't let the door hit you on the way out." Pico teased him, and Boyfriend gasped, putting a hand on his chest. "Rude!" He exasperated, and the two laughed at their stupidity. "I'll see you later yeah?"

"Yeah.."

Boyfriend slipped his shoes back on, making his way to the front door. He felt accomplished. He just fixed them. Nice. He celebrated quietly to himself and walked out the door, closing it behind him.

He skipped his way back home, muttering to himself about how great a friend Pico was, and how understanding he was. He couldn't help it when he thought about missing that dick. The thought made him blush, and he scolded himself for even thinking that.

"I'm back!" He exclaimed once he stepped foot in his house. "Bee! Hey come look what me and Whitty did!" Girlfriend's voice piped from the kitchen, and he followed. The little table was covered in makeup supplies. Whitty and Girlfriend sat next to each other. "I just finished Whitty's look! How do you like it?" Girlfriend had on a full face, and Whitty just had some eyeliner, eye shadow, some blush. "I kinda like it.." Whitty hummed sheepishly. Boyfriend snorted at the two, putting a hand on his mouth as he sputtered with laughter.

"W-What?"

________________________________________________________________________________

Pico held the pair of underwear to his nose. Not his own of course, no. Boyfriend's underwear that he had left at his place that night. It still smelled so much like him. So much...  "I'm not losing my chance again.." He mumbled to himself, staring at his little work table diagonal to his bed. A poster from Whitty's rock star days hung on the cork board, and another, more recent photo. It wasn't taken by him, but by someone else. It was a photo of Whitty sitting in the alley, sometime right before Boyfriend found him again. He was completely oblivious. "Fuck the money.." He laughed, sitting up on his bed. Just as fast, a growl rose from his throat, and he grabbed is beloved mac10 and fired a shot at the picture, which of course hit the image of Whitty right in the head.

"I want you dead."

[tanakavox]

Look into the mutiverse chapter 4

Thanks again to ExiledDarkness for writing the charcters reaction for this chapter. Please go check out his stuff. And if your wondering where Qrow came from, We forgot to add a scene for Qrow and didn't feel like going back.

This chapter is based of the Youtuber SomecallmeJohnny and his review of Super Mario 64. I had to cut it short because my laptod was acting up again and google docs was acting wonky, parts of the fic getting erased. Rest assure for the Somecallmejohnny fans, I won't just do his reviews. I have plans to do Super gaming bros reaction as well. And for those who don't know Johnny, go check him! Enjoy the reaction.

The screen lights up again and shows Jaune wearing a cap and hoodie and sitting on a bright red couch. He had a bit of stubble on his face and he was currently holding a controller in his hand as he turned on a device known as the N64.

"Oh? Jaune looks good with stubble." Blake comments. Everyone looks at Jaune and then back to the one on the screen. They all nodded in agreement.

"It's a go time! Super Mario 64!" He said in a high pitched voice with a bad accent.

The Jaune on the screen sighed seemingly tired. "Lady and Gents welcome back to the Super Mario marathon, And just like with Ocarina of time, this is a game that haunted me during the N64 lifetime. Jaune looked the the N64 sitting on his dresser and continued. "It was like the console itself was actively mocking me like: "Hey Jauney? How about you ditch that playstation and try me out instead?" The blonde's eyes lit up in anger. "Well I didn't have a job in 1996 you sensitive prick!" Jaune snapped at the console.

Everyone blinked at the sudden anger. Ruby turned towards JNPR and asked, "Are you okay Jaune?"

Jaune, still frozen from the sudden burst of anger from his other self, snaps back to reality and nods at the question. "Yeah, I think I understand what's happening here. But I'll stay quiet until I know for sure."

Jaune turned toward the screen and went on like nothing happened. "Last time I gave Mario attention, I was focused on what made the Italian "Plumber—"" He said with quotation marks. "—the video game icon he is today. Now we're gonna do it again only in 3d."

Jaune turned to his audience and smiled. "You guys ready for another Super Mario marathon?"

"Aha!" Jaune says as he slammed his closed fist on his hand. "This is me doing video games!"

Ren paused at hearing this information. "Then that explains the sudden burst of anger then." Nora and Jaune nod while the rest of the audience looks on confusedly.

RWBY look at each other before Yang hesitantly asks, "So why did he get so angry?"

Jaune laughs before scratching the back of his head. "I like video games but I hate it when I can't progress further into the game. Sometimes I get really into it, I guess."

"Here we go, Super Mario 64, the 64 being figureded to the console and not the 64 game in the series, Mario's first 3d game, and a launch title for the N64. It was highly praised and hailed as the 3d version of what Super Mario bros on the NES did for platemors at the time, Mario 64 did the same. But I came into the 64 train late, So I don't have what you call: Super Mario 64 memories. In fact my first 3d Mario game was the next game we'll be looking at: Super Mario Sunshine on the GameCube. Jaune's expression darkened as he smiled hurmlousy. "But that can wait. Oh it can wait." The tone of his voice was bitter and venomous.

Everyone laughed now knowing the context of Jaune's anger towards video games.

"Alright booting the game up and the first thing you see is Mario's head. You know to really hammer in that this is Mario's first 3d adventure. You can even fuck around with the face a bit but it doesn't really effect the game it's just there for fun.

We're also greeted by Mario's new voice, provided by Charles Margent. Shockingly this isn't his debut as the Jumpman, that was in Mario Fundamental, a Pc game released a year before. Pretty sure no one heard of it before someone did a document on it.

"This idea of a floating Mario head, perhaps more infamously in Mario teaches typing two. A floating deformed head pop on the screen.

"Hey? Are you ready for Mario type?" It asked.

"Mother of God." Jaune deadpan in horror.

"Despite the new voice, Mario doesn't speak much. It's mostly hiyas woohoos throughout the game. And he only speaks a full phase when he completes a goal or he falls asleep on the job. It shows the red clad mario on the ground sleeping.

"Ha spatgai, Ha ravioli." The plumber mutters in his sleep.

Nora drools over the names of food. They sound pretty good right now.

"Charles as Mario is so absorbed into my head I can't imagine anyone else doing the role. It's not like the acting is amazing or anything, he's been voicing Mario for nearly 20 years at this point. If Charles stepped out of the role for any reason, the next guy would just try to simulate Charles' voice.

"It's weird that way," Ren piped up, "No matter what happens people are going to remember the original no matter how much the new one tries to be the old one.

"Hear hear ninja boy" Qrow cheered a bit and took a swig of his beer.

"Okay nearly forgot that I was looking at a video game, Sorry about that. Well let's look at that plot shall we?"

"I'm curious to hear about the kind of story this game might have," Ozpin said as he crosses his legs.

"Boswer kidnaps Princess Peach, Mario must go save her, now that didn't take long now did it?"

Ozpin blinked and sat back in his seat, a bit disappointed.

"I'll let it slide this time since they probably wanted to keep it safe for the first game in 3d. Hell, the menu theme is the main theme for the series."

Qrow snorts. "Fair enough. I guess you can't expect these guys to be that ballsy."

The entire game is set in Peach's castle. Boswer has taken the power star, which I believe gives the castle power? Jaune shrugged. I dunno what they do, it's not really explain and getting more powerstar allows you to get into more levels, and that's the name of the game here. Bowser had set up routine courses in painting.

"The courses tend to varies but nothing here gets too crazy like other Mario games. It's not until late game you go to more odd place like in a clocktower or riding rainbow.

"The game's openness is the first thing you'll take note of in Mario 64. You can start a mission with a hint on what to do,but there is nothing stopping you from just doing a different mission and grabbing the star despite not being the mission you clicked on.

There are a handful of expectations like racing against against Koopa the quick who not gonna show up unless you chose his mission, but most of the time you can go at it on your own pace. Eh, I didn't wanna fight King Bo-mb yet, I want free the chain chomp and get the star there. I could take down King twop, or I could do a well place jump and get this unrelated power star. And that's where a lot of Mario's replay value comes in, not just getting the power star but how you get them.

"Oh, this game sounds fun! I should get it if we ever get out of here." Nora exclaimed.

"With what money Nora?" Jaune asked. Nora looked at Jaune with a wide smile. "No." Jaune deadpan. Nora pouted at his response and turned to Ren with a wide smile.

"No Nora. And do not ask Weiss either." Ren said with his eyes still on the screen and Nora pouted again.

Peach's castle acts as a hub world, the place you're exploring and using to get to other stages to get more power stars. But in order to duke it out with Bowser, you need to get a certain amount of power stars to access the level. As a guy who doesn't care for hub worlds I don't mind Peach's castle. The levels aren't too far apart and there are things you can do in the castle that can help you increase your star count. Like a secret race track that gives you two stars if you're fast enough, or an underwater level that contains an easy to get star. It challenges you in a way that makes it still feel like a Mario game.

"It sounds pretty easy at first glance, but I can understand how annoying it can become if you mess up at least once or twice." Jaune says. Ruby, Nora, and even Ren nod in agreement.

The biggest change to the formula was the jump to 3d, like with Ocarina of Time. He still has to break boxes, stomp on enemies, the works but this game gave the man a few extra moves to go along with the change to 3d. The analog stick is used to move Mario, the further you tilled it the faster he moves, instead of the run button we knew from the past game. Mario still has the jumps he's famous for, but pressing the jump button can allow Mario to reach the heights he's never seen until this game without a power up. He can crouch and crawl but I've only used this a total of once. But you standstill and jump you can do a backflip, and if you crouch and run you can do a long jump which I love using so much and because you can do some real fancy shit with it, and it makes Mario move faster to boot. If you snap the anlong back and jump he can do a somersault and if you jump towards a wall, Mario can wall jump as well.

Nora makes a face at the detailed review. "All these moves and stuff sound annoying. Why can't games be as simple like they are now?!"

Ren sighs and begins to explain but Qrow cuts in. "It's because of games like these were like test models that you get to play the good quality games you have now. I remember playing Soaring Ninja back when he was literally unplayable and useless. Now look at him!"

Ruby and Yang gasp, Soaring Ninja was unplayable?

"I wouldn't be surprised if this move came from the gameboy version of Donkey kong. That remake has a fucklord of levels and a handstand jump for Mario. He still takes damage if he falls too far, so he's just a pale imitation. Jaune had Mario wall jump a wall to prove a point. "The Mario I know could fall from any height and take no dam-" Jaune cut himself off his eyes widening when he heard Mario grunt in pain and his health go down a bit. "WHAT THE FUCK! He took damage from a large height! Mario! What's the meaning of this?" He asked in bewilderment, looking at the floating Mario head from earlier."

"Oh nice computer you have here. Can I have it?" the Mario head asked

"No!" Jaune exclaimed.

Everyone's eyes widened at the scene. Ozpin checked his mug with scrutiny to see if he was still drinking the right drink. Looked normal enough.

"Peach's castle has 120 power stars in the castle, but you only need 70 of them to beat the game." Jaune had a strained smile on his face as he continued. But where the fun in just getting 70 power star and beating the game that way, it not like getting all the star is that time com- for fuck sakes yes it is!"

"Let's just get one thing clear, I fucking depise the 100 coin misson. It's as simple as it sounds, grab 100 coins and then grab the star that appears over your head. Lather rinse repeat, for all 15 courses. In a game that usually has you go to once place and grab the star, collecting these coins brings the game to grueling crawl. Mario 64 doesn't have a checkpoint system. It doesn't bother me much. The levels are usually small and with Mario's new moves getting the Power star is not only comartable, it's also pretty fucking fun. And then their these." That venomous tone from before came back. The screen showcased the blue coins that have appeared throughout most of the video so far.

"Aw it's one of those games! The type that needs you to waste your time actually going through all of what the game has planned for you before you get to the final boss! What a rip off!" Qrow exclaims, tossing his hands in the air. Jaune agrees, crossing his arms and trying not to join in on the rage.

"No amount of looking of cute puppies. can cotain the amount of rage i have when I fuck up these mission with a impeferct jump or when a enemey hits me from behind. It's not always a painful process, but sucks so hard cause the coins are either place so far part or because they're so goddamn scarce! "Gotta kill those enemies before the coins blink away and scatter when they spawn. These blue coins are 5 regular coin a piece but you gotta get them before they blink away and you only got one shot! Was there area I didnt search, an enemy I skipped, I did I fuck up somewhere since I only have 64 coins after look around what feels like for fucking ever?!

"And try not get the last coin in a dangerous area or impossible to backtrack to. The star will always appear right above Mario's head, so make sure it's a safe locati-GODDAMN!"

The star had appeared in a caged area that Mario couldn't reach.

Everyone laughed at the other Jaune's misery. The Arf viewing the screen feels relieved that he himself isn't on the receiving end. Or was he?

"Couldn't just tell the star to come to you Mario?" Jaune asked the Mario head on his computer.

"When a moon hits your eye, like a big pizza pie, that's amore!" Mario began to sing and Jaune facepalm when he didn't get answered. "When an eel lunges out…

"UNGAI?!" Jaune jumping up. A eel appeared and let out a roar and Jaune wasn't in his chair anymore, It being left spinning by how fast he booked it.

"That's amore!" Mario finished singing and chuckled. Get it? Amore eel? I said funny.

"Fuck you!" Jaune said from somewhere in the house.

All the immature audience members fell out of their seats in laughter while the more mature chuckled at the scene.

At the end of the day, I really shouldn't be going for all the Power star, and that's more of a technical issue, but I'm gonna bitch anyway. But despite the age, this game is still a treat to play even today. This has been Somecallmejohnny, and you guys have a Good Day.

Nora stretches and yawns. "Well, that was a nice one. Funny too! I wonder what's next?"

The end

[imagine-that-one-thing]

Styles. || 15

Authors Note:  Hey everyone!! I know it has been a while since I have updated, but I wanted to pop in and say hi, I am back. I intend to do my best to start writing again and to start where I left off at. I have missed Elise and Harry’s story so much, but I needed the break. With that being said, I am back and doing my best to get back to writing their story. Bare with me as it has always been hard for me to end stories, hence why this one is still kicking. I have a strong connection with the story and I just want to keep writing, so here I am. I hope you all love their story as much as I do. Anyway, I hope you are all well and continue to read my work. xx 

For previous chapters, click HERE.

First. Book : Styles and Co

Second Book : Styles’ Towers. 

Third Book : The Rise Of Glory.

Styles & Co. || Extras.

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

Wouldn’t It Be nice.

My apartment is quiet as I type away at my laptop, attempting to stay focused on my essay with a pounding headache. I have hardly slept the last few nights, and I have been running around like a chicken with its head cut off. Balancing school and work have proven to be extremely troublesome, but I do not regret my decision one bit to take up Jamie’s proposal. I am incredibly appreciative of the opportunity, even if I manage to get an hour or so of sleep a night.

I landed Jamie the clients and completed the meetings as requested, and successfully redesigned one of the portfolios— it has all been worth it. It will one day pay off to only sleep a few hours.

I massage my temples before the sound of my apartment door opening takes my attention. I turn around immediately, almost plummeting to my feet before nonchalantly recognising it’s Elise and not my worst nightmare. Ever since my father appeared at my apartment that one night, I have been on edge, not to mention I also don’t want Logan coming to my apartment. “Hey,” I half-smile towards her as she closes the door behind her and propels me the apartment keys.

I catch the keys in my hands, “Good to know you’re alive, Harry,” Elise’s commentary takes me by surprise as I kiss her cheek, and she moves away from me.

She’s exasperated.

“What do you mean? What’s wrong?” I immediately challenge, “What’s with handing me the keys?” I dangle the keys in my hand.

Elise raises her brow and crosses her arms over her chest, “What’s wrong?” Elise scoffs, “Harry, you haven’t spoken to me in two weeks, not sure if we are even together.”

“What? Sweetheart, I called you the other night before I fell asleep.”

Elise shakes her head, “You haven’t called. I got a text from you, but it said my name, and that was all,” Elise responds, showing me her phone, proving that she is, in fact, correct.

Fuckity-fuck-fuck.

“Oh,” I trail off, feeling like a horrible person… “I’m so sorry.”

And the award for worst boyfriend, once again, goes to me. How wonderful. At this point, I may as well keep an honorary speech on hand. Damnit.

“Harry… if you don’t want to be with me—“

“Darling,” I begin, “I thought I called you the other night… I swear I even texted you today when I woke up,” I assure her, clutching my phone from my table and clicking her messages.

The messages are somewhere here. I know there’s some sort of logical explanation. I remember distinctly. I texted her.

My heart drops, and I shake my head, dissatisfied with myself, “I uh… I never hit send… I never realised that the texts I did send never delivered,” I show her my screen of undelivered text messages and a message from this morning I never sent. “I look like an ass.”

Elise snickers and nods her head, “What else is new?” She jokes, and I can’t help but playfully roll my eyes and grin at her. However, she may be joking; deep down, she and I both know that there’s some truth to the joking matter. I’m an ass, and I can openly admit it.

“I know it is no excuse, but I’m dead tired and busy. I wasn’t trying to blow you off or forget you. I genuinely thought I had called and texted you… Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“You still want to be with me?”

“I’m sorry you even doubt my intentions. Of course, I do. Not sure you feel the same about me.”

It has never been my intentions for her to have to doubt whether I want to be with her. I want to be with her, one-hundred and ten per cent. She’s the woman I aspire to spend my time with. It’s too early to say this, but I want to spend my life with her. We aren’t ready for marriage, but she is the one I want to come home to every night. She’s the one with who I want to grow and build a life.

“I know you’re tired and swamped, but I did feel like you didn’t want to be with me,” Elise confesses.

I nod my head, considering her feelings and how I may have made it seem like I don’t give a damn. “That’s me just being an ass who is struggling to get everything done. Can I make it up to you?”

“How?” Elise demands.

I can imagine she is tired of hearing whether I can make it up to her. I’m tired of hearing it, too. I sound like a broken record, which isn’t my intent, but I am doing my best. My best isn’t good enough, and I know this, but I will do better. I will do what it takes to make her feel valued. I don’t want her ever to have to question my intentions or love for her.

“Stay the night with me. I’ll go to work and come back at around eight before you have to be up. I’ll bring coffee and breakfast… if you like?” I suggest, unsure of how to make things up to her. Dinner and flowers are too cliche, and I have already promised her that. Right now, all I can do is breakfast, and I physically don’t have time for anything else until the weekend.

Elise nods her head and agrees, “Can you maybe try to remember that I’d like a text or a call, so I know you’re alive?”

“I’ll do my best. I’m sorry, baby, I am,” I step closer and kiss her cheek before giving her a warm hug.

I need to make it up to her, and I need to show her I care and want to be with her. She deserves better than a boyfriend who forgets to press send on a text message. It may not be a big deal to some, it was a genuine mistake, but I feel horrible for not realising I hadn’t spoken to Elise. I feel as though I neglected my duties as a boyfriend to make sure she is okay and feel valued and wanted. It is the small things that can make a difference in a relationship.

Elise hasn’t asked for much; she wants my time and effort, which I will give her to the best of my ability.

❈ ❈ ❈

I feel a tender touch to my shoulders, and I draw myself away from my sleeping state. I open my eyes and groggily glance around. Fuck, I fell asleep on my laptop. “You fell asleep,” Elle informs me, her hand massaging soothing circles on my back.

I nod my head and sigh. I touch my fingers to my temple and rub them slowly, “I have the worst headache, and this is due in an hour,” I gesture towards my computer screen that is only making my headache graver.

“Would you like me to finish it for you?” Elise kindly offers.

“Do you even know what I am writing about?” The words leave my lips without me thinking twice about how they sound.

“Don’t be a condescending ass, Harry,” Elise mutters.

I heavily sigh and nod my head, “I’m sorry. Do you know about this,” I motion towards my laptop that has my composition mostly completed? I am not sure if I am nearly finished or not.

“Harry, I can use the literature as a framework to sum up your essay, unless you don’t trust I have the intelligence to do so?” Elise answers, annoyed with me still.

I do not blame her for being irritated with me, After all, I have unintentionally blown her off, and now I am making her believe she is not intelligent, which was not my purposes. I know she is brilliant. She may not be as into the business world as I am, but she is one hell of a writer. Elise is excellent with essays and literature. “And don’t forget, I have to take business, so I do know the basics,” Elise notifies me, and I bow my head.

“Again, I am sorry, Elle,” I apologise, “Be my guest, have at it,” I move my chair, and Elise rests beside me, immediately beginning to read what I have written.

“For someone who is great at business, you have a lot of errors,” Elisse chuckles, nudging me lightly. I nod my head and hum.

“Business major, not an English major, also wrote that with a headache and no sleep,” I mumble before I rest my arms on the desk and place my head to lean in my arms, closing my eyes and falling in and out of sleep while Elise types away. “Harry,” Elise taps me.

I hum my acknowledgement, “Hey, what is the main conclusion you want to be emphasised?”

“Baby, I don’t care,” I murmur tiredly, “Just write whatever sounds good, just don’t fail me,” I continue.

“Great, so I will conclude on valuation and whether to rely on an algorithm or on an ad-hoc analysis,” Elise confirms.

“Sounds good,” I admit, grappling with concentrating, my eyes stinging and my head spinning. “I trust you, darling,” I drowsily mumble, prompting to rest my head on her shoulder, closing my eyes again and drifting off to sleep.

❈

It isn’t long before I am woken, and it feels like only moments have passed where I was put at ease and managed to get a few moments of relaxation. “Hey, Harry, hey, sweetheart,” Elise gradually and benevolently tears me from my sleep, and I lift my head off her shoulder, brushing my eyes as I attempt to focus on her. “It’s done; you need to just go to bed.”

I groggily come to terms with my surroundings, regarding that Elise has finished my paper, “What time is it? I still have work to do,” I shake my head, remembering the collection of work I need to finish. I need to establish a fundamental algorithm for one of my clients, and I still need to figure out a way to balance Elise’s sister’s portfolio that was due the weekend of her wedding. Still, Jamie put it on hold due to her antics and marriage. With Elouise getting married, there is a chance she could venture to combine assets with her husband, but if he is intelligent, he won’t let her encounter any of his assets. I would not combine anything with her. There is a time and a place to consolidate things, and a new marriage is not the time. They have not established boundaries, nor have they demonstrated the true meaning behind the wedding. I think Elouisa married for money, point-blank.

“It’s one, and we are going to bed. You’re not working yourself to death,” Elise informs me, closing down my emails and shutting my laptop.

“Elle, I have to send it and —“

“I already sent it. You owe me, by the way,” Elise smiles, standing up from her position and taking my hand, dragging me with her.

Elise and I wander towards the hallway, “Add it to my tab,” I chuckle, “Tell ya what… I’ll get breakfast in the morning, and this weekend I’ll take you to a nice dinner,” I inform Elise, aware that she deserves more than what I’ve given her lately. I’m not sure how she hasn’t thrown in the towel and told me to go fuck myself.

“That would be nice,��� Elise accepts as we step into my bedroom, and I waste no time taking my shirt off and launching it to the corner. This is the earliest I have managed to crawl into bed, and if it weren’t for Elise, I’d still be awake, perching at my computer and making my headache ten times worse.

“Thank you for finishing my paper,” I grasp a t-shirt from my drawer while Elise draws back the covers of my bed, “I appreciate it,” I assure Elise, handing her a t-shirt for her to wear to bed.

“Ignore me again for a week or two, and I won’t be so nice,” Elise responds, taking the shirt from my hands. I nod my head, and I don’t expect her to be friendly and forgiving when I fuck up and act like an arse. I need to be held accountable. Elise leans up and kisses my cheek before caressing her hands to my chest, “You’re hot.”

“Thanks, but I’m not in the mood for compliments.”

“Moron,” Elise rolls her eyes, “You’re warm,” she caresses her hands to my cheeks, “Your cheeks are flushed.”

“Mhm,” I hum, “I get migraines after a long period with little sleep,” I shrug my shoulders, not too concerned about things, “It happens like once every few months.”

“Has it ever occurred to you to sleep?” Elise challenges with a touch of sass to her tone of voice.

Sleep would be delightful, but I have too much on my plate.

“It has,” I laugh, “But I don’t have enough time for that.”

“How are you not miserable right now?”

“I am,” I respond, “I just know I have to deal with it. Are we going to continue talking about my lack of sleep and terrible migraine, or are we going to sleep for a few hours?” I question, moving to my side of the bed and crawling between my sheets.

In all fairness, I am miserable. I feel like utter shit, my head is pounding, any sort of light burns my eyes, and it feels like I’m just being clobbered with a club.

“A few hours?” Elise seems surprised at my comment.

I only have a few hours to spare, nothing more, nothing less.

I nod my head, “I have work at six, so yes, a few hours.”

“Surely you’re not getting up?”

“I have to, Elle,” I sigh, “I can’t afford not to.”

In all honesty, I don’t want to get up in a few hours, I’d love nothing more than to sleep in and allow my migraine time to dwindle off, but I can’t. The world doesn’t stop because I’m unwell or for any reason. My mother’s bills still necessitate to be paid, meetings still need to take session, and my school work still needs attending. I don’t get sick days. I don’t get to sleep in. It’s nothing against Elise, but I’m not lucky enough to get to have a few additional hours of sleep as she can.

“You’re wearing yourself too thin.”

“I have to.”

“Can’t I help?”

“You have; you finished my paper for me. That’s more than enough.” I smile towards Elise, kissing her, sweetly, “Thank you for your help.” I kiss her again before stepping away and moving to my side of the bed.

It is not Elise’s responsibility to help my situations. These are my problems to deal with, and she has enough to worry about on her own. I do not wish to burden her with my issues, nor do I wish for her to have to deal with anything more than she already needs to. I don’t want to scare her away, and I don’t want to risk letting her help me and then leaving me because it is too much to handle. I can handle things on my own… I think.

❈ ❈ ❈

The drive to Elise’s parent’s house has been nothing but full of anxiety. I have no reason to be anxious, but I am. I haven’t stepped foot back in the house since the weekend I met her parents. Ever since, I have kept all meetings with the parents in public places. The gates to the private estate open, and I drive up the driveway, parking next to Elise’s car before turning my car off. I sit in the driver’s seat, taking a deep breath as I take in my surroundings. One day I will be able to afford such an extravagant house like this, but for now, I will settle with my tiny apartment and non-glamorous lifestyle.

I get out of my car and close the door. I make the short walk along the perfect cobble pathway towards the door. Everything about the estate is immaculate, from the gardens to how the Autumn door wreath sits flawlessly aligned. Although the leaves are shifting to magma-reds, hot-oranges and fever-yellows, not a single leaf is on the ground— the groundskeeper but be astonishing at his job. The barbecue-red leaves hang soundlessly on the trees, and I can't help but glance up and watch in awe, curious as to whether one will fall and wreck the pure aesthetic the Cartier’s have going on. I shake my head and chuckle to myself before walking up the steps. I stand before the double doors and adjust my shirt, making sure my collar is suitable, and my shirt is not creased. I take a breath and knock on the door.

After a few moments, the door opens, “Well, it’s about time you show up,” Conrad, Elise’s dad, comments with a grin, “I thought you were bringing the liquor?” Conrad questions as he opens the door wider and allows me to step into the house.

I shake his hand, “Hello, and no sir, I did not bring the liquor. Next time I will bring you a bottle,” I respond as we shake hands.

I was unaware that it was now customary for me to bring liquor. I shall be prepared for next time. Hopefully, this time, I will not feel as though I do not belong here or that I am not good enough for Elise. Although our last gathering at the house was far from what I had hoped, ever since that day, her parent’s and I have gotten closer and gotten along. Conrad has realised I am not here for the money, and I do not want any special treatment in the business world. I want to make it on my own with my name, not theirs.

“Elise is at the kitchen table, finishing another essay.”

“She has had quite a few to do,” I nod my head.

“While she finishes, care to have a drink with me?”

“Uh, sure,” I agree, following Conrad into the living room and standing by him as he picks up his decanter set and begins to pour a glass.

“Question for you… Would you consider working for me?”

I shake my head, “All due respect, no. You’re my girlfriend's father, and I do not want to make things awkward. I am also quite happy at Jamie’s company.”

“Damnit, Jamie got a good one. Okay, fair… Well, I would like to have lunch with you and talk business one day this week, just to get to know you more.”

“I can do Thursday?” I suggest, “I leave Thursday night to travel with Jamie.”

“I guess that will do,” Conrad nods his head, “Where are you going?”

“We are going to LA.”

“My brother and I need to talk more. I am leaving for LA next week. We could have tag-teamed clients.”

I chuckle and shrug, “That is between the two of you. Do you not worry about competing with each other for clients?”

“No, we have boundaries.” Conrad shakes his head just as Elise wanders in and welcomes me.

She kisses my cheek and beams towards her father, taking a prompt sip of my drink before asking us about our conversation, and of course, rolling her eyes at me when she is told we are discussing business.

❈ ❈ ❈

After a brief moment at Elise’s parent’s house, I was enlightened that we would be setting sail on the River Thames. I had no idea that today's adventures entailed such a journey. I was under the impression it would be a relaxing day at the house— I was mistaken. I did not anticipate spending part of the day on a yacht. I did not know Conrad owned a yacht.

I knew Elise’s family was wealthy, but I did not think they were this prosperous. Elise doesn’t show nor act that she has a very elite lifestyle. She never once mentioned that her father had a yacht. It makes me wonder what the fuck else they have that I have no clue about. After all, Elise has an investment that is almost worth a million dollars— and somehow, she is still asking me for investment help and assistance with the stock market.

“Harry,” Conrad begins as he hands me a glass of some sort of alcohol, “I believe I owe you an apology,” Elise’s Dad begins, taking me by surprise.

I look at him and nod, waiting for him to give me some sort of explanation. I am not sure what he owes me an apology on, but I am willing to listen to him. “I didn’t give you a fair chance when I first met you months ago. I thought you were hanging around for a business opportunity. I know that way of thinking was wrong. I should not have assumed.”

I don’t blame Conrad for not being open to his daughter dating someone who does not come from the same upbringing as she did. I didn’t have a gorgeous house with perfect gardens. I didn’t have the luxuries she had and still has; I grew up with everything I needed and not much more. My mother couldn’t afford luxuries, and she still can’t. One day, I do hope to give my mother the amenities she deserves. I want to be able to fix her house up the way she wants it and buy her a nice car that she doesn’t need to worry about, whether it will break down on her drive to the grocery store. I didn’t grow up anywhere near close to the same lifestyle as Elise, so I understand the judgement on Conrads end. Every father wants the best for their daughter, and I might not have much money or much to offer her materialistically, but I can give her my time and love— I personally think that is better than anything anyone could buy her. One day, I will buy Elise the things she deserves. One day I will buy her the bracelets and the necklaces, all the things women love to receive. But for now, all I can offer Elise is my devoted time and love.

I accept Conrad's apology, “Sir, I want nothing more than to give her all the great things she is used to, but for now… All I have is myself. I can’t give her expensive dinners and diamonds. I can barely get her flowers, I will be honest, but I can give her my time, effort, and love. I care for your daughter a lot… To be honest, I am in love with her,” I begin to speak sentences before thinking about them. Part of me wants to stop sounding so soft, but the other part knows that Conrad needs to know my true intentions with Elise, “I may never be able to afford a yacht like this,” I gesture to the space around us, “And I may be dirt poor, but I will never be the man my father was, and believe me, that means more to me than anything materialistic I could give her. She will never have to worry about whether I love her. She will never have to worry about where her next meal will come from or whether she will be alone… I will put her first, I will put her before myself, and I will treat her the way a lady should be treated.”

Being a man and being the complete opposite of my father is what I strive for in life, aside from being a CEO. I have learnt what a man is and what a man is not. I have learnt the difference between a deadbeat husband and a real husband. I will not be the man my father was; I will worship the ground Elise walks on, and I will do everything in my power to make sure she is taken care of in every way. Like I have said, I might not ever get to give her mansion with the most beautiful art hung on the walls she could imagine, but she will know that every time I walk through that door, that I am coming home to her. Elise knows that I am the one she can call at any hour with any problem, I will always be there for her, and I will support her in all her decisions. I am aware that we may fight and argue over stupid shit. Hell, we will even fight over things that aren’t stupid, but I wouldn’t want to fight with anyone else at the end of the day. We will have our moments where we want to strangle each other. I know the time is coming, and I know there will be times she won’t want to speak to me or times where I have fucked up, but that is the beauty of a relationship— you grow together, and you learn.

I don’t plan to give up when the going is tough. I will not leave her in the dark and call it quits because things might not get any easier for us financially. I may run from many things when it gets tough, I may bury myself in work in school when I don’t want to deal with personal issues, but I will do my best not to run from her— from us.

“You don’t speak of your father. May I ask why?”

I grow withdrawn for a moment, unsure of what to say. I have managed to avoid my father’s issue for most of the relationship with Elise, but I know at some point I will have to tell her a few things. I would much prefer to discuss how Conrad succeeded in his business to the point he owns a yacht and can sail on the River Thames with a skipper and crew. I wonder if he even bought the dock as well that he docks at. I shake my thoughts away, remembering I have been asked a question about my father. “He isn’t in my life.”

“You mentioned that,” Conrad nods.

“My father is not what I would call a man. He is just someone who is a waste of space in society.”

“That’s a bit harsh, Harry.”

I lift my shoulders into a shrug, “All due respect, but that is nothing compared to the things he has done and said to my sister and myself,” I respond, not trying to sound like a prick. I don’t like having conversations about my Father. He is not worth my time or energy. I should have just told them the has is dead. In all fairness, he is dead to me. “He was an alcoholic. I don’t like to get in detail about him.”

Conrad nods his head and respects my decision of not wanting to speak much of my father. Conrad takes a sip of his drink, and I finally do the same, allowing the whiskey to give me a sense of ease. “Elise told me that you had been the one paying to keep your mother’s house?”

I nod my head, “Yes, sir… Mum lost her job and my sister…. Well, she is going through an emotional breakdown and struggling herself,” I admit, unsure of how much detail Elise has told her parents.

“I have a lot of respect for you, Harry.”

“Why?” I curiously ask.

Conrad leans forward and places his drink down at the table, “You are helping your mother and working night and day plus doing your masters, and you have not complained once.”

“I think I have complained,” I shake my head.

“Elise has said otherwise. You’re a genuine and modest gentleman, and you seem to put others first… I respect a man who can do his best to provide and not make excuses.”

I am not sure what to say. If I didn’t go to work and do what I do, my mother and sister would be on the streets. Someone had to step up and do what needed to be done. I would never forgive myself if my mother lost her house. The house may be small in comparison to what Conrad has, but it is still a home. It is the place my sister and I grew up in. It is the place my mother worked hard to maintain to the best of her ability. “I’d do it all over again if I had to,” I shrug, not really in the mindset that this is something that I should be praised for. I don’t need praise for stepping up. I just want my family to be happy and healthy.

“You’re a good man. I see that,” Conrad nods, finally cracking a small smile, “I don’t think I would want my daughter dating anyone else.”

I stifle a laugh and shake my head, “Give it time. I am sure Elise will tell you I am an asshole.”

“We all are assholes at some point. It’s more so common with people like us.”

“People like us?”

“We are businessmen, and we are born to lead and be assertive. Sometimes that crosses over into being an asshole. Do you know how many times my wife has called me every name under the sun? Or how many times she has told me I am being a CEO and need to walk out of the house and adjust my tone before walking back in?” Conrad questions in all seriousness, and I can’t help but chuckle. I can see Elise doing the same thing in the future. “Cathleen does not take my shit, and I don’t think Elise will take it either. She will call you an asshole, and all you can do is learn where the line is drawn between CEO and boyfriend or husband.”

“Elise has already called me an asshole,” I confess, “I deserved it.”

“Half the time, we do deserve it. It’s in our nature, but again, we learn to control it. We better get back to the ladies before they think I have killed you,” Conrad stands to his feet.

I stare at him and raise a brow, “Was that your initial plan, sir?”

“No, but it will be if you call me sir one more time,” Conrad laughs, “My name is Conrad,” Elise’s Dad corrects me, not wanting me to be as formal. I nod my head and stand up, taking my drink with me before we climb the stairs, leaving the cabin area and stepping back out into the crisp air, Conrad and I parting ways and walking to opposite ends of the yacht.

I make my way around the yacht, amazed by how big the fucking thing is. I know this thing had to have cost more than I can imagine. I smile to myself when I see Elise sitting on a blanket at the yacht’s foredeck with a book in her hand. I watch her for a moment as she is clueless to the world around her, her hair is blowing in the breeze of the slow sails, and her eyes are cast on a book with no intentions of looking away. Most people would be taking pictures or drinking on their father’s yacht. Instead, she is content, reading a book on her own and paying no attention to the rest of the world.

I step closer to where she rests, “Elle,” I call her name from her behind, not wanting to startle her as I walk closer. Elise turns to look at me over her shoulder and smiles that gorgeous smiles of hers.

“I see you made it out alive,” Elise chuckles, keeping her finger in place on her book.

“I did,” I nod, “I see you have your nose in a book.”

“I do,” Elise shows me the cover of the book.

I cock my head to the side and look at the title, “Haven’t you read that before?”

Elise nods and hums her response, “And you are rereading it?” I question.

“It is a good book, Harry. Do you have something against the Great Gatsby?” Elise asks, sounding shocked, almost as if I have insulted her but asking if she is rereading it.

I am not the kind of person to read books twice. I read them the first time, watch the movie and then call it a day. I have never been interested in reading something over and over again, just for the fun of it. I know the ending. I know the plot. Why reread it?

I sit down beside her and drape my arm around her as I kiss the top of her head, “Eh, I won’t lie. I found the book boring.”

“How so?”

“It’s a story about elite society.”

“Is that what you got out of the whole book, Harry?” My response does not amuse Elise.

“No, I don’t like how the book was portrayed. Not one of the characters were good. It isn’t like To Kill a Mockingbird where the book manages to display both the good and the evil inside people.”

“It’s the writing style that makes the book so great. It’s the pros.”

“Yeah, not a literary person, love,” I shake my head, “Anyway,” I trail off, “I have to go to LA for work on Thursday,” I finally tell Elise that I have a business meeting in LA that will take most of my time next week.

“Damn it, Harry,” Elise huffs.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Now, who is going to help me study?” Elise chuckles, causing me to roll my eyes at her.

This woman is something else, that is for sure. “Do you keep me around just to help you study?”

Elise shrugs her shoulders and closes her book, “Also for your good looks, but seriously, I need some help with my China and globalism course.”

“I assume you have a test?”

“Indeed,” Elise nods, “Can I get some help?”

“Sure, we can before I leave, or if you want, we can facetime while I am in LA to help?” I offer, unsure of when the best time will be for her to study. “China Globalism is a blast. You will love it,” I sarcastically add, very aware of the fact that Elise will hate the course. She may be knowledgeable,, but this will be the course that tests her in every way. The fucking course broke me at one point, it was a horrible experience, but it has come in handy with Jamie’s clients. However, I do not foresee this course helping Elise. She doesn’t want to get into this side of the business. She doesn’t even want to be in the business world. Elise has a true passion for English. I know she wants to do something with writing and is only pursuing business for her father.

“I already hate it,” Elise mutters, “So, you will be able to help?”

“Of course,” I agree, “I don’t know why you think I won’t help,” I kiss her cheek as she places her book down on the blanket.

Elise looks at me and pushes her hair behind her ear, “I know you’re busy; that’s why.”

“Mhm,” I hum, “I am going to have to go up to my mother’s sometime soon. Would you like to come with me?” I softly offer, not wanting to make the dreaded drive to Chesire on my own. I don’t want to go up there, but I have to. My mother deserves to see me, even if it is for a few moments.

Elise rests her head on my shoulder, “I would love to,” Elise responds cheerfully, far too cheery to be going to Cheshire. I wish I had her happy demeanour about Cheshire, but I cannot. I can’t even attempt to fake it.

My phone goes off, and I reach into my pocket and grab it. I look down at the screen and bite the inside of my cheek when I see ‘Logan’ pop up on my screen.

I don’t want to deal with him, and I thought I made it quite clear that I want nothing to do with the spawn of satan. My hatred for Logan will probably never subside, so we should have minimal contact, but for some reason, like my father, Logan is determined to cause havoc on my life in every single way possible.

I quickly read the text message, much to my bitter distaste, “Harry, I know you didn’t want to hear from me so soon, but if it’s a 999 situation. — Logan”

I place my phone back in my pocket and stare out at the water in an attempt to find my thoughts. A 999 situation with Logan can only really mean one thing. Blood. The last time it was a 999 situation, I had to swallow my hatred towards him and give him blood. I am not sure why he doesn’t just go to our father for it— but I can’t be petty and scoop to the level of declining him what I believe is primary care. I may hate him, and he may be what I consider the worst thing to happen to my life, but I can’t sit back and not help him with this. Ever since his mother passed away, I have been the one to donate blood to him when he needs it. I don’t remember our ages well, but I know that at around sixteen, his mother died, and up until that point, she was the one who would help him when his health got too poor. Now it is up to me. I could be an asshole and refuse to help him. I could tell him to fuck off and go to our father… But what kind of man would I be to deny someone essential health? What kind of man would I be if I didn’t help someone in need? Most of all, what kind of man would I be if I didn’t put my anger and resentment to the side to benefit someone else?

To answer my questions, I would be a selfish prick like my father, and I refuse to be anything like him.

I pull myself back to reality and remind myself that today was meant to be a day of not stressing about things I cannot change or fix. I cannot change the predicaments that happen. I am not in control of them. I am only in control of what I do. When I am done with Elise and her family, I will see what needs to happen with Logan and do what needs to be done.  

[shianhygge-imagines]

{R} [DMC Reactions] S/O Sacrifice Scramble

AN: No, thank you! For supporting my angsty ass during my days of procrastination and getting my life together, lmao! That is an interesting idea! So... let’s take the same scenarios from the original reaction post... and just replace the s/o with another character’s s/o! :3

Let’s be honest... it’s not gonna be a happy affair! And given how the DMC universe is... it’s highly likely something like this would happen.

|Link to Original S/O Sacrifice|

|Masterlist Link|

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dante

Gets saved by Vergil’s S/O

He’d needed an expert with him on a job when it happened. His usual carelessness had gotten a loved one killed. 

Dante cried in agony as your head rolled away, remembering how he’d promised his older brother that he’d bring you back safe and sound. 

How Vergil had promised Dante a slow painful death if anything happened to you. How Dante had agreed that if anything happened, he would let Vergil kill him. 

He didn’t know what to do, going into a full blown demonic rage and butchering the demon that killed you. 

All he could think to do after was to bring your body back to Vergil. 

The moment Dante returned, the roar of his motorcycle the telltale sign of his return, Vergil had practically flown through the shop front doors. His face didn’t show it, but his heart leapt in joy at your return, longing to hold you in his arms after a time apart.  

Upon seeing only Dante standing in the dark, tears in his eyes and a white bundle in his arms, Vergil paused, his mind quickly connecting two and two together. “Y/N?” Vergil asked for you, his lips twitching to fight a frown. When Dante only met his twin’s eyes and tearfully looked away, Vergil took a step back. “No.” He denied, eyes shifting to stare at the human sized bundle in Dante’s arms, “She can’t have…” 

“I’m sorry, Vergil.” Dante tried to apologize, but his brother practically snarled in denial. 

But little by little, Vergil’s mask crumbled when a hand fell out of the bundle. Your hand. Your wedding ring. You. Unmoving.

A sob escaped Vergil’s lips before he could stop it, and his legs suddenly gave way as he could only stare in despair. You’d loved him during his darkest time, and gotten him through it. And you were dead. 

Was this karma for all the harm that he’d done in the past? Was this the world taking its revenge against him for nearly bringing the end of humanity two times?You were supposed to be his redemption. His salvation. That you were gone… did that mean he was damned for all eternity? That he was destined to stand alone forever.

He’d wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, but now that was a distant dream.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vergil

Get’s saved by Dante’s S/O

“Gah! Fecking hell, Vergil!” You screamed, practically diving into the swarm that your brother-in-law had sprinted into. From behind, you could hear Dante calling for you to let Vergil do his thing. But from his position on the cliff below, he couldn’t see the number of demons that awaited his twin.

They’d finally started to have some semblance of a non-toxic relationship again, and you were damned if you would just let Vergil get himself killed.

Dante had only just gotten his brother back, and it made you happy that the brothers had started to mend their relationship. If anything were to happen to either brother, you were sure that their relationship would have been set back by a great deal. And with how much you loved Dante, you couldn’t allow anything to happen to the only surviving member of his family.

That was why you threw yourself in front of a fireball, suffering through burns in order to protect a man that was usually frigid in demeanor despite his turning over a new leaf. And the pain was unbearable, your skin melting and clothes burning. You were only able to verify that Vergil was unharmed before you collapsed into his arms unconscious.

Vergil knew that he was a class A jerk to you, so he was surprised that you, someone who only held a small fraction of demonic blood, would throw yourself in the way of an attack that might have left him incapacitated, but not too severely injured.

He caught your falling body as it fell in front of him, surprise flickering on his face for a brief moment before he schooled his expression.

The demon that had burned you so badly shook in fear at the icy malice on Vergil’s face after he’d laid you on the ground and covered your damaged body with his coat.

“Y/N is precious to someone important to me. I hope you’re ready to suffer through a slow and painful death.” Vergil hissed, unsheathing the Yamato with a deadly ring of metal.

After the demon had been dealt with, Vergil calmly picked your body up from the ground, noting that you were still alive. With the still unsheathed Yamato, Vergil quickly opened a portal back to Devil May Cry, where he gave Dante the scare of his life by immediately barking out instructions on how to treat your wounds.

After you had been treated and left to rest, Vergil would break the news to Dante like ripping off a band aid. “She saved me from an attack.” Vergil saw the punch coming at him, but didn’t move, letting his younger twin land a strike to his face.

“Next time, you better be the one looking after her.” Dante growled, clenching and unclenching his fist, beyond furious that Vergil had been so negligent as to let you get hurt.

Knowing that there would be a next time because of your stubbornness, Vergil nodded. “Next time, I’ll look after her.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nero

Get’s saved by V’s S/O

As loathe as Nero was to have to take you along on a hunt, he didn’t quite have the balls to defy you when it was your fiance’s life on the line

A few days prior, several demons had appeared to attack V, vowing revenge on the Sons of Sparda, blah blah blah, like you hadn’t heard that reason half a million times.

Due to having been a part of Vergil, V’s continued existence was sustained through absorbing demonic energy, much to your surprise and confusion on how that would work in the first place.

During the attack, V had been alone except for his demon contracts, Shadow, Griffon, and Nightmare. Normally, this wouldn’t have been much of a challenge for the four of them, but V had been severely weakened after Vergil ‘resurrected.’

Not only did the attacking demons manage to severely wound V, they had also taken it upon themselves to steal V’s demonic power. The only thing sustaining V was his contracts with Shadow and Nightmare. Griffon had decided to forge a contract with you in order to help. Now, you and Nero were racing against the clock to kill the demon that housed V’s power.

Despite not having an upraising involving combat, you held your own whenever demons appeared, brandishing V’s cane and a rifle borrowed from Lady.

“A Bride on a Mission” Griffon had called you after you struck down a demon with no mercy.

Despite being able to hold your own, you were under no illusion that you could kill the demon that had assaulted your fiance and left him for dead. So, when you saw Nero getting backed into a corner, still reluctant to use his Devil Trigger, you commanded Griffon to give you a boost, sending you soaring towards Nero.

Though you stuck the landing wrong, earning you a twisted ankle, you’d managed to blast through part of the horde. You didn’t get to celebrate your victory much, when you felt the painful end of a horn dig into your stomach and send you tumbling backwards.

“Y/N!” Nero cried out in alarm.

Now, normally, you tried not to curse... but laying on your back with a hole in your abdomen, you couldn’t help but let out a swear, “Fuck!”

The demon that had stolen your fiance’s power had come out to play, and you were pretty much down for the count. Nevertheless, you propped yourself up on an elbow and aimed with your rifle. “Heh, I’m not dead yet, you fucker.”

Nero, meanwhile, had finally started to take the fight seriously, blasting through the rest of the demon horde before advancing on the bastardization of a bull demon that had attacked you when he wasn’t looking. “Hey! Do you know how much trouble I’m in now that you’ve poked a hole into my friend’s fiance?!”

The banter was a front. Nero was scared shitless that he’d have to bury another friend and break the news to V... who might just find a way to kill him for not looking after you.

Activating his Devil Trigger for the sake of killing the beast, Nero followed the battle up with picking up the crystallized demonic energy embedded in the bull demon’s horn before using his Devil Trigger to get you to a hospital.

Somehow, between getting checked into the hospital, and waking up from surgery, Griffon had left you to return to V, who found out about what had happened and immediately brought himself to the hospital to yell at Nero and look after you.

When you woke up, V sat in a chair beside your bed, one hand holding yours and another holding a book. Seeing you awake, V set the book down and gently chided you after making sure you were okay. “Please, Y/N... Don’t do that again. I couldn’t bear it if I lost you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

V

Get’s saved by Nero’s S/O

For the sake of this request, we’ll say that Nero’s S/O is different from Kyrie (even if it’s the canon pairing >.>, The reason why I have to clarify... well, that’s a story for another time)

V had long since retired from hunting demons, instead, investing his newly mortal life in learning about the world with the help of you, Nero, and Kyrie.

He was only a month old when he’d assisted in defeating Urizen, and had barely grasps the basic human mannerisms and fundamentals. Like the use of money, or the fact that a bullet to the head would kill him, or your personal favorite, that he had to consume food for survival. Truly, when Nero first introduced you to V, you thought him to be a child.

Though, the first thing you did after meeting him had been to take him clothes shopping. Sure, it was summer, but once the colder seasons rolled in, you were sure that V would need proper shirts instead of... the trench coat corset thing? You’re amazed the thing didn’t come apart during his battles.

There were a few times that V was forced to fight demons, either to absorb their demonic energy in order to extend his life, or to beat off random assaults from demons that swear revenge upon the Sons of Sparda. These times were increasingly annoying for the young man, as he’d long since separated himself from Vergil.

Most of the times that he’d get attacked were during his walks in the streets of Fortuna. It was a beautiful town with old architecture, so V often found himself observing the towering structures.

One day, you decided to accompany V on one of his strolls, taking a sketchbook along just in case you found another spot to stop and sketch while V took his time looking at the building designs.

It is unfortunate, then, that while the two of you were doing just that, Shadow popped out of the ground beneath you, growling in warning as several demons decided to claw out of the ground around you.

Despite having V, Griffon, Shadow, and Nightmare with you, your group was quickly overwhelmed by attacks from all sides. You’d never had to fight in your life, and by not having a weapon on you, you were just a burdening presence. That didn’t stop you from calling out enemy presence in the street and slapping bitches with your sketchbook, mind you. You were unprepared and untrained, but damn it you weren’t going to be a useless damsel.

This was foolhardy of you, taking on demons despite the fact that V probably had it all handled... especially the fact that V had asked you to stay back from the demons. You didn’t listen to your fiance’s friend, and so when you’d taken a shot at one of the downed demons, raising an arm up to slap the mofo, you suddenly felt pain, and heard a thump to the floor. The blood that trickled down your arm brought your attention to the fact that you were now missing your non dominant hand.

“Fucking hell!” you screamed, wanting to panic and flail around as V quickly took care of the remaining demons before hobbling on unsteady feat towards you, unbuckling his belt to tie it around your bleeding arm.

“Y/N...” V called your name as he applied the make shift tourniquet, “Y/N, which way is the hospital? We need to get you to the hospital soon, or you really will lose your arm.”

The two of you sprinted with as much haste as possible to the hospital, you trying not to scream in panic, and V, trying not to imagine your fiance’s ire as he held your severed arm.

The minute you entered the surgery room, Nero arrived on scene at the hospital, and practically accosted V, “What the hell, V! Y/N’s not a demon hunter! You’re supposed to protect them!”

V, already feeling guilty for being unable to protect you, winced and responded with a calm voice, “I should have had Shadow escort them away, that was my mistake. But your fiance is as stubborn as you, Nero. They wanted to help... and now they may lose their arm... or not. You did regrow your arm after all.”

Brain running a mile a minute and having already decided that he should now at the very least teach you some basic defense, Nero growled, “That’s not a normal thing humans can do, V. I know you’re still getting used to being a real boy and all, but...” Nero simply sighed tiredly. “Just... make sure you watch their back when you’re with them, okay? We were lucky that they’re not half dead.”

Hours later, your arm was reattached, but you made stump jokes that made Nero simultaneously want to kiss you and slam his face in the wall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed my work, please consider buying me a Ko-fi!

[jamaisjoons]

peach parfait I | ksj

⏤ 𝚜 𝚞 𝚖 𝚖 𝚊 𝚛 𝚢 : you and seokjin have always been at odds as the top two chefs at big hit academy of culinary arts. enemies to lovers au

⏤ 𝚙 𝚊 𝚒 𝚛 𝚒 𝚗 𝚐 : seokjin x reader

⏤ 𝚐 𝚎 𝚗 𝚛 𝚎 : fluff, smut, slight? angst

⏤ 𝚠 𝚘 𝚛 𝚍 𝚌 𝚘 𝚞 𝚗 𝚝 : 19k

⏤ 𝚠 𝚊 𝚛 𝚗 𝚒 𝚗 𝚐 𝚜 : female solo masturbation, slight nipple play, sex toys - ring vibrator

⏤ 𝚊 / 𝚗 : hello demons!!!!!! welcome to my first ever ksj au!!! it finally happened wow,,,, honestly this wasn’t supposed to be this long but here we are,,,, 19k in on the first part whoops. there will be a second part out [hopefully soon, i already have about 8k of it written] but until then, i hope you enjoy this! // lowkey this was inspired by shokugeki no soma skfjak

⏤ Part I | Part II ⇥ complete

“Kim Seokjin, a perfect 100!” Head Chef Hobeom called out.

Your entire body stiffened as if you had just been drenched in ice-cold water. You could feel the tell-tale scowl already forming on your face, your features twisting in annoyance as you took in the sight of Kim Seokjin’s smug face. His dark, slightly wavy locks fell loosely around his stupid forehead and he was dressed casually, in a plain white t-shirt, further accentuating his unnecessarily broad shoulders. Light wash jeans hung low on his hips, the material of the denim tugging around his ridiculously toned thighs. Not that you were admiring him. No. You would never admire your greatest rival. Which is exactly what he was. Your gaze fell back to his face, his nose slightly scrunched, luscious lips pulled into a half-smirk and eyes shining with mirth.

That smug bastard.

You could hear the screams and cheers from all the female students, and even some male, as Seokjin bowed to the rest of the class while you angrily threw your spatula down. You grumbled to yourself and began cleaning up, ignoring the cheers for Seokjin as best as you could. You knew why you lost. You had made a stupid, rookie mistake. One that you were now kicking yourself for. How the hell had you managed to forget to season the meat before cooking? It was probably the most fundamental step of any recipe and yet in the heat of the moment and under pressurised circumstances, you had completely neglected that crucial step and it had cost you the exam. Well not really, you still passed but Seokjin had scored higher. And now, Seokjin would be able to brag until the next time the two of you faced off. From the corner of your eye, you watched Seokjin saunter over to you and immediately growled to yourself, eyes narrowing.

Great, now he was here to gloat.

“Hey ____, that’s what, my three hundred and fifty-eighth win? Who’s winning right now? Cause according to my count it’s me” Seokjin taunts, his tone laced in both arrogance and glee. You could feel your eyebrow twitch, taking a deep breath before turning around, your eyes in slits as you scrutinised his smug face.

“Until the next round. You forget before this round, we were both tied at three hundred and fifty-seven” You spit out, tone saturated with hate and loathing. Seokjin, however, is unbothered, letting out a little snicker.

“Yeah we were both tied but you could have won this round. I can’t believe you lost because you didn’t salt the meat. Slacking a bit, aren’t you? Isn’t seasoning the most basic rule of cooking? Do you need to go back to the first year? Or if you really want, I could teach you? I think you’d benefit from my classes. We could call it, cooking for dummies: back to the basics” Seokjin jeers and you let out a low growl, slamming your most prized knife back into its case as you continue cleaning up your station. You’re trying not to let his words get to you, but you can’t help it. He’s completely right. You could have won if you had simply seasoned the god damned meat.

“Oh, bite me Seokjin, we’ve all done it once or twice. Or did you forget the time you forgot the soy sauce in a chow mein? A dish which is basically just noodles, bean sprouts and soy sauce. So, do us both a favour and kindly fuck off, I have pastry class now,” You sneer and Seokjin laughs as you grab your knife set before storming away. You can feel his eyes on your back the entire time, the hairs on your neck standing in irritation. You can still hear his stupid squeaky laugh up until you leave the class.

Once out, you take in a deep breath and calm yourself down, face pulled into a frown. There were many reasons you had lost that match. Many reasons the flavours of the dish didn’t tie in together as well as they should have. The biggest reason, was, of course, the lack of salt on the meat resulting in a bland tasting dish despite the number of spices and herbs mixed into the sauce. You had also overcooked the butter, leading to a slightly smoked flavour that offset the dish and because of that, you hadn’t been able to sauté the onions long enough and thus they weren’t caramelised enough to compliment the beef. You continued muttering what had gone wrong with the dish to yourself, noting them down so that next time you could and would beat Seokjin at his own game.

“Hey, you okay?” Jimin asked and you snapped out of your daze, slightly startled by your best friend appearing out of nowhere. You looked around, brows knitting in bewilderment as you wonder just when you’d gotten to class. Had you been lost in your thoughts that long?

“Huh? Yeah, sorry. I was lost in my own head” You said as you popped your knives under the counter and slipped your apron on, washing your hands before taking your place at one of the many counters in the room, awaiting the chef’s arrival.

“It seemed like you were mumbling about food. Oh wait, today was your exam with Jin-hyung wasn’t it? I take it, it didn’t end well” Jimin says and you scowl at him.

“I forgot to salt the fucking meat. And as usual, perfect Kim Seokjin’s dish was faultless. So yeah, that ass won” You lament and Jimin’s face scrunched in concern.

“You did pass the exam though yes?” Jimin asked, worry laced in his tone and you quickly shot him an exasperated look. Of course, you had passed. Failure in exams resulted in expulsion, no questions asked.

That was the reason Big Hit Academy of Culinary Arts was the best culinary school in the entirety of Asia. Less than 5% of the students who enter graduate. The Head Chef’s at the school pushed until you were tired and pushed even more after. The academy had no place for people who couldn’t stand the heat of the kitchen nor the pressure or competition. And you’d be damned if you weren’t in the top 5% of graduates. Of course, graduating paid off handsomely. Graduates from Big Hit were guaranteed to get jobs in the most prestigious of restaurants across the world. The Big Hit name carried weight; hell, even if you made it to the third year before failing would guarantee you a job in a high class, albeit small restaurant.

“Jimin, if I failed, I wouldn’t be here. I passed the exam. I came second, after stupid Seokjin. I scored a 95 whereas he scored a perfect 100” You replied and Jimin beamed at you, his eyes scrunching up into half-moons.

“That’s great ____! You should be really proud of that” Jimin says cheerily but at the annoyance still carved in your face, he deflates, rolling his eyes at you in exasperation.

“It’s in 90s ____. Some people would kill for that score. Some people never even reach that boundary, you and Seokjin-hyung are the only two to consistently get scores over 90 so stop pouting. Besides, I don’t understand why you both still go head to head. You’re trained in completely different backgrounds. Of course, Jin-hyung was going to do better on the exam. He’s a rotisseur. Someone who is trained and specialised in cooking meat and savoury dishes. You’re a god damn pâtissier. You bake bread and make desserts. They’re two completely different ballparks” Jimin, forever the voice of reason, argues and you shrug.

“It’s just always been like that. Ever since we both entered this academy. Besides we didn’t always specialise in what we do now. There was a time when we both cooked whatever. We still do. We just tend to focus on our specialities more now. You know the best chefs are experts in all disciplines and masters in their own discipline,” You refute and Jimin nods, barely paying attention to you now.

“Please don’t throw Headmaster Bang’s words at me. I still can’t believe he does that exact same speech at the start of every year. But I guess you’re correct. Besides, according to everyone, including the head chefs, you both are the best chefs this academy has seen in years. It’s alright though, the next exam is a sweet based one isn’t it? He’s never beaten you on one of those,” Jimin says offhandedly, as he too starts preparing for class and you nod.

It was true.

Ever since you entered Big Hit Academy of Culinary Arts those three years ago, you and Seokjin had gone head to head countless – except of course you both kept count – of times. But it was almost predictable at this point. If the exam had anything to do with baked goods or desserts, you would score nothing less than a perfect 100. You were currently unrivalled in the academy when it came to desserts. However, the same could be said for Seokjin and any meat dishes. He too had yet to score less than a perfect 100 on any of his dishes that included meat. Hence, you both would win those respectively and those exams were almost predictable. However, there were anomalies. If either of you were in an exam for fish, sauces or any specific cuisines, it was anyone’s game. Sometimes Seokjin scored higher; sometimes you would. Hence, the two of you were tied at three hundred and fifty-seven wins each. That was until today. When Seokjin took the lead with his latest win.

You scowled once more.

Stupid Seokjin and his stupid pretty face and stupid cooking skills.

“Alright. Welcome to today’s exam. As mentioned before, the theme is Chantilly cream. You will find an assortment of ingredients at your counter. You may prepare whatever you want, so long as you only use the ingredients at your counter. You have two hours to complete your dishes. You may begin,” Head Chef Sejin calls out and you immediately begin looking at your ingredients. This was one of the hardest challenges; everyone was given ingredients and could prepare whatever you wanted. However, you were limited by your ingredient supply and variety.

Your eyes quickly scanned over all the ingredients; butter, flour, vanilla extract; strawberries; cream; chocolate; sugar. Damn no eggs. You discarded any recipe at the top of your head that would need eggs. Suddenly, an idea popped into your head and your eyes lit up with excitement. You quickly began gathering the ingredients before grabbing any equipment you’d need. You looked up briefly, taking in the sight of the other student chefs, panic etched into their faces. Your eyes fleetingly wandered over to Seokjin, who like you, had already begun grabbing ingredients. You scowled slightly before going through the recipe in your head.

You slowly began to work, beginning by creating your base. You submersed yourself into creating the dough, white dust puffing up in a cloud around you as you added the flour. Your shoulders relaxed, fingers moving in soft circles as you incorporated the butter into the flour. Briefly, you glanced up, slightly startled when you realised Seokjin was watching you work. As soon as your eyes made contact, he winked at you. You felt the vein in your head pop and immediately grew agitated. Sneering at him, you went back to focusing on your kneading, now a lot less gentle than before as you began pounding the dough, working out your frustration with Seokjin on it.

Realising the force behind your kneading, you quickly stopped, fearing that you’d overwork it resulting in a tough pastry. Wrapping it in clingfilm, you placed it into the fridge to cool before taking a deep breath. You wouldn’t allow Kim Seokjin to crawl under your skin. No matter how irritatingly handsome he was. Wait- where had that come from? You quickly shook your head, thinking over your recipe as you hurry to begin your next step lest you run out of time. You grabbed the strawberries, as needlessly red as Seokjin’s lips, chopping off the leaves before dumping them into a saucepan along with vanilla bean paste, a squeeze of orange juice and cinnamon. Your secret ingredients to enhance the flavour of the strawberry coulis and gain an edge over whatever Seokjin had planned.

You waited for the strawberry mixture to begin boiling, stirring continuously as it began to reduce. The task was mindless and involuntarily your thoughts wandered off to Seokjin, a frown marring your face. You couldn’t resist chancing another glance at him, brows furrowing when you realised he was placing cake tins into the oven. An eggless cake? You scoff haughtily. Most of the other students were also making eggless cakes. You turned your attention back to your saucepan, the strawberries were completely mushy and reduced, leaving a thick scarlet sauce. You grabbed a bowl and strained it, removing any clumps of skin or seeds and leaving a completely clear coulis. Placing it to the side, you checked your timer before grabbing your dough out of the fridge.

Moving onto your next step, you grabbed your previously abused dough from the fridge. The heels of your palm pressed into the soft, chilled dough as you began working it once again. Once you deemed it was ready, you grabbed the rolling pin and began rolling and folding it into what was to become your puff pastry. From your peripheral vision, you noticed that Seokjin was idly standing around, leaning against his counter in a completely relaxed position. Your brows furrowed, wondering just why he was sitting around doing nothing when the timer was still running. You cursed internally; why the hell were you so caught up in what Seokjin was doing? He was your rival. If he failed, it worked out better for you. But that didn’t sit well with you. You wanted to win on your own merit, wanted to be better than him because you were better; not because he threw the exam. You look up once again, locking eyes with him.

This time, when your eyes meet Seokjin simply stares. Against your will, you send him a questioning, albeit concerned look. Seokjin reels slightly in surprise before he composes himself. His hand moves and soon he’s blowing you a kiss causing you to roll your eyes at his antics. You hear the female students swoon, cheers surrounding the entire class causing you to roll your eyes. Seokjin simply ignored them, smirking at you before getting to work on whatever he needed to. Satisfied that he was taking this seriously, you turned back to your dough. Realising it was ready, the butter marbled perfectly through the flour; you wrapped it in cling film again before placing it in the fridge once again.

Taking a look at the timer, you realised you had just under an hour. Clearing up your counter hurriedly, you began preheating the oven. The last bits would undoubtedly be the easiest; just whip the cream with vanilla and sugar in order to satisfy the Chantilly cream requirement and you’d be golden. All of a sudden, your individual timer went off; you swiftly wipe your hands clean and pulled the dough from the fridge once again, this time rolling it out and cutting it into perfect rectangles, placing them into the oven. Then, you continued clearing up, realising Seokjin was doing the same.

Both of you had your bases in the oven, which meant, you’d both most likely finish around the same time. Although, he was a bit pressed for time. It’d most likely take him longer to assemble and decorate his cake than you would. You both had about forty-five minutes left. It was time to get serious. You pulled your pastry out of the oven, ensuring they were golden and crisp, but more importantly, cooked all the way through. You needed to cool them quick; you walked to the blast chiller, depositing your tray into the machine. You turned around and bumped into someone, immediately apologising before you looked up and realised it was Seokjin.

“Hey ____” Seokjin sing songs, looking down at you with a small smirk, his voice playful, and you instantly rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. You watch as he carefully places his tins into the machine, just under your tray. The two of you stay by the chiller, your arms crossed as you look around at all the other chefs, some of who were panicking as they ran out of time.

“Looks like we’re both going to be in the top again,” Seokjin says nonchalantly and you snort.

“When are we not at the top?” You snidely retort. It’s a rhetorical question considering both of you were always in the top and Seokjin knew that. Seokjin simply shrugs, looking back at you, his eyes glistening with something you just can’t seem to place. If you didn’t know any better, you’d assume it was pride. But there was no reason for him to be proud of you. In fact, if it was pride, it’d mainly because he was proud of himself.

“So, what are you making? Didn’t look like a cake” Seokjin asks casually and you feel your eyebrow twitch. It seemed to do that a lot whenever he was involved.

“If you can’t tell then maybe you should just drop out” You sarcastically respond and Seokjin laughs in that squeaky, carefree way that he does, that leaves you wanting to punch him in the throat.

“Well I know you’re making a mille-feuille, I just thought you’d make something a bit more interesting, you know? I guess I overestimated your skills” Seokjin says nonchalantly and you can feel the nerve on your forehead throb in anger.

“Excuse me? Those are big words coming from someone making a cake” You retort and Seokjin shrugs.

“Yeah, maybe. But I’m not the pâtissier out of the two of us, am I?” He replies with a smirk and your fingers twitch, the urge to smack him coursing through your palms. How dare he? How dare he just come here and insult you like that!

“Anyway, my cakes should be cool now. See you at the end. Maybe I’ll win this round,” Seokjin says with a wink and your eyes widen before you let out an incredulous laugh.

“I don’t think so, Kim. You have yet to beat me when it comes to desserts” You replied smugly and Seokjin snickers, his eyes glinting mischievously.

“There’s a first time for everything. Maybe you’ll forget to add sugar to your dish, who knows” Seokjin taunts and you clench your jaw lest you scream at him.

That bastard.

As if you would ever make such a stupid mistake in your own discipline. That ass. One day you’d wipe that stupid smirk off of his stupidly pretty face. Really who was that stupidly pretty?!

You grab your tray from the blast chiller and stalk over to your counter, grumbling the entire time. You’d show him. You quickly whip up the Chantilly cream, ensuring it’s stiff but light and flavoured just right before you carefully begin assembling your mille-feuille. You place the first pastry layer on the presentation dish, dusting it with a light coating of icing sugar before pipping on the cream over, garnishing with the strawberries and drizzling a sparing layer of the coulis. Not too much; just enough to enhance the flavour but not enough to turn the pastry, that you worked so hard into making crispy and flaky, soggy. You continue layering until you hit the third and last layer.

You place the pastry gently on top, making sure all the edges line up. When satisfied, you pipe small dollops of cream, topping them off with strawberries and mint leaves to add some vibrant colours to your dish. You quickly glance at the time, smiling when you realise you have just enough to finish with a light dusting of icing sugar and cinnamon and then clear up so your counter is sparklingly clean. You finish up quickly and then gently cover up your dish. It’s a beautiful concoction of reds, greens, whites and golden brown. The dessert almost makes your mouth water and you know you’re sure to pass. It may not be extravagant but it was perfect.

“A minute left. Please start bringing your dishes up” Head Chef Sejin calls out and you grab your dish, walking up to the judges. You place yours down and bow, the chefs all smiling at you. From the corner of your eye, you see Seokjin bring up his own dish and briefly, very, very briefly you wonder what would happen if you just tripped him up. However, both of you believed in the integrity of healthy competition and neither of you had ever sabotaged each other before. So instead, you just glared at the huge expanse of the back of his shoulders as he walked up to the table, placing his own dish down.

Soon, other students began bringing up their dishes and you winced slightly at some of them. Even now, in the third year, people made stupid mistakes when cooking. It was why these exams took place, to put people under the time pressure and stress they’d face when in the kitchen of their own restaurants someday. One person had forgotten to cool down their cake and thus the cream was slowly melting. It seemed like another hadn’t had enough time to cook their cake, causing it to collapse in the middle. You grimaced at those two; a mishap that big was sure to lead in failure and as a result expulsion.

Sadly, Seokjin’s cake was as beautiful as your mille-feuille, with pristine piping, delectable, soft-looking peaks of Chantilly cream and a vibrant array of fruit from kiwis to summer berries. There wasn’t much you could fault him for in his presentation. Even when compared to your perfect dessert. The deciding factor would be the taste. You were sure of it.

The judging process slowly began, and slowly people were eliminated. The two who had panicked had received 0s like you had predicted. Other than that, the lowest score was 46 and the highest so far 78. And then, Head Chef Sejin looked at you and Seokjin. He regarded you both with smiles and you immediately feel nervous. Chef Sejin was currently the best pâtissier in Asia and he was your idol. No matter how many times he judged and approved of your work, you still got nervous, hoping it was up to his expectations.

“I take it you two are competing again?” Head Chef Sejin asks and both you and Seokjin nod, causing Chef Sejin to laugh. Your rivalry with Seokjin was widely known throughout the school, most people anticipating it. The Head Chefs even actively encouraged the friendly competition, sometimes pitting other students against each other in order to drive them further and give them a purpose, a reason to excel and do better than they already could. Of course, you and Seokjin had been non-stop competing for three years now.

“Alright then, Seokjin, I believe you are the current winner, from your last exam? Would you like to go first?” Chef Sejin asks and Seokjin nods. You watch with bated breath as Chef Sejin cuts up the cake, the judges oohing at the soft, airy texture of the sponge. How he managed that without eggs, you’d forever be surprised but you wouldn’t dare openly compliment him. The judges begin tasting small bites, all smiling and noting down their scores. They quickly look at each other, discussing the results and then Chef Sejin smiles at Seokjin.

“Truly, a beautiful sponge. Airy and soft, despite the lack of eggs provided. How did you manage this?” Chef Sejin asks and Seokjin smiles.

“I substituted the butter for oil to give the sponge a lighter texture and added both baking soda and baking powder with a little bit of lemon juice react with the two powders to make it airier,” Seokjin says simply and the corner of your lip twitches. Damn him.

“Ah, of course. A wonderful job, and 98, the highest score of the class so far. And now for ____ 's mille-feuille” Chef Sejin compliments Seokjin before looking at you kindly; however, your shoulders stiffen. That was an awfully high score. It meant you now had to score a 99 or perfect 100 in order to beat him. You could feel the hairs on your spine stand as you anxiously awaited the judging of your own dessert. You were almost sure it was perfect, to you it was. And granted, you’d never scored anything less than a perfect on a dessert or bread dish. But Seokjin was right. There was a first time for everything.

There could be a number of times in the future when your dish wouldn’t score a perfect. Today could be one of those times. You watched with bated breath as the judges cut up your mille-feuille, the pastry crackling under the knife before it glided through the cream and fruit. You sucked in a deep breath, watching as the judges daintily put a spoonful of the pastry and cream into their mouths. It was as if time moved slowly. Every chew, every ooh and ah. The palpitating of your heart pounded in your eardrums, your palms behind your back sweaty, wrists wringing nervously. Chef Sejin placed his fork down and then the judges began writing down their own scores. You can feel Seokjin near you but you’re too tense to even give him a second thought. You don’t notice the way he looks at you, a knowing look on his face. You don’t notice the way he lets out a small, displeased sigh before shaking his head.

“Once again ____, you’ve outdone yourself. This was… absolutely perfect. The texture of the pastry was crumbly and flaky, cooked to perfection. The cream soft but stiff and the sweetness of the strawberries are cut beautifully by the cinnamon and tanginess of the orange in the coulis. Truly a masterpiece. Congratulations, another perfect 100” Chef Sejin compliments and you release your breath, grinning brightly at the older man despite your still shaky hands. You quickly bow in thanks, your heart beating rapidly in your chest as you beam with pride. The chefs thank all the students before they begin leaving. You spin on your heels, grinning at Seokjin.

“Well, Seokjin. That brings us both to three hundred and fifty-eight. I believe that means it’s another tie. Of course, I’ll be sure to win the next round” You say and Seokjin looks down at you, his face blank. Your fists clench slightly because despite his blank expression, you can still see the slight disappointment in his eyes and you know it’s not because he lost.

“Any first-year could have made that. Like I said, I was hoping for something more. Besides, win? Lose? Who cares, at the end of the day, I still have this face. Therefore, who is the real winner here?” Seokjin says and with that, he walked away. You can feel your cheeks and ears burn with rage, your fists clenched on either side of your body. And that was exactly why you’d never compliment him on anything, his dishes, his looks or anything. Because not once, not a single time had he ever admitted your dishes were good or that you had done well. All he ever did was criticise you and your work.

God, you hated him.

Storming into your apartment, you slam the door shut, the vibrations reverberating through the room. You stomp into the living room, throwing your stuff haphazardly onto the sofa before making your way into your bedroom. You let out a frustrated scream, flinging yourself into the bed before kicking your legs rather childishly. You could not believe him. Where did he get off telling you that any first-year could have made your mille-feuille? It was perfect! You’d pay any first-year 500,000 won if they could replicate it!

You scowl into your pillow, eyes narrowed as your blood boils at the thought of Seokjin’s words. He was honestly so full of himself. You couldn’t wait to triumph over him and put him in his place. Granted, it would only last for a short time. But still! You were determined to come out on top. His words flash through your head once again and you let out another scream, this time muffled by your pillow. You grabbed your pillow and threw it against the wall, finally working out most of your frustration.

You sat up with a groan, a scowl still on your face. Your shoulders were tense and your back ached from standing up all day cooking. A shower, you decide, was the best course to work off not only the day’s grime but also to calm you down. You tut slightly at yourself, reprimanding yourself for allowing Seokjin to work you up so much. Getting off your bed, you stripped down to just your panties, exhaling with relief as soon as your breasts were out of the wretched cage that was your bra.

Stepping into the en-suite bathroom, you turned the shower on, letting it heat up for a few minutes before stepping in. With a loud sigh, you let the hot water run along your body. The heat of the water, powered with the steam, slowly worked your exhaustion and frustration out. You felt your sore muscles slowly relaxing, rolling your shoulders to remove the kinks. You lathered your body in soap, allowing the loofa to gently exfoliate your skin. It was almost ritualistic, with each stroke you could feel your ire at Seokjin slowly decreasing.

You spend another fifteen minutes under the shower, letting the hot water run over your body. Finally, when your fingers start pruning, you decide to step out. Wrapping a large fluffy terry cloth towel around yourself, you pad bag into your bedroom. As much as the shower has helped, you still can’t help but feel the slightest bit of tension persist in your muscles. Your eyes flick to beside your bed and you make a split-second decision. 

Crawling in bed, you made yourself comfy. You slowly unwrapped the towel from your body, dropping it to the floor. You shivered slightly, your nipples hardening from the cool air. The difference in temperate from the steamy bathroom to your cool bedroom was highly noticeable, especially considering you were completely naked. You relaxed further, sinking into your bed as you’re hand slowly drifted down to your stomach, working your way towards your naked sex. Your body was already slowly heating up and you can no longer register the chill of the room against your still slightly damp body.

Your fingers circled your belly button, your skin prickling under the sensation as you gradually lose yourself in the pleasurable haze, your breath hitching. Without a second thought, your hand slowly worked down towards your wettening pussy, letting out a low groan when your hand brushed lightly against your clit, the small bundle of nerves hardening against your hand. You loosely played with your slit, a finger barely dipping in before pulling out, spreading your wetness all over your lips.

You bit your lip at the sensation, needing more but wanting to draw out the feeling. Involuntarily, you rolled your hips, trying to get more friction against your hands, your breathing heavy now. Unconsciously, one of your hands moved to your breast and your eyes immediately slipped shut. You imagined a faceless man, with dark hair and broad shoulders hovering over you. You imagined it was his hand playing with your nipple instead, rolling your breast in his palms before flicking the nipple with his thumb. Vaguely, the man you’d imagined looked familiar to you, but in your lust induced haze, you didn’t care.

You moved your second hand to your other breast, lightly squeezing and massaging, pinching one nipple between your thumb and forefinger as the other continued rolling your other nipple. You let out a shuddering breath, hips now grinding against the bed as you pussy cried out for attention, weeping with your arousal. Your nipple aches against the hand pinching it, the delicious pain only making you cry out weakly at the sensation. You squeeze harder, twisting slightly and moaning at the sharper pain before releasing it. Desire burned in your veins, imagining the man squeezing even harder, wishing his puffy pink lips could wrap around them. Pink lips? When did the faceless man have lips?

Your mind floods with fervour, mouth dry as if all your wetness seeped from it towards your aching cunt. A wanton cry escapes your lips, your sex crying out to be touched, to give it some friction and relieve the ache deep within your cunt. You raise your knees slightly before spreading your thighs almost obscenely, shivering at the sensation of the cold air against your hot, needy pussy. Your fingers flit against the soft flesh of your sensitive thighs. You’re so close and you curse yourself for drawing out the pleasure for this long. You still imagine the man is over you; it’s him that’s teasing you and you now find yourself cursing him.

You gingerly move your fingers to your folds, back arching slightly. Your nerves are afire, your lust seeping into every pore in your body. Fingers slowly splay your pussy open, and you imagine it’s the faceless man’s crooked fingers instead of your own, shuddering once again at the cold air. The heady, musky scent of your arousal fills the room. Every one of your senses is clogged by desire; your arousal is so thick that you can both smell and taste it. You can feel the stickiness between your legs, your juices coating your thighs and you can hear the slight squelching of your pussy lips.

A prolonged, needy groan escapes your throat as your fingers finally come into contact with your hard clit. Your middle finger pushed down, pressing into the bundle and you exhale breathily, rolling it under the pad of your fingertip. Your finger slowly pushed down, spreading your lips and wetness coating your pussy before you curl your finger back towards your bud. You cry out again and again as you work your clit over and over again but you need more.

You blindly reach over to your bedside table, opening the draw as you continue playing with your clit. You open the drawer, reaching inside and feeling around until you touch the cool plastic of your vibrator ring. You claw at it, grabbing it before reluctantly removing your hand from your clit. You slip the ring onto your finger, before switching it on. Your hand hastily moves back to your sex and you cry out at the low reverberations of the vibrator strumming against your clit, eyes almost rolling back.

Your pussy is on fire, clenching and unclenching uncontrollably; your abdomen flips and tightens, your orgasm slowly nearing. But you’re still missing something. You let the vibrator rest against your clit, stimulating you over and over again, your heart beating rapidly, thundering in your ears. You suddenly plunge one finger into you, mewling at the sensation, imagining it was the man’s long crooked fingers instead, while simultaneously wishing your fingers were longer. Slowly, you press a second finger into you, wincing at the stretch before your mouth gapes open in pleasure. You imagine it’s the faceless man who is rapidly sinking two fingers into you, his plush lips pulled into a small smirk, nose slightly scrunched and strong, thick eyebrows furrowed as he brings you the most pleasure you’ve had in a while. You’re too lost in your own pleasure to even realise the faceless man’s features slowly forming.

Your cunt feels like velvet, gripping and rippling against your fingers, leaking with your arousal. Your hips grind down against your hand, thrusting into them as you force your clit harder against the vibrating ring, trying to press your fingers deeper into your cunt. You press a third finger in, wincing even more at the stinging sensation and the stretch but you need more and so you persevere against the pain, pushing deeper and deeper until your pussy swallows all three of your fingers. You almost shriek, pistoning them in harder, in and out, repetitively.

You grind harder and harder, moaning and groaning, eyes rolling back into your skull as you pant. Your orgasm is so close. Your pussy is dripping all over your hand and you’re sure you’ve left a slight puddle of your juices on your bedsheets but you don’t care. You push your hips harder once again and curl your fingers, pressing the pad against the rough skin of your g-spot. The overwhelming sensations of your thrusting fingers against the spongy highly sensitised skin inside you paired with the vibration against your clit has your legs trembling.

You feel yourself climbing higher and higher until finally, you release. You let out a stuttering scream. Your orgasm ricochets through you faster than you can process. You cry out louder, chasing your high and riding your fingers. Your walls ripple uncontrollably against your fingers, savouring the touch and high as you tremble and quake violently, legs spasming as you press the vibrator harder against your clit. You let the tide of your climax wash through you, carrying you along with the wave and drowning you in intoxication until you finally pull out, the sensitivity in your cunt too much to handle.

You breathe heavily, the buzzing of the vibrator still continuous as you come down from your high. You pant, your skin flushed and tingling from the post aftershocks of your orgasm, your sweat matted hair sticking to your forehead. Your brain slowly adjusts, pulling itself out of the lust-filled cloud it had found itself in. The man slowly faded from your mind’s eye. You let out a satiated sigh, wondering just who you had been imagining. Deciding not to dwell too much of it however, you slowly pull yourself under the covers, allowing sleep to take you.

It’s a week later when you see him. The exam period had ended and once again, the two of you were tied at three hundred and ninety-six each. You were getting frustrated which each and every win and loss. The balance had to tip in someone’s favour. You couldn’t keep winning and losing against him forever. You couldn’t tie forever. Someone had to give. You’re currently stood in the assembly area; you and the rest of the third-year students all gathered. A slight sense of dread fills you. You have no idea why you’ve all been gathered together, but it cannot be good. Headmaster Bang was known for throwing loops into the student’s schedules; planning hard tasks after exams to weed out the worst chefs and to have the top of the top chefs further excel.

“____!” Jimin called, running up to you with Jungkook and Taehyung in tow. You waved and smiled at the two of them. You were glad they had made it passed the exams. Jimin, was your best friend; the two of you as thick as thieves since your first class when Jimin had somehow preheated the oven too high, resulting in the glass shattering from heat and pressure. Don’t get it wrong, Jimin was a wonderful chef, albeit a bit clumsy. His own speciality was spice. The boy could create spicy foods that had your mouth screaming and your throat burning and yet you couldn’t help but spoon more mouthfuls as it was just that addicting. Jungkook was a ramen specialist. Give the boy some noodles and an array of ingredients and he could create a bountiful concoction of savoury flavours that would make anyone’s mouths water. Including yours. And finally, there was poor Taehyung.

You weren’t even sure how he’d managed to progress to the third year. He wasn’t bad per se but he wasn’t Academy level either. But somehow, he’d survived to the third year. His foods couldn’t rival with the top of the academy, but there was something about Taehyung’s food. It tasted like home. Kind of like a mother’s love. Homey and comforting. It may not have been perfect and he may not be at the top of the academy, but it was his. A style completely unique to Taehyung. The kind of comfort food you crave when sick or hungover, the food you crave after a broken heart, the food you crave when you miss home or your family. Soul food. That was Taehyung’s speciality.

The four of you stood quietly chatting amongst yourselves, wondering what Headmaster Bang had prepared for the third-year students. You continue looking around, realising that the exams had resulted in even more expulsions. At the start of your third year, there were roughly three hundred students still left and now, there were only about half of that, maybe a few more. The hair at the nape of your neck stands on edge and you feel the presence of someone behind you. You quickly turn around, yelping when you come face to chest with someone. You look up and almost growl when you’re met with Seokjin’s face. He’s surrounded by his best friends, Hoseok, Namjoon and Yoongi.

“Is there a reason you’re so close to me, asshole?” You scorn and Seokjin smirks down at you.

“Awfully hostile today, aren’t we ____?” Seokjin jests and you feel your eyebrow begin to twitch. Honestly, at this point, it was almost like a reflex whenever he was concerned.

“Can we not have a single time when we meet that you both don’t fight?” Namjoon asks and you pout. Namjoon was similar to Taehyung, as in no one had any idea how he’d managed to make it into the third year with next to no cooking skills. He was clumsy, often hurt himself in the kitchen and made stupid mistakes like the time he put his hand in boiling water to check if his udon noodles were done. However, if there was one thing Namjoon was good at, it was leading. He was incredibly intelligent with vast amounts of charisma and patience, all which made him excellent at any leadership role. Consequently, that was why he was training to be a restaurant manager rather than a chef. The boy couldn’t cook to save his life, but no one could run and lead a restaurant better than he could.

“He started it!” You childishly reply and Hoseok chuckles, shaking his head while Yoongi huffs.

“You’re not six ____,” Yoongi reprimands and once again you pout. Yoongi was a master fermenter. Anything from alcohol to cheeses, if you could ferment it, Yoongi would master it and ensure that anything he fermented was the highest quality.

“It’s not like Jin-hyung doesn’t act six himself whenever ____ is concerned” Hoseok defends and you quickly send him an appreciative glance, causing him to wink at you. Hoseok, for as bright and bubbly as he was, was a demon in the kitchen. Specifically, if it included seafood. He could butcher a hanging monkfish with precision unlike any other and deshell and plate a lobster blindfolded. The man was legendary when it came to seafood.

See the worst thing about Seokjin, were his friends. Not because you hated them or anything, your rivalry was with Seokjin and Seokjin only. Your hatred stemmed from the fact that they were also your friends. The issue was that both his friendship group and yours were pretty damn integrated, meaning that even outside of class you had to sometimes see and interact with him. Although, most of those interactions ended up with either the both of you challenging each other to another cook-off or you screaming and stomping away from how ridiculously annoying he could be. Before either you or Seokjin can retaliate, you notice everyone begin to stand straighter. You quickly turn back around to the podium, watching all the academy head chefs begin bowing as Headmaster Bang walks onto the stage. You take a deep breath, steeling in all your nerves for whatever he was about to announce.

“Good afternoon. You’re all probably wondering why, just after your last exams, I’ve gathered all third years here. Well, that is because passing those exams means that you are one step closer to your goals. Graduating from Big Hit Academy of Culinary Arts. For decades, my family has cultivated the best chefs in Asia through this academy. This academy has a reputation for producing the best of the best. However, that comes at a price. The exams are increasingly difficult and any failures result in immediate expulsion. However, this process has led to the production of world-class chef graduates. Congratulations to all of you who have made it here today. But, your assessment doesn’t end there. With the end of your exams, comes your next challenge” Headmaster Bang begins and as soon as the words leave his mouth, you hear everyone begin to groan.

“You are all third years, soon to graduate. However, we cannot let you graduate without first-hand experience of working in a restaurant. Therefore, you will all be paired up and placed in a restaurant for a week. Each restaurant has a different passing criterion, meaning the condition to pass in one restaurant will be different from the condition to pass in another. Anyone who fails to meet their criteria will fail and be expelled. Pairings are based on your performance within the academy within the last three years. Now, we will begin calling out your pairings along with the restaurant you will be working at” Headmaster Bang concludes and you let out a little sigh, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to catch a break for the next week at least.

Your small group of friends listen as names are called out along with pairings. Namjoon and Taehyung are paired together, which makes sense considering both of them somehow fail half their classes; Namjoon due to his lack of cooking skills – knowledge only helps so much – and Taehyung because of how nervous he can get during exams. Jimin and Hoseok are also paired off together with Yoongi and Jungkook making up another pair. You snicker slightly, wondering which idiot would be stuck with Seokjin considering all your friends are now paired up. You grin mirthfully when Headmaster Bang calls out Seokjin’s name, listening eagerly for the name of his poor, poor partner.

“Kim Seokjin and _____ _____, you will be in Hunan, a small Chinese restaurant. Please see head chef Hobeom for details” Headmaster Bang calls out and you immediately pale when your name is called out. Now that you thought about it, of course, it was you. Your grades were only matched by Seokjin so of course, it was you who was his poor, poor partner.

“Well, guess it’s you and me partner” You hear Seokjin snigger against your ear and immediately feel despair wash over you at his overly pleased tone.

This was, undoubtedly, going to be the worst week of your life.

A couple days later, you find yourself staring curiously at the restaurant your challenge would be taking place at. The academy had arranged for you and Seokjin to stay in a nearby hotel considering the restaurant was pretty far from campus. However, the more you look at the restaurant, the more you’re confused. It’s completely empty. At first, you had thought that perhaps it was just closed; but that wasn’t the case. The sign read open, the lights were on and you could see the staff milling about idly inside, doing nothing as they stared out the window. You frowned slightly before checking the time. It read 7:30pm, which was prime time for a restaurant to be busy. You looked around, the streets were bustling and other restaurants were full of happy customers. So why was this one completely empty?

“Weird isn’t it? I wonder why it’s empty” a voice says from right beside your ear and you immediately jump, almost screaming at the sudden presence of someone next to you. Seokjin lets out a shrill laugh, shoulders shaking as he watches you glare at him.

“Don’t fucking do that you ass!” You reprimand with a glower, Seokjin shrugging.

“Not my fault you weren’t paying attention. I did say hi, you just weren’t listening” Seokjin says and a small part of you wants to slap him but you know that won’t get you anywhere. So instead, you take a deep breath and calm yourself down.

“Whatever. Let’s go” You say, approaching the restaurant. The two of you enter, the staff immediately standing with bright, hopeful grins as one of the wait staff approaches both of you with menus.

“Hello! Welcome to Hunan! Table for two?” The man asks with a bright smile. So, the emptiness of the restaurant didn't have anything to do with the customer service then. You look at him sheepishly before bowing.

“We apologise, we’re not here to dine. We’re the students from Big Hit Academy, we’re here to work in your restaurant for a week” You say apologetically and the staff deflate immediately.

“I see. Let me go get the owner” The waiter says and you nod before watching him disappear into the back. A couple moments later, he returns, this time with a young, slender woman.

“Hello! You must be ____ and Seokjin! Thank you so much for coming. I’m Wei Meilin, but you can call me Mei. I’m both the owner and the chef of Hunan” She says, greeting you both with a bow. You and Seokjin both introduce yourselves with a small bow too.

“How can we help you?” Seokjin asks and Mei sighs, looking around forlornly.

“As you can see, my restaurant is completely empty. This has been happening for a while actually. You see, I was gifted this restaurant by my parents because it’s been my lifelong dream to own an authentic Chinese restaurant. It’s even in a prime location and the restaurant is newly renovated. But I can’t seem to draw in customers at all. That’s where you guys come in. I need help to bring in customers” Mei says and you immediately blanch. So, your entire challenge was to prevent a restaurant from going bankrupt and closing down? How the hell were you supposed to do that?

“We’ll try our hardest! But first, do you have any idea why the restaurant could be failing?” Seokjin asks and you gape at him, completely agog. Did he really believe there was a chance the two of you could save this place? You were just students, granted at the top of your class in the best culinary academy in Asia, but still, this seemed almost like an impossible task.

“Honestly, it could just be due to the competition. When I first opened, we had customers who wanted to try the new restaurant and business was good at first. But considering there are a number of Chinese restaurants around here, we just started losing customers until it became like this” Mei says, looking slightly downcast. Your heart gripes for her and you send her a reassuring smile, solidifying your resolve.

“We’ll help you in any way we can! By the end of this week, your restaurant will be back on its feet!” You say, determination sparkling in your eyes. Mei’s eyes widen and she immediately nods, fists balling up as she pumps them.

“I’ll show you both to the kitchen! I don’t know how I can help you because I’ve tried everything, but if you have any ideas please let me know! I’ll be in the office going over the books” Mei says before leaving you and Seokjin to yourselves. As soon as she leaves, you let out a sigh; glowering at Seokjin.

“What’s your issue?” Seokjin asks causing you to frown.

“What do you mean what’s my issue? Do you honestly think we could do this?” You ask and Seokjin’s left eyebrow rises.

“You’re the one who promised we’d get the restaurant back on its feet” Seokjin points out.

“Only because you said we’d try our hardest! We’re students, how are we supposed to stop a restaurant going bankrupt?” You snapped.

“It doesn’t matter, does it? Because this is our task. If we don’t complete it, we fail and both get expelled. And I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not be expelled when graduation is so near” Seokjin says simply and immediately your anger deflates, knowing he was correct.

“Uh whatever, let’s just figure out the problem” You replied, taking a seat at one of the counters. Seokjin takes a seat beside you, flicking through the recipe book Mei had most likely left out for the two of you to browse through.

“Could it be the menu?” You asked curiously, peering over his shoulder to peep at the different recipes.

“No,” Seokjin says, shutting your question down immediately. You clench your fists, ire rising as you grow agitated at his short response. However, you take a deep breath, knowing that you needed to somehow work with him in order to complete the test set by your academy.

“And why is that? You grit out and Seokjin shows you Mei’s recipes. You quickly skim through them, a small frown marring your face when you reach the end.

“See? Her recipes are good. In fact, they’re great. Any of these dishes would be wonderfully flavoured. The spices are harmonious with each other and if the meat or vegetables are cooked to perfection, then she should have no issue with her actual food. It’s not the menu that’s the problem” Seokjin says matter of factly and you grimace.

“Yes, thank you, I’m not completely incompetent, I got that” You mutter under your breath even though you know he can hear you.

“Never said you were incompetent” Seokjin deadpans.

“You’ve never said I was competent either” You rebuke, Seokjin’s mouth quirks slightly before he shrugs you off. You sincerely hated how much he did that.

“If it’s not the menu, then maybe the location?” You ask and once again Seokjin shoots you down as soon as the words escape your lips.

“No. This is a prime location, she shouldn’t have problems with it, especially enough to be a completely deserted restaurant. You saw the number of people outside. The streets were busy” Seokjin recounts. You clench your fists tight, nails digging into your palms as he once again shuts you down.

“Then it has to be the competition like she said” You grit out through clenched teeth. This time Seokjin sighs, looking at you stoically.

“No. There are multiple Chinese restaurants, they’re all competing with each other. Why is it only Hunan that’s completely empty? It doesn’t make sense” Seokjin says calmly and this time, your fists bang into the table, startling him.

“What’s wrong?” Seokjin asks as you glower at him.

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong?! You! That’s what’s wrong. You keep shutting down my suggestions. If it’s not any of that then what could be the issue? Considering you keep saying no to my suggestions, it means you have to know right? You know what’s wrong? Because you’re so much better than me. So, go on. What is it? What’s the problem Mr-I’m-Better-Than-You? Tell me so you can brag about how you figured it out before me and gloat about how much better of a chef than me you are” You finally blow up, unable to contain yourself anymore. Seokjin reels, baulking at you.

“Where is this coming from? Firstly, I’m not shutting you down, I’m just telling you that it couldn’t be the problems you raised. Was I being difficult or unreasonable? Or did I not give you valid reasons as to why the issues with the restaurant couldn’t be what you thought? Secondly, I have never once said I was better than you, nor have I ever thought it, so I have no idea where you got those ideas from” Seokjin says calmly and you let out a humourless laugh.

“Oh please. Don’t act like you haven’t. Of course, you think you’re better than me. That’s why you never compliment my dishes, that’s why we have this stupid rivalry where we continuously try to beat each other. Because you think you’re better than me. Because you think my desserts and dishes suck. Because you think your cooking is better than mine!” You exploded, pointing an accusatory finger at Seokjin.

"Is that why you think I don't compliment your dishes? Have you really deluded yourself that much that you think I don't compliment you because I'm better than you?" Seokjin questions, a mixture of disbelief and incredulity marring his face.

"Well, what else could it be? You always look disappointed every time I score higher on an exam. That's the reason for our rivalry, right? Because you're upset I beat you even though you think you're a better chef than I am?" You scoff. Seokjin shakes his head, letting out a little exasperated sigh.

"Is that the reason you're always so hostile towards me? Because you think that I think I'm better than you?" Seokjin asks, tone calm as he looks at you, completely bewildered.

"I mean... yes? Why else?" You say, now more confused than angry. Why was he just randomly bringing this up? What else could it have been? Your entire rivalry stemmed from how much he grated your nerves. From how he thought he was better than you. It's the reason you had started competing all those years ago. No one rubbed you the wrong way like Seokjin did.

"Okay. Well, let's get something straight. I don't think I'm better than you. Nor have I ever thought that. That's not the reason I'm disappointed nor is that the reason for our rivalry, at least not in my case. I don't understand how you've managed to twist this so much. Here I thought you got mad because we always drew or because we've always been around the same level and you wanted to do better than me. But clearly, that's not the case. If I had realised it earlier, I would have set you straight" Seokjin says; your brows immediately furrow, your back straightening as you regard him with scepticism.

"Well, then what's the reason?" You snap impatiently. You watch as Seokjin's shoulder slump slightly before he turns back to the menu, flicking through it idly.

"I have never once thought that you were beneath me, or that I was better than you. In fact, it's the opposite. I consider us both equals. You, as a chef, are entirely on my level. No one else could rival me the way you do, no one else could keep up with me the way you do. That's the reason I compete with you. Because you keep me on my toes. Because you make me a better chef. I like competing with you because you inspire me to do better, to make my dishes that bit more delicious, to make them a bit more appetising. No one motivates me like you do. No one makes me want to cook or be a better chef than you do" Seokjin starts and with each and every one of his words you're left astounded.

You're completely speechless, unable to reply or even say anything. Because really, what could you say to that? The entire time he speaks, he doesn't look at you but you see his ears turn from their lightly tanned shade to a bright red; a clear sign that he's embarrassed, even if it's not apparent on his face. You startle slightly, since when did you pay enough attention to Kim Seokjin to be able to read him like that?

"And the reason behind my disappointment every time you score higher has nothing to do with me thinking someone worse than me beat me. It's everything to do with how despite the fact that I consider you to be on my level, you have no faith in yourself. Have you ever realised how much you rely on others to compliment your dishes? How much you care about what the Head Chef's think? Okay sure, their words mean something as they're examining us. But it's like… if they said anything bad about your dish that you'd completely fall apart. You're entirely too reliant on what other people think of your desserts and I don’t like that. It disappoints me that my rival, someone who can keep up with me, someone I consider equal to me, cares so much about another person’s opinion. It annoys me that you don't have confidence in your own dishes" Seokjin continues; you take in a sharp breath, nervously shifting now. He turns towards you, staring at you straight and making you gulp.

There's a certain fire behind his eyes, a slight intensity that has you on edge. Because you know he's right. You never were confident in your dishes. You always focused too much on the what ifs. What if it was overly sweetened? What if you hadn't whipped the cream to perfection. What if you overworked the dough and the bread turned out to be hard and chewy rather than soft and fluffy like you wanted it? Often, you were held back by your own securities. Sometimes, you'd panic during exams and need to take a deep breath even though history has proven that you were at the top of Big Hit Academy. That is unless Seokjin was involved. The epiphany comes as a slight shock to you.

"Except for when you're in an exam with me. You're never as sure in your own dishes unless you're up against me. You're always confident and you believe that you can score a better grade than me. That makes me happy. It makes me happy that somehow you have enough confidence in yourself to trash talk and tell me that you're the better chef. But then the judging begins, and you turn back into that anxious ball of stress, so worried that you may not score high enough or that you may fail. Why is that? Why do you, the joint top chef with me, worry so much about failing? When have you ever scored a grade lower than a 90? I hate it. I hate that you rely on others opinions. Yes, as chefs we cook for other people. But what do other people's opinions matter when you're not confident in your own dessert or own dish? You need to learn to rely on yourself. You're only ever confident with me because your annoyance for me apparently outweighs your insecurities. But I want to see that in you always, in any exam. I want to see you be more confident in yourself, as a chef" Seokjin finishes and you're entirely blown away by his sudden tangent.

Your heart is palpitating in your chest as you realise that Seokjin was entirely correct. You were only ever confident with him, how had you never realised that? But more importantly, how much had Seokjin been paying attention to you to have realised that before even you had? You think back to all the times you had caught Seokjin watching you during any exams you'd both had together. Previously, you'd always believed that he was trying to unnerve you or trying to get under your skin, but now you wonder if he was simply watching you. If he was simply learning about you. You have no idea why, but the thought of it causes your heart to race even quicker, your face heating up.

"I- I didn't know that" You replied quietly, unable to look him in the eye. For three years you had hated Seokjin because you thought that he mocked you. Because you thought he thought he was better than you. You had always considered your rivalry something where you had to beat him, where you had to come up on top. Never had you thought of it like Seokjin had; as a way to make you a better chef. But now that you thought about it, it was true. Just like Seokjin, no one motivated you to do better. You always wanted to beat him and in doing so, you always wanted to experiment and strive to be a better chef. For three years you had hated Seokjin for reasons you had clearly deluded yourself into believing. But now, that wasn't the case. You had no idea what to say or how to respond.

"It's late. Why don't we call it a night?" You suddenly say, pushing your chair back as you abruptly get up. Seokjin jerks at the sound of your chair scraping against the linoleum tiled floor. He watches as you run out the kitchen, brows furrowed, wanting to call out to you. But you’re long gone.

You hurriedly walked through the restaurant, bowing to the servers and staff before quickly exiting. You take in a deep breath, Seokjin's words running through your head at a mile a minute. Your hand moves to your chest, palm flat as you try and still your racing heart. Confusion clouds your every fibre, as you ponder his words. Really what the hell was his problem? How dare he simply confuse you like that? You had spent three years hating him and now what? You knew very well that you couldn't hate him, not when he confessed that he didn't think he was better than you. Because now your hate isn’t justified and if you continued being hostile, it’d just be because you were being petty. You take another deep breath, once again trying to still your rapidly beating heart to no avail. Why did he have to mess you up and confuse you like that? And why the hell was your heart racing so much?

Damn Kim Seokjin.

He really was an ass.

The next day you walk into the restaurant, this time a lot calmer than you had been the night before when you'd all but run out on Seokjin after his confession. You hadn't even waited for him to join you, instead, racing back to the hotel as quickly as you could. You were still somewhat confused about where you now stood with Seokjin. You'd hated him for years and you knew you couldn't just continue hating him. Not when he had inadvertently made you a better chef than you thought. But you couldn't suddenly be best friends with him either, thus leaving you in a weird place where he was concerned. So, with determination coursing through your veins, you decide that you'd be civil. You enter the kitchen, noting that Seokjin is already there. Once again, he has the restaurant's recipe book out but this time, you note, he also has other pieces of scrap paper around him.

"Hey," Seokjin greets and you smile shortly, greeting him back. A large part of you feels completely awkward; this is foreign ground. You'd never been civil to Seokjin, much less had a pleasant conversation with him. But now, looking back at it, that was more your own fault than anything considering you’d usually be the first to get agitated. Of course, it didn't help that Seokjin taunted you either. But more often than not, you'd be the one who'd start the arguments.

"Hi. What's this?" You ask, pointing towards the papers littered around him.  The words are slightly stilted and your tone more than awkward but you remind yourself that you'd be polite and try and work things out with him.

"I visited a few restaurants nearby and took some notes. I think I figured out the problem" Seokjin says. You look at him with wide eyed wonder, quickly approaching him. You skim through the pieces of paper around him, realising they have restaurant names and then a few dishes under the name. With a frown, you realise that on each piece of paper there's one dish name circled.

"What's the issue?" You ask, taking a seat next to him.

"Signature dishes. Each and every restaurant around here has a signature dish that their restaurant specialises in. Hunan doesn't have that. I think that's the issue. A lot of the dishes between each restaurant are the same as Hunan's. But the others have a speciality that draws their customers in" Seokjin explains and your eyes bug out of your skull.

“That makes sense! That’s probably why other people are drawn to the other restaurants. If most of the menu is the same, there’s no reason to go to one over the other. But having a signature dish gives a restaurant a certain edge because no one can replicate that specific dish” You quickly respond, catching onto Seokjin’s explanation.

“Exactly and therefore since Hunan doesn’t have one, there’s no reason to come here. Especially when they could get any dishes on this menu at the other restaurants” Seokjin finishes.

“Wow, okay so we should create a signature dish for Hunan? What do you think we should do?” You ask and Seokjin lets out a small sigh, looking up at the ceiling as he ponders the thought.

“Well it needs to be something we can both contribute to, so desserts are out. We probably need something that includes both dough and something with meat. But nothing comes to mind right now and we also need to be sure other restaurants don’t have the same dish. I think we need to go around. I only managed to look at a couple restaurants before I had to be here. Do you want to go check the others out with me?” Seokjin asks, turning his gaze towards you.

“That sounds like a plan. Are we gonna sit in and try dishes or?” You question and Seokjin stares at you blankly.

“Why?”

“Well, it gives us time to look at the menu in more detail but also to check out their specialities, right? It’ll give us ideas for Hunan’s speciality if we try their food too” You explain, Seokjin nodding enthusiastically.

“That sounds like a really good idea. Come on, let’s go” Seokjin says, immediately grabbing your hand and dragging you out of the kitchen.

A few hours later, you find yourself treading besides Seokjin. The two of you had been to various restaurants around Hunan, and it was safe to say that you were more than full. In fact, you were sure the two of you had overeaten and you could feel your body becoming lethargic, needing a post food nap. You let out a slight yawn causing the man walking beside you to giggle. You felt yourself grow slightly agitated, elbowing him for mocking you. Although, even you could tell it had lost its usual angry lustre, now being more playful than anything.

“Sorry, you just look so cute yawning,” Seokjin says from beside you. His words are entirely nonchalant and he says them as if it’s no big deal but your entire body freezes and you instantaneously stop, gaping at his back as he continues walking. He gets a few steps ahead of you before realising you were no longer beside him. Seokjin turns around, raising his brow at you; silently questioning why you were no longer walking.

“What’s wrong?” He asks and you immediately close your jaw, shaking your head furiously as you stalk towards him. Your face is heated from his casual compliment and internally you curse him for his confusing words. You were rivals, why the hell was he calling you cute all of a sudden?

“Nothing! Absolutely nothing” You answer quickly, indignation lacing your tone. Seokjin stares at you in confusion before shrugging it off, chalking it up to one of your usual moods around him. You quickly catch up to him, but your pace is brisk and Seokjin is left reeling from your sudden mood change. He quickly thinks back to what he could have done to cause you to behave the way you are when it suddenly dawns on him. His entire face lights up, an impish smile on his face as he looks down at you.

“Are you embarrassed because I called you cute?” He asks slyly and your blood freezes before you shake your head furiously.

“No! Of course not! Why would I care what you think? Me? Embarrassed? Ha! Absolutely not. I’m not embarrassed that you called me c-c-cute. No, absolutely not!” You rapidly blurt out, flailing your arms around you. Seokjin watches you with poorly masked amusement and as soon as you stutter out your final words, you quickly catch yourself.

“Right, of course, you’re not,” Seokjin says, a knowing smile on his face. You let out a small scowl before clearing your throat.

“We don’t have a lot of time. Come on, let’s get back so we can brainstorm new ideas for Hunan’s speciality” You say quietly, tucking your hair behind your ear before once again stalking off.

“Cute” Seokjin chuckles, watching your retreating figure before jogging to catch up with you.

Another few hours later, the two of you find yourself in your hotel room. Seokjin is sat on the floor, leaning against your bed with a cushion in his lap while you lie on the bed beside him. You’ve both got various recipe cards, scrap paper with a mix of yours and Seokjin’s notes scrawled on them and various snack wrappers littered around you. Both your hair is messy from running your hands through it as you brainstormed different ideas but nothing was clicking so far.

“How about a signature hotpot?” Seokjin suggests and you shake your head once again, pointing towards a scrap piece of paper.

“There’s literally an entire restaurant dedicated to hotpot,” You remarked, Seokjin groaning.

“That was such a good idea. Everyone loves hotpot” He comments and you snort.

“Agreed, hotpots are amazing. But how was it a good idea? What would I have contributed?” You question and Seokjin shrugs.

“I don’t know, the noodles?” He jokes and you playfully smack the back of his head.

“You know I’m not a noodle expert. They don’t count as part of my discipline” You point out, causing him to sigh. He throws his head back, neck rested on your bed as he stares at the ceiling.

“Are we ever going to find something? The more I think about it, the more I think that our disciplines are complete opposites. Is there something that we could both create together?” Seokjin mumbles, more to himself than anything. You share in his slightly dejected thoughts. The number of Chinese restaurants around meant that there were very few things that weren’t already specialities and then if you added that you both needed to contribute, it was even slimmer to find a perfect dish. You quickly glanced over to the clock on your bedside table, before exhaling deeply.

“I think it’s time to call it a night. we’re both exhausted and we’ve been at this for hours. It may help to get a good night’s sleep and looking at this with fresh eyes in the morning” You say, Seokjin nodding as he yawns loudly. You watch his lips in a slight trance, the way they stretch out before returning to their usual plush and puffy state. Briefly, you wonder if they feel as soft as they look before shaking your head. You look away, gaping at the wall. Just how tired were you that your thoughts were straying to completely unnecessary and uncharted territory?

“That sounds like a good plan. I’ll see you tomorrow then” Seokjin says, grabbing the snack wrappers before standing to his full height. Your neck strains to look up at him from your position and you’re taken aback from how tall he really is. You’d never really noticed it, usually too busy scowling at him as you thought up ways you could beat him in your exams. But now that the two of you were alone, and on more civilized terms, you were truly able to take in his figure.

He was tall; so tall that he stood an entire head over you. And ridiculously broad; was it even possible to have such broad shoulders naturally? Especially with how narrow his waist and hips were, leading to long legs and thick thighs. With a startling realisation, you realise that Seokjin is handsome and far more beautiful than you had ever pegged him for. It should have been illegal or at least completely impossible to have been built like that with a face like that. It was unfair; how was anyone supposed to compete? You’d always thought he was stupidly attractive but this level of handsome was completely unnecessary.

“____? You okay?” Seokjin calls out and you abruptly jerk back, realising how close he was. His face is almost touching yours, and you can feel his warm breath against your lips as he stares curiously at you. All of a sudden, you let out a little squeal, pushing him away as you roll, trying to put more distance between him and you.

“Woah, you okay?” Seokjin asks and you nod rapidly, trying to stay as calm as possible despite your previously traitorous thoughts and rapidly pumping heartbeat.

“Perfectly fine!” You call out, quickly getting off the bed before placing your palms on his chest in an effort to push him out of your room. The minute your palms touch his chest however, you’re quickly wondering just what he looks like underneath his shirt because his chest feels hard and perfectly chiselled.

“____?” Seokjin asks curiously, and once again you realise that your mind was wandering to places you definitely did not want it to be.

“GOODNIGHT! BYE” You all but scream, pushing him towards the door before practically throwing him out, slamming the door in his face. As soon as he’s out, you scrunch your flushed face, leaning your head against the cool door.

“What is wrong with you? Get a grip of yourself! He’s your rival! Whether you’re on better terms not or not! You still have to beat him” You chastise yourself, reigning in your mind as you refuse to let your treacherous mind wander into that territory once again. You quickly slap your face with both hands before rushing into the bathroom to get changed. This was, undoubtedly, going to be a long week.

Two days later and you and Seokjin still haven’t come up with a solution to your task, no matter how much you’d brainstormed. You walk into the restaurant dejectedly on the fourth day. You had four days left until your challenge ended, which included today. How you were going to pass, you had no idea. You press open the steel door of the kitchen; however, instead of seeing Seokjin hunched over the counter with various pieces of paper like you were used to, you see him grinning with a wide array of ingredients around him. Your face crunches as you approach him curiously.

“What’s going on?” You ask as Seokjin throws you a chef jacket.

“BAO!” Seokjin all but yells in triumphant and you lurch slightly, astounded by his sudden outburst.

“What?” You question, puzzlement lacing your tone.

“Bao! I don’t know how we didn’t think of it before! But Hunan’s speciality should be Bao!” Seokjin explains and your eyes widen, shining with hope as you nod enthusiastically.

“Yes! Oh my god! That’s perfect!” You cry, abruptly and inadvertently throwing your hands around him in joy. Seokjin’s arms instinctively wrap around you and soon you’re both stiffening, unsure how to respond to the unfamiliar situation. You stare up at him, his dark gaze on you. It takes you a couple moments for you brain to kick back into gear; realising exactly what you’d done, you quickly let him go before clearing your throat, trying to stifle your blush.

“Right. Sorry about that, I wasn’t thinking” You quickly apologise; Seokjin simply laughs it off, hand rubbing the back of his head as he tries to play it cool, despite his red-hot ears.

“That’s fine, you were excited, it’s completely understandable,” Seokjin says, brushing it off. The two of you stand still, unsure of how to continue as an awkward tension washes over the two of you.

“So… how did you come up with bao?” You ask, trying to move on from the painful silence.

“Oh! I visited a small convenience store and they were selling frozen bao and it got me thinking. There is not a single bao restaurant in the vicinity and none of the restaurants have them on their menu. I think that’s why we completely forgot about them. But, it has both our disciplines. I can make the meat filling and you can make the bao dough yes?” Seokjin asks with a grin, beaming with pride.

“That’s…” You start with a smile before it slowly falls off your face. You want to congratulate him and tell him he’s done well, but you’re unsure how to. This was completely new territory for the both of you. You glance at Seokjin, realising he’s waiting for you to continue. You take in a deep breath, gathering all your strength and courage before stomping down your own screaming pride. Plastering a genuine smile on your face, you beam at him.

“That’s amazing Seokjin. Thanks…. I was starting to lose hope in completing this challenge” You mumble earnestly, rubbing your arm shyly. Seokjin’s eyes soften at how small you look before placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey! We’re two of the best students at the Academy. There was no way we’d fail this, right?” Seokjin says in an effort to cheer you up. You nod, the entire situation slightly jarring because here was Kim Seokjin, you sworn rival, comforting you. You shake off your thoughts, instead, taking off your outer jacket and slipping on the chef jacket as you get ready to work. You quickly tie your hair up and wash your hands, turning to him in determination.

“Alright! Let’s do this. You get started on the meat filling and I’ll start the dough” You immediately delegate. Seokjin raises his eyebrow at your sudden change in demeanour before he lets out a lopsided smile. With a mock salute, he turns and begins pulling out various meats from the fridge, getting to work.

Half an hour later, you spot Seokjin placing his pork into the oven. You turn back to your dough, kneading it as hard as you can as you try to get it to the correct consistency. Seokjin quickly clears up before walking up to you, watching you curiously. He takes a look at the large bowl, letting out a whistle at the amount of dough you have inside.

“That’s a lot of dough” Seokjin comments and you roll your eyes at the obvious statement.

“Yes, well done Sherlock. I figured we’d need more than one portion considering we need the staff to try it. Also, I assume you have more than one type of filling” You reply but Seokjin simply shakes his head, rolling his sleeves up.

“No, I thought we’d keep it simple and go with a classic. Char Siu Bao, a fan favourite and guaranteed to draw customers in” Seokjin states, sending you a thumbs up, as if he’d just advertised the best dish. You deflate slightly.

“It’s a good plan but this just means I’ve made too much dough” You almost whine, your arms already tired from all the kneading. Seokjin simply pats your head, drawing closer towards you.

“Here, let me help,” He says before placing his hand into the bowl with you. Your startle slightly, gawking up at him in astonishment. He ignores you, instead, focusing on kneading the dough in the bowl with you.

“I know I’m handsome but are you just going to stare or are you going to help? Your hand’s kind of in the way” Seokjin grins playfully and you feel the vein in your forehead throb as you tut at him.

“With the amount you call yourself handsome, some would think you were in love with yourself,” You remark, Seokjin chuckling at you.

“Is there something wrong with loving yourself?” He asks.

“I said in love with yourself, not loving yourself. There’s a difference” You reply, causing Seokjin to shrug.

“In love, loving yourself. It’s all the same when you have a face like a flower” Seokjin says, flicking his hair out of his forehead before fluttering his eyelashes at you. You burst into laughter at his ridiculousness, giggling as he grins at you.

“Wow, never thought I’d see the day you actually laughed at something I said. Usually, you’d just insult me and walk away. Does this mean you no longer hate me?” Seokjin questions out of curiosity and you immediately sober up from your giggling fit. Having Seokjin point it out feels weird, but the more you think about it, the more you realise he was right. This was weird. You were having a pleasant conversation with your rival and hadn’t felt the surge of hatred you usually felt when interacting with him.

“Hm. I guess I don’t. It’s easier to not hate you when I know you don’t think I’m beneath you. Besides, if I continued hating you now, it would only be out of pettiness” You explain, Seokjin grinning at your words.

“Aha! I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist my charms for too long” Seokjin teases, eyebrows rising suggestively, and you roll your eyes at his antics, refusing to even dignify him with a response.

“Yes, that’s what happened. Let’s just go back to kneading the dough. We still have the challenge to pass” You say, ending the conversation. Seokjin nods, saluting once again causing you to roll your eyes again.

You focus on kneading the dough once again; it’s almost to the consistency it needs to be; but with the amount of dough in the bowl, you know it’s going to take slightly longer than planned. Suddenly, you feel Seokjin’s hands bump against you, your fingers brushing against each other’s as he gently but firmly kneads the dough. Involuntarily, you watch the way his long but slightly crooked fingers work the dough, heel of his palm pressing into the bao mix... You’re almost mesmerised by the movements; you had never truly taken time to watch Seokjin work but right now, as he was gently working the dough, you realise that he, like you, truly loved cooking. You could feel the amount he cared for his craft through the gentleness of his touch, slowly but surely kneading the dough into submission. You watch the way his heel compresses into the soft mixture, dough pooling on either end of his palm.

“It looks about done, right? What do you think oh great Dough Master?” Seokjin jokes, looking at you for advice on whether to keep going or to stop. You glance up, and you faintly acknowledge that he’s said something. In fact, his lips are moving but you can no longer focus on his words, nor can you comprehend them. Instead, you’re completely lost in the way his lips move. They look incredibly pillowy and pink, a slight sheen on his upper lip from the heat of the kitchen. You wonder what they’d feel like against your own lips.

“____?” Seokjin finally says, waving dough covered hands in front of your face. You blink owlishly, your eyes coming back into focus as you’re brought out of your thoughts. You stare up at him questioningly, hoping he’ll repeat himself.

“What?” You say, but Seokjin can tell that you’re slightly dazed. He stares at you, puzzlement etched into his face before pointing at the dough.

“Do you think this is okay? It looks pretty much done” He repeats and you turn back to the dough, blinking owlishly. Your brain slowly kicks back into gear and your face heats as you nod furiously.

“Oh! Um yes! This is perfect! It just needs to rest for two hours now” You say, hastily letting go of the dough, almost as if it had burned you. Briskly walking to the sink, you wash your hands, silently berating yourself for once again getting distracted by Kim Seokjin.

The next few hours move quickly, you and Seokjin throwing yourselves into creating the char Siu bao to the best of both your abilities, presenting the dish to Mei and the rest of her staff. Thankfully, everyone loves the idea of a speciality dish and you and Seokjin grin at each other, happy that you had some sort of plan to tackle Hunan’s lack of customer base.

The following days passed in a blur. Day five sees both you and Seokjin teaching Mei how to create Hunan’s signature bao. Seokjin and Mei work on the meat filling together, Mei chiming in with her own two cents every now and then on what ingredients would make the dish more authentic and which spices would complement each other better, bringing out the flavours of the pork even more. When she’s done with Seokjin, she works with you learning your dough recipe and some techniques you’d picked up during your three years on how to create the perfect dough texture every single time.

Days six and seven you have no time to speak to Seokjin; you both take turns, one trying to promote the new bao on the street, drawing in customers while the other helps in the kitchen. By the end of both days, you’re both completely exhausted and as soon as you get to your hotel rooms, you crash. Luckily, by the end of the week, you’re back in the academy in your own studio apartment, ready to sleep for an entire week after having accomplished your challenge. You were completely exhausted, from your exams, which you had not managed to recover from and from the consecutive week-long excursion to Hunan, in order to gain some restaurant experience.

“Hey ____, your burner is too high. We’re supposed to slow cook the meat,” Seokjin says from a counter diagonally to yours. You hear everyone take in a deep breath, the head chef at the front of the classroom suddenly sitting straight. You know exactly why the class responded the way they did; they were most likely expecting you to blow up and yell at Seokjin to mind his own business, the head chef even getting ready to break up the impending fight.

“Oh? You’re right. Thanks, Jin,” you simply say, turning your burner down before turning back to your task of chopping up the vegetables. Everyone stares in disbelief at your casual acceptance of Seokjin’s advice. The head chef is completely still, mouth dropped at the unexpected occurrence. In all three years of teaching both you and Seokjin, you had never once been civil. The class slowly came to life, some students eagerly whispering to one another, undoubtedly gossiping while others just stared nervously at both you and Seokjin, wondering what the hell had happened.

The rest of the class follows without a hitch, and as usual, you and Seokjin scored the top marks in the class, although Seokjin scores slightly higher than you. Surprisingly, you’re not filled with a burning all-consuming rage to beat him. It had been a month since your trip to Hunan and unsurprisingly you and Seokjin were on much friendlier terms; although no one was as happy as your little friendship group, who were just glad that you could all hang out without you and Seokjin being at each other’s throats. Or, well, more you being at Seokjin’s throat. Sure, the two of you still argued and still had your little competition to see who was the better chef, but everyone could tell that there was no real heat behind the little spats anymore. Now, whenever Seokjin teased or taunted you, you were filled with annoyance and exasperation more than hate.

Seokjin catches your eye as he’s leaving the room; he pauses briefly before grinning, winking and then waving as he leaves. You awkwardly wave back at him before you continue gathering your things. Everyone else, however, just stands in complete astonishment as they watch the little interaction between the two of you. You slowly wander down the long corridor, face slightly scrunched as people stare at you, whispering between themselves. You strain your ears slightly, trying to listen to the hushed conversations.

“Do you think they’re together?”

“Oh my god, Seokjin totally winked at her and she didn’t even yell at him! She just smiled and waved back!”

“Have you noticed that they actually… like, get along now?”

“Yes! They don’t fight anymore, it’s so weird. I never thought I’d see the day”

“It’s really kind of weird… like it’s just weird to see them getting along”

“Really? I always thought they’d end up together”

“WHAT?”

“What? You can’t hate someone that much without wanting to fuck. They always say there’s a thin line between love and hate”

“You’re right! And oh my god, weren’t they paired up for the restaurant challenge? And they stayed in a hotel away from campus!”

“Oh yeah they totally hate fucked and now are in love with each other”

“Ugh, she’s so lucky!”

“Wah! I could totally see that! Even when they argue now it’s like flirting more than an actual argument”

“Agreed! They’re totally secretly dating.”

Throughout your entire eavesdropping session, your face slowly grows warmer and warmer until your ears are hot red. For most of it, you can ignore them. They’re just baseless rumours running through students who had nothing better to do with their time. However, the last few have you suddenly stopping and instantly turning on your heel, stalking towards the two girls who had now moved on from speculating that you and Seokjin were both secret lovers to when it began. They watch you approach them, immediately shutting up as their eyes widen in slight fear, exchanging a nervous glance between each other.

“No! That would never happen! How could you even think of such a thing? M-M-Me and him? Not in this world! Not in any alternate world either! So, what if we get along now? Nothing wrong with it… right? RIGHT! Yes, we just get along. But that would never happen. No, no it wouldn’t! It couldn’t! He likes cooking meat and I like cooking sweet things! See, complete opposites. It would never happen!” You burst, arms flailing around before stomping your foot down. You cross your arms and nod as if you’d made the world’s most flawless argument.

Everyone stares in confusion, murmurs of ‘what is she talking about’ and ‘did you even understand her’ roaming around the corridor. You grow slightly sheepish as even more eyes stare at you. You quickly pull your bag closer to you before briskly walking - really you were practically running - down the corridor. The students all stared at your back, wondering if your rivalry with Seokjin had finally caused you to lose the plot and go insane.

“That was weird right?”

“Do you think she was listening to us?”

“I mean, even if she was… I still have no idea what she was talking about.

“Bro… she didn’t even make any sense”

“God, I can’t believe they thought Seokjin and I would be secretly dating… it’s completely insane! We’re rivals… nothing more! Although we are becoming friends I guess,” You begrudgingly admit to yourself as you slowly open your apartment door. You place your bag down by the door before taking your shoes off and slipping into your house slippers.

“There’s no way. I don’t even like him like that… right?” You speak out loud, more to yourself than anything. But even you have to admit that it sounded more like you were trying to convince yourself than anything. Admittedly, you’re still somewhat confused by your entire relationship - or lack thereof - with Seokjin. It was strange to go from hating him to suddenly being somewhat friendly with him. Although, you have to admit that you had always been moderately confused by Seokjin. Even when you had hated him, you had somewhat admired him reluctantly. A small part of you even acknowledges that the admiration was most likely why you needed him to admit you were a good enough chef. Granted, he now had admitted he thought you were a good chef, hell he’d even said he considered you on his level. Perhaps that was why you were suddenly flustered by him.

Yes. Of course! That had to be it!

Hours later, you were still plagued by thoughts of Seokjin. You lay in bed, mindlessly scrolling through twitter, barely reading the tweets. Your eyes flicked to the top of your phone, groaning when you realised it was nearing two am. You jostled in bed, turning onto your side as you continued scrolling aimlessly, mind still preoccupied on Seokjin. Ten minutes later however you stumbled on a video of two teens snorting crushed ramen. You shook your head, wondering just where people got the idea for this stuff. However, at that very minute, your stomach began growling and suddenly you were craving something sweet.

You pulled yourself out of bed, trudging through your bedroom and into the kitchen. You quickly opened the cabinets, realising you had absolutely no snacks before checking your fridge, hopeful that maybe you had something left over from one of your earlier experiments. However, you had no such luck. Your stomach growled again and you shut your fridge with a groan. You swiftly threw on your jacket, slipping into your trainers before grabbing your keys and wallet, heading out to the twenty-four-hour convenience store next to campus.

The spring night air is crisp and the cool breeze chills your bones slightly, causing you to pull your jacket closer to your body. You wander through the well-lit streets, thoughts once again wandering to Seokjin and your bizarre friendship with him. No matter how much you think about it, you simply can’t comprehend him nor the sudden confusion that clouds your mind whenever it comes to him. Briefly, you wonder if you’ll ever be able to figure it out. It had been hours and you couldn’t come to a single, plausible solution that made sense to you.

Soon you arrive at the convenience store, however, just as you’re about to go in, someone steps out. And of course, that person is none other than the man who had been plaguing your thoughts for most of the day. You blink owlishly, staring at the tall man in front of you. He’s dressed in a loose white t-shirt and grey sweatpants, a long blank jacket draped over him. Your gaze briefly snaps to the plastic bag he’s holding, your face scrunching up before you burst into laughter at the contents of his bag.

“Yah! What the hell are you laughing at?” Seokjin says in indignation, in the same loud voice he usually speaks in whenever Jungkook insults him.

“Why do you have instant ramen?! Oh my god, this is priceless” You cackle, eyes practically tearing up and doubling over as you point at his bag. Seokjin’s ears immediately turn red and he swiftly hides the bag behind him, tutting at you.

“What’s wrong with instant ramen? I’m allowed to buy it!” Seokjin grumbles but his words only cause you to laugh harder.

“Because you’re a top-rated chef, that’s why! Oh my god, I cannot believe you’re buying instant ramen at 2am…” You gasp out, trying to catch your breath from your sudden fit of laughter. Seokjin glowers at you, grumbling to himself before shoving his hands in his pocket, the plastic bag hanging from his wrist.

“Shut up… I was hungry and I didn’t have anything that I could make quickly” Seokjin reasons, but you only grinned brightly at him, as if you had been handed the best prize in the world.

“There, there. I’m only joking” You say and Seokjin nods curtly, his ears still red.

“So why are you here?” He asks, cocking his head to the side.

“I was craving something sweet cause I was hungry… but I think I could do with some ramen too. Come on, let me go buy a packet and I’ll make it for you” You say, grabbing his jacket sleeve without thinking before dragging him back into the store. Seokjin allows you to pull him toward the ramen isle and you soon pick your favourite ramen off the shelf as well as some eggs before paying for it. You and Seokjin walk outside toward the little ramen area.

“Why are you making it for me?” Seokjin asks curiously as he hands you his ramen packet, watching the way you open it, placing the noodles in the tin foil before adding the sachet and hot water.

“Jungkook specialises in ramen remember? His guilty pleasure is instant ramen. But you can’t tell anyone that! He’ll lose his credibility as a ramen master! Anyway, he’s taught me a thing or two about perfecting instant ramen” You explain Seokjin laughing mischievously.

“Oh, that’s some good blackmail material for when he calls me old” Seokjin says and you turn to him, eyes wide before shaking your head furiously.

“No! Absolutely not! I’m the only one who knows, so if you bring it up he’ll definitely know it was me that told you,” You quickly retaliate, your eyes wild at the thought of what Jungkook would do if his little secret got out.

“It’s really not that bad-” Seokjin starts, but you cut him off.

“No! Promise me you won’t say anything!” You quickly shout and Seokjin immediately nods, deflating slightly.

“God! Fine! I won’t say anything. I promise” Seokjin calls out and you smile, nodding before turning to the ramen.

“Oh, nice! It's done! Come eat” You call, grabbing the two tinfoil containers before sitting on one of the wooden benches. Seokjin sits opposite you; you offer him the disposable wooden chopsticks but he shakes his head, pulling out his own from his jacket.

“Why the hell do you just carry chopsticks in your jacket?” You ask, blowing on your ramen before slurping on them.

“You never know when you need them! Like now, see. Now I’m not wasting disposable chopsticks like some people,” He says pointedly causing you to roll your eyes.

"Okay yeah, whatever just eat your damn ramen" You retort, Seokjin laughing before picking some noodles between his chopstick, blowing and placing them in his mouth.

“How is it?” You asked curiously.

“Hmm. It’s good” Seokjin replies as he slurps some more. You grin, tucking into your own container. The two of you sit in silence for a couple moments, unsure of what to say. You haven't really been alone with him since a month ago when you'd both been paired up for the restaurant challenge.

"So," You say, uncomfortable with the tense silence between the two of you. You had foolishly offered to cook him ramen in a spur of the moment decision but you had completely forgotten that you'd have to sit and eat with him. Of course, you had sat and eaten with him when you’d visited all those restaurants at Hunan, but at least then you could talk about the menu and food. What were you supposed to do now? Talk about the history of ramen?

"Why did you become a chef?" Seokjin asked, breaking the silence. He looks at you curiously, slurping some more ramen into his mouth.

"That's... kind of a personal question don't you think?" You answer back, Seokjin snorting slightly before pointing his chopsticks towards you.

"I thought we were friends" comes Seokjin's direct reply.

"I mean... I wouldn't go that far but okay" You respond, looking away, his words startling you. Were you friends? Sure, you weren't exactly enemies anymore, but wasn't friends pushing it? If it were up to you, you'd call it casual acquaintances or something similar.

"Go on then, why did you become a chef?" Seokjin repeats. You let out a little sigh before placing your chopsticks down. You glance up at the sky, the city lights drown out most of the sky, but there are still a few stars that lit up the night sky.

"My parents used to run a small cake shop in our town, so I basically just grew up baking and making desserts. I learnt a lot from mom and grandpa and eventually just got better than them. I think the first time I baked one of grandpa's recipes was around the age of five. Mom helped obviously, but grandpa loved it so much. He'd started baking for grandma and he loved that I picked up the skill and well, that's why I started baking" You say, a small wistful smile on your face as you remember your grandfather's smile when you'd presented the cake to him.

"That doesn't explain why you became a chef though. A pâtissier yeah, but not why you joined Big Hit. You don’t have to have studied professionally to run a family-run cake shop" Seokjin points out and you turn back to him, cocking your head to the side.

"That was because by the time it got to applying for universities, mom and grandpa knew there was nothing more they could teach me. They both had been saving up to send me here because they thought my talents were wasted in their little bakery and well, after all the years of saving, I didn't have the heart to tell them no and so here I am, three years later. It was probably the best decision of my life" You say, a wistful smile on your face as you remembered their kindness.

"So, you decided on a whim then?" He clarifies and you shrug.

"I guess so. I never really thought about anything other than baking in grandpa's bakery but they both knew there were bigger things out there than a small cake shop in Busan" You say Seokjin nodding.

"That's fair enough, I just thought that maybe it would have been a big dream of yours of something. I always wondered why you were so hell-bent on always being the top," Seokjin comments offhandedly and you sneer slightly at him.

"Grandpa and mom spent a lot of time and money on my tuition here. I can't exactly disappoint them by failing, now can I... especially now after I've come so far" You point out, Seokjin nodding in accord.

"Still doesn't explain why you wanted to beat me so bad. You didn't have to fail but that didn't mean you had to try so hard to be first either" Seokjin points out, causing you to scowl at him again before your face turns passive once again.

"No, you’re right. A lot of that was to do with how much you annoyed me," You deadpan, Seokjin snickering, causing you to roll your eyes.

"Okay, enough about me. Why did you become a chef?" You ask, curious to find out Seokjin's reasons for becoming a chef.

"It's not as meaningful as yours. I did it more as an act of defiance than anything" Seokjin replies, both of you long since finished with your ramen. You quirk an eyebrow, waiting for him to delve deeper into his explanation.

"Well my dad wanted to go into the family business, but I really didn't want to. This was... let's say a compromise" Seokjin responds.

"Okay yes, because that isn't cryptic or anything... come on! I told you my reasons" You whine slightly, and Seokjin chuckles.

"Stop pouting, I can't say no to you when you do that," Seokjin says all of a sudden and you immediately jerk, face flushing as you process his words.

"W-What? Don't just say things like that!" You scream, pointing at him accusingly. Really, what was his problem? What was he so flirty for?

"But if I didn't then I wouldn't be being true to myself. But anyway, if you really want to know... my dad's a CEO, he owns a chain of restaurants and wanted me to take over even though I didn't want to. I wanted to be an actor but he said no to that. My other hobby was cooking considering I’d been in professional kitchens since I could walk, so I said I'd take over if he let me attend Big Hit Academy. He agreed" Seokjin elaborates but you simply scrunch your eyebrows.

"Where's the compromise in that? Doesn’t he get what he wants in the end anyway?" You refuted but Seokjin just sends you a sly glance before leaning in.

"See, what he doesn't know is that I'll only be taking over one restaurant, which I won't manage but be the head chef of" Seokjin loudly whispers, his tone conspiratorial.

"Won't that piss him off? But also, who will run the restaurants then?" You ask, curious about Seokjin's future plan. Seokjin's face contorts with pride as he grins at you.

"It won't matter because I'll be in charge anyway so he won't have a say in it. But also, I'll just hire a professional CEO or something, someone who could actually manage the restaurants. To be honest, as graduation is nearing, I was wondering if I could just hire Namjoonie to do it. No one is as good a manager as him, plus it's all boring like numbers and graphs and he likes that stuff, right?" Seokjin asks, staring at you earnestly. You giggle slightly, imagining Namjoon's face if Seokjin offered him the job before nodding enthusiastically.

"Yeah, I think he'd really love that to be honest," You replied, smiling softly at Seokjin, causing him to respond with his own smile, the wells in his cheeks at the corner of his lips deepening. It's adorable and only further draws attention to his already perfect lips. How had you not noticed them before?

"Damn, it's almost three am. Do you want to head back? I'll walk you home" Seokjin offers as he gathers up your empty foil containers, plopping them in the bin before wiping down his chopsticks, placing them back in his pocket.

"Oh, you really don't have to! It's not a long walk from here anyway" You quickly say, trying to refuse his offer. Seokjin simply sends you a look that has you sighing, immediately knowing that there was no way he'd be letting you off that easily.

"Come on, I can’t let you walk alone at this time of the night," Seokjin says and you quickly follow him, leading the way.

The two of you spend the short walk speaking more about your life out of the academy. You tell Seokjin about running the little cake shop with your mother and grandfather, your father spending most of his time in the city with his office job. You don't even stop and think about opening up to him as it all comes naturally to you. You'd never really noticed how easy it was to talk to Seokjin, not that you'd really had any reason to beforehand considering your - now that you thought about it - petty rivalry. You tell him about how you'd bake a special cake for the bakery once a week that would have people bustling in for your desserts. You even tell him about how you and your grandfather bake a special cake for your mother on her birthday. In turn, Seokjin tells you more about his home life. His father, as loving and doting as he was, would usually be too busy running the business, leaving his mother to look after both his brother and himself.

"If I was being completely honest... the reason I started cooking wasn’t that I grew up around kitchens. Sure, it interested me… seeing how basic ingredients turn into something else. But, I started because my mother is an awful cook and my brother is no better. I got tired of eating inedible food and took over the cooking in the house. And well, it turned out that I was really good at it. Sometimes I wonder if I should stop and just take over the family business like dad wants but then I remember my mother's smile every time I would cook her something, and I remember why I started and how much I love it, and it just motivates me to keep going" Seokjin says, a wistful look on his face as the two of you near your apartment complex. Your head snaps to him in slight awe of his sudden confession.

"Wow... I had no idea you thought about quitting or giving up" You mutter, Seokjin looking down at you with a rueful smile.

"Does it not get too much for you sometimes? The pressure...? Everyone expects you to always be at the top or for you to come up with amazing dishes time after time. Sometimes I forget how much I love cooking and the pressure just builds up but I just remember mom and her smile and everything gets better" Seokjin states, his tone light again, a genuine smile returning to his face. Your fingers twitch slightly, wanting to reach out and grasp his hand to offer him some semblance of comfort. But you can't do that. You may be somewhat friends, but your relationship was nowhere near that level of intimacy. So, you settle for the next best thing.

"If it makes you feel better, I'm glad you didn't quit. I'd miss our rivalry... and you do make me a better chef" You admit grudgingly, Seokjin raises an eyebrow at your statement, an amused smirk on his face. You immediately flush, "B-Besides, winning by default isn't really winning" You stammer, trying to explain yourself but you and Seokjin both know you're lying.

"I'm glad I stayed. You make me a better chef too" Seokjin says with a wink. Your face heats further and you try to respond, but instead, you simply stutter, unable to think of a response.

"Oh look! We're here! Wow, it's really late. I'll see you at the academy!" You suddenly blurt, your words rushed as you try and get away from him. Seokjin instantly reaches out and grabs your hand, pulling you back.

"Hey! We've got a break now, I won't see you for a week or something. Besides, that's not a proper goodbye" Seokjin points out and you scowl despite the prominent blush on your face.

"What do you... mean?" You start before trailing off, watching as Seokjin bends over to the rose bushes planted at the bottom of your complex. He plucks one off of the bush, it's not fully bloomed yet, only a few petals unfurling from the bud, before handing it to you.

"Goodnight ____," Seokjin says with an over-exaggerated bow. You roll your eyes at his antics before accepting the flower, breathing in the subtle scent of the rose. Seokjin stands straight again and then winks at you before turning around and walking away. You roll your eyes at him again before you too turn around and enter your building.

A couple moments later and you're back in your small studio apartment. You wander to the kitchen, pulling out a vase from the cabinet before filling it with water. Carrying the vase, you place it in the living room on your coffee table before placing the rose in it. The vase is slightly too big for the single flower, but it still looks pretty nonetheless. You glance at the rose one last time before returning to bed, a small smile on your face.

a/n: uwu what did you think?? please let me know!!

▷ Part II | Masterlist

[toxicpineapple]

Please give me your amami essay, I'd like to know the TEA! I was also gonna ask for the mastermind essay, but honestly I REALLY wanna hear your thoughts on his characterization (and your thoughts on his shitty fanon characterization)

HOOO BOY OKAY. this is good, it gives me an excuse to procrastinate on reading that new amasai fic on the latest feed. (note that i REALLY WANT TO READ IT, i’m just anticipating commenting and tbh the spoons,,, i lack them. it’s okay though i’ll get over it.)

so!!! let’s start with general attitude, because i think that amami’s is really unique. he’s a subversive character. in general i feel like that was the biggest goal with his character design and personality combination-- he looks like a total playboy, kaede even comments as much moooore than once. but he’s the absolute opposite. i’ll rant about that in a bit. i’ve already gone off on a tangent and i said i was gonna talk about attitude.

amami is laid back, but not to the point of complacency. y’know what i mean? like, he’s relaxed, but he’s on his guard, too. his speaking style is pretty casual (typically he’ll greet people with a “hey,” whenever he’s slightly uncomfortable he’ll probably say “haha”... this isn’t necessarily a canon thing but i like it when people have him talking in sentence fragments. ex. “forgot to grab my jacket” or “wanted to get a snack” sort of thing) and that’s just,,, the type of person he is. he’s casual. it’s remarkable considering how wealthy amami is-- though bear in mind, he still IS wealthy, so there are bound to be things he doesn’t understand about people-- that he can be so normal and like, down to earth, in a way. when people mess around with him he’ll probably just laugh it off.

to cite a fic i read once that had REALLY phenomenal characterisation, imo, ouma ends up dumping a bucket of water on amami’s head (on accident; there are some semantics and i won’t get into it but again the fic is really good and funny and you should totally read it) and amami just squeezes out his shirt and makes a couple cracks before walking away. (sorry this isn’t meant to be a “dumping love on fics” post but GOD that fic is hysterical.) he’s an enabler too, at least i think so-- remember that anthology chapter where kaede, shuichi, and kaito are trying to catch ouma and kaito sets an “amami trap” to stop him? all ouma has to do is flutter his eyelashes and go “pleeeaaase let me go amam~niichan!” and then he just. he does. what a fucking doormat i can’t believe him.

he’s like that though. i feel like big brother stuff is kind of his weakness. (and not in a kinky way alright i will destroy you. he might make a joke about having a sister complex in one of his ftes but he DOESNT that joke was just tasteless COME ON RANTARO WHFKLDSJFK) which brings me to his whole older brother thing, because like,,, YEAH. guy grew up with twelve younger sisters!!! and he remarked in his ftes with shuichi that they’re mostly step sisters, which means he just.... has a nurturing personality. i mean amami is somewhat conservative (if you try to come on to him during salmon mode you will be brutally rebuffed; amami tells u to keep your horny thoughts to yourself, though you shouldn’t be ashamed of having them) so i imagine he’s not the biggest fan of his father’s tendencies-- not that i don’t NECESSARILY interpret his father’s behaviour as him sleeping around.... it’s possible he just likes children and deliberately marries women who already have kids so he can take them... i mean it’s exceedingly decent to keep considering ur step children to be your children after a divorce so i have a hard time reconciling this common image of rantaro’s dad as some kind of player figure with the impression i got of him in my head but that’s just my daddy issues coming into play again so ignore me-- and yet he still considers all his sisters to be his sisters.

not to mention he feels a great deal of like, responsibility, when it comes to taking care of them. i find it impossible to believe that all the losses were his fault. you could ARGUE that the one he tells you about with his younger sister was to be blamed on him? but i mean, amami is a child. he didn’t even know his sister was following him out. sure he blames himself for it but there’s no real good way to blame him just considering that,,, he’s a kid. and he was so young-- he was obviously so young-- when it happened. so like, not to be all Good and Bad on you, but i do feel that amami is fundamentally a good reason. and you SEE that too, in the killing game. i’m certain he was on the fence about trusting that note he woke up with. would you trust it? he had no memory whatsoever of writing it, all he had were the words “ultimate hunt” and a map of the school to guide his way. i imagine he wasn’t even sure if he should do what the note said. but then ryoma started talking about sacrificing himself for everyone else, and rantaro probably thought, “well... if i have a way to get us out of here, even if it doesn’t work, i can’t just let ryoma sacrifice himself without having tried.”

rantaro is self-reliant too, i think. in the talent development plan mukuro remarks that she noticed he was injured a good number of times, but never said anything about it because she felt like he was trying to keep it under wraps. (note: good idea for an amami and mukuro friendship fic. must write. someone remind me.) i think amami kind of feels isolated from his classmates? either because he has these perceived notions of like, independence and whatever, not burdening anybody else with his problems (honestly not to go chabashira on main but wtf men ask for help c’mon i promise if you find a person who’s worth being in ur life they won’t treat you like shit for feeling ur feelings) or just because he’s not around a lot. i think amami is the type of person to invalidate his own problems a lot, or at least downplay them to others. he blames himself for all his sisters going missing, took the responsibility to find them all. you know the blow that’s going to be to his education? traveling around the world looking for twelve different people? and he plans to keep doing that!!! forever!!! ugh ;-; poor babey. but anyway i feel like he doesn’t want to tell anybody about his problems because he feels like it’s his thing to deal with.

i also believe that rantaro is a bit prideful. i mean, anyone can be prideful under the correct circumstances, and in fact there is a great deal of pride that simply isn’t addressed by the fandom in analysing characters and that makes me really sad because pride is such a SEXY character flaw but i’ll leave that alone for now. he hates being told to give up on what he’s doing. i mean everyone in his life has been telling him to stop looking for his sisters. that’s got to suck, but also, DAMN look at what his reaction was. this utter refusal to open up to anybody. shuichi’s ftes with him are spent pretty much just trying to get amami to stop squirreling around and actually TALK to him. amami asks shuichi at one point if he has any siblings and when the response is negative, amami immediately assumes that shuichi wouldn’t understand, would tell him to quit. just like everyone else.

(i mean, even with kiyo and mukuro, whose circumstances mirror his almost painfully at least in willingness to sacrifice stuff for their siblings, he doesn’t tell them what he’s doing, just that he’s doing it for his sister-- singular-- and that he would do anything for her. kiyo and mukuro!! out of ANYBODY, they would understand. in tdp they DO talk about it-- kiyo encourages him to keep searching-- as his friend...... fuck amaguji is such a good ship even if the implications of kiyo saying he wants to meet rantaro’s sister after he finds her bc she must be suuuuch a good person if he’s doing all this for her are uhhh not great-- and mukuro immediately understands when he says it’s to do with his younger sister. like, full stop. she just goes “okay” and goes serious. all at once. damn rantaro, mukuro, and kiyo really do be a power trio huh. i need to write more fic about them i miss them.)

this is more into baseless conjecture so take this as you will, but i also think rantaro is kind of,,, easily distracted lmao. he mentions helping out a village with a disease-- been a while since i’ve seen his ftes, sorry for any inconsistencies-- among other shit and like... bro what are you DOING. you have sisters to find. and he can’t be getting injured all the time, getting wrapped up with gang violence and all that, looking for people who were lost traveling. i mean sure, you could say they went all over the world and got wrapped up in all sorts of mess, but more likely they stayed in roughly the same area, waiting for him to come back. and also? i have a hard time believing his sisters were lost in these remote forest places people always put them. COME ON, who the fuck goes to some village for a vacation? a RICH person no less. i’m on another tangent. sorry. but yeah, i love the people who write rantaro as an absolute airhead. i headcanon that he has no way of judging the passing of time and thus is the absolute worst in the bathroom bc he sits there for twenty minutes thinking about the universe and then walks out like “:) ok ready to go” like wtf are you even doing there stupid akljdf anyway.

i think rantaro is softhearted and thoughtful. in his ftes with kaede he demonstrates an ability to look past what people show at surface level-- you can ask him about miu, kiibo, or kiyo and he’ll give u Good Fucking Insight(tm)-- and analyse their intentions more closely. and i mean this is just from a couple day’s interaction. he’s down to earth for sure, understanding when people are intimidated but also caring and observant. (his “talk about a first impression” line is so fuckaindgf.... good for his characterisation. i love romantic amamatsu but he so clearly takes an older brother role in those ftes, he’s really such a sweetheart,,,, hnadhfkj ;w;) rantaro is just. he’s patient with people. and selfless and kind. idk it’s all the good stuff. warm smiles and indulgence. all the way. probably lets kokichi steal his lunch.

THAT BEING SAID: i think rantaro also has a very serious streak. he doesn’t show it a lot but there are moments. he’s self-sacrificing-- i mean, obviously. he was the ultimate survivor, after all. some people hc that he got there by killing, or maybe everyone else in his game died but one person, but bro that doesn’t make any sense???? no. what happened was there were probably like three people left, and monokuma was like “one has to be sacrificed” and rantaro thought, welp. it’ll be me then. and i wouldn’t say the choice would be immediate because rantaro DOES has self preservation instincts-- he’s only human-- but i don’t think he’d have let anybody else make that decision. i think ultimately he would try to protect other people.

he can be scarily confrontational too. i do believe he’d usually only do it in the defense of others-- like, his base instinct is to protect. i read a fic once (oumami, unfortunately) where ouma was committing crimes and went to hide behind rantaro and rantaro instinctively moved to protect him, and that’s.... that’s good characterisation. point one to the oumami stans, point zero to me. motherfucker. (love u oumami stans, it’s just not my thing.) i really like it in fics when he’s stern, lecturing people for hurting other people, but i also think rantaro is too understanding to be truly unforgiving. like if two people got into an argument and one came out of it more hurt than the other, i don’t believe that amami would be unsympathetic to the less hurt one. i think he’s mature enough to take a look at the situation and go, well, okay.

i think he’d be TERRIFYING when angry. he’s patient, y’know? so it takes a lot to get him to that point. he’s really, ah, accommodating of people. puts up with a lot of bs kind of thing. but i imagine the best way to get him to snap is by hurting someone he cares about. and at that point: ur fucked. i’ve never written it before because i’m terrified of what i’d do with that kind of power but.... imagine the shuichi whump. holy god.

i’m NOT here to talk about shuichi whump (though i’m down to do that any time of day believe me) so i’m gonna like. shhhhiiiiiiffft.

i project on characters a lot so at this point it’s difficult to distinguish if some of my characterisation things are like, actually characterisation things? or just me venting, so like, take nothing i say as canon, but also,,, akdsjf we love a man who bottles up his emotions.

because rantaro just doesn’t have the TIME to be crying all over the place. he was probably a total wreck when he lost his first sister. and his second. and maybe even his third. but then he started to gather his composure, more and more. because if there’s anything that rantaro has in excess, it’s composure. the more losses he suffers the more of a shield he builds up. and the self hatred and the guilt and the blame and the responsibility are piling up and up and up, but god he hates it when other people see him sad, because he needs to be the strong one, he can’t just pile that up on other people. that’s not their weight to carry, and besides, he’s the older brother, he should be able to deal with his own problems. he’d just be burdening the people he cares about by letting them see his demons.

and then he doesn’t have any coping mechanisms because he never lets himself feel enough to cope, and when people get close enough to actually CARE about him, when people notice he’s upset or struggling and offer him help, he doesn’t know how to deal with it-- and god he hates lashing out at people but it’s so much easier to deal with the consequences of being mean than the consequences of breaking down. only conflict is scary when he’s one of the causes so he needs time to recover, and well, what better way to do that than to get on a plane or a boat and go look for his sisters? after all he’s wasting time whenever he’s just sitting around, they’re still out there and he needs to find them, so might as well just keep pushing himself to the limits, because it’s his fault they’re lost anyway...

something mukuro said to rantaro in the talent development plan stuck in my brain. like, initially it’s just a funny and cute interaction (rantaro even blushes and a blushing rantaro is a GOOD FUCKING RANTARO) but when i thought about it more i was like.... huh. hm. angst ideas. mukuro makes a joke about rantaro going over to her stand at the festival to flirt with her-- i think that’s the context, i know it’s play-boy related-- and rantaro assures her (as he always does) that he’s not that kind of guy, and mukuro agrees, saying she was just pulling his leg and that he seems like the kind of person who gets dumped because he doesn’t show his emotions enough. rantaro laughs, blushes, and says “haha, not touching that one,” and akdjfnnnnnn god mukuro you’re so blunt i love you fkdjf but wow. i usually have rantaro as not having dated anyone, just because i feel like he kind of hyperfocuses on finding his sisters? and given that he’s like sixteen (seventeen at the MOST) there’s not much of a timeline for when his sisters got lost. in my fic search i had to cram all the losses into a four-year period and damn that was rough. anyway i just don’t think he’d really prioritise romance. but that reaction implies that that’s EXACTLY his experience with romance, which makes a bit of sense because mukuro is ridiculously sharp, and also it’s,, it’s just sad idk poor rantaro. getting dumped because he’s like the emotional equivalent of a doorknob when it comes to his own feelings.

i do think rantaro is a bit cowardly. not in the sense that he’d shy away from danger-- i think he’d RUSH INTO IT HEAD FIRST because he’s a man or whatever, i know he respects women but he does seem to hold some of those very stereotypically masculine ideals of constantly protecting those around him, which is like.... ok toxic masculinity mcgee can u and kaito stop throwing hands every time u see each other ty-- but more in the sense that he avoids,,, confrontation. emotional confrontation just ain’t his thing. and i think he’d rather run away from it or otherwise find some way of ignoring it than try to address his problems.

he would, with that in mind, probably try to associate with people who don’t push the matter. kiyo and mukuro, for example. they both have a fair amount of baggage themselves so they’d probably be respectful. ryoma is lowkey enough that he just, he wouldn’t bring that shit up, that’s uncool. i also think rantaro would get along REALLY WELL with kaito, and i actually don’t think kaito would pull his sidekick stuff with him? just because in a way they’re kind of kindred spirits, and i think kaito would see an ally in rantaro before seeing someone to try to nurture, so they’d probably have some kind of a truce like, if you don’t force me to be vulnerable, i won’t force you. one of the reasons why i love amamota so much is because it involves the two of them growing to care about each other beyond that sort of unhealthy camaraderie and breaking down each other’s barriers and i just..... hhnnfhhdkfj they could be so good for each other but nobody wants to talk about thatjslfkj

you weren’t asking for my amamota mess lmao sorry anon i get sidetracked SO easily. but yeah, amami gravitates towards people who wouldn’t try to get him to be more honest with himself. and i honestly think the v3 cast would be pretty good about that overall, except for shuichi who is a detective and has a habit of sticking his nose in places it shouldn’t be, but i see no reason to write that out because amami’s ftes already display that beautifully. (well, that’s a lie, i’m absolutely plotting out a slowburn in my head already that involves shuichi stripping down his walls one by one, but forget about all of that rn we don’t need to talk about why amasaimota is my ot3.) also he is softer on childish people like ouma and himiko. ain’t nobody wants to TALK TO ME about how brilliant it would be if rantaro and hiyoko were friends because hiyoko has such problems in that department and he would take one look at her and go hm. i’m adopting her. and he’s so fucking patient and nice and she’d lose the will to make fun of him and i have to do ALL THE GODDAMN WORK AROUND HERE but it’s fine. at least i get to write it.

i’ve described the fundamentals of his characterisation pretty well by now i think. i have some throwaway headcanons, like uhh,,

he’s claustrophobic

plays the guitar and the ukulele

he prefers warm weather and perishes in the cold

high pain tolerance

he’s a Good Cook

doesn’t like sex jokes (they make him uncomfortable)

asexual (i do like a good demisexual hc at all times of day tho)

master of piggyback rides

does his own piercings

impulsive as hell

gets lost easily but can always find his way back

has a lot of scars from travels

hands are rough and calloused (again from travels)

morning person

smells like evergreen (you know i had to, you know i did)

Radiates Heat Like A Fucking Toaster Oven

good hugs

hates tying his shoelaces

likes being the big spoon :)

has a tongue piercing

i said “some throwaway headcanons” but i ended up listing way more than i mean to. i’ll make a separate list of my rantaro headcanons someday and talk about them all in detail but for now, uh, there’s that.

SO AS FOR THE RANTARO CHARACTERISATIONS I ABSOLUTELY DESPISE:

god where to fucking begin. actually i know exactly where to begin. it’s my least favourite one just because, like i said at the very beginning, rantaro is a subversive character. i mean i think he’s kind of a low hanging fruit when it comes to that. there are plenty of other subversive characters in the dr series but rantaro is like that. you expect a flirt and u get,,, a sweetheart. but then some people (usually the ones who ship him with female characters exclusively though i will see it on occasion in an amasai or oumami fic) decide to throw that out the window and make him a total playboy!! and listen, i have no problem with people who are a little flirty. we’re kids!! flirt ur heart out!!! and hey, that’s not what this is about but y’know what? so long as everything is safe, sane, and consensual, then yeah!! exercise your sexual freedom and sleep with whoever you want to!!! i don’t think there’s anything wrong with messing around a little, dating who u wanna and experimenting with ur tastes and preferences. if rantaro WAS a playboy, then there would be nothing wrong with that. i would love him just the same because he’s such a fundamentally GOOD character.

except that.... he’s.......... NOT. you slaughter one of the biggest aspects of his character by throwing away what matters to him and making him some hunky-deep-voice-dreamboat dude meant to sweep kaede/tsumugi/whomsteverthefuck off her feet. rantaro is one of those characters where he’s so blatantly not that kind of person, and it’s like. it’s an affront, almost, to portray him that way? and i do believe you should have the freedom to write what you want, since we’re in that age (aside from romanticised pedophilia and incest; that shit ain’t cute, i say this often but pro-ship DNI) where u should be able to take some liberties, but it’s just. hnnn. it’s so frustrating. rantaro does not know how to smolder! if he DID smolder, he wouldn’t even realise he was doing it. he doesn’t have people lying at his feet, okay? he’s too flaky for that. i wouldn’t say he’s unreliable but he definitely ain’t at school as much as he should be.

another one that i hate: st-stalker? what the fuck? that is not sexy that is creepy and weird?

another another one that i hate: yandere? what the FUCK??? that is not sexy that is glorified ABUSE???? the yandere trope is AWFUL bc you’re taking a controlling relationship and turning it into a fetish. NO. if he limits ur contact with other people, if he follows u everywhere, if he threatens ur loved ones, if he tries to control you, ladies and gents and nonbinaries, he’s not a yandere, he’s an abuser and you need a fucking restraining order. actually, people of ANY gender or sex can perpetuate this behaviour and IT IS NOT CUTE. I DO NOT GIVE A FUCK WHAT BOUNDARIES U SET IN PLACE, IF YOUR FREEDOM IS BEING RESTRICTED THAT IS ABUSE.

hate it when people make rantaro violent. hate it when people make rantaro a murderer. hate it when people make rantaro controlling. hate it when people make rantaro overtly sexual. some kind of sultry deep voice dominant kind of figure. dude, what the fuck? i don’t,, want to make any public comments about sex positions because i think that’s kind of Strange to just talk about on a post, but i do think that the way people portray him for their smuts is,,, idk it’s weird. i’m not gonna kinkshame u but like. :eyes:

i will however accept rantaro as a thrillseeker, or a highstrung rich boy, or a total space cadet, or a himbo, or a cryptid. these are all very good interpretations of the Mans. just, like. be wary of making him two dimensional. a good character is multifaceted. if you can take a trait that clashes with all of these and SELL ME ON IT, i will buy it. if u give me good justifications, or even just good writing?? then i will accept it.

the long and the short of it is, anon, he’s my favourite so i think about him a lot. i love writing rantaro. he’s just, he’s a Guy. y’know? He’s A Good Dude, If You’ll Give Him A Shot. :) we don’t get to see very much of him but i think that there’s plenty of material if you overanalyse everything, which, as you probably all know by now,,,, i absolutely do.

thank you for the ask, this was a delight to spend an hour talking about. <3

[korezlee]

Ayo, TW// I talk about weight, body image, body dysmorphia, EATING DISORDERS

Im not gonna tag the SuperMega tag cause it’s a lot and it’s a “downer” lmao

•

•

•

•

WOOOO BOY I’ve been wanting to discuss or talk about this for awhile and I saw a mutual make a post about it so now I feel kind of safe and validated to talk about it too:

Ok so kinda off topic but this goes into what I have been thinking for a long time but IKKKkk ik comments under SuperMega videos when it’s live action mean well and don’t mean anything by it, but it’s always bothered me when people comment about Ryan losing weight.

Like at first it seems very light hearted and nothing too deep. It’s just a nice little “hey look Ryan lost weight! (Because he always brings up how he is self counscious about his body/weight etc.)

I relate to Ryan a lot and obviously many other people do to, I relate in the sense of not always being comfortable in one’s body and having some kind of body dysmorphia.

The thing is though, his weight fluctuations make me kind of concerned and I wonder if others follow behind that as well. Like ik it’s none of my business, I’m just a viewer and I only know as much as they (Matt and ryan) want their audience to see.

But putting two and two together makes me feel kinda icky.

Ik they’re human, and they’re not perfect, but the way they talk about food and eating sometimes makes me like... not want to listen to it them anymore lmao.

Like Ryan talking about not eating all day, (and Matt,) or trying something to lose weight is kind of triggering to me personally, and of course, it’s their YouTube channel, blah blah blah, I can choose to not watch them, but I think I just wanted to shed some light on it either way?? Idek I think it’s good to critique people you follow/look up to whether they want to be or not because their job is being on social media essentially, so I feel I can have a say and have an opinion on the matter.

I tend and have gone through weight flucations over the past... my whole life I guess, haha. Not just a few or several pounds, but I’ve been pretty plentiful in weight range. I wouldn’t say (nor have I been diagnosed with and eating disorder,) but I have relaizes recently that I have/had the tendencies of one.

I think sometimes they don’t realize that while yes talking about and venting about their struggles with food and body image and what not is valid, BUT it’s interesting because it seems like they don’t realize that how they’re talking about it is toxic? I don’t wanna say that because I have an obvious bias towards them, but it’s weird realization when you hear people talk about something and you’re like “do they not realize that’s like not good and they probably shouldn’t be talking about it that way?” But idk if that just my ego talking?

In essence, it just feels like they forget sometimes that while most of their audience are college students, a lot are teenagers too. (Not that college students can’t be affected as well, but they’re not are kids.)

Like... I’ve been watching them since I was 15, and my stupid little 15 year old brain hearing that stuff probably didn’t help with my issues as well too.

I’m not sure how I feel about this. On one hand I wanna be like “I’m being ridiculous and if I don’t like it then I should just stop watching it OR ignore it,” but on the other, I feel as if this goes deeper and is a fundamental flaw in them I suppose that unintentionally inflitrates into their young audience due to the normalization of diet culture and eating habits especially in America.

I don’t know if I have to go into examples of what I’m exactly talking about but I guess I mean this... *here’s a made up and simplified example of what I can recall just from memory*

Ryan: I hate my body

Matt: why you look great you’re not fat Ryan

Ryan: but I feel like I am and need to lose weight

Matt: but you’re not fat

Ryan: yeah but I still feel gross

Matt: but you’re not fat

*talks about not eating all day and then inevitably talks about losing weight in the same breathe, making the connection whether they had wanted to or not that not eating much obviously = weight lost. And then praising it.*

It just feels kinda not fucking good when it’s implied that being fat is gross or not good.

Like I feel bad listening to that shit cause I’ve gained weight back from losing it, and sometimes I think would they think I’m gross for gaining weight ya know?? And I think if a teenager who already probably has low self esteem hears that (or adult, using teenager because more impressionable,) it’s subtly telling their viewer that yes being fat is gross and not eating all day is admirable.

My rebuttable for this is my head are people saying “but Matt and Ryan usually say that they feel like shit and it ISN’T healthy.” Yes, they usually do joke and comment about their habits not being the best. I’m not saying they’re the end all be all role models for young people either, but I just think it’s something to note when they don’t explicitly say it’s bad, but it’s implied that it’s ok and normal.

I don’t necessarily blame SuperMega for not recognizing this or even really seeing a problem with these conversations, I do think it just shows how human and flawed they are and in a way trying to relate to those that have similar problems.

Again, I do know this problem goes wayyyy beyond them, and they are also part of out society where diet culture has been placed onto them and normalized.

Idk if anybody is reading this, but take it with some salt I suppose? Has anyone ever had this problem while watching and browsing their content? It’s something that I always think about but never talk avout because I feel bad for pointing out that Ryan’s weight loss is “bad,” because it’s none of my business. (The connection between that and how they discuss their eating habits and insecurities makes me think they are connected. I don’t want to say that it the CORRECT assumption to make, because I could and probably am wrong hopefully. I don’t want to come off as purely bashing to dude for wanting to look and feel better about himself.)

And if I do recall, I think I remember (I can’t remember if it was them,) saying that commenting on someone’s weight loss isn’t good because you don’t know how it was lost.

(I think I’m thinking of someone else I have no idea.)

Anyways, just trying to always looks at them in different lights instead of just praising them?? Yea lol.

Maybe I’m projecting my insecurities onto fucking YouTubers way too much but I do think that there are other people that would agree with me, but if not please let me know because I would interested to see those that think differently than me.

[danetobelieve]

The Case Of The Invisible Man || Agatha and Winston

When: late september Who: @detective-keen & @danetobelieve Where: WCPD Summary: Winston and Agatha work on a confusing break in together. Warnings: n/a

The smell of cold Luigi’s Pizzas wafted up into Winston’s nose as their slender fingers reached beneath the lenses of their spectacles and rubbed their eyes. Reaching out, Winston collected the mug of semi warm coffee from their desk and watched the triple speed CCTV footage roll by. They were working a homicide case with Agatha. Which was good. Out of so many of their colleagues, Agatha was a safe person to work with. She didn’t have anything to do with the supernatural, not as far as Winston could tell. Not to mention that she  was really good at their job and generally just pretty excellent company. Yawning, Winston grabbed a piece of pizza and was about to bite into it when they spotted something on the screen and paused, squinting at it. “Am I imagining things or does that guy kind of look like our perp?” Winston wasn’t convinced all of a sudden. They were pretty sure that their perp wasn’t blonde. “I think if I have to look at these screens for any longer I might put my face through them.” 

An obnoxiously loud yawn followed Winston’s. The detective grimaced as she pictured her mother frowning about it. Agatha remembered, ever since she was a kid, her mom being hellbent on having her daughter and husband follow some rules of etiquette, and she and her father completely ignoring most of those rules, much to her great displeasure. “Mmmh?” She stretched her arms above her head, glancing at them, then at the screen. “You need new glasses, dude” she had to admit that they kinda looked similar to the perp, but was she really going to miss an opportunity to mess with Winston? She reached over to grab pizza, unpausing the video in the process. Which would be when a particularly ugly dressed person showed up on camera. “Wow Winston, you could have told me you were on the tape,” cackling, she grimaced at the taste of cold pizza. Ugh. Ew. “Or is this what you meant by putting your face through the screen?”

Doing their best to keep a straight face, Winston failed pretty fundamentally. With coffee dribbling out of their nose, Winston had to reach for a tissue. They’d laughed so hard at Agatha’s jest that they had all but ejected the coffee from their nose all over the desk surface. Quickly cleaning up their mess and wiping their face clear of coffee, Winston grinned. “Hey, I had my prescription checked like a year ago and it was fine, I don’t know about you but I don’t make enough to constantly be checking my glasses and making sure they’re perfect.” They were joking, well, not really, they weren’t exactly paid much at all. “Hey, I know that I have a bad sense of fashion, but even I’m not THAT bad.” Winston flicked the speed of the tape up by another notch and watched several people file past the camera, still nothing. They had hours of footage to work through from multiple vantage points, but they’d also been doing this for a while and it was getting tedious. “Had I known that I was going to be judged for my poor decisions in dress sense then I would’ve maybe made more of an effort to look less sloppy, but we can’t all dress as well as you can Nancy Drew.” 

“Dude, nooooo,” Agatha moved away her things to make sure they wouldn’t get coffee-d courtesy of Winston. “I mean, that’s on me for being so hilarious,” she held her palm to her chest, and with a shit-eating grin on her face, she said : “my bad.” Agatha reached for napkins next, and helped them clean up the desk, shaking her head as Winston  spoke of their salary. She couldn’t hold back her grimace as she tried to imagine what this station could be paying them. “Clearly whoever decides your paycheck never saw what happened when Dennis Nedry didn’t get paid enough : people died.” Okay, they were eaten by dinosaurs, but Agatha was pretty sure that any IT worker could hurt a lot with just a computer. She doubted that someone sweet like Winston would ever do that, but she was convinced that if they wanted to, they could. Her eyes were on the video, but her mind was elsewhere. She hated being stuck here staring at a screen, even if it was part of the job. “Why thank you. Just to be clear I was not comparing you to Dennis Nedry, you’re more like Q, or that guy from WatchDogs, what was his name again?” She brushed a wrinkle off her pantsuits and blew a raspberry. “Uuuuuuuuugh. Come on.”

“Hey hey hey, if you’re going to say funny shit then I’m going to shoot coffee out of my nose, I don’t make the rules I just play the game.” Winston couldn’t help their grin as they wiped the dribble of coffee from their nose. “That is definitely on you, definitely your bad.” Winston loved working with Agatha, she was one of the few people in the station who seemed to actually get them and she was good at her job. “It’s fine, I’ve only just started, we’ll see if I still think it’s fine later on, but for now, it’s fine. Luckily I don’t have any evil plans to take dinosaur embryos illegally but you never know, if I find some I might change my mind.”  Pausing for a moment, Winston thought back to their days playing Watchdogs and grinned. “Do you mean Raymond Kenney?” they asked curiously. “I don’t know if I truly have the hair to rival Raymond but I appreciate the comparison. I do like to think of myself as a literal Doctor Who, just general all around genius but that’s a comparison I would happily take.” 

 “You know what’s worse than coffee? Coca Cola. You don’t want to snort that out of your nose, it’s the worst,” she advised. Clearly, this was something she had to learn the hard way, but she was not about to give those juicy details. Agatha cleared her throat and put down the cold slice of pizza. “Speaking of frozen embryos, I think I have some ice cream in the freezer here?” Obviously she was not dumb enough to leave a tub of Ben&Jerry’s in the precinct’s fridge looking like one, and when she came back with the thing in her hand, it was stored in a tomato stained Tupperware marked “Codfish brandade.” Handing a spoon to Winston, she sat down in her chair and slumped a little, getting comfortable. “YES, him. And you know, I’m sure you could get the same hair with a little bit of perseverance,” she smiled as Winston mentioned the Doctor. “Can I please be your companion? They are always nicely dressed. Check. And they work well with them. Check. We get in the Tardis, and arrest this douchebag right as he walks out of the store. Deal?” 

“Coca cola or cocaine?” Winston asked with a grin. Of course they were joking. Winston was not a hardcore party person and they definitely weren’t into drugs. Working in law enforcement meant that it was pretty hard to be into drugs. “I don’t really want to be snorting anything in or out of my nose.” Grinning Winston took a spoon off of Agatha and scooped up as much ice cream as they could, stuffing it directly into their mouth as they watched the footage trawl by before their eyes. “You can definitely be my companion because I’m pretty convinced that most of the time it is the companions that do all of the hard work. Besides you are very well dressed most of the time and you’ve got a good work ethic. I think if anything I’m maybe not the one who is qualified to be a timelord, I haven’t got the whole travelling in time thing down at all. But, I’ll get there.” Winston wished that they could travel in time. There was already a lot that they would change. “So, deal.” They scrolled through the footage, pausing and squinting at the screen. “For real though, does that guy not look a little …” Winston didn’t have a better word for it, “... weird?” The cameras opposite Miriam’s shop might well have picked up on something. 

“I’m gonna pretend I did not hear this,” Agatha jokingly glared at them, but her smile couldn’t stay away for that long. “You… drug… person… you,” yes, linguistics were her passion. “Me neither. Preach. Noses are for smelling pretty flowers and burritos,” she agreed, picking some ice cream from the tupperware as well. Falling silent, Agatha simply listened to Winston as they spoke of Doctor Who. “The Doctor would be nothing without their dear companions, let’s be real,” pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, she grinned as Winston explained that he would eventually manage to time travel. “I’m sure you will. And when you do, we’re paying Amelia Eahart a visit. She was too cool for us all,” her cheerful demeanor vanished, however, the moment they spotted a strange man wandering past Myriam’s shop. “That guy is… well weird, but…” What the fuck was he doing? Either he was drunk, either he was searching for evidence that the place was empty. “... What the hell?”

Giggling, Winston had to admit that they were glad they were getting to work with Agatha on this. They didn’t love all of their colleagues. “... please continue to pretend you didn’t hear anything because of course there is nothing for you to have heard, there’s no way I’d ever do drugs working here, I don’t think that I could deal with the look of disappointment in the Sarge’s eyes.” Grinning once more, Winston’s eyes darted back to the bank of monitors that they were sat in front of. “Nothing at all and I don’t think that I would get very far into this investigation without my own faithful companion.” Winston’s eyes moved to the guy moving past Miriam’s store, he seemed to be peering inside and then a second later he disappeared. Winston blinked a few times and rewound the tape, watching it over and over as the man seemingly vanished. Winston had seen Marley do that before, when the cultists had been a problem. “Surely he can’t have disappeared,” Winston wasn’t sure how much of this Agatha would believe, she wasn’t exactly the most open minded in regards to the supernatural. 

“Oooooh, so you would do drugs if you worked elsewhere, is what you’re saying?” Was she always this nitpicky, or was this something she picked up from interrogating perps? Who knew. She did have a history of being a pain in the ass when she wanted to, either way. “Only a monster could deal with that kind of look,” she agreed. Of course she would agree. Agatha spent a lot of time making sure her case files were perfect, her solved case percentage never too low, and her global appearance spotless. “I don’t know. I’m sure you could be a great addition to the detective team if you wanted to,” and went to the Police academy, which she doubted would be their jam. “Either way I’m glad you work with us pumpkin,” she smiled brightly at them, smooching them on the shoulder. All that wholesomeness was gone however, as she watched the guy appear and vanish again with each rewind. “What the actual fuck.” She checked the timer and frowned. It did not look like it had been cut, but she did not trust that. “Someone tampered with the camera,” she sighed. They were not looking for one guy, but two. “Someone tampered with the camera,” she repeated, in disbelief. Ughhhh, just when things were getting easier. “Anyway, let’s ID that motherfucker, then we can find whoever’s making the camera flick like that.”

“Oh 100%, if it hadn’t always been my dream to fix all the cases that you worked by working out how the technology is implicated in their murder then I would be a drug lord, snorting massive piles of weed and smoking cocaine cigarettes, that’s how it works right? You chew on Meth?” Winston was obviously joking. They were a stickler for the rules and they weren’t about to start doing a multitude of chemicals that could fundamentally alter their perception of reality. At least not willingly. Besides, Agatha didn’t need Winston’s help solving cases. She was very capable. “I- working in the field isn’t something that I’ve ever wanted to do and besides, I’m good with technology, I feel like I can do more from behind the keyboard then behind the wheel of a patrol car or behind the handle of a glock.” Winston wasn’t about to point out that there was literally no way that the footage could’ve been looped or anything like that, it wouldn’t help. Something that they had learned in their time working with the WCPD was that there was some people who were intent and determined to believe that things didn’t exist, even when they clearly did. It was like the opposite of religion. “I mean, maybe someone tampered with the camera but we can definitely run facial recognition on him.” Winston began the process, “hopefully he’s in some databases somewhere.” 

Cackling, Agatha managed to shake her head left and right at Winston’s obvious nonsense. “Alright, we finish this and then we can smoke coke,” although considering what they had just seen, it would probably not be for a little while. She nodded as Winston explained that they did not plan to actually work as a police officer, and that was absolutely fine by her. That life was not meant for a lot of people. “It’s good to know your strengths and what you really want in life,” she gave him a small smile, even though what she was seeing didn’t make her one bit happy. “I hope he is, because we did not find one single fingerprint in there,” which suggested that this fella knew what he was doing. Now only time would tell if he was robbing Ms.Flemming for personal reasons. The facial recognition software could take time however, and it was not long before she started to sing and chant : “Winston, catching the bad guys, Winston, justice for the good guys,” in loop. Clearly, she would never be a rapper, and maybe that was a good thing. 

“Oh Aggie you’re too good to me, I’m going to smoke a whole bottle!” Winston grinned at their tomfoolery, it was good to be able to work casually with someone, refreshing compared to some of the boomers that worked in this station. Not to mention all of the weirdos too. “I mean, it’s possible that he could just be wearing gloves that the cameras aren’t sensitive enough to pick up, you can see that everything here is kind of grainy, I don’t think the resolution is all that good…” Winston wondered what this guy could be. There were a dozen things that could’ve done this. Glamours, charms, magic spells and god knows what else Winston had yet to come across. As the facial recognition search began to tick through, Winston wondered if there was something else going on here. Had Miriam upset someone that she shouldn’t have? Honestly, Winston was more concerned for the person they were trying to catch than Miriam, they were very aware of what she was capable of. “Don’t quit your day job Aggie.” Winston was about to make another hurtful comment when the database pinged. 

“A whole bottle? That’s going to cost us so much,” Agatha gasped, dramatically putting her hand to her chest. “A whole bottle, Winston, you are the most criminal. The criminalest,” she started laughing again. How they managed to get work done despite this, she did not understand, but they did get work done, and it was a lot more fun than having to work with some people. Yes, she did mean the critics. “I mean, we’re lucky we even have footage. What I don’t understand is…” She blew a raspberry, obviously exasperated. “If he vanished like that, then he knew about the camera, and looped it before it could let us see him get in the shop. But why not loop it before he even appears on tape?” And who could mess with an ATMs camera like that? Not a lot of people. Now she was not expecting a lot from the database. “Oh piss off…” She trailed off, having heard the familiar ping. Let us be lucky, she thought to herself. “Huh? Not the guy’s first theft,” she crossed her arms over her chest for a second, uncrossing them to get a better look at the file. This was odd. The database recognized this guy, but it looked like all records of his wrong doings had been erased. “Oh, fuck me,” she hit her desk with her palm, and took a deep, long breath. “Fuck,” she whispered. Well now, her best bet was to call the station who was the first to arrest that guy.

Grinning gently, Winston chuckled gently and turned back to their work. They couldn’t keep contributing to this joke and getting work done because if they did then they would be here all night. “Maybe you’re right, maybe only half a bottle.” Adjusting their glasses a little, Winston blinked a few times and tried to think of a way that could be explainable in Agatha’s head. They weren’t about to try and suggest the supernatural to her now. That wouldn’t help, but it might be worth letting Miriam or someone else in the know … well know that this wasn’t completely mundane. “I guess it could just be a glitch, that sometimes happens with old hardware that has been in place for too long, it starts a feedback loop where it draws previous data into the footage, but I wouldn’t have thought that this ATM camera would struggle from that.” Scratching their chin thoughtfully, Winston sighed. “If they knew about all of this and they did all of this, and that is a very very very big IF, then it just means that they want us to be seeing this and they want us to know about this, which doesn’t seem to make any sense either. This was a dead end with Agatha here. Winston wasn’t sure how they could truly investigate this “I guess if this isn’t his first theft then maybe he would have some experience of how he could do this, is there any information about what his previous MO’s have looked like or what he’s doing or why he’s doing it?” But then it became clear that there was no information on it. “I can try and go through the logs and work out why the database has been wiped, or if it is just blocked from our clearance level and access, but it’s going to take me some time to work it all out.” 

Leaning on her hand, Agatha shook her head and sighed. “That makes sense, I suppose,” yawning, she looked at her watch and blew a raspberry again. It was getting late, and while she enjoyed company, they probably wanted to get back home as much as she did, although she didn’t doubt that Winston could do some of their magic and surprise her too. “But why?” She rubbed at the back of her neck, feeling a headache coming : the more she thought about this, the less she felt like she was getting closer to the end of the case. “Maybe she knows that guy,” pursing her lips, she zoomed in as best as she could on the recorded footage and printed that picture along with the joke that was this guy’s criminal record file. Maybe she could visit the shop owner and see if she knew whoever was on that video. “I don’t know, it feels like he’s taunting someone,” either he was taunting the police, or he was taunting Myriam. Either way, there was a good reason he allowed himself to be seen. “I’ll pay her a visit,” wouldn’t be going home quite yet. “Do you mind doing… your thing while I’m gone? If you want to wait until I’m back for her shop that’s fine too.” She would hate for them to stay here and have Myriam tell her all she needed to know about this guy after all. It didn’t sound fair, at all.

“I don’t know why yet, but we’ll work it out. There’s always an answer, you just have to dig deep enough to find it.” It was late and Winston was ready to leave. They assumed that the same could be said for Agatha. After all they had been working for a while and the sweet embrace of their bed was beckoning them. But they knew that sometimes work simply had to come first and they would always prioritise their job. “I think that you should definitely pay her a visit, and I can definitely keep working on this while you’re gone.” Without Agatha here Winston was sure that they could find some spell that would help them get more information on this Mara and where he was from. Maybe they could check with some of the more in the loop members of the team to see if they had come across anything or they could access some information that had been wiped. Nothing that had been on a hard drive was actually permanently gone. Winston knew that as well as any other computer geek, the only difference was that Winston had a whole other way to get things off of hard drives. “Hopefully I will have something when you're back.” 

[gaycrouton]

Times they did something which could be considered 'intimate' or something couples would do

Ten Times Mulder and Scully were intimate in their own unique way. UST. MSR.

Huge shout out to @admiralty-xfd for her beta and for helping me think of a good chunk of these.

I

“What’s this?” she asked, picking up the metal key he’d set on her desk. She already had a key to the office, she didn’t need another one. She flipped it over and saw on the other side, the word ‘SCULLY’ was written in black marker in Mulder’s signature scrawl.

“It’s a key to my apartment,” he responded. A permanent key to his apartment.

She felt a look of surprise pass over her face as she raised her gaze to look at him. “W-what’s it for?”

He looked at her for a moment, almost nervous, and for some reason it made her nervous. “Are you still available?” he asked. She was learning he was a bit of a flirt, but this was a little bold even for him. She’d just told him that she broke up with Ethan less than a month ago. She still kept forgetting he liked Iced Tea when it was her turn to run and get lunch. And now he was inviting her over for…?

“…For what?” she replied, tracing the ridges of the key with her thumb.

“Remember,” he started, sitting at his desk while maintaining eye contact with her. “You said you could feed my fish while I go to Pittsburgh this weekend.”

Memories of a sleepy agreement dawned on her and she felt embarrassed for jumping to conclusions. “Oh, yeah-sorry,” she laughed awkwardly, feeling blood rush to her face.

A surprised smile quirked his lips upwards as he caught sight of her blush. “Did you think-”

“No, no. I just forgot. I’m still available,” she interrupted, not wanting to hear him say it out loud.

“Thank you, do you remember the address?” he asked.

“Hegal Place in Alexandria, right?” she replied, diverting her attention to her work.

“2630 Hegal Place, apartment 42,” he replied with a nod, seemingly pleased she was right. “Scully,” he added, prompting her to look at him.

“Yes?” she replied, looking at him expectantly.

“Are you implying you wouldn’t be interested in becoming roommates?” he joked with a wink.

Now, a few days later as she stood in the middle of his apartment, the answer would have to be no.

This was, in every sense of the word, a bachelor pad. She’d fed the fish after searching for the food for a minute, and had spent the rest of the last ten minutes taking a self-guided tour. She didn’t want to invade his privacy…she was just curious.

A framed basketball jersey, an odd affinity for Aztecian home decor, a refrigerator filled with expired foods and liquids, it was so stereotypically ‘man cave’-y that she couldn’t help but smile. She could see the quirks she’d noticed in the office manifest here. Being in his apartment, in some odd way, felt like being with Mulder. His sunflower seeds were in a pile on his kitchen table, surrounded by�� copies of The Lone Gunman? She hadn’t heard about that publication, but he seemed to have quite a collection.

Not only were the traces of Mulder activity present, but she could still smell his cologne around the apartment. She chastised herself for how oddly comforting the whole place was. Minus the fact his bedroom looked like a storage unit for miscellaneous crap rather than a place to sleep.

When she’d decided she’d intruded quite enough, she went into the living room to grab her purse off the table but got distracted by the bottom row of his bookshelf - which was filled with something that didn’t quite look like books.

Upon bending over, she was met with:

Night Trips

Nothing to Hide

Debbie Does Dallas

Latex

The Opening of Misty Beethoven

In the Office

Her mouth dropped open as her eyes widened at the collection. Oh my god…there were so many. She wasn’t disgusted or anything, it was natural he’d want to…stress relief, but surely-

Well, actually, they never actually brought up if he had anyone. It didn’t seem like he had a girlfriend, sometimes she could tell he was lonely. She still regretted teasing him with “Unlike you, Mulder, I would like to have a life.” It hurt his feelings and she could tell. But, he was an attractive man. There was no denying that. Surely if he wanted to…indulge himself…it wouldn’t be hard for him to find someone who wanted to join. Even I-

She stood up quickly, breaking her own train of thought and shaking it from her mind. This is why you don’t intrude, Dana.

II

Usually she was pretty good at checking forecasts before they ran off to whatever part of the country Mulder dragged them to. This was not one of those occasions. She just didn’t realize how fucking cold it got in Indiana at night. It was only September. But heaven forbid Mulder warn her, he clearly knew to come prepared if his big warm jacket was any indication.

Mulder’d asked her several times if she was cold, but all it did was serve to piss her off more. They’d been snapping at each other since they got here and every little thing was just aggravating him. The flight was late, the witness stood them up, the police were treating them like jokes. He clearly was pissed off because he felt bad he’d dragged her there, and she was pissed off that he was acting like she was just following him around and that it wasn’t her assignment too or her choice to go there.

It was just a series of little things being blown out of proportion and it was even more frustrating being that they both could acknowledge they weren’t really mad at the other but they were too fucking stunted apparently to just apologize.

They’d been walking for a few blocks now, the 'three blocks over’ the sheriff had told them in reference to a diner was turning into fifteen, clearly either being wrong or a practical joke. Her jaw hurt from clenching so hard to keep her teeth from chattering. It was juvenile, but she didn’t want him to take her freezing as another lash of guilt to add to himself.

“Scully- he started.

“I’m fine, Mulder,” she replied tersely as she stabbed her fingers against the 'walk’ button.

She drew her arms into her chest in an attempt to compartmentalize her warmth, and then suddenly she felt something warm and relieving drape around her shoulders. She looked over and saw he’d taken off his coat to give it to her with a look of contrition littering his face. “Listen, Scully. I’m sorry I’ve been short with you all day.”

She grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled them further in on herself, burying her face against it and internally reveling in the lingering scent of him still present. “I’m sorry too. I just don’t want you to think I’m some stray dog you brought along for the ride-”

“I’d never think of you that way,” he interrupted gently.

“Then stop saying you 'dragged me out here.’ I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t want to,” she told him earnestly.

“Thank you,” he replied softly, placing a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to help warm her up as they walked across the street. “I guess I’m just a little embarrassed,” he shrugged.

“Don’t be, they just don’t understand you,” she comforted, feeling exponentially better in the warmth of him.

“Well,” he sighed, rubbing up and down her arm as she bumped into his side from walking so close. “At least you do.”

III

“Wait,” she called out, stopping him as he turned to part ways in the middle of the parking garage.

He turned back around wordlessly, waiting for her to continue, and was surprised to see that she seemed more shy than she’d just been a moment ago. She started fumbling around in her purse as she talked, and as much as it was probably to find whatever object she was looking for, he was equally suspicious that she was avoiding eye contact. “I, um. I just thought that, you know, since we’re in so many stressful situations all the time that it might be convenient for you to have this.”

As if punctuating that last word, she pulled out something small and silver and extended her hand out to him. He held his hand out and let her drop something metallic into his palm. When she pulled back, he saw it was a key and he felt oddly proud of this display of trust. “Is this to your apartment?”

She lowered her gaze and paid a slightly ridiculous amount of attention to zipping her purse. “Yeah, I just figured that if I have yours it’s only fair that you have mine.”

“Thank you,” he smiled, pulling his keyring out from his pocket and flipping them so that her key would be right next to his.

“But use it wisely, Mulder,” she warned lightheartedly. “This isn’t an invitation for you to bust into my apartment whenever you please.”

“You’re no fun,” he teased.

IV

Should he leave? Does she know he’s here?

They’d been investigating a lead at a church and he lost sight of her. When he caught up with her, he found her kneeling at a pew with her hands clasped in front of her. He could see her lips faintly moving and he suddenly felt like he’d intruded on something extremely intimate.

Yet he couldn’t look away. It was touching, seeing her in her element, and in this moment he felt like he got a taste of what it was like for her to work with him everyday.

He didn’t understand it; on a fundamental level this wholehearted trust in one being to have complete and utter control in your life seemed overwhelming. It was the very same thing he fought against everyday, he couldn’t imagine finding any comfort and solace in it.

But yet he respected it because it meant so much to her. To her it was the backbone of her being, a guide for all she did. And anything that meant so much to Scully was important.

4He was watching her perform this ritual with practiced grace. He felt like it might have been intrusive, but he watched her lips move with rapt fascination. He saw the word 'mom’, he saw 'Bill’, and then he saw something that made his breath catch in his throat.

Scully prayed for him.

V

“Mulder,” he states into the phone, only to be answered with dead silence for ten seconds. He adjusts the phone against his ear as he turns his blinker on to switch lanes. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me,” Scully’s voice replied from the other end. She sounded apprehensive, but he figured maybe she was worried because he wasn’t usually late to work.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I’m almost there,” he apologized, turning onto the street of the Hoover Building.

“Oh… um. Okay, I’ll see you here,” she answered oddly.

Something was off but he wasn’t sure what it was. “Is everything okay? Did you need something?” he asked.

“No, no. It’s fine, nevermind,” she rushed.

“If you need me to pick something up for you I can, I promise it’s no inconvenience at all,” he earnestly reassured as he passed the entrance for the parking garage.

“Can you pick me up some-,” the last word she said was mumbled and he was curious if there was someone in the office she didn’t want to overhear.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

“Could you pick me up some tampons? I don’t have any and I can’t find a dispenser or a generous coworker and I really need them,” she mumbled.

Scully was asking him to do a personal favor.

Sometimes he felt like he unloaded so much of his own personal baggage onto her and she never asked for anything in return. In all honesty, they’d been partners for three years now, yet she was still a bit of an enigma to him. It didn’t matter to Mulder in the slightest that asking him was her last choice, he was just over the moon that she’d tasked him with something so important and not work-related.

“Of course I can. I’ll stop by Walgreens right now,” he comforted. He could only try to empathize with her situation and even then he felt like he wasn’t doing it justice. Was she in pain? Was she bleeding on herself?

He really didn’t know, but what he did know was that he wanted to do all he could to help her.

“Thank you, Mulder. I really appreciate it,” she replied.

“Don’t mention it. I’ll see you in a few.”

He lasted a minute in the aisle before calling her again. “At the risk of sounding like a stupid man, I’m confused,” he admitted.

“Usually there’s a feminine hygiene section next to the pharmacy-”

“No, I found them. I just found too many of them. What do the letters mean? Does it matter what color they are?” he asked, scanning the aisle filled with boxes adorned with women playing tennis on them.

He could hear her smiling and was glad to know his confusion was easing her prior self-consciousness. “Um, aim for getting the ones that say S plus, please. If you see a multipack that’d be great.”

He looked around and found a section dedicated to multipacks and there he saw ’S plus’ meant 'Super Plus’ and his heart went out to her. “Do you want Kotex, Playtex, or Tampax?”

“Whichever’s cheapest is fine,” she replied before quickly adding. “But no cardboard applicators!”

“Cardboard applicators?” he repeated, confused.

He heard her chuckle under her breath before informing him, “The part you put in to get the tampon in. Most are a smooth plastic, but some sadistic, cheap man invented ones with cardboard instead and they hurt.”

Well that man be damned. “Okay, how does a one hundred and twenty pack, equally divided between 'R’, ’S’, and ’S plus’, of Kotex with a plastic applicator sound?” he asked, grabbing the box.

“That’s probably expensive. I’m really fine with just the small pack,” she told him as he walked to the chocolate aisle.

“Sure. I have to pick up a few things, but I’ll be over in a sec okay?” he replied.

Kotex 120 Pack - $24.99

Midol Complete Symptoms 40 Capsules - $6.99

M&Ms - $0.99

————————————–

Tax: 3.42

Total: $36.39

On the way into the building he started to fear she’d be mad at him for getting things she didn’t ask for, but he felt confident in his decision when he walked into the office and caught her grabbing her side with a pained grimace on her face, her lips pouting and her brows furrowing in discomfort. “Hey,” he greeted gently, not wanting to startle her.

She jumped and immediately let go of her side and put on a brave face, making him worry how many times she’s hidden her pain in the past. “Hey, thank you,” she smiled as she took the bag from him, her smile turning into confusion when she realized how heavy the bag was.

He stuffed the receipt in his pocket as he sat down, trying not to make a big deal out of this. “Mulder,” she drew out, shifting the contents around the bag for inspection. “This is very sweet, but you really didn’t have to.”

“I know,” he shrugged, turning on his computer.

“How much do I owe you?” she asked.

“Nothing, they were giving stuff away for free,” he teased.

“Mulder, no. This must’ve been expensive. I-”

“Consider it a thank you for all the hard work you do even though you’re in pain. I don’t mean that condescending or anything, I just feel bad that you have to deal with this every month,” he explained awkwardly.

She smiled at him and looked back at the bag before gasping, “M&Ms!”

VI

“Mulder, I’m fine.”

He hadn’t even asked the question and he could already hear her curt answer. It was the same answer he’d been getting for the past month.

But she wasn’t fine, and it was obvious.

He understood it was hard for someone as private as her to open up, but he wished she recognized it was just as hard to have to sit and watch her get thinner, paler, and sicker everyday yet be expected not to care.

And that’s really all he could do. Sit and watch.

Which is what he was doing and how he noticed the way her body lurched while she was looking at her computer, eyes widening before standing up as all the color drained from her face. “Scull-” he began to question.

“I have to go t-” her words were only the ghost of a whisper, as if she didn’t want to actually give them a voice, but he still heard them.

She turned to leave but just as quickly turned on her heel and let her eyes scan the floor as she raised a hand to her mouth.

Oh

He jumped up and quite literally leaped into action, reaching an arm to the side of the desk she wasn’t on and pulling the trash can from the floor so he could pass it to her.

She snatched it out of his hand in her hurry and turned her back to him as she set the trash can on the floor, fell to her knees, and threw up. Her entire body was being wracked from the force of her vomiting, and he was at her side in a minute.

He grabbed her hair, focusing on the front and sides to avoid any strands falling and getting in the way. With his other hand, he rubbed soothing circles on her back as he whispered, “It’s okay, Scully. Let it out. Please don’t cry.”

He felt himself trying not to choke on the last words as he saw her lip quiver in between her now sporadic bouts of dry-heaving. The first two rounds were powerful, what looked like her entire, miniscule lunch coming up, but these last few were just strained sounds as her body tried to throw up nothing - which was all she had left.

Mulder took his hand off her back momentarily as he strained to grab his mug of water from his desk, eventually looping his fingers around it and pulling it down to give to her. “Here,” he offered as she sat up straighter.

She looked at the cup only, avoiding his eyes, and grabbed it with both hands before bringing it up to her lips and taking small sips. “It’s just a side effect of the medicine I’m taking,” she murmured softly into the cup.

He knew. Nausea, vomiting, fatigue, dizziness, confusion, weight changes, mood swings. He looked up every single piece of information he could find when he was able to read the medicine label one day. It was the only way he could bite his tongue when he saw her sway on her feet or ask the same question twice within five minutes or continue wearing her old clothes even though they hung off her skeletal body or when she managed to look him in the eye and tell him she was seriously fucking fine. It made it easier on him; She wasn’t dying, it was the medicine.

“I didn’t want you to see that,” she admitted and he felt like he’d finally taken a breath of fresh air after suffocating for weeks. She was being honest.

He watched as she untucked the trash bag from the can, bringing the edges together and tying them up to conceal her puke. “I want you to know I’ll always be here for you,” he told her.

She looked over at him and he saw her eyes were red, puffy, and wet. No tears had fallen, but they were wet enough to reflect her pain to him. The same pain he heard in her voice when she said, “I know you will.”

VII

He was a little worried when she wasn’t answering or returning his calls. His worry morphed into full blown concern when she wouldn’t answer the door when he knocked. Want to meet at my apartment at six?

They had plenty of time before they needed to be in Harrisburg, but it was unlike Scully to be late, even more unlike her to be unresponsive. He got out his key ring and found the one he seldom had the opportunity to use.

He timidly let himself into her apartment with his key, not wanting to evoke fury from his not-so-morning person partner. “Scully?” he called out, letting the door close behind him. All the lights were off, the only light streaming in through the blinds and making the dust motes in the air dance.

Surely she didn’t get the plans mixed up.

He heard a sound from down the hall and he followed it calling her name once more before reaching the doorway of her bedroom to alert her of his presence.

Oh.

Scully, his perfectly punctual partner, slept in.

The blinds to her window were pulled up completely so he could see her perfectly through the blue light of morning. He felt himself holding his breath in an unneeded attempt to maintain the serenity of the room as he tiptoed to the other side of the bed to get a look at her fully.

She looked so diminutive under the covers and he couldn’t believe that the little bundle wrapped in quilts was actually his partner. When he moved enough to see her face, he couldn’t help the smile that broke out onto his face. She’d kill him if she knew he thought it, but she looked so cute.

She was laying on her side and cuddling one of her many pillows, embracing it with her arms and draping her top leg over it protectively. For the first time in his life, he was jealous of a pillow. Her hair was unruly and puffy, but didn’t obscure his view of her peaceful face.

He froze for a second when he heard her make a sound, immediately realizing how creepy he’d seem if she just woke up to him hovering next to her. But instead of waking up, she just made a little sleepy whining sound and tightened her grip on the pillow, burrowing her cheek against it.

Her lips were parted as her usually stoic face took on an almost childlike innocence. He felt in this moment how he did looking at the little perfection in life - blankets of virgin snow, the surface of a lake without any ripples, dawn breaking in the distance on a cool morning. All made his breath stop as he couldn’t resist stopping and taking in the fleeting beauty.

He wished it could last forever, but he knew he had to be the one to wake her.

Easing down onto his haunches next to the bed, so they were face to face, he tentatively raised a hand and brushed some hair away from her face. It almost seemed like she recognized on some subconscious level that he’d done that because a small cooing sound of comfort escaped her lips as her tongue came out to lick her lips. He didn’t think he’d ever said 'awwww’ so many times in his head before as he had since entering this room.

“Scully,” he whispered, stroking her cheek.

He didn’t get a response so he moved to her arm, squeezing lightly, “Scully.”

“MMgoo'night,” she murmured, barely moving her lips and still deep in sleep’s clutches.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at that as he told her, “No, no, Scully. It’s morning. We have to leave soon.”

An adorable frown tugged on her lips as her brows furrowed - the first footfall in the snow, the ripple in the pond. “Five more minutes, please,” she begged in an uncharacteristically whiney voice.

“I have coffee for us in the car,” he prompted.

She must’ve actually registered him that time because her eyes started to flutter open, lazily flitting around until they landed on his face. He smiled at her sweetly in an attempt to prevent her from getting startled.

“Mulder?” she asked, sleep still thick in her voice.

“Good morning,” he greeted.

“Wha’s wrong?” she asked, raising herself up on one hand as the other came up to her face to rub her eyes.

As she raised herself, the quilt fell from her and revealed the tight tank top she’d been wearing as a pyjamas. She wasn’t wearing a bra and he wasn’t prepared to be face to face with Dana Scully’s barely concealed, perfect breasts so early in the morning.

“Uh, n-nothing. You just weren’t answering my calls and I was worried something was wrong,” he answered, clearing his throat and trying not to gawk as her body reacted to the cool morning air.

She looked confused and rolled away from him, craning her neck to presumably look at a clock on the other nightstand. As she did this, the quilt twisted in her legs and pulled down, revealing the bottom portion of her pyjamas.

Or lack thereof.

To add another thing that was just making this the best morning of his life, he just got an eyeful of Dana Scully’s underwear clad ass. She gasped and whipped back over to him and his eyes shot to the ceiling. “Oh my god, Mulder! I’m so sorry!”

“Y-you’re fine,” he assured as she jumped out of bed and inadvertently rubbed against him while running to her closet.

“We’re so late!” she rushed, the navy brat in her coming out. If they left right now, they’d be an hour early.

“Scully, take your time,” he said as he watched her grab a pantsuit at random and rush to the bathroom, trying his best to ignore the way her lithe body moved in the morning light. “Um, I’ll give you some privacy. I’ll wait out in the living room.”

“I’m so sorry!” she called out again to the man who felt like the luckiest guy alive.

VIII

She’d been asleep for the last three hours of the drive and only woke up because there were too many cars around them for him to avoid this particular pothole. Mulder tried not to stare as she did her adorable little stretches to wake up and orient herself.

She rubbed her eyes before quietly groaning, “Shit.”

“Hmm?” he hummed in recognition, internally rejoicing that he got to hear her swear.

“I forgot I was wearing makeup,” she mumbled, pulling the visor down and looking at herself in the mirror.

Mulder wasn’t sure what she was doing, but she was just making little adjustments and wipes here and there with her fingers. She looked under the visor to make sure they were at a red light before turning to him. “Do I look okay?”

He knew his answer before he even turned to look at her, but he pretended to have to check just to take the opportunity to examine her face. She was letting herself be on full display, looking directly at him and jutting her chin out, slightly rotating her head around so he could get the full Scully-experience. “You always look good,” he replied honestly.

She smiled, despite herself, and rolled her eyes. “No seriously. Is my makeup smudged? Does it look even?”

They just stared at each other for a moment, her trying to find signs something was off in his eyes and him just enjoying looking at hers. Taking a chance, he raised a hand to her face and cupped her cheek. He felt as much as he saw her breath catch as she remained totally still. He lifted his thumb and very carefully stroked the skin under one of her eyes. She looked up to, he assumed, give him better access, and it made him happy to see this small display of trust.

As quickly as it started, he pulled his hand back into his lap, and murmured, “Perfect.”

They both knew he wasn’t talking about her makeup.

IX

She should just give up. She finally tried to go on a date after an embarrassingly long dry spell, one that seemed to correlate perfectly to her work on the X Files, and she got stood up. Well, kind of. She was completely dressed and on her way to the restaurant, the one that required a monetary donation in order to get a reservation, and he decided to call last minute and cancel. No raincheck though, apparently his wife wasn’t fond of polygamy. Go figure.

For a moment she considered pulling over and having herself a good cry, just let herself have a moment to indulge in some good ol’ self-pity, but by the time she found a place to park, she found herself right outside Mulder’s apartment. It was funny how things seemed to work out like that.

She turned off the car and took a moment to look at herself in the rearview mirror and evaluate her situation.

One, she looked sexy right now. Hair, makeup, dress. She looked damn good.

Two, she would only lose out on the money she spent on the reservation. Insult to injury.

Three, Mulder would say yes. He loved food and he loved hanging out with her.

Four, she’d rather be on a date with him anyway.

But it wasn’t going to be a date. That’s what she told herself as she made her way to his door. She had been intending to go on a date, and now she was just hanging out with her best friend. No more, no less.

He opened the door on the third knock and his normal greeting of “Hey, Scully” managed to morph into “He-oh my god…you look…Scully, you look fantastic.” His appreciation of the hard work she’d put into choosing a dress made her feel somehow validated. Appreciated. She figured it had something to do with the fact that she’d been holding every dress up in the mirror and thinking about whether or not he’d have that very same reaction.

She loved being right.

“Thank you,” she smiled, pretending like the newly exposed tops of her breasts were something he saw everyday and that she wasn’t noticing the way his eyes were unabashedly roaming. She might’ve noticed if this was a date, maybe even teased him a little. But this was not a date. “I was just curious if you were busy tonight?”

“No, why?” he asked, and she ignored the hint of hope she heard in his voice because no one ever sounded that eager to hang out with their friends. Which is what this was.

“My mom tried to set me up on a date, but he cancelled while I was on my way and the dinner reservations are non-refundable. So, I was hoping, since I’m not going on a date anymore, if you’d want to just go grab some dinner with me?” she asked, hoping she managed to subtly emphasize her point.

“He cancelled? Was this a blind date?” he asked, incredulous shock in his tone.

She laughed lightly and walked through the door when he ushered her to. “No, we’ve actually met a few times. He goes to my mother’s church.”

She heard Mulder grumble something under his breath that sounded really close to 'what an idiot’ but before she had a chance to ask him to repeat himself he stated. “Of course, I’d love to go with you and salvage your evening, but if you’re any indication, I’m severely underdressed. Where is it?”

“It’s at Un restaurant français chic,” she told him, tucking a wavy tendril of hair behind her ear.

“I’ll go put on my suit,” he nodded, walking to his bedroom.

“Oh, Mulder, I really don’t want to put you out. You look fine,” she called out.

“Not when you look like that!” he replied, closing the door.

She caught her reflection in a nearby mirror and couldn’t help but smile. She’d done her eye makeup darker than normal, her hair was waved, and both served to compliment her face nicely. Her dress was midnight black with thin spaghetti straps, a heart shaped neckline, and a slit up the side, emphasizing her leg.

She looked good and she was glad he got to see it.

Within a few minutes, Mulder came out of the bedroom wearing what had to have been the best fitting suit known to man. She whistled appreciatively and he ducked his head and smiled. He stopped near her, next to the mirror to look at himself. “Do I look okay?” he asked, his eyes roaming aimlessly as they’d never fall on an imperfection.

“You clean up wonderfully, partner,” she confirmed.

He smiled and turned, but she stopped him with a gentle hand on his chest. Mulder looked at her wordlessly as she adjusted his tie, biting a smile as she watched his adam’s apple bob nervously under her touch.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Ready,” he smiled, leading her with his hand on the small of her back.

X

She was a strong, independent woman. She was resilient, she was self-reliant, and she was proud. She was the last person who would ever want to fall privy to the gender stereotypes often forced upon her.

But she couldn’t for the life of her figure out how to fix her goddamned sink. It’d been leaking for days and she just couldn’t figure out how to get it to stop. To top it all off, her apartment complex’s maintenance guy was creepy and she didn’t want him in her apartment - and her schedule was too hectic to call someone.

That left one option.

“Hey? Can you stop by my place after work?” she asked from across the desk.

He looked surprised, but curious. “Yeah, why?”

“I’m not asking you because you’re a man and I assume you know how, but because I know you’re a good problem solver,” she began.

“Wow, what a preamble,” he teased.

She rolled her eyes and explained, “My sink is broken and I don’t have the right tools to fix it nor do I understand how to.”

“Say no more, I’m your man,” he boasted.

He’d said that with so much confidence that she could barely believe her eyes when she walked behind him a few hours later and saw he was browsing the internet for 'How to fix a sink.’ He quickly clicked onto a different document when he noticed her presence but she pretended that she hadn’t been paying attention to him. She felt herself smile even though she was trying her hardest to repress it, that was just too sweet and so incredibly Mulder of him.

To say she was excited to see how this panned out was an understatement. She knew Mulder was a quick learner and eager to please, but, honestly, looking back she couldn’t think of a time she’d ever seen him do anything handyman-esque.

They’d agreed on seven and he showed up at six thirty. “I’m sorry I’m so early, I can leave and come back,” he apologized when he took in her wet hair and fluffy bathrobe.

“No, no, I just got out of the shower. This is perfect timing, come on in.” As he walked passed her, she admired his new outfit. He was wearing old, worn blue jeans with a heather gray t-shirt. It was a casual side of him that she couldn’t help but admire. He looked really good.

“Is it the kitchen sink or bathroom sink?” he asked.

“Bathroom,” she motioned. She followed him down the hall and flicked on the light switch for him. “Sorry it’s warm in here. I just got out of the shower.”

“It smells like you,” he replied. Then, as if embarrassed he said that, he teased her by playing mechanic, putting on a deep, 'manly’ voice, “So little lady, what seems to be the problem.”

Indulging him for once, she made her voice airy and breathy and, in a faux southern drawl, replied, “Well, my pipes just won’t stop leakin’.”

As if they realized the innuendo at the same time, they burst out laughing. “Okay, sorry. No-it just honestly is dripping everywhere.”

“Too wet?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes and slapped his arm lightly as he set his tool bag on the sink. She didn’t bring attention to the store tag she saw still attached. “I think I can take care of that,” he replied, pulling out a wrench. She wondered how many tutorials he read to know exactly what tool to use.

He bent down and opened her cabinets before turning so he was on his back, looking upwards. From her vantage point she could just see from chest down and it was an erotic sight she hadn’t anticipated. Most plumbers exposed their asscrack, but Mulder was letting his defined adonis belt peek out over his jeans and under his slightly raised shirt. “How long has this been an issue?” he asked, making conversation.

“About two weeks,” she answered, clearing her throat.

“Make sure to do it the right way this time,” she teased, suddenly remembering when he offered his help a few cases ago and how absolutely horrible that had worked out.

“Haha, very funny,” he chuckled.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist,” she smirked, watching him work.

“Why didn’t you ask me sooner?” he asked, accompanying the sounds of cranking.

“I wanted to figure it out. I tried to tighten it myself, but I think I just couldn’t get it,” she replied, watching the way his hips lightly thrust upwards from the force of his cranks.

“It looks like you were close,” he comforted, though she didn’t know if it was necessarily true.

“Thanks,” she smiled.

“Try the sink,” he told her.

She awkwardly tried to reach the faucet, but ended up having to stand right next to him while hoping her robe didn’t gape open and expose herself.

The sink ran and she heard him let out a triumphant sound before he hit her legs with his face. “Sorry,” she laughed, stepping back as he placed a hand on her calf to pull himself up.

“No, you’re fine,” he chuckled. Mulder stood up, a few wet stops from the prior drip blossoming on his shirt.

She hadn’t expected it to be so fast and she didn’t want him to leave quite yet. I mean he drove all the way here and all. “Want to stay for coffee?” she asked, tucking a wet strand behind her ear.

He smiled at her, clearly not having wanted to leave himself and nodded, “Yeah.”

[rational-mastermind]

A/N: Hey!! Everyone wants more Quinnvoyant right? Right?? Well too bad, it’s all I have. And an au! Soulmate au where if you write on yourself, it’ll show up on your Soulmate.

--

  Everyone knew that if you wrote on yourself, it would appear on your soulmate as well. And Chris Quinn was no exception to this. Though, for a long time, there was only cute things like drawings of cats and rainbows and stars. Cute poems. Reminders. It was fine enough when he was a kid but as he got older it was just embarrassing. So he would wear long sleeves and hide the writing as best as he could.

   Sometimes he would talk with her, but she was too shy to reveal where she lived or who she was. Which kind of annoyed him. Wasn’t the whole point supposed to be that they would meet?

   When they got to high school, they talked less. Life got busy for her. Life was busy enough for him as well. Sometimes they would check in. Sometimes it would be reminders of homework assignments, or notes in class. Just kind of easily forgetting the other can see what they wrote.

   Then one day, his skin started getting covered in words, very quickly. Bright red marker showed up all over his arms and hands and it crawled all over his body. The same words over and over and over.

   “FREAK”

   “PSYCHO”

   “CREEP”

   “KILL ME”

   None too surprisingly, the only place she didn’t write was on her right arm. She was too busy writing, after all.

   Chris found a nearby ballpoint pen and began writing.

   “Et tu?”

   The scribbling suddenly stopped. For a moment he was worried. But then the ink began running off. It looked wet and began to run down his arms.

   Tears.

   After watching it a moment he began writing himself.

   “What happened?”

   “Bullies.” was the eventual reply.

   “Why?”

   “Cause it’s true.”

   “Same.”

   “What do you mean?”

   Chris sighed. He knew he wasn’t like other kids. They would all avoid him, be afraid of him, or talk about him weird just cause he talked about blood and death and demons and stuff that went bump in the night. He wasn’t gothic. Not by a long shot. He just...liked gore. He liked pain. He once got into a fight. One of the kids had a knife.

   He couldn’t stop giggling.

   There was something so...so thrilling, when he saw the red.

   The voices in his head only encouraged it.

   “I’m a psychopath.” he wrote.

   “I don’t think you are.”

   “That makes one of us.”

   “Well what makes you so weird?”

   “I… hear voices… And… I see things.”

   “Really?”

   “Yeah. But I’m told it’s not-”

   “Me too.”

   Chris stared at the two simple words. Somehow, it utterly stumped him. He felt...weird. He wasn’t sure why though. But he wasn’t entirely opposed to it.

   “What kind of things do you see?” he asked.

   “It’s hard to describe. Sometimes it’s people. Sometimes it’s just screaming. Or loud talking. Sometimes it’s colors and random pictures. What about you?”

   “More about dogs and demons and the end of the world and shit.”

   The rest of the writing on his body started to disappear. She was wiping it off.

   “Can we switch brains?”

   “Yeah, yours sounds more fun.” he chuckled to himself. After a moment’s thought he ventured forth to ask. “So what do you imagine I’m like?”

   “I don’t know. When I try to read you I get this weird image of something dirty and gritty like a horror movie. But at the same time, I also get this...warmth.”

   “Warmth?”

   “Like a towel out of the dryer. It’s warm and soft and it feels like home. It’s funny... Reading your words…”

   Chris felt a bizarre fuzziness grab hold of his brain. The world seemed to darken around him as she continued to write.

   “I can almost see you

   Christopher Quinn”

   Suddenly Chris felt very uneasy and quickly began rinsing off their conversation and scrub the words away. An unsettling chill surrounded him. It was weird. It was creepy. It was...sexy?

   Chris then proceeded to dunk his head under the sink and run cold water over him as well.

   They stopped talking after that.

   Chris got into writing. Finished high school and began making his living.

   Then the asylum.

   Then the Shadow.

   Then the Ministry.

   Chris went through so much hell. Of course it had its positives. There was Trilby and kicking demon ass. A good use of his psychotic tendencies. Making the world safe from the Shadow and keeping magic a secret. The people around the Ministry weren’t too bad. Yarrow was a bit...boring. But Jim was fun to mess with. And Claire was fun. There was always something to do, even if that something normally made Trilby roll his eyes.

   Then one day, well… It was bound to happen.

   Trilby was going to be out of action for a while. A mix up with a vampire left him incapable of going on assignments with Chris. But anyone who ever called Chris a “loose cannon” would recommend that he got someone to tag along in place of Trilby. Someone responsible and level-headed.

   Well who better than the absent-minded psychic he was pounding in the off hours?

   Yeah they were knocking boots. Nothing to get too attached over. It’s not like Chris got to know her life story or anything. Just letting off a bit of steam whenever they could hook up. All he knew was that she was very very much a psychic. Something he found interesting and she found best kept swept under the rug, much to his own disappointment.

   At first she seemed hesitant to go on a mission with him, but after some convincing, and a lot of unusual head shaking and slicing motions from Trilby behind her, she finally agreed.

   It was a simple mission. Done and over in a day. Of course it was the traveling that took the longest. It was on the farthest end of Ireland, naturally. It had some cultists and brainwashing and something to do with summoning a pagan deity. Claire was a natural and it was actually kind of fun getting to do work stuff with her.

   They were traveling back and Claire was already writing up their required report on a notepad. Chris couldn’t help but notice the way she gnawed on a pencil as she tried to focus. The way her fingers drummed through the air like she was at the computer back at HQ, if not fiddling with her large, round glasses. The way the air around her became still and focused as she accidentally projected her feelings about them. Chris could practically hear the gears grinding away in her brain as she tried to recall every needed detail.

   He chuckled to himself and it instantly snapped the tension in the air as her brain derailed.

   “What? What’s funny?” she asked, looking up.

   “Nothing. Just.. I dunno.” he shrugged. “You’re so focused.”

   “Well… I mean..” she shrugged as well. “It gets kinda hard to report faithfully.”

   “Eh those pricks in the higher-ups always find flaws in our reports. No matter what.” Chris rolled his eyes.

   “Hm. True.” Claire sighed. “But it’s not just them. You go looking through so many different minds, so many different vibes and lives it’s kinda easy to forget what’s happening in the real world. You know?”

   “Well.. No. I wouldn’t.” Chris glanced back at her.

   “Oh.. yeah, I guess you wouldn’t.”

   Chris chuckled again.

   “Hey by the way, you were pretty great back there.”

   “Hmm.. I wouldn’t say that.” Claire shrugged.

   “You kidding me? The way you fucked with that one-”

   “Ummm.” Claire interrupted and Chris noticed she looked horribly uncomfortable as she fidgeted with her glasses more. “If.. If it’s all the same Chris.. Can we not talk about...that?”

   “Oh.. Right. Sorry. Forget that makes you uneasy.”

   “Just…something drilled into me, I guess.”

   There was a moment of silence. Then Chris spoke up.

   “Hey um.. Can I...ask something?”

   “If you wanna know if I can predict the future, the answer is no.” Claire rolled her eyes.

   “Damn.” Chris clicked his tongue in disappointment. “....Did you always hate your powers?”

   “Mm..” Claire was quiet for a moment before she shrugged and looked out the window of the car. “What was there to like?”

   “Um, cause it’s fucking psychic powers.”

   “Yeah, exactly.” she sighed. “They always got me in trouble.. It.. Creeps a lot of people out.”

   “Come on. It couldn’t have always been that bad-”

   “No. It was.” Claire growled, her voice taking on a tone akin to earlier that day, but somehow lacking the same venom behind it. “It was always that bad. It was awful. You’ve no idea.”

   “...Well… Like what?”

   “....Like earlier.” Claire shrugged. “But.. By accident. I would...hurt them.. And scare them.”

   Chris frowned. Claire was normally so bubbly, happy, a bit forgetful, but chipper despite the depressing and horrific nightmare that their livelihood was. He hated seeing her this downtrodden. It was wrong. Like on a fundamental scale, this was just wrong.

   “...Did.. Something traumatic happen?” he asked. “Something that made you hate it so much?”

   Claire gave a dry chuckle before replying. “I wouldn’t say...traumatic but.. Well.. It did drive a wedge between me and some really important people.”

   “Was there a guy?”

   “....Yeah…”

   Chris felt something grip him. A sudden kind of deep-rooted anger. The kind akin to staring down a vampire or some other unholy abomination. Not counting Trilby, of course.

   “Who-”

   “Should get some gas. Before the ferry.”

   Chris sighed but found a station and pulled over. Clearly she didn’t wanna keep talking. While he was filling up, she went inside to use the bathroom.

   “Look over the report. Jot down anything I missed, got it?”

   “Yeah..”

    Chris felt crummy and stupid and angry. Claire was a great person! Why would anyone hate her for having psychic powers? Okay yeah so she kind of really mentally fucked with that one guy. And yeah okay so maybe she kinda caused another to have an aneurysm. Yeah sure that might’ve been a more common problem when she was a kid and yeah it might’ve been like Stephen King’s Fury, but so?

   And it’s not like Chris would’ve hurt this guy…. Much.

   He growled and kicked a tire before getting back in the car. He sighed and leaned against the wheel, waiting for Claire to return. That was when he noticed Claire’s notepad left laying on the space between their seats. Oh right.. Reporting.

   Chris sighed and grabbed it. He looked over the notes. Everything seemed in order. She left off at the part where cultists were about to start sacrificing the local children but she’ll likely finish jotting down the basic plot when they got back. Chris grabbed the ballpoint pen she had been using and was about to go back and fix her grammar when something caught his eye.

   A small doodle Claire had in the corner. It was a cat.

   Chris squinted and looked it over carefully. It looked familiar.

   Suddenly it dawned on him. He had seen this before.

   Chris’ mind started racing, putting all the pieces together. But.. But how could he prove it? And how could he prove it without worrying Claire?

   Chris then looked back at the pen in his hand and had a perfect idea.

   Meanwhile Claire was hiding in the bathroom. She knew this was a bad idea. She knew this was gonna be horrible! She knew this was gonna happen and she just had to keep playing with fire, didn’t she??

   “Stupid stupid stupid!” Claire banged her head on the wall. “Listen! To your! Intuition!!”

   Of course she knew who he was. Ever since the first day Trilby introduced him at the STP.

   Claire and Trilby were discussing the differences in using iodized salt compared to sea salt, though ultimately, they both knew pink Himalayan was best. But then Claire felt it. A familiar presence.

    She suddenly felt an oncoming wave of giddy excitement that made her almost tremble. And a familiar warmth that quickly wrapped around her like a towel fresh out of the dryer.

   “Claire? You okay?”

   “Think someone’s-”

   “Trilby! We gotta go do a thing with cake- Oh. Hey.” Chris had rounded the door to Trilby’s cubicle but stopped short seeing Claire.

   “Hey.” Claire waved.

   “First of all, never again. Secondly, I never introduced you two, have I? Chris, meet Claire. Claire-”

   But she already knew who he was. But a deep anxiety prevented her from saying anything. But after getting to meet him, within all of five minutes she forgot entirely, simply living in the moment. And then she forgot again when they agreed to meet up after work. And she kept forgetting to a point it would’ve felt awkward to start saying anything then and gosh dammit.

   ‘Claire, why do you do this to yourself??’ she sighed and stepped out of the bathroom. ‘Always have to make everything awkward and weird…youfreak Can’t just remember to freaking speak up and say what’s on your mind?’

   Claire only hoped Chris would drop the subject and they could return to their normal status quo. At least she got to see him. At least they got to talk face to face. It was better than what most people could hope for. After all, some people never find their soulmates.

  ‘But they write every day.’  her unhelpful thoughts reminded her as she returned to the car. ‘When was the last time we wrote to each other?’

   She opened the car door and-

   “I KNEW IT!!!”

    “Aah!”

   Claire stumbled back, tripped on her heels and fell backwards onto the pavement.

   “What the hell, Chris?!” Claire scolded as she picked herself up.

   “Take a look in the mirror!”

   She got up and looked at her reflection in the window. She gasped, seeing a rather crude doodle of a cat across her cheek. She looked through the window only to find Chris with a matching mark and a wide grin stretching from ear to ear.

   “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?!” he asked.

   Claire stammered, laughed, and ended up crying. Her heart was pounding, she felt scared and worried. Chris’ smile disappeared and he got out of the car and came around to her.

   “Hey.. Hey hey hey. Hang on now.” he came over and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “What? What is it?”

   “I thought you’d hate me.” Claire managed to get out with a hiccup.

   “I know.. I’m sorry.. I didn’t hate you. I never did! I just.. You…”

   “Scared you.. Like.. I scare everyone.” she sniffled.

   “No! You didn’t scare me! I just.. I.. I dunno.” Chris shrugged. “I was a dumb teenager. I didn’t know what I was feeling.. I’m sorry.. I’m so sorry…”

   Claire simply shook her head. Chris ran a hand through his hair and thought for a moment.

   “...If it’ll make you feel better I could still kick my ass.”

  Claire laughed. She choked and then giggled some more and finally started wiping away her tears.

   “Please don’t.”

   Chris smiled and hugged her tight. She weakly hugged him back.

   “I’m sorry.”

   “I know..”

   After that, they began writing to each other more and more often. Little notes, here and there.

 “That was a lot of fun last night.”

 “There’s coffee in the breakroom.”

 “Fought a ghost. It was gross.”

 “Kissed one the other day.”

 “I’m stealing the last slice of cake. Don’t tell Trilby.”

   It was nice. It was fun. It was one thing that Claire would say was normal about their lives.

  “You wanna do something else after work tonight?”

 “I got a new cat figurine!”

 “Got to see the sunset while on the job. Reminded me of..”

 “Hey you’ve been quiet. You okay?”

 “Can I tell you something?”

   “I love you.”

[missweber]

Lardo Week Day 2: accident

Here is my entry for day 2 of @lardo-week

Chapter 2 - happy accidents 

(chapter 1 can be found here)

One of Larissa's very first studio assignments at Samwell didn't actually take place in the studio. To fulfill the assignment, they had to go to a sports practice and fill a number of sketchbook pages with gesture drawings of athletes in motion.

As an assignment, it was a darned good one that she normally would have enjoyed. The only problem was that Boston was in the middle of a heat wave and even teams that had practice at ass-o-clock in the morning would be sweating through their jocks and/or sports bras in five seconds flat.

In short, yuck.

(Also, Lardo had already learned the hard way that charcoal and copious amounts of sweat were not mixy things.)

She skimmed through the athletic calendar looking for something like 'competitive air-conditioned yoga' but figured in the end that ice hockey—emphasis on the ice—was her best bet.

If it hadn't been for her phone's battery conking out in the middle of the night and killing her alarm, she would have gone to the women's practice at o' dark early. As it was, she got to Faber after the men's team had already taken to the ice.

She got a few curious glances from the players, but their captain (she assumed it was the captain) barked at them to pay attention to the ice, not the stands. One of the coaches nodded at her sketchbook and asked, "Professor Davila's life drawing class?" without expecting an answer. 

It wasn't until she actually started drawing that Larissa realized why she was the only member of her class who had taken advantage of the cool of the rink. Yes, she had heard of the hockey team's general loudness and obnoxiousness, but that wasn't the problem. The shouts and insults ('chirps,' she would later learn) were a comfortable part of the background along with the swish-swish-swish of the skates and the clatter of the sticks.

The problem was more fundamental than that, and brought with it an echo of her mother's protests of you need to focus on what's practical, sweetie. You need to set yourself up for a successful life.

Practical would mean staying at home and taking the T to school every day. Practical would mean constant, well-meaning, 'we just want the best for you' commentary on her choice of studies.

Well, fuck practical. And what did it mean to be successful, anyway?

A small, exhausted part of her said that successful people didn't have to work at one of the campus dining halls to make up for what her partial scholarship and college fund wouldn't cover.

And drawing hockey players wasn't the most practical way to succeed at this particular assignment. 

Larissa was debating whether or not she should just give up and join the majority of her class at the soccer fields when someone scraped to a halt right in front of where she was sitting.

Whoever it was had better not ask her to 'draw him like one of your French girls,' or he would need a gastroenterologist to remove his hockey stick from his ass. 

"What?" she snarled.

The player wasn't anyone Larissa had met before. She would have recognized that mustache for sure. His eyes were wide, and he held his stick in front of him in both hands like a talisman.

"Wow," mustache-guy said. "I was going to tell you to try to capture my left side, because that's the best angle if you want to do a portrait of me, but _damn _if that isn't the single scariest death glare I have seen in my life! Jack! C'mere! You gotta see this death glare!"

The captain skated over, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. "Leave the nice artist alone, Shits." He turned to Larissa. "I apologize. In advance. For everything."

He grabbed mustache-guy by the back of the jersey and skated off with him in tow. 

Mustache-guy flailed and squirmed, but not to the point of actual resistance. "Jaaaaaack! You need to stop and talk to the scary lady! That death glare! Put her on D, and we'll have Brown shaking in their skates!"

The captain (Jack?) mouthed a silent 'sorry!' at her before turning his attention back to practice.  

She had just made up her mind to go draw soccer players for the rest of her assignment when the practice finally ended. She flipped through her sketches and was pleasantly surprised to find that she had nearly two-thirds of what was required.

She was less pleasantly surprised when mustache-guy scraped to a stop in front of her again.

"Um, I know this is really fucking forward of me, and you are totally free to say no—and wow, it's kind of fucked up that I even have to say that, isn't it?—but anyway..."

Oh, god. He was going to ask her out, wasn't he?

"I absolutely get it if you don't want to, completely one-hundred-percent get it, but could I see what you've been drawing?"

Lardo could only stare for a moment. "It's just gesture drawings," she blurted out even as she shoved the sketchbook at him.

"Gesture drawings?" He pulled off one of his gloves with his teeth so he could turn the pages. She could see how he looked at each little sketch in turn, not just skimming, but looking.

"Yeah. We're supposed to focus on capturing how the human form looks in motion."

The figures were roughly blocked out, with the occasional thick and swooping line showing the curve of a spine or sweep of a leg.

"These are really neat," he said after a while. "I mean, they're kind of scribbly in parts, but you can really see what's happening. Hell, I can even tell who some of these guys are!"

'Jack' was a tall, solid figure with classical proportions. "You can see how this this fucker just moves with power! Ah! Adonis made manifest on earth! And that's Johnson if I ever saw him," he said, pointing at a mess of foreshortening.

That was the goalie, captured as he dropped to block a puck, practically folding himself into something out of an Escher drawing in the process.

"Rans and Holster," he said, pointing at a tangle of overlapping forms that were still two separate people even though they occupied the same space. 

He turned to look through the pictures again, which was more flattering than Larissa would ever admit to anyone, while most of the other players headed towards the locker room.

"Thanks," she said. "I'm glad to hear that they work. I was beginning to think that coming here was a mistake."

The betrayed look on his face would have been hilarious if it wasn't so heartbreaking. "Mistake? No! There are no mistakes! Only happy accidents!"

Larissa laughed. "Did you just quote Bob Ross at me?"

"Please don't tell me you're one of those snobby art students who–"

"Bob Ross is awesome the way Mr. Rogers is awesome," she said plainly. "I'm not into his actual paintings, but you gotta love the way he loves what he does."

"Amen," mustache-guy said, sounding more serious than she would have expected. He was looking at his captain—Jack—as he said it.

(It was only after Larissa became Lardo that she would understand even half of what was going on with that look and everything behind it.)

"So why were you worried coming here was a mistake? Please tell me that none of the guys were douchewaffles! I know we're loud, but it's like we're the lacrosse team!"

"Ha! No, Professor Davila warned us away from them. What threw me were the pads. They make it hard to see what's actually going on, anatomy-wise."

She almost regretted that the instant she said it, because she could imagine all of the lewd comments she had just set herself up for.

That didn't happen. All that happened was that Mustache-guy nodded solemnly and Captain Jack glanced over to make sure he didn't need to come over and apologize for something.

"I see. It must be like trying to draw the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man."

"Close enough." She didn't laugh, but she did let a hint of a smile show through the unimpressed look.

"By the way, you can call me Shitty. That's not my real name, but that's actually worse."

"Hey, Shits!" Jack called out. "Ask her if she's interested in the team manager job!"

"Team manager? Like managing your team? The hockey team?" she asked Shitty. Strangely, the name fit him, but not in a bad way.

Shitty nodded.

"I don't know how to skate!" she shouted at Jack.

Jack stared at her as if she had just sprouted two extra heads and a tail. 

Shitty cackled. 

Johnson, who had been hanging around doing not much of anything, muttered something about not being needed after all and left the rink.

Shitty wiped away teas of laughter. "Aw... I think you broke Jack's poor, Canadian brain. Anyhow, skating isn't needed for the job. Dealing with stinky hockey equipment, on the other hand, is."

She shrugged. "It can't be worse than what I smell like after working the deep-fryer all afternoon. What's the pay like?" she asked, because being practical did have its time and place.

The pay wasn't much, but it was better than what the dining hall offered. 

"Well, I'd say this was a successful drawing session," she said as they exchanged fist-bumps. 

"Yup. Here's to happy accidents!"