#like wow. girl none of your organs work right. what gives

[crimeronan]

i seem to finally be coming off a flare that's lasted....... fuck knows how long. most of the month at least. i woke up today only wheezing a little and not having a headache even before taking my meds. took a heavy-duty anti-inflammatory just now to kill the remaining symptoms, i'm gonna do some dishes and then go pick up yet Another prescription for More heavy-duty anti-inflammatory drugs, bc that's my life now. send prayers or good vibes into the universe that i have more than a day or two of freedom from The Hellfires. i need this So Fucking Bad.

[sunny44]

Bye bye binky!!

Pairing: Lando Norris x Mom!Fem! Reader

Warnings: none I guess and English is not my first language

Summary: You and Lando are trying to get rid of your daughter’s binky.

The Norris household was in constant motion as always. Lyla, at two years old, was a curious and energetic child, always running from one side to the other, dragging her toys and, of course, her inseparable pacifier.

For Lando and me, the mission to get her to stop using the pacifier was becoming a saga.

Lando was sitting at the kitchen table, looking pensively at a list of methods we had thought of.

“What else can we try? It seems like we’ve done everything.”

I stopped washing the dishes and sighed, looking at him.

“I think we’ve tried all the possible advice. Let’s review?” Lando picked up the list and started reading.

“First, we tried the pacifier fairy approach.”

The Pacifier Fairy

One quiet night, Lyla was getting ready for bed. I sat next to her with a storybook.

“Lyla, did you know there’s a pacifier fairy?” I said excitedly as she looked at me curiously.

“A pacifier fairy?”

“Yes,” I replied. “She visits big boys and girls and takes their pacifiers to babies who need them. In return, she leaves a special gift.”

Lyla’s eyes sparkled. “A gift?”

“That’s right. How about leaving your pacifier under the pillow tonight?”

Lyla hesitated but ended up placing the pacifier under the pillow. The next morning, she found a small new toy in place of the pacifier, but the magic didn’t last. When night came, Lyla cried for the pacifier, and Lando and I ended up giving it back to her.

The Reward Calendar

The second attempt involved a colorful calendar on the fridge. Each day Lyla went without the pacifier, she would get a star sticker. After a week, she would get a big prize.

“Lyla, look how many stars you’ve already earned!” Lando said, pointing to the calendar.

Lyla smiled proudly.

“Wow, and o get a prize?”

“Yes, if you keep it up!” I replied, excited.

But halfway through the week, Lyla had a crying fit so intense that we had to give in again, giving her the pacifier.

The Substitution

Trying a new method, we decided to buy several toys and stuffed animals to offer as new comfort items for her.

“Look, Lyla, a new teddy bear!” I said, showing the brown teddy bear.

Lyla took the teddy bear but quickly dropped it and went back to the pacifier.

“I want my binky, Mommy.”

We tried various different toys, but nothing seemed to offer the same comfort as the pacifier for Lyla.

The Gradual Approach

We decided to adopt a gradual approach.

“Let’s limit the use of the pacifier to just bedtime,” suggested Lando.

“Good idea,” I agreed. “That way, she can get used to it slowly.”

During the day, we put the pacifier away and distracted Lyla with games and activities. However, each night, the separation was met with tears and whining. Once again, we found ourselves giving the pacifier to calm her down.

The Distraction Tactic

The last attempt involved constant distractions. Whenever Lyla asked for the pacifier, we offered some fun activity.

“Let’s paint a picture, Lyla?” I suggested, holding a set of watercolors.

For a while, this worked, but Lyla soon began to insist on the pacifier, even in the middle of activities.

Lando sighed as he finished reading the list.

“None of this worked.”

I approached him, placing my hand on Lando’s shoulder.

“I think it’s time to try something new. Something that will really make Lyla want to say goodbye to the pacifier on her own.”

And that’s how we came up with the balloon idea. The hope was that by turning the farewell into a celebration, Lyla would better accept the change. With a final sigh of determination, Lando and I prepared for the final attempt.

“Tomorrow morning I’ll go out to buy donuts for breakfast, which she loves, and the balloon. Then we’ll do it,” Lando said, and I agreed, finishing organizing the kitchen so we could go to bed.

…

The morning sun lit up our house, and the day was perfect for a celebration. Lando and I were sitting on the floor, surrounded by toys and building blocks. Lyla was beside us, firmly holding her pacifier. We had already planned everything. I arranged the donuts on a tray so that when she let go and the pacifier was gone, she would have something she loved to eat and perhaps help her forget.

“Lyla, look!” Lando said, kneeling beside our daughter. “How about we send your binky to the sky? So it can travel around and see new places.”

Lyla looked at the balloon and then at the pacifier, holding it even tighter.

“Daddy, I like my binky.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Lando replied softly, stroking Lyla’s hair. “But you’re a big girl now. And big girls don’t need a binky, right? Besides, it’ll be so much fun to watch the balloon fly!”

Lyla hesitated, but the idea of seeing the balloon rise seemed interesting. Finally, she let go of the pacifier and allowed Lando to tie it to the balloon. Lando handed the balloon to Lyla and smiled.

“Ready to let go, Lyla?” Lyla held the balloon with both hands, her eyes fixed on it.

“Ready.”

With one last look of hesitation, she let go of the balloon. We watched as it slowly rose higher and higher into the blue sky. For a moment, everything seemed fine, but then Lyla looked like she was about to cry—we could see her lips trembling. But then Lando and I started jumping and shouting with joy.

“Woohoo! Bye-bye, binky!” shouted Lando, raising his arms.

“You did it, Lyla! How amazing!” I shouted, clapping.

Lyla looked at her parents, surprised by their reaction. Slowly, a smile began to form on her face. She stood up and started jumping too, imitating her parents.

“Woohoo! Bye-bye, binky!” she repeated, laughing.

We continued to jump and laugh together, our joy spreading to Lyla. Gradually, she forgot about the pacifier and focused on the fun of the moment.

After a few minutes, we stopped to catch our breath, still laughing. Lando picked Lyla up and hugged her.

“I’m so proud of you, Lyla. You are very brave.” I joined the hug, kissing Lyla’s forehead.

“You did something amazing today, sweetheart. We are very happy.”

Lyla smiled, feeling proud.

“Does this mean I’m a big girl now?”

“Yes, you are,” Lando agreed, stroking her head.

After a few minutes, we went inside to eat the donuts and celebrate that we had finally said goodbye to the pacifier.

Bonus scene!

Landonorris instagram stories

“Bye Bye Lyla’s binky”

[co6kiesvr]

summary: xavier is tired of you avoiding him

genre: angst

days, it’s been days since you’ve last talked to xavier. it’s not that you’re in a fight, or you hate him or something. but you’ve just been so caught up in this case you’re working on, that you couldn’t find the time to talk to him.

the only people you’ve been talking to are the dead. you’ve had this ability since you were a kid, you’ve made connections with them, and they’ve been helping you with this case.

your brain couldn’t focus on anything other than that, you needed to find out who the monster was. you needed to find out why this monster is killing innocent people. you needed to know everything

and here you were in your room, working on the case, pictures of dead bodies, evidence and papers scattered all around the room. your friend avery, a girl who had died at birth, and also a close friend of yours, was sat there as well, helping you collect your thoughts.

a knock on the door was heard, you turned to see none other than xavier entering the room. your roommate wasn’t around, and avery left when she heard the knock, so it was just you and him

“hey” he said, looking around the room as he saw the stuff, “still working on the case, huh?”

“uh, yeah.” you said, “avery helped as well”

“mhm…so um, do you wanna maybe pause this for a second and go on a walk with me?”

“what? of course not!” you said in a rather rude tone

“what?” he said, a little hurt by the tone

“i’m busy” you said as you kept organizing your work

“are you serious right now?” he furrowed his eyebrows, “you—you haven’t talked to me in almost a week…come on y/n are you seriously gonna reject me just because of some case that you have nothing to do with?”

you continued doing your work, not responding

“wow. you really—do you even care?!” he snapped

“about what” you said

“about—about me! about…us, do you even care about that?! you really live in your own world. the cops have this handled and you just wanna include yourself for no reason. i’m trying, i’m really trying to wait for you, and be patient. but you don’t seem to give two fucks if i’m even here or not! i’m not doing this anymore, i’m done.” he said, and you froze

you froze as you heard his footsteps fading, you froze as you realized a hole in your heart was forming, you froze when the case you were working on was not a care in your mind anymore, you froze when you realized…he left you. he left you and you were the reason.

xavier really was patient with you, at first, you would talk to him often, then you started talking to him at the end of the day, then you’d talk to him every other day, and then—you wouldn’t talk to him at all.

it’s funny how you don’t realize how important someone is, until they’re gone.

for the very first time, you felt alone.

like actually alone, you’d usually have avery, or another friend with you, but most of the time, you had xavier, and now he wasn’t coming back.

you felt tears brimming in the corners of your eyes, you had never cried before, let alone over a boy

but he was special.

you got up and ran after him, only he was now probably back in his room.

but nonetheless, you ran to his room, and knocked on his door repeatedly until he opened it

“jesus im coming—y/n?” he said, going quiet

you went inside his room, and once he got a good look at you, he knew

“oh my god are you crying?” he said as he gently grabbed your face, wiping your tears

“i’m sorry” you cried out, and he was quick to hug you, “i’m sorry i was just focused on the case and—“

“hey, hey it’s okay.” he said as he stroked your hair

you looked up at him, and soon your lips collided.

once you let go, you were quick to speak

“you were right. i’m dropping the case, the cops have it handled and i should’ve just—“

“no” he said

“what?”

“i’m not telling you to drop the case, baby. i love that you’re working on it and trying to keep everyone safe. but we work on it, together. i cant have you getting hurt” he said as he gently rubbed your cheek with his thumb

“really?”

“of course” he smiled

you might act tough on the outside, but on the inside, you truly loved him.

[ichabodjane]

Identity and Self-Determination for Human!Halbrand, Bronwyn, and the Southlanders

Guys this is such a long post, I have so many thoughts, I tried to keep them organized but idk how well I did. Also this post was partially inspired by a fascinating convo with @demi-lancer so go check that blog out, too!

Disclaimer: I love all the theory posts about Saubrand, I think both the writers and Charlie Vickers have done a great job of keeping things open to interpretation. But I’m going forward here with the assumption that Halbrand is 100% USDA Certified Grade A Manflesh.

Tl;dr: Human!Halbrand and the Southlanders are interesting to me precisely because they are "just some dudes" trying to forge an identity against all the craziness in Middle Earth. Our two main Southlander protagonists, Halbrand and Bronwyn, aren't heroes because of special powers, they're heroes because they show up and do the work to give their people a shot at making their own fate.

RoP makes heavy use of the themes of identity and self-determination, which are important themes in the Tolkien Legendarium generally. Naming yourself, naming others, or being named BY others…this has real consequences in Arda for the fortunes of both individuals and sociopolitical groups.

The Southlanders are struggling to forge their own path and their own identity. Their ancestors tried to do it by casting their lot with Morgoth but that didn’t work out very well. By the time we’re introduced to their society, they have been denied their right to identity and self-determination for quite a long time. The elves have been keeping a close eye on them (maybe limiting their movements?) and both elves and Numenoreans look down on them as a whole. They’ve also been denied access to the elven affluence and resources that the Numenoreans have had. For example, Halbrand has clearly never seen anything like the giant Numenorean statues before and he’s so blown away just by being in a prosperous city built by humans. (And then Galadriel’s just like “these men are not like you” wow girl, ouch, okay then.)

Not only have the Southlanders been under elven control for generations but they then have Adar and Co showing up to completely remove their agency by killing or enslaving them and destroying the land they live on. Bronwyn’s heroic journey starts because she stands up against this. She rallies who she can because screw you, you don’t get to just waltz in and demand we bend the knee and sacrifice those rights or our lives to you. Even if Adar and Co have faced similar mistreatment, they don’t get to claim their own rights by taking away others’ (a topic for another post).

And when the villagers return home to prepare for that last battle, what do they do? Pop an orc head on a pike. That’s a powerful message: you try to take this from us and we will fight back.

We see this struggle happening on an individual level with Halbrand in the way he names himself vs being named by others and the ways in which he compromises safety for identity. 

Halbrand is evasive about his past (I think partially for safety and partially because of the shameful and/or painful memories there) but he is very clear about his name. When he and Galadriel enter the throne room, Miriel only addresses Galadriel (giving her agency to name herself) but he adds his name in there, too. 

Tamar the Guildsman is in the room, hears Halbrand’s name, but later either forgets or pretends to forget. Instead he just calls him “low man” repeatedly, showing again how the Southlanders are defined and thus limited by others. At first, Halbrand is evasive because Tamar is clearly trying to intimidate. But once confrontation is inevitable, Halbrand makes sure to repeat his name before smacking Tamar into the wall. (Apparently Halbrand is unaware of the effect of head trauma on memory formation but hey none of us are perfect.)

Halbrand also holds onto the king sigil/amulet (omg what is in that pouch, bro, is it the blood your ancestor swore on?) despite its threat to his plan of outrunning his past. It clearly means something in his community; Bronwyn recognizes it immediately. It’s unique enough that Galadriel can dig up its backstory at her local public library. So if he’s trying to disappear, why hold onto this thing? Because it’s crucial to his identity and in the end he’s not willing to give that up. In fact, he does the opposite: he takes it back to the Southlands in an effort to use the identity it creates to save his society. 

I’m really excited to follow Halbrand and Bronwyn’s stories as they/their society wrestle with the legacy of past decisions while at the same time struggling just to survive day-to-day. Clearly Halbrand has done some things that he now really regrets. I think his family has probably been closely tied to the cult of Morgoth/Sauron and inter-human conflict in the region (he had to get that combat experience somewhere). Also I just can't stop thinking about the sheer amount of strong chains Adar and Co used to enslave people and the fact that Halbrand is a smith. And if everyone I knew got killed by the person I made chains for OR put in the chains I made? I'd run, too.

Now Halbrand is trying to counteract that past by stepping up to lead and protect his community from essentially the threat of extinction. Bronwyn is on a similar journey, though it seems that her personal past is less dicey. Neither of them have the powers of elves or the advantages of Numenoreans. They’re just regular people who grew up in a troubled area that recently gained A LOT MORE problems. While they have allies like Arondir, Galadriel, and some of Numenor, it’s still down to them to keep their people alive and find a new home now that agriculture in the Southlands is uuhhhhhh probably impossible. 

This also sets us up for future wraith!Halbrand (as much as it grieves me to say). Because after struggling against these insane magical forces and seeing so many of your people suffer and die, of course you’re gonna make use of whatever tools might help level the playing field. Like a magical ring of power. In this way, Halbrand isn’t so much an Aragorn parallel as he is a Boromir parallel.

But before the inevitable tragedy, I’m hoping we get to see Halbrand and Bronwyn working together to lead their people to a safer place where they can shed the dark legacies of the past and create both a new identity and a new path for the people who were the Southlanders.

[fragileizywriting]

Day 12 - Coming Dry

It is three in the morning, Adrien’s had his tongue in her mouth for thirty minutes, and her clit is throbbing. Absolutely throbbing. What the Hell. What the absolute Hell. How’d she even get here? It’s so early. Adrien himself should be asleep, curled up around his only, miserable pillow, dreaming about something regal and princelike— how did the two of them find each other in the middle of the night, pressed up against one another, swapping spit like a couple of teenagers in the middle of Elysium instead? Oh, god. Her panties.

She can’t even hear the music because she’s too busy thinking about how wet her panties are. Wow! Oh, furthermore, she can’t focus on the wetness, because the bass of the music— Nino picked this one on purpose, he must’ve— is making her vibrate in her seat, and her clit— oh, her clit…

No one blame her for wanting to scream.

She’d gotten off of the dancefloor to get some water, because dancing, especially with Adrien, works up a sweat. Adrien had followed, hungry eyes and deadshot shadow, practically swallowing her alive with that look he’d given her when she’d flagged Luka down for a cup of something light. Refreshing. Something that would give her a reason to stop looking at her jittering hands, her wobbly fingers, her singing, stinging skin, because she’s caught him in her web, and instead of fighting it, Adrien had aquieced. He’s hers.

Uh oh.

Her cup is on the counter, left untouched, and instead of her lipstick smearing on the rim of the glass, it’s all over him instead. Red is such a gorgeous color on dark honeyed skin, and wears it like jewels, even as he licks his lips with greed, fangs huge, like he’s the succubus instead, and he’s caught himself a meal for the night.

How did this even happen?

“You okay?” he asks, mouth swollen with bruises.

“Fine!” she chirps. Her mouth must be worse. Adrien kisses like he’s trying to win a competiton, and ever since he found out that she has a gland at the back of her throat that she takes advantage of similar to a G-Spot whenever she gives them a blowjob, it’s been his life purpose to make her buzz in arousal.

Like here.

Like now.

“You sure?”

“Absolutely!”

“You sure?” he asks again, that smirk of his turning salacious when he looks down to her thighs squished and pressed together. 

Oh, damn him, he knows. He knows, he knows, he knows. Of course he knows. Why wouldn’t he know? They’ve been dating for years, now. Even before then, he knew that the glimmering blush on her skin was only one thing: sex-brained, ditzy lust, something lethal that hooks her insides and rips through her organs until she can’t even breathe. Right now, the sense of orgasm is right at the pit of her stomache, starting to hurt with how much pressure she puts on herself. It’s so, so good, but just painful enough for her to squeak when Adrien pulls away to drink the glass of water set out for her.

“Everything’s fine,” she huffs.

“Good to know.” He follows it with a wink. “Here I thought you were getting itchy— but you’re a good girl, right? No need to get itchy, because you’re not thinking of anything dirty, right?”

Should she play along? Is this what he wants? Does he want to toy with her? She knows that demons like to play with their prey before eating, but she’s the succubus. She loves edging Adrien until swallowing whole, but— but— but— but this just isn’t fair, not with her sitting her, whimpering for his touch, for release— “Hah—”

“Good girl,” he cooes.

Fine. Fine. She can… she can do this. “I’m a good girl.”

“My perfect girl.”

“Your perfect girl,” she repeats, whimpering at the gentle touch on the collarbones. Can’t he see that her nipples are hard under her dress? Why doesn’t he do anything about that?

Anyway, why is he even talking? Who gave him permission to pull away and start talking? There are many other things he could be doing at the moment, and none of them require this. How about he keeps his hands on her waist? Or better yet, why doesn’t he scoot over, make room on his thighs for her to sit right on them? She needs to borrow a thigh. Just one. He won’t mind the mess she’ll make on his slacks, she knows it, and that rising heartbeat in her cunt is sign that she needs to act fast or else she’s going to left tearing off Elysium’s bathroom wallpaper with sexual tension.

“Adri—hmmnmm—” she cuts herself off when that hand of his, huge and sinful, grabs her waist again and melts her into his skin. She can feel his own arousal under his slacks touching her on the belly, thick and heavy and staining the roof of her mouth into something syrupy and sweet, but it’s an afterthought— and afterthought!— to the teeth against her neck. He bruises her with those fangs, almost daring her to move so he can tear through skin, murmuring against her throat about how much he adores her. Needs her. Breathes for her. Everything she wants to do is abated by him; every move of her hand across the counter is stopped by a giant fist made around her wrist, trapping her in place; every kick of her leg brings her heeled feet over his thighs; every gasp is swallowed by a dark murmur of his own. 

This might as well be public sex, the way he’s defiling her.

Oh!

Christ!

The epilectic lights of the club are scattering any thoughts she has— of public decency— of respectable attention to their boyfriend on the other side of the countertop who no doubt is having the time of his life watching her go limp in a demon’s grasp— of even remembering what her name is. All she can think about is that breath. That gasp. That snarl wrapped around her throat like a jewel, one that promises to keep her forever. He finds her lips again and their teeth click and she’s absolutely a gonner with the way she sighs and flutters her eyes. This just can’t be beat.

“Touch me,” she begs, pulling away to grab one of his hands.

“No.”

“Please.”

“No,” he replies, simply and honestly, though the flash of teeth as he smiles shows that he’s teasing her. There’s a thumb on her mouth. Pressing in. She opens her mouth and sucks on his digit, just on instinct, whining against his fingernail. “Why would I do that, Baby? You want to come?”

“Adrien, plea—”

She does when he reaches further with his thumb, bruising the gland all the way at the back of her throat. Bullseye…

Christ.

Her nails dig into his slacks as her poor, neglected clit continues to buzz in anticipation, while her cunt seizes slowly and softly, forced orgasming at out of nowhere. It’s liquidy. It’s intense. It’s so messy that there’s a pitter-patter on the tile in between them as she comes, staining the insides of her thigh glittery and gold from syrup. She could cry. Maybe she already is. Oh, god.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, when her legs are wobbling like bambi, and she can’t stop whining.

[psychedelic-ink]

Writers' Iron Chef #10: Dreaming of Chandeliers

[PROMPT] Half the names on the list have already been crossed off.

[TIME LIMIT] Optional, 10 minutes prep. time 30 minutes writing time Optional, 10 minutes editing time

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Summary: The interviews for the live in nanny job are a nightmare, luckily the next applicant, Frankie Morales, sweeps in to save the day.

word count: 695

a/n: written for Writers' Iron Chef prompt #10

This is my first time joining one of these and I'm so happy to join <33 While trying to come up with something this was originally going to be about a female hitman meeting frankie and them trying to navigate a relationship buuut for some reason I couldn't really find the right words and got stuck in my head so that story shifted into this one-- Enjoy!

Half the names on the list have already been crossed off. 

Every interview is worse than the one before. None of the people you questioned so far seems like they can take care of an eight year old girl. You need someone fun, someone who gets along with kids. Not a teenager who’s smoked himself to the point that they can’t even form a sentence. And the others, well, they didn’t really give you that surge of relief you were hoping to get. You assume you would know the person was right just by looking at them. At least that was what you’d initially hoped for. But your search for a live-in nanny was proving to be much harder. 

Eyes flickering back to the list, you observe the next name; Francisco Morales and as soon as you do, there’s a knock on the door. 

When you open the door, the breath is violently sucked out of your lungs. He’s nothing like the other applicants. He’s older, handsome. There’s whites and grays mixed in his patchy beard and he’s wearing a ballcap that hides the soft brown curls. He meets your gaze, lips breaking into a sincere smile. Wow. 

“Hi, I’m here for the live-in nanny job, Frankie Morales,” 

“Uh, yeah, right through here,” 

You lead him to the living room and gesture to the couch, “Have a seat, would you like anything? Water, coffee?” 

“No, thank you,” a soft chuckle parts his lips as he sits. “By looking at you I’m assuming I’m not what you were hoping for,” 

“It’s not that, I would have to interview you first to see if you’re right for the job or not. I just wasn’t expecting someone so–” 

“Old?” 

Your lips curve into an awkward grin, gaze focusing on the corner of his smile. You part your own lips to retaliate but he beats you to it. 

“Before you say anything, I’m great with kids. Have multiple references and well, my reasoning is that kids just really make me happy,” when he notices your sole eyebrow raising, he waves his hands with panic. “Oh god, that– I didn’t mean– I’m an ex air force pilot and there aren’t a lot of job opportunities, and the jobs that I can apply to don’t really make me…feel good, if that makes sense?” 

It does. But instead of voicing the thought out, you continue to observe him. A military man. That means he’s organized, and god knows that you need some stability in your life. He has nothing else going on, which means that his only focus would be on the house and your daughter. That’s a definite plus. No school, no fancy dreams. 

Frankie removes the ball cap and cards his hair back, a slight tremble to his fingers. He seems to be the best candidate so far. And the fact that he’s good looking had nothing to do with it. Absolutely not. This is just that feeling you were waiting for. The feeling that others failed to give you. A feeling of security. 

“Well, Frankie–” you smile in hopes to ease his nerves. “I’ll be calling your references first and after that we’ll have a week trial period to see how you get along with Margot. Does that sound good?” 

“Yeah,” 

“Great, I’ll call you tonight so we can discuss when you’ll be coming in. I’m not working tomorrow so if everything pans out you can come over and we can get you settled in,” 

“Sounds great, thank you…” his sentence fades, you two exchange glances and you realize he’s waiting for you to give him your name. 

“Miss Clementine,” 

He smiles, nods and gets up, “Very nice to meet you, I’ll be waiting for your call. Have a good day,” 

“The pleasure’s all mine, Mister Morales,” 

When he leaves you feel giddy. Excited. Which are things you shouldn’t be feeling. With a sigh, you sit back down and pick up the paper to call his references. You’re surprised to see more than five names written down. Impressive indeed. Most of the people you talked to had their mom’s as references. 

With a stuttered breath, you make the call. 

[headoverheelsforramsey]

Dil Na Jaaneya ~ The Heart Doesn't Know

Book : Open Heart Book 1 (Set between ch. 10 & 11)

Pairing : Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Meera Bose)

Summary : Tensions run high between Ethan and Meera as a Valentine's Day Compatibility Quiz bring their feelings to the surface.

Category : Fluffy Angst

Warnings : None

Rating : General

Word Count : 3808 (this is longer than I wanted it to be but it'll be worth it I promise)

Trope : Valentine's Day, Pining

A/N 1 : Valentine's fic in September who am I? 😂 This is a request from dearest Ruby @starrystarrytrouble from this prompt list, still accepting requests if y'all want to send some in. Thank you so much for sending it, the prompt will appear in bold. ❤️

A/N 2 : This fic is inspired by Never Have I Ever season 3 episode 3, if you have watched it you know exactly what I am talking about. This is also my late submission for @choices-september-challenge-blog Day 2 : Cliffhanger Ending. Buckle up and get ready for the Angst, Happy Reading! 💜

Song inspo for title :

Out of all the things in the world Meera certainly did not expect the burst of pink, red, glitter, roses and balloons all over the hospital lobby when she stepped into it for a twelve hour shift. It was too early for all the cheer of celebrating a consumerist and frankly stupid holiday and she didn't need the reminder of being single. Well not exactly single, after the Miami conference but it was complicated to say the least.

Pushing all such thoughts away, Meera mentally prepared herself for a long shift because such holidays tend to bring out the stupidity in people and the hospitals have a field day, also being an intern she didn't have the luxury of staying in bed all day and finishing three pints of ice-cream like she would very much have liked to.

Putting on her best pre-coffee smile Meera approached the nurses' station to log in for the day. Marlene handed her several case files and a glittery pink envelope with a heart in the center and her name printed in bold elegant letters.

"What's this?" Meera asked, intrigued.

"Oh! You remember that HR evaluation sheet everybody had to fill out a couple of weeks back?" Marlene said clearly excited.

"Uh-huh."

"Well, it wasn't actually for HR. It was a compatibility test to see who you are most compatible with among the entire EB staff!"

"Wow!" Meera put on a fake smile clearly not being able to understand the enthusiasm behind this.

"I know! Right? The nurses organized it, I mean we all work so hard we should get the opportunity to play as hard right? Listen," Marlene leaned in conspiratorially, "just let me know, who you got there and I'll give him your number. You gotta loosen up girl! Go out, have some fun!"

"Thanks Marlene, I'll be sure to let you know," Meera smiled back, moving away from the nurses' station and heaving a sigh of relief as soon as she turned away.

"So now we are getting scammed at work?" Meera walked into the locker room, clearly frustrated.

"Yup, the day isn't far when they'll make us sign bonds for our organs in the name of HR evaluations," Jackie scoffed while tying her shoes.

"Exactly! I mean please let just agree that this quiz is stupid and it's like a bunch of high school crap."

"I think it's sweet," Sienna said, "Look who I got!" she said excitedly, passing the card to Meera.

Your Perfect Match is : DANNY CARDINAL (78% compatible)

"OMG Si! Way to go!" Meera enveloped her fellow dolphin in a hug.

"Hey Sienna," Danny's voice makes them break apart. "I got you too!" he said smiling from ear to ear.

"Really?" Sienna managed to say, as colours rose to her cheeks.

"Aww, look at you two!" Meera was so happy for her friend.

"Whatever, dude," Jackie rolled her eyes. "I still think it's stupid."

"Actually, it's quite scientific, this quiz was made on the basis of a study conducted by MIT researchers on human behavior and psychology," Danny informed.

"I don't think it's stupid," Landry now joined in the conversation. "See, who I got," he held up his card for everyone to see :

Your Perfect Match is : ETHAN RAMSEY (53% compatible)

Meera's eyes went wide and she could not help but feel a pang of jealousy hammer against her heart. The others in the locker room also went still with shock.

"I mean he is my medical idol, and I think he'll appreciate the scientific compatibility that is between the two of us," Landry rambled on alone.

"You know what, I think I'll show this to him today and maybe ask…" suddenly conscious of the silent locker room and everyone's eyes on him, Landry shoved the card inside his scrub pocket and awkwardly left the room.

"Wow, that was a surprise," Sienna broke the silence with a concerned look at Meera.

"Yeah, he actually rigged the test," Danny said.

"He did what?" the jealousy in Meera's heart slowly dying down.

"He actually bribed one of the nurses to get into Dr. Ramsey's answers and tried to match it up," Danny informed once again.

"See another reason why this is dumb," Jackie bit into her apple.

"Anyways, Si, if you are free tonight, maybe…" Danny paused clearly looking nervous, "we can get drinks?"

Meera could see the happiness in Sienna's eyes.

"Sorry Danny, I have plans with Wayne tonight," Sienna answered, unable to look at him directly. "But let's reschedule? First round on me!"

"Sure, of course," Danny smiled, "I'll get back to work."

"You okay, Si?" Meera asked as she plopped on the bench.

After taking a few deep breaths Sienna answered, "yeah, but enough about me, tell me who you got?"

"Me? Si that's not necessary."

"Yes Bose, I want to know too," Jackie smirked.

"It's no one… I don't even know him…"

"Now you are making me even more intrigued."

Jackie's words seemed to corner Meera as she desperately searched her brain for an answer.

"Hey, hey, what's up everybody?" Bryce's jovial voice, seemed to dissipate the tension.

"Ugh, how many times do I have to tell you this is a no scalpel jockey zone," Jackie rolled her eyes.

"Jokes on you because I am not alone today, meet my friend Lucas."

Meera looked upto see a pair of chocolate brown eyes looking deep into hers. On eye contact Lucas looked down shyly, that’s when Meera took in the man’s physique. Well built, almost at the same height as Bryce and brown locks adorning the forehead.

“Go on buddy,” Bryce patted his back encouragingly.

Lucas approached Meera and handed her the now familiar envelope. Confused, Meera opened it to reveal :

Your Perfect Match is : MEERA BOSE (85% compatible)

“Just a heads up, Lucas here has had a crush on you since the beginning, but never got the courage to approach you, and you know with the impersonation of cupid that I am, I couldn’t sit with my arms folded,”Bryce gloated.

Lucas looked up hopefully at her. Suddenly aware of all the eyes boring into her, Meera did the only thing her brain could come up with.

“Lucas!!” Meera put on the biggest smile she possibly could. “You know, I got you too,” she turned to look at Jackie. “What a coincidence.”

“Really?” Lucas’s smile could light up a village, “Listen, if it’s okay with you… would you… like…” Lucas gulpped “like… to… go out with me… tonight?“

Oh shit! Meera thought, what else was she expecting? Come on brain think of something. Just as she was about to open her mouth Lucas’ pager went off.

“Sorry!” he hurriedly looked at it. “I need to go,” he smiled leaving the rest of the interns.

“So? What do you think Bose? Did I do a good job?” Bryce winked.

“Sure,” Jackie answered instead, “he looked like he would suffer an aneurysm, if Meera said no. I just don’t see how they are compatible, again more proof that this whole thing is stupid.”

“Its not stupid, and I am going to prove it to you,” Bryce handed his card to Jackie.

Jackie skimmed over it and handed it over to Meera with a dry laugh. “Good luck meathead, you’re gonna need it.”

Your Perfect Match is : INES DELAROSA (69% compatible)

“But Ines is… “ Sienna tried to warn Bryce but Jackie’s one look made her stop.

Ines poked her head into the locker room, “guys rounds in ten.”

“Hey, Ines,” Bryce leaned against the door frame. "I know, I should start with Dr. Delarosa but let's just skip beating round the bush. So you know this little compatibility test going around the hospital?" Bryce handed her his card and a very shocked Ines accepted it. "What do you say to a little wine and dine tonight?" Bryce completes with a bow.

"Wow!" Ines is still a little dumbfounded. "I am going to try to make this as gentle as possible, Dr. Lahela I hate to break it to you I am gay."

"Wh-what?"

"And even if I wasn't, you wouldn't be my type," Ines handed him his card back and left with a polite smile.

"Damn!" Sienna said.

"He certainly did not expect that," Meera laughed as Bryce still could not comprehend what had just happened.

"She is joking right? Playing hard to get?"

"No, meathead," Jackie hit his arm playfully. "That's why I said this whole thing is just stupid."

Bryce watched Jackie intently. "Who did you get Varma?"

"How is that relevant?" Jackie became defensive at once.

"You have been against this quiz the whole time and it makes me very intrigued to know who is on your card."

"So what? Bose thinks it is stupid too."

"Yeah but we know her perfect match, yours though remains a mystery."

"And that's the way it'll stay," Jackie tries to make a run for it but Bryce easily blocks her and plucks the card out from her white coat pocket.

"Hey! Give that back!" as Jackie protested, Bryce tossed the card towards Meera who opened it at once :

Your Perfect Match is : HARPER EMERY (77% compatible)

"Jackie! This is good," Meera exclaimed. "She is smart, intelligent, attractive and totally your type why are you hiding this?"

"Yeah but she is Harper Emery," Jackie plucked the card out of Meera's hand. "Like the Harper Emery, chief of medicine, our boss. Do you think it's ever going to work out?"

Meera knew that was a rhetorical question but boy did it hit home.

"Yeah she is smart, intelligent and attractive but I don't even know if she likes women? And I am not about to embarrass myself like Lahela here," Jackie rolled her eyes.

"Aww, Jackie!" Sienna started approaching her.

"Don't try to hug me Trinh," Jackie warned. "Let's just get to work and get over with today."

As the interns slowly emptied the locker room. Meera could not help but look at her own envelope. Intrigued, she had opened it on the elevator itself and the name on it had left her speechless. With a deep breath she opened it once again :

Your Perfect Match is : ETHAN RAMSEY (98% compatible)

She moved her fingers over his name as memories of Miami seeped back in. She dried off the single tear that escaped, before securely putting the envelope in her locker and putting on her white coat.

As the day moved on the cheer of Valentine's Day didn't seem to die down. Patients had caught onto the compatibility quiz and pestered to know the answer for every doctor they met. The gossip and rumor mill was actively running with all sorts of news.

Meera had just finished a consult and was discussing the case with Sienna when she spotted him. Standing at the nurses' station, frustration clearly marked all over his face, trying to make quick work of the charts he is signing. But what happened next kept the entire hospital reeling.

"Dr. Ramsey…" Landry approached Ethan.

"Yes?" he said without looking up from his chart.

"So… you must have heard about the compatibility test going around the hospital today?" Obtaining no reaction from Ethan whatsoever Landry continued, "you know it's developed by MIT researchers and… it's highly scientific." Landry stopped to inhale, "and I know how much you… love… scientific analysis, so…" he then tried to open his envelope and takeout his card but dropped it and another couple of charts instead.

After muttering a curse under his breath he stooped down to pick it up. When he finally stood again, he saw Ethan's blue eyes staring into his, expression unreadable as always.

"So…" Landry extended his card with shaking hands, "I just wanted… to… let you know… scientifically you and… I… are compatible," he stopped to see if there was any change in expression, but it remained the same.

"And if you… umm you… you…" as Landry grasped for his next words, Ethan Ramsey cleared his throat.

"Are you done with this? Dr…" his heavy baritone voice making the entire hospital silent.

"Olsen," Landry completed in a timid voice, handing him his card.

"I can take this off your hands," Ethan takes the card and rips it off in half and that half in another half until nothing but pieces of paper remain scattered on the floor. "Your hands were so full with that you seemed to have lost track of your actual duty, what you are paid to do," he said handing atleast two dozen case files to Landry. "These are your assigned cases for the day, I want them all done before you leave the hospital premises today, get back to work Dr…"

"Olsen," Landry's voice now so small he himself couldn't hear it.

"Yes, Olsen, get back to work, you have a long day ahead."

With that Ethan Ramsey made his way towards the elevator leaving behind a shocked, silent audience of hospital staffs. But not before he stole a glance at the familiar brown eyes, and curly hair. Before his eyes could wander further down her body, he schooled his features and left.

Ethan walked into his office. The heavy glass doors cutting off the hospital noises and providing him respite from the horrendous holiday being celebrated all over. He sighed at the sight of the pink envelope peeking from the middle of his stack of paperwork.

He wanted to throw it away, tear it even but he found his heart betraying his brain as he reached for the envelope and put it securely on his inner left coat pocket. The envelope now rested over his heart, ironically mocking the person he is slowly growing to be.

He could hear her infectious laughter, echoing from the walls of the abandoned new wing of the hospital. Ethan stopped at the threshold of Naveen's cabin, drawing in a breath, he put on a professional face.

"Keep it down Naveen, you are going to give away our secret hiding spot."

"I can't," Naveen doubled down with laughter, "you have to listen to what this Lahela guy did today!"

As Naveen and Meera share another laugh, Ethan rolled his eyes. "Any new updates, Dr. Bose?"

"Yes!" Meera quickly goes back to her game face, "the oxygen level seems to improve and so does the sodium-potassium levels, I think we should stick to this treatment plan for a few more days."

"Boring!" Naveen comments as Meera hands over the tablet for Ethan to review. "Give me more details Meera, who did the others get on their compatibility test?"

"You seem interested enough," Ethan says nonchalantly.

"Ofcourse I am! I might be in the hospital but I miss all the shenanigans and gossip! You know, Meera if I was still there, I bet I would have atleast a dozen matches!"

"Sure Dr. Banerji," Meera chuckled, "I am sure you have a lot of game."

"Yes I do! And I believe to pass some of it onto my mentee as well but he seems to not enjoy it. Please tell me Ethan, I'm fortunate enough to know who is on your card?"

"No."

"You are no fun! Meera here is gonna share with us. Won't you dear?"

Meera's heart skipped a beat, she nervously sneeked a glance at Ethan. He seemed engrossed in the chart but she could swear he looked up to meet her eyes for a split second.

"Come on! Don't deprive an old sick man of gossip," Naveen's voice cut through Meera's train of thoughts.

"Lucas Whitlock," Meera said, keeping a close eye on Ethan out of the corner of her eyes.

"Who?" Ethan shouted in his head as Naveen actually said it.

"He a surgical intern and one of Bryce's friends."

"So how is this Lucas? Is he handsome? Did he ask you out?" as Naveen launched into a string of questions Ethan adjusted the dosages of the medicines and quickly took his leave.

No matter how much he tried convincing himself, his heart still wasn't ready to handle the image of her with someone else.

Meera sat on one of the benches in the locker room giving her joints a much needed massage. She looked at the red bodycon dress hanging in her locker and didn't know why her heart sank at the thought of getting ready to go out with Lucas. She was very much tempted to go home and spend the night with ice-cream like she had originally planned.

A soft sob drawed Meera's attention towards the bathroom. A decked up Sienna made her way out and Meera jumped to her feet to help her sit down.

"Hey, hey, hey Si. What happened?"

"Wayne…" Sienna dabbed at her eyeliner stained cheek, "he can't make it… again!"

"Oh Si!" Meera pulled her in an embrace as she emptied her heart out. "It's okay, he doesn't deserve you."

As the tears dried up Meera helped Sienna clean up her makeup. "You know what we should do? Let's get the biggest pint of ice-cream and put on a sappy movie! The best way to celebrate Valentine's Day!" Meera tried making her friend smile.

"No! I can't do that to you. You have been through so much lately you deserve to have fun!"

"We will have fun Si! We don't need no man! And you out of all people know that I can't go out with Lucas." Meera sighed a distant look on her face.

"Don't do this to yourself Meera," Sienna reached for her hands. "I know what's going on in your heart, but that shouldn't stop you from having fun. Go out, enjoy yourself! It doesn't have to mean anything."

"Okay," taking in a deep breath Meera said. "but on one condition, you will have to go out with Danny."

"Meera! It's not the same."

"Take your own advice Si. Just go out and have fun, it doesn't have to mean anything."

The dolphins shared a long look and after some more encouragement from Meera, Sienna agreed.

"Yay!" Meera squealed. "Let's fix your make up."

Sienna chuckled as the two of them got ready.

Meera stood at the hospital lobby, waiting for her "date". It felt weird even if she didn't say it out loud. She looked around, the compatible test had actually helped a lot of people get into the Valentines spirit.

"Wow!" a voice caught her attention. Dressed in jeans and a blazer Lucas could easily blend in with the crowd but once you meet those brown orbs he is hard to be missed. "You look…"

"very appropriate" the voice in her head completed.

"amazing!" Lucas said.

"You look great too," Meera manages a smile.

"You ready to go?" he extends his hand.

Meera nods, avoiding his extended hand. As the two stepped towards the exit Meera looks back at the hospital one last time for that night only to find the pair of Miami blue eyes on her from the balcony on the second floor. Her world seemed to stop as she sensed regret in those eyes but it was all gone too soon. He carefully looked at her one last time as if memorising each and every detail before moving out of her vision.

"Hey, you okay?" Lucas asked concerned since she hadn't moved in the past two minutes.

Meera gives a small nod and heads out of the hospital with long strides not looking back to see if Lucas was following her.

The night seemed to be going well? If by well it meant trying to stay sober even after having too many drinks. Lucas was great, they had pleasant conversation and he was great company but yet all Meera could think about was her boss' face and the look in his eyes. Yeah boss she'd drink to that Meera smiled to herself picking up her glass and bringing to her lips.

"Earth to Meera!" Lucas' voice broke Meera out of her trance not for the first time that night.

"I'm sorry!" Meera felt really guilty, "I am just a little distracted."

"Yeah a little," Lucas shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

Damn! You make even the nicest of people loose their calm. What an awful person are you?

"Wanna dance?" Meera offered.

"Sure. Why not," she was relieved to see the smile back on Lucas' face.

Meera took his hand this time and made her way to the dance floor. Their rhythm was out of beat sometimes but Meera was starting to have fun. After a few songs the music in the bar shifted to a slow romantic one and Lucas pulled her close in an embrace.

Suddenly it wasn't fun anymore, Meera felt her throat closing up, but before she could protest, she found Lucas leaning in waiting for her to meet him halfway.

I'm beginning to realize… there are some things that are worth any risk.

"I'm sorry," she uttered.

"What?"

"I'm sorry I have to go," Meera untangles herself.

"Meera, wait! Did I make a mistake? We can work it out, I promise."

She nods negatively, unable to look at him, "I made a mistake and I'll have to rectify it." She rushes out of the bar as tears break free from her eyes.

On the other side of Boston, Ethan Ramsey entered his dark, lonely alcove. Not feeling the need to turn the lights on he stood in front of the floor to ceiling window which illuminated a magical picture of the Boston skyline but prevented the Valentine cheer to enter the soulless apartment.

He closed his eyes desperately trying to remove the scandalous image of one doey-eyed intern clad in luxurious red, hugging and amplifying each of her curves and the things he could do to her if… if he allowed himself to.

Shaking his head he headed into the kitchen, he needed a stiff drink or even two if he wanted to survive the night. He rolled up his sleeves, loosened his tie and settled down to nurture a glass of his favorite scotch, when the familiar pink envelope caught his eye.

He had no one to hide from here, he was all alone, with that thought he swiftly opened it. His heart hurt for the umpteenth time that day as he read the word imprinted over and over again.

Your Perfect Match is : MEERA BOSE (97% compatible)

Just as he was about to pour himself another glass to drown in his sorrow, a knock on his door made him stop. Surprised and confused he opened the door and was met with Meera.

Her eyes now red to match her dress, hair all over her face and heels on one hand.

"Hi," she said in a shaking voice.

"You shouldn't be here," it took every ounce of strength for him to utter those four words.

"I know. But I have nowhere else to go."

If you don't know, Harper and Jackie end up together in my universe. 😇

Thank you so much if you have read till here, it means the world to me. Hope to see you go on other different adventures with me, Ethan and Meera, till then sending love and hugs your way! ❤️

Perma : @starrystarrytrouble @quixoticdreamer16 @coffeeheartaddict2 @liaromancewriter @tessa-liam @gryffindordaughterofathena @crazy-loca-blog @zahrachoices @bex-la-get @potionsprefect @schnitzelbutterfingers @a-crepusculo @custaroonie @aishwarya26

Ethan x Meera : @jerzwriter @wanderingamongthewildflowers @takemyopenheart

+ @openheartfanfics, @choicesficwriterscreations, @choices-september-challenge-blog

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed. 💜

P.S. : I know I am a little behind on my reading but I promise to catch up on it during the weekend. 💕

[lokiskitten]

Request for @hazelw013 !!

Jonathan Pine | special room service

Jonathan Pine x fem!reader

plot : It’s past midnight. After encountering the hotel’s night manager, this one agrees to make you a drink before it is requested for him to bring it up to your room. From there, things take a lustful turn as you’re settled on turning Jonathan into your midnight snack.

warnings : loWkey girlboss reader, mention of alcohol, smut, light roleplay, oral ( f receiving ), unprotected sex including vaginal penetration.

The night had come, and the clock now indicated one in the morning. All of the customers- which were mostly elderly people- had went to sleep, and you found yourself dipped into complete silence and peace. You thought that this would be the perfect occasion to get a drink and enjoy the emptiness of the bar all to yourself. Now, that wouldn’t be much of a hard task. After making your way downstairs, your first move was to reach for the night manager who stood behind the entry’s counter. “Excuse me, is the bar still open?” You asked him, orbs coming in contact with his ocean blue ones. It appeared as if you had suddenly pulled him out of a moment of distraction. He forced a smile to appear on his face.

“Absolutely madam. This way, please.” He answered, opening his arm in order to show you the way to go before joining you in your journey to the bar. You couldn’t help but feel attracted by how handsome his whole being was, adding up to his overall butler look which could only be an asset in that lustful imagination of yours. The man opened the door for you, allowing you to step inside of the bar area before penetrating inside the room himself. Unfortunately, you were both caught off guard by an unexpected visual : the bartender was missing. Disappointment filled your organism face to such a sight, an emotion Jonathan managed to notice through those pretty features of yours.

“Looks like I’ll be serving you a drink myself for tonight.” He offered professionally, as it was his duty to make sure every single customer was left entirely satisfied by their trip in this hotel. You smiled up at him, feeling grateful that he was willing to do such a thing- and internally squirming at the thought of getting to spend some extra alone time with this beautiful stranger. You sat down onto one of the bar’s stools, adjusting your position until you found the one which appeared the most comfortable though your eyes never ceased to stare at the night manager’s back. Jonathan turned towards you again, his hand delicately delivering you a small bowl of crisps before asking you about your tonight’s envies.

“What will it be, madam?” He questioned on a friendly tone, your mind allowing intrusive thoughts to take over regarding all the dirty and inappropriate things you could’ve potentially answered to that question. But instead, you stuck to being polite. “I’ll just have whatever you serve me. Surprise me.” You answered on a flirty tone, body leaning forward as you allowed your elbows to rest against the counter. Surprisingly enough, this demand appeared to ravish the man. “Right away madam.” He answered with a smile before turning around as his mind began to think of what drink he could potentially offer you. Meanwhile, you patiently waited, eyes wandering towards lower places were you got the pleasure to get a peek of his clothed bum. In your mind, there still was no scientific explanation to why male bottoms were attractive, but you just went with it.

A couple of short minutes later, a glass was finally placed before your forearms. It was cocktail shaped, which could only lead your mouth to water at the thought of getting to taste a mixture of fruit juice and alcohol. “Thank you.” You spoke politely, your eyes looking up at him whilst your fingers wrapped around the base of the glass. The liquid was soon to penetrate within your mouth with ease, filling your tastebuds with bliss and satisfaction. It tasted excellent. “Wow, this is very good. What’s it called?” You asked the trainee barman, earning a chuckle from his flustered self. “A secret receipt of mines.” He answered happily before making his way out of the counter, ready to go back to his original spot before being interrupted by your enhanced self.

“Mr. Pine?” You stopped him through his track, leading the gentleman to turn around and raise his eyebrows as he waited for you to expose your demand to him. “Would you be nice enough to bring me my drink up to my room?” You asked, legs crossing together and revealing more of your flesh due to the short dress you wore. You were secretly hoping that this would help him make up his mind as well as growing more attracted to you. Jonathan’s eyes diverted to your legs for a split second, the orbs then looking up at your face as a smile appeared on his features. “Of course madam.” He answered, leading you to get up from your chair whilst he made his way back to the bar.

As quickly as you could, you made your way back into your room in order to get ready for Jonathan’s arrival. It took you half a second to slide your panties to your ankles before tossing them to the side, body sitting down on the edge of the bed right before you heard the door of your room open. As expected, it was none but your beloved butler and guest. “Here’s your drink, madam.” He announced politely whilst making his way through the bedroom, his body bending over as he placed the glass down onto the coffee table. Meanwhile, your legs had slowly begin to part, exposing your naked sex to his sight and desperately waiting for the man to finally notice.

“Is there anything else you desire?” He asked as his head diverted back towards your body, eyes catching glimpse of your bare cunt. Clenching his jaw, Jonathan immediately looked away as visible confusion and embarrassment showed onto his tensed facial features- a reaction which only made you crave him even more. “Madam..” Jonathan began awkwardly, head now turned towards the window as his hands fidgeted together. “I desire you.” You answered lustfully, body leaning back on your palms as your thighs remained spread. Jonathan gasped. Somehow, his blue eyes finally accepted to look at your body- and that as if he was reconsidering his personal decision.

After all, no one had to know, and it probably would only be a matter of minutes. To be frankly honest, the night manager missed feeling the warmth of a woman against his body, sharing mutual pleasure with someone of the opposite sex and participating into some nice aftercare. He had been single for a while, as his constant travels held him back from settling down with a girl of his own. His lips pressed together as you grew impatient, head tilting to the side as you now allowed one of your legs to extend towards his crotch. “Please? I feel so lonely.. I suspect the same as you.” You purred alongside your kitty which craved for manly attention. Watching Jonathan finally agree to remove his vest filled you with bliss, as it could only mean he had decided to give in your proposition.

“Madam... I took notice of the way you seemed to degrade the hotel’s belongings. I’m afraid I’m gonna have to do something about that.” Jonathan allowed himself to come up with a little bit of enhancing roleplay, leading you to squirm in excitement even if you tried your best to remain in character. “I’m so terribly sorry? How could I potentially repay you?” You asked him as he removed his tie before beginning to unbutton the first few buttons of his white shirt- and all of that as his eyes remained on you. “I only see one way.” The night manager finished, his body now nearing yours as you crumbled beneath his intimidating aura.

Surprisingly enough, Jonathan decided to get on his knees, his hands taking ahold of your own before smoothly sliding their way underneath your thighs. Biting onto your bottom lip, your enhance self looked down as the night manager began to taste your cunt- starting with laying kisses on your clit before moving down to your entrance which had yet to soak up. His nose pressed against your hardened bud, this delightful sensation sending shivers down your spine as you continued to watch him work in awe. One of your hands moved up to his head, fingers gently brushing through his hair as if you wanted to reward him for his good work.

A couple of muffled moans eventually escaped your sealed lips, head tilting once in a while as Jonathan continued to eat you out whilst feeling your hand pet his head. He appeared to enjoy this. “Tell me, Mr. Pine..” you began- a sentence which didn’t stop the man through his track. “Is this gonna be included in the trip’s fees?” You joked calmly before being able to feel his lips twitch against your core, indicating that you had managed to make him smile. His licks and kisses suddenly grew rougher, head now slightly nodding against your crotch and that probably in order to stimulate your clit. “Mmh.. fuck.” You moaned just so slightly, brows knitting together as you carried on looking down at him whilst petting his hair.

“I want you inside of me now.” You ended up spitting out, leading the slightly older man to look up from your genitals. He licked his lips clean as he watched your body fall back against the mattress of the king sized bed, getting back up on his feet as his hands began to unbutton his pants. “Sure thing madam.” He smirked, earning an amused giggle from your excited self. You ended up biting down on your bottom lip, head tilting as you couldn’t seem to be able to wait any further. Your core was throbbing, still feeling the side effects of Jonathan’s previous gift. Once his pants had finally fallen to his ankles, the night manager moved closer to your body, dragging you to his crotch with the help of his strong hold.

You looked down at his clothed bulge which had yet to harden to it’s full size, feeling pleased to witness how big it already appeared- indicating that it would probably feel just right inside of your needy cunt. His hand began to gently stroke the mass through the pair of boxers he adorned, ocean blue eyes looking down at you as you took the initiative to remove your dress. Your naked body was exposed to his orbs, the sight of your breasts helping with his crotch’s current issue. His cock was now hard enough to carry penetration and Jonathan didn’t loose any time to slide his boxers down. His member possessed the perfect length and shape. You wanted him, and he wanted you. Within a matter of minutes, you had managed to make him succumb to your charms.

“You look gorgeous.” He stated, his large hand moving down to caress your stomach before sliding up to your breast. The man offered it a gentle squeeze before going back to his initial position- which consisted in sitting up between your legs. He made sure to have your ankles lock together around his neck as his lips laid passionate kisses onto your thigh. If something was sure, is that this man was all about feminine pleasure whilst still managing to please himself through the process. A real gentleman. His head diverted down towards his own crotch, guiding his length to your entrance in order to ease up the overall penetration process. Jonathan’s breath shortened as he finally slid inside of your soaked self and your eyelids shut close in order to be fully able to focus on the pleasure he was about to provide the two of you.

The intercourse was truly able to start when the night manager began to thrust in and out of you, shockwaves of pleasure spreading through your body and leaving you to scramble beneath bliss. The first thrusts were always the hardest to handle. Moaning, you felt Jonathan’s grip grow tighter onto your hips, allowing you to understand that this overall process also had nice affects on his mood and organism. “Fuck..” he moaned, eyebrows knitted together in a sad manner. His eyes remained on you, admiring your body which he saw as nothing but a temple he was meant to take care of a of respect. Your hands were soon to take ahold of the bedsheets, your organism growing more and more affected and aroused as time passed by.

“Mr. Pine...” ironically enough, you didn’t even know his first name- even if he was fully aware of yours. The thrusts carried on and only intensified through time, driving the two of you towards your respective orgasm which you simply couldn’t wait to reach. The man didn’t appear afraid to moan and express the pleasure he was feeling, and that in multiple different ways. You could tell that he shared the same sensation as you did, and it only enhanced the overall intercourse to think that there was a chance for you to come simultaneously. “I’m gonna come..” you announced, feeling as Jonathan fastened up the pace as if he desired to catch up on you. This move easily pushed you over the edge, driving you towards the climax you were longing for.

A great feeling of bliss took over your body, moans exiting your lips as you found yourself dipped into your climax. Jonathan pulled out, efficiently catching up as a couple of pumps offered to his cock were enough to lead him to cum. The white liquid landed on your clit and lower stomach, staining your skin in the most beautiful way. The two of you remained panting, though Jonathan made an effort to keep himself onto his feet as his hand held onto your thigh. “Christ..” you breathed out, eyelids opening again as your head diverted towards the night manager. “You’d be pleased to bring me a handkerchief so I can clean myself up, Mr Pine.” You demanded tiredly, earning a nod from the man who was violently pulled back to his original functions. “Right away madam.” He answered, taking a few seconds to pull himself back into his pants.

I don’t see much Jonathan imagines, which is a shame. I hope this will bring happiness to the people who find themselves in the same situation as me! Thanks for reading. Don’t hesitate to share, like and comment! It always means whole lots to me and any writer.

@devilsuga @theaudacitytowrite ❤️

[dameronology]

you have my number {bucky barnes x reader}

summary: bucky barnes' memory is a little selective, thanks to all the brainwashing - but one thing he'll never forget is his love for you, even if you're a complete & utter pain in the ass. his ass. (based on deja vu by olivia rodigro)

^even tho this fic refers to bucky as having a new gf, the reader is still g.n :)

this is spoiler free! enjoyyy

- jazz xx

Your relationship with Bucky Barnes had been nothing short of a train wreck.

And frankly, that was putting it nicely.

It had been a short & passionate affair; intense and sweet and filled with so much emotion in such high concentrations that you'd both almost drowned in it. For every euphoric moment, there had been one so low that you'd scraped your knees on the ground. Climbing a ladder to heaven whilst simultaneously digging your own graves had taken its toll on you both, and eventually, you had no choice but to go your separate ways. It had been for your own sanity, really.

So there he was, tucked away in a neat little box in your brain, labelled don't touch, ever. Even when you were completely wasted, surrounded by your friends and their respective lovers, you never dared to venture back down that particular memory lane. Forgetting all the bad parts and selectively remembering the good parts was easy enough to do, but you had the common sense to remember why you'd broken up in the first place. Because Bucky Barnes, despite being easy on the eyes and having a charming sense of humour, was a pain in your fucking ass. He managed to press every one of your buttons without even trying and his ability to bring out the best in you was completely and entirely wiped out by his tendency to bring out the worst. That wasn't even getting started on his emotional hold-ups; a can of worms neither of you had dared to open until it became the very reason for your demise.

Six months had passed, and you'd managed to expertly avoid him. You worked different missions and Sam Wilson, god bless his sweet soul, went the extra mile to ensure your paths never crossed in a professional sense. On a personal level, however? That was a little more difficult. New York City felt a lot smaller after your break up. You found yourself occasionally ducking under your hood when you saw him on the F-train, or rushing to cross the road when you saw him coming towards you on the street.

That was when you had the whole city to lose yourself in; streets and shops and little food carts to distract yourself with should you need to. Being confined to the same room for a work party was a different story entirely, and one you didn't want to read. Yet, thanks to some insistence from your boss and a little grovelling from your colleagues, you found yourself rocking up to the former Avengers tower on a Friday night.

"So you do exist outside of your work uniform?" Sam Wilson greeted you with a quirked eyebrow.

"Yeah, yeah - nice to see you too, Wilson."

Despite your initial attempts to elbow him in the rips, he wrestled you off of him and pulled you into a tight hug. Sam was one of your favourite colleagues and oldest friends - he'd witnessed the rise and fall of your relationship with Bucky, and been there for you both during the break-up. That had been an exhausting few days, running between your respective apartments in an attempt to offer emotional support to you both.

"D'you want some champagne?" He asked.

"I'm good, but thank-"

You froze, eyes widening at the sight of James Barnes across the room. He looked quintessentially the same, bar for the fact his hair was a little longer and he had a fresh, pink scar under his left eye. Having ditched his usual attire for a black blazer, he looked good. Annoyingly so, in fact. It made you secretly grateful that you'd chosen to dress up a little more than usual too.

"- on second thoughts." You took the flute of champagne from Sam, also grabbing a shot of vodka from the same trey. It was gone in seconds.

"Need I ask?" Sam gave you a playful frown. His brown eyes followed your gaze over his shoulder, landing on the man you'd been staring at. "Ah. I need not."

"Sorry." You murmured. "We haven't actually spoken since, y'know."

"Since you had a break-up that made Ross and Rachel look good?"

"I don't think Bucky has ever seen Friends." You quipped.

"His loss." Sam shrugged. "You should talk to him."

"Nope." You snorted. "Absolutely not. I don't even know if he's moved on."

"Judging by the pretty blonde on his arm, I think he has," Sam replied. "Would you look at that! They're headed right for us."

That was a lot of information to process at once. You would have needed a week alone for your poor, tired brain to deal with the fact that Bucky had someone else on his arm, and a further three days to big yourself up enough to talk to him. Alas, that was not the case tonight. Instead, you had about five seconds between Sam finishing his sentence and your ex-boyfriend reaching you. It was just as well you found the energy within that timeframe to down your champagne.

You could see the woman on his arm clearer now. To give credit where credit was due, she stunning. She looked like the sort of girl who smelt of strawberries and Chanel, and grew her own vegetables on the fire escape. The kind of person you swore to be with every New Year that came, but quickly ditched after a week, returning to drinking coffee from the Starbucks under your apartment rather than going to the organic, vegan place a few blocks over. There was an ethereal glow about her and fuck. You were mad.

"Sam!" Bucky called out to his friend - for a minute, you thought he was ignoring you, before you realised he genuinely didn't recognise you. Your name rolled off his tongue with a tone of uncertainty, as though he was learning a new language and still learning how to pronounce things. "Wow. You look...different."

"So do you." You shot back. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Katie." He awkwardly smiled. "My...my girlfriend."

"It's nice to meet you." You forced an equally pained grin, taking her hand in a shake.

"How do you and Bucky know each other?" She asked.

"Work." Bucky quickly said. You thinned your eyes at him, almost in disbelief.

"So you're an Avenger like these two?" Katie asked, clearly not picking up on the tension. "That's so cool."

"Not in an official capacity." You replied. "But they'd be fucked without me."

--

The night only got longer from there, really.

There wasn't enough champagne in the world to help the void in your soul. It was a gaping wound that Bucky Barnes had both filled and widened - and tonight, he was doing the latter. It sounded as though him and Katie were having a grand ol' time of it. From the parts of the conversation that you'd actually bothered to listen to, you'd gathered that she'd arrived in New York from London just over three months ago. That meant she had a fucking accent. Of course she did. It made everything she said a thousand times more interesting.

"We were in Paris, in this little cafe. What was it called, babe? Maison de vie?"

"Maison de l'amour, doll." Bucky corrected her. It had only sounded right when he was calling you that.

Your eyes shot up from your drink, immediately staring daggers at them both. The slimy bastard. You had been the one to show him that place. You'd been in Paris for a mission, and after realising it was your four-month anniversary, you'd taken him there for pancakes. It had been a slow morning, filled with hazy eyes and pink skies, and it had ended with him dropping the L-bomb for the first time. The photo you'd taken of Bucky, sat beside a pile of pancakes the same size of him and with whipped cream on his chin, had been your phone background until the day you broke up.

"I've been there." You didn't break away from his gaze, holding cold blue eyes in a trance that he found to be almost suffocating.

"Oh, nice!" Katie beamed. "Did you enjoy it?"

"Yeah." You sniffed. "The company was shit, though."

"Oh, man." She replied. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's not your fault." You gave her a sweet smile - to Bucky, it was a look of venom. "So, tell me more about your trip to Paris."

He quickly cleared his throat. "We didn't do much. Just a weekend getaway-"

"- are you forgetting that we saw Billy Joel?" Katie cut him off with a laugh. "The Billy Joel!"

"Right." It looked as though his mouth had gone completely dry.

"He told me he loved me for the first time to Uptown Girl-"

"-excuse me for a moment." You shoved your glass in her hand, before backing away from your little huddle.

Your brain was focused on getting away and only on getting away. The room suddenly felt a thousand times hotter, and a thousand times smaller too, as though the walls were closing in on you. Maybe that wouldn't have been so bad if they'd just collapsed around you and swallowed you fucking whole. Anything to get away from this situation.

Making a beeline for the balcony doors, you elbowed them open and stepped outside. The cold air of the rooftop gardens was a welcome contrast to the stuffy indoors, biting, night air hitting your face like an icy hug. The sounds of the city rung below you - sirens and yells and tourists - and tangled into the faint sound of the music, all parts of a world that your brain was working overtime to block out.

You focused on the city instead, using the bright lights of the surrounding buildings to anchor you to reality. None of it really even made sense - you were over Bucky. Had been for a long time. It was just the thought of him doing all the things that he'd done with you, with someone else. It made you feel a little bad for Katie, too.

"I was going to tell you about Billy Joel."

You glanced over your shoulder, giving a derivative snort. "Piss off, Bucky."

"I'm serious." He ignored your demand, cautiously approaching you.

"I brought you those tickets!" You turned around to face him. "We were meant to go together. Billy Joel was our thing."

"We broke up!' He reminded you. "Like I said, I was going to tell you that we went together-"

"- I don't care." You cut him off. "I genuinely don't care."

"That was a lot of storming off for someone who doesn't care."

"Okay, maybe I care a little bit." You huffed, taking a seat on a bench. "It's not even that you're with someone else, it's that you're doing all the things we did. The nicknames, the pancake place, the concert."

"I..." Bucky took a seat beside you, pondering for a moment.

"And declaring your love for someone to Uptown Girl is fucking weird." You muttered.

"Do you have a better suggestion?"

"Vienna, obviously."

"You're such a pain in the ass." Bucky replied. "But for what it's worth, I wasn't thinking of Katie in that moment."

You glanced up at him, frowning. "What do you mean?"

"D'you remember that morning when we were in New Orleans?" He asked. "And we had a few hours to kill before our flight, so you started dancing around the hotel room to Uptown Girl?"

"I remember." You softly smiled.

"That was when I realised I loved you." He admitted. "I was replaying that in my head at the concert, and it just kinda came out, and Katie heard."

"Damn." You muttered. "Sucks to be her, huh?"

"I like Katie." He said. "Truth be told, doll, I'm still stuck in the past a little bit. With you, and with what we had."

"We fucking hated each other by the end, Buck."

"I know, but I mean all the stuff before that." He explained. "You were the first person who saw me for who I am and not what I've done. The first person that actually made me feel loved and worthy."

"I do try."

He lightly elbowed you "I'm serious. I think I'm just projecting my longing for what we had onto my current relationship."

"You're being painfully honest tonight." You observed. "It's fucking weird."

"Who taught me to be painfully honest?"

"Right." You rolled your eyes. "So this is how Frankenstein felt when he created his monster."

"You're the worst," Bucky muttered. "I genuinely am sorry, though. I shouldn't be recycling our memories. I should make new ones.'

Dusting off your trousers, you stood up. "You're right."

"Thank you, though."

"For what?"

"For finding me first," He replied, "and for teaching me what love is."

"Well, if you ever need to be reminded? You have my number."

[chrisevansjellybeans]

Undercover | Mob!Steve Rogers

I saw this post  by @rosierose-e​ and got inspired to write this mob! Steve Rogers smut. All mistakes are my own. 

ALSO THANK YOU FOR 400 FOLLOWERS! Love you all and appreciate the support immensely! Thank you :) 

Warning: Smut!!! NSFW choking, cockwarming, swearing

Part Two

Word Count: 5k

You squinted as you looked at yourself in the mirror. The weight of the false lashes a foreign feeling on your eyes. You felt like a clown. This was not you at all. You wore the basics: some foundation, concealer, blush, mascara and if you were really feeling fancy a lip gloss. But nothing heavy. One, your skin was unforgiving and if you went heavier than the BB cream you used you would have pimples for days. Two, in your line of work heavy makeup just wasn’t ideal. 

“Wow, you look amazing.” You looked up in the mirror to see the rookie Peter Parker getting into the van behind you. Peter was sweet, a little naive, but a good agent nonetheless. He had joined the force about three months ago and Director Fury had insisted he learn from the best, so now he was your partner for the remainder of the year. 

“Thanks, Pete.” You sighed as you straightened up, pulling the hem of the skin tight black dress down only to have it bunch up again. “I feel ridiculous.” 

“Well you don’t look it.” He handed you a cup of coffee and you took it with a grateful smile. You needed all the caffeine you could get tonight. 

Tonight you were going undercover at the notorious Red White and Blue Gala hosted by none other than notorious mob boss Steve Rogers. It was his lame attempt and pretending to be an upstanding citizen but hosting an event in honor of the men and women in service. A good cause but for a bad reason. It was rumored that more than just helpful charity happened at this event. 

 You and the rest of your team had been tailing Rogers for close to two years. Trying to get anything to tie the bastard down to all the crimes you knew his organization was behind. But he was good at his job. Leaving no trace evidence that could link any of the nefarious acts back to him. 

He was a cocky son of a bitch and you wanted to be the one to nail him. 

Peter glanced down at the watch on his wrist before clapping his hands together. “Almost showtime, partner.” 

You felt your hands get clammy as the nerves started to wrack your body. You had done undercover work before in the last seven years you’ve been a part of the force but there was something different about this one. Something more dangerous. Steve Rogers was a dangerous man. 

You turned back to the mirror and fixed your hair and makeup one last time before letting out a long breath. You again tried to pull down the hem of the dress but with no avail. You wanted badly to be mad at the catering company that you had been able to infiltrate but you knew that this was probably the work of Rogers. Sick bastard. 

You slipped on the four inch heels they gave you and you nearly stumbled into Peter as you tried to take a step. Heels. Another thing not usually worn in your line of business. 

“Okay, this is a listening device.” Peter explained as he pinned a small but beautiful butterfly pin on your right breast. You couldn’t help but chuckle as his hands fumbled as he accidentally grazed over where your nipple would be. “Sorry.” 

“It’s a boob, Parker. It’s fine.” Peter just nodded before finishing pinning it. 

“Anyway,” he continued. “It’ll be recording everything that we need and coming right back here to my feed in the van. It’s small enough that it won’t get detected by any scanners. Unfortunately we won’t be able to communicate but if you say ‘pineapple’ we’ll come in and get you out.” 

“Pineapple.” You said more to yourself than to Peter. 

“Pineapple. And I mean, Y/N. Anything starts to get fishy you get out of there. Roger’s is ruthless.” 

“I know.” You patted his shoulder. “Thanks for looking out for me, rook.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” He pushed you out the van. “Kick ass, partner.” 

You gave him a small salute before turning around and following another group of girls dressed just like you into the expansive mansion in front of you. 

You tried not to be too awestruck as you took in the structure of the building. It looked like something out of an old mystery novel. The entire place was dark. Dark wood and dark furniture. The lights all a dimmed tan light that fed into the mysterious atmosphere. Your eyes darted to the artwork that littered the wall, all depictions of a fall from grace. 

Is that how you see yourself, Rogers? A fallen angel? 

“Hey!” You snapped back to attention as a frantic voice called over to you. “What the hell are you doing? Get to the kitchen.” 

You bit your tongue as you glared at the rude man before following the rest of the women into the kitchen. 

Dressed all like you, there were probably about twenty other women there. All of them easily could have been supermodels. The rude man pushed you towards a group of about three of them who were all balancing drinks on a tray. 

“Grab one and go.” The man, Stan you gathered from his nametag, said before turning to another group of women. You picked up a tray and prayed to all powers in the universe that the combination of full glasses of wine and these heels didn’t cause you to completely embarrass yourself. 

The ballroom was huge. You suddenly felt very small as you wandered around the room, offering drinks to some of New York’s most high profile residents. You kept your eyes peeled for the familiar mob boss. Your heart rate sped up as you noticed him across the room, chatting with a beautiful woman. You watched as he leaned down and whispered something to her, causing her to blush before playfully pushing his shoulder. He just smirked before turning his attention to the man on the other side of him-Clint Barton, completely ignoring her now, but she still stayed by his side watching his every move. 

Pathetic. 

You had to get to him. Get him alone and get him talking. But how? 

“Well aren’t you the prettiest thing in the room.” You felt yourself stiffen as a pair of hands wandered down your back and rested on your hip. The smell of expensive cologne attacking your senses. 

Slowly you turned around to find James “Bucky” Barnes looking at you like a predator to its prey. Bucky, was Steve’s right hand man. His best friend. He was handsome. Dark hair, even darker blue eyes and a smirk, that if he was anyone else, would have your panties melted off before you could even blink. You glanced down at the infamous metal arm that was hidden underneath an expensive suit jacket, but his hand flexed slightly as he noticed you looking at it. 

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes.” You forced out. “Can I offer you a drink?” You pushed the tray between the two of you in offering and also creating more space. 

“No, I’m all set, doll.” He raised his glass of scotch. “Just wanted to talk to a pretty thing like you.” 

“There are plenty of other beautiful women here.” You said, your voice slightly cold. You hoped he would get the hint. 

“None quite like you.” He smirked and you fought everything in you to roll your eyes. 

“Does that line actually work?” 

Bucky took a step back at your bluntness. You see out of the corner of your eye, Rogers and Barton start to head towards the door. You had to make a move, because if he left to go do business he might not come back down for a while. 

“It was nice talking to you, Mr. Barnes.” You quickly moved past him, ignoring his short “wait”. You rushed, but not too obviously, towards where Steve was heading. If you went fast enough you could cut him off. You felt your heart drop to your stomach as you tripped over your heels, the tray in your hand shooting forward and the glasses of red wine landing square on Steve Rogers’ suit. 

“What the fuck?” The room went silent at his angry outburst. You stumbled as you tried to stand up, but were immediately hoisted up when his large hands wrapped around the tops of your arms. 

“I’m so sorry, sir.” You sputtered. For a moment you forgot where you were. Why you were here. His blue eyes, dark with fury, scanned your face as he held your arms. You had never really taken a good look at him. All pictures in his file weren’t anything special or high definition. But now, seeing him up close? You were beginning to understand the woman from earlier giddiness. 

He was beautiful. 

You bit your lip as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip. You suddenly felt very aware of your body and the fact that he hadn’t taken his eyes off of you. 

“Go.” He pushed you towards the door he had been walking to with Barton. You walked through the door with shaky legs as you heard him mutter something to Barton before following you. 

“Sir, I’m so-” 

“Shut up.” He growled as he stepped through the door, the heavy wood slamming shut behind him. “Walk.” 

You hesitated. You didn’t know where he wanted you to walk to. Grumbling, Steve once again pushed you forward and you just started walking down the hallway. As you walked down you noticed a door that was slightly ajar. You glanced in while walking past and took note of the firearms and drugs that were very obviously there.

“Keep. Walking.” Steve’s voice was harsh in your ear before you heard him slam the door shut. 

“Yes, sir.” you muttered. 

The two of you continued to walk until you made it to the room at the end of the hall. Tentatively you opened it, waiting for any different direction, but Steve remained silent behind you so you continued. 

The room was...different. It was very different from the dark vibe of the rest of the house. There was a large bay window to your left that overlooked the back of the house that homed a large garden and pool. The walls were painted a soft beige and the furniture a lighter wood than the rest of the house. Even the bed was covered in a white duvet that looked like a cloud just waiting to be jumped on. It was homey. It was nice. 

“Mr. Rogers-” 

“Who do you work for?” He demanded, shutting the door. 

You froze. You tried hard to make sure your face didn’t give away anything as he stared you down. You didn’t let your gaze falter as he stalked closer to you. 

“Lee’s Catering.” You answered earnestly. 

“Bullshit.” He was now only a foot away from you. His broad shoulders heaving as he raked you up and down. “I know every single girl that works for Stan. I’ve never seen you before. So answer me again and honestly this time. Who the fuck do you work for?” 

“So he’s not allowed to hire new girls?” You snapped, immediately covering your mouth with your hand. 

Fuck. 

“Watch your tone with me, sweetheart. You’re on very thin ice right now.” He closed the final gap between the two of you and you gasped when his hand went around your throat, but not tightening enough to cut off any oxygen. 

“That old bat isn’t allowed to hire anyone that I haven’t vetted.” He hissed in your ear. You shuttered as the vibrato of his voice sent shivers straight down to your core. 

“Please.” Your voice came out in a whisper as your eyes pleaded with him. 

Steve opened his mouth but nothing came out, his nose brushed along the curve of your neck and you sucked in a breath as his mouth latched onto the sensitive spot underneath your jaw. 

“Strip.” He commanded, pushing you back causing you to fall onto the bed. 

“What?” 

“Take off your fucking clothes so I can see if you’re wired.” He snapped. You slowly pulled at the hem of your dress before drawing it up your body and over your head. Before you could fully get it off he stopped you. Your heart stopped as he reached over to the butterfly pin and pulled it off the dress. You watched in horror as he walked to his door, opening it and calling out to someone at the end of the hall. 

“Yeah boss?” You tried to see him, but Steve’s frame was blocking the small opening in the door. 

“Take this and run a test. Let me know if it’s bugged.” He demanded before closing the door. When he turned around he raised an expectant eyebrow at you letting you know you still had to take off the dress. You resumed your actions and turned your face away when his eyes flared at the matching set of red lingerie you had on underneath. 

“See? No wires.” You whispered. 

Steve didn’t say anything as he stalked towards you, rolling up the sleeves to the dress shirt he had on. Your body flushed as he leaned over you, his strong arms resting on either side of your chest. Slowly, he moved on hand to the strap of your bra before lowering it down off your shoulder. His thumb brushed over your pebbling nipple and you wanted to smack the smirk that formed on his face straight off. 

“I better double check you’re not hiding anything anywhere.” He muttered before pulling the cup of your bra down, exposing your left breast. You shuttered as his thumb brushed over it again, this time with no barrier. His mouth was hot as wrapped his lips around the bud, causing you to let out an unwilling moan. Your hips bucked up as his tongue expertly ran over your nipple. His deftly unclipped your bra and moved his mouth to your other breast and continued the same assault. His hands moved down to your hips to steady them from bucking against his growing member. 

“Hmm, looks like we’re clear up here.” He chuckled as his lips moved up to your jaw before capturing your mouth with his. 

The kiss was fiery and embarrassingly so sent a wave of pleasure down to your aching core. You moaned into the kiss as you ran your fingers through his hair, giving it a tight tug. Steve growled at your movements as he fully leaned into you now, his muscular thighs trapping yours on the bed. 

You ran your tongue along his bottom lip before slipping it in to find his own. You nearly came as Steve moaned into your mouth, his hands tightening on you and pulling you up to meet his rutting hips. Using all your strength you spun the two of you around, your mouths still connected, so you were now straddling his pelvis. You pulled away from the kiss and sat up. 

Steve slowly opened his eyes, his pupils blown in desire as he looked up at you through hooded eyes. You began to unbutton his wine stained shirt, running your hands over his porcelain skin when it was fully opened. You traced your fingers over the tattoos that littered his abs and ribs. You took pleasure in the fact that Steve would shiver with every pass of your fingertip. 

“I’m sorry about the stain, Mr. Rogers.” You said innocently, leaning down, your breasts pushed together as they rested on his now bare chest. 

“You should be, princess.” His voice was deep. You let out a small yelp as one of his hands gave a harsh slap to your ass. “This is an expensive shirt. And don’t even get me started on the trousers.” 

You hummed in understanding as you gave tiny kisses across his jaw and neck, taking time to suck on the skin around his collarbone. Your hands wandered down his body till they came in contact with the trousers in question. Slowly you sat up, running your hands over the stain on his pants but your eyes never leaving his. 

“I hope you can get the stain out.” You licked your lips as you moved your body down his own until your face was directly by his crotch and the stain. You sucked on the stain near his cock and smiled when his member jumped in his briefs. You slowly pulled down his pants until he was just in his underwear, his cock trying so hard to break free from it’s confines. 

Steve groaned as you finally freed his aching member. You gave the tip a little kitten lick as you looked up at him. He was now resting his weight on his arms as he leaned back and watched you in absolute wonder. You brushed your thumb across the tip, dragging the precum that had gathered there down the rest of his shaft. Your mouth watered at the thought of having him in your mouth. But you wanted to torture him a bit more. 

You ran your tongue along the vein on the underside of his cock, while your hand squeezed lightly at the base. You wrapped your lips around the tip, your tongue playing with the slit there before pulling back with a pop. 

“Mhmm, tasty.” You continued treating him like your own personal lollipop, but never fully enveloping his dick in your mouth. 

“Sweetheart, either fucking suck it like I know you can or I’ll shove it down your fucking throat.” Steve wrapped your hair into a makeshift ponytail and forced your head up. “Got it?” 

You didn’t respond, instead you finally took him into your mouth. You pushed past your gag reflex and took him all the way in until your nose brushed against the hairs on his naval. 

“Oh fuck.” Steve’s voice praised as he started moving his hips, fucking his cock down the back of your throat. 

Your eyes watered as you let him use your throat as his own little fuck toy. You reached between your legs trying to relieve the tension that was building there. You moaned around his cock as your fingers toyed with your clit. 

“Shit, I wanna come in that fucking pussy.” He moaned as he pulled you off the floor and threw you back on the bed. You laid back, your fingers moving back to your clit as you watched him fully take off his clothes. He watched you with interest as you moved your lace panties to the side and slid a finger up your slit, gathering your juices before gently rubbing your clit again. He ran his hands up your legs before grabbing your hand and stopping your actions. 

“This,” He patted harshly against your pussy and you moaned at the sensation. “Is mine. Don’t touch, unless I tell you to.” 

“Yes, sir.” You moaned as his fingers replaced yours. Your back arched as he dipped one finger into your hole. 

“Fuck, baby. When was the last time somebody fucked this little cunt? You’re so fucking tight, baby.” He moaned, watching as your pussy greedily closed around his finger. 

“You’re gonna feel so good around my cock, sweetheart.” Steve’s eyes met yours and for a moment he looked like a man that you might actually want to be with. His cold exterior was gone and replaced with a man who was just as lustfully lost as you were. 

“I want your cock now. Please.” you cried out as he slipped another finger in. Your body bucking as he curled his fingers up hitting that spot that so few had been able to get to with you. 

“Yeah? My little slut wants daddy’s cock to fill her up?” He leaned over you, capturing your lips again. You moaned into his mouth at his words. You never admitted it to anyone but you always had a little bit of a daddy kink. You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding onto him tightly as waves of pleasure crashed over you. 

“Please, daddy.” You whimpered against his lips as your hips bucked against his. “Please fuck me.” 

Steve chuckled darkly, kissing you quickly again, before ripping your panties clean off your body. You didn’t even care that he just ruined the most expensive pair of underwear you owned. You just needed his cock in you now. 

You bit the inside of your cheek as you watched him lineup his cock with your dripping hole, slowly pushing the head into your tight channel. You both let out moans as he bottomed out. He fell forward, his forehead resting against yours. You whined as you tried to move your hips against his but he just forced them down with his hands. 

“Steve!” You all but screamed. “Please.” 

“Patience, baby.” He said through gritted teeth. “Your pussy’s so fucking tight. Squeezing daddy’s cock so good. I just need a minute.” 

You let out a humph as you continued to buck your hips against his. 

“What the fuck did I just say?” He growled, he leaned up and wrapped his hand around your throat. “Don’t be a fucking brat.” 

You opened your mouth to apologize but it was overtaken as you let out a yelp as he pulled himself out before slamming his cock back into you. You threw your head back as he fucked into you relentlessly, his hand tightening around your throat. You were in a state of euphoria as his cock dragged in and out of your walls. 

“Oh my god.” You mewl as he continues to completely destroy your pussy. Before you could process what’s happening, Steve flips you over so your face is pushed into the fluffy comforter. He pulls your hips back so your ass is in the air and he easily slides back into you. 

“Tight little cunt fucking loves my cock.” You cry out as his hand delivers a slap against your ass before moving to your hips and pushing you back onto his dick. You feel your eyes roll to the back of your head as the tip of his cock hits your g-spot. 

“Daddy!” You call out. Steve leans over and pulls you up by your neck, causing your back to be flush with his front as he fucks up into you. His other hand moves down to play with your clit. 

“Are you gonna come baby girl? I feel your pussy milking my cock. You wanna come?” He growls in your ear. “Huh? You wanna come all over my cock?” 

“Yes! Oh god, yes!” 

“I’m so close, princess.” He drops his head into the crook of your neck. “Come on, baby. Squeeze my cock, make daddy come with you.” 

You feel that familiar feeling in your tummy as your orgasm approaches. 

“Shit.” You breathe out as your orgasm gets closer and closer. Steve’s fingers move faster against your clit. You cry out as your orgasm finally crashes over you. Steve lets out a groan as you feel his cock twitch inside of you, his cum shooting inside your walls. 

“You feel so good.” He breathes as his orgasm dies down. You hum in agreement but you’re too tired to say anything else. You close your eyes as you feel Steve lower your both to the bed. You whimper as he pulls out of you. 

“I’ll be right back.” He presses a kiss to your forehead and you just give him a nod. You’re completely incoherent. Totally fucked out. He’s gone for a couple minutes and you hear the water in the bathroom running before he comes back. With your eyes closed you don’t see how he pauses at the side of bed, appreciating the curves of your body as you curled yourself under one of his many blankets. 

You whine as you feel him move the blanket before running a washcloth between your legs. “Steve?” 

“Yes, princess?” You hate that your stomach flutters at the nickname. 

“Don’t leave.” You mutter, closing your eyes once more. 

Steve doesn’t respond for a second and at first you think that he’s going to leave but then you feel the bed dip and a strong arm pulling you close. You smile to yourself as your hand lands on top of his. 

“Get some rest.” He whispers in your ear. 

“Mmkay.” you hum and you don’t know if it’s your imagination or not but you swore you felt Steve smile against your skin. 

You wake with a jolt. You glance at the clock and curse silently. You’ve been asleep for two hours. You turn over and see Steve still there, his eyes closed and his breathing steady. You find yourself staring at his long eyelashes and how they rest gently along the tops of his cheek. He doesn’t look like a scary mob boss here. He looks human. He looks peaceful. 

“I can feel you staring.” Steve opens one eye and gives you a small smile. “Like what you see?” 

You gasp as he grabs you and has you straddle his hips. You rest your hands easily on his chest and stare down at him, smirking as you feel his cock start to stir. 

“Hmmm, I love these.” His hands reach up and twist at your nipples causing you to bite back a moan. 

“Steve…” 

“And your pussy is so responsive to me, princess. It’s like it was made for me.” He rubs his thumb across your clit. “I can feel how wet you are again.” 

“Well you’re playing with my clit. Of course I’m gonna get wet.” You retort. 

Steve raises an eyebrow at you. “You really think being sassy is in your best interest?” 

You roll your eyes but don’t respond. Steve grumbles before lifting you up a bit and impaling you on his now hard cock. 

“Fuck!” You slap his chest and Steve chuckles. Nonetheless you start rocking your hips against his. 

“Nuh uh,” Steve tuts. He holds your hips still. “You’re just gonna sit here like this. Keep me nice and warm.” 

“Steveeee.” You whine, lowering your head to his chest. 

“Don’t be such a brat then.” He growls. You raise your head to look at him and even though his words are tough, his eyes are soft. And for a moment your taken back. “So sit still for daddy.” 

You groan but stay still. Steve runs his fingers up and down your back, tracing patterns along your skin and you hum in appreciation. Your peaceful moment is upended though when his phone rings on the nightstand next to him. 

“Rogers.” He answers quickly. You stay quiet as you hear the voice on the other end of the line talk about the product movement. You smirk to yourself as Steve begins to discuss logistics, completely ignoring your presence. 

“I’m a little busy, Stark.” Tony Stark? As in Mayor of the city Tony Stark? He was in on this too. “I’ll call you back.” Steve threw his phone back on the nightstand and brought your face up to his to pull you into a searing kiss. 

“Please, daddy?” You say against his lips. You start rocking your hips again and this time, Steve doesn’t stop you. 

You're a moaning mess as Steve’s hips snap up yours, your orgasm fast approaching. 

“Gonna cum already?” 

“Yes, yes! Oh god, I’m so close!” You breathe as he quickens his pace. 

“Cum, baby girl. Make a mess on daddy.” He groans, his head tipping back. 

“Steve!” You choke out as your body spasms with pleasure. Steve comes quickly after you and you shutter as you feel his seed leaking out of your worn out hole. 

You lay your head down on his chest again and try to gather your thoughts. You need to get out of here. 

“I should go.” You whisper, sitting up. Steve’s cock is still inside you and you almost don’t want to leave because you feel so full. 

“I wanna see you again.” He runs his fingers across your cheek. The sense of power you feel seeing the country’s biggest mob boss underneath you, drunk on your sex is overwhelming. You love the feeling. 

“You will. Soon.” You lean down and give him a deep kiss. “I promise.” You peck his lips once more before gathering your clothes from the floor. 

Slipping on your shoes you give him one last wink before hurrying out the door and down the hall. You manage to find a way to the kitchen without having to walk through the rest of the party and you sneak out behind a delivery man who brought in a ridiculously large ice sculpture. 

Once you're outside you take your heels off and run towards the van down the street. You hurriedly knock on the back, checking your surroundings to make sure no one sees you. Peter opens the door and he looks like he’s seen a ghost when he sees you. 

“Y/N!” He pulls you into the van. “Oh my god, I was getting worried. When we heard him say that he wanted to check the pin I had to turn off the devices so they wouldn’t get traced. And then you didn’t come out. But Fury said that you would be fine but man, I was so nervous and-”

“Parker, shut up and hand me a piece of paper.” You clapped your hands together, pulling him out of his ramble. Peter nodded and handed you a pen and paper watching intently as you started writing down everything you overheard on the phone call. 

“What is this?” 

“Rogers is working with Stark and they're moving some sort of product tomorrow.” You said proudly.

“How did you...this is huge!” 

“My Ma always said that there are two ways to get to a man. One is through his stomach and the other is in his pants.” You shrugged. 

“And I’m guessing you didn’t make him a grilled cheese sandwich.” Peter makes a face. 

“Not exactly.” You laugh. “Now let’s go. We gotta get this to Fury.” 

Part 2

[swanlake1998]

Article: The Unbearable Whiteness of Ballet

Date: April 22, 2021

By: Chloe Angyal

In an exclusive excerpt from her new book Turning Pointe, contributing editor Chloe Angyal lays out the ways that white supremacy is embedded in ballet's most basic foundations.

Wilmara Manuel and her 11-year-old daughter, Sasha, were at the world finals of a ballet competition, the Youth America Grand Prix, in 2015 when it happened. Shortly before the competition began, the young dancers were on the performance stage with their parents, warming up and preparing to dance the solos they’d been rehearsing for months.

As Wilmara, who is Black and originally from Haiti, and Sasha, who is biracial, stood there, a young white dancer looked around the stage, checking out the competition. “And her eyes land on Sasha,” Wilmara remembers, “and I saw her look [Sasha] up and down, and then look at her mom.

“And her mom said, ‘Don’t worry. They’re never really good anyway.’ ”

Wilmara did her best to contain her shock. Sasha didn’t hear what the white mom had said, and Wilmara wasn’t about to tell her, because “that’s not the thing I want to discuss 10 minutes before she takes the stage.” But Sasha could sense that something was amiss. “Just the look on my face, she was like, ‘What? What happened? What did she say?’ ” Wilmara brushed her daughter off.

Don’t worry. They’re never really good anyway. An entire worldview of white resentment of Black progress and excellence passed quietly from mother to child in just seven words.

That white mother could not fathom that Sasha, a biracial child with a Black mother, might be really good—as in very good, or truly good—at a traditionally white art form at which her child was presumably also quite proficient. She could not imagine that Sasha might deserve to be at that competition, might have qualified on her merit—her talent and skill and persistence—rather than because of what she might consider a misguided or even unjust attempt to diversify ballet by lowering standards. They’re not really good, but they are allowed to be here. In this space that is rightfully yours, in this art form that is rightfully yours. They’re never as good as the white girls, a sweeping generalization that grants no individuality, no humanity, to any nonwhite dancer. They’re all the same, and they never deserve to be here. But don’t worry. Your excellence is a given. You belong here, while their presence is conditional or even ill-gotten.

A few minutes later, Sasha took the stage and performed her solo. She ended up placing ahead of that white dancer.

From then on, Wilmara traveled with Sasha to every competition, paying the additional travel costs to make sure that, if something like that ever happened again, she’d be there to support her daughter.

“That has stuck with me,” she says. “And it’s one of the reasons I make the sacrifice and I go with her everywhere. Even if there are others going, I feel like I need to be around should comments like that pop up. I just don’t feel like I can take that chance, you know? And what cracks me up is that . . . she doesn’t even look as dark as I do, which makes me feel like, ‘Oh my God, if you were darker, like, what else?’ ”

Sasha grew up in a suburb of Indianapolis and is now 16. She trains at the Royal Ballet School in London, an exclusive training ground that serves as a feeder school for the Royal Ballet. It’s widely acknowledged to be one of the best ballet schools in the world.

Wilmara says that people often express their surprise at the quality of Sasha’s training and technique. “Oh wow, you’re really good,” Wilmara says by way of example. “Where do you train? Have you been dancing for a long time?” She says that while she tries to give these white people the benefit of the doubt, she knows what they usually mean, and she’d prefer they just come out and say it: “I’m surprised you’re that good. You’re Black and you’re dancing and you’re good.”

Now that Sasha is a little older, Wilmara talks to her about the racist assumptions embedded in those surprised comments. “You know she’s asking because she doesn’t think a person of your color can do this,” she’s told Sasha, who now “gets it when she hears that tone of voice.”

And, she says, she’s been frank with her daughter about the kind of resistance she should expect from the overwhelmingly white ballet establishment if she keeps excelling—which she shows every sign of doing.

It’s moms who do the bulk of the work of ballet parenting: the sewing of costumes, the schedule keeping for rehearsals and recitals. And when you’re a ballet mom to a dancer of color, there’s an even higher price to pay.

“Not everybody’s gonna be thrilled,” Wilmara says, paraphrasing her conversations with Sasha. “Even if you’re not a dancer of color, it’s cutthroat. And on top of that, you are a dancer of color, and so that poses another threat in some ways. So you have to be mindful of your things and what you are doing, and know what things are okay, and [pay attention to] when you are uncomfortable.”

This emotional labor, the work of helping young dancers understand what “that tone of voice” means and why it’s being used—or the work of deciding whether to tell your child about the racist remark you just overheard or absorb it yourself and shield them from it—is a part of parenting not demanded of mothers of white dancers.

Then there’s the payment in time and money required of Wilmara to make sure that Sasha’s ballet experience is as fair and worry-free as possible. Once, at a competition, Wilmara forgot to color in the “nude” pale pink straps on one of Sasha’s competition costumes. Wilmara scrambled to find brown foundation because none of the vendors at the competition had a leotard in Sasha’s skin color.

“Come on, people, you are here,” Wilmara remembers thinking. “There may not be that many [dancers of color], but they are all here and you should be able to bring various shades of nude leos.”

Succeeding in ballet, or even just surviving, requires extra talent, extra work, extra resilience, and extra sacrifices from dancers of color, especially Black and brown dancers, and their parents. White ballet moms might have to talk to their white daughters about how cutthroat ballet is. But they don’t need to issue additional warnings about how a white girl’s success will be received by that cutthroat culture, because almost all the successful girls and women in ballet are white.

“They’ve had to grow up a lot faster,” Wilmara says of Black and brown ballet dancers. “I think the ballet world makes you grow up a lot faster, but on top of that,” there are the “extra hurdles that other dancers don’t have to think about.” There are the overtly racist comments backstage before a performance and the subtly racist “compliments” after. There is time spent frantically searching for the right leotard or adapting the default pink leotard. There is the knowledge, internalized first by parents and then by their kids, that if you make it over all those hurdles your success will be viewed with suspicion and resentment—that ballet does not have a “diversity” problem; it has a white supremacy problem.

“Our kids,” Wilmara says, “are thinking about this and thinking about it early on.”

The organizing principle of ballet—of training, of performance, of making a ballet body—is control. Control of your rigid torso while your foot shoots upward from the hip in a battement. Control of a silent and compliant class of otherwise giggly 9-year-old girls. “The traditional and classical Europeanist aesthetic for the dancing body is dominated and ruled by the erect spine,” wrote dance scholar Brenda Dixon Gottschild in her landmark book The Black Dancing Body. “Verticality is a prime value, with the torso held erect, knees straight, body in vertical alignment. . . . The torso is held still.”

It all demands control. Control of your smiling face as your feet scream in your pointe shoes at the end of a long pas de deux. Control of your weight, of your turnout, of your stretched and strengthened feet that now arch into a shape no ordinary foot can make. “The ballet audience, attuned and habituated to view control as a prime value, applaud its display and are embarrassed when it isn’t fulfilled,” Gottschild wrote.

Discipline, order, adherence to strict and unquestioned rules. That’s what ballet is. When Gottschild asked Seán Curran, a white dancer and choreographer who performed with the Bill T. Jones/Arnie Zane Company, what he pictured when he thought of white dance or white dancing bodies, he said, “Upright. . . . For some reason, ‘proper’ stuck in the head a bit, something that is built and made and constructed rather than is free or flows.” A body that is rigid, obedient, and disciplined, remade from something natural and unruly into something refined and well behaved. Proper. “Whiteness,” Curran said, “values precision and unison.”

Curran’s assessment identifies a central underlying prejudice of white supremacy: the belief that people of color, and their bodies, are wild. Uncivilized, animalistic, subhuman. That white people—who, by contrast, are assumed to be organized and civilized—have both a right and a responsibility to tame that which is untamed and impose order, precision, and unison on it. To suppress and control that which is savage; to press it into something that approaches whiteness but will never be truly white and thus never truly equal.

This is the logic that underpinned white colonization and American slavery. It is also the logic that makes racial segregation possible: that which is pure and organized must be kept separate from that which is profane and undisciplined. And central to this worldview is the idea that the work of white supremacy is unending, not because white supremacy is flawed, but because the very people it seeks to suppress are inherently inferior, naturally incapable of complying. Because of some inborn lack—of will, of understanding, of discipline—people of color will never fully obey, never properly assimilate, never be redeemed by whiteness. In this way, white supremacy perpetuates itself, justifying both its worldview and the permanent need for its existence.

It’s little wonder, then, that ballet—with its fixation on control, discipline, and uprightness—wraps itself so neatly around whiteness. It makes sense that white Americans, reared on the belief that whiteness is synonymous with order and refinement, also believe that people of color have no place, or a limited place, or a conditional place, in classical ballet.

Furthermore, it is easy to see how the ideal ballet body—so controlled, so upright—is everything that white supremacy imagines a Black body is not. And because of deeply ingrained American cultural associations with musculature, loose movement, brute force, and untamed sexuality, the Black body is believed to be everything a ballet body is not permitted to be.

“When we talk about the ballerina,” says Theresa Ruth Howard, a former dancer and a teacher, diversity strategist, and the founder and curator of the digital ballet history archive Memoirs of Blacks in Ballet (MoBBallet), “we’re talking about the ideal, our stereotype of the desirable woman, and that is reserved for white women.”

Howard has made a career of helping the people who run ballet companies and schools to examine their ideas about what makes for a “good” ballet body, asking them to question their biases about the inherent fitness of white bodies and unfitness of other bodies, especially Black bodies. She says that long-standing racist tropes about Black women’s bodies make Blackness and ballerinas seem antithetical.

“You have the trope of either the jezebel, the mammy, or the workhorse of the Black woman,” which are incompatible with desirability, fragility, and sexual purity, the ideal of white womanhood at the heart of the ballerina’s appeal.

“She’s desired. It’s the epitome of beauty, of grace, of elegance, and these are not adjectives that are assigned to Black women,” Howard says. “Especially not darker-skinned Black women. This is why the closer you look to the white European aesthetic as a Black woman, the better chance you have at occupying that role. Especially at a higher level.”

Despite the long tradition of Latin American dancers carving out successful professional careers in the U.S. and the enormous success of Misty Copeland—a light-skinned Black dancer whose ascent to the pinnacle of American ballet was a watershed moment for Black dancers and audiences alike—the archetypal ballerina is still a pale-skinned white woman with slender limbs, negligible breasts and hips, and long, sleek hair. In the American cultural imagination, the ballerina is still white.

George Balanchine famously said that “ballet is woman,” but that’s not the whole truth. Ballet is white woman, or, perhaps more precisely, white womanhood. Ballet is a stronghold of white womanhood, a place where whiteness is the default and white femininity reigns supreme.

Excerpted from Turning Pointe: How a New Generation of Dancers Is Saving Ballet from Itself by Chloe Angyal. Copyright © 2021. Available from Bold Type Books, an imprint of Hachette Book Group, Inc.

[soramei]

Intentional - Part 1

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader (she/her)

Summary: Landing your first real job at JYPE was something short of a miracle. You were prepared to face the new struggles of this elusive career whilst moving to a new country, however, nothing could have prepared you for him. Will stolen glances, secret touches, and hushed nights spent in the recording room ever be enough for the both of you?

Genre: idol!bang chan au, forbidden relationship, coworkers to eventual lovers, slow burn 

Warnings: none right now, eventual smut,

Word Count: 7.3k 

Masterlist

A/N: hey yall this is my first ff im posting on tumblr :D im kinda scared to post but i hope anybody who stumbles on lil ol’ me will join me along the way :) also important!!! i made oc/reader asian cus i am lol (and this whole thing is basically a glorified self insert) so plz keep this in mind when reading!! oh god i didnt realize how slow this first part was sry... 

The cold silence of the room felt like stabs at your inside. You commanded your feet to stop bouncing up and down as you unconsciously started to bite off the dead skin of your bottom lip. The white corporate light from above reflected off your brand new lanyard hanging delicately from your neck. You felt the coarse blue fabric rub against your neck as you mindlessly fiddled with your lanyard; the newly printed photo of your face stared back at you with a smile. 

The creak of the door to your left was what broke you from your nervous fidgets. Whipping your head up from your lanyard, you immediately stood up ready to bow to whoever came through that door. 

It was a girl. She looked around the same age as you, if not older. Her attire was what gave her away. Her appearance essentially mirrored yours: hair tied back into a ponytail with a white blouse and black work pants. She also had the familiar blue ‘JYPE’ labeled strap hanging from her neck. 

“Hello,” you spoke meekly, scared to disturb the cold silence that had a hold on the room you were in. 

“Hello,” she replied. “My name is Choi Na-eun, I’m the new social media strategist intern and today is my first day.”

This is so relieving, you thought, another newbie to share the stress with me. 

“This is my first day too,” you perked up, “I’ll be starting as the new junior Chinese marketing assistant.” 

Getting the acceptance email from JYP Entertainment was definitely a high point in your life. The feeling of butterflies swarming your insides as you clicked the email open only to see your acceptance was immediately locked as a core memory. All the years of memorizing thousands of Korean and English vocabulary flashcards, the panic attacks before your finance exams, and the many, many late night coffee breaks were worth it the moment you received your first legitimate job offer, and from the esteemed JYP Entertainment company no less. 

“Chinese marketing?” Na-eun asked. “So you aren’t from here, I take it.” 

You shook your head. “I am from China. I completed my degree a while ago with a major in Language and a minor in Business. To be honest, I’ve done internships back home, but it’s been my dream to move to a new country.”

All of what you said was true. Up until now, your surroundings have never changed in all of your twenty-three years living. From the walk with your grandmother to daycare to the vast campus of your university, the view of your city has never changed. Your social circle stayed stagnant since you were able to talk and your love life was — for a lack of a better word — uneventful. 

It wasn’t until the day you decided to start applying for careers outside your home country that you felt hopeful. Hopeful that you could find an escape from your inert lifestyle and escape the burnout and stress that has been building up over the years. And so, on a day when you were feeling unusually confident, you gathered up the courage and spent hours sending out applications to organizations all over Asia that pertained to your specific degree. The applications were mainly for small jobs at small companies, however, your strange spike of motivation gave you the confidence to apply to the everso esteemed JYP Entertainment located in Korea. Of course you knew about this company — you and your friends played songs by ‘Twice’ nonstop back in highschool — but you didn’t realize the full power that this company had on the entertainment market until you did your full research. To say that you thought you had no chance was an understatement. This application was so far of a reach that you purposefully forced your mind to erase all memory of even applying. 

However, with your education, your work experience, and whatever tiny bit of luck you had, you somehow made it through the initial application process. Then the next. And the next. Then the interview. And now, you were nervously sitting in this white painted room with Na-eun, in a completely new country, waiting for your manager to come greet you. 

“So you’re from China? You’ve got to teach me chinese sometime.” Na-eun smiled. 

You giggled in return while nodding your head. You were relieved that you’ve met a potential friend so early in your career in this company. This was one of your big worries. With your social circle being so stagnant for the majority of your life back in China, you rarely had the opportunity to meet new people, much less make new friends. 

You were about to inquire more into Na-eun’s life when the door to your left abruptly opened. In the blink of an eye, three new people strutted in — two women and one man. They seemed to be higher status than you and Na-eun judging by their attire. All three were styled in some type of blazer and dress pants and there was no lanyard to be found on any of them. 

“Hello new employees,” the man greeted. Judging by his face, he looked to be in his late thirties at the least. His hair was styled back neatly and his lips slanted up, giving him a fox-like appearance. “I am Executive Manager Kim. Joined beside me on the left is Social Media Manager An and to my right is Marketing Manager Chen.” 

Both you and Na-eun immediately stood up to bow and introduce yourselves. 

“Hello. My name is Choi Na-eun, I’m the new social media strategist intern.” Na-eun said. 

“Hello. My name is y/n, I’m the new junior Chinese marketing assistant.” You repeated after her, copying exactly what she said. You did not want to screw anything up on your first day, especially your first impression. 

Manager Kim reached over to Na-eun, introducing himself and giving her a firm handshake. He then slowly moved over to you, and reached for your hand. 

“Y/n,” he gave time for your name to settle on his tongue as he gave a sly smile. “You’re not from here, aren't you?”

You shook your head ‘no’. “No, sir. I’m from China where I studied language and business. I hope to do well here as the Chinese marketing assistant.” You replied, mentally cursing yourself for sounding so timid. 

“I’m glad to hear,” Manager Kim chuckled, “I’m sure you’ll treat me and your other managers well.”

You felt an uncomfortable shiver pass through you as he brushed his thumb along your hand before letting go. This feeling was excused as nervousness, after all, this was your first day and your first time meeting your higher-ups. 

You introduced yourself to Manager Chen, assuming that she would be the one you were to assist in your time here at JYPE. Judging by her last name, you presumed that she was Chinese as well. 

“Forgive me for being so straight up Manager Chen, but are you Chinese?” You asked. 

“That is alright, y/n,” she smiled, “I’m not. My Husband is, but I’ve lived in China for more than half my life. I don’t want to brag, but my mandarin has gotten proficient over the past decade or so.”

Proficient? It’s amazing. You thought. This first day was turning out better than you thought. Other than the weird feeling you received from Manager Kim, everything was turning out splendid. A potential friend and a manager that could speak your first language.

“Since it’s about noon right now,” Manager Kim took a look at his watch, “What do you all think about some lunch?” 

The other managers nod their heads in agreement and gestures for you and Na-eun to follow them out of the waiting room you were in for so long. 

The whole building seemed so clean. With every corner lit, by natural light or artificial light, you could clearly see that every room, every piece of furniture and decor had been purposefully placed. You couldn’t help but have a stupid look of awe plastered on your face as you mindlessly follow your superiors over to the cafeteria.  

You turned your head over to Na-eun and gave her a tilt of the eyebrow, silently saying wow, this is where we work. 

With the turn of a corner and several silent strides, your little group made it to the cafeteria. 

The difference between your claustrophobic waiting room and this vast room was astonishing. With countless tables and romantic yellow lighting, this place almost resembled a five star restaurant. You’ve never seen a cafeteria as extravagant and clean as this before. However, to be fair, you’ve never had the experience of working with such a large corporation before. 

The managers led you to the serving station where you grabbed yourself a tray and proceeded to spoon small portions of rice and side dishes onto your plate. This cuisine was different to what you were used to, but nonetheless looked delicious. You were prepared for the small cultural differences, especially with the food, but from everything you’ve witnessed so far, the culture shock would be easier to overcome than what you’ve anticipated. 

“Have this soup y/n,” Manager Kim’s grating voice came from in front of you, interrupting your inner monologue. “It’s good for your complexion.” 

As Manager Kim hands over the bowl of soup, you feel the sleeve of his blazer brush up against your shoulder, causing the pit of your stomach to drop.

First day nerves. That was what this feeling was. You thought. 

You quietly thanked him with a small nod and walked briskly from the service line, trying to find where Na-eun went with the other two managers. Thankfully, they were just a step away and you quickly made your way over to the comfortable spot beside Na-eun. She gave you a small grin and you both followed your way to a table right in the middle of the room. 

Soon, all five chairs of the table got filled and sounds of chopsticks tapping and scraping against plates and bowls filled your ears. An awkward silence dominates your table as you start to pick at your food. 

“So,” Manager Chen cleared her throat, “after lunch I was thinking we should go to a meeting room and discuss Miss. Y/n’s role in our new project.”

“I was thinking the same for our new Intern Choi.” Manager An cut in, “What do you think, Manager Kim?” 

“It all sounds good. I will be accompanying Manager Chen to her meeting room as I wish to also further discuss the preliminary steps for our project.” Manager Kim looked from Manager Chen over to you. 

“Project?” You ask. 

“We’ve had a very successful year with our idol groups and we wanted to ride this success and start marketing in China. Recently, we’ve noticed a very large and growing Chinese audience for this group. I’m sure you’re very curious now, however we can discuss further details once we are in the meeting room.” Manager Chen replies while taking a sip of the water in her glass. 

Manager Chen appeared to be a very professional and respectable woman. With prominent collarbones and wide shoulders, she easily looked the part of a confident and adored manager. She needed minimal makeup to highlight her tall cheekbones, and even with a short heel on her feet she seemed to tower over you. However, her warm and comforting voice was what broke her intimidating demeanour. Just listening to her voice felt like you were back in your high school classroom with your favourite teacher explaining the motif of a sad love poem. 

After some more awkward conversations mixed with a few work discussions, the five of you finished the delicious food on your trays. 

“Please excuse me whilst I head to the restroom” Na-eun spoke up after your group finished clearing the table. 

“Please excuse me as well.” You quickly followed, bowing as you both ventured off to the washrooms. 

I should get her number so I’m not completely a loner in this place, you thought to yourself. And so, after a quick inner struggle to speak up, you finally decided to ask. 

“Hey, should we exchange contacts? I don’t wanna look like the newbie eating in the cafeteria alone after today.” You chuckled. 

“Totally!” Na-eun beamed. “I was actually thinking the same thing…” 

And so, you both quickly exchanged each other's contact as you made your way to the restrooms. 

The hall of the washrooms were narrow, hidden away from the main cafeteria. You walked in, deciding you only wanted to retouch your hair and makeup before your first official meeting. You carefully fix the loose hairs that somehow escaped the confines of your elastic and dab on a fresh layer of foundation before applying your lipstick which rubbed off while eating. Looking over at Na-eun, you see she’s quite in the zone redoing her mascara. 

“Hey, I’ll just wait for you in the hall.” You said. 

Na-eun gave you a disinterested nod back as she kept focusing on her mascara. 

You walked to the end of the hall, leaned against the wall, and pulled out your phone. Smiling, you opened the virtual Tamagotchi app and saw your little friend staring back at you, bouncing up and down. The bundle of virtual pixels happily bounced as you fed and bathed it, making you happier in return. Playing this game, you were so entranced with your phone that the abrupt closing of the washroom doors broke you out of your hypnosis fast, causing you to flinch and drop your phone. 

You looked up, only to see a brown haired man wearing a long sleeved black shirt. The hem of his sleeve fell, covering his hand as he bent down to pick up your phone. He stood back up, fully facing you now and you immediately recognized who he was. You weren’t a fool, of course you did all your research on the artists of JYPE before applying for the job. Looking down at you right now, holding your phone in his hand, was Bang Chan of Stray Kids. 

The wispy tufts of his brown hair bounced over his forehead as he stepped over to you. He smiled, his dimple poking out of his cheek, and handed your phone back to you. “I think you dropped this.”  

Blushing tomato red, you embarrassingly accepted the phone, trying not to make your shaking hands noticeable. It seemed like that failed, however, as you noticed him glance at your hands and dimple grow deeper. 

“Thank you.” You meekly chirped and lowered your head, still in awe that you somehow bumped into a JYPE idol in the bathroom hallway of a cafeteria. 

“It’s good that there’s no cracks.” Bang Chan said, looking in your eyes. 

You looked back into his eyes. His smile never left his face, and you physically felt the warmth radiating off his body like rays from the sun. Some boring, objective part of your brain knew this interaction only lasted a fraction of a second, but you swore that time froze.

“Hyung!” A distant voice called. 

Your trance was broken as Bang Chan looked over to the person calling his name. He turned back to you, politely bowed, and casually sauntered over to the man who called him. 

What just happened? Your inner monologue ran, still trying to process the embarrassing interaction. The scent of his cologne lingered, swirling the atmosphere around your body. 

Thankfully, you didn’t have too much time to dwell on this interaction as Na-eun finally opened the washroom doors and was making her way toward you. 

You and Na-eun trailed behind the managers until you reached the set of elevators. It was there where you had to unfortunately separate from your comfort work buddy as she hopped in the elevator across from yours with Manager An. The other two managers led you to the elevator at the end and pressed the button for your destination floor. The ride in the elevator was silent. You stood there, fiddling with your nails. 

Once the elevator gave the ding of arrival, the three of you headed down a hall where you presumed had the meeting room. 

Manager Kim took a look at the watch on his wrist. “We are a minute late, everybody should be there already. Enter silently and respectfully.” He said in a stern voice.

You reached the frosted glass door of the meeting room and entered through the already opened door. The managers followed behind you with Manager Chen being the last one in and closing the door. 

Your eyes widened at whom you saw.

There was Bang Chan, who sat in all his glory, staring right into your eyes with his mouth ajar. His shocked expression didn't last long, however, as he quickly composed himself to fit with the professional atmosphere of this room. 

But why was he here? You thought. He’s an artist, isn’t this a management meeting? 

Your inner monologue was broken by Manager Kim’s stern voice. “Y/n, why don’t you sit with me for today?” He asked with a slight tilt of the lips. His hand was hovering above your back, almost guiding you to the seat just right of the head chair. 

Your heart rate quickened. There was no way that you could handle sitting right beside a high position manager on your first day. You barely knew what your duties entailed, you definitely could not handle the pressure of this seat today. You whipped your head around to look for Manager Chen. She was already sitting in her seat, looking like she was right at home. 

“Manager Kim, if you don’t mind, I would like to sit in this position for today, '' a voice spoke up, “I have a lot of new ideas I’d like to share that are written in my notes.” 

Bang Chan.

He paused a brief second, eyes switching between you and Manager Kim, and raised his iPad to show the screen filled with words. 

“I don’t mind at all, go ahead.” Manager Kim monotonously replied. He then made his way to the head chair. 

You looked over at Bang Chan, trying to subtly send the most grateful facial expression over to him. He returned your look, slightly grinning as his fingers tapped on the screen of his iPad and sat down to the right of Manager Kim. You looked over to see Manager Chen gesturing you to sit in the chair beside her and swiftly made your way over. At your seat, she handed you a notepad and pen, both adorned with the JYPE logo. 

“Now, as of 1:02 p.m., September first, the meeting will officially begin.” Manager Kim clasped his hands together on top of the table. “As most of you already know, we are in the preliminary stages of planning a Chinese debut for our artist group ‘Stray Kids’. All we have right now is the estimated timeline, which is four months. We have a basic grasp of the concept we are working towards, however, as you all know, trends are always changing and growing. While we are working to create a new and original concept for Stray Kids, we also want the concept to gather as much audience reception as possible.” 

Wow. That was a lot to take in. Your hands struggled to keep up with writing down what Manager Kim was saying. You knew this relatively new group was really starting to explode in the past year, but a debut in another country? This group must work really hard to even have the company consider a step as risky as this. So this is why Bang Chan is also involved in this meeting. 

You peaked your head up from your notepad. Bang Chan sat across from you, one hand on his chin and the other one holding the pen to his tablet. 

Manager Kim then carefully discussed the duties that each group in the room would take. Many of the jobs were directly involved with developing the concept itself, such as producing music, concept art, and theme development. Your pen never took a break from gliding on the notepad as you hurriedly jotted down everything that Manager Kim said. 

Eventually, Manager Kim’s delegations moved to Manager Chen. “Manager Chen, I’ll let you take over from here.” 

“Thank you Manager Kim,” Manager Chen cleared her throat. “While my main job here was to market Korean comebacks towards the Chinese audience, this new project changes things up a bit. Now, not only will I be in charge of marketing to the Chinese audience, but I will also be directly in charge of the concept itself. I will be working carefully with our team in China to monitor the trends which we can incorporate into our debut.

“This is my new assistant, y/n,” She turned and gestured to you. You politely nodded your head. “She will be gathering information on useful trends and reporting back to me, as well as some translating. Please report any ideas that you deem useful to her by the end of every week for her to sort through and deliver to me.” 

You almost want to call Manager Chen crazy for giving you so much power, after all, you were only starting out as her assistant. Despite this, however, you were determined to go above and beyond with the new responsibilities given to you, after all, you knew that choosing to work in an organization as big as JYPE would take blood, sweat, and tears. 

After some clarifications given by Manager Chen and a few more questions directed at her, Manager Kim took the reins back in his hands. 

“Now, as I’m sure you all know, this is Bang Chan: the leader of Stray Kids. Although our management team is in charge of this debut, we like to include the opinions of artists whenever possible. He will make an appearance whenever he can and act as a representative of Stray Kids, sharing their ideas and opinions.” Manager Kim explained. 

Bang Chan politely introduced himself, and quickly went on to express some concerns of his members. He made sure that each concern was answered thoroughly by Manager Kim before moving on to the next. 

“As for our concept ideas,” Bang Chan’s soft brown eyes met yours, “will I have to report to y/n?” 

You felt your ears redden. 

“You could, yes,” Manager Kim straightened his back, “but if you find the weekly deadlines too much of a problem, you may just report to me or at any subsequent meeting.” 

“No worries sir,” Bang Chan’s eyes lingered on yours for a fraction of a second more before grinning at Manager Kim, “I’m always punctual.”  

The rest of the meeting consisted of more introductions and preliminary plans. After about an hour, everybody seemed satisfied with the contents of the meeting and were starting to pack up all their clutter on the table. You looked over at Manager Chen, silently asking what should I do next? 

Manager Chen smiled. “Let's head to my floor. I can give you a quick tour, you can get settled at your desk. I have some paperwork that I’m almost done with; I’m sure you’ll have no problem finishing it for me.” She already was standing up and straightening over the creases of her jacket. 

You stood up as well and followed behind Manager Chen like a lost baby duckling. You both made your way over to Manager Kim to bid farewell. You politely thanked him, said your goodbyes, and were about to leave when he stopped the two of you. 

“Manager Chen, let’s go out for drinks tonight.” Manager Kim took a look at the intricate watch on his wrist. “With our whole team, of course. It’ll be a welcoming night and we can get to know the people on our team better.” 

“That’s a great idea, Manager Kim,” Manager Chen nodded at his idea in approval. She turned on her iPad to quickly get a glimpse at her schedule. “What do you think y/n? Can you make it tonight? I know this is very last moment, but I think it’ll be a great opportunity for you to get to know your coworkers better.” 

“I should be able to make it.” You definitely could make it. You had no plans anyways. 

“Am I invited to this top secret party you’re all having?” A now very distinguishable voice came from behind you. Bang Chan stared at Manager Kim with a very mischievous expression. 

“Would your manager allow it?” Manager Kim questioned, knitting his eyebrows. 

“I’m on a diet, so I can’t drink alcohol or eat anything,” Bang Chan’s nose scrunched up in annoyance, “but I want to be as involved as I can. Just because I’m an idol doesn’t mean I can’t help behind the scenes as well.”

“Very well,” Manager Kim nodded with a fixed expression, “Let’s all meet at that restaurant about a block away west. I’ll go tell the others.” And with that, Manager Kim left you, Manager Chen, and Bang Chan to stand in awkward silence. 

“Well,” Bang Chan cleared his throat and clapped his hands together, “I’ll get going as well to do some work now, but it was nice meeting the both of you.” 

“You as well.” Manager Chen replied for the both of you and Bang Chan left soon after. 

Manager Chen then led you to the elevators again and you headed up yet another few floors to reach your destination. You nervously fiddled with your hair as you silently waited behind your boss, looking up at the smooth lines of her blazer every few seconds. The elevator doors dinged, letting you know of its arrival. The two of you swiftly headed out the elevators and walked to what you presumed was Manager Chen’s office area. You kept following behind Manager Chen in silence before you stopped in front of a set of doors that looked identical to the ones at the previous meeting room. Manager Chen opened the doors for you, and you headed in. 

You paused a step in, looking wide-eyed at the interior. The office was clean. A big glass desk sat right in the middle of the vast room in front of a huge set of windows. There were a couple of soft looking chairs placed right before the desk with a huge rug right underneath it. Over to your left, you spotted a water dispenser with a kettle right beside it. You stared at the room a bit longer before realizing you must have looked very stupid with that astonished look on your face. 

“Is this your office, Manager Chen?” You asked. 

“Yes. It seems that you like it,” She chuckled. You felt the heat rise to your ears. 

“Since you’ll be working so close to me, I’m sure you’ll be happy to come here more often.” 

“Thanks.” You awkwardly laughed. You blamed your bad response on the fact that you still weren’t familiar with the language, not your blatant awkwardness. 

Manager Chen made her way over to her desk, picking up a small stack of papers. “These are some letters I’ve received from several designer companies in China. Since we are still in the very preliminary stages of this project, we would like to keep our options open for the stylists here.” She picks an annotated letter from the pile. “I’ve translated and created a summary of the main points of this letter. There are a few more left which I believe I can trust you with. Just do as I did with this letter and add the sample pictures along with it.”

You quickly complied, taking the stack of papers from her hands. 

“I’ll show you to your new work space.” She led you out of your office and over to a cubicle that wasn’t too far away. It was considerably smaller compared to Manager Chen’s office, but you thought it had a certain coziness to it. Plus, working close to your coworkers could also boost your motivation. “Here is your desk, it’s not the most exciting thing, but you may bring photos or whatnot to decorate it. Now, I’ll let you settle in and get started on your work. You can meet me at my office around six, I can double check your work before we leave.” 

You thanked her before she left and immediately got started on your work. You diligently translated the whole of the letters before picking out the main points that matched with Manager Chen’s example. After this was done, you included the photos that came with each letter and slipped them into their own cozy folder. This work was monotonous, sure, but it was something you needed on your hectic first day here. 

You were so captivated by your work that you completely forgot about the time. The sun was starting to set, and you only remembered to look at the time after you tucked your last letter neatly in its folder. You briefly panicked, praying that you weren’t making your manager wait. Thankfully, it was only a quarter until six. You took the next fifteen minutes double checking your work, making sure to also check the time every once in a while. At exactly six, you left your desk and scurried over to the big doors of Manager Chen’s office. 

Knocking a couple times, you waited patiently to be let in. 

“Come in.” 

You let yourself in, handing the papers to your manager, then sat quietly in one of the chairs before her desk, crossing your fingers together. You fiddled with your thumbs, patiently waiting for Manager Chen to speak up. 

“Not bad, this is some decent work.” Manager Chen announced as soon as she finished glossing over your work. “I’ve noted some places that you can either fix or improve. I’ll scan them and hand you a copy tomorrow.” 

You let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding. A tidal wave of relief washed over you as you let yourself relax further into your chain. Not bad, this is some decent work. You proudly repeated this moment in your brain. Although you were disappointed with the mistakes that you let slip through, to get somewhat of a compliment on your first day meant a lot to you. 

“Shall we get going now?” Manager Chen asked. 

You grabbed your bag and stood up. “I’ll let you lead the way.” 

                                                         _______

It seemed like all you were doing on your first day was following Manager Chen around like a lost puppy. The situation right now was no exception either, as you tried to copy her confident strides over to the restaurant a block down. You watched the busy rush hour streets and sidewalks fill with people, some people going home after a long day, some people going to party just like you.

Soon, after a few more minutes of walking, the both of you arrived at the small wooden doors of the restaurants. It seemed like the both of you were a bit late as Manager Kim was already waiting in front of the entrance with the rest of the team. Bang Chan was also there, head down looking at his phone. 

“Sorry we’re late, have you been waiting for long?” Manager Chen somehow sounded confident despite making everybody wait on her.

Her voice seemed to have caught everybody’s attention. You watched as Bang Chan swiftly turned his head up from his phone, his eyes making contact with yours. You immediately focused your eyes somewhere else, trying to casually play off the fact that your eyes subconsciously drifted to him. 

“We’ve only been waiting for a couple minutes.” Manager Kim gave a tight smile. “Let’s go in before you all get too cold.” 

Your little group of around ten people slowly entered the doors, filling the restaurant. Manager Kim called over a waitress, signaling that you had ten people in your group, and let the waitress lead you all to a long wooden table. 

The restaurant was nice, nothing too fancy, but that’s how you could tell the food was good. With dim lighting and tightly packed tables, it made you feel fuzzy and warm on the inside. 

However, your thoughts on the restaurant were soon broken by a hand on your shoulder. 

“Y/n, why don’t you sit with me?” Manager Kim’s lips curled up, “After all, this is a work gathering, how good of a boss would I be if I didn’t even treat my newest team member to a drink?” 

Your brain was in shambles. You seriously didn’t feel comfortable sitting with him all night. However, the logical side of your brain was saying something different. He’s just being nice as a boss. You don’t know how people in this country act anyways, stop being paranoid. 

It seemed like your inner turmoil was taking longer than necessary, as you heard another familiar voice speak up. 

“Manager Kim-” Bang Chan called out. 

“You don’t need to sit with me here, Bang Chan.” Manager Kim chuckled as he stared directly in Bang Chan’s eyes. “I’d rather not talk about work outside the office.”

You watched as Bang Chan’s eyebrows furrowed, looking back to you in reluctance. You smiled at him before turning your attention to Manager Kim. It was just one night, right? Plus, there’s no harm in establishing a good impression with your boss. 

“I’ll sit with you, Manager Kim.” You smiled, “thanks for offering.”

And so, you took your seat next to Manager Kim at the table. Bang Chan, who was to your left, looked askance at Manager Kim for a brief second before his facial expression did a complete 180. His familiar, boy-ish smile was plastered on his face like it was the most natural thing. 

When the menus came, everybody at the table — including you — started to order onslaughts of food and alcohol. After brief moments of casual chatter about topics such as the weather or how good the food was here, everything that was ordered arrived at your table.

You grabbed a can of beer and started sipping on it. You’ve drank before — of course — with your old friends at university, but it’s been at least a year since you last did. Better ease myself in. You thought. 

However, your preconceived plans were ruined when a small glass of clear liquor got pushed in front of you. 

“Y/n, surely you aren’t going to sip on that can all night.” The ends of Manager Kim’s lips curled up. 

“Wasn’t planning to, sir.” You replied while tipping the glass up and into your mouth. The bitter liquid burned your throat as it went down. You took a moment to recollect your surroundings. Seems like your tolerance was higher than you thought. 

“Bang Chan, do you not drink? Why not eat something then?” Manager Chen pointed to the food on the table. 

“No can do ma’am, I’m on a strict diet. My manager would kill me.” Bang Chan pointed to his glass of water. 

“In that case,” Manager Chen filled another glass, “Y/n, have another drink.” She slid the glass down the table in front of you. 

You gladly accepted your second drink, downing the alcohol in one go. Your eyes instinctively squeezed together as you felt your throat burn. From the tips of your ears to the ends of your toes, your whole body felt warm and alive. 

You lost track of the time. As your conversations got livelier, your head got fuzzier. You stopped counting your drinks after four, especially since so many people were eager to offer the new employee a drink. Although your vision was starting to blur, you could still think straight. I can still think, you thought to yourself, still — what a powerful buzz.

Your thoughts ran rampant in your mind as you stared at the lightbulb across the room. What a pretty light. So bright. Warm. 

“Y/n.”

Was the light calling your name? 

“Y/n!” 

Your eyes focused again and snapped away from the lightbulb. Where was the voice coming from? You slowly turned your head. Bang Chan.

“Hi.” You smiled. 

“Hi.” He smiled back. So bright. Warm. “It’s been hours and I haven’t even offered you a drink yet.” 

You tried to focus your eyes on his face as he slid the glass over to you. One more drink wouldn’t hurt your buzz, right?  

You gladly accepted, slowly moving your hand over to the glass to pick the clear liquid up. It went down in one go just like all the others. 

Huh? Was this water? 

You struggled to focus your eyes on the person who offered you the drink. “That was yummy.” 

“I bet it was,” the talking blur chuckled, “How about another one?”

You nodded, then took the glass he slid towards you. It’s funny how water flows even when in a cup. Water. You needed to pee. 

“Hey,” your words dragged out, “where’s uh, where’s the washroom?”

“Follow me. I’ll show you.” Manager Kim stood up and reached his hand out towards you. You didn’t want to take it, but it seemed like nobody was noticing his offer. 

Reluctantly, you took his hand and stood up, only to stumble down again. Did your knees not want to listen? 

“Whoa there, better hold on.” Manager Kim said. 

“No, I can walk. I-I can walk.” You let go of Manager Kim and tried to focus all your brainpower on moving your feet in a straight line. This tactic only worked for a second, however, as your knees gave in and you stumbled down. 

“It’s obvious that you can’t.” Manager Kim’s lips turned up. “It’s time for you to go home. I’ll take you back.” 

What? No. You didn’t want Manager Kim to take you home, not after all the awkward events of today and the general vibe from him. You tried to express your thoughts, but nothing came out of your mouth. 

“Manager Kim, you’ve been drinking!” Bang Chan’s voice came from some part of the room. “It’s not safe to drive, I’ll call a taxi for you.” 

“What about Y/n here? I’ll get a taxi for us both.” Manager Kim said. 

“I called my manager earlier to pick me up, we can drop her off along the way. It’s not a good idea to put two drunk people in a car. I’m completely sober right now, so let me do all the work.” Bang Chan grinned, patting Manager Kim on his shoulder. 

“Is that what you want, Y/n?” Manager Kim glared. 

You dizzily nodded. 

“Alright. In that case, I can call my own taxi later.” Manager Kim grimaced. 

“Stay safe, Manager Kim.” Bang Chan smiled. He turned to you. “My manager’s been waiting outside for a while now, do you want to leave now?” 

You nodded. You tried to start walking again, but your damn knees just wouldn’t listen. 

“Do you want to hold on to me?” Bang Chan knitted his brows together and held out an arm.

“I,” you slurred, “can walk.” You tried to start your feet again, only to end up stumbling down. 

“I know you can,” Bang Chan said as he reached his hands out to stabilize you, “but — ah —  I’m really tired after today. Can you hold on to my arm so I won’t fall out of exhaustion?” 

You agreed to help him. Bang Chan waved to everybody still at the table before leading the two of you out to a black SUV. He allowed you to stumble your way in the back seats first before sliding in himself. He asked you for your address, which took many tries for you to accurately type it into his phone. 

You leaned your head against the window, staring at passing blurred lights as Bang Chan’s manager started driving. Just being away from the loud and bright environment seemed to have cleared your head a little, but the pounding would not stop. You cursed yourself for being so irresponsible on your first day, especially because you were still alone in this new country.   

“Hey,” you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder, “want some water?” You looked over to see Bang Chan holding out a plastic bottle with the lid screwed off. 

You languidly reached your hand out for the bottle and gulped down as much water as you could in one breath before handing it back to him. The street lights started getting blurrier as you tried to fight exhaustion, the muscles in your eyelids starting to get more and more uncontrollable. 

“Y/n.” 

“Hmm?”

“Don’t fall asleep yet, we’re almost there. Ten more minutes.” 

You couldn’t hear anything after that, however, as you felt your eyes give up on you and your body fall into a deep sleep. 

“Y/n… Y/n.” A familiar voice called.

You fluttered your eyes open, your head pounding. Not knowing where you were, you surveyed your surroundings in a panic. It seemed as though you were in the back of a car… Parked outside of your apartment building? 

“Hey, you’re finally awake.” Bang Chan’s voice entered your ear. It all came rushing back to you; the restaurant, the drinking, entering the SUV. 

“How long have we been parked here?” Your groggy voice sounded inhuman. You had to clear your throat a couple times. 

“It’s only been twenty or so minutes. I’m not allowed to leave the car, are you able to get home alone? I can ask my manager to go with you.” Bang Chan scratched the back of his neck. 

“I should be fine.” You mumbled, a bit embarrassed to have fallen asleep in the car of a person you just met that day. This wasn’t even his car, it was his manager’s. 

“Hey… can I put my number in your phone?” Bang Chan avoided your eyes. “Just so you can tell me when you get home.” He quickly added. 

“Okay.” You awkwardly handed him your phone with your contacts already opened. He quickly typed his phone number in before handing it back to you. 

“Text me when you get home. Remember to lock your door, okay?” 

You thank both him and his manager before hurrying back to your apartment. Your head was still pounding unrelentlessly as you pressed the elevator button for your floor. The events of today were still unprocessed in your brain. You met a potential friend, which was a highlight. However, you also met two higher up managers and an actual idol, only to get hilariously drunk in the presence of. At least it’ll make a good story to tell my mom. You thought. 

In no time, you made it in your apartment and locked the door behind you, remembering what Bang Chan told you in the car. You texted the new number in your phone. 

Y/n: Hi. It’s y/n. I just entered my apartment.

Not even a minute later, your phone lit up, signaling a new text message. 

Bang Chan: great!! remember to lock the doooor hahaha ( ◕ω◕✿ )

You subconsciously grin at your phone. Cute. Throwing your phone haphazardly on your bed, you begrudgingly began your night routine. After washing up and throwing on a random shirt from your closet, you fell on your bed ready to sleep. You were about to close your eyes when your phone lit up again with a ding. It was another text.

Bang Chan: Hey… Just so you know, if you ever feel unsafe around the office just tell me okay? I’ll always try to help you in whatever way I can.

[bonjour-rainycity]

Imagine: Being friends with Alice and asking Carlisle for help on your chemistry homework

Characters: Cullen family, female reader

Rating: G

Word count: 2120

Warnings: None

Request by anon: Wait, omg I’m so happy I found a blog that’s updated recently and I’m definitely gonna ✨stalk✨ your blog and read all your writing after hw but if you’re still doing requests, I thought of something that I would just love to see written. And this could be short or something, y’know? It can be whatever you want it to be, but what if the reader is somewhat friends with the Cullens? Reader (maybe like 20 years old?) is invited to their house one weekend after bumping into Alice and becoming friends and from passing conversation, reader knows that Carlisle is a doctor so she asks him if he could help her with her organic chemistry hw cause she’s studying to be a med student? 

A/n Wow I’m so sorry this took me so long! It’s such a cute request and I loved writing it! Thanks for sending it in and for being patient with me :)

Shoot.

Mentally, I groan, stopping my progress towards my car.

I still have chem homework.

I fiddle with the keys in my hand, contemplating. You could go home…lay in bed…maybe with a pint of ice cream…and pass out in a stress and sugar-induced coma.

Oh, how tempting.

But then I remind myself of why I’m putting myself through the hell that is a STEM degree, and turn on my heel, heading back to campus. I know I won’t get any work done if I go home, so the library it is! Thank goodness it’s open twenty-four hours, because it’s creeping up to eleven and I don’t have the heart to return to one of the academic buildings.

Seeing as it’s Friday night, the library isn’t crowded. Still, I push past all the tables on the first floor and head up to my favorite spot on the second. Settling in at my favorite partially secluded table, I pull out my organic chemistry textbook, pop in my earbuds, and get to work.

{***}

A small, pale hand skims over the table near my book, and I look up with a start.

Alice Cullen stands by my desk, clutching a set of books that look too heavy for her thin arms, but she seems to be managing fine. She and I met during the first week of classes, and have been tentative friends ever since. We don’t see much of each other, given our varying degree programs, but she always greets me with a friendly smile and an offer to join her to study. I pull out my headphones, and give her a tired smile. “Hey, how’s it going?”

“Good!” She smiles excitedly, somehow keeping her energy levels at—I check the time on my phone—1:12 am! “Have you been here for long?”

I shrug, feeling the weight of the late hour on my shoulders. “Since around eleven. I was going home but then I forgot I have o-chem homework. I don’t think it should be taking me this long, but I’m struggling. Thankfully only half of it is due in the morning. The rest isn’t due until after the weekend.”

Alice peers over to look at my book and the problems I work through in my notebook. “Oh, those do look hard. But you know, my dad is a doctor, and he probably knows this stuff like the back of his hand. He’d be more than happy to help you.”

I blanch. An invitation to the Cullen’s house? And free help on o-chem homework?

But then I remember my manners. “Oh, thank you, but I couldn’t—”

“Please,” she squeaks, balancing her books in one arm and using the other to retrieve her phone. “We’d be happy to have you over! I’ll let my family know. Does tomorrow around lunchtime work?”

“Uh,” I swallow, not sure I’m believing my ears. “That works great, thank you! I can bring the food?”

She shakes her head, waving off the offer. “Don’t worry about it—Mom loves to cook and will be excited to really use the kitchen. Oh! And there’s this new series my sisters and I have been dying to watch. It’s called Broadchurch. Have you heard of it? Maybe we can start it and see if it’s any good!”

I nod dumbly, too tired and relieved for the help to refuse again. “That sounds fun! Thank you.”

“Of course,” she smiles, shrugging like it’s nothing. “What are friends for?”

My smile softens. She considers us friends. “Do you want to walk out together? It’s pretty late.”

She beams and waits while I collect my stuff.

{***}

I pull up to the front of the massive house.

Alice is waiting for me on the porch. She waves excitedly, and I notice her fiancé standing near the door, looking uncomfortable. I stifle a chuckle. It’s well-known that Jasper, introvert in every sense of the word, fell hard for Alice who is the embodiment of an extravert. I wave, grabbing my backpack and stepping out of the car.

“Welcome,” Alice practically shouts. Jasper gives me a polite nod.

I smile at the two of them, calling out my hello’s and climbing the stairs to the porch. The second Jasper opens the door, I’m greeted by the warm smile of Esme Cullen.

“Hello, Y/n, welcome to our home! We are so happy to have you here.” She extends a warm smile, one I can’t help but return immediately.

Alice leads us straight to the living room, where two of her adoptive siblings, Emmett and Rosalie, lounge. Rosalie sketches something I can’t see, and Emmett yells loudly at the TV, losing at a video game.

“Beat it, Emmett,” Alice chirps, dancing over and taking the controller from his hands. “We’re going to watch Broadchurch.”

Putting his frustration at the game aside, Emmett grins, standing and ruffling Alice’s hair. “Alright, I was getting my ass kicked anyway. Hey, Y/n, good to see you again.”

I return his greeting, familiar with Emmett from an intro to theatre class we had together last semester. The image of his interpretation of Juliet for our final project comes to mind, and I have to stifle a laugh. Emmett goes to leave the room, pulling Jasper with him.

“Send Bella down, would you,” Alice calls after them, already settling on the couch. “Rose, you know Y/n, right?”

Rosalie looks up from her sketching. She smiles briefly at me, then returns to her task. I sit awkwardly next to Alice, waiting for Bella so we can start the show.

“There aren’t many women in STEM.”

My head shoots up, wide eyes turning in Rosalie’s direction. She doesn’t look up from her work, but I know she’s addressing me—Alice is studying fashion merchandising and design.

“Y-yeah,” I stammer. Alice’s older sister is just so intimidating. Well-spoken, obviously intelligent, tall, prettier than anyone I’ve ever met, and top of her law class. She’s not exactly warm either, like her mother or sister—even now, there’s a cold bite to her tone. But the edges of her lips quirk up, and I can tell she’s being nice.

“Don’t let the guys push you around. What you’re doing is important, and you’re probably smarter than them. What do you want to do with your degree?”

The answer, always on my heart and mind, is automatic. “I want to be a doctor. So, med school is next.”

She nods once. “Good.”

And apparently that’s the end of our conversation.

I try to hide my smile by rummaging around in my backpack for my water bottle. It’s nice to feel supported.

Bella comes gliding down the stairs and twists into the living room, folding herself easily onto the love seat. She greets me, and then tosses me the throw over the back of her couch. Alice nods as if forgetting something, then reaches into a basket hidden between our couch and Rosalie’s chair and produces three more blankets, throwing two to her sisters and keeping one for herself. She shoots me a grin as each of us, even the serious Rosalie, snuggles up.

Alice stands, turning off the lights and then wraps back in her blanket and scoots near me on the couch. “I hope this is good!” With a grin, she opens Netflix and plays the first episode.

{***}

Broadchurch does not disappoint. Before I know it, we’re halfway through the second episode, eyes glued to the screen. Bella, who was definitely reading a book under her blanket at the start, has put it to the side, leaning forward and watching the show intently.

The front door creaks, then clicks closed, and Alice smiles, pressing pause on the remote. “Dad’s home.”

Before long, the famed local doctor comes in to say hi to the girls and to greet me. He’s just as welcoming as his wife!

“Alice told me you are having trouble with some organic chemistry homework?”

I nod, hoping it’s not too much to ask for his help. “I got a good start on some of the problems last night, but I keep messing up. I’m not really sure where I’m going wrong—there’s no answer key so I can’t work backwards through the problems.”

He nods, casually resting his hands in the pocket of his slacks. “I remember o-chem homework quite well.” He grins conspiratorially. “It is the bane of many a med student’s existence. Why don’t you girls finish up your episode and then join Esme and me in the kitchen for lunch? I can take a look at your homework if you like.”

Relief washes over me. “That would be great, thank you so much.”

He smiles warmly. “Of course. Now, if you all will excuse me….” With a twinkle in his eye, he leaves us to rejoin his wife.

This family is so nice! I wonder why they get so much flack at school?

Alice resumes the episode, and soon my musings are washed away as I try to piece together the mystery of the murder before the detectives can.

{***}

Esme is a wonderful cook. Carlisle sings her praises but doesn’t fix a plate for himself, saying he ate plenty as she was cooking. We all sit down at the table, though I’m the only one who eats in earnest — Bella claims to be filled up on snacks, Rose says she’s on a diet, and Alice takes a small helping for herself, every now and then poking the chicken in mild disgust. I don’t see what the problem is, the food is fantastic!

Carlisle sits down next to me, and I slide my textbook and notebook in his direction. He smiles, looking almost nostalgic. “I remember these. The good news is, as a doctor, you won’t be doing much of this in day-to-day life, if at all. But it is important for some courses you will take in medical school, so it’s best to master the concepts now. See, on number nineteen, you start the problem correctly, but get lost once you have to balance the equation to continue. Instead of waiting until the middle to balance, I would do that first, that way, you have a solid base before moving on to solve the rest of the problem.”

I nod, peering over at the paper intently. I hadn’t tried that strategy before.

Carlisle takes out a pen, and begins scratching out an equation. Then, he grins, shaking his head, and crosses it out, starting again in much neater handwriting. “Forgive my penmanship. Though, if you decide to continue and become a practicing doctor, your handwriting will soon be indecipherable, too.”

From across the table, Rosalie snorts, and I can’t help but laugh along. It seems almost a rite of passage for a doctor to have horrendous handwriting.

In clearer script, Carlisle continues working out the problem, then slides the paper over for me to see. He explains what he did at each step, and I nod along, trying to commit as much of it to memory as possible. He works out another problem in the same way, then asks me to try on my own. I smile tentatively as I go, hesitant to accept that I actually know how to do the problem now.

But I do.

It takes concentration to work through the steps, but I can, which is a far cry from where I was last night. Carlisle waves off my thanks, saying I just needed to try a different approach, but I had it within me all along. I bring up another section I had issues with—structures of the elements—and Carlisle teaches me a better strategy for memorizing a few and then figuring out the rest. By the time Esme and Bella have put the food away, my homework is done—in a fourth of the time it would have taken me struggling through it on my own.

“Seriously, Dr. Cullen, thank you so much.”

He smiles pleasantly, handing me back my textbook. “Of course. If you need help again, just come on over. I know the girls love having the company, and my wife and I enjoyed the opportunity to meet you as well.”

Esme appears behind her husband, laying her hands affectionately on his shoulders. “Absolutely, Y/n. Please come over any time.”

I pack up my homework and thank them once again for lunch and for the help. Alice darts to my side, grinning. “Ready to finish the episode?”

I feel so much lighter now that my homework is done, and I don’t feel guilty at all for spending time with my new friends. In fact, I may even indulge in that ice cream when I get home.

“Absolutely.”

A/n Thanks for reading! If you have a moment, here’s the link to my masterlist :)

[atinydise]

Ateez reacting to the others members not liking their s/o

❦ Genre: Angst.

❦ Pairing: OT8.

❦ Word count: 15k.

❦ Requested: Yes, thank you! 🦋 

❦ Masterlist.

HONGJOONG

Hongjoong noticed that you were the only one initiating the conversation with his members. You were always asking them if they had a good day or if they needed anything. Even at the dorm. But the members weren’t really comprehensive or talkative with you. They were simply thanking you. Nothing more. To solve this problem, Hongjoong reunited the whole team in the kitchen. You were watching a movie in his room, so you won’t need to hear this conversation. “What is going on Hyung?” Asked San, sitting on the counter. “I wanted to have a serious talk with all of you.” “What did you do guys?” asked Seonghwa. “All of you. It means that you are included,” added Hongjoong, looking at the eldest boy. “Wow... if Seonghwa Hyung is included then, it might be really serious.” Claimed San.

Hongjoong sat on the empty chair, just next to Yunho and Yeosang. “Do you have a problem with Y/N?” He finally asked, glancing at all of them. A big silence settled in the room. Hongjoong understood that he was right about this whole situation. “Should I take this silence as a ‘yes’?” He ran his hands in his hair, completely frustrated. They all stayed quiet. Discreetly staring at each other. Waiting for someone to talk first. “Can someone tell me why?” “Listen... we don’t trust Y/N.” Finally replied Wooyoung. “Why? This is absurd.” He started. “She’s amazing.” “Come on, open your eyes.” Added Yeosang. “She’s clearly with you because we are getting some recognition.” “Are you serious?” Grunted Hongjoong. “She doesn’t care about our fame or whatever.” “Love makes you blind.” Quoted San. Hongjoong were about to take your defense again, but he spotted you at the door frame. “Y/N-” You saw the worried look on your boyfriend’s face. “It’s okay.” You started. “I’m going back home.” “Wait Y/N,” Hongjoong stood up. “No, stay here. It’s better if we stop here.” You declared, leaving and not letting your boyfriend to talk. Hongjoong stayed in the middle of the room, not processing what just happened. “Hyung-” Not wanting to hear anything else, he left the kitchen to go to his room. He didn't want to see anyone else at the moment. Except you.

SEONGHWA

“Do you want to come with us for a movie night?” Asked your boyfriend. “No, it’s pretty late, I should head home.” You declined politely. Seonghwa raised his brow. He was curious. You were always declining his offer when the boys were there. When he asked you why, you always said that you needed to rest or you were not really in the mood. It was weird for him since you were always offering to do something with him. “Do you want me to bring you home?” He offered. “No, you have something to do.” You stared at the boys shyly. “I can join them back. It’s pretty late I want you to be safe.” He added. “I’m a big girl. I’ll just take a taxi and head home don’t worry.” You tried to reassure him. Seonghwa really needed to ask what was going on and why you never wanted to hang out with the whole group. “I’ll just wait for the taxi with her.” He said to his friends. “Just give me 5 minutes.” “Seonghwa... don’t let them wait. I’m okay.” You tried to push him back. “Why are you always declining when I ask you to go around with the boys?” “I’m just tired.” You lied. “Don’t lie to me Y/N.” He said seriously. “It’s nothing Seonghwa. Just join them.” You insisted. “Y/N, tell me what’s going on.” He grabbed your arm. “They don’t like me!” You yelled a bit too loud. The boys probably heard you, but at this point, you couldn't care less. “This is nonsense Y/N, they lo-” “No they don’t.” You repeated. “I don’t know what I did wrong but it’s obvious!” Seonghwa turned around to look at the group. “Guys, I’m right huh? You like her?” They all stayed quiet. Some of them had this blank expression on their face. “See,” you whispered. “Let me go home now,” escaping from his grip. Seonghwa ignored what to do. Should he follow you? Or follow his team? When he was still questioning his fate, he saw you hopping on the first taxi you saw. “Y/N...” Why do they hate her? He tried to think about any arguments you had with one of them, but nothing came to his mind. But he wanted his best friends and girlfriend by his side. He can't choose one of them.

YUNHO

“I don’t like her! She’s too kind, too nice with us. I know what she is trying to do.” Said Mingi, laying on the couch. “Don’t you think we are a bit rude with her? We don’t know her.” Doubted Wooyoung, playing on his phone. “She’s clearly dating him because of his money.” Concluded Mingi. Wooyoung was about to confirm when Yunho entered the living-room, a big smile on his face. “Hey guys, what were you talking about?” He asked. “Nothing special.” Replied Wooyoung, not wanting to confront his friend. “Really? Because it seemed pretty steamed.” “Yes, really.” “Well okay.” He gave up. “By the way, I need your help guys.” They both sat up, waiting for their friend’s request. “It’s Y/N’s birthday soon and I want to buy her something but I-“ “Sorry I can’t help you with that.” Said Mingi straight before even hearing the end of the sentence. “Why? I was looking for your help since you are the one who always gives the best mother’s gift and stuff like that.” “I don’t know Y/N enough to think about something she would like.” He replied, turning the volume of the TV up. “Okay...” he sighed. “And you Wooyoung? Can you help me?” “I-” he started but Mingi gave him a soft kick on the waist, to prevent him from accepting to help Yunho. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.” He said. “I don’t know her either. It might be awkward.” “Guys... I really need your help. It’s her first birthday since we met, and I want it to be more than perfect.” He explained. “Listen Hyung,” started Mingi, focusing back on his friend. “We don’t think Y/N is interested in you.” “Oh gosh... he really said it like that.” Facepalmed the other member. “She clearly wants money, or I don’t know what, but I don’t trust her. And any of us don’t.” He declared. “You don’t like Y/N?” Repeated Yunho, hardly processing the situation. “But you were always so nice to her.” “We are being polite with her. But we don’t like her.” Finally added Wooyoung. “I can’t believe it...” “Please don’t be mad. We wish you all the best. But Y/N is clearly not the best.” “Shut up.” They both stared at their Hyung, surprised. It was definitely not his type to be so rude. “You don’t know Y/N or even our relationship. She clearly is one of the best things that ever happened to me after my debut.” He started, visibly mad. “Hyung-” “I don’t want to talk with you right now. I need fresh air.” He claimed before leaving the dorm. “I think he’s mad.” Stated Mingi. “No really?”

YEOSANG

You prepared everything for their first win celebration. Finally all these years of hard work paid off. They got their first win today and you were absolutely happy to organize a mini party for this. With the manager’s agreement, you went to the dorm before them, when they had the last interview for the day. You simply prepared snacks, such as chips, mini burgers and things like this. To express how proud you were, you even bought the same cake they had after their first performance. Everything was perfect. But sadly, you hadn’t the reaction you expected. Only Yeosang and barely Jongho were happy about this. You always knew that the boys didn’t really like you. You always did your best to be nice and polite but it’s as if nothing worked. Yeosang never noticed it. You couldn’t blame him, though. But thanks to the group’s reaction to your little surprise, he noticed that something was wrong. When the boys were gathered around the table, he glanced at you. You were quietly hearing their conversation but not saying anything the whole time. “Are you okay?” Whispered Yeosang. You nodded and smiled shyly. He bit his lips. He couldn’t stay in this situation. “Guys,” he said, trying to get their attention. You looked at him, waiting to know what he wanted to say. “Do you have a problem with Y/N?” “Yeosang-” you whispered, trying to stop him. “It’s okay Y/N. I just noticed that they were barely talking to you or trying to know you.” “They are busy.” You claimed. “Saying thank you for organizing a little party for us doesn't need more than 3 seconds.” He stated. “So?” None of them answered. Silence was like an answer for you anyway. “I understand that we can’t like everyone, but I would be glad if you could give Y/N a chance. She’s really important to me, and I would appreciate it if you could do some effort to know her.” “They know me a little bit.” You tried to reduce the awkwardness. “This is not enough for me.” He claimed, standing up. Yeosang left the room. You were there alone, around all of them. Like a gazelle in a lion cage. “I’m sorry about that.” You apologized, leaving too. You couldn’t force them to like you. But you couldn’t hide that you were truly sad about it.

SAN

“Oh, you are alone here?” Asked Wooyoung to his friend. “Yes, Y/N is still sleeping.” He let him know. “Do you want cereals?” He pointed at the pack in front him. “No I’m dieting.” “You are beautiful enough. You don’t need to go on a diet again.” He said, trying to dissuade his friend. “Are you happy with Y/N?” Suddenly asked Wooyoung. San stared at his friend surprised. He wasn’t expecting to hear this question from him. “Are you trying to change the subject? Because I won’t give up.” “No.” He sat in front of him, visibly worried. “I’m serious San.” San put down the cup he was holding. “Why do you think I’m not happy enough with Y/N?” Wooyoung hesitated. He didn’t want to be rude with his closest friend and member, but he couldn’t keep this for himself. “I don’t like her.” He whispered, not wanting you to hear it. “What? Why?” Asked San. The member ran his hands through his scalp. “Honestly no one likes her.” “I can’t believe this...” replied San. “Did she do or say something bad?” “No. It’s just that we don't like her attitude with you. She’s so... clingy and stuff like that.” “I’m barely sure we never showed any love affection in front of you guys. She hates that.” San crosses his arms on his chest. Wooyoung was visibly lying, and he didn’t like this at all. “Just tell me the truth, so we can solve this.” “I don’t think it’s solvable. We don’t like her. We don’t like her being here all the time and hearing her asking if everything is okay! She seems so fake San!” San scoffed, completely astonished by this confession. You were doing your best to be nice with them, and he was glad you made this effort. “She clearly just dates you because you are famous and-“ “I don’t.” You cut him straight, standing in the door frame. “Babe,” whispered San, worries that you heard the whole conversation. “I just love him. I don’t care if he’s an idol. His career isn’t defining my love for him.” You added. “This is not what he wanted to say Y/N.” “This is exactly what he wanted to say and to be honest he couldn’t be more clear than that.” San stood up, trying to talk to you correctly, face to face. But you stopped him with your hand. “I think it’s better if we break up.” “W-Wait Y/N,” stuttered San. “They will learn to know you. I promise.” You smiled sadly at him. “We can’t force them to do that. And honestly I’m done trying to be nice for nothing.” Without adding anything else, you went back to the room to grab your stuff and in a matter of time you were ready to exit the dorm. “Y-“ Before he could stop you again, the door slammed loudly. Wooyoung was so sorry for his friend, he messed up and was totally aware of it.

MINGI

You were like invisible to them. They were only greeting you. You never knew what you did and honestly you gave up. Everyone was saying all nice and kind they were but you couldn’t see this side of them. For sure, Mingi knew that this situation was hard for you. He didn’t invite you to the dorm anymore and he was doing his best for you to not see the boys. He always said that he was okay and that they will trust you soon but you knew he was pissed and sad about this situation. It was important for him to get along with the members. But it wasn’t the case at all. Today, you waited for Mingi to finish his daily dance practice. Not wanting to meet the boys, you waited in the hall as usual. “Y/N!” You stood up and turned around to greet your boyfriend. You were sure it was him because his deep voice is engraved in your mind. Just when you wanted to wave back at him, you saw all the others boys behind him. You immediately felt bad. “Hi,” you greeted them quietly. They just bowed politely to you and waited for Mingi to say something. “Do you want to come with us at the restaurant? We are starving right now.” He rubbed his belly cutely. “No I’m fine! I’ll head back home.” You refused politely. “Told you.” Grunted Seonghwa behind him. “Oh come on? What’s your problem with Y/N guys? And babe what’s your problem with them?” Asked Mingi angrily, putting down his bag. You stayed silent, waiting for one of them to talk since they were the only ones being rude. “Can someone talk?” “She’s not the one for you.” Finally declared Yunho. You felt absolutely hurt about this. Why were they thinking so bad about you? “And why?” Asked Mingi almost angrily. “We are 7 here to think the same way, you just can’t see it because love makes you blind.” Added Jongho. “Well-“ “I think I should leave.” You stated. “No we will solve-“ “I don’t want to.” You declared. Mingi stared at you, not understanding why you gave up suddenly. “Please don’t call me again.” You said coldly. “Hold up... are you-“ “Yes.” You said before he could finish the end of his sentence. He tried to catch your arm, preventing you from leaving but in vain. You were walking so fast, trying to not go back to him and tell him how sorry you are. But you couldn’t handle this situation anymore. It was not good for your health or either for your relationship.

WOOYOUNG

You were getting along so well with Wooyoung’s parents and his little brother. You spent a whole week with them in Jeju Island, and it went really well. But you couldn’t say the same thing with Ateez members. They knew you for almost 6 months now and impossible for you to be comfortable enough with them. Every time you were trying to talk with one of them. They would pretext to be busy or to have something to do. At first, you really thought that being an idol was overwhelming, but when San told you that he was busy but that you spotted him, laying on his bed, totally relaxed, you understand that they were not sincere with you. Because of this, you decided to take your distance and to enjoy only the moment with your boyfriend. He didn’t notice anything, for him you were totally fine with his friends. You secretly hoped that he would never notice, so he wouldn’t need to choose between you or his members. Until today. When you arrived at the dorm, Wooyoung was having a big argument with Yeosang and Hongjoong. You simply stayed at the corner of the room. None of them noticed your presence yet. “I told you I would be late! I even texted you for that!” Claimed Wooyoung. “You told me 5 minutes, not 2 hours.” Replied the leader. “You should have told us the truth. We wouldn’t be in this situation.” “I don’t know the traffic. They told me we were there in 5 minutes, so I texted you.” “And the next hours? You should have texted us!” “My phone died! And the driver wasn’t informed about one of your phone numbers.” “Sure...” muttered Hongjoong. “Anyway since you are dating Y/N you are not yourself anymore.” You raised a brow. You weren’t in the van with him. And you were not the traffic. “I don’t get why you are talking about her.” He replied coldly. “Since you are dating her, you are making mistake by mistake.” Stated Yeosang. “You can’t even see that we don’t like her. She’s grabbing all of your attention and-“ “Oh finally, I understand why you don’t like me.” You said, standing up against the wall. “Shit...” cursed your boyfriend after you heard the whole argument. “Next time I would prefer if you could say it to me directly.” You added a bit angrily. “You have nothing to do with-“ “Anyway, I need to go.” You said before leaving. Wooyoung sighed at this situation. He was so focused on you who just left that he didn’t see that his team members felt a little bit sad about this situation.

JONGHO

At first you didn't believe Jongho when he said that he was interested in you. He was a whole famous idol now, and you were just a normal and random human being. When he was telling you his day, you couldn’t relate to anything at all. You never went on stage or made a fan cry just because of your existence. It was pretty hard to talk with him at first but now you were so used to it. Everything seemed perfect now, but the only thing you couldn’t handle very well was his teammates. You knew that they weren’t really okay with the idea of you dating the maknae. They thought it had been too early to date and more because he was the “baby” of the group. But Jongho was so motivated to be with you that he wrote a whole letter saying that he won’t forget his career. He added that he needed you in his life because he felt like you would give him the last piece of happiness that he needs. Of course, they couldn’t say no to this. But instead of telling him the truth, they were acting totally cold and distant with you. You were doing your best to interact with them, but they were only replying by a single word to stop the conversation. One day you asked Yeosang about this whole situation, but it didn’t lead well. He pretexted that everyone was fine, but obviously you could see well that he was lying. So you decided to talk directly with Jongho. “Jongho,” you squeezed him. “Hum?” He replied, still sleepy. “Do you know why the boys don’t like me?” You whispered. “What are you talking about? They like you...” “They don’t.” You insisted. “I think you noticed it too. I mean we never talk or laugh together.” Jongho grunted and got up off the bed. “Where are you going?” You asked. “I’ll erase this stupid idea of your mind." You stared at your boyfriend leaving the room. You waited for him for almost 30 minutes before he came back a bit paler than earlier. “So? I couldn’t hear the conversation,” you pouted. He scratched his head embarrassedly, “seems like that you were right...” You rolled your eyes and fell back on the mattress. “We are doomed...”

[alfredosauce50]

Welcome to Wolfs Rock [Werewolf! America x reader]

Wordcount: 4, 913 Synopsis: It’s only the first day of your trip to Wolfs Rock, and Alfred is already getting on your nerves. You’re both eager to make things work, but the arrival of a handsome third-wheeler jeopardizes the efforts. Mathias Densen, the camp coordinator. Strangely enough, he ends up being a bigger help to your relationship than expected. When Alfred goes missing, he helps you find him. It’s a nightmare on your end, but it’s more of a mystical daydream to Alfred. The reader is referred to as she/her.

It all started on the camping trip in September.

Being not too cold and not too hot, it was meant to be the best month of the year to go and explore the wilderness. Alfred couldn't shut up about a resort inner state. He was always an outdoorsy person, and this place practically knocked his socks off.

Because rather than going old school and pitching up a tent, you were both staying in a picturesque wooden lodge.

He booked a spot overlooking a lake. Surrounding that was a thick forest of pine trees, making for the perfect hiking trail. You haven't even had a chance to admire the scenery yet, having been stuck being the bellboy, towing around his things.

Racing up the stairs to the porch, he spun around and gleamed at you. "Hurry up, already! I'm dying to see the inside of this lodge!" He exclaimed eagerly, turning back to slot the key into the door. "Man, this place already looks better than the pictures."

You hauled up both of your suitcases with a heavy huff. "You know you can go inside first, right? You've always been ahead of me." He shot you a funny look at what you said before taking your hand. The trip had barely started, and you were giving him attitude. Well, pre-attitude. But he wasn't having any of it.

"And you know I'd never go inside without you, babe. Now cheer up, okay? I'm sorry I dragged you around," Alfred sighed, catching a small smile stretch your lips. "That's my girl." The guy had a way with words, so you found yourself forgiving him faster than you wanted. That didn’t mean you couldn’t be mad during the moment, though.

The excitable goof kept running off and leaving you behind. With his things. His fishing gear.

"Ditch me again and I’m taking the car home, Al."

He laughed nervously. "Wouldn’t be the first time."

"That’s how you know I’m serious."

"So I'll chase you down the road. Works eventually," He added, catching a light glare from you. "And we won't be doing that today." He whispered. Taking your cheek in one hand, he leaned in and pressed a warm kiss to your mouth. It was slow and heated, as always. When you returned it, which was hard enough already, Alfred couldn’t help noticing how gentle you were being.

And he didn’t do well with gentle.

"It’s like you hate being around me sometimes," He mumbled over your lips. "What is your problem?" Your attitude transferred to him through the kiss, but he had another way of expressing it. He was leaning in for seconds, and you weren't too thrilled.

Before he could even graze his tongue on you, you clamped a hand over his mouth. "My problem is that you can't take me seriously," You murmured. He blinked, taken aback by your as-a-matter-of-factly tone. "So it’s just as much of a you problem." Releasing him at that, you made your way up the stairs with your things.

Alfred usually would've offered to take your stuff up for you, but it didn't look like you wanted the help.

"But whatever. I don't wanna fight with you."

He hung his head, feeling a hard frown work into his features. So much had changed since you first got together with him. You two weren't always going back and forth at each other. Disagreeing over anything and everything. The chemistry changed for the worse, but one thing remained constant.

He was still crazy about you. Whether you felt the same was a question that needed answering. Once Alfred got his things upstairs, he sat on the bed and watched you change. With his legs sprawled and hands behind his back, he kept a lazy, dazed stare on your form as you took your shirt off. This was the best part. Until he got caught, that is.

Spinning to him with your face flushed red, you tore him a new one. "What're you doing here? Get out!" His eyes widened as a prominent blush took over. Looks like he just made a huge mistake. So he stood up, moved away, and backed up slowly. "Are you dense? Go!" You gave him a strong shove back. He stopped abruptly by the stairs to keep his footing.

"Aye, ooh—" He threw his hands up defensively. "I’m sorry! I just thought you’d be okay with it."

"No, you peeping Tom! If you had your glasses on, you’d be at the bottom of the stairs by now." You finished, walking to the other side of the room.

Alfred covered his eyes. "So, do I go downstairs?"

He couldn’t understand why you were so mad, so maybe he was dense. It went without saying that he’d seen you in less, and none of those times ended with him getting pushed down the stairs.

"Just turn around. I need your help with sunscreen."

The two of you hiked around the mountains for the rest of the day. You only managed a few bad photos of chipmunks, but that didn’t matter when you took great ones with Alfred. He certainly talked enough to be one. By the time you returned to camp for dinner, you'd forgotten what you were so annoyed at him for. Maybe him getting hurt had something to do with it.

"Only kids trip over their own feet," You laughed, pushing him to the side to get him staggering all over again. "Some track star you are."

Alfred shot you a heated glare. "I'm not a kid. I just couldn't see the weird shrubs an' stuff!" He kicked at a stray pebble on the path, but missed it completely. "If you had eyesight as bad as me, you'd get it."

"Nobody could have eyesight as bad as you."

That comment alone got him chasing you around in circles. "Big deal, I got my glasses!" Being starved half to death and tired out of your mind, you let him catch you with ease. While he panted over your face, he pressed breathy kisses all over it. "My foot's getting worse and it's all your fault."

"Stop!" But he kept going, and you never pulled away. Instead, you returned the affection and wrapped your arms around his neck. While your lips met again and again, the only thing you could think about was this—it felt good to be on the same page as him again.

Getting him to sit down had never been so difficult. So you promised you'd get him a little bit of everything, and that did the trick. While you ran off in the cafeteria, you had your head turned to the guy, watching him beam at you with two thumbs up. What an idiot, you thought, but you weren't so much better yourself when you ran right into someone.

The collision was hard, almost as if you ran into a pole. When you glanced up at them, it became clear why—he was huge. "I'm so sorry! I wasn't looking where I was going," You apologized. Your uneasiness, however, melted away when you heard him laugh. When he fell quiet, his energy never left his toothy grin. Something about him reminded you of Alfred.

Blonde, blue eyes, and oozing with charisma. But rather than having his bangs swept to one side, his hair stuck up in all sorts of directions.

He hadn't even opened his mouth yet, and you could tell his personality was just as big as he was. "Don't worry about it! Didn't feel a thing," He piped, turning to the side to hand you a tray. "Here you go. Oh, and don't get the coleslaw. It tastes like soggy newspaper shavings."

"Thank y—" Before you could manage another word, the stranger pulled out a plate from nowhere and plopped a few potatoes on it. "—ou." He set the plate on your tray and gleamed at you.

"Try this. It’s the best thing in the cafeteria. I'd know cuz' I made it myself."

"Wow, um—" Your gaze traveled down to his dress shirt, and over his breast pocket was a name tag. That explained a lot. "—thanks, Mathias," He gave his name tag a playful tap as if to say, that's me. You gave a firm smile as you leaned down to take another tray. "You work here as one of the chefs?"

The man followed you down the aisle. "Eh, a little bit of this, a little bit of that. I'm the camp coordinator,"

"And they let you in the kitchen?" Mathias shrugged. "Huh. Sounds like fun." You mused, filling up two cups with ice-cold water.

"That's why I work here," He hummed, extending a hand to point at your trays. If the second one wasn't for you, then—"Is this your way of asking me out?"

Alfred suddenly felt a sharp pain shoot through his leg. "Agh. Stupid foot," Kicking it up onto a chair, he pulled up his pant leg and inspected it. His foot was cramping, and the bandages around his leg were loosening by the second. "Dammit. Some camping trip this is." While he tightened up the rings of white, he caught sight of two figures in his peripherals. One of them he recognized to be you, but the other was a complete stranger. "...?"

You were walking in his direction, and so was he.

"Making friends already, are we?" Alfred mused. You took a seat opposite him while the stranger slid a plate his way. He eyed his food for a moment before catching sight of the name tag. "Oh. Never mind," He would’ve left it at that if it weren’t for your newest pal pulling out a chair. "... Uh... Who’s this?" He tried to be friendly, but his face wasn’t having it.

"Just some dude I bumped into," You explained eagerly. Mathias beamed at Alfred, whose brows were raised in an unimpressed look. "Turns out he organizes everything here. And I was kinda hoping he’d help you with your bandages."

"Right," Alfred tensed up. Great, now he felt bad. The Dane leaned forward and set a first aid kit on the table, making the cutlery rattle. "Wait, wait, wait. You don’t have to do that! I’m totally good. See?" He pulled his pant leg up to reveal a sloppy job of patching himself up. "It’s drying up."

Mathias craned his head to the side. "I dunno about that, friend. You don’t wanna get an infection," He rolled his sleeves up and started rummaging through the trauma kit. And damn, was he ripped. "Alcohol is best for stuff like this."

Alfred wrinkled his nose. "Alcohol? But—agh, fuck!"

"Dude," You whispered-shouted, darting your eyes to the table beside. A couple of kids were staring and cackling at the man who just dropped an F-bomb.

"Fudge! Hey, can you chill with the rubbing?"

The act of kindness turned into something else. It used to be just you and him, but Mr. Camp Coordinator here decided he didn’t have a job to work anymore. Alfred even brought that up disguised as a harmless joke, but Mathias was too unassuming. "But I am doing my job! I’m making sure everybody’s having a good time. Trust me, you’ll have a better day with your leg all fixed up," He grinned, giving his back a few hard slaps to make his torso bounce.

"Yeah, okay, haha. Enough about the leg. I can’t even feel anything anymore," Alfred stared at him through his eyebrows. His reaction was more than enough to get you to slow your movements. What was his deal? Whatever it was, you figured that Mathias had overstayed his welcome. So you did what anybody would’ve done. You lied.

"So, Mat..." Mathias lit up while Alfred’s frown deepened. Mat? Really? "... Alfred and I were just gonna wrap up for the night. We were planning to get up early and go... Fishing,"

"Fishing? Awesome! You know, I’ll be around for the first info sesh. I’ll see you there!" The other chimed. While Alfred shot you an angry look, you shrugged in defeat. Just when he thought things couldn’t get any worse, Mathias got out of his chair and appeared behind you. There, he draped an arm over your shoulder. "So, what’s about that date? Yay or nay?"

Immediately after you gave him a no, Alfred pulled you out of the place. Needless to say, neither of you was joining Mathias for fishing in the morning.

"You said I was dense, but that’s what I call dense!" He hissed, pointing at the cafeteria accusingly. He gave his head a frustrated shake as he continued down the path. You followed after, feeling your chest tighten as he walked off without you. After a few suffocating seconds of silence, he marched back and pulled you into a tight hug. Thank God.

"I’m sorry. This is kinda my fault," He screwed his eyes shut while you squeezed him back. You were way past being upset at anybody, being drained in all manners someone could be drained. All you wanted was to curl up under the covers with him and forget what happened tonight. But fate had something else in store for you both.

"I need to cool off. I really want tonight to work," Alfred pulled away, showing you a small, albeit sweet smile that got you weak at the knees. Handing you the keys at that, he gave one final wave before disappearing into the dark in a brisk jog. "I'm gonna take a walk. A quick one. I'll be back before you know it! So, put on a movie or something!"

"Okay! Don't take too long!" You called back. "And watch the leg!" When you stood up straight again, you found yourself smiling in excitement. Aside from what went down earlier in the day, you were hopeful everything would pan out the way you wanted. He would’ve agreed if he heard you say it.

The walk back to your lodge was short. While you made your way back, you'd glance up at the night sky to watch nature's fireworks. The full moon was huge. There was something ethereal about its ghostly white glow, so it was too bad Alfred wasn't here to see it with you. Without warning, your train of thought was interrupted by a wolf’s howl.

"... Oh God." Letting him run off by himself didn't seem so good of an idea anymore. But you trusted him to be smart. So long as he stayed on the main street lit up by street lamps, the chances of him getting eaten were pretty low.

"Oh, cool! A secret trail!" Alfred mused. Diverging off the path he was on, he wandered into a darker area of the camp. It looked like a field they used to pitch up tents in. The edges were lined with tall pines, so he figured not to get any closer to them. "I guess this is where everything stops,"

He pulled out his phone to turn on the flashlight. The second he turned on the beam, he was met with a wolf sitting several yards away on the grass. Turning its head to the source of the light, it bared its fangs and let out a low growl. "Oh, shit—" He breathed, taking a few steps back. He needed to get the hell out of here before he had his face ripped off.

The animal began to rise, never tearing its reflective yellow eyes off the man before him. That was when Alfred entered panic mode.

While sweat ran down his temple like bullets, he stumbled out a few words. "Uh... Nice doggy?" The creature managed to stand, but not on all fours. Instead, it stood on two legs like a humanoid.

"Wait. What?"

It lunged forward and pounced on him, head-first.

"Pick up, pick up, pick up..." After several failed attempts at calling Alfred, you were really starting to freak out about the idea of finding his dead body somewhere in the woods. When he said he’d make it quick, you never thought it meant over an hour! That warranted an explanation over the phone, but he couldn’t do you the least of giving you that. So what did you do? You called for help.

"Yello? This is the camp coordinator of Wolfs Rock Camp. What may I assist you with that you need assisting with tonigh—"

"Mathias! Hey! Is this Mathias?" You spoke frantically, hearing a thoughtful hum from the other side.

"Yep, this is me. What can I help you with? Could you tell me your cabin number?"

"Alfred’s missing."

Two strong torch beams scanned around a spot on the wide asphalt road. Even after an hour of relentless searching, neither of you found any sign of him. You even returned to your lodge a few times, hoping to see him outside the door, waiting for you. But he never showed. Exhausted and worried sick, you collapsed onto a bench and hung your head.

Your companion took a seat next to you. "Here," Mathias held out a water bottle under your line of vision. "Clears up the mind. He’s gonna be okay, don’t worry."

Taking it with little hesitation, you downed a couple of generous gulps. "Thanks," You breathed, casting a wary gaze his way. "I don’t know, Mat. We disagree on a lot of things, but I think we’d both know that a few hours is way too long for a walk."

He shook his head with a sigh, then stared out into the distance. The street lamps were going out, one by one, indicating that it was well past ten. Once the last one went out, the whole campsite was plunged into darkness. To say it was eerie was an understatement. "This campsite has been around for longer than I have, and we’ve never had any missing person cases. Ever." Your frown deepened.

He rolled his head to you and showed an apologetic look. "I have to say that you guys are pretty unlucky."

"Very." You scoffed, returning the gesture with a tired smile of your own. "It doesn’t make sense how bad things can get. We’re either at each other’s throats, or something else messes things up for us. It’s almost as if... We’re not meant to be." Your expression saddened, capturing the strong ache in your chest.

Admitting a piece of reality never hurt more.

Mathias reflected that by making another compassionate face. "Hey, chin up. You guys are still together in the end, so I think that’s pretty amazing." He patted your shoulder encouragingly. "Count the lovers’ quarrels an’ stuff as a test. You guys must be crazy for each other to still be good, ya know?"

You lit up just a touch. "You really think so?"

"I know so," He stood up and offered a hand for you to take, and you did. "So, what do you say we save this boyfriend of yours? I know a few spots I haven’t checked yet. I have a good feeling he’d be there."

While he led you around, he’d turn around occasionally to check up on you. Are you okay? He’d ask. Wanna stop for a second? Running around with the guy was like riding the wind. Not only was he fast, but he was also strong enough to pull you around until you became weightless. It was one thing you missed about Alfred, and something you really liked about Mathias. "Alright. Let’s check around this area. If he’s not here, then we’ll have to get the police involved."

You nodded eagerly and ran off. "Thanks again for doing this. I couldn’t have asked for a better person for help." This field looked like an odd place to get lost in, but you had to leave no stone unturned.

He lifted a bush. "No worries! Just doing my job."

"And sorry about what happened at dinner. I didn’t mean to cause any misunderstandings." You continued, bending down to look under a deck.

"Nah, I’m way past that. People tell me I can’t read the room." Mathias called back, watching you walk off to another corner of the field. He turned around to keep looking. "But if things don’t work out with Alfred, I’m free on the weekend." You tripped over something on the ground, but it felt more like a someone than a something. He spun back around. "You know, if he turns out dead or someth—"

"Ahh!"

Mathias carried Alfred all the way back to your lodge. While the Dane cleaned and disinfected his wounds for the second time that night, you stuck around and asked how he was feeling. He’d given you the scare of a lifetime, laying on the ground like that. Not that disappearing for a few hours didn’t do it already. "Are you sure you’re okay? I was convinced I tripped over a dead body—" He gave you a floaty smile. "—I mean, you weren’t moving at all! Maybe we should call an ambulance or something."

"It’s fine, (F/N), I promise. I was just... Really tired," He explained, reaching out to nudge your face with his fingers. Alfred made a face as he laid on the couch. "That fight took a lot out of me, so I took a nap on the grass. But now that I’ve woken up, I feel... Better." His brows came together. "A lot better."

"Wait, you fought the wolf?"

"Well, I guess! He was even standing on two feet, so he had to use his arms to get me... It was like boxing a kangaroo, except not a kangaroo."

"Mathias, is it possible to get a concussion without hitting your head?" You turned to the said man, and he responded by inspecting Alfred’s head.

"Well, you technically could if someone shook you really hard," Mathias murmured, leaning over to examine his face this time. "But I doubt that happened. Maybe he had a nightmare,"

You breathed out a soft sigh. "That won’t happen again, at least. I’ll be sleeping with this idiot," Alfred closed his eyes and practically melted into the pillow. His smile was the biggest you’ve ever seen—you couldn’t bite back a small laugh when you caught it. "Okay, thunder thighs. If you’re so comfortable on the couch, I’ll let you sleep down here for the night."

He shot up and grabbed your hand, catching you completely off guard by his speed. "—?"

"No, I’m sleeping with you."

Your cheeks lit up as you averted his steely gaze. Mathias was still here. As if Mathias read your mind, his movements faltered while he worked with the bandages. He had a deep claw mark down his leg, but it was completely covered once he was finished. So as important as he was, he felt like he wasn’t supposed to be here. "..."

"I was just kidding, you dummy. Of course you are," Standing up from the couch at that, you gave him another look of concern. "I was really worried, you know. I’m never letting you run off by yourself ever again," Making your way around to his head, you leaned down and pecked his forehead. If you lingered your lips on him for any longer, you would’ve felt him heat up in a blush. This whole exchange wasn’t exactly private, after all.

"But if Mat says you’re gonna be okay, I’ll have to believe him." You walked off to the kitchen. "I’ll get you guys some water."

"Thanks! I’m parched!" Mathias glanced down at his patient, then shot him a wink. "Your girlfriend’s crazy about you, dude."

Alfred turned redder than a tomato. "What the hell, man? Just because she turned you down—"

"I’m serious! She couldn’t stop talking about you."

"Yeah, cuz’ I disappeared!"

"Trust me, friend. She’s more in love with you than you think." Mathias grinned. "You’ll see."

Alfred slept like a log that night. When he woke up, the first thing he did was go to the bathroom. After moving you carefully off his chest, he leaned over and put on his glasses. Was it just the morning rust, or was this thing super blurry? Seeing through the lenses made his vision worse than without them. "Huh." Setting them down on the bedside table, he decided he didn’t need them for now.

What he saw in the bathroom mirror, however, had him wondering if he needed his glasses after all.

His reflection showed him with a long, thick beard along with a head of messy, overgrown hair. A few seconds later, he let out the loudest scream.

Alfred’s eyes flew open, but he never stopped screaming. "Ahh!" When he quietened down, he quickly came to realize he was in the same spot as he was last night. The strange field where he met the strange wolfman. Was that all a dream? But that was beside the point. Something was on his legs. He assumed the worst as he scrambled up his feet, but he overreacted. Instead of an animal that was with him, it was a person. And it wasn’t just any person.

"(F/N)?!"

You rolled onto your back so you could better see him. "Alfred?!" You spluttered. The body you tripped over ended up being your boyfriend!

"Oh my God, Alfred!"

Jumping up so you could throw yourself on him, you wrapped your arms around his neck for a bone-crushing hug. "I was so worried! What the hell were you doing here? Why were you sleeping in a place like this? Was that why you never answered my calls?" While you examined his face frantically, he blinked furiously in shock. Only now did it hit him that everything in the last ten hours was a dream.

Getting carried back by Mathias, getting treated by Mathias, falling asleep, then waking up to a face full of hair. As he lingered on the fleeting memory, he grew distracted enough to lost his footing. Falling onto his ass with a grunt, he never managed to tell you off for it when you hugged him on his lap.

And there on his lap you remained.

He returned the embrace, making sure to pin your head down with his chin while he was at it. "Did you miss me?" He murmured, pressing a stretched out kiss to your cheek. It was a question easily answered by your tight hold on him.

How could he have ever doubted you?

"Your girlfriend’s crazy about you, dude!"

Whatever all that was about, he was slowly forgetting it already. The weird dream was vivid enough to give him the heebie-jeebies, but for some reason, he was glad he had it. But never mind that. What mattered was now, and having you forever. "I’m sorry I ran off."

You squeezed him desperately. It had only been a few hours, but it felt like forever since you’d seen him. "Nothing’s ever normal about you. You can’t even take a walk without getting a search party for you!"

Mathias jogged up to you both. "Looks like the gang’s all here! Good to have you back, dude."

Alfred let out a few breathy chuckles. Nothing was ever normal about you and him, was it? "Hey, let’s be nice. If you mean that as a compliment, I’ll take it," He closed his eyes and sighed contentedly. You were back to kissing him, but the affection translated to something tenfold of what he gave you. It didn’t look like you gave a damn about an audience, so he had to stop you before you got too carried away. "Hey, woah—save some for the bedroom—Ow, ow, ow!"

After giving him a hard pinch on the cheek, you stood up to thank Mathias again. Pulling him in for a hug, he spun you around a few circles before setting you down on your feet. "Maybe next time, eskler." He hummed, giving your head a gentle pat. "If something like this happens again and he doesn’t make it, the date’s still on the table!"

Alfred stood up again. "Could you leave my girlfriend alone?!" He picked up a pebble and threw it right into his head. "I’m not going anywhere anytime soon!"

"Ouch!"

You broke out into a laughing fit when you watched Mathias stumble forward a few steps. When you quietened down, it was just you and Alfred standing in the field. "You really aren’t," You murmured, glancing up at the man with a tender gaze. "But I’m not either." He was already staring, and those love-laden eyes were something you could barely stomach. Because whenever he looked at you like this, you couldn’t resist him. "Let’s go back to the lodge."

Alfred took your hand in his. "You read my mind," He grinned. While the two of you walked off, he noticed that his leg wasn’t hurting anymore. Getting clawed there never happened, but that hiking incident did. It was strange how fast he’d recovered.

"Well, I’ll be damned," He whispered under his breath. The cherry on top was the feeling of you grasping at his arm, a sure-fire sign that you were more than content with him. And the thought got him smiling from ear to ear.

"Maybe we aren’t as unlucky as we thought."

Once the field was empty again, something appeared by one of the pines. A wolf with a beautiful coat of grey fur. It was nothing like the mangy creature Alfred encountered, but there was one feature they shared. When it opened its eyes, a pair of brilliant golden irises were revealed.

I hope you guys enjoyed this. Here's a great photo I found of Alfred: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/00/a9/ec/00a9ec9e3d5952038c89b1c9fda38158.jpgwith

[tsumukono]

//ya can read my story here to, all to happy for any support💖

Chapter 2: stuborn weed that needs to go

After the puporsel kita did they just had few times talks, he was honest to atsumu that his girl smelled him and hated his smell, that put him in light depression. He wasen’t doing anything then have nice chat’s with kita over daily life but now they are very rare till they stopped, properly listen to his future mate.

Sad losing a friend over this he needed bit time, still he opend his shop daily like allways, hoping the best for his former captian friend.

Osamu told him the girl pretty annnoying meeting her once with suna on double date, she thinks mostly about herself talking about herself and complain that kita need take more time in her stop his work. Annoyed only hearing that, he wonder how kita even ended up with that but they could not change it only hoping the best for they former captian. A other subject that came up was, if atsumu would take care of the flowers for his suna’s wedding, of course he sayed yes to his twin.

It’s at least something he could do for him, with all help osamu gave him and support even suna, even he is bit toxic at time but he never mean harm.

Tipping in his laptop a big order organize the flowers for the future wedding, he did not hear the customer coming in and the strong smell entering his shop, he wrinkeld his nose at the arfule smell that just hit him. Looking up and giving glare he looked at the alpha before him „what can i do for you sir?“ he tryed smile but it turend to sour one hearing the next word’s „ya number and adress, to take ya as mine“ saving and closing his laptop he took deep breath „none of both get out of my shop please sir“ the smell got stronger thiccer, try make atsumu go in Submission but it just made the blond only go to the opposide direction and he made himself bigger „turn arround leave with ya pesting smell and that ya try force me on my knees“ truth be told his knee’s were shaking but he hid it, confronted often enough with strong alpha scent’s. The alpha glared at him „i come back anyway why not accept my offer“  atsumu titteld his head glaring „i am not intressed, as your smell stinks so much my flowers start to wither, so leave before the birds start fall from the sky from such foul smell“ showing his fangs glaring at atsumu he left for now, offended by his words.

Atsumu knew he would come back so wrote osamu for help and to come the next few days into the shop, controlling as helping, if ist needed.

Thinking it was over since the bulky Alpha haven’t showed up again, cracking his neck and try not look tired when oikawa tooru talk to him, they good friends and he really likes haning out with Alpha but listing to him rambling can get tiring in one point „yo tooru, i think iwa needs ya know ar home with ya kiddo’s“ the called setter gave a annoyed pout „ahhh ya right he properly digging my grave since run off like that, gimme few red roses, so calm him bit more down“ atsumu smiled prepare small bouquet for his friend, when he wrinkeld his nose once more „that nasty smell back ..“ tooru looked at the alpha that stepped in and get on atsumu’s side, for once serious look on his face unpleasent, like someone handed him deflated volleyball to play with.

He put his arm arround the golden fox waist, looking straigh at the alpha who entered the small shop „wow he really has a foul smell, poor flowers that a here, i hope they don’t wither couse of that…“ the alpha gave  a annoyed grunt, shoving his hands in his pocket thiccen the air with his scent „at least i don’t look like a clown or have such fenimin featur stinking like parfume shop“ cracking his fingers, tooru smirked „well better then rotten meat that make every dead one jealous since you must be death for years plus you make the poor omega wrinkel his nose, THAT alone should tell you, that ya unpleasend acompany. So do us all favor carry your death body out, not even fly’s would fly arround ya and fall death to the ground…“ atsumu jumps up when two hands slam down onto the counter and the smell was more closer, tooru tighen his grip arround his waist get him closer more protective over his friend, giving blank cold stare at the other alpha „what? Did i tickle a nerve, ya can see i am holding my friend here protecting him from you…not only that“ he point behind them.

A very angry twin brother with his mate suna scramble they shirt up grabbing the alpha and drag him outside, out of sigh from his twin. Who was trembling sweating from axenty for the first time from so long, he only jumpend feeling the cool hands circeling his back „close for today tsumtsum, so you take a break and your inner omega can calm down“ ruffeling atsumu's hair hearing quite thank you, he even turend the sign to closed.

Thankfule for tooru, that he protected him from that nasty guy and osamu who properly did who knows something with suna, those two can be scary, team up against someone, suna who allways has blackmail for anyone, even if you think he don’t know the person. Samu by his pure strengh as Alpha, once ya trigger his inner Alpha protecting what is family or what he owns /even food/ ya dig either your grave or find yourself in the next hospital.

Sinking to the ground and holding his golden locks, tail between his legs he trembeld, this was close, to close.

He feeled his eyes water, no he won’t cry couse of a stupid Alpha tryed claim him and that he needed to be protected, he bit his lips. He jumped feeling a hand on his head, it was suna with calm look. For once he cracked and start crying, getting down suna took the shaking omega in his arms, as beta was easy to calm him down and be not as effected with the scents like omega and alpha. Why he stepped first in the shop and it smelled all over of stressed scared omega. Picking atsumu from the ground he hold him close „guess ya annoying thing come home today with us, ya can’t be alone, plus ya brother want make sure ya safe“ he walked out carring the scared omega and locked the shop.

Outside osamu watched his mate suna, carring his scared brother, he thanked tooru per phone but his look was, what scared atsumu. Feral, long fangs poking out and on his fingertips he could see bit of blood and smelled like angry alpha. Osamu got furious, that his twin, pack member got so cornered by arrogant alpha.

It wasen’t the first time he went feral, for suna he did once protecting what was his and back in school when the bullying went to far, yes he bullyied teased his brother but never to far. Cracking his neck they went together home, he knew he would be in edge few days but knowing his twin and mate were safe was his first property then his own well being.

At samu’s house everyone took turn shower get nasty scent off, both suna and samu borrowed tsumu few clothes,so he smelled the pack to feel safe.

Ending the day they watching movie and talk about suna’s volleyball team gosspid about them calmend everyone down. Atsumu just hope this pice of weed won't show up again. Again he was thankfule for his family and pack protecting him as friends who protec him. But he has come up with solution that something like that wont repeat. Mabey co-worker as protection, he has to think about it. But for now they talk now about this two lovbirds wedding, it would be this weekend so he can relax and enjoy friends family coming over and have a good timd for once.

The weed had be brutally plugged out and burned.