#uhm trying to figure out how to fit in gym time today

[pumpkinespresso]

Omg… ;; I haven’t had a cheat day in weeks and this morning after we woke up, my bf said he’s going to take me to ihop later!!!!

You guys have no idea how much I love pancakes!!! 🥞

[kiribaku-queen]

Sexercise [18+]

TW: rough sex, multiple partners, overstimulation, oral sex, penetration, spanking, choking, hair pulling, smacking (face), fingering, bruising

Word count: 6.8K

Summary: When you go to a new gym for special workouts but you aren't getting your needs met. Your trainer is here to help, offering special sessions to help get both of your sexual frustrations out.

A/N: Okay, shit writing BUT just think about the concept. I took the liberty of writing this piece because I couldn't get it out of my head!! This collab was really fun to do! Although stressful, I would love to do it again! Check out all the other writer's work for this collab! They are all so talented and just W O W

Inspired by the Korean Webtoon: Sexercise! It's actually really good and I was so obsessed with it. Here's my version but with Bakugou <3

Also, sorry if I tag the trigger warnings wrong >< I'm so new to this!

You stepped out of the freshly, hot shower, carefully drying every inch of your body before putting on the exercise clothes the gym had provided you.

You know. You didn’t bring your own clothes and the gym gave you some to wear? Well, this isn’t your typical gym.

It all started when you saw their promotion flyer hidden behind many others on the bulletin board on your way home. You’ve been meaning to get back to the gym and this one looked promising. A new form of exercise that’ll make you come back for more? Curiosity got the best of you and you headed to the gym to check it out.

Upon arriving, it looked like a regular gym. They had all the necessary equipment that you see in any gym. What’s so special about this gym? And what ‘new form’ of exercise were they talking about, you asked yourself.

“Hi, are you new here?” you hear a voice from behind you. You spun around to see a beautiful, fit woman greet you.

“Ah, yes I’m actually looking to sign up for that new form of exercise written on this flyer,” you explained, showing the lady the flyer you picked up. She grabbed it from you, shocked and disbelief written all over her face.

“Who the fuck did this?” she grumbled under her breath. But she did it right in front of you so you heard everything she said. She didn’t sound too happy, by the way her eyebrows crunched in rage. Her reaction made you back away, feeling uncomfortable. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to come to this gym after all. The lady noticed how you were shifting in your stance and cleared her throat, fixing her posture to look professional.

“Sorry if I scared you,” she laughed embarrassedly. “We just don’t promote this gym very much so it was a surprise to see this flyer. I’m guessing you’re not familiar with the workouts we do here?”

“Uhm, not really,” you say shyly. She looks you up and down and thinks for a moment. Then, she goes behind her desk and pulls out this thick contract.

“Well, before we get started, I’m going to need you to sign this nondisclosure agreement and fill out your personal information here. After all this is completed, I can take you around for a tour!” she exclaimed. You were a bit reluctant to even sign this and was about to walk out the door. What kind of gym is this that you need to sign an NDA? But it couldn’t hurt right?

When you signed the last line of that NDA form, she took you on your tour right away. And that’s when you found out the through about this gym.

“Ah, fuck~!”

“HNGH, hah!”

“Good, I wanna see 10 more reps.”

This gym helps their members enjoy working out through the pleasure of sex.

So here you were, stretching your muscles out in your assigned room for your first session. You felt that familiar feeling at the bottom of your stomach due to nervousness and excitement. You’ve always loved having sex. Having multiple partners? Eh, not so much. But you’ve been single for way too long and it’s been a while since you’ve had a good sex experience. Plus, you’ve been meaning to start exercising again so this was such a perfect gym for you. You’re just hoping that it’ll meet your expectations.

You heard two voices coming in your direction. A muscular man with dark green hair and similar clothes to what you were wearing and an angry, blondie with a trainer outfit on were entering the room, chatting away like they knew each other.

“(y/n)?” the blonde one spoke up.

“Ah, yes. That’s me,” you wiped your sweaty palms on your pants and reached out your hand to shake the trainer’s hand.

“Bakugou. I’ll be your trainer today,” he introduced himself. His palm in yours felt so heavy andstrong. He gripped your hand firmly, but only for a second and let go, his presence leaving you empty. Who knew that someone could have that kind of effect on you. You wanted so badly to take his large hands and have them roam all around your bod- You shook your head out of these naughty thoughts. What were you thinking? Sure, you were having sex but this was your workout, not some hookup. Plus, he’s your trainer. He’s not the one you were going to have sex with. It was that handsome hunk beside him.

“Introduce yourself,” Bakugou nudged the man. The green-haired man gave you a shy smile and a small wave.

“Midoriya Izuku. Most people call me Deku, but you can call me by what makes you most comfortable,” Deku says. You smile. His personality and demeanor reminded you of a puppy. But not a small puppy. He was more like a Great Dane: sweet but large in size. Looking at both of them now, they were both very muscular, almost towering over your small figure. You looked over at your trainer who was writing something down on his clipboard. Now he was very attractive. He’s got the face, the voice, the body. God, he was your type. Your partner was also good looking. No matter how much you wanted to have this session with someone else, your partner will do for now. With a build like that, you were sure you were going to enjoy this sex session.

“Alright, (y/n). Since this is your first time here, I’ll run over the basics. Before every session, each partner will give the other a massage to loosen up. If you could lay on the mat, please,” he instructs, pointing over to the mat that was laying on the floor.

You nodded in understand, laying on your stomach and resting your chin on your arms. Deku comes up behind you, sitting on top of the back of your legs. You jump in surprise, but Deku hushes you and gently pushes you back down.

“I’ll make you feel good, don’t worry,” he leans down to whisper in your ear.

Deku starts his massage by pressing both of his thumbs in the middle of your back, going up your spine. You almost let out a moan of pleasure from how good you felt. His large hands felt amazing on your back. Damn, forget about the sex. You’ll gladly be content with this. His hands skillfully rubbed your entire back, switching between a firm and soft pressure. You definitely felt relaxed and comfortable now. So this is why they start off every session with a massage. You were about to fully succumb to his touch, that is, until your trainer interrupted you.

“Okay, you can switch now. Sir, please lay on your stomach,” he instructed. Ah, right. You were still being talked through everything by Mr. Grumpy Pants here. Deku was used to this, so he laid down and you were the one to get on top now.

You started your massage off slow. Your touch was soft and gently, trying to touch every part of his body and get him to relax as much as possible. You tried copying a few of his moves, improvising here and there. So far, so good. You could feel Deku’s muscles loosen under you and he sighed in satisfaction.

“Alright, sir. Now I’m gonna have you lay on your back. Ma’am, go ahead and massage his chest,” Bakugou instructed. Swiftly and skillfully, Deku maneuvered his body around so that you were straddling his waist from the front.

“Oh!” you made a sound of surprise. You could have gotten up and let him take his time turning around, but he had his own plans. You could tell he’s done this many times before.

You were shy about giving him the massage at first. It’s not the first time you’ve touched a man’s chest, but it was your first time giving a massage with the man looking at you with such intense eyes. Deku’s hands were crossed behind his head, enjoying the show he was given. His eyes never left yours for a second, making sure he mapped every inch, every curve of your body and imprinted in his brain. You didn’t know where to look. While he was staring at with you eyes of lust, you were looking anywhere else but him; his chest, the floor, your hands. How could you concentrate when he’s looking at you like that?

You couldn’t help but shift in your position to get more comfortable, but in doing so, you sat right on his crotch. A bolt of electricity shot through your body when you felt his hard on growing larger with each passing second. It took you everything in your power not to moan right then and there. You didn’t want to look desperate so soon in the session. But Deku was making it so hard. Bakugou looked up from his clipboard to see a very obvious tent in the male’s pants.

“Hard already? It’s only the beginning of the massage,” Bakugou pointed out. Deku smirks and puts one hand on your thigh, caressing firmly.

“What can I say? She’s a beautiful girl,” Deku compliments. Bakugou doesn’t respond to his comment and instead, instructs him to do something else.

“Sir, please massage her breasts in this position,” Bakugou says. Without hesitation, Deku gropes your breasts with his massive hands. Every time he squeezed a bit too tightly, every time he readjusts his pose, it was all driving you mad. The heat between your thighs was telling you that you wanted, needed, to be touched. You bit your lips to stop another moan from coming out. Deku takes notice of your small action and decides, with a devilish smirk, to take matters into his own hands. He grabs a hold of your waist and juts his hips upwards so that his boner rubbed against your sopping, wet cunt. With so much force he put into that thrust, your body got pushed forward, allowing Deku to grab your breasts even more tightly. Finally, that long awaited moan escapes your lips.

“There we go,” Deku whispers, continuing his movements. You closed your eyes, enjoying the friction he was supplying you with. But before anything could get too heated, Bakugou, once again, interrupts.

“You probably already know what to do but I’ll explain just in case,” Bakugou starts, putting down his clipboard and goes to the draw that was sitting on the side. He brings out a bottle of oil and kneels behind you. “May I?” he asks while pointing to your top.

“Ah, yes,” you softly say. With his rough, calloused hands, he rakes his fingers up your side before removing your top. Your breasts spill out with a flop, making Deku’s eyes widen in thirst. Bakugou disregards his reaction, continues to put oil on his hands and starts to massage your breasts.

“Be careful when massaging women’s breasts. You don’t want to be too rough that it hurts or too soft that she can’t feel anything. The closer you get to the nipple, the more sensitive she is so be careful when touching them,” Bakugou explains. Like a pro, he starts to play around and twists your sensitive nipples. But just like in his explanation, he used different pressures in different areas to give you the ultimate pleasure. You moan in ecstasy, allowing yourself to submit to his touch. The back of your head landed on his shoulder and you just laid it there while he played with your breasts. Bakugou chuckled softly in your ear and gently pushed you up.

“Okay, give it a try,” he was addressing Deku. Deku nodded with excitement, eager to continue the session. Bakugou guides you to your partner, but his touch lingered on your back for a second too long. You looked back at your trainer and made eye contact with those fiery, crimson eyes. But your attention was stolen by the green-haired man under you. Deku had this talk to many times before that he goes right in to touch your soft, naked tits. It doesn’t take long for his tongue to find its way to your nipple. His wet tongue sliding against your sensitive buds excited you and only made you want more. You started griding your hips downwards to meet his upwards thrusts.

Very quickly, the chemistry between you two started getting more heated. Clothes were coming off one by one. Deku moves so that he is sitting up while you straddle. You cupped his face and brought him in for a kiss. As you guys were making out, you pull his shirt up to reveal part of his abs. At first, you just wanted to tease and feel his body but your horniess was off the charts and just touching caused you to want more of him.

For a moment, Izuku separates from you to take his shirt off and then his lips are right back on yours. Then he leans you back so you’re laying on your back and he’s leaning over you. He quickly disposes of his clothes and then rips your pants off. He sees that you’re already so wet and don’t need prepping. Neither does Deku apparently. When you looked down, he dick was so erect that precum was already leaking out.

Deku leans over you, panting slightly from your make out session, and lines his dick up with your entrance while pumping it a few times. Before he’s right about to stick it in, Bakugou slaps the back of his head. A now agitated Deku springs up, but before he could say anything, Bakugou just throws a condom at him.

“Slow down. Don’t forget that this is an exercise session. Now I want to see 50 reps,” Bakugou scolded.

“Fuckin hell,” he complains. He looks back at you and smirks. “Ready?” You nod eagerly wanting more than anything to just be fucked right now.

Deku slides his throbbing cock inside your long awaited pussy and you swear you could see stars. The stretch from his thick, veiny dick felt so amazing that your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Deku stayed still to let you adjust to his size. The feeling of being stuffed by a fat cock, and by a handsome guy at that, is already making your pussy clench tightly around him.

Deku lets out a sigh of pleasure and starts thrusting. The numbing feeling caused all his hairs to stand on end.

God, when he put his dick in, man did it feel good. But as soon as he started fucking you, you didn’t feel fully… satisfied. The initial stretch was the best feeling you’ve had yet. For some reason, the sex didn’t feel as good as you wanted it to be. Maybe you were too into your head? Maybe you just had to relax and just have a good time. But that was hard to do when your partner was whispering the countdown to himself.

There was no doubt that Izuku was enjoying his time with you, but he was so concentrated on the 50 reps that he wasn’t thinking about making you feel good. He thrusted inside you, not taking into consideration of where inside you he was hitting. Heat rushed to your cheeks in embarrassment. This wasn’t what you had in mind for your first session. You felt bad that you weren’t enjoying it, but you didn’t want to show it. With each snap of his hips, you forced out a moan to make it believe that you were having a good time. Every now and then, you’d let out a bigger, more convincing moan to change it up a bit.

This sucks. What’s the different between this and having sex with some stranger after a night out? They both can’t hit the right spot. He isn’t even going the speed you want him to. You wanted to be pounded into. You wanted him to fuck you so hard and so rough that you can’t walk the next morning. You wanted him to leave dark bruises all over your body but he wasn’t giving it to you.

You started getting bored midway through his reps and opened your eyes to look around the room. Maybe you could entertain yourself some other way while Deku was having his fun. You happened to look at your trainer who was looking at his own clipboard. He wasn’t even paying attention to you guys at all. He was writing down notes. What was he really writing though? Bakugou glanced away from his notes and made eye contact with you for a quick second. It was only for a second but it was enough to make you feel embarrassed that you got caught. You immediately closed your eyes to pretend that that small little eye contact didn’t happen.

“…48…49….50!” Izuku finally finished, giving you a nice, deep, hard thrust to finish it all off. That was good, but not enough. You eventually got fed up and flipped him over so that now you were on top. You were going to ride him until you were satisfied and full. But before you could lower yourself onto him, Deku holds your shoulders to stop you. He became a little flustered that you decided to take control because this wasn’t a part of the session. He looked at Bakugou for approval and he sighed, but eventually nodded his head.

“We can change it up,” Bakugou allowed. “But, (y/n). Now I want to see 50 reps from you.” He instructed.

“Yes sir,” you replied quickly. You just wanted him inside you, you didn’t have time for this chit-chat. So slowly but surely, you lowered yourself onto his dick, gasping the way he filled you up. You were able to fully sit, his dick disappearing completely inside you. The tip finally hit you where you wanted. Using your heels as leverage, you moved in the way you wanted. You made sure that pull all the way out before slamming into his dick again, loving the way he just fills you up. You loved how you were in control, shaking your ass up and down, hearing your sloppy cunt slap against his skin, how wet it must be down there.

God, but you wanted more. You guided Deku’s hands to grab your ass but all he does it grab onto it. Maybe a squeeze here and there. He was so entranced in the sex, his head was tilted back with his eyes shut closed, constant moans escaped his mouth. He loved the feeling of your pussy clenched around him to even think about anything. But you bit your lip in frustration. You didn’t want his hands just laying on you. You wanted him smack it with as much force as he could. He could put those muscles to use and man handle you a little. But you were here to fend for yourself. A visible pout was permanent on your lips but your partner wasn’t able to see it because he was enjoying himself below you.

But your trainer did. Bakugou was paying close attention to you. From the moment Izuku’s cock entered you to your little pout, he noted every movement and every expression you made. He raised an eyebrow, noting that small action and saving it for later.

Deku’s moans were growing louder and more inconsistent. He bucked his hips up, trying to be in motion with you but was getting sloppier by the second. It soon became too much for him and hot, white cum exploded inside the condom.

“Fuuuuck,” Izuku let out one last breath and flopped his arm out in exhaustion. He took a minute to catch his breath while you were getting off him and already started cleaning yourself up. Dammit, you didn’t even cum.

You were gathering your belongings, meanwhile, Izuku was chatting it up with Bakugou again. Before he leaves, Izuku comes up to you, places a hand on your lower back and gave you a genuine smile.

“Thanks for the amazing session,” he said. You gave him your best, fakest smile.

“Back at ya,” you reply. Your smile dropped the moment you turned around and you sighed in annoyance. You hated to think that you’d have to go home to finish yourself off but it looks like that’s exactly what you were going to have to do. Bakugou came up behind you and cleared his throat, causing you to jump in place.

“How was your first session?” he asked. You took a sip of your water to give it a bit of thought. Was this a fun experience? Oh, most definitely. Would you do it again? Probably. Did you cum? Hard no.

“It was good,” you lied. The experience was definitely new and refreshing but the sex was so mediocre that it was almost a little boring. But you couldn’t tell your trainer that. So you gave a sweet smile and picked up your bag. “I’ll see you at the next session!”

But the next session felt exactly the same as the first. You had a different partner this time. A big, scruffy dude with semi-long red hair that was pulled in a ponytail. He was just as built as Izuku, if not bigger. He had the cutest and sweetest personality. And just seeing him, you’d think this cute puppy would turn into a hungry wolf but you were wrong. As per usual.

Bakugou had made you kneel on this couch that he had provided. Kirishima was fucking you from behind but not hitting any of the right spots. His large hands were placed on your hips but they were glued there and he wasn’t touching you anywhere else.

Again, you faked your moans to mask the image of you not having a good time. Though, when you peeked behind you to get a look at your partner, he was in pure bliss. Eyes closed, mouth hung open, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, sweat trickling down his forehead. Damn, was it a sexy sight. At least he was having a fun time.

Every now and then, your mind would wander. It could be many things: you could think about what you were going to eat for dinner, or what your partner was like in bed with a lover, or if you forgot to turn the light off in your bathroom. Oh shit, what were you doing again? You opened one eye and Kirishima was focused solely on slamming his dick in your vagina. Sighing, you had to remind yourself that this was meant for exercise, not for pleasure. Although, it would be nice if you could feel nice too once in a while. Exercise was the prime reason you signed up but like… you thought it would be a win-win situation.

Your mind continued to wander for the rest of the session until you mind was set on a certain trainer you have the hots for. You could see his muscles through his tight fitted shirt, making him look even more buff than he already was. He looked so strong, you could only imagine what having sex with him was like.

You could imagine it now; face twisted in pleasure as he pounds into mercilessly, just like how you want it. You could feel that familiar butterfly feeling in the pit of your stomach just thinking about it. But then, you thought that he must be like all the other men; only chasing their own high instead of pleasuring their partner.

Session after session was exactly the same. You can pleasure that dick, but he can’t even find the clit. But honestly, you were okay with it because at least you could exercise while doing your favorite sport.

You were wiping yourself up after one session, drinking from a bottled water as your trainer, Bakugou, comes up behind you.

“How was the session?” Bakugou asked after your partner has just left the room. You took another sip of water before answering.

“Mhm, it was okay,” you tried your best to sound positive. You thought your conversation was going to end there, like it always has but something in Bakugou decided to investigate a little further.

“How do you really feel?” he questions you, stepping a little closer and observing your facial features for any lies. “I could tell that you weren’t enjoying it. Off day?” You put your water bottle away, thinking of how to respond to him. Did you really want to tell him how you were really feeling? You didn’t want to seem like a freak to him. Did you really want to tell him how you like to be choked, so much so that you feel like you can’t breath. Or that you want someone to just spank you until there’s bruises because you love the idea of being marked. Or that you want to feel stuffed to the brim but still beg for more?

“I just like it a little rough,” you explained. Bakugou nods his head and hums in understanding.

“I thought they were going pretty rough on you,” he thought. But you just groaned and rolled your eyes.

“I guess, but I want more!” you exclaim, letting out an exasperated sigh. “This is why I have such a hard time with my sex life because every guy is too busy chasing after their own high that they forget that I need to feel good too. Not every guy is into rough sex. I know that. But I just want someone to blow my back out for once! Like not holding back and just fuck me until I’m in tears… but one can only dream, right?” you chuckled at the end. You didn’t mean to go on a tangent but fuck it, why not? He’s your trainer anyway. He’s supposed to know everything about you if he wants to tend to your needs. Bakugou just looks at you in silence. You take that as a sign to continue.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong. This whole program is fun and I really love the idea but just once in a while, I want to have good sex, too,” you continued to open up to your trainer. You finally turned your head to get a look at his reaction to your rant and you saw those crimson getting closer and closer to you until you were right under him, looking up. Your heart skips a beat having him so close to you. You could smell his burnt vanilla caramel cologne, his scent filling all of your senses at once.

“Then would you like a private session?” he asks you in a whisper, his head tilted down at you. You were so mesmerized by him that you followed his every move.

“With who?” you asked.

“Me.” He responded in that sexy, raspy voice of his.

“When?”

“Now.” Bakugou pushes you against the cold mirror as a form of intimidation. Bakugou knows that he shouldn’t be doing this. Taking advantage of your weakness, suggesting private sessions when he’s strictly not allowed to, especially not on company’s time. It was wrong. But he’s had his eyes on you since the moment you walked in the gym for the very first time. And when you said what you said earlier, it was practically fate that you became one of his students.

The cold mirror touching your back sent you into shock, but the warmness of his body touching your chest made up for it all. He tilts your chin up so you could look in his half closed eyes full of lust. And then you couldn’t take it anymore.

You grabbed him by the neck and pulled him in for a hungry kiss. Your lips smashed together, causing your teeth to crash but you didn’t care. And neither did Bakugou because he was just as hungry as you, kissing you with the same amount of passion.

He wraps his arm your waist, pulling you closer to him, if that was even possible at this point. With one swift handful of ass, he lifts you off your feet so that your legs were wrapped around his waist. The moment you became stable, Bakugou gives your ass a smack, making you jolt up.

“Mhm!” you made a surprised noise through the kiss but didn’t stop kissing him. God, you didn’t want to stop. When you came back down, you could feel his erection resting right on top of your clit. He carries you to one of the equipment stored in the room, a couch, while you grind on him, hopping to get more friction to stimulate your needs.

As soon as your back hit the couch, clothes were already being stripped off of you. There goes your shirt, then your sports bra. Finally, your pants. Last but not least, your lace panties that were already wet from your previous session are now even more soaked from his teasing. Wasting no time in discarding your panties, he pulls your waist I so that you’re laying flat on your back, your pussy right in his face I all of its glory.

“Fuck, you’re already so wet for me. I haven’t even done anything yet,” he says. You could feel his beath tickling your wet folds. He was so close yet so far. Just having his breath on you made your pussy clench over nothing. Bakugou puts his nose right on your clit, taking a good whiff of your after workout sex. God, it was intoxicating and he couldn’t wait to dig right in.

“Thank you for the food,” he says before completely devouring you. He took no time in exploring every fold, every inch of your pussy, eating you out like there was no tomorrow. He was rough around your entrance but soft and gentle around your clit. It was like light feather licks, barely touching you but sending you into sensory overload. When he got closer to your entrance, that’s when he started to get rough. Slurping and devouring your wetness, getting every last drop and leaving no leftovers.

Bakugou grabbed hold of your thighs, squeezing them and pulling your body even closer to his face so he could tongue fuck you. His tongue enters you, pushing its way through to get a better taste of your sweet cunt. At the same time, your mouth is hung open in pleasure, moans spilling out of your mouth and you couldn’t stop. Bakugou took this opportunity to stick three fingers in your mouth.

“Noisy bitch. Suck,” he commanded. And so you sucked on his fingers, like a little girl eating her lollipop. He only had three fingers in your mouth, but they were so thick that you couldn’t possibly put any more in. Yet you still covered his fingers in your thick saliva, making sure each finger was coated and wet enough so he could fuck you.

You looked up at him, purposefully making a sultry face, with your big, innocent eyes. You wanted to give him a small show, making sure that he was watching every move that you made. Your tongue found its way in between each finger, licking up and down, sucking each individual finger, and letting go with a loud ‘pop’. You got disappointed when Bakugou removed his hands from you mouth. But was pleasantly surprised when he stuck all three fingers in your throbbing cunt without warning. It’s not like you needed the prepping anyway when you were already soaking wet. Your back arched and chills ran down your spine. You didn’t know how this was possible, but the moment he entered his fingers, it was pure bliss. You already felt like you wanted to cum because he just managed to hit that magical spot in one go. You couldn’t even imagine what it would feel like when he fucks you with his fat cock.

“God, you’re so fucking tight. I can feel you clenching around me,” Bakugou watched as he slides his fingers in and out of your slick folds. He gives you a minute to adjust before picking up the pace. Every thrust of his hand, he keeps getting deeper and is always right the perfect damn spot. It was driving you mad. He hasn’t even fucked you yet and you were already a moaning mess. You couldn’t even form any words, you were such in a trance. It wasn’t before long until you had that familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach. The feeling gradually and rapidly escalated. Bakugou could feel it too: the way your walls clenched around his fingers a little too tight, he knew you were going to cum anytime soon.

“Bakugou~” you whined, holding onto his forearms for dear life. You needed to prepare yourself for this one.

“Gonna cum, princess?” Bakugou teased. You couldn’t answer him. More like you weren’t able to hear his question because you were so focused on this intense feeling that was going to explode any minute. Bakugou took his free hand and pushed your legs up so that they were pressed against your chest. He, then, leaned on them so weren’t able to move or squirm out of his grasp. And he went even faster, the sound of your juices was sinful.

“AH!” you screamed, letting your orgasm take over and wash over you. You thought he would stop once you had your first orgasm but he wasn’t stopping. He continued his fast pace. You wanted to make him stop, the overstimulation was getting too much for you. You tried moving your legs but Bakugou’s grip on you was nailed down. You weren’t going anywhere. You just had to take it but it still felt so good. The moment you felt like it was all too much to handle, Bakugou took his fingers out. And they were covered in a thick, white consistency. If he spread his fingers out, your cum would string along each finger. Bakugou didn’t hesitate to lick it all off with one swipe of his tongue.

“On all fours,” he demanded, standing up while pumping his cock for you. You didn’t have to be asked twice. Despite the numb feeling in between your legs, you enthusiastically got on your hands and knees, ready to be penetrated by your trainer. Bakugou gave your ass a small smack before lining his cock in front of your entrance. That small smack was enough for you to have hearts in your eyes. You let out a small mewl of delight and Bakugou smirked.

“Yeah? You like it when I smack your ass?” Bakugou asked.

“I love when you smack my ass. Please spank me again,” you begged. Bakugou took his hand and gave you cheek another blow, this time harder than the last. Bakugou made sure to look for any change in your expression, careful not to hurt you. But you wanted more. You wanted him to hit your harder.

“Spank me harder, sir,” you pleaded, moving lower so that your ass was hanging in the air. You wiggled your butt, wanting more from the strong blonde. He smirks even bigger, almost animalistic like.

“That’s a good girl,” his voice became raspy and wasted no time in giving you a nice, hard smack to your right cheek. You cried out in a pleasurable pain. You smiled into your moans, drool starting to come out from the sides of your mouth. The sound of his hand making contact to your bare cheek was so loud that it could be heard from outside the closed room. Bakugou spanked you until your cheek was red and raw from his large hands. This. This was what you wanted. This is what you’ve been wanting for so long and you were finally going to get it.

Oh sweetie, the main course hasn’t even started yet. How could you feel this good when he hasn’t even fucked you yet? You could feel the tip of his dick teasing your entrance. You wanted to lean into him yourself, not wanting to wait any longer, but Bakugou had a strong hold on your hips. He gave his cock a few more pumps before slowly sliding his cock inside your ready, wet pussy.

You both moaned in sync at the feeling: his fat cock throbbing inside you and your tight pussy clenching around his cock. Bakugou started thrusting at a good pace. But just like how his fingers felt, he was hitting that sweet spot of yours perfectly. Every thrust was making you see stars.

“Mhm~ Bakugou, faster!” you whined in between moans. Bakugou grabs a fistful of hair before pulling you up so that your back was arched.

“Needy, aren’t we? And what if I say no?” Bakugou asked in your ear. You just whimpered, reaching behind you to grasp his waist and force him to go faster as you try to back into him at the same time. Bakugou didn’t like this too much. He let go out your hair and went straight to your neck, cutting off your air momentarily.

“Did I say you could do that?” he questioned through gritted teeth. You quickly shook your head.

“No, sir,” you barely managed to say due to your lack of oxygen. He gave you another squeeze before a few smacks to the cheek.

“There we go. Now let’s try that again. What if I say no?” he asks again. You bit your lip trying to come up with an answer. But it was hard to think with a hand was at your throat.

“Please! God, I want you so bad. I want you to fuck me, please!” you practically screamed.

“Good girl,” he said and let go of your neck. You gasped for air, coughing in the process but Bakugou didn’t allow you to fully recover. He pounded into you with no mercy. You couldn’t stop your ahego expression from happening, your tongue hung out and your eyes crossed.

He stopped pounding into you to slowly slide his cock fully out of you before slamming into you again. It felt heavenly but a naughty thought came to your mind. You were probably going to get punished for it later, but you were feeling rebellious in the moment. When he slide his cock out, before he could enter you again, you got up and pushed him on the couch. Midair, Bakugou sensed what you were doing. So instead of being victorious and pining him down, he flipped you so that you were pined against the couch, your hands pined above your head.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he gets close to you. You giggle and look away playfully.

“Not playing by the rules,” you laughed. Bakugou couldn’t help but break a smile as well.

“Naughty, naughty. I’ll show you who’s the dominant one,” he said and smashed his cock back inside you, not giving you time to breath or adjust to him in this new position.

You could feel another wave coming and it was fast approaching. Bakugou was being even more vocal now, huffing and groaning into your neck. His hips rutted into you sloppier each second and more frantic. He was getting close too.

You whined loudly, not being able to hold onto anything as your orgasm hit you like a tsunami so you arched your back and fumbled with your legs. The clenching of your walls caused Bakugou to reach his limit. He pulled out, spraying his cum all over your stomach and chest. His hot cum felt sticky on your skin. Despite being covered in his specimen, Bakugou pulled you close to his sweaty body, your foreheads resting together while you both catch your breath.

You entered the gym with a smile and a skip to your walk. You got a little surprised when you saw that your trainer and new partner were inside the room before you. Puffing out a cheek in disappointment, you scold yourself for not leaving earlier. You were always early to get a good stretch in. But as soon as you saw your handsome trainer, a smile came back to your face.

You rushed to his side, jumping into his arms and giving him a kiss on the lips.

“Hi, baby!” you greeted him. He smiles back at you.

“Ready for your session?” he asks and you just give him a lovey dovey smile and a nod.

“Ah, this is one of my good friends. He’ll be your partner for today,” Bakugou sets you down to introduce you to yet another partner. The two toned hair guy gives you a shy wave.

“Todoroki. You can call me Shouto,” he introduces himself. Aw, he seems really sweet. Shy, but hopefully he’s not like that in bed. Todoroki leads to you the mat on the floor to get your session started. You glanced back at your trainer and give him a wink. He shakes his head at you but you didn’t miss that smile he was trying to hide. Because you know that he was going to make up for this session later tonight.

[wh6res]

three's a crowd | nomin

synopsis. picking favorites is impossible when you like neither of them.

warning. read at your own risk. abuse, bullying, poly relationship, yandere themes, manipulation, nonconsensual touching, noncon, degradation, smut threesome oop

disclaimer. i do not condone whatever tf i wrote in this nor does it reflect my beliefs or values or morals and such. it is all pure fiction and i also dont think jaemin or jeno would act like this in real life.

note. this was meant to be a new year's gift lmao i obviously got a lil carried away 👀 anyway a late happy new year to you all! we survived 2020, let's start living in 2021, yeah? lmao if covid lets us grr mwah!

the relationship you had with the two of them was a weird one, bordering on taboo, but it wasn't as if you willfully chose to be who they wanted you to be and it took jaemin's unwanted pining and jeno's intimidating demeanor for you to fall right into their arms.

it was a joint effort on their part, you couldn't've possibly stood a chance.

"this many?" the cashier asked. "are you sure?"

stepping back and studying the whole situation, you figured you only had your addiction to caffeine and procrastination to blame. it was a chain reaction you didn't even know will lead up to your inevitable doom.

if you hadn't been slacking off during your first semester of junior year college, you wouldn't be forced to overwork yourself trying to catch up to the looming deadlines, but to be able to 'work yourself to the bone' you need your boost of energy… and that was when you met one of them.

"uhm," you scratch the back of your head sheepishly as you eye the six glass bottles of iced coffee. sure, it looks bad and you kinda appreciate the look of concern the cashier throws your way but it was none of his business.

"yes. now could you, like, you know… hurry up? i'm in a little bit of a time crunch right now."

screw it. although you hardly snap like that with other people on a daily basis, it'll be a whole different conversation if you were under a significant amount of stress and today, unfortunately, is one of those days.

now can he just fucking stop asking questions and give you your six bottles of death drink to keep your fucking brain going so you can pass an eight-page essay tomorrow? thank you very much!

the guy snickered, the beeping sound of a barcode being read sounding a thousand times more annoying than it usually sounds as he keeps his hand busy by punching your items out.

you fail to notice how he studies you through the gaps of his lashes, finding you interesting rather than threatening as you stood before him with your messy hair and oversized hoodie.

"haven't seen you around university grounds 'till today," he tries striking another conversation with you. "you new? i'm jaemin."

this was your first mistake, you shouldn't have been so… downright rude when you met him. if you were granted the miracle of meeting him a 2nd time, you would've acted more nice, throwing yourself at his feet even to blend in with the rest of his fangirls you didn't even know about at the time. you would've done anything to make sure he never gives you a second glance, to never pique his interest.

jaemin is the pep squad captain. flying over colored blue mats and doing tumblings in the air with no ounce of fear. he was the best in his team, that much was evident when your friend dragged you into watching a pep rally practice. his landings were clean, balanced, and executed to the best he can at all times.

no wonder he was popular, his talent is outstanding and his looks are a bonus. his killer combo of a smile and wink after pulling off a tough flip is enough to send them squealing in their seats.

he spotted you that day and since then, he snuck the quickest glances at the bench during practices. recognizing you as the coffee girl he met during his convenience store shift. jaemin tries not to let his disappointment show too much when he doesn't see you, but of course, a pair of cold calculating eyes could see right through him.

"i saw that," his boyfriend said, hand darting forward to hold jaemin's gym bag for him. "you kept looking at the crowd. do you want to see her that much?"

"but she reminds me so much of you, jeno!" he retorts, pouting at the slight grumpy tone the other boy used. "i can't help it. she doesn't seem to give a fuck around me so she's quite interesting. maybe she can even be a great addition to our relationship!"

"well," jeno replies after a beat of silence, plastering a small smirk on his face before slinging an arm around jaemin's shoulder.

"convince me?"

you don't like jaemin's attention. not in the slightest. and it seems that was enough reason for the reign of terror his little fanclub has subjected you too.

it wasn't the petty elementary forms of bullying like pulling at your hair or calling you names. they pale in comparison to the other things they do to you—beating you up, messing with your homework, "accidentally" dumping their food trays on you.

and you weren't stupid.

you knew exactly who was behind it, knew how jaemin spectates the whole thing from afar so that he can swoop in at the end to play your knight in shining armor.

"oh, you poor thing. do you need help?"

the first time you accepted his "help" you ended up in a supply closet near the gym during your free period, cornered and weak as your cries for help drowns under the squeaking of shoes and the booming sounds of rubber balls hitting the floor.

if it weren't for jeno appearing out of thin air and prying the boy off of you, you would've been painted blue and red from the death grip he had on your wrist, neck, and waist.

you can still remember feeling the soreness of your scalp from when he pulled your hair too hard. remembered feeling his teeth gnawing at your lips as if he wanted to tear them off.

that time hadn't been the first time you saw jeno. you've shared a few classes with him and it strikes you how polar opposites they are with one another.

while jaemin likes to bask in his professor and classmates' recognition by confidently reciting his answers, jeno would rather keep to himself. liked sitting at the last row, near the window, so he'd be the first to go once the professor ends their lecture. while jaemin loved the attention of his fangirls, jeno preferred solitude. while jaemin is impulsive and wild, jeno liked to think things through.

it was within these reasons that you decided to do what you did. but your judgement of character has never been more wrong.

you approached jeno one day in the library, tried to make yourself appear as stoic and confident as possible. but your constant slouching and averting eyes was a dead giveaway.

you came to talk to him about what jaemin has been doing, hoping there's one person left in this entire school that isn't under the cheer captain's trance. the one reasonable person that has already saved you once and (hopefully) is willing enough to save you again. the only one that probably has a certain level of control over jaemin, if the supply closet incident is anything to go by.

but you've overestimated lee jeno.

"you should've just given jaemin what he wanted."

"but—but aren't you two lovers? isn't it bothering you?"

you try baiting him, only for an uncomfortable shiver to start crawling down your spine when he chuckled humorlessly, pushing his school materials to the side while pinning you with an unreadable stare.

how can a person make someone feel so small just by a gaze alone? it was nothing like you've felt with jaemin. this is way worse.

"the only thing that's bothering me is why you're not ours yet."

you feel cold fingers creeping their way under your shirt, going higher and higher until it brushes against your bra. and when your eyes meet, the look on his face was unmistakable—what are you going to do about it, huh?

you stood up in lightning speed, the chair you've been sitting on scraping loudly against the floor.

you've never ran out as fast as you did.

and jeno swears it'll be the last.

you tried everything in your power to ignore them for the next following weeks but it soon became useless when the two boys took it upon themselves to give you your space.

although judging by the pinpricks you feel on your back, and the constant weight of a stare you feel on your shoulders, you knew they weren't done with you yet. far from it. and for some reason, you just knew they wanted to lull you into a false sense of security first before striking again.

and while they continued to ogle at you from afar like a hawk circling its prey in a desert, you took it upon yourself to return the favor. not because you were the slightest bit interested in those creeps but maybe, just maybe, if you look hard enough you'll find a way out, a weakness.

but what you realized made your insides churn in great discomfort—although it may seem that jeno holds the reins in the relationship since his reserved nature fits the role, it's actually the other way around.

jaemin might appear too self-centered, too focused on himself to give a fuck about his surroundings but in actuality, he has quite a knack for reading people. even more so than jeno. and it was scary how he used it to his advantage, and paired up with his devoted fangirls? it was hell on earth.

you found it alarming how the two seem to magically appear wherever you are.

although you weren't in the least bit surprised. for some reason, you can't take your eyes away when jaemin's devotees flock around him (and jeno) in a circle.

it almost reminds you of a shoal of piranhas, waiting for their meal to drop into the water before ripping it to shreds with their teeth. only their "meal" isn't actual flesh but the carefully crafted words jaemin says that drive them into a sick frenzy.

one that has them doing everything in their power to satisfy him like the loyal dogs they are.

so this was how he got them to bully you?

"oh, that? don't worry! yangyang just ran into me during cheer rehearsal. no biggie. my cheek stung a little bit, though…" is what he said but really he's telling them "scruff him up a bit for me, why don't ya?"

"of course, i can't be the best all the time. haechan is just too good, maybe even better than me…" is what he said but really he's telling them "can you remind him where his place should be?"

all the while jeno did nothing to hold him back.

no matter how wrong jaemin is, how much of an asshole he is, jeno will stick by his side through and through. so as much as jaemin is a puppeteer that gets a kick for controlling people, jeno is as much at fault for looking the other way.

because in jeno's perspective, why the fuck would he do shit when he can just get off from the entertainment that comes with jaemin's sweet little mind games?

we lost :(

you had been busy sorting through paperwork for one of your professors in the faculty when your friend texted you the results of the intercollegiate cheer dance competition. a frown paints your face, heart feeling heavy at the bad news.

in all honesty, you still supported the pep squad—you just hated the captain and his boyfriend. they've been practicing non-stop for this and prior to the weeks of the competition, jeno looked a lot more tense and jaemin less smiley than usual. you swore you even saw the latter snap at one of his fangirls.

not to mention, they paid less attention to you, too, and it was the best three weeks of your life.

tension starts rising in your shoulders, fingers absentmindedly running through the edge of the papers you had been sorting until you became immersed with your thoughts.

jaemin must be in the worst mood yet.

and jeno too, probably. if anything, that guy gets triggered the most when something bad happens to jaemin or when he catches snippets of people talking shit about his oh so "perfect" boyfriend.

jeno is a lot scarier when jaemin is in one of his mood swings, you noticed. he steps up in the relationship to offer comfort to the other boy and for outsiders? it isn't a great experience to go through—being on the receiving end of jeno's ice cold stare is a position you don't want to find yourself in after that time in the library.

he is still as much a threat to your peaceful life like his lover.

you snap out of it when the blinding headlights of a vehicle seep through the closed blinds. you hear the gentle hum of an engine switching off as the headlights vanished as quick as they had appeared. that must be the cheer squad's bus.

as you look around the empty faculty room, something in your gut tells you to ditch file sorting duty for professor kim tonight and fucking get the hell out of campus grounds as quick as you can.

after haphazardly throwing the unsorted papers back into the cabinet, you groan aloud when the keys to the office drop out of your skirt’s pocket.

the indoor gym where the cheering squad practices is right across the hallway. you sure as hell don't want to bump into jaemin. or jeno, too, if he had decided to ride along the cheer squad's bus on the way home.

you kept looking for the keys underneath the cubicles, cursing aloud when you heard the telltale squeaks of shoes rubbing against linoleum. you almost hit your head against a table when you quickly got back up your feet, darting forward to shut the lights for the faculty room.

they can't know you're here. alone. and if it meant sitting in the dark for a few hours 'till they leave, meant going back home a little later than usual is what you have to do then so be it.

you try not to react so violently when the door you're leaning on jolts when someone from outside slams their back against it.

"it's not like we didn't do our best, right guys? i don't have regrets. it might sound fucking cheesy and although i'm sad myself, atleast we did what we can."

it's jaemin. his voice clear as day.

you try peaking, craning your neck up from your place on the floor. only to see the back of his head leaning against the glass section of the door. someone else joins in on the conversation, followed by coach park himself, and you slowly tune out whatever they're saying as you stealthily start scanning the faculty room.

you curse under your breath. is there no other exit other than this door? jesus christ! even classrooms in this university had two doors—

"what are you doing here?"

the switch flickers on, basking the once dark room with light. only when you hear an echo of your name being called, did you snap out of it and quickly picked yourself up from the floor.

"i said, what are you doing here?"

their coach asks, drilling the question as he looks at you skeptically with his arms crossed. you try not to look at the people behind him.

particularly, not at his cheer captain standing on his right.

particularly, not at jeno, who stands out like a sore thumb with his blue hair, a protective arm snaked around jaemin’s shoulders.

this isn't your lucky day, too, you guess.

"i was…" you cursed yourself for stuttering. "i was, uhm, i was file sorting for prof—professor kim, sir."

coach park looked like he didn't believe you as he narrowed his eyes in scrutiny. your nerves are going haywire and you can feel the sharp pins of their stare with how close they are.

you kept juggling your weight with the balls of your feet, hands fisting and unfisting behind your back. you want to leave. you have to leave.

"file sorting… in the dark?" he asked incredulously.

fuck this.

"uhm, you can ask professor kim himself tomorrow, coach. for now, uh, i'll be going now. i'm sorry you guys lost…"

originally, the exit is on the right side, at the end of the hallway. but no, you are not going to pass by those two while on your way out so you ducked behind a random student standing on the coach's left instead and practically ran away from the scene.

everyone had been too busy. too busy looking at your retreating form to even notice jaemin and jeno exchanging glances, too busy to notice the latter untangling himself from their captain to slip away unnoticed, his hurried steps filled with a burning purpose.

you didn't know why you ran, but you did. your shoes practically booming against the floor as you sped away through darkened hallways. you're sweating profusely, heart hammering in your chest. you can worry about professor kim tomorrow but right now you just had to—

"why are you in such a rush, pet?"

crashing into jeno felt like crashing into a wall. if it hadn't been for his arm quickly wrapping around your waist, then you would've landed on your butt before him.

with the small distance between the two of you, jeno could see as clear as day through your eyes.

jaemin was right.

it was addicting to stare into them.

especially when he can see every single one of your thoughts flying through your pretty little head. but hey, it wasn't their fault you were so easy to read.

jeno barely conceals the wicked smirk on his lips when your hands come up to his chest, trying to push him away but to no avail.

he can see your eyes shifting from shock, to confusion, until it finally settles on fear—to which it's slowly becoming a favorite emotion of his to see on your face.

"you know, jaemin is in a really shitty mood right now. and we were wondering, maybe you can cheer us up?"

no. this can't be happening.

"jeno, please." your dilated eyes and disheveled hair made his blood run south. "let me go. you don't want me. you don't need a third party in your relationship."

you yelp when he lets you go, literally shoving you against a wall—which you found out is actually a door, as it swings open as soon as your body crashes against it.

with jeno looming unforgivingly before you in his full height, the tears stung extra hard but you won't let them fall.

if he wanted to bask in the image of your weakness then it'll be something you'll deprive from him for as long as you can.

"i don't need a stupid bitch like you to tell me what i feel." he scoffs. "don't fucking kid yourself, you little whore—i don't want you. i'm not jaemin."

the echo of the classroom door shutting closed surged through you like a wake up call.

this is really happening.

you've always led a decent life, had done nothing too questionable and you've always thought maybe life will spare you if you lived quietly enough. but the feel of jeno's freezing hands crawling against your skin felt like life itself had spat at you in the eye and left you to rot in a ditch.

"i've always liked how you wore skirts," he comments. playing with the ruffled hem of the soft fabric as he purposely grazed his knuckles against your supple thighs. "gives me easy access, don't you agree?"

you scream when he flips your skirt up to reveal the innocent pink of your cotton panties. it was as if a switch had flipped inside of you and the will to fight started coursing through your veins.

"stop! jeno! i don't want this!"

his brows furrow, grunting as he struggles to push the waistline of your skirt up higher with how much you're thrashing underneath him. you buck your hips, tried curling in on yourself, anything to prolong what he wants to do to you.

with your legs trapped underneath his, you blindly reach forward, relying on your upper body instead to push and scratch whatever your palms and nails reached.

you continue screaming like a banshee until he shoved two fingers into your wet cavern.

"stop fighting me," he sounded strained, as if he's holding himself back. you feel him fisting the fabric of your skirt and you fear he's simply going to rip it apart.

you tried responding to him, only the sound had been muffled, gurgled by the flat of his fingers pushing down against your tongue mercilessly. when you reach forward to push him away, your hands land on the apple of his cheeks, nails digging through skin.

until it slips and—

you lie rigid when red scratch marks in the size of your fingernails slowly appear on jeno's skin, his head turned to the side as he paused. your actions slowly start sinking in to him as he shuts his eyes and bit his lip 'till it looked like it was about to bleed.

oh no.

"jeno—"

the slap he planted on your cheek left your ears ringing. all those hard earned muscles of his put to good use—if the tears hadn't fallen for the last few minutes, then it definitely started falling now.

the hit had been so strong, a few of your hair flew astray, the buzzing feeling of your skin tempting you to reach a hand up to soothe your abused cheek.

until jeno let out a low growl and your hand immediately drops limp against your body, afraid of whatever else he can do to you other than a slap.

"that's more like it," he whispers under his breath. you let out the tiniest of whimpers when his hand darts forward to fist your hair. "do you know what happens to bad girls? they fucking get busted up. do you understand me?"

his patience is nonexistent.

jeno slams your head against the floor when you don't answer because you thought his question had been rhetorical. it felt like your skull had been split in two as you wail in pain.

"are you fucking deaf—i asked you a fucking question!"

the hand that cups your jaw is painful as he squeezed your cheek with his blunt nails. your hand shoots up to wrap around his wrist, silently pleading for him to let up as you sobbed out loud. you started nodding as best as you can despite his firm grip on your face.

your reply was nothing short of pathetic. with lips forcefully pursed and the steady stream of your tears and snot rolling down your face, your response is gargled and hardly incoherent and jeno seemed to thoroughly enjoy your anguish if the condescending curl on his lips is anything to go by.

"look at you," he whispers, his face coming close to yours as he holds you down. there was something in the way jeno stared so intently that it made your skin crawl.

"i think you're prettiest when ruined like this."

with his nose touching yours, he felt too close, bordering on intimate as you felt his hand creep back up your thighs, trailing up with feather-like touches that made goosebumps appear on your skin.

you tried wiggling your legs underneath him but one sharp look from jeno is enough to make you stop.

the hand holding your face moves. coming down from gripping your face to encircling his hand around your neck.

"do you like it when i touch you? freaky bitch."

his hands trail further up, up, up until you felt him slotting a finger underneath your panties.

jeno didn't like how frozen you were underneath him as he pulls at the hem before letting go. the elastic snapping back against your skin.

the action evokes a strong feeling through the young male, promising to have you writhing and screaming and begging because by the end of all this, you'll be so needy and frustrated that you will have no choice but to give in to what your body wanted.

"jeno, didn't i tell you to play nice?"

someone stands by the door, the minimal light from the hallway creating a silhouette with his form but you knew who he was. that deep voice, with the same annoying flippant tone, is a dead giveaway.

you didn't know why you even hoped in the beginning. as if there'll be someone who can save you from these two.

you thought the flash of hurt in your eyes was quick to disappear but jeno noticed it quicker.

in a span of seconds, he pulled you up from your position from the ground and tugged you towards his lap. you haven't even gotten the time to settle on your new position when he already smashed his lips against yours.

it was messy. too much saliva. too much teeth. no tenderness to it at all.

the fabric of his jeans felt rough, not to mention the ice cold belt buckle made you severely uncomfortable as it seeps through the thin fabric of your skirt.

when you attempt to hover over his lap, jeno grunts as he snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you back down without your lips breaking away from each other. you didn't know why he let out a whine, but you understood the moment you fully sat down on his lap and you felt a tent on his jeans hitting your clothed entrance perfectly.

in a normal circumstance, you would've found everything hot and might've actually gotten off from it but not when it's him who’s doing this to you and you didn’t consent to any of this.

you start squirming again. palms lying flat against jeno's chest as you attempt to push him away and jaemin sees this as the opportune moment to slot himself behind you, caging you in between them.

“i want my turn,” he hisses and without an ounce of hesitation, jeno stops to do what he's told.

jaemin doesn't waste any second to grab your face, awkwardly craning your neck up to meet his lips in the same feverish kiss.

while jeno had been all teeth and aggression, practically forcing you to open your mouth and kiss him back, jaemin on the other hand is more soft, more romantic, you daresay. he seemed to like taking his sweet time by clutching your face, kissing you like he actually meant it.

he pulls away slightly, resting his forehead against yours as he murmurs something incoherent under his breath and then he's kissing you again.

you think you heard something along the lines of, "finally."

you've been too distracted by jaemin to notice jeno's nimble fingers quickly fumbling with the buttons of your blouse. it was only when you feel the sensation of his tongue laving against the swell of your breast did you turn away from jaemin, jerking backward in surprise.

"no—!"

your scream is cut off by a hand cupping your mouth. jaemin pulls your back towards his chest, molding your body against his as jeno licked and suckled all he wanted, thankful to have the other boy there to not worry about restraining you and keeping you quiet while he has his fun.

"ah, ah, ah," jaemin teases, going hard over the pleading and teary look you sent his way. it looked pathetic, he wasn't going to lie, but it doesn't mean he didn't love it. "just keep still and appreciate jeno's efforts to take care of you, alright baby?"

you don't like how he talked as if this was all a mutual thing, how he talked slowly like you were some toddler who didn't understand anything.

it's cruel how jaemin giggled and basked in your vulnerable state as he kept his eyes pinned on you while undoing the zipper of your skirt. your muffled cries of his name only serving to egg him on.

the way he stared was similar to jeno, too intently and intrusive, like he wants to burn your image of despair in the back of his head.

you whined involuntarily when jeno got bored of all the licking and thus decided to start biting and nipping at your chest instead. he was hypnotised by how responsive you were, how every little bite and nibble made you shudder.

it was a shame that jaemin had to cover your mouth. he didn't get to hear your pretty mewls but it wasn't as if he'd let the night end without hearing them loud and clear.

jaemin is fast in undressing you, feeling slightly betrayed by how quick your skirt and blouse fell under his hands.

you know what he wants, what he's going to do, and the tears fall harder when you can't dodge away from him. forced to endure and accept whatever they give you.

"you act like you don't like it but look how fucking wet you are," you bit your lip hard when jaemin starts circling the pads of his fingers against your clit, fascinated by how more juices streamed down your thighs.

"jeno, do you see this? fuck."

you can only blink in defeat, staring off to the side as you force down any noise bubbling up your throat, forcing yourself to think of anything else other than what's happening right now.

you try not to think about how they managed to tear all of your clothes off while they're left completely dressed. tried not to think about the fingers lazily drawing up and down your slit to collect your essence.

if they're doing this as a way to further humiliate you, it's working.

"slut," jeno mocked, a wicked curl on his lips when he wraps his fingers around your throat. the moment he dives down to claim your lips again is the same time jaemin pushes two fingers inside you.

"look at how wet you are because of me," jaemin whispers hot against your ear and you feel a sick churn in your stomach when you feel his smile against your skin.

he purposely drives his fingers in and out quicker, settjng a brutal pace, wanting you to hear the lewd squelching sounds. "hear that? do you hear that, darling? that's because of me—"

"don't go talking big now, jaem," jeno retorts, pulling away from your lips to start nibbling on the back of your ear. "i was here first. did you see how she fucking reacted when i sucked on her tits?"

you're quick to catch how jeno particularly loved degrading you. but how he talks about you as if you're literally not in front of him naked made you hit a new all-time low.

you felt… filthy.

his hands find purchase on your butt—only because jaemin has already claimed the front. for now.

you close your eyes tight when he painfully squeezes the flesh of your ass. you swear, his blunt nails will paint your skin black and blue.

"i'm the favorite!"

"i'm the favorite!"

as someone who's part of a varsity team, you already knew a competitive nature runs through jaemin's veins. but never had you thought jeno would share the same sentiment. once again they prove that they're cut from the same cloth.

all of a sudden it wasn't all about claiming you as theirs anymore rather it was all about who can make you moan the loudest, who can make you cum the most, who can make you feel the dirtiest you can be.

you're absolutely terrified for the hours to come.

thankfully, they have yet to ask for your verbal opinion or validation. they let your body do all the talking—every repressed shudder and sharp gasp is enough.

but it's game over once they pop the million dollar question.

"who do you like best?"

you don't want to find out the consequences if you actually answered their question because you didn't know what could be worse.

jaemin's manipulation or jeno's aggression?

but it was all normal. trial and error is inevitable in order to build and mold you into the ideal lover for the both of them.

because adding someone new to the mix has never been easy—after all, three's a crowd.

[genesisrose74]

um hello 😳 I would like to request a fic 🥴 uhM could I get a (general, platonic lol) fukurodani with a shy third year manager? with like a subtle bokuto x manger 😳 ? oh and one day, the manager builds up the courage to give them a very quiet but motivational speech ? (bonus poiNts if they’re like,,, “protective” over them ahaha 🥴) anyways uh,, ty ty ! 😳 - @your-local-bnha-writer // bean ! ☺️

Okay first off thank you for being my first ever ask and second I ADORE THAT! Here you are darling, hope I did something to your liking!

The school halls of Fukurodani Academy bustles with activity, students hurrying to start their weekend after leaving the campus grounds. Well, all but yourself. You were zipping up your backpack and preparing to make a beeline towards one of your favorite places on campus. As the manager of Fukurodani’s volleyball team, you always made it a rule to be standing in the practice gym on time, note taking clipboard in hand and first aid kit slotted neatly between the legs of your chair. God knows you needed one (or three) on hand. Today, you were running a bit behind after being chosen to clean up the room, so you felt ready to hightail it across school.

However, you were stopped in the doorway of your now empty classroom, effectively halting your movements to get to team practice. You recognized the figure in front of you as one of your fellow third year students from the class down the hall - quite a popular soccer player if you were remembering correctly - but you internally panicked when you couldn’t put a name to the face.

“Hey, you’re the one who scored super high on the midterms a while back, right?” He asks, and you nod, feeling a little impatient but too timid to excuse yourself.

He didn’t seem to notice your antsy behavior, however, a grin widening on his face as he leaned closer to you in eagerness. Your lungs squeeze in your chest with his proximity.

“That’s super awesome! Do you think that, maybe you could tutor me sometime?”

Social interaction was something you were not very skilled at. While many people had asked you before for after school help and such, it was usually over text or around your friends, where you felt a bit more comfortable. Usually they would understand and politely go on their way. Yet now, you were having trouble conversing with this guy, let alone tutoring him, and there was no one else you knew in sight to help explain as you only became more fidgety.

“Well, I’m really sorry,” you clasp your hands in front of you, looking down as you fiddle with your fingers, “but I don’t think I can tutor anyone currently.”

The boy tilts his head, eyebrows furrowing. “But I thought you tutored Bokuto. Why not me?”

Your eyes widen. Now it looks like you’re just turning this guy down because you don’t like him, doesn’t it? “Oh, Bokuto is…” how do I explain?

Not many people knew that you were the manager of Fukurodani’s volleyball team. Such a lively sport and an even rowdier team didn’t seem like a very fitting place for someone as reserved as yourself. If they did know that, they might be able to see the large chunk of time it took up in your schedule, not leaving much room for everything else. Bokuto was an exception for tutoring, because you would help him out in the club room after practice, but that was really all you had time for.

Maybe if you could explain that, this boy might understand. Yet he was so close to your personal space, it was making it more difficult to speak than usual.

How long have you both been standing here? You’re already late for practice at this point.

“Did I do something that made you upset? Or are you just interested in Bokuto or something?” the third year presses.

Your body jolts at his inquiries, voice a bit higher pitched than before when you answer. “N-no! It’s not like that!”

“Then what’s the issue?” he leans forward even more, and now you can’t tell if he’s intentionally trying to be nosy or if he’s just being inquisitive. It doesn’t matter to you as you keep stumbling over your words.

“She’s our manager, that’s the issue,” a voice speaks up behind the unnamed boy, and your shoulders loosen up when you recognize the new presence to be Akaashi. There’s another figure beside him, his trademark hairstyle easily identifiable, and he only makes you feel more at ease.

Bokuto is next to you in a moment, already in his practice gear. You look up at him with confusion written on your features, eyes conveying a silent question of why are you here?

“You’re never late,” he explains with an easy grin. “So we wanted to check up on you.”

His hand is on your arm as Bokuto gently guides you over to the open hall, watching as Akaashi explains your occupation as their manager to the third year from earlier. As impassive as the setter is while he speaks, the male he’s talking to does not look very secure under the hardened stare of the Fukurodani captain beside you.

Before you can properly register or wave it off, the boy apologizes profusely to you before scurrying out of the building as quick as he can. Akaashi turns to you with a soft smile, although the rest of his posture expresses concern. “Are you alright?”

“I’m okay,” you confirm. “I don’t think he was trying to be pushy on purpose.”

“Still,” Bokuto speaks up, unusually serious, “he shouldn’t have kept getting that close to you. It was clearly making you uncomfortable.”

His mood suddenly shifts when he looks into your eyes, voice energized and inviting as he juts his thumb over his shoulder in the now less-crowded hall. “Want to get to practice now?”

A nod is all the setter and spiker duo need to string you along on their trek back to the gym. Akaashi is relatively quiet, sometimes throwing his two cents in but mostly letting Bokuto take the lead on conversation. The second year offers you a stick of Pocky that you gladly accept, laughing gently about something Bokuto said in his class that afternoon. When you all reach the entrance of the gym, there’s no longer tension in your body, and your heart warms when you spot the entire team waiting for you to arrive.

Komi, who’s in your classroom, greets you with a somewhat guilty expression when you enter. “I didn’t realize you got stuck with clean up or I would have stayed behind to help.”

You shake your head at the sentiment. “It’s alright, you would have been cutting it close getting here.”

The rest of the boys wave at you, sharing their concern for your whereabouts when you weren’t in the gym on time. You can’t help but shy away a bit from the attention, but a smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you help set up with the knowledge that your team truly cared for you.

While you’d only known some players on the team for less than a year now, it already felt like they were part of the close friends you had accumulated over your last three years in the volleyball club. As much as it seemed out of character for you to be open to such an unruly team and their sport, it was one of the places that you felt the most comfortable. Leaving the job behind you when the time came later in the year was something you hated dwelling on, as you knew it would be one of the hardest things to let go of.

Konoha hitting that line shot just right, Washio and Onaga high fiving after stuffing a block, Komi spitting out his water in laughter when Saru completely botched his jump serve. Things so trivial, but the moments that you’d remember for a long time coming.

Of course, you’d stay in touch with your team, especially the third years with which you’d spent so many memories. But you wanted to give them something to remember you by, something to convey how special your three years with them had been. It was difficult, though, seeing as you were more soft spoken than others. It felt like a hindrance on how much appreciation you could show your team, even more so when there were so many kind and outgoing members who could brighten your day in an instant. You could barely even muster up the courage to speak to the whole team at once, despite the progress you had made with being more sociable during your time in the club.

So what could you do?

“Someone looks happier,” Bokuto notes, snapping you out of your thoughts. He takes a seat on a folding chair beside you, drinking his water while giving you the side eye.

You hum in agreement with his observation, and the captain sports another one of his easy smiles, although his eyes seem more affectionate this time around. “I’m glad.”

Your cheeks turn rosy whenever he looks at you like that, and you’re hoping he just thinks it’s a product of your shyness, regardless of the fact that you feel the most confident and outgoing whenever said third year is around. Fortunately for you, he doesn’t seem to notice it, instead standing to rummage through his bag behind the set of chairs.

A large piece of fabric is placed around your shoulders, which you notice to be Bokuto’s team jacket as it covers you. You push your arms through the jacket sleeves, much too over-sized for your figure, but you’re very much content as it instantly warms you up.

“You always forget yours,” he chides, although his sweet smile betrays his scolding tone. “I’m starting to think you like mine better.”

“Mine’s in my locker, which I never go past cause I’m always rushing here,” you mumble, looking away from him in embarrassment.

It had become a very usual habit of yours to take the captain’s jacket during practices, and it was even more common in the past year as you’d grown even closer to him. It was just so comfy and big on you, not to mention it smelled like him.

Hahahaha what-

Bokuto falters for a moment when you glance back up at him, sweater paws adjusting the clothing to look less awkward on your sitting form. He feels his heart skip a beat when you give him an appreciative half-smile. “Thanks.”

The ace clears his throat and scratches the back of his neck, becoming the shyer one in that moment as his gaze falls on anything but you. “Yeah, no problem.”

While the Fukurodani captain returns to his place on the court for an end of practice scrimmage, you take the time to look around the group of players you’d come to know and love so much. The final regular season tournament was closing in quicker than you hoped, and then it might very well be time to say goodbye. Still, you felt only a content warmth as you watched your team - from the jacket around your shoulders or from something else, you weren’t sure - as you came to a decision.

You were going to give the best damn pep talk that your boys have ever heard.

For the remainder of practice you sat in that same folding chair, clipboard in hand and first aid kit between your feet, and you scribbled the hell out of your notes. Every draft would start off strong, and you felt good about the direction of what you wanted to say, but then you hadn’t the slightest clue of how to convey your next message in the following sentence. Nothing flowed correctly or seemed good enough, so you scratched out your words and started again. That cycle continues for what seems like forever, and before you know it, the sounds of team encouragement and sneakers squeaking on the floor no longer fill your ears.

You jump a bit after registering the team calling you over for a quick huddle, scurrying beside Coach Yamiji as you freak out over the fact that practice is already over.

Shit, shit, shit. Not enough time.

Coach discusses the upcoming tournament with everyone, but you’re falling in and out of focus, frantically tapping a pen on the clipboard in your grasp. There was practically nothing you could use on it’s pages, everything either scratched out or just not even completed. The concrete resolve you had built up beforehand felt as if it were falling away like eroding sand while insecurity bubbled up inside. If it weren’t for the intense focus the boys were putting into today’s post-practice talk, a few might have noticed your fidgety demeanor, but the meeting felt much too quick until it was already time for the last cheer.

Did the moment really pass away?

Worry on what to say fell away into disappointment as each team member joined their hands in. Maybe you should just leave it be.

But your own, jacket-covered hands hesitated to meet in the middle, instead reaching out to the side and grabbing at an unassuming Akaashi.

No. That’s the only thing that crossed your mind once the doubts passed through. You tug at the setter’s practice shirt a bit, the second year looking over to you with curiosity. Bokuto also looks your way, and the rest of the team follows suit when they realize their captain-vice captain duo have their attention captured. Hands drop from the middle of the circle as you make no move to include yours.

“You alright?” Akaashi asks, face impassive except for his worried eyes.

You nod, taking in a breath as you scan the group of inquisitive boys. “I’m fine. I just - c-could I say something?”

Your voice barely raises above a murmur when addressing the team, but the widened eyes of each member indicates that everyone heard you. The shake out of their surprise quickly, though, expressions encouraging of your request.

“Of course you can, y/n!” Bokuto animatedly supports with a huge grin. “Go ahead, team manager!”

A smile of your own tugs at your lips, the captain’s boisterous attitude easing your nervousness. You hug the scribbled upon clipboard to your chest as you start, knowing for a fact that your words wouldn’t be written anywhere on there.

“I just wanted to say…” your voice is soft but sure as you begin, “I wanted to let you know, how much you all inspire me. It’s kind of scary thinking that this next tournament might be my last one with you, but I’m really confident that you will give it your all - and probably even more - to make sure we keep our time together going.

“Our school banner says to put your heart and soul into each ball, which I think you’ve always done, so that’s all you can ask of yourselves. Be proud, and show off, and maybe we can show the whole country this team that I’m so happy to be a part of. I-I don’t care what happens, but just promise me...that you’ll give it your best?”

Every person in the gym is silent as they listen to you, eyes ironically owlish while you give the first major pep talk of your three year managerial career. If you looked closer, you would have noticed the glassiness of their stares that hinted at oncoming waterworks, some of the boys biting the insides of their cheeks to keep themselves together. You can’t tell if the dead quiet is due to your awkward speech or not, so you attempt to wrap things up.

“Uhm, I’m being pretty cliche right now, so I’ll stop here...” your voice drops off, but it’s hardly noticeable to the guys at this point. The distinct sounds of sniffling reaches your ears, and it’s then when you realize that nearly the entire group appears emotional.

Komi, being one of the more outspoken players on the team, is the first one to truly pipe up, voice uncharacteristically cracking when he asks, “Is it alright to hug?”

Your cheeks grow warm with the question, your own eyes welling up as you choke out a small laugh. “Yeah, go on ahead if you want.”

The entire team engulfs you in a big, emotional, quite sweaty sandwich of a group hug, but you don’t mind the perspiration or the proximity at the moment. The third years were quickest to embrace you, their tears staining Bokuto’s jacket that you still wore - the ace’s own most definitely among them.

“That was so beautiful!” said captain wails, a blubbering mess as he hugs your waist tightly. A number of the boys share a similar emotional state, Sarukui, Anahori, and Komi spouting ‘we love you, manager!’ like it’s the only words they can remember. Akaashi gives you a light squeeze around the shoulders, while simultaneously trying to calm down the bawling squad around him. Even Washio, ever the silent one, has a gentle hand on your back in the mess of an embrace. “Thank you,” is all he says, but the phrase is more than enough to warm your heart further.

When everyone manages to peel away from the group hug eventually, wiping at teary eyes and runny noses, Bokuto takes the reins. He’s got one arm slung across your shoulders, the other one curling his hand into a fist.

“Alright team, let’s give it our best!!” the captain declares, his watery smile paired with the boys’ shaky resounding cry spurring a laugh from your throat.

Overall, a pretty great first pep talk with a pretty darn great team. If you were lucky enough, maybe there might be a few more in your future, but if not, you felt perfectly content with your time spent. From the reaction you got, your boys seemed to agree.

[willow404]

Flora and Fauna Chapter 2

Chapter 2 - First Day of Class

~~~

Your first day at UA started today and you were practically vibrating with excitement. Although, it was a sort of rigid excitement, your nerves started to get the better of you as you rode the train.

You took a few deep breaths and tried to settle down. Your mind kept drifting back to when you received your acceptance letter. You had passed the practical exam with forty combat points and twenty rescue points (something you didn’t think existed). You had been so ecstatic that you’re sure your mom probably heard you squealing.

You had been half-tempted to text Aizawa about it but he probably already knew, and you didn’t really have many friends at your middle school so only your mom was left to fall victim to your rantings. She didn’t seem to mind though, so you talked her ear off with little to no regret.

You took out your phone and plugged in your ear buds. Might as well listen to music in the meantime, right? Wrong. You almost missed your stop because you were zoning out, but luckily someone had nudged you because they noticed your school uniform. Thank god for the kindness in that person’s heart.

As you walked up to the gates of the massive building, you felt your nerves and your excitement fighting for dominance in your chest. Would the classes be difficult? Who’s your homeroom teacher? Was All Might really teaching at U.A. this year? And most importantly… Would you make any friends…?

Only when you walked up to the front doors did you realize how empty the school grounds looked. Did you get here early? Or where you super late…? You looked at your phone and checked the time. Ah… It was 6:30… way too early.

You sighed with annoyance at yourself. You had been so worked up that you had left the house early. Oh well, at least you hadn’t ended up coming to school late.

You pocketed your phone and walked through the school, looking for your class. ‘Class 1-A, was it..?’ Yeah, that was it. You had spent almost the entire night studying and memorizing your schedule.

You slid open the classroom door to find it pretty empty. Aside from yourself, there’s only two other people in the classroom. ‘Guess I’m not the only one who got here early…’

“Good morning!” A guy with blue hair and glasses walked over to you, his arms moving in an almost robotic fashion. “I am Tenya Iida from Somei Private Academy!” He stopped in front of you and held his hand out. “And you are?”

You took his hand and shook it. “I’m Y/n L/n from… a junior high you’ve probably never heard of.”

“Pleasure to meet you, L/n!”

“You too, Iida. Oh, and you can call me Y/n, by the way. I don’t mind. In fact, I actually prefer it.” You retracted your hand from his and rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly. ‘I hope he doesn’t think it’s weird even though we just met…’

“I see… Very well then, Y/n!” And with that, he promptly returned to his seat.

You let out a shaky breath you didn’t know you were holding. That went better than you could’ve hoped, really. 

You walked to the back of the class and took a seat in the back of the class between the window and this guy with two hair colors. He didn’t seem the talkative type so you didn’t bother with introductions and just stared out the window.

More and more students started to trickle in eventually until it was almost time for school to officially start. Everyone was pretty quiet until…

“Excuse me!”

“Hah?”

Iida was up and walking towards the broody looking blonde who had just come in. “I demand that you remove your feet from that desk this instant!”

Oh. So that was the problem. You really couldn’t tell from your spot three seats behind him, not to mention the large ponytail of the girl in front of you was obstructing your view.

The blonde scoffed but Iida pressed forward. “It’s only the first day of class and you’re already scuffing school property! Such an action is insulting to those who came to UA before us-”

“Like I care! Your old school put a stick up your ass? Or were you born with it?” The blonde yelled. You were pretty sure the whole class was watching this conversation. They were the only two talking by now.

Iida stopped and sighed. “Let’s start over.. I’m Tenya Iida from Somei Private Academy-”

“Somei?! So you probably think you’re better than me! I’ll have fun blowing you to bits.” ‘Blow him to bits? Does that have something to do with his quirk?’ You wondered.

Iida gasped. “You would threaten me?! Your own classmate?! Are you sure you’re trying to become a hero?”

“Tch.” The blond pulled his feet down from the desk and set them on the floor. He leaned forward as if to renew the argument with Iida but they both turned towards the door.

“It’s him.” You thought you heard Iida say.

You looked towards the door, as did all the rest of the class, and saw an anxious looking boy with green hair standing there. ‘How long had he been there unnoticed?’

Everyone’s sudden attention probably made him ten times more nervous. “O-Oh..! Uhm-”

Iida started walking up to him, in much the same fashion that he had walked up to you. “I am from Somei Private Academy. My name is-”

The boy held up his hands in front of him. “I-I heard when I came in! Ah...” He lowered his hands and put on a nervous smile. “I’m Izuku Midoriya. It’s nice to meet you Iida.”

“Midoriya… You must be very perceptive. I misjudged you.” Iida stated with a sort of somber confidence.

“What?” Midoriya tilted his head in confusion. ‘Well, this is an awkward conversation to have in front of the whole class on the first day.’

Iida apparently didn’t have the same thought because he continued. “You realized that there was something more to the entrance exam, didn’t you? While I didn’t…” Iida bowed. “I admit, as a student you are superior to me.”

Midoriya looked as confused as you felt. Before Midoriya could speak again, another voice came from behind him. “Oh, that messy hair! Falling boy!” ‘Did she say falling boy?’

Midoriya turned around and the voice continued. “You got in! Present Mic was right! Not that I’m surprised though, that punch was super awesome!”

You guessed that something probably happened between these three during the entrance exam. It didn’t really concern you so you started to just tune them out. Though, you turned your attention towards the door again when you heard a familiar voice.

“If you’re just here to socialize, then you can leave.”

Midoriya and the girl flinched and looked out into the hallway as he continued in a monotone voice. “Welcome to UA’s hero course… Now, it took you eight seconds for you all to stop talking. Time is precious, you’ll need to be more rational.”

‘How lucky am I?’ You thought to yourself, although it was probably the opposite of what everyone else was thinking as there was an awkward silence in the air.

Aizawa sighed. “Hello, I’m Shota Aizawa. Your homeroom teacher.” You heard a few sounds of confusion from your classmates. “Right… let’s get to it.” Aizawa fished out a gym shirt from his sleeping bag. “Change into your track uniforms and meet me in the field.”

-

“A Quirk Assessment test?!” Everyone yelled.

The girl who you had seen greet Midoriya at the door leaned forward. “What about the entrance ceremony?! Or orientation! We’re gonna miss it-”

“You can’t waste time on such leisurely events if you want to become heroes.” Aizawa stated as the girl faltered a bit. “UA is known for its ‘freestyle’ education system. That means that I get to run my class however I see fit.”

You noticed a few of your peers look around at each other nervously. You didn’t blame them.

Aizawa continued, “You kids have been doing these standardized tests most of your lives, right? But you never got to use your quirks in physical exams before.” You perked up at that. ‘Does that mean we get to use our Quirks on these?’

“Bakugou. You got the highest score in the entrance exam. What was your farthest distance throw in junior high?”

“67 meters.” You looked towards the voice. ‘Oh! It’s the guy that was arguing with Iida earlier…’

Aizawa tossed a softball to him. “Then let’s try doing it with your quirk.

Bakugou scoffed but walked up the pitcher’s circle in the field. “Do whatever you need to, just stay in the circle.” Aizawa called to him.

You saw Bakugou mutter something and roll his shoulders. He finally threw the softball with a loud, resounding explosion. “DIE!”

Your mouth was hanging so far open you were you’d catch flies.

Aizawa turned back towards you all, still looking down at the phone he held in his hand. “It’s important for all of you to know your limits. It’s the most rational of figuring out your potential as a hero.” Aizawa turned the phone so you could all see the results of Bakugou’s throw. There was a lot of yelling.

“705 meters?! Seriously?!”

“I wanna try! That looks fun!”

“So we can use our quirks as much as we want! Man, the hero course is great!”

“...so this looks like fun?” Somehow, Aizawa’s monotone voice drowned out all the cheers of excitement. “You have three years here to become heroes… and you think it’s just gonna be fun and games the whole time?” You could feel the tension weighing down on your shoulders. “All right… You’ll be participating in 8 tests today to gauge your potential. Whoever is in last place by the end of the day will be judged to have none, and expelled immediately.”

“WHAAT?!”

Aizawa smiled. “Like I said, I decide how to run my class. Welcome to UA’s hero course!”

~~~

Chapter 1

Tag List

@afuckingunicornn @syanninja @dom-o-wah @multifandomphenomena @xiaolinweretiger @bnhabadass @thecryingsombra @lexy9716 @domena151 @headcans-oneshots-and-stuff @the-dope-hope @bi4anime @smoooore @wonderlace19 @cloudy-yoongi @erissapphire @theunguidedmissile @ce1estia1sky

[tarlos911ls]

So. I wrote another thing.

Fandom: tarlos. 911ls

Words: 1,6k

Summary: Tk gets choked.

I wrote this bc i saw someone say they wanted to see tk get choked. This is NOT blatantly smut. That will come in part two probably tomorrow. It’s 6 am when i wrote this im sorry for spelling mistakes no beta. this is just me testing the waters bc i have never published smut. go easy on me

Ao3

“I need you to teach me to cook, Carlos” Tk Slumped back on the couch with a content sigh having just eaten one of Carlos’s home cooked meals. He could never turn down a Dinner invitation especially when Carlos was cooking. 

“Oh that can easily be arranged, Amor.” Carlos smiled as he walked over to the couch leaving the dishes on the table to be cleaned later. Right now he had more pressing matters. Those matters being, cuddling with Tk on the couch. He let out a heavy sigh as he plopped down next to Tk on the couch stretching his limbs out with a groan.

“Long day?” Tk asked turning his body to face Carlos leaning an elbow against the back of the couch as he held his head up with the palm of his hand. Carlos hummed in response, turning to smile at Tk. 

“It wasn’t that terrible but i went a little too hard at the gym today so i'm a little sore.” 

“ Ahh I see.” Tk slowly nodded “ That makes sense you're trying to catch up to me.” Tk teased as he flexed his muscles with a playful smile. Obviously both men were physically fit but it was no question that Carlos was bulkier. 

“Excuse me, Mr strand?” Carlos’s jaw dropped and his eyebrows raised in faux shock at Tk’s comment. “What are you implying?”

“Oh you know. That I'm stronger than you, bulkier, more assertive, more dominant than you. Obviously I am running the show here!” Carlos scoffed at Tk’s comments. Carlos quickly grabbed Tk’s legs and yanked him into a lying position on the couch moving to hover over him in attempts to wipe that smirk off of Tk’s face. 

“You think you are more dominant than me?” out of all the things that Tk claimed to be, dominant was the one that Carlos decided to single in on. Tk’s smirk grew more mischievous as he found more buttons of Carlos’s to push. The older male narrowed his eyes sizing up the man below him as he thought about his next move. 

“Hmmm. If you are so dominant.. What would you do if I just..” Carlos’s hand snaked up Tk’s body and grabbed his throat. Tk let out a sharp gasp as soon as he felt Carlos's strong hand against his throat for the first time. He let his eyes roll back in his head before he realized what was happening. 

“Please” Tk let out an involuntary whimper no louder than a soft whisper. Tk’s eyes widened as he quickly pushed the hand away.Wiggling out from under Carlos, he hurried to the kitchen in attempts to busy himself. It would have been easy to slip into a full submissive roll for the man if he let himself. But the idea of showing Carlos that side of him was a bit intimdating 

“ I’m gonna clean up the dishes!” He said a bit too hastily. 

“Uhm.. what was that?” Carlos asked stunned into his spot on the couch only turning his head to watch tk walk away. Tk began clearing the dinner dishes off of the table, scraping off what was left in the trash and piling the dishes into the sink.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He mumbled casually like he didn’t just beg Carlos to choke him. Tk took a deep breath keeping his back to Carlos as he began vigorously washing the dishes. A smirk grew on Carlos's lips as he slowly sauntered over to the kitchen taking his time to take in Tk from behind. From The way those black jeans accentuated his full thighs up to the way his dress shirt hugged his perfectly toned back. Carlos’s tongue fell from his mouth licking at his lips almost hungrily as he stepped up behind Tk close enough for the shorter man to feel Carlos's breath against his neck. Tk bit his lower lip as he felt a hand snake up over his hip and around his waist pulling him back roughly so his ass was pressed up snuggly against Carlos’s groin. 

“Do you like being choked, Tyler Kennedy?” Carlos leaned in closer whispered right behind his ear. He kept his voice low, his excitement adding a bit of raspiness to his tone. The question sent a shiver down Tk’s, back dropping a plate in the sink as he grabbed for the counters ledge in attempts to steady himself. Carlos kept a tight hold of the man as he felt him wobble. Tk turned his head towards Carlos slightly keeping his gaze cast downward as he placed his free hand on top of Carlos’s on his waist. 

“I asked you a question?” Carlos took the opportunity to try out being more assertive with the younger male grabbing at the waistband of his pants turning him around quickly. He leaned him up against the counters ledge but kept his own footing so their chest pressed firmly together trapping tk there. Tk let out another sharp gasp, his eyes now staring up at Carlos. Instead of being shy about it like before he decided to face it head on fighting fire with fire. He wasn’t going to submit to Carlos that easily.

“Maybe. What does it matter to you?.” Tk shrugged leaning away just enough to cross his arms over his chest tilting his head to the side like he was squaring up to carlos. The question only fueled Carlos further. He knew Tk had a little bit of brat in him. He could have told anyone that from day one but getting to explore this side of him now was exhilarating. 

“Oh that’s how it’s gonna be huh?” Carlos asked, raising his eyebrows. Tk only smiled mockingly pushing all of Carlos's buttons. The pair stared at each other for a moment before Carlos took the opportunity to reach up and wrap his hand around Tks throat again. He kept the touch light at first only barely pressing his fingertips into his skin wanting to watch the expression on Tks face. Tk tried his best to seem unfazed, like this wasn’t driving him absolutely insane. Something deep inside of him was pleading to just drop the act and beg carlos to grab him tighter and fuck him until the only thing he could remmeber was Carlos’s name. But he fought it. Instead he held Carlos’s gaze as a smirk played on his lips. 

“Is that all you’ve got, Officer?’ Without any hesitation Carlos slid one of his legs between Tk’s thighs and pressed his own thigh up against Tk’s clothed dick already feeling him plump up in his jeans. 

“ Hmm.” Carlos hummed easily as his hand tightened around Tk’s throat. “Seems to me that you are already enjoying yourself, Tiger.” Carlos didn’t dare look away from Tk’s face watching as his eyes began to gloss over. He could feel the way Tk began to slump into his arms. He watched the way Tk’s tongue darted out licking over his lips as his head rolled back and his eyelids fluttered slightly. 

“ Fuck..” Tk mumbled under his breath as a soft moan rolled out of his mouth. His hands grabbed Carlos's sides tightly gripping his shirt until his knuckles turned white. Tk forced his eyes open to look up at Carlos trying to stay more alert. He still wanted to fight and give Carlos a run for his money but that little submissive part of him was slowly winning. 

“Now.” Carlos said again cocking his head to the side pressing his thigh against tk again. “I asked you a question. Do you like being choked, Tyler Kennedy?” Carlos used his full name again hoping it would give him an advantage over the other male.

“Yes.” The word slipped out involuntarily before Tk could even fully process the question. He moved a hand from Carlos’s shirt to the wrist of the hand that was again tightening around his throat. He dug his fingers into Carlos’s skin as he let out a drawn out whimper. 

“Say it.” Carlos ordered.

“Yes. Yes I like being choked.” Carlos took in a sharp breath in attempts to keep his composure. He liked being this authoritative figure that could get Tk to buckle under a strong hand and a stern voice. Carlos didn’t want tk to see how badly this was affecting him, how tk could easily get Carlos to do anything he pleased if he asked him in that breathy little voice of his accompanied by those pretty whines. Not yet anyways. 

“Tell me what you want, Tiger.” 

“Want..” Tk took in a deep breath and let it go slowly as his eyes rolled back into his head again not able to fight his need any longer. 

“ Look at me when you speak.” Tk let out a whimper at carlos’s words forcing his eyes open, purposefully batting his lashes as he looked up at carlos. Despite Carlos wanting it too seem like he was cool, calm, and collected, Tk could feel the way he grew harder against his thigh by the minute. Tk could see the beads of sweat forming at Carlos’s hairline. He was just as worked up as Tk was, going just as crazy. If Carlos was going to do this to him, Tk could throw it right back at him. He stood up a little straighter and stared Carlos down as he spoke with confidence. 

“Want you to fuck me while youre hand is around my throat, Papi. ” Tk smirked feeling Carlos's reaction with the sudden burst of tightness around his throat. 

“Bedroom. Now!” Carlos practically growled. Tk definitely wasn’t going to argue with that. 

[wolferals]

audition

Arón Piper imagine

*

saturday, january 18th 11:22pm • Today was Monday, August 22nd and all I've seen since 8am were wannabe actors reading their stupid lines to us pretending they were fucking Johnny Depp himself. God I was so sick of it, but since I've been grounded my dad made me cast people for this movie he was going to direct. Why were you grounded, you may ask. Well let's say, we just moved to Madrid basically to the end of the world since I grew up in America all my life. Yeah, my first days of school didnt really turn out to be super great, my english teacher was super racist in my opinion. She kept making „jokes" about my country/ and at some point i just snapped and told her how she dared to be so fucking racist. My class agreed with me yet my teacher didnt and put me in detention first and then called my dad. So yeah, thats why he's making me do this.

Some might think, its not a punishment to cast people for a „super cool movie" but have u ever been in a all white room for 10 hours listening to the same sentences over and over, being read by the worst people ever? No, exactly.

Its been exactly 4 hours now, its been around 12 when we decided to take a short break to get some food. I walked around the building for a while, grabbed a iced coffee at the bar and then sat down on a couch in the foyer to immediately text my friends from back home about how horrible i was feeling.

I didnt even get to text 5 words until my dad came around the corner saying something like:"Y/n, lets go. The people wont cast themselves. I mean they'd love to but that's our job." He then laughed loudly and almost couldnt stop. One thing about my dad: He thinks he's hilarious but in my opinion he's a little too full of himself. No offense, i love him of course.

Therefore I walked back to the cruel looking white room and sat down on my chair sipping my iced coffee. „Alright, next up, we have a Joshua Hamilton reading for the part of Jamey." I rolled my eyes. Yet again another Jamey. Ive heard the line:"No way Daniel, are you insane?! Have you even thought about the fact that you could get fucking killed?" about 50 times today.

And to be honest, the only person i'd like to get killed right now would be myself.

„Hello, my name is Joshua Hamilton, I'm 22 years old and I'll be reading for the part of Jamey." The tall, skinny looking guy then spoke after *extremely happy looking* entered the room. Well no offense but super happy people make me puke.

He then read his lines, horribly. He was just too enthusiastic and grinning through the entire thing. It was supposed to be a mad Jamey yelling at his brother who was about to attack his ex girlfriend's killer.

Dad then told him, they will call him. But lets be honest here, obviously they wont. • Alright so another 4 hours passed and we had almost all important characters casted, except Jamey. The crew was getting impatient and we were all super tired. „Dad how many are left?" I then asked because I wanted nothing more than this to end. „26." he answered, sounding annoyed. So was I. „Jeez, for fucks sake." I exclaimed and leaned back in my chair. „Y/n, watch your language!" He scoffed and took a sip of his water before leaning back as well.

„Okay next off we have a Arón Piper. He is Spanish-German, which wouldnt quite match with the way we pictured Jamey. But lets get the guy, kay?" Evan, the producer spoke after reading some reviews.

„Mhm." my Dad hummed. He seemed extremely tired and messed up to be fair.

As I said, I was annoyed and super damn hungry but the second this guy walked in, all my senses were on and I couldnt help but stare at him. He was tall, had curly hair, an earring on his left ear, chocolate brown eyes and a smile that could kill. „Hola,, I'm Arón." My dad seemed to like him too because he sat up straight scanning him up and down. „How old are you Arón?" Lucy, the executive producer asked him, smiling as well. „I'm 23." The handsome guy answered calm and sent me his billion dollar smile.

fuck • I smiled back and for whatever fucking reason I just said:"You must be working out, am I right?" Everyone looked at me but I didnt care, I just looked him right in the eyes and saw him laugh. „Y/n what the hell?" My dad whispered sounding pissed yet confused. „Jamey is a fit dude, he goes to the gym 6 times a week. We have to consider the fact that the actor has to be healthy and all as well." I tried to get out of the weird situation but actually I was just wishing for him to take off his shirt to show us -okay, me- his amazing abs I bet he had. „Uhm to be honest, I just dance, thats it. But you could call that a work out since Ive been doing it since I was 7 years old."

The others seemed impressed too, so Lucy cockily said:"So if acting wouldnt work, youd become a professional dancer?" Arón laughed again and answered:"Yeah, probably. But i havent even read my lines yet."

The entire time he was acting his lines, I was just staring at his god like face, every emotion, every move, every little change in his body language was perfect. My dad looked like he was impressed too and he then, after Arón had finished, spoke:"Thank you, Arón. That was amazing!" He smiled happily and answered fully paying attention:"Oh gracias, it means so much coming from you!" He walked up to my dad to shake his hand and then took back his portfolio. „Honey what do you think? Should we put him in round 2?" I looked over to my dad, took a glance at Arón who was smiling cutely at me. „Nah."

Everyone gave me a confused look and in Arón´s eyes I could see pure fear.

„I think we should give him the part.“

My dad smiled, nodded at me and then spoke:“Alright, Arón Piper, congratulations.“

Arón walked over to me and stuck his hand out for me to shake it. I slowly took his hand and, okay that might sound weird, but it felt so damn good to touch him. God I sound like a creep. No but for real his hand was a lot bigger than mine and really warm compared to my -always cold- claws. „Gracias." he said quietly and stared directly into my eyes while smiling. I wanted to say something like:"Of course, you deserve it, you were amazing." but i just couldnt, i wasnt able to look anywhere but into his beautiful brown eyes.

My dad saw that and cleared his throat loudly. „Thank you again Arón, we will call you next week for further information. But for now, since Jamey is the main male protagonist and we will be filming most of the scenes with you, we'd like to invite you and the other main actors to a dinner party tomorrow night. We hope you're free and we would text you further dates later on today."

-„Yes I'm free, that'd be amazing! Thank you so much! See you tomorrow then, bye guys." He grabbed his jacket from off the floor and left the room smiling brightly.

-„We've got it! We found, first of all the perfect Jamey, and we finally have all the actors, people!" Lucy shouted and sighed relieved. „Alright then, lets celebrate!" My dad exclaimed happily and the others stood up after him. „I'll be right out, I'll go to the bathroom real quick." I informed the guys and just simply hit the bathroom next to the audition room. When i checked back to see if the room had been locked, I noticed that a portfolio book was left on the table. I grabbed it, opened it and and noticed it was Arón's.

Right, he grabbed it before, then shook our hands and put it down again. Then he walked out without it.

So I quickly locked the door and ran through the building, past my dad saying:"Be right back." I figured, Arón couldnt have gotten very far, so I sprinted down the stairs, out of the front door of the building and i looked around if I might spot him. I then saw a guy that looked like him walking down the street towards a silver car and i ran as fast as i could to reach him.

„Arón!" I yelled and stopped once I finally reached him. „Yeah?" he was about to get in the car but turned around. „You forgot that." I passed him his book and tried to catch my breath real quick. „Oh god, thank you! I totally forgot about that. Gracias." He took it smiling.

While I was trying to breath, he opened the car door and said:"Just a second." Me, still dying from all the running, I was now leaning against a wall. „You okay?" -„Huh? Yeah. Im.. good." I was kind of embarrassed at how unathletic i was. „U sure?" he came closer and looked actually quite concerned. „Ya dont worry. Uhm.. See you.. tomorrow..at the.. party?" i tried to play it off and stood straight again Arón smiled again and answered:"Of course. Cant wait!" He then walked back to the car and sent me another smile before getting in.

Damn, this guy.

[oftattoosandflowers-blog]

The Bro Code

dongsaeng!yugyeom, unviersity!au, bff!yugkook

-----

Prompts: “Who’s texting you?”  “Umm. nobody.”

-----

Summary:  A scenario where Yugyeom confesses to his best friend Jungkook that he harbors a crush for you; Jungkook's older sister.

--

"I would die for a cup of frappuccino right now but I don't think it's worth the extra routines I have to suffer at the gym later." Jungkook says as he studies the cafe menu seriously like his life depended on it. 

"What are you getting?" he asks Yugyeom.

He glances at Yugyeom when he still didn't answer and found that his best friend was busy looking at his damn phone. "Dude, you there?"

"Huh?" 

Yugyeom finally looks up from his phone as if he was caught redhanded doing something illegal. 

"Who are you texting?" Jungkook inquires and Yugyeom hurriedly hides his phone.

"Uhm, no one." 

Jungkook raises and eyebrow. They had been best friends for three years now and he could definitely sense that Yugyeom was hiding something from him. But seeing that they were already next in line to the counter, he brushed it aside.

"What are you ordering?" He asks instead.

"Iced choco." Yugyeom answers in a heartbeat. 

"Right." Jungkook doesn't even know why he bothered asking. He never changed his order. Ever.

Jungkook told the cashier their order when it was their turn while Yugyeom handed his card. He doesn't know how it was so easy to get a free drink from Yugyeom now but Jungkook wasn't one to complain. 

Their drinks were handed to them in a jiffy and Jungkook tried to find an available table while Yugyeom was once again busy with his phone. 

"I can't believe Bambam's running late again." Jungkook tried to strike a casual conversation but the guy in front of him obviously had his whole attention to his phone.

Yugyeom was humming in response but it was obvious that he wasn't paying attention. 

"Why does he even wanna come with us? It's not like he really works out. He's just checking out the girls at the gym." 

"Ahuh." Yugyeom hums again as he sips on his iced choco, but his eyes were still on his phone.

Jungkook coughed and decided to make fun of Yugyeom a little. 

"Hey dude, do you think I can borrow your Audi for a week starting today?" 

"Yeah sure." Yugyeom absentmindedly answers but then snaps back to reality. "Wait, what?" 

Jungkook laughs at his friend's flustered face. "C'mon, man. 'Fess up." 

Yugyeom just looked at him questioningly. "You're texting a girl, right? Who's that? Is that someone from our dance class?" Jungkook bombards him with questions and Yugyeom felt cold sweat run down his back. 

"I just figured that your probably texting a girl if you're that worked up." Jungkook shrugs then sips at his drink.

Yugyeom does the same as he thinks whether he should come clean to his best friend. 

He knows he should, but he just doesn't know how to tell him.

"Well... uhm..." Yugyeom scratches his head as he raked his brain for ways on how to say what he was going to say. 

"You see..." 

Jungkook just stares at him. The two had been friends since their first day in university when some professor mixed up their names. The professor said it was because the two had similarities so in order to avoid confusion, he asked Jungkook and Yugyeom to sit beside each other in class. It had been three years since then. They know each other so well and Jungkook could say that this is the first time he saw Yugyeom this flustered.

"What is it?" Jungkook coaxed his friend. 

Yugyeom closes his eyes tightly and sighs before looking at him directly. "I'm just gonna come clean okay?" 

"O...kay." Jungkook was finding it hard to answer since he didn't know what the conversation was about.

"I'm going to tell you something and I know you're gonna probably want to hit me, but please don't. You give the fucking strongest punch and dude, I am not in the mood to sport a blackeye in school. Okay?" 

"What are you even talking about?" Jungkook was beyond confused now.

"Just promise me!" Yugyeom whines. 

"Alright, jeez! I'm not gonna hit you. Now what is it?" 

Yugyeom sighs again and pulls his hair frustratingly. They're not in the gym yet but he's already sweating buckets. 

"I..." Yugyeom starts and Jungkook waits for the rest of his sentence. "I have a crush on y/n noona and I want to ask her out on a date." 

Jungkook accidentaly spits his drink out of his mouth from what Yugyeom said. Thankfully the liquid didn't land on Yugyeom's face.

"Am I hearing you right? I think I might be having some hallucinations. I thought I just heard you say that you have a crush on my sister." Jungkook asks in confusion.

Yugyeom scratches his head again. "Uhm, you're not hallucinating." 

It took a few seconds before Jungkook could process it. His best friend had a crush on his older sister and wanted to ask her out on a date. 

"Dude, what the fuck." Jungkook finally blurts out when his thought process was over.

Yugyeom looks down to his lap upon his best friend's reaction. Of course it was a long shot. 

He knew it would be hard to get Jungkook's approval. Yugyeom knows how protective Jungkook could get when it came to his siblings. Even though he was tempted to ask you out secretly, he just knew it would be the end of their friendship uf Jungkook found out he was doing it behind his back. 

"I don't know what to say. What do you want me to say?" Jungkook continues when he was met by Yugyeom's silence. 

"How the fuck did you even have a crush on noona? She's barely home when you crash at our place."

Jungkook can't fit the puzzle together of how his sister and best friend got to start talking. Enough so for Yugyeom to harbor a crush on her. 

"Well remember that one time I drove you home a few months ago because you got shitfaced after drinking during Bambam's party. Hobi-hyung wasn't there so I was forced to carry you to your room. Y/n noona offered to give me some tea before I left so that I can also sober up. You were heavy as fuck man, I really had a hard time. So anyway, we got talking and she praised my tattoos. Then she texted me asking about tattoos and shit since she apparently wanted to get one. We started texting regularly after that."

Yugyeom blurts fast as if he was a rapper in Show Me The Money and Jungkook almost didn't understand Yugyeom if it weren't for a few key words he caught from his sentences.

Jungkook's jaw dropped at his confesion. What was he even supposed to say?

"So..." Yugyeom continues, looking at him expectantly.

"What?" 

"Is it okay if I ask her out on a date?" 

Jungkook blinks at Yugyeom's question. 

"I don't know dude." Jungkook scratches his head as he tried to think of possible scenarios if his best friend does start dating his sister.

He knows Yugyeom doesn't mess around with girls and that his last relationship was way back when they were in their first year in university but then.. it's his sister. There is still a possibility that Yugyeom could hurt her. Jungkook and Hobi had always been protective of her to the point that she gets annoyed because they always intimidate any prospect boyfriend she has on purpose. Even if this was his friend, there was no guarantee that he wouldn't punch Yugyeom if she sheds a single tear for him.

Jungkook sighs. "My mind's not working properly. I just have this itching feeling that I have to hit you right now."

Yugyeom gulped. 

"Well..." he scratches the back of his neck again. Why was it getting hot in this cafe? "will you let me ask her out after you hit me in the face then?" 

Jungkook gave him his what-the-fuck look. Was he seriously considering getting hit just so he could date his sister?

"Are you even sure she's gonna say yes?" Jungkook challenged. 

"No." Yugyeom blushes. "I mean, I hope she'll say yes. She said I was fun to talk to." 

Jungkook scoffs. "Noona says that to everyone." 

"Yah, stop trying to ruin my confidence." Yugyeom whines again.

Jungkook rolls his eyes and sits straight. "Okay, let's say you do go out with her and it turns to something serious. What if you break up then? Wouldn't it be awkward to hang out with us after that?" 

"Dude, you're flying too fast." Yugyeom counters. "I'm not saying that I'm not looking forward to having a serious relationship with noona. It sounds cheesy and cringy but I guarantee you I'll do my best not to make your sister cry." 

"What if she makes you cry?" Jungkook asks again. 

Yugyeom looks down. It's not like he hasn't given this a thought. He really thought hard before even mustering up the courage to ask Jungkook about this.  He looks up so that Jungkook could see how serious he is. "I don't know man. But it's a risk I'm willing to take." 

Jungkook shivers. Looks like Yugyeom is really damn serious about this. "Alright let's stop talking about this. The thought of you dating my sister is making me want to curl my toes but I guess I'll have to get used to it." 

Yugyeom's eyes almost bulged out and he smiles. "Is that a yes?" 

"Stop looking at me like I'm the one you asked for a date. It's creepy. But just one thing."

Jungkook leans forward and looks at him squarely. "Don't hurt my sister on purpose. You have a cute nose Yugyeom-ah, don’t make me break it.”

Yugyeom shivers at his threat. "Y-yeah. Thanks dude." He offers his hand for a high five and Jungkook accepts it. "I'm gonna ask her tomorrow. Wish me luck."

Jungkook nods. It's not like this is over. Yugyeom still needs to go through his Hobi-hyung. 

"Yo! Where my bitches at!" The two boys whips their head at the same time to see Bambam embarassing himself at the cafe. 

He walks straight to them wearing his matching Adidas tracksuit. He could have passed off as someone going to the gym if not for the gold necklace and diamond studded watch he was wearing.

"Where have you been? Hanging out with Snoop Dogg?" Jungkook asks in iritation.

"Dudes, you are not gonna believe what I just went through today." Bambam plops down beside Yugyeom and grabs Jungkook's drink to take a sip. 

"Really man? Here I thought you hated using other people's straws."

"Give me a break man. I just came from this Adidas store because they were selling these new Yeezy kicks. And guess what? I just arrived on time. It was the last pair and it was on my size. And I already grabbed it but then some dude grabbed the other shoe. I was all 'dude what the fuck is your problem?' I almost punched him in the face even if he was ten times bigger than me. But luckily it wasn't his size so I ended up buying it." Bambam blabbered while the two boys looked at him with bored eyes. 

"Fun story right?" He smiles wide. "Anyway, what did I miss?" 

"I'm asking out his sister on a date." Yugyeom blurts out fast and points at Jungkook. 

"Oh." Bambam nods. "You're gonna ask his s--WHAT? Did I just hear it correctly?!" 

Jungkook rolled his eyes as Bambam overreacts, even going as far as clutching his chest in surprise. "Dude! You okay with this?" He asks Jungkook. Jungkook simply stares at Bambam.

"What if they do get together and then they have sex in your house? Wouldn't it be awkward--" 

"Stop it man!" Jungkook freaks out. "I didn't need that fucking image in my mind!" he tries to cover his ears in an attempt to unhear Bambam's remark.  Yugyeom was blushing hard and was just covering his face in embarassment.

"Hey, I'm just concerned here! You should set some house rules or something like no sexing while the siblings are in the house or--"

"SHUT UP BAMBAM!" Both Yugyeom and Jungkook yell before they got up and left their friend. He knew the way to the gym anyway.

--

I’m on AFF too! https://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/1451679/the-bro-code

[sian22redux]

Field of Dreams

Part 2 of 2.  Y/N has a surprise for Steve when he worries about the fallout from their spat.  Fury and the Avengers just might, might, also be involved. ^_^

A little baseball history, one huge surprise, and a spark that begins to flame.

Rating: G. Steve Rogers x Reader. 

@nomadicpixel‘s winning fic from my Cleveland’s loss to Boston.  As usual it isn’t short (what moi?) but was such fun to write.  I know waaaaay too much about the ‘Trolley Dodgers’ now.   Enjoy!

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

“Still can’t talk to women.”

Bucky shakes his head, reaches across Natasha’s yogurt and Clint’s pancakes with his metal hand to snag the very last strawberry while Steve sits and glowers at the morning’s feed.

It’s humbling.  Frustrating and embarrassing all at once, but unfortunately the straight up truth.  He can’t talk to women and the evidence stares up from his Starkpad.  Y/N’s elegant brows crashed together, his own mouth set in a line below the blaring headline:  ‘Unfriendly Rivalry?’  

“Tell me something I don’t know,” he mumbles dejectedly, running a hand through his still-damp blond mop. The past three days of coverage have been appalling.  Blogs and pundits shredding Fleur and Y/N for speaking out.  Blaming her for the entire stupid mess.   Branding her as some sort of Feminazi for daring to argue with America’s Hero.

It’s so unfair.  Misogynistic and unbalanced and sticks in his craw because the truth is he is the one who is in the wrong.

He shifts awkwardly in his seat “How did we go south so fast? I apologized for the tweet. She was gracious and understanding and I just…”

“Couldn’t let go of something you see as wrong?”  

The whole table bursts out laughing. Sam’s throaty chuckle echoes.   Bucky’s head back guffaw trails up towards the ceiling.  Clint looks like he might pop the latest stitches in his gut while Bruce reaches for a napkin to wipe his streaming eyes.  

Thanks. Thanks guys.

Nat smothers her own knowing smirk in a dainty coffee cup while he groans and tries to hide his head in his hands.  Point to the assassin who always goes straight to the jugular.  He knows the whole thing is pointless but games at Ebbets Field with Bucky were some of his fondest memories from before the war.  It rubbed him wrong.  Got his back up and heck he should have known to back down from the edge but that doesn’t mean that he always can.

“I am an Idiot.”

”Confirm!!”  

“Tony!”  

“If the suit fits, Cap. Morning all.” Starks’s CEO saunters in and swipes a piece of toast from Bucky’s grip,  flips a chair back to front and casually sits astride.   Their chief needler is dressed for corporate battle in a Givenchy three piece suit.    He ignores the protest of ‘Hey!’ and wolfs his purloined breakfast down.

“Snooze you lose, Winter.  Head on a swivel.”  He grins in the face of Bucky’s glare as Bruce, ever the peace-maker, sets another piece on Bucky’s plate.  “Not that I think Miss Y/N will be too upset by the result.  There is no such thing as bad press in this biz.”  

“Not upset?!”  Steve’s jaw hits his knees.  “Even the Post and Times have carried it on page 3!”

“Exactly.”  Tony points with an absently filled coffee cup. “Headline coverage is headline coverage. The whole country is talking about it. The assholes who told her to get out of the boardroom will drive up her sales in sympathy.”    

Steve bites his lip.  “Really?”  

“Yup.  They’ll get a nice bounce out of this and probably a few million follows.  Wish I’d thought of it.”

From somewhere above Clint’s purple arrow mug there is a strangled snort. “You, publically picking an argument?  That’s not news, that’s an everyday occurrence.”

“Sure thing, Birdbrain. At least I….”  

“Guys.  Guys.” Steve puts up his hands.  The morning’s habitual serving of trash talk is giving him a headache.  He rubs his temple and tries to think this through.  Should he make some sort of statement?  Tweet out an apology? Would flowers and a note be more personal or should he assume she wants nothing to do with him in this universe or next?

That last thought makes the bright sunny day feel like a wall of cloud’s rolled in, but who is he kidding?  

Expressing himself had gotten him into this mess.  The last thing he wants is to make it even worse.  

“What should I do?”

The table falls uncharacteristically quiet.  Sam claps him on the shoulder as he rises and takes his dirty dishes to the sink. Bruce mumbles something about ‘relays’, following Clint’s retreating back.  Bucky, the traitor, puts his metal hand out as if to say, ‘don’t look at me. you’re on your own pal.’  

The only two left in support are pointedly ignoring him.  Tony and Natasha hover over their Starkphones, avoiding his pleading gaze until, suddenly, Natasha’s ‘pulls’ up a page to float, glowing blue, above the jam.      

“I think it’s been decided for you.”

Steve blinks, quickly scans the hologram of the New York Times fifth page while Tony whistles low. “Brilliant. They’re freaking brilliant. I’d like to poach their PR rep.”  

Natasha thumps him on the arm. “Tony. Focus.”

“Just kidding.  Ah, not actually.  But I will send a few tens of million their way.  Jarvis?”

<Sir, it is already done>

“Excellent.”

While Tony texts Pepper excitedly with this news, Steve, slack-jawed, reads the page size Invitation in detail.  

It is blue on white, stamped with the Dodgers official logo and signed with the sort of flourish gained only from practicing calligraphy.

Natasha’s smiling so wide he can see her pointy teeth.   Tony is grinning from ear to ear.  And Bucky, Bucky is trying to hide a tear.  

“Every boy’s goddam dream Stevie,” he says, “She’s got class.  Class and guts.”

That she does.  But holy hell.  Him play in a game? He’s so rusty a swimming pool of oil couldn’t help. Besides, when the Avengers have some downtime they more often kick a soccer ball around.  Sure he’s thrown out ceremonial first pitches since coming out of the ice, but the last time he’d hit he could barely connect the ball and bat.  Now?  Serum’d up?  Would he explode the ball like Randy Johnson did a bird?  Would it leave orbit and be a danger to traffic on Elysian Ave?  He’d have to dial it down.  Check his swing somehow.  It’s worrying, but the sweet reality of jogging freely around the bases without wheezing or coughing up a lung hits home.  

Wow.  It would be fun.  You never forget the smell of popcorn and hotdogs and chalk and…..

A little anxiety starts to set in. “I haven’t played in seventy-seven years.”  

“Seventy-nine,” quips Buck. “High school gym class.  You bunted and Mickey Ryan got to pinch run.” His best friend shakes his head and reaches for his phone, pulls up the Dodgers’ message app.   “You’re going man.  And we are going with you.”

Steve blushes.  Gives in to reality.  Yes he’s going.   And inside--in his heart of hearts--- he’s looking forward to seeing Y/N too.

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

July 1st..

“Good morning Captain Rogers. Welcome to Dodger Stadium.”  

“Good morning Miss Archer,” Steve shakes hands with Fleur’s Press Secretary, stands uncertainly on the pavement outside the Player’s entrance.  It’s warm and not too windy, perfect playing weather, but already he has a little trickle of sweat down his back.  Astride the doors is the welcoming committee: the team’s Clubhouse manager, assorted assistants and one extremely starry-eyed ball boy.  He shakes hands and greets them all, tryies not to notice the crescendo of clicking automatic flash.  

The press hounds gathered in a less welcome contingent are making him nervous to say anything.

“Please call me Stephanie,” says the fresh-faced young woman in Dodger blue holding the days jam packed schedule. “I am helping LA today.  And don’t mind them Captain.  They aren’t allowed in the locker room.” She points a stylus toward to the blue tinted glass doors. “Come into the club house and we can get you suited up.”

Steve follows the ticking of her high heels into a hushed and new smelling corridor and then through one-way glass doors to arrive in a brightly lit but utterly unmodern room.

“What the?”

He stands speechless; stock still in the open central space, and his mouth is open and catching flies.

The LA locker room has been transformed.  Instead of high tech monitors and computer feeds and OLED TVs, the room is hung with old style Dodger pennants.  Pictures of 40’s Brooklyn.  Advertisements for the ‘Subway Series’; the  ’41 and ’47 World Series played by two New York teams: the Yankees and his ‘Dem Bums’. The lockers are mostly empty, a few hung with wooden hangers and old-style jerseys, baggy knickers and long blue socks.  Before each cubbie is a wooden stool.  And on the few laden shelves are blue caps and helmets with the familiar ‘B’.

Exactly as the Brooklyn clubhouse would have been almost 80 years ago.  

“We thought this might be your size,” says Stephanie, leading him by the elbow to a spot with pride of place beside the onfield door.  The white cotton of the home uniform is soft, stitched with exactly the swooping letters of yesteryear and about two size larger any other that he’s seen.  

“You did this…?”  

She nods and smiles as he gingerly takes the deep blue helmet down. “The whole team and management. I know Brooklyn didn’t used to wear helmets back in your day but the League insisted.  This is a regulation game and the bats are rather stronger now.”  

And so am I, Steve thinks, settling the heavy plastic down over his head.  It’s snug, fits so exactly he suspects Tony has been involved.  Only the cheek-guard feels odd.  He rolls his neck a little, trying to get a feel of the slightly lop-sided weight.

“Miss Y/N figured you are used to wearing helmets.”

“Yeah,“ he blushes, looking down and amazed to find a familiar pair of dark all leather cleats.  “Do you do this every year?”

Stephanie’s lips twitch as she barely conceals a grin. “No sir.  Just this one.”

All this for him?   Incredible.  Steve’s throat closes up.  “Uh.. uhm.  Thank you.”  

“Don’t thank me,” the blond ponytail gives a shake, “thank Miss Y/N. It was her idea.   I’ll leave you to dress and then you can exit through that door and meet her at the gate.”

Soon enough, Steve is left to dress all by himself.  He shrugs out of his shirt and chinos, pulls on the kit and fumbles with the knickers’ blue belt and loops.  What a time for butterflies.  He’s nervous, he really is, caught between wanting to help a team and just take in the wonder of it.  There’s a number 41 on the jersey’s back--Harry Taylor’s number musn’t be retired.   Will they play him in left field like the big Irish slugger?  If he was coach he would.  Steve doesn’t know the plays, the cutoff points, or the signs.  

He finishes tying the (perfectly fitting) cleats and stuffs white batting gloves into his back pocket feeling mostly set.  A quick few strides takes him through the home team tunnel.  It’s weird-there’s no one hanging round, no one snapping pics or asking for photographs.  He hustles a little more and then stops short just where the sunny square of outside light blinds him momentarily.

The clubhouse was a dream but this is something else.

Dodger stadium is dressed up like Ebbets Field.  Low swagged banners for advertisements on the bleachers.  Vendors in vintage dress.   Pennants for a World Series win in1955 and six for National League championships.  An organ’s live music is playing over the speakers and not a recording system.     

And on the first and third base lines the ‘home’ and ‘visiting’ teams are all lined up.  Twenty-five guys in Brooklyn white and blue, twenty-five in LA grey.  Some of the current team and veterans of many ages.

They stand at attention with caps over their hearts.

Wow.  

“Number 41, playing for Brooklyn, Steve Rogers!!”

The announcer’s words are drowned by the roar of the swelling crowd.   Steve starts forward, intending to take his place at the end of the home team line, but he makes it only to near home plate before his feet become glued again.  The audience is on its feet.  Stamping.  Shouting. Cheering on not Captain America but a man who’s had this dream.

Forever.  

It can’t be real.  It can’t, but he looks up to the owner’s box and there are the Avengers assembled in Brooklyn Blue.  Whistling and clapping.  Waving flags of oldtime Dodger blue just like the crowd.  As thrilled for him as he is.

He doffs his cap and turns around, slowly, carefully; waving it to acknowledge the entire park.      

“Captain? Steve?”

He shakes himself out of a daze and turns to look down at Miss Y/N who stands just at his elbow. She is smiling, pretty and perfect in a Brooklyn ball cap and summery light dress.  Her long dark hair is glossy and flowing down her back and incongruously he wants to tuck away a stray strand that floats in the wind.  

“Fine Miss.  Just shocked.  Amazed.”  His tongue can’t manage anymore.  His heart is pounding and his chest is tight and he know it isn’t asthma but isn’t sure quite what. A hearattack? Impossible?  Anxiety? No, he’s happy not upset.  Happiness?!  Most likely. It seems to be that her hand is warm on his. 

She’s moving to pull him over to the teams, set to introduce him but they stop a moment.   He’s having trouble not tearing up.  Her brow furrows worriedly.  “Are you ok?”

Not really but then none of this seems real.  “Fine, fine Miss Y/N.” 

“Call me Y/N, please.” 

“Thank you. Y/N.  Tell me..” he asks quietly.

Her cap tilts up and she has to shield her eyes from the sun. “What?”

“Why?  Why did you do all this?  You didn’t have to. You….”  could have hated my guts forever, he wants to say but manages to keep it in.    

Y/N gives a quiet sigh. “I thought about it. What I said and what you said and I realize that I was wrong.  Our situations are totally different.  When my team was traded I was furious for months.. years honestly, but I had that last game at Olympic Stadium.  I got Gary Carter’s autograph and Pedro Martinez’ too.  Said goodbye.  Kept a souvenir ball.   You didn’t have that time to grieve.  When you woke up they were gone and that was a cruel surprise.  I can’t turn back time, but I can take you a little of the way there.  Let America’s hero have the chance to play.  And give your Dodgers’ the proper send-off you deserve.”

Steve is gobsmacked. This incredible, amazing, baseball crazy woman has changed this game just for him.  He stands staring down at her, wondering how he got so lucky.  He ticked her off and she’s still coming back.

Like Peggy.  

He stands a moment, stunned by his own realization and watching her rummage in her purse.   She shoves a scoresheet and binoculars aside and pulls out something that looks suspiciously like a ball.  

“Steve I wanted to apologize.  And the game is that, but also I got you this.”  She puts the scuffed up, flaky old leather of a Brooklyn ball into his upturned palm.  

“It’s…”

The home run ball he caught on May 26, 1941.  

The game that Shield played on the oldtime radio as he was waking up in another world.

The blue ink of the date and name were faded but unmistakeable. The poor agent greeting him could have never known.  Of all the games to pick..one burned into his memory.  The Brooklyn Eagle had run a picture of him and Pete Reiser on the center of the sports page: the skinny ‘local kid’ giving back to the Rookie of the Year his very first home run ball.  That dinger had tied the game, launched Pistol Pete onto a year of league-leading runs.  

Of course Steve could never forget it.  It was, he’d once assumed, his fifteen minutes of fame.  

“How?”  Did you know?

Y’N laughs.  It wrinkles her freckled nose adorably. “If you thought baseball was good for stats, just see the MLB now! It wasn’t hard to find.  A Steve Rogers in the forties catching Pete Reiser’s first home run ball.”

He supposes not. But… he scans her face.  She can’t know that that was the game he woke up too?  Or can she?  Did Fury get involved?  Was this another way for him to apologize for his little trick?  

And does it really matter anymore. He scuffs a cleat against the astroturf.  “Look I’ve been an…”

“Ass?”  Y/N grins as she can’t help but tease.  “I am not the one known as ‘America’s Ass.’”

He laughs.  “Not in these baggy things.”

“I don’t know they aren’t so bad.”  

Are they flirting?!  Oh god they are and he hasn’t blundered yet.

He throws the ball nervously from hand to hand.  “It’s too much..it’s….”

“Just what you deserve.”

After that they go down the lines; shaking hands with every coach and player new and old.   The day is to honour old timers and Steve is delighted to find it includes six players still alive from before the team was moved: Sandy Koufax, Don Drysdale and Cody Bellinger,  Branch Rickey who he remembers enlisted in the Army in ’42, and Tommy Lasorda, player and then winning coach.  They are wrinkled and grey-haired but still hold their gloves with ease, josh with him about being the perfect designated hitter for a team, cat call the ‘vistors’ who are mostly LA alumni.  

Soon it will be time to take the field.  One last handshake to go.  Y/N directs him along to the next in line and he looks over to find the young LA short stop who had been there is gone.  

Replaced by a white-haired, thin bearded man in uniform and wheelchair.  

“Would you like me to autograph that for you son?”

This time Steve’s jaw hits the floor.  “Pete…?”

“Reiser..yup.”  The old man taps his head.  “So lucky to be here.  96 years young. 1 year younger than you are.. though I’ll allow it you look a little better.”

Steve laughs and shakes his head. “I can’t believe it.”

“Yeah, well somedays neither can I,” Pete chuckles.  “Got all my faculties if not my legs. Dodgers in LA. Who would have credited it, but sometimes change is good.  These bums keep winning championships.” 

Steve smiles. Perhaps he’s right, but Pete was the guy that won them a pennant after twenty years of drought. “You almost turned them round, Sir.”

“Now quite how I remember it. But I do remember a scrawny kid who volunteered to give me my ball back.”

Of course he had.  It was what a good fan does.  Steve flushes.  “I am so honoured.”

“That makes two of us, son.”

Steve looks up to cheering friends and then back at Y/N.  She’s held her official boardroom style composure for an hour under the sun; introduced with pride every player new and old, but this time it’s she that can’t speak.  Wipes tears from off her cheeks; smiling freely and quite unconcerned that Fox Sports is televising this live.  

No way she doesn’t understand how important this moment is.  And Reiser. Who’s had to give up his ball.

Fury’s so going to hear from him.  Later.

There’s a faintly impatient ‘Cap’ and Steve turns quickly back.  Pete’s gesturing, beckoning him down and so he drops down on his haunches. The old Dodger leans forward and taps a gnarled finger on the ball.

“Super serum or whatever, lad let me give you some advice.  You see that one?”  He points over Steve’s shoulder to Y/N who is distracted, joking with A.J. Ellis who will the catch the game.  The sun is bringing out red highlights in her hair. 

 “Take it from me, I can tell.  She’s sweet on you.” A pair of watery blue eyes twinkle.  “And Lordy she’s a keeper.”

“Yes sir.”

Steve rises and on Tommy Lasorda’s signal jogs out into centre-field.  Once there he punches his hand in his glove, plays a few rounds of long toss, and stands, not quite able to take it in.

The noise.  The smell.  The sheer huge expanse of field.  

I am so lucky to be here.  So blessed.  So hoping I don’t drop the ball.  

He doesn’t realize he murmurs the last out loud until Bucky’s voice breaks into his earpiece.

It is the one concession to Stark’s vigilance.  “Of course you will.”  

“Punk.”

“Jerk.”  

Steve laughs.  His and Bucky’s friendship, unlike the Dodgers, will never change.  As he waits, nervous and excited, for Clayton Kershaw’s windup,  he looks up to the owner’s box and reflects that, after all, Pete Reiser may be right.  

Sometimes change is good.  

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

@nomadicpixel; @theycallmebecca; @pegasusdragontiger; @mycapt-ohcapt; @patzammit; @neutralchaos1; @arizonapoppy; @weirdlet; 

[cryoculus]

Can you do angst? If not it's okay, but can you do a scenario with bokuto or tsukishima's long time friend developing feelings for them. But the guy is to focused on his current crush to notice his long time friend. But she wants to be a good friend so she sets up the guy and his crush, and nearly dies. But refuses to tell the guys why she almost died. Sorry if this is confusing for you to understand.

» Word Count: 3,475 words

It took a while for me to fill this in, sorry for that! I just hit a wall with how the near-death experience was gonna play out, but I managed to come up with it this way. Note: this has become Akaashi-centric, ‘cause the best way that I could convey the friend’s grief was through the eyes of someone as perceptive as Akaashi. GOD this is about 3,000+ words, so I put the rest under the cut!

EDIT: I realized that the request wasn’t specific to certain pronouns, and I FORGOT THAT while I was writing this, and subconsciously implied that the friend was female. Sorry!

Akaashi was not one to stick his nose in matters that didn’t involve his direct interference. It was a principle that he trained himself to uphold, since he observed too often that, when one person meddled in another’s business more than he needs, it comes back to bite him in the behind in the near future.

But sometimes…sometimes he convinces himself that inaction could be the worst of sins he can commit. 

His predicament began on the day he walked across the bridge that led to his neighborhood, when he didn’t have any volleyball practice. The sun was beginning to set, emitting a resplendent orange glow in the vast sky. At that moment, Akaashi was so caught up with the twilight in the West, that he barely noticed the figure emerging from the bottom of the concrete bridge. He did though.

“(Name)-san?” Akaashi stopped in his tracks, regarding his senpai, whose uniform was soaking wet, with a raised eyebrow. 

You snapped your head in his direction, panic filling your eyes. Scrambling to your feet, you acknowledged Akaashi’s presence with a curt bow. 

“A-Akaashi! What brings you here?” Your tone came a bit shaky, like you were hiding something from him. Akaashi wasn’t particularly curious, but he was concerned. You’re Bokuto’s best friend, after all.

“Did you…fall into the river, (Name)-san?” That’s what he could deduce from the situation – drenched uniform, scrapes on your legs and arms, and a slight shiver in your composure. 

“W-Wha – oh! No, no, no! You’ve got it wrong!” You raised your hands, denying his assumption. “I d-dropped my phone in the water, I came to, um, retrieve it…”

Akaashi retained his aloof expression, but he could somehow tell that you weren’t telling the truth. It was rare to see you like this. You’ve always been a cheery person, who never seemed to lose their glee. However, it wasn’t like him to press others for information, so he ended the curious exchange by saying, “Do tend to your cuts, (Name)-san. They might get infected.”

You chuckled, lightly knocking your fist on your temple. “I can’t believe my kouhai is telling me off for such a clumsy thing I did. Thanks.”

The two of you were headed in opposite directions. Akaashi was treading forward, while you were headed to where he came from. At the corner of his eye, when the two of you passed by the other, he could see the ivory-tinged lilies you held in a tight grip behind your back. 

When you finally passed him, Akaashi paused once more, looking back at your retreating form. Why had you picked the rare flowers that bloomed under this bridge, knowing it’d be a risk? He didn’t know. 

But he knew better than to meddle. 

“Yo, Bo!”

Akaashi’s ears perked up at the familiar voice. Morning practice had just finished, and everyone was beginning to fix their things for their first period. Bokuto, who was at the other side of the gym, greeted you with a high five.

“Ahh, you’re a lifesaver, (Name)!” His captain exclaimed, encasing you in a bone-crushing hug. “It looks exactly like the kind she wanted! I couldn’t find these anywhere! Where’d you get them?”

When you pushed the energetic spiker away, Akaashi could clearly see the lilies you picked from yesterday, the stems wrapped together with a pink ribbon, in Bokuto’s hands. 

You flipped your hair. “I got it from a reliable source at a steal price! The guy selling them thought I was cute, and gave me a discount~”

“Oho? As expected from the charismatic class rep!”

You crossed your arms. “Now make sure Saki-chan’s gonna like them or I might’ve wasted my charms for nothing.”

Bokuto hollered, fist bumping you. “You won’t be disappointed.”

It was always loud whenever you paid Bokuto visits during morning practice, and it grated on Akaashi’s nerves every time your loud voices intermingled in his ears. But somehow today, your grin didn’t quite reach your eyes, and your laughter sounded a little forced. It was a minimal shift in your usual behavior, but it was enough for him to notice. 

Still, even if was he the only one who saw the bright colored band-aids through your stockings, he knew better than to meddle. 

About a week later, he overheard the two of you talking amongst yourselves in the hallway just outside the gym. Not wanting to interrupt the conversation, Akaashi stayed behind the lockers in the corner hallway. 

“She liked them, (Name)! She really did!” He could hear Bokuto jumping about in excitement. 

You laughed. “Best lilies in town, I tell you.”

“Can I…uhm, get some more? I kinda promised that I’d give her some every week. I-I’ll even pay you!”

Silence followed for a while, but then a fit of giggles resounded in the walls. “Bo, you don’t have to. I told you that the seller has a huge crush on me, remember? He might just give me seventy percent off the next time. y’know?”

He huffed. “Alright, fine. Just make sure that guy doesn’t pull any funny moves with you, though! The moment he does anything perverted, tell me right away!”

“Sure thing, Bo! I’ll give it to you Friday morning.” 

After exchanging farewells, Akaashi could hear the double doors to the gym close shut. Footsteps, presumably yours, were getting closer, and he’s in a really compromising position –

“Akaashi?” You furrowed your eyebrows, eyeing his pressed up form on the lockers. You contemplated for a while, and for some reason he didn’t move an inch. “Were you eavesdropping?”

Shit. You noticed. 

He straightened himself out, clearing his throat. “I just did not want to interrupt, (Name)-san.”

You nodded warily, brushing past him without another word. But just as you were about to round another corner, you halted, and looked back at him. 

“Akaashi, would you do me a favor?” 

He slightly craned his head in confusion. “What is it?”

You offered him a sad smile, an expression that he thought he’d never see you make. “Could you…not tell Bo?”

He nodded, not wanting to be part of…whatever this is in the first place. After all, he knew better than to meddle. 

For the next few months, your presence after practice has been a staple every Friday morning. Everyone in the volleyball team has been accustomed to the presence of Bokuto’s best friend right after practice ended. However, the girl he was trying to woo was yet to make an appearance in the gym, which more or less baffled their teammates.

“Saki-chan’s really shy, but I’m helping her get through her social anxiety,” Bokuto smiled to himself. It was a rare sight for Akaashi to see his captain like this, soft spoken and not an owl on steroids. 

Almost everyone in Fukurodani heard of Ishikawa Saki, the third year that attempted to commit suicide on the school’s rooftop. Akaashi remembered the scene vividly. He was right behind Bokuto when he coaxed her out of her suicidal tendencies, after all. 

She was a bashful, but gentle girl. Akaashi would almost call her fragile, but with the way that Bokuto was supporting her now, she’s starting to get back up on her own feet. It was quite a love story, as some of the girls he passed by in the hallways said. Who knew that the loud, outgoing captain of the volleyball team would be the suicidal girl’s saving grace? 

If anything, Akaashi didn’t like to think of it that way. Bokuto didn’t save her. He only helped her to save herself, and maybe he managed to catch some feelings along the way. Akaashi would have approved of their budding union, but…

“Bo~” Your singsong voice rang in his ears. 

When Akaashi spared you a glance, you looked horrible. Of course, you were still the pretty class rep of 3-1 that everyone admired, but there was no doubt of your disheveled state. Your hair was escaping your loose pony tail, your eyes looked tired beyond comprehension, your uniform was unironed, the pleats of your skirt, rumpled (if he looked a little closer it looked damp, even), and you weren’t wearing your stockings. Your legs, which were bandaged all the way up to your thighs, were on full display. 

“What happened to you?” Bokuto ran over to you, grabbing you gently by the shoulders. “Why are your legs bandaged up?”

“Oh, this? This is nothing, Bo! I may have gotten into quite a scuffle with the guy selling these.” You feigned ignorance, handing your usual delivery with an unmatched smile. “He probably got mad that I won’t accept his confession.”

He scowled. “He did what?”

You laughed. “Bo, I was kidding! I got into an accident on my bike and might have fucked up my legs.” You forcibly placed the lilies in his hands. “I’m alright, okay? Stuff like this happens.”

Reluctantly, Bokuto accepted the flowers, twirling the stem in his hands. “If something worse happens to you, I won’t forgive myself, you know? I’m supposed to be your best friend…”

For a split second, Akaashi could see your lip quiver, something akin to despair shadowing your face. But it’s as gone as it came. Instead, you flashed him a small smile. “I know that more than anyone, Bo.” 

At this point, Akaashi was beginning to have second thoughts on his sentiments on meddling.

The next Friday, it was raining heavily. Classes were suspended because of the torrential downpour, but Akaashi’s mother didn’t have qualms with sending her son out in the rain for some errands. Of course, he complied. The market was just beyond the bridge. It wasn’t too bothersome a journey. 

So, he shrugged on a jacket, retrieved an umbrella, and headed out. The sky was so dark, he had a hard time convincing himself that it was only ten in the morning. The raindrops heavily tapped on his umbrella, forcing him to huddle himself under its cover so his clothes wouldn’t get too soaked. 

As he closed in on the bridge, he noticed the river rapidly flowing down the stream. It was always like this during particularly rainy days. The slightest drizzle would make the river wild.

However, at the far end, he could see a familiar backpack sitting idly on the sidewalk. That’s…

Akaashi’s eyes widened when he pieced everything together. He only saw you emerge from under the bridge once all those months ago, but hasn’t seen you again in the area ever since. You insisted for months that you got the flowers from some guy that apparently fancies you, but you had also told Akaashi not to tell Bokuto about what he witnessed that time. 

His discarded his umbrella, as he ran to the railing, craning his head as far as he could for any sign of you. The rain immediately soaked through his hair and clothes. When he was out of luck on this side, he switched to the other side, and –

The moment he saw the form of a girl with dirty bandages on her legs, lying face down on a slightly elevated island in the middle of the harsh stream, Akaashi peeled off his jacket and shirt, and dived in without a second thought. 

The stream was flowing to the direction where your unconscious form was lying, so he didn’t have to propel himself with much effort. When he got to the island, his sneakers almost sunk into the mud. Not paying it any mind, he kneeled down, lifting you up to rest your body against his own. 

“(Name)-san? Can you hear me?” He shouted through the loud rain, but you weren’t responding. He placed the back of his hand against the skin of your neck and it was hot to the touch. How long have you been out here?

He gathered you in his arms, as his eyes darted everywhere in search for a route back to the bridge. The stream was flowing against him now, and it would be hard enough for him to swim back on his own, but he had to get you to safety, too –

“Bo…?” You opened your eyes, but they had a glazed look on them. “Bo…I’ve got it…Y-You can give it to…Saki-chan later…” You lifted a trembling fist up to him, Akaashi took whatever you had in your hand in his. When he unfurled his fingers, he saw a white lily, whose petals were frayed and torn from the time you’ve spent protecting it from the rain. 

Something pierces through his chest, and shatters the composure he’s kept up all this time. It’s something he’s never felt before, but all he could do is cradle your feverish body in silence, as his tears mixed with the raindrops that fell on his face.

“Why are you doing this?” His voice cracked, fingers digging into the skin of your arms. “Why?!”

You already sustained an injury on your legs, you’ve been out here, passed out and running an incredibly high fever for God knows how long, you’ve got new cuts all over your arms, so…why? Why could you still find it in yourself to grin at him like it was nothing? Why do you sacrifice so much, go out of your way all the time, risk your own precious life…for the sake of his stupid, stupid captain, who was oblivious to your feelings for him? 

Still shaking, from the rain or from the fever, or from both, you raised your hand to cup Akaashi’s cheek. What were you seeing right now? He was curious, but for now, he’d tend to your fantasies for your sake. 

“It’s…‘cause I want you…to be happy.” A single tear rolled down your cheek. “I…love you, Bo.”

It took a while before you could go back to school, given your multiple injuries and the fact that you almost drowned in pursuit of the lilies you always gave to Bokuto. But that’s not what you told the school. You informed them that the injuries in your legs simply worsened and you had to be observed in the hospital at an indefinite amount of time. 

Akaashi was the only one who knew of what truly transpired. He was the one he brought you to the hospital when a few locals spotted the two of you after all. However, when your family arrived and thanked him ceaselessly for having saved your life, he took his leave. His presence wasn’t necessary, anyway. Or maybe he just couldn’t stomach the sight of you in your hospital bed, knowing that he could have prevented this all from happening should he have taken action earlier. He noticed everything, yet did nothing about it…

Bokuto was concerned, of course, but his head was too wrapped up in the fact that they were competing for the Spring High Nationals the following Monday after the incident, that he couldn’t bring himself to at least contact you about it.

However, when you did come back to school on the first Friday of December, you didn’t show up to their morning practice anymore. Akaashi should have gotten used to it by now, given that you were absent for at least two Fridays already. But when you texted him about your return today (you exchanged phone numbers at some point), he half-expected you to be up and running with some stupid white lilies in your hands, giving them to his dumbass captain to treat his girlfriend while being in the dark with everything you’ve been through thus far. 

If he was being honest with himself, he hated his captain right now. Akaashi, of all people, was expected to be the one who’d understand all of Bokuto’s behaviors and mannerisms the most, but witnessing firsthand what you went through, the thought of you sacrificing everything for the sake of his happiness… How could he be so God damn oblivious to all of it?

But then, before he let his blind rage consume him, Akaashi got a text message from you. 

meet me at the rooftop in five?

The cold air seeped through his clothes when Akaashi opened the door to the rooftop. Winter really has settled in in Tokyo. Rubbing his arms as a pathetic attempt of getting warm, he darted his eyes around for any sign of you, and saw your lonesome form standing by the metal fence. He made his way towards you.

“Hey,” you spoke without facing him, fingers gripping the fence. “Did you know that these were put up here after the incident with Saki-chan? It was to guarantee that no one was gonna pull any stunts like that here anymore.”

Akaashi nodded, gazing out at the view of the city. “Yes, I am aware.”

You hummed, and stood there in silence for a good while. Akaashi suddenly recalled that fateful day from what now seemed like a long time ago. The rain pelting his bare back, the smell of the soaked Earth under his knees, the constricting sensation in his throat, and the glassy look in your eyes, that suggested that you weren’t thinking clearly at the time. When he asked you if you remembered that you thought he was Bokuto, you drew no memory of it. He wasn’t sure if he should be glad or not.

“Akaashi, why’d you save me?” 

Ah, but you did remember that he’s the one who actually jumped into the river to save you. 

Akaashi exhaled, averting his gaze as far as he could from you because, frankly, even he didn’t know what drove him to strip his clothes and jump into the stream that day. He’s been doing a great job ignoring everything he took notice of with your strange behavior, minding his own business. Wait… You were dying, for God’s sake! If someone else was in his shoes that time, they would have done the same. It’s only natural that he’d go rescue you. And maybe…maybe he wouldn’t be able to live with himself knowing that he kept turning a blind eye to your suffering. 

A thousand thoughts swirl in his mind, but all he could bring himself to say is, “Because you’re important to Bokuto-san.” 

You laughed, turning to him. “Am I not important to you?”

He raised an eyebrow, making sure his face didn’t betray any discomposure. “Why would you ask me that, (Name)-san?”

You put a finger on your chin. “Hmm… I know you saw through all my lies, you know? I thought it was just a rumor that Fukurodani’s Akaashi Keiji could read the volleyball team’s enemies better than anyone, but to be able to apply that outside of a game?” A grin made its way on your lips. “You really are something, huh?”

“I don’t understand. What am I supposed to make of our conversation?” 

You scratched the back of your head, chuckling. “I don’t know either, actually. I just wanted to thank you properly.” You reached out from behind your back – he didn’t notice you were carrying anything – and handed him a lavender flower with two unfurled petals, like it was just beginning to bloom. Akaashi shot you a confused look, but accepted it, regardless.

“I did my research,” you imparted. “The lilies that I was picking for Bo…they’re referred to as the flower of death. Makes sense why Saki-chan would like them… Okay, bad joke, but yeah.” You mulled over your next words for a moment, cheeks beginning to tinge red. “This is an iris. They symbolize hope, or at least that’s what the internet wanted us to know.”

Akaashi examined the Iris in his hands, then turned to you. “Where’d you get it this time?”

His accusatory tone made you laugh, and this time it sounded genuine. “Oh, you think I jumped under a bridge to grab these again? Nah. I got it from the flower market downtown. The guy selling them probably likes me. Gave it to me for free~”

“Did he, now?” He couldn’t help it. His lips turned up into a small smile. “Why have you decided to give this to me, of all people, (Name)-san?”

“Oh, God, don’t ask me. It’s kinda corny.”

“Pray tell.”

“Fine.” You shifted your gaze back to the city skyline. “It’s ‘cause… You were the one who made me realize that Bo’s not the only guy in the world. In a way, you gave me hope that there’s someone else out there just waiting for me.” 

He contemplated for a moment, letting your words sink in, before saying, “You’re absolutely right. That was corny.”

An irk mark appeared on your head. “Hah? Who knew Akaashi Keiji, aloof second year setter of Fukurodani, could be a wise-ass, too?”

Then and there, Akaashi realized that he’s glad that he didn’t know better than to meddle, in the end.

[imaginedolanscribbles]

Tastes like heaven, sounds like art

boxer!Ethan x (shy) ballerina!reader

warnings: none (maybe swearing)

words: 3.499

summary: what it says in the title (anon requested)

& the lovely peeps who asked me to be tagged: @lanelessphilosopher @godlydolans @obsidiandolans @me-a-hopeless-romantic @takenbyheartstrings

You spend a lot of time in the studio. Seven days a week it’s class and rehearsals (or a show) and the time you’ve got left you usually spend in the gym doing balancing exercises. Your physical therapist has given you a list of exercises to strengthen your ankles and knees, and some to counteract the asymmetrical training some of the choreographies put your body under. Going to the gym this much has sort of gotten you used to spending time around huge, burly men shouting and groaning through their exercises (seriously, what is up with all the noises?). It’s also where you saw him the first time.

He was sitting at the Butterfly, headphones dangling around his neck and eyes cast down at his hands. His hair was dark and floppy, pushed back with a headband, and his hands were in fingerless gloves. You’d never seen him before at this gym and you wondered if he was one of those casual-working-out-guys, who came in anywhere between once a week to once every few months, or maybe one of the addicted-to-working-out-guys who were here before you arrived and left after you’d gone.

He was…well, not pretty per se but he was definitely attractive. The heavy set of his shoulders emphasized the almost elegant curve of his chest, his arms were toned but in that way arms get when being trained to get stronger rather than bigger. He was wearing red shorts, which was why you could see the black ink covering is thighs and, yeah, this one definitely didn’t skip leg day.

Almost as though he could feel your gaze, he looked up and revealed intense, dark eyes framed by thick eyelashes, and his jaw was so square it was almost funny. With his perfectly shaped body and that face he looked like the literal epitome of a (former) all-American frat-boy. You wouldn’t’ve spared him another thought if it hadn’t been for that look. He didn’t smile like strangers usually do, no trace of that embarrassed-polite smile when looks cross accidentally. There was a strange sort of calm about him. He just met your eyes and his gaze flickered down your body for a second before fixating on your eyes again. Reflexively you smiled nervously and ducked your head as you walked past him.

And that’s how it goes for the next few weeks – you keep finding your eyes wandering back to him, like he holds some gravitational pull over you, and more often than not he will be looking back at you. Although usually you can’t repress the instinctive polite smile, his lips never even twitch and you’re not sure whether he thinks you’re an annoying weirdo or if is just so bored, he doesn’t even register he’s looking at you.

Nonetheless, you can’t help but notice the little things. Like him usually being there before you but finishing up his work-out around the time you do. He’s at the gym four to five times a week and never on Sundays and Mondays. He’s usually rubbing and flexing his hands, which leads you to believe he’s probably busy with the boxing bag before you arrive. He’s either much quicker or much slower than you in the showers because you never see him on the way out.

It’s not even a crush or something, he just fascinates you endlessly without you being able to explain why to anyone. It actually helps you during the ballet classes before gym-time since it’s more of a meditation-time for you anyway, and somehow you’re able to really lose yourself in movement when your mind is occupied, trying to trace the shape of the dark stranger’s figure in your imagination. Still, it’s not like your daydreaming goes completely unnoticed: Tony, your dancing partner, was curious enough about this ‘mystery dude’ that he accompanied you to the gym one time. He usually trains with his personal trainer but said he was willing to get into a room with lots of sweaty, grunting men just to check out whomever had been stuck on your mind.

Tony had gotten one glance of the ‘mystery dude’, turned around with an almost shocked expression, and given you both thumbs up. He usually doesn’t like whom you find attractive so this is a first, but it also means Tony keeps suggesting scandalous stuff under his breath, whenever the stranger changes machines, touches his hair, wipes sweat off his brow, literally anything. You’re too aware of your own body the entire gym-session and you take extra care not to look in the stranger’s direction, too afraid he might notice your burning cheeks. You’re glad Tony doesn’t accompany you to the gym anymore after that.

It’s the fourth week since the stranger started appearing in your gym, when he misses a gym-day for the first time. Maybe he has a family and one of his children is sick? He seems young to have children but you don’t want to rule out the possibility, only because you like looking at him. It makes you feel slightly guilty, the thought of oogling someone else’s husband/partner, potentially even father...

The next day is a Sunday, during which he’s never in the gym anyway, which means you have to wait two entire days until you see him again. On Tuesday you’re so distracted wondering whether or not he’s going to be there today, that you get not just one but two disapproving tuts during class.

When you arrive at the gym two hours later, you’re disappointed when you can’t find him at first. You make your way to the mats by the boxing bags and start stretching a little – you don’t need to warm up anymore after ballet class every day before the gym. It’s when you’ve just sat down with weights to start the pelvis-lifts, that you recognize him.

He’s standing not five metres away next to one of the bags, signature red shorts slung low on his hips, a sportsbag at his feet where he’s just dropped his shirt, and is pulling his fingerless gloves on. Even though you like looking at him, you have never openly gaped at him (you don’t think), but this time you can’t help yourself. He has the physique fitting with his well-trained shoulders and arms: a trim waist, stomach all wiry muscle and taut skin, covered in a sheen of sweat. Not that it’s not impressive but you’re a dancer, you’re seeing half- or fully naked bodies in incredible shape multiple times every day. Granted, he’s a lot broader and bulkier than any of your partners, male or female, but that’s not why you’re staring.

He’s covered in bruises. His torso is literally black and blue, a little greenish, yellowy in some places where bruises are old enough to start fading. His hair is sticking to his face which covers parts of it up, but even though you can only look at half of it, you can still see the purple bruise blooming under his left eye, the split lip and the small white plasters, holding his skin together where it’s split open right through his eyebrow. He looks horribly beaten up and you don’t know how he can stand in the gym so nonchalant, like he shouldn’t be in bed resting.

His face scrunches a little in pain when he bends down to rustle through his bag and pull out a fresh grey t-shirt. As he pulls it over his head you can almost feel the way his bruised, swollen, torn muscles groan with the movement, but all you can hear from him is a small puff of air.

When he bends down a second time to pick up his bag, he suddenly turns his head and looks straight into your eyes, like he knew you were watching him all along. Your face heats up immediately and you lay back hastily, staring up at the ceiling blankly as you try and start your lifts as casually as possible.

It takes no more than ten seconds, then you hear a throat being cleared and when you lower your eyes from the ceiling, he’s standing at your feet, bag slung lazily over his shoulder, arms crossed in front of his chest. You don’t lower your hips, silently counting the seconds as to not disrupt your exercise. “Uhm. Hello?”

“Yeah, hi”, he says and it doesn’t sound half as cranky as you’d have expected from someone with half their face covered in bruises. Still, he doesn’t smile, just looks at you with that same unnerving calm you noticed the first time you ever saw him. “You looked scared, so I thought I’d come over and tell you real quick...you should see the other guy.”

You don’t know if you’re supposed to laugh at that, looking at him it doesn’t seem that funny. Nonetheless you snort and roll your eyes. “Yeah. Okay.”

The half of his face that isn’t swollen and purple actually twitches and for a split second you can imagine how blindingly bright his smile would be. “Sorry, I had to. Really, it’s not as bad as it looks.”

“Well, it looks really fucking bad, so…” You flush when you hear yourself swearing, you don’t usually swear and you don’t know why you did just now. You hope he will chalk your redness up to your exercise.

He grimaces and scratches the back of his neck, wincing when the movement pulls on some sore muscle. “It’s fine, really. Don’t worry about it.”

You pull your eyes away from him and stare back up at the ceiling with a curt nod. “Okay. I won’t.”

There’s a beat of silence and you want to glace back at him so badly when you don’t hear his shoes retreating over the gym floor, but you keep your eyes up and wait, the seconds dragging on. Five. Ten.

“I’m Ethan, by the way”, he says finally and you almost lose your balance at the nervous flutter in your stomach. You glance at him quickly and find him looking at you, calm and collected as ever, arms still crossed and his lips twitching like he wants to smile but doesn’t allow himself. You can feel your heart beating in your throat and hastily look away when your face heats up even more.

“Nice to meet you, Ethan”, you reply to the ceiling.

You can hear a dark chuckle but before you can work up the courage to look back at him and maybe get a glance at his smile, he’s already turned around and making his way to the Butterfly on the other end of the gym. “I’ll see you around, princess.”

You want to protest, he’s nowhere near close enough to you to be giving you nicknames – especially not condescending and ridiculous ones like ‘princess’ – but somehow you’re too out of breath to say anything, even though the pelvic lifts haven’t exhausted you in years.

      oooo

       Over the following weeks, as his bruises fade, you learn that Ethan’s a boxer, he moved here not long ago, and he arrives at the gym for his sparring session a full two hours before you. He greets you with a nod every day and seems to have decided, since you’re on a first-name-basis now, he’s allowed to watch you even more blatantly than he did before. This has resulted in you blushing almost the entire time you spend at the gym, but you find it doesn’t really bother you. You’re used to people looking at you every night on stage and even though it’s somehow different with Ethan, it’s also kind of nice to feel all that attention on you. Especially when he starts replying with invitations instead of answers to your questions.

Granted, “You know what, I think spontaneously forgot. But I’m sure I’ll be able to remember later tonight at that Italian restaurant on 33rd street?” is not an answer to your question of how he became a boxer…but you can’t say, that reply didn’t make your stomach flutter in that deliciously nervous way Ethan’s been causing you to feel all day.

“Yeah?”, he asks when you hide your face behind your hair, a nervous laugh on your lips .

He’s ducked down to your eye-level but you avoid looking at him by staring at your feet and clearing your throat. His feet are less than half a foot away from yours. “Uh, well, I don’t get off until half past eleven, so…”

“Shouldn’t be a problem, the place is open until one a.m. if I remember correctly”, Ethan shrugs and you look up so quickly, you almost hit him in the chin with your head.

“Really? You don’t mind?”, you ask before you can think twice about it.

He shrugs once more. “Nah, I’m a night-owl anyway.”

And that’s how you find yourself nervously waiting in front of a little Italian restaurant at 11.45 p.m. on a Thursday night. Luckily, it’s summer, so you don’t freeze to death while waiting for Ethan to show up.

He shows up not one minute later, a black sweater thrown over his shoulder, white t-shirt stretching over his wide chest and hands buried in worn-out blue jeans. He looks good enough to just lick up right then and there, and you try hard to fight down the blush spreading across your face at the thought.

“Hey”, he says softly, coming to a halt a little closer than strictly necessary and you can smell laundry-detergent, sun-kissed skin and, faintly, aftershave. You want to run your fingers up his arms and under the sleeves of his arms to feel his warm skin everywhere.

“Hi”, you reply instead and hope he can’t hear the dryness of your throat. He’s close enough that you can see where his lip is still sporting a dark spot where the split has almost healed. The bruise on his face is gone now, and his split eyebrow has healed so well, you can only see it because you know where to look for it.

Ethan answers all your questions over Spaghetti Bolognese and red wine, his amusement seemingly growing with each question coming from your mouth. He tells you about his twin brother, who’s becoming a kindergartener on the outskirts of town, about his older sister and his parents, whom he missed so much, he moved here to be closer to them; he even tells you how he got into boxing when he was younger, even though he keeps the root of it short with “a rough time at school”.

The waiter politely reminds you of their closing time at ten minutes to one and Ethan offers to pay, but shrugs easily when you suggest splitting the bill. You make your own money at the theatre and even though you might not make a fortune, you can pay for your own food.

“You’re a real curious one, huh?”, Ethan says as he hands you your jacket before holding the door open for you to step outside. “I feel like I talked the entire time and never got to ask you anything.”

Your feel your heart beating quicker again, but you force yourself to look up at him anyway, when you boldly suggest: “Well, you could ask me questions over dessert?”

Ethan blinks and a slow smile spreads over his face as he holds your gaze. “You think you’re so smooth, don’t you?”

You shrug and duck your head. “Maybe.”

Ethan laughs quietly and before you can react, he has his arm slung around your shoulders and is steering you down the street. “Well, then lead the way, m’lady.”

You can feel the entire length of his body pressed and moving against you, and he’s so warm and curving so invitingly around your form, that you tentatively reach out to wrap your arm around his middle and rest your hand by his hip. He smells even better this close.

“Why do you keep doing that?”, you ask as you quickly go through your memory of the nearest place still selling ice-cream at this hour. Getting up tomorrow is going to be hell. “You keep calling me ‘lady’ and ‘princess’, even though I told you my name.”

Ethan follows your lead easily and lets you steer his body through the late-night pedestrians without resistance. It’s a heady feeling, having him this pliant under your touch when you can feel every inch of pure strength moving against you, bulging muscles shifting smoothly under layers of skin and soft cotton fabric. Although you know you’re quite strong yourself, mostly due to the years of training required for your occupation, you know Ethan would have no trouble picking you up and carrying you around – also probably mostly due to his job.

“Have you seen yourself?”, he chuckles and meets your questioning look with a smirk playing on his lips. “You have probably the most regal posture I have ever seen. And usually, you look so put together, all prim and proper, not a hair out of place. If you didn’t blush so easily your nickname would’ve probably been ‘ice queen’ or something, so, I’d say you got lucky.”

You can feel your blush spreading down your neck and lower your eyes again. “Uhm, that’s…I think most dancers have that posture.”

“I wouldn’t know.” Even though you don’t look at him, you can feel him shrug against you. “So, about that ballet thing – “

He questions you all about dancing and your training regimen the entirety of the way to the ice cream parlour. You feel slightly guilty, going to eat ice cream when your diet explicitly tells you not to, but if you can’t have one cheat day per every few weeks, what’s the point?

Ethan goes to get the ice cream for the both of you, this time insisting to pay, and when he comes back both the scoops are in one bowl. He makes his eyes all round and wide while explaining innocently “they must’ve misunderstood my order”. You hide your smile and take the little plastic spoon he hands you.

With one ice cream between you, you don’t walk arm in arm anymore and you would’ve been more disappointed if the ice cream weren’t so good. Ethan keeps asking about your family and how you got here, how you got into dancing in the first place, and you talk longer than it takes for the both of you to devour the ice cream.

Ethan is a great listener, too, humming and nodding along, his eyes so focused on your face it’s almost impressive he doesn’t stumble or walk into someone. Once the ice cream is done and he’s thrown the cup into the nearest bin, you can’t stop glancing at his hand just hanging by his side instead of slung around you. So, while you keep talking, you muster all your courage and reach out to wind your fingers through his, heart beating in your throat once more and  stomach fluttering when Ethan doesn’t hesitate to grip your hand securely in his.

“So”, you say after a while of walking side by side in silence. Ethan hasn’t asked any more questions and you start getting nervous again. Maybe you talked too much…maybe you were babbling…maybe you were boring…

“Well, I enjoyed this”, Ethan says and slows to a halt. You expect him to let go of your hand, but instead he pulls you in by it, until you’re literally toe to toe with him. Only then does he let go of your hand and cups your face between his palms, gently. His hands are bigger than your face and you can actually feel the roughness of his palms against your cheeks. “I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”, he breathes against your lips and your hands come up automatically behind him, to grab the back of his t-shirt.

“Okay”, you reply breathlessly, your eyes falling shut the moment he slots his lips over yours. You push up on your tip-toes instinctively, to get closer to him, and he sucks in breath through his nose before upping the pressure a little. You positively melt against him when his thumbs come down to tip your jaw the way he wants it, and he coaxes your mouth open with little effort. His breath is hot in your mouth and you can still taste ice cream when he licks his way into your mouth. He tastes like heaven and sounds like art when you pull his lower lip into your mouth to nibble and soothe the spot where his lip was split open not too long ago.

“I think we should do this again sometime”, Ethan mumbles when the both of you are breathless, foreheads pressed together, eyes still closed even as he gently nudges your nose with his.

You can’t help the bright laugh bubbling up in your throat and you nod, opening your eyes to meet his, sparkling darkly. “Yeah, yes, let’s do that.”

My Masterlist

[silverdrip]

Mad House (Frostiron)

@teckmonky I was inspired by your Wine Mom Loki~

@frost-iron

It had been eight years since the disastrous Civil War, seven since Tony quit being an Avenger, and three since the accords were ratified to Steve’s liking and the rogue Avengers came back.

But without Tony as an Avenger and with the US garnishing their wages to pay reparations to all the people they’d hurt and infrastructure they damaged during the Civil War, money was tight.

The Avengers couldn’t afford the upkeep or rent for the Avengers Compound. The cost for jet fuel for the quinjets was mind blowing. Their gear was falling apart and they didn’t have enough money to get specialists to fix them.

So Steve was going to Tony, hat in hand.

They hadn’t spoken since Steve reached out to him when the accords had been ratified, and when he had Tony had brushed him off, stating he didn’t have time for empty apologies. Steve bit back his anger and tried to convince him to join the Avengers again, but Tony told him the group wasn’t worth his time.

It was a bit embarrassing to ask him for money, but not as bad as when he’d been a dancing monkey raising war bonds.

Stark Tower seemed to loom over him with a malicious glare.

All the windows had been tinted, making it harder to look through them from the outside.

As Steve walked into the lobby he gawped at the new design. He could only describe it as razor sharp and intimidating.

It clashed with the wholesome look that Steve favored.

He was so caught up in his staring that he didn’t notice the adolescent girl that was nearing him.

She was walking backwards and flipping off the cameras. She walked straight into Steve and spun around.

“Watch it, fuck face!” she said loudly, making Steve reel backwards. She stormed off before he could formulate a response.

(More under the cut)

Steve stood frozen in place. There was something familiar about her, something that set Steve on edge, but he couldn’t identify what it was.

Steve brushed off the feeling, figuring it was just his nerves making him see things.

There was no one at the receptionist desk, but there was a little push button bell. He glanced around before pushing it.

A swirl of pink and orange appeared behind the desk before forming a holographic woman. She was wearing a pink, high collared dress that made her look professional. Her read hair was cut in an asymmetric bob, and her expression was bored.

“Do you have an appointment?” she asked and Steve recognized her voice.

“Friday?” he asked.

“That’s me, unless you’re referring to the date. In which case I feel obliged to tell you it’s Wednesday.” There was something teasing in her voice, almost mocking. Steve didn’t rise to the bait. Apparently, she was still mad about the Civil War nonsense.

“Can I just see Tony?” Steve asked, trying not to let his impatience show.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No, but—”

“Let me see if you’re on the list of people who are always welcome.” A pink holographic tablet popped into existence. Friday scrolled through it, putting on a show. “Nope, no Steve Rogers on the list.”

Friday disappeared.

Steve took in a slow, calming breath. After a beat, he pressed the bell again.

“Do you have an appointment?” Friday asked right away. “Oh, it’s you. Would you like to schedule an appointment? Boss will be free on,” Friday paused, “the 17th,” Steve grinned that was today, “of December,” Friday tacked on. That was over four months away.

“Can you just call Tony? I’m sure he’d be willing to see me.” Why did all of Tony’s AIs have to be so damn difficult?

“Hmm, I’ll give him a call.” Friday raises her hand to the side of her face as a holographic version of the latest Stark Phone appears. “Hey Boss.” There was a pause. “No, Hela left about three minutes ago. She was totally in a mood.” Friday giggled. “Yes, of course. Actually, I called because a gorilla named Steve Rogers is requesting to see you.” Friday swept her eyes over Steve, making him feel self-conscious. “I don’t know.” She pursed her lips. “Fine.” The phone pixilated into nothingness. “Mr. Rogers, please take the elevator to your right.”

He entered the elevator mid-song.

♪ Fuck you (fuck you) Fuck you very, very much Cause we hate what you do And we hate your whole crew So please don't stay in touch ♫

Steve had no doubt that Friday had chosen the song.

The elevator opened and Steve cringed at the loud music that was coming from Tony’s lab. It was another of those rock and roll songs Steve didn’t understand.

The door to the lab was open and as Steve walked in he froze in the doorway. The first thing he that caught his attention was a large, plastic castle—and the three children who were peeking out from it to look at him.

There was also a dragon about the size of a cat. A tiny boy with brown hair and green eyes was carrying it around as the dragon let out annoyed screeching noises.

A little girl was sitting at a desk near the other kids, drawing with crayons, but from what Steve could see it looked like a schematic.

A strange animal Steve couldn’t identify, almost a cross between an antelope and a cheetah, was sleeping in a hammock, its ears twitching ever so often.

Was Tony doing some weird animal experimentation? Steve had a scolding on the tip of his tongue, but held it back. He needed to ingratiate himself to Tony.

Steve finally spotted Tony among the chaos. He was concentrating on some device he was putting together.

There was a green goo with three eyes on his head and mixed in Tony’s hair.

Steve balked as he tried to make sense of it all.

“Rogers,” Tony greeted as the music turned down. He didn’t look away from the device he was working on. “What do you want?”

Steve walked over to him, avoiding the toys and machine bits that littered the ground.

“Hey, Tony. How are you doing?” Steve asked, trying to be pleasant. The goo on Tony’s head eyed him, making Steve uncomfortable.

Two of the kids in the castle tumbled out, wresting each other.

“No rough housing,” Tony called out, not even having to look at them.

“But daaaaaaaddd,” one whined. She ran over and clutched dirty jeans. “Daaaaaadddd!”

“Go to the gym if you must. The floor is padded for a reason.

The little girl squeaked happily.

“Astrid! Let’s go!” The other girl ran over and the little boy with the dragon toddled after them, sucking his thumb.

“Tadashi,” a blue hologram of a young Japanese man appeared, “can you make sure they don’t try to take apart the treadmill again?”

“Yeah, I’ll look after those knuckleheads.”

The hologram adjusted his baseball cap before walking after the three children.

Steve laughed feebly.

“I see you’ve made another AI.” Steve tried to sound friendly, but the way Tony glared at him made it clear it hadn’t worked. “Whose kids are these and was that a dragon?”

“Obviously, they’re mine. And Sapphy is a wyvern. What do you want?” Before Steve could respond Tony snapped his fingers. “Third strike, Glub!” The goo on Tony’s head convulsed. “I told you not to try and eat my earwax, but you did it anyway. Go tell your mother what you did.”

“Glub, glub, glub,” the goo said, belching out the words.

“No arguing, youngling.” The goo rounded into a ball and bounced off Tony’s head. It started rolling to the elevator, one eye staring back at them, somehow looking regretful. “Children these days,” Tony said to himself.

There was a loud hissing and Steve jumped backwards as a giant snake appeared from beneath the table.

Tony ran his hand over the snake’s head.

“Not, you Jor. You’re daddy’s little angel,” Tony crooned. The snake rested its head on Tony’s lap, barely able to fit. Tony snapped his fingers again. “What do you want, Rogers?”

“Oh, uhm, you see the thing is,” damn, Steve had rehearsed this, but the words came out as a jumble, “the Avengers’ wages are being garnished, except for Wasp’s and T’Challa’s, so things are a little tight and—”

“Are you asking for money?”

Steve’s face reddened. He looked at the ground despite himself.

Tony let out a sigh that was half annoyed, half tired.

“I leave the finances to my husband. You’ll have to ask him.” Tony patted Jor on the head and the snake retracted, curling up back under the table. “Babies! We’re going upstairs!”

There were a few grumbles.

One child who couldn’t be older than three went down the slide in the castle with an infant that looked like he could barely walk. The weird antelope-cheetah thing gracefully got out of the hammock and trotted over to them.

A green bat, fell from the ceiling. The skin that made up its wings was iridescent. It fluttered over to Tony before latching onto his earlobe. Steve would have mistaken it for a gaudy earring if it wasn’t blinking its green eyes.

“Daddy, can I stay? I wanna finish my design.” She looked up at him with big brown eyes.

“You can work on it upstairs. You know the rules. No little ones in the lab without my supervision.” The little girl grumbled to herself. She shut her crayon box loudly and gathered up a sheaf of paper before stomping over to the waiting elevator.

Tony went over and picked up the infant. The chubby cheeked girl tried to grab the bat, but Tony quickly switched which side she was on.

The infant tried to reach across him, but Tony grabbed her hand and pretended to eat it. She let out a shrill giggle that made Steve wince.

In the elevator, the antelope-cheetah leaned against Tony’s legs and Tony absentmindedly petted it between its ears.

Steve laughed nervously again.

“I didn’t know you had kids or that you were married.”

Tony gave him another sharp look.

“You should really watch the news.”

“Daddy, what’s for dinner? Can we have pasta?” one of the kids asked.

“Uncle Rhodey is coming over tonight so me and mommy will—”

“Mommy and I,” the little girl with the schematic corrected.

“Mommy and I,” Tony exaggerated while smiling, “will be having dinner with him. You munchkins will have whatever Kamala makes or orders in.”

“Sis-Fri, can you ask Kammy to make us sgetti tonight?”

“Will do, bugga-boo,” Friday said, not manifesting.

The rest of elevator ride was uncomfortable, or at least uncomfortable for Steve.

When the elevator doors opened Steve was greeted by more childish shrieks and laughter.

It was a madhouse. There was a mixture of children from a baby that was crawling around to a seven-year-old that was hitting the couch repeatedly with a whiffle bat. Among them was an assortment of creatures, half of which Steve didn’t recognize.

He gaped as an eight-legged horse shifted into a human teenager.

“Mom said I can get my learner’s permit if you promise to teach me to drive,” the teenager said, shifting on his (now) two feet as if he could barely contain himself.

“Teach you how to drive?” Tony scoffed. “I’m going to teach you how to zoom through traffic! Stick shift smoothly and pick up all the babes!” Tony reached over and ruffled his hair. The teenager blushed. “We’ll go at five. That should give me enough time to get back before Uncle Rhodey gets here. That work for you, Sleph?”

Sleph grinned brightly and gave Tony a hug. He took the infant from Tony’s arms and walked to the kitchen.

“You didn’t tell me we were having guests!” a voice screeched out and Steve froze when he saw Loki.

Tony chuckled and went over to the standing god. He gave him a kiss on the cheek. Tony leaned down to the sling around Loki’s middle that was carrying an egg that was as large as a basketball. Tony gave it a kiss.

Loki shifted his glass of wine (didn’t he know it was only ten in the morning?) to his other hand before swatting Tony on the shoulder.

“Anthony, you will give me proper advanced notice next time you bring someone over. I’m not dressed properly!” Loki tried smoothing down his long, frazzled hair, but it only caused something that looked like applesauce to smear. “Oh, it’s just him.”

Loki smoothly sat down on a couch. He shooed away the child that was hitting it with a whiffle bat. Something under Loki’s shirt shifted and Steve was reminded of the movie where aliens burst from humans’ chests.

Instead, a little black kitten poked its head out. Its mouth was wet with white liquid.

“Mommy,” the kitten said, surprising Steve for what felt like the hundredth time that day, “Sirkka keeps biting my tail!”

Loki pulled open the collar of his shirt and looked down it.

“That’s it! I’m weaning you two off! Out, out, out!”

“Noooooo!” twin voice cried out from Loki’s shirt.

Steve’s face screwed up at the absurdity of the situation.

“You heard your mother,” Tony said in a firm voice that Steve had never heard before. “Out before I pick you up by your scruffs.”

Two kittens, one black and the other brown hopped out of Loki’s shirt and onto the egg. One jumped into a bassinet that Steve hadn’t noticed before. The blue baby inside of it started crying.

Loki took a large gulp of wine and easily rocked the bassinet with his foot. The baby quieted down instantly.

Loki sighed happily.

“My babies are so perfect.” Loki took a sip of wine, his eyes glimmering with contentment.

“Our children are hellspawn,” Tony said while smirking.

“You and Loki are…” Steve couldn’t say the word.

“Do you seriously not watch the news?” Two children went by them, screaming bloody murder. Loki and Tony ignored them. “Whatever. Lokes, did Glubbington tell you what ze did?”

“No, ze did not! Glubbington, get in here!” Loki shouted, making Steve flinch.

“Ohhhh, someone’s in trouble~” a kid called out and a few others snickered.

The goo from before rolled in.

“Glub, glub,” it belched out and once again Steve was amazed by how much emotion it could convey. It somehow sounded remorseful.

“A likely story.” Loki held out his glass and Tony absentmindedly filled it with wine that Steve was certain cost more than a house. “Go to your room. You’re in charge of cleaning the bathrooms for a week.” The goo made a raspberry noise.

“No backtalk, youngling,” Tony said sharply, not raising his voice. Glubbington rolled off, but not before making a farting noise. Tony shook his head. “I swear he gets his attitude from you, Lokes.”

“Ha! As if!” Loki drank more of his wine. “What brings you to our humble tower, fellow-former-criminal?” Loki had a shit-eating grin and was still rocking the bassinet with his foot. The other kitten curled up on top of the egg, glaring at Steve the whole time.

Steve cleared his throat, trying to get his bearings. He was here for a reason.

He turned to Tony.

“Ah, yes, you see the thing is—”

“Talk to Loki. He’s in charge of finances even though I’m the one who makes all the money.” Tony sat on the couch by Loki and one of the kids threw herself onto his lap. He winced, but didn’t say anything, bouncing her on his knee.

Steve cleared his throat and turned to Loki, who somehow looked even more condescending than before.

“The Avengers are having a tough time with maintaining our gear and keeping the quinjet battle ready. The US hasn’t been helping up monetarily since the accords were put in place and with the different superhero teams around the world we only get a small fraction of what the UN pays.” Steve didn’t bring up how their wages were being garnished, too embarrassed to admit it. “I was hoping that Tony could find it in his heart to help us keep the US and the world safe by investing in us.”

“Such a pretty speech.” Loki put a hand on his chest and made a flourishing motion with his wine glass. “As a US citizen and citizen of the world I am moved.” Loki took a sip of his wine and seemed to be thinking it over. “That’s why Tony and I decided to invest in the Atlantic coast Avengers. We find Captain Marvel and her team to be much more reliable and exactly what the US needs what with all these new ‘villains’, but if you were perhaps to kneel and beg me on your knees I could allocate a few million for your team.”

Steve’s jaw automatically set stubbornly before he made himself breathe in through his nose. This wasn’t about Steve’s pride or Loki’s twisted sense of humor. Steve was doing this for his team. For America.

Steve went down onto his knees. Loki leaned forward looking more like the villain Steve had fought in Stuttgart.

“Please, Loki, can you find it in your heart to invest in me and my team?” Steve said through clenched teeth.

“Hmm,” Loki rubbed his jaw in thought. “Nope!”

There was a howl of laughter before Steve was teleported to the sidewalk outside of the tower.

[nhlhoser]

On The Rocks - 15

Part 14     Masterlist 

Word count: 2928

Minor swearing.

     The next morning my hands were stiff but not in pain, nothing ice and stretching won't fix. Throwing on sports bra and shorts, but deciding on a baggy shirt remembering that Mitch is here and not knowing who could appear knowing how these guys operate now, find one another one or ten isn't far.

   No one is up when I get to my kitchen prepping ice for my sore hand, pouring cold water into a couple bowl big enough to fit my hand and dumping in the ice and letting it sit as I set an alarm for ten minutes on my phone before submerging my whole hand wrist deep in the fridge's water making a chill run through my entire body.

"Fuck," I swear to clench my fist and unclenching start to stretch my hands as they sit in the water, it was painful at the beginning but numb halfway through.

"You're insane," Stephanie's morning voice shocks me, whipping my head to catch the blonde flopping on the couch with her eyes closed.

"My hands are sore and I wanna go to the gym after I make some food," I defended as the arm for the ice goes out as I gladly take my hands out and instantly dig them into a tea towel for warmth.

"Now, are you making food or are you making food for you?" Steph said now sitting up and eyebrows wag as she talked.

"Well, if you're hungry- which I'm not even gonna ask if you are because you are, but why are you up? You're aware is- 6:30 am," I noticed the time just now, making me question myself I planned on sleeping to 8. "I heard you get up and I thought it was later but I guess too late now," Steph shrugged knowing I'm not the early morning type but i guess today I am. Moving around the kitchen I turn on the coffee machine and get to work on omelets.

"Go see if Mitch wants food because he can have it hot now or cold later or not at all," I directed Steph sparing a brief glance her way to see her sluggishly getting up and make her way up the stairs before stopping and coming back down, a soft smile on her face, I eye her weirdly but i go back to cooking as she looks for something in the cabinets before making a yell of victory well holding up a food tray that has foldable legs.

"I am gonna be a cute girlfriend and bring him breakfast in bed, he's always mopey the morning after a loss," Stephanie frowned at the reminder of the loss last night,  smile fondly at the cuteness level of their relationship.

"That's so cute," Steph smile and giggle getting a protein shake ready as i did the omelets low-fat cheddar and spinach and all the little things Mitch needs and making Steph a simple cheese and ham.

"I am going down to the gym, so when you're done in there you'll know where I am," I told Steph as she balancing the try on the way up the stairs with a soft smile on her face and her eyes full of love and compassion for the boy she's about to spoil with breakfast in bed. She nods and disappears up the stairs, where I can hear the door open and her hushed voice before closing the door again, leaving me silently eating my omelet at the table as I scroll through my phone, answering emails from Todd and texts from my brother.

Setting my phone down and the silence really makes me reflect, having now been witness to possibly the cutest relationship in Toronto makes you really realize how much of a loner I am/was now being surrounded by hockey almost 24/7. My anti-social was have stopped me from experiencing something like what Mitch and Stephanie have and that thought makes my heartache.

"My period must come," I mumble cleaning my dishes and drying them. My period would explain the extra amount of loneliness. Shaking my head I get my stuff ready to go workout before going upstairs and when I pass Steph's room I could hear the giggles and laughs of the lovebirds making my heartache briefly, definitely period hormones.

I am sweaty and gross but I am having a great workout, this time when I snapped Steph I didn't include my body but a picture of the squat rack with my weights still on with captioned 'Gainz'. When I go to send it to Steph I also decide to send it to Morgan, William, and Auston. Remembering the time William and Auston scared me on the treadmill I took a photo of the treadmill and said 'Don't make me fall off this time' With a winky emoji. In response, I got the middle finger from William but Auston's made me blush.

'At least you got me to bed after ;)'

Referring to drugged me using Auston as a heater. Quickly tossing my phone on my towel I continued with my cardio before stopping halfway deciding to continue to run up the 20 flights of stairs to get my cardio because I hate running but not getting anywhere.

Getting back to my apartment, I'm gasping for air and out of the water. Entering my apartment I bypass the people in my living room before practically diving to my fridge for water and a Gatorade.

After chugging a bottle of water I'm aware of the people occupy big my couch, its the usual round of Toronto Maple Leafs players on my couch watching game tapes from last night.  There is about 8 players sprawl in front of my TV. Mitch, William, Kasperi, James, Morgan, Tyler Morgan, and James.

"Uhm Mitch, You're aware you don't live here, right?" I teased Mitch making all 8 Players turn my way. Mitch's cheeks turn the slightest bit red, Morgan reaches across William to smack the back of his head.

"Dude, you didn't even warn her that we'd be here?" William whines hitting his arm.

"It's okay," I said worriedly they might beat the poor kid up "but why here?" I questioned slightly annoyed by the intrusion but not enough to be mad.

"Well, Morgans is too small for all of us men,"  My eyebrows raise at the word 'men' from Mitch. I nodded with fake enthusiasm as I start to the stairs.

"Men? Where?" I chirped scanning the room with a smirk, as multiple pillows were thrown at me and protest can be heard about they're manliness.

"Fine, Tyler, James, and their children," With a wink I'm up to the stairs as i hear Steph crack up and the guy's protest but don't move. I pause at the top to take a photo of the grumpy lot for snapchat sending it to Auston. Slightly surprised he's not here.

I get a snapchat back of Auston smirking with my apartment door in the backroom.

'Partying without me? rude' I laughed at the snap as i enter my bathroom hooking my phone up to a speaker in my cabinet, playing classic rock and dancing my way through my room to my closet after closing my bedroom, grabbing towels and setting the shower to hot but locked the bathroom door before stepping in. My muscles melt under the hot water as I roll my shoulders.

Between songs, I can hear my bedroom door open and keep giggling. I smirked listening to the soft steps getting closer to the door before they try to open it but its locked.

"Damn it" Mitch's voice is muffled through the door "It's locked," he follows probably informing his back up.  Mummering is all I can hear when my music starts again, ignoring them I finished up in the shower before cutting the water, wrapping myself up in towel i turn off the music and quicken footsteps are heard down the stairs.

After changing into beige jeans and leafs sleeve shirt with staff on the back, I braid my hair and head downstairs to be greeted with the same grumpy face from earlier but none spare me a look or a work.

The silent treatment.

I guess my men comment made it to Auston because he glares at the TV when I enter but a smirk is tilting up on the corner of his lip and as everyone else, Rolling my eyes I pull out my phone and snap the grumpy faces it to them caption 'Children throwing a tantrum' before slipping my phone in my pocket as all their phones light up and Steph laughs from upstairs.

Keeping with the silent treatment none of them touch their phone, again rolling my eyes I check the time, seeing the time on the clock I start silently getting my stuff together, not caring that they are the ones doing the ignoring.

    Grabbing my bag I grab my keys before calling out to Steph, "Steph I'm leaving, I am probably going to class with Ricky after practice,". I hear Steph okaying and a whisper from William.

"Who the fuck is Ricky?"

Something unidentifiable in his tone but I continue getting things together and heading to the rink.

The practice was eventless, Babcock didn't overwork them despite the loss but because of the tougher game tomorrow against Pittsburgh, tension is definitely in the air and on the shoulder of all the players. Expectations weighing on players like Auston and Mitch both leading the team in points, pressure on the blue line guys like Gardiner and Rielly. The bruisers Polak and Martin are expected to shut down the other team and protect the team.

It was a lot of weight on the young team but they were using the pressure to propel them and work harder. It's amazing to see all the guys working hard on the ice as a team and as singular players, all honing their specialties that make them a unique player.

Auston, William, and Hyman working as a line to work out possible plays, James working on shots and deflection. Mitch was everywhere like he is on the ice, working on different things briefly and thoroughly.

As much as they can practice the game, things happen in the real game that you just can't expect or avoid, like rebounds no one is the same. Just have to do not think.

As the players made their way to the locker room, Babcock gives through orders of fuelling and resting for the game tomorrow.

Once off the ice, the insecurities of the young team become more visible, as the confidence they hold on the ice isn't as strong, looks of fear and stress set in on players like Mitch and William who's emotion can be read like a book. Auston and James look almost indifferent, in a good way. It's almost impossible to figure out what they are actually feeling but when Auston is alone, a layer of his stone exterior begins to crack as his posture slumps as his hands drag through his damp hair, his face in his hands, he screams stress and slight sadness but no one dares says anything.

Everyone knows what's on the line for tomorrow game but no one says it. They need to win tomorrow to clinch their playoff spot, that they're currently barely hanging onto.

As soon as the media is let in Auston mysterious disappears without a trace, clearly he didn't want the camera in his face. He's Auston Matthews the hot rookie who's breaking record nightly.

 Not really wanting to overthink more of the possible fate of my beloved Leafs tomorrow, I move from my spot in medical offices to the private therapy room, to find a stressed Auston Matthews laying on the table dressed in only a pair shorts leaving his toned upper half exposed, his eyes closed but his face is scrunched up in worry.

Approaching his head carefully and silently, I beginning to softly work my fingers under his neck, release the tension before resting a pillow under his neck for support. He instantly tenses but softens again as my hands working up his neck and onto his temples massage the stress lines on his forehead making his face go slack.

"Let's not think about what everyone wants from you, okay?" I whispered. He hums in agreement.

"Right, you're just Auston the kid that loves hockey," my hands smooth over the tight muscles in his shoulders, I move my hands up his neck and rub behind his ears, release more tension.

"Think about what you want, out loud or in your head, it's whatever you'd like," I smoothed the skin of his jaw as he clenches it thinking but unclenching. To no surprise, he remained silent but his body relaxing more and more.

"That's it just relax," I ran my hands down his arms coaxing the subconscious tension out of them and then down his legs working the tight muscles to relax like the rest of him is. I work on the pressure points of his feet.

"Deep breathes," I massaged the side of his knee as his chest rose and fell with each breathes getting deeper and his face and body getting limper.

Little did he know he just meditated.

Getting a soft blanket from the cabinet, I carefully lay it over his sleeping body. He's face free of all stress making him look young like that he. He's completely passed out with soft snores drifting pass his lips occasionally.

Carefully closing the door as I exit the quiet room to the loud room of restless hockey players getting their things together or getting worked on by the therapists. A lot of the Vets are already gone with the exception of Morgan whose taping his sticks intently glaring at the blade, clearly his mind elsewhere than here.

Mitch and William are chatting with each other in hushed tones and rapid hand gestures, passing them they hand gestures die down.

Oh yeah, they're mad at me.

"Where's Matts?" Mitch asked standing from his gossip session looking around to Auston's empty stall.

"He probably still hiding from the media," Frederick Anderson said exiting the room with his jacket done up tight. He leaves with a wave.

I busy myself with cleaning up the Physio room as the boys discuss where Auston is hiding, little do they know he's sleeping in the next room. They don't wanna talk, I won't either.

It's a half hour later that I decide to wake up Auston, everyone but Mitch, William and Kasperi have left.

Slipping into the room, Auston light snores are the sound in the room. Gently running my fingers through Auston's dark hair, pulling the strains from his face.

"Auston," I whispered still running my fingers through his silky hair, his face starts to shows signs of life as his eyebrows twitch but he makes no move to wake up.

"Auston, it's time to go Home," I tried again but nothing.

"Auston," I said louder as I poked his cheek roughly, his eyes open in shock.

"Welcome back," I teased still combing his hair. A dopey smile makes its way to Auston's face.

"I feel so good, what the hell did you do to me?" He questioned with a yawn as he sat up slowly, letting the blanket drop to his waist expose his muscular stomach that tightens when he stretched his arms, I carefully drag my eyes away from his body and into his eyes as he looks up.

"That is guided meditation,"

"And a nap," I added with a dumb smile.

Auston smiles then frown and then serious, he scratches the back of his neck nervously, getting up from the massage table, I toss the blanket in the hamper.

"Thank you, Amelia," Auston said purposely making eye contact and hold it, his eyes holding the intensity of his words.

"It's nothing really Auston, whatever helps you; whether it be helping you as a player or as a person," I said honestly, Auston nodded with s thoughtful look on his face.

" I know that whether I'm Auston Mathews the kid from the sand strip or Auston Matthews 1st round draft pick, we both want to win and have fun doing it," A goofy grin spreads across his face and all of sudden I'm being pulled into him as he wraps his arms around my neck and shoulders, it takes me a moment to return the embrace wrapping my arms around his waist he squeezes me closer.

"I felt the need to hug you," Auston whispered rest his chin on my shoulder as I rest my head on his shoulder just being tall enough to do so without any strain as we hold each other silently but I pull away first from the embrace.

"You should probably go out there, they've been wondering where you are," I said nodding out to wear Mitch and William can be heard goofing off.

"Why didn't you just tell them I was here?" Auston shakes his head as I shrug.

"Well, they would have woken you up and also they're giving me the silent treatment," I said opening the door and pushing Auston into the other room, who are instantly brought into whatever the goofs were talking about.

Not wanting to dwell on the interaction with Auston I get my things together from the medic office and a goodbye over my shoulder to who's listening, Mitch and William holding strong on no talking.

See how long that lasts.

NEXT

[thegoddamnfangirl]

Friday Night

Pairings- Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings- Attempted fluff.

It started when your favorite TV show changed its timings.

  Now, you had to work at four in the evening, and couldn’t be watching TV at that time. Even though new episodes aired once a week on Fridays, it wasn’t worth your hide playing hooky- you worked for Nick Fury, directly under Steve Rogers. And paperwork sucked, but all the Avengers had to do it. Well, except Tony, he paid Peter to do his.

  Your only other option was to stay up Friday night and catch the show’s repeat at one am. 

  So at half past twelve you settled down in the huge living area of the Avengers compound, with plenty of candy, a fluffy pillow and a blanket.

  Bucky woke up screaming, as usual. 

 He found himself sitting up in bed, gasping for breath, his mind a mess of broken images and chants of “Heil Hydra!”

  He calmed himself down, thinking peaceful thoughts, thinking of Steve’s smiling face, thinking of...well, her.  His breathing evened, and he lay back down, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to get to sleep again. 

  He got out of bed- a stroll might help him a bit. He liked walking about in the cool building at night; it was quiet, and he could go anywhere he wanted without the fear of running into Tony Stark.

 Wandering in the halls, he noticed a light from under the door of  the sitting area.

Someone must’ve forgotten to turn it off. Bucky pushed open the door- he was met with noise from the TV and the sight of a sleeping (y/n) , curled up on her own on the couch with a blanket.

  Looking at her, Bucky found himself letting out a small, wistful sigh.

(y/n) mumbled something under her breath. She looked cramped and uncomfortable on the couch, unable to stretch out her legs.

  Bucky debated whether to wake her up, but decided not to when a slightly thrilling idea came into his mind.

  Slowly, with the stealth of the master assassin that he was, he crept over to (y/n) and slipped his arms around her. She didn’t wake up- good.

  He lifted her up easily, and carried her to her room.

She fitted perfectly in his arms. As Bucky nudged the door to her room open with his foot, he realized he really didn’t want to set her down on her bed. He liked her where she was. 

  He set her gently down on the bed, and drew the covers around her, pushing a few strands of hair away from her sleeping face. 

  Suddenly, without thinking about what he was doing, he leaned down and softly brushed his lips against hers.

  His head jerked back- he watched her face in trepidation, scared that she might wake up. But she didn’t.

Saturday morning! You woke up feeling well-rested and refreshed- ready to start your day.

  Nah, just kidding. You woke up cranky and exhausted, and rolled over to try and sleep some more, wrapped up in your covers like a giant burrito.

  Which was when it came to you that you didn’t remember coming up to bed last night. No, the last thing you remembered was struggling to keep your eyes open till the end of the show, before tumbling over yourself and falling asleep on the couch. 

  That was....odd.

  But as you got up and washed, heading down to breakfast, it slipped from your mind, because the only one in the kitchen was Bucky.

  He was making pancakes, and was very much absorbed. You drew yourself a chair to admire his robed figure, internally giggling- that happened whenever you were around him. You internally giggled.

 He suddenly stiffened, as if aware of your presence. 

“Morning, (y/n) ,” he said, with his back still turned.

“Morning, Buck,” you said, stifling a yawn. “Did you sleep well? Didn’t get up and wander about at night again, did ya?”

  Bucky flinched and turned to you. “W-why do you ask that?” he asked, his face red.

  “Er- cause I’ve seen you wandering about once or twice? You okay, Buck?”

“Yeah,” was his curt reply.

Friday night became a routine for Bucky.

   Every Friday night, he would find her sleeping peacefully on the couch, looking beautiful in her sleep. He would carry her to her room, sneak a kiss, and leave.

Kissing her in her sleep? Alright, that was very creepy of him,  Bucky would admit to himself. But every time he set her down on her bed, looking at her peaceful sleeping face and brushing some hair out of it- he couldn’t help giving her a small kiss.

  He longed to kiss her properly, deeply. To put his arms around her, hold her slender waist tightly against himself with one hand in her gorgeous hair, her legs wrapped around his waist, his tongue exploring her mouth....

   Thoughts like these normally led to some very, very nice dreams for Bucky, which he relished after all his nightmares.

   Fast forward to most recent Friday night, after about two months from the beginning of the whole thing. (y/n) never seemed to question how she always found herself in bed in the morning, in fact, she even sort of anticipated it. She had no idea who was behind it, and she even considered the possibility of a phantom who had taken a liking to her.

  Bucky had just put her down on the bed, and he leaned down for his kiss. Little did he know, a certain redhead had stopped by the open door, witness to the whole thing.

  Nat really liked playing matchmaker. It wasn’t a hobby someone would peg on her, her being, well, her, but Nat really, really liked playing matchmaker. Setting people up. That sort of thing.

  She wouldn’t lie if asked point blank- she wasn’t exactly comfortable around Bucky. Given their...brief encounter which she called history, it was understandable that she didn’t really want to trust him.

  But she was also a huge believer in second chances. And with what happened to Bucky, if anyone deserved a second chance, a good shot at happiness, it was him.

  She grinned to herself the next morning as she headed over to  some rooms.

“Morning, Buck-o,” you said, getting yourself a mug of coffee.

  “Morning, (y/n) ,” Bucky replied with a small smile.

“ (y/n) ! Good morning, beautiful!” 

  You turned around in surprise to see Sam coming into the kitchen, smiling at you.

   “Morning, Sam,” you said, smiling back.

“You look good,” he said. “Sleep well?”

“Yeah,” you replied.

 Sam kept up a pleasant conversation with you as he got his coffee. He had just finished his morning run with Steve, and was teasing you lightly about how little you worked out.

 Bucky was sitting on the table. He had finished his breakfast long ago, but he showed no intention of budging from his place, opting to glare fixedly at you and Sam instead.

You were laughing at something Sam was saying, when Sam shot Bucky a- smug? A smug grin. You didn’t notice this, but you did notice that it seemed like…It seemed like Sam was flirting with you!

 “So, anyway, (y/n) ,” Sam said, tearing away from the quiet staredown he was having with Bucky. “Would you be free tonight for, say, some dinner? Just you and me.”

 This took you by surprise. You were about to reply when the sound of something shattering interrupted you.

 Bucky, who had been clutching his empty mug with his metal hand, had squeezed so hard that he had broken the mug.

 “Bucky, are you okay?” you asked in concern.

 He didn’t reply- he just gave you a funny look and gathered up the broken bits of ceramic in his hand, chucked them away and stormed out of the kitchen.

  You stared after him, disconcerted.

Later that morning, you went to the gym for your daily workout (contrary to what Sam said, you did workout, only not as much as he did).

 Bucky’s workout sessions always clashed with yours. It was a funny coincidence, you thought, albeit a very welcome one.

 He was on the bench press when you came in, lifting weights with his flesh arm. You gave him a smile, which he returned, much to the delight of the fluttery feeling in your stomach.

 You were about to plug your earphones in your ears and get on the treadmill, but you heard Thor’s voice calling your name.

 Thor was hurrying into the gym, his face looking a bit flushed.

“Lady (y/n) ,” he said, beaming at you.

“Thor,” you nodded, smiling.

 “Lady  (y/n) , I wish to ask you something,” he said.

“Go ahead, Sunshine,” you said. His face brightened up when you used your nickname for him.

 “M’lady, I was wondering if you were free to lunch with me today?” Thor asked. Was it just you, or did he look…coquettish?

 “Erm- yeah, sure, Thor,” you said nevertheless, sure that he wanted to talk to you about something or the other, or that maybe he got bored of the others.

 He looked sufficiently delighted, and left the gym promising you a wonderful afternoon, besides winking at you once or twice.

  You glanced over at Bucky absentmindedly, to see a slightly bent barbell.

Bucky stepped out of the gym showers, aggressively drying his hair with his towel. He saw (y/n) heading out of the ladies’ locker room, and wondered if he should go over and talk to her. His gaze was fixed on her shapely red lips.

(y/n) was looking at her phone, smiling. He headed out towards her, and she looked up and saw him, the smile still on her face.

 “Hey, Buck,” she said as he walked with her.

“ (y/n) ,” he said. “Uh, it’s none of my business, but what were you smiling at? I’m just curious.”

(y/n) shrugged.

“It’s funny, everyone’s being extraordinarily nice to me today. I was just texting with Clint and he called me beautiful.”

 “That’s cause you are beautiful,” Bucky blurted out, his insides all ablaze with jealousy. He suddenly felt furious at Sam, Thor and Clint.

(y/n) blushed and bit her lower lip. “Thanks, B-bucky,” she said with a giggle.

“So, uhm, you’re seeing Thor for lunch, huh?” he prodded.

(y/n) nodded.

“You like Thor?”

 She gave him a funny look.

“He’s a great friend,” she answered simply.

 “Hey, Buck,” she said suddenly. “Could I ask you something?”

“Sure, shoot.”

“When you wander about at night- don’t deny it, I know you do, a lot- do you see someone else, too? Only, every Friday night I fall asleep on the couch, and someone puts me in bed at night. I’ve tried staying awake to see who does it, but I just can’t defy sleep, and Friday-Friday the AI- acts all coy when I ask her and avoids answering.”

 Bucky hoped she didn’t notice him start.

“Well, I see Sam about pretty often ,” he said. It wasn’t exactly a lie- Sam often got hungry in the middle of the night, and they invariably bumped into each other.

“Sam! Well, I might ask him about it during dinner tonight,” (y/n)  said determinedly.

Bucky and Sam had never really gotten along, but before this moment, Bucky hadn’t ever had an urge to pick Sam up and fling him far, far away from the Avengers Base.

Bucky had fumed the entire day. He had gone to bed fuming. (y/n) had been on two- two! Two entire! Two whole!- dates that day. He hadn’t, fortunately, had any nightmares, but he had had a dream where he and Steve were burying Sam alive while Thor had been planted in the soil for a grave marker.

 He was sulking to himself during breakfast as (y/n) came down as usual. He passed her a mug of coffee silently.

 She looked happy. Bucky clenched his teeth, wondering how the dates had gone.

“You know, my date just went great,” she said.

 “Oh,” said Bucky. A moment ago, he was feeling defiant and annoyed. Now he just felt upset.

“Oh, yeah, Sam is just dreamy when he tries!” (y/n) sighed.

 It was then that Steve walked in.

“O-oh! Hey, (y/n) ,” he said, fidgeting a bit.

“Hey, Steve. You okay?” (y/n) asked. Steve hadn’t even noticed Bucky.

“N-nothing,” Steve mumbled, hurriedly going to the fridge and getting some milk.

“Steve?” (y/n) asked, still concerned.

 “How did your date with Sam go, (y/n) ?” Steve asked.

“It went great!” (y/n) said brightly.

Steve’s face fell. “Oh. Then, I don’t suppose you’d say yes to going out with me tonight?”

   That was just about as much as Bucky could handle.

“Why is everyone asking (y/n) out all of a sudden? Steve? Steven? Steven Grant Rogers? How can you, you of all people, you know I like her!” he burst out.

 Steve grinned.

Bucky stood there, gaping like a fish, dreading having to turn and look at (y/n)’s face.

A different- much hated- voice from behind him forced him to turn.

“He did it! Finally, I was sick of all of his pining looks.”

“Sam?” Bucky asked sourly, staring at him to avoid looking at  (y/n).

 “Yep,” Sam popped the ‘p’, going over to Steve and high-fiving him.

 “What is going on here?” Bucky cried out.

“Don’t you get, Buck?” said (y/n)   happily. “It was all a set-up to make you jealous and somehow goad you into asking me out. Nat put the boys up to it. I didn’t know till my ‘date’ with Sam last night, that’s when he told me.”

 Bucky felt hot around his neck.

“S-so, er, (y/n),” he began.

 “Don’t,” she cut him off. “You don’t need to say things. I’ve got a nice way of putting it- you can kiss me when I’m awake, now. That’s right, I figured it out.”

tags-

@ncoleys

[imagine-that-one-thing]

No Pain No Gain

Authors Note: I know these prompts are short and you guys have requsted they be longer, but I just keep going blank. Sorry!! Enjoy my lovelies. Xx

It’s in the hours that you label as ‘dreadful’ that you feel the covers being extracted off of your warm body, the encouragement of Harry’s voice drawing your eyes open while the first ray of sun peeks through the curtains.

“Go away,” you mumble into your pillow, drowsily yanking the covers over your body. Not even a second later Harry extracts the covers back off you, dragging them to the floor, “I fucking hate you.” You choose a phrase of words that aren’t too pleasant, but you’re not too fond of early morning wake up calls so you feel as though your choice of words is justified. 

“Oi, that’s not nice.” He shakes his head, your hand shielding your eyes from the small ray of light forcing itself in the room, “c'mon my love, up and Adam. We have a workout to complete.” He advocates, benevolently pressing his hand to your exposed thigh, 

“What time is it?” Your tired voice questions, your eyes rubbing the sleep from your exceeding slumberous eyes. 

“Six-thirty, I’ve already been up for an hour. Come on, you can sleep after our workout. Now, up.” He kindly demands with a little hint of dominance to his voice, doing his best to keep in mind that you absolutely despise mornings and can be remarkably sullen when woken up. 

You stretch your body out within the bed, mentally striving to convince yourself to get up and complete the workout Harry is determined for you to complete. 

“Can I have a cheat day?” You mumble, sitting up and welcoming the pain from yesterday’s ab workout, “my stomach muscles hurt.” You sulk while he leans against the dresser, surveilling you to make sure you don’t try to back to sleep while he does something in the mean time— he learnt that the hard way. 

“Yeah you can have a cheat day,” he nods, “we aren’t doing abs, so you’re off the hook. It’s leg day.” He continues, only causing you to frown. 

Leg day is worse than any other day especially with him. 

With a dense pout and a few whines, you force yourself out of bed and dress for the torture you’re about to be inflicted upon. 

Harry does not waste time once you step foot in the gym that he becomes the king of when it comes time to push you into a workout.

“C'mon, baby, make up for the five minutes you made us late.” Harry orders, pushing you to do body weight squats, “ten sets of ten, come on.” He proceeds, and you do as you’re instructed, feeling the weight of your body while doing a number of squats needed to make up for you wasting that five minutes whimpering and asking for a cheat day. 

You complete the ten sets of ten and place your hands on your hips, waiting for him to reveal what he has next on the list of torment for you. 

When you made the New Years resolution to stay fit and attend regular gym sessions, you didn’t think your boyfriend of four years would actually keep you on track of fulfilling your goal, you figured it was just another ridiculous resolution to go down in the history of resolutions that stay incomplete. 

Despite the fact he sometimes tortures you and makes you regret every decision of even thinking about a carb, he’s a highly skilled trainer and person of encouragement, he’s sensitive enough to even do the workouts with you— unless of course you’re being punished, then he pushes you to do them on your own. He’s hard as hell on you, and doesn’t take it when you grumble or complain, he’s a hard-ass but it’s for good reason. If he wasn’t, you’d have it your way and your resolution would be just that— an outspoken resolution that held no significance what so ever.

After various different leg positions and workouts; band-hip-adductions, lying leg curls, glute kick backs, jump rope, and the dreaded step climb, you find yourself perching yourself on the floor, your arms pressed behind you as you take in deep breaths to relax, your muscles tingling and beginning to ache already. 

You take deep breaths, watching as Harry pours you a glass of water, “My body hurts.” 

“Here,” he hands you a glass of water, “I’m going to be on your ass all day about keeping hydrated, I know how you get.” He adds as you take the cool glass and drink the water, your eyes admiring his toned body, his t-shirt clinging to his body in all the right places, his gym shorts exposing his long legs that have managed to design themselves a bit of a tan line. 

“Also, what is the rule about complaining?” He raises a brow,

“The more I complain the more you will make me workout.”

“Exactly, do you want to do more squats?”

“No.” You mutter, eyeing him as he winks cheekily.

You place the glass of water to the side, tilting your head as Harry watches over you, “So, when do I get to torture you?” You question, taking nice steady breaths to come back from the heavy workout forced upon you. He rolls his eyes with a small chuckle, amused by your comment, 

“Babe, I’ve been doing this for a while, I can do what you just did without complaining.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“You want to control one of my workouts?” He raises a brow, his eyes full of amusement while he proceeds to gaze down at you. You give him a nod, curious as to whether he will give you the opportunity to control one of his workouts. He hums an mhm, before pressing his head into a nod, “okay, tomorrow morning. You’ll have to be up and ready by five.” He announces, your eyes growing wide at the concept of getting out of bed at five in the morning. 

“Uhm, can we possibly make it five in the afternoon?” You cheekily grin, having no desire to wake up at an ungodly hour. The damn chirpy birds aren’t even awake and chirping at that time of day. 

“Mmmm fine, but you still owe me five more squats for quitting yesterday.” He reminds you of the whining and battle you put up yesterday during the session. 

You were convinced he was trying to tear you apart, he was being brutal yesterday. 

“Harry, please.” You sulk with a sigh, hoping your soft, charming eyes can captivate him enough to let you off the hook. 

“Alright, only because you did an excellent job today, see how much easier it is if you don’t quit and whine?” He squats down to your level, placing a tender kiss to your warm cheek, 

“You were being brutal yesterday. Someone clearly pissed in your cheerios before I woke up.” You mumble, taking another sip of the cool water, feeling a little more relaxed than previously. 

“Y/N, no pain no gain.” He informs you of the all so typical comment that everyone receives when they’re in pain after some sort of exercise. 

“Whatever, guessing I’m not getting blueberry pancakes for brunch?” You deviously grin, trying to entice him with a delicious brunch to make-up for your work out. 

“It’s Friday.. so, cheat day?” He winks, prying a smile from your lips, 

“See, that’s the kind of man I love.”

“So, you don’t like me as a coach?" 

"No, you’re a fucking pushy arse who likes to kill my body.”

“Ye’ such a whine, come on and let’s get some food, I’m hungry.” He stands to his feet and you hold your arms up for him to help you up.

He glances down at you, his eyes staring into yours, promptly switching from 'trainer’ to 'boyfriend’ as his hands press with yours and he gingerly pulls you to your feet, “You good?” He thoughtfully questions, you nod and hum as you take his hand,

“Can we get chocolate coated pancakes?” You beam, craving the need for chocolate. 

“What trainer 'Harry’ doesn’t know won’t hurt him, let’s go, love.” He gives in, having a little soft spot when it nears the weekend. But, you know come Monday evening when he gets off work, he is more than likely going to run you until he thinks you’re reaching you maxing point.

List of my other Prompts found HERE

[kindly-creatot]

first date frappe

so this is a continuation of this coffee shop/college au for dash/danny.

its the first date, so enjoy. c:

Danny didn't think this through. Like most things, he went in head first, brain second. Star was happily taking care of the customers that lined up at the register as Danny made drinks and called them out without much thought to it. Most of his brain power was going to be used up on figuring out what the hell he and Dash were going to do on this date. Star had taken over the playlist for the shop and was now playing cheesy love songs as they worked and would not change it no matter how much Danny begged.

"It's my turn to pick the music today, anyways," Star said with a grin. "Plus you're going on a date with one of my best friends," and that's right. Star is best friends with Dash and dating Kwan.

"Yeah, about that… what does he like to do?" Danny grins sheepishly at her and she gives him a look like she's not impressed. Danny can't blame her, he's not impressed either.

"Well, go to dinner, duh. You're getting off work and you're gonna be hungry," Star tells him with a 'duh' look and Danny frowns at her for a second before calling out the next drink. He feels his phone go off in his back pocket and he grabs it to see an unknown number on the screen with a new text.

unknown number hey, its dash

Danny smiles before replying to the number.

pic or its not real

He was surprised when it took a minute for the reply. He gets a message as he's finishing up a frappe for another blonde girl in yoga pants and calls that out before checking his phone. He chokes on a breath for a second before he takes a deep breath and looks at the picture that Dash had sent once more. It was a typical gym selfie, Dash standing in front of some machine and flexing an arm with a wide grin and phone in the other hand. Danny had to admit that Dash was fit. He had on a loose white tank, slightly stained from sweat, and what Danny guessed were black shorts. Kwan was in the background too and looked like he was posing mockingly behind the blonde.

real enough? ;)

And Danny thought, yeah that's real enough. He felt a stupid smile slip onto his lips as he typed out a reply to the other boy. Sam was laughing at something behind him in her booth. He glances back and Star is over there showing her phone to the goth. How they became friends was beyond Danny, but Sam did spend a large amount of time here  when Tuck and him worked.

"What're you guys laughing at?" Danny asks and leans over the bar top to try and see the blonde girls phone. She shows him the phone and it's a snapchat of Kwan's face as he focuses on Dash behind him, taking the selfie he just sent to Danny. There's a caption on the bottom part of it that says 'when ur bro has a reason to take gym selfies u g2 mock'

Star gets another notification for snapchat as Danny's looking at this one and switches to the new one from Kwan and it's now a pic of a blushing Dash yelling at Kwan, who looks like he's dying of laughter. 'got caught #ohshit'.

Danny can't help but laugh at that and Star looks at him before looking at his unlocked phone on the counter top. She grabs it quicker then he thought she could move, Sam holds out her hand and scrolls through the phone for them to look through as Danny squawks about privacy. Star and Sam find the pic easily and let out what Danny understands as a squee when they see the pic Dash sent.

"Guys, come on, give me my phone back," Danny reaches out to grab it as he feels the blush creeping up his cheeks. It's not that he has to hide anything, Sam's already seen him at his worst growing up. He knew what Sam was doing too. Setting that pic as his contact number and his backgrounds on his phone.

Well, jokes on her, Danny thought, was gonna make Dash his background anyways.

"Seriously, chill, Danny. Just messing around," Sam gave him a toothy grin and he felt even more wary of what was going on now. As soon as the raven haired boy got his phone back he looked through to see if she had texted the blonde or done something stupid. She hadn't so he gave her a look and went back to wiping down counters and texting Dash. -----

7pm rolled around too quickly, or not quick enough. Danny wasn't sure yet. His stomach was turning into a cage for butterflies and he was sure there was a permanent blush on his cheeks as Star kept giving him sideways glances like she knew something. As Tucker came in for his night shift he looked between Danny and Star with a questioning look but didn't comment on anything as he pulled on his apron. Danny sighs and pulls his own apron off, signing out of the register and grabbing his messenger bag.

As he's walking out to the sidewalk, a car pulls up in front of the shop and Danny is struck by the picture it creates. It's a beautifully restored classic, '67 Ford Mustang Fastback with a white paint job and two red stripes down the middle. It's made better when Dash comes out of the drivers side, smiling and blushing. Danny can't help but smile back stupidly until he hears Star call out to them.

"Have fun on your guys date!" and Danny glares at the girl as Dash brings a hand to cover his face. Tucker looks shocked for a moment before Star leans over to him and Danny assumes that she's telling him everything. He looks back at Dash shyly.

"Let's leave while we still can. She'll want pictures like it's prom if we don't go now," Danny tells him and jerks a thumb at the two behind him.

"Uh, yeah, let's go," Dash walks around to the other side of the car and opens the door before Danny can reach it and it makes Danny chuckle. "What?"

"Oh, uh. Well, you just didn't strike me as a 'open the door for a date' kinda person. It's nice," Danny tells him and takes a seat in the car. He takes the moment between when Dash shuts the door and walks over to the drivers side to take in what he's wearing. It's a simple outfit, jeans and, what Danny can only assume, is one of his nicer shirts. Its black and form fitting to his torso, showing off hard worked muscles. He's still staring at the blonde when he sits himself in the drivers seat. Bright eyes catch his own and Danny blushes at being caught.

"I got something on my face?" Dash looks in his rear view mirror for a second before blushing and looking back at Danny. "What?"

"Nothing, you just… you look good," Danny says it softly and hoped that Dash couldn't hear him but when he looked at the blonde, he was grinning again. "Also this car is amazing,"

"Thanks, I uh, well Kwan and I rebuilt it together. I got the frame from my uncle and we just went from there," Dash smiles at fond memories and Danny can see the pride flowing from him. It's the most adorable thing Danny has seen.

"Show me how she drives then," Danny tells him and leans back in his seat, bag by his feet and seatbelt secure. Dash looks at him for a minute, probably wondering why Danny even wanted him to just drive around. "Let's drive,"

"Okay," Dash replies and turns over the ignition, engine growling awake and radio turning on softly as they start away from the shop. With the windows rolled down the breeze feels good in the early summer heat they've been having. Danny closes his eyes and leans to the side with a smile. He hums in contentment, his arm hanging on the window sill and hand running along the wind.

Danny opens his eyes again and looks over to see Dash watching him with a look he can't quite read. It makes him queasy in the best way.

"So… what're you studying?" Dash asks him as they tour the town.

"Astrobiology as my major, with a minor in Astronomy," Danny answers  slightly uneasily. His interests have led to more then one date getting bored by him. Astronomy was simple, people liked stars. It was the Astrobiology that turned people away, being that it expanded the thinking that there was something else out there and he wanted to know if life outside Earth was possible and where it came from.

"Holy crap, really? Now I just feel lazy," Dash laughs loudly and Danny smiles. "So what is astrobiology?"

"The definition is "The exploration of life outside of Earth and to the investigation of the origin and early evolution of life on Earth.”… but that's a kinda boring way of saying it," Danny searched Dash's face for a reaction and waited as he thought about something.

"So… you like aliens and the Big Bang theory?" Dash asks simply and Danny can't help but laugh at it.

"Yeah, that's probably the most basic way of saying it.. Uhm, what're you studying?"

"Oh, Sports Med. I have a full ride scholarship to play football and so I figured I might as well keep my major in the sports field," Dash shrugs and they stop at a red light so he turns to Danny. "You hungry? There's a burger joint that's pretty good,"

"As long as it's not Nasty Burger," Danny laughs at the hometown burger joint he grew up with until he notices the look Dash is giving him. "What?"

"You had a Nasty Burger in your town? I thought my hometown was the only one with that shithole," Dash laughs.

"Yeah, like Amity Park would have a classy burger joint anywhere near it," Danny laughs.

"You grew up in Amity Park? That's where I'm from!" Dash is grinning and Danny can't believe it.

"What? No way! We're from the same hometown? How'd that even happen?" Seriously, what were the odds that he and Dash were from the same town? Slim to none. A car behind them honked and they both looked to the green light turning yellow now and Dash sped off from the angry person behind them with the boys both laughing.

"Shit, that guy was mad," Dash laughed as they pulled into the drive thru of the burger place. "You mind drive thru? There's a place we can go to eat,"

"Nah, it's cool. I can pay," Danny offers, pulling his wallet from his bag. Dash looks like he wants to fight it but doesn't as they pull up to the speaker box. Getting the food was quick and Dash looked a little sour when Danny gave his card to pay for the food but still said nothing. Passing Danny the food and drinks, Dash thanked the person with a dazzling grin and then drove off with Danny laughing at the blonde.

"What're you laughing at, punk?" Dash gave him a sidelong glance as he shifted gears.

"Nothing, just thinking you gotta be careful with that smile of yours. You kinda blindside people with it," Danny tells him and snags a fry from the bag. "You have this like… resting bitch face and then 'bam!' you grin at them and they melt,"

"I don’t have a resting bitch face, you do," Dash laughs at the mocking outrage face Danny shoots him and turns onto a backroad. It trails on for a while and Danny watches the sun start to sink in the sky.

"Okay, maybe we should agree to disagree, but I'm sure most people would think we both do," Danny admits with a smirk. "I mean, just think about the first time I met you. Walk in the café and say I don't know how to make a drink," the raven haired boy laughs as Dash turns a quizzical look to him.

"That wasn't the first time we met," he tells Danny and pulls to a stop near some trees and a picnic table. It’s the picturesque view of the town below. Like a scene out of a romance movie, it's the hill side picnic area, sunset in the background and the town below far away. "You don't know when we first met!" Dash laughs at the raven and gets out of the car with the drinks.

"What do you mean? I would have noticed you if we had classes together…" Danny tries to think back hard now and follows Dash to the picnic table with food.

"Wow, seriously," the blonde looks like he's having too much fun torturing the smaller male as he sips his soda. "We lived down the hall from each other freshman year. You once knocked on my door in nothing but a towel because you locked yourself out of your dorm and your roommate wasn't in. You had me jimmy your door open because Kwan told you I figured out a way to open all the doors in the hall with just a bobby pin and knife,"

"OH. MY. GOD. No, nonono. That cannot be the first time. I refuse," Danny could feel the full body flush taking over at the memory. He covers his face with his hands as he groans and Dash laughs at him. "That just… no. Nope, that did not happen…"

"I wanted to ask you out but as soon as I opened your door, you walked in and slammed it in my face," Dash was smiling at Danny from across the table. How was this his life? He's spent the last three years of his college life trying to forget about that moment because he was so embarrassed to ask that of the cutest guy in his dorm and freaked out.

"I thought that would have been a deal breaker," Danny tells him as he takes his hands off his face but doesn’t drop them, his shield. Dash laughs out loud and Danny feels large hands clasp gently around his wrists to pull them away gently. Dash is looking at him with a grin that could melt the even the coldest heart and a blush of his own.

"I found out from Star that you worked at the coffee shop and tried to work up the courage to go in there and ask you out since I've known about it," he admits with a shrug.

"It took you three years to tell me to date you?" Danny asks with a smirk. The blonde playfully growls but smiles at Danny. "We're both kinda messes, huh?"

"Just means we're gonna get along just fine," Dash tells him and Danny can't help the stupid smile on his face. "We can be messy together,"

"That is soooo cheesy, Dash," Danny barks out a laugh and Dash throws a fry at him as he blushes and frowns.

"Eat your burger and enjoy this romantic view, you jerk," Dash makes a face and Danny starts to like Dash even more as he watches the blonde eat for a moment before digging into his own food. -----

Danny sat in the passenger seat of Dash's car as it was parked in front of the apartment that Danny shared with Tucker and Sam. He was waiting, not sure for what but he wanted to stay in this moment a bit longer. Danny liked this moment in time specifically.

Dash was in the driver's seat, talking about something that happened in class the other day with Kwan and Danny had found out that when Dash talks, he talks with his hands. The raven haired boy was comfortable in Dash's letterman jacket, the blonde had offered it when it got cold outside and Danny had instantly taken up the offer of it, memorizing the scent of it.

"I guess… we should call it a night?" Dash was looking up at the apartments with a look on his face that Danny wasn't sure how to read yet. His hands gripped the steering wheel lightly and the street lights cast a sort of glow on his face that made Danny want to take a picture.

"I guess… I, uh, had a really good time, Dash," he speaks softly, like it's gonna break him to leave the car.

"I did too, Danny… maybe we could… we could do something this weekend? If you're not busy?" Dash doesn’t look at him and bites his bottom lip.

"I'd like that," he gets a glance from bright eyes and rosy cheeks. "A lot,"

"Good, good… Good," Dash nods his head and breaths deep, like he's preparing himself for something. Danny's got a hand on the door, squeezing the handle and grabbing his bag as he turns to face Dash and say goodnight. The blonde reaches for Danny though and wraps a hand around the back of his head to smash their faces together in a sort of kiss. Danny blinks once and then closes his eyes, sighing into the kiss and smiling against the lips on his. Dash pulls away after a moment but doesn’t let Danny go. "Was that… was that okay? To do?"

"Well, I would have been severely disappointed in the both of us if we didn't kiss goodnight," Danny says with a smirk. Dash rolls his eyes and leans back in for a chaste kiss. "I do have a test tomorrow though… So I should probably go,"

"Yeah," another kiss. "Probably," Dash agrees and once more leans in for a kiss before Danny breaks it and opens the car door. Danny smiles against his lips and starts to lean away.

"This is me," kiss. "Leaving," kiss. "Really…" kiss. Danny breaks away again and actually gets a foot out before he looks back up at Dash's face. He's beaming that megawatt smile again and Danny bites his bottom lip, already missing the feeling of Dash's warm hand in his hair. "Night, Dash,"

"Night, Danny," the blonde makes no move to stop him this time as he actually makes it out of the car, grabbing his bag to sling it across his body. He shuts the door and heads to the passcode locked door before he looks back at Dash.

Who is doing that fist pump thing in his car and thrashing around happily.

Until he looks up at Danny, who is watching with glee at the show, and then stops and hides his face by hitting his forehead on the top of the steering wheel. When he looks back up at Danny, the raven waves with a smile and heads inside the building.

It's when Danny makes it into the apartment that he realizes he still has Dash's jacket on. Well, hopefully the blonde wouldn't miss it till the weekend, Danny hoped at least.