#waiting for the day the stylists let him have his actual hair texture please

[mingkily]

｡☆✼★━ “friends with benefits” | s.mg ━★✼☆｡

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starring: mingi x reader

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the label that fit best would probably be friends with benefits, because much like with friends with benefits the two of you had become close first after the benefits were added. the only difference was that your benefits weren’t sex, they were him playing with your hair at any chance he got.

“shit!”, you cursed, “shit, shit, shit!”

several other people were looking at you concernedly, but you paid them no mind, instead desperately tried to fix your hair because you’d managed to entirely ruin the hairstyle by accidentally pulling out one single hairpin, and now your incredible amounts of hair were going wild, something that wasn’t at all possible considering your texture, because while straight hair being left unstyled or put in a basic ponytail might look cute and endearing your curls very much did not, not after the stylist had brushed them - you’d look much like you managed to get a severe electric shock, something that wasn’t exactly the desired look to represent your school at one of the more prestigious dancing events in your area.

“can i like… help you?”, one brave soul dared to approach you, and this guy had balls, you had to admit, because even though you were technically just any other dancer everyone in the team knew about your fire, especially when you were angry. and looking up you knew that he must have known that, too, because he was your team’s vice captain, mingi, but maybe he hoped this position would get him mercy. it wouldn’t.

“unless you can fix my hair, you could help by leaving me alone”, you hissed, anger seeping out through every pore, but he just smiled at you in a way he hoped would be calming or reassuring, and then did something you had not at all expected.

“i could try? i can’t make promises, but we’re up in ten and the stylists are who knows where, so i’m all you got”, joking to hide his own annoyance at your stylists just having run off when this had very much been a possibility, and also annoyed that your hairstyle had been so easy to ruin when you were supposed to dance, something that everyone with a little common sense knew required people to move, and quite a lot at that.

“fine. i hope you know if i'm ruining the school's reputation because of a bad hairstyle i'm taking you down with me.”

you really did have fire, but mingi found it weirdly endearing - both of you were well aware of the height difference, yet here you were threatening him if he messed up your hair. and from the way you sounded he didn't even doubt that you'd manage to go through with that threat.

"i'll try my best. now stay still, we don't have too long left", starting to remove all the pins and whatnot from your hair in record speed because he'd need a clean canvas, so to say, and then his hands were in your hair and it didn't at all feel professional, you highly doubted that it would look professional, either, but he was right, he was all you got right now. so you just let him do his thing, hoping he'd get done before you needed to go on stage.

“two minutes!”, one of your teammates told you in a slight stage of panic, but right after that the tall vice captain seemed satisfied with his work, telling you: “try to shake your head, like, really hard, so we know it's going to work even when you're dancing.”

you did as asked and to your surprise it did hold up, much better than your stylists' attempts at a hairstyle ever had, theirs leaving you constantly scared that your hair would suddenly explode into a mess of curls as an unplanned special effect because you could feel the hair move along with every little movement; that wasn't the case with whatever he had done. your hair felt cemented into place, and while the tug at the roots was a little uncomfortable it was nothing you wouldn't be able to deal with. in fact, you preferred this over the constant fear that came without the tug at your roots.

“how's it look?”, he asked both you and the teammates, them approving before you turned to look for yourself.

it wasn't anything fancy, but it looked as professional as could be considering it was a hairstyle created in the span of maybe seven minutes by a layman, a bun that looked like it was a casual, loose one but that you could feel very much wasn't, and if you said that you'd wanted to make the two main centres (which, funnily enough, were mingi and you, him because he was vice captain and the actual captain was more of a trainer and organiser than part of the performing team and you because the fire you had when you were angry was a fire you shared when dancing and really no one else even wanted the main centre position, not when it came to competitions) look rather casual in terms of styling maybe you'd be able to pretend it was on purpose.

and it survived the entire performance, it felt like it hadn’t moved at all, leaving you able to give your all even with your upper body for the very first time ever since you started performing and your school had decided to give you stylists because you’d finally managed to be prestigious enough for that. you were happy that you could afford the stylists, even though it was only one for hair and one for makeup for the entire team, but they apparently had never had to deal with curls before, and most definitely not with thick, waist-length curls, as proven by the fact that they insisted on brushing your hair out every single performance, no matter how often you told them that that wouldn’t exactly make anything better.

after the performance, while you were waiting for the other teams to finish, mingi came up to you, and the two of you started talking at the same time.

“was dancing like that okay for you?”

“can you do my hair from now on?”

then both of you burst out laughing, the tall boy being the first to speak again.

“i take that as a yes?”, he asked you with a slightly teasing grin.

you rolled your eyes at him, but you were still grinning anyway, and then nodded your head wildly in confirmation, the bun still staying right where it was supposed to be.

“literally i’ve never felt this good during any performance. i usually try not to move my head too much because i can just feel my hair waiting to explode into everyone’s faces, but today was… heaven.”

maybe you were being a little dramatic, but your hair and the lack of expressiveness of your upper body that came with having to be careful so you wouldn’t obscure several people’s view with your unreasonable amounts of hair had actually made you dislike public performances or competitions, and being able to perform without holding back had been a nice change, one you weren’t sure you were willing to give up on again. so you asked him, again: “can you do my hair from now on? i’d do whatever it takes and if that should be the issue i’ll deal with the stylists too, just please”, so much desperation in your voice that he was about to start laughing, but then he remembered the amounts of hair he’d had to fit into the bun and stopped himself because if that did explode on stage he could see how it would be quite… unfortunate, and how feeling like it constantly might added unnecessary stress during every performance, which were already stressful enough. maybe that was why he agreed, or maybe he just liked how soft your hair had been.

“i mean, i can try? but i guess uh, i should probably practice before the next public thing, just so we can be sure it works?”

that was a good point, but after a few seconds’ thought you’d found a solution.

“you can do it after dance practice? if you have time, i mean. i usually stay longer to practice a few times by myself anyway, so we’d see if it holds up without risking anything for anyone but me.”

mingi didn’t even need to think about it before agreeing, smiling at you happily because even while he didn’t really know you yet - you barely ever talked, and if you did you only did so during dance practice and about dancing - he always loved making new friends, and it wasn’t too unlikely that he’d manage to befriend you if he got to be your personal hairstylist from now on.

first, however, you had to see if he had genuine skills when it came to taming your hair or if that one time had been sheer luck, which you did a few days later after group dance practice, when you as promised stayed longer so you could go through the choreo a few times by yourself again, having enough space and time to really do all movements, as slow and as spread out as you needed, because you’d found that it was easier to do them right in the team when you’d perfected them by yourself first, without having to take care that you wouldn’t accidentally kick anyone in the face.

“wait, your hair looks super different today”, your vice captain told you once you freed your hair from the constricts you had put it in before team practice, and you rolled your eyes, not at him but at the lady that insisted she had to brush your hair to style it when that really only made it worse.

“yeah, i didn’t brush it. makes it easier to handle.”

mingi nodded in understanding (though he really didn’t understand, because the most he’d ever dealt with on his own head was straight hair but styled to look voluminous and wavy rather than like limp noodles), examining his new canvas before asking: “do you have hair bands or something?”

at that you went over to your bag, rummaging in the front pocket and pulling out scrunchies, regular ties, those spiral hair ties that had started becoming popular, bobby pins and hairpins and the tall boy was left staring in wonder at just how many different kinds of hair taming products you carried with you on the daily.

“go wild. i have a brush too, if you really need it, but i’d rather you didn’t.”

“got it”, and with that he sat down next to your bag, patting the space in front of him so he’d have good access to your hair without having to move all your things around, trying carefully to twist your hair into different shapes just to see what might look good before he’d figure out if the laws of physics would allow for that to work.

“tell me if it hurts, okay?”, he told you quietly before looking at the - to him - huge array of different hair ties, a little overwhelmed and very inexperienced when it came to knowing in what way they differed from each other except for looks, so he asked your advice.

“which ones should i use? or are they all equally good or..?”, an open question so you could tell him whatever there was to know, which you did, and eventually he managed to replicate the bun that had made you so happy during the performance, and that made you so happy now, too, because it held up for the entire practice, a practice mingi joined because he wanted to see if he’d done okay and because he was curious and because he wanted to confirm next week’s hair styling appointment.

“you’re really good”, was the first thing he told you once you were done dancing, a comment that made you feel a little shy and flustered because if anything he was a really good dancer, and apparently really good at sensing when people were embarrassed, too, because he immediately continued: “and seems like i’ve figured out some magic trick for your hair. can i join again next week?”

you weren’t at all opposed, but worried a little that he didn’t actually want to, was just doing this to enhance the team’s performance as a vice captain should, so you wanted to be sure you weren’t wasting his time with your horrible hair that you were thinking of chopping off anyway because it was annoying.

“only if you have the time and if you really want to. i’m probably going to cut my hair soon anyway, i could just do it a little earlier and then the problem’s gone.”

as much as he knew he didn’t have any say in what you did with your hair, that thought made him just the tiniest bit sad, just because he’d found quite some enjoyment in doing your hair - it was soft, it was pretty, he liked your curls and you had a lot of it for him to style. so to think that he’d have to give up on his new hobby so soon again wasn’t exactly a thought he liked, and if there was any way he’d be able to prolong your makeover just a little longer he’d take it.

“no, i actually like it. your hair’s really soft too”, embarrassed as soon as he’d said that because you were acquaintances at most, yet here he was telling you that you had soft hair. at least he hadn’t told you that it smelled nice, because if he had he’d probably have to change schools.

in an attempt to distract from what he perceived to be a mess-up he then curiously inquired: “why do you want to cut it?”

you sighed out in a mixture of frustration and annoyance and resignation; you didn’t actually want to cut it, but you’d grown tired of having to take care of it, so cutting was really the only other option if you didn’t want a large dirty mess on your head.

“it’s just so much work, just brushing and washing and all that. takes ages and i don’t want to spend hours a week making sure i look acceptable, even though i really like my long hair. but that’s how it is sometimes”, a small, bitter smile on your face at that last sentence.

mingi’s inner monologue was one big chain of don’t embarrass yourself don’t embarrass yourself, but of course he failed.

“i mean, as i said, i like doing things with your hair. you could hire me as your stylist, so you wouldn’t have to take care of it and i’d get to play with it some more. win-win?”

then, because you didn’t immediately reply, were somewhat dumbfounded at his offer, he continued rambling.

“i wouldn’t wash it of course, that’d be weird, but i could brush it sometimes in school or i could learn how to braid or something, and then i’d actually be able to style your hair different ways for the performances and all, and-”

“you really wouldn’t mind?”, you tried to make sure, not because you didn’t enjoy the idea but because you didn’t want him to feel weird, since you were still well aware of the fact that him doing your hair when you barely even knew each other wasn’t exactly the most natural way for things to go. but you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t love having people do your hair for you, both because it meant less work for you and because you just really liked how it felt.

“i really wouldn’t mind. if it’s fine with you, i mean. if it’s not weird.”

it was obvious that both of you were embarrassed, but in a way that was what made you believe him; he wouldn’t be embarrassed if he didn’t think he was being weird by genuinely wanting to do things with your hair. so your bitter smile turned into a genuine one as you accepted his proposal, mingi smiling, too, and that was how you found yourselves in the weird relationship you were in now.

the label that fit best would probably be friends with benefits, because much like with friends with benefits the two of you had become close first after the benefits were added. the only difference was that your benefits weren’t sex, they were him playing with your hair at any chance he got. he really liked it, you were able to tell after maybe two weeks of being slightly awkward still, and by now the two of you regularly alternated between sitting with your friends or his during lunch because neither of you wanted to waste time that could be spent with his hands in your hair, both friend groups quite surprised at the sudden addition, but everyone got along well so it wasn’t a problem.

“i really didn’t expect you to have this much hair”, was one of the first things mingi had told you once your little agreement had come to be, you chuckling because that didn’t even surprise you - you usually kept it up or had it braided or really just anything to control it just because that was so much easier. but now that he was regularly running his hands through your mane it was revealed regularly to not only him but also people at school just how much hair you actually had. and while you didn’t know about your fellow students you could tell your by now rather good friend was delighted.

he’d surprised you when one day he’d gotten out a brush from his own bag rather than using the one you always carried with you, and surprised you even more when you realised that it was one of the fancy curl detangling brushes that you’d never cared enough to buy, surprised both because he’d spent his own money to get you a brush and because he’d obviously spent time researching your hair type to know what kind of brush was good for curls like yours.

“you really didn’t have to, mingi”, you told him when he started brushing your hair with his newest acquisition, feeling a little guilty because part of you was still convinced he secretly hated having slid into the position of your personal hair stylist, but he gave your head a reassuring pat.

“i know, but maybe i’ll get to brush your hair twice a week now.”

and how were you to say no to that, really? he was so gentle whenever he brushed your hair, had much more mercy with your scalp than you did, had learned how to do different kinds of braids and updos so even when your hair looked like it had exploded he managed to make it look good until you’d wash it again and it would return to its original state, so of course you gave in, the wide smile on his face more of a reward than even the fact that he’d now spend even more time with his hands in your hair.

it wasn’t like that was the only kind of affection the two of you had started displaying, though, a couple weeks after that first period of being awkward had ended, him regularly pulling you into his arms or his lap by now because the closer he was to you the easier access to your hair he had, and he’d found that your hands were equally as soft as your hair that one time you’d repositioned his hands positioning a hair band, your small palms on top of his much bigger hands and he was about to melt because your hands were so soft and small and warm and now he’d be unable to stop himself from holding your hands unless you told him not to do that.

which you never did, though, so handholding was added to the benefits of your friendship, as was cuddling, neither of you uncomfortable with incredible amounts of pda because really, it couldn’t get weirder than how this friendship had started out, so in a way it felt like you were way past being embarrassed about anything. he was sweet, he made sure to never make you uncomfortable or hurt you, and spending time with him was incredibly fun, sometimes practicing your dance routines together but more often just watching movies or going on picnics or other low-key things like that.

maybe all that should have been enough to make mingi realise that he had developed feelings for you at some point, but it wasn’t, the realisation hitting when one of your friends spotted a bug in his hair during lunch and you moved to carefully removed it, having your hands in his hair rather than vice versa for the very first time, and you were both delighted and offended.

“you never told me your hair is so soft!”, you told him accusingly, a sheepish grin and the words “sorry, i didn’t even realise it is” your reply, and then you caused his brain to entirely crash because you pulled your knees up on the bench, then moved your body so you were decently kneeling next to him, your body pressed to his side and your chest way too close to his face while you rubbed your cheek against his hair, enjoying this new experience of you being the one to play with someone’s hair for once while your incredibly overwhelmed best friend was determined to look straight ahead and straight ahead only, because he knew if he were to turn his head toward you he’d faint or cry or both.

he’d probably never been more relieved than when you dropped down to your butt next to him, though his brain did buffer a little again when you moved into his lap. it wasn’t even like you didn’t usually do that, but now in this situation it was a little much for his poor hormones, you in his lap with your face in the crook of his neck and if he didn’t have your hair to play with this would probably be the death of him. and when you whined out: “why are you so perfect, it’s not fair! you’re perfect boyfriend material. you’re funny and pretty and you’re kind and you smell good and now you even have soft hair, can you give the rest of us a chance?” he knew he was done for, because the butterflies in his stomach weren’t the kind of butterflies you were supposed to get around someone you only saw as a friend.

he didn’t tell you, though, was scared of making you uncomfortable and was scared of getting his heart broken and was convinced it was just a small crush anyway so there was no need to, especially when you were such an important part of the dance team and awkward tension between the two of you would affect the entire team and every performance. so he stayed silent, determined to ignore his feelings until they went away by themselves.

then, however, you brought him a shampoo, blueberry because you figured that was a rather neutral scent for a guy and you hadn’t wanted to get one of those three-in-one shampoos, mingi looking at the bottle wide-eyed and surprised because he hadn’t expected that even when he’d gotten you some shampoo in the past as well, along with hair accessories whose purchase he excused with “i mean, in the end it is me who gets to use them, it just happens to be on your head”, and because this wasn’t technically anything odd you got insecure about the fact that this technically was “girl shampoo”, even though you found the distinction stupid and useless.

“sorry, i should’ve guessed you won’t like that. i just heard that those hair ass and balls shampoos” - with which you meant the typical three-in-one shampoos - “aren’t actually good for the hair so i figured this might be better, but it’s technically women’s so of course it’s not really good either, i kind of just wanted to get you a little something because you always get me so much and-”

your anxious rambling would probably have continued for another hour if he hadn’t interrupted you, hands enveloping yours that still clung to the shampoo anxiously, trying to smile in a way that would seem reassuring to you too, rather than mocking which you probably assumed would be the case.

“thank you, really”, voice soft and appreciative and you finally calmed down a little, “but are you saying i can’t use this on my ass and balls?”

he hoped that joke would make you smile again, and it did, such a beautiful smile that he really wanted to kiss you right now, but he wasn’t going to. not when he really couldn’t be sure you felt the same.

what he was going to do was confess to you, though, just because he might explode if he didn’t, so now it was his turn to be nervous.

“uh, but also, i kind of… probably have a crush on you. just so you know.”

that most definitely was unexpected, and you wouldn’t be able to give him the reply he was hoping for either, your smile falling a little because you didn’t want to hurt him but knew that no matter how kindly you reacted it would hurt at least a little.

“mingi, i’m sorry”, you started, “i really am”, enough to let him know that you didn’t reciprocate, but at least you were being nice about it, weren’t making fun of him for thinking you might ever care about him that way.

“no, it’s okay”, he tried to reassure, even though it didn’t really feel okay in that moment. but he knew it would be once a little time had passed.

“i didn’t really think you’d like me back anyway. but are we still friends? or would i be making things weird?”

his hands had fallen from yours by now, his eyes trained on the shampoo bottle so he wouldn’t have to look at your face, anxiety replacing the blood in his veins as he waited for your reply that he half expected to be you telling him to leave you alone from now on, no matter how close you’d been up till now. for some reason he was convinced this was going to ruin your friendship, was scared of that until you grabbed one of his hands with your free one, trying to get him to look at you again with that so he’d see that there was no negative emotion except for maybe guilt between the two of you.

“you’re not making anything weird, i promise. and if you want we could like… go on dates too? and see where that takes us. if that wouldn’t make things unnecessarily hard for you, i mean.”

that most definitely got mingi’s attention, his head jolting up to stare at you in disbelief. were you implying that you’d maybe be willing to give him a chance?

“wait, you… mean that? really?”, hopeful but still scared, because he was putting his heart out in the open right now and he couldn’t know how you were going to treat it. yes, by now he’d found out that the fire you held when you danced or were angry was never used against the people you cared about, was only used to protect them, he’d found out that you were the softest, sweetest, kindest person once you’d warmed up to someone, but maybe what he was most scared of was that he’d lost his spot among your friends now. that he’d been demoted to dance team vice captain again, an acquaintance at best. that would be much worse than the rejection.

but that wasn’t the case. you weren’t sure if he even had it in him to do something that would genuinely make you want to cut him out of your life. you did want to give him a chance, even when you didn’t really reciprocate his crush right now, because he actually was perfect boyfriend material, was gentle and understanding and you knew that even if you’d end up never reciprocating he’d still be just as sweet to you. but you didn’t want to reject him right away, or at least not fully, wanted to give both him and yourself the option to maybe eventually date; sure, your answer right now wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no, either. your heart was saying maybe. so, in a way, you wanted to offer yourself a free trial period to tip your uncertain feelings over to either “we’re just friends” or “there’s something more there”.

“yeah, i mean that. if it’s fine with you. i don’t want you to get hurt if it doesn’t end up the way you hoped.”

to your tall, sweet best friend any chance was better than no chance, even if he wouldn’t manage to win your heart, because at least he’d tried. at least he wouldn’t have to beat himself up over the fact that he’d never actually tried winning your heart. but now that you’d told him that you’d be willing to give it a try he was going to do all he could to woo you, starting with complimenting you whenever he could, about everything, about your smile and your eyes and your hands and your outfit and your laugh and your passion and your hair and-

really, you were convinced that if he were to paint your fingernails he’d probably tell you he’d never seen prettier fingernails ever before in his life.

it was cute, though, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find it adorable how he’d get so flustered whenever he’d compliment you but would do it anyway. would always get you small gifts, too. most of the time it wasn’t even anything fancy, more often than not he’d spent at most a thousand won on whatever he got, but that made it even more endearing. you’d never expected to swoon over a rock that glimmered in the sunlight, or some random black rubber that he gave you as a ring (and then drew on, smiling proudly at his creation), or over a pokémon sticker from his childhood collection that he owned in triplicate - or now in duplicate, you guessed - because it had been his favourite pokémon back then, but you did. these weren’t no-brainer gifts, you were able to tell he really put thought into them, and they were absolutely adorable.

with mingi going all out like this it was impossible not to fall in love with him, really, though you still hadn’t figured out how to let him know because while it was obvious that his feelings for you hadn’t changed you were shy to tell him that yours had, had no idea how to even start that conversation in the first place. you didn’t exactly go up to him randomly and say: “yo, mingi, i actually wanna date you now.” you couldn’t do that.

so you continued as you’d grown used to, being best friends except now you were also going on dates, but it actually was a regular best friends thing that gave you the opportunity to update him on how you felt, the regular private dance practice after your team’s one where mingi would wait for you and do your hair before you’d start dancing, and then un-style your hair once you were done, except today he was feeling particularly affectionate, holding you close to his chest as he untied your hair and then, with all the confidence he’d been able to gather while you’d been dancing: “i kind of want to kiss your neck right now. you smell really nice”, something you were half convinced was a lie because all you could smell was your sweat, but you weren’t going to call him out for that when he’d offered you an opportunity to confess on a silver plate.

“why don’t you then?”, nervous but somewhat excited at the prospect, and before he was able to change his mind or be too anxious about it the tall sweetheart pressed a small kiss to the juncture between neck and shoulder, another one first when you hadn’t moved away at all, careful and shy because with every little peck he was convinced you’d suddenly push him away and decide that it was actually weird and gross, but that didn’t happen, and it was actually him who decided to push you away slightly because he noticed you were starting to get cold, still drenched in sweat but no longer moving so of course you’d start freezing sooner or later.

“you should take a shower, i don’t want you to get sick. i’ll wait here”, a nervous smile because he wasn’t sure if you’d let him do that again after your shower or if this had been a one time thing, but he got his answer when you smiled back, nervous, too, and asked: “can i get a kiss to my mouth first so we can make it official?”

his answer was an obvious one and his smile when you came back from the shower and grabbed his hand brighter than you’d ever seen.

[pockpop]

ateez reaction to seeing your natural hair for the first time

↬ synopsis: these fools first time seeing your natural hair after dating for sometime

↬ requested? yesss, thank you for requesting!

••

hongjoong ♡

probably the sweetest when seeing your natural hair for the first time. finds your Afro so cute, especially in its early stages and nicknames you his cocoa puff. would be the one to help you during wash day and actually try to educate himself on different hair textures and what yours would need, end up knowing more about your hair than you.

seonghwa ♡

goes to the salon with you and sits patiently in the waiting area, flipping through ebony magazine and watching talk shows with the other stylists and customers.

he would try and peak and see you but you were being blocked by your stylist whenever he would try and see you. finally you came walking out, to pay and he was star struck. it was his first time seeing your natural hair, bouncing with each step and you being a little extra to show it off.

on the way home, he could not keep his eyes off you and definitely filled up his camera roll with pictures of you, glowing.

yunho ♡

he came home craving your attention, tired from a long practice that once he found you laying on the bed, scrolling on your phone, he didn’t hesitate to just lay on top of you, burying his face in your neck.

giggling, you tried to push him off.

“yunho, baby you’re heavy get off.” you whines but he whined back, mumbling that he was in recharge mode. when you finally pushed him off, he rolled over on his side to see you and that’s when he noticed your hair in two puffs, your edges laid perfectly.

“stop staring at me like that.” you demanded shyly and it was yunho’s turn to get shy, a bright smile spreading on his face.

“sorry, I just didn’t know my girlfriend was so fly ya know,”

“please don’t ever say that again”

cue a even more embarrassed and cute yunho, trying to hide in your embrace once again.

yeosang ♡

you two were in a long distance relationship, FaceTime calls and Skype calls being the way you guys see each other for a while. but when he became too busy to even do that, you had still planned to meet for the first time and this was also around the time you were deciding to go natural and drop your perm routine.

you got off the plane and you found him before he saw you. you came up behind him and put your hands over his eyes.

“guess who!”

he laughed and placed his hands over yours before turning in your arms to see you.

instead of rocking a sew in and your many different hair wraps, you were sporting a twist out, curls shaping your face well. his face grew into a wide smile, his hands came up to cup your face, the tips of his fingers playing with your curls.

“have I ever told you how cute you were?”

san ♡

highkey so annoying and extra when he had come home to see your faux locs gone and your natural hair in its place. trying act like he don’t know you and hitting on you.

“hey girl, I got a boo and all but I’d love to see you in my bed sometime.”

“if you don’t get-“

he’d scream if you threw something at him but he’d laugh afterwards before joining your side on the couch,”but on a real note, I’m liking this, why am I just now seeing it?!”

hella offended that he’s just now seeing your natural hair after being together for a minute but loves to watch you do different styles and always offers to help even if he has no idea what he’s doing

mingi ♡

one word: shook.

homeboy had vaguely remembered you saying you were taking out your braids and in the short time you two were together, he had only seen you in protective hairstyles. so when he come to pick you up from your hair stylists house that night, mouth wide open seeing the tame braids replaced with kinky curls that made him take multiple takes. he already thought you were fine, but seeing your natural hair just made him feel like he was seeing you for the first time again.

“is that my baby right there?! I don’t believe it!” he’s loud and embarrassing just to let everyone know he’s the one taking you home and he’s happy about it

wooyoung ♡

you two had a date and he was picking you up. since it was a pretty cool day, you decided to wear your natural hair out, something you forgot wooyoung had never seen until you answered the door and homeboy was staring at you like he was seeing you for the first time.

he’d break into a smile and lean in for a kiss. the whole date, he’s holding you closer than usual, not that he’s not affectionate usually but he’s all over you now

“you’re just looking too good today, you should wear your hair like this more often.”

jongho ♡

instinctively reached to touch and you pointed at him,”I wish you would,”

this brought out the petty side in him, a smirk growing on his face as he continued to reach. you screeched trying to escape him but he was quick and strong, gripping your waist and yanking you back to him.

“no! you never touch a black woman’s hair!” which he already knew from past experience with you but he loved teasing you and when you finally calmed down and let him twirl a coil between his fingers, you watched as he smiled cutely.

“I like it you know, it fits you so much better than anything else.”

“you think so?”

“well yeah, for instance I’m sure I can yank on it and it won’t slip off while I’m hitting from the-

“JONGHO SHUT YA MOUTH”

[electriclinda]

Ask Me Anything

I do get quite a lot of questions here and there on Social Media, and since I can´t get the time to answer all questions everywhere, I have made this question Portal, to collect your questions, so I can answer them in bulk. Before you enter your questions, please see my answers below. Maybe it's right here...

Tattoo Questions

Can I coverup this tattoo? If you want to book a personal consultation in the studio with a tattoo artist at my shop, just use the request form at attitude.no Unfortunately I don’t offer online consultations as those are reserved for my clients, so if you have a specific question you are more than welcome to ask below and I’ll add it to the list of free resources I do on Youtube. Maybe you can find some answers in my video on Coverups? I also do collect tattoos online to edit them in future YouTube videos. Check out more info about that HERE. Best of luck! Can you take a look at my tattoo and see what is possible to do with it? When you send a request to Attitude Tattoo Studio, and you get the response to book appointments specifically with me, you can book a consultation in the studio to show me your tattoo. I do not take online consultations, but I do collect tattoos online to edit them in future YouTube videos. Check out more info about that HERE. How much for a sleeve? Haha, funny question! How much is a house? Or a car? But honestly, a sleeve is not easy to predict the price for. It depends on many things, like: The size of your arm, Color use, Amount of Details, Style, Tattoo Artist Speed, Studio and Artist Reputation and Demand, Your Skin, Your aftercare, and many more… So a sleeve usually cost somewhere between 5000 to 150000 NOK (around 500 to 15000 dollars)  You could also check out my price list HERE. At what point is it ok to shave a new tattoo? I would recommend waiting with any shaving on a new tattoo until it has healed for at least 3-4 weeks. However, I do not recommend shaving on tattoos too often. I think shaving can give a dotty effect in the skin where the tattoo is, leaving it to look like it has light small spots on it. For hair removal on tattoos, I actually recommend epilators or waxing.

Personal Questions

How did you start tattooing? I have actually made a video about it. I hope it will answer your question. If you want more support from me when it comes to getting in to the business, then consider joining my Patreon for tattoo education and business advice: https://www.patreon.com/electriclinda Best of luck! What is your favorite thing to tattoo? I truly love challenges. I enjoy difficult projects. Realism and Vibrant colors are within my comfort zone, so when Color Realism Tattoos turn more advanced by adding textures and effects (wrinkles, glasses, lights etc), the tattoo is really fun for me. I also like freehand challenges when I «remix» old tattoos. Before/after photos are so satisfying to me! I have a Pinterest album called «I really want to tattoo these» Check it out! What else do you do besides tattooing? Awesome question, thank you! I am a mother of three, so the mom-life takes a big place in my life now. But I do love my hobbies. They are all creative and nerdy, like Drawing, Painting, making Music, singing, filming, making videos, photography, Blogging, designing websites and more. I do get problems prioritizing sometimes since I have way too much ambition, too many hobbies and so little spare time. I am never bored! How was tattooing Mac Miller? Oh my God. I can’t describe the feeling well enough. We spent a couple of evenings with him and his crew, I was face timing Ariana Grande, no words are great enough… I wrote a blog post about it just after, and later I made a storytime video, you can see it HERE. Did you ever consider other career paths when you were younger? Oh yes, I thought about web designing, graphic designer, illustrator, hairdresser, stylist, and musician (I wanted to be a pop star for such a long time). I did have a few other jobs before I started tattooing, like bartender, karaoke hostess, gas station clerk, hairdresser apprentice, computer game shop clerk, a telemarketer and more… Do you do Tours in Norway? I do not tour at all at the moment. I traveled a lot before, both in Norway and international. At the moment I really need to focus on my health, my family and the studio. When all those elements are in balance, I would like to travel a bit again. Have no idea where, but I will let everyone know when I do!

Business Questions

Do tattooists feel annoyed if you come back with a tatt from a different artist? I know many tattoo artists that are quite «territorial» and actually feel like they own your body parts once they tattooed you, but I do not agree with them. It is YOUR body, YOUR life and YOUR tattoos. So I don’t understand why I should be annoyed if someone else tattooed you! What do u do when u r not in the mood of tattooing and you have to do one? You do it or another day? I am usually fully booked for several months ahead, and I often have clients traveling quite far. So I always kind of need to be in the mood, at least enough to be able to be highly creative every single day. It is almost like being a performing artist that has shows booked. You can’t NOT do the show because you’re not in the mood. You would lose your job. Can you teach me to tattoo? Well, without seeing your portfolio and having an interview, I can’t offer you an apprenticeship in my shop, but I do have educational content for tattoo artists and apprentices on my PATREON. You can watch my educational videos, and sign up for one on one mentoring if you wish. You didn't find the answer to your question? Just enter your question in the form below, and I will answer when I get the time. Thanks! Read the full article

[calistapledger]

Goodbye Love

[A/N: I guess y'all deserve some closure (I love how I pretend y'all care about Cal’s story) also props to @ariciaeast for helping me cowrite this. Her version can be found on her blog eventually]

I was glad I wasn’t complacent enough to spend the week away being idle. I took advantage of my extra time to spend time with my friends. I baked cookies with Dev - well I found out she doesn’t actually makes her own cookies but rather had the chef make them for her. We bonded over leftover cookie dough while watching him bake them. I felt the chemistry between Dev and the chef. I was happy that if she didn’t win, she had options.

Aricia, Isabella, Debbie, and I were lounging in the library every morning since my date. After breakfast, if we didn’t have any pre-established plans, we would walk towards the libraries and seek solitude in each other and in the walls of literature that surrounded them. Unfortunately, as the week progressed, there was a notable increase in the tension between us. With my looming departure, we realized that we were losing good friends and sisters. They all tried their best to bring the vibe back to normal. Debbie joked about desserts, Aricia tried to lighten the mood with terrible puns, Izzy just had to be her usual bubbly self. I admired them greatly for their efforts but that didn’t change the fact that Dominic was going to boot me.

I accompanied Emma around the Palace as she snapped her pictures and I temporarily took over Maddie in teasing her about Alec. Theia and I had a lovely time discussing her family life and her various potato growing techniques.

And Aly, oh Alystair. I don’t know where I’d be without him. He made the last week worthwhile. My friends were amazing and having Aly come over at the end of the day to review our days was a real treat. He would give me all the juicy details on what was happening with everyone in the Palace, talk about new recruits and some of the intense training they’ve had. No one would ever suspect it with his career choice but Aly was a talented musician. He was a Five before he was drafted to the Palace and was the most talented violinist I’ve heard. His music was appreciated even more by me because of my sensitive hearing. I could hear every string being eloquently rubbed against the bow. I could spend years listening to him play.

The last night, he didn’t play and I frowned already missing the bow pressed against the strings. The air was tense and somber. “The Prince had his last date today, he’ll be announcing the official eliminations tomorrow.” His tone matched the atmosphere. I fell onto my bed, in disbelief. Had a week gone by so fast? Instinctively the walls went up. What’s the point of letting him in when I’m going home tomorrow? I shifted into a faux happy mood. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. Like Vad said one bad date doesn’t necessarily mean a bad relationship.” He hummed in agreement but he seemed reluctant. I heard him take a breath and was going to say something before I interrupted him. “I’m exhausted, Theia showed me how to plant potatoes today. It’s harder than you think it is. I think I’ll sleep early today. Goodnight Aly.” I could tell he wanted to protest but I yawned loudly to avoid his protests. I practically pushed him out the door. I found my way back to my bed before I heard Isla’s clicking tongue.

“Oh don’t you start, Isla. I’m going to bed.” “Pushing him away isn’t helping anyone, Miss.” “What have I’ve said about calling me Miss, Isla?” I ignored her comment completely. By now, she should know that I was going to aggressively ignore the problem at hand. What does she think I’ve been doing the past week?

*** That thoughtless bastard! You’d think he himself would come to eliminate me officially but now as the butler stood before me uttering the news, I should have known better. In my fit of my rage, I dismissed the messenger rudely. He should be glad I didn’t shoot him. I felt bad when I heard him whimpering on the way out. I breathe and count to 10 to calm myself.

He had told me that I had to pack and leave by the afternoon. I brought the bare minimum of my aiding devices so I didn’t have much to pack. Father was going to be so disappointed. I’ve been so busy with the Palace life, I forgot to call my family. I can’t seem to do anything right. I’m a terrible date, daughter and friend to Alystair. I had Isla locate my aids and threw them into my backpack.

By the time Isla dressed me, I had hot angry tears running down my face. The door opened and I caught a whiff of Paris and Valencia’s perfume. They sat me down and worked silently. Paris wiped away the tears with a warm face towel and started applying the necessary makeup. “At least leave in style, Miss- I mean Cal.” Paris smiles at me and I can feel her positivity spreading to me. As Paris’ blush brush tickled me, Valencia started pulling at my hair. The heat of the curling iron prickled against my neck.

“Do you want me to get the Captain?” Isla asked just as Paris and Valencia laid the final touches on me. My head helper thought she was so cheeky wanting to bring Aly along to mend my heart. I couldn’t so I shook my head. “I’d like to see my friends first.” I stood up as my make up artist and hair stylist stepped back. I gripped my dress, feeling up the texture. It was silky and blue, it fell to my knees. It was perfect.

When I stepped out of my room, I heard echoes of footsteps. I caught whiffs of their various perfumes and I instantly knew it was my usual book gang - consisting of Cia, Izzy and Debs. The tense and sombre air hung awkwardly amongst us. We regrouped and made our way to the Dining Hall for Breakfast. My last meal, we’ll call it that. Normally during our walk to the hall, we talked about all the things that had happened, cracking jokes and laughing noisily, getting strange looks from the guards, but today was a different day, with none of us daring to break the silence, until I spoke.

“Hey, could one of you help me get downstairs? I wouldn’t want to go home with an injury.” I forced a laugh. Izzy moved to my right side while Cia walked to the other, grabbing my arms and leading me down the stairs, while Debs walked beside us, possibly watching the steps. Once we reached the end, the girls let go of my arms, and started walking towards the dining hall, the blanket of silence drifting on top of us once again. 

Once we arrived at the dining hall, we waved to all the other girls, who were also sitting silently, eating their food. We all walked over to join the rest of the Breakfast Club - Emma, Dev and Theia seemed to have gotten up earlier - and sat in our normal seats, helping ourselves to the food on the table. Izzy and Aricia both silently talked about small things, while we all occasionally snuck glances at the royal table. They all seemed happy, talking animatedly amongst each other, which clearly wasn’t the case amongst some of the Selected - particularly our group. 

Once breakfast was over, the four of us bid the other three goodbye while they went off to go on with their daily affairs. Emma and her impromptu photo shoots, Dev probably went off to her Chef friend and I’m fairly certain Theia was raising a Potato Army in the Royal Garden. We walked towards the library, not wanting to break our normal morning tradition. We walked in, sat down, and waited for someone to bring up a book first. 

“Well, I read this book last week-“, Izzy started, but Aricia interrupted her. “Please, Izzy, not now… “She started and must have shot her a pleading glance at Izzy, who automatically understood, and changed the topic. “So, Cal, what are you planning for after the selection?” She asked, voicing the question that I’m sure was on all of their minds. I shrugged, fiddling with a stray book I found, “I’m not sure. I just want to live out my life without any burdens or pressures.” Debbie nodded, “That makes sense. It’s a good time as any to discover yourself right now.” We all chorused in agreement, before sinking back into silence again.

“When are you leaving, Cal?” Aricia asked, I heard her running a hand haphazardly through her blonde locks. I smirked slightly, “Wow, Cia, you sound eager to be rid of me.” My defense mechanism, ladies and gentlemen. Aricia rolled her eyes, “That not what I meant, and you know it Cal.” She said, I heard the corners of her mouth tugging up ever so slightly. Debbie and Izzy laughed, shaking their heads at us.   

“You make us laugh even in the darkest times, Cal.” Izzy said, moving towards me to give me a hug, “I’ll miss you so much” she mumbled into my shoulder. I wanted to cry and not let go of her. I didn’t want to go. Debbie and Aricia both got up, wrapping their hands around us, enclosing us into their embrace. “I’ll miss you guys as well. You were the highlight of my stay here, and I will never forget any of you.” I said, pulling away, “You better write, or else” I threatened, which sent the four of us into a state of delirious laughter. We kept laughing, until they heard a throat clear from the doorway, which caused them to stop laughing. The girls turned around to see Aly standing by the door, waiting to be invited into the room. But I had smelled his aftershave before I even heard his throat clearing. 

“Come on in, Captain Costas, no need to be shy,” Aricia said slyly, which causing me to blush slightly and Debbie, Aricia and Izzy to laugh. “Haha, very funny Cia,” I said, rolling my eyes, but you could hear the laughter in my voice. Aly walked further into the room, coming to a stop in front of us. “Ladies, if you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to Lady Calista for a minute,” he said, rubbing a hand at the back of his neck. He was nervous which calmed my own nerves. “Oh, of course! We’ll give you both the alone time you need,” Izzy exclaimed, dragging a laughing Debbie and Aricia out of the room before I could murder them. I rolled my eyes at my friends, “I’ll get you back later!” I yelled after them, before turning to look at Aly once the door shut. “So, Alystair, what did you want to talk to me about?” I asked, knowing full well what he wanted to talk about. He ran a hand through his hair, before taking the seat opposite to Cal, “Were you honestly going to leave without saying goodbye?” he asked, his voice strained. So his nerves could be blamed on my friends’ presence. He was annoyed. 

Well, he doesn’t beat around the bush.

I sighed and gave it to him straight, “I thought it’d be easier that way.” “What would be easier?” His eyebrows shifted to a frown, brushing against his forehead. “Leaving without saying goodbye would make the goodbye easier, wouldn’t you think? No emotional sobbing, no empty promises, nothing.” I said bluntly. “Easier for you, but not for me,” He exhaled exasperated, but before I could answer, he stood up, “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Calista. I must get going now, have a safe journey home.”

“Wait! Where are you going?” I asked, and silently reprimanded myself. What did I care that this man was walking away from me? “I do have a job here, you know,” Alystair said mockingly, “I hope we meet again Calista Ledger, I hope we meet again very soon” he added, slipping out of the room before I could get one word in against him. I caught brief muffled conversations between him and my friends before they came tumbling back in. 

“Cal?” Debbie asked, walking into the room first, “Are you ok?” I nodded, unsure as to how I was feeling at the moment, “I have to go to my room and grab my stuff. It’s almost time for me to go.” “Cal-“ Izzy started, but I held up a hand, definitively silencing her, “Not now, Izzy. I’ll talk to you all later when I’m doing packing up, okay? I’ve got some things I need to think about. Now if you’ll excuse me,” I said, storming out of the room and leaving my friends dumbfounded. 

In all honesty, I felt bad about what I did. All my friends wanted was to help me out and spend time with me, but I couldn’t even allow them that. I shook my head, shaking the thoughts out of my mind. If I started thinking like this, I knew I’d go back and spill everything to the girls, and I couldn’t handle that right now. I walked up the stairs slowly, getting assistance from a guard who was standing by the railing. I thanked him when I got to the landing, and walked towards my room. 

I thanked the Gods when my helpers were still there. I would get to say my goodbye. The three of them stood before me, not knowing what to say. I broke out into a smirk directed at Isla. “It is my last day, this warrants a hug don’t you think?” I heard her rolling her eyes. 

“You’re an odd one, Cal.” “I’ll take that as a compliment, Isla.” I teased, pulling the three of them into a bone crushing hug. I whispered my thank you softly into their ears. I hope my hug said it all. I would be nothing without these three. We soon had to break up the love fest because it was nearing noon and I had to leave. I slung my backpack over my shoulders and walked out the door with my head held high and the walking stick in my hand. Just because I decided to leave with grace doesn’t mean my blindness was magically cured.

I was just exiting the Hall when I felt the loud thud of his steps and smelled the scent of his aftershave. His steps were louder and rougher than usual. He was mad and I don’t blame him. The sound stops and I hear his deep breathing. He can’t even speak because he’s so mad.

“You’re actually going to leave without saying goodbye, aren’t you,” Aly said, with a structure in his tone that caught me off guard. I took a moment to reevaluate my situation, knowing that if I responded, I’d give into my vulnerability, which was the last thing I needed right now. But, the smarter part of me screamed to give him an answer and walk away, acting unaffected.

“I was going to send you a postcard.” I blurted, trying to ease the tension. He was not amused, evident from the exasperated sigh that escaped him. “I know you’re blind but surely you’re not an idiot! You know how I feel about you, Calista. I know you feel the same.”

What. The. Hell.

I stood there, rendered speechless. What could I say to that? That I loved him back? Truth. That I didn’t want anything to do with him? Lie. I knew that I couldn’t say either of those, because my truth would give Aly everything he needed to hold me back, but he would see through my lie instantly. Quickly making my decision, I donned a face of indifference, “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said, repeating the same lie I had told countless times before. 

“Ah, I know what you’re doing” he said, his voice as gentle as the morning wind. I placed my hands stubbornly on my waist, staring him down the same way I did when we first met. Its funny how our story both started and seemed to be ending the same way. “What exactly am I doing?” I’m not going to patronise you, Cal. You don’t have to push me away. I want you to stay.” 

“You’re crazy! Dominic would never allow it!” I scoffed. He laughed and suddenly all the tension between us dissolved. He ruffled my hair, and I shook my head trying to get rid of his touch. He was such a weirdo, why do I even like him? 

“AH HA! You do fancy me!” He exclaimed, sounding happier than a kid on Christmas morning. I ran over what I had said in my head and I groaned when I realised I had said it out loud. “It doesn’t matter, I’m leaving.” I hitch up my backpack and make a move to go around him when he pulls me towards him. I try to resist but end up melting into his arms. I could feel his soft breath on my forehead, and the thundering of his heart beneath his uniform. I start to blush, I had made that happen. 

“I want you to stay but not in the Palace, that isn’t my call but I do have an apartment outside the Palace. You could stay and study in Angeles University so we’d still be close. Please, Cal. We could be happy.” The last part of his sentence was what broke me out of my trance. I knew that with the way things were going now, I couldn’t be happy. Not until I could have some time to heal and sort out everything back home.

“Life isn’t a fairy tale, Aly. I have a family to get home to. I’ve disappointed them enough” I said, wrenching myself out of his hold and walking away. This time, Alystair didn’t stop me. I walked down the hallway, and in my haste, bumped into someone, sending us both sprawling out on the floor. “Oh my, I’m so sorry! Are you ok?” I asked, getting up and dusting herself off. “Cal?” A voice said, coming close to her, and I recognized it as the voice of Aricia. 

“Hey, Cia,” I started, and tried to walk around herl. Unfortunately for me, Aricia knew what I was planning on doing and grabbed my wrist with an iron grip. “Where are you going? You just ran away without any explanation, and we’ve been looking for you for the past half hour!” She exclaimed, incredulous. I sighed, and turned to look in Cia’s general direction, “I’m sorry, Cia, it just…” I trailed off, and Aricia started guiding her down the hallways. 

“Where are we going?” I asked, continuing to match Aricia’s brisk pace. “Well, you’re leaving soon, and Debbie, Izzy and I want answers, so you’re going to give them to us,” she said forcefully. I was shocked, I’d never seen Aricia behave this coldly before. Whatever was bothering her, I made it my mission to figure out. “Here we are,” Aricia said, leading me into a room. “Where are we?” I asked, trying to gauge my surroundings “The library,” Aricia stated, the edge coming back into her voice again. What was up with her?

“Izzy? Debbie?” Aricia called, looking around the library. “Back here!” Came a voice, and Aricia guided both of us to it. We walked silently, Aricia’s hand still clasping mine with a vice like grip. We kept walking until we reached a small nook in the corner of the library - Aricia was feeling generous enough to describe it to me. “Oh, you found her,” Debbie said with a breath of relief, as we approached them. 

Aricia nodded I heard her hair brush against her neck, and let go of my wrist, as if it were poison. She walked over and took a seat beside Izzy, who looked at her with concern. They whispered amongst themselves before turning to me. I turned my full attention to them when they started to question me. “So, Cal,” Izzy started, shifting her gaze from one friend to another, “Why did you storm out?” I shrugged, “I was going to leave without saying goodbye to Alystair, which made him upset.” Debbie gasped, “How could you? You know he cares about you, right?” I groaned, hating the way the conversation was going, “What do you mean, how could I? Just because he cares about me doesn’t mean that I’m going to drop everything that’s going on in my life and be with him!” I yelled, my voice getting louder with each word, and a deathly silence followed my outburst. I instantly felt guilty. 

“Debs, I’m sorry, I know you want what’s best, but I don’t know what to do,” I apologized. Debbie sighed, “It’s ok, Cal, but that didn’t give you the right to yell,” she said. Always the peacemaker, I thought, but the irony of her words didn’t get past me. So, it was alright for Aricia to be upset for no reason, but not for me to be upset with one? “Speaking about people not having the right to do things,” I started, looking around the room, “What’s wrong with you, Aricia?” Aricia tensed, her body going stiff as a rod, “I don’t want to talk about it,” she forced out, her gaze steely. “But-“ I interjected, trying to get an answer out of Aricia, but was interrupted by the latter. “I said, I don’t want to talk about it,” She stated, her words getting icier by the minute. Honestly, what was her damage? I felt my temper rising but quickly calmed myself, not wanting to ruin my last day with them. She will tell me in due time. 

“Come on, Cal,” Izzy said, checking her watch, “it’s almost time for you to leave, let’s walk you to the front doors.” We got up and walked towards the doors speechlessly, as if there was an invisible force that kept our mouths shut. When we arrived there, all the other ladies who were eliminated were standing there, with the girls still in the Selection saying goodbye to each of their friends. We walked up to my haversack where Emma, Dev and Theia were waiting and stood there speechlessly. I went around saying my individual goodbyes to each girl. I hugged them tightly, I was going to miss them terribly. After I was done, they circled around me in sombre silence. 

“Well, I guess this is goodbye then,” Debbie said, breaking the ominous silence. “No,” I stated, “not goodbye, just… the start of something new.” All of us stood together, looking at each other before coming together for a brief hug. When we pulled away, I could hear sniffles and tears rolling down cheeks from all around. “Here’s to forever,” Izzy whispered, looking around at all her friends “Here’s to forever.” We echoed.

[imaginetonyandbucky]

Helping Hands

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five| Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen: All Hands and the Cook 

“Oh, lord,” Christine Everhart said, not looking away as Bucky squeaked in surprise and held the shirt he was getting ready to put on in front of his legs. He wasn’t totally naked behind it, and that was a good thing, but really. “He’s shy.” 

Tony’s photographer friend leaned in the door, watching him with appraising eyes. Not as if she found him attractive, but like she was planning on selling him to the highest bidder and was wondering just how much she could get for him. 

“Sorry,” Tony mouthed at him, looping his arm around Christine’s waist. “Let the man get dressed. In the meanwhile, did I tell you I had a bottle of that Italian wine you’re so unreasonably fond of? And tell me, how’s your sister? She never did…” Still talking, Tony deftly moved Christine out of Bucky’s line of vision. 

Bucky scrambled into the rest of his clothes: jeans, tank, and button down shirt left open. He was still blushing furiously and mortified that this was the case. He scrubbed both hands over his face, then through his hair, and ended the gesture with his left hand cupped against the back of his neck, feeling the heat of his skin. The new arm Tony had given him still amazed him -- the way he could actually feel the texture of his own hair, the subtle changes in heat and cold. His handwriting would never be particularly good -- he was left-handed in a mainly right-handed world, after all, and his penmanship would never have been considering pretty even before the bombing -- but he could write and have it be readable, and his signature looked like it might actually be a name. 

Which was good, because Bucky didn’t think he’d signed his name so many times before in his entire life combined. The Stark Industries employment paperwork, bank paperwork, Steve’s school paperwork, photography releases, contract addendums, legal forms… Bucky’d gone to bed the night before with an ache in his shoulder and dreamed of being chased around by legal teams waving more forms at him. He’d woken up, breathless, and it had taken him a while to realize where he was. 

Tony’s penthouse was ridiculously enormous; four bedrooms in addition to the master on the second floor, two swimming pools (one was for Tony’s personal use, on the deck off the master bedroom, and the other was a full olympic-sized pool on the main “downstairs” deck), a spa/sauna room with a jacuzzi, a personal movie theater, fully stocked bar, and a formal dining room that seated eighteen. (Thank god Tony prefered smoothies for breakfast and usually drank them standing in the kitchen, with Bucky and the kids at the island bar, because Bucky wasn’t sure what sort of appetite he would have had in that sterile dining area.) And that wasn’t even including the lab-slash-workshop that took up almost two and a half times the space of Bucky’s entire apartment. 

That first night, installed in the bedroom directly under the master, which had its own sitting room and deck, Bucky had waited nervously in the dark, for Tony to come visit. And it wasn’t that he didn’t like Tony, because he did, and it wasn’t that he didn’t find Tony attractive, because even he couldn’t lie that convincingly to himself. But after what had happened in the ‘shop, and the piles of paperwork to pretend to be Tony’s boyfriend for a few months, not to mention Bucky opening his mouth and falling in -- what the hell was he thinking, trial relationship? With Tony Stark?

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 Tony could have put him in the same guest area as the twins and his son, but hadn’t. Which made it seem all the more likely that Tony had been planning a late night seduction, and Bucky couldn’t for the life of him work out how he should feel about that, never mind what he actually did feel. Bucky had lain in that huge, excessively comfortable bed, staring at the ceiling and waiting with mixed dread and anticipation, but Tony had never showed up. Around four in the morning, Bucky had finally conked out. 

It was, he decided, a good thing he’d lost his job, because he wasn’t given enough time as it was. After Clint’s visit, he’d signed the paperwork, and then all the real work had started. Visits to Steve’s school, getting the bank accounts set up, getting registered with Stark Industries security (“make sure you wear your badge in all the public areas of the Tower”), the tour of that building and the areas of it where he was allowed (Tony’s office, the public areas, and the full-scale workshop) which had included an introduction to Tony’s friend Bruce, and then he’d been handed over to Chel, a dark-skinned, exceptionally beautiful woman who was the apprentice to Tony’s stylist, and who had since shown up daily with packages of clothing and a rather exasperated attitude about how Bucky did not know how to stand, walk, or breathe in ways that would do justice to the wardrobe she was creating for him. 

Finally, he got his blush under control and went back into the main entertainment lounge. Christine was leaning against the bar, sipping a glass of golden wine and flirting with Tony, her hand on the sleeve of his expensive suit. 

Christine considered him, then shrugged. “The suit was nice,” she said, referring to the earlier sets of photos, “but casual is a good look, too. I have to admit, Tony, he’s very pretty. I can’t believe you dug him up in Brooklyn, of all places.” 

Tony’s smile was apparently sincere, all wide angles and sparkling teeth, but somehow it didn’t seem to Bucky like it quite reached his eyes. “What can I say, Christine? I know quality when I see it,” Tony remarked, picking a non-existent piece of lint off his sleeve. 

How Christine might have responded to that, Bucky didn’t know, as the door opened and Wanda came in, Steve holding her hand with one of his. His other hand held an ice-pack to the side of his face. 

“Daddy,” Steve said, suddenly starting to cry. He ran for Bucky, who opened his arms and snatched up his son. 

“What happened?” He peeked under the ice pack, where Steve’s eye was already swollen and a little red. 

“He got in a fight while we were at the park,” Wanda said. “I’m so sorry, Uncle Bucky, I just looked down at my phone for five seconds…” 

“Steve?” Bucky looked down at his son, trying to ignore the way Christine had reached for her camera with glee, circling them and snapping photos. 

“Harry Osborn called Mary-Jane a bad name, and then, when Peter told him that was mean, he pushed Peter onto the sidewalk. Peter was cryin’, Daddy. I had to do somefin.” 

“We’ve talked about fighting, Stevie,” Bucky said, though privately, he couldn’t blame Steve. He’d met Harry Osborn before; that kid was a freaking goblin. Mean and cruel and prone to excessive teasing, especially when he supposedly liked someone, Harry had gotten away with some incredibly terrible behavior under the guise of boys-will-be-boys. 

“He called Mary-Jane the n-word, Daddy,” Steve protested, the tears a little less hurt and a little more indignant now, “an’ pushed Peter down and made him cry. He’s a bully!” 

“Yes, he is,” Bucky agreed. “But that doesn’t mean that hitting him was the right thing to do. You could have gotten your cousin, or told another adult.” 

Steve crossed his arms and looked stubborn. “Like you did when those men were going to hurt Mr. Tony?” 

“Kid comes by it honestly, Buck,” Tony said, not quite laughing. Bucky inhaled sharply. 

“I’ll thank you not to interfere with my parenting, if you don’t mind,” Bucky said. “Stevie, honey… you’re right, I did do that. But I also got shot doing it. I just want you to be safe, okay kid? Harry Osborn is a lot bigger than you are.” 

“He’s bigger than Mary-Jane is, too,” Steve pointed out. 

“You’re right,” Bucky admitted. “But fighting should be the last resort, not the first one. Okay? Please, for me, do you think maybe you could try a different solution next time?” 

“Okay,” Steve said, which Bucky figured would last for about ten minutes, then squirmed to be let down. Wanda apologized again, then took Steve off to the guest rooms to get cleaned up. 

“Next time?” Christine asked, her camera still clicking. 

Bucky sighed. “There’s always a next time,” he said. 

Tony, the bastard, at least waited until Steve was out of earshot to laugh in earnest. “You’ve got your hands full with that one, hero,” he said. 

Bucky squirmed inwardly. It wasn’t that he didn’t agree with Steve. Honestly, Harry Osborn was a menace and his father was just as bad. Both of them could use a good smack. But it seemed wrong to encourage the kid to fight, especially, he thought with a wince, as frail as Steve was. 

“All right, all right,” Christine said. “Take the shirt off and go lean against that pillar. I want to get some good shots of the arm, and a little beefcake goes a long way.” 

Bucky rolled his eyes, but did what she said, found himself in the sun, holding the button-down with two fingers over his shoulder while Christine prodded and positioned him like he was a floor model. 

You’d think, even in a home the size of Tony’s, it would be hard for the man to avoid him. 

Which wasn’t really what Tony was doing, but after a few days, it sort of felt like that. It’s not that Tony wasn’t around, because he was, even with having to duck into SI on a daily basis (Tony did not, apparently, have anything like a regular schedule, since he went in to SI on Saturday and twice on Sunday, but also missed Wednesday to go to the food pantry and slept in most mornings until at least eleven.) Even so, he spent a lot of time in the penthouse. 

Tony discovered that Steve didn’t know how to swim (lessons were expensive, and the old arm was water resistant -- meaning Bucky could shower -- but was not submersible, so Bucky couldn’t have taught Steve himself, even if he could afford passes to the pool) and took it on himself to teach Steve. 

Bucky had mostly laid on one of the deck chairs, soaked up sun, and watched. Bucky had gotten in the water once and discovered that the new arm was a lot lighter and that he actually could swim, if he had to. It would still be work, however, and not quite so much fun. That said, he made one hell of a rooster tail when he swiped the limb over the surface of the water and absolutely doused Tony as revenge for encouraging Steve to practice kicking in his direction. 

Tony had delivery brought in every night; Bucky hadn’t eaten anything at all out of a can or a crinkly package in several days. It was blissful. Steve, on the other hand, hadn’t exactly been pleased, but he was a picky eater, and luckily, Bucky discovered that his son had a weakness for lo-mein noodles that Tony was happy to indulge. 

So, yeah, it wasn’t like Tony was absent. After the first couple of days, Bucky stopped feeling like Tony was going to pounce on him at any second and started wondering if he actually would. Bucky felt oddly rejected. The closest they’d come to acting like they were in a relationship was the one night that Tony had queued up Brother Bear in the movie room for Steve, and then fallen asleep. In his sleep, he’d leaned against Bucky’s arm, and gradually ended up snuggled up with his head against Bucky’s thigh. 

Bucky sighed, looking at himself in the mirror. Clothes might not make the man, but the new threads did make him look good, he had to admit it. He dragged his hair back into a sloppy bun and used the plastic jar of hair wax to give his bangs some shape, then steeled himself. Time for some desperate measures. 

Tony was in his workshop, hunched over his computer, looking like a futuristic mad scientist -- he had a lab coat, even if he wasn’t actually wearing it. The music pounded low and fierce, heavy metal with throbbing bass and intense drums and a lot of screaming lyrics. 

“Hey,” Bucky said, leaning in the doorway. 

Tony startled, then moved his mouse. The music died and he turned in his chair. “Hey, yourself,” he said. As if he couldn’t help it, Tony did a slow rake, starting at Bucky’s feet and traveling the length of his body, eyes appreciative. 

That was a relief, at least. He was starting to think he’d imagined -- or lost -- Tony’s interest. Somehow, that was a worse thought than being Tony’s contracted love-slave. Well, love-indentured servant. Something like that. 

“Something I can do for you?” Tony asked when his eyes finally landed on Bucky’s face. 

Yes. You can kiss me drunk and fuck me stupid. Bucky shook the thought away before it could escape, then attempted a soft smile. “Um. Kinda thought this whole… “ He chewed his bottom lip, trying to figure out how to say it any other way. This was why he didn’t date; he was so fucking bad at it. “We’re… like supposed to be dating, right?” 

Tony spread his hands. “That’s the cover story, yes.” Tony’s gaze darted to Bucky’s face, then he glanced at his computer, if there was something more compelling there, and Bucky’s stomach tied itself in a Gordian knot of nerves. 

“So… shouldn’t we… erm. Date?” 

“Sure,” Tony said. “I’ll have Pepper get you a copy of my social engagements. A couple of those, and we’ll be set for publicity photos, plus the article Christine’s doing. It’ll be fine, don’t --” 

“That’s not what I mean,” Bucky said, pushing through it, because if he was going to be rejected, he was going to goddamn well earn it. He tipped his chin up and took a few steps closer, coming to a halt just at the edge of Tony’s workstation. “You didn’t believe me, did you?” 

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” Tony said, slow and deliberate. “You know that, right?” 

“I know.” There was no stopping him. He took Tony’s hands and bent down, capturing Tony’s mouth with his, stopping the words that were meaningless protest. He tasted Tony’s lip, felt the rough edge of his beard and mustache against his skin. He reached a hand up and cupped the side of Tony’s face, his thumb brushing over Tony’s jaw. “What if I do want to?” 

“Uhhh…” Tony pulled back, his eyes wide and soft. “I admit, it hadn’t been part of recent calculations. You…” 

“I’m an idiot,” Bucky said, his thumb stroking down Tony’s jaw and over his lower lip, red and swollen from kissing. 

“Nonsense,” Tony said, sharply. “There are perfect geniuses out there who don’t want to date me. Bruce, for instance. You’re hardly unique in that…” 

“Do I have to kiss you until you can’t stand up before you’ll believe me?” 

Tony gaped at him. “Um… no? But I wouldn’t mind if you tried it anyway?” 

Bucky’s blood heated. That was, finally, a clear invitation. And a challenge. He hoped it wasn’t desperately obvious that he had almost no idea what he was doing and was criminally out of practice. Hell with it. Bucky threw the life-preserver overboard and jumped. He put his knee between Tony’s legs, resting it on the chair, and tipped him back, slanting his mouth to take possession. “I want to,” he said, just before his lips came down on Tony’s. 

No gentle kiss, this, no tender exploration. He took control of Tony’s mouth, branding him, tasting him, devouring him. Tony’s hands came up and grabbed Bucky’s shoulders, pulling them closer. Bucky kissed Tony hungrily, like a starving man, and rumbled with delight as Tony opened under him, drawing him in. Tony’s hands were everywhere, touching, stroking down Bucky’s back, along his waist, up under his shirt to brush feather-light against his belly. Bucky sucked air, his skin shivering and his muscles jumping wherever Tony’s fingers left trails of sensation. 

The chair rolled backward under his weight until they were up against the desk and Bucky leaned in further, tipping the chair all the way back, practically climbing into Tony’s lap, wanting to feel the warmth of the man’s body against his, wanting, wanting… 

Bucky pulled back a little, so hard, so filled with desire, that he needed to breathe. He rested his forehead against Tony’s, panting. Tony struggled to sit up a little, then pressed his mouth to Bucky’s jaw, his throat, and came back to his mouth, stealing a quick kiss. And then another, coaxing and enticing until Bucky groaned in response. He crushed his mouth to Tony’s with raw need that suddenly raged out of control. He searched Tony with his tongue, a primitive sound coming up from his throat as he tugged at Tony’s clothes with frantic hands, eager to get his fingers against that skin. 

Tony arched into Bucky’s touch, so graceless and effortless that Bucky was undone. “Shit, shit,” he murmured, taking a deep, steadying breath. “Think you kissed me senseless, there, instead.” He laughed, weakly, and was relieved when Tony chuckled. 

“I’m hardly unaffected,” Tony said, panting and falling back against his chair with a soft whump. 

“So,” Bucky said, pushing himself out of the chair and half-sitting on Tony’s desk. “Date?” 

Tony rolled his tongue around in his mouth a moment, then looked up at Bucky from under his thick lashes. “Depends. Which answer will get me more of those kisses?” 

As always, @tisfan 

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