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perriewinklenerdie · 4 years

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Uncharacteristically happy (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Open Heart, Ethan Ramsey x MC

A/N: Hello, hello, hello! How we holding up, fam? I really hope you are all okay and taking care of yourselves <3 The idea for this fic came up after the last fic I posted, so I started playing with it and this is what came out of it :D

AO3 link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23808175

Tag list: @paleweasels, @hopelessromantic1352, @kittykatchoices, @valiantlychaoticbarbarian , @radlovedreamer , @usuallyamazinglyaverage, @strawberrwess @palestazure, @cordoniaqueensworld, @universallypizzataco, @princess-geek, @faithhasnowords, @mightyfangirlofthefandoms, @drakewalkerfantasy, @timmagicktoad, @laceandlula, @greywitchyshots, @llamasgrl, @gingerjane15, @bucket-harrington , @marywrites-things , @ethanplaysfavorites , @mfackenthal , @betelgeusebee , @simsvetements, @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction, @buzz-bee-buzz, @owleyes374, @cora-nova, @aworldoffandoms, @l822, @cream-ray, @ughhhxjazzy, @silverlitskies, @justendlesssummerfeels, @togetherwearerapture, @desmaranj, @edgiestwinter, @friedherringclodthing, @daisy-ashton, @waytooattuned, @choicesgremlin , @lapisreviewsstuff, @the-soot-sprite, @writerapprentice, @chasingrobbie, @choicesobsessedd, @x-kyne-x, @thisperfectmemory, @drakewalker04, @rookie-ramsey, @jlynn12273, @thepinknymph @dr-brianna-casey-valentine, @a-i-n-a-a-s-h

Enjoy! <3

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It’s three in the morning when the darkness is annihilated by his bedside lamp. He should still be sleeping, but the turmoil in his mind kept him awake for the better half of the past hours. With a heavy sigh, he sat up, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

After his father went to his room, Ethan practically threw himself towards his phone. He was greeted with her voice, making his pulse jump. She would tease him if she knew just how strong her hold on him was, so he was glad that she couldn’t see him in that moment.

“How was the chicken?” Claire asked, letting out a sigh he heard multiple of times when she finally relaxed after a long day.

“You’ll see for yourself tomorrow. I managed to save you a serving, Dad ate most of it.” he laughed, thinking about how much crap he would get from Alan if he heard him admitting that to her.

“Stop talking about food, it’s too late for me to sneak into the kitchen and grab a snack. Change the subject.” She laughed, scolding him the same amount as she was scolding herself for even bringing it up in the first place.

“What were you up to this evening?”

“Sienna baked cookies- dammit! We’re walking in circles.” Her laugh put a smile on his face, her words ringing in his mind, as they were about more than their conversation topics and they both knew it. “I will steal a couple and bring them to you tomorrow.”

“Those cookies of hers must be stellar if there are legends about them, circling around the hospital… and I know that from Naveen.” He rushed to explain, unsure how he felt about her being aware he knew a rumor or two.

Claire giggled shortly. “I’m sure you do. Anyway, it’s getting late and we both have an early shift in the morning. I’ll see you tomorrow, Ethan.” Her voice wrapped around his name, a tender caress that made his heart skip a beat, as cliché as that sounded.

“We’ll talk in the morning. Sleep well, Claire.”

He tried to occupy himself with something, anything to not think about her. The way her eyes sparkled when they moved around his kitchen with an ease of two people who were familiar with each other. The way she fit into his arms like she was made for him to hold her. How her lips moved against his, wiping his mind blank and leaving only the feeling of her. How she pulled him back inside and they made out against the wall like a pair of teenagers.

Yeah, she was definitely a good influence on him.

So that’s how he got to where he was now. Dead of the night, wide awake and getting out of bed. Sure, we went to work around 4.30 in the morning quite often, but it didn’t require him to wake up that early.

However, preparing a lunchbox for Claire, purely because he was an overachiever and he made his point to see a smile on her face, apparently required him to wake up at the break of dawn and move around his apartment as quietly as he could, because if his dad woke up and saw him putting so much effort into preparing food for her, he would not hear the end of it.

He rummaged through his cabinet, taking out a container for food, then took out the leftover chicken and placed it on the counter. Taking the knife into his hand, he proceeded to chop and transfer neatly cut pieces into the box, trying to make as little noise as he could. But even that turned out to be impossible.

“Ethan, is everything okay? It’s so early, you don’t have to leave for work for another hour, so why are you- oh.” Alan’s tired voice shattered the tranquility of the early morning, then the sleepy figure of an older man appeared in the doorway. He was about to ask further questions but was stopped when he saw what exactly it was that got his son out of the bed so early. “Oh.”

“Don’t ‘oh’ me. I’m just-“

“You’re just preparing food for her, because she is important to you. Because you care about her. We’ve been over this, Ethan.” The doctor sighed deeply, shaking his head at the easy smile that pulled on his lips.

“Okay, yes. I woke up an hour early to prepare food for her. Because I want to see her smile. There, happy?”

“Immensely.”

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Ethan used to be one of a few doctors that started his work this early. It was not the case, at least not anymore. He parked his car by the employee’s entrance and turned the engine off, taking a deep breath. He then reached for his bag, lunch box inside, and grabbed the door handle when he heard soft knocking on the window.

At first, all he heard was incoherent mumble; once he got out of the car, he could hear her clearly. “Good morning, Dr. Ramsey.” Claire greeted him lightly, leaning against the hood of his car with a cheeky grin.

“You are uncharacteristically happy this morning, Dr. Herondale. Did something happen?” he kept up their teasing banter, allowing himself to let his guard down just a little. She nodded her head from side to side, scrunching her nose as she pretended to think. Then her face lit up like she just remembered what happened between them the previous evening, and her cheeks flushed.

“I seem to remember a man walking me out of his apartment and some… activities that took place afterwards. He did also promise me we would talk about it… just didn’t say when.” She tapped her finger on her chin, then took a step towards him, dropping her voice to a whisper. “So… got any suggestions?”

His gaze dropped to her lips for a fraction of a second before he composed himself, clearing his throat. “Maybe… after work… it’s a rather long and personal conversation that he wants to have with you.”

Claire nudged his arm with her hand, smiling at him brightly. “Sounds like a plan.” Her eyes ran to the bag in his hand. “What do you have in there?”

“Your lunch.” He reached for the lunch box and handed it to her, smiling shyly. That prompted her to dig through her own bad, taking out a neatly folded pouch and placing it in his hand.

“And here are your cookies. Sienna will be amused to say the least when she wakes up and finds a few missing, but I’m willing to shoulder that burden.” She winked at him, then began walking backwards. “Come on, we have a new patient coming in today, Baz got their file yesterday.”

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Throughout the day, he would see her in the corridors or walking out of the patient’s rooms. Each time, an effortless smile made its way onto his lips, despite his best efforts to disguise it. It made him think about the reasons that made him decide to push her away in the first place. He remembered, very vividly, the moment he said to himself that they would be a distraction to each other, that any relationship between them other than that of being coworkers would put their jobs, their patients in jeopardy. As it turned out, it wasn’t necessarily a case, and he was being proven wrong every single day since he put distance between them.

Trying to stay away only made him notice her more. It’s a classic case of ‘the more you say you can’t do something, the more you want to do it anyway’. His eyes followed her around the room, his mind stopped for a moment every time she was near him, his focus was on every word she said. His whole being was tuned to her and her only, and while the quality of his work didn’t suffer, most of his energy was spent on him focusing on her, then him realizing that he was doing it and trying his best to stop himself from doing it. Needless to say, it became clear pretty much immediately that it was a futile effort, but Ethan Ramsey was a stubborn man who was convinced that with enough time and practice, he could learn to ignore her.

He couldn’t. And he didn’t.

Now, he had another point of view to consider. His meticulously crafted self-control broke like a fragile twig in one moment, and in the next, he had her in his arms, and he was kissing her, exactly like he wanted to do so many times. She didn’t push him away, he didn’t go back on his decision, and the air was lighter once more.

There was the creeping feeling of dread that followed him for the first few hours of his shift; the feeling of unease as to what their work together would look like, now that they stepped on the line he drew for them, and were one move away from leaving it behind them. All the insecurities he had, had vanished in the instant when they were diagnosing a patient and he realized that it has never been easier to do his job before. He knew that if they chose to start a relationship, they would have difficult moment, disagreements and full-blown arguments, so not that different than what they were doing now. The most important difference was that there would be much more at stakes, and that is what terrified him.

Claire’s steps seemed lighter, her demeanor brighter and her smile wider. She was working more efficiently, putting all of her focus on the patient when it was required of her, and crossed the boundaries with teasing him only slightly.

Before he knew it, lunch time rolled around, and he was alone in his office. His contemplation on what to eat was interrupted by an incoming message. Claire’s name flashed on the screen and there was a photo of her lunch attached to the message.

“Want some? I’ll trade you for one of the cookies.”

He looked at the pack of treats, sitting on his table, and replied, smirking.

“I’ll get the coffee started.”

Not even five minutes later, Claire walked into the room, closing the door behind her. She had already reheated the chicken and was now holding the box with one hand, two forks with the other. Sitting down on the couch, she waited for him to join her with two cups of coffee.

“I admire your willpower to not eat the cookies right away.” She said, handing him the fork. Ethan scoffed, shaking his head.

“Some of us can control themselves, Claire. It’s called willpower.”

“Sure they do.” Claire mused, taking her first bite. Her eyes grew wide, looking over to him quickly. “This is ridiculously good.” A wide grin grew on her face and he smiled triumphally, having achieved his goal.

“I’m glad you like it.”

“I’m not sure if you understand, Ethan. Now that I know you can cook, I’m not sure if I can survive without it.” She leaned towards him, nudging his arm with hers.

“Oh really.”

“I would have to be stupid to not use the knowledge of you being a genius in the kitchen somehow.” Shrugging her shoulders, she ran the tip of her finger around the rim of her coffee cup.

They ate in silence for a bit, enjoying the comfort of each other’s company. She stole one last piece of chicken, right from underneath his fork, and ate it while looking straight at him with a satisfied grin.

“How did the talk with your dad go?”

“You were right, I really needed to talk to him. Avoiding him was the worst decision.” Ethan wrapped his hands around the cup, the glass almost burning his skin. Claire took a bite out of her cookie, deep in her thoughts. “We’re not out of the woods yet, but we’re getting there.”

“You have no idea how happy for you I am.”

She finished her cookie and subconsciously started eyeing the one he was eating. He noticed her staring, cocking his eyebrow in a silent question.

“Wouldn’t you like to have another one, huh?” he teased her, trying to resist the playfully pleading look in her eyes. When she batted her eyelashes, he sighed, extending his hand towards her, offering her his cookie. She took a bite, their gazes firmly on one another. Nodding her head in a silent ‘thank you’, she finished eating. Ethan’s eyes dropped to her lips, like he was hypnotized. “You’ve got, uh… here…”

His thumb brushed the crumbs away from her skin, his touch lingering on her chin; he was now staring blatantly at her. The intensity of his gaze caused a shiver to run through her. She didn’t have time to ask him what he was thinking, though.

Ethan dove forward, grabbing her face with his both hands and pressing his lips to hers. He kissed her with wild abandonment, forgetting where they were, who they were and what they were supposed to be doing. She responded after a moment, placing one hand on his shoulder and the other one on his side, keeping her touch light.

He leaned away suddenly, realizing what was happening. His eyes were wide, a sliver of panic crossing his features. Claire moved away from him, then looked towards the door, checking to see if anyone was watching them, but the corridor was empty.

“Claire?” his voice was deep and hoarse. When she looked back at him, she noticed how dark his irises had gotten.

“Yes?”

“Come back here.” He pleaded, wrapping his arms around her and hauling her onto him, tilting her back against the couch slightly. This time round, she was kissing him back with just as much passion as he had for her, her fingers tangling into his hair and pulling with gentle force, drawing out a long moan from him.

He moved one hand beneath her coat, smoothing the material of her shirt with his hand. Claire lowered herself entirely onto the couch, pulling him on top of her. A giggle slipped past her lips when her fingers glided down the column of his neck and he broke the kiss, fidgeting away from her tickling. His laughter mixed with hers, ringing around them.

He was breathing heavily, allowing himself a moment to just stop everything and look at her. Her pupils were wide, cheeks flushed. Lips bruised from assaulting his repeatedly. He held himself up with one arm, tracing the lines of her face with his fingers. Memorizing her, imprinting the in his mind. He outlined her lips, his breath catching in his throat when she bit his fingertip playfully.

“My god, you’re addictive.” Ethan growled lowly, pulling her back to him. Her hold on him tightened, their kisses turning from slow and unhurried to rushed and hard, every touch fleeting, sending a hot flame through their bodies.

Claire moved her lips along the line of his jaw, traveling to his pulse point and staying there for a long while, slowly driving him crazy. Ethan’s hand, that up until this point was running up and down her side delicately, has now stopped at her thigh, gripping it tightly, a last-ditch effort to hold in a desperate sound that threatened to escape him. To contain the overwhelming desire that threatened to consume him whole, right there and then, on the couch in his office, where they were in a very public eye.

She brought her lips to his ear, breathing hotly against it as she whispered. “Maybe it’s not the best time and place for that kind of a conversation.” His kiss on the skin of her collarbone interrupted her trail of thought, a small moan slipping past her open lips. “Don’t you think?”

Ethan sighed heavily, sitting upright, pulling her up along with him. He brushed her hair behind her shoulders, caressing the skin on her cheek tenderly. Smiling seemed easier to him, now that he wasn’t carrying the heavy burden of his choice with him everywhere.

“You’re right. How about we try the dinner again?” he murmured, twisting a lock of her blonde hair between his fingers. Claire scrunched her nose, pretending to think about his offer.

“Are we going to get interrupted again?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “No surprise visits this time, I promise.”

She nodded slowly, looking at him for a long moment. Her hand rested on his thigh and her lips touched his in a soft kiss. Leaning away for just an inch, she whispered. “Okay.”

#ethan ramsey #open heart #ethan x mc #mc x ethan #open heart fanfiction #choices fanfiction #fic #fanfiction #dr. ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #mc x ethan ramsey

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shuruzy · 3 years

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i haven’t talked much about the game makey event that I’ve joined uhhhh well it started 2 nights ago! So I’ve been working on that, ye! For the event, the game has to center around a specific season... I’m doing winter! And this story’s plot at its most basic is: “go save a good sexy god from an evil sexy god.”

......so I went and subverted(?) the “kill god” trope by having the goal to be to SAVE a god... just to loop right back and say “well actually you still gotta kill this OTHER god”. Astounding.

Also this project’s called CotO (Call of the Overseer) so I’ll be tagging any logs & stuff as that if you wanna mute the tag or however that works.

Anyway I mostly wanted to mention this because I drew one of the playable characters that will be in the demo (the sprite isn’t by me, it’s from an official pack I bought. I just,, heheh... interpreted the sprite’s outfit which was actually kinda fun when I really sat down and thought of each piece. Some parts that I interpreted still feel a little odd as an outfit but this’ll do for now!):

So the idea for the full version of this game’s that you make a team of 3 out of 6 selectable characters (think trials of mana bc that’s exactly what I was inspired by when telling myself “this game might not be long enough to flesh out 6 characters at the same time”).

For the demo however, the player will have no choice tho ghkgn... You’ll be given Aadrios & 2 specific others.

Gamedev-wise, today’s plan is to work on writing the intro into the engine itself bc I have most of the general plot written in a doc but yeah.

Yesterday & the night before was mostly me just testing out stuff when it came to certain plugins I wanted in the demo. Now that I know I can mechanically make the game as intended (if it didn’t work out I would’ve changed things for the demo & tried to figure out the difficult stuff after the event), it’s time to Start Making the actual game ghkjgn.

#CotO #CotO textpost #character: aadrios #i havent designed the gods yet tho aaand you wont be able to see them in the demo tbh ghkgn

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storyofmychoices · 4 years

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By The Sea: Meeting Fienna

[Mal Volari x Daenarya Masterlist] [Mal’s Orphanage Series]

Characters: Mal Volari, Daenarya (F!MC, human), Fienna (OC)

Prompt: @choicesmonthlychallenge: time

Rating & TW: Teen (sexual situations implied) ; TW- child abandonment

Setting: This is part of the Orphanage series. It takes place after Mal & Daenarya save Rayden and Lydo. Not long after Adventures in Babysitting. Kade and Nia are babysitting this time.

Synopsis: Mal and Daenarya take a trip to Port Parnassus while Nia and Kade watch the orphanage. They make an unexpected discovery under the pier.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

“This trip—” Her voice trailed away, her toes wiggling into the cool sand beside the Port Parnassus docks. The soothing scent of the sea surrounded them, drawing them into its beauty. “I mean I miss the boys already, but—” Her arms draped over his neck. “We need this time together. I—”

“I know.” His lips collided with hers, the rest of her words getting lost in him. His hands fell to her hips, inching her back until she was pressed against one of the wooden pilings, supporting the docks above. “I’ve finally got you alone.”

Her eyes closed, her head falling back, relaxing under his touch.

The waves crashed against the wooden support behind her, spraying cool, seawater over them; though neither of them seemed to mind.

His beard tickled her, as he brushed a string of fiery kisses down her neck. His nimble fingers made quick work of the laces on her dress, the top slipping off her shoulders.

“Mmm, Mal.” She hummed his name, tangling her fingers in his hair. Despite the cool water surging around them, her cheeks were warm. Her eyes opened for a moment. She never tired of his adoring gaze; the way he looked at her like she was the only treasure in the world worth capturing. Her eyes began fluttering shut once more under the heat of his breath, but something caught her attention. Her voice was more urgent this time, “Mal!”

“Relax, no one’s coming down here. I got you, Kit.” His words were in short strings as he breathed between kisses across her collarbone.

“Mal!” Daenarya hit her palms against his chest, shoving him back.

“What!”

She shifted her head to the side, gesturing a few pilings over. A little girl, about seven or eight, sat in the sand staring out over the water.

He rested his arm on the post behind Daenarya, sighing as she relaced her dress. “So close.”

“We’ll just have to take this somewhere else, Mr. Magnificent.”

Their gaze shifted once again to the little girl who seemed to be in a daze, unaware of their presence.

“As much as I want to continue this as soon as possible—” his eyes wandered her until she lifted his chin up, smirking back at him, pulling him from his own trance. “I think we should check on her.”

The little girl drew mindless circles in the sand beside her, her gaze fixed on the water rushing in front of her. Her dark eyes seemed glazed over. Her warm brown skin appeared dry, licked by the spray of the saltwater. There were observable amounts of sand stuck in her unkempt, bushy black hair.

Daenarya knelt near her. “What are you looking at?”

“I’m looking for mermaids.”

“Oh! Well, that is very important. Do you think we can look too?”

She nodded. “I’m Fienna.”

“Nice to meet you, Fienna. I’m Daenarya. This is Mal.”

“Hi.” She continued her watch without breaking.

“Mermaids can be really shy.” Mal offered.

“I know.”

“Why are you looking for mermaids?” Daenarya asked curiously.

“So they can make me a mermaid too and take me with them”

Daenarya smiled at her innocence. She knew better than most that mermaids were very much real, but becoming one, that was entirely different.

“Won’t your mom and dad miss you if you go live with the mermaids?” Mal questioned.

“They’re gone,” she stated calmly like the words had no meaning.

“Where?”

Fienna shrugged. “They left.”

“Maybe we can help you look for them,” Daenarya suggested. “When did they leave?”

“A winter ago, I think. Maybe longer.” She answered, her words seemed indifferent. Everything she said sounded as if coming from someone in a trance, unconnected from reality.

“Where are you staying now?”

“Here. It’s mostly quiet and when big people come down, I can hide behind the sand wall. They don’t see me. I can’t miss the mermaids when they come.”

“Sweetheart, is there someplace we can take you? Anyone in town that can look after you until your parents come back?” Daenarya brushed Fienna’s hair away from her face.

“Once the mermaids come, everything will be okay.” Fienna nodded, seemingly to convenience herself of what she had said. Her voice got quieter, “Everything will be okay when the mermaids come.”

Daenarya’s hand fell over her heart, which broke at her words. The little girl had survived by blocking out her emotions and channeling all of her energy on a promise that wasn’t going to come true.

The lapping waves kept a steady rhythm as the three of them watched the horizon for signs of mermaids.

Mal shifted closer to Daenarya, his voice just a whisper in her ear. “We should ask around, but it doesn’t sound like anyone even knows she’s down here. I think we should take her back with us. There aren’t any safe orphanages here.”

“I think so too.” Her gaze shifted to Fienna; the little girl certainly needed a safe place to live, the docks were no place for her, but getting her to leave the sea might not be an easy thing to do. Right now, it was the only hope she had to hold on to.

[Find Part Two Here]

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Perma tags: @lilyoffandoms ; @raleighcarrera ; @mfackenthal ; @the-soot-sprite ; @virtuallytakenby ; @zeniamiii ; @kaavyaethanramsey; @choicesobsessed; @xjustin-ethansgirliex ; @caseyvalentineramsey; @trappedinfandoms; @anotherbeingsworld ; @tyrils-star

Blades Tags: @princess-geek ; @brightpinkpeppercorn ; @missameliep ; @mvalentine; @walkerswhiskeygirl ; @nyastarlight ; @edgiestwinter

#Mal Volari #Mal Volari x MC #blades of light and shadow #Bolas #blades #the orphanage #fan fiction #daenarya #mal x daenarya #mal x mc #fienna

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theroyalweisme · 4 years

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The Christmas Song

So... Firstly... I want to thank @leelee10898 for organizing this. I can bet herding us writers can’t be an easy task!

Next... Kudos to ALLLLLLL the writers participating in the 12 Days of Fictmas! This was so much fun for me... I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did!

Now! I got The Christmas Song... Everyone knows the Nat King Cole version (and I LOVE that version). But I fell in love with this version while writing this little diddy.

Tagging: @hopefulmoonobject @allaboutchoices @zaffrenotes @cordoniantrash @burnsoslow @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @msjr0119 @texaskitten30 @janezillow @the-soot-sprite @mskaneko @blackcatkita @darley1101 @thecordoniandiaries @speedyoperarascalparty @ao719 @leelee10898 @cocomaxley @annekebbphotography @brightpinkpeppercorn @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @alj4890 @bbrandy2002 @cordoniansgonewild @god-save-the-keen @debramcg1106 @emichelle @dangerouseggseagleartisan @innerpostmentality @beardedoafdonutwagon @desiree-0816 @addictedtodrakefanfic My perma tags: @mfackenthal @enmchoices @writtenbycandy @alwaysthebestchoice @craftytacotrashdream @umccall71 @mitalijoshi @blackcatkita @scarlettedragon @ranishajay @hopefulmoonobject @flowerpowell

Now onto the Fic! Please enjoy some Leo and Sabrina from Duties of a Prince... in the future... sometime 😉

Word count: ~ 1500 words

The door creaked as he pushed his way into the too-hot apartment, the heat hitting his face as he stepped over the threshold as quietly as possible. A blocky head pushed insistently at his legs, jingling softly in the darkened rooms. Green eyes glanced down to see the sweet face of Killer, a set of plush reindeer antlers perched on her head.

“What did your momma do to you, Girl?” He chuckled gently before pulling the offending decorations off of the pup. Killer whimpered gently before nudging him for a pat on the head. “I know… I know… C’mon, take me to your master.”

The dog seemed to grin up at him as she led him through the apartments and through another heavy door.

The heat seemed to rise another several degrees as he took in the room around him. A large fir tree in the corner with lights twinkling and blue and silver garland wrapping around it, ornaments laying just off to the side waiting for attention, saturated the room with a woodsy scent. Accenting the smell of the tree was the wood crackling in the fireplace, the mantel adorned with small knickknacks of Santa, Frosty, Rudolph and other Christmas mainstays, 4 stockings hanging below with initials stitch into the red fabric, “L” “S” “K” and a simple blank stocking.

His smile grew as his gaze fell to the oversized couch taking up most of the front of the room. Curled around a bowl of popped corn was the woman he longed to see all day, her blond hair haphazardly piled on the top of her head, one hand resting under her ballooned belly, while another was wrapped in a string of the popped treat. His large hand brushed back strands of the blond hair that had draped over her face, causing her to stir gently.

“Brina…” he whispered, brushing against her cheek again. “C’mon, Beautiful… let’s go to bed…”

Her head shook slightly as she groaned negatively at him. His grin grew as he gently unwound her hand from the popped corn string, winding the strand and placing it and the large bowl on the table before the couch. Gently, he slid his hands under her shoulders and knees before lifting her from the leather.

“Leo!” she screeched, her ice-blue eyes snapping awake at the sudden movement. “Jesus Christ put me down! You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“You’re as light as a feather, Beautiful,” he grinned down at her. “Don’t kid yourself.”

Her eyes narrowed at him as he swept through the apartments and into their large bedroom.

“Would you like me to start a fire in here too?” he asked as he slipped her between the covers on the dominating four-posted bed. Soft snoring drifted up from the pillows on the bed, her blond hair spilling over the covers. His smile was soft as he leaned in and grazed a kiss to her forehead. “G’night, Beautiful.”

-------

Soft Christmas music filled the room as Sabrina watched all the glistening gowns were swept across the ballroom floor in front of her for the Christmas Eve ball. Her lip twisting gently in a scowl as her hands rubbed her very swollen belly in gentle circles. Her shoulders tensed as a pair of strong hands suddenly found their way to her shoulders and relaxed as the scent of the wind and sea filled her nose.

“What’s wrong, Beautiful?” Leo’s strong voice crooned into her hair as he rested his chin on the top of her head.

“Beyond being as big as a whale?” she griped owlishly. “My back’s bugging me today…”

Strong fingers dug into her sore lower back as he brushed his clean-shaven cheek against her neck, causing an involuntary shiver to course down her spine.

“Don’t insult my wife like that,” he warned before playfully nipping at her ear. “I’m far too vain to be married to a whale.”

“Your highnesses have been requested on the dance floor,” Bastien’s voice broken into their small world making Leo’s back straighten as he cleared his throat.

“Of course,” he coughed gently before holding his hand out to Sabrina. “May I have this dance, Beautiful?”

“Do you worst, Pretty Boy,” her eyes twinkled with mischief as she laid her hand in his, squealing as he spun her into his side.

“Now you’ve done it, Princess,” Bastien chuckled as he cleared a path to the dance floor for the young couple. Piano notes with a light guitar riff sounded throughout the room as Leo drew his Princess to his chest, wrapping one arm around her lower back while the other drew her hand into his chest. His lips stayed near to her ear as he softly sang about chestnuts over fires and Jack Frost.

“Have you ever even tried roasted chestnuts, Leo?” she grinned up at him gently.

“I didn’t actually know this was a thing,” he chuckled before spinning her away from him before pulling her even closer than before.

“My mom used to have roasted chestnuts ready for me as soon as I got home from school in the Christmas season,” she whispered. “They were always so warm, she used to say they were her hug in food form.”

“I wish I could have met her, Beautiful,” he brushed a single wayward tear from her cheek as they continued to sway, more than dance, to the music around them.

“She would’ve- oof…” she dropped her hand resting on his strong chest to the balloon between them.

“Sabrina?” Leo’s hands came up to her shoulders as worry filled his vibrant green eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing…” she waved him off. “Just Braxton Hicks… Honestly, Leo, it’s nothing.”

“You’re sure…?” Sabrina lifted her thumb to smooth out the furrow that was forming between his eyes.

“I’m sure,” her chuckle was soft as she pulled his arms back around her. “Just a twinge. They’ve been happening on and off since yesterday. I talked to the doctor, she said that it was still too early and not to worry myself.”

“Just promise me you’ll tell me if it gets worse?” he pleaded gently with her.

“I promise,” her smile placating. She cleared her throat gently to hide her wince at the next twinge in her core before brushing a piece of hair from his forehead. His green eyes narrowing in suspicion as he continued to dance her around the ballroom.

As the song finally began to wind down Sabrina tightened her grip on his hand and shoulder, biting her lip to keep from squeaking out in shock and pain.

“Highness?” Bastien’s voice came from behind Leo’s shoulder, the young man’s eyes searching out the older ones. “May I recommend we get you to the medical wing?”

“Not a bad idea, Bas,” she grinned up at him, stepping past Leo to take the older man’s outstretched arm.

“Sabrina…?” Leo’s worried voice carried solidly over the whispers now starting around them.

“My water broke, Pretty Boy,” she smiled through a wince as the next contraction hit her. “This baby wants to spend Christmas in the real world.”

Leo stood rooted in place for a beat before a strong hand patted his back roughly.

“You should catch up with them, Son,” his father’s voice broke through the fog as he followed Leo’s gaze to the doorway Sabrina had disappeared through. “Do not let her go through this alone.”

“But…” Leo’s gaze moved from the doorway to meet his father’s. “I’m not sure I’m ready.”

“I’m not sure that baby cares, Leo,” Constantine chuckled. “Now, go and get the best present you’ll receive all year.”

The sentence hadn’t fully left his father’s mouth as Leo sprinted towards the door.

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

“He’s perfect…” Sabrina cooed down at the tiny bundle resting softly on her chest, her index finger tracing a perfect cupid’s bow on the tiny puckered mouth.

“You’re perfect,” Leo corrected, pressing a gentle kiss on her disheveled head. “I’m so proud of you, Brina. You barely even swore to castrate me.”

Her gentle laughter brought a smile to his own face. The jostling of her chest gently waking the babe.

“Hey there, little one,” Leo crooned down at his son. “I’m your papa and you will soon learn that your momma is the best woman that God has ever placed on this earth.”

“Don’t you forget it,” she grinned up at her husband. Over his shoulder she noticed the large wall clock, 3:45 am. “Leo… Look… It’s Christmas Day.”

“Well, look at that!” He exclaimed, rubbing the babe’s downy head. “You share a birthday with the baby Jesus. You lucky little boy.”

“I have the perfect Christmas name for him,” she half-whispered her blue eyes twinkling in the low lights of their room. Leo’s head nodding to her to continue. “Merry Christmas, Nikolas Michael Constantine Rys. Welcome to the world.”

#choices 12 days of fictmas #choices #choices: stories you play #choices fandom #duties of a prince #leo x sabrina #christmas time #the christmas song #brothers #leo rys

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giasonesdream · 6 years

Text

I Can’t Even

Pairing: Jeongguk x Taehyung, Taehyung x Jimin

Summary: A story where Jimin is the side-piece and he knows it, Taehyung is a shit boyfriend and he knows it, and Jeongguk thinks Taehyung is the best boyfriend ever...(Explicit)

Crossposted on AO3 and based off this still amazing FMV

tagged: Smut, taekook, vmin, cheating, videotaping, Angst, hella sad, read at your own risk

Word Count: 6679 (14 fucking pages what glue was I even on when I wrote this wtf)

You: hey I thought you were coming over??

Jeongguk sends the message without any hesitance. He is tired from the long day of classes and his part-time job at the university’s bookstore, and all he wants to do is cuddle up with his stupid boyfriend and preferably watch an even stupider movie (“I don’t think ‘stupider’ is a word, though,” Taehyung would say in retaliation).

But said boyfriend is not sprawled out over his couch when he gets back to his apartment, and he usually always beats Jeongguk home.

Not a minute later, his phone dings! in reply:

taetae<3: haha yeah..sorry? something came up. I’m pretty busy rn

Jeongguk isn’t given time to respond when Taehyung shoots back with:

taetae<3: ill come over tomorrow and bring your favorite cookies :))

Heaving a sigh, Jeongguk sinks into the cushion of his sofa. He can already feel the crumbs of the flaky almond cookies tumble from his chin, making him a proper mess that Taehyung will try to tease him for. “Now we match,” he would say back, feigning annoyance before placing a sloppy kiss on the other’s cheek, the evidence of his lips being the crumbs that stick to Taehyung’s golden skin.

You: oh okay, I love u bby

taetae<3: ill ttyl

taetae<3: <3

He tosses his phone onto the coffee table in front of him, only giving himself a moment of silence before he pushes himself off the couch, ready to wander around and enjoy his weekend freedom.

Meanwhile, Taehyung’s heart drops in his chest as the message shows that Jeongguk has seen it. He isn’t lying - he truly does love his boyfriend. But that is where the truth ends, Taehyung knows. He stares at the chat right as he gets a notification from a number saved conspicuously as Pizza Hut. When Taehyung clicks on the chat, the first new thing to pop up is a photo attachment that loads to show something very unrelated to pizza (though, maybe just as mouthwatering):

Jimin is lying on his bed, a black hoodie that looks suspiciously like one that Taehyung had left at his place on his chest and the hood covering his eyes, only to leave the view of parted, plump and full lips. Then the messages read:

Pizza Hut: Im waiting..

Pizza Hut: babe i need u

Taehyung still feels a bit guilty, honestly...but Jimin is so goddamn enticing, tempting. It’s hard for him not to shoot up from his table in the tutoring center, waving goodbye to Namjoon as he shrugs on his jacket and makes his way out of the building and off campus in the opposite direction of his boyfriend.

You: omw

Jimin busies himself with scrolling angrily through photos of a happy couple he has known for, what, two years now? If he recalls correctly (and there’s no interpreting this wrong, he fucking remembers) he was the one to help Taehyung and Jeongguk become friends. Taehyung had been the spritely young man in his general education calc class that had a voice deep enough to rattle in his bones (and he has no shame in admitting he’d wanted to drop to his knees instantly for him), and Jeongguk was the reserved, polite, adorable kid in his first level hip hop dance class that seemed to contain the upper body strength of someone twice his size. He hadn’t seen any harm in having the two meet each other especially since Taehyung had spoken to him first, shown interest in him fucking first.

But here he is, glaring at a picture of Jeongguk’s selfie, one that just so happens to show the hickies scattered on the side of his neck as if Taehyung has never done that to him either.

When he gets another text from Taehyung informing him he’s just five minutes away, Jimin slides from his bed to grab the equipment, heart beat picking up a little at the excitement of his plan. His dresser stands on the wall in front of his bed, and there he has a makeshift tripod constructed to hold the video camera he’d been gifted with before he started university.

When the red light signifies the camera is recording, he paces, unsure of what to do exactly. There’s some sort of adrenaline that pumps his veins even though he knows there’s more to come. He finally opts for sitting on the foot of his bed, flopping back. Words flow from his mouth before he even knows it.

“Jeonggukie,” he sighs. He hopes he’s speaking loud enough for the camera to hear. “I’ve been hooking up with this guy...he’s the best I ever had.” There’s a smile on his lips that he knows the camera cannot see. His mind wanders to the times he’s spent with Taehyung, getting fucked with his tongue, his fingers, his cock; the smallest moan escapes his lips, the blood traveling south. “So good…”and this moan isn’t as clipped.

He cuts his imagination short, sitting up and running his fingers through the black strands as he looks at the camera. He smiles, pinkie slipping between his lips. “I can’t wait for you to meet him.”

And by the grace of whatever deity looks down on Jimin fondly, he hears a faint knock on his apartment door. He gives one last wink to the camera before scurrying off to answer the door.

Jimin still isn’t used to the fiery red of Taehyung’s hair as it simply sits on his head, no need to be styled, unlike with Jimin’s hair. There needs to be some effort with Jimin. Taehyung is flawless, and Jimin is the luckiest to be able to witness that perfection.

“Hey.” Taehyung greets simply, though his voice is low and his eyes are dark. He takes a step forward, not waiting to be allowed into the living room.

“Hi.” Jimin smiles sweetly because he is always so excited whenever he gets to see this man in front of him. Oh, how he’s changed in the last two years that they have known each other. The thin sweater Taehyung wears now hangs nicely from his broad shoulders, clinging to his chest just a bit tighter than how they used to. His neck is thicker, so much room to mark him.

But he knows he can’t…

Jimin pushes those thoughts aside as he wraps one hand around that neck to drag Taehyung into a kiss. It starts out innocent enough -a happy greeting-, but when Jimin pulls back to breathe, the other is already chasing after him, slipping his tongue into the parted, full lips he spent the whole walk thinking about. He had a thing for biting, and the lips were never left unscathed...especially when they looked absolutely sinful when blistery and red, swollen from abuse.

Taehyung pulls back then, his eyes fluttering open to no more than half-lidded as he tugs on the fabric that practically swallows the other whole. “You have my hoodie,” he states simply.

They’re both panting, and Jimin is slowly starting to lose his train of thought, so he nods with a smile. “Looks good on me, right?”

“Shit, is that even a question?” Taehyung yanks Jimin forward so their bodies are molded together, every inch meeting from head to toe. “Gonna let me fuck you against the wall? Let my sweater keep you nice and warm while I work you open?”

God, that mouth. It’s the very thing that drew Jimin in and it wouldn’t be just perfect if it didn’t eat him alive with every word uttered. He shivers at the idea; it’s tempting, that’s for sure.

“M-maybe later.” His breath hitches. “But I need to show you something in my room first.” There’s a frown to Taehyung’s features that makes Jimin take his hand and lead him down a very familiar path to Jimin’s bedroom.

Taehyung doesn’t notice it first, his eyes staying on the back of Jimin’s head as they enter. It isn’t until he’s guided to sit on the foot of his bed that Taehyung realizes the camera looking him in the eyes. With an eyebrow arched, Jimin explains.

“I wanted to try something different.” Jimin sits on his knees next to him, facing his profile as he leans in to whisper in the other’s ear. “I want something to watch when you’re gone off playing ‘Boyfriend’ with Jeongguk.”

Taehyung turns his head at the name mentioned, face colliding with Jimin’s as he breathes the other in. Some part of him aches at the reminder of what he’s doing, but the lust burns more potently, and the idea of punishing this small boy comes to mind. “Told you not to talk about him.”

Their lips are hairsbreadth apart, and Jimin is too focused on how they are touching his. “I’m sorry.” The apology sounds sweetly insincere. “Should I turn the camera off?”

Taehyung’s head shake is subtle but enough since Jimin was on him again, pressing their lips together as the kiss turned open, desperate. He climbs to straddle Taehyung, a lick of fire trailing up his spine at how those hands encompass his waist so perfectly, so securely, like he wouldn’t be able to go anywhere even if he wanted to. And Taehyung swallows his moan when his hands move from Jimin’s hips and around to his ass, nails scratching into the denim fabric when he pulls the other closer.

Some part of Jimin wants to lose himself in the kiss, the way Taehyung’s tongue licks at the inside of his mouth and claims him; he wants to keep grinding down on both their growing lengths, but there’s too many obstacles. Too many layers of clothes. Taehyung must have the same thought as his hands push underneath the hoodie to find bare skin, dragging his fingers up the smooth skin of his back before pulling away.

“Off,” is the only word Taehyung gives, but Jimin understands, slides off the man’s lap to tug off the hoodie and go for the buttons of his jeans. He can feel those dark, deep eyes on him, watching his rather graceless stripshow and Jimin cannot stop the heat that rises up his chest. He plans on complaining once he’s naked, but after his underwear pool at his ankles, hands find their way back to Jimin’s waist, tugging him back into Taehyung’s lap and bringing their mouths together again.

“What about...you?” Jimin asks between kisses.

Taehyung rests his forehead against Jimin’s, panting and trying hard to find some semblance of control. “What do you want me to do?”

A surprised groan falls from Jimin’s lips. So it’s that kind of night, one where Taehyung will make it seem like the other has all the power. “Tell me what you want,” he’ll say; “How and where do you want me?” This kind of power is hardly ever in Jimin’s court, and it’s almost dizzying how fucking hot it gets him.

After a heavy sigh, Jimin says, “T-take your clothes off and sit back down. Wanna make you feel good.”

An obedient Taehyung is rare, Jimin knows this. But that’s what makes the times when the taller pulls out the choker, holds his wrist together, all the more worth it. Not to say that Jimin doesn’t absolutely love the Taehyung that likes to tease, laugh when he begs for more, pulls back just to edge the pleasure until it’s unbearable- no. Jimin has jerked off so many times to a memory of Taehyung pinning his body down and taking what he wants with reckless abandon.

Taehyung pulls at his clothes unceremoniously, subtle glances to the camera that the other catches every second. Jimin can see the cogs turning in that perfect head, and he’s about to ask what he’s thinking.

“Is this for you only?”

The question seems innocent, but a pang of worry creeps into Jimin’s mind. Had he put two and two together?

“It’s just that...you’d look so pretty and if the camera missed anything-”

Jimin promptly shuts the other up with his tongue in his mouth, both with happiness at how willing Taehyung is to try this out, but also at the twitch of his own cock at the idea of having the camera focused solely on him and what he can do to the other man. There’s no doubt about it that Jimin likes to watch himself given he plans on making a career out of observing and making note of the way his body moves and how it can be better, so it doesn’t surprise anyone that he may or may not have a few videos of himself masturbating, fingering himself or using some of his favourite toys (there was a prostate massager he bought and tried out with Taehyung. It was then categorized as a toy for special times because that thing was powerful).

When they finally part, Taehyung stands and reaches for the camera, plopping back down on the bed and ignoring the squeak as he turns to focus the camera on Jimin. “As you were,” he says with a chuckle.

There’s a sultry glint to Jimin’s eyes, a smile none too pure as he sinks to his knees, first holding Taehyung’s gaze before giving a wink to the camera as he starts of trail of soft pecks on the inside of Taehyung’s thighs.

It doesn’t even feel real when Taehyung watches everything from the viewfinder, can’t comprehend that the face he sees in the camera is the same one that is between his legs at this very instant. That is, until Jimin’s lips come to kiss Taehyung’s stiff cock. It’s a featherlight touch, one he hardly feels but it only makes him ache for more. Lucky for Taehyung, Jimin doesn’t tease all that much, and soon enough the other licks up the underside until he can wrap his lips around the head.

Taehyung nearly loses his grip on the device in his hand, stuck between wanting to watch the man as he actually takes his time to thoroughly coat his dick or watch it all unfold through the viewfinder. His brain chooses for him, opting to weave his fingers through the raven strands as he watches Jimin’s head bob up and down his length.

The elder revels in the low, husky sounds that come from the man above him, how his voice reverberates through his body, allows him to feel just as much as he can hear how much he affects Kim Taehyung. The hand in his hair tightens a fraction when Jimin feels he can take more of the other’s cock, fighting back his gag reflex and never stopping the swirl of his tongue as he goes further down. Curses fly out frantically and it encases the smaller man on his knees, the sounds going to his own hard member, and he needs some type of friction to alleviate the pressure. The hand not holding Taehyung’s dick sits in a fist on his own thigh, itching to just move and palm at his own boner- no. No, Taehyung will make him feel good. He always does.

Taehyung bucks his hips up just as Jimin finally manages him down his throat, swallowing thickly at the intrusion and trying hard not force him out. It feels too good, Jimin’s mouth. So wet, hot, addictive, Taehyung just wants to continue. But when he looks through the camera just as Jimin looks up, he knows they can’t keep this up for long. He wants to fuck Jimin every way he knows how; fucking needs to.

With the grip he has on Jimin’s scalp, he tugs the man off his cock, a string of saliva connecting his bottom, swollen lip to the red and angry head. He doesn’t give his lover a minute to breathe before he drags Jimin into a searing kiss, probably not getting a good angle with the camera, but at this very moment, fuck the camera.

Jimin desperately needs air but also desperately needs to keep kissing Taehyung, and a whimper bubbles in his chest as his body fights for its basic necessity. Taehyung tears them apart, pupils wide and focused on the dishevelled man in front of him. His voice is a growl when he speaks.

“Put the camera back and lay on the bed.”

When Jimin feels level-headed enough, he pouts, knowing good and well how great he must look right now. “But I thought I was in charge tonight.”

The red head laughs even though there’s nothing amusing about Jimin’s statement. He only gives a nod before standing up, the few inches he has on the other boy playing well into the dominant act as he leans down, their faces leveled with each other.

“Be a good boy and put the fucking camera back and lay on the fucking bed.”

Without a word, Jimin does as he is told, taking the camera to put back on his dresser and walking past Taehyung, ready to sit down when the other tells him to lay “on his stomach”.

He rolls over, lying horizontally across the bed so that the camera can easily capture their profiles. Jimin feels the bed dip underneath him and waits in anticipation.

He starts at the nape of Jimin's neck, a soft peck to contrast the hard member that slots between Jimin's cheeks. Taehyung loves when Jimin melts under his touch, becomes relaxed and sated with the softest touches. He keeps going, creating a searing path down the elder's spine, eyes focused on the way his muscles seem to simultaneously relax and tense with his actions.

When he gets to Jimin's ass, he stops, attentive to the boy of the other's head. "Why so tense?" he taunts, grabbing the globes of Jimin's ass and spreading them apart, kneading them just to hear how Jimin's breath stutter.

Park Jimin, the unabashed fiend he is, has the nerve to act shy, pleading with a small voice and reluctant to look back and meet the eyes of the man that makes him feel insane with pleasure.

And Kim Taehyung, the smart man he is, falls for it every goddamn time.

The first long lick to his hole leaves Jimin with tight muscles, as if he's never been eaten out before. On the contrary, Taehyung was the master at using his tongue in the most sinful, dirty ways imaginable. Every time would always feel like the first.

With his hands resting at Jimin's hips, Taehyung gives another tentative lick, making sure to start at his perineum, the tip of his tongue getting caught on his rim.

"Shit," Jimin hisses, clenching around air while his dick twitches where it's trapped between him and the bed. "Just...fuck...please."

He shivers at the responding chuckle, Taehyung's hot breath fanning across his hole. "Want me to fuck you with my tongue? Get you nice and wet for me cock?"

The heat that shoots up his spine leaves Jimin panting, the images in his head getting him even more eager for the other's tongue. He nods frantically , pressing his cheek into the cotton of his duvet. When he catches the red light of the camera, he grins, another bout of lust to fuel him when he thinks about how incredible they must look and-

"Oh, fuck!" keens the elder, jerking away from the pleasure as Taehyung dives in, sucking at his rim and dipping the wet muscle inside only to pull it out. Always the tease even when he's getting down to business.

His eyes are closed to the world, focusing on the pleasure the other gives him. He doesn't even try to hold back the noises, the moans, whimpers, groans, breathy cries. When Taehyung finally licks inside him, pushing his tongue in to stretch his walls, Jimin falls silent, mouth open and fingers curling into the sheets.

Taehyung groans low when he feels Jimin clench around him, hardly able to fuck him properly. "Relax, baby," he soothes before he's going back in to thrust his muscle in and out.

It's too much, the heat searing Jimin's skin and there is no relief in sight. His heart hammers in his chest, blood ringing in his ears and dick curled tightly to his stomach. He needs to relieve some of the pressure, rub against his bed, get a hand around himself- something. But when he tries to wriggle away, Taehyung only clamps down on his hips more, trapping him to just take whatever the other will give him, and Jimin is never sure if he's ready for the onslaught.

And then he feels a finger press inside beside his tongue, and a tremor racks through his body, burying his face in his elbow while white spots dance behind his closed eyelids.

Jimin's words are muffled, but Taehyung think the other is saying "please" over and over. He could stay back here for all of eternity, making the other fall apart on his tongue and fingers. But the way his walls flutter around him, he cannot exactly forget how incredible Jimin feels around his cock.

He needs to fuck him into the mattress. Fucking yesterday.

Taehyung pulls away, admiring the way the other whines but ultimately stays in place. He quickly grabs the bottle of lube he knows is stashed under Jimin's pillow (easy access is how Jimin explains it) and crawls back to hover over the boy panting with a slight sheen of sweat coating his fair skin.

"Want something, gorgeous?" taunts the red head, watching as the other arches his back in search of him while he slicks up his fingers. "You are in charge, after all," he whispers into Jimin's ear, faintly feeling the goosebumps that rise under his light touch.

There's a moment of silence where Jimin thinks of what to say: "get your tongue back in me", "tear me apart", "fuck me so I can feel it for days". But his brain doesn't work so well when he's already high like this, not being able to make his mouth work properly when his brain is damn near fried. "Fuck me," he commands simply, eyes fluttering to meet Taehyung's.

The answer must be good enough for him, a lazy smirk on his lips as he leans down to nibble at Jimin's neck, all the while running his lube coated fingers over his already spit-slick entrance. He can tell the elder is holding his breath, waiting to be breached. It would be amusing to Taehyung if he wasn't also holding some crazy amount of self-control himself.

The first finger goes in easily, a sigh of relief escaping Jimin's bloodshot lips. He looks sedated, calm. That changes, however, when Taehyung decides that Jimin can take another, the fit more snug as he curls two long fingers deep inside the silk walls of his ass. Black strands matting to his forehead, Jimin seems to be in some state of euphoria with Taehyung’s fingers massaging at his inner walls. Satisfyingly beautiful.

The furrow in Jimin’s brow deepens when Taehyung expertly grazes the other’s prostate, still thrusting slowly, making sure to stroke at that bundle of nerves every time. He allows the boy under him to twist about, trying to get his fingers deeper, make him go harder. With a frustrated sigh, Jimin snarls.

“Harder, please.”

And there’s that laugh, the one that both makes Jimin feel safe and riles him up all in one. “Since you asked so nicely…”

A slight burn comes when Taehyung adds the third finger, making Jimin clamp around him, inhaling deeply.

Fuck, he would feel so amazing around Taehyung’s cock.

The redhead leaves wet kisses on Jimin’s shoulder, helping him to loosen up so Taehyung can prepare him until all he feels is pleasure. Not a minute later and Jimin is back to moaning, his voice angelic and filthy all at once, making Taehyung’s neglected cock twitch in excitement. He doesn’t think he can wait any longer, burying his fingers inside to press at Jimin’s prostate until he’s drawn tight, only a squeak to get past his lips.

Jimin threads his fingers through the fiery tresses, yanking Taehyung down so he can whisper into the other’s mouth, “Get your dick inside me now.”

Taehyung obeys, quickly removing his fingers and grabbing the bottle to pour some lube onto his member, hissing slightly at the cool liquid that meets hot flesh. He coats his dick evenly, mixing in the lube with the precum that’s pooled at the head before he falls back over Jimin, grabbing his cheeks to spread him, watch the way his hole flutters.

“Shit, baby,” Taehyung hisses, taking one hand away to guide himself in. “Gonna fuck you open so you feel me for days.” He doesn’t give Jimin much time to respond with anything other than a whine as he thrusts forward, not stopping until he’s completely sheathed in Jimin’s tight, wet heat. A stream of curses leave him before he even realizes, his head falling to rest at the nape of Jimin’s neck.

The other isn’t faring so well, either, breathing uneven as his body tries to adjust to Taehyung’s size, the feeling of him bottoming out something he can never get used to. He stays deathly still for what feels like hours before he starts to push back even though Taehyung hasn’t left him much room.

“Move, Tae,” Jimin pleads, head dropped between his shoulders.

And, of course, Taehyung does as he’s told because he doesn’t need to be told twice. He starts slow, making sure Jimin feels every inch as it slides out and back inside. But with the way Jimin contracts around him, Taehyung isn’t sure how long he can keep this up. The elder seems to hold the same sentiment.

Taehyung feels a smaller hand scramble to grab to his ass, using his strength to drag Taehyung impossibly deeper. “Harder, fuck.” And again...who is Taehyung to deny his baby what he wants?

Jimin gets the breath knocked out of him when Taehyung snaps his hips harshly, but he loves it. Loves the sting when the other’s hip slam against his ass. Their bodies fit so perfectly together, uneven breaths synced to a rhythm that just flows. Jimin would be lying if he didn’t admit that he just loves them together. Thinks it’s perfection, just like the man pounding into his ass.

His vision goes white when Taehyung shifts and nails his prostate. His head falls to the bed, muffled screams and professions of “there, there, there,” leave his mouth with his eyes screwed shut. But Taehyung must hear him since he pulls back until he’s on his knees, grabbing the other’s hips to pick up his pace.

Jimin’s nails dig into Taehyung’s skin, and they both forget the younger’s rule of no marking, because how can he explain to Jeongguk why there are scratches on his ass like that? Jimin needs both hands to clamour at the sheets, though, white-knuckling the duvet while Taehyung shows no signs of slowing down.

He’s burning up from the inside out, fire prickling his every nerve, and he can’t take it. “Tae,” he mumbles weakly, his brain short-circuiting while he gets pounded into the mattress. There’s no way he won’t feel this in every muscle of his being. Fuck.

Eyes fluttering open, Jimin meets the camera that stares them down once again, and a wicked idea enters his hardly functioning brain. With trembling hands, Jimin palms at Taehyung’s hip, pushing him away.

Taehyung stops immediately, worry painting his features as he pulls away and examines the boy beneath him. “You okay? Something wrong?”

If Jimin wasn’t such an diabolical shit, he would probably find this adorable. But he has a plan set and he will see it through. “Let me ride you.” His voice is fucked, a mere croak from the abuse it’s gotten tonight.

The words seem to lag in Taehyung’s head, but once it all catches up with him, he groans, falling forward to capture Jimin’s lips in a frantic kiss that only uses tongue. He pulls away after a minute, flopping next to Jimin and grabbing at his waist. “Yeah, ride me, baby.”

Jimin musters whatever strength he has left to crawl into the other’s lap, not wasting a minute before he’s sliding down on the other’s cock. He sits there, barely moving his hips as he revels in how deep Taehyung is inside of him. He’s going to feel this, for sure.

Taehyung’s hands on Jimin’s waist urge him to move, and Jimin allows it, covering the other’s hands with his own as he uses the muscles in his thighs to bounce up and down on Taehyung.

Taehyung’s orgasm creeps on him, allowing him to enjoy the feel of satin walls massaging his hard member, sucking him in and gripping him tight. But when he feels it, it practically hits him like a freight train, and suddenly he’s thrusting up into Jimin’s heat just as the other sinks down, slamming into his prostate head on.

“Fuck, Tae!” cries out Jimin as he falls forward, thighs trembling while Taehyung continues to pistol into his hole. He thighs clamp around the other’s waist, forcing him higher and higher until Taehyung yanks him down by his hips, keeping him still. “Shit, shitshitshit- right there Tae, fu-”

Taehyung groans, enjoying the view of Jimin falling apart above him. “That’s it, baby. Fucking take it like a good boy.” The keen Jimin responds with is music to his ringing ears. He needs to cum, but he won’t until Jimin finishes first. “Gonna cum for me, baby?”

That seems to sober Jimin up just a bit, enough for him to open his eyes, pupils blown and staring Taehyung down.

“Say his name.”

Taehyung’s brain racks for understanding, still too caught up in ecstasy to understand the command. “What?” he pants. His head falls back into the covers when Jimin clenches around him so deliciously tight. He can feel it, his climax just standing there at the edge. “Who?”

Jimin rolls his hips languidly, reveling in how Taehyung’s pace stutters. “Say his name for me, baby.”

With a growl, Taehyung heaves himself up, wrapping an arm around the other’s waist to keep him seated, keep himself buried balls deep. Jimin’s jaw drops in a silent cry, walls tightening around the other like a vice grip.

“Fuck, Jimin,” Taehyung moans, voice reaching some deeper octave that vibrates through the other’s bones, makes him feel it in every inch of his being. “Cum for me, baby. I know you can.”

Jimin can feel it all over, the way Taehyung’s cock sits so perfectly inside him that his body screams for release; his toes curl just as his fingers grip at the other’s shoulders, some last effort to hold on for dear life as the euphoria drips from his pores, surges through his veins and leaves him locked tight. Cum spurts from his untouched cock, not like he can see it with where his face is buried in the other’s neck to muffle the litany of high pitched sobs and tears that threaten to leak from his eyes.

Taehyung can’t swallow back the hearty groan that rips from his chest, his dick suffocated in the burning walls that contract so exquisitely around him. He tries to focus on holding onto Jimin as he shakes violently, keeping him close while he comes down from his high.

“We’re not done,” he reminds the other, feeling the way he licks at the salt on his neck. Jimin pulls back to see his face, cheeks and neck flushed in a deep red, hair matted to his head and eyes wet. Cute, Taehyung thinks, holding onto Jimin’s waist as he rolls them over, keeping himself buried inside the other.

Jimin is weak, but he still grips Taehyung’s biceps as the other fucks him almost furiously, chasing his own orgasm and rubbing at his sensitive nub. The tears from before trail down, mixing in with the sweat on his face as he arches, unsure of whether he wants to get away or pull Taehyung closer.

“Shit,” he hears the other curse, bending down to encompass Jimin completely as his thrusts get sporadic. “Chim…baby -fuck- you feel so good.” He licks messily at the sweat on his neck before he bites down, eliciting a weak moan from the other.

Jimin turns his head, giving the other room to mark him like he knows Taehyung loves to do. For the time before, Jimin is okay with the one-sidedness. One day, he’s sure it won’t matter who marks who. Again, his eyes meet the camera, and he’s sure his grin does not seem all too innocent, all too playful.

“Taehyung,” he sighs, still looking at the camera. “Cum for me, baby.”

And, of course, Jimin is in charge tonight, right? It’s almost instant how Taehyung pushes forward, burying himself to the hilt as he feels his orgasm flow through him, muscles strained and shaking with every blow. And Jimin milks him beautifully.

Neither are sure how long they stay like that, both more than happy to stay connected like this. But there is a very present feeling of cool cum drying on their chests, and Taehyung pulls away, pulling out and flopping onto his back next to Jimin.

They lay there quietly, only a second or two passing before Jimin giggles lightly. “I won.”

Still letting his blood flow at a normal speed, Taehyung slowly turns to face Jimin. “Didn’t realize we were playing a game.”

Jimin giggles again. Taehyung doesn’t understand. It’s almost precious. “Can you turn the camera off for me? I don’t think I can move.”

Though Taehyung clicks his tongue, he still sits up. Jimin must still be in charge.

“And carry me to the shower!” he adds, plastering on a sickly sweet smile.

“Tch, why are we showering?” asks a very confused Taehyung. When Jimin mirrors back the same expression, Taehyung smiles sneakily. “Baby,” he drawls, tone deep and primal. “Did you think we were done? Put that hoodie back on and follow me.”

Now Jimin is the one to obey, sitting up and watching as Taehyung turns off the camera, staring through the lens as the red light goes off.

Jeongguk wakes with a start on Saturday morning, feeling well-rested after passing out at 11pm; quite the feat for a college student. Plus, the sun is shining through his window and really, who can ignore an obnoxious shining sun?

Speaking of shining suns…

Jeongguk feels at his nightstand, grabbing at his phone and rolling over to his side. He’s sure his boyfriend isn’t awake yet, always taking the opportunities to sleep in late. He still decides to leave a morning message, asking him when he’s coming over so he can figure out how much time he has until he’s bombarded with his crazy love.

The day is lazy, much to Jeongguk’s fortune. He parks himself on the couch after fixing a bowl of cereal, feeling his bones mold comfortably with the fabric and he knows he won’t have the energy to get up and put his bowl in the sink (that is what boyfriends are for).

And soon his laptop is pulled onto his legs, the white noise of the television filling in the empty air as he mindlessly goes through social media. He almost misses the Instant Message that pops up on his screen, saying it's from a number he didn’t even remember he still had: Park Jimin

Jeongguk contemplates leaving it unread, but it doesn’t seem to be one he can get away with reading whatever comes up in the notification because it’s a video.

Their friendship hadn’t lasted all that long, Jeongguk befriending the elder male in his first level hip hop class when he was just a freshman. He’d seemed nice enough, tolerant, eager to help him whenever he needed help. The thing was that Jimin was already pretty much classically trained, having gone to performing arts schools and studying modern dance for most of his life. He’d just signed up for the class to get a taste of the “other side” as Jimin had put it.

But not a month later, Jimin had set up a time to hang out with both Jeongguk and Jimin’s stunning friend from his calc class. Kim Taehyung was something out of a high fashion magazine, effortlessly beautiful and unique. Jeongguk had hoped he hadn’t seemed so smitten after just one meeting, but Taehyung will admit that he could tell the moment they had parted ways.

And Jeongguk remembers when he told Jimin that he and Taehyung were going on a date another month after that, the way Jimin tripped over his own feet and sputtered like a fish out of water. Jeongguk would have been lying if he didn’t mention that he noticed the way Jimin spoke of Taehyung, how Jeongguk noticed the way he’d bodily throw himself into the taller man’s arms when he laughed or how he’d always find a reason to whisper in his ear. Jeongguk may have been young, but he was not so oblivious. Jimin had a thing for Taehyung, and if the night went right (which, obviously, it did), Jeongguk would be the one holding Taehyung’s hand and hiding his hickies (or not trying at all) from the public eye.

That is where the friendship of Jeon Jeongguk and Park Jimin ended.

So, he’s quite surprised when he sees the bubble appear with Jimin’s admittedly handsome face.

Ignoring his better judgement, Jeongguk clicks open the chat, noting how it says they haven’t spoken in over one and a half years. The thumbnail of the video is pretty hard to decipher, but he thinks it’s Jimin, laying on his bed. He presses play.

The video starts out simply, Jimin walking back and forth in front of the camera before sitting heavily at the foot of his bed, then fall back with his arms splayed out.

“Jeonggukie, I’ve been hooking up with this guy...he’s the best I ever had.” His voice sounds airy, happy, and Jeongguk is left only slightly confused. Yes, that would explain the times Jimin has came to class with bruises all over his neck (and sometimes on his thighs, if he hiked his shorts up high enough). But why would Jeongguk care?

Jeongguk hears him moan, “So good…” and really, Jeongguk is about to pause it and just message Jimin when he sees the subject sit up, a tight grin on his face. “I can’t wait for you to meet him.”

Jeongguk almost expects Hoseok, one of their TA’s, because they had both speculated the older man’s sexuality, and maybe Jimin was trying to find a way to make up with the younger...funny way of doing it, but who is Jeongguk to judge?

Intrigued, Jeongguk continues watching as there’s the faintest knock at Jimin’s door. He’s gone for about half a minute or so, the time stamp reads out. And when he comes back in, Jeongguk’s heart drops to his stomach, probably trying to drag himself to hell. It’s not Jung Hoseok.

But his boyfriend.

Kim Fucking Taehyung.

No. No this can’t be real. Jeongguk wants to stop watching, doesn’t want to see it all unfold, but it’s like a trainwreck that he can’t take his eyes off of.

It’s when Taehyung has Jimin pinned to the bed that Jeongguk’s vision goes blurry, and he’s almost thankful for the tears the obstruct his vision because his boyfriend, his love, his Taehyung...has been lying to him.

His eyes are glued to the scene, so he doesn’t notice when Taehyung sends him a message that he’s heading up to his apartment. He doesn’t notice until the front door opens, and he finally tears his eyes away from the monstrosity in front of him to see the perpetrator, standing there with the same black hoodie Jimin had started the video wearing, holding a plastic bag of almond cookies.

The room is silent, safe for the video that plays.

“I won.”

A/N: Whew boy. I would say I’m sorry but a very tiny part of me feels bad. Actually some pretty good discussions happened in the comments of the AO3 posting. Any feedback is always welcomed ^-^

#bts #bts smut #taekook #vmin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #park jimin #bts scenarios #bangtan

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iswearonmarcuskane · 7 years

Text

Kickin’ & Screamin’ // Chapter 11

Title: Kickin’ & Screamin’ Fandom: The 100 Pairing: Kabby Tag/Warnings: Modern AU Setting, Kicking and Screaming AU, Kid!Delinquents Chapter(s): 11/22 Read earlier chapters on: AO3

Chapter Summary: does this title have a double meaning??????

Chapter 11: Winning isn’t everything, but it feels good

It seemed like Abby was finally getting that shot she deserved. It wasn’t for the original reason she wanted it, but hell, she would take it. It was for a better reason now.

All the parents stood at the long picnic table on Marcus’ porch in his backyard, a short shot glass in front of each of them.

Marcus lifted his and said, “To the Delinquents first win!”

Abby lifted hers, standing beside him, and followed up with, “And for the many more to come!”

The rest of the adults cheered, lifting their own shot glasses and clinked them together with their neighbor. Abby turned to Marcus who looked to her as well. “To the best coaches,” Abby stated, raising hers to his.

He clinked his with hers, his signature smirk resting on his lips. “To the best coaches,” he agreed. They both downed the shot, wincing the slightest at the bitter taste.

“Never gets easier,” Abby said as she immediately drank from her cup of sprite. Abby would be lying if she said that was the first shot she had that night. It was a good thing Indra had driven her and Clarke here.

“Nope,” Marcus agreed as he began to chug down his own pop.

“I think I should retire the vodka,” she added as an afterthought. It was never nice to her in college, God knows why she would think now would be any different. If she wasn’t careful, she would end up in the bathtub wearing a bunch of Christmas lights, screaming “IT’S LIT!” before passing out.

And no, Abby isn’t speaking from experience. She swears it was a dream.

“I have some wine inside,” Marcus suggested.

This spiked some curiosity in her. She never saw Marcus as a wine person. With knowing him the past five years, she saw him saw him as the typical ‘crack a cold beer open and scream at the TV while watching college football’ type of guy.

Marcus Kane just continued to surprise her.

“Sounds nice,” she told him, imagining drinking it by the campfire.

He smiled and went inside to fetch the bottle and two glasses. She looked to the small campfire Marcus had started for the kids. They all sat around it, making s’mores and drinking pop. Clarke was sitting alone at the moment, trying to get her marshmallow off the stick and into her crackers.

Abby made her way down to the small campfire pit and took the crackers from her daughter. Clarke looked up to her and smiled as Abby finished making the s’more for her. She started to hand it to her daughter, but swiped it away at the last minute.

Abby winked and took a bite of it and then handed it over to the grumpy girl. Hey, Abby doesn’t work for free!

Soon, Octavia and Raven came over to her with their own s’mores, sitting by her. Lexa was in front of them, cooking her own marshmallow as Clarke got her crackers and chocolate ready.

Abby found an open bench and sat down on it. The air outside was starting to get nippy, the temperature dropping with the night settling in. She was in a regular t-shirt from one of Clarke’s school plays and her hair was in a ponytail, due to it being slightly damp from her winning ice bath earlier.

She saw the others from the team all huddled around Bellamy, watching him do something. She leaned a bit to the side to see what he was doing. She strained to hear him say, “I will draw a picture and you try to repeat it correctly. I will let you know if you do.”

Everyone seemed intrigued and told him to get on with it. He lifted his left hand and drew a circle while saying, “There was a man on the moon,” he added two dots for eyes, one for a nose, and draw a smile, “with two eyes, a nose, and a mouth.”

They all waited for more to happen but Bellamy lowered his arm. Murphy asked, “That’s it?”

Bellamy nodded and Murphy snorted. “That’s easy. I got this.” He proceeded to lift his right hand and repeat exactly what Bellamy did, word for word and piece for piece in the drawing.

Bellamy smirked as Murphy finished and told him, “Wrong.”

“Wrong?” Murphy sounded offended. “What do you mean wrong?”

“It’s wrong.” Bellamy didn’t sound bothered.

“I did exactly what you did!” Abby and the others agreed but now Abby was curious. Did Murphy not dot the left eye first? Did he draw the smile the wrong way? Or did he say something wrong?

“Nope,” Bellamy said as he rubbed his hands together. He looked around the tiny group and said, “Watch me closely.”

He lifted his left hand again and proceeded to repeat the exact same thing he had shown them before. It was the exact same Murphy had done as well.

“That’s what I did!” Murphy complained.

Bellamy shook his head and looked around the group, asking, “Anyone else wanna try?”

Wells lifted his right hand and did it slowly, watching Bellamy the whole time. He had repeated Bellamy to the T, but Bellamy still shook his head and told him, “Wrong.”

Abby heard a snort of laughter and all the heads turned to look at Murphy. Raven’s voice boomed from the other bench, “I don’t know what you’re laughing at Murphy, since you failed as well.”

Octavia and Clarke burst into giggles beside her as the group turned to look at them. Murphy snorted again, telling her, “I’d like to see you try, Reyes.”

“Fine,” she replied and Bellamy focused his attention on her. She lifted her right hand and repeated what Bellamy had done. She crossed her arms, smirking and told them, “Done.”

The group looked to Bellamy for confirmation and he crossed his arms. He smirked to Raven. “Wrong.”

“What?!”

Abby heard Murphy laugh in response as well as Raven go off into a tangent about how Bellamy was wrong and not her. She wasn’t sure if the few shots she had were distorting her vision yet or not but she was pretty sure everyone had copied Bellamy exactly. Maybe he was just being an ass. Like father, like son, right?

The wind blew a short gust of wind, making the hair on her arms stand up. Goosebumps exploded across her body as she suddenly wrapped her arms around her body. She could really use that wine right now, it would warm her up instantly.

Suddenly, a heavy leather jacket landed on her shoulders. It cut off the cold instantly and she was surrounded by warmth and the slight smell of forest. She grabbed each side and pulled it tighter to her as her head turned around to see Marcus sitting by her.

He set the two glasses between them and opened the wine bottle. He looked to her smiling as he poured the glasses. He nodded towards where Raven was arguing with Bellamy over the little game. “I taught him that.”

“You did? I thought I noticed something familiar while he was performing it.”

He raised an eyebrow at her as he topped off the glasses. He asked, “And what is that?”

He set the bottle on the ground and handed her one. She smiled her thanks as she took a long sip of it. It tasted heavenly and added to the warmth spreading throughout her body. She made eye contact with him after and said, “Being an ass.”

He laughed and shook his head as he took his own sip from his glass. He smacked his lips after his drink and asked, “Good?”

She nodded and took another sip of it. She added as an afterthought, “Thanks for the jacket.”

“Didn’t want you to freeze,” he waved it off, “but I think your heart is past saving.”

An eyebrow shot up at that. She asked, “Are you calling me coldhearted?”

He smirked that smirk as he went to take another sip of his drink. “You said it, not me.”

She reached out and hit his arm, making him laugh while drinking. A little splashed around his glass and landed on his chin. Absentmindedly, and blaming the vodka and wine, she reached out and wiped it off his beard.

No, it wasn’t an excuse to touch his beard. Really, that’s what Abby was trying to convince herself of. She was failing.

He watched her intently as her hand fell from his face. She proceeded to wipe her hand on his arm, telling him, “You’re a mess.”

He shrugged and took another drink slowly as he watched her. She felt herself become warmer under his gaze. She wasn’t sure what made her the warmest: the jacket, the wine, or him.

To distract herself as her mind began to spin, she nodded towards the group of kids still surrounding Bellamy. She asked, “So, how is everyone doing it wrong when they repeat exactly what he’s doing?”

“Are they?” He questioned.

His tone made her unsure and she frowned. She examined the group again, watching as Bellamy shook his head as Raven tried again. She had repeated him move for move. She didn’t know what she was doing wrong.

“Watch me,” Marcus told her as he dragged her attention to him.

He lifted his left hand and drew a circle as he made eye contact with her. “There was a man on the moon,” he began and proceeded to draw two dots for eyes, one dot for a nose, and a line for a smile, “with two eyes, a nose, and a mouth.”

Abby was intensely watching it. It was what exactly Bellamy had done, and the others for that matter. Why was theirs correct and not the others? What were they doing wrong? Abby took a long drink of her wine before saying, “Okay, I got it.”

She lifted her right hand and drew a circle, repeating his words. She drew the eyes, the nose, and the mouth. She set her hand down back in her lap as she looked to him for confirmation.

His smirk returned and Abby already knew the answer before he told her. “Wrong.”

To say she was pissed was an understatement. She did exactly what he did. She made sure she was paying close attention.

She watched as he took a long drink of his wine, finishing it off. He went to poor himself another glass as she drummed her fingers along the rim of her glass. What was she doing wrong?

“Do it again,” she demanded.

He had just set the bottle down and his smirk grew a bit. “Your wish is my command,” he replied as he lifted his left hand and repeated the same thing.

She was watching his hand move, gripping her wine glass tightly in her hand. Her right hand was tracing his movement and she repeated the words after him. When he finished, she finished as well.

She raised an eyebrow in question. He watched her for a moment while he took another drink. “Nope,” he informed her after.

“Bullshit!”

He chuckled slightly as he watched her. “Is that you what you think?” He asked.

“I think you’re being an asshole,” she retorted, finishing her wine off in frustration. She handed him her empty glass and he took it to refill it.

She had copied him, right in front of him! There was no way she was wrong! He was being himself and it shouldn’t have surprised her, but it did annoy her.

He topped off her glass asking, “Were you copying me fully?”

“Yes!”

He smiled as he set the wine bottle down. He picked her glass up and handed it over to her but didn’t let go when her left hand wrapped around his slightly to grab it.

The little spark that ignited at their touch did more to warm her than the real fire beside them. It immediately spread up her arm and throughout her body.

Slowly and barely, he used his pointer finger to stroke her hand. Almost immediately the fire intensified. It was like gasoline met the fire, burning up fast.

She lifted her eyes to his and her breath hitched the slightest as she caught his gaze. The brown in them were swimming in the glare of the fire, looking like melted chocolate. She felt herself getting lost in them.

“Everything?” He suddenly asked.

“Hm?” She was too focused on the finger stroking her hand and the warmth the heat in his eyes were bringing her. She didn’t want it to end; she wanted more.

“Did you copy everything I did?” He explained.

Her mind wasn’t on the game anymore. To be completely honest, her mind was on more interesting things. Like the way she loved the way his hand tightened around hers slightly after he spoke. She didn’t want to talk about the game anymore.

“Mhmmm,” she answered. She didn’t trust her words, her brain a mush between the alcohol, his fingers, and his eyes.

“I don’t think so,” he said as the finger that was stroking her hand, tapped against her hand.

She reluctantly broke eye contact with him to look down to their hands. His hand was holding her left hand. In her mind, him doing the image replayed slowly.

He continued to tap her hand until the lightbulb went off. Her mouth dropped open. He was doing it with his left hand while she had done it with right hand. She wasn’t sure if she was more upset with him or herself.

She made eye contact with him again as he was taking another sip of his wine. “That’s ridiculous!”

He chuckled as he finally let her hand go. Instantly, her hand was cold and she missed his touch. “Finally got it, huh?”

“I don’t know whether I’m madder at you for that stupid detail or at myself for not realizing it,” she grumbled into her drink and took a long drink of it.

He laughed more as he sat back a bit, facing the fire now. He told her, “You should’ve seen Bellamy’s reaction when he first learned it. Didn’t talk to me for the rest of the day.”

“You have that effect on people,” she commented.

He smirked as he took another drink. She watched him, mind getting off track easily. She watched as his swallowed the wine. She watched him lick his lips afterwards. She watched as he ran a hand through his beard to scratch it.

“So,” he said, “how does it feel to finally be a winner?”

Her eyes had wandered to his hair by now. It was dry by now from the game aftermath and looked soft as ever. Her mind went to when she had ran her hand through it.

“Just as good as your hair felt.”

Silence fell between them as Abby took another drink from her wine. She could feel it spreading throughout her body. She had better slow down before she did or said something she regretted.

She looked over to Marcus, wondering why it fell quiet and froze. He was staring at her intently, more so than he was before. His eyes were unreadable.

Wait a minute. Abby retraced their conversation. Her eyes widened and she felt herself pale.

Shit. Had she really said that out loud? Well, too late on not saying anything she would regret.

She cleared her throat, thankful the fire was already giving a glow to her cheeks to hide the heat rushing to them now. She took one last long drink from her wine before telling him, “I need to use the bathroom.”

He didn’t say anything as she set the glass down and held the jacket tighter to her. His eyes followed every move she made, making her self-conscious. She needed to leave the vicinity immediately before she did something else she would regret.

She hurried off away from the campfire and up to the porch. From there, she entered the house. Marcus stayed seated as he watched her leave.

His hand was still tingling from their contact earlier. His body was warm from it as well. His heart was racing slightly as her words kept ringing in his mind.

He knew he shouldn’t follow her but his brain was a bit mushy and all he could think about was her. Whether it was her teasing him, her wiping the wine from his chin, her in his leather jacket, or her hands in his hair, it was all her.

Mind made up, he stood, abandoning the wine bottle and wine glasses. His mind was focused on one thing, one person. He started after her.

Raven, Octavia, and Clarke watched as Marcus moved with determination towards the house. Raven crossed her arms over her chest and commented, “Oh, your dad is so about to make a move.”

Octavia was grinning and high-fived Clarke. She told Raven, “I hope you like doing algebra and history!”

Abby stood in the hallway where his bathroom was.

She just needed space. She needed to breathe. She needed to be alone. If she was left alone, she could get her brain back on track and not make any more mistakes tonight.

Those hopes were shattered when she heard the glass sliding door from the kitchen open. “Abby?” His familiar voice called out.

Great.

Immediately, she ran into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her. Good job, Abby. Way to make it obvious.

She stayed silent though, heart pounding in her chest. She could hear his footsteps getting closer to the bathroom. They didn’t sound hesitant, making her heart race more.

Soon, the footsteps died outside the bathroom door. A soft knock was heard, followed by his voice asking again, “Abby?”

Him just saying her name sent the heat coursing through her again. She was too hot now. She still wore the leather jacket though. It felt like a shield.

After a shaky breath, she answered, “I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Alright,” was his only response.

She waited to hear retreating footsteps, something indicating he was giving her space. They were faint but she heard footsteps move away from the door.

She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She leaned on the countertop for support, looking in the mirror at her reflection. Her cheeks were flushed with warmth and her eyes slightly dilated.

She took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. She stretched out her fingers a couple times. She titled her head to both sides, cracking her neck slightly. She closed her eyes for a minute. Her mind was starting to calm down from panic mode.

When she opened her eyes, they fell on a razor sitting on the countertop. She reached out and grabbed it. Immediately, the image of her wiping the wine off his chin flashed in her mind.

She dropped the razor back on the countertop, her mind beginning to race again, heart following in suit.

She reached up and slowly rubbed her temples. She was fine. Whatever this tension was between them, it was normal. She blamed it on the wine mainly.

Taking another deep breath, she turned the sink on. She splashed cold water on her face. It burned against her hot skin.

She turned the sink off and slightly dabbed her face dry with a towel. The distinct smell of him entered her senses and it sent her heart racing again. She was fine.

She looked to the door knob as she hung the towel back up. He would be waiting outside for her and whatever else was awaiting her. The thought made her nervous but excited at the same time.

Slowly, she reached out and grabbed the door knob. She twisted it, feeling her heartbeat go faster every second that passed. She was fine.

She proceeded to open the door and step outside. It felt like she was stepping out into no man’s land in a war. She didn’t know where to tread, afraid one wrong step would set off a landmine. She was fine.

Her eyes were trained to the floor and the first thing they found of him was his boots. One was on the floor, the other propping him up against the wall. Her eyes traveled upwards past his jeans, his shirt, until she came up to see his face.

He was stroking his beard, nerves wrecking his own core. The light of the bathroom flooding the hallway caught his attention and he looked up to see her. Her in his jacket, her with her cheeks flushed, her biting her lip as she traveled her eyes up to meet his.

The two stared at each other in silence. Both felt the tension, both knew it. The only question that remained was who was going to do what about it?

Marcus broke the silence by asking, “We didn’t run out of toilet paper, did we?”

Abby’s lip twitched, a small smile forming. “No,” she told him, humor lacing her voice the slightest. He smiled a bit back.

Silence fell between them again. Marcus reached up and scratched the back of his neck, nerves spreading throughout his body. He felt her eyes watching the movement, burning into him.

“Are you alright?” He asked, deciding to get to the point.

Abby was silent for a while as she watched him. His eyes were as nervous as hers. He didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands as they kept scratching at the back of his neck or beard. Her mind wandered to the image of his hands running across other body parts- body parts of hers.

She took a step forward, towards him. His eyes instantly caught the movement and latched onto hers. The look in his eyes made her heart race more. There was a storm brewing in them, telling her she was the only way to calm it down.

Another step.

Was she fine? She kept telling herself she was, but was that the truth? Her mind kept repeating the phrase but she couldn’t feel it. All she could feel was the heat he was bringing her.

Another step.

The jacket fell off her shoulders and slowly slid to the ground. She watched his eyes slowly follow it but they immediately came back to hers. The storm got more violent, eyes focusing solely on her.

Another step and now she was right in front of him.

She could hear his breathing turn erratic, see his eyes flicker down to her lips as he licked his own, and see his fingers twitch towards her. It sent her mind into another whirlwind.

Was she fine? No, not in the slightest bit. Not until he made her fine.

She wasn’t sure who moved first but all that mattered was that they moved. He bent down and she got up on her toes. Her hands reached up to grab his collar and his hand came up to cradle her head. They met halfway, either her lips touching his first or his touching hers first. Neither cared about that. They just cared that their lips were finally on each other’s.

It wasn’t like a first kiss was supposed to be- hesitant and testing the waters. It was passionate, each of them pouring the past five years of each other into it. It was fast, it was hot, and it was everything.

Abby could taste the wine on his lips. She would be lying if she said it didn’t taste better off them than it did from the bottle. It tasted unique, it tasted like him. She couldn’t get enough.

It didn’t take long for either of them to deepen the kiss, earning a sound of approval from Marcus when her hand found its way into his hair. Her fingers got lost in the soft strands, curling her hand into them and slightly tugging at the end. The strangled noise that escaped Marcus’ throat in response sent flames through her core.

Her back hit the wall as Marcus backed her up. His hand had found her ponytail and he ripped it out, letting her hair fall down. Immediately, he buried his hand into the golden brown strands, his other hand skimming down her back. The action caused her to arch the slightest into him, causing friction between the two. Both let out a sound of reaction, causing the kiss to get more frantic.

Her hand found its way through his hair, making a mess of it. Marcus didn’t care. His focus was on her and her lips against his. His mind was focused solely on her and how good she felt in his hands.

Soon, her hand left his hair and found her next target. It softly landed on his cheek, fingers immediately running through his beard. Her mind blanked the slightest at the feeling under hand, then it wandered to other possibilities of where his beard may touch next.

Without warning, he broke off the kiss, peppering her jawline with tiny kisses. Abby was out of breath and invited them, her free hand not in his beard going back in the mess of his hair, gripping the strands tightly.

He made his way down her jawline, using his hand in her hair to open her neck to him. He trailed wet kisses down her throat, breathing heavily himself. She tugged at his hair in response, earning another strangled groan from him.

He traveled his lips back up her neck to the soft spot below her ear. He put a lingering kiss there, earning a rough groan of his name. He smirked as he made his way back to her lips, giving her another earth shattering kiss.

Her hand continued to stroke his beard, loving the feeling of it under her hand. His own hands were on her body now, roaming as he pulled her against him. He broke from the kiss for a moment as he trailed more kisses along her jawline.

“I thought you hated the beard?”

The question caught her off guard a bit. Her mind was in a haze of bliss, it didn’t want to think, it just wanted to do. She panted a bit to catch her breath and told him as she stroked it, “I lied.”

“I know,” he answered a bit too cocky.

“What do you mean you know?”

Her mind was focused on his lips at her collarbone and his hand making its way under her shirt. He made his way back up to her eye level and told her, “I saw you steal my razor that night.”

Maybe she wasn’t as slick as she thought she was. Oh well, it worked didn’t it? He wasn’t shaving.

“I was doing you a favor,” she replied, eyes focused on his lips. Why were they talking? They could talk later. All she wanted to do was kiss him.

“If this is the favor,” he stated as his hand skimmed her back, his hand sending shivers up her spine and to her toes, “then you should’ve stolen it years ago.”

Her back arched the slightest at his touch, crushing her against his body which were already mashed together. The friction caused both to bite their lips and she heard Marcus’ breathing pick up.

“Patience is a virtue,” she told him, hand tracing his jawline, eyes still focused on his lips.

He chuckled and it sent her mind into another frenzy. His hand on her back kept her close as he bent down and whispered into her ear with a rough voice, “I don’t plan on being patient with you tonight.”

The words sent a chill throughout at the same time as heat found its way leaking from her core to her entire body. The words excited her. Her other hand, in his hair, tightened and held him in place by her ear. She turned her head, lips by his ear and she whispered, “Then what are you waiting for?”

The words ignited a challenge in him, hand tightening on her back. He pulled back from her ear and looked into her eyes. He saw the challenge in them, no regrets or hesitation. His other hand came from her hip and held her chin.

Both of their hearts were racing. Whatever this tension was, it was taking over them. After tonight, there would be no turning a cold shoulder to it. They would’ve broke through the wall, seeing the other on the other side. None of that mattered in the moment. It would be dealt with after.

He began to lower his head to hers, her eyes closing in anticipation. A cough from beside them made them freeze.

Abby wasn’t sure what made her face red: the heat from their moment or the embarrassment she was now feeling. She was so lost in the moment she forgot they were out in the open hallway. She didn’t want to look over and see who had caught them.

Marcus looked over though to see Indra standing at the opening into the kitchen from the hallway. She had her arms crossed over her chest and raised an eyebrow at him when he made eye contact with her. She told them, “The fire was going out so some of the kids asked for me to get you to put more wood in it. Seems like you’re a little busy at the moment though.”

Abby’s face flushed more and she hit her head against Marcus’ chest, hiding her face in it. His hand that was still on her back began to rub comforting circles into it. “I’ll be out there in a minute,” he told Indra, his voice still rough on the edges.

“Mhmm, sure,” she replied, “take your time. But, if Murphy starts playing with the fire, you have only yourself to blame.”

Indra left them on that note and neither of them moved. Soon, they heard the glass sliding door open and close, indicating she was outside again.

They didn’t look at each other right away, the events of a few minutes ago rushing back into their mind. Stolen kisses, faint touches, and whispered words. What had they done?

He finally looked down to her, an emotion swarming in his eyes that made her heart jump. He told her, “As much as I want to continue whatever just happened, I don’t think anyone outside would be able to handle Murphy with fire.”

She laughed and smiled up to him. “Understandable,” she agreed.

“But before I go…” he mumbled as his hand that had been on her chin came to cradle her head as he buried his fingers in her hair. He brought her up to his lips, stealing a long, slow kiss. She didn’t argue, she answered the same.

When he pulled back, Abby’s heart was fluttering. She was in awe as she stared up to him. The kiss wasn’t passionate like the one the shared moments ago. It was lingering on her lips and seeping its way into her bloodstream and aiming for her heart.

“I’d hate to interrupt,” another voice said, spooking them, “but if I don’t use the bathroom right now, I’m sure Coach Marcus won’t be happy about cleaning up my accident on his kitchen floor.”

Both heads swiveled to see Raven standing in the hallway, grinning mischievously at the two. Immediately, the two separated from each other. It was too late though, Raven had seen the kiss.

Marcus coughed and nodded towards the bathroom, telling her, “We’re done here.”

“Are you really?” She teased the two as she walked by. She winked at the two before entering the bathroom, adding, “Keep it PG, will ya?”

And with that, Raven shut the door, leaving the two adults standing there in embarrassment and astonishment.

#kabby #kabby fanfic #abby griffin #marcus kane #the 100 #the 100 fanfic #lindsayisthecraic

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Why should Power8 focus on shedding jobs to save on cost Are there no alternative strategies

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Human Resource Management

Attempt Any Four Case Study

CASE 1: It is Good News Everywhere for Coca Cola

After fumbling in India for over a decade and losing the top slot to Pepsi, the humbled cola giant is dreaming big again and rejigging its strategy with a fresh and sharper focus.

Why did Cola giant fumble in the first place? Here are some mistakes and learnings that Coca Cola has undergone in the past:

Globalization Holds the Key

Coca Cola was among the bluest of blue MNCs to have entered India in the 1990s. It was and still remains among the top five most powerful brands and the largest beverage company in the world. A lot of that MNC arrogance had a rub-off effect in the way it laid out its India strategy. Snapping up the locally popular brands like Thums Up, Limca, Maaza to competition, its brand-building exercise for the mother-brand was often at the cost of the local ones. It was costly and often didn’t work. Thumps Up remains a very strong brand in southern states like Andhra Pradesh and in fact in the Brand Equity Most Trusted Brands listing, it ranks 34—much higher than Coca Cola’s 42nd ranking. As the company redraws its India plans it promises to be far more rooted to the realities like having more local insights, promoting local drinks like Aam Panna and localised variants like Sprite—Jal Jeera.

Delegate, Empower and Be Patient

Five CEOs in a decade, a high employee turnover of 30%, Coca Cola India was in a chaos as constant churn at the top took its toll. “Every time a new CEO took over, he drew out a new strategy and a fresh game plan to win the market”, recalls a Delhi-based ex-employee. Lack of confidence and patience from the headquarters only made matters worse. “The short-term approach to show quick results was talking its toll,” recalls a Bangalore-based ex-employee who was involved in operations.

Worse, with $1 billion of investments and having written off $450 million assets in 2000, penny conscious Coca Cola headquarters began micromanaging issues like hikes. Recalls a senior HR executive who worked in the eastern region: “No hikes above 10% at any level—we got the message from the US headquarter.” Everything was in a flux—not just in people leaving, in roles too changing frequently. There wasn’t much flexibility that the HR department had in managing people.

Slowly, Mr. Singh (CEO, Coca Cola, India) and his team are helping win back the staff confidence here and getting some freedom from the Atlanta headquarters. “When I came, there were complains of low salaries. We undertook a transparent benchmarking study to fix that,” he says. Multiple channels of dialogues have been opened up. Every month now, there is an open house meeting where all employees at the headquarters can air their concerns and issues. “We are trying to bring down the decision-making process,” says Mr. Singh.

Soften that MNC Arrogance

Being the world’s most powerful brand had its flipside. Every time there was a problem, the company pointed a finger elsewhere. “We were in denial mode,” says a senior company executive. “Earlier, we spent more time defending ourselves,” says a candid Mr. Singh. Despite aggressive efforts it realised that in a sensitive business of food and drinks, scientific data matter, but perceptions matter more. “No matter what you did, it (pesticide issue) was a losing proposition,” says a senior ad industry executive. “You could only side-step it to minimise the damage,” he adds. The company too seems to have figured that out. “Let’s focus on solutions instead of debating if we are part of the issue or not,” says Singh. Coca Cola is trying to move beyond the blame game and has learnt to be more constructive.

Engage Beyond Business

For both Pepsi and Coca Cola the world was small and their attention very focused on each other. Just then CSE, an NGO, expanded and complicated their business playfield in India. Suddenly their MNC tag became a noose as the cola glitz and glamour gave way to pesticide, pollution, groundwater depletion controversies. Having learnt lessons the hard way, Coca Cola is now opening up channels of dialogue and engagement with the community it is operating in. it is setting up a Coca Cola Foundation that will engage in a variety of developmental work. To help create employable talent, it is setting up Coca Cola Retail University that will train sales staff. It organises rural games with a consortium of Indian farmers in the South. Water conservation and recycling have become its pet projects even as it aspires to become a net zero water user by 2009 in India. “We want to build a sustainable business model in India,” says Singh.

Perhaps, the highs of the past may never return. India and Indians’ fascination for the West and MNC brands like Coca Cola today may have more earthy—rather than heady—appeal. Of course, the brand itself has come down from its pedestal. “Coca Cola was an insignificant product delivered spectacularly,” says an ad industry veteran. The celebrity endorsements, ad campaigns and their cricket-connect made them glitzy and desirable. “Soon, they came to be seen as frivolous without being pleasurable,” he adds, just when “cooler” brands like Google and Nokia overtook it. From such lows, a company can only go up. Coca Cola India is already beginning to. Hopefully, Atlanta’s confidence in India's growth story will be strong and long-term. And that the global beverage leader – after a slew of bad publicity and poor business track record—has gained a humble confidence to chalk up a successful business in India. For a company with a such a difficult past in India, this may yet be early days.

But the management is upbeat. Neville Isdell, chairman and CEO of Coca Cola, said its India arm registered a double-digit growth in the first quarter this year after a series of negative growth. Earlier in Atlanta it announced that India will be the No.3 market for the company. The company will invest close to $250 million in the next three years—and this is just the beginning. Today things are working for the company. For the CEO, it is good news everywhere.

This could well be the third awakening in India for the world’s largest beverage company. (Forced out of India in the 1970s, Coca Cola re-entered in 1993 sinking $1 billion in over a decade. It began losing its fizz since 2003 when pesticide allegations first surfaced). But finally, after negative sales growth on the back of public backlash, surging attrition (around 30%) and internal chaos, the company seems to be steadying its feet in the Indian market.

Question:

As HR manager, what role do you carve for yourself in making Coca Cola a number one cola company in India?

CASE 2: Prejudices in Workplace: Real or Perceived?

Manjula Srivastav had been head of marketing for the last four years at Blue Chips, a computer product firm. The company’s turnover had increased by two-and-a-half times during the period and its market share in a number of products had also moved up marginally. What was creditable was that all this had happened in an environment in which computer prices had been crashing.

Although she had a talent for striking an instant rapport with people—particularly with the company’s dealers—Srivastav often found herself battling against odds, as she perceived it, as far as her relationships with her subordinates and peers in the company were concerned. Srivastav had to fight male prejudice all the way. She found it unfair that she had prove herself regularly at work and she used to make her displeasure on that score quite obvious to everyone.

Six months ago, Blue Chips had been taken over by an industrial group of business interests and was, more importantly, flush with funds. The change of ownership had led to a replacement of the managing director, had his priorities clear. “Blue Chips will go international,” he had declared in the first executive committee meeting, “and exports will be our first concern.”

Prakash had also brought in Harish Naik as his executive assistant with special responsibility for exports. Naik had been seconded to Srivastav for five weeks as a part of a familiarisation programme. Much of her surprise, he had been appointed, within two months, as the vice president (exports), with compensation and perks higher than her own. Srivastav had made a formal protest to Prakash who had assured her that he was aware of her good work in the company and that she would have an appropriate role once the restructuring plan he was already working on would be put into effect.

One morning, as she entered the office and switched on her workstation, a message flashed on her screen. It was from Prakash. “Want to see you sometime today regarding restructuring. Will 2.30 be convenient?” It went.

Later at his office, Prakash had come straight to the point. He wanted to create a new post called general manager (public affairs) in the company. “With your excellent background in customer relations and connections with the dealer network, you are the ideal material for the job,” he said, “and I am offering it to you.” Srivastav was quick to react. “There is very little I can contribute in that kind of job,” she said. “I was in fact expecting to be promoted as vice president (home marketing).” Prakash said that the entire gamut of marketing functions would be looked after by Naik who would have boardroom responsibility for both domestic and export sales. “If you continue in marketing , you will have to be reporting to Naik which I thought may not be fair to you. In any case, we need someone who is strong in marketing to handle public affairs. Let me assure you that the new post I am offering will in no way diminish your importance in the company. You will in fact be reporting to me directly.”

“You are being unfair and you are diminishing my importance in the company,” reported Srivastav. “You know that I am a hardcore marketing professional and you also know I am the best. Why then am I being deprived of a rightful promotion in marketing? Tell me,” she asked pointedly, “would you have done this to a male colleague?”

“That is a hypothetical question,” said Prakash. “But I can’t thin of any other slot for you in the restructuring plan I want to implement except what I am offering.”

“If the reason why you are asking me to handle this fancy public affairs business of yours,” said Srivastav, “is that you can’t thin of any other slot for me, then I would have second thoughts about continuing to work for this company.”

“May I reiterate,” said Prakash, “that I value your role and it is precisely because of this that I am delegating to you the work I have been personally handling so far? May I also state that I am upgrading the job not only because it is important but also because it should match your existing stature in the organisation?”

“I need to think about this. I will let you know tomorrow, said Srivastav and left the office.

Question:

What should she do?

CASE 3: Travails of a Training Manager

Ashwin Kumar, who had recently joined Systems, as a training manager, was feeling uneasy at the end of his first meeting with Pesu Shroff, the managing director of the company.

Systems was a ten-year old unit employing 300 people. It had a turnover of Rs 25 crore the previous year. The company traded in several products—both domestic and imported. Nearly 80 per cent of its turnover came from selling electronic component products which were assembled locally from imports of semiknocked-down kits. The landed cost of its imports was about Rs 10 crore last year. The products had an assured demand in the country, with smuggled goods from Taiwan and Korea providing whatever little competition there was. The company had been operating in a seller’s market for years and, as a result, most of its activities were production oriented rather than market oriented.

Early during the current financial year, the Government of India had announced, as a part of its economic liberalisation strategy, several policy measures which made imports costlier. All imports had to be financed by exports – there were restrictions on margin money and interest rates for working capital had shot up at one stroke. With little export income in its account, Systems had no choice but to discontinue importing SKD kits.

The company management had three option before it. First, to build up its domestic trading activity rapidly; second, to assemble at least a few of the component products from raw materials sourced locally and third, pursue after-sales service aggressively both to generate revenue in the short run and to establish an enduring client-base for the company’s products in the long run.

Invariably, this meant that the survival of Systems depended on how quickly it could train its people—beginning from a handful of sales engineers—to become market-centred and customer-friendly in their approach to business.

“The days of easy revenue money are over for us,” Shroff had told Kumar, who had a formal training in HRD and had been an officer in the training cell of a multinational firm before signing up with Systems. “We have to compete now in the marketplace and sell hard to be able to secure orders. Times are changing. We have to change too. And that is where you come in. it will be your responsibility, as the training manager, to ensure that people here acquire marketing skills,” he said, adding, as a clincher, “Frankly, have always felt that a salesman is born, not trained. I have had no belief in non-technical training. In fact, have found no need so far for a training manager at Systems. But I am prepared to do anything to get more sales.”

That punching was what had made Kumar uneasy. But he decided to let it pass. Over the next few days, Kumar got busy evolving specific training packages for workers, shop-floor supervisors, administrative staff and senior functional executives and an intensive module for field salesmen. Deciding to start with the salesmen first, he met the sales manager to ask him to depute 10 salesmen for a training session the next day. The sales manager was skeptical and only half-heartedly consented to release people for the two-day training.

The session was a disaster. No one showed any interest in the proceedings. In fact, one of the salesmen came up to him during the coffee break and said, “You see, all this is a waste of time. Take the client for a drink and you get the sale. It is as simple as that. It has worked in the past and it will work in the future.” Kumar laughed it off but the message had been delivered.

The attendance of the second day session was thin. This lack of interest was again obvious at the session for workers next day. The works manager who had originally agreed to the idea was vague about the absence of so many workers at the training session. “They are sick, I believe,” he said, making no attempts to hide his feeling that to him the whole thing was a big joke.

Kumar had encountered such resistance in the company where he had worked earlier. He also knew that his training capsule was very effective. He was aware that training needs were universal for all companies and so were the training techniques which were also easily transferable from one set of working conditions to another and from one industry to another. He also knew that he had the aptitude and interest to become a professional trainer.

But Kumar began to realise that he had made a few tactical errors in this particular case. He should have perhaps asked Shroff to personally inaugurate the training session to give the whole exercise an air of formality and, more importantly, of authority. He should have perhaps started with the module for senior executives first.

“I must find a way out of this and bring everyone round. There is simply no way I am going to accept failure. Whatever damage there has been must be undone. I must do something,” he said to himself.

Question:

What should he do?

CASE 4: The Resentful Employee

It was a bitterly cold night, and even at the far end of the bus the east wind that raved along the street cut like a knife. The bus stopped, and two women and a man got in together and filled the vacant places. The younger woman was dressed in sealskin, and carried one of those little Pekinese dogs that woman in sealskin like to carry in their laps. The conductor came and took the fare. Then his eye rested with cold malice on the beady-eyed toy dog, I saw trouble brewing. This was the opportunity for which he had been waiting, and he intended to make the most of it. I had marked him as the type of what Mr. Wells has called the Resentful Employee, the man with a general, vague grievance against everything, and in particular, a grievance against passengers who came and sat in his bus while he shivered at the door.

“You must take that dog out”, he said with sour venom.

“I shall certainly do nothing of the kind. You can take my name and address”, said the woman, who had evidently expected the challenge and knew the reply.

“You must take the dog out—that is my order”.

“I won’t go on the top in such weather. It would kill me”, said the woman.

“Certainly not”, said her lady companion. “You have got a cough as it is”.

“It is nonsense”, said her male companion.

The conductor pulled the bell and the bus stopped.

“This bus does not go on until that dog is brought out”. And he stepped on the pavement and waited. It was his moment of triumph. He had the law on his side and a bus-full of angry people under his thumb. His embittered soul was having a real holiday.

The storm inside rose high. “Shameful”, Why is not he in the army?” “Call the police”, “Let us all report him”, “Let us make him give us our fares back”, “Yes, that is it, let us make him give us our fares back”. Everybody was on the side of the lady and the dog.

That little animal sat blinking at the dim lights in happy unconsciousness of the rumpus of which he was the cause.

The conductor came to the door. “What is your number?” Said one taking out a pocket-book, with a gesture of terrible things, “There is my number”, said the conductor unperturbed. “Give us our fares back—you have engaged to carry us—you can not leave us here all night”. “No fares back”, said the conductor.

Two or three of the passengers got out and disappeared into the night. The conductor took another turn on the pavement, then went and had a talk with the driver. Another bus, the last on the road, sailed by, indifferent to the shouts of the passengers to stop. “They stick by each other, the villains”, was the comment.

Some one pulled the bell violently. That brought the driver round to the door. “Who’s conductor of this bus?” He said and paused for a reply. None coming, he returned to his seat and resumed beating his arms across his chest. There was no hope in that quarter. A policeman strolled up and looked in at the door. An avalanche of indignant protests and appeals burst on him. “Well, he has got his rules you know”, he said generally. “Give your name and address”, “That is what is being offered and he won’t take it”. “Oh”, said the policeman, and he went away and took his stand a few yards down the street, where he was joined by two more constables.

And still the little dog blinked at the lights, and the conductor walked to and from on the pavement like a captain on the quarter-deck in the hour of victory. A young woman whose voice had risen high above the gale inside, descended on him with an air of threatening and slaughter. He was immovable as cold as the night and hard as the pavement. She passed on in a fury of importance to the three policemen who stood like a group of statuary up the street watching the drama. Then she came back, imperviously beckoned her “Young man” who had a silent witness of her rage, and vanished. Others followed. The bus was emptying. Even the dashing young fellow who had demanded the number, and who had declared he would see this thing through if he sat there all night, had taken an opportunity to slip away.

Meanwhile the Pekinese party was passing through every stage of resistance to abject surrender. “I will go to the top”, said the sealskin lady at last. “You must not.” “I will”. “You will have pneumonia”. “Let me take it” (This from the man). “Certainly not—she would die with her dog”. When she had disappeared up the stairs the conductor came back, pulled the bell, and the bus went on. He stood sourly triumphant while his conduct was savagely discussed in his face by the remnant of the party.

Then the engine struck work, and the conductor went to the help of the driver. It was a long job, and presently the lady with the dog stole down the stairs and re-entered the bus. When the engine was put right the conductor came back and pulled the bell. Then his eye fell on the dog and his hand went to the bell-rope again. The driver looked around, the conductor pointed to the dog, the bus stopped, and the struggle recommenced with all the original features, the conductor walking the pavement, the driver smacking his arms on the box, the little dog blinking at the lights, the sealskin lady declaring that she would not go on the top and finally going.

Questions:

1. Which theory of motivation do you use to motivate the bus crew? Why?

2. If you were the conductor what would you do?

3. If you were the lady with the pet dog, what would you do?

4. Role play (a) the conversation between the conductor and the lady with sealskin, (b) between policeman and the fellow passengers, and (c) between the conductor and the driver.

CASE 5: Protest Over Job Losses

Bitter it may taste, shrill it may sound, and sleepless nights it may cause, but it is true. In a major shake up, Airbus—the European aircraft manufacturer—has thrown a big shock to its employees. Before coming to the details of the shock, a peep into the company’ resume.

Name: Airbus

Created: 1970

President CEO: Louis Gallois

Employees: 57,000

Turnover (2006): 26 bn (Euro)

Total aircraft sold (Feb.2007): 7187

Delivered: 4598

Headquarters: Toulouse (France)

Facilities: 16

Rival: Boeing

Airbus announced on February 27, 2007, that it would shed 10,000 jobs across four European countries and sell six of its units. On the same day the hapless workers did what was expected of them—downed tools and staged protests. The protesting workers at Airbus’s factory at Meaulte, northern France, were seen picketing outside the factory gate after holding up production a day earlier. To be fair to Airbus, its management entered talks with unions before the job loss and sale was formally announced. But the talks did not mollify the agitated workers.

Job shedding and hiring of units are a part of Power8 restructuring plan unleashed by Airbus to save itself from increasing loss of its grounds to the arch rival, Boeing Co.

Airbus’s Power8 strategy was first mooted in October 2006, but sparked a split between France and Germany over the distribution of job losses, and the placement of future ones. Later, the two countries agreed to share both job losses and new technology.

The Power8 plan, if finalised, would mean a 9 per cent reduction to Airbus’s 55,000 employee strength.

Questions:

1. Why should Power8 focus on shedding jobs to save on cost? Are there no alternative strategies?

2. Will the proposed shedding of jobs and sale of six units help Airbus survive the intense competition from Boeing?

CASE 6: The Office Equipment Company

Office Equipment Company (OEC) must identify a manager to help set up and run a new manufacturing facility located in the Palestinian-controlled Gaza Strip. The position will have minimum duration of three years. OEC manufactures office equipment such as photo copying machines, recording machines, mail scales, and paper shredders in eight different countries. OEC’s products are distributed and sold worldwide.

Currently, OEC has no manufacturing facility in Middle East but has been selling and servicing products in Israel since the early 1970s. OEC sells its products in Israel through independent importers, but is now convinced that it needs to have a local manufacturing facility in order to take full advantage of the new, more peaceful situation in the region. Despite occasional turmoil that interrupts new moves towards peace, OEC’s sales in Israel have been improving, with increase in profitability. OEC has recently been contacted by distributors in Jordan and Egypt about possible sales of OEC products. Incentives for foreign direct investment in Gaza Strip could help OEC develop extensive operations in the region at considerably reduced cost.

OEC hopes to begin constructing a factory in Gaza Strip within the next six months. This factory would import products and assemble them. The construction of the assembly plant would be supervised by an US technical team and a US expatriate would be assigned to direct the production. This expatriate manager would report directly to the headquarters of OEC at US.

The option of filling the position of managing director with someone from outside the firm is alien to OEC’s policy. Otherwise the options are fairly open. OEC uses a combination of home-country, host-country, and third-country nationals in top positions in foreign countries. It is not uncommon for managers to rotate among foreign and domestic locations (in the US). In fact, it is increasingly evident that international experience in an important factor in deciding the persons who will be appointed to top corporate positions. The sales and service operations in Israel have been controlled through OEC’s European regional office located in Podernone, Italy. A committee at the European regional office has quickly narrowed its choice to the following five candidates.

Tom Zimmerman Zimmerman joined the firm 30 years ago and is well-versed in all the technical aspects required for the job. Zimmerman is a specialist in start-up projects, and has supervised the construction of new manufacturing facilities in four countries. He has never been assigned to work abroad permanently. His assignments have usually been in developed countries and for periods of less than six months. He is considered to be extremely competent in the duties he has performed during the years, and will retire in about four-and-a-half years. Neither he nor his wife speaks any language other than English—their children have grown and are living in the US. Zimmerman is currently in charge of an operation about the size that the one in Gaza Strip will be after the factory begins operating. However, as that operation is being merged with another, this present position will become redundant.

Brett Harrison At age forty, Brett has spent 15 years with OEC. He is considered highly competent and capable of moving into upper-level management within the next few years. He has never been based abroad but has frequently travelled to Latin America. Both he and his wife speak Spanish adequately. Their two children, aged fourteen and fifteen, are just beginning to study Spanish. His wife is a professional as well, holding a responsible marketing position with a pharmaceutical company.

Carolyn Moyer Carolyn joined OEC after getting her BS in engineering from Purdue University and an MBA from the prestigious Bond University in Australia. At the age of 37, she has already moved between staff and line positions of growing responsibility. For two years, she was the second-in-command of a manufacturing plant in Texas about the size of the new operation in Gaza Strip. Her performance in that post was considered excellent. Currently, she works as a member of a staff production planning team. When she joined OEC, she had indicated her eventual interest in international responsibilities because of a belief that it would help her advancement in career. She speaks French well and is not married.

Francis Abhrams Francis is currently one of the assistant managing directors in a large Mexican operation, which produces for and sells to the Mexican market. He is a Jewish New Yorker who has worked for OEC in Mexico for five years. He holds an MBA from New York University and is considered to be one of the likely candidates to head a Guatemalan operation when the present managing director retires in four years. He is 35, married with four children (ages two to seven). He speaks Hebrew adequately. His wife does not work outside the home and speaks only English.

Leon Smith At 30, he is assistant to the managing director at the Athens manufacturing facility, a position he assumed when he joined OEC after completing his under-graduate studies in the US seven years ago. He is considered competent, especially in production operations, but lacks in managerial experience. He was successful in increasing OEC’s production output in Athens during his tenure in Athens. Leon travelled extensively in the Middle East. He went to the college with a number of students from Saudi Arabia, Jordan, and Egypt. These individuals came from prominent political and business families in their countries, and Leon has visited them during his travels. He thus has the advantage of being reasonably well-connected with influential families in the region. He is not married.

Questions:

1. Whom should the committee choose for the assignment and why?

2. What problems might each individual encounter in the position?

3. How might OEC go about minimising the problems that the chosen person would have in managing the Gaza Strip operations?

Assignment Solutions, Case study Answer sheets

Project Report and Thesis - Contact

[email protected]

www.mbacasestudyanswers.com

ARAVIND – 09901366442 – 09902787224

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perriewinklenerdie · 4 years

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All the right moves (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Open Heart, Ethan Ramsey x MC

Author’s note: Hello, hello, hello! It's an idea that flew into my head and kinda refused to let go. It left me no choice, I had to get it out of my system, so here we are :D

AO3 link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23218528

Tag list: @paleweasels , @lilyofchoices , @hopelessromantic1352, @kittykatchoices, @valiantlychaoticbarbarian , @radlovedreamer , @usuallyamazinglyaverage, @strawberrwess @palestazure, @cordoniaqueensworld, @universallypizzataco, @princess-geek, @faithhasnowords, @mightyfangirlofthefandoms, @drakewalkerfantasy, @timmagicktoad, @laceandlula, @greywitchyshots, @llamasgrl, @gingerjane15, @bucket-harrington , @marywrites-things , @ethanplaysfavorites , @mfackenthal , @betelgeusebee , @simsvetements, @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction, @buzz-bee-buzz, @owleyes374, @cora-nova, @aworldoffandoms, @l822, @cream-ray, @ughhhxjazzy, @silverlitskies, @justendlesssummerfeels, @togetherwearerapture, @desmaranj, @edgiestwinter, @friedherringclodthing, @daisy-ashton, @waytooattuned, @choicesgremlin , @lapisreviewsstuff, @the-soot-sprite, @writerapprentice, @chasingrobbie, @choicesobsessedd, @x-kyne-x, @thisperfectmemory, @drakewalker04, @rookie-ramsey, @jlynn12273, @thepinknymph @dr-brianna-casey-valentine, @a-i-n-a-a-s-h

Enjoy! <3

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Ethan loathed the politics with passion. Not all the people involved in it though, just most of them. They were twofaced and fake, which rubbed Ethan the wrong way. If someone was going to lie to his face with an artificial smile, he couldn’t stop himself from cutting their bullshit immediately and just asking them to tell him what they wanted.

Claire, on the other hand, was brilliant with people, and he knew it. She was his lifeline, his saving grace, and he knew that no matter what, he couldn’t deal with it all without her. He couldn’t deal with salesmen without her either, a random thought that he never thought he would have, but here they were.

The diagnostic team was summoned that morning along with the Board of Directors to discuss the new conditions that Edenbrook had to face. Naveen was twisting his fingers restlessly when Ethan opened the door for him and Claire to walk through, going so far as to pull out a chair for her before he sat down himself. Of course, everyone knew that Ethan was a gentleman, so his behavior wasn’t that surprising, but the fact that he trailed the resident like her shadow when they were together raised a few eyebrows over the past weeks.

“What did they say?” Claire asked, her voice filled with uncertainty, not only because of the situation, but also because of the setting she was in. Being the youngest in the room, she felt as though she maybe shouldn’t or couldn’t speak. No matter what others thought, Naveen smiled at her sadly, then pushed a stack of papers to the center of the table.

“Their first decision was to take away our funding. No amount of convincing could change their mind, Mass Kenmore seemed like a better option for them. Of course, I wasn’t about to give up without a fight.” He laughed at that, shaking his head and pointing to the second pile of files next to him. “Somehow, I managed to convince them to reconsider. Your input did a lot, that chance is all because of your dedication.” His eyes swept over every single face in the room, warmth and gratitude in them. “And they gave us a condition. Make it happen, and we get our funding back.”

“Sounds like a trap to me.” Ethan muttered, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back in his chair. Claire looked back at him, noticing how he tried and failed to look at the bright side of the things.

“They said that, in order to get the money back in our corner, we need to, ridiculous as it sounds, given the fact that they didn’t want to spend any money here in the first place, open a new place for the patients.” The Chief explained, his gestures conveying how ridiculous the condition sounded.

“First they don’t want to give us money, and now they want us to make a place so they can spent even more money here? Idiots.” June chipped in, mumbling the last insult under her breath, but loud enough for everyone to hear, causing the room to laugh, the atmosphere loosening up almost immediately.

“Are there any conditions that the place has to meet?” Claire asked, drumming her fingers against her thigh gently. Ethan’s eyes strayed from the paper he was reading to the movement of her digits before he realized what he was doing. She noticed. Of course she noticed, smirking to herself when she traced a shape of a heart on her jeans and his cheeks reddened slightly, breathing in deeply. Their colleagues seemed oblivious to the teasing they were doing.

“They mentioned something about the amount of rooms and what had to be in them. It’s all in the papers in front of you, but what stuck in my mind was the very complex outline of how the waiting area is supposed to look like.” He reached for the paper, squinting his eyes so he could read what was written on it. “A fireplace, couches, blankets, cafeteria, a patio-“

“That’s ridiculous.” Ethan moved to stand up, only to be stopped by Claire’s hand, grabbing his arm and squeezing lightly. Their eyes met, a silent argument going on for a couple of seconds. Finally, he let out a huffed breath and sat back down, leaving Claire with a satisfied grin.

“So, what we should do now is… start looking for a house? Cause that’s what it is, right?” she asked, shrugging her shoulders slightly. It really was ludicrous, just like Ethan said, but in their current circumstance, they couldn’t do much.

“Essentially, yes. I’ve already looked into a couple of locations, and I think some of them have potential. But of course, we won’t know until we go there and see it for ourselves.” Naveen summed up everything with a bright smile, a glimmer of hope in his posture.

“We can start visiting those places after our shifts are over.” Baz chimed in, beating his hands against the table a couple of times, then standing up.

“Unfortunately, we don’t have enough time to wait that long. If we’re going to find a place, get renovations done and move our patients there, we need to act now. I’ve already cleared Ethan’s, Claire’s and mine schedules, we’re leaving in twenty minutes.”

The meeting ended a few minutes later, and all the doctors left the room. Claire went back to the locker room to leave her white coat and grab her handbag. By the time she reached Naveen’s car, both men were already there, visibly arguing.

“I need my map, Ethan, and I won’t be able to look at it if it’s in the back seat.” Naveen grinned mischievously, leaning against the hood of his vehicle. Ethan’s face hardened, slowly realizing what the older man was trying to do.

“I can hold your map if you really need it, but may I remind you that you have a GPS?” he argued, trying his hardest to mess up whatever plan his mentor’s mind has created.

“Oh no, that won’t be necessary.” The Chief opened the door, threw his bag and coat into the front seat, then turned around to say something, when he noticed Claire approaching them. “Dr. Herondale! Just in time, we’re about to head over to the first location.”

Ethan’s eyes looked over her briefly, his eyes widening when he saw the outline of the heart she drew during the meeting, still on her thigh. He cleared his throat to distract from the rather obvious rush of blood to his cheeks, for the second time that day.

Naveen nudged his head towards the car, indicating for Ethan to get in, then opened the door for Claire with a megawatt smile. She thanked him quietly, sitting next to Ethan without a single word, but her eyes locked on him. Her eyebrow shot up at the sullen look on his face, unsure what that was all about. Mostly because they didn’t have time, but also because they had company, she decided not to dig. At least for now.

Twenty minutes later, they reached the first destination. A large house on the beach, made of wood, with large windows. There seemed to be a bit of a backyard, but other than that, it was a plain building. Claire didn’t see the potential in the place, but for the sake of being precise, they had to see it. She could see Ethan scowling at the sight before him, and the last thing they needed was for him to be angry, so she walked past him, pinching his arm briefly.

“Chin up, smile on, Ramsey. You’re going to scare the walls off.” She turned around and began walking backwards to wink at him. He stopped dead in his tracks and watched her disappear into the house. Naveen stood next to him, smirking at the influence the young woman had on his friend.

“How long?” he asked quietly, waiting for the attending to look at him. Ethan took a deep breath, debating whether he should let him know that he knows exactly what he was asking or not.

“Since Dolores died.” A deep sigh escaped Ethan’s lips, his eyes falling shut. Before that exact moment, he thought about it only one or two times. And every time, he realized that it’s been going on for so long, that he barely remembered what it was like to not have her in his head.

“And how long are you going to be a stubborn ass?” Naveen asked again, waiting for the other man’s eyes to snap open in shock.

“Did you just call me an ass?”

“No, I called you a stubborn ass. You already know when she entered that mind of yours. You also know that no matter how hard you try, you can’t cut her out. So, it seems to me like it’s time to give yourself a chance to be happy.” The Chief concluded, seeing the battle that was going on in the head of the younger doctor. Heavy burden and underlying weariness were painfully visible in his eyes and on his face.

“I know I can’t run forever. I’m not that strong, I am going to break at some point. But that could be going hand in hand with a scandal. If I can postpone it, protect her, even if only for one more day, I will.”

“Did you think that maybe she doesn’t want you to protect her like that?” Naveen pointed out, opening his mouth to say more but in that moment, Claire walked back outside, shaking her head to confirm what they all already knew. Without another moment of hesitation, they went back to the car and moved on. Ethan’s head was swimming with all the possibilities and ways to resolve the knot in his head. He could feel her eyes on him, warming up the side of his face, wanting nothing more than to reach out for her, to tell her everything that weight on his mind, but it was not the time nor the place for that conversation.

Another thirty minutes passed, and their car got stuck in a bit of a traffic, right before they were to reach the next location. Naveen caught Claire’s eyes in the rearview mirror, and a second later, music blasted from the speakers and the two of them started singing at the top of their lungs. She laughed, leaning into Ethan and pulling him to her, trying to make him sway in time with the music. He knew his scowl wouldn’t discourage her, but he tried anyway, noticing how she smirked and then threw her arm over his shoulder, bringing their faces close together. Her voice got softer and gentler, singing quietly. Looking into the rearview mirror, he caught Naveen’s gaze. His mentor winked at him, nudging his head towards Claire, hoping to encourage Ethan, but all he got was a glare.

“Why do I put up with both of you?” he muttered, loud enough for both of his companions to hear.

“Because you love us, and you can’t live without our brilliant humor?” the older doctor offered, eliciting a laugh from Claire and a scoff from Ethan.

After what seemed like forever, they stepped into the second location. Naveen walked ahead, leaving the pair behind. They walked in silence, looking around the rooms, trying to gather all the changes and renovations that would need to be done, realizing more and more that it was pointless. The building was old, walls were falling apart, floors were damaged beyond repair and window frames were barely hanging onto the walls.

Claire was examining the ceiling when Ethan tripped over some debris and stumbled into her, sending them both onto floor. His hand wrapped around the back of her neck to shield it from the impact, not having enough time to do anything else. He kept himself up on his arm to avoid falling on top of her, a sharp pain radiating from his elbow to his shoulder. Their faces were inches apart, both of them breathing heavily, but neither saying a word. It’s been a while since they were this close together, and while they knew there was nothing remotely emotional about their circumstance, the silent exchange between their eyes told a different story.

Ethan’s nose brushed against hers, his gaze falling to her lips and lingering there for a much longer moment than it should. When he looked at her again, he saw vulnerability and impossible softness in her eyes, something he knew for a fact that she could see in his too. The distance between their faces grew smaller and smaller, until their lips were mere inches apart. He could barely hear a thing that happened around him, his blood was rushing in his ears, tuning out everything else.

“Now that is a beautiful sight.” Naveen’s voice broke the connection between them, causing their heads to snap to the side, only now noticing the Chief, who must have been standing there for quite some time, watching the situation unfold. Ethan cleared his throat, shooting up to his feet, then offering his hand to Claire. She took it gratefully, letting him pick her up, both of them avoiding looking at each other or their friend. “Come on, you two. We have a few more places to see.”

Maybe they expected it to be the case, maybe they didn’t, but it turned out that every place they visited was worse than the one before. How that was even possible, they didn’t know, but somehow, each building was falling apart more than the previous one, slowly, gradually descending into the pits of despair. They were ready to throw the idea away altogether and just give up, when they pulled up to the last location.

It didn’t look like anything they were looking for. Stone walls, floors lined with stone panels, white windows and wooden door. Everything made up a warm feeling to the place, inviting to take a look inside. Claire smiled gently, being the first one to step forward, leaving the other two behind.

Rooms were big and in a surprisingly good state. Various tables and chairs were scattered among the building, some had couches and armchairs. She found a piano in the room at the very end of a house, sitting next to it. Having played it in the past had its perks, but ever since she went to med school, she didn’t have time or opportunities to practice, so all she had going for her was the kinesthetic memory of her body.

Her fingers brushed against the keys, the delicate memory filling the room. She closed her eyes, slowly remembering how the notes went, gaining confidence. As the music went on, she got lost in her head, drowning out her surrounding, reaching with her memory back to the time when her life was easier. She wouldn’t exchange the one she had now, even if she could, but it was nice to look back at her younger self.

Unknown to her, she had two pairs of eyes on her, both stunned into silence. Ethan was enchanted by the melody flowing from underneath her fingers, stepping closer to her like he couldn’t stop himself, until her was standing right behind her, mesmerized. The room soon fell silent, save it for their breaths. Claire’s shoulders moved up and down, her head turning to the side, revealing the smirk on her face.

“You couldn’t possibly be staring harder, Ethan.” She teased him, turning around fully. Ethan’s cheeks reddened slightly, his gaze avoiding her. Naveen clapped, smiling widely at her.

“That was beautiful. I didn’t know you could play the piano, Claire.” He applauded her, walking over to them both. She shrugged her shoulders, pressing a random key on the piano.

“My Dad wanted me to play an instrument, but him and my Mom never quite agreed what I should play.”

“What they were torn between?” this time it was Ethan that asked the question, finally finding his voice. Her lips curled into a fond smile.

“Piano and a violin.”

“Piano won I guess.” It was a valid assumption that Naveen made, but, to the surprise of both men, she shook her head, answering with humor in her voice.

“Bold of you both to assume that I didn’t learn both.” She observed how their eyes went wide and then they laughed, Naveen’s whole posture shaking. “My brother had it way easier.”

“He didn’t have to learn any instrument?” Ethan snickered, folding his arms over his chest and leaning against the side of the piano.

“Oh no, he tried. But he is tone-deaf and ‘absolutely garbage’ as my Mom used to say, so they gave up.” she explained, applying her British accent to her Mom’s words.

Without another word, she stood up and moved to another room, still feeling Ethan’s eyes on her. For a man that insisted on them keeping the professional relationship, he spent and awful lot amount of time by her side, observing her, looking at her when he thought no one would notice. She does, every time, and sometimes she chooses to tease him about it, sometimes she lets him think he is sneaky in his actions.

While walking through the long hall, her eyes registered the change in the pattern of the wall. To her left, was a window, with one of the most beautiful stained glass designs she’s ever seen. The sun illuminated it softly, enriching the colors, creating rises and falls, curves, various tones to the pieces that came together in harmony.

“They bring out your freckles.” Ethan’s smooth voice filled the void in her mind, grabbing her attention. She tilted her head slightly, not looking away from the picture in front of her. “And your eyes. They sparkle more, though perhaps it has nothing to do with the light.”

“You must be diagnostician, Dr. Ramsey, for you are very perceptive.” She mused gently, turning to fully look at him. The darker parts of the glass casted intricate swirls onto his face, interlacing with the mimic lines that were already there. Her finger traced one of the paths, barely touching his skin, just enough to make him shiver. He couldn’t fight the smile that pulled on his lips, reflected clearly in his eyes. “There’s that smile I wanted to see.”

Never giving him enough time to say anything, she took a step back, glancing at him with a type of regret that he knew all too well. He felt it every second of every day for what felt like ages, the burden he himself chose to carry, and only he could relief himself of it. All it took was a simple ‘yes’.

More exploring of the building revealed that they may have found a perfect match. It was big enough to fit the requirements, and new enough to not require that much work to be transformed into a medical place. Just to be sure that they had everything they needed, Naveen decided to split up, leaving Ethan and Claire alone to examine the other part of the house while he inspected the rest and checked the details on the blueprints.

He walked slowly, observing how her eyes lit up when she found a new stained glass or a new fireplace. She skimmed her fingers over the stones on the wall, counting in her head how many rooms they were passing through. Ethan started thinking about to future purposes of the spaces around them, seeing in his mind how it would look once all the renovations were done.

“Ethan.” She muttered softly, standing in the doorway leading outside. He walked over to her side, looking down at her, and when she felt his gaze on her face, she nodded towards the view before them.

The same walls that made up the house lined out the patio, letting in just enough light of the afternoon sun to bathe them both in warmth. His fingers brushed against hers and then slowly laced with them, giving them a gentle squeeze. Her thumb caressed his palm, tracing soothing circles. She took a step forward, then another, pulling him along with her so they could see more.

The multiple plants lined the sides, a small, round garden filled with green bushes. Yet another fireplace with a few seats placed beside it was situated next to the door, an old string of lights hanging over their heads. Ethan reluctantly let her go, focusing on the technical side of the building while she watched the nature.

He did a round along the walls of the patio and then stopped by the table, standing next to the window. His eyes trained on Claire, watching how she muttered to herself about all the different kinds of bushes and flowers.

“I didn’t know you knew your way around plants.” She turned to look at him, brushing her hair behind her shoulder.

“Good to know I can still surprise you.” teasing him, she strolled over to the table he was standing by. He placed his hands on the flat surface, leaning in her direction. “My Mom loves plants, so I picked up a lot of her knowledge when she was gardening in our backyard. She uses every winter evening to read the gardening magazines and she does sketches of her plans.”

“She seems very dedicated to the things she loves. Must be where you’re getting it from.” He mused, his eyes roaming her face with a ghost of a smile. She bit the corner of her lip cheekily, mirroring his stance, their faces close enough for him to notice the golden specks in her eyes.

“Aren’t you smooth.”

The air stood still, not moving even one strand of their hair, the absolute silence deafening. Electricity cracked between them, charging the atmosphere, and to Ethan it seemed as though keeping away from her even a second longer was simply impossible. Like two magnets, the pull was too strong to resist.

His hand grabbed the collar of her shirt, creasing the material, and pulled her to him gently, fitting his lips to hers. She hummed, letting the kiss linger, moving her lips once, twice. She wouldn’t be the one to lean away, he started it, he would have to be the one to end it.

It came later than she thought it would, his face still close, his grip still tight. Their gazes met, her irises so dark they were bordering on being black, just like his. He was afraid to step away, afraid to face the fact that she may realize how much she’s putting herself through for him and just stop trying. Her silence didn’t do anything to make him feel better either.

“Come back.” She whispered, reaching with her hand for him. Her fingers dipped into the gap between the buttons of his shirt, grasping the fabric and yanking him forward, slamming their lips back together.

It was his turn to moan, barely above a whimper, eyes falling back shut. With both hands, he gripped her hips, picking her up and sliding her over the smooth surface towards him. Her knees pressed into his thighs from both sides; she threw her arm over his shoulder, letting her fingers tangle in his hair, her nails scraping his scalp softly.

His embrace was everything at once, both strong and gentle, tight and loose, too much and not enough. Claire leaned backwards a bit with Ethan following suit, the kiss deepening with each move of their lips, with every heavy breath, every single pant and groan that escaped them.

He aimed his assault towards her neck, his stubble tickling her skin more with every move he made. She giggled, combing through his strands, endorphins rushing through her bloodstream. Her ankles crossed behind his back, pushing him a bit closer to her. She pulled him back to her, biting his lower lip and pulling on it, a deep growl reverberating in his chest.

“So… should I leave you two here or…?” Naveen’s voice sliced through the mist in their minds, both of them looking to the side to see their friend, leaning against the wall with arms crossed over his chest and a wide smile. Ethan cleared his throat, taking a step away from Claire, doing anything he could to avoid looking at either of them. “How about that, I’ll go back to the car and give you a few minutes to talk it through. We need to head back soon.”

Once they were alone again, the tingling in his hands appeared again, pushing him to touch her again, to hug her again. Watching her he noticed how she chewed on her lower lip nervously, already feeling yet another rejection from him coming. It stung him to know that he did it enough times for her to expect it.

Something changed. Maybe it was Naveen, much more at ease than either of them when he caught them tangled on top of the table. Maybe it was her, and him not being able to resist her. Or maybe it was simply that he’s kept himself away from her enough times for him to get tired and just give in. No matter what kind of a combination of all those reasons settled into his mind, it caused him to walk back over to her and press his lips to her forehead.

“Come on, we need to go. We have a lot to talk about.” He murmured, catching her hand with his and lacing their fingers together. Her eyes widened slightly, unsure what was happening. He laughed breathlessly, helping her stand up.

Naveen sat behind the steering wheel in his car, combing through his brain to find anything to say to Ethan that would break that stubbornness of his. To him it seemed fairly simple, and he knew for a fact that other people around the couple knew it too. The only blind people in this were Claire and Ethan themselves.

Something flickered in his peripheral vision, making him look up, just in time to see the two of them walking towards the vehicle. Ethan’s face was like an open book, something that didn’t happen often. All the nervousness, anxiety, relief and hope he felt, all right there, spelled out on his features.

Claire was a different story. It was as though they swapped their mind sets and demeanors, most likely due to the severe stress that they’ve both been under. If Ethan was easy to read, she was impossible to decode. Nothing was certain, nothing was clear, but he couldn’t really blame her. From what he gathered, Ethan has pushed her away enough times for her to develop a coping mechanism.

Despite the mixed emotions emanating from them, their hands were intertwined tightly. The touched lingered when he opened the door for her, the faintest of smiles on his lips when he looked at her. She observed him, still hesitant when it came to his sudden surge of delicate affection. It just wasn’t like him to behave like that and she couldn’t shake away the feeling that he would backpedal, and she would end up getting hurt all over again.

As soon as he sat down next to her, he grabbed her hand again, tracing her knuckles with his thumb. He observed her, desperation slipping into his eyes. He was the one that wronged her, he wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t want to talk to him, if she wanted him to leave her alone.

It was as though she could hear the noise in his head, the frightening thoughts that covered everything else. Naveen always knew that she was the one thing that could calm Ethan down, but for the first time in so long, he saw her doing it. Something so simple that it almost seemed impossible to work, and yet it did.

She leaned towards him, slowly and carefully, as though she was defusing a bomb, then rested her head on his shoulder. Both her hands grasped his, her eyes locked on their fingers. Any tension that was in his or her body dissipated soon after they fell into the comfortable science, and Naveen knew that, while they still had a long way to go, they would be alright.

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