#MAS A RAP LINE-

[cat-loving-elf]

"more yapping"

in the sky the stars

going round like cars

fuckin countless suns

a green guy runs

an alien shootin guns

kites flying in the blue

how - i ain’t got no clue

it’s magic, just like a cows moo

above em kites, you got balloons

then even higher, you got those moons

but much lower, got corporate goons

even lower, the earths centre

gravitational pull, the glass ender

issac damn newton - gravity’s guy

the fallin apple wasnt shy

i like that guy, newton

he helped do shit bout pluton

thanks to my man we know

10 kilonewtons is a metric ton

[chrissturnsfav]

𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐀𝐓

you get a little too excited after hearing chris' new song that briefly mentions you, wanting to show chris just how much you liked it.

ᰔᩚ smut, rapper!chris x singer!reader, oral (male receiving), dom!chris, face fucking, praise kink, dirty talk, use of pet names, titty play

ᰔᩚ w.c. 1,452

it’s late—too late, really—but that’s when chris does his best work. the soft glow of led lights lines the walls, bouncing off his chain and casting a blue sheen over his focused face. chris leans back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head, watching the track play on the monitor in front of him. a faint bassline thumps through the speakers, followed by his smooth, rhythmic flow.

next to him on a chair, you lounge with your legs crossed, your baby pink nails tapping rhythmically on your thigh as you listen closely.

you've been known for your own music—sugary pop with catchy hooks and infectious beats. tonight, though, you're there just for him, in his oversized hoodie and sparkly pink slides, your hair pulled up in a high ponytail.

there’s a hunger in his voice as he raps that wasn’t there before, something raw. the verses hit hard, the lyrics sharper than usual. you can tell he’s put more of himself into this one.

then, a certain line drops—one that catches you completely off guard. his voice lowers just a bit, smooth but unmistakably suggestive, "keep ya tits around cause they nice t'look at", you feel a flush creep up your neck, unable to hide your reaction, as the implication lands squarely between you two.

soon enough, the track ends, the beat fading into silence. chris raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by the look on your face. “didn’t think you’d catch that line, huh?” he says, smirking a little.

a faint smile tugs at your glossy lips, “oh, i caught it,” you say, folding your arms with a sly grin. “got a lot of nerve talking about me like that on a track.”

he chuckles, pushing his chair away from the desk and crossing the short distance between you two. “yeah? thought y'might like it,” he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave.

you try to keep it cool, rolling your eyes, but the tension is thick, and he can tell you’re a little thrown. he leans in, one hand resting on the back of the chair beside you, the chair he's sitting in now between your legs.

“didn’t mean t'shock you,” he teases, his face close to yours now. “but i meant it. got pretty tits ma," chris grins, running his tongue over his teeth like he knows exactly what he’s doing. 

"i really liked it. really bold of you," you say back quietly, his nose brushing against your own and you feel yourself rushing with desire already with a small smirk on your plump lips.

"mm, yeah?" he taunts, his hand moving to rest on your upper thigh, "wanna show me how much y'liked that?"

your smirk grows and you nod your head, bringing your face closer to chris' to brush your lips against his. "i do," you mutter, your voice hoarse with arousal.

"get on those knees f'me then," he says demandingly, his blue eyes glimmering with lust as his dick grows beneath his jeans.

you waste no time in doing what he says, pushing yourself off the chair to get on your knees in front of chris. he smirks wickedly down at you as you look up at him with wide doe eyes, sparkling beneath the blue led lights.

he runs his tongue across his bottom lip, one of his hands slowly gripping your jaw while his thumb brushes across your bottom lip, "gonna jus' stare up at me or y'gonna do sum'n?" he mumbles.

you smirk up at him softly, shifting your eyes to his lap as you undo his belt before unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans.

chris lifts his hips up for you, allowing you to pull his boxers and jeans down to a necessary spot just enough to free his rock hardness out that's already dripping with precum.

you look up at him seductively, one of his hands moving behind your head and massaging your soft hair with a smirk of anticipation on his lips.

you spit in your hand, wrapping it around his base and he exhales in arousal. you then lick a long stripe from his base to the tip, your dirty eye contact with him never ceasing.

"yeah, keep those pretty eyes on me ma," he mumbles, his voice raspy with desire as you nod.

you wrap your lips into an 'o' shape, taking just his tip into your mouth before swirling your tongue around it. chris grunts lowly, gripping your hair tightly as you kitty lick his sensitive tip.

you use your other hand to slowly move your hand up and down him, seeing chris get impatient at your painfully slow pace. he grunts as he speaks, "c'mon, jus’ take it. show me how much y'loved that verse mama."

his fingers tangle your through hair, gripping hard at the back as he pushes you further down on his cock. you gag a little when he hits the back of your throat so quickly.

you give into his impatient attitude, starting to quickly move your head up and down on him, your tongue swirling all around his lengthy, hot dick as drool seeps past your plush lips.

“yeaaah there ya go baby, jus' like that, my fuckin' filthy girl," he mutters, continuing to push your head.

you gag on him again, coughing around him and he chuckles darkly through breathless pants, his grip around your hair loosening a bit to let you catch your breath, "c'mooon you can take it. you loved the song so much didn't ya? show me ma, c'mon i know you can."

you nod, flickering your eyes pricked with tears up to his face and he smirks, biting his bottom lip when you move your head again. your lips are stretched around his girthy cock, drool pooling at his base and dribbled onto your chin as you continue.

your hand moves at an ungodly pace, jerking whatever couldn't fit in your mouth as you continue to suck his cock like it's the best popsicle you've ever tasted.

chris' smirk deepens at this as he groans, biting his bottom lip and gripping your hair tightly again at the immense pleasure, "look at you, so pretty. always a fuckin' droolin' mess on my cock," he grunts. "now, lemme see those pretty tits i was talkin' 'bout."

you use your other hand to pull the hoodie up, bunching it at your neck while chris' free hand moves to squeeze your plump tit with a hiss of pleasure as your mouth continues moving vigorously up and down his wet dick.

"there they are, such pretty tits my girl's got, so pretty 'n perfect," chris groans, his hips involuntarily thrusting up into your mouth again which you gag at, making him moan quietly.

his fingers pinch at your nipple, making you moan around his cock. the vibration sends a shiver through his body as he grunts, beginning to push your head down again as he grows close.

"jesus—fuck m'so close, keep goin' f'me...my good girl, takin' my cock like that," chris groans, hissing in pleasure through deep pants. his hips begin thrusting up into your mouth as you gag and moan around him.

he moans under his breath, breathing heavily as he squeezes your tit hard, fingers tangled in your hair, "yeah, jus' like that, doin' so good, lookin' so pretty wit' those lips wrapped around my cock."

chris' thrusts into your mouth grow erratic when the knot in his stomach tightens, leaving you whimpering and gasping around him. drool drips down your chin, bubbling around your lips as you repeatedly gag, "shit," he grunts.

with one final thrust into your stretched out mouth, his warm cum shoots inside. his eyes roll back, his grip on your hair and boob tight as he throws his head back with a low grunt.

chris pants, coming down from the high before you pull your mouth off of him and catch your breath, wiping your messy mouth with the back of your hand with his load still on your tongue.

he nods at you, "open," he says between breaths. you open your mouth, sticking your tongue out to show his hot and white seed on it.

chris smirks, humming out a soft chuckle before he speaks, "mhm, now swallow it."

you close your mouth and he watches your throat bob as you swallow every drop. he nods in satisfaction, his smirk deepening before he pats your cheek, "good girl."

you smirk cheekily as you stand up and watch him pull his boxers and jeans back up, "did that answer your question?" you say with a giggle.

chris scoffs, standing up from the chair and rebuckling his belt while he smirks at you, "do i even need t'answer that?”

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: chris rapping in the new video made me go feral. like he sounded so good i'm being dead honest. kinda feel like it could've been better cuz i got a lil lazy lol butttt i hope you guys loved thissss!!

thank you for reading!! <3

@chrissturnsfav ™

[nysrage]

Options, Aran Ojiro.

you weren’t used to dealing with someone one who had as many options as you, especially not with anyone you dealt with behind closed doors. pnd inspired lol.

cw: smut, sneaky linksss, texts, jealousy, cursing, arguing, pet names (baby, ma, pa, daddy), dirty talk, missionary (aran loves to look at your pretty face).

it’s homecoming week at your university, the streets and sidewalks of campus are filled with more than the normal amount of students. house parties being planned around every corner, and food trucks and goody stands wherever you turn. it was a weekend to be alive but for you it turned out to be a weekend full of surprises. the night was still young while you put on the final touches of accessories to pull your outfit together. snapping a couple mirror pics away as you waited for your friends to finish their pregame rituals. “one more shot then we gotta go!” your best friend gizelle giggled, alcohol already coursing through her system and you haven’t even left for the party yet.

you laughed to yourself, continuing to scroll through your phone and weeding out the pictures you didn’t like until a text from a certain someone came across your screen. a smile curving into your lips as you read over the message.

‘can’t wait to see you, ain seen yo fine ass all day.’

“c’mon y/n! take a shot with me!” sending a quick reply you stood, waving your hands in refusal, a flustered smile on your face. “you know i can’t hold liquor.” gizelle smacked her lips, grabbing and pulling you towards the island. “bitch it’s homecoming! throw it back.” placing a shot glass with a slice lime on its rim in your hand. filled with nothing but her fav alcohol, don julio. you timidly lift the glass to your lips. gizelle playfully rolling her eyes and pushing the cup to your lips for you to down, watching your face scrunch in disgust with a giggle. “now we’re ready t’go.”

soon as the door opened the smells of alcohol, weed, and other substances filled your nose. clouded over ceilings and music thumping from the speakers while you and your girls weaved through the crowd straight towards the kitchen. where different bowls of punch made by the greeks were lined up on the table, “so what y’all feeling? i’m leaning towards oil, centaur piss or tiddy milk.” your friend gizelle grabbed a couple cups, you laughed reading over the labels. “greeks always come up with the freakiest shit for drinks.”

you settled for the tiddy milk, joining your friends who were drunkenly rapping and dancing to the music. sipping on the pina colada flavor drink as you glanced over the crowded room. eyes being met with low ones that were already on you. chilling against the wall in rotation, black fit contrasting nice against his deep caramel skin. your mystery boo, aran ojiro. he gives you a smirk and a acknowledging wink, leaving you flustered with a small smile. trying your best to focus on your friends but you kept looking back over your shoulder, body feigning to be by his side. the only thing grabbing your attention is your phone flashing and buzzing in your hand with a thread of texts.

‘you look so good’

‘can’t wait to have yo sexy ass to myself tn.’

‘pretty ass’

‘you givin’ me them looks, must be ready to go’

you give him a glance, aran practically eye fucking you from across the room as he took a long pull of the blunt. you throw him a small innocent nod, your friends picking up on the signs and having a silent conversation between themselves. exchanging looks of ‘she finna leave us for some dick’ and longs sips of their drinks in agreement ‘mhmm’. gizelle finally speaking up with quick bump to the side. “leaving soon?” you suck your teeth and roll your eye’s playfully, ignoring your friends teasing to focus on your boo. aran texting you a quick ‘bet’ pushing himself off the wall and getting ready to make his exit until a girl walked up on him, tugging on his shirt to bring him closer with a smile as she spoke with him.

your eyebrow raised with a scoff, eyeing the interaction from across the room. blood beginning to boil at how long the two have been talking. “ain’t nobody worth leavin’ for.” you say to your friend, turning your back on aran, setting your phone on do not disturb and focusing on the group of girl for the rest of the night. trying your best to not let someone you weren’t even exclusively dating get to you, but your friends definitely noticed the slight shift. “you good girl?”

you nodded, deciding to call it a night. you weren’t one to dampen the mood and mope around your friends. “m’ just tired, been out all day..” gizelle nodded, not asking anymore questions and dropping you off to your dorm, ready to listen whenever your ready to share. the drive back was quiet but comfortable, soft music playing through the speakers. you just staring out at the road post in your thoughts. you didn’t understand what was going on with you. yeah you liked aran, but the traits and behaviors you were throwing you off. some were good and some were bad, like jealousy.

an emotion you never really displayed until now, not even with previous flings or boyfriends. you never really had to compete for anyone’s attention, so where you found yourself now was was new.. and embarrassing. “see you tomorrow luv.” you blew her a kiss, grabbing your things and hopping out the car. walking toward the complex entrance, you found aran waiting for you. ignoring him you walked straight to the door, searching in your purse for your keys. “wassup, so you ignoring me now?” you shook your head, back still turned to him as you placed your id on the reader, unlocking the door. “didn’t think you cared whether i ignored you or not..

“you seemed to have a good convo with ole girl at the party..”

“so you gone be like this over a girl talkin’ to me?” aran raised a brow in confusion, turning you around to face him. you gave him little time though, pulling out your phone and texting your friends you made it home. “aran i’m wayyy too drunk for this conversation right now.” but you were interrupted by him snatching your phone out of your hand.

“man look..” he sighed, placing your phone in his pocket. “m’ not about to do this childish bullshit with you, so what’s up with you.” you shrugged your shoulders, finally facing him with a facade of no emotion. “it doesn’t matter, aran. none of this shit matters.” aran’s face flashing with confusion, taken back by your response. “you could wake up one morning deciding to ghost me for that girl who was feeling all up on you tonight, or any of the options in yo roster and it wouldn’t be shit i could do about it. so why would you care if i’m mad huh?!”

“so you wanna pull that card? you know i ain’t even on that timing.” aran sucked his teeth, jaw clenching with agitation. “everytime i show you any type of progress to something more YOU RUN. that shit confusing!” you close your arms around yourself, embarrassed that he truly paid attention to you and your actions. “whatever aran, can i just get my phone.” he scoffed, running his tatted hand down his face with a sarcastic laugh leaving his lips. “now it’s whatever, shit don’t feel good do it?”

“you the first girl in a while that i felt was fucking with me for me and not some basketball wife fantasy.” aran breathed out, pausing for a second before going on. “you ain’t gotta fight for no spot that already reserved for you ma.” head falling down in defeated with his hands in his pockets.

“but you think i’m privileged or this lil boy who playing games..”

“i don’t think your either aran..” you slowly approached him, engulfing him in a tight hug. aran nuzzled into your neck, hands wrapped tight around your waist as he melted into the sweet smell of your perfume. nothing no longer exchanged because everything had already be said with those few words. aran pulled back, looking into your eyes before closing your lips in a deep, heated kiss. eyes darting all over his face once he pulled back, “still staying with me tonight? so i can hold and kiss on you.”

“hm i don’t know.” hiding your smirk in his neck, trying to continue your pouty attitude, aran smacked his teeth rubbing his hands all over your curves. squeezing on the soft flesh of your ass. “c’mon mama, come home with me.” you sighed, giving him a soft smile. mind set on giving him a hard time the rest of the night as he tries to make it up to you but not even five minutes passed in his room before you were puddy in his arms.

your anklets dangling next your ear while aran folded you up in his bed, ready to split you open. your whines sounding off the walls as his heavy dick slapped down on your throbbing clit. “looka that wet ass pussy..” running it through your slit and teasing your entrance with his tip before sinking into you deep, eyes rolling back with a moan as he caressed your sweet spot within. aran watching the white ring form around the base from how eagerly you sucked him in. keeping that steady pace that had you leaking for him, your hand pushing at his pelvis to keep him from going too deep, only for him to remove it and place it on your lower belly. pushing it down for you to feel him fucking you in ways you’ve never felt before. “feel me huh? m’ all yours mama, this yo dick.”

“ain’t no reason to trip”

your back arching into his at the deep slow pace he maintained, making sure you feel every single inch he gave you. stretching and filling you full while his thumb circled your clit and setting the fire in the pit of your stomach ablaze, legs shaking in his hold. “o-ohhh my g-goddd, paaa.” his eyes flickering from your pooling mess to your glazed over eyes, moaning at how you clenched down on him. “i know baby, i know..”

oncoming orgasm swelling your walls and trying to push him out. “open up for daddy.” slowly hardening his thrust, hips slamming against your pelvis with precision. moans catching in your throat as aran watches your pretty brown breast bounce in his hold, nipples hard and erect from the cool air against your scorching skin. aran wrapping a strong hand around your neck leaning in and giving you a sloppy kiss, slipping his tongue in your mouth and swallowing every moan you let out for him. aran pulled back with a smirk, lips red and wet from the kiss. “you still mad at me..?” you came hard, creamy arousal coating his dick and pelvis. aran slowly stroking you through your orgasm with a smile.

“nah, you ain’t mad..”

[strawwiibernyy]

Idol Rivals [Enhypen]

[Rivals to Lovers with Hyung Line]

╰┈➤ In which Enhypen hate you. Or at least that's what they claim they do.

__________________

LEE HEESEUNG:

When he learnt that a new girl group would debut under his company, he didn't give it much notice. His schedule was packed, so he hadn't met yet you or your members.

The day finally came, and Heeseung was rather eager to meet you. He thought you were comfortable to talk to, and you thought he was really pretty. However, his opinion on you changed when a collab got announced.

Enhypen and your group would do a collab stage together. The song demanded both good rap and vocal skills. At the end of it, there was a high note. A high note that Heeseung was excited to perform.

"Y/N is better at this, though." The vocal coach said, making Heeseung's jaw fall open. You couldn't help the small smile forming on your lips, to which Heeseung glared at. The vocal coach put down his papers with your grades, only for you to have a straight A.

"Then I will perform it alone?" You asked, gripping the paper with a huge smile.

"No, you will just be in charge of it. We could add behind some of Heeseung's high notes, you suit each other's voices well." Heeseung's blood was boiling. He got even more angry when he saw how eager you were to sing it alone.

He let a scoff under his breath, crossing his hands against his chest. You weren't exactly a modest person, and Heeseung was too competitive. At the end, he began practicing so hard just to over-sing you.

You talked with every Enhypen member, expect Heeseung. When you met them in the hallway, Heeseung would glare at you rather than wave. Then you would raise your right eyebrow, gaining a frown from him.

Things got so bad that fans noticed it as well. On the stage at the collab, you both acted like nothing happened. The stage finished with no mistakes, and your group dancing with Enhypen.

The cameras had given you two away. Behind the scenes of practicing for the collab, the camera caught you two glaring at each other. Besides that, they found it weird how you interacted with everyone expect from Heeseung.

Yes, Heeseung is your rival. But he is stupid hot when pissed.

PARK JAY:

You don't even remember how this rivalry with Jay started, since your groups weren't even that close. Enhypen were under HYBE, and with their packed schedule you met them a few times at SM. He was a fan of your group though, and knew a couple of songs.

It was at that time your group visited HYBE. Enhypen had just finished their practice, and they met you in the hallway. You explained to them that you were looking for Le Sserafim.

"Wanna come and hang out with us?" The suggestion made Jay's eyes get wide. Enhypen looked around at each other, wondering what they should say. Tomorrow was free for them, so it wouldn't hurt hanging out with you and your friends for a while?

Well, they should have declined. Yours and Jay's mini arguments made the room awkward. The reason by itself was stupid, but you and Jay viewed it differently.

"What are you saying? Italy is in Europe and its capital is Madrid." Jay said, laughing at Jungwon's mistake. He had mentioned about an Italian engene, and the conversation ended up with Jay showing off again.

However, he wasn't the only smart one in his group right now. Because the group contained you as well.

"I think you have confused the countries because Spain's capital is Madrid. Italy's capital is Rome." You replied, making Jay's smile drop. The rest of the group filled the room with cheers, while Jay's eyes were pinned on you.

That smirk as you watched them cheer at your answer. Like knowing Italy's capital made you any smarter than him. A 'tch' left his mouth, waiting till his friends finally stop.

"Jay hyung, she might be smarter than you." Jungwon said, angering his friend even more. Jay looked towards your way, leaning back on the couch.

"She whished."

The whole night, Jay was trying to find anything to correct you at. Geography, maths, Korean. He didn't care. Anything so he could shut that annoying mouth of yours.

Fans still haven't noticed that rivalry, since your groups barely interacted. The only interaction you had with him was for a tik tok challenge. The stuff knew better than to pair you together, so you did it with their maknae instead.

Yes, Jay is your rival. But he is stupid hot when he corrects you.

SIM JAKE:

Jake knew it was wrong to hate you, but he did. And very much. As the social and extroverted person he is, he collects friends like pokemons. He would never have thought that you would take all of them away from him.

First it was Riki. The young boy was always stuck by Jake's side. It was something about his hyung that he found cool, so he copied him most of the times. Whenever it was his style, or his phrases. He looked up at Jake.

When Riki met you, he found something in the way you spoke and moved so interesting. Your confident attitude as you talked louder than everyone else. And every single person in the room was waiting for your words.

He found you cool and started hanging out with you. Hanging out at the point of completely dumping Jake when it was just the three of you. Then the rest of his members followed, and in seconds you had become the centre of attention.

Jake didn't like that. He was supposed to be the funny and cool one. The person that everyone liked and looked up at. Now that person had changed to you, and it made him red in anger.

"Why you don't like her hyung? She is so fun to be around with. The other time I saw her, she-"

"I don't care." Jake cut off the maknae. Riki had sensed that something was wrong with his friend. This cold and miserable behaviour was extraordinary for him.

Every time you all hanged out together, Jake would leave when you entered. The honest person you are, you didn't let that slide. Giving a fake excuse, you exited the room to find Jake.

And there he was, in the main room, playing on his phone. Walking closer to him, you exclaimed. "What have I done to you?" Jake shrugged his shoulders.

"Nothing." He replied, not rising his gaze from his phone. You sat down next to him, finally gaining his attention. "If you want to say something, say it. Don't act like a chicken."

That was his last straw. Yours too, because after that you wouldn't even keep the formalities with him. No wave, or acting kind. Absolutely nothing to each other from now on.

And because of your stubbornness, fans noticed it. With too many evidence on their hands for the company to decline. Once, glaring at each other at awards shows. Then Jake hanging his head low when your group performed.

Yes, Jake is your rival. But he is stupid hot when cold.

PARK SUNGHOON:

None could even think that Park Sunghoon was a competitive person. He is introverted and shy. But don't let that guy's attitude fool you. Because he can be competitive. Especially when it comes to Jake.

You all know how much Sunghoon likes Jake. Not that he doesn't hang out with the rest, it's just that with Jake, he is always together. When you entered their practice room, Sunghoon and Jake sat together. If you saw Enhypen outside, Sunghoon and Jake walked together.

Your group debuted under the same company as Enhypen, resulting in your groups coming close quickly. After practice, Enhypen would stop by your room.

"Wanna play the mafia game?" One of your group members suggested, taking out her phone. You all nodded, while some cheers escaped from Jake. You giggled at the eager boy, finding him cute.

"Alright, who was the mafia?" Jay asked after the game was over. You and Jake looked at each other, before breaking into laughs.

"We won!" Jake stood up, laughing at the others. At first, Sunghoon found enjoyable his friend's joyful attitude. Till you stood up too, walking over to Jake. You both began cheering together, and Sunghoon's smile dropped.

"Best teammate!" You even mentioned clapping your hands with Jake's. Sunghoon tried to brush it off, but his face turned red when he heard his best friend's reply. "Agreed."

The next days, you and Jake had grown closer with each other. Instead of Sunghoon, Jake was talking with you all the time. And when you weren't there, he was talking about you to Sunghoon.

What spell had you done on Sunghoon's best friend? He was never jealous of someone. But when he saw you, his blood boiled. Your high-pitched voice alone could annoy him, frowning when he saw you with Jake.

Fans noticed it. Just because Sunghoon was an MC at Music Bank, so he couldn't avoid you. He tried his best to contain his poker face, yet at the sight of your smile, it turned into a disgusted one.

He would lie to himself if he said you weren't pretty or fun to be with. You might have even become friends if it wasn't for you to steal his. And your glares at him also didn't go unnoticed.

Yes, Sunghoon is your rival. But he is stupid hot when aggressive.

___________________

A/N: If anyone ships Jake and Sunghoon in my comments just bc of Sunghoon's scenario, he will be blocked.

© all rights reserved to me — i do not allow anyone to copy, translate, or republish my works. all my stories are purerly fictional.

[mattslolita]

bitch from da souf - c. sturniolo

black!fem reader x chris, backshots, oral ( fem receving )

do not interact if you're a minor!

"i throw that ass back to see if he gon catch it."

"hello everyone, today we're filming-"

"it's the deaf, mute, and blind baking challenge, period!" y/n grins at the camera, causing nick to glare at her playfully and slap her arm, "nick, what the fuck?"

"that was supposed to be my line," nick said, a fake annoyed tone, causing y/n to roll her eyes playfully.

"anyway!" matt begins, already sensing an oncoming play fight between the two best friends, "we need to decide who's what."

"i call deaf!" y/n grinned, holding her hand up as she looked at the three triplets, "i have the best music taste, let's not even lie."

"facts," nick agrees, pointing at y/n, "let's be mute together."

"you both just want an excuse to listen to music and not do shit," matt muses as he crosses his arms, causing y/n to nudge him playfully.

"you just mad cause you not gon be my deaf twin," y/n shrugs comically, causing matt and chris to roll their eyes.

"i guess i'll be mute then," chris says, and y/n snorts, causing him to glare at her, "what was that about?"

y/n just shrugged, a small smirk on her lips as she helped set up the ingredients. "it's just about time yo ass is finally gon be shut up."

matt's eyes go wide and nick holds back a laugh, whilst chris pokes his tongue inside his cheek and shakes his head at y/n, going to stand next to her as he bends down in her ear. "i can think of a million ways to shut you up, ma."

y/n cheeks heat up, giving chris's shoulder a smack as she gestures to the camera that was currently recording them — he just smirks and goes to get a blindfold while nick hands y/n a set of headphones.

y/n and nick grin at each other as the both of them have their headphones on, chris giving them a look as he's helping tie the blindfold around matt's eyes.

"OKAY, LET'S START!" y/n shouts, clapping her hands together, as she moves to lean on the counter next to chris, "yo matt, open this shit up!"

"oh my gosh, it's our song!" nick says to y/n excitedly, causing the girl's eyes to widen as she grins widely.

"oh bitch, period!" y/n says, beginning to dance as in the party by flo milli is playing in her ears, "yeah bitch i got yo man, since you bad hoe, come catch him if you can!"

matt taps on y/n shoulders as the girl begins dancing. "Y/N, HELP ME WITH THIS!"

y/n turns to matt with a grin, still dancing as she's trying to read his lips. "NO MATT, WE NOT COOKING FISH!"

chris shakes his head as he watches the girl, ultimately deciding to go and help matt once he sees matt throw his hands up in frustration.

"DICKS UP WHEN I STEP IN THE PARTY, YO MAIN DUDE WANNA FEEL ON MY BODY!" y/n and nick sing, dancing with each other, "AND IF I TAKE HIM BITCH, I WON'T SAY I'M SORRY!"

"i do what i want, don't report to nobody!" y/n sings, dancing next to chris, shooting the boy a grin as he's trying to help matt with the batter.

"nick, preheat the fucking oven!" matt yells at the oldest triplet, causing him to look at y/n in confusion as he's still singing.

y/n goes and playfully pushes chris to side, beginning to help matt with the batter. "MATT, I'M GONNA HELP YOU WITH THIS BATTER!"

"i've been telling you to do that for five fucking minutes!" matt yells back to her, and oblivious to his obvious annoyed tone, y/n just smiles at him and gives him a thumbs up.

y/n's eyes go wide as she points at nick again, a big grin taking over her face. "THIS IS MY SHIT, STOP PLAYING!"

"PERIOD!" nick yells, pointing back at y/n, as she starts dancing rather provacatively.

"i throw dat ass back to see if he gon catch it, ain't athletic but it's tennis for the necklace," y/n raps, swaying her hips back and forth.

chris suddenly stops what he's doing as he watches y/n glide her hips back and forth in the open space near the oven and sink, nick hyping her up as she does so — he's also ignored matt's pleas to help as all he can focus on is the way her ass moves up and down as she's dancing.

"ay where that cash at, i stack it like tetris!" she continues rapping, now seemingly in her own world as she continues dancing, "real gutter bitch, real plugs and connections."

chris still had his eyes on her, watching the way nick and her giggled as she continued dancing — she accidentally bumped into matt, causing the boy to groan and shake his head.

"SORRY, MATT!" y/n giggles, hugging the middle triplet then ruffling his hair, and he pushes her off of him causing her to roll her eyes.

"FIRST I MAKE HIM EAT IT TILL HE LOCK JAW," y/n continues rapping, throwing her hands up as she round the kitchen counter, "GIVE IT TO HIM GOOD, KNOCK A NIGGA SOCKS OFF!"

"i run it up, they busy runnin they mouth!" nick raps with y/n, hyping her up, as she goes back to where is, beginning to throw it back again.

"I'M A REAL ASS, RICH ASS, BITCH FROM THA SOUTH!" y/n raps, as she swaying whilst chris was next to her, the boy having had his breath caught in his throat.

chris was well aware that y/n and him were only best friends, but it was hard to look at her like that when since they had first met he'd get so sexually frustrated around her. of course, chris never knew that y/n had always found him attractive too, and would have to refrain from being around him sometimes due to this fact.

like right now, chris had the strong urge to just bend y/n over the kitchen table and fuck her from behind, making her scream his name — he shook his head to try and rid himself of these thoughts, going back to focusing trying to clean up the mess they made.

chris watched as y/n was still bopping her head to the song as she grabbed the tray away from matt, walking over to the oven — he watched the brownskin girl as she set the tray atop, then she bent over to open the oven.

he didn't even realize what he was doing until he reached y/n, gently taking her hips and pulling her ass to him in the hit it from behind motion.

"what the fuck- CHRIS!" y/n says, her eyes wide as she turns to look at him, shock evident on her face.

"couldn't help myself ma, with that ass shaking so pretty in front of me," chris whispers in her ear, pulling his bandana down slightly so she could hear him.

he gives her a wink and slips it back on, nick having watched the two with raised eyebrows. "great, now i have to edit that cause the fans will go crazy."

y/n felt her cheeks get hot at the action chris did, and the fact that he just walked away from her like he didn't just do that — the worst part was that she liked it, she wished he would've done more than that.

"FUCK!" nick yells, causing matt to throw his hands up in irritation, "WE FORGOT TO BUY FUCKING OVEN MITTS!"

"are you kidding me?" matt says angrily, taking his blindfold from off his eyes, looking at his brothers and best friend in shock, "who was in charge of that?"

the three brothers all turned towards y/n, who had finally looked up from where she had put the batch in, giving them confused expressions. "WHAT?"

"you forgot the buy the oven mitts!" matt says, throwing his hands up at her.

"shit, you said what, matt?" y/n asks with a sweet smile, taking the headphones off.

"you- just nevermind," matt sighs, running his hand along his face, motioning to nick, "nick, let's go and buy it real quick."

"fine, whatever," nick says with an eyeroll, taking the headphones off and pausing the music, "please don't do anything stupid while we're gone!"

"the fuck would we do?" y/n asks with a confused expression, and matt shoots her a look of amusement.

soon matt and nick are headed out the door, and y/n lets out a sigh — when she turns around, chris is standing right behind her, his usual smirk on his face as he looks down at the girl with hungry eyes. y/n's breath hitches in her throat at the way he's looking at her, causing her to back into the kitchen table.

"i was serious about what i said earlier, you know," chris says in a low rasp, putting both hands on the counter behind y/n, trapping her in between, "about knowing ways to shut you up."

"then why you ain't did it yet?" y/n challenges, feeling the pool already forming in between legs, as she almost lost balance.

"as much as i want to ma, i wanna have a taste of you instead," chris growls, his large hands going to grab the shorter girl and hoisting her onto the counter.

she immediately pulls him in by the neck and attaches her lips to his hungrily, both of them battling for dominance — chris pulls away slightly, his lips already red and swollen as he eyes the girl greedily, then he reattaches his lips to her neck, leaving sloppy kisses all over it.

he reaches down towards the waistband of her shorts, tugging at it as it snapped, causing a low gasp to escape her lips as she squeezes her brown thighs together. "fuck, i need you so bad."

"lean back mama, i'm gonna make you feel so good," chris whispers in her ear, pressing her stomach back.

y/n leans back and scoots back on the counter, giving him enough access to practically rip her shorts down from under her — he was immediately met with y/n's already glistening pussy, causing his cock to stiffen at the sight.

"look at you, not wearing any fuckin panties," he chuckles lowly, spreading her legs apart whilst keeping eye contact with her, "such a pretty pussy, ma."

"p-please, chris," y/n whimpers, "i need-"

without warning, chris dives in between y/n's legs, not wasting time in licking a stripe up her sensitive bundle of nerves, emitting a moan from the girl. he greedily latches his hands onto het thighs, pulling her closer to him as if she'll somehow slip from his grasp.

"fuck chris, that feels so good," y/n moans out, throwing her head back as her hands find themselves tangled into his brown locks.

he continues pleasuring her with his tongue, burying his face deep inside her pussy as he flicks his tongue on it every which way — y/n lets out moans, filling up the empty space of the kitchen.

"oh fuck, you taste so good," chris says breathlessly, pulling away, his face glistening in her juices.

he dives back in, reveling in the sweet taste of her, knowing that nobody could ever make her feel as good as he is in this moment.

"chris, i-i'm close," y/n moans out, her head still thrown back.

this causes him to finally take his face out of her pussy, a smirk on his face as he does so, which causes her to look at him in confusion. "w-why would you stop?"

"cause you're gonna cum on this cock, ma," chris said, "now bend that ass over."

y/n obliges, getting up from the counter and going to turn around — chris quickly pulls his pants down, his cock springing free and slapping against his stomach as it leaks with pre-cum.

he lines himself up with y/n, using her juices as lube as he strokes it once, causing a groan to escape his lips and a moan to slip out her mouth.

"just put in already!" y/n begs.

chris grins as he slowly pushes inside of her, a moan falling from both of their lips. "fuck, you're so tight."

chris begins to move in and out of her at a slow pace at first, the soft slapping of skin can be heard — y/n moans at the feeling of her best friend going in and out of her, having been waiting for this moment for forever.

chris quickly picks up his pace, now slamming into her from behind — y/n grips the kitchen counter in front of her, her breasts bouncing as he fucks into her.

"oh my gosh, fuck chris!" y/n whines out, as he goes to attach his lips to her neck, one of his hands going to cup her breast as the other stays on her waist.

"fuck ma, you feel so fucking good around my cock like this," chris pants out, squeezing her nipple in between his index and thumb fingers.

"i-i'm so close, baby," y/n moans out, throwing her head back, "i'm gonna cum..."

"cum on my cock ma, give it to me," chris rasps, still pounding into her from behind.

y/n releases her juices onto chris's cock, moaning his name as she does so — that's enough for chris too, as he shoots his loud out inside of her, moaning her name as he does.

he helps the both of them ride out their highs, then chris pulls out of y/n, both catching their breaths as the reality of what happened sets in.

"fuck, i've wanted to do that for so long," chris breathes out, helping y/n put her shorts back on.

"you ain't know how long i wanted you to," y/n giggles, looking up at chris, "is this gonna change shit between us?"

"nah," chris says, smiling down at the girl, pulling his pants up, "but let's just keep this between us, alright?"

"you right, matt gon throw a hissy fit if he ever found out," y/n laughed, grabbing some paper towels to clean up the space they occupied.

chris sent a smack to y/n's ass, causing her to gasp and turn to him with a playful glare. "didn't you touch my ass enough?"

"who says i ever got enough of it?" chris grins at her, licking his lips as he walks over to her and squeezes her ass.

"yeah, you definitely an ass dude."

@luverboychris , @mrssturnioloo , @mattsturniolosleftnut 💕 gfs ily

omgggg look who finally wrote some more smut !!😩😩😩 i got hella requests too, so im excited for y'all to read that too ! im so sorry not uploading any, i've lost a little motivation for it, but im tryna bounce back.💌

[pekoehoneyncream]

Ghoaptober # 4

Prompt: Home

Words: 3100~

TW: Phonetic Scottish Accents (sfw)

This version of Ghoaptober was created by @spadesandshovels

This one did not at all go in the direction I meant it to. I genuinely thought this one was gonna be short, that's my bad for thinking a MacTavish family reunion wouldn't be chaotic.

So a bit of Premise, I have a headcanon that Soap's actual name is Coinneach John MacTavish, but only his family calls him Coinneach.

Enjoy!

Ghost tried to steady his breathing as Johnny led him up to a picturesque country home, then around the side, under a few lines of drying laundry, to the backdoor. Johnny gave the door a cursory rap as he pushed it open, he’d barely gotten one foot over the threshold when delighted cries resounded. 

An older woman, maybe fifty years old, came into view as she hustled over to yank Johnny down into a hug. A smile lit Johnny’s face, the likes of which Ghost had never seen before. It was warm and relieved, happy and teary. It looked like Johnny had been told ‘It’s all okay’ and -for the first time- actually believed it. Johnny and his mother held each other for a long moment, each just breathing the other in. Through the door Ghost could see that the space behind them was crowding with people, all impatiently waiting to have their go at hugging the returned MacTavish. 

Mrs Mactavish pulled away, reaching up to clasp Johnny’s face between her hands, planting a long kiss on his forehead, then pulling back again to look him over, murmuring to him in Scots Gaelic. Something Ghost, thanks to Johnny, could now recognize.

Johnny had warned him that it was the primary language spoken under the MacTavish roof, in deference to Johnny’s Grannie, whose grasp of English isn’t the best. Ghost had been forbidden from worrying about it and Johnny had assured and reassured him that "Ma an’ all ae mah wee siblings speak English jus’ fine", so he was trying his best to obey and not stress out. 

Mrs MacTavish released Johnny, prompting even more people to crowd into the room to get at him and Ghost redoubled his efforts to not freak out. Wishing he hadn’t been so adamant in rebuffing Johnny when he’d said no one would care if Ghost wore his mask. Being able to hide behind his balaclava would be really nice right about now. 

“Ye mus’ be this Ghost fella mah Coinneach is always yammering abou’,” The voice piping up at Ghost’s elbow does not make him jump. Ghost is a highly trained Special Forces Operative, he would notice a middle-aged Scottish woman approaching him before she spoke. He Would.

“Oh! Ah’m sorrae, laddie. Didnae mean tae spook ye,” Mrs MacTavish apologises, “Come in, Come in, Donnae stan’ on the stoop like y’ur no' welcome.” 

Ghost finds himself ushered into what he discovers is the kitchen of the house. To his right was the kitchen proper, there was what Ghost could only guess was a genuine wood stove crouched directly in front of the door and guarding the threshold, it was in direct competition with the gas cooker pressed against the far wall, bracketed by counters covered in various appliances that looked like they'd hopped straight off the pages of a fifties home catalogue, but still seemed to be in good repair. Quaintly, the cupboards hanging over them were closed with curtains rather than doors. The only acquiescences to the modern era seemed to be the nice big fridge humming away like an afterthought at the end of the counters, and the washer tucked away in the corner. 

It was a nice kitchen, it looked homey, lived in.

To his left was a long oval table with an assortment of seats surrounding it. Ghost could pick out a few chairs with carvings the same as the ones on the table’s legs that could only be the matching set, but they were outnumbered by ones that had clearly been added as needed. He could also spot a leaning stack of metal folding chairs half tucked behind a hutch in the back, clearly the MacTavish house was well accustomed to crowds. 

Ghost was chivvied into one of the seats around the table, his Special Forces joints extremely grateful for the soft cushion padding the chair and guarding him from the ache of the hard wood. A glance at his table mates revealed whom the cushioning was truly intended for. A lady that must be around seventy sat to his right, and to her right, at the head of the table, sat a man in the same age range. The man was watching him. 

Ghost took an educated guess and presumed that these must be Johnny’s Grannie and Grandad. 

Fucking Hell.

Johnny never told him their names. 

He’d always just referred to them as Grannie and Grandad, so Ghost had always called them ‘your Grannie and Grandad’ when asking after them. He didn’t even know if they were MacTavishs. Thinking about it, they were probably Johnny’s mother’s parents.

Oh, Bloody Fucking Hell.

What the fuck was Mrs MacTavish’s first name. 

How the hell had he managed to have a panic attack over memorizing the names of Johnny’s five siblings and never have the thought cross his mind to learn the names of his mother and grandparents. Ghost is in their house, sitting at their table, and he doesn’t have a single clue what their names are.

What the fuck, Johnny. 

The awkward staring contest he’d been entered into by Johnny’s Grandad was only growing more and more uncomfortable. It’d be rude to look away without saying anything, but what the fuck was he supposed to say, ‘Sorry for barging into your home, Johnny demanded Simon Riley crawl out of the grave that Ghost left him in to come meet the extended MacTavish family’?

Johnny rescued him by coming over to the table, leaning down to accept his Grandad’s seated one-armed hug and back pats, then pressing kisses to his Grannie’s cheek as he passed by on his way to drape himself over the back of Ghost’s chair, because sitting in his own chair like a normal human eludes Johnny. 

He talked back and forth with his grandparents for a moment then turned to Ghost to make the least helpful introduction he has ever been forced to be a part of, “Ghost, this is mah Grannie and Grandad,” Then turning to his grandparents, “This is mah L.T, Ghost.” 

Johnny’s Grandad seemed well used to Johnny’s foibles and reached an arm across the table to shake Ghost’s hand and supplement with his own introductions, “Ah’m Amhlaigh Milne, an’ this is the missus, Fionna Milne,”   

Amhlaigh Milne’s hands were broad with liverspots speckling their backs, textured by hard calluses and soft wrinkling skin. His handshake was cursory and firm. He was a man that had shaken a thousand hands before and had no interest in adding pomp or frippery to the exchange.

“Simon Riley, sir, ma’am,” Ghost replied, nodding to Mr then Mrs Milne, “Thank you for having me in your home,” 

Mrs Milne said something to Johnny in Scots Gaelic, sounding almost despairing. Johnny cried a shocked ‘Seanmhair!’ and a wild barking laugh carvoted out of the kitchen, followed by a multitude of variations on the same. Mrs MacTavish had been puttering about the kitchen getting tea and nibbles together, and was now bracing against the counters to not fall off her feet laughing. The people that Ghost hadn’t been introduced to, but could only assume were Johnny’s siblings, were leaning against each other and various pieces of furniture as they fought to stay upright on knees weakened by their cackling. 

Well, it was good to see that Johnny came by it honestly. 

Mrs MacTavish pulled herself together enough to pick up the tea tray and bring it over without spilling, the occasional giggle rattling through the teaset before she made it to the table. 

“Ma says-,” Mrs MacTavish cut herself off, planting a hand on the table as a new wave of laughter wracked her, Johnny was hiding his face behind a hand, but the deep red of his ears betrayed his blush, “Ma says, it’s guid tha’ Coinneach is the firs’ ae her grankids tae bring ‘ome a fella, bu’ did ye have tae be a fuckin’ sassenach!” 

The last of the translation is squeaked out in between laughs, but Ghost thinks he’s gotten the jist. Mrs Milne was hoping her grandchildren would bring home partners that were Scots. 

Add her to the tally of people Ghost had lived to disappoint. 

“None of your siblings have had partners before?” Ghost turns his head to address the question to Johnny, getting some vindictive pleasure from the offended squawks coming from the peanut gallery of siblings milling about in the kitchen.

“Nae, they’ve ‘ad partners, bu’ all ae 'em 'ave been too feart tae bring ‘em fer a visit,” Now Johnny is the one laughing, and the greedy beast that weaves through Ghost’s ribs squeezes tight, viscerally glad to have been the one to cause it. 

A succession of offended noises comes charging out of the kitchen, followed by the siblings in question. 

“Oi!” barks a young man with Johnny’s mousey brown hair, Mrs MacTavish’s straight nose, and hazel green eyes that Ghost doesn’t recognise, “Ah’m nae feart!” The rest of his defense is in Scots Gaelic and therefore lost to Ghost, but by the gasps and laughter it triggers, it’s nothing good. 

“Artair!” Mrs MacTavish scolds, and Ghost assigns the name to the face on the internal profiles he’s been habitually building in his head for Johnny’s family, “Donnae say tha’ we’ve company!”

“He cannae understan-” Artair complains,

“Tha’ donnae matter. Artair MacTavish, ye’ll watch y’ur tongue or so help me Jesus, Ah’ll give ye a doin’!” Mrs MacTavish asserts, hands on her hips. Nodding sharply when Artair obediently subsides, “Noo, did ye wan’ a cuppa, Ghost?” She presents the full tea service to Ghost.

“Please, call me Simon, Mrs MacTavish,” Ghost almost begs of the woman, being addressed by his callsign by such a motherly figure is disconcerting in ways that Ghost refuses to analyze. 

“Simon i’ tis,” Mrs MacTavish easily agrees, and starts identifying the nibbles she's brought over, “These ‘ere are egg an’ cress pieces, bridies, butteries, tablet, an’ shor’ bread. Have y’ur pick ae the lot.” 

“Mo ciallian, did ye-” 

“Nae, Da. Ah didnae pu’ onions in the bridies,” Mrs MacTavish supplied before her father could finish his question.

“Guid lass. Pass us up a few, noo. There's a guid lad,” Mr Milne chivvies Johnny into popping a few on a plate for him, Ghost was fascinated to see Johnny automatically make up and pass along a cup of coffee too. His family had never had that kind of camaraderie. A sudden wave of despair welled up to drown him as the unwelcome thought that he had no idea how his mother used to take her tea and there was no one left that he could ask struck him.

Johnny gently squeezed at the nape of his neck, bending down to put their heads in line, so that he could mutter to Ghost what exactly was in all the snacks Mrs MacTavish had just offered him. If Ghost leaned into the contact, buoyed by Johnny’s presence, that was between him and the devil, thank you very much. 

Having clocked the identity of the coffee pot, Ghost got himself a tea from the teapot. Opening dishes until he found the milk powder, he mindlessly filled a mug with coffee for Johnny and slid it over along with the milk bowl, setting the dish back amongst the teaset when Johnny had taken what he wanted. The teapot was ensconced in a nicely knitted plaid tea cosy, a brief glance up at Johnny netted him a nod, and he studied the cosy with more interest. 

So this was the MacTavish… hmm.

Another glance to Johnny, with a tip of his head in Mr Milne’s direction. Another distracted nod from Johnny, one of his sisters was ranting to him about an incompetent chef. 

So this was the Milne tartan. 

A woman burst through the backdoor, a small dog following at her heels. Another ecstatic cry went up and the family rushed to welcome her home. Johnny had told him that this was the first time all the MacTavish children would be under the same roof in years, Johnny’s mother had been planning it for months. 

“Kennie!” the latest addition cheered, breaking free of the scrum to tackle Johnny in a hug, “How’ve ye been! Still ten, ten, an’ two?” 

Johnny threw his head back in a laugh, then held up his hands to wiggle his ten fingers at her, “Aye, ah’ve still go’ all mah bits, Maggie.” 

Ghost watched the crease of his eyes, the flash of his teeth, the jump of his chest. Glutting himself on Johnny’s happiness. 

“So ye finally brough’ us y’ur man,” Maggie nodded in Ghost’s direction, a released Johnny coming to perch at Ghost’s shoulder again. Memorizing her face Ghost updated his profiles, this must be Maighread, the youngest. 

“Aye, doin’ Ma proud, Ah am,” Johnny retorted, “Pickin’ up the slack ae allae youse,” 

“Oi,” Maighread barked with a laugh, bending to pick up the dog that had been standing on its hindlegs to paw at her thighs, “A’ leas’ ah’ve brough’ Ma her firs’ grankid,” 

“Aye, right.” Johnny conceded, reaching forward to give the dog a few pats, “An’ how’s wee Calum been farin’?” 

“He’s grand! Vet said he’s great joints for nine,” Maighread enthused, then gave Calum a smooch on the head and pressed him into Johnny’s arms, “ ‘ere, be a lad an’ hold him while I say hullo to ar seann-phàrantan,” 

Watching Johnny juggle a small grey dog and a hot mug of coffee twisted a smile onto Ghost’s face. 

“Calum?” He let the question stand on its own and was gratified by Johnny’s response.

“Aye, he’s Maggie’s wee lad. A mini schnauzer. She go’ ‘im off a breeder, he didnae qualify fer a showdog, so noo ‘e’s the first MacTavish grankid. Ma’s go’ ‘im in the albums an’ every’hing.” Hearing Johnny’s accent thickening with every second that he spent amongst his fellow Scots was captivating, “Maggie trea’s ‘im like ‘e’s her own bairn.”

Ghost is not legally obligated to confirm or deny whether he did or did not open a mental profile for Calum the nine year old miniature schnauzer. 

“Why’re you holding him?” Ghost asked,

“Dae ye wan’ tae?” Johnny asked in return. That hadn’t been why he’d asked, but he wasn’t going to say no. 

Ghost nodded and scooted back from the table to give Johnny room to set the warm armful of dog on his lap, carefully bringing his arm around to make sure Calum didn’t accidentally fall. 

Calum the miniature schnauzer snuffled at his face, his shirt, his hands, then seemed perfectly content to take a seat on his lap, propping his forepaws up on the table, like he truly was part of the family. 

“Aye, tha’s fine,” Johnny supplied at Ghost's questioning look, “Donnae le’ ‘im jump up or no’hing, bu’ it’s fine as long as ye wipe the table after ‘e gets doon.”

Ghost was then perfectly content to sit, drinking his tea and petting the dog weighing down his legs. Normally the hustle and bustle of the many people talking and swarming about the rooms would quickly become too much for Ghost and he would need to take a break or else risk disassociating or having a panic attack, but oddly he was feeling fine. 

With Johnny standing sentinel at his shoulder, his hip pressed against Ghost’s side, and his arm arm idly draped across the back of his chair, Ghost was able to feel secure where he was. In spite of the commotion and chatter around him. 

Eventually the whole MacTavish brood was sat to the table, including Calum, who had abandoned Ghost to curl up on Maighread’s lap as soon as his owner had sat down. With cuppas and plates of nibbles close to hand, the air thrummed with idle chatter. Everyone updating and catching up, sharing the newest gossip about people that the table’s occupants would never meet. Mr Milne clearing his throat muted the room, though the silence wasn’t the oppressive tension that Ghost’s father had loved to employ, rather it was more of a curious waiting. 

“Riley, ‘ave ye met,” Mr Milne cast a wide gesture out to encompass the entire room, grunting like he’d expected as much when Ghost replied with a quick ‘No, Sir’, and then proceeding to efficiently go around the table, putting names to faces.

“Mah oldes’ daugh’er, Oighrig.”

“Oh, jus' call me Effie, dear,” Mrs MacTavish interjected,  

“Oighrig’s oldes’, Iseabail,” Mr Milne spoke on, unphased, 

“Izzie,” The woman sat to Johnny’s left offered,

“Ye know Coinneach o’course,” Mr Milne didn’t miss a beat and Ghost got the feeling that this was routine for him,

“Folk ‘roun ‘ere call me Kennie,” Johnny grinned up at him, his chair leg-to-leg with Ghost’s, letting Johnny easily press up against Ghost’s left arm,

“Then the twins, Donella-”

“Nella,” Chirps the woman directly across from Ghost

“an' Eilionoir,”

“Ellie,” Spoke the identical woman sat to Donella’s right, 

“Artair,” The young man sat to the right of Eilionoir offered only a nod, “our younges’, Maighread,” Mr Milne indicated the woman sat to his own right,

“Call me Maggie,” She offered with a bright smile, 

“An’ Maighread’s Calum,” Mr Milne rounded out, giving the dogs ears a ruffle.

Ghost gave the table a nod, “It’s good to meet you all, thank you for having me,”

His thanks are immediately waved away, eight separate voices speaking their denials of any thanks being necessary. Ghost holds his hands up in surrender and sits back to sip his tea 

“So Ellie, did ye tell tha’ man wit’ the gormless ring idea tae get tae fuck?” Maighread’s question forces an aggravated sigh out of Eilionoir, and with that the conversation moves on. 

Ghost is happy to have the attention off him, but is even happier to revel in the line of heat that comes from Johnny pressed tight against his side. Planting a hand on Johnny's leg, Ghost silently urges him impossibly closer, appeased by the way Johnny immediately obliges him. Scooting half off his chair he pushes down on Ghost’s shoulder and tugs him around by the waist so Ghost's slumped back against Johnny’s chest. Perfectly aligned for Johnny to drop his head down to rest his chin on Ghost’s shoulder, the soft scratch of the shaved sides of his warhawk rasping over Ghost’s ear and rubbing intoxicatingly against his cheek. Ghost squeezes at the leg he hadn’t released and revels in the tight squeeze Johnny returns to him.   

No one at the table gives their new seating arrangement a second glance and Ghost allows himself to wholly relax. Dropping his weight back onto Johnny without any fear of falling. 

There aren’t words for the feeling that fills up Ghost’s chest. The closest might be devotion. A gluttonous loyalty, content to share only because it gains him ever more of Johnny, others drawing out sides of him Ghost can’t. A burning obsession that banks and surges with every moment, every glance, every touch that Johnny allows him. 

What else is he meant to feel for a man that brings him home.

Thank You For Reading!

So the idea I set out with was "Soap takes ghost home to meet the family, ghost gets a bit overwhelmed by the amount of people, and realises he’s treating soap like some absurd mix of a touch/worry stone and a therapy dog. Thereby realising that soap makes him feel safe, and that wherever soap is, is home to him." I don't know how that became 3000 words, but here we are.

For anyone curious here are my notes on the MacTavish family:

Amhlaigh Milne -Grandad Fionna Milne - Grannie 69yo Oighrig MacTavish - Mother 53yo Iseabail(lesbian, the devil's advocate, she likes to look like the reasonable one and sometimes she is, trained as a professional chef, Job: restaurant owner) 34yo +1yr Coinneach John, 33yo +2yrs Eilionoir(Poly, is used to sharing Donella's partner, is not attracted to Donella, thoughtful and assessing, judgemental, realist leaning pessimist, job: makes jewelry) Donella(Poly, is used to sharing Eilionoir's partner, is not attracted to Eilionoir, more outspoken, open-minded, optimist, Job: professional horse trainer,) 31yo +3yrs Artair(sarcastic, always has a comment, acts like the baby of the family, Job: broker, he gets a budget from his client to find a specific/rare item for them, he bids in auctions and stuff), 28/yo +1yr Maighread(is the baby of the family, no one asks Maggie to do anything she doesnt want to, kind, warm, obliging, but not selfless or overly giving, Job: house sitter). 27/yo

Eilionoir and Donella live together and have four cats, all of which used to be stray cats. Their names are Sir Gawain, Darcy, Croissant, and Soot.

A photo of Calum to make it fair.

PekoeHoneynCream's Masterlist

[artzychic27]

I was bored a while back and made the MLB characters using the Black OC maker on Picrew

Marinette: Proud to be Blasian, still tense when she gets weird looks/Dyed her hair because she wanted to be Coraline for Halloween, now she just likes the color

Adrien: Black mom, white dad, identity crisis/Gabriel’s still a dick and wants Adrien to be a “Good Black.”/Usually always on the receiving end of light skin jokes

Alya: The same, just with bigger hair/The Queen of Hoop Earrings/One TikTok account for general stuff, the other just to post videos of her and her friends dancing and stepping

Nino: Undoing Gabriel’s influence on his bro and helping him embrace his blackness/You did NOT hear him listening to Robin Thicke/Starts every Shabooya Roll Call

Chloé: Bad and bougie/Identity crisis on a count of she was adopted as a baby to make her white parents look good/Will only let Marc and Juleka style her hair

Sabrina: Only knows English because she listens to Megan Thee Stallion religiously/Scarily good at break dancing

Juleka: So goth, she was born black/Favorite movies in order: Get Out, Candyman, The Blackening, Us, Karen, and Ma/A pro at doing hair

Rose: Will punt you if you make a “Not Black enough” comment/Not fond of how hospitals treat black patients. She’s had first-hand experience, and it wasn’t great/Excited for the Tiana series

Luka: Doesn’t say much, but when he does, it’s insightful as hell/He can’t see, but it adds to the mystery, so he keeps his hair like that/Imagine Johan from Black-ish

Nathaniel: Black Panther, Storm, Spider Man, Cyborg, Vixen, Bumble Bee, and Static Shock comics lining his shelves/The definition of Blerd/Surprisingly good at stepping

Alix: “Scar twins!” “But your scar is-“ “Shut up! Scar twins!”/Classroom solidarity by shielding her from others when her hijab slips off/She and Nath tag the city by putting stickers with images of historical women of color everywhere

Marc: He’s the one braiding his classmates’ hair/Hates how black people are written in most shows and movies/Scarily good at rapping. Do NOT try to challenge him to a rap battle, you will be humiliated

Kim: Always swimming, so he constantly has his hair braided or in twists/“Yes, I’m black and I can swim.”/Worships Beyoncé in his spare time

Max: The same, but with vitiligo and a fancy tie/Not selling the patents for any of his inventions. He’s not risking any companies purposely leaving out that he’s the brilliant mind behind any of them

Lila: She will never lie about Oprah. That’s where she crosses the line/Competing for Alya's title as Queen of Hoop Earrings

Ivan: You know those videos where the white baby leans over to see what the black guy is watching on his phone and then holds his hand? He’s the black guy/Worried about looking too "threatening"

Myléne: Constantly promoting black-owned businesses on her socials/Most likely to lead a protest/HATES Rachel Dolezal… Actually, they all hate her

[aheathen-conceivably]

In the first weeks of 1930, a slow passenger train rode through the desert hills of New Mexico. It had begun its journey in the city of New Orleans before heading north alongside the snaking brown waters of the Mississippi River.

From there it had stopped in St. Louis, Missouri before it turned back south, following old pioneer trails as it cut through the American Southwest on the way to its final destination in Los Angeles, California.

In one of the cars, the light, determined click of a woman's heels fell in line with the rhythm of the rails below her feet. The sound had defined her life for weeks, yet she found it just as droning now as the day she had first boarded the train. She made her way from her own cabin, where her niece and brother were spending the final hour of their journey, to the room where her soon to be sister-in-law was readying herself. 

As she approached the door a rail attendant appeared in the car to alert the passengers, “Next stop Strangerville, New Mexico! All passengers ready your luggage! I repeat all passengers ready your luggage!”

Josephine increased her pace and rapped loudly on the door, wanting to ensure that her arrival could be heard above the railway attendant's call in the next car. A small voice told her to enter, barely audible alongside the thundering sound from below.

Josephine entered Zelda and Antoine's suite, which was larger than the one she had shared with Violette during the journey. Half smoked cigarettes and thrice-read books clattered against opulently carved woodwork bolted to the walls. Amidst it all stood Zelda in a white silk wedding dress, preoccupied with her reflection as she pinned a final curl in a perfect curve.

For a moment Josephine forgot the rail’s droning sound or the conductor’s hurried call, “Zelda, you….you look marvelous.”

Zelda turned briefly to acknowledge Jo’s presence, self consciously smoothing down the silk of her dress before she turned back to the mirror to fiddle with the clasp of her pearls, “Do I, truly? I’m afraid it’s quite old fashioned now, isn’t it? I suppose I should have gotten something new rather than just dyeing this old dress…”

Josephine walked over to her, taking the pearls from her shaking hands. As the car rattled on, she couldn’t tell if it was from the constant movement or her friend’s nerves. She spoke to her as she fastened the necklace, “It’s perfect, ma sœur, absolutely perfect. Are you ready? It’s time to put the luggage near the door; we’re the next stop.”

When Zelda didn’t answer Josephine turned her around, softening her face and her voice, “Zelda, you can talk to me, if you need to. Whatever it is. If you aren’t ready I’ll speak with Antoine. Whatever you need.”

Zelda looked at her curiously before an immense happiness overtook her face. She grabbed Josephine’s hands and smiled, “Jo, I’m only nervous because I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life. I’ve waited so long; we’ve waiting so long, it simply feels surreal. Like it’s impossible to feel so much happiness all at once without something going wrong.”

Josephine’s heart soared for her, and then sank as she realized that Zelda had learned to expect misfortune so much that she couldn’t even truly give herself over to excitement in that moment. “Zelda, everything will be wonderful, I promise you. You’ve been through enough, okay? Both of you. Today will be perfect.”

(A very special thank you to @simtleman for creating this gorgeous train build and then sharing it with me as well as all the CC creators you used to make it so stunning ♥️)

[sunshyni]

About Sun's Galaxy 𝐒𝐭✰𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Meu nome é Gabriele, mas prefiro Gabi. Esse solzinho tímido nasceu no dia 24/08/2004. Me considero multifandom, mas sou apaixonada mesmo pelo NCT.

🌞Por que “Sunshyni”?

Essa conta existe há algum tempo, mas comecei a usá-la para a escrita em Julho de 2023, inspirada por algumas escritoras como a @ncdreaming, @mealcandy, @moonlezn e @imninahchan.

Na verdade, era para ser “Sunshine”, mas o Tumblr não deixou e fui obrigada a pensar nesse trocadilho. Como pode algo, nesse caso, alguém, irradiar luz e simultaneamente ser tão retraída? Prazer! Essa sou eu!🌻

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

🌞Neo Got Sun's Back

Tudo começou em 2021, conheci os solos do Ten (“New Heroes” e “Paint Me Naked”) e fiquei obcecada, depois Wayv, depois redescobri músicas do 127 nas quais eu era viciada (“Regular english ver” estava no topo), por fim, finalmente, Dream (Os garotinhos do MV de “My First and Last” que eu assisti no auge dos 13 anos. Spoiler: naquela época me apaixonei pelo garotinho da rap line do cabelo ondulado. Spoiler²: nasci para ser uma Mark girl).

Por algum tempo minha unit fav foi o Wayv, mas isso mudou quando estava no finalzinho do ensino médio e percebi que me identificava, me identifico melhor com o Dream. Mas meu coração é grande e cabe todo mundo!

🌞BÔNUS¹: Minha melhor amiga is @dreamwithlost, sou maluquinha por ela desde o fundamental 🤗

🌞BÔNUS²: Membro do NCT que você se daria melhor

ONE AND ONLY JOHNNY SUH! Não sei, alguma coisa me diz que a gente seria muito amigos e eu queria compartilhar isso com vocês, faz parte da minha personalidade KKKK

[tatatmic]

:･ﾟ✩ 2 COOL 4 SKOOL ✩:･ﾟ✩

; Intro: 2 Cool 4 Skool ;

@/sckool24 (mess sorry)

; We Are Bulletproof pt. 2 ;

@/bullertproof / bulletrproof

@/bulletwoof (bullet + part [two] + pro[of]) (mess sorry)

@/arwbullet / arwebullet ([we] [ar]e [bullet]proof) (mess sorry)

; Skit: Circle Room Talk ;

@/circleskit / skitcircle

; No More Dream ;

@/nodreamvs (no more dream + mvs)

@/not7dream ([no] more dream + ot7) (mess sorry)

@/nmrdream / nwmrdream

@/nmoredrm

@/nomrdream

; Interlude ;

@/isnterlude

@/inrterlude

@/interluwde

@/intterslude

@/interludette (mess sorry lol)

; I Like It ; (mess sorry)

@/ilikeitmp3

@/ilikeitsus

; Outro: Circle Room Cypher ;

@/outrozcypher

@/outrocyphier

@/cyphercle (cypher + circle) (mess sorry)

@/outrot7

@/cypherseus

; Skit: On The Start Line ;

@/onthwstart

@/startwline

@/skitwline

; Path / Road ;

@/pathdeus / pathseus

@/roadmp3

@/pathscene (+ beyond the [scene])

✩:･ﾟ✩ O!RUL8,2? ✩:･ﾟ✩

; Intro: O!RUL8,2? ;

@/ohreulate / ohrulate (oh a[re] yo[u] late) (mess sorry)

@/introulate (intro + yo[u] late)

; N.O ;

@/lyricswno (lyrics + no)

@/nowmvs (no + mvs)

; We On ;

@/weonmv / weonmvs

@/weondeus / weonseus

; Skit: R U Happy Now? ;

@/skitnow

@/skitrhappy

; If I Ruled the World ;

@/ruIedworId (LL = ii)

; Coffee ;

@/coffeendless

@/coffeelled

@/coffeernate

@/coffeejours

; BTS Cypher Pt. 1 ;

@/cypherwone

; Attack on Bangtan / The Rise of Bangtan ;

@/bngttanck

@/bngtnrise

@/attackboys

; Satoori Rap ;

@/satoorism

@/uttsatoori

@/sawtoori

@/raptoori

; Outro: Luv In Skool ;

@/luvsnkool

@/luvnoutro

@/skoolutro / skooutrol / skooutro

@/luvrskool

✩:･ﾟ✩ Skool Luv Affair ✩:･ﾟ✩

; Intro: Skool Luv Affair ;

@/skooluvffair

@/skoolffair

@/Iuvffair (L = i)

; Boy In Luv ;

@/tboynluv ([tb]h + b[oy] i[n] luv)

@/boynrluv

@/boynzluv

; Skit: Soulmate ;

@/soulwmate

@/joursmate (toujours = always + soulmate)

@/sourlmate

; Where Did You Come From? ;

@/whrdid (mess sorry)

; Just One Day ;

@/tbharuman

@/justhrday (just + hr= haru + day)

@/haruseus

; Tomorrow ;

@/tomorroiw

@/tomowrro

@/tomosrrow

; BTS Cypher Pt. 2: Triptych ;

@/tripcypher

@/triptyrch

@/utlcypher

; Spine Breaker ;

@/spinerbrkr

@/breakspiner

; Jump ;

@/jumpseus

@/jumpstwt / jumptwts

; Outro: Propose ;

@/outropose

@/prowpose

@/missrighrt

@/itslowjam (i like it (slow jam remix)

✩:･ﾟ✩ DARK & WILD ✩:･ﾟ✩

@/darkvwild

@/darkwildsus

; Intro: What am I to You? ;

@/introwhat

; Danger ;

@/offciaIdanger (L = i)

@/featdanger

@/lyricsdanger

; War of Hormone ;

@/kthormone (mess sorry)

@/warfhrmne

@/hormowne

; Hip Hop Lover ;

@/hhplover

; Let me Know ;

@/letmrknow

; Rain ;

@/rainhoutte (+ silhouette) (mess sorry)

@/trailerain

@/rainfelts

; BTS Cypher Pt. 3: Killer ;

@/killwrcypher

@/partkiller

@/cypthkiller

; Interlude: What Are You Doing? ;

@/whtrdoing

@/whaterlude / whterlude

; Would You Turn Off Your Cellphone? / Can You Turn Off Your Phone? ; [mess sorry]

@/wldturn

@/wldphone

; Blanket Kick ;

@/blantkick

@/blanketmp3

@/blankthicc (mess sorry lol)

; 24/7 = Heaven ;

@/heavendless

; Look Here ;

@/lookzhere

; 2nd Grade ;

@/twndgrade ([tw]o + nd + grade)

; Outro: Does That Make Sense? ;

@/outrosznse (outro + sense)

@/outrodoes

✩:･ﾟ✩ The Most Beautiful Moment in Life, Part 1 ✩:･ﾟ✩

; Intro: The Most Beautiful Moment in Life ;

@/themostiful (mess sorry)

; I Need U ;

@/ineedsus

@/ineedusz

; Hold me Tight ;

@/holdmrtight

; Skit: Expectation! ;

@/expecttion

@/exrpectation

; Dope ;

@/dopethyst

@/dopensfw

; Boyz With Fun ;

@/boyszwfun

@/boyzwrfun

; Converse High ;

@/convrsrhigh

@/lyricsnverse (+ lyrics) (mess sorry)

; Moving On ;

@/movingwon

; Outro: Love is Not Over ;

@/outrosnlove

@/loutrover (mess sorry)

✩:･ﾟ✩ The Most Beautiful Moment in Life, Part 2 ✩:･ﾟ✩

; Intro: Never Mind ;

@/nvrwmind / nevrwmind

; Run ;

@/offcialrun

; Butterfly ;

@/buterlyrics

@/bwrtterfly

; Whalien 52 ;

@/wharlien52

; Ma City ;

@/mawrcity

@/ilysmacity (mess sorry lol)

; Silver Spoon ;

@/baespoon

@/silverspoorn

; Skit: One Night in a Strange City ;

@/nightwcity

@/skitnight

; Autumn Leaves ;

@/autmnrleaves

@/tmnleaves

; Outro: House of Cards ;

@/outrorcards

@/housecrds

✩:･ﾟ✩ The Most Beautiful Moment in Life: Young Forever ✩:･ﾟ✩

; Fire ;

@/offcialfire

@/fireffct / fireffcts (+ effects)

; Save Me ;

@/lyricsavem / lyricsavme

; Epilogue: Young Forever ;

@/ywngforever

@/epiloguewl

✩:･ﾟ✩ Wings ✩:･ﾟ✩

@/uttwings

@/articwings

; Intro: Boy Meets Evil ;

@/introboysz

@/boysmeetvil

; Blood Sweat & Tears ;

@/bloodwtears

@/bldswtears

@/bldsweatrs

@/bwtears

; Begin ;

@/beginseus

@/bewgins

; Lie ;

@/liedosed

@/outroslie

; Stigma ;

@/soultigma (neo [soul] + stigma)

@/stigmacist (+ supremacist)

; First Love ;

@/firstflove

@/firstdlove

; Reflection ;

@/reflwcttion

@/joonflection

; Mama ;

@/mamalogist (mess sorry)

@/mamajours (+ toujours = always)

; Awake ;

@/awakeffct / awakeffcts (+ effects)

@/awakedeus

; Lost ;

@/lostmvs

@/lostjours (lost + toujours = always)

; BTS Cypher 4 ;

@/cyphefour (mess sorry)

; Am I Wrong? ;

@/featwrong

; 21st Century Girls ;

@/centwrygrls

; Two! Three! (Still Wishing There Will be Better Days) ;

@/betterzdays

@/bttrwdays

; Interlude: Wings ;

@/interlwings

@/intterwings

✩:･ﾟ✩ Wings: You Never Walk Alone ✩:･ﾟ✩

; Spring Day ;

@/sprngdwy

@/springdaiz

@/springcday

; Not Today ;

@/nowttoday

@/nosttoday

@/snwttoday (mess sorry)

; Outro: Wings ;

@/outrownsg

@/featwings

@/outroftwings

; A Supplementary Story: You Never Walk Alone ;

@/trilogynwa

@/lullabynwa

@/frostynwa

[butvega]

vega meu bem você faria a saga de liberar o dorm pra uma rapidinha com os bts? sei que seus pedidos não estão abertos nem nada então não precisa ser agora

te adoro gatinha <3

BTS tentando liberar o dormitório para "dar umazinha".

`☆ seokjin:

Jin não queria admitir para seus membros, e companheiros que estava namorando. Mas a pressão da empresa sob a relação era tanta, que o local mais seguro para se encontrarem acabou sendo o dormitório. Durante a madrugada, ele levaria você para o dormitório.

Explicaria toda a situação, e iriam na ponta dos pés para o quarto dele. Transariam por horas a fio, matando toda a saudade, mas tentando manter o silêncio, e o máximo de descrição.

Obviamente, não daria certo, já que no dia seguinte o primeiro comentário em tom zombeteiro sairia da boca de Jimin:

— Hyung, por um acaso você teve dor de barriga a noite? Escutei uma gemeção danada.

`☆ yoongi:

Era mais como um aviso mortal. Não irritar, e não incomodar Yoongi enquanto ele estivesse com você. Faria questão de expulsar todos do dormitório, até mesmo Jin, que daria uma bronca daquelas nele pela falta de respeito. Mas ele não se importaria. Se sentia exausto, esgotado, e a única coisa que Yoongi realmente queria naquele fim de dia era ficar deitado com você, te fazendo dele da forma mais lenta e prazerosa o possível.

Os meninos teriam saído para comer, e Yoongi ficado em casa contigo, a namorada. Te penetrando de ladinho na cama, devagar, bem lentinho e preguiçoso, murmurando o quão feliz ele estava por estar ali naquele momento com você.

— Linda... Quero ficar pra sempre aqui contigo.

`☆ hoseok:

Não parece, mas Hoseok morreria de vergonha. Ele puxaria a maknae line pra um canto, e como hyung deles, faria com que eles tirassem todos os outros do dormitório para ele. Enfim, sem mais explicações. "Mas por quê? Quer fazer o quê?" Não interessava. Poderia ser até um retiro espiritual, um dia pra ele ficar peladão sozinho, que seja. Mas no caso, era para passar o dia com você apenas sendo namorados.

O sexo foi um bônus, um plus. No sofá, na cama, no chuveiro, um belíssimo e delicioso plus. Tiraram o atraso, e enfim quando os garotos voltaram, Hoseok já havia ido levar você em casa. Continuava em segredo.

`☆ namjoon:

Kim Namjoon era um depravado. Ter você como namorada, e não poder possuí-la à todo momento era um castigo. Eis que surge a ideia de se reunir com a rap line, e pedir o estúdio por uma noite. Apenas uma noite.

Os meninos, complacentes com o amigo, toparam. Namjoon a levou para o estúdio, onde ele mostrou um pouco de seus trabalhos, de suas letras — muitas inspiradas em você, e a tomou para si em todos os cantos possíveis dali.

`☆ jimin:

Para Jimin, como um bom libriano, a vida não é um tabu. Yoongi, seu hyung favorito, o veria passando com guloseimas, rosas, incensos... Não se intrometeria. Mas é claro que, como um bom membro mais novo, Jimin avisaria que iria levar uma garota; você.

Se conheceram em um programa ao vivo, e se encantaram de primeira. Estariam ficando há um tempo, já teria rolado, mas ele iria querer ter contigo uma noite tranquila, de filme, e sexo romântico e lento.

— Não conta pro Hobi Hyung não, por favor. Ele vai encher o saco me zoando.

Seria uma noite realmente romântica e tranquila. Assistiriam milhares de filmes, dormiriam juntinhos, e transariam o máximo que conseguissem — sem fazer barulho, é claro, para não atrapalhar seus colegas de grupo.

`☆ taehyung:

Taehyung nunca fora um rapaz de externar seus sentimentos. Ele havia conhecido você em um desfile de uma marca em que era embaixadora, assim como ele. Passaram a noite conversando, bebendo, e houve uma ligação fora do normal, daquele tipo que só se tem uma vez na vida. V não deixaria aquele momento passar, e como estavam na Coréia, ele fez questão de ceder um lugar para que o romance continuasse. Ligou imediatamente para Jimin, afim de saber se o dormitório dos rapazes estava liberado. Com o aval, correu com você para lá, podendo ter a tão sonhada noite com você.

Contra a parede, Taehyung a pressionava, penetrando incessantemente. Ao menos esperou chegaram no quarto, tão avassaladora era a vontade. Aproveitou a noite como há muito tempo não podia aproveitar.

`☆ jungkook:

A cabecinha de Jungkook está na porta do quarto de Namjoon, os olhinhos pidões arregalados o observando folhear algumas partituras. Namjoon o percebe, é claro, mas tenta ignorá-lo. Ele tem o entendimento de que ignorar Jungkook é quase impossível, mas mesmo assim tenta.

Jungkook entra no quarto como quem não quer nada, logo está sentado ao lado de RM.

— Fala logo o quê você vai pedir. — Namjoon ao menos tira os olhos do trabalho.

— Sabe o quê é, Hyung, eu queria pedir o dormitório só 'pra mim por uma noite. — Namjoon finalmente para de folhear, e passa a observá-lo. — É que tem uma garota...

— Ih...

— E eu 'tô gostando dela... E eu queria trazer ela pra cá, pra a gente ficar um pouquinho. Pô, Hyung, tem maior tempão que eu não fico com ninguém, e eu tô morrendo de vontade, porque eu tô gostando tanto dela.

Namjoon suspira. Gosta do fato de Jungkook ter sido sincero, e ido até ele pra pedir aquele favor. Jungkook cresceu naquele meio, sem muito tempo de ser um jovem normal, se apaixonar... Por isso quebraria aquela pra ele.

— Tá, só não conta pra ninguém. Amanhã vou segurar o pessoal no estúdio até mais tarde, grava sua parte primeiro e eu te libero. Fechado?

Jungkook se sentia no céu. A beijava com volúpia, a bagunçando por inteira, enquanto segurava seu quadril para movimentar-te de baixo para cima. Você quicava no colo do maior, o apertava internamente a cada descida. Tão duro, tão cru. Céus, Jungkook não poderia se sentir melhor. Estava com sua garoto, no dormitório só para si.

[chrissturnsfav]

𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐑!𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐗 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

headcannons of what rapper!chris is like as singer!reader’s boyfriend.

ᰔᩚ mentions of sex, drugs, and alcohol, rapper!chris x singer!reader

rapper!chris who is known in the industry for his natural flow, the amount of money he makes, having the best drugs, and his style. many big rappers in the industry are eager to work with him because of how good his verses are.

rapper!chris who's stage name is 'chri$.'

rapper!chris who is very possessive. he sees someone simply just checking you out? they'll be taken care of with his fists.

rapper!chris who lets you know who is in control when you catch an attitude. he's quick to remind you who you belong to—"whoa, y'talkin' t'me like that? yeah, nah...watch your mouth ma, remember who takes care of you."

rapper!chris who has a slightly douchy demeanor on the outside, but deep down is a nice and silly person who has a soft spot for you and his family.

rapper!chris who definitely has a goofy side in contrast with his slightly mean personality. he's very loving, always making time to wave at fans or sign autographs when he's out. he wants to make sure his fans feel appreciated by him.

rapper!chris who would never allow you to try any of the drugs he does. if you were to ever ask him if you could try while he's snorting lines at a club next to you, he'd be like: "what? nah...you must be trippin.' ain't happenin'. ever, 'n you know that."

rapper!chris who focuses mainly on music, his brand, and his youtube channel with his brothers.

rapper!chris who's always talking about you in his songs. they range from lewd verses to even some soft ones where he talks about your laugh, your pretty face, etc.

rapper!chris who is rough when it comes to sex. his favorite position is doggy—of course, he loves watching your ass bounce back onto his cock. he loves to praise you and throw in a few degrading phrases if you've been bratty. "atta girl, yeah, jus' like that," "this what y'needed? needed t'be fucked like a slut t'get your attitude in check, huh?" "good girl, look at you, pretty lil' fucked out face all f'me."

rapper!chris who is always touching you, whether it be his hand on your thigh in the car, idly playing with your hair, holding your hand—anything he does with you, his hands always find their way to you somehow. his love language is definitely physical touch.

rapper!chris who always watches your alcohol intake when you guys go out. he makes sure no guys are in your proximity while also making sure you don't get sloppy—he wants you to save that for only him to see later in the night.

rapper!chris who listens to your music the second you let him listen and he always gives his brutally honest input without being too harsh. "s'good, ma. could throw a few more verses in there instead of repeatin' y'self." "so pretty, love hearin' you sing, sound like a fuckin' angel." "damn, was that one 'bout me?"

rapper!chris who makes sure you're always the first to listen to a new song he records and immediately wants your input on it. if you tell him you don't like a verse, he'll change it asap only for you.

rapper!chris who loves the contrast between you two. your girly demeanor and soft spoken music contrasting with his hard, fiery rap music just turns him on.

rapper!chris who always makes sure you have what you need. he'll give you stacks of money randomly, buy you extravagant gifts for no reason etc. he'll also absolutely never let you pay for a single thing, and when you profusely thank him with a giant sweet smile, he'll say, "yeah, yeah, only do it cause i love seein' my girl's pretty smile. y'like it, ma? yeah, knew ya would."

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: just some headcannons to give everyone a glimpse of rapper!chris

thank you for reading!! <3

@chrissturnsfav ™

[letmehavemyfictionalmen]

Stars Collide; Stars Crossed: chapter II

Summary: Din and his partner fight as one, their expertise unrivaled as they battle the Imperial agents. Their unwavering determination to protect the Child drives them forward, overcoming every obstacle with fierce resolve.

pairing: Din Djarin x afab!Skywalker!reader

warning: 18+ content, Eventual smut, Unprotected sex, Violence, Blood, Age-Gap, Kidnapping, Domestic Bliss, Fluff, a sprinkle of Angst, Idiots in love, Flirting, possessive!Din, powerful!reader, Jedi!reader, Grogu being adorable, Grogu loves his Ma more than his buir.

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Your footsteps echo with purpose as you and the Mandalorian approach the entrance of the hidden Imperial base. Beeb remains vigilant as he trails behind, his sharp sensors scanning for any signs of danger.

The air is charged with a heavy silence, and your heart is heavy with the weight of the task at hand. But you stand firm, for the Child's life is on the line, and you will not be swayed from your mission.

Your weapon feels heavy in your hand as you draw closer to the entrance, your muscles coiled with anticipation. Every step forward is a step closer to danger, but you press on with unyielding resolve.

With unwavering determination, you take each step forward, ready to confront any obstacles that may cross your path.

The entrance looms ahead, and the Mandalorian signals you to halt with a subtle hand gesture. His hands hovering over his blaster, ready to draw and shoot his eyes scanning the surroundings for any hint of danger. With a quiet motion, the Mandalorian signals for Beeb to flank to the side. Your droid moves with fluid grace, scanning the entrance for any traps or alarms with swift efficiency.

The silence is absolute, except for the soft hum of Beeb's scanners, as he moves with the stealth of a shadow. You watch with admiration as Beeb completes his task, a testament to the Mandalorian's tactical prowess.

Beeb's signal of safety prompts a nod from the Mandalorian, and you advance, taking positions on the left side of the entrance. The gravity of the mission weighs heavy on your mind, but you cast aside the distractions, concentrating solely on the objective.

Before you, the Mandalorian stands tall and unwavering, poised in front of the imposing entrance to the hidden Imperial base. His gloved hand slowly rises, rapping against the cold, unyielding metal of the door.

A scanner pops out to scan the surroundings, and without hesitation, the Mandalorian rips it apart with swift precision. The display of raw power and skill leaves you in awe, your admiration for his abilities growing stronger with each passing moment. The Mandalorian's hand clasps yours, and you two round the corner, pulling you to safety just in the nick of time. With a silent gesture, you signal Beeb to follow, and the three of you huddle in the shadows as two stormtroopers march out of the Imperial base, oblivious to your presence.

"Check the Perimeter." The Stormtrooper commands his partner trooper with authority.

With the troopers distracted, you give a subtle nod to the Mandalorian, silently communicating your plan. Your heart races with anticipation as you move with stealth, slipping into the shadows to flank the enemy. The element of surprise is on your side, and you are determined to use it to your advantage.

Your dual-phase lightsaber hums softly as you glide through the shadows, your movements a graceful dance in the darkness. The troopers remain unaware of your approach, their focus on the task at hand.

With the Force as your ally, you are like a phantom, slipping behind the troopers with ease. Your lightsaber ignites with a brilliant flash of green, its vibrant energy casting a glow across the scene.

The trooper stiffens at the sight of you, but it's too late. You move with the swiftness of a predator, your movements fluid and precise. You close the distance between you and the trooper with a single leap, your blade leading the way.

As your blade arcs through the air, the trooper raises his weapon in a futile attempt at defense. But it's no use. Your skill as a Jedi Knight surpasses his training as a mere stormtrooper, and your blade slices through his armor as if it were paper.

The trooper falls to the ground with a dull thud, his armor clanging against the metal floor. You don't pause to admire your handiwork, instead spinning on your heel to face the next target. Your senses are heightened by the Force, allowing you to anticipate the trooper's movements before he even makes them.

You dart forward with a grace that belies your deadly intent, your blade flashing in the dim light. The trooper tries to dodge, but he's too slow. Your blade connects with his armor, sending sparks flying in every direction.

In the end, the result is the same. The trooper falls, defeated, his armor no match for your skill.

The second trooper turns to face you, his own blaster raised in defense. But you are too quick for him, and you deflect his shots with ease, each bolt redirected back toward its source. The rhythmic hum of your lightsaber echoes through the silent area, a menacing sound that fills the trooper with dread.

With each deflection, you move closer to the trooper, his fear evident in his stance. Your blade dances through the air, striking fear into the trooper's heart as he desperately tries to fend off your assault.

In a moment of desperation, the trooper lunges forward, his blaster raised high. But you are a master of combat, and you easily sidestep his clumsy attack. In one fluid motion, you deliver a powerful strike that sends the trooper reeling, his weapon clattering to the ground.

Despite his defeat, the trooper does not relent, and he continues to fight with a fierce determination. But you are the embodiment of grace and skill, and you dance around his attacks with ease, your lightsaber flashing through the air like a deadly bolt of lightning.

In a final flourish of movement, you close in on the trooper and strike him down, your blade finding its mark with deadly accuracy. The trooper falls to the ground, defeated and broken. The fight is over, and you stand victorious, your heart racing with the thrill of battle.

The thud of the troopers hitting the ground reverberates through the air, and you stand still for a moment, catching your breath and calming your racing heart. But you know that time is of the essence, and you can't afford to be complacent.

With swift, calculated movements, you scan the area for any signs of alarm, making sure that your presence remains undetected. Once you're satisfied that the coast is clear, you nod to the Mandalorian, silently signaling that it's time to move forward.

You lead the way, moving with the agility and grace of a Jedi Knight. Each step you take is precise, each movement calculated as you navigate the unfamiliar terrain. The Mandalorian follows in your wake, his senses sharpened and alert to any potential threats. With a swift motion, a hinged panel opens on his side revealing the weapon, and the crackling energy dances along its length. The sight of it fills you with relief, knowing that Beeb is ready to defend against any threat that may come his and your way.

The droid rolls forward with smooth precision, placing himself between you and the Mandalorian, and the approaching stormtroopers.

His grappling cables are coiled and at the ready, glinting in the dim light of the corridor. Beeb is prepared for whatever may come, his circuits buzzing with focused energy.

The sound of marching boots alerts you to the presence of two stormtroopers, causing you to quickly grab the Mandalorian and pull him behind a nearby crate. Beeb rolls behind another crate, mirroring your stealthy movements.

The room falls silent as the Stormtroopers enter, their weapons at the ready, flashlights illuminating the darkness. You wait patiently in your hiding spot, heart racing with anticipation.

As they pass by, the Mandalorian leaps into action, his blaster blazing with deadly accuracy. The first trooper falls before he even knows what hit him, and the second meets the same fate in the blink of an eye.

Their bodies hit the ground, and the only sound left is the hum of the Mandalorian's weapon as he holsters it. You emerge from your hiding spot, ready to continue the mission.

Your keen senses pick up the sight of Beeb unleashing a jolt of electricity at the fallen stormtroopers, his optical lenses narrowing at the two troopers who had dared to threaten the safety of the Child.

"Bad guys," Beeb chides them with an electronic hum, as he continues to shock their motionless bodies. Watching his adorable antics, you can't help but let out a peal of soft laughter, a sound of amusement slipping past your lips. And is that a faint huff you hear from beneath the Mandalorian's helmet? Who knows?

Focusing on the task at hand, you pivot with swift grace, and at that very moment, another trooper steps into the room, weapon drawn and poised for attack.

You meet their gaze without hesitation, your eyes blazing with the force of your conviction. The trooper charges forward, but you are prepared.

With graceful ease, you retrieve a concealed blaster, its weight familiar in your hand. In a swift and calculated move, you unleash a lethal bolt of energy, aimed with deadly precision towards the trooper.

The blaster fires with a deafening blast, the red energy bolt streaking through the air before striking the Imperial soldier with unerring accuracy. The trooper crumples to the ground, defeated by your skill and power. Your brother-in-law Han Solo's gift proves its worth in moments like these. A sleek and deadly DL-44 blaster pistol. That man is a lifesaver at times.

You turn on your heel and catch the Mandalorian's expression of astonishment. A small smirk tugs at the corner of your lips, and you give a casual shrug of your shoulders.

The Mandalorian clearly wasn't expecting you to wield a blaster, and you relish the look of surprise on his face.

"You never know when a blaster might come in handy," you quip, a playful glint in your eyes.

The Mandalorian chuckles, his disbelief now turning into admiration. "I've seen Jedi use a lightsaber to deflect blaster fire, but you using one like that is a sight to behold." You smile at the Mandalorian's compliment, feeling a sense of satisfaction. "As a Jedi, it's important to be adaptable," you reply. "Sometimes, unconventional methods are necessary to get the job done."

The Mandalorian nods in agreement, his eyes still fixed on you. "I guess that makes sense. You Jedi are full of surprises."

A chuckle escapes your lips, the corners of your mouth upturned. "Surprises are part of our repertoire," you reply with a grin.

With your lightsaber ignited you turn to enter the other room. The Mandalorian readies his own weapons, his gaze unwavering and focused on the task ahead.

"Shall we?" Your lips curve upward in a hint of a smile as you address both Beeb and the Mandalorian.

Beeb chirps and whirs, before responding in a high-pitched tone, 'I'm always ready for action, mama.'

The Mandalorian's helmet meets your eyes, his countenance stoic, "Let's go," he says with conviction.

With conviction, you and the Mandalorian stride across the threshold into the next room. Your eyes scan the area, and you quickly spot two troopers positioned on opposite sides of the room. One stands to the right, the other to the left, their backs to you.

As you turn towards the Mandalorian, a moment of stillness hangs in the air between you. With a mutual understanding, you each take on a trooper, splitting off to opposite sides of the room. You focus on the trooper on the left, ready for battle. The Mandalorian moves to the right, his weapon at the ready.

Without a sound, you glide forward and close the distance between yourself and the stormtrooper. His back is turned to you and he is unaware of your presence. You position yourself to the side and pivot on the ball of your foot.

Your body flows with the motion as you deliver a swift kick to the back of his knee, targeting his popliteal fossa with precise accuracy.

The stormtrooper loses his balance and falls to the ground with a loud thud, his rifle clattering out of his hands. You move in quickly, taking advantage of his vulnerability, and grab his arm with both hands.

Your movements are graceful, yet purposeful, as you twist his arm behind his back, dislocating his shoulder with a swift and efficient motion.

The stormtrooper cries out in pain, but you do not relent. With a calm and focused demeanor, you apply pressure to his wrist, rendering him powerless. Your training allows you to seamlessly transition from one move to the next, leaving your opponent helpless in your grasp.

The Mandalorian and Beeb, who decided to assist the Mandalorian, make their way to your side. You stand tall, victorious over the fallen stormtrooper, your chest rising and falling with every labored breath. A whisper of the Force caresses your consciousness, and you feel the familiar tingle on the nape of your neck. Your awareness sharpens as you sense the source of the disturbance, the presence of someone pure. It is the Child. The energy in the air shifts and swirls, beckoning you to follow its trail and rescue the youngling. The energy that envelops you vibrates with a sudden intensity as if the very fabric of the Force is trying to communicate with you. And then, like a veil being lifted, a brilliant light shines through the darkness, revealing the presence of the youngling.

You can sense the Child's pure essence, a warm and comforting glow that fills you with hope and purpose. It's as if the galaxy suddenly feels less daunting, less vast, knowing that you are not alone in your journey.

Your senses flare with awareness, drawing your attention to a door. You can sense the Child's presence emanating from the other side. The Force guides your instincts, urging you to move closer to the door. With each step, the sensation grows stronger, until you can almost feel the Child's tiny heartbeat. You come to a stop, mere inches from the door, knowing that the Child is waiting just beyond.

As you stand still, attuned to the presence of the Child, you sense a slight shift in the air behind you. Suddenly, the sound of blaster fire echoes in the chamber as the Mandalorian fires upon the control panel, causing the door to slide open.

In an instant, you turn to face two stormtroopers, their blank helmets staring back at you with cold, lifeless eyes.

Beeb springs into action, unleashing his grappling cables with deadly accuracy towards the unsuspecting trooper. In a flash, he deftly rolls towards his target, unleashing a shower of crackling bolts of electricity that leave the trooper writhing in pain.

Meanwhile, the Mandalorian engages the other trooper, his movements swift and precise. His blaster roars to life, spitting out bolts of plasma that send the trooper scrambling for cover. But the Mandalorian is relentless, closing in with a fierce determination that leaves the trooper no room to escape.

You stride forward towards the man, a doctor, your gaze locked onto him. With a flick of your wrist, you summon the Force, lifting him off the ground as if he were weightless. His eyes widen in surprise and fear, and he struggles against your grasp, but you hold him steady with ease. The power of the Force surges through you, filling you with a sense of control and mastery.

"No, no, no, no, please. I didn't do anything, I kept him safe." The Doctor yells out in a panic and fear.

With a flick of your wrist, you toss the doctor aside, taking notice of a mind probe floating above the Child. Your hand rises, fingers curling into a tight fist as you focus your energy. With a surge of power, the mind probe crumples, crushed by the might of the Force.

A cacophony of metal screeching against metal resonates throughout the chamber as the fragments of the droid plummet to the ground. Doctor Pershing retreats in terror at the sight of your might, his pupils dilating in awe of your immense power. You turn towards him, your gaze unflinching.

"Explain yourself," you demand, your voice cold and commanding.

Doctor Pershing cowers from you, raising his hands in fear, "I protected him. I protected him. If it wasn't for me, he would already be dead! Please, don't hurt me. Please." A firm grip on your shoulder brings you back from the brink of your anger, and you turn to see the Mandalorian, his head slowly shaking in disapproval. As you catch your breath, you feel a gentle brush against your leg and glance down to see Beeb, his lights flickering with concern. Gradually, the overwhelming emotions that had threatened to consume you begin to ebb away, leaving behind a sense of clarity. And for the first time, you lay eyes on the Child.

Your gaze falls upon the Child, and in an instant, a flood of memories consumes you. You are transported back to a time long ago, to a distant planet where an ancient and wise Jedi Master once took you under his wing. You can almost feel the warmth of the sun on your skin and hear the sounds of the lush jungle around you. You remember the lessons, the guidance, and the wisdom of that ancient Jedi, and how it has shaped you into the person you are today.

The presence of Master Yoda courses through your veins, his teachings a part of who you are. His voice reverberates in your mind, imparting words of wisdom and guidance that resonate to this day. The air around you seems to shimmer with his essence, as if he were right there by your side, guiding you with every step. Master Yoda's voice reverberates, whispering through the very essence of the Force. "Young one, take the Child, you must. Danger here, there is."

A surge of determination wells up within you, as Master Yoda's words echo through your mind. You nod in agreement with the wise Jedi's words, feeling a deep sense of urgency to protect the innocent Child from the impending danger.

"The Empire is on its way," you declare. "Their hunger for the Child will not be satiated until they have him in their grasp. We must leave, and we must leave now. Our mission is to protect this Child at all costs."

You feel the Mandalorian's unwavering gaze upon you, despite the obscurity of his helmet. Even though you can't see his eyes, you sense the intense determination that burns within him, and it ignites a flame within your spirit. With a nod of agreement, he signals his commitment to the mission at hand, and you know that you have a steadfast ally by your side. With a swift and gentle movement, you approach the Child, feeling a sense of urgency to release him from the restraints that bind him to the hover-stretcher. Your fingers glide over the metal clamps that hold him in place, and you focus your mind on freeing him from this captivity. As you work, your heart fills with a deep sense of compassion and tenderness towards this small and innocent being, who has been so cruelly taken from his home. You pause for a moment, watching the Child's peaceful form, and you feel a surge of protective love wash over you. Without hesitation, you release the final clamp, and the Child is free.

You hold the Child tenderly against your chest, his small form a weightless burden in your arms. His little chest rises and falls in a gentle rhythm as he sleeps, his dreams a mystery to you.

Turning to face Beeb and the Mandalorian, you offer them a small smile. Though you cannot see the Mandalorian's eyes behind his beskar helmet, you know that he is watching you intently, his protective nature evident in the way he stands.

Beeb chirps softly, his mechanical whirring a soothing balm to your ears. You feel grateful for his presence, as he has been a constant companion and ally on your journey.

The Mandalorian's gloved hand rests gently on the small of your back, his touch sending a shiver through you, a feeling of safety and protection. With the Child cradled in your arms, and Beeb by your side, you follow the Mandalorian as he leads the way out of the sterile lab and into the dark, foreboding corridors of the Imperial Base.

The echoes of your footsteps fill the air as you move swiftly and quietly, every step filled with purpose and determination. You can feel the weight of the Child in your arms, his breathing steady and calm, and you're filled with a sense of responsibility, a deep need to protect him at all costs.

The Mandalorian's beskar helmet gleams in the dim light, and you can't see his eyes, but you sense his strength and resolve, his unwavering commitment to getting all of you out of there alive.

As you make your way through the winding corridors, you can feel the tension rising, the air thick with danger and the threat of discovery. But the Mandalorian's presence at your side, and Beeb's chirping encouragement, keep you focused and grounded, and you move forward with a steady pace.

Together, the four of you press on, determined to escape the Imperial Base and get the four of you to safety.

Tag list: @babygirlrex0504 @alienated-green-tea @fatima-marisa @dindjarindude @sharin1806 @ruthyalva96 @avengersfan25 @i-say-choco-you-say-ice-cream @the-anchored-sailor-girl @erissco @vintageoldfashion

☼ Please note that I do not wish to have my work translated or published on any third party reading websites. I claim the rights to my work.

☼ Where I don’t have any rights to the characters, many ideas and OC are my own creation. Please respect that.

[birgittesilverbae]

“i like it like this. just the two of us.” - Shannary

Shannon sits cross-legged on the bench, her sketchbook open on her knee, her gaze torn between Antequera below her and the girl next to her. Mary has a book balanced on her own knee, a palm-sized spiral bound notebook that she's tilted just far enough away that Shannon wouldn't be able to catch a glimpse of the pages, even if she'd wanted to. Not that she's about to try. Just as Shannon has no intentions of flipping the pages of her sketchbook open and placing them in Mary's lap, so too does Mary deserve the privacy afforded by Shannon's lack of a wandering eye. 

Shannon wonders, though, whether Mary's contains the same secrets as her own. Whether she could flip through Mary's notebook and find echoes of herself haunting its pages. Matching pairs to the curves of hands and wrists, the slopes of shoulders, the shadows of jawlines that dot her sketchbook. Scattered fragments that, if combined into their whole, would lay Shannon bare as an autopsy. Ribs cracked open, spread wide, heart pried out of her chest cavity to be weighed and measured. 

"You okay?"

It's years of dedicated training that keep her sketchbook in hand and not flying across the hilltop. As it is, she knocks her tin of charcoal pencils off her other knee when she startles. "Yeah, I'm good," she blusters, dropping into a deep squat to gather them up.

Mary's fingers catch her under the chin, tilt her face up. "How many times have I told you you don't have to bullshit with me, Shan?"

"Always one too few," she admits readily, then winces. Trust those words to stick in her tongue across all these years. Always one too few of everything that her father had thought necessary to force her to fall in line. 

Mary nudges her with the toe of her boot. "There's something on your mind."

"I'm working it out," she replies, gathering the last of the pencils back into the tin and standing tall. She raises her hands above her head, arches her back, releases a groan at the comfort that follows her vertebrae crackling.

Mary stares up at her, lips parted, something foreign and dangerous in her gaze. She pokes the tip of her tongue between her teeth. "Give me something, Shan, otherwise I might start to worry it's me."

"It's not you."

"Gotta call bullshit on that."

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"You've been pulling away from me." 

Shannon widens her eyes, makes a show of sweeping a hand around to gesture at the hilltop, vacant but for them.

Mary kicks her in the ankle. "You know what I mean."

Shannon drops back onto the bench, leans forward and braces her forearms on her thighs. She very carefully does not look at Mary. "I like it like this. Just the two of us."

Mary raps her knuckles against the side of Shannon's thigh. "I do too, Shan."

"It's easier this way."

"It doesn't have to be hard," Mary says softly. Her hand lands on Shannon's shoulder, a branding iron burning the shape of her palm into Shannon's skin. "Having friends."

Shannon buries her face in her hands. "I don't want to be your friend," she chokes out. "Or, I do, but–"

Mary's thumb brushes across the curve of her scapula. Shannon has to strain herself in order to not lean into the touch. "It doesn't have to be hard having more, then."

"Doesn't it?"

Mary huffs a laugh, soft and warm. "No, sweetheart." Her free hand cups Shannon's jaw, and she tilts Shannon's face towards her. "It's as easy as anything." Her fingers are gentle on Shannon's skin. "As simple as this." Her touch is searing hot. "May I kiss you?"

Shannon thinks she nods. Maybe. Probably. But Mary waits until she can form a "Yes".

There's a scrape across the bridge of Mary's nose. Shannon goes cross-eyed looking at it, trying to puzzle out its source while Mary leans in.

Mary has always been restrained with her, always simmering on the edge of a rolling boil, and when she kisses Shannon, Shannon can feel that same energy roiling under Mary's skin. Her hands stutter, reach out, cradle Mary's neck as Mary–

As Mary pulls back?

Mary's wearing her usual wry smile, the one she always dons when she knows something that Shannon's clueless about, but there's a raggedness at its edges. "You good, Shan?"

"Huh?"

"Just wondering if you were ever gonna get around to kissing me back, or…"

"Oh." Her fingertips have found a home tracing the bow of her lips as she tries to pick apart the static that's taken hold of her. "I don't know," she admits, her brow furrowing. 

Mary taps the back of her hand against Shannon's elbow. "Okay, sweetheart. It's okay. That's okay. That's alright." And, as if she hasn't just blown the ground out from beneath Shannon's feet, she takes up her notebook and pen again and returns to writing.

[yiiyiiwrites]

The Punch [2]

[Summary/masterlist][part one]

Note: JJ Maybank going head to head with you in a sparring session. 2423 words

Five days had passed since your first run in with JJ. You hadn’t seen him since, the late nights at the gym reserved only for you. If he was smart he’d probably be training in the day so that you couldn’t find his weaknesses or sloppy routine when it came to fighting.

There was no weigh in or rap sheet for you to study. The lack of research or knowledge pushing you to run longer each morning and eat cleaner each day. Your muscles groaned each night as you laid in bed, you never thought you’d miss the ice baths you used to take weekly but you did.

As Friday comes by, you find yourself digging through your duffle bag. The pill container no longer rattling with pain killers. You chuck it across your room, wincing at the tight pull across your shoulder. Cradling the sore spot, you close your eyes and breathe in deep trying to manage the pain.

The house was buzzing with talk as you step out of your room and into the kitchen. Your grandmother chatting animatedly to your mother, both wearing matching aprons as they prepared a late dinner. Reggie nowhere to be seen, his presence missing every Friday till he shows up on Sunday. Nothing out of the ordinary at the Arnold household.

As you pass the kitchen table your grandmother reaches out to smooth a hand on your back. The action making you relax, a smile tugging your lips. You bid them goodbye, but you’re yanked back by the strap of your bag.

“Where are you off to?”

You turn around, gaze falling on your mother. The past few weeks had not been kind to her, dark rims hung under eyes and frown lines settling on her forehead. She was always tired, but her voice was never raised. A big contrast to your father.

“Just going to hang with some friends.” It’s almost too easy to lie, but your mother plucks the white curl of bandages tumbling from your bag. The zipper broken and not concealing the gloves either. You spin the duffel round behind you, fingers wrapping around the strap by your hip. You ignore the weight across your shoulder and the burn as you move.

There’s a beat of silence, the idle hum of your grandmother stopping as she watches the two of you. Your mother bundling and twisting the bandages in her hand, she’s too focussed on the implications of you fighting again. You’d barely made it out of the last championship with a medal. She’s seen the way your body aches and how your concentration lacks in everyday life.

What she can’t stand is you putting yourself in that position, never understood why you’d want to take a punch. Maybe you were just used it, something you learnt to take. It doesn’t make it any easier for her. She’d lost count the amount of times she’d begged her husband to give you a break, to not do too many fights so that you could rest, heal. So that you could be a regular teen.

The whistling kettle on the stove jolts her out of her thoughts and she sighs giving you the ribbon of material in your outstretched hand.

“It’s nothing serious Ma,” you say, but it’s only to make her feel better. You and her know that you’re lying. She closes your hand in hers and squeezes it, head nodding for you to go.

You’d like to say that you were more like your mother, but that’s not the case. You wish that you could see the world like her, care for people instead of pushing them away or worse lashing out. It’s how your hardwired, so you know it’s going to take another seventeen years to reprogram all that shit.

The walk to the gym led you astray from the many thoughts clouding your mind. Sun dipping down beyond the horizon, cool breeze carrying you along the side of the road.

As the club came into view, a group of guys exited the front door. You pulled the hood of your thin jacket to cover your face, but your uncle Reggie's voice had you jumping into the alley. Pressing your back against the wall and dropping your head down, you eyed the group as they swapped wads of cash between them.

The shady alley does enough to keep you out of sight, your gaze following your uncle get into a truck with a guy you'd never seen before. Silver tooth sparkling as he smiles out the window to another stranger. You wait in the shadows, stepping out as soon as the truck is out of view and turned the street corner.

You push the door open, the splintered panel still nailed where the glass pane used to be. Discarded shatters still littering the concrete outside, you make sure not to tread on any as you step over the threshold.

Wading through the dingy room, punching bags sway from the rafters. The low lighting around the main floor does little to announce JJ of your arrival.

You on the other-hand, have a front row view of JJ Maybank in all his glory. He's centerstage in the ring, muscles shifting along his back as he warms up. He's light on his feet, footwork almost like he's dancing.

"Can I help you?" His voice echoes through the room, arms dropping to his side before he turns to catch your blatant stare. There's a smirk playing on his lips, his arms resting on the rope as he stares down to you.

You change into your fighting shoes ignoring him. You shred your hoody and grab the hand wraps and boxing gloves from your duffle.

The wooden steps up to the ring creak as you climb them, head ducking to squeeze through the ropes. You stumble into the ring dropping your gloves with a thud.

JJ's circling the worn out platform, gaze flitting to you as you attempt to wrap your own hands in a hurry. He nudges his head towards the stool in the corner, catching the ribbon of white to tug you towards him. You don't decline his offer, knowing full well that it would only unravel inside your glove if you did it alone and in a rush.

His brow furrows as he focuses on his task, gentle feathery touches when he brushes the back of your hand. You don't say anything savouring the silence or more trying to get in that headspace of being a fighter. Either one of you would go down, you hoping it'd be him and not you.

"All done." JJ nods his head and inspects his handywork.

"Not bad Maybank. Here I was thinking you'd do a crap job to put me off my game." The snipes and trash talk are normal before a fight, you're used to swapping insults with whoever you fight or train with. But with the frown on JJ's face, it seem's like he's not much of a talker before a match.

You watch him scoop his gloves up and slip his hand in one. "Shirt, Maybank. You need to wear a shirt." As much as he was a sight to look at, you didn't want to be sticking to him too.

"Too distracting?" His brow quirks, dimples settling in his cheeks as he smiles to you. The flirting tactics would not be enough to put you off your game.

"Funny," you scoff, chucking him his t-shirt. His muscles tense as he pulls it over his head, you don't miss the faded bruises on his ribs, part of you trying to remember the best places to hit.

The harsh spotlight makes you squint, the boy across the ring from you bouncing on his spot and clapping his boxing gloves together. As JJ moved towards you his demeanour changed, smile slipping away and jaw tightening as he concentrated.

"Come on Champ."

You trade punches, he's swift and a lot more stable than you'd thought he be. Both of you get a few jabs before you retreat, hands raised to your centre ready to lift or drop to defend.

JJ backs you into a corner, arms caging you in. "Too close?" He whispers in your ear, but you jab him in the ribs and shove him away. Low blow you know, but he let his guard down. Of course you'd take it.

He shakes his head and laughs, knowing full well that you didn't direct all of your strength into the hit. You dodge his attacks, the stray strand of your hair whipping with the force of his glove that you narrowly just missed.

Where he'd stepped forward to throw his punch he left himself open, you took your chance and punched his jaw sending him stumbling back a few steps.

"Come on, Champ." JJ pressed his glove to his jaw. "Not the face." He shrugged it off, feet shuffling as he made the most of the area of the ring. He was ill equipped, battered shoes that you couldn't even run in and peeling leather gloves, but he made the best with what he had. You couldn't blame his lack of gear, his skill and judgement alone gave him everything he needed.

You land a few more punches, JJ returning the favour. When you thought you had the upper-hand, he'd swoop in and catch you off guard. You don't know how long you've been at it, just the two of you swapping insult back and forth to catch the other one out.

The sweat drips from your forehead, eyes stinging as you wipe it from your blurry vision. There's a dull numbing stab dancing over your shoulder blade with each punch, you suck in a breath hoping JJ doesn't catch on to your weakness. You daren't roll the tension or touch the spot in case you give it away.

It takes a while for you to register the hit, your back slamming to the floor. You scream in pain, it spreads like wildfire and the hand on your shoulder feels like its burning. Eye's heavy, black clouding your head you try to control your breathes and calm your racing heart.

"Shit, fuck. Hey are you with me?" JJ's voice is soft as well as his touch, palm tapping your cheek for you to stay awake and not pass out. "Marlowes."

You stay down for a few minutes, eyes squinting up at JJ who's form shields you from the glaring spotlight. He helps you sit, his head ducking to try and catch your gaze. His gloves are discarded over the other side of the ring, bandages unraveling from his sweaty hands, one hand still cradling your shoulder as if you'll fall back again.

"Sorry." You peel his hand off your shoulder and massage the sore spot, flinching when you try to move it. "Thought it was good."

JJ doesn't say anything, just nods his head deep in thought. He helps you remove your gloves and begins to unravel your bandages, stopping when you pull away from him to do it yourself. You're so focused on trying to shove your gear back in your bag, that you hadn't noticed that JJ had left.

You drag your duffle by the strap and swing over the ropes, JJ catching it as he came back. He holds the ropes so that you can climb out of the ring with more ease, hand guiding you down the steps.

"Here," he says draping a cooling pack over your shoulder and pushing you to sit on the step. "That bad huh?"

On instinct you shake your head, the more you complain the more you train, but that doesn't have to be the case anymore. Not on the cut at-least. "It's fine, it's manageable."

"I thought professionals looked after their bodies," JJ says stopping as he meets your glare. "I mean, like you should be resting not sparring." He leans his hand against the rope and looks down to you seated.

"Says the guy that's still healing." You point to his torso, sliding the ice pack away from your shoulder and placing it on the step beside you. "Anyways, I've gotta go." You don't need to trade sob stories, or get to know each other more.

JJ follows you through the gym after scrambling to get his gear together in his bag. You take your time, you're not sure why you wait for him, but you do. He opens the door for you, closing the gym and clicking the padlock to the front.

The flickering street lamps don't do much to light dark street, you fall in step with JJ as you cross the small parking lot. "See you around Maybank.," you call over your shoulder as you go your separate ways.

"I got you pretty good, huh Champ." JJ's leant against his bike, arms folded over his chest. "Remember that deal?"

You turn round regretting the abrupt movement in the wake of your takedown. "You're serious?" You want to laugh, but his serious expression and determined nod keeps you quiet.

The space between the two of you doesn't seem much when it comes to skill. JJ a little rough around the edges, but he made up for it by his ability to judge his opponent well.

"Okay, if you want to train with me you gotta be serious." You eye him as he mumbles an agreement. "Need a routine and discipline." Walking towards him you ask for his phone and enter your number.

"I got a fight tomorrow night, come by." JJ taps his phone screen, your phone beeping in your hoody pocket. "All the details are there, see you around Champ."

JJ goes to move, but you pull him back by his t-shirt. "One thing, you can't tell anyone I'm training you. Bad enough I'm going it alone, never mind my dad finding out I'm using his regime for you."

Saying your goodbyes, you watch JJ zip down the road on his motorbike. He'd offered you a ride home, but you need the fresh air and walk to clear your mind. The consistent buzzing of your phone drew your attention to the screen, the many notifications of missed calls from your Father. You'd been dodging him since you'd come to the cut, not wanting to into another debate about training or going to live with back on Figure eight.

You ignored the calls, putting your headphones in to listen to music and drown out everything around you.

[lovelytaes-blog]

reach the top (3) - jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader; (brief) jin x reader

synopsis: when your volleyball team gets cut and your brother, who is recently enrolled to your rivalry school, needs you to help him attend his classes while he continues to pursue his rap career; while you try keeping your volleyball dream alive, by serving sweet revenge on those that didn't believe in you.

genre: crack, fluff, angst; strangers to lovers/roommates to lovers; university au.

warning(s): mature language/themes, gender role implications.

word count: ~3k

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“How’s classes going?”

“Oh, you know,” You mumbled brushing your fake bangs out of your face, “It’s class.”

“I owe you a ton, for this. Thanks, sis.”

“Don’t mention it…” You trailed, holding the phone against your ear and shoulder as you finished a calculus equation, smiling in triumph when the question ends up being right.

“How’s volleyball? Did you girls figure out a way to get funding?”

You scoffed, “Yeah, something like that.”

“Well, that’s good right? You don’t sound so excited?”  

“No, I am, “ you sighed, “It’s just, hard yenno, not easy… being compared to your ex? Just tired of from practicing so much…”

Your very first try out was two days ago, you had never been so excited. You had been running every morning and practicing drills by yourself to prepare yourself for the battlefield that is the volleyball court. You were confident that you would have made the team—that was until you actually watched the starting line up play a game. You had gotten to the gym early, in hopes that you would be able to practice some more drills, but you were beaten by the starting line up.

Of course, Jungkook, Jimin, and Taehyung were part of the starting lineup. They were accompanied by Choi Beomgyu, who was the team’s designated Libero (who played extremely well, which was not what you were expecting from the boy that embodies the definition of sloth); along with a kid named Yeonjun who also played Middle block, and Taehyun who played right-side. You had always known Ridgecrest was prideful of their men’s volleyball team, but you were not expecting them to be this good…

“First off,” Your brother scoffs, “Fuck Seokjin, I don’t care that he’s older than me, he had no right to treat you like that… I hope they lose against Ridgecrest again! We all know that they’re so much better than our volleyball team anyways.”

It was true; you did know these boys were good. You had a taste of their talent at the annual homecoming games between Cypress and Ridgecrest, and because you were the star player’s girlfriend (at the time), you were obligated to attend.

“No, you’re right, Hobi,” You sighed, “I just hope we – I mean, Ridgecrest wins this time around… From what I’ve been hearing is that Jin and Namjoon have been getting service aces left and right… Which never happened before. I guess I’m just a little worried.”

“Dunno, maybe they’re on some black magic shit.”

“I’m serious, Hobi, I don’t think I – I mean Ridgecrest stands a chance, I’ve seen them and how they deal with serves, it takes them a bit to get used to it.” You sulked.

Hoseok tsked, “Have a little faith, Y/n.” You hear your brother sigh, “But if anyone can beat Cypress, and beat them bad, it’s Ridgecrest.”

“Damn,” You giggled, “America’s changing you already? You’re so positive!”

“Aiiish, you’re such a twerp! I’m a ray of sunshine, I’m always positive!”

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“Are you sure you were an Ace?”

It has now been well over a week of practices, and while you thought you were getting better, it seemed that the starting line up of boys were getting just as good, just as fast. To say you were irritated was an understatement. You knew you had a disadvantage—being a female against ginormous boys definitely has it’s difficulties—but it didn’t help that you were endlessly being teased by Jimin; Taehyung and Jeongguk had their moments, but for the most part they just went along with the shorter man, laughing when he made a snide comment on your height.

“Do you ever get tired of being annoying?” You snarled, wiping the sweat off of your forehead, eyes glaring at the setter.

“Do you ever get tired of being annoying,” Jimin mocks, “As a matter of fact, I do not. Blehhhh.” Jimin pulls one of his cheeks down and sticks his tongue out at you, like the child he was.

You swear he reminds you of that one volleyball character on that one anime…

Tor-Torro? Oikama, was it? You couldn’t remember, but ironically enough—you were positive they played the same exact position.

“Can you stop tormenting the kid,” Taehyung swats Jimin’s head, earning a whiny Taehyung-ah, along with a pout.

“I’m not a kid!” You grunted out serving another ball over the net, that Beomgyu retrieved no problem. You tsked in annoyance and grabbed another.

“Your height could’ve fooled us.” Jeongguk snickers, easily serving a beautiful overhand serve, to which Beomgyu didn’t catch.

“Nice one, Kook!” Beomgyu utters out, eyeing the stary ball with a look of determination, “I’ll get the next one.”

“Do you boys ever get tired of, I don’t know, picking on me?”

“Nah.”

“You make it easy.”

“I barely pick on you, why am I being included?”

You could feel your blood boil as you toss up the ball, your feet quickly rushing forward to jump. As your feet left the ground, your body arches, coiling back and winding up for a hard hit. The adrenaline pumping through your veins echoed in your ears as the ball stops spinning for a brief moment, your arm making it’s way to strike the white ball. As your hand connects with the volleyball, like you always do, everything stilled.

Your eyes followed the quickness of the white ball, as it touches just the inside of the volleyball court, Beomgyu nowhere in sight, as you fall back to the ground, the sound of rubber hitting the floor harshly fills the quietness of the gym. Breathing heavily, cracking your neck to the side, your gaze drifts up to the libero; his eyes wide with shock, as he stared at the now stationary ball that sat behind the court, near the bleachers.

“Wh—”

“How?”

You turned around to see your three seniors staring gobsmacked at you. Feeling a sense of pride and confidence, you rolled your eyes.

“By the way,” You walked past them to grab another ball, “I did play Ace, and I was actually Cypress’s best.”

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“Jeon and Jung!”

You groaned, today had already sucked; the fact that practice ran later than normal this morning (which, really sucked because now, not only could you feel the dry sweat sticking to your body, but you weren’t able to do your normal morning routine where you were able to hide in a shower stall just at the end of the hallway of your dorm room, but when you had gone to check, that bathroom was out of order) but now you were partnered with one of the boys that mocked you.

“Alright, pair up,” Your professor claps, “and say hello to your partner for the rest of the semester! I expect you all to be mature adults and ready to work on the upcoming labs—starting with the first one on Thursday! Please have your pre-labs done, along with having read the material so that you’re well prepared to start right at 2. Don’t forget to cite any work that isn’t your own. I will be docking off a mark for those that do not cite their work.”  

As your professor finished her speech, the chair beside you scraped noisily beside you, indicating your partner’s presence.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jeongguk grunts at your figure, “I’m not thrilled either, Chibi-chan.”

“Do you ever get tired of pestering me about my height?”

“No.”

“I’m not even that short!” You exclaimed throwing your head back in anguish.

“Hm,” Jeongguk hums, turning to face you and giving your slouched body a once over, “still shorter than me.” He shrugs.

Above all the people your professor could pair you up with. It seriously had to be this guy. Really? What had you done in your past life to deserve this? Did you murder someone?

“Whatever, Jeon,” You uttered out, “let’s just get through this term.”

“Kinda hard when my partner doesn’t want any of my help,” He sneers.

“We haven’t even started!”

“And?”

“And…” You mocked him, “how do you even know I don’t want your help if we haven’t even started the stupid lab, dumbo?”

“And this is why you’re single.”  

“What, just cuz I called you a name? Grow up, Jeon.”

“If you hadn’t noticed, I’ve been growing, you however, have not.”

“Quit pestering me, you gigantic muscle-bunny.”

“You did not compare me to a fucking rodent.”

“If the shoe fits!”

“You’re such a—”

“Knock it off!” Beomgyu snarls causing the two of you to stare wide eyed at the libero who threw his hood up to continue his nap.

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“Again, Jung.” Coach Kai sighs, watching you miss another toss from Jimin.

You were drenched in sweat, body aching, and your feet was starting to swell in your shoes with the amount of jumping you had been doing. You didn’t want to admit it but it seemed that you just weren’t getting to the tosses fast enough.

The practice this morning had killed you. You were barely able to keep up with the boys this morning; after the full day of classes, how were they still so energetic?

It definitely didn’t help that Jeongguk was doing fuck all during the remainder of lab; you guys barely started the pre-lab and you had wanted to finish it before the weekend… Clearly that wasn’t happening—since you had a practice match at Nikoli this weekend. Coach Kai had bumped you up to their pinch server—the player that gets called to disrupt the flow of the match in hopes of favouring the players team for the rest of the game. You hadn’t ever been just a pinch server, but as long as you were a step closer to being a regular, you’d take it.

However, that’s easier said than done.

Jeongguk played annoyingly well. His line shots were are amazing. The amount of times during practice he’d get it perfectly on the line was annoying. He made hitting he ball look so effortless that you can’t help but watch him hit the ball. His blocks are insanely high, that you for sure would love to see him block one of Namjoon’s spikes. His serves… His serves were just as amazing… It’s no wonder he’s on the starting line up, he could do it all—better than you. He truly deserves the Ace title… but you’d never admit that out loud.

Taehyung’s blocks were no joke. From what you remembered from watching their games at Cypress, Taehyung and Jeongguk were considered the Iron Wall. One of the tallest blocks in the prefecture. It helped immensely that their verticals were much higher than the average verticals for their heights, but even so, their arms added onto the height. Their strategical blocking skills are the types of blockers you hated.

Back at Cypress the highest blockers in the prefecture for girls was, ironically, the girls team for Nikoli. You remembered losing to their team during your first year; this was the first game you had ever lost since coming onto the team. Euna played extremely well, getting the ball to you wherever you needed it; Somi receiving the ball each and every time… It had been you. You couldn’t get it past their blockers, you couldn’t find a way to slam the ball down on the other side of the court… You had always gotten shut out. That must’ve been the day you set out to become the best Ace in the prefecture. You worked on your shoulder mobility, becoming more fluid and flexible in your movements. You were thinking more rather than relying solely on instinct and intuition. You were determined to become the best; and the best is exactly what you became.

So, you can imagine how hard it is to start from the very bottom and work your way up. Especially with a new team.

Jimin’s sets are absolutely lethal; his precision on tossing the ball to his spikers were unmatched. He knew how to toss perfectly to his spikers—knowing the exact angle they want, and the perfect speed to get it to them. It hurt you to say it, but he was even better than Euna…

The only problem was that you’d never had this issue with Euna; her tosses were easy to hit, she made sure everyone was able to hit her tosses… Why was it so hard to hit Jimin’s?

“Jimin.” You huffed.

The setter turns to glance at you with his cat like eyes, “Hm?”

You sighed annoying, “Slow your toss when you pass to me.”

“Excuse me?”

The court was silent.

“I said,” You glanced up at him with tired eyes, “slow your tosses when you pass to me.”

“You want me… to slow my tosses?” Jimin hisses, “And why would I stoop to your level? I know my tosses are good.”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you crossed your arms, “I know your tosses are good—they’re great,” You huffed, “but, just slow them down for now. Let me get used to them.”

“And why should I fix my game play for someone who’s benched?”

Taehyung quickly puts out a hand between the two of you, “Hey, Chim, calm—”

“Cool it, Park.”

Your eyes widened when Jeongguk pushed through to where you and Jimin were, wiping off his sweat with a towel.

“Just give him a slower toss. It’s just a practice anyways, he’s not playing at homecoming.”

“Well, it’s my goal to.” You grunted, Coach Kai giving you a reassuring smile.

Coach Kai turns to Jimin, “Slow your tosses, Jimin. Let Jung get used to it, then pick up speed after, but for now respect his wishes; remember Park, it isn’t you that distinguishes how that ball goes over the net.”

Jimin’s cheeks turn a shade of pink as he bowed, uttering a got it coach, before turning around to continue a mock match with the rest of the team.

Coach Kai then turns to you, “You’ve got guts kid, telling Park to slow his toss the way you did.”

You shrugged, “I just want to play the best I can…”

“And about homecoming…” Coach pauses, “You could still make the starting line up if you show improvement. I’ve seen your receives and your blocks, you’ve got some crazy agility. You’ve also got monster serves… If you could find a way to fight mid-air better and be able to handle Jimin’s normal speed tosses… You could be the next Ace of Ridgecrest.”

You gave Coach Kai a toothy smile, “Got it coach!”

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“Oi.”

You peered up at the familiar voice of your teammate. You all had just finished up practicing—waiting for everyone to get out of the locker rooms, you sat in the lobby so you all could walk to the cafeteria together.

“Don’t ever tell me what to do.” Jimin snarls, shoving past you, “This is the only time I’ll slow my tosses; either get better or keep the bench warm, Jung. I won’t toss to someone that can’t win.”

Your gaze drops as you stare at the ground, avoiding all eye contact to the blond setter. The dull ache in your chest seeps its way to the surface as you bite your lip to prevent it from quivering more.

“Remember your place Jung; you just got here; you’re benched. I don’t know how it was at Cypress, but here, to make demands like that? You’ve got to be good.” Jeongguk bites.

“You say you were an ace? How can you be an Ace when you can barely keep up with our team? When you’re able to make amazing plays like the rest of us, then maybe, you can make demands like that. But until then,” Jeongguk bumps your shoulder roughly, looking over his shoulder to glare at you, “you have no authority to ask any of us to jeopardize our plays to accommodate you.”

Refusing to look up, you could feel your eyes prickling with tears. You quickly wiped your eyes before feeling a hand upon your shoulder.

“Don’t listen to them,” Taehyung smiles gently, “you got really good in one practice, they’re just jealous… I think your soft serves can give us an advantage,” Taehyung nods his head in the direction of the rest of the team as he walks next to you.

“Not to mention you were able to hit Jimin’s tosses easier in the last half hour.”

“He’s a really good setter…” You whispered looking down at your feet.

“As he should be—he was the starting setter for All-Stars Korea.”

You stopped, “P-Park?” Taehyung nods, chuckling.

“Yeah—he had the opportunity to play last year in the 18 and under category,” Taehyung shrugs, “He’s really talented, he’s normally really perceptive when he sets, so he’s able to change his tosses based on who he’s setting to, but with you,” Taehyung moves to turn to face you, “he couldn’t tell your style of play. Communication is key when it comes to Jimin, he normally knows exactly the type of toss to give his spikers, but for some reason… He couldn’t pinpoint what tosses you could hit.”

Taehyung shrugs again, continuing towards the cafeteria, “Not that, that’s a bad thing, but…” Taehyung looks over his shoulder with a smirk, “that may be troublesome to opponents on the opposite side of the court.”

And then it clicks.

This was why you were so good; this is why you were the Ace. Euna and you have history, she’s been tossing to you since middle school—so she’s grown accustomed to your game play—to your decoy moves. She knows when you want the toss, and she knows how to lead the opponents into thinking someone else will hit her ball.

But this is Jimin—a genius setter, he knows the type of set to give his spikers before they even know the set they want, he knows the best toss to give them so that they can play at the utmost best to their abilities…

Jimin’s talent is to bring out everyone’s 100% effort, no matter what team he played on. And that’s scary.

The chills that ran down your spine thinking about how amazing Jimin actually is, was exciting… If you and him could communicate better with your decoy moves and his genius setting skills… You just might be able to beat Cypress in their homecoming game.

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