#Out-of-Town Tryouts

[fetchmearum420]

The final “falling apart” is David Ford 😭🫶🏻❤️

[thecitykeepsevolving]

Wicked (2004)

If/Then (2014)

Redwood (2024)

WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO YOUR FANS, IDINA?

[fitzpirations]

days of wine and roses cast recording being recorded,, you love to see it. I will go back to posting more academic things on this blog at some point

[jiminiecrickets]

HONEY POT. PJM / KTH / M!READER

summary. there's something wrong with the popular kids at this small-town high school. something deeply, viscerally, hauntingly wrong...

wc. 8.8k

tags. smut | top!reader, bottom!tae, switch!jimin, jimin in skirts and heels, voyeurism, multiple orgasms, biting, spitroasting, brief daddy kink (r. receiving), gratuitous blood/gore, blood as lube (from another wound), cultism & religious fervour, cannibalism, murder

note. happy halloween!! i began this in early august to be on time, but uh, we know how that turned out :')

"—and i was like, no, that isn't how this works! i'm literally the best he's ever had, why would he ever wanna break up with me? i even bought him that stupid walkman he kept whining about and he still went and cheated on me and then tried to dump me. me! how could he?"

"well, he was already on his way to being a forty-year-old junkie who lives in a trailer park and hates life. he could've had so much with you. he'll realise how much he messed up – he'll get his karma."

"i know, i know... you're right. i just wish he could've been nicer. could've saved us both the trouble."

jimin lifts his soft dark eyes from his pink handheld mirror. he smacks his glossy lips and shuts the mirror with a clack, crossing his legs the other way and leaning back against the steps of the steel bleachers. he glances up at taehyung, who sits one step above him.

dressed in a cropped, pale pink shirt and blue jeans, taehyung fans his hot face with chunky rings on each finger, eyes lifted to the sky in a futile effort to hold back tears. jimin had already helped him redo his makeup in the bathroom, and this wasn't the first time taehyung had cried over a boy. poor thing just had too big of a heart – he wasn't made for modern boys and their vices.

jimin sucks on his teeth and sighs, turning forwards to lord over the verdant grassy field, where the senior boys are engaged in tryouts for college football teams. "don't worry, honey. we'll find the right one for you eventually. maybe try an athlete? the artsy ones are always such snobs."

"oh, they aren't all that bad, really," taehyung mumbles, patting the corners of his damp eyes lightly. "anyway, they all want you, not me. they're not into anyone who isn't a cheerleader."

"you're being silly. they just don't think you're interested – you keep rejecting them." jimin scours the field, tucking his dark hair behind his ear. a diamond stud flashes under the sun. he reaches out and touches taehyung's knee, leaning in for secrecy he doesn't need. "how about that one?"

"he called me a sour bitch. no."

"and that one?"

"he made me do all the work on a paired project and took my ninety-eight for himself. no."

jimin purses his lips, eyes flickering between their faces, warm and shining under the sun. all around, they looked quite similar – all fairly muscular, with the same lazy grins. not bad for eye-candy, he supposes, but taehyung is a romantic, which is how anyone he dates manages to bury themselves so deeply in his heart.

motion by the changing rooms on the other side of the field. jimin's eyes flick over naturally, and they widen.

strong, handsome, and, most importantly, taehyung is already looking at him.

he keeps his watchful gaze discreet, following the figure as he crosses the field and joins the coach to speak with him briefly. he is handed a football, which he tosses and spins in his hands a few times, and the coach gathers a few lounging boys to help out.

they spread out, and the tryout begins.

jimin isn't an expert on the game, only knows the basics, but he knows how to read a man – and the coach is clearly impressed by what he sees. jimin observes quietly, crossing his legs and uncrossing them, as he runs circles around the rest of the boys, leaving them far in the dust.

at last, when the boys are huffing and puffing with their hands on their heads and the cute one takes his time wandering back to the coach – after meeting jimin's eyes for a quick, sparkling second – jimin turns his head in taehyung's direction.

"what about... that one?"

taehyung huffs, pressing his knees together and resting his elbows on them. jimin doesn't mention how his gaze flicks to his shoes before meeting jimin's, almost as if he didn't want to be caught looking. he gives the footballer a once-over, then inspects his nails. "too tall."

jimin watches him push back his cuticles with his thumbnail, those thick dark lashes brushing his fine cheekbones. his prettiness makes him a honeypot for invariably bad people, and though jimin feels for him, he can't say he wants him to stop trying. everyone has their place in the world – even cheaters and liars. taehyung's relationships make it easier to weed them out for proper atonement.

"are you sure?" jimin asks carefully, tilting his head. "he looks like just your type."

"i don't have a type," taehyung sighs. "if i did, it'd make finding people that much harder."

eventually, jimin hums, and turns away to watch the tryouts.

out of sight, taehyung's shoulders slump slightly, and he exhales shakily. he nibbles on the edge of his nail as his eyes follow a figure lifting a water bottle to his lips. his sweat-shining throat bobs as he swallows rapidly, and a trickle of water escapes from the corner of his lips; it trails down his neck to soak into the collar of his shirt. he wipes it away without much thought. taehyung presses his thighs together.

suddenly, jimin turns back to him, propping his chin on his palm. his eyes are big and innocent as he asks, "hey, tae? you know that ex we were talking about earlier? i want his address."

"o-oh, um – just to make him sorry, right?"

"yeah. he will be."

taehyung swallows. "yes. okay. is it bad that i feel... that i pity him?"

jimin giggles, sweet and high like a bell. he squeezes taehyung's knee. "you're my best friend. i'm not going to let anyone get away with hurting you. you know that."

"mhm, i know. just make sure nobody sees you, alright? i don't want you getting in trouble for vandalism or something."

"oh, my charges would definitely include more than petty vandalism, but you know me – i cannot be caged!" he jumps to his feet and stretches high above his head, his shirt riding up to expose a sliver of pure, unblemished skin. the way he scrunches his nose slightly makes taehyung's heart flutter.

he exhales softly as his neck cracks, and he flashes taehyung a quick smile as he packs up his pin-studded messenger bag and slings it over his shoulder. "you can give me his address after school, but don't leave it too late. don't forget about the curfew. i have to go for now, but you make sure you take care of yourself, okay? if you feel too sad to study, i'm sure my mother would let you go home early if you asked."

taehyung hums and nods, leaning forward on the bench as jimin skips down the bleachers until his ivory pumps make a satisfying clack on the concrete base. "your nepo-baby status is really helpful sometimes, y'know?"

jimin beams, his eyes crinkling to crescents. "i know! see you around, honey. love you!"

"love you," taehyung echoes, and watches him go. his all-white outfit makes him as bright as the moon, and just as breathtaking. effortlessly, he carves a path through the crowds like moses and the red sea, perfectly oblivious to the power he wields over them all.

taehyung sighs and turns back to watch the tryouts, and that one special player right in the middle. just as he wishes you'd come and cheer him up, you glance over, grass stains on your shorts and a new bruise on your knee. as you meet his gaze, the biggest grin splits your face. you wave with your whole arm and taehyung giggles to himself, hiding his warm cheeks behind his knuckles as he lifts one shy hand.

his heart races. for you, he'll keep up this masquerade. this was a dangerous neck of the woods, and he wouldn't let anything steal you away – not even jimin.

he's waiting patiently for you at the edge of the field when you finally manage to break off from your mates. his slim fingers dance lightly over your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. as quickly as his touch arrives, it vanishes, his arms once more wrapped around his body like a hug.

"hey," he greets softly.

"hey yourself," you reply, amusement light on your tongue. "i saw you earlier. i hope you didn't get bored watching me chase after a ball like a dog."

he huffs. "what are you saying? dogs are cute. you were cute. i like seeing you bound across the field – you make for some especially tasty eye-candy, sweating and panting like that."

"do i, now?" you say playfully, leaning against the steel fence. he leans in too, matching your smile with a pretty, half-bitten one of his own. his lashes flutter as you tease a kiss, the tip of your nose brushing his cheek. "next thing i know, you'll be begging to lick me up."

he clicks his tongue, turning away from your almost-kiss in half-assed defiance. "tch. here i am, trying to be sweet, and you ruin it all. boys like you have only one thing on their minds."

"hey, you started it! besides, are you telling me you wouldn't wanna taste of my lollipop?" you smirk, gazing at his side profile. he's drop dead gorgeous, all full lips and big eyes, and you could easily while away your days doing nothing but admiring the symmetry of his features.

taehyung rolls his eyes, but there's no heat to it. he sniffs. "you wish. you wouldn't last long enough to enjoy the view."

you place a hand over your heart. "careful, pretty boy, or you and your mean insults could remain part of me for a long, long time. words hurt, you know?"

"what do i have to be careful for? you like me too much to do any lasting damage to me. it's nice, really. nice to know you love me – in your own, silly little way." he pokes your chest, and you catch his hand in yours and lift his knuckles to your lips. the ghost of a kiss shivers over his skin.

"silly?" you parrot, returning his hand to him with a knowing look. you rest your hip against the top of the chain-link fence, casting a glance casually over the field. "you think my acts of love are silly?"

taehyung hums, leaning over and grasping your chin. he turns your face towards him. "'sweet', then – that's probably a better word for it. none of my exes ever did what you do for me. not even close. i'm sorry, baby – please don't pout."

"i'm glaring, actually," you huff. "this is my glaring face."

"don't, you'll get wrinkles," taehyung chides. he glances around, and swiftly, like a little bird, flits up on his toes to press his lips against your cheek. in the blink of an eye, he settles back into place on his side of the fence. he sighs, and a sudden weight slumps his shoulders. you straighten, turning towards him properly.

"he noticed you," he says, his voice lower than usual. "pointed you out to me as a potential boyfriend."

the smile you were wearing drops like a stone. "he did?"

taehyung doesn't trust himself to speak; he nods instead, staring at his shoes.

"well," you say, at a loss for words. "i mean, he's tiny. what's he gonna do to me?"

his head snaps up and the intensity of his gaze catches you off-guard. "don't underestimate him. you can't. he – he can do more than hurt you. he'll ruin you.

"no, no – don't roll your eyes," he snaps. "i know, i sound paranoid, but you haven't even been here for six months. you haven't seen what i've seen." his focus flickers to your surroundings, and he seems uncomfortable even when he leans in to whisper. "please. keep away from him, don't tell anyone about us, and for the love of god, stop visiting my house after curfew. he's whip-smart – he notices it once, he'll catch on like that." he snaps his fingers. "also, we have a change of plans. mark's off the table – jimin wants him."

at that, the corners of your mouth turn down. you cross your arms. "not if i get there first."

"baby – baby, look at me. you can't risk it."

"fuck," you hiss between your teeth. you clear your throat and wipe the expression off your face, flawless neutrality taking its place. it still simmers under your skin, but it's always easier to sweep something under the rug than clean it up. "fine. i can bring a friend over tonight instead. it'll be easy enough – these sheep will follow me anywhere. we can... have him for dinner."

taehyung's eyes glimmer, the hint of a smile playing at his lips. the worry's sloughed off his shoulders for now, and that's as good as you can hope. "i've always loved your lamb steaks. i've been waiting for this – for you. i'll be at yours by seven sharp."

"wear your pretty clothes," you hum almost offhandedly as you survey your fellow students. there's not a care in the world in those empty heads. "something black – and sexy."

taehyung flicks his bangs out of his eyes. "everything i wear is sexy. you'd do well to remember that."

"yes, dear."

—

his hands shake. that oil-heat, sweat-sheen, bone-crunch. his breath rattles through his lungs like the tongue of a too-small bell.

the weight of the kitchen knife in his hand is too much – he lifts it, and it tilts forward dangerously, trembling in his red-wet palm. the silver glimmers and flickers under the yellow shed lights.

a warmth behind him, a sturdy presence – tender hands slide down his arms, tracing him from collarbone to wrist like a delicate porcelain doll. they fold around his slim fingers, big scarred knuckles too worn to be a boxer's – they wear gloves for protection.

"split the skin shallow, so you don't pierce the meat," you murmur, your breath hot against his ear. you guide his hands with your own, slowly pressing down until the pop of released pressure signifies the beginning of the cut. "all the way down, just like that... good. you slip the knife under the skin and peel it back, making a scything or slicing motion to cut the membrane. long, slow strokes to control the angle of the blade. you want the meat nice and lean."

the night is still and silent outside, not a cricket or dog to be heard. the rushing of taehyung's pulse is loud enough for them all. he can feel your excitement against him – the quickened breathing, the thudding heart, the hitched gasp when his grip tightens on the knife and steadies.

"perfect," you croon in his ear, an undercurrent of a growl echoing beneath your words. "take your time. i want your first time to be..."

you shift against him, and he feels something prod his backside. he bites down on the inside of his cheek to silence himself and takes a deep, shaky breath, pressing down with the knife. sinew and muscle part easily under the sharpened blade.

"it's easier," he whispers, barely a breath, "than i thought it would be."

"you're doing very well, but remember, i'm guiding you. you won't find a better person to teach you."

your hands are big and knowledgeable over his own, each arc of the knife steady and precise. the blood warms his skin up to the knuckles, but it pales in comparison to your own, smeared up past your wrists in a deep ruby red. a bucket by the leg of the table is full of gore, intestines wrapped around a bladder and stomach and hacked-off chunks of fat. it was a job too bloody and slippery to give to your pretty shrike.

"this will be your steak," you hum, stroking the heavy, lick-wet cut of meat almost reverentially. you press your lips to his shoulder, then to his temple. he can feel your smile against his skin. "perfect knifework. it's almost as if you've done it before."

"well, it's like you said," taehyung breathes, gently placing it in the metal bowl at the top of the table. a secondary bowl beside it is already filled with some lesser cuts of meat, which you'd done to kill time before his arrival. "there's no better person to teach me."

he turns around in your arms, carefully linking his bloodied fingers behind your head. he noses your jaw, his lips brushing over yours. the strappy black top he wears clings to him like a second skin, and the gap between it and the top of his pants reveals his toned stomach, flexing now as he presses his hips against your thigh. he whines softly as you knock his knees apart and slide your leg between his with a teasing grin.

"no need to play coy, beautiful," you purr, digging your palms into the edge of the table. "if you want it, just ask."

"but where's the fun in that?" he gasps as you nip the soft skin of his neck, canines making reds and purples bloom across his sun-kissed skin. "o-oh – y-you know you shouldn't do that, baby. not so high."

with a furrowed brow, you growl softly, slowly rocking your thigh against him. "rules, rules, rules... why does he dictate your life like this? scared of being tossed aside?"

taehyung shakes his head, his head falling back with a moan. for someone who doesn't like being marked up, he sure does make it easy. he exhales as your breath trails up his throat and over his jaw. "he's not. he doesn't."

"yet you pretend as if we've never met when he's around, and you don't say anything when he forbids you from working with your hands. he thinks you should stay clean and pretty because he likes it that way. he holds you back, and you let him."

you punctuate your words with a fist around his throat, slowly pressing in. the flush that'd dusted his chest and neck while working the knife spreads to the apples of his cheeks, sweet and shy. his breath catches, and he looks up at you through the dark forest of his lashes.

you can almost understand jimin's rules. someone as beautiful as him shouldn't need to mar his skin with stains and calluses. that he still desires it – desires to delve deep into the marrow of mortality, watch it squeeze out between his knuckles – turns your stomach, in sickness or adoration.

"i'm sorry," taehyung nearly whimpers, panting short and shallow as his blood-slick hands scramble at your shoulders and chest. his eyes are black with lust and his pulse throbs under your fingers. "i know. i just don't want to upset him. i care about him."

you don't look away when you grab one of his hands, resting over your heart. you lift his knuckles to your lips and, under the heavy haze of hunger, he watches as you wrap your lips around two of his fingers. your cheeks hollow, and your tongue swirls slowly around each joint, as if savouring more than the iron taste.

he swallows thickly as the hand around his throat shifts, less to choke and more to pull close. his heartbeat thuds at the back of his throat.

pinned between your body and the table, the tiny shed door locked behind you, he realises suddenly what it must feel like to be your prey. you have a visceral animal strength about you, muscles like steel cable wound tight, always on the brink of snapping. only the patience of a tiger in wait keeps the mask from slipping, breaking.

your canines graze his finger, held firm in the heat of your mouth. the look in your eye says it wouldn't take much to release that perfectly wound tension, to let the slick nubs of your teeth open him up.

the look in his eyes invites you to.

eventually, you pull away, a satisfied smile splitting your face. you crush your lips against his, nicking his lower lip, and he moans at the warm iron flooding his mouth. greedily, your tongue laps at the stinging cut.

"fuckin' perfect," you husk, gaze flickering down to the red smeared over his throat and jaw, then further down to the obvious bulge in his pants. you snicker. "hm. need help with that?"

"please." he reaches down, as if to undo the buttons right there and then.

you grab his wrists and tut. "sweetheart, not over our dinner. you know better than that."

he groans. "it's your fault for driving me crazy!"

in response, you just laugh and grab the bowls of steaks. it's a surprisingly light sound even though you were ready to eat him up mere moments ago. "come on, then. we've got all the good cuts already. head in and put these in the fridge; i'll deal with the carcass. i'll be quick, i promise."

"you better be," he mutters, loosening the latch on the door. "i'll kill you otherwise."

when you open the door to your bedroom, halfway through drying your hands on a tea towel, you are greeted by the sight of an angel on your bed, long slender legs spread just for you. you toss the towel onto a nearby chair and lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms. you let out a slow, appreciative wolf whistle, smirking when taehyung's eyes snap open and he bolts upright. he relaxes at the sight of you, one hand already slipping back between his thighs.

"you're not much of a gentleman, leaving me alone to entertain myself. you have to make it up to me."

"demanding little thing." you click your tongue, leaving the door open and approaching him on the bed. he leans back against the piled-up pillows, sighing softly as his fingers slip back inside himself. they do so with whorish ease, and the smoky darkness of his gaze is smug.

a challenge, then? you can do that.

your fingers glide over the back of a chair, slow and thoughtful. you drag it to the end of the bed and straighten it to face him. he shivers slightly in the warm night as you take a seat, leaning back and spreading your knees. one hand rests casually on your leg and the other props itself up on the armrest, curled in a loose fist.

he pulls his fingers out slightly. you snicker at the confusion in his flickering gaze. "what are you getting up for? i was just getting comfy."

"i—" he falters. almost indifferently, his fingers glide in and out of himself, keeping himself hard while he gathers his thoughts. "but you promised you'd fuck me tonight... killing always did rile you up, red-blooded beast that you are."

"beast?" you parrot, exaggerating a pout. "aw – and here i was, thinkin' i was more than an impressive cock to you." you run your thumb over your nails, your eyes flicking to his open legs and sticking there as he pulls his fingers out to pump his dick twice, thrice. his hand travels back down. "no. i promised no such thing. after all, you've got a date with your pretty boy tomorrow, yeah? don't want him wondering why you're so loose for him, do you?"

he whimpers softly at the mention of it. his fingers dig deeper inside him, upping the pace, and his cock pulses with need. "n-no... i-i mean, i could just say i got a bigger toy..."

"oh, no, sweetheart – if you like a man, never tell them your toy is bigger than them. 'specially them rich types. they bruise easily." you sigh softly, thumb gliding over the edge of your jawline. his twitching cock blushes under the hunger of your gaze and his hole clenches. "you'll just have to wait it out. patiently."

"but i want you." he gasps, the wet squelch of lube making everything ten times dirtier. his breath quickens and he adds a third finger, shuddering at the stretch. "ah– baby, please, i've already been doing this for ages—"

"i didn't ask you to."

"your fingers are thicker than mine," he whines, eyes growing big and ever-so-slightly teary. he's good, you'll give him that. the slight lip tremble, the shaky breaths. you could make him cry properly. he's always been a pretty crier. you wonder if his eyeliner will run.

he sinks his fingers in until the knuckle and he moans, bucking onto his fingers. "god, won't you just fuck me already? why touch yourself when you can touch me? i can see how hard you are!"

you lift your hand off the bulge in your jeans and undo your belt teasingly, thoughtfully – as if you might take him up on that tasty, tasty offer. you lean back in the chair and exhale softly as you free yourself from the confines of your underwear. your cock taps your stomach and taehyung keens, unable to tear his eyes off of it as you wrap your hand around its base, stroking shallowly.

"w-wait," he gasps, beginning to pull his fingers out, "wait, i wanna – let me—"

"no," you say sharply, movements halting. "sit back. i didn't tell you to stop."

"but i can—"

"taehyung."

he quietens, chastened but obedient. he gnaws on his lower lip as his hand returns to its rightful place. he quivers as he watches your palm smooth over your tip and slide back down, precome bubbling from the slit. he can feel his own smearing over his bare stomach, hotter than his warm skin.

instinct takes over. over and over. over and over.

he's such a good boy for you – he's wasted on a creature like jimin. then again, are you really better than him? just the same, you've denied him his basest needs. to part flesh with steel, impart bliss with lust – you've just dropped one piece of control for another.

no. you can be better. you are better.

taehyung gasps sharply as you all but lunge at him, pinning him to the bed by his throat. his golden hair haloes him on the crumpled white blankets, like a gilded apollo so gently posed against marble. he blinks slowly up at you, eyes soft with worship and dark with desire, and kisses the thumb tracing the cupid's bow of his lips, a hand curled around your wrist. the other reaches for you.

you groan softly as he pumps your cock, twisting his wrist expertly. your belt buckle clinks and he giggles, eagerly reciprocating your greed. he hooks his legs loosely around your thighs.

"and you were the one preaching patience," he hums as you lean away to tug your shirt over your head. it gets tossed into a corner without so much as a glance and taehyung flushes at the view, half-lidded gaze raking every inch of revealed skin like a man starved. "oh..."

"how many times have you seen me shirtless?"

"not enough." he grabs your hand and pulls you into him, his hands locking behind your head and tugging you into a heated kiss. "you're also not bloody enough for my liking."

without waiting for a response, his teeth clamp down in the junction between your neck and shoulder, where the meat is soft and muscle is taut.

pain blooms like a shard of ice, sudden and sharp. a decisive movement, it left no room for bruising. taehyung groans, guttural, and digs his teeth in deeper, if only to keep the wound open for longer. his fingernails print stinging crescents into your biceps and he whimpers, eyes rolling back, as you shove his head into your neck, forcing the blood down his throat.

melting heat and iron, the sharp tang dissolving into sweetness – his tongue laps at the oozing wound, the arc of his teeth imprinted forever into your skin until the white of your bones will gleam under the midday sun.

when you allow him to pull away, his eyes are black, dazed and blissful. he smiles from ear to ear, teeth red and stained down the chin and throat, and crushes his lips against yours, tangling your hair in his grip and moaning sinfully loudly. his cock throbs, crushed between your bodies, and he bucks against your shaft, the vein on the underside catching against the ridge of your tip with a shuddering bolt of pleasure.

"i'm yours! i'm yours, all yours," he whispers fervently, obsessively. his tongue swipes over his lower lip, the oily heat marking him just like a sheep bloodying the muzzle of a wolf.

he smiles. he laughs. he presses your foreheads together, his stomach slick with his orgasm, and kisses you again, this time sitting upright in your arms.

"you're good to me. so, so good to me." he leaves the print of his lips against your throat and jaw like a jealous girlfriend, your own blood a perfect valentines' red. "fuck me – please? or i could suck you off, if you're still worried about tomor—oh!"

you flip him over and pull his hips towards you, slotted perfectly between your thighs. his own shine with excess lube and you push your cock between his plush thighs, thrusting impatiently to coat it. over his shoulder, he watches, wide-eyed, as you drag a few fingers up your chest towards your shoulder – towards the red bite mark leaking down your chest.

you smear the blood on your cock. taehyung's core throbs – his back arches. he nearly screams as you yank him onto your cock, burying yourself hilt-deep in not-enough thrusts. his mouth falls open as the burn sears its way up his spine and caresses his brain. he swears he can feel you in his throat.

"fuck! fu-fuck," he burbles, crying out as you set a steady pace, your hips slapping against his ass. you push his knees together with your own and his eyes show their whites, mouth open in a perpetual moan. he buries the chants into the pillow, staining it with blood, and his knuckles whiten around fistfuls of blanket as your cock scrapes his insides so deliciously, stabbing and thudding against his prostate. "fuck, oh my god, fuckfuckfuck—!"

you click your tongue, gaze glued to the point where you meet. "you've got a mouth on you, haven't ya? should fuck you until you forget how to talk. that'll clean you right up, nice and ready for your little boytoy. would you like that, sweetheart?"

"fuck, daddy, please, yes please," he whines, letting the pillow swallow the rest of his sounds. the ricochet of skin on skin echoes loudly in the cosy bedroom, and his cock throbs as it swings between his creamy thighs. shit, you could watch the ripple of his ass until the day you died, and none of it would be wasted time. you're beginning to suspect he has a stronger hold on you than you thought.

your shoulder stings like a bolt of clarity and you growl, grabbing and pulling his hips to meet your thrusts. he whimpers at the sound. "what an obedient pup. a little eager, but i s'pose that's normal, given that tonight was your first time." you huff and slap his thigh, making him yowl and his hips jerk. "wasted, you are. such steady hands. i could use someone like you."

"y-yes, yes, use me – ah, ah – love being used! mmn—!"

"not quite what i was saying, but i'll let it slide." you slam your hips into him and he chokes on it, letting his head falls limply to the pillow. he hasn't felt your cock in so, so long – he can't believe he'd almost forgotten how good it felt, how it filled him up just right to knock his brains out. you gripped him so tightly, too, as if he might get up and leave at any time – but you should know by now that he'll always be the one running back to you, that sick glint in your eye only making him swoon harder.

you had a few bad habits, sure. a few dark fantasies. but so did taehyung. and now he had your blood in him – your essence, the purest part of you – which could never be taken away, even if the elders found out about your relationship. they could take you, but not the part of you that you'd planted deep inside him. they'd never be able to dig it all out. you were a rot to their perfectly-tended garden, and taehyung wouldn't let you be cut out so easily – not when you were so sweet on the tongue.

he licks his lips, the faint taste of what remains fluttering his heart. he'd been careless with his moans, the cries of your name like a prayer. he found so many little deaths with you, and the best ones came screaming.

suddenly, emptiness – you pull away, hand slipping out of his. you halt, stiller than the dead.

hoarsely, taehyung whispers your name, a whine on the tip of his tongue. "n-no... so close, was so close, please..." he turns around.

his heart drops like a stone.

"hello," says jimin, in a voice like silk.

"baby, put the knife down," taehyung stammers, all pleasure doused by the sight of that too-big blade pressed up against your throat. "don't."

"why should i?" he adjusts it, nicking a fine pink line beneath your ear. red beads along it like a string of pearls. "he's a killer. he must be cleansed, same as the rest."

unconsciously, taehyung wipes his mouth, as if your influence on him could be removed so easily. he can still feel the heat of it pulsing against his lips. "but he's mine."

you roll your eyes, hands open and half-raised. of all the things he could've said...

yet, it seems to give him pause. the kitchen knife almost loosens – almost. he tugs your hair roughly, punishingly, and you grunt as the blade whispers against your skin. you have half a mind to teach him a bloody hard lesson, but taehyung might not like that.

"wait!" taehyung darts forward, hand outstretched. he slumps on the bed in front of jimin, gripping the sheets. "how – how did you find us?"

"i followed your ex," jimin replies, observing the wet blood painting half of your chest. the red against your skin is rather pretty... and it's in the shape of taehyung's teeth. "this mark is good at covering his tracks. not so much for those of others."

taehyung's eyes widen. no. you promised to stay away from his ex! then again, he never did see the face of the meat he was cutting up... and you weren't one to be one-upped by the likes of jimin.

"he's not a mark," he pleads, "not officially. he could join us! how many people has he already killed? how long did it take for you to realise? you only found him because he was too rash with this one."

jimin's eyes narrow. "all that tells me is that he grew cocky and let his guard down."

"the mark was cruel to me. he did it for me," taehyung implores, his eyes earnest. "he loves me. and i love him. put down the knife. initiate him."

you frown. initiate?

for a long time, jimin says nothing. he doesn't move.

he lifts the knife. taehyung's eyes widen.

he raises his hands in surrender. he huffs and crosses his arms, drumming his fingers against his arm as he cocks a hip. his skirt and knitted vest give him the impression of a private-school kid, although the short sleeves of the dress shirt seem a touch too tight to be unaltered. he wears a shiny pair of tall, heeled mary janes, but you hadn't heard him until the knife was at your throat. odd.

"fine," he drawls, eyeing you with a slight curl to his upper lip. "you have two minutes to convince me. you're so lucky i like you, tae. wh—i mean, why do you even care? you said he wasn't your type."

"well," he searches carefully for the right words, "things change. and he fucks me the way i like it. you can't tell that from a glance."

jimin's gaze strays briefly downwards, over the shine of blood and flexing muscle. you're still hard, and when his gaze flicks up to meet yours, your lips twitch up into a smirk. you adjust your undone jeans and cross your arms.

eventually, jimin steps closer, reaching out curiously to prod at the bite mark. ruby red oozes, and he watches closely as your eyes flutter briefly shut. his tongue glides over his glossy lower lip. "hm... but he's still a killer. i don't know what makes him more useful to me alive."

it's as if a lightbulb flashes over taehyung's head.

he leans forward, resting a hand on your thigh. he tilts his head against your hip. "maybe you can... try him. see from my perspective."

"i'm not getting on my knees," jimin scowls immediately, "not for a sinner."

"but you don't mind it when i do?"

jimin opens his mouth. he closes it. he throws his hands in the air, knife waving around carelessly. "we're not the same! i'm already doing you a kindness by letting him live this long. i should be flaying him right now for tainting your body with his filth. you're supposed to be pure. unsullied."

"pure?" you repeat, scoffing. you can only stay quiet for so long. "oh, you lot are crazy-crazy. worse than me."

his eyes narrow and his knuckles whiten on the knife handle. taehyung shoves himself between you, gripping your hand in his own. "no! stop it, both of you! if you kill each other, who's gonna take care of me? i'm still hard."

he's the perfect height for you. you prop your chin on his shoulder with a lazy grin, wrapping your arms loosely around his waist. you play with his cock, making his breath stutter. "you're right as always, sweetheart... how cruel is he for cockblocking you? you deserve everything in the world and more..."

jimin's fingers twitch. taehyung bucks shallowly against you, but you keep him firmly in place as you stroke his cock, already sensitive. you kiss his neck. you haven't taken your eyes off of jimin.

he presses his thighs together as taehyung lets out a soft whimper.

"come on, sweet thing," you croon into his ear, cupping his chest and grazing his nipple. "don't you want my cock?"

gulping, he tries not to show how affected he is by the hardness pressing against his ass. "a-ah, um..."

"what was that?" you flick your wrist roughly and taehyung's eyes shoot open. blood fills his mouth from a bitten cut in his cheek.

nervously, he lifts his eyes to jimin's. his gaze is fixed on your hand and the way it engulfs taehyung's cock, flicking over his slit and grazing the veins with your nails. "i want – i w-want..."

"say it, tae."

the words come not from your lips, but jimin's. two fingers slip into taehyung's ass and he jolts with a sweet moan as you curl them.

"i want your cock," he rushes out in one breath. "fuck, i want it so bad."

"even more than your boyfriend's?" your words are sly, coated in a thick layer of faux innocence. "why?"

taehyung doesn't bother answering. you know the answer – so does jimin. he turns in your arms and cups your face in his hands, bringing you down for a desperate, hungry kiss. you thrust your fingers into his hole and he jerks, clamping down around you. you swallow his moans, pumping your fingers teasingly.

"i wonder," you drawl, kissing a trail up taehyung's neck, "if he likes watching. maybe that's why he doesn't want to date you. he wants to sit back and watch as other men ruin your pretty little body – after all, it's hard to enjoy the faces you make when preoccupied with doing all the real work."

the sharp intake of breath and the way he clenches around you tells you what you want to hear. he looks up at you with those dark, dark eyes, his breath quick and shallow, and leans into it when you sit him down on the bed with a creak. swiftly, he turns over, arching his back and wiggling his ass. he gazes back at you with huge eyes as you remove your pants. he's almost shy – though the twitching cock leaking down his thigh is anything but. red and angry, it demands attention.

you glance at jimin. the knife's still in his hand, but the thought of it seems secondary to the sight of taehyung on his hands and knees. you can hardly blame him.

from the edge of the bed, you grab the bottle of lube taehyung had brought with him. you slather a generous amount onto your cock and push a few fingers into taehyung with the remnants, exhaling softly as he pushes his hips back against your knuckles.

"my perfect boy." you scissor your fingers, then slide them out. "c'mon – don't be shy. show your dear jimin how well i stretch you out."

he glances your way sharply. you're already staring at him, grinning in the airheaded, cocky, handsome way that all popular boys seem to know intrinsically. the soft lips, the blood, the way you manoeuvre taehyung's body around yours as if he's a prop to make you look better... every jock knows that rising in the ranks means he needs to talk louder than the next guy, take up more space than the next guy, have prettier girls on his arms than the next guy. they say confidence is key, but that's only good at pool parties where nobody wants to really call anyone's bluff.

you're the only one who does it right. you're the only one with a cock to match that body.

taehyung exhales shakily as he reaches back and parts his asscheeks, fingers digging harder than necessary into the plump meat. he hides his burning face in the sheets as jimin steps closer, and his breath quickens as you tap your cock against his ass, teasing his hole with your tip.

"cute, isn't he? surprisingly sweet, too. thought he'd be more of a brat when i first saw him," you hum, casually stuffing your cock into him in one smooth movement. taehyung yelps and lets out a quivery little moan, his slick walls clenching around your thick cock. he sounds like he's trying not to cry – you sigh patiently and pet his hair before your hands return to their rightful places on his hips to pull him onto you.

his body jolts with each thrust, his muffled cries breathy and whiny. his ass ripples with the slap of your hips. on a particularly rough thrust which has him seeing stars, he whimpers out a "daddy" that has jimin's breath hitching audibly.

"good, baby," you husk, palms gliding down his body appreciatively. you slap his ass – so hard your palm stings – and he chokes, already-wobbly knees giving out beneath him. he catches himself just in time but the angle has your cock driving deeper inside him, oscillating wildly from kissing his prostate to fucking his brain out his ears.

you grab a fistful of his hair and loom over him, your lips brushing his earlobe. his spine arches when you tug roughly, his eyes rolling to show their whites as your cock throbs inside him, each thrust wet and slick. "tell him how you feel, whore," you murmur, soft but loud enough for your voice to carry. he gasps sharply at the title and his aching cock leaks like a faucet into a puddle of his own precome. he shakes his head, embarrassment hot in his core.

you tilt your head. "maybe i'll even let you suck him off."

"it f-feels good," he cries immediately. the quick, precise slapping of skin on skin echoes in the room. "i love your cock! i love tay-taking cock, love being fucked by big cocks – oh god! – 'n' yours is the biggest! love getting stretched wide on your dick, getting fucked 'til it hurts—! i-i never wanna come off, mm, i love being your cockslut – wanna be your bitch, your toy, all yours—" you bury yourself balls-deep in his guts and his mouth falls open, thick white come spurting from his tip; it's almost humiliating how you can make him finish without a single brush against his dick. he smiles, broad and wobbly. "ohhh..."

you peck his cheek, pressing against his back low and heavy like an animal. you grip his jaw. "coming already? don't go passing out on me," you chide, tilting his head in jimin's direction. "look at him. look. there we go. see how hard he is? he must like how obedient you get with me – with your daddy."

heat floods his body to the marrow. you've never used that title on yourself before – it's always been taehyung's thing, something you don't mind only because it's him. the raking burn of pleasure hurts, blooming from his cock all the way up his spine and out to his fingers and toes.

possession. it spins in taehyung's jumbled mind. you fuck him like you want to bruise your name inside him, forcing him to think of you and only you even when jimin sits on that chair in front of him, a perfectly manicured hand wrapped around his leaking length, just begging to be touched.

briefly, taehyung wonders how you might fuck jimin. he's giving you his infamous bedroom eyes, but there's an acrid darkness that taints his gaze. jealousy? inadequacy? scorn? taehyung's thighs are hot and sticky.

maybe you'd be rougher with him, tie him up and fold him in half with his legs over your shoulders. even as he distantly obeys your whispered order to open his mouth, and even as jimin slides his velvety cock between his lips, he can't stop imagining you behind jimin, manhandling him and forcing him to ride you to get off, even though jimin's such a pillow princess.

you grip taehyung's hips, sweat shining on your skin. you spread his ass and thrust deeper, smirking when he jerks forward, choking down the rest of jimin's dick and ripping a pleasured curse from his throat.

taehyung's limbs feel like jelly. he braces against jimin's hip, hooking his thumb under the hem of jimin's skirt to pin it back. as he sinks down on his cock, he chances a glance up.

rid of his little sweater vest and unbuttoned down to the navel, jimin does very little to chase his high. he meets taehyung's eyes and tilts his head slightly – he's almost perfectly still, and the only thing he does is gather his skirt in a fist. your quick, snapping pace sets taehyung's, and it's only by the blown pupils and pink-tinged cheeks that taehyung knows he's doing well.

"so," you begin, and your voice is remarkably steady. "did you come here intending to kill me?"

"please, i barely know who you are. there are others—" his breath catches, and he closes his eyes to steady himself "—others who're more deserving of atonement than you. which isn't to say i thought you a paragon of virtue – you're a handsome guy on a sports team, and sin comes to your type like moths to a flame. i knew i'd come to collect eventually, but you surprised me. congrats – not many can."

"did you watch?" you ask, patting taehyung's ass almost fondly. "he did so well with the – what did you call him? your mark? did you see how beautiful he looked, nearly orgasmic as he cut him open and warmed his hands with his blood? you must enjoy it, too – seeing the life fade from your victims' eyes. otherwise, you would've culled me the moment i took your kill."

his eyes narrow. "you're sick."

you laugh. "y'know, you and your little 'cult' aren't slick. i saw how pretty girls and guys don't shy away from the forest or the nasty parts of town because what they can do far outweighs the shard of glass a cokehead waves around. i thought it was a creative writing exercise gone crazy, something to explain the unusual disappearances around here. it was good for me, though. nobody'll raise a fuss if one more douchebag goes missing."

"i should kill you now."

"but then sweet little taehyung would be upset – you heard him." you pout. "besides, you must've liked something about me or you would've gotten rid of me as soon as i ravaged your favourite boytoy. do you have a thing for corruption? is that why you stayed, watched him come as soon as he tasted my blood? if you like, i'll let him bite the other side."

he pulls taehyung's throat down on his cock by his hair. taehyung eagerly laps up every throbbing inch he receives, nails digging into jimin's ass. he jolts and gags slightly as hot come pours down his throat without warning – his eyes flutter shut as his throat bobs, lips pressed against jimin's base.

"oh, i like you," you purr, something of a song lilting your voice. "are you as angry when you take cock, i wonder?"

"try it, i dare you."

you turn your attention to taehyung, who sits jimin's cock in his mouth like a good boy. he suckles softly, dazed and faraway. his walls are soft and hot, each gummy ridge stroking and clamping around you to pull you in as deep as possible when you finally, finally come, forcing him over the precipice as well for the nth time that night.

you pet his hair and he leans into it, moaning as you gently pull out, letting him sink into the mattress. thick come drips down his inner thigh, pooling in the dips of the bed. softly, you groan, gathering yourself and lavishing kisses upon kisses over his neck and shoulder. "what do you think, baby? should i fuck the cultist freak?"

taehyung pops off wetly, licking his lips. his chest heaves. it's hard to scoop his brain up off the floor, but the thought of the two people hottest people he knows putting on a show, all for him? "p-please..."

you raise your eyes, and meet jimin's glare with a smirk. "you heard him. don't wanna disappoint, do we?"

"you think you deserve to fuck me? after everything you've done? you don't even kill for a reason," he scoffs. "you're no better than an animal."

"what is it with you and prettyboy here thinking i'm less than human? you cower behind your righteous moral justifications when you take a life and hold me to the same standards, but animals don't have morals. i can only be one, baby, so choose."

jimin glowers.

"you've got me in a box," he admits eventually, and his expression twists as your smile turns gloating. "shut up. you can fuck me – just this once."

"those are dangerous gambling words," you tease, but lay back against the headboard, one hand behind your head and the other wrapping around the base of your cock. your absence above him makes taehyung blink – hard – before he shuffles after you like a sleepy puppy and buries his face in your shoulder.

his thighs still twitch every now and again, and he lifts his unfocussed gaze to meet jimin's. it clears, just enough, for a fat, satisfied grin to spread across his face and he shifts to spread his shaky legs, showing off the warm glazed mess between his thighs like a piece of art.

jimin's cock throbs. taehyung grins lazily, knowingly, eyes half-lidded and hungry. he slides your slick cock between the vee of his fingers and flicks his wrist. a pearl of precome beads along your slit and follows the line of a vein, gathering eventually along taehyung's slender finger.

unwise, a voice whispers in his head, regal and maternal, yet youthful.

with a sigh too breathy to be accidental, taehyung splays his fingers over his lips and tilts his head back, taking one finger at a time against his scarlet tongue to clean it. his lashes graze his cheeks. his eyes are black corridors of velvet, and he gives jimin's invisible leash a tug with a curl of his pretty fingers.

it was never that taehyung made it too hard to say no. he made it far too easy to say yes.

[nenestansunsthings]

having svsss au ideas beyond my station

thinking. shang qinghua goes on a mission as a young disciple to some town in fuckoff nowhere and finds himself in the qiu household. and there he finds a young shen jiu, undergoing the plot he originally intended for him and hadn't realised had become real and he's so young oh god hes so young why is he so small what do you mean that part was real, he hadn't kept it why is it real—

and he panics and sneaks him the Fuck out of that house

and he's not sure what to do but surely sending him to cang qiong will fuck up something in the plot and he can't come under even more investigation and cang qiong tryouts dont happen for months anyway and his system would probably never allow it (it doesnt. it would interfere with yue qingyuans story) but shen jiu is refusing to stay anywhere near this place and wants to learn cultivating to protect himself make sure nothing like this ever happens again and sqh panics harder and

calls mobei jun.

okay. on second thought, maybe this was a bad idea. but he stumbles over himself and shushes baby shen jiu's very understandable freaking out and asks his king for the first thing hes ever asked for other than his own life.

is there any way this human child could learn cultivation in the demon world?

[roosterforme]

Batting Practice Part 24 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley senses you're giving him the cold shoulder. He hates waking up alone, especially on his birthday. But the rec league tryouts and a shopping trip with Everett hopefully puts him one step closer to what he really wants. 

Warnings: Fluff, smut, angst and swearing

Length: 3800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

Bradley woke up alone in his bed on his birthday. Sure, it was a work day for the two of you, but he couldn't help but feel like you'd become a little distant with him since Sunday evening. 

He wanted to move in with you and Everett, but it wasn't that simple. It was actually complicated as hell. And now he was thinking he shouldn't have been getting Everett's hopes up about it.

Things were moving fast. Probably too fast. Bradley was all in, but he didn't know if you'd even want to take things to the next level with him. Yeah, you wanted him to move in, but he wanted you to be his family. But you'd been married before, and there was no doubt that Danny had probably ruined that entire experience for you.

And not only had Bradley never moved this fast before, he'd also never thought about buying a ring before. He'd barely had girlfriends who lasted longer than a damn month, always bailing as soon as it was clear his feelings were nowhere near as strong as his partner's.

He wasn't sure exactly why you were different, but you were. He wanted to stick around. And he didn't like waking up alone anymore. And now he convinced himself to stop for a little birthday treat, but the Starbucks took so long, he was going to be late for work.

"Damn it," he growled. You had better coffee at your house, but you hadn't invited him to stay over the past few nights. 

Tryouts for the Navy baseball league were being held this evening. Bradley packed the red and white striped Phillies socks you and Everett gave him for his birthday for good luck. When he had asked yesterday if the two of you would be able to come watch, you'd given a vague answer about work and picking Ev up from summer camp.

Bradley drank his hot coffee too fast and had to practically run to the simulation room to get there on time. "Happy birthday," Nat crooned when he walked in out of breath. "Wow, you look like shit today."

"Thanks?" He was already grouchy, and now he had to sit by his best friend who was notoriously annoying when he was in a bad mood. But luckily Admiral Simpson was calling everyone to attention. 

After hours of testing out new simulation software, only stopping for a soggy sandwich for lunch, Bradley's mood hadn't improved. He missed it when you packed his lunch for him. You had sent him a text that said Happy Birthday! which he supposed was a good thing, but he wanted you telling him you couldn't wait to see him later. If you and Ev weren't at the tryout, then what was the point? He really only sent an application because he knew Ev wanted him to play in the first place.

"You ready to pitch?" Bob asked him with a grin in the locker room after they had been dismissed for the day. 

"Yeah," Bradley grunted.

He watched Bob's smile turn to a frown. "If you want to play shortstop instead, I'm sure nobody will care. I thought you were looking forward to this."

"I am," Bradley said, trying to sound reassuring. 

Bob hummed. "I can't wait to see Molly. I've barely seen her since Sunday with her work schedule, but she promised me she would be there."

And now Bradley was scared you wouldn't show.

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

You rushed out of work, your high heels clicking across the tile floor in the lobby. Thirty minutes. You had thirty minutes to pick Everett up and drive across town to get to Bradley's baseball tryout on time. 

As you drove to get Ev, you thought maybe this was why he didn't want to move in with you; everything you did was on the other side of the city from everything he did. Or, you thought, perhaps Bradley just didn't feel comfortable in your house yet. Or maybe he just really didn't want to be around you and your son all day, every day. But it didn't really matter, because your feelings were hurt. And you were finding it hard to be happy for Molly and Bob now. 

When Everett got in the car, the first words out of his mouth were, "Are we going to the tryout? Did you bring my sign?"

You nodded and told him, "Yeah, we can go. Your sign is in the trunk." He had spent an hour last night coloring on some poster board, making a sign so he could cheer for Bradley. 

"It's starting soon!" he whined as you drove as quickly as you could. The tryouts were being held at a beautiful facility near the naval base, and you actually got there with a few minutes to spare. Everett was out of the car and opening your trunk before you even grabbed your sneakers off the passenger side floor. 

"Calm down, Ev. It didn't start yet." You and he walked past Bradley's Bronco, and once you got onto the soft grass, you changed into your other shoes while you walked.

"I'm going to get a spot on the bleachers!" Everett called, running ahead of you. But your eyes caught on Bradley and Bob, standing next to each other and leaning on the chest high chainlink fence. They were facing away from you, looking out over the infield. You had missed Bradley all week, and you knew that you needed to get over the way you felt. He was right; you could revisit that conversation later. Right now, you just wanted him to come home with you and stay all night. You had cupcakes waiting for him just in case.

You were approaching them, ready to surprise him with a huge birthday hug, when you heard Bob ask Bradley, "Think you'll move in with them?"

Bradley took his backwards cap off, and you froze as he ran his hand through his hair. "I think we're holding off for now," he said, turning his cap the other way before leaning on the fence again.

"Why?" Bob asked. "Everett seems to think you'd make a great roommate. He said he wants you to move into their extra bedroom." He chuckled, but Bradley shook his head. Your heart was pounding, and you wanted to walk away, but you just couldn't. So you stood there with your high heels in one hand, feeling like you were going to cry.

"It's not that easy," Bradley said softly. "There's a lot to consider. I know Ev's excited about the idea of it, but the reality would be that his mom's boyfriend would be living there. I just don't know if it's what I should do."

Then Bob asked the question that popped into your mind. "Do you still have reservations? About Everett?"

"Hell no, man!" Bradley said loudly. He sounded angry. "No! I love that kid more than anything. I'd love to be his dad someday. I'd adopt him tomorrow. I just want to do right by both of them. And I'm not exactly sure what that means."

You were dizzy. His words hit you right in the chest. Your mouth was hanging open and you felt out of breath. He was talking about adopting Everett like he'd already made his mind up. 

"That makes sense," Bob said. "Does she know how you feel?"

Bradley was quiet for a few seconds. "She knows I love her. I told her I'm not going anywhere. I'm ready for more commitment."

You ran up behind him, closing the short distance and squeezing him around the waist from behind. 

"Kitten!" He turned, and then you were hugging him with your face smashed to his chest, smiling so hard.

"Happy birthday," you mumbled, kissing him just above the collar of his tee shirt. "I love you."

"I love you, too," he immediately replied, rubbing his big hands along the back of your suit coat and kissing the top of your head. 

You turned your head and said, "Hi, Bob." But then a loud whistle filled the air and you looked up at Bradley. 

He kissed you hard on the lips before he said, "Time for tryouts, Kitten."

"Will you sleep over later?" you blurted out as he pulled free of your grasp. 

He smiled and kissed the top of your head again. Then he bent and picked up his gear bag. "That would make me so happy." 

As he stepped onto the field with Bob, you called out, "You can do it, Coach!"

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

Bradley was sweating. It was hot, and he was nervous. "It's just for fun," he muttered to himself as he stood on the pitcher's mound. "Just a rec league." Then he threw a slider to the catcher and let out the breath he had been holding. When he glanced to his right, he saw Everett sitting between you and Molly, and he was holding up a sign that made Bradley smile.

GO COACH BRADLEY!

He did not want to let that kid down, so he threw a decent fastball for his second pitch. He could hear you and Everett cheering for him as he threw a changeup. The catcher gave him a thumbs up before throwing the ball back, and Bradley was starting to feel good now. So threw two more sliders, and he just kept getting better. 

When the coach asked him to throw one more pitch, he went with a curveball. And then it was time for batting, and on his very first swing, he hit a home run.

He was a bit stunned, but he could hear Everett freaking out, so he ran the bases for fun while Bob and some of the other guys gave him high fives down the third baseline. 

"Damn, you played in college didn't you?" the coach asked as Bradley picked up his bat once again. 

"Yeah," he said with a laugh.

"That was an impressive hit. You've got a great arm, too."

"I actually used to play shortstop," Bradley told him, adjusting his hat and getting ready to bat again.

"Well if you want to pitch, then you made the team."

Bradley looked over to Everett and then back to the coach. "Seriously? I already made the team?"

"Definitely."

Bradley tried to reel in his smile as he hit a few more balls and then went to sit on the bench while someone else tried their hand at batting. But he just couldn't wait to get up on the bleachers and tell Everett that he made the summer league team.

Bradley waited for the tryouts to officially end, hoping Bob would make the team too. His fellow aviator was fast and always seemed to make the catches in the outfield look like a walk in the park. When Bob joined him in the dugout, they stood next to each other, awaiting the final roster from the coach. 

"First base: Hamilton. Second Base: McPhee. Shortstop: Yang. Third base: Ruiz. Catcher: Hernandez. Pitcher: Bradshaw. Relief pitcher: Matthews."

Bob elbowed Bradley in the side and smiled at him. 

"Right field: Merrick. Left field: Wiley. Centerfield: Floyd. I'll post some bench positions as well. Thanks for trying out." 

Then the coach handed each of the starting players a navy blue and white cap. Once they were dismissed, Bradley had Bob in a tight hug. 

"I didn't know you'd be this excited, Rooster," Bob said with a laugh. "You made pitcher!"

"Oh, man," Bradley said, slapping him on the back before letting go. "I missed playing. You were right. This is going to be so much fun."

"You just want to show off for your girlfriend," Bob told him, slipping the cap on his head.

"You just want to show off for your girlfriend," Bradley replied, rolling his eyes and gathering his glove and bat together. Then he slipped his cap on as well, and they climbed out of the dugout, side by side. 

"I'm so in love with her," Bob mumbled, and Bradley saw Molly standing next to you and Everett, waving to Bob like she couldn't wait to see him. Then he looked at you, and Bradley's heart started pounding. But it was Everett running toward him with the poster board that really made Bradley smile. 

"Did you make the team?" he asked, and Bradley scooped him up in a hug. 

"Well they gave us these hats," Bradley said, putting his on Everett's head. "What do you think?"

"They made the team!" Everett shouted to you and Molly. Bradley carried your son over to you and kissed your lips. 

"We knew you would," you told him as you wrapped your arms around him and Everett. "You were so good, Coach."

"It's your birthday and you made the team!" Everett said, wrapping his arms around Bradley's neck. 

This was exactly how Bradley always wanted to be. He felt comfortable, welcome, safe and loved. He kissed Everett's cheek and nodded. "It's a pretty great day."

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

Everyone followed you back to your house, and you were thankful you had taken the time to get those birthday cupcakes for Bradley. He ended up tossing some hot dogs and burgers on the grill in your backyard, even though you told him you didn't mind cooking his birthday dinner.

"Go relax," Bradley told you, nodding toward your deck where Molly and Bob were blowing bubbles with Everett. "I'll take care of it." He kissed you and sipped his beer before flipping the burgers. 

You patted his butt in his snug baseball pants and whispered, "And later, I'll take care of you." His smirk as you walked away had you giggling. 

When you ate dinner on the deck as the evening sky darkened, you watched Everett where he sat on Bradley's lap eating a burger. "Are you going to get to throw all kinds of pitches? Are you going to start every game?"

Bradley held a napkin so Everett's ketchup wouldn't drip and answered every single question. He never seemed annoyed. He never gave you the impression that your son was irritating him. They seemed like they were cut from the same cloth, and honestly it made your heart skip wildly every single time.

"Yep, I get to work with the catcher about which pitches I should throw," Bradley told him. "And I get to start the games."

Then Bradley turned and smiled at you when Everett started interrogating Bob across the table. 

"I love you." The words came so easily now, you said them without thinking about it much. You'd missed him over the past few days, thinking he just didn't want to move in with you. But he probably just needed more time. You weren't in any hurry anyway. You and Everett could wait for Bradley to want to move in. 

"Love you, too, Kitten," Bradley replied, reaching for your hand. Molly grimaced and pretended to gag on her cupcake which made both of you laugh. 

"Like you're any better?" you asked her, kicking her foot under the table. 

"Never said I was," Molly replied, running her fingers through Bob's hair as he told Everett about the rec league. Bob reached up and took her hand in his, kissing her fingers while Everett asked him another question. 

"This was nice," you said with a nod, smiling at everyone before you stood to clean up the dishes. But Molly and Bob ended up cleaning everything while Bradley took Everett to get ready for bed. 

And a little while later, Bradley was the one one grunting in your ear. "This is nice," he groaned, unclasping your bra. "I love unwrapping my birthday presents." He palmed your breasts with a smile on his face.

"I can't wait to see what you wrap up for my birthday," you moaned as he scooped you up and set you down on your bed. You were completely naked for him except for your paw print necklace. He pressed a kiss to the charm before kissing your lips. 

"You can have anything you want, Kitten," he promised. And you thought about having a million more nights like this one, with family dinners and then Bradley's body pressed to yours. 

His shirt was off, biceps warm beneath your palms. "Well you can have anything you want."

Bradley froze with his lips on your nipple. He ran his nose down the valley between your breasts before kissing your sternum and looking up at you. "I want you to know that I am not going anywhere, Kitten."

You nodded and whispered, "I know that."

"I want to be here for you and Ev," he said, kissing the undersides of your breasts. "I want... I want you to know I'm not hesitating to move in because of me. So if you and Everett really, honestly want me here all the time, I have one condition."

You took a deep breath, getting nervous as your legs rubbed the rough fabric of his baseball pants. "What's your condition?" you asked softly.

"A stronger commitment," he said, nodding once like it was nonnegotiable. 

But you weren't sure what to think. "What does that mean?" 

Bradley's lips returned to your body after he said, "It means you'll be my family someday soon. I hope." 

He reached for your hands as you processed his words. Family. You already felt like he was. "Okay."

Bradley held your hands above your head and kissed you until you were whimpering for him. Then he unzipped his baseball pants and pulled himself free as you spread your legs wider. He ran his fingers along your pussy, head tipped back as he moaned your name. Then he coated himself up with his fingers before pressing inside you. 

"I love you," he whispered, fucking you nice and slow. It was his birthday, but you were the one getting it exactly how you needed it. "Love you so much, Kitten."

You combed your fingers through his hair, thinking about how he wanted even more of a commitment. What more could he give you right now? He made you feel like you had everything. 

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

On Monday, you let Bradley pick your son up from summer camp. Everett came bounding toward him, surprised and excited that Bradley was there.

"Are we going to practice baseball stuff today?" Everett asked after he hugged Bradley.

"Nope," Bradley told him, turning his cap backwards and leading him toward the Bronco. "I've got something important that I need your help with."

Everett gasped. "Like a secret mission?"

"Exactly like that," Bradley replied, opening the back door for Everett to climb in.

He'd given this a lot of thought after spending the weekend at your house, falling even more in love with the two of you. After Saturday morning pancakes and an outing to hunt for baseball cards, Bradley treated everyone to a movie and popcorn. The fact that you and Everett wanted him to sit in the middle because you both wanted to be by him had him grinning. 

"Are we going to be spies?" Everett's eyes were huge as he buckled himself in. "They go on secret missions all the time for stuff."

"Not quite," Bradley replied with a laugh. "I need your help shopping."

Everett groaned as Bradley closed the door and climbed in the front seat. "But I don't like shopping!" he complained, and Bradley was still laughing. 

"I don't really either, kiddo. But this is shopping for something really important to me," he said, starting the engine and pulling out onto the road. "Think you can help me out? Just this once? I'll get you a chicken nugget Happy Meal when we're done."

"Yeah," Everett sighed. And a few minutes later, Bradley was scooping him out of the booster seat and taking him inside the jewelry store. 

Once they were in front of the case of diamond rings, Bradley asked, "Do you think your mom would like any of these?" Maybe it was silly to ask a seven year old for help picking out an engagement ring, but Bradley knew you'd like the ring even more if they picked it out together. If you said yes.

Bradley's palms were starting to sweat as Everett scanned everything inside the case. Things were moving fast. There was a solid chance you were going to say no. Or tell him you weren't ready. But Bradley wanted this. He needed to know what was coming next if he moved into your house. He wanted to know he could be with the two of you forever. 

Just as he felt a wave of panic wash over him, Everett pointed at one ring in particular. "That one looks like a baseball," he said, looking up at Bradley and grinning. "I think she would like a baseball ring from you."

"Yeah?" Bradley asked, bending to look at it. When the shop owner came over, he only asked to see that one ring. It was really pretty, and it seemed like something you would wear. Just a solitaire diamond with a platinum band. It was elegant and simple. Not overly frilly, but still something that made you want to stop and look at it. And once Bradley was holding it in his hand, he really thought it was perfect. 

He braced himself to hear the price while he dropped the ring into Everett's hand. Everett tried it on his index finger and laughed at how big it was. The price was manageable, and Bradley briefly considered sending a picture of it to Molly for final approval before deciding against it. 

"You know what?" he asked Everett. "I think we did a good job with this."

"We did," Everett replied with a nod. "She's gonna like it."

Bradley handed the ring across the counter along with his credit card. "I'll take it." He had no idea if it would fit you, but they could deal with that later. Because now he was in a state of shocked anticipation. He wanted to drive right to your place and beg you to marry him. He wanted to show you the ring and hope you'd say yes. 

"She'll like anything you give her. Especially if you say you want to get married!" Everett said with wide eyes. 

"I hope you're right, kiddo," Bradley said, running his hand through his hair. But now Everett's forehead was scrunched with concern. "What's wrong?"

Everett got quieter as he asked, "Does this mean you'll be my dad?"

Bradley swallowed hard and knelt down in front of him. Everett's eyes were so open and sincere, curious to know what this meant for him. "Ev," he started, unsure about how to answer. "If your mom and I are going to get married, then I'll be there all the time. I'll move into your house. We can do your homework together, and eat dinner. And I'll take you outside to play every day. Does that make sense?"

"But will you be my dad?" he asked again, and Bradley pulled him into a tight hug. Because he wanted to be. But he couldn't make a promise without talking to you. Without proposing to you first.

"I hope so, okay?" Bradley's voice was deep and raspy. "I love you."

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

Our favorite coaches made the team! Do we think Ev and Bradley have good taste in rings? Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32

PART 25

Don't forget to check out Bob and Molly in The Curveball!

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@swthxrry

@chassy21

@yaboid19

@solacestyles

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@daisyhollyxox

@harper1666

@throwinsauce

@beebslebobs

@awesomebooklover17

@wintercap89

@whosyourgnomie4

@rosesinmars

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@wishfulwithwine

@backinwonderl4nd

@tetragonia

@gingerbreadandpaper

@emptyloverofmine

@apparently-sunshine

@chaoticassidy

@missmirandafe

@topgunbb

@changlingkhat

@sugarcoated-lame

@callsign-jupiter

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@starlightstories

@teddyluvs2sing

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o

@xoxabs88xox

[brodygold]

Because He’s Hot

(All characters are 18+)

Jared was never one for sports. Or people in general for that matter. He was a shy introvert among shy introverts. Being gay made things even worse in his small, tight knit community. He was expected to look and act a certain way, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. He was a true outcast and wanted nothing more than to be left alone. Being in his senior year of high school, he couldn’t wait to move away and never see anyone here again.

Sometimes though, life doesn’t give you what you want. As Jared sat outside at the bus stop on his way home, a stranger came up and sat down next to him. Grumbling to himself, Jared turned to look at him.

“Damn,” he thought. “He’s hot.”

The stranger was everything Jared liked in a guy: tall, athletic (if the shiny gold soccer jersey he had on meant anything), and had a great smile that could light up any room. His smile was so warm and welcoming, Jared almost forget he was going to tell the guy to leave him alone.

“Hey there. Name’s Brody. This bus heading to the soccer field?”

Jared gulped, not remembering how to form words for a second. He normally wasn’t one for talking to strangers, but thought he might as well answer him. Brody was hot after all.

“Oh. Um. Yeah. It does.”

“Great. Thanks man. I was supposed to catch a ride with my teammates but had something come up. You going to the field for tryouts?”

Oh that’s right. Jared remembered the jocks at school mentioning something about that. How some group called the Golden Army was in town holding tryouts to get people to join. There was no way he’d be caught dead around that group though. Right?

“I’m good, thanks. It’s not really my scene.”

“That’s alright bro. What is your scene?”

Jared paused and looked away at that. Well he tried to at least. Brody’s perfect smile was still drawing him in. God, those lips looked so kissable.

“Don’t really have one…” he eventually squeaked out.

“Well, if you want to, we’d love to have you, bro. We could be your scene. You could be a real bro.”

The idea almost made Jared laugh. Him, a bro and a jock? Who knew this handsome man was also funny? Still, a thought creeped into his mind. If he tried out, he could avoid his annoying parents and see this stud even longer.

“Might as well. What do I have to lose?”

Brody clapped Jared on the back. Jared blushed at the contact. “That’s the spirit bro! I got the perfect thing for you actually.” He reached into his bag and pulled out a golden jersey, shimmering in the sunlight. He held it out to Jared, who took it in his hands. It was so soft, almost melting in his hands.

Was he really about to put on this jersey just because some guy told him to?

Yeah, because he’s hot, Jared thought as he put it on over his hoodie.

He felt a tingle as soon as he put it on. He didn’t notice how his hoodie and ripped jeans vanished and turned into a pair of black soccer shorts, leaving him slightly chilly in the crisp fall air. Nor did he notice his skinny arms and legs becoming filled with muscle or his chest becoming two pillow pecs. His shaggy hair become a perfect sporty cut, the color turning from blonde to brown.

He was too busy staring at Brody and his smile. He certainly didn’t notice Brody’s eyes glow bright gold, drawing him in even more.

Jared memories and mannerisms disappeared the more he stared. The quiet, nerdy, outcast of a guy turned into a true social butterfly, hanging out with his bros any chance he got, on or off the field. Even the name Jared felt like a distant memory, being replaced with Jackson, a perfect name for a hot jock.

Brody’s eyes finally stopped their golden glow, a knowing smile on his face.

“You ready for tryouts, Jackson?”

“Hell yeah, Captain bro! Let’s go!”

Jackson felt so pumped for tryouts and knew with Brody by his side, the two could accomplish anything.

Why? Because they’re hot!

[libraford]

Have you shared the story of you joining the track team with us? I feel like you have but I can't remember any details.

I SHALL TELL YOU A TALE OF PURE FOLLY!

The year us 1999, I am in seventh grade. Like most seventh-graders, I hate everything that I am forced to do but I especially hate Pep Rallies. They are hell for my tiny little social outcast ADHD brain: loud noises, forced enjoyment of an activity, sports, pointless interaction with people I can't stand, and the potential for relentless bullying afterwards.

So we had a pep rally.

And I, for the first time in my rules-following life, decided to skip.

My class filed into the gym, I ducked into the bathroom, and waited for the sound of the doors closing.

Problem was that I didn't think I'd get this far and I've never been in the habit of delinquency, so I had no idea what to do next. I started wandering the halls just a little bit, testing out the freedom of having broken the rules, going down hallways that weren't part of my routine...

...when I heard dogs barking.

You see...

...the pep rallies weren't exactly about basketball. The pep rallies were an excuse to make lots of noise so no one heard the police dogs when they came looking for drugs in people's lockers.

And I am not where I'm supposed to be. I am where NO ONE is supposed to be. And I panic, because if I show up to the pep rally late they are going to notice.

I did not think this through.

So I start looking for somewhere to be while the police are searching for worse criminals than myself and I see a bunch of students in the cafeteria. One of them is a friend of mine, so I wouldn't be completely out of place in this location, so I came in and sat down next to her. A roster is being passed around and I sign it so that I can say that I was accounted for during the pep rally in some way.

The teacher who is heading whatever this is stands up in front of this group and says:

"Thank you for coming to the track and field tryouts. You've all made it in."

Uh...

...woops.

I think I'll just sit through this one meet and then quit. People do it all the time, I don't think anyone would notice.

Except that this is a small town and everyone knows everyone- so the teacher/coach helpfully informed my father that I'd joined the track team voluntarily and in no way was it a mistake of any kind.

My whole family is sports nuts. My dad was in charge of the sports page at the news paper, my mom will talk excitedly about college football, and my brother has excelled in every sport he's ever been in.

I'm a textbook case of Not That. Art student, lead violist, and the most exercise I get is dodging projectile rocks on my way home from school.

But my dad is SO proud of me when he hears about it. Lee is doing a Sport? A Sport that's physical? A Sport with a team? A SPORT!

Like... he bought me new shoes and stuff to clean the shoes with and all kinds of first aid stuff for my muscle pains and oh my god for the first time in his life I was in a SPORT!

(Just to emphasize- he has always been PROUD of me. He thought I was a genius because I showed him how to make chocolate dipped strawberries at home without a fondue pot like... he's pretty sure I'm going to save the world somehow. But this was the first time that I had ever shown even the smallest bit of interest in doing a Sport, which is HIS special interest and now we can BOND!)

So I try.

You know... I hate running.

I actually have a condition caused by a childhood illness that impacts cartilage development as well as asthma from a bronchial infection when I was in 5th grade.

But my dad came to all of the track meets that he could and I was so deep into the lie that quitting now would break him.

So I try my hand at non-running events: shot put and discus. I'd still have to run during practice, but I was allowed to go off and do Not Running for a little bit.

I can't remember the actual numbers or anything, but I remember that when I first did shot put with proper form, the coach kind of turned her head sideways and said 'damn.'

So turned out that being at the roly-poly stage of my larval development meant that I was still learning how my personal body chemistry affects the build of muscle. The answer is 'very quickly.'

It starts getting hard to find shirts that will fit my biceps and now I'm in trouble for wearing non-standard issue tank tops to school from practicing shot and discus.

If this were a movie, it would mean that suddenly being a jock meant that I had been accepted by my peers and something something Mean Girls something something. But no, because having incredible muscle as a thirteen year old did not do anything to disspell the rumors that I was a lesbian and unfortunately I was still bullied relentlessly. Nor did I ever throw a punch because I don't like hurting people and no one ever taught me how to fight. But it did mean that I had a handful of girls ready to use teeth and nails to defend the shot put champion.

Which is important because I was the ONLY shot put and discus thrower in the school.

And as I found out- the district.

I went almost an entire season without competing against a single person, winning the event by default.

Until the semi-finals.

And I did have to compete against an assortment of other thirteen year olds that were just now learning that they had upper body strength. But because they ALSO were the only ones competing in those events they had never competed against another person either.

So we all sucked.

I got gold in shot put. Bronze in discus. But to their credit there were only three competitors.

Huge fucking deal for my dad.

Not a huge deal for the rest of the track team, who all did really poorly in most events BUT throwing events, which meant that this was our last game of the season.

And so ended my short, accidental career as the middle school shot put champion.

"Did you try out again in 8th grade?"

Fuck no. I hate running.

[mercurycft]

𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 — 𝐆𝐒 . 𝐋𝐖 . 𝐊𝐖

## georgia, leah & keira !!

Hello everyone! I hope you enjoy this! I’ve missed writing over the last crazy weeks, i’m getting through all my messages & requests now! More parts of this to come! Thank you! Love always - RGx

1,786 words.

When Keira and Georgia first met, they were in school. Fifteen and wrapped in blazers that were at the very least a size too big, hanging down by their waists and protruding from their shoulders.

The pair weren’t totally unfamiliar, sharing a group of mutual friends - more specifically, Leah, who would throw their names around in conversations.

Leah had lived five minutes from Georgia practically since they were born. they spent years kicking about on the field outside Georgia’s house, seeing each other through years of school and friendship. That was until year seven found them both in different schools at different ends of the town - but somehow, through the mess of puberty and British secondary school, they never lost touch. instead opting for a weekly kick about on a Tuesday, which usually ended in a mess of laughter. The type of laughter that's silent and pure joyous, the kind that makes you hold your nose and cross your legs. most importantly, it worked.

Leah and Keira however, had met on the third day of year seven. football tryouts, obviously. Leah striking up a conversation about Keira’s boots, and helping her to tie the ridiculously long laces. They both made the team and made an even better pair. Keira, despite her small frame, dominated the mid field. Leah, with her big aspirations and an even bigger mouth, dominated the defence. They would scream across the field, calling to each other after a good pass and swearing under their breaths when the ball came off their feet in an unintended direction. It started at after-school practice, then lunch, then the days seemed to fall into weeks, then into months, then into years until their meeting became a soft memory of them.

It was the final day of school before May half-term, a Friday. It was still warm and light out, the sun still standing her ground as four o’clock rolled around and the final bell rang through the grounds. At the sound, Keira and Leah hurried to shove their belongings and clothes back into their kit bags - disregarding the need to actually remove either of their football kits and instead just slipping their blazer over the top.

The pair still slightly red in the face and breathing deeply as they sifted through the crowd in the common area, weaving through the bodies and towards the gates - arms linked and followed by a small group of other girls who they shared a pitch with.

Georgia’s day had finished earlier, her school day ending in a blur. At lunchtime, her phone buzzed in her blazer pocket. A text from Leah asking Georgia if she wanted to play in a friendly five-a-side match with some of the girls from her team. though she said it in far fewer words, something along the lines of. ‘g!!! five-a-side on the field tonight!! meet me from school, I’ll introduce u to the girls. love u x’ and that was that.

Georgia was already outside the gates by the time the bell rang, headphones in and looking down at her phone. She had her kit on too, beneath her blazer. A backpack slung over her shoulder and hanging low on her back, it was full to the brim - most likely with her uniform scrunched and shoved in amongst the books.

When Leah, Keira and the other football girls had finally managed to break out of the crowd and through the gates - Leah called out and pulled the group in Georgia's direction, spotting the girl standing hunched against the wall. Once she was close enough to be noticed, Georgia removed her headphones and pulled Leah into a side hug and laughed when they collided.

"You're sweaty get off!" She laughed, nudging Leah away playfully and turning her attention to the rest of the girls. "I'm Georgia! it's lovely to meet you!"

Before Keira could reply she was being hugged, smiling at the unexpected contact and letting out a loose laugh as the group errupted into harmonizing laughs when leah called from ahead of them.

"She's a hugger girls!"

They all finished their greetings, exchanging names and 'How are you's before they started to move away from the school. The walk to the field wasn't far at all, maybe 15 minutes and Georgia seemed to fit straight into the crowd. Laughing and joking with everyone, making sure they were all equally included.

After five minutes though, Georgia and Keira had managed to drift away from the other girls. Stood in a two behind the group, laughing and talking about football. they shared their favourite players and discussed matches they had been to, each of them excited at the presence of a new ear to chew off. they shared embarrassing football moments and silly cards they had received. This continued until they had reached their destination, still chatting as they threw their bags onto the grass and began marking their 'goalposts.'

It felt strange to Keira, it had never been easy for her to make new friends. But weirdly, it didn't feel like she was making a new friend in Georgia. Instead, it was as if they had been friends for years.

The match was fun, full of laughter and cheers. By the time they had finished up, the other girls had said their goodbyes and made their way home. leaving Leah, Georgia and Keira alone on the grass. they sat there for a while, laughing and talking until they had to leave. accompanying each other on the walk home, where Keira made sure to take Georgia's number to stay in touch.

They spoke every day.

—————————

Keira had never felt this way about a group of people before, or honestly about anyone at all. She wasn't a sociable child and that wasn't a trait she really ever grew out of - but with Leah and Georgia, her ability (or lack thereof) to make friends seemed to wither away.

The first time they spent the day as just a trio was in the summer. It was hot, with little breeze to put them out of their misery. Sprawled out on a pitch of grass by the stone beach, which was far too hot and crowded to even think about finding a spot. But laying on mismatched towels beside each other and sharing a big bag of doritos was enough for them.

The group stayed like that for hours, laid on their towels and sharing the snacks that Georgia had provided. They laughed until their ribs hurt, and kicked a ball about until they were sure their knees would buckle.

The day was slowly slipping away, the sun now drifting below the horizon and a chill settling into the air. At the now lack of heat, the girls concluded it was time to walk home.

They walked together, sharing a bottle of water and stopping every few yards in fits of laughter. The walk would usually take 15 minutes, but between them, they had managed to extend the walk to 45.

Georgia and Leah decided to walk Keira home first, considering she lived closer and they wouldn't want her to walk even a street's length alone. They escorted her right up to the front door, sharing a hug and a passing kiss on the cheek before saying their final goodbyes.

Keira watched them walk away from her house through the window next to the door, smiling absentmindedly as they faded from view. Watching Leah's ponytail swing as she shook her head, presumably at some stupid comment Georgia had made, Keira couldn't help by stifle a small and breathy laugh from her lips.

"This is it." she thought briefly. these were her people.

—————————

Almost a year later and they were still as close as ever. Spending evenings after school and spare time on the weekends as a trio. whether that be in town, or at each other's houses.

On this day, however, they sat on a small patch of grass behind Georgia's house. All three of them adorned in mismatched football kits their parents had strung together. They sat in silence for a minute or two, heaving for breath as they lay sprawled out after an all too intense round of quickfire penalties.

In this silence Keira lay fidgeting with the blades of grass beside her, twisting them between her fingers and ripping them from the ground. She knew she could tell them anything. They would never judge, just listen. So she was confused as to why an anxious fire began to spread through her stomach, around her limbs and across the back of her neck as she sat up in the grass and turned her body to face the pair head-on.

Georgia was the first to notice the look on Keira's face, raising herself to rest on her elbows with her eyebrows furrowed. "Kei? What's wrong?"

Leah sat up next, removing her arm from across her face and moving to face Keira as well. "You okay?" She whispered softly.

Keira was silent for a few beats, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes before she started speaking. "I need to tell you both something and I don't want you to think of me any differently and I don't want you to not want to talk to me or hang around with me anymore and I just-"

"Keira, woah, slow down." Leah was always logical, but she was also fiercely caring. She placed her hand gently atop of Keira's on the grass. "Slow down, nothing you could ever say will ever make us not want to speak to you!"

"Yeah Kei, never." Georgia iterated, smiling.

"I like girls." She whispered. Looking down at the grass beneath her, avoiding the eyes now fixated on her. It was silent between the group for a minute before Georgia spoke up.

"You're still Keira."

[s-4pphics]

first vi brainrot

… heyyyy arcaners 😋

getting back into writing after like a month LOL art by lottie-lot :3 @trackinglessons

fck you free palestine. 

WORD COUNT: not eem 1k just some plotting 

CONTENT: rugbyplayer!vi, femcel!oc… is she deranged or is she in love who knows fr, a lil horny, brief mentions or familial death/grief

rugbyplayer!vi who’s loved dearly. . . 

shines brighter than the sun whenever she enters the room; makes every person she comes across glow with her charisma, her laughter. she’s so polite and gracious. people can’t help but gravitate towards her radiance. 

no one would’ve ever guessed the turmoil she experienced before moving to her college town. loneliness was no longer comforting. the silence she was once eased by brought forth distress she couldn’t control. 

rugbyplayer!vi who moved through university like a ghost who never crossed over. only left noticeable tracks in the smiles she gave people before vanishing to nothingness in her room. 

rugbyplayer!vi who had no idea what rugby was. only got introduced to it at a bar where matches played on the tv screen above as she sipped her drink in silence. it seemed like watered-down football and made her nose turn up. 

who would’ve thought she’d be at her university’s rugby tryouts a few months later. one poorly made sign with every single one of her crushes in shorts and she ended up with her heels in the wet dirt, nerve wracked in front of both coaches. only then did she realize how out of shape she’s gotten. sports were her escape in high school, but the loss of her sibling destroyed her. crumbled every aspiration she ever had into dust that buried her baby sister. 

when she first got recruited, she was fearful. how would she ever be able to focus on practice when she’s surrounded by people she’s desired to emulate? they’re strong and resilient and quick; she’s leagues behind them in terms of skill and she knows it. her brain discourages her like no other. 

rugbyplayer!vi who was relentless the first few months of training. the aches in her thighs and the salt leaking from her pores and into her eyes did nothing but motivate her, distract her, drive her to do more. to reach where her peers sat comfortably at the top. she pushed so much that she called out of class multiple times; she couldn’t fucking walk. 

it took seven ruthless months to get where she wanted to be. seven months of self-doubt, of quitting and forcing herself to retry. her teammates believed in her more than she believed in herself. whenever she struggled, they were right behind her, carrying whatever weight her limbs couldn’t support. 

her teammates swiftly became her family. . . not a day goes by where she doesn’t miss her sister. 

it’s been a year since her recruitment. . . her exhaustion finally paid off in wins and meticulous tackles of her opponents. the sport aids her aggression, keeps her attention off of her damaged past for hours as she rides the high of a successor. whenever she walks onto the field she’s cocky, ego blasted to the clouds because she knows people are there for her; every time her cleats sink into the dirt, she’s home. 

it’s a rush she can’t explain. she loves this fucking game. 

. . . but you love her more. 

it’s not an obsession. you’re observant. you enjoy watching people. . . do things. you feel socialized whenever you study the joy, the grief, the yearn individuals exude through their behavior. you don't feel as lonely. almost connected to yourself through other people. 

when you first met rugbyplayer!vi, it was through a window during sophomore year. 

sat on a beanbag on the second floor of the library, completely distracted from your coursework, you gawked down as she conversed and smiled and laughed with people you didn’t know but wished to. rugbyplayer!vi captivated you like no other. education be damned. you’d drop everything for her at that moment if she asked. 

you’re not stalking her. it’s not your fault that wherever she is, you are. call it fate. you never say a word. simply stand off to the side and crave and think and fantasize. your mind is sinister. 

rugbyplayer!vi is the sun. you’re a moth, shadowing wherever light trails. 

witnessing her rugby career develop was a blessing. you’re always in the stands, hiding in plain sight from her. the muscles in her legs and arms are much larger than when she first started; they flex whenever she snags and throws the ball. pummels other women to the ground. lifts her shirt to wipe her sweat. clenches her fist when she’s angry. what you'd give to ease her tension. 

how can you not love her? everything she embodies is perfect. every cell that crafts her being is godsend. 

you crave to be in her presence. but you can’t. 

people are turned off by you. you’re not sure why, but you’re always alone, comforted by the repulsive compartments of your brain. the voice that encourages you to detach. 

so, you go where there’s no judgment. dump all your thoughts of the love of your life where no one can find you. where she can’t find you. forever undiscovered. forever anonymous. 

REDDIT.

[stoneagedevil]

Idiot | Eddie Munson x f!Reader

TW/CW: loneliness.

———

You’d been feeling down about yourself for some time now. You weren’t a cheerleader, but lately you’d been considering attending the tryouts for the semester. You’d even heard that girls in the band’s flute section were getting action from the brass section. Maybe you could pick up another instrument…?

No. No no no.

Christ, when did you become so desperate? Maybe it was all the twitterpated faces floating up and down the halls, what with the dance approaching and all.

But it’s not even like you wanted to go. You weren’t much of a dancer, but rather a person to get rowdy on stage at the Hideout when you played. That led to other thoughts…

You’d met Eddie Munson at the beginning of summer a few years ago. You were enthralled with his performance in his band Corroded Coffin, and he was just as lovestruck when he saw you go up with one of the most badass electric guitars he’d ever seen. After your set, you’d both gotten to talking at the bar - him buying you each a soda since you both had to drive home. That was the start of a wonderful friendship.

And unfortunately for your poor little heart, that’s all it was.

You sighed, taking a drag off a cig you found in your jeans you didn’t remember washing. Thank god for that. You looked over at the cheerleaders on the field practicing their routine from where you sat on the outside bleachers; trying to picture yourself in a cheer outfit mingling with them.

Suddenly you were startled by a loud, thundering metal sound coming from your right, nearly pulling your neck at the speed you looked over. It was Eddie - who just jumped onto the metal bleachers to illicit a reaction from his favorite person.

“Shit yourself?” He laughed, smile making his eye crinkle.

“Har har Munson.” You blew smoke at his face smirking slightly. He waved it away playfully.

“Watcha doin’ up here? Thought I’d find you in the art room, but you weren’t there.” He sat closely beside you.

You flicked the dead ash from the end of your cigarette. “Feelin’ melancholy I ‘spose…” you trailed off, leaning back on the seat behind you and looking up at the sky. Eddie quickly joined you.

“Why’re you sad? Need something stronger than that ciggy?” He reached into his inside pocket on his jacket and dug out a joint.

You eyed it for a second. “Nah. I’d better not.”

Eddie frowned. It wasn’t like you to turn down his premo stuff. It wasn’t like you to isolate yourself - especially away from him. He got nervous.

“Hey, what’s going on? You know you can talk to me, right?” He placed a hand on your knee, causing those stupid butterflies to flutter around in your stomach.

You debated a lot of things in that moment. You debated telling him you were in love with him. You debated shooting up from your position on the bleachers and pulling his face towards yours and kissing him. You debated running away, never to be seen or heard from again.

You took none of these options.

“I’m lonely, I guess. It’s hard seeing people get asked out to dances all of the time knowing that’s never coming to me. I wouldn’t even wanna go, but maybe if someone asked…I would? I don’t know. It’s stupid.” You sat up and looked down at your shoes.

Eddie looked at the side of your face. Maybe if he was brave enough he’d ask. Maybe if he was wealthy enough and you’d said yes, he’d get a suit and get you a corsage. Maybe if he wasn’t the town freak. Maybe in another life.

Maybe.

“Hey, it’s not dumb. I know how you feel. I’ve only really ever been asked out as a joke. But someone will come around and see how absolutely amazing and badass you are. Seriously.” He said this instead, even though it made his throat tighten at the tail end of his sentence.

You looked at him, and he let go of a breath he wasn’t even aware he was holding captive. Your eyes swam with doubt, slightly damp.

“Eddie. I’m the freakette. Anyone who would ask me out is probably an idiot.” You said, somberly.

Suddenly, Eddie’s hand disappeared from its place on your knee, Eddie himself bolting up from the bleachers. “Hey! I know I’m a repeat but I’m not an idiot!” He said, sounding genuinely upset.

You paused, realization smacking you both upside the head. “You…you what?”

The color of Eddie’s face would make traffic stop. Fuck. Maybe he is an idiot. “I said that…that uh-“ his hands flew over his eyes, “that I’m not an idiot but now I’m thinkin’ I am because I’m pretty sure I just ruined the best thing to ever happen to me.”

Your heart sped up in your chest, your face blushing. “You…like me?”

Eddie, hands still covering his embarrassment, sighed. “I mean, like you? No. I’m pretty sure I fell in love with you when we met. Christ. Look-“ he removed his hands from his face, instead wringing them together, “if you give me time then maybe I could get over it. We can pretend this never happened, I just- I just need you in my life, whatever way that looks like.” His eyes looked down at his shoes now.

You shook your head, mouth agape at what you were hearing. You debated a lot of things in that moment. Then, you went with the best option.

You stood, walking calmly towards him, taking his burning face in your cold hands and lifted it. He looked down at you, shocked, and slightly scared. Definitely nervous.

You leaned in and kissed him then, him returning the favor. Once separated, you backed up, “Eddie, I don’t want you to get over me.”

His smile looked like it’d break his face in half, “Good. Because I was totally lying about my ability to get over you. I’m pretty sure it’s impossible.” You laughed and he joined, happy to have made you smile. “I know it isn’t a big dance proposal, but, would you wanna go out? With me?” He had to specify. He just had to.

“Id love to go out with my favorite idiot.” You smiled cheekily. Eddie burst out into laughter, picking you up and hugging you tightly.

“If I can be your idiot, then an idiot I’ll be.” He declared, kissing you once more.

———

Thanks for reading, I’ve been in a slump lately, so I hope this was good.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Just Have to Feel It

Day #9 - Prompt: The Hideout | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Gareth | Pairing: None | Tags: Getting Started, First Gig at The Hideout

"I'm fourteen," Gareth says, stressing that last part, just in case they've all forgotten.

"Yeah, we're all well aware of that, kid," Eddie answers, smirking.

And that's not a problem? Fourteen-year-olds don't go to bars. Not even in small towns. It's just not done.

"And that's not a problem, you don't think?" Gareth asks aloud, looking at the rest of them. They're all kids. Maybe Eddie isn't, but the rest of them are. And they are never, ever gonna pass for over eighteen. Jeff has braces, for fuck's sake.

"Lou said he'd look the other way as long as we don't do anything stupid. Stay away from the booze and the bar floor, and we can play on Tuesday. As a tryout, I guess," Eddie says.

His mom is never gonna go for this. Mama Jones is cool, but she's not allow her middle schooler in a bar, especially not on a weeknight, cool. Gareth damn well knows that without even asking.

Well, he was wrong and now his mom is sitting near the edge of the cobbled together stage at The Hideout. Holy shit. They're actually getting ready to do it. They're gonna play for an actual crowd. A small crowd. A very, very small crowd of about a dozen drunks that keep booing them and heckling. before they've even heard anything. This might have been a terrible idea, Gareth is pretty sure. But he'll go along with it, because Eddie wants to try this. See if they can actually play live together, outside of the garage or a school talent show. 

But getting booed? Having shit thrown at them before they've even started? Gareth's not sure he signed up for that. 

So, it's an understatement to say that Gareth's nervous, but he cracks his sticks together counting them in, and away they go. Eddie made the decision to have them play covers only, which is probably the best move they could make. These assholes are never gonna want to hear their original songs, but maybe, just maybe they'll tolerate some covers of things they already know.

The band comes in, on time, and together and that's the first hurdle to clear, honestly.

Gareth's not sure they sound good, but they don't sound terrible. They sound inexperienced and, well, scared. Even Eddie's being reserved, and if he doesn't kick it into high gear, they're gonna be run out of here, for sure. 

Someone throws a can, and Eddie ducks, which sends it straight towards Gareth. He reaches up on reflex, catches it, and throws it back, hardly missing anything.

Eddie turns to look at him, eyes wide. 

Gareth knew playing little league would come in handy someday, he just never guessed this would be the reason. 

And the crowd gets behind this act of defiance, even if Mama Jones looks mortified that her child would do such a thing. 

He just retaliated, he didn't start this shit. 

That puffs Eddie up a little bit, and he takes command of the stage in a way he hadn't yet. He's still a lanky kid, Gareth knows that, but at least he looks like they might belong on this stage, as shitty as it is.

They finish their first song, and the only positive reinforcement is from Mama Jones. She's clapping, and Gareth would be embarrassed if it wasn't so welcomed to hear at least one person enjoying themselves.

Everyone else is kind of being assholes at worst, or indifferent at best. 

They loosen up for their second and third songs, then by the time they've hit their final one, the crowd is at least refraining from hurling things at them.

Gareth supposes that's a win. 

Lou gives them the Tuesday slot, which makes Gareth wonder who the hell they had playing there before them. Because there definitely wasn't a clamoring to keep them on the stage, or get them back for another round, he's sure.

Eddie makes the deal, and then helps Gareth load his drums back into his mom's car while the rest of them pile into Eddie's van. 

When he slides into the passenger seat, his mom looks over at him.

"You were good, I'm proud of you boys," she says, and Gareth rolls his eyes, but is secretly happy with the compliment, down deep.

But, she let him do this, and he should be nicer, "Thanks for letting me do it. It was fun."

"I'll have to have a talk with Eddie, if you boys are going to do this every week. I don't know that I'll always be able to come."

"I'll be good," he says, and he means that. Eddie already treats him like a little kid, and he can't imagine that's gonna change in a bar, where he's under his care.

"You and Goodie sure sounded good together," she says, turning back on the highway.

He turns to look at her, "What?"

"You're the rhythm section, right?"

"Well, yeah. Sure."

"You worked together very well," she says, and Gareth laughs, harder than he means to, and she looks at him, questioning.

"Goodie and I never work together well," he admits, "He picks on me all the time."

"Well, you make nice music together. Maybe you'll learn to get along."

That seems unlikely. 

However, he does trust his mom's opinion on music. She gave private lessons for years. Not only piano, but other instruments, too. She's definitely where he gets his music from. Not his dad. Well, at least not that he knows of. It's not like he knows much about him.

But his mom? She's musical. She probably could have made it a career if she hadn't had him, and decided to stay in Hawkins to raise him.

"You really think so?" he asks.

"Definitely. That can't be taught, you just have to feel it together, and he got right in the pocket with you."

Maybe playing every week at The Hideout will make that flourish. Maybe they will be a real band. Holy shit.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

[gotham--fc]

Désolée - A Marie-Philip Poulin and Laura Stacey Imagine

Part two of my previous Pou and Stacey fic which you can find here

Y/N comes to visit Pou and Stacey in Montreal and tempers flare

Y/N had never been so relieved for summer break.

She, like every teenager, counts the days until school is out, naturally, but this summer is different. From dealing with normal school stuff, to her hometown team who keep moving her up age groups and coaches not so subtly trying to poach her for their teams, to being in the national team rotation and suddenly being one of the most popular people in her town, she’s ready for a break.

Of course, hockey doesn’t stop, hockey never stops, but hockey takes a break. Or rather, she takes a break since she doesn’t have to attend tryouts and recruitment camps anymore. She feels bad, feels like she’s getting special treatment over some of the girls who have been on the team longer than her, but there’s nothing she can do about it. And she has plans, so there’s that.

She steps off the plane in the Montreal airport, carry on dragging behind her. She didn’t want to check a bag, so she shoved everything into her carry on and now it feels heavier than anything. She finds her way through the airport and out past security. She pauses for a moment, looking around at all the people gathered there, trying to find a familiar face. Her eyes land on a brightly coloured sign with “Mon Petite Lapinou” written on it. She shakes her head fondly, a blush rising on her cheeks and a warmth filling her chest.

“Salut!” Pou wraps her up in a big hug and rocks her side to side. “How are you? Was the flight okay? How did your exams go?”

“Marie, please, let the girl breathe,” Laura says. Pou lets go and Y/N hugs Laura. “She was a little too excited for your visit,” Laura whispers to Y/N.

“Have you ever been to Montreal?” Pou asks as they walk to the car. Pou took Y/N’s carry on from her as soon as they started walking and carries it easily.

“No, I mean, I’ve been to Quebec for tournaments and stuff but I never had any in Montreal. We were mostly in Gatineau and Sherbrooke.”

“You’ll love it, it’s a beautiful city,” Pou says, “Maybe you’ll love it so much you’ll want to come here after you graduate college.”

“Marie,” Laura scolds, “She’s not even done high school.”

“Okay okay,” Pou says, “But I’ll still make you like Montreal more than Boston. I don’t want you playing for my rival team in a few years.”

Y/N smiles at that. She has no doubt that Pou will convince her Montreal is a better city than Boston, but she has no idea what the future will hold. She doesn’t even know if she’ll do well in college, let alone get drafted and actually make a team in the PWHL.

“Are you hungry?” Laura places her hand on Y/N’s shoulder as Pou puts her bag in the trunk of the car. “We can stop somewhere for food on the way back if you want.”

“I’m alright,” Y/N says, subconsciously leaning into Laura’s touch. “I think I’m just tired.”

“Alright,” Laura says, “Let us know if you change your mind, okay?” Y/N nods.

They all pile in the car, Laura in the front seat while Pou drives and Y/N in the back. Pou talks the whole time, telling Y/N all the things they’ll do while she’s here, pointing out landmarks and buildings and telling stories. Y/N does her best to listen, but the flight and the rocking of the car pulls her to sleep.

“Marie,” Laura says quietly, “Look.”

Marie glances in the rearview mirror and sees Y/N asleep. She smiles fondly at her.

“It’s hard to believe she’ll be going to college in a year, she looks so young,” Marie says.

“Don’t say that when she’s awake,” Laura says, “She might kill you.”

***

Y/N really likes being with Pou and Laura. It’s fun, exploring Montreal, and getting to see the two of them outside of the camp environment. It’s not like they hide their relationship, since everyone knows about them, but they still keep things professional during camps. It’s fun seeing them without the pressure of camp and performing.

Pou wakes up every day at 5am to walk Arlo. They return at 6am and make the most noise possible and Y/N smiles as she hears Laura yell for them to keep it down and then the clamber of footsteps as Pou and Arlo run up the stairs and jump in bed with Laura. Y/N then usually pulls her pillow over her head and goes back to sleep until 8am.

Pou and Laura love going to farmers markets and Y/N tags along as Pou speaks in rapid fire French to all the vendors. Y/N tries to keep up, but her grade nine French isn’t enough.

“You’ll pick it up the longer you’re here,” Laura tells her, “If you even end up in Montreal. You won’t need much French in Boston, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Y/N says.

She doesn’t know how to explain the pit in her chest that opens every time one of them mentions Boston, or where she’s going to end up once she graduates. She knows she has to think about it, she’s going to Boston in a year, she can’t avoid it, but she just wishes everyone would let her spend the summer just being a regular teenager on summer vacation.

“I’ll have to send you a list of restaurants to try when you’re in Boston,” Pou says that night when they’re having dinner. “And me and Laura can come visit you and–”

“Can’t you spend one day not talking about Boston?” Y/N snaps, “I might not even go to Boston! And I might not get drafted to Montreal in five years if I even get drafted at all! I’m sorry that you only care about me because you think I’m your protégé or something but I’m not like you and I never will be!”

Y/N shoves her chair back and storms out of the room, frustrated tears in her eyes.

“Wh – Y/N! Come back here! Arrêt! Reviens à table!”

Y/N ignores her and slams the door of the guest bedroom.

***

Laura isn’t going to say she say this coming. She saw signs, the way Y/N got quiet and seemed to shrink whenever someone brought up college or the pros, the way Marie never seemed to notice. She won’t say she’s better at reading Y/N than Marie, or that Marie is unobservant, or anything like that. Laura only noticed because she’s been through this with Marie already.

Back when they first started dating, Laura wasn’t settled in her career. She still felt like an outsider, like a fringe player, and she spent years expecting the national team coaches to call her and tell her she didn’t make the team. Marie never understood that, because she never had to. Ever since her debut, she was a mainstay on the national team. She’s the captain, there was no question she would be on every team she was healthy enough to be on. She never dealt with the uncertainty.

Marie also never understood why Laura doubted herself. She never understood why Laura would plan for what happens when she gets cut. For Marie, Laura was a phenomenal player who made the team better, so why wouldn’t she be on every roster? For Laura, she was a good player in a sea of good players who all deserved a spot.

They had arguments, and times when they were both too stubborn and didn’t talk for days or weeks. There were times when Laura felt less than, and felt small standing next to the Marie-Philip Poulin. Of course, Marie never understood that either.

Things are better now, Laura is settled and confident in her skills. She doesn’t expect to get cut after every bad practice, and she doesn’t feel overshadowed by Marie. Yes, there’s still people who think she only got where she is because of Marie. People who think Montreal only signed her because they signed Marie first. But Laura knows what she brings to a team and she knows she deserves her spot. When Marie defends her, praises her, Laura doesn’t feel patronized. She knows Marie isn’t saying those things because she feels like she has to, or because she feels like she needs to appease Laura. Laura knows she says what she does because she loves Laura so much that she can’t stand to hear people criticizing her unfairly and she can’t stand people talking about her when they know nothing about her or her play.

Laura knows Marie sees a lot of herself in Y/N, but Laura thinks Y/N is a lot more like she is than Marie.

“Let her go,” Laura says, tugging Marie back down when Marie tries to storm after Y/N.

“But–”

“Give her space, you’re only going to yell at each other if you chase after her now.”

“She… She yelled at us! That’s… She’s… It was rude!”

“I know, love,” Laura gently rubs the space between Marie’s shoulder blades.

Laura knows it’s not the fact that Y/N yelled, it’s what she said that’s upsetting Marie.

“Let’s give her some time to calm down, and then I’ll go talk to her, see if I can figure out what’s going on.”

***

Y/N doesn’t emerge at all that night. Marie gets more and more sullen as the night goes on. Laura knows there’s nothing she can do when Marie is like this. They both can get in their heads and neither can let things go that easily, so Laura knows she just needs to let Marie sulk until she’s done sulking.

The next morning, Marie is still sulking. While Marie is out walking Arlo, Laura (even though she hates it normally) gets out of bed and prepares breakfast. She leaves two servings for herself and Marie and brings one serving up to Y/N’s room. She knocks lightly on the door.

“It’s just me, I’m leaving some breakfast here for you,” Laura says, “You can come down if you want, but you can stay in there for as long as you want.”

Y/N doesn’t come down, but Laura hears her open the door and take the plate. A little bit later, Marie comes home. Arlo gets halfway up the stairs before he realizes Laura is still downstairs. He leaps onto the couch and Laura laughs as he licks her face. Marie laughs too, but Laura can hear its strained.

“Is she still acting like a morveuse?” Marie says. Laura sighs.

“She is still upstairs, but she is not a brat,” Laura shushes Marie before she can start talking again, “She’s a 17-year-old girl with the weight of the world on her shoulders. All you ever talk to her about is hockey or Boston, it’s no surprise she thinks that’s all you care about.”

“That’s not true!” Marie says, “I’m trying to help–”

“Marie, I love you, but sometimes your help doesn’t help,” Laura puts her arm around Marie’s shoulder and pulls her closer. “I know you think you’re helping prepare her for the future, and I love that about you, you know that.” Laura pauses. “Can you see that Y/N is stressed about college and her future in hockey and sometimes having that be all you talk about doesn’t help her be less stressed.”

“All I wanted when I was her age was for someone to tell me what to do,” Marie says quietly, her voice thick.

“I know, baby, I know.”

***

Later in the afternoon, Marie takes Arlo on another walk. Laura has told her not to spoil him during the offseason so he doesn’t expect this treatment all the time, but Marie doesn’t listen, and Laura doesn’t push it today. While Marie is out, Laura goes up to Y/N’s room.

“It’s just me,” Laura says after she knocks, “Marie isn’t home, can I come in?”

After a moment, Y/N answers quietly: “Okay.”

Y/N is laying on the bed. Laura sits beside her.

“How are you doing?” Laura asks. Y/N shrugs.

“Is she really mad at me?” Y/N whispers.

“She was,” Laura answers, “She’s not mad at you anymore. She was only trying to help and she didn’t mean to upset you. Look,” Laura sighs, “When she was your age, she was so scared. She had no idea what to expect. All she wanted was for someone to tell her what she was supposed to do and she assumed you would be the same way. She just wants to make things easier for you. She really does feel bad that she upset you so much.”

“I don’t feel like I deserve it all,” Y/N says, “Like, it’s different for her, or you. I’m not that good and I just… I don’t think I’ll make it.” Y/N rolls over so her back is to Laura. “I don’t want to lose you both when you realize I’m not as good as you think.”

“When I first started seeing Marie, I felt the same way,” Laura says. Y/N’s head jerks towards Laura and she looks up at Laura with a confused expression. “I stopped talking to her, actually, because I didn’t feel good enough compared to her. I thought it would easier to break it off than wait for her to do it later on.”

“What happened?”

“Marie is more stubborn than anyone I’ve ever met,” Laura smiles as she thinks about her fiancée. Y/N huffs out a laugh at Laura’s statement. “She wouldn’t let me go without a reason, so I told her. And she told me I was being an idiot and she was right. Marie loves hockey, but hockey is the last thing on her mind when it comes to the people she loves.”

“I chose BU because that’s where she went,” Y/N says quietly, “I just want her to be proud of me.”

“She is, she is so proud of you. We both are.”

***

Later, when Marie comes home, Y/N sits nervously on the couch. She and Laura practiced this whole speech that Y/N would say to explain how she was feeling and why she was feeling that way and Y/N was determined to say it. She was still running it over in her head when she hears Marie come in, when she hears Marie let Arlo off the leash, when she hears Marie greet Laura and walk towards the living room. Y/N takes a deep breath to center herself and stands. Marie pauses when she sees Y/N. Y/N opens her mouth to begin, but what comes out of her mouth is this:

“Mama.”

And then Y/N is crying and she throws herself into Marie’s arms. Marie freezes for a second, then she’s wrapping Y/N up in a tight hug.

“Oh, mon petite lapinou,” Marie says, “It’s alright, I got you, it’s alright.”

“I’m sorry,” Y/N cries, “I’m sorry.”

“Non, non,” Marie says firmly, “You have nothing to be sorry about, I am the one who needs to apologize. I’m sorry I pushed you and I’m sorry I upset you and I’m sorry you felt like I didn’t care.”

When Y/N finally stops crying, Marie pulls back and takes Y/N’s face in her hands.

“Are you okay now, mon petite lapinou?” Marie asks.

“Yeah,” Y/N wipes at her eyes, but Marie swats her hands away and wipes the tears away herself, much gentler than Y/N would’ve. Marie gives Y/N a kiss on the forehead.

“From now on, we won’t talk about hockey at all unless you bring it up first, okay?” Marie says.

“You don’t have to do that,” Y/N says, “It’s okay–”

“There are lots of things that we can talk about that aren’t hockey,” Marie says, “Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Now that that’s over,” Laura says, “Can we go back to enjoying Y/N’s visit?”

Marie and Y/N look at each other, and Y/N can see the same idea pop up in Marie’s head. They grin at each other then both turn to Laura. Laura realizes a moment too late and Marie and Y/N grab her and pull her down on the couch. Laura shrieks as Marie and Y/N wrestle her down. Almost immediately Arlo jumps on them and Y/N laughs so hard her sides hurt as Arlo alternates between licking Laura and Marie’s faces.

As Y/N watches Laura and Marie and Arlo wrestle on the couch, she’s really happy she took this trip, and she’s really happy she chose to play hockey and that it’s brought her to this moment right here.

[sensei-venus]

I was just thinking about this because of Ralphs birthday.

Cheerleader AU! Where both Daniel and Johnny end up being on the cheerteam at school. They both hate each other because they want to be “the guy” on the cheerleading team. They constantly argue in front of the team. Trying to get the same role for practice and games. It gets physical so many times that the coaches have to pull them off of each other.

Daniel always ends up walking of with Ali and Susie.

While Johnny sneers at him, throwing his duffle bag over his shoulder and walking off with the cobras.

Then one day Reader moves to town, with a big smile she comes to the football field after school looking to try out for the team. She talks with the coaches telling them she was on her last schools cheerteam. She knows the team has already had tryouts for the year but in her defense it was still the beginning school year. Doing the most she could she gives them puppy dog eyes as she asks to join the team. The coaches step away for a quick chat with each other. They admit that one of the girls from last year transferred out last minute leaving a spot open. With that being said they go back and tell Reader she's in.

She practically skips across the field to meet everyone. She's so excited to be on a new team and meet new people.

Most of the girls are really nice to her but some of them start giving her the side eye pretty quickly. They take notice of the fact that's shes a bit bigger than most of the other girls on the team. She is curvy and chubby, most of the other girls are either super athletic or on the skinny side. Mentally they question what position she is going to take on the team. Reader chats with some of the girls, hoping to get to know them a bit better.

Daniel and Johnny are on the side just watching her talk to the other girls. Both of them are taking her in. They can't help but look her figure over, she's curvy in all the right places and it catches their attention right off the bat.

Johnny can't stop himself from watching her ass bounce around with every little step she makes.

Daniel can't get over the way wide fluffy hips sway back and forth with every move.

This time instead of getting into each other's faces they stand next to each other unmoving. Johnny smirks as his eyes are trained on her Reader’s ass “ Your scrawny ass definitely can't pick her up, just give up and leave her to me.” he borderline hisses out. Daniel scoffs “Yeah well I could probably cover her better anyway, pretty boy.” Johnny grinds his teeth at the small boy's words.

Their rivalry only seems to grow now that they both have their eyes set on the new thick cheerleader on the team.



[polo-drone-084]

Grayden's Mascot Tryout Contest & The Gift of Knighthood

This story is based on the contest held within the Golden Army for additional mascots. It contains the results of the contest along with the introduction of a new additional mascot, Dorado. As also stated at the end of this story, I enjoyed all of the entries and creativity shown by the team. Any negative criticism given in this story is purely fictional.

------

Grayden's Mascot Tryout Contest & The Gift of Knighthood

Grayden, the Head Mascot of the Golden Army entered the conference room. He had a lot to tell Captain Brody and Captain Scott. Upon entering he saw that Scott was in his Drone Cap Polo, he wasn't sure how to take in DC-009 remembering that he had a drone side himself also. He had to focus though, he was Grayden for this meeting not PDU-084.

Brody and DC-009 greeted Grayden and the meeting started. 

“So Grayden, you said this was urgent. What's up?” Brody asked. 

“Caps we have a mascot shortage. We have a few bros or drones that fill-in from time to time, but none of them have been trained to be mascots.” Grayden continued.

“What are you attempting to assert?” DC-009 interjected. 

“I think we need tryouts for more mascots, maybe even let the team make new mascots beyond the Golden Knight and pups, if they want.” Grayden continued. 

“But don't you, Bucky, and Matthew “Max” have it covered?” Brody questioned. 

“I thought we did, but Bucky has had other obligations. Hockey season is fast approaching. Max and I are both needed for the Golden Ice Hockey Team. That kind of leaves us short on a mascot.” Grayden responded. 

“DC-009 approves request for tryouts, Grayden.” DC-009 stated, not breaking Drone speech. 

“I agree with Scott, I mean DC-009. I’m okay with tryouts.” Brody asserted. 

Grayden, Matthew “Max”, and Bucky all posted flyers around the team stadium and in the nearby town. Mascots needed, all may apply. Open tryouts, Saturday. Must bring a Golden Knight costume or other appropriate costume for tryouts.

Finally Saturday came; Grayden, Matthew, and Bucky all sat and watched as various golden bros, drones, and even some fans tried out.

Grayden yawned after the first few though. None showed the drive needed to be a Golden Army mascot. As a mascot, you needed to know not only how to support the team, but how to get the fans excited. It wasn't something just anyone could do.

As the day rushed by, Grayden, Matthew, and Bucky shared their thoughts. They had to choose at least one new mascot, even if they were only there for the Ice Hockey games when Grayden and Matthew were playing.

“I really think more Golden pups would be cool. I mean everyone loves Max.” Matthew stated.

“Unfortunately Matt, no Golden pups tried out. Maybe we should have asked Chevy. Did you have any standouts?”

“I was surprised Cletus was here.” Bucky stated, his voice coming out of the hulking, muscular, Golden Knight costume.

“Yeah he was a pleasant surprise. His armor was cool, but I just don't know…” Grayden added, somewhat hesitantly.

“What about Grant then, he had a few ideas. But I swear he was here in like 5 different costumes.” Matthew said.

“I liked Grant’s enthusiasm, but there were some costumes and designs I liked better. That Golden puma was a little too realistic for me.” Grayden responded.

“What about that new waterboy, Jett and new recruit, Hans? Their golden Gladiators looked great.” Bucky stated.

“How did Jett and Hans afford a whole cast of actors? I loved the looks, but I want mascots not the Golden Army visits Sparta. If they want to film a promotional film though, we could give them a call.” Grayden asserted, seeming a little annoyed.

“Weren’t Captain Scott and Coach Chet also here?” Matthew asked, noticing Grayden getting frustrated with the lack of results.

“Cap’s designs looked hot, but I’m not sure how family friendly the better ones are. Coach, he did good, but he's Coach.” Grayden said, dismissively.

“I also wanted to say PDU-151 had some really hot designs with that drone lion and drone bull, but the team needs mascots we can have around kids. They seemed a little too adult. I loved the designs though.” Grayden added.

“You're being really dramatic Grayden, do you have any that passed your high bar?” Bucky asked.

“Yes, there were three standouts. Maximus/PDU-070, PDU-001, and Leon & Leander’s group effort.” Grayden said.

Shock filled Matthew’s face. “Leon seemed like he didn't want this though. Like he just wanted to show off some designs.”

“I don't disagree, I was shocked he was here. But Leander is also a mascot fill-in. He was modeling Leon’s design. Their combined effort showed a sexy, but still family friendly design.” Grayden responded.

(This picture was made by Leander/PDU-088 from Leon's prompt)

“But do we need a tiger when we have pups?” Matthew tried to add.

“Do you know how many horny furries would buy tickets to our games to just watch Leander or someone as a big, buff, latex tiger?” Grayden tried to retort.

“I think we’ll need to take that up with the Captains or management.” Bucky added.

“Okay fine, but we still had Maximus and 001 show great skills and resolve as mascots.” Grayden continued.

“So are they your winners?” Matthew asked.

“I think 001 is too busy with other things to be a mascot, so he is just a runner-up. The winner is definitely Maximus. He went above and beyond expectations. I’ll have to get him knighted as an official Golden Knight. As for the tiger, we’ll see what management says.”

News soon spread of Maximus’s victory in the tryouts.

(Picture submitted by Maximus/PDU-070 in his entry)

The team congratulated Maximus as he stood fully suited in his new slightly more futuristic Golden Knight.

After being showered in applause he was called forward to be knighted by Grayden. Grayden was still new to this process, but he took his prop sword and leaned it on Maximus’ costumed shoulders as he declared, “I, Grayden as head mascot, knight thee Maximus as the newest addition to our team’s mascots. Welcome bro.”

Maximus gladly accepted the position, becoming the fourth main mascot of the team.

As for Leon’s design, that Leander helped to model. Grayden got word from management that the tiger was approved. Leon and Grayden’s name idea of Dorado was also approved. Dorado would prove to be a sexy and menacing force for away games and the occasional home game.

Grayden looked for Leander a few days later. The bro was standing outside Ezan’s office looking a little hesitant when Grayden approached.

“Hey Grayden bro, what's up? I’m not doing anything.” Leander said nervously.

“Don't worry bro, I won't tell Ezan you were waiting for him. But I did want to offer you a mascot position. You showed a lot of resolve in tryouts and management loved you and Leon’s idea.”

“Mascots are pillars of support on the team. We are always there when a bro or drone needs support. We also need to be ready to rile up fans, and build team spirit.”

Grayden explained the key things needed for a mascot and showed Leander the mock-up designs and ideas for Dorado. Leander without much hesitation, accepted. He was already an occasional fill-in, but becoming the fifth major mascot meant a lot to him. He loved serving the team. He would become the intimidating presence of Dorado at some of the Golden Army’s away games and an occasional home game.

His buff anthropomorphic figure made Dorado popular among some of the kids, but also furries. Quickly getting some fan fiction that some of the team couldn't help, but enjoy.

Congratulations to Mascot Tryout winner:

PDU-070/Maximus @polo-drone-070

Runner-Ups:

Leon & Leander/PDU-088 @leon-gold and @leander-gold-88

Third place:

Ezan/PDU-001 @polo-drone-001

Everyone deserves an honorable mention for putting out some great pictures and ideas. The criticisms expressed above were purely for the story, I loved all of the entries and had a hard time deciding.

Interested in joining the Golden Army? Maybe you want to be a mascot too, or a fellow golden bro that gets to play with the mascots? Contact recruitment, if interested @goldenherc9 , @brodygold , or @polo-drone-001

[bulletfragment]

85 Granny jokes by Adam Lanza

1. Granny! Swallow this candy! We need a pinata!

2. Granny! I'II never get better at target practice if you keep running away!

3. Granny! I told you steroids would do that to you!

4. Granny! What do you mean you're hungry!? I fed you last week!

5. Granny! I told you that you can't go sky diving without a parachute!

6. Granny! Stop screaming! I told you that coffee was hot! Now go dry your hair!

7. Granny! Don't be selfish! Let the dog eat your last finger!

8. Granny! There is a sale at the funeral home! Die already!

9. Granny! That's not a playground! That's a construction site!

10. Granny! Keep the crumbs in your beard so the rats don't go hungry!

11. Granny! Granny! Why are there seven stuffed dwarfs hung on the wall!?

12. Granny! You breath 7 quarts of oxygen a minute! Not 7 teaspoons!

13. Granny! What are you doing with that butter knife!?
Ahh! No! Help me!

14. Granny! The monolith already came, but you are still so stupid!

15. Granny! What is Jimmy Hoffa doing under your bed!?

16. Granny! Get out of the front seat! You know that's where the dog sits!

17. Granny! You have plenty of room in the new car! There is a bigger trunk!

18. Granny! Stop knawing on your leg! You don't kno' where its been!

19. Granny! Hamsters are not part of the four food groups! 

20. Granny! Put this tape on your tongue and lick that electrical socket!

21. Granny! How'd you get your diaper off!?

22. Granny! Put your seatbelt back on! Do you want to fly out….. Oops! Too late!

23. Granny! Stop chewing your diaper!

24. Granny! Pull up your pants! You weren't raised in the Ghetto!

25. Granny! Stop screaming or I'II break your other leg!

26. Granny! Stop running in circles or I'll nail your other foot to the floor!

27. Granny! Why are you next to that lava pit with your swimming suit on!?

28. Granny! Why are you pouring petroleum all around the neighbor's house!? And what's up with that lighter!?

29. Granny! What are you doing at the MBA tryouts!?

30. Granny! Open the window! That smell is going to kill me!

31. Granny! Get out of the road! You aren't a speed bump!

32. Granny! Eat this poisonous fish! It's good for you!

33. Granny! Granny! We don't need no steenkin' Granny!

34. Granny! What do you mean you weren't kidnapped by comprachicos!?

35. Granny! Don't play with that knife! Play with the sharper one!

36. Granny! Stop farting! You killed the cat!

37. Granny! There is a lot of Traffic! Why don't you play outside!?

38. Granny! Stop eating! That's how people live!

39. Granny! This is a petting zoo! Not an all-you-can-eat buffet!

40. Granny! This is a sit-down restaurant! Not a disco club!

41. Granny! Aim your cane somwhere else!

42. Granny! Stop drinking out of the toilet!

43. Granny! Stop, drop, and roll!

44. Granny! Who let you out of the refrigerator box!?

45. Granny! Next time we go to the supermarket, we need to get the ultra-absorbancy diapers!

46. Granny! Stop flying around the room! Get back down here!

47. Granny! Why are you still out there!? Didn't the garbage men take you!?

48. Granny! Don't get spit on the dog's chew toy!

49. Granny! Put that fire out! That's the baby!

50. Granny! Get your spleen off the table!

51. Granny! Why aren't you on your leash!?

52. Granny! You smell like a goat!

53. Granny! Why did you put Bess on all the computers in the town!?

54. Granny! Why are you in the furnace!?

55. Granny! Why is John Lennon at the breakfast table!?

56. Granny! If you put your finger in the pencil sharpener, I'lI give you a ring!

57. Granny! I have the $2,000 you wanted from the police! Now slowly hand over the baby hostage!

58. Granny! Why is Elvis Presley in the closet!?

59. Granny! Where are you going with that sledge hammer?!

60. Granny! If you have to up-chuck, do it on the neighbors, not me!

61. Granny! Stick a fork in the toaster when it's on and I'II give you a bottle of water!

62. Granny! Tell Elvis to stop playing with the shades and go home!

63. Granny! How about you go in that refrigerator box so I can lock you in!?

64. Granny! How long have you been stuck under the garage door!?

65. Granny! If you need to go, use the bathroom, not the carpet!

66. Granny! Run around with these scissors!

67. Granny! What are you doing with that chainsaw!?

68. Granny! Hide! The Grim Reaper has come for you!

69. Granny! Get your head out of the mailbox! The mailman is coming!

70. Granny! How'd you get your face on the quarter!?

71. Granny! get your arm out of the meat grinder!

72. Granny! Get out of the stove! I'm baking a turkey!

73. Granny! Stop walking on the walls! I just put up wet paint.

74. Granny! Don't do that! Do you want to give the dog fleas!?

75. Granny! The paint in the bathroom is chipping!

76. Granny! Eat some more! Your worms are still hungry!

77. Granny! Just wipe off the maggots and keep eating!

78. Granny! Of course you don't need water to climb Mount Washington! Now go have some fun!

79. Granny! I told you to fetch the stick, not eat it!

80. Granny! Stop eating and leave some poison for the rats!

81. Granny! Clean your room! The rats have created a union in there!

82. Granny! Put down that beer and use your blinker!

83. Granny! Stop eating those! The carwash will take care of them!

84. Granny! I don't care if the water's cold! Take your bath and flush when you're finished!

85. Granny! That's not a steak, It's the baby's diaper!