#at least my girl looks fine as hell your man looks fuCKING CRUSTY AS SHIT

[mocha-bunbun]

i will not accept columbina slander

[g0dspeeed]

Liar, Liar

For @constantzeigarnik

"V unabashedly flirting with Viktor, just laying it on real thick for the ripperdoc, and Viktor just not being prepared for it in the slightest."

“Liar, liar.”

The words came out in a tired sigh with a voice that hopefully sounded as indifferent as V intended.

The pair was laid out on the hood of Panam’s latest wheels, eyes closed, and cold drinks in hand. After helping the Aldecaldo get the ride from a locked storage yard, V had offered to relax beneath the shade of a highway overpass while they waited for the client to arrive. Panam accepted without a second thought. Between the two of them, a break from daily survival in Night City seemed in order.

Supposed to be chill.

Just two friends sippin’ on a dry afternoon.

No worries.

No stress for an hour.

That was before their present conversation, one that V was trying desperately to avoid.

“Yeah, I’m the liar here,” returned Panam. “And Night City is family friendly. At least I’m not the one in denial that my ripperdoc has the hots for me.”

V turned to shoot her friend a dark look. The nomad smirked as the warning fell flat. Despite V’s best efforts, Panam could see right through her: She was absolutely fuckin’ right.

“Think ya’ got it all wrong,” V maintained in a cool tone.

“Oh, do I?”

V cringed.

“Only met the guy one time,” Panam said. “Felt like a third wheel between the two of you eye-fuckin’ each other. Almost walked outta there see what that psychic girl was sellin’.”

A new warmth began stinging V’s cheeks and Panam frowned at her friend’s lack of response.

This was new territory. Seeing V react this way was beyond strange. One of the most capable people Panam had ever met was turning red over a man. Borderline bizarre. Truly, the entire conversation was out of the norm.

“Shit,” muttered Panam. At her best efforts at being soft, she added, “Don’t feel bad, V. The guy’s stacked like a fucking truck.”

At that, V finally let her guard down. She grinned as Panam gently shoved her shoulder.

“There she is. Just let that denial fade away-”

“Fuck off.”

“What the hell are you afraid of?” asked Panam. “Rejection?”

V looked at her energy drink, swiveling the liquid around before relenting.

“I mean, yeah, kinda.”

An eye roll and a heavy groan came from the woman beside her.

“Yeah okay,” said Panam. “Like he’d reject a woman half his age, much less a badass like you. V, I saw it for myself. The guy thinks you’re hot. Caught ‘im lookin’ at your ass. Not only that, he cares, like genuinely cares about you, which says a lot for people like us. Next time you see him, just lay it on thick and be done.”

V scrunched her eyes shut at her friend’s advice. Just talking about openly pursuing Viktor Vector made V’s stomach twist into knots. As much as she was the badass that Panam knew her to be, for V to explore an actual romantic relationship outside of ‘eye-fucking’ and the occasional one-night stand with some rando from Afterlife was not something V was familiar with. Her days were chaotic. Her lifestyle was that of constant motion. Viktor, in all his edginess, was stable, consistent, and secure. Also, she enjoyed the subtly they shared, the skirting around the topic of their flirty friendship, or whatever it was, from the safety of fleeting looks, suggestive undertones, and the occasional wink.

Then again, if V were honest with herself, it never seemed to be enough. V couldn’t deny that each time she left his clinic she wanted more. Craved more. More time, more privacy, more touch. She was her own worst enemy in all of those categories, always the first to shy away, to change the subject, to wander off.

“Worst case scenario,” breathed Panam. “He’s not interested in dating someone younger. Or just wants to be friends. That’s fine. Whatever. Should that happen, you delta outta there, lay low for a few weeks, find a new doc, and move on.”

“I can’t just delta out of his life,” groaned V. “He’s been my ripperdoc since I came to Night City. He’s also one of my closest friends-”

“Ok, then suffer. Fuck! Just do something. You’re killing me with this in between bullshit.”

Hours later, their conversation from under the overpass played on repeat inside V’s head. Panam cannot sugar coat anything. She might be physically incapable of doing that. Her words came straight from the heart and that’s what made what she had to say so sincere.

That is at least what V was telling herself as she steadily made her way down the steps to Viktor’s clinic, hands clammy, and body keyed up.

Part of her hoped that he was out or tied up with a patient. Maybe he would tell her to come by later.

She scoffed.

What a stupid thought. She was too quick to forget how often he invited her to stick around if he were operating, how she would wait at his workbench or nap on his crusty couch in the back. Sure enough, she could hear the man whistling below, the cheery sound echoing to where she hesitated. She swallowed.

With a final deep breath, V summoned up the bravery to walk through the metal gate.

Hunched over his operating chair, Viktor appeared to be wiping down between appointments, his rich voice humming along to some song in his head. V watched for a moment, taking in the serene sight before approaching the ripperdoc.

“Surprised you’re not watching a match,” she said.

The humming stopped. His head cocked at hearing her voice.

Without turning he responded, “Aren’t any on right now or you know I would be.”

The rag was tossed down and Viktor shifted to look at her.

V’s stomach flipped. His blue button-up was stained with a dark, oily substance all over the front. The top buttons were either missing or dangling from bits of string, leaving the shirt partly undone and exposing his undershirt. V’s eyebrows furrowed as she noticed a small crack that cut in the corner of his glasses just above a small nick on his cheekbone.

“You look-”

“Like shit?” he finished with a grin.

Viktor crossed his arms, drawing V’s attention to his thick biceps in a knee-jerk reaction.

“Bet so,” he continued. “Someone brought in his friend after a run in with the Tyger Claws, all blood clots and broke teeth. The gonk was scared out of his goddamn mind. Took a toll just to sedate ‘im.”

His smile had turned into a smirk, something confident and full of swagger as he told his story. He wore it well, mastering the balance found only in seasoned residents of Night City, of those who earned their street cred by way of blood, grit, and never backing down. V’s lips pursed at how his eyes looked to hers past those dark lenses.

Here would be the part where V ran away, ran from opportunity, from her feelings. He dared to look at her the way he did in that moment, so smooth, so confident. The man had to know. Viktor had to recognize how he affected her, had to notice how her eyes appreciated his physique, how her complexion warmed when he touched her. His frame had turned to face hers, all broad shoulders and aftershave.

She could step back.

Look away.

This was where she could coolly suppress her attraction and change the subject.

But not today.

“Here,” she said warmly.

V stepped close to the ripperdoc, shrinking the gap between their bodies as her fingers gently plucked the man’s glasses from his face. Viktor blinked in surprise and swallowed as she studied the damaged lens with a critical eye, her own smirk pulling at her full lips.

“Gonna need new ones, doc,” she told him.

Next, V carefully folded the glasses and slid them onto the collar of her top. Viktor’s eyes tracked her movements before quickly glancing away. Ever the gentleman.

“But don’t worry,” continued V. “The rest of you I can remedy.”

He chuckled.

“The rest of me?”

V looked up. She nearly gasped. For Viktor to wear those damn shaded glasses was a sin. The bluest blue that V had ever seen, his eyes were deep like ocean water. There was longing in them. Desire. He adored V for standing so close and showing such concern for his wellbeing. Christ, she could get lost in those eyes if he kept looking at her like that.

To answer his question, V tugged at the hem of his soiled shirt. He stiffened.

“Are you tryin’ to say that you like being covered in… whatever this is?” she mused.

“Well, no-”

In a near whisper, V begged, “Then come on, Vik. Let me play doctor for once.”

Fuck.

The way she was looking up at him with that smile, those bedroom eyes, leaning close like that with her fingers tugging on his shirt and talkin’ in that sweet, sexy voice.

Who was Viktor to deny her?

He sighed out a ‘Fine’ and nodded in agreement. Consent confirmed, V went to work. V’s fingers moved to undo the remaining buttons of his shirt, but Viktor stopped her hands. His own hands were warm, a little rough with scars and callouses on the tips and knuckles. In response to V’s questioning look, Viktor grabbed his shirt and ripped the buttons loose with a jerk. They pattered at their feet.

“Trash,” he stated as he slid his arms free from his shirt. Like the buttons, it went airborne and landed in a nearby biohazard bin.

“Hey now,” warned V with mock annoyance. “I said let me play doctor.”

“Oh am I being a bad patient?” returned Viktor.

To his surprise, V placed her palm at the center of his chest. Her fingers flexed gently against his undershirt, making Viktor’s heart race. She then gave a gentle shove.

“The worst,” she teased as Viktor let her push him back into his own operating chair.

Even if he wanted to, there was no way that Viktor could hide his smile. He was at a loss. What in the world had gotten into V? Not that he was complaining of course, but he was so used to waiting. The flirting, the winks, all those playful innuendos had been going on for such a long time. By now, Viktor simply accepted that she wouldn’t push it further, that their friendship or whatever they had, consisted of only those teasing moments. Nothing more. In the end he believed that V didn’t want anything deeper with the ripperdoc. And that was fine. A bummer, but fine. Didn’t feel bad about it. Didn’t resent her. She was younger, a wild one who made a hobby out of recklessly injuring herself doing God knows what in the city. The man wasn’t new to women or intimacy, and with a woman like V he thought it best to let her set the terms, especially considering that she was after all his patient. A patient who ate his food, slept on his couch, completely ignored his work schedule, and called him ‘pretty boy’ on the regular. A patient no less.

So imagine how fast his heart was racing as her fingers softly cupped his cheek, at how her body leaned in close as she inspected the small cut beneath his eye. Viktor tried his hardest to look off into nothingness rather than at her breasts. Tried to ignore how delicious she smelled. Was she wearing perfume-

“Breathe, Vik,” she mumbled. “Can’t have my first patient black out on me.”

She fucking winked and that goddamn smirk of hers graced her lips.

“I, uh,” he began. He laughed, a bit too nervously for his liking. “I’m sorry, just, just distracted. It doesn’t hurt that much, ya know.”

“How’d he get ya?” asked V.

To Viktor’s disappointment, V stepped away from the chair and walked towards his workbench. He didn’t miss how her hips swayed or how she bent over to grab his medical kit in a nearly exaggerated manner. The way she looked into his eyes while she straightened, all slow and sensual with those curves of hers, went immediately to his dick. He swallowed.

“Um,” he said stupidly. “He, uh, headbutted me. With his head.”

“Ouch,” she replied.

Before she returned to the flustered ripperdoc, V shimmied out of her bomber jacket and tossed it on his workbench. A tattered crop top pulled against her skin as she shook out her dark hair.

Viktor had the decency to rest his hands in his lap to shield the effect that the merc had on him.

Her tongue wet her lips as she fished through the kit for what she wanted. The glance she shot in his direction proved that there was no innocence in the act.

What the fuck was happening?

That question repeated itself over and over again in his mind as she again bent closely towards his body to apply a Q-tip to the wound, offering another delicious view of her ample breasts.

“Can I get some feedback, doc?” she asked quietly.

Viktor swallowed, his mouth dry like sand.

“Yeah, kid,” he replied lowly.

V paused her work to truly look at him, to gaze into those gorgeous eyes of his. Then, all calm and collected, V perched herself next to him at the edge of the operating chair. Viktor allowed her some room as she cupped his cheek with her other hand, her breasts resting on his torso as she leaned into him. Her thumb ghosted his skin, tempting. Teasing. Viktor ignored the urge to press against the throbbing hardness in his pants. The cut long forgotten, his attention was caught up in V’s eyes, the warmth of her skin, her smell, the sultriness of her voice.

“Do you want me?”

Her mouth was so close to his. The warmth of her breath tickled his skin like static. Viktor’s eyes shut in anticipation as V slowly drew herself to his lips.

He felt nothing, but heard the soft tear of paper. Viktor’s eyes fluttered open, brow crinkling in confusion. V had sat up and was unwrapping a small bandage, her eyes fixated on the task while he gaped at her. When it was open, she reached out and carefully applied the bandage to the cut on Viktor’s cheek.

“All done,” she stated in a chipper tone, a wide smile stretched from ear to ear.

Viktor smirked.

“Oh yeah?” he questioned. “Think you’re hot shit giving this old man a heart attack?”

“Think I gave you more than that, pretty boy.”

Her eyes flickered to his lap and back to those ocean eyes. Viktor sat up in the chair, his hands not budging as if his life depended on it.

“You never answered me,” said V, the playfulness gone from her voice and replaced with a feeling that Viktor found it hard to describe.

There was no mystery, however, to how he felt in hearing it. His heart melted at her words, at how the game was finally over and that she, beautiful V, wanted to know if he wanted her. A stupid question, really, but an important one all the same.

“Ah V,” he said with a sigh.

Panic alit her eyes like fire, but it was quickly doused as Viktor took her by the hand.

“Of course I do,” Viktor replied earnestly. He gave her hand a small squeeze. “I’d be a fuckin’ liar if I didn’t.”

For whatever reason, Viktor saw V blink as if there was something odd in what he said. The moment was short and quickly forgotten as V embraced him so hard that the pair fell back in his operating chair, his arm wrapped around waist and his lips pressed into her hair.

[hippiebuckyharrington]

Just that Lucky

This is for the @harringroveweekoflove prompt secret admirer. 

Read below or on ao3 (it’s 9K so I’d recommend this) here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22703350

5.       The first one is in his gym locker.

 Billy’s early to practice, his English teacher was on the verge of a mental breakdown because of how idiotic her students are and let them out early. He wrenches open his locker and blinks down at the piece of paper sitting on top of the slightly crusty pile of gym shorts at the bottom. He glances around, and then picks it up. It was lying there kinda haphazardly, like it had been shoved through the grate on the front.

 Billy unfolds it, feeling unsure.

Billy,

 I like the way you chew on a pencil when you focus hard on your homework. Makes me look at your mouth, which then makes me think about your mouth on things that aren't a pencil. That got dirty quick didn't it? Yikes. But you're sitting there, out in public, reading fucking Pride and Prejudice, and chewing on your damn pencil, and I can't focus on anything else. Who let you be so handsome?! It's a crime.

 Well, not a crime. But still, I gotta finish this damn assignment, and tell me, how the hell am I supposed to do that with you looking like that? Fucking rude.

 Sorry if this is objectifying, my friend says I shouldn't objectify people, regardless of their gender. But you've got a great mouth, and I bet you're understanding every word of that damn novel. I read about two pages and gave up because I didn't understand a single damn word.

 I hope you smile at this; you deserve smiles.

 Love,

One of what I'm sure are a 100 secret admirers.

 Billy just gapes down at the messy handwriting scrawling over the half a page. It's weird and rambling, not quite written like a letter would normally be, but like whoever this is was just writing down literally everything they thought.

 Billy reads it again. He was reading Pride and Prejudice during lunch yesterday, sitting in the sunshine on the hood of Carol’s car, while she and Tommy made out in the back of the car. He had a quiz over parts of the book that afternoon. Tons of people had been in the parking lot, eating lunch or smoking and enjoying the sunshine and warmth that's so rare for this time of year in Hawkins. Tons of girls had grinned at him, and flirted as they passed, so it's absolutely impossible to know who wrote the letter.

 Billy hears Tommy yelling from out in the gym, and swears softly before shoving the note in his backpack, and changing quickly. He's sitting on the bench, tying his shoes when Harrington and Tommy walk in.

 "Yo Hargrove! What's up?" Tommy yells. Billy rolls his eyes. Harrington goes to his locker.

 "Hey." He says softly.

 "Hi." Billy answers, and hates the way his heart stutters a little. He apologized for beating Steve up, and now they are sort of friends, maybe? It's all confusing, because Billy has maybe just a bit of a crush on Steve.

 Billy ties his shoes and goes out to the gym to start warming up for practice.

 After practice, and chores and yelling, and all the joys that the Hargrove house offers as after school enrichment, when he's curled in bed, he rereads the note, and smiles a little. It's nice to know that someone thought of him like that.

  4.       The next one he finds taped to the underside of his desk.

 He's having a rough day, he had a rough morning, his back still aching from the bookcase he was shoved into, and he's just tired of everything. He drops into his seat, and drops his head to his desk, waiting for Mr. Peters to start the class. He's not really in the mood for math today. The rest of the class files in around him, getting out their homework, and chatting. Billy digs his out, and thinks it on the desk but it goes fluttering off the desk and under to the neighboring one. He sighs, and smiles a little when the girl next to him picks it up and hands it to him.

 "There's something under your desk." She says. Billy moves his feet but sees only cheap linoleum. "No, like taped under it." She says. Billy frowns and feels around, cringing away from the gum, until he finds the paper. He pulls it off, and frowns down at it.

 "Thanks." He says to the girl, who nods and goes back to finishing her homework. Billy glances at his name on the folded scrap, and then unfolds it.

 It's the same handwriting as the one form the other day, and Billy blinks a little in surprise.

 Billy,

 I walked by the gym the other day, and just about died. Your class was apparently lifting weights? I didn't even know we had a weight room! So, I guess I walked by the weight room and not the gym. Anyway, you were lying on the weight bench, pressing so much my mouth went dry. Holy shit. Your arms have no business looking that good. How much were you pressing there, babe? It looked like a lot. I bet it was a lot. God. It's unfair. How can you look so good all the time? How is it that you sweaty and grunting is such a turn on? Actually, I just read that and I get it now. That makes tons of sense. Never mind.

 You didn't see me watching, gaping like a fish. I'm glad of that, because that would have been super awkward.

 I realize that I'm objectifying you again, but it's not creepy. At least it's not supposed to be.

 I have nightmares, I can't sleep through the night, not for almost a year now. I won't bore you with the details, but watching those impressive arms of yours, I realized something. I realized that I'd feel really safe with you holding me in those muscly arms of yours. Bet I'd actually sleep through the night if you held me. Hell, even if you were in the bed with me, I bet I'd sleep just fine. I'm so tired, this doesn't make any sense. Sorry.

 I want to fall asleep in your arms, I want to feel safe again.

 Love,

Probably your most depressing secret admirer.

 Billy just stares down at this letter. His heart aches for whoever this is. He wonders how tall they are, would they fit well in his arms? He assumes they would, and wouldn't mind holding someone as they slept, helping them finally catch the rest they so obviously need.

 Billy tucks the letter in his notebook and tries to focus on the class. He had weights yesterday, so he wonders how long the note has been sitting there. And he wonders all through the lesson, if the writer got any more sleep last night.

 He wonders all through the rest of the day, glancing at all the girls to see who's looking especially tired today. He watches a fair amount of the guys too; girls are normally more flowery in their writing than this person is. And not that he's out or anything, but he's gay, so he hopes it's a guy.

 Billy heads to lunch, scowling out the windows. It's snowing, because of course it is. He's not watching where he's going so he collides with someone, and drops his bag and his lunch, papers and his sandwich scattering everywhere.

 "Oh fuck. Sorry, sorry I'm sorry." Steve says and crouches to start gathering the papers. He's grateful the letter is tucked away in his pocket and not among the notes and homework scattered around the hall.

 "Relax, Harrington." Billy says, and bends to pick his things up too. He glances at Steve and then just stares. Steve looks exhausted, dark circles under his eyes, and tiredness tugging his mouth into a frown.

 "You ok?" Billy asks. Steve nods and shoves his papers back at him.

 "I wouldn't eat that sandwich. Can I buy you lunch?" Steve asks. Billy blinks.

 "You don't have to Harrington, really, it's ok." Billy says. Steve sighs, and digs in his pocket, handing Billy a five.

 "Just take it ok. Sorry to ruin your lunch."

 "Jesus Harrington. What's wrong?" Billy asks.

 "Nothing. I was up late last night." Steve says, and then walks away, hands shoved in his pockets and head down. Billy stares down the hall after him, wondering why Steve looks so rough. Maybe he and the rumor of the week had a fight. He remembers the letter, but dismisses the thought that it’s Steve, because Billy’s not that lucky.

Billy stare’s after the retreating man, and wishes, not for the first time, that he could pull Steve close and tell him everything will be ok.

  3.       The third one Max actually hands him.

 He's waiting at the arcade for her and her friends to be done. He’s bored, so he's sitting in his car, working on his math homework and smoking. A car pulls in next to him, and he glances over, smiling a little when he recognizes Steve’s BMW. Steve leans over and puts down his passenger side window, and nods a little at Billy.

 "Hey." He says, and he looks better than he did last week, less exhausted.

 "Heya pretty boy." Billy teases. Steve grins a little, and flushes slightly.

 "Waiting for Max?" Steve asks. Billy nods, scribbling down an answer.

 "Here for Dustin?" Billy asks.

 "And Will and Mike, and Lucas, and probably El." Steve says, and grins a little.

 "Damn Harrington."

 "I offered." Steve says, with a shrug. "Hey, can I bum a cigarette?" Steve asks. Billy nods, grabs one out of his pack and stretches to hand it over, then holds out his Zippo. He glances up from the problem he was working on when Steve doesn't take it. Instead, Steve puts the cigarette between his lips, and leans over, raising an eyebrow.

 Billy blinks, and his mouth goes dry. He flips the Zippo open, and flicks it so the flame dances. His eyes are riveted to Steve's lips as they purse around the cigarette as he leans over to light it. They must look ridiculous, Billy leaning nearly all the way out of his car to reach, and Steve is leaning so far over the gearshift it's digging into his side. But Billy is enraptured with the flickering light playing on Steve’s face. Steve gets the cigarette lit and they both lean back into their seats.

 He takes a deep pull off the cigarette.

 "Thanks." He says, voice a little rough. Billy just nods, and turns back to his homework because he can't handle what just happened. It's quiet for a while, and then Billy reaches over and dumps the five dollars from the other day in Steve's window.

 "You didn't spend it?" Steve sounds surprised. Billy shrugs. "You should have, I ruined your lunch." Steve says.

 "I don't need it, I stole Carols fries, and Tommy had already bought me a burger." Billy says. The fries’ bit is true, the burger isn’t. But Steve hadn't been in the cafeteria so it didn't matter.

 "Oh. Well, I'm still sorry." Steve whispers. Billy laughs.

 "It's fine Harrington. Shit happens. I'm not mad. You act like I'm gonna hit you. I told you, October was a bad night for me, I'm really sorry for what happened, it won’t ever happen again." Billy says, frowning.

 "I don't think you're gonna hit me. I just feel bad." Steve says. Billy laughs.

 "Don’t, it's fine, really." Billy says, and finishes his homework, shoving it back in his backpack.

 They sit in silence for a moment, Steve finishing his cigarette, Billy trying not to stare too openly. The arcade bursts open and the kids come running out. The boys and El all pile into Steve's car, talking excitedly to him. Max slides into the front seat of the Camaro and hands Billy a folded piece of paper.

 "It was under the wiper." She says. Billy glances at it, and opens it up. Max is leaning around him to yell at her friends and Steve, a conversation he tunes out.

 Bills,

 You had your arm around Carol today. You guys were walking in from the parking lot, I was standing inside waiting for my friend, and I saw you tuck her up against your side. I know better than anyone that she's dating Tommy, but it still made my heart ache. I want to be the one under your arm. I know it was cold, and she is a bitch about the cold, always has been, but I hated seeing her there. I want to be who you pull close walking in to the school. I want to feel the warmth and weight of your arm around my shoulders as we walk.

 But I'm not like Carol. In a lot of ways, but I'm also taller than you. So maybe I should say I want to tuck you under my arm.

 I'm not writing this to be mad or anything, I'm just a little jealous. Because I really like you, and I really care about you. But I don't think that you feel the same way, I don't think you long for me the way I long for you. And that's ok, baby, really it is.

 That's why I don't sign these letters, why I try to avoid you, because I want to be the one you love so bad, I'm afraid if you look at me for too long, you're gonna see it in my eyes. And that if you see it you'll hate me.

 But I like to think that when you read these, you can picture them coming from whatever girl has caught your eye, and that they make you a little happy.

 I just want to make you happy.

 Love,

Your secret admirer that pines the most.

 Billy actually aches reading the words, more than he has reading the others. Whoever wrote them was right, Carol had been bitching about the cold, and he'd jokingly pulled her close. He hadn't seen anyone watching them, but he hates that he caused them any sort of pain. That's never what he wants, contrary to what people think.

Billy folds the letter, tucks it in his pocket. He'll reread it again at home. It's what he does every night, rereads each letter, touching his fingers gently to the words, wondering at the person who wrote them.

 Billy glances over at Steve, the kids are still shouting at each other, not angry shouting, just having a yelled conversation. But Steve is staring at Billy. When Billy meets his eyes, he flushes inexplicably, and suddenly yells at the kids to get their seatbelts on.

 "Is that another one?" Max asks, watching Steve's car tear out of the parking lot.

 "Yeah." He says. Max knows, because they are close, and she found a note. She didn't read the one she found in his jacket pocket, but she asked. Billy had explained and they had spent nearly an hour trying to figure out who wrote the letters.

 "Any idea who it is?" She asks.

 "Nope, not a clue." Billy says, and heads home.

 He gets in a fight with his dad later, and lies down on his bed, crying quietly, holding his ribs.

 Max creeps in after their parents go to bed, and offers an ice pack. She lies on his bed with him, head on his shoulder. She wordlessly hands him the little stack of letters, and closes her eyes and goes to sleep while he rereads them. They make him feel better, warm and lighter.

 2.       The next letter somehow winds up in the pocket of his jeans.

 He's not sure how. Well, that's not true. It had to have happened during basketball practice, that was the only time all day he was out of his jeans. But he didn't find it until it fluttered out of his pocket that night.

 He squashes the little flicker of hope he gets when he realizes it was placed during basketball practice, because there were no girls around at practice. Which means two things. The most likely is that one of the guys planted it for the girl who is writing, and that the first one he found in the locker room was planted by the same friend or she snuck in.

 The option Billy hopes for, quietly and to himself, is that some guy on the team is the secret admirer. He hopes its Steve. He knows that it’s not, he knows that. But God, Billy wants it to be, so so badly.

 He picks this note up, and is unfolding it when the phone rings. He leaps up and answers it, before his dad can yell.

 "Hello?" He says.

 "Oh wow. Didn't think you'd answer. I prepared a whole speech if someone who wasn't you answered and I had to ask for you." Steve is rambling. Billy can't believe it. Steve is calling him? Him?!

 "Harrington?" He asks.

 "Yeah. Hi." Steve says breathlessly.

 "Who's on the phone?" Neil barks from around the corner to the living room., pausing his argument with Susan, to yell at Billy.

"A friend, we have a school project, I told him not to call after 5." Billy says quickly.

 "Him?!" Neil cries. Billy winces, and is glad Neil can't see him.

 "Yeah, uh the teacher paired us; our last names are next to each other in the alphabet. I didn't get to pick. And he's dating Nancy Wheeler." Billy calls.

 "No, I'm not." Steve says, sounding confused. Billy closes his eyes.

 "Oh, well he's not allowed over here. And you have fifteen minutes. This can be done during school hours." Neil snaps, and then goes back to the argument.

 "Yes sir." Billy calls and then turns away from the living room.

 "Why are you calling?" Billy snaps, low and nervous.

 "Um… I just wanted to talk." Steve says. Billy frowns.

 "You want to what? Harrington, we don't do this. You can't call here." Billy snaps.

 "Well, I just… I thought…." Steve stutters. Billy sighs.

 "Out with it. Why did you actually call?" Billy asks, softly. Neil doesn't get mad at the soft voice, because he hates being disrupted, he prefers Billy silent or whispering.

 "Uh, Jonathan, Nancy and I are all going to drive over to Roan tomorrow and go to their movie theater and then grab pizza. Do... Do you want to come?" Billy blinks. Blinks again. And still can't believe what he heard.

 "Like a date?" He whispers, and worries Steve doesn't hear him.

 "No, God no. Ha-ha, I just don't want to third wheel with them. And we are friends, right? So, I thought we could spend some time together outside of basketball or class. Sorry, this was stupid. Sorry." Steve whispers.

 "No… uh… I'll come." Billy says.

 "Really?!"

 "Yes. But I really have to go now." Billy says, and then hangs up. He takes a deep breath and goes into his room, and waits a few minutes.

 He takes another deep breath and goes out to grab a glass of water from the kitchen. He stops in the living room. Neil and Susan are glaring at each other, Susan looking tired.

 "Excuse me." He says. Susan immediately straightens and turns to look at him, smiling. Neil scowls, and glares at him.

 "Uh, I have a date tomorrow, is it ok if I go?" He asks. Susan grins.

 "Of course, Billy, tomorrow's Friday, go have fun. I'll pick Max up from school" She says.

 "Who's the date with?" Neil demands.

 "Heather Holloway, we are going to go bowling and then to dinner after school. And then maybe to her parents’ house, they want me to come to game night." Billy lies smoothly. Heather is cool and if he tells her tomorrow, she'll cover for him.

 "Curfew is at 11." Is all Neil says. Billy nods and then goes to his room and quietly shuts the door, wincing when the argument in the living room picks up again.

 The note is still sitting on his bed. He sits down and unfolds it, smiling a little.

 Bills,

 I am currently third wheeling with my friends right now. We are at my place, watching a movie. They are curled together under a blanket (don't be gross nothing is happening aside from cuddles). But they look so content, I think she's gonna fall asleep on him. I wish you were here.

 I wish we were curled under a blanket. I want your head on my chest, I want to comb my fingers through your curls. Are they as soft as they look? I'm sure they are.

 I want to hear your sarcastic comments, I want to hear what you'd say to this movie. I want to lean down and kiss you the way my friends just did. I want to hold you close, and just enjoy being with you.

 I want to tuck my nose in your curls and just breathe you in. I want to hold you, and ease the tension I can see in your shoulders, and the hurt behind your eyes. I hate that you hurt. I hate that someone makes you ache like that. You should never hurt. Never.

 I have a confession. I saw you get one of these letters. I won't say which one. But I saw you get one, and the way you smiled at it. The way you read it, with such reverence. I've never seen your walls come down like that. I've never seen you look like that until you were reading my note, reading my words.

 And Bills, it filled me with such an ache, an ache to see you smile like that, actually at me, not at my notes. I want you to smile like that while looking in my eyes.

 I want to say sweet things to you, to your face. I can just picture it.

 Lying in bed with you, after we are together you know? Whispering sweet things, telling you nice wonderful things that you should hear all the time, and watching you smile like that. But this time, it’s all for me and only me. I want to be the only one who gets the real you, baby. I want the real you, and I want to hold you, always.

 I just want to love you, so so bad. I mean actually love you, not this pining bullshit.

Love,

The Secret Admirer who makes you smile like that

 Billy cries over the note, pressing it to his heart and letting the ache of longing both his own, and the one contained on the page, wash over him. He’s a little embarrassed at the tears, but the words resonate with him.

  1.       The fifth letter he finds right before hanging out with Steve.

  Heather is the best, and readily agrees to cover for him, without even asking why.

Billy is distracted all day thinking about the plans with Steve after school. He can hardly focus, and smokes nearly his whole pack of cigarettes he's so nervous.

 When school finally ends, he takes a fortifying breath and treks to the parking lot. Jonathan, Nancy and Steve are leaning against Steve's Beemer, and Billy nods at them, before dumping some books in his car. He dawdled enough that Susan has already come and gone with Max, so there are no worries she will see him.

 There's another note sitting on the windshield under the wiper again. He grabs it and then walks toward the others.

 "This is weird right?" Billy says when he walks up.

 "No. Steve wanted to invite you so you're coming. It's not weird. You know all the same shit we do, it's about time we all hung out." Nancy says. She means the upside down, which Billy found out about after beating Steve up. Max gave him only enough sedative to knock him out for maybe an hour. He woke up and found the thing in the freezer, and stuck around needing to know what the hell was going on. Max told him. And that was that.

 "Weird logic there Wheeler, but alright." He says.

 "Jon and Nance are gonna take their car, you ok to ride with me?" Steve asks. Billy shrugs.

 "Great, none of us have big enough cars to fit everyone comfortably. Steve, you'll follow us?" Nancy says. Steve nods and the other two head across the parking lot to their car. Billy climbs into Steve's car and shifts around nervously.

 "What's that?" Steve asks, following Jonathan’s car out of the lot. He means the note clutched in Billy's fist.

 "Nothing." Billy says, and pockets the note. Steve shrugs and they drive on in silence.

 "Do you know what you're doing for the summer?" Steve asks. Billy shrugs.

 "I might try and lifeguard. I've got a certification from Cali that still works here, so I think I can get hired." Billy mutters. "You?"

 "Don't know. Work probably. Go up to the lake with Robin probably." Steve says.

 "Robin? That your new girlfriend?" Billy asks.

 Steve laughs, "No. She's just a good friend of mine." Steve says. Billy nods.

 They lapse into silence. It's only about a 30-minute drive between Hawkins and Roan, and Billy sees a couple cars on the highway around them from Hawkins High. It's a popular Friday night destination apparently. Billy can't stop thinking about the note in his pocket. He can't decide what he wants.

 On the one hand, existing in an enclosed space near Steve is intoxicating, and he doesn't want to miss it. On the other, the notes from this secret admirer have meant so much to him, and he can't believe he's only gotten five in total. They've started taking up that much space in his life. He also doesn't want Steve to know, to see how much Billy needs this note, even though Steve sort of already saw the other day, this feels different.

 "Sorry." Steve says. "I'm sorry this is awkward."

 "You apologize too much pretty boy. Are you that afraid of me?" Billy asks.

 "No, I'm not afraid of you! Why would you say that?!" Steve says.

 "You apologize like you think I'm gonna beat you up again or something. I swear, I'm not. I don’t know why you don’t believe me." Billy mumbles.

 "No, I believe you! I don't think about that anymore. It's just a bad habit. My parents act like I can never do anything right, and they expect an apology for everything, just a habit. Sorry." Steve says, and then blushes a little.

 "Oh. Well you don't have to apologize to me, ok? I'm not mad at you, ever. Except when you missed that shot yesterday." Billy teases.

"Ok, first of all fuck you! Second of all, that was not my fault!" Steve shrieks.

 "Oh really?!" Billy says. Steve huffs indignantly and launches into a tirade on why the missed shot in yesterday's practice was not his fault. Billy argues back good naturedly and the car ride passes quickly.

 They pull up to a spot next to Jonathan and Nancy at the theater and argue for a few more minutes before Steve huffs and leaves the car. Billy grins and follows.

 "What were you two arguing about?" Nancy asks, looking concerned.

 "Basketball." They say at the same time and then grin at each other.

 They catch some horror movie that Billy has never heard of, and Steve buys some popcorn for the two of them to share.

 It feels like a date.

 It feels like a date when Steve sits next to Nancy and yanks Billy into the seat next to him. It feels like a date when Steve parks the popcorn bucket in Billy's lap, and then grabs fistfuls of it. It feels like a date when a jump scare has the whole theater jumping and with a gentle gasp, Steve grabs Billy's arm. It feels like a date when someone is getting mauled on screen and Steve turns toward Billy and kinda curls toward him. It feels like a date when Steve hides his face in Billy's shoulder while the villain is creeping through the creepy house.

"Is it over?" Steve whispers. Billy turns his head and leans into that fluffy hair.

 "Not yet pretty boy, give it a second." He murmurs back.

 It feels like a date when Steve nods, and sighs a little against Billy.

 Billy can hardly focus on the movie, so much so that he has no idea what little plot there is, and he isn't jumping and gasping with everyone else. He's so attuned to the boy beside him. To Steve's grip on his arm, that hurts, but not in a bad way, to Steve’s head on his shoulder, and his gentle breathes on Billy’s arm. Steve turns his head a little and peaks at the screen when the ominous music stops.

 "Jesus fuck!" Steve whispers when the masked villain is suddenly popping on screen. Billy laughs a little.

 Steve doesn't move his head from Billy's shoulder the whole movie, his grip on Billy's forearm never changing.

 After the movie ends, the villain apprehended, the perky blonde and the jock alive and well, the four of them leave. Steve just simply let’s go of Billy and gets up following Nancy and Jonathan out into the now dark parking lot. Nancy and Steve talking about the finer points of the movie, debating things as they go. Jonathan watches on, and Billy just gapes at them.

 "Don't you think Billy?" Nancy calls suddenly. Billy had paused to shake a cigarette out of the pack he keeps in his jean jacket, and lights up.

 "Do I think what?" Billy mumbles around the cigarette.

 Nancy launches into some long-winded explanation about the movie, and then looks expectantly at him.

 "Damn, Wheeler. I really wasn't paying that much attention." Billy mumbles, taking a long pull of his cigarette.

 "Ugh." She huffs and then turns to Steve who apparently agrees.

 "They do this often?" Billy asks Jonathan, who is standing by him.

 "Yeah every time we got to the movies." Jonathan says, and shrugs a little. "Can I bum a smoke?" He asks. Billy raises an eyebrow.

 "You smoke?" Billy says, but he digs out his pack and lighter.

 "Only sometimes. Thanks." Jonathan says and lights up. Billy nods, does the same, and leans against the Beemer with Jon while Nancy and Steve argue. Billy and Jon smoke in silence, just watching.

 "Nance, babe, I'm hungry." Jonathan says, flicking his cigarette butt away a while later. Billy chuckles.

"Oh, right! Sorry! Pizza!" She says. Steve grins and they pile back into the cars.

 "Sorry, Nancy and I can really get going." Steve says, as he starts the car. Billy laughs a little.

 "I don't mind. Quit apologizing." Billy teases.

"Alright. Thanks for coming." Steve says, merging into traffic.

 "You just invited me for my muscles during the scary parts of the movies." Billy teases. He really is just teasing but Steve blushes a little.

 "No, I invited you because I want to be friends, like actual friends, and I'm sick of always just hanging out with Nance and Jon, that's a little much sometimes." Steve mutters.

 "Wow, you've fought monsters that shouldn't exist but third wheeling with your ex and her boyfriend is too much?" Billy teases. Steve laughs.

 "Exactly." Steve says, and Billy chuckles.

The pizza place is packed in the way that the best restaurant in small towns always are. They squeeze into a booth in the corner, Nancy and Jonathan on one side, Steve and Billy on the other.

They order cokes and the greasiest pizza Billy has ever seen. But it's delicious, and they talk and laugh all through the meal.

 Billy doesn't feel like an outsider like he kind of expected to, Nancy cracks up at his story about the time his math teacher had nearly quit after their last test because everyone but Billy had gotten it all wrong. (Billy omits that part; nobody expects him to be as smart as he is and he hates explaining.)

It’s nice. Billy's not sure he's ever hung out like this, he has friends of course, and he had a huge group of people he hung out with back in California. But nothing like this, nothing without pressure, and it's really nice.

 Jonathan and Steve get up, mumbling something about the best cheesecake ever. Nancy yawns and watches some of the other people in the restaurant. There’s a lull, so Billy pulls the note out of his pocket, and unfolds it. Nancy pillows her head in her hands and ignores him. It's not rude, they are just a little tired, she apparently was up all night last night studying for an exam this morning.

 Bills,

 I hope you don't mind that nickname by the way. You've got a nickname for me, and I felt like I should have one for you.

 Anyway, I hope you don't think I'm creepy. All of these letters I feel like I've said how I've watched you without you being aware of it. It's not meant to be creepy, I just like looking at you. Partly because you're just so gorgeous, I can't believe it. I love it, you have such good hair, and all those muscles, and don't get me started on your eyes.

 But I also just feel better when I look at you. My stress and my worry feel better when I see you.

And this morning, I watched you laugh with Max. You two got here early and you were helping her on her skateboard, before too many other people showed up. I couldn't sleep again and got to school early too.

 You don't want anyone to know, but you're actually an amazing brother. Don't worry, I won't tell. It just makes you better, baby. You really care about her, I can tell and I bet she feels the same. I can't say too much, because if I say more on this next sentence, I worry it will give away too much. But, watching the two of you, made me think you'd fit in my life pretty damn great.

 I can't say more, I'm sorry baby. I really want you to know who I am, but I'm afraid you'll hate me if you find out.

 I just want you to be with me and my friends. Have you ever felt like that Bills? Like you've stared at someone and wanted to have them over for game night with all of the other most important people in your life? You'd fit in with them I think, and I'd certainly have more fun with you there. At game night at my house I bet we could cuddle on the couch while everyone played. Wouldn't that be nice? I really just want to always be touching you, regardless of what we're doing. Not in a dirty way (not always at least), but in a we love each other kind of way. Does that make sense?

 I just want to love you Billy Hargrove. I want to know everything about you, and I want to hold your hand. I want to kiss you, hug you, have sex with you. I want to cuddle you, cause even tough guys like you need to be held, and I want to treat you right.

 I'd be so good for you, I'm not even trying to be cocky. We would be great together, and I can't ever tell you because I don't think you'd ever look at me the way I want. This is better. And Hawkins is a backwards small town, so it's just better this way.

 Love,

Someone who really hopes they're your only secret admirer.

 It's the longest letter he's gotten. And it doesn't make him ache any less than the other have, but it makes him smile too.

 "Note from someone special?" Nancy asks. Billy jolts and gently folds it back up. "Don't worry, I didn't read it. But your face reading it tells me that it's someone special." She mutters.

 "Who's special?" Steve asks, sitting down and sliding a piece of cheesecake at Billy.

 "Billy's got a note from someone special." Nancy says, sitting up so Jonathan can scoot her own piece toward her. A strange look flashes across Steve's face. "Oh? Who is it?" Steve asks.

 "I don't know. It's from a secret admirer." Billy mutters.

 "Wow. That's so sweet. Who do you think it is?" Nancy asks.

 "I don't know. I haven't gotten very many of the letters." He says, still not quite believing this is only his fifth.

 "The handwriting looked familiar, if you want me to look at it I can and see who I think it is." Nancy offers. Steve's fork goes clattering to the ground, and he chokes on the cheesecake.

 "No, that's ok. There is some really personal stuff in these letters, I don't want them to feel uncomfortable, whoever they are." Billy says. Nancy shrugs and moves on. Steve stays quiet.

 They settle the bill and head out to the cars. Nancy and Jon are going to go hit the record store, so Steve and Billy head back alone. It’s quiet for a while.

 "You really have no idea what girl is writing you the notes?" Steve asks a few minutes later. Billy glances at him in the dark.

 "Uh no, but I don't think it's a girl." Billy mutters.

 "Really? You don't sound mad…" Steve hedges. Billy shoots him another look.

 "Well, no. Why would I be mad?"

 "Because it's a guy writing you love letters? Right? If it’s not a girl than it’s a guy." Steve mumbles.

 "I'd rather it be a guy than a girl." Billy says, confused. Max is many things, but she can't keep her mouth shut, and she's with Steve a lot. She must have told her friends about Billy. She’s known for years he’s gay.

 "What?" Steve says.

 "Harrington, come on. Catch on already, damn." Billy mutters. It takes Steve a beat.

 "Oh… oh. I thought Max was lying."

 "I knew she told you." Billy sighs. "Look, I'm not ashamed, but the person writing me is, so please don't tell anyone."

 "I'm not gonna, don't worry. I wouldn’t do that.” He pauses for a minute. “You don't even know who's writing you, why are you protecting them?" Steve asks.

 "Because they are putting themselves out there, and their words have meant a lot to me. I get that they can't be out, and I've been outed before, it's not anything I would want for them." Billy mutters. Steve appears to mull that over for a little while.

 "You're a better person than you let on." Steve finally says.

 "Tell anyone and you're dead." Billy snarks back. Steve laughs, and the tension in the car finally breaks.

 They talk about the kids, and their annoying teachers for the rest of the drive. When Steve drops Billy off at the Camaro, there’s a weird almost hesitation, where Steve kind of leans toward Billy, and Billy sort of leans in, and then Steve loudly says, "Have a good weekend!!" And all but plasters himself against his door. Billy nods and climbs out of the car.

 When he gets home, Susan is sitting on the couch smoking.

 “Susan?” Billy says, surprised that she’s still up. It’s not late exactly, but she and Neil go to bed at 10 most nights.

 “Billy. Sit for a minute, would you?” She asks. Billy frowns and glances around for Neil, but he’s nowhere around.

 “Everything ok?” Billy asks.

 “Yes. I kicked you father out.” Susan says, and takes a long pull off her cigarette. Billy blinks at her in stunned silence. “I couldn’t take the way he talked to you, and to Max and to me. I’m done with him. You don’t have to stay here, but I’m not going to kick you out.”

 “Wow.” Billy breathes. Susan offers him a small smile.

 “I’m sorry, you’ve had so much upheaval in your life, but you don’t have to leave and go with him. No matter what he says. You can stay here, Max adores you and I know I’m not your mom but…” Susan trails off, and blows out a long breath.

 “I’ll stay. I don’t want to go anywhere with that asshole.” Billy says, and Susan grins. She sends him off to his room, and sits in the living room, smoking for a long time.  

 He rereads all the letters before he falls asleep that night and then thinks about the way Steve had grabbed his arm in the movie, and how close he had sat. For the first time in a long time, Billy goes to sleep with a grin on his face.

  +1.     They all start hanging out after that. Nancy catches his arm in the hall way at lunch on Monday and tows him to their lunch table, where she all but shoves him into a chair. She demands he read over her lit essay because Steve and Jonathan are useless. Billy feels a little shell shocked, but he reads her essay, offers her some notes and then ends up eating with them. After that, one of them always seems to find him at lunch to drag him with them, and eventually he stops fighting it. He even tells them about his dad leaving, and they all seem happy for him.

  There’s the added bonus of Steve always looking thrilled to see him so he just rolls with it.

 Tommy and Carol look offended, but eventually they get over it, he still goes to parties with them so they relax.

 The letters mysteriously stop, and for three weeks he doesn't get another one. Billy tries not to be disappointed, but it's hard.

 "You look serious today Billy." Steve comments as he slides into his spot at the lunch table. Billy glances away from where he was watching the rest of the cafeteria, wondering if his secret admirer is out there somewhere.

 "Yeah, just thinking." Billy mutters.

 "You ok?" Steve asks. Billy nods, and goes back to people watching.

 "Looking for someone?" Steve asks, poking at his mashed potatoes.

"You ask a lot of questions." Billy teases.

"Just curious." Steve shrugs.

 "My secret admirer hasn't written in a while, if you're gonna be nosy." Billy says, and rolls his eyes, turning to pull his math homework out when he sees Jonathan and Nancy leave the lunch line. He and Jonathan have the same math teacher, but at different periods, so they compare homework a lot.

"Oh. You sound bummed." Steve points out.

 "I am. I liked the letters. Made me feel… I don't know. Important, I guess? Forget it. It's stupid." Billy glances at Steve. "Quit grinning like an idiot Harrington, I can be honest sometimes." Billy snaps.

 Steve just keeps grinning. Billy rolls his eyes, but the shame and embarrassment he was expecting over being that open and honest doesn't come. He and Steve are good friends now, same with Jonathan and Nancy.

 He even got stoned with Jon at a party last week, which had been weird but good.

 It's weird having friends like this. He's not sure he minds though, he likes them, even if he'll never admit it.

 He and Jonathan work on their homework through lunch, and Steve and Nancy talk about some annoying thing Mike and Dustin did.

 Jonathan joins in with a story about Will, and Billy finds himself contributing with stories about Max.

After lunch, they all disperse to class. Billy goes to math and finds that he and Jonathan did all their homework right.

He and Steve nod at each other as they pass in the hall between classes and he watches as Steve goes up to Robin Buckley and starts chatting with her, handing her something that makes her laugh at him and makes him blush. Billy frowns, wondering why. The rest of his classes pass quickly, and when he gets to the last one, he's surprised to find a note on his desk.

 He tries not to appear too eager, but he unfolds it quickly.

 Bills,

 I saw you looking at lunch today. I was sitting off to the side of where you were looking, so I got to see your profile. You're beautiful. It takes my breath away sometimes. Looking at you, sitting by those big windows, you looked so good. Have you done something different with your curls? They looked great today, so soft. And your eyes, you looked at me for just a second before you looked away, and I swear I drowned in your eyes. The light hit them just right, thank god it was sunny today, and they kind of sparkled. I could stare at them all the time.

 I just realized today, when you looked at me, that you have freckles. FRECKLES Billy are you kidding me? How the hell is a man supposed to function with you looking like that?! I bet they are even darker in the summer time. I don't know how I've lived not knowing you had freckles, I'm in love with them. I want to kiss every one, I want to count them, I want to memorize them.

 And then to find that these letters make you feel important?! Baby, you're killing me today. I'm sorry I didn't write recently, I've been kinda distracted. I'll write you thousands of letters though, because you deserve to feel important. And it's not stupid to feel that way, you deserve to be fucking cherished baby. And I intend to do that, even if it's in the form of letters, and even if you never know who I am, I'm gonna fucking cherish you Billy Hargrove.

 You and those damn freckles. Jesus Christ. They kill me. You kill me, but what a wonderful way to go, death by a beautiful boy and his god damn freckles. Holy shit.

 I can't even focus on class, I keep thinking about your damn eyes, and hair, and fucking freckles. Who knew, freckles would kill me so much.

 Love,

The best secret admirer there ever was

 Billy has to read the letter four times, because he can't believe it. He was only sitting close enough to one person to see his freckles, they fade to barely there in the winter, you have to catch him in the right light and be close to see them. And only one person was. He also sits in a quieter corner of the lunchroom, and no one else was near enough to hear what he said about the letters, except of course the person he said them to.

 Billy can't believe it, and happiness bubbles in his chest. He tries to tamp it down, it could not be who he wants, and Billy is never this lucky. He's never lucky to have his crush actually be the one crushing on him, is he?

 He can't ignore it though. Unless Steve told someone what he said, but that's not how the letters read. They read exactly like someone who stared at him from across the table all through lunch and then ran to their next class and scribbled down the note. And that screams Steve Harrington.

 It's got to be him.

 Then there's the other clue: Robin Buckley sitting next to him, sneaking looks at Billy, while managing to look bored to tears.

 Suddenly what Billy saw Steve give her makes a lot more sense.

 "Buckley." Billy leans over and hisses.

 "What?" She snaps, eyeing the clock pointedly. Class ends in five minutes, but Billy can't wait that long.

 "What does Steve have after school today?" Billy demands. They start packing up their stuff and Robin shoots him a look.

 "What's it to you?" She demands. Billy holds up the note and raises an eyebrow. Robin sighs in relief.

 "Thank god you figured it out. Fucking finally. I'm sick of his pining. Be nice when you reject him ok? He's got nothing after school, he'll be at home." Robin says. The bell rings and Billy fly out of his seat.

 "Who says I'm rejecting him?" Billy says, and then books it to his car. Steve is already gone, but that's fine.

 "Max!" Billy yells, when he sees her fiery hair. She comes running up.

 "Can you get a ride now? Or skate home? I have to do something." Billy says. Max raises an eyebrow.

 "Yeah? I'm going to Will's for DnD remember, you're picking me up before dinner?" Max says, and Billy laughs a little.

 "Right, right ok. Great. I found out who's writing me the letters." Billy says. Max grins.

 "Really? Who?!" She demands.

 "It's Steve. I have to go, but I'll be at the Byers in time." He says. Max laughs and nods, before running back to her friends. Billy practically leaps into his car and takes off toward Loch Nora.

 He roars up to Steve's house and throws the car in park so fast it actually jolts.

 "Sorry baby!" Billy tells the car, and then he's running up to Steve's front door. He pounds on it, heart in his throat.

 "What the hell do you want…Billy?" Steve says, looking confused. He takes in Billy's panting, his probably wild eyes and he pales a little, instantly looking around. "Are you ok? What's going on? Are you hurt?" Steve asks. Billy smiles fondly.

 "Can I come in?" He asks. Steve nods, standing aside.

 "Of course. Are you ok? Billy?" He asks, following Billy into the living room. Billy turns and just looks at Steve. He reaches in his pocket and pulls out the letter.

 "Is it you?" Billy asks. Steve pales even further, and then goes beet red from the neck of his polo to his hairline.

 "Fuck." He mutters.

 "Oh my god. It is you." Billy breathes, elation swelling in his chest. It's Steve, he apparently can be that lucky.

 "Ok, before you yell at me, you were never supposed to find out. I started writing letters to you and Robin said I should send them because if I left it anonymous and you never caught me delivering them, I could like work through my pining. So, I did, and then you liked them, and I kept sending them, but I never planned to tell you, because I didn't think you'd want it to be me you know?" Steve flails his arms, and starts pacing a little, the words leaving him in a rush.

 "And like I totally meant all of it, every word, but I get that it's weird, and you said you're gay but it's probably different now that it's me, and like some guys don't like to be with people who are bi, which I totally get. You weren’t supposed to find out, I'm not sure how you did, but you're like super smart so I guess I should have seen this coming. And then we started getting closer you know? And then it was kinda too late, and I don't know how to work with this. I'm talking so much, Jesus Christ." Steve says, and pushes his hands into his hair. Billy cracks up then, full on belly laughs.

 "Why are you laughing?" Steve asks, looking adorably confused. Billy walks over to him, and grins.

 "First, I'm not gonna yell." Billy says.

 "You aren't? Because you totally can, I was being creepy, and I broke into your gym locker., and-" Steve starts again. Billy chuckles.

 "Easy pretty boy. I'm not mad. I'm not gonna yell at you. And I found out because your last letter was super obvious it was you. No one else was around when I told you the letters made me feel important, and no one was sitting close enough to see my freckles. Are they that distracting that you forgot to hide who you are?" Billy teases. Steve flushes again, and glances at Billy's nose before looking at his feet.

 "I never noticed them before. Fucking freckles and I ruin everything. They are too cute, just lil freckles. Fuckin rude." Steve mutters, like he doesn't want Billy to hear. Billy laughs.

 "Stevie, look at me." Billy whispers, and Steve does, though probably because Billy has never called him Stevie before.

 "I'm sorry. I didn't want to disappoint you. I can't imagine you wanted it to be me." Steve whispers, looking sad.

 "Pretty boy, the only way I would have been sad is if it wasn't you writing me." Billy says, and loves that he's close enough to see the words sink in. Steve's eyes widen, and his jaw drops.

 "You… you wanted it to be me?" Steve whispers. Billy steps closer, until their chests almost brush as they breathe.

 "Yeah, Stevie, I did." Billy says, and reaches up to brush some hair away from Steve's face.

 "Wait. If you wanted it to be me, and you aren't mad then that means…." Steve trails off, and Billy smiles at him. "Holy shit, you like me back?!" Steve says, too loud for how close they are standing, but Billy doesn't mind.

 "Yep." Billy says.

 "Holy shit. Can I kiss you?" Steve whispers. Billy grins, and wraps his arms around Steve's neck pulling him in. It's a gentle kiss at first, that quickly deepens. Steve tentatively works his hand into Billy's curls, and at Billy's hum of agreement, grips them tight. Billy licks into Steve's mouth eagerly when Steve opens his lips a little, Billy's arms griping Steve tight to keep him close.

 "Wow." Steve says, pulling back to pant against Billy's lips. Billy chuckles, low and wrecked.

 "I love you too, pretty boy. I've reread all of your letters so many times." Billy whispers, and Steve pulls him close, burying his face in Billy's neck.

 "I can't believe this is happening." Steve says. Billy laughs.

 "Me neither. I was hoping it was you, every time I read one. Remember the one saying you liked being a mystery so I could picture whoever I wanted writing me?" Steve nods against his neck. "I always pictured you. And I don’t care that you’re bi, just as long as you like me." Steve makes a small whining noise at that and pulls Billy closer. Billy smiles, and breathes in Steve's scent. Sweet and spicy and uniquely Steve, and Billy adores it.

 "I believe I was promised cuddles and sweet things whispered in my ear." Billy mutters. Steve laughs, and pulls back to brush his fingers through Billy's hair.

 "Tell me something first." Steve whispers.

 "What's up Stevie?" Billy asks.

"You're really glad it's me? You're not disappointed?" Steve asks, and Billy can see in those earnest brown eyes how worried he actually is.

 Billy yanks him in for another kiss, and pushes his hands into Steve's hair. Steve responds eagerly and tightens his grip on Billy.

 "Yes, baby, I'm very glad it's you. I love you Steve Harrington, just try getting rid of me now." Billy teases. "I need some cherishing." He means it as a joke, but Steve's eyes soften and go a little liquid.

 "Hell yeah you do, and I intend to do a damn good job. I love you too." Steve whispers. Billy grins up at him.

 Steve tugs them upstairs, they tug off their shoes and curl up on the bed. Steve pulls Billy into his arms, and dots kisses over his freckles.

 "Steve Harrington, done in and giving up the secret by a couple freckles." Billy murmurs softly. Steve laughs.

 "Steve Harrington done in by Billy Hargrove, who apparently has freckles." Steve corrects. Billy laughs, and snuggles closer.

 "You still have to write me letters." Billy huffs. Steve laughs and catches Billy in another kiss.

 "I can do that." Steve says, and Billy sighs happily. He falls asleep in Steve's arms, while Steve holds him and counts his freckles.

[kiligaus]

Better With you

Summary

Y/n a great ballet dancer, Jihoon an amazing hip hop dancer. Both are on their school’s dance team, and both are top tier dancers. Except, Jihoon HATES the sight of Y/n and vice versa. The two can’t stand being in the same room with each other until they are forced to. The next school dance competition is coming, and both were forced to compete as a duet. Oh, did I mention their both total opposites?

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Cursing

Word count: 2.8k

Part 2

It’s been three weeks since Jihoon and I have talked after what happened at the dance studio, and we’ve been ignoring each other since.

I was listening to my usual Spotify playlist whilst doing my work, until I felt a tap on my shoulder. “Y/n.” I took my airpods out and turned around. “Hmm?” “You're wanted at the office.” Yeorum said. And with that, I got up and made my way to the office.

What is it now, I haven’t fought with Jihoon in like weeks, What does Mr. Yang want? I knocked on the door to his office. “Come in.” I entered his office and saw Jihoon sitting down in front of his desk and Herin beside our principal.

“Sit Ms. Kim.” I took a seat beside Jihoon. “Herin and I wanted to know how the duet was going, as the competition is taking place during the first week of next month.” Mr. Yang explains folding his hands on top of his desk. What the fuck. It’s been a month already?! And we’ve literally have nothing done. And like the next month literally starts after this week!? Ah, we’re screwed.

Jihoon was about to open his mouth when I cut him off. “Of course Sir, we’ve been practicing this whole month at the studio Jihoon has been taking us too.” I smile brightly ensuring our principal that everything was alright when in reality, it was more lies. “That’s great! I expect you two to show the dance team and I by the end of the end of this week.” He smiles back. 

“You two are dismissed then.” The two of us got up and exited the room, and as I was closing the door I heard Herin say, “I told you they’d put their differences and come together.” Well we’re in shit now, aren’t we.

I was walking back to class when I suddenly get pulled into another part of the hallway. “Took some guts to lie to Mr. Yang huh?” I look up at the tall figure standing in front of me, Jihoon. “I mean, would you rather get kicked off the dance team?” I roll my eyes. “Touche.” He replied. “Exactly.” I turned around to go back to my classroom when Jihoon suddenly grabbed my arm and spun me back around.

“And where do you think you’re going?” “To class? where else?” “Y/n, seriously, we need to put our shit aside and work on this dance, we literally have a weeks till’ the competition and we are expected to perform it on Friday IN FRONT of the dance team and our principal!” Jihoon explains. I stare at the boy in front of me. Is he actually is serious? “Fine.” I give in and agree. “Good, meet me at my car in the parking lot after school.” “Whatever.” I say walking back to class. “Don’t be late!” He yells. I just wave my hand, without turning back to him.

~~~~~~

“Don’t be late my ass.” I mock. Where the hell is he?! I stood next to his car leaning on it slightly. “Ugh, I really trusted him didn’t I?” I groan. “Y/n!” I look up its Yeorum and my brother. “Hey Y/n, what are you doing? We have practice after school?” My friend questions. “Oh uh, I waiting for Jihoon.” I respond. “Ooo, you guys skipping practice to go out.” She wiggles her eyebrows, elbowing me, as my brother dies of laughter in the background. 

“Hah, in your dreams, we’re going to practice our duet.” “Oh yeah! How's that going?” She questions. “HAH! my sister hasn’t met up with him in like-’’ I put my hand over my brother's mouth before he could reveal anymore. “Oh, it's uh, going fine we’re just polishing up the kinks that's all.” I lied again for like the second time today. “That's great, maybe on Friday, you can show the team?” She lights up.

“Uhhh, I don’t know….” “Oh, come on, I’m sure it's really good. Pleaseee.” She practically begs clinging to my arm. “F-fine.” Good fucking going Y/n you're screwed now. “YAY! Anyways practice is gonna start see you Friday.” Yeorum says as she skips back into the school building. 

I felt something wet on my palm. “WHAT THE HELL!?!” I frantically remove my hand from Yeongue’s mouth. “What was that for you rat!” I scream. “That's for putting your crusty hand over my mouth!” He yells back. We exchanged death glares at each other. “Why did you lie to your best friend?” Yeongue questions.

“It’s what I told Mr. Yang and I intend to make what I said true.” I say proudly. “Hmm, bold of you to lie.” “Yeah, I’ve heard.” “Just please, do NOT tell anyone, I need you to keep this a secret, please.” I beg my younger brother. “Hmm,  lunch for a month.” “HELL NO!” “Fine, oH HERIN-” I cut him off. “Nggh, deal.”

“Now get your ass to practice.” I push him away from me. “Yeah whatever, see ya at home noona.” Man, I really hate how we are so alike sometimes.

 “Y/N!” Finally. “And what took you so long?” I stood up from leaning on his Audi. “I had to help Ms. Han, sorry now get in.” He confessed, taking his keys and unlocking his car. “Get in loser.” 

~~~~~~

As usual, the car ride to the fancy dance studio was very quiet, so quiet we were able to hear people yelling from their cars because of the hourly rush from work. Then it was Jihoons turn to break the silence. “Soo....” He started off, just as how I did before. “How are gonna pull this shit show together?” “Uh, I don’t know, we like dance I guess.” I answer staring out the window. Does everything that comes out of my mouth have to be so sarcastic. 

“Jheez, you didn’t have to say it like that.” Jihoon huffs.  And there goes our conversation. With that the car became silent yet again. 

~~~~~~

JIHOONS POV

And once again Y/n and I were back at the modern dance studio we came to previously. We walked into the lobby and we were engulfed with the familiar sights we’ve seen about a few weeks ago, when I brought Y/n. I signal Y/n to go and wait while I booked us a room. I walked over to the front desk and was greeted by a familiar face. It was my cousin Jaehyuk.

“Hey, man.” I say as he and I exchanged a bro handshake. “Hey, Ji what brings you here, you rarely come anymore.” My cousin asks. “Ah, I’ve come to practice for our upcoming competition, and I’ve been swamped with work lately, sorry.” I explain to him opening the log book to sign under the room I wanted, or whatever’s available at the time. “Ah, well you should still come around to visit I am your cousin after all.” He teases. “And that’s the reason why I don’t come around.” My cousin shoots me a death glare, as I continue to sign my name in the book, giving zero fucks. A quick wave of awkward silence washes over Jaehyuk and I. 

“Uh, are you here alone?” He attempts to break the silence. Oh yeah I’m with Y/n, lowkey forgot she was here for a bit. “Hmm, nah I’m with her.” I move to the side a bit to reveal Y/n, who is sitting on one of the couches distracted by her phone. I totally forgot who I was talking to until Jaehyuk spoke once again. “Dude, you’re with THE Y/n? Don’t you hate each other? But hey, at least your with someone for once cute.” I snapped back into reality. “What no, I mean yes, I’m with her, and yeah sure she’s cute, wait- I mean- shit SHUT UP WILL YOU!” I panic.

I scrambled over the counter to slap my hand over Jaehyuks mouth before he says another stupid thing. “Please, don’t say a word.” I remove my hand from his mouth, he leaned closer and whispered into my ear. “Don’t worry my dear cousin your secret's safe with me.” He grins. “Get your nasty ass away, as if I like her. This is literally the exact reason I don’t come anymore.”

Jaehyuk slouched back to his side of the desk. “Y/n go get ready, we’ll be in studio nine.” I tell the girl who was still sitting on her phone while that whole fiasco went down. “Took you long enough.” She complains. “Jesus, be grateful for once.” “Maybe I’ll try later.” She retorts going to the change room to get changed.

I watch Y/n as she walks past me and Jaehyuk, she’s so fucking ungrateful sometimes I hate it. But I guess she is kinda cute, she’s different, I guess. “She really is something isn’t she?” Jaehyuk comments when she’s gone. “Yeah, she really is.” I let slip out, again. Silence, shit I said that out loud didn’t I? Fuck. I turn towards my cousin creepily smiling at me, resting his head on his hands. “Oh shut up will you?” I yell, the redness evident in my cheeks. “I didn’t say jack shit.” “Well you were thinking shit.” I say pushing his face wiping that ugly smile off his face as I leave to get changed.

After changing I headed to studio nine where I heard the slight sound of music. Hmm I guess Y/n started without me, I peeked into the room and I see her dancing a lyrical piece to a song with a sick beat. You know what would go great to this song? Some hip hop moves, yeah some hip hop moves would go great to this beat! I smiled to myself thinking about a hip hop set that would go great to this piece. Wait that’s it!

Y/n’s Pov

I was dancing in the studio waiting for Jihoon, getting lost in the music when suddenly I hear someone rushing into the room breaking my concentration, already knowing who it is. “Jihoon how many times have I told you in the past to stop—” “Y/N I HAVE AN IDEA ON HOW WE CAN PULL THIS DUET TOGETHER!” Jihoon grabs me by the shoulder shaking me out of excitement. “Jesus- calm the fuck down and tell me!” I say, wanting him to stop shaking me.

Jihoon and I take a seat in the middle of the studio as he calms down enough to finally speak properly. “Ok , so I was coming into the studio when I saw you dancing, right?” I nod slowly. “And I was listening to the song while watching you dance and I thought that beat was sick and your lyrical style really went well to the beat.” “WAIT, wait you were watching me dance? Like from the door like a creep?” It’s not like I haven’t done that before. “That besides the point Y/n, my idea was: why not use the song add more cool beats, and combine our styles.” I thought about it for a minute. Wait, that shit might actually work. “Like ballet and hip hop, in the same piece?” I questioned. 

“I know it's a long shot but why don’t we try to combine the styles we are both confident in, rather than bickering about which style to go with.” He mentions. I stayed silent, will we really be able to pull off a whole routine in four days, and perform it on Friday for our team to see? I mean why don’t we try? Since we don’t have any other good ideas.” I look up at the boy across from me, he looked desperate to make it work. “Fine, I’m in.” “Wait seriously? I-I thought you’d shut it down right away?” He looked appalled. 

“I mean we don't have any other option do we? So why not try it out, you said the beats sounded sick no? And my dancing seemed to fit it, and with some other “cool beats” we’ll be able to incorporate hip hop right? I trust your judgement, I mean you're one of the best in our team right?” I accidentally blurt out loud. I frantically look at Jihoon to see his response, his mouth agape staring right back at me surprise written all over his face. 

Jihoon shakes his head trying to snap himself back into reality. “Wait, wait did you just complement-” I cut him off before he could finish his sentence. “So how are we going to add these sick beats to the song you’re talking about?” Jihoon smirks and says. “Just leave that to me.” 

And that's how we ended you in front of Yoonbins door. “Are you sure he’ll be ok with editing the song, I don’t wanna bother him.” I worry out loud. “Hah! You worrying for someone other than yourself, thats rich.” He mocks. “Do all the words that come from your mouth always have to be so rude?” I angrily stare at the dark haired boy standing next to me. He ignores my comment and raises his fist to knock on Yoonbins front door. There was a quick silence until the door opens revealing Yoonbin, who looked like he had just woken up from a nap, hair all over the place. “Why must you always disturb me when I’m sleeping?” Yoonbin says scratching the back of his head. “Sorry man, its kinda urgent can we come in?” Jihoon questions. “We?” They boy questions, as he looks to the right of Jihoon. I smile and awkwardly wave making my presence known. “Sure….” He trails off, receding back into his home with us trailing behind him.

“And thats are whole situation.” Jihoon explains while he lies on top of Yoonbins bed making himself comfortable, while I on the other hand, am sitting uncomfortably on his bed, as it is my first time in a guys room.

Yoonbin spins around in his swivel chair to face us resting his elbows on his knees, hands crossed trying to understand everything his best friends just told him. “So let me get this straight.” He starts off. “Y/n you LIED to our principal that you guys have a whole routine and is ready for our dance team to see this Friday? And you Jihoon want me to add some more rhythms to a song in order for you guys to create a dance too?” The both of us vigorously nod our heads. “And what genre of dance are you using? “Lyrical.” “Hip hop.” Jihoon and I state at the same time. “I- is that even gonna work?” Jihoon and I exchange glances and shrug. As the boy across from of us facepalms and sighs out of defeat.

 “I still don’t know why they entrusted rivals to create a dance for the competition that's NEXT week, just lemme hear the song and I'll see what I can do.” I handed my phone to Yoonbin and he hooks it up to his computer and listens to it. As the boy next to me browses his phone, while I just awkwardly sit there, staring at the floor.

Minutes pass as Yoonbin is busy working on the song while Jihoon, on the other hand was on his phone browsing instagram. He’s still using my phone so I have nothing to do, I adjust myself on Yoonbins bed to lean against the wall so I would have some form of comfort. Minutes turn into hours and I find myself slowly drifting to sleep. 

Suddenly I’m disturbed by the bed rising on my left side. “Y/n wake up!” A voice yells. “Mmmm….” I respond half asleep. “Yoonbins done the track.” the voices whispers. This time snap awake, so quickly I didn’t get the chance for the figure to move out of the way before I bump into his head. “Oww! Excited much?” It was Jihoon rubbing his head, I do the same, we both get up and head where Yoonbin was seated. “Let’s hear it.” I exclaim leaning on the top of where the boy was sitting. He hits play and we listen to the new and improved track he made for us, after it was done playing he waits for our feedback. Not going to lie it was good, but not good enough, a little bit disappointed but it was something. I stare blankly at the screen thinking about what to about the track and so does my partner. “Somethings….. missing.” We both trail off.

“Move over.” Jihoon asks his friend, and he complies. As if Jihoon and I were in a trance we both sit down in front of the screen on the single chair unaware of how close we were. “You know what would sound better if the rhythm here was a bit slower to cater to my lyrical style of dancing, then it would transition into so heavier beats and rhythm to suit your style.” I start off. “Then we could transition into a rhythm that best suits both our styles and we can combine our styles from there.” Jihoon finishes my sentences. We both looked at each other excitement in our eyes as we started to work on the song. Unaware that Yoobin was still the room.

“If they wanted it a certain way they could have just done it themselves, instead of asking me to waste my time, ugh.” Yoonbin turns to leave his room, but stops in the doorway and turns back around to face us once again. “But at least they’re getting along for once.” He turns and exits his room with a slight smile on his face.

(a/n: its been a hot minute since I update Better with you,, sorry for being so ugly with the updates skskss,, ive been trying to get this out but life is a thing and so is work,, side note summer is almost over so im hella sad since school is in two weeks:( anyways i hope yall like this chapter and keep supporting me i never expected the first part to get 50 notes so thanks so much for your support<3)

[angstchim]

Divine Canvas | kth

Painter Taehyung x Reader 

➻ Oneshot

➻ Inspired by Meddle About - Chase Atlantic 

➻ Words: 6142

➻ Rating: M 

➻ !!: SMUT, language,  Paint play? Is that a thing? I'm making it a thing, Dirty talk, Casual Sex, Sex in public, Teacher/student but not what you expect, some peer pressure? Unprotected Sex, Comedy, Crack but not crack?  

Summary: Lisa is your best friend. She’s a little eccentric and impulsive at times and when she deems you a bore.  She makes a few arrangements. She has you take a single art class, alone, one on one with the handsome instructor. Whom specializes in a unique kind of art.  

Preview

"Which is better? Watercolor or acrylic?" Your eyes going back and forth from the watercolor palettes, and acrylic paint bottles. Hand on your hip, eyes focused, waiting for the feedback of your dear friend. Popular music blaring over the intercom, aisles of the craft store empty.

"Only you would find going to a craft store fun!" Lisa gripes, the blonde, busy tapping away on her phone, dressed in clothes more suited for a shopping spree, her crop top and shorts contrasting greatly from your baggy pants and an oversized sweater.

"Watercolor or acrylic?" Voice monotonous, used to her complaints, eyes bouncing from the watercolor, to the acrylics, and back to the watercolors. "Y/n, you know I can't even paint, the only painting I do is wiping my Cheeto dust fingers on your walls." Her gripes coming off in a breathy tone, leg outstretched, her arms crossed over her chest, head tilted staring at you.

"You're a little bitch for that. Next time you do that I'm making you lick that crusty shit off the wall. Now, Acrylic or Watercolor?" Your voice stern, eyes shooting bullets at the blonde.

"Oof, that's kinky, and watercolor I guess?" Grabbing a watercolor palette, "Alright let's go ya weirdo." Letting out a sigh, paying and exiting the store, making your way over to the mall, Lisa at your side, griping and complaining about how boring of a person you are. "Spice it up hun, you wear the same brand my grandpa does!! This is 2018, and my best friend is not going to have some boring maiden's tale." Her voice a little loud, her manicured hands flying through the racks as she hangs clothes on her arm. "I'm not a grandpa.." Your voice unconvincing, your plain nails grazing the soft fabrics, eyes glossing over clothes you'd never reach for yourself.

"Tell ya what hun? I'm going to set you up a little art class. One on One, I heard the teacher is a god among men and since getting you to go to a party is like baptizing a cat, I think you won't mind spending time at an art class. Doing something you enjoy." Lisa's voice carrying a loving tone, "One exception though.." an evil grin on her face, "You have to wear an outfit I pick out."

Eyes rolling to the back of your head, a soft huff leaving your chest, "I could just say no and it won't happen, but fine, just this once. If it gets you to stop wiping Cheeto dust on my walls."

Lisa's lighthearted chuckles filling the store, "Go for me and I swear my stubby little fingers will never smear Cheeto dust on those walls ever again." You smirked, "Done deal then." Eyes looking at the pile of clothes weighing down her arm. "What the hell? Is all this for me?" A mischievous glint in the blonde's eyes, "Maybe, we have lot's of outfits to go through before I let you go to that class." Heart sinking, your inner grandpa coming out. "I'm too old for this shit, my bones pop you know? Do you know how much bending this shit takes?!" Looking at her ludicrously.

"Boohoo whore, do you know much bending I do when I get laid?"Lisa mocks, swiping her blonde hair over her shoulder, picking out a skirt and top for you. Sending her a glare, "No because I'm a child of God." Lisa's eyes narrowing at you, "Because I'm a child of God!!" She mocks in an incredulous voice that's supposed to be yours, "I've seen the shit you look up Boo, you aren't innocent, far from it." Her lips smacking while she picks out shoes for you, your eyes burning holes into the back of her perfect head, "How so?"

Her dark browns staring into you, "Hun, you were looking up the ovipositor toy. We both know that's like some kinky shit that not even 50 shades touched upon." Your cheeks a flaming scarlet, "Why are you using that against me? How many times do I need to explain that Namjoon is the reason I ever made that Google search!! We both know that when it comes to Namjoon we don't question it!" Your whines and pleas to justify yourself falling upon Lisa's deaf ears.

"Yeah, Yeah Hun." Her voice carrying humor, satisfied with her finds, shoving the articles of clothing your way, "Go try those on for me okay?" Sighs of annoyance escaping you but you listened, hailing down a clerk, you got a room and tried on the outfit. Your eyes traveling over your form in the skirt and top, cheeks a dusty pink. You looked so different, you looked..good. Way better than your usual grandpa ensemble. As much as you wanted to not like the outfit you couldn't just ignore Lisa's exceptional taste. She might be a brat who wipes her Cheeto dust fingers on your walls but at least her majoring in fashion isn't just for clout.

Lisa standing outside the door of the dressing room. "I'm taking the silence as 'Oh Lisa my dear best friend you make me look sooo good!" Her incredulous voice she uses to mock you making an appearance again. The scratchy and high pitched voice piercing the walls of the dressing room, making your insides crawl. "You know Lisa? I was going to say just that, but fuck you." Your voice lighthearted, giggles escaping you. "Awe thanks Boo." Her comment sounding scarily genuine.

**

stop by my house before we go out for coffee <=====3

Eyes glossing over the message you received from Namjoon, a reluctant sigh leaving your lips. Going to Namjoon's house was always a risky business, you never knew what you were getting. Namjoon is viewed by many as the sophisticated psychology major he is, but when he's around you he shoves his 4.0 up his ass and all his brain cells disintegrate. Feet lugging their way up the steps to Namjoon's dorm, light-handed knocks hitting his door. Blood turning cold when the door opens to reveal a figure in a patent leather suit, face entirely covered in the black material, eyes being the only thing visible.

A loud shriek escaping you. "Wrong dorm!! I-I'll go elsewhere" voice shaky, feet unresponsive, frozen in place when the figure abruptly grabs your arms tugging you inside, your shrill cries becoming louder and louder. Fear filling your being, "Shut Up!" A deep, muffled voice erupting from the mask, this only made you cry out louder. "Shut up!! You're  going to make people think I'm hurting you!" A familiar voice coming from under the mask. Kicking the door shut with his leg, peeling the mask from his face to reveal none other than Namjoon.

Eyes drilling into him, bringing your hand to his head you gave him a good swat, making sure he felt it. "The fuck was that about you lunatic?! You trying to kill me ?! Fuck this, the cafe date is canceled !" The larger male looking down at you, his face trying to conceal his amusement, your glare doing nothing to diminish his spirits. His long arms blocking your futile attempts to swat him. "Relax, I didn't mean to scare you."  Scowling, "Didn't mean to scare you." Voice dropping down an octave so you could mock him. His coffee browns narrowing at you, "I don't sound like that."  Shrugging, giving him one last swat, "What's the kinky suit for?"

Your small hands roaming free over the leather on his firm chest, "Remember the first season of American Horror Story?" A smirk on his face as looks down at your hands on his chest. "Murder House?" Eyes narrowing as you peered into the older's eyes, "Yes Murder House, remember the suit ?" You let out a sigh, "Yeah, I remember the creepy gimp suit."

"Tada!" His voice light, fingers wiggling as he gave jazz hands. "Why?" He set his large hand atop your head, "Halloween, and maybe some other stuff." Voice deepening to a sultry tone, giving a flirtatious wink. "Joon,  I swear if you go chasing the freshmen around in a gimp suit.." you began. "Nothing's wrong with chasing the freshmen." He shrugged. "I can't believe you're a psychology major..." Namjoon  letting out a humored sigh, " Only you see me like this." The taller dipping down, nuzzling his nose against yours in an Eskimo kiss. "I'm gonna peel this thing off me, it really sticks to the body."

"It's a bondage suit, that's the point." Letting out a sigh, eyes trailing over his body, The suit sticking to every muscle and joint on the man. "Checking me out over there?" Eyes rolling to the back of your head, "As if."

"Ow, so cruel." The older fakes hurt, heading off to his room changing. Being fairly familiar with Namjoon's apartment it takes very little for you to already be slouching on his couch, finding a random hentai novel laying nearby. "He doesn't even attempt to hide his porn...we love a queen." You muttered to yourself. The anime girl on the cover sparsely covered, slimy appendages which you can only assume are tentacles spread her legs open revealing her...special parts. Joon walking out in shaggy brown pants with a matching large shirt, strapped sandals on his feet.  "Good book isn't it?"

"Riveting." Getting up from the couch, "Ready Bud?" Gathering your belongings heading to his entryway, "Yeah, let's get going." Grabbing his wallet the two of you exiting his apartment. "Do you know it took a whole bottle of lube to get into that suit?" You let out a sigh, "Did I need to know?"

**  

"So what's this art class you're me telling about?" His deep voice slightly muffled as he took a sip of his ice coffee. His messy locks framing his face, dimples slightly moving as he sucks on his straw. "Lisa wants to dress me up for this art class, she said I'm boring and maybe an art class will make my life exciting since I don't go to parties." The bitter taste of coffee on your tongue, fingers busy picking flakes of your croissant. "She's not wrong about you being a bore, but what kind of art class is? This seems a little strange." His thumbs gliding along the screen of his phone as he typed up an essay for his psychology class.  "She said it was a one on one painting class with this guy named Kim...Kim Taehyung? I think?"

"One on One?" his eyebrow-raising, taking an obnoxious sip of his coffee. "They offer those? And who did you say the teacher was?"

Finger flaking the croissant, "Apparently they do and Kim Taehyung why?"

"I've heard that name before." His voice nonchalant and cool. "Kim Taehyung. You recognize the name or not Namjoon?" Your groan evident in the cafe. The darker haired male, rubbing his chin like a philosophical thinker from Ancient Greece, "Hush, I recognize the name. Used to go to high school with em." His voice blunt. Eyes narrowing, "That's it? That's all you remember about the guy?"

Namjoon's dark eyes staring into you boredly, "I mean the guy didn't stick out much, he liked to paint so I don't see it as a surprise that he's an art teacher.." His voice trailing off, "however I remember one strange rumor about him." The larger male leaning closer, whispering in your ear, suspense building the longer you waited for an answer. Joon's husky voice tickling your lobe, "He was pretty popular with the girls, quiet guy, probably a hipster, he made his rounds though, heard he's packing."

Your face stretching into one of disgust, "Really Joon? Really?" Your voice void of emotion, "I ask you for some useful information but all you do is make me regret my friendship with you." Eyes narrowed, growling at the male.

The older laughing, "He's packing, maybe he can raw your ass all the way to P. Sherman 42 Wallaby Way Sydney."

"...Joon.."

The older scrunching his nose in amusement, "Alright, Alright, well I honestly don't remember much about him, he was an underclassman so I didn't really talk to him, I remember all the girls in my grade raved about him, talking about how he seemed so aloof and innocent but in reality he was just a playboy disguised as a prince. I mean he gave off good boy vibes, he was in in a few of my classes, advanced placement and he stuck to himself, he was chill when you asked him something." He took another sip, " That's all I can offer toots."

Nibbling on your croissant, "He doesn't seem too interesting, well the class is later on tonight. Might as well get it over with so Lisa stops badgering me. Also, don't call me toots."

The older letting out a groan, " I need a nickname for you. I hate calling you by your name all the time. I'm special." You watched the older pout, his dimples moving as he sucked on his straw again.  "Who said you were special?" He shot you a glare, "Alright fine, but why Toots?"

"Short for Toostie roll." Smacking your lips, "I don't like tootsie rolls though.." His long digit flicking your nose, "Buttercup then?" You smirked, "Nice to see you use that brain of yours."

"You could've just said yes." He sighed, going back to writing his essay on his phone. "You could've  just said buttercup, you know that's my nickname Joon.." Voice muffled as you took another bite of your croissant.

"So mean buttercup.." He pouts, eyes looking down at his phone screen while he wrote his essay last minute. "So whiny Joon.." You mocked.

**

Hair damp, your breath light, eyes peering into the mirror as you slathered on your favorite lemon-scented lotion, hands running over the soft, supple flesh of your arms, legs, and thighs. The cold cream slathering over the mounds of flesh on your chest making your nipples pert, music blaring from your phone's speakers. Sliding on the skirt, and top Lisa picked, hair lightly styled you looked in the mirror. Staring back at you was a new you, a more put together you.  Cheeks cherry tinted, you gave a twirl, grabbing your bags, slipping on ankle boots. You took off.  

Skipping to the train station. Your steps light, canvas in hand, eyes reading over the address to the studio while you walked. "Block 42..1st floor?" Bottom lip victim to your teeth's gnawing as you searched for said building. Eyes roaming over the minimalist buildings surrounding you, a small window with a lovely canvas sitting on its sill, catching your eye.  The color red emphasized in the painting,  a red lycoris caught between the lips of a distorted but angelic looking male. You looked in awe at the canvas sitting in that small window, the colors, the brush strokes, the details. It was captivating.

A soft pair of almond eyes watching you, wispy red hair obscuring his vision of you, loose cardigan wrapped around his slim frame, black pants hanging loosely from his toned legs. Long arms crossed, a gentle smirk stretching across the painter's face. "It's a neat painting isn't it?"

A deep, suave voice ripping your eyes from the canvas in the window. Eyes gliding over the ethereal face of whom you believed to be your teacher for the evening.  "Did you paint it ?" Gulping slightly, shivering, looking at the male.

"That I did." His nose scrunching a little while he let out a chuckle. His long delicate digits waving you close, "Come inside, I take it you are my last class for tonight" His voice deep, his thin pinks pulling into a smile. "Yeah that's me" voice light, taking timid steps inside the toasty studio, Leonardo Da Vinci paintings bordering the entry of the studio, statues and abstract art decorating the walls. "This place is ..." Awe in your voice, eyes wandering over the room. "Amazing..?" He finished your sentence, deep purrs erupting from his chest as he closed the door to the studio. His gentle footsteps heading over to the sink, washing brushes, grabbing fresh canvases. "It's more than amazing." Taking a seat, excited for the lesson, "What will we be doing today? Watercolor, acrylic, will we even be painting?"

The redhead setting down the canvases, along with two sheets of scrap paper and pencils. "You're eager and I want to try something new." His dark almonds boring into you while he set down bottles of body paint. "Can I use you as a canvas"  Your eyebrow-raising, "Use me...as a canvas?" His cedar wood scent more prevalent the closer he leaned his face to yours.  Your cheeks a bright crimson, his breath tickling your lips as he pulls away, pencil in his hand. "I want to sketch out a design and paint it on you. I'd like to post it on my social media, you can say no of course."  No pressure in his voice.

Your timid eyes meeting his, his brown almonds looking over the supple flesh of your thighs. Your skirt letting his eyes ravish your thighs, his looks lingering.  "Where do you want to paint.?" Your cherry cheeks and timid eyes looking into his. "Your thighs, if you don't mind?" His deep voice trickling off the walls of the studio. You felt as if you could roll in it, his deep soothing voice calming your nerves. "My thighs?" A little surge of confidence running through your veins. "You'd let me?" His tone curious. Lisa's voice ringing in your ears, her snooty voice saying bore. "Might as well." Voice confident, only to spite the imaginary Lisa that was whispering in your ear, reminding you of how much of a bore you were. "Lift your skirt a little for me darling, let me  map this out." His deep voice letting out a subtle grunt.

His large hands holding the paper up to your thigh for size, a soft hum rumbling from his throat. Cheeks cherry tinted, his soft hands grazing the skin of your thighs, his bottom lip ensnared in his teeth while he worked, his pencil tickling you as it's tip drew out curves and points on the paper. His eyes wandering from the papers every now and then as he caught a glimpse of your mesh panties. The fabric did little to conceal your pink nub from his peripheral, his steady hands working as he continued to map out an intricate galaxy design on the scrap piece of paper, his almond eyes a shade darker.  

Marker in hand he begins sketching out his design, tongue swabbing the inside of his cheek while he worked. His clement, fluid hands brushing against you. The felt tip marker ticking your sensitive skin. His eyes every now and then staring at your twitching nub. "Your skin is really soft you know?" A small hiccup erupting from you, "..No?" Deep chuckles erupting from his chest, "Cute." His messy sketch finished, his almonds focused on the array of body paints on the table. "Mhm, tell me little Dove. What color palette suits you?" His fingers fiddling with the hem of your skirt, "Warm?" Smirk on his face, "Cool?" His breath ticking your chin as he looked up at you, "or a nice Pastel?" His fingers tentatively inching further and further up your thigh.

Breath hitching, your eyes traveling down his loose blouse to his sun-kissed torso, a smirk on his face, "Like what you see?" Face crimson, "I do." His finger pushing your skirt up, a gentle flick to your clit. "I like what I'm seeing too." His voice deep, hand grabbing a bottle and paint brush. "I think pastels suit you best little Dove."  Gathering the light colors he starts building and mixing. Your eyes watching his long digits stir and mix. The way his delicate fingers held the brush, his long thin digits. You bit your lips, impure thoughts popping into your head.

Rubbing your thighs he starts painting, brush bristles moving lightly across your skin. His eyes focused, a soft hum rumbling from his chest. You watched, his beautiful features accentuated as he concentrated, paint wet and cold against your thighs. Light hisses escaping you. "It tickles." His brush strokes delicate, his eyes focused on the supple skin of your thighs, "Stay still for me Little Dove, I know it can be ticklish, but be a good birdie and stay still?" His voice gentle, his soft breaths echoing through the room as he worked.

Legs inching open while he worked, his brush strokes becoming soothing, slight shivers trailing up your spine each time he added more paint. "A little wider for me Dove." His free hand gently trailing up the opening to your skirt, your nub temping him. "Can I?"  Cheeks blossoming a pink tint, it had been a long time since you slept with another and to have someone like him take interest in you was daunting. "Y-Yes..." Voice barely a stutter, his almonds meeting yours, his brush strokes coming to a halt. "I need a clear, confident, answer Dove."

"Yes." Your eyes meeting his, you could feel yourself getting lost in their beauty. "That's more like it Little Dove." His tone affectionate as he continued his brush strokes, one hand elaborately mixing and painting on the supple flesh of your thighs. The other hand sliding your panties aside, his forefinger and thumb mercilessly teasing your clit, pinching and rubbing the poor nub with the pad of his thumb.  Your squirms making him smirk. "Stay still Dove, I'm almost done." His other hand reaching for a sponge and fine detail brush, his bottom lip ensared in his teeth. 

A few more minutes of this passing by before be leaned back admiring his work, "Perfect." His hands grabbing a mask on the table, "Slip this on for me Dove, and spread your legs for me." Giving him a coy nod, you did as you were told, slipping on the mask and spreading your legs. His tepid hands adjusting your skirt to conserve your modestly, the sounds of a camera's shutters meeting your ears, several clicks echoing throughout the room. "So perfect, I'll be posting these. You don't mind, do you?" Voice light as he removed the mask from your face. 

"Of course not." A smile on your face, blush dusting your cheeks. Paint wet, his large hands carefully tugging your skirt from your hips. Your hands pushing away his button up, letting the fabric hang from his shoulders while your hands traveled his shapely torso.  "So eager, I love it." His lips delicately kissing your lobes as he muttered his praises in your ear.  His deep whisper sending electric shocks down your spine,  light mewls escaping your lips when his delicate digits began to rub over your clothed slit.  Fingertips tracing the outline of a circle over your clothed heat, purposely avoiding your center. "Don't tease me." Your small pout coming out as a moan, the redhead looking up at you with a satisfied grin on his face. "Be patient Little Dove, sex is an art and art takes time." A low growl escaping him as you rubbed your knee against his sizeable bulge in protest.

His almonds darkening, his hands gripping your hips with force and he pulled you bottom half against his, his bulge harshly coming into contact with your heat. "Listen to what I say, Little Dove, don't make me angry." Voice sharp, a light trickle escaping your folds. The friction causing your body to tremble with pleasure, light pants making your chest heave. A harsh red dusting your cheeks, lips beginning to swell from your relentless biting. "That a girl, keep being a good Little Dove and I might reward you."  His lips connecting with yours, his tongue quickly claiming your mouth as his. Tongues caressed in wet, vehement battle. Languid, slow strokes complemented with guttural growls escaping the lewd artist. Bulge creating a steady friction between the two of you as he ground his hips against your hungry core.

"Fuck, such a good girl." Eyes lidded, his ivories tugging on your bottom lip leaving the flesh bruised and abused. "Tell me, Little Dove." Hands pulling your panties down, mindful of the still wet paint on your thigh. "Do you like it rough?" A deep growl following his inquiry, a harsh but landed smack grazing your clit. An abrupt squeak leaving your lips rushes of adrenaline shooting through your abdomen. "Or, do you like slow and soft." His voice lightening as he lovingly rubbed his bulge against your swollen and sensitive love. Blood rushing to your poor love button as it puffed and twitched under his ministrations. "Ahh!" Abdomen trembling under his weight, no matter how minuscule the ministration you felt it in every part of your being, his touches overwhelming.

An evil chuckle escaping the mahogany-haired male, he took pride in his work. He knew how much control he had over you and he loved every second of it. "Tell me, Dove," He leaned close to your ear, breaths tickling your lobe, "Do you like being told of how of slut and dirty whore your being? Do you like being told how tight your pink little pussy is? Would you like me to tell how I'm going to stuff my cock into that dripping cunt, how I'm going to make your pussy weep. How we'll make this table shake?" His wet muscle gently nipping your ear, saturating your lobe with a loving lick. His hot muscle feeling cool against your scorching skin.

With his thumb persistently torturing your nub, the merlot haired male used his free hand to lower his dress pants, a large, veiny and swollen length springing free from its cotton confines.  Fingertips dipping into your core, spreading your folds, your slick spreading down the length of his fingers. His cock gave a twitch at the sight of your liquids. Lips latching to your neck, tongue smoothing over the supple skin, "Or, do you like being a pampered baby. Do you like me worshipping your body, every nook and cranny being cared for." His voice gentle, plush lips feathering kisses down your shoulder, hands swiftly flinging your shirt to an unknown corner of the studio.  His tongue giving curious licks to your pert buds, "Mhm baby? Want to treat you like a divine canvas?"  His voice deepening, eyes dark he latches himself onto your pert bud, his digits curling inside your heat.

 Fingers increasing their pace while he sucked your delicate mound, moans, and cries leaving your lips as you felt a build up in your abdomen that you hadn't felt in years.  However, just as you started to see stars the sensation was lost when he pulled his fingers and lips from your body. "Shh baby, I can't have you feeling euphoria when we haven't even gotten to the main part of today's lesson." Letting out a cocky grin, he led himself into you, his aching crown spreading the wet walls of your core, your chest heaving, groans escaping you while your core stretched to accommodate his intrusive size and wide girth.  "S-So tight!" His grunt shaky as he hunched over you, the pastel paint along your thighs, still damp, smearing against both of your abdomens, the cold textures covering the two of you in goosebumps.

 Back arching, hands finding their way to his fiery locks, your digits intertwining with his tresses, your soft squeaks echoing in his ears. His hips giving a curious thrust, your walls tightening around him as pleasure shot through your body, thighs wrapping around his waist, paints smearing and racing along your bodies. The cool textures doing little to lower the temperatures, of scorching skins rubbing against each other as he picked up the pace. Length pulling out completely before sliding back into you, guttural grunts escaping him as he held your hips in place, teeth latching themselves to the crook of your neck. spreading your thighs apart he continued, hips pistoning themselves into your tight core. Length reaching the innermost corners of your heat, his crown giving you an immense pleasure you had yet to experience in your sex life.

 "Ahh, more, give me more!!" Your cries took into account, his teeth tightening on your neck, huffs escaping his chest causing his nose to flare.  Adjusting the position slightly, lips pulling away from your neck, his dark browns staring down at you. His sun-kissed torso on display for your eyes to ravage, the pastels painted on your body now smeared and mixed along with his lean abdomen, clit twitching at the sight. "You're going to want to hang on Dove" Pecking your lips, "I'll pull out, trust me." He murmured against your neck. Your hand dipping itself into the paints, curiously pressing your handprint against his firm chest, his lips curling into a smile as he does the same placing a set of handprints on your breasts. Hips slamming into you, the table supporting the two of you wobbling, it's legs letting out subtle creaks that could vaguely be heard over the clapping sound of flesh that rang throughout the studio. 

His eyes darkened as he looked down at you, taking in your handprinted breasts, your walls clenched tightly while he spread them. His free hand dipping in paints as he lightly smacked your chest, watching your mounds shake as he slammed his length further and further into your core. The lighthanded smacks ringing in your ears, you watched the paints melt into an ombre as they slithered from your mounds to your stomach. Loud grunts escaping him as he continued to slam his cock further and further into your heat. Not leaving an inch of space between your core and the tip of his cock as he continuously pierced it. His sunkissed torso now splattered with pastels, creating a lewd contrast. The way the wet paint dripped along his chest, his nipples slightly perked as the paint raced down to his abdomen.

"S-Such a dirty girl." A guttural groan escaping the hunched male, his eyes trailed down to where the two of you connected, his bottom lip ensared in his ivories as he watched his cock spread your cunt, a pearly froth coating his shaft. "Who said you could cum around me, Little Dove?" His snarl ringing in your ears as his grip begins to bruise your hips, his trusts becoming increasingly heavier. Animalistic grunts and groans escaped his lips as he slammed his weight into you, your hands flying to his torso for support. The pastels beginning to dry with a beautiful sheen,  a stunning blend of colors coating the two of you. Your nails scratching his chest. Gently scraping away the paints, his cock stirring a familiar feeling in your abdomen. Back arched, your bud twitching the more his crown hit that one spot that made you see stars.

"Ah-hh T-Tae!!" Toes curling, fingers clawing his chest, walls suffocating his member as you released yourself around him, another pearly layer coating his shaft. "H-Holy shit!!" He falters, quickly separating himself from your core, he wraps a hand around his shaft, pumping himself. His hand vigorously running along his length, tip an angry twitching red,  a loud cry of ecstasy filling the room as thick ropes of cum splattered against your abdomen.

The milky substance exuding a warmth against your skin. "Mhm," His lips swollen, eyes looking down at your paint covered body, giving your nipples a light pinch he trails a hand down to his puddle on your abdomen. His forefinger dipping in the pearly puddle, a ticklish feeling as he etches into the puddle. His signature. "You're the most beautiful canvas I've ever gotten the pleasure to paint on." He smirks, dipping down he brings his mouth to your ear, "I just had to leave my signature."

A light gasp escaping you when you looked down to his signature written in the splattered cum on your abdomen.  A pink dusting your cheeks. "L-Let's get cleaned up." Eyes trailing over the pastel mess covering the two of you. "I have a shower over there." He nods over to the shower head in the corner in the studio, a drain on the floor nearby, no curtains or stalls. "Shower?" Planting a kiss on your nose he smiles, "This studio used to be a chemistry lab so they needed the shower for safety reasons, however, since I converted this place into an art studio I never really had the chance to get rid of it."

"I'm glad you didn't get rid of it, going home in this mess would be quite the task." You giggled, getting up from the wobbly table. Looking down at the damage, cheeks flushing at his signature on your body.

"Mind if I shower with you?" He chuckles as he gathers towels, letting the shower run.

"After this evening it'd be a little strange for me to tell you 'no' wouldn't it?" Your giggle echoing throughout the room. His paint covered hand waving you over. "That's now come mere baby." His tone loving as he pulled you under the steaming water. His large hands roaming your body as the two of you scrubbed away the paint from your bodies. Splattering water was all that could be heard, the warm liquid warming the two of you.

"Will I see you again?" Your voice coming off as a gentle plea. His chin rested atop your head. "I don't see why not, next time we should meet under normal circumstances don't you think so Dove?" An almost immediate nod coming from you, "I'd like that, to see what you're like outside of the studio." A small smile tugging at your lips, the water showering the two of you in a layer of warmth. Large hands roaming your body down to your hips, his palm cupping your core. "Until then.." He smirks, "Can I play with you a little more baby?" The red-headed male dropping to his knees as he spread your thighs open.

Carefully leaning against the back wall, head tilted back as his skilled tongue began to trace over your slit. Gentle licks and sucks attacking your nub,  your hands quickly latching themselves to his scalp. Tugging at his red locks as his pace picked up. His lewd slurps causing your cheeks to darken to a crimson shade. His tongue paying special attention to your clit as he began to softly hum. The vibrations sending shivers along the length of your spine, the once hot water now becoming cool against your skin.  A soft whine of protest escaping you as he pulled away. "I have to close up the studio baby, next time we will continue this." Standing at your level he gave you heated kissed, one that was a mixture of emotions. Lust, attraction, curiosity, and longing. You already missed him and you haven't even left yet.

**

The cool fall breeze knocked on the windows to your apartment. Leaves and sticks brushed against your door. Namjoon spamming your phone with every passing minute. He was coming over later on for a movie marathon, Lisa was joining too. You were in limbo. Ever since you saw Taehyung that evening last week you hadn't been able to erase the redheaded man from your memory. He hadn't contacted you since. Was it your fault? Did he even know your name? He only referred to you as 'Dove'. You missed him. Every day since you had to reframe yourself from walking to his studio, to push him against the wall and ask him where he had been. Ask him why he hadn't said anything. Why he didn't keep his word.

A soft knocking shattered your thoughts. "I'm in the middle of having a pity party, who the hell is bothering me." You let out a low growl as you trudged yourself to the front door. Peaking through the peephole seeing no one on the other side. "I swear Joon if you are playing tricks on me again!!" You shouted, opening the door preparing yourself to be tackled by Namjoon in his gimp costume but there was no one there. Just a piece of paper sticking out from your mailbox. "The mailman doesn't come by on Sundays.." Your eyebrows furrowing. Carefully taking the paper from the mailbox, you unfolded it. You're stomach fluttering, blood running to your cheeks. Painted in watercolor was you.  A painting of you nude, covered in a gradient of pastels, along with a pearly puddle on your abdomen. Written in a sloppy black cursive was a message.

"I had a hard time tracking you down Little Dove. Haven't been able to stop thinking about you since. How about dinner next time?"  Clutching the painting against your chest, the heat in your face making it a little hard to breathe. "W-What did I get myself into.."

[goforwardgreenwriter-blog]

The Worm Reads: Empire of Storms, Ch 42 - 43

I AM ACTUALLY SPEECHLESS HOLY FUCKING SHIT

Manon Blackbeak cracked open eyelids that were too heavy, too burning, and squinted against the flickering lantern light that swayed upon the wood panels of the room in which she lay.

HHHH I’VE BEEN DREADING THIS. Please kiss the Manon we know goodbye, because we’re likely gonna never see her again after this chapter.

[Manon] bolted upright. Abraxos. Where was Abraxos—

Unghhh their relationship is too pure and wholesome for this shitty novel. I seriously want Manon to leave this series and go to HTTYD, it’s what she deserves.

(...) the chains now around Manon’s wrists, around her ankles—anchored into the walls with what appeared to be freshly drilled holes.

FRESHLY DRILLED HOLES. What did they use to drill those holes? Don’t tell me they popped down to Home Depot and picked up a brand new screw gun I am l aughing

Alien is there and already I’m seeing red please SJM i am begging u keep Alien’s crusty ass 100000 miles away from Manon

[Aelin] jerked her chin toward the floor. A pitcher and cup lay there. “Water’s next to the bed. If you can reach it.”

YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE YOU’RE GOING TO LET MANON DIE OF HYDRATION IF SHE CAN’T REACH THE WATER?? FUCK YOU, ALIEN, YOU MASSIVE PIECE OF SHIT.

And as it turns out, Manon can’t reach the water and passes out soon afterwards. Fuck Alien I can’t think of one character I hate more than her fucking selfish ass.

Even unconscious, Manon’s every breath, every twitch, was a reminder that she was a born predator, her agonizingly beautiful face a careful mask to lure the unwary to their doom.

idk this seems weird... Manon is passed out from pain but they’re all splooging over how hot and dangerous she is... idk...

They were nearing Banjali now—and Dorian had tried and failed not to think of his dead friend with every league closer to the lovely city. Tried and failed not to consider if Nehemia would have been with them on this very ship had things not gone so terribly wrong.

*sobs* I miss Nehemia.... she deserved so much better....

“Hello, witchling,” [Dorian] said. [Manon’s] full, sensuous mouth tightened slightly, either in a repressed grimace or smile, he couldn’t tell.

What the fuck is up with SJM making all her men horny for the women’s lips during situations that are in no way sexual?? Like Manon is a prisoner tied up and dying of hydration, why is Dorian thinking about her mouth this is so fucking weird

Dorian didn’t feel like mentioning that he’d been the one who’d jumped into the water [to save Manon]. He’d just … acted, as Manon had acted when she’d saved him in his tower. He owed her nothing less.

Ungh SJM is totally gonna make this a thing ain’t she. Like Dorian is just repaying her here but you know, you just know SJM is gonna use this for them to hook up.

Manon asks Dorian about Elide and the Thirteen and Dorian is like “who the hell are those guys” and Manon gets all sad and I’m :(((((

Whatever had happened, whatever [Manon] had endured … Dorian draped an arm along the back of his chair. “It’s coming in a few minutes. I’d hate for you to waste away into nothing. It’d be a shame to lose the most beautiful woman in the world so soon into her immortal, wicked life.”

Heh, that’s typical Dorian for you. Hey, maybe this ship won’t be so bad! Maybe they’ll become really good supportive friends who bond over all the trauma they went through and-

“I am not a woman,” was all [Manon] said. But hot temper laced those molten gold eyes. [Dorian] gave her an indolent shrug, perhaps only because she was indeed in chains, perhaps because, even though the death she radiated thrilled him, it did not strike a chord of fear. “Witch, woman … as long as the parts that matter are there, what difference does it make?”

WHAT

THE

ACTUAL

FUCK

SJM. ARE YOU EVEN FUCKING KIDDING ME. DO YOU KNOW TRANSGENDER PEOPLE EXIST?? THAT NOT ALL WOMEN HAVE VAGINAS??? ARE YOU FUCKING SAYING TRANS WOMEN ARE LESS OF WOMEN IF THEY DON’T HAVE BREASTS AND VAGINAS??? BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT IT FUCKING LOOKS LIKE TO ME.

I CANNOT FUCKING BELIEVE THIS IS IN AN EPIC FANTASY SERIES. SJM WROTE THIS, EDITORS EDITED IT, AND THEN IT WAS PUBLISHED, AND NOBODY THOUGHT “oh hey, the implications of this are reaaaally bad, let’s cut it”

DJFHSJDFHAFJ THIS IS SO BAD THIS IS REALLY REALLY BAD HOLY SHIT I THOUGHT THIS WAS JUST A BOOK WITH SHITTY PLOT AND WRITING AND CHARACTERS BUT NOW WE CAN ADD TRANSPHOBIA TO THE LIST THATS JUST GREAT.

Sorry about that little tangent but my jaw actually hung wide open when I read that line. Holy fucking shit this novel is going to put me in the ground six feet under.

Dorian offered a lazy grin in return. “Believe it or not, this ship has an unnatural number of attractive men and women on board. You’ll fit right in. And fit in with the cranky immortals, I suppose.”

I’m so heartbroken but... I have to disown my baby boy. Dorian was once one of my few favorite characters but SJM has killed him and replaced him with a transphobic asshole. I’m so sorry my baby boy, you flew too close to the sun. You are hereby demoted to Dorito.

Assdion rears his ugly ass head to be rude to Manon and kiss Alien’s ass before leaving. Bye bitch, hope you fall off the ship and drown.

“Then I suppose you and I are both heirs without crowns.”

Remember last time Alien said this and I defended Dorito, saying he deserved his crown? Oh, how I took those earlier chapters for granted......

The rest of the chapter is Manon angsting about all the shit she’s been through lately. Since I like Manon and she has reason to be upset, I don’t have anything to make snarks about so next chapter.

Lorcan was still wondering what the hell he was doing three days later

Oh fucking great, I just witnessed the murder of my son Dorian and now I gotta read in Lorcan’s POV? Just keep kicking me while I’m down why don’t you, SJM.

“It’s going to rain.” [Elide] slid a flat glance at him. “I do know what thunder means.”

Just fucking stop. This isn’t entertaining at all to watch two people bicker and made snarky remarks 100% of the time to one another and yet we’re supposed to believe they’re bonding I want to d ie

“Drink,” Elide commanded him. Lorcan debated telling her not to give him orders, but … he liked seeing this small, fine-boned creature in action.

What the fuck does that mean?? Fine boned?? Is that really a way people describe others???? What the fuck am I reading???

So Lorcan drank and watched [Elide] while she watched others. So many calculating thoughts beneath that pale face, so many lies ready to spill from those rosebud lips.

I’m so tired like. You guys have done nothing but argue and avoid each other and now Lorass is getting horny at the sight of Elide’s lips I’m so tired.

[Elide] was going to leave. Tomorrow, whenever the carnival rolled out. She’d likely hire one of these boats to take her northward, and [Lorcan] … he would go south. To Morath.

:(( the girl I emotionally abuse is going to leave after we both lied to one another :((( this is so sad can we get 100 likes

Elide talks to some people inside a tavern about Alien.

“Seems like the queen has a habit of showing up where she’s least expected, unleashing chaos, and vanishing again.

FINISH HER

Elide walked out of the third tavern, Lorcan on her heels. They hadn’t spoken once since she’d gone into that first inn. He’d been too lost in contemplating what it would be like to suddenly travel on his own again. To leave her … and never see her again.

I am utterly baffled you two have been nothing but assholes to each other!!! Like seriously you haven’t done anything nice for each other!!! Like wtf SJM is trying make us all :’((( about them splitting up but I can’t wait until this stupid subplot ends!

Elide reveals she can’t read to Lorass and he tries to compliment her, but...?

He wondered if he would have ever noticed if she hadn’t told him. “You seem to have survived rather impressively without it.”

I mean, good on him for not judging her, but like, she was locked up in a tower doing maid work? Reading skills really wouldn’t have made much of a difference there.

Turns out their carnival co workers ratted them out and sent guards after them. Lorass hauls Elide over his shoulder and makes a run for it.

“The gates at the city entrance,” [Elide] gasped as muscle and bone pummeled into her gut. “They’ll be there, too.”

Holy shit that sounds painful. She’s not a sack of potatoes Lorass, try some gentleness.

Lorcan pocketed the axe he’d thumbed free

You literally just took out your axe like two paragraphs ago on the same page. What was the point of this?

They find some rando and force him to get them the hell out of dodge on his boat. Elide hears a splash but doesn’t think anything of it until she sees Lorass again.

[Elide] glanced at the hatchet at [Lorcan’s] side as he strode out of the cabin. “You killed him, didn’t you?” That was what the splash had been. A body being dumped over the side.

So, just to recap, according to Lorass.... killing an innocent man who helped you escape the guards; completely justifiable. Stealing something you suspect is bad from a woman you don’t even like; evil, unacceptable, crossing a line. 

“He might have had a family depending on him.” [Elide]’d seen no wedding ring, but it didn’t mean anything.

I was about to get tilted but SJM corrected herself. I hate the mentality that if you don’t have a spouse, you clearly can’t have a family who depends on you. Kids from previous relationships, parents, grandparents, siblings, they’re family too y’know.

Lorass finds out the Wyrdkey he carried is a fake and loses his shit.

Then Lorcan flung open the door, so violently it nearly ripped off its hinges, and hurled what looked to be the shards of a broken amulet into the river. Or he tried to. Lorcan threw it hard enough that it cleared the river entirely and slammed into a tree, gouging out a chunk of wood.

I enjoy his misery tbh. Lorass is so pissy he reveals to Elide that Alien was Celaena, or as I like to call her Celery, at one point.

“You knew, and you didn’t tell me. Why?” “You still haven’t told me your secrets. I don’t see why I should tell all of mine, either.”

I mean, yeah, hate to agree with Lorass but fair enough. You’ve both done nothing but lie to each other’s faces, why would he tell you that? I want to like Elide but all this shitty drama and bickering is making my affection for her wear thin.

Then - holy fucking shit, there’s like a bunch of huuuuuuge paragraphs of Lorass and Elide bickering and they’re so fucking big. This hurts my eyes to look at. I’m gonna screencap one of them, just to show you how fucking huge they are.

HOLY SHIT SJM BREAK UP YOUR BIG ASS BRICKS OF TEXT PLEASE. My eyes started to cross trying to read this, it took me like three tries.

tl;dr because of some bullshit Lorass is staying with Elide because they both have business with Alien. Fuckin’ great, I love everyone’s agendas revolving around the main special snowflake, just fuckin’ great.

There’d been nothing inside the amulet but one of those rings—an utterly useless Wyrdstone ring, wrapped in a bit of parchment. And on it was written in a feminine scrawl: Here’s hoping you discover more creative terms than “bitch” to call me when you find this. With all my love, A.A.G.

Maybe I’d find this amusing if Alien wasn’t a walking shitstain, but... I’m tired. I’m so goddamn tired.

[Lorcan]’d kill [Aelin]. Slowly. Creatively.

Damn wish you would fam, but Alien’s got plot armor bigger than her fuckin’ ego. Lorass ends the chapter by saying he’ll kill Alien, which we all know won’t happen. I’m betting money that there’ll probably be a Lorass/Rowboat/Alien love triangle once Lorass sees what an ~uhmazing~ queen Alien is. Don’t give me that look, you know SJM would.

[legrandepapillon]

Get In (thaurens)

Summary: In summary, high school math teachers are shit. Prompt: ‘Need a ride?’ Beginning Notes: yall thaurens is so cute tbh what are we missing out on here

John Laurens exits Kings High School with annoyance written clearly on his face and his backpack heavy with extra math homework. The wet wind howls wildly outside the safe haven of the school, trees bending in the direction of the stormy mess and lightning crackling overhead. He doesn't even bother stepping from under the canopy—it's obvious it's going to be pouring down rain soon. Of course, it would rain at 6 o'clock on an already terrible Monday, when he has to go pick his little sister up from the middle school. Internally, John curses his habit of running into terrible luck. If his stupid fucking Math teacher hadn't of held him back after class, if the man would have just waited until Friday when he knew Martha would ride home with her best friends for a sleepover, he wouldn’t be in this predicament. But no, apparently because he had come to the school in the middle of the school year, he desperately needed tutoring to even dare meet the level of curriculum that the other students were meeting. The douchebag probably had forgotten that he came from a Magnet school. The worst part is, he can't even call one of his best friends to come pick him up because his phone is dead—it had died while he was attempting to call Martha and let her know that she would have to call their father to pick her up. At least he'd been able to talk to his sister before his phone died, so hopefully Martha was home—safe from the storm. That still didn't explain how he would get home. Ready to give up and storm back inside to ask to use the phone—which he would have to give his ID number for, and explain why he needed to use a school phone after school hours, and blah blah blah—John turns on his heel with frustration written all over his face. But the sound of a car horn honking twitches his curiosity. Like every other human being, when a car honks, he has to look. John turns and looks over his shoulder for another student waiting to be picked up by an expectant parent or older sibling. Parked haphazardly in the parking lot—he can hear his father's voice complaining about poor drivers that take up two spaces, because this car takes four—is a boy. Man, actually—with unruly dark curls and flirtatious brown eyes, sitting in the driver's seat of an expensive looking black pick-up truck. From appearances, he looks to be a college kid—maybe one of the students that attend King’s college program in the mountains. His wrist is draped over the steering wheel lazily, and his chair is leaned so far back he can't possibly be able to see the streets. He would look like a normal college kid, if it weren't for his very wet hair and car interior—as if he'd driven his car with the windows rolled down. The boy honks again and smiles at him, popping his gum in his mouth. John cringes.

"Need a ride?” he offers, leaning over to open the passenger side door. Immediately, alarm bells are ringing in John' ears. Some random college kid is driving around, offering seventeen-year-old high school students rides in their shady looking pick-up truck. John may not have a lot of street smarts, but he was far smarter than that. Not to mention his counselor gave him the standard 'don't talk to strangers' talk when he enrolled, as if he were a child. John is about to answer with a snippy 'no' when two heads poke into the front, both of the boys seeming confused as to why they were stopping. Two sets of chocolate brown eyes both look him up and down before turning towards the driver. He knows those two students—James Madison and Aaron Burr, two of the most popular kids in the entire school. James was a campuswide name due to him being only a fifteen-year-old about to graduate, and Aaron was known for his ability to 'get around'. They both were Juniors—Aaron was on the varsity swimming team and James was the Engineering teams pride and joy. The point was, he sort of knew them, but he wondered why the Juniors were in the truck with this strange boy—who he still thought was pedophilic. "Thomas, let's go!" James whines, reaching over the steering wheel and honking his horn. The boy smacks his hand and glares at him. "Wait, he's trying to get laid," Aaron jokes. John flushes, hopes that his blush isn’t recognizable from where he stands. "Uh, no thanks," he answers, remembering the boys offer. "I was just going to call my mom."

John gestures lamely towards the school and makes to turn back around. Thomas chuckles and shakes his head, his wet mop of hair falling into his eyes. He opens his door, and hops out—to the sound of James' displeased groan—before running over to meet him under the canopy. Up close, John realizes his eyes aren't brown but the color of caramel—brown in essence, but speckled with different shades of green. They're actually extremely gorgeous. "Well, then, here's some advice," he says, whipping out what appears to be a brand new phone—he wonders how he can have the latest generation of Android and the latest year of car, figures he’s probably spoiled rich—and pulling up the weather forecast. "If you live in the Northeast, then there's no way she's coming out to get you—not if she doesn't want to crash into some bat shit crazy drivers—people like us. We just came from that way—streets are full on flooded, water came up to my calves. If she cares about her car, she'll wait until the rain lets up. Same for the East. West is the only place where it's not raining cats and dogs... yet. Look, I'm only offering you a ride because we're driving around and we saw you over here, looking like someone just ran over your puppy. And they're going to kick you off school ground at seven, then you'll be walking around here trying not to drown. Accept it or not—I'm trying to be nice." "How would you get me home if there's no way we're driving that way?" John asks, crossing his arms over his chest and narrowing his eyes. This entire situation is sketchy, but he proves some valid points. Plus, he sort of knows James and Aaron—they all had AP Physics together—and even if he doesn't know 'Thomas', then he kind of knows them and so far, they've proven to be alright in his book. "We won't. You can hang out with us until my friend Adams texts us and tells it's let up over there—we were on our way to his place. We'll drop you off on the way," he offers, with a head tilt and lopsided grin. John sighs and looks around nervously. He didn't want to stick around until the rain let up—who knows when that will be—but he also didn't want to get in a car full of partial strangers. "I don't even know you," he voices, looking up from the gum spotted concrete of the entrance to his school. Thomas shrugs and his smile widens. "Well, I'm Thomas Jefferson—I graduated from here last year. That’s James Madison and Aaron Burr, but I'm sure you know them already. Anyone who goes to this crusty ass school knows those two. And curled in the back napping is Theodosia Bartow—you should know her, she's a Junior." He did know Theodosia Bartow a bit—they had English III together. Theodosia was one of their smartest students. She would sit with John and talk sometimes—when she wasn't focusing on whatever they were doing in class or tuning out into her own world. John would even call her a friend. "I still don't think I should get in a car with you guys. For all I know, you're a group of rapists," he says. Thomas laughs, his head tilting back and showing his Adam's apple. It takes a long few moments for him to realize he's serious. When he does, he rolls his eyes and shrugs again. "Suit yourself, sweetheart. Don't say we never did something for ya," he says, before stalking off back towards the car. John fidgets, watching as his one chance home walks away. He checks his cracked watch, seeing the time as six thirty. Thirty more minutes on campus before they kick him off, no matter the circumstances. Grumbling about going to a shitty school, John lurches forward and grabs Thomas' sleeve. He turns to look at her, a smug 'I-told-you-so' smile on his lips. John resists the urge to punch it off. "Fine. But I need to borrow your phone and call my mother first," he says. Thomas inputs his password and hands him his phone, where he quickly dials his mother's number. It takes a few rings, but then his little sister's voice fills the receiver. He breathes a sigh of relief—this meant Martha was with their mom, at home. Either way, his sister was out of the horrible weather. "Marty, I'm going to be with some friends. I'm going to call you, every hour on the hour until the rain let's up. If I don't call at seven thirty, call the cops, okay? And don't tell mom unless I don't call, alright?" John voice is hurried. He dares a glance at Thomas, who doesn't seem fazed at the instructions at all. Maybe he's not a rapist or a murderer or whatever the hell. "’Kay, Jack. Where are you going with your friends?" Marty asks childishly—John thanks his lucky stars for his sister being the obedient little girl that she is and not asking what friends he would be with or asking why he would have to call the cops. "Just to their house for pizza and soda. I'll bring you some back," he assures his little sister. Martha squeals in delight and the two siblings trade their goodbyes—John going over the instructions twice more before hanging up. As soon as he's deleted his mother's number from his call log, John hands Thomas his phone back. The taller of the two pockets the device and grins maniacally at him before rushing to the driver's seat. In the back seat, James and Aaron give loud ‘Finally!’s when he explains that they've got a new companion. John continues to stand outside the passenger door, the nervousness taking its grip on him. Thomas grins at him again and opens the door for him. "Get in bitch, we're going shopping!" he shouts in a high-pitched nasally voice, waving her in. Hopping in the truck, John wonders if he’s going to regret this.

[literary-spirit]

Confessions of a Mikaelson: Possessing the Bennett

*Warning there's not only smut in this chapter, but there'll also be a crap ton of lemonade throughout this story. It's rated M for a reason, my fellow Bonnie lovers. So if you're not with it then I'll completely understand and for those of you who wish to proceed, please remember to buckle your seatbelts and strap on you helmets, this road is cluttered and broken.* Okay so Francesca and I are working on something new. This WIP begins at the end of 01X01 TVD and swerves recklessly out of the canon plot line into a very strange AU! So you've been warned! Flame it or acclaim in comments. I'll leave it up to the Bennett Fandom on whether this hot mess of a WIP lives to see another update!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, none of these characters belong to me. And to add unfairness to poetic injustice, neither does the shows or the books. However, I still intend to pull the characters' strings and make them dance, all while having a ball upsetting canon plot lines!

Bonnie Bennett glared down at her smashed to hell pager. "Fucking, fuckery, fuck!"

She cringed after the string of no-no words leapt from her mouth. Unholy hell. Well, that would be another fifteen dollars for the swear jar. Her Grams had created the damn thing before she passed away. It was meant to help her broaden her vocabulary now it would probably be what put her through college.

For reasons she never really wanted to consider, she still faithfully added money to the jar whenever one of those slippery bastards (swear words) tumbled from her lips. Which fortunately only occurred when she was upset, stressed, depressed, bored, or angry. Okay, when she reflected upon it, half of her verbal interactions consisted of inappropriate phrases. Who the hell was she fooling? Her tongue had never met an explicit word it couldn't commit to.

Her glare left her broken pager to assess the front wheel of her bike. The damn thing had nearly folded in half. Well, it could've been worse. Instead of Caroline Forbes making her crash her bike into one of the wooden poles of Wickery Bridge, she could've simply knocked her over the rail. Bonnie wondered if the vapid bitch would've stopped then. She shook her head. Probably not. Why would she?

Bonnie Bennett was selectively invisible to the Mystic Falls' High elite. The only time any of those beautiful vultures ever acknowledged her was when they wanted to score some mushrooms and organic Mary J from her Grams garden or if they wanted to purchase a term paper. Other than that, she could walk down the halls bare assed wearing nothing but a smile and no one would raise even a threaded eyebrow. However, their impaired vision on all things Bonnie Bennett suited her just fine. She preferred living her day to day in between the lines. It afforded her certain privacies those who basked in the spot light were denied.

Yet, that evening she could've used just a bit of the spotlight. Not only was her bike a fucking tragedy, but her ankle was busted all to hell too. Without a ride or a phone, she'd have to limp her happy ass all the way home. Unless, the caretaker of the Mikaelson Estate took pity on her and allowed her to call a taxi. Bonnie didn't hold out much hope, though.

She honestly couldn't remember the last time the old crusty son of a bitch opened the wrought iron front gates. Maybe it was the last time the Mikaelsons were actually in residence. But when the hell was that? She'd lived in Mystic Falls all of her life and she'd never so much as caught a glimpse of the family. Talk was, they travelled year round and the Mikaelson Estate was only one of many properties they owned. And if rumors danced close to fact, then the residence should be in possession of at least one damn phone.

Not wanting to linger any longer on the bridge which hosted a shit ton of animal attacks, Bonnie struggled to drag her bike to the grassy area under the Wickery sign. Once she chained it to the wooden pole, she began to limp towards the Estate. It took her fifteen slow as shit minutes to reach the intercom outside the gates. To her surprise the house twinkled with a dozen or so lights too many. A frown crumpled her face. Normally, the house stood cloaked in shadows around that time of evening. For a brief second she found herself hesitating to press the intercom button. However, the aching throb of her ankle gave her the motivation she required to ring the caretaker.

A few moments after the crackly sound subsided an elderly voice answered. "Yes?"

"Hi," she said, trying her damnest to put on her sweetest good girl voice. "I just wrecked my bike on Wickery Bridge and broke my pager. Would it be possible for me to use your phone?"

Without explanation the intercom went silent. When she moved to press the button again, the gates swung open. Her eyes nearly hit the paved driveway at the sight of an old school Bentley pulling to a stop at the entrance. Seconds later, the—older than sand—caretaker exited the driver seat and shuffled around the car to open the back door.

Bonnie hobbled over to the car. Once there, she eased herself into the back seat. After closing the door, it took him every bit of eight minutes to reclaim his seat behind the steering wheel and another ten before he pulled the Bentley in front of the huge French glass double doors at the front of the Mansion. Deciding not to wait another twenty minutes for the caretaker to open her door, she slid from the backseat.

By the time she'd limped to the entrance, the caretaker had pulled the car away from the front of the house. Soon as she teetered to a stop on the proverbial welcome mat, the doors swung open. The air thickened right before several intoxicating forces nearly knocked her to the ground. An electric pulsing sensation shot from her center and surged through her vessels. The pulsating pooled in the palms of her hands, while forcing its way outward to thrum just beneath the surface of her skin. It was almost as if the intense vibrations deep within her responded to the pounding energy pouring from the mansion.

Bonnie stood on the fucking precipice. Her spidey senses told her that if she leaped nothing in her world would ever be the same. If she turned back now her life would resume unchanged. Being a habitual creature who never deviated from patterns or set routines, she knew the choice she should've selected. However, the draw beyond the threshold appealed to her way more than the comfort of her normal resting state. She inhaled enough oxygen for two and stepped inside before she had the chance to second guess her sanity.

Once inside the doors automatically closed behind her. Bonnie barely took notice. The spacious ornate foyer held her focus. Truth was, she didn't know what the hell to ogle first. From the massive crystal chandelier suspended at least sixty feet off the ground to the floor to ceiling marbled columns, everything vied for her absolute attention.

She couldn't believe people actually lounged in such a cushy lap of luxury. She'd never seen anything so...lavish. Not even Zach Salvatore's Boarding House could hold a blow torch to the Mikaelson Estate and his mansion was believed to be the nicest in town. That's if one didn't count the Lockwood Plantation. And she didn't. The slave quarters the Lockwood's still maintained on their property snatched them right out of the running.

The fine hair stood on the back of her neck as goose bumps pebbled the skin on her arms. She was being watched. Of course she was being watched. Whoever maintained the place alongside the caretaker probably wanted to make sure a few priceless knick-knacks didn't find its way into her pockets.

"Hello," A feminine voice greeted her from behind.

She limped around to face the owner of the voice. A sophisticated middle age lady stood before her looking like she'd just taken a bath in one percent privilege. The ends of her silky blond hair fell a couple of inches below her jawline in a professionally tapered bob to frame a passingly attractive oval shaped face. Tasteful, but expensive jewelry twinkled from her ears, wrist, and neck. The low-key touch brought a little more glamour to the understated white sundress she wore. After a head to toe assessment, she concluded there was no way in hell this woman was the housekeeper.

Bonnie cleared her throat. "Hey, I'm Bonnie Bennett." The woman's assessing blue gaze slightly flared with recognition. "I wrecked my bike a couple of hundred yards back on Wickery Bridge and totaled my fucking pager." Shit! Another five dollars for the swear jar. She squeezed her eyes closed. "Sorry, didn't mean to swear," she mumbled before retraining her gaze on the older lady who looked more amused than offended. "But in my defense this day has been a total shi-..." she shook her head, "never mind. Would it be okay if I used your phone?"

"Absolutely, Miss Bennett," the woman said, while strolling further into the foyer. "And before I misremember my manners allow me to introduce myself. I'm Esther Mikaelson."

Surprise stretched Bonnie's eyes wide. No fucking way! Wait until the founding families got an ear full of this news. Carol Lockwood would no doubt wet her panties when she heard the Mikaelsons had come to town. She mentally shook her head as she limped forward to grasp Mrs. Mikaelson extended hand.

The corners of the woman's mouth travelled south under the weight of a frown as she gazed down at Bonnie's sneakers. "Were you harmed?" Mrs. Mikaelson questioned as her intense stare reestablished eye contact between them.

"Think I sprained my ankle," she said, while lifting her injured limb. "I'm sure it'll be fine once I get some ice on it, though."

Esther's brow puckered. "Finn!"

"Yes, mother?" A tall—totally fuckable—man appeared from behind the same door Esther exited.

"Miss Bennett-,"

"Miss Bennett?" He questioned with an arched brow.

"Yes...Miss Bennett, this is my eldest son Finn," she shot the man a pointed glare before continuing. "Miss Bennett has unfortunately injured herself during a biking expedition. Would you do a great kindness and carry her to the beige and gold sitting room?"

"That's not necessary. I can walk-,"  

"Of course, mother," he said, before turning to approach her. The atmosphere around him crackled. Waves of intoxicating energy seeped from him and tentatively swirled around her, all while taking care not to make contact. The temperature of her body crept north. When he towered over her, he paused, "May I, Miss Bennett?"

"Really, it's not-,"

Without giving her time to finish her sentence, he lifted her into his arms as if she weighed nothing more than an arm full of feathered pillows. He then swiftly made his way deeper into the mansion. After a few minutes of sprinting, he stopped in front of a set of closed doors. An array of voices drifted to them from inside the room. Finn took a step back to allow Esther to enter ahead of them.

Upon the opening of the door, a wall of highly charged energy slammed into her and lit her the fuck up. Her body temperature sky rocketed and leaped off the damn meter as if she'd been tossed into a hell blaze. Combined magnetic forces pricked at the exposed surface of her skin. She became extremely cognizant of Finn's hard frame firmly pressed against her side. A fantasy of her running her hands over hills of rigid muscles while he stood before her in all his bare ass glory, blasted away her conscious regard for shame. Without out grazing two thoughts together, she began to rub her cheek back and forth over his pec. The growl her actions elicited provoked her nipples to tighten almost to the point of being painful.

"Well, well! Look what the Finn managed to drag in, Bekah," a boy with precision cut sable tresses snarked from his place in one of the armchairs positioned in front of the fire place. He watched her with unblinking chocolate brown eyes that was downright predatory in nature. His calculated serial killer stare should've scared her crapless. Yet, all she could manage to think was...hmm, dessert! "Do say you're intending to share, brother." Finn's hold tightened around her.

"Curb your vile tongue, Kol. Miss Bennett is a guest in our home and you would do well to honor her as such." Esther hissed as she impaled him with a glare that would've made Satan piss his pants.

Guest? She just wanted to use the damn phone.

"Bennett?" A jaw dropping blond bombshell questioned from a satin bronzed sofa.

Finn gently placed her on the opposing loveseat. "Yes, Rebekah. This is Miss Bonnie Bennett." His slightly timid gaze found hers as he positioned a pillow under her ankle. "Miss Bennett, these are my siblings Kol and Rebekah."

Faster than her eyes could track, Rebekah shot from the sofa and reappeared again as she placed Bonnie's ankle in her lap.

"Fucking, fuckery, fuck! Am I having a stroke or did you just imitate a fucking Lambo?" Shit, another twenty for the swear jar.

Rebekah's mouth fell open and a chortle tumbled forth. Finn tsked his expression absolutely scandalized. Esther's eyebrows leaped into her hairline and Kol...wait...where the hell was Kol? Moments later she was lifted from the loveseat cushion and resettled in a hard bulging lap. Cool lips nuzzled the crook of her neck as something steamy floated from a tea cup that hovered in front of her face.

"Sweetness, your wicked terminology enflames me. Curiously, I find myself longing for the affordable affections of an all too willing dockside harlot," Kol whispered next to her ear. "Here, have some tea while it's still warm. It'll do wonders for your injured ankle."

With no further warning, Kol placed the tea cup to her lips and spilled the contents down her throat. To prevent herself from, choking she swallowed the metallic tasting tea. As she drank her thoughts spun the hell out in her head. How the...where the...something was extremely twisted about the Mikaelsons. Strength, beauty, and speed. She felt as if someone had dropped her off in a damn Twilight flick. Had she been one of those drugged out hippy, dippy, students Grams used to invite over for dinner, she'd truly believe herself to be in a house overran with vampires.

"Mother, will you not correct Kol on his forwardness in regards to Miss Bennett," Finn demanded, while attempting to commit visual homicide on his younger brother.

"Kol," Esther spit, her tone warning.

The caretaker appeared in the open doorway of the room. "Lady Mikaelson, Lord Niklaus wishes you attend him on the telephone."

Telephone? That's what the hell she needed!

"Excuse, Miss Bennett. I won't be but a moment," she rose from seat next to a large paned window. "I'll receive the call in my study Hannibal." She sashayed from the room and the door softly clicked closed after her.

"Oh, brother of mine. Celeste has yet to launder our unmentionables." Kol paused to blow a stream of cool air in her ear. The walls of her pop rocker quavered. "Why not preoccupy yourself with sniffing mother's soiled knickers. Your absence will allow Bonnie and me an opportunity to become better acquainted."

After she finished drinking the tea, Kol pushed the cup and saucer into Finn's hands. She opened her mouth to bless him with some more of her, wicked terminology, when she noticed the throbbing in her ankle stopped.

Flexing her ankle back and forth, she side eyed Kol. "What the hell was in that tea?"

"Family recipe," he said with wide guiltless doe eyes. He, however, looked about as innocent as a wolf covered in blood and feathers.

Rebekah snorted as she stroked her now apparently uninjured ankle. The vibrations which pulsed from the tips of her fingers triggered her to squeeze her thighs together to assuage a whole other throbbing. When the youngest Mikaelson licked her painted rosy lips, liquid heat flooded Bonnie's center. What the fuck? When had girls ever done it for her? Not that a boy had ever done it to her, but still. All her crushes over the last few years were geared towards the opposite sex. She'd never thought about a girl in such a way.

Uncomfortable in her own damn skin, Bonnie hopped from Kol's lap to put distance between her and the Mikaelson siblings. "Look, I just needed to use the phone. But since my ankle is-,"

"Brilliant." Rebekah climbed to her feet and grabbed her wrist. She then dragged her towards the door. "You can use the one in my room." When Kol moved to follow, Rebekah speared him with an over the shoulder glare, before saying, "no boys allowed!"

                                      ****

Rebekah covertly watched Bonnie Bennett through her lashes as she painted the tiny witch's toes. Nik's spies in Mystic Falls hadn't exaggerated. She was exquisite. Her smooth bronzed brown skin appeared to be quite edible. The way it stretched uninterrupted over her hills, peaks, valleys, and dips, compelled her tongue to glide back and forth across her bottom lip. She couldn't refrain herself from imagining the lovely dove stripped bare and reclining in the center of her bed with her luxurious chocolate tresses fanned out about her head. Quite the fetching sight she'd make to be sure.

Vanilla, coconuts, and the sensually mouthwatering scent of arousal tempted Rebekah's nostrils. Her core clenched as a hint of a smile flirted with her lips. It pleased her to know the witch struggled with her lust as well. The proof saturated the air with her delectable fragrance. The sweet attar, teasingly baited and ensnared them. Even now Kol stood vigil outside her bedroom door. While Finn had abandoned his perpetual crusade of self-loathing to recite aloud, Napoleon's love letters to Josephine. In verity, they'd all become rather batty for Bonnie.

If the witch caused this big of an uproar in the house of Mikaelson before the manifestation of her powers, they would all be raving lunatics after her quickening.

"What'd you think, Dove? Do you fancy them?" Rebekah questioned, while tightening the top on the nail polish.

The witch's enthralling green eyes slightly narrowed as she peered down at her toes. "Um...they're really red."

Rebekah rolled her eyes as she placed the fingernail polish back on the night stand. "How perceptive of you, Miss Bennett," she said, allowing sarcasm to thread itself through her tone. "Do you have the inclination to inform me on the blondness of my hair as well?"

"Whoa, there's no need to take the leash off the bitch. All I'm saying is-,"

"Hmm..." The witch's sentence skidded to a halt when the blonde original began to massage her shapely calves. "What were you saying, Dove?"

"I..." the little beauty paused to swallow. "Didn't mean to offend you."

"Oh..." she murmured, while she allowed her fingers to inch up Bonnie's jean clad thigh. "Well, I'm relieved. The task of pleasing you is extremely important to me." The heel of her palm connected with the lovely dove's crotch.

A breathy moan crept from the split of the witch's lips. "Rebekah, I'm not into...ahh...ooh..." Bonnie whimpered as the youngest original began to grind her hand into her witch's denim clad mound.

"Shh, Dove," she whispered, while urging the witch to lie back on the pillow-top mattress. "It's just us girls..."

Rebekah moved to straddle Bonnie's lap. She then leaned forward and brushed her mouth against the witch's to gauge how receptive she'd be to a kiss. The Bennett witch's arms slithered around her neck and drew her closer. Once Rebekah's mouth loomed over hers, she lifted her head from the mattress to close the distance. Since her lovely little dove initiated the kiss she allowed the tiny witch to take the lead. However, when it became blatantly apparent she'd never been properly snogged, the original reclaimed control.

With the tip of her tongue, she traced the seam of Bonnie's lips. A moment later the witch opened her mouth and granted her entrance. The sweet taste of her extracted a throaty moan from Rebekah and motivated her lower half to grind into Bonnie's. Pretty soon the witch's hips began to rise from the mattress to meet her wild writhing thrusts. Each of their whimpers and moans climbed in volume until their lips tingled and the press of their joined mouths could no longer suppress the sounds.

[sitabethel]

*rolls across floor* it's my work break, I just want to eat the fluffy waffle bits that come off of the side of the pizzelle cookies but that's a Bad. We make lemon cookies, and TKB deserves a lemon where he bosses Atem around to balance all this top!atem. Normally I'm team Bottom!Kura but Thief has too much swag for this.

What was that? Dumb casteshipping coffee shop au with top!TKB? Okay

damn thing won't let me add tags (thanks mobile app), but it's nsfw

***

“Cookies smell ready. Take them out of the oven.”  Bakura sat on an upturned milk crate near the floor and played Pokémon on his phone.

“The timer hasn’t gone off get.” Atem sat on the stainless steel prep table like it was a throne. He shuffled a deck of Duel Monster cards and started flipping them over to see how balanced his new deck was.

“Who cares? They’re done.”

“They’re not done because the timer hasn’t gone off.

“You can’t always trust the rules, Atem. I’m telling you- they’re done.”

“Then get up off of your own ass and get them yourself. You’re not my boss.” Atem frowned at his hand, discarded it, and drew several more cards.

“I’m busy.”

“You’re on your phone.”

“You’re playing with cards.”

“So what?” Atem shrugged. “I’ll get them when the timer goes off.”

“Dumbass, now they’re burning.” Bakura growled, shoved the phone in his pocket, and pushed himself to his feet.

“But the timer-”

“I swear to God, Atem, say timer one more time and I will shove it so far up your asshole that your boyfriend will get jealous.” Bakura pulled open the oven, brushing away the first developing wisps of smoke and frowning. “I fucking *hate* the smell of burnt shit. I fucking hate it! Look at this shit! The edges are all dark brown and ugly- I told you they were done.”

“Who cares about dark edges.” Atem dropped his cards on the table, face pulled into a sad expression that didn’t quite fit the situation.

“They’re lemon cookies. They need to look fluffy and yellow, not all brown and crusty like your feet.”

“Lay off me, Bakura.” Atem jumped to the floor. The table wasn’t that high, but Atem was short enough that it was an event to get up or down.

“What the hell is your problem today?” Bakura shoved the pan on the rack for cooling and turned off of the oven. He turned towards Atem, his frown causing the scar on his face to slice crookedly on his face.

“I got dumped, okay?” Atem stared at floor.

“Weren’t you two soulmates or some shit like that?” Bakura snorted as he used a pocket knife to wedge a cookie off of the sheet and bite into it. “They taste okay, but they still look like shit.”

“I thought we were.” Atem hugged himself and leaned against the prep table. “I really did. That’s why … I still don’t understand. He just left me. He said I sat around and played games too much. Okay? But, like tell me and give me a chance to change before you dump me?”

“Fuck that. You don’t play too much. It’s not like that little bitch was a WOW widow or anything.” Bakura shoved his hands into his apron pocket, rocking back and forth on his heels. “Sucks man. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t patronize me.” Atem grit his teeth, turning towards the sink. “Whatever. Let’s just get out of here. I want to go home and crawl into bed.”

“Nah man, fuck that. You’re single. It’s Saturday night. You should do something better than go to bed. Fuck your ex, don’t mope over him.”

Atem ignored Bakura as he filled the sink with hot water and started to wash coffee pots and cookie sheets. The café was small and on the wrong side of town, away from the college crowds. They hadn’t had a customer for forty-five minutes and probably wouldn’t get another one until they closed.

“Atem~” Bakura sang, slinging an arm around Atem’s shoulder.

“Look, just let it go, okay? I don’t need another game-playing loser trying to cheer me up for being a game-playing loser. That’s like a wino telling an alcoholic that he doesn’t drink too much.”

“You know what you should do. You should come back to my place and…” Bakura pressed his lips close to Atem’s ear, whispering in his lowest, most seductive bedroom voice, “play even more games.”

“That’s the last thing I should do.” Atem nudged Bakura away. He glanced at the cards scattered across the prep table. “Think if I dump them all in the sink and ruin them, that maybe he’ll give me a second chance?”

“What?” Bakura shouted. “Mother fucker, please. First of all- give them to me, you have some bad ass cards- and second- fuck your ex! Nothing is wrong with you. I mean, okay, you’re a smug fucking bastard and I want to punch you in the face half the time we work together, but you don’t play any more games than the rest of us.”

“But…” Atem pressed his face against Bakura’s chest. “He left me.”

“Shit man, he’s probably fucking a girl on the side or something. The card games were a cheap ass excuse. C'mon. Let’s close up early and get the fuck out of here.”

“We have ten minutes left,” Atem said.

“I won’t tell if you won’t.” Bakura grabbed a bag and started shoving cookies into it.

“Bakura? What the hell are you doing?”

“Well, can’t sell ‘em like this, so I’m going to mark them as waste and take them home.”

“That’s stealing!”

“And throwing them in the trash is a fucking sin against hungry children.” Bakura waved his bag of loot. “My place. Cookies and card games.”

“We’re going to get fired.” Atem sighed. “Whatever. I’m too depressed to care.”

They closed up the café early and walked to Bakura’s car. He drove them back to his apartment and piled the cookies on a paper plate, setting them down on a water-stained coffee table.

“Let me get my deck.” Bakura went to his room and changed into a pair of navy sleep shorts before grabbing his cards.

“Okay, just prance around half naked. Damn.” Atem glared at Bakura when he came back.

“Fuck, you’re such a prude.”

“I’m not. You’re just half naked.”

“Well, I have extra shorts if you’re jealous.”

“Oh goody.” Atem rolled his eyes. “A slumber party.”

“Shut up and cut my deck.” Bakura slammed his cards on the table.

They played a quick game. Bakura got out every letter he needed for his Destiny Board in order to win. Atem slumped into the cushions and sighed.

“See? I’m a loser.”

“Atem, how many times have you kicked my ass at work?” Bakura rolled his eyes. “You’re distracted because you’re thinking about that jackass. Shuffled your cards and play again like a real duelist.”

“What’s the point?” Atem reached over and grabbed two cookies, double fisting bites to his mouth.

“The point is break-ups happen and then you get on with your life.”

“Easy for you to say. No one ever dumps you.”

“No one ever dates me.” Bakura grinned as he stole a cookie from the plate. “I’m too much of an asshole to ever get a second date.”

“That’s because you’re a card game-playing loser.” Atem spoke with a mouth full of cookie.

“Don’t fucking project your insecurities on me. I like my life.”

“You work in a fucking coffee shop.”

“Excuse me, your majesty, I didn’t realize that lowly peasant work was too good for someone of your skill set. Oh wait, you work in a fucking coffee shop too, nevermind.”

“Yeah, and I’m a loser. That’s my point.”

“Whatever.” Bakura got up and disappeared. He came back and threw sleep clothes, a pillow, and a light blanket on top of Atem. “I’m sick of your emo bullshit. I’m going to sleep if you’re not going to play.”

Atem pushed the pillow off his face. “Is this you trying to get me to spend the night?”

“Fucking couch is free, but you can call an Uber if you want to go home. I’m not driving your morose ass anywhere tonight.”

With that, Bakura went to his own room. In the morning, he saw Atem sitting on the couch with his feet on the table and eating a bowl of Lucky Charms.

“Morning, bitch.” Bakura yawned and crashed beside him, grabbing the plate of cookies and resting it on his stomach.

“That’s not breakfast, Bakura.”

“It’s the goddamn breakfast of champions, what are you talking about?” Bakura crammed an entire lemon cookie into his mouth to prove his fucking point.

“Do you work tonight?” Atem asked.

“I’m the half-shift bitch tonight.”

“Want to swap? I close.”

“Are you going to go home and cry into your pillow?”

“No,” Atem said, then added. “Maybe.”

“Dammit, fine then. We can swap. I need the hours, I guess.”

“Thanks, Bakura.”

“Don’t thank me. You owe me next time I want to switch shifts.”

“I mean thanks for everything.”

“I guess I should wash our uniforms before we go in.” Bakura stood up and gathered up their clothes.

The next week went by smoothly for them, and by the next weekend Bakura and Atem found themselves back at Bakura’s place playing Duel Monsters. This time they played three games- Bakura won two and lost one. Atem grumbled, but he no longer referred to himself as a loser, so Bakura didn’t rib Atem too hard for the complaints.

The next week was the same routine. Working, school work, longer shifts on the weekend, but by Saturday they were back at Bakura’s playing card games. Atem won two and lost one.

“You’re getting back into your stride,” Bakura said as he gave the score sheet a death stare.

“Yeah, can’t say I’m over the break-up, but I’m over the woe-is-me phase of it at least.”

“Good.” Bakura gave Atem a snort. “You were acting like a total bitch.”

“Shut up.” Atem gave him a playful slap on the shoulder. They laughed a moment and then a heavy silence stretched over the room.

“Uh…” Bakura scratched the back of his head.

“W-want to do something else?” Atem asked. “Have any good movies?”

“I’m kinda a weeb,” Bakura confessed. “Most my shit is anime.”

“Well? Let’s watch something. I’m not tired yet.”

“Sure. Guess we’ll start with Dragon Ball. That’s a classic.”

They marathoned episodes until the first world tournament. As the show progressed, Bakura started becoming unusually aware of how close he and Atem sat. They’d always kept some distance during the card games, but now their shoulders brushed together and it was… strange. By sunrise, Bakura stumbled to his feet, stretching and yawning.

“Better get some sleep before work.”

He started to keep the blanket and pillow on the couch, and Atem had brought his own change of clothes, so Bakura went to sleep without further fanfare. That night at work, they were able to stagger their lunch breaks to have a fifteen minute overlap and tried to sneak a card game in- although it made Bakura late back from his lunch.

“Looks like I won.” Atem smirked.

“Fuck off, I have to go back before I get bitched at.”

“You close tonight, right?” Atem asked.

“Yeah.”

“Me too.”

“So?”

Atem traced a design on the little table they had in the back instead of a real break room.

“Um, well, I thought maybe I could come over again? Watch more Dragon Ball?”

“Sure.” Bakura shrugged. “But I have Lit at 8am Monday mornings, so I can’t stay up all night like last time.”

“Oh, need help with your homework or anything?”

“Bitch, I ain’t illiterate.” Bakura snorted in mock offense.

“Bitch, you sound illiterate,” Atem snapped back.

That night, as they watched TV together, Bakura was again acutely aware at their proximity. The next thing he knew, he felt hands shaking him awake.

“Bakura. Bakura, wake-up. Bakura, it’s 7am, get your lazy ass to class.”

“What?” Bakura rubbed his eyes, confused. He didn’t remember falling asleep, but his neck complained as if he’d been on the sofa all night.

“It’s morning. Go to class.”

“Fuck.” Bakura crawled into jeans and the first T-shirt he grabbed.

“Eat something,” Atem said.

“You ain’t my mom.” Bakura grabbed a Red Bull and tossed Atem his extra key. “Lock up before you leave.”

“Can I watch a few more episodes? Krillin died.”

“Knock yourself out.” Bakura waved as he took off to class.

He half expected Atem to be there when he returned, but the apartment was empty. Bakura stared at the couch, still trying to remember falling asleep. Had Atem stayed on the sofa with him the entire night? Bakura sniffed and went to take a shower before work.

He’d almost been… looking forward to it? He and Atem used to fight more than their fair share as co-workers. Atem followed every damn little rule and it drove Bakura nuts, but hey, Dragon Ball and stolen cookies and card games weren’t so bad with someone to chat with, so Bakura was looking forward to talking to Atem at work that night.

However, once he actually arrived, Atem seemed to be in a bad mood. He barked orders, snapped at everything Bakura did, and bitched him out for adding whipped cream to a drink that was no-whip. Maybe Bakura would have let it slide, but it was in front of the customers and Bakura was pissed off.

“What’s your problem?” Bakura hissed once their evening rush died down.

“You keep messing up. It’s slowing us down.”

“I’m messing up cuz you’re riding my ass, Atem.”

“Don’t blame me because you’re screwing up.”

“Fuck you.” Bakura stormed off, cleaning the lobby as an excuse to keep away from Atem.

He thought maybe they’d simmer down after the one bad night, but each night after that seemed worse than the one before. Saturday came and went, and neither Bakura nor Atem mentioned card games or anime and they drove home in separate cars.

For a full other week they were at each other’s throats. Finally, Bakura couldn’t take it anymore. He made sure their breaks overlapped again, and cornered Atem in the back.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Atem snorted and turned his head away from Bakura.

“You’ve had a beehive up your ass for over two weeks now. What’s up?”

“Why is everything always asses with you?”

“I like asses.” Bakura grinned.

“Well, kiss mine, then, and let me get back to my lunch break.”

“Not until I figure out what’s been riding you.”

“Stop with the innuendos, Bakura. They’re not funny.”

“I’m not making innuendos. You’re over analyzing what I’m saying.”

“You’re blaming me for everything!” Atem shouted.

“Everything?” Bakura raised a silver eyebrow. “Like, climate change, and orphans, and traffic jams? Or just your attitude problem?”

“I don’t have an attitude problem.”

“You’re acting weird as fuck, Atem.”

“Well.” Atem snorted, stepping into Bakura’s space. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“The hell? I’m not doing a damn thing!”

Next thing Bakura knew, Atem had him slammed against a shelf full of coffee beans. He braced himself for a punch, but felt Atem’s mouth smashing against his instead. Bakura hooked his fingers through Atem’s wild, multi-colored hair, but after finishing the kiss, he pushed them apart.

“Have you seriously been nagging me because you’re frustrated?” Bakura started laughing.

“Shut-up.” Atem’s complexion was dark, but just light enough that a bit of his blush showed through on his almond-colored cheeks.

“Tell you what.” Bakura untangled his fingers from Atem’s hair and instead grabbed Atem’s ass, pulling their bodies together. “Come over tonight and I can take care of that for you.”

“I-I have to go back to work.”

Bakura let Atem go, wondering if perhaps he had been too bold. The rest of the night was quiet and awkward, but after close Atem walked straight to Bakura car, glancing over his shoulder and giving Bakura a sly wink.

Bakura exhaled. One the one hand, he wanted to slap Atem for being so damn difficult, but on the other, his entire body was hot and eager at the thought of getting Atem between the sheets.

He drove fast, and he and Atem raced back to Bakura’s apartment. Bakura shoved Atem towards the bedroom, and then pushed Atem down onto the mattress. He tore his work clothes off and then helped Atem do the same.

Their mouths clashed together. They were too eager and making out with Atem was more an argument of lip placement than a romantic gesture. Bakura wasn’t going to complain, however. It was his first time, and it was fun, and his cock was throbbing so he scrambled across the bed to the nightstand where he kept a bottle of lube.

“Thought you never made it to a second date?” Atem chuckled. “So why do you have anal lube?”

“Because I jerk off.” Bakura winked.

“Yeah, I’ve been doing a lot of that, lately.” Atem snorted. “Please hurry.”

“Holy shit, his majesty said please. What an auspicious day.” Bakura greased up Atem’s asshole and​ popped a finger in right away.

“It’s been too long.” Atem moaned, tossing his head back. “Don’t take too long prepping.”

“You know I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, right?” Bakura laughed and added a second finger.

“Feels like you do,” Atem purred. Then his violet eyes grew round. “Wait, are you saying you’re a virgin?”

“Duh.” Bakura pulled his fingers away and coated his cock. “I already told you I don’t get along with people.”

“But… hook ups, and, and FWB’s?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t have friends- with benefits or otherwise.”

“Damn, Bakura, you’re pathetic!”

“Really turning me on here.” Bakura glared at Atem.

“Sorry.” Atem shrugged.

Bakura blew out between his lips. “Who am I kidding? I’m hard as fuck right now.”

He maneuvered in between Atem’s legs and guided his cock to Atem’s asshole. He tried easing in, but couldn’t manage to get through until he used his hips to thrust forward. Atem sucked in a quick breath. Bakura looked at his face, trying to decide if it’d been pain or pleasure. Atem looked heated and his eyes were unfocused. Bakura figured it couldn’t be that bad with that hazy look on Atem’s face, so he eased up and pushed in again.

Atem whimpered with each thrust, but didn’t complain. Bakura watched his face. He thought Atem looked aroused, but wasn’t sure.

“Is this okay? Should I slow down?”

“S'good. Speed up.” Atem moaned. Bakura hitched his hips a little faster. Atem’s fingers clutched at the sheets and he tilted his head back.

“Better?” Bakura asked.

“Fuck yes. You’re… thicker. I like it.”

Bakura’s cheeks grew suddenly hot. The complement spurred him to thrust harder, letting himself relax a little and enjoy the tight suck of Atem’s flesh around his cock.

He leaned down and kissed Atem’s neck. Atem wrapped his left leg around Bakura’s waist. Bakura grabbed it and hooked it over his shoulder so he could get a better angle.

“Fuck! Fuck! Holy shit, Bakura!” Atem started screaming.

“Does it hurt?” Bakura slowed down.

“Don’t stop!” Atem screamed louder. “Harder! Please, God please! Please!”

A spasm tightened every muscle in Bakura’s body. He steadied his breath and focused on Atem’s face, trying not to think about how good each thrust felt. He didn’t know how much longer he’d last. Bakura closed his eyes and tried to focus on the feel of the sheets against his knees and not Atem’s body.

He went as fast as he could, going until sweat carved little trails down his brown-sugar colored skin. No matter how hard he tried to hold back, Atem’s curses and shouts were enough to make him want come.

Bakura’s silvery lashes fluttered as he opened his eyes. He saw Atem stroking himself and couldn’t last a second longer. Bakura rocked back and forth, leaning over Atem and staring at Atem’s face as he poured out into Atem’s ass. All the strength leached from Bakura’s body, but he forced himself to continue to move as Atem pulled on his own cock. Atem squealed and several bursts of come splashed against his tawny stomach.

“Holy shit,” Atem sighed. “That was good.”

“Hmmm.” Bakura grunted, collapsing beside Atem. His eyes lowered. He tried to keep them open, but he felt lost to the urge to sleep.

“A few weeks ago, you fell asleep on my shoulder,” Atem stared at the ceiling.

“Sorry,” Bakura muttered, still hazy and pleasant feeling from his orgasm.

“I started to comb your hair with my fingers, and you made this soft little coo sounds and then nuzzled against my chest and it was… so nice. It was so nice that I wrapped my arms around you and held you. I wanted to kiss you, and it scared me, so I waited until it was time to wake you up, finished the rest of Dragon Ball, and tried to ‘get over it,’ but the more I tried to push you away, the more I thought about you.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I couldn’t help it. I was afraid that if we got close you’d leave me… yeah, I know that’s stupid.”

“No, I mean you’re an idiot for thinking that you’re done with Dragon Ball. We haven’t even started Dragon Ball Z yet.”

“Z?”

“Fuck, lemme sleep a bit, yeah? You’re about to learn all about Super Saiyans.” Bakura intentionally moved to Atem’s chest and used him as a pillow.

“Bakura…”

“If you’re still worried, you know I think you being a card-game playing nerd is your only good quality, right? I’m not going to dump you for that. Maybe for being a smug-self absorbed bitch, but not for being a nerd.”

“You goddamn bastard.” Atem sounded happy despite his word choice.

“You can comb my hair with your fingers if you want to.” Bakura grinned.

“Quit bossing me around,” Atem said, but he did comb Bakura’s hair.

It was a nicer feeling than Bakura would have guessed, and so was laying on Atem’s chest. He’d never been with anyone before, but he figured that, like sex, he’d just fumble his way through, and hopefully they’d move through it right until the end.

[replicarters]

hellraiser 3 funtime carnival, final

part 1 || part 2

happy easter! let's welcome it with BLOOD

the good thing about last time is that it was very gay. the bad thing about last time is that we've established the villain can and will tear the entirety of people's skin from their bodies, and then consume them as dinner. but this movie is a gay love story now, and god willing, there will be no dead lesbians by the end of it. there will be a lot of other dead people, sure. but hopefully no dead lesbians.

okay joey's girlfriend is officially in the hands of pj or jp or whatever the fuck this total douche's name was.

and he is very, very eager to get her eaten by his new carniverous friend

but before that, we have to jump back to dream vietnam, just the place everybody wants to be.

except now there's someone else here with an Accent and he's all "joeyyyyy wassup girl". oh my gosh who could it be!

tons of soldiers blow up and die and joey wakes up screaming

now let me tell you a movie that scares the bajeezus out of me: it's poltergeist. i don't think this movie will become that so i'll just take this shot at face value.

okay except for that it's like... making scary noises. you remember the episode of x-files where scully heard voices in the tv and unscrewed all her light bulbs? it's those noises, but much more loud and scratchy and unnerving.

motherfucker, get out of there! i'm going to set this television on fire.

he says YOU HAVE TO HELP ME and then goes away again. help you with what? consuming kid cuisines where the chicken nuggets are made out of human thigh meat?

jp is in here DRIVING A WEDGE BETWEEN GAY LOVE talking smack about joey while terri cries. god i hope jp gets eaten at the end i hope it so bad.

oh but wait! terri suddenly exclaims "SHE WOULDN'T" while she sobs, and blames herself for things that haven't even happened. honey :( joey hasn't gone anywhere and she's going to come and save you THIS I BELIEVE.

"come hug me baby, but do it over here next to the statue."

"mmmm come hug me over here"

"no baby hugs are way better next to grotesque works of art~"

oh no and then he says "come to daddy" shlfkhld NO

oh no oh no terri gets up!! no!! i bite my nails that i painstakingly regrew this past week.

AHHH HE'S AWAKE AND HE HUNGERS. at the very last second terri decides she doesn't want to do a hug, but jp grabs her by her very sparkly shirt and pinhead opens wide for another nutritious meal.

then terri breaks out brass fucking knuckles oh hell yeah girl, and she socks jp right in his smug, awful, ugly face

terri runs to the door but pinhead yells WWWAAAAIIITTTT. "why run away~?" he says. you can come live in my stone stomach with all the other people i've eaten. it's cool. it's progressive. it's modern art.

lmao oh my god, then pinhead, ever the hungry man, offers terri the chance to off jp in exchange for ~dreams~.

i mean, she's considering it, and i would too if all i had to do to unlock a world of dreams was toss some loser into a living pincushion's gaping maw.

well, he's a little heavy. where are those convenient chains right about now?

oh, there they are. holy shit, though, terri really went for it.

bye byeeeeeee! i didn't even have to wait until the end of the movie for jp's demise! this is AWESOME.

jp doesn't get eaten so much as he gets, like, giant nails driven through his head or something, and then pinhead yells a lot and the statue gets all crusty with bloooood.

oh and then it... pees? i don't know what's going on, some goop comes out of nowhere and dribbles all over.

ooh, that's... euugh...

gross flesh bombs just... explode from it. just gunk dropping off of it all over the place, smoking piles of gunk. it's icky.

oh that's... that's not good...

"terri. we are going to open the local spirit halloween store together... 6 months early!!!"

poor joey isn't getting any sleep, there's old-timey music coming from somewhere and all the lights are doing weird glows. also this apartment is fucking sweet as hell, how does she live here.

she opens a glowing closet, which, she has balls of steel to be doing that. but i guess if all your shit is glowing in your house at 3 am and you have 40s on 4 playing out of nowhere, you'd probably want to see what was up.

there really was a literal radio just sitting in the closet. so she takes it out and puts it on a table.

she turns some dials on it and then mr. video starts telling her to do stuff, noooooope buddy i need to know your motivations my dude, i need to know what you're all about.

maybe don't follow directions from mr. video/radio/dreamland. he tells her to go to the window which i guess is fine enough? but what's she gonna see out there... nnnn....

okay, this guy's just out here chilling. who are you now???

it's no problem for joey "balls of steel" summerskill, who is going for it. all in, baby! literally all in, her whole body in, to... the... window.

she ends up on the other side of this darksided cs lewis wardrobe intact.

look at this princess serenity dress she wears to bed every night, love it.

"who the fuck are you and why won't you let me sleep"

"hold up... gotta stare at the cube." this guy has the same hairline recession as michael eddington.

"i just walked into madness for you!" that's really what she says and i'm tickled by it. girl knows what fuck is up. it's all insane. least this guy can do is pay attention!

uh oh what's this now, what's this indiana jonesing over here.

joey goes for it, because she's a very brave girl, and now it's vietnam time again.

"joey, how kind of you to come." literally her alternative was watching you stare at the cube. you better start explaining some shit!

well he doesn't start explaining anything, just slinks away behind the ridge. joey follows him, looking at all the nasty soldier corpses.

"you have to help me; i don't understand." ME! i don't get any of this. dump some info on me, mr. video!

"you have to help me," mr. video says. buddy, you better be, like, the misplaced sealant on pinhead, otherwise i'm out.

he takes off his hat and he says his name Was elliot spencer.

AND THEN JOEY INTRODUCES HERSELF AND SHAKES HIS HAND i'm laughing. TOO PURE. "hi dead man who won't leave me alone nice to meet you."

he says she's brave, which is true! and says "you've probably never shaken hands with a ghost before." i mean PROBABLY NOT.

well she says "ummm captain spencer, what the hell is going on???"

"hell is exactly what is going on." ahhhhh. because it's been raised! we hell now.

they set off for a walk, a nice stroll through what spencer the ghost says is the limbo between heaven and hell. he says he can't do squat in the real world, but joey can.

"there is a monster out there, joey, and it's me." eeeeep.

anyway so he's pinhead because war is hell, and he originally opened the box and got mad chainz, yo. stopping him will require "great courage".

joey doesn't know if she has that, but spencer is like, "girl, you just walked through a goddamn solid window to talk to me, you're fine."

the cube is the gateway to hell and pinhead wants it, and spencer says joey has to let him come for it. aw helllllllllll no! eff that, why can't she just drop the cube in a volcano or something?

"but what if he takes the box from me before i can-"

"he can't take it, it must be given to him." oh dear so he's going to try to persuade her to give him the box. PERSUADE HER LIKE HE PERSUADED TERRI TO LET HIM EAT JP? just great. i have large worries.

let's have a little party pitstop.

my favorite baby is here, and it sTARTS MOVING AHHHHHHHHHHH HELL N O

OH GOD EVERYTHING IS MOVING

and then there's an explosion

and H E  C O M E S

everybody goes screaming and running and chains start flying. a guy gets his hand cut and his palm spurts blood LIKE A FOUNTAIN just like i've been expecting this whole time. another guy gets a stick of wood through him.

this girl's drink comes to life and also she's still sitting at a table while the entire place is in a full-on panic.

the bubble becomes a pinhead head, which then becomes a huge dagger of ice that impales the girl in the mouth. i don't know, i'm laughing at that one. let this be a lesson to us all: if, while in a club, madness begins all around you, just run. leave your $12 drink. it's not worth it.

the sleazy bartender gets barb wired. a girl gets her face torn. pinhead cackles in the background.

here's my thing: how is joey going to fight all this shit? SHE'S JUST ONE PERSON and pinhead can do all this?! man... i have concerns...!

more killing! you know what's going to happen to the dj, don't you?

weeeeeeee! maiming!

pinhead starts locking doors. people start getting chains to their faces. and their necks. and through them, while other people get them through their faces behind them. just all-around a delight for everyone.

there's one last door that's not shut, but do you really think it's going to stay open?

NOPE! you're in pinhead's funhouse now!

and as the whipping of the chains grows louder, and the screaming dies down, blood flows out under the door.

literally. how is joey going to win this thing.

no sleep for joey as she wakes up, again, to news reports of a "catastrophe" at the boiler room. that sure is one way to put it. joey, poor sweet innocent brave joey, gets her ass dressed and calls grandpa cameraman.

oh boy. it's time. it's time for joey to bring the pain to a very bad man, armed with nothing but that box against his MYRIAD OF SPOOKY POWERS. I HAVE EXTREME CONCERNS! that's all i'm saying!

mmmmmm and the tv was unplugged the whole time. CONCERNS RATCHETING UP A FEW MORE LEVELS.

it's raining, it's pouring, that door up there's fuckin opening on its own. grandpa's car was outside but grandpa was not in the car oh god he is almost certainly mutilated by now.

and we got some folks HANGING AROUND............................

yeah there's bodies everywhere and joey's scared out of her mind. PROTECT THIS POOR BABY.

joey holds onto the cube for dear life, because SOME GHOST thought it was a GOOD IDEA to send a 27 year old mortal human in to fight a needle-faced hell man with NOTHING MORE THAN A BOX.

it's gross, she's crying, there are just... so many bodies. she's looking around trying to find grandpa, growing increasingly more distraught as she sees, you know, severed heads and stuff. lmao and there's one guy with about 15 billiard balls stuffed into his dead maw, which i found pretty comical.

welp joey, who is absolutely going to have nightmares for the rest of her living days, just screams out for grandpa, but i think she and i both know he's not going to answer. oh, grandpa, what horrible thing has happened to you?

joey goes farther in and some lights come on

another doorway beckons

and inside, it's like a banquet hall of... terribleness. i don't have any words left to describe all this, my goodness. and joey's still crying. i don't blame her. she came all the way the fuck in here instead of getting on the first plane to the other side of the world like i definitely would have, she deserves to let some tears out.

oh, and grandpa?

is very dead, with his head replaced by a camera.

ohhhhh everything is beyond misery

pinhead appears, waxing poetic, blah blah death and stuff. suffering. humanity's darkness, whatever.

TAKE HIM DOWN, GIRL. SEAL HIM UP.

"mmmm gimme my box kiddo"

naw she's not here for that, so pinhead starts yelling "DON'T DEBATE WITH ME, GIRL. JUST COME HERE AND DIE WHILE YOU STILL HAVE THE OPTION OF DOING IT QUICKLY."

"you're gonna have to come and get me, you ugly fuck." OHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

IT BEGINS

now with the knowledge that pinhead really can't touch that box unless he's given the box, joey takes off and almost gets run over by a cab outside.

cab hits a pole instead but listen, bud, your sacrifice is duly noted. hell's getting stopped tonight, bro! if you live, you'll get to see it!

then the pole falls over, knocks out all sorts of shit, and the cab lights on fire.

uh oh pinhead's doing pinhead stuff. WILL THE CUBE PROTECT AGAINST ELECTROCUTION?

oh my good god then pinhead sets off a fire hydrant and once the water is everywhere, where do you think he puts these nice cables?  C O N C E R N S

pinhead's impromptu death river comes barrelling down the street, but joey gets up on the sidewalk and the water sluices harmlessly by. phew.

except for now chains are coming out of the sewer. nnnnggggaaaahhhhh!! they do get her a little bit! me scream!

more stuff blows up! i'm very tense! joey keeps running. the sewer's blowing up, every electric thing is blowing up, THE MANHOLE LID comes spinning at joey's face but she dodges it. everywhere, EVERY LITERAL PLACE SHE GOES, stuff blows up and is on fire.

"what the fuuuuuuck where's the part where i get to go home and live a peaceful life"

"a peaceful life where all my friends are dead, and this place is fucked." hey... hey where's terri...? did... did she died...?

eeeep you're on pinhead camera! KEEP RUNNING

OH NO it's grandpa, and he's a weird camera borg now :(

oh joey honey i love you sweet girl please hang in there

"HAVE YOU SEEN WHAT HE DID TO ME, YOU LITTLE BITCH," not grandpa anymore roars. "HAVE YOU SEEN?"

then all the tvs blow up

then some guy???? who is just walking around out here????? joey runs into him and screams at him to run, but he's all, "hey baby where you going? everything's cool." oh YEAH, EVERYTHING'S REAL COOL.

so that guy dies when borg grandpa spears his eye camera through his head.

here comes pinhead, slinking out of the shadows.

just in case you forgot, this is the general state of things. not great. could be better.

oh there's more dead borg corpses walking around, too. that's a different one over there; it's cd head from the club.

L E T ' S   J A M   T O    T   S W I F T

when is enough enough, pinhead?!

it's never enough. guess what walks out of that explosion, it's another borg corpse.

whoaaaa and this one spits fire. SURELY PINHEAD HAS PROVEN HIS POINT BY NOW.

then the cops roll in, and joey again implores them to just fucking run. they don't.

one of the cops gets gasoline on him, and if you might recall (joey does), one of the dead borgs breathes fire.

joey wisely does not stick around for this, leaving the cops to their piping hot demise.

what now? now joey ducks into a church and just collapses. same.

you better be a priest, sir.

"father there's an awful lot of sinning going on outside, my only friend is a killer zombie, and new york is in general aflame."

this idiot priest tries to tell joey demons aren't real. haha! dude! you've missed several updates.

several. updates.

there he is, the man himself.

and then, oh my god, lol:

"then what the fuck is That." shdfklshlkfhs

leeeet's go if you don't want to die!

hey if you thought stuff was done exploding, you were wrong.

come on, that is ripe for becoming a deadly projectile.

or a melty mush. ooh, but a molten one. eugh, it couldn't just melt to melt, huh? had to be a scorching melt.

rarrrrgh i hate sunday school!

then listen, pinhead stands at the altar, ready to perform his own sacraments, which involve pulling a slug out of his head? and then putting the slug into his other hand (he's losing me here), then all the candles in the church start blowing up, then he pulls out another slug, puts that slug into the first hand, and then a wall starts cracking...

look, if i understood it, i'd let you know.

the rite of slug is now complete. whatever windows remained are, you guessed it, blown to kingdom come. then the altar crumbles, and for some reason, the priest thinks he's going to be a hero. no. wrong. pinhead pulls out slug number three, i think, i couldn't really tell. i think that's the only thing i could have been was another slug.

joey's over here rubiks cubing. there's not a great deal of time left in the movie, so, everybody cross your fingers some evil about to get sealed.

oh ew i think what pinhead pulled out was a flesh glob, and then he stuck it in the priests mouth, huge ick.

but joey gets the cube to go blue.

WHAT'S -UP- MOTHERFUCKER

joey taunts pinhead with the cube and bolts again. she makes it to the best place to be in the middle of a hell siege, which is a construction site. yes.

she immediately hears shit creaking around, because this will never be easy.

ohhhh good, it's more happy friends.

oh no no no and one of them... one of them...

IS TERRI!!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOO MY BEAUTIFUL LESBIAN LOVE STORY ;________; also note terri's direct line of smokes now.

"i can dream now, joey..." auuuuugh this wasn't the dream i wanted!

"terri..." her voice is so tiny and weak and defeated. i hate this, i hate this, HER ONLY OTHER FRIEND IN THIS WHOLE WORLD AND SHE'S A ZOMB.

well she tries to mess with the cube some more but borg jp and borg terri circle around her, beating her up. :(

and guess who arrives atop the hill, and threatens joey with "dark decades" of pain. oh golly.

more zombos come in.

"ahhh, more friends, come to play with you, joey."

"PLAY WITH THIS, PINHEAD"

joey gets the cube to go blue but this time...

it starts opening up!!

it starts autobotting and the zombos are looking at pinhead like, uh, dad? what do we do/???

then the cube starts shooting out blue stuff and ghostbustering all the zombos into it. they all scream and cry about it but there's nothing to be done, battle over, cube wins, that's it. pinhead tries to resist but he goes in, too... i... i think... we don't actually... see him...... go in.............

is that it? can joey go home now? this poor girl has been through An Ordeal.

joey tries to ask good ol ghosty if that's it. hello? is he there? don't flake out on us now, pal.

oh, what... is this now. wasn't that just dirt on the ground two seconds ago?

oh okay we're... here now, i guess.

look everybody, it's joey's dead dad.

so joey saved the world and gets to hug her dad, that's a pretty good reward. it's not going to bring back the scores of dead people, but this is okay.

wait

WAIT

WAAAAITT OH GOD WHAT THE HELL

"joey, they said you'd have something for me. something you won't need anymore." OH MY GOD STOP I'M HOLLERIN

"this? oh here, take it!" HONEY NO. JOEY NO. OH MY GOD

oh my god my entire soul is fleeing my physical form

I'M GONNA FRIGGIN FALL OVER AND DIE

well what the shit happens now

"save your tears. i'll reap your soul slowly."

then i legit don't know what the hell happens next, joey thinks about the window, and then all of a sudden...

...we're there? past the window?

"couldn't resist playing games, could you?" ah our old chap there he finally is

"you had to come through the window of her mind" okay say whatttttt. the window was in joey's mind all along? well that's kind of stupid if you ask me.

uh oh oh no oh dear it's time for chains. this is not the kind of kinky shit i am after let's not go down this road. cries and watches this through my hands.

oh no oh geez. pinhead stop i can't... do this... do not talk about pleasures right now... while this is... oh lord this is too weird

what... in the seven hells... is that. pinhead and ghostie take their sweet time watching each other while this THING rises up toward joey.

no. no fuckin way. i'm done. there's like three minutes left and i'm ready to leave.

bro. you're way too calm about this.

"you're right," he says to pinhead. "we do belong together."

and he reaches out and gets pinhead to drop the box. all right noW DO SOMETHING ABOUT THAT BACKGROUND HELLSPAWN

okay hellspawn and all the chains and weird things disappear, and then ghostie and pinhead fight, i guess.

me irl: "uhhhhh ok"

ah now they're a... tangled flesh monstrosity.

sure seems like... pinhead absorbed ol ghostie, though. that's not... great.

oh but... maybe it didn't go so hot for pinhead after all?

ghostie's head pops up and says "JOEY. SEND ME TO HELL." oh god please do. right now.

joey/cube otp

she messes with it a bunch while pinhead stalks closer, yipes!

now it's swiss army knifing. that's not what we need right now we need the other thing! the blue!

all right just kidding she gets it to be a dagger and stabs him good.

yeeeeowch! my pancreas!

yeah see ya. finally, once and for all, i think he's outta here.

ah, and there's the cube

NOW can joey finally go home? live in peace? all that good stuff? please leave her alone for the rest of time.

man stick that thing in some cement where it belongs, then throw it in the bottom of the atlantic.

look, cement! really get it in there deep. it doesn't really seem that deep. there were like nine more hellraisers after this so i'm thinking the cube makes its way out of the cement.

oh my sweet girl, go home and never think about any of this again. get some rest. get a therapist. stay far away from any and all ugly statues the rest of your life. you got a transport to space to catch; you don't got time to be running around down here!

joey goes home.

but there's one last thing.

that building they built on that construction site has some familiar designage.

THE END!!!!!! no seriously that's it. pinhead is the whole building?!!?!?!? NUKE IT.

ughhhhhh rubs my hands over my face so much for not having nightmares. thought i'd be free when i finally finished, but i think i am more unsettled than ever. really good! exactly what i wanted! man, what the fuck happens to joey now? she goes home and has ptsd for the rest of her life? somebody write me that fanfic. just kidding, don't, i don't want to think about it. only a happy life for joey now. no more hell raising for her. hope she moves to monterey and forgets all her troubles. maybe gets a nice girlfriend, settles down, never has a nightmare again.

oof. i gotta... do a juice cleanse or something. 2 spook. and jake is exactly right, i should never ever watch the rest of these movies, not ever in my life.

hey jake? you there, bud?

hold me ;_;