#he’s not a good person so he gets to be Judas

[embarrassingjon]

happy pride here’s probably my gayest painting

[all-pacas]

aside from his malpractice blunders being the most public, do you think the fact that foreman is quick to call out other’s unethical behaviors/complain about the team doing malpractice when he was literally assistant manager of the malpractice department contributes to his reputation of being a bit fake or disingenuous?

That's actually an interesting point! Foreman definitely… one of my favorite jokes at his expense is in Two Stories, when we see him through House's point of view:

Masters : We need to get a chest C.T. Foreman : Excuse me, I'm the senior team member, which means we don't need anything unless I say we need it. […] Foreman : We need a chest C.T.

Which is a joke, obviously. But, you know. Foreman is ambitious, but he always wants the credit. He is dismissive and petty and always thinks he's right (just like House!). We see repeatedly (Histories, Deception, House Training) that when he doesn't like a patient he dismisses all their symptoms and tries to push them out the door. He's not at all good at pretending he cares when he doesn't. (And hilariously complains that Chase is too good at pretending to care when he doesn't.) But when it's something he believes in or cares about, he goes completely the opposite direction: he ruins the Huntington's trial for, as Thirteen points out, someone he's dated for two weeks. He steals bone marrow to save a life.

He's… kind of a pure example of a hypocrite. He complains about Cameron being biased and unethical, and then breaks laws for the people he cares about. He complains about Chase not liking patients, and even Cameron describes his bedside manner as bad. He is the first team member in the series to tattle to Cuddy, but he thinks Chase is a huge rat. He wants to be in charge, and consistently kind of struggles with being a good boss, earning respect, getting people to listen to him. He clings to the idea of being Senior Fellow, uses it as an excuse to tell people what to do, is pretty consistently open with how little he respects Cameron and Chase… and then gets mad at them in S2 when they have no interest in listening to him when he's in charge.

(Tangent: this is why Taubman is so good. Because Taub genuinely doesn't give a shit. He's not threatened by Foreman. Foreman can't boss him around unless Taub lets him.)

Another of my favorite little exchanges is in Deception, the first episode Foreman is in charge of the team post-The Mistake:

FOREMAN: And I expect you [House] here for grand rounds at nine. By the way, I like sugar in my coffee. [He's grinning. Joking but enjoying himself.] CUDDY: [To Foreman, sharply] If there’s a screw-up, it’s your screw-up. You won’t have Dr. House to fall back on. [Foreman's face falls.]

He wants the power. He wants the responsibility. He loves the idea of House having to do what he says. And the idea of actually having to deal with consequences of messing up scares him. He gets so into the idea of fucking with House that he loses sight of the actual job. And through the S2 Foreman arc, he… is cautious. He stops coming up with ideas, he struggles mightily with getting Cameron and Chase to do anything he wants, he doesn't really do much. He wants so badly to be in charge, to be important, and then he drops the ball when he has it.

I think this is all pretty obvious from the outside! It turns into a joke, that's how obvious it is. Foreman struts into a room (Kids has another great example) assuming he has all the power and authority in the world, and then goes blank when no one listens. He's constantly pushing to be in charge and struggles when he gets it. And it goes into a whole other thing.

Foreman has massive imposter syndrome. He has incredible issues with his worth and sense of belonging and struggles to connect with people and be vulnerable. He doesn't think he belongs, he thinks at any minute people will notice and catch on and throw him out. He's the poor Black kid from a bad neighborhood and no one lets him forget it. He doesn't let himself forget it. He's always trying so damn hard to prove himself, to be the best in the room, that he ends up coming off as wildly hypocritical: he puts down others to make himself look good, he pushes to be best but has no end goal, no win state, no moment that he does feel like he belongs. He doesn't want to be like House, correctly identifying that House is miserable. But he admires House. But in other ways, he wishes he could be like House. House doesn't give a shit what people think of him. Foreman spends every day looking over his shoulder.

[summerof336bc]

GOT TO SEE THE CHOSEN IN THE THEATER. IM OFFICIALLY INSANE

[id: a post banner that reads "i'm not christian (just mentally ill)". the background is Leonardo Di Vinci's "The Last Supper". end id]

[wheneverfeasible]

Bullshit (part 1/3)

Now on ao3

He should probably get a new car.

He didn’t want to. He loved his car, but it wasn’t really cool, was it? Preppy cool, maybe, but not my-boyfriend-is-in-a-metal-band cool. It had certainly seen better days too.

He’d used to reprimand the kids whenever they trailed in dirt and food crumbs or spilled their milkshakes or whatever, but after he stopped doing the same to Eddie, he couldn’t really do it to them either. Besides, he didn’t want to be a stick in the mud.

It was why he’d thrown out all his Wham! and Tears for Fears cassettes, threw out anything that wasn’t Judas Priest or Iron Maiden or whatever else Eddie liked. It was why he boxed away all his brightly colored polos and now just wore the band tees that Eddie let him borrow, why he’d bought some of his own, as well as skinnier dark jeans that he knew Eddie liked the look of his ass in. He even got some bracelets like Eddie’s, and now he actually looked the part of Eddie’s boyfriend and not so much like a sore thumb when he went to all of Eddie’s shows.

The only thing he needed to change, besides his car, was his hair. He’d been putting it off the longest. He loved his car, but he loved his hair more. He didn’t make it quite as styled nowadays, but it was the last part of him that spoke of his former personality. Because he had to change, didn’t he? He knew what happened when you didn’t make your partner happy. Knew what happened when your love was bullshit and he never wanted Eddie to find him unworthy.

So he liked the things Eddie liked now, he dressed the way Eddie dressed, and he did what Eddie did. If he made Eddie happy, if he didn’t make Eddie do anything he didn’t want to do, then Eddie wouldn’t find fault in Steve. It was simple as that. He knew better now. Because Nancy had broke his heart, but losing Eddie? It would break his soul.

So he needed a new car. Maybe a van like Eddie’s, or would that be too much? A BMW was hardly metal, after all. He needed something cooler. And then…then he would change his hair.

He would need to figure out what Eddie thought was cool. Needed to figure out what Eddie liked. Should he buzz it? Should he grow it out? He didn’t know. Eddie had never brought up hair before. He didn’t know what Eddie would prefer. Maybe he could ask Jeff. He’d known Eddie the longest, after all.

Maybe he should dye it. That would look cool, right?

The others had noticed, of course. They’d commented on his new attire, the fact that he didn’t listen to his favorite music anymore, that he only seemed to be doing what Eddie wanted to do nowadays. But Eddie just looked happy whenever Steve agreed to whatever movie Eddie wanted to watch, or what to have for dinner, or what to do on Steve’s days off. That was the important part: making Eddie happy.

So Steve just brushed off their concerns, explained it away as saying that he was growing up and his interests were growing. He even played stupid Dungeons and Dragons now, always making certain he got the names correct, always doing his best to play it how Eddie would want him to play it, even if it always gave him a headache afterwards with all the numbers and words and strategizing.

He always put Eddie’s needs first, be it physically, emotionally, or even just recreationally. If Steve did that, if he was good enough, if he became exactly what his partner wanted, maybe he wouldn’t lose this. Wouldn’t lose Eddie.

Maybe, if Steve made his love good enough, Eddie wouldn’t ever say it was bullshit.

-

Now with a part two

[ofjunemoment]

let me teach you how to smash | park jisung

In the list of sports, ranked from most to least sexy, badminton would be found at the very bottom if not ranked last. But why is it that when Jisung plays the with a feathered shuttle your heart flutters? 

 OR: Jisung helps you improve your badminton skills. 

 pairing — badminton player!jisung x fem!reader 

 genre — sports!au, university!au, (one sided) enemies to friends to lovers, slight slow burn 

 wc — 22k (😀 huh)

content — university/sports class setting, humour, fluff, the tiniest bit of angst,  idols mentioned, very heavy on the dialogue/backstory at one point sorry babies <3, smut (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

smut tags — making out, fingering, switch!jisung and reader (there's no strong dynamic tbh), protected sex, pet names (jisung gets called a good boy), lmk if I missed anything!

 a/n — YAYYY i can finally share this with u guys!! i have been cooking this for some time and im actually so excited to release it!! I'm a badminton enthusiast so I went a bit ham on the descriptions and back story sorry (not rlly),, I hope this is a good readdd I read through it so much to fix it up and now Im a bit sick of it oops BUT its a story I've been wanting to write so here you go <3 enjoy!

sfw version here!

You enjoy sports. 

You liked dancing sometimes — which is certainly a type of sport  — and you dabbled with different sports at one point in school, but you don’t actively go out of your way to do any intense exercise. It can be sweaty and painful and maybe it’s a little like hitting the gym, but in most sports you need sportsmanship, and why would you be kind to the person who not only won but is rubbing it in your face? 

You once yelled at Taeyong for kicking the ball in the wrong goal when your group of friends went out of their way to play makeshift soccer to bring back memories. You yelled, at precious Taeyong, who flinches at the sight of a fly

Okay, so you tolerate sports.

But in an effort to have your resume look pretty after finishing your degree, your friend Juda had shed light on this one program that has you do a bunch of extracurricular activities and in turn, you’ll gain extra credit. Seamless and effortless, you didn’t need to pay anything towards the program as most of the work was volunteering; like reading to kids or helping clean up lecture rooms now and then. What Juda failed to mention was the other extracurricular required of you, which was to go to a sporting class set up by the university.

Sporting classes; two hours a week minimum.

They were kind enough to provide you with options, but it still wasn't easy to choose whether you wanted two whole hours of HIIT fitness or football, which caused you to almost give up on the whole thing. Until you saw the word ‘badminton’ printed in the faintest ink, almost as if it was a mistake.

So here you are, in the campus’ sports equipment shop with Chenle, looking through what seems like badminton rackets.

“Do you think this is good?” You pick up a racket that has a mix of matte white and mint around the frame, with the string sporting the shade black, testing the weight in your hand. 

“That’s a tennis racket stupid.” He goes to ruffle your hair but instead gets his hand slapped away and a frown etched on his face as you scoff at him. “I knew that,”  You scowl.

“Well then don’t be an asshole about it, asshole.”

“I wasn’t being—” Both of you jump at a sudden sound that pitched in between your shoulders, as your hand flies to your chest in shock while Chenle’s eyebrow hitch up.

“Sorry?” It was Chenle who said that to the person who snuck up behind you two, his arms crossing defensively and landing on his left chest, as he positions himself subtly a little closer to you, almost as if he’s instinctively shielding him.

“Ah, sorry for surprising you; I just came to ask if you guys needed help with anything?” It was when the employee raised her ID card that was hanging on a white lanyard around her neck that Chenle’s defence began to soften as you brought your hand down, replacing the confused look on your faces with one of realisation.

“Ahh, uhm, I was wondering if you could recommend a badminton racket, nothing too fancy, maybe something to last a good two years.”

“Two years?” Chenle was the one that turned to you with a look of disbelief. The employee merely smiled and gestured her hands towards the very other side of the store and quickly turned to guide you.

“Hold on, you’re doing this stupid thing for two years? Half of your courses years? You’re just gonna voluntarily stress yourself with even more work?”

“ . . . Yes? I don’t know what to tell you, that’s my main intention. That’s why I joined this program. You’ve asked me multiple times like I’m going to miraculously change my mind and thank you for it like you’re a rich person, giving me, a homeless person, a piece of bread and then barely look at me as you record the whole thing for your livestream.” You huff while going to lie down on your back on the floor around your newly bought badminton equipment; a set of badminton rackets and some cylinder packets full of shuttlecocks, the feather ones because the plastic ones suck ass, the employee had smiled at you.

You sit up just as quickly as a dull pain shoots up your back. The motherfucking shuttlecocks.

“That’s one way to make up an analogy,” Chenle’s eyes land on the shuttlecock you had freshly crushed, now looking all squashed and disoriented. Poor thing didn’t even last a minute.

“What’s she moping about this time?” Juda’s voice echoed from the door as she places the tote bag she had brought down next to the shoe shelf.

“I’m not moping; I never mope. What do I even look like when I mope?”

“She’s just crying about the fact that she has to do this thing program for another two years.” His words elicit a shout and the gradual flinging of a nearby couch pillow from you. Chenle’s neck cracked as the pillow hit his head downwards.

“Did I kill him yet,” You voiced your disinterest, sitting up on your elbows briefly to analyse Chenle’s face before giving up and laying back down. Chenle stayed in that position for a while before getting up in a fury, ready to avenge you. Juda stopped him with a kick to his leg. 

“Such disrespectful words, is it hard to show some courtesy around here?” You huff and go to lie down once more, not before feeling around the surface for any stray shuttlecock.

“When it comes to you, yes,” Juda throws Chenle a Yakult, and she flings you one straight at your stomach. You attempt not to flinch.

“Here’s to either two more years of moping about this stupid badminton class every week, or two months of hardcore whining from both of you until you break and drop out.” Juda raises her Yakult bottle and clinks it with yours — that’s still on your stomach — and against Chenle’s who was drinking out of it the moment she did so, spilling what little there was of it on his face. Chenle recovers and yells out offensively, causing Juda to squeal as she stands up and goes behind the couch, using it as her shield. 

You inhale and try to tune them out.

Chenle smiles as you giggle at him, the loud music of EDM mixed with Kidz bop playing in the background as the sound of metal basketball hoop clanging echoes just enough for it to have a rhythm. He looks determined to beat the high score of this stupid basketball game, as Juda and you take turns watching him play the game and criticising his moves, even when none of you know much about basketball as he does. It’s been a few weeks since the start of the semester and hence, the beginning of your program. The kids you read to are either sleepy or disinterested as you start early in the morning, and the cleaning of lecture rooms is bearable at most times. 

So things are going great at this point.

That was until Chenle called out to you: “How’s badminton going?” and, you’re not gonna lie, that did dampen your mood just by a bit, but you give your best attempt at masking it and smiling through; you didn’t want them to pick up on the fact that it’s been one lesson and you’re already sick and tired of it (or, at least sick and tired of one certain person). But Juda’s just too smart and catches on too easily with anything that you and Chenle try to brush under the rug. She raises one eyebrow at you before retorting: “What, are you whinging about it already?”

“Am not!”

“Then what is it?” Juda says at the same time that Chenle swears, a little too loud for a kids arcade, but it’s around 8 PM and the only kids that are here probably do some sort of drug or something if they have parents who allow them to be out this late.

“Nothing, okay? The coach is great and the other people who are there are fine too, and I actually learnt a lot —”

“But?” Juda’s lips are pink as she wraps them around a straw poking out from her slushie cup. You lean back in retaliation, back pressed against the basketball machine as you try to find a leeway.

“. . . But.”

You’re late. And you can’t even use the excuse that you woke up late because it’s seven p.m. and you’ve scoffed down your early dinner two hours ago. You simply decided to just procrastinate to the next level in an attempt to gauge if you truly want to continue with this program or not. But now here you are, on a bus that’s severely delayed due to the evening traffic and running frantically to make it to class on time.

Minkyung is a 50-year-old dad who coaches this class; he was also at the office where you had submitted your form for the program, and was over the moon that you had decided to try out his class, hence asking you questions about your knowledge of badminton, and went on this spiel when you had made the mistake of being truthful. 

He now looks at you with a kind and wrinkly smile as your shoes squeak against the floor, one hand to your rib in an attempt to not show how much out of breath you were. “Don’t worry,” his voice was quiet enough for you to register only. “You arrived on time, I just finished the information briefing that you heard from me some time ago.” His smile was tight-lipped but genuine. Trying to even out your breathing, you set down your equipment and quickly join the rest in a circle. A clap echoes throughout the quiet hall as the coach drops his hands and clears his throat while letting out a puff of air, his eyes grazing by everyone’s heads in what you assume to be his way of counting the participants of the class.

“Glad to have everyone here today, I hope with this class you guys would not only learn about badminton but also be able to learn about its sportsmanship and benefits,” His eyes dart around the rather small circle. You expected the hall to be filled with as many students as that one Zumba class you were forced to attend in high school, but it was a rather tame class. 

The coach hums, thinking about something deeply as the other students shuffle around, shifting their weight from side to side in the silence engulfing the court. He looked up and clapped again softer this time. “I’ve decided to treat you like my children’s class.” He concluded, “I want you guys to introduce yourself to each other. Now don’t be shy; everyone's new in this class. Maybe you can find a friend in this class to learn better and more quicker. Okay, let’s start with you.” He pointed towards a guy that was to his left, who looked back at him with wide eyes. He looked around and smiled sheepishly yet brightly. “My name’s Haechan, and uh, I’m 22?” He finished it off with bound lips as he refers to the person after him to begin. 

And as you all finish introducing yourselves to each other, with a girl named Minji being last, the introductory circle ends, meaning the coach can now start the stretching and warm-up exercises. But he hasn’t. 

“Uh, coach, are we gonna—?” Minji stopped halfway as the coach whips his head to look at the gigantic clock on the wall next to the hall’s equally huge entrance. You crane your head curiously towards the direction of his vision, straining both your ears and vision to see what he was looking for, as everyone around you catches on and seems to do the same. It isn’t long after till the squeaking of shoes against the rubber ground echoes throughout; soon enough, the coach screams ‘fourteen minutes!’ as another person steps into the hall, wide eyes darting around everyone as he swallows in an attempt to simmer down his erratic breathing. As the guy's breathing evens out enough for him to probably mutter an apology, your breathing picks up.

“First day and you’ve already fallen for someone? Very on brand for you,”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” You scramble to hit Chenle with his golden pokemon card folder he brought to the arcade. Juda calmly stops you using her right hand, as her left hand picks up her drink to take another sip from. 

“She didn’t even finish her story, Chenle. Go on,” Juda set her slushy down as her grip loosens from around your wrist, signalling to continue the story.

“Thank you, Juda, for you’re my favourite of them all—”

“Are you gonna finish your story?” Her grip tightened.

“A-as I was saying,”

You like to analyse people to some extent, thinking about how body language is cool and how it can depict everyone's different life, contrasting drastically from one another yet sometimes being so similar even with all of our different circumstances. This is why you tried analysing everyone in your class of busy people attempting to hit the shuttlecock in a streak longer than ten, as your eye flitting around the court and landing on your next target, the new guy, simply because that’s in your nature.

(“In your nature? Or was it just the mysterious guy that came into the class so suddenly, panting and out of bre—“

“Shut up? Anyway,” )

“Ah Jisung, this is the latest you’ve been,” The coach nodded innocently towards the guy, as if he hadn’t scared the piss out of all of you when he shouted.

He’s a bit stiff with his walk, and his shoulders seem to harden like a board when his eyes scan around the class and its participants. With wide eyes, he looks like a lost puppy with the way he looks back at the coach in some sort of silent confirmation of something. It’s probably his first time having a general class with coach Minkyung, you realise as you see Jisung bow sheepishly to his teacher.

“Sorry,” his voice was hushed, rumbling as he talked. His eyes scanned briefly once again across the now sparked class doing forehand and backhand practices that the teacher has instructed them to do. You locked eye contact with him from afar and quickly looked away, ears feeling a little bit hotter than it was a second before.

Soojin leans in towards you and Ryujin a bit and whispers, “Do you think he’s new? Like . . . All of us?”

You and Ryujin glance at each other for a quick second, before you smile profusely as Ryujin places her hands on the pole that holds the badminton net, her racket clenched fist supporting her chin as she ponders. “Not at all.” She says rather flatly, a cheeky smile following up after. Solely looking at him doesn’t give you any insights on his level of badminton playing, which is weird, because till now he could pick up on some people's skills; you’ve so far guessed correctly with a few of the participants (including yourself, you think you’re an average player in this class) so you feel a bit stumped. 

He stands stiff as he talks to the coach, keeping his gaze stern on his coach. He seems to be wearing normal trackies and only has a very slim back for his racket. 

“He’s obviously a beginner, his bag is so thin compared to Coach and even Haechan, he also doesn’t look like a long-time player” Jaemin pipes in.

“Who are you to say? You said you’ve been playing for how long and you’re still this bad?” Soojin smiles as she dodges Jaemin’s hand by a fraction. But Ryujin isn’t having any of it as she breathes in with her teeth clenched, hissing out a sound of suspicion.

“Coach seems to know him, which makes me think he’s either been here before, or he’s just the coach's nepotism offspring.”

“Okay!” The coach claps his hand, forcing everyone to act like they were practising. “Gather around; we’re gonna do a basic skills test for this lesson, then I’m gonna split you up into groups and we’ll get to work with the people with the same skills. Cool?” He throws two thumbs up as everyone stays silent, with one of the two people nodding. You watch as he sees the coach's enthusiasm die down a little.

“Cool?” The coach had yelled now, startling everyone else in the second round of heart attacks; everyone else yell back this time, the word ‘cool’ echoing around the grand sports court. You notice that everyone’s responded to the coach's request except for Jisung.

“Oh girl . . .” Juda now has her manicured hand placed on your sulked shoulder of realisation.

“I know, I’m so sorry, Juda.” You look into the distance of the arcade, feigning sorrow; or maybe it’s not much of a feign.

“The fuck,” Chenle turns to see both of you huddled in what looks like a cry fest. “Did someone fucking die?”

“Watch your tongue,” An old woman wearing a neon orange vest belonging to the arcade staff points at Chenle, who bows down as he murmurs ‘sorry’, with you two trying your best not to laugh, following and bowing your heads down too when the seething woman’s eyes meet your figures.

“How dare you anger the poor lady, her blood pressure is probably already high enough,” Juda picks at Chenle, who is now quietly trying to slip in the token to play another round.

“I wouldn’t have if you guys didn’t just suddenly go emo for no reason. What the f—” Chenle’s eyes waver back and see the woman’s eyes (Are they naturally red? Or is it the arcade lighting?) glaring back at him once more. “Frick. What the frick happened.”

“Oh Chenle, we must mourn for her. She’s fallen for another mysterious guy who barely has any personality.” 

“Oh my god,”

“Oh my fucking god, what—”

“Fuck,” Jisung sighed when he missed the shuttlecock by just a hair's width. Everyone was standing in a line-like formation, at the tip of their toes against the line that made the distinction between the playing court and outside. Jisung and the coach were having a match, the first test that the coach had implemented to determine who goes into what group according to their skills, and when no one volunteered, Jisung silently centred himself on the court as the coach's face broke out into a glow. 

Although his face was adorned with wrinkles even when still, and his skin did seem to look just a smidge pruney all the time — the I’m growing old look he had on his face was impossible to miss — the coach’s never looked sharper and younger than he does now, zipping through his side of the court like a bees race. Jisung on the other hand, seems to have a calm demeanour, quietly and tranquilly stepping forward and back, delivering lobs and clears, limbs outstretched to effortlessly hit the shuttlecock back even if it seems that his position doesn’t allow such moves. 

In the cold of Autumn, the stiffness of everyone's bodies was just the tiniest bit evident after a round of stretching, but two right in front of you look as if they’re playing in the heat of the summer, arms and legs effortlessly moving around the court. You try not to look too intently into the thin glisten of sweat forming on Jisung's neck.

Soojin raises her hand without taking her eyes off of the two people playing intensively in front of her, as Jaemin reaches in his pockets to place ten thousand won into her open palm, not letting his gaze wander away from the game either. “Thank you for your service.”

“I can’t believe he’s that good, I should’ve known from his cocky demeanour.” Haechan sighs, his fist resting against his cheek, hoisted up by his other hand. Everyone looks in his direction.

“You would think that it takes one to know one,” Minji almost barely whispers as she looks away from him by her side, looking back at the game with everyone else following. 

“Ah, fine. You won.” Coach drops his racket down from its first stage position, going towards the net with an open palm. Jisung barely takes a step forward before he’s lifting his hand too, shaking hands over the net as everyone claps behind them.

“Okay then, who’s next?”

You spend half the lesson just like that, with everyone playing against the coach followed by him then instructing everyone to get into the key badminton positions. You suspect that this is the core of learning badminton as the coach guides you from the way you hold your racket to the way your feet are positioned, but all you’re really thinking about right now is how badly you just want to go home.

“Okay!” The coach claps, as people gather around him in a semi-breathless state, just from being told to carry out a few sets of actions that badminton has. You don’t know why badminton necessarily needs ladder crossovers, but you barely get to give out a sigh before your eyes catch on Jisung’s seemingly calm composure. He’s done so much and maybe even a round extra, but he’s barely breaking a sweat.

Why does he look so good? Show off.

“Believe it or not, we’re done already! I now have an understanding of what level each one of you is in and will put you into groups.” You keep trying to wipe at your face to keep the sweat away, but an even coat of sweat is now settled on your hand after wiping it many times, so it only feels like you’re spreading it evenly. 

All while mysterious Jisung barely lifts his shoulder to have the cloth of his shirt wipe away the bead at his temple. 

How utterly gross of him. You wonder if he’s single.

“So I will see you all next week and give your level, thanks for joining!” And everyone disperses, spreading around the hall to get to their bags and start packing. You are standing above your bag, packing it and taking your bottle out to take a sip when you see Minji and Soojin whisper shouting, which defeats the whole point of whispering in the first place.

“How much do you wanna guess that he eats and sleeps here?” Soojin is practically bouncing in her place, taking multiple obvious glances at Jisung’s figure, who’s seemingly roaming around in his bag instead of packing it like everyone else, his racket placed neatly on top of his bag instead of inside.

“Nothing, because at this point it almost seems like a fact.” And with that, you shoulder your bag and head for the door, too tired to function.

“And you have no muscle aches? Impressive.” Juda pipes, her eyes glued to the road as she drives them back home.

“Oh no, I do. I just plastered a few KT tapes.” You say from your position in the passenger seat, elbow resting against the rolled-down window with your hand against your forehead, getting a nice breather from the wind outside. Chenle who’s sitting in the middle reaches his hand forward and pulls your sleeve up from behind to reveal your arm and shoulder lined up with tapes of blue and green. 

“A few huh,” Juda smiles and Chenle retorts, as you tch at them both. 

“I didn’t want to risk it, okay?” You say, yanking the cloth back down and slapping at Chenle’s hand, facing forward once again with your hands crossed defensively and gaze set outside again. The car lights up in the yellow of the street lights, as Juda drives through the night. 

“So when’s your next class?”

“And group A has . . . Jisung. Just Jisung”

“No, bad dog. Stop taking your anger out on Chenle’s biceps,” Juda attempted half-assedly to swat at your hands while her eyes were still glued to her phone, as you retell what happens with your next class.

“It hurts, Juda. Make her stop!”

You were furious. Group C? You knew you were better than that, having played almost every other sport growing up, even if occasionally, you’d gotta be good at badminton. Why is Jisung the only one in group A? Yes, fine, maybe he plays well, but it also means that you’ve been ranked down a group just because he was too perfect. Why does he attend the class if he’s already so good?

Subconsciously, you try to convince yourself to not take this whole grouping thing quite literally, as the coach had said that they’re not ranked or anything; but how can you not take it personally when the people you thought you were on par with were in group B. It takes all of your willpower for your scowl to not be displayed, but you soon find that you don’t have to try too hard as the coach assigns you all to your positions.

“Lighter on the feet,” Coach ordered, the squeak of shoe soles rubbing against the floor echoing throughout the sports hall. You, Soojin, Jaemin and Minji go through what the coach calls fundamental steps; right foot northeast with a forehand flick, right foot northwest with a backhand flick. It helps with the basics of the game, which everyone forgets, but you don’t think half an hour of the same steps helps with remembering either.

While group B, which consists of Haechan and Ryujin, go through the same phases with some extra steps added to strengthen their posture while playing. It’s not that you think your play better than the people in your group or group B, but mainly your irrational annoyance stems from the fact that you’re position in the class is gonna be recorded into your progress report, and you know for a fact that if Jisung wouldn’t be participating this dead class, you would be in group B. Yes, it’s still the last group out of two, but you can say that you’re merely ranked second. Instead, you’re last out of three.

As the steps turn repetitive, you let your eyes wander around mindlessly, your feet carrying you throughout as your hands attempt to do the actions in a somewhat muscle memory process. Your gaze eventually settles on Jisung, whose back is facing you as he smacks the shuttlecock against the wall, which bounces back only for him to smack at it again, repeating this one-man game he seems to have made up for himself. You glare lasers into his back, thinking about how maybe you’re not into this whole mysterious demeanour as you thought you were, seeing him just making up his own moves as the coach merely bounces back between the two of your groups, only checking in on Jisung after a few rounds of lecturing your moves and correcting your mistakes. 

Three consecutive claps echo around the tall indoor court, as everyone drops their rackets at their bags and gather around the coach in a circle, somewhat holding some sort of formation with Ryujin to his right and Jisung to his left, and with you positioned almost opposite of him. “Good job everyone, now it’s time to cool down, exactly how we warmed up,” Clueless, most of you follow the coach’s steps while he urges each person to take turns counting, counting up to eight in a clockwise direction. Your eyes can’t stop fleeting to Jisung, the star of every badminton night, as your petty envy prevents you from minding your own business. Throughout the whole night, you’ve seen him take only warming up and cooling down somewhat seriously, as he crosses his arms and holds up a good posture, compared to the rest of the class who simply just slump over, wanting the session to end and finally catch a break. 

One final clap and you’re all free to go. And you don’t waste a second, grabbing all your essentials and bag and quickly darting for the door, ready to go home and wash up and just not support your whole body weight on your feet. As you bid everyone goodbye and bow your head lightly to the coach, you watch as Jisung strides up to the coach in a meek manner, as his eyes fall on your retreating figure just slightly before softly calling out the coach's name. 

It’s nine p.m. on the dot when you step out of the court and breathe in the cold air.

Juda’s on the couch when you step into the apartment, toeing off your sports shoes as you rest your badminton bag against the shoe shelf, at hand for your next trip to your class. 

With a mouth full of chips, Juda barely takes her eyes off the screen before asking “How was class?”

“Same old,” You shrug.

“Same old? You’ve only been twice. How in tune are you with the coach for it to—” Your groan stops her teasing, as she smirks at your tired form squatting against the floor, hands clutching at the door and your hair in frustration.

“Could you have at least let me get home first before frying my brain?” Your hand falls to your face, and that’s when you feel the residue of your sweat from earlier, having turned into oil. The urge to shower now tenfold, you attempt to raise yourself and pass out in the shower.

“I’m gonna wash up now, and probably go to sleep,” You mutter just loud enough for Juda to hear, to which she hums while you retrieve a towel.

“Oh wait, before you go,” She calls just as you inch towards your room, “Do you know where my umbrella went? I’m going to campus tomorrow and I think it’s gonna rain again. I tried calling you but I don’t think it went through,” 

“Oh yeah, It’s by the door.” You recall taking the umbrella to class today, as the forecast has been filled with rain symbols with the Autumn weather. Digging in your bag, you push past your essentials in order to find your phone which Juda’s called. “That’s weird, my phone is not here.”

“Did you take it with you today?” Juda mumbles as she munches on a few more chips, rubbing her fingers against her pants after every serving. 

“I’m sure I did,” You ponder out loud, as you remove your hands from your bag in favour of patting at your pants and jacket resting on the clothing hanger, in case you somehow shoved it in your pockets without knowing.

“Did you forget it?” As soon as the words leave your roommate's mouth, you are met with a vivid picture of your phone, abandoned on the bench in the badminton court you left in a hurry. You sigh, placing your towel on the bathroom counter briefly before grabbing your house keys while putting your shoes on.

“I’ll be back Juda,”

“Good luck,” She waves.

You’re beyond tired, and a little frustrated at yourself for being impatient and forgetting your phone. You can’t risk losing such a thing, hence you’re glad that the lights were still on when you arrived at the building, giving a wave to the receptionist. 

Stepping onto the court, you immediately zero in on your phone which is perched on the bench, the black shade of the screen a contrast against the silver metal bar. But a squeak of a sole against the floor earns a squeal out of your mid-march, as you clutch your shirt next to your heart and turn towards the perpetrator.

“Oh my god,” Jisung’s gaze is what you’re met with as you let out a sigh of relief, the man in question only turning around as you mutter under your breath. 

“Sorry,” That’s the first time you’ve heard his voice all day, and there’s something about the tone of his voice that calms your heart down just a bit.

“What are you still doing here?” Your curiosity gets the best of you, your forgotten phone laying there, continuing to be overlooked as you question the presence of your classmate.

His eyes squint ever so slightly at your question, as his eyes ghost over you, as if he’s seeing you for the first time. “I’m practising,”

Practising? After two hours of badminton class, he didn’t seem like he did much then, but he’s still staying back to practice. You hum in slight adulation, rocking back and forth on your feet as he turns back around and runs through steps you’re unfamiliar with. As you inch towards your phone, you think more about his prominent presence in the court; is he too shy in class? Or maybe he gets private classes from the coach?

But as you scan your eyes around the court, you’re met with a near-empty court, as the only thing in sight is his bottle and slim bag. You’re not sure exactly what you’re waiting for as you hold onto your phone, fidgeting on your spot as your eyes follow Jisung’s swift movements. He seems more tired now than he ever was in the two classes you’ve shared with him, as his shoulders ride up more with an attempt of regaining stability with his breaths.

You’re not sure how long you’ve loitered around, but it must be a long amount of time for Jisung to look at you with disdain and shock.

“. . . Why are you still here?” He seems more reserved — something you didn’t know could happen — as he asks you this question, holding his racket subconsciously closer to his body. Your eyes widen at the prospect of being caught, as you shake your hands vehemently, stumbling back a bit. 

“Sorry, I wasn’t—” You didn’t know how you were going to explain yourself, but one glance at the door of the court is all you need.

Bowing your head as quickly as you can in a lieu of a goodbye, Jisung could barely apprehend what you did before you’re bolting out of the badminton court.

A week later, you’re not sure how you’re supposed to face Jisung with your awkward encounter, and it is evident that the incident has been plaguing your mind as you stand at the door of the sports centre, both hands gripping the strap do your bag. 

“What if he thinks I’m a weirdo for just standing there and stalking him?” Your wandering mind does nothing to help ease the situation, as more arbitrary scenarios flow after one another. Maybe he told the coach how much of a creep you are and now when you step in, you’ll be banned from class.

“Oh dear god,” You let your head fall forwards, trying to tip over the thought out of your head. Closing your eyes, you try to think of the things you can do once the class is over when a tap on your shoulder brings you out of your reverie. You turn to look behind your shoulder, fearing that it's someone robbing you or worse— Jisung; only to see coach Son, smiling at you with a hint of worry laced on his forehead. 

Your shoulders sag with relief. “Hi coach,” you wince internally at your response, voice coming out high-pitched as you clench your grip on your bag. 

“Let's go in and start some warm-ups, yeah?” And as you follow the coach to the class, you make sure to subtly hide behind him in case you catch s glimpse of Jisung anywhere, not wanting to run into him. As you quietly peek your head over his right shoulder once and his left shoulder next, you feel like a secret agent sneaking up on your target. A clearing of someone's throat snaps you out of your act, as your shoulders bunch up and in shock and you quickly turn, only to be met with the feared man of the night.

It seems like he’s been trying to go up to the coach and maybe say hi, but your lurking figure both stopped and perplexed him, not knowing why you were just peeking your head around like a mole rat.

“Sorry,” You mumble slightly, eyes wide as you back away towards the closest wall, wanting to blend into it and live with the bricks. Maybe you’ll face less embarrassment that way but knowing you, anything is possible.

“It’s okay,” His voice is as unassuming as always, eyes looking anywhere but you now that he’s caught your attention. You think his shyness is quite cute, but not for long as you think back to being scared of him from last week to being jealous of him, also from last week. That’s a lot of emotion for you to process. 

He pulls up his hands, now shaped into a fist and looks past you, but you know he’s talking to you when he mutters, “Fighting,” before fully facing away and walking past you as if the mortification of his action has caught up to him. You barely contain your shocked expression behind your hand.

“Good job today guys, now we all have a basic grasp of the initial steps and our skills when it comes to badminton.” You brace your hands on your knees, just having done a set of wall squats as a way to build stamina, or so you’ve been told. You thought that maybe a month into these classes and you would’ve had some sort of energy stashed away in you when attending class, but it’s week five and you’re fighting for your life three seconds into a plank.

“Now I don’t wanna treat this class academically, but for those of you who truly care, there will be an assessment in the midst of this course to reevaluate your standing and see if you can advance from your group! But other than that, remember that this class can be solely for fun reasons too . . .” The rest of coach's words were white noise to your ears. Reevaluation? Does that mean that you can advance? That you’ll have a shot? 

“Are you okay?” Soojin leans in toward you, whispering while pointing to what you assume would be the shock on your face. You turn to her, drawing a thumbs up to reassure her. And before you know it class is done and you’re pulled to do a series of cool-down moves. You eagerly follow through, now somehow charged with motivation to stay back and go over your moves a few times. You figure that the least you can do to move up a rank is to spend an extra hour going over your moves, even when you sometimes think about the significance of them.

You tread up to the coach and ask in your kindest voice if it was possible for you to stay back. “Of course, are you gonna go through the steps again?” He questions as he shifts his bag from one hand to another. You give a nod and wave goodbye, watching as everyone litters out of the court.

Well, almost everyone.

You can feel, more than anything, Jisung’s gaze piercing your figure through the hood of his jumper, while you give your best attempt at stretching. You’re not sure really what stretches best help with reducing the ache in your muscles the day after, but you figure the endeavour of reaching your toes should do.

Even after a few minutes of trying to appear mellow, Jisung’s presence alone makes you feel on edge as if you’ve stolen his territory. But you figure that nothing will change and that all you can really do right now is, well, practice.

The squeak of your shoes echoes every now and then, followed by a whip sound of the racket you’re flinging in the air. If you do this quickly enough, surely your skills will improve, right? From what your coach Son demonstrated earlier, you realised that as he would start off the steps slowly for your group to get a hang of, he was able to transition the speed to his liking, doing each step quickly and efficiently. 

“Okay, should be easy,” You’re careful not to speak too loud in the almost quiet hall, giving yourself words of encouragement. Hand braced in the first position, then in the second, then a slight step back, and then your hand straight and quickly bend.

You finish the routine with its final step of hitting the imaginary shuttle as fast and as straight as your hand can go with such speed. With one round done, you brace yourself in the initial position to do it again. One, two, three and four.

You only get to pump out four, maybe five rounds of this pattern before a clearing of someone's throat scares the daylights out of you. With a barely contained shout, you’d forgotten — however briefly — that you weren’t alone. You’re looking at Jisung, who seems shocked at accidentally shaking you up so much, before he says something to you.

“What?” Even with the stillness of the court, the man’s words were barely comprehensible, as yours echoed slightly throughout the court. 

“You’re doing it wrong,” Oh, so the first comment he ever mutters to you are words of criticism. You furrow your brows, head tilting slightly out of habit as you encourage him to go on.

“When you’re recoiling from hitting the shuttle, your racket still faces forward instead of down,” He explains, but none of it makes sense to you and it must be evident in your face, with Jisung looking slightly frustrated that the words did not register in your head.

“If you keep your racket facing forward, the ball isn’t going to go down but head straight, which allows your opponent to retaliate better.” He continues, and you somewhat understand where he’s getting at, but he’s not really helping you at all. All he did was point out your mistake, which makes you feel that he’s just trying to show off his knowledge.

“Well, what should I do then?” You can’t help but seem a bit agitated, as you slump your shoulders and let the racket settle by your ankles, your hold on the handle tightening ever so slightly.

“Hit it face down,” He raises his arm and demonstrated the step to you, causing the head of his hoodie to fall, shining the light of the court on his face. You’re briefly stuck looking at his face instead of his step, but were reeled back in when he makes eye contact. You clear your throat as he goes through the step again, which you think were exactly the steps you were doing a second ago.

“But, how was I any different?” You say as you mimic his steps, bracing yourself in the positions without much thinking, and hitting the imaginary shuttle right as when he does.

“No- see, you did it again,” He steps a bit closer as he gestures to the racket in your hand. “You’re hitting it straight on. You’re supposed to go down.” You sigh as he says this, feeling a bit irked that a mere student is trying to tell you what to do. He is in the top rank, so maybe he has a point.

Attempting to set your implicit annoyance aside, you intently look at his hand and the way he moves his wrist at the end of the step, trying your best to imprint this into your head. He looks a bit flustered with how much your gaze is focused on him, but still goes on two more times before nodding his head at you, encouraging you to try once more. 

You look at the position of your hand this time instead of him, going through the initial steps and tweaking your wrist to face more downwards this time than your last few attempts, before your eyes quickly flit towards Jisung, looking for some sort of confirmation with your try. The subdued purse of his lips assures your suspicion, which is that you’re doing it right this time round.

“Good, did you kinda find out what you were doing wrong?” The words come out on reflex, and you don’t think twice this time about him being in the same class as you and yet trying to coach your steps, as you ponder on his question.

“I mean, I found out I was doing something wrong when you pointed it out, but I’m not quite sure what you meant when you said I was hitting it straight on.”

“Wow, you were really into him weren’t you?”

“Shut up Chenle, I was into the badminton technicality.”

Jisung steps forward a little bit and is about to say something before he hesitates. You look at him sceptically, waiting to see what he was gonna say before he shakes his head and seemingly snaps himself out of it. “Can you go back to the third position?” He asks of you, which you raise your hand and assume the position. Your racket and arm are raised pointed straight to the ceiling, while he positions his fisted hand in front of you. Your questioning look doesn’t go unnoticed, as a slight smile appears on Jisungs face before he nods at you, saying, “Okay, now gently go down like you would and stop at my hand.” 

You do as you’re told, with Jisung’s eyes settled on your concentrated face following his orders, as the face of your racket meets his fist, the white of his knuckles colouring for a bit. 

“See, you’re hitting the front of my knuckles, but that will send the shuttle forward.” He demonstrates by pulling his fist back, “That will give the other player a better opportunity of retaliating.” He then readjusts your racket by the throat, having the net hit the top of his fist. “This gives you a better chance.”

“But like, how am I giving them a better shot?” 

You’re not sure what was funny or amusing about your question, but it seems that there must be something there for Jisung to sport a cute small smile, as he picks his racket back up and moves to one of the set-up nets, and funnily enough, you find yourself following him subconsciously. He picks up a shuttlecock on his way to the net and positions himself, as you stand at his side.

“See, let’s say the shuttle is coming at you this way,” He holds the shuttle with one hand as if the opposing player had shot it at him over the net. “If I hit it the way you had— actually, why don’t you try receiving the ball.” And so you shuffle over, standing opposite of his ready stance with your arms crossed, intrigued.

“I’ll throw the shuttle back to you and try seeing if you can hit it back.” You realise that this is the most you’ve heard him speak in the past five weeks that you’ve attended the class together. You bring your hand up and stand in the ready position you remember coach telling you about when initiating a game, and Jisung takes that as a sign that you’re ready and hits the shuttle at a moderate speed. You hit the ball back with ease, as it goes over back to Jisung’s side, who catches it with his other hand. You let out a long ‘ahh’ sound of understanding, hand clutched at your side. 

“You’re right, that was hell easy,” You brood aloud, but not before asking one of your other endless questions. “But then, how would the other way be any different?”

From the looks of it, Jisung seems over the moon that you asked such a question, holding back a smile by biting on his lips lightly and quipping his head to the side. He holds up the shuttle and looks at you, gauging to see if you’re ready to receive the ball once again. As you regain your ready position, you see the ball suspended in the air briefly before Jisung hits it at the ‘better’ angle, which is seemingly from the head of it, but before you can process anything else a zip sounds past you and the ball has landed behind you.

Your gasp resonates through the hall as you look behind you to where the shuttle has landed, with a hand coming to your mouth as you look at Jisung. The latter contains his smug smile behind his own hand, as you point at the ball and look back and forth. “What did you just do?”

“Ah, that’s a technique that's called smash.” You falter slightly.

“That’s a weird fucking name I’m not gonna lie,” You glance at the ball once more with a look of disgust, before shaking yourself out of it. “Oh my god, that was so cool.”

You didn’t think that you would be getting a one-on-one lesson when you decided to stay behind today, but you’re quite surprised with how he was able to spot such a little detail so quickly. And that gives you an idea.

“Jisung,” You call his name for the first time since you met him five weeks ago, which surprises the said man, as you see his eyes startle and a few strands of his hair jerk. “Do you stay after class every week?”

He’s a bit quiet for some time, processing your question thoroughly. He nods his head briefly, but not before a bit of hesitation. 

“Is it . . . Can you help me improve?” You’re a bit shy now that you voice your question out loud, but you’re determined to move up at least one rank and land second place; or even just have a good academic score, even in badminton. 

Seeing the blank face that Jisung is now sporting, you think about the unfair offer you’ve just made to him. Why would he spend his extra time after class to teach you, his potential competitor, without getting anything out of it? You’re not sure what you can offer him, maybe some sort of payment? But before you can ponder even more, you catch a slight nod of his head from the corner of your eye.

“Is that . . .  a yes?” You lock eye contact, as he nods his head once more but with more vigour and confirmation. 

“Why?” It’s your turn to look at him with confusion.

“Are you asking me?” He points to himself, as he slightly tilts his head as if he was going to look as if you were talking to someone else. You shake your head quickly once he asks the question, raising even more questions.

“Actually, no. I take back what I said. You said yes, right? You can’t change your mind. Or, I mean you can but like I would be pretty bummed about it because you already said yes but I’d respect your choice.” You take a deep breath in once you finish, looking at him and clasping your hands together a bit too harshly.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll help you with what you need.” Relief washes over you and you can’t help but smile in thanks.

“Oh, and there’s one more thing too.” Jisung hums for you to continue, as he goes towards his bag and retrieves his bottle to take a sip.

“Can you teach me how to smash?” And maybe you should’ve waited for him to be done with that bottle first.

You think you’re quite good at being subtle and on the low, no matter how much Juda and Chenle counter that argument. You can be sneaky if you put your mind to it, and it's been proven many times in high school when you would sneak your favourite snack during the middle of the class without your strict teacher finding out.

So you’re not sure where you went wrong when you held out a snack bar in Jisungs direction, only for the whole court to look at you weirdly. You merely strutted up to him with maximum placidity and poked out the bar from your hand into his torso, looking away and hoping he would get the memo and take from you as with a mutter of something that sounds really close to the word ‘thanks’.

But it’s been a solid fifteen seconds and not only is the bar still in your hand, but everyone in the class has slowed down their activities in favour of looking at you two. Even coach’s staring as if he’s trying to solve a very complex puzzle.

“Is this . . . for me?” Jisung’s voice comes out as a rumble, not knowing if he should whisper or talk normally, sounding out something in between instead. 

Of course this is for you, idiot. Why am I holding it in your direction??

You ignore his question and shake the bar in your hand with a bit more intensity, hoping that he would finally get the memo. It isn’t until ten more seconds pass that you lose all hope and turn to him, grabbing his hand and placing your gratitude in his open palm, closing his fist around the energy snack.

You stomp your way to start your warm-ups before Jisung could say anything.

“When you aim your hand, you’re not really looking at the shuttle,” Jisung starts after a few rounds of one-on-one games you’ve started after class. “Your eyes are just hovering around it for a few seconds before you look around and put yourself in position. You’re supposed to go in position without looking, it should be intuitive.” You huff at his explanation, dropping your hands by your sides.

“How do I ‘look’ at it more, then?” You’re grateful that Jisung is helping you, but it’s just the tiniest bit unnerving for him to recognise your every move and be able to point out your mishaps. He moves back from the net, creating a decent amount of space in his playing circle. He starts throwing the shuttle up with his badminton racket, the distance from the shuttle and its net growing with each hit.

“Practising this move helps,” He says as he works through what you remember the coach demonstrating the first few classes. As the shuttlecock goes higher and higher with each impact, your eyes catch on the silver of skin poking out as Jisung lifts his hand to meet the shuttle, his shirt rising for a few seconds every time. 

“I think it would be better if you looked at the shuttle?” His words catch you off guard, as you look up and meet his gaze already settled on your, eyes gleaming as he pokes at his cheek with his tongue. 

“Shut up,” You look away, flustered that you got caught, before attempting the moves, refusing to look back at him.

The condensation of the electrolyte drink is addled with the dampness of your hand, as you make your way to class the week after. You see Ryujin talking to the coach as you enter, and Jisung at his bag, seeming to ruffle through it in order to retrieve something. You strut your way up quietly, not wanting to attract any awkward attention by giving gratitude in the form of a drink to your unofficial instructor. As you open your mouth to call Jisungs name, the tall man turns around and gives you the faintest hint of a smile, before his eyes land on your hand.

“Hi, here.” You spout, as you extend your hand straight towards him, some of the condensation dropping on the floor and finding solace in the gaps of your fingers. His hands feel dry and warm as it brushes against yours, retrieving the drink from your grasp.

“You didn’t have to. Thank you; for last time too,” Your cheeks heat up at his words as you avert your gaze away, opting to look at the playing net instead. “Don’t mention it,” Your damp hand wrings against the dry one behind your back, as you slowly let your gaze wander back to Jisung, who’s now looking at the blue bottle in his hand.

“Did you know,” He twists the drink in his hand and looks at what you think is the nutrition information. “Electrolyte doesn’t actually help when you exercise.” Your expression sullens as he continues to look at the drink you gave him. “Your body loses more water than electrolytes when you exercise, and so there is no use consuming more electrolytes. Water helps way more in comparison,” The scowl on your face makes Jisung stop in his tracks as he looks up after finishing his bite-sized lecture.

“Well, if you’re so ungrateful—” You reach your hand out to snatch the bottle from him but are stopped short as his hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you. “No!” He exclaims and a chuckle slips past as your struggle to get the drink, reaching out your other hand before he captures that too, now both of your wrists trapped in his hand. Your eyes widen, with your wrist bound and fighting up a struggle, all impaired with Jisung’s hand wrapped. Before your mind can wander to what other scenarios can result in him bounding up your hands, he continues; “I’m very grateful. You don’t have to give me these things just because I give you a few tips after class.”

You pause your struggle, letting your hands be weighed down. “Well, I don’t think I’ve been helping you at all. Sometimes I even set you back, so it’s the least I can do.” You say truthfully. You do sometimes feel like a burden when Jisung gives you a tip and you don’t adapt immediately, sometimes it takes you maybe two after-class lessons until you can successfully cast back the shuttle over the net with a short distance. The only way you could think about paying him back was through these pick-me-up snacks.

“Okay, how about this,” You miss the warmth and pressure of his hand against your wrist as soon as he lets go to put the drink down behind him and straightens back up, looking away as he slowly grows flustered with what he’s about to say next. “Treat me to ice cream maybe?”

You smile at his antics, happy to have been told how you could repay him. “Deal,” He visibly deflates with relief as you zealously agree, putting your bag down next to his as you both start to unpack. 

You shuffle to the bathroom as soon as practice is over, giving Jisung a quick point towards the direction you’re going to ease his worries about you running away. Once inside, you’re met with the cool breeze and a mirror that reflects your spent figure. Oh god, how were you gonna go out like this? Is this what you looked like this entire time? Shuffling to the sink, you shoulder your bag back as you lean over the sink and lightly dab at your face with some water, before cleaning yourself up and dabbing the paper towel against your face. 

You don’t know why you were so nervous to do this; it’s truly just some ice cream with your temporary and unofficial coach. But you truly wanted him to see your gratitude, and soon enough you’re thinking if ice cream isn’t enough, and budgeting how you can come up with enough money for an all-you-can-eat buffet at this time of the night. But before you could even add up the numbers on your fingers - it was a two in one hand and three in another, not quite sure what they meant - the sound of the door opening echoes in the bathroom, jumping you out of your reverie. 

Turning around, you just catch Minji stepping in, looking taken aback at your shocked expression, as if you weren’t expecting anyone to enter this public bathroom. “You okay?” She calls after you, and you can only hope that the smile on your face is convincing enough.

“Yup! Just . . . tired,” You cringe a bit at the overused excuse, but your shoulders slump when she just smiles back at you. 

“It’s okay, maybe your date with Jisung would cheer you up?” You feel something lodge in your throat, coughing out in surprise.

“No!” You retort, hands coming out from behind you as if to stop all ideas from forming. “We’re- It’s not like that. He’s just-” Minji looks at you with amusement, as she shifts her weight and crosses her arms, urging you to continue. The mind blank you’re sporting is not at all helping with a way to express what you truly are doing with Jisung, and so you try: “I just owe him something for smashing his racket.” And that was the best you could do.

Minji’s smile falls, as her arms drop at her sides. “You . . . smashed his racket?” 

You don’t know why her voice was laced with such concern, but you figure that you have to finish what you started. “Yeah, to pieces actually. Sometimes the adrenaline truly gets to you, right?” You chuckle a bit, trying to find a gap in the conversation where you can squeeze back out of the bathroom.

“Well, I’ll see you next week,” You clench the strap of your bag and exit the bathroom, ready to dart out of the place. As you turn a sharp right, you are immediately met with a sheet of white, which suspiciously looks like the colour of the shirt Jisung was wearing today. Hands are placed at your shoulder and you’re quickly set back half a step from the wall, or at least enough to recognise that it wasn’t a wall, but rather Jisung’s tall figure.

“Sorry,” you mutter, eyes flicking from his own to the arms stretching to your shoulders, catching a few veins adorning his forearm. A clear of his throat has you looking entirely away, as you grab at his wrist and start tugging towards the exit. 

The white lights of the LED sign of the ice cream place illuminate most of the dark street, with most businesses having closed earlier in the day save for a few convenience stores littered with tired college students like yourselves. You eye the shop and its extravagant decor, sceptical about being brought to such a high-end ice cream shop.

“You know, when you said ice cream, I thought you had wanted me to buy you some popsicles from some convenience store. Not someplace about exorbitant ice cream with fifty years of craft in making,” You nudge your elbow a bit to Jisung’s side, to which he responds by twisting his head in your direction.

He splutters, “Oh, I’m so sorry I forgot that, you know you were gonna pay,” You notice his hands move as he speaks, something you’ve picked up from when you would talk to him or notice him talking to coach; it’s as if his words are spelt with his hands first and then brought out through his lips, now adorning a pout as he tries explaining himself.

“. . . I thought we were just, going out.” Your eyebrows raise a bit in surprise at his words. Going out? As in, going out on a date? 

You wonder if your thought bubble is something he can see, as he quickly puts out his hands again, shaking them vehemently. “Not on a date! It’s just, I didn’t know what-”

“Jisung, it’s okay. I was just messing with you,” You decide to put him out of his misery, reassuring him before continuing, “I’ve never been here but I’ve been meaning to try it out, so I’m glad you suggested this place. Let me treat you to something good,” And without thinking, you link your arm through his and push through the door, the cool of the interior washing over both of you. The shop was mostly white, with white tiles placed as half-walls as well as the flooring, the only hint of colour being the green of a few plants and of course the various ice creams. The employee, who seems to be the only person in the shop, straightens up ever so slightly at the sight of the two of you entering, before slumping back down when you head towards the self-serve ice cream booths. Picking up two cups, you hand one to Jisung who’s at your right, before you pick up the scooper from a mini bucket of water, waving it around your choices.

“Tell me which flavour you want me to pick out for you,” You eye the various flavours of ice creams, seeing if you can find your favourite. You look at Jisung to see if he’s doing the same, only to see his eye zeroed in on one bucket which is contrastingly fuller than the different flavours around it.

“Mint chocolate ice cream?” Your question has JIsung nodding his head as he looks at you sheepishly. “I can’t believe you would choose the most controversial ice cream. You’re so original.” You tease, to which Jisung nudges you in retaliation.

“It’s a good flavour, if people stop comparing the mint and the chocolate and instead choose to see how much they complement each other, we would be one step closer to world peace.”

“That’s a bold claim, what’s your source?” Jisung grabs the scoop out of your hands with mock aggressiveness, opting to scoop his serving of the mint chocolate ice cream. “Your references? Where is your citation—” He cuts you off by placing his hand on your mouth after taking a scoop of his ice cream, as his chest meets your arm. 

He shushes you, “Just get your ice cream, yeah? I’ll go get my toppings,” He nods and lets go of your mouth, missing the way your cheeks heat up from his proximity and touch on your face. You bring the back of your hand to your face, prying the heat to go away as you shake your head and pick the scooper back up, reaching for your favourite flavour of ice cream.

Meeting Jisung at the counter, you place your cup of ice cream next to his on the weigh and fish through your bag as you wait for the person behind the counter to calculate your total. However, as soon as you probed your wallet out of your bag, the sound of a completed transaction peals out, making you turn your head up just to see Jisung putting his wallet back into his sweatpants.

“It was supposed to be my treat,” You insist, looking towards Jisung’s direction to generate some sort of guilt for his action. Instead, the man avoids your gaze, picks up two spoons, and places them in your cups, grabbing yours when he spots you not budging from the corner of his eye and turning to head for the door. You grab at his sleeve to force out his reasoning but are slowly pulled with him as he heads out, quickly turning around and bidding goodbye to the staff before he opens the door.

“Well, maybe you can pay next time,” At the mention of another time of you and Jisung hanging out, your initial sorrow washes over by a wave of giddiness. 

“Then give me your number,” You propose, fishing your phone out. “So I can see when you’re next free and make it up to you,” With wide eyes, Jisung’s hands hesitate as they reach out for your phone; before either of you can second-guess yourselves, he takes the phone and smiles shyly, typing in his details. Handing the phone back to you, you take a look at his contact before pocketing your phone as Jisung starts to speak.

You scoop a spoon of your ice cream into your mouth to hide your smile, but from a light chuckle that emits from your left side, you don’t think your efforts amounted to much.

You stretch your arm to reach the end of your leg, warming up your body before the mass class warmup, more so to have something to do instead of staring at Jisung who’s also here early and is also doing his own unique sets of warm-ups. 

Nothing about badminton is sexy; there’s nothing sexy about moving your wrist just in time to deliver some sort of groundbreaking delivery with the shuttlecock. Even the word shuttlecock grosses you out, as you suppress the urge to shiver at this very moment. 

So you’re not sure why the act of playing badminton with the wall is such an attractive sight to you; as Jisung grunts every now and then, seemingly surprised and unprepared by his own backhand delivery against the wall, which makes him take quick steps back and forth and side to side to meet each hit. His quick movements allow for his loose clothing today to move around freely, exposing toned skin every now and then. It takes a lot of your willpower to have you not to drool right then and there, as if you were back in high school once more.

One hit, in particular, bounced off high and far from the wall, the sound of the shuttlecock smacking against the wall echoing louder as it heads for Jisung’s left side, a direction that you’re situated in although with a safe amount of distance. The tall player retaliates by turning his body a whole hundred-and-eighty degree, facing away from the wall and essentially towards you as he tries to continue his streak of hits. Briefly, you see his eyes look at you and back at the shuttles descend, but his focus on the said thing falters when he looks at you again, realising that you’ve been watching him play. 

The shame of being caught should’ve arrived by now, as your shoulders stiffen with being onslaught by Jisung’s intense gaze. But before the chagrin could fully settle in, Jisung has completely passed the point of positioning his racket, causing the shuttle to fall and bounce off of his head and onto his feet. Gently clasping your hand at your mouth, you stop your giggles at the warning glare that Jisung sends to you; although his flushed cheeks aren’t making it any better.

“Say something and see what happens,” He points at you with the tip of his racket. You remove your hand and open your mouth, curious to see where this goes.

“Are you really gonna say something?” He steps closer to your figure, which is now sitting cross-legged on the ground with both hands placed on top of one another in front of you. He drops his racket on the ground, as if it doesn’t cost a limb, and instead places his hands right above his knees, looming over your figure. You can’t help it this time when your gaze follows towards the gap in the collar of his shirt, showing the sharp cut of his collarbone peeking through. It’s when your gaze is caught on his chain necklace dangling from his neck that the sound of a basketball bouncing echoes closer, as both of you look towards the direction it’s coming from. Not long after, a boy no older than ten shuffles in with his shoes squeaking against the floor, looking shocked at the fact that the two of you are here. 

The ball lightly hits Jisung’s calf, who simply picks it up and passes it back to the boy who’s seemingly frozen in place. As soon as the ball arrives at his own feet, he quickly picks it up and dashes out of the place. 

“Do you wanna bet to see who can reach past their toes?” Your question snaps Jisung out of his thought. The boy chuckles and sits down to your right, stretching out his legs and shaking them out as a form of warm-up.

“You’re so on,”

Your hands are clasped behind your back as you strut up to Jisung, who’s at his bag, taking out his needed items. With a tap on his shoulder, he turns to face you, giving you a smile as a greeting before scanning you.

“What are you doing this time?” You gasp in mock offence.

“This time? I haven’t even done anything yet?” 

“But you’re going to,” He points his fingers at your hidden hands. “You’re either gonna scare me or pull the lamest prank ever known to date.” Your smile drops and a scowl replaces it instead. 

When Jisung fully turns to face you, you smile once more and lean your shoulders in. “I actually brought you something to thank you. Again.” You shift the item from your left to your right hand, feeling nervous and embarrassed for saying it all out loud. “Because of you, I can hit a backhand serve and not smack myself.” The boy stands taller with your gratitude, a blush sporting on his face as his eyes look anywhere but at you. You must look like high schoolers confessing to one another with the way you’re both flustered and shy, which isn’t a thought you’re fully opposed to.

He nods his head, still avoiding looking directly at you, as he reaches his hands out, ready to receive what you’ve brought for him. You giggle slightly as he shuts his eyes and shakes his hands in anticipation, “Since you said electrolyte drinks don’t really help, and you like your proteins after class, I thought of a better third option and brought you,” You reach your hands out and place the gift on his palms, urging him to open his eyes.

Cold and dripping with condensation, the plastic water bottle perched on his hands seem small as his hands close around them to keep from falling. His eyes fall as he looks dimly at the bottle in his hands, and you look away briefly to keep from laughing straight in his face.

“Now I know what that kid felt like when he got gifted an avocado for Christmas.”

“Wait,” Chenle plops down next to Juda as he says this, but is quickly shoved to the other end of the couch with a complaint ‘It’s too hot for you to stick your gross body next to me’.

“What’s his deal then?” 

“What?” You turn to look at Juda first as if to check that you’re the only one confused. The furrow of the girls’ eyebrows proves the fact that you aren’t alone, as you both look at Chenle with visible empty thought bubbles surrounding you.

“Well, he’s a badminton prodigy according to you. Seems to have surprased all the basics and is just a step away from being a professional.” The initial shove and retort from Juda barely set him off, as he goes back to his original position and maybe squeezes himself even more to her side and pulls a spoon out, digging into her tub of ice cream.

“Why is he still coming to class if he’s qualified enough to teach you?” Unfortunately, for once Chenle does have a point. You’ve thought about this a few times at the beginning of the semester when you were a little more than irritated by the fact that he joined the class and made you rank down a notch; ever since he agreed to lend you a hand, you’re sometimes even happy when you see him come in.

“He has a point sadly,” Juda waves her spoon towards Chenle’s direction. “If he’s as good as you say he is, why bother coming to class?”

“Maybe you should ask him that on your next date,” The boy wiggles his eyebrows at you, squealing out a laugh when you pull your fist back in a threatening manner. 

“Maybe I will,” you blurt out, attempting an aggressive tone. Before you could let anyone, even yourself, comprehend what you said, you pressed play on the tv and snuggled up to Juda’s arm on her right, with Chenle leaching off of her to her left. 

“The things I put up with,” She huffs as she stabs her spoon into her ice cream tub, feeding you diligently.

[WEDNESDAY; 10:37 PM]

you: you

jwisung: ?

jwisung: what happened to hello

jwisung: ‘how was your day’

jwisung: wheres ur decorum

you: shut up you dont even know what that means

jwisung: :(

you: >.<

you: are you free this saturday at 9

jwisung: you mean

jwisung: the saturday 9pm where we just finish our badminton class?

jwisung: idk i gotta check my schedule to see if i have a badminton class around that time 

jwisung: omg wait are you gonna spoil me 

you: 😐

you: yes but not anymore

you: bye

jwisung: WAIR

jwisung: pleahse im soreu

you: not forgiven <3

you: i know this place that actually has good mint choc ice cream

you: not too minty not too chocolatey 

jwisung: you rmbrd that i like mintchoc?

you: dont do this to me

jwisung: okay i wont 😁

you: good boy

jwisung: …

you: ?

you: oh! 

jwisung: no

you: ill remember this too 😋

Your bag is bigger this time when you go to class, having packed an extra set of clothes and a towel to have a quick rinse after class before your not-date with Jisung. Arriving just in time for the warm-up session, you’re met with gloomy faces left and right. Plopping your bag down next to Soojin’s, you whisper when you ask, “Why does everyone look like they’ve been kicked?”

She looks up to you with a pout adorning her features. “Coach declared today a ‘cardio’ day. Something about wanting to boost our stamina or whatever the fuck.” She sighs as she shoves her stuff back into her bag, sadly shuffling across the court to do her designated warmups. You grimace as you follow, hoping your travel-size soap is enough.

Turns out Coach’s definition of cardio was way more intense than what you remember your gym friends raving about, as you put your hands on your knees to keep yourself from collapsing. A whistle from the coach signals a shift in your rep, making you change stations and do the next cycle of workout.

“Coach, how much longer are we gonna do this—”

“Until I start sweating, Jaemin. Now keep up!” Coach demands, which is absurd, because he isn’t doing anything but watching you do push-up planks and try not to collapse.

“Okay, stop,” He blows the whistle once more and you fall to your hands and knees, with everyone else modelling a variation of your position. Haechan’s high-pitched groan startles you, but not as much as the coach’s yelling that follows after.

“Don’t sit down guys! Sitting down after exercise is terrible for your stamina,”

“This sounds like some facebook myth my mom would tell me,” Ryujin pants as she shoves her fringe out of her face.

Coach smiles as he claps this time around. “You guys were great today, well done! As a gift, you can only do the stretching cool-down activities and I’ll finish class earlier today,” At that, the class erupts in out-of-breath cheers and barely lasting claps. 

You look to find Jisung, just to see how he’s holding up after this exercise round from hell, and you find yourself more than relieved to see him affected for once. Halfway through class, he’s opted to take off his hoodie, which left him in a white shirt and navy sweatpants, with sleeves bunched up to show his biceps and their carvings. The sight of him adorned with sweat and panting sends a twist to your stomach, and you’re quickly reminded that you’re supposed to go out with him after this.

Shuffling to your bag as quickly as you can with the ache pulsing through your legs, you’re about to head for the courts' public showers when you’re met with Jisung’s figure. 

“You can’t leave that easily, I have to try that ice cream,” He murmurs with a crooked smile. You smack at his shoulder.

“I wasn’t gonna leave, I wanted to take a quick rinse before we go out. That cardio really did a number on me,” Jisung falls a bit quiet at your words, as you visibly see him suddenly deep in thought. Before you get to question it, he beats you to it by straightening up and looking directly at you with an idea in mind.

“Why don’t you come to mine?” You blanch at his words but aren’t allowed to react more than that as he continues. “I live really close, and you can just use the shower before heading out. You have your stuff with you and I need a rinse too.” He points at your bag behind you, making you flush and subconsciously move to cover up your efforts. His idea doesn’t seem too bad, and you think this could be another excuse for you to make up to him. Let’s go out one more time because I used up all your hot water. Couldn’t think of a better idea. 

With a nod and a smile, you’re quickly guided out of the building shoulder to shoulder.

Jisung’s apartment really wasn’t far at all, as you arrive at the complex within a five-minute walk from the sports grounds. Living in a two-bedroom apartment with his roommate, who Jisungs said to have gone home this winter season, the place looks relatively clean with the effort of one person living in the area. He directs you to his room, where you place your bags and pick up your clothes before he points towards the bathroom.

“You can use my shampoo and soap, they’re both in some type of white bottle. Don’t use the blue ones because they’re my roommates’ and he has a sixth sense when it comes to these things,” You salute him and shuffle to the bathroom, trying your best to be as quick as possible to not leave him waiting and to not actually use up all his hot water. The bathroom was just slightly messy, with towels stacked on one another in a haphazard manner and shaving bottle caps abandoned and soap remnants staining the sink, you feel warm with the idea of getting to see this side of Jisung. A university student trying his best, not some badminton prodigy.

Rinsing your body one last time, you close the water tap and open the glass door of the shower, reaching out your hand blindly to retrieve your towel. After a few seconds of mindlessly flinging your arm and only coming back with a bang of your knuckle against the metal towel holder, you don’t really recall pulling out the towel from your bag, much less hanging it anywhere near the bathroom.

“Oh my god, why today?” The cold of the world outside the shower cubicle washes shivers over you as you open the door wide enough to fit your head around, scanning to see if there’s any alternative you can use instead. All you’re met with is bundles of toilet paper rolls stacked on top of one another and used toilet paper rolls dumped into a basket haphazardly. Your panic settles a bit quicker as your mind blanks from solutions, but not before a knock is heard through the door with your name being called.

“Yes?” You hide the waver in your voice as best as you can, closing the glass door just a bit more.

“Is everything okay?” Jisung’s voice rumbles through the door. Your hand flies to your body, suddenly feeling exposed with the reminder of Jisung’s presence. Slipping back into the shower, you raise your voice as much as you can to be heard through the door; “Yup! Everything’s fine. Just . . .” It’s just I’m dripping and naked in your house and the only remedy is a towel, which I don’t have.

“I noticed you forgot your towel,” The muffle of his voice cuts you out of your trance, “I can give it to you— I mean of course I won’t look! I can just— maybe I’ll stick my hand in?” You laugh slightly at the fact that he’s just as flustered as you, before replying with an agreement. 

As he opens the door with the smallest gap to fit the towel and then his wrist, the cold air of the outside reminds you again of your stark nakedness, one hand going across your chest as you reach your other to grab at the towel. With a skim of your wet fingers against his warm and dry ones, you retrieve your towel with a shy thanks, as Jisung quickly goes to close the door.

While getting ready as quickly as you could in the bathroom, your mind was filled with thoughts of how you were supposed to face Jisung after that whole incident. You couldn’t think if it was better to joke about it and get it over with or forget about it and have to come back one day for some form of closure. You hoped there was no need for closure.

But before your overthinking could get to you, Jisung regarded you like he would any other day when you stepped out of his bathroom — with a shy look and awkward hands — and you immediately relax, shoulders slumping as you go up to him, slinging your bag over your shoulder. Jisung’s eyes flit towards it, but not for long before he opens the door and lets you lead the way.

The trip to the ice cream store was a short one, requiring only a train ride to the han rivers’ skirts where the shop is situated. The store itself was busy with people sitting all around snacking on its offerings, but once you get your respective ice creams and head out back towards the river, it’s a bit quieter; a breeze slips past you as you wrap an arm around yourself. With spring in the air, the trees’ full bloom flowers scatter around the pavement and are imprinted by the soles of your hoses as you walk by.

Finding a bench by the tree, the two of settle down on it, as you turn and face Jisung in anticipation of his first try.

“It’s really good, trust me. And it’s like a bit thicker with its mint rather than the chocolate bits which is a bit hard to do when you eat mint chocolate ice cream because it’s always the chocolate that's richer and you get si—” a spoonful of your ice cream is stuffed into your mouth, spluttering you to a stop as you glare at Jisung whos laughing at your expression.

“I had to shut you up one way,” You fist your hand at him in faux aggression, pulling out your spoon and placing it back into your cup.

“Just eat it quickly before it melts,” You exclaim with a hurried expression, feet bouncing up at down in anticipation. Jisung glances at you while he picks up his spoon, prodding at his ice cream before he picks up a spoonful of his ice cream, slowly bringing it to his mouth as he looks at your expression. He only laughs and detours his spoon once, bringing the spoon back up to his lips when the expression on your face shifts to a deadpan.

The pink of his lip contrasts with the mint colour of the ice cream dripping slightly from the spoon, as he finally fits the ice cream in and gives it a taste. Looking at his eyes with suspense, Jisung’s default expression of scepticism is what you see first, before it shifts into surprise, into confusion, and finally into the same expression as a kid getting candy. The glint in his eyes shines bright in the dim lighting that you’re in, as Jisung points to the ice cream while he continues consuming the ice cream.

“It’s good,”

“Of course it’s good. I wouldn’t bring you to try good mint chocolate if it wasn’t actually good mint chocolate,” You stifle a giggle when Jisung throws you a glower.

“You know what I mean,” At his positive reaction, you comfortably dug into your own ice cream, a comfortable silence blanketing you two with background noises of cyclers whizzing by and people talking in the distance.

“You’re doing really well,” Jisung starts with his eyes darted away, suddenly shy to look at you as he says, “In badminton, I mean. Your overhead shots are cleaner than mine.” Eyes still averted, he elbows you lightly with his compliment. You preen at his praise, leaning forward subconsciously to him with a thank you.

“It’s all thanks to you. If you weren’t as good as you are I wouldn’t even know that there are two methods of serving the shuttle.” 

Jisung’s laugh sounds less humorous, “Yeah, it must’ve been weird seeing me play alone during class,” There's a heavy pause as you visibly detect the boy sort through his next words. “I didn’t think you guys were . . . fond of me. When we first started,” You feel your stomach go white, colours flush from your face from his words. Did he know? Were you that blatant? You feel bad, remembering how isolated the boy was at that time as everyone distanced themselves since learning his level of expertise. You weren’t any better, the bitter feeling you harboured when you got ranked into the third group now coming back to you after three months of attending practice.

At the glum expression on your face, Jisung quickly goes to wave his hand. “Ah, it was— it wasn’t your fault or anything. I secluded myself too, so of course it would’ve been hard to talk as comfortably.” He rests his hand on yours that’s pressed against the bench, comforting you as if you’re the one whos been wronged, and not the other way around. Frowning at his consolation, you don’t know what comes over you as you flip your hand around, making your palm face his as you clasp his hands in yours.

You avoid looking at his expression as you make your bold move, looking at the river as you start. “If it makes you feel better, Jaemin always talks about how jealous he is of you whenever you do a smash,” Gathering the courage, you squeeze his fingers as you look at him, another question popping up in your head.

“Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to, of course, but—” You cut yourself short when Jisung nods his head at you, looking at you with a calm demeanour.

“Why do you still come to class if you’re already so good? I mean, I swear you’re at national levels at least,” Jisung snorts at your words, growing shy from your praise.

“I’m being serious, don’t laugh!” Even as you say your words with furrowed eyebrows, your efforts barely last as you smile at his bashful posture. Puffing his cheeks, he ponders a bit on how to answer your question; you’re about to tell him to just forget it, not wanting him to answer something so personal, when he straightens his posture and stares ahead with a determined expression.

“The first time I played badminton was at a family gathering for new years, and I might’ve been four or maybe five when my dad put a racket in my hand and swung my arm around to hit at the throws my cousins would send my way. Then when I got older and was forced to play actual sports in school, the only thing that I was willing to play was badminton. I didn’t try hard in the beginning and was there because I heard that the teacher conducting it didn’t really care,” You snort at the picture of young Jisung barely lifting his hand to play, or letting the shuttle zoom right past him while flinching away entirely.

“But when the interschool competitions came around and I was ranked in the last group to play, I had won by pure luck,” He rubs his hands up and down his pants as he reminisces, shoulder rubbing against your subconsciously. “And then everyone started cheering me on because apparently, my accidental win had helped us accelerate to the next round. It made me feel good that I was the cause of such a thing, so I tried a bit harder the next time. Then I asked the higher ranking kids to help me with my serving, and then my mom to admit me to a badminton class, and I ranked up from F to D, and then to B and then A. My class started to admit me to local competitions outside of school hours, and then it had become such a big part of my life that I was determined to get to a national scale.”

“Did you?” Your voice was quiet when you spoke, ending with a bit of a rasp from its lack of use. You were on the edge of your seat if your position meant anything, arms wrapped around your knees, thighs pressed to your chest, making the waistband of your shorts dig a bit higher. Jisung’s smile is a sentimental one, reminiscent of a win resulting from years of effort.

“I was fifteen when I was cast by a racket sports centre, which focused on training people ranging from kids to young adults to get to national competitions and even more. I was over the moon and became one of those kids you barely see in class and when you do, they’re just sleeping through the subject. My first competition was scheduled three months after my admission, which was unheard of; even kids who have been learning at the place for two years would struggle to pass the first rounds for the entry.” Your eyes move along Jisung’s hand, as he comically explains his words through the movement of his fingers, expanding and collapsing joints onto one another.

“I didn’t win the first one, but I won the second, and the third, and built a streak - although short, just four months into training. In the beginning, it was all so exhilarating, the thrill of winning the title of first place with all these people who were just as gifted, if not even more. And so I would win because I was capable, I didn’t win because I was it was expected of me.”

“But,” You murmur as Jisung halts, bringing his hand down as his fingers fiddle with the texture of the bench. 

“But,” His excitement has burnt down to a sort of nostalgia, and you reach your hand down and clasp your hand over his again, before he looks down and turns his hand, palm facing yours as he links your fingers together. “But then, when I was seventeen, I had passed the initial rounds for the national Olympic competition. It was big news; our centre hadn’t had someone do that in decades, and that was when the pressure was tangible.

“My parents would schedule my day down to the minutes, and my coach made my diet strict, telling me what exactly I should eat each day until the competition. I loved the order and agenda that was set for me; I didn’t have to think what’s next? I just had to keep doing what I was good at. But then came the first round of the match, and the people were ruthless. No one was there to watch two teenagers play badminton, but instead fight for their lives. I didn’t think much about it until my third round that day when the kid I was playing against deliberately tried to hit the ball to my face.” 

You couldn’t help it, your laugh had spilt out before you could even think of stopping it, but Jisung’s squeeze against your hand assured you that it was fine, as he chuckled with you.

“Who the fuck practices hitting the ball at someone's face?” Your voice was pitched higher with exasperation. “Do you reckon he had a cardboard cutout of you to practice on? I doubt someone can do the calculations of face-hitting range that quickly under pressure.” Jisung contemplates your idea teasingly, tilting his head and measuring random angels with his free hand. Seeing that, the weight of your hand held against his now weighs tenfold, as the butterfly in your stomach flutters with the subconscious squeeze of his fingers. You bump at his shoulder as you squeeze yourself closer, bringing your linked hands to rest against your stomach, wanting to hold him closer. 

“It was definitely weird, but it didn’t set me off my rhythm, I just thought that it was a way to rile people up. But my coach was the one irritated, and when the boy had almost hit my eye, that was when my coach started to interfere,” You can only imagine the noise surrounding seventeen-year-old Jisung, his coach stepping forward to halt the game and talking to the referee to take some sort of action, pointing accusing fingers at the opponent and their mentors. 

“The place that we were competing at was big, bigger than what I was used to back then, and there were a lot of people and so it was noisy;  but the noise that my coach and the kid were making was something else. When my coach came back to me, all riled up, I couldn’t do much but take in his energy. I remember being very tense, thinking that I should just step my ground a bit more next time ‘round so they wouldn’t think of doing something like aiming the shuttle at my face.

“I think it was either the fifth? Or the sixth round, when I was in the zone of playing ‘professionally’ rather than doing what I was already good at. I would do overhead deliveries and front-hand serves even though I’d rather do a simple back-hand. Then there was an opening for a smash, it was a weak point for the guy— and I was over the moon with the opportunity. I’d only done the smash successfully maybe enough to count off of my fingers, but I knew that if I timed it right I would get it,” Dread fills your stomach at the direction that Jisung is going, You’re sure if you clench your fingers any harder there would be an imprint left of the poor boy's hand, but Jisung either doesn’t notice or simply doesn’t care.

Jisung’s chuckle drifts lightly in the air, “I was too enthusiastic, and I bunched up all my energy into hitting the ball that I’d missed the perfect time and instead had delivered a simple overhead. It would’ve been okay otherwise, I mean, I was able to deliver something instead of losing a measly point, but before I could recover, the shuttle had travelled to the back end of the court, and in my attempt of getting it, I’d tripped and landed pretty badly,” While telling the story, Jisung’s free hand had been wandering over his clothed knee, fingers fiddling with the fabric and one another. Bunching up the fabric at the end of his pant, he pushes up the lax fabric up and over his knee, where a pink and slightly faded surgical scar paints the inner side of his knee. Your hand clasps over your mouth once met with the scar, and your heart fills with admiration as you see him trace his healed gash with sentimentality. Bringing your linked hands to rest on your knee, you prop your cheek against it while looking at him, sparkling eyes encouraging him to continue.

“I couldn’t play anymore after that, not with the same vigour I had before. Suddenly I had to go back to class regularly and didn’t have to do any sort of reps just so I don’t fall behind on my weekly plan. My schedule had more free time than anything, and so I had enough time to get to thinking; what if I hadn’t misstepped? Would I have won? But I knew that all of that thinking wouldn’t do me any good. So when I was watching the Olympics months later, I remember seeing the camera pan onto the coaches, and how happy they were to see their student playing. I missed the joy of playing for the thrill and adrenaline of moving around, and so I thought, why not become a coach?” Understanding fills you as you realise why Jisung is going through all this effort of attending a class that he’s exponentially overqualified for. His cheeks go red as he realises your gaze settling over his figure, now looking away from you and onto the still water. 

You can’t help it, you find it simply so endearing that he’s set his time into achieving something to allow people to have fun with badminton. Feeling overwhelmed with affection from his story and words and actions, you lean over and place a peck on to his cheek. 

The contact was brief, as your lips barely took in the smoothness of his skin before you’re coming back with a start. “Oh my god, Jisung. That’s so cute, you’re generous and you’re going out of your way to do such good things, and you didn't deserve to go through that at such a young age—” Your words were smushed together as you barely reach the end of your sentence, the cause being Jisung’s big hands gently attacking your cheeks at once. His wide eyes stare straight at yours as his colder hands warm against the puff of your cheeks; and you are seconds away from voicing your confusion before you see his gaze settling on your pouted lips, glistening and redder from the ice cream. 

You couldn’t even smile teasingly at him, as his hands refrain you from doing so. The nervous adrenaline running in your vein might be another reason too, but you don’t get to ponder on that for long before you see Jisung’s tilted head leaning closer, hooded eyes glancing at your eyes before focusing back on your lips, wanting to imprint it’s cute pouted shape.

The warmth of his lips lands on your cold ones, sending a wave of warmth to wash over you. You can feel his desire through the pressure of his lips against you, his soft lips fitting over yours lovingly. You mourn the loss as soon as Jisung pulls back, but not for long before he presses another close-mouthed kiss, this time with his hand tilting your head the other way, fingers slipping and cupping your jaw gently. Your stomach warms as you feel the fervour within Jisung, from the tip of his cold fingers on your heated cheeks to the push of his body towards you, wanting to get closer with each passing second. 

When he pulls back, his eyes are clouded with the haze of your kiss and a bit of timidity. Your giggle bubbles between you, causing him to smile along with you, his shyness catching up. Not wanting his hand to stray far as they fall from your face, you clasp at his palm and lace your fingers, pulling down to get his face closer to yours, placing a peck at his nose first, scrunched from being bashful, and then one on his lips. And another, and another, then it’s him who’s leaning in and slotting his lips against yours, and you’re pulling your linked hands behind your back and let go, opting to slot your hand behind his neck.

After two, three, and four more kisses to the cheek, forehead and lips, you tuck your head into the junction of his shoulder and neck, feeling shy from doing all of this in public. Jisung’s laugh is sweet to your ears, hands rubbing up and down your back before brushing at the ends of your hair. 

“Give a warning next time round, will you?” You tease as you pull back, hand falling on his forearms, eyes looking everywhere but at his.

“Sorry, you just looked too cute. I felt this sudden urge to either bite you or kiss you,”

You pull back even more, hands coming up to shield yourself in mock reservation. “I don’t know if I should be thankful you chose the second option or fear for when the first option will happen,”

Jisung hums, “Maybe both?”

Your pinkies are linked as you walk along the river, basking in each other's presence as you talk, shoulders brushing every now and then. It’s when you’re both childishly debating about who had fallen first when Jisung suddenly points his finger at you accusingly.

“Is that why you forgot your towel?” His question comes out more genuine than anything, as he tilts his head quickly in thought. With a light gasp, you smack at his shoulder before your arm falls back and crosses on your shoulders, scandalised. “I didn’t!”

“Was that how you were gonna seduce me? By forgetting your towel and having me bring it to you? What was next, you wanted me to lotion your legs for you too?” You can tell he’s teasing this time around, as his tongue pokes at his cheek ever so slightly to withhold the grin that was blooming across his features.

You point your finger at him, catching on. “You probably distracted me with your whole ‘which bottle of shampoo’ debacle just to make me forget it.” Poking at his chest with eyes squinted in suspicion, “You wanted to see me naked on the first date? That’s not very decorum of you.”

Jisung scoffs and rolls his eyes at your accusation, shoulders squaring to better defend himself. “I don’t need to go through all of that just to get to you,” He throws you a quick glance from the corner of his eye, a rush of giddiness washing over him with the look of your flustered expression.

“You’re right,” This time, you’re looking at his lips as you say this, catching Jisung off-guard with your compliance. Moving closer, you rest your hands on his arms, pushing yourself up and closer to his body, chests brushing. Your voice, barely above a whisper, brushes against his ear, “It’s gonna take a lot more than that to get to me, baby.” 

You know the smile on your face is menacing if Jisung’s gaze on you is anything to go by, partly annoyed and part timid. Ghosting one of your hands down his arm, you slip your fingers in between his and give them a squeeze, giggling as you swing your arm back a forth a bit like a school couple.

Jisung’s next sentence takes a bit of effort to say if his demeanour is anything to go by. With his gaze settled on your intertwined hands and a slightly open mouth— as if to say something, you give his hand another gentle squeeze to encourage him. 

The gleam in his eyes looks more assured as he straightens his posture and looks directly into your eyes, giving your hand a squeeze back. “Do you wanna go back to mine?”

Leaning in, you give another peck on his cheek, his scent pleasantly wafting through your nose. “I’d love to,”

You can feel the tension grow with the sound of the door closing and sounding its locking chime, toeing off your shoes as you look up at Jisung. He reaches out a hand towards you once you straighten up, pulling you close and guiding you towards the door of his bedroom.

Like the rest of the house, Jisung’s room is clean but still spotted with signs of use, with his desk having papers and laptop wires strewn around while a plethora of empty hangers are placed at the foot of his closet. As he sits on the bed, with his hand still holding yours, he tugs you forward, his free hand going to your thigh, clasping above your knee. 

His eyes glisten as he looks up at you, “This okay?” his touch ghosts on you as he asks this. You nod your head, wanting him to touch you, needing him to touch you more. His fingers grow bolder and heavier in weight, as his hand clasps at the back of your thigh, bending your leg and resting it next to his thigh. Understanding his movements, you follow suit, settling yourself on his thighs with your linked hands resting on his stomach. He leans in and presses a soft kiss against you, easing in with feathery light touches. The slot of your mouths against each other starts a small fire in your stomach, as you push yourself onto him more, needing him to know that you crave more. 

He sighs against your lips as you settle down more, the pressure not far from where he wants it the most. He kisses you feverishly, the smack of your lips growing louder with each plant of his lips. His touches grow heavier as his fingers go from grazing against your knees to tracing lines up your thighs, barely a touch away from settling under the seem of your skirt. Knitting your fingers in his hair, his hand flies to your love handles, squeezing them in an attempt to ground himself. A sigh leaves his lips when you separate just the slightest bit, taking a breather as you kiss the corner of his lips, hands falling from the ends of his hair down to his collarbones and at the bottom of his shirt. Your spread your fingers on the skin of his stomach, nails skimming ever so slightly making Jisung’s breath hitch, his stomach tensing under your touch, eyes still closed as he takes in your touch, his stomach knotting from finally being able to do this with you.

With his grip already tight on your waist, he maneuvers you off his lap and sits you on his bed, crawling between your legs, making you open them and welcome him in as you lie down on his bed. He kisses you again, his hands now staking claim everywhere he can, pushing your shirt up to your ribs, fingers grazing against your bud form under your bra before he brings his hands down and kneads at your thighs.

“Jisung,” You sigh when he swipes his tongue against your lips. He takes your tongue in his mouth, humming against it at your call, its vibration sending hot waves down your body. His touches on your body take you higher, but you need more.

And so you say just as much, “More, give me more.”

“Fuck,” He sighs against your lip, “Yeah? Okay, I’ll give you more, anything for you,” Pressing one last peck against your lip, you see his body slide down your figure, his fingers going to unhook your bra as you arch your back. He groans at the sight of your breasts free from your bra. “I love your tits, so much,”  His hands are big against you, but they fit perfectly against the cup of your breasts, squeezing them together as he smothers himself against your cleavage. He licks a stripe of each bud, before focusing on your left one with his mouth, tongue lapping around the swell as he sucks, opting to circle his fingers on your other tit before pinching it harshly, making you keen against him.

You rake your fingers in his hair, petting him. “Such a good boy, you make me feel so good,” Your words make him whine against your breast, making his hip stutter against the mattress,  for some sort of friction. He releases one hand from cupping your breasts, opting to use one hand while his now free hand dances its way down your torso, unzipping your skirt and taking it off, before meeting the seam of your panties. With his pointer finger, he hovers a line ever so slightly on your slit, eyes wide as he glances at the pleasure breaking out on your face and the wetness of your underwear spreading.

He keeps his touch light, drawing circles on your clit through the fabric of your underwear, frustrating you. You huff when he uses the point of his fingers and presses the slightest amount into your hole, the fabric refraining you from feeling his direct touch. You pull at his hair that’s winded through your fingers, urging him on; he moans at the pull, getting the memo once he looks up at your face with an eye squeezed closed from pain or pleasure. Or both.

He licks at your entrance briefly through your panties, the heat and wetness making you moan, before his fingers finally fit themselves into the seam, sliding them down your legs. You feel more than see his gaze on your core, hooded eyes watching it squeeze around nothing as his fingers tease around it. He comes back up to you and presses his lips against yours, lips slotting together briefly before you feel his thumb rub against your sensitive nub, his middle finger prodding at your hole, eyes watching your face as he pushes the pad of his finger against you. You keen when his finger fills you, as he pushes his finger back and forth, his thumb following by pressing into your clit and pulling away rhythmically. He brings his head against your neck, licking a stripe against you before his teeth catch on your skin, lips wrapping themselves around you straight after, sucking into you before parting and finding another part of your skin to taint. He quickens his pace with his one finger, but it’s not enough, you can barely get enough of him.

Hugging his head that’s still tucked at your neck, you scratch at his scalp soothingly before pulling at strands of his hair. “Jisung,” You pant, “Another one, fill me up, please,”

“You want more?” He bites at your jaw lightly, before he pecks your lips lovingly, as if he isn’t trying to have you come undone with his fingers alone. You nod your head, “Please, I’ve been good, haven’t I?” You beg as your cup the side of his face, your eyes looking at his blown-out pupils, probably no different than yours.

Jisung gronas at your words. “You’ve been so good, such a good girl.” He pulls his finger out so just the tip of it hangs onto your gaping hole, before he joins in another finger, two fingers now filling you. You whimper out a thank you, hands clutching at his shoulders as he picks up the pace, hand now slapping against your cunt, fingers curling inside your sopping pussy. Your body feels like it’s floating and coiling into itself all at once, with Jisung’s unrelenting fingers contrasting his gentle pecks and scrape of teeth against your skin. Every few thrusts and squeeze against his fingers have his hips grind down, sometimes grazing against your leg, making you feel his hard-on.

You bring your hand down from his shoulder, curling it at the bottom of his shirt before tugging at it, mumbling the word off. He pulls back slightly and pulls his shirt off with his free hand while you help with getting it over his head. You scratch your nails against the lines of his stomach, eliciting a hiss out of his before you palm at the outline of his cock through his sweatpants. “You listen so well, don't you? Always doing your best,” You pant out, testing the waters as you tuck the tips of your finger under his waistband. His moan comes out higher in pitch with your words, hips jutting forward and into your touch.

“Good for you,” he breathes against your cheek, eyes squeezed shut at the brush of your fingers against his clothed cock, muttering another fuck under his breath, rutting into your palm for more. 

You’re losing your patience, as Jisung speeds up his hand even more, the pleasure bordering with pain from his pace and harsher bites Jisung plants on you, too far gone with pleasuring you to be mindful of his strength. 

You can feel your orgasm reaching, breath hitching and your stomachs coil tightening further and further. You wrap your hand around Jisung’s wrist, slowing him down slowly before prodding them out of you. You whine at the emptiness briefly but are soothed when Jisung plants wet kisses against your collarbone. You push yourself up onto your shoulders, making Jisung shuffle back slightly in order to not lose touch with you, Reaching over, you dig through your bag and pull out a condom, shaking it between your bodies to bring Jisung’s attention to it.

The sound of the plastic wrapper catches his gaze, “You’re gonna let me put it in?” He grabs the packet from your hand before gently pushing you back down. He kisses you again, seeming to not get enough, as he pushes his pants and boxers down in one go, his tip smacking against the soft lines of his stomach and leaving a glisten. The rip of the packet sounds before he rolls it on, and you shift closer when you feel the tip of his cock lined up with your pussy.

The sheets ruffle around you as Jisung comes down and places a kiss on your cheek before looking into your eyes. “Ready?” He asks, and with a nod of your head, you feel him slowly ease himself into you. The stretch feels amazing, as you both moan into each other mouths, your hands squeezing and wandering everywhere around Jisung’s shoulders, back, torso. 

Jisung sighs, “Fuck,” His grip on your waist tightens, the pressure turning you on even more, squeezing around his cock. “You feel so good, so tight,”

“Fuck, Jisung,” You groan out as he quickens his pace, the sound of his hips slapping against your skin picking up. “Fuck, you’re doing so well. Stretching me out so good,” Jisung throws his head back, eyes squeezing shut at the pulse of your pussy around his member. He looks back down, wanting to see the join of your bodies, pulling out till his tip, before ramming himself back in, losing himself to the blissful feeling.

The knot in your stomach tightens. “Jisung, I’m close—” You’re cut off by your own moan as Jisung starts rubbing at your clit again, building a rhythm to his thrusts into you. 

“Yeah? Fuck, let go baby,” He grunts as he bends down, his cock twitching inside of you as he kisses your lips before tucking his head back into your neck, lapping at your skin as he keeps up his speed with his fingers on your clit and his thrusts inside you. Your body curls up as your orgasm crashes into you, hands hugging at Jisung’s shoulders tighter as your thighs squeeze around his hips, keeping him in your pulsing core. Panting, you release your grip from his hip, bringing your leg down and patting Jisung’s head, wanting to kiss him again. 

As he pulls away from you, you lean up and plant a kiss on his lips, chest bursting with the affection you feel while coming down. Jisung pulls his cock out from you, going slow as to not overwhelm you. He pulls off his condom, not having cum yet as his cock smacks against his stomach, the precum from the tip joining the light sheen of sweat covering his body. He fists his hand around his cock, tugging and pumping himself to a finish. You’re too spent to give him a helping hand, but you decide you haven’t spent your mouth enough.

“Pretty boy, you’re doing so well,” He hunches over your body at your words. “Looks so good fisting your own cock like that,”

“Fuck,” He groans, “If you keep going I’m gonna—”

“Cum baby, make a mess on me,” You run your hand up his thigh, before pulling up and grabbing at his hair and combing through the strands. His moan comes out high pitched as his hips stutter into his fist, before a spurt of come shoots out and lands on your stomach. He twists his fist around the head of his cock as he milks it out, before heaving a sigh and slumping down, placing a kiss on your shoulder before he lies by your side, cupping his body into yours. You continue running your hand in his hair as he settles on your shoulder, his cheek poking out which makes you poke at it. A giggle is shared as the giddiness of you two being together in the moment settles in, and when you go to place a kiss at his forehead, you’re reminded of the wetness of sweat all over your body and the slowly drying cum on your stomach.

“Oh, let me go get something,” He gets up and goes to his bathroom, coming back with a few paper towels and a wet cloth. Rubbing down your spent body, he pats you dry with the paper towel before putting them away and plopping down next to you, wrapping his arm around you and tucking himself close.

“I didn’t know you were the cuddly type,” You say as you hug at his shoulders, hands rubbing up and down as a faux massage.

“Well, I mean, I can let go?” Jisung’s nervous front grows again, as he goes to put some distance between the two of you. But before he could get far, you wrap your arms tighter around his shoulder as you hook your leg around his, stopping him from pulling away.

“I never said it was bad; I like this girlfriend bonus.” Jisung’s hair bounces as he pops his head up to look at you.

“Girlfriend bonus? Does that mean you’re my girlfriend now?”

“Only if you agree to my boyfriend bonuses,” You shrug. He laughs as he places his head back on your shoulder. “What are these so-called ‘boyfriend bonuses’ of yours?” You tap at your chin mockingly as you think.

“You can fuck my boobs next time?” You shrug again. His head whips up faster this time ‘round.

“Are you serious? Don’t joke about it, because if you are I won’t be—” You smack your hands on his cheeks, squeezing his lips into a pout. His shoulders slump at your attempt of shutting him up, eyebrows drooping as he gazes at you, making you laugh at his expression as you squish his cheeks repeatedly.

“Okay, good job guys, take a water break.” Coach Son claps, as everyone shuffles to their bags and grab at their bottles. Jisung’s elbow brushes against yours as he grabs his bottle from his bag next to yours, taking a few light sips before he places it down, looking at you with his cheeks full of water. It takes all his might to not spit the water out as you elbow him back and raise your fingers tauntingly, moving closer as if you’re about to tickle him.

Before you can successfully begin your quest, Coach lets out a sound as to gather you guys back ‘round, clapping his hands twice before waving you guys in.

“Since we’re coming to the end of the semester and you guys have proved to work really hard, I’m gonna conduct one last test to see how much your levels have changed since the beginning of the semester!”

“Oh my god,” You whisper out to Jisung as your hand cups your mouth, wide eyes looking at his as his eyebrows raise in surprise. This could finally be the moment that you can prove yourself, advancing onto a higher level to have an overall better ranking.

“Who wants to go first?” Jaemin steps up and raises his hand, confidently wanting to prove his skills. 

He plays a round with the coach, showing signs of trying his best and knowing how to play, but his reaction speed comes a bit too late as he misses the shuttles by a step. Sometimes two. Sometimes he mixes up his left from his right, but that’s just occasionally. Minji and Ryujin play a round each, and show good improvement throughout the semester.

“You should go next,” Jisung leans into as he whispers, both of your gazes settled on the coach and Ryujin going back and forth with clears being delivered. Your blood rushes quicker at the thought of playing an official round, thinking of all the mistakes you can make that would cost you. 

Sensing your nerves, Jisung places his hand on yours, grabbing it before giving the palm of your hand soothing rubs. “To help with the nerves,” He says when you look at your joint hands questioningly.

“Alright, next player?” Giving your hand a light squeeze, Jisung lets go and ushers you forward onto the court, as you raise your hand slightly, grabbing at your racket once Coach nods you in.

Arranging yourself, you pick up the shuttle left at your side and get into your serve position. You hit the shuttle and serve, commencing the game. You are able to reciprocate most of coach’s deliveries, stepping left and right when needed and angling your racket to optimise your own delivery, but it’s when you’re halfway through the game with Coach Son’s and your score being eleven and ten respectively, coach starts playing with a more advanced method. The drops become more frequent, catching you off guard as you have to run from the back to the front of the court in order to make it to the shuttle, as well as the clears going in different angles making you almost trip a few times as you attempt to make it to them.

Jisung has his fist at his mouth as he watches you from the side, with everyone else in awe at how quickly you’re moving compared to the last time they played officially.

“How did she get so good?” Haechan questions with his hand pressed on his racket. The whole class shifts their head from left to right at the sidelines as they watch you battling it out with their coach, the shuttle relentlessly being delivered with neither of you wanting to lose touch of it.

“It’s the perks she gets for having an almost professional-level badminton player of a boyfriend.” Ryujin’s smile is devoid of any callousness, patting at Jisung’s shoulder as she says this. Jisung can feel his cheeks grow red as he splutters into his sleeve, hiding his flustered expression as the rest of them shout out their reactions.

“All credit goes to her, she’s just a diligent student.” 

“I can be diligent too,” Jaemin bats his lashes as he leans in from Jisung’s other side, but flinches and clutches at his shoulder when Soojin smacks him.

Back on the court, you’re starting to lose your breath when Coach delivers another serve to the back of the court, shuttle going straight as you attempt to create enough distance to successfully hit back. As he does a clear delivery, you position yourself at the back fo the court in order to meet his hit, before quickly centring yourself, preparing for his next move. From a steady pattern of his serves growing in your head, you were more than ready to reciprocate his short hit of the shuttle near the net, as you step forward and hit back.

Usually, you would’ve stumbled to hit the shuttle back at maximum velocity, sending it flying up and giving Coach more than enough time to think of his next move. But from your extra hours of playing with Jisung, you’re picked up the knack of delivering a short end with another short end, making the shuttle travel only the slightest bit over the net and plummeting down into the court. Coach Son is caught off guard when you do this, but his reflexes from years of practise kicks in, and before he could process his actions, he delivers a lob, sending the shuttle high in the air. Jisung gasps from the sidelines, making everyone alert.

He calls out your name, “Smash! Do a smash!” 

With your eye settled on the descending shuttle, you think back to the one class you had with Jisung.

“You hit a clear when the shuttle can meet your hand at twelve o’clock. You have to wait for it to drop to the same level that you’re hand would be at a ten o’clock position to be able to deliver a smash; but remember that you have to keep going with your delivery until your hand reaches six o’clock.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

You’re still not sure what he meant, but with the fall of the shuttle, you’re not really at the privilege of recalling things for a long amount of time. 

Positioning your hand at the first base, you wait for the shuttle to be at least a few inches from your head before you reach out, smacking at the shuttle and aiming at the bottom of the court. Coach, who was ready for you to hit the shuttle to the back of the court like you usually do, was not ready for the shuttle which was arriving at a quick pace. In a blink, the shuttle lands just past his ankles, and you’ve officially scored a point.

“Jisung!” You scream once the shuttle lands, looking at your boyfriend who was staring intently at your match. A look of victory glows across his face as his mouth drops in disbelief, eyebrows raised and fists clenched, over the moon at what you had just accomplished.

“I smashed! I did it! I smashed so hard oh my god, I think my arms gonna fall off,” The game is far from done for you to be celebrating like this, but you’re without care when the rest of the class cheers for you, Minji running up to you to give you a hug. You both start jumping with giddy while the rest join in, all while the coach looks at your huddled bunch with a smile on his face.

“This is Juda and this one is Chenle.”

“Why’d you talk about me as if I was a dog?”

“Because you are,” Juda shrugs before she plucks out a Yakult bottle from the packet in her hand, swingin it above Chenle’s face. “Who wants a treat? You do! Who’s a good boy?”

“Nice to . . . meet you guys too?” Jisung’s wave hangs mid air as he looks at Chenle slowly shift from a expressionless face to enthusiastically nodding his head up and down, wanting the drink.

“What did I tell you? You’ll fit just right in with us,” You link your arm through Jisung’s elbow, pulling him into your shared house with Juda before sitting him down on the couch. Juda and Chenle follow after, with the latter having his own bottle open and already emptied halfway. Juda offers Jisung yakult bottle, and goes to pick up the remote, going through the movies to put something on. You quickly grab a few snacks from the kitchen and come back, settling yourself right next to Jisung, leaving no space between the both of you.

“Wait,” Chenle turns to look at you from his positon on the ground, grimacing a bit at the sight of you two cuddled up, before continuing. “What happened with the new ranking then?” Your smile is shy when you look at him and Juda looking back at you expectantly. 

“I got into group B.”

“YES!” Chenle whoops, grabbing Juda and shaking her by the shoulders. “No more whining and complaining and whinging about the class!” You chuckle as you cheer alongside him, with Jisung looking at your interactions with raised eyebrows. 

Laughing, you tuck yourself into his side, linking your arms again as you rest your head on his shoulder. With Juda and Chenle bickering about settling on what movie to watch, you press a quick kiss on his cheek in appreciation.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” You smile at him, to which he grins shyly at. “Even though I lost, the smash pulled me through. Your smashing abilities were so flawless that even I, a young duckling was able to smash through,”

“Okay, thank you for the compliment but maybe don’t say how good my smashing abilities are—”

“You just smash so hard and so well—”

“Please—”

“Jisung the smash master!”

if you liked this, dont be afraid to tell me !

[armpirate]

Smut

Crack

Criminal jk

Humor jk

Rich jk

The female lawyer who need to babysitting jk so she can control for being stop at ex crimrnal

Can that be a hot and funny one show or whatever you choose?

Am always your number 1 fan

Well, I hope this was what you were asking for!

Devil's law || Jungkook

pairing: RichCriminal!JK x fem!reader || Criminal x Lawyer

w.c.: 7.1k

Warnings: MINORS DNI. smut, explicit content, mention of drugs, female masturbation, oral sex, teasing, unprotected sex

Aprox. time of reading: 31 minutes

MASTERLIST

I don't give a fuck about you anyways

Whoever said I gave a shit 'bout you?

You looked at your phone, knowing that his name on it only meant bad news. Ever since your friend suggested you as his lawyer, your job became more meaningless. You went from being an upstanding lawyer, who hadn't lost a case in two years, to becoming a rich boys' babysitter only because he wasn't able to control his impulses.

Jeon Jungkook was the Antichrist made person, your biggest nightmare and, possibly, your karma for being Judas in your past life -because there was no other reason you'd deserve to go through all the headaches Jungkook had put you through in the two months you'd been working with him.

His case grabbed your attention when you were first offered the job to defend him. You hardly ever were on the wrong side of the story, but there was something in that job that kept pulling you in. It could be how his life seemed to be brought straight from a movie.

His charges went from being caught driving under the influence of drugs, exhibitionism, damage of public domain assets... even attempted murder against his father. You remember watching his story on the news, and just clicking your tongue and shaking your head at the exuberant confidence he radiated as he walked down the stairs out of court with a smirk on his face. And it was of no surprise. After he managed to prove he wasn't the one guilty of his father's death -even after he was proved, and admitted himself, he had been feeding his father poison for days-, he turned twenty million dollars richer. It was never proved his father's narcolepsy was due to the substances his son was giving him secretly, so they all decided to leave it as a death caused by the car accident he was in.

And after he managed to dodge all that -or pay his way through all the trials-, he ended up on house arrest after he was caught with his hands on tax fraud. It wasn't an easy trial. You remembered how hard you had to play for it to work out. The judge wanted to eat Jungkook alive, and he probably would if it hadn't been for you and your years of experience.

It was a promise of good money, with the easiest of the jobs you had to date. The only thing Jungkook had to do was to stay at home, behave, and just let those seven months pass.

Little did you know that man was a pain in the ass.

The first time your phone rang with a cop on the call, because his monitor beeped after he tried to leave his home, you could understand where it came from. It wasn't knew, it could've been something difficult to understand for him... But the sixth time the call made no sense. You could only sit back and see how he wasted money on paying those cops to turn a blind eye and ignore what he was caught doing.

You saved him from jail, but you weren't sure if that was what he wanted.

His smirk infuriated you. You drove through the rain and wind, worried about him getting in trouble, only for him to look peaceful and proud of having you there. Although the boil of your blood was only shown with a roll of eyes and a twist of your lips.

"Look who came to visit me, Bobby"

That sentence alone was the most surrealistic thing you had heard. Not even you knew the name of that cop, but Jungkook for sure did. He had to. It was the only way to gain the confidence and appeal to their corrupt side.

At first, Jungkook tried to escape -saving his ass by saying he wanted to visit a friend and he wasn't aware of the bracelet having to remain around his ankle-, he just wanted to outsmart everyone and be free. But when you showed up every single time after that single call, rushing inside his place while looking for him, it unlocked a new need he didn't know he had. You kept feeding his ego, making him feel important, due to your expression turning more concerned every time you crossed that door.

And your outfits didn't help either.

Those tight dresses hugging your curves, or those buggy shirts at the top that exposed some of your cleavage were driving him insane.

He was sure he was already going crazy inside those four walls, but you were only making it worse for him.

Your red leather bag was thrown lazily over the wide armchair that led the living room, strategically positioned between the entrance and the coffee table to mark the beginning of his living room.

"I thought I was clear the last time" you tilted your head, squinting your eyes in a failed attempt to intimidate him. "Is it that difficult for you to behave?".

"I told you last time not to leave me alone" he insisted.

Oh, right... that dumb idea he had of you living in his mansion.

You had enough going there whenever his monitor made the alarm jump, the last thing you wanted was to be looking after him as if he were a little kid unable to follow simple orders. Although, now that you were thinking about it, Jungkook was indeed a 5 year old inside of a playboy's body.

He hissed at the cop, whose eyes only moved away from him to sneak on the edge of your dress down your knee. The middle aged man was alarmed, quickly turning his head back to his ankle before he finally got up from the floor.

"I'm sorry" you mumbled.

"Sorry?" he scoffed, walking past you "This dude is making me rich. Every time I come here, I'm closer to buying a new car".

Those were his last words before he left you two alone again, with Jungkook's eyes possessively moving over your body, playing with his lip rings.

"Is it so bad for you to stay here?"

Your head fell back with your ironic laugh vibrating through your throat, unbelieving of that question making its way out of his lips as if it didn't have an obvious answer "I don't know if you're aware that I'm your lawyer, not your babysitter".

You wanted to say you had a life outside of your job, but that wasn't entirely true. You loved your job, to the point that it cost you several relationships -and some other friendships-, with your sexual life being a non-existent topic for months for you.

"I don't understand what I can or can't do with this thing on my ankle" he pointed at the bulky black device, with an intermittent red light, around his ankle ", but you do understand".

"Anyone would think you'd have a master degree on it after being explained so many times" your hands found a place on your hips.

"Are you saying I'm making it ring on purpose? That's a serious accusation" it was the way he faked to be offended by you, and how he smirked immediately after his own comment. "It was an idea" he shrugged.

His gasp sounded heavy when he got up from the couch, walking to you like a predator towards his prey. You were in his territory, but little did he know you weren't intimidated in the slightest.

"I'll pay 10k more" he suggested, making you chuckle with his idea. "I see... 20?".

"Whatever you pay, it's not gonna happen" you cut off any chances before they were even possible.

Jungkook stepped so close that you were sure you could smell his cologne by just breathing, feeling how it touched your brain with such care that you were convinced you were going to pass out while you struggled to keep your eyes on him.

His hand felt warm as he supported it on the backrest of the armchair, allowing himself to bend a little more towards you to leave your lips centimeters away from each other "What's not gonna happen?".

Instead of playing coy, or feeling lost at his words, you smirked back at him, mirroring his pose to only witness his smile going wider and more mischievous. Jungkook was a sexy man, there was no doubt about that. And soon enough after you started working for him, his surroundings didn't take long to find a way into your life, letting you know of all the rumors that surrounded him. You heard all the wrong, just a little of the good, and enough of the things that had you squirming in your bed just by imagining him doing them to you.

He was the type of man you'd spend a good night with -if only he wasn't your client.

"The only way to keep you still here is tying both of your hands somewhere so you don't move".

"Why don't you tie me up somewhere and make sure I don't move?".

"Good night, Jungkook" you moved away, holding onto your bag as if that would save you from losing yourself to him, while your feet tried to find a quick escape from the small espace his living room had become. "Behave, can you?".

"Are you leaving already?" he sounded sulky, pouting his lips while making his piercing stand out even more.

"Don't you see?"

"It's raining"

"You didn't think about that when you caused me to come here in the first place" your tone sounded annoyed.

"It wasn't raining as hard"

As much as you wanted to fight back, he was right. In a matter of minutes, you could hear the drops crashing violently against the big windows to the small parking lot in front of the facade. And, as much as his house was soundproof, the roaring of thunder still was heard as a background noise that made you jump unconsciously. Adding that it was two in the morning wasn't a good mix.

As much as you were still determined to leave, it seemed like the universe had other plans for you when the power went suddenly off.

"The power went off" Jungkook casually pointed out.

"Yeah, I see"

"Well, better said, you can't see" your eyes rolled with that joke, crossing your arms over your chest as you looked around, finding out that it was brighter outside with the casual lightning than inside. "Wait, does this mean it isn't working now?" Jungkook pointed at his ankle.

"It goes by GPS, and I guess you plug it daily, it's still working as if it would regularly".

It wasn't your problem, you weren't forced to stay. But something behind that question made your stomach squeak, knowing that you'd be forced back in a matter of minutes the moment you crossed the door.

"I thought these devices worked with..." his gestures among the darkness made you frown, only being able to see them waving in the air, "you know".

"Maybe twenty years ago. But you're tracked either way now" you sighed. "Can you light up the fire? As much as I like not seeing you, it's difficult to have a proper conversation like this".

Jungkook didn't fight to hide his victorious smile after your petition, walking among the darkness to the fireplace that led his leaving room to, at least, bring back some clarity in the area.

The dim lighting gave it a warm and intimate vibe, while casting flickering shadows around the room, working with the sound of rain and occasional thunder to make it, somehow, that type of aesthetic video you'd find on her Youtube feed to relax herself after a tough day at work, lying in her double bed, while ignoring the big mess her studio was. That atmosphere made Jungkook look even more attractive, while wearing his pair of baggy jeans and oversized t-shirt, that marked his hips whenever he turned enough to pick the firewood from the small basket at his left.

"Did you have a date?" he randomly asked as you approached his couch.

"Why?" you looked around, slowly sitting on the extreme of the plush sofa.

"It's two in the morning, you're looking hot as hell... I doubt you use that dress as a pajama" subtle dimples showed up on his cheeks with his smile, feeling deeper by the shadows.

"Yup, a date with thirty files I didn't have time to classify yet" you mumbled, leaving your bag at your right, over the armrest.

He was pleased with the answer, and he wasn't bothered to show it. His smile widened with your answer, and his body seemed more joyful as he got up from the floor to walk to where you were sitting.

"Do you want something to drink? Water? Wine?"

"I don't drink while I'm working" you stopped him before he could further suggest anything else.

"Well, technically, you aren't working" he tried to convince you. "You only came here because of the monitor, and it's solved. Now you're staying because of the rain, so let's say it's just a major event forcing you to stay".

You didn't confirm it because you knew it was impossible, but it almost seemed as if Jungkook had full control of his surroundings to give you where he wanted.

"A glass of wine will be fine" you finally agreed.

While looking around, you noticed the small details you had always ignored whenever you were there. Like the way the room featured a warm and cozy ambiance, primarily due to the large brick fireplace which serves as a focal point -and that was then lit up to illuminate you two-, and strategically combined with a floor that appeared to be hardwood, adding a touch of elegance and warmth -while being partially covered by a large, neutral-toned area rug. The room had the perfect balance of modern and rustic elements, creating a stylish yet comfortable living space ideal for relaxation -which was ironic, because that was the most nervous you had ever been.

His walk was confident, carrying the two glasses of wine before he sat next to you on the couch, so close that you could almost have your knees touching. You didn't move away though, thrilled by the tickles in your belly by the proximity.

"I'm not sure if I should drink this" you randomly commented when he passed you the drink.

"What I said on that trial was taken out of context" he tried to defend himself. "I said I had been feeding him pills so he wouldn't suffer, not that I was adding poison to everything he drank or ate. He knew about those pills, because they were part of his medication".

"Right... " you squinted your eyes, waiting for any signs on his body language that could give out more than what he was saying.

Choosing to play it safe, you left the drink back on the table, resting your hands on your crossed knees as you looked around.

"I don't know what's worse" he suddenly said. "Interrupting a date, or knowing you were still in the office".

"We both know you wouldn't feel bad about interrupting a date" you mumbled, letting a sided smile decorate your face.

"That's right" he didn't hide. "But I don't understand what you were doing stuck in the office, instead of going out".

"The legal sector is really competitive" you admitted, crashing a scoff before you took a sip of your drink. "Either you're born with money to buy your way to the top, or you work your ass off for it. And I'm clearly in the second group".

As much as you were in a stable position, and you earned your money, it wasn't always that way. The beginning was tough, you kept moving from one firm to another, earning as much experience as possible so you could live the way you were. Not only did you have to add double the effort, you also had to sacrifice a lot from your personal life, which majorly included those casual dates you managed to have in your uni days.

"I don't expect you to understand what that is though".

"Wow, that comment..."

"Is it a lie?"

"No, but I feel offended for some reason" you allowed yourself to giggle lowly.

"You were born with it, yet you still find a way to test life instead of just enjoying your privileges" and that was what pissed you off the most about him.

You were so harsh with him. And, for some reason, that attracted him even more to you, unaware of when he started moving forward to close the distance between you two enough to breathe each other's air.

"Well, it seems like testing life has given me the best of the chances".

His eyes shined with a spark that turned everything upside down in your head, mixing your needs with your own warnings, trying to fight how bad you actually wanted to kiss him when the lip ring was able to shine through the corner of your eye.

"Is that a line you usually use?" you fought back, lifting your eyebrow.

"I'm pretty good at that, but it's not the case this time" he admitted. "You truly drive me insane, Y/n. Ever since I saw you walk through that door to prepare for the trial the first time. I've been unable to get you out of my head" his voice sounded deep, while his eyes moved down your lips to go back to drown into your pupils. "You're one hell of a woman. Just imagining your hair being spread all over my pillows is enough to have me on a twist".

Your lip was unconsciously trapped under your teeth, holding back your breath when you imagined the scene after his words. Was it something you didn't think about before? No. But there was something in the tone of his voice, that had you pressing your thighs under the tight dress you were wearing.

"So you want me?" in an attempt to fake some control, you moved forward.

"Honey, if I answered that question, I'd have to prove it by humming it on your pussy. I'm a man of action, rather than words".

It was the first time you felt so wanted by someone, to the point of them opening up that way to confess how they felt about you. It was also the first time you felt your skin burning the way it was, desperate to take off your clothes to set you free from the blistering sensation.

It could be that all the time you had been alone played a big role in your decisions, it could be Jungkook was a hot man and you fell for his enchants. It could be a lot of things, yet you didn't mind either of them when you closed the distance to link your lips together.

His palm felt soft on your neck as he curled his fingers to pull you closer, parting his lips to suck your lower lip and pull from it in such a sensual way you thought you were melting on the spot.

No wonder there were so many stories about him all around. That man knew how to kiss.

Jungkook was surprised when you moved first, but he was completely gone when you took the initiative from him, tilting your head to slide the tip of your tongue inside his mouth. He couldn't control the groan that had been burning his throat ever since you first kissed him, feeling his eyebrows furrow and his muscles going completely tense with such a gentle rub.

"You're all I ever think about, honey" he mumbled against your lips, taking the chance to deepen the kiss when he trapped you again.

You pushed him against the couch, straddling his lap while pushing your hair away from your face to look at him in the eyes.

"Why don't you tell me what you think about?".

Your arms were on both sides of his head, your dress was lifted to your hips -enough to expose the black tongue you hid under the fabric-, yet the only thing you could care about was how hollow his voice sounded while he told all the dirty things he had imagined with you.

"You want me to be honest?"

"The most honest you can be"

Jungkook smirked when given the green light to set free all those thought he had kept as a secret ever since you crossed paths "Remember the first time you came here. You were wearing a white shirt, and a pencil skirt that molded to your body so good it made me jealous. When you started handing out that script for the trial, your cleavage showed off a bit" his groan interrupted his explanation, feeling dizzy for a second when you pressed your clothed pussy against his crotch. "I had never in my life dreamed of some tits I haven't even seen, but I promise I couldn't stop thinking about them. How hard your nipples would feel against my tongue, how tight they'd press around my cock, or how good they'd look while bouncing while I fucked you".

Your hips started rocking against his semi hard cock, feeling your juices leaking down your hole, only stopped by the thin fabric of your thong that kept getting soaked with each move you made.

"And your ass..." before he continued, his fingers dented on the skin of your ass cheeks, pressing them together as he helped you hump him. "I couldn't stop thinking of it jiggling while you rode me after I first saw you in court. I had to ask for your name and number after I saw you. Shit, I even had to send the blonde with the annoying voice to get you to work with me".

Your movements suddenly stopped, the blush on your cheeks slowly disappeared, and devastation took the main role in your features when you realized what happened there.

You didn't get that huge case because your resume was brilliant, but because you became part of the horny fantasy of a spoiled asshole who managed to get your friend to convince you. And it went deeper than that. The man in front of you went the lengths to find out who you were, learnt about your closest people and got you exactly what you wanted. You failed to follow your values, you were clumsy enough to almost go to bed with a client -when it was something you strictly forbid yourself to do-, and only because you allowed yourself to get fooled by his sweet words.

"Where are you going?" Jungkook was confused at the sudden change of opinion, watching you hopping off his body to place the skirt of your dress back to where it should have been the whole time, while walking away from the couch.

"This should've never happened" you assured him, walking to get your bag.

"But it has happened" he insisted, frowning at your denial.

"Don't touch me" you warned him, raising your index finger, before his hand could even approach your forearm to calm you down "I have a lot to think about".

Jungkook didn't insist, he knew when it was time to give someone their own space, and how distressed you were was a clear indicator of how that wasn't the time to put his needs over yours -mainly because it'd only do things worse for the two of you. He only saw you go, crashing your heels against the hardwood, until he heard nothing at all other than the door closing.

His patience didn't last much though.

A day later your phone was overwhelmed by his calls, and several of his texts, which you could only fight to ignore as you tried to focus on your work. A failed attempt, because you could only think of him.

Your range of patience wasn't too wide either after a few days, with a dry and clear text that warned him how you were considering passing his case to one of your colleagues so your personal issues wouldn't get in the way of your work.

Unexpectedly, his calls and texts ended, he stopped insisting. Willing to respect her boundaries, he just moved away from her, aiming to maintain that professional relationship you said you wanted to have. It was her choice, and he wasn't going to force her into doing something you didn't want to do.

Yet, far from being relieved, you were left disappointed with his attitude. And that confused her even more. Before that night, you didn't see Jungkook as anything else but one more of the big range of clients you had, and you thought it'd go back to being like that after you ignored what happened that night. But Jungkook worked like a drug. One try, and you were completely hooked.

Your mind replayed that night in his house several times a day, the scenes of what could've been kept torturing you. Jeon Jungkook got control of all of your senses, and you weren't even trying to fight it back. You liked those thoughts, you liked the thrill the image of him caused.

And all of it annoyed you.

For the first time in months, you left work at time to go on dates, to get rid of the remains of his toxic details, only to come back home even more disappointed than before.

And that night was no exception.

You were looking at your phone, puckering your lips at the on going sex talk conversation you had going on, balked to realize it caused you nothing. His words didn't make your blood run through your veins, it didn't give you the rush Jungkook made you feel as you grinded on his pants... There was nothing.

Your fingers worked in automated mode, sending a pic in lingerie, thinking that would change the mood of the conversation to the one you were looking for, although you were left confused when the notification asked whether you were still there.

Double checking the chatrooms, you couldn't believe what you had just done.

The phone slipped your fingers towards the bed, as you covered your mouth in surprise of how out of yourself you were to do something like that.

Jungkook: I see you're finally aware you can't get away from me.

Not only was she clumsy enough to do that when she was supposed to pretend he didn't exist, she was grateful to have been that clumsy to cause that text from him -even if she was fighting the air while whining about it.

"What did you just do, dumbass?" you cried, covering your face with one of the plushy pillows that adorned the head of your bed.

It could've been something easy to ignore. It was just as easy as ignoring his texts again, and moving on with life as if that pic had never existed, but life was a big bitch to you when you needed the most to be treated nicely.

That same route you walked several times with superiority and professionalism was turned into a walk of shame, with your lips pressed against one another and your head hiding behind your locks with every step you took.

You were left confused when you saw Alan Jones engaged in an entertaining conversation with Jungkook. He was part of one of the direct competitors to your law firm and, more specifically, he was the person you confronted the most in court, unfortunately. He made your sweat go cold, knowing that the trial would be one of the hardest in your career because of how good he actually was.

And now you were seeing him laughing with one of your most important clients, who only offered a quick glance in your direction before he looked back at the suited man.

"Am I interrupting something?"

There you were again with one of your beautiful skirts, that time being a blue long pleated one, which you managed to combine with a simple white t-shirt. Even if you didn't want to, Jungkook was sure you were able to interrupt everything around you by just being present.

"No, we were actually waiting for you" Jungkook mentioned.

He silently led the way for you two, inviting you inside an improvised meeting room -that you could clearly tell it was meant for something else when you saw how off the setting looked compared to the rest of his house.

If you thought your blood was going to stop running when you saw Alan there, you confirmed it would when you saw your boss sitting in one of the extremes of the table.

"I'm holding this meeting, because I was considering working with Alan's law firm" Jungkook casually mentioned, as you took the free spot next to your boss. "That's my spot" he corrected Alan, who moved his body to the chair in front of your boss, so Jungkook could sit in front of you.

"And why's that?" you dared to ask.

"He came to me with a good offer" Jungkook shrugged.

"It'd have been great if you had told me before calling me for this meeting" you hissed, trying your best not to jump over the table to kill him.

"You've been so busy lately, I wasn't sure you'd be able to pick up my calls"

Your jaw was clenched tight after that comment, knowing of all the second meanings behind it.

"Why the change?" your boss rushed to ask. "Aren't you happy with Y/n?".

Your body jumped when you felt the tip of his shoe moving up your shin, lifting your skirt on the way while he reached your inner thigh. "I was really happy with Y/n" you gulped thick when he only teased you, moving his feet everywhere but the place where you wanted him, "but, as you know, this is a relationship of two".

After dragging your chair closer to the table to hide what was going on underneath, both of your elbows took a defensive spot on your side of the table, using your hands to cover your lips. There was a moment you went momentarily deaf when the tip of his shoe caressed you over your panties, making those known shiverings run over your body violently.

"Are you okay?" Alan managed to ask, aware of the weak blush that was starting to tint your cheeks.

"Shocked. I'm shocked" your thumb moved over your lip, before you hid your mouth again. "What made you believe I wasn't happy with your case?".

Careful not to hit your boss with your knees, your legs spread, earning a smirk from him. Adopting a confident pose, he sank his body deeper on the chair to be able to reach further, pressing his sneaker on your clit.

"I didn't see you comfortable".

It pissed you off to see him so relaxed and calm, while you were struggling to keep your shit together with every rub of his feet on your button. You could get caught, you knew that could cost you your career, yet you still played along because you liked how good it felt, you liked seeing how proud he looked when he noticed how slick your underwear was becoming.

His explanations turned into a simple move of lips, and the response from your boss was a blank noise that couldn't distract you from the knot slowly forming in your belly.

"Can we speak in private" you interrupted, before it could grow any more.

His movements stopped, and Jungkook went back to his initial pose, lifting his hands in resignation while you hurriedly got up after fixing your skirt. The other two men in that room were expecting you to either give up or insist on keeping that client, but Jungkook knew where that conversation would go as soon as that door closed.

"I thought you said you were going to respect my decision" you mentioned in a low tone. "So your solution is to call that asshole to replace me? And what's this meeting for, huh?"

"I was going to respect your decision, but then you sent that pic..." he quickly defended himself. "And since I doubt you sent it to confuse me or make me jealous, it clearly was for someone else. And I can't tolerate that" he twisted his jaw, finally getting up from his place. "It better have been a pic for me only and not for another person".

"It better had been?" you scoffed. "Who the fuck you think you're talking to?"

"Last time I sent you anything was six days ago" he slowly pointed out, "so it's a bit difficult you accidentally sent that pic to me if it was meant for someone else".

"It was a mistake".

"Is that the only word in your vocabulary?"

"When it comes to you, yes" you challenged him.

It was a mistake from you ever thinking you'd have any control on a situation that involved Jungkook. His aura was way bigger, those were calm waters for him, and he knew it, it was all over his body language and the way he looked down at you.

"Be honest with me, alright?" the way he pinched your chin to look up at him almost made your legs turn to jelly. "How did that pic end up on my phone?".

It was unfair how he was using the techniques you used in court against you, manipulating you with his insistent gaze.

"It was a picture for someone else" you admitted. "I didn't send it to him though. I ended up on your chat, and I don't know why I thought I was on his chat instead".

"You wanna know what I think?" his lip ring bulged out when he pressed his lips together. "You wanted me to see that picture. You wanted to admit you want me as bad as I do, yet you're so proud and stubborn you'd rather die waiting than correcting yourself" the truth in his words made you even more nervous.

"Jungkook, this can't happen... I..."

Your words got stuck in your throat when he trapped your mouth violently, sucking your upper lip first, and then moving onto the lower one. He moved, and you just followed. You walked blindly wherever he guided you, until your lower back hit the edge of the table.

"I'll fuck you into realizing you're only mine" he roughly said when he broke the kiss. "And, why not, let me fuck that pride out of you as well".

"My boss it's outside" you tried to stop him when his hands sneaked under your skirt.

"Then I'll need you to be really quiet".

His smirk was so addictive, that you were willing to do anything he asked you right there. The fabric of your panties slid down your legs, with the cold breeze hitting your core and making you squirm at the contrast.

Jungkook was attractive every day, his sex appeal radiated through each one of his pores, but that day he was at his peak. He knew what he wanted, he knew how he wanted it. He wanted you, on that desk, and you were going to give it to him.

His cock twitched under his boxers when he took your panties to his nose to be intoxicated by your smell, and you didn't know how to react to the way your body squeaked at the sight of his eyes turning black after that.

Your skirt was lifted over your pelvis, sticking it to your body as much as possible when Jungkook sank to his knees in front of you, turning your spine into boiling grit when the tip of his tongue pushed your swollen button with a groan. And that one was followed by another one, and another one, and another one... until you tried to move his face away from you, only for Jungkook to stick your wrist to your thigh.

"Ask nicely, and I might do it".

You tried to fight it. It was a challenge. You only had to wait for Jungkook to get tired of only sliding his tongue up and down your folds, and twirling carefully the tip around your clit. But you also weren't good at remaining patient and dealing with the nervousness it caused you to know there were two people outside.

"Jungkook, please" you tried to stop him.

"Please, what?".

"Fuck me".

"That's not enough" his lips twisted, not completely convinced with your words.

Grabbing him by the collar of his gray t-shirt, you forced him up at the level of your face, making sure he was looking at you in the eye while you spoke.

"Jungkook, fuck me right now" you demanded. "Because, if you don't fuck me here, I'll be the one fucking you on one of those chairs".

After his jeans and boxers were wrapped around his ankles, he slid his tip through your folds, feeling your warmth and wetness welcoming him, while your feet were resting at the edge of the table.

Jungkook was gentle and careful on his first thrust. First, letting his thick tip break into you, followed by the rest of his length until he was balls deep in you. And it sure felt better than he imagined, feeling in paradise when you wrapped around him tight, swallowing him in.

All your hair in your body raised as he invaded you inch by inch, feeling the fullest you had been in months, feeling the most wanted you had ever felt in years when your eyes met before he started moving again.

His big hands grabbed your thighs, spreading them a bit more and raising them up enough to leave your feet hanging in the air, completely in control of what he wanted to do with you, before he started pounding in and out of you with a, almost, relaxing movement.

"Honey, just for keeping your pussy away from me for so long I should be fucking you so rough and loud that you aren't able to keep your shit together".

And you knew Jungkook was able to do something like that.

"But I'll be a good boy for you, hmm?" you could only nod senselessly, not knowing exactly what you were agreeing on. "Just like you're being a good girl for me".

Your teeth were clenched tight when his thrusts were calm, yet so deep and harsh that you could feel your whole body bounce and move a few centimeters away, before he dragged you back to the initial position.

"You have no fucking idea of everything I will do to you now that you're mine" he promised under his breath.

"Any weird fantasy I should be scared of?" you tried to sound confident, but your shaky breathing exposed how rushed you actually felt.

"I'm spending twenty four hours inside this place. Every single day I come up with a new way to have you" he bent down to rub his lips against yours. "This is just one of them".

His thrusts changed the speed immediately after, changing the position of your legs to place them over his shoulders, hitting you deeper and strategically better when he angled his hips, rocking his tip against that rough spot that had your toes curling inside your stiletto. In that same position, you also managed to find a way to press your thighs enough to cause some friction on your clit, losing control of your body, throwing your head back and closing your eyes as the moan was burning your throat like lava.

As you held onto the neck of his t-shirt, Jungkook found a way to keep you quiet so you wouldn't have to struggle. The dorsal of his left hand blocked those moans from coming out. At first you were able to control yourself, only sucking on his hand while your watery eyes looked at him through your lashes. But as your orgasm was approaching you, the little control you had over your body disappeared, biting onto his thin skin to keep all those moans and whines only for you two.

As much as he'd have loved to hear your moans, he loved how expressive you turned while being forced to stay quiet. Pleasure was on each corner of your face, present on every feature; you showed him how good he was making you feel.

The continuous muffled moans, the tight clench you had around him, and how your eyes kept alerting him prepared him for your climax, keeping the speed just to take you there, and follow right after you when you gulped him in like you never wanted him to leave, at the same time your eyes went completely blank.

He spilled on you, painting your walls with his seed to let you know you belonged to him. As much as you fought it, there was no escape from what happened. Your days of running away were over.

While you tried to recompose, Jungkook put your panties back on, securing his load where it was before he helped you down the table. He knew you'd feel it leak out , he knew your head would only replay what just had happened, and he was sure it'd only lead to you wanting more.

He was going to deal with it either way. There was no point of rushing it, because you'd probably find out as the meeting went on and you could only fight a way to find the right posture until it ended.

You woke up in his bed, with the sheets barely covering your naked body while your head was sunk in his pillows. Ever since that day, you kept scolding yourself for fighting against what you wanted. Jungkook was the best experience you had ever had. He was sexy, but he was also attentive and sweet when you needed it. He was funny and entertaining. He was a man who knew how to keep people hooked.

You frowned when you noticed something strange around your ankle, feeling it bulky and rough, and cold, when you moved your tip toes over it.

It couldn't be...

Your heart almost dropped to your feet when you saw that red light inside the monitor, making you wonder how the hell he managed to place it there. And, when you unlocked your phone and read his texts, you could make a lot of sense out of it.

Jungkook: It'll be only for a few hours. I needed to get out of there for a few hours.

Jungkook: But it should also work as a punishment for flirting with that attorney in court, when your attention should've been only on me. Especially since the trial was ABOUT ME.

Jungkook: I'll be back before two.

You couldn't believe what you were reading. But one thing was for sure: you were going to kill him as soon as he set foot back in his house. 

[heavenlymorals]

Biblical References in Both RDR games.

I love biblical references so much. When it comes to literature, it's probably my favorite type of symbolism. Like I genuinely get so happy when I connect things to the Bible which is what I'm going to do right now 😊😊 I also like the way that religion is incorporated into RDR as a whole, including the main characters' reaction to it.

So yup, here are just a few references or connections that I was able to make in no particular order.

Also, some of these are complete reaches and I'm aware of that, but fuck it, it's my blog and I do what I want 💪🏼

- The character and tragedy of Issac. In the Bible, Issac is the child of Abraham who is asked to be sacrificed by God by his father as a test of faith. God eventually intervenes to save Issac because he only wanted to test Abraham's faith. Dutch is shown as a God-like figure to the gang, as their devotion is to him. Arthur, indirectly, sacrifices Issac by not being there and by following what Dutch wanted. Arthur, Issac, and Dutch are parallels to Abraham, Issac, and God.

- Leviticus is the book that comes after the book of Exodus. After the gang's escape or exodus from Blackwater after the Blackwater massacre, they are met by Leviticus Cornwall, who becomes the next obstacle for the gang. After the gang's exodus, they get in trouble with Leviticus.

- The image of the deer and a mountain. Psalm 18:32-34 in the Bible says, "It is God who arms me with strength, and makes my way blameless? He makes my feet like deers' feet, and sets me upon my high places." In Arthur's condemnation of Dutch, Micah, and their evil, he becomes steady in his identity and beliefs, like a deer's feet on a mountain, which is where he dies in the end. W symbolism.

- The mission "Sodom? Back to Gomorrah." In the Bible, Sodom and Gomorrah were two cities that were so morally depraved and evil that God decided to destroy the both of them, saying that if there was even one good person in those cities, he'd spare them, but there weren't. In those missions, you also do two evil acts, going from one and then BACK to the other. You rob the bank and then go BACK to collect the debt from Edith Downes. So you finish one evil deed and to straight to the next. This can also show how morally bankrupt Arthur's apathy made him at this point in the game.

- Micah's guns say "Vengeance is hereby mine." This could be a reference to Roman's 12:19 "vengeance is mine sayeth the Lord." Micah's violent nature makes him take his anger out on the world.

- "Your father is seduced by him with the forked tongue. It's no use hoping." The blind prophet to Arthur. Pretty straight forward symbolism, it's a nod to the snake that seduced Eve, just like how Micah manipulates Dutch.

- Dutch walking away from Arthur when he dies and though he realizes his wrong doing and feels shame, his pride forbids him from apologizing or saying he was wrong. This can be a parallel to how Adam and Eve run away from God when they feel shame over believing in the snake, but their pride won't allow them to apologize to God, hence damning them like how Micah damned Dutch.

- There were twelve ACTIVE gang members before the Blackwater massacre. When I mean active, I mean gang members who are canonically consistent (so not uncle, Swanson, Strauss, or the girls) on going on jobs for the gang. Micah, Bill, Javier, John, Hosea, Arthur, Charles, Sean, Lenny, Josiah, Mac and Davey Callender. Christ had 12 disciples and Dutch is portrayed as a savior to the gang, or a Christ like figure. And would you look at that, there is a traitor in both groups of twelve (Micah and Judas).

- Both John and Arthur's graves have scripture from Jesus's sermon on the mountain (Matthew 5:1-12). John's is blessed are the peacemakers and Arthur's is blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness.

- The go back for the money ending. If you go back for the money and have low honor, you'll see that the camp is engulfed in flames as you try to get the money. The fight with Micah is brutal and you die faced down in the dark. This death is an allegory for going to either hell and purgatory as you choose a final evil act of leaving your brother to possibly die just so you can get money as an act of revenge. If you have high honor, you are still surrounded by flames, but you still have a chance at heaven given that you die facing up seeing the light one final time.

- The help John ending has similar connotations. If you have low honor, you die by gunshot and are shrouded in darkness, which can symbolize the absence of God's light and how Arthur's final act couldn't absolve the lack of guilt he feels for the rest of the actions that he KNOWS are evil (click here for a my interpretation of Arthur's morality). In high honor, though, you get to crawl to the mountain side and see the rising sun, symbolizing heaven, warmth, and a new purity.

- In low honor, the coyote goes down to a dark cave, representing damnation and the rejection of holy light. In high honor, the deer steps into a heavenly field of light. Love that so much to be honest.

- Just the very Catholic vibe of Arthur's redemption. Doing good deeds, feeling guilt, all that.

- John's new life is basically this: "Let him who stole steal no longer, but rather let him labor, working with his hands what is good, that he may have something to give him who has need." -Ephesians 4:28. John gives up his old life to be an honest laborer, a rancher, and a proper man.

- The Strange Man in RDR rides on a donkey, which is pretty interesting because Jesus Christ also made his grand entry on a donkey.

- Just the Strange Man in general to be honest. Some say he's God, others say he's the Devil, and others say he's Cain from the Bible, which is my personal favorite theory but whatever.

- Dutch's horse could be a reference to Revelations 6:8- "And I looked, and behold, a pale horse! And its rider's name was Death, and Hades followed him." Dutch's rash actions caused the death of the gang and RDR's incarnate of Hades or Hell was Micah, following him. Dutch is the only one, canonically, to have a pale horse.

- "Am I prepared for eternal damnation? Am I passed any kind of saving? Or is that just fairy tales?" Arthur in his journal. I love this line so much because of its very agnostic nature whilst still showing the Christian mindset of 1899 America. This line also shows that Arthur is canonically agnostic which is a yippee from me because it's like the only thing me and this man have in common lmao 😭

- "Bad news awaits you, sir. Sadly, sooner than you think. But beyond the news, paradise awaits. Paradise.." Blind Man Cassidy to Arthur. Sorry but I just love that. High honor Arthur lived such an awful life but he still has a chance at paradise and heaven? Love that so much.

- God (pun intended), I love biblical symbolism. Couldn't you tell?

[taeggukxiie]

Since I'm broke and dumb I can't make a Spotify Playlist for them because I ain't got the app, so here's fifteen songs that make me think of dabihawks because I'm obsessed and I love music:

- The Smiths: Bigmouth strikes again

"Sweetness, I was only joking when I said I'd like to smash every tooth in your head."

- Radiohead : Creep

"I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo. What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here."

- The neighborhood: Daddy issues (OF COURSE.)

"I'd do whatever I could do. I'd run away and hide with you. I know that you have daddy issues, and I do too."

- Gracie Abrams: I love you I'm sorry

"You were the best but you were the worst, as sick as it sounds I loved you first. I was a dick, it is what it is, a habit to kick, the age-old curse."

- New Order: Crystal

"I don't know what to say. You don't care anyway. I'm a man in a rage with a girl I betrayed."

- Stray Kids: Silent cry

"The rainwater wells up, everything is complicated. The dark shadow behind your bright appearance can be shown to me, don't hide it from me."

- Lady Gaga: Judas

"Forgive him when his tongue lies through his brain. Even after three times he betrays me."

- The Weeknd: Until I bleed out

"Well I don't wanna touch the sky no more, I just wanna feel the ground when I'm coming down."

- Taylor Swift: I can do it with a broken heart

"Cuz I'm a real tough kid, I can handle my shit, they said babe you gotta fake it 'til you make it and I did."

- System of a down: Chop Suey

"Father into your hand I command my spirit, father into your hands, why have you forsaken me?"

- Agust D: People

"What kind of person am I? Am I a good person? Or a bad person? Many ways to judge."

- Imogen Heap: Headlock

"You say too late to start, got your heart in a headlock, I don't believe any of it."

- Halsey: Him and I

"He's out his head, I'm out my mind, we got that love, the crazy kind. I am his and he is mine, in the end it's him and I."

- Lana del Rey: Doin' Time

"Evil, I've come to tell you that she's evil, most definitely. Evil, ornery, scandalous and evil, most definitely. The tension, it's getting hotter."

- Mr. Kitty: After Dark

"I've given what I have, I showed you I'm growing. The ashes fall slowly as your voice consoles me."

[sniigura-archive]

imagine that somehow adam runs into judas or lucifer, and since adam is alone standing there (he is waiting for his family) they make fun of adam thinking that his relationship with reader in college didnt work "ha!, that bitch couldnt stand youre lazy ass, i knew it" and before adam could tell them to fuck off, reader appears with all of their 8 kids that go to hug him and judas or lucifer has the most WTF face ever and adam is SOO smirking while pics one of his kids in one arm and holds reader waist with the other. This encounter fills up his ego so much worse

that inspired me to write this. it’s like roughly 5/6 years post college graduation

cw/tw: pregnancy, children

Even though it was close to dinner and bed time for the children, the sun was still mercilessly beating down on Adam. He stood under the shade of a tree, his bag laid by the tree trunk.

The boys were on the playground, while you and Eden were at the restroom right now.

„No way! Adam, is that you?“ A familiar voice called out.

Adam turned around, Judas and Lucifer were really the last people he expected to see. Great.

„ 'Sup?“ He tried to sound as casual as possible.

„Adam, my old friend, what are you up to these days?“ Lucifer asked him, taking a good look at Adam. Since Lucifer and Lilith have been completely cut off, it must be hard for them to keep tap on him.

„Eh, you know. Have been here and there.“ The last thing he wanted was to share any personal details with the demons.

Judas smirked, which was a bad sign, „You here to pick up chicks? Lots of hot single moms around.“

Ah. His wedding ring was getting cleaned right now.

„You speaking from experience?“ Adam asked him back with a raised brow.

„Sure, buddy.“ The way Adam wanted to punch Judas for calling him buddy, „It sucks being single, don’t you agree?“

Why can’t they ask if he’s still banging you like normal people?

„Daddy! Do we really have to go home now?“ The 4 year old, curly headed girl asked him while running up to Adam.

Adam immediately went to bend down, picking up his first born. He gently pushed the hair out of her little face, smiling at her. Her hair was neatly put into french braids.

„Sweetheart, when your Mommy says we have to go home it’s time to go home.“ The girl pouted at Adam’s answer, resting her head against Adam’s shoulder.

She sighed heavily and mumbled out a detached Okay. The way Lucifers and Judas mouths fell open wasn’t missed by Adam.

„The children are too quick for me now. Being outrun by toddlers is really embarrassing.“ Lucifer and Judas whipped their heads back to look at you.

Your sundress hugged every curve perfectly, while your hands rested below your very pregnant belly. You’ve perfected the waddle at this point. Brushing past Judas and Lucifer, you let Adam wrap his arm around you to give your forehead a kiss.

„You remember Lucifer and Judas, right?“ Adam said to you.

You bit your lip at that, stifling your laughter, „How’s it going guys?“

„They’re here to pick up hot single moms.“ Adam told you with laughter.

You sided eyed both of the men, while they fumbled for words.

„It’s not like that!“

„Adam is just messing around…“

The silence was painful. Adam enjoyed it tho. You shifted around on your feet, while Adam went to rub a hand over your stomach.

„…How is the family life treating you both?“ Judas asked, his eyes focused on your stomach.

„It’s good. Nothing is more satisfying.“ Adam told them.

Eden started to squirm around in Adam’s arms.

„Can we gooOooo?“ She whined, rubbing her eyes.

You and Adam nervously exchanged a look. She was close to a tantrum, since it was getting late and she was tired and hungry.

„Boys! Let’s get going!“ Adam called out to the playground.

„There are more…“ Judas mumbled under his breath.

„Lili and I are also trying for a child right now! How long did it take you guys to convince?“ Lucifer tried to keep the chat going. He couldn’t come home without information for his own wife.

„We…never really tried?“ You nervously said.

The twin boys kept digging in the sand, not a care in the world.

„I fucking swear they have selective hearing.“ Adam grumbled out.

Putting your index and thumb together, you placed them under your tongue to let out a loud whistle sound. The boys whipped their heads to you immediately and started running towards you immediately. Even Eden turned around to look at you.

„Good boys! Thank you for listening! It’s time to go home now.“ You ruffled the twins heads.

„Aww. Really?“

„Mama, five more minutes?“

„No. Get going.“ You pushed them towards the way to the car.

The boys immediately started running again, pushing each other while screeching. Eden whined some more, and Adam let her down. She immediately forced her way in between her brothers, easily out running and pushing them.

„Let’s go. I’m pretty sure I have to pee again.“ You groaned, wrapping your arm around Adam’s. Pressing your cheek against Adam’s arm you looked up to him.

„Yeah, we also need to get those little terrorists into bed. It was..Sure fucking something seeing you chumps again.“

And with that you and Adam went after your children.

[augustjustice]

The Ole Harrington Charm

AO3 Link

For @steddiemicrofic | Prompt: charm | Word Count: 548 | Rating: G | CW: none | Tags: flirting, getting together

Steve is in a dry spell.

Well…okay, it’s technically not a dry spell. He’s going on plenty of dates, he just–can’t seem to find that special spark that tells him this is the one. 

Steve’s starting to question if he’s off his game, or something. If his flirting is to blame, that might explain why things are all downhill from there. 

“I mean…what do you guys think?” he asks Robin–and Eddie, currently loitering around on a surprisingly slow Thursday afternoon at Family Video. “Is there something I’m doing that’s just–not working?” 

“As someone who was there to witness the millions of times you struck out at Scoops, I can definitely say that what you’re doing now is leagues ahead of whatever that was.”

Steve huffs. “It was not millions, Robin. And, yeah, sure, okay, but if I’m so much better now…why doesn’t it ever work out past the first date?” 

Eddie slaps an uneven rhythm on the counter, pushing up from where he’d been slouching against it. There’s a challenging gleam in his eye, the same kind he gets when he’s struck with an idea for one of his campaigns. 

“Alright, big boy. Lay it on me.” 

“What?” 

“Come on, wow me with those irresistible flirtation skills that had the ladies lining up for you back in school, and I’ll tell you how you do.” 

What’s he got to lose?

Steve decides to lay it on thick. Might as well pull out all the stops, and besides…Eddie always hams it up when he’s pretending to flirt with Steve. Turning around is fairplay, or however it goes. 

Leaning a casual elbow on the counter, Steve turns his most charming smile on Eddie.

“Hi, there. I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before. And I would absolutely remember a face like yours.” Shooting Eddie a wink, he reaches out and tugs at his battle vest, brushing his fingers against Eddie’s chest while he gets a “better look” at his pins and patches. ”Judas Priest, huh? Not sure I’ve heard their stuff.” 

Maybe not the best tactic with Eddie, but that’s what he would do usually, bring up something the other person seemed interested in. Long gone were the King Steve days of ‘act like you don’t care.’ 

”Why don’t you tell me about them while I help you find what you’re looking for. You look like a horror section guy to me. And, you know, scary movies make a great pick for date night. Perfect to snuggle up to.”

“Lame,” Robin declares. “And cliche.” 

“No one asked you, Robin,” Steve rolls his eyes, “Eddie’s the judge here.”

Only then does he realize Eddie is frozen in place, a faint pink tinging his cheeks. 

“Nuh–” Eddie swallows, his voice cracking in the middle of whatever he was trying to say. “No, man, the, uh…Harrington charm is definitely not on the fritz. You’ve got nothing to worry about there.” 

“Cool,” Steve brightens, before adding smoothly, “So, Saturday, horror movie, your place?”

“Good one, Harrington.” 

“Eds,” Steve reaches out, covering Eddie’s hand, “I’m serious.”

“Saturday night, huh? Alright, Stevie, you’re on. It’s a date.”  

They’re both grinning dopily when Steve does a celebratory fist pump, not bothering to hide it. Shaking her head, Robin laughs.

Oh, yeah. He’s definitely still got it.

[januscorner]

Why I think Holyghost is T4T

So we know Grace’s mother respects trans people as she uses Ziggs’s proper pronouns, so it’s not to much of a stretch they’d accept a trans daughter. Grace’s main colors are Pink, Blue, and White (the colors of the trans flag) to the point where she even colors her sign that way

We don’t know that much about Max’s personal life however we can peace some stuff together. We know he has a bad relationship with his dad referencing his dad calling him “a little cuck” maybe because he doesn’t accept him, his reference to Judas likely means his family is Christian only adding to it (obviously not all Christians are transphobes but a good amount of transphobes are Christian)

He seems to be friends with Steph or at least former friends, telling her to get behind him at the Old Waylon Place and offering to protect her. While obviously guys and girls can be friends they’re relationship to me at least reads as childhood girlfriends after one transitioned (from my own personal experience as a trans guy) Also adding to the betrayal and him calling her Judas.

And finally Max’s over performance of masculinity. Max is stereotypical toxic masculinity in human/ghost form. I think it at least started as overcompensating so people see him as a boy although soon after he just went mad with power. Pete mentions knowing him sense the fourth grade, Hatchetfield is a small town so while there are a few different schools a lot of the people at Hatchetfield High probably knew him before he transitioned and maybe even told the people who didn’t. It’s really hard to get people who knew you before you transitioned, especially cis people, to see you as your gender. So Max becomes the epitome of toxic masculinity, they have to see him as a guy now. Plus it’s pretty common for AFAB trans people to lean hard into masculinity at the start of their transition regardless of how they actually want to look.

Also us seeing Max shirtless doesn’t mean anything sense it’s all in Grace’s head, Grace might not even be aware Max is trans (after all who would tell her she doesn’t have friends)

Edit: I just remembered, Pete is hiding from Max in the boys bathroom, if Max is cis there’s no reason Pete would be safe there but if Max can only use the girls bathroom…

[nynyhaha]

Spider Themes: Phantom Troupe and fate (plus Chrollo character song analysis)

THIS is the moment that lead tons of fans to believe that Chrollo is a determinist,or at least a fatalist,believing that certain things cannot be avoided and that people lack the free will to act otherwise.

I haven’t seen any other proof of Chrollo being a determinist and I think it’s not that relevant to his character so this idea being so popular annoys me,and yet,there are lots of time where Chrollo is confronted with the idea of fate.

Why doesn’t he blame Judas?

There are multiple ideas

-his betrayal was bound to happen and he had no free will

-regardless of will,his actions were justified because it resulted in the greater goal being achieved(and Chrollo sees Jesus’ death as as important as his own death in a scenario where the Spiders have to chose.Chrollo would want them to sacrifice him for the Spider,and this scene hints at that)

-anyone willing to betray the organisation for money or fame was never a true member

-Chrollo doesn’t take anything personally and he doesn’t judge other people for their actions because he expects very little of them (we know this isn’t true for his Spiders,but it seems to be that way with Hisoka. He doesn’t blame Hisoka for being what he is)

This point is also illustrated in the flashback chapters where young Chrollo doesn’t get angry at his bullies even once. He’s not mad at Uvo,Phinks or Feitan,he outsmarts them or outruns them,but still sees them as part of his circle and never acts aggressively.

He doesn’t even appear to hate Kurapika or care much for his motives,since he accepted the fact that people will come after him for a multitude of reasons. He doesn’t care how good those reasons are.

The prophecy

Neon’s prophetic ability is meant to help people see the potential future,it’s not presented as being self fulfilling,in which case it would be a scam. The idea is that you can gain knowledge of your potential fate,and chose the course of action accordingly.

Chrollo trusts the ability since he uses it to make important decisions,like whether to stay in yorknew.

If he can use it to his advantage and cheat fate,how could he be a fatalist??

Our will above all else

The phantom troupe is incredibly strong as a group,yet they retain qualities of underdogs. They were born in the most marginalised community possible,in a place that doesn’t officially exist,and yet they’re now feared and infamous.

They won’t allow the world to take from them

They will impose their will on others.

Uvo’s requiem

I will never shut up about it.

It perfectly represents the nature of the Phantom Troupe and Chrollo’s philosophy.

We know Chrollo believes in souls,but does a man who sits in a broken Church and wears upside down crosses believe in any just god? There’s no way Chrollo isn’t a nihilist when it comes to ultimate justice. He expressed those doubts even as a child,and it seems that while he now thinks souls exist,he doesn’t rely on any afterlife.

He never relied on justice from above,he always took matters in his own hands. Believing in souls may mean that he sees death as a change of state,and sees murder as more forgivable since “everyone ends up in the same place anyways”but this is just speculation.

Only he can improve Uvo’s situation.

Uvogin’s soul soon will be gone,who knows where. Chrollo can’t change that,he doesn’t even know if Uvo hears him. But he will fulfil his wish. He will send other souls off in Uvo’s honour. He will show that his life and death mattered. It’s an attempt to reclaim agency,however futile it may be,it seems Chrollo wants to prove something to the universe.

People are the ones who sever ties

Doesn’t this run contrary to his ideas about traitors? It sounds here like he expects loyalty from those close to him. Or does he mean that he himself won’t forget things unless he cuts them off?

He can’t feel less responsible for the deaths of his friends and he can’t forget his place in the world,can’t detach himself from it.

Hi identity is still tied to external things. And it means all of the things he has lost,all of the humanity he has shed were deliberate sacrifices. Like he resigned himself to give up his life for his goals.

It’s very much a show of will.

The coin

It’s a practical way to resolve conflicts. While it’s thrown by a person,and the outcome can be random, therefore unbiased,it could also be them calling to fate to decide who gets his way.

“May happen what is meant to happen”

This leads to no conclusion,but it’s absolutely related to fate so I’ll mention it here.

1/13 analysis

I have no idea how canon this song is,but it’s a great interpretation of the information we have in canon. It touches on many themes crucial to Chrollo and his Troupe. I’m using the translation from the wiki,I don’t know Japanese and honestly I prefer the translation from the YouTube lyric video

This song mentions almost everything I’ve talked about in this post,and even more.

“..From the beginning”

They were doomed from the beginning. Even if they wanted something innocent and simple as dubbing anime,finding purpose in entertaining the masses.

First Chrollo rejects the notion of life,then he goes on to deny fate.

But he also approves them. “As if” The Troupe doesn’t act in accordance with reality and what it has in store for them,they act as if none of those things were real.

Life not existing means it’s meaningless and because of the horrible conditions Chrollo grew up in,he and the others were never given a chance of any life worth living. Life is real,but not for them. It’s something they deny themselves,something they abandon in favour of their duty and goal.

Fate might refer to both,inaction,staying anonymous nobodies,and doing something,surpassing themselves,and then dying a horrible death.

If there is a fate,can they know what it is?

Is Chrollo following his destiny,or acting in spite of it? If only he knew,haha. Maybe it’s not his choice to become a murder,maybe it was meant to be from the beginning. Or maybe he was meant to do nothing and be nothing,yet he refused.

”When we’ve obtained everything,we will disappear without a trace”

Went from actors to phantoms,got it? ;) This line brings in a sense of finality,of inevitability. So he knows they won’t live forever,that there is a limit. Sure,it could be referring to them being impossible to track,but I chose to believe there is more,since Chrollo touches on the possibility of them actually dying.

In that case,should they “separate and face eternity” the Spider’s Soul will live on. Or it must live on! Pretty spiritual, huh.

I love that while everything hints at his views being nihilistic,Chrollo’s spirituality is almost hopeful.

So is his song.It talks both to the enemy (you can’t run from us) and his fellow Spiders. He tells them to just steal,to consult the coin if needed,to trust that the Spider will live on and everything will be fine.

“What is there to fear?” I’m gonna cry,I swear.

This song also has this notion that whatever happens,happens.

“Que sera,sera” and shit. It shows acceptance of things that shouldn’t be accepted. Even his own feelings at the loss of his friends Chrollo acknowledges,and then ignores.

“Can’t be blamed.” He can’t blame himself for still feeling those things,but he just dismisses them. “You will want to sneeze at dust,it’s normal,but hold it in.” = “You will cry at deaths,feel grief and anger. Those reactions are normal,but don’t let it affect you”🗿🧍

What has pride to do with this? I’m genuinely confused. If this mf telling us to be humble? Is it prideful to expect no one to die? Or is this the typical “detach yourself from your feelings”?

Conclusion: Chrollo is seen as a fatalist because of his stoic attitude. The only way (according to HxH fans) to deal with what he goes through,is to tell himself it’s meant to be. I propose that no,he doesn’t think so. He thinks that regardless of fate,he can outsmart it and come out on top. Even if he loses people in the process,in the end it will be worth it. And even if he feels grief at their deaths,that’s just what happens. It didn’t stop him until now. All that just to steal? No,Ofc not. He just doesn’t know how to express his motives.

DO YOU EVEN HAVE CLEAR MOTIVES,CHROLLO? Your journey leads you to nowhere,and we don’t even know where it all went wrong

[burningcheese-merchant]

BurningCheese/GoldenSpice Playlist

Ok, time to stop being a bitch and post the ship playlist I keep harping on about already.

Gonna mark each song with an emoji to signify if it's meant to either be Burning Spice's POV (🔺) or Golden Cheese's (🧀). It's also going to be band/singer name first, song name second, for ease of understanding

Thank you to everyone who's reached out to me, both on here and on AO3, with song suggestions! A good chunk of these came from me myself, but a lot of people introduced me to plenty more songs that I loved and agreed suited these two perfectly. It's been fun putting a playlist together with this help, it feels like a fun group project now lol. (Hell, you guys are actually helping me think of new writing material. Music is a huge source of inspiration and creativity for me, as I'm sure you've noticed. In a way, you're all indirectly making fic requests lol)

You're all still more than welcome to keep shooting me song ideas to add, the playlist is ever-expanding! I'll just come back to this post and edit any new additions in. (This playlist is 3x longer than my PitayaFire one. I need you all to understand how big of a deal that is for me personally. I never thought I'd be this down bad for a ship besides that one. It's fucking surreal)

Some of it is meant to sound one-sided, others like it's a mutual love/relationship. I'll let you guess which is which lol. Now rock out to Evil Spice Man x Pretty Cheese Lady with me 🤘🤘🤘

Mindless Self Indulgence - Shut Me Up🔺

Fall Out Boy - I Don't Care🔺(with the Wild Spice crew as the backup singers!!!)

Mariah Carey - Obsessed 🧀

Three Days Grace - I Hate Everything About You🔺🧀

Lady Gaga - Bad Romance🔺🧀

Dead or Alive - You Spin Me Round (Like a Record)🔺

Mindless Self Indulgence - What Do They Know?🔺

Britney Spears - Toxic 🧀

Fish in a Birdcage - Rule #34🔺(this is also a great PureShadow song ngl. It's how it was first introduced to me, even lol)

Shayfer James - Filthy Habit🔺

King Gnu - SPECIALZ🔺🧀 (look up the English version of the lyrics. Very BurningCheese-core imo)

Mindless Self Indulgence - This Hurts🔺

Jack Black - Peaches🔺(shout out to the anon in my inbox who suggested this. Joke's on them, I had this on the playlist right from the start lolololololol)

Arctic Monkeys - R U Mine?🔺

Lady Gaga - Poker Face 🧀

Olly Murs (feat. Flo Rida) - Troublemaker 🧀

Rihanna - Where Have You Been🔺(fun fact: I had this playing on a loop as I wrote "Our Little Dance" to get into the Yandere Spice mindset lol)

Lady Gaga - Judas 🧀

Miike Snow - Genghis Khan🔺

The Orion Experience - Obsessed With You🔺(this song is just really funny. You can probably apply it to all Beast x Ancient ships tbh)

Nine Inch Nails - Closer🔺

Mindless Self Indulgence - 5TR82HE11🔺

Air Traffic Controller - This Is Love🔺

Bad Omens - THE DEATH OF PEACE OF MIND🔺🧀

Isabel LaRosa - favorite 🧀

Bloodhound Gang - The Bad Touch🔺(listen I imagined Spice singing this to Golden and just started howling with laughter, it's fucking hysterical ok)

ENHYPEN - Bite Me🔺

Scissor Sisters - I Can't Decide🔺(GC would sing a few parts tho)

5 Seconds of Summer - Teeth🔺🧀 (mostly Spice though)

Buerak - Культ Тела 🔺(look up English lyrics, very Yandere Spice coded. Thank you to the anon who suggested it)

Tom Lehrer - The Masochism Tango🔺

Lady Gaga - Disease 🧀

G-Eazy (with Halsey) - Him & I🔺🧀

Britney Spears - ...Baby One More Time🔺(imagine Spice singing this while stuck in prison. Please. He's singing and the other Beasts want to off themselves because it's so annoying and he won't stop. Please it is so funny. I have so much fun imagining this freak acting stupid-)

[toysrguts]

smiling friends headcanons!! :D

i have smiling friends brainrot

allan:

•wine is his de-stresser. after a long shift he likes to go home and sip on a glass of wine while watching shit TV like some kind of cool guy

•doesn't smoke cigarettes often but will bum one off of charlie sometimes during their breaks

•bites people he loves :)

•perhaps his dr. monsters appointment with dr. monster was an appointment to assess him for OCD

•very very particular about the way he likes things and hates unexpected change in his routine

•also a math god he's like a walking calculator

•always helping other people reach things that they cant

•he has to be like 6’3 or something probably

•autism be damned my boy can work a grill (he can cook really well)

•in fact hes often the one cooking meals for the other smiling friends

•he also lovessss to garden its one of his favorite hobbies

•he grows his own vegetables to cook with and flowers to decorate his home :)

•i feel like this man would get down to some queen or duran duran

•he’ll listen to pretty much anything but i feel like he would gravitate towards 80s classics

•used to own a car that he loved but it broke down and he never bought another one

•went to school for engineering and started volunteering at smiling friends after graduating as kind of a placeholder job, but loved it so much it became his full time job

•cheese is his safe food

•had to wear glasses when he was younger but felt like they deterred the ladies so he switched to wearing contacts

•probably drinks black coffee like a fucking freak

•either that or he adds oat milk

•hes pretty anxious and freaks out a lot and will also snap if he has sensory overload

•wears noise canceling headphones a lot cause too much noise drives him insane

•HATES fabric touching his skin but will still wear a tie cause “it’s classy” and will wear clothes if hes out in public

•once took a trip to france and almost didnt come back cuz it was like cheese heaven

•goes clubbing during some of his nights off and is a karaoke GOD

•also goated at chess and gets heated during a game of scrabble

charlie:

•definitely sneaks a cart into work every day

•if allan didn’t cook this dude would go into debt from ordering takeout every day

•was raised mostly by his uncle cause his parents werent always around, and they're more like really good friends now that hes older

•grew up poor and had a pretty hard childhood overall but he doesn't dwell on it too much

•relieves his stress and frustration by terrorizing people in fortnite lobbies

•the smiling friends hq is air conditioned 24/7 per his request, he's heat sensitive and sweats EXCESSIVELY

•uses axe body spray to mask the stench

•his living conditions are depressing to look at, the only furniture in his apartment is a mattress and an old camping chair he borrowed from his uncle years ago

•also probably owns a shelf dedicated to lego builds

•he spends like 90% of his time in his bed if not working

•his morning routine consists of waking up disoriented asf, throwing on some clothes laying on the floor, forgetting to brush his teeth and walking out the door

•was exposed to shock sites wayyy too young

•acted out and got in trouble a lot in his adolescence but now just likes to keep to himself for the most part

•believe it or not he was baptized as a baby

•started caring about life a little more ever since experiencing hell

•feel like he likes music his uncle showed him as a kid, maybe judas priest and whitesnake type shit

•doesn’t even have to say anything when he goes to salty’s cause hes a regular and they know his exact order

•thats a bisexual man if ive ever seen one

•the hat hides his receding hairline lul

•has a fat ass surgical scar on his nose from when james ripped it off

•wears the same beat up white adidas shoes and got in highschool

•owns one of those “dubstep, weed and jacking off” shirts

•hes an only child but pim is like a brother to him

•had a family dog growing up and is a dog person overall

pim:

•begs to play roblox when anyone else is playing video games in the office

•curls up into a ball when he sleeps

•also will freak out without a night light

•his room is definitely littered with stuffed animals

•grew up watching mlp (g1) and probably still owns some pony figures

•and says “hello everypony!!” when entering a room

•played a LOT of browser and flash games as a youngster like club penguin and moviestar planet

•genuinely finds beauty in everything i wish i was on his level of joy and whimsey

•would totally listen to vocaloid and would totally go on a super long tangent about how its so cool and holograms are so cool

•also has a collection of light sticks and miku plushies and definitely kisses his miku poster goodnight

•i feel like he ate paint chips as a child

•craves social interaction cuz his parents had a rocky marriage and were neglectful and his sister treated him like shit when they were kids

•his sister would tug on his nerve ending when she got annoyed

•having a rough upbringing and dysfunctional family is what pushed him to start working for smiling friends, hes genuinely passionate about making people smile and just wants to help people who are in bad situations like he was

•prone to panic attacks :(

•sings little songs to calm himself down

•flails his arms or jumps around when hes excited

•still uses pool floaties when swimming lmao

•also still loves to dress up and play pretend as an adult

•mmmmm loves sweets what is a nutritious meal?????

•wore glasses growing up but just kind of stopped for some reason probably cuz his eyes are fucking massive

glep:

•chronic cyberbully-er

•tells people to kts in his gibberish language when they annoy him

•has most likely caused several wars across the globe

•puts whatever he wants on the tv and then hides the remote and watches everyone fight over who took it

•small but lets out the most diabolical burps imaginable

•is fluent in every single language on earth and probably space too

•absolutely brainrotted from that ipad he wont stop watching skibidi toilet

•unties peoples shoes when theyre not paying attention

•little guy has never known sobriety in his life

•has so many random ass pictures and videos saved on his tablet

•hes like a little vlogger

•if someone says or does something he doesnt like he’ll probably hire a hitman on them

•definitely has access to the deep web

•hates gardening but will help allan out with it once in a while for something in return (like a grilled cheese or some weed or something)

•also will sit next to allan while hes cooking so he can eat all the scraps

[celaenaeiln]

What do you think of Slade and Dick’s relationship ok the comics? Dick somewhat killed his first child, was friends with his second and mentored his third so idk about you but I’d feel like Slade would have some pretty twisted feelings towards him by then even without the whole apprenticeship thing

It's weird? I can't really pin it down because Slade and Dick are kinda everything. They're enemies, allies, friends, as well as mentor and student. Dick is the one that Slade is closest to in the entire family. They're so close that Bruce actually called Dick to ask him for information about Slade.

Deathstroke (1991) Issue #7

"Dick--I need information. Tell me about Deathstroke. I remembered you fought against him several times...as well as fighting alongside him recently."

Bruce...do you need that calming tea because you're mad at criminals or because you're mad that Dick had dealings with Deathstroke?

Anyways, after Bruce hangs up on Dick, guess who Dick calls?

Deathstroke (1991) Issue #7

Wintergreen!

Who also lies to Adeline about someone calling Slade because she's mad at him.

Deathstroke (1991) Issue #7

So Dick and Slade have a tight mutual enemies but also friends relationship. And this was after joey died.

After Grant died, Slade was furious at the Titans and hated them for a while

The New Teen Titans (1980) Issue #2

He then uses this hate to plan and trap the Titans into the way of a specialized bomb but the titans escape. Afterwards comes the Judas Contract where he tries to kill all of them but fails.

However between Grant's death and the formation of Nightwing in Judas contract there's a very important scene between Dick and Slade. Even though Slade hates the Titans and blames from for Grant's passing, he still respects Dick an incredible amount. A year after Grant dies, Slade seeks out Dick individually.

Deathstroke (2016) Issue #19

So basically he finds out about Rose and the first thing he does is dump her on Dick. This ties into Dick's comic Renegade era because Dick as Robin has trained Rose when she was a kid in the rights and wrongs and how to be a good person but Slade as usual has the conscience of a goldfish so he changed his mind after he grew a little more separated after Grant's death. He now decided to push Rose into his ways.

Nightwing (1996) Issue #112

Instead of morals, he now wants Dick to teach her skills, tactics, and fighting techniques because even at his maddest moments, Slade has always respected Dick.

Nightwing (1996) Issue #80

The change from Slade asking Dick to teach Rose only his moral to teaching her his everything is a testament to how much Dick has grown from Robin to Nightwing. One of the most formidable villains ever is asking his long time enemy to teach his daughter. That's-there aren't enough words to express the weight of these scenes.

So Slade heavily respects Dick. He actually respects him the most out of the family despite what happened with Grant.

He respects Dick so much he was absolutely furious at Dick that he got himself shot and got amnesia.

How do we know this? It came out against his fight with Batman.

Batman Secret Files Issue #3

Wait, who's the great man that lost everything?

Batman Secret Files Issue #3

"You're going to got try and kidnap somebody you think I care about. So get to it. What do you think you can offer me? Why would I say yes?"

Batman Secret Files Issue #3

HE'S SO MAD THAT JOKER EXPLOITED HIS CARE FOR DICK AND HE'S SUPER MAD AT DICK AND BRUCE FOR HAVING THE JOKER FORCE HIS HAND.

He got himself involved so he could control the damage without seeming like he cares too much because he has a reputation to upkeep.

Slade really cares about Dick.

That's not to say he doesn't hate Dick at times. When Dick turned his daughter away from him, he got so furious he made a society of supervillains just to bomb Bludhaven. His rage was explosive (haha). He even used Damian to get to Dick.

Batman and Robin (2009) Issue #12

Talia gets it.

Batman and Robin (2009) Issue #12

Batman and Robin (2009) Issue #12

But at this point Dick's just like seriously? screw off.

Batman and Robin (2009) Issue #12

At this point Dick literally doesn't give a shit-he's just so done with everything.

Batman and Robin (2009) Issue #12

Going back to post Grant's death, Slade still kinda sees himself as a mentor or like an older friend to Dick.

After the JL failed to contain Deathstroke, the Titans had to step in and Slade's thoughts about Dick are so funny

Deathstroke (1991) Issue #14

More than hating each other, it's more like Slade is a nuisance to Dick and he really only acts out when he thinks Dick's taken away one of his kids. They have a really long and complex history where their stories are deeply interwoven with each other. Dick has influenced the pivotal moments of Slade's life and Slade has done the same to Dick.

This moment from their team up in the Titans (1999) comic explains their dynamic best

Titans (1999) Issue #10

Dick keeps all of Slade's stuff to study but treats him with a healthy amount of suspicion while still helping him out and being on opposite sides.

Titans (1999) Issue #10

lol

Dick is sort of responsible for Grant's death, yes, but also Dick is Joey's best friend, Rose's second parent, allies with Wintergree, and helped save Adeline. He's involved with Slade's entire family.

Yeah Slade's feelings toward Dick are pretty confusing but I guess you can think of Slade's relationship with him as Slade's hero confidant. He also feels some sort of responsibility over Dick which is weird. Their history is too tight and closely connected for Slade to ever permanently hate Dick but his bouts of rage mainly come from him feeling betrayed by Dick.

Overall, Slade just wants Dick's attention, and Dick for the most part just wants Slade to stop pestering him.

[grimoireofhayley]

Of Friends and Horror

Stu Macher x Fem!Reader x Billy Loomis

WARNINGS: Graphic content, Smut (MINORS DNI), Language, Talks of SA, Cheating, Obsessiveness, Gore, 18+ Content, Stalking, Possessiveness, Dirty talk, Religion talk, Suppressed Mental Health problems (I.e., reader has some issues that she isn't aware of)

Word Count: 1k

Tag List: @ev3ningrain @nerdytif @fanfic-enjoyer123 @darkenwolfie @juda-the-simp @colsons-baker @junnniiieee07 @octaviablakeslove

A/n: YES, two chapters in one night? Let’s gooo! I was squealing and kicking my feet like any normal 23 year old would writing Fanfiction, lmao. This is by far my favourite chapter ever written, let me know what you think! Did I get Billy’s personality a-okay?

All chapter links! 👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻

OF&H Masterlist

Chapter 9

Billy ignored your attempt at trying to help him, though, it was true, it wasn’t entirely…

He did kill Casey and Steve that night, but he didn’t do it alone, Stu was with him, he did just as much as he did. After the slaughtering was done, he made it clear to Stu that he needed an alibi, hence his short and brief sexual encounter with Sidney before he went to your house for ‘help.’

Billy hated how you were covering for him despite not knowing what was happening, you were smart, but stupid, stupid enough to believe him. You knew better than to do that. However, what he didn’t get was why Stu decided to go to your place, when he knew Billy was going to try and murder Sidney tonight.

He overheard other officers talking about another incident involving the ghost face that took place at your house, something about a heart in a box and a mask that was found… But how could Stu be this dense?

“Officer, I didn’t kill anybody.” Billy defended himself, not wanting to stay the night locked away, especially with his slip up at Sidney’s and Stu’s arrogance because the cops now know there’s two of them instead of one.

“This is bullshit.” You slammed your fist down, startling the taller-male. “He didn’t kill anyone…” Your ears started to flare red.

Officer Brinks drummed his fingers on his lap, “I’m sorry, are you his girlfriend or something? Why are you still here, interfering with my interrogation?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the mere mention of ‘girlfriend.’

“I-I’m not his girlfriend…” You stuttered, “You couldn’t tell by the way he was talking about Sidney? Sidney is his girlfriend…” You licked your lips, looking away, confidence coming back. “I’m just a really good friend who strongly believes he didn’t do it… I mean, the evidence is there. So, why would he try to kill his girlfriend?” You gave the officer a side-eye.

He coughs, clearing his throat, ignoring your comments.

“We’re gonna have to hold you, son, until we get those phone records.” Brinks explains, making Billy look down, upset. A small tear rolling down his cheek as he shakes his leg, nerves taking control of his body.

“This is crazy,” Billy murmurs, turning away, looking at Sidney through the glass pane. “You know that? I didn’t do it.” He finishes.

You step in front of the window, closing the blinds, shielding Billy from Sidney’s scared gaze. “Bil, look at me…” You mumble, taking your index finger and placing it under his chin, tilting his head upwards to look at you. “Can you two give us a moment…” You asked both Hank and Brinks, “Please?”

They nodded, understandingly, leaving the two of you alone.

“I know you didn’t do it and the police will find out soon enough that you didn’t do it, that you didn’t make those calls.” You reassured your friend, trying to cheer him up, “I’m sure it’s all just a big misunderstanding; you know, wrong place wrong time.” You smiled, and for a second, Billy’s eyes softened, his big-brown orbs looked at you with a glint of love and temptation; a hint of possessiveness lingering in them. If only you knew that it was him, that he was the Ghost Face, that these tears and sudden relations with Sidney was all a facade, nothing but lies, he wanted you and only you, he wanted this to be all done, but his revenge was far greater than any feelings he ever had, or was it?

“Billy, honestly, I know you better than any of them; better than Sidney, your father and the police…” You pucker your lips, a small giggle falling from them. “If it was you, I’d know, right? You’d call me to come help with the bodies.” You joked, “We’re a team. We always will be.” You ran your hand through his hair, playing with it, “I would do anything for you.” You blushed, still playing with his strands of brown.

Right then and there, he knew.

“Forgive me…” He whispers.

You were confused, but that quickly faded as his lips crashed into yours.

Your grip tightened in his hair out of surprise as he cups your face, kissing you with such force you’ve never seen him do with Sidney.

He knocked the chair over with his body, tumbling forward in the process. His lips never leave your now plump and swollen ones as you kiss back.

You stumbled into the window from Billy’s movement, a quiet thud emitting around the atmosphere.

He moved his hand from your chin, pressing you harder against the pane, the blinds moving ever-so-slightly, but not enough to reveal the heated session surfacing.

He roughly grabs your sides, making your gown shuffle upwards, his thumbs pressing into your skin, leaving dents. It was painful, but also very rewarding. There were sure to be bruises there tomorrow.

“B-Billy…” You moaned, feeling him press his knee against your cunt, a shrill of excitement bubbling inside the pit of your stomach

He continued to kiss you, his face pink with lust, his eyes undressing you, slowly devouring you whole.

“You have no idea how long I waited to do that…” He started breathlessly, letting go of you, but not completely as he fiddled with the hems of your nightgown.

‘God, why am I now just noticing what she’s wearing?’ He thought, biting the tip of his thumb, soaking in your beauty, his one hand never leaving its grasp on you.

You bit your lip, realization finally hitting you in the face like a bunch of bricks.

“Oh, god…” You whispered, “I-I… We can’t…” You mumbled, pushing away, “I have to go…”

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