#motherfucker can catch a basketball one handed.

[hairmetal666]

Steve who goes on a Bake Off type show after Robin, Dustin, and Max set him up as a contestant. He doesn't want to, doesn't think baking or cooking should be stressful, but he's been wallowing since his knee surgery took him out of work and basketball, since his divorce.

His first day on set, he's totally gobsmacked by the sexy host with all the tattoos and long, curly hair. Just, cannot take his eyes off the guy, blushing and stammering whenever he comes around to do interviews, obviously can't stop starring.

After the first day, where he manages to stay comfortably in the middle of the pack, he calls Robin to complain about what a mess he becomes around this gorgeous dude.

Her response is to cackle and say, "Steve! How do you not know who Eddie Munson is? Oh my god, you're a disaster."

Turns out, Eddie Munson is the lead singer of Dustin's favorite band, Corroded Coffin, and also pretty well-known for his dnd YouTube channel. He's been a host on the show for years, only Steve doesn't really pay attention when the others watch it and didn't know.

Eddie, for his part, is losing his mind. He'd known about the beautiful contestant for this season, former college basketball superstar turned coach, having a hell of a shitty year after dislocating his kneecap in a charity game. Eddie--foolishly, it turns out--thought he wouldn't be as attractive in person. He also expected Steve to be terrible and egotistical, a jock through and through.

So, when Steve Harrington walks into the tent in a short-sleeved polo and obviously ironed jeans and is still drop-dead gorgeous, he's fucking flabbergasted. And then Steve has the audacity to be nice? Kind and thoughtful and running to help other bakers when he still has work to do himself? He also blushes so pretty, high across his nose and cheeks, and god does hewant to be the reason Steve blushes like that.

Eddie is beside himself.

Leading up to the second week, Steve schools himself into being calm around Eddie. He can't afford to lose his cool like that every time the host is around. Except, this week Eddie flirts with him shamelessly. Winks at him, leans into space, calls him "m'lord" with this deeply resonant voice that makes Steve want to drop to his knees. Steve doesn't mean to, not really, but he flirts right back, feeding Eddie tidbits of his bakes and looking for any excuse to touch him.

Steve does well for the first half of episodes. He never wins the technical or star baker, but he's regularly within the top contestants. On episode five, though, something is off. He's distracted, forgetful, doesn't leave enough time for his custard to set in the signature. Eddie asks if he's okay, but Steve shrugs and smiles, says "off my game today."

But then, in the technical, he curdles his buttercream more than once, and his genoise sponge burns. Eddie watches as Steve folds his arms above his head and disappears from view. He doesn't hesitate, he sprints from his interview, falling to his knees in front of the contestant.

"Stevie, sweetheart, what's going on?"

"I get migraines," Steve whispers. Trails of wet streak down his cheeks. "I've felt one coming all morning, been trying to stave it off but--"

"Okay, okay," Eddie shakes out his hands. "You can sit out this challenge, yeah? Or take this weekend off. It happens. You'll come back next week--"

"I don't want to stop." More tears fall from his eyes.

"What do you need?"

Steve shakes his head, wry little smile pulling at his lips. "Time to breathe."

Eddie glances up, eyes catching on the camera crew hovering in front of them. He throws both middle fingers up and says, in the most reasonable and even tone, "fuck!" Everyone in the tent looks at him, but he doesn't stop. "Shit!" "Bitch!" Motherfucker!" He goes on and on, saying the filthiest series of things he can think of. The camera crew steps away, another contestant brings Steve a glass of water, and Eddie sits with him.

The other host announces that there are thirty minutes remaining in the challenge.

"Well. That's that, then," Steve says. He stands, patting the naked skin of Eddie's knee where it shows through the rip in his jeans as he goes.

"Wait, what do you mean?"

"Out of time, no cake, no buttercream."

Eddie hops to his feet. "You're going to let that stop you?"

"Well." Steve laughs. "Can't serve this." He gestures to his discarded bowls of frosting, his burnt cake.

"You have time to make another buttercream."

Steve raises an eyebrow. "Sure, but not the cake."

"Cut the burnt off. Cover it in the buttercream. Easy peasy."

"Okay..." Steve stares at his station. "Okay, that could work. It won't be pretty, but--"

Eddie, knowing he's no longer needed, steps away, and Steve gets to work.

Steve tells Robin all about it and, as soon as he gets home from the taping and she's immediately like, "Eddie Munson, huh?"

He shoots her a look. "It's nothing."

"Yeah, him leaping over a table to check on you is surely nothing."

"Robin," he warns.

"What?"

"Eddie would never want a guy like me."

She laughs but quickly grows sober. "Steve. Of course he would. He likes you."

"It's nothing, really." He walks towards the kitchen. "What do you want for dinner?"

Eddie experiences the same harassment from his band members and their manager.

"You're gonna ask Harrington out, right?" Gareth asks.

"That would be a little bit of a professional conflict of interest," he deadpans. He doesn't look up from his guitar.

A puffed Cheeto smacks him square in the forehead. "Hey!" He shrieks.

"He means once the season is done, Edward," Chrissy says.

He wipes the cheese dust from his forehead. "Not a good enough reason to call me Edward. Anyway, I'm pretty sure he's straight."

Jeff guffaws. "C'mon, dude. No way. He's so into you he might as well have a neon sign."

"He divorced a woman."

"That doesn't mean anything, and you know it," Chrissy says.

Eddie rolls his eyes. "I may be considering asking him out. Maybe."

Everyone cheers. More Cheetos hit him in the face.

---

To Steve's great surprise, he makes it to the finals. Not just makes it, he gets a star baker, gets first in the semi-final technical. He's baking in the final and might have a fucking chance.

It's with great surprise, once it's all said and done, that he hears his name announced as the winner. He doesn't have much time to process it, because Eddie is striding towards him. He's not carrying the cake stand trophy or flowers, it's just Eddie.

Eddie who stops in front of him, eyes shining. Eddie who leans in and whispers, "I knew you could do it, baby, I'm so proud of you." Eddie who twines his fingers through Steve's hair, pulling him into a soft, sweet kiss.

The internet explodes as the season airs. Everyone is obsessed with Steve and Eddie. They have fics on ao3, a dedicated tumblr community, edits, playlists, gif sets, a ship name all dedicated to them. The fandom grows after episode 5 airs. Not all the footage makes it, thanks to Eddie, but they still witness him tenderly taking care of Steve and directing the cameras away. Fans start scouring their social medias, looking for any hint of their relationship status; even beg them in comments and DMs to reveal if it was just a showmance.

Eddie and Steve, however, are happy in the quiet little world the carved out for themselves after filming. They aren't ready to reveal anything, even hints, whether or not the show would let them.

Then, the final airs and the kiss is revealed to the world. The ending title cards show a picture of Steve with the rest of the season's bakers and the caption, "Steve threw a party for the other bakers..."

The picture then changes to one of he and Eddie, arms wrapped around each other. This caption says: "...at the home he shares with his boyfriend Eddie."

That night, in bed, Steve says, "I'm really glad Robin and the kids made me go on the show. But do you think it's bad that the thing I'm happiest about, way more than winning, is that I met you?"

Eddie places a slow circle of kisses in the dip of Steve's lower back. "Sweetheart, I'd be disappointed if you said anything else. Now, hush, I have a baking champion to congratulate."

[axailslink]

can you do riri x reader where they have been dating for a few months and they go to an arcade for a date and they have their first kiss in the Photo Booth spontaneously

First Kiss

Riri Williams x poc FEM reader

Summary: arcade date with Riri in which you share your first kiss as a couple

Two months you and Riri have been dating for two months it comes as a shock to you both it passed so fast. You spent Christmas and Halloween together you've never managed to be in a relationship on a holiday. Today is your tenth date you both of course do in the house dates but they don't really count. Your favorites are when you get dressed up and go out somewhere it doesn't have to be some nice place it just has to get you out of the house. You went to a pizza place that had all types of pizza and even pizza deserts but that is not what you really went for being the big kids that you are you went for the arcade center. Riri's hand stays in yours unless she's playing against you. When you see that hooping game you immediately run off and grab a basketball "babe" however a woman comes over "I'm sorry my son wanted to play this game." You look around and blink "I don't see no kid. Let us play this round real quick and he can have the rest of game when he gets here he can even have the tickets." The woman looks you up and down a facial expression of disgust clearly expressed but you only smile she tosses the ball at your feet and walks off. Riri is quick to grab the basketball and aim towards her but you grab her arms "fuck her play ball with me" she smiles at you seeing your unfazed expression she loves that how you just don't let other people get you riled up. Truth is your temper is shorter than hers but you've learned to think before you beat a bitch's head in with a deflated basketball in the middle of an arcade. You slip a few coins in the machine and smile at Riri "you think you can get more baskets than me shorty?" She laughs and gives you that side smile of hers "I was gone be nice but since you talking about a motherfuckers height I'm about to wreck you in this game." She shoots first and keeps going you thrust the side of your hip against her so that you can get a better handle and start shooting your ball "that's fucking cheating!" She quickly gets up but you throw one of your balls at her and she laughs as she catches it "what shorty you give up?" She just smiles and watches you "no I don't give up but stop cheating" she gets up and tosses you the ball you shrug but notice her numbers are still up more than yours so you glance around before climbing on top of the game and repeatedly just putting your ball through the hoop. Riri laughs and tosses you the ball "I give up you cheat too much" you only laugh as she helps you down you lose your fitting for a moment falling onto her getting a fresh smell of her perfume which causes you to look up at her "wow you smell good" she laughs and pushes you "okay get your gay ass off ass me" you laugh seeing her little flustered expression.

Riri grabs your hand and pulls you to the little claw machine "want to get stuffed animals?" Riri has a sweet spot for stuffed animals she finds comfort in them "if you name yours Y/n and I name mine Riri." The smile across her face only widens as she hugs you happily but she stops when she realizes how close you both are you two just stare for a moment at each other's lips but you clear your throat remembering you aren't alone not as if it would matter you both would chicken out. Dating for two months and you haven't kissed it's not a problem it's just the way you were raised you honestly shouldn't be holding hands but you're not a pre-teen it wouldn't hurt. Riri pulls away and quickly turns to the game as she puts some coins in "you pick the one you want me to have" you look at the red octopus and smile you gently move the handle aiming for the red one. It takes you a while but you eventually get the one you want you gift it to her and she smiles you leave while she plays the claw machine to get you one. You walk up to the counter "hey I was wondering do one of you have a sharpie?" The obviously teen workers oggle at your beauty for a moment before a girl with coily hair grabs her friends sharpie and gives it to you "damn why you give her m-" she punches him in the leg but you only smile and return to the arcade area. You write on Riri's stuffed animal your name and in the card attached to it you write "to our first kiss." She isn't yet but she's going to be. You place her stuffed animal on top of her head and she smiles knowing it's you "hold on baby" she bites her bottom lip as she focuses and grabs you a black octopus stuffed animal she jumps in excitement "fuck yeah!" You jump from the sudden yelling she only dances and hits the Dougie causing you to stare at her "girl what is wrong with you?" She laughs and hands you the black octopus "sorry it took me forever to get the one I wanted for you." You gently take it and give her the sharpie "write your name on it" you turn it upside down showing it's white bottom and she signs her name with a heart. If only she knows how much that makes your heart flutter.

And again another perfect moment to kiss but neither of you do she just closes the cap and hands it back to you. You drag her towards the photobooth "I want photos with you" Riri groans playfully "but I look like a hamburger that got hit, fucked and thrown out" you laugh at her commentary but continue to guide her to the photobooth which she gets in immediately without question. When you get in she closes the curtain and pulls you on her lap you weren't expecting that at all actually. She notices that when you just kind of sit there not moving frozen in place she slowly loosens her grip on your hips but you grab her hands "no it's fine" you pay for the photo booth pictures and look at Riri as she chooses the template. When she finally chooses one and the camera starts you grab her by her face and kiss her the first photo catches it all her shocked expression that holds big wide eyes. Riri immediately kisses back though closing her eyes and letting her self sink into the kiss. You both pull away momentarily just to look at each other she stares at you and smiles. You only smile and turn for the last picture throwing up a peace sign. You wait a moment for the photos to print but Riri just can't stop looking at you. "You kissed me" you nod "I've been wanting to all day well actually since the first week we started dating but you know it's good to take your time..." you grab the small strip and look at the pictures but Riri pulls you back onto her lap and kisses you again you immediately discard the strip beside her as her hands gently massage your thighs. You've kissed people before but nothing compares to this one the both of you give the exact same energy no one is fighting for dominance it's just a simple sweet -hungry- but sweet kiss.

You hear the photo booth curtain being opened and come eye to eye with a young teenager probably no younger than 18 but you immediately jump up and close the curtain. You can hear her groan "I'm sick and tired of couples" you and Riri laugh as she grabs the pictures and looks at them. "You ready to go home?" You nod "yeah I have to make sure I submitted my essay..." She looks at you and laughs "the overachiever and the lacker perfect couple" you laugh and reply "the short one and the average height one perfect couple." Riri pushes you into the wall without hesitation you only laugh as your stuffed animal cushions the contact. Riri is lovely she never asks anything of you just to be there with her and enjoy the comfort you give each other.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You turn in your assignment and glance at your plush while Riri plays with hers on her face time. You hear a silent pause causing you to turn your attention to your phone "babe" Riri doesn't answer "babe" she grabs the phone and sits up "my bad I was reading the little card on the octopus you planned our kiss?" You dodge the camera so she won't see your giddy smile "no" you lie she only laughs "okay two can play that game sneaky."

A/n: tons of fluff

[lovebillyhargrove]

Chapter 2 of "Wake me up when July is around"

Proofread by the amazing @dragonflylady77 thank you for your much appreciated help ❤️

Chapter 1

***

Notes: So, to avoid confusion: I've changed the timeline of canon events

Steve gets together with Nancy in spring 1984. In June Barb goes missing. Summer wasn't as fun as he had wanted it to be, obviously.

No fight with Jonathan, not yet. Jonathan hasn't developed the film yet. School was closed, summer was busy. They just got Will back, so he's waiting for September to develop the film when he gets access to the photography lab.

After that, certain events will start to unfold.

*** Billy's pov

As much as he hates being here, Billy's first day at Hawkins high is okay, all things considered. He is so beyond giving a shit, he just has to get through this year, it's not like he's desperate to make friends.

However, Billy won't mind a little fun, no harm in that. Especially when new acquaintances come looking for him. Also, getting through the year means taking each fucking day at a time, and even though he doesn't want to be talking to any of these people, he'll probably have to, eventually.

Motherfucking Hawkins. It's giving him a dull neverending headache.

During his first lunch when, as a new kid, he is of course sitting alone and feeling very comfortable about it, a couple of girls get close to his table. The one with light brown frizzy hair is clutching her tray nervously but is brave enough to start a whole conversation, although Billy can see the blush hiding under the layers of makeup. Come on, sweetie, I don't bite.

Or do I ?

"Hi."

"Hi." Billy is looking at her like he's looking at the dazzling sun, smiling languidly and squinting his eyes a little, letting his eyelashes do the dance. Add the husk, add the drawl, which he doesn't have to force, it comes naturally. The girl stutters.

"Are .. are you n-new here?"

"Yeah. Just moved from California." He should probably go easier on her, so he stops with the lashes.

"Oh, California? Wow. Uhm .. I'm Vicky. This is Tina."

"I'm Billy."

"Hi, Billy. Nice to meet you." Tina's joining in.

"The pleasure is all mine."

Billy can feel that practically all the girls' eyes in the lunch hall are on them.

"We wanted to ask you if you're free next Saturday cause I'm throwing a party. You know, the beginning of senior year. Uhm .. you are a senior, right?"

"Why, do I look like a freshman to you?"

Both girls are giggling. Billy knows how to party, so he's gonna say

"Yeah, I'm free next Saturday."

"Okay, great!" Vicky would be clapping her hands now if not for the tray. "I'll catch you later for the details?"

"Sure. Thanks for the invite, gorgeous."

Gorgeous is an exaggeration, but Billy always aims to please the ladies.

"See you around, Billy."

Tina is whispering something in Vicky's ear, and they again giggle sweetly, walking away.

Billy notices later that the dark-haired one, Tina, apparently is taken, cause a tall athletic-looking guy is hugging her and kissing her on the lips. He throws Billy a glance like a warning to stay away from his girl.

Noted. Billy's aware of the no trespassing signs.

Trespassing is super fun and risky, but it has to be really worth it.

Billy sips cola from a can and looks around the place absentmindedly. A usual scene, nothing extraordinary. There are guys from the basketball team, nerds, geeks, loners, all types of kids.

He misses being at his school in San Diego like crazy, sitting together with his buddies, listening to their stories about the summer, making plans for the year.

Fuck you, dad. I didn't want to move. I liked the way things were, but you just had to do it, didn’t you? Had to fuck up my last school year, the last year I'm under your roof and control.

Billy's eyes land on that jock who he's seen in the parking lot, again surrounded by the same company, a frail girl with brown hair, his girlfriend obviously, although ... something seems to be wrong there. Billy might be a dumb teenager but he's pretty good at reading people and the situation. He'd give them a couple of months, three tops. The other couple? The guy with freckles and his bitchy half, the one who's been flashing interested looks at Billy across the hall now and earlier in the parking lot? These two are solid, you can tell right away, despite his girlfriend's alluring glances.

If he puts a little effort into it, he'll be fine here. Even if he doesn't, he'll still be fine.

***

Or not. Jesus fucking christ. These small-town morons can't play basketball, like at all. He gets to know Tommy and Andy and Roy and other guys from the team during their first practice. Coach Nelson shows a spark of interest in Billy when he hears California. He doesn't seem super excited to be back to work at the beginning of the new school year, but who would, with this bunch of losers.

That stuck-up polo shirt guy is apparently captain of the team. Steve Harrington.

Give me a fucking break. More like a pretty bitch, busy styling his hair ninety percent of his time. Captain, my ass.

After the introduction and a long warm-up coach splits them up into two teams. Skins and shirts, let's go. Billy takes his shirt off and feels proud of his sculpted tanned body. Fucking superior. Everyone here definitely needs some sunshine and work outs. How uninteresting. No wonder the honeys are already throwing themselves at Billy, with such a gloomy landscape to look at. They play for like ten minutes and Billy is trying his best not to destroy the other team completely. Like, he's trying his hardest to let other guys show what they've got but

They haven't got much.

Faaantastic. Guess he'll glow here as well, like the bright ray of motherfucking sunshine that he is.

He can see that while the others are mostly looking at him in awe, as if he was some NBA super star, the captain? Steve .. what? Hair-rington? Ooohh, the captain is pissed, even though he's doing his best not to show it. That bratty curve of his lips says everything without words. Billy can feel the vicious energy here — the dislike, the jealousy? Something's definitely off, and Billy thinks there will come a time when the rich boy's gonna have to meet his fists.

Well, you better learn how to play, sucker, and hold that attitude back, or you'll get your ass handed to you for the whole fucking year.

The coach is whistling.

"You see, boys? That's how they play in California! Hargrove, you said, right? Billy Hargrove?"

Billy is nodding while going off to the showers. The skins have won, of fucking course. He has won.

With the amount of time Billy has spent on the streets playing basketball? He'll wipe the floor with these snotty idiots. Every damn game.

The idiots don't seem to mind that much. Only one is boring a hole in his back during the shower. What the fuck is his problem. If he's got a huge dick, which he does, he thinks he's king of the world? Billy's not small himself, so. Just learn to play the game, asshole, and maybe the attitude is not gonna be an issue. All the boys, even Tina's boyfriend, Andy, are like "Go Tigers" and "Maybe now we're actually gonna win some fucking matches", but the captain still hasn't said a word to Hargrove, which is very strange.

Tommy, the freckled dude? He's all over Billy. Asks him if he's gonna be at the party on Saturday. You wanna be best friends with me?

I don't think so.

***

Max is on time for the pick-up after her classes, and thank fuck for that, because Billy is not in the mood to be having siblings squabbles right now. He's speeding again, but just a teeny tiny bit. Still needs to find out the whole police situation here. Bets they have a very stern sheriff patrolling the roads.

"First day okay?" He's muttering through clenched teeth.

What the fuck is wrong with him? Does he want to talk to her? No. Then why the fuck?

"Fine."

"Anyone gave you shit?"

"No. Everyone seems friendly."

Alright, Billy's just checking. He couldn't care less about what's happening in the red-haired dweeb's life.

She's not his sister.

***

When Neil gets home, they all gather for family dinner. Neil likes it that way. Billy hates it with all his heart.

"How was your first school day, son?"

"It was good, dad."

Oops.

"Sir."

"I expect you to be on your best behavior here, do you hear me?"

When the fuck am I not on my best behavior.

"Of course, sir. I understand."

That's it, that's the conversation. Susan then asks Max about her day and Billy zones out. He hopes they aren't gonna sit at the table together every fucking day. Back in San Diego such dinners happened, but thankfully not every evening. Neil had different shifts, and Billy always tried to sneak away to shoot some hoops or go to the beach. It's been a week of such numbing dinners already, and Billy truly hopes he'll find an out.

He helps Susan with the dishes, and goes to his room. They already have some homework, not right for tomorrow but he can do it now since there's nothing else to do in this fucking town anyways. He's gonna ace all of his subjects if it goes on like that.

When Billy gets under the blanket and closes his eyes, he hears the ocean waves whispering their magic on the beach sand. It lulls him to sleep, and Billy dreams of the hot asphalt and the sun burning down on him. He's driving around in swim shorts and a tank top, cigarette between the lips, music blasting, flip flops on his feet and sand in his car.

Free.

***

In the next couple of days, Billy is already sitting with the guys from the basketball team during lunch, surrounded by Vicky, Laura, Katie, Tina, all the prime ladies of Hawkins High.

He can do absolute fine without all the attention, but if it's coming to him that easy, why not take advantage of it?

Billy wants to call his friend Nick so bad, but interstate calls are fucking expensive, and Neil is definitely gonna be mad when he sees the phone bill.

Billy has some cash saved from his San Diego jobs, but that's like ... for emergencies, until he finds a job here. Dad gives him an allowance, mostly because he drives Max around, well, and lunch at school, but that's it. Susan sometimes slips him a couple of bucks extra for gas, Billy spends it on cigarettes and beer. He thinks it's her way of saying sorry. For not seeing the problem. Whatever.

Billy needs a job. Needs to ask around. He'll get to it, soon.

*** Steve's pov

Steve is actually feeling pretty good at the start of the year. He's got a girl, his friends, this is his last year at Hawkins High which he is King of. He's a senior now, so he's got serious stuff on his mind like graduation and applying to colleges which, he fears, is not gonna go that smooth, but anyways, he's feeling good. Okay, the accident with Barb was terrible and it weighs him down, and Nancy sulks sometimes too much or gets in a mood, but hey, where was his fault in that? Exactly. It's not like he killed the girl. No-one knows what happened. It's creepy as fuck and Steve has never swum in his pool alone since that time, but nobody knows exactly what really went down in his backyard that night. Maybe she'd wandered off and got kidnapped by a maniac in the woods. The police have no clue. Steve doesn't either.

Steve can see that his friends still don't like his girlfriend, and she doesn't like them, but it's fine for now, they tolerate each other. He doesn't know how long it'll last though.

Anyways, he needs to focus on what's important this year. His parents have been nagging him with endless questions about his future - that is, when they are around. Steve's best shot is at a sports scholarship, he's not only King here, he's also captain of the Hawkins Tigers. They aren't a very prominent team, that's true, but .. the title is still his.

There's one little thing that's been on his mind for a few days already, and it's a bit of an annoyance. Like a splinter you catch by accident and then it poisons your entire existence until you take it out. That new guy, Hargrove or something. Steve doesn't like him. He plays basketball too well, he's smart and has all the girls spun around his finger, he looks too good. Other guys seem to like him. Steve doesn't get it why they do. He's a show-off, a fucking nobody. An exotic thing, who soon will stop being so interesting. Until then, Steve will have to put up with his bullshit, but the problem is, it’s been a week of school and he's already had enough. Hawkins High doesn't need a guy like Hargrove. It's got its current King, and Steve wants to be crowned at prom. He's studied in this school all twelve fucking years, so that's his god given right. There's a potential danger in Hargrove, like he just might ruin Steve's game, and that's not what he needs this year.

He doesn't like the dude. The mullet is atrocious. There's something in his whole look and his entire being that just puts Steve off. It's annoying, like an irritating itch.

***

The party at Vicky's place is loud and buzzing with all the summer energy that's still left in everyone's veins, multiplied by the last year of school drive. The doors of the house never close, it's a warm evening, and people are going in for a shot of excitement and deafening music, and out for a breath of fresh air. There's no keg, cause Vicky's cousin promised to get her one, but something went wrong, and he didn't deliver. The hostess is devastated, however, the hiccup turns out to be less of a problem than Vicky imagines it to be and is soon forgotten. People get drunk anyways. Punch saves the party. The crowd still needs some kind of a show though, so at some point Tommy shouts he's gonna arm wrestle Hargrove, and the entertainment begins. Everyone gathers round the dining room table.

Steve's with Nancy, sipping punch and watching how the new guy easily beats Tommy, Roy, Rick, Andy, Kevin, Johnny, Adam and Ryan. Against his will Steve has to agree that Hargrove looks good. He's wearing dark blue jeans and a black button down. His chest is out in the open, the right side of the shirt is tucked into those tight jeans while the left one is hanging loose. The pendant on his tanned chest is glistening. His mullet is a wild mess, like he didn't even brush it after getting out of bed in the morning.

Steve always styles his hair.

"King Steve!!" Tommy's drunkenly hollering. "King Steve, everyone!" and the crowd joins him.

Nancy is rolling her eyes, slightly, but Steve sees it.

"Promise me you'll take me home after this?"

"Why, you don't want to stay?"

"I'd rather study. We have this big project in Chemistry coming up."

"Are you sure?"

"Steeeeve. You know I don't really like all of," - she's gesturing around - "this."

God, she's always like that. Okay, Steve's happy he's with her, but why can't she just have a little bit of fun?

"Yeah .. Yeah of course, I'll drive you."

Nancy is looking at the red plastic cup of punch he's holding. There's a question, but Steve has been expecting this look all along

"Don't worry, it's just my first one, and I'm not drinking anymore."

Steve puts the cup down.

Tommy is already putting his arm around his shoulders

"Listen, man, the guy is crazy strong..." Tommy's punch scented breath is all in Steve's face. "You gotta show him that Hawkins still got it. You're our last hope. Whip his ass!"

Steve gets dragged to the table where Hargrove is waiting for his next opponent.

Harrington sits down opposite him. He can see that Hargrove's more drunk than he is, it's in the glint of his eyes. Deep blue.

Why is he paying attention to the colour of this asshole's eyes, anyways.

Hargrove's elbow is already on the table, expectant.

He's not saying anything and Steve's silent as well.

He puts his left arm on the field, and the battle begins.

Hargrove's hand is warm, hot even, and dry. Steve's slightly embarrassed cause his hands are just a bit sweaty, and getting sweatier under Hargrove's hard stare. The dude's grip is like iron.

Fuck, it's impossible to win, but Steve's trying, putting all of his body strength into the push. Hargrove's immovable and there's a disgusting smirk on his face

"The King doesn't like losing?"

"Fuck you."

With one swift motion Billy brings Steve's arm down. The crowd is whooping, Tommy's going insane.

"No, loser. Fuck you."

Billy's standing up and yelling.

"Anyone else?"

The guys are laughing, shaking heads and clinging to their alcohol. The party goes on, Vicky comes up to Billy, all flustered and touching his bicep. Harrington can't hear their conversation, but he knows it's something stupid like Wooow. Oh my god, Billy? .. You're sooo strong.

Lift me up with your strong arms and carry me upstairs.

Something like that.

Steve remembers about his promise to Nancy, and searches for her in the crowd.

***

He comes back about half an hour later to see the same scene, only everybody's more drunk. The majority of people are dancing, some have gone upstairs. Steve's gonna miss these stupid teenage parties. He should also throw one this year, for old times' sake.

Hargrove is nowhere to be seen. Steve thinks he's already slipping his dirty paws in Vicky's panties in her room, but then he sees Vicky all sad and disappointed near Tina who's trying to console her friend. Turns out, Hargrove ditched the party early, sending all the girls' hopes down the drain. Harrington is slightly amused. The Californian beach boy needs to get in bed in time for his beauty sleep? Who does he think he is, really, playing hard to get?

*** mixed povs

God knows what has gotten into him, but on Monday, at the beginning of History class Harrington sticks his foot out when Hargrove's passing him on the way to his desk. Just to mess with the Californian macho man. Maybe he's gonna trip and make an ass of himself. For funsies.

The asshole pays attention though, and sees it. Stops.

"Get your foot out of my way, dickhead."

"If it's in your way, I dunno ..." - Steve's shrugging his shoulders. "Just step over it."

Billy is aware that the entitled polo-wearing piece of Indiana cowshit wanted him to trip. What kind of kindergarten game is that? Are you for real? Dumbass.

He grabs Steve by the collar and gets closer to his pretty boy face.

"Mr. Hargrove!! The lesson is in progress."

Shit.

"Oh? I'm sorry, Mrs. Jenkins."

Mrs. Jenkins is as old as the first Pilgrim who stepped on the blessed new land.

"Just some trash on the floor. Must teach the kids to pick up after themselves."

He lets go of the collar and pats Steve's shoulder. Kicks Harrington's foot out of the way so hard it hurts.

Tommy is grinning like an idiot. The whole class is watching.

Billy takes a seat.

"I apologize for the interruption, ma'm. You have my undivided attention."

Shows Steve the middle finger the moment the teacher turns away to the blackboard.

Mother.

Fucker.

Harrington is fuming. It's like he doesn't have enough problems already.

***

Chapter 3

[mrmagicmollymoll]

Ideas For Modern Day Gladiator Games Inspired By Miniature Golf

Was thinking about miniature golf earlier, as I often do, comparing our little games to the blood sport of Ancient Rome, wondering why there aren’t more gladiator contests in our society and lamenting the lack of miniature/gladiator sport in general. Obviously, miniature golf is infinitely better than regular-sized golf. But how much better could an actual sport be, in miniature form? And when I say miniature, in this context, I don’t just mean smaller-sized. I mean vastly improved upon: way more entertaining, way more whimsical, and almost certainly lethal. So. Here are the two sports I’d love to see miniaturized, and how the new games would be played:

1. Soccer, aka “All Ball.” (Sly nod to Dr. Seuss, given the high body count here.) We make the field half the size, add two more raised goals so there’s one at standard basketball height on either side of the field, and change the rules so you can use your hands and bite people. Open brawling is permitted. Goalies may leave their goals for extended periods to engage in hand-to-hand combat and/or psychological manipulation. Also, we add a position: golf cart defender. Each team has one designated defender who just roves around the field like a bat out of hell on a golf cart with a fishing net and a piece of plywood — stealing balls, blocking shots, and generally putting the fear of God into everyone. The game is over when both goals of a team have been destroyed by the other.

2. Baseball, aka “Sky Ball.” We remove the outfield entirely and add two chairs, each elevated 150 feet above the field on a ladder. One ladder goes behind the pitcher’s mound, one goes between third base and home plate. Why? Because that’s where the motherfucking Sky Catchers sit. Their job is to catch anything that flies and to make life hell for the little people down below. Especially the people who try to climb the ladder. (More on that later.) Sky catchers are exempt from all rules — both the rules of baseball and the laws of civilized society — except one: they aren’t allowed to wear regulation athletic gear. They can wear whatever else they want, though, which leads to a lot of medieval armor, astronaut suits, occasional nakedness, etc.

Each team has one starting and one relief sky catcher. No more. If things get ugly up there and you lose a sky catcher, then a fan is chosen “at random,” wink wink, from the stadium crowd to replace them. Sky chair bribery is rampant and encouraged. Big money is made, political careers are launched and ruined. A lot of people die.

Also, any player from the fielding team can steal a sky-base at any time during the inning — and a stolen sky-base is worth TWO home runs.

[palettes-and-prompts]

Character Palette/Personality Palette

If I have seen the movie/show/or whatever this character is in I will let you know! But if I haven't I'm just gonna give my best guess to their personality or what I think they like and everything. I will make them two palettes, one based on their appearance and one based on what I think their personality is. If you'd rather not see this just block the tag "character palette and personality guess" I figure no one's tagging anything like that so it should be easy to filter out. If you genuinely like this character and I lowkey diss them I'm sorry, I'm not going to apologize though, you're going to have to live with it. If you wanna send me a character for a palette and my guess at their personality/interests just drop it on anon and I'll see what I can do.

Alright so this is Victor from the game/anime Mr Love: Queen's Choice. I have never played this game or seen the anime, I don't plan on playing or watching it, I've played games like this and they're not really my thing but let's get into it!

The style isn't bad, he's good looking I guess. I don't like his hands because they are fucking huge compared to his body, he's got yaoi hands and I don't fuck with it. And he's got incredibly long legs, I just noticed, big ass shoulders. He's the kind of guy in an anime or drama that gets the girl but you really don't want him to. He's the boring dude, you know? The guy that's got this bland personality and the main character is like "He's such a good guy and he's really funny, he makes me laugh." Shut up. No he doesn't. I've seen a million of these characters. He's almost always incredibly possessive and gets jealous if another person even breathes in the main character's direction. And he's not funny, they're never fucking funny. You just like him cause he's tall! He's not funny. I have never met one person over six foot who has made me laugh. Not one. He's every businessman ever. He looks like a CEO who has like minimal knowledge of the company. He's that guy who can seal any deal because he is kind of attractive. He's the guy who swirls the glass of wine at a party and gives a short little laugh like "Hahaha, business!" and then everyone else does that rich person laugh. He is a handsome rich business man with the personality of a store window mannequin. The kind of guy you meet who tries to convince you to destroy the world with him and in the end of the story you find out he was a robot the whole time. And you're like, "no, he can't be a robot. What about those times we had together." But then you realize everything you did together was never romantic and they were just really weird outings. Like, every restaurant you'd go to he'd never eat. And you just thought he was watching his weight or something. And like, every time you went to kiss or whatever he'd pull away and you're like "Oh, okay, maybe he's asexual or something and he's just not into kissing." But then you notice he like, sleeps standing up in the corner and you swore one time you saw him drinking oil but were like "it couldn't have been oil, it's probably just Coca Cola or something and I just have bad vision. But then he rips off his human mask and he's a robot underneath and all those things your mind just thought were something else were just him being a robot.

Anyway here's his palette based on his character design.

And here is his palette based on what I think his personality is.

[dejwritesarchived]

heyy dej, i loved the aomine x dancer postsss, do you plan on making a part three? thank you girll xx

♡ ˙ ˖ ✧ — word get out that aomine and you are dating [ ft pro!basketball player aomine, she/her pronouns, female reader, sexual tension, profanity usage, flirting between aomine and reader, lockerroom banter, reader is a half time show dancer, continued from these two posts, ]

♡ ˙ ˖ ✧ — click here for knb masterlists.

AOMINE NEVER PAID ATTENTION TO LOCKERROOM TALK. Especially when it came to gossip. He felt like as a man, why sit around other men gossiping like a woman. It was particularly childish and catty to him. He usually tuned it out blasting some song in his ears while he was tugging on his basketball shorts. However, just as he was putting in his AirPods, he heard his name being brought up.

"Yo' Aomine, I didn't know you got a taste of that new dancer," One player said.

"You always get first dibs. They just all come to you, huh?" Another chirped in.

Aomine never tore his AirPods out his ear so quickly. His tall stature is turning towards his teammates as he looked at him in a confused manner. "What the hell are you guys talking about?" He questioned.

The thing with Aomine is that he hasn't talked to any dancers on the dance team. The majority of the ones he met before (Y/N) didn't interest him. They talked about him as if he was a social stamp to push them further into the famous limelight.

"Awww come on, don't act like that? Tell us, was it good?" His teammate asked.

"I don't know what the hell you two idiots are gossiping about," Aomine said as he was putting his Airpods back into their case.

"So you're one of them kiss and don't tell motherfuckers'," His teammate joked.

His other teammate is passing his iPhone to Aomine to show him the exclusive TMZ article. When Aomine's eyes stared at the article, he rolled his eyes. The clear picture of him and (Y/N) leaving the arena together. Huge smiles on their faces as they're walking side by side. Then there are some photos of him opening the passenger side of his car since he offered to take her home.

"It's not even like that," Aomine said.

His lips parted to speak, but he realized that he didn't have to explain anything to no one. He gave the phone back and left the locker room. His own phone in his hand as he's texting (Y/N) to meet him someplace private so they could discuss this. He knew that paparazzi can be lethal when it came to sports stars and anyone they were rumored to date. The news must have hit her harshly. When he walked to the dancers' locker room, some women were giving him judgmental looks before letting out a snicker.

"Is (Y/N) in there?" He asked a dancer that left the locker room.

The young woman would stare at him and shrug her shoulders. "She left. Some ladies didn't take you and her dating news lightly," she admitted before walking by him.

Great.

He texted her once again, no response. The pro basketball player was on a mission to find (Y/N). It took him another five minutes to see her sitting in the bleachers on her phone. When he took the seat next to her, her eyes were shot red from crying and she was sniffling.

"I'm sorry," was the only thing Aomine said as he stared ahead.

He didn't understand that she was catching heat from the false rumor. A complete double standard in the industry no matter what career path you decided to take.

"It's not you taunting me and being mean," (Y/N) responded as she leaned back into her seat. Her eyes bore into the large basketball team logo in the middle of the basketball court. The janitor crew was currently finishing up shining the floor.

"I know, but it's not fair that you're getting hate."

"I'm not even crying about that," (Y/N) chuckles. "I mean, I saw the hate coming. It's the fact that they changed my position for the halftime dance tonight as some form of punishment for being close to you." She sighed. "Really put me in the back and put Ayden in the front. That girl literally can't even do a simple dance move." She says.

"I can talk to the manager. I'm like the face of this team, if I'm not happy...they'll fix something with a quickness." Aomine urged as he was about to push himself out of his seat but (Y/N) tugged him back down.

"Nah, I'm good." (Y/N) said. "The captain did say don't let relationships interfere with what you bring to the team and it seems like she did just that by doing this. So let's give them a show Aomine."

"What?"

Before the basketball player could get another word out, (Y/N)'s lip gloss-covered lips were on his. It took him by shock, but he was so eager to kiss her back. His hands instantly tugged her into the comfort of his lap. With so much enthusiasm she climbed into his lap. Her manicured fingers combed through his blue-colored hair deepening the kiss. He was craving so much more of her, but the moment was interrupted by the loud voice of his coach.

"Daiki, get your ass down here and start these suicides!"

TAGS — @seyawrld @marvel-ing-at-it-all @ferg0s @warmchick @maydayaisha @gabzlovesu @yuujilove @itzgabz22 @caribbeanwifey19 @sindinminpin @bbgiirrll @potterbell @gardenof-venus @chieflawyerpastatoad @plussizeficchick @littlemochi @celi-xxmoon @po3ticb3auty @hw-shorty @sunkissedebony97 @gaiasmight @himbrosimp @rinhoes @maideneyes @thenerdyrebel @reiners-milkbiddies @babyyblueey @woahhajime @happygoluckyalexis @mastermindenoshimaalicia @sleepy3 @leviackermanst @ghoejo @yooniluvbot444 @xsweetdellzx @suspirihah @minniecums @serotoninaf @pweetchimilk @allukanezuko @onyxluva @monni-dionne @cloudseo @@solaceinarts @7inaa @myabae-blog

[theunholygrails]

Foolish Games Part 2

Masterlist

A/N: Introducing new characters and some drama! Percy is still sexy as ever :'(.

Warnings: BJ

I woke up to a door slamming so hard it joined the symphony of my pounding headache. I groaned, hoisting myself over the back of the couch to investigate to intrusion. A brunette head of long sweeping hair rushed through the foyer, barreling towards the kitchen. A familiar mop of black hair hurried after.

Reyna was speaking so fast in Spanish my brain scrambled to keep up. I noted lots of curse words followed by a series of sentences too fast I was surprised she even knew what she was saying. Percy was answering in slow measured words, probably fighting a hangover of equal measure. I ducked behind the back of the couch, reaching for my phone plugged in on the coffee table.

It was noon. 2% battery and a couple messages from friends. Nothing from my ex thank gods. Five from Annabeth being nosey. I opened my uber app, squinting in the sunlight breaking through the cream curtains. I managed to get my driver secured.

A door slammed and I winced, peaking to check that they were in another room. I did not immediately spot my dress in the chaotic. I grimaced remembering the midnight swim. When I sat up I finally noticed the white tshirt I wore and the basketball shorts. And then I went rigid remembering what happened after the swim.

“Motherfucker,” I whispered.

Now I really had to get out of this house. I checked the arrival time of my driver. Three minutes away. Great. I made my way on shaky knees to the large wooden front door. My keys were still in the collection dish. I grabbed them quietly and turned the door handle a fraction of an inch before another door slammed open and Reyna came barreling back into the foyer, brown eyes landing promptly on my guilty ass. Behind her, Percy pursed his lips into a thin line and raised both of his hands to lay on top of his head. His biceps strained nicely against the thin t shirt.

“The fuck is this?” Reyna whispered.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” I babbled.

“It’s just Noa, Rey. Gods,” Percy said.

“I can see that, Percy!” She snapped. I was glad her spear was not strapped across her back this morning. “Why is she sneaking out of my house in your clothes?”

“People were swimming last night. Her clothes got wet.”

“I’m sure the fuck they did.”

“Zeus, Rey! You ended it with me. Why does it even matter?”

“Because I still fucking love you! I’m sorry, okay?” She burst out crying and Percy instantly pulled her against his chest. The memory of being in those arms drove me out the door like a nest of hornets.

~~~~

“I’m just saying. You have nothing to feel sorry for,” Annabeth paused to sip her iced coffee. “Unless they get back together and then you sleep with him. But as of right now, you’re good. Trust me. Been on the Percy train. We’re still friends. You’ll get over it. Just a harmless rebound for both of you.”

I groaned, laying my chin on the cool metal table parked outside our favorite coffee shop positioned between our New York apartments. Just two Manhattan women enjoying their Sunday afternoon. The air was cooling as fall neared. I pulled my baseball cap closer to the top of my sunglasses.

“Should I call him?”

“Maybe tomorrow. Let him deal with his relationship drama. Reyna is a lot to deal with. Still nothing from fuckface?”

“Nope and that’s fine.”

“Good for you. We will hydrate you, get you a good dinner, hit the gym before work in the morning and then get back on our bad bitch mental track. Agreed?”

~~~~

“Good Monday, yogis,” I chirped from my desk at the corner of my studio.

The third class was beginning to trickle in and I was settling into my rhythm. Hot yoga was next and hopefully I would sweat out all the negativity I’d allowed lately. I was in the middle of emailing back a potential client when someone rapped at the wood of my desk. I glanced up to a blonde male who waved gently.

“Heya, sansei Noa,” he said.

“That’s karate. Can I help you?”

“Do you do trial classes?”

I hit send on my email and closed my laptop. The guy was built like a poser with the defined muscles and chiseled jaw but his voice was soft and tempered. He was clean shaven and dressed like a basic gym bro.

“Normally you have to schedule them beforehand because of class size,” I gave my standard answer.

“Right, my bad. Sorry. I was just passing by the front and it looked like the kind of place I needed right now. Can I go ahead and pick a date then?”

I was staring too long into his pale blue eyes, honed in on the polite response. A nice change from the daily demanding consumers. “You know what? Ive got space right now if you like? Have you ever done hot yoga?”

A brilliant white smile showcasing sharp canines. “My favorite.”

“Perfect. I just need a name, number and email to get you a file started.”

He leaned large hands on my desk. “It’s Luke Castellan.”

Before he could give the contact information, I cut him off. “Wait. I know you.” His tanned skin paled significantly.

“I…”

“You’re supposed to be dead!” I blurted out.

His eyes skated around the room and he leaned in closer. “That’s not supposed to be public knowledge. I assume you’re a demigod?”

“Luke, you trained me. We took fucking sculpting together. The Apollo table was right next to the Hermes one for fuck’s sake.”

He winced. I heard a murmuring from the rest of my class I was disturbing with my volume. I collected my shock finally. “Take a seat if you want. We should talk after class. I need to start.”

“Okay. Thank you. I’m sorry Noa.”

I waved him off and walked over to my yoga mat. I sat cross legged and drew in an even breath to smooth out my emotions.

It was a slow 30 minute class. Each pose and movement dragged on. Finally, I dismissed the group and nodded Luke outside. He was waiting on the bench outside of the studio I split renting with a few other instructors. I sat next to him, wiping sweat from my face with the towel slung over my pink sports bra.

“Alright, talk,” I said.

“Not much to say. I was given a second chance at my hearing. Here I am. Starting over.” A shrug of well-defined shoulders. The muscles flexed beneath his gleaming sweat. His red tank top stuck to his chest and stomach. “I wish I remembered you, truly. That time is such a blur in my life.”

“It’s ok. You were a lot older than me and to be honest I had a massive crush on you so I probably hid most of the time.”

A surprised smile slipped across his lips. “I’m assuming the betrayal helped you get over that?”

I laughed outloud, slapping his knee. “No shit! So where are you staying these days?”

“Just around the corner actually. Got a job at the local gym.”

“Yeah I bet the fuck you did.” I squeezed his forearm between both of my hands. I wanted to roll my eyes at me falling back into my school girl giddy at him. Betrayal of the gods aside. He was even more gorgeous than ever. The scar down his face gave him a dark sexy vibe. Like a bad boy even though he claimed he was rehabbing himself now.

“So how, did you feel about the class?”

“I mean, I’d like to sign up for it a couple times a week, that’s for sure. And I’d like to take you out to dinner to make up for not remembering a beauty like you.”

I almost bit my cheek biting out the response of “Yes!”

“You’ve got my number,” he said, chuckling quietly. “I’ve got to get to work.” He shouldered his gym bag and excused himself.

The bike back to my apartment was spent reliving my tween fantasies about bad boy Luke. I opened my apartment door and screeched seeing a man sitting at my kitchen counter. Percy turned to face me.

“You know you live in New York? You should really lock that.”

“It was!” I snapped.

A quick grin. “Yeah. But it was easy to break into.”

I dropped my bag onto the floor and brushed past him to get a protein shake from the fridge. “I have to shower and get prepared for my night classes.” I told him.

“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier.”

I shrugged. “I didn’t either.”

He paused, studying my face in the shitty lighting of the single bulb hanging between us over the counter. “Are we good, Noa?”

“Of course. What’s a little head between friends?”

“Okay…I can’t read you. Can you not play tough just for a minute?”

I chugged the shake and set the bottle down between us. I leaned my arms on the chilled counter, bun knocking against the light. “Honestly, Percy. I’m fine. We are good.”

“Reyna moved back in.”

“You’re engaged again?”

I drank from the empty bottle to give myself something to do. He watched me with those green eyes. He’d known me for far too long. He was nearly impossible to deceive, but I was determined today. The fact that I had dreamt of fucking him two consecutive nights was irrelevant if he was off the table. Even if his lips did look incredibly juicy tonight. Even if they had done near illicit things to me just nights ago.

“I don’t know. She said she wanted to work on things. And it’s her dad’s house, so I can’t ask her to go and I don’t want to go to my mom’s and admit defeat.”

“You know you could stay here, Perc.”

He worked his jaw silently, then rubbed his hands over his face. “Thanks. I do know. Even if we aren’t officially back together, I think we should work on it…” he trailed off.

“And not tell her about you eating me out?” I leaned closer because I was mean to both him and myself. Because I knew this top combined with this angle gave him a simple opportunity. And he took it.

His tongue slid out between his lips as his eyes flicked down, stayed, then dragged deliberately back up. “Probably not,” he agreed.

For a long moment neither of us said anything. He had more to lose now than me. We were no longer on equal playing fields. So, I left the ball in his court. “I’m going to go shower.”

I was done washing in the first ten minutes. The second ten was giving him a little wiggle room to decide. I had my hand on the faucet to cut off the water that was beginning to go cold when I heard the door creak open. I watched through the fogged glass, catching a hold of my breath. I watched as he tugged his shirt off. My stomach flipped over itself when he reached for his jeans. What had I done?

The opening door let in a rush of cool air, perking my skin to attention. My eyes raked unapologetically over his naked, aroused body. His dark hair quickly slicked against his stubble covered jaw. His eyes were no longer the sea green but murky like the deep water of the ocean.

“Hey,” he said quietly, cautiously.

“Hey,” I giggled, reaching out to touch his rough jaw. He winced, catching my hand with his. “We probably shouldn’t kiss again.”

“Sure, whatever you want, Percy. What can I do to you?”

He groaned, turning his mouth into my palm, scraping teeth against the vulnerable skin. “Touch me,” he said.

My free hand instantly planted against his chest, scraping at the muscle. His eyes fluttered closed, head tilting back to expose his throat. I slid my other hand into his thick hair, tugging it tightly between my fingers and pulling to grant myself more access to the strong column of his neck. I bit it first, backing him into the tiled wall when he shuddered. I kissed over the reddening skin and moved my hands to his flat stomach, feeling the shuddered breaths beneath my touch.

“Like this?” I asked.

His reply was unintelligible. I kissed down his chest, moving my hand lower still as I went. When my fingers brushed over the v-line of his hips, I shifted my route away from the center and to his thighs. An annoyed grunt escaped his lips. “Hush,” I scolded, getting my knees under me. The now cold water was hitting the back of my neck and flowing down my body. I placed my hands on the inside of both his thighs, trailing them upwards and upwards until he nearly contorted when I gripped him. He let out a scandalous string of curses that quickly turned to moaning silence when I took him into my mouth.

He unraveled in minutes and I let him cum all over the breasts I had teased him with earlier. I rose in front of him, my own rosy cheeks mirroring his. “Now we’re even.”

[massivetyrantduck]

We're back! Incorrect quotes part 3 let's go

Warriors, texting in the group chat: I wonder what Apple shots would look like?

Steam(im experimenting with names for him): *Sends a picture of of a syringe with an apple slice shoddily edited inside*

Legend: *Sends a picture of a shot glass with an Apple poorly drawn inside*

Hyrule: *Sends picture of person dunking a Basketball into the hoop but replaced the basketball with a poorly resized apple*

Warriors: I hate all of you.

~

Steam: It’s nice to be wanted, you know?

Legend: Not by the law!

~

First: I’ve invited you here because I crave the deadliest game...

Wind , nodding: Knife Monopoly.

First: I was actually going to play Russian roulette, but now I'm really interested in whatever knife Monopoly is.

~

Twilight: It’s impossible to make a sentence without using the letter a.

Legend: Despite your thinking, it is quite possible, yet difficult, to form one without the specific letter. Here’s one more to further disprove your theory.

Sky: Fuck you.

~

First, seeing a banana on the car seat: What the FUCK??

First, buckling the banana up: Fucking buckle UP, it’s the LAW!

~

Time: Wake me up-

Steam: Before you go go

Wild: When September ends

Warriors: WAKE ME UP INSIDE

~

Time: Bet you can’t eat 15 crayons!

Wild: Bet you I can!

Steam: *sips coffee, checks to make sure 911 is still on speed dial, and goes back to reading the paper*

~

Time: Guys where did Wild go?

Twilight: They got arrested.

Time: How the hell-

Wild: *bursts in through the window* The cops are after me, I thought it would be fun to steal crackers and throw them at people.

~

Wind : I like to think of myself as a semi responsible adult here.

Hyrule: Sky is 70% of your impulse control and you know this Wind .

Sky: I feel like Wind is the more responsible one of us two though.

Wind : We are both 70% of each others' impulse control.

Sky: Just two lil beasts in pinwheel hats spinning on the merry-go-round at dangerous velocities, holding each other’s hands so the other doesn’t fall off.

~

Wind : Oh, my God. Do you know what this is?

Time: It’s a book. There’s a lot of those in here, this is a library.

~

Legend: Maybe the real monster was the friends we both literally and figuratively murdered along the way.

~

Twilight: So... what’s goin’ on?

Steam: You want the long version or the short version?

Twilight, hesitantly: The short one, I guess?

Steam: Shit’s fucked.

Twilight: Oh. Well, yeah, that’s definitely not an optimal situation.

~

Hyrule: I am very small and I have no money, so you can imagine the kind of stress that I'm under.

~

Time: Hey, Joe said he's coming over this afternoon.

Hyrule: Cool.

Time: Do you know who Joe is?

Hyrule: JOE MAMA!

Wind , not even looking up from their phone: Damn, that backfired.

~

Time: I have an idea.

First: A good idea?

Time: Let's not get ahead of ourselves.

~

Legend: We’re about to do the tazer challenge. You want in?

Twilight: What's the tazer challenge?

Steam: We taze eachother, then drink. (no Steam my hc is that ur 17 and my hc is drinking age in hyrule is 18 dont underage drink)

Twilight: How do you win?

Legend: What are you, a lawyer? You want in or not?

~

Warriors: Do you have a bobby pin?

First: Yeah. *searches in their hair*

First: Oh, no, wait. I’m not a nine-year-old girl.

~

First: Some of us are still ‘it’ from a childhood game of tag.

Steam: way to just fuck me up on a Tuesday.

~

Time: I left instructions for everyone while I'm gone.

Hyrule: Mine just says "Hyrule no."

Time: I want you to apply it to every possible situation.

~

Twilight, peeling a banana: May I take your jacket, sir? Hahahaha.

Legend: Do you think other people can’t hear you?

~

Hyrule: My assistance will be an act of beneviolence.

Legend: ...Don’t you mean benevolence?

Hyrule: No.

Legend: *proud mentor noises*

~

Legend: I'll offer you some friendly advice-

Wind : I don't want your advice.

Legend: Well, then consider it unfriendly advice.

~

Hyrule: You know, studies show that keeping a ladder in the house is more dangerous than a loaded gun.

Hyrule: That's why I own TEN guns.

Hyrule: Just in case some maniac tries to sneak in with a ladder.

~

Time: Stressed.

Four: Depressed.

Twilight: Possessed.

First: Obsessed.

Wind : Impressed.

Warriors: Chicken breast.

Everyone: ...What?

Warriors: I just wanted to join in.

~

Hyrule: Good morning.

Wind : Good morning.

Wild: Good morning.

Warriors: You all sound like robots, try spicing it up a bit.

Four: MORNING MOTHERFUCKERS!

~

Warriors: Be right back, gonna hit the toilet for a quick power sob.

~

Four(Blue and Vio): BWWAAAAAAAAAA! Oh, you hear that? That's the wrong opinion alarm.

Time: That is not something you actually have installed.

Four: Sorry, say again? I couldn't hear you over my alarm that YOU SET OFF with your WRONG-ASS OPINION.

~

Time: If I run and leap at First, they will most certainly catch me in their arms.

Time, running towards First: Coming in!

First: No! I’m holding coffee!

First: *Drops coffee and catches Time*

~

Time: You know you can die from that, right?

Sky: *smoking a cigarette* That’s the point.

Wind : *drinking alcohol* We’re trying to speed this up.

Legend: *Eating raw cookie dough and nodding*

[catxsnow]

CO-CAPTAINS D.W.

Request: could i please request a damian wayne x reader imagine where she's a complete badass who keeps damian on his toes and they both do debate (because let's be honest damians favourite sport would be to show how much better he is at arguing) and maybe they have to work together to prepare for one debate and have an enemies to lovers situation and the debate comes and the batfamily comes to watch but instead of the usual sour damian he's got the 💖lovebug💖 and simping over his partner.

Warning: fluff, Older!damian, x fem!reader

A/N: I’m so sorry I literally know nothing about debate?? I was a basketball kid in high school so I did that instead. If you’re not satisfied let me know PLEASE!! I’m happy to write something else as well but I hope that you enjoy!!

Word count: 4k

Gotham's private school were one of the few good things to come out of the city. The public school were terrifying and you were lucky enough to get scholarships into the best school in the city. At least, it had to be the best if Damian Wayne was going there, right?

Son of Bruce Wayne, richest kid probably in the entire world. He also happened to be the cockiest asshole you had ever met in your life. You were well acquainted with him being on the same basketball team and everything. There weren't enough girls to make a team that year which meant you had to play with the boys - not that it was a problem for you.

A lot of people underestimated you skill since you were one of two girls on the boys senior team. It came in handy with a lot of games where you came out scoring the most amount of points each quarter. You skill had brought you to captain of the team. Or at least co-captain with none other than Damian. 

The two of you were constantly trying to outdo each other and see who was the better captain and who was the better player. It was a constant battle between the two of you. Damian drove you crazy with his cocky attitude and his ever lasting need to prove that he was right. He was constantly trying to call the plays and you knew god damn well that it wasn't going to work.

Half the time, you were right.

Damian found you infuriating. A girl shouldn't be playing on the boys team - everyone knew that. Yet, here you were. You were proving to be better than half the guys on the team and Damian couldn't stand you for it. He hated when you were right and when you scored more points than he did.

Mostly, he hated that you always had to fight against him, rather than agree with him. You guys could never see eye to eye. And as much as you wanted to blame all the fights on him, most of them were started by you. You couldn't stand to see his stupid smirk when he came up with an idea to win the game.

Everyone on the team knew that you didn't like one another. Sometimes it fueled them up to win the game they were playing. Mostly, it got in the way to the extent that you had lost a game. The worst case was when Damian refused to pass to you and during the last few seconds of the final quarter, missed the shot and lost the game.

Yours and Damian's feud started long before you joined the boys team. Two years ago, there were enough girls to form a separate team. Some practices you would scrimmage against them - that was when your hatred started.

It was his first year playing and he was infuriated that you were beating him at every chance you got. Offense, defense, even court side you seemed to out wit him. He was tired of you and he didn't even know your name - just your number. His number.

"Wayne!" You shouted. Damian once again had his nose in his phone. You guessed that being the son of Bruce meant that he had diligent responsibilities to attend to as well - that didn't mean he got to be excused from practice though. Damian's eyes darted to you and a scowl spread on his lips. “Just because your co-captain doesn’t mean you can skip practice.”

You had to admit that it was one of your favourite past times to piss him off in anyway you could. Whether it was because it made you feel like the better captain or because he looked a little too hot when he was angry. Still, he threw his phone back in his bag and ran onto the court to join you and the others.

It was the end of practice and he looked like he was itching to leave. However, Coach had one last drill to run before hitting the change rooms. It pushed you just hard enough that sweat dripped down your face and soaked the back of your neck. Damian didn't even appear to even break a sweat.

With all the years that you had known him, he never seemed to be overworked. Coach would throw everything at him and he would always accomplish it with ease. You hated him for it. Whatever aestheticism he had was natural, you had to work you ass off for it. Nothing seemed to tire him out.

You nearly dropped to the floor the second the change room door closed. The cold tiles would have felt nice against your hot skin but you didn't know if you'd be able to get back up after you got down. So, you reluctantly threw on some sweats and a hoodie and headed out to catch your bus home.

Of course by the time that you got out there, all the other players were long gone and the only person left was Damian Wayne. Unlike you, he wasn't waiting for the bus, he was waiting for his butler. You wished you had that kind of luxury in your life - Gotham City busses weren't always the most reliable.

"(L/N)," Damian acknowledged you. The bus you were going to catch wasn't going to be there for another twenty minutes. As much as you didn't want to stay with Damian, you also felt a hell of a lot safer standing next to him rather than yourself. "Your free throws were off today."

"Thanks," You rolled your eyes. Of course he noticed your weakness of the day. He always seemed to be pointing out things you did wrong during practice and especially during games. You held up your hand to show him your taped fingers which seemed to be a good enough answer for as to why you were off. "Crushed my pinky last night."

"TT," he nodded. Part of you hated when he did that. That other part thought his little tick was adorable. The worst thing about hating Damian was that he also did the smallest gestures that made you swoon to him. You liked to blame it on his rich-boy-son-of-Bruce-Wayne facade, but you knew that wasn't it.

"You were leaning to your right instead of left today," this time you pointed out his flaw. Damian lifted up his pant leg to show of his ankle brace. How you hadn't noticed it in practice, you weren't sure.

"Two days ago," Damian briefly told you. "Don't worry, I could have crutches and I'd still be a better player than you." You scowled at him. The second that you thought that the two of you could get along, of course he had to go and ruin that with some plain-faced compliment.

"I'm pretty sure that someone who's never stepped onto a court could do better than you," you scoffed. The short time that you had left you little imagination to come up with insult. "My bus is going to be here soon, better go catch your babysitter."

"He's my butler," Damian corrected. You always referred to Alfred as Damian's babysitter - with his childish attitude god knows he needed one.

"Whatever," you were already walking away from him. As you continued to the bus stop, you spun around and flipped him off. Your middle fingers were raised high in the air and you could nearly feel his glare at you. "Have fun being privileged."

What you didn't know, was that Damian knew Alfred was there the whole time. He didn't want to leave you waiting in the dangerous streets of Gotham by yourself - not when he knew the horrors that were truly within them.

><

Damian knew you were one tough motherfucker.

He knew that on the court you were ruthless, unforgiving, and determined. Playing against a bunch of men that towered over you and sometimes having way more body mass against you meant you had to be tough. It was something that he always respected you for. Time and time again you surprised him with being able to take care of yourself.

Tonight was a home game and you were more than excited to be out on the court and kick some sorry ass. Just as always, the other team was shocked to see a girl playing and instantly started making fun of you. They were rough on you, refs were obviously not caring enough to call the fouls, and you were pissed.

By the third quarter, you were furious that so many calls were being missed. Your shooting started to get more forced and your defense more aggressive. It wasn't until the player you were guarding jabbed his elbow into your face did you finally have enough.

Blood dripped down your busted lip and your fists clenched up at your sides. If it wasn't for the bright red flowing out of you, you were sure that it would have been another foul that was shrugged off. With the sound of a the whistle being blown, both teams headed back to their benches.

"Fuck these refs!" You seethed. The back of your hand was smeared with blood from wiping it away. Your coach glared at you for the swear but since you were feeling ballsy, you only glared back at him.

You were already in a bad mood. Before the game had started, you and Damian had another one of your spats. This had been a big one too, you had never yelled at him so much in your life before. And to be honest, you couldn't even remember why it had started. He had said something to tick you off and it had just escalated from there.

The two of you were the first to arrive to the game - as it seemed to happen every time. While waiting for everyone else, you found yourself arguing once more. He always seemed to find the kind of things to just make you angry enough not to be able to forgive him. It drove you crazy.

When some of the other players filed in, the two of you stomped off in your own directions and never spoke again unless necessary. Damian was the one person that you could never get along with no matter how much you tried. And you wished you could get along with him too.

He was your co-captain, you should have easily been able to get along with him. Damian was someone that you truly could see yourself getting along with if he wasn't so damn stubborn.

"She's right," Damian suddenly defended you. He couldn't help but be in awe of you as you nonchalantly shrugged off the wound. You were fuming at the team, the refs, and now your couch. Damian had never seen you so riled up before and he had to admit that he loved this side of you.

"Doesn't matter," your coach cut the both of you off. "(Y/N), you're out for the rest of the game."

"No!" You argued. There was no way that you were going to be benched for some busted lip. Your coach wasn't going to let you argue it. So, for the rest of the game you grumbled on the bench and glared at any player from the other team that ran by you. This was unfair, yet no one seemed to disagree with the coach.

As the last seconds of the final quarter ticked away, victory was upon your team. The last buzzer went off and your team crowded around each other for the win. You on the other hand, already stalked off the the change room. Your bag was hastily thrown to the ground and you planted your hands on the edge of the sink.

To no surprise, your lip was swollen and bloody. A split ran vertically on the bottom and dried blood was caked around it. You splashed cold water on your face, hoping that it would cool you down - both from your heat and your anger. It didn't do either.

Your team was most likely already waiting for you for a post-game talk. That was the last thing you wanted to partake in. Unfortunately, you were already in enough trouble as it was and you couldn't miss this. You shoved a hoodie on and joined the rest of your teammates outside.

Twenty minutes later you had nearly droned out everything your coach was telling you and your team. Everyone decided to join up at the pizza place a couple streets down from the school before heading home. You on the other hand, wanted nothing more than to be in your own bed away from everyone else.

A hand on your shoulder stopped you from walking away. Damian.

"What?" You snapped.

"Calm down, (L/N)," Damian rolled his eyes. He had the time to cool off from your fight several hours ago - you on the other hand most definitely had not. "Come get pizza with the rest of us. I know you're in a... bad mood, but it'll be good to spend time with everyone without coach there."

"No."

"I'll buy," Damian offered. You rolled your eyes at him. A slice of pizza really must have just dug into his budget a lot - being so rich and all. "Just... I'm sorry, for earlier. I shouldn't have said those things."

"Wow, is Damian apologizing?" You were genuinely shocked. He never apologized after any of your fights so he must have felt bad about this one. "I guess I'm going to have to come now."

><

The final game of the season always made you nervous. This year, was even worse. Senior year of high school meant that scouts would be watching for new players in university. Tonight, the gym was packed with them. You needed this scholarship if you wanted to get into the university of your dreams.

To make matters worse - Damian's family had shown up as well. Bruce Wayne and several of his brothers and sisters sat in the stands. It was the first time that you had seen them together outside of his ridiculously expensive galas. Bruce had shown up to support his son - his siblings wanted to see this girl that he had ranted on and on about.

There were many times after practice - or even just regular school days - where Damian would come home and complain about how much he hated you. He was constantly infuriated by your presence and he couldn't stand the thought about how impossible you were to try and have a proper conversation with.

Dick was the one who heard about it the most. He told Jason about it, who started showing up to the manor just to his little brother get so worked up about a girl. Steph became the most invested - she wanted to know everything there was about you and most importantly how, how she could get the two of you together.

Tim didn't believe that it would ever happen. When Damian hated someone, there was no changing his mind about it. You seemed to be at the top of his list at the moment and there was no way that Steph's wishes would ever come true. Damian hated you, simple as that.

You stood on the court side bouncing up and down on your toes. All the nervous energy was pent up inside of you and you had no idea how to get it out. This game meant everything to you - you needed to show off how good of a player you were and that you deserved to have a full-ride scholarship.

"You okay?" Damian stood beside you. He had grown a lot since you first met him. Before, you stood at the same height as him, now, he towered over you. His arms were crossed over his chest as he looked down at you. You couldn't help but briefly gaze at his muscles that popped out of his jersey before meeting his eyes.

"Nervous," you answered.

"Why? We've beat this team before. Is it because it's the finals?" Damian raised an eyebrow. You were never one to show off your nerves - especially right before a game.

"No," you shook your head. "Scouts. I need a scholarship to get into university. I'm just worried I'm gonna fuck up tonight and lose my chance."

"You're going to do fine," Damian assured. You weren't used to this side of him. He never was one to boost your confidence, always the one to tear it down. "If it makes you feel better, I'm nervous too."

"You? Nervous?" you cheekily grinned up at him. Damian rolled his eyes and nudged your side.

"My father is here," he jutted his chin in the general direction of his family. One of the older men seemed to notice and waved at you both. "And my nuisance brothers and sisters. They've never seen one of our games before."

You didn't have a chance to say anything else. A whistle echoed through the gym and the two of you were ushered onto the court. The second that you stood within the lines, your nerves seemed to wash away.

Damian stood in the center for the tip off. He did a short glance back at you and have a reassuring nod. For some bizarre reason, it filled you with joy. You felt a surge of confidence as well as determination. Whatever happened after tonight was out of your control. All you knew was that you had to bust your ass out there and everything would work out one way or another.

That game, you had worked like you never had before. You were making nearly every shot and putting up such a great defense. For the first time in your lives, you and Damian were working in sync. It seemed like he knew what you wanted to do before you even had the chance to think it. The two of you were incredible.

His family noticed how well you worked together. After everything that they heard about you - they assumed his hatred would show on the court as well. Most of the time, that was true. Tonight, you had never seen anything like this before. It was your best game of your life - skill wise.

At half time, your team huddled around to devise a strategy for the second half. You were ahead of the other team, but only by a few points. This was the final game of the season, you had to win. You stood beside Damian in the huddle.

Sweat dripped down his skin which seemed to accentuate his beautifully tanned skin. He left from your side and part of you felt disappointed at his departure. However, he returned only moments later with his water bottle, as well as yours. You thanked him as you grabbed it from his hand.

"You guys are on fire out there," One of your teammates stood behind you and Damian. He had a hand on each of your shoulders and a grin on his face. "It's crazy! I've never seen you work together like this before. Guess you guys are uh, warming up to each other, huh?"

Coach called him over before you could reply to him. He squeezed your shoulder before jogging off in the other direction. Damian didn't look too pleased by the short encounter either.

"Scouts have been watching you all night," Damian looked over to where one of them was sitting in the stands. He had made sure that he made all the right assists for you so that you would go noticed. It was working - you were doing incredible.

"Still half a game left to go," You muttered. As soon as you stepped off the court, you nerves had started to come back. "Thank you, for everything out there."

"(Y/N)? Thanking me?" He teased. He never had a playful attitude like this - but you had to admit that you really liked that side of him. The smile that caused his eyes to crinkle and his cheeks to squish. You couldn't help but gleam up at him the second that you saw it.  "Come on, coach wants us."

The rest of the game went just about as good as the first half. You were drowning in sweat from all the work you were doing but if the scouts kept their eyes on you, then it was well worth it. You and Damian continued on just as you had before - playing as if you were one person, not two.

The final quarter came and went with your team pulling way into the lead. By the time the final buzzer went off, your team had already celebrated it's final win of the season. It was you and Damian that had been the reason for such a dramatic win - and the scouts knew it.

You had been pulled off to the side by one scout in particular before you could even make it to the change room. He happened to be from the university that you were so wanting to go to. Before he could even finish his offer for a full ride, you already had a massive grin on your face and nodded your head yes.

This had been exactly what you wanted in your life, you needed this win. The scout left you to go get changed and speak with your team. However, you had ran into Damian first. Your heart was beating so fast that you were sure it was going to pop out of your chest with excitement.

Whether it was the adrenaline, the excitement, or the pure happiness you felt, you weren't sure - but that didn't stop you from running to Damian and up into his arms. Damian nearly tumbled at your sudden weight. You legs wrapped around his torso and your palms were on his cheeks. Before he could ask what the hell you were doing, you kissed him.

Damian was standing there in shock. He held your legs for support and you could feel them stiff against your bare skin. Then, he melted into your touch. Damian kissed you back with the same cheerful energy that you had. His grip on you became more natural and he felt as if he never wanted to let you go.

The clapping and cheering from your team had pulled you guys apart. Damian carefully set you back down on the ground and stepped away from you. Heat of embarrassment crawled up his skin. "I'm sorry," You squeaked out. "I just, I wanted to thank you. Scouts are interested me and it's all because of you."

You had never really thought about Damian in this way. Sure, he frustrated the hell out of you and sometimes you wanted to punch him in his perfect little face, but you never found yourself hating him. Yet, you never thought that you’d want to kiss him either. 

The instinct feeling that you had? That spoke more than anything else. After all this excitement, you should have thought to tell your parents, your best friend first. Instead, it was Damian. Maybe it was because you ran into him first, but you couldn’t blame your thoughts on that as well. 

"They're interested in you because of how great of a player you are, not because of me," Damian argued. His cheeks were tinged the slightest pink as he stared into your eyes. "And there's no need to apologize... I enjoyed that. I'm sorry for being terrible to you for all these years."

"I deserved a lot of it. I'm sorry as well," You told him. Damian placed his hand on your waist, closing the gap that was between you. He tilted down, placing his lips on yours once again. He never realized how much he had argued with you just to hide his own feelings until now. All these years of fighting had been pointless.

This time, it was a camera flash that broke you apart. A blonde girl with a huge grin on her face held up her phone. Damian scowled at her. "Steph!"

"Tim!" Steph ran back to Tim as well as the rest of Damian's family. She was holding the phone high up in the air, obviously excited to show her brother about what she had just seen.

"Sorry," Damian apologized once more. He glared over in the direction of Steph running away to meet the rest of her siblings. "My family can be a lot sometimes."

"Well if they're anything like you, that doesn't surprise me," you joked. You glanced between him, the team, and his family - all of which seemed to be looking towards you. "Wanna ditch the team and our families and get out of here?"

"Never thought you'd ask."

[brianc521]

Bro | Raul Mendes

Romanced By Tik Tok

You adjust the camera on the counter, making sure your homemade reusable bags cover the lens and body of the camera as much as possible. You take a step back, eyeing the hiding spot, adjusting the bags a bit and then nodding when satisfied with the hiding spot. 

“Okay,” You clear your throat. “Hey guys,” You wave to the camera. “So you’re probably wondering what’s going on, let me explain. I’ve done multiple little pranks or reactions on my boyfriend Raul on Tik Tok. Thanks again for all the support and comments. I love you all.” You giggle, “Here’s the thing.” You stand straighter. “Raul’s asked me to stop, ‘Stop with all the Tik Tok’s Babe, it’s annoying’.” You mock him. 

You freeze when you hear something outside. You look out the window in the kitchen, not seeing his bike yet. 

“So,” You look back at the camera, grinning like a mad man. “Welcome to my youtube channel.” You laugh to yourself, knowing he’s gonna be so mad. “Today we’re gonna prank him.” 

**

Everything's set when he arrives, and you double check and make sure that the red light is on your camera. You’ve got your phone set in the living room, hidden between a few books and a candle. You even swiped his GoPro and hid that in the bedroom, in case he gets the urge to pace.

He does that a lot when he’s upset. He paces. 

If you do this right you’ll only need the one in the kitchen, but you wanted to have the others just to be safe. 

“Baby, I’m home.” He calls when he enters your apartment. He toes his boots off, meeting you in the kitchen. “Hey.” He smiles, leaning over the island to kiss you quickly. 

“Hey.” You smile, taking in his work fit. Dating a mechanic has its perks when he comes home in a jumpsuit with a white wife beater tank top peaking out. 

“M’gonna go change real quick.” 

“Hurry!” You whine after him. “I missed you, come sit with me while I make dinner.” 

He nods, rushing off to the bedroom. You turn to the camera, giving it a thumbs up and mouthing ‘lets go’. 

It’s been exactly two minutes since he’s left you and you’re ready to start this prank, no matter how bad your hands are shaking. 

“Bro! Hurry up!” You yell, stirring the mac and cheese. 

Raul comes around the corner in the next few seconds, now dressed in black basketball shorts and a black wife beater tank top. He’s just as scrumptious and you’re gonna have to work on keeping your hands off him. 

“What are you making?” He asks, walking up behind you, looking over your shoulder. “Mac? Again?” 

“It’s all we had, and I didn’t feel like ordering anything.” 

“You’re the only weirdo I know who never wants to order food.” He grins, kissing the back of your head. 

“Okay Bro.” You roll your eyes. He squints at you from behind your back. “I like to order food as much as the next person. We’ve just ordered in a lot and I’m tired of getting the same few options.” 

“We could have tried something new?” He offers, deciding to let your terminology mishap go. 

“You telling me you don’t want mac? It’s your favorite Bro.”  You turn and look at him over your shoulder. 

He stares at you, tilting his head for a moment. He’s reading your face, trying to figure out what’s going on. “What’s wrong?” He asks. 

“Nothing?” You shrug.

“Why do you keep calling me that?” 

“Calling you what Bro?” You’re trying so hard not to laugh, especially when his nostrils flare. 

“Bro! Why do you keep calling me Bro?”

“Because you’re my Bro?” You offer, trying to make your voice sound confident. You hadn’t really thought of what to say to his reactions, and this reasoning was pretty shitty.

“No I’m not.” He shakes his head. 

“You are though.” You look at him, smiling as you lean against him a bit. He sets a hand on your waist, leaning back into the counter. He’s staring at you in confusion, and you can by the way he won’t relax that he’s a bit annoyed. “You’re my best-friend, you’re my Bro.”

He chuckles, shaking his head a bit. “You’re my best-friend too,” He responds, “But you’re also my girlfriend, I’m your boyfriend.” He nods. “So no I’m not your Bro.” He gives you a pointed look.

“Then what are you?” 

“You’re Babe, Baby, Boy, Babyboy, Honey, Love, Lover, Lovey, Sweetheart, Sweetcheeks, literally anything other than your Bro.” He goes down the list for you.

“Okay.” You nod, “Why can’t I call you Bro though?” 

“Bro is a term you give your friends. Or siblings, that’s what I call Shawn and Peter. I’d never call you Bro. Gives off the idea that we’re just friends.”

“But we are friends, best-friends, we just discussed that.” 

At this point he’s getting heavily annoyed with you. “But we’re more than friends!” He snaps. “We’re in a relationship, we’re in love. Just, Baby it makes me uncomfortable, please don’t call me Bro.”

With that plea it makes it harder for you to want to continue with this prank, but you know you don’t have enough of a reaction or film to make a good couple prank video.

“Okay.” You say softly, leaning up to peck his lips. “Let me finish making the mac before it burns.” 

He hums, walking out of the kitchen, headed for the bedroom. 

His GoPro in the bedroom picks up his soft mutters. 

“Call me fucking Bro, I’m not your fucking Bro. Like what in the fuck?” He shakes his head, ripping open his sock drawer pulling a pair out and slamming the drawer closed. 

He stops, takes a deep breath with his eyes closed. “Wow I’m in love with her though.” He says to himself, smiling as he looks up at the wall that’s littered with pictures of you two together. 

He walks back out, passing the camera in the living room and meeting you in the kitchen again. He leans against the island as he puts his socks on, asking you about your day. 

“It was good, kind of boring since it was my day off.” 

“How many books did you read today?” He asks, smirk on his lips.

“One, Smartass.” You shoot him a playful glare. There was one day where you read 3 books cover to cover without really taking breaks in between and since then he won’t let you live that down. “Can you get me a spoon?” You point to the silverware drawer.

He walks over, opening the drawer grabbing a spoon, using his hip to close the drawer. Right as the drawer closes he pulls his hand out but it catches his pinky, pinching the skin on the edge of his nail.

“Ow! Motherfuck!” He calls out, holding his hand and blowing on the now throbbing finger.

“What happened?” You ask, looking over.

“Pinched my finger.” He looks at you with a pout on his lips.

You giggle at his clumsy nature. “Maybe you should slow down Bro.” You turn back to the pasta, “You move too fast in the kitchen, one of these days you’re going to seriously hurt yourself Bro.” 

He huffs, hanging his head in annoyance.

“Okay, I thought we just decided you weren’t gonna call me that!” He looks at you, tossing the spoon on the counter next to the stove. 

“Sorry.” You fake a cringe, looking at him. 

“Babe, come on.” He sighs, shaking his head. 

“I’m sorry, it slipped out.” 

He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. “I was being nice, was helping you and got hurt just for you to keep calling me that.”

“I’m sorry!” You cry out. “Come here, let me kiss your boo boo better.” You hold your hand out for his. 

He’s reluctant, but allows you to grab his hand to pull it up to your mouth so you can kiss at his bright red pinky. 

“Better?” You ask.

“No.” He shakes his head. “There’s a boo boo here too.” He taps his full bottom lip. You giggle when he tugs you closer, leaning down to kiss you. “That’s better.” He hums, kissing you one more time. “For now.” 

“Come on, let’s go eat.” You say turning so you can continue dishing up. 

He finds his spot at the island, watching you closely as you hand him a bowl and then set yours next to his. You walk around and climb up the stool. 

“Thank you Baby.” He smiles, leaning over to kiss your cheek. “Can we order pizza later if we get hungry?” 

You roll your eyes playfully. “Sure Bro.” 

He stares at you, this time way over it. “Okay, I’m not gonna ask again.” He says. “So stop.”

“Okay sorry.” 

He looks down at his bowl and digs in.

“How was work today Bro?” 

This time you flinch a little when he slams his spoon on the island. He catches that he scared you, and places a soft hand on your knee. “I’m sorry for scaring you.” He whispers. “But please stop calling me Bro.”

You can’t help but smile at him. 

“Seriously, it’s not a joke. Like I’m over it. I had a shitty day at work, and I’m hungry and tired and grumpy. This is not helping. Please stop, please. I’m not your Bro, and I’ve never just been your Bro. So please stop calling me that, it’s starting to hurt my feelings, because I was under the impression I was more than a ‘Bro’ to you.” 

You can’t help it, you crack. You reach over and place a hand on the back of his neck, playing with the few curls that hang longer there. 

“You are more than a Bro, Baby. I’m sorry.” You pout at him. “It’s just a prank.” You giggle.

“A prank?” He squints at you. 

“Mhm,” You nod.

“Why? What’s the point if no one else saw it?”

“Oh, they’ll see it.” You giggle.

“Who will?” He stares at you as you stand, going to the bags on the counter and pulling out your camera. “Oh my fucking god!” He groans. “Babe you told me you’d stop Tik Tok!” 

“I did.” You grin, “Welcome to my youtube channel.” You smile, pointing the camera at him.

“Great.” He slumps into the seat.

[ktheist]

i give this soulmateship : 11/10

a soulmate-esque fic.

pairings: jungkook x reader

words: 6.151

synopsis: in which your whole world shifted when you found out that your soulmate is the frat brother of your one night stand the morning after said one night stand.

alternatively, “these feelings are getting in the way of my heartless bitch reputation.”

x

“Just admit it, god damn it,” Jungkook throws his head back in frustration, if you look closer, you can see the lines forming between his brows, “we’re soulmates!”

“Too soon to tell.” The skepticism you’ve been wearing around your shoulders will be the death of you.

He pushes his sleeve to just below his elbow despite the marking being easily visible on the spot just below the crook between his thumb and index finger. That one spot you touched when your hand brushed against his as you were about to open the bathroom door somewhere in the frat you just had a one night stand at. Hosung? Hoseok? Ho-something is still waiting at the end of the hallway for a ‘rewind’ of what happened last night just because you were both wasted and barely remembered anything.

“Touch me, right here.” He smacks the skin on his forearm. Nothing happens. If not for a little pink painting the area where that loud ‘pap!’ landed.

“No, that’d be animal abuse.”

He doesn’t seem to care about the comment as you trace back from where you came from, ignoring the ‘who was it? namjoon? hoseok?’ (ah, so it’s hoseok) that closes in on your trail. Jungkook’s pep-talk goes on for another quarter minute before he curses and walks pass you into the room you’re heading.

“Motherfucker! That was my soulmate!” The scene is unusually arousing with your self-proclaimed soulmate on top of Hoseok whose morning wood is painstakingly visible in his nude glory while he pales at Jungkook’s unrelenting threats to ‘stay as far away from ____ as possible and if I so much as –’

While they’re at it, you gather what’s yours: bra, underwear, phone and shorts which gets swallowed by Hoseok’s shirt before making a beeline towards the door but not before trying to wave at Jimin with a hand full of bra that you quickly hide behind your back shamefully.

Just when you thought you’ve escaped the lion’s den. The lion comes running at you in a form of Jeon Jungkook with only a shirt and boxers on, shouting your name like a man madder than he turns out to be.

You barely made it into the Uber when he skids to a stop just inches from the vehicle as it begins to move.

x

“Don’t look but Jeon Jungkook is staring at you!” Han Na squeals as she pinches a handful of your oversized sweater that you changed into after dumping Hoseok’s shirt in the laundry basket.

Something tells you Jungkook can sniff the Hoseok off of that shirt if you came to class in it and it’s not going to be good.

“Can you not,” you attempt to elbow the girl with the hand which sleeve she’s clinging onto in her excitement which doesn’t seem to give the desired effect of shutting her up, “make it obvious that we know he’s watching?” 

“Yeah - no. I mean, no! Jeon Jungkook is your soulmate and I will not shut up about this until I have grandchildrens so the only time I shut up is when I’m dead -” At this point where her voice is a pitch (she might as well go up to the front and use the mic), you’re willing to accept any kinds of alternative even if it came in a giant ‘fuck you’ box handed to you by the gods themselves when you look up to see thee Jung Hoseok himself - except he’s more decent.

“Hey, is this seat taken?”

“Yes.” Han Na chirps almost instantly, waving him away with her hand only to frown when you forcefully lower it with yours.

She never liked him ever since he beat her in a dance off.

“Nope.” The ‘p’ pops a little as you will yourself to show a tweak of human decency.

“So,” Hoseok starts, eyes trained on the professor but nowhere does it shows that he’s listening to a thing the elder woman is saying, “you’re Jungkook’s soulmate, huh?”

You’re about to roll your eyes at the mention of fate before the next words get your jaw dropping on the ground and you can only hope you don’t look like an idiot.

“I was kinda hoping you’d say yes if I asked you out.”

Silence.

Well, not actual silence since there’s none of that when the professor’s only taking 2 seconds break between her words but there’s definitely an awkward pause between you two. For one, you don’t expect anything to come out of a drunken hook up and two, he must either be dumb or brave if he chooses to ignore the glare of daggers shooting in his direction from a certain male specimen on the other side of the room.

“Hoseok, I...”

x

“How long are you planning to avoid me before you admit it?” Jungkook, out of absolutely nowhere (actually from the other side of the lecture hall), falls in step with you.

All that muscle wasted to a single cat and mouse game when he could be running for the track team.

“Stop stalking me.”

It comes as a surprise when he abruptly stops in his trek which consequently makes you stop a step after him. Cheeks puffed and mouth pursed. The image is almost comical for a guy with his built yet makes your chest full of something warm and tender.

“I’m not –” he balls his hands in the air as though he can grab hold of the frustrating situation and put a stop to it.

Taking a deep breath, he looks back at you with controlled exasperation and a cooler tone, “I am not stalking you.”

“Um, chasing after the car I left? Check. Following me around as soon as I get out of class? Check. I mean the list can go on if you continue stal–”

“Stop,” he presses his palm against your mouth, “using that word.” 

Eyes looking around in case anyone caught a piece of the conversation only to realize that he’s touching you without your permission and quickly retracts his hand as though they burn.

The look on his face screams ‘oh shit’ as his mouth stretches across his teeth into an unsure smile.

You fumble with your phone. All of a sudden swiping becomes the most difficult task to date as it takes almost a minute for you to access the front camera. And sure as day, the markings are there. Wildflowers bloom across your face where his touch is still hot. Purple, blue, yellow colors your otherwise natural skin tone. 

Jungkook notices the glance you give his hand that’s inked with similar wildflowers as he clutches it and unclutches it.

“Uh, sor-”

He doesn’t even get to finish his words because you’re already dashing down the hallway towards the washroom as though it’s some ink that can be rinsed off.

(But hey, you tried.)

x

The rumor about Jungkook’s floral engraved fingertips spreads like wildfire. The campus heartthrob found his soulmate. You can only imagine how many hearts he’s broken by using those hands out in the open to wave at his friends and perform those handshakes every time he sees his pals.

You, on the other hand, opts for a Kumamon printed mask. Han Na made a slip of a tongue that black would contrast glaringly against the colorful markings on your face if the mask sag lower than the markings line even just a bit.

The good news is, everyone’s looking for someone who has the same markings as Jungkook but on their hands. Not face. Which leads to you managing to lay low the whole week until the markings fade off and you’re finally soulmate-free. Or appear to be.

First thing you do is hop into an Uber to a party on Friday as soon as your class ends. Your friends are already (drunk) texting you to hurry up because apparently you’re the only one with a night class among your group of friends.

“You’re hereeee!” Han Na spills some beer on you while she hugs you, “girl, where’s your red cup? I’ll get-”

You manage to hold her before she fades into the crowd, saying that you’ll get it yourself and leaving her with your friends who are halfway to getting wasted.

It is in that moment that the gnawing guilt in the corner of your heart dissipates as your eyes catch sight of a certain well-built basketball ace with Jennie. Obviously whatever words they’re saying to each other consist of compliments with one objective in mind. To get into each other’s pants.

Almost as though you’re spiritually (ha!) connected, Jungkook looks up. Those hazed eyes turns twice their sizes as your lips part slightly from shock or a big fat guilt of being caught, you’re not sure.

Han Na has been glaring at Jungkook who’s been giving you the puppy eye since you came back without a cup and a whole lot of frown.

At some point, after a few cups of beers passed around, you’re laughing and dancing with the girls. Any unpleasant thoughts now pushed to the back of your mind.

You must have strayed away from your group when not-all-of-a-suddenly, Jimin’s hands are on your hips and yours on his shoulder as you both sway rhythmically. He rests his forehead on yours, sporting that cute, eye smile. Having been friends when people started talking about him after summer break once he put on some muscle and bleached his hair,boy would you be lying if you said you were far from joining the having-the-hots-for-Jimin bandwagon.

He starts to lean in and you wanted to stand on your tip toes to close the distance between you and him...

And then you’re embracing sheer air.

“Stay the fuck away from her, you hear me?” Someone shouts from somewhere on the dance floor.

Looking over to where the voice comes from, a circle starts to form on your left where a certain brown head is visible between the gap of drunken spectators. You push your way through the crowd, worry fills your chest as you internally dread the sight you’re about to see.

Sure enough, Jimin is on the floor, cupping his cheek while he glares daggers at his frat brother. You wedge yourself between the two men, acting as a human barricade. 

“Jungkook, seriously?” Your voice is hushed and rushed, eyes briefly scanning the crowd.

Some appear disinterested, some annoyed at the interruption but the most irritating ones are the ones taking out their phones as you speak.

“Get out of the way, ____.” He orders. The nerve of him.

“Or,” standing straighter, you challenge him through gritted teeth, “what?”

His gaze falters as though it’s a hypothetical slap to his face whilst your heart accelerates. Your body is pink and hot and yearns for him to touch you but if there’s one thing, you’re good at, it’s keeping your hands to yourself when you need to.

The tension is almost tangible. It tastes bitter than the feeling at the back of your throat. A part of you wants to step back and say sorry for laying your hands on another man when you know who Jungkook is and what he means to you. Another part, or the more reasonable one as you dupe it, tells you to walk away with your pride in tact. 

Before the inner war manages to convince you to do something stupid, a shout from somewhere in the crowd makes you break into cold sweat. And it seems, everyone else.

“Cops! Fuck!”

It feels like the series of events from the moment you found out who your soulmate is, leads up to this very moment: shouts, bodies pushing, panicked wails and red and blue lights pouring from the windows. When you look over your shoulder, Jimin’s already fled the scene probably the second someone screams ‘the cops are here!’

“We gotta run!” Are the last words that Jungkook said before all hell breaks loose.

You both start running.

Through the backdoor, into the hilly streets, past houses and buildings until you lose sight of your fellow college buddies who were running along with you, until the signature red and blue lights are replaced with the monotonous street light, until you spot a similar yet dissimilar markings upon people’s faces as they pass you by.

“Did we,” you pant, “run,” another pant, “all the way to the city?”

Jungkook laughs a breathy laugh, head lolled to the back while he looks at the sky as though thanking the stars for saving him - and you have a sneaky suspicion his gratefulness extends to your behalf as well as he squeezes your hand.

“Sorry.” His eyes go wide when it dawns on him (and you).

The blue, purple and yellow wildflowers paint both your hands where they touch, appearing darker in the absence of light as Jungkook releases his hold. Holding back the senseless impulse to grab that hand again, you slip your in your pocket.

“Thanks for saving my ass back there.”

He shrugs, “was saving my own ass but figured I’d bring you along.”

A flash of yellow enters your periphery, “look! there’s a cab, we can grab a ride back.”

“Wait,” Jungkook’s freezes for half a second as though the word left his lips before he can even register it, “what if they’re waiting for us?”

“The cops?” You lull your head slightly to the side, one eyebrow lifted questioningly.

“Yeah.” He begins, “maybe they figured out we’re all from the same uni and are waiting at the house. Uh, I don’t know.”

“Okay.” You nod, “so we hang around here for a bit.”

“Yep.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah.”

A good, solid thirty seconds past before he steps in front of you, halting you altogether. Lips set in a firm, serious line but the pink on his cheeks and ears only serve to make him less intimidating - if that’s what he’s aiming for.

“Be honest, why were you all over Jimin? Do you like him?”

“Uh,” you raise your eyebrows at him as though asking if he’s for real.

When his own don’t lift up, you realize your reluctance to answer is the reason for that flash of hurt in his eyes.

“It’s because I was talking to Jennie, huh?”

“What? No!” You take a step back as though the idea itself physically appalls you, “I mean I’m petty but not that petty and you,” you wave a colored index finger in his face in a warning manner, “are giving yourself too much credit.”

With that, you step to the side, leaving him behind only to have him fall into pace with you. Flushed cheeks and a cute pout, he shoots another round of questions, “why don’t you accept me as your soulmate? Do you... hate me that much?”

The street lamp under which you stop bears witness to furrowed eyebrows and the 30 seconds of interval you take to muster your words.

“You know when something doesn’t work out and the girl tells the guy it’s not their fault but it kind of is?” You take in a deep breath, hoping, praying to the stars that there’s a reset button because honest to Fate, Jungkook will either hate you or you’re going to hate yourself for doing this to a perfectly, attractive and amazing guy.

And the thing is, you know he’s amazing. You were in the same circle of friends at some point, had an intellectual conversation enough to shift the dynamics from acquaintances to kinda-friends, he may even be listed in your future-fuck-candidate but - 

“This time, it’s literally, literally me. I just don’t like the idea of getting with someone just because we’re ‘soulmates’.” Hands gesturing in the space between you and him, you sigh, shoulders sagging, “I mean before this, we’re just a friend of a friend’s and now you’re telling me we’re supposed to spend our whole lifetime together?”

Jungkook drops his gaze, shoes scuffing the hard concrete as he keeps his hands buried in his pockets. One heartbeat. Two heartbeats. Three heartbeats.

After the tenth count, he looks up at you with the same eyes he did that morning and your chest tightens, “I’m not telling you to spend your whole lifetime with me.”

“But give me a chance to show you my definition of soulmates.” His eyes literally sparkle like the stars as he waits for you to respond and you’re going over the pros and cons in your head.

The pros are: your soulmate is Jeon-fucking-Jungkook.

The cons: everything else.

“Okay, but,” You warn, heart palpitating. Somewhere in your head, sirens are going off as a part of you wills your body to turn the other way and run run run, “I can call this soulmateship off anytime I want when I know it’s not working out.”

“Deal.” The hesitant lines between his eyebrows ceases as he grins that grin that makes your heart skip a beat.

x

“Hey,” Jungkook plops next to you, that boyish smile on his face, “cute sweater.”

“Uh,” you hesitate for a heartbeat because Han Na is either going to kill him for last Friday, she doesn’t know the details but he’s easily her least favorite person when she put two and two together or she’s going to kill you for giving her spot out to the guy she’s going to eventually also kill, “thanks.”

It’s a grey, oversized sweater and the only one that you have in your closet that’s big enough for the sleeves to fall past half of your hand so the markings won’t be as visible while Jungkook dons his black and red jersey, the cuff stopping just a few centimeters past his wrist. 

“Nice pen.” You note the lack of notebooks on his table while the pen you saw him brought lies lonely by itself.

His cheeks turn red as he forces out a laugh, “Oh this? It’s Jimin’s.”

You blink, surprised, “you guys made up?”

“No, I sneaked into his room and stole it this morning.”

You can’t help but smile at his pettiness. Idiot.

As though the stars heard him, Jimin slides into the chair in front of him along with Han Na who’s shooting accusatory looks at you. You try to mouth ‘I’ll tell you later’ to her, only to have her use her hands to gesture her non-understanding, leading to Jimin noticing her and then looking over at you and Jungkook.

That makes the third surprised face that’s thrown at you today since Jungkook sat next to you. The second one was from Han Na and the first was from Jennie who passed your row to join her friends on the far left side of the hall.

“Hey pretty, how’s your weekend?” Jimin smiles and he makes it clear that he’s only talking to you with the additional pet name (much to Jungkook’s chagrin).

Before you begin to form a placid sentence in hopes to tone down the growing tension between the two brothers, the professor’s elderly voice greets the class. Jimin being Jimin, he turns his body to the front as he focuses on the lesson. Han Na gives you one last look that screams ‘this isn’t over’ before she turns to the lesson too.

Not long after, Jungkook snickers from next to you as you nudge his side in an attempt to tell him to focus while Jimin takes off the cover of his iPad and puts it back on and then continues scanning the floor below his seat. When Han Na notices the abundance of movements from the person sitting next to her, she must have asked even though you didn’t hear it. And then she starts mimicking his action of looking down as well.

“Give me,” you gesture below the table, palm facing the ceiling.

“What? No!” He half-shouts and half-whispers, gone is the mirth on his face, replaced by a look of betrayal and dissatisfaction as he holds the stylus.

“He’s clearly suffering.” You emphasize the last word, making the man look at his poor brother who’s getting more and more frustrated by the second.

Then he hands you the pen. You don’t miss the extra length between his fingers and the other end for you to take without having your fingers brush. Once you’re in possession of it, you toss it in the aisle next to you.

“Everything good, Jimin?”

The aforementioned man looks at you, distraught but still managing to shoot you a smile, “yeah, think I might have pay a visit at the lost and found. Can’t find my stylus anywhere.”

“Oh,” you throw your eyes to the floor under your seat, peeking through the gap and pretending to look until your eyes land on the piece of stylus that you previously tossed, “is that it?”

Relief washes over his feature as he practically leaps for the pencil as though a second late and it’ll disappear from his very eyes. Or so to speak.

“He was so gonna cry,” Jungkook comments from next to you once he’s sure Jimin is focused on what the professor’s saying.

When he meets your gaze, his hands shoot up in a surrendering manner, eyes wide as though you’re the one not making sense here, “I was gonna put it in his locker when I get back!”

You roll your eyes, “negative one point for the house of asshole-ry.”

Jungkook looks like he’s about to protest just as the professor announces the existence of a test in a fortnight’s time. Then he channels all his energy to panicking and asking the person on his other side about the test just because you sarcastically told him to pay attention in class next time, idiot.

x

The video’s of you, Jimin and Jungkook is out.

Though the last thing you want is to be caught up in a rumor between two attractive frat brothers, it doesn’t seem too bad minus a few random people coming up to you and talking as though you’ve been good old buddies. Taehyung being on of them. You’ve been hanging out with him for almost two days just because Eunha’s friends with him and invited him for lunch even though your group was faring perfectly well without his presence before.

“So, you’re Jungkook’s soulmate, huh?”

Before you manage to say anything, they’re already embellishing the answer one after another. It went from Jungkook being rejected to Jimin swooping in and then to the two boys having a beef over you. By the end of it, Taehyung is nodding and making all kinds of facial reactions.

“They’re pathological liars,” you explain, “half of those things aren’t true.”

The way Taehyung’s been nodding for the umpteenth time makes you wonder if his neck is okay. Before you manage to ponder further, your eyes fall on the group of boys that entered the common hall. Amongst them, the talked-about soulmate of yours.

It seems as though the spiritual, telepathic, hoodoo voodoo connection is real as Jungkook, for some unknown reason, scans the vicinity and his eyes land smack dab on you.

Your friends are making weird, kissy sounds as he begins to tread over.

“Guys, please stop.” You rub your temples, dropping your head in order to hide the heat on your face.

“Hey, sup guys.” Jungkook chirps, he sounds closer than you’d like as your friends collectively greet him back, some high-fiving him from the pap! pap! sounds.

The moment you’ve been dreading comes when Eunha nudges you and you can tell by the lack of chattering that all your friends are waiting, anticipating, “____, don’t you wanna say hi?”

Putting on a fake smile, you breathe out as you look up only to find Jungkook looking back at you with that boyish grin.

“Hi.” You half-whisper in exasperation.

“Hey.” His tone drops an octave lower, almost as though that ‘hey’ was a whisper meant only for you before he turns to your friends, grin widening, “you mind if I steal ___ for a bit?”

“Yes.” Han Na replies, curt, short as she smiles at him in a ‘bye-bye’ kind of manner.

She hasn’t like him much since you briefly and lightly explained why you weren’t acting yourself since you came back without a drink and crossed arms.

“No! Pffft. We don’t mind!” Nayeon says over the silence that lapses at Han Na’s response.

They chorus words of eager agreement. If you don’t know any better, you’d think they just want to be rid of you.

“So I was thinking,” Jungkook breaks the quietness as you walk down the hallway, completely unaware of the curious gazes shot his way, “this Sunday. You and me. Theme park.”

“Like a date?”

He rolls his eyes, “no, I’m gonna kidnap you and dump your body in a haunted house.”

This time, it’s your turn to roll yours but the smile on your lips gives away the playfulness of the atmosphere.

“I don’t understand how a date is going to change my mind.”

“You’ll see.” Jungkook winks and with that, he starts walking backwards, “wear something blue!”

x

You can’t help but snort at the navy blue bomber jacket he has on. The shade, similar to your jeans which is the only blue you have on. He doesn’t seem to mind when he greets you with a hi and a drop of his gaze to his white Adidas before looking back at you with a smile you can’t quite decipher, “you look good.”

“Thanks.” You comment, knowing his taste in fashion has always screamed ‘cute, attractive guy who’s way out of your league alert’, “you too.”

He runs a hand through his fluff of a hair and make a mental note to ask for his haircare routine.

The bullet train you take gets more and more packed with each stop. You don’t miss the subtle shift Jungkook does as he stands between you and the crowd, trapping you between the doors that doesn’t open at least for until five more stops.

“So what did you do last night?”

“Partied, you know, at Taehyung’s.”

“This Taehyung guy, is he nice?” He narrows his eyes.

“He’s okay, he’s Eunha’s friend.”

Jungkook smiles, nodding as his averts his gaze to something behind you where the window opens up to the cityscape.

“What?”

“Nothing.” 

A pause. A hard stare from your part and subsequently a sigh from him.

“Okay,” Jungkook gives in to your questioning look as he returns one that says ‘but you’re not gonna like it’, “I hear he’s been saying stuff about us.”

“Which is...”

“Harmless but I figured you’re not the kind of person that wants to get involved in rumors. He’s been saying we’re soulmates and you refused because of Jimin and something about Hoseok asking you out.” He shrugs, lower lip jutting out briefly, unbothered.

“He did ask me out.”

Just then, the train comes to yet another stop. The last thing you see is Jungkook’s baffled face before slipping past the crowd and out of the train. The afternoon air is chilly even with three layers of clothing. The streets of Yongin forever busy with the hustle and bustle of life. Something sweet and savory fills your nose as you approach a food vendor selling fish-shaped buns.

“Wait,” Jungkook calls from somewhere not too far away, “what do you mean he asked you out?”

He comes to a stop next to you as you pay for the buns, handing one to him as you continue walking in the same direction of the sea of people towards the flashy yellow gates of the park. 

“He asked me out and then I said no.”

“Oh, cool.” A look of relief washes over him as he nonchalantly nods but the smile he hides beneath the fish shaped bun does not get past your hawk-like observation.

Once you dump the paper bag that the buns came with, Jungkook’s already smiling from ear-to-ear as he looks at something behind you where the source of screaming comes from.

“Actually, the merry-go-round seems fun.” 

“You’re not for real,” the look on Jungkook’s face is almost comical as it starts to fall at the dawning seriousness that you’d rather choose sculptures of horses, ponies, carriages and what not than the heaving, suspended vessel he’s eyeing, “are you?”

“Unless, of course, you wanna ride something else then we can go on separate rides and have fun on our ow-”

“Merry-go-round, here we come!” Jungkook almost shouts as he begins on his trek, trailing behind him, you try to hold back your laughter at his obvious disinterest in the kiddy ride but preserved either way.

He looks almost surreal, like a modern knight as he playfully waves around his imaginary sword in his attempt to ‘protect the princess!’ who rides a violet pony just a couple horses away from you and Jungkook. Her hearty laugh rings like bell chimes as the ride comes to a stop and he got off first, holding his hand out for her.

“Are you soulmates?” She looks from Jungkook to you, her tiny hands wrapped around his finger and yours.

All of a sudden, an unbearable weight settles on your shoulder as you force a smile, “yeah, kinda.”

“Then why don’t you have pretty birdies on your faces like mommy and daddy?”

She had waved to a couple in their late 30′s on the other side of the rail. Their markings a monochrome of sparrows, apparent on their faces. A glaring pronouncement of ownership and commitment for those who’s found the other part of their soul.

“Well, because,” the pause you take is long enough to demand the gaze of the girl and Jungkook’s ‘I got this’ smile.

“Because we’re not ready to like each other like soulmates do.”

You thank the heaven’s that, in that moment, you’ve reached the exit slash entrance of the ride. Bowing to the little girl’s parents, you gush over how a sweetheart she is when her mother apologizes for her handfulness. She waves at you and Jungkook as one hand grasps onto her father before the family disappears into the crowd.

“You chose the first ride, now it’s my turn and I choose,” Jungkook grins, index finger pointing to the initial ride he’s been eyeing just as the vessel curves forward after remaining suspended in the air for three seconds, shouts of terror ensues, “that.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you can feel the bead of sweat running down your temple.

x

“Whoever thought about a floating boat is - AAAAAAAH!” There’s no telling whether you’ve lost your voice (you suspect yes, from the soreness in your throat) or whether it got swallowed by the half-dozen of voices from the rest of the people suffering the same, horrible, death-potent fate as you.

The machinery remains suspended in the air, defying the gravity that causes your hair to fall over your visage before it curves downwards without so much as a warning. Then, you’re back to having your mouth wide open like a flytrap, gripping onto the only thing keeping you from being tossed into oblivion.

It feels as though the ride goes on for hours before it actually stops and by the time it does, you realize you have your eyes screwed shut and the railing you were holding onto for dear life isn’t a piece of metal pole that you though it was  because for one, it wouldn’t have fingers and two, the thumb shouldn’t have the ability to rub half-circles on the back of your hand.

“You okay?” The creased forehead and troubled eyes are enough to tell you that you’re going to have to go through another week of sweaters and hiding under sleeves.

Jungkook’s free hand reaches for you only to stop halfway, an indecipherable look on his face before he stands up. The hand you’ve been gripping slipping away from your touch as he pockets them inside his jacket.

By the time you were off the ride, the feelings in your legs gradually return and you manage to walk properly, the warmth of his hand still lingers as your hands sway by your side.

“Sorry, I, uh, didn’t know you were af-”

“I was shook,” you cut him off, determined to get things straight, “not afraid.”

“If you mean screaming your lungs out like there’s no tomorrow is shookethness, then okay.” His tone is laced with mockery as a corner of his lips lifts up.

“It’s called freedom is speech, Kook,” you roll your eyes, trying and failing to hide the heat on your cheeks, “get with the culture.”

Jungkook never lets you live after that. He’s been abusing the word shook, shooketh or shookethness for every event which the word are not remotely applicable but also won a shark plushie for you. 

For the next few rides, despite in spite of himself, Jungkook chose milder ones namely the dodgems and scrambler and you go on to play a few games until you suggest the roller coaster. You take whole solid minutes to convince the basketball ace that you do want to get on the ride and deny every allegations tumbling out of his mouth about you choosing said ride because you want him to have fun too because ‘I’m having loads of fun already!’ he says as he gestures towards the gold fishes that you’re about to hopefully catch.

The sight itself is endearing and ridiculous at the same time because knowing the athletic male and the amount of sports he joins during your university’s sports week, stealing candy from a baby is more thrilling than gold fish-fishing.

“I’ve always wanted to go on these rides at least once in my lifetime.”

Silence lapses before Jungkook looks straight at you, “...that’s kinda sad.”

With a kick to the leg, you leave him calling (or laughing, you’re not sure) for you while apologizing and handing the 2 tickets worth of net back to the vendor. He slips in after you, the excitement of the twist and turns of the route already having him grinning.

“Wanna hold my hand?”

You’re not sure if he was joking when he holds out his hand, palm facing the sky but there’s no mistaking wide eyed gaze he gives you as you slip yours in his just before the train starts moving. Purple, yellow and blue begins to bloom over yours and his hands as your grip gets firmer with every dip and turn.

It doesn’t seem all that scary, these rides.

x

The subway is less crowded, the shocking red seats remaining mostly vacant. Your colorful hands clasp over the shark plush that you hug to yourself. Your side is pressed against the backseat, knees brushing against his while his index finger brushes the back of your hand before it hooks around yours as you catch the last train back. Outside, the star-like lights dot the cityscape. He’s humming an old tune that was popular back when you were children.

A thumb war begins to break out except you end up holding his index finger with your whole hand in an attempt to stop him from poking your poor shark plush. Something warm blooms in your chest as laughter tumbles out of the both of you.

“These feelings are getting in the way of my heartless bitch reputation,” you say, a moment later as you bite your lower lip.

A pause. A silence.

“So,” he fails, (terribly, if you may say so yourself) to contain the forming smile as his eyes do so as well, curving in crescent moons but brighter than the luminescent lights in the ceiling, “you’re saying you like me.”

“See, that’s the thing,” you wave your free index finger in at him, “you’re jumping to conclusions.”

“Tell me I’m wrong,” he dares, that glint in his eyes brighter than the stars that brought you together, “tell me you don’t think we’ll end up liking each other that day we started talking about peanut butter on pizza.”

You scrunch your nose in a muscle response, “which we settled is the equivalence of pineapples on pizza.”

“Which is a great topping,” the repeated raise of his eyebrow tells you to admit the superior fact of the matter but you shake your head playfully, “shut your cute ass up.”

Silence, a comfortable one, lapses as the train beeps, alerting the last remaining seconds before the doors close. You end with your backs against the rest, staring at your reflection in the widow directly across from you. Wildflowers ark Jungkook’s jaw as he rests his chin on top of your head and peeks just beneath your hairline. Nevermind the linger of the mark for the next few days.

“I give this soulmateship an 11/10.” You murmur underneath your breath like a whisper meant only for him as you feel the squeeze on your hand.

“I like you too, idiot.”

x

please leave an ask if you like what you see! check out my masterlist for more fics! :)

[ashintheairlikesnow]

okay what do we need to do to get that Chris on campus with Jake thing to happen because we will do it

Okay it’s not the whole thing or anything (I can work on that actually if you want) but here’s like six oh whoops it turned into a bunch of paragraphs of cute off the top of my head:

CW: VERY vaguely referenced past noncon/exploitation/abuse, recovering pet whumpee, conditioned responses, referenced/implied that character is potentially underaged

“Why can’t I-… I want to wear my, my, um, my my sweatshirt today, why can’t I wear that?” Chris stares longingly, almost pleadingly, as Jake tosses the balled-up dirty thing in the washing machine, smiles to himself. Two-pointer, he thinks. Not that he’s played sports since junior year of high school or anything, but he didn’t exactly suck at basketball.

“It’s too warm for sweatshirts and you’ve been wearing it for four days straight, Chris,” Jake says, pulling some clothes out of the neatly folded piles of clean shirts and pants that stay on a series of shelves in the laundry room for the rescues to pick from. Most rescues take a couple of weeks to start choosing things to keep in their rooms - Chris has been here for three and all he wants to wear is Jake’s sweatshirt and basketball shorts they’d found in the back of one of the closets, something a past rescue had left behind when they moved out to start fresh. “This is nothing. Look, you’ll still be covered up, I promise.”

“I, I will? Do you promise?” Chris hugged himself, all wiry limbs with the same forced sense of lithe gracefulness all the Romantics ended up with after training. “I don’t like um, like my skin showing I don’t like there to be too much, too much skin, Jake.”

Or any skin, Jake thinks. If it was up to Chris, they’d never see anything but his eyes. He had a feeling whoever Sir was had had a thing for Chris’s hair, too, in the past three days Chris had started to talk about dyeing it black or redder or just another color entirely. He’d seen Jake looking at a photo of a girl with pierced ears and mentioned he might want earrings, too.

That was all going to be big steps - Jake figures he’ll talk about it for a few months before he can do anything on his own. 

“Yeah, I promise. You know the rules here, Chris, you don’t show a single inch of skin to anybody ever unless you feel comfortable.”

“I, I, I would feel comfortable showing to-… to you, Jake,” Chris says, a little shyly. If he turns around, he knows, Chris’s face will be red, just at the cheekbones, and he’ll be doing that thing they all do where they tilt their head just the right way, just a little to the side, biting down on their lower lips to show they’re interested.

It’s probably pretty fucking seductive, if you’re a piece of shit pervert who orders one of them. When you’ve seen six of them do it, nearly robotically, falling back into motions trained into their muscle memory deeper than thought, it’s just creepy as shit.

“I know you would, buddy,” Jake says, keeping his eyes on the clothing. “But remember, we have rules about that, here.”

“Yeah, I, I know, I like the, um, the, the rules. I like them.” Chris sounds relieved, as though he’d said the words worrying that Jake would take him up on it or something. And probably he was worried about it - Nat seemed to think he was testing them, without even knowing.

Jake checks over the smaller sizes and pulls out a pair of straight-leg jeans, nothing special but they won’t cling, they’ll sit loose on Chris’s hips and won’t say anything about the shape of his legs. He tosses them over along with a random pair of boxers, and the rescued Box Boy quickly sheds his pajama pants and switches over to the new things while Jake has his back turned looking for shirts. 

“Is, um, are, are are are people going to, to look at me a lot today? Or not? Are they going to look? Is, um, because what if my Sir sees a picture, if if he, if he-”

Your ‘Sir’ knows where you are. You were a dirty little secret and that motherfucker isn’t going to say a fucking thing.

Jake doesn’t say it. Instead, he just turns with the shirts in hand and gives Chris a comforting, reassuring smile. “No, man. Look, remember what we talked about?”

Chris nods, his eyes going wide and solemn, very serious about the things he’d been asked to memorize. “My name is Christopher Garner and I, I, um, I’m your father’s brother’s oldest son and I, I, I’m visiting from Michigan and that’s the name of a, um, of a state in the United States of America and that is where we live.”

“Great. Just… don’t start telling everybody everything all at once, okay? But it’s good that you remember all of it. First things first, let’s cover up your number okay?”

He hands Chris a long-sleeved shirt and the boy pulls it on over his head, the strawberry-blond pushing through the spot for the neck and fluffing out around his head, mussed up and standing on end. He looks fucking adorable, like a little kid.

Because he probably still IS one, and if anyone would tell me who that fucking Sir is I’d rip his throat out with my goddamn teeth like that lady in the third Honor Bound movie did. 

That was a movie series he couldn’t watch with the rescues. Too… close, in some ways, to shit some of them had already seen. But Jake had his own DVD copies he watched sometimes while studying or doing homework. 

Chris is frowning at the cuffs on the ends of his sleeves, examining them up close. His green eyes have gone slightly crossed. “Why’s there a hole?”

“For your thumbs. Let me show you.” Jake steps forward and carefully shifts the cloth around, slipping Chris’s thumb through the purposefully cut hole just below the cuff. “See? Now you don’t have to worry about it riding up and showing your barcode. Plus, it’s kind of a thing a lot of people are doing on campus, so you’ll fit in.”

“I’ll fit in?” Chris looks up at him - up and up and up, the kid is so short - and Jake smiles back down. “Will I? I’ll, um, I’ll fit in?”

“Well… mostly. You’ll fit right in as my cousin, right?” Jake grins down, rubbing lightly at his shoulders, and Chris smiles back with an expression of such absolute trust that it physically hurts to look at him.

Everything they went through made them all so fucking trusting, so naïve and so ready to accept any hint of goodness that came their way as genuine. It was like… like trying to teach a dog to be a person.

“Right,” Chris says firmly. “Cousin. Christopher Garner, who comes from, from, from Minnesota-”

“Michigan.”

“Right. Michigan.” Chris’s face fell, just a little. “I’m, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to to to um, to get it wrong-”

“You’re fine, Chris. We’ll practice on the bus on the way. Now, throw this one, too.” He hands him  thin zip-up hoodie, and Chris looks finally perfectly comfortable once he’s pulled the hood up and over his head. Every bit of skin he could reasonably cover is covered. Only his bangs stick out to show he had blond hair at all.

“It’s a long day for me, so we’re going to be on campus for a long time. I’ve got money for food and stuff, and listen-… Chris, this is important, very, very important that you remember this.”

Chris swallows, hard, and nods. He fixes his eyes on Jake with total focus. “Yes, Jake.”

“If you get hungry, or thirsty, or you have to use the bathroom, you absolutely have to tell me. Do you understand?”

Chris frowns, eyebrows furrowing. They’re the same pale copper as his hair, and sometimes in dim light it’s hard to tell he has any. “But we don’t decide if we’re hungry-”

“Yes, you do, Chris. Now, you do. With me, you get to decide when you eat food, okay? I don’t care if it’s ‘lunchtime’, or whatever. You just tell me you need something and I’ll take care of you, okay?”

Chris looks doubtful, but nods, slowly. “Okay, Jake. I can, um, I can do that, but you don’t have to feed me I’m used to not, to not eating, it doesn’t bother me I don’t even um feel, I don’t, don’t feel hungry much I don’t.”

“I know, buddy. But we’re going to try and concentrate on feeling hungry more. I’m going to buy you a coffee and a scone before my first class-”

“Are you, um, are you getting-”

“Yeah, I’ll get one too.” Chris relaxes, going nearly boneless in relief. Jake reaches out to take his hands - long, thin fingers not roughened or reddened by housework. They’re a little cold, but warm quickly to his touch, and Chris tightens his grip immediately, looking up at Jake, eyes wide and almost adoring. “You can do this, Chris, okay? I trust you. I believe in you.”

Chris’s fingers start to tremble in Jake’s grip, and his lips press together. His eyes tear up, just a little. “D-do you really, Jake? Am I good, to be trusted? Am I, um, am I am I am I-”

“You’re very good, Chris,” Jake says, softly. “And you’re going to do great. Okay, one more time. Who are you?”

“Christopher Garner but I like to be called Chris,” Chris says, each word dropped with importance, with gravity. For once, he thinks it all carefully through before he speaks. “I’m from Michigan, the part shaped like a mitten, and Michigan is a state in the United States of America, which is a country, and it’s our country where we live. I’m your cousin because your dad is my dad’s brother. I’m staying with you because my parents are on a cruise and I’m too young to stay home alone because I’m not eighteen.” 

“Perfect, buddy.”

Chris hesitates, looking guilty. “Jake?”

“Yeah?”

“I, um. I am eighteen.”

I’ll bet my left goddamn testicle you’re not. Doing this to you should count as a fucking justifiable homicide when I find that son of a bitch and gut him-

“I know, man.“ Jake’s voice stays soft and soothing. “But it’s just for the story.”

“… okay, okay, it’s just, um, just just for the story, I can do that. I can.” Chris nods quickly, giving Jake’s hands a tight squeeze with his own. 

Jake smiles, pulling back to ruffle the coppery hair. Chris glows at the attention, the affection, tilting his head into it like a cat. 

“Okay, bud. I think we’re ready. Let’s go catch the bus. If we get the 6:45 instead of the 7:15 we’ll have time to drink our coffee before my first class.”

He leads Chris out, the young rescue repeating his story quietly to himself, hands buried in the pockets of his zipup, his barcode and number safely hidden underneath his shirt, determined to make Jake proud and pretend to be just another free person like everyone else. 

[chanel-blossom]

Chapter 3 (Act 1)

(Warning: a lot of cursing and a little mention of nudity.

Tw: Mentions of child p**n, mentions abusive relationship, mentions alcohol and drugs, manipulation)

Little Ashley hung magazine spreads on her wall,

after picking the magazines out in the mall.

Models and actresses, singers and more,

with cleavage and makeup and glamour galore!

All her heroes were finally nearer.

Her whole room looked perfect — except for the mirror.

- Bo Burnham 

Chanel’s Pov.

Nothing happened with the teacher, he scolded Ayato for a bit and told me not to let his bad behavior influence me, ha! If only he knew. Anyways, Ayato was then pissed at me for not defending him and letting him take all the blame. 

In the limo he kept staring at me, it was quite disturbing, I had seen that look somewhere, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. On a side note, these boys have a staring problem that need to resolve, like, ever heard of communicating? I’m the bitch that can’t talk, they have no excuses. I decided it was best to assert my dominance with him so I stared back. And we kept staring at each other, it wasn’t romantic at all, I had this whole ass fantasy when I moved in with them, about how I’d have my own harem, but they are more trouble than it’s worth. The only reason I’m still here is because of that insanely amazing school.

But the more I stared into his eyes, the creepier it got. That’s when it finally hit me, he had the same look in his eyes as her ex, just before we broke up. He was a dick, so of course I wanted to skedaddle doo out of there. I was his arm candy, which I was fine with, what I wasn’t fine with was him being a fucking cuck. Before we broke up, he threatened to humiliate me by releasing my nudes, now mind you, I was 16 and he was 20 so child pornography. He deleted the pics real quick after I broke down the law for him.

But that look, Ayato wanted to fucking humiliate me, that’s what the look was, and I had no idea of how I should avoid it, as I’ve seen, he’s very unpredictable which is absolutely terrifying. My eyes were ripped from his when my phone got a message. It was from Kai it said “Channneellll I cannot survive school without you, hellppppp” I smirked at this, it had only been a week and he was already fully dependent on me, to the point where he wont submit homework to the teacher without me seeing it... Ayato was still staring at me, I couldn’t wait to get home.

When we finally did get home I fucking ran to my room, I don’t think I had ever ran that fast in my life. I began to do my homework before anything else. I like to do it quickly when I get home so I don’t need to worry about it for the rest of the night. I replied to Kai’s text and quickly got to work. I assume Ayato gave up, the door to my room was left wide open and his bony ass hadn’t popped in.

I had almost finished all my work when he did finally show up, he had a menacing smile on his face as he threw garments of clothing at me. “Get changed, you still owe me that match, we are having bets since you sold me out to that dick face.” This ugly motherfucker- I examined the clothes he game me, they were mine he got them from the other room, it was my workout gear, yoga pants and a sports bra, light blue, very cute. “Do you mind leaving?” I wrote down for him. His smile widened “Nah, I’ll watch” if his intention is to fluster me, it wont work. #freethenip. I needed to desensitize these boys to the naked female body, the best was was exposure therapy. 

So when I started taking off my school uniform, his smile was gone, instead he was confused, he probably thought I’d be flustered and what not, probably go to the bathroom. He smirked when I got down to my undergarment, fucking creep. I put on my yoga pants and took off my bra to replace with the sports bra. This absolutely freaked him out as he closed his eyes and started shouting “Hey Hey! You need to warn a man before you do that shit!” Now that reaction surprised me, I wouldn’t have take him as the type who would get flustered. I grabbed a tank top from my closet and threw it on before tapping his shoulder to let him know I was done. 

His face was as red as his hair, it was kind of cute, he wanted to embarrass me, but the opposite happened. I put on socks and runners and we made our way downstairs to the backyard. His basketball was already beside the door waiting for us to use it. “If I win, I want you to play basketball with me more often.” He said rather seriously, it make my heart ache a little if I’m honest. He doesn’t seem to have the best relationship with his brothers and at school I don’t really see him with anyone except Laito, Yui or his fangirls, I guess he doesn’t have anyone who he can just have fun with. I didn’t have my notebook with me so I couldn’t reply with what I wanted. Not that it would have mattered, he was going to win, basketball isn’t my favorite sport, not really into jumping. And he seemed crazy good back in the hall.

We played for hours, it was a lot of fun, he won every single game, and believe me, I was trying, at some points he didn’t even seem human with his abilities. I quite enjoyed his company, here’s to hoping he enjoyed mine. 

Now this wasn’t my proudest moment, but I’ll share, because I love you. When we were finished, I was sitting on the floor trying to catch my breath and honestly just wanting a shower after the humiliation of loosing to him so much. But then, this skinny legend of a man decided to pick up the ball. Before I tell you what I did, I need to describe just how perfect this man was. His impossibly skinny, hairless legs stood perfectly straight as his back bent over to pick up the ball. I could see every little droplet of sweat on his pale skin. He just looked so prefect. I couldn’t resist, I took my dominant hand and I slapped his bony ass. Don’t judge me, he was in the perfect position, you would have done it as well.

But yeah, I did sprint, I thought I sprinted before, that was nothing, I was going to pass out by the time I got to my room this time around. I quickly closed the door and locked it as I saw the red hair running after me. He was pissed, he was banging on my door yelling incoherent things. I got my notepad and I wrote a message, ripped the page out and slid it under the door. 

Silence

A few minutes passed, I think he has given up, but oh no, I was so wrong skinny legend went ahead and climbed up to my balcony. He was standing at the glass doors, fuming as he pressed the now crinkled note I wrote to the window. All I could do was burst out laughing. It has been so long since I laughed like that, I assume he heard it, hearing my voice is probably the only think that kept me alive that day. When I stopped laughing I looked at the note one more time and genuinely smiled.

“It jiggled” Was all it said.

That was the beginning of our friendship, he will say we aren’t friends, but we both know that’s a lie, he loves my company and can’t live without it. That night was one of the few nights I didn’t drink or take any drugs. At some point, after showering. We both passed out in my bed during our arguing.

[gimmeyoon]

Say My Name

     ↳ Pairing: Seokjin x Reader | Mentions of Hoseok x Reader

     ↳ Setting: Beetlejuice AU

     ↳ Word Count: 6.4k

     ↳ Warnings: death, dirty talk, degradation, exhibition kink, lingerie kink, oral (f & m), unprotected sex (but it’s ghost sex and ghost’s don’t have little ghost babies or stds, unlike you, you alive human. It’s a present, wrap it).

     ❝So, you died. You’ve come to terms with it; watching over your boyfriend as you’re stuck haunting the apartment you used to live in. But now, he’s bringing new girls around, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t scare them off and you can’t leave. Time to call the ghost with the most for a little bio-exorcism, baby.❞  

Alternatively: ❝ You, your “no respect for the dead” boyfriend, and the ghost with the most: a hauntingly good time.❞

     ↳ A/N:  This beautiful header would not be possible without the goddess @/kinktae. My version was so ugly, on god. (Also clearly I made it before I was gimmeyoon and Idk where the original is so I’ll just suffer)

     Also yes, this is a Halloween fic two days after Halloween let’s pretend this never happened and this was posted when it should have been uwu

     You're dead.

     It's not as strange or as extravagant as some people might think. It's mostly spending every second of your day in your apartment. An introvert's dream.

     You're pretty sure every college student has joked about being hit by a campus bus to either get out of your finals, have your tuition paid, or whatever other inconvenience one could imagine poor driving and forgetting to look both ways could help remedy.

     Except it didn't really fix anything, and you weren't asking for it. It just happened and you died.

     It wasn't worth it.

     But you’re dead now, and that’s just life, or you guess death.

     Pros of being dead: you know thanks to your haunting situation, that your boyfriend Hoseok got all ‘As’ for the first-time last semester.

     The haunting situation is something you hadn't expected. You're not sure you would call yourself a skeptic, but you certainly didn't imagine people were tied to their homes for decades with no where else to go. You suppose it's nice that you get to watch over Hoseok, but it's not like he'll be here forever.

     He was so sad at first, it broke your heart. But he’s healing, and every day you try to leave him little promises that you’re still there like spraying your perfume in your room so that he smells you when he wakes up in the morning or by helping him keep the place clean. He hasn’t noticed really any of it, which you think is strange, since he must realize he doesn’t clean enough for the place to look like this.

     That’s your life now, literally Hoseok’s maid. There’s nothing else you can do. You tried leaving the apartment once, and you were met with a creature you’ve never seen before and hope to never see again. It was otherworldly, that's all you can really say to describe it. You suppose you are too now.

     You’re not sure if you can die again, probably not, but if you could, that thing would be the cause.

     Hoseok turns off the light in the hallway as he walks back into your bedroom. He always looked so cute when he was sleepy; his hair ruffled and a small smile on his face. He crawls into his side of the bed, something that makes your heart fond. He still leaves space for you.

     You lay down beside him, as you do every night. You turn to look at him, and for a moment it seems like he’s looking back at you. But he’s not. He never is.

     And as he closes his eyes, you place a kiss to his forehead that has him swatting as if there is a bug when you pull away.

     “Good night, Hoseok,” you said. “I love you.”

     You remember what it was like when he used to say it back. It made you feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

      One single pound against the door to your apartment has you jumping out of your skin. You remind yourself that you're dead as you pick up the heaviest object closest to you. It doesn't make your heart beat any slower.

     You slowly make your way towards the door, as you hear it unlocking, and when it swings open, Hoseok appears oh.

     You sigh in relief as you set the book you had grabbed down; not so sure it would have protected you anyways. Also, not so sure you needed protecting. So far, all the secrets to being dead were in a very dense book that you kept hidden from Hoseok in a box of your things that he had put in the back of your closet.

     “Oh, Hoseok,” you said, a light laugh falling from your lips. “I was so worried.”

     And then you see her. And before you can truly process what is happening, the thud happens again as he pushes her against the closed-again door.

     “Oh my god,” you breathe as a hand comes up to cover your eyes. “This is not happening.”

     You repeat this as you walk away from the entrance of the apartment to the kitchen. You consider looking for a knife, figuring a floating weapon would probably send the message you were looking to communicate, but a pull in your heart told you otherwise.

     Hoseok deserved to be happy. He deserved to move on, even though you were pretty sure the mourning period for dead-too-soon girlfriend and supposed love of your life was not over yet. Regardless, Hoseok deserved to be happy.

     You almost convince yourself that.

     But god damn it, you deserve to be happy too.

     Whatever Hoseok is doing, has that girl moaning obnoxiously loud, and if you have to hear that all night, you’ll go back to that creature in that wasteland and perish. It would probably be less painful than this. There's no way it could be worse.

     You hear the bedroom door click shut, and your body relaxes a little. You didn’t realize how tense you were until now. You move out in the living room, laying your head on one decorative pillow and pressing another over your exposed ear. If you’re lucky, it’ll be over quickly, and you can pretend this never happened.

     The TV turns on in front of you and you curse assuming you’ve laid down on the remote, but then you see it on the table.

     You sit up quickly, your eyes glued to the advertisement before you.

     "Do you have a human infestation that's making the afterlife, hell?" A man asks. He's sitting at a desk like he's a lawyer in one of those personal injury commercials, except you've never seen a lawyer with green hair like him. Regardless, you suppose it makes sense considering your heart has been seriously injured tonight.

     "Do you just want to spend your after-days in peace just as you were promised on Earth, but the living keep getting in the way? If you answered yes to either of these questions, then I'm the man to call. The world's leading bio-exorcist, I'll make sure those that are ruining your retirement from life get what they deserve. Just say my name three time."

     "Bio-exorcist?" you repeated, the word even feeling fake in your mouth. There was no way that was real.

     "New family move into your home? Landlord trying to remodel? Boyfriend sleeping around?" He seemed to lean forward and meet your eyes as he said that, as if he not only knew that was your exact situation but could also see you.

     It's enough to have you grabbing the remote quickly and turning the TV off. You take a few moments to calm down before lying back on the couch and closing your eyes.

     Of all the weird things about being dead, that might just be the weirdest.

     She left early the next morning and instead of your usual kind ways of reminding Hoseok you were still around, you settled on minor inconveniences.

     When he was watching basketball later that day, you kept changing the channel. When he made Ramen for dinner, you made it cold before he could even take his first bite. When he went to bed that night, you kept dropping things, so that he got too nervous to sleep.

     It was the only way you were able to say, 'I'm here, motherfucker, cut it out.'

     You were lucky your boyfriend was a scaredy. It wasn’t difficult to scare him.

     But as before, he doesn't think too much of it. Hoseok was easy to scare but a skeptic apparently. You considered cutting his hair in his sleep, how else would he explain that, but as you brushed his light brown hair away from his forehead. You couldn't bring yourself to do it.

     He had grown it out a little since you'd died, and you liked how it looked. You had been worried it was because he was too sad to go to the barber. You weren't 100% sure that wasn't the case, but he took care of it, and it was the first time in a while he had styled his hair with his forehead showing.

     It was nice but you sometimes wished you could just tell him you liked it. If only he could know that you thought he looked good that way.

     He has another girl over the next weekend and you consider cutting his hair anyways.

     The worst part is you mumble a thank you when you realize she's quieter than the last girl. You hate yourself for even thinking that. You hate that there's a situation where you would.

     You’re in the living room again, reading your guide to being dead, when the newspaper falls from the table. You flinch at the movement, and for a moment wonder if there's a ghost in this apartment.

     The next moment you're laughing lightly because of course there is.

     You pick it up, still laughing to yourself, when something catches your eye. It's opened to an ad, and it's the same man from the TV ad a week ago. He's definitely the same man, green hair slicked back and strikingly handsome, but this time he wears a black and white striped suit. The ad reads the same as the commercial the other day, he's the world's best bio-exorcist and he can get rid of your human infestation. His name is written in big letters behind his smiling face, 'Beetlejuice.'

     You're a little offended that he would refer to Hoseok as an infestation.

     Another weekend later it's another girl. You're beginning to think it's all too much.

    According to the book you’re stuck here for the next 125 years, and you’re not really in the mood to listen to Hoseok fuck whoever he pleases for the rest of his lease. God forbid he re-up it and stays another year.

     If there is a god. You're not so sure even though you suppose you're the leading expert on this now. Is this Hell? It couldn't be heaven. There was never any briefing on the whole god thing when you died. Maybe it's in that god-forsaken book. God-forsaken, that's how you feel.

     You say it without thinking the first time, just considering your options. “Beetlejuice.”

     The second time you say it you get a little thrill at the thought of that girl running out of the apartment terrified. “Beetlejuice.”

     The third time you hesitate for a moment. Hoseok does deserve to be happy. But then he moans, and you think he should rot. “Beetlejuice!”

     He appears before you in a flash of light, that as you falling back in shock onto the couch. You're not sure what you thought incantation would do, He’s not what you expected, much more casual than his lawyer-like commercials, wearing an oversized hoodie, skinny jeans, and sneakers. He would fit in on your college campus well, especially with his green hair.

     “Beetlejuice?” you ask, gaping up at him.

     “You rang?” he smiled. “God, nothing gets me off quite like a beautiful woman who can’t stop saying my name. Feel free to call me Seokjin from now on. I’d say we’re friends at this point, I mean look at us, who would have thought?”

     You sit there in silence just staring at him and letting the situation sink in. He came out of no where and said that.

     “Oh good, I called a pervert into my apartment.”

     “I believe you called the world’s leading bio-exorcist," he said, rolling his eyes.

     “Why does it sound like you’re the world’s only bio-exorcist.”

     He laughed at this throwing an arm over your shoulder. "You know, I get that a lot?"

     "You certainly don’t look like the world’s leading anything."

     “What not dressed for the job?” he frowned as he shook his head. Suddenly he snapped his fingers and he was wearing the black and white striped suit from the print ad. “What about now?”

     “Great,” you deadpanned.

     "Now, what seems to be the matter at hand?"

     As if on cue, Hoseok moans from the bedroom.

     "Got some noisy house guests?" he asked, a smirk on his face.

     "My boyfriend has no respect for the dead," you replied, staring intensely at the bedroom door.

     "Oh, love," he said. "what's it good for besides heart break?"

     You didn't answer him, your attention captured by the activities in the other room. It almost physically hurt, as if the sound could slap you across the face.

     "Listen, kid," he said, snapping his fingers and bringing your attention back to him. "I can help you fix this problem, but I'm going to need something else in return."

     "What do you need?" you asked, a bit skeptically. His ads never said anything about that and you sort of doubted that it was going to be a fair price. Maybe it was the suit that made you suspicious, the green hair, or maybe it was his general aura. It was probably all three together.

     "I'm what some might call, on the run," he said. "I was cursed into this horrible, dead end job, seriously no areas for advancement, just serving the dead for the rest of my life, and I couldn't take it anymore. So I left, but that made me a wanted man. If you want me to scratch your back, even though it is a wonderful back," he said, his eyes drifting to your ass and staying there for longer than you would like, "then I'll need you to scratch mine."

     "Sounds horrifying," you said, glaring at him.

     "Don't knock it until you try it, kid."

     "What do you need from me," you said, curtly.

    "To break the curse, I need to marry a living person. We'll get your boy out of here, get someone new to move in, you be my wing woman and then bada bing bada boom we've got a broken curse and human infestation taken care of."

     "What person in their right mind would marry a ghost?"

     Seokjin winks at you. "The ghost with the most baby, any guy or gal would be so lucky."

     “What’s he afraid of?” Seokjin asks later as the two of you stand over Hoseok as he sleeps.

     “Everything,” you replied.

    “Everything? Then why do you need my help?”

     “He’s not paying attention to anything I do I guess.”

     “Common problem in relationships. The chick just talk talk talks and the guy never listens.”

     “You’re an ass, you know that?”

     “An ass with a great ass,” he responds, turning his butt towards you and pulling your hand towards him.

     “Rot,” you respond, as you tear your hand from him before it touches it.

     “Somewhere I am, or I guess I probably already have.”

     “Yeah? How long have you been dead?”

     “700 years?” he says, looking off into the distance.

     “Jesus,” you said, shaking your head, eyes wide at the thought.

     “No, Seokjin. Jesus died nearly 2,000 years ago.”

     “Thanks for the history lesson, Beetlejuice.”

     “Stop,” he warned, his face growing dark and serious. “Call me Beetlejuice again, and I’ll eat your boyfriend.”

     “Can you eat him?” you asked warily, moving in between Hoseok and Seokjin.

     “Sure,” he said with a shrug. “Who’s going stop me?”

     “The laws of physics.”

     “If you can touch him you can eat him,” Seokjin said, placing a hand on Hoseok’s face, causing the latter to stir in his sleep.

     “Put that on a t-shirt.”

     “Done,” Seokjin said, snapping his fingers.

     You looked down to find a black t-shirt now adorning your body with the aforementioned phrase across from it.

     “You’re right, you shouldn’t be a civil servant. You should be in the t-shirt game,” you said before turning to walk to the kitchen.

    "Bio-exorcist by day," he said, his hands accenting his words dramatically as he followed you, "t-shirt entrepreneur by night," he seemed to consider it for a moment. "I like the way you think, kid."

     Seokjin pauses for a moment, just looking back at you as if he is trying to get a better sense of you.

    "If he’s scared of everything," Seokjin said. "Then this should be easy, but personally I think we should have fun with it. I mean, if I’m not scaring I’m not caring, you know?”

     "I know you're the expert," you said, raising your eyebrows in scrutiny. "but I don’t want to scare him too much. I mean I love him."

     "Listen babe, this isn’t about love it’s about respect and he’s not giving you that, Aretha Franklin style."

     "Please don’t sing."

     Of course he does his rendition of the song, accompanied by some minor choreography that makes you wonder if he’s done this before. He's actually a good singer though his future as a choreographer isn't looking good. It’s a little too on-the-nose dance wise.

     "What is your plan?" you asked cutting him off in the second verse of the song.

     "Well the way I see it we have a few options. Personally this wouldn't be the first time I turn into a gigantic snake and I’m guessing he’s afraid of snakes."

     "You’re right about the snakes," you said hopping up to sit on the counter, "and that’s exactly why I can’t let you turn into a gigantic one."

     "What’s the fun in that?" he asked. "Do you want him to leave this apartment and stop fucking random women in front of you or did you just call me for a good time? Frankly it’s not a good time without my gigantic snake," he said winking at the end which caused you to roll your eyes and scoff.

     You stared back at him unamused. "Think of something less scary but still scary enough to have him move out."

     "Toots, you’re putting me in a difficult situation," he said leaning back against the counter. "Just leave it the expert."

     "If you’re an expert you should be able to come up with a different plan."

     He smiled at this, though his gaze looked angry. "You drive a hard bargain," he said, laughing with little humor. "How do you feel about light possession?"

     "I don’t even know what that means," you said, your eyes wide. "How can you lightly possess someone?"

     "When you’re as good as me, you can do just about anything."

     "Sounds fake," you said, hopping down from the counter and moving back into the living room. "lets rule out any type of possession."

     "You’re really grabbing me by the balls and not in the way I like," he said following you into the living room and flopping down on the couch.

    "Does it look like I care what you like?"

    "Hey you’re the one who called me?" he said, looking at you accusatorially.

     "No one ever said I always make good decisions," you said, looking for the newspaper that had his ad in it. "How can I send you back?"

     "Hey let’s not act rationally," he said jumping up from the couch and walking quickly to you.

     "Don’t you mean rashly?" you asked, looking up at him for only a moment before looking for the paper again.

     "I said what I said and I meant it."

    "Come up with a good plan now," you said, giving up on finding the paper. "Or I’ll figure out how to send you back."

     "Fine, you’re really pulling my arm but what about this? I’m thinking classic haunting," he said, setting the stage with his movements. "I’m talking blood dripping down the walls, things falling off shelves, 'redrum' written on the mirror and the works. He’ll be running quicker than you can say 'boo.'"

    "I like that plan because it seems to include no potential physical harm."

    "I thought you might," he smirked.

    "So when do we do it," you asked.

     "Once he’s alone with nothing to distract him or try and explain it away."

     That time comes the next afternoon as you and Seokjin stand behind Hoseok as he sat on the couch. You and Seokjin's arms brush against each other and you immediately push him away. Seokjin looks over at you with minor annoyance on his face.

     "This is pretty lame, so if anyone asks, I was not a part of this," he said.

     "Don’t worry," you said. "I don’t think all I ever see anyone as I'm dead now but even if I did, you don't have to worry. I wouldn’t want to be associated with you."

     "Promise?" he asked, batting his eyelashes as if you had just said the nicest thing.

     "Swear on my death."

     Seokjin nods his head, before turning to look down at Hoseok. "Now," he said, before disappearing before your very eyes. 

     It even sends a chill up your spine, so you almost feel bad for what all of this is going to do to Hoseok. You pull the lipstick out of your pocket. You had grabbed it earlier from the box of your things in the back of the closet. A small part of you wished he would recognize the color and realize you were here with him. A larger part of you knew that would never happen.

     You walk to the mirror at the entrance of the apartment and write 'redrum' in the scariest font you can manage with the lipstick.

     You feel something drip on you as your writing and look up to find Seokjin has already started the blood effect wherever he's gone off to.

     You make your way to the TV, rubbing the blood on your jeans as you move, and for a moment just stand in between Hoseok and the device. You think of the few times you've done it before, where Hoseok has whined and asked you to move out of the way so he could keep watching the game or whatever it was that was on.

     Now he looks right through you. He has no idea you're even there. It still stings as much as it first did. You turn away from him to write on the TV screen. You touch the lipstick to the screen just as Hoseok cures behind you.

     "What the fuck?" he said, standing up from the couch and moving to the entry way of the apartment.

     You almost feel giddy as he looks up at the blood staining the walls.

    "I can't fucking believe it," he said, shaking his head. "This fucking landlord."

     Hoseok ran his hands over his face in exasperation before pulling his phone out and taking some pictures of the blood, not even seeming to notice the writing on the mirror. Just then Seokjin pushed all of his textbooks off of the table, but Hoseok didn't even flinch.

     "Hey," Hoseok said his phone to his ear. "Yeah, the pipes burst again, and I really need you to fix it this time," he huffed at whatever was said on the other line. "No, I know you said you fixed, but I'm telling you there's shit coming down my walls again."

     "If that's what his shit looks like," Seokjin said as he reappeared beside you, causing you to gasp and flinch in shock, "then he seriously has a problem and needs to get it checked out."

     "I don't understand," you said, motioning to Hoseok grabbing his jacket and heading out of the apartment. "He didn't even see the word on the mirror. I mean this is the shit that has people running out of the building in terror in movies." "The living have no respect for the dead," Seokjin shrugged. "Not to mention your plan sucked."

     "This was your plan," you reminded him.

     "I told you it wasn’t enough."

     "You are the worst," you yelled as you made your way to the bedroom. "I swear to god, you have been nothing but a headache since you got here. You're not the world's leading bio-exorcist your the world's leading pain in the ass."

    "Oh I'd love to be a pain in you ass," he said following behind you. "Say the word, and I'll lube up."

     "If you weren't already dead I would murder you."

     "The feeling is mutual," he said, stepping closer to you. "Do you know what I think?"

     "I don't care whatever it is."

     "I think you don't actually want your boy to leave," he stepped closer again, causing you to step back. "I think you want him to finally notice you. You want him to realize you're here and stop fucking those other girls."

     "Wow, did you get a PhD in stating the obvious? Of course I want the man I love to realize I’m still here. I love him, you asshole."

     "Then why did you call a bio-exorcist?" he asked, backing you into the wall. "You're wasting my time."

     "Because nothing I do makes him notice me," you said, fighting the urge to spit in his face.

     "I don't think you're trying hard enough," he said, just as the door to the apartment opened again. "Why don't I help you?" he said, leaning in so that his face was mere centimeters from yours. "Have you tried some good old-fashioned ghost moaning?"

     Your breath catches in your throat as whatever insult you had prepared dies on your tongue. You loathe Seokjin, but the idea of getting back at Hoseok has you contemplating his suggestion.

     "Hm," Seokjin mused as you didn't respond. "Ghost got your tongue?"

    "Shut up, and put it to good use," you said, leaning in the rest of the way and pulling him into a hungry kiss.

    Seokjin kisses down the length of your body, working quickly on your pants as soon as he reaches the waist band. You step out of your pants and despite his previous pace, he stops to look at your underwear, a frown on his face. He looks up at you slowly.

    "I'm going to need to fix that," he said, before snapping his fingers.

    "If you gave me a dick, I'll actually feed you to the snake thing I ran into the other day," you said hurriedly as you looked down.

    Seokjin laughed loudly as he pulled on your arm to move you to the bed. He had replaced your underwear, switching out the cotton panties for a strappy red lace number, that you would never consider buying.

    "You like lingerie," you said under your breath, lying down and looking up at the ceiling as your racing heart calmed down.

    "Where'd you go?" he asked, crawling back on top of you.

    "I'm having ghost sex," you said, laughing a little bit at the end.

    "Great ghost sex," he winked, before helping you take your shirt off as well. He replaced your bra as well, the crimson matching set striking compared to what you normally wore.

    "Beautiful," he mumbled, kissing your breast over the bra, before looking at you with a devilish grin. "How long until Hoseok comes into the bedroom?"

    "We'll find out sooner or later," you mumbled as he kissed the band of your panties.

    "Do you think it'll be before the first time you cum?" he asked, kissing your clit through the panties. "Or do you think it'll be before the second time?"

    "Definitely before the third," you said, causing Seokjin to laugh.

    "Greedy slut," he said, before sucking at your clit, the barrier of the panties causing you to whine for more.

    "Pervert," you breathed as he gripped tightly to his hips. "You'd love to watch me get off three times."

    "You know," he said, his finger sliding under the band of you underwear. "You really annoy me."

    "The feeling is mutual," you said, lightly pushing his head back towards your core. "Scratch my back and I'll scratch your's."

    "You drive a hard bargain," he winked before pulling the lingerie off of your body. He sat it down beside you instead of throwing it on the ground and you considered teasing the delicate way he treated it, but just as you formulated your remark, he liked a strip up your cunt, having you sigh in satisfaction.

    You're not surprised that he teases you, giving your clit the attention it wants, only to take it away again, laughing lightly against you. He takes pleasure in your moans, his hands gripping more tightly at your hips every time you get lost in the pleasure. It seems to ground you in the moment.

    You're close to reaching your high when you hear the door open and look over to see Hoseok entering the room.

    Seokjin stops his movements and looks up, causing you to whine lightly.

    "Before the first time," he shrugged, before looking at you with a smirk. "Louder," he said before burying his head between your legs again.

    He harshly sucked your clit into his mouth, and you didn't hold back the moan that started in the pit of you chest. Hoseok is unaware of your presence, but your knowledge of his has each movement of Seokjin's tongue feeling better and better.

    You never knew you would like this, but as you think about every girl you heard in this room you feel desire grow in the pit of your stomach. Your reaching your peak quickly, your hands winding into Seokjin's hair as you cum hard on his tongue.

    You're panting when Seokjin comes back up a smirk on his face. "Scratch mine," he said, pulling his shirt over his head.

   You roll your eyes in response, but your hands come up to undo his belt. The two of you work to rid him of his jeans and you can only scoff in response when Seokjin props himself up against the headboard of the bed, his arms crossed behind his head.

   "Can you make him see us?" you whispered, a bit embarrassed by the question.

   Seokjin looked over at Hoseok and shrugged. "Maybe. If I turned into a cyclops he would probably notice us, but he could see us right now if he paid attention to the strange and unusual."

   "Yes, that's exactly how I'd describe fucking you."    "Less talk," he said, his eyes narrowing.

   "Mhm," you hummed as you ran your hands up his thighs. You kiss his cock lightly over his boxer briefs, before hooking your fingers into the band and pulling them down. You must gape slightly at the size of his dick, because Seokjin laughs lightly. When you look up at him he seems pretty proud of himself.

   "I said it was a gigantic snake."

   "Choke," you said, rolling your eyes.

   "Say please, and I will," he winked, looking down at your throat.

   You rolled your eyes, as you took his cock in your hand, to which Seokjin took a sharp breath.

   "Interesting," you said, looking up at him with a wink. "It looks like you're the one who should be saying please."    "Listen, babe, I'm not about begging."

   You chuckled lightly, before licking up the length of his cock. You took the tip into your mouth, sucking lightly, and then taking him in deeper.

   Seokjin moans loudly and you wonder partly if you're actually doing that good of a job or if he's trying to catch Hoseok's attention.You can't watch your boyfriend from this angle, so instead you imagine what he's doing. The thought that he could be standing shocked behind you, too caught off guard to do anything but watch has your pussy clenching around nothing and desire building in your core again.

    "Fuck," Seokjin said. "Swallow."

     And you do, swallowing around him before he comes and after, pulling your mouth off of him as he smiles with his eyes closed.

    "Watch this," he said, looking back at you and winking, before he snapped his fingers. He's hard again instantly, which is a little unsettling and the grimace on your face must communicate as such.

    "I never thought it was fair girls could just cum again if they wanted to."

    "Really?" you said, as he grabbed your hand and pulled you towards him so you were straddling his lap. "I never thought it was fair guys came practically every time we had sex and I was lucky to come 1/4 of the time."

   "Very unfair," Seokjin said, nodding his head. "I've always recognized the power of the female orgasm."    "Why don't I believe you?"

   "Because you're horribly mean to me."

   "Poor baby," you said, lining yourself up above his cock. "The girl that just sucked your dick makes fun of you."

   "I liked it better when you had a dick in your mouth and couldn't talk."

   "I liked it better when you were too fucked out to say something gross."    "Then let's get to it," he said, his hands gripping at your ass as you sank down on him.

   The stretch has you moaning, and despite your abhorrence that he was right, Seokjin does have a big dick and the way it fills you is delicious. He gives you a moment to adjust before his hands are helping you ride him, his mouth moving to suck at your neck.

   When he pulls away he doesn't look at you, but behind you.

   "You want him to see? Be too loud for him to ignore," he said, looking back at you. "Show him how mad he made you. Show him what he's missing. Show him two people can play his game."

   You moan in response, turning your body to see Hoseok. He's sitting at his desk, likely doing school work, none the wiser that two dead people are fucking in his bed. He briefly turns towards the bed, his eyes seeming to fall on your body just as Seokjin moves again to suck at the other side of your neck.

  "Maybe if he sees us we can both fuck you," Seokjin said before biting at your ear. "Would you like that?"

   "Seokjin,” you moan.

   “You want to remind him how good you take dick.”

   “Seokjin,” you moan just as he thrusts deeper into you. “Seokjin.”

   "You act like a prude," Seokjin said, moaning as he thrusts up into you. "But you're really a slut aren't you? You'd do anything to get back at him."

   "Yes," you moaned, turning back to Seokjin. "Fuck me so good he can't ignore us," you said.

   "What do you think I've been trying to do," Seokjin grunted, thrusting up into you again.

    You're reaching your high a few thrusts later, moaning louder than you ever have as Seokjin cums inside of you at the same time.

   The two of you are panting, lying chest to chest on the bed as you ground yourself back in reality. When you roll off of him you look over to see Hoseok still studying.

   You feel better knowing you weren't powerless in this situation, that you too could move on, but something in you wishes he had opened his eyes and seen it. Some untapped kink you didn't even know existed until Seokjin came into your death.

     The new plan might involve some physical injury. You've made Seokjin promise that he wouldn't, but frankly everything about Seokjin materializing as the girl from The Grudge sounds like someone's getting hurt, and probably not Seokjin. Hoseok is dancing through the hallway to the kitchen when Seokjin appears at the end of it. Or rather, the little nightmare girl he's pretending to be.

    Hoseok doesn't notice at first, he's looking down at his feet as follows the melody of the song, but when he finally looks up, all of the color drains from his face and he stops in his tracks.

    He blinks his eyes rapidly, as if he has something in his eyes rather than the physical embodiment of evil being a few feet from him, but soon his body catches up with his mind and he's running from the house.

     He screams as he runs and you flinch when he almost trips over one of his shoes, that you have the sneaking suspicion Seokjin placed in his way.

     He doesn't come back, or at least not alone. Yoongi and Namjoon, his friends from school, come back with him to help him get his stuff and move out. A couple of times Yoongi teases Hoseok for being afraid of this place, because it's the least haunted apartment he's ever been in. Namjoon scolds him and points to the box in the back of the closet with your name on it.

    You've already gone through it and taken out anything you want to keep yourself. It was mostly just a few pictures of the two of you and your favorite lipstick that you never put back. You hid them in the couch cushions and hoped that they didn't check for lose change or anything.

     A few months pass and no one moves in. Seokjin thinks rumors probably spread after Hoseok ran from the place screaming so no one wants to move in.

     You figure he's right, because you certainly wouldn't want to.

     It's strange how the two of you start to move and live comfortably around each other, though it is unfair that Seokjin can leave. He usually spends all day with the living and comes back to tell you something interesting he learned.

     You feel even more like a housewife than you did with Hoseok. At least now you get to hear about your hard-working "husbands" day.

     It’s half a year later when someone finally comes to tour the apartment. You and Seokjin are making out on the bed when you hear the landlord enter and soon Seokjin is tearing his lips from your breast and looking in the direction of the entrance.

     "Finger's crossed they can see dead people," he said winking at you.

    "Apartment tour and a show," you laughed, pushing him off of you.

    The two of you make your way to the living room to see who would be so lucky to call Seokjin their future husband potentially. You almost fall on the floor with laughter as she comes into view.

    Standing in he living room with your ex-landlord is a woman who must be nearly 80 years old.

    “What?" Seokjin asks, over your laughter.

    “I don’t know how much longer your future bride will be living.

    “How horrible of you? Where are your manners? That is my wife!”

    "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you said, waving your hand at him. "I don't mean to be ageist, I just know your little pervert brain did not have this in mind."

     "Please don't call me a pervert in front of my wife," he said, pushing you to the side. "I think you're just jealous?"

     "Of who?" you asked, laughing harder. "You? Or the woman you're going to try and convince to marry a dead man?"

    "If you want to marry me, just say so," he smirked.

    "Not even if you were the last dead man in this apartment."

© gimmeyoon — all rights reserved. reposting, modifying, or translation onto other sites even with proper credit given is not permitted.

[bit-of-a-fuqboi]

Title: Running the bases

Steve was both shocked and annoyed when it was announced Billy had quit the basketball team to join the baseball team. Steve admits, reluctantly, that his annoyance has as much to do with not being able to creep on him anymore, as it has to do with the fact that their best chance of a championship is with him on their team. His shock was simply because, well, Billy had the kind of skills that made other guys envious. He was an amazing player. The kind to win championships. Real scholarship material. It just confused Steve to no end why he would throw that away.

It turned out he didn't. Word got around quickly that Billy's skill on the field was as good, if not better, as it was on the court. And Steve, well, Steve felt his annoyance only grow. Is there anything he can't do! Steve found himself silently fuming as he angrily chewed on his sandwich. 

The sudden sound of laughter, and many stomping feet, interrupted his brooding. He looks up and sees Billy for the first time since he quit—and he’s completely geared up from head to toe in the school's green and white baseball uniform.

The uniform clings to every single contour of muscle you can imagine. He struts through the quad like he owns it, and with each step Steve is hypnotized by the bulge of his biceps through the fabric and the pop of both of his pecs in his shirt. A shirt that is tucked into the tightest, sexiest pair of baseball knickers complete with green belt and green piping down the sides. His socks hug two thick, muscular calves, and he’s got on the green and white cleats. He even has on his green cap, and the dabbed eye black across the tops of his cheeks is smeared from practice. Whoa.

"You might want to pick your jaw up from the floor Harrington, you look like your about to start drooling"

Shaken from his stupor he turns to see a girl he doesn't know smirking at him, she looks familiar though… maybe we have a class together?

"No It's not! I'm not… It's not… I mean … I don't know what you mean" Yeah that's not suspicious. Great save Harrington.

"Whatever dingus" She says with a snort and walks off. Steve is sure he hears her mutter "I don't know what they see in you" as she walks away.

With a feeling, almost like panic, creeping in, Steve has a very sudden urge to escape the area before anyone else notices his weirdness. Throwing his half eaten sandwich in the bin he makes a beeline for the school.

He makes it halfway down the first corridor before he is suddenly shoved into a storage closet.

"What the actual fuck!" Steve likes to think he yelled, but suspects he screamed. High pitched and embarrassing. Fuck! Could this day get any worse.

The light switches on, and he's temporarily blinded by the brightness but as soon as his eyes adjust he's greeted by grinning Billy Hargrove. Yep, it just got worse.

"Miss me Harrington" he asks.

"Like the clap" Steve answers automatically, regretting it immediately. Steve was certain that he just escalated the situation to a fist fight, a fist fight in a small enclosed space where he is not likely to come out on top, but instead Billy just laughs. 

"I saw you checking out the new uniform." At the reminder Steve can't stop his eyes from trailing up Billy's body, but when he reaches his face he is met with an intense glare. Billy's arms are crossed and he looks about nine feet tall from Steve's corner of the closet. All those muscles... His shoulders are so broad they actually block the exit. There is no escape. Fuck! He's going to kill me, either literally or from sexual frustration, both are very real options at this point.

"So what do ya think pretty boy? Think I'll be able to slide home with how wet I'll be making the chicks at this school?" He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. No, instead he has that same invasive, hypnotizing look. The one that seems to see right through him.

To his horror Steve realises he's not scared in the least by how Billy’s looking at him. Instead, it's worse, he's turned on. Turned on by the strange intensity in Billy's eyes, by the bulges his biceps make when his arms are folded in that tight uniform, and that he could break him in half with little effort. 

"So gross dude" Steve answers, all the while silently panicking as he feels pre-cum beginning to leak and soak through his fast tightening underwear.

Billy's eyes draw down Steve's body appraisingly. He licks his lips—naturally reminding Steve that they are very much still there, and very much still plush and kissable as ever—and says "So, you ever feel up a baseball player?"

Steve freezes. He’s no longer blinking. His mouth can’t close. Steve waits for Billy to laugh it off, or maybe mock him some more but instead he takes a step closer.

Slowly, Billy brings a finger to the collar of Steve's shirt and hooks it inside. "C’mon, Harrington." Then he gives it a tug, the top button coming undone with surprising ease. "Tell me you aren't curious to know what's been driving these bitches crazy. It’s the stuff of legends, man." Steve's heart hammers away. His knees quake. "Half the writing on the bathroom walls is about what I’m packing.” Billy pops another button."Go ahead,” he coaxes, his voice silky smooth and languid, “Touch me.”

Time seemed to slow down and the world around them became blurred and unfocused. All that existed in that moment was them.They stared at each other in silence; the only sound in the closet was their ragged breathing. 

Steve made the decision, refusing to overthink, and reached out and ran his hands across Billy’s flat, muscular stomach. He was fascinated by the warm radiating through Billy's uniform. His fingers traced the hard muscles before moving to Billy’s hips. He took a moment to rub his palms over the belt, before slowly moving his hands around to the dimples of his ass in those tight pants.

It’s not lost on Steve that Billy's crotch is bulging dramatically. Holy shit; he’s getting off on this weird as fuck scenario too.

“Like how my ass feels Harrington?” he asks. 

“Yes” Steve chokes out.

“Unbuckle me.” 

Steve's didn't have to be told twice. His fingers fumble with the belt, hands shaking with excitement. Next comes the button of his pants and then the zipper, which slowly parts the dirt covered white sea of fabric to reveal his thick, hard cock enclosed in a white jock. Steve groaned at the sight. Why the fuck is he not wearing briefs? Steve looks up and Billy just cocks an eyebrow and smirks. Steve could feel his racing heartbeat pulsing in his ears. Why am I even questioning this?

Steve wraps his hand around Billy and starts to palm him through the flimsy underwear. Billy takes a shaky breath, but doesn’t do anything else. Challenge accepted motherfucker! Steve tightens his grip and picks up his pace.  

At first Billy just smiles smugly, then his breathing begins to get heavier. After a minute he’s practically panting. Steve smirks “Out of breath already Hargrove? How are you going to make it around all the bases with stamina like this?”   

Without warning Billy grasps Steve's shirt, pulls his face to his and fucking devours his mouth. Steve felt like he was just a piece of meat, a toy for Billy's own personal use. That really shouldn’t be hot. Steve realises he's now practically clawing Billy's back as Billy's reaches around to cup his ass. They’re both moaning into each other's mouth as their hips press firmly together. 

The sound of the bell ringing brings reality crashing down on Steve. It’s the middle of the day and they are on school grounds. Anyone could catch them. 

Steve breaks away from Billy and says “C’mon we need to head to class. Lunch is over. I can’t be late to biology, Mr Greene will have my ass.”

“But I want to have that ass.” Billy says as he squeezes Steve's ass cheeks. 

Steve wavers for a moment, but then Billy says "It's not like you were going to contribute, or even pay attention"

What the fuck! Steve pulls completely away and scowls. "Fuck you Hargrove"

Billy lifts an eyebrow. “Did I strike a nerve? It's not like you're known for your scholastic aptitude. I was just saying there's a better use of your time”

Steve ignores him, and buttons up his shirt.

"I really didn't mean anything by it." Billy says.

Steve just glares and shoves his way towards the door. Annoyingly the shoulder charge hurt him more than the wall of muscle previously blocking the exit.

"C'mon Harrington we didn't even get to third base" Billy jokes. 

Steve rolls his eyes, unimpressed with Billy's lame attempt to lighten the mood. Of course Billy refuses to give up. “You have a great grip, by the way.” 

"Wasn’t much to grip,” Steve shoots back. Billy grins. 

“Maybe you need another grip to remind yourself, pretty boy. I doubt you can wrap your whole hand around it.”

Steve stops with the door half open and turns to Billy. "You know, for a moment there, I almost forgot you were an asshole."

"Steve—"

"I don't want to hear it. This will never happen again" Steve says, then turns to leave. As he walks away however all he could think was "I really want it to happen again"

As he rounded the corner, Billy yells "This ain't finished Harrington.", and Steve shivers as his pulse spikes from excitement. Maybe I really am an idiot because there was no doubt it wasn't.

This was only meant to be a short thing but it got a little out of control lol The fic was inspired by someone post about a baseball au headcannon. I cannot for the life of me locate the post, if you know it please tell me and I will link.

[chromecutie]

Not A Ghost - part 32

A/N - Multi-part fic. Colossus x OC where OC has come home after being wrongfully imprisoned in the Icebox. Warnings for whole fic - references and flashbacks to harsh prison environment, including various types of abuse. Takes place shortly after events in Deadpool 2. Whole thing will end up on my AO3 eventually.

Masterlist on my profile!

Taglist: @emma-frxst  @ra-ra-rasputiin  @holamor ​  @empressme-bitch  @marvel-is-perfection  @hazilyimagine ​ @marvelhead17 @rovvboat @angstybadboytrash ​ @whitewitchdown ​ @master-sass-blast ​ @mori-fandom @mooleche @dandyqueen @emberbent @leo-writer . Wanna be added or removed? Holla at me.

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Sleeping next to Wade wasn’t the same thing as being at home, but they had both woken up less stiff than they would have if they’d slept separately. Even better, Rhonda felt keen, determined, even a little optimistic.

“Stay sharp,” Rhonda warned Wade over their cold sausage and some oatmeal that could be used to cover cracks in drywall. “After last night, I have a feeling one or both of us might get stabbed today.”

“Oh really?” Wade asked as if she had just told him she thought it might rain. “Just a feeling, or do you say that because of the guy behind you twirling a shiv?” Her eyes shot wide and he nodded, “Yeah, he’s looking at you, ready to snap into a Slim Jim. Move left in three...two...yup--” 

Rhonda ducked, covering her head and neck with her hands as Wade flung his plastic spork at a scrawny, dark haired man who let out a gargling shriek when it plunged into his neck, just above his collar. A sharpened piece of plastic that used to be a pen fell from his hand and clattered to the floor. Wade complained, “Dammit! I missed his eye!”

The nearest guard rushed over and glared at Rhonda, “What the hell happened over here?” His hand was quick to tighten over the cattle prod on his belt. 

“I don’t know,” she scoffed. “I don't know this guy. He just fell. Right, Wade?”

Wade replied around a big mouthful of sausage, “He’zh clumzhy on that toi-let wine.” He threw up his hands in an exaggerated shrug. Rhonda mimicked the shrug and took a bite of oatmeal, trying not to gag on it.

Boots thumped on concrete as a second guard showed up, and scowling at Wade and Rhonda, they both dragged the wailing man away toward the infirmary.

With a furtive glance around the mess hall, Rhonda caught a brief glimpse of Mimi a few tables away giving the slightest nod. Apparently, the man wasn’t part of the Vicious 13, and they wouldn’t have to worry about punishment. Lucky.

When Rhonda sighed and pushed her tray toward Wade, he eagerly took up her spork and finished off her oatmeal. How he could seem to enjoy the food was beyond Rhonda.

The Icebox didn't have a yard to speak of - at least not an outdoor yard. Built into the side of a snow capped mountain, the entire complex was indoor. A sealed box. There was a large central space, lined with the cell blocks that stretched for what felt like miles. In the middle of that was a large, open space where the mess hall and "yard" blurred into each other. Past the tables and benches of the mess hall were the weight racks, a pair of basketball goals, and some other equipment, most of it damaged from years of riots. There were very few fluorescent lights. Instead, most of the lighting came from the skylights several stories above. On a bright day, the lighting might have felt like a shopping mall, but there were no bright days on this mountaintop.

After breakfast, Wade and Rhonda hadn’t been put on any duties, so they were free to make their attempts at recreation in the yard. They had settled on a suspiciously rickety weight bench near some other members of the Vicious 13.

As they got the barbell ready for a few sets of bench press, they watched over each other’s shoulders, wary for another potential attack. The barbell was lopsided - there weren’t enough plates to make it even, so Wade pressed some of his own weight on the lighter side for Rhonda’s sets. She was on her second set when a pair of inmates approached.

“Hey, V-One-Three,” one greeted, “Can you add us to your rotation for a few sets?”

Rhonda sat up and before she could answer, the second inmate let out a startled hiss of, “Oh, shit.” They muttered a hurried excuse and quickly walked away. She watched them another moment, then rolled her eyes and laid on the bench again to finish her set.

“Okay, seriously,” Wade said, “Why does everyone in here wanna kill you or avoid you like a celebrity with a rape scandal?”

She puffed a breath, pushing harder against Wade’s resistance. “You know how when dirty cops go to jail, they get sent somewhere outside their county, or out of state? So they don’t have to be in general pop with the people they arrested?”

Wade started snickering. He coughed a little, but still tried to keep his weight consistent on the bar.

Rhonda took a deep breath before her next rep. “Well when I first got here, I was sure there had been a mistake and I made a big deal about being part of X-Men. Guess who put a bunch of people in here.”

“The Avengers?” When she leveled a stony glare on him, he chuckled a little more before asking, “Okay, so what else?”

She shifted uncomfortably, and racked the bar for a moment to catch her breath between sets. She tugged at her sleeve to make sure most of her Xs were covered. “Eventually, I...snapped.”

Wade rolled his eyes. “What does it look like when lawful good snaps? Quit saying ‘bless you’ when someone sneezes?”

Rhonda looked up at him, rusty barbell between them. “I started doing what everyone in here does. Stabbing kidneys, slashing thighs. But then I escalated. I broke a couple necks, and…” she took a deep breath and shuddered.

Wade smiled, a twinkle gleaming in his eye. Rhonda whispered something too soft for him to hear. “Hm?” he held a hand to his ear.

A voice near Rhonda’s feet said, “She slashed a motherfucker open and pulled out his intestines with her bare hands.”

Rhonda ducked under the bar to sit bolt upright, a shiv glinted in her hand. The blue-haired man she had pointed out to Wade when they first arrived stood before them. His arms were crossed, his deep bronze skin seemed dull compared to the bright blue of his cornrows.

Wade’s jaw dropped. Then he gave Rhonda a slow clap. “Look at you! Giving Arya Stark a run for her money! Miss Murder’n’Mayhem!”

The inmate bared his teeth, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes, “She took a bite, too. I seen it.” He turned his gaze to Wade and pointed at Rhonda, “This psycho bitch bit off a guard’s finger too. If she’s using you for a slampiece, you better watch yourself.”

When Wade looked at Rhonda again, she was perfectly still, her features void of any emotion. “You have a lot of fingers for someone doing so much talking,” she warned.

Wade made a big show of grimacing and groaning, “Cannibalism? Really?”

The blue-braided inmate shrugged, “Nah, I know you won’t fuck with me. I ain’t given you any reason. Besides, you slash a V-One-Three? Mimi won’t have that. See how quick she makes you disappear.” His chin jutted upward, absolutely arrogant. It annoyed Rhonda, but he wasn’t wrong.

She lowered her shiv, but didn’t put it away. Cold glare fixed on the newcomer, she asked, “You need something, Janks?”

He waved vaguely toward the bench she sat on, “This bar’s in the V-One-Three section. Any of us can use it. Now move so I can do a set. I’ve got messages from Mimi.”

She hesitated to move. “If Mimi’s got something to say to me, she can tell me herself.”

Janks gave another mirthless smile, “Mimi is a busy lady.”

Sharing a pointed look with Wade, she reluctantly got up and let Janks settle. Wade coughed again, so Rhonda had him lean on the heavier side of the bar, so he could have it easier and she could lean with her own weight on the lighter side to Janks’s satisfaction.

Janks was surprisingly strong. He pumped each rep quickly, raw power in his lean muscles. He puffed a breath with each rep. “Mimi says - hhh - she knows the right snake hole - hhh - to get to the top of - hhh - the mountain.”

“Nice code,” Wade quipped. “A little on the nose for my taste, but--”

“What else did Mimi tell you?” Rhonda asked with a sharp edge in her voice.

“Hhh - Nothin’ she doesn’t trust me with,” Janks evaded. “There’s something - hhh - you’ll have to take care of - hhh - she says you’ll know what to do.” 

He paused at the end of his set, and Rhonda let him breathe a second before she pressed, “That’s it? She didn’t give any details?”

Janks scoffed, “How many fuckin’ details you need, Guestbook, huh? I told you everything I’m supposed to.” He curled a finger, signaling he was ready for another set. 

Practically hovering over his face, Rhonda gave a quiet snarl, “Whatever it is, if Mimi’s not happy, you better hope it wasn’t because of a communication error.”

Janks worked another two sets before he left them alone. Wade was coughing too much for Rhonda to let him do a set at all, and instead they took a worn deck of playing cards to one of the tables at the edge of the mess hall. As she started shuffling the deck, careful not to tear the corners any worse than they already were, Wade asked, “You really eviscerated somebody and then made a snack of him?”

Rhonda clenched her jaw so hard Wade could hear her teeth grinding. “I did the guard’s finger, yes. But the first guy...I spat some blood at somebody. You know how stories get twisted.”

“Uh-huh,” he was trying not to laugh.

“This isn’t something I’m proud of,” she snapped, her voice still raspier than usual. “The first time I killed someone, I couldn’t hold any food down for days. And later, I...I either got used to it, or I got better at not thinking about it." She paused and dropped her voice to a near whisper and looked away, "I don’t know which is worse.” Her teeth ground again as she pursed her lips and started dealing the deck evenly between herself and Wade.

His expression softened. “We won’t be here long,” he assured her. “The gang’s probably already on their way here. What’s the plan for these collars? I have a feeling you’ve been making decisions without cluing me in...”

“Let’s play War,” Rhonda flipped the top card of her deck - a queen of spades with her faces scratched out. Wade revealed a three of hearts, and Rhonda took both for her pile. “Mimi will get into the control office and let us in. Until then, we keep her happy doing whatever she tells us.”

Wade started to laugh, but it quickly turned into coughs again. “You let the snake lady gang lord be in charge of the most important part of our plan? Why did you agree to that?” He flipped a seven of diamonds, which beat Rhonda’s two of clubs. 

“I got her to buy in on getting the fuck out of here.” She surreptitiously glanced around, checking for anyone listening.

“I don’t like the sound of that,” he grumbled as they tied the next round and each laid out three cards for battle. “You don’t strike me as much of a diplomatic type. What did you promise her?”

Rhonda won the next round and leaned close. “Every inmate in here would give anything to get these collars off. I promised Mimi that if she helps us, she can take collars off whoever she wants.”

Wade fidgeted with the corner of his next card. “And if she chooses people who can wreck our shit?”

She shrugged. “When I first got mine off, I couldn’t do anything. It was a couple days before I could even make sparks again. There’s a chance that the collars affect other people like that too, especially the ones who’ve had them a long time. Their abilities will probably be lessened.”

“I smell a whole lot of maybe in that idea…”

“What other options do you see, Wade?” She slapped her next card on the table. “If we had a year, we could build a cover, we could get a guard in our pocket, make some hiding places, but this is the best we can do right now.” She shook her head and muttered, “Besides, it’s not like we have to take them with us.”

“Inmate!” a guard barked from a distance.

Wade raised his eyebrows. “I’m surprised you’d have that attitude, but okay. I--”

“IN-MATE.” The guard was closer now, impatient. “Guestbook!”

Rhonda turned, schooling her features to predatory stillness. A few other inmates had gathered behind the guard, watching. This was the guard who had been with Reyes when the DMC had recaptured her. “Calhoun,” she said flatly. “How’s Reyes?”

Calhoun had bruises around one eye, and though Rhonda couldn’t remember, she suspected she'd put those bruises there herself. He was seething, “He’s out of the ICU, and he asked me to...watch over you until he gets back.”

“Here I am,” she said simply.

“Yeees,” Calhoun drawled. “Here you are.” 

He moved, and Rhonda dove under the table. Cards fluttered in the air. Before she had a chance to roll to Wade’s side, Calhoun and another inmate snagged each of her ankles and dragged her out into the open. Wade jumped, ready to help, but three inmates grabbed him, pinned his arms back, and started punching his gut.

Rhonda clawed at the cement, breaking fingernails as they dragged her. Adrenaline flooded her veins as she scrambled to defend herself. She whirled and caught the inmate in the face with her elbows, breaking his nose and spraying blood, but Calhoun caught her arm and threw her down onto her face. She was nearly to her feet again when a heavy, steel-toed boot caught her in the belly. The breath rushed out of her and she collapsed onto her side. 

Three more inmates pulled at her arms and legs until she was immobilized. 

Calhoun jabbed his knee into her lower back, ignoring her pained grunt. “It’s been a while since we’ve had our Guestbook,” Calhoun leaned over so Rhonda could see his cruel smile, “and we’ve had a lot of newcomers who need to sign.”

Rhonda screamed. Wild, pure rage echoed through the yard.

The guard tore her right sleeve clean off her arm, revealing her lacework of badly inked Xs.

Wade roared in angry futility, even as the inmates holding him kept beating him.

Calhoun took something from his pocket, a tattoo gun cobbled together from CD player parts and office supplies. He slowly ran one hand along Rhonda’s arm, looking for a blank space. “I forgot how full your arm is,” he said. “Maybe we should tear off the rest of your clothes.”

Rhonda huffed and heaved, raging but trying to conserve her strength. “Reyes thought he was tough until a giant Russian mutant had his hands on him,” she growled through her clenched jaw. “Reyes is shit, and you’re shit. You’ll die shit.”

Unperturbed, Calhoun hooked his fingers into Rhonda’s collar and thumped her head hard against the concrete floor. Looking at the inmates who had gathered around them, he flashed his teeth in a horrible smile. He offered up the improvised tattoo gun. “Okay, who’s first?”