#their butts been bouncing around my head like a ping pong ball

[kraken-pint]

you become the noodle brain

[the-iceni-bitch]

Okay, so I just had a sinfully dirty idea for the OTP and I couldn't help but share it with you. Gonna apologize upfront for my exhibitionism kink, but hear me out. Since Ransom's friend's and their girls are all super interested in the OTP's sex life, what if they're hanging out /drinking at Ransom's house and one of the girls is like "show us some of your moves", so they just like fuck right there. If you don't want to write this, that's totally fine but I just had to share this hoe thot.

Ooooookkkkkkk....

So, I wasn’t 100% sure I was going to do this one, but I’m drunk so what the hell!

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (salad tossing, f receiving oral sex, public sex, mentions of blow jobs), technical dub con as both parties are very drunk (but consenting!), excessive alcohol consumption by adults of appropriate age, SMUT!!!! 18+ ONLY!!!!

Smutty smut guys!!!!! No minors!!!

You’d had so many Jell-O shots you were having trouble walking straight, but you were determined to win at beer pong.

Ransom and you had already dominated at flip cup at Chaz’s frat themed house warming party, and you hated to admit how good of a time you were having. You hadn’t been this drunk since college.

Logan was giving you a stupid smirk from across the table as you lined up your shot. You shoved Ransom off when he tried to drunkenly nuzzle into your hair, rolling your eyes when he whined about how mean you were being to him.

The ball bounced once and landed in the last cup on Logan’s side of the table, and you gave him a sloppy grin as he downed the contents with a grumble.

“Which one ‘f you assholes ‘s next?” You slurred, hiccuping at the end of your sentence as you steadied yourself with one hand on the ping pong table.

“No more!” Chaz groaned, rolling off the stool he was perched on. “You’re too fucking competitive.”

“Yeah, no more competitions, let’s play truth or dare!” Brittney said excitedly, clapping her hands and wobbling towards the living room.

“Leh’s get the fuck out of here, baby.” Ransom mumbled as he tried to wrap himself around you, but only succeeded in tangling his feet with yours until you both almost went down.

“I don’t think ya should drive.” You giggled, staring at your feet as you tried to walk to join the other members of your little group. “I know I shud... shudn’t.”

The two of you fell on top of each other on the couch, laughing breathlessly as Ransom tried to pull you into his lap but just flung you over it like he was going to spank you.

“Wait, tha s’not right.” He muttered before turning your body slowly until you were leaning against his chest.

Everyone in the circle was glassy eyed and unsteady as they settled in, couples snuggling together around Chaz’s coffee table as you called numbers to determine who was going first.

“Alright, Jess.” You murmured, trying to ignore Ransom rubbing his hardening cock against your ass. “Truth or dare?”

“Oooh, truth.” She said with a crooked grin.

“Ok, wha s’the longst you’ve ever given head?” You said with a wicked smirk, smacking Ransom’s hand when he tried to shove it down the front of your jeans. “Knock ‘t off, Hugh!”

“Five minutes.” Jess said at the same time Logan told you to fuck off.

“Tha’s it?!?!” You screeched, almost falling off the sofa as you laughed hysterically. “Jesus, Logan gettin’ called tha fuck out.”

“You’re such a bitch.” Logan groaned as he chugged the rest of his beer and headed to the kitchen to grab another.

“Hey! Only Hugh gets ta call me a bitch! Goddamn it Drysdale!” He was trying to shove his hands in the front of your shirt now.

“What?!?! C’mon baby, jus wanna feel ya up a little.” He whined as he drew you back against his chest. “Those fuckin’ tits fit in mah hands so good.”

A shrill yelp escaped from you when he slapped your tit through your shirt, turning and smacking his shoulder as gave you a stupid grin.

“Jesus Christ, you two.” Dylan grumbled with an eye roll as Ransom turned you around and started to mouth at your chest through your t-shirt. “Chaz, truth or dare?”

“Um, fuck, dare.” Chaz said, trying to ignore the noises the two of you were making as Ransom started sucking on your neck.

“Switch underwear with Brit.” Dylan told him, pointedly not looking at you as you tried to unwind yourself from Ransom and berated him for being such a slut.

Britney cracked up and dragged Chaz away from the group towards the bathroom as he cursed under his breath.

“How’s it feel Chazzy boy?” You teased when they came back, wrapping your hand around Ransom’s face and shoving him off you. “Everything all tucked in? Hugh!”

He’d sucked your fingers into his mouth and was swirling his tongue around them as he still tried to climb on top of you.

“Oh my god! Truth or dare you freaks.” Logan sighed, everyone now openly staring at the two of you as your resistance started to ebb away, letting Ransom run his lips over your throat.

“Dare.” He mumbled without thought, his hands moving to tuck under the waistband of your jeans.

Logan made eye contact with you and gave you a wicked grin. “Make Y/N come in 3 minutes.”

“What?!” You shrieked.

“Done!” Ransom shouted triumphantly as he flipped you over and yanked your jeans down. “Bet I can do it in two.”

You dug your fingers in the cushions as he buried his face between your cheeks and ran his tongue over the rim of your pretty hole. Every swipe of his tongue over your tightened hole sent quivers through your aching pussy, slick leaking down the insides of your thighs as you mewled into the sofa.

He ran his tongue over your slit and flicked kitten licks against your clit, groaning into your cunt when he felt you clench against his face. His lips wrapped around your pussy and he slurped up your arousal before moving back to your asshole and sucking.

“Fuck! Ransom!” You screamed when he speared his tongue past the tight ring of muscle and stretched you open.

The soft brush of his fingers against the inside of your thigh as he fucked you with his tongue made you gasp. It punched into you with vigor as his thumb moved to your clit and started to circle it softly.

You reached behind you and wound your fingers through his hair to press him further into your ass as you panted with need, his free arm wrapping around your thighs when he felt you getting close.

A sob ripped out of your chest as you came, your release squirting out of you and soaking the front of his shirt as your body tried to curl in on itself. He kept tongue fucking you through it, grinning against your ass as he felt you flutter around him.

“Time?!” He called, sitting up and beaming around the room at your shocked looking friends.

“Ninety-seven seconds!” Jess said after checking her timer.

“Fuckin’ knew it.” He purred, pulling you into his lap and brushing his lips over your throat as you sighed contentedly. “Fuck you Logan.”

——————————————————————————

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[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 28

First time reader click here

TWs/SUMMARY: Hulk interaction Hulk interaction Hulk interaction. Plot is thickening. Feelings. Operation Baby Thief! A wild Coulson appears. Lokireader besties <3 There's just a lot going on.

Bruce hulked out within minutes of my confession.

As I stood in the middle of the common room, partially hidden behind Loki and scrunching the fabric of my hoodie, I had no choice but to observe the reactions of various Avengers to the fact someone might have... Predictably, Sam, Tony and Stephen looked like kicked puppies. I trusted Loki to handle that part. Steve, Bucky and Natasha had murder on their mind and Thor, Pietro just stared at me, aghast.

I noticed the tinge of green before anybody else, perhaps, because I'd been used to automatically seek comfort from Bruce. My interactions with Hulk, however brief and few and in-between, were positive. As much as they could be with a someone's alter-ego that possessed the emotional intelligence of a twelve year old. So I could safely say that what startled me was the noise of Bruce transforming and not the Hulk himself.

The Hulk growled, zeroing in on me - I remembered of Loki, who stood frozen, and their mutual disregard. The decision was prompt - I stepped out from behind the Asgardian, waving shyly at the large green creature. He was LARGE. Like, I could comfortably sit on one of his shoulders.

"Hey, Hulk. I'm alright, don't worry big guy," I took unhurried steps towards the agitated creature. He seemed to be satisfied with my statement, giving me another once over and growling quietly in the back of his throat. An idea struck me: "Wanna get out of here? The gym has more space, we can sit and talk there."

The stares I was getting were downright incredulous. Here I was, an average human being, fearlessly making my way over to the destruction machine that was the Hulk. I knew he wouldn't hurt me - on purpose.

"No," He growled. "We find bad man. Then Hulk smash." The green creature raised, I had to admit, valid points.

"It's going to be pretty boring though. We have to sort through the security footage, then probably traffic cams, then hold Steve back from going in there in Terminator mode..." I listed off all the logical steps of the investigation until I reached the Hulk. My neck was going to get a crick in it from tilting it so I could see his face. "I'd rather..." I didn't get to finish my sentence as I was suddenly picked up. One large hand gently cradled me to Hulk's chest, akin to a kitten, the other hand landing right under my butt.

I heard a collective exhale from the team, acutely aware of the way they were eyeing me and Hulk.

"Boring," The green creature agreed. His face briefly contorted in what I perceived to be an intense thought process. "Necessary." The word had to come from Bruce; it slipped out with difficulty off the Hulk's tongue, stiff.

"Not you too, big guy," I giggled-slash-groaned, giving a playful slap to the hand wrapped around me. "Fine. Let's get this over with." I looked around in search of a spot for Hulk to park his butt somewhere. The ceiling was barely tall enough for him to comfortably stand.

I needn't have worried as he simply sat down cross-legged right where he stood, still holding me to his chest. "Now," He announced, looking expectantly at Tony.

The engineer chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "Yeah, you're right, big guy. Let's find this sonuvabitch." Tense snorts and sounds of agreement filled the room, drowning out the noise of Tony tapping on his keyboard and communicating with Friday.

I poked Hulk in one green, large finger. "Maybe I could sit on your shoulder?"

He nodded, letting me crawl all over his green, hard chest and arms to sit on the large expanse of his left shoulder. It was comfortable as far as shoulders go; inwardly, I squeed like a mad woman. I was friends with the Hulk and I was sitting on his shoulder! Lost in my fangirling, I absentmindedly began messing with his dark hair, only noticing it when satisfied rumbling started coming from his chest. The Hulk was... Purring?

"Puny Banner upset," Hulk declared shortly after the team found the man who drugged me and started tracking his movements. It wasn't someone who'd been invited to the party, which meant there was a serious security breach - it was all hands on deck kind of situation.

"Yeah, I can understand that. I'm pretty upset too, the hangover I got was terrible, I threw up in Loki's apartment," I said, frowning. "And my boys are going to mope now," I rolled my eyes.

"Banner says he will talk with them," Hulk replied, placing hand over my legs. "Hulk will help Banner."

I couldn't help it, I snorted. "Gonna smash some common sense into them?" He grinned at me, too mischievous for someone who was described to be a mindless destruction machine. "I think they're beyond that."

"I can hear you two talking shit about me and I do not appreciate it," Tony piped up suddenly, shooting us a hurt look. To be fair, his shoulders looked considerably less tense and the cloud over his face had dissipated by a little bit. Me and Hulk managed to erase at least some of the guilt away. I think. Stephen, however, still remained frowning and closed-off.

"You're stupid, Tony." Hulk answered, sounding a little bit smug. I gaped at the exchange together with Natasha and Steve. It seemed like Hulk's sense of... Humor was a novelty.

"Hey, don't pick on my dumbass white boys," I chastised the green... Man, side-eyeing him. "Only I can pick on them. If someone else does it, I'mma throw hands if I have to."

"Puny," Hulk replied petulantly, poking me with a finger, making me sway in my spot. I rolled my eyes fondly, settling in to mess with his hair again for the sake of having something to do with my hands. The brief exchange helped to get my overactive brain off the case but the tranquility didn't last very long.

Natasha and Bucky left to interrogate the guards responsible for the security breach, Loki shooting me an apologetic look and following the two. I smiled back, knowing the Asgardian wasn't fully comfortable being around the Hulk due to his previous experiences with the big guy.

"Wait, hold on. That guy. I know that guy." As an array of faces appeared on the large screen, a familiar pair of mismatched eyes stared at me from it. Hulk tensed under me and the team turned towards me expectantly as I shrunk slightly under their combined gaze. "The one with anisocoria - with the weird eyes. He works at a coffee shop near my school, actually he only started working recently, few months ago. He tried to flirt with me but Peter said he felt weird about the guy so I stopped going to that café." I explained the situation as eloquently as I could, seeing Clint's eyes widen at my story.

"Are you sure?" Stephen Strange raised an eyebrow. "Because that man is a mercenary that we have been looking for months."

I felt my heart skip a beat. "A what now?" My ears were ringing. Hulk growled quietly under me, evidently sensing my distress.

"A hired man," Clint typed on his phone rapidly. "Mostly sells not-so-harmless trinkets on the black market. Hydra, AIM, you name it. Anything for the highest bidder." Clint muttered. "I'm calling Peter, maybe he can tell us something more. This is an Avengers level threat." The Hawk's jaw was firm and his face was hard.

"Already on it," Tony looked shaken. I understood him - someone like that had invaded his tower, his home. Hell, I myself felt like someone had spit right in my soul. It was my home, too, to some extent.

"Let me down please, Tony needs a hug," I whispered to the Hulk, who begrudgingly did as I requested. I padded over to Tony, wrapping myself around him, burying my face in the crook of his neck. He always was my comfort; expensive cologne and motor oil filled my senses as my arms clutched at his chest from behind. I didn't expect reprocitation - Tony wasn't the one for emotional vulnerability.

"He could have gotten you," He whispered, almost inaudibly, fingers shaking where they typed rapid-fire commands.

"Bold of you to assume I would have gone down without a fight," I answered as calmly as I could. "He is either dumb, or reckless or has nothing to lose. Planning a coup in the middle of your tower..."

"Or he's showing us that he can just do that," Clint supplied unhelpfully. "The guard who let him in just has been found dead and his family is missing. Natasha texted, she's calling in SHIELD. This is now Operation Baby Thief."

I couldn't help the snort that escaped my lips. "Baby Thief, really?"

"Nobody's stealing Princess," Tony barked, finally turning his head and pressing a sloppy kiss to my cheek. "Not if I have to do anything with it."

"I will make sure the pathetic mortal scum never walks," Thor finally piped up, voice low. In the distance, the harsh noise of thunder and pouring rain echoed through the city.

I frowned but withdrew from Tony, finally feeling well enough to do something. My hands itched to help and as appealing as snuggling with Hulk appeared, my brain had gone straight into overdrive. "Should we take a blood sample to find out what he dosed me with? It's not Roofies, and the hangover is too shitty for it to be anything like Ecstasy." I mused out loud, pacing in the small space between the Hulk and the nearest wall.

"That is a sensible idea," Doctor Strange piped up, giving me an appreciative look. "We'll wait for Romanoff," One angry look at his own scarred, shaking hands, Stephen went back to the book he was reading. He needed a hug, too, I decided.

"Puny Banner will do it," Hulk suddenly announced, reaching out for me.

I obliged, giving the green giant a hug. "Maybe we can go play in Central Park once it's warmer, whatcha think?" I looked up at him, brain just so full of different things. Ideas bounced off one another like ping pong balls.

The Hulk grinned and... Well, I didn't see the transformation, my eyes shut themselves as soon as I felt the flesh under my palms begin to shrink and expand. It wasn't that I was afraid, rather, the feeling was so bizarre that my racing brain had to automatically shut down in fears of being overstimulated.

"Hi," Bruce supplied meekly, an adorable blush staining his cheeks. I didn't resist the urge to kiss and hold him close, and we stood there with him holding up his pants with one hand and clutching my hoodie with the other until Tony cleared his throat.

"You good, Brucie-bear?" The engineer gave a distracted smile towards us, not taking his eyes off the keyboard.

"Yes, Tones," The scientist replied easily, adding with a frown: "I'm glad me and Hulk finally agree on something." With that, he departed in the search of normal pants and the tools needed to acquire my blood sample.

I gave it without much fuss, waving to Bucky, Natasha and Loki that had returned with a middle-aged, balding man in tow. The shared look of amusement between Steve and Bucky and the man's starry-eyed look towards the Captain let me deduce it was one Agent Coulson, the very same man Tony couldn't stop telling stories about, the one with the Captain America trading cards.

So, mayhaps, me taking place in Stephen's lap while Bruce filled up three whole vials full of my blood wasn't exactly the smartest way to go about it. Tony found it amusing, Steve was shaking his head in fond annoyance and Stephen himself struggled to maintain his indifference, yet, the blush betrayed him.

"Agent, what brings you to our humble abode?" Tony snorted, seeing the man raise an eyebrow at the display of affection.

"Operation Baby Thief," Coulson replied with a sigh. "I see the Baby is secure. Keep it that way." Oh, the man was cheeky. I liked him already.

"The Baby has a Tony, a Sorcerer Supreme and a Hulk," I retorted haughtily. "And a functional brain. Fuck that guy."

"Indeed," Coulson snorted. "Tell me, what do you know about the Hamptons incident?"

I blanched, immediately tensing. Bruce withdrew the needle and pressed a bandage over the wound, running gentle fingers over my arm. Everybody must've noticed my surprise, turning to me with their faces full of expectation. Stephen's touch was calming, slightly trembling at the nape of my neck.

"Not much, to be honest. I was about thirteen when it happened and my mother tried to hide it from me," I chewed on my lip, looking away. "What I managed to find out is that there was a robbery that resulted in two deaths, my father being one of the suspects because he was high as hell on coke and he was found sleeping in the same room as the open gun safe," I recalled the memories of mother angrily screaming at dad, calling her law firm colleagues late at night. "I don't need a law degree to know the evidence was flimsy. Dad got a drug charge, his buddies got the same and both the killer and the gun were never found." I exhaled loudly, tapping my foot on the floor, supressing the need to pace.

Coulson nodded, opening a thin manila folder and producing an image of a small, wooden box with carvings that looked like runes on it. "Have you seen this object?"

I felt my blood run cold, my vision swam. "Yes," I swallowed dryly. "That's my end-of-the-world box. I buried it in my grandparents' backyard two years ago."

"End of the world?" Coulson asked, alarmed. "Did you open it?"

"No," I shook my head negative. "I found it in my room at one point and every time I looked at it, it felt... Wrong. Like it was a glitch in a computer game. I couldn't sleep, so I stuck it in my closet and that gave me terrible nightmares and sleep paralysis. I took it with me when I went to visit Gramps and buried it three feet deep under the cherry tree." My hands were shaking once again; I had forgotten about the box but my body remembered the primal, untameable terror that I experienced in it's proximity. At fourteen years old, I just thought I had an overactive imagination or something, too many horror movies, hormonal storms.

"That is a magical artifact," Stephen's voice was quiet and concerned. "A very dangerous, destructive at that. How long were you in it's presence?"

"About nine months, give or take."

"And you didn't open it once, not even a little bit?" Tony had caught on the trend, almost a hysterical edge to his voice.

"No, and I think I know why," I looked to the side. "I saw Wanda on the TV, and, like, magic was confirmed to be real, so I guess I was sure whatever is in there, it wasn't good. During that time, my parents told me I was sleepwalking but I can't remember any of it. I might have wanted to get that box to someone of your... Specialty," I briefly messed with the sleeve of Stephen's shirt, exhaling loudly when his hand grasped mine and held it with care. "I think that box messed with my head... Because I swear that I had no recollection of it until you brought it up," I realized suddenly, my eyes shooting up in blind panic. What else have I forgotten?!

"That is astonishing," Loki's baritone exclaimed. "Nine months is a long time to resist the pull of such a strong artifact." My best friend stated with a great deal of respect.

People in the room started talking all at once. Stephen and Tony declared I needed to get checked out by a professional - Tony meaning s doctor and Stephen meaning a healer of the magical kind; Bruce scooted over and pulled my frozen body in a solid hug; Steve and Bucky planned out to get the box from my grandparents' house, debating whether to take Loki or Thor with them; the SHIELD part of the team discussing the intel and further plans to catch the rogue mercenary.

The door opened quietly.

"Hi everybody, hello Mr. Stark," Peter was disheveled, his ratty backpack in one hand and an enormous sandwich in another. "Got here as fast as I could. What's up?"

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie @mikariell95

[lefaystrent]

Kid!Logan au pt.4

Fandom: Thomas Sanders, Sanders Sides

Pairings: platonic LAMP

Summary: Logan would say that he signed up for a movie night, not this, but he didn’t really sign up at all, now did he?

Masterlist Link

They go to Roman’s house.

Logan hates it.

“No need to look so gloomy, Shortstop.” Roman grins as he hops out of the car.

Logan sulks in the backseat, reluctant to exit. The two-story house is big and nice and has a manicured lawn with the most elegant looking plastic flamingo he has ever seen positioned by the mailbox and Logan hates it.

“Could we not have gone to Patton or Virgil’s house for this gathering? Were those not options?”

Roman’s dramatics are difficult enough to bear when at school. In his own home though?

“My place is small,” Virgil explains, still sitting in the backseat with him. Patton has already gotten out so it’s just them two. “As for Patton, he’s got a big family. It’s always been easiest to hang out at Roman’s.”

Logan turns towards him. From the way he talks, the three of them have been coming over to Roman’s for a long time. He wants to ask about it, understand how people can remain so close for so long, and distantly he wonders if their bond will waver once they’re out of high school, like so many friendships do.

“Why are you still in the car?” Logan asks. “Do you not want to go inside?”

Virgil looks out the windows, eyes lingering towards the front door the other two have disappeared through. “I know we kinda pushed this on you, and I’m sorry.”

An apology.

That isn’t what he expects, nor is he quite comfortable with the subdued air around Virgil. Logan shakes his head, voice dripping with disdain, “If anything, I am more than happy to blame this entirely on Roman.”

Virgil stifles a laugh with his hand. “Ya know, I can talk to him. Make him take you home if you really don’t want to stay. He’s not really an asshole, just an extrovert.”

“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.” Logan opens the car door, ready to get out. “I might as well stay and let you all get this ‘hanging out’ with me out of your systems. You’ll soon find I’m not the most ‘fun’ person to be around.”

Virgil smirks. “Don’t hold your breath.”

They go inside and the interior is just as gorgeous as the outside. Afternoon sunlight streams in through gossamer curtains, shining bright across the wood floor. The rooms are washed in soothing creams accented by rose gold light fixtures. Potted plants litter the place, the touches of green standing out. In the dining room they pass, Logan spies a twinkling chandelier.

“What do Roman’s parents do?” Logan asks conversationally.

“Eh, his mom’s a realtor and his dad is . . . something.”

“Something?”

“I forget how to pronounce it but it’s like in engineering or something. He takes contracts out of state a lot. Why do you ask?”

Logan looks around them pointedly. “Well they certainly don’t appear to be lower class.” He looks up at Virgil to find his gaze boring into him. “What?”

Virgil shakes himself. “Nothing, just . . . Most kids don’t really make those kinds of observations.”

Logan frowns. “I am not most kids. I am only me, and that’s all I know how to be.”

“. . . is that why you don’t try to pretend?”

“Pretend what?”

From across the house, they hear Roman shout, “Are you guys coming or what? I can hear you breathing in there.”

“No you can’t, shut up!” Virgil rolls his eyes. He knocks lightly at Logan’s shoulder. “C’mon, before Princey throws a hissy fit.”

Logan is led down a hall to the other end of the house where a den opens up. Two of the walls are made up entirely of windows, letting in more than enough natural light. In the middle of the room there’s a green table with a short net splitting the middle. Roman has a couple of paddles in his hands, waving them around.

“Today is the day you will know utter defeat, Shea!” Roman declares, aiming one of the paddles at Virgil.

Virgil tilts back his head and lets out a deep, evil chuckle. “In your dreams, Prince.” He tosses his bag onto a nearby chair and takes position at the other end of the table.

“Why is there a ping pong table here?” Logan asks in bewilderment, coming to stand next to Patton.

“To play ping pong,” Patton answers wisely.

Logan face palms. “No, I meant that I was under the impression that we were to have a movie night?”

“We have a loose definition for movie nights.” Virgil shrugs. He’s picked out a paddle for himself and spins the handle in his hand.

“We can still watch something later if you want,” Patton offers. “Virge and Ro usually play a few rounds first though.”

“With Patton as our lovely score keeper!” Roman bellows in an announcer voice.

“I’ve got a whistle,” Patton shows Logan gleefully, as if that makes it official.

“That is indeed a whistle,” is all Logan can think to say.

“Enough chit-chat,” Roman interrupts impatiently and—mother of god, he’s posing at Virgil to intimate him or something. “The gauntlet has been thrown down! You must answer its call.”

“That eager to lose?” Virgil taunts.

“The only one who will be losing today is you, Surly Temple.”

They’re standing at either end of the table now, but Roman is still armed with two paddles.

“Isn’t that against the rules?” Logan points out. “It’ll give him an unfair advantage.”

Virgil doesn’t look bothered in the slightest. “Not that it matters.”

Patton leans down to whisper to Logan, “Roman’s never won a single match.”

“Is he that bad?”

“No, Virgil’s just that good.”

Now Logan’s eager to watch.

Virgil serves first. Roman smacks the ball lightning quick, his eyes sharp and more calculated than Logan is used to seeing. For as swift as Roman’s strikes are, Virgil’s are barely able to be followed. Logan theorizes that his movements are linked to muscle memory and sheer instinct. There’s a way that Virgil moves with serpentine fluidity, yet his strikes exude all the hunting prowess of a big cat.

While Virgil is fast on the attack, Roman is left playing goal keeper.

“That’s six to two!” Patton announces after Virgil scores yet again.

“I’ve never been interested in sports,” Logan mentions, eyes drinking in the frustrated snarl on Roman’s face. “But this is enthralling.”

“Oh, so you think you can do better?” Roman growls at Logan. “Just you wait. I’m still in this!”

“I’m rootin’ for ya, Roman!” Patton cheers. “You got this!”

“Aren’t you supposed to stay neutral?” Logan asks.

“Eh, well, he needs all the help he can get.”

“Patton! I can hear you!”

“Whoops! Sorry, kiddo!”

Logan shakes his head. In truth, he’s older than these kids, and these silly antics are why he didn’t bother pursuing social connections outside of school. They’re loud and childish, and he has no need of them. That’s what he told himself going into this.

That’s what he tries to tell himself now.

Wonder of wonders, he’s fighting down the urge to smile.

By the time Virgil scores his ninth point, he’s grinning like a shark. In school, he isn’t one to talk much. Logan had easily picked up on his introverted nature and his nervous tendencies like hiding in the hood of his jacket or picking at his nails or clothing.

Here, paddle in hand and Roman struggling to catch up, he’s in his element. This is Virgil outside of school, walls down.

“He’s a real powerhouse, isn’t he,” Patton laughs softly. He must have noticed Logan’s staring.

“I haven’t seen him so energized before,” Logan hums in agreement.

“You should get him talking about his favorite bands or shows or games,” Patton says with a fond smile. “He can talk for hours about Kingdom Hearts or Evanescence. Oh! And spiders. He really loves spiders, even if they are abominations who roam the Earth spreading nothing but misery and despair and should all be annihilated by way of fire.”

“Patton . . . are you okay?”

“I’ve seen things.”

“Patton, serve’s up,” Roman calls for his attention.

He snaps out of the haunted stare he’d been giving Logan. “Right! Go ahead!”

The score becomes ten to six. Virgil needs one more point to win, according to the rules. They’re both panting lightly after their exertions.

“It’s not too late to forfeit,” Roman goads him.

Virgil’s eyes gleam in amusement. “Aw, it’s cute that you still think you have a chance.”

He tosses the ball into the air and smacks it down with unrelenting force. Roman, still in his banter mode, is unprepared and doesn’t have time to raise his paddles. The ball goes right for his face and he falls flat on his butt.

“Game, set, and match.” Virgil drops the paddle like a mic.

Everyone startles when Roman leaps to his feet, the ping pong ball clenched between his teeth.

“A-hah!” Roman grunts victoriously.

“What the fuck, dude,” Virgil says, one eye squinted and the other wide.

“Did you catch that with your mouth?” Patton asks in awe.

Roman stands tall, fists on hips, bellows of laughter seeping around the ping pong.

“Even I must admit that’s impressive,” Logan acknowledges. “But you do realize that you still lost for failing to keep the ball in play?”

His pride-struck expression falls. Roman goes to argue, but in his rush he accidentally chokes on the ball.

“Spit it out, you moron!” Virgil practically vaults over the table, he’s there so fast beating on Roman’s back. Roman’s hands clutch desperately at his throat, pupils blown wide in fear. Patton’s there in an instant but isn’t sure what to do.

Logan does the only logical thing and punches Roman in the gut.

The little white ball dislodges and pops out of his mouth. It soars through the air to bounce sadly away. Roman coughs repeatedly, face red and eyes watering as Virgil and Patton hold him up.

“Are you okay? Can you breathe okay?” Patton asks frantically. He pats at Roman’s back to help him along. Roman nods through his coughing.

Virgil runs his hands through his hair and blows out a heavy gust of air. “Holy shit, I cannot believe that just happened.”

“Now what have we learned today, kiddos?” Patton asks sternly.

“Just punch away all of your problems,” Virgil answers.

Patton is not amused and Virgil giggles, borderline hysterical.

Roman gets his breathing under control. He stands up straighter, wiping the spittle away from his mouth. He looks at Logan in a whole new light.

“You saved my life,” Roman rasps.

“I didn’t mean to,” Logan automatically responds. His fist is still raised and slightly shaking. “I know the Heimlich maneuver would have been a better method . . . but I just—my body acted without thinking. I apologize, Roman—”

Without warning, Roman sweeps him up in a hug. Logan is very, very not okay with this.

“Awww,” Patton cooes.

“Roman, please, my feet are meant to be on the floor.”

“You brought me back from the brink of death,” Roman sniffles, far too emotional for Logan’s tastes.

Logan stops squirming and accepts his fate (Roman’s biceps have to be made with steel). “Is this that bonding thing I’ve heard about?”

“Shhh, just accept it.”

“It burns.”

“That’s the bond setting in.”

“I think I’m allergic.”

“Maybe we should move on to something a little less exciting?” Patton suggests. “We’re having a little too much of a ball in here.”

“I’m never playing ping pong again,” Virgil swears.

“Movies then?”

“Yes please.”

A/N: Alternate scene, because I almost had Patton be the one to punch Roman in the stomach.

Patton’s there in an instant, fist pummeling into Roman’s mid-section. He heaves up the ball and nearly his lunch.

Patton stands proud and blows off imaginary dust from his fist. “Works every time.”

“Patton,” Roman gets out between wheezes and coughs. “You beautiful man . . . I hate you.”

Patton just pats Roman on the head.

“I’m sorry, I think I need to just--” Virgil cuts himself off by lying down on the ground to stare up at the ceiling. Logan is half-inclined to join him.

Patton lets out a laugh. “Nothing like a near-death experience to get the ole blood pumper going, am I right?”

Both Roman and Virgil flip him the bird.

“You’re doing the ‘I love you’ hand sign wrong, kiddos. It’s three fingers, not one.”

Logan crouches down beside Virgil. “Do you think you could teach me how to play ping pong once you’re emotionally stable?”

Logan wants to learn.

For scientific reasons of course.

Not because he wants to beat Roman into the ground or anything.

General Tag List:  @spectralheartt @a-pastel-pan @notalwaysthevillian @rose-gold-roman @ijustrealizedhowdumbmynamewas @katie-the-noble-fangirl @yourroyalydramaticanxiousness @aroundofapplesauce @merlybird500 @beach-fan @jemthebookworm @whats-going-on-kiddos @randomsandersides @gamerfreddie @unring-this-bell @that-royal-ravenclaw @analogicallythinking @lilygold23 @punsterterry @naw2702 @levy-the-b00kw0rm @iolanomsgranola @tacohippy56900 @lottavic @camariechris

Kid Logan au list:  @under-the-blue-moonlight @broadwaytheanimatedseries @just-fic-me-up @joyful-milkshake-observation @absolutesandersidestrash @midnightmagi @justcallmepancake @justanotherpurplebutterfly @aamikan @nerd-in-space @thestrangedino @deathshadowrules @entitydark @vintage-squid @max-is-tired @theitalianalchemist @deceitfullyanxiousprince @thesynysterunknown @skullfire2004 @shai-uwu @teacupfulofstarshine @the5thcoy

[nneefa]

fic: the way you do the things you do

fandom: xiaolin showdown

characters: kimiko/raimundo, omi, clay

summary: there was something unsettling about the bruise on raimundo's face, considering it was meant for her.

notes: i struggled really hard with this, though i had a lot of fun with it. deep, introspective writing is not my forte. regardless, i hope y'all enjoy this. dedicated to @writing-saved-my-life

♡

It was funny how things could still manage to be so lively around the temple, considering what had just transpired not even 24 hours ago.

Living and fighting through two, insanely alternate timelines was certainly one thing, but to turn around and battle against the ‘Unwelcomed Mob of Evil’ - as Dojo had so eloquently phrased it - a second time not even ten minutes after coming out of them was just too much, even for Wudai Warriors. Master Fung, thankfully, had the right mind to give them the rest of the day off. He even dismissed them from their chores, of course, putting it off for the following day. According to him, they’d earned it on account of everything they’d been through. It also helped that they’d sustained more injuries on top of what they already had, but none of them dared complain.

Instead, they fell right back into the swing of things. That was, everyone except for Kimiko.

From her position at the infirmary sink, Kimiko watched Omi flit about Raimundo’s cot with the energy of a four-year-old with a sugar rush. Despite his injuries - a knot the size of a ping pong ball on his head, a split bottom lip, and several scrapes and bruises peppered along his knuckles and arms - Omi still found a way to be energetic.

It almost got on her nerves how easily he seemed to bounce back from all of the madness, especially when she couldn’t find it in herself to do the same, but Kimiko decided not to let it bother her too much. She’d almost forgotten what it looked like to see Omi act like an obnoxious little brother to Raimundo, considering his year-long stint spent antagonizing the older boy and all. Thankfully, Raimundo never took the bait, even when Omi seemed overbearingly harsh, and if he’d felt some type of way about it, he hardly let it show. Knowing him, he probably endured it without a second thought towards the consequences. For the sake of reestablishing trust with his friend. For Omi’s sake.

That was something Kimiko could honestly say got on her nerves: not Raimundo and Omi’s endless back-and-forth banter or the time it took to repair their brotherly relationship, but Raimundo’s ability to dive in head first, regardless of the consequences. To be unconditionally kind to and for others, with no concern for himself, was something Kimiko could not, for the life of her, understand.

Like their tag team showdown against the Forces of Evil.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t happy with their victory or anything. She’d been just as ecstatic as the rest of the team when Omi rescued Dojo, even finding a way to jump for joy despite the sharp pain in her back. But, now that the high was over and in seeing Raimundo’s condition - the bruise under his eye, his fractured hand, the torn flesh on his arm and back, the seared skin on his chest - Kimiko was finding it increasingly difficult to be grateful about anything. A part of her was moved, touched even, that he’d jumped in on her behalf; however, another part of her was angry with him, furious. Especially when it should’ve been her.

“Oh, pleeease, Raimundo, won’t you tell me what it feels like to be Shoku Warrior?” Omi droned for what ought to be the billionth time in the last hour, snapping Kimiko from her train of thought. “I want to be mooost prepared for when I make my transition from Wudai Warrior!”

Raimundo watched him bounce up and down in front of his bed with mild amusement. “How should I know when it hasn’t even been a day yet?”

But it was as if what he said went in one ear and out the other as Omi continued his rant, holding on to the edge of Raimundo’s bed while he bounced on his toes. "Does power surge from your very body? Can you manipulate the wind, at ease, without the use of your Elemental Shen Gong Wu? Can you break the sound barrier? Can you-

“Omi, slow down!” Raimundo cut him off with a shout.

“Yeah, partner. Breathe,” Clay added, rubbing antiseptic into the grooves of his knuckles. He’d scratched his hand trying to fend off Katnappe, Cyclops and the Chameleon Bot, the first of whom he went out of his way not to harm.

Omi did as he was told and took a deep breath. Only to continue rambling again. Raimundo quickly clamped his good hand over Omi’s mouth and answered him with a grin before he could start. “Honestly, minus the robes, it still feels like I’m a Wudai Warrior, but I’m sure I’ll get used to it. No, yes, and maybe…, I don’t know yet. Now, are you done?”

Omi nodded his head vigorously and pulled Raimundo’s hand from his mouth. “Ooooh,” he chirped excitedly, clamping his hands over his cheeks, careful to avoid the bump on his head. “I cannot wait for my chance to become a Shoku Warrior! I’ll be all this and a box of cookies.”

“Uh, that’s ‘all that and a bag of chips,’ Omi,” Kimiko finally said, maneuvering away from the sink and towards Raimundo’s bed where the shorter boy stood to hand him an ice cap. “And no offense, but I think you should focus a little less on being a Shoku Warrior and more on your injuries.”

“Yeah,” Raimundo agreed with a snicker. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you were sprouting a second head.”

“Well, at least I am not bound to my mattress,” Omi jeered with a flush of his cheeks, hiding his knot beneath his ice pack.

“That’s ‘bedbound,’ knucklehead,” Raimundo guffawed, unable to contain himself anymore, causing Omi to go from pink to red.

Before Clay could stop himself, he burst into laughter too. “Now, Rai,” he managed to say between gasps of air, “that was a low blow. Even for you.”

Kimiko tried and failed to hide her own laughter with a strain of her cheeks, knowing that Omi didn’t enjoy being the butt of anyone’s jokes, especially when it came to his head. “Yeah, Raimundo,” she said, coughing in a feeble attempt to mask her giggles. “That wasn’t very nice.”

“Sorry, Omi,” Raimundo immediately apologized, still laughing, though not quite as hard. “I couldn’t resist. I was holding that one in for a minute. No hard feelings, right?”

“None at all, my friend,” Omi huffed, sourly pulling his ice cap away from his head to reveal his bump. The action only made Raimundo erupt into laughter again. Omi looked to Clay with a sharp turn of his head, frowning as he pointedly ignored their newly elected leader. “Come, Clay. I believe it is time for supper.”

“Hoowee! Ain’t that the truth!” the cowboy yipped, slipping off his medical bed to stretch and rub his belly. “I dunno ‘bout y’all, but all this time travelin’ business then done worked up a fella’s appetite. I could eat a horse, I’m so hungry.”

“Yeah, dude that’s gross, but hey, while you’re at it, grab me a plate too,” Raimundo piped in with a wide smile, his amusement finally dying down. “After a long day of kicking evil’s butt, I could use a bite to eat.”

Omi paused just before exiting the infirmary, his hand posted on the threshold of the door, and turned to grace Raimundo with a smirk, a mischievous gleam in his little, brown eyes. “Perhaps, my second head and I will think it over. While we eat.”

Raimundo’s mouth fell open in astonishment. Clay’s hand flew to his mouth as if he’d just heard someone utter a swear word, mirth clear in his blue eye, and he looked, back and forth, between Raimundo’s crestfallen expression and Omi, who’d disappeared down the hall with a smile.

“But- but I’m your leader!” the Shoku Warrior whined.

“In name only!” Omi yelled down the hall playfully.

Raimundo blew out a puff of air, leaning back on his cot with a mock frown. “Ay, you think you know a guy.”

“Sorry, Rai,” Clay chuckled, his apology not even the least bit sincere, though all in good humor. “You got no one to blame but yourself for that one. You comin’, Kimiko?”

Kimiko, who’d been staring at Raimundo’s bandages since the boys’ little exchange, looked up to see Clay watching her. Although his smile appeared relax, even she could see the concern laced in his eye. She bit the inside of her cheek before a sigh could escape her lips, a tinge annoyed at having been caught moping, and graced him with a smile of her own. She wouldn’t put it past Raimundo if he’d noticed her mood either.

“Nah, you go on ahead,” Kimiko told him with a nonchalant wave of her hand. “I’ll join you and Omi in a sec. Just need to tidy up a bit.”

Clay looked from Kimiko to Raimundo for a split second, the barest hint of a smile on his face, before tilting his hat down at them. Kimiko didn’t bother trying to interpret what that meant, as she was sure it’d only make her angry. “Okie dokie. I’ll leave you kind folks to it, then,” he said cryptically and, without another word, left the infirmary.

Raimundo barely allowed a second to pass before he spoke up, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “Alright, girl, out with it.”

Kimiko bristled at his demand, her frown immediate as she turned from where Clay had stood to face Raimundo, who looked nothing short of confused, if not concerned. The urge to ball her fists was fierce, but she held herself back, not wanting to risk reopening the wound on her palm.

“Excuse me?”

Raimundo rolled his eyes, wincing as he sat upright in his bed. “Come on, Kimiko,” he urged, his face softening. “You look worse than Jack after he loses a showdown. You don’t think I noticed the way you’ve been looking at me?”

Heat rose to her cheeks before she could stop herself. Angrily, she asked, “And just what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t play dumb, girl. You know exactly what I mean,” Raimundo responded exasperately, despite his own blush. “You’ve been looking at me like I died or something. What’s the deal?”

“It’s just that…, well,” Kimiko stumbled, fighting to find the right words to say. She had no intention of beating around the bush with this conversation, but she was finding it very difficult to verbalize her feelings: anger, guilt, worry, gratitude. She’d never felt so many mixed emotions at one time before. In the end, she deflated, gesturing weakly at his condition with a twist of her hand, and softly said, “Look at yourself, Rai.”

He relaxed a little, and gave himself a once over before looking back at Kimiko, his smile as easygoing as ever. “It’s just injuries,” he replied with a shrug, rubbing his wrapped hand. “No big deal. S’not like I haven’t had worse, y’know. Is that why you’re upset?”

Kimiko flared up again, exhaling deeply when she slammed her hands on the guardrail of his bed, startling him. She was pretty sure she just reopened her wound, as her hand throbbed like crazy, but she couldn’t bring herself to care at that moment. “Don’t tell me it’s not a ‘big deal!’ How can you smile like that when you’re stuck in a hospital bed?”

“Whoa, Kim, easy,” he said good-naturedly, holding up his hands in a placating manner. “I just smile. You should try it sometime.”

“This isn’t funny, Raimundo,” Kimiko snapped, glaring at him. His easygoing nonchalance was really starting to grate her nerves. “I’m being serious.”

“I never said it was,” he countered with a glare of his own, though his wasn’t quite as fierce as hers. “So what if I got a few bumps and bruises? At least we won. You’re acting like that’s a bad thing.”

“It is a bad thing when you almost die doing it!” she blurted, wincing when she finally pulled her hand away from his bed rail. It was bleeding. As if on autopilot, Raimundo reached towards her, green eyes filled with concern, and Kimiko jerked back, clutching her hand to her chest like a lifeline. “Don’t, Rai! Just... don't, okay?! I didn’t ask for your help!”

Raimundo blinked at her, wide-eyed, hand frozen in midair. He watched her carefully with a furrowed brow, eventually letting his hand drop in his lap, but he didn’t say anything. Kimiko took it as a sign to continue.

“I- I could’ve taken them myself. I could’ve taken all four of them, if I wanted,” she repeated matter-of-factly. Her eyes burned, but whether it was from anger or tears, she didn’t know; however, she decided she didn’t care. All she knew was that if she didn’t get the words out now, she never would. “But then you had to go and play hero, and now look at you. You got hurt because of me. Did you do it because you took pity on me? Huh, is that it? Or was it because I’m a girl?”

“Where do you even get this stuff from?” Raimundo sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Earth to Kimiko. Did it ever occur to you that I didn’t want to see you get hurt? Hannibal and his goons crowded you. I wasn’t gonna sit there and watch it happen, not without doing something about it. So, I jumped in.”

Kimiko opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off, the look in his eye firm, but gentle. Her heart beat just a little bit faster than normal, but she decided to ignore it.

“And I would’ve done the same thing, no matter who it was, whether it was you, Clay, or Omi. You guys are my friends.” He paused to flash her a toothy grin. “And I don’t regret it either. That’s just the kinda person I am, Kim.”

Raimundo’s smile was so infectious that Kimiko found herself returning it. She took a deep breath, the guilt she’d been feeling since earlier easing away like a dying flame. “You do know there’s a difference between being kind and reckless, right, Raimundo? One of these days, you’re going to get yourself killed over it.”

“I really wish you wouldn’t say things like that,” Raimundo protested in a lighthearted tone. “Master Fung said the same thing. Sooo, what?" he asked after a beat, offering her a smile. "We cool?”

Kimiko wanted so much to punch his arm, to elbow him or something, but knew it wouldn’t be appropriate, considering he was injured. So, she did the next best thing.

She hesitated at first, but she sat on the edge of his bed and reached out to him, ignoring the strange, fluttering sensation in her stomach, and wrapped her arms around him, careful to avoid his injured back. She felt Raimundo go ramrod straight beneath her, but he relaxed almost instantly, returning her hug with a squeeze of his own.

“Yeah, we’re cool,” she answered, but then she pulled back to fix him with a stern look, her hands resting on his shoulders. “But don’t you ever do anything like that again.” She jammed a finger against his collar bone with every word to emphasize her point.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Raimundo said with a grin.

Kimiko knew that it was hot air. He’d do it, without hesitance, every single time. That was just the kind of person he was, no matter how much he tried to hide it. It was his finest quality, after all.

She nodded her head, quickly sliding off his bed before things could get anymore awkward. There was something about the look in his eye that made her feel weird. “Good. ’Cause next time, I’ll kick your butt myself if you do.”

Raimundo made a noise at that. “Whatever. Just go take care of your hand already.”

“Don’t push it, Rai,” Kimiko threatened him as she made her way to the medical supply cabinet for the first aid kit. “Oh, and Raimundo?”

“Yeah, Kim?”

She faced him fully, med kit clenched tight in her hands. She seemed to look everywhere but at him, hiding behind the kit before she took a deep breath, cheeks dusted a light pink. “Thank you,” she said sincerely. “Y’know, for jumping in and all.” She grit her teeth, embarrassed, before looking him square in the eye. “It might not mean that much to you, but what you did, well, it really means a lot. So, thanks.”

With that, she hurriedly left the infirmary for the dining hall. Had she stayed just a little bit longer, she'd have seen Raimundo bury his face in his knees, face gone red.

[bangtanstanst]

Valentine’s | 3

part one • part two • part three • part four • part five

You feel like your friends are expecting too much from this party. But, then again, neither do you expect somehow being swept off to Taehyung’s bedroom.

pairing: taehyung x reader

genre: college!au, fluff, a bit of angst mayhaps?

warnings: Tension™

word count: 4.1k

a/n: it’s here! It’s finally here! I’ve procrastinated on this for long enough now (woops), I really hope you’re excited for the continuation of this series and that it lives up to your expectations! I’m excited to share it with you and hear what you think :D

I’m tagging @nambewb and @namiiy to let them know it’s here, just let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part too♥

masterlist

“I still can’t believe this is happening,” says May on Friday night, standing in the kitchen of the frat house as you pour yourself drinks. A heavy bass penetrates the walls and you hear people cheering, shouting at someone to chug something, though you’ve already seen it happen twice since coming in, so the three of you simply ignore it.

April lets out a sigh and shakes her head, smiling at you as you pour some vodka into your red solo cup. “You are so going to get some tonight.”

You narrow your eyes at her. “That’s not really in the plan, you know,” you say, quirking an eyebrow as you raise the cup to your lips and take a sip. Of course, your words go ignored by both of your friends – they’ve been giddy about this party for the past three days now and nothing you’ve said or done seems to have changed that in any way.

“Is that why you wore that camisole?” April shoots back, an eyebrow raised.

You glance down at your torso, though you know damn well what you’re wearing. You pull on the black camisole, which is partially hidden underneath the ‘snazzy’ jacket May has made you wear. “I happen to like this one.”

She narrows her eyes at you. “There’s a reason why I tried to throw it in a fire,” she says pointedly. “And the reason is that it sucks.”

“Who even cares?” May interjects, looking up at you as she snatches a beer off the counter. “All the more reason for him to rip it off her,” she continues with a grin, raising the bottle in a toast.

Rather than continuing your futile protest, you burst out in bitter laughter, burying your face in your free hand and shaking your head. “I hate you all so much.”

April ignores your words, sighing dreamily. “I just can’t believe this is the day you finally move the fuck on from he-who-must-not-be-named,” she says, swishing her drink around in her bright red cup. “365 days exactly. I mean, I’m not saying it shouldn’t have happened a lot sooner, but it’s amazingly poetic.”

“It’s not 365 days exactly,” you weakly shoot back, at which April just rolls her eyes.

“I’m counting from the date you found the coward’s note, not when he wrote the damn thing.”

You shrug, fumbling with the label on the bottle of vodka in front of you, trying not to think back to the apologetic but ruthless words you’d read on the paper. Typed in the standard Calibri font, printed and hurriedly folded, all crinkled from being stashed away at the bottom of your backpack for three days. It was almost like being dumped via text, only a hundred times worse.

You scowl at the memory. “I don’t even like poetry,” you mumble, taking a larger gulp from your drink, face contorting as the alcohol burns your throat on its way down. You grab a bottle of coke and pour more in your cup, hoping to water the vodka down.

April flicks the back of your hand, leaning against the counter. “Always so eloquent.”

“Can we please just stop talking about this?” you say with a sigh, putting away the coke to sip on your drink once again, concluding it tastes much better now.

“Not until you admit you have a big-ass crush on Taehyung,” May replies, glaring at you. “You shouldn’t let the dickfaced demon mess with your head, you know. Especially after a whole year.”

“I’m not!” you protest immediately, but the pointed looks both your friends send you make you rethink your words, rubbing your forehead. “I’m not,” you weakly repeat. Another set of pointed looks thrown your way, and you sigh deeply. “Okay, I might be,” you finally admit. “I just don’t –” You stop yourself, sighing again and shaking your head. “Let’s just get drunk and move on from this. I’ll go wallow in self-pity later, okay?”

“Nah-ah,” April says, a bright grin spreading over her face as she pushes herself off the counter, softly beginning to sing, “Y/N and Taehyung sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.” She repeats it again and again and again, voice growing louder and louder, and she raises her cup and twirls through the kitchen as if it’s the best bop she’s heard in her lifetime. You can’t help but laugh at the sight, especially when May joins in, acting like you’re in your dorm and there’s no chance of anyone interrupting you.

“I’ve opened the door to first grade,” a disbelieving voice suddenly says from the kitchen’s doorway, making you all freeze in your tracks, slowly turning to the person who interrupted you, now walking towards the counter for a refill.

May is the first to break the slightly awkward silence. “Yoongi, right?” she says casually, clearly hoping to make him forget what he just saw.

The guy in question nods, briefly glancing at the three of you from underneath his lashes as he scans the bottles stalled out on the counter. He pulls a face when his hand passes the bottle of tequila and you snicker a little, mind flashing back to the story Taehyung had told you on Valentine’s night. “Something funny, new girl?” he inquires, narrowing his eyes at you.

You slowly shake your head, though you can’t help but snicker again.

It takes Yoongi a moment. His eyes flash back to the counter, then to you, your pursed lips and rosy cheeks, and it seems to dawn on him. “Don’t tell me he told you,” he says through an exasperated sigh.

You keep your lips pursed in an attempt not to burst out in laughter, shaking your head again, but Yoongi sees right through it. Anyone would – you’re a little too tipsy to be discreet at the moment.

“I’m going to kill him,” Yoongi huffs, shaking his head in disappointment as he pours himself a hearty cup of rum with a tiny bit of coke. “I’m actually going to murder that guy.”

“Let him kiss her first, will you?” April butts in, leaning her elbow on your shoulder. Your mouth falls open and you lightly hit the back of her head, but she doesn’t budge.

Yoongi just snorts, taking a large sip from his drink, decidedly not flinching as the alcohol makes its way down. “I’ll do my best,” he replies, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Though he might just choke on his tongue when you talk to him again.”

You look back at Yoongi with wide eyes, too stunned to say anything back.

“All the more reason to go up to him, right?” May tells you, patting your shoulder. “Saves Yoongi over here some tedious work and a hefty prison sentence.”

“Cheers to that,” Yoongi adds, raising his cup and taking another large gulp, refilling it when he puts it back down.

Narrowing your eyes at May, you huff. “Because you’re all about efficiency, aren’t you?”

She just sends you a smile, nodding seriously. “Oh, definitely.”

“You?” you repeat in disbelief, eyebrows shooting up. “The May who butters her toast with a spoon when she doesn’t want to clean the knives?” you continue, tilting your head. “The one who tried to make frozen yoghurt because she didn’t want to leave the dorm to buy it at the store literally next door? That May?”

“The one and only,” she says with a grin, not one ounce of confidence lost. In the corner of your eye, you see Yoongi chuckle as he screws the cap back on the bottle of rum.

You hum with a disbelieving look on your face, looking back at Yoongi. “Anyways,” you begin, though you don’t really know where you want to go with that sentence – just away from this damn topic. “How are you –”

“He’s in the living room,” Yoongi interrupts, putting the bottle of rum back on the counter. “Thought you might want to know before we get into the small talk.” He raises his cup once more and saunters out of the kitchen, leaving you in a flustered silence, while you see your friends exchange mischievous looks. And before you can try to get yourself together, April and May are pushing you out into the living room, locating Taehyung before you can even blink and pushing you into his direction with twinkling eyes and wide smiles.

You stumble and find purchase against the wall, just inches away from Taehyung, who has his back turned to you as he talks to a group of friends. For a moment, you just stand there, looking back at your supposed best friends, who are wildly gesturing for you to turn around and get his attention. You shake your head and make a cutthroat motion, glancing over your shoulder to see he hasn’t turned around or noticed you in any way, and you look back at your friends, planning on walking back, or perhaps running out the front door to really be done with it.

Then suddenly, a ping pong ball comes flying out of nowhere and you dodge it, your eyes following its trajectory until it bounces against the back of Taehyung’s head. He turns, eyes falling on you a second later. You just smile at him, fighting the urge to spin around and flip off April and May – the culprits behind all of this, no doubt.

“Y/N!” he calls over the music, a wide smile on his face. “Good to see you again!” You notice he gives you a quick once-over, smile unfaltering. “I like your camisole,” he remarks, pointing to it.

Ha, throw it in a fire, my ass. “Thanks!” you say in reply, your smile starting to feel more natural now, though your hands are growing clammy. “It’s good to see you too,” you add, fingers fiddling with the red plastic of your cup.

He smiles, and you feel your worries melt away. “So, how are you liking the party?” he asks, leaning his shoulder against the wall. “Bored yet?”

You grin up at him, lifting your cup to eye height. “How can I be bored when there’s free alcohol?”

He laughs, shaking his head. “And here I thought my stories taught you something,” he says, feigning considerable disappointment.

“I’ll pay more attention next time,” you promise, lightly patting his shoulder.

Smiling at you, he nods firmly. “Good to hear that, Y/N. I aim to educate,” he says, taking a sip. Half of his face might be hidden behind his cup and the lighting in here is pretty bad – but you swear you see his cheeks are flushed red.

It’s just the alcohol, you tell yourself.

“Oh, by the way, speaking of those stories…” you start with a sheepish smile. “I might have accidentally told Yoongi you told me the frozen pizza story and now he might be slightly annoyed.”

His eyes widen as soon as the words leave your mouth, then dart around the room. “You did?” he asks, searching, searching, searching... and then freezing in his tracks.

“Yeah?” you answer cautiously, turning to look over your shoulder at the thing that’s gotten Taehyung so wide-eyed – and you spot Yoongi. He’s standing across the room but looking at the two of you, one eyebrow cocked, a lazy smirk teased over his lips. When he makes eye contact, he calmly lifts his cup and chugs its contents, wiggling it afterwards for good measure.

“Fuck,” Taehyung breathes. “What did he get himself? Do you remember?” he asks frantically, looking back down at you.

Taken aback by this sudden change of tone, you stammer a little, trying to remember what it was that Yoongi poured into his cup. “Rum!” you exclaim once your memory finally clears up. “Rum, he got rum.”

Taehyung lets out a shaky breath, gently taking your cup out of your grip and putting it away along with his own. He then takes your hand, which sends a jolt of electricity up your arm, upping your heart rate considerably. “Y/N,” he starts, taking a breath. “We need to get out of here.”

“What?” You look over your shoulder again. Yoongi has now retrieved a bottle of tequila from somewhere and, while the look on his face is relatively neutral, the fact that the guy next to him is pulling a concerned, empathetic face at you sends a shiver down your spine. “Why?” you ask anyway.

“He’s going to make me –”

“Hey, Tae!” Yoongi suddenly shouts, his voice loud enough to be carried across the room, audible even over the music. Taehyung’s hand tightens around yours as Yoongi takes a step forward, heading towards you…

And then you’re dashing off.

You’re panting when the door slams closed behind you, your legs finally getting some rest now that Taehyung’s pulled you into the safety of whatever room this is.

“I think we escaped him,” he concludes as the both of you catch your breath, leaning your back against the now locked door. After a few more seconds of silence seem to support that conclusion, Taehyung leans away from you to switch on the lights to illuminate the room.

It’s relatively small but bigger than the one you sleep in. Various paintings, most of them by Van Gogh, are printed out on thin paper and pasted to the yellowish walls, accompanied by tons of pictures of Taehyung in different places, posing with different people – the only common thing in these photos is his boxy smile. A small desk is situated against the wall, with a laptop and some notebooks strewn about its surface, small handwriting filling the pages. A pile of clothes is draped over the chair that sits at the desk.

“So Yoongi’s that bad, huh?” you remark, still leaning against the door, not quite knowing what to do with yourself.

He laughs and nods, brushing past you to fall onto his bed, face first. You decide to find a seat too, and you pull out his desk chair and sit down on it, trying not to press too much on the clothes draped over the backrest. You hear a heavy bass booming right below you, though it’s silent out in the hallway, which does seem to indicate you’ve escaped whatever punishment was in store for you – for now.

“Rum Yoongi is a vengeful guy,” Taehyung explains, rolling over and sitting up.

“Sorry,” you say with an apologetic smile.

He smiles and waves your apology away. “It’s fine, we’ll be cool in like an hour.” When your eyebrows shoot up in curiosity, he continues, “Rum Yoongi is also a forgetful fellow.”

You snicker at his words, crossing your legs. “So what do you think he would’ve made you do?”

“That bottle of tequila?” You nod slowly, eyebrows raised as you wait for him to continue. “Yeah, he definitely would’ve made me chug the whole thing.”

“What, can’t hold your alcohol?” you joke, grinning at him.

He simply narrows his eyes at you, planting his hands on his bed for support as he leans back. “Don’t make me prove it and pass out in the backyard again,” he shoots back, staying serious only briefly, until you snort and he lets out a laugh. “No, in all seriousness, I wasn’t really looking to get drunk tonight.”

“Don’t feel like the hangover tomorrow?”

He looks at you for a second with a thoughtful expression, seems to hesitate in giving you an answer. But then he replaces that expression with a small smile, nodding. “Something like that, yeah,” he replies softly, clearing his throat and averting his eyes.

“Plus, you probably don’t want to get thrown out a window, right?” you say, mind flashing back to the other drinking story he told you on Valentine’s.

He looks up at you, confused for a moment, though his face then clears up and he smiles. “Yes, that too,” he confirms, nodding. “Oh, I should show you the crime scene of that once we’re out of here!”

You chuckle, raising your eyebrows. “Crime scene?”

“Oh, yes,” Taehyung says with a grin. “It’s Jungkook we’re talking about here, so of course he had to make a whole thing out of it. He stole Seokjin’s crime scene tape and had an absolute field day.”

You chuckle, deciding not to ask why someone would have crime scene tape in their possession, and why he’d talk so casually about it. “This frat sounds absolutely wild,” you mutter, more to yourself than to Taehyung, though he smiles and nods in reply. Propping your feet up on his chair to hug your knees, you add, “Isn’t it ever too much?”

He laughs, looking down at his lap. “It can be, sometimes,” he admits, looking back up at you. “But that’s why there are coffee shops, right?”

You nod. “Yeah, just for frat bros that want some rest from their frat, and people who write screenplays.”

He laughs, nodding. “And people who are alone on Valentine’s.”

Feeling a soft smile break out, you nod absently. There’s a short silence, and you can hear your heart pounding in your ears as you just… stare at each other. You feel the blood rush up to your entire face as his eyes stay on you, and you take a breath.

“Is there something on my face?” you mutter, unable to avert your eyes from his.

He blinks, seeming to jump out of the trance the both of you were in. “No, I just uh… I was thinking…” He sighs and shakes his head. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way or anything.” The words, the way he says them, the look on his face – they all make you nervous, anxious, even. “Just trying to figure out if you’re here because you wanted to come, or because your friends forced you to.”

Internally, you’re screaming at yourself for being so overtly awkward that he not only noticed it, but that he also seems to be genuinely concerned about it.

Externally, though, you just smile and fidget with your fingers. “Bit of both, I guess,” you confess, cautiously looking up at him from underneath your eyelashes.

A smile is teased across his lips as he tilts his head, a curious look washed over his face. “How come?”

You shrug, looking down at your hands as you play with the denim fabric of your jeans. There’s a ton of different ways you could word the reply, but only a few that won’t ruin the mood. As if there is any in the first place. “I guess they just know when I need to be pushed out of my comfort zone,” you finally say, lifting your head to look at him.

“So I’m outside of your comfort zone, huh?” he teases with a kind smile, drawing a bit of laughter from you.

“Any crush is outside of my comfort zone.”

As soon as the words tumble out of your mouth, your eyes widen and you freeze. Your face reddens and you feel like you could literally fall through his bedroom floor right now, straight into the crowd of partygoers below – and it would still be less embarrassing than this.

You swore to yourself you’d never let yourself go like this again. With the shit you went through last year, when you’d been broken up with through letter and ignored afterwards, you promised yourself you would never put your heart out there again. You’d taught yourself to hate the couples around you, to be disgusted with their public displays of affection, the Instagram posts and the Facebook photos – all so you wouldn’t even be tempted.

All so you wouldn’t feel that pressure on your lungs and the tight feeling in your muscles, the jittery feeling you get when you’re looking at Taehyung, who looks no less shocked with your words than you. He was just being friendly and you fucking ruined it.

"I’m so sorry, that was weird, forget what I said,” you quickly breathe out, getting up from his desk chair and putting it back where it was. “I’ll just uh… go downstairs to check up on Yoongi and his revenge plan,” you add as your hands drop to your sides, balling up into fists, fingernails etching crescent moons into your palms. “Bye!” you finish, rushing towards the door and turning the lock.

“Y/N, wait,” he calls pleadingly and you stop in your tracks, hand hovering over the doorknob. You hear the duvet rustling, then footsteps coming towards you. You could still escape this hell, you know you could. You just have to open the door and run – but you don’t.

You turn to look up at him instead, heart pounding out of your chest along with the bass that penetrates the whole house.

“Did you mean that?” he asks, his brown eyes soft and inquiring, awaiting your answer seemingly without judgement.

You hesitate. Should you be honest, should you lie? Should you try to spin this one way or another, or should you just run and hope you never see him again?

Before you can overthink it too much, he takes the hand that is still hovering above the doorknob, gently bringing it down to your side and letting go. “I’m gonna go out on a limb here and guess that this is way outside of your comfort zone,” he says with a soft smile.

You sigh, closing your eyes as you nod. “Just a little.”

“So be honest,” he mutters, his deep voice humming in your ears. “You’re here anyway.”

Your eyes flutter open and you look at him, a sense of calm washing over you when he sends you an encouraging smile, a reassuring nod.

And so, with ever-growing nerves in your belly, you take a breath. “Yeah, I meant that,” you whisper, though you don’t know why you’re talking so lowly. “But I really hope that that won’t change anything. I just –” You sigh, shaking your head, stopping yourself before you go into rant mode. “I don’t know. I just like hanging out with you.”

A smile tugs at his lips and he takes a breath, letting it back out. It fans over your face, allowing you to pick up the scent of raspberry and vodka, and you briefly wonder what he would actually taste like. Quickly stopping yourself while you’re ahead, you avert your eyes.

“Actually,” Taehyung starts, drawing your gaze back to him. “I –”

“TAE!” someone suddenly shouts, making the both of you jump a mile in the air, startled apart. “COME DOWN, HOSEOK DRANK TOO MUCH AGAIN!”

Taehyung closes his eyes and lets out a breath. “Coming!” he shouts into the hallway, turning back to you. “I guess he got his revenge some other way,” he mutters with a bitter smile, although you’re a bit confused by the comment. “Look, before I go, I just need to say –“

“TAE!” the same voice shrieks again, and he lets out another sigh, shaking his head, muttering something you can’t quite make out.

“Yes, yes, coming!” he repeats to the closed door, then looks down at you. “I’m so sorry, I’ll be right back, okay?”

Dazed, you nod, and soon enough, you’re left in Taehyung’s room to yourself, alone with your thoughts. Great. You sigh, looking around, pondering whether you should sit down and wait for him here, though there’s one screaming question that completely overpowers any ability to think clearly about that.

What the hell was he going to tell you?

You couldn’t read anything in his face that would indicate in some type of way what his intentions were, how he actually felt about this stupid fucking crush you’d confessed to. What you do know for damn sure, though, is that he simply left without giving you any indication of what you could expect – and the only reason you can come up with is that he just didn’t know how to break some bad news to you, that he didn’t know how to tell you he didn’t quite feel the same way.

With a groan, you bury your face in your hands, shaking your head. Why did your brain just decide to make you utter those words? What in the world told you that it was the right time and place to break the news to him when you didn’t even want to admit it to yourself?

As the bass continues to boom through you, you drop your hands back to your sides, glancing at the door, now ajar. You should save him the trouble of rejecting you outright, save yourself from the embarrassment of having to look him in the eye while he does it.

You need to get out of here.

previous • next

a/n: yikes, what an ending, hm?👀 I guess the will they/won’t they continues😏😏😏 Anyways, thanks for reading, I really hope you liked it!! Let me know what you thought and what you think might happen next, I’d love to hear from you :)

masterlist

[l-matthews97]

The Rest of Your Life

"Hello, dear boy," a voice gently called from the darkness stirring Sam awake from his deep slumber. He blinked a few times and found that the world did not become brighter as he opened his eyes. Wherever he had woken up was pitch black. No light shined in from any window or crack that may or may not have been there. He felt his eyes dart around for a moment before he realized how stiff and sore his body was. The young man let out a groan and struggled to sit up on the cold hard surface he had woken up on. His joints refused to loosen and his muscles wound tighter from his movements but he was soon propped up on the palms of his hands. His eyes glanced around again to find anything he could fix them to but all he was allowed to do was stare into seemingly infinite void. "Whose...whose there?" Sam called out as he had realized that the voice he heard came from this reality and not the dream one. The young man waited for several moments with only the darkness answering back with it's sinister silence. With the lack of any audible response, Sam shifted slightly with his hands outstretched to his left as he desperately searched for a vertical surface to rest his back on. Though, before he could find anything there was finally a response. "I don't believe my name matters at this point. In a few minutes I doubt you'll even remember it," the stranger said with a grim rusty voice which sounded like metal scratching against metal. Sam's breath caught in his throat and his heart thumped at a startled rate. His body froze and he didn't want to move another inch until he was more comfortable with the situation. "Where am I?" Naturally, this was the next question the young man could conjure up. This time sam stayed motionless and listened very carefully for the voice. Though, just like last time, there was several moments of just the darkness whispering it's silence to him again. He so desperately wish he could see something even just an outline of any shape would suffice. Just something he could fix his constantly moving eyes on. "You're not where you used to be. That much you know for sure," the stranger finally recipricated. Sam flinched from the scratchy voice which he now determined eminatted just a couple feet in front of him. The young man shivered as the situation grew surreal to him. He didn't know where he was or how he got here. He didn't know what the stranger was doing just a short distance in front of him nor did he even know their name. What if this stranger was the one who brought him here? What are they planning to do with him? Will he even live long enough to see a sunrise again? These questions bounced around inside Sams head with the quickness of ping pong balls but the the density of bowling balls. He struggled to fire another question off since he didn't wish to know the answers of the ones rolling around in his mind. He finally decided to move again but he thought it best not to travel forwards since he didn't wish to get closer to the stranger. So, he slowly scooted backwards. He patted the ground behind him to check if anything was in his way then he pulled himself back with his palms. He repeated this procedure a few times just scooting back an inch or so at a time. He managed to do this for quite some time without alerting the stranger to his improvised escape. He felt like he had traveled quite a good distance yet he still didn't run into a wall or anything for that matter. His arms soon grew tired and he became sick of scrapping his butt on the rough surface beneath him. So, he stopped and decided to test how far he had gotten by asking another question. "Do you know where I came from?" Sam asked but the silence neglected to keep a lingering silence between them this time. "I wish you would stop asking me questions I cannot answer," the stranger replied immediately and sams heart climbed into his esophagus. The voice came from just a few feet in front of him again. This couldn't be. He had moved so far away or at least it felt like he traveled a few good yards yet the voice sounded even closer. Sam

trembled since he didn't even hear any movement other than his own while he was trying to create some distance. Fear gripped the young man for a few moments but luckily he was able to swallow his thumping heart back into his chest and attempt to get away again. Again he slid back, this time about a foot at a time or that's what it felt like at least. He reached far back with his arms and pulled until his butt was in the same place as his hands. He repeated this over and over. This time, his arms were fatigued faster and his butt couldn't handle anymore of the friction created from the movements. So, he stopped and wanted to test the voice once more but couldn't think of anything to ask. Eventually, he decided to not ask another question to give an empty compliment. "You look lovely today?" He stated in a quiet voice and the stranger answered even faster "im sure I do." Terror now gripped the young man as the voices was no longer a few feet away but mere inches from him now. Sam felt the hot breathes of the stranger wash over his face and move his short black hair. Each exhale hit him like a red hot freight train and each inhale chilled him to the bone as the air rushed pass his face. He didn't know what to do. He definitely didn't want to speak again and he didn't wish to move either as he realized the further he moved away the closer the stranger became. He only sat there, frozen with fear and anticipation as he waited for the stranger to make their move. Sam expected a touch that would jolt him out of his skin since the breathing made him tremble like tree in a harsh wind. Though, nothing came. He only felt the inhale then exhale of this stranger that refused to leave him alone. He shivered and stared into the darkness in front of him with still no shape or sliver of light manifesting for him to focus on. His eyes still darted and he trembled as he felt the vast space seem to grow larger around him. Even with this sharp voiced stranger remaining only inches from him, the young man felt a solitary veil drape over his face. He shivered for a moment more before mustering the courage to speak again "why are you here." Even though sam couldn't see any part of the stranger, he felt a smile grow on their lips as they were amused by the question. "Now, that is something I can answer confidently but I wish to wait on it for awhile," the stranger responded in a softer tone yet still retained the rusty, almost prosecuting, pitch. Sam felt a stream of frustration mix into the swirling ocean of fear inside him. He wondered why this stranger was being so secretive and still pondered on why he was being kept here. "What are you?" Sam finally asked as his imagination ran wild since he couldn't see this stranger who still neglected to reveal themselves. A soft chuckle came from the darkness before a solid answer followed "I am you." A solid answer, yet one that surfaced more questions than it answered. Before Sam could even reciprcate, the stranger continued "well, I am a piece of you. A very small insignificant piece that you have neglected for year's." Sam was still beyond confused. He wished to ask far more questions yet the voice came again before he could part his lips. "I use to be big, a very big part of you but you began to travel down a...dark path which lead to irresponsible decisions. With each of these horrible decisions I shrunk. I tried to stop you, I tried talking civily but as you shrunk me I resorted to screaming. I screamed a lot for awhile but you still refused to listen to me. Eventually, you squished me so much that I lost my voice and you continued with your decisions." Sam froze again as he began to realize who this stranger really was but still more questions rose to his mouth "where...where am I?" Another chuckle floated through the darkness before an answer followed "you are here with me and you will be here for a long, long time. Now, you have no choice but to listen to me." Sam scooted back one more time in a last desperate attempt to gain some distance but as he did he felt the breathing become his own.

Then, the voice echoed inside his head "I am going to show you your every sin, your every misdead, your entire decrepit life." A loud booming laugh nearly split sams skull causing him to collapse to his side and curl up in fear and helplessness. "We are going to have a lot of fun together."

[its-lifestyle]

Cats rule in our house, so when one of us humans has to be away, we work hard to make sure it doesn’t impact their cushy lifestyle. When I go for my annual trip home to see my mum, Tom reorganises his schedule and yet our furry divas act as though they’re suffering agonies of deprivation.

To amuse themselves, the little fiends plague him with all kinds of innovations. A trip or two ago, they convinced him to serve extra meals. This year, Target decided they needed a steady flow of homecooked chicken – and my hapless better half caved completely and delivered.

Despite being spoilt rotten, the cats greeted my return with happy purrs. Target sat on top of me and then he helped me unpack. Despite the chicken diet, my old boy wasn’t happy until he saw the suitcase put back in the cupboard.

Swooner demanded kisses and immediately asked for his Spanish cat treats. As for Tic Tac, she has grown an inch, filled out and she looks shiny healthy. She brought me her new ribbon and asked for kisses too, just like her brothers.

After all the excitement, Swooner sloped off to visit his friend Charlie across the street. I wasn’t surprised because Charlie and Swooner are close. In fact, their friendship deepened while I was away.

As the cats were shut in during office hours, a move to safeguard them, Swooner would go out as soon as Tom came home. It was a protest move and even the free flow of chicken didn’t completely make up for the hours of shut-in.

Swooner tells a good sob story because Charlie’s mum WhatsApped regularly with cute photos of Swooner romancing her for extra meals. At one point, I saw Swooner have dinner while Skyping home and, 10 minutes later, photos of him came in from our neighbour documenting our pet meowing pitifully about starvation.

I knew Swooner had been taking advantage but as he did the same last year, I expected matters to return to normal. They didn’t. A week after my return, Swooner was still spending most of his waking hours at Charlie’s.

I blamed myself, deciding that it was my fault because we adopted a kitten. Tic Tac is a sweetie but she does run wild and as she adores Swooner, she’s all over him all the time. The second he puts a paw in the door, she’s hanging around his neck, wanting to play.

Now with Target being 10 years older, Swooner wanted a friend. However, as I watched him interact with Tic Tac, I understood he had discovered that kittens are hard work.

Swooner doesn’t look pleased at all from being teased by Tic Tac the kitten. Photo: Ellen Whyte

Tic Tac is super bouncy every waking second. She climbs the sofa, the curtains and she runs up and down the stairs. It’s OK; that’s what kittens do. But Swooner is now a mature cat, young but grown up, and he’s not totally into kitten games anymore. Some human people are the same, so I do get it.

Yesterday morning, I tried to see the positive side. I reminded myself that Swooner was coming home for meals, for cuddles and to sleep at night. In fact, the night before, he was in bed with me, purring up a storm and demanding that I rub his tail and ears. Those are all signs that Swooner loves me.

But despite the pep talk, I wasn’t very happy. Then, while I was fretting, there was a growl outside. I opened the door and there was Swooner, growling at Charlie.

That’s pretty typical. Charlie generously allows Swooner into his territory but Swooner does not reciprocate.

Charlie is not allowed in our garden and he’s not allowed to talk to me for more than a minute.

So there was poor Charlie, just sitting on our doorstep, with Swooner growling and showing his hackles. When I went out to mediate, Charlie was visibly upset but not moving. The reason? A toddler out for a walk with grandma.

That little boy adores cats. As he is very gentle and brings treats, you’d think the cats would hail him with open paws. However, some other thing spooked Swooner, so he did the sensible thing and ran home. Then Charlie had followed his friend.

It was simple to sort out. I picked up Swooner and took him inside, at which Charlie went to see his small human friend. Seeing Charlie happily rolling on his back so he could get some quality petting, I left him to it and went to speak to my boy.

Swooner was sitting on the stairs with a grumpy look on his face. But when I picked him up, I got a head butt and a purr. Swooner saw the little boy handing out treats but he wanted to spend time with me. For half an hour, he sat on my lap, paddling his paws, butting me and running his purr at loud.

That bit of personal time has cheered me up and helped me get some perspective.

Swooner is spending a lot of time with Charlie and that’s OK. They’re being cats together, that’s all. It doesn’t mean Swooner loves me less. As for the meals, well, he’s having his cake and eating it. That’s standard cat behaviour.

For now, Swooner has a home with us, and a home away from home with Charlie. When Tic Tac is a little older and less bratty, Swooner will spend more time in his own house. I can also help foster their relationship.

So, I’m sending Charlie’s mum a thank you gift for being kind to my boy. I’m adding some treats for Charlie too. Lots of them because I’ve no doubt Swooner will be there, claiming he hasn’t seen any and is in desperate need.

If you have an energetic kitten, you can help it expend some of its energy by playing with it. Your older cats won’t want to play all the time whereas your kitten will. Photo: 123rf.com

How to help cats get along

Introducing a kitten into a home with older cats isn’t easy. Young cats have high energy levels and they’re not too hot about boundaries. Older cats, especially those who are elderly, sometimes don’t have the patience for it.

If that’s you, here are a few things you can do.

1 Institute personal time with your older cats. Your older pets are used to one-on-one time with you and it’s important they don’t feel neglected. So, set aside time when you sit and do the things you both like. For me and Target, it’s snuggling and having him on my desk while I work.

2 Be rigorous about separate bowls at mealtimes. Little cats will bounce from bowl to bowl and older pets will let them get away with it because they’re kind. However, it makes mealtimes stressful. So, feed the kitten by itself in a room and then have communal time afterwards.

3 Involve yourself in their play. Older cats will teach kitten the “rules” of playing, so don’t worry if there’s the occasional hiss or smack. However, your older cats won’t want to play all the time whereas your kitten will.

4 Take the pressure off by playing with your kitten. Ping pong balls, ribbons, feather toys – there are plenty of games that will keep you both amused. Also, don’t be surprised if the older pets join in sometimes!

5 Finally, be patient! It takes time to adjust. Also, cats aren’t human so sometimes they run purely on emotion. Relax, don’t push it too much and, if you’re stressed, talk to a sensible friend about it.

from Family – Star2.com https://ift.tt/2OOSuci

[jjdoggies-fanfics]

Annie’s Revenge, Chapter 3

I overheard Levi and Eren talking in the conference room as I was heading to the canteen to play beer pong then to go to Jean and Connie’s room to play strip poker. Levi was telling Eren “She is doing better than anyone expected especially so fast.” “She's a fighter always has been, and probably always will be.” Eren said back to Levi. Levi then continued with “The way this looks you will have no problem with helping her stay in the scouts.” “I better get going then because they are about to start playing beer pong in the canteen. Do you want to come?” Eren asked Levi.

I started walking down the hallway towards my room when Eren came out and yelled down the hallway “Hey Mikasa,...” He ran over to me and grabbed my hands and continued “... Babe the game is this way.” I stared into those dreamy emerald green eyes and fell in love with him, again I guess. He lead me back towards the canteen where everyone else already was and ready to start.

“Ok, the teams are Eren, Mikasa, Armin, and Jean vs. Connie, Sasha, Ymir, and Me.” Krista told everyone. “All right Hot-Shots vs the lightweights.” Jean said “Jean no one ever agreed to that stupid name.” Eren snapped. “Shut up you too. Who cares about a stupid name it won't affect how we play anyway.” I told them. They both looked at me stunned. “What?” I asked “Mikasa you never talk like that. Especially to Eren. Armin told me. “Let’s just start.” I said. “Okay, Mikasa you start. I nodded grabbed a ping pong ball and bounced right into Connie’s cup. “Damn Eren. Is there anything she isn't good at. She is an amazing soldier, mad game skills, and a nice ass.” Jean said while grabbing my butt. I turned around and slapped him across his face. “Shut the hell up and never touch me again.” I snapped at him.

“Um, Krista who's going next?” Jean asked. “Um,...” Krista looked at her papers when Ymir interrupted her “I’ll go.” She bounced into Jean’s cup. “That’s it. I’m sick of you girls beating me at everything…” Jean said “... I'm going” he bounced into Ymir’s cup. We played until everyone was intoxicated. “Ok, let’s go play some strip poker!” Jean said.

He grabbed my hand and lead me into his room shortly followed by a angry Eren and everyone else shortly behind. Again the game was set up before we arrived. The order was Eren, Me, Armin, Sasha, Connie, Ymir, Jean, and then Krista. We were playing for about an hour until Levi was knocking at the door telling us to go to our rooms.

I had my scarf, my bra, my panties, and my shorts left. Most of the guys only had their boxers on. Sasha, Ymir and Krista were in just a bra and panties. We all put our clothes back on and started leaving Jean and Connie's room.

In the middle of the night some alarm started going off and lights were flashing. Sasha told me to stay here while she figured out what was going on. She left, soon before the lights turned back off. Someone entered the room through the window. “Who’s there?” I asked. “Who do you think bitch.” Said the voice then a strange smelling rag was in my face then it went black. Well blacker.