what if i did find him

R: They take care of you when you’re having a migraine.

Requested by anonymous:

Hi really love your writing!! I would love to see your take on how the boys would take care of you while your having a migraine. Thanks so much. 💞💕💞❤💞💕💞💕💞💕💞❤💗💕💖💕

A/N: Thank you for your sweet words !! :D 💕 I’m really sorry this is so incredibly late but I still hope you’ll be able to enjoy it ~ Wrote this half-asleep tbh ;A; I’m tired

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Okay but there’s something very important to me that I haven’t seen being talked about yet

If I read between the lines properly, Ryan didn’t survive Valentine’s apocalypse.

But Jamal did. And if their relationship was what I’ve always thought it was, which looks likely, it must have been so hard to lose him. They were always together, he probably blames himself for what he did to the person he loved under the effects of Valentine’s chips. I don’t know how much time has passed between the movies, but Jamal has been through so much, and it looks like he’s strong enough to be moving on. I’m so proud of him.

I’m proud of him for finding love again, and smiling and being there for his friends, even if he’s still too afraid of losing control of himself that he won’t even light up.

I just really love Jamal, guys

I finally finished SR after many delays of school and chores. This is my favorite picture in the concept art gallery~

***SPOILERS BELOW*** You might wonder how there’s spoilers if you’ve already played Metroid 2 which is what I stupidly thought.

***THINK AGAIN***


Now let me tell you: I. Love. My. Baby. He’s a good boy. He follows me everywhere and uses elevators even though he floats and oh my gods I love him. But…

This is where the SPOILERS come into play

I noticed I kept finding upgrades even after I beat the Queen. Why did I need more. Unless… there’s another freaking boss. And there was. Ridley go back to your own game. He took my baby. This is what Super Metroid was about you know.

But the cutest part, is how the baby interacts during the fight. First Ridley holds him and I’m so worried he’ll pop like a little water balloon. Then Samus takes him back and is all “Don’t you touch my baby! Go wait in the car I’ll be done soon” AND HE DOES. Little guy just floats above the ship waiting like a good kid. In the last phase of the fight, Samus was pinned down and this guy comes outta no where and latches his tiny self onto Ridley’s giant beak and starts sucking life force out then gives it to Samus.

A) HOW ADORABLE
B) Metroids are now batteries

He continues to give health throughout the fight. I haven’t fought with the guy since Super Metroid, this was so nice.

Though seriously Ridley wtf, this is the entire plot of Super Metroid, why are you here??

anonymous asked:

What about Lance meeting people with the same old medieval opinion regarding a child must be raised by onlh a mother and a father to be in a healthy environment but it back fired like: "How are you even sure that your daughter likes him? Where did you even find this man?" Lance:"It was Luce. Luce found him before I did"

YES! This is amazing and I love it whole heartedly. And shiro could be walking up with Luce in his arms, both babbling happily to each other and Lance just kisses them both on the cheek because maybe they aren’t a man and a woman but they are still who Luce loves for parents. 

anonymous asked:

Prompt 17 for Jonsa pls! 😊

I hope you don’t mind, I’m going to make this a continuation of my previous ficlet, “Don’t try, I’m not worth it” @geekprincess26. Might turn this into an on-going ficlet theme, perhaps?? 

“You’re not getting rid of me that easy” 

~~~

“Hey Jon! How’s it going?” Sansa called out as she walked towards him. 

Jon sighed. He thought he might get a little peace and quiet, he’d discovered a spot behind the library where he could sit and read and not be bothered… How did she find him? 

“Hey Sansa,” he said resignedly. “Just reading.” 

What was wrong with this girl? He’d run into her at least five times in the two weeks since school started, and it was a big campus! 

“Whatcha reading?” she asked, sitting next to him. 

“A book.” 

Sansa rolled her eyes.

“What do you want, Sansa?” 

“To say hi!” 

“You’ve said it.” 

“You’re not getting rid of me that easy, Jon Snow,” she said with a smile. 

He finally raised his eyes and met hers. God, she was beautiful. There were pretty girls at his high school, and they never gave him a second look. Sansa, though… she was stunning. And nice. There had to be a catch. 

“Why are you so hell-bent on being friends with me?” he asked quietly. 

“Maybe I’m a masochist,” she laughed. “I like a challenge. You were so closed off at orientation, I became determined to get to know you.” 

“I’m really not that interesting.” He turned to face her better, and she turned more towards him. 

“I don’t know about that,” she murmured. “I only know a little about you, and I want to know more.” 

Was she batting her eyelashes at him? Maybe she just had something in her contacts… 

Jon cleared his throat. “Well, I guess we could get coffee or something, so you can stop stalking me across campus.” 

Sansa threw her head back and laughed. “Alright, let’s go!” 

“Now?” 

“No time like the present!” 

~~~

Continuation of: https://asongforjonsa.tumblr.com/post/165598140961/are-you-still-taking-jonsa-fic-prompts-if-so-may

Please send prompts!!! https://asongforjonsa.tumblr.com/post/165515087391/nearly-200-writing-prompts-feel-free-to-reblog

Tiny Side Adventures: The Quest

Inspired by this post. Also, check out this version of events by tinysidestrashcaptain.  Sincerest thanks to romananalogicality for the idea, it’s a lot of fun, even if it did grow beyond what I thought it would be.

Pairings: None

Genres: Tiny Sides, Fluff, Adventure, Parenting(ish)

Warnings: Children being adorable, possibly poor grammar

Word Count: 831

Author’s Note: So I said I was going to do a chapter a day…but this one is coming to you early! Enjoy.

Part 1  Part 2

If grown-up Patton could see him now.

He was walking through the woods in his kingdom in search of the morally-ambiguous sorcerer to reverse the potion and set his fellow sides to rights.  He was on a quest to find a way to re-age Logan, Patton, and Virgil back to their normal selves.  And he wasn’t alone. Patton was taking a nap on his chest, strapped in with one of those baby carriers he hadn’t thought he would need for quite some time. Logan and Virgil were in the double-stroller in front of him.  Last he’d checked, Logan had been babbling to his Einstein doll and Virgil had been listening to music with his headphones on (Roman had made him a mp3 player with Disney villain songs on it). 

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Everything in a look:

​The way Killian looks at her is undeniable but what I find most important is how Emma looks at him…both have suffered a great deal of hurt and loss over the years but Emma’s is from people betraying her (leaving her to feel that they willfully with purpose left her) while Killian has lost those he loved to death (which they did not chose).  You can practically see Emma’s amazement that this person from the very beginning (despite a few difficulties) chose to stay with her…to come back for her.  

Then slowly, over time both came to realize that after everything they are no longer surprised by each other or scared, because they are sure of each other. 

Originally posted by graziabea

2

“Of course, of course!” Francine shouted back into the house, “Alfred! Lovino’s ‘ere!” He turned back to Lovino. “‘ow are you, my dear? Getting on well at school? Doing as well as your brother I suppose?”

“Totally,” Lovino said flatly. By now Alfred had joined them at the door.

“What’s up?” He radiated confusion. “What’re you doin’ here?”

“Alfred! Don’t be so rude!” Francine took on an offended tone on Lovino’s behalf.

“It’s Feli,” Lovino cut to the chase, “we were separated in the woods and now I can’t find him.”

Alfred’s face turned immediately from confusion to concern as if someone had flipped a switch. Francine’s face did the same, perhaps even more to all-out panic. After Francine invited Lovino in for a sit-down and a hot drink, Lovino explained the events of what had happened so far. Matthew startled everyone but Francine by supposedly materializing at the door with a tray of hot chocolate. He noticed Lovino was on edge, presumably by his trip through a very dark woods, and by the fact that his brother was missing.

“How about Alfred and I go out to look for him?” He suggested.

Francine caught on at once. ‘Oui, Lovino dear, you stay here and finish up your cocoa. Boys, get a flashlight and take my radio.” She was on her feet and checking her watch. “I’ll call Roma.” She was out the room before Lovino could stop her. He stood up.

“Relax man,” Alfred reassured him as Matthew grabbed a flashlight from the cabinet holding up the television. “Stay here, we’ll find him.”

Lovino sucked in a breath and sat unsteadily back down on the squashy pink chair, obviously perturbed by the whole situation.

Alfred turned to Matthew, who was already shrugging on his coat.

2.2 “Yeah, we’ll find him.”

2.3 will be uploaded on the 29th of September

3

“So stop making that face at me…”

For being someone who’s always sleeping or talking about sleeping or wishing he were asleep Aizawa sure likes being up late at night, doesn’t he

who would have thought I’d have found yet another reason for finding this man relatable

Rivals

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Taehyung

Rating: 18+ (explicit sex, biting / growling / thigh riding / overstimulation - ENJOY)

Word Count: 3,557

Summary: Taehyung is your biggest competition in the workplace. Everything he does just makes you want to scream. HAPPY BIRTHDAY @rudeboywonho , as part of your week of pain fun. 

Originally posted by jeonstyle

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Teacher liked to get too close to my friends in secondary, ended up quitting.

Well, this is my story. I’m a male, 26 yo currently. I was in secondary in grade 10th at that time (not sure how it works in other countries, here in grade 10th students are 15-16 yo).

We had an English teacher, male of about 40. He liked getting too close to girls. I was 15 at that time and I was friends with many of the girls in my classroom.

Well, it happened that my friend, lets call her J, told me that the teacher (let’s call him W) liked getting too close to her, hugged her and liked touching her (not sexually but with sexual connotations) and made her feel uncomfortable. Of course, I did not like that at all. J, then told me that W used to make her kind of indirect-sexual propositions. J was scared because of that, but she did not tell her parents or any adult. I was not going to speak for her, but I had to do something about it.

I was one of the best students in the class, in most of the subjects. I didn’t like W, but anyways, he kinda liked me for being a good student. I started researching and I found out that J was not the only girl that W molested. There were some others who had the same problem.

I was talking with my friend over the phone one night and we came up with an idea. We would write a kind of newspaper article, where we would say all the things the teacher used to say or to do with the girls. We would not put names or something. It would be anonymous. Just W’s name. So I did write a beautiful article where I narrated what I found out. I said that W liked touching girls, that he made sexual propositions to them, etc. and if they did not believe what I wrote, they could ask all girls.

In my town, at that time, it was not common having a computer. So I went to a cybercafe (probably the only one in the town at that time) and I made a word file with the article. I printed it, afraid of being discovered by the place’s owner (in these small towns everybody knows everybody), but nothing happened. I went to a different place to make copies from the article. The store’s owner did not realize anything either.

I was quite afraid, but excited for what would come. We went to the school, had clases as usual, and before the class ended for lunch break, J and I asked permission to go to the bathroom. I gave her about three copies of the article so she would put them in the girls bathroom and I went to the guys’ one. I pasted them inside the cubicles, in the walls.

So break time came, all students went out from their classrooms and many of them went to the bathrooms. It was like watching an explosion. All students started gathering in the bathrooms. It was all a mess, everybody was talking about the articles found there. Some teachers went to see what happened, collected all papers and, I guess, went to the school director with the news.

W, was (obviously) mad at what happen. Filed a report at the police station, and went looking for information on who did that. The ones who new about it were about 5 people but none of us said anything. After the scandal, some other girls decided to talk and it seems that W molested quite a bunch of girls in the school. An investigation went on and teacher decided to quit during the investigation. Not sure if he was found guilty of anything else than just molesting girls, never saw him again.

I was freaked out cuz I thought they would find out it was me who wrote that. W actually went to the classroom, that same day, with a victim-like attitude saying that all was false, and that he suspected that the ones who wrote that were some enemies he had from outside the school because it was quite well written (it seems he thought we were stupid students not able to write that). Who would think that one of the best students, one of the most respectable ones would write that kind of thing?

I must admit that it could have been handled differently, but we were just teenagers and teenagers always think stupidly. Anyways, I don’t regret it. Teachers learned that it was not good business to play with girls like that.

Bring It On | 01

Park Jimin | Comedy | Fluff | Slight Angst | BIO!au | cheerleader!jimin

❝You had long since gotten over your crush on your co captain slash roommate, Jimin. Other than the occasional wandering hand that maybe wasn’t so appropriate for someone who was supposed to be supporting you while you were in the air, or congratulatory smack on the ass after practice he was uninterested. Very, very, very much uninterested.❞

 

You blink down at your lunch tray, a scathing look marring your face when you note the mushed grool on your plate is probably leftovers from yesterday. You eye the cafeteria lady warily when she plops another serving on your tray, expression deadpan—you take longer to move along in line and she thinks she’s doing you a favor by serving you seconds.

“Greta,” you grin pleasantly, inching the tray back in her direction, “you’re doing amazing. Love the enthusiasm, that apron really suits you. However, I pay eight thousand dollars in college tuition and this looks like the wet food I give my dog. Do you think instead of this I could—”

She interrupts you with a wet slap of brown mush being added onto your already growing pile.

Wonderful,” you sigh, when you note the brown spackle on your uniform top, “can I just get a kale salad instead?”

It was for the best, anyway, you chide yourself. The fact that your school served lunch that was about as edible as aluminum foil made dieting easier. The reminder of your diet, however makes you groan as you reach the condiment station, chancing a smell at the ranch dressing in the clear plastic bowl. When you deem it safe enough to consume, you begin working on the croutons—

“Would you like some salad with your dressing?” Someone snorts from behind you.

You lift a wary gaze to Park Jimin, who’s leaning against the counter, working on organizing his grilled chicken. He cocks a brow at you as though he knows you’re glaring, even without looking.

“And to what do I owe this pleasure so early in the morning?”

Jimin rolls his eyes at you, nudging you out of the way so he can dress his own salad.

“Just think of me as your fairy godmother—I get a tingling sensation whenever you start to double carb.” He snorts, snatching the bread roll off your your tray and shoving you in the direction of your regular lunch table.

“It’s wheat.” You say indignantly, snatching it back and shoving it in your mouth.

“Just because wheat bread induces a slightly lower glycemic response doesn’t mean it’s better for you.” He spouts off automatically and you debate whether or not you can smash your head in before he starts scolding, “There’s no inherently good bread, just one that’s gonna make your ass slightly fatter as opposed to one that’s processed whole wheat.”

Apparently there was no avoiding his scolding this afternoon.

“For the record my mother says I have a wonderful figure,” you inform.

Jimin blinks at you before shoving a piece of chicken in his mouth, “Tell your mom to base for you then.”

“You’re in a fine mood this morning,” you scoff, before sending a teasing smile at your co captain, “I take it the freshman pitched their new uniform idea to you?”

Jimins jaw clenches at the thought, rubbing his aching temples, “I’m all for being a whore. I love the concept, I think it’s great. But I hate the bandage skirt idea. And if we’re going to look like hookers, we should at least be Marilyn Monroe and for like presidents and shit. Not Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.”

“Julia Roberts slander aside,” you glare, “I agree with you. They’re tacky and besides, regionals in three weeks—changing uniforms now would just be complicated, not to mention we have to worry about finding another base now that Hoseok’s graduating.”

“God, don’t fucking remind me, I already have a headache thinking about auditions. But also, I’m so happy you agree which is why I took the liberty of telling them to go fuck themselves.” Jimin grins cheerfully as you stab a pice of kale.

“What did I say about making decisions on my behalf?” You pin him with an annoyed look before throwing your fork down with a clank, “we’re a team Jimin, we make decisions together.”

“Yes and it’s because we’re a team that I know you hate all the things I do.” He explains.

“This is why they don’t respect me.” You say, “at least not as much as they do you.”

“They don’t respect me, they’re scared of me. It’s good for our image. Like a good cop, bad cop kind of thing.” He argues before slicing a piece of his grilled chicken on putting it on your plate, “And will you eat? You wouldn’t have to starve yourself if you made better choices. For example a vinaigrette instead of what is essentially going to be an extra three pounds on your ass.”

You blink at him rapidly before sighing, rising to your feet. “Whatever, Jimin.”

“Hey,” he calls out behind you but you’re already halfway across the cafeteria, equal parts irritable and unamused by Jimins lax behavior. You stop when a hand grips your wrist, “okay jeez I’m sorry. I’m kidding. Quit being a brat and eat your lunch. I said try to drop three pounds not starve yourself.”

“Wow, what a sincere apology,” you snort and attempt to walk away again but he’s gripping you by the waist, far too close for comfort with his front pressed against your back and plush lips at your ear.

This is new. Very new. 

Your roommate was a lot of things, touchy was not one of them. If anything, he prided himself on his personal space and was constantly shoving you out of his room, out of his bed, out of the fucking bathroom

“I’m sorry alright?” He mutters and you close your eyes because he was confusing. So confusing it hurt. “I didn’t mean it. I had one too many bowls of bitch flakes today—either that or you’re PMSi—fucking ow.”

Jimin rubs his side where you elbowed before glaring at you.

“Apology not accepted.” You sniff when he turns you in his arms and there was a time when you would have been ecstatic to be in this position but those feelings have long since fled.

He only tugs you closer with a grin when you don’t fight off his hold. Jimin raises a brow at something over your shoulder and you frown.

“Don’t look now but your baby boyfriend is on his way over,” Jimin whispers before retracting his arms.

“My baby what?” You frown and it only takes you a full second to realize who he’s talking about because before long Jeon Jungkook is crowding your space.

“Hey,” he calls, an arm winding its way around your waist before you’re rolling your eyes at Jimin’s teasing smirk. “What’s going on here?”

“Jungkook,” you greet, before extracting yourself from his hold, “What’s up?”

“I could say the same,” he mutters before nodding at Jimin, “We have a problem here?”

Jimin cringes at his cheesy line before pinning him with a bored look, “Actually we—”

“Me and Jimin were going over cheer stuff. Did you need something?” You interrupt.

“Going over cheer stuff,” Jungkook says back slowly. He stares at Jimin for a second too long before returning his gaze to you, “I just came to check on my girlfriend. I have a game today, you didn’t wish me good luck.”

You close your eyes with a wince when Jimin snorts. A warm palm on your shoulder has you opening them only to glare at the all too mirthful boy in front of you, “Let him down easy, champ.”

With a wave and wink in Jungkook’s direction, Jimin is bounding back towards the lunch table and leaving you with a migraine.

Jungkook is holding your hand and swinging it. You’re not quite sure when that happened.

“Look, Jungkook,” you begin, clearing your throat.

“Oh no.” He sighs.

“What?”

“Nothing is ever good when a girl starts out with ‘look, Jungkook'—my mom, my sister, the dean of students.” He shrugs.

“So you know what’s coming next then?” You ask hopefully.

“Are you gonna put me on academic probation?” He offers and when you shake your head he stares on, “Not gonna lie, I’m drawing a blank here. I just know whatever you’re saying is not gonna be good.”

All hope dies.

“We’re not dating.” You say gently, tugging your hand out of his. It was too big and overly warm.

Jungkook frowns, confusion wrinkling his brow and for a second you almost feel bad for him, that is until he opens his mouth.

“But you let me…” He chances a look over his shoulder before leaning into whisper harshly, “you let me finger you.”

And therein lies your problem.

You knew better—you truly did—than to let the otherwise inexperienced freshman go further than second base but in your defense you were drunk. You were drunk and he was willing and he was fucking Jeon Jungkook. You were a good person but not that good.

“Yes, Jungkook I did but that doesn’t mean I want to date you.” You explain gently.

“But why would you let me touch you if you didn’t want to date me?” He implores and you blink at him because there was no way in hell someone was this naive.

“Because I was horny and you were there.” You say honestly and to your relief there isn’t a look of pain etched on his features only mild confusion mixed in with annoyance. “Now that we’ve got that settled I have a cheer thing I have to—”

“Wait, wait!” He calls out, gripping your wrist, “but what about me?”

You sigh because no matter how innocent or inexperienced Jeon Jungkook seemed he was still a guy at the end of the day, and they all wanted one thing.

“Fine.” You rolls your eyes, “I’ll suck you off after practice but I got to get goin—”

“No. Not that,” he flushes, “I meant what about… what if I wanted to date you?”

You stare at Jungkook a beat and it’s your turn to be surprised because of all the things you expected to happen today that was the last.

“Do you…” You gulp, eyeing him warily, “have feelings for me?”

“No.” He says honestly and you deflate before glaring at him.

“Oh thank God,” you breathe before smacking his arm, “don’t go around saying shit like that. Jesus. Anyway, why would you want to go on a date with me if you don’t like me either? Does that make sense to you?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes at you before tugging you off to an empty corner of the cafeteria, he lowers his voice even though no ones close enough to hear. “Okay don’t look right away but do you see those guys sitting at that table next to the doo—I said don’t look!”

“Ow!” You whine, rubbing at your scalp after he gives your ponytail a hard yank. “Okay, jeez what about them?”

“They’re on my basketball team.” He informs unhelpfully and you give him a bored look.

“You don’t say?” You gasp, a hand shooting up to cover your mouth, “I couldn’t tell from their uniforms and the guy on the table, spinning the basketball, staring at us.”

Jungkook goes quiet again and you feel a headache coming on because what he made up for in looks and general athleticism he lacked in brain cells.

“Are you being sarcastic?” He frowns and what was the point if all your jabs went right over his head?

Instead, you opt for exasperation, pressing a hand to your aching temple. “What about your basketball team, Jungkook?”

“They think I’m a virgin.”

“Well are you a virgin?” You retort, thinking back to the almost painfully awful finger fuck he gifted you with last weekend.

“That’s besides the point,” he waves you off before gripping your shoulders, “I’m in college now. And a guy. Being a virgin is weird and if they find out I haven’t gone all the way I’m toast.”

“So tell them you boned me and let me get on with my life. I give you my permission, young padawan.” You give him a reassuring smack on the arm before walking away, only to be tugged back by your uniform shirt. “What now?”

“That would be great, except they’ll keep hounding me to have more sex which I’m not opposed to I just… I’m not ready yet you know?”

You blink at him, “I don’t know. I’m a slut.”

“Well pretend you get it and date me. Just for a couple weeks.” He says, “If I have a girlfriend they’ll just assume I’m getting laid on the regular and leave me alone.”

“Okay, but what about me? I actually enjoy getting laid on the regular and no offense but getting fingered by you is about as enjoyable as going to the gynecologist.” You sigh and he winces.

“Noted.” He adds dryly before cocking a brow at you, “So are you up for it?”

No!” you throw your hands up, “besides dating you could give people the wrong impression. That I’m into things like—”

“Monogamy?”

Virgins.” You correct with a roll of your eyes. “Sorry Kook, you’re just gonna have to figure shit out on yo—”

“Noona please,” he pleads desperately, hand gripping your upper arm and in all honesty you’re not a hard person to sway but Jungkook is still persistent in his pursuit. He clasps both hands under his chin before dropping to his knees desperately. He’s whining and loudly.

Loud enough to garner attention.

“Will you get up?” You hiss, “People are staring!”

“Will you say yes?” He juts his lower lip out.

“No.” You glare, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Then I’m not getting up.” He pouts.

“Because I care,” you snort, “Camp out here if you want. My answers the st—”

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease,” he whines and you grit your teeth in annoyance, “I’ll owe you big.”

“You’ll owe me?” You cock a brow.

“Yes,” he says desperately, “I’ll do anything.”

Anything?” You ponder and Jungkook’s stomach turns when you openly give him the once over.

“I… shit… yeah, anything.” He sighs.


Jimin doesn’t ask you what’s wrong and you don’t expect him to—you only bang things louder until he’s sighing from his spot on his bed, pausing the game he’s playing to turn to look at you.

“Is something wrong?”

He looks put out, annoyed. You don’t care.

Everything’s wrong.” You mutter, stripping off your uniform and throwing it in the dirty clothes.

You have half a mind to remember that you were still in Jimin’s room but it didn’t matter anyway, you and Jimin had long since passed the initial crush stage of your friendship slash roommate agreement—well at least you had, you were almost entirely positive Jimin felt nothing save for mild irritation for you on a good day. That coupled with the fact that he was very much gay set your worries at ease.

“Be more specific?” He sighs, disinterested.

You pause in rummaging through his clothes long enough to narrow your eyes at him, “I hate boys.”

“Good. More for me.” He retorts instantly, shooting you a warning glare when you pause on one of his good t shirts, “I’m wearing that tomorrow, the sweatshirt you’re looking for is in the back.”

You don’t even shoot him a so much as a thank you as you shimmy out of your sports bra, with your back turned to him and tug his hoodie over head. When you’re settled and warm you shoot a mischievous smile at Jimin who’s still glaring at you before—

“Don’t you—” he cut himself off with a curse when you dive under his covers anyway. Jimin seethes quietly as you nestle yourself beneath his sheets, “You know you have your own room right?”

“Don’t you miss me?” You whine before snuggling closer, much to his annoyance, he opts to pinch your side instead of shoving you off the bed completely. 

“No. Now move over if you want to stay in here.” he scoffs.

“You know I had a really shitty day,” you glare at his side profile and he doesn’t answer, only picks up the controller to un pause whatever he was playing. “it would be nice if you could be even a little bit supportive.”

“I didn’t sign up for emotional support I signed up for half on utilities and you not leaving your pad wrappers on the bathroom floor.” He mutters, still invested in his tv show.

“Jimin.”

“Don’t use that voice, I hate it.” He grunts.

“What voice?” You pout.

“You know, the voice.” He sighs, sending you a glance from the corner of his eye, “The one you use on guys to get what you want. Your baby voice, it’s annoying.”

Your cheeks heat with embarrassment and you feign indifference because Jimin never means to be hurtful, he’s only talking to you like he would any other friend… but you didn’t want to be any other friend? You weren’t sure anymore, about how you felt about him. Things were blurred because while you were sure things bordered on platonic and that mostly had to do with the fact that he was so immune to your feminine wiles (snort), you also knew you didn’t want to be treated like one of the guys or like any other fucking girl on the team, that he mostly couldn’t stand.

You wanted to be special. Special in what way, you weren’t entirely sure.

“You’re a dick.” You retort and he tears his gaze away from the screen long enough to cock a brow at you.

“You knew this upon signing the lease.” He snorts and you don’t reply because really, what was there to say. It was well known, Jimin was in fact an asshole—he didn’t like kick puppies or make orphans cry (intentionally) or anything but he was curt and to the point and you didn’t get your feelings hurt easily which is why things worked between the two of you. “Hey, did you get that playlist I sent you?”

You pause in scrolling through your phone to turn to him, “Yeah actually I did. They’re all kind of slow, did you want to use them for routine?”

Jimins hands slow on the controller but he doesn’t divert his attention this time, only hums his disagreement, “Nah, just new songs I stumbled upon I thought you’d dig. They’re good right?”

“Yeah,” you nod eagerly, “I added them to my library actually.”

“Cool.” Jimin grumbles, clearly done with the conversation and you roll your eyes.

You go on like that for a few moments because Jimins content with silence, prefers it actually over what he calls your ‘incessant chattering’ it’s one of many things he finds annoying about you—from what you can tell. He’s left almost every group chat you’re in.

You talk too much,” he says desperately after one night, a long night of drinking with your team and you’re still sending pictures. He’s in your room and his hairs disheveled and he’s shirtless and he looks delectable and annoyed and seconds away from strangling you.

“Sorry.” You squeak, tugging the blankets up past your chin and he narrows his eyes at you. You can barely make him out in your doorway, but the light from the hallway dances against the planes of chest, making you gulp.

“No you’re not,” he grumbles, throat raspy from liquor and sleep, he sticks a hand out expectantly, “hand it over.”

“W-what?” You push hair back from your face nervously and Jimin adjusts his basketball shorts before sauntering over to your bed.

“Your phone. I’m confiscating it. You’re fucking with my sleep schedule and I have a nine am tomorrow,” Jimin mutters, snatching your iPhone from you. He sends you a menacing glare all while fiddling with the device, “You don’t get to bitch if I drop you on your ass during practice. Now move in.”

“Huh?” Your eyebrows shoot to your hairline at that and Jimin is sending you a bland look, a hand pressed to his aching temple like talking to you is causing him physical pain. But he doesn’t respond only yanks the blanket from under you, making you all too aware of your lack of clothing when the bed dips beneath his weight.

“Move. In.” He enunciates, “I’m drunk as hell, tired as hell, and not up for the walk to my room.”

“It’s across the hall.” You remind him and in the darkness of your bedroom, with the pale moonlight dancing in and reflecting off the single chain Jimin always wears you’re overwhelmed by him. By his scent, his body, his withering stare when he presses a finger to your forehead.

“Sleep now.” He grumbles.

And maybe that was when it truly started, when the both of you settled down after that long night of drinking, him telling you to sleep on your stomach so you don’t choke on your own vomit, and you staring on dumbly, the beginnings of an on again off again infatuation for your roommate, your friend, that never really went away—no matter how unwilling a participant you were.

There’s a brief period of time (that you’ve made a conscious effort to block out) that you openly pined for him. There was no stumbling into the kitchen a mess, with morning breath that threatened to singe his eyebrows off if you struck up a conversation. No. If Jimin had class at nine am, you were up, with your lashes curled and your favorite tinted BB cream by seven forty five—you looked fresh faced, what a boy who hadn’t spent nearly five plus years of his life around girls with bedazzled vaginas would consider natural. But alas—

Jimin is a hairsbreadth from your face and you thank every god you could think of you woke up at the ass crack of dawn to wash your hair. His eyes narrow and he worries his lower lip before pulling back.

“You didn’t blend your neck,” he comments before grabbing his hoodie next to you and bidding you adieu.

For the first month of your crush you spend every morning in the kitchen (after of course closely inspecting your makeup under several different lightings), making him breakfast, green smoothies even. But Jimin is a health nut, on top of being an obsessive perfectionist. He preps his food the night before, likes all of his ducks in a row when he starts his morning at eight fifteen on the dot. His expression the first time you offer him turkey bacon and eggs is a cocktail of mild disgust and disinterest. 

“I’m counting macros this week.” He explains, before transferring his smoothie from the blender into a thermos. 

You tongue at your cheek before taking a bite of the ridiculously chewy meat. 

Your first Valentine’s Day with Jimin is always a memorable one, for sheer comedic relief if nothing else.

The two of you are regularly inseparable at practice, and some of it had to do with you being a fly and him base, your base, but a lot of it was because he didn’t… mesh well with others. He was too blunt, too rough around the edges and he took cheer seriously. The times Jimin spoke about himself were far and in-between, but you distantly remember him telling you that before he started doing cheer he did gymnastics competitively for a good chunk of his life. That explained a lot of things, honestly. Why he was so by the book, strict about everything from uniforms to ponytails, to diets—of all the boys on the squad, he was maybe the only one who gave a shit about stuff like that. It was because of all of that that he made a good co captain, and if it weren’t for his inability to compromise and just generally stomach other peoples presence, you were positive he would have beat you out for the captain position.

It also explained why he was so strong. The guy regularly worked out, yeah but he was like, open the pickle jar strong. And then there was his food intake which was crazy, all things considered, because he ate a lot to build muscle but it was all so healthy you couldn’t imagine anyone enjoying it. You wouldn’t lie, the first time Jimin lifted you during auditions your heart nearly beat out of your chest because he did it all with one arm and caught you effortlessly against his chest.

“Here,” Jimin says, handing you a tumbler filled with purple liquid at the end of practice, he hitches his gym bag up higher on his shoulder and waits for you to accept it. “I brought you a smoothie from home.”

“Thanks, what is it?” You ask, sniffing it and ignoring the glare Jimin shoots your way. It doesn’t smell offensive and you take a hesitant sip, “Actually this is good.”

He nods with a sheepish shrug and you try to tamp down the zoo of butterflies in your chest that are telling you that this is a sign, that Park Jimin making you a smoothie is his weird, male, health nut equivalent of chocolates and a confession. Your heart seems to gain wings at the prospect and then he ruins it like he always does because he’s Jimin and he ruins things. That’s his job title and occupation, Park Jimin, The Ruiner.

“It’s a detox smoothie actually,” he says when you’re already on your second mouthful, cheeks puffed with the berry concoction. Jimin was a lot of things, tactless was one of them, “I thought it would help with… you know. Plus, I do strength training in my free time but this partnership only works if you keep up your end. You should come to the gym with me in the mornings, you’re up anyway with like a full face of makeu—”

You shove the tumbler back at his chest before sucking your teeth at him, “I’m gonna go shower and then head home. See you there.”

Jimin frowns at your retreating figure by glancing down at the smoothie, he takes a sip for curiosity’s sake. “What’s her problem?”

The first time you see Jimin kissing a boy there’s no tell tale signs of arousal that all of mainstream media swore by. Only pure unadulterated jealousy tinged with sadness. You watch the way Jimin cups the boys jaw, the way his own jaw works in time with his lips. It’s not rushed or heated, filled with passion like a lover—it’s slow and a little timid, like the first kiss at the end of a date and your stomach turns.

You watch the two boys pull away, Jimin looking the softest you’ve ever seen. You wondered what it felt like to be the recipient of that gaze, but it wasn’t a side of him you were meant to see, or a moment meant for you, and you reminded yourself that you were intruding. You leave the hallway too quickly that day and maybe sulk for longer than was necessary in the weeks to follow, cry even, because your nineteen year old self is (gag) heartbroken. It won’t be another month of stilted conversation and failed attempts at avoidance until you’ve pushed the feeling to the back of your brain and manage to find a middle ground in your relationship with him.

“If you return my shirt with boob sweat I’m gonna use it to smother you in your sleep.” Jimin reminds and you scoff. “That’s my good shirt.”

“That was one time.” You shoot up indignantly and immediately regret it because with regionals nearing you were doing conditioning instead of regular routines and every muscle in your body was on fire from today’s practice.

Jimin sighs before getting to his knees and giving you a hard look, “Did you—”

“Before you ask whatever you’re gonna ask I came straight here after practice, showered and went to class I haven’t had time to do anything else.” You interrupt and Jimin rolls his eyes at you.

“Lay back,” he orders and you oblige immediately because as strict as Jimin was as far as diet and exercise was concerned, he considered you an extension of himself. His partner. And if you weren’t in good shape you were holding him back which is why he ignores your yells of protest when he pushes back on the leg you have pressed to his chest.

“Okay, okay, okay.” You say, slapping his arm so he would let up, “That’s enough.”

“Shut up.” He says mildly, pushing until your knee was nestled between both your chests. He slaps the back of your calf and you glare, “Straighten this.”

“Fuck off.” You grit out.

He cocks a brow at you and you regret your words when he adds more pressure.

“Jimin, fuuuuck,” you whine earnestly, a hand pressed to his chest because the pain was getting to be too much and he didn’t seem to be letting up anytime soon. He doesn’t recline right away, and you peek an eye open in time to see a look cross his face before he guides your leg back slowly with a nod.

“How’s your knee doing?” He murmurs, and you lean your head back against the pillow when he begins feeling up your leg.

As much as you hated to admit it, Jimin’s extensive athletic career as well as his major proved to be useful on more than one occasion in your house. As an athlete you could appreciate a roommate who was studying physical therapy, especially when it came to the massage aspect.

“It’s been fine these last few weeks,” you shrug, “hasn’t been giving me any problems.”

“Start wearing your knee brace again.” He says when he places one hand on your knee and the other on your ankle. You narrow your eyes when he moves it side to side, “Your knees been giving out at practice. I’ll kick your ass if you dislocate it before regionals.”

“Noted.” You scoff, but it’s more of a gasp when Jimin’s hands are on your hips, barely under his hoodie and skimming the skin just above your spandex. His face is passive all the while, nudging you up the bed.

“Move up, I’m gonna check your range of motion.” He explains and Jimin is all work and no fun. Sometimes you wonder how he can remain so disinterested, clinical at times like this when you feel like your whole body is on fire under his touch.

Your leg is back up in the air and Jimin is moving it in hesitant circles, up and down, side to side and you close your eyes, trying not to gasp everytime he presses your legs closed and tiny shockwaves of pleasure shoot straight to your clit. He never presses down long enough to evoke a reaction but you lay back and relax, enjoying what little intimacy you’re allowed with him.

Everything is good, it’s nice, relaxing, his touch is enough to leave you horny, you’ll probably have to rub one out in your room later but not enough to have you cumming right then and there. Your eyes shoot open when you feel him move in, his hand no longer resting on your leg but on the innermost of your thigh, too high up as he presses down.

Too, too high up. Too, too close to the apex of your thighs.

You cock a brow and in typical Jimin fashion he stares on blandly, cool as a cucumber sitting between your legs and forcing them open.

“Buy me a drink first?” You say a little breathlessly, and joking is your way of coping with this, him, your ego, which was sorely bruised because Park Jimin was more than immune to you and that sucked royally.

“Get your head out of the gutter.” He says, but he does it with a small smile, “If you did this on your own I wouldn’t have to do it for you.”

“It’s not as fun on my own.” You comment.

“It never is.” He teases back and it’s the closest you’ve ever gotten to flirting with him. You simultaneously revel in it and chide yourself for still being so head over hills for someone who sees you as no more than an object in his everyday life, like a lamp or the refrigerator. You’d notice if it were gone but you could always get a new refrigerator.

“Okay, I think I’m good for the night! Thanks I’ll just go back to my room an—”

A crack sounds in the room, echoing off his walls, so loud it nearly drowns out the strangled noise you make in your throat. You blink up at Jimin, equal parts shocked and turned on when he rubs the sensitive skin of your thigh, the innermost part he just slapped. Welts form under his soft palm but he doesn’t look the tiniest bit sorry, in fact, he doesn’t look anything. His expression is just as calm as collected as it was when you had first walked in. It leaves you confused, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

“Did you just…” You gesture between your thighs and Jimin patiently waits for you to continue as he closes your legs back up, letting you know you’re done with at home PT. “Did you just spank me?”

“Take better care of yourself and I won’t have to.” He says softly and you’re searching, searching for something, anything in his face that’ll give you even the slightest idea of what the fuck just happened. But you come up empty, even as he presses on, “Stop skipping lunch to talk to that freshman. Make healthier choices so you don’t have to do extreme diets and stop,” He grips your knee softly before staring up at you, “neglecting your health.”

You nod mutely, when he finishes because there’s nothing else to really say. Jimins been acting weird, very weird these past few days and while every fiber of your being, every natural instinct is telling you ‘he likes you! you love him, offer to suck his dick!’ the rational part of your brain quashes any hope and reminds you how well trying to pursue feelings for your roommate turned out the last time.

“I’m going to bed.” You say dumbly, blinking at him and Jimin nods, not moving to say goodbye or watch you walk out.

You press your back against his door when you leave because Park Jimin would be the death of you, but oh what a way to go.


“Look, I’m sorry okay?” Hoseok sighs, trailing after you as you re-shelf the books you were scanning. Stupid midterm paper. Stupid college.

“Hm, I’m sorry I don’t know what you’re sorry for, unless of course you’re apologizing for interrupting my studying then, I forgive you Hoseok because that’s just the kind of loving, nurturing, sweet captain I am.” You return, back still to the older boy when he rolls his eyes at you, “Don’t roll your eyes at me.”

“I’m quitting the squad.” Hoseok says with a finality that makes you snort.

“‘Kay. Don’t be late to practice today or I’ll shove my foot so far up your ass you won’t be able to walk much less cheer.” You say sweetly.

“I admit, it’s a bit troublesome,” Hoseok sighs.

You whirl around on him at that, eyes narrowed, “Getting your pubes caught in the sticky part of your pad is a bit troublesome—you quitting the fucking team three weeks before a competition is a lot of fucking troublesome you asshole.”

“First of all ew,” He whines something that sounds dangerously close to your name and you don’t have to turn to know he’s pouting, “Second, you know there’s more to life than cheer! I’m graduating soon and I need to focus on my studies, and start looking into a career.”

“Listen here you little bitch,” you hiss, shoving a finger in his face until Hoseok was going cross eyed, “I can smell the entire bag of marijuana you smoked on your way here. Who put you up to this? Namjoon? I’ll kick your ass, I’ll kick his ass and then whichever one of your dumb friends helped coerce you into ‘lightening your load’ before you graduate. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to.”

“But I want to party,” he pouts and nearly eats his words when your eye twitches, “God, you and Jimin are really a match made in heaven, huh? How are two people that are so tiny, so terrifying?”

“Hoseok, you can’t quit we have regionals and the freshman are giving me a fucking ulcer. Where am I going to find and be able to train a base in three weeks?” You implore, pressing a hand to your aching temple.

“I’m sorry,” Hoseok says and he doesn’t look the least bit sorry. You debate on shoving you foot up his ass for old times sake when he pats you on the shoulder, “You’re a good cheerleader. An even better captain, I know you’ll figure it out.”

“Fuck off,” you glare, shoving a finger in his chest, “if anything weird happens to you this week, just know it’s me cursing you.”

You stand there, with your back pressed against the bookshelf for a good minute, just watching Hoseok’s retreating figure. His shoulders are sagged in relief, like he was just let from under a tremendous weight, one he turned around and perched atop your shoulders.

When you get back to your library table you’re pouting, on the verge of losing your shit in the otherwise dead silent room because why, why did bad things happen to good people? As though you weren’t already stressed from midterms, it was like you had a giant fucking sign on your forehead that said ‘hey, screw me over!’

“What is it now?” Someone hums across from you and you barely have time to register that it’s Nayeon before you’re jutting your lower lip.

And for what it’s worth, Nayeon is a good friend because she stops studying, sets her books and binders and pens aside to focus all of her attention on you. Then she listens, and listens, and listens because it’s only been three days since you’ve seen each other but it seems as though a lot has happened. By the time you’re done debriefing her, she’s staring at you, a frown marring her pretty face and her arms crossed over her chest because—

“You’re a glutton for punishment, aren’t you?” she sighs, carding hands through her hair, “Let me just… let me just see if I follow here, Jungkook the freshman, the virgin you let finger you at the party last week, he wants you to deflower him?”

“No, he doesn’t even want sex—can you believe…! He wants me to date him, so worst.” You correct, “Fake date him to get his teammates off his back because he’s fucking twelve apparently and not immune to peer pressure.”

“And your roommate, Jimin, your gay roommate,” she emphasizes the gay part and you glare at her, “you think you’re starting to… feel things for him again?”

“I mean, technically,” you put a hand out to stop her, “the feelings never really went away, but they’ve just been lying dormant like waiting for him or myself to entertain them and Nayeon, the other day, in the cafeteria he hugged me. He back hugged me. Jimin, the same person who made a six year old cry last year, and then kicked his dad’s ass. I want to die.”

“And Hoseok,” she presses a hand to her head, “the drug dealing cheerleader. He quit.”

“He’s not a drug dealer, he just smokes a lot of weed,” you roll your eyes, “his friend, Namjoon, he’s a drug dealer. I’m gonna kick his ass because he convinced Hoseok to quit the fucking team.”

“And… you have regionals in less than a month, correct?”

“Yes. So you see my problem right?” You whine.

“You have multiple problems, most of which I can’t help you with, being in love with your gay roommate ranks at the top of that list,” she sends you a sarcastic look before snapping her fingers at you, “but the Hoseok thing. I know how you can fix that. It’ll be like killing two birds with one stone.”


“This is so… lame.” Jungkook groans and you slap him upside the head before gesturing towards the rest of the squad.

“Team, I’d like you to meet our new base.” You smile tightly before patting a hand on his shoulder, and pulling something from behind your back, “This is Jungkook.”

“What’s that for?” Momo, a second year on the team frowns and you brighten at her question, bringing the glass jar to everyone’s attention.

“This,” you begin, “is negative reinforcement. Anytime he says something rude, stupid, or offensive feel free to let me know and I’ll charge him, all proceeds go towards new uniforms for the team.”

“What happened to Hoseok?”

“Hoseok decided to focus on his studies.” You say and you barely make it through the sentence before someone’s cutting you off with a snort. “Jungkook’s going to be replacing him.”

“That’s such bullshit!” Mina scoffs, “Has he ever even cheered before?”

“No but I have more than two brain cells I’m sure I can figure it out.” Jungkook retorts and you press a hand to your aching temple, resisting the urge to argue his declaration of having even more than one struggling fucking brain cell. 

“Five dollars.” You seethe and Jungkook only challenges your stare for a moment before he’s reaching in his back pocket for his wallet, shoving a bill in. You cock a brow at him. He curses you before putting in another dollar.

“What’s going on over here?”

It’s a natural response, almost second nature by now, the goosebumps, the heat in the pit of your belly, the chill at the base of your spine. You should be a little more put out over the response Jimin evokes, even after all this time but you couldn’t force yourself to care. Instead you sigh.

“Jimin, this is Jungkook. You two have met before. He’s going to be filling in for Hoseok from here on out.” You explain and brace yourself because Jimin is a lot of things. Complacent isn’t one of them. He doesn’t settle for anything short of perfect and one look at Jungkook has him straightening his shoulders and eyeing you like he’s about to throw you out a window.

“Who says?” Jimin challenges and it’s your turn to cock a brow at him, hands planted firmly on your hips.

“Me, the captain.” You shoot back.

“Did he even audition?” Jimin retorts and you roll your eyes at him.

“Audition for what? It isn’t exactly like we have troves of fucking college kids lined up to fill the spot.” You argue.

“You’re cut.” Jimin says, ignoring you and sneering down his nose at Jungkook.

And Jungkook, for all his complaints and the bitch fit he put up the entire way you had dragged him to the field, didn’t take well to being told what to do. Especially by assholes. Correction, especially by assholes in a matching fucking tracksuit.

“Weird. My girlfriend, the captain,” cue audible gasp from over dramatic cheerleaders, “says otherwise.”

You press a hand to your forehead with a visible shudder because where did this guy find his material? So corny.

“Your girlfriend?” Jimin laughs, and turns his head to peer over at the bleachers before raising a brow at you. You squirm under his intense scrutiny, “So you’re dating the kid?”

“I mean… we’re not not dating.” You mutter and yelp when Jungkook pinches your side.

“What does that even mean?” Jimin implores.

“Like, we’re not like boyfriend and girlfriend it’s just like sometimes he waits for me outside my class and we go to see the newest movies and stuff together and maybe he’ll buy me like lunch on the way and like I don’t know kiss me or hold my hand but not like in a boyfriend way, he’s not my boyfriend.” You rush out and when you glance back up the two boys are staring at you incredulously.

“What exactly is your definition of boyfriend—anal? That sounds like maybe the only thing you haven’t done with him.” Jimin rolls his eyes at you when you slap his chest. He could at least act like it hurt.

“So anyway, let’s start practice!” You clear your throat, pushing past both of them and towards the middle of the field, “Pair up and get started on your stretches!”

Jimin and Jungkook glare at each other even after everyone begins stretching, speeding up your already impending headache.

“I don’t like you.” Jimin comments mildly.

Jungkook snorts at that.

“I’m quivering. Your tracksuit really evokes a sense of fear in a guy.” He rolls his eyes before sneering, “You look like Vector from Despicable Me.”

“Okay, that’s enough. I’ve had it with you two and your dick measuring contest.” You hiss, getting in between either of them and crossing your arms over your chest.

“Bet I’d win.” Jungkook sniffs, “Everytime.”

“Yeah?” Jimin tongues at the inside of his cheek, the way he sizes Jungkook up makes the younger boy squirm, “Wanna find out after this?”

Jungkook opens his mouth to argue before closing it again—he does this a few more times before squinting his eyes and cocking his head to the side at the older boy. “That got really gay, really fast.”

Jungkook turns to look at you, pointing a finger at Jimin before, “Is he—”

“Jar, Jungkook.” You exasperate.

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“You didn’t have to.” You hiss.

“Fine, homoerotic, is that the politically correct term?” He sighs and you clench your hands at your sides in an attempt to not strangle him.

Not in front of witness.

“Stop talking.” You put a finger up to silence him and then turn your attention to Jimin, “Let’s start practice, yeah? We can be mature about this?”

“Matures my middle name.” Jimin seethes.


As it is, mature is not Jimin’s fucking middle name, it wasn’t even his stripper name because between the jabs he had been making at Jungkook’s inability to pick up on the workouts as quickly, or the way he would send the younger boy a pointed look whenever he wasn’t as flexible as the other guys on the team you were about five minutes from strangling him.

“Why can’t I be her partner?” Jungkook argues at one point when Jimin immediately grabs your arm for stretches.

“Because you’ll fuck around and throw her back out and then I’ll kill you.” Jimin says politely before yanking you closer to him. His movement is only slightly halted when Jungkook reaches out to grab your other arm and your glancing between the two of them wildly.

“It’s not fucking rocket science I’m sure she can tell me what to do.” Jungkook scoffs, tugging on your arm.

“I’ve been her partner for three fucking years, if you want to look up someone’s skirt do it on your free time or pair up with one of the other freshman on the team, you’re wasting my time.” Jimin grits out.

“Why can’t you pair up with one of the freshman on the team, if you’re so experienced doesn’t it make sense if noona helps me instead of you? I also need some experienced help.” Jungkook enunciates.

“Fine.” Jimin says, letting go of your arm and making you stumble, he cocks a brow at Jungkook, jaw clenched, “get on your back and spread your legs I’m your new partner.”

You and Jungkook stare at each other for a beat before turning to openly gawk at Jimin, who was sporting an expression that told you he was bored with the entire conversation and had been tired of Jungkook five minutes ago.

“Take your pick,” Jimin shrugs, “it’s either one of the freshman or me. Personally, I can stretch you out real good—”

“Okay stop.” You say finally, pressing a hand to either boys chest, you level Jimin with an exasperated expression, one that he pointedly ignores before turning to Jungkook, “I’m going to partner with him today, Jungkook, the other girls are really helpful and if you have any questions you can ask me but I don’t think it’s a good idea to try and deviate from routine. Me and Jimin have been working together for a lot longer and it’ll take both of us to be able to incorporate you into the flow of things. It’s just easier this way.”

Jimin shoots the younger boy a smug look, one you want to smack off his face because despite the rush of butterflies Jimin’s current possessive nature was giving you, you knew it was only because he didn’t want Jungkook around. He didn’t want you injured because you were just a stepping stone towards his real goal which was essentially regionals. It sucked and was kind of dick-ish but you knew this about Jimin from the get go, he had never pretended otherwise or came to you under false pretenses. Jimin had a very one-tracked mind and it was currently stuck on the aforementioned competition your team faced.

“Stop it.” You sigh and Jimin raises a brow at you, “You know what you’re doing. You’re egging him on an—unf.”

You wither him with a glare when he positions you to get a better seat between your legs. “You were saying?”

You were really beginning to hate stretching. Especially with Jimin.

“You’re little games not cute and it’s making things difficult for m—shit.” You curse when he presses back on your leg until one knee was pressed against your shoulder.

“Should we work on your flexibility next?” Jimin asks and he’s obnoxiously close to you, his cool breath fanning over your face, but your focus was on his lips. Your throat goes dry when he licks them, his voice lowering an octave, “Or should we do that later? When we’re alone?”

His questions hits you like a punch to the gut and you’re suddenly choking because that almost sounded flirtatious but when you glance up to try and get a read on Jimin’s expression, he’s impassive, unfazed by his double entendre.

“W-What?” You stammer, shoving at his chest until the pressure on your leg gives. Jimin blinks at you curiously.

“We might not have enough time, we could do it at the apartment?” He offers innocently, only Jimin was about as innocent as Satan and you didn’t buy his raised eyebrows and saucer eyes.

A sigh leaves your lips as yourself down on the grass. Tired. So tired.


“Since this discussion has long since been put off,” you sigh before plopping yourself down on an available seat of grass, “I’m opening the floor. I hear that you all want new uniforms so Jimin and I have decided that we—”

“Not me,” Jimin corrects, “just her. If it were up to me you’d all be wearing trash bags to better suit your shitty performance.”

Jimin and I,” you begin again, “have decided to take suggestions and if you guys are really dead set on this then we can work on fundraising too.”

“The current uniforms are fine, the only ones who want to change it are the freshman!” Kihyun calls from the back, garnering more than a few glares and making Jimin snicker.

“They are not fine. They’re gray.” Eunha chimes in, “Like prison cells. Gray is why prisoners are unhappy.”

“Really? I always thought it was the loss of freedom and free manual labor,” Jimin snorts, ignoring when you slap his chest.

“I think new uniforms would be a good look.” Jungkook says, leaning back to inspect the back of your thighs, “I say we take the hem up an inch… or five.”

“Ten dollars.” You say without blinking and Jungkook sulks.

“What about black uniforms? It’s a flattering color! And we could go with gray for an accent so we don’t stray too far from school colors.”

“That's…” You begin hesitantly, “not a bad idea, actually.”

“Oh! Long sleeve tops! I’ve been looking them up online and they look so much more… Professional? A lot of the top schools are going for long sleeve instead of sleeveless.” Eunha offers.

“Maybe if you all started practicing like a top school, we’ll consider it.” Jimin scoffs and groans echo through out the huddle.

“Draw up a design. Get it approved by us and coach and while you’re at it, start thinking of fundraising ideas to pitch.” You say, rising to your feet and dusting the grass from your bottom, “If it’s good and everything works out maybe we’ll be able to get new uniforms before regionals.”

“Practice is over. Go home and stretch, hydrate and ice if you need to assholes, I’m tired of you coming to me with injuries that could have been avoided.” Jimin seethes and you roll your eyes because you think, for a moment, beneath all the bravado he actually gives a shit about the kids.

It isn’t until you’re hitching your gym bag up your shoulder and swapping your tennis shoes out for slippers that you feel Jungkook’s weight being pressed onto your shoulders.

“Can I help you?” You sigh, shaking off his grip and making him whine.

“What the hell was that?” He glowers, gesturing towards the field and when you stare at him blankly he elaborates, “That practice was worst than literally any training I’ve done for basketball—off season included.”

“Welcome to cheerleading, bitch.” You say, slapping him on the shoulder. You turn to leave, and press fingers to your closed eyes when your movement is halted by his grip on your wrist. “What?”

“Can you… you know… help with that thing you offered earlier?” He coughs, rubbing the back of his neck and you eye him incredulously.

“The blowjob?”

“What? No! No! I meant… the routines. It’s just… that… you know Jimin doesn’t like me too much and the stuff we were going over earlier was complicated but I can’t ask him and I don’t want to look like an idiot I just,” Jungkook sighs and it takes every bit of self control not to snap at him, even going as far as to remind yourself that he was doing you a favor. Even if it was only out of debt. He was trying to help.

Which is why you throw your bag down with an exasperated sigh and slip your shoes back on, “Let’s practice a bit then.”


Somewhere down the line you had just assumed, no, hoped that either of the boys would get used to each other. At least enough to be civil. You didn’t need them to be glued at the foreskin but you did need them to not give you a migraine whenever you were forced to be in the same room as them.

“This is shared space. That means no boyfriends after eleven o’clock,” Jimin hissed after one entire evening of Jungkook lounging on your couch, eating a bag of Cheetohs and getting crumbs everywhere. “So get whatever breed of cockroach this is, out of my living room.”

“He’s not my—”

Jungkook cuts you off with a withering glare, pausing the newest episode of Bones to speak around a mouthful of chips, “Noona, can we go over the routine again this weekend? I think I’m starting to forget. I wouldn’t want to choke on competition day. That would suck.”

His threat was so apparent that Jimin’s lips thin, making a move towards the younger boy, if it weren’t for your grip on his upper arm. “Jeon Jungkook, do you wan—”

“Let’s go to my room.” You interrupt, tugging the younger boy up by the wrist and dragging him the rest of the way.

“What was that for?” Jungkook grumbles, rubbing at his wrist as though it hurt, as if he wasn’t a whole foot taller and a person heavier than you.

“Stop pissing off my roommate.” You demand, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Oh come on! I’m not even doing anything.” Jungkook glares, “It’s not my fault he has a hard on for you!”

“Trust me when I say he doesn’t,” you snort and glare when Jungkook leans back against your headboard, completely ignoring you, “Besides, all of this was not apart of our deal. Get out of my house.”

“He totally does,” Jungkook argues, disregarding your earlier statement and making himself comfortable under your throw, “I mean, I know girls have a hard time admitting they’re wrong but trust me, you’re wrong about this one. A guy doesn’t get pissed like that unless you’re fucking with a girl he’s into.”

“A normal guy doesn’t,” you correct, “Jimin likes his space. You are intruding on that, in more than one sense.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, but I’m telling you I’m 100% right.” Jungkook shrugs, reaching over


“He’s wrong.” Nayeon sighs, head rested on her palm as you occupy the seat across from her. Cutting into important study time, again. “Well, not entirely wrong.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You crinkle your nose at her and she rolls her eyes.

“He has a hard on for someone, it’s just not you.” Nayeon whispers and your eyes widen.

“No!” You gasp.

“Yes.”

“No!”

Yes.”

“No!”

Yes!” she says, slamming her hands down on the table, and wincing when people several tables over turn to gawk. “I mean think about it. You said Jimins gay right? And that he shows no emotion save for mild disinterest where you’re concerned but suddenly Jeon Jungkook comes along and he’s irritable, territorial, emotional? Jimin is one of those guys, you know?”

“I don’t.” You shake your head, but all your attention is focused on her, you’re hanging on her every word.

“He doesn’t know how to properly express his emotions so he’s lashing out.” she explains slowly.

And it’s like everything suddenly makes sense in the universe, all the pieces click together and your heart feels as though a fat man has just situated himself on your chest. Because, did Jimin really like Jungkook? Were you really going to be forced to sit back and watch him pine for another man, again? Then there was the more jealous part of you, the ugly emotions that lurked beneath the surface that you weren’t ready to address. Thoughts like, do you lie to him? You hadn’t intended on keeping the entire Jungkook thing a secret because if you were being honest with yourself you thought Jimin might try to throw him off the nearest balcony if he knew you weren’t actually dating him. But the more you thought about it the more you wanted to keep it to yourself and it wasn’t exactly lying, was it?

“You’re making the face.” Nayeon sighs.

“What face?” You frown.

“The one you make when you’re having a heated, internal monologue over your skewed moral compass.” She explains.

“I was not…” you lie before plopping your head down in defeat.

You totally were, but Nayeon is polite enough not to call you out on it.


If you had to rank your to do list for the day, telling Jimin that you weren’t actually dating Jungkook so that your roommate who you had been openly pining for for the last three years could swoop in was ranked at the bottom. Right above dying and going to another party with Hoseok’s weird friends. Though if you were being honest with yourself, you’d take death happily at this point, it sounded a whole hell of a lot less painful. Especially when just trying to squeeze yourself into Jimin’s schedule was a pain in the ass.

If he wasn’t on campus, juggling seven classes to complete school on time he was at cheer practice, which wasn’t a prime place to tell him because Jungkook—and if he wasn’t at cheer practice he was at the gym, or asleep and you’d try waking Jimin up exactly once in your entire time knowing him and it was one too many. The guy wasn’t exactly a morning person.

So the gym it was.

“I’m surprised you actually wanted to come.” Jimin muses, fixing your posture before switching out your kettlebell for a heavier one. You try not to glare.

“I figure,” you grunt when he lets go, leaving you to manage the ten pound weight on your own, a small feat when you’ve already been there for thirty minutes and your arms felt like jelly, “you were right. I wouldn’t be a good captain if I started neglecting myself.”

“Hmm..” He hums, and pressed a hand to your exposed belly, “suck this in.”

“So I was thinking,” you pant and Jimin quirks a brow at you.

“A scary prospect.” He murmurs.

“I was thinking,” you begin again, before dropping the weight completely and turning to face him, “about me and Jungkook…. and me and you.”

“Did I say you could stop?” He implores and you roll your eyes at him before switching arms, “What do you and Jungkook have to do with you and me?”

“You’re my roommate.” You grunt, heaving up with all your might. “And you hate him.”

“You’re not wrong about either of those things,” he agrees, “but I’d like to reiterate my first question of what do either of those things have to do with each other?”

“I just…” You try to get the words out but your muscles are on fire and your chest is tight, so instead you throw the weight down with a grunt before turning to him, “Do you like Jungkook?”

“What?” He blinks at you. “You just said yourself I hated him.”

“Yes, okay I know but you know sometimes you say one thing and you mean another.” You shrug.

Jimins expression remains bland, emotionless.

“You’re asking me if I have… feelings for your boyfriend, correct? That’s what we’re getting at here?” Jimin asks bluntly and you shrink under his intense scrutiny.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you say quietly.

A long silence follows your statement, in which Jimin stares at you, just stares and you cow under his gaze because well, it’s Jimin and he’s pretty fucking intimidating. You look anywhere but at him, the airconditioner, the weights, the treadmill, all while still able to feel him boring holes into the side of your head and you wonder maybe, if you had over stepped. If you had spoken too soon because granted you and Jimin were pretty close but clearly not close enough because to this day he still never really talked about the whole liking boys things or even relationships in general. It made you wonder just how many people Jimin had dated, if he had asked them out, if he was softer, sweeter or—

“You’re really dense you know that?” Jimin shakes his head at you before walking over to the weights, leaving you there slack jawed and a little bit annoyed.

“Hey! Wait up!” You call after him, but he doesn’t, unsurprisingly. “I didn’t mean it like that I was only asking because I wanted to tell you that—”

“Did you watch that new clown movie?” Jimin asks suddenly and he nearly gives you whiplash with how quick he’s jumping topics. You open your mouth to argue, to tell him you were only asking so you could tell him you and Jungkook weren’t really dating but the glint in his eye tells you not to tread there. He’s done talking about it, and by effect so are you.

“No I haven’t.” You sigh, your body slumping in defeat.

“Good,” he grunts, pulling down on the weights before turning his attention to you. And you applaud yourself because you don’t keel over at the sight of a sweaty, sleeveless Park Jimin doing reps on the pull down machine, veins bulging and muscles flexed. He sends you a look that tells you he knows exactly what you’re thinking and makes your back straighten indignantly. “Did you hear what I just said?”

“The clown movie.” You repeat proudly, only for Jimin to roll over and flick your forehead.

“Yes genius, but after that,” he sends you a grin, one you’re not used to seeing. He’s teasing you, but it doesn’t annoy you quite as much as usual, “I said let’s go see it. I figure you owe me after that insult you pulled.”

“Wh—” Your mouth opens and the closes before pointing a finger in his direction, “I didn’t mean it like that, if you would just let me explain—”

“Well I took it that way, you’re the only one stupid enough to date that overgrown toddler. And besides, it’s a simple question. Yes or no?” He frowns and you sigh.

“I mean… I don’t really have anything else to do this weekend so..”

“Good to know I’m a last resort.” He snorts and you hide a flush because if only he knew.

And really, if you looked at the entire thing, your situation with Jimin in retrospect it was truly all your fault. Because no matter how much you claim to have both your feelings and heart in check there is no such thing as control when it comes to love. And so you get your hopes, let yourself hope for a moment, with Jungkook’s earlier words replaying like a soft lull. When really you should’ve taken the idiots advice with a grain of salt. Or just not at all.

Fears Bill Skarsgård x Reader

Requester: atliefloresdaprimavera

Prompt: Reader is Bills gf, and she’s a famous book author and she’s terrified of clowns. They both support each other and are each others biggest fans so when he tells her he got the role she swallows her fear (he knows about her phobia) and helped him prepare for the role, but she didn’t want to go to visit on set; but the kids are her fans and she went to visit them one day later he tells on interviews he was scared for their relationship because of the role.

Warning: None 

Originally posted by deathtown

Originally posted by carlaconce

You hummed as you wrote on the computer trying to figure out what to write for your new book. You at the moment we’re having the worst kind of thing an author can go through—writers block. You had tried to start a new book but it just ended up falling apart before it could even take off.

Even the best authors such as Stephen King and J.K Rowling had writers block. According to most you were considered one of those truly best selling authors but you didn’t really think of yourself as one of the best even though that was how you met your boyfriend the Bill Skarsgård.

He was one of your biggest fans and you were of him and then one day during a book signing you met and it was pretty much love at first sight. You looked up from your computer at the tv show currently playing on the TV, Supernatural. You were on the episode with Sam and the clown.

Your heart raced incredibly fast when you saw the clown and had to look back down at the computer to avoid watching. You were terrified, TERRIFIED of clowns. When you were little your older brother and his friends thought it would be a good idea to fill the cellar full of antique life size clown dolls both made for Halloween (aka motion activated) and just for decoration.

And no, they didn’t just leave you in there for a few minutes and then just let you out they left you in there all night. You had to go to therapy for 2 years just to get over not suddenly shrieking at the top of your lungs for several minutes when you saw a clown on the tv.

Even if it was a fun colorful clown with painted dimples and mouth you still had a bad breakdown. You continued to stare at your screen and try to figure out how to even start the story.

Once upon a time?

Once upon a dream? (Reference!)

So a man walks into a bar…?

You groaned and slumped down tapping your bottom lip in thought. Several minutes had passed and you still didn’t write anything down. Your prayers were sort of answered when Bill came in.

“Hey!” He called from across the condo.

“Hey honey! How was your day?” You called.

“Amazing. You won’t believe what role I got.” He replied walking into the living room.

“Ooh is it popular?” You asked picking up your mug of coffee.

“Yeah you know that movie IT? I’m playing Pennywise.”

You instantly choked on your drink coughing and hacking and placing the mug back on the coffee table to avoid dropping or spilling it. Bill rushed over gently patting your back as you wheezed and felt the rest of the coffee go down.

“What’s wrong babe?” He asked.

“You…Pennywise…”

Bill remembered your extreme clown fear and frowned, “I know your afraid of clowns so that’s why I came to you before I could accept.”

“Uh…yeah, I’m perfectly fine about it. Just don’t think about coming home dressed as a clown unless you want me to beat you to death with a bat.” You warned.

He smiled and kissed your head before saying, “Thanks baby. I love you.”

“Love you too.” You sighed.

He walked off and you continued to stare at the blinking cursor.

So far the IT remake had been in production for a month now and Bill was doing a pretty good job making sure to not act like Pennywise when he arrives home. The first time he did slip up was with his creepy laugh.

You both were putting the dishes away and talking when he did the Pennywise laugh and your glass slipped and shattered onto the counter. Bill snapped his head towards you and saw you were staring at him wide eyed and paralyzed like there was a clown right behind him.

“Sorry I…”

“No, no it’s fine. I’m fine.” You said before walking off to get the duster.
L
Ever since then he’s been extra careful not to act or talk like his character.

3 months into production he had finally been able to meet the Losers kids. He talked to them when he was out of costume and when he mentioned you all their eyes lit up in a split second.

“Your dating (Name) (Last Name)???” Jaeden (aka Bill) asked.

“Yeah you know her?” Bill said.

“I love her book Deathly Dreams.” Sophia (Beverly) said her eyes twinkling. All their eyes were as they shared what books they loved the most.

“Can you please bring her down here? My life would be complete if I got her autograph and got to talk to her.” Wyatt (Stan) pleaded.

“Pleeeaaase?” All the Losers nearly begged making puppy eyes.

Bill laughed knowing he was out matched against the seven kids (both in and out of character) and calmly said, “Alright, alright. I’ll try to get her down here.”

They cheered and Bill frowned hoping you’d be up for it. Maybe if he just tried to avoid you in costume like he did with the kids you’d be fine.

Right?

Later that night he bit his lip as he came home to find you were sitting in front of your computer typing your book.

“Hey sweetie.” He greeted kissing your head.

“Hey honey.” You replied picking your head up for a lip kiss instead.

He eagerly did and sat down next to you gently rubbing your shoulders making you look at him concerned.

“What?” Bill asked.

“Are you okay?” You asked.

“No your just looking tense.” He replied.

“Well how did filming go today?” You asked turning your head to continue to type.

“Good. I uh…talked to the kids…and they’re actually big fans of you.”

“Really?” You asked snapping your head towards him.

“Yeah. They were fangirling over you.”

“Awww that’s so sweet.” You giggled.

“Well…um…they also wanted to see you.”

Your smile faded slowly realizing why he was doing that. He wanted you to come onto the set to see the kids but…he would be in his character and…oh no.

“I mean you don’t have to we can just-”

“N-No it’s fine, I’ll go. I mean I kind of always wanted to see a movie behind the scenes with my own eyes. Maybe it’ll help me with this stupid book.” You said.

“Really?”

“Totally.”

“You sure?”

“Bill, I’ll be fine.” You assured him.

“Alright.” He sighed.

The next day you went in with him and got to meet the director Andy who was also a big fan of your books. He lead you over to where the children were for makeup and as soon as you walked in they recognized you and nearly tackled you in a hug fangirling.

“Oh my gosh your (Name) (Last Name)!” Jack (Eddie) squealed.

“Yes I am.” You smiled feeling like you were floating in space.

A famous horror movie director and 7 soon-to-be famous kids loved your books?

Who knew?!

You took selfies with them, signed their books, talked to them, until you needed to use the bathroom. Good news was you were in a warehouse so you didn’t have to do your business in the woods or in a porta potty.

Bad news was you were lost trying to find your way back from the bathroom.

You were sure you had gone too far deep into the warehouse and now were wandering around the creepy place looking everywhere. You couldn’t find anyone to ask where you were so you were alone, becoming scared, and confused.

Great.

You sighed as you continued to wander your footsteps echoing. You heard the sound of laughter and shuddered remembering that laugh. A clown’s laugh. It sounded so familiar to the one over a decade and a half ago when you were in the cellar. Your heart was racing as you tried to get away from the source of the laughs.

Fear was overtaking your mind as you hurried to find your way out looking left and right. The echoes only seemed to be getting closer but you couldn’t tell if it was you  or the thing releasing the laughter going closer.

You finally came into a room and your blood ran ice cold and your heart seemed to stop dead. Standing there was a clown. Your brain was so filled with fear that it didn’t recognize that it was Bill.

If anyone saw him really unless they knew they wouldn’t be able to recognize him underneath all the makeup. You surely didn’t. When the clown turned to face you your skin turned paper white and your breath was trapped in your throat.

“(Name)?” Bill said in his real voice.

He started walking towards you and you took several steps back before running.

“(Name)!” Bill called.

He watched as you ran as fast as you could which was faster than him.

“(Name)!” He called.

“Leave me alone!” You screamed.

You ran into a closet and slammed the door shut hyperventilating. You ran your fingers through your hair and curled up in the corner feeling incredibly dizzy and sick.

“(Name)? (Name) please, where are you?” He asked.

You weren’t able to reply back gasping too hard. It hurt to breathe. You heard the knock on the door and you shuddered, “(Name)? You in here?”

“Bill I’m so scared.” You sobbed.

“(Name), it’s just me. Okay. I’m dressed as Pennywise but I’m not going to hurt you. Okay?”

“O-o-okay.”

“Can I come in?” He asked.

“S-Sure.”

“(Name), I need a yes or a no…”

You took a deep breath before firmly replying, “Yes.”

The door opened and you squeaked and curled in on yourself. Despite this Bill walked over to you and knelt down in front of you.

“(Name), please don’t be scared. It’s me Bill.”

You slowly opened your eyes but you could still only see the clown. Your heart was pounding so fast your body had told you to get up and run but Bill was quicker and pulled you to his chest in a hug. You frantically panicked nearly hyperventilating as you tried to get away.

“(Name), it’s just me. It’s just me.” He whispered comfortingly.

He took off his silk glove and reached up to his eye before taking off one of the yellow contact lenses revealing his actual blue-green ones. You gradually relaxed and leaned onto his chest.

Under all that latex and makeup you could still smell his cologne letting you know it was indeed him. You wrapped his arms tightly around him taking slow breaths to calm yourself down.

“You okay now?” He asked after a few minutes.

You nodded and he smiled and nuzzled your forehead since he’d smear his lipstick.

“You actually helped me get over my fear of clowns.” You said softly.

He smiled and leaned down to kiss you. When he pulled away he couldn’t help but smile noticing your lips were tainted a light red. Bill placed his eye contact back on and you shuddered but otherwise didn’t run away.

“I love you.” Pennywise said softly.

“I love you too.” You giggled, “And your little clown nose too.”

“Yeah I brought my girlfriend who is like terrified of clowns to the set to ya know meet the kids and, um, she ended up getting lost and found me when I was deep in character as the clown and…yeah I scared her really badly. I thought she was going to break up with me but she didn’t…. I have the best girlfriend ever…”

Epilogue: I really liked this prompt idea cuz I’m terrified of clowns and like Bill is equal parts sexy and scary. Idk that’s just me. Thanx for reading! :3!

You’re not mine

Day 2 of lovely langst week

Lance was defective. That was the official term for people like him at least. People who could see color since birth. He never thought anything of it, his parents never made anything of it, none of his older siblings ever treated him different. He could always just see color.

Yes, he knew what it meant. He knew he didn’t have a soulmate. He was.. Fine with it. Really! He was! When he was younger it didn’t affect him. No one in his home town made fun of him- probably the looming fear of being jumped by his older siblings- and he never actually thought of it as anything but normal.

That changed around eighth grade. See someone in his grade had found their soulmate- the story goes that the two crashed into each other and color exploded in their vision and it was perfect and wonderful, and everyone in the school was talking about it. Asking the two how colors felt. Lance had congratulated them first telling them they would probably enjoy the subtle reds and blues of a sunset over the ocean- and that they should go see it together that night because it was pretty- but a girl in his class, an american exchange student, asked if he had a soulmate. He responded with no, because he didn’t. He was just born without seeing color.

“So you’re defective?” The girl sneered, her lips forming a half snarl.

Lance startled, as silence swept over the classroom. He looked over at his classmates, all of them looking away, before responding, “Defective?”

“You,” The girl spat the word with utter disgust, “Don’t have a soulmate.”

“Oh,” he muttered, the reality of the situation crashing down on him, “I guess I am defective.”

The girl turned to the rest of the class, “You know, my dad says defective people are worthless. I guess that makes Lance worthless.”

Keep reading

#sass #angst #sexy times

Prompts: @whatcould-go-wrong
Author: @queenofthyme

“Move out of my way, Potter.”

Harry stood his ground. “Your way? I didn’t realise your daddy owned the footpaths.”

Malfoy scowled. “Don’t bring my da – my father into this.”

Harry shrugged – he knew it would infuriate Malfoy. “Then don’t claim to own things that aren’t yours.”

“What do you want, Potter?” Malfoy asked, crossing his arms.

“From you?” Harry pretended to think. “Oh nothing. I’m just standing here.” He had been going for a walk of the grounds, but standing put here, irritating Malfoy, was a much better option.

“If you don’t move – “

“You’ll what?” Harry interrupted. “Calmly walk around me and get a bit of grass on your shoe? Sounds terrifying.”

“You – you can’t just stand in the middle of the footpath!” Malfoy yelled, his indignance marred by the ridiculousness of what he was saying.

“Says who?”

“Me.”

Harry smiled. This was too easy. “Ah, well we might have an issue then.”

“What?” Barked Malfoy, his impatience showing.

“I don’t take orders from you.”

Malfoy blinked, and hesitated for just a second too long. “Well, I don’t take orders from you either.”

“That remains to be seen.”

Malfoy huffed. “You expect me to walk around you.”

“Yes.”

Harry watched Malfoy eye the grass around them. It was slightly wet from the rain earlier in the morning but nothing to make a fuss about. He let out an exasperated sign and looked back up to Harry, gesturing wildly with his arms. “Why are you standing there?”

“Why are you standing there?” Harry countered.

“Because I’m trying to – merlin, Potter, fine.” Malfoy stomped around Harry and then swivelled around to face him again. “Are you happy now?”

Harry wanted to burst into laughter, but it was much more fun to remain composed – that seemed to be the easiest and most effective way of infuriating Malfoy. “Marginally.”

“And you’re just going to keep standing there now?”

Harry nodded. “For now.”

“Why?”

Harry looked Malfoy up and down, slowly. “I could ask you the same question.”

“What – oh – that’s not – I’m leaving.” Malfoy said without moving.

“Are you?” Harry asked, unable to stop his lip curing upwards. This was just too funny.

“Yes.” Malfoy didn’t move.

“Go on, then,” Harry urged.

“Fine.” He hesitated a moment longer as if waiting for Harry to say something else and then turned on the spot, beginning to stomp away.

“Wait,” Harry called out. “Stay.”

Malfoy turned back to face him immediately. “Yes?”

Harry smirked. This was child’s play. “Nothing. Just wanted to see if you’d do it.”

Malfoy’s face went bright red. “You – you  - urgh.” He threw his arms up in the air in frustration and continued his stomping.

And because Harry couldn’t help himself: “When you realise you do like taking orders, Malfoy, you know where to find me.”

Malfoy didn’t turn but Harry could tell he heard – there was a slight hesitation between stomps, the red flush spreading to the back of his neck, his fists tightening.

Only when Malfoy was out of sight, did Harry continue his own walk in the opposite direction.


“Where have you been?”

Harry looked up from his Potions textbook to find Malfoy standing over him. He’d been trying to get in a bit of quiet study in the common room before retiring for the night but now it looked like that would be impossible.

“What?”

“I’ve been waiting at your footpath for hours,” Malfoy said, clearly in a sulk over it.

My footpath?” Harry repeated. Surely he didn’t mean…

“You said I’d know where to find you,” Malfoy accused.

Harry closed his textbook with a snap. “I was sassing you, Malfoy, I didn’t actually expect – hours? Really?

Malfoy shrugged, probably realising he’d revealed too much in his anger. “Minutes, I mean. I was exaggerating.”

“Tell the truth,” Harry demanded. Did he imagine the spark of desire in Malfoy’s eyes at the order?

“Just over two hours,” Malfoy answered immediately. Obediently. Harry had mostly been joking when they’d met earlier, just trying to get a rise out of Malfoy. But if Malfoy wanted to play this game, Harry was definitely on board.

“So, you realised a few things, did you?” Harry asked.

Malfoy muttered an answer under his breath. Harry heard it but made him say it again anyway: “Louder.”

“Yes,” Malfoy all but yelled, drawing the attention of a few stragglers around the common room.

Harry kept his voice to a whisper. “What did you realise?”

“I like it when you…” Malfoy trailed off, looking around nervously.

“When I what?” Harry prompted, his eyes glued to Malfoy’s face. There was an adorable pink tint to the sharp edges of Malfoy’s cheekbones.

“When you tell me what to do,” Malfoy finished quietly.

Harry gulped. “And what do you want me to tell you to do?”

Malfoy loosened his tie. Harry’s eyes followed the movement. “You know.”

Harry laughed. As if he was going to let Malfoy get away with an answer like that.

“I’m afraid I don’t, Malfoy, so if you’re not willing to share, there’s nothing – “

“Fine,” Malfoy snapped. “I’ll tell you, but - “ he looked around again – “can we go somewhere a bit more private?”

Merlin. Harry took a deep breath, and straightened his posture, looking up at Malfoy intently. “Go to my dormroom. Strip. Leave the door unlocked.”

And now Harry was certain he wasn’t imagining it – Malfoy’s eyes lit up at the order. “But what if – “

“Do you trust me?” Harry interrupted.

Immediately: “Yes.”

Harry reopened his textbook and waved a hand dismissively. “I’ll be up in a minute.”

He watched through his peripheral vision as Malfoy practically sprinted up the stairs to his dormitory. He couldn’t help but think that he’d stumbled across a rather marvellous discovery today.

more like this l @queenofthyme

Probably one of my FAVORITE carefully worded scenes from the show:

Because you KNOW when she asks that, she’s really asking: “Are you going to insist that your husband find a way to kill and eat me? Will? William? You little shit- What do you KNOW?! Has he said something? Did you tell him I was snarky to you? Cuz I only sass back when I’m sassed upon! You started it! WILL? PlEAse AsWEr mY QuEStIOnS WiLlIAm CuZ I’vE GoT TwO LegS ThaT’s OnE exTRa LeG i DoN’T neED-!”

This show has the most precisely phrased script ever and I will fight-Kill-EAT anyone who says differently.

sans-life  asked:

headcanon of how the losers club find out eddie and richie are dating? and their reactions?

Okay so all of the losers find out about Eddie and Richie at different times. Eddie and Richie started dating mid-way through there sophomore year and decided to keep it secret because they didn’t want to deal with all the teasing they would get from there friends. 

The first to find out was Bev who was hanging out with Eddie one day in his room and when he left to go grab them some snacks she ended up finding a love letter that Richie had written to Eddie (Bev always snoops through the boys stuff because she has to “Make sure her boys aren’t hiding anything from her”) she honestly wasn’t that surprised but still decided not say anything until they decided they were ready to tell everyone.

The next to find out was Ben. The three of them were doing a History project together (everyone in class wanted Ben in there group because everyone knows how good at history he is but as Richie so beautifully put it “Best friends only bitches” and it ended up only being the three of them even though they could have five in a group) They were working in Ben’s room, well Ben was working, Eddie was trying to help, and Richie was mostly making jokes about Eddie’s mom and talking about how boring the whole project was, when after a few hours of working they ran out of glue and Ben drew the short straw so he had to run down to the store to get some more. When he got back he found Eddie straddling Richie’s waist and what looked to be two of his best friends in the middle of a very hot make out session. Ben took a few steps away from his bedroom door and yelled “Guys I’m back” the two boys ripped apart oblivious that there friend had just caught them and Ben inwardly chuckled at how disheveled and flustered his friends looked but didn’t say a word about what he had seen.

The third to find out was Mike. Mike and Eddie were hanging out at the arcade waiting for Richie to show up. They waited for thirty minuets and both knew that they would probably be waiting for another thirty more because Richie was never on time for anything in his whole life. Mike and Eddie were having a good time anyway they played a couple rounds of ski-ball then they decided to get some drinks. Mike started joking around saying something about how if Richie put half the time into getting to where he’s supposed to be as he did in making jokes about his dick that maybe he’d be here by now. Eddie chuckled at this and playfully said “Hey don’t talk about my boyfriend like that” Eddie’s smile quickly faded and Mike turned to look at him “Uh I-I mean my friend, don’t talk about my friend like that” Eddie said suddenly developing a stutter almost like Bill’s. “Yeah I know what ya meant Eds” Mike said to his smaller friend while trying to hide the smile on his face, and he did know what he meant. Mike had had his suspicions about Eddie and Richie for while and if Eddie’s quick reaction to accidentally calling Richie his boyfriend didn’t prove his suspicions then the extra long smile the two gave each other when Richie finally showed up definitely was.

The next to find out was Bill. He and Bev were studying with Eddie and Richie at his house when Eddie suddenly stood up and announced that it was getting late and he should be getting home. “B-b-but it’only s s-six” Bill said looking at his watch he knew that Eddie didn’t have to be home till 7:30. “yeah but you know how my mom gets so I’ll see you guys tomorrow” Eddie said and then glanced at Richie for longer then necessary. “ Yeah I should probably get going to” Richie said following the shorter boy to the door. “Come on Ed’s i’ll walk ya home” Richie said while giving Eddie a wink that he didn’t think his other friend’s would notice but Bill did. “D-did you see that” Bill said to Bev when Eddie and Richie closed the door. “See what” Beverly said looking up from her Algebra book for the first time. “That w-wink” “The w-wink that R-richie gave Eddie when he said he’d walk him h=home” Bill said to Ben. “Oh that yeah I uh I have no idea” Bev said without looking Bill in the eye. “Bev what do you know” “nothing” Beverly said quickly “Bev” Bill said sternly “I’m serious I know nothing about Eddie and Richie’s secret relationship that they are rudely keeping from the rest of the us” “What!!?” Bill shouted to his female friend. Bev went on to tell him that he couldn’t tell anyone and to not mention it to Eddie or Richie until they were ready to tell them themselves. After the shock of what he had found out had settled in Bill realized just how much sense the two made together and was happy that two of his best friends had found each other.

The last of the group to find out was Stan. He and the rest of the losers were at the movies was sitting in between Bill and Richie with Eddie sitting beside Richie on the very end. about halfway through the movie Stan looked over and saw Eddie and Richie holding hands. Stan looked over at his other friends to see if they were seeing what he was but all of there eyes were focused on the screen. “Y-y-you alright Ss-tan” Bill asked looking at his curly headed friend. “ Yeah I’m fine just kinda confused” he said glancing at his friends hands again. “Oh w-well I can f-fill ya in” Bill then spent the next five minutes stuttering in Stan’s ear about the movie that he really wasn’t confused about at all. Stan thought to himself how blatantly obvious it was that his two friends were secretly dating and inwardly laughed at himself for taking so long to figure it out.

A few weeks later Eddie and Richie finally decided to to tell there friends about there relationship. The losers tried to look shocked but all ended up failing miserably.