#MOTHERFUCKERS COUNTING LINES AND SYLLABLES???

[solipseismic]

"the complete lack of sources between beowulf and gawain makes it difficult to ascertain" "some posit that there is a continuous tradition between" "i would like to assert that the prosody of gawain"

JUST TELL ME IF THERE ARE MORE OR LESS MATCHED CONSONANTS IN GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT THAN THERE ARE IN BEOWULF YOU PIECE OF SHIT

[professionallydeadinside]

THERES A PART IN OUR SHOW WHERE OUR DRUMLINE SHOUTS TO KEEP TIME, SO THE SYLLABLES LINE UP WITH THE COUNTS OF REST, WHICH CAN HELP A LOT IF YOU HAVE A PHRASE. AND YOU KNOW WHAT THEY SAY??

THESE MOTHERFUCKERS SHOUT KACHOW WHEN ITS DEAD SILENT. THEYRE IN THE VERY BACK OF THE FIELD AND I CAN HEAR THEM FROM THE PIT. IT IS DEAD SILENT AND THEN THEY JUST FUCKING SCREAM KACHOW. EVERYONE CAN HEAR IT AND IT TAKES EVERYTHING OUT OF ME NOT TO START LAUGHING WHILE I PLAY

KACHOW

[slothspaghettiwrites]

damn your love, damn your lies

damn your love, damn your lies

Story Rating: Explicit, 18+ only

Kink: Masturbation - the manual stimulation of one’s genitals to achieve orgasm. It can be done with one’s own hands or with the assistance of an everyday item or sex toy.

Warnings: Dub Con (maybe noncon), body oil, dirty talk, light degradation, some minor praising, made up tiefling lore.

Relationships: Tiefling!Stephen Strange x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1215

A/N: Tiefling - a race whose human ancestors made a bargain with devils to increase their power. Inspired by this post by @cuppimagines

This work has Adult Content. By clicking “Keep Reading” you have agreed that you are over the age of 18 and are willing to view such content. My work is not to be copied or translated onto any other platform. I have discontinued my taglist - follow @slothspaghettilibrary to be notified of when I post new fics.

You checked the book one more time, the candles, the chalk, the salt. It was all in place and ready to go. Flames flickered and turned from orange to black as you started chanting. As you neared the final line of the incantation, though, a sparking orange portal appeared in the middle of your summoning circle.

“I sensed an astronomical level of stupidity radiating from this point.” Stephen announced himself in a tone dripping with disdain and exasperation, stepping out of the portal.

His gaze fell to your barely tied together robe, lingering around your naked thighs before drifting to your left where you had left the goodies for tonight's revenge. Stephen had been making your life a living hell for weeks; ignoring you for days then pouncing on you. He teased and taunted, then would run off before either of you found release. His persistence that he didn’t want to date, to even be fuck buddies, was at war with his actions as of late.

And you were sick of it.

Rejection you could handle, his hot and cold bull shit had to end. Especially after yesterday morning.

“Here, I made too much tea.”

You breezed into the inner sanctum, still dressed in your pajamas and completely unprepared for the feral growl that came from across the room. A curse exploded from your mouth as the cup crashed to the floor and you were shoved into the door. Sharp teeth and curved horns caressed your skin. Hips ground into your stomach, pushed and pushed until you were sure you’d be crushed.

“Finally ready to bone?”

Stephen growled in your ear, slapped a large hand over your mouth to shut you up, and kept grinding. It was only when you pulled at his hair, moaning into his palm, that he stopped. He flung himself across the room. A grimace settled on his face as you slumped against the fall, aching and needing release. He portaled out of the room before you could come up with some snarky response.

Motherfucker.

“No.”

Stephen sounded like he stopped breathing, like he had to force the single syllable word past his lips. He opened a portal just behind him, but when he turned, he couldn’t step through it. A smirk settled on your lips when he turned back around. You could see the rage simmering under the surface, the way his pale blue skin tinted shades darker and something flashed behind his eyes.

"So those old, boring rumors are true." you licked your lips before biting your bottom lip. "Sorcerer Supreme Strange does still commune with his dark ancestry."

"You don't-"

"Oh, I don't really care." Your robe slipped off your shoulder as you shifted. "I'm just innocently enjoying some self care with lovely aromatherapy candles… body oils to make my skin soft and… wet."

Your robe slipped from your body, billowing behind where you knelt. Stephen abruptly turned around, but you didn’t miss the noise he made. Weak and hungry in the back of his throat like a starved man. That doesn’t stop you. The small bottle of oil smelled heavenly; lusty, sensual, spicy, everything you could want. Dribbles of it fell across your chest, warming your skin slowly. You sighed and hummed, fingers dancing across your skin until it glistened in the firelight.

At the first whimper, when you pulled and plucked at your nipples until they were hard, he turned around. His chest heaved with every ragged breath he took, his hands shook by his side, and his cock tented his pants.

“I’m not very good at teasing,” You pouted, spreading your knees wider so he could see your dripping cunt. “Just always been so impatient.”

A growl ripped through the air. “You-”

“You’ve been teasing me for too long, Stephen. A girl can only take so much.”

Your finger trailed down your body, drops of oil following the same path until you circled your clit. The swollen and throbbing after weeks of denial and now this. Stephen stared at you, eyes glued to your hand as you played with yourself, worked yourself up until you were panting. His demeanour shifted subtly, the usually stoic man crouched at the edge of the circle.

“Is the game you wish to play with me, pretty girl? You think I haven’t wanted to bend you over every surface in this fucking house since you got here? See how you look stuffed with my cock?” Your eyes fluttered closed while your lips parted, a sinful groan echoing around the room. “That what you want? For me to fuck you stupid?”

“God, yes.” You moaned, adding a second finger as you swirled them around your clit.

You wanted to be stuffed so full you were gagging with it. You wanted to grab Stephen by the horns every fucking time you saw him and ride him into the motherfucking sunset. You wanted to cum.

“Let me out and I will.” He tried to bargain with you.

“I’m not stupid.” You groaned, other hand grabbing at your chest, pinching your nipple as a wave arousal and need washed over. “Beg me. Beg me to let you out, so can fuck me.”

He stared you down, blue eyes burning your flesh only taking your pleasure higher. He removed his cape, his robes falling quietly over the chalk sigil. Stephen was beautiful, toned and scarred and everything you had dreamed about. He untied his belts, but left his pants to loosely hang around his narrow waist.

“Let me out, break the fucking salt circle, and let me fuck your messy cunt. I know it feels empty right now. You haven’t put a single finger in, pretty girl. You want to be tight for me, don’t you? My big cock’s gonna wreck you, split you right in half. I want to do it, want to see you cream all over my dick until you are begging me to stop. But you have to let me out.”

Your thighs burned from kneeling for so long, but you didn’t care. Stephen was right, just like he always was, but you weren’t going to be left wanting. You moved positions, placed as much of your weight as you could onto the hand behind you. He wanted to see you cum, well he was going to have to settle for this. Your fingers moved faster, harsher, against your clit. Every beat of your pulse rippled through it. The muscles in your stomach trembled. You were right there. You threw your head back as you came, eyes squeezing shut as the euphoria washed over your body.

You collapsed backwards, body aching and tired.

“We’ll work on your begging in a second when I’m ready for another round.”

You groaned as you unfolded your legs, the jellied muscles still shaking as you stretched them out in front of you as far as they could reach. There was a small clatter, but you ignored it as you stretched your tired muscles. Weightlessness settled over you for a moment, but it didn’t last. A hand clamped around your ankle and dragged you across the floor until you were face to face with Stephen.

“Oh, we are going to work on begging, but it’s going to be you begging me to stop.”

[albatris]

what the FUCK is up my sweet perfect friends.

it's nanowrimo day 26! sorry I didn't answer any asks

today's word count is 46,471 and yeeHAW we're close to the finish line

I finally bought a new laptop today! the guy at the store was wearing a button up shirt with a picture of dogs playing poker on it and he told us he got hit by a car. he was extremely cool

anyway today's excerpt is................. unnecessarily lengthy. lmao. basically just a big ol' chunk of a scene. it's under the cut along with the rest of the update

The barricade was understandable, of course, but surely by this point March knew it was only prolonging the inevitable. Quinn was tired, and grimy, and sore, and more than a little ticked off—they did not feel like exerting the effort to drive him out. The least March could do after being such an immeasurable inconvenience was to give up and make this last part easy.

Quinn sighed and picked up the phone. They trailed a finger down the codes on the wall till they found the right one, then they dialled.

It rang just once before someone answered.

"What the fuck do you want from me?" the voice growled, equal parts fury and fear. "Just leave me alone. You got what you came for."

"Hello to you too," Quinn said, voice slipping effortlessly into sickly-sweet cheeriness. "By process of elimination, I assume this is Reuben March?"

The speaker breathed in, and out, heavily. "You're Quinn Cooper, then?"

"Ah, so you've heard of me," Quinn said. "That certainly makes my job easier. Now, I don't suppose I can convince you to open up this door, hm? It'd save us both a lot of hassle."

"You can't get in here," March said. He spoke with what Quinn assumed was meant to be confidence, but the tremor in his voice revealed his words as nothing more than a desperate attempt to reassure himself. "I don't know how you turned off the lights, but—"

Quinn let out a delighted laugh, and twisted the phone's cord playfully. Maybe this conversation would be fun, after all.

"Oh, I haven't turned off any of these lights," they said. "I actually find them quite pleasant. They bring a certain ambience, don't they? You must tell me how you made them before I cut open your throat."

"You're—you're bluffing," March said. "You couldn't get through them. There's no way. They would have completely incapacitated you."

"You poor, sweet thing. I'm afraid someone on your team has made a tragic miscalculation."

"We had everything mapped out perfectly," March insisted, but the anxiety in his voice continued climbing and climbing. Quinn adored every syllable. "No gaps. No weak points," he went on. "The system is infallible. You're bluffing."

"Yes, I'd imagine you didn't cut any corners," Quinn agreed. "You have to be so careful when you're dealing with vampires, don't you?"

Silence. They couldn't see March's face, but they didn't need to. They knew the pieces were sinking into place. They knew the realisation was about to click. They could feel it through the phone line, singing like static. That perfect, delicious instant before all March's rising apprehension and fear broke into sheer terror.

"Motherfucker," March breathed. "You're human."

"Ding-ding-ding! There we go!" Quinn beamed. "Without those lights to worry about, it's not so hard to weasel your way in if you're as resourceful and talented as I am. And as handy with a knife."

"How did you—you let him out. You're human." March fumbled pathetically with his words. "He was completely feral. He was starving. How did he not kill you?"

"Who, Nat?" Quinn asked. "He tried to. Then I told him I'd rather he didn't, so he didn't. He's not an animal, you know."

"The—the people out there," March said. "Did he..."

"The distractions?" Quinn clarified, judgment oozing from their voice. "Those tasty little sacrifices you thought would subdue him? All safe and sound. He's a good kid. Waits when I tell him to."

March was quiet for a long time. Inhale. Exhale. Quinn was surprised he hadn't dropped his phone yet, given how sweaty and shaky he sounded.

"Then... my... my guards," he said finally.

"Right. Yes." Quinn sucked in a breath through their teeth. "I was going to tell him to hold off on eating those, too, but I was watching a cat video on my phone. One of those ones where they get the claws stuck in the screen door? Super cute. Didn't even notice the screaming till it was over."

Another pause. Exhausted. Defeated.

"I'm not opening this door," March said again.

"Okay," Quinn said. "I have ways to deal with that."

"I won't come after you, you know. If you just leave."

"God, you're boring." Quinn tapped their foot, amused. "Tell you what. I'll get out of your hair, but you've got to indulge me first. I haven't even seen you in action yet, all holed away up here like a frightened mouse. What do you say, March? You up for a little game?"

"No," he said. "No, I'm staying here. You can't touch me. That thing can't touch me."

"That thing is waiting patiently for me in the foyer downstairs," Quinn replied. "It's just you and me now. Nice even playing field."

"Whatever this is, I'm—I'm not participating. I'm not playing."

"That's adorable," Quinn said, then let every last drop of good-natured cheer drain from their voice. "But you don't have a choice."

quinn getting a little too into intimidating the shit out of people: an ongoing saga

their narration through this whole ordeal is like "oh what a fucking hassle, this whole day has been just one inconvenience after another, ugh" but they are fucking seething with rage lmao

anyway soz for long excerpt and lots of dumbass dialogue without much action. I can make this part like half the length probably but whatever. ur getting it all today bc it's NaNo and rambling segments of story are not only allowed but entirely encouraged. yeet.

today's mood is questionable prawn cold rolls, and today's jam is "the best ever death metal band in denton" by the mountain goats

g'night. I have so much to do tomorrow

[ladyideal]

The Faceless Shadow: I

Word Count: 2073

Warnings: spoilers of s1 finale, mention of rape, mention of murder, Billy Butcher, language, alcohol

Summary: Five years later, you enjoy life after years of hardwork bringing NYC under one rule.

A/n: yeah... let's just yeah.

Five Years Later

$1.50

You frowned at the prices of the last stack of newspaper in front of the glass window. Billy Butcher's face smirking up at you from the front cover aggravated you. Sure it'd been some time since the Mallory incident, but you'd lost men to Lamplighter when Frenchie left his post. Begrudgingly, you threw in the needed money and snatched the old, wrinkly paper out of its casing.

Using people was what he enjoyed doing, and what he would continue doing in his quest for vengeance. Losing an associate was pitiful, but to one of your made men? There wasn't going to be a second chance. Zero wasn't happy, and you certainly were ticked off at the past still. Tucking the newspaper clip into your jacket, you headed back to the club. 

Ten fronts. All ranging from clubs to restaurants. Mostly legitimate, in terms of paying taxes. New York City was divided into Staten Island, Queens, Manhattan, Bronx, and Brooklyn. Zero headed Queens, and your third took over Staten Island. Although your main headquarters was situated in Brooklyn, you enjoyed the sights and the skyscrapers of Manhattan.

Including Vought Tower.

Vought. The head of supes and all things capitalism. The main reason why you kept all business on the very down low, despite the very club that even some of The Seven visited regularly. Blackmail: A very old fashioned, but reliable form of silence. 

Rounding a few corners, you slowed to a halt in front of the vip line. The DJ was in by now, and the lines outside grew by the minute as the sun dipped below the horizon. Two bouncers in black stood outside, flanking both sides of the entrance and refusing bribes for those wanting to enter early. The Vortex was a popular club, and business was booming. Noticing you, the two bouncers stepped aside. And with a polite nod, you entered the club, much to the dismay and protests from behind.

Music pulsate as lights from the dance floor shined and glittered within the dark. The DJ was in, and every body cheered. Rounded tables littered around the edges with plenty of people of all ages, drinking, grinding on one another, and flirting with the multitude of waitresses and sex workers. Smoking was prohibited within, but all was allowed on the outdoor spaces filled with recliners, a pool, and a jacuzzi. 

Ignoring the cat calls thrown your way from those relaxing in the lounges, you headed deeper within the nightclub. Taking a few turns into a less populated section and nodding again at the bouncers standing guard at the bottom of the VIP stairs, you headed up. At the landing, all eyes nervously turned to you.

And rightly so. 

Most knew you were high up in the family. You've made it that way for a reason. The less people knew, the better. Very few people knew who you truly were. With a quick wave, a smile, and a polite hello, you ducked onto another flight of stairs towards your office. 

"Oi, dick face, what are you looking at them for?" Came from behind. Last you knew before you closed the door, was the sound of a brawl. Sighing, you plopped into your office chair and-

"Boss, I've got the year's expenses on your desk." Grace spoke from the speakerphone, effectively shattering your peace. 

"Thanks Grace," You mumbled, pushing the stack of documents to the side. All you wanted was to grab a drink, keep an eye on the offshore accounts, and call it a night. Definitely didn't want a headache with the financial advisor on how to keep your fronts legit. Taxes could go fuck themselves, if you had a say in it. "I'll take a look at them later. Just log it in for next year's tax season."

"Oh and one more thing."

"Yeah?" You reached down into your mini fridge for a beer.

"Well- it's." A nervous pause. "There's someone on the line asking for you." Another pause. 

"Who is it?" You asked, popping the cap off and leaning back into your chair.

"Butcher."

There was a long pause of silence as you tumbled the name on your lips. It had been years since you last saw him, much less even contacted. Ever since the Mallory incident, you immediately cut ties with the former SAS Special Force. Two of your men were burned by Lamplighter, and you haven't quite forgiven him.

"No. Tell him I'm busy. I don't want to speak with him. He can go find help elsewhere."

"He insisted."

Unfurling the newspaper from within your jacket, you laid it out on your desk, frowning down at the same man that wanted to speak with you. The small picture of Butcher himself scowled up at you on the front page, making headlines for brutally murdering Vought's VP. You sighed.

"I'm sorry, I tried. But he's a-" A nervous chuckle. "He's a weasel."

You waved the apology away. "Put him through. We'll talk about this later."

An audible gulp. "He's on line 2 whenever you're ready."

Green light above Line 2 flashed steadily on your landline. Rather reluctantly, you leaned forward and plucked the landline phone up, already regretting giving Butcher your office number. Leaning back once more, you dimmed the lights down and closed your eyes. "We agreed to never contact again."

"Hello love." A familiar voice spoke loudly against the backdrop of New York traffic. 

"No. Whatever the hell you have planned, I don't want part of it. Things are finally looking up, and I'm not going to fuck up this chance. Vought's stocks are booming. I'm making money, don't have to worry constantly on anyone placing a hit on me. Zero is having the time of their life. I'm out of that mercenary life, found a different calling. "

An annoyed sigh. "How is Zero?"

"Married with their husband. Life is good," You shrugged. "If you've got nothing else to say, then I'm heading off to finish this fucking beer. Goodbye Butcher."

"Give me one fucking minute, love. I'll explain everything."

Got nothing to lose. "Forty five seconds and counting."

"Becca. I found Becca. Me wife has a son, Homelander's son. The cunt fucking raped my wife, fucking hid her away for so long. I was there. I saw her. Green lawn. White picket. I can find her with your help. You, mate, as a person of your skills." A pause. "Sitting behind a desk. Wasted."

"Look what Lamplighter did. Burned two of my men. Burned Mallory's grandchildren. Nothing to bring back home, not even their teeths," You hissed, slamming the beer onto the office table. Bubbles sloshed down the bottle, pooled, and dripped down onto the carpet. "It has always been about Becca with you. Becca this, Becca that. No, Butcher. Screwed up that one chance. I'm not doing it. You just don't care. You use your friends, then throw them to the side like fucking garbage when you're done."

"It'll be different this go. None of that "secrets and lies" bollocks. And that Mallory shit ain't gonna happen this time. I swear to God."

Drip. Drip.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, hating every syllable the man on the other line breathed out. With a shake of your head, you sighed, reigning in your anger and pulling out a cabinet for paper towels. "Alright, motherfucker. What did you do? The cameras at the club picked you up."

"We just dusted a supe." Butcher smugly spoke, confidence oozing through the line. 

"Bullshit."

"Translucent." 

That cheeky bastard. "How the fuck did you do it?"

"Well. Big lump of C-4, packed right up his fudger. Boom," He was excited. "Boom. Claret everywhere. Fucking diabolical."

"But…?" You cut into his amazement. 

"He coughed up a solid lead. Spilled the beans in a big way. Now, we play this right, we could shake up the whole hornets' nest, bring down Seven and Vought at the same time. Y/N, you are the only one I can trust."

You raised an eyebrow at the mention of your name, dance so delicately on his tongue. It was as if the man was putting you on a pedestal. "Names are powerful, Butcher. You know this. However, since when have you ever trusted anybody?"

There was a sly pause on the other end. 

Fights were less often nowadays. Since the fall of the fifth family of New York, there was no need for the heightened anxiety to be on the lookout. Nowadays with your tight grip, it was just petty gangsters that riddle the streets, pretending to be big and bad. Some killed, robbed, or graffitied, all in the name of trying to impress you. No action, no thrilling action that needed your every second of attention. 

And if you were going to be honest with yourself, you missed the action, the absolute adrenaline pumping thrill of physically working towards a common goal. There was a camaraderie in that sense, where no place else could ever replicate, but neck deep in shit.

"Oh, fuck me," You mumbled in defeat. 

Eats Everything: @asraime @aspiring-ginger @mournthewicked @bluesclues-1234 @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @groovyfluxie @keijibum @also-fangirlinsweden @mysoulshideaway @fandom-imagination-ss @your-sparklywinnercollection @yakuzussian-2nd @supergeekfangirl @mayday1284 @sayanythingcreations

Karl Urban: @fandomsfeelsandfamily @justa-traaash @yueci @writerdee1701 @hlabounty96 @lacychick

The Boys: @space-cowboy2227

[dullwriting]

|| pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader

|| warnings: angst I guess? | so cliché | written by a non-native | a lot of swearing

|| word count: 1.975

|| summary: You seduce influential men for a living, the job being too much for you initially, because it usually ends in their killing, but the money you make, let’s say, helps your conscience. That is until it’s time to give up your current target - Thomas Shelby, the poor motherfucker and yeah ...I’ll say it... love of your life.

If someone were to call me a whore, I’d thank him.

My profession was far more irreverent than that, not leaving room for doubts or a healthy conscience. Healthy was my body however, as the amount of men I slept with was manageable.

I was far worse than a whore, because a whore’s intentions are clear as day.

She gets paid by a client, who – mostly – knows what he wants, they perform the act, he leaves, full stop. The service simply consists of sweaty skins rubbing against each other, a visceral dance being performed, the communication reduced to muscle contraction and crude sounds leaving parted lips. The one and only purpose being ejaculation, one’s body just a means to an end.

My service was a different one.

“Everyone’s a whore, Grace, we just sell different parts of ourselves.” A statement once made by my current target, victim or however you prefer to call it, meant solely for the ears of his blonde Irish barmaid.

That was the particular day, I realised, I was worse.

Far worse than everyone for there was hardly a part of me I didn’t sell to the person my clients wanted dead.

Paid I was not by simple working men who craved some sort of release or stress relief nor horny upper class arseholes who were bored shitless at home while also thirsting for power over yet another poor soul. Clients of mine, they desire quiet similar things but on a much bigger scale, outside the four walls of damp rooms filled with grunts and moans and vulgarity.

Priests worse than the devil they point at, politicians worse than the - I quote - “scum that votes for them”. To eliminate their competition, I shall seduce party leaders or gang leaders or bloody royals, anyone with too much influence for some other influential bastard’s liking. Make sure to involve feelings, in order to make their target emotionally vulnerable so they make mistakes and take risks and bullets for someone who doesn’t even care for them.

Let me rephrase that. Someone who shouldn’t care.

My first targets I indeed treated with cold professionalism, barely ready – but still ready to feed them to those sharks. My first two times, I actually witnessed the job being done, hiding behind doors or brickwork, apparently more involved than I told myself after all, drowning my guilty conscience afterwards in expensive booze, the most expensive they could offer, to remind myself what I was suffering for.

The money I earned was indeed more a regular whore could ever ask for, but at what cost?

The muffled gun shot I heard from afar the first time made my throat close up for real and for a solid two minutes I thought I was suffocating, wondering what the fuck they put in my tea and how naive I’d been to believe my client would let me live after being informed of his plans. Eventually I realised it was my own weakness strangling me which force I underestimated. Life’s little ironies.

The next stimulus that caused the contents of my stomach to rise up to my again closed throat was a thud behind closed doors which gave me a good enough picture of my target’s limp body colliding with the ground. He had proposed to me beforehand. I looked down a bridge that night.

After that I never again mustered up the sufficient amount of courage to attend the inevitable killings after a job well done. There was no third time. It made all the difference.

That had been the case until the gravelly voice on the other end of the line breathed out the two words I feared the most, ever since I cried into the sheets of my first and probably last target I not only pitied but loved. “It’s time.”

“No!”, I screamed at the device, before I could detain it. Fuck. They knew now. They knew I fell in love with Thomas Shelby and now refused to give him up. They knew they had to kill me for I was too much of a menace. The deafening sound of a disconnected line brought me back to reality. I tossed those bloody high heels to the side while sprinting down the street, barefoot, my delicate skin rubbing against the material closest to my personality: the stinking horse shit of Small Heath.

“You’ve saved me.” were the words Thomas had mumbled into my chest tightening with sadness and regret at three o’clock in the morning after I’d comforted him once again, reassuring him that the terrible screams and shots and shovels weren’t real, his subconscious still trying to process war.

“You’ve betrayed me.” were the words Thomas choked out as soon as I barged into his office, out of breath, wet cheeks and horse shit stuck to my soles. Of course he found out before I could save him. He was Thomas Shelby after all and my client just a criminal bakery owner, an amateur in comparison.

“Yes, Thomas.” was my short answer while glaring at the ground. It was spinning.

At any moment I’d throw up.

What was I to reply instead? “No, Tommy, not yet. In fact, I was about to tell you.” That he wouldn’t quite believe. “Tommy, I’m sorry.” That he would laugh or scoff at. “Tommy, I love you. More than anything in this world.” That statement would be either followed by an outburst or an unbearable silence, judgemental and heavy.

For a split second his eyebrows rose up in something I identified as surprise, then he composed himself again. His cold and distant expression however couldn’t hide the hurt I spotted in his glassy blue eyes. Just then I registered my own eyes stinging as tears were uncontrollably streaming down my pale cheeks. I made no sound, just stared at him, silently crying.

“Shoot me, Thomas”, I ordered, voice surprisingly steady. The crease between his eyebrows reappeared on his smooth skin, I so longed to caress one last time.

“What?”, he blurted out. I took a deep breath, exhaling shakily as my eyes darted to the presumably loaded weapon sitting atop some papers wildly scattered across his desk. This was it, then.

“Just get it over with!”, was what I wanted to shout at him. My emotions got the best of me, however. “I know, I’m in no position to make demands, but do me that favour, Tommy. It’s the best option for me.”, I ended up saying instead.

Curiosity washed over his face. He was no longer trying to hide his own emotions, serving as a cue for me. I owed him an explanation, at least that. “The other options, you ask? Being killed by that Jewish bastard for betraying him. I refused to give you up this morning, he probably already sensed my true feelings for you long before, that’s why he accelerated the process. That or the worst option. You killing him first, leaving me to live without you but with that crushing guilt. I’d have to end it myself eventually. You know me well enough, Thomas. I don’t have the courage to commit suicide. The parts I sold were all true in the end. That is how much I love you.”

He didn’t respond, didn’t need to. The grip around the gun he had picked up during my confession weakened, his hand visibly shaking. I was smarter than to act upon the sudden hope flooding my chest, trying hard to ignore it.

“In the bleak midwinter-“, I started then, interrupted by the loud clattering of steel against hollow wood. He let go off the weapon, the blue of his eyes now surrounded by a reddish rim. My lids immediately shielded my burning eyes from the scenario before me, my heart too broken to witness Tommy crying, not over me, not now.

Looking away, not seeing the consequences, that makes all the difference. All the difference.

How wrong I was. Hearing his voice, laced with sadness, barely above a whisper, that made it even worse. “Shut up!”, I hollered through my sobs.

“Actually-“

I opened my eyes again, seeing how it was of no use, nervously running a hand through my hair. “Please, shut up, Tommy! Don’t make this worse! For Christ’s sake, just shoot me! Fucking get it over with already!”

I didn’t notice the door handle being pushed down behind me, someone entering the room while I screamed at him in between pathetic sobs, fighting for breath afterwards, the oxygen not wanting to reach my burning lungs. Once again, I was suffocating, grabbing my throat with numb hands, panic and adrenaline rushing through my increasingly weaker body. As soon as I felt a pressure on my shoulder, I sank to my knees, coughing and choking violently. Somewhere in the distance I heard Polly’s voice, filling the room with curse words and instructions. The last thing I heard.

Countless voices overlapping, chairs screeching and the sound of heels clicking made me realise how busy hell was and how there was no light at all, just noise and heat nagging at my back pressed against a rather soft surface. That was until a searing pain shot through my head as a wave of harsh, glaring light flooded my blurry vision I recovered all of a sudden.

I moaned at the sensation, causing the noise to die down for a second. “She’s back!”, someone announced surprisingly thrilled and it took me a solid thirty seconds to recognise the voice that belonged to none other than Arthur Shelby.

Hell would’ve been busier and too good to be true.

“You had a panic attack.” “You fainted, love”, Polly and Ada exclaimed in unison before I realised that I was staring at them, a bewildered frown plastered on my face.

“Tom?”, was the only syllable I managed to croak out before a painful coughing fit disrupted me. Probably for the better. To my right I heard an all too familiar voice mumbling my name, my head snapped into his direction.

“Why-“ I cleared my throat. “Why am I still alive?” The question seemed to amuse and sadden him all at once as the corner of his mouth twitched upwards, yet it never reached his eyes.

“I knew”, he finally spoke up. “I knew it all, just waited until you’d tell me. Alfie should’ve made a bigger effort, dealing with the Peaky Blinders, with me of all people, therefore I knew. Also, I knew that you actually loved me.” I gulped, feeling my lips tremble as I was close to crying again.

“You talk in your sleep. You also talk to Polly, about me among other things and Polly obviously talks to me and, you know, she’s never wrong.” That earned a satisfied grunt and a breathy chuckle from the rest of the Blinders.

“I- I don’t understand”, I finally confessed, looking up at him through my lashes. “You were about to shoot me for treason, weren’t you?” That made him look down and my stomach drop. I’d never learn, would I? Let that bloody hope and bloody hormones cloud my judgement every time. He’d have pulled the trigger eventually, if it wasn’t for me fainting.

“Actually, no. After I was informed of your client’s instructions I lost my patience. The gun wasn’t loaded, I just wanted to point it at your head to get you to finally confess, to teach you a lesson, whatever.” A long sigh left his lips.

“Somehow I couldn’t even get myself to point an unloaded weapon into your direction, that’s how much I love you.” I shivered at his choice of words, the last part of the sentence sounding awfully familiar.

“If it’s not you who kills me, it’s him. You’re not the only one I deceived”, I insisted.

“A dead man can hardly harm you”, he chuckled in response.

[jimlingss]

Chess of Ice

Read the Sequel

Read the Final Instalment 

➜ Words: 13.5k

➜ Genres: Fluff, Sports!AU

➜ Summary: Jeon Jungkook is a rising star, aka. hockey captain of a team heading for the Olympics. The last thing he expects is to begin a whole ‘nother sport, holding a broomstick in his hand, sweeping the ice and throwing dumb stones towards a target. As if that wasn’t bad enough, his love life is about to turn into a game of chess as well....and you’re his opponent.

➜ Warnings: Swearing.

➜ Notes: I’ve always wanted to write a sports!au, so here we go!

The cheers from the stands keep him going.   The roars pierce through his muffled hearing, the audience going wild as he glides past. He can’t feel anything, not his fingers or the tip of his nose. Sweat drips from his skin, dousing his jersey as he pushes his left foot back zigzagging faster and faster without friction. He keeps his knees bent, alternating his strides and slipping right through his opponents. The adrenaline pulsates through his veins and he keeps steady. It feels like he’s floating.   Jungkook lives for this.   His breath halts. The puck comes into sight, skimming right in front of him like the stars aligning. The corner of his mouth tugs, and he swings back his hand, gripping the stick tightly...and before his opponents can even blink, Jungkook shoots.   The crowd goes absolutely berserk, immediately standing from their spots, howling into the arena.   And from the movement, shoving his body forward for the shot, Jungkook collides and falls.   His teammates are cheering, roaring out as they launch on each other in bear hugs. There are applauses and screams coming from all directions and Jungkook rolls on his back, vision blinded by the sparkling fluorescent lights, and he giggles in pure, unadulterated joy.   This is the place where he was born and raised.   This is the place where he thrives.   Jeon Jungkook lives and breathes to be on the ice.   But as one of his teammates drags his lifeless body upwards to embrace the boy who brought them victory, his left ankle thumps...thumps...thumps...and yet, he can’t seem to care.   //   “Well, you should care.” Doctor Shin rolls forward on her office chair. “You tore a ligament.”   His teammates are just outside this room, making a huge ruckus in the hospital hallway. Jungkook is buzzing with excitement, unable to wait for the celebration. Coach already promised to pay for drinks and all the guys already made a vow to get shit-faced—   “Ow!” He winces when the doctor presses on a certain spot and she mumbles before putting his swollen ankle down while throwing in an apology and moving to take a look at the x-ray again. It’s the size of a baseball now, looking like a nasty boil hanging off of his leg, still being iced to prevent it from getting as large as a football.   “How long is it going to take to heal, doc?” Coach Kang plops down in the chair next to the upright hospital bed. “We gotta start training for the next championships soon. At this rate, we might make it to the Olympics any day now. There’s no time to waste.”   “Already?” Jungkook chides, pretending to roll his eyes. “Shouldn’t we at least take a break?”   His coach laughs heartily. “There are no breaks for winners.”   But the doctor is not amused. She rolls her chair until she faces him again. “You sprained it yesterday, didn’t you, Jungkook?”   “Uhhhh…….”   “It’s been hurting for a while, hasn’t it?” She hits bullseye with a simple question and his coach turns to him in surprise. Jungkook grits his teeth, not wanting to admit that he had actually sprained his ankle yesterday on a last practice run and purposely didn’t say anything. He endured the pain to play the game. He couldn’t afford to be taken off last minute for a stupid injury. Everyone counted on him. “It’s a miracle you made it so long. The adrenaline rush must’ve done wonders if you weren’t screaming every step you took.”   “How long is it going to take to heal?” Jungkook repeats in a quieter volume, looking up past his still damp bangs. Suddenly, his palms feel sweaty and he’s more nervous than he was a few hours ago.   “Well, you tore a ligament. You completely tore it. It’s ruptured,” Doctor Shin sighs. It’s much more serious than he thought it was. “It’s severe. And my guess….it’ll take around twelve weeks to heal.”   “Twelve weeks?!” Jungkook sits up straighter, nearly launching off the bed and when his ankle shifts, he holds back a shout, flinching hard instead. “I can’t go that long!”   His coach puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. “You’ll be up before you know it, Kook.”   “You’ll need rehabilitation,” the doctor continues, “but by the looks of it, you have a more than high probability of being able to walk again.”   “Wait….what?” He blinks, wholly confused. “Walk?”   The doctor looks at him, an emotion of sympathy he does not want. Every word that is carefully spoken, hesitant, “Jungkook. You won’t be able to—”   White noise.   All he hears is white noise.   And just like that, the career that never even began is broken in shambles.   //   The door slides open, room deathly silent. His teammates came to visit for the past two weeks, trying to cheer up the somber mood with their boisterous laughter but like anyone else who had a life outside the white walls, they slowly but surely stopped coming. Now only his parents and older brother dropped by every other day; a sign of their presence by the flowers on the stand withering in the vase.   The sunlight pouring in from the glass window is blinding and Jungkook keeps staring at it even when it burns his eye sockets. It’s better than glancing down to see his ankle still wrapped up like a Christmas gift. He feels sick every time he even steals a glimpse of it.   His coach stands at the end of the bed, watching the star player who fell from his place. He can feel the waves of disappointment come off of the older man and he holds himself back from crying, the underneath of his eyes already reddened and swollen from sobbing so much.   “Jungkook.”   “I don’t want to talk about it.”   “I know, sport.” He takes a seat on the edge of the mattress and there’s an extended moment of peaceful silence. The dust particles drift in the air in sunlight beams, the clock handles moving without a tick-tock-tick-tock rhythm.   “You’re good, Jungkook.” For a man who used to scream from the stands, command every player with strict rules, he sounds too soft and gentle. Jungkook doesn’t like it. “You’re really good at everything you do. You have exceptional abilities in whatever you try. You’re a fast learner. I’ve been your coach for the past seven years, so trust me when I say that.”   He continues and Jungkook turns his head away, trying to ignore the older. But the two of them know he’s still listening, hanging on to every word and syllable like it’s his life jacket. “This isn't the end. There are a lot more things you can do.”   “Then tell me…..” His voice is broken. “What should I do?”   He is desperately pleading.   Jungkook is lost.   “Don’t let the public forget your name.” His coach’s eyes are blazing, but instead of the thirst to win, it’s full of hope of a limitless future. “Don’t lose your sponsors. You’re still the star. Everyone loves you. They still go wild when someone says your name.”   “And how am I supposed to not let them forget me?”   The older man softly smiles. “There are a lot more sports out there, Jungkook.”

Music plays in the background, not booming but loud enough to fill the small arena. The cold air wafts in the atmosphere, icy breeze deepening his cheeks to rosy hue. The ice rink has a smooth surface, yet to be marred by blades lacing patterns made by skates. But here, the glossy layer might never be embroidered with designs.

  It’s unfamiliar to him. There are lines drawn on the ice, marking every lane and at the end, there are targets. He stays seated, quietly observing and observing….   “Harder! Harder!” A girl with a black bob haircut is shrieking at another person. “Harder, you motherfucker! Is that all you can do?! Harder!”   Yeah…   Jungkook will never get used to this.   “Hurry hard,” she continues. “Yup. Woah! Woah! WOAH!”   The stone finally stops sliding on the ice. It stops right outside the last ring of the target and the person at the end of the rink goes pale. The girl throws up her arms, groaning and yelling, “are you fucking deaf?! Did you not hear what I said?! You screwed it up, you stupid fuck!”   “Yoonji!” The female coach spins around in absolute horror. “Language! What did we talk about?”   The short girl with all too much sass scoffs openly. “I’m sorry I play with idiots!”   “Don’t make me bench you,” the coach is unyielding, stubborn as well and she speaks her threat in a menacing, lower tone.   The girl with the bob-cut narrows her eyes. “You wouldn’t…”   The coach crosses her arms. “Apologize!”   This is stupid as fuck.   Jungkook doesn’t know what he’s doing here, wasting away his time, his talents and gifts. All the members are so hardcore over such a dumb sport, screaming and yelling at each other. A sport that requires no brain cell use. A sport meant for janitors. It’s boring. It’s absurd.   “Alright team, gather up! We have a few new recruits that are joining our team this season.” The male coach claps his hands together and the others put away their equipment, slowly making their way over. Jungkook is at the ledge, starting a second too long at the ice that’s a few inches away. But he’s soon distracted by the handful of girls in the back who are murmuring and giggling to each other, taking one too many glances at him.   “Everyone give a warm welcome to the new rookies of our Curling Team!” There’s a warm applause and he continues, “I am Coach Kim Namjoon, but you can just call me Namjoon and my vice here is…”   “I’m Adora.” The female coach smiles, brown ponytail swinging when she turns to each new recruit. “I run the women’s curling team while Namjoon runs the men’s. But we often work together so there’s no real distinction.”   One by one, the new individuals introduce themselves. Alongside Jungkook is a mom whose kids have gone off to college, an older gentleman who’s soon to retire and another woman who’s in her mid-thirties, a professional who’s looking for another hobby. Jungkook notices he’s one of the younger individuals on the team. As he scans the group, someone catches his eye—   “And this is Jeon Jungkook.” A hand slaps his back suddenly and he flinches, startled. “I know what you’re thinking and yes, we finally poached the best hockey player for our team!”   He awkwardly smiles. “Hello.”   Namjoon has a dimple pressing into each side of his cheek, and he nods, fluffy blonde strands bobbing up and down with the movement. “He’s been playing for a few months now and has quite a knack for it. Everyone give him a warm welcome.”   There are more applauses and as the introduction is complete, females and males alike begin to bombard the poor boy. “Are you really the Jeon Jungkook?!” The crowd gathers, soft smiles and eager eyes, unable to believe that he’s gracing them with his mere presence. His introverted nature makes him take a step back and he laughs in a tense manner.   “You were the captain of the hockey team, right?! You were number ninety-seven, right?!”   His neck knocks downwards in a single nod. “Y-yeah…”   “Oh my god.” Their eyes are sparkling in admiration and he’s taken back, a bit overwhelmed with their energy. “Can I get your autograph?” — “Can you sign my hockey jersey?” — “Ooh, me too!” — “Can I please take a selfie with me?” — “Is it alright if I take a picture of you? — “You should add me on instagram!”   He’s swamped by his own fans, trying his best to fulfill each of their wishes and show his own appreciation for their kindness. But by the time the coaches peel people off of him and tell them to get lost, he’s finally able to catch his breath.   The two coaches give the four new recruits a few run downs, reviewing the basics to make sure everyone’s on the same playing field and know what’s going on. It’s not hard to grasp and with time, understanding only deepens. Compared to hockey, Jungkook almost finds the change in difficulty insulting to his intelligence. Yet, before he leaves the arena for the day, he decides to check out the locker room. After all, this is what he’ll be doing for the next little while.   He might as well become acquainted with the place.   But before he can even make it to the men’s locker room, his arm is pulled and in the blink of an eye, he’s being roughly shoved against the wall….   By the same girl who was screaming earlier.   “Uhhh…”   “I know who you are, Jeon Jungkook.” The girl grips his white tee tight in her fists, permanently wrinkling the fabric. Her black bob and bangs brushes against his skin from how close she’s standing and he visibly gulps. She hisses at him, “And I know what you think.”   His rounded doe eyes stare back like a deer in headlights. “Who are you?”   She ignores him. The girl is much shorter than he is, probably around four feet eleven inches but she’s fearsome. Her pointed glare is beyond intimidating and his knees quake, feeling an instinct to bow down. Jungkook wets himself a little. “You think this game is fucking dumb. You think this is some kind of joke, sitting on your high horse and looking down on us. I know your type. You’re just an arrogant, cocky asshole. I know when I see it. But if you sabotage any of us….I swear to god, I will rip your head straight off your neck. You better watch—”   “Yoonji.” The girl is interrupted by a soft, sweet voice. It’s a vivid contrast to the venom that was just being spat on him and his ears perk at the melodic timbre. Both necks whip over to another head that’s peering from the corner of the entryway. You blink twice, never once sparing a single glance towards Jungkook. “Are we going to eat?”   “Yeah, just give me a second.” Yoonji looks back at Jungkook, grip firming up after loosening. “I’m almost done here—”   “But I’m hungry. Can we go now?”   “Fine.” She releases Jungkook, shooting a last glare at him that makes his spine turn to jelly in the worst ways. He’s still stunned but when he turns to look at his saviour, you’re gone.

The next following weeks come and go without as many difficulties.   Jungkook adjusts well, getting lessons from the coach and watching the games on the sidelines when he’s not brushing up on his own mediocre skills. He learns more of the details of the sport, studying special techniques that he didn’t catch when he was trying to learn on his own with videos online and borrowed library books.   His teammates simmer down too, less excited to see him but still pleasant and warm. Everyone’s friendly and welcoming, except for Yoonji who still shoots him a suspicious look once in a while. But aside from that, Jungkook and the three other new recruits become a part of the team quite easily, integrating with the others like there are no differences between years of age or experience.   Jungkook has almost learnt everyone’s names at this point. He’s exchanged conversations with most, except for you...who seems timid and quiet, and always brushing past him when he approaches.   “Yoonji. Y/N. Taehyung,” Adora calls out at the end of the practice session, pacing back and forth while she reads the names off of her clipboard. “And Jungkook. Could the four of you come here for a quick moment?”   Slowly, the four of you gather along with Namjoon. Yoonji puts away her brush, Taehyung stopping from his practice of throwing stones down the center of the target, also known as the button. You bid goodbye to one of your teammates and Jungkook comes off from the bench. He’s still unfamiliar with his curling shoes, one of the soles called the slider and the other, gripper. It’s the only way no one’s falling over on the slippery ice. It’s different from skating, that’s one thing for sure.   But at this point, Jungkook’s just happy to be on the ice, even by unconventional means.   “First off, I want to congratulate the four of you.” Adora smiles at each of you, towards Yoonji’s raised brow, Taehyung’s bewilderment and both you and Jungkook’s blank expressions. “Namjoon and I have discussed this for a few weeks now and the four of you have been chosen because of your stellar performances.”   “What is it for?” Yoonji cuts to the chase, deciding not to comment that Taehyung throws like he has two left hands, how she’s been swearing up a storm and not exactly demonstrating good sportsmanship, and how Jungkook is literally the worst player she’s ever seen.   “You’ll be representing us in an upcoming competition,” Namjoon announces officially. “The four of you will be our first co-ed team!”   “What?!” There’s an uproar between Yoonji and Taehyung while you remain silent and Jungkook wholly confused. “I thought mixed doubles was only two people?” — “Since when did we ever do co-ed?” — “But I’ve been training with the women’s team?!” — “Why us?!”   “Shut it, shut it.” Adora waves her left hand and her right is preoccupied with pinching the bridge of her nose, trying to not get a headache from the two loud kids in front of her. “Listen, we got four new recruits. Two females and two males. That makes our team twelve people total and since one team is four people….that leaves four people extra, so Namjoon and I decided we would just form a new team. Now we can compete in both men’s, women’s, and mixed.”   As she speaks, she seems to agree with the idea more and more, even nodding along. Namjoon stands straight with his hands behind his back, proud of coming up with such an ingenious suggestion. But the rest of you aren’t as amused.   “I can’t believe this.” Yoonji scoffs, turning to you as if waiting for you to agree how ridiculous this all is. “I thought those newbies would just be subs or something. But they’re actually here to steal our spot?”   “No one’s stealing anything,” Taehyung chides, throwing an arm around the short girl until she literally hurls his appendage off of herself, nearly tugging the arm out of its socket. “Chill!”   “No,” she spits. “Fuck you.”   “Yoonji.” Adora warns her, appearing unimpressed with her attitude and hostility.   “Okay, fine, I get it. I’m pulled off the women’s team that I’ve been playing with for the past, I don’t know, three years. For what? Mixed. That’s cool. It’s different. It’s a nice change.” The girl in the blue jacket with the team’s logo hitches her thumb towards Jungkook. “But why him? That’s one thing I don’t fucking get.”   “Uhhh….” Jungkook blinks, not knowing how to defend himself and not even sure if he wants to.   Taehyung grins, his signature boxy smile spreading into his cheeks. He’s wearing sweatpants and an oversized long-sleeve shirt, oddly not affected by the frigid air. On the outside, he could pass as a farmer from the countryside. “Why not Jungkook?”   The brunette boy is a friendly acquaintance of Jungkook, who’s a bit too friendly. Taehyung’s been rather touchy towards him more so than the others, constantly grabbing him for a hug or throwing an arm around his shoulders. If someone looked at them, they’d think Taehyung and Jungkook were best friends that shared the same cradle together.   “Because he literally started less than a month ago.” She crosses her arms. “I think there are other people who are far more deserving of the position than him. People with more experience. People who have been with us longer. Like....Minsik.” She glances at the elder who’s slumped on the bench and slowly drinking from his water bottle, probably taking his afternoon pills as well. “We’re trying to win, right? Well, he’s been curling for like...thirty years...I think he would better suit the team.”   “No.” Namjoon clears his throat. “We’ve decided on you four.”   Yoonji narrows her eyes, still unconvinced, and she takes a good look at your team. After considering for one minute, she realizes there’s one main similarity between all of you — you’re on the younger side. “Is it because Minsik is old? What...you think he’s going to die before he can get onto the curling sheet?”   “Well, let’s be honest.” Taehyung banters with her, “He’ll probably shatter a hip if he goes too hard.”   Adora sighs, headache getting worse by the second. “We picked you four for a number of reasons. Aside from assessing your different skills and weaknesses and trying to balance that, aside from looking at your...bold personalities...aside from all this...yes, we did consider your age. Good observation, Yoonji.”   She glares at the older woman, not liking her sarcasm and then Namjoon decides to step in, clarifying the situation to avoid misunderstandings. “We intend this team to go long term. If this team does well, then we want you guys to represent us in mixed doubles or co-ed games for the next few years. Adora and I want you to become good enough with enough experience that you can become mentors for future mixed double teams. So yes...it would be helpful if you don’t die or go senile on us.”   “Oh my god. Why don’t you just plan the next ten years of my life without telling me?!”   “It’s technically already planned,” Taehyung quips mischievously. “You’ll have twenty cats by the end of 2038 and by 2060, if we’re not all dead by global warming, you’ll probably build an army of cats and teach them how to curl—”   “Shut the fuck up, you annoying piece of shit.” Yoonji rolls her eyes. “You’re not even funny or clever—”   “Enough!” Adora limit in hearing the children bicker back and forth is reached. She takes a look at Yoonji, Taehyung, Jungkook before settling on you. “You four will work together. The competition is in four months. No but’s.”   The coach stomps off before stopping meters away. She swiftly turns on her toes, comes sprinting back and then grabbing Namjoon and dragging him with her. When both coaches are out of earshot distance, Taehyung makes some snarky comment that you don’t pay much attention to, but Yoonji stomps her foot directly on his. The sassy girl shoots yet another glare towards an unsuspecting Jungkook and then she takes your hand.   “Let’s go.”   She walks off with you and calms down with every step she takes and increasing the distance with the stupid boys. You haven’t said much of a word and she sighs, knowing how you didn’t put up a single fight. “Are you really okay with this?”   You shrug, taking a glance back to the two males who seem lost in the tiny space. “It’ll be fun, I guess.”   //   To say it was tense is an understatement.   The atmosphere was not only awkward but full of hostility, mostly coming from the short girl who could not stop glaring at him. It baffles him. Jungkook’s not sure how this team is supposed to function when Yoonji didn’t want to cooperate, when you stayed completely silent like a mime, and Taehyung had his head literally in the clouds. Even standing next to each other was suffocating, he can’t imagine what playing a game would feel like.   “We should assign roles,” Yoonji begins, trying to get a move on and keep things somewhat professional. As much as she hated this, the prospect of winning was much more important. “Taehyung, you’ll be second.”   “Why should I?” He decides to purposely give her a hard time, a twinkle of playfulness glimmering in his deep brown irises.   “You’re a strong sweeper,” she says without wasting a second breath.   Taehyung wiggles his brows up and down. “So you’ve been watching me? For how long?”   Yoonji ignores him and Jungkook decides to take a step forward. After all, if he’s going to be a part of this team, then he wants to make sure his voice is heard. “Who’s going to be skip?”   He assumes it’s Yoonji since she’s already taken on the role of leader, designating roles to everyone and her personality is rather dominating. But against Jungkook’s expectations, she answers differently and without a note of doubt in her voice. “Obviously, Y/N.”   You? The quiet one of all people is in charge of strategizing. You — as the team captain?   “It’s fine if I’m not,” you mutter softly but Yoonji doesn’t even debate it.   “The problem is, I don’t know what the fuck you should do. You have the least experience out of all of us,” Yoonji addresses Jungkook and groans. “What can you even do?”   “Um...I can throw...and sweep...I think I’m better at throwing.”   “Yeah, I’ll be the judge of that.”   Adora approaches with a clipboard in hand. Today, she’s wearing the team’s official blue zip up track jacket. Her hair’s still in a ponytail, as if permanently gathered to be at the crown of her head but at least her dark circles look better. “What’s going on?”   “We’re designating roles,” Taehyung chirps cheerfully. “I’m second.”   “Who’s even supposed to be our coach?” Yoonji asks and raises a brow. “Or are we our own democracy?”   “More like a dictatorship…” The tall brunette mumbles, hands digging into his grey sweatpants pockets, and she glares at him.   Adora looks at her clipboard and hums. “Namjoon and I are both coaches for this team. Believe it or not, we have enough time and attention to manage two teams at the same time.” She inhales a breath and looks up. “With that being said, I will be designating roles now. Jungkook will take the role of third.”   All at once, there’s a reaction. Taehyung’s thick eyebrows shoot upwards comically. Yoonji is already scoffing and even you tilt your head ever so slightly. Third, also called vice or mate, it requires him to throw draw shots and to...strategize with the skip. It’s an important role.   “What the f—”   “If you didn’t know, in mixed, one male must sweep with one female. Two males can’t be sweeping or throwing, vice versa.”   “Okay.” Yoonji nods. “Then Taehyung should be lead and I’ll be third—”   “No.” The coach won’t have any of it. She’s already made up her mind. “Taehyung’s good at sweeping. You’re good at throwing and sweeping.”   “Oh. My. God.” The bob-cut girl has her head knocked back, whining like a petulant child and rather than being intimidated or wanting to piss his pants, Jungkook’s slightly amused and annoyed. “This is going to be a disaster.”   “Yoonji. If you keep complaining, I’m going to make you do running drills. Don’t test me.”   “.....”   Finally, there’s silence.   //   After one or two more arguments and details being sorted, the four of them are dismissed for the day before extensive training will begin. “You know what?” The shorter girl speaks up as the four of you are walking towards the locker rooms. “I finally get it.”   Taehyung smiles. “What?”   “The only reason, he’s on the team—” Yoonji narrows her eyes on Jungkook. “—is because he brings in publicity. It’s a media stunt.”   “That's a good conspiracy theory. Tell me when you figure out the rest of your theory. Maybe the government's involved.” Taehyung laughs and she ignores him, stopping to directly address the boy she’s prosecuting.   “There are a lot more people who better qualify for your position, so you better not fuck shit up.”   “Oooh,” Taehyung makes an obnoxious sound, making the atmosphere less hostile. You blink, unfazed, before dragging Yoonji away without saying a single word.   The two boys enter the locker room, the other males already finished changing and they’ve left since their practice session ended sooner. Taehyung opens up his tiny locker, changing back into casual clothes despite his athletic wear already looking like regular attire, or pajamas. It’s amusing and even if Taehyung is a bit overbearing, Jungkook’s taken quite a liking to him.   “Don’t let her bother you,” Tae speaks up, stripping his pants in one sweep brazenly and instead of changing into his regular pants, he rips off his shirt, nearly fully nude but thankfully with his underwear still intact. “Yoonji’s always like that but she’s warming up to you...kind of.”   Jungkook makes a noncommittal sound from the back of his throat. While Yoonji’s frightening, he’s starting to become immune to her antics. When someone threatens you every other day, at some point it becomes white noise. He’s not really bothered that much anymore, deciding to roll it off his shoulder.   But there is something that’s bothering Jungkook. Or rather than bothered, he’s curious.   “Hey, Taehyung, can I ask you a question?”   “Of course, Kookie.” His eyes light up with enthusiasm and he turns to Jungkook, giving him his full attention while the other doesn’t mind the bizarre nickname.   “I’m just curious but...why is Y/N the skip?” He doesn’t mean to offend anyone or question your skills but— “She doesn’t seem like the type to strategize...or yell...or be the leader.”   “Right?” Taehyung quirks his head to the side, agreeing with Jungkook. “But believe it or not, Y/N takes it more seriously than Yoonji. And that’s saying something.” He shivers and Jungkook’s not sure if it’s because his skin is exposed to the cold air. “If you think Yoonji is scary, you should meet her older brother, Yoongi. I almost pissed myself.”   Jungkook quickly exchanges his shirt before Taehyung can comment how ripped he is and how he’s got a hot-bod and the brunette seems distracted anyways. “But yeah, Y/N is the most intense person on the team. Not only that, but she’s one of the people who’s been playing for the longest. I think she’s been playing since elementary or something. So she has a lot of experience.”   “Oh.”   Jungkook finds himself stopping and listening.   “Also, she’s three time winner of the WJCC. World Junior Curling Championships. And she’s part of the Kilsyth Curling Club which is pretty crazy. And oh yeah, she was skip of the women’s team too.”   Jungkook turns away. It’s odd.   His curiosity still isn’t satisfied.   //   “Hey, Y/N?” Jungkook struggles to keep up, practically jogging at this point. You walk at an incredible speed and he’s already out of breath. Your bag is held by your side while his is slung over his shoulder, the extra weight making your strides even more amazing.   Jungkook runs a hand through his long black strands, keeping them from pricking his eyes, and you slow down for a second when you notice him. “Hi.”   “Ummm….you’re not with Yoonji?”   You keep your eyes trained forward, never once looking at him directly. “Family stuff. Went home first.”   “Oh.” He walks alongside you, matching your steps. “I was thinking of going home too, but you...uh...wanna grab a bite to eat?”   Your voice is quiet, timid, and he barely catches what you’re saying. “I already have food at home.”   “...oh...okay.” He tries his best not to let the rejection deter him, but it’s difficult when he’s already a stuttering mess. “I..uh...just never really talked to you before and since we’re on the same team…”   This is absolutely excruciating. You don’t respond to him and only awkward silence lingers. Jungkook’s already out of his comfort zone by approaching you and being the first to strike a conversation. If he ever survives this, he’s going to crawl back into the cave he came from and never come out again. “I thought we could get to know each other better.”   You answer — “sure.”   Maybe you were an introvert like him. Maybe you were even more shy than he was, to the point where it’s painfully timid. Maybe it’s not his fault. But somehow, Jungkook doubts this. If you managed to befriend Yoonji, then there’s no way you’re an easy pushover. And Taehyung said you were the most intense one on the team.   But even if you were shy, at the very least, you should look at him.   “I heard you’re a three time championship of the junior competition. That’s really impressive.” He swallows hard when you say nothing. “And you’re part of the K...Kil…”   “Kilsyth Curling Club,” you finally say something more than one word and Jungkook is way too excited, eyes lighting up and taking a step closer. It’s an improvement.   “Yeah. Isn’t that one of the oldest clubs around?”   You hum, not uttering another word. Jungkook is defeated.   Taehyung is overly friendly to him, Yoonji is hostile, but you...you are just apathetic. And it’s all too unsettling to him. There’s nothing he can do to drive this conversation forward when it was dead in the first place. The tension was killing him inside.   “Do you hate me?”   God. Jungkook groans, wondering why such a childish question spilled from his mouth. He feels an urge to slam his forehead into his hand, hard enough that it’ll hopefully break his face and he’ll be put out of his misery once and for all.   “No.”   “Then….” He releases a heavy sigh, unable to understand the reason for your brutal cold shoulder. “Do you want to know why?”   You finally look at him and all Jungkook manages is a grimace. Everyone’s asked him why. Why he joined the curling team. Why he dropped hockey. What exactly happened. His high school acquaintances that he hadn’t spoken to in years had even contacted him to ask. Relatives. Journalists. Opposing members. Strangers. Their own curiosity causing them to pry into his life.   Taehyung’s asked, even the coaches have. Yet, each and every time, he’s simply brushed them off. Jungkook provided some excuse, that he wanted to try something new, that he was getting bored of the same game…..and he said them over and over again even if it was all lies.   “Do you want to know why I quit hockey?”   “No.” You break away from his gaze. “I don’t really care.”   Jungkook frowns, wholly confused at your nonchalance. “Then—”   “I know you don’t care about curling,” you tell him bluntly and without the bite that Yoonji often brings to her words. The way you speak is calm and composed, mellow even. You have a blank expression, casual like you’re commenting on the nice weather. It’s as if you don’t give a damn about his existence. You don’t care if he’s a famous hockey player or a team member with less than a month of experience. You don’t care if he’s just another boy off the street trying to chat.   You are fearsomely indifferent to him.   And while Jungkook is blinking, reeling from your interesting apathy, you continue, “But I hope you gain enough respect for the sport so you won’t drag us down.”   His lips part, not sure what he would even say when he’s stunned speechless. But you beat him to the punch, taking a look across the street and glancing at him quickly. “I have to catch the bus. See you tomorrow.”   He should be put-off by your personality, right? Any normal boy would find your aloofness boring and they’d back off. You haven’t spoken much to him, you’ve expressed disinterest in him completely — you don’t give a fuck if he were to join the circus tomorrow.   He doesn’t even think you’re putting on a coy act or playing ‘hard to get’, if that’s even a thing anymore. And he’s never been into that type in the first place. It’s not that you’re unobtainable and that makes Jungkook interested. Simply, you just seem more preoccupied with the colour of the sky, if there’s gum on the ground, when the bus will turn the corner and come down the street.   And somehow...that makes you so attractive.   “Oh…yeah...see you tomorrow.”   You’ve run off before he’s even finished bidding you goodbye.

There are a lot of intense sports out there.   Sports that require lifetimes of training to perfect. He’s seen it all, been in it. He’s witnessed severe diets, portions of food smaller than the size of his palm. Jungkook’s personally been on strict weight control monitoring. He’s witnessed people work out for ten hours a day. He’s exercised as much as a bodybuilder. He’s seen people on the rink for nineteen hours a day. People who live and breathe the sport, not knowing anything else in life, so entirely absorbed that everything else fades into the background.   After all, Jungkook himself doesn’t know anything else other than the ice.   And yet, curling proves to be something he doesn’t know. It’s both intense and not.   While he isn’t being monitored for his weight or what junk he puts into his mouth, while his every move isn’t being watched by his coaches, the practice isn’t trivial or easy. For one, it requires a lot more strategy than he’s used to.   “You know the types of shots, right?”   You don’t talk to Jungkook much, except when it’s about curling. He almost gets whiplash to how different you are, from being completely silent to commanding the members on the sheet.   “Guard, draws, and takeout.”   “Good. So this is the fifth end. What you want to do is a draw shot. So, try to reach the house.”   Jungkook looks off to where you’re pointing, imagining a direct line to where the stone needs to go. “But shouldn’t I try to hit that rock right there? I think I can bump it to the house.”   “No.” You shake your head. “You might bump that other rock and accidentally do a takeout. It’s too risky. Plus, you have to set up my shots too.”   “Alright.” Jungkook gets into position, squatting down and limbs moving a bit stiffly, still trying to get used to it all. He puts his sliding foot in front of the hack foot, not having a lot of pressure on his left ankle. He keeps his hips and shoulders square and steady, inhaling a breath before throwing the stone. His arm gives it an extra push and he releases it cleanly.   The stone curls on the sheet, bending slightly towards the target, known as the house.   You lower yourself, right beside him. Immediately, Jungkook’s breathing halts. It occurs to him how close you are. Your hair nearly skims the skin of his cheek and your scent tickles his nose in a pleasant way. He swallows hard before turning his head slightly to meet your eyes—   “YUP! Right up!” You scream at the two individuals holding the brooms, startling Jungkook from your ear-bleeding volume and the entire arena turns to stare. “Hurry hard! Hard! Hard! HARD!”   The stone begins to curl less and less and it goes for longer as Yoonij and Taehyung continue working hard, using their muscle power into the handle of the curling brush. “Sweep, motherfucker!” Yoonji shouts to the person across from her.   “I am sweeping!” Taehyung shrieks in exasperation.   “Sweep harder!”   “It hurts my arms!”   “I don’t care, harder!” The girl grunts. “That all you got, Kim?”   “Fuck.” He’s breathing heavily, chest heaving up and down and sweat dripping off his skin from the constant movement.   “WOAH!” You shout and they stop sweeping at once, slowly watching as the stone slows and makes it close to the button. Once it’s stopped completely, they turn and you nod before looking over to Jungkook. “Not bad. You might want to give it more of a push when you release it, but aside from that, not shabby for the first one. You still have the sixth end and then it’s my turn.”   “Okay.” Throughout the rest of the game, Jungkook is given more advice and learns strategies that only someone experienced would know. It’s a bit overwhelming since there’s more to it than he would expect. He’s used to using his body more than his brain, but he doesn’t mind the change at all.   By the end of it, he’s gotten a good grasp and the four of you gather up again.   “That was good but still not enough,” Yoonji sighs, turning to look at the final placement of all the stones.   “I think we did pretty well for our first practice. We’ll probably win at this rate,” Taehyung voices his own opinion but the short bob-cut girl hits the back of his head which causes him to wince.   “We’re not trying to be just good, dumbass. The goal isn’t to win the championships. We have to make it to the Olympics.” There seems to be mutual agreement over the statement.   Before Jungkook can turn to you and talk, you’ve all returned to your positions, doing it all over again.   //   An entire month passes of more practice and extensive training. Adora often conducts the exercises and curling drills, even showing stretches that will help strengthen core muscles. On the other hand, Namjoon watches the actual practice games and gives tips on the strategy as well as everyone’s techniques. Aside from that, the four of you also go against the women’s and men’s teams in friendly rounds to practice. Usually you all win.   Jungkook receives a set of blue uniforms — a track jacket, a sweater, a shirt and some pants, all imprinted with the logo — and it makes him officially part of the team.   “You know…” Taehyung is fooling around with the broom and he puts it in between his legs. “If I wasn’t curling, I’d probably be part of muggle quidditch.”   The guy begins running around on the sheet, pretending to fly and Jungkook grins while watching him. When Taehyung lifts up his gripper shoe and begins to slip around with his slider shoe like a figure skater, he eventually loses traction and collides to the ground. Luckily enough, he doesn’t sustain any injuries but the end of the broom hits on his...goods and he cries out.   “Holy shit!” Taehyung grabs his crotch, wailing out as tears accumulate in his eyes. “My future kids!”   Jungkook kneels over in laughter, having to look away to calm down. “You better not break that broom or else I’m sure Yoonji would rip your balls off anyhow.”   Taehyung rolls all over the ice, still trying to recover. “You’re all so cruel. What’s more important, my pickle or the equipment?”   “The equipment,” Jungkook barks out another stream of laughter and Taehyung stops rolling, instead settling on his back and staring at the ceiling and the bright lights.   “I need a drink or two.”   “You don’t even like alcohol.”   “Yeah. It’s bitter.”   “You spat out the shot I gave you.” Jungkook crosses his arms, the corners of his lips tugging upwards as he reminds the brunette of the memory. “You spat it all over my lap.”   Taehyung gives a sheepish grin. “Sorry about that. You looked like you pissed yourself after. I totally ruined your chances with that cute waitress.”   “Nah, she wasn’t that into me anyways and you were a terrible wingman.” His hockey teammates have slowly cut contact with him, having no reasons to continue communicating and even when it was painful, Jungkook never expected to make a new best friend here.   “Hey, Tae, can I ask you something?”   The guy shifts to lay on his side, propping up his elbow and resting his head in his hand, flashing a sexy pose. “Depends. If you’re going to ask for a threesome, me, you and Yoonji, we have to ask if Yoonji’s down and that might take a bit of….convincing.”   Jungkook hums. “I can kind of understand why Yoonji always sucker punches you now.”   “Wow, rude.” He puts a hand over his chest. “I don’t deserve her harsh punishments, even if it’s kind of hot. It still hurts, y’know.”   The younger scoffs and sits down, the chills running through his bones. His hand skims along the smooth ice, welcoming the frigid temperature that seems to cool down the rest of his body. He doesn’t look at his friend, too transfixed over the ice. “It’s about Y/N.”   “What about her?” Tae wiggles his brows up and down. “You interested?”   “No, it’s not like that. I’m just curious. Is she always like that?”   “Always like what?”   He chooses the first few words that come to mind. “Calm. Collected. Apathetic.”   Taehyung makes a noncommittal noise from the back of his throat and frowns, considering the question seriously before he shakes his head. “No, not really. I actually don’t think Y/N is apathetic at all.”   “Really?” Jungkook is surprised. “Because she doesn’t give a shit about me. I mean, she doesn’t even talk to me if it doesn’t have to do with curling. And when I try to talk, she answers me with one word.”   “Wow.” There’s a twinkle of amusement sparkling in the boy’s irises. “Does she hate you or something?”   “She said she doesn't.” When Taehyung gives him a look of ‘how can you be so sure’, Jungkook adds on, “I asked.”   “Y/N’s a bit timid, I guess.” He folds his arms behind his head, resting. “She’s actually pretty clingy and affectionate and talkative when she gets into it. Reminds me of my younger sister. Yoonji’s so close to her because Y/N practically latched onto her. Plus, Y/N awakens a protective instinct in a lot of people. But she can be annoying. Don’t tell her I said that.”   Taehyung laughs, his words holding no malice and spoken all in good fun, as if he was talking about his own sibling, slightly endeared if anything. “Maybe it’s better if you keep a distance, then you don’t have to suffer from her rants.”   Jungkook is absolutely shocked.   He hangs onto every syllable that his friend speaks and it’s almost like he’s talking about a completely different person. He looks away, fingernails skimming on the ice as he unknowingly pouts. “Maybe she really does hate me.”   “Probably not. Y/N’s not the type. She’d only hate you if you hated curling or something.” Taehyung giggles and gets up to his feet, stretching out his arms. “But that’s probably not it. She’ll warm up to you eventually. Give it some time. But anyways, you wanna go grab some fast food? I’m starving.”   Unfortunately, Jungkook doesn’t hear his friend. He’s too preoccupied, or rather, being driven insane. The more and more he hears about you, the more curious he becomes.

The pressure is on.   With only so much time left, it was really hitting you like a ton of bricks. You have to do well. Especially since you carried such a big role on your shoulders. You are the captain, the leader of the team. The last two shots are yours and if you don’t do well, you’ll let the rest of them down.   These thoughts echo in the recesses of your mind and you get down into position. The arena is quiet, lights only shining on the ice, the smooth surface shimmering, and you hold your breath. With one swift motion, you throw the stone towards the house at the end of the sheet, trying to reach the center. It travels close, but not close enough.   And you throw another one. And another one. And another one.   You keep throwing until all ten are gone and then you walk to the end, collecting them again and starting the entire process over. You can’t feel anything, not your fingers or the tip of your nose. Sweat drips from your skin, all you see is the stone and the house. All you want is to win.   Everything else fades into the background.   “You should drink something.” Your concentration is shattered when something cold presses against your cheek. When you look up, blinking past the bright fluorescent lights to the shadow looming over you, you find Jungkook holding a water bottle.   “Thanks.” You’re breathless and you sit down properly, letting your legs rest as you twist the cap of the bottle open, downing half of the liquid and quenching your thirst.   Jungkook sits too, but he maintains a good distance to not make you feel uncomfortable. “I..uh..came to practice too and I saw you. How long have you been here for?”   You lightly shrug. “Time?”   He’s learnt to read your own worded answers and glances at his phone. “Eight.”   “Oh.” It’s later than you expected. “Twelve hours.”   “You were here since eight am?!” Jungkook’s doe eyes are double in size, his mouth hanging open. You don’t pay any attention to him, stretching your arms and wincing a little. “That’s...impressive. Have you eaten anything yet?” You shake your head and he clears his throat. “Do you want to go grab something together? I mean...I haven’t had dinner yet either and only if you want to. I don’t want to make you feel uncomfor—”   “Sure.”   Jungkook’s surprised you actually agreed and he doesn’t want to admit how happy it makes him.   The both of you end up walking down two blocks to the twenty-four hour convenience store. At this time of night, there’s no one except for you and him, some college student, and a bored high schooler cashier. The sound of the fridges whirl in the back and your apathy is replaced with interest as you lean forward, studying the rows and rows of food carefully. Jungkook shifts to stand beside you, considering the products as well.   “What are you getting?”   “Ramen.” A ghost of a smile appears on your face for a split of a second and you grab two of them. Before heading to the counter, you pick up candy and snacks like you’re trick-or-treating and you turn to Jungkook with another idea. “You want drinks?”   Holding cup noodles of his own, his eyes light up. “Sure.”   The pair of you gather outside to eat. You’re waiting for your noodles to cook in the boiling water, the cup sitting on the square plastic table while you’re settled in the white plastic chair.   The street is quiet; the only noise is the muted buzz of the lamppost above you, casting a yellow glow down and bleeding together with the warm light coming from inside the store. After a moment, Jungkook comes out after pouring water into his own cup noodle but he has something else in hand.   You jump when something cold presses on your left shoulder. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” he mumbles when you take the ice pack, looking at it, and he settles into the seat across from you. “Your left shoulder hurts, right?”   The coldness soothes the aching muscle and you lose tension in your body. “Thanks.”   You’re surprised that he noticed. You didn’t even realize yourself, having accidentally overexerted your body during practice.   Jungkook sits back and opens a bag of honey chips, throwing a few in his mouth, the snack crunching as he chews. There’s a moment of silence before he breaks it. “We work in a team.” You meet his eyes and he smiles gently. “It’s okay if you rely on us.”   “I know,” you murmur. “I just don’t want to let anyone down.”   “You won’t. If we win, we win together. If we lose, we lose together. That’s why I like team sports the best.” Jungkook grins and a small sigh of contentment leaves the seams of his lips. “You’re never alone.”   You stare at him. Jungkook takes another handful of chips before setting it down, continuing to mumble as he chews in his cheek, “Anyways, you should keep an eye on that shoulder. Tell me if it worsens. If it doesn’t get better by tomorrow, we can go down to the clinic.”   “Thank you.”   “No problem.” Jungkook mixes his noodles, looking to see if it’s ready yet. He sets it down, letting it cook for another few minutes as he cracks open the bottle and takes a small sip.   “I forced myself to play through an injury once.” He stares down at the label, rotating the bottle in his hand and letting the liquid slosh around inside. “I thought the entire team was counting on me. I didn’t want to disappoint anyone and I had worked so hard to be there that day. I didn’t want to give it up. But if I didn’t play that day…..”   It’s not difficult to put two and two together.   “You wouldn’t be here right now.”   Jungkook raises his head and locks his gaze with yours. Your stare is powerful, like you’re really looking at him, maybe even straight through his skin, and he becomes nervous. Still, he prefers this over you purposely avoiding eye contact.   “Yeah...maybe not..” Suddenly his appetite is lost but he shakes off the feeling, taking the noodles and forcing himself to eat it. He shrugs. “I’m just happy I can be on the ice.”   You mix your own noodles, stirring before blowing on them thoughtfully. There’s some awkward silence before you take the leap, deciding to reveal a secret of yours in exchange for his. “....I was supposed to be a figure skater.”   You’re not sure where it’s coming from but you’re in a reminiscent mood and the memory comes stumbling to the forefront of your mind. Jungkook looks up and you continue, “I wasn’t good at making friends. So when I was in elementary, my mom signed me up for a sport so I could get to know people.”   There’s a slight smile on your face and you open the bottle, taking a sip. The alcohol burns pleasantly down your throat and you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “She was supposed to sign me up for figure skating, but she signed the wrong form and I joined curling instead.”   Jungkook can’t help but laugh, especially when you’re sighing and pouting. It’s tragically funny. He’s baffled considering how curling and figure skating are two very different things and you were now in this sport all because of an accident. He wonders if he would’ve met you if the circumstances were different — if he had continued with hockey and you were a figure skater. Maybe you would’ve run into each other at the Olympics or some other competition.   “What happened after that?”   “I went out on the ice for the first few weeks and nine-year old me thought we were doing exercises before they gave us skates. You know...so we can get used to the ice. But eventually when they never gave me skates and handed me a broomstick instead, I knew something was wrong.”   He’s chewing a mouthful in his cheek, reminiscent to a squirrel and he’s unable to repress his grin. “And you never switched to skating?”   “No.” The corners of your lips are meekly upturned. “I found out I really like curling. The coaches were nice, I made friends, it kind of felt like a family. So, I stuck with it and here I am.”   Jungkook hums, agreeing with you. His hockey team felt more like a frat house, which he didn’t mind. But there was something different about the curling team that was so much warmer. The atmosphere was vastly different, almost like everyone actually cared for one another.   “Sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened if my mom signed me up for something else and not curling,” you say after swallowing some noodles down and taking a sip of the drink. It can be pretty fun thinking about the endless possibilities. “I could’ve done anything...like become a clown.”   “I think you’d be better as a mime,” he snickers and you narrow your eyes.   “I would not.”   “Yeah, you would,” he lightheartedly teases. “If I passed by, I’d make sure to spare you a few coins.”   “Psh.” All you manage is a scoff and Jungkook laughs, having rendered you completely speechless.

“Can you believe we’re here?” Taehyung whispers in absolute amazement, mesmerized by the building in front of him. All four of you have your heads knocked back, staring up at the arena that seems to tower in the sky. It’s massive and looking at the top makes your necks hurt.   This isn’t like the small arena where your team practices at. It isn’t those small community centers or a tiny indoor area or a puny stadium, but a legitimate, massive arena.   “Well considering we were just on a five hour bus...yeah…” Yoonji hums, her butt cheeks still aching from sitting on the stiff seats and being knocked around every other minute from the bumpy road. “I can believe that.”   Namjoon and Adora stand behind you and the former man presses a hand to Jungkook’s shoulder and the other to Taehyung’s who are both standing on different ends of the group. “Alright kids, don’t get too comfortable. I know our opponents are nice as all hell and they invited us to have dinner with them, but the championship is still in two days. We gotta get that blood pumping.”   “When are the others coming?” Yoonji asks, already wanting to get a move on.   The coaches got special permission to try out the sheet. Every place was a bit different and it was best to get a good feel for the arena before the actual competition starts. An advantage to the team being split into men’s, women’s, and mixed, was that you could all compete in friendly rounds together and not have to go out of your way to invite an opposing team to play.   This would be the last practice round before resting fully tomorrow for the actual games.   “They’re still getting settled in at the hostel.” Adora checks her watch. “They should be here in less than twenty minutes.”   “You know what’s my favourite part of this job? The paperwork.” Namjoon sighs in exhaustion, running a hand over his face and probably clogging his pores as he does so. “We have to figure some stuff out. So, go inside first and stay there. And don’t cause any trouble.”   At the word ‘trouble’, Yoonji feels something on the side of her face, a strong force, and when she turns her head, she glares at her coach. “Why are you staring at me?”   “No reason.” There’s a tight-lipped smile that comes from Adora.   No amount of staring or glaring can help. The four you are lost causes, troublemakers from the start.   But things go well when you enter. It’s nice and all you manage to do is marvel at the architecture, the high ceilings and white pillars that hold the infrastructure. If the entrance is this lovely, you can’t imagine what the rest looks like. For one, you know there are multiple rinks in here, not just sheets for curling, but also for skating, hockey, and all other kinds of ice games.   As you wait — Taehyung bothering Yoonji for his own amusement while you and Jungkook make small talk — the peace is disrupted by loud, boisterous noise coming from a cluster of hockey members exiting from a door.   They’re dressed in red jerseys, hair wet with sweat, brand name duffle bags slung on their shoulders. Before you look away and mind your own business, one of them nudges the other.   “Hey….isn’t that Jungkook?”   Not being discreet at all, they point right to where you are. Beside you, Jungkook seems to stiffen, eyes downcasted. He recognizes the group as a team he used to compete with.   “Jeon Jungkook?” The taller one snorts. “Nah, can't be. What are they anyways?”   “Oh, isn’t there something going on this weekend?” Someone else butts into the conversation.   “What?”   “Can’t remember.”   “It’s curling, dumbass.” Another calls out from the back of the group with a bark of a laugh.   But the shorter one frowns in confusion. “What’s curling?”   “It’s the cleaning sport. They mop. The sweeping thing.” The taller one literally facepalms when the other guy is still blank. “You know...the one where they’re always screaming.”   “Oh. That.” He’s not that enlightened by the revelation. “How is that even a sport?”   “Beats me. Doesn’t need any skills or talent. Bet my two year old nephew could play it.”   “Guys, guys, you’re so uncultured.” The other guy laughs. “It’s the sport for women. They’re competing with their scrubbing skills, duh.”   Another one of the members chortles. “More like a sport for janitors.”   The entire team tunes into the conversation, laughing and openly insulting you four as if you’re not even standing right there. “Janitors got bored and wanted to make a sport for themselves.”   But if there’s one person who won’t allow themselves to be made a mockery, it’s Min Yoonji.   The girl stands up to her feet in one fluid motion, her voice loud and dripping of venom. “Hey! If you got something to say then say it to our fucking faces, you pathetic cowards.”   The taller one puts his palms up. “Woah there, the cat bites.” The entire group laughs boisterously, acting like high school assholes that never grew up. “You should save that passion for your little game, sweetheart.”   “You must be really good at cleaning,” another pipes up with a dumb joke that they think is so funny. “How much to hire?”   A muscle twitches in her cheek. Her jaw clenches hard enough for her teeth to shatter and she balls up her fist, nails sinking into her skin while she takes a step forward, ready to throw punches and scratch faces. But Taehyung’s own hand is faster, moving up to grip at her shoulder to stop the girl from making any mistake. “Yoonji...”   “Don’t touch me,” she hisses out and shakes him off.   Jungkook’s been over the rules tens of times before, especially when Namjoon’s lecture on the ins and outs of championships was an hour long and Yoonji, herself, reminded him not to fuck shit up for the rest of them.   If there’s violence, the entire team can be disqualified from participating.   Everything you worked so hard for will go down the drain.   “Stop it.”   You stand on your feet before Jungkook can step up. And like always, you are calm and collected, seemingly unaffected by the other’s outrageous and disgusting comments.   “Hey,” some guy whispers from the group while you’re trying to compose Yoonji, but Jungkook notices and catches wind of what he says. “That girl’s kind of cute. How much do you wanna bet I can bend her over tonight on my kitchen counter.”   The other snickers, “Be careful, she might start cleaning it.”   Had anyone aside from Jungkook heard it, there would be blood shedding on the floor and scalps ripped off of heads. Yoonji is already physically shaking, angry to the brink of tears and it’s less because of what they said and more to do with the fact that she can’t do anything about it. People like them will always step on what you love most.   “Awww, looks like the little maid is all talk. Got no strength in those arms of yours, honey?” Someone aggravates Yoonji on purpose, too entertained with how you and Taehyung are trying to placate her and force her to walk away. What they don’t know is that they’re not just poking a bear with a stick, but an entire team of rabid, fucking bees.   Bees are always scarier than bears.   Yoonji spins on her heel to face them, this time a vein in her forehead bursting in her skin. “Shut the fuck up, you piece of literal dog shit. Your mom should’ve swallowed you when she had the chance or was it your dad that had a weak pull out game? Stop talking before you overexert your last brain cell.”   “What the fu—”   Jungkook snorts, and he slides himself to stand in front of you. “If you guys have so much time as to stand around and insult us, then maybe your time is better spent practicing.”   A few brows raise and others nudge each other. There’s a murmur over the group of eleven, some comments made from disbelief and others in hilarity. “Oh my god.”— “No fucking way.” — “It is him.” — “It’s Jungkook.”   He cocks his head to one side. “If this is what you’re doing all season, it’s no wonder you lose every game you play.”   “Wha—”   “What was it again?” Jungkook pretends to think before he leans forward like he’s unsure of himself. “Didn’t we win seven to zero last season? I think you broke a record, huh? I guess that’s the only record you’ll ever be breaking.”   Taehyung giggles hysterically, stomach aching as it squeezes and he has to physically wipe his eyes from tears of happiness. “No way, seven to zero?! Oh my god!”   Jungkook laughs too, turning to his best friend. “No one ever loses that badly. It’s actually kind of impressive how bad they can be. But it was honestly really sad to play against. I felt bad.”   They’re embarrassed and humiliated, a handful of them turning away and others clicking their tongue and muttering ‘whatever, man’, unable to refute the truths that come from him. But the taller guy can’t handle it. “Jeon, you better watch that mouth of yours!”   “Or what? You’re going to score into my net?”   Taehyung is brought into another fit of laughter. The corner of Yoonji’s lip draws upwards, arms crossed and taunting them while the guy is left red-faced, ashamed at the memory. His jaw ticks and he shouts, “Jeon!”   “If there’s any cleaning to do, then it’s your team that needs it.” Jungkook smirks, channeling his inner arrogance, playing the role of the frat house fuckboy, a facade he had perfected when he was part of the hockey team. “Also, you shouldn’t be so disrespectful to janitors considering your dad is one, Joshua.”   They’re left completely baffled.   //   The four of you are walking off, to god knows where but that’s not the point. There’s a surge of satisfaction and confidence that boils in everyone’s veins and it feels badass to walk together like this, as if telling the rest of the world that you guys can’t be fucked with.   “Ugh, I should’ve just punched them.” Yoonji throws her fist in the air, alternating both arms, and Jungkook can hear how the wind whistles with her swiftness. She should’ve tried boxing instead or the MMA. Jungkook’s certain she’d do well in those areas.   “Or we could’ve waited until it was night and then jump them in a back alley,” Taehyung jokes around even though it looks like Yoonji’s legitimately considering it. “But honestly, Jungkook burned them so hard. Did you see the looks on their faces?” He’s still laughing. “Like I thought they were gonna piss themselves from Yoonji’s savage insult but after Jungkook, goddamn, they looked like they were gonna cry.”   “Yeah. Not too bad, Kook.” Yoonji smirks in satisfaction, giving him her seal of approval. “You’re a pretty good asshole when you want to be. Not bad at all.”   “Uh, thanks?”   “But I’m still pissed.”   “Just ignore them.” Out of the four, you’re the most apathetic to the whole experience. Sure, you can’t find words to describe how cruel they were and had you been alone, you probably would’ve filed an official complaint, but it was all so childish. Ultimately, you’d rather not waste your energy on such useless things. “Don’t let them have that power over you. At the end of the day, what they think and do has no effect on us.”   Yoonji leans on you, throwing her arm over your shoulder. “You’re such an angel.”   “No. I just think winning is more important.”   “Touché. Let’s win this.”

If there’s one thing Jungkook might never get used to is celebrating before the competition.   But here you all were, the entire curling team of twelve people and two coaches surrounding a giant table in a fried chicken restaurant, having drinks and eating away like it’s a wedding celebration.   Taehyung told him that this was one of the few traditions your team had and Jungkook had to admit, it was more than nice. Before any games, the hockey players would play up their performance through arrogance and mask any inch of nervousness. Jungkook would always have to hide his shaking hands deep within his pockets.   But he didn’t need to put on any tough act here and strangely enough, he didn’t even feel any rush of anxiety. Jungkook feels calm, assured, especially when Namjoon was toasting that no matter what happens, everyone’s already happy to have made it this far.   “I really like curling,” Jungkook comments thoughtfully after sipping on some beer. It’s kind of gross and bitter, but he thinks in the future, he’ll become nostalgic drinking it again.   Yoonji raises a brow and Taehyung giggles, a bit tipsy. But tonight, he can drink to his heart’s content since tomorrow will be dedicated to recovering from hangovers. “Really? That’s great, Kookie!”   “Yes, because we oh-so need Jeon Jungkook to like curling when the match is in two days.” Yoonji rolls her eyes, sarcasm dripping from her tone and she bites into her chicken drumstick like a wild animal before pointing the bone at him. “Why did you even join us if you didn’t like it in the first place?”   He laughs, feeling light and happy from the alcohol. “That’s not it. I’m just saying that I really appreciate it now...the sport, the team, the atmosphere of it all.”   “We’re known for our good sportsmanship!” Taehyung chirps while fist pumping the air. “It’s the Spirit of Curling!”   “Oh my god.” Yoonji groans. “I hate this shit so bad.”   “But that’s the fun of it, Yoonji!” The brunette pouts, jutting out his bottom lip and fluttering his lashes. “When our opponent does well, we congratulate them. When we do well, they congratulate us. Isn’t that so nice? We never cheer for mistakes, there’s never negative comments, the winners even buy the losers drinks, we can even end a match if we think we’re gonna lose and that’s okay! Isn’t that so, so, so, so, so, so nice?!”   “Yeah, yeah, yeah…” She grumbles, moving onto a fried chicken wing and double fisting with another drum.   In the meanwhile, Taehyung has tears accumulated in his eyes, becoming overly sentimental over the game. “Do you think I can marry curling?”   “At this rate, the only thing you’ll be able to marry is your anime girl body pillow.”   Taehyung puts a hand over his chest, gasping dramatically at his teammate. “You know about Hariki?”   Jungkook laughs and then he hears something else, something soft and sweet, a tinkling sound and his ears perk. When he looks over, he realizes that it’s you who’s laughing at something else. But your cheeks are puffed out, eyes slightly crinkled and a noise he’s never heard before leaves your throat. You’re obviously drunk, giggling with the others, and Jungkook can’t find it in himself to look away.   Yoonji removes herself from Taehyung’s conversation, rolling her eyes and completely done with him. She looks across from her to the boy who’s suddenly become quiet and when she follows Jungkook’s line of sight, it lands straight on you. Her brow raises and within one blink of a second, she understands exactly what’s going on.   “Looks like our little Kookie has a little crush.” She’s leaning forward with a sinister expression, whispering lowly so no one else can hear, at least not when Taehyung’s bothering someone else and his obnoxious later echoes throughout the room.   On the simple word ‘crush’, it has Jungkook turning back, nearly breaking his neck from the whiplash. His doe eyes double, cheeks deepening in its pink hue and the glow isn’t from the alcohol. “W-what?”   Yoonji smirks and she grabs the nearest bottle by the neck, pouring him a shot, thankfully something other than beer. But still, he watches her warily and she pours her own drink, holding it before motioning for him to do the same. She clinks the glass together and the two of them down it in one go. A satisfied sound escapes from her mouth when it burns her throat pleasantly.   “That’s for our alliance. I want to shank you less these days.”   “Thanks?”   “You’re welcome.” Her smirk expands eerily and he’s reminded why he wanted to piss his pants when he first met her. She is one scary, scary, petrifying lady. “But you’re treading on some dangerous territory, Jeon.” Yoonji steals a discreet glance at you before staring him right in the eyeball. “Make a wrong move and I’ll rip off your ballsack.”   “Uhhh….yes, ma’am.”   “Good.” Another smile appears as if she didn’t just threaten him and the bob-cut girl leans back, increasing her volume, joining back into the regular conversation. “Who poured a drink for Y/N?! You know she’s a lightweight!”   “It’s fine!” You wave your hand, giggling before latching onto one of the older ladies beside you, hugging her arm to your chest. She doesn’t seem to mind, if anything she’s endeared and reminded of her own kids that grew up too fast. “I’m fine….”   “Jackson—”   “I didn’t.” The older man holds up his palms, laughing in good nature next to his fiancée. “I can’t believe I’m being wrongly accused!”   The drinks and chicken-eating continues into the night. After tomorrow, the games will begin and Jungkook can sincerely say he’s excited for it. There’s no pressure on him, no heavy weight laid upon his shoulders, no cold sweats dripping off his skin. He’s not completely relaxed but he’s looking forward to it, ready to try his hand at the sport and try to win.   The breeze is cool outside, carding through his hair and making his skin even more flushed. Jungkook digs his hands into his black coat pockets, looking out at the mosaic of city lights. It’s a strange emotion that overcomes him. He thought he lost everything after the injury, lost his friends, his career, the reason he even lived. But here he was, having started over again, and even more content and happy than he thought he could ever be.   “Oh my gosh! Look who it is! It’s my favourite person on the whole planet!” The front door is barely held open by Yoonji’s foot as she carries your deadweight, but the moment your eyes lay on Jungkook, you’re giggling and running over to him. He lets out an ‘oof’ when you suddenly embrace him, engulfing his larger frame with your smaller arms, surprisingly affectionate.   Yoonji sighs, not even trying to peel you off. “Jungkook, can you watch her for a second? I don’t know where Taehyung went and the last thing we need is for him to wander into the women’s washroom again.”   “Again?”   “Again.” She exhales in exhaustion. “God, these people are lightweights and drink like they aren’t. Watch her, I’ll be right back. No funny business!”   A lot of the team members had returned to the hostels early since their regular bedtime was eight, something Jungkook can’t wrap his mind around. It was only ten right now and he can remember being out past midnight. But a lot of the members were older and couldn’t last as long on a night out which was completely understandable.   A few others were in the washroom and the two coaches were paying, splitting the bill and treating the team. So, it was only you and Jungkook waiting outside the restaurant.   “You’re so cute, Jungkook.” You’re still hanging onto him, your back arching when you look up at him, smiling sheepishly and searching his face. He swallows hard, looking straight ahead.   “I...think you’re cuter.”   “Awwwww….” You release him a bit, batting at his arm. “That’s so sweet. See? You’re so nice and kind and soft….”   “Soft?” He raises his brows while laughing and you nod enthusiastically. If there’s one word he would never use to describe himself it would be that word. All the other girls he knows would call him hot or muscular or manly or sexy….not that he was tooting his own horn...he’s just never heard someone call him soft before.   And as if to reaffirm your belief, you move your palms up, squishing his cheeks together with a squeaky giggle. His lips press together and he flinches, finally looking at you. “See? Squishy! You look like a fish.”   “Do I?” His words are muffled and his face is beginning to hurt from smiling so much.   For a mere millisecond, his eyes flicker down to your lips that look so captivating, from the dip of your cupid’s bow to the upturned corners, every line and inch.   “Yeah..but I hate fishes. I had one when I was ten. It was a yellow goldfish and my best friend and I had it in a glass bow and I brought it around with me everywhere. Once, I remember running and the fish fell out of the bowl and I screamed, but dad put it back in. But then I had to flush it down the toilet when it died.” You finally release his rounded cheeks, suddenly sad but still continuing on your rant, “are you ever scared that the dead fishes will appear in your toilet bowl? Like what if it doesn’t flush all the way down? Imagine all the flushed fishes of the world appearing in your toilet when you’re trying to pee.”   “I never really thought about it before,” he says honestly, eyes twinkling in amusement as he watches you. Your skin is glowing underneath the lamp posts’ light and he can genuinely admit you look stunning, even when you’re drunk out of your mind.   “Do you wanna sleep with me, Kook?”   He chokes. The black-haired boy goes pale as he hacks on his saliva unattractively, the air in his lungs ripped in away in utter shock. “w-..what?!”   “You look like you’d be nice to cuddle with.” Your arms return around his abdomen, hugging him. “Like a stuffed bunny. I had a rabbit when I was a kid...but I had to flush it down the toilet too.” Jungkook’s next overwhelming emotion is horror and you laugh. “Kidding!”   Part of him wants to just throw you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, tired of all your shenanigans and how you’re playing his feelings like a fiddle. But being oblivious to his turmoil, you continue with slurred words, “mom never let me have a bunny...or a horse...or a dog…”   He can understand why you never got any pets if you couldn’t even keep a fish alive.   Jungkook looks down at you and visible gulps. Your tongue runs on the seams of your lips, barely poking out to wet them and Jungkook feels an urge to pull you in by your waist and kiss you silent. He wants to press his mouth on yours and taste what kind of chapstick you use, see if they’re as soft as they look.   And yet, he doesn’t.   He doesn’t kiss you because he’s a damn coward. He’s a fool. He doesn’t kiss you because he would want you to remember it. And maybe….maybe if you win the competition in two days, he’ll muster up the courage to.   “I used to watch you play games, y’know.” You break his train of thought, snapping him out of his trance and his eyes flicker to meet yours again. You’re trying to whisper again, “I’m a fan.”   Apparently you like to spill secrets when you’re wasted.   “You are?”   “Yeah. You’re good at everything you do. The best! The golden player!” You flash a thumbs up, still giggling, and Jungkook is so happy, he could combust into flames right now and be lowered into his grave with a stupid grin. “I like you a lot, Kook.”   “Thanks.” His cheeks hurt from smiling so wide and the next thing he says, he means it wholeheartedly, “I like you too.”   “You know what would be really funny?” You’re already laughing, giddy and crumbling your fingers into small fists, trembling with excitement. Jungkook grins, too curious for his own good.   “What?”   You cup your hand over your mouth like you're about to exchange yet another secret, but you’re still laughing like crazy and your voice is loud — “Let’s run away from Yoonji.”   “Wait. What?!” His eyes double. “No, that’s a terrible, terrible idea.”   Before Jungkook can do anything, you’ve suddenly grabbed onto his hand, dashing off. He stumbles forward, right behind you, nearly tripping and falling flat on his face. Jungkook can barely catch a breath and you’re cackling euphorically, running off into the night and dragging him with you.

The cheers from the stands keep him going.   The cold air wafts in the atmosphere, icy breeze deepening his cheeks to rosy hue. The ice rink has a smooth surface, never to be marred by lines embroidered by skates. He steps out on the sheet, ice beneath his feet and the accumulated crowd on the stands cheer, holding the country’s flag up high. The four of you look onward.   Jungkook stands beside you, Yoonji on your side and Taehyung on his other side. Each of you brace yourselves before exchanging looks. “Ready?”   You smile, feeling at ease. “Let’s do this.”

[thotful-writing]

Ambush

Thomas Rush x Reader

Description: Cap was always there for Rush, no matter what he needed, but she kept quiet about her needs for him, until they were ambushed.

Warning: Lemon, NSFW, Smut, violence, mentions of blood and death

She had risen through the ranks pretty quickly when she first started, proving herself to Rush and everyone else that she more than belonged there. Rush had begun to depend on her, to count on her to be there for him no matter what task he set her to, and of course she was more than happy to help.

“Cap, I need you to run blocker for our convoy up the ridge tonight. Reports have come in about a few militias in the area.” He stood in the doorway to her quarters.

“No problem.” She smiled up at him. She had become his first in command and first choice for anything important.

Their relationship was platonic, but she always hoped for more. Rush was brave and commanding, she loved the way he took charge of any situation. She had never made any efforts to change their relationship though, not wanting to be put in an awkward position if he didn’t reciprocate her feelings, so she pined from a distance.

She left out with the convoy, Rush was in one of the middle vehicles, knowing they could use all the help they could get in case things went south. She led the convoy through the woods and headed up the mountain, the snow started coming down and it was getting hard to see. Before she knew it, a bomb went off in front of her car in the tree line, then another, they were getting closer. She stopped immediately and got out of the car, running back into the trees. The convoy halted as well as men jumped out and began shooting along the tree line ahead. In a matter of seconds, it had turned into an all-out fire fight. There was gunfire everywhere, shots echoed through the woods. She pushed forward with the others, trying to keep them from getting to the trucks. Men were being taken out left and right, the snow was falling even harder now. She continued to push forward as more and more people fell behind.

“Ah, fuck!” She cried out as she felt a bullet graze her leg, but she continued to push, fighting with everything she had. The pain became too much, and she fell to her knees, not wanting to give up but having no choice.

“Get up, Cap!” She heard Rush shouting from behind her. She turned to look but couldn’t see him for the snow. Before she knew it, his hands were around her, lifting her off the ground and pulling her into the woods behind them, retreating. She wanted to protest, to tell him to go back so they could fight, but she was in too much pain to argue.

They walked a bit in the freezing snow until they came upon a small cabin in the woods. It looked abandoned.

“Stay here, I’ll go check it out.” Rush whispered as he leaned her against a tree. It wasn’t like she had much of a choice, the blood was now pouring down her leg and the wound burning.

He returned shortly after and helped her into the cabin, he started a fire in the fireplace by smashing a wooden chair, it was the only thing that wouldn’t be wet form the snow. He pulled her close to the fire to warm her up.

“What the hell happened out there?” He asked.

“I-I don’t know. There were bombs going off and before I knew it there was gunfire everywhere. Do you think we’re safe out here?”

“Maybe, snow’s coming down pretty hard, it should cover our tracks.” He sat down beside her and pulled her wounded leg across his lap.

“Gotta get a look at this, make sure it didn’t hit anything important.” Her heartbeat increased at his closeness, she knew she should be focusing on everything else going on around her, but she couldn’t help it.

Rush grabbed the hole in her pants leg and ripped it open, exposing the bloodied skin beneath. His cold hands traced over her skin making her shiver.

“Looks like it just grazed you.” He grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped it around her leg, covering the wound the best he could. He looked down at her, the way she was shaking, assuming she was cold.

He grabbed her waist and pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her, trying to give her some of his warmth. She continued to tremble in his embrace, not because of the cold, but because of the sinful thoughts she was having in this moment. She sat in his lap in silence, not sure what words would come out of her mouth she thought it was best to keep quiet.

The fire started to heat up the small cabin after a bit, both of them were burning up, but neither made any indication of wanting to move from their position. She finally relaxed her body in his arms and rested her head on his shoulder.

“How’s the leg?”

“Hurts like a motherfucker, but I’ll live.” She spoke, her breath hot against his neck.

“You shouldn’t have kept pushing forward by yourself.” He scolded her.

“Couldn’t help it, I’m a hero.” She smirked.

“A dumbass is more like it.”

She laughed in his arms, how he loved to hear her laugh, it wasn’t too often it happened, but when it did it was heavenly. She instinctively nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck, having a perfect view of that damned tattoo, she had dreamed of being able to graze her teeth over it for so long, he wouldn’t notice a small kiss, would he? Before she could tell her body ‘no’, she inched forward and gently touched her lips to his skin, he tensed for a moment as he realized what she was doing. She placed a few more light kisses on his neck until he couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed her chin and lifted her face up to meet his gaze before leaning down and kissing her softly, as their lips touched, he deepened the kiss. His lips moved demandingly against hers, his tongue slipped between her lips as she moaned into his mouth, for so long she’d wanted this, fantasized about it. She placed one hand on the back of his neck, pulling him closer, she was desperate for more.

He wanted better access to her, so he laid her down in the floor, moving over top of her body and settling himself between her legs. He kissed her lazily, letting his lips linger over hers, his hands itched to touch her body. He unzipped her jacket, which she was grateful for, it was stifling in there even before they started making out. His hands started at her hips, squeezing them and moving up her sides, sliding underneath her shirt.

His cold hands on her heated flesh were exactly what she needed, he broke his lips away from hers as he kissed a trail down her neck and chest. His hands continued to travel upward, pushing her shirt up as he went, finally exposing her breasts underneath. His hands cupped the soft skin as his thumbs moved over her nipples, causing them to harden under his touch. She titled her hips up against him at the feeling, begging for more. Of course, Rush obliged and ducked his head down, taking one of her nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it before giving it a quick bite. She arched her back and moaned at his actions.

“Rush, please…” She begged.

“Be patient, Cap.” He spoke as he dragged his tongue down her skin, over her stomach leading exactly where she wanted him.

He made short work of unbuttoning her pants and slipping his hand beneath her panties, between her legs. He smirked at how wet she had already become at just his simple touch, his fingers moved between her slickness, slowly pushing into her entrance. She gasped and bucked her hips up into his hand. He added another finger and slowly moved them in and out of her, pressing the palm of his hand against her clit. He moved back up and kissed her, determined to capture every moan she let slip.

“Fuck… Rush…” She whimpered into his mouth, as she ground her hips against his palm, he smiled against her lips at her neediness.

He abruptly removed his hand from her, desperate to feel her come undone around him. She quickly pulled her shirt over her head and removed her pants. She sat up on her knees and pushed his jacket off his shoulders, kissing him frantically. He undid his belt and tried to remove his pants but before he could she had pushed her hand into his boxers and gripped his length, stroking him firmly a few times before pulling him free. She didn’t want to waste anymore time in waiting for him to undress completely, she climbed into his lap as he sat on his knees, positioning herself over him and slowly sinking down.

They both gasped in unison at the feeling, she wrapped her arms around his neck, holding onto him and pulling herself closer. She kissed his neck again, finally getting to graze her teeth over his tattoo, causing him to let out a low groan. She continued to nip and lick at his skin as he began to move within her slowly, his hands splayed across her back as he held her against him. Her nails scraped down the back of his neck as he rocked his hips into her, pushing her closer to her release.

He moved to lay her back down on the ground, no longer able to hold back, he needed to go deeper, harder and this position was not accommodating to that. He grabbed her hips as he thrust into her, able to fill her completely now, she writhed and moaned beneath him, her hands gripping his forearms. He could feel her getting close as she tightened around him.

“Come on, Cap, let go.” He said through gritted teeth, needing her release as much as she did.

She trembled beneath him as her orgasm pulsed through her body, broken syllables of his name and curse words left her lips as she panted. He continued thrusting into her until he found his own release, pulling out from her and spilling it into the floor between her legs. Both of them breathing heavily and glistening with sweat.

“Damn, been wanting to do that for a while now.” He panted.

“Me too.” She was still out of breath. Rush smiled as he leaned down and kissed her lips tenderly.

[immovable-force-archive]

send me a ship // @motherfucking-username​

1- Who is the most affectionate?

Tough one right out of the starting gate! Both of these two can be pretty prickly. I could see Kew being the one to initiate more often, but Hank does look like he gives the best hugs, so who knows tbh.

2- Big spoon/Little spoon?

Kew as big spoon, if only so Hank doesn’t have to stick his face in Kew’s carpet of gross hair.

3- Most common argument?

These two love bickering, honestly. I think over time as they get more comfortable around each other (as comfortable as you can get when you’re possessed), their arguments become more playful than like real arguments. Still, Kew taking control and doing something stupid is probably a thing that never really stops happening. Or Kew meeting up with Loqero while Hank’s asleep.

I am assuming this ship meme is with them both in the same body right

4- Favorite non-sexual activity?

Watching movies or trying new foods. Or trying old foods! Kew always loves his milkshakes.

5- Who is most likely to carry the other?

Hank is always carrying Kew, technically. Kew would love picking up Hank during dreams and carrying him around though, just to show-off. I’m guessing Hank would hate that though.

6- What is their favorite feature of their partner’s?

I think Kew starts out thinking Hank is kinda ugly, but grows to like a lot about him, so this is a tough question. He likes his hair (because it reminds Kew of his own hair), likes his eyes, likes the tattoo on his chest. The tattoo might take the ‘favorite’ prize, but it’s close between those three.

7- What’s the first thing that changes when they realize they have feelings for the other?

Things get waaaaaaay more awkward.

8- Nicknames? & if so, how did they originate?

Kew loves nicknames, but that’s mostly because he sucks with names really bad. He doesn’t tend to give nicknames to people with one-syllable names like Hank. Early on, he calls Hank things like “Stupid Human” (or just Human), “Host”, (in narration), “Hank Lieutenant” (thinking that’s his last name and not learning his actual one for awhile), and “Hanky.” I think he sticks with ‘Hank’ for the most part, but ‘Stupid human’ still pops up every once in awhile.

9- Who worries the most?

Hank, I think? Or maybe he doesn’t give enough of a shit to, I dunno. Most of Kew’s worrying is for his own life when Hank’s thoughts start spiraling.

10- Who remembers what the other one always orders at a restaurant?

Hank.

11- Who tops?

Lmao

12- Who initiates kisses?

In dreams? Kew, maybe.

13- Who reaches for the other’s hand first?

Again, Kew, maybe?

14- Who kisses the hardest?

ffFFFFFF Uhhhh Haaaaank...? Or maybe Kew if he’s bein’ a desperate boi?? Oh god I have no clue don’t kill me Ellie

15- Who wakes up first?

Depends on your definition of ‘wakes up first.’ Technically Kew wakes up in the middle of the night to eat sticks of butter but does that count as waking up first, or last?

16- Who wants to stay in bed just a little longer?

Definitely Hank.

17- Who says I love you first?

Uuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh shrug emoji haven’t gotten that far

18- Who leaves little notes in the other’s one lunch? (Bonus: what does it usually say?)

Kew. He probably leaves little notes on everything.

19- Who tells their family/friends about their relationship first?

Gonna take a wild guess and say neither of them, because Kew has no living family/friends (except Loqero, who I guess might find out but I dunno if Kew would tell him) and Hank can’t exactly say he’s dating the demon that lives in his head. Not unless he wants to get wheeled into an insane asylum.

20- What do their family/friends think of their relationship?

Nothing because they never find out lmao

21- Who is more likely to start dancing with the other?

Kew, he’d dance and sing along to songs in Hank’s music collection at night, and he’d suck at it. It quickly becomes one of the things Kew isn’t allowed to do at night because Hank doesn’t want to wake up tired and sore the next morning.

22- Who cooks more/who is better at cooking?

Hank, because Kew is Klueless about anything except what foods taste good. Unless he has to cook a soul, I guess.

23- Who comes up with cheesy pick up lines?

Dunno if I could see either of them doing that, but Kew might as a joke. Maybe some bad devil pick-up lines that don’t really translate to humans well.

24- Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear during inappropriate times?

Isn’t that all Kew does?

25- Who needs more assurance?

Both of them probably, they’re both disasters. I’d probably say Hank here if I had to pick.

26- What would be their theme song?

Carry On by fun. is pretty much perfect for them. I also like Shallow by Lady Gaga.

27- Who would sing to their child back to sleep?

Kew. He’d sing Devilian lullabies.

28- What do they do when they’re away from each other?

Not a problem with this ship B)

Nah just kidding. When Hank’s asleep, Kew relishes his time in control, usually staying in the house and examining Hank’s stuff, playing with Sumo, sampling things in the fridge, trying to craft things out of whatever’s lying around, texting Hank questions for the morning-- He does a lot. A lot that’s against the rules Hank wants him to follow at night, but a lot.

Kew usually ‘sleeps’ through Hank waking up and the first couple hours he’s at work, so who knows what Hank does them in his rare time of silence.

29- one headcanon about this OTP that breaks your heart.

These two are more transparent with their issues and insecurities than most other duos, just because of the nature of their relationship. So when they fight, they can go straight for the throat. The argument thread is still pretty heartbreaking because they’re both just angry and trying to hurt each other. I remember OOC, we were pretty convinced that was going to end really badly. I think Kew lives in fear that there will be one day that things are too bad, that Hank gets too good at fighting him off, and there’s nothing he can do to stop Hank from killing them both. That in the end, their relationship isn’t really equal, and Hank holds the ultimate trump card. Kew can’t trust Hank, yet has no choice in the matter. It gets one step worse if Hank tries to do something to get rid of Kew, like an exorcism or something else, regardless of if it works or not.

Also this reply breaks my heart every single time, because it shows the exact opposite. In some way, they do both have the power to ruin the only things the other cares about, and have to live painfully aware of it.

30- one headcanon about this OTP that mends it.

I love the idea of them building up a strong bond, enough that if something happened to Kew (his soul got ‘captured’, still connected to Hank but just trapped somewhere), Hank would try to rescue him. ‘Fixing their situation’ gradually stops being ‘Get Kew out of my head and make sure he stays dead.’ And the same goes for Kew, who probably figures out that he could eat Hank’s soul at any time to take full control of his body, but ultimately lies and hides that fact. He doesn’t want to do it, but also can’t quite admit (for awhile) that it’s because he cares about Hank too much.

Hank probably figures that out anyway.

[wowfuckingnerd]

What happens in happytown: Shake Junt pt 1

So we're on our way to this place called Bangers, this really gross strip joint in the meadowlands district. Me and Finnick know this whole thing is guaranteed to go sideways and I'm shakin' when we pull into the parking lot and find a few mean lookin' pred mammals standin' outside waiting. For us.

Finn's already lookin' at their guns, the cars, counting exits. I don't know how he can do it, and he's so fucking calm about it.

"Those two on the left only got pistols. Guys in the middle with the rifles aren't carrying any more magazines with em."

"Right."

"Get the bombs from the dresser. I wanna see that rhino with the shotty burn."

Right Finnick is goin' to his dark place like he does when he gotta kill mammals. Anyways so I go over the seat and start diggin' in Finn's underwear drawer for a few cocktails he had stashed back here. "So who are those guys?" I ask him.

"Why we killin' em you mean?"

"Yeah."

"Guy who runs Bangers stole from the bossmammal. Guess he forgot Mr. Big owns this place."

So that's it. I usually don't ask questions when it comes to work: Mr. Big has money and that's all I gotta know but something was weird about this job. This was public.

"It's fuckin 2:30 on a saturday so the whole area's busy and as soon as we open up there's gonna be a panic. You ready for that?"

Finnick doesn't answer right away. He's staring at the mammals in the parking lot just thinking of how many ways he could kill them.

"Honestly it's what the boss wants. If I gotta shoot a few cops too so be it."

"What about Wilde?"

That shut him up. Hard as Finn likes to act, Nick is still his friend.

"I won't shoot Nick."

"Or Hopps?"

I won't shoot her. I won't shoot at cops, that's Finnick's thing but god I definitely don't wanna shoot Judy. Or even point a gun at her. Now that I'm thinking about it I don't wanna be here at all if she is.

The first gunshot rings out and the windshield shatters. I about jump out of my fur, Finnick pours a baggie of cocaine on his face and just jumps through the fucking window and opens fire on the idiots that dared fire upon his precious van.

I'm pressed back against the seat, hiding below the dash. I peek out into the parking lot and let out a few shots in this wolf's direction while I'm lookin' for my lighter. I could hear the round hit him, kinda this squishy sound. 

Finnick is just tearing these guys up, it's intense. For a guy so short, he's a fuckin' tank! Dude's dodgin' left and right and under and he's got his teeth around this guy's throat and I can't even keep up with it. 

("You feel that? My car felt that!")

So I throw the cocktail as hard as I could at that rhino with the shotgun. He screams, Finnick laughs, I haul ass across the parking lot to take cover behind something else. Good thing I'm so small, no? 

Now the mammals from the club are screaming and running, but of course they're running directly into our line of fire like the stupid fuckin' grazers they are so I use the moment to find a better place to throw this bomb. Figures these dumb sheep would hire some preds to keep their enemies scared, now that I think about it.

"Yeah you better scream!"

I heard Finnick shout, says the lot's clear and we're moving inside. By now the cops are on their way but we got a job to do. I follow him and his trail of carnage into the club. Bloody trails and smears, mammals on the ground literally takin' their last breath as I'm steppin' over them. I'm trying not to gag honestly because Finnick has really outdone himself this time. He's got this guy on the floor, kickin' him in his face.

"You remember the garden, motherfucker?"

What? But he keeps going.

"Fuck. You. And your. Family!"

He shouts, accentuatin' each syllable with another kick.

Last thing I hear him say as he's rushin' through the door into the club:

"We got em, Dave."

The fuck is Dave?

[floralmarsupial]

The life and times of the coolest kid to survive the apocalypse.

A-side -

I’m Bo Yo (Bo Burnham)// Rhyme O’ Clock (Wordburglar)// Ass to Mouth (Busdriver) // Obama Mic Drop (The Gregory Brothers) // Very Super Famous (Jon Lajoie) //  Hurt Feelings (Flight of the Concords) // A Mask of My Own Face (Lemon Demon) // Tic Toc (Mother Mother) // Critical Hit (MC Frontalot) 

B-side - 

Spent Gladiator 2 (The Mountain Goats) // Crows 1 (Aesop Rock) // Pepper (Butthole Surfers) // Sweet Dudes and Sweet Ladies (Defiance, Ohio) // Burn Fetish (Eyedea & Abilities) // One More Time With Feeling (Regina Spektor) // Proactive Evolution (WHY?) //Small Red Boy (AJJ) // Trouble (Imagine Dragons) // Bruh... (Lil’ Dicky)

Spotify Link//Youtube Link

Lyrics under readmore (along with warnings for bolded songs)

I’m Bo Yo - (Explicit, mentions of Menstruation, g*psie slur)

'Cause I'm Bo, yo, And I'm the greatest rapper ever, And I'll weather your weather whether you think I'm clever or not, Think you're better, you're not, Don't need a sweater, I'm hot, I'm a real G that can really find your G-spot. Woah, yeah... oh, but I'm inadequate. Have I gotten that point across yet? How original

Rhyme’ O Clock -

Greenwich mean top-notch digital When you kids talk sweet, slop songs pitiful Gag me with spoon Barf not minimal Plaque, it sticks to all your syllables Staying simple for the safest, civilian Syllabubs For the simian serious Motherfuck 

Ass To Mouth-  (Explicit)

 If you think I've eaten my fill, well you've heard wrong My stomach's only filled with bird song My body's waste is like precious metals So I walk around thinking I'm extra special 

Obama Mic Drop-

Lets not pretend I picked this song for the lyrics.

Very Super Famous- (Explicit, AIDS ment, Rape Ment,)

If a lot of people know who you are, it means you're a talented artist In order to be super-famous, you have to be the most smartest When I'm on the red carpets or at celebrity parties Fat kids are on my dick like hot bitches on Smarties

Hurt Feelings -

I got hurt feelings, I got hurt feelings They’re all lined up to watch that movie “Maid in Manhattan” Have you even been told that your ass is too big? Have you ever been asked if your hair is a wig? Have you ever been told you’re mediocre in bed? Have you ever been told you’ve got a weird-shaped head? Has your family ever forgotten you and driven away? Once again, they forgot about J Were you ever called “homo” ‘cuz at school you took drama? Have you ever been told that you look like a llama?

A Mask of My Own Face-

I'd wear it to a hoedown, and I'd dance with all the belles And none of them would know that I was secretly myself I'd rob my apartment and I wouldn't give a damn I'd blame it on the person that nobody knows I am I look into my eyeholes, what do I see? Look into my eyeholes, what do you see? I look into my eyeholes and what do I see? A handsome motherfucker motherfucking looking back at me

Tic Toc-

Big hand, little hand, no hand, slow hand Sitting in my hand is the sand of a shattered hour glass And I throw these grains of sand into the wind and laugh And I do not care just what they'll have to say about that Cuz the sand man told me, there's no use in listening

Critical Hit -

Let me simply tell you something: the living is good up on the top of the top-ten lists where I just stood. In my fist, where the disc should be brandished like a trophy, instead I'm holding onto the prize possession: self-loathing. And you know life's sweet if you can sing about that, like I rolled nat 20, double damage on the track. 

Spent Gladiator 2 -

Like a village on the steppe About to get collectivized When the men emerge with rifles from the haystack Everybody looks surprised Like the mice in the forgotten grain Way up on the top shelf Like someone who's found a small town to escape to Keeps one eye on his abandoned, former self

Crows 1 -

They piggy back the tombs of all your deadest friends and neighbors By the getty image, green-cheese moon Dead-of-winter shit, graveyard tchk! tchk! Shifter shit, brother was a face card Crown like a heart-shaped tunnel of woven branches leaning in over his hydro-plaining pace car chase... Wait up let me isolate the bass more

Pepper - (Violence ment)

I don't mind the sun sometimes, the images it shows I can taste you on my lips and smell you in my clothes Cinnamon and sugary and softly spoken lies You never know just how you look through other people's eyes

Sweet Dudes and Sweet Ladies -

tomorrow might be the day I die so I want, or rather must, confide all these things I did, or did not, try to hide. well, if boys are boys and girls are girls. then boys and girls are sometimes confused and I am confused most all the time.

Burn Fetish - (Rape ment.)

Tie me down till my sweet nothing's sour I screwed up trying to squeeze 65 minutes from an hour Outnumbered by such a large amount No wonder why we lost the battle, the counter-culture can't count

One More Time With Feeling -

You thought by now you'd be So much better than you are You thought by now they'd see That you had come so far

And the pride inside their eyes Would synchronized into a love you've never known So much more than you've been shown 

Proactive Evolution-

Feeling for an exit with Fingers stiff as branches Of a tiny bonsai birch Bark falling off in strips Leaving nude wood, white So bright in raw scar-glow Like a fresco angel, except Starved and deranged though And for an exit, trying Through blindness and time If I wasn't when I am

Small Red Boy -

I let my horns grow longer, I observed my skin get redder My soul became a hammer, I started to feel better My hatred turned to pity, my resentment blossomed flowers My bitter tasted candy, my misery was power The truth in me grew brighter, my nature and my nurture No more shame, no more fear, no more dread I am, I am, I am, I am the truth

Trouble -

I took a photograph of me When I was only nineteen I looked a little lost at sea I keep trying to find me

Bruh...- (Explicit)

I'm taking time to do it right, it's like a soda pour Cause we ain't loving all you bitches like we spoken for Damn, packing the van, wagging the man, cracking the ma'am Packing the stands, had them clapping they hands Tagging they Grams, Manhattan was ham Slapping the fans, playing having the plan Fans rapping the jams, sagging my pants You see the type of shit I do on the track? Hot shit, like I poop in the jacket Won't mack your bitch, but yo, I'm bout to come and mack your clique Your whole friend group fucking with Dick (no hetero)

[numbuh101]

black cards

Bandai are hoping you will spend 100's of dollars on their newest merchandise, _.   The real reason why people hate anything past Tamers is_   The 02 kids are missing because_   What came pouring out of the sky at summer camp, 1999?_   The best thing ever produced by Toei is _.   The worst thing ever produced by Toei is _.   I'm going to shove __ up my ass.   What's the newest menace unleashed from Digiquartz?_   The newest fetish surrounding digimon porn artists consists of __.   What digisee, digihear, digiknow was coming?_   A new chosen child appears, what's their crest?_   My body _ but my heart _   Why can't Hackmon have any Gatchmonaka?_   What's under Angemon's mask?_   Who can count backwards from ten?_   My Applidriver asked me if I'm a _   _mon   Presenting _, the rejected fifth Dark Master.   I hate that _ got edited in the dub.   What’s my crest?_   KNIFE OF _   It turns out that Akiyoshi Hongo is actually _.   What’s in the secret porn folder on Koushiro’s laptop?_   I’m not comfortable with this new Jogress between _ and _.   What’s the biggest deterrent to hitchhiking?_   Digimon, Digital Monsters, Digimon are _.   Speaking of _, I dont see Agumon with you.   What caused Leomons death this time?_

white cards

The censorship of citramon   Bad animation.   The dark ocean.   Pronouncing Ichijouji as "Ichijooji".   Pokemon vs. Digimon wars.   The world being destroyed but keeping its railway lines completely intact.   Bonding with someone by beating the shit out of them.   Fucking up your digimon so badly that it becomes an eldritch skeletal mess.   Punching God.   Kokomon's tone-deafness.   Jintrix card art.   Bara digimon.   Gaomon driving a boat with boxing gloves.   Terriermon dressed up as a human baby.   Terriermon's jokes.   The power of friendship.   The art on the DVD/VHS cover for Digimon: The Movie.   Renamon's GEM figure tiddies.   Koromon shitting on absolutely everything.   Marcus' hot dad   another fucking royal knights plot   crest of swag   Winning with the power of love, friendship, and all those other crests   a sea of kuramon   spending an entire weeks paycheck on a GEM figure   Coachmon losing his CGI.   Beelzemons brooklyn accent   Humanoid Digimon.   Seeing Andromon's naked flesh fully rendered in 3D.   Ship-baiting in tri.   The Digimon Frontier english opening.   Disney censoring Kouki's lip piercing.   Kurata willingly being vored by Belphemon.   Digimon AMVs.   Attacking during evolution.   The internet.   The animators taking the time to draw a dick on Takato while biomergeing.   Myotismon's aesthetics.   The soundtrack for Digimon: The Movie.   The stretched out syllables of "DIGI-ARMOUR ENERRRRRGIZE".   Angela Anaconda.   Suggestive art of Angewomon with 12,173 favourites on deviantART.   "Anything past season 3 was a mistake"   Fanart reposts.   Ridiculously priced merch imports.   Actually thinking Ophanimon is better than Magnadramon.   Guilmon bread.   Witnessing your father becoming god.   Kurata calling himself a digimon otaku.   Taichi's hair.   Leomon dying. AGAIN.   this isnt a response, leomon just died I want you to acknowledge this   gatchmonka   Afro guy shouting "NOOOO" for the fifth goddamn time this week   Angelamon   Angelamon   Koushirous soulless eyes   Hating Kurata with a burning passion   Fox Kids commercials   L Corp   “I already know the results of your future!”   Fox Kids dub   DIGI-KNOW IT WAS COMING?   DIGI-HEAR   DIGI-SEE   A snobby, elitist Sorato shipper   A jaded, bitter Taiora shipper.   Koushirou "Izzy" Izumi   Jyou "JOOOOO" Kido   Sora Takenouchi   Takeru "T.K." Takaishi   Hikari "Jesus" Yagami   Mimi Tachikawa   Yamato "Matt" Ishida   Taichi "Tai" Kamiya   swearing to god you're not a furry, you just like digimon   Crest of being a bitch   that goddamn hinata clone   leomon's hot lion nipples   Celebrating Takeru & Hikari's innocence by drawing them having dirty sex.   the 02 epilogue   Nice friends you got there, Davis   Yamato's astronaut career   going to a decent college or buying Digimon merch   Buying Vintage Digimon merch off eBay.   Having a strong opinion about Tailmon’s Ultimate form.   Pretending you took a shit in someone’s van.   Smirking at this season’s dramatic Leomon death.   Signing a petition forcing the writers to make your ship canon.   Clicking an egg on some website while thinking you have control over anything in life.   An annoying pipsqueak voiced by Derek Stephen Prince.   An Angewomon/LadyDevimon fight that’s just sex.   Some nonsense involving the Holy Stones.   Singing Butter-Fly at the top of your lungs.   Saban.   Toei.   Saving two goddamn worlds with cuddly plushie monsters.   Turning against your friends on the advice of a nefarious talking tree.   A second-rate Pokémon ripoff.   Yet another goddamn Vamdemon incarnation.   Moving freely between Japan and America as the plot dictates.   A singing monkey that tries to conquer the world.   Takeru’s collection of terrible hats.   Hooking up with the bass player.   Goggles.   Caring more about who’s going to fuck than the actual struggle to save the world.   Taichi’s sad, awkward, inevitable Christmas Eve at a love hotel with Jun Motomiya.   Forcing your Digimon to evolve so you can get laid.   Proving your wisdom and maturity by jumping on a rampaging Digimon’s back.   Leading every wild Digimon in America to central Manhattan.   Michael’s smarmy white ass.   A douchebag who picks up hitchhikers to flirt with ten-year-old girls.   The Dark Ocean.   Punching the fuck out of the Digimon Kaiser.   That episode where Deep Ones wanted to bang Hikari.   Being a motherfucking astronaut.   A bigger BlackWargreymon.   Staging an international crisis to hook up with hot European digidestined.   PTSD flashbacks of a broken cell phone.   Joe’s imaginary girlfriend.   The inevitable attraction of two beautiful people who never speak to each other.   Hiroaki Ishida.   Trapping two guys in a ferris wheel cabin in hopes they’ll make out.   Baking in bikinis.   The Digimental of pulling a game-breaking evolution out of Daisuke’s ass.   Crotch missiles.   Feeling Sora’s love.

[thunder0-0sage]

Summerbolt (manga script) - chapter 4

CHAPTER 4: NEW STUDENT

 We see Seiren on the cover, stretching out his fist, where his four rings form the word ‘king’, smiling with great ferocity while being surrounded by many cute girls, hugging him and looking at the pervert with love.

‘Constantly surrounded by gorgeous babes, our ‘king’ is looking for a queen that can steal his heart! Or NOT!!’

  Yuki Iceflame is seen in a school uniform, looking aside from shyness, blushing and pulling her skirt down as much as possible with her one hand, holding it with the other one around the elbow, standing in front of a black desk where her name’s written.

‘We have a new student, everyone! It’s time for Yuki’s fight for survival to begin in the most dangerous environment – ‘Sunbird’ High school!!’

Yuki: ‘-It’s a pleasure to meet you, everyone … I-I’m Yuki Iceflame … and I look forward to working with all of you, so please, take good care of me!’

Everyone from the class: ‘-Welcome aboard, Yuki!!! Let’s get along from now on!!’

The baby doll then goes ahead and sits on one of the desks closer to the black board. We hear a brief summary of what’s happened so far by Yuki after that.

Yuki: ‘-So, just to give you guys some information. Ever since I arrived in Deckstoru, all kinds of crazy things have happened to me and my friends, Hikaru and Seiren. After fighting an unknown enemy force we wind up in jail, we were later freed and had to fight the haters that didn’t approve of our actions. That didn’t go so well but with the help of many supporters of our kind, the deviants, and Hikaru and Seiren’s families we managed to hold off the royal army and the deviant haters’ attack, forcing them to retreat and let us live in peace. I started living with the Summerbolts afterwards and a few days later, I was enrolled in the only deviant High school in the region – ‘Sunbird’, so now it’s time for my first day in school!!’ (the class teacher, Tenji Line, stands behind the desk and gives a sign to everyone to stay quiet)

Tenji: ‘-Everyone, please, can you keep calm for at least a second? Let’s create a proper atmosphere for Yuki so that she can get used to things around here faster, shall we? Now, we’re already aware that Suru (a combination of the first syllable from Hikaru’s last name and the last syllable from his first name, pronounced as ‘Saru’) and Sele (a combination of the first syllable from Seiren’s first name and the last syllable from his last name, pronounced as ‘Seil’) are something like our local celebrities. The same counts for you as well, Yuki. (everyone from the class starts shouting and whistling at them as Hikaru roars against them with a comical angry face, Seiren bows and then waves to his fans with a smile and Yuki looks in different directions from shyness, blushing even more) We’re in school now, however, and fame doesn’t matter here at all. Your abilities are what matters. As we already know, you use an ice deva, very rare in our school, which automatically makes you very valuable for any school activity. Please, think carefully before you decide which club you want to join. I can personally recommend the one in which Hikaru and Exo from our class are. Try … avoiding contact with the rest of the boys, whenever possible …’

Seiren: ‘-That’s not fair at all, sensei!! How exactly are these two better than the rest of us, huh?!’ (half of Tenji’s face is in shadow at the time while veins start forming there)

Tenji: ‘-Look, Sele, just because you stopped some random soldiers …

(his arm becomes several times longer, launching to Seiren as it’s enlarged fist smashes the pervert in the wall behind him and then Tenji’s destructive angry face is seen) … DOESN’T MEAN I WON’T SMASH SOME BRAINS IN YOUR SKULL IF YOU KEEP ON ACTING LIKE AN IDIOT!!!!’ (his arm returns its original length and his fist – to its original size after which the class teacher sighs, calming himself)

Seiren: ‘-Y-yes, sir …’ (falls from the crater in the wall while Yuki is comically puzzled, observing the situation)

Yuki: ‘-Looks like everyone in this school is scary, as well.’

Later on, we see how all the students from ‘Sunbird’ are eating in the school’s canteen and fights are raging in several places, through which Yuki tries to pass unharmed and without losing any food, successfully reaching the table where the six boys from her class are sitting, joining them.

The moment she sits on her chair, Vega Waren jumps in front of her, holding a bottle of ‘Jack Willshire’ (the main type of alcohol manufactured in Deckstoru, similar to the whiskey on Earth but having a rather purplish color and way stronger) in each hand, with a wide smile on his face.

Vega: ‘-What up, girl?! This is an official welcome from the boy group of our class! I’m Vega Waren! Would you like a drink?’ (puts one of the bottles on the table, pushing it closer to the baby doll who shakes her head with an awkward smile and a little confusion)

Yuki: ‘-No, thanks. Are you even allowed to bring any alcohol in school? And aren’t you underage?’ (the rest of the boys sigh while Vega looks around the canteen with a challenging smile)

Seiren: ‘-Many have tried to take those bottles away from him but none have succeeded. It’s just practically impossible.’ (important note: Vega is a very serious alcoholic with many years of experience)

King Orsa pushes the drunken bastard aside, standing in front of Yuki with an equally wide smile.

King: ‘-Hi there, Yuki! I’m King, King Orsa! By the way, do you work out? (shows her his plate, filled with quite a different type of food from what everyone around him is having) If you are, this stuff here will help you build up a tremendous muscle mass in no time and besides, they’re very tasty!! (starts eating, stuffing his mouth with huge quantities of food, disgusting Yuki and the other boys to a maximal level while the baby doll shakes her head with an awkward smile once again) I just can’t get enough of them!!! It’s too bad you don’t work out, honestly. You’re in pretty good shape but we can always be better, right?’ (important note: King is a maniac on many subjects but above all else, on fitness and eating huge amounts of food)

Exo Drazz stands in front of our baby doll afterwards, smiling slightly while she’s observing with horror how Vega is drinking and King is eating like an animal behind his back.

Exo: ‘-Hey, Yuki! I’m not good at stuff like working out and drinking lots but if you need something to be fixed, then I’m your man, Exo Drazz!!’(Yuki nods with a smile while Hikaru hugs Exo over the shoulder)

Hikaru: ‘-Exo here is our techno-genius. You’d love to have him on your team, Yu.’ (important note: Exo is extremely smart but a spineless coward at the same time)

Yuki: ‘-It’s a pleasure to meet you. So, you’re the smartest person in school?’ (Exo laughs, shaking his head and confusing Yuki)

Exo: ‘-I’m the best at technological stuff but the smartest guy in ‘Sunbird’ is Hikaru.’ (Yuki is ultra-shocked, hearing that)

Yuki: ‘-Seriously?!’

Tokura Braveheart pushes Hikaru and Exo aside.

Tokura: ‘-Yeah, He just tends to go crazy from time to time.’

Seiren, Vega, King, Exo: ‘-All the time!!!’

Hikaru: ‘-Hey!!!!’ (Tokura bows in front of Yuki, taking her hand and kissing it with a most proud and prestigious look)

Tokura: ‘-I am Tokura Braveheart and will always be at your service, my dear Yuki. Anything you need, feel free to tell me.’ (important note: Tokura acts like a ladies’ man all the time while actually he’s never kissed a girl and doesn’t know anything about women)

Yuki: ‘-Well … um … thanks but I think this is already too much for me.’ (Tokura grabs both of the baby doll’s hands with an extremely worried expression, making the other boys slap their faces with their palms, comically depressed)

Tokura: ‘-Why, honey, why? (looks at the boys’ five next to them) Was it them?! Did those brutes scare you to death?!! Not to worry, my dear!!! (steps ahead with an even prouder look) Your knight is here now and I won’t …’ (Vega and King smack him in the head from behind with comical angry faces, throwing him beyond the table and making Exo scream like a girl and Seiren to laugh his ass off)

Vega, King: ‘-IT’S YOUR BEHAVIOUR THAT’S SCARING HER, IDIOT!!!!’ (Tokura gets up in a second and light blue energy starts forming around him, terrifying the drunken bastard and the maniac along with his deadly expression)

Tokura: ‘-Looks like you forgot who you’re dealing with, weaklings …’ (a sphere of energy forms around the ladies’ man, becoming invisible in the next second and starting to push everything around it further back)

Exo: (with an unbelievably scared comical face, trembling and eating his nails with very high speed) ‘-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! TOKURA’S GONE INSANE AGAIIIIIIIIIIN!!!! WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE RIGHT HERE!!!!’ (Seiren hits him on the neck with a comical angry expression while Vega and King step up to Tokura with challenging smiles)

Seiren: ‘-Shut the hell up!! This guy ain’t nothing special!!’

King: ‘-Come on, kid!!! I’m gonna beat the crap out of your little ass now!!!’

Yuki: ‘-He’s your age.’

Exo: ‘-But he looks younger.’

Hikaru: ‘-What difference does that make?!?!’

Exo: ‘-Please, don’t yell at meeee!!!’ (King and Vega are thrown at two different tables after clashing with Tokura’s invisible energy shield head on, destroying the tables and the people there start fighting them)

Student 1: ‘-Can’t you let us eat at peace at least one time?!!?!’

King: ‘-Sorry, it wasn’t on purpose!!’ (fights rage there almost immediately as Hikaru jumps to stop them with a comical angry expression)

Hikaru: ‘-WOULD YOU BASTARDS STOP IT ALREADY?!!!?!’

Vega: ‘-Why don’t you try and stop us then?!!?!’

Seiren: ‘-Hold on, motherfuckers!!! Why did you leave me behind?!!!’ (also jumps to where the fight is and now everyone’s involved in it)

Hikaru: ‘-Damn idiot!!!!’ (Yuki is most comically puzzled while observing the situation)

Yuki: ‘-You’re all idiots, from what I’ve seen.’

Suddenly a hand draws Yuki and Exo in the fight as well and she’s comically shocked while he’s comically terrified, screaming like a girl again.

Student 2: ‘-Come on now, you two!! Your classmates are fighting over there, after all!!’

Yuki: ‘-Hey, hey, I don’t like where this is going one bit!!’

Exo: ‘-Please, I don’t want to fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight!!!!’

Hikaru hits one of the students while King throws Vega at Tokura, using Exo as a shield, after which Vega and Exo hit each other, rolling aside and Seiren throws a table at King, hitting Hikaru with a chair in the back.

Seiren: ‘-HA-HA!!! How do you like this, son?!’ (Hikaru envelopes his fist in lightning, smashing Seiren in another table, still comically angry while Vega is trying to get to the comically scared Exo, who’s trying to run away from the fight)

Vega: ‘-Oh, no, no, no!! You’re not going anywhere!!!’

Exo: ‘-Pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!! I want to liveeeeeeeeeeee!!!!’

King: ‘-Kid, I’m coming at you!!!’ (runs to Tokura who starts yelling at him with a comically angry and ashamed expression)

Tokura: ‘-Stop calling me ‘kid’!! It’s not my fault I look younger and I’m a bit shorter than you guys, okay??! Stop teasing me like that already!!!’

A part of the canteen explodes in red fireworks and Seiren launches himself on an explosive surf from there, heading straight for Hikaru, thrown aside by the clash between the maniac and the kid.

Seiren: ‘-YOU’RE GONNA DIE TODAY, SUMMERBOLT!!!!’ (Hikaru smiles in a most destructive way, jumping on an electric surf and heading for his eternal rival)

Hikaru: ‘-NOW WE’RE TALKING, BLACKSCALE!!!! LET’S SEE WHAT YOU’RE MADE OF!!!!’

Yuki is attacked by a rock deviant, creating an ice wall to block his fist while a water deviant attacks her from the side and she dodges his water shots, surprising him with a fast double kick, crushing him in the rock deviant and throwing both of them aside. She suddenly smiles, creating an icy surface beneath her feet and starts surfing across the battle, trying to fight with whoever she can get her hands on. Then we see her thoughts on the matter.

Yuki: ‘-This … this is actually quite fun … (Vega throws a student at her, after which Tokura pushes King to him and Exo is dragged in the fight between Hikaru and Seiren, everyone’s faces more comical than ever) … to be with everyone like this … (she head-butts the guy thrown to her when a girl catches her from behind, starting to burn her with her golden flames but then Exo is thrown at her, allowing the baby doll to escape, hitting a guy who’s about to hit Seiren with a table in the back, smashing him in the sealing) … to fight with them … (when the boy falls, she kicks him to another girl, tormenting Vega with many tentacles nearby, both of them fried by someone’s red lightning , comically puzzled) … to have fun with them … (Tokura is pushing back a few students at the same time, roaring and managing to crush them in the kitchen from where the cook jumps out, also joining the fray) … to just be here!!! (she throws another girl to Tokura, laughing loudly and with a huge smile, screaming to the sealing) I LOVE DECKSTORU!!!! I TOTALLY LOVE THIS TOWN!!!! (lots of smoke has risen around the canteen from all the fights and people start getting up and getting ready for round two with decisive smiles when they look at Yuki with great shock) Come on, you guys!! What, you tired already?! Cuz I’m ready to go a … (hits something, turning around and seeing that she’s spilled a girl’s drink all over her clothes, making her dreadfully mad) … gain.’ (Exo jumps ahead with a most comical terrified expression, trembling a lot)

Exo: ‘-IT’S ULURA NIGHTSONG!!!!! THE STRONGEST FEMALE DEVIANT IN THIS SCHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL!!!!!!!!!’ (green lasers start jumping around Ulura’s fingers, clenching her fists and looking at the scared baby doll with a most destructive face)

Ulura: ‘-You … pathetic insect … we’re gonna settle this right now! Better get ready to die!!!’

‘Trouble follows Yuki, no matter where she goes!! On her first day of school she went and pissed off the last person she would want to fight!!!’

 THE END

 Sorry for not posting anything these past two weeks, everyone. There were a lot of holidays and I just couldn’t find the time. I’ll make up for that now, though, by giving you three chapters in one week!! Also, I decided to draw at least some sketches of my characters to help you get a better idea of them. I’ll upload them by the end of the week.