#<- joke my kids hate because i say it Everytime i go through dirt

[theood]

So far for the vision board of what the fuck I mean by dad shoes I have the following:

[vampzzi]

can you pleaseee write emma mountebank x female reader, as a lesbian i never see my quarry girls get enough love 😭

REALIST RISK ﹒ ☆ Emma x Female reader.

cw; anon did not say if they wanted the story, to be smut,angst,fluff so by default story is an angsty story for jacob but suggestive and romantic for emma and reader, heated kissing and thats it, not beta-read I'm tired, reader is 19-21 (take your pick)

author's note ; As a lesbian I agree, there's not enough for these gals as I have a love / hate relationship with Emma but she's so hot it's just ughhh. So, I decided to write a fic about Emma leaving Jacob for reader because Lesbian Emma 4 the win!!

<3; 2.1K words

You were in the golf cart, the sun shined bright in the sky – headphones in your both ears as you rode through the rocky dirt path while your favorite song blasted in your ears, driving around the area lost in your thoughts. You had been a camp counselor for 2 years now and you were well found with Chris Hackett and Ryan and Jacob. You had nothing against Jacob, sweet guy..sweet…insecure guy. He was super possessive around Emma even around women, he felt as if anyone could take Emma away from him and all this insecurity and shit is what drove her off. Well not entirely, they’re still together and it angers you. 

You loved Emma first, you’d been friends with her in middle school for fucks sake! Her platform shoes clicked against the marble floor as her hair was down with a pretty hair clip, earthy colors and a pretty design attached to it. She had come over to you while you were sitting in the corner on your school chromebook playing some kind of game as she sat next to you and smiled “why are you sitting alone? She’d twirl in circles and do some pretty cool tricks but back to her question she’d ask you, the kids at this school were weirdos, like they made you uncomfy so you sat it out by being a loner.

You two talked from that point on as the school year went by, you sat at lunch together, walked to class together. Hung out after school, sneaking out of your house and running to her house in the cold rain as she laughed at you as you fell onto her floor with a wet plop “Aaaa! It’s a wet monster in my room” she’d fake yell out and chuckle as you’d grumble and laugh – she’d help you get up and get you a towel and wrap it around your body as you’d both exchange jokes about the situation. 

Her voice ringed through your head as her hands were on top of yours “You know.. We’ve been friends for a while and I want you to add this to your collection, to remember me when yk I’m worldstar famous streamer!” you chuckled at her and looked down at the same clip you’d seen her the first time you met her. You sighed out as you almost crashed, making a quick turn and thinking it’s best to go back to longue with the others. 

Jacob,jacob,jacob. You’d met him the first year of highschool posing as the cool kid with inhuman strength and funny humor, you’d crack at a few of his jokes as you saw him through the hall arm wrapped around Emma, this caused you two to be distant when he came into the picture they did a lot of things we use to do. It felt out of place almost like being played like a violin, my heart strings being played as it responded with awful tunes. You’d been supporting her from the start, helping her build her channel up the first video on her channel “emmanation” had 22K views and she couldn't thank you enough from that blast of a start. You loved Emma, you just wished things played out differently. It seems like she’d show no interest in women as everytime you mentioned her dating a girl, she’d respond no and giggle about it.

I can say my proper breakdown and I’m not afraid to share it is when you came to the prom before the summer as a third wheel and you had to the bathroom, to fix up your hair and give your mind some words of encouragement as you were drowning in your insecurity, anger and guilt. As you left to return to the booth you could scream, you should have. As Jacob’s lips were on Emma’s soft plump lips, their bodys shuffling back and forth, this was the beginning of their “summer fling” as you wanted to stomp off and cry. You didn't deserve this and you and everyone else knew it, as you fumed about it for days before she sent you a text “We should hang out at Summer camp, miss seeing your energy x” you smiled at the text as you put your phone down and started packing 2 weeks early before it was even time to go. 

But as time went on summer was over with, you’d waste all that time watching them being lovey dovey that you didnt even attempt to get with Emma, how stupid. Your bags were the first into the car as you were forgetful and didnt wanna go on a golf cart ride and forget them while riding, Mr.Hackett seemed pissed off as he slammed the hood of the car down and screamed “We can just stay here one more night until the morning.” 

Jacob suggested and Hackett growled “No!” grabbing his keys and grumbling a bunch of instructions to Ryan – Ryan responding with a quick “Yes sir” as Hackett smiled got into the car and said “be good, and keep the noise down for fuck sakes!” as he drove off until he couldn’t be seen. Jacob suggested a Party while everyone was in it but Ryan as he wanted to follow the rules and you wanted to understand the dude, Chris seemed shaken up and you guys could be in danger and they wanted to party? To hell with that.

Jacob gives Emma the instruction to sit still and be gorgeous and she rolls her eyes and laughs as your blood boils. He wants Emma to join him on his mission and she kindly declines as she says she needs the women's room and he dismisses her.

 You sneak off to see where she’s going as she goes to the doc and where the water moves back and forth, she sits on the dock and breaths slowly as you sit next to her and she looks up at you with a bright smile “Hey (name!!)” “Hey Emma, what’s up?” She tilts her head back and thinks “the usual, jacob. He won’t let me go, it was a summer fling. it's over now.” You listen to her rant about him as you let your feet dip into the cool water while she talks. “I just you know don’t want this energy on my shoulders, I wanna be able to carry my positive attitude around to everyone” “I understand you Emma.” 

She smiles and wraps her arms around you as you hug her back, she feels warm – nice to hug as you didn’t even notice you’d lay your head on your chest as you brought it up to her face and apologized “sorry, got in the moment’ she let out a small “it's alright” as you two looked at each other deep in the eyes, the moment felt way too serious, too into depth – too real.

Her lips laid on yours as you finally realized what was going on. You kissed her back as you two fought in the kiss as Emma slid her tongue into your mouth, swirling it around as you let her dominate your mouth holding onto her hips with a firm squeeze before pulling away. “I - I thought you weren’t into girls?” staying so quickly it’s slurred together as Emma runs her fingers over your lips. 

“That was in our Freshman year of Highschool Name, it’s different now.” You only nodded and planted another kiss to her lips as she accepted the kiss and kissed you back but loud footsteps interrupted the kiss as Jacob went down the stairs with a loud shout “WHAT THE FUCK DUDE?! Are you serious?” The rest of your friends came to see about the loud noises and you looked back at them, puffy lips, struggling to breath as it was enough evidence to see what had happened. 

 “That’s my fucking girlfriend you’re tonguing (name.)” “Jacob, I’m not your girlfriend, I belong to nobody — it was a summer fling that you need to get over” emma snapped at him as he looked breathless, tears running down his cheeks as he ran up the stairs past Dylan, shoving Nicks shoulder in the process and pushing him into Abi and she almost falls and he catches her “Sorry about that”. 

“It’s fine Nick” Abi regains her footing and looks at the both of you guys “Sooo, whats going on here” Ryan cuts off Abi before she can speak. “Whatever your imagination can come up with is what happens” Emma says with a smile as she looks back at you as you’re incredibly embarrassed “i - it just kinda happened, y’know?”  “Guess I can understand” Ryan said with a sly sink, oh how you wanted to slap the smirk off his face but you’d rather not. From that point on Jacob started being different around you, he was meaner, snickering at you and saying sly stuff under his breath until the sun and moon decided to switch places.

The fire roared bright and warm as the cool air chilled your skin – taking small sips from your drink as the members asked each other simple truth or dare questions, watching Ryan and Dylan kiss as you clapped them on and Dylan’s face was bright and warm. The game pretty much went to shit when it was Kaityln’s turn and Kat chose Emma and asked the truth or dare question and she immediately answered dare as Kaityln straightened her posture “Kiss me or Kiss (Name)” She said bluntly as her eyes shifted between her and you “This one’s super easy, I chose (name).” 

Jacob looked widen eyed in shock and horror at what his ears deceived him, he watched in silence as Emma made her way over to you – towering over you as her lips took yours for the second time that day, the kiss was long and eager as your eyes were widen and Jacob yelled for Emma to stop as she pulled away and sat down, you placed a hand over your lips. As Jacob knew he couldn't swing at a woman it’s unprofessional, not manly. But was crying over a girl who said it was over multiple times manly? He ended up running off again into the woods as Dylan said he’d go look for him and cheer him up.

“I hope this doesn't make me a bitch” and everyone looks at you even Emma, Kaityln responds “it doesn’t make you bitch, Jacob just needs to let go and move on. Emma’s not interested anymore and that's final” Everyone could agree on that and the game felt dead and odd without Dylan or Jacob so everyone called it a night and went back to the lounge, everyone sat down and talked about plans for tomorrow, discussing food, showering and cell phone life and everyone had a job to be done. The small meeting was dismissed and You and Emma were on cell phone duty and figuring out how to charge the phones as Dylan was taken off the job because he was too distracted on his phone that he ran it dead.

You were fine with it and the meeting was dismissed as you and Emma got up and Dylan raised an eyebrow “Where are you two going? Sneaking off to start a forest fire?” “No Dylan, we’re gonna sleep somewhere else for the night because I snore weird and I don’t need anyone hearing that” that was a straight light everyone fell for except Ryan and Kaityln as Ryan added on “But you’ve slept in my room and you never snored.” “It’s been colder lately Ryan, you know how my allergies are.” Now, that one was true. “Ah, you’re right. Goodnight then.” He put his headphones in and laid down snuggling to the blankets as you and Emma waved and wished everyone goodnight. You both quietly made your way through the halls searching through the closets and drawers to find a blanket and two pillows making a nice comfortable place to sleep far from them.

As you laid the covers and comforter down and tossed the pillows down, Emma took off her shirt and you side eyed her before looking away “What are you doing?!” “Getting comfortable” Yeah. Comfortable. Emma’s and your lips on each other again except this time, you were alone and comfortable. Back against the comforter and head on the pillow as Emma was on top of you – using your hands to plant your hands on her hips and draw patterns on them while she kissed you, she was shirtless this time, everything was a lot more intimate but you two decided to not go as far today. Maybe tomorrow when everyone would be out doing things like getting firewood,getting their bags back out the car and ect.

 Then you two would take it up a few more levels, until then just kissing and small neck kisses which she planted some kisses to your collarbone and neck, running her finger down your neck as she whispered “I love you” into your ear. Yep, Emma Mountebank was the one. The one you absolutely needed.

[milomaxxy]

I was never close with my grandmother. She was mean, and I didn't like how mean she was. As an adult, a couple years after she had passed I figured out why. She grew up in tough times, in a not-the-worst for the time but certainly-not-okay household, and her early adult years were horrible. She bounced from an abusive home to abusive relationships, and was a single mother in the late when she gave birth to my uncle in the late 1940s. She had several relationships that failed (for good reasons, usually bc the man was abusing her or her kids) and had more kids. Iirc she had 4 to 6 kids by the time she married her husband in the 1960s. Like I said, I wasn't close with her so I don't really know the details fully. By this point she was already cold, according to my father; but marrying her husband changed her entirely. This man was a horrible person who did horrible things I won't repeat. But something he did that makes me livid to no end is prevent her from ever telling her children her side of their heritage. She wasn't allowed to tell his stepchildren about their fathers (including my biological grandfather, who I still no nothing about). She wasn't allowed to talk about her parents or grandparents at all but especially in front of the children.

My parents had me in their 40s, so by the time I was born my grandma was in her 70s. I only knew her as mean and honestly abusive herself. Obviously I'm not excusing her behavior and actions, I just understand where she was coming from after learning about her more. I despised going to her house for the most part unless my cousins were over, bc she would be outright hateful to me and say I "couldn't take a joke".

But sometimes she'd talk about how her dad would braid thick strands of wild grasses into a stick and cleanse their home. They lived in an actual sod house at one point bc it's what they could afford, and she remembered how they would tamp the dirt down with their feet. Her grandfather lived with them in the sod house and taught her about different rocks, and developed her love of them (she had a Chyna cabinet dedicated to her rock collection). She talked about how her grandfather and father would get "stared at weird" and how her mother and her would go to town alone; this went right over my head as a child, I just assumed it was because they were hicks. She'd make calls around to family members everytime she'd hear an owl outside, and told everyone to be wary of owls. That was all she was really allowed to say until her husband died, and by that point she was beginning to experience dementia. The most anyone could get out of her in her later years about her parents (much less her grandparents) was that they weren't supposed to talk about it outside of the home.

I hate that I didn't get to learn more from her. I hate that I wasn't able to hear about my ancestors from her. I especially hate that it was because of her abusive husband that whole stories and family member's names came to an end. And even tho I didn't like her, it's heartbreaking that when she was finally free to tell she couldn't bc of alzheimers. The most I get is my father (who I spent years doubting until I could basically fact check him through as many resources as possible) telling me that his great-grandfather was a Cherokee man. That his great-grandmother cheated on her husband with him, was found out, and divorced immediately. She was excommunicated from her family, and got with the man she'd cheated with. I don't get their names, bc he doesn't know their names. He doesn't know their names bc a man who smelled like tobacco and sweat wouldn't let my grandma tell him.

I'm white-passing. I know it, I won't deny that at all. But I also won't deny how many times growing up in the sticks some random hick would tell me to "go to Oklahoma" (wtf) or ask me if I could smudge their house. I've been mistaken for Asian a weird number of times, and as an adult I've been told I'm "pretty dark for white" (which left me both nauseous and wondering wtaf that even means). I had to unlearn internalized racism for years, because I thought my blood quantum made me white and that I shouldn't try to be part of my community. I still find myself trying not to take up too much space, bc I worry that I'm overstepping. I worry about trying to learn about my heritage and culture without looking like some white person pretending their great-great-great-great-grandma was a Cherokee princess. It's a struggle I don't even know how to begin figuring out and yet I have fucking people acting like I'm a fascist bc I won't support democrats blowing up brown people over republicans blowing up brown people

[un2-verse]

BILLY — Kim Taehyung (2)

pairing: taehyung x f reader

genre: horror au, yandere au, saw/john kramer au

synopsis: News of a Sadistic Serial Killer nicknamed “Jigsaw” is spreading around town like wildfire… the nickname stemming from the puzzle piece he cuts from every victim’s body. No one knows who he’ll trap next but in a town full of delinquents and criminals, it could never be you. Right?

warnings: mentions of suicidal thoughs, abusive relationships, stalking etc. dont read if triggered. there are some ?? fucked up things in this but idk what to word them. but also mentions of self harm/self hating thoughts.

wordcount: 2.2k

a/n: unedited so pls forgive me for any mistakes and lmk if u want to be added to a taglist^^

series masterlist

part one part three

You’d spent a couple of hours in the café with Taehyung. Jimin popped over every now and then to talk with his best friend and to make sure you had everything you needed while there.

When you left, Jimin wrapped his arms around you as he bid his farewell, “It was lovely to meet you Y/N! Please, don’t be a stranger!” You simply nodded your head as you pulled away from the hug. You grinned back at him as he moved to Taehyung. You opened the door, carefully stepping outside to leave the boys with some privacy.

Once the door shut Jimin’s smile beamed, “so she’s the girl you’re always talking about, Flower? Right?”

“Yeah she is, thanks for that though man but, I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you later?”

Taehyung smiled as he made his way towards you, you looked up and he swore, he saw a hint of nervousness in your eyes, probably because it’s dark, he thought to himself. “Come on then, let’s get you home.” He held out his hand, you were quick to grab a hold of it. Taehyung intertwined your fingers as he tugged you back across the road, “it’ll take about twenty minutes, you gonna be alright to walk?” he glanced down to you.

Your heart warmed at the way his eyes smiled with him, “I’ll be fine, thank you.” He seemed happy enough with your answer as you fell into a steady rhythm. You felt a little conflicted, you may not know Taehyung well but he had an energy about him that made you wanna spill every secret you knew, you’d shared pointless stories while you were at the café, having learnt Taehyung was a family oriented person, he loved art and he was passionate about little subjects other people would deem small. Yet he had a warmth that you’d not seen in anyone else.

Fuck it, you thought, he’s shown nothing but kindness, you may aswell open upto him… atleast.

“I was in an abusive relationship.” Taehyung felt himself smirk but quickly wiped it from his face, he arched an eyebrow as he looked down to you, “it was my first too. It left me, fucked up, in a way. Not that I wasn’t already fucked up.” Progress. He squeezed your hand in reassurance, go on… “I’ve always been insecure and uh, uncomfortable with the way I look. After that disaster of a relationship, it left me worse for wear.” you kept your eyes on the road, you didn’t want to see the judgement on his face yet it didn’t stop you from carrying on, “I never told my friends or family about it. None of them knew I was struggling before it anyway so I’ve been letting it tear me apart.”

“Why tell me then doll?”

You risked a glance at his face. There were no traces of judgement or pity. Swallowing down your nerves, you added softly, “I had to tell someone. Even if that someone is a random person— who showed me kindness when I needed it.”

Taehyung felt his heart clench, she’s already trusting me… this was easier than I thought. “Don’t feel like you need to tell me anything baby,” I already know it all.

You felt your cheeks burn from the pet name, how could something so simple, affect you this much? God, talk about a schoolgirl crush. “That’s the thing, I don’t feel like I need to. I just, I want to.”

Taehyung presented you with his boxy grin, “Then you can tell me anything you want, whether it's big or small.”

“Thank you Taehyung.” It was like the sun had shone down on you, the simplest gesture meant the world. Here you had a person willing to talk to you about your darkest secrets. A person willing to listen. Someone who had no ties to your family, which made it easier for the words to flow from you, “It’s like, I was this happy, care-free kid. I smiled without forcing it and when I laughed… I felt free. I didn’t feel like I was losing my breath. Not like I do now, everytime I do so much as breathe, it's like these roots have twisted around my lungs and everytime a breath escapes, they crush them tighter. It’s like a reminder. You’re never fully alive. You’re never fully happy. Pain overrides any other emotion. I’ve learned that, after all those years. I used to think, I’d never accept it.” A solemn silence fell over you. The roots squeezed your lungs even tighter as you whispered, “I’m scared of living.”

“Flower, some people are anchored to this world by their feet, others by their fears. You don’t have to voice it, I know you’re scared. You have your fears. Your demons. The thing you were doing at the cafe; is destructive. Anything that harms you, is destructive. Fuck, it may only be something as simple as picking your skin but that can lead into bigger things.”

It already has.

“Taehyung, I know that. I knew when it started but it helps, it lessens my anxiety. You’re the only one to have picked up on it. My friends… they don’t notice. If they do, they don’t mention it.”

Taehyung scoffed, “You really think anyone on this planet is your friend?”

Your mouth was sewn shut. You didn’t want to admit it but, there was some truth to his words.

You walked home in silence.

That night haunted you. It forced its way into your dreams. It clouded your thoughts when Yoongi and Hoseok were with you. When you’d spent time together, you were vacant. A soulless body. It was like a poison had found its way into your brain, second guessing relationships and people’s motives.

‘You really think anyone on this planet is your friend?’

Why were you letting it get in your head so much? You knew your friends. They were the only ones you felt safe with. They were your friends for a reason, they supported you (albeit sometimes they had a sense of… tough love) but they always had your back.

You didn’t mention Taehyung to Yoongi or Hoseok. You felt as though that was something that should be kept between you and him. Plus, the duo would’ve felt betrayed and upset by the fact you had wandered into foreign territory alone and found company in a complete stranger-- especially after they’d warned you about the whole Jigsaw shit.

To save the arguments, you went about your life as usual. You helped out your Mum with the flower shop, the array of flowers made you realise how the simplest things were beautiful. That of course, didn’t include yourself. Rancid thoughts clouded what was once, a tranquil space. Those god forsaken roots hadn’t lessened. Breathing was still difficult— as was pretending that you were absolutely fine.

You avoided mirrors, a quick glance could wreck your entire mood. You hated people taking photos of you, it made you scrutinise every single thing.

My nose is too big.

My chin is too round.

My face just shouts ugly.

My legs are disgusting.

My stomach is embarrassing.

My boobs are weird.

Not to say, you didn’t have these thoughts on the regular. However, the more you eluded your appearance, the voices lessened. You could ignore the way you looked, forget it completely. Often convinced yourself you were a plain person. The stereotypical norm: someone that no one would look twice at. It helped you get on with everyday tasks, it helped you ease the anxiety.

After all, every flower must grow through dirt.

But how would you react? If you knew, he had all the pictures of you?

Tuesdays you worked at your Dad’s garage. You didn’t know much about cars but you enjoyed his company. As well as spending time with Hobi and Yoongi. You often found yourself pranking the former with Yoongi, little jokes that luckily, didn’t piss Hobi off too much.

Today though, you were late. You’d had to spend more time trying to find the more appropriate clothing… you didn’t want people to see the slashed lines of red that littered your body.

After you messily threw an outfit together, you made your way down to the garage. You found your eyes trained on the silver Nissan Skyline, mouth agape as you collided into something.

You felt hands grab your shoulders, “Watch where you’re going,” Yoongi brought his hands to ruffle your hair, “gotta be careful while we’ve got that here kidda. That fuckers expensive.” He released a chuckle as you rolled your eyes, softly elbowing him out the way.

Your dad was under the bonnet, a box of tools were scattered around his feet. Organised mess, your Dad was infamous for it.

“Sorry I’m late Pops, what do you want me to do?”

Not even a second later, your Dad turned to face you, “Ah darling, not a lot while we’re working on this. Can you go make us some drinks?”

“Yeah course, I won’t be too long!”

You passed Hoseok on your way to the little kitchen situated at the back, he sent you a wink as he shouted across, “Coffee for me kidda!”

Three cups were spread in front of you. Americano for Yoongi, Coffee for Hobi and Cappuchino for Pops. Just as you were about to shout the guys, a presence had situated itself comfortably behind you. Before you had time to turn around, a deep baritone voice addressed you, “You not gonna ask me if I want a cup baby?”

You felt yourself still. You knew that voice. The voice that was haunting your dreams, even your wake.

You really think anyone on this planet is your friend?

Taehyung watched the way your body tensed, your shoulders stiffened, your breathing altered. Hm, she’s nervous. How cute.

“What are you doing here?” the words passed your lips, delivered as though they were encased in thorns.

A deep chuckle filled the room, “What do you think I’m doing here?” Taehyung inched closer, the atmosphere was almost palpable. You felt the way his chest brushed against your back, a sudden chill shot through you as he brought his hand up— which grazed against your skin whilst he moved your hair from your neck. His eyes turned hungry at the sight of your goosebumps. Your heart raced when he brought his head lower, lips next to your ear, “You think I’m here for you baby?” I am… but you don’t need to know that just yet.

You spun around, squashed between the table and Taehyung. Heat radiated off of him, how can he be so hot? It felt like you were in a furnace (while face to face with the Devil.)

Fear stricken, you tried to fight through it. Don’t show him. Don’t let him see. With a sarcastic smile plastered on your face you retorted, “Of course you are Taehyung. You tracked me down using the information I gave you and figured out which Garage is ours.”

The sarcasm was practically dripping from your tone like venom. Taehyung felt himself stifle a laugh.

You just didn’t know. In all fairness, you didn’t know anything. How would you know that Taehyung had done exactly that, except he’d done it months prior.

He lowered his head to yours, your hands raised to push him away but Taehyung wrapped his fingers around each wrist and tugged them to lay between you before you even had the chance to nudge him. You felt like you were stuck in a Venus fly trap.

“I’m not some type of sicko, doll.”

You were just a naive, misunderstood, little girl.

“I’m getting my car fixed. Your dad’s working on it right now.”

Your body visibly relaxed, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Oh, the Skyline? Wait, you have a car and made us walk back to mine the other week?”

“I didn’t make you walk for the fun of it baby, my car is literally in the shop so obviously it was broken.”

Only, the car was perfectly fine when you met him those weeks ago. He had made the pair of you walk so he’d have more of a chance to speak to you and to touch you. The only way he could follow you around without being suspicious, especially at your dads work, was to have a somewhat reasonable excuse (which resulted in him messing with the engine). He knew although you’d shied away from him that night, he could easily win you back around.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry Taehyung. I’m also uh, sorry about how that night ended.”

“Don’t sweat it, I know what I said came off a little... weird but I didn’t mean any harm.”

With an angelic smile on your face in return, Taehyung knew that soon, that smile would morph into a grateful one. After all, he was going to help you.

Until a person is faced with death, it’s impossible to tell whether they have what it takes to survive.

Live or Die.

Your choice.

He had first seen you out and about last year. However, he had first heard of you when the guys working for him had slammed a file onto his desk, Subject #13 was scrawled on the top. Filled to the brim with pictures of you and everything about your life down to the littlest detail.

L/N Y/N— D.O.B 03.11.02— 19 years old.

Phone number: XXXXX.XXXXX

Female. Lives with parents at: 171 Norm Street, Falfield F91 7DW. Was outcasted at school but befriended a Jeon Jeongguk [19 years, male. 92 Carriers Road, Cressage CY5 3EA. XXXXX.XXXXX].

Ex partner is Kang Jaehyo. [23 years. Male. Abusive and manipulative, laid his hands on Y/N multiple times leaving bruises and scars. Sexual abuse was also discovered. Have been broken up for 4 months. 13 Walkers Drive, Falfield, F73 1DL XXXXX.XXXXX]

Y/N has suicidal ideations (as well as 7 attempts). Self harms by “cutting” “punching” and “scratching”. Diagnosed with Depression and Anxiety Disorder on May 13th 2016. Works at Toret Garage and Letty’s Floral. Both places owned by parents.

The web of lies and deceit had barely scraped the surface.

[mychemicalrachel]

Right Here

Takes place right after Eddie Begins. After narrowly avoiding death and being buried alive, Eddie has a question for Buck.

Word count; 1776

Read it on Ao3!

He can’t sleep.

Even if he could, he’s not sure he would want to.

Everytime he closes his eyes, he sees Eddie; covered in mud, buried in the sodden earth, alone and scared. He sees himself digging, screaming, trying to reach him. Trying to let him know he wasn’t alone, that Buck was right there, that he’d always been right there.

If the memories are hitting him this hard while he’s awake, Buck knows that sleep is a long way off. He makes himself some tea and settles into the couch, preparing for a long night.

He flips through channels and turns on the Xbox, only to turn it off again a few minutes later. He scrolls aimlessly through Netflix and starts shows he can’t focus enough attention on, then starts the whole searching process over, trying to find something else to watch. Something to occupy his mind so he isn’t thinking so damn much.

It’s not until a knock sounds for the second time that it earns Buck’s attention. A brief, fleeting acknowledgement; someone is here. And just as quickly, it’s dismissed; someone is here and if he ignores them, they’ll go away. He settles back, sips his tea, and starts another show.

He’s almost forgotten it completely when the door opens, and that sound warrants a lot more attention than just a knock. He tries to remember coming home; He’s fairly certain he locked the door. Even in his mechanical state, it’s habit. And that means that whoever is here has a key.

He waits, head inclined toward the entrance.

“Buck?”

He blinks. “Eddie?” Buck is on his feet before Eddie even rounds the corner. At first he thinks he must be imagining it-- maybe he fell asleep after all and this is just a dream. But Eddie hesitates in the entryway and the pause gives Buck enough clarity of mind to realize it’s not a dream.

“What are you doing here?” Buck demands. He starts forward just as Eddie does, and they both freeze again. “Come in here. Sit down. What are you doing here?” he asks again. He shoves the remote and Xbox controller off onto the floor and ushers Eddie to take a seat on the couch. “You should be resting. You look like hell.”

Eddie grimaces, but laughs nonetheless. “You should talk. Did I wake you up?”

Buck shakes his head. “Can’t sleep.”

“Me neither.”

After the tsunami, Buck recalls a lot of nightmares. He remembers waking up in a cold sweat, shouting Christopher’s name. There were nights and days he spent awake, replaying the moment in his mind, telling Eddie that he’d lost his son.

He can’t even begin to imagine the sort of nightmares Eddie is fighting right now.

“You should be resting, at least.”

“I’m fine,” Eddie says, but he shifts uneasily on the couch. He’s turned to face Buck, one leg pulled up under him, hands splayed on his knees like he’s bracing for impact.

“You were buried alive,” Buck reminds him.

“I remember,” Eddie says. “And I am fine, Buck. Physically. But… That’s kind of why I’m here.” He takes a breath and Buck feels it, too; that moment of impact, bracing for a collision. He waits for whatever it is Eddie might say.

Silence passes in waves, each second another tsunami hitting Buck again and again. He wants to press for more, but he’s afraid of pushing Eddie too far, pushing him away. He stays quiet.

Eventually Eddie swallows, the knot in his throat bobbing along as he speaks. “Back when I was in Afghanistan, there was an attack. They shot down the helicopter. There was fire and sand everywhere, I was choking on it. And I was trying to save everyone, but I got shot. I was bleeding and I was just thinking about….about everything. About my life.”

He sniffles, wiping a hand across his nose. Buck watches a tear splatter on his jeans, but doesn’t say a word.

“I was so scared,” Eddie admits with trembling lips. “That was the only time really that I thought I might die over there.”

Buck’s brow creases. A few times, in the almost two years that Buck had known him, Eddie talked about serving. Mostly it was about the friends, the family, he had while he was over there. But he’d never heard this story. He wonders why he’s hearing it now, of all times, but he knows Eddie needs to get this out in order to say whatever it is he came here to say.

“I had this picture of Christopher and Shannon. It was taken on his fifth birthday. They were smiling, and Cristopher looked so happy. I knew…” Eddie pauses, breathing, to swipe a finger across his lower lip. “I knew that they had each other. If anything happened, if I didn’t come home, I knew that they would be okay because they had each other.”

“But you didn’t die,” Buck says, because he has to say something. He feels the urgency swell to remind both himself and Eddie of this, that he is alive, he’s okay, that he’s here. “You made it home for them.”

Eddie nods. “I knew being a firefighter was dangerous, but last night…”

He trails off and for a long time Buck thinks maybe he won’t even finish. That’s the end of the story, the conversation is over. But Eddie sits up straighter, a look of resolve hardening his features when he finally meets Buck’s eyes. “Last night, I really thought I wouldn’t get out of there. I thought I was gonna die, Buck.”

“What are you saying, Eddie?” Buck asks, because he hates the way this sounds. It was the tone of voice Maddie had used when she explained that she was moving away with Doug. The voice Abby had used before she boarded a plane and never looked back. It was the sound of someone leaving, of being left behind, and Buck was all too familiar with that sound.

The idea of losing Eddie, too…

He saw himself once again, with dirt under his fingernails as he fought to dig Eddie out. 

“Before,” Eddie said, stressing each word, willing Buck to understand, “if anything happened to me, Shannon was there. But she’s dead. I am all Christopher has left. If something happened-- if I hadn’t gotten out of there last night--”

“But you did,” Buck tells him.

Eddie huffs in exasperation. “Will you be quiet for two minutes, Buck? I’m trying to ask you something.”

“It sounds like you’re breaking up with me,” Buck says. And he knows how ridiculous it sounds. It feels ridiculous. There’s nothing between them, nothing tangible at least. Nothing to break but a friendship and a co-workmanship. Unless… 

“Are you quitting? Because you can’t do that, Eddie. Even Bobby won’t accept a resignation right now. You’re under a lot of stress--”

“Dammit, Buck,” Eddie exclaims. “I’m not resigning. I’m trying to ask you to be Christopher’s godfather!”

The words hang heavy between them and Buck runs them through his head again, then a third time to make sure he’s heard them right. When he’s certain he has, he asks, “What?”

Eddie sighs. “Christopher loves you. You’re my best friend. I told you before, Buck, I trust you more than anyone in the world to take care of him, and I meant that.

“That was for babysitting!” Buck shouts. “For taking care of him for a few hours. Not raising him!”

“Look,” Eddie laughs, and Buck immediately feels some of the tension leave his body. “You don’t have to answer right now. And even if you say yes, it’s not like I’m expecting to drop dead tomorrow. It’s just a what if.”

“Pretty morbid what if.”

Eddie tilts his head, studying Buck. “When you became a firefighter, did you draw up a will?”

Buck thinks for a second. “Yeah,” he admits. But it was nothing super serious. It was a formality. A distant safety net for if anything ever happened on the job. But Buck didn’t have anything of value anyway, he just left everything to Maddie; a sick sort of joke that she would deal with all of his baggage, emotional and otherwise, even after he was dead and gone. But this…

This is Eddie asking him to be Christopher’s godfather. His legal guardian if anything should happen to Eddie.

This was very much real.

“You can’t put a kid in a will, Buck,” Eddie says. The force of the words are lessened with a shrug. “This is just my way of making sure Chris is taken care of. If anything ever happens.”

“What about your parents?” Buck asks, and immediately knows he hit a sore spot when Eddie grimaces.

“They love him,” Eddie concedes. “But there’s a reason we left Texas.”

“But--” Buck gapes. “Why not Bobby and Athena? Or Hen? They have actual kids, Eddie. I don’t know the first thing about being a parent. Why me?”

Eddie watches him, his gaze soft and open when he smiles. “You love him, probably as much as I do. The rest you figure out as you go. You think I had any idea what I was doing at first?”

“You had years of practice,” Buck says.

Eddie nods. “And hopefully I’ll have a lot more years left. But if I don’t--”

“Are you sure about this?”

“One hundred percent, Buck.” Eddie leans forward, his hand coming to rest on Buck’s. It’s warm in a way Buck doesn’t look at too closely-- he just allows himself to enjoy it. “I trust you.”

“Yeah,” he says, and then nods with more determination. “Yeah, Eddie. Of course. You know I’d do anything for you and Chris.”

Eddie squeezes his hand once more, but doesn’t pull away. He leaves them there, their hands tangled on Buck’s knee. He grins, “That’s how I know I’m making the right choice. Now scoot over,” he shoves at Buck, kicking his shoes off onto the floor and pulling his legs up onto the couch. “You were right about needing rest. What are you watching?”

Buck lets himself be manhandled into a comfortable position before restarting the show he had picked, but they don’t make it past the opening credits before he hears Eddie snoring peacefully on his shoulder.

He glances down, watching Eddie’s chest rise and fall. He counts the breaths and lets his own breathing fall into the same rhythm. It makes it all the more real, like they’re sharing one set of lungs. He finally falls asleep knowing that Eddie is alive, that he’s safe. That he’s right here, exactly where he’s supposed to be.

[lettheladylead]

avoid the unhappy ending (ch7)

ships/characters: Goldie, Della, Scrooge/Goldie words (ch7): ~2100 summary: Goldie comes to town to see Scrooge. Instead, she somehow manages to run into literally everyone else. ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27108943/

[1 & 2] [3] [4] [5] [6]

Chapter 7 under the cut:

Avoiding Beakley was a little more difficult than anticipated when they were on the same floor of the same house. In retrospect, Goldie realized that Bentina probably knew she was there. How could she not? The red triplet knew a lot of things he couldn’t have known unless the kids were texting each other all afternoon and surely she was on some kind of text chain.

Eh. If she knew, Goldie would probably be the hunt of the day. Instead she was able to wander about freely, making her way towards the garage where Scrooge kept a lot of his treasures. Everytime she was there it seemed to be missing things that were there before. But at least there were always new trinkets to look at!

She looked around as she stepped down the hallway, taking in all the photos and paintings lining the walls. Scrooge was so narcissistic. How many times could someone commission their own face before getting tired? And did he pose for all of them? Absolutely ridiculous.

A certain painting caught her eye and Goldie paused in her walk to really take a look at it. She stepped closer and brought a hand up to the image, feeling a nostalgic warmth in her chest as she rubbed her finger along the edge of his face.

It was Scrooge back in the Klondike - probably only a few years after they’d first met. Not too different from the photo she kept in her wallet.

He was very handsome back then. She hated to admit how much it struck her, that underneath all that dirt and grime and sour roughness he had the cutest face she’d ever seen - but Goldie was taken the first moment she saw him. It didn’t stop her from drugging and robbing him, sure, but he was the only sourdough that made her hesitate.

It’d been a few minutes before Goldie realized she was just standing there, staring at this painting and reminiscing like an old fool. She blushed, glad no one was around to see, and continued on her journey down the hall.

This house had so many distractions. No wonder Scrooge just wandered around, lost in his memories all the time. Her place was kept much neater - things she wanted to remember were kept in a box or her wallet so she would have to seek them out if she wanted to reminisce. Just another in a long list of reasons why she didn’t like being here for too long.

The door ahead of her was open wide and Goldie could clearly hear the sound of someone struggling with...something. It didn’t sound like Scrooge, but she wasn’t sure who it was.

A few steps forward, a turn around the corner, and three steps down the stairs and Goldie was inside the cramped little room. There weren’t as many treasures in it as last time - maybe Scrooge moved them somewhere else? - but directly in her line of sight was a duck she hadn’t seen in a long time trying to move a heavy-looking box by pushing it with her back.

Goldie smirked, feeling a sparkle to her eyes that she was very embarrassed about. Before Louie, she’d never gotten attached to any of Scrooge’s kids. He specifically asked her not to, several times, because he didn’t want her hurting them. A painful insinuation, but he was right. She would’ve treated them just the same as him, and kids can’t handle that kind of drama.

That being said, she always liked Donald and Della. They were funny, they were different, and they were very annoying. But in a good way! Donald was whiny and loved to complain about his family. Della was crazy and high-flying and always took her jokes too far. Goldie didn’t imagine they thought very highly of her, considering the way she treated their uncle. But despite their lack of closeness, Della confided in Goldie when she first realized she was pregnant.

“You’ve known Uncle Scrooge longer than anyone,” she’d said quietly. “...do you think he’ll be mad? Disappointed?”

Goldie had barely known what to say to her then, mostly feeling bad that her mother wasn’t around to help in this kind of situation (or any other adult women, really). She knew what she would’ve done herself and what she would’ve said to the girls she used to work with back at the saloon. But this was different. This girl wasn’t her friend and wasn’t scared of motherhood - she was just entering unfamiliar territory.

“He’ll be more excited than you’ve ever seen him, trust me.”

Shaking off another spell of nostalgia, Goldie hurried over to help the younger duck with the big box in her hands, tugging at it while she pushed. Her shoulder stung at the pressure, but she wanted to make a fun entrance.

“Hey, thanks!” Della said, without looking back.

Goldie wondered who she thought was helping her. “No problem, Fly Girl.”

“Heh,” Della stopped for a second. “No one’s called me that since -”

She stopped and finally turned, taking in the smirking face staring right at her. Her fingers gripped at the top of the box tightly and her eyes started to sparkle. And then they stopped sparkling and she glared. And then they sparkled again.

Goldie raised an eyebrow. Internal dilemma?

“Aunt Goldie!” Della yelped, lifting herself over the box and slamming into Goldie - knocking them both to the ground.

Goldie took the brunt of the impact, letting out a loud OOF! as Della squeezed her tight and made her poor shoulder flare up. She didn’t get a chance to hug back before the younger duck pulled away and stood back up, her metal leg clanging on the hard floor.

“Sorry, sorry,” Della said softly, standing back up. “What’s up? What’re you doing here? What are you stealing?”

Goldie sat up straight, taking a moment to stare at Della’s leg. She knew she’d returned, but no one had really shared any details. This seemed like one of those big details that deserved to be shared, but maybe everyone was just used to it already. She started to push herself up when Della leaned over and helped her stand.

“Hey, hey,” Goldie brushed her hands off. “I’m not that old just yet.”

Della laughed and pulled her hands back. “Oh no, of course not! You’re a million years old, but somehow younger looking than you were before I disappeared.”

“Hilarious.” She crossed her arms over her chest, not really offended. “You sound exactly like one of your kids.”

That immediately brought a sparkle to Della’s eyes. “Yeah? That’s what Donald says, too!” She leaned on the box and smiled. “And Uncle Scrooge.”

Goldie smiled despite herself and Della felt a warm nostalgia brush over her. “So are you here to see Scrooge? I’m kind of glad you guys are still doing this whatever-it-is-you’re-doing thing. So many things changed while I was gone, it's nice to have some consistency!”

Ignoring the question, Goldie leaned against the shelf behind her. “I didn’t come around too much while you were away. Scrooge was always so depressed, it wasn’t any fun to tease him.”

Della grimaced and sighed, turning away. “...yeah. So I’ve heard.”

There was an awkward silence for a few moments that Goldie fully acknowledged was her own fault. She bit the inside of her cheek and cleared her throat. “Well, um. Yes, I guess we’re still doing whatever this is.”

“No labels, yet?” Della’s mood did a 180. “But you didn’t object when I called you Aunt Goldie this time! What’s that about?”

Goldie scoffed. “I was a little distracted by you plowing me into the ground.”

Della just smiled bigger. “Still not objecting!”

Goldie didn’t look at her and opted to focus on playing with her hair. She hummed. “...I’ve never really minded it that much. It’s cute.”

“Do the kids call you Aunt?” She lifted herself up, sitting fully on top of the box. “You said I sound like them. You’ve spent time with them, then?”

“Don’t get too excited.” Goldie pushed herself off the shelf, standing up straight and stretching her arms. “I spent a day with Sharp-, er, with...ah, Louie. But not the others.” The name felt foreign on her tongue.

Della excitedly tapped the box lid. “Were you going to call him Sharpie?” She laughed. “You’ve gotten a lot less creative with nicknames over the years.”

“I don’t know if Fly Girl is all that creative, either,” Goldie said with a smirk and walked closer to the box, leaning against the side of it.

There was a light clang as Della swung her legs back and forth. “No one appreciates my great names,” she said proudly. “The boys were supposed to have much cooler names! And they’re calling my Cloudslayer the Sunchaser? Like, what’s up with that?”

“What were those names?”

“Jet, Turbo, and Rebel!”

Goldie silently blinked at her. “Um…yeah. Fantastic names.”

“Thanks!” Della smiled brightly, still not accustomed to sarcasm after being alone for so long. “Donald’s picks are just so old-fashioned.”

“Personally, I’m a fan of old fashioned.”

“Yeah, well, when you live through it, it makes sense to get attached!” Della laughed and swung her legs again.

The metal sound caught Goldie’s eye and she glanced down again, though this time Della took notice.

“You haven’t asked me about my leg yet.”

“I was trying to be polite,” Goldie said with a frown. “What happened?”

“Lost it on the moon,” she responded, looking off at nothing while she spoke. “It was the second most painful experience of my life, and I’m lucky I knew enough about robotics to build myself this sucker in only a few months. I don’t know how well I would’ve done if I wasn’t able to move around, y’know?” Della reached down and twisted off her prosthetic, holding it in front of her to point at different parts while she spoke. “This joint was the worst, took me almost two straight weeks to figure out what I was doing wrong. And now that I’m back, Gyro’s been offering to tweak the design, and he kind of owes me for the stupid licorice gum, but I like how I made it! And, of course, according to Junior Woodchuck Rule #42, something made right doesn’t need any tweaking. Though some upgrades might be cool.”

Goldie stared down at the metal limb and hummed. “I’m impressed. In all my years adventuring, I’ve never lost a limb, but I don’t know if I’d bounce back from that the way you did.”

“Yeah, well, I had to get back to my boys!” She twisted her leg back on and stretched it out. “You know how it is.”

“I really don’t,” Goldie said with an eye roll.

“Hmmm.” Della adjusted herself, moving her legs on top of the box and sitting on them. “Don’t you have anyone in particular you think about during life or death situations? That’s the feeling I had. That I couldn’t die ‘cause I had to get back to them no matter what.”

The blonde stared down, looking at the gray concrete of the floor and thinking. Of course there was a person - one particular person - who her mind drifted to when she thought about survival. But it wasn’t just about seeing him again...she was inspired by him and his ability to make it through anything thrown his way. He survived so much on his own and she struggled to accept when he started needing help. Della’s lovey dovey family monologue was just reminding her of how long it took her to adjust to Scrooge’s family suddenly being a part of his life.

She stood up straight and put a hand on her hips. “I don’t know if everyone can identify with that. But I’m glad it helped you come back in one piece.”

Della smiled, completely aware of the long pause Goldie took before answering. She always liked Goldie - didn’t trust her, would never fully trust her - but she liked her a lot. Even when she showed up just to ruin things or piss Scrooge off, there was always a little spark of warmth at the knowledge that she’d be back eventually.

“So…” Della tapped her hands against her thighs. “You never said why you’re here.”

“Right,” Goldie sighed and brushed some hair out of her face. “Looking for your uncle. Have you seen him?”

“As expected,” the younger duck responded with another bright smile. “Did you check his study?”

“His study?” Goldie frowned and thought about the path of her day. “Of course I...er…” Did she check his study? The most obvious place he could possibly be? “...right. Thanks.”

Della laughed again, patting Goldie on the back. “Don’t sweat it! And hey, let us know if you’re staying for dinner! I’m sure Mrs. Beakley will be happy to make you a plate!”

Goldie grimaced as she headed back out the door. “Oh, sure. She’d love nothing more.”

“Okay, great!” Della waved as the door closed again.

[interperie]

Learn to fly

I got to a point in my life where I’m able to step outside the motions and the currents that surround me and pause. Have a look and come back. I’ve been trying it since I came back, it’s been a blessing and curse sometimes, but it’s also shown me harsh truths. Things I’ve been avoiding and the things I am way too shameful to ever admit to anyone and it’s time to face the problem. My coping mechanisms got the best of me and the cruel humour of thousands of years of evolution keeps looming over the silence of a perfectly still evening or at some sunday walk when the golden hour is at it’s warmer. The poison spills all over my clothes, my sheets and my skin, and it leaks into my veins so i lose control. It used to be like getting an invitation, thinking about it and then engaging when I felt was the right thing to do, when I felt like it. It was an invitation to explore but now it’s a sentence I havent been able to maintain under control, and now it looms over my shoulder every time I hear about it from other people’s voices, when I see in on the screens. 

I believe I have become sick or disturbed by it. There is a broken circuit or just a very dysfunctional one. But it feels so good to ride the tiger and be suspended in the air for a couple of seconds. I don’t think I’ve ever genuinely cared for being normal. Before it used to be the idyllic promise of blending in and stop getting picked on. But there was never a real interest or a deep rejection of myself for not being able to be normal. I have accepted myself and the way that I am. Not fully but very close. Or at least that’s what I’d like to think. I have noticed that it’s okay to be me and people seem to like the way that I am, the way that I think or look or dress or talk and it’s always felt so odd. It always felt almost like a joke or a senseless comment but after a while it’s become just a silly thing they say. Sometimes I believe it and let myself feel the feeling of being observed and appreciated. I give myself permission to entertain the motion until it fades away in the blink of an eye. I’ve learned to cherish those moments even if they are brief. But there are layers, and everyone has them. I’m sure people are much more deeper than they appear to be, but some are better at hiding it, some others are disconnected with themselves. I know I’m not normal and I used to be ashamed of it, sometimes the insecurity comes out when someone points out some of my quirks or gets irritated by the non sensical way I do things. But there is dimension of me who has always been wounded, and who has never been out in the sun. It has gotten in the way of so much and it’s stolen so many things from me. So many stories and oportunities, so many instances that could’ve made me feel normal and just dont care. Somehow I feel ashamed by saying this but: I wish I was normal about this. I wish I could speak the language that everyone speaks instead of just nodding and laughing when I simply dont understand anything. And I’m at a point in my life where I’m taking over in my own terms. That’s being an adult, right? And it’s good. It feels good. But sometimes I would rather turn around and sleep in but it makes me feel like a child running away. Hidden in my crib, away from the world that can hurt me and the sun that burns my skin because I can’t take the heat. I hate children and when I feel like one I hate myself. Everytime I open up the door and step in into this other dimension I feel like I am just a clueless kid who wants to be with the grown ups, I feel naive and out of place. Like when you’re the only one who didn’t get the joke. It feels like the rest of my adulthood is also a joke, or a silly lie I told to blend in again. It feels like I failed at being a person. It feels like I’m broken and it’s just so hard to feel full again. It feels like I’m always free falling and the only way to stop it is to float around. To reject gravity and get a hold of whatever feels like vertigo. So I stick to what I know. I stick to old habits and I decide to forget that they come with the false promises of normality. I’ve learned to fall and get up again all my life and now I can face almost everything with a steady walk. But when you feel like falling all the time, you dont get the luxury to pick which coping skill you’re going to use from your arsenal. You stick to what you know and whats familiar. I always know how to start, how to proceed and how it finish. Along the years I’ve implemented some “add on”s and my methods have become more sophisticated and adventurous, and in a way I feel proud about it. But it’s time to face the truth. And the trush is that this is killing me. It stains with dirt all the places that I’ve built but after a while it wouldn’t matter, it would be a distant eco of the boiling blood pumping through my veins. But then it comes back to me. And I need to take over and to build myself a new version of it. It’s time to calm down. Its time to return to my body and wear my skin as what it is. Just skin. Because I’m a human and I dont need to be normal.

And maybe some day i won’t need to hide behind codes and a secret tongue to be in my own skin. Maybe one day I’ll just let go. I’ve fixed a lot of shit in my life and Ive proven myself I can get better and do things my way. And it works. I just need to allow myself to embrace the fall. Maybe someday I can learn how to fly.

[bagels-and-seagulls]

I lose my mind everytime you update bad boy David I need more thenks

how about a little something on the jonas / david dynamic? 

more bad boy david

-to say that jonas doesn’t get along with david is like saying that dr. jekyll had occasional moodswings, or that usain bolt was kind of quick, or that an explosion of the primary oxygen tank of apollo 13 was a problem, houston. his distaste for everything that david was, everything that david stood for was fucking palpable, like something heavy in the air, something sticky and muggy and hard to breathe in. he practically snarls whenever david’s name is brought up. he excuses himself whenever david is supposed to come by. he walks away when people ask matteo about him. matteo finds that it makes it a little hard to breathe these days. 

-david, being stuck in his ways like a fence post in cement, says that he doesn’t care, says that he couldn’t give a single fuck about jonas’ opinion of him, that it doesn’t matter at all. he chalks it up to just another guy being uncomfortable with david’s outspokenness for who he is and what he believes. he tries not to give him a single ounce of his energy, like he tries with every other person he hates, not that it ever works. he doesn’t think about him. doesn’t talk about him. doesn’t ask after him. he hardly even pays attention to whatever matteo is saying once jonas’ name comes up. 

-matteo picks up on this pretty fast and eventually stops mentioning the other all together. he comes up with an excuse for why he can’t go out with the boys when he’s already comfortable in between david’s legs back at his apartment, when he feels so sheltered and so cared for, so looked after, that the thought of leaving this little safe haven makes him think about putting stones in his pockets and seeing how long he holds his breath at the bottom of a swimming pool. he just says oh, a friend and i when telling stories where jonas is a key character, his sidekick, the boy who has been by his side since he was just a little kid, skinning their knees together and eating mud just because they were dared, because jonas would never let matteo eat a dirt pie on his own. 

-they both can tell that matteo is miserable, but their hatred for each other clouds their heads so much that they almost forget that they both love matteo more than that. 

-it all comes to a head one day when they run into each other outside a classroom. there’s yelling and screaming and insults and asking how far the other is willing to go. 

-you would ask matteo to choose? david spits out. sounds like a lousy best friend, he adds because he wants to be mean, because he knows he can’t punch jonas in the face and still curl up behind his sweetheart and hear his quiet breaths and even quieter whispers, so he decides to just use his tongue like a knife and cut jonas down a size. afraid he won’t choose you? you think a couple months is worth a decade? jonas bites back because maybe he’s feeling a little mean, too. maybe he wants to do his own damage. david pretends he’s not hurt, pretends it doesn’t sting. he just scoffs. i’d remember that only one of us is making him come. 

-matteo hears all about their screaming match in the courtyard from a couple of spectators a few hours later. he sends joans three scathing voice messages back to back that demands answers for this, asks what the hell he thought he was doing, what he was thinking, reminds him that he doesn’t need jonas’ protection. he doesn’t even want it. he sees david that night and hisses at him in the hallway that david was so far from the right that matteo doesn’t even think he recognizes him, that the boy that he let in his bed night after night wouldn’t embarrass him like this, wouldn’t hurt him like this. he closes the door in david’s face, and he tells them both that if they’re making him choose, he wouldn’t want either of them. 

-matteo ignores them both for days, and it’s excruciating for everyone. 

-they end up meeting up after four days of nothing but static from matteo with the occasional reminder that they had to fix this. they meet up at a coffee shop that neither one of them likes with their heckles raised and their claws withdrawn and ready to strike. they whisper to each other, showing their teeth, and talking quick. jonas tells him that he thinks he’s no good, certainly not good enough for matteo, that he’s violent and angry and too full of spite for someone like matteo, someone quiet and withdrawn and sweet. david tells him that he underestimates matteo, that he’s trying to make decisions for him, that matteo is a big boy who can handle himself. he tells jonas that he doesn’t even know him, doesn’t know what he’s been through, what he’s going through, that he didn’t even try. 

-somehow they come to an understanding. they figure it out enough that they think they can live with each other as long as they both get to keep matteo. they show up at matteo’s door with their heads hung low and their tails tucked in between their legs, apologizing and saying they were assholes and that matteo didn’t deserve any of it. matteo eyes them, suspicious at their sudden change of heart, but let’s them both in. and they all end up awkwardly eating dinner in matteo’s kitchen with stilted conversation, and jonas and david trying not to one up each other while matteo stares at them out of the corner of his eyes. they think its worth it when matteo promises to hang out with the boys the next night at the park, and david is back allowed underneath matteo’s covers. 

-they try to hang around each other for matteo’s sake, because they both don’t want to go back to having either messages read but never responded to. they can stand being in the same room as each other for a couple hours every week. they even talk to each other every now and then, politely and cordially asking each other how they’re classes are going, how their lives are in that uncomfortable way that all small talk hits. they eventually manage to have an entire conversation while matteo is out of the room, and no one ends up getting a bloody nose or goes home crying. 

-one day david laughs at one of jonas’ jokes, and it all kind of goes downhill, or rather uphill, from there. 

[taliel-strykidz]

We got Married : JinHuan ep1

-Cut scene to interview with Ai-Huan: 

“Hello my name is Chang Ai-Huan the female member of NCT, and I am known as the mother of my group.” She introduced herself with a bright smile, you could feel how warm and caring she was through her eye smile. 

- Cut scene to NCT’s music video Boss and Huannie taking care of the Dreamies. 

“As an idol you sign a contract that states under no circumstances are you allowed to date, plus i’m in four units and kind of have no time to break that rule, no matter how much I want to.” 

Panel: “She seems very down to earth”

Jaemin: “That’s because Noona is small though.” 

“But one day I will get married and have a mini me to terrorize everyone a second time round, no one can stop my diabolical plan.” She jested earning a majority laugh of the studio she was in at the time. 

-Cut scene to interview with Park Jinyoung.

“Annyeong, annyeong. I’m Park Jinyoung from Got7,” His smile wide and bowed to the camera. 

“As majority of you know my group is very big on being weird and happy and I have to control them like a parent and am not allowed to date so I will treat my wife as lovingly and will work hard to keep her happy. If you see this nae anae I hope you can forgive my weird tendancies.

-Cut to Huannie

The camera picked up on a woman with her back faced to the back swan diving onto the couch ontop of the male currently watching Men On A Mission. She began toy fighting with him for the remote claiming she wanted to watch the newest episode of He Is Psychometric. Jung Jaehyun simply evaded her attacks keeping the remote far from the girl. 

“Jae please it’s only for an hour and I’ll buy you food later.” She negotiated still trying to get the remote whilst trampling all over the boy with one thing in mind. 

“Why don’t you go watch it in your room Huan?” He argued. 

“But this tv is bigger and better. Please Jae.” She used her secret weapon one of which Jaehyun hated because it worked everytime. Aeygo, Huannie was a professional at using aeygo on the boys to get her own way. This was another example. 

Without any other words he gave her the remote before trying to get comfortable under her weight, he knew this would happen, she would always climb on him to get the remote and refuse to move afterwards. 

Luckily for Jaehyun the doorbell sounded and the camera men motioned for him to go and collect it. Heavily confused he trecked over to the door only to recieve a red envelope and sighed. He knew SM wanted her on the show, he just didn’t think it would be so close to the come back. 

- “So is Jaehyun her bestfriend Jaemin-ah?” Min-sook asked the younger boy watching beside her, he smiled cutely before laughing. 

- “Those two are inseparable these days. He’s the one to take her away from a crying baby because she spends almost an hour in the supermarket trying to make the baby smile.”

- “Ah so she’s very maternal?” 

-” She’s my surrogate mother.”

Jaehyun returned to the couch with a focussed Huannie watching the screen blocking out the boy who was waving the We Got Married envelope in front of her face. 

“Huan this came for you.” He tried with no luck, the girl was busy watching the emotional scene in front of her. 

“Stray Kids should have been an 7 member group.” He goaded awaiting for the sharp remote pause and the harsh glare setting in on her face. “I’m joking but this is for you” 

“Please don’t leave us.” Jaehyun joked refusing to let go of the girl, who pushed him away gently trying to open the letter. 

“Bye.” She said. 

“Noona what’s that?” Jaemin and Chenle entered the dorm noticing the large amount of cameras and the famous red envelope in her hands. 

“Well i’ll tell you if you take of your dirty shoes on my carpet Chenle.” She said giving a pointed look to the dirty vans now squishng dirt into the fabric. 

“So you’re getting married Noona?” Jaemin asked as he sat next to her with an innocent smile. “Who is it?” 

“I dont know-” 

“How about you read it?” Jaehyun cut her off with a roll of his eyes, he had been waiting in anticipation. 

Panel Jaemin: “I think Jaehyun hyung was more nervous than Noona.” 

Dear my Wife, 

I hope when you read this you can understand where i’m coming from, I wish to cherish you and love you as a husband should do. It feels strange not knowing who you are but I can guess that you’ll be beautiful. 

I am an idol- I belong in a boy group. Unfortunately I’m apparently not supposed to tell you which one. I just hope you know who we are when you find out. 

Please look after me as I plan to look after you too. 

I can’t wait to meet you, 

Love, 

Your nervous husband. 

Panel: “Aw he did well.” 

Min-sook: “Look at her face she enjoyed it.” 

Jaemin: “Noona was so excited that she called Lily straight after and they squealed for an hour. My eardrums were broken.” 

-Cut scene to NCT dorm, when Huannie wrote her letter: 

“Noona don’t be weird, you’ll scare him off.” Chenle laughed loudly looking at what the woman was writing, her beautiful calligraphy was standing out to the camera as she pondered her next line. 

“What? I may as well give him an idea of what my personality is like before, so he can prepare.” She defended herself and shooed him out of the room to write in peace. 

Dear my husband, 

I’m glad to hear that there is a slight possibilty that you’re not a murderer, but I also would like to say I’ve been issued a mission to give you hints for you to find me tomorrow. 

All I can say is I too am an Idol and I will be at JYP studios tomorrow to film with a group. I hope you can find me through this clue that I have put in the box.

Please come and find me, please don’t make me wait too long heels are hard to dance and walk in. 

Don’t dissapoint me Honey, 

Nervous, 

Your wife. 

She placed the necklace in the envelope and smiled evily before turing towards the camera and giggled. 

“I may as well let him meet my best girlfriend.” 

(Bit of notice, Lily and Huannie wear necklaces of eachothers groups, so he’ll have to find Lily in order to find Huannie.)

[maagicmiss]

Endgame spoilers !! Beware the spoil !!

This movie was amazing. With a lot of humor, which never fall flat. I was dumbfounded from the beginning to the end tbh Nobody asked for it but there is my hot take of Avengers 4 :

I felt really bad for Thor because ya know, depression™️ but damn the surprise/shock made me laugh. Noobmaster is an absolute evil that we need to end. They kinda did him dirty, I really wasn’t wanting for that but eh 🤷🏻‍♀️ Broken man 😔 Everytime I think about how much he lost I die inside a little more. Rocket was the real best dude here. Cheers to him. I was so fck happy for him when he got his hammer back !!! Like !!! "I’m still worthy" !!!!! You go you funky thunderous man !!! He deserves to be happy at all cost. Protect this man. During the last battle I was shook, with both his hammer and axe, fighting the purple asshole, so cool. Amazing, truly. Also, when he gave Valkyrie the commandment ?? My queen. She’s now my queen. By the way, we all know who’s in command of the Guardians now 🔥🔥😂

I can’t exprim how much I was sad for Natasha. When I saw them climbing this damned mountain I understood it was over for her 😭😭 I will love her until my dying breaths. She did deserve better but she died protecting her family, and the earth. She was the one who fought until the end, who did everything she could, and managed to avenge the earth. Thanks to her Thanos was defeated. Let’s honor her 😭👊🏻🔥

Clint. Like, dude. Pain. Angst. A bit of stupidity but that’s Clint so yeah. The assasinsbowl was ofc won by Natasha, and he lived. I would’ve been pissed if he died because he killed all this (bad indeed) people out of pettiness and sadness and anger for his family but he would’ve let himself die ? I understand. But like, dude. No. You’re a father. A husband. Natasha was ofc going to sacrifices herself instead of you.

HULK !!! My man. He’s happy and that’s all that matter 😭❤️ We stan a confident and humourus man y’all (Im still waiting for a height joke when Scott got aaaaaall huge in the end rip) Also, him being ashamed of his past self ??? Amazing. I couldn’t even in my wildest dreams lol I was dead when he met the old sorceress and got kicked out of his body lmaoo

STEVE. Or best known as America’s ass. Bae. I love that man. Everybody does. He did it. He did all his possible and it payed off. Also what a quick learner. When the hammer got lift, I was "W H O ???" Tbh I was thinking Loki, like "yo surprise bitches" but it was way better xD I think I screamed lmaooo But man, so fucking cool and impressive. That scene where he stand alone in front of Thanos and of his whole army ? With his broken shield ? I C O N I C. I am already seeing all the edit, gif, tribute, fanart and fanfic about it. I can’t wait y’all. Although, I was a bit disappointed about his closure ? Like yeaaah it was neat but... idk....... a bit dissatisfied and disappointed. The Steve/Steve was funny but also sad, idk. Although, Steve in the elevator saying Heil Hydra was beautiful.

Tony. I need to say it. Steve did him dirty. Like. Poor man. He didn’t deserve that, at all. I would’ve preferred Steve snapping down Thanos than him. He’s a father !! A husband too !!! Steve promised to him he wasn’t going to die. LIES, ALL LIES. I’m salty. But no hate for the blond man please. In the end, it was Tony choice. In the end with "The proof that Tony Stark has a heart" was heartbreaking. I wasn’t ready AT ALL. I’m not his biggest fan but oh damn, Sadness got me down. His daughter ? Pain. The little kid from Iron man 3 ?? Pain. Happy being sad ? Pain. Pepper ? Pain. I’m dead. He deserved better 😔 When he met his dad, I was dying. Dying of sadness but also of joy. Glad he could talk to him, and even hug him !!!!

Carol !!! THE bitch. I love her. She could walk on me and I would apologize. We didn’t saw her that much but ya know, it’s cool. I gave her entry a 9/10 because there wasn’t thunder lol (unlike Thor in Infinity War, who rightfully had a mighty 10/10). She was a queen. That haircut ? Beautiful.

Nebula. She’s my bae. Protect her. She’s doesn’t seem to need it but she does. Baby. She baby. But she’s a dangerous baby so be careful lmao Her killing in cold blood her past her (??? Was that suicide ?? Or murder ?? Or murder suicide idk ???) to protect her past sister was tragically sad and heartbreaking and beautiful. I’m saying a lot beautiful but hey I’m doing my best with my limited vocabulary. Nebula and her, and the guardian deserves happiness. Lowkey shooketh that nobody saw it was the past Nebula and not the right one but I’m going to excuse them by saying it the excitement of having all Infinity stones and of sadness for Natasha. Other way I’m about to throw hands 🤬😤

Iconic moment :

Carol saving Tony’s ass. We all knew that was how it gonna to happen but I was so relieved. 9/10.

Thor killing in cold blood Thanos in front of everyone, dead inside was wow, brutal. Not happiness out of it, no recomfort. Merciless, brutal, cold. He was here for the head and he got it. 7/10

Not an iconic moment but shush. The five years later ? I was astonished. It must have been 5 painful years. The world was in shred, dusts and broken people everywhere. Pain. Everything is blue, melancholic, broke. If I was one of the missing people coming back I would tell to every fucking one that joke "Hey, I’m gone like 5 seconds and everybody go apeshit ? What would you all do without me ?" Yeah im that bitch lmao 10/10 because you feel that emptiness and sadness.

Tony joining the idiots and Tired Steve™️ with an actual good plan in his fancy car with a lot of skids and other fancy stuff ? 10/10 good one, boi

That scene from Avengers 1 ? Then them on the side ? 6/10

Steve in that elevator ? You already know. 9/10

Steve commenting on his own ass ?? 1000/10 Trust me, it’s fair. Were waiting for that since Avengers 1.

I love Steve

Loki ?? Man, that dude is a joke but I love him. The face he made when he saw the case slide.... beautiful. The face he made when he jumped in the time hole ??? Iconic. 10/10. I want to know how everything is gonna to play with his series. I wanted more of him tbh I even was waiting for him in the last battle. By the way, is he still dead ? If he never went to Odin.... idk. Lowkey confused here.....

And last but not least :

The final battle.

Damn.

The fight between Iron Man, Thor, Captain and Thanos was intense. I was on the edge of my seat lmao It reminds me of their fight in Avengers 1, in the forest, for Loki. They were fighting against each other, now they’re fighting together 🔥👊🏻❤️ 9/10

Steve picking up the hammer ? 10/10 No comment, it’s fair. (The "I knew it" of Thor was priceless)

Steve getting a rematch on Thanos with both his shield and Hammer ? I C O N I C. 9/10 because it didn’t last long in my opinion.

Steve in front of the whole army ? Alone ? The face dirty of dirt and blood, the shield cut in half ? After he slowly stood up, even tho he was tired and probably had broken ribs ? How dare you not applause. That old man was ready to fight them all, and to fucking die. Stupid but amazing. 1001/10. Slightly better than him commenting on his own ass lmao (tag me if u ever do a fanart of this scene please)

Sam calling Steve ? Not iconic but still. I was dying and it cured me. My skin is clear, my debt are payed off, my grades are perfect and I’m now immortal.

The Powerful Women squad ? Damn. I love it. Sign me up for 10 movies about their shenanigans around the universe. 10/10

All the dead one coming back to life ? All the dead coming through the portals ? And looking badass af ?? Doctor Strange ? Wong ? Wanda ? Sam ? Bucky ? Spider man ? The Guardians looking sharp ? Black Panther with his sister and Okoye ? The Wankanda Army ? The spatial ships ? EVERYONE ????? Bitch Please, it was perfect. 10/10.

Tony snapping ? "I’m Iron Man." I was euphoric. 10/10. Then I was really sad. So 10/pain

"Proof that Tony Stark has an heart" ? A painful 7/10.

As you can read, I loved that movie. Like, very much, but, I’m a bit dissatisfied about the music. The Russos were idk, timid ? Shy about it. Most of them were old one, the themes of the characters and the principal theme (the one from avengers 1). Nothing too extraordinary, nor extravagant. Can do better.

Also, idk why but I found that Hulk was a bit weird ? Idk he seemed emotionless ? Maybe it’s only me but I didn’t like that much the CGI of Hulk this time.

Wanda. She barely spoke. Rip

Tony’s death. He shouldn’t have died.

Steve’s old days/death/idk. I’m not buying it. I don’t like it either. Glad Sam is Captain America now tho. Sad for Bucky. The dude is gonna end up alone in 2022 (or idk what years) with only Sam and Steve’s grandchildren or idk Rip dude

There is soooo much to say about this movie. Like, I write something down and something else is immediately coming up x) Maybe I’ll edit stuff later.

[pitbull-tent]

Nature’s Fairy Lights//Poodull

Description: Pitbull and Poodle are very much in love and at camp… they just need to come to terms with it first

Possible triggers: fighting, an anxiety attack, and depressing thoughts.

You’re gonna want to grab some tissues.

Chapter 2: Mud Run

I awake to a cold spot in my bed, leaving me confused and searching for a few seconds. To be fair, it could’ve been the way to early “God Bless America” trumpet alarm, but I’m pretty sure it’s the cold spot. And then, it dawn upon me, as if I was that flag, that Poodle must’ve left sometime during the night.

I arise from the comfort of my blanket coffin- complete with pillows- groaning and stretching. I look over to see what the couple was up to, and was met with their morning kissing session- so I looked away very quickly. Instead, opting to grab a shirt and shorts and walking quickly to the bathroom.

I stare at myself in the very public mirror with dread. I hate changing in front of people. I have two options at this point. Get dressed quickly right now, or wait for one of the bathroom stalls to open. This isn’t a hard choice.

While I wait for someone to finish getting changed, I think about last night. Why would Poodle come over to my cabin? Why would they wrap their arms around me like that? They obviously only think of me as a friend. Do I think of them as a friend? Two days ago the answer would 100% be yes. After yesterday, though, I’m not so sure. Maybe I’m kinda sorta really definitely in love with Poodle. Maybe. What a wild thought. I can’t seem to trust my brain these days.

A stall is finally open, and I hurry to it before it’s taken again. I get dressed quickly and hurry out of the stall. I stand in front of a full body mirror to get a good look at my outfit.

I’m wearing an oversized yellow sweater with a vintage NASA logo printed on the front. It’s coupled with some ripped skinny jeans and a lilac beanie. I take my tired hands and tuck my sweater in the front for fashion reasons. I have to wear my glasses today, as I forgot my contacts at home. My white converse on as always. I ruffle my hair a bit and head back to my cabin.

I look up at the sky as I make my way. Looks and smells like it might rain. Glancing around the campus, I see Poodle waving at me over to them. I turn baby pink, instantly reminded of last night. I let out a breath before walking over.

“Did you sleep well last night?” Their voice still has that sleepy droop to it.

They take a sip from the unicorn mug of tea in their hands. Their eyes are half opened as they look at me. The sun is behind them, giving them an interstellar glow. Honestly, how could you not fall in love with someone like that. Right now, I’d love nothing more than to grab the collar of their shirt, pull them in, and-

“O-oh yeah. I did. How about you?” I stutter out when I realize that they’re still waiting for my answer.

“Better because I was with you.” They hum, taking another sip of their tea like they didn’t just say that. I feel the heat begin to rise to my cheeks from the warmth in my stomach that they make me feel, and I have to fight back an actual giggle. You know who giggles? People that are in love, and I’m definitely NOT that.

Poodle POV

I can’t believe I just did that. I’m FLIRTING and I think I’m doing okay at it. If I could keysmash right now, I would.

Good lord, I hope they like me. I mean, they blushed, so I guess that’s a good sign. I take a deep breath of the wild, calming my nerves and trying to keep my cool the best I can.

“Smells nice, doesn’t it?” Pitbull asks me after I take my breath. Keep your cool Poodle, keep your cool.

“Not as good as you.” I reply. Uh oh, that was bad, wasn’t it. Please god say it worked, say it worked. I’ve been waiting for a year to get them to like me.

They blush slightly, looking away. I have to physically refrain myself from fist bumping the air because I just did that like a pro. Heck yeah. So, I just opt for another sip of my cinnamon tea. Because I’m cool. Yeah.

“Whatever.” They mumble in defeat from my one hit KO. Mortal Kombat who? Sorry, I only know myself.

“Would you like me to escort you to your cabin?” I politely offer, my mother’s teachings showing.

“No, It’s fine. I wouldn’t want to trouble you.” They reply hesitantly, their voice reminding me of honey when you’re deprived of sugar.

“I insist.” I push, really wanting to spend as much time as possible with them, craving their presence as an addict craves drugs.

After this, they give in. Another point for the smooth talker.

We walk in comfortable silence, only the birds making noise around us. I hold my unicorn mug expertly with my right hand while I use my left to grasp Pitbull’s hand like the romancer that I am.

I place my fingers between theirs in a way that one would call interlocked. Their skin softer than the velveteen rabbit I dragged through the dirt as a kid. I can feel their slight hesitation, but they ultimately decide against pulling away, pulling my hand closer instead.

“Want some tea? It’s cinnamon.” I ask in an attempt to stop myself from jumping in joy. I move my mug towards them in a way to tell them that I’m not taking no for an answer. They just roll their eyes, blush, and nod, taking the warm drink from me.

I’m not going to lie, I missed the warmth of the mug, but it was worth it to see Pitbull hold it. Even the way they hold a mug is perfect. How is that even possible? It’s probably because I’m absolutely smitten for them.  They are absolutely flawsome.

The way their face perks up in delight when they taste the drink makes my knees weak. Their eyebrows raise slightly in surprise and their eyes twinkle lightly.

“This is amazing, you’re going to have to teach me how to make it sometime.” They practically moan. I didn’t think the drink was that good, but okay.

“Anything for you.” I reply simply, the words slipping without much thought or effort, earning me yet another sweet blush.

Before I can even comprehend it, they’re handing me the mug back, and I blink twice before I take it, nodding my head in thanks and winking at them. I don’t know why I winked, but there’s no going back now.

“God.” they mumble under their breath, still blushing. I furrow my brows. Did I make them uncomfortable?

“Why are you talking about yourself in the third person?” I’m concerned now, but I don’t know why I just said what I did.

They mumble something under their breath that sounds scarily like “I just love you so much.” but I heard wrong, right?

“What did you say?” I ask, confused.

“I, uh, just l-loathe your lunch.” They stutter out, clearly lying, but I’m not going to call them out on it.

“What did my lunch ever do to you?” I joke before we fall back into silence. Man, I didn’t even get a laugh out of them. It must’ve been a bad joke, but only Jesus will ever know.

And God, apparently.

We reach the doors of Pitbull’s cabin sooner than expected, and I’m disappointed to say the least. I wanted more time with them, I really did, but it looks like time is something I’ll never have enough of.

“We’re here.” They say, turning to me and letting go of my hand.

“We are.” I reply, confused as to what they’re waiting for.

And then it hits me. They probably want a kiss on the cheek or something.

I lean forward and peck their cheek before walking away. I turn back to wave, but they’re already gone, so I just shrug and continue walking.

Pitbull POV

I stumble back into my cabin, face still flushed. The second I shut the door behind me, I hear Turquoise laugh.

“What are you laughing at?” I try to sound mad, but honestly I’m too swept up in my thoughts to care.

“Who’s the lucky duck?” Turquoise giggles, throwing their shirt over their head.

“What? No I’m not- I mean, they’re not- We’re not-” I spit out, feeling my face turning even more red than it already was.

“Oh trust me Pit, I know that look on your face all too well. You’re in love.” Maroon chimes in, running a brush through their hair nonchalantly.

I sigh, not wanting to argue anymore. Half because I’m still tired and half because they’re completely correct, even if I don’t want to believe it yet.

I lay face first on the bottom bunk of my bed, too full of butterflies to care. It’s not like they’d like me anyways.

“Of course they’ll like you hun.” Turquoise says, and my face heats up again. Apparently I’ve been thinking aloud.

“Probably not.” I deny, rolling towards the wall instead of them.

“Have you asked them?” Maroon adds on in a motherly tone.

“No.” I stubbornly admit after a few moments of silence, and I can hear them both sigh and exchange a look.

“Then what are you sitting here for! Go admit your love before I admit it for you!” Maroon yells to me, throwing their pillow at me to make a point. I can physically feel Turquoise’s eyes roll.

I get up slowly, putting emphasis on the fact that I don’t want to. And Maroon throws another pillow at me to get me to hurry out the door. Which works, I’m not gonna lie.

The morning air hits my face yet again when I open up the door and shut it quickly, not wanting to get hit again. I take a deep breath and walk towards the pavilion, figuring that I’ll have to go there for announcements eventually. I’m aware that I’m completely ignoring their advice, but I’m not sure if I’m ready yet. I mean, I’m not even sure about my emotions, let alone coming to terms with them.

Before I can think much, I’ve arrived at my destination. The pavilion is completely empty, spare for a few old wrappers. I sigh, preparing for the wait ahead of me.

I’m totally spaced out, thinking about Poodle. Do they really like me? Do I like them? What was last night about? Why are they so freaking cute? Why is it that everytime I see them, do I want to-

A hand on my shoulder snaps me out of my thoughts, as well as scaring me half to death.

“Oh, sorry! Did I scare you?” My heart stops. That’s not Poodle’s voice, like I was expecting. It was too rough to be Poodle’s voice.

I turn, and am met with the most intense green eyes. Not a good kind of intense, like the forest in the middle of the spring, but like the sun shining through ice. Eyes that could be kind, but in this moment of panic, I’m unable to read anything of the sorts.

“Uh-” I stutter, unsure of what to say.

“Pit! I’ve been looking for you!” My savior, Poodle, yells, and I completely ignore the stranger as they jog up to where I’m stuck to the ground.

I’m sure it’s only because of my relief, but my eyes show me an unearthly glow that surrounds them. A glow that’s soft and faint, but clearly there. I blink a few times, and it disappears. And, yet, the image burns against my eyelids, and I can’t seem to get rid of it.

“Who’s your friend?” Poodle asks, with a hint of jealousy in their voice.  Why would they be jealous? They collapse down next to me with a huff.

“Corgi.” The mysterious stranger says after glancing between the two of us. “You?”

“Poodle.” They say after looking Corgi up and down slowly, asserting dominance without T posing. Corgi looks at me expectantly.

“Pitbull.” I say sweetly, putting my hand out to shake. They don’t take it, dear lord. This is awkward.

I put my hand down even more awkwardly while Poodle and Corgi have a staring contest, clearing my throat when I begin to feel too uncomfortable.

“Are you ready for the mud run?” Somebody else says, joining the conversation. Completely oblivious to what just happened.

“The what?” Poodle questions, apparently the only sane one in this situation.

“It’s where we do a ropes course one by one in the mud.” They say cheerily and in a way that make Poodle seem stupid.

“Of which Bulldog and I will destroy you at.” Corgi pipes up, gesturing to the camper beside them, who I assume is Bulldog.

“Really? Don’t you have to be taller than 4’11 to do that, Corgster?” I growl, also crossing my arms, leaning closer to my challenger.

“Guys, stop.” Poodle interjets putting a hand on

“Say that to your stolen dogs.” They growl at Poodle, and a wave of protectiveness surges through me with some added adrenaline.

“Like you could steal anything, you couldn’t see over a rock if it moved.” I scoff, unsure of why I just did that, but you’ve gotta do what you gotta do to defend your dogs. At this, Corgi gets on their toes and goes to insult me back, their mouth open-

An alarm sounds off before things can get too heated, signalling breakfast.

“This isn’t finished.” Corgi barks, grabbing Bulldog and pulling them away. Bulldog rolls their eyes and puts their chin up, not giving us a second glance as they turn away

“What was that about?” Poodle asks, both angry and worried. Angry at the confrontation, worried about further ones.

“Nothing.” I reply simply, turning away from the duo and towards my partner.

“Whatever.” Poodle mumbles, rolling their eyes, clearly not looking to argue with me.

A tense silence ensues as we walk towards the cafeteria, unspoken words of anger between us. Adrenaline courses through my veins from the confrontation moments ago, blinding my senses.

In that moment, I irrationally decide to kiss Poodle’s cheek. Only god knows why I did it, but I don’t regret it. They stiffen up in surprise, and their face goes red. Oh no. I must’ve made them uncomfortable.

“Uh- I don’t know why I, I-I’m sorry, Poodle- I didn’t mean to make you upset-” I’m tripping over my words in embarrassment.

“No! It’s fine. I, uh, actually kinda liked it...” They trail off, looking down in embarrassment as they mutter the last part. Instead opting to kiss me on the cheek back to show that it’s okay.

“Oh.” I say in surprise, not expecting their velveteen lips to meet my skin so suddenly. Now I’m blushing.

Still not thinking straight because I’m too gay to function, I reach out and take Poodles hand in my own. I’m met with no resistance, which is the biggest relief to date. They move closer so our shoulders are touching as we walk. We don’t say anything, but I can tell the tension that was once between us has been obliterated. Gay love has truly pierced through the veil of death and saved the day.

Without words to focus on, though, my brain is racing with very… uh... un-platonic thoughts towards Poodle. But I’m not in love with them… right?

In this moment, my thoughts flashback to last year at camp, when Turquoise and Maroon were falling in love.

“They love me, they love me not.” I hear Maroon repeatedly say as they pick petals off of a rose.

“Who loves you?” I ask bluntly, causing Maroon to jump and blush.

“N-nobody.” I give them a stern look. “Turquoise...” They admit shyly, placing the picked flower down as I sit in front of them on the grass.

“What’re they like?” I ask sweetly, knowing how much of a hopeless romantic they are.

“They’re perfect, pibble. They’re everything I’ve ever dreamed of.” They get up and start to dance around. “Perfect Turquoise hair, like their name suggests. A hat and piercings that collide with my dress. Their eyes glimmer from the stars of a billion galaxies. Their personality perfectly intertwines with mine. They’re kind, reserved, passionate, incredible, and- ugh. The way their eyes light up when they talk about something they love makes me weak. The way they smile reminds me of sunshine peeking between the clouds. The way they talk, their voice. Even the way they carry themselves makes me sigh. They feel like my other half. They’re the Romeo to my Juliet, the Troy to my Gabriella, they’re my knight in shining armor, and I’m the damsel in distress. Everytime they look at me, I swear that time and the world both stop just to study us… no- the entire universe does.” They speak as if they are describing a dream.  

“But they probably don’t love me back.” They mumble in defeat as they lay back down on the ground, returning to reality.

“Have you asked?” I ask.

“Asked what?” They reply, reminded of my presence to their confession.

“If they do.” I state simply, confused as to why they don’t understand me when I’m being clear.

“Do what?” They inquire with mock innocence, and I catch onto the fact that they’re stalling.

“Love you.” I chuckle, amused by their inability to ask a simple question when they just became all Shakespeare on me.

“No, I don’t want to pester them.” They sigh, looking to the sky as if the universe was holding them away from their one true love.

“Then what are you doing over here? Go talk to them.” I abruptly say, getting up and stretching my hand out in a motion that says that they need to get up too.

“What? Are you serious?” They sputter, looking at me in utter shock.

“Did I stutter?” I reply sternly, and they reluctantly take my hand.

I tug them out of the meadow and onto the path through the forest. I don’t complain because I know that they’re nervous. No matter how much of a hopeless romantic they are, they’re still worried about all the negative things that could happen. Worrying about all of the what if’s. Pessimism is universal, it’s human nature to dwell on the worst outcomes of things. So, I stay silent, knowing that it’s probably best to stay that way for Maroon’s sake.

I see a lake and a person with curly turquoise hair, who I assume is Turquoise. They reach behind them and grab a stone before yeeting it with all their force towards the water, not even trying to skip them. A bag, which I hope is theirs, lays open next to the rock they’re sitting upon.

“Go get em, tiger.” I whisper before shoving Maroon towards them and running into the cover of the trees.

Turquoise turns to see Maroon stumbling in their direction, and blushes before fumbling to help the ‘damsel in distress’. Their hand goes underneath Maroon’s armpit to help the falling red-ish-head, and both blush.

I cannot hear them from where I sit, but I imagine that they’re both apologizing profusely to each other.

The duo goes over to the rock by the water and the bag, Maroon sitting first because Turquoise is quite the gentleperson.

They talk for awhile, and I debate on walking away because the sun’s going down and it’s getting cold. But, then I see Turquoises shoulder’s tense in a way that signals that they’re about to admit something.

After a few seconds, Turquoise reaches into their bag, and I have to squint to see what they pull out. From what I can see, it’s a bouquet of pink wildflowers, and my heart melts slightly for them.

Even though I can’t hear what they’re saying, the confusion on Maroon’s face is apparent. I can tell that Turquoise is really anxious too. They say something and Maroon brings their hands up to their mouth in shock. Oh no. That is not a good sign at all. Turquoise says something else, slightly louder, because I can hear it. I still can’t make out the words though. Maroon shakes their head, their mouth still covered. They’re shivering now.

Are they crying? If Turquoise broke Maroon’s heart with pink flowers at hand, I swear to god-

Turquoise is mostly shouting now, and I can finally make out the words.

“Yes! It is true! I’m not lying! I’ve completely and utterly fallen for you, Maroon. I’ve been waiting to confess to you for the longest time! I love you with all my heart, what can’t you see?” I can tell by the tone of their voice that they’re telling the truth.

Maroon just grasps their shirt and tugs them towards them, Turquoise closing the gap slowly, building tension between the lovers. Maroon brings their open hand up to lace into Turquoise’s curls. At the same time, Turquoise wraps their fingers around Maroon’s hips in order to pull them even closer in the already tight space. Just looking at it makes me feel slightly claustrophobic.

After they’re done, Maroon picks up Turquoise and spins them around, visibly ecstatic. I smile thoughtfully. Looks like Maroon got exactly what they always dreamed of; a knight in shining armor.

Poodle holds open the door to the cafeteria for me, and I’m instantly hit with the worst smell on earth. I nod them a ‘thank you’ before walking in. Thankfully I didn’t gag this year like I did last.

To be fair, I did a bit more than- ehrm- gag last year, persay. But I, uh, won’t go into too much detail about it.

The line is fairly short, considering that most people would rather die than even smell the food, and I feel lucky to be numb to the taste of utter shit. I know that this wouldn’t last long, though, as everybody will eventually get tired of hunger and give into the devil’s slop that the lunch maties serve.

Once we get to the front of the line, Poodle lets go of my hand. I guess I didn’t realize how much I loved the contact, because I already miss the feeling of our interlocked fingers. We both grab a styrofoam tray and get a good helping of whatever they’re serving. Once we’re out of the line, Poodle turns to me and asks:

“You wanna sit outside?” I smile.

“Yeah.” They smile back.

Once we’re out of the stuffy calfeteria, Poodle shifts their tray to one hand. They reach out their hand slightly and I realize what they want. I move my tray as well, because I think want it too. Once my right hand is free, they reach out and grab my hand needily.

Poodle POV

I melt the second I touch their hand. It’s only been about three minutes since I was last holding it, but god did I miss it. I look over to see them smiling at the ground. Their smile is really contagious.

“Okay, let’s find somewhere to sit.” I use a soft tone. They nod their head and blush. How am I pulling this off?

“C’mon.” I guide them across the pavilion and towards the forest. We keep walking until we reach the lake in the middle of the forest.

Pitbull stops for a second, and I see a flicker of recognition in their eyes. I step back to where they are and lean closer to them.

“You okay?” I ask, rubbing my thumb over their hand. My heart is beating so fast from being so close to them. They swallow and nod, giving me a small but genuine smile.

“That’s good. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t.” Move over peanut butter, I’m the new smoothest thing in town. Pitbull smiles a little more and glances up at me with a look in their eyes I think I’ll always remember.

We make our way down to the shore and sit down. The view of the lake is almost as gorgeous than the person sitting next to me. They're staring out at the lake with an unreadable expression.

“I really like your glasses.” I break the silence by blurting out a compliment.

I wonder why they never wear them. They're round rimmed with a rose gold frame. They deeply contrast my thick black square frames. The way the light catches through the lenses makes their freckles noticeable, and their eyes even more breathtaking.

“Oh- Thank you.” They stutter, blessing me with another blush and small smile. Somehow, I manage not to start crying from how beautiful they are.

“Of course~” HowamIpullingthisoff??? Instead of responding, they just look away with a shrug and shove a spoonful of the- what even is it? Sewage? Into their mouth.

I look down at my own tray of disgusting-whatever-this-is and grimace. I know I’ll have to eat it anyway. To get it over with, I pinch my nose and shovel it all down. Despite the taste being mostly masked, there is a bit of the revolting flavour. I shiver in disgust. I might throw up. I look to my left and see that Pitbull has finished already, watching me with a face of utter amusement. I feel my face flush.

“Glad to see that I’m not the only one who hates this stuff.” They giggle, and It’s the most beautiful sound that I’ve ever heard. So beautiful, in fact, that I find myself laughing with them.

“God help the man that does.” I say after we calm down a bit, and they chuckle in agreement with me.

After that, we get up and walk back to camp hand in hand, our disgusting trays in my right hand. The birds chirping quietly around us, and the most terrible taste in the back of my throat. I sigh, knowing that this is probably the last calm moment I’ll get for a while, with the mud run and all. Because of this, I enjoy this quiet moment even more.

Pitbull POV

Once we get back to the pavilion, the counselors are rounding everyone up for an announcement, and we see our absolute favorite counselor standing on a table with their whistle in their mouth. I brace myself for impact as they blow it like a dick, releasing the second loudest noise known to man, the first being Dan Howell screaming.

We scramble to the nearest seat, really not wishing to hear that noise twice in a row for the sake of our eardrums.

“Howdy campers! Are you guys ready for today’s activity?” She screams at us, her smile radiating with big satanic energy, and we all mumble our agreements quickly, not wanting a repeat of yesterday’s events. “We’re doing a mud run! Now go get changed and meet me at the end of trail #4.”

We all hurry away, and not because we’re eager for the activity. Poodle and I seperate in the crowd, and it’s too chaotic for me to look for them as of right now, so I just push towards my cabin so I can get this over with quickly.

Grabbing my ugliest tee shirt and shorts, I just change in the room because the pair hasn’t arrived yet, probably busy making out with each other somewhere. I also opt to lose the hat because I don’t want it to get ruined, pulling my hair up into a ponytail instead.

I open my phone and look myself over in the camera. I look like one of those people that works out at 6am, which makes me laugh slightly underneath my breath as I put my phone down onto my bed. I grab a pair of dollar store flip flops and jog out the door to go to Poodle’s cabin.

I reach said cabin and knock on the door three times, jumping slightly in excitement. I really really really want to hold Poodle’s hand, and it’s at least a 30 minute walk to where we’re supposed to be going.

The door opens to reveal Poodle, and I smile widely at them.

“Ready to go?” I ask, kissing their cheek randomly because that’s who I am now, apparently.

“After you, my lord.” They reply, taking my hand and kissing it while I just blush slightly, rolling my eyes and pulling them towards trail #4.

We walk in silence after that, our hands swinging between us every once in a while.

I’m not ready for what’s at the end of the trail.

A wall with four ropes on both sides of it sits in the middle of a huge mud lake. On one side, there’s tires and monkey bars, and on the other there’s a series of nets. I’m just thanking god that I took the annoying lady seriously.

After about five minutes of waiting, we call roll.

“Each of you will start at the end of the run with the tires, four at a time. You will be timed, and 30 seconds will be added to your time if you mess up or hit another one of the players. Your goal is to have the shortest time out of all the teams. Now, you and your partner have to stand together in line. Go!” A male counselor says before blowing his whistle, and we all obey immediately.

Luckily, Poodle and I are first in line, so we don’t have to wait long. Unfortunately, though, we’re with our besties, Corgi and Bulldog. I would know those piercing eyes anywhere.

“On the mark, campers!” The announcer booms.

“We’re going to destroy you guys.” Corgi snarls.

“Get set. . .”

“I’d like to see you try.” I growl back.

A gun goes off, and I run as fast as I can, zoning out. Adrenaline coursing through my veins as I complete the course.

Before I can even comprehend it, it’s all over and I’m standing next to Poodle, Bulldog, and Corgi, the winners being announced.

Poodle got first, Bulldog second, and me third. Corgi got 5th, but I wasn’t really in focus until after everybody was gone.

It was probably the shove that did the job.

“You cheated!” Corgi screams.

“Bullshit!” I yell back, too high on adrenaline too care about anything, shoving them even harder back. This just earns me a knuckle sandwich to the jaw.

Oh, it’s on now.

“Hey.” Poodle says sternly, grabbing my hand before I can give the other party any real damage, like I want to. I soften slightly, becoming a bit more rational again.

“I’m not fighting you.” I reply strongly, looking down towards Corgi, lowering my arm.

“Why, because you’ll lose.” They snarl, trying to get my blood to boil.

“Because what’s the point in fighting if both of you are going to lose.” Poodle begins. “Look around, buddy. You’ve lost. So what? You’re going to pick a fight with the first person you see? Why can’t y’all just call a truce or something.”

“Fine, I’ll truce you.” They mumble after taking in Poodle’s words for a few minutes, holding out their hand. I grasp their hand strongly, asserting dominance and shaking it in agreeance. “But this doesn’t mean that we’re friends.”

“Didn’t plan on it meaning that we were friends, buddy.” I reply, earning a glare from Poodle.

We part ways, Corgi giving me the ‘sassy’ hips and Bulldog loudly congratulating themselves, saying that the system was probably rigged because they didn’t get first place. We wait a few moments, waiting until we can’t hear Bulldog, before we continue behind them.

There’s a lot of handholding on the way back, like there was on the way there, but this time we’re complaining about how we both really need showers because the mud is extremely uncomfortable.

“We should take a shower together.” Poodle jokes.

“Conserve water. Save the turtles.” I joke back.

We continue joking about taking a shower together for ‘environmental benefits’. We even joke before we part to get our clothes, and joke when we join again. We joke until we actually get into the showers.

“Should we actually take a shower together?” Poodle jokingly asks, but I don’t think that it’s half bad of an idea after really thinking about it.

“Sure, why not?” I say, grabbing their hand and leading them into the biggest stall.

“W-what?” They sputter out, not sure if I’m joking or not.

“To save the turtles.” I state jokingly, but look at them in a way that lets them know that I’m not actually joking, but am totally okay if they don’t want to.

“To save the turtles.” They giggle, stepping in with me shyly, and I smirk, pulling the curtain closed.

I place our clothes onto the bench after taking Poodle’s, and start stripping, with my back turned to them, starting with my shirt. As I unbuckle my pants, I feel a warm hand brush the dirt off of my shoulders, and it would’ve startled me if I wasn’t familiar with it’s heat.

As quickly as it was there, it’s gone, but I hear the faucet release liquid.

I hurry up on getting undressed, sick of the grime upon my skin, before getting into the shower with my back still turned to them, not wishing to make them uncomfortable.

After a couple of minutes, a tap makes its presence known on my shoulder, and I turn around to meet its source. Green eyes look at me, clearly nervous. I step aside, allowing them to go beneath the domesticated rain. They accept my invitation gracefully, looking up to allow the water access to their skin.

Watching the dirt come off of them is satisfying, to say the least. The way it slowly goes away, running down towards the drain in gentle streams against an equally gentle human being. Small streams of water run down their cheeks, shoulders, and back when they’re not directly beneath the source.

After a few minutes, they turn to me, not knowing what to do next. I turn away, grabbing a bottle of lavender soap and squirting some into my free hand.

I put the bottle down and begin to rub my hands together to create bubble, dancing as I do to get Poodle to laugh, of which they do. I then take the mixture and begin to lather the other half’s hair.

I finally get to lace my fingers between the blonde ringlets, even if they are a bit loser now that they’re wet. I’m careful to be gentle, but I still make sure I’m being thorough.

After I’m completed, I look up and blow a bubble with my hand. Poodle looks at me dumbfounded, jaw slightly agape.

“Want to learn how to do it?” I ask them, and they nod eagerly.

I wash off my hands before grabbing the bottle again, this time squirting some into Poodle’s hands instead of mine. I put their hands together, placing my hands over the back of each other and making them do a rubbing motion, slowly getting sillier until they laugh.

“Now, take you hand and put it into a fist and then make it an ‘okay’ sign. Blow through the part of your hand that looks like a circle.” I instruct them, and they do exactly as I say, getting a bubble.

They giggle, and do it a few more times. Everytime looking at me for assurance that they’re doing it right.

After they stop blowing bubbles, they take their already soaped up hands and begin to run their fingers into my hair softly. So soft, in fact, that I barely notice it.

When they’re done, I wash it out and turn off the water, the two of us going to dry off and get dressed.

Eventually, we end up in my cabin with wet heads and tired eyes. We cuddle up together and fall asleep.

Today’s a free day, so Poodle and I stay at my cabin while Maroon and Turquoise go mess around somewhere. Poodle’s on their phone while I’m reading my book.

“Pibble.” Poodle starts after a couple hours of comfortable silence, and I make a humming noise from where I’m sitting, indicating that they have my attention as they put down their phone. “I have something to confess.”

“Well, what is it?” I ask after they pause for too long, placing my bookmark in my book and closing it, setting it on the floor beside me.

“I can’t tell you. Not yet. In three hours I will, but not now.” They reply, hurrying off before I could say much else, leaving me alone with a million of unanswered questions and prodding thoughts.

So, around the room I pace, checking the time every 10 seconds, knowing that today’s the day that I am going to confess as well, though it’s probably something else.

I’m feeling nervous at Poodle’s wording, and time’s almost up. What do they want to confess to me? I mean, I’m no priest, and I don’t plan on being one anytime soon.

I suppose that the nerves aren’t completely Poodle’s fault though, because today is the day that I’m going to confess. I go to leave my cabin and look for Poodle.

Before I can do that, though, I run directly into said person.

I can’t process what’s happening because I’m met with the most striking eyes I’ve ever seen. Is this the same Poodle that I’ve come to fall in love with?

Their eyes are a breathtaking green laced with turquoise. They’re warm and soft. Nothing at all like Corgi’s sharp, dangerous ones.

How have I never noticed them before? Now that I’m so close, I can see other small things I’d never picked up on before.

Like the way their curly hair falls so effortlessly across their forehead, so perfect and blonde and loopy. The small ringlets are just begging me to lace my fingers delicately through them. To allow them to be what pulls me closer to their holder’s face.

Like how their nose tapers to a perfect point, holding their glasses elegantly. Even if they will get in the way when I hold them close.

Like how their lips show their plumpness even when they’re curled up into a sort of half smile. Their lips are perfect, not chapped or cracked in anyway, and probably feel slightly damp when touched. I imagine that they’d taste like strawberries when kis-

“You okay, Pit?” Their smooth voice cuts through my unreasonable thoughts. I can feel their breath. It still smells like cinnamon. I turn red, realizing I’d been staring at them for far too long.

“O-oh, uh, I-I-” My anxiety stops the words from coming out. I’ve made an utter fool of myself.

Not bothering to explain, I shove them away from me and slam the door in their face, turning the lock before they even get the chance to spit out any questions.

Why did I do that? They have to hate me now. They have to be mad at me. Why wouldn’t they be? Not only did I run into them without apology, but I also shoved them and slammed the door into their face.

I don't even bother to climb up the ladder instead grabbing my pillow and launching myself onto the floor. I violently grab my pillow and hold it close to my face, tears leaving my eyes as if the dirt orbs on my face were sprinklers.

I feel the anxiety eat me alive. My airway begins to close as I sob harder and harder. I pull my legs towards my face as far as they’ll go and gripping my hair with my hands, entering the fetal part of my anxiety attack.

There’s pounding against the wooden door, but at this point it might just be my heart because it’s beating so fast. If this doesn’t kill me, I don’t know what will.

I feel like I’m drowning on air.

Poodle POV

Pitbull’s clearly not going to open the door, but I keep pounding and trying the knob every three seconds, my fists throbbing in pain. It’s only when my knuckles begin to bleed do I stop, instead pacing and looking for a spare key or an open window.

I flick the window that I came through last night, my final hope. No answer. I flick it again and again, met with the same result every time.

I guess Pitbull just hates me. I don’t know what I did, maybe it was something that I said, but they hate me. That’s the only explanation that makes sense at this point in time.

I sigh, putting my head in my hands and slowly sliding down the wall next to the glass, completely defeated. I don’t know who I’ll spend the rest of my life with.

After a few minutes or hours or however long it’s been, I pull myself up off of the ground. My shattered heart stabs into my throat, but all I can do is hold back tears. I swallow my emotions the best I can before walking to my cabin to get extra clothes before heading to the showers.

Life is dull, slow, and useless. My feet feel heavier than my breath, both of which weigh me down. I shiver slightly, even though it’s probably 90 degrees Farenheit out, the sun glowing dully between the clouds. I drag my shoes through the dirt as I walk, feeling like an emotional zombie.

I take the nearest shower, tossing my spare clothes onto the bench before turning the shower on.

I harshly rip my clothes off of my body and the shoes off of my feet before stepping beneath the warm water.

Or so I thought it’d be warm considering it’s been heating up for at least 5 minutes.

I crank the heat onto the faucet until it can no longer produce hotter water. And then it dawns upon me.

It’s not the shower that’s cold, it’s me.

I glance down to my scarred knuckles, no longer covered in blood because it’s been washed but still littered with deep purple bruises and obvious cuts.

My mind flashes back to Pitbull. The way their nose holds their glasses so delicately, how their freckles dance across their face in the sun, how their hands perfectly in mine, how they would smile and blush when I complimented them, how cold they looked when they slammed the door on me. It makes my broken heart ache.

It’s then, and only then, do I allow the sobs to leave my body.

I take my hands to muffle the sound the best I can, not wanting to be caught or disturb anybody else who may be in here with me.

My entire body shakes violently with the first round of tears, and it only goes down from there. After a few seconds, my knees become too weak to hold me, giving out beneath me. So, I sob on the floor instead of on my feet.

I guess it’s just better this way.

[winetae]

⇾ through the flames (and into the lava)

⇁ female reader x jungkook 

⇁ smut, fluff, slight humor, crack || dragon!jk, fantasy!au i guess

⇁ public indecency, dry humping, fingering, non-penetrative sex, cumplay, i’m sorry

⇁ 7.9k

. . .

Your boyfriend is a dragon.

Or so he claims.

↳ or; the perks (and unexpected complications) of dating a fucking dragon

a/n; this is what happens when drunk ave gets an idea and rolls with it. ty to my friends for providing dragon porn and for entertaining my weird ideas !! and to mj who cheered me through the last 4k 

.

.

You boyfriend is a dragon.

Or so he claims

(something about being the 62nd descendant of Gaivripheonth, Champion of the Eastern Skies and— yeah).

It’s not the best kept secret, either.

Jungkook is all but five when he stands at the summit of the playground slide and roars out, “I AM A DRAGOOOOON!” before Jimin pushes him down impatiently, tired of waiting for his turn. While most kids run away from Jungkook, the self-proclaimed neighborhood dragon, or accuse him of fabricating lies, you are the only one who stands by his side.

But although Jungkook is your friend, that doesn’t mean you’re convinced he’s a dragon. You’re still waiting for proof on that one. (”What do you mean you can’t fly? What kind of useless dragon can’t fly?”)

One would think by now he would have grown out of his childhood phase, but his identity crisis goes on for longer than anyone expects it to. Years later and he’s still adamant about being a dragon’s offspring. He’s less vocal about it than before, but the mania for dragons has yet to die down. It’s cute, though. You don’t mind listening to him talk about his reptilian lineage from time to time. Some people like to talk about their favorite football player for hours on end. Jungkook? He would rather talk about his granddaddy dragon. It honestly doesn’t bother you in the slightest.

You watch Jungkook swing himself back and forth, propelling himself high up into the air with powerful kicks. As the swing frame creaks and wobbles ominously, you can’t help but worry for his safety. One wrong move and the chains could snap, Jungkook hurtling into the air, arms outstretched in a poor imitation of dragon wings. You don’t have the heart to chide him for his recklessness, suddenly recalling all the times he had scraped his knees and hands while trying to reach the skies.

Up until now, Jungkook has always been heedless of the danger of his actions. It’s something you both love and hate about him—his impulsiveness, his passion, the way his emotions are never suppressed or filtered. These traits land him into trouble more often than not, sometimes even dragging you along for the ride, but at least you can say life with Jungkook is never boring. So it’s not that you don’t care about him, but you’ve long since learnt Jungkook is made of tougher stuff than his baby face lets on.

”Did you see that? I almost touched it!”  Jungkook babbles, gesturing wildly to illustrate his point, showing off the grass stains and streaks of dirt he wears like battle scars. “I got real close I could almost taste it on my tongue.”

He sticks out his tongue at you but you dodge quickly, cringing when you see him wag the dark purple-stained muscle. You can smell the artificial sweetness from where you’re standing; you know he knows you hate grapes and he’s just doing this to annoy you. 

“You almost killed yourself, that’s what!” you huff back, poking him on the forehead. He bats your hand away, pouting. He’s about to say something annoying again, you can tell by the way his face scrunches up, but before any of that happens your eyes land on the growing burnt-red blotch on his knee. Tiny pieces of gravel stick to his skin and the sight makes your stomach twist unpleasantly. “Kookie, you’re bleeding! Oh God, you’re dying! You’re so stupid, Kookie, you killed yourself!”

“It’s just blood. I’m not dying.” He rolls his eyes, ignoring your hysterics. You then spot a long, thin gash by his elbow and nearly faint. Your eyes well up with tears, the sight of blood and ripped up skin making you nauseous. “You think this would kill me? I’m a dragon! I am eternal.”

You fear he’s finally lost it.

“If you’re going to die, do it quietly!” you cry harder, rubbing your runny nose with your sleeve. “I’m trying to grieve.”

You’ve long since outgrown the playground he used to chase you around in, frame too large to squeeze down the slide, but the familiar setting makes you feel nostalgic in the best of ways.

Jungkook slowly skids to a stop, black dust swirling into the air. He looks winded, a bit out of breath, like he’s just run a marathon and a half, when he turns to you and grins like he’s just gone and devoured the sun.

Even after all these years, it’s difficult to take Jungkook seriously when he waxes poetics for his scaly mythological ancestors. You hide an amused smile behind a curled fist while he puffs his chest out, recounting the gripping tale of the defeat of Armand the Dragon Slayer. He paints pictures of snow-capped mountains, too steep and dangerous to climb by foot, and one cave, whose contents were coveted by every neighboring kingdom.

“Once you enter—it’s as if time stands still. There are no sun and stars to indicate that time has slipped away,” he explains, drawing circles into the dust with his feet. “Only cold, impenetrable darkness. Perpetual night. But if you tread carefully enough, you’ll find it—the gold.” 

The sun is setting, bathing the playground in an orange glow. For a fleeting moment, Jungkook’s eyes shine amber and you can see the countless piles of gold and rubies reflected in his pupils.

You blink and amber fades back into brown.

Jungkook weaves his fingers between yours and pulls, the sudden movement sending you into straight into his lap. Immediately you feel the seat sink down, the additional weight making the chains groan loudly. Distantly, you worry you’ll be to blame if the entire thing falls apart but the unease soon ebbs away when Jungkook cants your head so he can stare at you levelly.

Your heart stutters in your chest when you meet his gaze that’s two thirds endearment and one third mischief. You’re so unaccustomed to the smirk that settles on his lips and the look he gives you, laden with hunger, that you almost coil back in shock.

The dating thing is still relatively new and everytime he toes into non-platonic territory you never know how to react. After being previously stuck in the friend zone for so long, there are times you find yourself at a loss, not knowing how to behave around him. Despite the official change in your relationship status, things aren’t any different from the way they used to be before. For the most part, Jungkook still treats you like his best friend—which in many ways is a relief, albeit a tad frustrating, because you want him to also treat you like his girlfriend.

It’s sweet that he’s willing to take things slowly. But how much slower can they get? You’ve known each other since you were able to waddle around in the sandbox… You’ve been experiencing the slow burn romance for nearly your entire life. So, yeah, sometimes it can get a bit frustrating, but as much as you want to shift gears and head into the fast lane, you know deep down you prefer the unhurried tempo he’s set.

“You know how this story ends, don’t you?”

“Yeah, Armand probably got roasted. Literally.” You answer back in a daze, distracted by the way the tip of his tongue prods out to wet his lips. “I’ve seen The Hobbit.”

Jungkook adjusts your body so that you’re comfortably splayed on his lap. You’re acutely aware of how the thin material of your skirt makes it easy to feel his rough denim jeans and the thighs of steel they cover. You swallow thickly, trying to appear unaffected but his smirk mocks your unsuccessful attempt at composure. 

“The Hobbit isn’t the most accurate depiction of us,” he clucks his tongue, strong arm circling your waist to hold you tighter against his chest, the faint scent of fabric softener engulfing you.

Remembering how to breathe proves to be a difficult task when he leans in to whisper, “but they were right about one thing. Dragons don’t like when others touch their prized possessions.”

“Are you saying you own me, Jeon Jungkook?” You pinch his cheek, jiggling the skin back and forth until he attempts to twist away from your grip with a wince. “If anything, I own you.”

“Why do you always have to make things about you? I didn’t even mention your name,” he whines, rubbing the blooming red mark on his face. “You’re so self-centered.”

“Sure,” you hum in agreement. “But you’re mine, right?”

You freeze when you realize what you’ve said but it’s too late to take it back now. Uncertainty seizes you, and you’re scared you’ve said something too brazen, too quickly. You try to pass it off as a joke but it’s been well over a decade since Jungkook’s known you, so he sees right through whatever front you put up.

“Yours,” he agrees easily, and then leans in to slant his lips against your own.

Jungkook is a far cry from the numerous fables and myths you’ve read and heard about. Dragons are reptiles (you assume, because you’ve never met one—save for Jungkook, but he doesn’t count). Dragons are supposed to be cold-blooded, and covered in an armor of scales, ice cold to the touch.

But with every press of his lips, you feel yourself melting, fire fueling through your veins and making your blood run hot with desire. Jungkook is warm, so warm you want to properly melt into him, mold yourself against his body to feel every line and ridge. The thoughts that cross your mind make you flush with arousal but instead of pulling back and blushing profusely like you would have normally done, you boldly swipe your tongue across his bottom lip.

Jungkook’s large hands squeeze your hip in response, fabric bunching up between his fingers. The drag of the cotton against your skin makes a shiver run down your spine, and you rock forward into his embrace driven entirely by instinct.

In the back of your mind, you can only imagine how scandalous the pair of you must look defiling the childrens’ swings set like a couple of hormonal teenagers. It’s indecent, you repeat to yourself, trying to get a hold of your senses that are being shrouded with lust.  

Everything requires careful maneuvering and restrained movements; you have to be mindful not to undulate your hips too forcefully into his, lest you push him off balance and you both fall off the swing. Even with that in mind, rationality flies out the metaphorical window when his teeth graze your lower lip. 

The grating squeaks of the chains do little to deter you, too preoccupied with Jungkook’s warm hands caressing your back, your shoulders, and neck to take heed of your surroundings. Nothing can interrupt you now, not when things are finally heading in the direction you want. 

Jungkook nips at your bottom lip, peppering hot kisses across the underside of your jaw, the tingling sensation aroused by his mouth robbing you of coherent thought. Jungkook grows more confident, emboldened by your reactions, and a hand sneaks it way to your breast. The heat emanating from his palm, obscured only by the material of your shirt and undergarment, sends a rush of arousal through your body. You’re nothing short of overwhelmed as his teeth dig into a sensitive spot on your neck and his thumb finds your hardened nipple that pebbles through the layers of fabric. Without warning, he presses down on your sensitive flesh with a flick of his thumb.

Your reaction is immediate, back arching shamelessly into his hand, silently seeking more friction, while your hips roll into his with thinly veiled desperation. You bite down a moan, fingers tugging the hairs at the nape of his neck, unsure whether to push him away or pull him impossibly closer. Jungkook gives a tentative thrust of his own, seat creaking under him, and you let out an embarrassing loud moan that has Jungkook groaning in turn against the damp skin of your neck.

Suddenly, you pull back with a gasp and if it wasn’t for Jungkook’s secure grip on your waist, you would have flailed off his lap and onto the ground. For a moment you wonder if you’re hallucinating, too drunk on arousal to think straight, but Jungkook shares your bewildered expression.

“I’m—”

“Jungkook, what was that?”

He blinks.

“Jungkook…” You tilt his chin up and examine his face from all possible angles. Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary, but you’re certain the rings of smoke drifting up into the air are not a product of your imagination. “Jungkook, I think steam came out of your nostrils.”

He gulps audibly and regards you with a guarded look, “that’s never happened before…” He opens his mouth as if to add something but then shuts it, cheeks tainted pink.

“What is it, Kookie?” you ask worriedly, hand palming the side of his face so he couldn’t escape your inquisitive stare.

“I heard that… I heard that could happen,” he says slowly, like he’s chewing his words out. “Steam can come out of my ears or nose if I’m angry. It happens to my dad, sometimes, but I didn’t know it was a thing that could happen to me.”

“Ah…” is all you can muster.

“Are you scared?”

“Uh, no, scared isn’t my word of choice. I’m just— I don’t really know… It’s just weird, I guess.“ You’re still trying to process this new development, mind whirring with thousands of questions.

“A bad weird?”

“No, not a bad weird,” you reply truthfully, fingers twiddling with the strings of his hoodie. “I’m just confused… I have a lot of questions.”

“Go ahead,” he nudges.

“It’s a lot to take in at once, but…“ You trail off, too hesitant to ask anything. 

There is so much you want to know but you’re uncertain where you should even start. Some questions seem too silly to utter out loud so you remain silent (even though you are dying to know how the heck dragons reproduce and end up making human-looking babies). The more you think about it, the less everything makes sense to you. But then again, dragons in general are a concept you’ve never taken seriously. Until today, that is. 

You decide to play it safe, reluctant to start off with the serious questions right away. “Why were you angry?”

“Wasn’t angry.” Jungkook bows his head, fringe falling in front of his eyes to avoid your scrutiny. “Can happen when I feel intense emotions.”

You mull over his words, taking in his embarrassed stance. It’s a rare sight to behold and makes you wonder why he’s acting this way, especially when he’s never been ashamed of his lineage. On the contrary, he’s always been proud of his dragon heritage which is why you’re confused as to why he’s suddenly acting bashful. 

“Kookie, did the steam come out because you were horny?” You try your best to keep the snicker out of your voice but that evidently fails when he pinches your side in playful retaliation.

“You’re okay with it, though?” He bites his lip, thumb rubbing the exposed skin near the waistband of your skirt. Goosebumps prickle where he touches you, but you wisely choose to ignore the way he’s affecting you for now, too busy trying to wrap your head around the fact your boyfriend is an actual fucking dragon.

“M’yeah, it’s—” you cut yourself off, unsure. So much has happened in the past ten minutes that it’s hard to formulate coherent sentences. “I mean, it’s definitely not normal, but it’s not, like, it’s not a deal breaker. I just…” There’s a short pause as you try to gather your thoughts. “You’re a dragon?”

“I am,” he rolls his eyes, but you can tell he looks less tense by the way the muscles on his face relax. “Why are you so surprised? I’ve been telling you I’m a dragon for ages.”

“Yeah, but it’s different now,” you argue, arms crossed defensively. “Is there anything else I should know about? Like, I dunno, scales? Claws? Perhaps a dragon soulmate that will tear me to shreds for allowing you to touch my left boob?”

“You’ve seen me shirtless.” His nose crinkles and it tells you he’s trying hard not to roll his eyes at your expense. “I don’t have scales. Or an angry dragon soulmate.”

”Why are you acting like I’m being ridiculous? I’m not the one who blew smoke out of my nose because I got a little too excited…” You raise yourself off his lap, readjusting your skirt. 

The red sun hangs low in the sky and the last traces of sunlight are not nearly enough to keep you warm after untangling your legs from Jungkook’s. You wrap your arms around yourself, lost in thought. 

Admittedly, you don’t know how else to react to the situation other than to joke around, “I just want to know what I should be expecting next… What if you breathe out fire when you cum? Do you, by the way? I deserve to know. Don’t want you burning my hair off when you bust a nut.” 

“You are ridiculous,” he snorts, stretching out his long limbs before getting to his feet, autumn leaves crackling under his weight. “Spitting fire when… Ha.”

“Well, do you?”

“I don’t!” he groans, running his fingers through his locks in exasperation. 

“Okay, if you say so,” you acquiesce, placing your hand in his outstretched one. 

You glance down at your intertwined hands, silently relishing the way the warmth of his skin cocoons your small fist. That’s when you realize the revelation holds no sway over your emotions because dragon or not, Jungkook is still the love of your life and the best friend you occasionally want to punch in the face. It’s been a gradual process, the shift from friends to lovers, so at times your heart does still oscillate between the two. 

It’s strange, to say the least. For the longest time, you’ve separated your romantic feelings from your platonic ones. The line had been clearly drawn: Jungkook was either your friend or your lover—never both. So it’s difficult to adhere to the notion that the terms are not mutually exclusive. It’s something you both struggle with if the pace of your relationship is anything to go by.

Jungkook squeezes your hand in his and gives you a smile so genuinely sweet your heart swells with affection. 

You don’t want to admit it verbally, especially knowing how much your friends would tease you, but you’re quite certain your feelings would stay unchanging. He could sprout a tail the next day and you would still love his scaly ass.

I’m so fucking whipped, you inwardly groan right before you squeeze his hand back.

.

.Before you know it, winter quickly sets in, snowflakes frosting the ground, the playground now covered in a thick blanket of white. You’ve never been more thankful your boyfriend is a dragon (or a long lost descendant of one). His body is a furnace, insides made of molten lava that chase away any cold-induced numbness. 

After that tryst on the children’s swing, you expect your relationship to keep on progressing in that direction. Yet over the next few weeks, things go back to the snail’s pace you’re used to. Everything is perfectly fine the way things are, you convince yourself. You’re content with cuddles on the couch by the fireplace and soft kisses under the dim porch light.

Still, you can’t help but feel like a big pervert at times, especially when you catch yourself studying his fingers when he chops up vegetables on the cutting board or the way his shoulders flex under his shirt when he changes the light bulb that hangs overhead the buffet. You reluctantly learn to dial back the attraction you feel in his presence, resigning yourself to chaste hugs and pg-13 caresses. 

That’s why you’re surprised when you find yourself catching your breath, pulse racing with urgent need, bra strap sliding off your shoulder blades and goosebumps littering your skin. You’re so accustomed to the unofficial “no touching” rule, that the abrupt development throws you completely off-guard.

It takes a few dizzying seconds for you to float back down to earth but once you do your eyes blow open when you take in Jungkook’s bare form. When had his clothes come off? You can’t remember anything but the strong scent of juniper and black cedarwood and the burn of his hands as they stroked your body into overdrive.

Your eyes trail down his well-defined chest, admiring the way the sheen of sweat makes his skin glisten like an oiled painting, when suddenly your gaze lands on his crotch. A shriek spills from your lips before you have time to subdue your visceral reaction.

Jungkook is tall, taller than the other guys your age, and you’ve always loved his larger, broader frame. It comes in handy sometimes, like when you need to reach something on the top shelf or when the ceiling needs to be repainted. He’s always been taller and bigger in every possible aspect, one of his hands easily covering your own, so it really shouldn’t surprise you that Jungkook is particularly well endowed down there, too.

You just don’t expect it to be that huge.

“What is that?”

Jungkook raises his eyebrows at your slightly horrified expression, visibly taken aback by your reaction. 

His clothes are thrown haphazardly on the floor, your sweater hanging off the corner of the bed—all proof of your pent up passion. But as much as you would like to continue on with no interruptions, your discovery puts a halt to your original intentions. 

“What does it look like?” he asks dryly, unimpressed by your theatrics.

“Uh, it looks like it’s going to tear my vag in two, that’s what it looks like.” You sit up straight, not bothering to hide the panic that suddenly wracks your small frame. 

You know size is something people usually like to brag about but Jungkook’s impressive length and girth only intimidate you. Sweat trickles down the side of your neck the more you try to picture his dick penetrating you. Frankly speaking, you doubt it’ll ever fit inside you, let alone for it to be a pleasurable experience… 

At a glance, the feat seems impossible. Jungkook isn’t even fully hard and his member already looks like some kind of weapon ready to destroy you. You’re desperately hoping he’s a shower and not a grower because otherwise you’ll be saying goodbye to your vagina.

“Kookie, it’s the size of my fucking forearm!”

“Why are you always so dramatic? It’s not, oh my— you are ridiculous.” He swats your arm away from his genitals, an offended look marring his features.

“Okay, it’s not,” you relent, before mumbling under your breath, “barely.”

“Fucking chill,” he sighs, rubbing his temple. “I’m not going to shove it in, okay? We’ll take it slow. Don’t worry, babe.”

His words of reassurance only have the opposite desired effect. You trust Jungkook not to shove it in, but regardless of his intentions, you can only see this ending badly. 

You wriggle around on the sheets, trying to find the most comfortable position. “Of course I’m worried,” you shoot back, gulping audibly, eyes still fixated on his dick. “Is that… Is that a dragon thing, too?”

“Maybe?” He looks down at his dick with a look of deep contemplation. “Want me to ask my dad?” 

“Shut the fuck up, you’re killing the mood.”

“Screaming as soon as you saw my dick didn’t exactly help either,” Jungkook points out as he flops down next to you on the bed, mattress squeaking loudly in protest.

You roll over on your side so you can face him properly. Jungkook shifts in response and throws a heavy arm over your shoulders, pulling you close so that the space separating your bodies vanishes. You automatically sink into his familiar embrace, accustomed to the way your soft curves fit against his torso.

A comfortable silence envelops the pair of you. As much as the constant bickering and back-and-forth banter entertains you, the lulls in conversations are a welcome reprieve. You take the time to map out the beauty marks near his collarbones, feeling the thrum of his heartbeat beneath the pads of your fingertips. His body is strong and sturdy, muscles flexing under the light drag of your nails. 

“Hey.” A slow grin curves at his lips when you turn to look up at him. 

You decide you like these quiet moments the most. There’s really nowhere else you would rather be than in his arms, one hand petting the crown of your head in a calming gesture while the other one holds you close to his chest. It feels kind of domestic, somehow, and has you thinking about the infinite possibilities a future with Jungkook holds. 

It’s during times like these you let yourself entertain the thought of waking up every day in Jungkook’s arms, legs tangled together, his face nuzzled in your hair or the crook of your neck, chest rising steadily under the palm of your hand. You think about this often, actually. More often than you’ll ever admit. 

“Hi,” you smile back.

“We don’t have to, you know.” He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. The sincerity that drips off his words has your stomach fluttering.

“Don’t have to what?”

“We don’t have to have sex. Don’t want to pressure you into anything. I’m good with whatever you want, babe,” he admits, eyes bright with endearment.

Something flares in your chest. You recognize the feeling right away; the surge of competitiveness that shoots up your spine whenever he insinuates you’re too chicken has gotten you into trouble time and time again. And although you know that’s not what he’s implying this time, you stubbornly hold on to the urge to prove him wrong.

So, as much as you appreciate the sentiment—

“I want to!” Your statement comes out more forceful than intended but you refuse to back down now. “I want to have sex with you, it’s just, well… Slow, right?”

“We can go slow,” Jungkook agrees at once, corners of his mouth upturned into a reassuring smile. “We’ll go as slow as we need to… I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Yeah, okay.” You worry your lower lip which he notices immediately. He traces the seam of your mouth with his thumb, forcing you to stop rolling the flesh between your teeth.

“Hey— We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. You can always change your mind; it’s okay, babe.”

“I know,” you stress. “I’m just a little nervous. Your schlong is longer than a fucking parsnip so I’m worried you’re going to spear me open.”

“Shut up,” grumbles Jungkook, embarrassed. 

“You have three legs,” you press on, unaware of his anxious fidgeting. “Do they even make condoms in your size?”

He laughs in response but you’ve known him for so long now that you can tell right away that something is wrong. Maybe it’s the way his eyes refuse to meet your own or the way the sound cuts off in his throat. The forced expression on his face is like a physical punch to the gut. 

You did that. 

Something ugly twists in your stomach and you feel sick. You’re hit with the alarming realization that you’ve been horribly insensitive, completely disregarding Jungkook’s feelings and his own apprehension. Guilt weighs down on you and you want to kick yourself for being such an asshole. 

You have the tendency to cover up your anxiety by joking around. But you’re old enough to know that it doesn’t give you a pass for being an asshat—especially when Jungkook has been nothing but kind and patient with you. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you apologize, taking his hand in yours. “I’m sorry.”

“I know you didn’t.” He squeezes your hand in his, wordlessly forgiving you. “It’s just— It sucks, you know? I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I wish my cock was smaller.”

“No, it’s— “

“I want to have sex normally, without having to worry about whether my partner’s vagina will still be functioning once we’re done,” he continues, visibly worked up. “People always go on about wanting a pornstar dick but once they see mine they want to run to the fucking Himalayas. Yeah, sorry, I just… Yeah.” 

You swallow, feeling like absolute shit for reacting the way you did. It’s not like Jungkook chose to have a giant dick… The last thing you want is for him to feel ashamed or guilty for his body which is something he has no control over in any case.

“Jungkook, I’m honestly really sorry. I was being a bitch. Your dick size doesn’t actually matter to me—you know that right? I’d still love you regardless. You could have horns and a scaly back. I really don’t care about that.” 

“Yeah?”

“’Course not.” You smile up at him, rose dusting your cheeks. “I was in love with you before I even knew those limp noodles were called dicks.”

He snorts, the sound escaping before he can bite it down. The sound makes your lips quirk up in response. The tight ball of nerves in your chest unfurls and the muscles in your shoulders go lax. You still regret being that insensitive over an issue that clearly bothers him but you’re glad he’s accepted your apology, even if you don’t deserve it.

“Sex isn’t a necessary step. I didn’t fall for you because of your dragon dick.”

“Oh, you didn’t?” Jungkook feigns disappointment. “And here I thought my monstrous size was what won you over…”

“We’ll work up to it,” he adds once your giggles die down. “We’ll go as slow as we need to. I have all the time in the world to get you ready for my cock.”

“You know we can have sex without penetration, right?” 

“You want to give it a go now?” he hums jokingly, nudging your nose with his own. 

“I’m pretty dry right now.” 

“Yeah? It’s nothing I can’t work with.” A sly smirk pulls at his lips causing you to huff at his cockiness. 

“We’ll see about that. Get to it, babe,” you mock, goading him on.

“Are you doubting me right now?” He chuckles lowly and the sound shoots straight to your core. He leans in, close enough for the warmth of his breath to tickle your ear, “I’ll make you take me seriously.”

And with that he bites down on your lobe. Your body jerks forward at the unexpected sting, chest crashing into his. Jungkook traces the sides of your flank before grabbing your ass, skin soft and pliant under his palms. He squeezes, smirking when you shudder in his hold, before his hands come crashing down with an audible slapping sound that echoes in the quiet of his room.

“Wha—” You’re cut off as his mouth presses against yours, chapped lips melding against your own.

You can’t help but rut forward, thighs rubbing together, seeking any form of relief you can find.

“Fuck, okay,” you whimper as he pulls away to catch his breath. “Here, like this.”

He digs the pads of his fingertips into your cheeks while rolling onto his back. Instinctively you tighten your hold around him, body sinking into his like mush. You find yourself splayed out on top of him, his strong hands keeping your pelvis attached to his own, his hardening dick poking your thigh. 

You sit up, adjusting yourself so that you’re now perched comfortably atop his growing erection. The sight of him sprawled out underneath you is so tempting that only your last remaining traces of sanity prevent you from jumping his bones right then and there. Instead of ravishing him like a woman gone mad, you roll your hips, keenly aware that the last barrier separating your bodies makes it easy to feel his hardness drag against your soaked center.

“That’s right, ride my cock,” he smirks, hands still groping your ass. 

Any witty retort dies in your throat the moment he rocks into you, meeting one of your tentative hip thrusts. Wetness soaks through your ruined lace and coats his member in a sheen layer of slick. You can barely feel the sodden material, too lost in pleasure, but a well-timed thrust has the fabric rubbing against your clit, rendering you speechless. Only heavy pants fall from your lips, face flushed with exertion, the muscles in your thighs trembling with effort. 

“So good for me,” he bites his lip in an effort to muffle his groans. “You’re always so good for me. My good girl.”

His words go straight to your bundle of nerves, fueling your rampant desire, and you roll down your hips more forcefully, doing your best to alleviate the pressing ache. Your core burns with the need for attention and it soon becomes apparent that your inexperienced undulations are not nearly enough friction.

Jungkook pulls you down and kisses you, teeth clashing into yours as he rolls you over once more, looking like a man starved and on a mission.

With nimble fingers, he quickly peels off the useless undergarment and lets it fall to the ground without a second glance, knees nudging your legs apart. 

At once, his jaw goes slack, black orbs feasting on the way you glisten for him, and takes his index and middle finger and pulls your lips apart for a better view. The direct contact with your sensitive skin makes you jolt, moan stuck in your throat. 

Jungkook mutters your name reverently, in awe, watching you intently with evident arousal marred onto his features.

“Look at you.” His lips are swollen, bitten red. “You’re getting my sheets dirty.”

You try to squirm away from his hold but his grip on your thighs is firm, keeping you pinned where he wants you. An embarrassed whine escapes you, skin heating up under his intense scrutiny, and your core clenches subconsciously.

“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he swallows, eyes darkening with lust. “All for me.”

His long fingers stroke you teasingly, coaxing the longing within you to a firestorm. But the light touches only agitate you further, riling you up until it’s too much.

“C’mon,” you whine, hips canting in a futile attempt at gratification. “Please, come on.”

“What do you want, hm?” 

What you want is to kick the smug look off his face but you know that resorting to violence won’t get you what you desire. Knowing your boyfriend, he would probably use your show of intemperance to tease you even further. Fucker, you pout in annoyance.

The easiest method to obtain what you need is to give in to his whims. As much as it pains you to stroke his already huge ego, you know it’s the only solution. He’s worked you up too much for you to put up much of a fight; you can spot a lost battle when you see one.

“Want you,” you mumble, heat rushing to your cheeks.

“What was that?” he mocks, smirk ever present. “What do you want?”

When you don’t answer right away he growls your name in warning, the gruff noise making you shudder. Your head swims with arousal and you barely have time to think of a coherent answer when he suddenly pinches your clit between his slippery fingers.

“Speak up,” he orders, ignoring the sharp cry that echoes in the room.

Your mind is reeling; it feels like you are stuck in an alternate reality. You’re having a hard time believing your relationship is taking such a sudden turn, but you don’t have much time to think it through before Jungkook delivers a swat on the inside of your thigh to keep you focused. Distantly, you wonder how he was ever able to hold himself back in the past because the man before you looks like he wants to devour you whole.

“Want you,” you repeat, a little louder this time, sweat dampening your neck. “I want your fingers, please, I— I want you to touch me properly.”

Pink colors your cheeks as humiliation courses through you. You don’t like being reduced to an unintelligible mess, especially since it’ll only go to Jungkook’s head. You can already tell your reaction pleases him if the smug curve of his smile is anything to go by. He leans forward to catch your lips with his just as he eases a finger into your warmth. All previous irritation melts away as your mind zeroes in on the licks of pleasure that curl around your spine.

The foreign feeling has you seizing up, insides clamping down on the intruding digit. Jungkook swallows down your moans, lips working feverishly against your own while his finger rubs your slick walls. When you finally start to relax around him, he carefully draws it back out before thrusting again, a loud squelch audible even over the thrumming of your heart and your eager cries.

“Okay, Christ,” he looks down at you with heavy-lidded eyes, finger still slowly working you open. “You’re so small.”

“Let me get the lube, I don’t want to hurt you,” he leans down to brush his lips against yours, softer this time, before pulling away completely. 

You shiver as the cold air kisses your body. It’s not even been a full ten seconds but you already miss the warmth that Jungkook provides. Now that he’s gone, you feel like your nipples are going to fall off from the cold at any given moment.

Jungkook uncaps the lube and spreads a generous amount on his fingers. The sight makes your every nerve seize up with anticipation.

He works in two fingers slowly—so slowly you’re overcome with the urge to kick him again, only because the expectation keeps building in your chest like a mounting wave right before it crashes. You can feel the stretch but his languid strokes do little to bring you pleasure and you huff impatiently.

Jungkook must sense your agitation because he halts his ministrations in warning, “we’re doing this slowly or not at all.” 

The surprising sternness in his tone calms you down at once, and you go limp and pliant under his attentive care. The fire takes awhile to spread from your core to the extremities of your body, but with every methodical prod and brush of his fingers, longing burns in your veins.

“Can you take another one? Want to stretch you out a bit more,” Jungkook pants, fingers still working their way into your heat. You nod, lip caught between your teeth, and he takes his slicked digits out, coating on more lube to ease you through it.

“Fuck, babe.” His voice sounds strained, and you don’t need to open your eyes to see he’s wincing. “Babe, stop clenching.”

“J-Jungkook, I,” you stutter out, moving your head to bury your face in the pillow. You want to be good for him so you feel bad for letting him down, but you refuse to just troop through the pain silently. “Jungkook, please, it hurts.”

Instantly, he stops thrusting his hand, his fingers still buried in your wet heat. Instead of resuming his thrusts, he settles for moving his fingers back and forth inside of you, the pads of his fingers rubbing against your walls. You can still feel the pressure but the pain is now mostly gone. 

Your mind is so focused on the stretch of your walls around him that you hardly notice him scooting forward until his tongue flicks over your dripping wetness. Before you can stop yourself, you clamp down on his three fingers; you can’t help but let out a gasp at how full you feel, eyes blinking back the white spots that fleck your vision.

“You’re so good for me,” he praises between the kisses he leaves on the insides of your thigh. “Such a good girl. Feel so tight and fuuckk—”

The delirious notes make you glance down and your stomach tightens as you take in his mussed up hair, matted with sweat, and the wild look in his eyes; the sight alone has you clenching down on his fingers once more. You feel the mattress move beneath you and from your vantage point, propped up against the pillows, you can see Jungkook grinding his pelvis into the sheets, searching for his own friction. Knowing how much this is affecting him gets your blood boiling, and you let out a pained whimper. 

“Cock—” you gasp, grabbing his hair and forcing his mouth away from your heat. “Want it, please.”

“Can’t say that shit to me, Christ.” He spreads his fingers inside of you and you keen at the sudden stretch. “Can’t even take my fingers, look.”

He repeats the action and you try your best to swallow down your whine but he sees right through you. “You’re not ready for my cock.”

“Please,” you beg, even though logically you know it’s a bad idea. Even now, through the haze of lust, it registers that it isn’t the best suggestion you’ve ever had. But you want to feel him, you want to be closer in any way you can. You can’t explain your irrational need for him, for his dick.

“Okay, I’ll let you have it,” he relents after a moment of hesitation. “Open your legs for me.”

You’re too far gone to care about propriety and you widen your legs easily, greedily drinking in his expression of raw hunger that darkens his face. Grappling around the bed blindly, he finds the discarded bottle of lube and squeezes an abnormal amount onto his shaft, hand quickly working to spread it out over his impressive size.

Panic grips you then, and you’re suddenly reminded as to why sex with Jungkook isn’t something that should be happening after you had struggled to take in his fingers. You’re about to open your mouth to warn him you’ve changed your mind, when he slides his hardened member between your legs. You wince, expecting pain to pierce through your core but none comes. Instead of sheathing himself inside you, he’s rubbing himself against you in a slow, controlled rhythm. 

Jungkook rocks forward, letting his throbbing length slide through your slick lips, the lube making the glide all the easier. He maneuvers your legs so that they’re now squeezing his dick, giving you both more friction. 

“Nghh, fuck,” he grunts over you, watching your heat hug him snugly. He glances back up at you to gauge your reaction, fingers digging into the sensitive skin on your thighs when he takes note of your fucked out state.

“Shit— why is this still on?” You look down at your bra in confusion, but before you can move to take it off, Jungkook pulls the cups down, leaving the material bunched awkwardly below your breasts. He doesn’t move to take it off further, hands already occupied with squeezing the soft flesh.

He gives an experimental hard thrust, memorizing the way your breasts bounce with the movement. The drag of his length hits your clit, eliciting an unrestrained cry. You’re way too fucked out to care about anything but appeasing the ache between your legs; your hands scramble for purchase on his broad shoulders, fingernails leaving pink lines that will stay marked on his skin for days.

“You’re doing so good,” he pants, muscles straining with effort, hips grinding into yours to give you more gratification. 

You’ve been so pent up in only takes one well placed swivel of his hip for your breath to catch in your throat, head tipping back to bare the column of your neck. Your orgasm explodes—every nerve is electrified as if your body was a live wire. You’re left bereft of speech, hips rutting up against his on their own accord, mouth open in a silent scream. 

Jungkook coaxes you through it with words of encouragement and soft rolls of his hips, hands caressing your arms with much more tenderness than you would have expected. It takes a moment for the roaring in your ears to quiet down, but once you manage to even out your breathing, you smile up at Jungkook, thoroughly sated. 

You go to wrap your hand around his length, intent on making him feel good too, but he grasps your wrist, effectively halting your movements, “it’s fine.” He shakes your hand off with an easy smile. “I’m good.”

“I’m not going to break your dick off, y’know.” You pout, “I know I’m clumsy and I break things easily but I’m not that incompetent.”

Jungkook’s chest rumbles with laughter and you bite your lip, trying to hold back your own amusement, before he pushes you down on the bed and scrambles to his knees. His figure looms over you while his hand pumps his shaft in furious strokes, eager to reach his end. The mere sight of him losing his composure sends warm tingles down your spine that come to pool in your lower stomach. He groans out your name like he’s being physically pulled apart by the seams, body cloaked in sweat, and you mouth goes dry with renewed desire.

Finally, it irrupts—white coating your body like snow. The warm liquid paints the apex of your thighs, spurting over your stomach in thick ropes, hitting the underside of your breast and spilling onto the sheets. There’s so much of it your hand comes up in defense, fingers now thoroughly coated in his seed. 

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause. No one makes a move to go clean up.

“When was the last time you jerked off?” you ask conversationally, globs of cum trickling down your side and onto the bed spread. It feels… You squirm a little. It feels weird but surprisingly the sensation is not as unpleasant as you imagined it would be. “Is it always like this?”

He shrugs, shoulders hunching into a predatory stance. His eyes are glassy, chest flushed with exertion, and you expect him to collapse by your side, worn out from the strenuous activity. Instead, he crouches closer to observe his work with poorly concealed fascination. He drags his index finger through fields of white, uncovering a sliver of skin. 

Swallowing thickly, he goes to finger you again, rubbing his seed against your walls. He repeats this process several times, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, attention focused entirely on his task. 

“I’m not saying no, but,” you interrupt, brow arching. “What are you doing?”

“I’m not sure either, “ he blinks up at you, equally puzzled. “Just had this sudden urge to make sure my cum was in you.”

“Is that a dragon thing or a Jungkook thing?”

“Both? Possibly?” He looks unsure, fingers still lodged in your heat. 

He looks back up at you, suddenly looking much too smug for your liking. “So, how was it? Sex with a dragon live up to your expectations?”

“It was fine,” you shrug, biting the inside of your cheek to keep a straight face. “You were okay, but…”

“But?” Jungkook raises an inquisitive eyebrow, looking offended.

“I think we should do it again, just to make sure.”

“Can’t get enough of the dragon dick,” he hums, satisfaction settling onto his features.

He dodges the pillow you throw at him, cackling. 

.

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a/n: okay fun fact time,, apparently “the female lays eggs and male fertilizes them” so. yeah. idk how accurate this is, bc… you know… dragons

i was going through writer’s block and this got me back into writing lmao so ty for reading this mess, hopefully i will be writing normal things again :’’)