#but how the fuck am I supposed to weave through life normally when aware of the fact that living in this country is precarious for many -

[hotsugarbyglassanimals]

Can’t say I’m a big fan of flip flopping between catastrophization and optimism based on whether or not something Bad has happened to me but….. mm

[struggling-to-find-home]

Despite my wishes, in the chessboard that is my toxic family I am still, unfortunately, a player. A neutral one, but a player nonetheless, weaving in between family dynamics as a true scapegoat-turned-manipulator would.

It's like politics - there is always competion for power and resources. Not the normal ones, no, but things like affection, love, favour. (Yes, they are different things. Favour dictates a quota of fuck ups you have before they go apeshit, showing affection impacts how you are seen in the eyes of other people, and love is a recourse that everybody loooooves to hold hostage.)

Obedience.

It's not obvious, this fight, not to outsiders, even to those in the middle of it, some being completely unaware of it despite being avid players. Unlike the rest of them - cholerics, blowing up at the slightest inconvenience, it's hard to affect me in a major way - I usually manage to keep a cool head through most confrontations, and, unlike the rest of them, I am aware of the game that is being played as I play it.

It plagues my thoughts during interactions, how and when I am affecting the scales by my actions. Off-handedly joking that my mother will never be satisfied by any decision I take that to my grandparents means they will be more likely to stand with me when the time comes to leave. Not voicing my political opinions during a fight at the dinner table with make my mother assume I am siding with her, which will allow her to forget the latest thing she is angry at, which means I am once again on safe ground. Expressing interest in my aunt's life will lead to her ignoring my mother when she claims that I am a selfish bitch who ignores the interests of all of them and will leave them behind. Not that it isn't true, but oh well, what good politician reveals their motivation?

I had just assumed that this is how most people treat competitive environments - that everyone is always aware of what messages they are sending out, what that slight change of expression implies, what triple meaning the words they choose convey. That every interaction you have, every thing about you aids in a long game. That's what makes healthy interpersonal relationships so special in my mind - they are a place for directness and honesty. But, apparently, most people don't treat it that way.

Apparently, what I do works, but most people aren't aware of the subtext and don't wesponise it. Which, what the fuck. How am I supposed to just ignore the 1948101845 little things I take notice of when I make decisions????

[burnedbyshoto]

i’d like to preface this with this is my opinion and only my opinion. you are free to agree and disagree with what I say and point out my idiot takes too. I also do very much love uraraka though, she’s a cutie.

uraraka ochako is an interesting character. she’s definitely not one of a kind, never seen or done before, but if hori is taking her character in the direction where im assuming it’s going, I think it’ll be fucking sick as hell. after all, I don’t want female characters who are physically strong — that’s easy to write and easier to write off — I want emotionally and internally complex female characters and this added element is definitely a way to get her there.

her biggest character complexes are revealed and can stem off of a single relationship of hers. that with himiko toga.

there are a lot of parallels between uraraka and toga. from the get go, the most obvious one being their feelings towards izuku. their crush, their obsession with him. 

I do apologize now about the frantic scatteredness of this because I am no meta writer, but im trying to piece this together in a logical way.

himiko toga’s background was revealed to us in the war between the LOV and the MLA. she was someone who, most likely due to the influence of her quirk, lusted over the blood of people she liked. now, through the horrors and need to be normal, togas family forced her to be “normal,” to hide her true self and feelings from the rest of the world because it wasn’t accepted. she does not hesitate to speak about how she hated having to keep her true feelings in, how she was deceived by the world into being someone she’s not. so now, she gives into her crushes, her obsessions, her wants, and her needs. himiko toga’s most memorable traits is her admittance to wanting to become the person she loves the most.

how does this parallel to uraraka???

easy.

who does uraraka want to become :)

upon uraraka’s initial introduction she was brought as a character who held nothing back, someone who was to become a hero because of the paycheck, not because she wanted to save people. she didn’t care so much as other people, she cared more about her family. 

now, there’s nothing wrong with this of course! shes 16 -- 15 then -- years old, and possesses the ability to do as she pleases. no one in bnha is quite as ambitious and self-sacrificing and heroic as izuku is (which is a whole other problem but thats for another time), and that’s okay. you’re not supposed to have the integrity to throw your life away for strangers at 15, it’s okay to be selfish.

however, where things start taking the twist with uraraka is the simple question brought forward by aoyama. a simple question if she likes him.

its interesting already that he asks her this, especially given what uraraka is thinking when asked. at this moment, she’s trapped and is thinking of what izuku would do in this situation. this occurs right after the sports festival arc where uraraka denied izuku’s help in facing off bakugou, where she watched izuku break his entire body to save shouto, and where she began to develop some sort of feelings and emotions for izuku during the calvary battle.

now, why does this matter? well, the turn down of izuku’s help and her ability to perform soundly against bakugou tells me that she probably didn’t ever need to wonder just what izuku would do against her battle with thirteen. the beginning of her feelings (whether they are true feelings or just straight up obsession) towards izuku gives her that tie with toga, and just for lols, toga enjoys seeing a beat up, busted izuku and well, uraraka got to see him busted up post shouto fight.

so when aoyama asks his simple question, suddenly uraraka is vividly aware of her feelings towards izuku and loses her concentration and flies straight towards thirteen and etc. while I don’t mean to be like,,,, there’s only one way to do things, but I find it hard to believe a 15/16 yo girl couldn’t tell that her feelings for izuku were romantic at that point... so yeah lol.

I did say true feelings or obsession in a previous paragraph, and I will now dive into them.

as uraraka continues to progress as a character she also changes the reason why she’s a hero. it becomes identical to that of izuku who becomes a hero to save everyone, and similarly, uraraka says the same. but, in order to do so, she must suppress her emotions/feelings/obsession for izuku in the time being because shes not an idiot and knows she doesn’t have time for that relationship and midoriya ‘I-have-a-death-wish’ izuku doesn’t either.

we see from togas experience that suppressing and hiding your true self/form only does you wrong in the end too.

interestingly, uraraka also changes a bit of her hero costume to imitate that of izuku. again, there’s nothing wrong with imitation because izuku’s entire career is based on imitation and making others original moves his own, but uraraka’s is always focal to that of izuku. 

izuku this. izuku that. what about izuku.

he’s a common name to her thoughts, which can be normal to that of a highschool girl with a crush, her suppression of her feelings and desire and clouded judgment for izuku is her undoing, and her crazy parallel to toga.

toga used to suppress her blood lust for the sake of appearing and being normal.

uraraka suppresses her crush on izuku for the sake of appearing and being normal.

toga loves to imitate, replicate, and become her crush.

uraraka imitates, replicates, and wants to be like her crush.

togas use of imitation is seen as a bad thing.

urarakas use of imitation is seen as a good thing.

toga is no longer trying to be someone she’s not (minus her use of her quirk).

uraraka is trying to be someone she’s not (her want to be like izuku).

in chapter 289 we see their interactions, how toga dances and weaves around uraraka as we try to get an answer about why uraraka believes in the things that she does, and while she’s honestly not wrong in her explanations (again she’s 16 and by no means should be perfect. toga’s overall convoluted approach on her entire question wouldve confused me too) she’s emulating and mimicking midoriya izuku. 

urakaka has grown complacent, she has become someone she isn’t and in her daze to be something she’s not, she’s suppressed and frantic. she’s become a character that people are questioning because where on earth did the girl we once knew go?

I can’t say much about her true feelings and whether or not how she feels for izuku are real, but I firmly believe that if hori is doing what im thinking, there’s going to be a lot of self-reflection and possible realizations that uraraka might not truly have a one-sided crush on izuku and for the meantime become someone she wants to be, much like toga is finally someone she wants to be too.

but thats just me lol.

~

twitter thread I read. I don’t agree with all of it, but most of it!!!!

i do apologize if none of this made sense, i’m not quite good at explaining my rationale ;-;

[thiswasinevitableid]

for monster march, ghost + indruck + nsfw?

Here you go! I borrowed some ideas we’ve tossed around on the Discord

A sketchbook, new pens, a Hershey bar, and a bag of jumbo marshmallows. A small but lively fire. And a new, huge, fuzzy sleeping bag waiting for him in the tent. 

Not a bad camping set up for a city-boy art goth (as Barclay likes to call him).

Indrid sticks another marshmallow on the fork, roasting it until it’s deep brown, the smell of burning sugar curling through the air and settling in his hair. He’s never liked Graham Crackers, so he jams a square of chocolate into the molten center of the marshmallow and shoves the entire thing into his mouth. 

Kepler is small. Barclay hadn’t been kidding about that. He’d also been right that one of the two tattoo shops in town was willing to hire Indrid after looking through photos of his work and confirming he completed his apprenticeship. 

He’s been living in the Eastwoods campground in the Monongahela National Forest while he apartment hunts, and the tattoos he’s done so far netted him enough cash to buy his luxurious new sleeping bag. He might be waiting on a place for some time, so he may as well camp in style. 

Three “s’mores” later, the moon is up and the night is chilly enough that he wants his sweatshirt. Ducking into the tent, he can’t find it on his pillow, where he swears he left it this morning. Maybe he accidentally buried it getting dressed.

A splashhiss interrupts his rummaging. Scrambling from the tent, he discovers his fire is now a pile of soaked ashes and logs being angrily stirred by a thick piece of kindling. 

“Excuse me, but what the fuck?”

A man in a ranger uniform appears, the stick falling through his hand as he gives Indrid a disapproving stare. 

“Look here, I know you’re new here, maybe to campin entirely. But you can’t just leave a fire burnin when you go to bed.” He doesn’t sound mad, more like he’s a disappointed big brother scolding his sibling. 

“I wasn’t-”

“And all this” he gestures to the food on the table, “has gotta go in the bear box. Black bears are real good foragers and we don’t want ‘em comin’ into camp and gettin to comfy around humans.”

“Of course, but-”

“You didn’t take any food into the tent, right? Wouldn’t want somethin to decide to join you ‘cause it smelled a snack.”

Indrid pinches the bridge of his nose, “I am aware of all of these rules, and plan to follow them. Once I actually go to bed instead of ducking into the tent for my sweater. But since my evening appears to be over…” he grabs the marshmallows, roasting fork, and chocolate, carries them to the bear box, and slams it closed. 

When he whirls back around, the ghost is still there, chagrined. 

“Uh, sorry. I kinda jumpy about people leavin fires alone.” In the lantern light, his smile is as charming as his drawl. His stocky, bearish shape and unassumingly handsome face command Indrid’s focus, which is why his revelation comes so quickly. 

“You...there’s a statue of you at the visitor center. Which makes you, ah, damn it what was the name-”

“Duck. Duck Newton. They put my legal name on there, even though Juno tried to stop ‘em. But my name’s Duck.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Duck. I’m Indrid.”

“Nice to meet you too. Uh, sorry for ruinin your campfire, looks like you were havin a nice time.”

“It’s alright. I suppose I’m grateful there’s someone haunting the campsites to keep them in order.”

“You’re takin me bein’ a ghost surprisingly well.”

“I’ve always been interested in strange things, to the point that I earned the nickname ‘mothman’ in high school.”

“Huh” Duck watches him a moment, then shrugs, “well, guess I better be goin’. Have a nice night, mothman.”

With that, he’s gone.

------------------------------------------------------

“Hello again.” Indrid says as the campfire smoke curls around a human form, “Doing your rounds?”

“More or less. I like my job, and ain’t about to give it up just because I beefed it and turned into a ghost.” A creak as Duck joins him on the picnic bench. When he materializes, he floats slightly above the worn wood, watching Indrid draw. 

“That’s incredible, it’s so realistic it’s like you pressed the leaves into the pages instead of colored them.”

“Thank you.” adds depth to the leaf, “you know, I looked at the statue again today. It hardly does you justice.”

From this close, he can see a blush spread up semi-opaque cheeks. Then he starts fading.

“Oh, ah, I’m sorry. I was aiming for a benign compliment, not to make you uncomfortable.”

“S’alright, just surprised me. Not many folks wanna flirt with a dead guy.”

“I’m more interested in what the ‘dead guy’ wants.” Indrid smiles, hoping to convey he would submit to spectral touches as readily as he’d keep talking. 

Duck floats closer, “Kinda curious about your other drawin’s.”

Indrid turns the sketchbook back to the beginning, “they’re half portfolio and half travelogue. Here” he holds up a fade, detached piece of paper,  covered by an Morpho Butterfly that looks ready to fly away, “this is the first tattoo I ever designed.”

“Damn. Guessin’ that means you did this one” he touches the Rosy Maple Moth on Indrid’s forearm (or tries to). It’s chilly, but not in the way Indrid feared. More like taking a cool shower on a sweltering day.

“I did. Here, it gave me an idea for my first series of flash tattoos…”

They go over the illustrations page by page. Slowly, Indrid weaves in questions to Duck who, instead of recoiling from discussion of his mortal life, tells him rambling stories about the woods and which places serve the best food in town. 

The conversation doesn’t end until the fire goes out on it’s own, Duck standing automatically, grabbing a water bottle, swearing, and then disappearing so he can pick the bottle up. 

“Do you think that’s part of why you’re still here? Some unfinished business having to do with the woods?”

“Nah.” The water bottle thunks back on the table as Duck reappears, “I tried to live a normal life, improve the world the way I knew how, make some kind of difference to this town. Then I had to go play the goddamn hero.”

“I would say saving two dozen people from a forest fire makes a considerable difference in the world.”

A sad huff of a laugh, “Yeah, guess you’re right. Just...I meant to do somethin’ with my life, not my death, even if it was a small somethin’, and the closest thing I got to unfinished business is a model ship.”

“I...what?”

“It was four-masted and everything! I had Leo order it in special and everything and then I never, I never got to-”  He tilts his head up, sniffs once, “never mind. I better let you get to sleep.”

By the time Indrid calls “goodnight,” the ghost is gone. 

------------------------------------------

“Please tell me you’re gettin a place soon so you stop eatin everythin outta a can?” Leo bags the last of groceries.

“No such luck. Ah well, there are worse things than canned soup and Pop-Tarts.”

“At least let Barclay feed you, half the point of havin a friend who can cook is to let ‘em do it for you. You need stamps or anything?”

“N-” A box behind the counter catches his eye. It’s at an odd angle, as if whoever put it there is hoping no one will see it. Indrid can just make out an illustration of a four-masted ship.

“Is that for sale?”

Leo looks where he’s pointing, and for a moment something in his gruff affability wavers. Then he nods, “Yeah, suppose it is.”

“Can you ring it up for me?” Indrid nearly bounces on his toes when Leo sets the box on the counter and confirms his hunch. 

The older man sets a gentle hand on the cardboard, sliding it across to Indrid, “Don’t worry about that, kid. It’s yours.”

----------------------------------------------

“Duck?” Indrid turns in a circle by the picnic table, “Duck, I have something for you!”

He saw the ranger briefly last night, but he didn’t hang around. Gingerly, he sets the box on the table, tearing off a piece of sketch paper to write a note in case the ghost stops by while he’s asleep. 

“Holy fuck.” Duck floats across the table from him, “‘Drid, where did, how did--why?”

“Leo still had it. As for why I, ah, it seemed like you still wanted it. If you can douse a fire and over my camp stove, I figure you can build a model ship.”

Duck disappears and Indrid’s heart sinks; that must have been too much. Then he’s squished in an invisible, wonderful bear hug.

“Thanks, ‘Drid.”

From then on, Duck spends every night at his campsite, building the ship while Indrid draws, reads, or talks with him. The model lives in the safest corner of the tent during the day.

“I mean, I’m up durin the day too, but I scared a few folks on accident and I don’t want people avoid the forest because of me.”

Indrid also learns that Duck is stuck within a certain radius of where he died, and that his attempts to talk with Juno when she was in his part of the woods only lead to his friend thinking she was hallucinating and Duck feeling miserable for three solid days. Indrid offers to act as messenger and invite Duck’s friends (many of whom have, by chance and by proximity to Barclay, become his friends) to the campsite to see him. The ranger is quiet for some time after that offer.

“Not yet. Maybe someday, but not yet. I, it ain’t even been a year, ‘Drid. I think a lot of ‘em are still hurtin. And, and maybe this is selfish but...I ain’t ready to deal with them findin’ out I aint fully gone. It’d be so much all at once.”

Indrid doesn’t bring it up again. More than once, when Aubrey tells a story about Duck only for her eyes to sadden halfway through, or when he sees Juno looking at Duck’s statue a little too long, he struggles to keep his promise. 

A cold front blows into town and, since he’s still in the tent, he pops into Kepler Thrift N Find in search of an extra sweatshirt. Tucked in between one reading “Ranchos” and one with a picture of Garfield is a soft, well-loved hoodie with “Monongahela National Forest” on the front. He buys it and wears it home, the fact it’s loose in the arms making it even easier to tuck in his hands when he gets cold. 

He stops by the visitor center out of habit, checking out the new plush wild animals. There are also hints of Duck here and there; his name on displays, his face in group photos. As he contemplates a small, squishy black bear, he notices Juno looking at him more than usual.

“Hello again” he sets the bear on the counter.

“Howdy. This all?

“Yes, please. Are you alright? You look, ah, tired.”

“Yep. Or, uh, just noticed that sweatshirt. It was one that got made special for staff a few years ago.”

Indrid fidgets with the cat-bitten drawstring, “It was Duck’s, wasn’t it?”

“Uh huh. He put that patch on the sleeve. Guess it startled me to see it on someone else.”

“I understand.” 

“Knew him since we were kids. Hell, he’s my daughter’s godfather. Still don’t feel right, bein’ here without him.”

Indrid pushes the bear towards her and she pets it.

“What was he like?”

In the empty visitor center, Juno tells him. In her stories are echos of every conversation he’s ever had with anyone who knew Duck. When it’s time to close up, she asks if she can hug him, and thanks him for listening to her. 

“Guess you weren’t kiddin about wanting to sleep with a bear” Duck teases as Indrid sets his new purchase inside the tent. Indrid whaps at him, arm going through his torso. The ranger floats nearby as Indrid heats up ravioli and opens a can of Mountain Dew. Indrid tells him about the conversation with Juno. 

“Huh, guess that is my old one. Glad someone is gettin some use outta it. And it looks good on you.”

Indrid sets down his bowl, “We talked a lot, Duck. And it made me think about what you said to me one of the night after we met. You said you wanted a chance to make the world, the town, a little better. Everyone I’ve talked to, and I mean every one, has a story about you. How you helped them, how Kepler is worse off with you gone. You did so much, even with your time cut short. I, I wanted you to know that.”

The ghost looks away, “I wasn’t done tryin to help.”

“You still aren’t. You do what you can to keep the forest and the visitors safe. And you, you’ve made my life immeasurably better Duck. Seeing you is the best part of my day and I think I’m falling--ah, that is, you’re not done making a difference.”

Duck hasn’t moved since Indrid started talking about his feelings. When Indrid tries to meet his eyes, he disappears. Hurried, he reaches out to offer a reassuring touch and gets only air. 

“Duck?”

Nothing, even after he calls his name three more times.

He slumps onto the bench, “well, fuck me I guess.”

---------------------------------------------------

This is a terrible idea. But it’s his last, and therefore his best. 

Indrid even asked Barclay’s boyfriend, Joseph, if anything in his impressive library of the paranormal advised the reader on dealing with upset ghosts. A few did, always from the perspective of trying to get the specter to go away. They said nothing about what to do if your upset ghost was missing, leaving an ache in your heart you didn’t know you were capable of feeling. 

Instead, after a week of silence, Indrid changes tactics: if he can’t coax Duck back, maybe he can annoy him into appearing. 

Tonight, he finishes dinner and cleans his dishes, puts the bulk of the food in the bear box, and then tears open a bag of chips, scattering them across the table. He eats one, then leaves the open bag laying amongst the potato shards. 

Next, he dumps his remaining water on the fire, which takes it down to embers but does not extinguish it. When none of that gets a reaction, he decides to narrate.

“Hmm, that should be fine, it’s not that dry and I don’t think sparks can go over the edge.”

“Should I leave these juice pouches out? Yes, I think I should, in case I get thirsty at night. Maybe I’ll take one into the tent, just to be safe.”

He already feels silly and like no one is listening, and so he escalates. 

“I know I shouldn’t leave food out for the wildlife, but since there’s no handsome, ghostly ranger here to punish me for my transgressions, I am just going to leave some nuts out for the raccoons. I like raccoons. They deserve nice things. Hell, how about I just leave them a whole buffet since no one is stopping me!”

All he gets in reply are the few bugs awake this early in the spring and the crack of brush as a small mammal runs away from the weird bipedal thing yelling at his camp fire. He doesn’t leave out food for the raccoons; he climbs into his tent in a huff. What a bad idea, to think this of all things would bring Duck back to him. He’s being childish and bratty and selfish; Duck doesn’t deserve that, no more than he owes Indrid his company. 

He changes into his pajamas pants and sleep shirt, intending to go back out to make the site safe and tidy. Except.

Except something just opened the bear box. The chip bag crinkles and the fire hisses out a minute later. He should be running outside to apologize, but his mind has simultaneously  registered the full darkness of the night , the possibility that Duck is not the only paranormal thing in these woods, and the fact the nearest other campers are on the other side of the campground, meaning he is very, very alone.

The zipper on the tent moves, the flap falling open so his lantern shines on nothing but April air.

“Duck? Please say that’s you.”

A low chuckle, “It’s me, ‘Drid.” The fly zips shut, “mighty peeved about that trick you pulled.”

“I’m, I’m sorry. I missed you, but that was a bad way to communicate that.” He can’t see him, and the lantern only picks up the odd shift of sleeping bag or tent floor, so Indrid’s eyes’ dart about trying to pinpoint him.

“Oh, you communicated plenty, sugar. Like what you want a certain, uh, ghostly ranger to do to you.”

“Oh god” he winces, “please, forget I said that, it’s humiliating.”

“Not all that surprisin, truth be told. I mean, you and I flirted now and then. And you told me enough about yourself for me to suspect that you’re a kinky little weirdo who’s dyin to get fucked by a ghost.” 

“I, I feel I should point out that I only want to fuck one ghost. You. I want to fuck you and that means fucking a ghoOOOst.” He gasps as cold lips press into his neck.

“I can make that happen, darlin, all you gotta do is say it. You were a pain in the neck earlier, so now I expect you to be real polite and use your words.” Duck’s voice has never been like this before, rough and possessive yet still, under all of it, the same warmth draws Indrid in like a flame. 

“I want you, Duck.”

A bite to his ear, strong arms wrapping around his waist from behind him, “Want me to do what?”

“Fuck me” this is like every wet dream he had as a teenager, the supernatural being coming for a fellow outsider. 

That gets him a tender kiss on the cheek, “That’s better. Though, if I’m rememberin correctly, word you used was punish.”

Indrid yelps as Duck turns and shoves him to lay across his lap, kicks his legs out in surprise when his waistband slides down to his upper thighs. 

“Yesss” he wiggles his ass as Duck palms it, “yes, Duck, pleaseAHgod” the first strike stings, and Duck doesn’t let him recover before delivering five more, three to each side. His cock perks up at the pain. Stranger still, because Duck is invisible, all Indrid has to do is tilt his head to watch it harden and twitch with each slap.

Twenty strikes later Duck pauses, hand rubbing soothing, cool circles on the burning skin, “Learned your lesson?”

“Mmhmm.” Indrid presses an awkward kiss to Duck’s knee. 

“Glad to hear it.” Duck hauls him up onto his knees, slides a hand under his shirt and up his chest, “I’m rarin’ to feel more of you--holy fuck” 

“AH!” Indrid arches as Duck toys with his left nipple piercing, his other hand quickly finding the right. 

“God, fuck, you’re fuckin hot, if I were alive I woulda taken you home first time I saw you.” Messy kisses cover his neck as Duck tugs the piercings.

“Gaahnnyes, that’s, that’s very flattering.”

“Ain’t flattery, sugar, it’s the truth. Never could turn down some skinny punk with piercin’s and messy hair, not when I was a teen burnout hidin in the woods and sure as hell not now.” He moves Indrid onto his back, rucking up his shirt as his legs twist in his half-down pants. The ranger cups his face, and Indrid is positive he’s meeting his eyes, “tell me what you want sugar, tell me so I can treat you right.”

“Marks, I want marks anywhere you’ll give them.”

A growl from above him, then lips smashing into his, drinking him in before continuing down his throat, biting and sucking hard enough that he cries out every time. Duck pauses, teasing his nipples with his tongue as he rakes his nails up his sides. He sits up and for a horrible moment Indrid loses him. Then with glee he watches five red marks drag down his chest. He moans, rolling his hips and discovering just how closer Duck’s clothed cock is to his own. The contact only feeds the rangers eagerness, and Indrid is tosses and turns as he sucks, bites, and scratches, laying claim to the illustrated expanse of his body. 

“More, please, god that all feels so good.” 

“Don’t worry darlin, still got plenty of you to mark up, but we’re gonna do somethin else while I do.” He eases Indrid onto his stomach, slaps his ass fondly, “don’t go nowhere.”

Indrid’s duffel bag unzips, clothes and pens moved aside until a bottle of lube hovers in the air. The tube compresses and drips coat the rough outline of fingers. When the two digits press into him he sighs, eyes closing as he melts under Ducks watchful eyes. 

“That’s it ‘Drid, relax for me. Got well over a year of horny to work out, so this cute ass needs to be ready to take it.”

Indrid pushes his hips back in reply, taking as far as the fingers will go and whimpering excitedly when he presses in the tip of the third. Duck works that one more carefully, kissing Indrid’s face and shoulders as he whispers about how good he is, how much he’s wanted this.

“I want it too so for, for goodness sake please fuck me soon or I’ll leave my entire cooler out for the bears.”

“Only one bear in this campsite tonight darlin.” Duck laves his tongue down the base of his spine, bites down hard on his ass. Indrid’s still moaning from the pain when his cock pushes in.

“Fuuuckme that’s good. Shoulda snuck into your tent sooner, sugar, made you a fuckin cocksleeve you feel so fuckin good.”

“Ohgod” is all Indrid, voice muffled by the sleeping bag he’s biting, manages before Duck adjusts them so Indrid is on his knees. The ranger isn’t gentle, pounds into him like he’s nothing but a warm hole and chuckles whenever Indrid moans. 

“H-handprints, Duck, want hand prints GAHyesyesyes” he struggles to move in time with the ghost as the air fills with ear-splitting slaps. He’s so close, the pain and the sensation of phantom fingers claiming his body making his body beg for release. When he slides a hand down to jerk himself off, the arm twists up and stays trapped against his back. 

“You wanna cum, you know what to do.”

He blinks away the ecstatic tears, words raw in his throat, “Please let me cum, Duck. I want to, need to cum while you fuck me pleaseplease-” he cuts off into whine as the ghost works his cock hard, all the while jamming into him hard enough that the smooth fabric of the sleeping bag burns his knees. When he cums it’s with a weak cry of Duck’s name, which is swallowed up by hungry lips as Duck kisses him over and over, repeating Indrid’s name like an incantation as he pumps his hips and cums, pulling out as he does so it splatters on the reddened patches of his ass. 

A final kiss to the top of his head, and then there’s no contact between them and the zipper is moving.

“Oh no you don’t” Indrid scrambles, sweaty and exhausted, between the tent fly and the invisible man somewhere in front of him, “for goodness sake, Duck, I thought you liked me enough to at least let me fall asleep before you ran.”

The ranger finally appears, hair a mess and cheeks noticeably pink, “‘Drid, all that was amazing, but it’s all I can give you. I, I can’t...you said you were fallin for me and I can’t give you that.”

Indrid cocks his head, “Why not?”

“Because I’m a fuckin ghost, ‘Drid! You deserve to be with a livin’ fella, you deserve someone who can be a real part of your life.”

He crosses his arms, “Duck, you are a real part of my life. Honestly, what part of all the nights we spent together, all the ways we take care of each other, all of this” he points at the rumpled sleeping bag, “suggests otherwise?”

The ghost doesn’t speak, simply hugs himself (or tries to).

“If this is too much, if I’m offering something you do not want, then please tell me. But if this is you thinking that some paranormal quirks keep you from being a worthy partner for me, kindly think again.”

Duck disappears and Indrid is gearing up to try and tackle a supernatural entity when a familiar face buries itself in the crook of his neck. The ghost clings to him, and Indrid clings right back. 

“You really wanna give it a go?”

“More than anything.”

Duck lifts his head so their cheeks rest together, “Then fuck it. Let’s see what happens.”

----------------------------------------

Indrid finishes hooking up his lightly used Winnebago, AKA his solution to the lack of available apartments. He’s in a different section of Eastwoods, but he’s happy with his new spot. He opens one of his few boxes, gently lifts the completed model ship into a place of honor, and waits, humming happily, for an unseen hand to knock on his door. 

[behappyitsemmalie]

Sweet Child of Mine - John B x Reader

Requested: YES! ‘Would you mind writing a pregnancy scare with John B?’

@massholeabroad - this is for you boo! Hope I did your prompt justice! Sorry this took 700 years to write lol

I am nothing if not a slut for pregnancy fics😏 This is also my first John B fic so yay! And we all know John B would be the sweetest little bean during a pregnancy scare. 

A/N: This takes place in a universe where Big John still went missing but the gold hunt never happened and DCS didn't know John B was living alone! 

You were nervous. Your leg was bouncing uncontrollably as you sat in the front seat of your car, hands anxiously clutching the steering wheel. The car was parked in front of the Chateau, early morning sun beaming in through the trees. You weren't exactly sure how long you had been sitting outside at this point, instead of going inside the house and talking to your boyfriend like you came here to do. There wasn't much time. The rest of the Pogues were supposed to come over to take the boat out later and you knew it wouldn't be unlike them to show up early, particularly JJ. So finally, with one last deep breath, you got out of the car and made your way across the yard and up the front porch steps. 

As soon as you stepped into the house, you saw him. John B, your boyfriend of over a year and friend of nearly 10 years, standing there in the living room. There was a beer in his hand, despite it being only 11AM, and he was shirtless as he liked to be. He looked up as he heard the rickety front door open and shut and grinned at you, not yet noticing the nervous smile you wore on your face. 

“Hey babe, what are you doing here? I thought you were coming later with everyone else?” he asked, coming over to you and pressing a kiss to your lips. He was a good boyfriend, the best actually. And due to being friends for the majority of your lives, he knew you inside and out. So it didn't take him more than a few seconds to realize you weren't your normal, cheerful self. You were tangling your fingers around each other aimlessly, a nervous tick of yours. And your smile had all but disappeared entirely, now replaced with nervous furrowed brows and pursed lips. “What’s wrong?” he asked, placing his beer down on the tiny end table next to the couch and letting his hands grasp lightly at your shoulders. 

“I just- um, I have to talk to you about something. Something that’s- its, um- important,” you stuttered. 

John B was a bit taken back at how nervous you seemed. The two of you had been dating too long, friends too long to be nervous around each other. It wasn't like you to be nervous at all, especially with John B. 

“Is it serious?” he asked. 

Your mind was racing. 

‘If you count the fact that there may be a tiny human growing inside of me right now as serious, then yeah it’s very serious.’ 

“Whatever it is, you know you can tell me,” he continued. 

‘I may be fucking pregnant with your kid.’ 

“You just have to tell me what it is.” 

You studied John B’s caring face, seeing nothing but the genuine kindness that always seemed to live in his eyes. He was gentle and attentive and loving. You didn't think it was going to be this hard to tell him that you were late on your period and you weren't sure what that meant. You had thought about just taking a test by yourself and only telling him if the test was positive. No need to worry him over nothing right? But you felt sick to your stomach thinking about taking the test by yourself. You needed John B. 

But you truly didn't think it would be this hard to just tell him. 

You broke out of his gentle hands holding onto your shoulders and slumped down on the couch. He followed you, taking a careful seat next to you. He started talking, rambling like he does when he’s anxious. You tuned him out, closing your eyes and gathering up every inch of strength you had inside of you to just say the damn words. Once the words came out, this whole thing could just move faster. 

You knew John B was in the middle of saying something, but you didn't care. “I’m pregnant,” you blurted out without thinking. The words came out like vomit, no prior planning seemed to be put into them at all. You looked up at your boyfriend who looked like he could fall out of his seat any second. 

“What?” 

“I’m sorry I don't know why I said that,” you sighed, burying you face in your hands. “I might be pregnant. Might! I just- I've been sick lately and I was supposed to start my period last week and I haven't yet. And you know we’re not always the best with condoms!” 

John B knew he didn't have any space to argue on that last point. You guys weren't the best at it. Especially after a boneyard party when you two were drunk and horny and were so painfully aware of how in love you two were. It wasn't rare for you two to forget (or just ignore) a condom. And he knew you hadn't been feeling great lately, actually seeing you throw up stomach contents a couple days ago. So unfortunately, it did all kind of add up. 

The boy seemed stuck, like someone pressed pause on his life. His eyes were trained on you, probably waiting for you to tell him it was all a joke. But he could tell by your expression that you weren't kidding. 

“Ok. Ok... ok,” he kept repeating. You swore if he said that word one more time, you would hit him. “What do we do?” 

It actually comforted you to see him be as clueless about all of this as you were. It gave you some peace of mind that you weren't just dumb or naive. This was a scary, baffling situation that you weren't really supposed to know how to navigate at 16 years old. 

“I have to take a test,” you answered. 

“You haven't taken a test yet?” he asked, his tone more hopeful rather than angry. 

“I didn't want to take it alone.” Your voice was lower than you had ever heard it. It sounded too small for someone who might be a mother soon. John B reached his hand up and cupped your cheek, letting his fingers tangle in your hair. You leaned into it, craving that kind warmth more than anything. 

“You’re not taking it alone,” he grinned. 

He got up off the couch, extending his hand out for you to grab it. With no hesitation you grabbed it, weaving your fingers in with his. You made a move towards the front door, eager to get this over with, particularly before your nosy friends came over. John B tugged on your hand, pulling you back in front of him. His face looked so soft, you didn't even know how to interpret it. He pushed a strand of rogue hair behind your ear and smiled. 

“Everything’s going to be ok. You know that right?” he told you. You were almost inclined to believe him. He seemed so damn sure. But you knew he had no way of knowing how everything would turn out. No one did. Not until you found out if you were actually pregnant. 

“Let’s just take the test,” you smiled. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before telling you to grab the van keys from the kitchen while he throws on his shoes and a shirt. 

Part of you wanted to ask if you two could jump on a ferry and head to the mainland to get a test. Outer Banks was small. Most people knew each other. Anyone who knew you and John B could be at the tiny convenience store on the Cut. They could easily see what you were buying and make any number of assumptions, and before you knew it the whole island would know your business. But you knew there was no time to go all the way there and back. 

Because John B is John B and he could easily see how nervous you were as he pulled the van up in of the store, he offered to go in while you wait in the car. With a kiss to your temple, he got out of the van, jogging up to the store and disappearing inside. You sat in the car, the radio playing a soft song you didn't know but liked. You couldn't be a mom. You had no idea how. It’s not like you had a great example. Your mom wasn't much older than you when she got pregnant. She had spent the whole summer with some tourist visiting the island with his family. By the time she found out she was pregnant, he was gone. So it had always just been you and her. She wasn't exactly shy about letting you know that if she never had you, she could've gone to college and gotten out of the Outer Banks and made something of herself. Living your whole life knowing your own mother resented you for something you had zero control over, pretty much just being born, was not the life you wanted for yourself or your child. 

You were the middle of being completely disappointed in yourself for somehow following in your mother’s footsteps when you saw John B exit the store. You had John B, not some idiot touron from the mainland. So maybe you weren't in her exact footsteps. 

Your boyfriend climbed into the van, handing you the bag he was holding. 

“Did you know there are like 10 different brands of pregnancy tests?” he laughed. The laugh was strained, like he didn't really think it was funny but he didn't quite know what emotion to tie to all of this. 

You smiled back at him as he started the car. “Thank you. For going in,” you grinned, reaching over to grab his hand. As he pulled your clasped hands up to his lips to press a kiss to yours, you weren’t really sure how you got so lucky. 

The ride back to the Chateau was just as quiet as the ride to the store was. You leaned your head back against the seat. It was a warm day. You enjoyed the cool breeze that ran threw your hair as it came in through the van’s open windows. John B was still holding onto your hand, his thumb rubbing against the back of your hand to calm you. That always worked before, so why not now? You hadn't even realized you had arrived at the familiar house until you felt John B’s hand leave yours so he could take the car keys out of the ignition. The bag in your lap felt heavy, like it held your future in it. It kind of did in a way. Your entire future from this moment forward was going to be decided by the tiny stick in this bag. 

“You ready?” John B asked. You just nodded, opened the door and stepped out of the van, clutching that stupid brown bag in your hands. 

Once in the house, you threw your backpack onto the couch and discarded your shoes, wanting any excuse to stall. John B grabbed your hand and led you to the bathroom. You took the taunting box out of the bag and set it on the counter. You just stared at it. You were quiet. So was John B. Everything in this moment seemed to stand still. 

“I’m going to wait right outside, ok? Just take it when you’re ready,” John B said, kissing your head and backing out the room. The two of you made eye contact in the mirror as he was closing the door, the grin on his face enough to make you smile back. 

Somehow he was so calm. It was a little unlike him. He could be anxious, get flustered under pressure. You couldn't think of anything that would be more pressure than your girlfriend maybe being pregnant with your kid while you’re both still in high school. It concerned you a bit how level-headed he seemed today. But you wouldn't question it too much. You need this strong reassurance that he was giving you. It was the only thing making it possible for you to break open the test box and spill its contents out onto the bathroom counter. You must have read the instructions over 20 times before sitting on the toilet and actually doing it. 

When you were done, you set the test on the counter and washed your hands. Your reflection in the mirror seemed to tease you, looking nothing like a mom. But then again, how did you even know what a mom looked like? A good mom at least. Kie had a good mom. Pope did too. But you weren't like them. John B would probably be a good dad, you thought to yourself. Suddenly remembering John B was outside waiting for you, you pulled your phone out of your pocket and set the timer to 3 minutes, just like the instructions said to do. You opened the door and saw your boyfriend sitting down leaning against the wall next to the bathroom, running a hand through his floppy hair. 

He looked up at you, eyes wide and curious. “So? What happened?” he asked.

“We have to wait 3 minutes,” you answered simply, showing him your phone as the timer ticked down. You sunk down to the floor to sit next to John B and quickly felt his arm be thrown around your shoulders, pulling you in close to him. Your head dropped to his shoulder. “What are we going to do? If it’s positive?”

“Then we’ll figure it out,” he answered, no hesitation in his voice. There was a pause, you not sure what else to say and John B focused on twisting the ends of your hair in his fingers. “You know I was thinking,” he started speaking, now with a slightly nervous twist in his voice, “we could put the baby in my dad’s old room. We could clean it out and everything.” You looked up at your boyfriend. He never even discussed cleaning out his dad’s room, even though the man had been missing for almost 6 months now. But now he sounded so nonchalant about it, like putting a baby in there was the obvious choice. 

“Really?” you asked carefully. 

“Yeah. Me and the guys could build a crib and we could put it right in the middle of the room. I'm sure Kie could paint some stuff for the wall. Make it look nice. And I could build a book shelf that can hold 100 books! And then the baby can grow up and be as smart as Pope,” he grinned. You giggled a bit, admiring the way he seemed to put so much thought into this. 

It suddenly became so clear to you that you were not alone in this. If the test was positive, if there was a human life inside of you at this moment, you didn't have to raise him or her all by yourself. John B was here, grinning like a dope while describing how great a Chateau nursery could be. The pogues would help. Surely they would want to have a hand in raising the next generation of pogues. 

Pope could teach the kid all kinds of facts and all kinds of marvelous things you didn't even know about. Kie could teach them all about the planet and they could help sea turtles hatch on the beach together. JJ would surely teach them how to surf so they could learn from the best there is. 

“You don't think JJ would throw a fit not having that room to bring his hookups into anymore?” you asked, joking of course. 

“I think Uncle JJ will get over it,” John B laughed. 

“Uncle JJ!” you repeated, laughing along with your boyfriend. The laughter died down after a minute and you leaned deeper into your boyfriend. There was no way in hell you could have done this alone. John B lifted his head, kissing the top of your hair and letting his lips rest there as you two sunk into a comfortable silence. 

Soon your phone went off. Three minutes had come and gone. The test would be ready and you would know once and for all if you were going to be a mom. 

“Hey,” John B whispered, getting your attention. “I’m not going anywhere you know. If the test is positive, then I'm not going anywhere. I love you. And that’s our baby. Ok?” 

You didn't really have words that you felt would describe how grateful you were to have him in your life or how much it meant to you that he was so calm and helpful today because you were scared shitless. No words seemed good enough because you were so damn thankful you had him. So you just nodded, leaned forward, and kissed him. It was soft and sweet and quick. But it was all you could muster up. 

The two of you got up from your spot on the floor and stepped gingerly into the bathroom. Neither of you made a move to grab the test as it sat on the counter. You didn't know if you could wait too long after the 3 minutes. Maybe the results would fade away and your would have to take it all over again. The thought of doing all of this again made you want to vomit, so you quickly reached for the test, eyes trained on the little digital results screen. There was one line. One little pink line across the screen and you had no idea what that meant. All the time spent reading the directions paper over and over seemed to be a waste at this moment. Without letting your eyes drift from the screen, your hand repeatedly smacked John B’s shoulder. 

“There’s one line. What does one line mean?” you asked in a frantic voice. 

“Uh, how do I know?” he asked in an equally frantic voice. It was the voice you expected him to be speaking in all day. Finally it came out at the finish line here. 

“Check the box!” 

John B rushed around you, picking up the box and the instruction paper you had discarded across the counter earlier. His eyes shifted between the two objects looking for an answer to the life changing question. Surely he couldn't be reading anything properly like that. Impatient, you grabbed the instruction paper out of his hand, still holding the stick firmly in your right hand. John B was left with the empty box, his eyes scanning it wildly. 

“Oh! Hey ok, two lines is-” John B started, his voice more frantic than you had ever heard it. 

“It’s one line!” you interrupted, not caring at all what two lines meant. 

There was a pause as it seemed like John B was trying to focus on the box, making sure he wasn't imagining things. 

“Negative,” he whispered almost too low for you to hear. 

“Negative? I'm not pregnant?” you asked. John B shook his head. Both of your faces suddenly grew smiles a mile long, now knowing you were not about to be teen parents with no fucking idea what you were doing. “I’m not pregnant!” 

Both of you threw the objects in your hands on the counter and you threw your arms around John B’s neck. He lifted you up, hugging you tight around the torso as you wrapped your legs around him. Your lips met with a crazed passion that can only come with realizing you dodged a bullet. John B shifted, placing you up on top of the bathroom counter, moving to stand in between your legs. The kiss continued for a minute, threatening to deepen, which seemed counterproductive to the achievement you were celebrating. You pulled apart, your smile quaint but with your face sunken a bit. 

“What?” John B asked, noticing your smile not as bright as it was when you read the results of the test. 

“Nothing,” you lied. Well, not lied, but it was a stupid thing to have disappointment pinging in your chest in a moment like this. “I mean, don't get me wrong I’m not exactly disappointed I don't get to be a 16 year old mother. But, I don't know, it was all kind of nice to think about. You and me and a baby. And it’s own little room here and all the pogues helping out. It was nice,” you admitted. 

“I know it was,” John B cooed. He could admit, he felt the same weird ping of disappointment rattling around inside of him. There was no way he was ready to be a dad. He could barely take care of himself. But his mind had already started piecing together all the ways they could make it work. And now it felt like his heart was taking a bit of a hit, knowing there wouldn't be a little baby around that had your eyes and your smile and your laugh. “But one day. One day we’ll have that.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah. When you birth all of my children,” he claimed, with that cheeky grin twisting his lips up. 

“Oh? I’m birthing all your children? Really?” you laughed. 

“Oh yeah. No doubt about it.” 

You cupped his cheeks and smiled into another kiss. You loved him. You loved each other. And today wasn't the day for you two to have a baby and thank god for that because as much as it was a cute thought, you knew having a baby right now would be a total shit show. But at some point, there would be a hand built crib in the room across the way from John B’s and there would be a baby. A pogue baby with John B’s freckles and the same floppy, golden hair. 

“One day?” John B asked as you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him closer. 

“Ok. Deal.” 

[sunonyoreface]

Forest Nymph | Geralt of Rivia Pt.3

Hello!! Thank you so much for taking the time to read my fanfic!  This is part three of my first series and I can’t wait to see where this series takes us!

Warnings: swearing

Word count: 2105

Thank you to @movies-music-series​ for letting me use their gif!

Geralt awakes with a jolt.  His eyes snap open and are immediately alert.  There is no such thing as a good night’s rest for a Witcher.  Not for Geralt at least.  

Something is watching him.  He can feel it and yet, his pendant is deadly still.  He rises with caution and scans the forest surrounding him. Nothing.  Yet he can’t shake the feeling that he’s being watched.

Then he notices you are gone.  You left without a trace sometime in the dead of night.  That’s probably for the best, he thinks.  And yet�� Geralt can’t get his mind off of your angelic features.  The delicacy in the way you walk, how your feet barely touch the ground they travel upon.  His mind wanders to your touch, and the electrical current which seemed to surprise you as much as him.  Despite the shock, your hands were soft and gentle.  How he yearns to feel your touch again.

The sound of Roach whinnying alerts Geralt to a possible danger, to which he realizes he cannot see him anywhere.  Geralt’s heart rate picks up at the thought of losing Roach; he starts running in the direction of the call.  His eyes quickly scan the surrounding trees, searching for a threat he may have missed the first time.  After several minutes of searching, he comes across Roach, who excitedly munches at an apple growing from a young apple tree.  The tree is short and easily accessible, with smooth unscathed bark around its stump, the sort of tree that would not normally bear fruit for another five years, and yet, here it is.  Clearly one of your works of art.  Roach must be in love with her, he thinks.  

You left as soon as the embers died and no longer gave off any light. You feel confused and left out of options as to what to do.  If the Witcher chooses not to kill you, then what?  The villagers hire someone who will?  Your options are limited, but right now, you need to get back to your cottage, at least for a little while to think things through.

To the untrained eye, your cozy little cottage blends in with the slightly larger than normal thicket.  Nothing that unusual, unless you know what to look for.  You grew the walls and made them of tightly weaved stalks that keep out the rain.  The trees have since continued to grow on their own to home many smaller inhabitants in their upper branches.  They twist and turn in unnatural angles to allow for extensive windows that let in the warm natural light.  Inside, your floors are covered in a carpet of soft moss.  You almost never wear shoes inside.  All of your furniture is made of natural materials.  Of old trees which toppled over ready for repurposing, uniquely shaped rocks that work perfectly as benches, and anything else you might be able to forage from the bountiful area.  

When you step inside a scent of familiarity wraps around you.  The smell of home.  It’s quiet.  The usual sounds of wind, squirrels, and birds which normally fill the air fade away into the background.  The silence makes you tired.  Oh, how you long for a solid night’s worth of sleep.  So, naturally, your feet instinctually carry you off to your soft, embracing bed. Finally, you sigh.

Geralt doesn’t know what to tell the king.  Maybe he doesn’t tell him anything.  After all, all the king wanted was for him to look into what was damaging their crops.  He never mentioned that Geralt had to take any action against you.  He has a feeling that won’t cut it.  Then again, what harm could really come from telling the king about the dryad?  Geralt isn’t going to kill her, and the King’s army couldn’t find her if they tried. She’s too sneaky, and they're too incompetent at everything they do.  The farmers are too busy getting shitfaced at the alehouse, he doubts they can see past their own feet.  

He was supposed to meet the king for lunch.  It’s currently mid-afternoon.  Maybe closer to late afternoon, he thinks.  It’s hard to see the sun under the canopy of trees.  Either way, Geralt doesn’t care.  The King doesn’t matter.  None of them do.  He has lived through hundreds of kings and none of them stick out as important. They spend their time implementing new policies which really aren’t new, then destroying ones that their past rulers have made and so on.  Nothing has changed in Geralt’s hundred or so years on this Earth.  Humans operate in circles; they always have and will continue to do so until they cease to exist.  Maybe that’s too pessimistic.

Villagers bustle around the center of the town in a lively matter. Why wouldn’t they? Tomorrow is their day of rest and worship; they have the whole night to commit unholy sins. Geralt wonders where Jaskier has gone off too.  The alehouse probably.  Or maybe he is serenading some poor wenches.  What would he think of the forest nymph?

King Cassius of Asenguard lives in a castle so enormous that he has likely never been in every room.  It towers over his kingdom and peers into every grimy rut he rules over.  His people live in the slums while he has never truly worked a day in his life.  Geralt has a special kind of hatred for this kind of man, if one would even go so far as to call him that.  However, his large pocket is quite persuasive.  

“Ah! Mr. Witcher, so nice of you to join us today! I was almost about to send out my cavalry to search for you.” He laughs seemingly in good humour, but the room is tense.  The servants have witnessed enough of his behaviour to know that an outburst is about to happen.  Geralt doesn’t laugh.  He doesn’t even smile.  Cassius’ snarky joke only vexes him.

“My deepest apologies King Cassius, I was too busy cleaning the shit off my boots on your doorstep.  Your kingdom’s full of it.”  Geralt jabs back at him.  The snarky smile is wiped off of Cassius’ face.  He is not used to being talked back to.  While he is technically in charge, the Witcher emanates power.  If things become physical, the King and his guards will stand no chance, and in the back of his head, he knows that.  

“That’s enough, Mr. Witcher,” He drawls. “I just want to know if you have gotten rid of whatever is pissing my farmers off, they’re very persuasive people you know. They even threatened my bread production.  My God, what would we do without bread?”

“I did what you paid me to do.” He responds, the words tight in his mouth through his clenched jaw.

“What so you found the blasted demon wrecking my land, but didn’t kill it? I thought you were the Butcher of Blaviken? The White Wolf? Your job is to kill monsters.  That’s what I am paying you to do.”  The level of threat in the King’s voice raises exponentially.

“You asked me to find out what was causing your little problem.  That’s it.” Geralt spits back.  “You will pay me for my service.”

“Will I?”

“If you want to keep your head, then yes.” The Witcher’s eyes look as though they have turned to flames.  The threat is real, King Cassius, as inept as he is, can sense that much.

“Fine.” He huffs in annoyance. “Then what is it I am paying for? What is the wretched thing eating away at my land?”  

“A witch.”  Geralt states.

“Just a witch?”

“Just a witch.” He confirms.

“You couldn’t kill just a witch?”  Geralt’s hands twitch at his side.  The urge to reach for his sword is overwhelming.

“Just give me my coin.”

“Fine.” he tosses a small bag filled with coins at the Witcher, “Here you go. Now unless you are hunting that witch get the hell out of my kingdom.”

“My pleasure.” But first, he has to find Jaskier.

The first place Geralt checks is the alehouse.  And he is right.  He’s almost scarily right when it comes to Jaskier’s whereabouts, not that they deviate much.  It was the alehouse or the brothel and if he is anywhere else then something is likely wrong.

“We need to go, Jaskier.”  Geralt says before he has fully approached him.

“Well hello to you too!  You just got here, why don’t you have a drink?”

“No, Jaskier, we need to go.”  He is fully aware of the eyes already on him.  The whole village thought he was going to solve their “demon” problem and now he hasn’t.  He has about five minutes before they start throwing food at him and Jaskier both.

“Just relax for once Geralt.  Have a drink! Celebrate! I just finished telling Fleming over there how you are going to kill the thing wrecking their crops.” He laughs unknowingly.  Fleming, a large man sitting only a few chairs over, raises his mug to cheers with Jaskier before taking a large swig of ale.

“I will explain outside but we need to go.” Geralt urges once more.

“I’ll catch up with you.”

“No, Jaskier.” He whispers, “I didn’t kill her and your friend Fleming over there is not going to like that.” The underlying threat is clear in his tone, and finally, Jaskier takes the hint.

“Oh, right then.” A look of guilt crosses his face. “Fleming, don’t you worry, I will be right back!”

They are barely out of the alehouse when a voice calls out from behind an alley.

“Aye! That’s him. That’s the Witcher!”  A man standing with a group of drunks yells out.  “A little birdy tells me you didn’t kill the wretched thing wrecking our crops!”

Geralt doesn’t respond.  

“Well?” He takes a swig from his mug, “Why the fuck not?”

“You seem to be able to handle the situation fine on your own.” He states. With that, they go to leave, but the sound of a sword being drawn brings Geralt’s attention back to the group of men. An odd straggler, likely drunker than the rest of them, honestly thinks he stands a chance.

“Yeah? Well fuck you!” He shouts.

“Yeah!” some other men cheer him on.  This isn’t good.  Before Geralt can talk his way out of this, the man charges at him, sword held high, ready to fight.  Left no choice, Geralt conjures the Sign of Aard and uses it to blast the overly confident drunk and his friends back.  They go flying back, their limbs sprawled every which way, drinks thrown from their hands, until their hurled bodies finally make a rough impact with a ground. That should stop them, he thinks. Time to get out of this shitty village.

Once out of the village, Geralt and Jaskier continue into dusk at a slower than average pace.  The evening is actually quite nice.  Not too hot or cold, almost perfect.  The sky is clear, and the stars will start to come out within the hour.  The birds chatter to each other quietly in the background. Jaskier, while still a bit tipsy, is wound up in telling Geralt about a woman in a beautiful pink dress who was more than happy to have him stay the night in her hot, steamy bed.  Something you could have seen coming from miles away.

Suddenly, a doe jumps out from the forest line, then freezes in the middle of the dirt road.  She looks between them for a moment before sprinting off again, almost as if nothing happened.

“Geralt, why didn’t you get her? That would’ve been dinner for the next week!” Jaskier huffs in disappointment.  While rabbits are easy to trap, he would take venison over them any day.  

Two more deer jump out from the treeline, this time neither pause to look at Geralt or Jaskier, who barely notices their presence.  Geralt pulls back on Roach’s reins.  Roach reluctantly stops.

“Something is wrong.” He whispers to himself.

“What?” Asks Jaskier.  “Geralt I can’t hear you when you mumble.”

The birds have stopped chirping.  The forest is deathly silent.  Something is definitely wrong.  Another group of deer bound onto the road as though the two of them aren’t even there.  More animals now, rabbits, foxes and larger, more unpleasant creatures sprint across the road paying them no attention.  

The wind switches direction and the smell of smoke overwhelms their senses.  Geralt turns around to see the far-off horizon glowing orange.  Sparks explode out of a daunting wall of smoke.  The Asenguard forest is burning relentlessly with no signs of stopping.

---

Thank you so much for your feedback!! I love hearing from yall

Pt.1

https://sunonyoreface.tumblr.com/post/613040114715820032/forest-nymph-geralt-of-rivia-pt-1-hi-this-is-my

Pt.2

https://sunonyoreface.tumblr.com/post/613171373679034368/forest-nymph-geralt-of-rivia-pt2

Pt.4

https://sunonyoreface.tumblr.com/post/613676968381136896/forest-nymph-geralt-of-rivia-pt4

Tag List: @nadia-rosea

[multifandombitxh]

Title: Better Off (Chapter 1) Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Quirkless!Reader Chapter Genre: Fluff with a pinch of angst Chapter Warnings: Blood, mention of MOIDER A/N: This was originally going to be a continuation of In Truth, but I decided to make it its own thing. It’s mostly just more Sweet Dabi, with some Spicy Protective Dabi this time around! Pls enjoy ur meal PS I don’t proofread very well have mercy on me I am so tired

Chapter 1: Weary

By the time Dabi finally walked through the front door, the clock had just ticked over to five in the morning. His legs were sore, his head ached, and all he really wanted was to crawl into bed and sleep everything off. The previous few days had been nothing short of stressful. Shigaraki had been at his throat at every chance he could get, and it was beginning to cause conflict within the group. There was a “small” altercation just before he’d left for the night, which ended the meeting on a sour note.

A yawn escaped his lips as the locked the door, kicking off his boots and peeling off his coat in the process. After a quick wardrobe change, he slowly crept into your shared bedroom, his heart dancing at the sight of you sleeping soundly. He couldn’t help himself from kneeling down in front of you, resting his head on his arms, and watching you snore quietly. A small, love-struck smile was plastered to his face.

Dabi leaned in close to press his lips to the shell of your ear, letting one of his hands cup the base of your neck. By now he was basically hovering over you, and decided to take it a step further by actually crawling into bed. Just as he’d expected, your eyes flew open in shock, but you quickly relaxed once you realized who it was.

“Hey, beautiful,” He said, keeping his voice low.

“Hi,” You replied simply, “When did you get home?”

He silenced you by planting a lingering kiss to your lips, relishing in the moment and breathing in deeply through his nose. You wasted no time in weaving your hands into his dark hair, the sensation leaving him weak. No matter how hard he tried, he could never find his strength around you. His knees always buckled when you kissed him, his heart always fluttered when you called his name, and he could drop dead on the spot whenever you told him you loved him.

“I missed you,” Dabi breathed, breaking the kiss.

“I missed you, too,” You said fondly. After your eyes fluttered open to look up into his, you hands halted in his hair, a confused and concerned look crossing your face.

“What is it?” He asked.

One of your hands trailed down the side of his face and he winced. “Dabi, what did you do? You have a huge cut by your eye.”

Dabi laughed it off as best as he could before shifting to lay beside you. “Must’ve happened at work. I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding.”

“Am I?”

“Yes, all over the pillows, actually.”

With a sigh, he hoisted himself to sit upright, touching the tender spot on his face. When he pulled his hand away and saw that he was, in fact, bleeding, a deep groan wormed its way out of his mouth. “Fucking perfect.”

“Stay here,” You said, ruffling the hair on the top of his head as you abandoned your spot on the bed. He watched you as you walked out of your bedroom, laughing under his breath when you nearly tripped over your own feet in your sleepy state. When you returned with disinfectant and a wet towel, Dabi leaned back against the head board and decided to rest his tired eyes. The mattress dipped beside him as you crawled back onto the sheets. He was keenly aware of your close presence, but still winced and grunted when you pressed the damp towel to his wound.

“Sit still,” You said, your unspoken worries lacing your tone of voice.

Deep down, Dabi knew that he was no good for you. He knew that one day, sooner or later, you would find out for yourself exactly what kind of monster he was, and you’d bolt. There was no doubt in his mind about it; he was going to ruin you, whether you knew it or not. A sick feeling settled in his stomach as he pondered those thoughts, the sensation worsening when he pictured the look on your face when you finally realized what he was; a villain.

He often wondered if you would care at all if you knew. You’d told him countless times that some villains can be justified in their intentions, but not their actions. It was entirely possible you might try to turn his life around; to get him on the right path and have a life worth living. No more devious plots, no more late-night League meetings, no more death. Dabi wasn’t sure if that was a life he was ready for, let alone deserved. The idea of stability was foreign to him and always had been.

At the same time, however, he couldn’t help but wonder what you would look like in a wedding gown, walking down a rose petal aisle with flowers in your hair. Or how wonderful of a mother you might be, if that was something you wanted. The idea of watching you hold your child for the first time nearly brought a tear to his eye. It twisted his heart to think that one day you might have exactly that; a normal, stable, human life. Just not with him.

He could never be a father, or a husband. Not like this.

Before he knew it, you were placing a bandage over the gash and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

“Good as new,” You declared cheerfully, setting down the medical supplies on the nightstand behind you. “Feel better?”

“What? Oh, yeah, much better. Thanks, sweetheart.”

When he glanced over at you, you were sitting on your legs, hands resting in your lap, softness painting your beautiful features. He reached out and placed his palm over your cheek, just like he always did, and let the pad of his thumb caress your cheekbone. You leaned into his touch, just like you always did, and a smile stretched over your lips. It was comfortable, quiet; the early morning sun creeping in through the curtains and canvassing the room in specks of gold. Peace wasn’t a luxury Dabi had the chance to experience often, but any time he managed to get a taste, you were always there.

Most days he wondered if you really were an angel. Compared to most people he knew, you were saint-like. Maybe you did have a quirk, after all; radiating peace.

“Tell me about your day,” Dabi muttered, pressing his forehead against yours.

As you quietly recounted the days events, he let his hands roam as they pleased; over your neck, stroking your shoulders, down your arms, and finally ending the journey with his fingers intertwined with yours. He nodded and listened as you spoke; smiling when you described the peaceful train ride to work, scoffing when you complained about a coworker. Every word that came out of your mouth fascinated him, reminding him that there were so many things in the world he never thought about, or cared to notice. Hell, he never bothered to enjoy a sunset until he met you. Now, he couldn’t get enough of them.

“Something did happen, though,” You said cautiously, “As I was leaving work today.”

Dabi pulled back to look you in the face, frowning when you wouldn’t meet his gaze. “What happened?”

“It’s not a big deal, really,” You began, “But... my ex kind of found out where I work. He was waiting outside the building when I left.”

“He what?”

“It’s not a big deal!” You repeated, holding up your palms defensively. “Seriously, I had it under control, and my coworker came out to help. We handled it, I promise.”

The thought of you having to deal with your ex boyfriend and him not being there to help was enough to make his blood curdle. Anger rose in his chest, a lump forming in his throat as he tried to rationalize what to say next. His immediate first thought was to plot the bastard’s murder, but when he saw the worried look on your face, that impulse disappeared. You were gripping his hands tight, gazing into his eyes to gauge his reaction. After taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and lowered his head, trying to find the strength to calm down.

Your hands abandoned his to cup the sides of his face, forcing him to look at you again. “Dabi, please say something.”

“He could’ve hurt you and I wasn’t there to protect you,” He said at last, a growl lacing his words. “I swear to god, I’ll kill him if he ever comes near you again. I’ll-”

He was cut off by your lips on his, his anger melting away to be replaced by something warm and welcoming. His heart lurched against his ribs as you kissed him, your hands lost in his hair, one of his own pulling you closer by the waist. Kissing you was like the tide; drawing him in and back out again, washing away his fears and worries while lulling him into a hypnotic state. It was addictive, and he could never seem to get his fill.

After several minutes of bliss, you broke the kiss to rest your forehead against his. Silence filled the dark room as you sat, content in each others presence. Having finally calmed down enough to think straight, Dabi decided it best not to dwell on it, and to figure out what to do in the morning. Maybe he could get the League involved, teach the guy a lesson, hit him where it hurts. It would be easier with the others, especially Compress. His Quirk would make hiding a body much easier. Toga was pretty scary all on her own, he could probably convince her to freak your ex out a little... or a lot.

But all of that could wait. For now, he only wanted to hold you close and get some sleep.

“I think I know how to fix the problem,” Dabi declared, opening his eyes. “Temporarily, at least.”

“Oh, really? How?”

As swiftly as he could, Dabi scooped you up in his arms and placed you in his lap, smiling widely at the sweet squeal you let out in protest. He managed to grab the blanket in the process, draping it over your bodies before circling his arms around you completely. After propping himself up against the pillows, he leaned down to press his lips to yours for the hundredth time that night.

“I think,” Dabi whispered between chaste kisses, “You should take today off.”

“I can’t miss another day of work,” You half-whined, “What am I supposed to tell them this time? My boyfriend is keeping me hostage in our own home?”

“Sure, that could work.”

“Or, I could work.”

Sighing in defeat, he let his head fall back against the headboard again and shut his eyes. “I guess I can’t stop you.”

“Damn right you can’t,” You said playfully, shoving at his chest lightly. You both laughed quietly, then settled into the embrace.

“You know,” Dabi said, licking his lips. “If you wanted, I could do something about that guy for you, Y/N.”

You scoffed. “Like what? Abduct him and set him on fire? Yeah, I’d really rather not have that conversation with the cops, babe.”

“I’m just saying,” He replied with a nonchalant shrug, “Sometimes guys like him need to be taught a lesson, that’s all. I’m sure he’d leave you alone if I gave him a reason to stay away.”

“I don’t know if I like how that sounds, especially coming from you.”

After kicking himself mentally for letting his malicious thoughts spill out, Dabi slipped his hand underneath the back of your shirt and trailed his nails over your skin. You immediately reacted to the touch, your body going stiff before melting into him again. As he scratched you back and shoulders, he pressed several small kisses to the top of your head, breathing in your scent.

“I’m sorry, angel. I just want you to be safe.”

“I want you to be safe too, you know,” You mumbled sleepily against his warm chest, “You’re important to me.”

The conversation ended there, leaving you to fall back into a silent sleep, and leaving Dabi to fight back tears.

[adonis-koo]

Three’s a crowd

| 13 | 

Plot: (CEO AU) When your mom’s fairytale life begins to bleed over into your world you’re suddenly caught between two men and one big secret, what was suppose to be a relaxing trip soon begins to spiral out of control. All you wanted was a free vacation…

Pairing: Jungkook/Reader/Jimin, Hoseok/Reader, Taehyung/Reader, Seokjin/Reader

Genre: Smut, angst, drama, angst with a happy ending

Word count: 7.6K

Previous | Next

Warning ⚠️ This fic touches on drug use, alcoholism and abuse. Please read with caution if any of these things are triggers for you 🖤

It was quiet for a moment as people in the hallway pushed past you both paying you no mind, not realizing just what situation you were in and who you were standing in front of. Jungkook’s expression had hardened slightly, now focused on your poor battered face that definitely didn’t do you any favors in terms of his harsh, broody expression.

After a moment he suddenly reached out, grabbing your chin, lifting it to get a better look at your face before almost demanding, “Who did this to you?” 

Your body jolted at the feeling, not expecting such a gesture or his tone of voice. It wasn’t so much your own history with Jungkook that made you suddenly shoved his hand away, “Don’t touch me.” You snapped sharply making him wince, he bowed his head slightly in apology as if realizing he shouldn’t of done that so abruptly. 

It was moreso after the fight with your father that had you over the edge on any sort of touching, you were too hyper aware of your surroundings and even the littlest of touches could send you into a mental breakdown at the moment, “Sorry….” Jungkook murmured, looking down towards your shoes as if knowing he was most likely overstepping his boundaries regardless before sighing, “Is there somewhere private we can speak?”

Closing your eyes you sighed before nodding, without so much as a word you turned back around heading for the elevator while chugging down the last half of your energy drink, chucking it into the garbage can right outside the elevator before stepping in. This conversation was inevitable, but you still couldn’t help but dread it, what was his answer to everything? Would you even get an answer? 

Your mind was swarming with silent questions as both you and Jungkook stood in silence the whole time, people sifting in and out of the elevator until you stopped at the fourth floor. This floor was a lot less busy but you didn’t plan on letting him talk here either, video feed was all over the place and if this was far enough beyond you to have someone break into your house.

You wouldn’t be surprised if they could access the hospital camera feed, pulling the master key from the chain around your neck- it was mainly for access to all the rooms for cleaning but you’d rarely had reason to misuse it the one exception being Jungkook.

You had opened the door to the staff hallway before weaving up the steps continuing until the glow of the ‘Exit’ sign was visible. The roof would be the safest place for you both to properly discuss this without being overheard. The cool night air nipped at the open skin of your arms, your jump suit only being half worn as it always was making you rub your arms for warmth as you stepped out onto the roof.

“Well…?” You asked over your shoulder, walking up to the ledge that looked out over the busy city of Seoul, the cars never ending and the lights never wavering. This city was bred full of nightmares and late nights for you. But sometimes, on break you enjoyed coming up here to clear your head, watch the world continue spinning as thousands continued their lives down below.

You turned around to face Jungkook who hadn’t been looking at you, his expression still somber as he pushed his hands into the pockets of his slacks. You supposed at the moment, you truly both took on your roles well, him the well dressed billionaire, his black button up had the first three buttons undone and his sleeves had been rolled up, his tie poked out his back pocket. The rolex dawning his wrist and the armani shoes he wore, he screamed wealth.

And then there was you, the street rat with a tired, worn out face to match. Your expression was hard and you knew it but you still weren’t sure if you could really trust Jungkook, maybe that was the trauma talking now, you weren’t sure about anything anymore.

“Y/n…” He sighed before taking a few steps closer to you, his expression unreadable and maybe for a good reason as he shifted his weight from foot to foot, “Let me just start by saying, I want to tell you everything. But that doesn’t mean I can…”

Your face curled slightly in sourness at his words as he sighed once more, running his hand through his hair as if anticipating your reaction. He seriously dragged you all the way up here, practically begged you to listen to him, and that was his answer to all of this? You weren’t sure what you had expected, and briefly, you wondered if you should’ve expected that to be his answer. Or course he wasn’t going to tell you anything. 

“Then why are you even here?” You almost snarled in frustrated too many thoughts bubbling in your head to keep the anger out of your voice, “My life has already been hell and your contribution really isn’t helping me out.” 

“The less you know, the safer you’re going to be,” Jungkook defended himself, his expression hardening as well, not appreciating your words but that didn’t make them any less true, “I’m here because I’m going to tell you as much as I can. You were never supposed to see what you did at the party.”

Pressing your tongue into your cheek you inhaled sharply, the tension between you both cutting through the cool breeze. You weren’t surprised, of course he didn’t want you seeing him murder someone that night, who would? Jeon Jungkook with a gun in his hands and empty eyes? Just the repeat of his previous words in your mind making you all the more irritated. 

It was silent for another minute before you finally scoffed running a hand through your hair as you huffed, “I don’t fucking doubt it but I still did. But let’s hypothetically say I didn’t see it, and we did end up getting together- how long would you keep it from me? T-this- this...fucking secret life you live when you aren’t playing billionaire playboy!” 

You didn’t want to use that card, you didn’t feel comfortable above all else even thinking about you and Jungkook being together...romantically...Especially now with everything that had happened. but it still begged the question. If he never intended for you to find out, just when was he going to break it to you that he killed countless people?

Jungkook’s shoulders tensed at your words and his jaw clenched, you could visibly see his adam apple bob as he swallowed thickly, “Don’t go there Y/n. You don’t understand anything you’re even saying at the moment. This side of me? It isn’t meant for you or anyone else outside of work to see. Romantic or not you aren’t an exception. I’m not proud of it,” He almost sneered out, the cold look returned in his eyes as he gritted his teeth, “I didn’t ask to be put in the position I am and I sure as fuck don’t like having to pull the trigger but I do what needs to be done.”

You couldn’t even look at him anymore as you raked your hands into your hair, a sickness taking root in your stomach at how callous he was being, he was talking about murder like it was just a chore! “You fucking killed someone!” You shouted incredulously, still in partial disbelief at how he could ever say something like that, “I-....I don’t even know what to say anymore,” You muttered more weakly as you pressed your face into your hands, “I don’t know what’s going on and I didn’t fucking ask to be put in the middle of this. I thought once I got back to Seoul life would go back to normal but it’s not okay!?”

Your hands were trembling and your voice had cracked, as you snapped your head up to look at Jungkook, “My life is anything but normal anymore and I just want one fucking answer on why, is that so difficult to give me!? I’m not asking you to put a ring on it Jungkook, I’m not fucking asking you to give me a detailed essay on what shady shit you’re involved in. I just want my life back to the way it use to be!” 

You hated the way your vision was beginning to blur and how the tears threatened to drip down your cheeks but the anger in your voice didn’t falter for a second and your glare only made your expression that much more pitiful. 

It was Jungkook’s turn to face away from you, a hint of guilt on his face as he sighed rubbing his forehead. He leaned down against the ledge of the roof before letting his hand run through his hair, “Even if I were able to tell you everything, you know that isn’t going to make things go back to the way they used to be…”

Fuck him…! Anger burned in your veins as you harshly rubbed your cheeks as the tears hotly slipped down, you hated that he was right. You hated that Jungkook, at the moment was telling you what you needed to hear, not what you wanted too.

“You need to listen to me, very carefully Y/n,” Jungkook’s jaw was clenched once more and his eyes were almost glaring out over the city lights as if he was now refusing to look at you, maybe he’d crumble at the sight of the bitter tears staining your face, maybe he knew you’d snap at him again if he so dared as raised a hand in comfort for you, it wasn’t just him being defensive. It was you, of course, you wouldn’t let him help you even if he wanted too. 

“My dad’s company is in a very tight spot at the moment in...for lack of a better word, underground affairs. There’s a lot of people not happy with a few decisions I’ve made within the few recent months on his behalf and while I’m not on a hitlist at the moment,” he gritted his teeth and his gaze became fiery as if they could vaporize the entirety of Seoul if he wished, “Everyone I care about is. You’ve been lumped into that category whether you like it or not so please,” He finally glanced at you, his gaze just as intense as before, though a note in his eyes had shifted to a more pleading, “Trust me when I say you’re better off not knowing everything if you value your own life at all.”

“And if I don’t?” You stubbornly spat out as your brows pressed together, anger reigniting in your veins as you crossed your arms defensively. At the moment, you really didn’t have a lot in life going for you anyways. And hey, if you got lynched off by a hitman at least you’d die at peace knowing why the fuck it happened.

Your words made his jaw clench again and his eyes twist into another glare as he stepped closer to you, “Do you even hear yourself right now? I know damn well you do so stop. Throw a tantrum all you want but I’m not going to change my mind. Call me a murder all you want but that won’t change the fact that those guys, that innocent man,” Jungkook was sneering at the memory as he gritted his teeth, “Yoongi found them planting C4’s all along the lower levels of the building. They aren’t innocent in the least Y/n, if I have blood on my hands then they might as well be bathing it in. I do what’s necessary and no more.” 

Pressing your lips together the only sound was the wind blowing past you both as you carefully took a step back. Were those men really going to kill so many innocent people just for one guy? It made you briefly wonder just what Jungkook had done for that to be, “...And my apartment…?” 

You couldn’t find the energy to be angry anymore, you had already had both a stressful and emotional day, you couldn’t find the strength to keep the theme running. You still didn’t necessarily agree with his method of action, even if they were planning to blow up the whole building, but you did feel like the level of violence seemed to fit whatever was going on between Jungkook and these men.

“They weren’t looking for anything Y/n,” Jungkook replied, his eyes unreadable once more before he continued, “They were looking for you. I don’t want to scare you but they’re willing to do anything to get to me, and even if you aren’t someone I’m close to they’d take you anyways, they don’t follow morals.”

Running your hand through your hair you sighed while beginning to pace, just who were they? What could Jungkook have done for a group of people to be so angry? You had so many questions, more than had been answered so far. And now all you were beginning to feel was regret, maybe you should’ve let Hoseok just steer him away from you. In fact, you would have definitely preferred that now but…

You couldn’t just keep running away from everything, just like you assumed, things were serious now more than ever and you doubt it was going away anytime soon. Finally you stopped, pressing your hands against your face as you sighed, god what were you going to do? You felt a surge of defeat in your chest as you swallowed your emotions down.

“Y/n, please talk to me…” You heard Jungkook’s voice softened again as his footsteps sounded closer, “Look I understand if you don’t want things to go further with us- Hell I don’t blame you for not wanting to see me at all after everything that’s happened, but you need to trust me on this. Maybe you don’t care what happens to yourself but I do.”

And just like that the whirlwind of emotions you had so desperately swallowed down were bubbling inside you once more as you swallowed thickly, how could he go from emotionless, cold, CEO to a caring sweetheart in the span of five minutes? “Stop!” You cried out finally at the feeling of his hand on your shoulder, jerking away from him you grabbed your head as your voice cracked, “Just stop okay! Stop acting like you care!” 

“But I do care Y/n, why is that so hard to believe?” Jungkook replied back just as strong taking another step closer to try and close the distance again, his brows furrowed in confusion and a little offense.

Why? Why!? Your mind was racing ninety to nothing as you sputtered back, “Because..you- you..- We’ve only known each other for a week and a half! Not even a half! This is insane Jungkook! You’re publicly engaged, I saw you kill someone- I..-I...holy fuck do you even hear yourself!?” 

“I don’t care how long we’ve known each other, I like you okay? I don’t know why but I do, but I do! And if you want to never see me again after this then fine, I’d never do anything you don’t want but for right now? Please just listen to me, let me keep you safe until all of this has blown over.” Jungkook almost pleaded with you, his eyes looking close to bambi’s that felt too difficult to say no to but you couldn’t even make a sound anymore. 

He wanted to what? Just hearing that word felt foreign on your ears as you ran a hand through your already messed up, and probably oily hair now as you inhaled sharply, “How!?” You threw your arms up, “My apartments been obliterated Jungkook, my mom won’t even let me go back to clean up until the police have a lead. I’m stuck at Park’s estate for god only knows how long, just how do you think you’re gonna keep me safe, huh?” You spat out with demand, hands shaking as your breath hitching. You couldn’t have another breakdown tonight. 

“Everything is going to be fine, okay?” Jungkook replied soothingly, making quick note of your shaky demeanor, your eyes watery but you refused to cry again, you couldn’t cry again, “My mom can explain the situation on a more discreet note to her, you can still go to your day job but it’s better if you stay away from the ward- especially at night. Once I get things cleared up you can go back to normal and pretend I never existed in your life okay? But please, for the love of god, just stay with me until you’re safe.”

Whatever little control you did have on your life felt like it was already being ripped away and before you knew it you felt the familiar warm liquid dripping down your cheeks as you hurriedly wiped your eyes, angry at yourself for crying once again but the tears wouldn’t stop, “I...I can’t afford to lose my job here Jungkook, I can’t ghost work for god only knows how long until you get your fucking hitlist sorted.” You tried your best to look anywhere but at him as you tried to control your shallow breaths. 

You jumped at the feeling of him cupping your face, his thumbs pushed away the tears that refused to stop as Jungkook murmured softly, “Baby listen to me, I’ll take care of everything. You aren’t going to lose your job here, I’ll wire you the money you lost to make up for the hours you missed and I’ll make sure your apartment gets cleaned up. I know you didn’t ask for this, and I know you feel like everything is out of your control but this is temporary okay? I’m only doing this because if I don’t you will be hurt. And maybe you don’t care but I do, so please, stay with me.” 

You couldn’t even look at him, your shoulders were bouncing from your sniffling and your eyes were snapped shut, “Well it’s not like I have much of a choice, right?”

“Don’t say it like that,” Jungkook sighed softly, pushed the strands of hair behind your ear before letting his thumb stroke back along your cheekbone making you wince from the bruise that had begun forming, “I’m never going to force you to say yes, just please work with me okay? I’d feel best if you stayed with me but we can work something else out, I can have you stay at Dark Ace here if you want, or I can buy you an apartment building, or- what’s with that look?” Jungkook paused, looking like a lost puppy at your grim smile. 

“You’re so fucking rich I honestly can’t stand listening to you sometimes.” He was really willing to buy you a whole apartment building just so you could be safe? If you weren’t so emotionally drained you would’ve felt a little flattered. But all you felt now was tired and in need of another cup of ramen. 

“Is that a yes...? Jungkook asked a little hesitantly, a small bashful smile tugging on his lips as he peered down at you his eyes looking a little more hopeful.

It felt like you were taking scraps now, but if you really were in more danger then you realized, and things really were serious. And if Jungkook was willing to give you a few options, then who were you to say no? You could laugh all day long about it but you didn’t want your untimely death to be caused by him, “I guess, I don’t really wanna get lynched because of you so…”

“I expected as much. Let’s go, it’s late and I’m sure you’re tired. I’ll get everything sorted first thing in the morning.” Jungkook replied, already wrapping an arm around you as he began walking towards the entry to the building. Any other day you would’ve slowed him down, but he was right. You were tired, you were beyond exhausted and you were on your last hour of your shift anyways. 

Rather than saying anything, you followed beside him, muscles a little tense under his grasp but it was delicate, as if sensing your tension. You had made sure to clock out and peel off your jumpsuit in the breakroom before shooting Hoseok a text, he’d be pissed for sure. But he wouldn’t want you to take a risk knowing you were under suspect for abduction.

Unshockingly a sleek black Viper was apparently Jungkook’s choice of car as he opened the door for you, giving you a gentle, encouraging push as you sat down. The smell of leather faint against the vanilla scent he had hanging from the mirror. 

He must’ve drove himself a lot for the new smell to be worn off and the feeling of comfort settled in the air. The drive was mainly silent but not a tense one, you had rested your head against the glass of the window watching the world as it passed you by. There were so many people out that night and little did they know who you were and what you had accidentally become involved in. 

It wasn’t until you had entered the gated community that you perked up a little, every house’s lights were turned off as your eyes flickered to the time that just turned 4:12 in the morning. Soon you’d be just like them, but you couldn’t help but worry. Even if Jungkook’s mom could soothe your mother’s nerves you knew she’d be undoubtedly upset with you, just what would his mom say, what would the cover be for you? And would it really work? 

“We’ll discuss your living arrangements in the morning, so for now you’ll stay the night with me.” Jungkook had put the car in park as he explained. You pressed your lips together taking in the front of the house, it was clad in dark browns and deep grey tones of unsymmetrical brick, the walkway was filled on each side with well kept tiger lilies. 

You weren’t sure what you were expecting his house to look like, or better yet you didn’t even think he was living on his own yet. But it made sense, he was 23 after all and could probably buy a third of the moon if he wanted. His pick of house was still unexpected though, it wasn’t an estate, mansion or a fancy penthouse, it didn’t even have a second floor. 

Shutting the door to the car you finally spoke, “Feels a little weird, not gonna lie.” Walking beside him you kept your eyes to the uncracked pavement as you stepped up onto the platform of the door while waiting for him to unlock it.

“What do you mean?” Jungkook asked, glancing over his shoulder briefly with a confused glance before opening the door, yawning on his way inside and admittedly looking just as tired as you. How much sleep had he been getting lately with all of this going on?

“I’ve never actually gone home with someone,” You admitted as you stepped inside behind him, only making him stop before turning around to face you, his expression a little exasperated making your lips curl up slightly, “I’m being honest, deadass. Not gonna lie this really isn’t how I envisioned my first time going…”

“If you didn’t look so exhausted I’d suggest still making it worthwhile,” Jungkook gave you a wink making your lips twist slightly as you ran a hand through your hair as you glanced away from him. You set yourself up for that one and honestly, you might’ve took him up on that offer had he not been right. You were utterly drained and you were sure you probably looked anything but sexy at the moment. 

The interior of the house was simplistic by nature but was in good taste, the sleek black coffee table complimented by a gray couch and two chairs, a large flat screen hung up on the wall beneath the second coffee table and that’s where your eyes honed in on what looked like a custom built PS4, personalized controllers and all. 

Walking down the hall Jungkook opened the first door on the left as he spoke up, “This is the spare room, the bathroom is up the hall on the right and my rooms all the way down to the left if you need something. Is there anything I can get you…?” 

You peaked behind him inside the room before giving it a thought, tugging at your shirt before awkwardly glancing towards your feet, “W-well….um….If you have a shirt or- maybe- uh maybe a hoodie I could barrow to sleep in…” Why were you acting so weird? You had bummed clothes off of Hoseok and Taehyung constantly, this really wasn’t different, right?

Jungkook nodded before disappearing down the hall as you walked into the room. It was bigger than your kitchen- then again, a lot of places were bigger than your kitchen but still. It was a nice sized room with a queen size bed neatly made, a fluffy cream duvet and a dozen pillows to pick from to sleep on. Stepping up to the bed you let your hand run over the material as you closed your eyes.

You were seriously at a billionaires house to avoid abduction. God you hated life.

“Here,” You jumped at the sound of Jungkook’s voice, turning around just as he walked in a folded black hoodie in hand as he gave it to you, “It gets a little drafty in here at night. There should be extra oral care in the bathroom. I guess that’s everything, anyways I’ll let you rest now.”

It was silent for before you nodded vigorously, “Uh yeah thanks, night.” 

He gave a nod in return, looking a little hesitant to leave before letting himself return to his room. Sighing you ran a hand through your hair before shutting the door gently, taking another look around the room before grabbing your phone,

If you rolled your eyes any harder they’d definitely be in the back of your head by now. Leave it up to Hoseok to be the first in line to clown you. Pulling the sweatshirt on while giving a long yawn, you could smell both the expensive Tide Bounty and Jungkook's cologne, which both on their own smelled nice until mixed together. Still, it gave you a sense of odd comfort though as you crawled into bed letting yourself relax against the sheets.

You were beyond tired and glad to be in bed, and yet you still didn’t get a drop of sleep that night.

Morning light streamed through the blinds and yet here you were, already awake with dark circles most likely dawning your undereyes. It hurt to blink and you didn’t have the energy to get out of bed, and yet no matter how long you kept them closed, you couldn’t sleep. 

Checking your phone you groaned at the sight of so many messages, quickly you closed your phone again as you dropped your head back on the pillow. You could only hope Jungkook was awake by now and had gotten a hold of his mother to ease everyone’s panic about you never arriving home. 

A knock at the door sounded as if hearing your thought, echoing lightly through the room and for a moment you couldn’t find the strength to speak up, making the only other person in the house attempt to coax you, “Hey, are you awake?”

Sighing you debated your options, you could just not respond and he’d probably go away but you’d have to come out eventually and your stomach was growling in hopes you’d get some food, “Yeah.” You called back dryly.

Hearing the door open finally stirred some energy into you as you slowly sat up in bed, rubbing your tired eyes as Jungkook stepped inside, his hair was messy and he seemed a bit tired if not sleepy, but over all a lot more well rested then you as he spoke, “Figured we should get started on discussing the terms of where you’ll stay. I just finished talking to my mom, she’s already doing damage control as we speak so,” He pushed his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants, walking up to the bed before sitting down on the edge a little ways from you, “Like I said before, personally I’d be most comfortable if you were here with me but there’s plenty of other options. I could always rent out a floor from an apartment building for you, make sure there’s plenty of security or you could stay in Dark Ace, it’s almost impenetrable.”

“That seems like a lot of effort…” You murmured, running a hand through your hair, your locks stringy with oil and undoubtedly looking gross. Dark Ace was all the way across Seoul and you honestly didn’t want to be that far away from everyone you knew. On the other hand you weren’t sure you felt comfortable in a whole floor of an apartment building, and furthermore, you wouldn’t feel that safe. 

You knew Jungkook wouldn’t put you somewhere he wasn’t one hundred percent certain you’d be safe, given how serious he was taking this, but still. You could stay with him...but you didn’t feel like that was a good idea either, too much had happened and right now you needed to just regain focus on gaining trust with each other again. 

“It really isn’t Y/n,” Jungkook replied, leaning back against his hands as he kept his gaze steadily on you, “I received a call from a contact when I first woke, this shouldn’t last but another week or two, so if you want…” He licked his lips, taking a second to think it over before continuing, “There is another option, my mom has a lodge not too far from here. It’ll be easy keeping it under heavy security and you’ll still be in range for me to check in on you, you’ll be able to go to work with ease all while doing it safely.”

“Your mom…?” You asked a little hesitant, you liked the idea but you didn’t want to invade his mothers private space, especially if she had any idea of what you and Jungkook had been up to as of late, “I don’t know...I don’t want to overstep my bounds with your family.”

Jungkook quickly shook his head, “You won’t, she only goes on the occasion things get heated at home, I bought it for her awhile back but she doesn’t live there full time.”

You thought about it for a moment, biting your lip a little in contemplation. If he was being honest, and she really wouldn’t be there…and if you’d still be able to go to work and reassure your mom then...”Well, I mean...If you’re sure it’ll be fine…”

“It will,” Jungkook nodded determined, noticing him scooting closer making you feel a bit on edge, shifting in your seated position, “Is that where you wanna stay?” 

It really wasn't, but out of all of your options this seemed like the best one. You’d be able to stay by yourself, you wouldn’t have your space invaded by anyone and you’d still be able to at least go to your day job. Sighing after a moment of contemplation you nodded, “Yes...Oh um…” You glanced away for a moment, your face flushing at the thought before you rubbed your neck, “Can I stop by my apartment before going there though…” 

Jungkook looked a little confused by your request but nodded regardless, “Of course, we can go now if you want. I’ve cancelled my schedule for the morning and won't have to be in office until after 12.”

Pulling the covers off your legs you nodded, wanting to get this out of the way before doing anything else for the day. After you both had showered and finished getting ready you had headed off for your apartment. The silence stayed except for the occasional remark from Jungkook and snide reply from you. Though thankfully unlike most people in your life he didn’t take it to heart.

“So...what do you need from your apartment- if you don’t mind me asking.” Jungkook spoke up, pulling the car into the lot. You both had got out of the car, shutting the door you scanned over the building as you inhaled, the hot, humid air breaching you lungs but it was fresh nonetheless.

Nodding your head towards the building you lead the way before walking up the metal stairs, making your way to the third floor, “Well it wouldn’t hurt to get some clothes and I really need to get Twix somewhere safe…”

Reaching the third story you paused waiting for Jungkook who stopped half way up the last flight of stairs,”...Twix…?” He said it in the most confused tone you had ever heard as if what you said was in a foreign language.

Pressing your brows together you both store at each other briefly like you were in a silent, confused standoff before you squint your eyes, “My cat…?”

Jungkook continued up the stairs before finally standing in front of you, “You...named your cat ...Twix?” Had he even owned an animal his entire life? He didn’t look judgmental...well maybe a little bit but Twix was your pride, he was the little ball of fluff that had brightened your day since you were a kid. He was an old boy and loved cuddles and enjoyed waking you up from the little sleep you got for a midnight snack.

“Twix is my baby push off.” You glared childishly as you turned around walking to the door before giving it a gentle push, and as if the devil himself had heard, Twix came bolting out with a loud cry before brushing against your leg with another shrilled meow, “Poor baby, I’m sorry I’ve left you here.” You cooed out picking up the brown and black mottled cat as you nuzzled against his head. 

You could feel the vibration of his loud purr before a sudden hiss, popping your head away from the cat you furrowed your brows before glancing towards Jungkook who had his jaw dropped as if offended. Him and Twix both seemed to be having a standoff as Twix gave a low growl making your own lips part, “Wow, he’s never done that before…” Sure when he was feral he had hissed at you plenty of times, but since being tame he’d rarely ever hiss at another person. 

He gave another hiss, his ears laid back against his head before jumping out of your arms and scurrying back inside. Clacking your tongue you gave a hum, “First for everything I guess…”

Jungkook made no comment though, crossing his arms with a childish broody expression that made you roll your eyes as you pushed the door fully open, walking inside.

 “Damn…” Jungkook sighed, his eyes softening a little at the wrecked sight of everything, just as destroyed as you had last seen it, “They really did sweep the whole place. I’ll make sure everything is replaced.” 

Walking up the crushed boat painting you thought was such a good steal when you bought it you sighed, kneeling down as you picked it up, a hole punctured the canvas, “It’s fine, most of this was just thrift store finds anyways….” You trailed off but you knew your voice held a depressed note. 

Coming here depressed you more than anything now, being unable to do anything or clean it up for now leaving you empty and hollow at all the memories of everything you once bought from excitement at it’s cheap cost or obscurity of where you found it. 

Damn you didn’t think you were sentimental but just coming back made you feel a wash of remorse all over again, “Anyways, i’ll be right back, shouldn’t take long to get a few sets of clothes.”

Jungkook gave a single nod eyes scanning through the room as you made your way back down the hall. You had grabbed the duffle bag from your closet, picking through things that had been strode all over the floor while stuffing it into the bag, not seeing a reason in folding anything as you’d most likely dump this all in the wash once you got into the lodge. 

You had just finished packing when you heard your phone go off. Confused as to who could be texting you at this hour before checking.

Sighing you stayed seated by your bag as you ran a hand through your hair, it was already 11:30 and you wouldn’t have much time to get ready but thankfully you never took long to begin with. The person who had caught your attention, was of course Jimin. He had seemed very defensive and for someone who didn’t care about you….he sounded like he cared, a lot. You felt conflicted but still held onto your words, he didn’t deserve to know where you were and he was a total dickhead. Until he actually proved he wasn’t you weren’t going to budge. 

You supposed, this just meant your vacation was finally beginning to wear off and you had started to use your head more than your vagina again.

Standing up you grabbed the bag before walking out to Jungkook who had been investigating down by the TV, “Hey you don’t have to go into work until after lunch right?” He glanced up before straightening himself nodding making you continue, “Then once we get this stuff dropped off you mind dropping me off over at central station? I’m going out with your and my mom for a wedding venue hunt.”

“Of course,” Jungkook nodded, walking over grabbing the dufflebag from you as you called out for Twix, the cat darting to your legs with a meow, probably hungry no doubt making you feel a tad bit guilty for not picking him up sooner. Grabbing the ball of fluff you both went back to his car before heading towards the lodge. 

The lodge was a fair bit fancier than Jungkook’s place it was gated and guarded with men on standby outside, but it only took one look when Jungkook rolled down his window for the men to wave him on in. It looked more like a prison than a house but you supposed if things really were that dire then this was probably necessary. 

After setting your things down in the lodge you noticed the colors were in warm tones of reds and earthy browns, the furniture was clad in white and furs tying everything together, it had felt like a total one eighty compared to its outside appearance.  At the very least you were glad it had such a homey feeling if you’d be staying here for any longer than anticipated.

“Oh this is such a nice space!” Your mother was the first to exclaim as she did a one eighty around herself, the space was admittedly large and completely empty, but the large windows on the left and right walls were massive and let in a beautiful stream of light, “It wouldn be beautiful for the wedding but it wouldn’t be very traditional.” Your mother frowned slightly at the idea as she turned around to look towards you.

Shrugging you pushing your hands into the pockets of the dark brown leather jacket you wore, “Traditional no but that isn’t a bad thing, people have tons of beach or outdoor weddings and they’re all fine. You could still get a priest or pastor to do the vows. I mean if you really like this venue then it shouldn’t matter whether it’s in a church or not.” You didn’t see the hang up but then again you also never grew up on the traditions your mother held so high in standard.

Soo Yun nodded encouragingly as well though as she smiled, “Y/n is right Emi, if this is the place you want your wedding then you shouldn’t let formalities hold you back.”

Your mom only laced her fingers together before holding them close to her chin, the same way you did when you became bashful around others, “Oh I don’t know...I’ll have to ask Seung and see what he thinks.” 

It was a fair answer. Apparently the wedding was being aimed for around the next month and for the first time, you weren’t surprised by their words. If Jimin was correct, and they had already known each other for a year of course they’d want a quick wedding to go. It was supposed to be small and intimate with just a few people. 

Your mother had also said given they had both been previously married neither one felt the need to make it a huge deal. Maybe it was from the whiplash of the day before but you honestly felt too exhausted to input any more emotional feedback outside of a ‘cool’.

Maybe you were finally accepting it? Or maybe everything with Jungkook had just been at the forefront of your mind, whatever it was. You were thankful to not be in a state of chaos anymore, for the moment at least.

After parting ways with Soo Yun, who you wondered briefly if you’d be getting acquainted with her. You’d be staying in her home after all, she brought you a sense of comfort though. Or maybe all moms had that energy, regardless, the day went by fast and you weren’t going to complain. Your mom insisted on taking you for dinner which for once, you weren’t opposed to doing.

There was a catch though, the catch being Seung was there- and that was fine. You didn’t have a problem with Seung, it was Jimin who sat brooding at the table that made you visibly strain to not roll your eyes to the back of your head. Clearly he was still angry over your text conversation but it wasn’t your fault, had he not been a dick earlier that week you would’ve gladly told him you had stopped by your apartment. 

“If you love the location that’s all that matters Emi.” Seung had spoke up enthusiastically bringing your attention to the conversation that your mother was still fretting over, “I don’t mind us not having it in a church but….” He cleared his throat a little, giving her an expression that didn’t make any sense, “Sense we’re all together would you like to bring up what we were discussing earlier.”

Both you and Jimin had straightened up slightly, as your mom’s pupils widened a little before nodding, looking and bit reserved now as she also cleared her throat, “Of course! We understand that this is moving very fast for the both of you…” She trailed off a little, unsure of herself as she glanced at her lap. 

“And we appreciate both of your support in our choice to be together. Both me and Emi would be honored if you’d be the Maid of honor and Best man for the wedding.” Seung spoke up, quickly taking note of your mothers docile expression, a smile pulling on his lips as he glanced between the both of you to gauge a reaction. 

Glancing down at your plate you shrugged, “Yeah sure.” You saw that one coming too honestly, at least you were out of the thick of emotions now. Jimin seemed a whole lot more tense then you as he nodded though, saying nothing before resuming eating. 

What was his problem? He was the one who had been initially okay with this, why the sudden change of heart? Dinner had continued peacefully and it wasn’t until the end that, after a little bit of insistence you got your mom to be okay with leaving you to go back to the estate.

Jungkook had sent you a text saying he’d send a car for you to be picked up in just a half hour ago and now sitting at the table you realized it was just you and Jimin. Who was also brooding on his phone. 

“Are you done being broody or…?” You had cracked the joke was a dumb smile which only widened when his harsh gaze cut into your figure as if hoping it would incinerate you on contact. 

Jimin’s jaw clenched further and he shifted in his seat before sinking into it further while snapping, “Do you think this is a fucking game Y/n? You had everyone worried to death.” 

Shrugging you picked at your nails not looking too interested before replying, “Yeah but I’m pretty sure you don’t care so…?” 

“I don’t.” It came out rigid and sharp, plucking his champagne class up as he took a swift drink of the bubbly substance. 

The sight only made you clack your tongue though as you gave a hum, “Y’know, for someone who doesn’t care, you sure do keep harassing me about shit that shouldn’t matter. You know, it’s okay to just admit that maybe, you do care after all?”

You shrugged keeping a cool head while his looked ready to explode, he suddenly stood up right, face twisting into a snarl as he replied, “You fucking wish L/n, I know you want to desperately think you’re something special but you aren’t.” 

It was a good thing you had finally checked out emotionally or else you might’ve actually been hurt by his words, instead you just leaned back in your chair shrugging which make his jaw clench harsher, “Yeah sure, you keep telling yourself that Park.”

And just like that, you made him storm out of the restaurant looking ready to kill and hey, maybe he was. But just as you had been told earlier, no matter how much Jimin wanted to be involved in the unknown. He’d just have to suffer the curiosity and maybe come to acceptance with your entrance in his life meanwhile.

Note: I’m sorry it took me so long too update !! I finished Sunday but ended up becoming busy sense then :( BUT next chapter thoooo holyyy shit i bid u guys good luck 

Taglist: @sapphireprinces5 @jazzytfw @theslumberingcat @mrsfandomz @cainami @nininek12 @loveherpersona @expensive-bangtan-girl @yoongnysus @sugajinny @peachy-bhun @brokencrownqueen @veryuniquenamegoeshere @lovethatforme97 @prisczero 

(Let me know if you’d like to be added!)

[team-science-mega-nerds]

Fictober Prompt #19: “Yes, I admit it, you were right.” 

Fandom: Supergirl

Pairing: Danvarias

Warnings: Minor mentions of drug use

Thirteen miles from a bustling city with a designer landscape, quaint eateries, and a baseball team that nearly became the pride of Ohio is a rural blip on the map that is better left ignored. Duntown, which the residents resentfully call Doomstown, is a place that makes you reckon with reality. Ramshackle churches and hate crimes that people struggle to name, the folks of this city fear everything they do not know. For most that means outsiders. They turn up their noses and yell out the windows of their pick-up trucks. Go back where you came from! For some, their greatest fear is the only thing they’ve ever known - church. They drag themselves to Sunday service, seeking forgiveness for the things they cannot control. 

The two most popular places in Duntown are a local bar that serves stale beer and moonshine - if you know how to ask just right - and a weekly flea market that sets up in the parking lot of the local high school. Tents and tables are propped up around potholes that will never be fixed and people banter and barter their mundane little lives away. 

The biggest plight of the city takes everyone by surprise. It happens so fast that people struggle to make time between work - at a fading steel mill - and Sunday’s services to figure out exactly what’s going on. It’s a funeral of all things that sparks the interest of the collective town. Watching their children play in a field that they will probably never grow out of and eating bologna sandwiches and salad that’s nothing but iceberg lettuce and croutons, Sam’s entire life changes. 

“Went to water my plants this morning. That darn water,” Deborah says shaking her head, “looked like someone done pissed in it.” It’s the way she says it, all bite and resolute, apprehension comes to a head. That’s what catches Sam’s attention. It seems like just another thing to fear, another thorn in her side. Sam’s eyes go to Ruby, she’s laughing and playing tag with her friends. Ruby’s at that age where youth slowly starts to crumble and she’ll become aware of the world around her. 

Sam can see Tuffy and John sitting near a makeshift shrine of Kevin. They drink and drink, saluting their dead friend who perished on a normal workday at the mill. To date, Sam had been to seven funerals of people she’d known from high school. They all died in the same place, all had funerals presided over by the same poverty-stricken mourners, and all had after funeral receptions just like this. Tuffy and John smoked meth behind Mrs. Ainsley’s - Kevin’s mother - car. And all this was normal. All this met Sam’s expectations. 

Water that she had to boil before drinking did not. 

Deborah had made the comment about the drinking water six months ago and now, Sam seemed to be the only one brave enough to do something about it. Her bravery was, in fact, an accident. She’d been weaving in and out of her trailer home, trying to carry all of the groceries that she’d purchased at Costco six towns over. Ruby was supposed to be taking a bath and then going right to bed, Sam didn’t want to argue about it. Not today. 

It’d been a long road, getting where they are now. Borrowing from people she despised, working extra shifts at the grocery store, and relying on nosy neighbors to babysit. Sam, you’re a pretty girl. They’ve got some good men at the mill. She’d got a daily reminder of just how cute she was by handsy men, most of whom would go on to live and die at that very mill. Now that Sam and Ruby had a place of their own, things were starting to look up. “Mom. Mom!” Sam grabs four bags at once and rushes inside. She dumps the bags and throws the bathroom door open. 

“Oh, Rubes,” It’s a rash, tiny and probably inconsequential, but Sam has promised herself to always put Ruby first. Yellow water that has been slowly turning brown for months, and a rash, are enough to get Sam to make a call. 

The call itself goes terribly. She doesn’t know who to ask for or how to ask for what she wants. The secretary on the other end uses big words that feel suffocating. All Sam wants is to be safe. “Do you understand? I need you to send someone who can help us feel safe.” Sam feels like she blew it the moment she hangs up. She deeply considers moving. The cost is far outside of her reach but if she asks the right people and is willing to speak to her mother again, then she can make it happen. 

“Someone sent you an email!” Bernice, who everyone just calls Bezza, yells from where she’s seated in front of her trailer. Rocking and knitting like always. Sam approaches with Ruby at her side. “Remember when you showed me how to use the ‘Gmail’? Well, I guess your account is still up. The noise that email made, scared me to hell and back.”

“Who’s it from?” Sam can’t remember the last time she’d gotten an email that wasn’t about her missing a bill. 

“Some law firm.” Sam nearly trips on herself as she runs into Bezza’s trailer. She pushes past mounds of newspapers and boxes of old junk and finds her desktop computer. Sam bites her nails while she waits for the computer to wake up. She listens to Bezza tell Ruby about all of her fantastic finds at the flea market that week. Sam feels nauseous. 

When she finally manages to get to her email, Sam has to rifle through a bunch of spam and late fee notices to get to an email from Danvers & Danvers Law Offices: 

Dear Ms. Arias, 

I’ve received some initial information about Duntown and I am concerned about the lack of progress being made on behalf of your town. I’d like to come and talk to you sometime within the next few weeks. Please send me a list of dates and times that you are available to meet and we will work something out.

Alex Danvers LL.M. 

Sam rereads the email five times before typing out her response. She’s embarrassed that she’s only free to meet after eight most days, but she leaves room for other suggestions like a phone call. She sends the email and immediately gets a response. They’ll meet at The Tipsy Cow at 8:30 the following day. “Mom, you took like fifty years,” Ruby, who is far too aware and mature for a nine-year-old, says as they walk back to their trailer. “Bezza smells like mothballs.” Ruby hops up the steps one by one and they enter and both go in search of something that will pass for dinner. 

“I had to answer an email,” Sam explains. “Don’t comment on how people smell unless it’s nice.” 

“I like moths.” Ruby finds an apple in the fridge and munches on that while Sam gets to work on Hamburger Helper. “Who emailed? Delany’s mom got a new boyfriend. They went to Chicago for the weekend.” Sam wishes she could tell Ruby that Delany’s mom’s new boyfriend is an alcoholic who has questionable world views. Instead, she remains silent. “Can we go to Chicago?” 

“Someday.”

“There’s a giant bean there!” Ruby gets lost in an old Almanac, Sam starts to think that she’s made a grave mistake. Big corporations don’t take too kindly to meddling women. Sam’s a nobody, she knows that and what kind of lawyer travels all the way from National City just to talk? If Sam had a computer of her own, she’d email this Alex Danvers right now, and tell him to forget it. But dinner and bedtime stories get in the way of those thoughts. 

Sam is hunkered down at work just enough to forget all about it until it’s six-thirty and Ruby is asking why she has to stay at Deborah’s house that night. “I have to meet someone and I don’t know how long it’ll take. You like Deborah.”

“I like you more,” Ruby tells her pouting and sulking the whole walk over. The minute they arrive at the ranch house, Ruby sees Scout, an Australian Shepherd mix, and she forgets all of her misgivings. 

“Everything alright?” Deborah asks as they both watch Ruby, and her oversized backpack, bouncing around the yard. “You finally meeting someone?”

“A lawyer. Just to talk about the water situation.”

Deborah turns very serious. “You be careful now,” She warns, echoing the same tone that Sam’s mother had when she told her about this last night. Sam kisses Ruby goodbye and returns home to change into something more presentable. She settles for a turquoise shift dress and white platform sandals. The bar is close which is good for most people in the trailer community but terrible for Sam. On more than one occasion, there have been fights that have broken out right outside of Sam’s window. For now, she considers it a good thing that she lives so close, otherwise, she might have been late. 

The Tipsy Cow represents all the good and bad of the town. Everyone certainly knows everyone but that means that things often boil over and get heated in these very walls. Sam normally wouldn’t be caught dead alone in this place but it’s 8:30 and she doesn’t think she’ll have to wait long. 

Unless this big city lawyer is late. 

Sam orders a club soda and finds a booth in the back. They’ll need a quiet place to talk and there are too many mill workers crowding the bar and watching some baseball game that Sam could care less about. There’s a little bit of a lull, which Sam hardly notices until one of the mill workers barks - yes, barks - at a woman who’s just entered the bar. That kind of ruckus signals outsider, so Sam lifts her head to see what’s going on. The woman is wearing a grandad collar white button-up, mid-wash blue jeans, and a blazer that could probably pay off Sam’s mortgage. The briefcase is the thing that catches Sam’s attention the most. 

Oh, she sits up properly, Alex Danvers is a woman. 

Alex doesn’t notice Sam just yet. She checks her expensive watch, mutters fuck, and orders something from the bar. When Sam sees the bartender going for the tap, Sam rises to her feet and approaches. “I’d advise against that.” Alex turns looks between Sam and the bartender and taps her head as if to say ‘duh’. 

“Long drive. The brain’s on autopilot.” Alex motions to the bartender. “I’ll take a soda.” 

“We say pop around here,” Sam informs the lawyer. Once Alex has her soda, she follows Sam to the booth, and extends her hand. “So, you’re Alex.”

“Yep. And you’re Sam?”

“Yes.” Sam sits first. Alex slides her briefcase into the seat across from Sam and takes off her blazer before sitting. 

“Am I late?”

“Only by a few minutes.” Sam smiles. “I see you got a good Doomstown welcome,”

“Doomstown?”

“This place. It’s a nickname of sorts.” Alex frowns. 

“Doesn’t look doomed from where I’m sitting.” Sam toys with her straw trying not to get distracted by Alex placing her briefcase on the table. Alex pulls out a few documents and sets them on the table. “I’ve been doing a lot of reading. Coores & Phillips Company seems to be the main corp involved. They have the proper ordinances to drill in Cook and Favors county, but as you know, they’ve been drilling near the border here.” Alex goes to take a drink of her soda, but Sam reaches forward and grabs the glass first. “What?” 

“Don’t drink that.” 

“What’s wrong with it?” 

“The bartender put moonshine in that.” Sam quickly lets go of the glass when she realizes that their fingers are touching. Alex laughs, uncomfortably, at the very suggestion that she’d get her drink spiked. “I’m serious.” 

“I can handle my liquor.”

“Don’t be...stupid. We’ve got no-joke moonshine out here.” There’s a competitive drive in Alex. Sam imagines that makes for some magic in the courtroom. “Those papers can tell you plenty but not enough. This place isn’t some cute little town that needs big city saving. It’s been six months, soon people are going to start fighting back.” 

“And how would they? Fight back I mean.” 

“You see those guys?” Sam nods toward the men at the bar, cheering for a homerun. “When they’re not working, they’re drinking. And if they’re drinking and on crank, then guns get involved.”

“We’ll need a town hall meeting. Something to show everyone that the problems are being addressed.” Alex takes a sip of her drink and grimaces. “We did a case in Texas two years ago. A nice settlement too.” 

“How much were the lawyer fees?”

Alex shakes her head. “No, no, nothing like that. This is pro-bono-.”

“I’ll pay. We’ll scrape money together. I’m not a charity case.” Alex seems to recognize Sam’s seriousness, so she lets it go in favor of mulling something over in her mind. 

“Show me.” 

“Show you...what?” 

“This town. Show me what I’m missing.” Alex pays for their drinks and manages to polish off the rest of her soda before following Sam out of the bar. They get another bark on their way to Alex’s car, Sam turns sharply. 

“Fuck off!” She warns. She’s seen these guys before. Heard their poor pickup lines. She won’t let them bully what might be their saving grace. 

“Oh, mommy’s pissed,” One of them says as Alex unlocks her car. Alex looks like she might say something, but Sam grabs her arm and continues to pull her along. When they’re in Alex’s SUV, which is a black Porsche Cayenne, Alex looks over at her sympathetically. 

“You have a kid?” 

“A daughter.” Alex will probably ask more but for now, she drives out of the parking lot and down the road. “Nice car.”

“Thanks,” Alex says a slight smile on her face. 

“I was being sarcastic, you can’t drive this thing around.” Sam points to her trailer which is only a block away. “You need to pull over there. You can park by my place.” Alex follows directions well but seems less than eager when they get out of the car and start walking. “Don’t worry.” 

“I’m not worried,” Alex lies. They approach the church. Sam hasn’t stepped foot in there in four years and counting. Alex seems to acknowledge her jitters by slowing near the front door. “This the kind of place for you?”

“Girls like me avoid places like that,” Sam tells her. “Didn’t always. Things change.” The streets are quiet on the weeknights. The further you get from the bar, the easier it is to forget what kind of town this is. Sam glances up at the sky, the pollution from the mill has changed the whole world from Sam’s perspective. She doesn’t want Ruby growing up in a place without stars and with rusty water. “You shouldn’t take this case.”

“Why not?”

“I saw the way you looked at those guys. Like you wanted to say something or fight.” Sam stops Alex before they reach the long pathway that leads to the mill. “But you didn’t.”

“I would’ve. Easily. You don’t know me.” Alex sticks her hands in her pockets. “My mom would say that this is a lost cause. That we’ll get buried under big corporate lawyers, but our firm is solid. We’ll get you paid-.”

“If you think any of this is about money, then you don’t understand.”

“I do understand.” Alex touches the small of Sam’s back. She isn’t certain what to make of the gesture but she’ll remember it in case things take a turn for the worst. “Whoa.” Alex bends over with her hands on her knees. “Fuck.”

“What?”

“That moonshine.”

“Oh,” Sam laughs. “Yeah, it takes a bit to bite you like that.” Sam wraps her arm under Alex’s shoulder and guides her back down the road. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I could just use some water, which...I recognize is a problem.” 

“I have bottled water at home.” Even though they’re strangers, Sam feels comfortable enough with Alex to invite her into her trailer. For one, there’s nothing worth stealing in the place. And two, Alex has just decided to put so much on the line to help out. Sam wishes she’d cleaned up more. Or maybe folded up her couch so it would look like there was more space but Alex seems mainly focused on water, so Sam buries her shame. 

“Thanks,” Alex mumbles as she leans against the counter and downs half the bottle. Sam tries not to stare when Alex untucks her shirt and looks around the modest kitchen. 

“I told you not to drink that shit.”

“Okay, yes, I admit it. You were right.” Alex shrugs it off. Sam sits at the tiny wooden table and starts unlatching her sandals. When she’s finished and looks back up at Alex, she’s struck by the fact that Alex’s eyes are already on her. Like she’d been watching her. “Um...I’ll go. You have your kid and everything-.”

“She’s staying at a friend’s place.” Sam doesn’t know why she jumps in to say that but she does know that everything has a cost. If Alex wasn’t accepting payment from her, then she must want something. Sam takes a chance, a small one, and stands shoulder to shoulder with Alex. She’s been here before, giving recklessly. Never with Ruby around but there were times where desperation took hold. “I could repay you…” Sam has never had to say much to anyone, just show casual interest and they would find a way to take control. 

Alex is different, Sam learns right away, taking a step away and putting her water bottle down. “You’re a good person, Sam. I am too.” Alex lets out a breath. “We can work together, can’t we? Probably better when I’m not this drunk.” 

“I wasn’t…” Sam shakes her head. “In this place, things sometimes get warped.”

“It’s okay,” Alex says sincerely. “And in honor of us understanding each other. Would it be possible for me to sleep here tonight? On the couch, on the floor...whichever.” 

“Of course you can.” By the time Sam has gathered a pillow and blanket from the closet, Alex is already snoring softly on the couch. Sam covers her with a blanket, locks the doors, and goes into her own bedroom. Outside of feeling embarrassed by basically offering sex as payment, Sam is remarkably thrilled with her day. Even in her tiny room that often makes her feel like a child, Sam is floored by the possibilities that the future brings. 

Doomstown might not be doomed quite yet and if the fight that Sam has seen crop up in Alex’s eyes is any indication, they might actually have a chance. Sam doesn’t like to get her hopes up. She kneels at her bedside, crosses herself, and prays for the first time since she was in high school. She wants to be safe and for once, someone understands that. 

When she wakes up, Sam finds Deborah and Ruby in the kitchen. They’re both eating cereal and Deborah is boiling the water for the coffee maker. Neither seems all that phased, especially Ruby who points to the other room with her spoon, “Who’s that in there?”

“That’s Alex, she’s a lawyer.” Deborah arches a brow at Sam. Sam peeks into the room and finds Alex exactly where she left her. 

“What’s she doing here?” Ruby whispers as she looks over the couch at Alex. 

“She’s going to help us get clean water.”

“Really?!” Ruby yells. She bolts to where she can get face to face with Alex whose eyes open slowly. She has to blink a few times to remember where she is but when she does she smiles at Ruby and says ‘hi’. “You’re gonna help us?”

Alex looks to Sam and then sits up a little. “Yeah, I’m gonna help you.” On their way to check to see if Alex’s car got stolen Alex observes the town in the light of day. Bezza is rocking away in her chair. The hazy overcast does nothing to deter Alex’s smile. Even shouting from inside a trailer doesn’t seem to frighten her. “I like it here,” Alex tells Sam.

“Really?”

“I like the people at least.” 

The next time Alex Danvers comes into town, it’s to rent an entire building out for her team. They parade in with their fancy cars and nice suits but they immediately get to work. The drilling ceases for a week and after what seems like a standoff - marked by a lot of yelling in and outside of town hall - Alex takes the Coores & Phillips Company to court. The win comes suddenly, after months and months of proceedings. The big corporation senses the uneasiness and after a few men from the mill, high on meth, blow up a drill, it’s fairly obvious that this is a war they won’t win. Alex knocks at Sam’s door, sweaty from jogging over to this side of town, she is elated and Sam knows that finally, everything is right in their little burden of a town. 

Two weeks later, while Ruby, Deborah, and Bezza are playing cards, Sam announces that she’s going to take a shower. Alex looks up from where she’s seated, after losing in the very first round, and follows Sam into the hallway. “Don’t make me get a restraining order,” Sam jokes. 

“This is actually...about that night.” 

“I’ve known you for about a year. There’s been plenty of nights.” The hallway is barely a hallway. Just a sliver of space that leaves only a few inches between their bodies. 

“The first one.” Alex rolls her eyes, knowing that Sam will wait until she says exactly what she means. “We could’ve, you know. Ended up in bed together.”

“You wouldn’t have been very good. From what I remember you were all valiance and moonshine.” 

“That stuff was so strong, I might still be all moonshine.” Alex puts her hand on Sam’s waist, it’s the most direct she’s ever been with something outside of the courtroom. “I’d like to try again. Properly, I mean.”

“That’s sweet.”

“You aren’t interested?” Alex questions sadly. 

“I am interested. But more so in you joining me for a shower.” Sam holds Alex’s face in her hands and smiles. “Show me you belong in this crazy little town. Show me what you’re made of.” 

“We can hear everything you’re saying!” Deborah yells from the kitchen. Alex and Sam crack up laughing, hustling into the bathroom, and taking off their clothes.

[sprydecreates]

wedding bells

requested by: no one :)

warnings: angst (break up), language

pairings: shawn mendes x reader

type: headcanon/list; gender neutral (doesn’t use any pronouns)

summary: after a brutal break up, shawn is there to pick you up, and then some.

a/n: i know.... i keep weaving in and out of tumblr...... oh well. had this idea in mind and i really liked it. hope it’s not too bad ♡

flash back friday

you and shawn met in elementary school due to a school project called flat stanley, where you send a little paper character to someone you know and have them take stanley through their lives for a bit.

your family knew shawn’s, and so you two were introduced for the first time.

since you two were kids, you didn’t really have a way to keep in contact with each other.

good thing for you, you two were reunited in middle school, when shawn’s family came in for a visit.

finally, you two were able to keep in contact, and you remained good friends until high school.

until meaning, you didn’t have anyone to bring to prom, and you invited shawn

which, of course, caused a whole cliche like “he saw me walk down the stairs and fell in love”, but deadass. like that’s really what happened. boy seen you all pampered and dressed up, and did the whole “..wow” with the little heart eyes and had that little blushy patch shining through

soon after, he asked how you felt about long distance relationships while on facetime.

hoping he’d take the hint, you said “there’s really only one person i’d see myself with that’s far away” and take him through a “well he’s like eight feet tall, has brown hair and brown eyes, kinda sarcastic but will cry if he thinks he hurt someones feelings, shall i go on?” 

and hes OblIviOus right. genuinely thinks you’re talking about some celeb you’ve stanned for a couple of months. so he’s just like “uh, if you want. you seem happy about him, so i’m glad you’re happy”

and you pull a “yeah, you do make me happy”

WHEW BOEH

this sweetie raises his eyebrows and widens his eyes, Finally realizing you’re going on about him, and he’s like, “huh..?”

“did you seriously think i wouldn’t notice you rubbing little hearts into the back of my hand on the way to prom?”

“i mean yeah but that’s on my side, i didn’t realize that you liked me back??”

“i was sure you’d take the hint when i said i’d love to have a boyfriend like you”

“y/n you Know how bad i am at taking hints”

“yeah, i know, now.”

and that started the talking phase, which only lasted Maybe a month and a half before you two started dating.

you and shawn dated from senior year up until freshman year of college.

you stayed in your own state because of the in-state tuition, and shawn stayed in canada to be closer to his family

because you two were now considered to be in the ‘real world’ and actually had to fend for your own in a sense, you two became super busy, and rarely got a chance to speak to each other.

this eventually lead to you two breaking up, as you couldn’t keep up with each other at this speed, and distance.

you both agreed to give each other some air, and continue talking when the other had enough time to heal.

but, out of fear that the other hadn’t had enough time to get themselves together, neither of you contacted the other and the friendship fell through.

present time

two years have passed, and you are now in a relationship with your fiance.

yes, you read that right. f i a n c e.

you didn’t necessarily think it’d happen, either.

after your friendship with shawn fell through, you downloaded tinder, and matched with (y/f/n). you decided “eh, why not” and now you’re here.

you didn’t really even want to marry this dude this fast, but he brought you to a popular and packed, expensive restaurant with his entire immediate family, and popped the question while using a microphone. how fun, totally not anxiety driven and absolutely not embarrassing :)

but, since shawn, you were having doubts of finding someone else. so, this was like a last shot for you, in a sense.

but, here you are, and it’s about four months from the wedding date.

nothing is written in stone, apart from the venue

you were going through your contacts, finding out who you were going to invite.

down the line, shawn popped up.

what were you going to do now?

you wanted to invite shawn because, hello, he had been apart of your life since  e l e m e n t a r y  s c h o o l. you couldn’t just marry someone and ten years down the road bring it up like “hey yea sorry about not inviting you :/ thought it’d be awkward ://////”

but then again, your fiance was well aware of your history with shawn. it’s not like he was going to leave you at the alter if shawn came, but you were still a bit iffy considering (y/f/n) is a little insecure when it comes to you talking to other guys.

despite feeling off about you, you decided to message shawn anyway, and inform him of whats going on

2:43 PM: “hey shawn!”

2:51 PM: “(Y/n)?”

2:53 PM: “yeah?”

2:57 PM: “Hey! I was just making sure this was still your number. I didn’t have it deleted on purpose, just got a new phone about two months ago.”

3:04 PM: “no problem, sorry we haven’t talked in a bit. how are you?”

3:10 PM: “Pretty good, how are you?”

3:13 PM: “i’m doing well, i actually just got engaged not too long ago!”

3:35 PM: “Oh, yeah, I noticed that. Congrats”

3:40 PM: “:( you okay?”

4:15 PM: “Just confused as to why I’m being told this like four months since it happened.”

4:20 PM: “I wanted to tell you, i just didn’t know how to bring it up in a normal conversation. that and my fiance is a bit weird about us talking.”

4:24 PM: “What do you mean weird?”

4:28 PM: “he just gets freaked”

4:33 PM: “Lol I don’t know why he’d get upset at you messaging me just to tell me that you’re getting married to him. Seems like he’s scared.”

4:39 PM: “idk. anyway, i was wondering if you’d like to be invited?”

the conversation went on for half the evening before you both said goodnight and went to sleep.

you were woken up by (y/f/n) standing over you with your phone in his hand.

“(y/f/n)? what is it?”

he had his eyebrows raised in a ‘caught you’ type of way, peering down at you and practically shoving your phone into your face, “what’s this about shawn?”

you let out a short but forceful breath through your nose, “what about it? and why are you in my phone-”

“‘can’t wait to see you’? ‘i think he’s scared’? what the fuck is that about?”

you were sat up in your bed by now, as he had spent the night at your place, “what the fuck about it, (y/f/n)? he used to be one of my closest friends, i’m not going to skip out on inviting him-”

“oh but you don’t back me up when he thinks i’m scared of him? or when he talks shit about my family?”

“all he said was he figured you proposed that way?! why are you freaking out over this?”

“why aren’t YOU freaking out- you know what. i’m gonna head out.”

and with that, he left.

a few weeks and after several arguments later, you officially changed your relationship status to ‘single’ on facebook.

shawn was one of the first to message and ask if you were okay.

you explained everything that had happened, and how you drunkenly figured out (y/f/n) had hooked up with his ex because “if you get to fuck someone else so do i”. even though   . you and shawn haven’t been face to face in like two years  . ok

not even a week later, shawn was at your front door with two weeks worth of clothes packed.

the first few days were reserved for him to kind of hold you, and make sure you were alright. you were sad it was over, and angry that he cheated and used an assumption to do so.

on the third day, though you finally opened up about the situation that lead to the breakup.

you and shawn were on your couch, and it was about midnight. you had been on the topic of busted relationships, and that’s when you felt like it was appropriate to complain, “i’m just, so, confused? like i don’t know what went wrong with it.”

shawn, who had always been real with you, decided to add his opinion in, “he wasn’t ever right for you, from what all you’ve told me.”

you sighed and shook your head, waving your hands in a defeated motion, “i know, he wasn’t ever my type. it’s just, we made a life together,” shawn made a disapproving hum, but kept his words to himself, “and yeah he was kind of a bitch, and his family was really weird and acted like they were better than me, and,” you continued for roughly fifteen more seconds before shawn interrupted

“(y/n), do you hear yourself?” he held his hand sternly against his half crossed legs. you didn’t speak, as you thought he would continue, “you sound like you were living in an imaginary jail cell. there’s more bad than good about him, and i get that usually happens after a breakup, but i’ve heard what, TWO good things about him since i’ve been here? if he’s as bad as you make him seem, which i completely believe, then you’re better off without him.”

you held your head down, staring at the floor while shawn continued on, and spoke softly when he was finished, “i know i probably am, i just can’t wrap my head around why he cheated. he was supposed to love me, and i feel like it was my fault this all ended-”

“it wasn’t ever your fault (y/n).”

“i just-”

“no, listen to me. this man proposed in front of his family because he knew you’d get nervous and say yes so you wouldn’t cause a scene. then when he realized you wouldn’t obey his every order, he didn’t want you anymore. he wanted you to say you were a fixer upper and that HE was the one to help you. but you helped yourself, and he hated that. he literally left you out of nowhere JUST because you invited me, someone you hadn’t spoken to but for mere minutes each year to wish me a happy birthday or new years. then he immediately went and hooked up with an ex, that didn’t you say he lied about talking to at the start of your relationship?”

“yeah but-”

“i don’t mean to interrupt all the time, but there’s not any buts to be had. he realized you weren’t going to be his trophy wife, and he resorted to his ex, who he knew would be there. you’re better off, (y/n). it might take some time, but it’s true.”

you sat in silence for a couple of minutes, taking in all that shawn had said. and, he was right. that piece of shit left you, YOU, all because you invited your ex to an event that bounded you and your fiance together. so, fuck him, and everything he made you go through.

the rest of the night was spent with you and shawn making fun of (y/f/n).

what the future holds

next thing you knew, you and shawn had graduated from college, and (y/f/n) proposed to his ex. but you hadn’t been thinking about him much, especially since shawn had gotten back into your life.

you two were actually looking through apartments up in michigan, and planned to move in with each other by july.

now, you two did this in order to ‘save money’. in reality, two months passed and you two started to catch feelings, again. whooooo would’ve guessed that was going to happen?

regardless, you didn’t mind, and shawn certainly didn’t either.

come to find out, your relationship status changed to ‘in a relationship’ with shawn not even six months after moving in with each other!

your relationship was really sweet, to say the least.

lots of reassurance from shawn, most of the time it was random

temple kisses while you were working on something for your internship to let you know he supported you

really careful and patient when you were stressing out

little “i love you”’s at the most random times. kind of like extra greetings from kurtis conner

tons of showing off, something (y/f/n) never really done

shawn was Extra. like he made a while ass snapchat story dedicated to you because he couldn’t get enough of you

his headers on his social media were always related to your relationship

just genuinely heart warming things

continuation of the heart tracing on your hand (you later on got a tattoo of a heart on the hand he held the most)

he’d get shy when you’d compliment his singing, which would usually happen when he’d serenade you in the floor at night, and he’d have that same blushy patch appear right before he’d hide his smile in the crook of your neck

while sitting next to you, if he couldn’t see your entire side profile, he’d always move your hair and tuck it behind your ear. he also liked to do this thing where he rubbed your ear after doing it

you knew you loved shawn, and he knew he loved you.

like, this dude has loved you for years. of course it dwindled and changed as you both grew, both apart and grew, but he always felt something.

so, it wasn’t a surprise when this conversation took place one night, you both sat on the couch as the background noise of the tv filled the room while you worked on a project, and he was writing a song that’d be for you when it was finished.

“hey, (y/n),” shawn said, a bit lower than the tv’s volume.

“yeah?” you answered monotone and focused on the finishing touches of your project.

he had been staring at you with those soft eyes, so his tone came out a bit more soft too, “let’s get married.”

[smoljams]

‘Nothing Like Us’ part 1/? ~ Jungkook Imagine

Ughh im bored and just thought up this scenario bcs i have no life. I’m sorry if this is bad, its my first one!! x 

genre; gonna be a ‘best friends to lovers’ type fic if you want me to do more parts, just let me know :))

warnings; its my first time and there's a couple swear words 

“Y/N~ahhh come dance with us~” 

You look up from your phone to see 3 pouty faces looking down at you - Tae, Jimin and Kookie. It’s currently 9:25 am and the three of them are full of energy, dancing around to various songs; ranging from CL, to Blackpink, to PSY, to even their own music. 

“Please jagiiii” Jungkook was now kneeling in front of you, they really wanted you to join in huh? You sigh and get up from the couch. Immediately you had three grown men hugging you all at once, unintentionally squishing you. 

“Yay come on Y/N. Lets dance to airplane pt 2!” giggled Tae. You were the same age as Jimin and Tae, just a couple of months younger, but it always seemed to surprise you how someone with such a deep voice could act like a 2 year old. You loved it though! You loved all your 7 best friends. They’ve always been there for you since you could remember, that’s why you decided to move in with them 4 years ago. And if you were completely honest with yourself, it was probably one of the best decisions you have ever made.  

“Noooonaaa” Jungkook whined “come stand by me~” 

You didn’t even have a choice, before you knew it he was pulling you over by your arm. 

*roughly 1 hour later*

“Hey guys we’re ba- wow there’s a party going on in here” Hobi laughed as he walked in, the others from the hyung line following behind. Hoseok being Hoseok, he joins in with the funniest aegyo dance moves ever. 

The other 3 hyungs make themselves at home; Not really paying attention to the noise as it's normal for the younger boys to create chaos. That is until ‘Rainism’ comes on. 

Not knowing the dance to this one, you sat down next to Yoongi on the sofa. The way Jungkook's persona changed - going from the cutest baby boy to the hottest man you've ever seen - had given you butterflies. Everything about him had you in a trance.

His tousled, brown hair was like hues of a woodland, with each strand sitting perfectly on his head, weaving together to frame his golden face. His gorgeous dark eyes filled with confidence and lust. Your own eyes wander down, his jawline flawlessly sculptured, outlining his mesmerising profile. His face was strong and defined; his features carved from granite. Jungkook’s usual boyish ‘bunny’ grin had now been tugged upwards, forming a sensual smirk on his god-like face. Oh boy, he knew he looked heavenly. He was wearing a black, oversized t-shirt and misty grey jogging bottoms; his strong forearms disappearing into the short sleeves - the outfit might be basic but Jungkook looked surreal. Every dance move flowed faultlessly. His big hands and long, yet strong fingers made you feel some type of way. His lips were parted slightly, his breath rough and slightly jagged, concentration evident on his beautiful face. 

He had never looked like this before. Looked so different. Looked so perfect. You hadn't realized that Namjoon had walked into the room, let alone sit the other side of you, that was until he elbowed your arm.

"Hey y/n, I wouldn't get too lost in the maknae like that" Joonie laughed. "It kinda seems like you have a crush on him"

You did have a crush on him. But you could never admit to that. Jungkook was one of your best friends, one of your roommates, and as far as you were aware, you were the only girl he could talk too without malfunctioning. His has always been so comfortable around you and you the same with him.. But you suppose that’s just because you act like ‘one of the guys’. Come on, you think to yourself, he’d never like you back, he is Jeon fucking Jungkook, and you’re just Y/N. You can’t confess to him because he’d say no and then it’d be awkward for everyone, wouldn't it? The last thing you want to do is jeopardize not only you and Jungkook’s friendship but your friendship with the other guys too. 

“um Y/N..you okay there?” Namjoon’s hushed tone quickly brought you back to reality. 

“Yeah Namjoon I’m fine, I’ve just got a headache.”  The small white lie slipped out, but you don’t think too much about it - it’s not like you could have told him the truth. 

Out of the 7 guys, Namjoon is the ‘big brother’ figure for you. He was the one who invited you to live with them 4 years ago, made you feel right at home in South Korea, helped you develop your pronunciation, and, well, annoyed the fuck out of you when he felt necessary. Perhaps it was because you reminded him of his younger sister? It must have been pretty difficult for him to leave behind his baby sister, while he travelled the world, selling out arenas with his best friends - whereas a normal dude would be at home, making fun of his sister and scaring away any other guys who dared to go near her.

Unfortunately for you, Namjoon is an intellectual. Of course he saw straight through your lie. But that doesn’t mean he’s going to call you out on it, oh no, he’s going to do anything and everything in his power to get you closer to Jungkook.  

A/N: omfg was this any good? Please let me know if you want a part 2 - i have so many ideas for this bestfriendau! Thanks for reading!!xx 

[bookishreviewsblog]

Maureen Johnson: Truly, Devious (Truly, Devious #1) | Lara

Author Maureen Johnson weaves a tale of murder and mystery in the first book of a new series.

Ellingham Academy is a famous private school in Vermont for the brightest thinkers, inventors, and artists. It was founded by Albert Ellingham, an early twentieth century tycoon, who wanted to make a wonderful place full of riddles, twisting pathways, and gardens. "A place" he said, "where learning is a game."

Shortly after the school opened, his wife and daughter were kidnapped. The only real clue was a mocking riddle listing methods of murder, signed with the frightening pseudonym, Truly Devious. It became one of the great unsolved crimes of American history.

True-crime aficionado Stevie Bell is set to begin her first year at Ellingham Academy, and she has an ambitious plan: She will solve this cold case. That is, she will solve the case when she gets a grip on her demanding new school life and her housemates: the inventor, the novelist, the actor, the artist, and the jokester. But something strange is happening. Truly Devious makes a surprise return, and death revisits Ellingham Academy. The past has crawled out of its grave. Someone has gotten away with murder.

“There is nothing so serious as a game.” 

Stevie’s parents always wanted to have a normal daughter – one that dates hot boys, goes to prom and spends her free time shopping. Instead, they are stuck with a crime-obsessed genius who got in prestige school for geniuses like her – Ellingham Academy. That is a special school founded by American billionaire Albert Ellingham in 1928. It is built for the purposes of educating teenagers with special skills or knowledge in any area of interest, being specialized and personalized for their needs. Namely, Ellingham’s academy is known for one other thing. In 1936, Albert’s wife and daughter, Iris and Alice Ellingham, were kidnapped. Iris’s body was found days later and Alice was never seen after that. Few weeks before those events, a threat-letter in the form of a riddle arrived signed “Truly, Devious” and is widely believed that the letter is connected to the case. The Ellingham case is one of the most known cold cases and hasn’t been solved to this day. Stevie knows everything about the Ellingham case and dreams of solving it. After she got accepted to Ellingham academy, series of suspicious events lead her onto a new trail, but after finding a dead body of one of her fellow students, the cold case isn’t the only thing that needs solving. “Few words are more chilling when put together than make friends.”

It’s been a while since I read a good mystery book and I can’t believe how much I missed it! When I was younger, I was basically swallowing Agatha Christie books, and the thrill of solving mysteries and theorizing about this book made me want to start reading them way more often. I was really invested in two parallel cases that were emerging through the plot. They both seemed somehow connected, but still separated, and in the end, I had no idea what to think. Johnson really surprised me with her skilled writing and plotting of two time-disconnected, but obviously related and equally mysterious cases. Stevie is a mastermind, but still an amateur detective so reading from her perspective differs from adult crime novels I used to read, especially because she can’t use law enforcement assets and has to sneak around half of the time, but it was still so much fun thinking about someone my age simultaneously solving a cold kidnapping case and a murder. The pacing and obvious absence of solid action represented a hell of a big problem for me. Yes, I am aware that this is a short mystery book and is not intended to be packed with action, but for the first half of the book (I counted it was 50%!), NOTHING was happening. There was Stevie, and Ellingham Academy and a lot of Stevie accommodating to her new school or talking about the case –it all felt like a boring intro. Sure, there should be an intro and all, but that doesn’t mean you make it half of the first book. They were literally filming a video for 100 pages. Only after the discovery of the body did things start to heat up. The story is told from the first-person perspective of one character – Stevie, which is, huh, funny because of all characters I liked her the least. Idk I don’t have a real reason, just found her character boring from time to time. It’s super interesting being inside her head while solving mysteries and I loved how was the relationship with her dick-parents described, although I don’t see why hasn’t she ever stood up for herself. By all means, she sounds like an interesting protagonist, but I just didn’t get that vibe of fondness towards her. The love interest comes in the form of hot mess David, who is, really, something I didn’t realize I needed in this book. He’s obnoxious and does not give a fuck, but is the sweetest cinnamon roll and I’m done. I love this tension and love-to-hate between Stevie and him – it’s just constructed really good, with a lot of fluff and suspense, but still not too much so it’s not pulling around xd I need Nate to become an actual person so I can marry him because he is THE ETERNAL MOOD. Sarcastic, socially awkward and eternally pessimistic author who would rather do anything that actually writes. Perfect. (I think he’s the embodiment of anyone who tried to write anything, ever). “Vitamin D,” Stevie said. “You need it.” “You don’t know that,” he said. “I want to eat my meat in my room with the lights off.” And then there’s Larry, who is supposed to be just a side character but is probably the coolest person in Ellingham. He’s everyone’s official dad detective and no one can tell me otherwise! That cliffhanger, NO! that several weird-as-fuck but utterly amazing cliffhangers left me breathless, craving for the sequel so I guess I better got onto that xd “Look! A riddle! Time for fun!Should we use a rope or gun?Knives are sharp and gleam so prettyPoison’s slow, which is a pityFire is festive, drowning’s slowHanging’s a ropy way to goA broken head, a nasty fallA car colliding with a wallBombs make a very jolly noiseSuch ways to punish naughty boys!What shall we use? We can’t decide.Just like you cannot run or hide.Ha ha.Truly,Devious” (Sorry I just needed to add Truly Devious letter to this review because it’s simply brilliant :P)

[thebeautifulgame7]

Reputation

CO-WRITER: @jazzhandspotter

CHAPTER INDEX

CHAPTER FOUR:

Iris’s POV:

I was sat on the couch one evening with Joey, our normal routine after a long work week for the both of us. I laid on his chest as he kept one arm around me, it was a warm and very comfortable place to be after a hectic week. I tended to work the odd hours and days out of the two of us, creativity and inspiration have no sense of time. He, as a corporate lawyer for Santander Group, the largest banking group in all of Spain, worked a more traditional schedule.

He was getting quite successful recently and was on track for a nice promotion where he would take the lead on more lawsuits than in previous years. I was happy for him I really was, I just could never understand how one could enjoy such an intense, high stakes job. He would always tell me he liked knowing he helped someone protect their investments.

It was obvious I was the more creative of the two of us, that’s not to say that Joey’s profession didn’t require some creative thinking to solve problems. He would be the first one to tell you I was more of the free flowing one in our relationship. I loved him, that was true. We had what everyone desired, a stable relationship, a beautiful, large flat in the prime area of the city, and steady, high-paying jobs that allowed us the luxuries we both loved dearly. It was however, very routine, minus our semi-annual trips to various tropical islands or European cities, we didn’t go out much.

I missed the wild and crazy days of university where the world was at my fingertips and I could do anything and go anywhere. Settling down and starting a career was however, a fact of growing up. It was a fact I wasn’t always happy about. I was fortunate enough to make it in the industry I wanted to. Working in fashion is a dream come true for me and the passion I have for it all shows in my work. I just wish it was easier to find that passion for life, it seemed to have faded over the last few years. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t unhappy, I just felt like there was something more out there that I needed to find on my own.

Joey pulled me out of my thoughts as he spoke, “So are you able to come with me to the Santander event tomorrow night?” He asked, rubbing his hand along my arm.

I sat up slightly and looked at him with a frown, “Babe I told you weeks ago I have to attend a store opening event on the west side of the city, my new line is being debuted there.” I answered, a little disappointed he hadn’t remembered such an event. This was the first time I designed an entire line of clothes that was being sold with my name over that section of the store. That kind of publicity was huge for me as an up and coming designer.

“Right, yeah that thing.” Joey said flippantly, frustrating me slightly.

“Yeah, that thing I’ve been talking about for weeks.” I responded, offended that he thought it was no big deal.

“Can’t you just skip it, I need to keep up my image at work. I have to look good to the bosses if I want that promotion.” He looked at me, completely oblivious to how he was upsetting me.

“You’re joking right? I can’t skip it, besides I don’t really see how me attending would help you.” I stared at him intensely, trying to suppress my growing annoyance.

“Because,” he spoke with the tone of an adult explaining something very simple to a small child, “having a successful, gorgeous girl on my arm shows that I’m capable and can be trusted. It’s just important that you come along, say something small about your job and then you just smile and nod as I kiss up to my bosses and other big attorneys. It’s easy.” He explained, his eyes focused on the television as he finished his vodka soda.

“So you just want me to stand there and look pretty?” I asked him, balling my fists in anger, although he didn’t notice.

“Yeah basically, they probably won’t ask much if anything, you’re like a, a trophy girlfriend for the night.” He shrugged, answering so nonchalantly. When I didn’t respond right away he continued, “Don’t worry, the other wives will be there so you can talk to them about stuff, like hair and clothes or whatever.” I could hardly believe my ears.

“Is that what I am to you? A trophy girlfriend?” I angrily responded. “My career is important to me and I will not be some pawn you use tomorrow to get a promotion.” I added and he looked at me.

“Oh come on Iris, your job is easy you just pick out clothes and design the rest to make a collection. You basically match colors. Your job isn’t like mine.” Joey answered back, still not really looking at me. “I need another drink.” He mumbled, rattling the ice around his empty glass before getting up to refill it.

“What do you mean my job isn’t like yours?” The anger was boiling over inside me and I didn’t bother to hide it anymore as I stormed over to him in the kitchen.

He calmly fixed himself another drink as he spoke, “You play dress-up, I have to compose original arguments for complex financial problems and weave through an immense amount of red tape and government legislation. The attention to detail it requires and the amount of mental work it takes is a lot more.” He finished and looked at me, taking a sip of his newly made drink as he did.

“You are unbelievable, I have no idea what has gotten into you.” I spat back at him and he laughed a little. “Do you have any respect for what I do?”

“Of course, babe, all I’m saying is that it’s not the same as what I do.” I remained silent, stewing in my rage. I could hardly look at him. “C’mon babe you and I both know my job is harder. Plus, it makes great money. You don’t even have to work, you’re pretty enough to just be a housewife.” Joey coolly responded. He seemed almost amused by my attitude about the whole situation, as if he was watching a child throw a tantrum.

“I enjoy my job and I love the challenge it provides for me, I shouldn’t have to justify the level of difficulty and skill it requires for you to take me seriously.” I shouted fiercely. I wanted to hit him. “Also, what have I ever said that made you think that I want to be a housewife? How can you say these things to me after you’ve known me for so long?”

“Iris, babe, you need to calm down. Just skip the opening, it’s not that big of a deal. I think you’re just overreacting.” He rolled his eyes, indicating that this conversation was now boring him. I felt red. I didn’t know what to do. How could he say this? Why?

“I will not calm down!” I bellowed. “I have no idea what has gotten into you but I suggest you figure it out because I will not follow you around.” I turned quickly, stomping towards our room, grabbing whatever I could find to throw in a bag.

“Where the fuck are you going?” Joey questioned, following me into the bedroom.

“I cannot be around you right now, I’m going to Lia’s, don’t wait up.” I spat at him. I walked out of the room, shoving him out of the way on my way to the door. I quickly snatched my purse and drove off. What a dick.

***

Sergio’s POV:

It was another week before I saw Iris again. It was another day at work for me, however, it was one of the more fun days. I had recently become a part owner of one of Madrid’s hottest night clubs, Teatro Kapital. It was a wild place to be some nights, but it was fun visiting to promote the club.

It was a Friday evening and the other owners had asked if I’d be willing to show up for a few hours to endorse the club and gain more foot traffic at it on weekends. I happily obliged, but told them I would not be drinking that night. I had a match Sunday and needed to stay focused. I could, however, use a little fun and play up my reputation tonight.

To be clear, I wasn’t looking to take a girl home that night, but rather to dance with a few and take one with me to the VIP. From there, I would just let what happened happen. That’s kind of what I did on nights like this. People liked to see me interacting with guests. My business partners said it made the club look elite, but also accessible.

I had a trick for nights when Teatro Kapital asked me to make an appearance. I would bring an empty bottle of vodka with me, and fill it with water before I arrived. No one would know the difference and I would be able to keep up my image as Real Madrid’s partying bad boy. I know I said I’m not like that and I’m aware that behavior like this doesn’t help the situation; but at times like this, it made me and Teatro Kapital lots of money.

I felt my phone buzz as the club started to grow its Friday night crowd.

“Could you spare two VIP bracelets for a couple girls in need of a good time?” The text from Lia read. A smile formed on my face, I loved when she came by, it made my night easier, I could just hang out and have fun with her.

I typed back my reply and hit send, “That depends on who these two ladies are…” I was hoping she would say Iris, that would make this night even better.

I scanned the crowd and casually sipped from the bottle of water, forgetting it was supposed to look like vodka. I felt my phone buzz just as I was putting the lid back on.

“Just me, your best friend in the whole world, and her fun best friend, starts with an I ends with a Iris.” Lia’s message said, and I couldn’t help the smile that formed on my face as I read it.

“In that case, I can definitely find two VIP bracelets and scour around the bar for some free drinks if you’d like.”  I answered her, growing more excited as the anticipation grew.

“Perfect, we’ll be there shortly.” Lia responded almost immediately.

I tucked my phone into my pocket and leaned against the railing with a small smile on my face. Lia was the best wingman I had, if Iris and I ended up together I have her to thank. I watched as people danced all around, already having a great time and the headlining DJ hadn’t even come on yet.

***

After what seemed like forever, I finally spotted Iris and Lia walking in. They looked stunning. Iris was wearing these tight black skinny jeans with a burgundy top cut low and short, and heels. It all hugged her figure very well. Lia, as always rocked whatever she wore, but if I’m being honest, my eyes were on Iris.

I raised my hand to flag them down and Lia spotted me, “You both look amazing.” I smiled at them before hugging them both. “Trying to upstage me at my own club once again Lia.” I joked and nudged her.

“Here are your very fancy plastic VIP bracelets.” I said grabbing Lia’s wrist that she held out and securing the neon pink band on it before moving to Iris. “And here is yours hermosa.” I winked as we made eye contact before I fastened her bracelet to her wrist.

“Now for the important part, what can I get you lovely ladies to drink?” I rubbed my hands together, playing host very well.

Lia looked at Iris before they both looked at me, “It’s been a rough day to say the least.” Iris huffed.

“So how about something hard to start then?” I offered. “Shots, something on the rocks? Whatever you want, it’s on me.” I added and she smiled.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to do that.” Iris said suddenly but I waved her off.

“These pink bands,” I pointed to the one on my wrist as well, “Are owner’s bands, you are my guests tonight, you can have whatever you want from the bar as long as you show them that.” I instructed. “But since I’m a gentleman I will go and get it for you.”

“Oh good lord, can we just get some fucking tequila shots Sergio, give Iris an option and you’ll be standing here another ten minutes.” Lia interjected and I laughed before heading to the bar and getting what they had requested.

I returned quickly with a tray of six shot glasses. “Here we go, patron silver, only the nice stuff for my special guests.” I said, handing them both a shot.

Iris raised it to her lips but pulled away, “aren’t you going to join us?” She asked me.

“As much as I’d love to, you know I don’t drink very much during the season.” I politely declined her offer.

“The boys have a game Sunday, he likes to keep himself sharp.” Lia explained as my attention was called somewhere else.

“You girls enjoy yourselves, I’ve got some business to attend to but I’ll be around. We can hang out once I’m done.” I excused myself from the conversation and headed towards the main stage.

“Go get this crowd fired up!” Lia shouted as I walked away.

I smiled and made my way to the stage, grabbing the mic that was handed to be. “Madrid how are we doing tonight?” I yelled into it, hearing the crowd roar in response. “I want to welcome you all to Teatro Kapital, the hottest club in Madrid and my personal favorite.” I said, scanning the crowd. “We’ve got a great night ahead of us, so let’s party!” I yelled again before dropping the mic as the crowd cheered. With the attention still on me, I grabbed the vodka bottle of water from my back pocket and took a huge pull of it, letting some spill onto my shirt as I pulled it away from my mouth. The crowd roared as I stuck my hands up in the air and the music began to blare throughout the speakers in the club.

***

After doing my owner and promotion duties I made my way back to the VIP area to find Iris and Lia dancing with drinks in their hands, mixed drinks at this point.

“Sergio! Come dance with us!” Iris demanded, curling her finger to signal me over.

I smiled as I made my way over, “Another mango margarita, is that you favorite?” I asked her as I started swaying to the music with them.

Iris nodded and took a sip before throwing her hands up and dancing. The music had gotten quite loud at this point and she yelled something in my direction that I didn’t quite catch.

“What was that?” I leaned in and she grabbed my shoulder before pressing her lips almost against my ear. She was very close at this point, and she smelled amazing, like bright tropical fruit.

“I said, I thought you didn���t drink.” She pulled back and smirked before grabbing the bottle from my back pocket, her hand slightly groping my ass as she did so. She was definitely not sober at this point.

I leaned down to her ear and responded, “I don’t, it’s water.” It was my turn to smirk now as she unscrewed the cap, took a sip and realized I was right. “Gotta keep my bad boy party image up.” I winked her, but she didn’t seem to like that comment. She shoved the bottle into my chest lightly before sipping her drink again.

I looked at Lia a little confused, she motioned for me to come closer to her. “She had a big fight with Joey, and it had something to do with his image at work, touchy subject right now.” She explained and I nodded.

I leaned back over to Iris, “You having fun tonight?” I asked, the music almost drowning out my voice. She nodded and moved to dance right in front of me, backing her ass up slightly.

I once again looked to Lia for help. Did she want me to grind with her? Or was she just dancing like this for fun? I didn’t want to cross any lines and I wasn’t sure how to read this situation. Lia winked at me, and motioned for me to dance with Iris while she went to get another drink.

What was the real harm in a little dancing? It wouldn’t go further than this, I was sober. “This is okay?” I asked leaning down to Iris’s ear, resting my hands on her hips and pulling her to me slightly.

“Would I do this if it wasn’t?” She leaned up against me more and danced to the music. I tried to keep pace with her, but she was drunk and the rhythm she was trying to keep wasn’t working. I couldn’t deny how much I liked what was happening, but I had to remind myself of the situation I was in. This could not go further, not in a place like this where the press could find out. I knew no one would report that I was dancing with someone, that was old news, but if I was caught kissing someone that wasn’t my girlfriend, and was an up and coming designer, that would surely make headlines.

I hesitantly pulled Iris a little tighter to my body as my cheek came to rest against her temple. I was painfully aware of every move I was making. I was nervous but I don’t think she could tell. I wasn’t the guy to steal someone else’s girl, but I wasn’t going to stop the girl I had a crush on from dancing with me.

I glanced up to see Lia eyeing us at the bar, she smiled at me and I gave her a nervous grin. She laughed lightly and mouthed the word “relax” before giving me a thumbs up. I guess there wasn’t any damage done in showing Iris what a good time with me could be like.

The bass drop of the song we were dancing to finally hit and we jumped up to dance along with it. Iris turned to face me, wrapping her arms around my neck and smiling up at me. I couldn’t help the grin on my face as I grabbed her hips once more and swayed to the fast paced music with her. I couldn’t care less about what was going on around me, all that mattered was Her.

If Joey didn’t know how to show her a fun night out, then I would take it as my responsibility to do so. Iris backed off of me slightly and rolled her hips as she turned to press her backside up against me again. I didn’t mind though, with her facing me, it was hard to resist trying to kiss her, her back to me made it easier.

We danced along to the beat and Iris moved her arms up to wrap around my neck and pull me closer to her. Slowly one hand moved to my hair, tugging slightly before she released it. Fuck. This girl was hot and she knew it. I had a feeling she also knew about my little crush, not that I minded the tease. Something was better than nothing and I was willing to play along.

Iris pulled my head down a little more, “We can’t tell Joey about this.” She breathed into my ear. The harsh reality that she wasn’t single or mine hit me again, but I had to it shrug off.

I nodded, “Our little secret.” I smirked at her, finally loosening up. She seemed to like my response because a wicked smile crept across her face.

“You’re fun to dance with.” Iris said, pressing up against me more. I got the hint and pulled her closer, my head resting against her shoulder and cheek.

“And you’re a tease.” I answered back, breathing heavily and nibbling her ear before planting a kiss on her neck, I just couldn’t help myself, I had to do something. “Not that I’m complaining.” I added, a cool smile on my face as she looked back at me. I knew what we were doing was wrong, but sometimes you regret not doing things more than doing them.

“I didn’t think you would mind a pretty girl dancing with you.” She answered, one of her hands reaching down to my leg. I gulped slightly, her touch was electrifying. I was going to have to stop this soon and I knew it. Dancing and a few teasing bites and pecks were fine, but I wouldn’t let this go further. I had to protect Iris from doing something she would regret.

“I don’t mind at all, in fact, I was hoping you were going to dance with me.” I kissed her shoulder, then her neck once more, careful not to leave any evidence.

The hand Iris had on my thigh started moving upward as she grinded harder against me. It all felt so good, like a slow burn, dragged out. Slowly the hand made it to my belt, grazing over my crotch lightly, “How about we get out of here?” Iris offered, trying to shove her hand down my pants. I immediately pulled away, releasing her. As enticing and tempting as that offer was, I knew couldn’t and me being the sober one of the two, I had to stop.

“Whoa, okay no.” I told her as she looked at me a little confused and offended. “We can’t do that. We can dance and flirt, but I can’t do that.” I gestured to my crotch before looking at her.

“You won’t? Come on, please, I just want to burn off a little steam and you’re hot.” Iris whined, rubbing her hands over my chest and giving me a pouty face. Now I knew for sure she was drunk, she never would have said something like this sober. “You’re so strong.” She giggles and hiccuped slightly.

“Iris, no, you have a boyfriend, you can burn off steam without hurting the relationship you have with him. We shouldn’t have danced like that, that’s on me” I tried to explain, but talking with drunk people who aren’t getting what they want is difficult.

“Fine, I’m getting another drink.” Iris said, dropping my hands and heading to the bar. I let out a sigh of relief as I reached for my water bottle, catching Lia’s gaze. I gave her a shrug and took a sip.

I was frustrated, that was for sure, but I knew it was the right thing to do. The chemistry I felt with her was intense and I wanted her bad. If what they say about drunk people is true; that there’s always truth in their actions and words, then in some way, shape or form, Iris wanted me too.

***

I was off chatting with a few special guests who came to the club that night when Lia calmly tapped me on the shoulder. I excused myself and turned around.

“So, Iris has had a little too much and I’m concerned she’s going to start doing what she always does when she gets too drunk.” Lia said, pointing to Iris who was dancing on a table and slowly pulling her shirt up.

“She’s not- oh my god she is.” I started but stopped myself as I realized she was in fact going to start taking her clothes off.

I ran over to the table she was dancing on and laid a hand on her leg. She stopped pulling her shirt off and smiled down at me. “Hi Sergio! I missed you, do you want to dance with me?” She asked very happily.

“Iris I think it’s time for you to go home.” I offered her my hand to help her down but she didn’t take it.

“I don’t want to go home to Joey, I want to stay here with you and Lia.” She pouted at me before going back to pulling off her shirt.

I looked at Lia and she nodded at me, an unspoken conversation taking place. “Alright that’s enough.” I said, reaching out and grabbing Iris, throwing her over my shoulder to carry her out. “Lia let’s go, I’ll drive you guys home.” I said, holding Iris so she didn’t fall.

The security team helped us quickly make our way out the back and to my car. “Will you sit with her in the back and keep an eye on her?” I asked Lia as I buckled Iris into the seat.

“I’m fine guys, I just had a lot but I’ll be fine.” Iris lazily responded, slurring her words before hiccuping.

I started driving, handing Lia a small plastic back from the front seat just in case Iris had to throw up. “I don’t think you should take her back to her apartment.” Lia said.

“And why not? You want me to watch her?” I asked, looking at her from my rear view mirror.

“How bad would it look if you brought her back in this state? You’d have to help her she can’t walk on her own up those stairs. Joey would have a fit seeing you and her. He already thinks she’s spending the night at my place anyways.” Lia answered so nonchalantly.

“A sleepover with Sergio? I don’t think Joey would like that.” Iris voiced her opinion.

“No I don’t think he would either.” I agreed with her. “Not that I mind, but Lia why can’t you just take her?” I asked, looking back at her since we were at a red light.

She looked at me incredulously, another silent conversation. “Couples night with Iker huh?” I smirked.

“It’s our tradition before a match, it keeps him relaxed and focused you know that.” Lia winked at me. “Can’t be looking after her and doing that.” She added.

I guess taking Iris to my place for the night was the best option at this point. I was completely sober and I wasn’t going to be doing anything tonight anyways. It would give me a chance to be around her more which I always enjoyed.

[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. 

.

.

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 :’’)

[caomhainnmacmhaoirn]

Double Crossing

The streets were bustling with commuters heading to work. It had been a cold wind overnight which brought with it the purest snow to cleanse the sight of the dirty and ugly pavements. It was the coldest day since Hitlers tanks had reached the city and so many good men were lost in the name of the Rodina. The Kremlin was starting to fill with office workers who helped the country run as best as they could. The secretaries were on time but for one of them, their bosses were already at their desk, preparing themselves for the long day ahead.

The elder man was now in his 60’s and had long been in the Russian intelligence but he was promoted to the job by his like-minded former colleague and friend. It was his connection to the President and his undoubted military expertise and experience of working in the KGB that got him the job he was in now. The job which meant he was in charge of all intelligence operations across the globe and occasionally had to update the President, like he was about to do in a quarter of an hour. The chatter of people in the corridors was now noticeably loud and things began to feel like a normal day for the Director. He stood up and took his jacket from the back of his swivel chair, he checked his tie in the reflection of the window. “I don’t think I’ll be more prepared for the briefing,” The tall, grey haired man said as he swung his suit jacket around and slipped it on. “Do you have operation summaries ready, Dima? Thank you.” He took the folder in his hand and left the room.

The SVR Assistant Director was running towards the office of the President. Michail Libonov, his superior, the Director of the SVR was heading into a meeting with the Russian President and would have wanted, no, needed to be told about what had happened. “Get out of my way,” Dima yelled as he weaved between secretaries at the bottom of the stairs. Fucking lazy idiots, he wanted to say but that was not important right now.

Bolting up the stairs he could hear Agency Executive Libinov talking, “Micha, wait!” Chernyshevky shouted. “Don’t go in just yet.” Michail Libinov angrily turned around to see a panting mess desperately trying to reach him. Libinov was no spring chicken himself but he demanded that he and his staff lead by example in physical terms.

“What is it now, Dima?” The SVR Director said, as he hung up his phone.

“It’s Adrian, he’s not called in!” Chernyshevsky claimed, hunched over his hands on his knees and gasping for air. “Chief of Station Hong Kong has reason to believe he has defected.”

“Fuck,” The SVR Director said with his head in his hands. “He was supposed to bring an asset over to us from those bastards today!”

Libinov looked at Cherynyshevsky, who was starting to stand upright and straighten himself out.

“What do you suggest Dima?” Libinov said. He knew his deputy didn’t have an answer, Adrian Norin was the best agent they had in China. There was no indication that he may go over to the other side, at least nothing obvious.

“We can’t get to him now, Michail,” Chernyshevsky said. “At least not until we can figure out what the Chinese want to do with him.”

Libinov took his eyes from Chernyshevsky and looked along the corridor to the door he would be going through in a few minutes to break the bad news to the President.

How am I supposed to break it to him? It was the last thought he wanted to have before a meeting with his boss. The President of the Russian Federation was the person that Michail Libinov answered to. He had grown close, in the years since the Berlin Wall fell, with the former KGB Officer. They both had been posted in East Germany for a few years but at different times, they got to know each other better when they turned to politics in the nineties.

“That man will expect answers or my resignation!” Libinov thought out loud. “I can’t give him one and and I don’t want to give him the other.”

“Tell him the truth, Michail.” Chernyshevsky said. “Tell him Adrian has gone but we already have people looking to put a plan in place to get him back dead or alive.”

It was the only option anyway and Libinov knew it. He wouldn’t be allowed to carry on in his job if he didn’t do something about Adrian Norin.

“Fine, but tell Hong Kong to get a fucking move on with a plan and I want it on my desk by the afternoon.” Libinov sighed.

“Yes, sir!” Chernyshevsky saluted and returned to his office.

What a nightmare! Libinov tried not to think of all the things that could possibly happen to him in the President's Office. Litvinenko and Navalny… He wouldn’t do that to me, would he? He turned and walked the corridor, it had grown in length by a million miles since he found out about Adrian’s defection. When the SVR Director got to the President's door, he took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead. He straightened his tie for the fifth time since leaving his house that morning and took a deep breath before knocking.

Argyle Street was buzzing with people enjoying the sunny day. As vibrant as anywhere in the world, Adrian Norin enjoyed seeing people go about their business happily and peacefully. It isn’t always the case in Hong Kong in recent years particularly with the protests but as time moves forward Hong Kong wanted it to go back to when it had freedoms. Freedoms like they had under rule of the British until 97.

He found the little fast food restaurant he had heard all about from his asset whom he was here to meet. Jollibee, was like a Chinese version of the British Little Chef, much better looking though, he thought. He ordered and took a seat, away from the window, he ate his chicken and looked around like any normal tourist might in a strange place. He wasn’t any normal tourist though, Adrian was an SVR Intelligence Officer based in Hong Kong, he was on the run from his own people and he knew it wouldn’t be long before they realised that he was. He had made his checks on the people around and was satisfied nobody knew who he was, he relaxed a bit more and took a sip of his drink. He decided to enjoy his meal, Liu won’t be much longer anyway, he prayed trying not to look at his watch.

The opening door caught his attention and he flicked his eyes up to see who it was. It was him, his old friend, a tired looking man but as bright as any man Norin ever met, Liu Wei got him out of a bit of trouble when the two were assigned together on a mission in London together several years ago. The Chinese Intelligence Officer sat down across from Adrian without ordering, “How are you? You ready?” Liu asked hurriedly.

“Yes, I only bought this to look like I wanted to be here.” Norin replied.

“There’s a car around the corner, I had to sign it out from the Ministry,” Liu said. ”I made sure I wasn’t followed, but it won’t be long before they realise I’m not coming back.”

“I know how you feel, let’s get going before this brit gets cold feet and leaves without us, Liu” Adrian said.

The two men got up and left the table with the tray of food on it and walked around to Shanghai Street past other restaurants and shops. One always checking around them while they made it to the car. It wouldn’t take them long to get to Victoria Harbour but even then they would still be in trouble. Although they were meeting a British spook they were getting on a merchant boat for Macau and had to somehow get off the boat and onto a British submarine. As they headed south Liu Wei was silent for the whole trip till the Sky100 tower was in sight.

He was wondering what he had done for almost all of his adult life until he realised that he wasn’t as firm a believer in China and it’s Party as they wanted him to be. All these trips to Europe and he didn’t even begin to think how much his fellow countrymen did not know about their Government.

Liu parked the car and the pair got out when they saw their British contact walk from the pier. The middle-aged woman looked like a professional of some kind in a smart suit and her glasses. Adrian was amazed that females did this sort of thing but more amazed that at her age she still had a youthful look despite the greying hair. Emma Green had been with MI6 for 15 years after her time as a Language Specialist and a teacher around Europe. She had made contact with Adrian when Liu brought information to her attention last week. It was a quicker turnaround for an extraction than she had expected but that was to everyone’s advantage.“Glad you both made it,” she said, “I’ve heard that both of your agencies have already got men on the lookout for you so we better get moving.” The merchant boat left as soon as they got on board, and took to the China Sea as fast as it possibly could.

Adrian stood looking back at the harbour thinking about what he left behind, but he could make out the noise of a commotion that was going on in the car park. Two Chinese men were pushing their way through the crowded pier with a group of men behind them, Secret Police!, he thought. “Just in time Liu,” he shouted back over his shoulder to his friend, who was talking to Green. “How quick do you think they told their Navy?”

“Could easily have got the word to them by now but would they be ready to do something?” He said. “Maybe, if they were already aware something was going to happen.”

Emma grabbed Adrian by his sleeve, “We need to get you guys ready for the next part of the plan,” she said. “We’ve got wetsuits below for when you go overboard but wear them under your clothes.” Emma introduced them to the Captain and they went down below to get ready.

Emma was talking to the Captain when Adrian and Liu came back up on deck. “So you two, I need to know a bit more detail about what you both know so I can pass it on to London before you leave,” She said. “Norin, we already know that the Russians have been involved in hacking during elections but what exactly have they been doing?”

“We have got an asset in the American’s federal system who works on the electronic voting systems,” Adrian said, begrudgingly. He trusted Emma but he hated this interrogation when they knew they were getting the info they needed. “He has been in America for a long time and worked his way up but I won’t reveal his identity until I’m in Britain, Emma.”

“That’s fine, but does this mean he’s going to hack the elections in November?” Green asked.

“Yes, the President wants the old man to win because of his views on international politics and his divisive effect on the country,” Adrian huffed. “He really loves that mad man.”

“Not so surprising, but we can verify it with the yanks when we get you back home,” The MI6 woman turned to Liu. “What about you? Who did you say the target was?”

Liu was looking over the side, back at Hong Kong, “It's the Hong Kong Ambassador to Britain. She is the target and I believe they have someone ready to do it,” he said. “The Ambassador is to meet at a dinner in a hotel next month. It’ll be then and it will look like one of your own has done it.”

“Oh god! Hong Kong would implode and the Chinese would pick up the pieces,” Green said. “That’s smart of them.”

“Right now tell us why we needed to wear clothes over our wetsuits?” Adrian asked.

Adrian poured a coffee in the Captain's small office and sat down with Liu. The coffee wasn’t helping his nerves but there was nothing else in the cupboard. “When do you think it will happen?” Adrian said. “It can’t be much longer now.”

“Emma must have wrong information,” he pointed at the clock on the wall opposite the door. “That noise is annoying me, you think the Captain would miss it if I throw it out of the window?”

Adrian cracked a smile, it was the first time he had something to smile about in a long time. “This reminds me of London,” he said. “Did I ever thank you for that?”

“No, you can buy the first vodka when we get back to London though.” Liu laughed, slapping Adrian’s shoulder.

They stopped laughing as they heard him shots above them. Adrian reached into the Captains drawer and threw a handgun to Liu. It wasn’t what they were used to in their training with the SVR and the Ministry of State Security, but it wasn’t the worst guns they had ever had. Liu opened the door and peeked out up and down the corridor, people were running about and shouting between bursts of gunfire. They made their way aft, towards the closest stairs to the upper deck. A shout behind them in Chinese made Liu turn back as a bullet hit the light above them. Returning fire, Liu dived behind a corner as Adrian had found cover in an empty dorm on the other side of the corridor.

Adrian had a better view of the gunman behind them, he signalled with his hands for Liu to go to the stairs. The Chinese gunman came out from behind the wall to get closer but Adrian had luckily come out at the same time and fired. He caught the man in the chest with one of the three bullets he shot to let Liu get to the stairs.

They got to the top and out to fresh sea air the darkness of the night made it difficult to see where the Chinese had come from. Shouting and gunfire was still continuing above and below deck but they were taking more fire as they ran towards the bow. Liu tripped over a loose rope on the deck and dropped his gun. “Fuck!” Liu shouted as gunfire hailed upon them from behind. “Liu, come one, get up!!” Adrian shouted as he ran back. He helped his friend up and he thought he spotted something out on the port side in the dark waters. Another bullet ricocheted on the metal railing as Liu got to his feet and began to move. “Fuck it, let’s get off, Liu.” Adrian shouted. Liu ran to the railing and climbed over to jump off, Adrian Norin was about to follow him when he saw a gunman ahead of them pull the trigger on his handgun. “LIU, NO!” He yelled as he jumped over the rail to take his friend with him. In an instant they had hit the water.

Adrian was in pain, his shoulder had taken the bullet that was destined for Liu. He could sense the Chinese Intelligence man beside him but there was someone else with them. The person had got hold of him and was handing him something. It was an oxygen mask, he was being given oxygen from this person. Is this man British? He wondered. Liu was being helped away by someone else too. They continued to swim underwater sharing oxygen with their escorts back to the submarine.

Eventually they came up to fresh air about two clicks away Adrian could see the merchant boat they had just come from and he could hear Liu behind him getting on top of the sub. “Make mine a large vodka, Liu!” He yelled as he climbed up on the sub too with help from his British saviour. Liu laughed and threw his arm over Adrian’s good shoulder. “Only the good stuff for you!” He said with a chuckle.

[artificialqueens]

Star Power Over Me - Part Two (Vixie/Trixya) - Pilandok

AN: Okay a few things: 1) part two ended up being much longer than I thought so I halfed it. 2) Katya isn’t here yet (kinda) but she will appear. 3) First time writing drag race fanfiction, experimenting w/ pronouns– ended up writing them as he out of drag and she in drag so it changes, whatever. 4) Smut-ish again? I don’t know why this keeps happening. 5) All lyrics that aren’t “Star Power” by Sonic Youth are mine. Thank you for reading.

Part One.

Trixie is surprisingly casual about everything. Violet was half-expecting that when the alcohol has seeped out of their system, Trixie was going to start freaking out about their morally dubious actions. Unexpectedly, however, and Violet wakes up to an empty bed and a note on the table.

Early flight today, sorry I can’t hang. Love you bitch. Xoxo T.

His handwriting is a lot less legible than Violet expected it to be. After reading the note, he takes a moment to gather his things before starting his journey back to his own hotel room. Practically stumbling out of the door, Violet isn’t exactly hung over, it’s just that he’s not a morning person at all; he prefers to start functioning at noon. He spots Trixie in the hallway, a few paces from the door, talking on the phone. For his part, Trixie doesn’t look hungover at all, not even a little tired.

                 “Yeah, yeah. I’m about to leave, yeah. I’ll be there on time, don’t worry.” Trixie looks up and sees Violet and smiles, he makes a gesture with his hand, telling Violet to wait for him. Violet nods groggily, rubbing his eyes. He waits for Trixie to finish his call but he isn’t sure exactly why or what for. The time of his phone reads 8:13 AM.

                 “Hey sorry,” Trixie apologizes when he walks over to Violet, “I have an early flight.”

                 “Mhm,” Violet answers, still not fully aware of his surroundings. Trixie appears to be amused at this.

                 “Here,” Trixie hands him his half-finished cup of coffee, “I drank some already but it’s still warm and you look like you could use some.”

Violet accepts the cup from Trixie and takes a sip. It seems to take effect immediately and he wakes up little. He stares at Trixie and wonders what he should say.

                 “Have a good flight,” he settles.

                 “I will. Go get some rest already, you look like you really need it,” Trixie says playfully.

                 “Don’t be rude,” Violet grumbles. Trixie laughs and leans in to kiss him on the cheek.

                 “See you, bitch.” Trixie leaves for the elevator down the hall and Violet watches him until he turns the corner. Violet then continues his trek back to his room, calculating how many hours of sleep he can get before he has to get ready to leave.

—

After the incident, Trixie and Violet haven’t given much thought to the night they shared together, chalking it up as another weird incident in the string of bizarre events that is a drag queen’s life. Stranger things have happened. And of the sexual encounters they’ve had, this one wasn’t half bad. It was pretty good, in fact, a lot better than they imagined. Their relationship with each other hasn’t changed, however, rarely communicating aside from the occasional interaction on social media. Weeks pass and Trixie and Violet have all but forgotten about that night. It wasn’t until a month later that Trixie and Violet see each other again. It was on a Drag Race night in a club in LA, which means they’ve booked a few Ru girls along with usual array of local queens, hoping to get more traction in their scene.

Trixie and Violet have finished their number and are in the dressing room, waiting for the call to do the meet and greets. The club provided them with cocktails and both queens accepted them graciously, situating themselves on the couch in the dressing room with their legs tucked underneath them a la Untucked. They spend the first few minutes reenacting iconic incidents from the series before falling into an easy conversation teetering towards flirtation. Halfway through the drinks, Trixie realizes that they have been unconsciously closing the gap between them with every burst of laughter and the lingering of an innocent touch. The other queens weaving in and out of the dressing room eyes them with tepid suspicion and Trixie’s not sure if she has been noticing this, choosing ultimately to brush off the stares. Violet appears to be completely oblivious and swings her legs over Trixie’s lap.

“I think one of your balls is about to pop out,” Trixie comments, pretending to take a peek.

Violet slaps her shoulder lightly, “Nothing you haven’t put in your mouth before, bitch.”

“Don’t be gross,” Trixie answers, her screaming laughter echoing in the dressing room.

“Oh my god can’t you laugh like a normal person? You, your psycho scream is fucking— “

Violet is interrupted by a loud creak of the door. “Well well well, who do we have here?” Jinkx interrupts having just entered the room. She closes the door behind her slowly. “Why, isn’t it RuPaul’s Drag Race season 7 winner Violet Chachki,” she takes a small bow towards Violet then turns to Trixie, “… and All Stars 3 winner, I suppose?”

Trixie smiles meaningfully and shakes her head, not giving anything away.

“Aww, not even a tiny hint?” Jinkx pouts.

Trixie tilts her head slightly in mock-consideration, “Well…”

“Ahh! Don’t tell me,” Violet presses her hands over her ears, “No spoilers!”

“Sorry, Jinkx,” Trixie smiles at her apologetically, “you heard the lady.”

“Boo,” she answered, plopping herself down beside the pair on the couch. She pulls out a joint and a lighter from her bra which Trixie and Violet watches with wonderment. She winks at them before lighting the joint and taking a long drag from it. She offers it to them.

“No thank you,” Trixie declines.

Violet takes up the offer, however, and inhales deeply, looking straight at Trixie. She holds the smoke in for an extra moment before parting her lips slightly to let the smoke ascend on its own. Trixie doesn’t look away. Violet hands the blunt to Trixie who looks at it warily and sighs, takes a hit of her own.

Jinkx observes this interaction with great interest. When she’s handed back the joint, she holds it between her middle and index finger like a cigarette. “The youth… is wasted on the young,” she begins dramatically, “oh why must the universe inflict upon us such cruel ironies? When I see you two young, beautiful ladies,” she continues, turning to the pair, “flirting without consequence, the bubbling sexual tension not a premonition for troubles to come… oh to be young! If only this aging carafe can receive a taste of young flesh once more.” She lets the dramatic silence fall over all of them.

“Jinkx, you’re like two years older than me,” Trixie deadpans. Jinkx begins to stage-weep melodramatically. Violet looks at her, perplexed, Trixie tells her, “forget it, once she gets into character, we can’t do anything about it.”

“Time, the merciless mother of us all!” she starts again. “Only a kiss from the fountain of youth can bring these—”

“Jinkx.”

“—these wasted, decrepit, rickety bones— “

“Jinkx Monsoon.”

“—moldy, sagging, sinewy, discolored, putrid, decomposing—”

“Jinkx!”

“—only a— mmph”

Suddenly, Violet reaches over to grab Jinkx’ face and pulls her into a firm kiss.

“Oh my,” Jinkx reacts afterwards, she widens her eyes comically and covers her mouth with the tips of her fingers. She and Violet look at Trixie expectantly.

“Oh fuck it,” Trixie says then gives Jinkx a kiss too.

Jinkx burst into a maniacal cackle, “you fools!” Jinkx stands up and walks slowly around the room, “you’ve let me absorb your energy, I now have the power!”

Trixie and Violet roll their eyes, amused by Jinkx’s antics. They hear someone call them for the meet and greet and Trixie gets up to leave, she reaches out her hand to Violet she takes it. Jinkx is still in the middle of her spectacle and the two drag queens giggle at her as they exit the dressing room hand in hand.

The meet and greet is over soon enough and Trixie offers Violet a place to stay for the night. Both of them leave the club in full drag. Arriving at her apartment, Trixie heads straight to the shower, leaving Violet to pace awkwardly around her room. It isn’t a lot different from the other LA queens’ bedrooms, she notes, sparsely furnished, and still looking a little brand new. Various drag paraphernalia litters the room following a trail leading to what Violet guesses is a walk-in closet. The room also houses a few guitars and other unfamiliar folk instruments; on a table, sheets of papers are strewn with Trixie’s familiar handwriting. Violet makes an attempt to read them but the writing is even more illegible than before, but from what she can discern, Trixie is writing some new songs. The instruments along with the bright pink walls of the room makes Violet feel like she’s inside her Trixie brain, where both Trixie and Brian have learned to coexist.

Violet hears Trixie start singing in the shower.

“Work, work… mm… I am a professional, work…” she recognizes Shangela’s song and tries not to think too deeply if this counts as a spoiler. She walks towards the bathroom door and finds it unlocked. She lets herself in as Trixie switches to singing an unfamiliar folk song.

“Trixie,” she calls.

Trixie stops singing to respond, “Vi? Need anything?”

Violet doesn’t say anything, instead she removes the pink silk robe that Trixie lent her to cover up her usual burlesque drag. She has her own clothes but in the club Trixie and everyone else laughed at seeing her wear their robe because oh wow, baby pink does not suit you at all. You look like a grandma prostitute.Violet decided to humor them and kept it on. She hangs the robe on the hook then takes off her heels, stockings, corset, and the rest of her lingerie and lays it down carefully beside the sink. She pulls the shower curtain to the side and Trixie jumps in surprise, she was in the process of lathering her face with make-up remover.

“Jesus Christ. I’ve seen Psycho, Violet,” Trixie says then proceeds to rub her face.

“I’m not the one with the mug looking like a melting clown, bitch.”

Trixie lifts a middle finger to her and steps to the side, giving Violet space to climb in. Trixie turns on the shower to rinse her face. Violet borrows the make-up remover and starts working on her face.

“Fuck, bitch, are you trying to boil your skin off?” Violet comments at the temperature of the water. Trixie aims the showerhead at Violet and she squeals, cursing at Trixie who chuckles but turns the heat down. “Shit, I got some on my eye.” Violet reaches blindly for water and Trixie hands it to her so she can wash her face. Trixie eyes the water travelling on Violet’s body; from it splashing onto her face, sliding down to her chest, and falling between her legs. When Violet opens her eyes she sees Trixie, now completely make-up-free, looking at her with that same smile on his face. “What?”

“You’re so skinny,” he remarks.

“What?”

“Pretty and skinny.”

“What?”

“So pretty,” Trixie breathes.

Before he can say anything, Trixie pushes him against the wall and starts kissing him. Violet recoils against the cool tiles of the bathroom but pulls Trixie closer to him, responding hurriedly. He’s surprised at Trixie’s erection rubbing against his leg and it stimulates his own budding one. Trixie’s hands slide down from his neck, scratch his chest, and trace down his stomach. One wraps around Violet’s cock and begins tugging slightly, the other follows the shape of his ass and teases his asshole. Violet groans and pushes Trixie off. Trixie is horrified for a second, ready to race to an apology when Violet turns around and presses his ass against Trixie’s dick. Trixie feels a fire ignite in his gut, seeing Violet bent over in front of him, both hands on the wall to hold himself steady.

“Say it again,” Violet says tensely.

For a moment, Trixie is confused, but then a pleased grin slowly spreads on his face. He leans in to whisper, “you’re so skinny and you look so pretty.” He angles the tip of his penis against Violet’s entrance and hears Violet whimper. The sound sends pulses of pleasure to his erection. He gives himself a moment to be impressed by the animalistic desire that Violet Chachki’s whimpering ignites in him before leaning in again. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers, pushing his cock inside.

—

                 Later that night, Violet, asleep on Trixie’s bed, stirs awake to the sound of a guitar being played. He squints and sees Trixie on the other side of the room hunched over the table, writing fervently with a guitar on his lap. He strums the guitar again.

                 “You ain’t quite the Barbie/ but you’re such a doll/ Should I spoil myself with sweets? / I’ve never had the gall / to be having this much fun/ am I allowed to jump the gun? —no,” Trixie stops abruptly and scratches on the paper, “not right,” he mumbles. He plays a different chord with the last line.

                 “Sounds better,” Violet remarks. Trixie flinches in surprise and turns around. Violet can see him blushing slightly at having been caught. “Are you writing a song about me?” he teases, half-asleep.

                 “Oh, uh…” Trixie stutters nervously. Violet smiles.

                 “Come here,” Violet instructs, yawning, “play me something.” Trixie carries his guitar over to the bed and sits cross-legged on the mattress. Violet turns to the side and watches Trixie. “You look butch.”

                 “Bitch,” Trixie replies automatically and plays a few test chords.

                 “No country, please.”

Trixie looks slightly offended. “But all my songs are country.”

Violet shrugs in response, “then play something that isn’t yours.”

Trixie huffs, “fine.” He pauses for a moment to think then starts plucking a few tabs on his guitar. Violet hums in approval. Trixie begins to sing.

“Spinning dreams with angel wings

Torn blue jeans, foolish grin

Burning down in the night

So cool, so right

Star power, star power

Star power over me

She knows how to make love to me

She knows how to make love…”

Violet begins to drift off to sleep, the soft guitar echoing in the room.

“Close my eyes and think of you

Everything is black and blue…”

Trixie’s voice is heavy, leaden with something Violet doesn’t pick up on. But it makes him dream a blur of visions—of blonde Russian acrobats, bleached white teeth, and cigarettes on red lips.

Tags - Trixie Mattel, Violet Chachki, Vixie, Trixya, light angst, foreboding fluff, non au, smut, pilandok

vStar Power Over Me - Part Two (Vixie/Trixya) - Pilandok

AN: Okay a few things: 1) part two ended up being much longer than I thought so I halfed it. 2) Katya isn’t here yet (kinda) but she will appear. 3) First time writing drag race fanfiction, experimenting w/ pronouns– ended up writing them as he out of drag and she in drag so it changes, whatever. 4) Smut-ish again? I don’t know why this keeps happening. 5) All lyrics that aren’t “Star Power” by Sonic Youth are mine. Thank you for reading.

Part One.

Trixie is surprisingly casual about everything. Violet was half-expecting that when the alcohol has seeped out of their system, Trixie was going to start freaking out about their morally dubious actions. Unexpectedly, however, and Violet wakes up to an empty bed and a note on the table.

Early flight today, sorry I can’t hang. Love you bitch. Xoxo T.

His handwriting is a lot less legible than Violet expected it to be. After reading the note, he takes a moment to gather his things before starting his journey back to his own hotel room. Practically stumbling out of the door, Violet isn’t exactly hung over, it’s just that he’s not a morning person at all; he prefers to start functioning at noon. He spots Trixie in the hallway, a few paces from the door, talking on the phone. For his part, Trixie doesn’t look hungover at all, not even a little tired.

                 “Yeah, yeah. I’m about to leave, yeah. I’ll be there on time, don’t worry.” Trixie looks up and sees Violet and smiles, he makes a gesture with his hand, telling Violet to wait for him. Violet nods groggily, rubbing his eyes. He waits for Trixie to finish his call but he isn’t sure exactly why or what for. The time of his phone reads 8:13 AM.

                 “Hey sorry,” Trixie apologizes when he walks over to Violet, “I have an early flight.”

                 “Mhm,” Violet answers, still not fully aware of his surroundings. Trixie appears to be amused at this.

                 “Here,” Trixie hands him his half-finished cup of coffee, “I drank some already but it’s still warm and you look like you could use some.”

Violet accepts the cup from Trixie and takes a sip. It seems to take effect immediately and he wakes up little. He stares at Trixie and wonders what he should say.

                 “Have a good flight,” he settles.

                 “I will. Go get some rest already, you look like you really need it,” Trixie says playfully.

                 “Don’t be rude,” Violet grumbles. Trixie laughs and leans in to kiss him on the cheek.

                 “See you, bitch.” Trixie leaves for the elevator down the hall and Violet watches him until he turns the corner. Violet then continues his trek back to his room, calculating how many hours of sleep he can get before he has to get ready to leave.

—

After the incident, Trixie and Violet haven’t given much thought to the night they shared together, chalking it up as another weird incident in the string of bizarre events that is a drag queen’s life. Stranger things have happened. And of the sexual encounters they’ve had, this one wasn’t half bad. It was pretty good, in fact, a lot better than they imagined. Their relationship with each other hasn’t changed, however, rarely communicating aside from the occasional interaction on social media. Weeks pass and Trixie and Violet have all but forgotten about that night. It wasn’t until a month later that Trixie and Violet see each other again. It was on a Drag Race night in a club in LA, which means they’ve booked a few Ru girls along with usual array of local queens, hoping to get more traction in their scene.

Trixie and Violet have finished their number and are in the dressing room, waiting for the call to do the meet and greets. The club provided them with cocktails and both queens accepted them graciously, situating themselves on the couch in the dressing room with their legs tucked underneath them a la Untucked. They spend the first few minutes reenacting iconic incidents from the series before falling into an easy conversation teetering towards flirtation. Halfway through the drinks, Trixie realizes that they have been unconsciously closing the gap between them with every burst of laughter and the lingering of an innocent touch. The other queens weaving in and out of the dressing room eyes them with tepid suspicion and Trixie’s not sure if she has been noticing this, choosing ultimately to brush off the stares. Violet appears to be completely oblivious and swings her legs over Trixie’s lap.

“I think one of your balls is about to pop out,” Trixie comments, pretending to take a peek.

Violet slaps her shoulder lightly, “Nothing you haven’t put in your mouth before, bitch.”

“Don’t be gross,” Trixie answers, her screaming laughter echoing in the dressing room.

“Oh my god can’t you laugh like a normal person? You, your psycho scream is fucking— “

Violet is interrupted by a loud creak of the door. “Well well well, who do we have here?” Jinkx interrupts having just entered the room. She closes the door behind her slowly. “Why, isn’t it RuPaul’s Drag Race season 7 winner Violet Chachki,” she takes a small bow towards Violet then turns to Trixie, “… and All Stars 3 winner, I suppose?”

Trixie smiles meaningfully and shakes her head, not giving anything away.

“Aww, not even a tiny hint?” Jinkx pouts.

Trixie tilts her head slightly in mock-consideration, “Well…”

“Ahh! Don’t tell me,” Violet presses her hands over her ears, “No spoilers!”

“Sorry, Jinkx,” Trixie smiles at her apologetically, “you heard the lady.”

“Boo,” she answered, plopping herself down beside the pair on the couch. She pulls out a joint and a lighter from her bra which Trixie and Violet watches with wonderment. She winks at them before lighting the joint and taking a long drag from it. She offers it to them.

“No thank you,” Trixie declines.

Violet takes up the offer, however, and inhales deeply, looking straight at Trixie. She holds the smoke in for an extra moment before parting her lips slightly to let the smoke ascend on its own. Trixie doesn’t look away. Violet hands the blunt to Trixie who looks at it warily and sighs, takes a hit of her own.

Jinkx observes this interaction with great interest. When she’s handed back the joint, she holds it between her middle and index finger like a cigarette. “The youth… is wasted on the young,” she begins dramatically, “oh why must the universe inflict upon us such cruel ironies? When I see you two young, beautiful ladies,” she continues, turning to the pair, “flirting without consequence, the bubbling sexual tension not a premonition for troubles to come… oh to be young! If only this aging carafe can receive a taste of young flesh once more.” She lets the dramatic silence fall over all of them.

“Jinkx, you’re like two years older than me,” Trixie deadpans. Jinkx begins to stage-weep melodramatically. Violet looks at her, perplexed, Trixie tells her, “forget it, once she gets into character, we can’t do anything about it.”

“Time, the merciless mother of us all!” she starts again. “Only a kiss from the fountain of youth can bring these—”

“Jinkx.”

“—these wasted, decrepit, rickety bones— “

“Jinkx Monsoon.”

“—moldy, sagging, sinewy, discolored, putrid, decomposing—”

“Jinkx!”

“—only a— mmph”

Suddenly, Violet reaches over to grab Jinkx’ face and pulls her into a firm kiss.

“Oh my,” Jinkx reacts afterwards, she widens her eyes comically and covers her mouth with the tips of her fingers. She and Violet look at Trixie expectantly.

“Oh fuck it,” Trixie says then gives Jinkx a kiss too.

Jinkx burst into a maniacal cackle, “you fools!” Jinkx stands up and walks slowly around the room, “you’ve let me absorb your energy, I now have the power!”

Trixie and Violet roll their eyes, amused by Jinkx’s antics. They hear someone call them for the meet and greet and Trixie gets up to leave, she reaches out her hand to Violet she takes it. Jinkx is still in the middle of her spectacle and the two drag queens giggle at her as they exit the dressing room hand in hand.

The meet and greet is over soon enough and Trixie offers Violet a place to stay for the night. Both of them leave the club in full drag. Arriving at her apartment, Trixie heads straight to the shower, leaving Violet to pace awkwardly around her room. It isn’t a lot different from the other LA queens’ bedrooms, she notes, sparsely furnished, and still looking a little brand new. Various drag paraphernalia litters the room following a trail leading to what Violet guesses is a walk-in closet. The room also houses a few guitars and other unfamiliar folk instruments; on a table, sheets of papers are strewn with Trixie’s familiar handwriting. Violet makes an attempt to read them but the writing is even more illegible than before, but from what she can discern, Trixie is writing some new songs. The instruments along with the bright pink walls of the room makes Violet feel like she’s inside her Trixie brain, where both Trixie and Brian have learned to coexist.

Violet hears Trixie start singing in the shower.

“Work, work… mm… I am a professional, work…” she recognizes Shangela’s song and tries not to think too deeply if this counts as a spoiler. She walks towards the bathroom door and finds it unlocked. She lets herself in as Trixie switches to singing an unfamiliar folk song.

“Trixie,” she calls.

Trixie stops singing to respond, “Vi? Need anything?”

Violet doesn’t say anything, instead she removes the pink silk robe that Trixie lent her to cover up her usual burlesque drag. She has her own clothes but in the club Trixie and everyone else laughed at seeing her wear their robe because oh wow, baby pink does not suit you at all. You look like a grandma prostitute.Violet decided to humor them and kept it on. She hangs the robe on the hook then takes off her heels, stockings, corset, and the rest of her lingerie and lays it down carefully beside the sink. She pulls the shower curtain to the side and Trixie jumps in surprise, she was in the process of lathering her face with make-up remover.

“Jesus Christ. I’ve seen Psycho, Violet,” Trixie says then proceeds to rub her face.

“I’m not the one with the mug looking like a melting clown, bitch.”

Trixie lifts a middle finger to her and steps to the side, giving Violet space to climb in. Trixie turns on the shower to rinse her face. Violet borrows the make-up remover and starts working on her face.

“Fuck, bitch, are you trying to boil your skin off?” Violet comments at the temperature of the water. Trixie aims the showerhead at Violet and she squeals, cursing at Trixie who chuckles but turns the heat down. “Shit, I got some on my eye.” Violet reaches blindly for water and Trixie hands it to her so she can wash her face. Trixie eyes the water travelling on Violet’s body; from it splashing onto her face, sliding down to her chest, and falling between her legs. When Violet opens her eyes she sees Trixie, now completely make-up-free, looking at her with that same smile on his face. “What?”

“You’re so skinny,” he remarks.

“What?”

“Pretty and skinny.”

“What?”

“So pretty,” Trixie breathes.

Before he can say anything, Trixie pushes him against the wall and starts kissing him. Violet recoils against the cool tiles of the bathroom but pulls Trixie closer to him, responding hurriedly. He’s surprised at Trixie’s erection rubbing against his leg and it stimulates his own budding one. Trixie’s hands slide down from his neck, scratch his chest, and trace down his stomach. One wraps around Violet’s cock and begins tugging slightly, the other follows the shape of his ass and teases his asshole. Violet groans and pushes Trixie off. Trixie is horrified for a second, ready to race to an apology when Violet turns around and presses his ass against Trixie’s dick. Trixie feels a fire ignite in his gut, seeing Violet bent over in front of him, both hands on the wall to hold himself steady.

“Say it again,” Violet says tensely.

For a moment, Trixie is confused, but then a pleased grin slowly spreads on his face. He leans in to whisper, “you’re so skinny and you look so pretty.” He angles the tip of his penis against Violet’s entrance and hears Violet whimper. The sound sends pulses of pleasure to his erection. He gives himself a moment to be impressed by the animalistic desire that Violet Chachki’s whimpering ignites in him before leaning in again. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers, pushing his cock inside.

—

                 Later that night, Violet, asleep on Trixie’s bed, stirs awake to the sound of a guitar being played. He squints and sees Trixie on the other side of the room hunched over the table, writing fervently with a guitar on his lap. He strums the guitar again.

                 “You ain’t quite the Barbie/ but you’re such a doll/ Should I spoil myself with sweets? / I’ve never had the gall / to be having this much fun/ am I allowed to jump the gun? —no,” Trixie stops abruptly and scratches on the paper, “not right,” he mumbles. He plays a different chord with the last line.

                 “Sounds better,” Violet remarks. Trixie flinches in surprise and turns around. Violet can see him blushing slightly at having been caught. “Are you writing a song about me?” he teases, half-asleep.

                 “Oh, uh…” Trixie stutters nervously. Violet smiles.

                 “Come here,” Violet instructs, yawning, “play me something.” Trixie carries his guitar over to the bed and sits cross-legged on the mattress. Violet turns to the side and watches Trixie. “You look butch.”

                 “Bitch,” Trixie replies automatically and plays a few test chords.

                 “No country, please.”

Trixie looks slightly offended. “But all my songs are country.”

Violet shrugs in response, “then play something that isn’t yours.”

Trixie huffs, “fine.” He pauses for a moment to think then starts plucking a few tabs on his guitar. Violet hums in approval. Trixie begins to sing.

“Spinning dreams with angel wings

Torn blue jeans, foolish grin

Burning down in the night

So cool, so right

Star power, star power

Star power over me

She knows how to make love to me

She knows how to make love…”

Violet begins to drift off to sleep, the soft guitar echoing in the room.

“Close my eyes and think of you

Everything is black and blue…”

Trixie’s voice is heavy, leaden with something Violet doesn’t pick up on. But it makes him dream a blur of visions—of blonde Russian acrobats, bleached white teeth, and cigarettes on red lips.