#along with the hundreds of shows that center around girls with close relationships to other girls

[houkagokappa]

There are few things I hate more than when an anime gets condensed into whether or not it’s yuribait. I was looking up comments on the upcoming Hibike! Euphonium projects and so many of them focused on the series ending up a failure somehow because it was just bait, or that those who shipped KumiRei must be mad because their ship sunk (and these commenters found joy in it because shippers are delusional).

First of all, these commenters don’t understand shipping at all. Shipping is about fun or interesting what-if’s, not collecting proof of what must happen. It’s supposed to be lighthearted and not that serious. It can be brainrot inducing, but there’s a degree of separation between what’s canon or a headcanon and things you simply dream of seeing without believing or demanding that they’ll happen in the series itself. And yes, representation is important too, but it’s separate to shipping, especially depending on the series and what sort of realistic expectations you can have for it.

Second, those who mock shippers for reading into things too much tend to be very quick with their own assumptions. You can’t presume that a character is straight just because they haven’t shown signs of being gay. If they’re “too young to know” it extends to ALL identities, including heterosexuality. Sexuality can be fluid and there’s a lot more to it than two opposites - bisexuality or asexuality are almost always conveniently forgotten as other possibilities, along with all other romantic and sexual identities. Not to mention how difficult it can be to realize your own sexuality and be open about it thanks to heteronormativity and societal pressure to fit in.

It’s such a shame when the canon status of a ship seems to be the only thing some people get out of a series or think is what others watch or read it for. Of course it’s fine to watch or read something for a ship and it’s not like I haven’t done it myself, but when you equate the value of something to whether or not a ship in the series becomes canon it’s quite sad and disrespectful towards the creators and fans. I love Hibike for its portrayal of finding a passion, working hard towards a goal and all the complex feelings that come with it. Kumiko’s extremely relatable for me and it’s interesting how untypical she is as a protagonist. Her relationship (as it’s shown) to Reina is important to me, but it’s more of an additional treat than the sole purpose for my love towards the series.

I do read their relationship and their feelings towards each other having a romantic undertone. I don’t think it’s far-fetched or impossible even when they’ve shown interest towards male characters. You can love multiple people and you can love them simultaneously in different ways. I don’t need to see them enter a romantic relationship for their feelings or this reading of them to be valid and true, or for me to find enjoyment and meaning from it. It’s sad that those who claim it’s bait can’t comprehend that queer readings are possible even without explicit hand-holding* confessions** kisses and sex (whether it’s a more serious interpretation or just for some fun shipping) and that some yuri fans can’t be happy with what we got, but demand more from a series that never intended to cater to those demands. There are plenty of yuri works to watch and read for those explicit moments, and there are plenty of other things to love about the series in addition to the relationships.

*no wait they’ve done this **they’ve done this too

[ameliora-j]

before i fell // dm x reader

words: 2.8k

warnings: angst, talk of a breakup, mention of loss of virginity, mention of not eating, mention of not sleeping, pansy is kinda ooc and so is draco, the slytherins are assholes

a/n: i used a lot of olivia rodrigo lyrics bc i listened to SOUR while writing lol. lmk if i should add other warnings and happy reading babies!

you would be cliche and say that you fell in love the way that you fall asleep. slowly and then all at once. but you couldn’t because you didn’t. it wasn’t a john green novel and you weren’t hazel grace lancaster. falling in love wasn’t simple, and that description of it truly… didn’t describe anything. falling in love was more complicated than that. there were more layers to it than that. falling in love was rather… quick and unexpected. unexpected like snow in the middle of march. or rain when there’s not a cloud in sight. quick like waiting months for an event and finally when the time comes, it feels like you blinked and then it was over.

falling in love with draco malfoy was all of these things and more. falling in love with draco malfoy brought upon more layers than that. falling in love with draco malfoy brought pain. not just any kind of pain, no… horrible, heart wrenching, gut twisting pain. pain that began by bubbling itself in your chest right at the center of your heart, then slowly but surely worked it’s way outwards. encapsulating your entire body and making every inch of your body ache. pain like when you get attached to a character and the author kills them off. pain like when you finish your favorite book and you realize that you’re not truly in that universe and none of that actually happened. pain like when you’re two hours, fifteen minutes, and twelve seconds into avengers: infinity war and peter parker says “mr. stark, i don’t feel so good.” pain that you’ve never felt. pain that can’t be described. pain that you felt for days. pain.

you thought it was strange when the platinum blonde slytherin sought you out. he came to you one day while you sat silently at the black lake. you were alone, but only because you liked to be. you had friends of course, many actually, but you chose to be alone. the black lake was your place of solace. then along came draco. he sat beside you, a good distance away, but his presence was known. you looked to him for an explanation but he offered none. just smiled at you and turned to his notes, so you did the same. the second time he came, he sat closer, but still in silence. the third time is when he struck up conversation.

“yln, yeah?” he questioned.

“yn, actually. but yes, yn yln. and you’re draco malfoy?” you asked.

“i am,” he smirked at your knowledge of his name and then you returned to your studying. after that, the two of you talked every time he came and sat with you. short discussions about the weather or the potions assignment. you don’t know when, but soon they became longer. discussions of your day and your family. your interests and how you got your name. how you loved the rain and the stars and how you loved hogwarts, but you often missed home. draco knew you inside and out and you knew him—and before long, you called the tall, skinny blonde your boyfriend.

you walked the halls of hogwarts together, hand in hand. draco walked haughtily with a hard scowl and you with a bright smile. while you walked cheerfully and waved to your friends and to first years while draco glared at anyone who dared look at the two of you. he took you to parties in the slytherin common room and you wore his jersey proudly at quidditch games, even when he played against your house. he bought you lavish gifts at all of your trips to hogsmeade and he showered you in kisses, praise, and affection. you were whole heartedly smitten with the sole heir to the malfoy fortune.

it was one fateful day in the common room when your heart absolutely exploded. that was the day you knew that you fell in love with draco malfoy. you had been a thing for about two, going on three, months. you were sitting in the slytherin common room, reading in silence when he asked. you were pressed against his chest and he pressed a soft kiss to your head. “‘ve been meaning to ask you something,” he murmured gently. this caused you to close the book and turn your full attention to him. “want you to wear this,” he said, holding out a ring. “it’s the malfoy family crest.”

your stomach and your heart exploded into billions of butterflies and you launched yourself forward, straight into his chest. millions of emotions overcame you as you squeezed his neck as tight as possible. you nodded into his neck as a few stray tears fell. he kissed your head repeatedly as he slid the ring onto your finger before pressing his lips to your’s gently. you giggled excitedly as you stared down at the ring on your finger. “do you like it?” he asked you.

“i love it, dray. i love you. thank you s’much,” you confessed for the first time as you cuddled back into his chest. you don’t know what it was that made the blonde boy seek you out, but you’re glad he did. if only you knew the true nature of his intentions. but alas, you were oblivious.

it was the beginning of the school year, on the train to hogwarts. in the compartment of what was labeled as “the slytherin squad.” there sat theo nott, pansy parkinson, blaise zabini, and—your now boyfriend—draco malfoy.

they were all sitting around, taking the piss out of draco for all of his past failed relationships when it was brought up. “i’ll bet malfoy couldn’t get a girl to fall in love with him if he paid her,” theo spoke.

“i’ll take that bet,” draco countered.

“alright. but we get to pick the girl,” blaise decided.

“what?” pansy asked as theo began to look around the compartment. it was a few minutes before he found the victim. it was then that your fate was sealed. there, sitting in the back corner, head tucked deep into a copy of the fault in our stars, was you. you. awkward and quiet. you with seemingly no friends. poor little unsuspecting you.

“that one,” nott smirked evilly.

“what the weirdo?!” draco exclaimed incredulously. “no way!”

“so then you forfeit?” blaise asked, causing draco to release a frustrated exhale.

“alright i’ll do it,” he rolled his eyes.

“then we give you five months. make yn yln fall in love with you in five months and we’ll do your homework for the rest of the year,” theo posed.

“and if i don’t?” draco asked.

“and when you don’t… thennn,” blaise taunted as he searched for a deal that was fair.

“then we get two hundred galleons each and you have to apologize to potter for making his life hell,” theo smirked. draco scoffed at this and rolled his eyes, but nodded nonetheless.

“and what are my conditions?” he raised an eyebrow.

“she has to say it first. you can do anything you want or need to get her to say it, but you cannot say ‘i love you’ first,” blaise spoke.

“this doesn’t seem fair to yn,” pansy piped in.

“shut your mouth parkinson. no one asked your opinion,” theo growled with a roll of his eyes. but it was too late. there was absolutely nothing the girl could do to get the three to change their minds. she just had to sit idly by and watch draco malfoy break your heart as she said nothing. she wished that she could stop it, but their minds were made up. and the three of them were very stubborn.

it was a few days after draco gave you his ring when your bubble came crashing down. you were walking to meet draco at your spot at the black lake when blaise and theo intercepted you. you knew who they were, of course you did. they were your boyfriend’s best friends, however why they were currently speaking to you, you had no idea.

they told you it would be quick. that they just wanted to show you something in the slytherin common room and left little room for argument, so you had no choice but to follow them there. they sat you on the couch and began to discuss your relationship with draco. you were very confused and had no idea why you were here. “so… draco hasn’t told you?” blaise mocked a gasp of shock.

“no?” you raised a soft eyebrow as you stared on. this made theo smirk evilly as he pulled up a projector and pointed his wand at it. a picture appeared, it looked like a memory. “what’s this?” you asked before the boys urged you to ‘shh.’ you sunk further into the couch as you idly watched on.

you truly weren’t paying attention untill you heard the voice of your boyfriend. the words he spoke stung. you were soft. emotional. the way he spoke about you absolutely crushed you. it would crush anyone, but it shattered you especially. “she’s so fucking weird!” “i’ll take that bet.”

‘s all you were. all you ever were. just a stupid belt. another notch in his belt. it was that moment that draco had barged into the common room. but by then, it was already too late. the tears had already sprung to your eyes and you were preparing for a torrential downpour as you heard his voice. “i’m out!” he announced breathlessly. he froze in his run as his eyes fell on you and what was playing on the projector currently. “bunny…” he whispered softly as his hand touched your shoulder, but you quickly jerked away as if his hand had burned you on contact.

“don’t call me that. don’t touch me,” you demanded as the tears began to fall. “that’s all i was? a bet?” an involuntary whimper sounded from the depths of your throat. “i feel so stupid.” you shook your head.

“no, bunny please listen to me,” you didn’t allow the boy to finish as you wrapped your arms tightly around yourself.

“don’t call me that!” you demanded. “in fact don’t call me at all. don’t… don’t talk to me draco. ever again. i can’t believe i fell for your stupid joke. i feel so… i feel like an idiot,” you spoke. you shook your head, hastily wiping at your eyes untill you saw stars. it was then that you decided to walk away.

“YN STOP!” draco yelled. “LISTEN to me,” he demanded.

“NO!” you shouted as you turned to face him finally. “godric draco, i wish you would’ve thought this through before i went and fell in love with you,” you sniffled as you wiped your snot on your sweater sleeve.

“yn please just let me explain. please listen to me, please,” he begged.

“i feel like you betrayed me,” you shook your head. “i told you everything. you were my everything. draco i loved you. i actually loved you. i thought you loved me too but i guess you’re just a really good actor,” you sniffled once more. “i hate you draco. i really fucking hate you. i don’t want to hear your bullshit explanation because i know that you’ll never feel sorry for the way i’m hurting right now.”

“it was a bet!” draco shouted as you walked away, hand on the door knob. you scoffed as you muttered a sarcastic, ‘no shit.’ “that’s how it started yes, but then i got to know you. i figured out who you were. i learned that your favorite color is yfc and that you prefer night over day because you love the stars and that your favorite star is scorpius and you would name your son after that star one day. i learned that you love to read and you love when it storms but you're afraid of the thunder. you only dance when you’re drunk and you giggle when you’re nervous and i love that giggle. with everything in me i do. your favorite book is yfb and you choose to be alone but you let everyone be your friend. you’re gorgeous. inside and out and while it may have started as a bet, somewhere along the lines i fell in love with you so yn please. please don’t leave,” he whispered the last part as his voice came out broken.

you took a deep breath in before you began to speak. “you couldn’t have cared less about someone who loved you more. i’d say you broke my heart but you broke much more than that,” you shook your head as you furiously wiped at your eyes again. “i gave you my all draco. you were my first everything. i gave you my virginity for merlin’s sake. all to find out that i was just some stupid bet,” you scoffed.

“yn please believe me when i say that you’re so much more than that,” he begged again. “i came to tell them that they won. that i wanted out because i fell in love with you too!”

“it doesn’t matter if you don’t see me as a bet any longer. the fact is that you did. i’m worth so so much more than that.” your breaths were ragged as you spoke. “i really wish that you had thought this through before i went and fell in love with you.” you repeated with a small sniffle. “don’t you think i loved you too much to be used and discarded? don’t you think i loved you too much to think i deserve nothing?” you were openly sobbing at this point.

“yn please believe me when i tell you how sorry i am…” he spoke softly.

“don’t tell me you’re sorry. feel sorry for yourself. because someday i’ll be everything to somebody else,” with this you turned away from him. you hastily opened the door and practically ran out of the common room and away from him.

at that moment you decided to forget about it. draco, and the bet, and love, and everything. like in the vampire diaries, you decided to turn your emotions off. you laid in your dorm crying for hours before you made that decision, however. your dorm mates checked on you often, but you never offered more than merely a half hearted shrug, letting them know that you were still alive, but barely breathing. you skipped classes and meals. you were a mere shell of yourself. it was about two weeks before you could face draco again. and even then you couldn’t truly. you went into the great hall and found “the slytherin squad” sans draco.

pansy looked at you sympathetically while theo and blaise basked in the glow of their new victory. you pulled the ring off carelessly as you stopped in front of them, hair disheveled and uniform askew. you had dark bags under your eyes from the lack of sleep you’d gotten in the past fourteen days and your eyes were rimmed red with the weight of your emotions. “c’you just give this back to malfoy,” you murmured half-heartedly as you dropped the ring on the table in front of the three. just speaking his name brought you pain.

your shoulders were sunken in defeat and you were but a shell of your usual cheerful self. you don’t even know when the last time you saw daylight or had fresh air was. “wait yln,” pansy called hesitantly. you turned to face her, still staring down at your mary janes as you pulled and twisted your fingers untill you heard your knuckles pop. “you… you really love him, don’t you?”

you just shrugged your right shoulder as you used the heel of your palm to wipe the snot from your rapidly reddening nose. “i was just some stupid bet,” you replied as tears begin to spill rapidly over your waterline.

“if it’s any consolation… it was those two bozos’ idea,” pansy told you as she pointed to blaise and theo.

“doesn’t matter,” you murmured. “he’s still a traitor,” you answered as you walked away, forgetting all about the slytherin prince and his stupid friends. forgetting all about how he hit you with a train of his “love.” forgetting all about how for three months he was your everything. forgetting all about how he wrote to his mum about you and you wrote to your parents about him. forgetting all about draco malfoy. the platinum blonde boy with stormy grey eyes who had a long story buried beneath his haughty exterior. the boy who you called your first. your first kiss. your first time. your first love. forgetting all about the boy that made you fall in love just to tell you it was all a bet.

attempting to revert back to how you were before you fell.

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[anncanta]

Veduta of Venice

Fandom: Dracula (2020)

Characters: Count Dracula, Zoe Van Helsing, Agatha Van Helsing

Relationship: Dracula/Zoe Van Helsing, Dracula/Agatha Van Helsing

Rating: Explicit

Veduta (Italian veduta - seen, view, picture, point of view) is a genre of Western European painting and graphics, especially popular in Venice of the 18th century.

@alma37 @hopipollahorror @ravenathantum @flutteringphalanges @ladyhaley28​ @dragatha @khyruma​

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Or read below

The hotel was damp and cold, but the view was magnificent. Rising from the chair, Zoe wrapped herself tighter in a wide woolen scarf and went out onto a tiny balcony made of openwork stone.

As far as the eye could see, there was water ahead – pinkish, blue, green. Zoe had never seen so much water before. The water has never been so close. Leaning over the balcony railing, Zoe stared down at the low waves intersecting at odd angles.

Such a strange city. When she bought a tour at the agency, she was offered a choice – Verona or Venice. Zoe rejected Verona at once. And she looked at the glamorous, deliberately beautiful photos of Venice for a long time as if looking for something – either a crack in the ideal porcelain world captured on the image or ugly everyday flaws. In the end, she decided – she has nothing to lose.

The flight never seemed to end. The large iron bird seemed to hang in the sky forever, spreading its immovable wings and holding the half-asleep Zoe either in its paws or in a steel silver beak. When, to her surprise, the bird let her go, Zoe still had to get from mainland Italy deep into the archipelago. So she arrived at the hotel completely exhausted.

She burst into a spacious room that smelled of rain and prickly nights, dropped her suitcase on the floor, and stretched out on an obscenely wide bed.

And when she woke up, the sun, mother-of-pearl gray skies, and water looked out of her windows.

Zoe wasn't going to take a vacation. She worked hard and monotonously, with stubborn, dull dedication, unlike many of her workaholic colleagues – not for the sake of her own reputation and career, and not at all for show. The fact is that there was really nothing more in her life.

Zoe didn’t realize it right away. She just worked, day after day, not even always overtime. Like everyone else, she played bowling on Thursdays and had fun in pubs on Fridays. But when her friends and colleagues hurried home to their families at the end of a stormy evening Zoe, starting her old Renault, every time fought the temptation to return to the laboratory.

This went on for a long time. Months. Years. Until one day, on the eve of her fortieth birthday, Zoe realized that the desire to go back to work after a party with friends was her only temptation.

For some reason, this understanding frightened her so much that the next morning she was already sitting in the office of the head of the medical research center in which she worked, with an application for a vacation, and a week later – on a plane on her way to Italy.

Zoe straightened and looked at the bright scarlet sun sinking into the bay. Self-pity is not the best feeling to approach the second half of your life, she thought. Well, in general, she had nothing to feel sorry for herself. She was lonely – but she always had more or less enough of her own company, with the rare addition of a friend or two to chat with over the weekend. She did not have an impressive career – although many of her colleagues at the center, who discussed at tea the young doctor, who had managed to make several breakthrough discoveries by the age of thirty-five, could argue with this. Success in science is an unpopular success. Nothing to brag about. Zoe chuckled out of the corner of her mouth. And she had absolutely no idea what to do next, and for that matter – why all this was needed.

On the other hand, why not?

Would she have died of some kind of blood cancer, she would have made a sort of a romantic heroine, Zoe thought irritably as she closed the balcony.

At the foot of the building, somewhere far, far away, muddy water was rustling and foaming.

***

Zoe bought a complete tour, which included a full package of services, so she did not choose a hotel. Maybe if she did, she would spend time looking for something more comfortable and not so boring, she mused as she walked down to the restaurant for lunch. During the week and a half that Zoe spent here, nothing happened in the hotel that could conditionally pass for entertainment. Don't consider the other guests as such, she chuckled mentally. On the stairs and in the corridors, there were mostly gloomy gray-haired couples and girls of dubious appearance. Sometimes a jazz band played in the lobby in the evenings.

There wasn`t a soul to be seen in the bright and quiet hall – except for a tall man in black, sitting in the far corner at the piano. Leaning over the keyboard, the man absentmindedly fingered the keys, pulling out the notes one at a time. Zoe smiled at the metaphor that crossed her mind and turned around and headed there instead of the restaurant.

In the niche in which the piano was hidden, only one small lamp burned, giving a soft yellow-orange light. Falling obliquely on the keyboard and the lid, it snatched out of the half-light a man's back and shoulder, tightened in a classic black suit, the outlines of the profile and hands with large fingers.

Approaching, Zoe leaned on the piano and for a while, just stood listening to the music. Now, being near, she could finally understand what was wrong with this music – the stranger played skillfully and cleanly, but the melody, its very fabric, seemed... vulnerable and fragile as if the pianist was painfully remembering it or composing it on the go. Zoe watched as his hands gently touch the keys as if asking about something – and finding no answer.

‘You haven't played for a long time,’ she said softly.

‘Very long,’ he raised his head. For a moment, his face – beautiful, pale, with dark eyes and well-defined lips – remained relaxed. Then he brushed aside a straight strand of black hair that had fallen on his forehead and looked at Zoe. And then a strange expression appeared in his gaze – bewildered, amazed... looking. This happens with those who have met someone whom they have long lost hope of seeing. Zoe could bet that he was about to say something, but at the last moment, he resisted. He turned away again and continued to play.

‘My… teacher was pretty good,’ an ironic note slipped through his low voice, ‘but I'm afraid I’m lacking in practice. What do you think?’ The stranger again raised his eyes to Zoe.

‘I like your manner,’ she said carefully. ‘Have you just arrived?’ she asked for some unknown reason.

‘Yes, yesterday,’ said the man. ‘Always wanted to go to Venice,’ he added slowly. ‘To this... city of dreams.’

Zoe smiled involuntarily. Looking at his hands, which were still on the keyboard, she suddenly imagined with amazing clarity how fingers stroking the keys touch her skin. Imagined how they touch her neck, shoulders, pass along the shoulder blades, move to the waist, barely noticeable, but confidently increasing the pressure. Turning away, Zoe blinked.

The momentary rush of embarrassment, however, disappeared as quickly as it had arisen. What are you here for, Zoe, she asked herself. Not to sit in the room in the evenings with a glass of Tokaj and picture suffering, are you? Take a look at this piece of masculine beauty and make the most of what he promises. If he promises, of course.

‘ – at dinner tonight?’ Zoe woke up and looked at her interlocutor. Judging by his look, he was perfectly aware of what she was thinking and did not seem to mind. ‘If I understood correctly, there will be dances after dinner.’

Zoe nodded.

‘It's always like this here on Fridays. If you're looking for entertainment, there is hardly a better case,’ she said, looking him in the eye. ‘The season has just ended.’

The man silently shook his head.

‘I’ll come,’ he answered, standing up. He bowed graciously, intending to leave, and suddenly turned around. ‘What is your name?’

Again this strange seeking expression, a poignant mixture of despair and hope. And mockery – not at her, at himself.

‘Zoe Van Helsing,’ she said. Amazement flashed in his dark eyes but then disappeared.

‘Count Dracula,’ he said, shaking her outstretched hand. ‘See you at dinner, Zoe Van Helsing.’

***

For the upcoming evening, Zoe prepared carefully. After scrapping several spectacularly low-cut dresses, she settled on blue jeans and a light blue blouse. ‘If he is a real Count,’ her pride chuckled, ‘you will hardly be able to surprise him.’ Well, she didn't intend to.

‘I want to have a good time,’ Zoe muttered, glancing at herself in the mirror of an antique carved dressing table. She washed off the mascara from her eyelashes, which she diligently dyed five minutes ago, then, after short thinking, wiped a thin layer of lipstick from her lips. Zoe used makeup a little and only on special occasions, but it was not a lack of habit or awkwardness that made her get rid of it now. She could not explain to herself why, but she was sure that the best choice for meeting the Count was naturalness.

The hotel restaurant was unusually full: probably dancing inspired not only her, moving to one of the few free tables – at the exit to the terrace – Zoe thought. Sitting at the table and ordering a glass of Chianti, she turned her face to the light wind blowing from the ajar doors.

The bay shone in shades of blue, pink, and dove. Small waves broke up, catching the lighted lanterns. Zoe heard how music was born and tried its power in the hall. The wind became a little cooler. The waiter brought her Chianti.

She could have sat like that all evening, Zoe thought after the third or fifth sip. The music became louder and a little braver. Zoe decided that she might need more wine.

‘You promised me a dance.’

‘When did I?’ Zoe turned around.

Pause.

‘One hundred twenty-three years ago.’

She chuckled.

‘What a precision. And what a tactlessness!’

‘I beg your pardon?’

He was dressed in the same classic black suit as when they first met, and just like when they first met, she wanted this suit off him immediately. Zoe nodded to his questioning glance in the direction of the chair opposite and said, putting down her glass:

‘You just hinted at my age?’

‘No way,’ Dracula responded with mock horror. His eyes flashed with a mixture of irony and melancholy. ‘Never mind, this is... a personal joke.’

The orchestra fell silent behind them. One by one, the instruments stopped playing, as if they were disappearing into the shadows, yielding to the only remaining violin.

Zoe finished her wine. She felt like crying. Determination and frivolity vanished, and anger with herself remained.

‘I –’ she began, but Dracula interrupted her.

‘You promised me a dance.’

She watched him get up and walk over to her. Taking his hand, she rose and allowed him to lead her to a small dance floor in the opposite corner. She saw him making a sign to the musicians, heard the first chords sounded, then he pulled her to him and velvetly ran his hand along her back.

Everything floated somewhere: Venice, the damp smell of canals, a shade of raw plaster, which seemed to cover everything and everyone in this city, a draft coming from everywhere; pink-blue sky. Closed, sharply defined lips and dark, demanding eyes.

Music came from somewhere with dry clicks, crumbling on them beat by beat and measuring their steps. Piano – thunderstorm, monotonous rain, wet asphalt, water on San Marco. Pigeons flutter out from under her feet. Fractional flashes of droplets gather in puddles, a violin steps carefully over them, creeps in, displaces other sounds, and again remains alone. Freezes, kissing her forehead. And everything freezes with it.

...They took the elevator for ages. Squeezing his hand, Zoe watched the numbers change on the scoreboard on the wall. When the number three finally lit upon it, it seemed to her: a little more, and she simply could not stand it. They got to the room, and holding the key card to the door, she was surprised – it does not open until it dawned on her: not her suit. The door opened, closed behind her. Zoe leaned back on it, lifted her head.

Dracula leaned over to her and took her face in his hands. Zoe stood silently, motionless. Closing her eyes, she held her breath, feeling the touch of his lips, then – the tongue. Snuggling up to him, she grabbed him by the neck. He ran his hands over her body, finding, squeezed the nipples through the fabric. He pulled her blouse from the belt and ducked under it with his palm. Exactly how she fantasized... a long time ago... yes, this... afternoon. Twitching impatiently, Zoe swung her hips, her jeans button digging into his stomach. He pulled away, turning her, pressed her to the door again, tore off the button, zipper, and put his hand into her panties. Zoe buried her forehead against the door with a groan. His fingers caressed her harshly and roughly, without ceremony, tormenting her, not allowing her to escape. Zoe finished, breathing out a soundless scream.

Grasping her from behind, Dracula waited until she calmed down, turned her around, ran his fingers over her cheeks, erasing the lines of tears. He pulled her into the room, along with him, to the bed.

Lying on her back, Zoe listened to the disturbed world rebuilding within her body. She smiled at Dracula, who had time to put his clothes somewhere and bent over her. Now his touch was gentle, fleetingly teasing as if he was asking for forgiveness for the recent explosion. Zoe lifted herself up and slid into his arms – and gasped as he rolled onto his back, swapping them.

Zoe loved sex and found partners easily. Many of them were passionate and skillful. But she never really wanted to be on top. She shifted in embarrassment. She wasn't even sure she understood how...

She did not have time to think out the thought: grabbing her by the waist, Dracula slowly lowered her onto himself. And it was so good and... accurately, that Zoe bit her lip with acute pleasure. Dracula waited a couple more moments, lifted her, froze. Zoe frowned in bewilderment. He smiled and moved his hips. Once, twice. The third – slower, then faster, and in the same order – again. Arching, she trembled – and when his fingers found her clitoris, everything became unimportant, there were only moans and sighs in the darkness.

…

‘Would you like some coffee?’ Zoe asked. Dracula, hugging her with both arms and absentmindedly running his fingers over her stomach, shook his head.

‘I don’t drink... coffee,’ he replied, and there was distant anxiety in his voice. Zoe nodded nonchalantly as she climbed out of bed, wrapped her dressing gown, and walked over to the table.

‘It's cold,’ she said, looking into the coffee pot. Well, the coffee was brought in yesterday. She turned to Dracula, who was sitting on the bed. He was disheveled and looked at her in a strange way. ‘I'll order a new one.’ Stepping to the balcony, Zoe opened the glass door and breathed in the morning air.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dracula get up and approach her.

The sky was still gray, but somewhere in the distance birds were already awakening. Zoe turned to Dracula – and froze, bumping into a sharp, focused gaze.

He stood naked in front of her, and there was something very familiar about it – not because of last night, but different.

‘Sorry.’

He grabbed her with lightning speed, so that she did not have time to recoil or cry out, hugged her again – and something happened.

Zoe felt herself trembling and swaying, slipping and falling into an unknown direction. Everything blurred, and before her eyes flashed pictures – an iron grate, a torch thrown to the ground, the smell of burnt wool, a nun's dress, and blood. Swaying, salty air, captain at the helm, shouts, shadows on the deck, and another fire. An explosion, the smell of fresh gunpowder tickling her nostrils, a man's face distorted by rage bending over her.

Agatha recoiled, gasping for air, and finally screamed when she realized what he was doing.

‘Agatha, it`s over!’ Reality fell on her and struck from all sides at once, stunning. ‘That's all, Agatha!’ Dracula hugged her, holding her. She struggled, trembling, bursting into sobs. ‘Sorry,’ he repeated when she was exhausted and quieted down. ‘Sorry, I had to make sure.’

He let her go, and she, moving away, climbed onto the bed, huddled like a wounded animal. She wrapped herself tighter in her dressing gown, which miraculously still remained on her. She leaned back on the pillow and cried softly. Dracula silently sat down on the other side of the bed.

‘You survived,’ Agatha said without looking at him.

‘I did,’ said Dracula. ‘I just slept for a hundred and twenty years. Then I woke up and saw around... all this. But I liked it, you know.’

Agatha didn't answer. She didn't want details. She wanted to close her eyes and not open them for another hundred years.

‘How many have you eaten?’ she said dismissively.

‘Agatha, you worked at the research medical center,’ Dracula's voice sounded annoyed. ‘Do you know who the donors are? These are special people who donate blood, eggs, and sperm.’ He paused. ‘And there is Tinder, besides.’

Agatha felt her head begin to throb heavily.

‘How is this possible?’ she asked hoarsely. Turning, she looked at Dracula. Dracula didn't answer. ‘It’s the twenty-seventh of October two thousand and twenty,’ Agatha said with an effort. ‘I ate toast for breakfast. My blood type is the first negative. I don't like grapes and I love bananas. Last year I went to Islamabad. I remember the life of Zoe Van Helsing!’ she shouted; her voice rang out again.

Dracula was silent, and somehow that silence helped calm the storm that was raging inside her. Agatha looked around the room, looked at the bed, and at Dracula. She breathed in without a sound. Her body was still agitated, still keenly aware of what they were doing together. How could she do this – with him?

‘You remember the life of Zoe Van Helsing because you were her,’ she heard Dracula's voice. Agatha looked at him incredulously. ‘Her life was real. From the very first day. And at the same time, from the very first day, it was you.’

Getting up, Agatha walked to the balcony and leaned against the glass of the door. She frowned at Dracula.

‘It is believed that reincarnation,’ he said, ‘is always a new personality. In rebirth, a person begins a completely different life. And in most cases, apparently, it is. But it happens... it happens very rarely that the former personality turns out to be so strong that it displaces or does not let the new one in, and a conflict arises between them. I heard about this maybe two hundred years ago from some Arab doctor.

Agatha listened in silence.

‘The problem is,’ Dracula continued, ‘that two consciousnesses cannot get along in one human body. Such a split cannot last forever.’ He made a pause. ‘Have you ever been diagnosed with... what is it called now... cancer?’

‘Some years ago. I was in the hospital. Suspicion of leukemia,’ Agatha said in surprise. ‘Not confirmed. Zoe... I've seen the tests. But Z... I'm not an oncologist. I figured it was just a mistake. Someone confused the tubes.’

Dracula stared at her wordlessly.

‘Now, yes, that's a mistake,’ he said and stood up. In the split second after his words, something changed in his face and gaze, and in the room. Standing in place, Agatha watched him approach, stretches out his hands to her, opens her dressing gown. Already when he is very close, holding her between himself and the glass, raises her hips, and enters, she remembers that he is still naked.

Looking into her eyes, he pushes into her body, hard, rough, and deep. She has nowhere to go, not to hide, she should be disgusted and ashamed, she should be hurt, in the end, but she only moans and, shuddering, leans back.

The despair in his movements melts, smears out, he gets out of her, carries her to the bed. He enters again, leaning on his hands, continues, at the only point in contact with her. Agatha cums from this alone, and sweet spasms are still poured in her – while he lets her go, while he searches for his things, finds them, while dresses and, buttoned-up, walks to the door.

Agatha is unable to move, she feels at the same time heavy and light, but her thoughts and feelings are more clear than ever. She turns and holds out her hand.

‘Don't go.’

[claudiarya]

Hello I’ve written this short fic. based on the clip we’ve got from Shadow and Bone of Jesper and Inej performing, but with a twist!

You can read it on Ao3 as well

Silks, Guns and All the Things Fun (Not) 

Words count: 2898 

The chattering at the Crow Club was thicker than usual and it ricocheted around the lower floor of the building, bouncing off the draped walls. Kaz Brekker made his way there from where he had been dealing cards on the upper part of the club. It had been quite a profitable night, with many pigeons all too eager to let the rush of the gambling go to their head and lose everything. His cane tapped on the stairs as he descended them, an ominous and irregular melody announcing who was coming down those steps. He stopped just before the las two and scanned the room, his shark eyes checking if everything was in order. Kaz saw at least a couple of people flinching when his eyes had met theirs. Good. It seemed that his infamy was the same unblemished, or rather very blemished, story of terror as ever. He had worked all of his angles to make it that way, and he had every intention to keep it up as long as he lived, his thirst for personal revenge too strong to be sated in any other way.

Kaz threw another glance around the room until he found who he was looking for. He approached her, men and women making themselves scarce as he passed them. Inej was in the corner, intent on untangling something thick, the crimson fabric like a river of blood in her hands. Her long hair was tied up in a coil at the nape of her neck as she usually wore it, a light vest covering her shoulders and arms, and peeking from a sleeve he saw something wrapped around her forearm. She had covered her feather tattoo since she was going to remove the vest and perform in bare arms, something that had stirred not little emotions inside the hollow of his armor.  

“I trust that everything is ready,” Kaz rasped, looking down at her from where he was standing. Not surprised in the slightest, as if she had known all along who was about to speak to her, Inej kept her eyes on her task. “Good evening to you, too Kaz. How are you?” Her tone unbothered if a little bit sarcastic…

This girl. If it had been any other person speaking to him like that, they would have run away with a few broken limbs or without teeth. Or perhaps both. Kaz couldn’t understand why, but his relationship, if that could be called, with her had always felt different. Nobody treated him the way she did, he didn’t allow it, but whatever it was that propelled him to always find excuses to talk to her, be near to her when he could, he didn’t like it.

Liar. A voice in his head reprimanded him. him. You keep lying to yourself, Brekker. He blinked. Usually he would have ignored her, but that night he didn’t know what forced possessed him and he decided to indulge her.

“Yes, hello Inej darling. I’ll be better when all of this is over, and we’ve made our profit.”

When the term of endearment had left his lips, she had looked at him with a sonorous sigh. Inej raised to her feet, not really making a difference since she was so small, the red silks now draped on one shoulder, and her eyes peered straight into his. The amber, low lights of this particular floor of the club reflected into her irises, making it look like she had flames burning behind them.

Kaz thought again to himself that she had never looked more like a painted icon of those Saints she so much adored than in that moment and gripped his cane tighter to try and snap out of his reveries, to try and quiet the raging emotions inside. The ridges of the crow’s head unmistakable even under his gloved hands.

“Everything will go as planned: we’ll perform, and we’ll make sure all of these pigeons are probably plucked. Don’t worry.” She passed him, careful to avoid touching him and went to hang the silks she had been preparing.

Kaz promised not to let his gaze follow her but failed. He saw how with a graceful movement she looped one end of the prop into the hook on the wall. Once again, he forced himself not to let his thoughts wander too much and with a slightly louder voice called after her.

“If you’re so ready, where in Ghezen’s name, is Jesper?”

“He’ll be here,” she shrugged not preoccupied at all.

“He’d better be.” He checked his time piece and looking once again at her he said: “We start in five minutes. Go get yourself prepared.”

He heard Inej exhaling loudly. Again. A habit, he realized, she had acquired in these last months. Was it perhaps because she was starting to feel a little more comfortable with this life he had given her, with his gang… with him?

Inej got closer to him, not intimidated at all to look at him straight in the eye.

“I know what I’m doing, but if I’ll be ever looking for a coach, I’ll know who to turn to. Now, excuse me.”

She brushed past him, one instant she was there and then next gone.

***

Fitting how Kaz had found the darkest part of the room to stand in during Jesper’s and Inej’s little show. The sharpshooter had turned up at the last minute, literally the last, when the audience had already gathered around the little space they had arranged specifically for the two of them, and Kaz had already excogitated a hundred different way to kill him. He had of course given a piece of his mind, seething to the gangly boy, who in returned had just shrugged, winked at him and told him that “People love big entrances, I’m making us a favor,” before scurrying to his designated seat at the center of the makeshift stage.

Kaz had come up with this idea months prior, but Inej and Jesper had actually started performing only a couple of weeks ago. He had had to use all of his most convincing arguments to let Per Haskell see how incredibly fruitful this would all be. That old man and his drunken ass…

After many requests from his lieutenant part he had conceded, and Kaz had made it look so as if the leader of the Dregs had had this brilliant idea himself, a thing that had worked out for the best since he had gone strolling around the Barrel boasting how his club was offering entertainments that no other could. A good publicity indeed, and Dirtyhands had smirked pleased with himself, his plan had worked. As always.

His breath caught in his throat when he saw Inej climbing the silks, her fluid movements made it look so easy, as if she was taking a stroll instead of keeping herself up with only her body strength.

“Ladies ang gentlemen, thugs and thieves,” started Jesper walking the perimeter of the free space and catching the attention of the people there. “Tonight you’ll see something that only few would be brave to attempt. My lovely assistant will perform one of her tricks with a card stuck between her lips,” at that the girl in question removed from thin air a card and showed it to the audience, only one part of her body now supporting her, the silks wrapped around it, as the other half hanged from them. “While I will attempt to shoot at it.”

Many gasps could be heard around the room as well as excited whispers.

“Let’s begin!” Jesper said, now with a much more serious tone.

Kaz had to admit it, even if at times Jesper was a total buffoon he knew how to mesmerize an audience, and he had them in the palm of his hands.

The sharpshooter took his position, and removed from the ground a little polished, silver tray. Kaz had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes as Jesper looked at his reflection winked at himself and then kissed his beloved revolver, while exhaling with (fake) preoccupation. Could this boy be more theatrical than that? The Bastard of the Barrel sighed, convinced that there was no end to his second in command’s love for the dramatics. Inej wrapped her limbs expertly in the silks and then with a fearless dive, she let herself fall so that her body was hanging upside-down.

The split second before Jesper could shoot, Kaz’s and Inej’s eye met, and the world seemed to stop for a bit.

He knew damn well that the Zemeni boy was the best shot around, he had never seen him miss. Never. On top of that, he suspected that the little secret he was keeping from everyone, but that Kaz had of course found out about, somehow helped him with his formidable aim. Yet… why in the name of his beloved kruge did he feel nervous for her?

You need to get it together and stop thinking this sentimental stuff. He scolded himself, not for the first time that night.

After a second or perhaps an eternity he moved his gaze away from hers.

Jesper shot and… the bullet struck the card exactly in the middle. The raucous cheering of the audience was what ground him completely again. Inevitably, as if a magnet drawn to the pole, he saw Inej finish her performance with a couple of flips, before landing as effortlessly and elegantly as ever, a big grin on her face. Kaz himself couldn’t help the light movement upward of the corner of his mouth, that died immediately when he noticed how the sharpshooter, now standing, turned around to return the smile, and finally joined her, taking her hand to bow.

That nagging feeling inside him was as demanding as ever. He hated it. He wanted it to stop.

The applause of the people surrounding him turned into a distant sound, as a clear thought struck him then and there. He was never going to have that easy demeanor Jesper had with her, he was never going to be able to take her hand without drowning, he could never tell her that despite all his effort he couldn’t resist the constant pull he felt whenever she was close and that made everything even worse.

Inej’s eyes managed to find his again in his dark corner, the smile she still had lightened her features, but it dropped as soon as she saw what was a very grim expression marking his face.

He wanted to yell. Tell her to keep on smiling, because he felt very much alive whenever she did, like none other things could, but instead he just gripped his cane tighter, and forced himself to look around the room.

When Jesper and Inej approached him after the audience had dispersed a bit, he was still waging his inner war.

“Wasn’t our Wraith amazing?” Jesper asked excitedly, an arm slung around the shorter girl’s shoulders, before adding “Wasn’t I amazing?”

“You just did what you had to. No more no less. And besides, many of these people had already seen this particular performance, so I wouldn’t let all those adoring people get to your head.” He rasped before leaving them standing.

As he made his way to return to the upper level of the Club, he heard the sharpshooter sighing loudly. “You can never win with him, can you?”

“No one can,” was Inej’s curt answer.

He knew her eyes were following him; he could feel it and he never detested more the vindictive and cold creature he had become than now.

***

The Crow Club at that hour of the night, or rather early morning, was deserted. Kaz had ordered the others to go back to the Slat as he stayed behind to make sure everything was in order before close-up. He once again descended the stairs that would bring him to the lower floor, the silks and the other props gone and already been stashed away. As he scanned the room though, he noticed something on the ground, near where the silks were usually hanged. In the dim light he could see it was a piece of dark cloth, and as he got closer, he noticed that it wasn’t just any piece of cloth, but the one Inej had wrapped around her forearm to cover her tattoo. He crouched down, with no little protest from his bad leg, and took it in one gloved hand, the gesture almost reverent.

If someone were to enter the room now, they would have found Kaz Brekker, Bastard of the Barrel, Dirtyhands himself, on his knees cradling a strip of cloth in his hands. He shook his head in disbelief and made to stand up, when CRASH!

Something had fallen and in his fear of having been discovered, Kaz quickly tucked the wrap in his suit pocket as he made leverage on his cane to stand. He saw that what had startled him had been a stool, now on the ground. He passed a hand through his hair in exasperation. He really needed to get a grip.

In the days following Kaz didn’t realize that out of nowhere he would put his hand in his pocket and rub the little piece of fabric between his fingers, a thing that oddly enough always managed to calm him. He didn’t realize it, until he did. It had been a late night in which he had been working for the Dregs and his pathetic excuse of a leader, now scheming, now scribbling and adding numbers. The little thing had been placed on his shambled desk, a trusted companion of his. He had meant to return it, if not to Inej directly, to at least casually leave it where he had found it, but in the end he hadn’t. That night he had sent his Wraith out to gather information regarding a certain mercher’s rich art collection, and he hadn’t almost heard her, almost, entering his attic room from the window. Kaz hadn’t known how he had been able to stash her piece of fabric away before she could see him gently passing it between his fingers.

He only imagined the conversation they would have had if he had taken a second too long to hide it.

You know Inej, I casually found it on the ground but instead of leaving it there I’m keeping your arm wrapping as a stress-relieving token. But it’s not like it may look. I’m not obsessed with you or anything.

Could he be more pathetic than that? Since when had he gone this soft? Oh yes, he knew, ever since he had paid her indenture and she had joined the Dregs, that was when. To make things worse that night had ended with Inej casually sitting on his window seat: her head resting on the wall, her eyes closed. Indefinite and unnamed emotions had stirred once again inside of him, as a very precise, but not really polite word echoed in his head… he was so screwed.

From that moment on he had debated whether to just give it to her and telling her that he had found it but that it had just slipped his mind until then, or continuing keeping the damn thing. A constant battle in his mind that complemented the one inside his heart.

He kept it.

If Kaz was never going to have Inej, as he wished he could, he at least could have a part, no matter how small and insignificant, of her.

That day, his feet carried him on their own accord outside her door, a floor exactly below his room. They had encountered some troubles with some too cocky members of the Black Tips and the whole ordeal had left them all pretty shaken – except Kaz of course – and with two dead members of his crew. Kaz didn’t know why he was standing here, on the other side of her closed door. She might not even be here, he had thought trying to find excuses to turn back from where he had come.

But he knew. He somehow sensed that she was inside her little room.

What exactly was he thinking, what was he doing here as a gaping fish out her door? Did he want to make sure she was okay? See if she needed anything?

Oh yes, because you’ve been nothing but an example of emotional support, Brekker.

When he was about to turn and go back to the attic, cursing himself for his stupidity, the door in front of him opened. Inej stood there, and for once her hair was not tied back but loose on her shoulders, cascading in delicate waves around her frames, the result of having kept it tight in a braid.

“Is anything wrong, Kaz? Why are you standing outside my door as if you’d seen a Saint?” she had asked.

I think I wanted to see you, I’m not sure why and I’m going insane. He thought, but of course didn’t say, too cowardly and bitter to do so. Instead, Kaz quickly put his hand in his pocket, and found what he knew would be there. Gripping her piece of fabric, he managed to answer with his usual lack of emotions.

“Go find Jesper. I found us a job. What would you say to one million kruge?”

[kweebtrash]

Streamhearts Timestamp 12:47am

Title: Nakie Stream

Pairing: Camboy!JohnnyxCamgirlOC (Rem)

Word Count: 4.2k

Genre: Smut

Features: recording sexual acts, daddy kinks, pet names (good girl, bunny, etc), Soft(ish) dom Johnny, use of sex toys, blowjobs, some finger sucking, anal/vaginal fingering, teasing/whining, shy sub OC, anal fucking, choking, swallowing/messy cumshot

Synopsis:

Though Rem is a smart business woman she hides behind a computer screen all day designing websites for large companies. However, when her day is done she’s still behind a computer screen but now showing the world how hard she can cum. She never wanted to be a camgirl but when financial duties called she took it upon herself to make it. The spotlight (and money) got to her and she expanded to showcasing her nerdy side; livestreams, lewd cosplay photoshoots, let’s plays, subscriptions, review, vlogs, tutorials, you name it. Her streams catches the attention of a fellow cammer, Johnny, who on a whim decided to message her. Both aren’t the sexed up dolls they pretend to be in the online life and instead ease their way into a relationship with not so perfect sex, mistakes, and total confusion.

A/N: This used to be on my Kofi which im closing down and just putting everything up on here. This isnt continuing.

Masterlist     Johnny Only Masterlist

~~

"It's time for Nakie Stream!" I giggled as I looked into the camera hooked up to my computer. Dozens of people had already logged on and the number was slowly creeping into the hundreds. I blew kisses and greeted the new arrivals as I showed off my boobs and bounced them a little. Even as I stood around and posed I was getting a few tips. This was all I did it for. I didn't really enjoy it nor did I want to continue doing it for the next ten years of my life. But for now it was another addition to my finances.

I slipped on my pink kitty headphones and connected the bluetooth. The ears lit up, twinkling neon. They were my favorite and I spent some time talking about the specs. Many people would rather just watch me fuck myself but some were actually interested in the fact that I was a "gamer girl™". I hated that title but whatever sold the aesthetic. The truth was that I was indeed a nerd. I had a master's degree in computer sciences and web design, I created websites for companies under an alias and different VPN so nothing would be connected to my other life. The other life, this camgirl/cosplayer/social media influencer/let's player, was my home. I wanted to travel across the country to show off the cosplays I engineered and get my foot in the door to speaking with video game companies through my let's plays. I could sail on that life and would never have to step foot in a retail store or office space again. I would have my own freedom.

I signed softly as a saw a drop in viewers and stopped talking about the headphones. This was the hardest part, being the stupid sex doll for the ones who were only interested in getting off. I turned on the video capture and started up the game so I could properly start my stream. I was just about ready to sit in my gaming chair when I felt warm thighs beneath me. I jumped up and turned quickly, surprised by my boyfriend. He pulled me into his lap, a poised erection parallel to his stomach. He had helped me gain confidence in performing on camera and he was my safety net when we made videos together. I was much more comfortable and relaxed when he touched me. "JJ is joining me today." It was his stupid online nickname because he couldn't think of anything else. "Hope you don't mind. He challenged me to a bet. If I win a few rounds while he's fucking me he will buy me whatever I want, no matter the cost. If I cum or get distracted too much and fail then I get punished in anyway he wants and he'll upload that on his page. I think I can win though. I've spent days awake during releases and playing games straight through so this is nothing."

Johnny scoffed. "You say that now, but just you wait." He set his hands on my hips and turned me away from the camera and let my ass be the center of attention. I bent over and cupped his face gently to plant kisses over his lips while his hands shifted to spread my cheeks apart and show off the heart shaped gem of the butt plug that was nestled inside me. He grabbed a hold of the gem and pulled the plug out slowly, not all the way but just enough to work up some thrusts. I moaned softly, the headphones capturing the sound loud and clear so I could hear it as well as the viewers. The familiar ping of a notification that I received a tip racketed one after the other and Johnny smiled before whispering under his breath. "Blow me for a bit. That'll stall us and give a chance for more people to log on."

I nodded, following his advice and kissed down his bare chest until I reached the junction of his happy trail to the hair above the base of his cock. He turned the chair slightly to adjust the view from the camera and used the small remote beside my computer mouse to move the lens and zoom in more to focus on my face. He was an expert on camera mechanics and even helped me get better equipment for my set up and I had seen my following grow substantially.

I lowered myself to my knees as he spread his thighs apart. Grabbing the base of his cock, he tapped the head against my lips a few times, chuckling on the outside but both of our eyes showed annoyance. We hated doing certain things for the camera but sucked it up anyway. He found the motion stupid while I found it to be a turn off but with my attraction to him outweighed all our discomfort. I parted my lips and slipped his head into the heat of my mouth. The soft moan he let out was definitely a real reaction and I instantly flicked my eyes up to his. His own had closed and his head leaned back against the chair. Gripping what I couldn't fit, I held him steady as I bobbed my head. I swallowed around him and tightened my throat as a slight buck of his hips moved him deeper.

Another moan came, this time from me that was muffled by the invasion. I upturned it into a drawn out exaggeration to add to the stream. Johnny set his hand on the back of my head and kept me close, forcing me to breathe through my nose. "More, baby girl. I know you can do it." He encouraged. I furrowed my brow and tried to calm my gag reflex as I wiggled down more of his shaft. "That's good." He groaned. "That's my good girl."

My cheeks tinged with rose colored fire at the compliment. I held on as he pushed his hips up, dictating a rhythm I was forced to follow as he fell into controlling the situation. I was at his mercy and he knew how to test my limits without going overboard. Deep throating was just another thing we were trying to check off our list but I still struggled to take down his length. He was so perfectly thick and long, nothing over the top or short of disappointment. It was enough to challenge my small body without me crumbling under intense pain. Our size differences, both in height and ratio of his cock to my hole, drove him absolutely stark raving mad. There had been plenty of times where he had to reel himself in before he devoured me completely in a rush of brutal thrusts. But that was exactly what I wanted.

He pulled out of my mouth just as I felt the first drop of precum fall on my tongue. I licked my lips to disconnect the saliva from us-another thing I hated but knew sloppy blowjobs were another aesthetic cash grab. "Get the lube." He commanded with a hard spank to my ass that made me squeak. I trotted away from my desk and rummaged through my nightstand drawer to get the large bottle of lube I had. "And your favorite toy." He added.

I smiled to myself as I pulled out the elongated orb shape of a vibrator that Johnny could control through an app on his phone. He disappeared from the camera view to retrieve his phone before taking his place back in my gaming chair. He guided me to sit on his lap, resting my feet on the armrests so I was spread open. I hid behind my controller a bit as I was too shy to be so splayed out with everything visible. Johnny shoved the controller down right away though, not letting me hide for even a second. I pouted and looked back at him, glaring. He only returned the stare, adding a "what did i tell you?" kind of expression. I exhaled through my nose and pressed start reluctantly. As I was flicking through the menu and character selection I found Johnny's long fingers creeping towards my mouth.

"Open." He demanded and my jaw lowered to accept him again. During a loading screen he thrusted his fingers, pinching at my tongue and stroking the sensitive area at the back of it. My toes squirmed as i wanted to gag but he pulled his fingers forward just before the sensation could worsen. A few more thrusts and he removed them completely, showing off the now glistening skin. He moved between my legs, stroking along my slit and just barely circling my clit. Small tingles started to form in my legs but i was able to concentrate as my battle started. It was nothing special as of now. He just wanted to work up one hole before the other so by the time he was shoved deep in my ass i would be more relaxed. The vibrator always helped in that aspect.

He squeezed a single digit in inside me, his honey eyes looking over me to gauge my reaction. My breath had sped up a little but i kept playing even when his tender lips began decorating my neck in the softest of kisses. I loved when he destroyed me but when he was so gentle it drove me more crazy. His kisses gave my tummy butterflies and I tried to squirm away. His finger only plunged deeper and his other hand gripped a fistfull of hair to keep my head straight, making me wince slightly. My eyes widened and brows furrowed just after as I dodged an attack that almost depleted my character's health. I grew irritated at my lack of assistance from the online players. "FUCKERS!" I shouted. "Do I have to do everything myself?!"

"You're so cute when you're irritated." Johnny chuckled.

"Oh piss off." I scoffed. I wasn't cute, I was dead set on capturing the target come hell or high water.

Johnny didn't seem to like my response as he shoved in another finger quickly. He curled them and fucked me faster then he had been and i almost dropped my controller. I swallowed back a moan and tried not to close my shivering thighs. He would hate that even more. "Make noises." He said into my ear. "Remember what I told you."

"Y-y-yessss!" I hissed. That wasn't faked at all. His fingers were magical and I dug my nails into my controller, scratching into the rubber hand grips.

"What was that?" He smirked as the sound of my wetness started to grow louder alongside the tip notifications. "Use your words."

"S-stooppp." I whimpered and paused the game as I squeezed my eyes shut.

"Giving up already? I've barely just started."

I shook my head quickly and renewed the game,keeping myself determined at the sudden reminder. I thought about what I wanted him to buy me, my end goal and reason for this stupid bet. "N-no. I-im not! I'm not giving up!"

"Oh?" He scooted the chair closer to my desk, still making sure to keep the camera poised perfectly. Reaching for the bottle of lube i had collected, he dabbed a little onto his fingertips. I barely noticed his movements until the cold gel was being circled and pushed inside me. I continued to command myself to ignore it. I had to. I exhaled slowly in an attempt to steady my breath but it hitched as soon as i felt the pressure of the vibrator slowly sink into me.

He didn't turn it on right away. Instead he wrapped his arms around my waist and squeezed me tight while he buried his face into my neck. It garnered more kisses and occasional nibbles that gave me just a few moments to get back to the game. Slowly, he moved his hands to cup my breasts, giving them both a good squeeze before capturing the nipples between his thumbs and index fingers. Gently, he tugged them into stiff peaks and rolled his fingers over the raised flesh to send small jolts of electricity down my neck. Quiet noises were held in by my lips pressed together though Johnny impatient at the fact i wasn’t letting them out. "You're still not making noises." He growled lowly.

"I can't help it! Im not loud!" I nudged my elbow back into his ribs, trying to squirm away as much as I could. He gave a light tap to my clit and pinned his arm around my waist again. I wanted to move now and I was too afraid to as i saw him make a grab for his phone. The familiar graph like control screen popped up and Johnny pressed his thumb to it. A cursor appeared beneath the pressure and at first he kept it low. That was simple enough for me to handle. He faced his phone to the screen, showing what he was doing to the audience. He chuckled as he read through some of the comments in the chat box.

"Even they think youre gonna lose." He said. "You're doing such a shit job, Remmy."

"Shut up! I'd like to see you try it! Maybe you should be the one trying to play while i fuck your ass." I pouted and crossed my arms as it took longer for my dead character to respawn.

"You're always wanting to fuck my ass." I felt the vibrator increase the intensity and my stomach clenched tight. "Maybe we could do another bet and that could be the stipulation but i don't really see you winning that one either."

"It's not over yet! I can still win!" I said with slight uncertainty.

"We'll see, bunny. I'm gonna take the plug out now." Johnny warned as he wrapped his fingers around the gem base. I nodded and leaned into him, begging for a kiss. He satisfied my craving as he slowly pulled the plug out of me, leaving my gape to flex around the emptiness. He tossed it onto the desk with a hard clunk before gripping my chin firmly. My jaw dropped open as he intensified the kiss, forcing his tongue to fill my small mouth completely. I held onto his shoulders to try and support myself as I got light-headed from the lust clouded thoughts that were spiraling in my head. He parted from me with a quick bite to my lip then reached for the bottle of lube again. He repeated the same motion of swiping it inside me as his fingers worked to stretch me even more.

I could relax around two fingers but he soon added a third which stretched me farther than the plug had. With his clean hand he increased the speed of the vibrator on his phone and I yelped helplessly. I saw him smirk through the video feed on my computer and wanted to wipe it off his face. With shaking hands I gripped my controller and resumed my pathetic attempt at playing the game. The vibrations would send sharper shocks throughout me every once in awhile as Johnny made sure i would feel comfortable taking his cock.

My bottom lip was starting to swell as my teeth kept digging into it. My toes were curling against the armrest and my controller vibrated with each bit of damage i was taking. The toys' own vibrations increased and I was nothing but a squirming mess on his lap. "Are you gonna give up, bunny?" He cooed in my ear. "Are you gonna give up and let daddy win? Please be a good girl for me, ok?"

"N-no! That's not fair! I d-dont wa-wa-nnghh-!" I clenched my teeth tightly as I felt a sudden urge to cum wash over me. He was being relentless with his thrusts now, plowing faster and making lewd sounds as the lube squelched against his fingers.

He made the vibrations spike again and I tossed my head back onto his shoulder, begging him to just slow down a bit. He nuzzled against my cheek and kissed my neck. "Look how loud you're getting for me." He turned my head to the computer monitor as he swiped his thumb across my clit. "Show the viewers how pretty my baby is when she wants to cum, hm?"

I flicked my eyes to the screen, embarrassed but wanting to comply so i could cum. If not i'd be stuck in this hell forever. Hundreds of comments were pouring in and i was able to see a number in tips i had never seen before. I swallowed hard and looked at Johnny. "It's going so well." I whispered.

"See what happens when you listen to me?” I nodded, upset that he was right but at least I could pay my bills with the money we earned. “Are you ready for me?”

I swallowed hard as my heart rate escalated. “I..um..” His erection pressed harder into the center of my back. He felt so swollen and even though I wanted to stay strong, the sub in me wanted to take care of my daddy. I nodded and felt his fingers slid out slowly. With his hands on my waist he was easily able to hoist me up with enough space to guide him towards my hole. Carefully, we worked together, me moving down while he thrusted upwards, to have him fill me entirely. My game kicked me back out to the menu screen as I had died again and it questioned if I wanted to continue. It stayed in limbo, not receiving my decision as my ass had touched the top of Johnny’s thighs and his lips had overcome mine. He scooted down in the chair, giving himself more ease of access to thrust.

The first few motions were careful, paired with a plucking of my nipples and an occasional clit rub. It wasn’t until I started grinding back on him did he increase his speed, pulling out almost completely before shoving himself back inside with a harsh speed. Our whimpers and groans were muffled by our tongues colliding over and over. In between the warm presses of his lips, his tongue would slip out to lap at mine or he would place love bites against my bottom lip. With dreamy and heavy lidded eyes I watched the small contortions of his facial features as his pleasure increased. When his mouth would drop open slightly to release nothing but a strained sound or when his brows furrowed with the intensity of my grip around him, i would drink it in, in love with everything about him.

As I squeezed my walls around him tighter, his hand ascended from the softness of my belly, to between my breasts, and finally to wrap around my neck. My muscles went rigid and my breath strangled. His fingers were formed into a grip that was growing tighter and tighter. I dropped my controller, letting it fall to the floor and found solace in dragging my nails into the plush pads of the armrests. The sound it created seemed to echo in the headphones as my mind transformed into lusty swirling thoughts. The dull burn of his girth inside me started to disintegrate but my stomach still churned with the fantastical feeling of his cock shoving against my insides. “Roll your hips.” He commanded me.

I couldn’t nod but showed my submission by moving my feet onto his thighs and lifting my body slightly. I circled my hips around the head of his cock, concentrating all the strength I could muster into the most sensitive of places. “Fuck, that’s good, angel.” His head fell back and his fingers pulsed their strength around my neck, giving me moments to hiccup in tiny breaths. My thighs burned and my knees buckled as my hold on the armrests made my knuckles splatter with the white color of straining. As he saw my body buckling he wrapped his free arm around me and hauled himself onto his feet. With the hand on my neck he tossed me into the gaming chair, making it skid across the floor a foot or two.

My eyes watered as i looked up at his; darkened and dilated with the idea of ruining me further. The veins in his arms dispersed beneath his skin, deepening into a soft blue hue as he clenched his fists around the armrests now, keeping the chair in place. He pulled the chair forward allowing him to slam back into me. The sound I left out was a mix between a squeak and a scream giving the satisfaction of me being loud on camera like he wanted. Ignoring the way a few tears streaked along the tops of my cheeks from the overwhelming stimuli, he rolled the chair backwards, repeating his motions of dragging me forward to fall into a pattern of ruthless thrusts. I had never regretted getting my gaming chair until this very moment. How he found the simplest household items to torture me with I’ll never know but he sure knew how to make sure I wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow. I held onto his arms as my back arched and body squirmed and I was unsure if I could hold back any longer. “Give up?” He chuckled darkly. “Just say the word. You’ve already barely played a round and kept dying so I think it’s a given that I’ve won.” he taunted.

If this was the torture during the bet I feared what his punishment for me would be later on. It was too late to change the way I felt and I was already falling into a subspace that needed to be filled with his cum. “D-daddy…” I cried softly.

“Say it.” He worked in another rushed thrust. “I wanna hear you say it.”

I pressed my lips together and clawed at his forearms. My stomach clenched harder and my toes curled, pulling the tendons taught and shooting cramps up my legs. “Fine! Fine! You win! Please let me cum!!!”

Johnny turned to the camera and stuck his tongue out, adding a peace sign, in victory. “Guess you guys get a little punishment video soon.” He leaned down and gave me a soft kiss. “Go on, bunny. It’s okay.”

I let out a small sigh of relief and imagined he would continue his thrusts but instead he reached for his phone one last time. He turned the vibrator up on full strength and I gave in then, growing louder as my cum showered the seat of the chair and onto the carpet below. The tense contractions of my orgasm caused the vibrator to crash to the floor, the buzzing rattling against it. Johnny shut it off completely and waited until i was curled up and suffering from aftershocks to grab a fistful of hair and pulled my head up. “Ahh.” He said.

“I want it in-inside.” I shuddered.

“Nope, that’s for girls who win bets. Open.”

I reluctantly opened my mouth, unhappy with his choice, and watched his large hand stroke over his heated skin just above my tongue. His fist worked faster and faster and his eyes fell shut. He kept my head in place and the sweet heat of his cum covered my tongue, sliding down my chin and dripping onto my chest. I swallowed and licked up as much as I could, even lapping at his slit to make sure he gave me everything he had. Once he relaxed, my hair was let go and i sat back in the chair. I swiped my finger across my chin and licked the last bit of cum that I missed. My legs fell as my body slumped; I better get a bath and cuddles after this, I thought, a pout sprouting on my lips. Johnny made up some quick exit greeting and shut off the cameras and bright ring lights. “You ok?”

“I’m sleepy and sore and want cuddles and a bath.”

He smiled and picked me up from the chair, wrapping my legs around him. “I will make you a bath and give you all the cuddles you want, okay?” I nodded and buried my face in his neck as he walked us to the bathroom. “But to be honest, you were such a good girl today. I’m proud of you for being louder and showing your face more.”

I squeezed my arms around his neck, trying to hide as much as I could for my cheeks were burning crimson. He could be rough but also sweet and docile when he took care of me. I loved him so much it almost hurt. “Can you say thank you?” he asked as if I was a child that had forgotten their manners.

“Thank you, Daddy.” I mumbled against his skin.

He rubbed my back before setting me down on the toilet seat cover. “I’ll let that one slide. I can tell you’re sleepy.”

“You’re gonna stay the night, right?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but with you.”

[honestsycrets]

Little Crow [ Ivar x Niece!OC (Platonic), Ivar x POC!Reader ]

❛ pairing | ivar & sigurd’sdaughter!niece (father figure relationship), implied!ivar x POC!reader, thora x hvitserk x amma

❛ type | platonic, family oriented oneshot

❛ summary | after ivar murders sigurd, his guilt keeps him from keeping his niece. but-- he can’t help himself from trying to crawl back into her life.

❛  tags | verbal arguments, osteogenesis imperfecta issues, fighting, referenced death, referenced murder, orphan child, adoptive mother, adoptive relationships, family dynamics, mention of polygyny.

❛ sy’s notes | this fic implies Bjorn sailed away to Sweden after avenging Ragnar, Aslaug does not die. 

In everything, anger is a release of tension. That is as true for cooking instruments as life. Water boils with the anger of a flame and chucks its lid off to release itself all over the kettle or pot. Likewise, the moment the axe left his hand, Ivar felt the rush and the release of tension. It was gratifying. It was what he wanted. For it all to stop.

“Are you sure?”

He looks back, once, past the flickering flame to the little hands pushing and prodding her pale skin. She looks happy here, free of the realization of a few months ago, before the sail back to Kattegat, before Bjorn sailed away to Sweden, before the accident. There is security in a warm longhouse with nothing but beautiful, strong women. Here she could learn.

Ivar kisses her palm and doesn’t look back.

For her coming of age, he sends her a gift. It’s quiet. Until it isn’t.

“She’s renamed her Aslaug,” his mother came into the throne room one day, standing before him with soft eyes as he sat in his mother’s chair. Ivar bounced clicked his fingers along the arm of the chair.

“Ironic,” he noted, and his hand dropped from his lip. “She has your old name.”

“The crows come to see her.”

Odin is taking care of her. Ivar hmphs, a small noise, almost unmoved until his mother steps up to set her hand on his shoulder. It stings different. “Why don’t you go see her? She is very beautiful.”

He’s not sure if it’s his niece she’s talking about-- or the carer out in the fields. It’s better this way. Less of a risk for her to be involved with such a family. Ivar stares, plain and long, trying to isolate why his mother was speaking like this.

“Why are you pushing me?”

Her lips curl into a knowing smile. She heads down from the throne to the backrooms.“I’ve invited them to eat dinner.”

Fantastic.

Mother was right. She is beautiful. he can’t tell which of the women he’s speaking about.

The young girl, who is no more than twelve, with cool blue eyes plagued with the spiral of jörmungandr, or her mother who isn’t really her mother. Not in the flesh, anyway. Her skin is far too pigmented, her eyes too deep to belong to the sea serpent, but maybe the deepness and depth of the soil that nurtured the chunk of a pig on his plate.

“--I came after Ragnar’s victory in Paris,” he catches the tail end of the statement. His father’s name is old but familiar. He hasn’t been back from Europe so long.

“That was not so long ago.”

“It’s long if you’re a slave.” There was nothing he could say to that. “Thank you for that Ivar.”

What you mean to say, is for the coin that set you free, from Ivar’s pocket. He took a little more than he should have after his father came back. Perhaps it wasn’t with just this in mind-- but who knew when a young boy like him would come upon such money again? At the very least, he put it to good work.

“I can’t stand to see beautiful women as slaves.” He gestures, and you tease him further, that if you were ugly he would not?

No, he reminds you, women are his soft spot. He’s kissed more than one woman’s hand-- and they weren’t all young. “He’s a woman’s man,” Aslaug brought her knuckle to his high cheekbones. Little Aslaug stares off in annoyance between the bantering, complaints of how he had no wife-- and maybe, a tease at the prospect in the future.

“In its time,” he remarks to the two of you. Ivar sat idly chewing on it when his eyes caught with little Aslaug’s across the table. Her eyes flicked down, to his plate, then up again. “Still hungry?” he asks lowly, a soft draw with gentle eyes.

She reaches for it. It being his plate and drags it over to sit in front of her. Your idle chatter with Queen Aslaug is cut off by the abruptness of the motion when you set your eyes on Ivar’s. “Aslaug.”

“No, no.” Ivar waves, reaching for a chunk of fruit. “I am not so hungry today.”

“You know better than that.”

“And why?” Aslaug pulls a strip of meat off the meat. She looks at him past the wave of her long brown hair tumbling to her flat chest. “He sent me away. He should be so lucky to have me here with him.”

Aslaug leans over. Ivar-- if he could have given her a look sooner-- might have stopped what was about to come from his mouth. “He sent you away to save you. Mismanaged girls don’t often grow into women.”

“If you’re their mother, they don’t. I grew up just fine on my mother’s farm. No drownings, or almost drownings, or visions of hurricanes. No cursed mothers of the water.” Little Aslaug flicks her bone onto the plate, bobbing her head in a way that seems to be just like looking in the reflection of a golden plate, right back at him.

Aslaug reclines back in her chair.

There’s nothing you can say. In the absence of words, you lean over and press a kiss to her soft hair. Little Aslaug turns to your long braids, pushing the wooden beads away from her, because there’s something she wants to say-- and she’d say it. She was like her father, like her uncle. It’s something that he quickly realizes when she mutters something he can’t understand and leans over that long table, her crutch under her arm.

“I needed you and-- you sent me away. Like shit under your mangled legs.” When she hobbles out, leaning into her metal crutch, Ivar is left with a closed fist and a dozen questions. You spare him a look of pity on your way after her.

“I need help.”

Sigurd never needed help. Not from him. Not from really, anyone. It happened long ago that he stopped asking for help. So when the news came, he wasn’t altogether sure what he was hearing from his brother. Only that he knew what it was about.

When he set his little niece down, Ivar knew. She couldn’t even move.

“Set her down,” Ivar gestured toward the ground. Dusty, but clean for him to crawl upon. She’d broken her legs not once, or twice, but thrice. Once on the ground, he knew that the little girl was scared to move. So he showed her how, limp legged and tense armed, he dragged himself a hundred times around her.

And she giggled. And for the first time in a long time, Ivar and Sigurd laughed together.

He could have walked away. Theoretically, of course. Pretend he doesn’t have a niece. Or anyone. But he finds himself plagued with the knowledge of abandonment and reflecting on his own abandonment. And that’s how he ends up in the merchant’s square, looking for the particular women.

Ones that brought up other women’s children with long draping skirts, braids woven tighter than the fates written by the Norns, and baskets carrying goods upon their heads. Moorish, beautiful women.

“Sorry,” his brother Hvitserk slides by, jumping jovially beside him. The many different groups of Kattegat all traded in harmony. The ones of the east with the ones of the south, the ones native to home. Hvitserk bounces while walking backward. “Brother! Amma and Thora say they trade beads at the edge of the marketplace.”

“Why do you even have two wives,” Ivar grumbles, jutting his crutch into the soft ground, holding his hand over his muscular leg for balance. “Is one not tiring enough?”

“I have love to give.” Hvitserk rattles his laughter. “Why should I close myself off to another?”

“And one can’t be deserving enough?” If it were him-- he’d surely love one, and only one, because that was the sort of man he was. He doesn’t need more. He would have all that he needed and that would be enough.

“Your trouble is that you haven’t fucked enough,” Hvitserk says pointedly. “If you fucked that woman from the other day--”

“This isn’t about her.”

“You wouldn’t be so wound up all the time. Here you are attacking me, for instance.”

Ivar doesn’t respond. At one time, maybe, he thought that he could have it all and more. He could be happy with a wife with fifty children and that would be good for him. Now that it wasn’t… feasible, he supplies in his mind, this should be enough for him.

They kick up dirt as they arrive into the hearth of the marketplace. Honey, furs, slaves. Those were the good things there. His interest was less so in the simple things and more with the luxurious items at the very edge of the trade center. Expensive things like beads, jewelry, clothes. Things you traded on your rich red throw on the ground.

“Two Ragnarssons this time, I must have the blessing of Frigg this cycle.” You sat among young children, retelling a story he’s cut in on while weaving beads into a blonde-haired woman’s hair. “Something tells me you aren’t here for me.”

“You might be correct.” Ivar looks among the heads of young girls. Light-skinned, dark-skinned. Blonde hair, orange hair, black hair. None look like his little niece. “Where is Aslaug?”

“Searching a new name.”

“Alone?” he demands.

You pull a loose golden strand through your fingers. Then, looking up, you laugh at him. “You make for an overbearing father.”

Warmth floods into his cheeks. You whisper something into the ear of your daughter selling beads, and she drags them off to the side. With a pat of the blanket, Ivar slides beside you. “I’ll let you know something, Ivar, for when you have a child of your own. There are some times you press them…”

“Or dress them up,” your customer looks over. The orange beading seems to pronounce her slight freckles dotting over her cheeks and around her eyes, sunspots that indicated she worked outside the home on occasion.

“Or know when to leave them alone.”

Hvitserk shifts his weight onto one leg and shrugs. “Women are complicated,” he gestures. “Girls too.”

“You aren’t someone she wants to see.”

“I’ve gathered,” Ivar says, bringing his hand to his temple, rubbing the stress free. “I should never have sent her away.”

“You shouldn’t have.” He bows his head and looks over the soft beads. He finds himself comparing which would look the best, and you seem to know, running your fingers over the rich green that reflects like bits of grass. “But you can make it right. I would take… six of these. Fashion her a necklace. Go see her in the valley where the crows gather.”

“I don’t take it you’re giving them to me?”

“Not men,” you quip playfully, patting him square in the middle of his chest.

“No deals for men!” the young girls tease all around. He supposes, in a place made up of beautiful women, that he has no choice but to be cheated out of his coin. Hvitserk crouches at eye level, picking out two for his wives. “I’ll cash in that favour now.”

Make that eight.

What you failed to tell him was just how far this so-called valley was. His legs began to ache sorely with the calibers weighing down every step. His legs hurt, his hand hurts from supporting his wealth of muscle, and so does his head with the memory of what little Aslaug had said. In the dusty grey sky, crows fluttered overhead. Their black bodies obscure what little light peers through fat bulging clouds.

It was a day like this, not too long ago -- at least in his memory, that the accident happened. Not his loss of control or the flare-up of anger that transferred from father to uncle, to niece. But a grey day of crawling through the valley with legs that did not work and a storm that was too sudden. The sodden ground led to a sick two-year-old-- and a sicker, plump wife. Not his wife, that was.

“If you can’t keep her safe, don’t keep her at all.” It was those words, mixed among a heated exchange, that stuck with him. He sat dripping water on the new planks of Sigurd’s bedroom-- looking toward where Sigurd disappeared with his giggling girl. Sigurd meant that.

“You’re thinking too much.” Hvitserk is kind of like a bird. The kind of bird that you want to knock out of a tree when he’s following you, chirping obvious things, even when he wasn’t asked. Not that my opinion matters but… Or I think you’re an idiot… the usual.

“Shut up, Hvitserk.”

They find her in a clear valley where the bones and the spears of decades past are still lodged into Midgard. Hvitserk glances between the remnants of a long old battle, scavenger hunting for goodies, while Ivar ascends the hill. She’s more your daughter than his, Hvitserk says, because he’s so much help.

There she was at the top of the hill. Her arms were folded, a scowl slapped across her face, deepening with his every drag to an eventual stop beside her. He collapses at last beside her and sets his crutch across his tired legs.

“Mother sent you to find me.” She states. There’s a crow between her thin legs. That makes sense. She pets its head.

“Hm?” Ivar reclines back on his forearms. “Not this time. Something about space.”

“Like I said. Mother sent you to find me.”

So maybe you did. Ivar came to that helpful realization with a necklace wrapped around his wrist and a much lighter pocket. You’re no con woman, but you aren’t a stupid woman either. He reminds himself that a woman-- a once was slave -- was a crafty woman when looks alone just wouldn’t roll the stone.

“Do you hate it?”

“Maybe.” She answers quickly. “I don’t know why she wants me to see you. You--”

“--sent you away. I know. I thought I did it for you. Maybe I--” he pauses then, searching, thinking. “Did it for me.”

“I never would have guessed.”

Ivar unwinds the necklace from his wrist, staring at the beads as if they were bones he could shake-up for the right answer, like a seer. Instead, he finds himself asking why when she interrupts. “It’s one thing to kill my father.”

He glances up.

“I think… all of Kattegat knew one of you would kill another. So I hear from my mother. Baby, and all.” She says pointing to all of herself. “It’s one thing to do that. Another thing to abandon me.”

“Would you have preferred to have no mother?”

“No,” she clicks her tongue, turning her head away. “I love my mother. All of us do. She is much better than my grandmother. But you left.”

It’s a statement he doesn’t imagine he’ll stop hearing soon. Ivar rubs his temples and turns on his side just as she tugs her legs around, heavy in the calibers he had sent her for her coming of age, the thing that incited everything. He leans over, fisting the necklace, and sets it in her hands.

“Forgive me then, Aslaug.”

“Kraka.” She takes the necklace, fitting it around the crow’s head, who strangely doesn’t move. He must be seeing things now because she fits it under her arm like a ball and stands to her feet. “I want to be called Kraka. Now hurry up. With your legs, we won’t be home before the rain falls.”  

Its a different name, one that she’ll probably change again and again. Or maybe none at all. Maybe, he thinks, this is what being a parent to a young girl is. Finding himself in the same way she found herself. He doesn’t feel so angry now.

“I hate to remind you, but yours are no different, Kraka.”

And somewhere, in the field, Hvitserk chirps-- I found a coin!

@tephi101 @alicedopey @supernaturalvikingwhore @tootie-fruity @titty-teetee @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @ethereallysimple @deathbyarabbit @deathbyarabbit @readsalot73 @natalie-rdr @lol-haha-joke @lisinfleur @hissouthernprincess @marvelousse @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol @vikingsmania @wish-i-was-a-mermaid @lif3snotouttogetyou @gruffle1 @cris101071 @gold-dragon-slayer @babypink224221 @wonderwoman292 @naaladareia @beyond-the-ashes @generic-fangirl @chinduda @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope @cris101071​ @daughterofthenight117 @unassumingviking @ladyofsoa, @inforapound @winchesterwife27 @feyrearcheron44@readsalot73 @squirrelacorngliterfarts @gold-dragon-slayer​ @medievalfangirl @sallydelys  @bluearchersstuff @affectionrabbitt​ @whatamood13 @notyouraveragegirl17 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @unacceptabletatertots @ivarandersen @stra-vage @tgrrose @cookies186 @learninglemni-blog @theleeshanotlouise @soiproclaim @msmorganforever

[im-gayer-in-french]

Why having an adult, textually bi character mattered to me, a woman who figured out she was bi while binge watching supernatural as an adult: a mega thread.

A fictional character can teach you a lot about yourself. You love and identify with their good qualities, sure, but I think the part you really resonate with is their flaws. For me, Dean Winchester was a window into my life that I was not always comfortable with. He lied constantly to shield his vulnerabilities, he misplaced his anger and often took it around out on the people closest to him, he repressed what he wanted for what people told him he should be, he was forced to grow up too fast and take on the role of a parent when his own failed, and his self-worth was so low that he contemplated suicide at multiple points in the show.

So when I was at my most depressed, my most repressed, and seethed with a self destructive anger I could not define, I picked up supernatural again. And again. Coming back to it over and over like the warmth of a blanket on a chilly November morning. Through him I learned to temper out my toxic edges and through him, I began to hate myself a little less.

Bisexual Awakening is a funny thing. You don't really have a moment of euphoria were the light bulb pops up over your head and suddenly the whole world makes sense. It's more of a quiet thing that in the moment doesn't seem very big. You realize you're #not-as-strait-as-you-thought-you-were, go "yeah that makes sense". Then spend the next year of your life revisiting all formative memories and going "oh. Oooooooh. I might have been a little in love with my best friend in high school."

Coming out though... is frustrating. There's no one big moment of coming out, it's a hundred conversations you have with a hundred different people. In the first couple months of coming out I was met with 1) a solicitation for a 3-way(ew) 2) a long speech about how I would have to choose a side of the fence eventually 3) a LOT of really stupid questions but I couldn't actually get mad at because I had asked all the same things in high school 4) speeches about immorality 5) hurtful assumptions by other queer people 6) deafening silence.

You know the one that hurt the most? The empty, hollow silence.

My mom and I used to watch supernatural together (she's a Sam girl by the way). She loved relationship between Dean and Castiel but always handwaved any time drifted into shipping territory as "why can't men ever be friends". I don't remember if it was during one of these conversations that I first told her I was bi, because my memory does not work linearly and I have told her so many times that they have all begun to blend together into a white haze. I know at least that it was among the first. But I told her and I was met with nothing.

I had prepared myself for anger, for disgust, to be kicked out of her house immediately (I mean she had once over a conversation about abortion, so it wouldn't have been surprising) but I had never considered that she would have nothing to say. It's been nearly 4 years now and she still has never come close to acknowledging that I am not the straight, God fearing daughter that she expected me to be. Every time a conversation brings it up, it is changed. She packs me away into a box, her eyes slide over pride stickers and bright colored wristbands as if they do not exist. And I feel like sometimes, I don't exist. Not to her anyway. Nor is she the only one who speaks to me with their fingers in their ears.

And it makes me furious that they can do that. Because I can pass as a straight person they never have to acknowledge anything beyond that. They can put me in a little box and stick it on a shelf. I can see the relief in their eyes when I talk about my boyfriend, because if I'm not actively dating a woman, they can pretend I'm not queer. They come so close to the truth and look away because it's not something they want to see. Bi people are scary, I think, because we hit a little too close to home. It's easier to accept a black and white version of gay or straight because it gives you a clear "this is what I am and this is what I'm not" mentality so you don't have to look too closely at it. You bat for a single team. But bisexuality blurs the edges. It makes you question where you fall and I think a lot of "straight" people are afraid of the answer.

So when I talk about bi-erasure, it is not from a place of ignorance or assumptions. It comes from a place of quiet pain. Years of hurt and shame, and a desire to scream. I know that I'm not the only one.

That's why it matters so much that Dean was silenced, that the final episodes of supernatural, which had for so long developed the relationship between Castiel and Dean along the sidelines, brought them front and center only to abandon them at the last minute. Castiel's confession is ignored by the narrative, his character brought back by a throwaway line in the final episode. His sacrifice and love are never acknowledged. DEAN is never allowed to acknowledge them. We are being told to ignore years of subtext because we are not allowed to see Dean as anything but the hyper-masculine soldier, wooer of women and lover of pie of the surface text. "Don't look too close" the show is telling us. The swathes of gray look like a fine line from far away.

[otterplusharchive]

rey! do you have any recs for kdramas? i have never watched any, but i like lovable characters and romance ? thank you in advance!

I DO IN FACT HAVE DRAMA RECS HII not all of these will be kdramas, but ill start with the kdramas ive watched and enjoyed and ill include all the warnings for them that i can remember off the top of my head and a brief synopsis for u!

kdramas-

1. weight lifting fairy kim bok joo

this was probably one of the first kdramas i saw people post about in like 2015 and i watched a little bit of it in 2016 but then only just got around to finishing it last year. the basic gist of it is its about a young sports college weight lifter, kim bok joo, centering around her navigating through her life and trying to figure out who she is and what she wants in life and what she wants to be. her romantic interest in the show is a swimmer and they have a sort of rivals to friends to lovers, he is SO in love with her and its adorable. i absolutely loved the side characters in this show theyre all so fun and kim bok joos best friends and weight lifting team are especially delightful. my main warning would be that this show addresses eating disorders and theres a lot of mention of both weight gain and weight loss, theres also a plot point early on where kim bok joo has a crush on her eventual love interests older brother but it gets resolved and the older brother literally goes "i didnt realize you had a crush on me and if i knew that i wouldnt have been so friendly with you, it would be completely innapropriate for us to be in a relationship". overall its a really sweet and emotional fun show but if you have issues with weight talk id skip this one

2. tale of the nine tailed

this one is really recent from last year and i didnt expect to be so hooked by it but boy howdy did i get attached to all the characters and the wild plot. it feels hard to explain the plot but basically a nine tailed fox named lee yeon is living in modern day seoul and is working for the underworld finding paranormal spirits/creatures/other rogue foxes that are causing havoc on the world, hes resigned himself to living this life while waiting for his girlfriend who died tragically 600 years ago to come back to life because he traded his status as a mountain god in order to ensure that her soul would one day be reincarnated. a plucky investigative journalist named nam ji ah figures out that hes not human and shenanagins ensue because she looks exactly like his dead girlfriend oooooo whatll happen. the plot beyond that gets really wild and its hard to explain and is easier to just watch. if u enjoy paranormal adventures this one is good. my one big complaint and issue with this is that the immortal mountain spirit meets his original girlfriend when shes a child and she continues to visit him off and on as she grows up which is Hm I Dont Like That! but thankfully the present time romance our female lead meets him when shes about 30 if im remembering right. also warnings for general fantasy violence, references to child abuse, animal death, and abandonment issues

3. extraordinary you

HUGE unreality warning for this. if you have issues with feeling unreal or have paranoia/delusions about not being a real person id avoid this one just because of its premise

ok i know i said tale of the nine tailed was a hard plot to explain but BOY extraordinary you is even HARDER to explain. because its so wild but so good. its about a girl who realizes that she is literally a side character in a comic book, and the story becomes her trying to change the story to save her character from dying but it becomes a lot more than that. the romance in this is literally tooth achingly sweet and the show itself is very pretty, i loved the side characters in this one and the show was engaging and interesting to watch it became really layered and meta. super reccomend this one honestly. my main issues/warnings that i can remember off the top of my head were just one character being the classic controlling boyfriend stereotype, bullying someone specifically for being poor, unreality like i mentioned before, and then at the very end there was this love interest for a side character who got reincarnated from a past piece of writing that they had been in and put in the comic but she was a student and he was the school cook which is weird but thankfully they like barely interact at all and theres no real romance he just like recognizes her and its barely a thing at the end of the show but its still weird

4. mystic pop up bar

big warning for suicide, sexual harrasment (which is framed as being bad and the guy whos harrassing the girl literally gets thrown off a roof)

i havent finished this one yet and thats mainly because im not emotionally ready because this one makes me soooo emotional. if you like found family this is a good one. its about a pop up bar run by a woman whos been tasked with solving the problems of a certain amount of people in order to atone for her crimes in the past before dying, shes able to enter the dreams of people and solve their issues using the information she gets in the dreams. paranormal shenanagins ensue, she acquires a son and a husband and it kills me its so fun and quirky and fun despite handling dark themes and peoples problems. also very sweet the found family murders me

5. kingdom (netflix original)

i literally am not going to be able to watch any other zombie media because kingdom and train to busan are the best pieces of zombie media ive ever seen. warnings for gore and violence and just general horror aspects.

i absolutely love this one its so thrilling and well done, i love the acting and the way that this show looks its absolutely gorgeous. a zombie plague breaks out in joseon period korea where the emperor has died and then was brought back to life by the queen and her father in a ploy to try and keep their family in political power, the crown prince must find answers. a lot more happens and its very dramatic and good i love the characters in this one

cdramas

1. the untamed. if you follow me and you havent watched the untamed im begging you to watch the untamed. literally one of the most beautiful stories ive experienced in my life i am not joking when i say i cried multiple times over it. the main characters are canonically gay in love and have a son together please watch the untamed. handles a lot of dark themes, heres a tw guide

2. the sleuth of the ming dynasty

this is another one i havent finished but its fun so far, very gay, found family, food, and solving murder mysteries during the ming dynasty

3. hikaru no go (also known as qi hun)

havent finished this one, there is some propaganda about hong kong in the first episode but as far as i know thats the only instance of something like that in the show

this ones about the game go and so far its very sweet and fun, local boy awakens a ghost who was a master of the game of go hundreds of years ago and eventually is persuaded to learn how to play go with the aid of the ghost. im really liking this one so far its very cute and i love the characters in it. if youve watched the untamed nie huaisangs actor ji li is in this one!

4. the legend of yunqian

this ones very short and on youtube, all the episodes are about 5 minutes long and its a lesbian time travel fantasy adventure with a happy ending! funny and cute

jdramas

1. cherry magic

please please please watch cherry magic. the premise sounds very much like a weird yaoi kind of thing but trust me on this. trust me. it is so heart warming and sweet and i was so emotional about it and the growth of the main character.

adachi gains the power to read peoples minds on his 30th birthday based off a urban legend that if youre a 30 year old virgin that youll become a wizard. after gaining this power he accidentally finds out that his extremely popular and handsome coworker has a crush on him, and shenanagins ensue along with adachi having blossoming feelings in return. this show was really refreshing in a lot of ways, adachi is a main character who like.. is unsure of himself and insecure in a very kind of realistic way, he closes himself off and is afraid to reach out to people and through the course of the show we see him slowly come out of his shell and realize that hes likeable and lovable and that people want to be around him and its so nice to see. my main complaint about this show is that i dont really like the background couple, but otherwise this is a very sweet and refreshing gay romance that has a happy ending!

some others that i myself havent seen but that ive seen people talk about a lot and that i want to watch eventually:

- the legend of fei (cdrama)

- the wolf (cdrama)

- gaurdian (cdrama, not the kdrama one called goblin)

- healer (kdrama, i did watch some of this one but it was in 2016 and i never finished it so i barely remember any of it but i do remember liking it)

- nobody knows (kdrama)

- its ok to not be ok (kdrama)

sorry this is so long but i hope youll be able to find a drama u enjoy!!

[aclosetfan]

hi so like

“i saw this and thought of you immediately”

if you want to for any ship HDHDHDHDHD

@over-under-through1 Okay, so, I gave ya greens last time, and you said ANY ship, so I decided to give my rare pair some love. And it’s just sweet pure brain rot. Anyway, as always, thanks for the prompt!!! 

Prompt: “I saw this and thought of you immediately” from the prompt list of ways to say “I love you” without actually saying it 😊 that whole list makes me go soft. Pairing: brick/bubbles 

Word count: 4696// this was supposed to be a drabble :)))))

Summary: I’ve got nothing witty to say. Bubbles just gives our boy a gift and he almost hemorrhages. 

(Bubbles’ love language would totally be gift-giving based on how crafty she is, my love language is definitely NOT gift giving so I hope this isn’t horrible)

Brick licked chip crumbs from his fingers as he flipped through the tv. On the floor, next to the recliner he had deemed his for the afternoon, his journalism partner—one seemingly disgruntled Blossom Utonium—was busy organizing their project into five hundred million different tasks. She was dividing them evenly, and despite her warnings and threats, he had already resigned to do his two hundred and fifty million assigned mini-steps last minute like usual. It was the same song and dance they did for every project they were paired up for, which was incredibly often and, frankly, not by choice, though now, he supposed he'd be a bit insulted if she went and picked a new partner after everything they had been through together.

Investigative Journalism 302 was supposed to be another blowoff class he had decided to take solely for the credits. Still, when it became clear to the professor that Brick wasn't going to be taking their class seriously, they had gone out of their way to ruin his life and pair him with Blossom Utonium. Despite the good A-quality content they churned out, it had not been an easy go around the first few times they had been paired together. They were too similar and too different in all the worst ways. She was too type-A to his type-B, and they were both too stubborn to admit when they were wrong. But, him and Blossom both had a penchant for sticking their noses in places they shouldn't, so somewhere along the line—probably around the time they had broken into More Co. to follow a lead and diffused a hostage situation at the Mayor's Manor—they figured it was easier to be friends, not enemies.

They were chalking up to be Townsville's resident Sherlock and Watson, except they both fancied themselves Sherlock and the other Watson, but, eh, what relationship was perfect?    

This time around, they were investigating some strange chemical. The only lead they had come from Blossom's own father. He had apparently said something "cryptic" over Sunday brunch that had launched Blossom into overdrive. Eavesdropping on one of her old man's telephone conversations, she had listened to him mutter about the letter X, failed mutations, a strict deadline, and an explosion that may or may not have been the same explosion at the 'abandon' smelting factory two weeks ago.

She took the information personally since it involved her father, but Brick had met the man before and didn't think there was an evil bone in his body. The lab he worked for, though, was an entirely different story. H.I. Mechanics was one hundred different kinds of shady.

Three days from now, Blossom had decided that he would need to have the, again, two hundred and fifty million preliminary tasks done before their big stakeout. She’d be lucky if he decided to do three of them, but he entertained her ramblings anyway because the longer he stuck around her place, the longer he got to bum her cable.

That had become their routine. Meet at Blossom's place, let her rant like an anal madwoman, ignore her in favor of the reality trash tv that he loved but could not afford at his own apartment, and then have whatever painstakingly thought-out plan Blossom had concocted backfire on them in the near distant future. The process was like clockwork.

"—and if we go in at that time, really, why would they refuse us entry? The records we're looking for should technically be public record, though they're no doubt redacted. We're going to have to—you're not listening to me, are you?"

"Yeah," he hummed, more focused on the reality tv season wrap-up reunion he was watching, then whatever she was talking about, "that sounds good."

"So, you're not." She snipped, and the tone of her voice caught his attention.

"Huh?" He glanced at her for a moment before looking back at the tv, "Not what?

"Listening to me." She gave him a cross look, stepping in front of the tv, "You're not listening to me.

"Whaaa?" He tried sounding offended as he attempted to shoo her out of the way, "Noooo, what gave you that impression?"

"Listen," she snapped her fingers in front of his face a few times, and he felt his face scrunch up in distaste—he wasn't a dog, "both of my sisters are going to be home soon, and I don't want them to get mixed up in all of this, so we need to drill out the details of this plan before they get home!"

Blossom lived with her sisters—Buttercup, and Bubbles—in a two-bedroom apartment close to the University in downtown Townsville. All three went to TownU, which wasn't too surprising to Brick. It was an incredibly good school, and he'd admit all three of them were smart, but still, three for three had to be a little weird, right? And to think, people accused him and his brothers of being joined at the hips.

He gave her a dry look as she walked back to her spot on the carpet. "We both know that's not how this works."

Blossom slammed the book she had opened shut, "You're impossible."

"I think you meant to say consistent." He spared her one last glance before settling back into the recliner, "Really, Bloss, how in the world do you think you'd be able to keep this one from them? At this point, my brothers just assume I'm at the center of the mayhem."

She tsked, but the lack of argument was deafening. After a moment, she sighed, and her shoulders dropped, "I just don't want them to get hurt. Not like last time."

"Don't know what you're so worried about." He drawled, "I recall them saving us, not the other way around."

"And I recall the scar that's now running up and down Butters' back." She shot back, "This time, there will be no mess-ups."

"Yeah, wanna bet on—"

"Home!" Buttercup's voice rang throughout the apartment as the front door was slammed open and shut, "How we feeling about take-out—Oh, sup, Brick. You good with Chinese tonight?"

"We're working on school stuff!" Blossom exclaimed, scrambling to cover up the more elicit details of their ‘homework.'

Buttercup rolled her eyes, placing a hand on her hip, "I can tell. What's it this time, huh? Something normal or is there a bomb threatening to reactivate the volcano in Townsville Central Park that I should be made aware of?"

"It's norm—"

"—mutants." He interrupted Blossom, "The man funding your dad's company is sups sketch."

Buttercup shifted on her feet and crossed her arms, "Does this have to do with that Chemical-X stuff dad was talking about?"

"Don't you have a shower you should be taking?" Blossom huffed, glaring at the both of them, "You just finished a run, I can tell; you smell like a pig."

"That's what tipped you off?" Buttercup snorted, "Not the copious amount of sweat dripping down my face? Hey," she nodded her head at them, "ask me how my run went."

Together, he and Blossom rolled their eyes and sighed, "How'd your run—"

"Really well, wow, thanks for asking!" Buttercup smiled, "I beat my average, sooo think hard about what where you want to order from for dinner tonight. We're celebrating! I already texted Bubs," Buttercup stuck her tongue out at them, "she was much more enthusiastic."  

"Then celebrate with her," Blossom frowned from her spot on the floor, fingering the edges of her notebook, "we've got a lot to finish tonight. I don't think we'll have—"

"Yeah, yeah. Listen here, hero-girl," Buttercup scowled, hands back on her hips, "you still gotta eat. Ima take a shower, you have till then to put the spy shit away. Speaking of spy shit," her glare shifted to him, "your brother done fixing my car yet?"

"Ask him, babe." He sniffed, looking pointedly at the tv, "I ain't the middleman."

He suppressed the urge to bulk as Buttercup lifted him up off the recliner by the collar of his shirt. A dark smile snuck its way across her face as she leaned close into him, "Considering the fact that you owe me for getting it destroyed in the first place, baby, then I think you are."

"A lesson in forgiveness would do you well, but fine, I'll ask." He sneered back, unwillingly to show the dread that ran up his spine when he saw the look in her eyes, "You do realize, though, it'd be faster if you just called—"

"Nope!" She sang, dropping him back down in the seat, like nothing had just transpired between them, "If he wants my number, he has to ask for it!" She walked down the hall towards the bathroom, "I don't make the rules."

He scowled, watching her walk away before turning his head back to Blossom, "She's lucky I owe her."

"You're lucky," Buttercup called from down the hallway, "that I saved your sorry ass!"

Blossom snorted, and he shot her a dirty look, "Don't encourage her."

"Oh, be quiet," Blossom snickered, "just watch TV like you always do, and I'll put—"

"I'm home!" A high, singsong voice rang through the house, as the door was once again thrown open, and his heart palpitated without permission. He forced his eyes to focus on the tv, and if Blossom noticed how he sunk low into the recliner, she thankfully didn't say anything.

"In here!" Blossom called back, and from the corner of his eye, he watched as Bubbles stuck her head around the corner. Quickly, he turned his attention back to the tv and tried his best not to seem at all interested as she practically danced her way into the room. She was always practically dancing everywhere she went. It was annoying.

"Blossy, oh my god, you will not believe what—Brick!" She exclaimed, shoving a finger in his face when she noticed he was in the room, "Wai—Brick Jojo! Do not move from that spot!"

He blinked and looked around at the spot he had forged for himself in their living room. His bookbag, snack bags, disregarded textbooks, and his jacket littered the space around him, and his body had imprinted into the recliner's seat cushions, so when he looked back at Bubbles and gave her a dry look, he meant it when he said, "Yeah, wasn't planning on it."

He looked away quickly when she beamed at him. Her smile was bright, sweet, and dimply, and also very annoying. People couldn't always be so immovably happy, could they?

Bubbles giggled and did a little hoppy-dance before she calmed down and looked back at him, "Ahhh, okay!" She wagged a finger at him, "You stay! I've got a surpriiiisseee for you."

"Again," He huffed, ignoring all the less-than-innocent surprise scenarios his traitorous brain played through, "wasn't going anywhere."

"If you're not going anywhere, why don't you actually do some work while you wait." Blossom's voice bit through the air, but he ignored her, going back to flipping through the tv.

"Yeeepp," He popped, his tone no drier than hers, "wasn't planning on that either."

 Blossom mumbled to herself and looked at Bubbles, "Before you go, can you help me with these books? I'm putting them in my bedroom."

Bubbles held out her arms, moving around the recliner and out of his field of vision, "No prob-lamo, chica! What's this all for?"

"Don't worry about it." Blossom brushed Bubbles off, and her sister giggled again.

"What?" The blonde snorted, "Is there a bomb in the volcano?"

He could practically hear the way Blossom stiffened, "Why does everyone keep saying—do people think there's a bomb in the—"

"Blossom!" He groaned, "I'm fucking hungry, hurry up."

She hmphed and stomped out of the living room with Bubbles presumably following, so he relaxed in his seat, ready to blow out the deep breath he was holding when Bubbles' visage filled his vision.

Her smile crinkled the corners of her baby blue eyes, and the back of his neck instantly warmed at the proximity. He wasn't one for people invading his personal space, but Bubbles literally had no freaking concept of it. She was always shoving her face in his. So, unfortunately, Brick was very aware of the sun freckles that littered their way throughout her cheeks and it was particularly distressing because staring at her face made it easier to forget the No Touching Rule he was pretty adamant about people following.

"Stay." She reminded him; her tone tinged with lingering laughter. This close, she smelt like the physical embodiment of a bakery, and it took a significant amount of willpower to pull his eyes away from her.

"Whatever." He mumbled.

With another giggle—always with the dumb giggling—she was gone, and he was finally alone to collect himself. He pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered a string of particularly nasty curse words at himself. Objectively, he was well aware that Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup were…attractive, but he was never actually supposed to be attracted to any of them. They were the girls. They were just the girls. Ever since he had known them, they had been just the girls.

Blossom had a stick up her ass.

Buttercup could probably disembowel him.

And Bubbles giggled and smiled.

And it didn't matter if she giggled and smiled at him. Because she giggled and smiled at everything. She was one of those people, the kind of person that gave someone their undivided attention in a room full of people. She was good at making people feel good about themselves. She didn’t do it just for him. No see, if he was attracted to Bubbles, which he wasn't, it was because she was very good at making all people feel seen. So, he wasn't special. He wasn't. And it just—she would…he wasn't used to people just automatically assuming the good in him. People so optimistic tended to avoid him.

The positive attention was just making his head spin, making things confusing, and that was it. He wasn't one of those sad, lonely guys who mistook niceness for flirting. He had a clear head on his shoulders. It was just attention he was unused to. And it was a kind of attention he didn't need. Bubbles was just a nuisance. Her personality was too sweet. They were so different. Even if he did actually end up somehow magically liking her, it wouldn't work between them in a million years.

Besides, everyone already knew that pretty social butterflies didn't actually go for anti-social dweebs. Real-life wasn't an overdramatic coming-of-age rom-com. Realistically, she probably went for guys like Boomer.

He let out a shaky breath and turned up the volume on the tv. Some housewife was crying about something laughably petty, but he couldn't find it in himself to smile.

A second later, he nearly jumped out of his skin when a pair of hands clasped together over his eyes. He only relaxed when he heard Bubbles voice nice and warm next to his ear. "Peak-a-boo," she laughed, "guess who!"

He ignored the way her breath tickled his neck and frowned into the darkness, "A heart attack?"

"Oof, so close!" She snorted, releasing her hands from his face and leaning around the recliner, so he could see her smiling at him, "It's Bubbles!"

"Hello, Bubbles." He droned, not resisting the way his eyes rolled but fighting the way his mouth was trying to twitch into a smile.

"Ready for your surpriiisse!" She sang, walking around the chair so she could stand in front of him with her hands clasped behind her back. He pressed his way further into the recliner after their knees knocked together, distancing himself from her.

"As ready as I'll ever be." He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, "What is it?"

"It's a gift!" She rocked back and forth on the heels of her feet, still smiling.

"Okaayyy." He reached a hand out with grabby fingers, "Let's get this over with, give it here."

She tilted her head back and laughed, a real honest belly laugh, before she looked down at him again, and suddenly, he felt tiny under her gaze. "Oh, my goodness, Brick," She chided, "I'm not just gonna hand it to you! Close your eyes and hold out your hands!"

He adjusted the brim of his hat lower down his face and looked away, "I don't—"

"I said—" she repeated, reaching a hand out to pull his hat down completely over his eyes, "Close your eyes!"

"Fine." He hissed, trying to sound as grumpy as he was pretending to be and readjusted his hat as he shut his eyes, "They're closed. Happy?"

"Hold out your hands!"

He sighed but complied, and after a bit of shuffling on Bubbles' part, something small was placed in his hands.

"Okay," she announced, "now open your eyes!"

He opened his eyes and stared at the little…thing in his hands. He didn't know exactly what it was, but he figured it was some kind of fluffy…hat…keychain? He didn't know. He gave it a quizzical look before returning his stare to Bubbles.

"Ta-da!" she sang, accompanied by a pair of jazz hands, before she clapped them together, "Do you like it!"

"What…is it?"

There was a pause, and the smile on Bubbles's face fell away. "What is it!" She huffed, cheeks puffed out like an angry chipmunk, which was the worst angry face she could have because it just made her cuter, "It's a dog keychain!"

"This—" he held the keychain up for both of them to examine, "—is not a dog. It's a ball of fluff."

Bubbles' mouth dropped open, "It totally is! Look," she snatched it out of his hands, smooshing the fluff down so she could show off its' pointed ears, stubby little legs, and tail, "see! Puppy! A little Pomeranian! Baby puppy! Puppy, puppy, puppy!"

With something akin to bloodcurdling embarrassment pulsing through his veins, he watched as Bubbles continued to baby talk the offensive keychain, placing a tiny peck on its' small nose.

"And look!" She gushed, shoving it back into his face, "Look at its wittle red hat!" She squealed, bring it back to her so she could cuddle it to her face, "It's so cute I can't even!" Without warning, she dropped into his lap, which was around the same time his heart dropped into his stomach, "I saw it and thought of you immediately!"

He froze at the admission. He had never once thought of himself as someone who short-circuited very often, but people didn't compare him to a cute Pomeranian keychain very often either. In fact, he had been called a lot of things in his short lifespan—wiseass, smartass, punkass, there was a very consistent theme of derogatory titles thrown at him on the daily—but cute Pomeranian was not one of them. And, frankly, he couldn't say he was a fan.

"Are you comparing me to a Pomeranian?" He sneered, momentarily forgetting the fact that Bubbles Utonium was making herself comfortable on his lap, and he was neglecting to stop her.  

"Duh!" She said rather flippantly, pushing the brim of his hat up and off his face, so they could look at each other. Another definite no-no that he was too flabbergasted to address.

"I would not be a Pomeranian!" He argued when he collected his jaw off the ground.  

"Uhhh, yes, you would, lol." She argued back, playing with the fluffy little keychain in her hands. She kissed its face again, and in turn, his face only got hotter.

"Uhhhhhh," he mocked, "no, I wouldn't be."

She looked up from the keychain and gave him a somewhat patronizing look, "Yes, you would be."

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

She laughed, "Brick, yes! You're just like a Pomeranian! You're super intelligent, curious, feisty, you like being the center of attention," she looked off for a second in thought, waving a hand in the air as she talked, "and you've definitely got some tiny dog syndrome in you."

He blinked at her, gaping, as his brain worked overload to find something to dispute in that analysis, but when he couldn't find any, he spat at her, "Why do you know all this shit about Pomeranians, huh?"

"They're one of my favorite breeds!" Her face lit up, "They're just so cute! I love them! And you remind me of them, so I got this for you!" She held the keychain up again, "It's so cute!"

His mind ground to a sudden halt as the words' cute' and 'love' and 'you' repeatedly echoed in his head. His heart hammered away in his chest, and in his panic, he contemplated throwing her off his lap and burning the whole apartment complex to the ground. What was one more arson charge on his record, anyway?  

"Bubs—stop saying…so what?" He asked, floundering before changing tactics. She wasn't the only one who could say embarrassing shit. "Does that mean you think I'm cute or something?" He flirted with a smirk, but it was only after the sentence left his mouth that he remembered Bubbles Utonium didn't get embarrassed. She smiled and giggled.

And that continued to ring turn even now, as she laughed, wrapping her arms around hia neck, she squeezed him. Only letting go of him slightly, to the bring the keychain up to his face, so she could bop the little dog’s nose and his nose together. "Of course!" She agreed, "Cute as a button!"

"N-no!" He sputtered.

"No," she pulled away from the crook of his neck, tilting her head in question, "what?"

"No," he sneered, "I'm not cute like a button."

She considered this for a second, tapping the keychain to her face, before shooting him a broad smile, "Handsome? Is that better?" Mirth tinkled in her big doe eyes, "You're our handsome boy?"

"That's worse!" He complained almost hysterically, running a frantic hand through his hair, knocking the hat he had somehow forgotten he had on from his head.  

"Aw, Brick, come on," She rolled her eyes, catching the hat before it fell to the ground and plopping it on her head, "what do you want me to say then?"

"The truth never hurt," He spat as if he hadn't lied through his teeth at least three different times this week to three professors that he couldn't attend class because his beloved family pet 'Insert Name Here' had died.

Bubbles pouted, "But I told you the truth! I think you're handsome!" She held up the keychain, and with a horribly fake and cheesy deep voice, she used the gift as a puppet, "You're the most handsomest boy in the whole world!"

She solidified her point by making the keychain kiss his nose once more before pulling back to gape at him, "Wow, see even Mr. Puppy agrees with me!"

"Oh, right," he shook his head, in mock agreement, "a handsome boy with little dog syndrome, right?"

"Well," she shrugged, waving him off, "I never said you were charming."

His retort was caught off with a giggle, and she made the keychain kiss his nose once, then twice, and then his breath hitched as a third wet kiss was planted on his cheek by Bubbles herself. She pulled back with a coy smile.

"Brick…" she hummed, trailing off, and something about her tone made him swallow thickly.

"Y-yeah." He finally pushed out after a moment.

"Can I play with your hair?" She asked, leaning forward, laying her head on his shoulder as she twirled a lock of his hair around her finger, and he swore his soul left his body. No one, absolutely no one, touched his hair. No one wore his hat. No one sat on his lap. And here she was. And here he was. And he wasn't stopping her like he should have been.

"Uhh, umm, I—uhh—"

"Bubs, jeez!"

He jumped, choking on his own spit, as Buttercup marched into the room, her hair still dripping wet.

"Seriously, personal space, you're making him uncomfortable." Buttercup huffed, one hand on her hip as he gestured to his face, which was probably redder than his hat.

"Uncomfy!" Bubbles shot up, and a guilty look flashed across her face as she took in his face, "Ah, shoot, sorry, is this too much?" She took her arms away from his neck and wrung her hands together, for the first time blushing, "I just get too excited sometimes! I have a lotta love in my heart, ya know?" She finished with a bashful chuckle.

The small distance between them actually made it a little easier to think again, but she didn't need to know that. Embarrassed by the noticeable flush of his face and his reaction to Buttercup catching them, Brick shrugged and looked away, "You're fine."

That was apparently not good enough for Bubbles because she pleaded again, "I'm sorry!"

"I said," he hissed, wishing she'd drop it, "you're fine!"

"I'm still so sorry!" Looking back over, he was surprised to see her lower lip wobbling, "I shouldn't have forgotten!" She put her hands on her face, squishing her cheeks, as tears began to well in her eyes, and he sent a frantic look over towards Buttercup, "I know you're not a hugger, I should have asked and—"

"—Bubs, he said he was fine." Buttercup interjected again, "Now, you're just making him uncomfortable all over!"  

Bubbles looked from Buttercup to him, back to Buttercup, and then finally to him once more. "You're fine?" She clarified, “This is okay?”

And all he could do was nod, "Yep."

Visibly relaxing, her eyes became less and less watery, and she shot him a relieved look.

"Sheesh." Buttercup mumbled and walked away, "zero to one hundred. Bloss!" She called out, "Come save your poor counterpart from the clutches of cuddly evil over here and let's order the food!"

"What!" Blossom called from her room down the hall.

With an exasperated huff on Buttercup’s part and something more frantic on his part, they both yelled out, "Food!" and there was a scoff from the bedrooms.

"No need to yell!" She shot back, "I'm coming!"

Buttercup shook her head before jabbing her thumb in the direction of their tiny kitchen and announced, "I'm getting the take-out menus."

Bubbles nodded and then, beamed when she noticed Blossom had walked into the room.

"Blossom! Look at this cute keychain I got for Brick!" She cooed, her eyes bright and excited again, which would have brought him some relief if she hadn't opened her big mouth and kept talking, "Doesn't it remind you of him? It's a Pomeranian!"

Face aflame once more, he snapped, "I'm not a Pomeranian!"

"Ho—ly shit!" Obnoxious laughter floated its way out of the kitchen that only made him grind his teeth, "He totally is!"  

"It's the little dog syndrome." Blossom agreed, flipping her hair over her shoulder and ignoring the crude gesture he shot her way as she walked past him towards the kitchen, "BC, let's order from Lee's!"

"No way!" Buttercup argued, "Pa Changs!"

He turned back to Bubbles, who, despite it all, had yet to remove herself from his lap. He was about to make some remark about him pushing her off of his lap in the next three seconds, but the way her eyes flinted over his face made him pause. When she realized she had been caught staring, she smiled once more, bright and beaming, and his heart did another funny little dance.

"You like it, right?" She tilted her head, holding the keychain up so it dangled between them, "I…I can take it back if you want."

Her smile fell the slightest of fractions along with his heart.

"No!" His hand shot out, taking hold of the keychain, "It's—I like it, whatever." He sniffed and turned his head away, "So quit the kicked puppy shit, alright?"

Another smile. Another giggle. It felt like a sick joke, but Brick was pretty sure he was falling in love.

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

A/N: That’s right! It seems the only way I can write romance is with a shit ton of pining!!!! To love is to long, I guess. It’s a little awkward in some places, but it was for fun, so I decided to cut myself some slack and post it anyway! I hope you like it!!! The pairing doesn’t get a lot of love, but I think opposites attract dynamic is so so so cute.

Also, sorry this took me forever! First, I got distracted looking at cute dog pics and then halfway through writing the drabble I was like “hey what if I stuck Blossom in this and she and Brick solved mysteries??” So, then I lived with that AU floating around in my head rent-free, and now, finally, here we are. ANYWAY, in this AU, Blossom is in a very sapphic relationship with Princess, who, along with HIM, is the main antagonist. The Professor is the damsel in distress btws. Brick and Bubbles are disgusting cute. Boomer’s gay, who for tho?? Who knows! Not me! But he’s a freelancer, who’s hardcore freeloading off of Brick and Butch, and that’s all you really need to know. Buttercup has big Mom Friend vibes. Also, Butch is a mechanic and playfully flirts with Buttercup, which she thinks is funny until he actually starts really flirting with her, and then she’s like “um, sir, I am a maiden???” b/c she is actually both shy and a prude. (And you know I like my greens) Anyway, el oh el, it’s a good time.

inspo for the keychain (and brick):

[artificialqueens]

Good Morning Campers, Chapter 1 (Crystal x Gigi) - Gelato

It was another beautiful summer at Camp Blue Springs.

At the start of every June, hundreds of girls flooded to Kansas City, Missouri for seven straight weeks of fun in the sun. Filled with activities from sunrise to sunset, it was the ultimate sleep away camp experience.

Busses filled with excited young ladies, ranging in age from 12 to 17, pulled swiftly into the entrance of the sprawling camp that was nestled just off of Lake Blue Springs. It wasn’t long before thrilled campers began filing out, the once silent camp ground now filled with their voices as they unloaded their bags and reconnected with one another. Some girls were local, others having to endure lengthier trips to reach their destination via bus from across the state or country.

Others had the luxury of a first class seat followed by a private car ride from the airport, a certain leggy red head from California being amongst those few.

Gigi Goode had been a model camper since the summer of ‘84, and was practically bursting with joy at the opportunity to be a Junior Counselor for the class of ‘89. She not only adored the camp and the friends she had made over the years, but was even more thrilled for the volunteer hours she would rack up over the summer to add to her already impressive college applications.

She stepped gingerly out of her private town car onto the dirt road of the camp’s entrance and didn’t hesitate to fill her lungs with fresh, pine-scented air. It truly was her happy place, the great outdoors, the glistening lake,

The girls.

She quite literally shook that last thought from her head. What sort of upstanding young woman from Los Angeles would think such a thing?

It was easy to ignore back home. Spending all her time with school activities, her family, even managing to drum up a relationship with the captain of the lacrosse team. Oh yes, she had the perfect life down pat. The perfect daughter to her parents, a straight A student, the captain of the cheer squad, and a cute athletic boyfriend to match.

But she always felt something was missing deep down inside. A certain itch that needed scratching. Something that she busied herself to no end in order to forget. Something that became that much harder to ignore when it was quite literally in her face. Hundreds of girls, and one camper in particular that always managed to catch her eye.

Crystal Methyd from cabin 702.

She cursed herself after noticing she had been scanning the crowd, hoping to catch a wisp of blue hair amongst them.

“Is that Gigi Goode I see?” A chipper voice snapped her out of her trance. A curvy woman with perfectly quaffed hair and secretary glasses, complete with a clipboard in hand made her way to Gigi.

“Mrs. Davis!” Gigi exclaimed, happy to greet the camp’s director. They embraced briefly, Gigi overjoyed to see the woman that acted as a second mother to her over the years.

“It’s so good to see you, dear! We’re so excited to have you on the team this year. Well, so much to get started on. Once you’ve unloaded your bags we’ll all gather in the pavilion, so keep an ear out for bunk announcements!” Mrs. Davis instructed with a smile before disappearing into the over zealous crowd.

——-

Gigi had a carry on bag and two large suitcases absolutely stuffed with clothes, although they had a uniform code in place. She always accessorized her plain white camp t-shirts and shoes with cute tennis skirts, and of course hoards of fashionable casual pieces on hand to wear for other camp events. Others couldn’t really afford to travel so heavy, but luckily her family paid her driver handsomely to unload each bag with care.

She made her way to the pavilion, running into and latching on to her camp clique along the way.

Gigi, Nicky, Violet, and Naomi had been fast friends since meeting one another on the lake over the years. Each one hailed from wealthy families across the country, or in Nicky’s case, across the Atlantic, as she was the only international camper and traveled all the way from Paris to be here.

They all shared similar passions in excelling in both the beauty and brains department, and had luckily all been bunked together for the years prior, expecting this summer to be no exception.

“I can’t wait for the volleyball tournament, I’ve been practicing my serve all year.” Naomi shared, pleased for the opportunity to show off her athletic prowess.

“Speak for yourself. I can’t stand sweating. I’m just ready for the midsummer formal!” Violet interjected. Having spent all her time back home at an all girl’s catholic school, and summers at an all girl’s camp, she was more than ready for the one night a year that the Blue Mountain’s camp for boys across the lake merged with their own for a dance.

Gigi cringed internally at the thought. She loved the idea of dressing up, having brought several gowns to choose from for the event, but dreaded the idea of a sweaty teenaged boy approaching her for a dance. She barely danced at formals with her boyfriend back home for the similar reason of simply not caring for a man’s touch.

She was taken out of her thoughts by boisterous laughter across from where they were seated in the pavilion. Her head snapped toward the disruption.

Oh no.

The Strange Gang.

Camp wasn’t without its cliques. You put that many teenaged girls together and they were bound to group off with one another.

You had the athletic types, always on the courts and fields. The nerds, spending all their free times bird watching and studying plants and wild life along the lake. The “Heathers”, or so they had only recently been dubbed by their fellow campers the previous year since the movie had been released. Gigi and her friends figured it was better than the “Rich bitches”, and embraced the new name for their entourage.

And then there was the “Strange Gang”. A group of self proclaimed weirdos of the camp. And boy, did they live up to the name. They were often known for elaborate pranks and general mischief.

Crystal, Adore, Katya, and Evie. All grouped together, they were a mess of wild makeup, unnatural colored hair, and body piercings that they somehow got past the Senior Counselors. Gigi, having disdain for any sort of disorder or disruption, loathed them.

Especially Crystal. The loudest and most daring of the group. Breaking dress code left and right with her bright blue hair and gaudy accessories from head to toe. She was always laughing and smiling from ear to ear.

The cutest laugh and most beautiful smile Gigi had ever seen.

But she wouldn’t ever admit that.

“Great. You’d think after years of being social outcasts they wouldn’t bother coming back.” Gigi huffed, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes at the group.

Her eyes locked with Crystal across the pavilion. Had she been staring at her this whole time? Crystal quickly noticed Gigi gazing back at her and her smile grew even wider. She wiggled her fingers in a dainty wave toward the red head.

Gigi flushed pink and quickly averted her eyes. She hated how Crystal made her feel. Almost like she was teasing her. As if she knew exactly how she made her heart beat faster with every look her direction.

“Good morning, Campers!” Miss Davis captured the attention of the crowd with her megaphone from the center stage of the pavilion. The girls shouted a greeting in response.

“Let me just start off by saying how excited we are to have all of you here! We look forward to having the most memorable summer yet! Now listen closely for your bunk assignments. I’ll be starting with our Junior Counselors. As you hear your name, please gather your bags and make your way to the cabins. In bunk 700, that’s 7-0-0, we have miss Trixie Mattel, Courtney Act, Violet Chachki, and Naysha Lopez.” Mrs. Davis announced.

“What? We’re being separated? That can’t be right. I put in a request that we would be together!” Violet couldn’t contain her rage, gesturing between her and Gigi. She flagged down Mrs. Davis from the front row of the stage and pleaded with her to make a change.

“I’m sorry dear, bunk assignments are final until further notice. You’ll just have to make new friends until then.” Mrs. Davis apologized half heartedly before continuing her announcements.

“Hey, it’s alright. I have it good with Mrs. Davis, I’ll just talk to her about it in her office later, we’ll get it fixed.” Gigi whispered assuredly to her heated friend.

“Fine!” Violet exasperated, grabbing her bags and storming from the pavilion to the cabin grounds.

“Now for Cabin 701, that’s 7-0-1, we have Alexis Mateo, Brooke Lynn Heights, Gigi Goode-“

Gigi practically jumped from her seat and began to grab her things, excited to make her way to the bunks.

“- and Crystal Methyd!” Mrs. Davis finished.

Gigi froze.

There was no way. No how. This was some sort of sick joke. One of the Strange Gang’s pranks for sure. How could a trouble maker land a spot as a Junior Counselor?

Her head went dizzy, vision got fuzzy, heart raced, and palms began to sweat. She barely made out the bouncing, teal haired figure that bounded toward her from across the room, a Lisa Frank duffle slung over her shoulder, the stone necklaces around her neck jingling with every step.

“Hi roomie! Need help with your bags?” Crystal greeted warmly, her sweet voice dripping with sincerity and excitement.

Gigi tried her best to return to the surface, but was too late.

She fainted right there on the pavilion’s wooden floors.

———

Gigi’s eyes fluttered open and she let out a soft groan, immediately noticing a sharp twang at the back of her head. Her hand instantly darted between her head and the pillow it rested on to feel the tight knot that had formed from her nasty fall.

Her eyes stayed gazing up at the ceiling, realizing quickly from the florescent lighting and the smell of rubbing alcohol that she had been laying in the infirmary.

“The nurse said not to let you touch it.” A voice piped up next to her.

Gigi’s head snapped quickly to her side, dread quickly filling her once again as she noticed Crystal sitting cross legged in a lounge chair not two feet away. Her eyes zoned in on the flash of hot pink panties visible up Crystal’s skirt from the way she sat. She instantly blushed red from noticing and looked away.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to sit that way with a skirt on? You can see right up it.” She partly fiend anger at the unexpected view.

“Oh, sorry.” Crystal giggled and untucked her legs from underneath each other to sit more properly in the chair. She straightened her back and placed her hands in her lap, her sweet smile never moving from her lips.

“It’s whatever. What are you doing here anyway?” Gigi continued, trying her best to sound more annoyed than elated. She secretly didn’t mind waking up to Crystal by her side, but she wasn’t about to let her know that.

“Mrs. Davis thought it would be best if you had someone to walk with you back to the bunks.” Crystal explained, bouncing up from her perch on the lounge chair and making her way to sit at the edge of Gigi’s infirmary bed.

Her backside sat flush with Gigi’s waist and without a thought, her hand rested on her thigh. Gigi inhaled deeply and tried to remain calm, swiftly sitting up and effectively pulling herself from Crystal’s touch.

“Well, you didn’t have to wait. I’m sure one of my friends will be here any minute to help me back.” Gigi huffed. She was still dizzy from the fall, otherwise she would have left right then and there on her own.

Crystal’s smile fell a bit and her brow furrowed.

“Are you sure? It’s been about two hours..” She replied softly. Her head tilted to the side as she gazed questioningly back at Gigi like a confused puppy.

Gigi’s heart broke slightly from the sense of abandonment by her so called friends, but warmed a little from Crystal’s obvious concern.

It was sweet.

She realized how difficult it would be to keep up this charade of hating her. But her reputation with her friends and the entire camp was on the line. She pulled herself out of her thoughts and emotions.

“Fine. I’ll just go myself.” Gigi replied, not daring to look Crystal in the eye before pulling herself out of the bed and heading straight for the door.

Sore head or not, she couldn’t stay in that room any longer.

——-

Crystal sat puzzled and stared blankly at the empty pillow where Gigi’s head once laid. She reached out and brushed her lime-green painted fingers across it.

It was still warm to the touch.

She really could have left long ago. Hell, she didn’t even have to follow the camp medics as they carried Gigi back to the infirmary. But she insisted on sticking by her side.

The little crush she had on the most popular girl at camp had blossomed into a full blown obsession. She looked forward to every summer spent here, saving every penny earned at the Springfield bowling alley to finance her camp expenses.

She had made great friends along the way, but in all reality she kept coming back for a chance to see Gigi.

“Well, that blows.” She whispered to herself with an exhale, popping up from her seat on the bed and making her way out of the cabin.

She was greeted right away by Adore who had been waiting at the doorway.

“How’d it go?” Her friend asked, raising her eyebrows in question, a coy smile playing at her lips.

“Struck out.” Crystal replied with a shake of the head.

“Yeah, I figured.” Adore laughed, making her way down the infirmary stares ahead of her friend.

“What? And why is that?” Crystal fiend offense.

“Oh, I don’t know. Something about how she practically ran out of here without you anywhere in sight.” Adore laughed uncontrollably, earning herself a playful shove from Crystal.

“I’m still hopeful!” Crystal exclaimed, jumping on Adore’s back for a piggy back ride.

“More like hopeless.” Adore replied jokingly, happily carting Crystal back to the bunks.

____

The Junior Counselor’s cabins had their perks.

Instead of the usual eight to a space, there were only four, meaning more space for each girl to sprawl out and personalize their areas. Gigi had been looking forward to choosing her spot in the cabin and making it her own, so you could only imagine her annoyance that she had missed out at first pick.

The only beds left were across from one another in the back of the cabin, no where near the bright bay window she had dreamed of laying next to at night to watch the moon.

Her bags had already been set next to the bed on the far left side. It sat in a corner under cobwebs and was practically in the dark compared to the other two across the cabin. She flopped onto it, burying her face in her arms and letting out a near silent sob, thankful that her bunkmates hadn’t been there.

This day couldn’t have gotten any worse, or so she thought until she heard now familiar footsteps followed by jangling, chunky jewelry. She quickly sucked her tears back in and wiped away whatever was left on her face.

Crystal slung her duffle bag on top of the empty bed across from Gigi. She hadn’t planned on sleeping this close to her, but did a happy dance in her head at how well it all worked out in her favor.

“Sorry, it’s the only one left.” Crystal apologized to Gigi softly before unloading her belongings onto her bed.

It was amazing how much she could fit into that Lisa Frank duffle. Clothes, shoes, endless necklaces, bracelets, and earrings. She even managed to pack a leopard print blanket and multicolored stuffed animals to decorate with.

Gigi still laid on her stomach, turning her head slightly at the noise Crystal was making while unpacking. She stared in awe at how the wooden walls of the room’s corner now exploded with color.

It had just then registered in her head what Crystal had said just moments before. She.. apologized? Gigi immediately felt guilty. She was a lot of things, but rich and beautiful didn’t make her a bully. That was more Violet and Nicki’s territory. Crystal had really been nothing but sweet to her this whole time, her reputation as a trouble maker aside.

“I’m sorry.” Gigi stated plainly.

Crystal looked back at the red head, confused and taken aback at the unexpected apology.

Gigi sat up.

“Thank you for waiting with me. I guess I was just in a grumpy mood after waking up. I should have thanked you instead of being such a bitch, huh?” Gigi laughed slightly, hoping to God that there were no hard feelings.

“You weren’t a bitch.” Crystal laugh along with her, turning around completely and walking over to Gigi’s side to plop herself beside her.

Their laughter died down and the two sat in silence for a few moments. Gigi took all of Crystal in.

She hadn’t noticed how long and beautiful her legs were. She had a sun-kissed complexion, a stark contrast to Gigi’s milky white skin. Her blue hair, that Gigi once thought to be tacky, actually suited her and tied in well with her dark, almond shaped eyes. She had sharp cheek bones that balanced perfectly with a slender, yet soft face.

Her full, pillowy lips were next. Painted a baby pink with a swipe of shimmery gloss. Lips she had always daydreamed about feeling on her own. How would those lips feel on her neck? Her chest? Between her legs?

They inched closer, slowly bridging the gap between them.

This was happening.

This was real.

Gigi looked into Crystal’s eyes, almost as if asking permission. For what? She had no idea. Maybe just to keep moving closer. Crystal bit her lip lightly and nodded her head slowly. Her eyes locked onto Gigi’s lips.

The door busted open, Nicki and Naomi storming in. Gigi quickly backed away, realizing only then how close her and Crystal’s lips were to touching.

“There you are! See, Naomi, I told you she would be back here by now.” Nicki said, gesturing to Gigi who now hurriedly stood from her bed.

Crystal snapped out of her state of shock at both what had just transpired between her and Gigi and the sudden intrusion.

“Well, that one said she wouldn’t be up for hours so excuse me for thinking she was still in the infirmary.” Naomi rolled her eyes and gestured flippantly at Crystal.

Gigi’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Wait, you came for me?” She asked her friends, suddenly realizing that they hadn’t abandoned her after all. She looked sharply at Crystal, who was now flushed red.

“Of course we came for you. But your little.. friend wouldn’t let us wake you. She said she would see you back herself.” Nicki continued, her brow raised and she crossed her arms.

So Crystal had lied, Gigi thought. For what? She wondered. She shook her head clean of that thought. And with it, shook away everything that had just happened between the two of them in the cabin just then.

“Let’s get out of here.” She sneered, shooting a dirty look in Crystal’s direction before storming out of the cabin with the other two Heather’s in tow.

Crystal sighed and beat herself up mentally for thinking she could get away with stretching the truth earlier. She chastised herself for being so selfish.

Back to square one.

[seijohsfairy]

𝙰𝙱𝚂𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴

Semi Eita has an attitude problem and it starts with you. But you are the one he ends his day with too, and maybe you can convince yourself that’s enough.

thank you so much miki @/undermattsun please go adore her skate rats like I do if you haven’t yet

.wordc. 1k+ tw dubcon (high), smoking, unhealthy relationships, semi-public, degradation

+

If anything should have tipped you off on what kind of day it would be, it should have been the way you walked in and almost choked on the thick waft of smoke being blown your way. A heavy tobacco smell that you’re not familiar with, and a wide, gleaming grin behind the white curtain as you shake it away with your hand. Yamagata gives you a quick up and down, before smiling wider and throwing a glance over his shoulder. “Yo, Semi! You got company!” He moves aside a bit more to usher you inside, even though you have plenty of room to move past him. As you walk further into the warm, somewhat musty room, Yamagata has the indecency to smack your ass when your back is turned to him, just lifting his slit eyebrow when you squeak. “Good to see you here again, pet.”

And if that, or the way some of the others are demanding payment for their correct bets, wasn’t clear enough, you definitely should have known when you plop down across from Eita on the couches and he’s drawing mindless circles into the bare back of some other girl, her top only covering the front by some help of the fraying spaghetti straps. You’re not against games, you’re not, but three weeks of almost total silence and the occasional mass ‘share my mixtape’ message isn’t much of a game. You hate how jealous you feel watching his long digits paint invisible wonders on skin, someone’s skin that you know doesn’t matter to him in the end. But you should matter, and he’s damn good at pretending you don’t. Some of the other people fill the couch next to you, leaving you squished between the too-hot body of a splayed out Kawanishi, and Tendou, who’s deodorant is sprayed on so heavy it’s making your eyes water.

You prop your feet on the coffee table and slump back when Eita sends you another pointed look, ignoring the way he tickles his fingers down her thigh as he leans down to grab one of the clean bongs. Instead you focus yourself on the caramel blonde to your side, bumping him with your elbows and holding out your fingers in a pinching gesture. “Pretty please?”

He snorts, and hands his blunt over after taking another deep pull, blowing it to the side as he leans his elbows on his knees. The way dark eyes keep roaming over your exposed skin from across the small table doesn’t bother you as much when you can focus on someone’s company you also enjoy.

Tendou swings his arm around both you and the girl squeezed to his other side at some point during the next hour, you don’t notice much of it. All you know is that you’re curled up against Taichi with a warmth in your skull and a sticky, cotton-like feeling lifting your body. Your legs tucked up over his and the giggle against your cheek feeling good. “Yeah? And how long would that be?” he drawls out, chin tilted back a little to look at you through half-lidded eyes.

“We’ve been best friends since— well… forever,” you respond after a few beats, swaying a little with the music in the room. “But I don’t like him lately.” You look back at Eita when you hear him laugh, the one he only does when he’s smoked a few rounds and his eyes can’t truly focus on anything anymore. But it’s loud and wide and it splits his face in such genuine enjoyment that you can’t help but stare any time he does it. Just a pity the girl is sucking dark blots on the side of his neck while he rants to Ushijima about something, hearing Tendou and some of the girls quip in too. As if feeling your eyes on him, he rolls his head back and your way again, peeking out the tip of his tongue and leaving the glistening muscle out for long enough it starts looking like the only thing you want. In, on, surrounding you. Then he pulls it back, making the black jewel disappear along with it, and gives you another up and down like you’re the one in the wrong here.

The dark blonde beneath you grins wider when you turn back with a scowl, barely chewing on his answer. “Maybe you should move on to someone who’ll treat you, then.” It’s just what you want to hear, you know this just as well as he does, but you can’t help but consider the promise of attention, even if you know that Taichi is just as bad as his own close friend. Your close friend, the one you’ve been head over heels with since you were old enough to realize it, the one who used your free-to-grab feelings as a cleaning wipe for his issues.

You huff, but brush a finger over his lips when he picks out the dart from between them. Taichi’s eyes flick back up to yours, then to Semi, then back to you. He grins. “Need someone to make you forget, pretty girl?”

Before you get the chance to answer, luckily for you and your useless, cotton-filled brain, there’s bangs at the door. Reon, Goshiki and not much later Shirabu all walk in differing levels of drenched, dropping their boards next to the shoes. They must’ve gotten caught in the rain when returning, and considering the eldest’s pointed expression, they probably kept skating despite his protests. You stand from the couch with a little sigh and stretch your limbs above your head, humming softly. Taichi’s hand is on your ass to keep you upright, thumb slipping out of the pocket where he had buried it earlier. “I’ll go get ‘em some towels,” you say, shuffling past the sets of feet with careful, somewhat clumsy movements.

As you go, you send Eita a quick glance. He has his shirt unbuttoned way too low, exposing part of one of his tattoos. The golden necklace you got the asshole for his birthday falls between his pecks, reminding you again what a horrible idea this was. You’re a glutton for torture. Still, as you walk you feel the wetness grinding your panties to your center, remembering the way he likes fucking into you until you’re a blubbering mess. He’s a menace, but you’re the idiot that keeps running back. And you won’t take his bullshit next time, is what you promise yourself, every time you end up on your hands and knees for your once-best friend.

You wobble walking up the stairs, the old wood creaking obnoxiously with each step. The shits are so old someone will break through them one day. As you flick on the lights with the back of your hand and bend down to sort through the messy cabinet tucked into the wall, a soft glow starts to build over you again, seeming to burn through your bones. You turn with the towels in hand, only to be slammed against the wall. The harsh movement knocks the wind out of you, but the eerily vacant, dark expression is what keeps you in place. His hold is lazy anyway, like he couldn’t care less if you wanted to run. “Having fun being a dumb, insensitive slut?” he mouths, barely reaching over the noise downstairs.

Your lips crack open to answer, but you remain frozen. Your every fiber seems to wiggle happily at his touch, his attention, and you arch your back so your chest can brush up against him. It’s childish, it’s desperate, and you don’t care because his lips hover over yours and he growls lowly into your mouth. “You had plenty to say so where are your words now, huh?”

He kisses you, pressing his mouth against yours hard and rough and taking your tongue like he always owned it in the first place. Drowning you in him and forcing his air down your throat when you try to pull away for air. You try to shove at his chest, but your traitorous fingers curl into his shirt to pull him closer instead, and he reaches to grab your thigh and yank it to lock around him. There his fingers stay for a while, digging in and creating marks. Eita isn’t soft with you, chooses not to be, it’s infuriating. Because you know better than anyone he can be, and does it well.

When he urges your head back by pulling at the hair on the base of your skull, finally disconnecting his mouth from yours, you whine. The rest of you stays molten together, chest and thighs and his hard-on in between your legs where it should be. “Gonna take this fat cock right here where anyone can see?” You can’t think right, immediately nodding at his question. Anything. Anything he’s willing to give. “Yeah? My pretty pet wants it so bad, how sweet. Maybe next time I’ll just take you on the couch then. Bet you’d let me do that too, show off that slutty cunt for everyone to see.”

“Whatever you want, Eita,” you whine, rolling your hips against him as you keep slicking up your panties.

“You’re so fucking desperate for me. I love ruining you,” he’s already messing with the zipper of your jeans and pulling them down before you can think about what you just said. “I’ll fuck you nice and brainless, baby. And we’ll let your friend watch, sound good?” His long fingers dip into your underwear at once, groaning a little at your dripping slit for him already. ”Maybe Goshiki too, he loves licking up his senpai’s sloppy seconds from dumb, horny pets like you.”

Then he shoves his pants down to expose himself, dropping your thigh so he can give himself some messy pumps and spread his beads of precum around with his thumb. The somewhat aware part of your brain reminds you ‘condom’, but knowing Eita he’d find some excuse to take it off anyway. So you let him line himself up and grin, looking over his shoulder at the stairs for a moment in fear before he slides inside too fast. He still stretches you to the edge, bottoming out with a loud grunt. “And be loud, fucking whore, make them hear it. I bet a hundred bucks on this dripping cunt.”

[molkolsdal]

Pakistan's Transgender Community Is Hiding Out in a Hostile City

As Peshawar has come under increasing sway of an extremist view of Islam, its community of transgender hijras has been increasingly marginalized.

By Beenish Ahmed, 16/05/2014 Photos by Abdul Majeed Goraya

"My father used to beat me and ask, 'Why do you have to go around pretending to be a girl?'"

Now at 35, she says her cheeks burn and fists tighten if anyone refers to her as a man.

Khushboo, whose name means fragrance, classifies herself as a hijra, a South Asian gender designation that encompasses transgender and transexual people, as well as transvestites and eunuchs.

She has a different definition for herself and the estimated hundreds of thousands of other hijras across the region. "Our souls are female and our bodies are male," she says, dipping a rag into a red plastic pail filled with a chalky mixture of water and face powder. Surrounded by a group of several other hijras in a room they call their "office," Khushboo smears the dripping rag over her face and adds, "I've known I was a hijra since I was a child."

She used to wear her sisters' clothes. At 16, Khushboo slipped out of the house in one of their outfits and didn't return home for years. Along with another hijra, she settled in Peshawar, a city in northwestern Pakistan one night's drive from the costal city of Karachi where she'd grown up.

Peshawar has long been home to cultural traditions that insist on strict gender segregation, and the city has come under increasing sway of an extremist view of Islam in recent years. These intolerant, conservative beliefs are made brutally clear through the bombings and shootings that are now near-weekly occurrences. Taliban suicide bombers killed 85 worshippers at a church there last September, and militants killed thirteen people at a cinema showing pornographic movies in February. Lesser attacks are momentary blips on local news coverage featuring bloodied streets and blaring sirens.

Khushboo points to battered doors and broken windows around her. She says young men—"college boys" she calls them—wreak havoc on her and fellow hijras who are preparing for a dance performance later that night. Sometimes the men recite scripture and beat the hijras to shame them out of their profession as dancers, and other times they force them to dance or even rape them, she tells me.

Despite the extremism that has only further marred the city since her arrival nearly 20 years ago, Khushboo has an affinity for Peshawar because it's where she had a sort of rebirth as her new self.

Free from the abuse of her father and brothers, as well as the sense of dishonor she felt on behalf of her mother and sisters, Khushboo embraced a new life of openness—and was adopted into a new family.

"In this field we have mothers. We have gurus. We have uncles and aunts," she says, and then points to a girl who's rolling a spliff in the corner of the room. "She's my daughter. I'm a daughter of someone so she has a grandmother too. And," Khushboo adds, "She also has a father."

That last bit comes so quickly that I almost miss it. I inquire further about the girl's "papa" and Khushboo says, "Her father is married to someone else, but he loves me." She then goes on to explain what their relationship entails—and it's all very practical until it gets utterly tragic: "If I'm sick, he comes by and brings me medicine," she says proudly. "If I don't have money he drops some cash off. If I die, it's this man who will dress me up as a man and take my body to his house to carry out the cemetery. He might not explain the full story and just say that I was killed in the market or that there was some kind of shooting, but he's the one who will take care of the funeral."

I can't help but think that this grim possibility is one that Khushboo has discussed with her "husband"—and one that he too has come to terms with.

"In Pakistani society, there is a really strong [sense of] place and family," says Dr. Jamil Ahmad Chitrali, a professor of anthropology. "There is no alternative for anyone."

Based at the University of Peshawar, Chitrali has written about the city's hijra community. He says that by forging the same sorts of familial connections that they left behind, hijras create a social order that mimics the very society from which many of them fled.

"It's forcing all those revolutionary individuals who are against those binaries of man and woman to come into a structure which is reaffirming patriarchy," he says.

Pakistan's hijras have made some strides in recent years despite their rather isolated existence. In 2012, the Pakistani Supreme Court allowed for a "third gender" category to be added to national identity cards, which effectively gave hijras increased legal standing. It's because of this broader recognition that hijras could vote in that year's presidential election—at least five hijras even ran for office.

But the third gender classification has made little practical difference in Khusbhoo's life. "We live in a third world," she says, the difference between her life and that of a cisgender person just as stark as the difference between life in Pakistan, and say, Monaco.

And, she says, no matter what she does, she'll always be seen as different.

"Even if I give up dancing, everyone will still call me a hijra so what's the point? Why not do what I love?" She adds that even if she were to become a traveling evangelist, her family would still regard her with the same disdain. "I'm better off staying a hijra."

And that's the hardest thing that Khushboo has to face: her family. She got back in touch with them after five years of not speaking, and goes to see them in Karachi at least once a year. But when she does, she goes dressed as a man.

Though she moves about as a woman in Peshawar, Khushboo wears a black floor length, full-sleeved robe (or abaya), and a face covering (or niqab) that reveals only her eyes to hide herself from prying eyes. Even so, she's been thrown out of several houses by people who fear hijras will ruin their neighborhood.

While they occupy a marginalized space across Pakistan, hijras are probably worst off in Peshawar. In all of the other major cities in the country, they are frequent sites at traffic intersections or in shopping centers where they offer a prayer for a few rupees. Many passersby fear denying them might mean a curse and so will either oblige quickly or turn away completely.

I've spent a lot of time in Peshawar over the years, and have never seen hijras out in public the way they are in other cities. After speaking with Professor Chitrali, I learned that might be because hijras have a different role in the Pathan society that dominates the Peshawar area. In this part of the country, hijras aren't seen to have some sort of greater spiritual connection than cisgender people—instead, their role is celebratory. They're often asked to sing and dance at weddings and births.

"It's their performance which gives [a family] social recognition," Chitrali says, though the tradition is fading as weddings move from family houses into wedding halls. Some might have other professions—Khushboo says she has hijra friends who are lawyers and pilots and act cisgender in order to maintain their jobs, though they're free to "be themselves" with her and other hijras. Due to a lack of societal acceptance, many hijras live marginalized lives as low-income entertainers, but they've got a bit of a role as educators, too. Hijras sometimes teach—or even initiate—young men into sex. For many in Peshawar who live by strict religious and cultural codes that denounce almost any pre-marital interaction between the sexes as sinful, hijras provide a sort of in-between, or a "cushion," as Chitrali calls it.

"If you cross the domain of manhood into womanhood, that is against the culture, that is crossing your limits. But you can always move into the gray area, so this hijra community, in that sense, in a clear binary of man and woman among Pathans, [forms] a gray area." But he says that this "learning experience" is becoming less common with such how-to's readily available on the internet.

In Peshawar's increasingly religiously-motivated milieu, the presence of hijras—be they dancers or sex workers—is frowned upon and politicians vie for favor by pushing them out of their homes and worksites.

Seeing this, Malik Iqbal says he wanted to do something. "I sympathize with them because no one gives them any space," he tells me.

He rents out the office that Khusboo and her fellow hijras use to prepare for their dances.

"I didn't used to be on their side," Iqbal says. "Now I help them. I say they're humans too. We should have some empathy for that reason. Not just me, everyone should empathize with them as people."

But some believe Iqbal's connection to hijras goes beyond a shared humanity. Though he refuses to speak about it, Iqbal was arrested in 2010 for attempting to marry a hijra called Rani. Such a union would be illegal under Pakistani law, which only recognizes marriages between men and women. He has repeatedly denied the charge and claimed that police were trying to extort money from hijras at an event that wasn't a marriage but an innocent birthday party. Either way, the shock the story garnered reveals just how far removed everyday Pakistanis are from the hijra community. A big-grossing film called Bol, or Speak—released in 2011—may have helped some, but real connections like Iqbal's remain few.

And not everyone in close proximity to hirjas is sympathetic. Noor Illahi, who owns a grain shop down the street from the hijras' office, doesn't have a problem with the hijras themselves or even their work, but thinks they should find some other place to go. "My work has suffered because of them. The other storeowners and I, we think they should be given some place off to the side. It should be separate."

He's worked in his store for 15 years and says that sales have dropped fifty percent since the hijras set up shop next door a few years ago. "There are a lot of fights here now. They create quite a scene sometimes."

The raucousness has driven away his customers. Those who stop in the area are more interested in the hijras than the sacks of flour he has for sale.

"I'm not personally offended by them. But look," he says, pointing to a group of several white shalwar kameez-clad men loitering outside the hijra's building. "These poor people have earned just three or four hundred rupees all day ($3-4) and they'll come here and waste it all on them."

The men are all rickshaw drivers. One by one, they go on the record to deny being there to solicit sex. "We're just here to chit chat with them," one says while peering over his shoulder to see if any of the hijras have come out into the alley. "It's a totally innocent relationship that we have with them."

Back up in the hijras' office, the lights have gone out as a part of the rolling power outages that have frustrated Pakistanis for years. It might be another hour before they're ready to leave for their performance. When they do, they'll be cloaked in massive shawls and under the cover of night.

[gukyi]

the search | jhs

summary: your boyfriend, hoseok, decides you surprise you one afternoon and sends you on a scavenger hunt all around the city, marking the memories of your love. 

{established relationship!au}

pairing: jung hoseok x reader genre: fluff word count: 1k warnings: none a/n: thank you to @theevangelist for commissioning this drabble and for donating to blm! this fic is just a reminder to me that i need to write more stuff for hobi because he is lovely and deserves it.

It starts with a note taped to your front door. 

You plop the canvas bags of groceries down at your feet in curiosity as your fingers tug at the index card attached to your grody wooden apartment door, eyes narrowing as you read the scrawled lettering. 

I hope this note finds you well. You are being sent on a quest by none other than your amazing, incredible, wonderful, generous, handsome, talented boyfriend. There is something good at the end of this, I promise. 

There better be, you think to yourself. All you could think about while at the supermarket was how excited you were to come back home and fall asleep on your couch watching reruns of the Forensic Files. 

First one’s easy. Return to the very place we first met. Where it all started. 

You shuffle into your apartment, hands full and note between your lips, and drop off all of your groceries, making sure to put anything cold into your refrigerator before continuing. The moment you’re finished, you head out of your apartment and make a beeline for your local sushi restaurant. It’s several blocks away but your feet seem to be moving quicker today, pink index card clutched in between your fingers as you walk against the wind, hands crossed over your chest to keep warm. It’s cold today—or perhaps you just never dress appropriately—and you sure as hell hope that Hoseok isn’t going to send you on a wild goose chase outdoors like this. 

When you arrive, Hoseok isn’t there (not that you were expecting him to be). Instead, you notice his good friend Jimin waiting in an empty booth, sipping on a soda. 

You have a feeling he isn’t anticipating anybody else. 

It’s hard not to think about this place when it comes to Hoseok. When it comes to who the two of you have become together. 

“Hey, that’s my friend from dance,” Jungkook says to you, pointing to a man sitting a few tables away from you. He’s alone, but checking his watch often, like he’s expecting someone. “Hoseok!”

The man looks up and his expression bursts into a grin, happy and relieved to have been called over. At once, you notice his eyes, the way that they twinkle in the soft white light of the restaurant, like his own little sets of stars. He gets up at once, heading over to your table. 

“Jungkook, what a nice surprise!” He says, making sure to turn and say hello to you as well. You’re frozen still, too nervous to say anything but too entranced to look away. 

“What are you doing here?” Jungkook asks. 

Hoseok shrugs. “I was supposed to be on a date, but it looks like she bailed on me.” For what reason you cannot possibly imagine. Who would bail on someone like him?

“Damn, that sucks,” Jungkook says. “You’re welcome to sit with us, right, Y/N?”

Jungkook’s voice breaks you out of your trance, making you turn to him with wide eyes. Hoseok smiles at your fumble, chuckling heartily. 

“Y-Yeah,” you sputter out. “Of course.”

Hoseok accepts happily, thanking the two of you for letting him crash your meal. He slides in next to Jungkook so you’re forced to look at him and his starry eyes, and he begins to smile. 

“Am I in the right place?” You ask with an eyebrow raise, strolling up to Jimin. He jumps at your voice. 

“Not too hard to find me, right?” Jimin poses. He holds out a blue index card between his fingers.

I knew you could do it. Hard to believe that so much would come from that one meal. You know, I’m actually kind of grateful to the girl that bailed on me. I think that, since our friend groups were so interlocked, we would have met eventually, but if she hadn’t skipped out, I don’t know if we ever would have made what we have now. 

In any case, your next clue is this: my favorite book?

You thank Jimin for his time and promise to buy him a drink sometime soon as payment for sitting in the sushi restaurant, lonely and waiting for you to show up. The hostess does not pay attention to the fact that you arrived and left within five minutes, and you dart off to the next spot on your list. 

It’s ten blocks in the opposite direction—god, couldn’t Hoseok have made this a little less intensive?—but you know that you’re getting close because the smell of coffee is wafting through the air, the wind blowing it towards you. 

The bookstore is right next to you and Hoseok’s favorite coffee joint, a perfect destination for two nerds like yourselves. 

You wander into the store, a crooked little thing, old white walls with peeling paint and random rugs scattered along the floor. Here, you and Hoseok could spend hours, browsing through the hundreds of books stored haphazardly on the shelves, some arranged in an order, and some placed wherever there was an empty spot. The books have long outgrown the store, but the owner still refuses to part with this near-shack. Something about the memories. 

“I never knew this place even existed,” you tell Hoseok as he leads you through the winding passageways and uneven steps of this tiny little bookstore, so tilted and twisted it’s as if the place will fall apart underneath the pressure.

“It’s a secret,” Hoseok whispers into your ear with a giggle. “For only those who know exactly where to look.”

“I take it you read?” You ask. This is a strange place for a first date, but no stranger than any others you’ve been on. 

“I bring a book with me to practice every day,” Hoseok tells you proudly. “Books are dreams turned to reality.”

“There are other ways to turn your dreams into a reality,” you tell him. 

Hoseok turns to you, a gleam in his eye, interest piqued. “Really? How’s that?”

You whisper, a shout into the void, into the air settling between the two of you. “By doing them yourself.”

Despite the organization (or lack thereof) of the shop, you know exactly where to find what you’re looking for. On a small shelf that doesn’t match any of the others in the store is a collection of Charles Dickens works, and three paperback copies of A Christmas Carol. 

You fish through the first two with no luck, but find a purple index card in the third. 

Too easy for you, huh? I guess it’s no surprise that my favorite book is a children’s tale about Christmas. But I think that even adults can learn from ol’ Ebenezer Scrooge sometimes. I just think that Christmas, and the wintertime in general, is magical. And I think that we could all do with never forgetting the past, working towards the future, and living in the present. At least, that’s what I try to do. 

Okay, last one: in a big city, stars are sparse and nearly impossible to see. But there is one place that we can go whenever we miss the Moon and her admirers. 

You suppose that Hoseok has a method to his madness nonetheless. 

There are four parks within the city, but you know exactly which one Hoseok’s talking about. It’s the one in the center, surrounded by skyscrapers and glass windows and street lamps. It’s small, barely the size of a decent parking lot, but it’s filled with trees and a giant fountain in the middle, and signs to keep off of the grass that nobody reads. 

And when you arrive, there you see him, sitting on the lawn on a gingham picnic blanket, with a basket splayed out as he gazes up at the evening sky. 

“I knew you’d know where to go,” Hoseok says when he spots you strolling towards him, fingers toying with themselves like a kindergarten love. 

“Did you ever doubt me?” You ask him. It’s as if Hoseok thinks that you don’t think the same as he does, don’t treasure the same memories you share. “You know we’re not supposed to be on the grass.”

“Oh, yeah?” Hoseok says, pulling you down next to him and wrapping his arms around you. He leans in close, pressing a soft kiss on your lips. “And who’s going to stop me?”

“Stop,” you say with a grin, letting him kiss you again. “The stars are watching us.”

Hoseok smiles. Even if it’s only seven, even if you can’t even see the stars in the city anyway, they will never leave your side. Not when you can watch them in the eyes of the man in front of you, white glints twinkling, shimmering, sparkling. He is golden and beautiful. He is starlight. “I hope that they always do.”

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget that i’m still taking commissions!

[shes-an-oddbird]

Christmas at River’s End Mall

Summary -  A Christmas AU in which everyone navigates their seasonal jobs, relationships and Christmas spirit, or lack there of, through woven together tales inspired by holiday prompts.

So excited about this little challenge for myself. 25 Days of Christmas, 25 Holiday prompts and a dozen or more characters I love and miss. Each chapter should spot light a different character or relationship and the stories become more and more intertwined (think Valentine's Day). 

Chapter 1 - Decorating for Christmas

Prompt - Decorating for Christmas Relationship - Philindaisy Family Feels POV - Coulson

There was something magical about the River’s End Mall at Christmas time. The largest mall in the state and ideally suited for events all year round but an absolute must see come the holiday season. A massive tree, an indoor ice rink, sleighrides outside, lights, decorations and of course Santa himself.

All of this was made possible by the efforts of the mall’s event coordinator, Melinda May, who upon meeting, wouldn’t be pegged as the festive type. It would however be assumed that she was the type to be exceptionally good at her job. Whatever that job may be. She was an excellent event coordinator because she got things done. So, when it comes to Christmas, she hires the best.

A man who brings a winter wonderland to life within the walls of the mall.

A man who believes in putting the spirit back in the holidays, even in the most commercial of locations.

A man who loves a good suit, red or otherwise.

A man by the name of Phil Coulson.

And on occasion, Santa Clause.

“If you don’t lay off the cookies, you’re not going to need the pillow to stuff your suit this year.” Phil smiles as Melinda appears next to him. He’s got a mouth full of crumbs and can’t get his own quip out before she’s taken in the hundreds of decorations they’ve brought in. “You’re out doing yourself this year.”

He swallows down the last of the cookie and grabs a few more off the tray that was set out for the workers and volunteers. “We got so much publicity last year, national news remember, can’t disappoint now.”

“I see and when does the tree arrive?”

“It’s here, they’re trying to figure out how to get it through the door.”

Her eyes snap to his, “Coulson, we’ve driven trucks into the mall, exactly how big is this tree?”

“Could be worse, Rockefeller Center already had dibs on my first pick.”

May rolls her eyes at him but he knows it’s all for show. When May first came to him twenty-five years ago, inquiring about setting up a Santa Experience at the mall he knew she’d accept nothing less than the best and every year it got a little bigger and a little better. It had been great publicity for his business, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t trying to impress her just a little bit.

“When do my elves arrive?” His own crew of employees handled most of the setup, installing the ice rink, hanging decorations from the balcony, setting up the tree, but over time the mall had acquired a group of volunteers who came in to help hang ornaments and set up activity tables.

“Daisy and the other volunteers should be here shortly.” Phil nods and watches as May moves around the towers of boxes, inspecting the contents of each of them.

“We’ve got everything, enough ornaments to coat a forest, the undecorated ones for the activity tables arrived yesterday, we’re also on 100% low energy LED lights this year.” May nods along but clearly isn’t paying much attention.

“We’ve got an excellent wrapping paper source this year too, lots of variety, different colors.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Came up with a tag line for the print advertisements, Christmas at River’s End Mall, it’s a Magical Place.”

“Coulson.”

“I think the box you’re looking for is over here.” Finally with her attention back, he leads her over to a foldout table with a small box sitting at the edge. May peers inside to see it full of handmade ornaments and a small spark appears in her eyes. Shortly after they had started the Santa Experience at the mall May had partnered with the local orphanage to bring in the kids in to do crafts and receive gifts. It was that first year that they had met Daisy, an unlucky but optimistic little girl and accidently bonded with May. While most of the kids took their crafts home to decorate as best they could for Christmas, Daisy always gave hers to the grumpy coordinator. May would then hang the decorations on the large tree. He still remembers the look on Daisy’s face when she came back the second year and saw her messy glitter ornament front and center. Phil had watched the pair get closer every year from then on and to be honest he knows he’s gotten attached too.

“I know you’re not Santa you know.” She says, her tiny arms crossed and messy dark hair obscuring her face.

“Oh.” He doesn’t know if that means she doesn’t believe in Santa at all or just knows that he’s not the real thing.

She leans against the arm of his chair. “Yeah, but I won’t tell the other kids.”

“Well I appreciate that; do you still want to tell me what you want for Christmas?” He always played Santa with the kids from the orphanage. He handled it better than his other employees when all these kids ever asked for was a family.

“I don’t really want anything.” She’s admiring the tree they’re situated in front of, he can see the lights sparkling in her wide eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, but can I hang out for a minute anyways?” She asks, still distracted.

He smiles. “Of course.”

Every year it was the same with Daisy. She wouldn’t ask for anything, just go through the line for show and sit with him and stare at the lights when it was her turn. He found himself looking forward to the few minutes they shared together but then one year she wasn’t there. He had gone to May immediately. His friend, he had thought had been in a bad mood since the start of the holiday season, but that day she seemed particularly distant. “No Daisy this year, was she adopted?” He asks. Several little kids look up at him with curious eyes.

After ensuring all the activity tables were covered, May gestures for him to follow her a few steps away. “They’ve placed her with a foster family.”

“Well that’s good, a step in the right direction.” May says nothing. “But you don’t sound convinced.” He jokes.

“Its happened a couple of times before, they always send her back.”

This shocks him. Daisy was such an easy kid. Didn’t ask for anything, helped with the younger children, “she seems like such a good kid.”

“She is, just not a good fit, that’s what Sister Anne said.”

“Maybe this time will be different.”

“Maybe.”

Coulson knows somethings up. He’s gotten pretty good a reading May over the years. “You don’t seem too thrilled about that possibility.”

“That little girl deserves some love and support in her life, if she’s with a family that will give her that then I’m ecstatic.”

Daisy was back the next year. Things hadn’t worked out well with her foster family and she had been sent back to the orphanage shortly after the new year. On the plus side May seemed merrier than she had the past year, even if it was just slightly.

When Daisy comes through the line this time she doesn’t sit on the arm of the chair and stare at the lights and she doesn’t mock him about his crush on May. Daisy was a very perceptive child. Instead she shifts uncomfortably and whispers, “I think I know what I want this year.”

“Really?” Phil perks up. Whatever this kid wants he’s prepared to make it happen for her. He’ll talk to May and they’ll make it happen. A pony, a car, whatever.

“Yeah, but I don’t think I’ll get it.”

“Oh no? Well I know you know I’m not really Santa, but I could still work a little magic.”

Daisy still doesn’t give it up but her eyes that normally stare at the sparkling lights are directed now at the activity table where May is helping some of the younger kids glue cotton balls to Santa hats.

“She’s teaching me to ice skate.”

“Yeah?” This surprises him if only just a little. He had found out not long after they first installed the indoor ice rink that she was an excellent skater but he’d yet to see her set foot on the ice.

“She’d be a good mom, I think.”

So that was it. “That is a pretty big request.”

“I didn’t say – “ She protests.

“I know, but also, I know.” Daisy gives him a small smile before it fell back to a frown. “Look,” he said softly, taking her hands, “I don’t know if I can make that happen but I do know that she cares a lot about you and so do I, it makes me really happy that you shared that with me.”

“Thank you Coul – um, Santa.”

“COULSON!” Phil is jarred from his thoughts in time to see Daisy spiriting up to him. She’s grown now into a young woman, with a passion for computer science and a close batch of misfit friends who she’s built a family out of. Its no longer just her and May and occasionally himself at the Christmas dinner table.

“Long time no see, how come you never visit anymore?” He pulls her in to a tight hug. Its been too long.

“I don’t know, maybe because I’m a busy working adult now.”

“All lies, you’re ten years old in my mind.” He steps back, “you’ve got time to help me decorate though?”

She beams back at him. “Always, but uh, where is the tree?”

Yeah he should probably check on that. He turns to May, who at some point during his reminiscing had answered her phone. “They just got it through the doors, Coulson I swear if this doesn’t fit – “

“I will personally go chop down a smaller one,” he promises. “You try to give her the best and she complains about it.”

“I’m not complaining I’m being rational; someone is going to have to take care of this tree.”

“I have been doing this for twenty-five years and never once had a tree die on me.”

“1999, 2007, 2013, last year – “

“Last years was sick, what did you want me to do put it out of the street, have you never seen a Charlie Brown Christmas.”

“Alright mom and dad," Daisy interrupts, "let’s just call this one a draw, its sounds like we’ve got a lot of work to do.” She looks eagerly at May and he knows she wants something. “And speaking of work, I brought my roommate, Jemma, you remember her, right?”

“She's the expert gift wrapper you mentioned?”

“Can she interview with you?”

“These aren’t really convenient hours, she knows that right?”

Daisy nods enthusiastically. “She does, absolutely does, her labs have her working weird hours, late nights and early mornings, so this should be perfect for her.”

May nods in agreement. “Sounds great, let’s go.” Daisy does a short victory jig and begins to lead the way. May starts to follow but stops suddenly. “Coulson - "

“Yes?”

“The Tree.”

“I’ll ready the ax, Melinda.” She smiles a genuine smile and his heart thuds like he’d a kid again. Maybe this would be the year. Maybe.

[bush-viper-cutie]

“Talk Over Tea” || YEAR 3 – Ch.27 (HP au)

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Day posted: 10/13/2020

Word count: 3, 283

Relationship: EVENTUAL severus X oc (slow burn)

Rating: E for everyone

Warnings: none

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A/N: This is my first fan fic I’m writing mainly as a way to practice. This is a retelling of the hp books with an inserted character. Although most every character will be written about, this is mostly for the pro snape fandom. Please do not fear, although this is a severus x oc story, it is an incredibly slow burn as I do not intend for them to get together at all until after the final book events. Chapters will be posted twice a week.

This derivative work follows the events of the Harry Potter books by Jk Rowling and is intended as a fun way to practice my writing. Thank you for reading :D

Sorry about the late upload, my internet is practically nonexistent right now DX 

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“WHAT happened?”

Ron grinned at Heather as she sat down at the Gryffindor table for breakfast. “I’ll tell it again. Gladly.” He stood up again and everyone around him leaned closer to hear his version of events one more time. “I was sleeping in bed when a weird noise woke me up. I sat up and then – SLICE – Sirius Black had split my curtains in two with a MASSIVE knife. There he was screaming over me yelling AAAAAAAAARGH – ” Ron towered over them like a scary bear with his claws out, “and seeing as I was awake and screaming too, he ran off.”

Everyone gasped and started whispering about how brave Ron was. Harry was looking uncomfortable, sitting beside Ron as he told the story over again to anyone who asked. Heather folded her arms. It was true what people were saying, about Sirus Black having broken in, gotten into the boy’s dormitories – INCHES from Harry – and had escaped again. But it didn’t make any sense.

“Ron! Tell it again for Sean!” A Hufflepuff came running down with his friend right behind him.

“Gladly.” Ron set down his fork over his cold eggs and stood up once more.

Heather rolled her eyes and pulled Harry up with her. They both walked down to where Hermione sat hardly touching her breakfast as she read, eyes darting left to right frantically.

“Hermione, what do you think of what happened last night?” Heather sat down in front of her. Harry drummed his fingers on the table and Heather pulled the book down to get her attention. “Hermione?”

She sighed. “What IS it? I’m studying! I have to read this by Monday and I have two hundred pages to read today!”

“Did you hear about what happened? To Ron?”

Hermione looked at Heather and glared towards Ron. “I heard. I’m glad he’s not hurt.”

“Same,” said Harry.

Heather nodded. “But it doesn’t make sense… Does it.”

“What doesn’t make sense? Sirius Black is a crazed maniac on the loose again. Everything he does is dangerous and insane, isn’t it?” Harry pulled a bowl closer and started scooping in some cinnamon porridge from a center pot. “Only I don’t see how he keeps getting past the dementors… Fudge was right about him being more dangerous than everyone thought and wrong about him seeming sane.”

“But that’s not what I’m getting at.” She pulled Hermione’s book back down to get her attention again. “He didn’t hurt anyone… And… Especially not you, Harry.”

They were all quiet as they thought over Heather’s words.

“Look,” Hermione pulled her book out of Heather’s hands. “I don’t know what Sirius Black was thinking, or why he didn’t just kill Ron and then Harry or whatever it is that mad man wants to do… That’s the business of Professor Dumbledore, the Ministry, and the dementors. That’s why Ron talked to them this morning and why they’re doubling down forces around here. What IS my business is finishing up this book and the essay that goes along with it so that I don’t have to drop this class.” Hermione propped her ‘Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles’ text book back up and flipped the page.

They sat in silence for the remainder of breakfast and ended up leaving Hermione and her unfinished porridge and dragged Ron off with them. They decided they were all still too shaken up about what had happened to Ron to do any homework and started walking around the castle where extra security was being put in.

They followed Mr. Filch around at a distance as he boarded up every crack in the stone walls, every mouse hole – to Mrs. Norris’ dismay – and almost every secret passage that the map showed; all but the one-eyed witch passage into Honeydukes. After being told off for snooping, they followed Professor Flitwick as he taught several of the large doors around the school to recognize a giant picture of Sirius Black.

Professor Flitwick liked the company and let them watch how he charmed two small but large-armed stone troll statues to guard the portrait of the fat lady. She had accepted guarding Gryffindor tower again after Sir Codegan had failed so horribly, demanding extra security measures be taken around her painting.

They sat in the corner of the courtyard looking over Harry’s firebolt, shining it with a clean rag, while Heather drew beside them on the ground. She was trying to get the right color of a small bird pecking at the grass growing between the stones when Harry spoke up, scaring it away.

“D’you think they really don’t know about the one-eyed witch statue? D’you reckon we should tell someone about it?”

Ron leaned in closer to the broom handle and breathed onto it, wiping away a smudge with the rag. “Nah. We’d’ve heard if Honeydukes had been broken into. Besides, no one but us knows about it. He doesn’t have the map.”

Heather was glad Harry was nodding, though she knew she should be the voice of reason right now. Of course they should tell Professor Dumbledore that the secret passage exists… but she’d just gotten to a very interesting part in the banned potions book and wanted to go into the apothecary in Hogsmeade to buy some ingredients for it. That and she wondered if the plant shop there had certain seeds she could grow in that charmed pot Hermione had got her. If the passage was sealed, then she wouldn’t be able to go into Hogsmeade until possibly next year… or whenever they finally caught Sirius Black.

A group of second year girls spotted Ron from across the courtyard and came running up to him, begging to hear the story from his lips. Ron blushed and began retelling it.

“Well… I was asleep and I heard a weird noise – a giant TEAR like a SLICE, and so I woke up realizing it wasn’t in my dream! I looked up and saw him… Sirius Black standing over me with his dirty long hair and a knife as long as my arm! He yelled – about to plunge the knife into my body – when I yelled and he SCAMPERED. Ran right out and escaped.”

The group of girls squealed and huddled together like a pack of scared sheep. They made their way back into the castle corridor, pleased to have heard it and waved goodbye at Ron with giggles.

“You know you tell it different every time?” Heather rolled her eyes and kept mixing more white into her dark blue water color.

“Well I don’t like remembering last night. I’m still scared about it. I almost died!” Ron let Harry take back his broom and crossed his arms. “Why though? Why’d he run off?”

“I’ve been thinking about that… About what you said, Heather.” Harry sat down next to her, followed by Ron. “Why did he run when he saw Ron and not just slice him up and then me and the others? Well I had my curtains pulled closed because of the moonlight that night, and so had Ron. So he had a half chance of getting it right and guessed. He saw it wasn’t me right away, got mad, and then Ron yelled. He must have gotten scared that Ron screamed and he knew people would be waking up, so he ran. I mean, it’d be harder to escape out the castle after everyone had been woken up – and running into the teachers and all that.”

They agreed with Harry on his take on what happened.

“Except… Ron didn’t you say Sirius Black screamed first?” She remembered a version of his story where he said Sirius Black had yelled angrily.

“I don’t remember much of how it all happened. I just try to tell it how I remember telling it to Professor Dumbledore.” Ron went a bit red but shook his head and went back to shining Harry’s broom with the servicing kit.

In the distance they saw Neville walking behind Professor McGonagall on their way to his detention. Apparently it had been Neville who had lost a slip of all of the secret passwords for the week, the very slip that Black used to get in. Whatever detention he’d been given was nothing to the one his grandmother was going to give him. The next morning he’d received a Howler and had seized it and ran with it out of the great hall at once.

It exploded out there and his grandmother’s voice could still be heard clear as crystal telling him about how he’d horribly dishonored his family and brought shame to them all. The Slytherin table was howling with laughter and Heather rolled her eyes at Draco who gave his best impression of Neville sprinting down the great hall with a howler cupped in his hands.

“Harry, you’ve got a letter too,” Ron pointed out.

Heather had just noticed Hedwig sitting patiently in front of them. “Oh, thank you Hedwig. Take my bacon.” Hedwig traded the letter for the bacon and flew back out the tall windows. “‘Dear Harry and Ron. How’s ‘bout seeing me this afternoon for tea ‘round six? Meet me by the castle doors. Wait for me inside the entrance hall. Inside by the doors. Not outside by the doors. Inside. Hagrid. Oh and Heather, come along too if you’d like. Cheers, Hagrid.’” She folded the letter back up. “What a strange invitation…”

Ron shrugged. “He wants to hear about Black from us. You weren’t there, Heather, which is why you were an afterthought. Don’t take it personally.”

The attention was getting to Ron’s head. Harry, however, took the note and pinched his lips closed, probably also noticing Hermione wasn’t invited. They both knew from previous Dursley experience – more precisely among Petunia and her group of wifely friends – what that meant.

Heather had finished her essays early and decided to meet Ron and Harry by the main stairs of the ground floor corridor and together they walked down to the entrance hall. Hagrid was already waiting for them.

“Hagrid! Want me to start telling the story? How Black almost attacked us but my scream drove him off?” Ron took the lead as they left the castle.

“I’ve ‘ready heard ‘bout that.” Hagrid didn’t look down at Ron and kept his eyes on his hut in the distance.

Ron fell behind and walked with Harry, crossing his arms. Harry looked at Heather and she knew he was thinking the same thing.

The air was cold but the grass was greener than it had been a month ago and the small buds that had been closed all winter long were now opening up wide. The lawn was looking shiny and glittery with dew drops and the flowers speckled the green with color. She remembered Professor Sprout saying how she didn’t care that the flowers were weeds, some weeds were pretty, even if Mr. Filch didn’t think so. Heather felt she was right. Flowers were flowers even if some called them weeds, and all flowers were pretty.

They entered Hagrid’s cabin and saw Buckbeak sleeping by the fire with a large plate of dead ferrets by his head. Fang was curled under one of the wings while the other was pulled tight around Buckbeak’s body for warmth. On Hagrid’s dresser door hung a large patchy, fur suit with a long orange and yellow tie draped over the shoulder.

Harry ran his hands down the matted fur and turned to Hagrid. “What’re these for?”

“Fer Buckbeak’s case. M’wearin’ that this Friday, tryin’ to look nice and what not. We’ll be goin’ down ter London on the Knight Bus together.” Hagrid motioned for Buckbeak.

Heather bit her lip. She’d completely forgotten they all promised to help Hagrid with his case. With Quidditch and the broom and the cat and matches and school, she hadn’t even thought of Buckbeak once. Harry pressed a hand to his mouth and Ron looked uneasy; they too had forgotten.

Hagrid offered them lumps of what looked like bread with berries baked inside and Heather accepted with the condition of warm tea to dunk it in. She knew it’d be hard as stone otherwise. They sat at the table and Heather dunked her berry bread in the tea when the moment had finally come

“Ron, Harry. Got somethin’ ter discuss with you two.” Hagrid looked at them both very seriously, which was uncharacteristic of him. He never looked too serious about anything, always preferring a lighthearted environment.

“Us two? But not with Heather?” Harry frowned.

“No. Not with Heather. YOU two. And yer behaviors these last several months.”

Heather crossed her arms and tried not to smile, covering her mouth with the tea cup instead as she sipped.

“About what?” Ron frowned as well.

“About Hermione and the way you two’ve been holdin’ grudges with her and even Heather.” Hagrid sighed. “Firs’ of all, Harry. She’s yer sister and when she fell of her broom yeh should’ve been there.”

She knew instantly that Hermione had been coming down to see Hagrid. Though she was even more confused now why Hermione had been telling her she didn’t have time to hang out. They could have both been coming down to see Hagrid and complaining about Ron and Harry together… Though maybe she came down during Heather’s practices? But she always said she was working on essays and studying arithmancy charts in the library during those times. Heather frowned into her tea. Hermione’s times weren’t adding up and haven’t been all year.

“And in case yeh also haven’t noticed. She’s been in a righ’ state ‘bout you two and a lot more. Comin’ down ter visit me fer a while now, talkin’ ‘bout feeling lonely. Firs’ you two weren’t talkin’ to both Hermione and Heather ‘bout the broom, an’ now yer not talkin’ to her because her cat – ”

“The one that ATE Scabbers!” Ron interrupted. “She won’t even apologize!”

“Well… And she’s been cryin’, yeh know. Things are seemin’ rough fer her at the moment. I think she’s bitten off more’n she can chew, all the work she’s doin’ – still found time ter help me with Buckbeak’s case even! She found some really good stuff fer Buckbeak… Could even stand a chance now I reckon…”

Harry looked at all the files and open books with marks and closed ones with little scraps sticking out in them. “We should’ve helped with that – Sorry, Hagrid – I – ”

“Oh, I’m not blamin’ yeh fer that. Merlin knows how busy yeh all are too, with Quidditch an’ school an’ classes. An’ Harry, you with far more than you should be dealin’ with.” Hagrid shook his head. “No, I ain’t blamin’ you fer that… Jus’ thought yeh two’d value yer friendship with Hermione more than brooms and rats… Jus’ not talkin’ to her is – ”

“Well she won’t apologize!” Ron insisted. “My pet is dead because she was careless and kept the door WIDE open for her cat to come in and eat him up – even though I TOLD her to be careful! If she just apologized and admitted her cat murdered Scabbers, then I’d talk to her again.”

“Well… some people can be downrigh’ foolish ‘bout their pets…” Hagrid tried to reason with Ron a bit more but it made no difference.

They spent the rest of their time with Hagrid talking about Buckbeak’s case. Hermione had done real thorough research and they agreed with Hagrid that Buckbeak did have a chance. At nine he walked them back to the castle and they waved goodbye to him.

“So are you going to talk to Hermione again then?”

Ron curled his fingers into a tight fist. “Maybe.”

“We should, I think.” Harry started up the stairs.

“Oh alright,” Ron gave up. He climbed the stairs higher and turned. “But on a trial bases.” He turned back and kept climbing out of sight.

Harry came back down and stood next to Heather. She hadn’t noticed until now that he was slightly taller than her. She looked at the top of his head and wondered how much was just hair. She didn’t want to be shorter, so maybe she should start stretching out her back with her exercises, or even just willing her body to grow more overnight. Anything.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t talking to you.” Harry crossed his arms. “Will you tell me next time you decide to tell on me?”

Heather smiled. “Yes. I’ll give you at least an hour’s warning so you can hide either yourself or whatever thing I’m having a teacher confiscate.”

Harry smiled and stuck out his hand. “Deal. But same goes for me…”

She took it and shook. “Fair.”

He looked into her eyes and hesitated for a second. “And no secrets?”

She looked around, confused by the question and why he was asking her that and quickly looked back into his eyes. She wanted to lie, open her mouth and say ‘deal’, but she couldn’t. She didn’t want to tell him about going over to Draco’s house, and what she recently realized was the start of a friendship with him, so she just squeezed his hand tighter and shook it again, keeping her lips closed.

“Alright.” Harry let go and climbed the stairs. “Night!”

“Night,” she called after him.

She looked down at her hand and frowned. It wasn’t just Draco though… Was it? She had known about the map before him… She had broken into the library and not told him… She was keeping Professor Lupin being a werewolf to herself… She had Ministry banned books under her mattress and he knew nothing about that…

She started walking towards the dungeon stairs at the end of the corridor, keeping her eyes on her hand. What was the difference between a secret and just something personal? She reached the bottom of the stairs and turned a few corners to reach the entrance to the common room. She whispered the password and entered.

Her attention was drawn towards the group of students standing around the bulletin board. She walked over to Draco and sat next to him.

“Professor Snape’s just been in to pin up the next Hogsmeade trip.” He motioned behind him to the crowd without looking up from his book. “I’ll probably be going, most likely. That Sirius Black business might have made McGonagall forget about our detentions and I doubt Professor Snape will remind her. Especially since the Quidditch Cup is on the line.”

“Don’t remind me,” Heather groaned. “What’re you going to do about Harry? Has Marcus talked to you at all about it?” Draco was no match for Harry, even before the firebolt. Heather had worked hard to get him up to Harry’s flying level and the Nimbus two-thousand-and-one is a lot faster, making his jitters on it visible again. Of course she couldn’t mention any of that.

“No. He’s still upset about getting knocked back by Harry… What spell did he use anyways?”

Heather shrugged.

“Well you can tell Potter that I’ll hit him back with it harder.” Draco stood and placed the book back on the shelf next to the fireplace. “Maybe I’ll have Father send some books over.” He looked at her and smiled.

She rolled her eyes and headed into the girl’s dormitories for bed. She laid down and thought about Hogsmeade and about the books tucked under her mattress, about the potion and the recipe she had in mind. If by some miracle Harry decided not to go… then she wouldn’t either, and so it was up to ‘the Universe and Fate’ – as Professor Trelawney liked to say – if they stayed or went this weekend.

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[jungkookiebus]

Amidst the Clouds | kth

Genre: established relationship, smut, nonidol! Pairing: taehyung x reader  Word Count: 1.9k Warnings: mentions of drug use (marijuana), vaginal sex, porn watching, creampie Summary: It’s an absolute chill night, you both are high and listening to chillwave; but you’re soon a tangle of hot limbs. Sex with Tae became just a little hotter.  Author’s Note: I don’t normally do these. I wrote this while extremely high and also edited it high hahahah. I apologize if this is going to be the most off the wall thing you’ve ever read. 

The synthwave music drumming from your speakers resonated deep within your mind, bounced around there lazily like a ball on the ocean, and looped back out into the room for the rest of the universe to hear. Or at least that’s how it felt. The THC that ran through your blood and to your brain had you thinking about everything but nothing all at once. Your heart seemed to thud in time with the beat and you laughed softly thinking how absurd that sounded.

“Something funny?” Tae whispered between kisses down your back.

You were currently devoid of clothing head to toe, on your stomach, and hugging the pillow tightly in front of you. Your entire body seemed to melt into the mattress. A slight tingle grazed across yours lips. You could have fallen asleep if it weren’t for Tae dipping his hand between your legs just then.

“Just thought of something funny.”

He hummed in agreement; he had no need to understand what was going through your mind to get what you meant. He was too busy concentrating on his fingers sliding into you while also remembering to close his mouth every now and again so he wouldn’t fucking drool on you. It was hard enough to keep focused while sober because he was so damn enamored by you. Now he had to try and keep himself from forgetting one of his tasks. He was brought back to reality seconds later when a pretty moan fell from your mouth. He sat up, pulling his hand from you, and spread your ass cheeks to get a better look.

“Your cunt is beautiful, baby.” If you could see him now, which you were too lazy to turn around anyway, you would be able to see the reverence that crossed his face. He was looking at you with a sharper eye than he usually did; marijuana gave him the explicit ability to only focus on one thing at a time right now.

“Tae?” you whispered.

His body seemed caught in a current as he swayed a little.

“Yea, babe?”

“You gonna just stare at it or fuck it?”

“Fuck,” you heard him say under his breath.

Another laugh escaped you as he pulled your hips upwards. You kept your face comfortably planted into the bed beneath you, ready to sleep or get fucked at a moment’s notice. He slipped two fingers inside of you once again. A fire, moving as slow honey, flowed outwards from your center to the rest of your body.

“Does that feel good?”

You moaned in contentment and he needed no more details than that. He let his fingers scrape along your walls, collecting every bit of arousal before he pulled them out and slid them along his length. He leaned over you, catching himself on one hand as he jerked himself over your ass.

“What do you want?”

You knew exactly what he wanted to hear. For a second you thought you might play dumb but decided against it.

“I want to feel your giant cock inside of me so badly…Taehyung.”

He moved with expert skill that showed that he had done this with you hundreds of times; almost as if some part of his brain was still trying to recover the damage he had done to the rest. If his brain could protest it would say something like, ‘Please just stick your dick in her already so we can focus on not dying.’

For some reason he loved it when you called him by his full name during sex. Every day life was full of Tae or TaeTae in sweet talk, but you only ever used his full name if he were in trouble or you were wanting to get fucked and mixing pleasure with pain was one of his kinks.

You moaned so delicately for him again as he shoved his full length inside, sitting for a second as you adjusted, and he reveled in feeling your velvet walls around him once more. He started his movements out slow, eyes closed, hands lazily draped on your hips, and hardwired his focus into chewing his bottom lip. His body seemed to take over as he fucked into you harder. There was a thought at the forefront of his mind that he wanted to keep, but it kept slipping away as he now focused on the way his cock felt inside of you. He snapped back for a few seconds and remembered what he wanted to do. Stopping his hips for a moment, he reached for his phone, and pulled up the video he had (thankfully) prepped earlier while he was in the right state of mind. He hit play and dropped the phone in front of your face.

Your head came up as you were startled by the heavy object landing so close to you. As your eyes adjusted to the bright screen they also widened in surprise. Tae was now moving fluidly inside of you and you became more aware as you saw the scene in front of you. This was a video you had watched before so Tae must have been going through your history again. It was a porn you had watched a few times; a pretty butch girl was fucking a heavyset brunette with a strap-on. You instantly thought back to the orgasm you had with your vibrator as you watched this, thinking at that time you had a good orgasm and couldn’t wait to fucking pass out from his dick.

“You like watching her fuck that girl?” He had leaned back over you, hips flush against yours as he deeply thrust into you. His voice was hot in your ear as he whispered the words that flowed so prettily from his plush lips.

“Yes…,” you whispered. Your soul felt like it had separated from your body. Every inch of your skin felt as if it were being pulled skyward and you just floated lazily with it. Your eyes came in and out of focus on the screen in front of you but that was okay; you had seen this before so your subconscious was making up what your brain lacked to register.

“What do you like about it?” He kissed the skin behind your ear and his tongue came out to flick at your lobe. “Describe it to me.” His hand wrapped around in front of you and he started rub lazily on your clit. You clenched around him with the added sensations that sent waves out to your limbs again.

“They’re both beautiful.” Your fingers dug into the comforter under you. You tried to find some type of grounding to remind yourself that you were here on earth, but your brain had you believing you were floating in the heavens.

“You like watching girls fuck each other often?”

Your mouth fell open in a gasp as he thrust particularly hard and pushed against your clit.

“Yes,” you whined. You really hoped he wouldn’t ask more questions. You were impossibly turned on, but you hadn’t the capacity to give him a full fucking scenario into your endeavors in porn.

His breathing got heavier in your ear. His body felt incredibly warm on top of yours, but the added slide of sweat on your skin made you feel closer to him somehow. His long hair fell in front of his eyes and tickled along your ear and cheek.

“What if…,” he started, taking a breath as he concentrated on his movements, “I found a pretty girl to fuck you?”

You had never been more turned on in your life and you had had several Grand Slams at Dennys that you claimed, on several occasions, was like a sexual experience. In front of you, the soft moans of the girl being fucked had gotten louder as the other girl held her legs and fucked her harder.

“I promise I’d find you a sweet, pretty girl to fuck this pussy of yours. And I can watch her fuck you. You know how hot that would be? Seeing you pounded by someone else.”

He turned his head to bite at your neck as he attached his lips to your skin and sucked hard. Your hips wanted to collapse but you willed your body to cooperate. The angle his dick was hitting you at had you edging closer and closer; and the video playing in front of you spurred you on. He dropped from his hand to his elbow so that he could put his hand over your mouth as he started to fuck you harder, his other fingers still on your clit. You moaned hard against his hand.

“Please, baby, let me find someone to fuck you. I would do anything you wanted, and I wouldn’t touch her. I’m explicitly yours.”

This had come up in conversation before, the curiosity, but I guess now that was the one thing his addled mind had to decided to dredge up. You moaned at the thought. Being so open and vulnerable and having Tae watch was something you had fantasized about often. Both of you knew all this talk was rhetorical right now, so you didn’t bother offering up any details on the matter.

Screams came from his phone as the girl came around the dildo.

Tae thrust harder as his fingers moved along your clit just the right way because even through the haze of the drugs, he knew your body better than anyone else ever did.

“I would gladly sit to the side, watch you get split open, and tell you what a good slut you are letting someone else besides me use you.”

You were most definitely drooling on Tae’s hand, not that he noticed nor cared. That didn’t matter, though, because right now you had the perfect cock sliding in and out of you and you wondered how in the hell you got this lucky.

Your lips parted behind his hand and he took the opportunity to slide his pointer finger inside. You sucked down around him, much like you had done to his cock hundreds of times. He moaned as his thrust became more pointed. His fingers glided against you at just the right pace that would draw your orgasm out and hold it there. And hold it there he did. Before you knew it, you were coming so hard around him your eyes rolled back. He bit down on your skin as your cunt became a vice around him, effectively spurring his release.

He tasted blood on his tongue, but you hadn’t seemed to notice. You were so lost in your orgasm that he was sure you wouldn’t know until tomorrow.

His thrusts slowed and your hips finally came down onto the bed with Tae following behind. He shifted his weight and came to lay on his side beside you, legs draped haphazardly over yours. You moaned in happiness as you closed your eyes. Tae’s arm was draped over his face, mouth open as he took in everything that had just happened.

A few hours later, or at least that’s how it felt to the absolute jelly that were your bones, you awoke. For all you knew it could have been barely five minutes. You hadn’t moved a muscle from when you last closed your eyes. Slowly, you opened them to see Tae exactly how you had last seen him, arm over his face except this time he was snoring.

Not even caring about a shower, clothes, or blankets you closed your eyes again knowing you guys were going to have another conversation if either of you remembered the details of this night. But for now, you had boarded your first class flight of post-orgasm bliss and were nestled comfortably amidst the clouds.