#but i would rather have the one that stood on a picket line than the one who STARTED A COUP

[overlyemotionalbreakfastcereal]

ok with all the good things biden's administration has been doing or tried to do yall americans BETTER fucking not pull out that same motherfucking 'both sides are equally bad' bullshit when voting comes around.

[ghost-proofbaby]

congrats on 1k!!! 💙💙🌻🌻 I would like to request Eddie and my favorite song of the moment which is 'House Song' by Searows. it's kinda sad but cozy, so feel free to go easy on my heart and not write it angsty. or do. 😭🥰

thank you bluey <3 oh my word, this is my first time hearing this song and it is so terribly cozy and yet so sad in such a familiar way. i chose to focus on the lyric "something inside of me is rotten, i have to find it and cut it out", and also was inspired by the line from Euripides in which Orestes says "it's rotten work." and Pylades replies "not to me. not if it's you."

also, totally unrelated, but if i could lock this piece away in my soul until my days end, i would. i got way too carried away and made a fool of myself i fear.

warnings: none except bad writing and me taking a metaphor too far as i tried too hard though be warned this one is in third person rather than second to switch it up!!!

1k celebration - come party with me!

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People do not make good homes.

It is a hard lesson Eddie has had to learn in his twenty three years of life. 

Wide, innocent eyes are not open windows with billowing curtains. Caressing limbs are not bed sheets to wrap you up on wintry mornings. Pursed lips are not crackling speakers bleeding out familiar tunes as a record turns against a needle. Soft kisses aren’t the scent of clean laundry, tired yawns aren’t creaks from the attic, and ribs are not enough to build up the four walls to make a home. 

It happens every time; Eddie lets someone in, he opens himself up and lets the vulnerability drip from him in waves, until the fatal day comes in which suddenly the front door is closed on him, never to open again. The locks have been changed, the windows have been slammed shut, the sheets have been tucked under mattresses to grow cold. All the familiar, comforting old vinyls lay to rest and gather dust in a crate in the corner of abandoned rooms. 

People do not make good homes. He has come to accept this. Until she came along. 

Maybe her soft eyes weren't open windows to let in a summer’s breeze, but he swore he could still see the sun pouring in through their freshly painted panes. Maybe her steady arms weren’t clean sheets from the dryer, but they still blanket him in warmth all the same when they’d wrap their way around his waist. Whenever she’d open her mouth and give him a glimpse into her mind, it didn’t sound like his uncle’s old albums. It was something new, an unfamiliar melody he could neither tune out nor hum along to. She was a labyrinth of possibilities, a new shiny two-story house with the picket white fence. Bare feet against wooden floors that didn’t creak with protest, shimmering light fixtures that didn’t flicker with uncertainty, a front door swung wide open as if to say, come in. Make yourself at home. 

And when he made no move to come inside, when he stayed planted in the pristine front yard clear of weeds and verdant with hope, she had simply left the porch light on for him. She shut the door, but she never turned the lock. A reassurance that her offer still stood, in soft smiles and understanding nods, until he was ready. 

People should not make good homes. But then again, people like her existed. 

Eddie kept up the battle long enough. But eventually, the war inside his mind had raged long enough, and he walked up those front porch steps. He reached out for the unlocked door, and it was a breath of relief when it opened for him with a gentle click. She never locked him out. She had kept her promise of an offer. And when he finally arrived in the entryway, when he finally breached the threshold, she was waiting there, eager and gentle and beautiful, already reaching for his coat. She had been waiting. Always waiting, always patient. Just for him.

Her walls were fresh with paint, layering over any imperfections left behind by previous tenants. All scuff marks left by kitchen screaming matches had long been buffed out of mahogany boards. There are no ticks in door frames to account for the change of her height over the years, no frames of the ones before him she had let in. No signs of anyone having made her house a home before him. He couldn’t see her history in the way she could see his. Instead, he had to listen to it. Over cups of lukewarm coffee made just the way he likes it, over photo albums she describes that sit in a box in the attic, left to rot but never be forgotten. He learns of her past as she speaks of it as if it didn’t happen to her, as if it had been some movie she’d seen on late night television. And his heart aches. Because as she tells him all this, as she hands over a key to her heart and shows him how to unlatch her bay windows, he can see what her eyes beg of him. 

This has never been a home before. Please, make this house a home. Please.

But he’s terrified. His past is a conglomeration of abandoned cookie cutter homes, void of the warmth he feels beneath her surface. A doom town waiting for the atomic explosion. That’s what he is – the atomic explosion. He is the chaos and the destruction, the thing to burn down all that he holds sacred. It wasn’t hard to figure out; he had always been the common denominator in his own rotation of his own tenants. He’s terrified to add her home onto the end of the street, to lay in wait for the day he ruins all that they are. All that she is. 

But then she’s kissing him. She’s kissing him, and she’s holding him, and she’s reading her favorite books aloud to him in the afternoon lulls, and he can’t help but indulge. Because she’s home. She’s baked cookies and framed photos of better days. She’s hot chocolate and white Christmas mornings. She’s strong oak trees in the backyard and fresh cut flowers in the kitchen. 

People do not make good homes. But she is more than a metaphor.

The key to her hangs heavy on his keyring, but it is worth the weight on nights like tonight. Nights where he watches the rise and fall of her chest as her cheeks presses to his bare shoulder, her hand still curled around his even in her sleep. She loves him, she waits for him, she makes him feel more at home than anyone has in his twenty three years of life. Even after she had discovered the rot deep inside of him, she stayed and persisted as she digs it out and places down new baseboards, prepared to stand by his side as he makes the necessary renovations to himself that have been years in the making. She’s everything to him. She’s his home, his past be damned. 

People do not always make good homes. They are nothing more than houses, and just because the lights are on in the windows does not mean they are meant to be the place you lay your head to rest. They do not come prefilled with the love and warmth that is needed to be good homes. It is a process, aching and terrible and hard enough work that most people will not bother. But with her in his arms, Eddie thinks he is finally learning what it means to make a house a home. 

It was never about him making her house a home. It was about him finding home in himself, with her picture on his bedside table and her breath on his neck as she rests easy beside him. This lesson, as it turns out, wasn’t quite as hard to learn.

[harukimurakitty]

Take Me Home, Country Roads (1): To The Place I Belong

❥ NakedToaster x Reader

August 30th, 2009

Late August evenings in your home state of Colorado were vastly different than the ones in Texas, that was for sure. By this late in the day, the temperature would’ve gone down to sixty-five degrees at the highest, and the crickets would’ve stopped chirping hours ago. You couldn’t remember the last time the sun had been out for this long, even in the summer months back home. As you carried boxes of your belongings from your sister’s car to the house you’d be staying at for the next year, the only thing on your mind was how unbearable all of this was. Texas was even more disappointing than you expected, from the thick layer of inescapable humidity to the bloodthirsty mosquitoes that followed you every time you stepped outside.

Initially, you had been proud of your older sister, Sable,  for getting into Fields University, one of the top research universities in all of Texas. Getting into a prestigious college like Fields couldn’t have been easy, especially out of state. The longer you unpacked, however, the more that feeling began to dwindle. It was replaced with thoughts of why she couldn’t have just gone to a college in Denver like all her other peers or at least picked a school that wasn’t in the hottest, most moist environment known to man.

While you contemplated the dreadfulness of your current situation, one of the three boxes stacked in your arms unexpectedly tilted to the side and burst all over the front porch. The sound of glass shattering effectively snapped you out of your pity party and into a panic. You hadn’t even remembered packing anything glass aside from your desk lamp and perfume bottles. Whatever it was that broke, you hoped it wasn’t anything valuable.

“(Y/N), seriously?” Sable’s voice sounded from behind you. Just great, you thought, another lecture . “How hard is it to carry a box inside? Y’know what,” -she grabbed the other two boxes from your arms and into her own before stepping inside, ”-just stay out of the way. Go explore the neighborhood or something.” You opened your mouth to protest, but she slammed the door before you even got the chance. Looking around, you were lost on what to do next. You hadn’t seen any stores nearby when you first drove into town, and the last thing you wanted to do was get lost this late in the evening. 

Stepping off the porch, you did a quick scan of the neighborhood. On your left, there was seemingly a dead end with nothing but single-story houses that looked identical to yours. It was a very picket-fence suburb you had moved into, one that you wouldn’t expect a college student to be able to afford. Sable had upgraded to the house from her old apartment two months before you came along, soon after getting her phlebotomy license and beginning work at a nearby hospital. You didn’t know exactly how much she made, but it was enough to take care of both of you and pay the $1,100 monthly rent for the two-bedroom house. Naturally, she was receiving money from your parents, but that was more of a luxury than a necessity. After you got a job, which was not optional according to your sister, you two would make enough to be completely independent.

Turning your head in the opposite direction, you saw the same thing minus the dead end. The only thing that caught your eye was a dirt trail that seemingly went into the forest behind your row of houses. It wasn’t a Blair Witch kind of path, but rather a Studio Ghibli one. From where you stood, you could see the setting sun illuminate the red and orange trees along the trail, almost as if it was lined with paper lanterns or something. Still, you had more self-preservation than walking into a forest late at night, so you shelved the idea and began walking along the neighborhood’s road.

When you rounded the corner, it was almost as if you had stepped into a different side of town. Instead of the homey, single-story homes that lined your street, there were two-story suburbanite mansions as far as the eye could see. Maybe mansions weren’t the right word, but they were certainly bigger than any of the other homes you had seen in the area. You had no idea how you missed that street when you arrived, but you assumed they were covered by the thicket of nearby trees. Warm light from the windows of the houses shone into the street, casting a warm glow across the asphalt you were walking on. That was another downside to Texas- there were no sidewalks anywhere.

As much as you wanted to continue exploring down that road, you weren’t about to play with God or Texas’s gun laws. The last thing you wanted to do was get shot on your first day in the state for trespassing. You reluctantly turned around and headed straight, not back to your house but to the main road that went into town. As you got closer, you could see a water tower in the distance with the word OTTAWA in big, bold lettering. You knew it wasn’t rare for states to recycle town names, but to use Canada’s capital? The local government must’ve seriously had no shame.

You walked around for another twenty-ish minutes, just looking around all the nearby streets and praying you’d stumble across a convenience store or gas station, with no success. When the sky turned a dark purple, you took that as your sign to start heading home. Throughout your entire walk, you saw little signs of human life aside from the occasional sound of a car slamming shut or a door creaking open. It was beyond unsettling. You concluded everyone probably died from the mosquitoes in the area, and you and Sable were the last survivors. The final girls, so to speak, regardless of gender.

As it turned out, you hadn’t walked nearly as far as you thought. After rounding a couple of corners, you were right back where you had started. Home, or in your mosquito apocalyptic delusion, base camp. Walking up to your porch, you could see Sable inside the kitchen cooking what you presumed to be dinner. Her car’s trunk door was shut, so you assumed all the unpacking was done. You hadn’t brought that much, to begin with, just your clothes, a couple of books, and some keepsakes. Most of your furniture would arrive via FedEx, so you’d have to sleep on the couch until your mattress was delivered. It was the cherry on top of the world’s shittiest cake.

“Ugh, you’re back already? I was hoping somebody picked you off the street already.” Sable greeted from the next room over. You gave her the finger through the open doorway.

“I wasn’t out that long, was I? It felt like thirty minutes, max.” You checked the clock that was hung next to the TV in the living room. 8:20. You had been gone for a little over an hour.

“Time flies when your having fun, I guess.” She shrugged and turned back to the stove, turning it off. You made a sour face at the comment, to which she laughed.

“Oh my god, you’re so fucking corny.” You scowled. “And for the record, I very much still hate it here.” You trudged from the living room into the kitchen. The house was cozy; nothing too big but far from shabby for a high schooler and college student living alone. The kitchen and dining room were combined into one room, with a kitchenette on one side and a dining table on the other. The living room wasn’t the biggest either, maybe large enough for four or so people, and the rooms were a decent size. The house was average but still better than any of the $1,100 studio apartments Sable had previously lived at. 

“It could be worse- we could be living in College Station. Anyway, the food’s ready if you wanna eat.” She leaned the pot she was stirring over a bit to show you what was inside. Ramen. You sat down in the seat closest to the front window to look outside. Not that you could see anything, the sun had now fully set, but it was the thought that mattered. 

“What the hell is College Station?” You questioned as Sable slid a bowl full of ramen in your direction.

“Imagine a town full of sorority girls and frat boys.” She responded, serving a bowl for herself and sitting down across from you.

“No way.”

“Yes, way. I had a group of my friends try to convince me to go there for spring break. They said it had all the cute guys in Texas.” Your sister rolled her eyes and shoved a forkful of ramen into her mouth.

“Did you go?” You asked.

“Hell no. And hopefully, I’ll never have to see, hear, or think of that place again once I graduate.” She swallowed and looked back up at you, eyes alight with sudden interest. “How are you feeling about school tomorrow?”

“Aw, it’s so funny you think I’m going.” You chuckled dryly. There was absolutely zero chance of you going to school the following day. After driving for sixteen hours straight from Colorado to bumfuck, middle-of-nowhere Texas, the devil himself would have to haul your ass to school for you to go.

“It’s so funny you think you have a choice,” Sable replied. Unfortunately for you, you forgot your sister was basically the devil incarnate. You two got along well enough, but memories of her putting Nair in your shampoo came flooding back as soon as she responded. Technically she couldn’t force you to go, and you could easily win a fight with her if it came to that, but you weren’t too keen on finding out what she’d do if you skipped. “Look, we just had the worst drive of our lives, but it’s important to get a headstart on school.” She reasoned.

“What, do they teach all business majors that?” You glared.

“What the hell does that have to do with my major?” Sable scowled, throwing you a dirty look. “All I’m saying is you’re already gonna stand out enough, what with being a new kid and all. Do you want to draw more attention to yourself by skipping the first day?”

“God, you go to that fancy college, and all of a sudden think you’re sooo much smarter than everyone else-” You began. You loved teasing her by making fun of her education. It was entertaining to see how riled up she could get in such a short amount of time.

“Fuck off- I’m going to sleep.” Sable walked over to the sink and began to rinse it out. “You packed your alarm, right?”

“Yeah, why?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t turn it up too loud. I don’t know how thin these walls are, but I’ll kill you if the noise wakes me up. I just drove across four states, and I need my rest.”

“You’re gonna have to wake up anyway. You have to take me to school.” As soon as the words left your mouth, Sable burst out laughing. “What? What’s so funny?” You stood up from your spot at the table to dump your dish in the sink, side-eyeing her the entire time. After several attempts to catch her breath from her outburst, she spoke.

“I’m not taking you to school tomorrow. You can walk.” You stared in disbelief. You had walked around for how long? An hour? And not once had you seen a single school. Had you missed something, or had your sister actually gone mad?

“No, the hell I can’t! I get you’re busy or whatever, but you were the one who offered to take me in. I walked around for an hour and didn’t see anything but houses and dead ends. How far away is this school?” You couldn’t believe this. You had experienced betrayal before but from your sister?  

“Your navigational skills are ass. I’m not surprised you didn’t see it. It’s maybe a twenty-minute walk if you take a shortcut through the trail on the left, probably forty if you stick to the main road, though.” Sable estimated. “Just go straight; you can’t miss it. Don’t forget to wash your plate.” And with that, she unceremoniously exited the room.

The only thing on your mind for the rest of the night, throughout your unpacking, showering, and teeth-brushing, was just how much you were starting to hate Texas and just how long it’d be until you could leave.

[kalpasio]

A Post Kalpas Odyssey

Welcome Home!

A Kalpas x Reader fic taking place in APHO, Chapter 2 below!

Having a strange guy you just met a couple of hours ago because he attacked you, joining your group was not something you were particularly happy about. You had to keep an eye on him as well as the new creatures that might attack you. On the bright side, he was a very skilled fighter, his Honkai compatibility might be higher than Adam’s, and it certainly was nice to stun your enemies. On the other hand…

“Can you stop getting hurt?” Sunita grumbled rather loudly while healing Kalpas for the fifth time after just as many fights.

“I don’t need you to heal every scratch I get,” he glared at her as she worked, and you quickly stepped in before the two could kill each other. They had argued at every possible opportunity, and your own patience was wearing thin with them.

“Look, if we just move a bit slower instead of running straight into things, I can take the enemies out without a full-on fight and save us all some trouble.” They both turned away from each other and crossed their arms with a huff, but begrudgingly agreed.

When your team came across another creature, you grabbed Kalpas’ arm and shook your head ‘no’ so he wouldn’t gain its attention. Approaching silently, you raised both scythes and brought them down, killing your opponent in one blow.

Things moved much faster after that, though Kalpas would grumble under his breath about how you were ruining all the fun. You had to assure him that there would be plenty of chances to fight in the future, and even then, he still thought you were lame for avoiding a battle.

“You wanna fight so bad? Come here!” Sunita pulled out her ring blades and held her hand ready to draw a sigil. “I’ll give you a fight!” Kalpas’ hands caught fire without a second thought, and you found yourself between the two again.

“We are not fighting each other,” you spoke in a stern tone. “Either play nice, or go back to base, but I am not putting up with you two arguing every five seconds.” Surprisingly, they listened. Kalpas extinguished his flames and stood straight with his arms crossed, while Sunita almost sent you an apologetic grimace and lowered her hand.

“There are some homes just ahead,” she said, and you looked over your shoulder to see where she was pointing.

“Let’s go give them a look,” you lead the way over with the other two following behind, making faces at each other.

All the houses blended into the town, clean and quaint, just like all the other buildings you’d seen so far. If there were front yards here, you were sure they’d all have white picket fences. After checking the area quickly for monsters, you tried the door to the first house and were practically welcomed in. The door was unlocked and swung open without a squeak.

Inside, there was a rug in the entryway, an empty shoe rack, and straight ahead of you was a kitchen that looked just as empty. Walking in, you saw a fridge, stove, sink, dishwasher, and even a few appliances sat on the granite counters, but it looked as though it had never been lived in. Just behind the kitchen, there was a TV and two couches that formed an ‘L’ with a bit of a gap between them, along with an empty bookshelf. A lone remote sat on the coffee table that was between the couches, but the batteries were long dead.

On the wall opposite the TV, there was a set of stairs that lead to a surprisingly large second floor. Five doors lined the hallway: one right at the top of the stairs, one on the left side of the hall, two on the right, and the last door at the far end.

“This would be good for the other squad members,” Sunita commented as you looked around. Humming in agreement, you pushed open the door directly in front of you. It opened into a rather large and rather empty master bedroom. A bathroom was directly to your left, and a queen size bed to your right.

There was also a closet (empty), dresser (empty), two nightstands (empty), and a wardrobe that was—you guessed it—empty. The whole place reminded you of moving into the dorms at St. Freya’s; all the furniture was there, but the rooms echoed, and it was hard to believe people had lived there at some point.

Further down the hall, the rooms on the right and left were mirror images of each other. Full size bed, dresser, desk, and nightstand, everything just as empty as the first room. The second door on the right opened into a bathroom, and the door at the end of the hall was another bedroom, only this one was slightly larger and had a window seat.

Going back down the stairs, you marked the house on your map and went back outside. “So, we just need two more with three rooms,” Sunita started leading you past some more shops.

“One more. I wanted one of those lofts above a shop, and I don’t think you two could make it more than ten minutes without killing each other.” Sunita pouted at your honesty, but she didn’t deny it.

“It wouldn’t take me that long to kill her,” Kalpas spoke while casually adjusting his glove. You sent him a scowl, but he ignored it and continued. “Your leader said you shouldn’t be out here alone. I’ll be fine on my own, but you two would be dead within the day.” Stepping in front of Kalpas, you stopped walking, forcing him to stop as well.

“None of us should be here alone. I had planned to find a place near one of the other houses, but if you’re so worried, all three of us can stay together.” You could feel Sunita glare at the back of your head at the bluff, but you pretended not to notice.

“Since we wouldn’t last a day out here, you can protect us, how does that sound?” Spite had always been one of your biggest motivators, even if it landed you in some hot water. If Kalpas wanted to treat you like a child, then you were going to make it his problem.

“Fine,” he spoke with no grumble or growl, or under-the-breath swearing. Just, ‘fine’, and then he took a step around you and kept walking.

That had not been the reaction you were expecting, and now you and Sunita were both looking at each other with wide eyes. You had just walked yourself into sharing a house with a stranger who hated your best friend—and by extension, you.

Shit.

Kalpas called for you both to hurry up, and you took that as an excuse to run away from the furious rant you were sure Sunita was going to be giving you.

It didn’t take very long to find two more houses with rooms for everyone, and you were happy to return to the base and get away from the tense atmosphere in your group. Carys thanked you for your work, then everyone ate and for the first and last time, you all slept on the floor of the base.

The next morning, your main goal was to get through the day with all the stiffness you felt from sleeping on a concrete floor. Other than that, everyone was going to set up their rooms. Personal items were pretty scarce, considering you were technically on a mission. It still took most of the day for everyone to move in, even with Timido and Kalpas’ terrifying strength.

Carole was bouncing off the walls, Sunita and Kalpas were at each other’s throats, and Mei and Bronya were stopping Carys from running away. Eventually, everyone got settled, rations were split among the three groups, and responsibilities were split among the housemates.

Sunita demanded that she be in charge of cleaning because she didn’t trust you or Kalpas. You would be in charge of the small garden nearby and making sure there were enough supplies and energy to keep everything going. Kalpas actually assigned you to that job because he wanted to do all the cooking, and you weren’t going to argue with that. You didn’t want to point fingers, but two of the three people in your house were very hard-headed, and you weren’t one of them.

In the next few weeks, some changes were made to your arrangement. Kalpas was now in charge of cleaning dishes as well because he would use every plate and fork in the kitchen just to make Sunita do more work. You added “Official moderator” to your list of jobs, and Sunita started helping with the garden because she wanted to plant some herbs that needed special care.

Since your team now comprised of ten people, everyone took turns completing daily tasks. Most times you were paired with Kalpas. Having two lightning users on a team didn’t make sense, and Timido would only work with you if Bronya was there. You and Adam got along, but he would do daily tasks twice to make up for the fact that Sunita and Lyle played support roles. Given that you were the only one yet to complain about working with Kalpas, that mean you were stuck with him.

Carole seemed completely unbothered by Kalpas’ rude comments, so she worked with you both as well. Despite how calm Bronya seemed, you could see her eye twitch when she spent too long with you both, and Carys really just wanted to go home. Nine times out of ten, your team was Carole, Kalpas, you, and Sunita, with Lyle covering the support role if your friend was especially fed up with Kalpas.

Sometimes your task was just exploring the area, trying to find hidden chests or resources, most times, however, you job was taking out bosses. Especially because Kalpas and Carole enjoyed picking fights, you often found yourself stuck clearing out difficult enemies, and if you were scouting, it was new areas that had more monsters to kill.

This week had been quiet, so when you and your team left base, Adam tagged along at Carole’s insistence, and Lyle left at the same time to do some work on his own. After taking out a chariot (thank you Carole), you continued along the bay until you reached the end of the sidewalk. Several umbrellas and inflatable boats made a path across the water to a location you couldn’t see, but you sure as hell were curious.

When Carole saw you eyeing the umbrellas, she made the first jump. Adam quickly caught on and followed after her. You went right behind Sunita; helping her stay balanced, and Kalpas was behind you. Passing under a bridge, you came around a corner and saw a carousel standing alone on a small island.

“That’s odd,” Adam spoke while circling around the area.

“How did this even get here?” Sunita asked, but everyone just shrugged. Walking around the carousel, you tried to find any hints as to where it came from, but when you looked up, your group was one short.

“Where’s Kalpas?” You knew he had come across the water with you, but again, you were met with shrugs. Adam hesitantly touched one of the horses while you checked the nearby water, and you were startled from your search by Carole’s cry.

“Senpai!” You and Sunita looked up to find your group short by one again. “He just touched the horse and disappeared!”

“We don’t know where he went, or where that thing might take us,” Sunita reasoned. “We should go get help before—”

You looked her dead in the eyes and touched the horse.

Next second, you had a beautiful view overlooking False Bay. The Ferris wheel was to your right, and the whole town lay before you. And then it was rapidly falling away; or rather, you were falling towards it. There was nothing nearby to hook your scythes into to stop your fall, all you could do was hope you got out of this with only a bruise on your ass.

When you did reach the ground, you had your eyes screwed shut, but the impact hurt much less than you expected. Opening one eye, you saw Adam sprawled on top of a very dazed Lyle, both on the ground. You, however, weren’t on the ground. You were being held by a set of very strong arms. Kalpas’ arms.

Sucking in a harsh breath, you squirmed, and he pulled his arms away, letting you drop to the ground with an ‘oof.’

“’Thanks for saving my ass, Kalpas,’” he mocked your voice. “Yeah, no problem,” he answered himself while glaring at you. Standing, you mumbled a quick ‘thank you’ and rubbed your hands where they were a little scratched up. Adam and Lyle were just pulling themselves up when two more yells were heard, and they both went crashing back down.

Carole was immediately on her feet and yanking poor Adam back up so she could give him a hug. “Oh, thank you senpai!” she grinned and if his bones weren’t crushed before, they sure were after that hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay!”

Sunita on the other hand, remained sitting on Lyle’s back, checking her fingernails for any (nonexistent) imperfections. “You really know how to put the ‘pillow’ in ‘pillow princess,’” she drawled, making Lyle let out a groan.

“Why couldn’t you catch her instead,” Lyle asked Kalpas, referring to the girl still using his back as a chair.

“You looked like you had it,” he shrugged, making Lyle shove his face back into the ground. Walking over, you helped Sunita to her feet as she spoke.

“So that carousel is some sort of portal, I’m guessing?” she brushed off her skirt, making sure some of the dust landed on Lyle who seemed content to stay on the ground. Adam nodded, then helped his friend up when it was clear he wasn’t going to get himself up.

“I touched one of the other horses earlier and didn’t go anywhere,” Carole pouted in confusion. “Why did it work for Senpai and not me?”

“Maybe only the one horse is a portal?” you suggested. “Short of trying every horse, I can’t think of a way to be sure.” Sunita rolled her eyes at your proposal.

“Yeah, teleporting to some unknown location and falling several feet sounds like a great plan.” You rolled your eyes right back.

“I was going to suggest we stay away from the carousel,” Carole gave a sad ‘aww’ at your words. “Teleporting is dangerous, and the carousel itself is so out of the way, I don’t see a point to investigate further.

“I wish it worked,” Carole pouted, and Lyle nodded in agreement.

“Yeah. I met the love of my life on a carousel,” he gave a wistful sigh.

“Yeah?” Adam snorted, “What was her name?”

“Christa,” Lyle responded right away. “Wait, no. Christina. Or was it Kiersten?” Sunita gave a grumble and grabbed your wrist.

“Let’s go. I don’t need to listen to this shit,” she dragged you off, not that you were complaining.

Reader said "I will turn this car around!" and Sunita and Kalpas (kinda) listened Also sorry if there's more typos this time! I didn't spend as long editing as I normally do, if there's anything really bad lmk

[jungkxook]

—hot boy bummer. (m)

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader 

⟶ genre: fuckboy!jungkook / friends with benefits / friends to lovers + smut  

⟶ words: 14,633

⟶ rating: 18+ 

⟶ summary: when jungkook offers you a proposition of just sex, no strings attached, how can you possibly say no? after all, what are best friends for?

⟶ warnings: kind of a crack fic, sprinkle of angst, way too casual conversations mid-sex, jealous jungkook, slight himbo jungkook tbh (he’s kind of a sweet loveable idiot), he also has a big dick oops, man bun and blonde jungkook to feed my fantasies!, multiple smut scenes!!!, missionary, dry humping, oral sex (m receiving), face fucking, unprotected sex, slight degradation (mostly jungkook hating himself), brief name calling, light choking, sort of praise kink

⟶ note: this was inspired by a number of things but mainly do me by kim petras being on jungkook’s spotify playlist, this tiktok sound, and this tumblr post lol also big thank you to @bratkook​ and @onherwings​ for letting me ramble on about this fic and reigniting my inspo for it 💛

( p.s. i tried to proofread this but if y’all see any typos no u didn’t, thank u <3 )

Being friends with Jungkook meant a myriad of things but mainly that there were hardly ever any boundaries that stood between you and him.

Having known him for most of your life, it was just a quintessential part of yours and his relationship with one another. From high school parties where you drunkenly spewed on his shoes and in his dad’s car after he tried lugging you home (and taking the fall all himself for your sake) to letting him lose his virginity in your bed to some girl you didn’t know because your parents were out of town and his would crucify him on the spot if they had found out; or him discovering your stash of vibrators in your dorm one day, or seeing each other naked more often than was probably necessary, there was nothing that either of you could do that would phase the other at this point even when it maybe, probably, definitely should.

College, and Jungkook’s sudden six pack of hard rock abs, only seemed to amplify the chaos of your friendship. If you’re being honest, the abs are sort of a plus ━ but they brought an air of fuckboy to him that is undeniably there even if he tries to deny it sometimes. You suppose it isn’t all his fault. Jungkook has always been bold and brash, attractively charming. Considering he’s seemingly made it his mission to sleep with every girl on campus before he graduates (undisclosed, if you’re being honest, because he’s never outwardly admitted it but you have a hunch), his confidence somehow hasn’t failed him yet.

But then there’s one night in which you think to yourself briefly: this surely must draw some sort of line.

“What if we, like, had sex?”

Jungkook says this a little too casually from beside you. He’s sat on the couch in his dorm, scrolling aimlessly on his phone, and you’re sprawled out on the remaining space, feet kicked up in his lap. You’re positive he’s drunk but, then again, so are you. The remnant shot glasses of soju you had both started the night with (though you think Jungkook’s had half the bottle himself), and your second glass of wine, are all evidence of that. You’re so absorbed by some anime Jungkook had been watching upon your arrival and refused to change that you almost don’t hear what he says. Almost. You do, however, nearly choke on the gummy bear you’ve just tossed into your mouth.

After a sudden hysterical fit of coughs, you manage to sputter, “Excuse me?”

“Like, hypothetically speaking.” He hardly budges when you turn to gawk at him, as if he’s asking you something as casual as what to eat for dinner or if you could pass him the T.V. remote. “Except, not really hypothetically.”

“You’re joking, right?” You scoff.

Jungkook blinks. “No. Why would I be joking?”

You blink. The longer you stare at him, the quicker you’re able to discern that there’s some sort of earnesty in his words and it slightly concerns you. Suddenly, you’re warm in the face. To distract from that painfully obvious fact, an incredulous laugh bubbles at your lips and you kick one of your feet at his thighs. “Very funny, Koo. Can we change the show now if you’re not even watching it?”

“I’m not joking, Y/N.” The severity in his tone makes you sit up at once. When you turn to look at him, he flashes you a taunting smirk, though the devious sparkle in his eyes lets you know this seems to be anything but a joke to him. “I’m sure you’ve thought of me naked before.”

“You’re such a fucking idiot━” Okay, so maybe you have thought of him naked before but how is it your fault when you literally have seen him naked before, and he’s so unabashed around you? “Should I bring you to a hospital to get your head checked, or━?”

“Just hear me out━” Now, he pushes himself to the edge of the sofa. “Why are you here right now?”

“In life? Because I honestly have no clue━”

“No, I meant here. Getting drunk in my apartment on a Friday night instead of getting railed.”

“Okay, I didn’t ask to get called out like that,” You grumble stiffly. “And because you’re my best friend, and I like spending time with you.” It’s not entirely a lie, because you would much rather spend time with Jungkook than anyone else. But when you feel his eyes boring into you in a look of scrutiny, your lips form into a pout which you try to hide by puckering them. “Also because boys are stupid and Hoseok’s blind date stood me up. Again.”

The events from hours earlier resurface in your memory, in which you had spent all evening making yourself look pretty for a boy you had only talked to through text that your roommate had introduced you to, only to arrive to the restaurant you were supposed to be meeting at and waiting there for half an hour by yourself before the boy had sent you a message saying something along the lines of “something came up, hope we can reschedule,” filing it under one of the lamest excuses you’ve ever heard because it hardly even borders on a valid excuse. It’s what had ultimately made you storm into Jungkook’s apartment an hour ago, exclaiming aloud as a greeting with a simple yet scarily cheerful I hate men! because Jungkook knows all about your plights with finding a significant other (or even just someone decent enough to open your legs to), usually lamenting men’s inability to have any emotions. Even the ones who you think are respectable enough, who say they’re fine not having sex on the first date, usually tend to flee right after you finally let them in because sex, as you come to find, seems to be all that men care about.

Admittedly, Jungkook is not any different.

“But it’s not like you’re any better.”

This seems to personally offend Jungkook. He looks at you cynically. “Me?”

“Tell me why you’re here with me on a Friday night when you’re literally one of the hottest guys on campus,” You point out. “You can get any girl, and yet you somehow manage to ruin it every single time. Like with Eunha.”

Jungkook winces. The poor Eunha in question is a pretty girl from your chem class, whomst Jungkook had somehow managed to charm. From what you know, they had hooked up a handful of times before that fateful night in which Jungkook had abruptly broken things off with her. If you’re being honest, he’s not a total monster. The only thing that seems to scare him away is when a girl asks to cuddle him in the morning or talks about the prospective future together. He doesn’t want to hurt them, he told you once before, and finds it much easier to nip any potential relationship in the bud before it can get too far, too out of control.

“We literally only slept together three times anyway and we never went out,” Jungkook points out. “What’s the big deal?”

A roll of your eyes doesn’t go unnoticed by Jungkook. “Yeah, it’s not her fault you’re scared of commitment.”

“Nu’uh,” The boy sulks. “I’m only scared of realistic things, like microwaves.”

A snort bubbles at your lips, and it’s frustrating how adorable he finds the simple action. Rather than entertain the thought of his irrational fear of kitchen appliances (because you’ve heard it all before, and you still can’t find where he was incited with the terror of an exploding microwave), you sit up.

“Jungkook, I don’t even like you like that.”

“I don’t like you like that either. That’s why it’s so perfect!” Jungkook says brightly. “Look, we know each other better than anyone else ever could. We’re already comfortable with each other. We don’t have to go through all that boring small talk. All I’m saying is we could give it a try. No relationship, no emotions, just sex.”

You consider the thought for a moment, weigh the pros and cons in your head.

The cons? He’s your best friend.

The pros? He’s your best friend, and he’s hot.

Truthfully, your slightly buzzed mind can find very little to dissuade you away from the inviting proposition and maybe that’s why you begin to entertain the idea. And, sure, you had just complained profusely about how men sometimes only used you for sex, but it’s not like you don’t have needs too. You just don’t have the gusto in you anymore to spend days on a boy who will only just leave you the moment you let him have sex with you. At least with Jungkook, he’s already offering you a blatant deal of sex only and you know you won’t have to worry about him breaking your heart; and he doesn’t have to worry about the dreaded dreamy post-sex cuddle talk of a future family and babies and a white picket-fence home. It’s a win-win for the both of you, really. Or maybe you’re just telling yourself that.

“How would we even start?” You ask finally. “I mean… Do you even find me attractive enough in that way?”

“Yeah.” Jungkook hardly bats a lash. He meets your stare, licks slowly at his lower lip. When he sees the cross look of disbelief scrunching at your face, he hastens to respond. “I’m not blind. You’re fucking drop dead gorgeous, Y/N.”

“But physically attractive? I’m no hot girl Eunha.”

“If I wanted Eunha, I’d be between her legs right now. Y/N, of course I think you’re attractive.” A gentle sliver of a smile dances upon his lips. He leans his head on the back of the couch, eyes fluttering over your appearance shortly. “I’ve always liked your lips, and your eyes. Think they’re beautiful.”

Suddenly, you’re flustered again. The room feels as if it’s getting increasingly warmer, yet you seem to want to bask in the feeling and attention a little longer. “That’s too sentimental.”

“It’s true though.”

“Well, you’re lucky I’ve always had a thing for idiots,” You jest playfully. “Jerks, too. Playboys who are too hot for their own good.”

“Ah, and I love it when you talk dirty to me.” A cheeky grin tugs at his lips as he clutches at his heart over his chest. “It’s a good thing I like it a little too much, knowing you’ll always keep me in check.”

But then the mirth seems to fade from your mind long enough for you to hum aloud pensively, “And I’ve always liked your eyes. I’ve never seen such big eyes before. Sometimes, if I look long enough, it’s like I can see the stars in them.”

As you’re speaking about them, his irises glisten magnificently. He bites at his lip now, as if to hide the way his soft smile turns sheepish. “I like your bum.”

“Really? I always worry it’s too flat.”

“Are you kidding? Your ass is a fucking god-send. It’s hard not to stare when you wear leggings sometimes,” Jungkook admits, earning a small giggle from you. “And I like your boobs. I’ve always wondered…” He trails off abruptly, shaking his head. He shoots you an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop. I’m being an idiot, aren’t I?”

“Well, maybe I don’t want you to stop.”

Silence saturates the room now, settling comfortably between the two of you. He wonders what you’re thinking, and you wonder if he can hear your heart hammering against your chest. Perhaps on any other day when you were of sound mind, you could find a plethora of reasons as to why sleeping with your best friend was a terrible idea. But being that you were slightly tipsy, and Jungkook isn’t far off, you can find not one fault, except for maybe how tragically hot Jungkook looks sitting across from you and how he’s never been yours, at least in that way. Would it be so wrong to try just once?

You shift then, pushing yourself to your knees if only so you can worm your way towards him before swinging one leg over his. You settle back on his lap, hands gripping his shoulders. He can feel your core press against the inside of his thigh, just where his dick is nestled and he has to bite back a moan. His eyes are wider than usual, as if believing the moment to be surreal, though something sultry threatens to darken them.

“Y/N…”

The excitement crackles through your veins like electricity. You’ve never been in such a compromising position with Jungkook before, and you wonder if it should be concerning just how much you’re enjoying it. It almost feels as if time slows down, every second dragging on, yet he can’t look away. His hands come to tug at your hoodie (that he’s almost positive was his once upon a time before you nicked it from his closet) and you meet him part way, replacing his efforts as you pull it up and off your body. Then, you’re sitting back on his lap in your full nude glory, chest bare and right in his face. He eyes the swell of your breasts, the perk of your nipples. Of course you’re not wearing anything beneath your hoodie ━ and, god, he loves it.

“Touch me?”

Your voice comes to him in an almost dream. You reach for his hand then, your palm soft around his knuckles and the tattoos that ink his skin. It’s the same hand of which he wears the other half to your pair of friendship bracelets in one of his favourite colours of red, decorated with little pink hearts. It came in a matching set of two (yours in your own favourite colour, currently on the wrist of the hand you’re using to guide Jungkook’s), cute little macrame braid ones with hearts woven into the design that you had pointed out one day while you were both at the mall and he had bought without any hesitation mostly as a joke but resulted in both of you wearing them on a daily basis.

Now, all he can do is continue watching you with bated breath as you guide his hand right where you both want him. He comes to cup the underside of one of your breasts, your hand over his pressing his fingers tighter together until you can feel some sort of pleasant pressure. And, just like that, something feral and needy seems to snap within him. His hand slithers from your grasp if only so he can flick his thumb across your nipple, mesmerized by the softness of it. He’s only ever seen you naked once before and it was fleeting. You were both drunk, skinny dipping in a lake with a handful of other friends, but it had been too dark to notice much else. But now? Now, he can see all of you and the sight strikes a chord right down to his dick.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” Jungkook groans.

“Koo.” The cute little nickname you had given him sounds dirty now as it slips from your lips in a moan. “Too sentimental.”

But Jungkook isn’t listening because you really, really, really are so beautiful. He bows his head to your chest, catching one of your nipples in his mouth. He murmurs something against your chest that sounds akin to, “We can take things slow.”

“Slow…” Your head is spinning, but it’s a delightful sensation. Something hard pokes against your ass now, and the adrenaline only seems to build within you. It’s odd how everything feels so foreign ━ exploring his body and these newfound feelings like the uncharted territory it is ━ yet secure and safe at the same time. As if you know what to do next, where to touch next, how to move, your bodies almost fitting together like pieces to a puzzle. “Y-Yeah, I like that. Can I move?”

“Fuck, yes, please,” he growls. He’s much too busy nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin on your chest, teeth tugging at your nipple.

You hurry to obey, giving a small experimental swivel of your hips that almost immediately has the both of your inhaling a sharp breath of air. His dick strains against his sweatpants, the material doing very little in protecting him against you. Your core throbs as you rub yourself on him.

“Like this?” You rasp.

“Yeah, just like that.” Jungkook’s head rolls back onto the couch, his eyes squeezing shut and his blonde hair spilling into his eyes. He clenches his jaw, the nerves fluttering in the corner, as pure euphoria riddles his features. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anything so sexy. “Fuck, we probably shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Yeah,” You agree, breathless. “Do you wanna stop?”

“No. Do you?”

“No.”

“Thank god.” The sigh of relief that emits from Jungkook startles even him but, in the heat of the moment, he doesn’t register how any of this could be a mistake. “Ah, shit━ Faster━”

“Mmm, Koo━” You whimper as you quicken your pace, the vulgar harbored thought of his dick in you thrilling you to no end.

“Fuuck, I’ve never heard you sound like this before. So needy, so desperate,” Jungkook grunts, his fingers digging into your hips. And it’s all because of him, the way you’re feeling. He’s never wanted to hurry to please you faster, itching to tear you apart if he’ll get to hear those noises from you again and again. “I━”

He’s gonna cum, and he’s not even in your pussy. What’s gotten into him?  

He presses you a little harsher against his dick, sitting up straighter so that his chest is pressed flush against yours. He leans forward, lips chasing after yours, before you pull back just enough sluggishly to press your finger to his mouth.

“Uh uh. No kissing,” You rasp.

The words process in Jungkook’s head, but the weight of them don’t seem to linger in his daze. He’s far too overwhelmed by you and the way you’re making him feel to even begin to try to decipher why you avoid his mouth and so, for now, he doesn’t care. Instead, he buries his face in the crook of your neck, nose nuzzling against your throat. You clutch at his hair, tugging at the roots tight enough for him to moan.

“Nnngh, Jungkook━” You whine. “I’m gonna━ Oh, fuck, Koo━”

And then you’re unravelling, right in his very arms. He holds you close as you tremble and shake, rutting your hips sloppily against his to ride out your high, and Jungkook thinks he can definitely get used to this. The familiar burn forms in his stomach and, without even thinking of it, he comes in the confinements of his pants.

But in the heat of the moment, he doesn’t notice quite a lot of things. Neither do you.

So, maybe you could both find a hundred and one reasons why having sex with your best friend would surely cross some lines, but the thing with you and Jungkook (and what would eventually blossom into a hubristic relationship of sorts) is that it wasn’t just sex. You would always be comfortable around him, as he would be with you. And nothing could ever possibly get weird between the two of you ━ not when you had both made a promise to each other that it wouldn’t get in the way of your friendship.

Because ━ while, yeah, he’s hot and suffers from fuckboy tendencies from time-to-time and, aside from random late night hookups ━ he was still the same boy that would drag you out at three in the morning to drive to the next city over for a bowl of ramen, who would marathon shows as long as One Piece or Game of Thrones with you, watching as much as you can in one all-nighter; who would come to your dorm, no matter the time of day, the moment you said you were sick or suffering from cramps, piled high with your favourite snacks; who shared a repertoire of silly inside jokes with you that never made any sense to anyone but the both of you; who insisted you both wear friendship bracelets even in college. He would always be an angel to you, treat you well, because you meant that much to him.

A small thought in the back of Jungkook’s head wonders, above all else, if you were anyone different, would he have even bothered suggesting such a ludicrous idea, drunk or not?

Because he’s positive no one else could make him cum in his pants like a horny prepubescent teen ━ no one except for you.

“If we’re really gonna do this, we need to set some ground rules.”

Admittedly, neither you nor Jungkook knew what would happen after Jungkook’s proposition to you. Maybe you were expecting the two of you to pretend as if nothing had ever happened, or laugh it off as something so inconsequential that neither of you should bother worrying about it. Instead, the very next day, you find that you’re back in Jungkook’s dorm. Only this time, you’re in his bed, and he spent the past half hour sufficiently eating you out.

Now, you’ve had an epiphany in the form of Jungkook’s dick, and that is that it’s big.

You’ve seen it before on occasion ━ like when he streaked nude across campus as a dare or when he needed to use your shower because his apartment was under maintenance and he walked out on you in the living room ━ but this is clearly a very different circumstance. All red, swollen, angry tip wet and glistening with precum. You had to brace yourself as he pushed himself into you, cautiously and slowly, enjoying the way you stretch to fit around him. If you had a drunken excuse the night before for loving the thought of getting off with Jungkook, then you surely don’t have one now. It’s a shameless guilty pleasure, you think, that he’s at least indulging in.

“Rules,” Jungkook scoffs now. “You’re such a nerd. Fuck, you feel so fucking good━ You doing okay?”

More than. Your head lolls back against his pillow, eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head. “Mhm.”

“Want a minute?”

“Maybe.”

Jungkook pauses without any hesitation, gnawing on his lower lip as your walls clench around him so tightly he feels he might fall apart then and there. His hands are on your hips, thumbs rubbing comforting circles against your burning skin. A few deep breaths later and you’re probing Jungkook to move again. His hips rut into yours at a leisure pace, and he marvels for a moment at the way his dick disappears into your pussy, slick and wet with your own arousal. The thought of being in you ━ of finally feeling your walls wrapped around him, all wet and snug ━ is enough to make him bust then and there, but he refrains miraculously.

“Holy fuck,” You groan. “Why are you so big━”

Your voice cuts off into a delightful whimper, walls aching around him. Jungkook snorts, burrowing his face in the crook of your neck. “Nothing sexier than hearing you stroke my ego.”

“Don’t let it get to your already big head,” You retort sluggishly.

“Big head!” he grumbles against your throat, lips brushing faintly against your skin and sending shivers down your spine. “Insult me some more. You know how it gets me going.”

“Oh my god, shut up. Where were we?”

“Rules.”

“Right,” You breathe in a sharp inhale of air as he grinds against your hips. “And rule number one is no kissing. That’s way too intimate.”

Jungkook quirks a brow. “How is kissing more intimate than having my dick in you?”

“It just is.” You refuse to tell him the truth. You poke your fingers at his sides, causing him to jerk against you. “Don’t question it.”

“Fine. Then no sentimental shit in general, like cuddling or pet names,” Jungkook retorts. “And no public displays of affection.”

“Okay,” You nod. “Fuck, Jungkook━”

“God, I love hearing you moan my name,” Jungkook grunts. He watches with fascination the way your face reacts at his every movement. “Too much?”

“No. Kinda hot,” You admit. An abrupt thought pops into your head that has you murmuring hazily, “Oh, and you can’t have sex with me to your sex playlist.”

Jungkook looks appalled. The sex playlist in question is one you’ve heard briefly before, if only because you’ve walked in on Jungkook and his flavour of the month a handful of times one too many times.

“So you’re telling me you don’t want to have the best orgasm of your life to The Weeknd or the Neighbourhood? WAP?” Jungkook asks, wriggling his brows suggestively. “Alanis Morissette?” You have less than half a second to register the 90s pop singer as out of place before Jungkook breaks out into song with a brief rendition of Head over Feet. “You’re my best friend, best friend with benefits━!”

Part of you knows he’s joking, but there’s still a small sliver of you that makes you gawk at him dubiously before dissolving into a fit of unabashed laughter. It rumbles against his chest, vibrates his dick in you. “You’re not serious, are you? That’s not actually in your sex playlist, is it?”

He flashes you a shit-eating grin. “Guess you’ll never know now.”

Another roll of your eyes makes him snicker. He’s gotten used to your snide remarks, but he’ll gladly keep suffering under them if he gets to wipe that taunting smirk off your face each time with the way his dick makes you feel. You cling a little tighter to his shoulders and muse aloud, “So that’s it then?”

“Yeah━” Jungkook knows you’re referring to the rules and your plan, although it’s getting harder to focus on talking as he continues to grind against you. “And nothing has to change between us, even if we stop. We’re still just two best friends.”

“Yup.”

“Who have sex from time to time.”

“Yeah.”

He can’t help himself. He tries again. “Who might kiss.”

“Nope.” You’re smiling even despite the way you shoot him an aggravated stare first.

“We might?”

“No, we definitely won’t.”

Worth a shot, he thinks to himself. At least you really do always keep him in check.

After all, what are best friends for?

So, maybe a part of you thought the shift in your relationship with Jungkook wouldn’t last very long. A week at most, and maybe Hoseok would find you another pointless let down of a blind date to go on and Jungkook would get horny for some other girl ━ but it’s certainly been more than a week now, and you’ve had sex with him more than two times.

A third, and a fourth, if you’re being blatantly honest, and maybe a few more times after that but you don’t really remember what count you’re both on now which should probably be concerning. Days elapse into days, which turn to weeks, then months. Morning, afternoon, and night.

It’s not as if you hadn’t already spent almost every waking moment with Jungkook but now you had a reason to be at his apartment at any and all hours of the day and not solely for movie watching marathons. You’re positive he’s still having his occasional random flings, though you’re fortunate his commitment issues at least force him to go to their homes rather than his for the most part, so you never really have to witness half-naked girls stumbling out of his apartment just as you’re wandering in. He says it has something to do with how his bedroom is his sacred space, though you think it’s more like he wouldn’t want his hook ups discovering his Overwatch figurines or something (because, before Jungkook’s proposition, you’ve walked in on him once and a girl when they were entangled on the couch in his living room).

But you’ve noticed lately you’re getting too comfortable with your arrangement with Jungkook; too comfortable knowing he’ll be there at the end of a long day to greet you, to please you until you’re crying out his name. Sometimes he tells you about the girls he’s texting, or shows you a picture from a hot girl’s Instagram whose D.M.s he’s just slid into. And sometimes you’re left wondering how often he comes straight to you after hooking up with a random girl.

It shouldn’t matter to you, and you swear that it doesn’t.

Maybe you’re just overthinking things. Hoseok certainly seems to think so, but his judgement wasn’t much to go by.

Because, lately, Hoseok has been encouraging you more and more to give Yukhei (the blind date Hoseok had initially set you up with when you found yourself at Jungkook’s) another chance for two reasons: 1) “Yukhei’s a nice boy,” he had cheerfully reminded you, “he’ll treat you well,” and 2) “Stop fucking your best friend. It’s morally wrong.”

There were many things wrong with his statement, from the fact that you didn’t exactly consider standing up a date as “nice” and that you were also still begrudgingly lamenting the way Hoseok had discovered your recent fling with Jungkook (although, you weren’t being very inconspicuous, having shower sex with Jungkook early one morning when you were certain Hoseok would be spending the day at his fiance’s home instead of yours).

But then you meet Yukhei and you realize that, oh crap, he’s cute. And he’s nice.

As it turns out, after bumping into him one day when you’re with Hoseok lounging on the quad of your campus and he comes bounding over to return a textbook Hoseok had lent him for a specific class, Yukhei is so easily charming. He also gives a pretty valid excuse for flaking on your date, proving that he had to present his dissertation, making you clearly aware that he’s cute, nice, and smart. Jungkook, on the other hand, doesn’t see the appeal, yet his curiosity and intrigue seems to get the best of him.

“So that was your blind date?” Jungkook asks after grabbing your attention on the quad and stealing you away from Hoseok and Yukhei. “Yukhei?”

“You know him?”

“Seen him around,” Jungkook shrugs nonchalantly. “I’ve never really talked to him. But him? You’re not telling me you’re actually interested in him, are you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe,” You’re truly just as clueless about your feelings towards Yukhei as Jungkook seems to be. “What’s so wrong about him?”

“He’s━” Jungkook stops. He shakes his head. “Heard he’s got a small dick anyway.”

You shoot the boy a wary look, only to find him grinning deviously at himself. “Maybe he just wants to be friends.”

At this, Jungkook lets out a scoffing sound that borders on disbelieving laughter. “No, I definitely think he wants to have sex with you in his Toyota Camry, Y/N, but what do I know?”

“You’re not jealous, are you?”

“No, why would I be jealous?”

You can’t quite tell if he’s angry or not but, then again, why would he be? As far as either of you are concerned, there’s nothing to be jealous of.

So then why does it feel like he’s simply just telling himself that?

“Are you seriously on your phone right now?”

Jungkook asks this from somewhere behind you a handful of days later, a little peeved but most likely because your jarring 8:00 a.m. alarm had roused the both of you violently awake. In his defense, Jungkook is not a morning person.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You’re currently sprawled out on your hands and knees on his bed, phone still in your grasp after having plucked it off the nightstand in haste. Your clothes are scattered across the floor of his room, remnant clues of the night before when he had beckoned you over after hours, and your body is covered in nothing but hickeys and an unbuttoned blue flannel belonging to Jungkook that you had chucked on last night that does nothing in covering up the swell of your breasts which Jungkook is now currently eyeing. “Am I not giving you enough attention? Were you expecting cuddles or something? Thought that wasn’t in the rules.”

“No,” Jungkook huffs. He runs a hand through his long messy hair in an attempt to fix it; he ultimately gives up taming his locks, instead using the hair tie around his wrist to tie his hair back into a cute yet sexy little ponytail. As he does so, you notice the red friendship bracelet around his wrist and smile smally. “But my dick could use some cuddles. Preferably with your mouth, but it will also gladly accept your hand.”

Jungkook may not be a morning person but, as you’ve come to realize, his dick certainly is.

It’s painfully obvious too, his hardened length straining against the gray sweatpants he had thrown on at some point. And, god, did he have to wear those? It left little to the imagination, the outline of his length teasing you just enough.

“I should get going,” You say. “I have a test coming up. There’s supposed to be a review session today in class, and I don’t want to miss it.”

“Well, you don’t seem like you’re in a rush since you’re still on your phone,” Jungkook points out. “Who are you texting anyway? Yukhei?”

“Anger is an emotion,” You rebuke casually. “So is jealousy.”

Jungkook feigns a look of mock hurt. “I’m not angry or jealous! I’m needy.”

Still, Jungkook reaches out to swiftly pluck your phone from your hands.

“Jungkook━!”

He’s pressed up against your back in an instant, his dick hard against your ass, and he doesn’t move very far even when you twist in your spot in an attempt to grab your phone back. You don’t, and instead you end up on your back with him on his side, propped up on his elbow. You miss when he casts a swift gaze down at your phone, only to see that Yukhei’s chat messages are indeed open, and something seems to gnaw terribly at his gut before he tosses your phone to the side. He’s looking at you now with those big beautiful eyes of his, and you hate it.

“Please?” he beckons. He ruts his hips impatiently but slowly against your leg. He drops his head to bury his face in the crook of your neck, lips dangerously close to brushing against your flesh but he refrains somehow. “M’so hard right now, could probably bust the moment you touch me.”

The thought is tempting, having a helpless Jungkook cumming in your hands. The sight alone has quickly become your favourite thing, helping the frustrated boy get off. Besides, you’re certain you could ask Hoseok for the review notes.

Fuck it, you cave.

You fidget until you’ve pressed him back against the bed and have clambered on top of him, wiggling your way down to fit between his legs. Jungkook is watching you now with a half-asleep expression, though his teeth sink into his lower lip as you pull at his sweatpants until they’re down at his thighs, letting his swollen dick spring free.

“You know━” You hum. You reach out to grab at the base of his cock. “Yukhei wants to hang out, and Hoseok keeps telling me to give it a shot.”

That much is true. Part of you wants to say yes, if only because Yukhei seems promising enough, but the thought alone is enough for you to feel as if you’ve done something horribly wrong to Jungkook.

“Oh.” The word eclipses Jungkook’s mouth in a shallow breath of air. Then, your mouth wraps around the puffy head of his dick, shining with leaking precum that you swallow back, and Jungkook’s reaction is immediate. Head thrown back, face scrunching together, muscles in his toned abdomen flexing as he seizes and grunts aloud. “Oh, fuck━ Well… Are you gonna?”

Jungkook asks the last question with much difficulty, and a part of him thinks it doesn’t all have to do with how you’re making him feel.

“Dunno.” You snort around his dick, and he marvels at how adorable such a lewd action can seem.

You decide to focus on sucking him off because it truly is a sexy sight to see, letting the topic of Yukhei drop. Jungkook certainly doesn’t mind. As you swirl your tongue around his tip and reach up with your free hand to fondle at his balls, his long hair falls into his lashes but he still tries to find you past his wild locks, hooded eyes gazing down at you.  

“Ah, shit━” Jungkook hisses delightfully, hips jerking forward instinctively into your mouth. The faintest hints of a drowsy smirk tug at his lips. “Fuck, yes, just like that.”

Yeah, you think to yourself then, you’re definitely going to ride him later. Screw going to class.

From: Jungkook Sent: 1:05 a.m.

bro i noticed u werent wearing our friendship bracelet while u were giving me head earlier. is everything ok??

You wake in the morning to a single text from Jungkook ━ and one you had not been expecting.

That’s not to say that getting the occasional text message from Jungkook at any and all hours of the day was abnormal, but the extent of his messages sent anywhere past midnight usually always range from something more coherent in the form of “what would u do if i was there rn?” to something exuding typical lazy Jungkook manner with a simple “dtf?” or “send noods lol” to something even more provocatively cryptic such as the eggplant and splashing water (or, as far as Jungkook is concerned, something else entirely) emojis and nothing else, left open for your own interpretation that typically, usually, without a doubt, results in you in his bed and his dick in you. But this seems to be something else entirely.

Unfortunately, Jungkook’s text isn’t the only concern of yours.

Hoseok has spent the better part of the morning giving you a lecture on why having sex with your best friend is bad. He seems so passionate about the topic that you’re certain he would have pulled out a powerpoint at any moment, each slide ending in a picture of Yukhei and why you should maybe try fucking him instead, if you entertained the idea a little longer. Hoseok claims it’s just a harmless date. Yukhei might be a nice boy, but you don’t know how you feel about him. You don’t want to lead him on, and a scary thought points out the fact that maybe, while Yukhei is a nice boy, he isn’t Jungkook.

“I don’t get why you don’t just give Yukhei a chance━” Hoseok is saying now, sat on the couch in your shared apartment with him. “It’s not like you have to marry him. I don’t think one date will hurt━ Aaand, you’re not even listening to me anymore, are you?”

The sheepish look on your face is enough of an answer for him. You’ve been anxiously eyeing your phone and the text Jungkook had sent you last that you’ve yet to respond to, even despite being awake for more than a few hours now.

“Yes, I am listening,” You say dismissively. “Something about how one date won’t hurt, but that’s what you said when Yoongi asked you out, and you’re literally engaged now.”

The glistening metallic ring on Hoseok’s finger is evidence enough. The boy looks down at it as if seeing it for the first time, purses his lips, and then nods in agreement. “Okay, yeah, maybe you’re right. But you’re holding out for Jungkook and for what? He’s hot, yeah, and he’s your best friend, sure, but at the end of the day he’s still just a horny male who wants to stick his dick in anything that moves.”

“Hoseok.” Your grumbling sigh is interrupted by the motion of your phone vibrating against your thigh once more. You peek at the screen fleetingly to see a new text.

From: Jungkook Sent: 2:35 p.m.

send n00ds?

miss ur tits :(

Typical Jungkook.

The text from the night before is all but seemingly forgotten from his mind, and you can’t quite tell if you’re devastated or relieved. You don’t have very long to discern which emotion you’re feeling when Hoseok snatches your phone to look at what’s gotten your attention before exclaiming suddenly, “Aha! See! What did I say?”

“It’s not like that,” You wave Hoseok off. “Jungkook treats me well. He respects me, and I’m comfortable with him.”

“And how long until whatever this is━” He gestures vaguely to your phone as if to point out your relationship with Jungkook, “has to end? Do you really think a pinky promise is going to make sure your friendship with him isn’t totally ruined? I mean, how can you continue being casual friends with someone, see them dating someone else, when they’ve had their dick in you?”

You know it makes sense. Realistically, you either stop sleeping with each other or it potentially develops into something more. But in both circumstances, what were the chances that either of you didn’t get your heart broken? Maybe a part of you was apprehensive of Jungkook finding the “right” person for him one day that has him ending things with you, and while you swear you’d be happy for him, relationships sometimes have a way of distracting people from those already around them. Were you prepared to have someone take him away from you, platonically and whatever it is else that you have with him? Did you really think you could just keep being friends with him, as if nothing ever occurred between you two?

You don’t think Jungkook is bothered worrying about the state of your friendship with him, much less overthinking it like you seem to be. It shouldn’t be a big deal ━ yet why was there still that terrible nagging voice in the back of your mind? Whether or not Hoseok is right, you don’t want to find out. You don’t have feelings for Jungkook anyway.

But your ability to bend at his every will is certainly interesting.

You grab your phone before Hoseok can do any serious damage like unlocking it and responding to Jungkook, clutching it to your chest as you start to cross the living room. The other boy looks at you in bewilderment. “Where are you going now?”

“Where does it look?” You call over your shoulder just before you disappear into the bathroom, and Hoseok deduces all at once that you’re truly a lost cause. “I need to send him a picture of my boobs.”

“He’s totally into you, Y/N.”

Admittedly, there were many mundane but essentially weird things you’ve talked to Jungkook about while having sex. You’ve had many heated debates about everything under the sun from whether or not pineapple on pizza should be illegal to top five betrayals in either movies or animes, to passionate grand philosophical discussions about what exists outside of the universe.

It’s not as if you had been planning on talking about Yukhei to Jungkook when he had invited you over to his apartment late at night after sending your risqué boob picture to him but, like many things in your friendship with Jungkook, it sort of just happened. He had asked you how your day was and you had decided to broach the topic experimentally, though you think deep down you’re doing it on purpose to see if he’d react in any way. What started with you mentioning Hoseok’s adamance and you sort of genuinely asking Jungkook for advice on Yukhei somehow evolved into Jungkook interrogating you on whether or not you’ve hung out with him yet.

“Jungkook. You’re getting off topic,” You admonish him now, as if your own choice of topic is any better when his dick is currently in you.

Jungkook is wedged between your thighs smushed up against your chest, large palms holding you on your ribcage in place beneath him. He’s a comfortable heavy draped over top of you, cock stretching you wide. You can feel his heart hammering against yours and he’s slick with sweat, golden hair clinging to his forehead and in his pretty eyes. You resist the urge to reach out and brush the messy locks away but, again, how would that be any less intimate of an action than what you’re already doing? Another line uncrossed, you suppose.

“How am I off topic?” Jungkook retorts. “You literally just said you can’t tell if he’s into you but he dropped by when you were done class and bought you lunch. You don’t just do that for a girl you don’t care that much about.”

“You buy me lunch, like, every day,” You point out.

“Because you’re my best friend. Of course I care about you,” Jungkook says.

“Ah, Jungkook━” You curse suddenly, grabbing his attention when you shift your weight beneath him. “You’re crushing me. Why’d you stop moving?”

He doesn’t have an answer, if only because he hadn’t even realized he’d stop moving in the first place. Without hesitation, he continues leisurely rutting his hips against yours, grabbing at one of your legs to hook it around his waist. This new angle lets you feel even more of him as he sinks further into you, if that was even still possible, reaching so far into you that you swear it’s like you can feel him in your stomach. Your head lolls back against the pillows, pure euphoria contorting your face so much so to the point that it distracts you entirely from the distant look glazing over Jungkook’s eyes.

“Yukhei definitely wants to bang,” he huffs under his breath.

At once, an exasperated groan fills his ears.

“I can’t believe we’re seriously having this conversation right now,” You roll your eyes, fingers prodding at his sides. “I don’t wanna talk about Yukhei potentially wanting to have sex with me.”

Jungkook’s glad you said it, at least. Though now he’s watching you with hooded eyes as he thrusts into you a little harder, maybe a little intentionally. His indulgent gaze droops to your breasts, admiring the way they bounce beneath him each time his hips make contact with yours. He thinks back earlier in the day to the picture you had sent him which, really, had sparked the mood for the rest of the night.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he whines abruptly. His eyes screw shut and brows furrow together as your walls clench around him. He drops his head to bury his face in your chest, lips momentarily wrapping around one of your nipples as he sucks harshly at the soft flesh. When he speaks next, forehead still resting against your collarbones, his voice is a breathless croak, “Well, do you like him?”

“No,” You moan. “Maybe━ Fuck, Koo━ I don’t know.”

“He’s gonna be at that party Tae’s throwing, isn’t he?” Jungkook tries to focus, but it’s becoming increasingly harder to do so when he’s inching closer and closer to his high. “Shit, ah, Y/N━ Why don’t you try talking to him or something? See how the night goes?”

“He’s nice but I don’t think he’s the one for me,” You admit sheepishly. “I think I’m just gonna end things while I still can, with as little harm as possible.”

“Well, glad that’s settled,” Jungkook mumbles. “Can we please stop talking about Yukhei now?”

You seem to miss the way he clings to you a little tighter, hands flying down to grip at your hips, nails digging crescent moon shapes into your skin. He snaps his hips into yours a little faster this time, your pussy throbbing around him.

“Nngh, Jungkook━”

Your hands fumble to grip at his hair, tugging tightly at the roots and earning a delightful hiss from the boy. Your own mouth drops open in a silent moan and it’s a wonder he doesn’t combust at just how sexy the sight is. He hates how his eyes stay trained on the shape of your lips, the soft plumpness of them. He’s felt them wrapped around his dick plenty of times before but he concedes that it’s probably hardly anywhere near to how it would feel to kiss you. Like actually kiss you, tongue and all.

God, what’d he give just to smother your lips with his.

And, god, he hopes you never find out. He’s positive that thought is far more scandalous alone than anything you’ve ever done together.

You’re writhing beneath him now, hips jutting forward desperately to meet his. “I’m gonna cum, Jungkook━”

“Fuck, yes,” Jungkook growls. “Wanna feel you cream around my cock so bad. Come on, baby━”

In the heat of the moment, you seem to miss the pet name that slurs off his tongue and the sentiment in it. A few more jolting slams of his hips and you’re tumbling over the edge. He has to sputter for air when he feels your pussy wrapping so tightly around him, stuttering in his pace above you if only to watch as you unravel beneath him. Hooded dark eyes glazed over in that perfect fucked out expression he loves so much, teeth biting at your lower lip so hard he wonders if it’ll bruise in the morning.

A sudden thought pops into his head when you’ve settled enough, amongst the blinding pure white of bliss that clouds his thoughts. “Did you get my text by the way? The one I sent last night?”

You gasp for air. The bracelet on your wrist itches at the mention of it, and you’re fortunate you decided to wear it that afternoon before coming to Jungkook’s. “Y-Yeah━”

“Well…?”

“Everything’s fine,” You say this as dismissively as you can. Your core is still vibrating after the harsh impact of your orgasm paired with Jungkook’s swollen length still in you. “I just… I was taking a shower and didn’t want to get it wet. I forgot to put it back on in the morning.”

That’s a lie. You had mostly taken it off as part of an experiment, though it hasn’t answered much. At least Jungkook doesn’t seem to realize that.

“Oh,” Jungkook breathes. A beat of silence passes, before he deadpans cockily, “Wait, you were taking a shower and I wasn’t invited?”

“Oh my god, shut up━” Maybe if he hadn’t just currently driven you to nirvana and back, you’d notice the way the sloppy grin on his face is a simple taunt. But you’re much too distracted to care. Instead, you use your leg that’s still hooked around his waist to gently push and roll him onto his back so that you can straddle his hips. His eyes sparkle mischievously as he watches you waste no time in hurrying to grind against him at an agonizingly steady pace that makes his head spin. “You’re ruining the moment. I’m trying to make you cum.”

A devious cackle rumbles from his chest, albeit a little contented at the same time. Yeah, he definitely likes the sound of that. “Well then, by all means, don’t let me stop you.”

It’s only then that his question comes back into your mind. If he felt the need to ask you again about the bracelet, maybe that meant something after all. At the very least, it means he hadn’t forgotten about it altogether. On the other hand, you wonder how often he had spent thinking, or over-thinking, the issue in the past twenty-four hours, if at all.

Was it wrong to feel some semblance of joy over that potential fact? Probably.

That doesn’t seem to bother you much this time. Not when he’s gazing up at you as if you’re some divine sexy goddess, all his to enjoy. You can’t help yourself; you reach down to brush the sweaty hair from his eyes, perhaps all too gentle of an action for best friends.

And he smiles, maybe a little too softly and maybe a little too ardently if you look close enough.

He smiles.

The thing about your supposed “rules” with your relationship with Jungkook is that there might be a few loose ends that neither you nor Jungkook pay much attention to sometimes.

But that’s neither here nor there.

Mostly, the “no public displays of affection” clause is easily disregardable. It’s typically when you’re too drunk to remember it and a bit needy, craving one another’s touch, but those around you never truly seem to care or even notice because, if you’re lucky, they’re equally as smashed. Sometimes the “no cuddles” clause blurs into a gray area where it’s simply just you and Jungkook post-sex, sprawled out in his bed, not necessarily wrapped up in one another’s arms and cooing sweet nothings to one another but giggling at nothing in particular except one another as you bask in each other’s company and nothing more. You suppose some rules are meant to be broken.

For the most part, Jungkook never seems to question the no kissing rule you were so adamant in insisting. Not until one night in which you’re left wondering where things go so drastically wrong. It starts off as normally as any other day with you and Jungkook can, spent in his apartment binge watching movies. You hadn’t expected that night to switch as suddenly as it does when Jungkook shoots you a text earlier in the day asking if you want to come to his for a night of casual drinking as simply “best friends.” But, as always, one thing seems to lead to another, and you can’t get enough of Jungkook. Maybe it’s in the way he holds you a little tighter, the way he tugs you onto his lap on the sofa in his living room, the way he grips your thighs with a certain type of insatiable desire.

“You know…” he hums. “You drive me insane. In, like, the best way possible.”

Part of you realizes his actions even without him seeming to, and the drunken smile on your face remaining frozen in place, a little dumbfounded. “Jungkook…”

“When I’m with you…” He lifts his stare to look at you, but you have nothing to say. Neither does he. Instead, you’re left grinning at one another and suddenly your face is warm. He leans towards you, his nose nuzzling against the side of your throat. Your hands stay threaded in his hair now, and he swears he feels you secure your grip as if to pull him closer.

You can feel his lips brush faintly against your skin, grazing along your neck to the underside of your jaw. Up, up, up, until━

It’s just as his mouth meets with the corner of yours that you register what he’s doing, even in your clouded state. You turn your head just in time, and he comes to an immediate halt, his lips barely making contact with your cheek instead before he pulls away. He doesn’t move very far but you also don’t push him away just yet. Instead, you shift your head to look at him, still inches apart from him.

“What are you doing?” You ask. He can’t quite tell if you’re appalled or not, an empty expression staring back at him.

“I━ You━” He fumbles over his words, squeezes his eyes shut. He blames it on the alcohol even though his head is swimming with thoughts that seem to only concern you. But then a fierceness seems to stir within him, one that makes his jaw clench as he meets your stunned stare. The question rolls off his tongue without meaning to. “Is this about Yukhei?”

“What?”

“Is that why you weren’t wearing our bracelet the other day?”

The question is so ridiculous, you have to laugh. “What are you going on about?”

But Jungkook doesn’t see what’s so funny and so he tries again, his persistence taking hold. “Is that why you won’t ever let me kiss you?”

You blink. Then, you’re shaking your head at him. Exasperation hangs heavy in your words, shaping in the form of a tired scoff. “You’re not serious.”

You’ve slithered off of his lap before he can even think to stop you ━ but if he had, would you have even stayed? You’re mad, but he doesn’t know why. “No, I wanna know. Because if what we have is already so meaningless, what makes a kiss any different?”

“Jungkook…”

“So I wanna know,” he says, brows unconsciously knitting together. His gaze is searching yours desperately, as if begging for an answer he’ll want to hear. But he knows he’s being an idiot, a small sober part in him makes him realize that. “Humour me. Have you had sex with him yet?”

“Oh my god. I can’t believe that’s what you’re on about.” Suddenly, you’re frowning. Your hardened stare meets the boy’s and the irritation that scrunches at your face makes him wince, but it’s too late for him to take back the damage that he’s done. “Yeah, Jungkook, we fucked in his stupid Toyota that you hate so much and he choked me and I liked it. He did all sorts of dirty things to me. Is that what you want to hear?” The sardonic tone hisses at his ears, but he bites back his words, the sober part in him doing some decent good by shushing him. “No, Jungkook, we didn’t fuck. We haven’t even gone on a date, and I don’t even know if I want to, and you think I’m throwing myself at him.”

“But you wanna.”

“You’re being an idiot,” You admonish. “I’m going home. Talk to me when you’re sober.”

He has just enough time to watch you turn on your heel, march towards his door, when he scrambles to his feet. The weight of his words and actions finally seem to dawn on him, hitting him harshly in the face and in the heart.

“Fuck, wait! Wait━” he gasps.

He chases after you, hand reaching out to press his palm against the door before you can shimmy it open. He’s fortunate when you turn to look at him, though your arms are folded impatiently over your chest.

“You’re right. I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you mad,” he promises earnestly. Then, he lets out a frustrated groan. “I just… What if we… Shit, what if we stop for right now? Y’know… Hooking up. Whatever this is.”

He gestures vaguely between the two of you with his hands, a wearied look plastering his face.

You hate to admit how his words seem to affect you. They bite at the air, leave you breathless as you gawk at him, but the harsh realization of it all is that you were never his to have and he was never yours. Hoseok had been right when he said these things were bound to come to an end ━ so why did it seem to hurt you so much?

A beat of prolonged silence passes between the two of you. Jungkook runs a hand through his chaotic blonde hair, digging the heel of his palm into his temple as if to rid himself of a headache he’s no doubt sporting. Maybe you’re waiting for a better explanation, but he gives none, and you don’t feel as if you have the right to ask why. He’s not your boyfriend, for god’s sake. It’s not like he’s breaking your heart.

Instead, you take a deep breath and say, “Okay.”

“Okay.” It’s all that he says in return.

So then why does it feel like he is?

When Jungkook had promised that if your fling with him ended you would go back to being untainted best friends, he was apparently lying.

A part of you can’t believe the sheer nerve of him to ghost you in his traditional fuckboy ways, and yet he does. You suppose not entirely, at the very least. Part of it ends up with you being even more vexed by his sudden shift in emotion, and the tangible tension that rises between the two of you should have been dealt with properly, yet neither of you do anything about it, leaving your friendship stagnant and stale for a week. After all, how are you really supposed to go back to “just friends” when you’ve seen his dick one too many times?

You refrain from telling Hoseok, if only so you don’t have to hear him tell you he told you so ━ but you also decide to give Yukhei that one chance, and so you think Hoseok wouldn’t mind so much anyway.

Admittedly, when Yukhei asks to hang with you at Taehyung’s eventual party, you aren’t entirely too keen, but you accept it if only because you heard Jungkook will be there too. For the majority of the night, you don’t see the boy, and you spend the hours cozying up with Yukhei in a conversation that dulls you. As it would appear, it seems to bore Yukhei too, but you only notice that when he starts touching you on your waist and the small of your back. There’s a moment where he leans his head close enough to yours that you realize he’s trying to kiss you, resulting in an awkward encounter in which you push him away, palms on his chest.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. The answer is obvious enough to you, but you don’t think you should tell him for his own dignity. That, instead, all you can imagine is Jungkook in his place. “Should we get out of here?”

“Y/N. Can I talk to you?”

You’re both fortunate yet horrified when you hear Jungkook’s voice. He’s standing just behind you, his own stare devoid of any emotion, though his brows furrow and his jaw clenches in a signature Jungkook manner that you know means he’s pissed. He hardly acknowledges Yukhei, nodding in his general direction. You don’t remember if you leave Yukhei there or if he leaves, or if Jungkook even gives a poor attempt of an excuse to the boy, but you’ve not so much as uttered a single word or let out an exhalation of air, when Jungkook ultimately pulls you off to the side where it’s just you and him once more.

“I’m not sucking your dick in Tae’s grimy bathroom, if that’s what you want,” You scowl once Yukhei is out of earshot. “You’ve lost the privilege that is my mouth.”

“That’s not━” Jungkook shakes his head, exasperated. “That’s not what I want. I just━ I’ll take you home. Please?”

You know the offer is much more than him simply walking you the route to your dorm, which you already know like the back of your hand. Yet, you don’t argue. Truthfully, it’s a relief when Jungkook lugs you out of the party. The entire venture back to your apartment is treacherous, in the way that you’re left sobering up enough to the point that your dizzying thoughts become more coherent. Hoseok is gone for the weekend at least, spending the days with his fiance, so you don’t have to worry about humiliating yourself in front of your roommate when it comes to Jungkook.

You’ve barely made it through your front door when you’re grumbling aloud, “What do you want, Jungkook?”

“I wanna talk,” he says firmly. “About us. About Yukhei.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.” But that’s a lie. Talking to Jungkook, even despite masquerading your annoyance for him, is a blessing in disguise. You’ve missed the idiot, and hearing his voice. “Besides, you told me to give him a chance.”

“And you said you didn’t want to.”

“Maybe I changed my mind.”

“Yeah, you sure seemed like you loved it when he was trying to shove his tongue down your throat,” Jungkook retorts bitterly. “C’mon, Y/N. We both know that’s a lie.”

“You know, you’ve been a real dick lately.”

A sliver of a smirk tugs at Jungkook’s face. “I thought you love dick.”

Clearly, his poor attempt at a joke doesn’t land well with you. “Why do you even care so much if Yukhei and I get together? Stop acting so high and mighty and moral, Jungkook. It’s not like you’re some virgin saint. How many times have I heard you talk about all those girls you’ve fucked? And what was I? Just another notch in your belt this whole time?”

“What?” Jungkook gasps now, as if disbelieving you would ever think such a thing. “No! You’re not just another notch. I would never even think about you that way. And I haven’t had sex with anyone else but you this whole time and I easily could have.”

“Wow! Such a martyr,” You remark dryly. When you speak next, you meet his stare with your own crestfallen gaze. “I just want my best friend back.” Your words hurt him more than you think, but he can’t say he doesn’t deserve it. “You’re the one who tried to kiss me, then suggested we stop whatever it is we’re doing━”

Jungkook flinches. “I know.”

“Then you ignore me for days even though you promised nothing would change━”

“I know,” he says desperately. He closes the distance between the two of you, yearning to reach out and touch you. Instead, he clamps his eyes shut, trying with all his might to focus when the room feels like it’s spinning.

“And then you get mad when Yukhei tries to make a move. It’s like you’re jealous or something!”

“I am.” He can’t take it anymore. The words tumble from his lips in a rush that he hardly bothers to bite back.

“Why?”

“Because━ Because━” He struggles to form his thoughts into words, stumbling over his sentence. Fuck, he’s never like this. Even you can tell. He grits his teeth next. “I lean in to kiss you and you look at me as if I’m out of my mind. I just don’t get it. You don’t want me to kiss you but you let me put my dick in your ass.”

The taut line of your lip quivers as you break. “That was one time and you didn’t even get all the way in!”

“Y/N.” Jungkook hums now. He’s gazing at you a little softly, reaching out to place his hands on your waist. “Look, I know I’ve been an idiot. But lately, when I touch you, I fucking feel so alive and the thought of Yukhei doing anything with you when it isn’t me, who should be with you, makes me want to vomit. And when I wake up in the morning alone, I only want you next to me. And I can’t be the only one feeling that way. If I am, tell me. Right now. Please. I just wanna know why you won’t ever let me kiss you, but you let me do all sorts of things with you. Am I really that repulsive?”

Another moment of silence stifles the room. Jungkook is so close to you now, you can’t help yourself. You reach up to tug at the collar of his shirt, fingers twisting in the material as you lean your forehead out of frustration against his shoulder and he instinctively lets his arms slither around your waist, holding you to him. Then━

“No.”

“What?”

“I only made the rule because I don’t want you to kiss me unless you mean it,” You murmur into his chest. “Like really, really mean it. Like I’m more than just a notch in your belt. Because I want to kiss you so badly, and I’m already in love with you but then I’ll really be in love with you and I don’t want to get my heart broken.”

The anticipation kills you, awaiting his response. You refuse to lift your head, until you hear him grumble, “You’re so fucking stupid.”

“Me?”

The retort is filled with your typical jestering hostility as you finally look at him. But just as you do so, Jungkook’s reaching out to grasp at your face, rough hands all soft and gentle as they cradle your cheeks, guiding you towards him and smoothing his lips over yours until you melt like putty in his hands.

Kissing Jungkook, you deduce at once, is not at all how you imagined it.

It’s everything and more. You’ve felt his mouth on you before but in much different circumstances. Between your legs, on your throat, down past the valley of your breasts ━ and each kiss then had been feral, sloppy, rough. Now, it’s sweet and tender, the feeling of his lips as soft as how he makes your heart feel. And the butterflies━ god, the butterflies.

Impatient hands tug and pull at one another until you’ve both stumbled into your room and onto your bed. He’s clambered over top of you, lips struggling to not part throughout the whole ordeal, until he’s wedged himself between your thighs.

Only then does Jungkook part from you just enough in the next moment, lips brushing against yours, as he whispers ardently, “I mean it.”

Then he’s kissing the corner of your lips down to the underside of your jaw, his mouth grazing along your skin in a feathery touch. His hands help you shed your shirt, and the bra underneath. “I mean it when I kiss you here.”

Then he drops his head to your neck, kissing at the base of your throat, before nipping at it lightly. “And here.”

Your hands come to thread in his hair, tugging at the roots. He burrows his face lastly in your chest, snatching the nipple of one of your breasts between his teeth. “Here…”

You’re so soft and supple beneath his hands, all his to love and explore.

“I want you, all of you,” he mumbles. “Only you.”

“Oh, Koo…”

A pretty moan tumbles from your mouth, and he could nearly cry. He had surely thought you were far past the point of enraged, far past the point of pensive words shaped in a heartfelt apology to bring you back to him. But then hearing you rasp his name ━ the little cute nickname that only you call him ━ makes him so goddamn remorseful.

He smothers your lips with his once more, groaning into your mouth. “I’m such a fucking dick. I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t say that,” You whine.

“I’m sorry,” he laments. He bites at your lower lip, suckling against it. “Please let me make it up to you.”

“You already have.”

“But I’ve been such a shitty friend,” he groans. It’s hard to focus when he’s pressing his hips against yours, the forming bulge in his pants straining against the inside of your thigh. “I should’ve known when to stop. I shouldn’t have even suggested the whole thing in the first place, because then I wouldn’t have messed us all up.”

“Jungkook,” Your grip tightens in his hair. “Jungkook━ I want you so bad. Just wanna be yours.”

“Yeah?” His breath is warm as it fans against your neck. You rub your core eagerly against him, throbbing pussy so close to making contact with his dick.

“Yeah,” You mewl.

“What do you want from me?”

“You. Wanna feel your dick in me, please,” Your fingers tug at the top of his jeans, prodding at the muscles on his abdomen. “In my mouth. Can make you feel better, Koo, I promise. Just wanna be your good girl.”

“Mmm, I like the sound of that.”

He lets you push him until he’s on his back and you’re straddling his hips. Your limbs entangle with his as you shed the rest of your clothes, your own hands wandering up and down the front of his body after he’s tossed his shirt onto the floor. Then he watches as you shimmy your way down his body. You’re so zealous in pleasing him, wrapping your hand around the base of his dick, head angry and red, dribbling pearly beads of precum down the shaft and over the bulging vein that lines it. You run your thumb over the tip and down, spreading the sticky fluid over him. He grunts in response, nearly jolting at your touch, as his head drops back against his shoulders.

“Oh, fuck,” he growls.

You pump him slowly, taking you time as your closed fist glides up and down his length. He shudders each time your hand reaches the base, and becomes so carried away with your leisure teasing that his eyes are screwed shut and misses the way you dip down to kiss at the tip of his cock. His eyes immediately flutter open, a flustered expression painting his face. You lap again at the head, saltiness coating your tongue, and you let out a simpering moan that has him quivering. And when you wrap your mouth entirely around his cock, sinking down along his length, he swears he’s about to fall apart. Your eyes flicker upward to meet him and the moment they lock, so sexy and dark, he has to look away for fear of busting right then and there. He reclines back against the bed once more, his hand flying out to grab at your hair.

“You’re so good to me, baby,” he rasps.

He can feel the curve of your lips against his cock as you suck him off. You do so well, too. Puffing your cheeks out, taking as much of him as you can until it feels as if he’s hitting the back of your throat. Then, you’ll suck at the tip of his cock, tongue swirling rapidly around, as your fist rubs his shaft. It’s a beautiful mix, one that inches him closer and closer to his high, and each time you switch he has to hold it together to not let go so soon. He wants to enjoy it, needs to bask in it. Your pretty mouth doing such sinful things, making him feel as if he were in heaven.

“Shit━” His hips jut forward to meet with your mouth, accidentally hitting the back of your throat without warning. You gag a little, but don’t pull away, and when he apologizes to you hastily, you only moan in response. A thought pops into his head that has him beckon aloud, “Will you be a good girl and let me fuck your mouth? Huh, baby?”

You hum in approval, eyes shimmering with glee.

So, he plants both hands in your hair, grabs at the sides of your head, and as you hollow out your cheeks, he bucks into your mouth. He does it again and again, listening to your crescendoing mewls of delight, forming a sticky mess of drool and cum that spills onto your chin.

“God, you’re so good,” Jungkook grunts. He’s a complete wreck, eyes screwing shut, blonde tresses spilling into his lashes. The muscles in his abdomen twitch with each sharp inhale of air he takes, so mesmerized by the shape of your pretty mouth around his dick, like you were made for him. “Such a good girl, huh?”

He fucks himself into your mouth roughly, frantically. Tears start to prick at your eyes from holding your breath, yet you keep yourself together just a little longer for him, lashes fluttering shut tightly.

“All mine too,” Jungkook hisses. “Wouldn’t let Yukhei do this to you, would you? Fuck, I’m━”

With your head left immobile stuck in his grasp, you hum in disapproval instead. You know he’s close when you start to hear him panting breathily. When he cums, it’s with a fractured whine and in short hot bursts onto your tongue and down your throat. You swallow as much as you can and, when he parts from you with a resonating lewd pop, you wipe away with your knuckles at the rest of his cum leaking out of the corner of your mouth and onto your chin. Dark hooded eyes meet with yours, a mischievous glint captivating them. You crawl over to him, straddling his hips once more, chasing his mouth with yours. Your own lips are so wet, coated in saliva and cum, bruised plump, but yet you’re smiling so innocently past the way he can taste himself on his tongue.

A dazed thought pops into your head that has you murmuring wistfully against him, “Say it again. I like hearing you call me baby.”

“Hmm? What about when I call you my good girl?” Jungkook nips at your lips. He grasps at your waist, flipping you over until you’re on your back beneath him. “You treat me so well, baby; you’re my only girl, you know that.”

A contented sigh sounds from you as you rut your hips in thinning desperation to meet his, so close to rubbing against his dick nestled against his thigh. He licks at his fingers hastily, reaching between the two of you to press against your clit, rubbing leisurely at the soft bundle of nerves. He’s learned how to navigate your body after months of supposed emotionless fucking, but now? Now, he felt as if his heart may just burst through his chest. Every reaction you make to his every touch ━ the needy plea to have him make you his, call you baby ━ makes him want to see more, and more.

“Am I?” You ask hoarsely. He grasps at his dick, guiding his tip to your core, so slick and wet, glistening with your own arousal. As he pushes himself in with a hiss, he watches as you contort beneath him. “Nnngh, Jungkook━”

“Fuuck,” he groans. He sinks into you, spreading your thighs further and further apart, until his hips make contact with yours. His mouth attacks yours with a feverish passion, the rumble of his moans and your whimpers muffling against one another. Then, he remembers to answer your awaiting question, barely audible between the way his tongue lavs at yours. “You are. I’m so fucking in love with you. But I don’t deserve you.”

Your hands tug impatiently at his hair. “Stop saying that.”

“But it’s true,” he hums. He’s quick to start rutting at your hips in a steady yet agonizing pace, dick burrowing into your pussy as your walls throb and shake. He can’t help but watch, mesmerized as always by the way his length slips past your folds and disappears into you. Again, and again, and again, so lewdly destroying your pretty cunt. “Just want Yukhei to touch you all over instead, don’t you?”

“No,” You croak.

You spread your thighs instinctively wider apart, allowing him to sink even further into you until it feels as if he’s hitting you so far in your stomach. Each roll of his hips is punctuated by the crude noise of skin against skin, sending you spiralling.

“Want him to do all sorts of dirty things to you, huh?”

“N-No. Fuck, Jungkook━ Harder, please━”

“That’s what you said,” Jungkook retorts. Still, he listens to your pleas, snapping his hips into yours roughly enough to send you jolting back on the bed. His hands start to roam your body, pinching at your hips, then grasping ferociously at one of your breasts. “Want him to fuck you in his car, right?” His palm feels like fire as it slides up past your collarbones to your throat. “Want him to choke you.”

His hand comes to wrap around the underside of your jaw on your throat, thumb and index finger pressing against the pressure points there. He squeezes, though with barely any force, just enough to feel your rapid pulse beneath his digits in a way that makes you so suddenly hyper aware of everything he’s doing to you. Cock stretching you wide, palm heavy around your throat, mouth folding over yours. So caught up in the overwhelming sensations you’re feeling, you can’t tell if he’s genuinely upset with himself, though you suspect part of him is. You can sense it in the way he clings to you a little tighter, can see it laced within his dazzling pupils.

Jungkook huffs, hair flopping into his eyes as he grits his teeth and ruts his hips faster into you if only to see more of your pretty little reactions. Your jaw unhinges at the feeling, head falling back onto the pillows. “He could probably treat you nicer too.”

You shake your head wildly, fingers digging into the skin on his shoulders. “Just want you, Koo.”

“Still?” he asks. His grip on your neck fastens a little more, pure euphoria riddling all your senses and making you writhe beneath him. “God, you’re such a dumb little slut, aren’t you?”

You nod in your groggy exhaustion, the familiar burn coiling in your stomach, making your toes curl.

Jungkook feels your own high approach. Your walls are clenched so tightly around him, he has to sputter for air. “Could he make you feel like this?”

“No, Koo,” You whine. “Only you.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook growls. “Good girl. Gonna cum around my dick like the good little slut you are?”

Your hips ricochet upwards to meet his, relentless pounding into your core. “Please, please━”

Jungkook quickens his pace until you’ve deteriorated into absolute shambles, whimpering his name after each thrust. You tumble towards your high, cuming around his length as he burrows it into you again and again, and all he can think is mine, mine, mine. As you unravel beneath him, he slides his hand off of your throat and slithers it underneath you and around your waist, hoisting you slightly enough off the bed so that he can reach his own orgasm. He’s a little more frantic now, sloppy and restless as he pummels into you.

“Shit, baby━” he cries out. “Oh, fuck, you’re so good━”

As you come down from your high enough, you somehow manage to murmur drowsily, “Cum in me, Koo. Wanna feel it.”

You grab at his face, pulling him down to catch his lips on yours, and the thought is so tempting he can’t refuse. He gets so lost in your lips, cuming with one final slam of his hips into yours and a chorus of curses mingling with your name in whimpers. He rides out both of your highs with a few half-hearted thrusts, more concerned with kissing you in useless open-mouthed kisses as your own mouth parts with one last weary moan while he fills you up.

When he’s spent, he collapses against your chest, and you collapse onto the bed. It’s quiet long enough for the both of you to calm the shrill beat of your hearts when you feel Jungkook stir, moving to part from you, pulling his dick from your swollen pussy and planting a lingering peck on your cheek. He disappears momentarily but returns a few seconds later, towel in hand which he uses to wipe at your core now leaking with his cum and your heart croons at all his tender touches.

It makes you realize all at once that, god, yes, you’re so in love with your idiot best friend and he’s so in love with you.

“Jungkook.”

He turns to look at you, an adoring smile dancing upon his lips when he sees your own radiant beaming face. You beckon him over and he relents, letting you pull him into your arms. He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck as he wraps his own arms around you to tug you closer to his side. As your fingers come to rake through his sweaty hair, he cranes his neck to follow your hand and hear him coo against your neck, “That feels so good.”

A sudden thought crosses your mind that has you smirking smally to yourself. “Are we… Are we cuddling? Jungkook, I thought you didn’t like cuddling. Said it was, and I quote, sentimental bullshit.”

“I never liked it because it wasn’t with you. Didn’t wanna waste my time on someone that wasn’t you,” Jungkook hums, matter-of-fact. You can tell he’s a little embarrassed at the way you so casually taunt him about such an obvious fact, though he’s fortunate you can’t see him smiling like a complete fool. “And I wanna do all that sentimental bullshit with only you. Now, shush━” He scolds you playfully. “M’so tired and I just wanna hold you tight.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Your heart leaps in your chest. “Just promise me one thing?”

It’s only then that he lifts his sleepy gaze to find yours, apprehensive of any potentially looming severity in your words. “Anything.”

Instead, all he can find is the way you trace your finger along the details of his face, from his nose, to his cheekbones, down to the freckle under his lip with the hand that sports your friendship bracelet. “In the morning, when we wake up, you’ll still be here to hold me tight. And every other morning after that.”

His smile widens even more, if that was even possible. “Wouldn’t want it any other way. But━”

“But?”

“On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

His eyes sparkle cheekily. “Kiss me.”

So, you do, again and again and again; and Jungkook thinks, yeah, he certainly can get used to this.

It takes you a month to cave in to Jungkook’s incessant pleas to fuck you to his sex playlist. You do it mostly to humour him, though part of you is a little bit intrigued at the thought.

Stowed away in his room, he eats you out to the choruses of sultry The Weeknd and raunchy Ariana Grande songs, fucks you to the likes of the Neighbourhood and Kim Petras while you’re on all fours, and you’re only half-paying attention to the music until you hear it. Admittedly, you almost completely miss it but you blame Jungkook and the way he’s making you currently feel, sprawled out beneath him, chests pressed flush against one another in a sweaty, sticky mess, breathy and glorious moans of your name filling your ears when━

“I had no choice but to hear you. You stated your case time and again━”

The dulcet chime of Alanis Morissette thrums about the room, a complete and utter shift in contrast in the atmosphere that has you immediately pausing.

“Jungkook.” But he knows what you set out to say even before you do, judging by the tone in your voice and the stifling smirk on his face. You gawk at him, biting at your lip to hide your laughter but you fail miserably. “You weren’t joking?”

He shrugs innocently, leaving you just as dumbfounded as you were two seconds ago. Instead, he says, “Gotta do what I promised then, don’t I?”

You quirk a brow. “What was that exactly?”

“Gotta give you the best orgasm of your life.”

“If you can do that to cheesy 90s pop, I’ll have your actual babies, Jungkook.” The effort is endearing and impressive, to say the least.

A roll of your eyes is met with a taunting roll of his hips into yours that wipes the jest off your face immediately. He grins like a madman, uttering a little stupidly, and a little ardently, “Say no more.”

Because, all things considered and joking aside, he wants it with you ━ the dazed daydreamy talk of a future together and kids, friendship bracelets, and cuddles in the morning. Because you mean the world to him and more. Because you’re his best friend, and he’s so madly in love with you.

Because he wants it all with you.

⟶ All rights reserved to © jungkxook. I do not allow reposting, translating, or any sort of modifying and reuploading of my work.

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

[lexosaurus]

Phic Phight 2022: Interview with a Ghost (part 1)

This is for @datawyrms and @things-i-cannot-do-in-amitypark thank you both for your amazing prompts!

Characters: Danny, Tucker, Sam WC: 1612 Summary: With an escalating ghost problem in Amity Park along with political unrest, the federal government finally steps in, placing sanctions around the city.

[ao3] [ffn]

---

“...curfew is eight p.m. on weekdays, and nine p.m. on the weekends,” the public relations officer was saying on the screen. “And lastly, there will be ecto-scan checkpoints throughout the city where public officials will be scanning people, objects, and structures at random for ecto-contamination. Once again, these are temporary measures we must take to protect the safety of the citizens of Amity Park until we and the state of Illinois can contain this problem. Thank you.”

The broadcast cut to the news anchor. “For those just tuning in, this press release was just issued by the federal government today regarding the escalating ghost problem in the city of Amity Park Illinois, and surrounding areas. The full list of towns affected by these new sanctions can be found on our website.”

“Well, shit,” Sam said. “I guess we can’t bring our ecto-weapons to school anymore.”

“We’ll have to figure out a way to hide the thermos,” Tucker said.

“That or we somehow get Danny’s parents to figure out a way passed the scanners.”

“Given that your parents would rather die than leave the house without their weapons, I’m sure they’re already thinking of solutions to pass the scanners. And we all know how much your dad loves rambling on about ghost shit,” Tucker said. “You know, I bet if we just mentioned the idea, he would do it no questions asked.”

But Danny was hardly listening to his friends. Despite Sam and Tucker’s seemingly nonchalant attitudes, Danny’s stomach was rapidly plummeting to the floor as ice settled in his veins.

“I just don’t understand how this is legal. They can’t really force us to a curfew.” Sam scoffed.

“Well, it is the federal government.” Tucker's eyes trailed over to Danny. “Hey man, you okay?”

He stood, gripping his head in his hands, and paced the floor, muttering a chorus of, “oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck” as he walked.

“Danny?” Sam asked.

But he couldn’t explain himself. He couldn’t even begin to untangle the thoughts jumbled in his brain, all the what-if scenarios, and inevitable problems.

He turned back to the TV where a blonde field journalist was talking into her microphone, her back facing a line of picketers outside the Mayor’s office armed with anti-ghost signs. “...this, after months of growing political unrest as the ghost situation has gotten worse for the city. And at the center of it all, one controversial teenage ghost, Danny Phantom.”

The camera cut away to a close-up of a stout woman with curly red hair. “They’re a danger to our children,” she ranted. “I have two sons at home, and every day they go to school I’m always worried about getting that phone call that their classroom was attacked. It’s relentless, and it’s only going to get worse.”

“And you believe Phantom is at the epicenter of this?” the journalist asked.

“Ever since the city started letting that ghost Phantom show up, this has been our life. They all need to go, him most of all.”

“Danny, don’t listen to that idiot,” Sam said, scowling at the woman on the screen. “She has no idea what she’s talking about.”

Danny shook his head. Sam and Tucker didn’t get it.

“We never used to have these problems back when I was a kid.” An older man with a handlebar mustache glowered into the camera. In his hand he held a sign that read, Go Back To Your Grave. “It’s only when Phantom showed up that all these ghosts started terrorizing the city.”

“Danny…”

“No—” Danny’s voice wavered. “They’re right. It—it is my fault. I was the one who stabilized the portal.”

"Don't be an idiot."

"But they're right. Listen to them."

“Didn’t your parents move here because they had measured that Amity Park had the weakest connection between Earth and the Ghost Zone?” Tucker pointed out. “It seems like this was always kind of inevitable.”

“I know, but—”

Sam stood abruptly and put her hand on Danny’s shoulder. “It is not your fault that the connection between the realms stabilized. It was a freak accident and it could have happened to anyone. So stop blaming yourself. Besides, Tucker and I were there too. If anything, we’re just as responsible as you.”

“Exactly!”

Danny refused to look into their eyes, instead suddenly finding much interest in the purple and black decorations covering Sam’s hangout room.

Off in the distance, he could hear the reporter carry on. “...others appearing in support of the elusive ghost.”

“He protects us,” a new voice said from the TV. “He’s mostly here during ghost attacks, and otherwise he disappears or can be found hanging out in the air and doing his own thing. It makes me wonder if he was from Amity Park, and that’s why he feels so drawn to protect our city.”

Sam lead him back to the couch, and Danny collapsed into the plush cushions.

“We need to come up with a plan,” Sam said. “A way for you to have a voice here as Phantom. You can’t exactly schedule a press conference because legally, you’re not even supposed to be here. And it looks like now, the government is really going to be upping their numbers around here. They’d never let anything so public slide.”

“Not to mention, considering you can’t go out in public in human form till we know how strong the sensors are, you’ll have plenty of time to be Phantom,” Tucker said.

At that, another wave of dread crashed through Danny, and he buried his face in his hands. “This is so messed up. What the hell am I supposed to do? I can’t be in public as Phantom or I’ll get arrested and handed off to the government to do god knows what, and I can’t go in public as Fenton or else I’ll get outed immediately.”

“At least it’s summer! That gives us plenty of time to figure out a way to get around the sensor problem till September.” Tucker said.

“Still messed up.”

“You can still go out as Phantom,” Tucker said. “You just can’t get caught. ‘Cause, you know, the no legal rights to exist thing.”

Danny leaned back against the couch and rolled his eyes up so far that his head craned up to stare at the ceiling. “Oh yeah, no big deal!” The sarcasm was dripping in his tone. “I’ll just keep doing my thing, constantly surrounded by federal agents who have every legal right to kidnap and torture me! No big deal at all.”

Sam tapped his shoulder, and Danny looked over to see Sam’s phone being shoved in his face.

“Hey, Danny,” Sam said, pointing to the screen. “I have kind of a weird idea.”

Danny took the phone, and to his confusion, a popular comedic podcast duo was splayed on his screen.

Tucker peered over his shoulder. “Hey, isn’t that those guys who tweeted at you recently to come on their show?”

“Yeah, and we ignored them because Phantom isn’t a media monkey,” Danny said, pointedly handing the phone back to Sam.

“Well, that was sort of before this whole mess started,” Sam said.

Realization hit Danny at once, and his mouth dropped in disbelief. “You of all people, Sam? I thought you hated PR stunts!”

“This is different!”

“How is this different?”

Tucker cackled. “See? I told you both that this was a good idea. But no, you didn’t listen to me before! Now look who was right!”

“Tucker, we didn’t listen to you before because it’s a bad idea,” Danny enunciated.

“It’s not, dude! Think about it!”

Danny shook his head. “I’m not some…some circus act!”

“Then don’t be one,” Sam countered. “You don’t have to do anything showy or put on a character. Just be yourself. I think that’s what they want, anyway. Phantom has never done a real sit-down interview before. This could be a good thing. And like you saw on TV, people don’t really get what’s going on, and they’re blaming you because they’re scared and looking for someone to blame. You make it too easy.”

“And no pressure, dude,” Tucker said, leaning in. “But ‘surprise podcast guest’ is going to be the only way you’ll be able to get any good PR till the feds give up.”

Danny sat there for a few moments of contemplative silence. On one hand, Sam was right. Danny had never done an interview before, and most videos of Phantom showed him in a more goofy manner. The public didn’t know how seriously Danny was taking this ghost problem because he had never talked about it. Not to mention, hardly enough people outside of the ectoscience community read enough papers to understand the science behind why Amity Park specifically was a hotbed for ghost attacks.

But on the other hand…well, interviews were terrifying. What if he messed up? What if he accidentally said something he shouldn’t have? What if people were able to make the connection between Fenton and Phantom?

He looked back at the TV, where the news was showing various images of the picket mobs stationed around not just Amity Park, but other cities in the US too. All holding anti-ghost signs, all fueled with hatred and misinformation.

“If we do this, I’m not going in blind,” Danny said. “I wanna practice beforehand.”

“Sure, that was a given,” Tucker said.

“And I get to pull out at any time.”

“Of course.”

“And I won’t be showing off my powers or doing any tricks for them.”

“We’ll be sure to let them know.”

“Okay.” Danny breathed out, running his hand through his hair. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

---

next>

---

datawyrms prompt: Ghosts having no legal rights is A Problem.

things-i-cannot-do-in-amitypark prompt: The federal government has had enough of Amity Park. Placing rules and sanctions on the city, they demand that the 'ghost problem' is taken care of– or else. Tensions are high, the politics are worse, and the hero of Amity Park, a ghost, finds himself caught in the middle of it.

[missmonsters2]

Between the Lines || XII

PAIRING: Steve Rogers & Fem!Reader (Platonic) / Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader / Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader / Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader x Wanda Maximoff

Summary: Vampire AU. Life has changed drastically since the 1600s. Things are always on the move, and you’ve been very careful to not get on SHIELDs radar. Living on the down-low owning a café, you’re content to live out a quiet existence. That is until the Avengers enter your life.

[Set after the New York Invasion, in CAWS, and goes up to AoU. Canon divergent after.]

Warnings: This series will contain smut(**), poly-relationship, and dark themes.

Note: Introducing....David’s king 😏🥰

PART I || PART II || PART III || PART IV || PART V || PART VI || PART VII || PART VIII || PART IX || PART X || PART XI

PART XII of XX

Translations:

не против - Don’t mind

ти си моето семејство, во овој и во следниот живот - You’re my family, in this life, and the next.

Count: 5,633

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"Ah..."

The sound made you stop, pulling your mouth away as you stood straighter while licking your lips. 

Wanda stood in front of you, breathless as she leaned against the wall, unable to move too much with the tight space. Her hands drifted from your neck to rest on your biceps. Turning, you look at the mirror before you. 

Eyes red with stained lips, you internally sighed, feeling an uncomfortable pit in your stomach that told you everything felt both right and wrong. 

"I think that's enough..." You say quietly so Wanda can hear, but you don't attract too much attention outside. You turn to grab some paper towels from the dispenser as you wet them under the sink to wipe your mouth. 

Turning to Wanda, you notice you hadn't closed up the wound on her neck and purse your lips. The brunette seems to realize as well as she tilts her head to the side, exposing her neck to you once more before she grabs the edge of your bomber jacket and pulls you back against her roughly.

"Wanda," you call her name in warning. Though you are a seasoned vampire, you weren't looking to dance along the edge with the newly feeding you have to do.

"You should finish me off before you say you're done at least," Wanda says, and you feel yourself biting your tongue at how suggestive she sounds.

You wonder if she's doing it on purpose. 

Nonetheless, you sigh, leaning your head down, careful to not brush yourself more against her than you must. You lick at the bite wounds, tentatively but quickly, watching the wounds close after.

You pull away, Wanda letting her grip go on you. You use the wet towel to wipe her neck clean of the bloodstains before you throw it down the toilet and flush.

Though feeding gives you energy and revitalizes you, you can't help but feel drained from the experience. 

You're about to leave again when Wanda pulls you back.

"Wanda," you say in a more serious warning this time. She's been a little more daring the past couple of days, and you're both intrigued and frightened by it. 

Luckily for you, Wanda seems to know where the line is. 

"Relax," Wanda cocks her brow. "Your eyes are still glowing red. You should wait until it subsides before you go out."

You look back in the mirror, eyes glowing red brightly, and you sighed. Your body was overly excited about feeding again, and it would take time to adjust.

The two of you idly stand in the small space. You could hear people coming back and forth to check if the washroom is empty.

"So, how often is often?" Wanda asks.

You stand stiffly, cursing at how small airplane washrooms are.

"For now, once a week," you answer her. "But let me know if you feel unwell, and I will check to see if it's my venom."

Wanda nods, blinking languidly.

"I'm sorry," you say when you notice she looks tired. "I promise I will find a way to fix this."

Wanda gave you a tiny smirk. 

"No rush."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

When you returned to your seat, you sat down with a sigh.

"You alright?" Natasha asked as she grabbed your hand. You turn to look at David. He was clutching his legs in tighter so that Wanda could squeeze past him to her seat. 

"Yeah, sorry for taking so long. The red in my eyes are still adjusting to fresh blood," you apologize to Natasha, pulling her hand to kiss the back of it gently before you settle in your seat.

It was just you and Natasha in the aisle, a small moment of peace that you're thankful for. It's been rather quiet between you and Natasha the last few days. When David had located Leo's descendant, he wanted to book the flight for the next day, but you insisted on taking a couple days to get your things together and rest. 

The days that followed were simply being in your home with Natasha, quiet as it seemed like Natasha was working through her own emotions and things she seemed not ready quite yet to speak to you about. 

And you were okay with that. 

"Have you been to Nashville before?" Natasha asks as she looks out the window, the city getting closer in view as it lowers. 

You nod, rubbing your thumb idly on the back of her hand. "Yes," you say, "In fact, David and I lived there for a few years."

"Oh?" Natasha smiles. "Did you like it?"

You shrug. "It's a little too country for me and not the good parts of Country culture." 

Natasha nods, and you take a moment to put your head on her shoulder, deeply inhaling the scent of vanilla and dry leaves. Natasha leans her head over, pressing her lips to the side of your head, causing your heart to flutter.

"I think I want to be in Bora Bora or maybe the Maldives," Natasha says softly after a moment. 

You turn your head upwards slightly, peering up at Natasha's face.

"I'll take you anywhere you want to go," you say as Natasha smiles, head lowering as she presses her lips against yours.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

It seems like autumn is also coming to an end in Nashville, the air smelling a little crisper for winter arrival. 

Pietro has called Wanda again once her plane landed. He was a little upset that he couldn't come along, but Steve said he could use the help with locating Bucky, and speed would definitely be helpful.

At first, Pietro declined, but then Wanda insisted that he go with Steve. If they were going to make up for the things they've done and be a part of the team, this was the time to show it.

And so, they parted ways for the first time since, well, ever. 

"How are we getting there?" Wanda asked as she looked around the airport. Her face held a thinly veiled layer of discomfort that she was trying to hide, though poorly.

"Are you okay?" Natasha asked as she looked at Wanda, seeing through the tough act.

Wanda stared at Natasha, and for a moment, you don't think she's going to answer.

"Yeah," Wanda says finally, licking her lips and swallowing. "I'm just a little tired...and there's a lot of people here. It's...loud."

Natasha looks around and notes that it seems to be prime time for flights. People are bustling around trying to get to their gate on time, and families have gathered to meet people coming off the plane or say goodbye. 

"I can't do anything about the loudness," Natasha says, digging into her pocket. "But, here." Pulling out a hard candy wrapped in transparent paper, she gives it to Wanda.

Wanda holds the candy in her palm, tilting her head slightly before she looks back at Natasha. "Thanks."

"Might help with the tiredness," Natasha shrugs before she tells you she'll go grab the bags and walks off with David following her. 

Wanda is opening the candy from the wrapper, popping the little thing in her mouth as she sighs, eyes fluttering close as she rubs her temple. 

"Headache?" You ask her, garnering her attention.

Wanda nods with a frown. "Yes, more so lately, and it's worse in a crowd. I can hear everything in people's heads, and in a crowd, it's a jumble."

"Turn it off," you tell her with a shrug, and she gives you a look.

"It's not that easy."

"It is," you tell her back. "You're like a radio picking up every station is the available area. It gets easier with time and practice to distinguish the noise, but if you can't handle it in such a large crowd, turn it off."

Wanda merely stares at you as if she doesn't know whether or not to believe you, but she supposes because it's not like you're a stranger to her powers, she sighs.

"How?" She asks.

You come to stand closer to her, blocking her view of anything behind you.

"Focus," you tell her, "You only need to be hearing one voice, and that's your own. Focus on the space within your own mind. Live there."

Wanda gives you a look where it tells you she doesn't quite think it will work but closes her eyes with a sigh and takes a deep breath.

"I...I can't focus," Wanda says frustratingly. 

"Relax," you tell her. "Try again, but this time, focus on my voice."

You go on to talk about miscellaneous things like the color of the walls, the scuff marks on the ground, the man with an obstinately ugly hat. And before you know it, the stress lines on Wanda's face begin to fade.

"Better?" You ask when she opens her eyes.

"Yeah," Wanda says breathlessly with relief, "Thank you."

You don't say anything else as Natasha comes back with David.

"So, how are we getting there?" Wanda repeats.

"We rented a car. I'll go grab it and pull it up front," you walk off before anyone say anything.

The ride is silent, with just a radio playing quietly in the background. It's you and David in the front as David helps you navigate and discuss details with you.

But that leaves Natasha and Wanda in the back. The two girls are on opposite ends, looking out the window. 

You sigh internally as you focus on the road in front of you.

"What's his name again?" 

David pulls up a file. "Robert," he says after a moment. "Devayan. He is Leonard's great-great-grandson. He's the priest for a church in his neighborhood. Well-known and respected in his community. He's got a wife, two kids, and a dog—very American dream with a picket fence and all."

You hum. 

"Does Leonard's descendants know about...?" Natasha asks as you look in the rearview mirror. 

"Us being vampires?" You supply for her helpfully with a smile as she nods. "Yes, they do, but the secret is only passed to the child who has the greatest alchemy affinity, which most kids won't show until they're at least 13."

"That being said," David jumps in, "we haven't really kept in touch because we only go to a descendant when we have another vampire entering a coven because they have to get the searings to be able to go into the sun, amongst other things. And as you can see, we haven't added anyone new since me."

You turn into a bright community. The sound of children's laughter and dogs barking make their way to your ear. It's a lively little suburban neighborhood, and you wonder if this was something you would have ever wanted. 

"Leonard seemed to be really close to you, to be willing to do so much," Wanda comments as she continues to stare at the window at the children playing. 

You pull up to the house, putting the car in park with a sigh.

"He was family."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

"Sorry, the wife and kid's are out shopping right now."

You look at the man before you. He was a young priest, and there were hints of Leo that you recognized in him, like the subtle ginger hair. 

"Didn't want to tag along?" David asks, and Robert laughs.

"Goodness, no. Can't say that's how I like to pass my time." Robert sets down a tea tray for the four of you, and Wanda takes up the task of pouring it. Putting in a splash of milk and two and a half sugar cubes, she gives a cup to you.

"Thanks," you say, scrunching your eyebrows initially. But it was your favorite way of taking simple tea, and you took it with ease. 

"не против," Wanda mutters as she continues on with pouring tea for Natasha and David, but leaves them to put in their own condiments.

"So, what's this about?" Robert asks as he settles into his seat. 

You shift in your seat a little, licking your lip before you clear your throat and bring his attention to you. "Yesterday is gone, tomorrow is a mystery, and today, I have you..."

Robert just stares at you wide-eyed and mouth gaped open. He seems to regain himself and clears his own throat.

"Until the days run out..." he breathes.

"ти си моето семејство, во овој и во следниот живот," you both complete the passage. His Slavic being much rougher than yours, but still, he completes it.

"Huh," Robert grunts in the back of his throat. He slumps in the back of his chair, blinking as he clasps his hands together. "You really exist."

"Did you think I didn't?" You cocked your brow at him. 

Robert gives a short, humorless laugh. "To be fair, no one in my family has seen you for a very, very long time. It's not like we have a family photo of you just lying around. I thought my grandfather was lying to me, and my father was not a believer either."

"Well," you shrug, "It gets hard to keep up with visitations when there's no reason to really."

"Even though the passage literally says we're family?" Robert cocks his brow.

"Leo was my family. By that extension, yes, you are somewhat family, a wonderful legacy Leo left behind that I promised him I'd take care of," you try to delicately tell the man before you that no one could ever be family the way Leo was.

"Kind of hard to take care of us when you're not around," Robert says, but not in an unkind way.

"Being around is not the only way I can fulfill my promise. You truly think your family's trust fund just comes out of nowhere?" You rest your jaw against your hand. 

Robert seems surprised at that like he had no idea his entire family line was sponsored by you. 

"So it seems," Robert smiled softly before clearing his throat. "So what can I do for you?"

You lick your lips.

"I'm looking for you to find a way to break my curse, or at least, find a counterspell to suppress it until I can find another way," you tell him.

Robert stares at you. It takes a long moment, but he gives another small smile, sighing deeply as he grasps his temples. "Hah..." he lets out. "Figures the one time you come to see us for help, and I can't even help you. I was hoping you just needed a place to stay."

"What do you mean?" David asks, frowning. "You haven't even tried."

Robert looks up again, staring at David before he turns to you.

"I don't have the affinity for alchemy."

Silence ensues after Robert reveals his lack of gift. 

"You...don't have the affinity..." David says slowly.

"Guess it decided to skip a generation. My father wasn't much of a practitioner either," Robert pursed his lips together. He gets up, walking over to the kitchen, grabbing something off the refrigerator before coming back and passing the item to you. "This would be the person to go to if you're looking for help on that."

You look at the postcard in your hand with an address from Vermont. 

There wasn't anything else but a name and a short message.

Liam Bai I have settled in. 

"And who is this?" You frown. The idea of having some outsider know your secrets was not ideal. 

Robert sighs.

"He's my adoptive brother."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

The annoyance of traveling all the way to Texas just to go to Vermont, an hour away from New York, irks you slightly. 

David pulls up a file on Liam on the way, but not too much is found. 

Chinese descendant. 26. Tattoo Artist. Adopted by Robert's grandfather when Liam was 17. 

He seems to run a small tattoo shop in Vermont, a decent following on his Instagram. Other than that, it seemed Liam prized his privacy and peace. No tickets, no personal social media accounts, a minimal online presence. 

"Jeeze, this guy gives me serial killer vibes. Only weirdoes have such a small digital footprint," David curls his lips. 

"We all have virtually none too, David," you cock your brow at him.

"Case and point," David smirks back at you while Natasha and Wanda chuckle.

Liam's house is a little away from the city where his tattoo shop resides. There are houses but quite spread apart, and it only reaffirms how Liam likes his quiet. 

The trees are bare with autumn colored leaves on the ground. The air crisp and cleaner being away from the city. When the four of you approach Liam's home, it a quaint house, wider than it is taller, and painted a deep burned orange. 

Hopping up the steps, you cross your arms and tap your foot impatiently, turning to look at the open space while Natasha rang the doorbell and knocked on the door with her knuckles.

You hear footsteps within the house, stern steps as they lazily make their way to the door. 

When it opens, you turn, and your eyes widen along with everybody else's.

This man, at least six feet tall, towers over everyone as he casually lifts his arms high to lean against each side of the door with his left leg crossed lazily over his right. 

He wears a muscle shirt, most of the top part of his body exposed. 

Tattoos. 

Everywhere.

A large black ornate religious cross tattooed on his throat, while you could see most of the creations of hands branded across his front chest near his collarbones, fingers just about it meet at his jugular notch. Each arm had a full sleeve tattoo. 

His left arm was designed with a twisted snake going downwards, a bitten apple in its mouth, shrouded with leaves and vines. His right arm were things you didn't quite recognize but could guess it was alchemy spells, fully tattooed elaborate circles and symbols. Even his hands and fingers had symbols and shapes. 

He looks like belongs in a gang rather than the adopted grandson of a long line of priests. 

"Well," his voice is somewhat low but soft. "You must be the visitors my dear brother sent my way." The way he says dear brother has the slightest tone of amusement, and you're not sure what to make of it. 

You stare at him a bit longer because his face is much clearer than the photo David pulled up. His skin is fair with a cool complexion, thick brows, and tousled black hair that seems to be perfectly styled that way with his fringe cascading just above his eyebrows, parting to reveal his forehead. His almond-shaped eyes showed a deep dark brown, like the rich soils of the earth, but yet hold no warmth. 

He looks somewhat familiar, but you're not sure if it's just because you recognize those eyes in yourself once upon a time.

You look over to David, who has his jaw hanging as he stares at the man before them. You nudge him, drawing him out of whatever trance he was in as he coughs to clear his throat.

"Er, yes," David stutters before he rambles off everyone's name quickly. "Can I--can we come in?" David blinks, and Liam turns his head slowly, locking eyes with David. A moment passes, and you're about to speak up again when Liam stands straighter and turns to walk back into his house.

The four of you follow the man inside, looking at the place around you. Antique furniture, just like yourself, but there are shelves upon shelves of books. 

Liam walks into his kitchen, putting on a pot of hot coffee as he pours himself some, but doesn't offer any to anyone else. He then walks into his study room and leans against his desk, half-sitting on the edge.

"What are you looking for help with?" He asks, neither sounding reluctant or eager. 

"Robert mentioned you were adopted into the family because you had an affinity for alchemy," you say. "I'm assuming you know--"

"That you're a vampire?" Liam cuts in. "Yes."

"You don't seem surprised by that," David interjects slowly. "Even Robert was taken aback."

Liam rolled his eyes lightly. "You can spare me the details. Robert and I both went through the spiel with his grandfather. Robert doesn't have the affinity. I do. Belief is different when you are different too."

"His grandfather...?" You raise your brow.

Liam puts his coffee down beside him. "You must realize that though I've been adopted by them, I'm not an actual descendant of Leonard Devayan. It was clear that I was brought in to help fulfill the promise between you and Leonard. I get financial support from them, but I'm not entitled to your trust fund to them, nor can I inherit the church."

"That's kind of fucked up, considering you'll be doing all the work here," you frown. 

Liam shrugs. "No need to feel sorry for me, I have zero interests in their money or inheriting the church, and Robert is annoyingly persistent that I visit them during the holidays. Besides, you can probably tell, I don't quite look like the regular priest."

"Actually," you give Liam a small smile, "Leo was rather similar to you. He liked tattoos as well. Though, just on his hands. He wasn't as adventurous."

Liam gave a small smirk but moved on. "So," he takes a breath, "What exactly are you looking for help with. Robert wasn't clear on the phone. Are you looking to turn more people and need searings for the sun?"

"No," you breathe, "I need you to help figure out how to end my curse."

Liam stares at you for a moment. The curse wasn't discussed in great length to him as not too much information was passed down because Leonard believed you wouldn't try to ask to remove it again. 

Still, he eyes you before he turns and studies Natasha a bit before Liam looks at Wanda.

"You bit her, spreading your curse to her," Liam deduces. 

"How do you know it's Wanda?" Natasha asks with a slight narrow of her eyes.

Liam licks his lip as he stands up, using his fingers to gesture everyone to follow up. He walks up to his bookshelf and pulls a book down like a lever, and the entire bookshelf splits and makes way into a secret room.

Inside the room, there are rows of tables filled with papers and things you would find in a science lab: beakers, stirring rods, mortars and pestles, and chemicals.

"In some ways, alchemy is a derivative from a witch's spells or magic. What do you think alchemy is?" Liam asks. 

"Leonard always said it was a power given to them by God to be able to protect themselves against the supernatural," you recall.

"Kind of, not really," Liam says as he walks over to grab a black chalk and begins to draw circles and symbols on the ground around Wanda, motioning her to stay in place. "There are different types and levels of alchemy. Alchemy, one on hand, can also be a science. It's changing one thing to something else. Anyone could practice it. Even Robert could to a degree."

Liam finishes drawing and drops the chalk to the side as he dusts off his hands. 

"But to have the gift for alchemy," Liam lifts his thumb to his lips, "Means your DNA has an affinity to the sun, the moon, the wind, or the earth." 

Liam bites down on his thumb hard enough to break the skin, blood rushing out, the smell assaulting both you and David instantly before Liam presses his thumb against the line of the circle. 

The air changes. 

A white, hot electric buzz fills the air as the alchemy circle flashes a bright blue for a second before returning to normal. The chalk drawing underneath Wanda disappears.

"What...happened?" Wanda asks slowly as she looks at her hands and the rest of her body, but she doesn't find anything amiss. 

Liam gestures at Wanda to check where her sternum is. Pulling the front of her shirt at the neck, she peers down. 

"What..." Wanda mumbles. 

Both you and Natasha looked at each other before moving forward to check, Wanda holding her shirt open for the two of you. Wanda's bra was blocking part of the view, but her sternum now visibly bore the curse's inscription. The black words on her skin and then dark-colored veins prominently spreading outwards from her sternum.

"What did you do to her?!" You whip your head towards Liam, snarling at him.  

He holds his hand up to calm you down.

"Nothing dangerous, relax," he cocks his brow at you. "As I said, Alchemy is about changing one thing to something else. I used the chalk as a medium to bring the curse to the front of Wanda's body so it can be visibly seen."

When you realize Wanda's not in any imminent danger, you pull your snarl back, and the red from your eyes fade away. 

"This will help you tell when the curse is spreading. Wanda's veins will darken and spread as her cells deteriorate. Don't EVER let the dark veins spread past her chest. If you do, the curse is meant to collapse her sternum and pierce her heart. She will die." Liam warns sternly, eyebrows furrowed together, and lips in a straight line. 

"How do you know?" David asks with a slight frown.

"As I said," Liam looked at David, "Alchemy is a derivative from witch's spell or magic. The inscriptions are alchemy transmutation spells. If an alchemist has an affinity for alchemy, they can tell when it's been used on someone." Liam turns to you. "That's how I know it was Wanda that you bit."

You nod curtly. You think about how the veins were just barely protruding from her sternum, so Wanda would be relatively safe for a while since you just fed on her during the plane ride to Texas.

"What did you mean that your DNA has an affinity to the sun, moon, wind, or the earth?" Natasha asks.

You turn your attention back to Wanda, trying to inspect if she was indeed okay. It wasn't that you didn't trust Liam, but you couldn't help but worry.

All of this was your fault.

The fact that Wanda was cursed with potentially no way of getting out of this.

And the complicated mess you know would only hurt everyone in the end, so you needed to get this shit sorted out.

"It means," Liam interrupted your thoughts. "I have an extra DNA strand."

You blink.

"Honestly, I don't blame people in the past, believing alchemy was a gift or power given by God," Liam shrugs. "In a way, I guess they're not wrong. Alchemy's affinity comes from people who have an extra DNA strand from one of the natural elements. The sun, the moon, the wind, the earth." He uses his fingers to count as he speaks. "Having an extra DNA strand is a...mutation. The deformity being able to perform alchemy as a power. As you can guess, depending on what extra DNA strand you have, that's the alchemy you have an affinity to."

Natasha nods thoughtfully as she holds her chin. "I see. So the sun would be fire, the moon would be water, the wind would be air, and the earth is well...earth."

"Exactly," Liam nods.

"Leonard must've been fire," you say pensively to yourself, reminiscing. 

"What are you?" David asks Liam, licking his lips.

Liam tilts his head to the side.

"I have four extra DNA strands."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

Something has been putting you on edge since you've arrived in Vermont.

"Are you okay?" Natasha asks softly, catching you look out the window for maybe the millionth time now. 

"Yeah, sorry," you breathe, uncrossing your arms. "It's just...something feels off," you tell her quietly, as to not attract the attention from others.

Liam and Wanda were currently looking over his books and scrolls to see if he could find anything that would help Wanda while David helped them.

"What do you mean?" Natasha asks as she takes a seat on the couch's armrest, pulling you closer, so you were between her legs. She rubs your arms up and down, hoping to comfort you.

"It's just..." you start to say before you turn sharply at the window again. Natasha's brows furrow, but she has no time to ask as you barrel into her while David tackles both Liam and Wanda to the ground. 

The glass of the window shatters as a body breaks through. It happens so fast, you hardly even have time to move, but you do. 

You smell burning flesh because there's still sun out, though it's setting. A snarl rips through the air as the intruder turns and leaps toward Wanda. David gets up, forcing his feet to push off the ground as he launches towards the vampire. The two of them collide into a blurring mess. 

Natasha starts to get up, but you hold her in place.

"What--"

"Don't," you warn her. "If that thing collides into you, your body will tear apart, enhanced, or not."

You get up, running over to David as he's pinned to the ground as you rip off the vampire. 

Even with his fleshed burned, he was strong. 

Liam scrambles to get up as he grabs another chalk nearby and starts drawing another transmutation circle on the ground as fast as he can. 

You're trying with David to get the upper hand on this vampire, one locking him into place while the other tries to rip his head off.

"Wanda," Liam calls, and she turns to him with worry in her eyes as she stands in the corner, unsure of what to do. "I'm creating a prison for him. You need to use your powers to place him in here and keep him down."

"Okay," Wanda says determinedly. 

You look at David, who nods in sync with you. You both let go of the vampire at once, and Wanda lifts her hands, casting her powers over the vampire to lock it in place.

He tries to thrash in place, but it's impossible to move with Wanda's vice-like grip on him. She wobbly moves him until he's in the middle of Liam's transmutation circle. 

Liam bites in the same place of his thumb earlier, breaking the wound once more, letting a single drop of blood fall in. 

The ground starts to shake slightly as the floor where the vampire lies crumbles, giving way. The outline of the circle lights up, and suddenly, vine-like branches with spikes shoot out of the ground. It wraps around the intruding vampire, the spikes piercing his body. He screams out in pain, trying to move, but is unable to due to Liam.

The light fades, leaving the vampire bleeding out as he's trapped in his spot.

"What...was that?" Wanda asked, everyone clearly knowing that he was after her.

You help Natasha off from the ground, checking her for injuries. You find nothing other than a tiny cut on her cheek from a stray glass shard.

"I'm okay," Natasha assures you, more frustrated with herself for being unable to do anything. 

You frown, wiping off some of the blood with your glove before you turn to the offender on the ground. 

"That was so cool," David breathes as he looks at Liam, who is giving him a tiny smile.

With the vampire immobile, you could finally take a good look. 

He was somewhat sickly pale. His eyes were red, a dark red, meaning he wasn't hungry when he lunged for Wanda. 

But the thing that stood out the most to you what the prominent veins underneath his eyes.

And you've seen that before. 

"No," you frown in denial. 

"Where did you come from?" You demand, but the vampire just smirks.

You want to leap in to strangle the thing, but Liam holds your arm to hold you back. 

"Anything that steps into that circle will be roped in just like him," Liam warns.

The vampire continues to bleed out as it laughs.

"Wait--" David says, "he's actually dying. Look!"

Everyone looks to where David is pointing at, and you clench your jaw. As a vampire, the only thing that could kill you was wood from the Methuselah tree. Yet, this vampire was disintegrating, turning to dust at his toes.

The vampire looks at you, and you feel a chill down your spine.

"How cute," he tells you, voice raspy as he's disappearing. "Looks like you have everything you've wanted."

You furrow your brows at him.

"Do I know you?" You say, but the vampire doesn't even seem conscious of the fact that he's speaking. 

"My love," he says, looking at you, and while you revolt, there's something familiar in the way he says it. 

Like you've heard it before.

"It seems you've learned how to want more," he smiles cruelly. "But if it's not more for the right things...then I'll show you what it's like to lose everything you have."

Your heart drops.

"Wait!" You shout, trying to somehow get him to stay, but before you could say anything else, the vampire completely crumbles to dust, leaving nothing behind.

All of you stare at the empty space. The shackles that were holding the vampire in place disappears along with the transmutation circle.

"No," you start to say quietly. "No, no, no, no--"

"Hey!" David grabs you, trying to keep you calm.

"This can't be," you say slowly.

"What? What's wrong?" David shakes you by the shoulder a little. 

You look at him.

"That was her."

Silence.

"What?" David says, not understanding. 

You look at the ground where the vampire used to be.

"I don't know how...but that was her," you say.

"That was Tatyana."

PART XIII

[queersatanic]

"My Satanic Adventure or 'I was a Teenaged Satanist!' " by Isaac Bonewits

The [preceding] was first published in 1975 c.e. in response to a

In the city of Berkeley, California, there is a large T-shaped intersection at the main southern entrance to the campus of the University of California, where I enrolled as a sophomore in the fall of 1967, at the tender age of 17. Here, where Telegraph Avenue runs north into the east-west Bancroft Avenue, there is a large expanse of brick sidewalk between the traffic on Bancroft and the short cement pillars that mark the entry into the plaza between Sproul Hall (the administration building) and the Student Union. It was on those bricks that I spent many leisure hours heckling the preachers who held court there in the late 1960’s.

On a small soapbox (yes, a real, genuine soapbox), “Holy” Hubert Lindsey, gap-toothed, flaming-haired and loud mouthed, would hold forth to the multitudes about how sinful they all were. Mr. and Mrs. Tieman, a middle aged couple, would hold up large white posters covered with alternating lines of red and black magic marker, that told us how sinful and evil we were, while they sang hymns over a small loudspeaker. Off to one corner, the Krishna Consciousness devotees would bang away at their drums and chant on and on and on. Various “Jesus Freaks” would wander around accosting students and subjecting them to impromptu sermons (all carefully memorized). Scientologists would hand out tracts and Marxists passed out picket signs. It was all marvelously exciting.

Naturally, the favorite sport of many Berkeley students was “Let’s heckle the religion nuts!” As a new transfer student with an already strongly developed interest in magic and religion, I jumped right in with my fellows (almost all male) and started bugging the preachers. However, I noticed after a few months that our heckling had very little effect except our own diminishing amusement. The evangelists were immune to all the standard methods of heckling — the catcalls and philosophical paradoxes rolled off them like water off a duck’s back. The evangelical, gospel-spouting approach seemed impervious to all logic and reason. It was in my third quarter at Cal that inspiration hit me.

On a beautiful Spring afternoon in March 1968, I arrived at the corner of Bancroft and Telegraph with a small platform, painted black, a small loudspeaker, also painted black and a piece of black posterboard with alternating lines of red and white lettering. The top line on my sign said “The Devil’s Advocate.” It is impossible to adequately describe the horror and dismay of the preachers as I stood up on my platform, dressed all in black, and began a loud, long, sonorous sermon in my best southern accent — on behalf of the Christian Devil.

What I was preaching that afternoon was what I have since come to call “Liberal Heterodox” Satanism. I preached the Devil as Lucifer, the “Light Bearer,” champion of the intellect against repressive tyrannies on the one hand, and the original “party animal” on the other — sort of a combination of Prometheus, Bacchus and Pan. I had a “Hell” of a good time flaying my audiences for not being sinful enough, and for listening to the preachers. Inside of five minutes there was an audience around my platform larger than any of the evangelists had every raised. Some of them pretended to “heckle” me (and a few Jesus People actually did), but all their arguments were swept aside by classic preacher-think.

That day, and for many days thereafter, I practiced the art of improvisational street theater, using all the standard evangelical lines and parables to ridicule and confuse the preachers. I had been at my platform less than a week when a young woman came up to me and said, in a deliberately erotic voice, “Hi. I’m a Witch. Would you like to join the Church of Satan? You sound like you’d be perfect.”

Since she was rather pretty I quickly replied, “Hi. What’s the Church of Satan?”

“It’s the famous Satanic Church run by Anton LaVey in San Francisco,” she explained.

“Never heard of him,” I replied brightly.

“Well, you’ll like him. He’s into just the same things you are. Why don’t you go see him?” she said, handing me a card with his address and giving me a smoldering look that promised much.

So I went to see him. His hokey black house with the gothic furnishings has been described so many times by reporters that I won’t bother. Suffice it to say that I met the man and liked him very much. He was friendly, smooth talking, played the organ beautifully, and promised me much assistance in my endeavors to torment the campus evangelists. I was invited to join the Church, membership fees were waived, and I was invited to attend his lecture series for free! (The waiving of those fees, as well as those for the weekly meetings, I learned later was almost unheard of.) He handed me a bunch of literature from his Church to hand out and I went back to Berkeley bemused and intrigued by what I was getting into.

Well, three months went by. One of the members of the Church made me a more powerful loudspeaker and thousands of LaVey’s tracts were printed up and handed out. I eventually built a large black throne on wheels, with a tape recorder, microphone and umbrella holder to keep the sun off my head. I called this my “Sinmobile,” and wheeled it across campus every day to the evangelical corner, so that I could preach in comfort. In short, I really had a lot of fun that spring.

During this time, I became a regular at the Church of Satan. I attended LaVey’s lectures, went to his Friday night rituals, and quickly became one of his regular altar boys and a “Satanic Minister.” I’ll never forget the evening when I decided to ad lib some fake “Enochian” invocations during one of the ceremonies. I dramatically intoned a lot of gibberish, using the same guttural tones that Anton always used, and everyone in the ritual acted very impressed. Afterwards, I asked Anton, “How’d you like my Enochian?” and he gave me a look that would have melted sheetrock. He did not, however, warn me of the dangers of mucking with this ceremonial language, as any real Enochian magician would have done out of sheer self-preservation (since they all believe that it is a terribly powerful magical tongue), nor did he complain that I had ruined his magical intent, as he would have done if he had actually been doing any magic. It was at that point that I realized two important things about Anton: he really didn’t know very much about Enochian and he wasn’t actually trying to do magic in his supposedly magical rites. I began to wonder if he even knew how.

But I continued to hang out at the Church, discussing magic, philosophy and Satanic theology with Anton and the other members and trying (unsuccessfully) to seduce some of the rare young women in the Church. Occasionally I would even flirt with Anton’s teenaged daughter — which really flipped him out, despite the fact that she wouldn’t give me the time of day. I never was able to figure out whether he was jealous, worried about protecting her virtue, or concerned that my “commie” attitudes might be contagious.

At one point that spring, some friends of Anton’s showed up with cameras and started filming bits and pieces of faked-up rituals. Since I was still an enthusiastic ritualist, I was drafted to play various silly parts in these. I climbed into a coffin with a naked woman while wearing a bishop’s costume, stabbed a poppet with a knife, asked the high priest (Anton, in his Red Devil costume) for Satanic blessings, etc. I can’t remember any of the dialog at this point, but I do recall Anton telling us that what we said didn’t matter much, since everything was going to be translated into European languages for the “documentaries” the men were making.

Well, he was telling some of the truth for once. Parts of these films did indeed wind up in documentaries, such as “The Occult Experience,” but those parts were in English. These are the films that people in the Neopagan community see every couple of years or so, and which shock them so much — apparently they can’t see that I’m only seventeen in them, so they write me letters full of concern or denouncing me for my “betrayal” of Paganism. The foreign translations, however, were done for the bits that were spliced into pornographic movies sold in Europe. His so-called documentary film producers were actually pornographers, though the films I acted in were pretty tame. I don’t know about the “acting” other Church members might have done then or since, though I’m told that LaVey later earned his living for a few years in the European pornography industry.

To me it was all just another part of the adventure. I continued to listen admiringly to Anton’s tales, though I was somewhat shocked when he claimed that his huge library of occult books had been swindled from rich widows. I was more shocked when I realized that he had read only a tiny fraction of them, and that at seventeen I had read far more books on parapsychology, comparative religion and the occult than he had, despite his twenty years’ head start.

These events and insights did not take place in isolation, though. Like many other Berkeley students, I was gradually becoming a long-haired radical. This caused increasing friction between the rest of the Church and myself. My politics then were basically left wing/anarchist with a mild dash of Nietzsche. Anton’s politics, and those of most of the central members, seemed to be quite a bit more conservative. They’d quote Nietzsche or Hitler or Rand and tell me what it supposedly meant. Then I’d give them what I thought of as a more humanistic and intellectual interpretation. The overlap between our opinions became increasingly smaller and I became increasingly uneasy about my fellow Church members.

Some were bringing authentic Ku Klux Klan robes and Nazi uniforms for the ceremonies. I was assured that the clothes were merely for “Satanic shock value” to “jar people from their usual staid patterns of thinking.” Then I would talk to the men wearing these clothes and realize that they were not pretending anything. I noticed that there were no black members of the Church and only one Asian, and began to ask why.

Then I went away for the summer, living with my eldest brother in southern California and converting him to my brand of Satanism. Since he was an intellectual humanist, this wasn’t hard (he became Wiccan a couple of years later). We had an enjoyable summer, I made a few public appearances on behalf of the Church, then it was time to return to Berkeley.

Upon my return, I found that several of the members of the Church were coming to me for magical advice, instead of to their Glorious Leader. This was apparently the final straw for Anton. It was early in October, shortly after my 18th birthday, that I was called aside for a talk by one of the “Inner Circle” members (one of the pornographers), about my “obnoxious and deviationist tendencies.” I had previously been told about “odd” accidents and arrests that had occurred to others who were purged from the Church, so I tried to be as conciliatory as possible. But crewcut right wingers never have brought out the best in me, so I probably wasn’t very convincing. A week later, after the services, I was ordered to go downstairs to the “orgy room.”

When I arrived in the sanctum unsanctorium, I found thirteen people in black hooded robes sitting around a coffin-table. I was told to stand with my heels against the side of a mattress that was on the floor, with my head directly under a strong light. They then began to berate me for my deviationist thinking. The whole inquisition would have been a lot more impressive except for two factors: firstly, I recognized most of the voices as being those of the same flakes, weirdos and losers I had been meeting all along as members of the headquarters crew. Secondly, I had just finished reading a book on brainwashing techniques — the same methods that were now being used on me to force a “confession and retraction” of my “erroneous ways.” My immediate impulse to laugh was stifled, however, by the fact that I was surrounded and out-numbered by several large men, whose voices were getting increasingly loud and fanatic, and my memories of the supposed Mafia and police connections Anton had.

The smart thing to do was convince them that I was small fry and not worth arranging a fatal accident for. I proceeded to faint back on the mattress. Ignoring the fact that I had repeatedly informed them of my activities as a drama club member in high school, they all laughed and hauled me upstairs. Five minutes later I “revived” and left in a very subdued mood.

A couple of weeks later I sent Anton a suitably wimpy resignation letter, offering to refrain from all public comment about the Church and to return the public address system to the man who had provided it to me (something that never happened, though I waited two years, because members had been forbidden to communicate with me — although several later did).

I went back to my previous ways, continuing for two more years the fascinating game of evangelist-baiting. Several other religious and magical groups recruited me and then kicked me out for heresy. Gradually, I became used to the idea that there were damned few groups around who wanted independent thinkers, and that most of the organizations I infiltrated or joined (from even before I came to Berkeley) were likely to kick me out the second I started deviating from their party line. Fortunately, I discovered the Reformed Druids of North America shortly after being purged from LaVey’s Church, and those tree-hugging Zen anarchists were just what the Goddess ordered. I’ve been a Druid and a Pagan ever since.

I’m still amused more than angered by the cyclical attacks against me in the Pagan press and now on the Net. I’m not sure that my foolishness as a teenager is particularly relevant to my present character, opinions and activities, any more than the foolishness of many other famous Pagans during their adolescence. Shall we all investigate what Starhawk, Selena Fox, Ray Buckland, Oberon and Morning Glory Zell were doing when they were seventeen? For that matter, what were LaVey, Aquino, and Flowers/Thorsson doing during their teenaged years? (Pagan computer hackers take note, this could be an entertaining research project.)

I’m perfectly happy now, as I was then, to admit that I was stupid to get involved with LaVey and his Church, and even more stupid to reveal my precocious knowledge of the occult and to advise members of the group behind the guru’s back.

Yet any magically- or mystically-oriented person must be willing to accept that if they experiment or engage in adventures, they are liable to be made a fool of, be ripped-off or have their reputation smeared by those who belong to or sympathize with the Power Elite. I was curious about LaVey and his group and let them recruit me. I find it difficult to be sorry, although LaVey expected me to be, that no new members were brought into the ranks by my efforts — after all, my chief aim had been to torment and fight evangelists and fascists, not to help them.

I said back in 1974 that people desperate to smear me would inevitably bring up those months with LaVey, for lack of anything better to use, and that prophesy has come true several times. The (re-)publishing of The Enemies of our Enemies, however, brings them out of the woodwork every time. Michael Aquino, the neo-nazi head of the Temple of Set, has been especially active in spreading carefully crafted lies (he’s a career military intelligence officer, after all) about my time with LaVey. His professionally written disinformation is precisely targeted to make feminists, civil libertarians and Neopagans disgusted with me, especially if they are unfamiliar with propaganda techniques. Various other Satanic crackpots, some of whom were denouncing me many years ago, join in with equally ludicrous accusations and sophomoric insults.

The primary claim these folks are making (other than the traditional one most my critics use: “Isaac is a terrible person, don’t listen to him”) is that every one of my opinions about past and current Satanism has supposedly been warped by my “bitter experience” with the Church of Satan when I was seventeen. To this very day, I am supposed to be horribly ashamed of having been purged by them, and using any excuse to attack these innocent philosophers. All of which ignores some glaringly obvious facts.

(1) I’ve been kicked out of lots of occult groups over the years. I haven’t spent much of my time denouncing entire theological movements related to them, because most of them weren’t very representative. Anton, however, along with Montague Summers and Adolph Hitler, was a seminal figure in the modern Satanic movement, as even his enemies and competitors (such as Aquino) cheerfully admit. So LaVey provides one excellent example of just how shallow, patriarchal and fraudulent Satanism is.

(2) As I’ve said before, you can’t be in the occult community for six months, let alone thirty years, without meeting a wide spectrum of Satanists, Setians, Luciferians, Gnostic Dualists, Chthulians, and other proud upholders of the so-called “Left Hand Path.” I’ve met scores of Satanists, “black magicians” and other idiots trying hard to impress me with how philosophical, evil, and/or dangerous they were. After a while, the shallowness of their thinking and the repetitiveness of their dysfunctional personalities becomes stunning in its cliche-ridden banality.

(3) I’m a professional occultist and a scholar of minority belief systems. I’ve read plenty of Satanic/Setian literature and found none of it plausible. I’ve studied the historical record of how the Roman Catholic Church invented modern Satanism. I’ve read the work of genuine authorities and found their academic analyses far more convincing than the self-serving clap-trap produced by folks trying to make big bucks out of conning the rubes.

My knowledge of Setanists and Setanism is observational, historical, philosophical, and extensive. Thus, my comments in “The Enemies of Our Enemies” that Satanists and their ilk tend to be “fascists, jerks and/or psychopaths” who don’t care a fig for anyone’s civil liberties except their own, is accurate, historically sound, and rather mild.

Anyone who bothers to read the trash that LaVey writes (or rather that he puts his name on — he bragged to me about how he had gotten various members of the Church to write the different chapters of his first two books for him) will notice certain familiar attitudes permeating the contents. His version of Satanism, like the Christian mythology it is a part of, is racist and sexist. His right wing nonsense is part and parcel of the patriarchal worldview that Goddess worshippers and Neopagans abhor. If Adolf Hitler had decided to publicize his occult beliefs, they would have wound up sounding much like LaVey’s (or Michael Aquino’s) writings — though with dashes of libertarianism thrown in to make it sound oriented towards individuals.

The “philosophy of Satanism” is deliberately designed to appeal to the KKK or American Nazi Party type of mind: all those ignorant embittered failures who are convinced that “there’s a conspiracy” to keep them from their rightful places as rulers of the world. Even the Satanists who consider themselves “pre-Christian Gnostic Dualists” still accept the same patriarchal worldview that lies(!) behind Christianity, dividing the universe into warring armies of Good and Evil.

Members of the Neopagan community have some fairly simple choices about how to react to disinformation campaigns against me:

They can read my writings on the topics of Satanism/Setianism, Neopaganism and civil liberties, and analyze my arguments to see if they make sense regardless of any biases I might or might not have.

They can decide that a man who has spent his entire adult life as a priest of the Earth Mother may be a more reliable source of information than people who glorify the Christian “Father of Lies,” and reject poison pen letters/newsgroup posts as self-serving Setanic propaganda.

They can decide to believe the worst possible stories about me because I’m a pompous, cantankerous grouch and they would like to see me taken down a peg, regardless of whether the tales are true.

They can choose to ignore the whole controversy as requiring too much mental effort to bother with.

These last two choices may or may not lead to

5. cozying up to the Setanists, joining with them in legal and public relations work, helping to improve their public image and confirming mainstream fears that Satanists and Pagans really are the same after all — thus playing directly into the hands of the people who would like to imprison and/or kill us.

No matter what decisions the members of the community may make, I hope that they will respond in writing to the various Neopagan publications, newsgroups, and chatrooms in which the Setanists usually dominate this discussion. Defending or attacking Isaac Bonewits isn’t anywhere near as important as creating a consensus among Pagans as to what relations — if any — we should have with Satanists and other fundamentalist Christians. That requires strong Pagan positions to be articulated, Pagan arguments to be carefully scrutinized in the light of Pagan polytheology, and Pagan hearts to be looked deeply into.

We don’t let Pat Robertson or Jerry Falwell dominate our internal community debates. We shouldn’t let other Christian outsiders do so either.

The [preceding] was first published in 1975 c.e. in response to a number of vitriolic attacks against me by various Satanists. In 1992, I [Isaac Bonewits] was once again the target of a Satanic poison pen campaign, caused by the publishing of my essay The Enemies of Our Enemies (which should be read in conjunction with this). In 1996, I decided to update this essay and to make it available once again to the Neopagan community. Now, it’s 2001, we’re on the Net, and I continue to get nasty mail from Satanists/Setanists, only now it’s obscene email!

By the way, for those who never caught the reference, this essay’s title was a take-off on a famous essay by Israel Regardie, called “My Rosicrucian Adventure.”

[d3adendssinmymind]

God’s At The Door

For @deathnotetober

Day 23: Original Character 

God has come to you with a mission, and he’s brought with him the gift of death. Will you accept?

Written in second person for shits and giggles. Gender-neutral because fuk gender. 

-

It was just a regular, boring, hum drum day at school again. Just another day where teachers read off information in a voice that sounded like they’d rather be dead, and just another day of girls gossiping about themselves and boys they’d like to shag, another day of boys hollering and whooping and another day in which the lunch lady served you sausage pizza when you’d clearly said cheese.

All in all, just a very boring day that had become the norm. There was nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that you should be yearning for or expecting.....

But that was a mistake. Upon returning back to your lovely suburban home that quite literally had a picket fence, you let your two dogs out in your backyard to frolic amongst the daffodils and dig up bones.  

You heard a thud by your left ear, something landing in the too tall grass. You set your textbook down in your lawn chair, glaring at the house next door. The two neighbor children were so irritating, always throwing balls and dolls and whatever toys they could over into your yard.

But as you made your way down the rickety wood stairs of your deck, frowning at a mosquito that buzzed around your bare legs, you suddenly became quite confused.

A book was sprawled before your feet, open face down on the grass, and the gothic letters on the front spelled out something in a language you were not at all familiar with. They looked old, and ancient.  

Picking up the book gingerly as if it was a wounded baby bird you were afraid to injure, your eyes rooved over the words inside which were written in English, a language you understood from your years of taking a mandatory foreign language and watching The Simpsons without the subtitles.  

‘The person whose name is written inside this note shall die.’

You laughed, a breathless sound that sounded more like a gasp for air out in the sea. Your fingers traced the white, inconspicuous lines of the page. This was just a composition notebook, just like the one you had sitting worthlessly in your book bag. This thing smelt like sand and was actually somewhat heavy but-

A notebook of death?

Please. You were seventeen, not seven, and on the honor roll. This wasn’t a horror movie and you weren’t an air-headed side character waiting to be butchered.

This was....

This was ridiculous.

Insane.

Childish.

It was funny not because of these morbid ‘rules’, which went as far to specify how you could kill someone with detailed instructions, but because someone had even had the brains to think something this disturbing up. Another trick from the neighborhood kids, obviously.

You rolled your eyes, it would be funny to write down a name in the notebook to make those kids think their prank had been successful, maybe even your algebra teacher who stared you down for a moment longer than appropriate, but you didn’t have a pen lying around anyway. It’d be best to put this back where it came from.  

“Please stop throwing things over.” The request would probably be unheeded, but you muttered it anyway as you shoved it over the opposite fence. From what you could see through the cracks, there were no small eyes watching you back but you were sure they’d find it eventually....

And that was that.

Until, after you had sat back down and buried your nose back into your book, you heard the thud yet again. Snapping your head up, you glared at the blasted book which had somehow been thrown into the exact same place it had been last time.

What were these tricksters getting at?

The first time it had been tiredly amusing, but now it was just plain old annoying. It was really grating on your nerves.

You stood up with a stomp in your step, ignoring your pups' whimpers behind your back as you stomped over.  

“Do I have to call your parents?” You shouted, sending the book flying high over the fence with the aggression of a football player on steroids. “Stop throwing books into my yard!”

You turned on your heel, bumping into a sudden broad form on your way back to your house.

“Why do you keep throwing your Death Note away?”

You looked up slowly, craning your neck as your eyes filled with a horrible vision, and a stone of cold lead sank deep inside of your stomach. Paralyzed besides for your vocal chords, they were ripped apart by a terrified yowl born of true fear.  

This person, no, not a person, this thing hulking above you was at least eight feet tall, if not nine and a half. It could have been mistaken for a bum on drugs with its tattered clothes if you didn’t live in one of the most prestigious and prissy middle class gates neighborhoods in town.  

Oh, and there was the fact that for a face it had a bare, sun-bleached skull.  

It didn’t have eyes, you couldn’t see any, but the fathomless dark pits in its eye sockets seemed to look straight through you. And they twinkled with mischief.  

You screamed again, stumbling backwards until your back ran into the fence and sharp spines dug into your spine.  

“Watch it.” The thing growled, shaking it’s head-skull. “Stop screaming or you’ll alert someone, and I don’t think you want that.”

You clapped your hand over your mouth, unwittingly obeying this monster. Your breaths were muffled, but ragged and manic.  

“You’re the only one who can see me, you know.” It continued. “You touched the Death Note, and that is the bond between shinigami and human.”

Your sense were slowly trickling back into you, but you still wanted to refute this creatures words.

“Shinigami? As in...a God of Death?”

The shinigami smiled, its sharp fangs glinting in the white sunlight.  

“I screamed when I first saw one to, don’t worry.” It offered, and in the blink of an eyes it had swooped over the fence and returned with the notebook held close to its chest. Your stomach was doing flip flops and your heart was racing, but you knew somehow you had no chance of running.

You were a part of something now, something you couldn’t just shake away and forget.  

A God had come to you, after all, and when Gods came to visit lowly mortals, they were expected to shut up and listen.  

It looked like this god had brought you a gift.

That meant the Death Note was real, it was realer than perhaps you yourself were. It was a killing weapon that looked like notes for school. You were meant to have something that if found by people bigger and more important than you, could cause mass hysteria and nothing short of an apocalypse.  

The only question now, was why?  

You took the offered notebook, your fingers brushing over the shinigami’s boney claws, and your knees shook even though you squared your shoulder and met eyes with God.  

You saw beads of red deep within those eye sockets. A trick of the light?  

A chill ran up your spine, curving up the knobby bones and shooting straight into your heart.  

You felt as if literal sparkles had been injected straight into your bloodstream.

Had it gotten dark, or...

No, the shinigami’s shadow enveloped you both. In a shroud, a shield.

A hug.  

“Who are you?”

“My human name was Light, though, I’m sure you know me by my given name, Kira. I’ve been watching you for a while, and I think you’re the perfect person to start over from where I left off. Come, and let’s make a New World together.”

[itskatastrophe-x]

Unhealthy Competition (CH2) c!Punz x Reader

CW // Swearing, blood mentions, fighting

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2

Word Count : 2,775

^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^

You went off the grid. For two whole months. Your emergency cabin served you well. It was miles away from any kind of civilization, with a modest farm and garden in the back, as well as flowers surrounding it out front. You made sure to stay away from anything near the SMP and kept quiet. The few times you did go into town, you heard questions of where you went and where you were. Some had even claimed that Punz had killed you successfully. If you had to guess, it was Punz telling people that. Honestly, that was fine with you. Sure, it gave him just another thing to brag about, but he was still without his precious gold chain and had failed to kill you. That, and, you wanted to stay far away from him. All the time alone gave you time to think about how you had actually grown to appreciate him and formed some kind of twisted love for him. It was best that you didn’t see him again. 

But fate had a funny way of destroying hopes. You didn’t know how it happened, but he had shown up on your property two months after the meeting in the tunnels deep underground. You had caught a glimpse of him through your curtains in your room on the second floor, his blonde hair messy and reflecting the sunlight perfectly. He stood at the gate, about thirty feet from your porch, that surrounded the front portion of your property, the yard that housed some of your favorite flowers. Your heart skipped a beat as you stood there, watching him walk through the small forest of flowers you had tended to every morning, dew still covering them in the early hour. You glanced over at the chain on your bedside table and snatched it up and shoved it into your worn leather jacket’s pocket as you silently made your way to the hallway that lead downstairs. You creeped to the back door and snuck out silently, not bothering to close the door fully as you walked into the trees, climbing one effortlessly. You had taken notes from Purpled and became just as stealthy as him, learning how to melt into the shadows and move without making a sound. 

You moved from tree to tree until Punz was just in sight of you, but you knew you were out of sight of him. He ran his fingers along some of the bushes of flowers, only pausing before his fingers could land on a bush of wither roses. He looked up at the treeline, sensing eyes on him, but looking away and to the light blue door that led to your house. He made his way to it and knocked a few times, peering in the small window eye height for him. When he didn’t get an answer, he tried the knob, which, unluckily for you, was unlocked. You unconsciously took a deep breath, earning a glance from the tall man as he was halfway in the house already. He squinted, yelling out a ‘hello’, but getting no response. He slowly turned back to the house and entered. You mentally slapped yourself for being so stupid as to leave your home unlocked, knowing full well that’s how you could get killed. The only thing you were glad about was the fact that you had grabbed the chain… 

Your hand reached into the pocket holding the chain but was met with fabric, lacking the smooth surface of gold. Your heart rate sped up rapidly as you retraced your steps through the trees, hoping to see it somewhere caught on a branch or on the ground below you. Nothing caught your eye until you got to the last tree, where you spotted it hanging on the picket fence that you had jumped to get out of your yard. You scanned your house for movement, seeing a flash of color on the second floor passing a window. You guessed you had about a minute to grab the chain and run back to the tree line, so you held your breath and jumped to make a run for it. Just as you reached for the golden medallion an arrow lodged itself in the wood in the middle of it, making you retract your hand before it could hit you. It dripped with the effects of a potion, so you knew you were fucked if any of his arrows touched you. You heard a snort from above you and you looked up to see him standing on your roof, already in a fighting stance with his crossbow in one hand and his axe in the other. 

“How did you find me?” He smirked at you, sliding down the shingles and off onto the fence smoothly. Once he was on solid ground, he walked to you, the fence being the only thing keeping the two of you apart. Now, up close, you could see him more clearly. His hair had grown just a bit, enough to be fluffy. He had gained a bit of muscle as well as some facial stubble. He practically towered over you in height and build. You huffed and leaned against the fence, resting your chin against the palm of your hand, looking up at him with puppy eyes. “Why did you have to ruin my little paradise? It was so relaxing and beautiful before you showed up.” He chuckled and put his crossbow back in the holder on his hip, keeping his axe secure in his right hand as he grabbed for his chain with his free hand. You were swift in smacking his hand away, but he persisted. “You really think you can stop me here,” he said more as a statement rather than a question. “Oh absolutely,” you say through a smirk. You both stand there staring at each other for a moment, his piercing blue eyes held a playful glint that you couldn’t help but give into. 

In an instant you had your trident out of your inventory, a fire igniting in your chest as you thrust it towards the man, pinning his axe to his chest and pushing with everything you had. He held his form perfectly without falter and laughed at you at your pathetic attempt to overpower him. You pull out a potion from your pocket with your free hand and chug it, feeling the liquid sting your throat all the way down, the effects kicking in quickly to give you some extra strength. You knew you wouldn’t be able to overpower him without a potion so you had prepared multiple in case of a moment like this. Pushing against him now, he had to dig his heels into the dirt below him. His eyes went wide, now struggling to keep his poor balance. “Come on now, pretty boy. Make a move,” you say in a taunting tone, his face turning a slight shade of pink. He regains himself and smirks down at you, a look in his eye you can’t quite pinpoint. “Pretty boy?”

With that you were off, exchanging blows and clashes through the farmyard. After a couple minutes of back and forth drawing blood from each other, you took note of his movements. Every step he took was calculated so you wouldn’t touch any of your work as you practically danced around the crops. It wasn’t until you had him pinned against a tree, the prongs of your trident sunk deep into the wood behind him, trapping him between the prongs. His axe was against your throat, bringing back memories of the night of the tunnel. You were both bleeding and sweaty as you stood there, panting to catch your breaths. He smelled like fresh lavender and sandalwood. You could smell this forever. Your face heated up and you mentally smacked yourself for being so attracted to him. You knew being around him would make this happen. He took note of your red cheeks and scoffed, making you turn red even more. “Nervous, princess,” he taunted. “Oh fuck off you cocky bastard,” you retort.

He lands a knee to your stomach, making you lose your grip on your trident and allowing him to slip free and duck out from in between the prongs. He stayed ducked down, bringing his shoulder into you and picking you up with ease. The lack of air in combination with now being thrown over a shoulder and slightly upside down made you dizzy, a white fog forming at the corners of your vision. You punched at his back the best you could, yelling obscenities at him, causing him to laugh. He walked to the fence and reached for his chain and you kicked his arm to kick his hand just a few inches too far out of reach. You wiggled and thrashed so he had to drop his axe to hold onto you with both arms. “Just give it up already,” annoyance now lacing his tone. “In your dreams,” you spit. “I made it this far, why give up now?” You bring your foot into his stomach and kicked multiple times. You feel his grip on you loosen just enough to combine with the sweat to wiggle out of his grasp and land roughly on the balls of your feet and grab the chain. 

You smile at him and back up a couple feet and dangle to chain in front of you, then put it on. “Why does this mean so much to you, anyway?” He’s leaning over with an arm on his stomach, trying to catch his breath and looking up at you with one eye closed, looking through his lashes with his other eye and a grimace on his face. “It was a gift,” he says through breaths. “Why do you care?” You shrug and toy with the thing in your hands, looking down at the surface reflecting your dirty face back at you. “I don’t. I just thought it would be fun to mess with you.” You look back up at him just as he stands straight and stretches his back, groaning in the process. “Why mess with me?” You watch him as he brings his eyes to meet yours. You feel awkward under his gaze, not being able to think of a reason, so you stay quiet. You hear him chuckle as his eyes land on the chain, now hanging from your neck.

“It looks better on you anyway.” 

Your face flushes even more. You watch his eyes go wide, his cheeks turning the same shade as yours. “No way I just said that out loud.” You both stand there as the sun starts to get lower in the sky, neither one too flustered to make a move. You’re the first one to say anything as you move to take it off. “You can have it back. I’ve had my fun.” You toss it to him, him still too stunned to catch it properly, it just barely grazing his fingers as you turn on your heels to walk into the house. “Wait wait wait,” he calls after you as he picks up the gold and runs to you. Before you can shut the door fully, he slams his axe between the door and doorframe, refusing to let it shut. “Please, I didn’t mean to say that out loud. Oh god this is so awkward.” He says the last part under his breath, just barely audible to you, now pushing your full weight against the door, the potion finally wearing off. The door was being pushed open more and more as the last of your strength left you. With one final push, Punz knocked you off of the door, sending you tumbling to the hardwood. 

Before you could fall face first, though, Punz grabbed your arm and flipped you so he could grab your other arm and bring you back to a standing position. The world spun in front of you and you could barely hear Punz as he half carried you to the living room and ran back to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. He flipped through his inventory and brought out a swirling pink potion and helped you drink that, as well as the cool bottle of water after to wash it all down. It didn’t take long to feel the effects of the healing potion, and soon you were totally fine again. His words still held you in a cloudy haze, though. You didn’t want him helping you or looking at you with those worried eyes. You were in the same room with the man you were supposed to hate. The one you fought so many times with to take a kill. Your #1 competition on the leaderboard. Why was he looking at you that way? You couldn’t help but stare back, seeing his lips move but not hearing anything. 

He was about to get up and leave, turning on his knee to stand, when your hand shot out and grabbed at his wrist, the tips of your fingers just barely missing the sleeve of his hoodie. The touch was just enough for him to stop and turn back around, his eyebrows still pulled to the center in concern. You sat up, a bit too fast, and the world spun for a second. You were in reach of him now and grabbed his arm to ground yourself and he turned back to you, clasping the arm that held his with one hand and bringing the other to hold your upper arm on the other side, steadying you. You looked into his eyes, watching him go soft under your gaze. “Say it again.” Your voice was soft and wavering with anxiety, worried you would scare him off. He looked puzzled for a second, then turned red. “Wh-what? Say what?” He cleared his throat and looked away, towards the front door. You brought your hand slowly and carefully to his cheek and he flinched away for a moment before allowing your hand to cup his face. “You mean it?” His eyes shift back to you as he gives you a shit-eating grin, his confidence coming back in full force, giving you whiplash. “Is that what this is about? Oh no, don’t tell me you’ve fallen for me.” Your face heats up and you retract your hand to punch his arm as hard as possible. “Shut the fuck up you cocky bastard.” He laughs, falling back on his ass and holding his stomach as you stand there and stare at how he looked when he laughed. 

He calmed down, his laughter mellowing out into sighs and him wiping his eyes from the tears from laughing at his own stupidity and your face. When he looked back up to meet your eyes, he was met with the most starstruck look someone had ever given him. Your face heated up more but you refused to stop watching him. Here he was, a laughing mess in your living room, not trying to kill you. How it happened, you won’t understand, but all you wanted right now was to feel his skin against yours and to hear his laughter every day. So you slid off of the couch to fall into him, draping your arms over his shoulders and closing your eyes to breathe him in, not caring if he pushed you off or cussed at you. But instead, his arms slowly made their way around your waist, guiding you to sit in his lap, making sure to not disturb your chin that now rested on his shoulder. He relaxed and let out a soft sigh, smiling to himself as his heart rate slowed and you both relaxed, not wanting to move another inch. 

This was bliss. This was comfort. Life was strange as you lived your lives together, still competing over kills, just, this time, making sure not to kill one another. You shared a mutual trust with each other as you went on separate missions, or sometimes together when the mission was a bigger one that required both of your skill sets. You both spent your time tending to your own hobbies while at home, comfortable just existing together in harmony, finally not at each other's throats on sight. After the night of making up, he profusely apologized for burning down your forest and house at the other base, which you dismissed, explaining that this was a much better cabin, though now you spent more time travelling with him or taking care of your plants. You didn’t care where you were anymore, so long as he was by your side.

[maggiec70]

Prince Bagration Makes a Cameo Appearance

Another excerpt from the longest-running histfic draft. This is for Tairin. I hope I did her prince justice, small though it may be.

Jean’s staff found a two-story house large enough for them all in a northern Viennese suburb. General Compans ordered the portly, red-faced owner and his large family to leave, slipping him a fistful of gold coins before he could protest. Mariana couldn’t tell how many coins constituted a fistful, but they produced an incredulous expression on the man’s face and then a deep bow that revealed his blindingly bald, pink pate. There must be a secret source of gold coins that only Compans and Thomières knew about, perhaps hidden away in a sturdy oak box labeled Bribes. She had seen these coins appear whenever Jean wanted to sleep somewhere other than a barn or outside on the ground for several days. She also knew only a very few marshals and generals bothered to compensate the people whose lives they disrupted or even thought to do so.

“Don’t wreck the place,” Compans ordered them after the Viennese family had bustled out the door, their personal belongings tied up in large, unwieldy bundles.

“Why would we?” she asked Joseph as two adjutants added more wood to a fire in the large stone hearth. She wondered how much food she might find in the kitchen cupboards and the spacious pantry leading from the kitchen. Indeed, the life expectancy of the well-fed hens she’d seen in the dooryard was measured in minutes.

“It was a pro forma reminder,” Joseph replied. “We’ve never been a horde of Vandals or Huns, and the marshal knows it.” He grinned at her and stretched so much that he almost slid out of his chair. “I can’t say the same about Prince Murat’s cavalry or anyone in Marshal Augereau’s VII Corps. Now there’s a collection of seasoned plunderers—as bad as one of the plagues of Egypt, but not, I think, as dedicated to looting as Marshal Masséna.”

Later that evening, with a cold November wind safely outside and warmth and food inside, she sipped her second cup of rich coffee laced with cream from the black and white cow standing up to her knees in hay in the barn. “After ages in Purgatory, I’ve been given my reward.”

“Savor your taste of Paradise, Gabriel, while you can. We’re leaving in a couple of days,” Jacques said, unhooking his cloak and shaking sleet from it.

“Why? The Austrians surrendered at Ulm almost four weeks ago, and we’re north of Vienna with no Austrians anywhere that I can see. There isn’t anyone to fight.”

Jacques poured coffee from a porcelain pot and backed up to the fire. “Don’t you read the dispatches, Gabriel?”

“Not often—they’re boring.”

“Well, you should. We hadn’t seen the Austrian army because it left Vienna right before we arrived. Now they’ve gone further north, with General Kutuzov’s Russians.”

“Who’s Kutuzov?” she asked, trying not to yawn in his face. She really should pay more attention to the dispatches and reports. If Jean ever asked her about the campaign's minutia, she had better know enough to answer. She’d seen what happened when an officer couldn’t tell Jean what he wanted to know and didn’t want to subject herself to the humiliation of a profanity-laced public rebuke.

“Some clever Russian general, older than God. He’s heading for Moravia, though, not Mother Russia.”

Mariana remembered Jacques’s words three days later. Ejected from the warm stone house before dawn, she bundled up in her heavy cloak and gloves and rode out of Vienna with the rest of V Corps. Now, close to midnight, she didn’t think Moravia was anywhere close or warmer than Russia. It was full dark when they rode into a tiny hamlet so small they would have missed it if the scouts and leading edges of Oudinot’s grenadiers hadn’t literally stumbled over it. Snow topped with a thin layer of rime covered the cottage roofs, garden walls, the rough pathway serving as a street, and stubble in the surrounding fields. The inhabitants had shuttered every window, but thin cracks of pale yellow light escaped from some of them.

“They’re more afraid of the Russians than they are of us,” Jean said in response to her question. Each word came out on a small puff of white, as her own had done. Soon it might be too cold to talk. “If you looked in those barns, you’d find nothing but old straw. There’s nothing of value in the cottages, either. If the villagers had enough warning, they would have hidden everything, and if not, the Russians have it all now.”

Mariana had never seen a hamlet this small before or so eerily deserted. The barrenness she saw in the faint snow light and that Jean had described made her shiver. This time the cold struck deep in her bones.

“We’ll be sleeping outside, gentlemen, on the other side of Hollabrünn and eating whatever we have with us. It will be a short night anyway—the enemy’s less than six miles ahead.” Jean spurred his horse forward over the little village track, and the rest followed, riding close enough to brush each other’s stirrups. Mariana wrapped the reins around one wrist and massaged her hands and fingers inside her gloves, afraid to take them off. The idea of trying to sleep on the frozen, iron-hard ground was dreadful. If the Russians were so close, and if Jean meant to attack them in the morning, she might as well sit up all night. If she didn’t freeze before dawn, then a brisk encounter with the enemy, even hand to hand, would warm her up nicely. “Aunt Lucrezia, you would be appalled,” she whispered through stiff lips cracked and bleeding from the cold.

Despite her plan to sit up all night, Mariana had just fallen asleep, curled into a tight ball, knees drawn up nearly beneath her chin, when Joseph shook her into befuddled wakefulness. “Get up, Gabriel,” he said, peeling her cloak away. We’re leaving now.”

She staggered to her feet, grabbed her cloak back from Joseph, and buttoned it up tight. “No breakfast?”

“No time for any. There’s a small Russian rear-guard ahead. We have to eliminate it before it reaches Kutuzov.”

Mariana didn’t mind not eating as much as she minded not having something hot to drink. However, the worst prospect was having to do the necessary at the edge of the forest to her left. She still thought it was manifestly unfair that lately, she nearly froze whenever she pissed, while her comrades did not. An inequality, however, that she was powerless to alter one whit.

Having concluded her business in the forest, she hurried to untie Odysseus from the picket line, tighten his girth, and climb into the saddle. She trotted off to join the aides, who waited in a nearly silent group, close together, their horses impatiently stamping the hard ground. Without a word, they swung around and fell in behind Jean and General Compans. She wanted to know how far away the Russian rear-guard was and how many Russians comprised a rear-guard, but she couldn’t make her lips move.

General Thomières saved her the trouble. “Excellency, how many troops does Bagration have ahead of us?”

While she wondered who Bagration was, Jean slowed his horse to respond to his senior aide. “Fewer than I have, even though I’m short two divisions and even shorter of supplies. Neither the weather nor the ground is good for much but a short skirmish.”

The air was so silent and frigid that Mariana heard the intonation beneath his words that often meant more than the words themselves. He sounded confident rather than cocky or foolhardy. A short skirmish, he’d said, and that was fine with her.

The encounter between Bagration’s rear-guard and V Corps’ grenadiers, reinforced at the last possible moment by a squadron of Murat’s heavy cavalry, was not a skirmish. Mariana thought it was more like a brawl in some wayside tavern, loud, fast, and disorganized. It ended before she’d had a chance to do anything and because Bagration told Prince Murat that he had just learned about a truce. The prince believed him, dismounted, told Jean to order his troops to cease fire, and went inside a slightly shell-shocked villa that had been some Moravian aristocrat’s summer home.

“A truce? What the fuck is he talking about? I had the damn Russians on their arses, and he rides in and orders me to stop!” Jean was livid, his expression as hard as granite. Mariana worried what he might do when he jumped from his horse, leaving the reins to trail in the snow, and stomped after Murat. Acting on instinct, aides, chief of staff, and a few senior adjutants closed around him like a protective wall and entered the villa together.

Intended for soft summer breezes, the villa struggled to combat the mid-November cold. Fires burned in hearths at either end of the reception chamber’s black and white tiled floor. Clear glass bottles filled with colorless liquid stood among scores of crystal glasses on heavily carved tables in the center of the room. Someone had shoved chairs and settees against the walls. Officers in uniforms Mariana had never seen before crowded around the tables, opening bottles, pouring liquid into glasses, and handing them around. She watched Prince Murat take a sip, then drain it and hold it out for someone to fill. She watched Jean barrel forward, his expression still thunderous, until a tall officer with the face of a young eagle and enough medals on his chest to blind half a dozen men stepped forward and intercepted him. Together they moved away from Murat and his entourage and stood by one of the double windows, heads bent close together, talking. Another officer approached them, two glasses on a silver tray, and quickly left when they took the glasses and continued their conversation. When Major Guéhéneuc tried to insinuate himself into the conversation, Jean turned on him like an enraged wasp. The major scuttled away, staring at the floor, his face scarlet. Mariana rocked back on her boot heels, a smirk spreading across her face.

As voices rose around her, followed by the rank odor of damp wool and unwashed males, Mariana felt the beginnings of a headache. To take her mind off it, she asked Thomières, “What are they talking about? And who is that Russian?”

He laughed, a soft sound but not derisive. She was glad since she rarely spoke to him at length. “I haven’t the slightest idea what they’re talking about, but that’s Prince Pyotr Ivanovich Bagration the marshal’s talking to.” He laughed again, this time even softer as if he worried someone might overhear. “Talking now, fighting later. Fine looking general, though, don’t you think?”

“Indeed he is,” Mariana said. With his chiseled features and thick, dark hair, the tall, slender Russian looked a little like Jean. Big rooster and bantam rooster, she thought, and almost hooted with laughter. When she could trust herself to speak, she asked, “What’s in the bottles?”

“Vodka. Have you never tasted it?”

“I’ve never even heard of it.”

“Then allow me, lieutenant,” Thomières said and escorted her to the nearest table. Rummaging among the glasses, he found two relatively clean ones and filled them from one of the bottles. “Salut,” he said, threw back his head, and drank it down.

She sniffed at the clear liquid. It had no odor. Since Thomières was still standing, how dangerous could it be? She drank hers in a single gulp, and the alcohol burned all the way to her stomach, where it exploded. Tears flooded her eyes, she sneezed and then coughed. One cough led to several until Thomières pounded her on the back and filled her glass.

“Quick—drink this.”

She did and stopped coughing. This time the vodka felt smooth as silk, and she grinned at the senior aide. “You should have warned me.”

“And miss your reaction?” He filled her glass for the third time, but before she could drink it, four Russian officers joined them at the table, clutching their glasses filled to the brim and sloshing onto their dingy white gloves. Their faces were clean-shaven except for amazingly full side-whiskers, their cheeks brick red in the candlelight. Raising their glasses, they shouted in unison, “Za vashe zdorovye!” When they had downed every last drop, they tossed their glasses toward the fireplace. The sound of shattering crystal brought to a halt every conversation in the spacious room, and then other Russians began throwing their empty glasses to the floor.

“Why not?” Thomières said and threw his glass toward the hearth.

“Indeed!” Mariana replied and threw hers, too.

Whatever Jean and Bagration may have been discussing, or whatever Prince Murat may have believed about the alleged truce, or whatever the French and Russian officers thought about the prospect of imminent hostilities between them, everything disappeared beneath the sharp-edged sound of crystal shattering and the roars of toasts in French and Russian. Mariana linked arms with Thomières to keep from reeling and tried to get her tongue around the consonant-laden Russian words. Somehow, they sounded more satisfactory than light, polite French phrases and better suited to the vodka, of which she had become quite fond in no time at all.

Jean summoned aides and staff officers with a sharp whistle that penetrated the merriment and stalked out of the villa and into the icy, starlit night. The sudden cold jolted Mariana from her torpor, and the sharp air stung her eyes and nose. Her comrades showed similar symptoms of waking from a muddled sleep, and she wondered what might have happened had they stayed and emptied all those bottles.

[mel-the-fangirl]

Wildest Dreams

Henry Cavill x Reader (inspired by the Taylor Swift song and music video)

Part Two: The Grand Illusion

Words: 2,418

Hey Cavillry! Sorry this took so long, I just have so many ideas and it’s not exactly the best idea to start them all at the same time, huh? Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this part, don’t forget to read part one! Also, side note, I finished Night Hunter and I reaaaaally enjoyed it, I think I’ll be writing a Walter fic in the near future??

fic taglist: @andromedasstarship​, @januarystears​, @inlovewithhisblueeyes​, @legendarywizarddetective, @summersong69​

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"Cut! Beautiful work!" your director, John, rose from his seat and turned to you, "Miss Producer, what do you say? Can we pack up and finally see our families?" 

"You know what, Johnny?" you surveyed the tired faces of the crew and smiled at them, "Let's go home." 

Hats were thrown into the air and cheers erupted throughout your crew. Months of ungodly call times and extremely close encounters with the savanna’s more untamed residents have finally come to an end.

“Before we go,” you stepped on top of a crate to address everyone, “I’d like to say a few words. Thank you to everyone who has been present throughout the past months…”

Henry watched you from afar, leaning on one of the transport vehicles with his arms crossed. It wasn’t a secret that the two of you had formed a relationship during your time there. Nights spent in each other’s rooms, hands in your hair, clothes strewn on the floor, whispered conversations about dreams unrealised.

It was dangerous, how much he felt for you. Just seeing you now, commanding the room with the kind of charisma and charm only you had, a pang settled in his heart. But he couldn’t dwell on it for long.

You squealed giddily and propelled yourself into Henry's strong arms. Never have you seen anyone look so ruggedly handsome in just a t-shirt and safari pants.

Your thumb caressed his stubbled cheek and pressed a tender kiss onto his lips, one that wasn't for the cameras.

They could write pages and pages of love songs based on the way he looked at you and that alone. You flourished underneath his loving gaze, feeling like you were walking on air.

"Go on and get dressed, darling. I've got one last surprise before we go home." he kissed you once more, winked, then returned to his trailer

Your cheeks were sufficiently flushed. Before we go home he said. 

Did he mean it that way? Surely he didn’t. It hadn’t even crossed your mind how things would be like when you returned to America, was it so terrible that you were imagining houses with white picket fences?

Goodness, this was nothing like you. You straightened your blouse and marched over to your own trailer, trying to shake it off.

A few outfit deliberations later, you settled on a lovely pale blue palazzo jumpsuit, a matching headscarf, your signature white oval-framed sunglasses which you made popular, as far as you were concerned, and vibrant red lipstick.

You met Henry in a clearing not too far away from where you were staying. 

"Well, well!" you marveled at the imposing aircraft in the middle of the field and you marveled even more intently at your handsome pilot,

"Just how did you manage this?"

He scooped you up in his arms and you decided that from then on, your favourite scent and view would be Henry in his leather aviator jacket. 

"Darling, I figure I can manage just about anything just as long as it's for you."

“You flatter me, Mr. Cavill.”

Henry stepped away from you, propped a foot up on the little lift and held a hand out for you to take, “Shall we, gorgeous?”

“We shall.” you took his hand and let him help you into your seat

“Ready?” Henry asked from his seat behind you, rubbing your shoulder with a gloved hand

You placed your hand on his and shot a thumbs up in the air, enthusiastic as ever.

“That’s my girl.” he chuckled, guiding the plane down the makeshift runway

Once safely in the air, you reveled in its warmth caressing your cheeks, the deafening roar of the engines downsized to a somewhat pleasant hum. Would it be inappropriate to shut your eyes for a bit? In an open plane a few hundred feet above ground?

“Y/N, down there! How marvelous!”

The sound of Henry’s voice snapped you back to the present and when you opened your eyes, your breath hitched in your throat.

You supposed flying was something you would never get used to. The clear sky was a shade of blue you couldn’t even begin to comprehend, the clouds were white and wispy and you longed to reach out your hand and feel them.

"Down there, Y/N!" Henry urged you again

Once you did as he said, you realised why.

Below you, racing across the vast, sun-drenched grass was a pack of lions. The joy you felt was indescribable, seeing these powerful creatures roaming free, untouched and undisturbed by human intervention.

"Incredible.” you breathed, looking back at Henry 

Once Henry had landed the plane, rather flawlessly, you'd say, a car was already waiting to bring you to the lodge where he had arranged for you to stay.

“I do admire an organised man.” you complimented breathily, batting your eyelashes at him for theatrics

“Alright, alright.”

His tone was dismissive but you were sure you could see the blush spreading on his cheeks. Henry bent down and swept you off your feet, carrying you bridal-style towards your ride.

"This is just glorious!" you took off your headscarf and shook your hair out as you waltzed around your suite

It was a stark contrast to the suites you usually took up residence in. Gone were the stuffy imitation French furniture and tacky wallpaper, in its place was rich, dark wood you were positive you wouldn't find anywhere else and a clean white canopy bed with cozy earthy neutral toned cushions, you thought everything was simply ethereal, but the cherry on top was undoubtedly the view from your balcony.

You stepped on, the gentle sunlight soaking into your bare feet and filling you with a kind of vigour and appetite for life completely different from the one you felt when you were doing your job. You surveyed the scenery ahead, rays of afternoon sunshine peeking through the tall branches of trees that resembled something from another world.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Henry’s deep voice materialised in your ear, his hands resting on your hips

“Absolutely.” you replied, twirling around to place your lips on his

Heat rose to your cheeks and further down south as your tongues met, quick and electric and delicious, then firmer, more determined. You broke away for a fraction of a second, taking it all in.

If there was anything your life has taught you thus far, it was the heavy handed importance of hard work and resilience, nothing else would get you very far. You didn’t believe in luck.

But as you stood there surrounded by all the beauty nature had to offer, Henry cradling your face with nothing short of devotion and admiration in his eyes, it was hard not to change your mind.

“Henry?”

“Yes?”

“I think I may be falling in love with you.”

He looked absolutely stunned and to be honest, you were as well. This was uncharted territory for you. The number of flirtations and affairs you’ve had throughout your time in Tinseltown was much more than the tabloids could even guess but they were just that and nothing more.

But with Henry?

Before you could even anxiously retract what you had just said in fear of rejection, Henry pulled you towards him and pressed his lips firmly to yours. Somehow, everything he had failed to say was imbued in each searing kiss, each squeeze on your hips.

Nothing much was said for the rest of the day and well into the night.

The morning after, you found yourselves on a nature hike. Having heard from locals of a magnificent waterfall nearby. The pair of you trekked your way through the rocky crest of the waterfall, your finish line was a series of boulders, each one stacked by increasing height. You wanted to get to the biggest one, you were positive the view was spectacular from up there. 

“Darling, are you sure you’d want to-”

“Oh, don’t be such a killjoy, Henry!” you yelled, slipping away from his grasp and vaulting over a rock

“Be careful, Y/N, Jesus!” he yelped, nearly losing his balance

Your laughter cascaded down with the rushing water. You ignored how your muscles were beginning to strain with the effort of climbing each boulder as carefully as you could but you got the job done, overlooking the glittering water below and the surrounding wildlife.

“God, this place is beautiful.” you marveled just as Henry finally joined you at the top

“How in God’s name did you get up here so fast?” Henry panted, placing his hands on his knees in an effort to catch his breath

“Well, maybe all of those muscles are purely for decoration.” you commented, unashamedly appreciating his physique as he glistened with sweat

He arched his brow at you, seemingly perfecting your trademark move. “Oh, is that so?”

You squealed as he hoisted you into his arms, then in a display of strength, lifted you over his shoulder.

“Purely for decoration, eh?” he laughed, descending from the boulder with you still draped over his shoulder

"Put me down this instant!" you chortled, all arms and legs as he waded deeper into the warm water

"Sorry, what was that? I can't hear you." 

"I said, put me down!" you firmly clamped your teeth down on a portion of his back

"Ow! Okay, okay. Hold on."

Henry set you down in the water gently, keeping his hand on your hips, looking at you mirthfully.

"Madame Y/L/N," he tutted, shaking his head, "Did you just bite me? Not very ladylike one would say." 

"Oh, boo hoo." you stuck your tongue out at him

“Getting cheeky are we?” Henry lunged at you, causing water to splash everywhere

You dodged just in time, appearing behind him and lifting yourself onto his back. He secured your legs and began to run as fast as the water would let him.

“Ride, my noble steed! Ride!” you yelled into the wind

There was nothing on the face of this earth that could ever make you feel as you did in that moment ever again, you were sure of it. At that moment, you were the happiest you have ever been in your entire life. That feeling would never be replicated.

You swam and horsed around for as long as your muscles would let you, when they finally ached too much, you found yourselves on the tallest boulder again. The sun had just begun to dip into the horizon, setting the sky ablaze in a million different colours.

No words could even begin to do justice to the miracle before you. Henry held you tighter in his arms and pressed an earnest kiss to your temple, you felt his shoulders fall as he let out a heavy sigh.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” you asked, turning around to face him

The perfect happiness you felt just seconds before evaporated as you set eyes on his crestfallen expression. You lifted his chin up with a finger and offered him an encouraging smile, “What’s the matter, my love?”

He had no answer for you at first, turning away to gaze pensively at the sunset. All you could do was admire the way the shadows highlighted his strong jawline, you traced over it with your finger.

“Y/N,” Henry began, “Our time here together, it’s been the greatest of my life,”

Oh, thank God. You thought it was going to be something horrible!

“I feel the exact same way, Henry. It’s been heaven.” you reached forward and hugged him with all you had

You expected him to hug you back as he always does, but this time, he detached your arms from him, That’s when you had the sinking feeling that your relief may have been a bit premature.

“Please. I must tell you something. And as I say this, I beg of you to remember how happy we were here, how much we understand each other and enjoy one another’s company.”

Despite the fact that this was the most serious you have ever seen him, you still didn’t catch on to the fact that something was about to go very wrong.

"Now, come on, darling!” you chirped, “It can't be that bad! We can manage anything as long as we're together, can't we?" you stared into his eyes for any hint of reciprocation

When you found none, your heart began to pound against your chest. The silence that followed was unbearable, it was like waiting for your turn at the gallows but when he finally said what he wanted to say, you might have actually preferred the silence.

"I'm engaged to be married. And she is pregnant. With my child."

His words felt like a bucket of ice poured over your bare skin. You shot up and stared at him in utter disbelief. 

“If this is your idea of a joke…” your feeble attempt at denial was met with a shake of his head

He had the audacity to look ashamed. Ashamed! The nerve.

This certainly was not your first brush with a situation like this. It was foolish of you to have thought of this dalliance as different from all the other ones. Men were all the same. It didn’t matter how longingly they looked at you or how many godforsaken times they brushed your hair tenderly from your face, they all wanted the same thing.

Jesus, was it always so damn cold here?

You wrapped your arms tightly around yourself, feeling much too exposed in your bathing suit. Henry stood up and made a move to put his arms around you.

“I’m alright, thank you.” you said curtly, stepping away from him

His arms fell to his sides in an instant and he looked to you pleadingly, “Y/N, please. I never meant to hurt you, it is the last thing I wanted. It isn’t what you think.”

“I think!” you interjected, your voice becoming shrill as the usual string of overused lines flowed from his heavenly mouth. “I think you are quite the actor, Mr. Cavill and it has been a pleasure to see your methods up close.”

With that, you climbed down the rocks as fast as you could without hurting yourself and took off in the direction of your lodge. You ignored Henry calling out your name, you ignored the rough tree branches leaving scratches on your arms, and most of all, you ignored how the illusion of you and Henry shattered into a million pieces.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Heart-Shaped Box 💟 8

Warnings: noncon/dubcon sex, obsession, possessive, breeding, sex pollen.

This is dark!Bucky and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: You accept a job as an au pair, but not all is as it seems.

Note: Another chapter. Still deciding about where this is going. Also working on another popular series and might have a short break from posting to figure it all out but who knows? Hope you all enjoy.

Leave some feedback, like and reblog if you can <3

You wiped your hands and your thighs with the tissue. You did your best to clean away the mess along your skirt. The white polka dots helped disguise it but you were still paranoid. Well, who was really looking that close? You did your best to tidy yourself, your lips still sore from the belt. Your core pulsed with each move, hungry for more.

James opened the door and waited for you. He closed the door behind you and nudged you down the hall. As you entered the dining room, he jabbed you with his finger.

“Clean up your mess.” He ordered.

Steve and his girl watched you silently as James sat. You avoided looking at them as you lifted the plate and scraped the food back onto it. As you passed him, James leaned back and smacked your ass. The slap resounded in the silence. You stopped and closed your eyes, humiliated. Then you carried on.

“You don’t wanna eat, that’s fine by me,” James said as you returned with a cloth. 

You wiped clean the table as he tended to his own food. You finished and went back to the kitchen as you dumped your pile of leftovers and rinsed the plate. When you finished, you passed back into the dining room and sat beside James. You stared at your hands as forks clinked on plates.

“We’re gonna try to explore the town once we get settled, any suggestions?” Steve asked.

Bucky shifted in his chair and drank from his glass. He swallowed loudly before he spoke. “Just the main strip really. They have some interesting shops. There’s a cafe called Rhonda’s. Great sandwiches.” He elbowed you. “Right?”

You nodded and he cleared his throat. You sat up and looked at Steve and then the woman.

“Yes, it’s very...quaint.” You answered stiffly.

You were quiet again as you thought of that day you’d gone to town; the small cafe, the man who seemed, rather proven, too good to be true. He was nice then, you were too. Naive. In a way, he’d done you a favour. Taught you an important lesson.

“Well, I must say, not much could top this,” Steve scraped his plate with his fork. “Hell of a cook.”

“Thank you,” You said meekly. “I’ll get the dishes.”

You stood slowly. James didn’t stop you as you began to gather the empty plates. They remained as they were and you cleared the cutlery and cups as well. As you swept back in to take the platter of uneaten roast, James rose.

“Tea or coffee with your desserts?” He asked. 

You blanched but said nothing. You hadn’t prepared a dessert but you supposed he didn’t care. You’d have to figure something out. Steve pushed himself to his feet and his girl did the same. 

“Tea’s fine,” He looked to her. “Right, honey?”

She gave half a shrug and righted herself. “Sure. Tea. Great.” She forced out. “Uh… I could help… with the dishes and tidying?”

You looked at James. He glanced at you and sighed. “If that’s what you want,” He said. “I’m sure she can handle it on her own, though.”

“I don’t mind. We’re guests and… You don’t mind?” She asked you directly. James bristled at her disregard.

“No, I’d like that,” You said. “Thank you.”

James shook his head and turned away. He gestured for Steve to follow him and they left you. You turned with the platter and scurried back to the kitchen. She followed you, though with less impetus. She brought the bowl of veggies and you began to empty the leftovers into a large tupperware container. She did the same as you stayed quiet.

You clicked the lid on and shoved it in the fridge. You sensed her watching you as you turned on the sink and filled it. You added soap and slid the plates into the water as it began to bubble. She came up beside you, closer than you expected as she stood by the dish rack.

“I can do them,” She offered. “How about you dry?”

You considered for a moment then nodded. You switched places with her as she turned off the faucet and dipped her hands into the sink. You watched her work and leaned on the counter. You ran your fingers along the hem of your dress and felt unthinkingly along your tender ass.

“You okay?” She asked and shook you from your trance.

“Uh...yeah,” You lied and grabbed the towel from the bar behind you. “I’m sorry… you had to see that. He’s right. I’m emotional.”

“Well, he’s not very nice,” She commented as the water splashed softly around her hands.

You took the plate she set in the rack and dried it, afraid to confirm her statement. What would James do if he heard you were talking shit to this stranger? She’d surely tell Steve and you didn’t imagine he’d keep a secret from his best friend. And, it occurred to you, he might hurt her too.

“How long have you been together?” She asked.

You blinked and opened the cupboard. You put the plate away and reached for the next. You pretended she hadn’t said anything.

“Hello?” She stopped and turned from the sink. “I asked how long you’ve been together?”

“I don’t know,” You blurted out as you spun back to her. “And… I’m not…” You shook your head and went silent.

She stared at you for a moment. Your eyes flitted away shyly. Could she see through you so easily?

“It’s okay, me and Steve aren’t really together either.” She reached back into the water. “Not really but he didn’t give me much of a choice.”

“What?” You breathed. “Really?”

“Really,” She set another plate to dry. “I don’t wanna live in the suburbs; don’t even want this baby but… I don’t know. Won’t be so bad if I’m not alone.”

You dried the plate and put it away as she finished with the last one. “No?” You wondered.

“Well, I guess they’re right about one thing,” She said as she began on the glasses. “We could be friends. Should be. Would be very dull otherwise.”

Your lips threatened to curl and you lowered your chin to hide the glimmer of a smile. “Yeah, maybe.”

“You’re braver than me,” She chuckled. “I’ve had it out with Steve but don’t think I’ve ever talked to him like that.”

“Yeah?” You looked up.

“But what he did… Well…” She pressed her lips together. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, please,” You said. “I’m sorry enough for myself.”

“And did…” She lowered her voice and peeked at the door. “Did you ever try to run?”

“He caught me,” You said. “I locked him--” You paused again. Your heart hammered. “I locked him in the basement after the first time we.. he… I made it as far as the highway. That’s when I met Steve.”

“You met him before?” She asked.

“Yeah, I actually ran into him when I escaped and didn’t even realize it.” You scoffed. “Two of a kind, aren’t they?”

“Sounds like,” She nodded as she continued to blindly scrub the dishes. “He knows my parents, knows my friends, knows everything he needs to to keep me in line. I’d run but… can’t see it ending up any different than you.”

“I’d never wish it on anyone else but… it’s almost comforting to know I’m not the only one.” You admitted. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. Neither of us could have--” She finished and pulled the drain. “We can’t blame ourselves for their actions. We can only counteract them.”

You tilted your head and arched a brow. “Counteract?”

“They want their little white picket fence,” She grinned. “Well, let’s not make it so easy for them.”

💟

You made cream puffs. Quick, easy. Your mother’s old recipe. You worked on the cream as the woman brewed the tea. You put it all on a tray and carried it as she followed. You felt something you hadn’t in a long time. Not hope. Purpose, perhaps. Maybe you’d never get out of here, but if you were to stay, you’d make it hell for both of you.

Steve and James were in the living room. You set the tray on the coffee table as she sat beside Steve on the couch. You poured the tea and set out the plates accordingly. You made to sit on the other side of Steve but James tsked before you could. He shook his head as he snapped his fingers at you. He rubbed his thigh with a smirk.

You cringed and slowly neared him. This was another game. Another show of his power over you. You held your breath as you turned and carefully sat on his lap. You clung to the arm of the chair as you let out a long silent sigh. His hand snaked around and settled on your thigh.

“Well, look at that,” He mused. “Looks almost worth the wait.”

You kept from rolling your eyes as the others took their plates. You didn’t move as James’ fingers played with your skirt. You felt him getting hard beneath you. Worse, you felt the familiar plucking in your own loins.

“We were just talking. We thought you girls could get our stuff settled in,” Steve said as he slid closer to his girl. “She can help you get organized, and the heavier boxes of course. Me and Buck can deal with any furniture. You can get to know each other.”

“Yes,” James tickled your thigh. “Maybe learn a few things along the way.”

You stiffened and bent forward to take your plate. He seemed entirely disinterested in his. 

“We have a guest room,” James offered. “If you didn’t wanna worry about getting something up tonight.”

“You know, I think we’ll take it,” Steve said between bites as he poked his fork in the air. “It was a long drive and...mmm, these are really good.”

“Thank you.” You said.

“It was all her,” The woman said. “But I made the tea.”

“Delicious. Maybe she can share some of her recipes.” Steve smiled. The comment backhanded enough to make her frown. You did too.

“Well…” Bucky’s fingers tapped on your leg. “She’s improving.”

You caught his fingers as you balanced your plate in one hand. He tore his hand away and pinched you. You squeaked and your plate wobbled before you righted it quickly. You huffed and stood.

“You’re going to make a mess.” You turned on James.

“Sit down.” He said evenly.

“No,” You put your plate down and grabbed his. “I made you dessert and you haven’t even touched it.”

“I’ll eat when you sit down.” He insisted. “Do I have to remind you, again, that we have guests?”

"Maybe you need to remember that,” You hissed. “Since you’re being an asshole.”

His nostrils flared as he seethed. He slowly leaned forward and for a moment, you thought he was going to grab you. He took the plate instead and sat back. He gestured to the couch. 

“Sit. Eat, then.” He growled. “We’ll talk later.”

💟

When you finished dessert, you tidied up the cups and plates on your own. Steve and his girl went to get their bags as James waited for them by the door. You listened to their voices fade as they ascended the stairs. You washed up the last of the dishes and put them away. 

He was in the doorway, so quiet you hadn’t noticed him. James beckoned you over with two fingers. You slowly walked around the counter and neared him. 

“Time for bed.” He said curtly. 

He led you through the dining room and to the staircase. You stopped as he began to climb and he looked back at you. “Well?”

You didn’t argue. You continued up after him and down the hall to the door at the very end. You’d never been in his room. It was always locked. The one room that wasn’t on your list. Gears whirred as he grabbed the handle, the same mechanism as that in the basement. He entered and waited for you to do the same before he closed the door firmly. The lock clicked back into place.

Was this merely a show for his guests? What pretense was left to them? 

You looked around anxiously. The curtains were open, a dark navy with white edges. They matched the bedding across the king bed and the night tables were sleek and black like the tall dresser. 

There was another bookcase, this one filled with various antiques; the most peculiar was an old leather arm prosthetic; worn and scuffed. You crossed to it without thinking as he moved around on the other side of the bed. You stared at the carefully crafted limb, the thick laces that held together the leather.

“What are you doing?” He asked. “You can’t wear that to bed.”

You spun to face him as he tossed his clothes in a tall wicker hamper in the corner. He was unashamed of his nudity as his hard cock bobbed with each step. He sat on the bed and moved the pillow up against the headboard as he turned to stretch his legs out across the mattress. He watched you, his eyes drawn by your fingers as they picked at the skirt of your dress.

“We won’t be sleeping for a while,” He said smugly.

You looked at the floor to keep from rolling your eyes. You rounded the bed and pulled the dress over your head. You dropped it atop his clothes in the hamper and kicked off your flats. You slowly turned back to him and he reached out to you. You reluctantly neared the bed and he gripped your wrist tightly to drag you over to him. 

You let him pull you up onto the bed. He guided your body over his until you straddled him, his cock prodded you from below. He ran his palms along your thighs and pinched them. You slapped his hands and he snickered. He looked up at you and his metal hand shot up to frame your face. His held your jaw as his other hand, his real hand, crept along your body.

“So…” He tweaked your nipple and cupped your tit. “What did you tell her?”

“Tell her?” You breathed. His touch overwhelmed your reticence. “Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me.” He squeezed your jaw. “If you’re honest, it’s all so easy.”

“There was nothing I could tell her that she couldn’t already have guessed,” You hissed. “Didn’t have to say much. She’s smart.”

“And… what did she tell you?” He asked as he pinched your other nipple.

“N-nothing!” You squealed. “She talked about the baby. About moving. That’s all.”

“And what did she say about the baby and moving?” His fingers grazed your stomach and sent shivered through you.

“I… that she wasn’t...she doesn’t feel ready, is all.” You lied. 

He smiled and nodded. His metal hand slipped down to your neck. He pulled you closer as his other hand pushed between your legs. He rubbed along your folds and you gasped. “What about you, hmm?” His voice was low and gristly. “Are you ready?”

You gulped and your eyes widened. He dragged his fingers along your thigh and spread your arousal along your skin. He felt around between you and pressed the head of his cock past your clit and along your folds. You tried to shove yourself away from him with your hands on his hard stomach.

He poked at your entrance and jerked his hips up slightly. His tip slid inside of you and his hand snaked up your thigh to your hip. He forced you down and you let out an airy groan. His other hand fell away from your neck and mirrored his other. Slowly, he rocked your body.

“Move,” He growled. “And don’t stop till I tell you to.” 

His hands brushed down your hips and along your thighs. You kept the motion he had set. You couldn’t deny that it felt good. Your blood began to boil with that familiar and ever-present yearning. He watched you, his eyes drifted up and down your body as his fingers followed. 

His lashes flicked as his gaze stopped between your legs. He licked his lips at the sight. He ran his thumb down your vee and along your clit. He circled your bud and you bucked at the sensation. He did it again and again. You mewled pathetically as your hips stuttered.

“Faster,” He breathed.

You sped up as you reached to brace yourself. You grasped his shoulders as you worked against him. He continued to play with you as you murmured in response. His other hand stretched across your ass as his fingers toyed with you. You leaned on him heavily as you felt the coil tighten.

“Say it,” His fingers slowed, just enough to keep you teetering on the edge of your climax. “Say you want me.”

You shook your head and bit your tongue as you rocked faster, trying to find the friction you needed. He slapped your ass and you whimpered. He pushed his thumb against your clit as he stilled his hand.

“Say. It.” He snarled.

“I want you,” You begged. “Please, I want you.”

He smirked and flicked his thumb. He twirled around your bud and you bucked wildly atop him. You were almost there. 

“Again.” He demanded.

“I want you,” You uttered.

“Keep going.” He purred.

“I want you, I want you…” You chanted the words over and over as you reached for your release. 

Your body moved without thought. Your voice rose as you got closer and closer and finally spiked as you orgasm. You shook and whined as you came. Your thighs quivered and you slowed as the electricity flowed through you. You panted and your hands slipped down to James’ chest as your arms grew heavy.

“I didn’t say stop,” He sneered and slapped your ass with both hands. “Bad girl.”

He lifted you and pushed you onto your back before you before you could react. Still inside you, he pinned you to the bed. He thrust into you so deep you cried out. He hooked his arms up under yours and wrapped you in his heat. He didn’t waver, didn’t stop; but plunged into you harder and harder. 

“Say it,” He hissed.

“I want you.” You squealed.

He hummed as his sweaty torso brushed against yours. “Again.” He rasped. You kept going, repeating the mantra each time he thrust.

You were close to peaking again. Your voice was shrill and untamed. He sat back on his knees and pulled your legs up against his chest. He was quick to resume his former pace. His hands gripped the back of your knees as he crashed into you. Your head lolled and you clutched at the bedspread as the ecstasy consumed you. You exclaimed as your bliss mounted once more.

He pushed your legs together and rutted into you. His groans were loud and animalistic. The bed trembled beneath you. He sank into you with a grunt and spasmed as he coated your walls. His thrusts slowed and he hugged your legs with one arm and his other hand squeezed your thigh. He shuddered and hung his head as he stopped entirely.

You tried to wriggle away and his hold on your tightened. He tutted and rolled his hips so that you squirmed. His hand crawled up your thigh and along your pelvis until it rested on your stomach.

“We’re not done yet,” He said as he began to rock against you. “Not even close.”

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs “Sign of Support.”

A lot of you have wanted some sort of update on the LFIL arc. So this one counts sort of as fluff, and sort of as a starting point for finally getting back to this arc. 

Prepare yourself for Adam being awkward lol :) 

It was happening again.

He had expected this sooner rather than later, and it hurt to watch.

He knew, more than anyone that it wasn’t going to work. The GA was full of aliens, not humans. The things that impressed humanity, the things that got humanity’s attention were the same sort of things that tended to scare the GA.

But of course, the average human couldn’t have known that, and with their tendency to change creatures around them to become more human, the aliens with which they worked didn’t see it either.

They were doing the right thing, but going about it the wrong way. 

Still, that didn’t stop his feelings of sadness and empathy for their plight. 

Walking with Sunny, standing on the buddy pegs attached to her back, and examining the protest encampment around him, he couldn’t help but be impressed by their bravery. He knew for a fact that if he was in their shoes, he would be way more likely to hide, lie to everyone around him, and even himself. 

But here they were out in the open, a shining beacon of defiance against the GA.

It was a difficult situation, of course he supported the GA wholeheartedly, and he always would, and with that support came an understanding. But that didn’t mean that he had to agree with them.

They were scared.

And people tend to lash out at things that scare them.

As it turns out, that seemed to be a common factor across the galaxy.

He reached down, hand caressing the tear gas canisters at his belt and the accompanying gas mask. He prayed, just PRAYED that he wouldn’t have to use them, but how was he to know what would happen. When people got righteously angry about something they tended to act up, and when thrown into a group of like-minded people, the pack mentality was overwhelming.

He wanted everything to go well, he wanted them to make their point, to prove that they were the moral superiors, demonstrate to the GA that they weren’t militant, and all they wanted was peace.

That was the sort of thing that would get across to the GA.

But with humans involved…. He didn’t really have much hope.

He glanced around at the assembled tents looking for any sign of trouble.

He didn’t see much, just the limp white flags, with the LFIL logo printed proudly on their front.

Still keeping an eye on his surroundings he leaned against one of Sunny’s shoulders, “So what do you think about this whole thing?”

Sunny turned her head to look at him gold eyes and blue carapace glittering with the yellow sheen of the Rundi sky.

She shrugged, setting him a little off balance. She grabbed his feet to steady him as she continued up a small incline. 

“It doesn't bother me, and I suppose I understand them.”

“Oh?”

“Imagine finding someone you connect with, someone who understands you more than anyone ever has. Imagine a Drev finding the greatest warrior in the galaxy, and then….. Just having to suffer knowing you can never be with them. Granted none of the other species ever would have considered it an option without the humans, but now…. It makes sense. You connect with someone well enough, then beyond that there isn’t much you can do.” 

“I agree with you completely, but let me play devil's advocate for a moment. They aren't even the same species, without the same genetics. It wouldn’t be physically possible to produce a viable offspring.”

She turned her head to look at him, “And how does it work for your brother David and Jordan?”

He laughed, “Ok, ok, poor question.”

“Adoption, a relevant option. Plus, this is coming from the guy who lent his DNA to some alien.”

“Arguably she stole it, but I get your point.”

They turned another corner scanning the crowd, “Hear me out though. Humans are…. Well you know how humans are. They need…. Affection and intimacy….. How does that even…. Work?”

“Oh I am sure some human has found a way, besides, humans and Drev aren’t so different in that regard.”

He tilted his head to look at her, “How the hell do you know that.”

“Got into a discussion with Krill. He thinks it's possible, though he would never tell you humans. He already thinks you do a ton of stupid stuff anyway.”

“Don’t you guys also have a mating season.’

“We did, but it was actually based on the magnetic fluctuation of our planet in time with the seasons. Now that we don’t have that anymore, things are out of whack.”

He grunted, “huh, I didn’t know that.”

“You never asked.” 

“Because that is a totally normal thing to ask someone. Hello my name is Adam, and I am actually very curious about how….. That stuff… works on your planet.”

“That stuff, huh?”

He rolled his eyes, “I was sheltered ok, give me a break.” They came to a stop at a crossroads, and Adam stepped down from her back and onto the dirt tilting his head to listen trying to detect any signs of a disturbance as of yet there was nothing. He turned to the left down another line of tents passing into a more populated area of the protest encampment.

People wearing specially made clothing, with the LFIL logo, shirts, scarves, bandannas, jackets, hats etc. etc. walked about openly with their alien companions, a few even brave enough to show overt affection towards each other.

A human hugging a Tesraki, while another stood on a box to kiss the cheek of their drev partner.

“Now that, is something I couldn’t do.” he said to sunny, walking past.

“Kiss someone/”

“No, Kiss someone two to three feet taller than me. Way too much work.”

“How do you know, maybe climbing up three feet would be worth it.”

Eyes followed them nervously as they walked past, their riot gear marking them as ‘the enemy’. 

“I would rather not be in danger of twisting my ankle every time I wanted to show someone affection, thanks.”

“You twist your ankle anyway.”

“That’s my point. If I twist my ankle now, Imagine what would happen if I had to do acrobatics on a regular basis.” They came to a halt as a group of protesters paraded in front of them holding up picket signs.

 One of the protesters turned to glare at him, “We aren't doing anything illegal.”

Adam held up his hands, “I know. I’m just security to make sure no one gets hurt.’

The other human didn’t seem convinced angrily grabbing their alien companion around the waist before marching off.

The Tesraki looked uncomfortable looking back at them apologetically.

Though tesraki were generally cutthroat businessmen, they tended towards extreme submissiveness in relationships with humans.

Adam stepped through the gap left by the protesters and continued walking.

As they did they early ran into a group of kids selling little white flags and bandannas. They pulled to a halt, eyes widening in surprise and shock. A young Tesraki pulled to a halt with them looking as if he was about to panic and run off.

However, the kid at the front’s eyes widened and a big smile crossed his face,, ‘holy shit! You, I know you!”

Adam smiled, “You do now?”

“Yeah , yeah you’re in that movie. You, you command the UNSC fleet.”

For some reason, that exclamation calmed the other kids, and they squealed, shouting and asking for a picture. Of course he was happy to oblige, posing with them for their pictures. Sunny stood to the side happy to watch though she was dragged in for the next set of pictures once they realized who she was. 

“What are you doing here?” one of them asked glancing down at his clothing. Smile falling, “You…. aren't here to stop us are you?”

Adam shook his head, “No, of course not, protesting isn’t illegal.” He motioned to Sunny with his other hand, “Sunny and I are just here to make sure that you guys stay safe, and that no one gets hurt.’

Sunny nodded.

One of the more skeptical looking teens looked up at him, “How do we know you aren't here to stop us. You work for the GA after all.”

Adam shrugged, “I don’t have much else to prove other than my word.”

The skeptic looked at them, a wicked smile appearing on her face, “I know.” She reached into her cart and pulled out one of the bandannas, “Wear this.”

 It was clear she expected him to balk at the idea, but to her surprise, he smiled, “Alright, sounds reasonable.” he held out his arm, and watched, still smiling as she tied it around his upper arm still glowering at him skeptically, “Think you can spare one for my friend.” He patted Sunny on the arm.

That broke her skepticism, and she smiled openly handing a second one over to him, which he tied around one of Sunny’s upper arms. He waved a goodby to them, and stepped back up onto Sunny’s back walking away with her.

“That was nice of you.”

He shrugged, ‘Not really. I honestly agree with them. The GA has no right to tell them who they can and cannot be with. I know they have some reasons, but I feel like there is a better way of dealing with it.”

Sunny hummed deep in her throat, “Uh-huh, or you really just want a really tall girlfriend.”

He sighed, “Honestly I’d settle for any size girlfriend if I could just talk to her like a normal person without sticking my foot in my mouth.”

“Your incompetence with women is acrobatic.” 

He snorted, “I’m glad you’re impressed.

Together, they continued their slow circle around the encampment drawing suspicious and confused eyes as they went. Sometimes they were recognized, and, occasionally people would ask to take pictures with them, other times, they just wanted to talk.

 The variety of people was… astounding.

A barely five foot human with a nine foot Drev. A group of humans and a group of Tesraki.

A lawyer and a Finnari.

Two couples both as business partners with a Tesraki half.

They were young and old male-female, in all different pairings. Old soldiers, and young students. It was honestly quite stunning.

At one point they stopped off for water and ran into a Massive bodybuilder with his drev, whose carapace at any other time would have marked her as ugly for a Drev. At first Sunny felt bad for her, with her muddy brown carapace, mat without any shine. 

The man turned and handed Adam some water.

Adam raised the bottle, “Thanks.”

The man looked him over eyeing the bandanna around his arm, “Interesting accessories for a GA affiliate.”

“You can work for someone and disagree with them.”

The man laughed, “I suppose that’s true.”

 He greeted Sunny as well who was trying not to stare at the other female Drev for too long lest it seem like she was staring..

He motioned to the arm band, “Supporter, or-” his eyes flicked between Adam and Sunny.

“We’re just here to make sure everyone stays safe.”

Off to the side the mat Drev looked at Sunny, “I’m sorry.”

Sunny glanced over at her nervously, “Sorry for what?”

“You must have been treated poorly on Anum.” 

Sunny shuffled her feet awkwardly, “I was alright.”

“Regardless. I hope things work out for you. The Drev beauty standards are unfair, and things need to change.”

Sunny wasn’t entirely sure how she was supposed to feel about that.

“They aren't so bad.” she ventured defensively.”

“Then I am sure you are getting combat offers left and right with your coloring.”

Sunny went quiet again . She would have said this was passive aggressive, but the Drev didn’t do passive aggressive, so was this just an open statement about how ugly she was? If that was the case, it kind of hurt.

“I have, because I am an experienced warrior.” Her voice was cold.

“Oh, where is your partner?”

Sunny felt her fists clench, but Adam placed a hand on her arm. She was quiet, “I turned them down.”

That seemed to surprise the female Drev.

The two humans exchanged a look, the way that only humans can, speaking without actually saying anything.

Adam took Sunny by the arm and raised his water at the man, “Good luck to you.”  before turning to walk away.

“I hope you find a battle partner.” the other Drev cut in at the last second.

Adam Squeezed Sunny’s arm tighter, but she turned her head anyway snapping, “I already have.” Before marching off without another word. Adam was forced to scamper after her, his legs much shorter.

“Wow, wow, hold your horses.” 

She finally slowed to a stop still fuming.

“Who the hell does she think she is!”

“Sunny-.”

“Calling me ugly to my face!”

“Sunny-”

“I should have challenged her to a duel right then and there.”

“Sunny!” 

She turned to look at him, “What?”

He climbed back up on her back patting her shoulder, “She was just insecure and jealous.I mean come on, look at you, Blue is the rarest color in the galaxy, and we all know that height is the least important attribute of Drev beauty standards. The better you can fight, the more you make up for it, besides it's not her fault that she can’t accept someone as being valid unless they are in a pair.” 

Sunny grunted.

He frowned, “Speaking of which, coming from her it seems like a double standard. You fight with me, and I’m fucking awesome, so by default you have to be too.”

“Wow Adam, you really know how to make a person feel better.”

“I know.”

They were crossing back to the other side of the encampment, when they ran into some familiar faces.

Ramirez and Maverick appeared from the crowd, waving the two of them down with greeting hands. 

They pulled to a stop, and the Commander motioned to the white bandanna on Ramirez’s arm, “Nice accessories.”

“I like yours too.”

“I didn’t know you were a supporter.”

Ramirez laughed, “Man I am a supporter of whatever the hell people want to do with themselves.”

Off to his side maverick had tied one of the white bandannas to her belt.

“And you.”

“Personally, I don’t give a shit. I don’t even think it should be an issue, but by banning it, the GA created a problem for themselves and took away the freedom of choice for these people. Even if I did disagree with what they are doing, I would still support their ability to make that choice for themselves.” She tugged on the bandanna, “But hey, would I be wearing this otherwise.”

The commander nodded his head surprised and pleased at his men for being so open minded, though he supposed it should make sense. They worked with aliens every day. Where others might have fostered a sense of fear based on unfamiliarity, they had experience.

“Lets just hope this all goes over well tomorrow. I don’t want to have to use any of this.” He motioned down to his gear

The commander sighed.

“Isn’t that the catch 22.”

Loyal to one side sympathetic to the other, and empathetic to both.

He would be relieved when it was finally fixed.

Though how he could help was beyond him. 

[ari-shipping-stuff]

Monochrome Week 2020

Day Seven - [Fake Dating] AU

@monochromeweek

———

you people seem to be enjoying this au lmao

so i extended the storyline a bit for y'all. hope you enjoy

———

Weiss was in Blake's dreams. She wanted to panic. But how could she, honestly? She couldn't possibly feel distressed when the mere thought of Weiss made her feel so relaxed.

Blake picked a fuzzy dandelion from her front yard. It was dark already. Actually, rather early in the morning. But she couldn't sleep.

She didn't want to be faced with Weiss rejecting her. She didn't want to panic. She'd been on cloud 9 since that night at the restaurant. Even more so when they finally stood up to Henry. Weiss had been so much more carefree around her.

She could almost pretend they were dating for real.

Blake embraced her legs to her chest, pursing her lips. She stared forward at the white picket fence, contemplating the past few weeks. The last few perfect weeks.

Her phone buzzed next to her. Blake picked it up with her free hand, stretching her legs out on the dewy grass.

She clicked through the phone, checking the inbox.

The dark jabs of red in the contact's picture made her pause. Her finger hovered over the message as she read through the little preview.

I'm getting desperate, B...

Blake stared at it blankly, feeling her Cloud 9 evaporate. Replacing it, a dark, familiar feeling. She wanted to throw her phone across the yard. Hear it shatter. Feel the fact of him being unable to contact her anymore. An irrational fear mixed in with anger.

She clicked the message.

As she read through it, that feeling grew on her like toxic vines. Creeping around her chest. Squeezing tightly.

Blake turned off her phone, leaving him on seen. The vines seemed to pull back, but lingered near. Laying her phone back down beside her, she pulled her legs back to her chest, staring at the picket fence.

As she sighed, her dandelion blew away, little spring snowflakes flying into the night.

Blake just wished this would stop.

•

Saturday night. Weiss never imagined being in another rampant dance club so soon. But it was Yang's birthday, so she had to relent.

And Blake would be there. Of course, Weiss was coming.

But even if Weiss wasn't so infatuated with the mere thought of Blake, she still had to come. If not for Yang, then for her and Blake's apparent relationship (which she was enjoying very much, to her surprise).

The news had been absolutely buzzing for weeks. Internet or in person, there would be people eyeing them together. Or even just Weiss when she passed through the hall, a smug expression painted on her face like, 'Hah. I got her first.'

With the amount of attention they were getting, Weiss was somewhat surprised they hadn't heard from Adam yet. Especially with Blake's belief of him keeping tabs on her.

But regarding Blake, Weiss sensed something was off.

She looked distracted. Tired, even. She'd already downed two cosmopolitans within the hour and was already ordering another. Weiss couldn't possibly think of any other reason for her to be pushing her alcohol tolerance this much. Blake barely even took alcohol.

Weiss bit her lip, hesitating. Then she placed a soft hands on Blake's wrist.

"Uh.. Blake?"

Blake turned to Weiss attentively, and suddenly, Weiss felt absolutely ridiculous. Blake was perfectly sober anyway. Of course, she was. She clearly knew how much she was drinking. What was there to worry about?

Weiss shook her head, raising her own drink to her lips.

"Nothing," she said. "Just checking if you were still sober."

Blake snorted, licking her lips. Weiss could see the faint red stains on them, clear as day. She gulped down more of her Blue Lagoon.

"Actually, Weiss.." Blake winced. "There's been.. Something I wanted to talk to you about."

The pink on Blake's cheeks must've been coming from the neon lights from the ceiling.

"Oh?"

"Yep." Blake replied. But just as she began to speak, something caught Weiss's eye in the distance. She craned her neck, trying to see.

".. You know, it's been on my mind.. A-A while, and.. I wanted to..—" Blake looked up at Weiss nervously. Her face fell as she realized her attention was somewhere else. Though she had to admit, it was a bit annoying that this thing could steal her attention so easily.

"Um.. Weiss?"

Blake turned, searching the club for whatever (or god forbid, whoever) Weiss was supposed to be looking at.

"Weiss? I can't see it."

Her only reply was the background music raging through the speakers.

"Weis—?"

"Did you know that he would be here?"

Blake frowned, squinting at the crowd. But there was nothing to see. Everyone was on the move, shifting positions, dancing. No one could be identified.

"Who are you talking about?"

But she was looking in the wrong place. Weiss held the sides of Blake's face, steering it in the right direction.

Weiss's gaze wasn't in the crowd, after all. Rather, beyond it. In a darker, remote corner, Blake's very own nightmare stood there, unnoticed by her as his red was bathed neon green in the light.

And he appeared to be looking for something.

"Fuck," Blake muttered, earning a questioning look from Weiss. She began to stammer incoherently, stumbling off her chair.

"Blake, what are you—"

Blake grabbed Weiss's wrists, eyes wide with panic.

"We need to get out of here." she hissed, turning slightly so her back was turned towards him.

Weiss's eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Blake, it'll be fine." she whispered, breaking a hand free from her grip. She tucked a strand of hair behind Blake's ear, lightly stroking the dark hair pulled up in her bun. "I'm here. We don't have to pursue him."

"He's already looking for me." Blake mumbled.

"And he'll find us." Weiss reassured, holding Blake's hands in her own. "He'll find us together, being the most amazing couple to ever exist and he'll have to back off since we're in public. Has he ever made a scene in public before?"

Blake shook her head like a sad child.

"Good." Weiss smiled. "He definitely won't now."

She let go of one hand, but held on tight to the other, leading Blake through the dance floor.

"Wh-Where— What're you doing?"

Weiss smiled at her. "Let's just go dance."

•

Blake was still wary of Adam. She couldn't see him anymore now that she was in the crowd. Heck, she didn't even know where she was.

He could've come into the crowd. What if he was going to find her? What if he was behind her right now?

Blake looked behind her, before sighing in relief.

Okay, nevermind.

She needed to relax. She was with Weiss. Ruby and Yang weren't far, of course. Since Weiss made them promise to stay near (Blake could almost gush about the fact that Weiss felt the need to clarify, 'It's for Blake').

What if he always knew you were there?

Blake wanted to stop panicking. Maybe it was the alcohol making her emotions rage. She wasn't used to more than a glass, usually.

He's waiting for you to let down your guard.

Blake stumbled, almost crash-landing on Weiss.

"Blake, are you alright?" Weiss asked. She held Blake by the shoulders, sliding a hand to her cheek. Blake held that hand gently, nuzzling into her touch.

"Still bothered?"

Blake nodded, looking away.

Weiss sighed, raising her other hand to Blake's face.

"I'm here. It'll be alright." she smiled. "I'll always be here."

Blake raised her eyebrows at the way Weiss phrased it. It was probably nothing. They were close again. Far more affectionate, but with their line of work, that was to be expected. It was probably nothing.

But Blake felt something. An electricity. Not a giddy excitement like she had with Adam and her other past crushes.

It was more of a connection. An intimacy. Just like that night at the restaurant. Where the heavens danced in Weiss's eyes. And everything was nothing except the two of them. A whole lightning bolt striking.

All Blake could hear was her own heartbeat, thumping violently in her ears.

Weiss's lips read her name.

And suddenly Blake's lips were on hers.

And nothing else mattered.

She could taste the bittersweet citrus from Weiss's cocktail and the pure ecstasy when Weiss started to kiss back. The petrichor and vanilla never hit Blake as strongly as it did then. And her eyes only half-lidded, yet was blinded.

It was the strongest feeling in the universe. So strong, it would linger on Blake's tongue for who knows how long. She was so blinded by it, she couldn't gain her bearings when she realized she was being pulled away.

———

don't kill me 👉👉

please.

— ari

———

part one | part two | part three | part four

[sweetcatmintea]

Dogwood & Co scene 1

So I started writing a new wip and figured, hey, why not post it? So, here’s the first scene so far. (It doesn’t have a title yet so the place holder is Dogwood and co.) Image credits are in a reblog so tumblr doesn’t hide this post :v Feedback is always very much appreciated

[image description: a mood board of three images on a herb background. The first is a photo of pair of copper crane shaped scissors. The second is a digital illustration of a person’s eyes. They have brown skin, dark eyes, and curly hair that’s shaved on their right side. They have orange makeup under their eyes. The third image is a photo of a dogwood flower, a white four petalled flower with a yellow centre and dark stem. description end.]

Words: 1858 Trigger warning(s): None. Ask to tag Character(s): Dogwood, Suecica, Hosta, Niobe, and Dogwood’s mother.

---

This is not one of the greats, an epic adventure of brave heroes bringing long overdue justice to an ancient evil. There is no shining knight, nor corrupt monarchy felled. It is a simple story of a young witch and the trials they never imagined themself facing. There is triumph, loss, magic, and food. There is a baker with a wild glint in her eye and a smile so infectious even the cantankerous little dragon is swayed to joy. There is danger, of course, but, at its core, this is a story about love. You may not agree with that at first. That’s fine. This story is not one of the greats, but you have some time and I have a tale so would you lend me your ear and hear Dogwood’s plight?

--

Death will always follow in your footsteps, an inevitable shadow at your heels, but Dogwood, it will never take you.

--

To start at the beginning is to start much too early. Instead, we come to meet our protagonist midway through their morning chores, kneeling in clovers and dewy soil, gently snipping countryside herbs with ornate scissors. Brass, carved in a crane’s image, they sat light in Dogwood’s grasp. Suecica, the youngest of Dogwood’s brothers, crouched as close as Dogwood’s movements allowed, eagerly thrusting a basket towards them at the first hint of its necessity. Though his enthusiastic help was in name only, Dogwood was happy for the company. They placed the cuttings with the others, a single fluid movement, never breaking the flow of their work. They mused an explanation here and there, the function of this herb, the necessity of that ritual. For many, it may not have been the fun side of magic, but for Dogwood, it felt like home. Magic was their heartbeat. To teach it was a fulfilment they knew they would not be able to indulge in for much longer. Suecica was a young lad of eight, in but a few more seasons, his own magic would begin to manifest. It was only a matter of time until he made his vows with Nes. Dogwood wondered idly what form Suecica’s Dustmorph would take. A cat like their mother? A fox like their father and brother? They thought a dog might suit him better but there was no way to tell. There was an element of inheritability, to be sure, but the shape of a person’s essence has many hands moulding it. Until he was ready, it was a secret between his soul and the Gods.  

The tug of magic pulled them out of their thoughts. Followed quickly by the appearance of The Respected Hosta. Dogwood rose to greet her, wiping their hand on their pants as they stood. Although it was not uncommon to see a witch of Hosta’s status in the countryside, or that she might seek out an apprentice in person, it was strange to see her usual mischievous graces shadowed by a worried brow and stiff gait. Shoulders rigid and back straight, her natural flow was entirely absent. Her robes battled at her ankles as she approached, raising a hand in greeting as soon as she made out the pair. Sharp vision was not a blessing she had claim to. Dogwood wondered, not for the first time, if the snake draped around her neck was a cause or a coincidence.

“Hosta, Niobe, your presence blesses us. What brings you to the country?”

Never one to be left out, Suecica parroted Dogwood’s greeting. “Your presence blesses us!”

Hosta nodded in return. “Your company is appreciated, Dogwood, as is yours young Suecica.” Niobe curved around her wrist, sliding the dimming location charm Hosta had used to find them over his head until it might be needed once more. As he reclaimed it, the magic pull faded to nothing.

“Unfortunately, I am not here for pleasantries. In regard to your recent behaviour, the Council has deemed it appropriate that you are to report to the catacombs on the ninth hour of this night for disciplinary action.” Hosta’s voice was sharp, leaving no room for argument.

The drastic change a slap in the face to Dogwood. They blinked at her, eyebrows arching in surprise. Her stony gaze gave nothing away. Moments lapsed before they remembered they should respond.

“Oh, okay… Will I need to bring anything?”

“No. Do not be late.” With a dip of her head, she turned and left. Niobe stared from her shoulder as she went, studying their reactions with an emotion Dogwood couldn’t place.

The siblings exchanged a look, broken by Suecica jabbing Dogwood in the ribs, laughing as they jolted.

“Ooooh, you’re in TRouBle~”

“It would certainly seem so.” Dogwood shook their head, taking on a mock stern expression. “If you don’t want me to turn you into a toad for that, you’d better run!”

Of course, they weren’t capable of that kind of magic, but that really wasn’t the point. Following a threat through was never the point with siblings.

Suecica shrieked in delight, taking of in the direction of their home. “You can’t run with scissors!!”

Dogwood pocketed the scissors and took off after him. “Don’t think you can escape so easily Sue! You’d better not drop those herbs unless you want to be the one picking them all up again!”

They ran through fields, spooking chickens and amusing friendly neighbours until they arrived, panting, out of breath, at the pink picket fence lining their family property. Sue clamoured through the hard wood door, kicking off his shoes and nearly upending his basket in his haste to enter the house. Fortunately for the pair, Dogwood caught it in time. They followed him inside, slipping their shoes neatly beside the brick wall, and setting the herbs aside to be properly prepared later. Though a chore to some, Dogwood enjoyed each and every First Moon Ritual, the ceremonial burning of hand-picked herbs at the height of night under a new moon to thank the stars for their continued guardianship. There was such a monotonous peace to it, a feeling of belonging and purpose they could seldom word, let alone explain, even to fellow witches. Would they still be able to perform it tonight? Would three hours be long enough for the Council’s intent? Even in punishment, they had always respected the rituals. But then, the whole situation was not quite right, what sway would ‘always’ have here?

Sue thumped down the hallway, nearly barrelling into their mother as she left the nursery. “Mum! Muuumm!! Save me! Dogwood’s gonna turn me into a toad!!” He feigned terror at his sibling’s approach, tucking himself behind her for safety.

Porlock, the sturdy white and red striped cat sitting on her shoulder puffed their fur and hissed at him while their mother scolded his noise.

“Hush, you silly monkey! I just got your sister down!”

“Oops!” He dropped his tone to a stage whisper, grinning sheepishly. “Sorry!”

She sighed, rolling her eyes just as dramatically as his antics, and ruffled his hair. She ushered them away from the sleeping baby. Porlock’s fur settled back to the almost tabby pattern as they left. With a huff, the cat leapt to the floor, plodding back to nursery, their red tail a flag behind them.

The three gathered in the kitchen, Sue fishing a honey biscuit from the tin and offering one to his sibling. Their mother nodded towards the basket.

“How did you go?”

“Good. The plants have grown well this cycle. We found plenty for the First Moon, as well as some to eat. Sue listened to instructions but, unfortunately, will have to live the rest of his life as a toad.”

“That is a shame,” she laughed as Sue whined, “I suppose he will have to develop a taste for flies.”

“Muumm, no! I don’t want to be a toad!” He crumpled into her, the mockery too much to bear.

“Maybe we can work something out. I doubt a toad will be as useful as our little Sue.”

“Muuuuummmm.”

She laughed again. Dogwood’s mother had the warmest smile they had ever seen. Her brown eyes sparkled with so much joy and life, the tired lines running through her skin could do nothing to dampen her spirits. She had always been a lively woman, but fatigue was unavoidable at the moment. Nuttallii, the youngest member of their family, had proven herself a difficult sleeper. She seemed to be committed to keeping their parents awake as long as possible and had shown no signs of slowing her tirade yet. It was only a matter of time until she would though. Just like her siblings before her, Dogwood knew she would learn peace eventually.

Dogwood was the second born and eldest of their three siblings. They did not mirror their mother as Sue and Nut did, sharing her coppery hair and soft face, nor were they made in their father’s image like Cornel, their other brother, carrying his dark locks and straight features. Rather, they were somewhere in between. On multiple occasions, they had been compared to their Grandmother, a portrait of her youth. The same warm russet skin, deep brown, near black hair, and the same ebony eyes that seemed to say more than their face ever could. They missed her dearly, a weakened constitution taking her long before they were ready to say goodbye. It was not the first Memoria Bell they had received but it was the one that truly introduced them to loss.

“Besides, I shouldn’t get punished!” Sue’s face lit up in a treacherous grin, “Since Dogwood was the one who got in ~tRoUbLe~!”

What a brat. Siblings. Honestly.

Their mother paused her teasing, looking to them for an explanation. They’d like one too if it was on offer. Instead, they kind of shrugged.

“Hosta asked-”

“Ordered!”

“… Ordered my presence in the catacombs at ninth hour tonight. I am to be reprimanded for my recent behaviour. She didn’t say what I had done, or really anything else.”

“Except not to be late!”

“Except that. I’m not sure what this is about. The only thing I can think of is falling asleep in the library during studies, but I doubt that would amount to such formal measures…”

A worried moment passed between them. The kind that is all consuming between adults yet hardly noteworthy to children. Though witches may command change from their fingertips, it would seem they turn shy when it is thrust upon them.

Their mother tried to gather herself, putting on faux airs for her children. “Well, there’s nothing much we can do until tonight. I’m sure it is a simple mix up, nothing to fret about.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

She put a comforting hand on their shoulder. It would be okay. They would get through it together if it wasn’t.

“In the meantime, I have some deliveries that need to be made. The Roselia family have several pots to be delivered and Ms. Prunus has a mortar and pestle. Can you take them? If the pots are too heavy, leave them. I’ll get your brother to take them when he gets back.”

---

Tag list

@snobbysnekboi, @inkovert, @kainablue, @i-rove-rock-n-roll , and @goblin-writer