#well at least i have a cool drawing of trees now

[voidscreechingonathursday]

Drawing grass > touching grass

(Click on the image for better resolution :) )

[celtic-crossbow]

Blood Ties Chapter 25

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Poorly written smut; Pregnancy symptoms; Pregnancy exams; Mild angst

A/N: I hope others laugh at this as hard as I did while writing it. Even if you don't, it's okay. I was greatly amused and I'm not ashamed.

Another cold night, but at least the house was on a hill and surrounded by trees on most sides; a large structure with a gated driveway. The fire was roaring and everyone was bedding down for the night in the same room since the last few times of sleeping in different rooms or on different levels had proven problematic when quick escape was needed. Carol chose to lay closer to the fireplace so you and Daryl could have the bedroll to yourselves—when you actually chose to go to bed.

“Has anyone seen Daryl or Y/N?” Lori asked after laying an extra blanket on your bedroll.

“She probably had to pee again.” Carl giggled from his sleeping bag. 

“Do you need something, Lori?” Carol sat up, hugging herself from the cool air when her blanket fell a little. Carol knew exactly where the two of you were and she would make sure you were left alone there.

You had gone from touch me not straight into don’t stop touching me. While Daryl felt pride in the fact that you only had eyes for him, he may or may not have been beginning to wonder if you could possibly break his dick. It had been nearly three straight days of a constant desire for him. That day alone, you had begged him to take you straight into the upstairs bathroom of the huge house and stuff you with three fingers, fucking two orgasms from you within moments. The two of you had filed back in with everyone else before your absence was even noticed. 

Everything had barely been brought from the vehicles before you were saying you needed to pee, tapping one finger against the middle of Daryl’s palm as you took his hand. A clear signal. Five minutes later, you were bouncing on his cock (with a little help) while he was sprawled out by a tree.

And now, Daryl was panting harshly, not even bothering to tuck himself away before or after he slid down the wall and landed on his ass. You were still bent over the sink, thighs a sticky mess, his spend leaking from your deliciously abused cunt. Grabbing your panties, leggings, and sweats to drag them up over your hips was almost impossible. Almost. You dared not ask your poor partner. 

You had been insatiable for him, needing his hands on you constantly. You seemed to be in a perpetual state of arousal, and god did he feel good. He had not complained a single time, even when it was clear he was tired or worried about something else. He took care of you first and foremost. And well, he was getting laid, so it wasn’t like he got nothing out of the deal. But as you turned to face him in that very moment, he just looked wrecked. Like if he tried to satisfy your urges one more time, he might literally die. With a fond smile, you stepped toward his outstretched legs and tapped the sole of his boot with the toe of your own. 

“Get up.” The look he gave you from beneath his lashes wasn’t angry. Far from it. It was reluctant and exhausted but he began to lever himself upright without a word, one corner of his mouth drawing upward for a brief moment when he was standing before you, seemingly awaiting your command. God, you had to admit that it was causing some seriously hard to ignore feelings in an area that had many times already been thoroughly fucked. You kept your eyes on his even as his pretty blues followed your hands toward his cock. He made no move to pull away or complain but you could have sworn you saw his entire body melt when you began to gingerly tuck him away. “Thank you for taking such good care of me.” You planted a kiss on his cheek. After everything he’d done for and to you that day, it was the gratitude that made him blush. You couldn’t have stopped the giggle if you tried. “Let’s go get some sleep, okay?”

“Ya good, then?” His hand came to rest on your hip, eyes questioning. 

“I’m better than good, Daryl. You,on the other hand, are about to fall asleep standing.” The archer didn’t argue. He must have known he was swaying on his feet. Driving and lugging around supplies and taking care of you, he had to be bone-weary. Regardless of your discomfort, the ache already returning in full force, you wanted him to rest. He was trying so hard to take better care of himself at your request—eating full meals, sleeping a little more, wearing more clothing when hunting so he stayed warm—that you didn’t want to be the cause of fucking up all you had worked so hard to instill in him. “Come on, sleep time for you.”

He simply nodded and let himself be led from the room with quite the yawn. It was all eyes on you the moment the two of you stepped foot inside the large den, the warmth of the fire overwhelming any anxiety the stares could have even remotely caused. Arousal was quickly dampened by the lure of impending sleep and warmth. Dary was not taking watch, set to hunt the next morning, so you’d have him to yourself all night. 

He let you under the blankets first, assisting you down until you were situated on your side. When he climbed in after you, he took his usual position and angled himself so that your belly could rest on his stomach and hip while you could curl right into his chest. As wound up as you had been only moments before, your body was now succumbing to the siren call of sleep. You just needed to take care of one more thing. 

“Daryl?”

“Hmm?” Even that simple acknowledgement was somehow slurred. You had really worn him out. 

“Sleep late and then go hunting, okay?” You wondered how hard you’d need to fight him. He gave in on a great many things as the pregnancy progressed and you became more and more uncomfortable, but hunting was his time to recharge. You didn’t want to take that away from him, but you were also afraid of him spiraling back into bad habits.

“Okay.” He breathed, sounding more than half asleep. You blinked against his chest. So, you just needed to fuck him senseless to get him to agree to important things. Noted. 

“Thank you.”

“Mhm.”

“I love you.”

He was already softly snoring, his warm breath disturbing your hair.

When you awoke, the sun’s warmth could not compare to the heat of the flames from the night before, but it was still welcome. It meant you had survived into another day. The fact that you were still firmly pressed against Daryl was an absolute bonus. It was well into the morning and he was still absolutely sound asleep. You weren’t worried that he was sick, even if the others most likely had their concerns. They were all accustomed to greeting him when they stepped outside to start the day or finding him completely absent on a hunt. You knew exactly why he slept late.

You felt him inhale deeply and begin to stir, grumbling something you didn’t understand. Pulling away to stretch, you felt a tug on your skin, drawing your attention to your chest, where your shirt had pulled from your flesh but was still stuck to Daryl’s button-up. “What the fuck?” The mortified look on the archer’s face said that he was thinking the same thing you were. You didn’t remember cum getting on your shirt or his, but you weren’t exactly thinking straight either. “Where’s your bag?”

Daryl jerked his chin toward the area just behind you. The man may have opened up around you and Carol but if anyone else saw this, even if they didn’t choose to laugh or tease—which was unlikely—you feared that Daryl would shut down and pull away from you.  

“And mine?” You asked, biting your lip.

He cleared his throat, the sound stuttering. “S’there too.” His back was to everyone but he’d know who was there. He had a way of identifying people through breath and footfall that was truly impressive. You, on the other hand, had to crane your neck to scope out the area. Carol was putting away some leftovers the best way she could. Lori was sitting with Carl, a math book on the kid’s lap. Glenn was laughing with Maggie in the doorway. Too many people. Daryl would likely run away, never to be seen again.

“Okay, first thing’s first.” You pried the articles of clothing apart, wincing at the nearly imperceptible sound that was likely heard by no one but sounded like a chainsaw to your ears. “I’m gonna go under the blankets so you can reach my bag for a different sweater. May as well grab your shirt while you’re there.”

“Gonna think you’re suckin’ my—”

“Well, you have two choices.” You whispered. “We can get up, grab our clothes to go change, and hope for the best. But we will have to walk past Glenn.” You peered around Daryl’s head to find Glenn and Maggie exactly where they had been, only T-Dog had joined them. “Or we can try and change under these blankets. I’ll giggle and mention Thumper, and they won’t think anything of it.”

“Right.” Dary didn’t seem convinced but kept the blankets high over both of you while he reached across your head, snagging both of your bags by the small strap at the top. He dragged them over and riffled through them, swallowing convulsively while pulling out shirts for each of you. “Got ‘em.”

“Okay, this might be a little tricky, but it’s doable.”

It was indeed tricky, but it was also indeed doable. The blankets were over your heads as you changed, with your originally planned giggles easily shifting into real ones. Thumper had joined the party and seemed to be aiming for their dad’s crotch each time your bodies touched. You could have sworn you heard a huff of a laugh from Daryl a couple of times as well. With a chuckle of hold still, you made sure the buttons of your partner’s shirt were even and patted his chest.

“All jizz free.” You whispered with a nod, feeling his fingers brush your skin while he pulled your pale blue, long sleeved t-shirt down to cover your belly.

“Gross.” 

“You say that like it’s been in your mouth before.” The look on his face had you laughing out loud and Daryl throwing back the blankets before the others could assume anything more was happening. The archer clambered off the bedroll and stretched, then held out a hand to you. You swatted it away. “I’m gonna stay here for a bit. My back hurts.”

“Whatever.” He shrugged. “M’goin’ huntin’. Ya stay close to ev’ryone else, ya hear?”

“I will. I promise.” When you met his eyes, they were full of such softness that you could almost feel it on your skin. He was taking each promise you made to heart and trusting you to keep them. And you would, even if staying inside made your skin crawl sometimes. Hell, being outside made your skin crawl. With the hormones taking over, you were fighting a losing battle, so you might as well choose the side that kept you and Thumper safe.

“Alright then. Be back ‘fore dark.” Daryl grabbed his crossbow from against the nearest wall, brushing a hand over the top of your head before it latched onto the top of his bag to hoist it off the floor, his gaze still meeting yours. “Promise.”

So this was a thing now. Promises between you. It both terrified you and filled your heart to the point of nearly bursting. You gave him a nod whilst fighting back the tears you knew would come the moment he was out of sight. He didn’t need to worry that he’d done something wrong. And he would because Daryl was still learning how to process anything that didn’t hurt. He was definitely still working on his social skills if his bark of what’re ya lookin’ at toward Glenn was anything to go by. Both he and Maggie looked at you with wide eyes but you just waved it off.

“Ignore him. He doesn’t know how to people. You know that.” 

“Well, he sure knows how to Y/N.” Maggie chided, smiling as she sat down next to you. You chuckled nervously, struggling to sit up so you could shove the dirty clothing into your bag.

“Shush. We just get each other and it was a long road to get to this point. Plus, I think he likes Thumper just a little.” The baby was active, already missing Daryl’s presence which would never cease to amaze you. “Who’s doing laundry today? I’d like to help.”

Maggie was already shaking her head before you could finish speaking. “Daddy needs to check you out. You’re almost 36 weeks, Y/N. You could go into labor anytime. Ask him what you can do and what you can’t and then we’ll worry about laundry.” You made a whining noise in the back of your throat and almost plopped back down on the bedroll but thought better of it at the last minute. It took so much effort to sit back up.

“Fine. Can he come now?” You sighed.

Maggie gave you a comforting smile and squeezed your shoulder. “Sure. Let me go get him.”

You nodded with a tight-lipped smile. She was absolutely right. Thumper’s arrival was growing closer and closer by the day; the hour even. And you were scared. What if something went wrong? You’d seen in the movies that the baby could get stuck. The cord could be wrapped around their little neck. Your pelvic structure could prohibit a natural birth and you would need a cesarean section. Were there even supplies for that? What about sedation or local anesthetic? What if Daryl decided then that it was all too much and ran? You couldn’t do any of it without him, you knew that now. 

“Easy, young lady.” Hershel soothed, already having knelt beside you at some point. “You’re white as a sheet and hyperventilating.”

“S–sorry. I’m okay.” You stammered, leaning back on your hands so he would have access to your belly. “Just— I’m scared shitless, Hershel.” As per usual, his steady hands hovered until you nodded your permission for him to roll up your shirt. The moment the cool air hit your skin, there was movement below it, a hand or foot pushing up hard enough that you could actually see it. 

“Well, they’re definitely active.” The old man chuckled. “Let’s see if we can check the heartbeat around all that wiggling.” You laughed but it was real, muffled by the fear welling up in your chest. “Well, the heartbeat is great. I need to do an examination, both external and internal. I will explain everything before proceeding. Would you be alright with that? We can go in the downstairs bedroom with Maggie or Beth if you would be more comfortable.”

Maggie was already leaning in the doorway with Glenn, giving you a nod that she was fine with being present. “Yeah, okay.” You started trying to get up on your own but that proved to be futile. Before you could even ask, Glenn was holding out both hands. “Thank you.” You whispered. This was all so personal and it felt like you shouldn’t be going through any of it alone. “Has—did Daryl leave already?”

“He may still be outside. Rick grabbed him for something. I’ll go check.” The words came out so fast that you barely caught them before Glenn was gone and Maggie was helping you lie down.

“I mean, can this wait if he isn't here? I don’t—” The tears came before you had any means of stopping them. You couldn’t sit back up without assistance so you just pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes and sobbed, chest heaving and body trembling. You wanted Daryl, after trying so hard to prove you could handle things without him. You needed him.

“The hell’d ya do to ‘er?!” 

You had never been so relieved to hear that irritated tone. Gasping for air, you reached blindly for him, his hands wrapping around your forearms to pull you up and against his chest. 

“Nothing, son. We were going to do an exam to check the baby.” You opened your eyes to see Hershel standing several feet back with his hands up, palms out. Maggie wasn’t glaring but she looked serious, ready to defend her father. “It would be invasive and she was frightened. We wouldn’t have done anything without her permission.”

“I just—wanted you—I wanted you here.” You hiccupped, gripping his shirt tighter. There was a jerk of his body and then the sound of the door closing. You were alone with him.

“M’here.” He didn’t move other than to pull you in tighter, the hold would have been uncomfortable any other time but it was exactly what you needed at that moment. “Wanna tell me what happened?”

“He—he needed to do something inside. It wasn’t that—I didn't think he was gonna hurt me and Maggie was here, but it just felt like something you should be here for too. Like a huge event in all this.” You sniffled, wiggling a hand free after a bit of struggle so that you could wipe your face on your sleeve. “I’m sorry, I know you wanted to hunt.”

“Nuh uh. Wanna be here more. The fuck he need to go inside for?” Now he sounded more than irritated, as if Hershel was trying to take advantage of you in some way. 

“There’s gonna be a lot of that, I think. I mean, if everything goes well, the baby’s coming out of my vagina, so I guess he needs to be all up in there to make sure it’s ready or something? Doesn’t it mention this in one of your books?” You pushed against his chest, but he hesitated in letting go. Finally, he dropped his arms but kept a hand on the top of your stomach. Thumper’s movements slowed to flutters.

“Ain’t had much time for readin’, Sunshine.”

You were in the middle of rubbing your eyes when you slid them to the side, your nose scrunching and mouth tilting into a smile. “Sunshine?”

“S’that or ‘pain in my ass’. I ain’t picky.” He huffed, picking at a thread on his tattered button-up. 

“I’ll take Sunshine, thanks. You’re adorable, Daryl Dixon.”

“Ugh, don’t get sappy.” He curled his lip, pulling away when you reached for his face.

“You already took it way past sappy, sir.” When he kept that small distance, you grabbed his collar and tugged him forward to press a kiss to his mouth. He reciprocated without hesitance, a small reassurance you reveled in when it came to your relationship. “Thank you for not running.”

“Ain’t a pussy. Told ya from the get-go that we’d handle it.” His forehead was against yours, the tip of his nose nuzzling your own. “Called ya Sunshine back then too.”

“That, you did.” You recalled the memory fondly. God, he was such an asshole back then. Still was in some ways but he was yours. You distantly wondered if he always had been. “Just needed a little help bringing out the inner romantic.”

“Don’t push it. Don’t got a romantic bone in my body.” 

You hummed, done with teasing him for the moment. “I guess we should let Hershel do what he needs to and get it over with.” You bit your lip, sliding it back and forth between your teeth. “Will you stay?”

“Course.” His knuckles gently grazed your jaw and then he was up and opening the door, jerking his head toward you to invite them back inside. “Don’t make ‘er cry again.” He warned, taking his spot beside you and helping you lie back.

Hershel only smiled. “I’ll try my best, son.” Maggie wasn’t there but came in, carrying a bowl of water and a cloth, before the old man could do anything. “There’s a couple of things I need to examine. First, I’ll do an external examination. I’m going to palpate your abdomen, feel the position of the baby. At this stage in the pregnancy, we want to ensure the baby is turning into a head down position. They should come out head first, not feet. Is it alright for me to continue?”

You nodded quickly. With Daryl there, the anxiety was held at bay. The man formed a physical wall between you and the fear that wanted to suffocate you, whether he knew it or not. He was watching intensely as your shirt was lifted, the veterinarian’s hands moving with a knowledge you were surprised to find he possessed given he had only dealt with animals. He was likely reading just as Daryl had, probably more. 

You winced when it seemed he was squeezing around the baby’s form, though the touch was gentle, feeling Daryl tense beside you. Your hand found his immediately and he settled. 

“Ev’rything good, doc?” The archer’s voice was just shy of a snap. He muttered an apology when you squeezed his fingers.

“It seems the baby has mostly turned to the correct position. Have you felt any increase in pelvic pressure or need to urinate?”

“She’s been pissin’ like a racehorse for weeks.” Daryl huffed, earning an elbow to the ribs.

“No more than usual.” You clarified. Hershel nodded.

“It’s unlikely that the baby has dropped then. I have limited experience with human patients but I have had wives that gave me children. When they dropped, it was described to me as a sudden weight deeper in the pelvis. They could breathe easier and felt hungrier, as there was more room in the upper abdomen. The need to urinate increased even more than it already had throughout the pregnancy.” You were nodding, Daryl was squinting, soaking it all in and filing it away. “Just let me know when you feel those changes, okay?”

“Okay.” You answered quietly, this time feeling Daryl squeezing your fingers.

“This next part will be invasive, and I’m sorry for that. I need to check your cervix, see if it’s softening or dilating.” When Daryl didn’t comment, you were sure those were terms he had read. You vaguely knew what they meant from the movies you had seen. “I can have Maggie remove your—”

“I got it.” Daryl interjected, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles before releasing your hand. You watched him move, biting your lip when he pressed one knee between your feet and reached to grab the waistband of your layers, bringing all three down in motion. You had to think of anything else to keep Hershel from seeing what Daryl had the ability to do to you. Placing your clothes by your feet, the bowman cleared his throat. “Make it quick.”

Hershel smiled and shook his head while washing his hands with the soap and water Maggie had brought but he said nothing about Daryl’s protectiveness. Perhaps he understood how fragile the archer’s ability to handle his emotions truly was, and with that knowledge, he saw no reason to put further strain on the young man.

“I’m going to begin the pelvic exam now. It might be a little uncomfortable.”

“Okay.” You took a deep breath, closing your eyes with a smile when Daryl’s arm wiggled beneath you to wrap around your shoulders. Hershel was right, it truly was uncomfortable. It wasn’t at all like what you had imagined, which to be quite honest, you thought it would be more like being fingered by Daryl. This was in no way pleasurable. First of all, it was Hershel. Secondly, there was pushing down just below the baby while at the same time, moving two fingers. It wasn't just uncomfortable. It was really uncomfortable. At one point, you whimpered ow and had to grab Daryl’s forearm to keep him from lashing out. 

Finally, it was over. Hershel was washing his hands again. “The cervix is softening, which is exactly what we want at this stage according to my reading. You’re not dilated, which is also what we’d like right now. That could begin to change in a few days, and that would be okay. There’s no way of really knowing exactly how far along you are but based on what I know of you, and keeping up with the calendar the best I could, you are right at 36 weeks.” You nodded, smiling softly as Daryl reached forward to push your knee down, urging you to close your legs even while he never looked away from the old man. 

“That’s good, right?” You asked, struggling to sit up until Daryl looped an arm behind you again and easily got you there.

“That’s wonderful. It’s my opinion, which isn’t the best mind you, that you could safely have this baby anytime now.”

You took a deep breath and nodded, watching all the color drain from Daryl’s face beside you. “Daryl?”

“You alright, son?” Hershel’s expression showed concern but his eyes were laughing. He knew the look on Daryl’s face and he knew it well. “It’s okay to be nervous. You’re a first time father. It will be—”

“G’on, old man. M’fine.” 

You chuckled. “Thank you, Hershel. I feel a lot—” Moving to sit up straighter, you looked down when you felt cold against your skin. Two quarter-sized wet patches were clear on your pale blue shirt, just over your nipples. “What the hell?” Even Maggie’s eyebrows were raised. Daryl just looked as puzzled as you did.

“That’s colostrum.” The old vet answered as if you knew what the fuck that meant. “It’s the first thing your breasts produce to feed the baby when it’s born, before the actual milk comes in. This is a good sign that your body is getting ready.”

“Like—soon?” You gulped.

“It doesn’t have an effect on the timeline, one way or another. It just means your body knows what it’s doing. You may want to ask for some breast pads on the next run or just fold some cloth for your bra.”

“Wait—so that wasn’t cum?” It was out of your mouth before you had processed a single word of it. Hershel’s brow furrowed, Maggie doubled over laughing, and poor Daryl was three seconds from jumping out the window. “I’m just—oh god, just leave us to die in here, thanks.” You could still hear Maggie laughing after the door closed but luckily she had nodded in reaction to your pleading look to keep it to herself. When you looked at him, Daryl's elbows were on his knees and his face was in his hands. You could see the red flush traveling all the way to his ears. “It wasn’t jizz. Yay?”

“Just—stop talkin’.”

“I love you.” 

“So ya keep sayin’.”

[gtsdreamer2]

   You were deep in the Amazon rainforest. A recent graduate with your mycology doctorate, you were researching a special species of mushroom that only was said to grow deep in the jungle and only during the twenty four hours of the full moon during the autumn months. According to ancient texts found in the indigenous people's temples, the mushroom was used in fertility rituals and to signify a bountiful harvest during these months before the cold winter. You were curious about the cultural significance as well as the medicinal properties of this rare shroom. You didn't know what it looked like, only that it wasn't foraged for by the locals anymore and that it should look like a mushroom that you don't know.

   Hours of searching later, you begin to grow tired and wonder if you should give up and wait until the next full moon. The sun is starting to set when you finally spot something different. It's a mushroom you've never seen before, which is remarkable seeing as how you've seen them all. The cap is a pinky flesh color with an even pinker button on top. You giggle to yourself as you remark that it looks like a tit with a firm nipple poking out of it.

   Kneeling down, you take out your notebook and a pencil and begin to sketch it. 'I'm just drawing a boob.' You think to yourself. You stare in awe at this shroom as the sun continues to set. Taking your pencil, you poke the nipple-esque protrusion. Immediately this mushroom expells a giant cloud of spores right in your face. You gasp in surprise, sucking into your lungs an ample amount of the potent plume.

   You hack and cough, but its way too late for that, they're already lodged deep within you and entering your blood stream. Your eyes dialate and your body grows hot. You stand and lean against a tree, trying to catch your breath. You can feel your heatbeat in every nerve. Your cells are responding in a way they never have to the new foreign agent that has begun to take over you. Your heatbeat concentrates in your breasts as you feel your nipples grow almost painfully erect. Then you feel your breasts start to press against your soft white cotton top. You can feel the belts on your corset tighten to try and contain whatever is happening to you. Suddenly you shoot up four inches in height.

   Your sudden growth spurt elicits an a forced maon from your mouth. "Mmmph!" You cry out as a second wave hits you. The belts on your corset snap and suddenly you're six foot five with the seams of your jeans splitting. You feel your feet break free from your hiking boots as your toes sink into the damp rainforest earth.

   'This is starting to feel really good.' You think to yourself as you start to regain a semblance of your normal senses. Doing a body check, you can tell that you've grown. Your breasts have at least doubled in size and are now very hot and sensitive to the touch. You can feel a hunger deep in your womb as if ovulating on steroids.

   You attempt to sit down on the cool jungle floor, your now massive ass shredding the back of your jeans as you squat down. You pick up your pad and pen and continue to make notes about the shroom.

   'It is clear that this is how the Amazon women in the lore of this land gained their stature, and I can clearly feel why this particular fungus was revered for its fertility-inducing properties. I feel so full of life, yet I also feel the need to be bred full of babies.' Looking back at your notes, you are in shock that you actually wrote that down.

   You wonder to yourself how potent the flesh of the shroom might be, considering what just inhaling some of the spores had done to you. As the sun began to set, you walk back over to the shroom and delicately pluck it out of the ground before greedily shoving the whole thing into your mouth, quickly swallowing it without so much as trying to find out what it tastes like. Again the euphoria strikes your body. You feel its effects ten fold as you quickly gain four feet in height and explode out of your inadequate top. Sitting back down on the remainder of your ruined clothes, you bask in the feeling of your massive body and heightened strength and senses. You close your eyes and listen to the jungle around you, lamenting that you ate the only specimen that you had found on your journey, and now the only evidence was what it had done to you. When you open your eyes, the realize that the moon has peaked through the canopy. Your dialated eyes can see the jungle floor quite clearly now, and shimmering all across the damp dense expanse before you, you can see dozens more of the mushroom glowing against the moon, as if drinking in its power. 'It would have been so much easier to find at night.' You chastise yourself as you stand up again. You leave your ruined clothes behind as you pick up your foraging Satchel and start to delicately pick as many of the shrooms as you can carry, trying your best to put them in containers without them expelling more spores. 'This will be so great for my research.' You think to yourself. 'And it'll make a great snack for the walk back'. You giggle to yourself as you pop another three into your mouth.

[frannyzooey]

Short Days,Long Nights: 10

Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: Mature (anxiety, pregnancy, grim mentions of childbirth)

Series Masterlist

A/N: thank you endlessly to @the-ginger-hedge-witch for reassuring me that this isn’t a terrible, no good, very bad piece of writing ❤️ and also, I wanna reassure you that despite the emotions in this chapter, my intention has always been a happy ending for these two. Don’t fret. ❤️

—

Something is off. 

He treads carefully down the path he’s followed for months, his boots leaving pressed imprints in the soft dirt and his eyes scan for signs of life. His mind is back in the cabin where he left you sleeping, your body curled into a tight ball along the edge of his form left on the sheets, and he tried hard not to wake you, though he didn’t have to be too careful given how tired you’ve been lately. 

Sleeping late, turning in early, naps in the middle of the day. You blame the heat, or the boredom, or the way reading makes you drowsy, but even he knows that’s not all it is. 

You’ve been distracted, quiet. Drawing into yourself more often these last couple weeks, he tries to recall if he’s said or done anything, to remember if he himself is the cause. It’s been a long time since he cared about what anyone else thought – definitely since he cared enough to want to atone for anything he’s done – but for you, he sifts through his words and actions.

He knows you so well by now. Knows every tell, every minute shift in your mood. More molecular than reading your body language, the air between you shifts and changes when you’re upset, your face betraying nothing to someone who doesn’t know you as well as he does. You’ve been hiding your face more from him lately, because he knows you must know it’s open for him like his is now open for you. 

The back of your head facing him in the garden, the peek of your forehead over the top of your book, the way you look at him like you’re about to say something, but when he gives you the space, you look away. 

Even at night, you hide your face into the soft crook of his neck to sleep.

He kneels to inspect deer tracks, his fingers brushing aside growth to follow their lead and heading deeper into the forest, the air around him cools under the canopy of trees. The woods are alive with sounds: bird calls, soft chittering, the rustle and slide of leaves, the crunch of his boots as they snap small twigs underfoot. 

Amidst it all, he tries to work out the puzzle of you; his bow held loose in his grip. 

–

Your hands shaking with nerves as you watch him disappear beyond the treeline, you pull your bottom lip into your mouth with a bite and scold yourself for not telling him about your suspicions this morning. 

Or yesterday.

Or the day before that.

You know you could probably keep your secret for at least a couple more months, but there was no point. Everything about surviving here depended on preparing; the sooner, the better, making all the difference between life and death. 

Your palms turn clammy, another rush of bile creeping up your sternum as you run out the cabin door before it comes pouring out into the grass and feeling shaky after, you walk over to the rocking chair on the porch and take a seat, letting your head fall forward into your hands. 

Being forced to confront the concept of your life ending more times than you would have ever imagined over the last ten years, you’d thought you’d be desensitized to it now… but this was a wholly different type of fear. Not so much the idea that you might actually die while going through with this, (which, over the course of the last few weeks has become a much more terrible, terrifying thought) but more the fear of doing it alone.  

Nothing to guide you, no one to help in case something went wrong. You knew that women had been birthing children in their homes for centuries now, many of them in the same exact position you were in – but they had midwives and neighbors who came from afar to help. Other women around them who had gone through it before, advice handed down from generation to generation. Reassurance in the form of knowledge. 

You would have someone, you reasoned with yourself, if you told him. Joel has always been there to take care of you, and you know this time wouldn’t be any different, but how much did he know about this? Even if he knew a little, that information was almost three decades old. 

Another small part of you felt, even though you know he would never mean to make you feel this way, that you let him down. As if you could stop the science of your body and it betrayed you, or that you compromised this entire setup by foolishly ignoring the consequences of your actions. The last couple weeks a brutal reminder that you have been somewhat romanticizing this possibility, that alone carried its own humiliation.

Now faced with the confirmation of it, you were ashamed. And scared. 

This odd mixture of feelings, just like the odd mix of sensations in your body, kept you from saying anything every time you had a chance. He wouldn’t be mad, you knew that, but your hormone addled brain kept conjuring images of his disappointed face and that was almost worse. 

You press your fingers into your eyes, liquid warmth seeping through the digits as you think and you let the tears fall, taking deep, shaky inhales. 

More than anything, you worried about fracturing the bridge that had been built between the two of you, especially given his past. He already lost one child, what if something happened to this one? His perceived failure almost ruined him the first time; a gaping, ten year wound that tore him apart and ravaged his mind and morals. Only now just beginning to heal, what will this do to him?

The thoughts are circular, never ending. 

Will he even want this? Are you unknowingly forcing him into something he’s dreaded? You know he knew the far away consequences of your shared actions, but will he hate you? Will he resent the burden you are? The one you’re carrying, for the rest of his life?

How will you care for it? How will you feed it? Is there enough food prepared for something like this? How will you do this alone? What if it gets sick?

The worries expand and grow, filling your head with a relentless noise that makes you queasy. You think about telling him as soon as he gets back, and a cold sweat breaks along your hairline, running over your limbs. 

Getting up, you lean over the railing and purge your nerves onto the ground below. 

–

Standing in the kitchen, his back is to you and you take a moment to study the broad width of his shoulders. The dark curls that edge around the nape of his neck, the strength held in his solid frame. Cleaning his gun, he’s recounting his day in the woods to you and you are trying so hard to focus on his words, but you can’t. Not while the worries from this afternoon run rampant in your head, clouding everything. 

Still, it’s the image of his back that convinces you to tell him: sturdy, solid, familiar. Those curls are the same you’ve felt in your hands for months: sliding between your fingers as you run through them at night, coiled tightly on the ground before they lifted into the air when you gave him a haircut last week, slicked smooth along his head after a swim. 

You hand wash the clothes on that back, massage the tired, thick muscles of it, stroke the tanned, freckled skin in the sunlight. Dig your fingers into the meat of those shoulders, curl your legs around that torso, feel its broadness underneath you when you straddle him. 

It’s guided you, carried you, the formidable strength in it has made this place a home, and the reassuring reminder of those things forces you to open your mouth. 

“Joel, I –” you start, and he stops talking, turning his ear in your direction. 

“Yea?” His attention is still on his task but he slows, and your gut churns with nerves and anxiety and new life. You take a deep breath and focus on his back; the one that you’ve been following for months, before you even knew who he was. 

“I’m pregnant.”

He immediately stills, his frame locking up as his hands stop what he’s doing. 

When he doesn’t move, you take a hesitant step closer, pushing through the urge to run into your bedroom and hide under the blankets. The air in the room is charged, your heart thundering in your chest and when you take another tiny step closer, he finally speaks. 

“You’re sure?” he asks, resting his hands carefully on the edge of the counter. 

“Yea,” you reply, letting out a breath and trying to ease the tension. “I mean, no test, obviously, but…”

He nods slowly, absorbing the information. 

You stare at the back of his neck, willing him to turn around, but when he doesn’t, shame and embarrassment begin to bloom. Starting in your chest, the emotions take root and your fingers find the bottom of your sleeves and twist into the fabric, the familiar tingle of heat growing behind your eyes. 

Even though you know that both of you had a hand in this, you find yourself apologizing.

“I’m sorry —“

As soon as the words leave your mouth, he turns quickly. 

“Hey — stop. No, don’t say that. Come ‘ere.”

Shortening the distance between your bodies, his face is a worried expression so thoroughly earnest that you step right into his arms, tucking your face into his chest. He gathers you into his hold, his familiar scent of sweat and cotton and woods soothing your nerves, and you lean into him, holding tight. 

“I told you, you don’t gotta say sorry. Not to me.” His arms squeeze tighter, his chin coming to rest on the top of your head. “I was just – I didn’t expect that. I was just thinkin’.”

“That’s all I’ve been doing these last couple weeks,” you admit. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. It’s just that I didn’t know for sure, and then I thought maybe I knew, and then I did know but I was so scared –”

“Shhh,” he soothes. “Hey, it’s okay. S’okay.”

Those words, said in his voice, bring fresh tears to your eyes, not realizing how much you needed to hear them until they were spoken out loud. Only by him, the only person you would accept them from because if he says it’s going to be okay, you know it to be true. He hasn’t failed you yet. 

As if it only just occurs to him to check, he suddenly cups your face tenderly in his hands and makes you look up at him.

“You okay? You sick? How do you feel?”

“I’m….okay. I can’t tell if I’m more sick from the –” you stop short, unable to say the word out loud. Saying it makes it real and you aren’t ready for that yet. “I was pretty nervous to tell you.”

He says nothing, frowning. Searching your face for a moment, he nods as if he understands and brings you back to your place in his arms. 

“I’m not mad at you, honey,” he murmurs. “If anything, you should be mad at me. I’m just as much at fault as you are. More, even.”

Your cheek staying pressed to the hollow of his shoulder, you frown. “How so?”

“I’m older than you are. I know better. I —“

“I know how sex works, Joel. I asked you for it, and I’m just as guilty —“

“I’m responsible for you.” His hand tilts your face up, so he can look you directly in the eyes and the statement is said with a finality that closes your mouth. “I gotta keep you safe — and there ain’t nothin’ safe about this.”

You feel your face start to crumple, your chest heavy with the shared knowledge. 

“No,” you swallow, the edges of your mouth turning into something solemn. “No, there isn’t.”

His expression softens, his thumb stroking the fine hair at your temple and his voice softens too. 

“It’ll be okay, honey. I’m right here.” His hold on your face firms, his eyes silently willing you to understand. “I would never, never let anything bad happen to you. Not ever.”

You both know that’s not a promise that he can make, but the words are like a raft in a storm; you cling to them, holding on with every fiber of your being. 

“You understand?” he asks and you nod, the constant weight on your chest these last few weeks temporarily dissolving. 

Your nod reassuring him, he guides your face back to his chest and with the weight of his broad hand sliding soothingly down your spine, you loosen under his touch. 

Each lost in your own thoughts, the two of you stand there, wound tightly together. 

–

It’s been hours, and he still can’t sleep.

A light breeze catches the curtain and the fabric waves lazily, your body still beside him in the dark room. You took some soothing to come down from the confession earlier, and he stayed by you until you went to sleep: tucked you into his side on the couch, wound himself around you in bed, took you apart only after he got your okay. 

He lays naked, nothing but a thin sheet covering his form but it might as well be a weighted blanket with how his chest feels. It tightens and burns, a crushing pressure settling on top of it. Every breath becomes a pained struggle for air as he tries to stay still so you don’t wake up. 

He doesn’t know anything about this. 

Hazy memories: partial pieces of advice, parenting books and pediatrician visits and the day Sarah was born. Everything blends together in rapid succession: her sharp, bright wail, the team of doctors, her impossibly tiny body, featherlight in his hold. 

He pictures the same thing in this room, but instead of bright lights and beeping machines, all he can picture is blood. So much blood. 

Your face, twisted in pain. 

Your face, crying. 

Your pretty face, pleading for him to help you. 

He tries to pull in air, his hand coming to push against the plane of his chest as the anxiety floods and gathers under his sternum, catching on and coating the muscles there until he’s locked in place. A cold sweat breaks out over his skin and he can barely hear the rapid, shallow pants of his own breathing under the rush of blood through his ears. 

His vision tunnels, the walls of the room disappearing and self loathing creeps into his mind, as dark as the night outside. 

He did this to you. You wanted it, but he knew better. He was supposed to protect you. 

He closes his eyes tight and swallows hard, willing the panic away. 

If something happens to you, it’s going to be his fault. He’s going to fail you, like he failed her. Fail the both of you. 

Reaching out to grasp the sheet at his side as a means to anchor himself, he brushes the back of his hand against your hip and he opens his eyes, turning to face your back. Faced away from him, the soothingly slow rise and fall of your breathing catches his gaze and focusing on the pattern of it, he forces himself to match it. 

In and out. In and out. 

His hand splays over the slope of your waist, curving around your side and the warm give of your flesh reassures him. His vision clears, the softened edges of your shadowed form bringing him back to the room and the white noise filling his head fades, the tension in his chest slowly easing. He flexes his hold on you, his thumb sliding across your bare skin. 

You turn in your sleep, rolling over to face him and lifting his hand just enough to let you move, he rests it back on your side. His thumb drags across your petal soft skin, his eyes dropping down to watch and before he can stop himself, the back of his knuckles brush delicately against the natural swell of your stomach. 

He remembers the fear, but looking down at his hand, something blooms deep within that pit beneath his sternum. Something else, something that’s been lying dormant for years, but when he sees his hand against your bare stomach, it takes root and pierces through the surface of the panic.

Hesitantly, he lets himself feel those things, in the safety of the dark room. 

Anticipation. Joy. Happiness, contentment. Love, that he’d never imagined he’d feel again. 

He feels a version of it when he looks at you right now — a deeper version of it, a calmer one. A steady, anchoring emotion, one that he fought in the beginning but now has given in and gotten used to it. 

The love that he has for you planted within your body, taking root. 

His thumb drags over your belly button, and you shift in your sleep. 

“There’s nothing there yet,” you mumble, the words a soft slur in the darkness. “Go to sleep, baby.”

He hums lowly, his hand splaying to cover your stomach. Fingertip to thumb, it spans from hip to hip, but when you shift again next to him, he reluctantly pulls it away. 

Gathering you as gently as he can in his arms, he tilts his chin down to catch your mouth with his. Sleep warm and soft, you kiss him back and his arm winds around your waist, tugging you close. 

With your belly cradled between the two of you, he falls asleep. 

[junkdrawerfics]

First Vampire

that you know of

Previous

Series of Firsts - part 4

Summary: After that night of internet research, you can't get the thought of vampires out of your head. It takes a week, but you eventually gain the confidence to ask him about it. It's a shocking conversation to say the least.

Words: 1275

---

“If I ask you something, will you give me an honest answer?” 

Jasper glances at you, brows furrowing, “Of course I will.”

You hesitate, picking at a dead leaf by your shoe. The question has been stuck in your head all week, ever since the night you stumbled across that word. You’ve spent every day since trying to figure out how to ask Jasper about it. And honestly, you’ve come up with nothing. Not a single subtle way to do it.

So you’re here, in a very familiar spot. The place you first met him. It looks a little different, with the trees glowing red and orange among the ever green pines, and with no battered kitten this time. Just you and Jasper, tucked close together on that stump you found.

Another difference - last time you were here, you weren’t scared.

Now you are. 

So scared your hands are shaking. But not because of the possibility of your best friend being a vampire. That thought hasn’t scared you for a second, a fact you are desperately trying to ignore so you don’t feel crazier than you already do. 

No, what you’re really scared of is losing him. Even though you’ve only known him for a few months, you can’t imagine life without Jasper. The day you met, something shifted. In you. In the world. The thought of losing him makes something in your heart ache. 

“Darlin’? Everythin’ alright?”

His shoulder brushes yours, the warm drawl of his voice wrapping around you like a blanket. It brings you back from the mess in your head. His eyes are set on you, molten gold swirling with unbridled concern. Of course he’d worry. Because that’s just who he is. Sweeting, caring, absolutely amazing Jasper.

Vampire or not, you can’t lose him. You just can’t.

“Promise me something?” You request quietly, leaning into his shoulder.

The blond nods, leaning right back into you without a word.

“Promise me that we’ll stay friends no matter what.” Your voice shakes, like your hands, and you can’t bring yourself to look away from them.

Jasper’s face softens. He can feel how nervous you are, not that he needs his ability to tell. Gently, so gently, he brushes his fingers across your cheek, drawing your wide, doe-ish eyes up to his.

“I’ll be here for as long as you want me, darlin’,” he murmurs, cool thumb brushing over your heated cheek, “That’s a promise.” 

You let out a deep, stuttering breath, tension dripping from your shoulders. Hearing him say that settles every anxiety buzzing in your chest. You’ll be okay. Everything will be okay.

So you might as well get it over with, right?

“Are you a vampire?”

Jasper’s touch stills on your cheek. You glance between his eyes, catching the faintest flicker of surprise before he schools his expression into something practiced, calm. Biting your cheek, you have to hold tight to the promise he just made to keep your worries from flooding back.

When Jasper does speak, his voice is calm, quiet, “Would that scare you?”

He watches you carefully, eyes slightly narrowed, almost…uncertain? You’ve never seen Jasper uncertain. He’s always been so confident, teasingly cocky at times. Seeing him like this sparks something strangely protective in your chest.

“No,” you answer without hesitation. You could never be scared of him.

Jasper blinks, another spark of shock flickering across his face. That’s not the answer he expected. He wasn’t sure what to expect. He knew it would come to this, you were too curious for your own good, but Alice wouldn’t tell him what would happen, wouldn’t even give him a hint to how you’d react.

And out of all the possibilities, this is not the one he imagined happening. You, sitting here, looking up at him with determination gleaming in your eyes. Not an ounce of fear, just something desperately hopeful. Something like love.

For a moment he almost thinks his heart starts again.

“You really are something’, aren’t you darlin’?” He breathes, features melting into a smile as he shakes his head. “I don’t know why I expected anythin’ different”

Your brows shoot up and so does your voice, “So it’s true?”

The blond nods, all too amused at how taken aback you look You stare at him owlishly, disbelief swirling with relief, which just makes you that much odder. What a strange human, he thinks fondly, with maybe the poorest survival instincts since Bella.

“So, wait, how- So you’re a vampire. Vampires are real. Are all of you- is your whole family?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And Bella?”

“She knows,” he admits, and you look even more boggled, “Though, I’d like to point out I kept our secret longer than Edward.”

You snort, “How long did he last?”

“Few weeks at best.” He smirks. It’s something he’ll hold over his brother for all eternity.

“Wow.”

You can barely process it. Even though it’s what you suspected, a part of you never thought it could be true. But you’re not crazy. And Jasper is a vampire. They’re all vampires. Your pulse jumps. Does that mean-?

“We don’t drink from humans,” Jasper says, as if reading your thoughts, “My family, we’re…different from others of our kind. We like to call ourselves vegetarians.”

You tilt your head. “Vegetarians?”

“We only drink from animals,” he explains with a humorless chuckle.

Something settles in your chest. You never thought Jasper would hurt someone, you never thought any of the Cullens could, but what are you supposed to think when faced with the reality that vampires exist? It’s a whole different world, one you thought only existed in books, and now you’re living in the middle of it.

“This is insane,” you sigh, slumping into his side, head resting against his shoulder.

Jasper stiffens immediately, but when you don’t move, when you still show no signs of fear, he slowly wraps his arm around your waist, drawing you closer. Warmth spreads across your cheeks.

“You’re takin’ it better than most. Makes me worry,” he hums, squeezing your side teasingly, “You sure you didn’t bump your head, sweetheart?”

The touch sends all your thoughts jumbling, the heat spreading down your neck, “I know it sounds crazy. I’m like freaking out inside, but also not, and I just- I don’t know. You’re my best friend and I love you, and I don’t want things to change, so-”

You freeze. 

You said that. Out loud. To Jasper.

It almost feels like summer with how your whole body flushes. Slowly, you drag your eyes up to his face, to see if he caught what you said, and if the wolfish smirk tugging at the corner of his lips tells you anything, he definitely did.

“If that’s the case,” Jasper drawls, voice teasing as he draws you closer, “I can finally ask you on a proper date.”

“What?” The word comes out as a squeak.

Your brain is short circuiting. Like, completely shut down. Forget the vampire thing. Jasper, your Jasper, the sweetest, most charismatic man you know, wants to take you on a date?

“Now that you know our secret, I’d like to take you on a proper date,” he repeats, and it’s just as unbelievable the second time. “I’d like to pick you up, take you to a nice dinner, and kiss you at the door when I drop you off.”

You inhale sharply, “Yes.”

“Yes?” 

“Yes.”

And just like that, the same day you learn about the Cullens being vampires, you get asked out on your first date with Jasper Hale. A date you immediately go home to get ready for.

You don’t know which part is crazier.

---

Next

Not sure about this one, but I thought it was fun. I hope you guys enjoyed it!

[mouschiwrites]

Creepypasta/MH - How They’d Ask You Out

Characters: Eyeless Jack, Nina the Killer, Clockwork, Jane the Killer, Tim/Masky, Brian/Hoody

Eyeless Jack

I don’t think it would take him too long to ask out someone he liked

As long as he was sure that he really did like them, and that they didn’t hate him or anything, he’d be comfortable at least asking

He would bring flowers for sure

He’d show up at your door late at night, bouquet in hand

“Would you care to join me for a walk?”

You’d stroll through the woods, talking a bit about yourselves

It’d be a pretty deep conversation, both of you staying serious as you exposed vulnerable parts of yourselves

He’d hint at being romantically interested in you, but he’d wait until you were back at your house to pop the question

“You’ve probably noticed by now, but I really do think you’re amazing. I’d love it if you’d be my partner.”

If you say yes he’ll be absolutely radiating joy and he’ll promise to treat you well before bidding you goodnight

If you say no he’ll understand, thank you for your time anyway, and disappear into the night

He’s okay staying friends, but he’ll be sad about it for a while

Still, your companionship is more important to him than being yours

Nina the Killer

It won’t take long at all for her to ask out someone she’s interested in

As soon as she knows she can trust them, she’ll go for it

She’ll use something homemade to actually ask the question

Like a kandi bracelet that says “be mine?”

Or maybe a cake she baked herself

Either way it’s bound to be something decorative made with lots of love

She’ll find you at school/work/home and tell you she has something to show you

She smiles hugely when she reveals her little project, but inside she’s buzzing with anxiety

“So..? What do you say?”

If you agree she’ll literally drop whatever she’s made and throw her arms around you

She will proceed to take you out shopping to buy something to commemorate the occasion

Matching shirts, bracelets, a new piercing, maybe even a pizza to share

Just a little something to celebrate :)

If you say no she’ll be devastated

“Oh… well, thanks anyway…”

She probably won’t talk to you for a while, if ever again

Clockwork

She’d have to know you for a VERY long time beforehand

She has trouble trusting people, as well as trouble finding someone she’s genuinely interested in romantically

You’d know pretty much everything about each other by the time she decides to ask you out

That just means that she knows the way to your heart though

She’ll make a beautiful sketch of you

Maybe there’s some gore incorporated, but hey, if you’ve stuck with her this long you’ll be used to it

You’ll be hanging out one day, her drawing and you distracted by something else, and she’ll suddenly tear a page from her sketchbook

She hands you the drawing while saying:

“Hey, Y/n, so… I really like you. You’re my dream partner. I want you by my side always.”

If you agree to be her partner, she’ll grin, turning back to her sketchbook with a little pinkness on her cheeks as she mumbles “cool”

When you leave she’ll peck your cheek before slamming the door in your face, giddy that she had the courage to do that

If you reject her, she’ll frown

Probably won’t want to be friends anymore :(

She just doesn’t want to be around someone she loves knowing they don’t love her back

Jane the Killer

I think it depends on the person when it comes to Jane

If you guys click really well, she’ll probably try to advance the relationship quicker than if your relationship started off rocky

But either way she’s going to plan something romantic

She’ll buy you something nice and deliver it in secret

Like, one day you’ll just find a box of chocolates or a necklace with a note attached telling you to meet her someplace

Personally I like to think it’d be a blossoming cherry tree, or perhaps a scenic overlook

You’ll find her there waiting for you, hands fidgeting nervously behind her back

She’ll get straight to the point:

“Y/n, I like you. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, but if you do… wanna be my girlfriend?”

If you accept, she’ll get a huge smile and run over to you, throwing her arms around you and twirling you around

You’ll sit together at the scenic location for a while, leaning on each other with your fingers intertwined

If you decline, she’ll just nod with a sad smile

She’ll be sad for a while, but ultimately she’s got other things in her life to worry about, so I don’t think she’ll wallow for too long

Might keep talking to you, might not; again, it really depends with her

Tim/Masky

Another one who’d have to know you a while first

He needs to make sure he trusts you, yes, but he also needs to start trusting himself around you

Once he’s sure that you can both handle yourselves, he’ll take more time to hype himself up to do it

He questions bitterly whether you’d even accept if he did ask you out

Eventually he gets so exhausted from the constant will they/won’t they in his head that he spontaneously blurts out:

“Do you want to go out with me?”

You’ll be taken aback; you guys were literally just chilling in silence

Plus he would’ve given next to no hints that he liked you at all

If you accept, he’ll sigh, slouching severely in relief

Finally some peace of mind… and heart

He’ll murmur a thank you for giving him this peace, but won’t elaborate

If you decline, he’s going to beat himself up about it so hard

He won’t blame you at all; no, every ounce of blame is going into the anvil that he’s crushing himself with

Probably won’t want to keep contact for much longer

Your presence is just a constant reminder of (what he sees as) his failure

Brian/Hoody

He didn’t know you for too long before deciding to ask you out, but he knew a lot about you

If he’s interested in you, he’s going to find out everything he can

He prefers outside sources, but if he absolutely cannot find something he wants to know, he’ll begrudgingly just ask you

That being said, he knows how to charm you

He’s a pretty naturally charming person regardless, but he wants to do something special just for you

He’d leave a gift for you; something he knows you love

Jewelry with your favorite gemstone, your favorite flowers, a nice new fluffy blanket… something on the luxurious side

Plus a note saying:

“Y/n, please be mine. With love, Brian”

He’ll approach you later and ask for your response

If you agree, he’s got a whole nice evening planned out already, and he’s more than eager to take you on this first date

If you decline, he’ll probably “cut contact”

I use quotations because he’ll probably still keep tabs on you in secret for a while

He’ll get over it eventually, but until he does that’s his way of coping

Thank you for reading!! Take care of yourselves pumpkins <33

(divider by saradika)

[trashsketch]

Alright! I wanna talk about my thought process behind this crazy detailed piece I made for the hxh adventures zine in 2018! Get ready for plenty of closeups and references.

So the @hxhadventures zine was the very first fandom zine I've ever been accepted in, which was huge for me back then, considering hxh is the first ever fandom I've been deeply involved in! So I was like 'damn...i gotta bust my balls to make a super good piece cause there's so many amazing artists working on this thing.' I will never make a piece this detailed again, probably LOL this took me...so many weeks.

I knew I wanted to make something regarding Yorknew City, and thought back to the marketplace that Leorio and Killua and Gon visited while waiting for Kurapika to get back to them. It reminded me a lot of Mongkok's markets when I visited Hong Kong a few years prior, so I worked with some references from there.

As for what goods would be sold in the stall...well. I was really figuring it out all as I went. After a while of thinking, I decided on drawing a bunch of little references from anything I could remember from hxh. References to characters, places, important props...nevermind that it didn't make sense that the characters were stepping into a shop that was basically meta, it just felt cool as hell to include anything I could remember from the nights when I binged the manga and anime.

Let's start from the top right:

These chinese animal lanterns are references to the 12 zodiacs! And I had to include the blimps that the main cast moved around in from the anime.

As we move lower:

Top row, left to right: Knuckle's nen, Shoot's nen, Knov's glasses, Palm's necklace of knives, Togashi and Naoko dog and rabbit bags (the first of 3 instances I would place them in this drawing)

Bottom row, left to right: Bisky's nen, Netero's nen, Morel's pipe, Kite's nen.

And on the rest of the rows on the wall:

From top to bottom, left to right:

Row 1: Pitou, Pouf, Youfi, Komugi, Meruem, various Gungi tiles

Row 2: Kurapika's nen (the rest of his finger chains from the manga), Leorio's nen (the fist that he used to punch Ging with), Gon's nen (since it's based off jankenpon), Killua's nen (just a lightning bolt lmao), Palm's crystal ball, Hisoka's cards

Row 3: Togashi dog, Naoko rabbit, a (very tiny) representation of the W and E books from dark continent expedition arc, the starting tower of Greed Island, the Hunter symbol.

Row 4: Black whale ship, Heaven's arena tower, I...forgot what this tree was meant to be LOL, the World tree that Gon climbs to see Ging, 1999 anime hunter license, 2011 anime hunter license.

Moving on lower! We have:

Top row: Togashi and Naoko again as plushies, the Greed Island book, a postcard of Whale Island, the Greed Island end prize card case.

Bottom row: Various characters as dolls, a reference to Hisoka viewing everyone as dolls.

And now on the bottom right:

Some of these are various plushies from Alluka's room (it was mostly filler)

And last, but not least:

On the left we have a hookah pipe, because Kurapika was smoking it in the 1999 anime:

And the ring that Gon is pointing at is the ring that they later used as a prize for Leorio's plan!

[heyiwrotesomethings]

So, your requests are open, huh? Cool, could you write a shinoby x demon reader who feasts off of strong negative emotions? And that's why they're so attracted to Shinobu? Enemies to lovers fluff is always the way to go :>

Bottomless Well

Shinobu Kochou x They/Them Demon Reader

A/N: AAAAHHHH so much longer than I would have liked but it’s finally done! Sorry if there are more errors than usual, tumblr is breaking because of how long this is. Anyways, enemies to lovers with a bit of angst but it all works out in the end thanks for reading, hope you like it! Word Count: 5,928

There was a sense of danger that clung so thickly to the air that (Y/n) could taste it. Normally, they would make themself scarce when the presence of a skilled demon slayer was felt, but the taste of danger wasn’t the only thing the demon could feel sparking against their tongue.

A deep-seated hatred, disgust and coveted anger that seemed to know no end. (Y/n) wasn’t even close enough to feed off of the feelings properly, and yet they could feel themself growing stronger. It had been weeks since they had found someone suitable feed off of, and whoever was sharing this mountain path with them tonight could easily sustain them for the next thousand years.

Their curiosity outweighed their sense of caution. They needed to see the vessel of these powerful, negative emotions. They had never tasted such flavors at this intensity before. Even at the risk of their head, it would be worth it to trail this human at least until they made it to Tokyo. The big city promised an abundance of bitter souls to draw energy from. Though compared to the extraordinarily deep well of this single human, (Y/n) thought that even the entire population of Tokyo would be lacking in comparison.

They tip-toed from tree to tree, slowly gaining on the soft footfalls shuffling the dried leaves that littered the rugged earth. A tentative peek around a sturdy pine revealed the back of a small woman, hair tied up with an ornate butterfly clip, sheathed blade peaking from beneath her haori as it billowed slightly in the breeze.

“Wow,” (Y/n) murmured, “how does someone so small carry so much spite?”

The woman paused, and (Y/n) ducked back behind the tree trunk before they could be spotted. They held their breath until they heard the woman start walking again. They waited until the footsteps began to fade before picking up their pursuit once more.

They were delighted to find that when dawn threatened to light the sky, the slayer decided to rest. Hopefully she would rest most of the day, that way (Y/n) could easily catch up to her again when the sun went down once more, though now that they had honed in on the anger this woman kept, she’d probably need to travel at least halfway across the country for (Y/n) to lose her now.

The woman took a spot where the sun would would make first contact and (Y/n) took cover beneath the thick pine trees, close enough to study the woman further, but not close enough to be discovered, hopefully.

(Y/n) keen ears caught the woman’s tired groan. She leaned forward and rubbed at her face and (Y/n) hummed sympathetically. They wondered how long the slayer had been on the road. Where did she come from and where was she heading? Was she on her way home or was she heading towards her objective?

(Y/n) continued to ponder these questions, among others, as they watched the slayer rest in the sunlight for the next several hours.

“Finally!” (Y/n) stretched and stumbled out of the thick woods when the last sliver of sun faded away.

The demon slayer had left about an hour before sunset so they had some ground to make up. However, that distance was easily closed since they were energized by the their previous proximity to the woman’s fury.

They knew they were close when they heard metal scraping against metal and a wild yowl. (Y/n) spied on them from behind a grove of bushes. The demon slayer was fighting a lone demon and by the looks of it, she would easily win. Her movements were methodical and at first (Y/n) wondered what the point of those quick jabs were, but it soon became clear.

“Poison?” They marveled, watching the other demon collapse and choke with morbid fascination. That woman was really not one to be trifled with.

They watched her flick the blood from her blade, but then their eyes wandered beyond the butterfly woman to the tree limbs above.

“Above you!” (Y/n) shouted spontaneously, ducking below the shrubs, placing their hand over their mouth much too late to be effective.

The demon slayer’s head jerked to where (Y/n) hid within the bushes before craning up to the trees, finding two more demons who screeched angrily upon being discovered. They descended upon the demon slayer, but as with their fallen companion, they stood no chance. With impressive speed, the slayer disposed of them both.

She flicked her blade clean once more and dutifully checked her surroundings, including the bushes, but found nothing.

“Hello? Where did you run off to? You can come out, I don’t bite.”

Somehow after watching her kill three demons without breaking a sweat, (Y/n) found that hard to believe. Especially if she found out they were a demon as well. Since those deaths by poison seemed less than pleasant, they would stay hidden.

It took a minute, but the woman finally shook her head and sheathed her sword, then went on her way. (Y/n) peered around the rotted tree they had crouched behind and watched her go. When her back was swallowed by the shadows of the trees, they began their pursuit once more.

For a demon slayer so full of hate, her voice sure was soft.

Another day another night, (Y/n) followed the slayer across the countryside. In another couple days, they would arrive in Tokyo. (Y/n) was almost sad to be losing her unaware companion, but it was a dangerous game they had been playing and the slayer seemed to grow more paranoid as the hours dragged by.

Another nightfall, another night of playing catch up, yet something felt different about this night. It seemed like the demon slayer hadn’t made it very far at all despite leaving before sunset as she had done previously.

(Y/n) grunted, mildly annoyed. The slayer’s essence seemed to follow no set path, it surrounded them like a fog. They closed their eyes and parted their lips, inhaling deeply to try to find the thread of where the negative emotions were strongest.

Finding a promising lead, they followed, the negative emotions grew stronger, but (Y/n) had yet to catch sight of the slayer again. Then they saw a strange shape hanging from a tree branch and went to investigate it. On closer inspection they saw that it was the demon slayer’s haori.

“What the hell is she up to?”

And then (Y/n) suddenly found themself in the dirt their arms pinned painfully against their back.

“So my suspicions were correct.”

(Y/n) grit their teeth in pain and twisted their head to the side to look up at the demon slayer they had been trailing for the last handful of nights. A knee dug further into the base of their spine, a warning not to make another move.

“How long have you been following me exactly, demon? And to what end?”

Well this was intimidating. (Y/n) had known they had been playing with fire, but they weren’t dead yet. The demon slayer had made a mistake by not running her poisoned nichirin through them the second she had the chance instead of choosing an interrogation. Had she discovered them on the first night, she could have done away with them just as easily as those other demons from a few nights prior, but since (Y/n) had harvested a steady intake of the plentiful negative emotions lurking within her, they were leagues stronger now. But they would let the slayer think she had the upper hand for the time being. They weren’t too confident they could free themself without accidentally hurting her. They were unused to being so strong.

“It’s been a little less than a week, but I meant you no harm.”

“Am I really supposed to trust the word of a demon?”

“Well, why’d you ask if you aren’t going to believe me anyway?” (Y/n) retorted with snark.

The knee at their back added more pressure and their arm bent at an even more uncomfortable angle.

“Ah! Hey, take it easy!”

“Then explain yourself.”

“I’m trying! But you aren’t a very good listener!” (Y/n) huffed. “I was only following you until you got to Tokyo, or until you got off the path at least.”

“Tokyo?” The demon slayer was unmoved, “Fancied yourself a feast, did you?”

“Truthfully, yes, but probably not in the way you’re imagining. I get all the energy I need feeding off of the negative emotions of humans. You carry a very substantial amount, ergo, why I chose to follow you. There really isn’t anything else to it.”

“Again, I find that hard to believe. I doubt these negative emotions you chase are organically occurring. Do I look like I harbor anything of the sort?” The woman’s smile was sugary sweet, but (Y/n) was not at all fooled.

“Oh come on! You are a blistering inferno! I don’t know who hurt you, but they hurt you badly. You probably know more than anyone that there is plenty of grief and fury in the world. I don’t need to harm anyone to find someone upset with their lot in life. They’re an ordinary occurrence. But I have to say, I’ve never met anyone like you before. Your well is bottomless.”

The demon slayer hummed, but by her eyes alone, (Y/n) could tell she was still doubting them.

“Demon,”

“My name is (Y/n).”

“Demon,” the slayer began again, “how many people have you killed?”

What an unfair question! You’d be hard pressed to find a demon who hadn’t killed or maimed at least one human before they gained some control and introspection.

“I haven’t killed anyone, but I did severely injure a friend of mine at the time when I first turned. I’m not trying to excuse what I did, but—“

“Would you say you attacked them with the intention to kill?”

“I wasn’t myself, like I said I had just—“

“I think I’ve heard enough.”

(Y/n) heard the scraping of a blade leaving its sheath and decided the time to act had come.

With a careful kind of strength and speed, they flipped the script on the slayer, pinning her to the ground in a similar position that they had been in seconds before.

“Okay, you’ve had your fun. Now it’s my turn to talk!” (Y/n) growled. “Yes, I hurt someone I cared about. The fear and pain and betrayal they felt fed me more than the chunk I took out their wrist. But I don’t fondly look back on it as one of the ‘best’ emotions I’ve fed on. When I think of them, it’s about how they tried to help me and I repaid them by shredding their tendons. How they probably had to give up on their ceramist apprenticeship because of me. I left them every yen I owned, but I know it will never make up for what I did.

I haven’t hurt anyone since. In fact, I usually go out of my way to help people when I can. Like when I warned you about the demons about to pounce on your head the other night.”

“How do you help people when you feed off of their misery?” the slayer asked. Her voice though soft, held an undertone of bite to it.

“By feeding off of their misery.” (Y/n) went on to explain further, “I’ve discovered that if I feed on the negative emotions of a single person long enough, their well dries up. Not permanently, but until the next upset comes along at the very least. That’s why I want to go to Tokyo, there it’s always something.”

“You’ll make it to Tokyo over my dead body.”

The slayer’s voice sent a shiver down (Y/n)’s spine. They felt her shift her legs beneath them and heard a dual schwing! behind them, giving them enough time to narrowly dodge the knives that had apparently been built into the slayer’s footwear. She was very resourceful, they’d give her that much.

“Alright, knife shoes, that’s enough for me!” (Y/n) shouted, jumping back several feet, “This will be where we part ways. Wish I could say it was a pleasure, but actually having to talk to you was not a treat!”

(Y/n) darted away, really putting their newly invigorated speed to the test. All was well for but a few minutes before the slayer was soaring at them with all the force of a speeding bullet.

“Holy fuck!” (Y/n) felt the displacement of the air as the sword nearly grazed their cheek. “Holy fuck she’s fast!”

They pin-balled through the forest and it almost looked like the slayer —who just had to be a Hashira, had to be!— had (Y/n) right where she wanted them. The edge of a cliff.

“End of the line.” She drawled, fake smile holding on for dear life.

(Y/n) noticed the slayer’s apparent exhaustion and frustration, and smirked.

“Maybe for you, but if you took the time to actually listen to anything I told you, you would know I’m at the strongest I’ve ever been right now and that’s all thanks to you.” They slid their heel over the edge of the craggy cliff, “Not that you’ll believe me, but I promise to use this power for good as long as I have it. Bye-bye, Butterfly Girl.”

“Don’t move!”

But (Y/n) had already fallen. Wasn’t the most graceful dive, but they made it to the river far below relatively unscathed as far as demons go, and with the speed of the water’s flow, they would be long gone before the demon slayer safely made it down.

Shinobu clenched her fists to a knuckle-white hue as she watched the demon float away. They stuck their tongue out at her mockingly before they disappeared around the bend. Taking advantage of her solitude, Shinobu swore,

“Damn it!”

She had never been so embarrassed! If the other Hashira found out about this, she would never hear the end of it. That demon wasn’t even part of the Moons! She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, then another. She fixed her hair back into place, her mind already made up. She would kill that demon after she had some time to recoup after spending so much time away from her estate.

“Run all you like, but I know where I’ll find you.”

***

“Oh! Missed again Bu-Bu, you’ll have to do better than that!” (Y/n) taunted.

“I will be sure to make your demise the most painful I’ve ever crafted.” Shinobu smiled tightly, veins fit to burst.

(Y/n) just had to learn her name after months of this cat and mouse chase and craft the most asinine nickname Shinobu had ever heard. Even Kanae would have known better than to ever utter something so childish.

“Sure, as you said the last time you made the trip to Tokyo, and the time before that, and the time before that—“

Shinobu pulled a throwing knife from her sleeve and tossed it at (Y/n) with wood splintering speed, luckily (Y/n) saw it coming, despite it being a new trick Shinobu had brought along. Shinobu grit her teeth together. No one could bring her fury to the surface like (Y/n) could.

“Don’t you think you’ll ever grow tired of this? Don’t you have more important things to do?” (Y/n) sighed, “Don’t get me wrong, I look forward to your visits but I can’t help but think your time would be better spent elsewhere.”

“It is my duty as a Hashira to destroy every demon the crosses my path, and that is just what I’ll do.” Shinobu dropped down I to another stance and burst forward in hopes of scraping (Y/n) just the tiniest bit, that’s all she needed! But again, (Y/n) avoided her.

“Come on, Bu-Bu, I’m sorry that I’ve damaged your pride time and time again, can’t we just start over? I think we’d make a pretty good team in all honesty.”

And (Y/n) was serious. Try as they might to dislike Shinobu, whenever they felt her arrival in the big city, they always went looking for her. They just couldn’t help but be drawn to her and the angst she shouldered. As hard a time as they liked to give her, they thought Shinobu was rather remarkable.

“Call me that one more time.” Shinobu dared.

“…Bu-Bu— AH!”

Shinobu pelted a barrage of knives and needles at (Y/n)’s retreating back as they sprinted and dove out of the alleyway, startling a pompous looking rich couple strolling down the street.

“Sorry, ‘scuse me! Trying not to die!”

***

Shinobu didn’t know what to do. She hated to even consider the possibility that this was a battle she could not win. She accepted long ago that (Y/n) really did feed off of the negative emotions of others and since that was the case, it was very likely that she could not be the one to kill the demon, simply because her well was much to deep. It pained her to say that (Y/n) was correct. As long as her anger remained unchecked, she could not defeat them.

Maybe it would be best to hand this self-imposed task to someone else. Kanao could probably overtake them… but Shinobu knew she would not be satisfied unless she ended things on her own terms. How could she lessen the hate within her so that she could utterly destroy (Y/n)?

Then Shinobu got an idea. A new approach. An insane approach.

What if she made an effort to befriend the demon? Maybe she could trick herself into lessening that hatred. Shrinking her well and thereby weakening (Y/n) enough to possibly defeat them on her own. At this point, she had no other options but to cut her loses and try to forget the infuriating demon and Shinobu was no quitter.

With that, she began planning her next trip to Tokyo with a renewed vigor. Who knew killing someone with kindness could be taken so literally.

***

“So let me get this straight…” (Y/n) rubbed the back of their neck, “You want a tour of the city and you want me to give it to you.”

“Yes.”

“But… why?”

“I was just thinking it’s been such a waste chasing you around. I’ve been all over this city but never stopped to take it in. You’ve been living here for months now, so I figured you could show me around. Does that not sound favorable? Didn’t you say you wanted to extend an olive branch?”

(Y/n) hummed, amused, “Are you sure this isn’t some elaborate scheme you are trying to pull that’ll render me worm food?”

No. “Yes, no tricks. I promise.” Shinobu held out her hand, then subtlety rolled her eyes when (Y/n) eyed the limb suspiciously. She rolled up her sleeves, “Completely bare, see?”

(Y/n) pursed their lips in thought before nodding in acceptance, a shy smile working at their lips as they reached their hand out to grasp Shinobu’s in a firm shake.

“Alright, what would you like to see first?”

“Surprise me.”

(Y/n) was a surprisingly competent tour guide bursting with information about themself and the sights around them. They had begun by telling Shinobu about the small village they had come from and how much of a culture shock it was when they finally made to Tokyo. They had never seen so many people and there were so many lights that it almost made night seem like day. It was very overwhelming at first, but they got a hang of it.

After wandering around for some time, (Y/n) asked Shinobu if she was hungry and took her to a ramen hut that was wildly popular.

“I’ve heard all sorts of great things about this place. If eating regular food didn’t make me feel so ill afterwards, I would be all over it! You have to let me know how it tastes!” They beamed excitedly.

Shinobu had to admit it was very good and well worth the wait.

“Hey Bu— Kochou, you’re a smart, science-y kind of gal. Do you think that a cure for demons is possible?”

“…I suppose it’s not out of the realm of possibility. Though I’d say it’s unlikely. It’s not something I’ve spent any time studying anyhow.”

“I see,” (Y/n) sighed, “you know, another reason I came to Tokyo was because I heard that there was a demon around here who was researching a cure, but I think she must have skipped town. It makes sense I guess. It’s a dangerous business trying to defy, ya know… so if a nobody like me heard about a demon doctor in Tokyo she must have packed her things and left the second her cover was blown. It’s still aggravating though, I really wanted to try to help her out.”

After Shinobu finished her meal, (Y/n) paid for it before she could retrieve her pouch.

“I thought you said you gave away all your money.” She recalled.

“I did, but I got myself a job that even comes with boarding! I only needed a place to protect me from the sun, but I thought I’d send the money I made back home to provide a steady income to my friend but the letters kept getting returned to me unopened so I’m kind of stuck with the cash…” They ran their hands over their clothes uncomfortably but put on a brave smile, “Well, anything else you’d like to do? The night is still young.”

They made their way down the bustling road, (Y/n) being the one to keep the conversation going most of the time. Shinobu made an effort to listen to at least pretend to be interested and file away any information that could actually be important moving forward.

She was distracted by a woman calling for someone as she clumsily navigated her way across the street. (Y/n) turned to greet her, seemingly familiar with her. Shinobu watched the interaction curiously.

“I just wanted to thank you for helping me the other day!” The woman bowed profusely, shoving a box of assorted treats into (Y/n)’s hands.

“You don’t need to thank me for anything, really. Somebody needed to step in.”

“Even so, please accept these as a token of my gratitude.” The woman shifted nervously before quickly kissing (Y/n)’s cheek before running back into the crowd.

“What was that about?” Shinobu asked.

“I, uh, punched a guy that was trying to feel her up. You probably don’t agree with the way I chose to go about it but,”

“No, I probably would have done the same. Good on you.” Shinobu half-heartedly praised.

“You mean it? Phew, I thought you’d be all like, ‘you mustn’t ever raise your hand to a human no matter the reason!’ or something.”

“I don’t sound like that.”

“You kinda do. Anyway, I would love to see you punch a guy. Just really wipe the floor with some jerk who really deserves— Hey! Watch out!”

(Y/n) disappeared from Shinobu’s side in a second and she heard an awful crunching sound and turned to the street. She saw a young boy on hands and knees, a temari rolling slowly away from him, and just a little further to the left, (Y/n)’s forearm had caved in around the hood of an oncoming automobile, stopping it in its tracks.

“Are you okay?” They asked the boy before checking in on the passengers of the vehicle. The obviously intoxicated driver shook an angry fist at them before puttering off at a much slower, jerkier speed.

Shinobu approached the scene, prepared to check over the boy for injuries. He clearly scraped up his palms and knees and was crying woefully.

“It hurts doesn’t it?” (Y/n) smiled sympathetically, “Here, I know a bit of magic that will help the pain go away.”

Shinobu watched the demon make a whole manner of nonsensical hand gestures and noises that made the weepy boy giggle and then with a deep inhale, the boy blinked, suddenly he didn’t feel so bad.

“You really are magic.” He whispered with awe.

“It’s our secret, okay?”

The boy made a show of zipping his lips and throwing away the key.

“Kochou, do you have anything for his scrapes? I can take care of the pain, but not the actual injuries.”

“Of course.”

She patched the boy up and (Y/n) retrieved his temari. Together they helped reunite the boy with his worried mother.

“Are you always so busy? Or are you putting on a special show just for me?” Shinobu asked.

“Not at all! I may feed off of negative emotions, that I’ll sit by if there is something I can do to make it better.”

“I recall you saying something similar before I suppose.”

“Oh, so you do listen to me. I wonder sometimes.” (Y/n) teased.

“Just take me to our next destination, please.”

“You got it, Bu-Bu.”

“Quit it.”

***

Another handful of months go by, more than a year since she first tackled (Y/n) to the ground and Shinobu knows she’s in too deep. Her plan was to marginally taper her hatred for (Y/n), not fall in love with them! Try as she might to ignore it, (Y/n) had shown their merit time and time again and grew on Shinobu like lichen on sturdy stone.

They were genuine, goofy, sweet, a pain in the ass, and Shinobu was smitten. There had been a handful of times where Shinobu thought she could do it, she could get the jump on them and end it all for good, but then (Y/n) would smile at her so sincerely or laugh in the way that would make her heart swell and she just couldn’t do it!

She told them things about herself that those closest to her had to twist her arm to get out of her. She just couldn’t believe she had gotten here from where she started, but try as she might to convince herself, she couldn’t say she regretted it.

“Oh great! You found a seat!”

Shinobu tried to temper the blush dusting her cheeks. She still hadn’t quite recovered from (Y/n)’s exuberant appraisal of the yukata she had worn for the occasion. It was a festival after all, why not dress up a bit? No other reason…

“Here, hope you like dango.”

“I do. Thank you.” Shinobu smiled, taking the offering and trying to ignore how her skin tingled when her hand brushed theirs.

They watched the procession of performers carry on down the street lit in a vibrant orange glow from the paper lanterns scattered around, but they kept glancing at each other, nervous for whatever reason. Their hands accidentally brushed when (Y/n) rested their palm against the branch. They jolted apart before cautiously meeting in the middle again.

“Shinobu,”

“Hm?” Shinobu attempted to mentally beat down her fluttering heart, when she saw how close (Y/n)’s face was to hers.

“Would it be okay if I kissed you?”

Already breathless, Shinobu nodded numbly. There had been a couple close calls in the past since they seemed to pull on each other like magnets, but now it was really happening. Or maybe not because Shinobu’s stomach was suddenly in knots.

This whole build up was built upon the fact that she wanted to take (Y/n)’s life. A secret she had kept to this very night. Perhaps if she brought it up when they first entered the friend stage they could have laughed about it, but now it was eating her up inside. She had to tell them.

“W-wait.”

(Y/n) pulled back, apologies ready for being so forward, but Shinobu shushed them.

“Before we continue. I must tell you something important.“

“What is it?” (Y/n) asked, shifting uncomfortably.

“My intentions towards you have not always been pure.” Shinobu swallowed. “When I first approached you under the guise of offering an olive branch, I was really coming at you as a Trojan horse. I intended to get close to you, in order to bring down your guard and lessen my hate towards you in hopes to more easily destroy you.”

“Oh.”

“Instead I accidentally fell for you. It’s rather ironic, isn’t it?” Shinobu chuckled, attempting to lighten the weight of her very heavy confession.

“Yeah,” (Y/n) chuckled dryly in return, looking down at their feet, “you must be disappointed.”

“I grappled with it for a while, but I got over it.” Shinobu slid her hand out to find (Y/n)’s again, but to her surprise they stood up before their hands met.

“I’m sorry falling in love with me was such an awful thing that you had to fight with yourself over it.”

“(Y/n)?” Shinobu stood as well, reaching out for them only for them to back away.

“Well, in a way I guess you still succeeded. I don’t think I’ve ever hurt this much.”

“I didn’t tell you this to hurt you, I just wanted to be transparent with you.”

“You had plenty of time to be transparent! When did you start to actually care? How much of the time that I look back fondly upon were you actually thinking about when to stab me in the back!”

“(Y/n), please,” Shinobu beseeched, but (Y/n) shook their head.

“I think I better go.”

“Wait—!”

Shinobu reached out to grab them but they were already gone.

***

Shinobu had searched for (Y/n) in all the usual places. She even waited outside their place of work, but their boss sourly told her they had been missing their shifts. They wouldn’t leave Tokyo without telling her, would they? She had looked in all the usual places, asked people for any hint of their whereabouts, but received no leads. Thinking about it now, (Y/n) always seemed to be the one finding her, not the other way around. (Y/n) probably tracked her through their abilities and this meant that if (Y/n) didn’t want Shinobu to find them, she never would.

Broken hearted, she returned home and the girls noticed the somber fog she brought home with her. She appreciated their attempts to cheer her up, but nothing would keep her from her brooding for long.

Day after day she wallowed, barely keeping up with her work because as long as she appeared to be functioning on the surface, people left her alone for the most part. She’d lay in bed, languishinging away. Stewing in her sadness and growing frustrated with herself. She was not Tomioka, she wasn’t the type to lay in a dark room all day and wonder, ‘why me?’ She took charge! She kicked ass and took names! She saw a butterfly in the garden that reminded her of (Y/n) and cried about it for twenty-five minutes…

Shinobu was absolutely miserable.

Taking note of the time, she took a deep breath and heaved herself out of bed to allow herself some time to fix herself into something resembling a functioning human being before she headed to the lab. She had been working on finding a cure for demons lately and though she really had no need to continue, except for maybe Nezuko she supposed, she couldn’t bring herself to clean up and pack away what she had worked out already. She wondered how long that demon doctor (Y/n) had mentioned had been searching for a cure.

As Shinobu dragged her feet through the halls, she heard a commotion. She was content to ignore it, thinking it was probably just the rowdy boys coming back from their latest missions until she heard someone shouting about a demon.

A demon on estate grounds was unheard of, especially during the day.

Shinobu ran passed the lab and through the sea of Kakushi frantically running about, yelling to quickly find her or Kanao to deal with the matter.

“Everyone be quiet!” She heard Aoi yell from somewhere within the chaos. “Remember the protocol! Get to your stations!”

The crowd thinned enough for Shinobu to make her way outside. Kanao was already there, sword at the ready. Shinobu aimed her gaze further ahead to see exactly what they were dealing with her heart nearly fell to her feet.

Underneath a large umbrella, only slightly singed, (Y/n) stood timidly, trying not to do anything that would warrant Kanao’s wrath.

Shinobu moved on autopilot, almost tripping herself a few times because she couldn’t take her eyes away from (Y/n). Her hand managed to find Kanao’s shoulder.

“It’s alright, they won’t harm anyone here.” She assured.

Kanao searched Shinobu’s face before taking a step back. Though she had been concerned with Shinobu’s behavior as of late, she was curious to see where exactly she was going with this.

Shinobu walked on until there was only a few steps distance between them. (Y/n) bit their lip nervously.

“Hey—“

“What are you doing out in the sun?!” Shinobu scolded, “You could die! Get inside right now before something goes horribly wrong!”

Shinobu shrugged off her haori and put it around (Y/n) in hopes of adding another protective layer and quickly ushered them inside.

“I’ve got everything under control Kanao, let everyone know there is no need to worry and to go back about their day, please.”

Shinobu pushed (Y/n) through the halls, finally shoving them into her room and shutting the door behind them.

“Are you feeling okay? Nevermind, stupid question. I know you aren’t.” (Y/n) blew out a gust of air and closed their umbrella.

“How did you know where to find me? Why did you come back?”

“Well, after I stopped feeling sorry for myself I thought about what you said. It wasn’t fair for me to run off on you like that, and avoid you in the days that followed. I went looking for you then, but I guess you had given up. I didn’t know how I could find you again to apologize, but then I started feeling your emotions again so I thought you came back. I followed your sorrow, and followed and followed, bought an umbrella, kept going, and then I wound up here.

I’m so sorry I left you alone like that. I obviously hurt you a great deal. Can you forgive me?”

“I think we both both have our fair share of blame. I forgive you. And I’m sorry, do you forgive me.”

“Yes, of course I do.” (Y/n) took a step forward and rose their arms halfway, hesitating. “Um, would a hug be okay?”

“Get over here.”

Shinobu grasped (Y/n)’s wrists and pulled them forward into a right hug. She relaxed into (Y/n)’s body when their arms wrapped around her.

***

“Darling, I already fed Fugu today.” Shinobu told (Y/n), taking the fish food from their hand and placing it back on the shelf.

“Are you sure? She looks hungry.”

“She is trying to deceive you. She knows you’re an easy target.” Shinobu smiled, pulling (Y/n) out of their room by their hand. “Come along now, it’s a full moon, and you said you wanted to go on a walk with me, didn’t you?”

“Yeah!”

They walked hand in hand through the cool night, the moon illuminating the path, occasionally deviating from the path to share a few stolen kisses along the way. Though Shinobu’s well of anger was far from empty, the love they shared helped make the pain much more bearable.

[sessakag]

Now all I can think about is Prey!Papa-Naruto because it would be the wildest funniest thing ever! Poor Hinata is probably trying to make sure her kids grow up to be good morally upstanding people and Naruto is just….Yeah 😬. Funnily enough this Naruto probably wouldn’t have as much of a contentious relationship with Boruto because there’s no way he’s putting work above spending time how he wants 😭. And as a Kawaki hater I’m pleased to say I don’t see this Naruto being altruistic enough to take in some random abused kid so really we’ve got my ideal version of the Uzumaki family 🫢. Anyway, I bet parent-teacher conferences and kiddy playdates and birthday parties are gonna be fun times 🤣. Speaking of bday parties happy early birthday! I hope it’ll be a fun one.

Daddy Prey!Naruto is the funniest thing ever, lol.

For sure, Naruto would spend time with his little mini-me. Who would stop him?

I feel like Boruto would be very aware that his father is a homicidal nutjob and spend his time trying to keep innocents out of harms way, but he does it in ways that are just as bad as his father, because of course, the apple doesn't fall that far from the tree, and that he has this huge blind spot to when his own inner crazy is starting to show, lol. And of course, mess with his mom or baby sister, well then, you'll have a hard time telling Naruto and Boruto apart at all🤭he'd justify his violence and the bodies in his closet because Prey!Narupapa taught him that delusion is just another way to say correct, and there's nothing wrong with customizing your own reality when it's convenient. He'd also spend so much time trying to undo Hima's worst tendencies their dad is teaching her in an effort to help his mom out, but ends up making it worse by teaching her "alternative" tendencies that are just as bad but much more slicker than his father's open bluntness, which ultimately, makes Hinata's job harder, lol. Poor lady, I can see her trying to explain the situation to her crazy husband. Hinata: I'm trying to make sure the kids have a moral compass, Naruto Naruto: The fuck they need that for?

I'll be honest, I really don't know all that much about Kawaki since I don't watch the show, but his design is very cool, and the clips I've seen of him on youtube I vibe with🤭but Naruto being altruistic and adopting a poor orphan? Not fuckin likely at all, lol. Prey!Naruto wouldn't care about any kids but his own🤷🏽‍♀️so you're all set for sure, lol.

Parent-teacher conferences would be lit af😂imagine Naruto's big buff tatted up self sitting in one of those itty bitty chairs at a table lower than his knees while the teacher tries to get him to understand that it's not a good thing that his little girl is drawing her classmates with their heads somewhere other than on their shoulders🤣he would be so insulted and have a very scary diatribe about why Hima's work is "art" not a "red flag". The teacher would resign the next day by the time he was done. Omg birthdays🙈One word: Pinata. Take that as you will, lmao!

And omg, I wanna write Prey!Naruto at a PTA meeting, lmao! And you'd think Hinata was the one that dragged him to it, but NO, he'd go on his own because he's a super paranoid bastard that needs to know what is going on in his orbit and that includes his hellspawns, and if he doesn't like what he hears he'll have to retire a few folks to ensure things are being run for the benefit of his offspring😂

Hima's not doing a kiddy playdate, study date, pretend date, any date. Over somebody else's dead body would Naruto allow his baby girl to do any sorta dating🤣hell naw, and don't @ him about it. End of discussion. Why? Because Naruto knows how guys are, and considering the things he does to Hima's mother on a regular basis, he's dead set on not letting any guy near his daughter until she's at least 80 years old, if she's lucky. Teen!Hima good luck trying to date or get a boyfriend😅especially since big brother's not gonna be too keen on the idea either, lol. And thank you for the early birthday wishes!!💕

I feel like this SOL Prey!Naruto family is set in stone to be a thing at this point, lmao. I'm certainly sold on it. I won't say whether or not I plan on Hinata getting knocked up in Prey, ya'll will have to wait and find out but I definitely think this should be a full SOL fic at this point, lol. It's just too good to pass up🤭

[outsidersandlostboys]

We’re on the fifth one now (I think)

Thank you all on your support of these! 🤟

-

Y/n: You look like a mess

David: very funny pick on the guy WHO CAN’T SEE HIS REFLECTION Y/N GEEZ

Y/n: Therapy. Therapy is your Christmas gift this year.

-

Y/n: Fire is just chilled out electricity

Dwayne: Y/n I don’t think that makes sense

Paul (high): nah it makes total sense bro

-

David: you’re music taste is overrated Y/n

Y/n: and so is smoking but I’m not judging you for the fact that you could stop smoking and could still have lungs left in your decaying body.

David: …

Star: Damn Y/n..

-

Marko: I wanna eat drywall, it looks crunchy

Paul: dude, it would taste so good, and it’s like eating those dipping candies

Y/n: *bites wall* I’ve been lied to

Dwayne: Y/n what the fuck

-

Max: I don’t play favourites

Y/n: then why is there a drawing from Dwayne put higher up than Marko’s and David’s? In fact why is Paul higher up than David?

Max: …They were placed like that randomly..

Y/n: Dwayne isn’t even a golden child! Yesterday he flipped all your shirts inside out and then tried to hide a spider in the closet!

Max: but he doesn’t smoke

Y/n: oh really?

Dwayne: *high as a kite* Whoa, were your walls always this white Max?

Max: fucks sake

-

David: I take pride in being the badass one

Paul: and I take pride in being the goofy one

Marko: Being cool looking is mine

Dwayne: I take pride in being taller than any of you

Paul: that’s weird dude

Y/n: yeah take that you tree

David: you’re at least to his shoulder Y/n, I wouldn’t be surprised if you turned into tree stump

Y/n: I hope your blood circulation sucks

-

Y/n: I ate a penny

David: Y/n, What. The. Fuck.

Paul: what did it taste like?

Y/n: blood

David: WAHT?

Dwayne: like metal you mean?

Y/n: yeah but I don’t think we have copper in our blood

David: how the fuck do you know what specific metals are in our blood but decide to eat a penny?

Y/n: why not?

Marko: yeah David why not?

David: …

David: I’m going to strangle all of you

-

Paul: I got stabbed

Dwayne: what?!

David: how the heck did you get stabbed?!

Paul: well a guy came up to me with a knife and I said “what are you gonna do? Stab me?” And he did

Marko: well I mean he did stab you

Y/n: yeah I dunno what you were expecting him to do…

Paul: obviously kiss me y/n jeez

Y/n: oh shit, you right

-

Thank you all for your support on these, I really love making them ❤️

[fieldofdaisiies]

I Like You 

ship: Elucien type: angst word count: 2,6k warnings: none summary: Elain decides that she is ready to make a move towards Lucien. And yes, it is a bit sad. [read on ao3]

"His name is Lucien."  "I don't care what his name is…You are his mate. Do you even know what that means?" "It means nothing. I don't care who decided it or why they did-" "You belong to him." "I belong to no one. But my heart belongs to you." "I don't want it."

Do you even know what that means?

Does Elain know?

It does not mean that she belongs to him. She is not Lucien's possession and though Grayson would have never believed that, Elain knows it is true (it has taken her a while as well to understand).

Lucien would never claim her without her consent, he would never make her his, call her his, without her wanting to. He would break the bond, just so she could be happy. He would do all of that, just for her. Just for her to find happiness. Because Lucien…Lucien is a good male. Lucien is…good. He is so very good in his heart and soul. So good.  

Elain leans against the cool windowsill, her figure framed by the muted light filtering through the rain-slicked glass. Her gaze moves to the garden below — her garden. Where there used to be beautiful, flourishing flowers and plants in spring and summer, there is now a grey cast to the light. The lush green leaves of the trees have turned red, orange, and yellow, they glisten with raindrops, the landscape behind them grey. Autumn. 

Although it is the season where plants and flowers go to sleep, rest, and sometimes wither, it isn't her least favourite season. It is quite the opposite actually. She likes autumn, yes, so very much. It is when nature shows, just like in spring, what it is capable of and it mesmerises her. It astonishes her. 

As she looks out into the garden, she contemplates the withered roses. Is she one of them? A flower that once bloomed so happily, but now is empty of joy and life. Are the roses a reflection of her own fading hope and happiness? 

Elain draws in a deep breath and wonders. How did her joy and contentment turn into such bitterness and made this deep void appear in her chest where once her steadily beating heart used to be? 

The questions weigh heavily on her, a burden to her omce joyful soul. 

For such a long time, she blamed the loss of her happiness on a male who had absolutely no fault in her misery. It wasn't Lucien who betrayed her and her sisters. It wasn't Lucien who forced the mating bond on her. It wasn't Lucien who—

Lucien had absolutely nothing to do with it, and he also can't change anything about the situation she is in. The only person to change something is Elain herself. She can change something. She knows this now and it has taken her a damn long time to realise that. 

She knows she hasn't been fair to him — to her mate. Knows that how she acted around him was not alright. 

The rain intensifies for a moment, and she watches as it beats against the glass of the window.

Elain wonders if he ever thinks of her, or how often he does. How much he is affected by her actions, if he is just as…sad as her. As empty as her…

The mating bond inside of her is dim, robbed of life, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. It is there, and it connects their souls. And she now knows that just like herself, Lucien was forced into this. He would have never chosen her if he had had a choice…

A sudden gust of wind that rattles the branches outside fetches her back to the moment, inside her cool room. She blows out a long breath.

He is here for a few days, she knows this, and she will take this chance to finally talk to him. She can't avoid talking to him forever. What sense would it make? It would be childish and idiotic if she kept ignoring him until the last day of their immortal life. 

They finally have to talk, and maybe this rainy autumn day is perfect for it. 

With a heavy sigh, she turns away from the window, her heart still heavy with sorrow and also shame. The rain continues to fall as she walks away from the window, feet a little heavy. She slowly, so very slowly, slips out of the door, not minding that she is still only dressed in her nightgown, hair undone, falling over her back in loose waves. 

This talk only considers honesty, sincerity, and not her brushing up for it. She doesn’t need to put on a mask, she wants him to see Elain. The real Elain.

She wants to show her true colours to Lucien, put her cards on the table, and finally have the talk with him they should have had months, years, ago. 

Outside the door to his office, the one Rhysand has provided Lucien with, she halts, collecting her thoughts. Elain inhales. One deep breath. Then another. And another. Her knuckles are placed on the cool wooden door, but she doesn’t knock, just lets her hand rest there. And that for a while.

She calms her mind, closes her eyes. She can hear it…can hear his heartbeat behind the door. She can feel it, feel him and the rhythm tells her that his own soul is a reflection of hers — cold, empty, sad. 

She draws in one last deep breath, and then knocks. The answer comes immediately, and for a moment everything blurs, her head feeling dizzy to the sudden rush of blood in her ears. They are finally going to talk!

She opens the door, slowly, and then steps into the room, immediately being greeted with warmth and the scent of fresh apples and cinnamon.

Lucien is sitting at his desk, his strong back on display for her. He seems like he is very concentrating, not even turning around to see who has knocked on his door.

She looses a breath, gathers all her courage and opens her mouth.

"I know you probably hate me…" Elain starts, her tone a breathy whisper, her voice trembling.

Slowly, Lucien turns in his chair, his brows lying in furrows. He does not answer her immediately, just looks at Elain…at his mate. She is fidgeting with her fingers, gaze downcast, a sad expression on her face. Not only sad, maybe even a little ashamed. 

The Vanserra male braces his forearm on the backrest of the chair, and swallowed around the lump that has formed in his throat. She is a picture of misery and he feels a sudden urge to remove all the sadness from her only to see her smile.

"I never said that I hated you."

Her breath catches, her gaze searching his when a kernel of both relief and a hope starts to take root inside her chest. "Well…" Elain releases a short breath. "That is…I actually like you."

At the revelation, Lucien's features soften, so does his gaze, his shoulders relaxing visibly. Once again he says nothing, waits for her to find the right words to continue. 

"And I know that I haven’t been fair to you…that from the first moment on I haven't been fair to you. How I acted, what I have said and not said to you, nothing of it was fair. But—"

"You don't need to justify your actions, Elain."

Elain. The word, her name, reverberates through her mind, his voice so soft when he said it, like it is the most beautiful thing in the world. Like there is beauty within her name. And hope. Like he likes saying her name.

"I didn't blame you for your actions, and I would never do so. What had been done to you, turning you into fae, ripping you away from your old life…that is what wasn't fair. It wasn't just."

Slowly, almost hesitantly, the Vanserra male rises from his chair, only taking a few steps towards his mate in order to not make her nervous. He doesn’t want her to feel uncomfortable in his presence, he only wants to be a little closer.

Elain runs her eyes over him. He is a beautiful male - the most beautiful she has probably ever seen. But just like his heart, his body is marred by things that happened to him. Unspeakable things. Things she wants to remove from his skin, from his heart, from his mind. She wants to take the pain away from him. Also the pain she caused him. With her indifference. And her ignorance.

"I never meant for anything like this to happen to you. I never meant for us to be mates. I know what it means, and if I—" "Could choose another, you would." Elain swallows thickly. All of a sudden her throat feels very dry, her eyes starting to burn a little. 

But Lucien shakes his head. He searches her gaze, hoping that his eyes, sincere and gentle, can convey more than words can speak. "That is not what I meant to say."

Elain holds his gaze, and pulls her lip between her teeth, waiting. 

"If I could turn back time and have us meet under different circumstances….I would do it."

It is Elain's turn to furrow her brows. She slowly unclasps her fingers and is now the one who takes a step closer to Lucien. "Under different circumstances we would have never met. You are fae and I am—was mortal."

"I meant if we had met without a mating bond involved." 

"You think you would have cared about me without a mating bond?" A deep crease is etched into the centre of Elain's forehead. 

"Yes, yes I would have." He is so sure, so sincere, it makes Elain's heart skip a beat, now beating in the same rhythm as his. She can hear it, feel it. 

"Why?" she asks, not quite sure about her question, but it leaves her before she can think about it any further. 

"Why, you are asking?" A small, barely-there smile appears on the Vanserra male's face. "Because you are wonderful. Delicate and smart. Gentle and observant. You have the purest soul I have every seen, you find beauty in the smallest things. You are calm but not in a bad way. You, only with your presence give me a feeling of comfort and solitude. You make a place feel like home simply with being there. And—don't cry." 

The corner of his mouth ticks, one brow raising. Elain quickly brings a hand up, wiping her thumb over her damp cheek. 

"How…how can you say all these things, you don't even know me?" Elain asks, her voice a little shaky and breathy. 

"I am observant," he says matter-of-factly and whatever small part it is of her heart, it starts to heal.

However, she shakes her head, almost like she can't quite believe his words, like it feels surreal that someone notices these things about her. Everyone has always called her beautiful, delicate, charming, but no one has every truly looked beneath the facade. Until…Lucien. 

"And even if there wasn't a mating bond, I would have seen those things. And I would have…liked them about you. You are…I was enchanted by you the first moment I saw you, captured not only by your beauty, but by what is lying beneath. The soul glowing inside of you, the heart beating so vividly for the people you love."

Enchanted. The word reverberates through Elain's mind, and she as well, has to admit, feels enchanted by him. Not only now, she has felt that way for months. Maybe even years. 

"I like you." She repeats what she had said at the beginning of their conversation. "Although I've never shown it, although I've ignored you most times. Although I've always been reserved around you, and might have looked intimidated. But it is true, I do like you. A lot, in all honesty."

A warm smile, edging on a smile of relief and hope, graces Lucien's face. He draws in a deep inhale, and slowly releases it. His arm lifts a little, hand extended to Elain. "Come sit with me," he offers, using his other hand to point at his table with one chair and one stool next to it. 

Elain accepts, silently, although her movement speaks volumes. She carefully and slowly, lets her hand slide into his. It is so small in Lucien's broad hand, his palm so warm against hers. Her skin so soft, his calluseed.

Their hands fit together perfectly, almost like they were made for each other. And probably they were — they are mate's after all. 

The first connection of their hands elicits a sparkly, tingly feeling where their skins touch, both of them feeling it. A small noise of surprise leaves Elain, and she turns her head, looking up at the male beside her. He is so tall, his shoulders so strong, his body nothing but sculpted muscles, but in no way does he seem intimidating. Quite the opposite actually — it makes her feel safe, secure, protected. 

Lucien must have noticed her gazing, he stops and turns to look at her. She is so short compared to him, even on her tip-toes she will barely reach his shoulder. Nevertheless her radiant presence fills the whole room.

"Are you alright?"

"Didn't you feel it?"

Lucien is unsure of what she is aiming at. 

"The sparks," Elain adds, her cheeks gaining a little bit of colour. She bites down on her lower lip, wanting to avert her gaze, but she doesn't. She keeps eye-contact with him, getting lost in the depth of his eyes — one of russet and one of metal. 

"The sparks?" Lucien repeats, a hint of amusement in his voice. But it fades the moment, a small pout appears on Elain's lips. She is thinking he is mocking her. It wasn't his intention. 

"I felt it, my lady. I did." He is voice is stern now, sincere, and conveys everything needed to ease her frustration. And it is the truth. He feels tingly sensation as well!

"And your heart, my lady. I can heart it. Beating rather fast."

"That's what you do to me." Elain wants to slam her hand over her mouth, her traitorous brain making her speak before her mind gets a chance to think. "I mean—I meant—"

But Lucien shakes his head, moving their clasped hands up and over his own heart. He places her palm flat onto his chest, nothing but corded muscles beneath his linen shirt. His own palm is placed atop hers, and when Elain's mind finally comes to a rest, she can feel it. She can feel his heart, beating quickly but steadily, in the same rhythm as hers. She allows herself to close her eyes, relishing in the feel of him, the warmth his body radiates, his shallow breaths that tingle her skin lightly. When has she moved so close to him?

She needs to tip her head back to look up at him. Lucien is already looking at her, his features warm and soft, almost like he feels fully at ease in this moment. In her presence.

"There is a lot for us to talk about and I understand that this is not easy, and it will take time. I appreciated what you did today. Onwards, we do this at your pace, my lady. And at your pace only." Lucien smiles. "You tell me when you are ready to talk about everything. If we do this in 200 years, it is fine as well. But I want us to talk about everything. Share everything. And for us to figure out a way how to go forward. Together." 

Elain's hand trembles the slightest bit beneath his. "I want to start now." 

She closes her eyes and draws in a deep breath. "With thanking you for giving me your jacket when I was cold and afraid and you were the bravest of them all to walk over to me and help me."

~~~~~~~~~~ tags: @rippahwrites @shadowhunter2003 @my-inner-crisis @ladyelain @acourtofthought @itwasalwaysaboutthetea @multifictional @moonlightazriel @brekkershadowsinger @sunshinebingo @gracie-rosee @a-frog-with-a-laptop

[mamawasatesttube]

OOF. There are so many good prompts on that list, I could barely decide! But I feel like I gotta go with “They’ll find me, they always do.” Preferably as spoken by Kon?

Kon doesn't know where he is.

Well—okay, he has a vague idea. It's... a box, somewhere underground, designed for holding Kryptonians. Designed for breaking Kryptonians, if he's entirely honest; courtesy of Luthor, of course. The walls are twofold, with all the air pumped out of the gap between the layers so that he can't hear anything from outside, and the strange, uncanny silence alone would be bad enough without the darkness, away from any sun.

The only light is, of course, the fucking kryptonite.

It's getting old, he thinks woozily. How many times is Luthor gonna pull this kinda shit? Does he really think he can break Kon's spirit just with a little (okay, a lottle) physical misery? Does he really think Kon will ever give up any of Kal's secrets just 'cuz of some pain, misery, and humiliation?

Admittedly, having to hand himself over for a bunch of civilian hostages just to get slapped with a kryptonite fucking collar is pretty heavy on the humiliation front, but still. Kon's a goddamn joke. He can take being a laughingstock.

He heaves a sigh, closing his eyes. At least the floor is cold and soothing against his flushed cheeks; the hot flashes are better than the cold sweats, so he's grateful, for the moment. He just has to outlast this, that's all.

At some point, the loudspeaker in the ceiling crackles and jolts him out of his doze. "You look pathetic," Luthor informs him. Kon musters up the energy to raise a middle finger to wherever the infrared cameras in here might be. "Classy as ever, Supernova. You could end this anytime, you know. And frankly, you owe me your existence; you'd think you'd be more grateful than this."

Kon rolls onto his back just to raise a second middle finger to the ceiling, too.

Luthor sighs. "So stubborn. Why do you insist on drawing out your suffering? There is only one way this ends, and we both know that."

"Yeah," Kon mumbles. He's too tired and achy to keep his arms up any longer, so he lets them fall back down to his sides. "There is. They'll find me. They always do."

Judging by the hiss of breath, Luthor doesn't care for that answer. Kon smiles despite the burning under his skin, and closes his eyes again.

Some time passes. Kon drifts vaguely in and out of consciousness, thoughts swimming; when the pain and the nausea grow too overwhelming, he retreats into the part of his mind that never left the tube at Cadmus and lets himself float away from reality.

He dreams about the swimming hole a little ways from the farmhouse. It's in a small copse of trees that stand out on the flat horizon; he took Tim there earlier this summer. They splashed around, swam, and made out sitting on the water's edge; right as they were about to leave, Tim stole Kon's shirt and jumped in wearing it, just to make Kon wear a wet T-shirt the whole walk home, and laughed at his own prank on and off all afternoon.

Kon likes when Tim laughs. The memory makes him smile; he can almost feel the warmth of the sunlight on his back as he reminisces. God, what he'd do for some sunlight right now...

Bang. Bang. Bang.

BOOM.

Light floods into the room, artificial, fluorescent light that does nothing for him. Kon squints vaguely at the silhouettes cast against it, but doesn't bother to lift his head; he'd rather dream of the swimming hole and the cool water lapping at his clammy skin.

"Is that a fucking collar?" Cassie's voice, frigid with rage. Warm hands brush against his throat as she kneels, and the sound of metal snapping reaches him from far, far away. "I'm going to kill Luthor. I'm actually gonna kill—"

"Not if I get there first," Bart says, his voice strangely taut. "Hey, Kon. Wake up!"

Someone else is at his side, too. Red, and black, and white eyes in a dark mask... oh. That's Tim, Kon realizes woozily, as a gloved hand cups his cheek.

"Kon," Tim says. His voice is low and urgent. He's not laughing. The kryptonite is gone, Kon realizes suddenly; there's a metal box next to Tim's knee. Classic Tim, he thinks. Always prepared. "Kon, can you hear me?"

Kon blinks at him. He probably should answer, but... he still feels like he's floating, and none of it can quite reach him. It's fine. It's probably fine.

Tim's lips press together in a thin, tight line. Kon doesn't like that; he shouldn't look so tense and unhappy. He likes when Tim laughs.

"Shit, that bastard really did a number on him," Cassie hisses. "Here, move. I got him."

Tim reluctantly pulls away. Kon whines a little as his hand drops from his cheek; he doesn't want Tim to go. But then Cassie is there, gathering him up into her arms, and Kon sighs, relaxing; she's warm, and he's suddenly acutely aware that he's freezing, and he knows in her arms, he's safe.

"Let's go," Cassie says, standing with Kon in her arms.

"He's shivering. Hold on." Kon watches through weary, half-lidded eyes as Tim fiddles with the clasps of his cape, pulls it off, and... oh. Drapes it over him like a blanket, then bundles him up like a baby, in Cassie's arms.

"If you guys have Kon, I can go murder Luthor real fast," Bart offers.

It's probably a sign that his friends are really, really pissed that no one immediately says no murder, Bart. Kon can't figure out what's going on, but he knows he's safe now. He closes his eyes and sinks into Cassie's arms and figures he'll just have to ask them to fill him in later.

[ele-sme]

Can you write something in Spider pov towards Jake? since today is his birthday? thanks.

ok

Tw: Spider is 7, not a real warning but you guys could get confused, also Neytiri is nice to him.

this is late sorry.

it was a cloudy morning,

Spider stirs in his cozy bed, the diffused light casting a soft glow. Torn between dreams and the day ahead, he rubs his sleepy eyes. With a determined sigh, he threw off the covers, his tiny feet meeting the cool floor of his room.

He wanted to stay in bed some other hours, the day was perfect for staying in bed some other hours, but his duty tugged him upright into the embrace of the cloudy day.

well, to be honest, it wasn't exactly a duty, but he promised his friends he would have been there.

Today was their father birthday, Jake sully birthday, the olo'eyktan of the omatikaya clan and most importantly Toruk Matao.

Spider arrived to his bathroom and clumsily removed his pajama, to then enter in the shower.

he was still a little sleepy, so when the cold water hit him he let out a little yalp of surprise.

after getting used to the water, he started soaping his body, other kids his age couldn't clean themself without the help of their parents, so Spider felt proud of himself everytime he showered.

as his hairs got on his face, he wondered if he had time to at least braid them.

'would take me all day, so no...maybe just one?'

he had to take out his locks the day before so he could wash his hair, he planned to re doing them the day after with Kiri helping him.

' i wonder if Mr sully will like having me there or not '

he almost fell on his butt when he got out of the shower, with a towel he carefully dried himself, and he put one of his loincloths on.

the most pretty of them all, it was a gift from his friends for his seven birthday.

the green color made him almost invisible in the forest, and the soft cloth made him comfortable to run in the forest for as many hours as he wanted without getting any rash or worse.

Finally, he was ready to go out, he only needed his oxygen mask, which was on the counter of the kitchen.

grabbed it, put it on, made it work, and boom he was ready.

he opened the door to go out and...

his eyes, widened like saucers, gleamed with a mix of wonder and determination.

Bounding through the forest, Spider's agile movements mirror the creatures that share the same forest he does. his feet are barely making any sound, this was something Lo'ak taught him, but Neteyam perfected it on him.

during his path, he found an orchid, and c'mon how could he not play a little with it?

as he kneeled down to touch the plant, its tentacles touched his fingers, making him giggle before standing up again.

his laughter rang through the trees of the mighty forest, a joyful sound that seemed to draw energy from the very heart of it.

In the end that always a child laugh, and the great mother at hearing it could only rejoice.

after another five or ten minutes? - he didn't know the path was always so fun that the time seemed lost everytime he took the way- he was now inside the clan.

all around him, mans, womans and children doing things.

starting from cooking going then into playing.

as he now walked towards the olo'eyktan and family pod, some teens stopped to ruffle his hair, or to give him some fruits which he had to refuse.

finally, he could enter the pod of the family, and immediately Lo'ak was on top of him, hugging Spider like he hadn't seen the kid the day before.

his older siblings came along, hugging Spider so hard he finded hard to even breath.

but that was okay for him, for him those were his siblings, so they could give him as many scratches and bruises as they wanted.

as the hug finished, Spider noticed that Neytiri, his friend's mom, was cooking something.

she was always nice to him, unlike his foster mother.

she and him hadn't even spoken that week, and it was already Friday, probably his fault she was an adult she was probably too busy to talk to him.

"Sa'nu, sa'nu! Spider arrived!" Lo'ak yelled running towards his mother, who catched him immediately, laughing with him as she tickled her son a little.

"sempu, we invited Spider for your birthday!" Kiri said giggling, taking Spider's arm and practically dragging him towards her father.

Jake, who was putting the toys of his children away turned his head to face the kids before him.

"Good morning, Spider, how ar-" Jake stopped mid-sentence as he watched the boy with worried eyes.

"What sempul?" Neteyam who was next to Kiri asked, and Spider could feel Neytiri and Lo'ak's eyes on him.

he also felt a gasp coming from behind, it sounded to adult to be Lo'ak.

" ’evi, why is your hair wet?" Jake asked concerned.

oh right, Spider hair were wet, he still couldn't dry them alone, and no one called him over to dry them when he put the mask on or before he headed out.

' They are busy people probably they haven't noticed '

Kiri and Neteyam's hands were now on his head as to really confirm his hair were wet, then they both nodded to themselves as to confirm it between eachother.

"Come here, i dry them for you," Jake said, and Spider slowly walked over him, Jake made him sit down on his lap and with a towel started ruffling his hair.

Kiri and Neteyam in the meanwhile pick their toys back and started dancing around with them, as their ikan toys would really fly.

"Spider, yawntutsyìp, you shouldn't go around with wet hair, you might get a fever," Jake said, his words were soft, they made Spider's fear of him drift away.

he wasn't like his foster father, he was nice, even carrying, it was quite nice to spend time with him.

' I'm sure Mr Sully would never yell and Neteyam or Lo'ak for not washing the dishes, Nash is really mean then! '

"Here we go, all dry" Jake said putting the towel away, and now ruffling Spider hair with his own hands, which were way bigger the the boy head.

Spider turns his head to face Jake eyes, and the older man smile at him warmly...in the same way he smiles at Neteyam?

Jake's gaze is warm and steady. With this gentle smile, he leans down. his lips touch Spider's forehead, a tender exchange of emotions takes place in Spider's tiny brain

he feels trusted, and protected, Does his friends feel like this too when Jake kisses their heads?

Until now, only his friends had bestowed gentle pecks on his head, cheeks, and hands, little gestures of their close bond.

But never before had anyone else kissed him, and he felt a mix of curiosity and surprise. This was something new, something he hadn't experienced.

The touch of a fatherly kiss held a different kind of warmth from the ones of his friends, a sense of protection and care that felt unfamiliar yet comforting. It wasn't romantic or strange, just a simple gesture that made him feel accepted and loved.

Jake then looked at the kid again, the smile still on his face, but now he was holding Spider more tightly, making Spider be beside Jake's chest, he could even hear the man's heartbeat!

it was funny to listen at, tum tum tum tum, Spider never listened to a heartbeat.

he didn't know that above his head, there was a conversation between Jake and Neytiri, only that was with their eyes, him pleading, she thinking and in the end nodding.

and a fond smile appeared on both parents faces.

Spider's stomach rumbled.

" 'evi, what did you eat for having hunger this early in the day" Neytiri asked him.

and Spider shook his head "i didn't eat today" he said leaving Neytiri with half mouth open.

"Then you want some episoth seed?" Jake asked and Spider nodded vigorously.

the other three children lamented wanting some too, but their mother quickly shushed them up, saying if they ate more their bellies would explode.

this made Spider laugh, so much that he almost fell off Jake's lap, luckily his tight grab on him prevented that.

the rest of the day was spent with stories, and laugher and sweets!

a lot of sweets since it was a birtday.

Spider never felt more..loved in his entire life.

Jake and Neytiri even offered him to stay for the night!

and the night after too,

and then too

until Spider was basically living there.

for his eighth birthday Neytiri and Jake made him the most wholesome thing ever, going to live with them forever!

there is nothing that could be possibly made him go away from his family.

gosh i haven't wrote something in like an eternity, is nice.

i hope you liked anon.

[blacksheep-vile]

BLACKSHEEP HC’S PART 2!

Blacksheep loves the beach. She finds cool rocks and collects them.

Loves to read

Will literally have a favorite food from every country because her Nannies gave her food from their travels

Likes drawing

Drank coffee as a kid

Wanted to go out to the towns on the island and explore them but the faculty said no (I believe there were towns because VILE was on the Canary islands)

LOVES to do crafts

Can swim really well and fast.

Used to climb trees.

Has gotten stitches at least once

her favorite color has been red since she was little

Didn’t talk at all during her first day of holdover year

Favorite fruit is Apples

That’s what I’ve got for now, I don’t have any WIPS 😭

have a good day/night <3

[archoniluthradanar]

The Guard and the Newborn

This is in response to a request for a Demetri fluff piece, by @kpopgirlbtssvt

You are a newborn vampire, around twenty-three in human years, not that it will matter anymore. You're alone in the world because your sire left you on your own shortly after he had turned you. When you awoke, you and he began to explore the world, with all the sights, sounds, and colour around you. Eventually, he left you.

When you were a young mortal, you found out you had an affinity with the cold. You discovered you could turn water into ice merely by dipping your finger into it, or freezing something organic and throwing it into the water. You could also gather ice crystals in the air and form snow anywhere you desired. Once you had been changed, your gift was amplified. You had never felt so powerful.

One day, you found yourself in the countryside, still in Washington state, you thought. Towns of humans were few and far between out here. You tried to be careful when you fed, but at times, it was hard to control your thirst. If only your sire had stayed to teach you things you needed to know. At least right now, you're not hungry, and are simply enjoying the cool air, waving your hands to create snow that fell from the sky around you.

You came upon a field, one surrounded by trees, but the area itself was empty. It gave you the perfect playground. You raise your hands to draw together ice crystals in the air. The snow begins to fall, and you dance around in it, happy. It's interesting to you how you can no longer melt it, your body being cold as well.

Off in the distance, you see a group of people running very fast to a section of the open space. There is no where for you to hide. One man, a blonde, sees you and calls to you. You know he is a vampire as well, but fear makes you want to run. He is at your side in a second.

"Who are you? You shouldn't be here. This place may become a dangerous place soon." The man looked off in the distance, frowning. "It's too late. They're here. You need to come with me."

Whatever it was the blonde man saw, was here. You see a large group of what you know to be are vampires coming through the fog. They are dressed in grey and black cloaks, and just seeing the group intimidates you. You wait, slowly moving backwards, keeping your eyes on both groups. "Oh no.." you say to yourself, knowing you have to leave. These two groups are not friends, and you don't want to to be caught in the middle of this. "I'm not involved in this, and don't want any trouble. So I'm just going to say good bye and go."

You turn around, but hear someone say "Get her!"

You've barely taken three steps before you feel hard arms wrapped around you. Some man has you tightly within his arms, with no intent to let you go. You close your eyes, scared and struggling against him, albeit weakly. "Let me go," you plead. "I won't cause any trouble, I swear." If only your arms were free. You have no idea who these cloaked vampires are, but they are not as nice as the other one was. You struggle, but are held tight. "Please don't hurt me. I just want to go..." Where? You have no home.

The same voice as before says, "Bring her to us, Demetri." So his name is Demetri. You hear him tell you to open your eyes and stop struggling. One eye opens, as if partially blocking out the scene will make everything go away. Your other eye opens tentatively, making the vampire Demetri laugh. You want to cry, but have no tears. As he pulls you along with him back to the line of the dark vampires, you stop fighting him.

Once the two of you are behind the vampires, Demetri loosens his hold to see what you do. You've decided fighting will gain you nothing. At least they are vampires too, and strong ones.

You look up at the man holding you, his crimson eyes forcing you to stare. You've forgotten that your eyes are now red as well. You sigh loudly, stunned by his beauty. This also makes him laugh. You look away shyly, his stare intimidating you. His forefinger touches your chin, forcing you to look up at him. Your eyes meet, both of you seeing only the other and nothing else around you. He strokes your cheek with his knuckles, then they move down to caress your lips. You can tell he wants to kiss you, but doesn't.

"Master Aro, we must bring her back with us to Volterra. I...I feel like I know her. She belongs with me."

"I know, Demetri. Marcus has indicated to me she is your mate. That's why you're drawn to her and she to you, although she may not know why."

Demetri looks back to you, and leaning down, he captures your lips with his. "Will you come home with me?" he asks.

You kiss him back, no longer desiring to fight him. On the contrary, this feels right and perfect to you. In one day, you have found a new home and a mate to spend eternity with. "Yes, I'll go with you."

You stand watching what's happening, while Demetri stands right behind you, his arms at your waist holding on to you. He dips his head, inhaling the scent from your thick dark hair. He then kisses the top of your head, pulling you back against him. If you could blush, your cheeks would be a bright pink.

Whatever has been going on, it seems the two groups are not friends, but have somehow avoided fighting one another. The dark-haired vampire named Aro tells everyone in his group there is no danger and although one of the vampires is not happy, you see the fight is ended before it started.

Aro finally comes over to you, nodding at Demetri and holding out his hand to you. Demetri whispers to you to give your hand to Master Aro. You do so reluctantly. The vampires lets out a faint sigh and says nothing while he just holds your hand. He lets it go, a smile on his face. "You have a gift, my dear."

Demetri smiles, knowing this will ensure your being allowed into the Volturi. His hands grip you a bit harder while he nuzzles your neck.

"We shall enjoy testing your gifts once we are home. Now, child, I know you are a newborn, but who changed you?"

You tell him you aren't sure since you only have his name. You met your sire in the city of Seattle, along with others. This young man took you away from the group once they began talking about fighting another coven. The two of you traveled together, feeding on humans as you moved around the state. But then one day, he left you alone. He told you little about being a vampire. It might have been because he wasn't much older than you were.

Aro nodded, and turned to talk with a tall dark-haired vampire and the angry blonde one.

Demetri whispered in your ear so as not to interrupt Master Aro talking with Masters Marcus and Caius. "You're not alone anymore, cara mia. You will be with me from now on, and I'm sure Master Aro will let me teach you all you need to know. You'll stay with me in my room...our room. I hope you like it. If not, we can fix it up any way you like. I will enjoy getting to know you...very well."

You feel like blushing again. Staying with Demetri in his room has frightening yet interesting connotations. His lips on the back of your neck only makes you feel even more timid. But you want him to be happy with you, as you know he will work to make you happy.

The group of vampires flashes across the valley floor, Demetri holding onto your hand. You smile, your new mate at your side, knowing this coven is now your family.

[foxymoxynoona]

Over the Falls Ch. 2: Bomb

Sexy Banner & bar by @borabae-gx

Summary: Jungkook sees a lot of things as a pool tech. It’s…  fine. It pays the bills between mornings on the water and evenings  rocking out with his garage-band. His favorite thing to see on the job has been Grace Birch –older but a hottie, wealthy but nice, and  unfortunately very married. At least until Grace learns what her husband  has been up to behind her back. Now that she’s free, Jungkook finds  himself wondering: what does it take for a guy like him to catch the eye of a woman like that?

Genre: Poolboy Jungkook x Rich Divorcee OC

Tags: Age gap (older woman), socioeconomic gap, Surferboy JK, drummer/guitarist/vocalist JK, Wealthy divorcee OC, househusband

CW: Mature/Explicit,  Infidelity (not between JKxOC), language, alcohol, recreational drugs, lots of explicit sex, ageist/racist/classist remarks down the road, outdoor sex, beach sex

Chapter One | Masterlist | Chapter Three

“You’re pursing your lips!” Taro called back to Jungkook. His attempts to unpurse them failed beneath his glare; he pursed them tighter, then squeezed his eyes shut accidentally while trying to relax his lips. Thinking about it all caused him to drag the rhythm and Yoongi abruptly stopped.

“Fuck off,” Jungkook scowled at Taro. “Who cares what my mouth is doing when I’m not singing?”

“I care, it doesn’t look cool.”

“Well stop looking back at me and you won’t see it. The audience is that way,” Jungkook said, pointing with his stick to the front of the garage where Taehyung, Jimin, Hoseok, and Corri chilled with beers on cheap folding chairs. They weren’t paying any attention to the rehearsal, certainly not to anything Jungkook’s face was doing behind the drums. 

“Yeah but–”

“No one cares what his fucking face does,” Soyoon agreed with him. “They care whether he nails that tricky rhythm.”

“Thank you–”

“If he looks like a muppet, so what?”

Jungkook’s grateful grin slid into a scowl. Soyoon smiled. 

Yoongi’s voice sounded equally as deceptively supportive as he suggested, “Maybe more like a tarsier.”

“I was thinking tree frog,” Taehyung called over. 

“You’re all fucking assholes,” Jungkook huffed and did a run on the drums as loud as he could as punishment. They were unfortunately unbothered. As unbothered as they should have been about whatever concentration face he made as he drummed. They had no idea the coordination and focus it required! 

“Don’t listen to them,” Hoseok insisted as soon as the cacophony died down. “You’re handsome no matter what face you make, that’s why they’re being like that. They’re jealous. You look so cool when you drum, you’re stealing the show.”

It was too over the top. Jungkook sighed and let his head hang as his friends got their laughs out. 

“What? What did I say?” Hoseok mumbled as Jimin patted his arm and shushed him. Hoseok was the only one of their group to say something like that and mean it sincerely, but no one could take it seriously. Alas.

“Let’s just take it from the top,” Yoongi said. “Last song of the night and I’m out.”

“Out? Why out? We’re performing this weekend,” Taro instantly argued. Jungkook saw the twitch of Yoongi’s lips, only the faintest sign he ever showed that he was annoyed.

“Yeah, so we had the extra rehearsal.”

“I just want us to do well,” Taro insisted. “This isn’t a normal performance. It’s a competition.”

Jungkook couldn’t help the snicker, “For Aughts Coverbands. It’s not that deep, Taro, you don’t have to be a bitch about my face.”

“Gee, can’t imagine why you can’t get laid lately.”

“The fuck do you know about it? I can get laid whenever I–” Jungkook sputtered. Really? She had to say that right in front of Corri?!

Soyoon sighed noisily, “We all know you want to win, we all know Junky can get laid, can we just do it already?” God he hated that nickname, if anyone besides Soyoon called him that he’d lose his shit, but somehow she’d always been able to use it as a hook to draw him back. He rolled his eyes at her, as expected, and she grinned and thumbed a line on the bass.

“Winning is fun,” Taro huffed. “I thought at least Jungkook would agree with me.”

“You’re talking shit about my face! We aren’t going to lose because of my face!”

“Only when you purse your lips like that.”

“I’m just concentrating.”

“You’re supposed to make it look effortless.”

“You wanna drum?” he asked, standing from the stool and holding the sticks out. She rolled her eyes and looked away. She’d once tried to pick it up and failed miserable, she lacked the coordination and muscle for it. And Jungkook had taken the high road and not teased her (too bad) about it. Her inability to play any instrument didn’t matter; she was a kickass lead vocalist and frontwoman, even though she sucked before any performance she deemed important. Yeah, Jungkook wanted to do well in a competition, obviously, but it wasn’t supposed to be a source of stress. They were a mostly-covers band, not some music act out to change the world. It was just supposed to be fun. Jungkook had managed to calm down the hyper-competitive streak of his younger days and wasn’t interested in getting all wrapped up in it again. 

“I’m just trying to help you get laid,” she mumbled.

“Why are you so worried whether he’s getting laid?” Taehyung asked, just as loudly as before, as if Corri hadn’t already heard all of this. Corri, one of the women uninterested in laying him despite their past lays.

“I’m not. I just think he seems frustrated.”

“Yeah because our vocalist keeps talking shit about my concentration face.”

Yoongi started to play the chorus, a not-so-subtle sign he was bored with the bickering banter. 

“Yeah I’m frustrated but not about… whatever, just play the song,” Jungkook huffed. Corri’s obvious avoidance of looking in his direction suddenly embarrassed him, when he usually could shrug off teasing no problem. He didn’t care that Corri didn’t want to fuck anymore, it wasn’t like they had been a thing, it just was embarrassing for someone you weren’t a thing with to tell you they wanted to be even less of a thing… Suddenly he wondered if Corri and Taro had been talking about him….

Before anyone (Taro) could escalate further, Soyoon scolded, “Elizabeth. Sing the damn song so I’m not late to teaching.”

Taro —real name Elizabeth– scowled in Soyoon’s direction this time and Jungkook settled back onto his stool. He flexed his fingers and cracked his neck to get ready for the final run-through of all three songs they would play at the competition: “Misery Business” by Paramore, “All Around You” by Flyleaf, and “The Real Mothers” by Screaming Females. Jungkook could have done without Flyleaf but Taro had gotten to choose the final song after a cutthroat tournament of rock-paper-scissors. Granted, Jungkook would have preferred to cover at least one male-led song, but he wasn’t going to go there. 

Instead he did his best to keep his face neutral and un-pinched as he played, his best effort to be above reproach. Yoongi was who he cared more about impressing though; Taro was a great vocalist but when it came to musical talent, Yoongi was their lead with Soyoon not far behind. The two of them wrote and composed all their original stuff and did the arrangements for their covers. The two of them could have gone pro, really, but they had their reasons for being in this hobby band, just like Taro did, just like Jungkook did. 

Fun. It was all supposed to be fun. 

Usually he liked rehearsal, but Taro was right about one tiny thing: he was frustrated. But it wasn’t about sex! Or at least not about his sex. It was about a particular video sitting on his phone that he had no fucking clue what to do about. He had hoped to ask Yoongi what he thought but then felt stupid about it as they kicked off rehearsal and there wasn’t any time afterwards. As soon as the set was done, Soyoon and Yoongi both split for their evening gigs. 

Taro’s face went through a tornado of emotions before she finally put her hands on Jungkook’s shoulders and said, “Sorry. Your face is fine. I just want us to look good but I didn’t mean to be a dick about it.”

“Whoever you have coming to the show isn’t going to fuck or not fuck you because of what my face does.”

She growled, “Come on, I apologized. Don’t be a shit.” But it was allowed. That’s how things were between them, had been for the ten years they’d known each other since their first pick up performances as teens, back when she was just Beth and not the artist known as Taro. He grinned and she pinched his cheek and that was the end of it; she and Corri disappeared with only a backward wave.

Jungkook expected to be on his own for the last bit of cleanup but Jimin and Taehyung and Hoseok shuffled around the garage helping with it. They’d done their best to waterproof the garage but after a leak had come a little too close to an amp, Jungkook was too nervous to leave anything of value on the ground ever again. He’d built a shaky wooden platform for his kit, made sure all the cables and amps were on shelves and hooks against the windowless wall, and kept the other instruments inside the house. Yoongi’s garage had been nicer and at the top of a hill but after his neighbors called the cops on them twice, they’d moved to Jungkook’s garage. His neighbors didn’t give a shit; everyone was noisy here. They usually played with the door open anyways because it got hot as fuck in there with only a couple fans and sometimes people would sit out on their porches to listen. Jimin had the great idea of adding an air conditioner but with what fucking money? Someday. Maybe with the prize money if they won the competition! The 2000s were the worst decade of music as far as Jungkook was concerned, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t win…

He felt the stirrings of ambition and squashed it.

“Paramore and Flyleaf,” he mumbled as Jimin and Taehyung sang lyrics over each other while they looped cables. 

“What’s wrong with Paramore?” Hoseok asked. “Besides that you’re too young to remember them.”

“I’m not too young. I remember “Ain’t It Fun,” that album. And I remember these songs! I like them. The drumming is good, and they’re good for Taro’s voice.”

“But… you’d rather be playing something else?”

“I just don’t like the competitions,” he admitted. “I’d rather be doing our usual set for our usual stage. No stress, no worries–”

“Yeah you don’t like it because you’re a sleeping competitive asshole,” Jimin snickered.

Jungkook looked around for anything left down as he demanded, “What does that mean, sleeping?”

“It means you want everything to think you’re chill. Surfer life, ya?” Jimin teased, making two shaka gestures. His mockery was idiotic considering he surfed almost as much as Jungkook did, although he hadn’t gone as much lately. Work. “We’ve known you too long. We know you like to crush the competition.”

“Nah, man, that’s not me anymore.”

Jimin and Taehyung shared a look. Jungkook backhanded Taehyung in the stomach because he was closest, then motioned for them to get out so he could drag the garage door closed. The clicker had been broken for a while and every time one of them tried to fix it, it just broke again. Handymen they were not despite their best efforts, Jungkook in particular. He just didn’t have the knack for it, so he was learning, that was all. Their landlord didn’t have to be such a shitbag about his attempts gone awry. If he’d just call the fucking plumber or contractor or whatever it was on time, Jungkook wouldn’t have to take matters into his own hands! Or worse, Taehyung or Jimin went after it. 

“What are we doing for dinner?” Taehyung asked as they kicked their shoes off by the back door. Jungkook ignored the question, assuming it was intended for Jimin or Hoseok, or at least not him. Briefly looking at his phone with the thought of delivery –followed by the painful reminder of his bank account– nudged his attention back to the video. The video. The one currently living in the Recently Deleted folder on his phone, chilling in limbo for 30 days until he either restored it or let his phone delete it for good. He felt no closer to making a decision on what to do with it. Forget he knew this and let it disappear? Give it to Mrs. Birch because she deserved to know she was married to an epic dipshit? 

“JK?” 

“Yeah episode four, I don’t know.”

“Huh?”

“Are we talking about what to watch?”

“What show are you even talking about?” Jimin laughed at him. “We’re talking about food! Dinner!”

“Oh. Uh…”

Taehyung snickered and nudged him with an elbow as he passed through the door, “He’s thinking about the video.”

“Grossss.”

“I’m not— I’m not thinking about the video,” Jungkook argued. It was a lie; they could tell it was a lie. He didn’t appreciate their joke of making it sound like he was thinking-thinking about it, rather than stressing about it. Stressing wasn’t his style.

“Just delete it, man,” Taehyung said. “You don’t need some guy’s nut on your phone. No offense to the gays in the room.”

“None taken, I don’t want some asshole’s nut on my phone either,” Jimin snickered.

“Yeah but….” 

Jimin, still grinning, countered, “Stop being a puss and just tell the wife what you found. She deserves to know and once she’s done being heartbroken, she’ll appreciate it,” Jimin countered. “Maybe a lot.” He wiggled his eyebrows. Jungkook deeply regretted having drunkenly shared a Mrs. Birch fantasy with Jimin just one time, which Jimin would now never ever forget.

Their “advice” was too much like teasing. It didn’t feel serious and had already put him in a bad mood when they first acted like this when he told them yesterday. Not everything was a joke. He wanted to live like that too, sure! But he had a real moral conflict here and he didn’t appreciate them making it sound like he was getting some kind of sick pleasure –either out of having a fucking porn video of that spaghetti-dick Tim or of hoping to get into Mrs. Birch’s good graces as a hero. He didn’t feel like this was heroic. He felt like a fucking creep to have taken it in the first place. He felt like it was infecting his phone. He felt like he was holding a bomb that was going to blow up a marriage and really hurt a good person. 

Not that he really knew her and whether she was a good person. For all he knew she had Nice White Lady Syndrome for “the Help” and was an entitled privileged bitch elsewhere. She’d married that fucker, after all, so she had to be like into that kind of guy and lifestyle and all that. Maybe she had her side pieces too, for all he knew! And it just wasn’t him! He didn’t want to insert himself into what could be a really sick, fucked up marriage.

“What if the dude comes after me?” he mused. He flopped down on the couch, instantly comforted by the broken-in cushion that nearly swallowed him. “He could get me fired. Sue me. Ruin my life. I dunno.”

“For exposing his cheating?” Taehyung’s face crinkled up. “Then we fuck him up.”

“He’s rich.”

Jimin tapped his chin and pointed out, “Ah, it’s true, it probably wasn’t legal for you to take that video, right?”

“Huh?”

“You filmed a guy having sex in his own house,” Jimin said. “I just mean… having the video is probably a risk. You should either pass it along or get rid of it, but only if you know the wife won’t turn on you. Rich people… you gotta be careful with them.”

“She…” Jungkook started to say she wouldn’t… but he didn’t know. He didn’t actually know her at all. And now Jimin and Taehyung were making him more scared than guilty. He couldn’t get sued. He didn’t have money! He didn’t have time for court. And his family wouldn’t be able to handle the shame. Who would watch Max when Yoojin got called into work without warning? Who would help his dad set up literally any new electronic device or go grocery shopping with his mom so she didn’t have to carry all the bags into the house because Yoojin was busy with Max and his dad worked a lot and Haewon didn’t live at home anymore? His parents needed him more than ever now, he couldn’t go to jail just because he was trying to do something “good” for a woman he didn’t even know! A thing she probably wouldn’t even appreciate!

He turned to Hoseok, hoping for some meaningful insight from him. Hoseok was a few years older and easily the most mature, experienced person in the house right now. Aside from his choice in dating Jimin, he tended to demonstrate good taste and clear judgment. Jimin and Taehyung could be hit or miss on their advice but Hoseok had a knack for people. Jungkook rebelled at their stirring of the pot, making him so nervous. He wasn’t a nervous guy. There had to be an easy, simple solution.

But Hoseok, who hadn’t said a word this whole time, nor when Jungkook first stupidly told these guys about the video two days ago, just read from his phone, “Kalasha is doing a free delivery special to celebrate the new restaurant. Chicken? Egg sandwiches?”

“Yeah, chicken!” Taehyung quickly agreed. Jungkook understood: they were done talking about this, and he sure wasn’t going to be the needy baby demanding more advice that he didn’t even appreciate. He was both relieved and annoyed. This was his mess. He had to figure this out on his own. But he could have used some good advice.

“Egg sandwich,” he said. “Is there one with chicken too? I’m gonna hit the gym later tonight and surf in the morning so I need that protein, yo!” There, Jungkook back to himself, and his friends readily accepted it. 

The crash of the waves against the shore drowned out all else. Early mornings had a cool humidity to them, leaving a cold sweaty feeling on Jungkook’s skin, his hair wild and crunchy from the salt. The warm water lapped his ankles, sand sucking out from beneath his toes as the water swirled and then retreated, only to be overrun by the next impatient wave. It was a beautiful morning to be out, perfect surf conditions, beach not yet overrun by the tourists who would flock here once they’d finished their brunch and mimosas at the nearby resort.

Jungkook shook the wet hair out of his face and closed his eyes for a moment to enjoy the breeze off the water. The scent of salt and fish, sharp and pungent, was home to him. He breathed in deeply and tried to let everything else in the world sift from his mind. That was the beauty of surfing, it took all of you, for a brief time you were nothing but a fleck of energy carried by the water. That was what he liked about drumming too. He liked things that consumed him.

Surfing early in the morning had many advantages, when the tide worked out. Nice weather. Quieter beach. Fewer rookies. 

“How’s the break, bro?” Carver asked, coming up behind and slapping him on the shoulder. Jungkook saw Missy trailing further up the beach, board perched on her head. He took his eyes off Hoseok only for a second to answer,

“Yeah, bomb breaks today.” He slapped Carver’s back in return. “You’re late for dawn patrol though, eh?”

Carver rolled his eyes, “Someone couldn’t get out of bed this morning.” He jerked his thumb at Missy. Jungkook’s eyebrows raised but he said nothing, knowing he’d be awkward. Carver and Missy had been dating a year now or something like it, and for at least a year before that Carver had trailed along behind her like a lovesick dickhead while Missy didn’t have the time of day for him. Jungkook had spent many a daybreak catching waves with her but she’d seemed unbothered by any of his attempts at flirting –until suddenly one day she took a liking to Carver and now they stayed up all night fucking so she couldn’t make it to the beach on time. Jungkook hated that he knew that. He was fine that she’d never given him a chance but he was bummed to see less of two people he enjoyed. 

And also that they were just so happy together.

Fuck, he just knew too much about other people’s fuck lives without having one of his own to occupy his thoughts.

He gave a wave to Missy and headed out to the water just as Hoseok slid smoothly onto the beach. He sure didn’t let his bedmate keep him from catching those early breaks under the first streaks of light. His hair spiked and his smile glowed as he took those first heavy steps off the board and then immediately turned around to drag it back into the water a few yards behind Jungkook.

“I’ve only got time for one more,” he called, voice swallowed by the surf but Jungkook still heard and remembered he’d said that earlier, he had an earlier shift as a manager at the resort. It was a really demanding job, and he busted his ass. But he was still here! Unlike Taehyung. Jimin was practically a hodad at this point anyway so it didn’t really matter if he was here since he just distracted Hoseok anyway.

Jungkook walked until he had to glide and paddle. The sun was steadily heating up on his back but the water felt cool by comparison, drenching the thin fabric of his rash guard. He kept his eyes on the horizon where sea birds flitted and landed, and a couple fishing boats in the distance seemed to hover. Greenish fish darted beneath the shadow of his board. A shadow of a cloud passed over but otherwise the sky was clear and would no doubt be scorching later. Work was going to be hot today. He had three pools to clean, and then had promised Yoojin he’d take Max in the evening. She was being cagey as shit about why she needed the sitting, which probably meant she had a date and she knew very well how Jungkook felt about that. Yoojin’s taste in men was as shitty as her cooking. Max was the only good thing her ex had ever done in his life, and he wasn’t even still involved except for an occasional miniscule child-support check.

When he got far enough out, he straddled the board and waited as first one and then a second mushburger made him bob. Too gentle to ride. Sitting in the lull was peaceful though and gave Hoseok time to catch up. Jungkook breathed the breeze and watched his friend sit up several yards away. As the first one out, Jungkook had wave priority, but he knew Hoseok had somewhere to be.

“You want the next one?” he called.

“Nah bro, you’re first!”

“I can wait. I’m floating.”

“No no it’s fine, you first.”

“Eh…” Jungkook sighed as a totally surfable swell raised beneath them. Neither of them took it, just watched as it peeled. “Damn, would’ve been perfect.”

“Take it,” Hoseok insisted. “I can chill.”

Jungkook briefly considered it. Felt his muscles tense as another swell began to rise behind him. But being out here was soothing, and he felt tendrils dragging at his mind again that he wasn’t willing to face once he went back to shore. Out here he was nothing, nobody, just a piece of driftwood on the sea. Back on land, he had a job to do. The Birch pool was on his roster today, and he was no closer to figuring out what to do with the video in his trash folder. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back as the wave once again passed them and broke.

“Bro,” Hoseok called. “You ok?”

“What do I do about that video, man?” Jungkook sighed, shouting to be heard over the distance. “I just don’t know… I gotta face her today and what, know her husband is fucking around and that she probably doesn’t know? But damn I don’t want to be tied up in some rich person bullshit…”

Hoseok shook his head, “Yeah, you can’t get into that shit. Richies will rip you up, they don’t give a shit you were trying to do a good thing.” Of course, Hoseok saw lots of shitty rich people in his resort job. Jungkook had briefly worked there as a cabana boy too. He remembered. Oh boy, did he remember.

“Yeah but…” Jungkook sighed. They were all right. He knew they were right, and his family would give the same advice if he asked –which he wouldn’t, because he would never talk to his family about personal problems like that. They had enough of their own and he was the eldest now so it was his job to help them. 

But he also just had this painful twist in his stomach at the idea of Mrs. Birch being married to that piece of shit. Probably the fucker was going to catch something and give it to her and that’s how she’d fine out. He’d get some other chick pregnant. She’d walk in on it and be traumatized. Maybe she was secretly as shitty as the rest but if she wasn’t, didn’t she deserve to know the kind of man she married? Since apparently she hadn’t already figured it out on her own? But it wasn’t Jungkook’s job to tell her…

“I see that look,” Hoseok laughed, splashing Jungkook to get his attention. “You want to do it. That’s why I don’t like to give you advice. You just do what you’re going to do anyway.”

“The thing is, I would want to know,” Jungkook said.

“You aren’t her. You should be worried about yourself. She doesn’t care about you.”

It hurt to hear. It was true. He didn’t like to hear it but appreciated the honesty.

“I know but… otherwise what, I keep cleaning their pool and keep knowing and don’t say anything? That’s not who I am. I want to be an honest person no matter what.”

“No matter what,” Hoseok laughed. “It’s admirable but sometimes not the best.”

Jungkook let out a noisy sigh. 

And then had an idea.

“What if it’s not me that tells her?” he said, slowly turning his board after it drifted. “What if I just give her the video anonymously? Then she knows but no one knows it’s me.”

Hoseok’s face screwed up, “How would you even do that?”

“Burn a dvd. Leave it in her mailbox?”

“They probably have cameras all over the place. Or they’ll data mine the DVD or whatever…”

But Jungkook was onto something and he knew it. Fine, a USB stick, and he didn’t think it had to be that secure because he hadn’t seen anything that made him think either of the Birchs was that technically smart and they were going to have bigger things to worry about anyway, right? Like divorce. Divorce that would bring that piece of rich-ass shit to his dry, wrinkled knees.

“Nah bro, this will work!” Jungkook beamed. He felt an instant lightness swell within him that had nothing to do with the lift of another wave beneath the board. “Ya, ok, it’s a plan. Let’s get it!”

“Wait, but JK–”

“I’m taking this one!” he called, ignoring Hoseok’s concerns. There was no good path forward but this was the best one. Probably Mrs. Birch would be hurt but at least no one could trace it to him and he wouldn’t have to admit to her he’d been the one to record it and no one could sue him for what pennies he had to his name.

He caught the next wave, leaping to his feet at the lip of it as he drew in a deep, joyful breath. This was the best part. Flying. Adrenaline coursed through his body, just the right amount to make him feel like a beam of sunlight, the rough board beneath his feet the only thing left to ground him as he cut his board across clear water that sprayed in his face. No barrels big enough to pull into this morning but the drop left his heart thumping in his chest and his head spinning. Nothing beat the high of a bitchin’ ride. 

Suddenly the wave closed out, sending Jungkook tumbling into the water. The slap to his chest left him winded but he surfaced only a moment after his board bobbed, tugging his ankle by the leash. He flipped his hair back and lifted his face to the sun as he swiped the salt water from his eyes. Didn’t matter that he’d grubbed it, the ride had been excellent until then. Grubbing it was just part of the game.

With a lighter heart and a clear mind, Jungkook sloshed his way to shore to put his plan into action.

The orange envelope was on the front porch when she got home that day, tucked between the storm door and the wooden door as if the mailman had dropped it off. They often did that, even though Tim had built a big stupid UV box for packages. She couldn’t blame the mailmen for not wanting to open the lid of a heavy-looking mysterious box just to leave her latest pantry tupperware from Amazon or Tim’s Razor of the Month club or whatever, despite the insistent sign. She tried to always be the one to bring the mail in so she wouldn’t have to listen to Tim rail about packages left on the ground. He worried about that kind of thing. He thought he was the kind of person important enough for someone to send Anthrax to in the mail.

She’d grabbed the envelope on her way out to get the mail from the box, and tossed it all onto the kitchen counter since Tim was out of town and not here to gripe at her for even briefly making a mess.

“It’s unfair of me to be so critical towards him,” she scolded herself as she looked in the fridge to see what the personal chef had left her for dinner. Tim had actually been very pleasant lately. He’d finally agreed they ought to redecorate the bedroom (as long as it stayed white and gray), praised the dinner she made on a day the chef didn’t come, greeted her with daiquiris after she’d been swimming and asked her about her day as he untied the strings of her bikini. 

Look, she knew those things shuffled over a low bar when listed out of context. But the context was that he’d been working hard and stressed for a while now. The latest acquisition was so close to signing and he was sweating it but the fact he was making an effort even in the midst of that meant a lot to her. It reassured her that once they were to the other side of this period of work, things were going to even out again. Tim would go back to being a bit less of a cranky asshole. She would go back to feeling less resentful, a little more charitable about the moodswings of her hard-working husband who was doing his best to succeed in a cutthroat industry. He wanted to make a name for himself beyond what his own father had accomplished. She admired that.

While the oven preheated, she flipped through the mail, mostly junk. When she got to the envelope though, she realized it was just addressed to Mrs. Birch, no mailing address, no stamp.

Her first thought was that a friend must have dropped something off for her, only to instantly consider it would be really weird for them to address it to Mrs. Birch. None of her friends called her that. 

A client? But she never gave her personal address to anyone she worked for, there was no need for it anyway, she just had things mailed to the office space she kept.

Maybe she had forgotten something somewhere? Her license would have her name and address on it, but the salutation of Mrs. would be odd because how would the person know she was married? Unless she dropped something and they googled her? Her address was supposed to be unlisted but people had ways of searching public records.

She tore the end of the envelope open and out tumbled a CD in a jewel case. Her brow furrowed. Certainly not something she owned and left somewhere. Nothing was printed on the CD. She checked inside the envelope for any evidence of marketing material and found a folded piece of paper with a printed sentence:

Your husband is not who you think he is. He’s a fucking asshole.

Grace’s blood ran cold. 

Tim’s involved with something bad. That felt like the immediate and obvious thing. Tim worked in business and he was constantly trying to get ahead, always working upstream and feeling behind. It made sense that he might have taken what looked like help in a moment of difficulty and wound up in over his head with something. Or someone. He could be short-sighted, she’d always secretly thought that about him.

“Oh god please don’t let it be something illegal,” she murmured, hand shaking as she turned the CD over in her hand. Just how bad could it be? Extortion? Money-laundering? Murder? No. No, Tim wasn’t capable of murdering someone, what a ridiculous thought.

But dirty business, with the confidence he wouldn’t be caught….?

The fact was that in the moment, at just one sentence prompt from a mysterious source, Grace’s trust in her husband tumbled like a tower of toothpicks. Instead of debating who would be out to malign her husband, Grace fretted whether this CD was safe for her to look at, or if simply by seeing whatever was on here, she might become an accomplice. What if he’d already done things to implicate her? 

Grace was not going to prison for Tim!

Her heart pounded in her chest so painfully she felt like she couldn’t breathe. She set the CD quickly down on the counter and backed away, already contemplating whether she ought to wipe her fingerprints off. But no, no, it would make sense she opened an envelope addressed to herself. It didn’t mean she’d committed any crime–

And this didn’t mean Tim had either! She leaned against the counter and pressed her hand to her forehead.

Fuck, I’m a bad wife.

This was Tim, for fuck’s sake. He could be an asshole, the anonymous sender was right about that, but it didn’t mean he was doing anything illegal or dangerous or immoral. Probably this was some business thing, some colleague of his pissed about a move he’d made and trying to undermine him starting at home. 

…But what if it wasn’t?!

Grace’s family had been in possession of significant money for several generations. Old money. 19th century American money funded by 18th century European money. She’d been raised with warnings and stories, not paranoia but awareness that sometimes the presence of money made people think you were an easy victim. Maybe Tim wasn’t the target here, maybe she was. 

She grabbed her phone and placed a call and after only a few rings heard her father’s deep voice over the line, greeting, “Grace? What’s up, honeybell?”

“Hi Daddy, there’s a thing… it’s making me nervous so I wanted to ask…” She trailed off, realizing immediately how stupid she sounded. She should have pulled her thoughts together before calling.

“What’s the matter now? Something is what?” She could tell he was distracted over the line. Mid-day like this, he was probably out golfing, or at least at a friend’s house for the afternoon. Her dad was a creature of habit, an introvert who’d carved his safe places out over the decades they’d lived in Winnetka, Illinois. His days were predictable. 

“Sorry, Dad, I just got spooked. Someone left a weird envelope at my house with a CD and–”

“Wait, who did what now?” he interrupted. Grace felt the shudder across her shoulders at that tone in her father’s voice, even knowing it wasn’t aimed at her. He’d been casual before but pulled himself into lawyer mode in only an instant.

“I’m just being silly,” she began. That’s what her mother would say. Calling her dad, interrupting his afternoon plans, because someone left a CD on her porch and she was freaked even though she didn’t even know what was on it.

“Someone left something on your porch? What did they leave?”

“I don’t know, a CD and a printed note that says, um…” She grimaced. “It says my husband isn’t who I think he is.”

The line was silent for a moment. Grace’s father had grown to love Tim. He’d be pissed at slander aimed her husband’s direction. He’d be furious about baseless accusations.  

“You know who sent it? You know what’s on it?”

“No,” Grace said. “I called you right away.”

“Is Tim there?”

“He’s out of town.”

“All right, Grace, don’t touch a thing. Call Alan. Don’t do anything until Alan is there.”

Grace nodded as if he could see her and mused, “I don’t know whether I should call Tim. Maybe he has an idea–”

“Do not call Tim,” he interrupted. “Only Alan. Don’t talk to anyone else. He’ll bring a secure computer over to look at what’s on the CD and after that I want you to check into a hotel until this gets figured out. This person knows where you live and that your husband isn’t home–”

“So you think it’s something bad?”

“Well you do, don’t you, sweetheart? Calling me sounding like you’re having a heart attack.”

“I’m sorry, I know I’m probably overreacting–”

“No such thing with our family.”

“But it’s not like Tim is actually a bad man. The CD is probably just… I don’t know. Something stupid. Someone’s just angry at him for something…”

Grace wanted to hear her dad agree that she was overreacting. His serious response escalated her fears. She’d wanted to be talked off the ledge and instead he was calling in a SWAT team and helicopter rescue.  

“Do as I say, Grace. Call Alan now and tell me when he’s there.”

Spooked, Grace did as he said. Within thirty minutes, Alan Theodorakos stood on her doorstep straightening his cuffs and adjusting his hair in the reflection of the one-sided mirror where a window used to be in the door. One of the family’s many lawyers, Alan had worked for Grace’s parents for many years before she moved to California; now, because of proximity, he’d served as Grace’s own legal counsel any time she’d needed it, even if just to oversee her affairs with specialized attorneys such as when she’d married and when they’d bought their house. Her father was a lawyer too, of course, but financial, and he never directly handled family matters himself anyway.

“Where is the CD?” he immediately asked when Grace welcomed him in. 

“I left it on the kitchen counter.” She showed him where the jewel case lay next to the printed note and the torn envelope, her name side up. Alan took a photo of all of it and Grace felt that tremor in her stomach again. If everyone was taking this so seriously, maybe she wasn’t taking it seriously enough!

Alan had with him a laptop, just as her dad had said he would. They made only the most polite small-talk as he set it up and, with gloves, removed the CD from the case and inserted it into the tray. Grace wrapped her arms around herself and paced back and forth, afraid to look, unable to look away. 

“It’s probably nothing,” she said to herself as much as to him. “I’m probably wasting your time, it’s just some disgruntled admin assistant or something…”

Alan didn’t have anything to say to that except, “Nothing is ever a waste of my time.” Because your family pays well, he didn’t need to say. Yes she’d wanted financial independence from her family, but legal counsel was one thing she let them fund, so sue me. Except don’t, please….

“It looks like there’s a video file,” Alan said, opening the CD. The filename was automated, generic. He double-clicked to pull it up and Grace held her breath, bracing herself for something. Perhaps her imagination was running away with her –this was very impractical, yes, when she usually prided herself on being a practical person– but her dad and Alan had her fearing the worst now. Kidnapping, torture, murder. At least a secret meeting discussing some money-laundering scheme that was going to land her in court for weeks defending her oblivious innocence as Tim’s spouse. I’m sorry, your honor, I’m a fool but I’m innocent.

“Let’s see,” Alan said and hit play.

And this was how Grace wound up watching a video of her husband fucking another woman while standing next to her father’s lawyer. 

Grace’s mouth hung open. Somehow she was shocked, even when the deepest part of her brain taunted her for being so surprised. It was recent; she saw the blue flower arrangement on the kitchen counter without even needing a time stamp. She didn’t recognize the woman, but she was young and beautiful and not Grace.

“I can stop the video,” Alan murmured, reaching forward but Grace brushed his hand away. She stared, eyes glued to the screen as her heart shattered. Or her mind. Something inside of her shattered.

Every criticism, every fight, every distracted dinner and missed date and complete lack of concern for anything she cared about flew in her face now. She’d loved Tim to distraction, even when he was unfair, even when he was unkind, even when he’d been a nobody before. And now he was doing this behind her back, as if she was nothing to him! In their own home! On her own fucking kitchen counter?! 

She wanted to scream. She wanted to sob. But her upbringing trained her better than that. She turned a tight-lipped grimace to Alan and said,

“It turns out this is a private affair.” Affair. Terrible choice of words.

“Indeed,” Alan nodded. “I can provide legal counsel however you’d like to proceed.”

“For now I just need discretion…” How would she like to proceed…. Grace couldn’t fucking answer that! She still was having a hard time processing that Tim was fucking around on her. Tim! Tim, who was so focused on work and deals and dollar signs that he barely had time for her anymore, much less…. Except apparently he did!

“What would you like me to say to your father?” Alan prodded. 

Grace grimaced. There was no good answer. Her father paid Alan’s bills but he was here as her legal counsel. But if Alan gave her father a non-answer, he’d be calling her up for direct answers within minutes.

“I’ll call him,” she said, just to buy herself time. What was she going to say? It’s a private matter between Tim and I. Might as well put up a sign on the front lawn that her husband was cheating on her. And to admit that to her family! She couldn’t. There were exactly zero divorces in her family. If there had ever been infidelity, she sure didn’t know about it. A marriage was for life, and it was her job to make this marriage worked, even in the face of infidelity, especially after she’d defended this relationship so hard in the face of her family’s early concerns. God, they were going to think she was worse than an idiot!

“Very well.” Alan packed the CD back into the jewel case to leave with her, took his laptop, and bid her good day. With another offer to provide whatever help she needed, he was gone.

Grace stood alone in her kitchen and tried to make sense of this. Tim cheating. Someone filming it from within her property. Someone sending it for her to find. Some explanation she needed to give her father. A very painful conversation she needed to have with Tim without any understanding yet of what she wanted to have happen. Did she want him to grovel and apologize? Did she want the shame of being divorced and cheated on? What would her family say if she left? What would her family say if she stayed?

Grace sank down to the mat in front of the sink and tried to cry but she just felt numb. This couldn’t be real. She’d so carefully managed her life up until now. She had thought Tim was right there in the seat next to her. What was happening?!

In a brief moment of gumption, Grace called her dad and, before he could say a word, blurted out, “It turns out it’s a private matter between Tim and I. I’d rather not talk about it yet. Please don’t tell anyone else yet.” It was an impossible thing to ask, but she decided she’d try. 

A pause had her heart in her throat. She felt like so much hung in the balance: would her father defend her dignity or her marriage?

“Why don’t you and Tim come for a visit? I’d like to spend an afternoon golfing with him, man to man.”

Her marriage.

Grace said a quick goodbye before any pained sobs could escape, let her face drop to her bent knees, and tried to squeeze the tears back in. Like everything else in her life, it seemed, she failed.

The days were long this week in a way Jungkook didn’t like, but he’d picked up the extra lifeguarding hours because he needed the money. Haewon needed textbooks and that shit was expensive so he’d told her to ask him instead of their parents and then demanded to know why she wanted to be a lawyer so bad anyway. Political Science. Boring as fuck, he couldn’t believe how much money they were paying for her to be a leech. She always screeched at him when he teased her about it. He just wanted to keep her humble, that’s why he teased.

It had been hot as balls on the beach that morning and he’d been stuck near the wharf which sucked swamp ass because you had to actually do stuff: namely, chase people away when they swam too close to the pillars. Which everyone wanted to do, because there was shade, and just blowing your whistle wasn’t enough because suddenly people “couldn’t hear you” and “didn’t know the whistle meant they were doing something wrong.” So you had to drag your ass all the way over to yell at them, and then by the time you got back up to your chair, some other fucker was doing the same thing. Didn’t they look at the surf and the giant immovable objects and realize how easily the ocean could bash their puny brains out?! But if there was anything Jungkook had learned about tourists and teenagers both, it was that they had poor respect for the ocean. You had to respect the ocean. She was older and more powerful than you. Unconcerned with whether you lived or died. Sexy of her but annoying for lifeguards. 

He only had two pool cleans on his schedule today, which meant an easier afternoon before band practice tonight, so he should still have energy to fight with Taro about how they shouldn’t add more 00s rock to their regular set just because they’d managed to come in second place in that competition. The first pool was an easy job, and the second was the one he both looked forward to and dreaded the most: The Birches. 

This time last week, he’d chickened out dropping the envelope off, only to go back and do it later that day when the guilt ate at him. Now he wished he’d waited until the end of the season in two weeks so he wouldn’t have to see them again for a while; while most people kept their heated pools running year-round here, the Birches closed theirs at the end of summer so he was almost free of them. He’d never understood why. It was heated and this was southern Cali. He’d be swimming in that baby 365 days a year. 

But he’d dropped the envelope and sprinted away and today would be the first opportunity to see if the bomb he dropped had done any damage. It gave him a nervous twitch, because what if he’d done the wrong thing? What if they knew it was him? 

What if he was going to get arrested as soon as he showed up?!

Still he went, because he wasn’t someone to turn away from an unpleasant task, no matter how scary. And he needed to get paid. Maybe nobody would be there again, like last week…

The garage was closed but he glimpsed three cars through the windows after he’d parked in the driveway –Mr. Birch hated that. Well Jungkook hated douchebags who cheated on their wives. And walking further to get to the pool than he had to after lifeguarding all morning. 

The missing car was Mr. Birch’s. Jungkook felt his skin tingle but ignored it, uninterested in nerves. Instead he prepared himself to knock on the back door, per usual, so Mrs. Birch would know he was here and unfortunately not accidentally walk out in revealing clothing–

Except Mrs. Birch was in the pool. In the pool. Jungkook froze like a bank burglar just inside the pool gate as her faked-blonde head surfaced from the water. Her eyes remained closed as she pushed her hair back, water droplets spraying as she panted for breath, emphasizing her collarbones and long neck. 

Fuck. Fuck! Red alert! 

Jungkook just stared as she grabbed the edge of the pool to hold herself steady as she swiped the water from her face. She looked tired, out of breath, like she’d been swimming hard for a while, not just lounging around for a dip.

Is she the swimmer then? Jungkook didn’t find it surprising at all to learn this about her but it made him happy, like this somehow confirmed she was the good person he’d always thought she was. Of course she was the swimmer. They both loved the water. And damn did she look good doing it, even just bobbing there as she pushed her hair back from her shoulders. 

White bathing suit.

Jesus Christ, Jungkook was going to hit the deck. His brain attempted to save him without thinking through the consequences: he cleared his throat. It was rude. It was out of line. It wasn’t at all what he’d meant to do but someone had pulled the fire alarm in his head and that was the result. 

Mrs. Birch spun quickly to face him, clearly started, and gasped, “Oh! Shit!”

The fantasy that hadn’t even begun to spin yet –that she had done this on purpose for him– died in its cradle. 

“I’m so sorry, is it– are you early?” she asked. Her bare face looked at him with such surprise and alarm that he actually felt too bad to ogle her the way he wanted to. 

“Ah, um… I don’t… think so,” he mumbled. Actually he was later than usual but he didn’t want to argue with her. “I can come back later?” He couldn’t, it was already late afternoon. Well, he could. He would! If she wanted him to.

“No no, I’m sorry, let me get out of your way.” 

He watched with a semi he’d deny to his grave as she gracefully swam to the ladder and pulled herself up like a fucking centerfold. It was a one piece, he realized with no disappointment because the cutouts at the side showed smooth waist and water streamed down her bare shoulderblades and exposed back– but fuck he couldn’t tell if the tattoo was there or not, the bottom rose too high over her ass. She almost caught him staring when she turned to wrap the towel she’d set on the lounge chair, except his brain had leapt immediately to nipple patrol–

Fuck! He didn’t get a good look as his brain caught up with his stare and he immediately averted his eyes, leaving her to cover herself with the towel not under his blown-out gaze. Shit! He was around hot chicks in bathings suits all the time! Why now did his brain decide to run away….

“I completely lost track of time. Um…” She paused and then gestured to the pool with one hand as if to tell him to carry on, then fled into the house.

Jungkook just stood there for a moment. He’d never seen Mrs. Birch –or anyone for that matter– in the pool before, though legend said they used it, at least for parties sometimes. He felt a sense of pride now to know she really did, and that she looked so damn good in it. He sauntered to the edge to survey his work and felt his satisfaction grow further at the confirmation that he kept this pool in good shape. It looked great right now. He wouldn’t have to do much today, clean the filters, maybe nothing else. Now he felt bad to have chased her off. He could have done that while she kept swimming. He wouldn’t mind. 

Damn. He was going to be thinking about this for a long time.

White bathing suit, huh? 

He grabbed the outdoor trash and some gloves to get to work on the filters, in the hopes he could wrap it up quickly and she could slide right back in. But just as he was finishing up, she reappeared from the house in loose lounge clothes with her hair piled up on top of her head and a bamboo tray with his drink and snacks in her hands.

“You didn’t have to,” he called to her, “I won’t be long today. Pool looks good. Are you using it a lot lately?”

Her head tilted as she set the tray down and asked, “Yes, I’ve been out here every day lately. You can tell?”

It was mostly a lie as he shrugged, “If you’re swimming a lot, the motion sends the detritus into the filters. If no one’s swimming, it sits on top.” Detritus. Haewon had used that word a couple weeks ago and he’d latched onto it because it sounded more professional than shit.

“Oh, that makes sense.”

“Yeah?”

She glanced at the pool and he got the feeling something was bothering her. Which made sense, considering the whole bomb on her doorstep thing, now that his head had cleared enough to remember that. For a moment he thought she knew it was him and was going to ask him about it. Of course she’d figure it out, she seemed smart, or he’d missed something obvious in covering his tracks…

“Well I won’t bother you while you finish.”

“You’re not a bother,” he assured her. Her smile was small and didn’t reach her eyes as she turned to go. He reached for the drink out of obligation, because really he didn’t have anything more to do but he couldn’t just leave the things she’d brought for him sitting there. It felt unappreciative. Also it was free.

She must be hot in the long-sleeved lounge top, although the fabric was thin. The shorts rode high, showing off her thighs as she headed back towards the house. He realized she could see his reflection in the windows and squinted to look out over the pool as if he was lost in thought when she suddenly stopped walking, hand on the door. 

When she turned, arms sliding across to sort of hold herself, Jungkook felt that nervous flutter. Oh no. Busted staring at her ass. Caught. He felt like a kid again, he’d fucked up and it was time to get in trouble. He gave into the urgent need to have his hands full, so he popped open the bag of chips and shoveled a handful into his mouth as she came back.

“Hey,” she said, voice softer and less certain than he’d ever heard her before. Her whole body seemed to curl in on itself miserably, a far cry from the way she’d pushed up from the pool half an hour ago. “I just wanted to ask you– when you were here last time, did you happen to see anyone drop off something? On my front porch?”

His eyes went wide. He chomped down, accidentally getting his cheek too, and cursed as he pressed his finger to the outside of it. She just watched him and he realized with a burst of paranoia how fucking guilty he looked. He sucked at lying. He was terrible at lying, especially when he really was guilty as shit!

“Oh, um…” he fumbled, swallowing the Cheetos down and licking the residue off his finger. He licked his lips nervously, feeling like there was orange powder there too. “From back here? What package?” Playing stupid was better than outright lying, even if saying he’d seen someone else do it would probably do a better job of getting him out of the hot seat. 

She shifted her weight and chewed on the inside of her cheek, exactly where he’d just accidentally bitten on his own, and this similarity sent another wave of guilt rolling over him. He was lying to her. Fuck. Was he any better than Mr. Birch?! Shitothy Smirch? Eh, not his best work for taunting names….

“Ok, if you didn’t see anything… I just thought…” A cascade of emotions crossed her face, so raw and unpoised compared to the normally polite and neutral look she had with him, that Jungkook felt himself chipping further apart. She looked miserable, her face even redder than it had been just getting out of the pool. “Someone left an orange envelope for me,” she said. Fuck, were her eyes watering?!!? “I don’t know who but I’m trying to find out who so I can talk to them about it before–”

“It was me,” he blurted out as he suddenly realized how fucking scary this must be for her. “I left the envelope and I’m really sorry–”

He cut off as Mrs. Birch started to cry. Not quite burst into tears the way he might have expected, but she drew in a shaky breath and the tears he’d suspected managed to sneak out and she pressed her hands to her face.

The impulse to reach for her was hard to deny but he did. Obviously he couldn’t touch this woman he barely knew and whose marriage he’d just exposed as a sham. Plus he had Cheeto dust on his fingers and her clothes were light colored. He’d done enough already! It would be wrong! But it was hard to watch her upset and not comfort her.

“I’m sorry,” he said again in desperation. “I swear I’m not trying be a dick or anything, I just thought you should know.”

He saw her draw air in like strength and push her hands back through her hair, fortifying herself, before demanding with a strong expression that didn’t match the tears on her cheek, “So you filmed it and left an anonymous package on my porch?”

He pulled back, defenses instantly activated. Fuck. Had he misjudged? Had she already known? Did she not care? Fuck! All his friends had told him not to get involved but he’d wanted to be this hero and now he’d really fucked himself.

“I, uh, I thought you should know,” he stammered again. “But maybe you wouldn’t want anyone else to know? I wasn’t going to blackmail him or anything. It’s private for you so I didn’t want to blow up your spot–”

“But obviously someone knew, the person who took the video! And I didn’t know who it was until I watched the security footage and then I thought it was you but–”

“Ah I thought I had my hat on low enough…” he mumbled.

She gave him a baffled look and pointed out, “You still look and walk like yourself– but I didn’t know if I was wrong or who was filming from inside my backyard and it was just really scary…” She trailed off and suddenly sat down on the lounge chair, threatening to upend the bamboo tray. She covered her face again. She took another of those deep bracing breaths.

“Shit, I’m really sorry scared you,” he said, sinking onto the second one to face her.  “I just felt bad about it.”

“Why?! You weren’t fucking someone else in our–” She broke herself off and that spark of rage tossed him around another loop. He didn’t know her, he didn’t know her emotional processes, he didn’t know how she was handling this thing he’d opened her eyes too, and yet he felt unavoidably anchored here with her in this moment. How would he handle this in her shoes? He sure didn’t know, but he thought he’d do an even worse job of holding himself together.

“Yeah but I didn’t mean to scare you. I just thought you should know your husband is a fucking piece of shit.” The words rolled out without any hesitation because he was.

But it brought Mrs. Birch up short. She looked shocked, as if she somehow hadn’t realized what the video showed, and for a moment he forgot she had just referenced it and worried she hadn’t actually watched and he’d just done exactly what he had hoped to avoid: verbally give her this news. Instead she blinked slowly at him. 

He meant to say sorry if that was too blunt but what actually came out was, “You deserve better than that.” He wasn’t actually sorry about that.

“Like you?”

“Wait, what?!” he cried, and jumped to his feet and stepped back so quickly he tripped on the lounger and fell onto his ass, tangled up in his own sandals. “No! I– what? I don’t have anything to do with this! I just–”

“I’m sorry,” she gasped this time, and covered her face again. “Oh god, I’m so sorry, I just…”

He’d scraped his palm in the fall; she didn’t seem to have even noticed that he did something so fucking clownish. Everything was all fucked up right now, she was all fucked up he understood now. That’s why she seemed all over the place.  

“Hey, it’s ok, it’s ok. Look, I swear I don’t have any shitty motives.” He eased back onto the lounger, ignoring the burn of his hand. “I didn’t want to get involved with your personal business. I just couldn’t believe he’d do that to you and I didn’t think you’d believe me if I just told you so I… but yeah, you don’t deserve to be treated like that.”

Her voice was barely a whisper as she lowered her hands, eyes on her knees, “I would have believed you.”

“Damn.” He stopped himself from saying more. But damn that was a bad marriage if you’d believe your poolguy that your husband was banging someone else without even providing proof. She must have already known then that she’d married an asshole. That made him both very happy (Mrs. Birch is not like him!) and very sad for her (Mrs. Birch is married to someone who doesn’t deserve her!)

Watching her struggle to compose herself was distressing. He wished she would just cry it out hard. She’d feel better and he’d feel better too. Instead it was like watching her hurt herself further trying to keep the tears locked in when they so obviously wanted to come out. 

“Who else did you show that video to?” she asked, gaze lifting to meet his. Her words sounded fiercer than her face looked, though her expression was still sort of scary. Sharp. “Or tell about… this?”

“No one,” he said, hoping a quick response would hide that it wasn’t entirely true. “Who would I tell? Why? I don’t even like knowing about it and I don’t know anyone who knows you–”

“You didn’t like upload it to the internet or– Reddit or something–”

“Fuck, no.” The goodwill he’d felt after she had said she’d have believed him evaporated and he felt as scummy as her cheating husband. “I don’t post that kind of shit anyway but even– I would never do that to you. Why would I do that–”

“I don’t know, for money, for clout, for revenge because Tim has been rude to you–”

Jungkook pushed to his feet as the heat rose in his cheeks, tingling up his neck. Apparently she’d believe him that her husband was cheating but not his own promise that he wasn’t blackmailing anyone. That she thought so lowly of him was the bullet through every last fantasy he’d harbored. No one had ever thought so badly of him as Mrs. Birch apparently did. Except maybe Mr. Birch.

“I said I wasn’t blackmailing,” Jungkook grumbled and turned to go because there was nothing else to say here.

Her hand suddenly on his arm stopped him dead in his tracks; she had leapt up and caught him quickly.

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you, it’s just… you wouldn’t be the first person who realized they could use something like this against my family.”

“Your family?” He made a face, ignoring the hiccup in his chest at her fingers curled against his arm. Just as quickly she let go. “I don’t know anything about your family and I don’t care. I just wanted to let you know in case you didn’t, that’s it.”

It was like she hadn’t heard a word he said and continued, “And just think about it from my perspective. This is a private matter that I want to handle privately.”

“Well I’m not telling anyone,” he huffed, frustrated by the ongoing accusations.

“Do you still have the video? Will you delete it in front of me?”

“I already deleted it,” he said, but still fished out his phone. “You think I wanted that on my phone? It’s in my trash.”

“Yeah but will you permanently delete it? Please? I’m sorry I insulted you, I’m just… stressed right now.”

He paused, phone unlocked, showing a picture of the beach behind his apps. It softened the edge of her accusation to be reminded that the inciting incident of all of this was learning that her husband was cheating on her and the pool tech knew. That sucked. From her perspective, if he was in her shoes, he’d be hurt and distrustful too. She was just upset. 

“I get it,” he told her. “No problem, you can watch me permanently delete it.” He opened up the ‘Recently Deleted’ folder on his phone as she leaned in to look, only for his stomach to cramp as he discovered just how many deleted selfies filled the rows ahead of the video. No dick pics thank fuck but still, it was embarrassing for her to see three rows of him posing in the bathroom without a shirt –he’d been trying to get a good one for his dating profile, ok?--, and he tried to cover them subtly with his fingers as he quickly tapped the video and then ‘Permanently Delete’ before it could begin to play. Too late did he realize how close she was standing, and that she smelled like something fresh and clean and mildly floral, and that her loose top had slid down her shoulder.

She pulled away and crossed her arms and nodded as she said, “Thank you.” She must have seen the photos but didn’t give any sign of it.

“Yeah, no problem.”

“I mean for telling me, too. I know it’s… awkward. It’s easier to mind your own business when it’s something uncomfortable but I’m glad that I know now. So thank you for telling me but now please forget that you know.”

“Yeah of course, I don’t know anything. I hope you get to keep your house in the divorce and I’ll keep the pool looking great.” He meant it as a joke, kind of. He was serious about it, but he hoped the tone shift could free them both from this moment that was even beyond awkward. Sustained emotionality wore him out. Guarding the wharf was easier than this for sure.

“I don’t know what I’m doing yet,” she said with utmost seriousness, with a shake of her head as if the idea was an annoying fly buzzing in her ear.

“Uh… what? How can you not know? The guy’s cheating on you, so leave his ass and wring him dry in the divorce,” he scoffed. As if he knew all about it! But it was just such an obvious next step, he couldn’t fathom she would do anything else. Good riddance to the fuckwad!

The effect on her was immediate: her hands dropped and she leaned away and got this scowl on her face that would have been sexy as hell if she hadn’t been almost defending that guy.

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is that simple.”

“It’s not. Marriage is complicated, especially one like ours, it’s not always easy and–”

“Well he pissed on that marriage when he started fucking other people, didn’t he?”

“How dare you?” The sexiness evaporated from her glare as it hardened, as his own words caught up to him.

“Fuck, sorry, I know it’s not my business–” He held his hands up, choosing to apologize even though in his gut he wanted to say more. See? He was bad at this! He really just wanted to comfort her and instead he was fucking it up because he just couldn’t stand to hear her insist there was anything salvageable about that wad of snot.

“You’re right, it’s not. Thank you for telling me about what’s going on but that’s where your judgment ends. You don’t know anything about us or our life or–”

“You’re right, I don’t. I do know he’s a piece of shit though and that you deserve better.”

“And how many times have you been married, since you’re such an expert on marital conflict–”

“Zero times,” he answered. “But when I do get married, I sure won’t treat my wife the way that asshole treats you. You’ve been apologizing for his shit since I started cleaning your pool and I may be just the pool guy but I see all kinds of people and I know a piece of shit when I see one. Whatever you think is worth staying married to him for, you’re wrong. That’s all I know. So whatever, you can report me to my boss and I can have someone else come clean your pool now or whatever but yeah, you’re better off without him.”

“Well thank you for not leaving that sage wisdom in a cryptic package on my doorstep this time,” she snapped. 

Jungkook knew he’d gone too far. He’d stepped completely into their bullshit. He couldn’t help it! He was typically slow to erupt but good luck once he got going, and he was going now, because this was the 21st century and a woman didn’t need to stay with a fucker like that for anything! And to stand there and have her possibly saying thanks for telling me but I’m going to stay with him, I don’t mind him treating me like gum on his shoe– how was he supposed to silently endorse that! 

He was too worked up to think of anything to say back so he just said, “Yeah, you’re welcome. You deserve better.” It was a stupid thing to sound so angry saying. He’d think of something better int he shower later. 

“Why, because I give you snacks while you clean our pool? You don’t know anything about me or what kind of person I am, JK. Maybe I did deserve this.”

“No way.”

“But you don’t know!”

If he hadn’t already known it in his gut, he knew it was true now, as the anger on her face wavered and he saw, just for one brief moment, raw grief. For one moment she had that look that in the movies makes a guy take up his sword and march off to war or whatever. She looked like a vulnerable, hurting person, not some rich caricature of a human, and that was exactly why he had stepped into this so far and couldn’t even regret it even if he knew he was making an ass of himself.

Just as quickly it was mostly gone, all except a soft, downward turn of her mouth. She had color on her lips which struck Jungkook as a little strange to have put on after the pool but he supposed Mrs. Birch wanted to always be put together. It was not a helpful train of thought –I could undo her combined with but she’s so sad right now and trying to hide it, isn’t she?-- and he looked away. He didn’t know what else to say. He wasn’t used to this kind of dramatic exchange. He didn’t have stamina for it. Usually if he was fighting with a woman he just let her say her peace and then she left and that was the end, there were only a few times he really got into it.

But telling Mrs. Birch she ought to divorce her husband was worth it.

“I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore,” she admitted with a deep, tired sigh. “I need to go. Thank you for bringing all of this to my attention, but please, forget everything.”

“You got it, boss,” he mumbled. It was awkward. He felt deflated now.

She wasn’t going to leave her husband. That’s what he’d just learned. And the idea that a good woman would stay with a shitty man just flooded him with despair. Romance was dead, marriage was a sham, and there was no justice. His dad had divorced his mom and there were even kids involved, so what did Mrs. Birch think made it so impossible for her? But he didn’t feel like saying that to her now. He felt like he’d just burned what minor threads had connected them, and maybe it had been necessary in order for her to know about her husband, but selfishly he wondered now if it had been worth it. If she wasn’t even going to leave him, maybe she wished Jungkook had just kept his mouth shut. Maybe he should have.

“JK, I…”

He’d never know what she was going to say because after a grimace rolled across her face, she turned and went inside. Leaving him to finish the job he was paid to do, cleaning the fucking pool.

Chapter One | Masterlist | Chapter Three