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azure7539arts · 6 years

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The International (Part 2)

Rating: General

Premise: Q, a private detective, has received a new case to look into.

► Other parts: (1)

The fact that they’re meeting in a nightclub really just amps the shady level up to a… five if this is supposed to be on a scale from 0 to 10.

Not too bad, Q supposes.

He’s eyeing the entrance to see how best to approach this when a tall, bulky man—most likely a bouncer—comes up to him, asks if he’s Q, then, upon receiving a confirmation, leads him inside, cutting through an entire long line of people queuing to enter the club.

Flashing LED colored lights plunge the place into a strange rhythm that’s off tune compared to the music in the background… not that the mass of people people currently writhing and grinding on the dance floor appear to mind, of course.

Just off to the side are the ‘private’ booths, separated from the outside by curtains (so one can decide on how private that actually depending on one’s own sensibility), and Q finds himself standing in front of the very last one in the row once the bouncer has walked away after apparently completing his mission of leading Q to where he needs to be.

With one inhaled breath and a mental what the hell, Q pushes the curtain out of the way and slips inside.

There are two men occupying the semi-circular plush couch that makes up most of enclosed space, both of whom are blond with remarkably piercing eyes.

It takes Q a bit to realize that he hasn’t moved or said anything for nearly four seconds.

“Good evening,” the one with blue eyes between these strangers begins, an easy smile slipping onto his lips as he leans forward in his seat. “You must be Q.”

Even though the other one—the man with green eyes, longer blond hair, and half a face full of what seem like burn scars—doesn’t say anything, hasn’t even quite reacted yet, Q can still feel an assertive sort of aura oozing from his every pore.

“I am.” Q nods, moving now to sit down at the edge of the sofa, keeping a respectable distance. “Which one of you is Richard Sterling?”

At this, both men seem marginally amused that Q is cutting right to the chase instead of wasting time.

“I am,” Blue Eyes replies, the smirk playing on his lips looking to have every potentials of taking on a cruel twist. “Would you like a drink, Q?”

Q thinks about it for moment and says, “Sure.”

Sterling presses a button at the side of the table which quickly prompts a server to enter and take Q’s order. To his credit, Q’s expression remains unchanged by the time he turns back to the other two men, whose silent presence alone seems already enough to make said poor server slightly nervous.

“You stated in the preliminary questions that you are looking for a missing person?” Q begins, and upon receiving a nod, continues with: “Any reason why you aren’t contacting the proper authority?”

Sterling quirks an eyebrow at him, but before he can say anything, Green Eyes cuts in: “We don’t want any copper here.” He leans forward now, too, and from the slightly exasperated look in Sterling’s face and his general lack of any real desire to rectify the situation, this isn’t the first time he’s done this—taking control of the conversation, that is. “Look, if you don’t want to—...”

“You don’t want the police snooping around because you’re the head of the Amber Gang, aren’t you.” It really isn’t a question, and from the way their eyes go frosty in barely a fraction of a second, despite their unchanging postures, Q can tell that he just hit home run… Or something. He’s never been very good at baseball anyway. “It’s really not that difficult to piece the clues together, you know.”

Amber has been one of the most active gangs in this city. They’re not the most brutal, but they’re smart, efficient, and ruthless if necessary. Of course, not everything attributed to Amber circulating on the news is true (not at any allegation sticks), but Q has heard enough (and has actively searched for it, out of curiosity, enough) to know that the leader of this gang has a description that almost exactly matches Sterling here. And the regularly spotted companion, who is Green Eyes over there, doesn’t really help with all this so-called secrecy, which is pretty lousy, to be honest.

And Q says as much because he knows that between not saying and consequently getting murdered for being mistaken as someone sent by a rival gang, and saying and only possibly getting murdered… he has the obvious choice.

Eve will so lock him up after this should she ever find out.

Once he finishes his analysis, Q sits still, tries to regulate his breathing and any other outward physical projections of his swelling nervousness (ha, you’re only nervous now?), and calculates the ways in which he can maneuver out of here more or less alive if worse comes to worst.

Green Eyes leans closer to ‘Sterling’ and whispers something, the cold gleam of his eyes piercing in the dim light of the booth. Whatever he said, it has ‘Sterling’ chuckling, the sound deep inside his throat, husky and warm, and Q quickly turns back to counting all the possible entry and exit points that he previously spotted when the bouncer was leading him in.

“Come on,” ‘Sterling’ says and stands suddenly, hands already automatically buttoning up his jacket. “We’ll tell you the job on the way.”

Q blinks then elects to show his cards and have his distrust on full display, refusing to stand up yet.

This just, not so surprisingly, makes their smirks grow that bit more shark like.

“Don’t worry,” ‘Sterling’ reassures with what he must think to be his most soothing voice. (Or is it the other way around?) “We won’t bite.”

Q sighs but eventually relents and straightens up as well, smoothing down his parka. “Look, don’t get me wrong,” he begins. “It’s not that I don’t like following clients who don’t even give me their real names to an unknown second location, it’s just that…” He shakes his head slowly, gently. “I don’t like it.”

He smiles wryly, and somehow, this seems to take them aback a little.

But really, if they expect for everyone in their lives to just mindlessly listen them, they have hired the wrong detective.

“For a person who calls himself Q, you sure have a lot of conditions,” Green Eyes finally drawls, exasperated, maybe, but probably not that irritated.

Q shrugs, “It’s just how I do business, I’m afraid. Aside from what you just pointed out, the information you have on me taken from our office, is transparent.” Mostly. They don’t need to know that.

Green Eyes can barely suppress his eye-roll.

‘Sterling’ just sucks in a breath as his eyes flicker to the side, amusement infusing in his smile now. “You can call me James,” he says in the end. “And this is Alec.”

Q concedes a nod. These actually feel like real names. “Nice to meet you James. Alec.”

They arrive at a flat block just twenty minutes away from the club, and it’s mostly quiet all around, except for the occasional dog barks and echoing police sirens in the far distance. The streets are wet from all the rain that poured down on them in the afternoon, but that’s pretty much typical London anyway.

“Her name is Nellie. She disappeared from her flat two days ago without a trace… nothing that we can find anyway,” James explains as they climbs the stairs up.

Q says nothing about using the lift because he figures it’s a gangster thing, and also probably because he shouldn’t be pushing it. There’s something they’re not telling him from the looks of things, but if it’s relevant enough to the case, it’ll emerge itself sooner or later.

In a way, Q knows that he’s being reckless, but this is also a trial. As he has explained in the email he sent them prior to their meeting, he always has a trial period of going through the evidences (considering that they refused to come to the office to meet him), and if it’s worth it, then he’ll take the case on. It’s always been how he operates, and he isn’t about to let two gangsters cow him into doing otherwise… even if he imagines that they can be quite convincing should they want to.

“We’ve left her flat as untouched as possible,” James continues. “And CCTV pulled from the building and hall outside has been doctored, considering they don’t yield much of anything.”

Q hums. He’ll give them credit for being thorough, but then again, they won’t have survived here this long without some brains behind their conducts.

“No sign of forced entry,” Q mumbles as they stop at what must be the door to this missing Nellie, and reaches into his pocket to slip on his gloves.

They go in after Alec unlocks the door, and quickly, Q is already taking in the entire environment, absorbing the details and leaving them aside for later analysis.

“Is she any good at computers? Cybernetworking?”

The place is sparsely decorated with few pieces of clothing strewn around here and there and a few random objects scattered across open surfaces, per usual of any lived in spaces. Besides a seemingly undisturbed bookshelf, the closet appears to have been emptied out, a couple of hangers fallen haphazardly on the floor, and a number of drawers are open as well.

“She is.” James exchanges a glance with Alec. “We did find this.” He leans over to a dresser and pulls out a drawer to retrieve a tablet, and honestly, Q sort of feels like this is part of the reason why these two hire him, other than the fact that he’s a third party to this entire thing, of course.

Q takes the device into his hand and examines it critically. As expected, there’s a password lock, but if Nellie here really is decent at cybernetworking, then she probably has other safety precautions installed along the way beyond this initial locked door, too.

“I can have this analyzed for results,” Q says thoughtfully.

“Does that mean you’re taking the case?” James chimes in, sounding a little too amused, honestly.

“Who would find poor Nellie here if you two refuse to get the police involved anyway?” Q suppresses the urge to roll his eyes—not that he does anything stop the slightly annoyed sigh that tumbles out of his nostrils.

“We’ll pay you handsomely. Don’t worry.” The grin on James’s lips is wolfish, but it’s late, and Q is really a little too interested in finding out the content of this tablet to really make a jabbing remark about it.

“As long as I get to walk away and actually spend the money,” Q mutters under his breath.

“As long as you don’t cross us, then there’s really nothing to be concerned over,” Alec replies, and Q nearly snorts. Nearly.

Because, between the two of them, Alec actually looks like the one who will probably drag Q to a back alley and shoot him down, given half a reason.

Well, whatever it is, Q thinks to himself, taking another look around the small flat, she most probably left of her own accord. But if this is true, then it means that some unsavory figure has infiltrated Amber.

Q’s eyes flickers over to the other two men in the room. And James and Alec know it.

This is not just a simple search for a missing woman in the gang, it’s also them trying to have an internal sweep as well.

“I’ll be sending you a contract in the morning, then,” Q says, starting back toward the door.

“What contract?” James raises an eyebrow.

“Proof of confidence, you can call it.” Q shrugs. “Considering that you two are my clients, it’ll be foolish of me indeed not to have some form of personal insurance.”

Alec looks like he may say something, but James’s grasp stops him. “Fair enough.” He smiles, like a true businessman. “Your deadline for analyzing the tablet should be by 12 PM sharp tomorrow, then.”

Q smirks, knowing a game when he sees one. “Plenty of time.”

The call came in bright and chirpy the next morning at 7 AM. Sharp.

“It’s a diary,” was what Q said the second James picked up.

(tbc.)

[Prompts: London + Diary]

#My writing #teamqbranch #007 fest #007 fest 2018 #QB-R1

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givemesnekboiasap · 6 years

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I Could Be...

@cherryb0mb79 sorry for the long delay, here is the long awaited retributory doujinshi of Mitsuhide. I hoped it will live up to your expectations, kinda long about 5 pages worth, I cannot do short, LOL

For those not familiar, here’s the link to the story written by @ikesenhell https://ikesenhell.tumblr.com/post/173529184156/can-we-pretend-that-were-in-love/embed . Please read this before scrolling down.

I wrote this because I cannot stand watching him in agony, >,< T.T

p.s. I refer to this song for inspiration: https://youtu.be/CXchR2BGwcA ( Shane Filan ft. Nadine Coyle - I Could Be )

Mitsuhide stands in the cold long after he finishes his last stick of cigarette, and he’s running out of excuses to stay outside in the darkness. Sooner rather than later, someone is going to remember his forgotten presence and he hoped it to be anyone but Her...except maybe Hideyoshi too. There is only so much a man can take before something drastic happens. He watches the door next to him akin to a ticking time bomb, which is something out of character.

...She’s only one who could reduce me to this frame of mind...if Masamune gets the wind of this, I’m never going to live this down...

The click of the lock from the said door interrupted his thoughts, his eyes cannot helped but be drawn towards it. A lone female, with long hair in neon green, all braided up into a coronet, stepping out into the parking lot. He blinks, the first thought is, that hair has an obtrusive effect on the senses. When he starts to pay close attention to her appearance, it looks to him that she’s all deck in every shades of green he could identify and more, some of the shades he questions its existence.

She looked like a female version of Hideyoshi...though, she can give him a run for the money when it comes to color coordination…

It’s a running joke that everyone has a colour preference when it comes to dressing up since college and somehow everyone stuck to their choices despite graduation. Just when he starts to feel safe, that female turns towards his direction and walks towards him. Mitsuhide can hear the cackling sound of Fate echoing in his ears as she draws nearer.

“You’re Akechi-san, yes? I was sent to bring you in by the hostess herself.” It is an interesting feeling to actually meet eye-to-eye with a female other than Her. Most females tend to watch the others more than him. The sudden urge to tease just struck him and he decides to just go with it.

“..Oh?..And what makes you think I am this person you’re seeking, hm?...”

He nearly chuckled aloud when she pulses her lips in a disgruntled manner. Taking a deep breath, she replied. “I was told you’ll be difficult, and to expect someone who uses verbal banter to tease. Seems to me you fit that requirement.”

Eyebrows shot up at the counter remark, Mitsuhide narrowed his eyes, shooting her a look that usually have people scurrying away in fright. He wants her cowering in his presence before he teases the hell out of her. Not quite liking a female to best him in his speciality. Instead, the female stared at him, her eyes seems to be searching something. Just as he was about give into the urge to voice his exasperation, she broke off the staring match by turning away first.

“I don’t know what is troubling you and I doubt you’ll confine to a total stranger like myself, but you shouldn’t be alone with whatever thoughts hovering inside you. I can see it just beyond your gaze. Give me 2 minutes, tops. I’ll let them know and be back......”

“...! No...wait...” Mitsuhide reaches out and grabs hold of her wrist, holding her back. She halt her tracks, waiting. With the back against the country club, her eyes and expression are hidden by the glare of the lights emitting from the building. “Do you have any with you?”

“Huh?” She tilts her head slightly, the gesture eerily similar to Her that it shook him more than he realised. He forces himself to relax and puts on his scrimtar smile.

“Cigarettes, or were you thinking of something…...” Her sudden blush at his scruinity as he brings himself closer to her, invading her space, nearly made his lips twitch. Hurriedly, she twists her arm away from him and take two steps away. Holding her wrist close to her chest, she nods back and reaches to her back pocket. Mitsuhide catches the blue and white box as she tosses it to him after she draws a stick out.

…………

……

…...this feels comfortable, despite the prolonged stay out in the cold, taking a drag with someone other than the usual crowd……

Mitsuhide looks down at his smoking companion, puffing her stick like a smoking chimney. Each puff causes a grimace to appear on her face. Soon she finishes her share and close her eyes as she leans against the lamp post they were hanging out under. Mitsuhide racks his brain over her presence, he doesn’t mind the companionship offered and the silence between them do not require any conversation to fill in. However, curiosity compels him to answer one question: why her and not the other guys?

As if she heard his unspoken thoughts, he hear her voice, clear as a bell chime. “The others, meaning your friends, actually wanted to come out looking for you and asked her about it. After overhearing the content of the conversation you had with her, I volunteered.” Then she starts to chuckle, her lips, jade green in colour, something that should have looked repulsive but on her, it’s actually alluring…...

“What’s their reaction towards your decision?” Mitsuhide knows Masamune would have fought for it, Nobunaga might have considered it, Hideyoshi could have gone either way; jump at the chance, if only to put Princess’s mind at ease, or stay back to soothe her. Ieyasu only bother to react if he’s really in trouble. As for Mitsunari, well, that’s something else altogether.

She is grinning now, her lips a wide curve on her face. “Oh, the eyepatch guy, I think Date-san, he’s quite verbal about fetching you. The groom, Hideyoshi-san, he looks indecisive, so I’m guessing he’s a no-go. The leader of the pack, Oda-sama, he’s like smirking at something as he watches from the barstool he’s perched on. The others I have no impression at all...Ahh……” She starts to shuffle her feet, not making at eye contact with him.

If he’s not mistaken, that’s guilt on her face before she breaks off, “...What did you promise?”

“......Erh...I made a bet with Masamune, I mean Date-san, to be honest….” she shrugs her shoulders. “It’s okay, you know. I mean, it was made out of jest, so there’s no reason for you to kn…..”

“I’ll be the judge of that…...what did you bet with Masamune...no, with the rest of them?” She rolls her eyes at the demanding tone, and Mitsuhide’s lips twitches at her overly dramatic expressions at his insistence.

“....kiss...that’s all…...” she mutters under her breath. The silver haired male blinks at that single word utter from her lips, wondering if he imagined it. Keeping his face stoic, he asks her to repeat. This time, he heard everything, even though it’s not much louder from her previous pitch.

...the bet is a kiss from you, on my lips, my lipstick on your lips...that’s all…

Mitsuhide might not have known this female for long, but based off first impression, she doesn’t seem like someone who would force anything on others nor do anything reckless unless……

“What’s the prize?” he asked. She looks at him, her eyes round in surprise, “...How did you...”

“I’m familiar with the mindset of those lots, there’s always a catch if you make a bet with either Masamune, Nobunaga or myself. So bear that in mind the next time if the offer is too good to be true.” Mitsuhide paused, his words reverberate in his mind.

Why am I warning her when this could be the only time we’ll ever see each other…

Shaking his head mentally, he waits for her reply. The promise of one favor per person, in this case, five promises, given unconditionally, had him sighing aloud. Of course, it has to be something significant to her, darn those guys…… “What happens if you loses the bet?”

“I have to dance with your friends…...it’s really okay, you know. I can accept the loss…...” she trails off, writhing her fingers as she looks at anything but him.

“...Oh really...what if I don’t want you to lose, hm?” Some devil must have gotten a hold of his tongue, because he is not believing what is being utter out from his mouth, but it’s too late…...those words have been spoken and hung between them.

She looks up at him, astonishment evident on her fine features. “Are you alright? Having a fever or something?” She stretches out and touch his forehead with her hand.

...its ice cold...am I having a temperature….or is it…

He grabs the hand on his head; he’s not having a fever, she’s freezing herself by staying with him out in the cold. Cursing himself for not noticing, he hastenly pulls her into his embrace, knocking the breath out of her lungs. Even with his overcoat on, he could feel the coolness of her body as her reddened nose nuzzling on his shoulder. It never occur to him to remove his coat for her, but his instincts tells him this way is better

“...Akechi...mmm, you could...”

“...Hush…...not until you have warmed up...”

“...but...”

“......shhhhhhh...” he whispers into her ear, causing her body to react by shivering involuntary.

“............” he could sense her reluctance as she comply to his request

“...what’s your name?.....it just occur to me that though you know who I am, I’m left in the dark as to who you were...”

Laughter bubbles out from her mouth, being muffled by his chest. “Even if I tell you, you’re going to butch it like the rest of the people who ever heard it...you can call me Duchess, I think it’s much easier for you to remember”

“...Duchess...” he rolls the name with his tongue, tasting the texture. “Why that nickname?”

“...it’s an insider joke...” His amber eyes flicker down on her head, her abrupt tone lets him know the subject is close.

“Well now, Duchess...I think it’s time to collect your payment from my associates,” he drawls. She shakes her head; he could feel her chuckling against him as he lifts himself slightly away from her.

“Okay, pucker up Buttercup...”

“Actually, it’s Mitsuhide to you, Duchess...”

“....jeez...fine, Mitsuhide then...”

……

…

Just as Hideyoshi’s about to throw in the towel and head for the door to collect two wayward persons instead of one, the door swings open, bringing them in.

“About time the both of you came back. Did you know how cold is it outside now? Look at you! Your noses are as red as Rudolph…...” They stood silently and let Hideyoshi hover over them, giving them warm towels, courtesy of the staff, hot drinks and shoos them to the nearest seat, which happens to be a two-seater sofa. The bride, better known as Princess among friends and family, chuckles at her husband’s overprotective antics. The rest of the guys joins her to watch the ‘mother’ of their group fusses over their wayward mischief maker and his companion.

Masamune was the first to notice there is something different with Mitsuhide, “...Is it me or is there something on his lips...”

Everyone’s attention is now focused on the trickster’s lips as he sips the hot beverage laced with alcohol. Then they switched their focus towards her, scrutinising her attire. Slightly mustered hair, flushed cheeks, and the most telling of signs, smeared lips.

“...ooohhhh…...you guys are in trouble…...”

“............Darn you, Masamune! You had to dare her! Now I owe her a favor despite my lack of involvement…...”

“Hey now! I didn’t know who she was until she left the room. You cannot pin the blame on me, Ieyasu. You could have disagree with the arrangement...”

“...Like you could when Nobunaga is the one who upped the stakes…..”

“...I don’t mind doing a favor for her. I believe she’ll be fair in her request, just like Princess here...”

“...just be quiet, Mitsunari...”

As the rest of them argues over the loss of the bet, Nobunaga keep his eyes on them, noticing something else other than the lipstick stain on his closest friend’s lips. His body stance is very much relaxed compared to the beginning of the wedding march. His shoulders stay in contact with the female even though there’s plenty of space for him to shift away if he so inclines. He watches as she turns her attention to Mitsuhide and whispers into his ear, pointing her fingers towards their direction when Hideyoshi turns his back to them and heads back to his bride. He’s the only one who witnesses their gesture as they lift their cups as one and salute a toast to him. Nobunaga roars with laughter and everyone wonders what got him in such a boisterous mood.

#ikesen #ikemen sengoku #modern au #ikesen modern #ikesen mitsuhide #original character #ikesen fanfic #pls gif me snek route soon...

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jonsa-creatives · 7 years

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Drunk, facetious, glory, pony, singing

Hey Anon! I know this is very late but hey better than never I say! And lucky for you, I’m in a prompt filling mood lately!

So, see below for your 5 words prompt!

Summary: Jon is a bartender. Sansa is his regular.The rest… well, is up to them. Modern AU, bonding over drinks.

Rated E (like do y'all not know me)

Mood music: Pony by Ginuwine (some lyrics for context, ahem)

Enjoy!

~ Elle xx

Come Ride (Me)

“You’re not trying to make me drunk now, are you?”

Jon smirks at Sansa as he downs his third glass of whiskey thatevening. The bar was quiet, oddly so for a Thursday night. But for the best,now that she’s here.

“Who, me? No, never. Besides, you look like someone who can holdtheir whiskey quite well. I’d be disappointed if you weren’t, Mr Bartender,”Sansa peers up at him, her dark lashes flutters flirtatiously as the corners ofher mouth upturns into a Cheshire cat grin that only she can pull off.

Jon adjusts himself behind the bar, tugging discreetly at his fly.Only Sansa can make him hard in seconds, with that smile. A smile that hadJon convinced she was one half goddess, the other half a lethal temptress.

My own femme fatale.

“Quiet night tonight,“ she remarks, quickly looking around thebar. There was only an older gentleman smoking a cigar a few seats away fromher, engrossed with texting on his phone and barely paid both Jon and Sansa anyattention.

“Great observation,” came the facetious reply and Sansa turns to seeJon filling her glass with another shot of whiskey.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t mean that-”

“Relax, Red. It’s rare I give you that but it happens. Guess you’restuck with me till closing.”

Sansa chuckles at her new nickname. There was no one else who calledher that. She was always Sans, or Sansy as Rickon calls her ever so often andsometimes “oi!” if Arya was back home - but never Red. A plaincolour, she thinks, nothing to shout about and hated it even because it made herstand out more than she cared for. But coming from him, the way it rolls offhis tongue… made her heart pound and set her loins on fire.

“Thank you. Have a good night,” Jon waves to the man as he stands upto leave. Sansa only hears a slight grunt as the door opened and closed behindhim.

“And then there were two,” Jon turns his attention back to her.Sansa feels her cheeks burning hot, imagines herself turning as red as herhair. She fiddles with the paper coaster before bringing the glass to her lipsonce more, coyly glancing at Jon whose stare only told her one thing. Hunger.

So much for karaoke night. There was nowhere she’d rather be thanhere. Singing can wait. The girls, they’d understand. Especially on a cold rainy night like tonight and theonly warmth she sought came from whiskey bar right across the street. Sheremembers the first time they met.

It was exactly on a night like this.

“What can I get you, Miss?” a gruff voice greeted from behind her.Sansa had in mind some tea but whiskey would do a better job at keeping herinsides warm, now that she was drenched, shivering and tired.

“Oh, hello. Gosh, anything you have that’ll keep me warm! The rain’sjust not letting up is it?“

A young man about her age with jet black curls and dark grey eyesgrinned as he leaned in from behind the bar once Sansa had taken a seat. “I knowexactly what you need, Miss but it would ungentlemanly of me to say.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“No need. Here,” he chuckled and offered her a small glass of amberliquid. A glass of whiskey no less, one that smelled like oak and maple as shebrought it to her lips. It was like autumn in a cup. “It’ll warm you right upand goes down easy. You look like you need it.”

It coated her throat like molten honey as Sansa downed her glass,feeling an almost immediate warmth emanating from her belly that spread quickly throughout herentire being. It was surprisingly pleasant - and effective.

“Thank you, that was quite lovely. I must say, I’ve never hadwhiskey before.”

“That was your first whiskey?” he raised his eyebrows at her. Sansa noddedsheepishly. She was a whiskey virgin no longer now.

“Well, then, Red Lady. That’s on the house. Just for you.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t-”

“No, no, Miss. Glad you liked it. A welcome drink from Castle Bar, if you’d like. Your pleasure is payment enough,”he smirked. It was a bad pick up line, if she ever heard one but Sansa foundherself drawn to the stranger.

“Is that what you say to all the ladies so they’ll come back?”

He paused whatever he was doing and gave a little knowing smirk, hisdark eyes gleaming dangerously. “I don’t know. Is it working?”

Oh, he’s good. Arrogant, handsome bastard.

“It might.” Sansa stifled a giggle.

“So, that means we’ll be seeing you again then? I show you the good stuff thenext time if you do.”

Sansa laughed and gave a nonchalant shrug, grabbing her purse. Herphone had buzzed indicating her cab ride home had arrived. “Well, in that case, howcan a girl say no to that?”

If you’re horny, let’s do it

Ride it, my pony

My saddle’s waiting

Come and jump on it

“Uhhh Jonnn…”

In its own strange way, the universe was giving them a great ‘thumbs-up’sign of encouragement, when Ginuwine’s ‘Pony’ came on, its seductive tonesplaying in the background as Jon sweeps her off her feet – quite literally, andseats her gently on a table. All the while having his mouth on hers, boththeir tongues locked in a heated dance. Sansa loves how he tastes, often of oakand maple – her favourite by far.

Jon’s mouth slowly moves to her neck, nibbling and nipping at herpale skin, now flushed pink. Jon wonders how he had gotten so damn lucky,having gained the attention and affections of such a siren. Never in his lifehad he dreamt of such a woman.

The melody of her soft whimpers and throaty moans, the way shemelts in his arms, writhing and grasping fistfuls of his curls inviting hismouth on her body – the hunger she showed for him, made his heart flip insomersaults. He desired her, he craved her, he thought of her day and night…gods, he may even love her. Jon blushes at the thought and smiles, grazing hersoft belly with butterfly kisses and licking the tantalising crook of her hipbone.

He had only one thing in mind and as his oral ministrationstravelled south, Jon pauses to take a moment as he gazed at the glistening pinkflesh in between her thighs. She was beautiful everywhere and at every inch. Hecan never have enough of Sansa, he thinks. Taking a deep breath, Jon inhales herintoxicating scent and it was music to his ears as Sansa howls his name themoment he clamps his mouth over her mound. In between his tongue darting in andout of her folds and gulping down her juices greedily, Jon was glad he had closedearly that night.

God, the mouth on that man..

“Gods Sansa…. you taste absolutely divine… Cum for me, Red.”

Sansa felt the familiar ache building slowly inside her as she callsout his name.

“But I want you inside me… please, Jon.”

Jon smiles as he slithers up and hovers over her. Hearing Sansa’shusky pleading moans as his thumb presses on her nub and fingers curling insideof her warm wet heat was enough to make him spill. She was a vision indeed, in all her flamehaired glory, with all her curves in all the right places.

“No… Red. I want to watch you.”

It merely took her a second or two to open her eyes and seeing Jon’s grey eyes looking back at hers, that caused her peak to rise rapidly from her core. Jon heldhis gaze; he loved watching Sansa come undone, especially proud in knowing that he was the reason forit.

The gentle tickling had now turned into a full blown ribbing, poking ather loins with such force, following the frantic rhythm set by Jon’s fingers. And thereit was. Sansa screams her heart out as her peak explodes and burns inside of her with such a rush andgush, catapulting her up into the air as if in slow motion, and then, suddenly feeling as light as afeather coming down as she pants for air and composure.

“My, what a vision you are, my sweet,” she hears him whisper in herears. Sansa slowly opens her eyes and sees Jon tugging at her arms as he sitson a chair, fly undone and cock hard as a rock standing at attention. He was avision himself as well, she thinks.

“And as are you.”

Sansa hops off the table and removes her dress. “So now that you’redone watching-“ Jon interrupts and yanks for her to straddle him. Nomore words needed.

“Come here and ride me.”

#jonsa #jon x sansa #anon asks #prompt fills #jonsa fic #modern au #jonsa smut fic #why the hell not

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halloweeniegal · 7 years

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Stranded [M/F/A] - Mark Tuan

I loved this request and had to do it ASAP. Hope you enjoy your moodboard and imagine. (((:

You watched with careful eyes as your friend opened the door, allowing the men she invited to the week vacation you both planned together. You recognized a couple, but there was no time for introductions, given the fact that (F/N) was in a complete rush for a reason unbeknownst to you.

You ambled out the front door, smelling the crisp early morning air as you moved through the damp blades of grass. The morning air was chilly but you didn't seem to mind even if you were wearing a tank top and sweatpants.

You took in your surroundings, becoming confused when you saw your best friends car full of her friends and one guy standing in the cold with you, leaning against your old beaten up looking car. You weren't rich, so you took what you could get.

"Guess I'm riding with you then. Here, you can drive." You tossed him the keys when he finally looked up from the ground, smiling softly before moving to the drivers seat.

"Pop the trunk will ya?" You hollered up at him, your suitcase handle secure in your hand as you watched him hurry to press the button through the back window. You piled your suitcase on top of what you only assumed was his. A sizeable yawn escaped the bonds of your lips as you climbed into the car beside the man you had only met a few minutes ago. You were slightly resentful; upset at your friend for not saving a spot next to her for you. This whole road trip would be undeniably better if that's what she had done, but instead you were stuck with a stranger who seemed to have no interest in speaking to you at all. At least he was attractive.

The resentment quickly subdued when the rain started pouring the instant he pulled out of your driveway and started after (F/N)'s car. It sadly wasn't long until your car started chugging. Both of you merely shrugged it off until it got so bad that you feared it would stop in the middle of the road, so he pulled over. A deep sigh escaped both of you as he took the key out of the ignition.

How could this happen? One second you and this stranger were driving silently down the long winding road, the only noise to be heard was the rain pattering heavily against the glass window. The next you both were pulled to the side of the road listening to the old car take its final breath as the battery died. Never did you even begin to think you would be stuck in a situation like this.

The rain held up, continuing to come into contact with the window pane. You felt your own hand moving up to press your knuckles against the cool glass, a tiny smile stretching your lips despite the situation.

"My name's Mark." His voice was soft, soothing you through the unknown anger that resided deep within you. This trip was supposed to be fun, but now you were stranded in the middle of nowhere. "What's your name?"

"(Y/N). Now please be quiet, I'm not in the mood for small talk." Your words came off a little more venomous than you expected, but you shrugged it off not seeing the noticeable pout adorning his flawless cheeks.

You kept trying to distract yourself with the rain, but it wasn't working. It's been too long since you were able to have fun, but it was ruined. Tears of anger welled in the corners of your eyes. Maybe your hormones were a little off track today; you never cried.

Mark looked over to you at the sound of your sniffle. He saw a stray tear rolling ever so slowly down your face and even though he didn't know you, he felt his heart ache at the sight. His mind was reeling as his arms lifted the middle console and pulled your body into his in fluid movements.

He felt warm against your body, definitely a difference from the nipping cold you felt only moments before. You couldn't help yourself from cuddling into him, enjoying the heavy body heat that was resonating off of him. You both decided to shift so you were laying directly in between his legs. His arms were wrapped around your waist and your head was leaning back on his shoulder.

You pulled out your phone, groaning when you saw there was no service until the phone was snatched right out of your hands. You turned around to look at Mark, curious as to what he was doing but realizing the playful glint in his eyes as he shoved your phone in his front jeans pocket.

You sighed giving him a look that seemed like you were exasperated; you were anything but that, enjoying the attempt to pass time.

"Give me my phone Mark." You held your hand out expectantly, a small smile dancing on your lips.

"If you want it come and get it." Your eyes widened at his words, watching as his facial features seemed to darken a little as he wet his lips. Was he really trying to seduce you? The only thing you knew about him was one, that he was attractive and two, his name was Mark. You began questioning whether you should give in or not. Your heartbeat sped up, heat spreading inside your body as you fell under his gaze. You decided.

You crawled closer to him, a playful deceiving smile stretching your lips. You placed your right hand just above the hem of his jeans, enjoying the feeling of his lungs sharply inflating under your touch. You pushed your hand into his pocket, becoming increasingly excited as you pretended to feel around his pocket in confusion.

His hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling your head closer to whisper in your ear.

"Wrong pocket." You involuntarily shivered at the feeling of his hot breath fanning across your sensitive neck. You resituated yourself, now straddling him as you reached your hand into his other pocket, rubbing against him teasingly as you slowly dragged your phone out of his pocket.

You looked back at him in triumph only to pause when you took in the look on his face. His bottom lip was dragged sexually between his teeth, smirking at you. His skin looked endlessly smooth and you felt the need to touch it. Your hands caressed his cheeks, your fingers dragging to feel along his sharp jawline. He leaned into your unfamiliar touch, enjoying the feeling.

"Can I kiss you?" His voice was smooth and quiet, trying to keep himself calm as his hands reached around your waist. You stared deeply into his chocolate brown eyes, slowly nodding your head.

His lips were soft. They felt like clouds pressing against your own as your mouths moved in sync. You could feel the air around you heat up as the kiss did. It was becoming more passionate by the second, his hands reaching up to tug on your long locks of hair. You moaned into the kiss, your hands moving slowly down his clothed chest.

You couldn't help yourself as you ground your hips down onto his. He pulled back from the kiss, a groan clawing out of his throat as he stared at you. You felt the pads of his fingers ghost down your back, continuing until they rested on your ass cheeks. He squeezed tightly, loving the look on your face as it contorted in pleasure.

He took control, pressing your hips into his as he became increasingly hard underneath you. Your lips moved to suck on his neck, fingers fumbling with the hem of his shirt. You lifted his shirt up, your hands dragging against his toned form before you finally lifted it completely over his head. He repeated your actions before moving to drag your sweatpants slowly down your legs as much as he could.

"Lift your hips." His voice was underlined with a controlling tone as his nails dug slightly into the tops of your thighs. You did as requested, looking into his eyes as he tugged your sweatpants all the way off. He wet his lips again, staring at your nearly naked body. His fingers reached out to drag slowly along your inner thighs, leaving burning trails behind.

You gasped in surprise as he started rubbing at your clit through your panties. A breathy moan vibrated through your throat as he moved his thumb in tiny slow circles.

"You're so fucking wet for me." He groaned, practically ripping your panties in excitement. He continued toying with you, dipping his middle finger in your glistening hole as his thumb moved against your nub. Your hand reached above him to grip on the door as he entered another finger and began pumping his fingers into you.

He found it unbelievably sexy seeing you, a complete stranger, writhing and moaning above him. He could feel his dick leaking precum as he worked his fingers inside you, rubbing deliciously against your slick walls. You bit your lip, trying to contain your moans as his fingers pounded into you.

"Let me hear those pretty moans," he demanded, smirking up at you as you finally looked down at him. Sweat was glistening along both of your chests as you groaned. A knot formed in the pit in your stomach signalling your approaching orgasm as he curled his fingers within you.

"Fuck Mark. I'm so close." The second those words left your mouth his fingers followed suit, pulling out of you covered in your slick juices. You moaned at the sight of him sucking sensually on his fingers, tasting you as he looked darkly at you.

"I want you to cum around my cock." He stated matter-of-factly. Your core shook with his sexy words. You grinded down against him again, his eyes clenching shut at the very short release. You reached down unbuttoning and unzipping them quickly, tugging his pants and briefs quickly down his legs, exposing his erection.

He hissed as the cold air rushed against him but sighed in pleasure as you covered him with your warmth. You rubbed against him a couple times, covering his dick in your sweet juices before reaching below you to grab him, aligning him with your entrance. He bit his lip in anticipation and everything seemed to slow down as you sunk down onto him. He filled you completely, stretching your walls in all the right ways.

You sat on his dick for a second before slowly gyrating your hips, breathing deeply in through your nose as you heard his needy moan. You lifted yourself up before slamming back down on him, your mouth opening in a silent moan as you set a quick pace.

He groaned beneath you, becoming increasingly needier as he thrusted up to meet yours. Breaths were labored as he reached behind you to unclasp your bra, letting it fall to the ground as he watched your perfect breasts bouncing with every thrust on top of him.

Your nails dug in his chest, causing him to feel a mix between pain and pleasure; he loved it. The familiar knot was back again but you were caught by surprise when he suddenly pushed you down onto the other side of the seat.

He lifted your legs by your thighs, pressing them tightly against your body as he started pounding into you at a fast rate. Your breasts jiggled, your face contorting in extreme pleasure as his hand reached around one of your thighs to rub small circles against your throbbing clit. Your walls tightened around him, a pornographic moan crawling out of your throat. You released your juices around his cock as he continued to pound into you mercilessly. Your legs ached from their bent position as you convulsed around his girthy member. He grunted deeply into your ear, his dick twitching wildly inside you.

"Fuck (Y/N), you're so tight.” His voice was raspy in your ear as he released hot white spurts of his seed deep inside you. It was warm and sticky as he collapsed onto you, finally releasing your legs.

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artificialqueens · 7 years

Text

Church of the Poison Mind (Trixya) - Dahlia

This is going to be multiple chapters of just me crying, being emo, and typing entirely in italics. Thank you so much from the bottom of my smol bean cinnamon roll heart to all of the ANGELS who inspired me and kept me going, it literally would not have been possible without Lale, Matilda, and BromeoandJooliet!!! Feel free to drop by my side-blog DahliasForKatya and say hello! Thank you!!! More parts coming soon

Our eyes meet across the room. One glance is all it takes for her to ignite a fire in me. Before I know it, her hips are behind mine, and we’re moving to the music across time. My mystery girl beckons me across the floor. I’m hungry, and I’m desperate for a bite. I can’t remember what happens next, but suddenly we’re stumbling through my apartment. She knocks over a side table, her fingers through my hair. She’s kissing me, hard and deep. I haven’t gotten her number but her body is calling me. We crash into my room, onto my bed, and she’s pulling off my dress. She’s a crimson sultress, dripping like hot candle wax between my fingers. I can’t think, can’t speak, I’m trembling beneath her touch, her hot breath in my ear. Her eyes are as beautiful as they are violent, and they squeeze shut when my hands snag in her hair. I feel her all around me and she feels like the sun on my skin. Every inch of me is alight, she’s everywhere, coursing through my veins; this isn’t me, this isn’t me, but I can’t stop her hands as they explore the goosebumps rising on my neck. Without words, she is singing to my knees, they bend like book pages, saving her place. Her scarlet lips are all over me, trailing bruises down my chest, bright red and purple galaxies, reminders for the morning. It’s dark, but I swear a halo illuminates around her; she takes me to a holy place. Moonlight streaks in through my blinds and I can see veins beneath the surface of her arms, twisted and violet, they mimic the lines of aspen trees. If I could, I would go like a bird there, and perch myself in her wonder. She teases me now, her tongue everywhere but nowhere, all at once; I’m shaking as her branches throw me to the ground. Her fingers push inside of me, and I’m writhing against her. She’s rough with me, but holy fuck I deserve it. She smiles something devilish and sweet, and her mouth comes crashing down on mine, our lips are braiding unspoken poems as our tongues entwine. I’m seeing stars. I’m on top of her now, and her nails sink in, kindling a fire down my back. Scorching bits of impassioned heaven are swirling around us while I worship her body; I’m in awe of this perfect stranger, this godly woman. Omnipotent. Everything is rough and quick while the flames are roaring around us, everything spinning, faster and faster. I’m almost at my breaking point, and so is she. She sinks her teeth into my shoulder, moans escape into the expanse, fourth of July fireworks frenzy behind my eyelids. Our bodies go slack, her fingers, once mapping routes across my thighs, fall against the bed. Bliss. She soothes the stinging on my back, trailing soft kisses over swelling peaks, her panting wet and hot. We fall asleep a tangled mess of sweaty elation, and her perfume fills my dreams.

The sun wakes me in the morning, it seems as though I’ve forgotten my alarm. I feel a chill run through me. My fingers search the sheets for her fire, but she’s gone. Nothing but smoking embers lie in her place. The sun in rising, but I feel in the dark.

—

Trixie’s mother used to make blueberry pancakes every sunday morning, but always mixed way too many blueberries into the batter. They stuck to the roof of Trixie’s mouth with a pungent punch of unripe sour, their gooey insides sickly and hot. Trixie, now long out of her mother’s house, could taste them, acrid and tart, stuck between sparse bits of undercooked pancake and sticky maple syrup. Her mother was good at many things–Trixie could hear her now, the way she’d sing to her as a child, the both of them perched behind the hum of a sewing machine; Trixie’s chest swelled with the sweet memory of her mother’s voice, like a beacon echoing through the length of her arms, throbbing in her fingertips. She could feel the buzzing prick of the needle, hear the gentle daze of Dolly Parton or Suzy Q–but she was a god awful cook. Trixie, timid as she was, is, didn’t have the heart to tell her. Every Sunday morning it was blueberry pancakes, strawberry when the warm summer months permit it. Despite how awful they’d been, Trixie’s heart now ached at the smell of blueberries; and a certain, painful nostalgia sometimes struck her in the produce section of the grocery store. A bit older now and a bit more weathered, she’d do anything for one more taste. On those ceaseless nights, staring up at unfamiliar ceilings, she’d long for the soft lull of her mother’s lullabies; love is like a butterfly, a rare and gentle thing…

—

The scent carried her down the stairs as the imagined sound of her mother’s laughter rang in her ears. She felt sick. Shaking the memories, Trixie braced around the corner of the cupboard, clumsily nicking the side of her stomach on its pointed edge. The jolt sent a few pots and pans somersaulting across the tiled floor, and Trixie clamored forward, crashing into the kitchen. A stifled hiss caught on her lips while she brought herself back to her feet, desperately, she let a few cool fingers calm the buzzing at her side. And although she’d hoped no one would be around to bare witness, sizzling sounds of breakfast rose from the kitchen, and a familiar scent troubled her nose.

Trixie looked up nervously from under long lashes, locks of messy blonde hair falling down her back as she lifted her head. Her blue eyes quickly locked on the gaze of her roommate’s, and a gentle, goofy smile tugged at the corners of the other girl’s lips. Trixie was mortified. Pearl, ready to laugh it off, instead retreated. Pearl thought then of Trixie’s fears, all of her bottled up anxieties; Pearl knew that sometimes life for Trixie was like a balancing act without a safety net, and even the tiniest feather could send her hurdling to the ground. Pearl took this into consideration and softened her face, she decided not to comment. Neither on Trixie’s fall, nor the half naked girl she’d seen stumbling down the stairs moments ago.

“I’m making pancakes!” she chimed instead, returning to her pans. A sudden aroma smacked Trixie right in the face, blueberries. Trixie shook the pain from her browline, and perched herself atop one of the barstools behind the center island; she thought maybe she’d heard the faint padding of Violet slinking down the stairs, but it was still a bit too early for that.

It wasn’t a very big kitchen, not quite large enough for a breakfast nook or otherwise small table, so they’d settled for a few recycled stools around the center countertop. The stove sit adjacent a few smaller countertops, their surfaces now cluttered with mixing bowls and empty containers. The fridge rose only a few feet from the ground, but somehow proved large enough to sustain the three of them as it sat tucked in a corner on the far side of the room. Pearl was the only real foodie of the group, so the kitchen never really received much attention anyway; save for Violet’s late morning coffee and cigarettes, and those sparse moments Kim would swing by and poke around in the fridge.

Trixie felt on the fidgety side this morning, and pressed a shaky index finger into the ashtray on the counter. She watched as the ash danced into the air, a staleness wafting from its plight. Beams of refracted sunlight shone in through the sheer curtains, and dust glittered in the paths of bright morning against the lavender walls. Trixie hummed while she toyed. Pearl looked up from her work and shot her a glare, to which Trixie promptly removed her fingers from the ashtray.

Trixie sometimes couldn’t control her hands, she often found herself idly touching things she shouldn’t. The other girls frequently chided her, quite like a parent may an insolent child, but she couldn’t help herself. It wasn’t quite curiosity, and most of the time she didn’t pay it much mind, but those who knew her chalked it up to nervous hands. She was still thinking about crashing into the kitchen when Pearl spoke again, “you’re up early!”

Trixie whipped her head around at the sound of the bathroom door opening, and winced as Violet came sauntering out, a blanket still cocooning her thin shoulders. Shit, that must’ve been her on the stairs before, Trixie thought. She hoped desperately no one had heard her last night, washing vanishing symphonies over her mystery girl.

“I might still be sleeping if some people,” she glared at Trixie, “weren’t so damn loud, I could swear someone was throwing bowling balls down the stairs.” Violet closed her eyes and slumped down in the stool next to Trixie, coming to rest her upper body on the island.

Violet wasn’t quite as sensitive as the other girls, well, she was, just in a different way. Sensitive to her own needs, rather than the needs of others. She wasn’t selfish, in fact, one of the most selfless people Trixie had ever known; just not as cautious, a bit more abrasive. Trixie’s spine tensed at the thought of waking Violet, and she sighed, attempting an apology. The words threaded out of her shakily, like something caught in the embark of a geyser’s spout.

“Sorry…I–”

Pearl interjected, “Trixie, don’t apologize to little miss fla-zay-da over here, maybe if she hadn’t gotten home so late last night, she’d be alive like the rest of us ” She sent a soft glance to Trixie, and gave a comforting smile as if to say, don’t worry, she doesn’t mean anything by it, it’s just Violet.

Violet snatched a pack of cigarettes from the counter and rifled through the small box, finding one and putting it to her lips to light. The spark wheel of Violet’s lighter snagged, and Trixie watched as Violet knocked it against the counter.

“I’m not the only one who had a little too much fun last night…” Violet added, sinister. Her eyes met Trixie’s, and she smirked into her words, “I’m so glad I dragged you to that bar and you finally got laid, it sounded like you two-”

“Violet, enough! Leave her alone.”

Violet softened her face in apology. “You okay, Trix?” she mumbled, the cigarette bouncing between her lips, “you look like you saw a ghost or something.” Finally, a spark, and two billowing puffs of tobacco crept from Violet’s nostrils.

Trixie’s cheeks lit up bright red, and a tiny nausea tugged in her abdomen. Feigning indifference so the other girls couldn’t sense her unease, she fiddled listlessly with the cuff of her sleeve.

Trixie, though fragile in nature, could be stronger than she appeared. When she needed to, she could be cutting, and bold, acrimony could careen from her tongue in the heat of the moment. If necessary, words could leave her like battery acid, seeping their poison into sentences better left unsaid. Trixie lived like that for a long time, building walls brick by brick, until she was cornered; and even the gentlest of dogs could bite when backed into a corner. If she’d learned anything from home, it was that barking got you nowhere. She wasn’t that girl anymore, she couldn’t be. Instead of toughening her up, those long gone days had left her frail, and defenseless. She needed to please, needed to fade into the background; even the faint scratch of discontent, disapproval, disappointment, could send her into a panic. Those long gone days haunted her still, plucking a scorching reverie on her fried nerves. And sometimes she could still feel the fevered claw of acid dragging up her throat.

On any given day, she may have laughed and calmly braced the embarrassment, but she was already nervous, already reeling. First day of classes, rent due tomorrow, and 13 missed calls on her phone. That beautiful girl was gone, only bruises marked her place, she’d probably never see her again. She shuddered and pushed away the thoughts; those sleepless nights were catching up with her.

“What? Oh I��m fine,” she lied, biting the inside of her cheek, “just nervous for today. First day jitters, I guess.” Pearl caught the falter in Trixie’s voice, but felt it better left unpressed.

“You’ll do great,” a familiar voice said from behind them. Kim entered the sunny kitchen, pulling the screen door closed behind her. She looked Trixie up and down and grimaced at the sight of her pink nightgown, “Except for the fact that we have to leave in like five minutes and you’re not even dressed!” Kim smiled passed Pearl and Violet, and shooed Trixie up the stairs.

—

Trixie had always imagined the inside of her body like a network of strings, pulled taut in all directions across her ribcage. They pulled ceaselessly at the fragile perch of her veins; and though they tugged which each rise and fall of her chest, they were the staples and glue that held her together. Lacing their knotted poise in intricate webs, they kept her grounded, tied to Earth’s gravity like a ribbon holds a balloon. And as they approached the university, she could feel them pulling tighter and tighter, threatening her lungs. She felt as though at any moment, all of the strings inside of her could break, and then what would she be left with? The skin of her hands felt raw as she peered down at them. What if she wasn’t cut out for this? What if the other girls were too far ahead of her already? What if she couldn’t keep up? Her phone buzzed in her pocket for the fourteenth time this morning. Not today, you can have anyday you want, just not today. She wished she had started school earlier, last fall with Kim and Bendela; Trixie couldn’t shake the feeling that she was too far out of the loop to keep up. Maybe all of the things her mother said about her were true.

A sudden chill streamed in through the car window, and she buried both hands into the fabric of her babydoll dress for warmth, sorry she didn’t wear that cardigan Kim had suggested. In the driver’s seat, Kim pulled aimfully into student parking, and quieted the roar of the engine. She turned to face Trixie, her eye catching the fall of bright orange leaves cascading down the window behind her. Trixie groaned, her head in her hands, “Do I have to go?”

Kim pursed her lips, taking Trixie’s hands in her own and giving them a quick shake, “You’ve wanted this a long time, you worked hard for it, you got in. Now go in.” She smiled. “Listen, about today…” Kim added, a slight lisp on her tongue, “I know I said I’d be able to show you around, but I just… I really have to finish these projects before my 11:00 o’clock…” Trixie froze, nervous but understanding. Kim continued, “before you say anything! I know you don’t know her that well but Jinkx said she can totally show you around and she is in your first class, she’s really awesome just give her a ch–”

“I’ll be fine!” Trixie breathed, weary, “Really! It’s fine, do what you have to do, I totally get it.” Trixie smiled reassuringly, unlocked her door, and began climbing out of the Jeep. She scanned the campus, her eyes coming to rest on Jinkx’s red hair, pulled up into a messy knot on the top of her head. Jinkx smiled as she approached the car, and Trixie was relieved she’d have at least someone to show her around.Trixie hadn’t known Jinkx particularly long, but she was sure they’d met at least twice, though she couldn’t recall where. She seemed nice enough, and if she was a friend of Kim’s, she couldn’t be that bad.

“So,” Jinkx beamed, a crooked smile creeping across her lips, “I hear I’m running this dog and pony show today! Don’t worry,” She paused to chuckle, “You’re in good hands.” She spoke with a gentle affectation, and although her words landed with an old timey curve, she was void completely of any pretension. She had a certain air of old hollywood about her, and held herself in a quirky gait, teeming with outward confidence. Speaking to her felt like coming home, like all those Shirley Temple movies Trixie had watched as a child; Trixie took comfort in this. Jinkx clasped her hands together, and her gold nail polish glinted in the sun.

A slight breeze blew past them, settling into Trixie’s skin; quietly, as though a secret, goosebumps rose on the surface of her arms, and she smiled with all of the spirit she could muster. Kim gave Trixie’s forearm a reassuring squeeze, hugged them both goodbye, and started for the art studio.

Gravel crunched beneath their boots as they began down the walkway, freshly fallen leaves sticking to the soles of their shoes. The air was a bit brisk, but the sun shone bright in the sky, and Trixie shaded her eyes to get a better view of the first building.

Red brick and cement rose grandly from the soft green grass and towered over them, the building a bit intimidating in its climb. The campus was covered in a menagerie of flowery bushes, mostly hydrangea and rhododendron, their branches undulating in the breeze, mimicking the balding trees above them. Early Autumn had already begun its decline on the foliage, and the grounds wept with the forgotten fall of browning petals and vibrant red leaves. As they entered an unfinished area of ground, Trixie was mindful of the swollen tree roots snaking through the grass, careful not to trip and repeat the morning’s events.

“How long have you and Kim known each other?” she inquired meekly, shaking debris from her shoes before beginning up the marble stairs. Trixie saddled her messenger bag over an opposite shoulder, and sped up slightly to catch the door before it swung shut behind someone else. She braced it’s weight, heavier than she expected, and held the door for Jinkx.

“A couple of years now I’d say, it’s no big thing, really. Kim’s delightful isn’t she?” Trixie kept in time with Jinkx as they rounded an enormous hall; grand wooden doors against ivory walls revolved as students brushed in and out. “Great thing about this school is it’s extracurriculars, you were at last year’s student fashion show right? I think I remember seeing you there. Kim and I met through one of those, before we were even students here.”

Trixie hadn’t realized Jinkx and Kim had gone so far back, and she tried desperately to hide a hot wave of jealousy as Jinkx continued.

“Could I take a tiny peak at your schedule? Perhaps I can shed some light on some of your professors, I’ll warn you, there are quite a few characters!” Trixie, already clutching the paper in her left fist, handed it to Jinkx, and the two of them scanned the page.

“Your classes look pretty light for today, which is good… Okay let’s see… Ooh! Acting and Stage Presence, we have that together! Be a bit careful around this one dear, she’s got a heart of gold, but definitely not the kind of person you’d want to rub the wrong way!” Jinkx chuckled fondly, as if recalling a distant memory.

Trixie swallowed a lump in her throat as she watched Jinkx’s finger cross the page, “Same with this class, I had it first year, too. The professor’s a real tough broad but her class can be a hoot if you play your cards right! Just keep your head down and sti-” Jinkx halted mid sentence, her eyes darting across the paper.

“Oh my…”

“What, what is it?” Trixie tensed, following Jinkx’s eyes to class three.

2:30 p.m. Class 3

Chemistry I

Building A Room 204

“Oh darling,” Jinkx exhaled, an unanticipated mischief rising in her brows, “They really set you up for a whirlwind this year, didn’t they…” Jinkx trailed off, trying not to laugh.

“What do you mean?” A stifling anxiety bubbled up in Trixie’s chest, the strings pulled and tugged, tighter, tighter. Trixie masked her alarm, inhaled, and took the paper from Jinkx’s hands, returning a nervous smile of meager rations.

“Well, don’t look so frightened!” Jinkx backpedaled, “I never meant to scare you, really. It’s just funny, I didn’t think she’d be back so soon is all. Hell, I didn’t think she’d be back at all!”

Trixie was more scared now if anything; back from where?

“Don’t worry! Really, I mean listen… that class is crazy, absolutely bonkers but it’s arguably one of the best at this school! Quite brilliant, actually!” Trixie’s eyes widened as Jinkx continued on with hushed excitement, “Well, it’s a tiny thing, really, rumor has it, the professor was having an affair with a female student…” Jinkx looked over both shoulders cautiously, “I won’t say who that student is but gosh, it was all anyone could talk about! Anyway, after she had to leave, none of us thought she’d be back… but I guess, the show isn’t over until the fat lady sings!”

Trixie wanted to go home. She needed a hot shower.

Jinkx peered down at her wristwatch, and her thin brows raised in exasperation, “Well crap, would you look at the time, we can’t have you late on your first day! Look at me, the town gossip! That’s New York for ya honey, eat your heart out.”

#trixya #college au #lesbian au #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #jinkx monsoon #mild mention of abuse #violet chachki #kim chi #pearl liaison #rpdr fanfiction #submission #dahlia #church of the poison mind

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