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jjunberry · 3 months

Text

wrong address

pairing! park sunghoon x reader

genre! angst with a happy ending

synopsis! part two to return to sender. just as y/n seems to move on sunghoon manages to steal her heart…again.

wc! 2.8k

the last few months of school were painfully embarrassing for you. not that anyone brought up the letters but you did share classes with a few of the boys who got one. jake, taehyun.. you never really got to properly talk about the letters with them but they understood. it was just a silly crush, nothing serious. you never met for those letters to see the light of day. the one person who’s letter actually did mean something wanted nothing to do with you. sunghoon, he ignored you at all costs even moved his seat. he truly met what he said to you.

when school finally let out for summer, you couldn’t wait to get away. away from the letters, away from sunghoon. or so you thought. that was until you got a summer job at the local ice cream shop. your first day on the job he walked in. park sunghoon walked in. his eyes landed on yours. before he could say anything to you the owner came from the back smiling widely. “oh sunghoon my dear i’m so happy to see you again.” your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

‘’oh y/nie this is my nephew sunghoon he’s spent the last three summers here, he’ll be the one to train you!” you swear your heart dropped to your feet. he faked a smile for his aunt and as soon as she left the smile was replaced with a scowl. he quietly placed his apron on and started preparing cones. “look sunghoon i know i’m the last person you want to be working with, but i’d appreciate it if you’d try to work with me.” he let out a long sigh. his back muscles clenched. you could practically feel the tension in his shoulders.

“y/n you’re the last person i wanted to see here.” he spit. your heart ached just like the day he rejected you. “well i’m sorry to intrude on your summer job, but i need to save money for college so i’m not going anywhere.” he rolled his eyes. the two of you worked in awkward silence. this was how you spent most of your days.working together in silence.

after a few weeks you swear you felt him warming up to you. even after his rejection you still yearned to just be his friend. the shop was busy today. sunghoon and yourself was busy giving out cones and sundaes. You wasn’t aware of the ice cream on the floor until you slipped on it. a strong pair of arms grabbed your waist. your eyes met sunghoon’s and you swear your heart was beating out of your chest. you couldn’t tell if it was from his closeness or the fear of almost falling.

‘’you need to be more careful.” he said before returning to his task. you swore your heart beat never slowed down. when closing time finally rolled around you were more than ready to leave. you were putting away the washed ice cream scoopers when you felt him behind you. “here you forgot these.” he handed you two more scoopers. “oh thanks.” you mumbled. he nodded and put away the rest of the dishes.

the both of you hung up your aprons before leaving. he locked the door. “it’s late, do you need a ride home?” he asked, turning to you.smiling you nodded. “yeah that would be nice.” he nodded and you followed him to his car. you would have given him your address but he seemed to have known already. then it hit you, he remembered because of your letter. he pulled up to your house in silence and watched as you got out. “thank you.” you said.

“no problem i’ll see you tomorrow.” he said. you watched him pull away and you turned to your house. you grabbed the forgotten mail and shifted through it. bills, spam mail, but one envelope stood out to you. it was addressed to you. from your old middle school crush, jay park. he was your last crush before sunghoon. you traced the handwriting on the front. kicking off your shoes you took off to your room.

you used a paper cutter to open the letter. inside it was written on some plain notebook paper. the handwriting was sort of messy but eligible.

dearest, y/n

i have to say i was surprised to get your letter. i wanted to say of course i remember the time at the park whenever you fell off the swing and i patched up your scraped knees. you were crying and i gave you a band-aid. your smile that day was one i couldn’t forget. i remember thinking how i only ever wanted to see you smile. of course that was then. i’m glad you sent this letter out. i’m not too sure i was supposed to ever read the words you wrote, but i’m thankful.

i hope this letter finds you well. i hope that someday soon our paths will cross again, and if needed i’ll always have a band-aid in my pocket.

yours, jay

holding the letter to your chest you fell backwards onto your bed. your eyes closed the memories of that day in the park flooded your head. then your eyes snapped open. you have to write him back. but what would you say? a million different things to say raced through your mind all at once.

when your alarm for work went off you were already up piles of crumpled paper next to you. letting out a sigh you got dressed and did a light make up. when she arrived sunghoon was already inside setting up for the day. “hey y/n.” he greeted with a smile. it made your heart flutter. “hi.” you grabbed your apron and joined him behind the counter.

“so i was wondering something.” he said. his voice was distant because he was in the back room. “yeah?” you asked. he came from the back holding pints of ice cream. you grabbed one placing it on the counter. “there’s this small bonfire tonight, i was wondering if you’d want to come?” he asked. you smiled. “i’d love too!” he nodded. “yeah uh cool, i’ll pick you up later.”

the shop was having a slow day so you worked the register and sunghoon handled the ice cream. you were writing a reply to jay on a napkin from the store.

dear jay,

i was so delighted to receive your letter. i was surprised you wrote back but i’m glad you reached out. it was nice to hear from you after all this time. i also wish that our paths cross again as it would be nice to see you. i have to say i miss seeing you everyday at school but i hope life is treating you well. until i see you again.

yours, y/n

sunghoon stood behind you glaring at your words on the napkin. his chest felt tight. some other guy had the courage to say what he couldn’t and you were replying. he clenched his fist and slammed down an ice cream container, causing you to jump and turn to him. you could practically feel his anger radiating off of him. you didn’t understand because he was just fine moments ago.

“sunghoon are you okay?” you asked. his jaw was clenched. “i’m fine.” came his short reply. you didn’t push the subject but the rest of the day was full of short replies and the cold shoulder. you hoped that whatever was bothering him stopped before later or it would be one awkward night. when you got home you showered and dressed casually. you didn’t want to over dress but you also wanted to put in some effort, since he’d be there. you really felt that his feelings toward you were improving, and well you still had a small crush on the boy.

once you were dressed and ready you waited, and waited and waited. after an hour it became clear that he wasn’t coming. you sat on your porch stairs trying to keep in tears. you should have known, but with how nice he’s been you were hoping he would show up anyway. with a heavy heart you went inside and locked the door. you cried yourself to sleep that night.

the next day you made it to work before sunghoon which was rare. he must of been out late. you sighed and began the prep to open the store. sunghoon came in about twenty minutes later. he looked tired and he didn’t say anything at first.”how was the bonfire?” you asked. he was quiet. “i wouldn’t know, i didn’t go.” he said. you faced him. “you could have said something.” he rolled his eyes. “it doesn’t matter y/n. let’s just get to work.”

during your break you sealed your reply to jay and addressed the envelope. you planned to mail it after work. you left the letter in your locker and returned to your spot behind the counter, relieving sunghoon for his break. sunghoon opened your locker by mistake and noticed the envelope. a frown took over his face and he grabbed the letter. he couldn’t help himself.

he changed the address so the letter would never reach the boy. sunghoon couldn’t stand the idea of you with someone that wasn’t him. if tampering your letter meant getting another chance with you then that’s what he’d do, and he did. sunghoon placed the letter back in your locker before joining you behind the counter.

after work you dropped the letter off at the post office before heading home. you were excited for jay to receive the letter. it was nice to talk to him again.

it had been a week since you mailed the letter, you had gotten nothing back from jay. at first you were a little upset but soon you forgot about even mailing it in the first place. it was a busy day at the shop but you and sunghoon had gotten used to it. you were cleaning up the counter when the bell above the door rang. you looked up and your jaw dropped. there he stood, jay park. your old middle school crush. his eyes scanned the room before they landed on you. he smiled and made his way over to you. “y/n.” he said. you stared at him. “jay, hi.” the name caught sunghoon’s attention. he stood back watching you.

“what, what are you doing here?” you asked. he smiled. “well when you never replied to my letter i decided to come see you, i went to your house and your mom said you’d be here.” you stared at him. never replied? impossible you spent so long thinking of what to say. “i did send you a letter back.” he shrugged. “must of been the wrong address, that’s okay i’m here now.” he smiled. you smiled back.

sunghoon cleared his throat effectively catching your attention. he had an unreadable look on his face. it was a cross between anger and some other emotion you couldn’t put your finger on. “uh jay this is sunghoon, sunghoon this is jay.” you said. “Hey.” jay said. all sunghoon did was nod his head. the bell rang with more customers. “look man we are busy if you could order something that would be nice if not then leave.” sunghoon said with venom in his tone.

jay stared back before putting his hands up. “i’m good man, just wanted to see an old friend.” he backed away. “well you’ve seen them now you can leave.” you’re eyes went wide. who did he think he was? “right, anyway see you y/n.” jay waved before leaving. sunghoon ignored your stare as he tended to the customers that walked in. he proceeded to act like nothing happened for the rest of the day.

when it was finally time to close, you decided it was time to confront him. “sunghoon what the hell was that earlier?” you asked. “he was holding up the line.” he replied. you let out a bitter laugh. “no that's not what i mean and you know it.” he sighed. “he was trying to get you back, i had to do something.” he said his eyes glued to his feet. “sunghoon what the hell are you talking about, i haven’t seen him since middle school.” he scoffed. “save it i seen the letter, i mean seriously?” he was pacing now.

“so what if i was sending letters to jay, you have no right to be angry right now.” you were getting angry now. how dare he after all he’s said. “i am angry, i’m jealous.” you furrowed your eyebrows. “jealous?” you asked. he tugged at his hair. “yes! i’m jealous because he had the courage to do what i couldn’t.” he snapped. you felt the tears well in your eyes. “and what was that?” you asked with a shaky voice. “to tell you how i feel about you. god y/n i like you so much.” you swear your heart was going to beat out of your chest.

“well you sure have a funny way of showing it.” you spat. “remember you said you don’t want to date me, you never will.” you threw his words back at him. the ones that played in the back of your mind each time you looked at him and felt your heart flutter. it was a painful reminder of that day he threw your letter and heart on the ground and crushed it. “y/n.” he started but you put your hand up.

“don’t sunghoon.” you couldn’t hear anything else. you gathered your bag and walked towards the door. his hand wrapped around your wrist. “y/n please let me explain.” his voice is now shaky. you stared at where he held you. “i was scared when i read your letter, no one has ever felt that way about me before, and my friend were laughing at me. i didn’t mean to hurt you but so many emotions were happening it once, so i took the cheap way out.”

you scoffed and shook off his hold. “now that’s pathetic.” you spit his words back at him once again before leaving. sunghoon tugged at his hair. he hated watching you walk away from him again crying. he hated hurting you, but that’s all he ever seemed to do. there was only one thing he could do. he grabbed a pen and paper.

my dearest, y/n

i’ve never really done this before. i didn’t really know how else to say this. everytime i open my mouth i always seem to hurt you. so i figured i’d give this a try. y/n i like you. i like whenever our fingers brushed against each other in class passing papers. i like when you always greet me with a smile even though i’ve been shitty to you. i like that you make me smile with your cute laugh. i like the way you dress, the way you are always you.

i hate what i said to you that day. truthfully your words scared me because no one has ever cared for me that way before. i hope that i didn’t ruin everything between us, and that it’s not to late, because if you’d let me i’d really like to take you on a date, and make you mine.

always yours, sunghoon

your tears fell onto the paper, your neighbor had dropped it off after it ended up in her mail. the mailman had the wrong address.it had been a few days since you been to the ice cream shop. you slipped on your shoes and ran there. the letter still in your grasp. sunghoon was locking the door when you ran up. he turned to see you out of breath with teary eyes. his eyes drifted to the letter in your hand. he was starting to think you got it but threw it out.

“y/n..” he began but you cut him off by placing your lips on his. sunghoon’s eyes were wide before they closed and he kissed you back. his arms gripped your hips and your arms wrapped around his neck. when you pulled away he chased your lips causing you to giggle and placed your forehead against his.

“does this mean i get to take you on that date?” he whispered. you smiled and nodded. “i’d like that more than anything.” he smiled and pulled you closer by your waist. he titled your chin up and placed his lips on yours. “p.s i still like you.” he smiled. “good, it would be one awkward date if you didn’t.” you laughed and followed him to his car. you weren’t expecting your summer to go this way but one thing was for sure, you were glad to get that letter, it gave you sunghoon.

author’s note! the long awaited second part. i hope you all enjoyed it :)

tag list! @jjunieworld @304files

#park sunghoon #park sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon imagines #park sunghoon angst #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #jjunberry

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georgie-weasley · 1 year

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Spontaneous pt. 2 G.W. x reader

Warnings: One swear word, talk of self loathing, Fred and Lee Jordan shenanigans

Word Count: 2.8k

Pairing: George Weasley x fem!reader

Summary: George finally pulled it together and asked you on a date but it had some bumps along the way.

Masterlist Part 1

The week passed by painfully slowly. On Sunday, the day after George plucked up the courage to ask you out, he woke up thinking it was Saturday. He was very disappointed to learn he was wrong. Monday was slow but they usually are. Tuesday felt like Monday. Wednesday was only good because George spent his free period pranking Filch which happened to be one of his favorite ways to pass the time. He thought Thursday was Friday and he spent the whole day pouting every time he was reminded it wasn’t Friday. When it finally was Friday, George couldn’t sit still. He was sweaty and jumpy and got on every one of Fred’s nerves.

Now that it was Saturday, George paced around the courtyard, checking his watch just about every minute. 7:58. Everyone would be leaving in just two minutes and he couldn’t see you anywhere. You couldn’t have gotten lost. He knew for a fact your parents made sure you were always on time so you couldn’t have been late. You were standing him up. His heart dropped and tears pricked in the corner of his eyes. You said you wanted to come with him, in fact you said that you would love to join him but maybe it was all an act. You couldn’t tell him no to his face so you let him believe he had a shot with you only to leave him alone and embarrassed. With his head down, George started walking back to the castle when someone rammed into him.

George and the human bludger toppled to the ground, George landing harshly on his rear end. The attacker fell onto him, breaking their fall. Lucky them. With a glare and a flurry of curses ready to spring out, George looked up at the person who sent him crashing to the ground only for his anger to die immediately as he saw you. “George, I’m so sorry. I was so worried you’d leave without me or think I had forgotten you that I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

George blushed and snorted. “Why would you think that?” He smiled and once you got to your feet, he stood up as well. He offered his arm out to you and as you linked arms, he led you to join the crowd of students who had just begun their walk to Hogsmeade. “Why were you running late?” He was curious and maybe you would have brought it up on your own later but he had to know.

“I was reading a letter from my parents. I just received their response about me becoming a healer.” Your face fell for a split second before your smile came back. Part of you hoped George wouldn’t notice but another part of you wanted him to see. As fate would have it, George is very aware of anything concerning you. He saw your brief frown and when you smiled to cover it up, he didn’t see the spark in your eyes. They were not happy.

“They didn’t like it, did they?” He whispered, watching his feet as you walked.

“No, they didn’t. I was going to tell you later so I didn’t bring the mood down.” You pulled your arm away from his; after that rather disappointing topic, linking arms felt too intimate.

George felt the warmth leave his arm and he almost grabbed you, tempted to put it back. “I’m sorry. Let’s go to Honeydukes and get your mind off of it.” While he wanted you to focus on something else for a while, George was going to need the distraction as well. It was very possible your relationship with your parents could have been ruined all because of him. If that was true, he would never forgive himself.

The walk to Honeydukes was far too quiet. You didn’t say much and George wasn’t sure what to say. He already messed up when he asked you about the letter from your parents and he feared anything else would ruin the date completely. The store itself was the exact opposite of your walk with George. It was full of bright and colorful candies and people all talking excitedly about the unlimited sweets they planned to buy. Two men walked in not long after the two of you did and one of them looked shockingly similar to George. He was about the same height and covered in freckles. George would have bet money that he also had brown eyes but they were covered by sunglasses. He was a ginger as well but he had a mustache that looked like it was falling off. His friend also had sunglasses and a mustache but George could have sworn it was upside down. He looked a lot like Lee Jordan. He turned away from them and smiled a little at you. The environment seemed to neutralize the awkwardness between you and George, thankfully.

As you both wandered the aisles, George pointed out some of the candies that he preferred over the others. Of course he would eat just about anything there. “Can I buy you something?” He asked as he stood next to you. You had been looking at your favorite candy when he came up to you. If he was being honest, he shouldn’t buy you candy. Him and Fred were trying to save as much money as they could to try and save up for their products and eventually a store. It also was common knowledge that the Weasley family did not have much spending money so really, George should not have offered. That didn’t stop him though. He wanted to be the perfect date and that meant getting you some candy.

“That’s alright. You don’t have to.” You shook your head, trying to convince him not to buy you anything. It wasn’t like your parents didn’t have money. They were important people in the ministry and you never struggled for money. You could get your own candy and really, you could get George some as well.

“I insist.” Without waiting for you, George gathered a handful of packages and moved on to a different part of the store. After more time, George had his arms full of candy and his heart full of fear that he wouldn’t be able to pay for it all. As you both approached the counter, George set down the snacks and rummaged through his pockets. He counted up the coins and his heart dropped when he saw he was a Sickle short. His face burned bright red as he tried to do some quick mental math to get the total down when you slipped the silver coin into his hand. He only turned a darker shade of red at that. He didn’t want to use your money but he didn’t want to fight with you while the bored man behind the counter stared at him.

With the candy paid for, George gathered it back into his arms and just about sprinted out of the store. He kept walking, leaving you to run after him. He felt like the biggest idiot on the planet. He should have counted his money before they came into the store so he knew just how much he could buy you. He should have only got some for you and none for him. His eyes widened as a thought seemed to smack him right in the face. He wanted to take you for a butterbeer at The Three Broomsticks before the day was over but now he would have no money to do so.

“George!” You yelled, grabbing his arm. Lost in thought and self hate, George had begun walking toward the Shrieking Shack and almost moved past the fence blocking it from the public. He skidded to a stop. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for at least five minutes. What’s wrong?”

Did you really not know? How could you not have figured this out on your own? He didn’t answer and instead he turned back to look at the haunted building. What was he supposed to say? I’m mad because I spent all of my money getting you some sweets and now I can’t afford to get you anything else because my family is broke. Not to even mention you had to give me some of your money you no doubt got from your super rich parents.

“I didn’t mean to George. You insisted on buying me the candy.” He said all that out loud didn’t he?

He slowly turned back to you with a sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you, it's just embarrassing to have to use your money.”

You moved to stand next to him, leaning against the fence. “I don’t think you should be embarrassed. Your father gets to spend his days doing what he loves. It’s not great that it doesn’t make him much money but he’s happy. Happiness is what matters most right?”

“Yeah but being happy versus being able to afford books and clothes for your kids is very different.” George loved his parents and he knew they spent a lot of money taking care of them but that didn’t make it hurt any less when he saw Ron wearing ratty old uniforms or Ginny using books that had been used so many times they were hardly holding together. It never got easier to see his friends have everything he wanted. It would never get easier.

You carefully took the candy out of his arms and shoved it into your bag before taking his hand in yours. “I’m sorry your family struggles and I’m sorry it affects you like this but please know, I am more than happy to spend my money on you. You’re right when you said my parents are ‘super rich’. They make more than enough money at the ministry which is why I don’t mind spending some of it, or a lot of it, on you.”

He opened his mouth to argue but the words died in his throat when he saw the pleading look on your face. It was your money and you would spend it how you wanted and he would just have to live with the fact that you want to spend it on him.

“Now, how about you let me spend some of this money on you and treat you to that butterbeer you planned on getting me?”

George laughed and nodded. “Only if you let me get you one next time.”

“Deal.”

---

The two of you laughed loudly at George’s story while you were tucked away into a corner booth. Something about promising that you like to spend money on him made George relax and you were finding out he’s even more fun when relaxed, if that was possible. You crammed yourself into the spot next to him and he had his arm thrown around your shoulders. He was perfect in every way.

“So you guys turned Ron’s teddy bear into a spider and that’s why he’s so scared of them? That’s horrible.” You laughed.

“Only a little. It was our job as older brothers to mess with him, we just didn’t know it would scar him for life. Oh well, it builds character.”

You only rolled your eyes and laid your head on his shoulder, pretending to ignore the way his body stiffened and his breathing stopped as you did. Despite the rocky start to the date, it easily became the best date of your life. George was funny and cute and probably the sweetest guy you ever spent time with. He was the kind of guy that would break his back if it would make you smile. You never wanted the day to end. Of course, it had to and with the warm glow coming in from the windows, it was time to head back to the castle. That didn’t make you move however. You were planning on staying here until the absolute last second.

“George,” you whispered, “thank you for asking me out. I’ve had a really great time.”

“Me too. I should have asked you out years ago.” His heart pounded in his chest as you moved to look at him, your face inching closer to his. He glanced down at your lips hoping he would get to learn if they really were as soft as he imagined. When you were just a centimeter away, a loud crash caused you both to spring apart. Across the way, the two men from before sat; the ginger was clutching onto his mug that had toppled over and now laid on its side, liquid steadily spilling out. Both of them quickly looked away from the two of you.

Moment officially ruined, you separated yourself from him and sighed. “We should probably get back to the castle.”

---

The walk back to the castle couldn’t have been more different than the walk to Hogsmeade. You two were laughing and holding hands and George seemed to have a permanent blush on his face. It was wonderful but the letter from your parents was in the back of your mind. He needed to know what it said but you were so worried it would ruin everything. In the courtyard, you stopped George even though all you wanted was to ignore the letter. “George, there’s something I should tell you.”

He stood in front of you and clung to your hand. You looked so serious and afraid of whatever it was you needed to talk to him about. He was getting scared now. George nodded, not trusting his voice.

“When I told my parents about what you said, that I should chase my happiness and all of that, they were not happy at all. They were disappointed and told me I was throwing away everything we had been working towards since I was born.” You took a deep breath and looked at your feet. “They said you were a bad influence and that I need to stay away from you. You were brainwashing me into thinking I wanted something that I didn’t want.”

Well shit. George told himself that he would never forgive himself if you ruined your relationship with your parents because of him. Let eternal self hatred begin. “I never meant to make them disappointed in you or mess this up for you.” He swallowed thickly as his heart broke. He was sure this was you telling him that whatever you had together needed to end. It would only make sense that it needed to. They were your parents, the people that brought you into the world and raised you and loved you. George was just… George. He was no one to throw away a good relationship with your parents for. There would be other guys that made you happy that your parents would approve of. Someone better and more deserving of you than George. He pulled his hand away from you but he didn’t get far.

Your grip on his hand only tightened as he tried to take it away. “I know you didn’t mean to. I don’t blame you, at all.” You stepped closer to him and put your other hand on his cheek. “You aren’t brainwashing me, you just helped me see that I would never be happy doing what they want me to do. So maybe they’re right and you are a bad influence but I happen to enjoy it.”

George’s eyes widened at your words, his heart mending itself. “I enjoy being your bad influence.”

“Good because I’m not letting you get away from me that fast.” You grabbed his face in your hands and surged forward, planting your lips on his. George didn’t move and for a moment you feared he had a heart attack or stopped breathing but he quickly recovered and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him. Your lips melded together perfectly and you were certain he was the one you were destined to be with.

“Hell yeah Georgie!” A shout from across the courtyard forced George to pull away from you. Standing not far from you two stood the two men he had seen everywhere all day. The redheaded was jumping and cheering while his friend did the worst dance George had ever seen. As the one jumped, his mustache and sunglasses fell to the floor. Fred.

For a short moment, everyone stood frozen before George spoke. “Five…”

“What are you doing?” You questioned.

“Giving them a head start. Four…”

Fred and Lee took off running, glasses and mustaches left behind. George smiled and turned back to you, planting a quick and soft kiss on your lips. “I have to go beat up my brother and best friend but I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow and the rest of your life George. You’re stuck with me.”

“Oh my, whatever shall I do.”

Tags: @elijahslover

#hp fanfic #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley x y/n #george weasley imagine #george weasley x reader #george weasley #george weasley fluff #hp fanfcition

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feralbutfluffy · 7 months

Text

56: Crowley

Chapter 56 of Too Wise to Woo Peaceably

*******

Crowley had opened his mouth and then found himself completely incapable of closing it again.

Spurred by the stifling silence, he’d unwittingly opened an artery and watched helplessly as every last wounded, heartsore, mortifying thought came pouring out of him. He had committed the sort of emotional seppuku he had been carefully avoiding for literally thousands of years, and he felt like he might be bleeding out right there on the sofa.

He had spent much of the previous five minutes wishing desperately that Muriel might conveniently appear at the door with an obscene amount of wine, or at the very least a couple of bottles of Talisker.

However, just as he’d been wondering if it was possible to discorporate from abject discomfort, Aziraphale had finally said something, and even though he’d had to go and be infuriatingly circumspect about it... Crowley was pretty sure the words he had strung together had meant I love you too.

Which seemed impossible, but he supposed he would just add it to the increasingly lengthy list of impossible things that had happened lately.

Aziraphale was turned towards him. A tear dropped from his jawline as he gave Crowley a wobbly smile that did things to his insides. He suddenly became aware of the fact that he was crushing Aziraphale’s little finger and, with considerable effort, forced himself to relax his hand.

Crowley wanted to look away, because this - whatever this was - was painfully intimate. It was galling, really. Barely touching and he felt as if the angel had zipped him open at the throat, exposing every part of him.

Except, well, he’d been the one to do that to himself, hadn’t he?

Here, he might as well have said. Ruin me.

He watched Aziraphale warily, and in response the angel shuffled closer, banging their knees together clumsily.

Crowley didn’t so much as blink.

He’d said everything he had wanted to say. He had also said everything he hadn’t wanted to say. He was cracked wide open, head swimming, waiting. Waiting to know what happened next, waiting for Aziraphale to say more, and he was good at waiting, he’d waited for so long, a few more minutes shouldn’t feel so excruciating.

But they did.

Aziraphale looked away and the fingers of his free hand fluttered nervously against the suede of the sofa.

“I have some things to say too, I suppose,” he started, and his voice sounded higher than usual, tight with strain. He coughed lightly, managing to get it back down to its usual register. “I think I’ve rather been getting in my own way when it comes to…” he tilted his head towards Crowley, still avoiding his gaze. “... us .”

Crowley took a deep breath and held it, feeling a bit like he was preparing to be held underwater.

“I think- Well all of those things you said, they're as true for you as they are for me, but I- I think- Ah, I suspect maybe I chose not to think on it, because I wasn’t quite brave enough to face the truth of the matter. Which is…” he trailed off. “Well, you know.”

Crowley’s eyes narrowed. If he thought he was going to get away with-

“That I’m hopelessly in love. With you.” The words sounded torn from his chest, “...Too.”

Crowley bit down on his tongue; the urge to yell ‘No takebacks!’ was almost overwhelming.

“I thought if I could just get you to dance with me-”

Crowley’s eyebrows slammed together. “What?”

“I thought we might do some formal dancing, and then we would realize that we were actually in love...” Aziraphale looked guilty. "... Like in Jane Austen's novels."

Crowley narrowed his eyes.

“I know I’ve said this before, but you read” - grumbled Crowley in an exasperated tone - “entirely too many books. How was I meant to pick up on that? Why couldn’t we have managed it without the formal dancing?”

Aziraphale shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know! But we didn’t, did we? Manage it, I mean.”

“Didn’t even manage it with the formal dancing,” Crowley pointed out, and Aziraphale’s face crumpled a bit. He nudged the angel’s knee with his own and leaned in. “You never know, might have worked without the demons trying to storm the shop.”

Crowley seriously doubted it, but Aziraphale brightened at the thought so he let it go.

“You know,” said Aziraphale, and he lowered his gaze, “I did try to show you.”

“Show me what?”

The angel was tracing a line along the suede, watching the velvety nap alternate between dark and light as he rubbed it one way and then the other.

“That I felt for you. That you were important to me. That I loved you, before I consciously knew that I loved you.”

The way he said it, the way he let it roll almost casually out into the air between them, made Crowley’s ribcage feel like a vice, his heart and lungs squeezed in a punishing grip.

“Ngk?” he said.

It was an embarrassingly inelegant sound.

“With the tartan,” Aziraphale said, as if it were perfectly obvious.

Crowley blinked and then pointed, bewildered, at the folded blanket on the armrest.

“The blanket?”

“No, the tartan .” Aziraphale was frowning, as if Crowley was being intentionally dense.

“I don’t follow. You’ve lost me. Are you speaking in code? Are you saying ‘tartan’ and actually meaning something else entirely?”

“No,” said Aziraphale, looking flustered, “I’m saying ‘tartan,’ and meaning ‘tartan’.”

The -you idiot was silent, but Crowley heard it all the same.

“Don’t you know anything about tartan?”

Crowley stared at him for the longest moment. “No,” he said slowly, “No, I do not. Why would I? In over six thousand years, when have you ever known me to willingly wear tartan? And don’t even think of mentioning the tartan collar, that does not count thankyouverymuch, that was you. As me. But still you.”

Aziraphale huffed and sat back a bit, clearly put out. “Never mind then.”

“No, no. No. You’ve somehow - against stacked odds, let me tell you - managed to make tartan sound intriguing,” Crowley said. “So you may as well tell me. Consider me interested. What should I know about tartan other than the fact that you have a disproportionate fondness for it?”

A pink flush was spreading up Aziraphale’s neck.

It was delightful.

It made Crowley want to kiss it.

“Forget I mentioned it,” the angel muttered, turning more pink by the second.

Crowley grinned. “Oh, I think the chances of my forgetting any part of this enchanting conversation are abysmally low. Go on, torture me with tartan facts.”

Aziraphale blanched at the word ‘torture’ and Crowley grimaced apologetically. “Too soon. Right.”

He eyed the angel’s bow tie with an entirely new and unfeigned interest.

“So. Tartan…?” he prompted.

Aziraphale straightened the bow tie unnecessarily, as if his hands needed something to do.

“This is, ah- That is to say, I had this dress tartan made for me sometime around the mid-1800s. It’s mine. It’s unique.”

“Right.”

The pink hue was back in Aziraphale’s cheeks.

“Different families - different clans - they each have their own unique tartan.”

“Different people, different tartan. Got it.” Crowley gave him a nod.

“Yes. Well, different clans or families, different tartan, but yes, basically. I couldn’t, for example, wear another clan’s tartan without their express permission, because wearing it is something of a claim; using their tartan would then, er, mark me as belonging to their clan, you see.”

Aziraphale gazed meaningfully at Crowley and waited.

Right. Clearly he was meant to have gleaned something important from that bit of information.

His eyes moved from Aziraphale’s face to his bow tie, and from his bow tie to the blanket.

He thought about the tartan collar Aziraphale had added to his jacket when they had swapped forms. He thought of the tartan thermos full of Holy water. He thought of the absolute eyesore of a tyre cover the angel had miracled onto the car after they’d been hit by that woman in Tadfield.

“Your tartan,” Crowley said carefully. “... You let me use it.”

Aziraphale said nothing, but the pink in his cheeks had spread to the tips of his ears.

“You were marking me as belonging to your… clan?” Crowley could feel his cheeks warming.

A matching flush. How perfectly wretched.

Aziraphale gave him a lopsided smile. “Something like that, I suppose. Our… team. Our group of the two of us.”

“Ah, so you were listening,” Crowley said uncomfortably.

Aziraphale blushed pink all the way up to his hairline.

With considerable effort, Crowley sat up properly. He shifted over, twisting his torso so that their bodies were in alignment, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh.

“Well.”

“Well,” repeated Aziraphale weakly.

“Well I’m sorry to have missed your demonstrations of affection delivered through the medium of tartan,” said Crowley with a wry grin.

The angel looked at him, embarrassed. “Yes, yes. Very funny.”

Crowley bumped him with his shoulder. “Maybe try something a bit more straightforward next time. Or at least work with something I actually understand."

There was a brief pause and then Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, his lips curling up at the corners. "Oh?"

"What, 'oh'? What does that mean?"

"I think I know what you understand," said Aziraphale, and the embarrassment was gone from his face. Crowley pulled back slightly, watching the angel carefully.

"What?"

His heart stuttered and took up an absolutely frenzied pace as Aziraphale leaned forward to take his face in his hands.

He eyed him suspiciously. "Are you about to kiss me?"

Aziraphale laughed and his eyes dropped to Crowley's lips, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Not just yet."

Crowley couldn't take his eyes off him. He felt like his heart might burst. Aziraphale was stroking his thumb softly against his skin.

"Anthony Just-a-J-Really Crowley, I'm in love with you," he said, and kissed his temple so gently Crowley had to swallow down a cry.

"I've loved you for a very long time," Aziraphale whispered against his ear. He kissed his forehead, and turned his thoughts into incoherent nonsense.

"A very, very long time," Aziraphale murmured against his other ear and nipped his earlobe, sending a jolt of undiluted desire straight up his spine.

"I'm sorry it took me such a long time to be honest with myself," he said, kissing the serpent by the hinge of his jaw. Crowley shuddered. He let out a harsh exhale as his eyes closed of their own volition.

"... And I'm sorry it took me such a long time to be honest with you," he said, kissing the corner of Crowley's mouth. He groaned and turned to kiss the angel, but Aziraphale pulled out of reach.

Crowley opened his eyes, dazed, to find Aziraphale looking at him with adoring eyes, a coy half-smile on his lips. He struggled to swallow, his throat tight with longing.

"I know you said I go too fast for you, angel," he rasped, "but this is painfully slow. Are you trying to discorporate me?"

Aziraphale frowned slightly, but he was still smiling. "I'm almost certain that's not possible."

"Let's not find out."

Aziraphale's laugh was muffled by Crowley's lips against his.

80 notes · View notes

binxyu · 1 year

Text

Part 2: The memories you two had burnt into ash as you threw away the remains of the relationship you had with Jungkook. Jungkook seemed to hate Jimin but everything else about him remained painfully similar. You, on the other hand, grew a mask that dug into your skin so horrendously that no one could recognize you. Neither one of you remembered the other and yet fate seemed to have other plans.

>>Pairing: Jeon Jungkook (dom) x fem!reader (sub) | fuckboy!jk x witch!reader

>>Word Count: 7.7k

>>Genre: Mini Series / Smut & Angst

>>Warnings/Kinks: Arguments, breast play, creampie, fingering, oral (receiving), praise, unprotected sex, witchcraft

>>Author’s Note: Hi guys! It’s been a pretty rough year for me so far and i’m so sorry i’ve been inactive for so long. Life really got in the way but i’m hoping to get back into it slowly. I’ll be working on requests soon and thank you for supporting me! I hope you enjoy this long overdue second part to slow burn and if you enjoy my writing i would really appreciate a tip. Woman in STEM struggling here fr :( Love you guys!

Memories of you swarmed his mind and Jungkook desperately tried to hold onto you as your body turned into ash, flying away from his grasp. Every kiss, every night together, and every study session gone like the wax of the candle you had burnt. He could remember the event but never who it was with.

It was similar for you, like someone had reached their hand inside your skull to rip out every precious memory you had of him. The pain still somehow lingered even after you had no idea who you were mourning over and witchcraft became a cause of pain to you. Your entire personality had changed overnight. Even Taehyung could only see glimpses of your past self.

Everyone around you remembered what you and Jungkook shared but they just assumed you two broke it off and moved on. Taehyung remained friends with Jungkook but you two never seemed to cross paths.

“Tae, do you know where my lab report papers went?”, you yelled from your bedroom, shoving papers all over the floor as you searched for the damn thing you had been working on for days. The dark circles underneath your eyes were evident from that work. Typically, you’d just pull up the papers on your laptop and print them out again but the papers you were looking for had the peer edits on them you needed to edit it.

“No clue. Maybe ask Namjoon if he has them. You’ve been pretty forgetful lately so maybe you left them the last time you two studied together”, Tae suggested, leaning against the frame of your bedroom door as he watched you. He was eating one of the cookies you had bought the other day when you were stocking up on comfort foods. Midterms were kicking your ass, especially after switching your major to biology.

Taehyung tried to convince you that you never liked those terribly hard advanced math and science classes but you insisted it was a much more practical major in comparison to your theology one. Besides, you couldn’t even stomach the idea of continuing learning religion after your own had hurt you so much.

“Can you take a second to breathe? Damn woman”, Tae huffed, shoving the last bit of cookie into his mouth and swallowing it in what looks to be a single chew before he’s walking over to you. There’s sweat dripping down your forehead and your hands are shaking in sheer panic. He’s never seen you so miserable before.

“Tae, I need to get this done. If I don’t find those damn papers I’m done for”, even you were aware you sounded more than a little dramatic but it did feel like the end of the world. Tae just nodded and rubbed your shoulders, trying to get even a smidge of the worked up tension out of you.

“Okay okay. I’ll call Namjoon and if he doesn’t know where it is then I’ll help you look for it”, you finally nodded and sat down on your bed, waiting for Tae to call your friend. His phone barely rang once before Namjoon picked up, his voice on speaker so that you could listen to it.

“Hey Nam, do you happen to have Bae’s lab report? She’s freaking out and needs it tonight”, you had no idea where Tae got the idea of Bae for your nickname as it was a recent development. He said you were the “Bae to his Tae” which you said was stupid but he just waved you off and it stuck.

“Oh, let me look. Maybe I accidentally grabbed it”, you could hear Namjoon shuffling through his backpack. Your hands were clasped so tightly together that your fingers were turning red.

“Here it is! I’ll bring it right over. Sorry about that”, you let out the loudest sigh of relief you’ve ever had. Tae laughed and thanked Namjoon before hanging up. He looked at you and then around your room, still disappointed at how barren it looked without all your candles, crystals, and collectibles. They were pretty and brightened the room up.

Now it was just a dull white room with a dull black bed and desk. No color.

“See? You need to stop freaking out. It’s bad for you”, Tae ruffled your hair and his boxy grin filled up your view. You despised that grin. Not because it wasn’t cute because it was. It’s because that grin held so much mischief and trouble behind it.

“Stop that”, you pushed him away with your hand on his forehead and he stumbled backwards.

“What? I didn’t do anything”, he huffed, crossing his arms like a toddler having a temper tantrum.

“Kim Taehyung. I’m your best friend and I know that grin well”, you glared at him, crossing your arms back as if you were scolding him.

“I was just thinking that after you were done with your report thingy we could go clubbing”, he suggested, puppy dog eyes already at the ready. You quickly averted your gaze.

“Tae, I can’t. I have so many things to do. Midterm week, remember?”, Tae put both of his hands on each of your cheeks and squished them together, making you look at him.

“Sureee but it’s one night. Come on”, Tae nudges you with his shoulder, wiggling his eyebrows playfully to attempt to loosen you up. You finally sighed and nodded your head.

“Help me edit this paper and I’ll go with you”, he nods enthusiastically and grabs the papers out of your hands, running to your desk to begin helping you edit. You couldn’t help but laugh and soon enough the night came.

Jungkook showed up to the club with yet another bruise purpling his cheek, replacing the one that had just freshly healed. Yet another fight to add to the list Jimin had made up in his mind. The lit cigarette in Jungkook’s hand was something he never imagined to see considering how important his ex-friend had considered his health before.

Jimin watched as Jungkook settled into one of the seats, elbows on his knees as he took a puff from the cigarette. He took a deep inhale of it, let it settle into his chest, and then blew it out. He had new tats all up his right arm, an eyebrow piercing, and a lip piercing. If Jimin was still his friend then he’d tell him how proud he was.

Jimin finally looked away when Jungkook finished smoking, throwing the cigarette to the ground and stepping on it with his black boots. The fire went out and he picked it up to put in the trash next to the seat he was in. He looked completely different and acted so differently.

A woman seemed to notice those differences too as she approached Jungkook in a red dress that was skin tight, showing off every curve. She quite literally fell into his lap, arms wrapping around his neck as if they had known each other for years. Like this was instinct.

Soon enough, they were making out on the couch. Jungkook’s big tattooed hands holding her face as she started to grind against his thigh. It was so inappropriate that you had to avert your eyes as soon as you saw it.

“Ew, Tae I already want to leave”, you were going to cut off your best friend’s circulation if you kept up the tight grip you had on his arm. It was like you thought he was going to disappear any moment.

“Bae, you can let go of my arm now. No one is going to eat you alive”, Tae laughed and you finally loosened your grip when you noticed his skin was turning red. Taehyung didn’t even question the fact that you didn’t bring up Jungkook. He just assumed seeing him makeout with someone else was too much to talk about.

“Whatever. Can we dance now?”, you weren’t a total debbie downer and Tae knew that as he guided you to the dance floor, immediately starting to dance along with you. The rose quartz necklace you always wore bounced against your chest as you swayed and jumped along with the music. It was the first time in ages that Taehyung could say you looked happy.

He wasn’t the only one to notice.

From his spot on the couch, Jungkook couldn’t keep his eyes off that very same necklace. His hands were on the woman on his lap but his eyes were on you. Something seemed to keep his gaze trapped as he watched the sweat go down your face as your eyes closed. You were stunning and felt so familiar but he couldn’t place why his body called for you.

There was a woman just as beautiful on his lap currently, ready to abide by his every wish and command and, yet, he wanted you. His head tilted as he tried to find a reason for it until finally the woman kissing his neck realized his hands had stopped moving along her thighs.

“Hey, what are you looking at?”, she asked, getting off of him to stand in front of him, hands placed firmly on her hips.

“Sorry sweetheart, I think I’ve changed my mind”, he gave a half-hearted smile and she scoffed before walking away, looking for another man to seduce for the night. He couldn’t blame her. Sex was fun.

“Tae, don’t you dare leave me”, by the time you had opened your eyes to reality, you noticed that your best friend was dancing with another girl. He gave an innocent boxy grin to you and you knew you were doomed for a lonely night on the dance floor. You shook your head but waved him along and he went to dance with her, hands placed on her hips.

You knew it was bound to happen considering this is what always happens when Tae takes you clubbing.

You were about to walk away to the bar when you felt someone close to your back, stopping you in your tracks before the person tapped your shoulder. You turned around to see the guy from the couch towering over you. Now that you were closer to him, you could see the tattoos crawling up his arm. From the brief look you had, you could make out an eye, some words, and multiple shapes on his hands.

“Can I help you?”, you raised an eyebrow, immediately crossing your arms to look more guarded. You had to stop the little habit you had developed where you death gripped the necklace around your neck when you were anxious. The gaze of the man in front of you had made you feel small and it was unwelcomed.

“I was wondering if you were free tonight, princess”, something crawled up your spine when he said princess.

“Sorry, I don’t do that”, you shook your head, knowing he just wanted to have sex with you. You had to admit that he was attractive but you knew your worth despite how desperate you were for some affection. Being a woman in STEM was rough for sure.

“Aw, what a pity. That’s okay. I just want you to know you’re gorgeous”, he smiled and your heart skipped a beat, your arms involuntarily falling to your side. He had two bandages on his forehead, covering what looked to be a massive scar. The bruise on his cheek didn’t help hide his devilish demeanor either but yet his eyes screamed playful and innocent like an angel. He’s definitely dangerous and you shouldn’t be near him.

He was about to turn around and your brain screamed at you not to but your hand seemed to grab his arm before you could convince yourself otherwise. It felt like hands were gripping your body, holding you in place as he spun back around to look at you again. It was such a foreign feeling to not have control over yourself and you almost thought of a supernatural reason before you shut that down.

“What’s your name?”, you looked up at him, still holding onto his arm. He smirked and leaned down so you could hear him better over the blasting music, coming face to face with you.

“Jungkook”, he gently removed your hand from his arm and kissed it, raising an eyebrow as you repeated the name in what looked like a trance.

“Jungkook. Okay”, you nodded and he chuckled, looking down at your lips and he bit his own. Jungkook looked like it was ripping him apart not to touch you.

“Oh, hey Jungkook”, you felt the arm of your best friend land on your shoulders before you heard him. No girl in sight with him and you would have to remember to ask him what happened with her.

“Hey Taehyung, what brings you here?”, Jungkook looks irritated that he was interrupted but smiles at your friend nonetheless. You were beyond confused on how the two knew each other.

“___ needed a night out, so I brought her here”, Taehyung gestured with his head down to you and Jungkook looked down at you again.

“Yeah, and we were just leaving”, you smiled at Jungkook and grabbed Tae’s hands to drag him out of the club. If you stayed under that man’s hungry gaze any longer then you might’ve ripped his clothes off instead.

“You literally introduced us to each other, Bae”, Taehyung rubbed his eyes, obviously too sleepy to deal with your shit. It was the morning after you two had gone clubbing and your best friend was half asleep at your kitchen table. He was waiting for breakfast, eyes half closed as he leaned his chin against his hand.

“But I’m telling you I don’t know him”, of course you had to ask about Jungkook considering he was the most handsome man you had ever seen. Bruises and all.

“Well, I’m telling you you do. You two were disgustingly in love at one point”, Taehyung fake vomited and got up to take the spatula from you. Obviously he was just joking with you cause you had no recollection of the tattooed stranger. But, as you watched Tae sleepily flip the pancakes, you wondered why you did find him so familiar.

“Whatever you say. I have to go to the chem lab now”, you laughed and slung your backpack over your back. Taehyung turned to look at you and sighed before flicking the rose quartz around your neck, causing it to sway.

“Where do you think the necklace came from? It certainly didn’t just randomly manifest on your doorstep”, he turned back to the stove and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You didn’t have time to process what he said before you were out the door heading to your lab. You couldn’t afford to be late over a man you barely know.

Lab seemed the same as usual. You grabbed the safety goggles you had to wear every time before you walked over to your table, setting up your laptop, a calculator, and some paper in case you had to show work. Time passed by as you waited for the class to start and your lab partner never showed up.

Your TA came over and raised an eyebrow to which you responded with a simple shrug. You really didn’t want to have to do this lab alone.

“Jungkook, since your partner also isn’t here then you can partner with ___ today”, your TA called out to a man on the other side of the room. Your jaw almost dropped when it was the same Jungkook from the club that stepped out from behind another table and walked over. He somehow even pulled off the goofy looking safety goggles.

“Long time no see ___”, Jungkook chuckled, getting some gloves out of the box set up at your table. He rolled up the sleeves of his sweater, revealing the ink that you had briefly scanned over the night prior. Talk about mouthwatering.

“Yeah, guess fate really does exist”, you pull the gloves onto your hands before you start looking over the instructions for the lab. You were trying so hard to ignore the stare that was obviously coming from your lab partner.

“Are you going to start the experiment or just stare at me the whole time?”, one thing you were not going to play with is your grade.

“Not sure. Are you going to give me your number?”, he raised an eyebrow at you, obviously not kidding. How annoying.

“Seriously? Just do the damn work”, you huffed in annoyance. You already had a massive headache and this playboy was not making it any better.

“Taehyung said you needed to destress. I can help with that”, he suggested and you couldn’t help but scoff as you poured the solution into the well.

“Really? Cause, at the moment, you’re just causing more of it”, you shook your head and shoved the instructions in his direction, “turn on the computer”. He did as you asked as slow as possible just to irritate you.

“That could change if you give me your number”, you could tell he would’ve backed down if you told him to but you didn’t know if you wanted him to.

“Fine”, you sighed and held your hand out. Jungkook grinned and placed his phone into your hand, watching as you reluctantly put your number in there.

“Sweet, now watch me finish this in thirty minutes tops, sourpuss”, he confidently said once he had his phone back and you shook your head as another chill went up your spine. It was like a ghost’s finger was tracing it.

“Bet”, you stated before you solely focused on the experiment.

Jungkook was like an irritating candle that wouldn’t go out. You kept trying to extinguish that flame he seemed to have for you with no luck. The wick kept relighting itself and it seemed he wouldn’t give up on you. You couldn’t tell if you were just his next sex target or if he genuinely wanted to know you. Probably the former.

It finally got to the point that you resorted back to your tarot cards, something that you swore you’d never use again. You’d only do it once for some clarity and you’d throw the damn things away.

As you shuffled the deck, you felt some of your stress naturally melt away. You pictured Jungkook in your head as you shuffled them, waiting for some cards to fly out. You expected it to naturally take a while since you haven’t used the cards but three cards immediately fell out of the stack.

You laid them out and put the other cards to the side. What stared back at you was the lovers reversed, the high priestess reversed, and the wheel of fortune. You scratched your head as you looked at them, wondering why those were the ones to fall out. It’s like your brain was clouded as you tried to place them together.

The lovers reversed was for the loss of a lover that you can’t seem to remember and the high priestess reversed is the loss of an inner voice which is likely your connection to your religion. At least one makes sense. But, as you stare at the wheel of fortune, you’re baffled even more. Fate.

It couldn’t be a coincidence, right? You and Jungkook had just talked about fate in your lab the other day.

“Oh, fuck you. Just confusing me more. What do the lovers reversed have to do with him?”, you rested your forehead against the table as another throbbing headache started to form. You couldn’t tell if it was from the Jungkook situation, the lack of sleep, water, and food, or stress.

You have an inkling that you gave up witchcraft for a reason tied to that lovers card but you didn’t want to cause the headache to worsen by thinking about it.

“Any leads there detective?”, you stood straight up just to see Namjoon standing in your doorway. His eyes scanned the cards spread out on your desk and he almost smiled before you quickly started putting them away.

“Not really. I got the lovers reversed and I have no idea why”, Namjoon didn’t really know the meaning of the card but if he did then he would definitely have the answer to why you got it.

“You’ll figure it out. I’m sure”, he smiled half-heartedly as he leaned against the door frame. He and Taehyung were about to work together on Namjoon’s latest newspaper article.

“Thanks, Nam”, you smiled at him before you grabbed your bag and stood up from your desk chair.

“Where are you heading?”, Namjoon tilted his head, moving out of your way as you left your bedroom.

“To the library. I’m going to do some investigating”, you smiled at him before leaving the apartment, closing the door behind you. You could only hope that he and Tae wouldn’t destroy the place while you were gone.

The walk to the library always felt weird to you, your feet dragging behind you as if the world didn’t want you to go. You couldn’t really listen to that instinct though considering you couldn’t really focus in your room on schoolwork. Plus, the library has always been a safe place for you.

The door creaked as you pushed it open, revealing the familiar layout of books in front of you stacked neatly on each shelf. You really didn’t want to go to the section you needed to go to for answers but you allowed your feet to naturally lead you there.

The words “THEOLOGY” stared back at you as if to taunt you. You let out a huff and suddenly a splitting headache erupted, causing you to grip your head as the horrendous pain engulfed it. Rumbling began to fill your ears and you looked up to see the bookshelves under the sign shaking horribly, books falling onto the ground. You blinked and they stopped moving, as if it had never happened to begin with.

The headache went away just the same but one of the books that had fallen caught your eye at the bottom of the bookshelf. It was simply titled “love magick” in bright pink, standing out against its solid black cover. It looked old, dust layering it and, as you picked it up to inspect it, most of the dust flew up into the air.

“Sourpuss? What are you doing here?”, fate really did like to fuck you over, didn’t it?

“Oh, nothing”, you quickly hid the book into your arm, hiding the cover as unsuspiciously as you could, “just doing some research for a paper”.

“Well, that’s boring. Want to know what is not boring though?”, Jungkook raised an eyebrow as he stepped closer to you, causing you to subconsciously step back until your back was against the bookcase behind you. The scene felt oddly familiar. Something was holding you in place as Jungkook finally stopped in front of you, chest pressed against your own.

“Do I even want to know?”, you tried to sound confident but your voice came out shaky.

“You”, your face twisted into confusion as a Jungkook that looked much younger than the one in front of you flashed inside your head saying the very same thing. Jungkook couldn’t understand why you suddenly dropped your book and shook your head, trying to think of a reason. You didn’t even know Jungkook back then, so how did you know what he looked like?

“What’s wrong?”, he looked down to see the book you had dropped, about to crouch down to get it but he read the title before he did.

“Why are you reading about love magick?”, Jungkook tilted his head and finally crouched down to pick up the book, turning it around in his hands to figure out why you would want such a thing. “That’s an odd research topic for a STEM major”.

“I have a humanities class, idiot”, you scoffed, quickly trying to come with an excuse. You reached out to grab the book back but Jungkook held it high enough out of your reach.

“Really? Cause it would make a lot of sense why I feel this pull to you if you’ve been doing some kind of love spell on me”, you felt almost offended that he could think such a thing and your patience hit an all time low.

“That is not what’s happening, Jungkook! I don’t understand the pull either. Yes, I practiced witchcraft before but I gave it up. I just wanted to find answers”, you sighed, trying to take deep breaths between words. Jungkook looked confused, slowly lowering the book back down and you grabbed it from his grasps to hold it close to your chest.

“Why’d you give it up?”, he was talking to you but you noticed his eyes were set on the crystal around your neck, the bright pink reflecting in his brown eyes. You tried to find an answer to his question but couldn’t find one just like you couldn’t give an answer to Taehyung when he asked. You just threw your stuff out with no explanation.

“I don’t know. It just felt wrong to do it. Like it ripped something away from me”, you shrugged, opening the book to start flipping through the pages.

“Do you think you did something to me?”, he raised an eyebrow, watching the pages with you and he could barely see the recipes on the paper due to all the words filling them. Warnings, rules, and everything else under the moon seemed to be written in there. Jungkook had no idea how you could read that stuff.

“I’m not sure but it could explain why Taehyung seems to think we knew each other before. I just don’t know why I would do such a thing”, Jungkook finally got fed up with the crystal swaying back and forth, distracting him and he grabbed the damn thing to stop it. You tried to jump back from the sudden contact just for the bookcase to stop you in your tracks.

He seemed to freeze in place, hand tightly grasping the rose quartz. The memories seemed to rise from the dead, building up from the ash inside his brain. You were just staring at him with wide eyes as his cold eyes slowly started to well up with tears. You had no idea how you had upsetted him but you just stayed still in fear that you would make it worse.

“Jungkook? Are you okay?”, you looked up at him and his arms slowly wrapped around you, holding you so tight that you thought he would break your ribs.

“I know you don’t remember but just stay still a minute, princess”, Jungkook buried his face into your shoulder, rubbing your back as if he had known you forever.

“O-Okay”, your voice cracked, awkwardly rubbing his back in return. You never thought you would see such a fighter in such a fragile state.

“Ok, princess I need you to hold this”, he pulled back and held up the crystal to you. You didn’t understand considering you had touched that thing multiple times.

“Alright?”, you reached up and touched it with your finger to find that, like you expected, nothing happened.

“Nothing? Hmm, wrap your hand around it”, he gripped your hand and made you grip it just like he had, holding your hand on his own to keep it in place. You felt more from his hand than the necklace.

“Still nothing. What happened, Jungkook?”, you ripped your hand from his, getting a little freaked out from the sudden contact. Jungkook was into you but he never initiated physical contact past the club.

“I remember everything. We did know each other before the club. You’re the reason I know Taehyung”, you couldn’t deny that that checks out considering Taehyung had told you that the morning after the club.

“Really? Then, why can’t I remember?”, you frowned, looking down at the necklace as if it would suddenly work for you.

“You did a bond-breaking spell. The necklace must be connected to why you did it or something, right?”, Jungkook raised an eyebrow and you guessed that also makes sense since Taehyung said Jungkook gave it to you it.

“Listen, I know it’s confusing right now but we’ll figure it out, okay?”, he gently put his hands on your shoulders and you could see the sincerity in his eyes.

“Okay, do you remember anything that I had the night I did the spell?”, you raised an eyebrow, grabbing Jungkook’s hand to drag him out of the library and towards your apartment. You had to have done the spell there considering candles were needed for that spell.

“Not particularly”, you could tell he was deep in thought even though he was staring at you, probably trying to make up for the lost time you two had.

You began to go through the process of a bond-breaking spell in your head. Candles, carve the initials, tie the rope, and burn. Candles, carve the initials, tie the rope, and burn.

“That’s it! Burn!”, you stopped in your tracks, turning to look at Jungkook. He looked even more confused than before.

“You know nothing, do you? I had to burn the candles which means I used a lighter, right?”, you asked as if he could answer and you continued on your way, not even letting him answer before he was being dragged behind you again.

“Taehyung! Do you know where my lighter is?”, you stopped using the thing when you gave up witchcraft since you had no use for it. You had no idea what Tae had done with it after you gave it to him to use. He could use it more than you.

“Uh, why?”, he turned around on the couch along with Namjoon, both of them staring at you and a wide-eyed Jungkook. They looked at each other and then back at you both.

“I think I did a bond-breaking spell on Jungkook and I”, Taehyung just looked at you with a blank stare, having no idea what that meant, “aka I made us forget about each other”. You rolled your eyes.

“Oh, well that explains a lot. Why would you do that though?”, he tilted his head and Namjoon couldn’t help but be curious too. You looked at Jungkook along with them. He looked absolutely guilty.

“You have to listen all the way through cause it is going to sound bad at first”, he gently let go of your hand just in case and you all nodded, staring at him eagerly.

“Jimin and I were obviously close friends before and he dared me to try to take ___ out because he had some weird vendetta against her due to her religion. It started out as a deal when I started to talk to you and when you were tutoring me”, your face scrunched up at the knowledge that you were being played around with. No wonder you did the spell. You had to trust Jungkook though.

“I realized, though, that I really did like spending time with you. You made me a better person and student and I think I made you more confident in your religion which explains why both of those things were stripped away after the spell. Anyways, I only continued talking to Jimin to get the necklace as a gift for you but you overheard us talking and misunderstood. You did the spell before I could explain”, it seemed like Jungkook said it all in one breath but you understood enough for relief to flood through you. Your hand instinctively held onto the necklace.

“Wow, that’s a lot”, Namjoon blinked a few times like his brain couldn’t keep up with all the information.

“Yeah, for real. Now, let me try to remember where I put that lighter”, Tae jumped up and started rummaging through drawers in your kitchen. You couldn’t focus much on him though with all the information that was just thrown at you.

“Found it!”, it had probably been after a few minutes of you and Jungkook just staring at each other before Taehyung ran over with the white lighter in his hands. He stopped and held it out to you like it was a fragile item.

“Thank you. Hopefully this works”, you smiled weakly at Jungkook and he smiled back, trying to offer some courage. You finally picked up the lighter, warmth flooding into your hands and up your arms before your own memories started to reappear. Jungkook held onto you as you started to become overwhelmed, shaking where you stood. The feeling you had before the spell came flooding back.

Your heart begged for Jungkook just like your body did before.

You pressed your cheek against Jungkook’s chest, gently punching him with your fist over and over again.

“You’re such an asshole”, you mumbled and he laughed, wrapping his arms around you. His chin ended up on top of your head.

“How am I the asshole?”.

“For not just asking me to be your girlfriend in a normal way”, you sighed, knowing that all of this could have been avoided.

“I’m sorry”, Jungkook’s heart swelled as he kept reliving all of your memories together in his head. He gently ushered with his head for Taehyung and Namjoon to leave and they nodded, gathering their belongings before heading out the door.

“For importantly, though, change your major back to theology. You’re miserable, princess”, you raised your head to look at him, an eyebrow raised.

“Your makeup doesn’t really hide the eyebags”, he smiled apologetically, trying to explain how he knew as best as he could.

“Yeah, I know. I’ll change back”, you smiled, just staring up at what you now know is someone meant to be in your life.

“Good cause I was definitely prepared to take your calculator or something if I needed to”, Jungkook smiled and you didn’t respond, too lost in the memories that didn’t seem to stop. Some were much more distracting than others.

And Jungkook certainly wasn’t helping when one of his fingers was absentmindedly circling your hip bone under your shirt, the fabric having risen up a bit.

“Jungkook”, his eyes moved to follow you as you looked up at him, his finger never stopping the shapes he was drawing unknowingly. He seemed so lost in thought that he barely registered that you were leaning up to kiss him.

“Jungkook, baby, I can’t reach”, your hands cupped his cheeks and he finally snapped out of his trance, looking at you below him. You really couldn’t because of how tall he was, especially since he was wearing boots.

“Oh, sorry princess”, he chuckled and finally leaned down to mesh your lips together, electricity sparking through you both and his hands traveled higher up to your rib cage. Your body shivered in response, moaning into his mouth. Jungkook pulled back in shock, wondering what could have elicited such a response.

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s been a while”, you pouted and he just smiled, continuing to make shapes in your skin.

“I think this time I should make sure you never forget me”, he grinned and leaned down to cup the backs of your thighs with his hands, lifting you up effortlessly. Almost naturally, your legs wrapped around his waist.

“How do you plan on doing that?”, you run your fingers through his black hair, realizing it was much longer than before. You liked how curly it had become with the length.

“Well, if you will allow it, I want to treat you right this time”, Jungkook kissed the tip of your nose and you couldn’t help but nod. You had never seen such a sweet side to him and you were curious what that could be like in the bedroom. Especially considering you had not hooked up with anyone else after him.

“Please, Jungkook. But, I need you to know I haven’t done it since then”, he nodded and laid you down on your bed gently, hovering over you. It was a scene you’d love to get used to again.

“That’s okay. I’ll take it slow and if anything hurts please let me know, okay?”, you immediately nodded and Jungkook started to gently lift your shirt up until it stopped right below your breasts.

“God, I remember all the places I wanted to kiss you. I should’ve”, he sighs, pupils blown out as he takes you in.

“Really? Show me”, you were curious as you watched the man lean down, pressing his lips against the hip bone he had been circling earlier. You gasped as he suddenly bit down on the area and then licked it like he was soothing the pain.

“Here? Was this where my finger was?”, you felt yourself getting light-headed from both how close Jungkook was and from the aftermath of your memories and feelings coming back. “Princess”, his mouth moved upwards, teeth grazing against your skin until he made it to the lower part of your ribcage. “Here?”, you were so wet as you were focused on the past things Jungkook had done to you.

“Sweetheart, pay attention”, Jungkook began to push the fabric of your shirt a little higher and sucked on the underside of your boob. You immediately snapped out of the library memory that was playing in your head. Your hands were gripping his shoulders and you hadn’t even realized. “Here?”.

“Uh, yes. Well, no”, you shook your head to try to regain the past few moments back. “Oh, it was the first one!”, Jungkook chuckled at how excited you got, his hands pulling the shirt and bra off of you to throw off to the side. You shivered from how intensely he was looking at you from your chest, eyes locked on you.

“Do you remember when you realized you liked me?”, you asked, realizing Jungkook was now distracted. His eyes were darting from your breasts to your face, breathing shallow.

“Remember what?”, he finally asked, not even paying attention as he started to trace a finger around the birthmark on your ribcage.

“When you started to like me”, his hand came up to cup your breast and you instantly clenched around nothing.

“Ever since I laid eyes on you. Both times”, he looked up at you, eyes glazed over with so much lust and love that you were almost convinced this wasn’t Jungkook looking at you.

His eyes roamed until they were on the small of your back, pushing there gently to arch your back. You watched as he fit one of your breasts into his mouth, sucking on it as you rubbed your thighs together. You never noticed how sensitive your nipples were until they hardened under Jungkook’s tongue. Jungkook groaned and you looked down to notice he was stroking his cock between every breath he took between sucking your tits, watching the hard points of your nipples.

“Princess, I think I’ve changed my mind”, you were about to frown, wondering what you did wrong. Jungkook rested his head against your sternum, looking down at your body. “I think my favorite color must be red now”, he said as his finger trailed along the waistband of your underwear peeking out from over your skirt. He moved his finger down to push the skirt down your legs, shoving it off the bed along with your shirt.

You let out a sigh of relief and Jungkook smirked as his finger moved down your panties, grazing over your clit and down to the wet spot in the fabric. “Damn, princess”, he quietly whispered and your cheeks heated up at the knowledge that you were way too swollen and wet for how little he has done. “Your body really did miss me, huh?”, Jungkook looked up at you and you just nodded, too overwhelmed to speak.

He moved the fabric of your panties to the side, his finger getting soaked between your folds and he slowly started to sink the digit into your entrance. There was no resistance and Jungkook smiled at how you clenched around the finger, trying to make sure the pleasure wouldn’t leave.

“Fuck, you are so beautiful”, the words barely reached your ears as you closed your eyes, leaning against the pillow below you as pleasure erupted through you. You could feel Jungkook’s lips trailing along your stomach as he slowly added another finger, stretching you out more. His fingers were big and you had to open your legs further to make room. His other hand began to circle shapes on your hip.

“Relax, sweetheart”, your hands immediately gripped his arms when he curled his fingers just right inside of you, your mouth hanging open as pleasure went up your spine. He smiled at the sight, continuing to thrust into that spot. “There it is”, your nails were digging into his skin but Jungkook didn’t mind one bit. He only had one goal in mind and that was to get you prepped for him, resulting in his face slowly going lower down your body.

You didn’t really notice until you felt his warm tongue press against your clit, causing you to clench around his fingers and let out a gasp. Your hands moved to grip the sheets when Jungkook moved his own to hold your thighs apart, feeling them shake within his grasp. You could feel the knot in your stomach tighten up and you were clenching tightly around Jungkook’s fingers, barely allowing him to move them.

“I’m gonna cum! Fuck, Jungkook”, he kept his speed steady, swiping his tongue back and forth on your bundle of nerves until you’re cumming all over his fingers. He slowly pulled them out, letting you ride the orgasm. Embarrassment fills you as you look down to see his digits completely soaked in your arousal. Your chest rises and falls quickly as you calm down from your high.

“Can you handle more, baby? Can I fuck you?”, he’s gently rubbing your sore thighs as he looks down at you, waiting patiently for a response as you catch your breath. You move your hands to rub his arms, letting him know you’re okay.

“Yeah, please fuck me”, you nod and Jungkook kisses your forehead as he pulls down his pants and boxers. You watch as he starts pumping his cock with his hand, quickly being reminded of how big he is. Your mouth practically waters at the sight, watching as precum starts to leak from the tip.

He pushes himself between your thighs, aligning his cock with your entrance and the tip is pressing against your entrance.

“Are you ready? Let me know if it’s too much”, you nod and Jungkook leans down further against you, allowing you to wrap your arms around him as an anchor before he’s pushing himself in slowly. The burn of the stretch is worse than usual and your nails dig into Jungkook’s skin as you wince.

“Jungkook, hurts”, he immediately stops, looking down at you with concern. You wrap your legs around his waist and the new angle helps a little bit with the stretch.

“Just wait a second. I’m okay”, you smile reassuringly and he nods, pressuring his forehead against yours as he relishes in how you feel.

“Princess, you’re so tight and warm”, he sighs and you smile before you’re kissing him, getting used to the stretch he was providing you. You pulled back and gave Jungkook a nod. He slowly started to push more inside until he bottomed out, completely pressed against you.

“Can I move, princess? Or do you need more time?”, he gently pushed your legs up against your chest.

“You can move”, you nodded and looked down, watching as his cock completely came out of you just to go all the way back in as Jungkook moved. A bulge formed in your stomach every time he went back inside and you could’ve cum just at the sight of that.

“Fuck, I forgot how good you take my cock”, he groaned, watching the same scene you are and you clenched at the praise. Jungkook had to have noticed cause he grinned before his finger was circling your clit, enhancing the pleasure he was already giving you plenty of. He started setting an even pace and the familiar knot was forming again in your stomach, your legs shaking around Jungkook’s waist.

He was a little clumsy sometimes, cock slipping out just for him to have to align it back in but he felt too good for you to mind at all. His voice was tickling your skin as he whispered about how beautiful you are or how good you felt but you honestly couldn’t focus much on it. You were sucking him in deeper with every thrust he took, gripping him harder as if your body couldn’t let him go.

You watched as Jungkook trembled on top of you, pure pleasure going across his face as his cum filled you, spilling out as he continued to thrust. You grinned and bit into Jungkook’s shoulder as your own orgasm engulfed you, holding him close to you as he started to slow down.

“Would now be an appropriate time to ask you to be my girlfriend?”, Jungkook leaned back a bit to see your face, sweat dripping down both of your faces as his cock remained inside of you. You laughed and kissed him on the nose.

“Better late than never, I guess. Yes, I would love to be your girlfriend”, you nodded and Jungkook smiled at you, starting to place kisses anywhere he could reach before he collapsed on your chest.

“Good. Also, I’m going to buy you crystals after we rest. This place is boring without them”, your new boyfriend says as he briefly looks around your room. You do the same and realize he’s right.

“Sounds good to me”, you grin and finally let yourself rest, holding Jungkook as close as he was holding you.

#binxyu #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook imagines #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook #jungkook smuts #jungkook imagine #jungkook oneshots #jungkook oneshot #bts jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagines #bts oneshots #bts scenarios

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writingaboutdreams · 2 years

Text

Four Days

A/N = Yeah i have no explanation for this other than i had a thought. Also i wanted to try writing some oneshots for Morpheus so this is a first attempt. If you have any ideas for other things i should write send me an ask. Yeah, so enjoy.

Warnings = 18+ minors do not interact, heavy smut, swearing.

Y/n was sitting in her and her husband’s bedroom. It was the fourth day in a row he had not shown up for dinner. While she understood the obligations Morpheus had to his realm she couldn’t help but feel ignored. It was then that an idea came to her mind. A way to recapture her husband’s attention and remind him of his duties to her. With a mischievous grin she walks over to the wardrobe putting her plans into place.

When Morpheus finally came to their room she was curled up in the armchair. Legs tucked underneath her, pretending to be absorbed in a book. Moving slowly Morpheus took the seat opposite her. Taking in her outfit, the satin black room that barely covered her thighs. He swallowed.

He was aware that he had been rather neglectful. He was also aware of his wife’s wrath. There had been occasions when he had forgotten dinner and she refused to acknowledge him for days. He hoped this was not one of those occasions, longing for the touch of his love.

“How was your day, my queen?”

“Rather uneventful, quite unlike yours I expect.”

“I apologise for missing dinner-”

She shuts the book, interrupting him and places it on the table next to her. She stands, moving over to Morpheus before settling in his lap. His hands move automatically to her waist. Feeling the silky fabric covering her. “No apologies are necessary my lord,” Morpheus’s mouth feels dry all of a sudden, his wife knows exactly what effect that title has on him, “I understand your duties have been very demanding of you lately,” her tone is sympathetic and strokes a hand down his chest.

“I am thankful to have such an understanding wife,” His hands slide down to cup her rear but she stands suddenly. Extracting herself from his grip and he restrains himself from pulling her back down.

“I am very tired, my love. Let’s go to bed?” Her voice is light but Morpheus senses a trap. Nonetheless he stands and gets ready for bed. He watches as she washes her face. Sitting on the bed waiting for her to be done. As she walks over he can’t help but be entranced by her beauty. She stops at her side of the bed, faking a yawn. She can feel his eyes locked on to her, she manages to subdue the grin threatening to spoil her surprise.

Morpheus watches as with one hand she undoes the belt of her robe, it glides off of her and falls to the ground. He can’t stop his groan as he takes in her outfit. She’s wearing a red corset decorated with black lace that clings to her figure. Highlighting her curves perfectly. On her bottom half are a matching pair of underwear in the same colours. Morpheus moves towards her without a second thought. But before he can reach her she tuts.

“I’m too tired for that tonight husband,” this time she doesn’t hide the wicked smile on her face.

It’s now Morpheus understands his punishment. To lie next to his wife, to hold her in this outfit. It’s sweet torture. He’s already painfully hard and his hands twitch to grab her. To sink his fingers into where she is most likely already dripping. To kneel before her and make her cry in pleasure. To watch her ride him dressed like a true queen.

“My love please, I am sorry,” He begs too far gone in his desire for her to care.

“Are you now? Well I fear it’s four days too late,” she begins to crawl forward and Morpheus is frozen. Every muscle in his body held taunt to restrain from grabbing her. From taking her and claiming her as his. But he understands his wife’s anger and forces himself to bear her punishment. “Four nights I spent my days alone, ate my dinner alone and went to bed alone,” she climbs onto his lap and his grip tears the bedsheets in his effort to remain still.

“Maybe I should subject you to the same, four nights away from me. Four nights picturing me like this, hearing me moan your name as I pleasure myself while you cannot,” she breaths the words into his ear and he moans unabashedly. She pauses and for a moment he fears she will follow through on her threat. “But then I would be denying myself as well. No, I think you shall have to repent to me, my husband. For your neglect.”

He nods quickly, eager to be allowed to touch her. “Whatever you want my love, I wish only for your forgiveness, for your kindness,” his voice is lower than normal, knowing the effect it brings out on his wife. He watches her shiver, readjusting herself on his lap. He slowly strokes his hands up her legs, feeling the soft skin. “Let me bring you pleasure, my queen, let me serve you.”

“Go on then, show me how sorry you are,” at her words he springs into action. A hand wraps around her waist bringing her closer. Her clothed cunt grinding against his thigh. With a thought he removes his clothes and is rewarded by the feeling of her hands running over his shoulders. Nails scratching lightly making him groan as he brings their lips together. Dominating the kiss, he brings a hand to her hips. Making her grind against him faster. She gasps into his mouth and he greedily swallows the sound.

He moves away, taking in the view. His beautiful wife dressed as truly a queen should be grinding down on his thigh. He feels the material of her underwear is damp already. Her head thrown back, mouth agape as she moans. He brings his lips to her neck, sucking and biting possessive marks into the skin.

It’s not long before her movements become unsteady, he takes control of them. Making her move faster as she writhes in pleasure. “Morpheus ah fu-fuck, yes please, going to fuck-” she presses her lips against his. Kissing him as she reaches her peak, Morpheus doesn’t slow down. Extracting every ounce of pleasure as she cums. Eventually she pushes at his chest, mewling in overstimulation. He halts her movements then, moving them so she lies flat on the bed with him looming over her.

He kisses her neck again, moving down her collarbones and the tops of her breasts. As much as he wants to rip away the material keeping her from his touch. He is enjoying the view of her in this corset far too much. She had chosen this outfit deliberately, knowing he would lose his mind seeing her dressed in it.

His hands grip her thighs. Pushing her legs up to give him an unimpeded view of her soaked underwear. He moves down, positioning his head in front of her aching cunt. Sucking lightly on the fabric he groans as he tastes her.

“My husband, Morpheus please,” her hand winds its way into her hair and he is helpless to obey her. Sliding the ruined panties down her legs he tosses them to the side. Blowing lightly on her cunt he hears her whine. It’s nothing compared to the moan she lets out as he puts his mouth on her.

“Oh fuck yes Morpheus, so good, ah so fucking good for me,” he preens under her praise. Hands gripping her thighs tightly, stopping her from moving too much. He devours her, his tongue curling just right. Her hands grip his hair tighter then, unable to do anything as he knowingly works her cunt. Knowing what movements will make her squeal and beg for more.

She feels her next orgasm come over her quickly, shorter but more intense than the last one. She can only scream Morpheus’s name as he sucks on her clit. Just like the last one he works her through her orgasm. Making her experience waves and waves of pleasure. Eventually he raises his head to look at her as she pants wildly. “Need you in me now,” she yanks him up. Tasting herself on his tongue.

She wraps her legs around his hips, while he positions himself at her entrance. “Am i forgiven my love,” he asks, tone teasing. He pushes into her only slightly but she whines anyway. His hands tighten their hold on her hips, leaving bruises as a reminder.

“Yes, yes you are forgiven. Please don’t tease Morpheus.”

“But have you not been teasing me, my love? This outfit was a cruel cruel trick. Seeing you look so radiant, like a work of art come to love and being denied to find pleasure in you.”

“Morpheus don’t-”

“Don’t what my love?”

Her hand yanks at his hair, “If you don’t fuck me now my lord, i will leave you here wanting and i will pleasure myself,” she threatens.

Morpheus growls in response, “As my queen wishes.” With that he pushes into her with one smooth movement. Suddenly feeling full for the first time in days she finds herself babbling Morpheus names mixed with pleas. Morpheus finds himself feeling similarly overwhelmed. Her being so much tighter than usual and he struggles not to lose himself in it.

Morpheus presses his face against her neck as she throws her head back. Keeping a steady pace as he moves in and out of her. Easily finding that spot that makes her scream and see stars. “Never again my love, you will never feel neglected again. I will be by your side always. You will never go wanting again i will ensure it,” he speaks as if swearing an oath and she feels too overcome by pleasure to respond.

“I would spend every moment inside of you if I could. Worshipping you as the goddess you are,” his voice is low and rough. Seeing how undone he is pushes her closer to the edge.

“Morpheus please, so close,” she sobs, caught up in the feeling of him in her and surrounding her. Overwhelming every sense in her body.

“So good for me,” he coos, coaxing her closer and closer “Come for me again, i want to feel you come for me. Know that only I can make you feel like this. Only my touch, only my voice, only my cock,” his voice takes a possessive edge and she gets lost in it.

She screams his name as she cums. He follows quickly after her. The feel of her tightening around him, trying to keep him inside is too much. He pushes in one last time, coming deep within her. He holds himself over her panting, feeling her legs unwrap from him as she lies boneless on the bed. He kisses her sweetly then, peppering kisses down her face and neck.

He hears her giggle, pulling at his shoulders. He faces her, eyes gazing into hers. “I love you,” her voice is breathy and tired but there is devotion in it. He melts above her, “I love you too my heart, always.”

“We’re going to need a bath after this,” she says with a laugh and it makes his chest rumble.

“You make me lose myself, my love,” he pulls himself out of her and she winces. He waves his hand and she finds herself dressed in more comfortable clothing. He carries her to the bathroom, a hot bath already prepared for her.

“What did I do to deserve you, hm?”

“I was asking myself the same thing, my love.”

#morpheus x reader

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fruit-salad-ship · 5 months

Text

Mafia au really does creep in when I’m painting (decorating house) and honestly? I can’t wait to write the point those girls realise that they’re actually madly in love.

It starts as a fling, just fun, peach is so painfully aware that someone like plum won’t hang around that town for long. It’s no place to find fame, and that’s plums goal. So peach just resigns herself to the thought that while it’s strange someone so prim and proper is paying attention to her, perhaps this singer is simply getting her fix of the rougher sort, perhaps she just was trying out a partner who’s a little meaner visually, a little more dubious morally. Unsure of the specifics, it didn’t matter. The pair continue to see each other, days out, nights in, trips to towns over and stays in hotels that all seem so enjoyable.

And then the truth bomb drops. It’s been a while, perhaps a year or so of them just always being together. They thought they’d get sick of it but they just haven’t, and sure they’ve argued, they’ve had disagreements, it never seems to keep them apart for more than a few hours.

Plum gets in a conversation at the bar, no one knows she’s dating peach, the very person who owns the establishment, they’ve kept this very quiet to avoid prejudice. But someone asks the singer if she’s seeing someone, a longing patreon perhaps rising to the opportunity of talking to her after her set. And plum without thought says yes, she’s very much in love with someone, is taken, is happy. This disappoints the men around her, but peach is pouring a pint for someone, and overhears this. Looks over, just watching her. Plum is none the wiser that she’s been heard, she’s busy enjoying the night. Peach’s pint overflows, she wasn’t looking at what she was doing, lost count of the seconds it takes for that amount of liquid to fill a glass, the distraction too great, grey laughs at her clumsiness, unaware what was just said.

All night peach is completely pulled from work, and before long the last two in the bar are her and Plum, the habitual process of staying late to hang out after cleaning up, and so peach can walk her home safely, they can chat and catch up. But boss is quiet, plum notices it. Asks her whats up, but she’s being cagey, invites her into her apartment, coaxed in by the bad weather and the offer of a hot drink. Peach can’t say no, hasn’t been able to for a long time now.

It comes up, peach mentions she overheard the whole “love” thing, kind of a strong word. This big woman is still convinced plums going to find her fame and leave, and rightly so! She’s talented, peach wants her to chase her dreams and be happy, she knows she has no right to stop her and has been resisting the urge to just follow when plum finally goes, too dedicated and tangled up in the family business to be able to do that. But god she’s tempted.

Plum hears her, hears the expectations of her leaving, hears the open mind to her getting where she needs to go, even hears the undertone of support at every turn, she sees peach is just kind of pushing down the fact that she’s expecting abandonment. That her big tough boss is dare she say it, sulking a little because she’s expecting the worst.

Plum catches peach off with a laugh, puts her hand on the big woman’s thigh and tells her things change. Maybe she use to dream of being some star on the stage, maybe she wanted to live somewhere else, maybe she didn’t expect any of this. But the truth is she’s changed, she wants to stay somewhere she’s loved and respected, in the company of someone she truly has come to adore, way more than anyone else.

They get to talk about some deep seated truths, and while it takes some time to pry that from peach, all plum has to do is ask, say please with those big brown eyes, and she caves. The realisation that they’re both hopelessly devoted to each other, and the worst part that peach hasn’t fully showed her the nature of her work, that this is so desperately what she wants but also she’d be lying if she went into this. But who could say no to plum? She’s just holding her hand like it’s anchoring her to the ground, so peach has to decide: let her in on… the bloody truth, that her and her family have killed many and will continue to do so. OR continue to keep a secret. A big, horrible, difficult secret. Peach can’t do it to her, and swears to figure out a way to tell the truth before things get too serious. Plum will surely leave her when she finds out; but at least she didn’t continue to lie.

The focus point is that they both love each other a lot, now it’s just a case of making this work, or accepting peach will be alone as soon as the truth it out.

Peach is frightened.

Plum is overjoyed.

#I think about mafia au all the time #it truly is the tragic love story I crave #fruit salad #brainrot #mafia au

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coloursflyaway · 11 days

Note

That's so sweet of you to even reply! Um now that you've put me on the spot 😂..honestly I'm a bit clueless 😅. I'm not very imaginative. I just really enjoy reading zowens and so far the few I've read from a couple of you guys have been reallyy good reads!

All I know is that may be something where it's mutual pining and Sami's lost all hope but it's actually not unrequited?? May be a bit of possessive Kevin thrown in? Idk 😭 is what I just said even classified as a prompt??

PS. I know you said you haven't watched wrestling in a while but did you happen to catch the zowens moments at wrestlemania at all! ? 😍😁

Hi!!

So, first of all, great prompt, fits them fantastic, loved it. I just ended up overdoing it by a little, I think, so now it's not really a prompt fill anymore, but a whole fic 😂 really didn't expect that because writing has been Hard lately, so thank you for that!!

Here's the AO3 link, but I'll include the text here too.

PS. I have mainly seen the gifsets of them, but they are!!! so!!!! I love them ♥

There is a brand-new, shining belt in his hands and Sami is aware that this should be the happiest moment in his life. It isn’t. He looks down at the silver plates, the leather strap, heavy and solid and everything he worked for, and he’s happy, of course, but in the back of his mind, he knows that it doesn’t compare to - Well. No matter. Some things you cannot have; Sami has learnt that years and years ago.

Kevin’s face is shining with joy about the match he won and the beers he has had to celebrate it, and Sami’s heart aches at the sight, fierce and wild and beautiful. “The next time”, Kevin mutters into the too-short distance between them, and when Kevin takes another deep swig of his drink, Sami knows that he will have forgotten the words the next morning, “the next time, we’ll tag and we will take all of them out. Jus’ you and me, we’ll fuck them up and send them back crying to their mothers. An’ then we’ll do it again, and again, and again, until we’ll get a shot a’ the titles and then we’ll take ‘em too. An’ we’ll be unstoppable.”

He’s beaming and leaning in and Sami feels himself swaying closer, cannot stop himself. Kevin is magnetic, always has been, and Sami sometimes wonders how long he’ll be able to stop himself from giving in to his pull.

There is a knock on the door of his dressing room, which finally pulls him out of his reverie. Sami takes a moment to compose himself before he answers, wiping silly fantasies from his mind that he has known to be useless for most of his life now like he would wipe tears from his eyes. He’s used to both, after all. “Come in!”

The door swings open, and he shouldn’t, but Sami knows who is behind it before he sees Kevin standing there. “Shouldn’t you be celebrating?”, Kevin asks instead of a greeting, stepping into the room like he owns it. In some way, Sami guesses, he does. “What makes you think that’s not what I am doing?”, he asks back, getting up, because knowing Kevin, he’ll be pulled into a hug within the next thirty seconds. Knowing himself, he won’t ever be able to turn down a chance to be close to Kevin.

His words draw a laugh from Kevin’s lips that Sami treasures, and just like Sami knew he would, Kevin wraps his arms around him the second Sami has stood up. The edges of his belt presses into his stomach painfully, but that is a small price to pay for the comfort of Kevin’s thick, warm arms around him, the faint tickle of Kevin’s beard against Sami’s neck.

“To start with”, Kevin begins to answer while still pressed against Sami, only slowly pulling back, “because you are in here and not out there, where you should be. Also, because I have known you for more than half my life and this isn’t your celebratory face.”

“Sounds good”, he replies easily, then adds, “only that we’ll have to wait a bit longer with doing that, I’m booked to tag with Quicksilver the next show. But after that…” He doesn’t expect more than a scoff – Kevin isn’t that fond of Quicksilver, but then again, he isn’t fond of a lot of people – but instead, Kevin’s face darkens, his brows furrowing and his eyes suddenly glistening in the dim light of the bar. It’s a look Sami half-recognises from the ring, because the intensity is almost the same, but there is something else mixed into it. Something dark, something dangerous, something alluring.

He’s right, of course he is, but Sami still tries for a few moments to come up with an excuse, before he finally nods. It wouldn’t make a difference, saying anything else, when Kevin knows him so well. “It’s nothing”, he adds, because he can see Kevin starting to worry within half a second. “Just a bit of nostalgia. Reminiscing about the old days, you know the drill.” “How old?”, Kevin asks and, thank God, the smile is back in his voice and his eyes and Sami wants to luxuriate in it, wants to stay here forever. In any moment with Kevin, really.

“Ring of Honor old”, he replies with a wry smile, because it almost feels like a confession; to be here, at the pinnacle of his career, and thinking about being young and dumb and so, so hopeful. Again, it makes Kevin laugh, makes him clasp a hand on the side of Sami’s shoulder; a point of contact that is so warm it would be enough to sustain him through a winter. “That is old.” “I know.” “Anything special? Or just the general beauty of horrible hotels, being sixty percent bruises and having to put me in bed after I drank my weight in shitty lager?”

There is something about old wounds, the way their pain becomes familiar, almost an old friend. Sami’s lips tingle, remembering, his heart aches, dull and yet fierce, but he smiles nonetheless, too used to the pain for it to feel disruptive.

“All of the above, I’d say.”

“Quicksilver?”, Kevin repeats, and even his voice is different, rough and full of something that Sami doesn’t understand, yet desperately wants to. “Yes. You know, silver and blue mask, used to hang around with Scorpio Sky?” “I know who he is”, Kevin replies, but his voice hasn’t changed. Maybe Sami missed a fight between them in the past? “Why are you tagging with him?”

Sami self-consciously pushes a hand through his hair; it’s becoming too long again. “Well, he asked and I didn’t see anything wrong with giving it a shot. He seems like a-” “You shouldn’t tag with anyone but me”, Kevin interrupts him, and suddenly Sami does recognise what is dripping from every word he speaks: hunger. “Fuck Quicksilver. Fuck all of them. They don’t have what we have. They never will.”

“Doesn’t sound very celebratory”, Kevin states, but there is humour in his voice. “How about tomorrow, after I win the United States Championship, we’ll do it properly? I don’t think I’ll be able to give you the customary three dozen bruises until then, but if you really miss it so much, I am sure we can find some terrible highway motel we can crash in. And as long as it’s better beer, I don’t mind drinking too much of it.”

It’s a joke, of course it is, and a sweet half-serious offer to relive a bit of a time Sami misses dearly on occasion, and yet it’s suddenly too much. Because he has a title in his hands, because out there, there are thousands who cheered for him, and yet, it isn’t the happiest moment in his life, not by far.

The familiar ache in his chest breaks open like the earth cracking in half to spew fire, and Sami knows that he cannot keep the pain from his face even before Kevin reacts. But react he does, worry suddenly clouding his gaze, the hand he still has on Sami’s shoulder gripping harder.

“Sami?”, he asks, and his voice is too much, his gaze, his concern, his friendship that has never been all Sami wanted. “Are you alright? Should I get a doctor?”

“I’m okay”, Sami manages to force out, but he doesn’t sound it, not even to himself. “Just. Don’t say that, Kevin. Not with the… the shitty hotels and the drinking.” It takes a moment to get a reaction, which Sami understands; he isn’t making sense, after all. But then, all of a sudden, Kevin’s expression crumples, his shoulders drop like a burden, half-forgotten, has been forced upon them once more.

“I’m sorry”, he mutters, fingers tightening reflexively around Sami’s shoulder before they fall away. “I never… the last time, when I got so drunk you had to take me to my room, you never told me what happened, even if I have an inkling… I don’t think I ever had the guts to say it, but I’m sorry. For whatever it is I did.”

“Kevin”, he breathes out, unsure, because surely this cannot be happening. Sami has been aware of his own feelings for years, but there is no way they could be requited. And yet, there is a glint in Kevin’s eyes that looks like yearning; and yet, Sami’s heart picks up its pace, spelling out in morse code: pleasepleasepleaseplease.

A moment of silence stretches between them, thick and viscous, then Kevin knocks back the rest of his beer, before crushing the can and dropping it on the floor. “Fuck it”, he mutters, and Sami wants to ask what he means, but before he can get the words out, Kevin reaches out, one hand on Sami’s hip, one on the side of his neck, and pulls him in. He tastes of gas station beer and stale chips and almost ten years of quiet, desperate, hopeless longing, and even before he manages to kiss back, Sami knows that this is the happiest he ever will be.

“What?”

Kevin isn’t looking at him anymore, but there is so much pain written in clear, horrible letters across his face that it washes away the ache in Sami’s chest; how could it matter, when Kevin is hurting right in front of him?

A wry laugh escapes Kevin’s lips, which might be the worst sound Sami has ever heard, but then he speaks, still not looking at Sami, and makes it worse. “I’m sure you remember it as well as I do, that one night when we were still in ROH. Before you started tagging with Quicksilver. When Chuck, I think, got all that horrible beer from the gas station around the corner and I just didn’t know when to stop. I never had the guts to ask what happened either, but you were so different afterwards, didn’t want to be touched, to be alone with me… and the scribbling on my arm… tell me if I’m wrong, but after some time I figured that I probably, you know. Kissed you. Which I shouldn’t have, of course. Against your will. So, don’t worry, I won’t do that again. Ever.”

“Did you sleep well?”, Sami asks the next morning when Kevin opens the door of his hotel room, looking dishevelled and hungover and utterly beautiful. For once, they had splurged on two hotel rooms instead of sharing one, and while Sami wishes he could have woken up next to Kevin, maybe even wrapped up in his arms, this, too, is wonderful.

He hands Kevin one of the coffees he picked up at a nearby café, idly wondering if this could become his thing now, treating his… his Kevin to coffee in the morning. After all, he usually is up far earlier than the other.

“Ugh”, Kevin replies, taking a gulp of coffee before even trying to form words, and it might be the most enchanting sound Sami has ever heard. “Think so. Can’t remember much. About sleeping or last night. Did you get into a fight, by the way?”

“What? No, no fights”, Sami replies distractedly, wondering if that means Kevin doesn’t remember their kiss, wondering if that means they will get to have two first kisses. Almost smiles at how much he will get to tease Kevin about it if he really has forgotten. All but plans to start the story of how they got together with this from now on: you know, I was in love with Kevin for almost a decade and he kisses me and then immediately forgets about it! Can you believe that?

“You sure?”, Kevin asks again between sips of coffee. “I know my handwriting is awful and drunk it’s even worse, and the letters are really smudged, but I wrote Don’t fuck with Sami on my arm last night.”

It takes a moment to sink in through the layers of happiness and imagined mornings and afternoons and evenings together, but eventually, Sami learns what it feels like to have the world end while not making a sound.

Sami recognises the pain on Kevin’s face; it’s the twin of his own, the one that has been with him for so long that it has found its permanent home at the bottom of his heart, with him in every moment he spends with Kevin, every one they are apart. It’s old and it’s weary and it’s familiar, and Sami should hate it, but.

But if his heart houses the other half of it, then that has to mean something.

And then Kevin says kissed, and for a moment, Sami thinks that he remembers, before realising that, no, he doesn’t, and somehow that is worse.

“You did”, he answers, and finally, Kevin looks at him again. His eyes are wide and terrified and still beautiful, and Sami hasn’t allowed himself to think it for a decade at least, but he loves him so much it is tearing him apart. “You kissed me that night. And then you didn’t remember it the next day, only had that writing on your arm and I thought you were trying to warn yourself not to do it again. But. Kevin. I kissed back.”

Kevin stumbles into his room, his lips still tingling with the last kiss Sami pressed onto them before closing the door behind him. Smiling so brightly Kevin thought he would burn up just looking at him, so happily that Kevin wanted to burn. Sami. The name alone is enough to make something within Kevin break open and pour out six or seven or eight years of pure love into the space between his ribs. He can’t explain why he had the courage to kiss Sami tonight, when he had sworn to himself he never would again and again and again, but now, knowing how Sami’s lips feel against his, how his hair feels between his fingers, his body pressed against Kevin’s, he thanks every divine entity he might believe in or not that he did.

Sami.

The alcohol is making his movements sluggish and sloppy, but Kevin manages to find a pen at the bottom of his backpack anyway, stored away for – maybe, hopefully – signing autographs after the show. He didn’t, but not even that matters anymore, because he needs it now for something much more important.

Don’t forget kiss with Sami, he writes on his arm, letters sloping and curling into each other, a smudge across half of it.

Not that he thinks there is much risk of doing so. After all, hadn’t Sami kissing him back been the happiest moment of his life?

There is no answer for several seconds, Kevin just staring at him like he has changed his life and hung the stars and the moon and the sun itself, and Sami is stuck in place until he isn’t anymore. Because the first time, years and years ago, Kevin had been brave enough to take the first step, and afterwards, Sami hadn’t dared to do the same. But maybe now is the time to return the favour.

Trembling, he picks up Kevin’s hands, which are warm and familiar, have caused as much hurt as they have healed, and puts them on his own body: one on his hip, the other on the side of his neck. And he steps closer, until he’s so close he can read the hopeful disbelief in Kevin’s eyes, can feel that the other’s breath has stopped.

“It was just like this”, Sami explains, and Kevin’s gaze drops to his lips, shoots up again as if he has to make sure that Sami wants this. “You didn’t want me to tag with Quicksilver. Or anyone else. You said that they could never have what we have, and you were right, and then you pulled me in and-”

Kevin kisses him.

He tastes like chewing gum and Red Bull and love, and Sami drinks him in until it feels like he is drowning, and even before he manages to kiss back, Sami knows that this, now truly, is the happiest he ever will be

#kevin owens #sami zayn #zowens #kevin steen #el generico #steenerico #wwe #wrestlemania

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outeremissary · 21 days

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△ how do you think you will die? (directed at the oc you feel like answering this for!)

Sorry for the delay!! As sometimes happens with things given an option I uhhhh. Wrote four versions of this after getting home from work last night. I'll give you the one with the highest final distress rating!

[prompt]

“How will I die?” Kasander cocks their head, chewing at their lip. Idly, their hands play with the hem of their tabard in their lap. “I mean, I don’t really know! There are a lot of ways to die, and I’ve already gone through a few of them! Like, you’re asking for the last one, right? One I won’t come back from? Ah, I guess it’s kinda hard to picture… Once you’ve bled out a few times it kinda kills the imagination!”

A light laugh, which dies off as they notice that you aren’t laughing. Their picking at the embroidered hem intensifies. The frayed gold threads have already been worried well past their limit, but somehow Kasander finds ways to split them further. The tailor of the heroic garment would surely weep to see its mistreatment.

“I guess like… what are you asking? When I’m gonna be alone? When no one’s gonna want to bring me back? When Shadowheart’s gonna die?” The feverish final note is cut short as the fabric in their lap is twisted so sharply that they jump, staring at their own hands in confusion. They relax slowly, but even when they turn back to you the way they still watch themself, untrusting, is plain to see.

“Um… I guess, like, since that’s the question, I guess maybe I could… get sick? Or maybe one of these cultists is gonna get us, some time. I don’t know. There are a lot of ways, right? I don’t think I’ve got any good ideas.” They sigh loudly, flopping back onto the ground with arms spread wide. The tabard hem is released once more from its torment.

“I’m not any good at this,” they groan, muffled now by the angle. “I don’t have any idea, sorry.”

They lay there, stewing, and the awkward pause drags on long enough that you’re painfully aware of the papery rustle of leaves and thin buzz of late afternoon insects. Somewhere in the distance an argument is happening over the campfire, the words floating across your senses as the quiet between you and Kasander drags on. Finally, they shift on the ground, sighing again: quiet, without theatrics.

“Does it really matter anyway?” Their voice is so soft the words are only half-distinct. “I mean, you wouldn’t know. But none of it sticks. Maybe you’re stuck with me forever.

“Maybe some people don’t get to leave.”

[9/10, deeply uncomfortable. They’ve already been denied death on their own terms.]

#carmen had the lowest ranking at a solid 3. balthazar and asperia clock in at 5 and 8 respectively.#asperia's was the longest by far. I was in the Sauce with that absurd villain monologuing.#this one is nice though no one is pressuring our POV character into drinking or calling them names #ask game #kasander #emi plays bg3 #archduke-enver-gortash #thanks for the patience :')#realizing now I understood the assignment wrong with the numbers. whoops.#would only change carmen's though it would drop her to a 0 she doesn't give a shit

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littledreamling · 1 year

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I'm already regretting asking but I just came across you Sad Dreamling Headcanon™ and you hinted in your first post about it at more thoughts and feelings on it, would you like to spill them ? *braces herself*

Sorry for the unreasonably late response 😅 life got away from me but I’m finally back on my angst bullshit!

A fair few of my thoughts about these posts boil down to incoherent internal sobbing, laughing, and screaming.

Once we get past that, however, my mind turns towards the inevitable question: what happens next?

Obvious comic spoilers (and a warning that I haven't finished the comics, nor do I have easy access to the ending so any mistakes are... now part of the AU because I said so)

----

Daniel takes on the mantle of Dream of the Endless. He's not sure he ever had a choice; he's not sure he would've said no even if he did. Morpheus had prepared him for the ascension, his memories behind a thin gossamer veil, both his and not his. Nothing, however, could've prepared him for this.

The first pang had felt like what he assumed a heart attack would feel like: a vice grip around the heart he didn't have. But it was his first moment of consciousness in his new body and the pain was overshadowed by the overwhelming onslaught of memories and knowledge that flooded his brain, a tidal wave of Dream of the Endless. The pain fell by the wayside, minuscule in comparison.

By the time he had gotten used to the crushing weight in his mind, he had gotten so busy that he didn't have time to pay attention to his physical body. He wasn't even totally sure he had a physical body anymore. His inherited realm was in ruins, invaded and destroyed by the Kindly Ones, left to rot. One by one, he restored his precious dreams and nightmares, beings that he had intimate memory of lovingly created, despite never having touched them before. His skin was new; his subconscious was not.

There was one part of the Dreaming, however, that refused to heal. It was a void, a dark stain in the very fabric of his realm. It relocated so often that he didn't even notice it at first; indeed, it took far too long for the moving black hole to catch his attention. It took even longer for him to realize it was expanding. Not enough to be spotted immediately, just enough to be concerning.

He doesn't investigate it alone. He might've inherited his mind from Morpheus, but his common sense came from forces beyond even his predecessor. Lyta Hall hadn’t given birth to a fool.

He takes Matthew with him. Matthew had become an invaluable ally in his painfully short journey of ascension and they make their way, together, towards the black hole, watching as it writhes and twists in the air, unnatural and revolting. When Matthew cannot make heads or tails of the strange void, Daniel calls for Merv. He stomps up, a cigarette clamped between his pumpkin lips, and promptly declares ignorance, every other word an expletive that Daniel, had he been mortal, had he been human, would not have heard for another two decades.

It is Lucienne who approaches, hesitantly, almost apologetically.

“My Lord,” she hedges, “your siblings are at the gates, requesting an audience.”

Daniel has never had siblings before. Now he has six. He suddenly finds himself nervous, in ways that he’s not sire he could ever articulate, if pressed. He’s suddenly intimately aware of his own youth.

“Dream,” Desire greets when the gates open, oddly solemn. Perhaps not oddly. Their brother has just died. Their brother is standing before them. It is a solemn affair. Death and Despair, too, are grim-faced. This, too, is not odd. Daniel knows this.

“Do not call me that,” he says, though he knows not why. Dream is who he is. Dream of the Endless. No one else can possess the mantle. Morpheus has no claim to it anymore. “My name is Daniel.”

“Daniel,” Death greets, and it sends a wave of warmth through him. He had not realized that Dream of the Endless played favorites so heavily among his own family.

“Death. Desire. Despair.”

He greets each of them in turn. Daniel will not play favorites. Clean slate.

“Daniel,” Desire starts, then stops. Daniel has never known Desire to have shame or reluctance. “I have no doubt that you have noticed.”

Daniel tilts his head. He says nothing. Morpheus had bestowed upon him a healthy respect for the impact of silence.

“The remnants,” Desire continues. “Of Morpheus’… desire.”

“The void.” Daniel confirms. “It is growing. It is… my desire?”

“It is the desire of Dream of the Endless,” Desire says. “Passed down from Morpheus to you, an unlucky hand of cards.”

Daniel wants to close the gates, suddenly. He does not want to hear any more ways in which his predecessor failed. His realm of ruins has been enough.

“Daniel,” Death says. “It will continue to grow. It’s not a desire you can get rid of. It’s inherited love for a man you will never meet.”

“Hob Gadling.”

Daniel does not miss the way Death flinches at the name.

“Hob is dead,” Despair speaks up for the first time. “The love that Morpheus had for him lives on. It has nowhere to go. It will consume you and your entire realm. Morpheus started a cycle that no one can stop. Dream of the Endless will cease, doused by Endless Devotion.”

Silence descends. It is a peculiar silence, only possible in the Dreaming; a complete stillness, a bated breath, an enduring flatline, moments or hours before a restarted heartbeat.

“Morpheus spelled my doom.” Daniel says. It is not a question.

“I am here to offer my hand,” Death replies. “My gift. You need not suffer under what Morpheus has wrought.”

“And if I do? If Despair spoke truly, my death will achieve nothing,” Daniel says. “An endless cycle.” It is difficult not to place emphasis on his newly-received family name. If his siblings are to be believed, he will not wear it for long. “If Despair spoke truly, my successor will suffer the same fate, and their successor beyond. Dream of the Endless will cease.”

There are no answers; the Endless siblings have none to give.

“Thank you, my siblings,” Daniel says at last. “I must return to my realm. Morpheus has left me with many pressing issues, his devouring love notwithstanding. I must attend to as many of my duties as I can before passing on my helm.”

True to his word, Daniel continues his function, restoring his realm to its former glory, shining and resplendent, steadfastly fighting against the ever-growing darkness that ravages every corner of the Dreaming it brushes against. Daniel can feel it, in the hollow space behind his ribs, an expanding mass of anguish; the love of a dead man for a dead man.

Time works differently in the Dreaming. It could have been decades, centuries, millennia. In the end, it doesn’t matter. Daniel is dying. The Dreaming is dying. Darkness presses against the throne room door, the last standing fragment of his beloved realm. His subjects huddle together, scared, their gazes drawn again and again to the stone door, cracking and splintering against the weight.

Daniel knows what he must do. His death will ensure the continuation of the Dreaming, if only for a short while. There is power in youth, power enough to stave off such overwhelming grief. His successor will have power Daniel only had upon first ascending. Power to keep the Dreaming alive. Power Daniel no longer has. It is time.

“Death,” Daniel says. “I am ready.”

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strlstlvr · 1 year

Text

ERASE, a yang jungwon smau ♡

TRACK SIX. 13430 (written + smau)

◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹

JUNGWON POV.

While he loved being around his friends, he was still an introvert and after watching your performance he definitely needed to think alone.

Walking outside to the porch area of the cafe, the cool night breeze hits his face making him exhale the breath he didn’t even know he was holding.

Once he inhales again he realizes he smelled something, it was lingering as the wind hadn’t blown it completely away yet.

The scent he realizes was familiar, one that he thought he forgot.

Just when those memories start to come back, as he turns the corner there you are.

You hadn’t noticed him walking towards you, you were standing still smiling at whatever was coming in on your right.

He was gonna try to make it past you without you noticing but it was too late when a blonde haired jiung joined your side, throwing his arm over your shoulder, you finally turned into his direction.

‘ah shit’, he thinks as you both make eye contact making him come to an awkward stop in front of you two.

“hey?”, you say shifting uncomfortably.

“hey”

“how are you?”

“i’m doing okay”, he lies and you could tell, jiung could tell.

The other boy clears his throat as he looks down at his phone, “y/n, keeho says he needs us back inside”

“right”, you turn around and give a wave goodbye seeming as if you couldn’t wait to leave that conversation.

As you fade out of sight, jungwon realizes his heart is pounding, a kind of pound in his heart that feels like it’ll explode.

Inhaling your scent once again, a chill runs down his spine.

‘The temperature right now is -248 degrees’ he thinks to himself, when did it get so cold?

As he finally brings himself back into reality, he continues his forgotten path, trying to shake his mind of you.

Seeing you with Jiung, it made him realize that you had already moved on.

Your life continued to change with the seasons, you erased him, you forgot him.

At the end of his walk he came to a conclusion,

you were the only planet he wanted to orbit.

He wishes that he could be the one casually throwing his arm around you, the one that made you smile just by the mere sight of him.

The smile that shines so brightly, it’s as warm as the sun.

He’s painfully aware of the fact that no matter what he’ll continue to orbit you like he hasn’t stopped doing.

But during the beginning of the end of your relationship, keeping you two apart, appeared a smoky layer of mist in the heart of the stars.

Eventually that mist became so thick the darkness and growth of it began pulling you and him apart.

Once feeling like he had just as much meaning as the Earth, belonging in a world under the sun.

The boy was now just going in circles, a meaningless orbit 6,289,000,000 miles away from you.

A/N! this chapter is so short but it took me so long omg😭😭😭 if you couldn’t tell this chapter is based off the lyrics and storyline of 13430 by bts (my literal favorite song ever), ik it’s been a lot of jw pov but next chapter will hopefully be longer as it’s all just y/n’s pov!! also the i got the translation of lyrics by genius so i apologize if it’s not correct🫠 but the chapter will make so much sense if you read it and look at the annotations!!!

TAGLIST! @fadedluvv @ifearjwn @yyumiii1 @woncheecks @astrae4 @kpopstanmeg

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summerofsnowflakes · 2 years

Text

Wicked Games V

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader (Avenger)

Word Count: 5.1K

Warnings: This is a 18+ series, MDI, mentions of cheating, swearing, angst and mending relationships.

A/N: This is the final part!! I know this took me a very long time, but this fic has been a big journey for me and I wanted to make sure I was happy with this before I posted it and I am so happy with how it's turned out. I know this ending won't be for everyone but I hope you can still enjoy it!

Dividers by the fantastic @firefly-graphics

Wicked Games Masterlist | Masterlist

You rested your elbows against the fence that surrounded the Wilson’s property. Sunglasses shielding your eyes from the bright, burning sun that beat down onto your face. The light rays were like a warm hug enveloping your senses and preaching serenity to your body.

This was your favourite time of the day, the sun slowly driving down towards the edge of the water, the whole of Louisiana was engulfed in an orange hue. It was beautiful.

You took slow, deep breaths painfully aware that each inhale bought you a second closer to seeing the faces of the family you’d run away from.

You barely noticed Sam as he wandered over, he was so stealthy and your widow senses weren’t on high alert these days. He cleared his throat, capturing your attention and offered you a beer.

You smiled back at him, doing your best to imitate the lies of the sun, you were a picture of serenity on the surface. Underneath your heart was beating erratically in your chest, you were a mess.

You took the beer in your shaky hand and sipped it slowly, the cool condensation encased your palm mingling with the warm beads of sweat that dripped from your pores.

The sun slipped further down its slide, the end of the afternoon drawing to a close, taking you forced calmness with it.

Sam watched you silently, his eyes flickering between you and the water. A million questions teetered on the tip of his tongue but he was unwilling to disturb your peace, so he remained silent.

“You’re doing that thing again.” You pointed out with your eyes still firmly closed and a playful smirk resting on your lips.

“Doing what?” He laughed, taking another sip of his beer.

“Looking at me as if I’m about to shatter into a million pieces.” You stared straight into his brown eyes, quirking your eyebrow at him. “Just ask what you wanna ask.”

“I don’t like that you know me that well, Buttercup.” He scoffed, allowing a beat to pass before he opened his mouth again. “You ready for tonight?”

A humourless laugh slipped past your lips, “not even slightly.” You shook your head, feeling the anxiety rise within you. “But it’s too late to turn back now and uninvite everyone. Right?”

Sam’s laugh was drowned out immediately by the whooshing sound of quinjet landing. The gentle summer breeze transformed into a thrashing gust of wind that threatened to blow everything away. Your question was answered in a way he never could have.

Sam offered you a sympathetic smile, resting his hand over yours he squeezed it gently. “I’m gonna go say hi, come over when you’re ready.”

You nodded, watching as he walked over the group of Avengers that filled off the jet one by one. It was like watching your old life through the looking glass, what it would have been like if you’d never been a part of the team.

Seeing them now reminded you of all the good amongst the overwhelming bad and you missed every one of them.

You watched as they unloaded mountains of stuff from the quin jet and into the house, they were staying for one night and brought enough provisions for a month long stay. It had Steve’s name all over it.

You wanted to help, to catch up but fear kept your feet rooted in the ground, the long strings of green grass tied knots over your shoes.

Your eyes found Steve first, looking handsome and chiselled, just as perfect looking as always. He looked almost exactly the same as the last time you’d seen him, only now there was no anger and shame etched into his features.

Bucky was only a few steps behind his friend, moving gingerly as he carried two bulky bags off the jet and over to the house.

He looked different, he’d cut his hair since the last time you’d seen him. He stood a lot taller, more proud to be in the room than before.

Your heart stopped when his eyes flickered over into your direction, he offered you a friendly smile before disappearing into Sarah’s house. You smiled back at him but he had already moved away, he missed it.

Seeing his face, seeing no signs of anger or malice in his features calmed your senses. You were certain now, you could make it through this evening.

After all, you’d come so far since the last time you’d seen everyone. Two years away from everything had allowed you to grow, to become your own person.

That had been your intention when you’d moved to New York, but being with Bucky and living in your respective trauma’s had gotten in your way. You couldn’t move on when you were too wrapped up in pain and familiarity.

The time and space from him and the city gave you the tools to let go and move on.

There was something special about Delacroux. The quiet, muggy air was more breathable than the dusty smog that blanketed New York. The laid back, tight knit community welcomed you in with open arms, their kindness kept you here way longer than you’d originally intended.

The night that Sam had brought you to his childhood home, you’d been a complete wreck, body trembling as you sobbed quietly into the suit jacket he’d laid over your shoulders.

You barely remember anything about the flight from New York to Louisiana, your mind had shut down, shame consumed you in every possible way.

He led you softly from the jet to the house, the light drizzle in the air clung to your body. He didn’t knock, just unlocked the door and pushed you over the threshold in the most gentle way.

His sister descended down the stairs with a basket of clothes in her hands. You could feel her eyes on you, scanning over the crumpled red dress hanging on your body, you ruined hair and make up, no shoes on your feet.

You were an absolute mess and you knew it.

You kept your eyes glued to the floor, you thought if you looked her in the eyes she’d know the ugly truth, about all the horrible things you’d done in your life and kick you out.

You couldn’t bear to see another person look at you the way that Steve had in the lab.

She and Sam remained silent for the longest time, sharing a wordless conversation between their brown eyes.

“Your room is already made up for next week.” She uttered softly, stepping out of the way and Sam led you upstairs. You muttered a soft, broken thank you as you passed her by.

You showered and changed into some of the comfy clothes you’d managed to stuff into your bag as you made your escape. You sat down on the bed with a soft huff, the weight of the evening dragging you down.

A few tears slipped from your eyes just as Sam knocked the door and entered the room with a steaming cup of herbal tea.

“Thought you could use something to calm your nerves a little bit, let me know if you’d prefer something stronger, I got a bottle of Louisiana’s best bourbon downstairs too.”

A small laugh escaped your lungs, you managed to muster a small smile for the first time in hours. “This will do, thank you.”

He placed the mug on the bedside table and sat down next to you, the single bed dipped under his weight. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders as tears rolled down your cheeks.

Sam scrambled for a way to distract you. “You know, you’re the first girl that has ever seen this room.”

You looked up at him in disbelief, “you’re lying!”

“Nope. My mom had a strict no girls in the bedroom policy, she was terrified of being a young grandma.”

Your bleary eyes scanned around the room and sighed softly, your heartbeat slowly down, breathing becoming more controlled.

“Well I’m honoured to be the first girl in here, although I’m sure you imagined this moment going a bit differently.” You murmured, bringing the mug of tea to your lips and sipping the hot liquid.

“Not a chance, this is exactly how I imagined it would go.” He flashed you his signature smile as you crawled backwards, resting your back against the wall. The sound of light rain hitting the window seal soothed your sad mind.

“Sarah said you can stay here as long as you need.”

“Thank you.” You whispered, the uncertainty evident in the barely audible words.

“Look, I know you won’t be planning on sticking around longer than a few days, but just consider staying the week.” He turned to face you, “the people are welcoming and don’t pry into people’s lives. I’ll be back at the end of the week for my nephew’s birthday.”

“I’ll stay for a little while, I promise.” You nodded, too exhausted to think of anything except sleep.

“Good. I gotta get back to New York.”

“I know.” Your lips wobbled, the thought of being left alone now felt like the scariest thing in the world.

Sam noticed the way the change in your demeanour and signalled for you to his open arms. You settled into his arms, head resting on his shoulder as he ran his hands up and down your back softly.

“I know this feels bad right now Buttercup, but you’ve fought off worse than a broken heart. You’re the strongest person I know, you’re gonna get through this.”

You scoffed, smiling at him. “You liar, we work with gods and super soldiers, I’m not the strongest person you know.”

“I know, but it got a smile outta you and that was the real goal.”

“I’ll see you in a week.”

You stayed the week and when he came back a month later, you were still there.

On his third visit home, you’d begun helping Sarah with the seafood business. You enjoy having a routine again and it was the only way you could help out as she refused to take a penny from you to pay the bills.

After five months you’d begun renting a small place near the docks from Miss Loretta, the town’s matriarch. The house wasn’t anything special, it was a quaint one bedroom house that was in need of some love, but you were given free reign to fix it up and decorate it any way you liked.

You’d begun creating a life yourself, Sarah introduced you to her friend, who in turn became your friends. You loved working on the docks, the hustle and bustle was similar to New York. You’d even started looking after AJ and Cass when Sarah needed a break, not that she’d ever admit she needed it.

It took you nearly a year before you started to work through everything that had happened in New York. The real difference between your life in Delacroux was how much time you spent alone. You could only ignore the issues you’d pushed down for a short time before they forced themselves back up.

You shed so many tears that you could have flooded downstairs. You ruined the furniture that you'd bought for your new house in a fit of anger. You laughed hysterically at how ridiculous everything had become.

You went through every emotion until you were empty, until it finally started to feel better.

And one day, you sat down to write three letters that would never been seen by anyone other than you.

You wrote one for Steve, apologising for leading him on and for what he’d witnessed the night of the party.

You wrote your second letter to Bucky’s girlfriend apologising for the hurt you’d caused her, for taking Bucky away from her and ruining their relationship. For hating her for having him first and still sleeping with him.

The third and final letter you wrote was for Bucky and it was by far the hardest. You poured your heart out onto pages of blank pieces of paper, freeing yourself from all of the hurt you both caused.

It was the hardest thing you’d done, but it allowed you to move on and let go. With every passing day since you wrote the letter you missed him less and less.

You knew you’d always love him, but you weren’t going to allow him and your relationship to hold you back anymore.

You’d been so lost in your own thoughts, you didn’t notice Steve making his way over to you until he was standing in front of you, smiling down at you.

“Hey, stranger, you weren’t going to come and wish me a Happy Birthday?” He embraced you as though no time had passed, not a single drop of bad blood spilled between you.

“Hi Steve.” You uttered, wrapping your arms around his waist tentatively. “I was just knocking back some liquid courage before I braved it.”

“You don’t need to do that with me, Sweetheart. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

You smiled up at him, staring at him curiously but you didn’t comment on it, moving the conversation on. “I have a little present for you inside.”

“Yeah?”

“Hmm… It’s a tub of old man Wither’s barbecue seasoning, Sam mentioned you loved it.”

“Best present ever.”

A wave of silence washed over the two of you and you cringed looking away from him as the air soured with awkwardness. The elephant in the room stomped its foot loudly against the mud.

“I’m sorry.” You blurted out, wincing as the words left your lips.

“You haven’t got anything to apologise for.” Steve held his hand up to stop you from continuing. “Don’t get me wrong, that night was rough, but it opened my eyes to a lot of things. I spent months projecting my feelings onto you and I think deep down I knew you didn’t feel that way about me.”

“I’m sorry, Steve.” You said again but he shook his head at you.

“Nothing to apologise for, remember, I was in the wrong too, although I have to say I was surprised.”

“It wasn’t the way I intended for that night to go.”

“You or anyone else, I think.” He motioned his head turning in Bucky’s direction. “Everyone misses you, but I have to say Louisiana does look good on you.”

You sighed contently, looking over the plains of water sitting perfectly still as the remains of the sunlight sparkled off the lake. “It’s the most at home I’ve ever felt in my life. I really worked through so much out here in the peace and quiet.”

“Yeah I spent a week out here a few years back and there’s nothing like it. This little town is special.”

“Hmmm. I miss you all too, you know.” you smiled wistfully. “I needed time but I think, I mean I want to come back, if you’ll have me?”

“You never needed to even ask sweetheart, you’ll always have a place in the team. Whenever you’re ready to return, there’ll be a space for you.”

You casted your eyes over the group as they built a bonfire in the middle of the front garden. Sam had started up the barbeque on the front porch as Sarah carried out food from the kitchen.

Everyone was preoccupied setting things up, except for Bucky who was chasing Cass around the bonfire, whilst AJ clung to his back, urging him after his brother.

The whole scene brought a smile to your face, as AJ called your name and waved at you, his other hand firmly choking Bucky’s neck as he held on for dear life. You waved back at him, your eyes tentatively connecting with Bucky’s before you both looked away.

“You gonna talk to him?” Steve pulled you back into the conversation, staring down you with a knowing smile on his face.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“You know when you’re back in New York he’s gonna be there.”

“I know, but I’m just not sure I’m ready to open that can of worms just yet, I’ve worked so hard to get to a place where I’m happy.”

“So has he, he’s worked for the last two years to better himself, he’s a different person now.”

You remained quiet as Steve studied your face, as you chanced another glance in Bucky’s direction. “All that time apart, all the work you’ve done and you’re still head over heels for one another.”

“How could you know that Steve, we’ve not spoken in two years.”

“Don’t try to deny this, Sweetheart.”

“I’m not denying anything.” He offered a pointed look, smirk resting irritatingly on his lips. “Okay I was trying to deny it, but so much has happened, most of it bad. How could we ever move past that?”

“How will you ever know if you can move past it, if you don’t try?” He asked, allowing the question to wash over you before continuing.

“You and Bucky share a deep bond, one that would take a lifetime to move on from. I know what I’m talking about okay.” Steve looked you dead in the eyes, no signs of jest. “Yes that love might burn bright and so intensely, sometimes that means it can’t work out, but there’s a reason you’ve always found a way back to one another, I don’t think you should ignore that.”

“He really told you everything, huh?”

“The whole story.”

You nodded slowly, eyes catching him lying flat in the grass, heavy breaths passing his breath as AJ continued to climb over him.

Sam called everyone over for the first round of food, pulling your gaze from him and you peered up at Steve’s frame and pulled him into another hug, this one significantly less awkward than the last one.

“Thank you, now let’s go celebrate your birthday.”

The conversation you’d shared with Steve stuck with you all evening. It was there as you pushed yourself into the eye of the storm and caught up with everyone.

It was there when you were eating your food and even when you drank a few beers. It sat on your shoulder and whispered the words into your ear over and over.

You hadn’t approached him yet and he never attempted to make the first move. You were terrified if you stepped over the invisible barrier between you, he’d run away and you’d never see him again. You weren’t aware he was feeling the exact same way.

By nine, everyone had split off into their own little groups around the campfire, you were sandwiched between Sam and Wanda, snuggled up under a blanket as you chomped down on an oozing smore.

Bucky sat opposite you with Steve and Natasha, the orange hue of the crackling fire illuminated his soft blue eyes.

Despite the distractions that your friends bought you both, you and Bucky kept exchanging vague glances.

You’ve noticed the change in him, he was open with everyone, chatting and smiling. Steve’s words swirled round in your brain, over and over pushing you to take the plunge and forcing you to think of the last time you’d spoken.

The week that Sam had left you alone with Sarah was one of the worst weeks you’d ever experienced. You hadn’t realised how difficult it would be to mend your broken heart until Sam had left you.

It was a week of sleepless nights, you barely left Sam’s room except to use the bathroom. Sarah silently accepted that you weren’t ready to leave the room and join the three of them for food, so each morning and evening she deposited some food outside the door for you.

By Saturday, you were going stir crazy sitting in the same four walls and you forced yourself into the shower. You changed into a fresh set of clothes and ventured downstairs for the first time since the day you’d arrived.

Sam met you at the bottom of the staircase, a gentle smile adorning his lips. “Good to see you up and about.”

“Just about.” You croaked, offering him a sad smile in return.

They didn’t expect you to join them for the party so you wandered in the woods around the house. You didn’t want to get in their way.

The peaceful sound of Delacroux wrapped around you comfortably, it was a stark contrast to the loud, angry hum of New York city.

Your peaceful walk was interrupted, the sound of a twig snapping under feet closing in on you. You whipped around, heart racing as you scanned the area. You half expected it to be Sam, calling you back to the house, but it wasn't him.

Bucky emerged from behind a tall tree, hands up, waving his white flag before you as his swollen red eyes pleaded for forgiveness

“What are you doing here?” You asked, hating the way your voice cracked as you spoke, the lump in your throat rose, tears glistened in your eyes.

He didn’t answer, looking at you as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. Tentatively he took a few steps towards you, but you followed suit and stepped further away.

“How did you find me?” You pleaded, tears slipped down your cheeks.

He hung his head sullenly, “Sam has taken two trips to this place in the last week, I had a feeling as there were no missing jets that he helped you hide. I slipped onto the jet when he wasn’t looking.”

“Why?”

“Because I needed to see you, needed to hear your voice, to convince you to come home.”

“I can’t come back, Bucky.”

“Yes you can and you will.”

“Don’t you need to rush back to your girlfriend.”

“It’s over, for real. I ended it that night and I know I was a coward. I should've ended it sooner. You’re the one for me, you’ve always been it for me.”

You shook your head at him. “No, it's too late. You should’ve done this months ago. It’s too late…”

“No it’s not, you can’t leave us behind.” He strutted towards you, desperate to feel you close to him.

“Us?”

“Alpine has been staying in my room since you left.” He grabbed ahold of your hand. “We need you.”

His words tugged on your heartstrings, his overwhelmingly familiar scent flooded your nostrils as you inched closer to him. You’d been so desperate to feel him for days and now he was stood in front of you, offering everything you’d ever asked of him.

“Please baby, I’m here and I love you.” He whispered as he wrapped his hand around your waist, his metal fingers stroked your cheek, wiping away the stray tears that rolled down your cheeks.

Your eyes fluttered shut, soft stuttered breaths fell from your lips as he continued his pleas. He begged you to give yourself over to him, but you’d already done that years ago.

He leant in close, his lips grazing yours as his nose bumped into yours. You lost yourself all over again, allowing Bucky to consume every part of you as you chased his lips hungrily.

His lips moved against yours, needily exploring your mouth with his tongue as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer.

His fingertips trailed under your shirt, pushing the fabric up and feeling your soft skin against his. He backed you up against the nearest tree trunk, your body thudded against the wood.

The accidental hit you took to your was the wake up call that pulled you from the depths of pleasure. Your heart screamed at you to keep kissing him, your head told you to stop.

You listened to your head and pushed Bucky away from you. “No! This has to stop, it’s not fair. I can’t think clearly when you’re near me.” You cried at him, watching the shock travel over his face.

He opened his mouth to speak but you got there first. “Look, thank you for looking after Alpine. I really appreciate it, but right now I can’t be near you.”

“But-”

“No Bucky! You need to go home, I need to stay here. I need a life that’s not dictated and consumed by thoughts of you, I need to know who I am.”

‘If we ever have a chance of being around each other in the future then I need to move on without you clouding my vision.

‘Neither of us know who we are outside of this toxic relationship, if you can even call it that. It’s why we keep coming back to one another because we don’t know anything different and we keep hurting people. I can’t handle that anymore, it’s killing me.”

Bucky remained silent. He knew you were right, even though he didn’t want to admit it, because he didn't want to give you up.

“Okay, you’re right.” He sighed, closing the gap between you for the final time and wrapping you up in his arms. You hugged him back, knowing it could be for the last time. You knew he’d actually heard you.

“I’ll always love you, please never forget that.” You muttered as you slipped from his strong hold and back towards the house, leaving him behind once again.

He knew you meant what you said, he knew because he would always love you too.

You knew he’d been working on himself just like you had. You could see it and you were so proud of him, just as you were of yourself.

Fireworks erupted over the lake, pulling everyone over to watch them. The whole team filtered over there, except for you. You remained sitting for another moment, watching as Bucky wandered over to the loud display.

He stood tentatively at the edge of the group, keeping as much distance between him and the fireworks. You knew he hated them.

You pulled yourself up, releasing a shaky breath as you made your way over to the group, sneaking up beside him.

“So how’s my cat doing?” You asked softly between two sets of fizzing noises shooting up into the air and erupting into bright pink and blue sparks.

His eyes seemed relieved to find you beside him, easing his tension as he felt the gun shots in his body from every firework that went off.

He smiled at you, “good, probably scaling some building in Brooklyn right now as we speak even though all my windows are locked.”

You laughed loudly, smiling widely at the thought of your cat. “Yeah, Alpine doesn’t really care for locks.”

“Don’t I know it. I just can’t work out how he gets past them.”

“I think it’s easier if you don’t worry about why, you’ll just end up with a headache.”

Bucky could barely hear the fireworks with you stood beside him, he was grateful for the distraction.

You watched him curiously, admiring the immediate changes you could see in him. Two years ago, Bucky would never have considered having an animal near him, now he was raving about your fluffy white cat.

You realised you’d been staring at one another for far too long and cleared your throat. “You wanna go for a walk, get away from the fireworks.” You asked, happy when he nodded and moved down the path towards the woods.

You walked quietly beside one another as your mind raced, trying to find something to say but no words seemed to fit.

“How’ve you been?” Bucky asked, his fingers lightly brushing over yours as his arm swung by his side.

“Good, you?”

“Yeah, good.”

Everything went silent again, the low crack and whizz of the distant fireworks filling the air with tension. You were both terrified to speak again, to burst the friendly bubble.

“I’m thinking of coming back to New York.”

“I’m thinking of getting away from New York for a while.” Bucky said, as you spoke at the same time. “Wait, you’re thinking of coming back?”

“Yeah,” You laughed nervously, “and you’re leaving.”

Bucky scoffed, stopping in his tracks to look down at you. “Well, our timing is perfect as always.”

You tentatively took his hand in yours, running your fingertips over the top side of his hand. “Someone told me very recently that there’s a reason we seem to always find a way back to one another.”

He stepped closer to you, lacing his fingers with yours, “and we can’t ignore that kind of love. Yeah, I got the same talk too, actually it’s all I’ve heard for weeks.”

“That doesn’t really surprise me. Steve’s very persistent when he sets his sights on something.”

“Sam too, honestly they’re insufferable sometimes.” You laughed at him.

“Sooooo where do we go from here?”

Bucky studied your face, stepping closer to you. You were so close to one another, hands intertwined as you stared deeply into each other’s eyes. His Adam's apple strained against his throat as he swallowed a breath.

“I’d like to start over, if you’re willing. Do it properly this time, treat you the way you deserve to be treated.” He breathed shakily as the words slipped past his tongue.

“I’d really like that.” You muttered, closing the distance between you as pressed your lips to his gently. His lips felt like heaven, but this time you had no guilt to weigh you down as your lips met.

You pulled back, “So what’s this trip you’re thinking of taking?” You asked as you wandered off further into the woods. Bucky remained planted in the same spot as his fingers traced over his lips still feeling your lips on his.

“Bucky, you alright?” You asked, turning back to look at him.

His eyes met yours, worry filled you for a second as you thought you may have overstepped. You opened your mouth to speak but he held his hand up to stop you.

“One second.” He uttered, closing the distance between you. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling your body into his and crushed his lips onto yours.

One taste of you had left him a starving man, it was like you’d awoken him from a deep sleep. He’d fixed himself in every way possible, but his life was still missing you, he needed you.

He smiled when he felt you melt into the kiss, moving your lips against his. You clutched his t-shirt between your fingers keeping him close to you. When he pulled away from you, you breathed heavily, smiling at one another.

“I’m not going anywhere without you, baby.” He uttered as he reconnected your lips once again.

Fin.

Tags: @ramp-it-up @delaber @elemenhoepe @theselilwonders @nikole-witha-k @harrysthiccthighss @beminetokeep @leyannrae @lovely-geek @rivers-rambles21 @vicmc624 @wintersplum17 @sydneylaufeyson22 @call-me-doll-face @spaaceprincesss @maladaptivexxdaydreaming @c1nnam0n-g4rl @anth0ny-stark @itsdawnashlie @mkirk12776 @scxrletrecmarvel @tsofo26 @the-dragonsqueen @snugglingbucky @anxiousgirlsarehotter @vanillanaps @ysmmsy @misz-adrii @cjand10 @shezataurus13 @angstysebfan @connie326 @krissy25 @marvelouslyme96 @lethallyprotected

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #james bucky buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #marvel fan fiction #marvel avengers #summerofsnowflakesfic #wicked games

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sexybabystevie · 2 years

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Hi! I'm rather new to your channel because I saw your Steve x sarcastic reader HCs and I absolutely LOVED them they were so, so good and you're extremely talented at making HCs and I wanted to add my own into the mix as well.

Rose 🌹 – Red roses symbolize romance, love, and courage. Send me a short description of yourself, including things you enjoy doing, and your desired character to receive a headcanon on how they would confess their feelings to you!

My desired character is going to be a little bit tricky because I have two ST loves of my life but because you just did a Steve one I think I'm going to pick Eddie.

So hi! I'm a little bit more of a socially awkward type, I tend to be really introverted but once you get to know me I'm insanely sunshine-y and happy. I tend to really love reading books especially Stephen King or fantasy novels, Lord Of The Rings has been a huge part of my life since I was in middle school and my parents finally deemed me old enough to watch the live action films with them. I also am obsessed with film, I love rewatching the same movies over and over again. I love studying film, my parents have this running joke where I can figure out the plot of any show and for the most part be right on the money every single time *they're always like wtf are you magical or something every time it happens*. I'm also utterly in love with musical theater cast albums as well and could probably talk for hours endlessly about my favorite ones. My music taste is a really intense mesh of 80's pop, rock, and metal music as of recently. It was actually due to Eddie that I explored metal music and found affection for it in the first place.

Thank you for listening! I'm looking forward to seeing what you come up with

A/n: Thank you so much for the kind words!! I'm so happy you liked my other headcanons! <3 I have to say that this is the first time I'm writing for Eddie, so I hope that I do his character justice! (And that you enjoy!) And, I’m also so sorry this took so long! You caught me right between the time that I was in the process of moving to and starting college, so things have been pretty hectic since then! Thank you so much for your patience!

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Song of Sunshine

Eddie Munson x Sunshine!Reader

Tags and Warnings: No Warnings, Soft!Eddie Munson, Friends to Lovers, Headcanons, Sunshine!Reader, Implied Love Confessions, Pure Fluff, Dorky!Eddie Munson.

Word Count: 3010

He hadn’t meant to, but Eddie Munson had been eyeing you for a while; you were someone of great mystery to him. He was familiar with almost every face in Hawkins High, having dealt with some of them for far too many excruciatingly long years, and yet yours is one that’s on his mind more often as of late. He’s been scanning the lunchroom on the daily, keeping his eyes out for any new recruits for Hellfire, and something in his gut keeps pointing him in your direction, his gaze always lingering a little longer on you than at any of the others.

If he’s being honest with himself, he’s tired of seeing the same painfully mundane, averagely boring kids each and every day – none of them really having that spark, that potential that he’s been searching for – so he’s almost giddy when he sees you sitting alone at a lunch table, nose buried between the pages of The Lord of the Rings. Instantly his mind is ringing, thoughts scattering because he feels like you’re a light at the end of the tunnel – someone with the kind of creativity and interests that would fit in perfectly with Hellfire – and as much as he wants to rush up to you to ask if you’ll join his club, he’s still a little hesitant. There’s an almost shy nature about you, bashful and timid like a wild bunny, and while he finds it endearing, he also is aware enough that he shouldn't startle you and disrupt your peace.

So, instead, he waits. He waits for probably too long, because it’s been about a week and you’ve moved on from The Lord of the Rings and are now reading Stephen King’s Pet Sematary. He thinks it’s certainly an interesting choice – despite his somewhat intimidating style of dress, he certainly isn’t one that handles horror easily. Especially horror novels; he only half paid any attention to a short story that one of his teachers read aloud in one of his many English classes, and he was so disturbed that he nearly didn’t sleep for days afterward. Hell, he can’t lie, there have been D&D sessions that he’s been to that he’s nearly pissed his pants over. To say that his imagination is overactive – so active that reading anything remotely grotesque has him shuddering and feeling nauseous – would be an understatement. Movies, he can somewhat handle, what’s shown on screen is tame compared to what he could conjure with his mind, but anything even mildly scary in book form is a no-go.

That’s part of the reason that he stalls again, face scrunched up in thought as he look intently at you. Something about you has him feeling sheepish; all he can seem to do is marvel and wonder about you from afar. He knows the younger members of Hellfire – Mike, Lucas, and Dustin – have noticed his thoughtfully awkward glances, meaning his time before they undeniably make some witty comments is running thin. He knows he needs to say something before someone catches him staring and wrongfully assumes he’s being a creep like half of the guys in Hawkins High tend to be, but he feels frozen in time, a wistful statue caught in a moment of hesitance.

He’s so preoccupied with his thoughts that he barely registers the bell ringing and the horde of students that meander along to their next class. He’s not fully aware of his surroundings as he stands and takes his plastic tray over to the garbage can, and he’s definitely not on planet Earth as he accidentally steps on the back of his own shoe, sending him pummeling right into the back of someone who seems oddly familiar. Someone who he thinks he should be able to instantly recognize, someone whose mere outline is something he should have engrained into his mind, and all too quickly they’re turning their head and he gets a glimpse of the cover art for Pet Sematary and – oh, shit. It’s you.

This isn’t how he expected to introduce himself to you, with his hands grasping at your shoulders and his face inches away from the back of your neck as he tries not to tumble the two of you into the disgusting cafeteria floor, and he feels both like laughing and cursing himself for his inattentiveness. At the sight of you, however – wide, nervous eyes and bashful smile – Eddie’s completely drawing a blank. You’re looking at him with polite inquisition, questioning and uncertain but in a gentle manner, and he can’t even begin to imagine what’s on your mind. He has a reputation that precedes him; school-proclaimed ‘Freak,’ a thought that almost has him cringing. Normally, when he’s in his element – talking with his friends, managing the Hellfire Club, playing D&D – he doesn’t care less about what some pretentious teenagers think of him, but right now, he can’t deny the rush of anxiety that hits him like a wave on the beach. He’s been thinking of this moment for days, of how to talk to you so that you think he’s cool, and messing it up feels close to that same kind of humiliation that he vowed to throw away when kids relentlessly teased him for being different in the early years of middle school.

Still, he trusts you and your awesome and somewhat intimidating taste in novels, and he must really be caught on the idea of that because he’s suddenly blurting out, “I wouldn’t have ever pinned you as the type for horror.”

He immediately feels regret – who is he to try and say something about your personality? He’s barely been aware of your existence prior to this week and God, he feels really stupid, until your soft voice breaks through to him.

“And you’re not?” It’s quiet in the chaos of the lunchroom, shrouded in shyness but also holds hints of something else, something more familiar. Something he’s used to hearing from his friends, that’s kind and a little playful, and then he realizes that you’re not only trying to make friendly conversation – you’re giving him a chance! – but you’re also attempting a little joke. Albeit, it is a tad awkward with the tone you’re using, but he doesn’t mind at all. He actually thinks it’s quite cute, although he doesn’t spend too much time reeling on that thought.

“Definitely not,” he says, and he finds himself shocked as how easily he’s telling the truth. Most people he knows would have lied, either to have more of something to relate to or to create a false sense of self, but he doesn’t feel the need to. There’s a kindness, a curiosity in your eyes that has him wondering if you’ve been stealing glances at him for days like he has. “I’m more of the adventure-fantasy type guy.”

The words have barely fell from his lips and you’ve already got a low-burning fire behind your eyes, the excitement that he previously saw secondhand now coming forward. He smiles softly to himself; the spark.

“Really?” you ask, voice a little louder, more incredulous. The rays of passion peek behind the clouds of your timidity, and it’s obvious that you find it hard to bite back an agape expression.

“Yeah!” Eddie exclaims, as if his answer is the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe it is. “The only time I ever really cared enough to show for English class was when we read The Lord of the Rings.”

His words are like gasoline, setting your already simmering demeanor aflame, the former introversion suddenly thrown out the window. Your features are bright, eyes glittering with interest. A bright smile overtakes you, covering you like a thinly veiled blanket, and you look so surprised and enthusiastic that you’re standing on your tip toes, bouncing softly on the pads of your feet. Your exhilaration is highly contagious, worse than the time Hawkins closed down the schools a few years ago because over half of the student population had the flu, and Eddie doesn’t fight the way his mouth automatically widens its grin to match yours. As if he could, anyway.

You trudge back to class together, replying to one another with elevated voices that earn a few annoyed glances from your teachers, and while neither of you are even aware of it in the moment, this is the start of something new, unbidden as a rose petal among the concrete, but not unwelcome. When Eddie finally gathers up his courage and asks you if you’ll tag along at the next Hellfire meeting – as a bystander so you can decide if you want to really join in and start making your character next week during your lunch break – you say yes with a smile sweet as honey, and just like that, your futures have been interwoven.

As Eddie expects, your “tryout,” as the younger children of Hellfire have so intelligently deemed it, goes amazingly. You’re already forming a character and their backstory, spewing intricate details to him as he drives you home. He doesn’t even have to ask if you’re coming to their meeting next Saturday; the gleam in your eyes already answered his silent question the moment that the group continued their game. You hadn’t even had all of the context and you were still watching in awe, shoes excitedly tapping against the floor as you “watched the magic happen,” as Eddie said. He wasn’t wrong; your creative and wandering mind easily was captivated the second that he began recalling where exactly the players had left off last time.

You show to Saturday’s meeting, and the following Saturday’s, and you even go to Mike Wheeler’s dusty basement – which everyone made sure to let you know wasn’t mandatory – to retrieve some old character sheets on an early Monday morning during your autumn break. Even Mike, the kid whose house they were digging through, complained about having to get up to help find his own precious pages, but you hopped right into Eddie’s van without hesitation or resistance, only thing carried with you being a sleepy grin.

Turns out, you make an interesting addition to their group. Your enthusiasm and cheeriness – regardless of the situation – is unmatched, and the contrast between the group before and after you’ve arrived is grand. You always shout out unique suggestions, make references to your favorite novels and movies, and you never fail at being a carrier for glee. One small gasp of excitement from you is all it takes for your energy to bleed through to everyone else; some of the other members, like Mike and occasionally Dustin, feign mock annoyance at how easily everyone is swayed by you, but it never seems genuine. If it ever verges too close to hurtful territory, Eddie shoots them a harsh glare as a warning and they back off, which you always find amusing. You know that, out of the two of you, Eddie’s the least likely to hurt even a caterpillar.

It’s not long before the two of you are spending insane amounts of time together, including outside of school and Hellfire. Sometimes he comes over to your place and you sit outside together, toes in the soft grass as you catch each other up on everything going on in your lives – not that there’s ever that much you have to fill him in on; you’re practically attached at the hip when you can be. Other times you hang out in your living room, rewatching some of your favorite films while raiding your snack cabinet. Some of Eddie’s favorite moments are these; when he’s sitting next you, arm lazily rest upon the back of the couch, close enough to you that you can feel the warmth of his skin without touching, and he can watch you vividly talk about your analysis of specific scenes in the films. Witnessing your raw, glowing passion has his chest swelling with admiration.

On the weekends when conflicting schedules cancel Hellfire meetings – which isn’t often, as being present and an active participant are Eddie’s most valued expectations – you frequent an old, run-down theatre in downtown Hawkins together. The tickets are cheap, there are rarely any other viewers, and the employees there either have a preference for older films or they can’t afford to purchase many from this decade. Regardless, it’s always a good time. With no one else around to tell you to be quiet, you’re giggling at Eddie’s cheesy jokes and making a few of your own.

There’s this one thing you can do – he calls it your “Wicked Movie Vision” – and it blows his mind every time it happens. You have this infallible ability to predict the plotlines, and the outcomes of said plotlines, of any movie you see. You insist that it’s not that difficult, that it’s only a matter of understanding popular tropes and knowing what to look for in the subtext, but it never fails to leave him in gaping awe. He likes to brag about it to the rest of your friend group, and he’s ever-persistent about how cool it is, despite their often lackluster attitudes towards it.

One Friday afternoon, when neither of you had any other plans, Eddie surprisingly called you on on the phone and sounded a bit more nervous than usual. It was barely there, a twinge of awkwardness, but was still noticeable to your observant ears.

“Hey, it’s your favorite leader of Hellfire,” he greets, drawing out the syllables in his first and last words, making you laugh. You neglect to mention that he’s technically the only leader of Hellfire; you let him have his little moments. “So uh, I know you don’t have anything planned tonight since we talked about it yesterday... Do you wanna come over? I can pick you up and we can hang out for a while?”

You have the feeling that he’s holding back some words; something tells you that he has some other reason for inviting you over, but you still smile and nod, verbally expressing your agreement when you realize that you’re not, in fact, currently visible to your friend.

Eddie comes to pick you up as usual, despite you saying that you’re fine with walking the short distance between your houses, and you start to feel a tad bit nervous. You don’t typically visit Eddie’s house often – your place is the usual hangout spot for you two – and you’re a little worried you might do something silly or disrespectful on accident.

Of course, you have nothing to worry about. The two of you talk excitedly in the car just like usual, and Eddie admits that he wants to show you something that he wrote for his band. You’ve been to a few Corroded Coffin practices, forever cheering him on in the audience, and it’s actually due to him that your music taste started developing more towards the kinds of songs that he likes and creates. You’ve never said it outright, but you enjoy the music a lot more just because it reminds you so much of him.

When you walk into Eddie’s trailer and take a tentative seat on an extra chair, watching as he leaves the room and mutters on about something to do with his guitar, you can’t help but notice that the smidge of tension from before is back. You’re starting to wonder if something may be wrong, but you don’t have much time to reel on it before he’s returning with his beloved instrument.

“You ready?” he asks, ghost of anxiety within his upturned smirk. You nod, and his fingers begin to strum at his guitar strings.

The melody starts out a little slow, almost tentative, but then it picks up and you can tell that’s where a beat drop from the drums would typically be. Everything shifts, and the tempo speeds up and becomes more intense. He’s closing his eyes as he plays, feet tapping and head bobbing, and you can tell that he’s really put his heart and soul into this song.

It’s over almost too quickly, leaving you wishing that you could somehow have a mixtape made of only that song repeated so that you could listen to it forever, and your closest friend is looking to you, silently waiting for your reaction. The hesitancy in his eyes fades away when you beam at him and go on and on about how much you loved it, recalling specific moments that really struck you as your favorite, and, as it’s sure to do, your admiration and eagerness pass unto him.

He’s so touched, so utterly appreciative and happy that you liked it so much, that he doesn’t stop himself from admitting, “I wrote it when I was thinking about you.”

You’re stunned into silence, never having expected that such a masterpiece was written in your honor. Quite truthfully, no one else had ever done something so intimate for you before, and that certainly didn’t help with your overwhelmed quietude. You’re caught up in your thoughts, wondering exactly what he means by that because you certainly know what it sounds like, and the soft blush across his cheekbones seems to answer your question for itself.

You subconsciously scoot closer to him, knee softly knocking against his, and your hand reaches out to rest upon his forearm almost on its own accord. His arm is warm against your palm, shirt atop his skin soft and thin, and his eyes shoot over to yours in pleasant surprise.

“Will you play it for me again?” you ask, toothy smile gleaming up at him, and who is he to deny you? Truthfully, he couldn’t say no to you even if he wanted to.

With a goofy, almost timid smile, and an almost whispering of “’Course I will,” Eddie Munson’s fingers pluck the first few notes of the song that he wrote as he was falling in love with you.

#the garden🌷#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #stranger things 4 #stranger things

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jallieae · 2 years

Text

lead me through frigid waters

where olive gets an unwelcome demonstration of how tommy’s coach used to treat him—and does something about it

“It’s true then,” a curling voice murmurs, and Olive freezes in place to listen before they’re even aware that their feet are stopping. “You’ve been replaced.”

Instantly, Olive’s skin prickles with discomfort. The voice is eerie and dangerous, like jagged thorns and slick oil, and verging on familiar—so familiar that they can’t help but do anything except stop, and then—

“What?” croaks Tommy—Tommy—sounding painfully quiet.

ice!cobbleduo ficlet || 3.6k words

— ❅ —

Olive waits ten minutes before their patience runs dry.

It’s not that they aren’t patient—they are. Just… not when it comes to being worried. And Olive is worried.

Tommy was supposed to be here by now, and if there’s anything they’ve learned about Tommy—and they’ve learned a lot over these past few weeks—it’s that he’s never late. Never. Well, except for the times that he has been late, but all those times had been for bad reasons.

Reasons like he had a migraine and could barely get out of bed, nevermind hobble over to the rink for practice. He had been cornered on the street by a cluster of nosy reporters, aching to sink their teeth into a vulnerable skater with a tragic past. He’d been sick and tried to hide it, only to fail miserably before his skates touched the ice.

So—never good things.

And Olive, standing with their duffel bag hanging loosely from one hand and their skates from the other, is gradually being overcome by a suspicion that this time is just like the others. As in not good.

The rink is still packed with spectators, visitors from all over who’d come to watch them perform. Tommy would never say anything, but Olive knows that sometimes big groups of people (the ones not obscured by the haze that overcomes him when he performs) can overwhelm him. Olive typically makes a point to plant themself conveniently at his side whenever it’s just the two of them weaving through big crowds, but this time, they couldn’t. And now Tommy’s gone and Olive’s worried and screw it—they’re not waiting anymore.

“I’ll go find him,” Olive volunteers when five more minutes crawl by, and Tommy is nowhere to be found.

Eret hesitates, lips pursed and eyes scrunched with worry as he scans the crowds. Hesitance drips off of him, and Olive can feel it as if it’s tangible. But finally he nods, slow and distracted, and so Olive sets their duffel bag and skates down at his feet.

“Be right back,” they declare, smiling past the anxious skip of their heart before turning on their heel towards the rink. “Promise!”

They’re confident (hoping) that they’ll run into Tommy before they have to do too much looking, because more looking means more possibility for trouble and Olive doesn’t want that. Not for Tommy. Not after how open he’s been lately.

In the end, though, Olive is so consumed by the messy flurry of their thoughts that they almost walk right past Tommy. But they don’t, stopping just in time to catch the whispered conversation—to find Tommy—and then instantly wish they hadn’t.

“It’s true then,” a curling voice murmurs, and Olive freezes in place to listen before they’re even aware that their feet are stopping. “You’ve been replaced.”

“What?” croaks Tommy—Tommy—sounding painfully quiet.

They’re around the corner, secluded from everything else, so Olive can’t see them, but they can hear the man’s scoff, quiet and mocking, plain as day. It sends a chill up their spine that grows vines of dread in their stomach.

“I can’t say I’m surprised, sweetheart,” the man continues—and oh, Tommy’s old coach continues—taunting words colliding into Olive’s eardrums like gunshots. “I warned you, didn’t I? If you weren’t useful—”

“I’m sorry,” comes Tommy’s voice, quick and clumsy, and so unjustly apologetic that Olive is propelled forward, legs moving, mind snapping into itself, “Coach— no, sir, I’m—”

“Tommy?”

Both Tommy and his ex-coach turn when Olive ducks around the corner, smiling pleasantly. Tension lingers at the corner of their eyes, but they think they do a decent job shielding it as they are appraised by two distinctly contrasting expressions: one of a broken sunbeam, pale and watery and creased with fear; and one of a dangerous snake, cold and poisonous and damn-near predacious.

Olive’s smile doesn’t waver in the face of the grimace that affronts them. All they can see is Tommy, eyes wide and panicked, shoulders down and trembling hands pressed together, as if to ease the shake. Olive is suddenly taken back to that very first practice with him, and they, with a wash of nausea, don’t like it one bit.

“There you are,” Olive continues, the corners of their mouth threatening to curve into a frown. “Are you okay? Eret’s worried, and I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

It’s a lie, because this is the first and last place that they looked, but they hope Tommy gets it. We’re worried. You’re wanted. You’re not alone. Please come with me if you feel safe.

Tommy, meeting their eyes with a shaky sort of desperation, looks like he tries to answer. But he doesn’t get far, because his ex-coach steps forward, and Olive sucks in a sharp breath when his hand curls around Tommy’s wrist, tugging him towards his side. Tommy blinks, stumbling towards his coach without resistance but looking like he can’t believe that his legs are moving.

“Excuse me,” his ex-coach interrupts flatly, skimming Olive over. “But my athlete and I—”

“He’s not yours,” Olive interjects instantly, and even Olive is surprised by the hostility lacing their tone, turning every word into steel.

Tommy’s ex-coach is even more so, reeling back. “Excuse me?”

Tommy has gone from panicked, to full-fledged terrified. Balling their fists deliberating at their side to quell the rising mess of emotion welling in their chest, Olive takes a deep breath and stomps right through Tommy’s terror to get to him. They have to.

“He’s not yours,” they repeat evenly, ignoring the holes Tommy is boring into the side of their face with his horrified gaze. “He’s my friend.”

Shoulders heaving just a bit, the coach takes an indignant step forward—dragging Tommy with him, who gasps as his wrist is jerked. Olive’s heart pounds in their chest.

“I’m his coach,” the man lies, lies, eyes like two embers, attempting to flatten Olive where they stand, and—

“Are you?” Olive accuses, blood heating impotently because he’s lying. He’s lying right to their face, and they can hear Tommy’s breath begin to pick up a dangerous rattle as he does it, and they can see him wince at the grip on his wrist because his coach is squeezing it too hard, is hurting him, and Olive won’t let him continue. They won’t. “Because last time I checked, Eret was our coach.”

Olive watches the realisation settle over the coach’s prim features in high definition. The realisation that Olive isn’t just Tommy’s friend, but his skating partner. They can’t deny the hot flash of satisfaction that shoots through their chest when the coach falters, poise cracking. He clenches his jaw, nostrils flaring, and Olive tilts their chin up, acting braver than they feel.

“I know who you are,” Olive tells him, eyes blazing. “Now let him go and leave before I call security.”

There’s a tense, suspended moment where they’re not sure that the coach will listen. Olive’s lungs remain swollen, fear starting to creep through their bloodstream, because they don’t know what they’ll do if Tommy’s ex-coach doesn’t listen. Well, besides scream maybe (probably) and at the very least get Tommy away. But it doesn’t come down to the what-ifs, because Tommy’s ex-coach scoffs, lips twisting into a snarl.

He flings away Tommy’s wrist carelessly before shouldering past both of them—nearly checking Olive’s shoulder as he goes. And oh, Olive is totally having Eret call security anyway the minute they’re back, but for now, all they can focus on is the hollowness circling Tommy’s irises and the mounting shakiness of his breathing.

When the coach leaves, Tommy seems barely able to be upright—like he’s forgotten how to balance. Olive’s eyes widen as his arms curl over his stomach, hugging himself tightly as his lungs begin to protest each breath. His eyes are lasered unblinkingly, unseeingly, at the floor in front of his shoes, and Olive recognizes the oncoming asthma-panic attack combo for what it is.

They move quickly, fear finally having a chance to sprout inside of them. It threatens to weave around their lungs, clog their trachea, but they don’t let it stop them from shooting to get to Tommy’s side—managing to get a steady hand around his arm the minute his knees start to buckle.

(Olive almost wishes it wasn’t so familiar by now: Tommy’s attacks. He’d begun to let Olive, and Eret, see a lot more of them—whether intentionally or not—and Olive is beginning to learn the unsteady rhythm of his panic. Even if this is the worst one they’ve seen.)

“I’ve got you,” Olive breathes, getting Tommy down to the floor with minimal struggle. He hardly seems coherent enough to move his limbs, and that’s as relieving as it is frightening. “Come on, breathe, Tommy. I’ve got you.”

They’ve found that reassuring words like that—I’ve got you, you’re safe, I’m here—sometimes work better than just telling him to breathe. Tommy’s lungs know he needs to breathe, but there’s a mental gap there that isn’t always bridged, and Olive is almost as proud as they are saddened by how easily they can step in now to try to patch it up.

Key word: try, because this time, Olive’s words only seem to collide with an invisible, vacant wall that they know has something to do with the haze obscuring Tommy’s eyes, and panic slashes through Olive’s chest. His breathing only becomes even more staccato and ragged, a wheeze more than a gasp. Crap. Heart racing, Olive pats at Tommy’s pockets, and comes up empty. He doesn’t have his inhaler on him. Double crap.

Olive is half a second from drowning in their own panic before they remember—they have an inhaler. A backup one, specifically for Tommy. They’d started carrying it around after one-too-many times of Tommy forgetting his inhaler and having an attack. Now, as they fumble to get it out of their back pocket—eternally grateful they’d slipped it in there after their performance—Olive thinks it’s the best decision they’ve ever made.

“Here,” Olive breathes, voice trembling despite themself. “Come on, just like that— good job, Tommy.”

Something comes to life in Tommy’s eyes, and Olive lets their murmured reassurances pull him back to shore like a steady fishing line, tugging and easing and caring.

Olive’s not sure how much time passes before Tommy’s breath starts to even out, aided by the inhaler. All they know is that it gets better before they have to call another ambulance (a thought which nearly puts their heart out of commission at the reminder.)

Eventually, Tommy pushes their hand away, and Olive shuffles back on their knees—but not too far away since it’s clear that he is barely able to hold the inhaler to trembling lips on his own. They wait patiently, giving him space even as worry chisels tension into every muscle in their body.

Their mind is a globe, spinning and spinning as everything starts to catch up with them.

Olive had met Tommy’s old coach, but they’d scared him away. They’d helped Tommy. Everything was fine. (So why did they feel so shaky still?)

“Thank you,” Tommy croaks, startling Olive back into reality. Tommy’s shoulders are still heaving, and he has the inhaler an inch away from his mouth, fingers curled tightly over it as he whispers endlessly, “Thank you, thank you Olive.”

Olive nods, throat suddenly a little too tight to get a word out, and that has Tommy’s eyes somewhat clearing in an instant, tracing worriedly over them. He lowers his inhaler, guilt and concern battling for space on his expression.

“Are you okay?” he rasps, and Olive nods quickly.

Maybe too quickly, because Tommy’s worry only seems to compound, and Olive clears their throat.

“I was worried for you,” Olive admits quietly, fingers digging into the thighs of their pants. They clear their throat again, eyes scraping over Tommy’s still-shaking form. His ex-coach’s words infest their brain like sticky tar, clinging and clinging. “That was… pretty bad.”

Tommy’s eyes flash with something infinitely pained, and miserable. “I thought I was alone. With… him.” His eyes flicker up again, just slightly calmer. “But you saved me.”

Olive nods, tongue clumsy as they fight for control of their brain again. “He was being a jerk.”

Tommy blinks, and then his lips twitch. It’s a gross understatement, and maybe that’s why he manages a faint smile.

“He was,” Tommy agrees, almost a whisper. Then, laughing brokenly, “You can be scary, you know that?”

Olive instantly recognizes that he means it as a compliment, and grins, fast and fierce and mostly genuine.

“Only because of you,” Olive croaks, lips twitching to the side. “Besides, he deserved it. He shouldn’t say mean things to my friend.”

On cue, the “mean things” race through their head. Replaceable. Not useful. Sweetheart. Things that make their heart beat too quickly, and their head feel strangely light.

Olive shivers, wishing they could cast the words out of their mind, banish them from existence—and maybe banish them from Tommy’s too, for good measure. But they don’t have a chance to linger on it, because Tommy is suddenly jerking his head up, eyes wide and painfully open.

“So… you meant it then?” he hedges quietly. Olive frowns—meant what? But Tommy cuts over their thoughts. “That we were… friends, and all that.”

Now, Olive truly frowns, confusion furrowing between their brow. “Of course I did. I thought you knew that.”

Tommy’s eyes widen, and he straightens. “I did! I did, I swear I just… I was making sure.”

He sounds panicked again, and Olive almost panics because he’s panicking again, but they don’t, because they get it.

“It’s okay,” Olive tells him, eyeing him worriedly. Quiet falls, a shade too awkwardly for Olive’s comfort. So they try another route, latching onto the faint threads of humor extended between them and pulling. “In fact, I’d almost say we are best friends, Tommy.”

When Tommy looks at them, tilting his head as their words land over him, Olive continues. They haven’t met the SMP hockey team that Tommy speaks so fondly about, but they know a lot about them. And maybe a familiar name might pull Tommy back down to Earth with them.

Olive sighs, playful to mask the lingering anxiety. “I know you said you liked that Wilbur guy, but I feel like I could be a strong contender for best—”

Tommy coughs, and Olive nearly scrambles forward to steady him as Tommy’s eyes widen.

“Wilbur!” he bursts out, breathing hard. “I’m— we have to go, don’t we? To see them? They’re coming to meet us, right?” He exhales heavily, glancing around, and Olive is alarmed just watching him. They don’t like the way he latches onto this easier than his want to make sure he’s okay. “Eret’s going to be so mad that I—”

“Hold on,” Olive interjects quickly, laying a tentative hand on Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy looks at them, eyes wide and— oh. They can tell that he’s not quite as there as they’d assumed. Either that, or he is falling back into that absent hollowness. “I can text Eret to meet us. You can’t—”

Olive cuts themself off, suddenly overcome with emotion. Tommy freezes, watching them with his knees curled up towards his chest, and Olive has to wrangle their next breath down their throat.

“We can’t just brush past that, Tommy,” Olive whispers, and Tommy shakes, throat bobbing as he meets their eyes. “I’m calling Eret to make sure you’re okay and that your old coach—”

“It’s fine,” Tommy whispers immediately, looking away. Something in Olive’s chest clenches. “I can breathe, it’s not—”

Olive is flooded with a nasty cocktail of disbelief and horror. “It’s not about that—about breathing! It’s never about just being able to breathe. You have to be okay, too.”

When Olive finishes, breathing hard, Tommy just looks at them. There is something horribly fractured and dead in his eyes. It looks like a tombstone, and feels like a burial plot. Resolute and rotted and sinking into the ground.

“I don’t… Olive, I don’t know how to do that.”

Olive’s breath hitches. “I—”

They cut themselves off, because what do they say? You can’t put broken things together and expect the fracture lines to realign the same way as before. It’s not— it’s not impossible. How can they possibly expect Tommy to even know what okay means?

“Please just wait,” is what Olive eventually settles on, because it’s all they can say. “Please be careful with yourself, Tommy. Please.”

Tommy just looks at them, and Olive can see him swallow down that dead-eyed look, and it almost makes them nauseous, but then, a delicate hand lands on top of her own, and Olive freezes, eyes flickering up.

“Okay,” Tommy whispers, chin wavering. But his eyes are genuine, and wide, and rimmed with red but more or less lucid. “I can— I can try. To be okay.” He swallows, hesitating. “Is that…”

Olive’s chest cracks, like a skate skipping across a frozen lake, spraying ice. They grip his hand, squeezing tightly.

“That’s perfect, Tommy.”

Tommy smiles, barely a movement but a smile all the same. Olive mimics it, even though the muscles in their face feel so tired. They almost want to collapse, right in the little side-room, but instead, they shuffle over to Tommy’s side.

Olive feels Tommy looking at them but all they do is lean their head on his shoulder and sigh. Tommy tenses, just for a moment—just long enough for Olive to consider pulling back—but then he relaxes, and Olive relaxes all over again with him.

They wonder if this is the harmony Eret was talking about them needing to find during their routines—the balance between the two of them, pushing and pulling in equal measure. It feels like it.

It only takes another minute for Olive’s text message to send, and for Eret to see it.

“He’s coming,” Olive remarks, feeling more than seeing Tommy’s minute flinch against them. They can tell that he’s worried about Eret being upset, and try to assuage him. “And I think he’s calling— wait.”

They cut off, realising something in an instant, mind rewinding. Tommy reels back in visible confusion as Olive jerks upright, looking at him with wide eyes. They can’t deny the flare of accusation burning through them.

“How did you know that we were meeting the team?” Olive demands, because it’s supposed to be a secret, a surprise, but Tommy had mentioned earlier like it wasn’t. “That’s not fair.”

Tommy snorts, light and quiet. “Sapnap accidentally sent me a picture from the airport this morning without realising. It’s too late.”

Olive groans, spilling their weight right back onto Tommy’s side. “Well, there goes my one job.”

Tommy snorts, nudging them with his shoulder. “That’s not your fault. I’m still glad I get to see them.” Then, clearing his throat, “But… thank you.”

Olive frowns, looking at him. “For what? I just said I—”

“Not for that,” Tommy interrupts, and Olive freezes. He swallows, shoulders coming up a bit. “For helping me. I don’t— I don’t know what I would’ve done if you didn’t show up.”

Olive’s heart does a quad lutz in their chest.

Because maybe Tommy doesn’t know what he would’ve done, but Olive’s brain supplies them with some ideas, each worse than the next. Each starting and ending with that terrified look on his face fusing into acceptance, and that grip on his wrist that seemed to render his limbs into clay.

Olive can’t help but get the feeling that they’d pulled Tommy out of some sort of abyss. That they’d climbed into a black hole accidentally and yanked him out of it before he could be pulled apart. It scares them—that they’d done it and that they’d had to do it.

“Well,” Olive begins lightly, “No need to thank me. We’re partners in crime, remember? We help each other out.”

Tommy’s eyes take on a faint shine. “And friends.”

“And friends,” Olive agrees, feeling the tension begin to hemorrhage out of them. “Which also means that I’m going to wait here with you until Eret shows up and you’re going to deal with that.”

Tommy blinks at them, and Olive’s not sure if they’ll ever get used to that stunned little expression he makes when someone is good to him without prompting, but they’ll keep trying to get him used to it.

“I—okay?” he says, and Olive knocks their shoulder against his.

“Glad you agree,” they hum, and then, verging on bashful, “This also means that you have to act surprised when we go to the airport to meet the team. I’ll even buy you an airport pretzel.”

Tommy laughs quietly, and though there is still a shake to it, it’s at least lighter. “Sure.” Then, lips curving, “With cheese, though.”

“With cheese,” Olive agrees, threading their hands together gently and squeezing.

Tommy returns the gesture, a little more delayed than it should be maybe, and he has to take another breath through the inhaler, but at least Olive can feel his heartbeat, strumming beneath their just-barely-steadier fingertips, and know that for now he’s safe. He’s their friend and he’s safe.

And if he’s safe and if Olive was able to help with that, then, well. They can work out the rest later.

— ❅ —

inspired by @honeycowinnit‘s ice au! i once again cannot express how cool it is that you are okay with letting others branch off this au. i had a lot of fun writing ice!cobbleduo they took over my brain.

#tommyinnit #tommyinnit fic #olivesleepy #figure skating AU #angst #fluff #protective!olive #olive and tommy are best friends i decided #tw child abuse

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