#I’ve been here since moments of clarity and I feel so fucking lucky to have been able to see them rise and find their place

[crmsndragonwngss]

Silent wake as the day is burning

Slip back into my silhouette

I don’t know when the trains are running

Get me back home to hide away

#tunes #erra #progressive metalcore #god it’s so fucking good #it’s all the best parts of drift and neon and I’m so fucking here for it #I love that they’re coming back to this sound #drift and neon are my absolute favorite albums so I definitely fuckin dig this #so fuckin stoked for this record #and like cure is all the best parts of ST #and pale iris is like revisiting eye of god #and that’s so fucking cool to see the culmination of all thier growth thus far #and I am SO FUCKING PROUD of Jesse like #his lyricism and his vocals have improved so much over the years #and the music itself has just matured so fucking beautifully #and they’re such a cohesive unit now like their sound is just so tight and put together #I’ve seen a lot of dissatisfaction among fans over these three singles but like #honestly fuck off this is their best stuff to date and I’m not fucking kidding #they have grown and matured and it has been SUCH a privilege to watch that metamorphosis in real time #god I just love them so much #I’ve been here since moments of clarity and I feel so fucking lucky to have been able to see them rise and find their place #Spotify #also the mix is so good???? #that’s been a real challenge for them in previous releases #so it’s really really nice that they’ve finally got a team that can help them shine #and I DIG how bass heavy this track is #giving Conor a chance to show his stuff

[folkloreguk]

French Class [7]

A/N: AAAH I apologize in advance for this part bc I feel like it's kinda messy :/ I hope you still like it though?? Lmk what you think! x

genre: optional bias (m) x reader (f), fwb, f2l?, college!au, fuckboy!bias, nerd!reader, angst, H/N is a jealous and drunk fool :/

words: ~ 3.7 k

✽series masterlist✽

taglist (lmk if u wanna be added!): @lovely-ateez, @runaway-fics, @mainexiii, @awfullytiredbuthealing, @erikyoong, @etherealuv, @yeostars, @staysuki, @justcuz-ican, @hyuckthangs, @teenloves, @mexious18-blog, @sunghoonied, @mailobjaeyoon, @tr-wemoon, @prismwon

couldn’t tag: @chorizoek, @r-eadings

H/N’s POV:

Maybe I’ll come ‘round, your text had said. How did you expect him to enjoy the party if you wouldn’t be there? H/N used to make fun of guys who ran after girls like lap dogs. And yet, over time he had become one of them, if not worse. Every text, every possibility of seeing you had him on the edge of his seat in excitement. There was nothing he cared about more than spending time with you. When at first it had been sexual attraction – an obsession with your body and the way you turned him on with the most subtle words and touches – it had changed into something entirely different. The relentless hunger was now occasional, ever so often interrupted by a dire wish to see you smile. A wish to hold you, and to kiss you out of the blue – something he wasn’t allowed to do if it wasn’t for the two of you hooking up. The stupid agreement you had made was starting to feel like torture instead of heaven. He was lucky his poker face was professional, and he had years of practice in flirting and sounding casual even if his heart was beating up to his neck. There was no other way he could have concealed how infatuated he was with you, otherwise.

“H/N, come help me set up the snacks!” Korain shouted from the kitchen. H/N’s friends were throwing a party at their place, and he had shown up early to assist them in preparing everything. With you on his mind – as always – he trotted into the kitchen where a row of bowls was standing out on the counter.

“Just open and pour the bags into the bowls, will you? I still need to get ready,” Korain said. “Chohee said she might be here a bit earlier, and I don’t want to look like this when she’s going to look amazing.”

Korain gestured to his bed hair he probably hadn’t brushed once since getting up and then tweaked the fabric of his sweatpants and his old, baggy tee. H/N wanted to argue that if Chohee really liked Korain, she wouldn’t mind seeing him this way. H/N, for one, couldn’t care less what you wore tonight. As long as you showed up at all, he would be beaming. Strictly speaking, at times when he got to see you wake up, sleep in your eyes and your clothes in a disarray, it spun his head in ways no little black dress could ever do. When he saw you make breakfast in his kitchen, in his shirt, he could barely contain himself.

His daydreams of you were once naughty and gave him boners at random times of the day – and don’t get me wrong, they still were, sometimes – but it was when the domestic dreams had begun, that he realized he was screwed. He didn’t need anybody to tell him how he felt, nor did he have some crazy moment of clarity. There came a point in his days where he didn’t just notice his non-sexual daydreams of you, he invited them. His brain was imagining things like setting up a shared table for dinner or kissing the back of your hand in the dark of a movie theater or playing you a cheesy song that reminded him of you. He wanted to hold your hands from across the library table and have his arm around your shoulders to show you off to the entire campus. But none of it could be real. It all went against the rules.

“Will Y/N be here too?” Korain asked and pulled H/N out of his daydreams. God, I hope so, he thought.

“She said she might be here,” H/N answered.

“Chohee’s always talking about her. And you. About how she thinks Y/N has a crush on you, but she always denies it, saying you’re just friends. Maybe you could try and bring that up tonight?” Korain said, as if discussing your feelings for someone was as easy at conversing about the weather. “Alright, I really have to go get ready now.”

“I’ve been thinking, I might- “ said H/N, but Korain only pat his shoulder.

“Let’s talk later, at the party, okay?” he said, and walked out the kitchen. I might like her, H/N had been meaning to say. I might like Y/N. No. I’m in love with her. No maybes. He could bet all his money on it, that’s how sure he was. But his friend had disappeared and now it was on him to wait until the party began. Left alone with his thoughts.

Of course, you would deny having a crush on him. Because you probably didn’t, he thought. Wouldn’t you search for a smart guy, someone your mother would approve of, and someone who understood your endless talks of nerdy topics? Although sometimes he had no idea what you were on about, H/N was captivated whenever you gave him a lecture about something you had learned. And when he asked you to explain something one more time, you never hesitated, or judged him for it. Your kindness made his heart swell, and only when the first crowd of party guests arrived did he realize he had spent half an hour daydreaming about you. Again.

With the way he kept the front door in his sight at all times, one could have wondered if he was a highly wanted criminal on the run, afraid the cops could barge in at any moment. Some of the girls who tried to flirt with him even asked him about it, but he wasn’t going to confess he was waiting for the love of his life to walk through that very door. With little conviction he returned their flirting. He hated himself for the thoughts he had. Thinking that should you not arrive, he could console himself by taking one of the other girls home instead. They didn’t deserve to be used like that, but he was bitter and so, so in love with you. It was hard to pay any attention to the other girls at all, no matter how sweet they were being.

Flirting back at them, however, came to him as easily as the words to his favorite songs. It posed no challenge, like it did with you. When he had to try hard to make your cheeks heat up, or to lure out a shy smile instead of your genius, quick-witted remarks. There was nothing more exciting to him than to invent new ways in which he could make you flustered.

Right now, it was his turn to be flustered. Because his ex had approached him and was reciting some of her favorite memories she had of their relationship. “Remember our third date…the one that ended with us squished in that tiny dressing room at Victoria’s Secret?” she asked and blinked at him expectantly. He went along with her words and replied something not too direct, but still enough to make her giggle like a little girl.

It was his own fault she was so intent on talking to him. While you had been on your date with the economy-major-guy, H/N had tried to contact his ex again. In hindsight, he thought it pathetic and extremely stupid at that. Nothing would have come of it, anyway. Not while he felt the way he did about you. So it was only lucky his ex hadn’t been free that night. Then he had gotten dangerously close to drowning his feelings in the vodka in his kitchen. Thankfully he had refrained from this, too, because you had shown up afterwards and you had ended up having mind-blowing sex, and he knew for a fact that had he been drunk, he would have blurted out some crazy sentiments he would have regretted saying in the morning.

Sometimes he tried to signal you his emotions, ever so subtly. Waving off your claims when you called him the campus fuckboy or telling you he wasn’t really hooking up with anyone else besides you, it all was an attempt at making you see what he felt for you. He would tell you that you looked pretty, not just so you would understand he liked you, but simply because it had to be said. When he regarded you fixing your hair in the mirror with a frown, he could barely believe you didn’t know how beautiful you were. And he had gotten closer to you during sex. Whether it was voluntary or an instinct that came with being in love, he wasn’t certain. There was nothing like kissing away your moans while he fucked you into a mattress.

He was about to text you – the urge to see you getting unbearable – but didn’t want to sound clingy when you strut through the door. No slow motion or fan blowing your hair around dramatically would have made you look more perfect. The ridiculous pang he felt in his heart when he saw you hug another guy only reminded him of how whipped he was. He reminded himself that he had no right to be jealous. You weren’t his girlfriend, after all. When you then made eye contact with him and made a beeline for him, he was worried he’d be short of words. He needed to pull himself together.

“Hi,” you said, and your smile was magical enough to stir up the butterflies in H/N’s stomach. You pointed at the empty spot on the sofa between H/N and another guy you didn’t know. “Is this seat taken?”

“No,” the guy said, before H/N had time to speak, and the stranger smiled at you in a way that could only mean he wanted to get to know you. But H/N caught your attention by swiftly putting his arm around your shoulder, making the stranger back up and divert his eyes the other way. He had never meant to be the jealous type. It was just that you were finally here, and he was so happy to see you, he couldn’t bare the thought of you running off again. Only when you gave him a funny look H/N realized he needed to calm down if he didn’t want you to get annoyed.

“So, what did I miss?” you asked.

His ex was approaching from across the room again, and before he could have stopped his mouth, he said the stupidest thing. “Kiss me.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, but he was intent on it. “Please. Kiss me. Quick.”

There was a strange emotion that crept over your face, and you seemed to have no clue why he was so set on it. Nevertheless, you did as he asked. Your mouth tasted of watermelon bubblegum, so sweet, so perfect, and he was flying on cloud nine for the short while it lasted. It wasn’t real, though. The thought stabbed his brain like a dagger. When you pulled apart you were grinning, and his ex wasn’t in the room anymore.

“Care to explain why we just did that?” you asked. “You’re diminishing your chances with the ladies in the room.”

He rolled his eyes. “My ex has been trying to get with me again, and I hoped she’d let off if she saw us kiss. And she did.” Then his eyebrows raised. “What do you mean by my chances with the ladies? I was hoping we could go home together.”

“I can’t tonight,” you said, and he had to fight to keep his face straight. “I’ve got to get back to studying first thing tomorrow morning. I just came here to hang out, for a while.”

“Oh,” was all he could muster without sounding like you were ripping out his heart. It wasn’t even your fault. He would never try and get between you and your studies. But what if he could be there? What if he could be the one staying in bed, watching as you climbed up early to bury your head in books? He’d watch you through tired eyelashes, and you’d ridicule him for being so starry-eyed when looking at you. Later he’d bring you tea or coffee and remind you to take a break to eat. Was it ludicrous to obsess over something so domestic? He didn’t feel guilty for it.

All at once, your laugh pulled him out of his daydream, and into a funny story you told him. Over-consciously, he noted how your arm went around his shoulder lazily. And for a while you sat and talked. Occasionally a flirty remark slipped over your lips, and he would always return it. It was idiotic, but he was already worrying about how much he would miss you once you went home. Perhaps his plan of consoling himself with another girl hadn’t been so bad, after all. Just as he had finished the thought, a familiar face walked by and noticed him. The alcohol in his veins made her seem perfectly inviting as a distraction, for later.

“Oh, hey. Y/N, this is Minji,” he said, pointing at the girl. “Minji, this is Y/N. She’s…just a friend.”

Instantly, you removed your arm from his shoulder. There was hidden pain in your gesture, or was it merely wishful thinking on his side? Minji nodded and greeted you, but you only waved her off with a polite smile.

“I’m going to get a drink from the kitchen,” you announced, and before he could have stopped you, you had walked off. For a while he chatted with Minji, because he had no good reason to run after you that wouldn’t create awkwardness. His patience lasted approximately ten minutes. Luckily, a friend waved at Minji from across the room and she excused herself. Although he would never wish her ill, he was glad she was leaving.

Quickly, he made his way to the kitchen, where he found you talking to a guy. Without thinking, H/N smiled at you as he came up to you and wrapped his arm around your waist. He hadn’t meant to look so intimidating, and he hadn’t meant to be an asshole either. Yet, the guy across from you appeared scared and when you turned your attention to H/N, the guy slowly retracted into another circle of chatting people. Guilt crept in on H/N. He was tipsy, and although he knew his drunkenness wasn’t an excuse, it made him want you so much more. Perhaps it was also insecurity making him act crazy. There was always a glimmer of hope in the back of his mind, that you might just like him back. So long as you hadn’t confirmed the opposite, he would live in constant terror that someone else could steal your attention and make you theirs before he could.

“Come with me,” you muttered in his ear. Your hand was around his wrist, and he had no choice but to trot after you like a child. At first, he thought you were going to take him out the front door, but then you made a turn for the stairs. He didn’t need to be a fuckboy to know what it meant when a girl walked him up the stairs. From one second to the other, his mood changed into gleefulness. Had you changed your mind? The mere thoughts of what could happen upstairs could have given him a boner, had he pondered on them for longer. You said nothing, only driving him more insane by the second. The first open door was good enough for you, so you pulled him inside and closed it behind you. Smirking, he reached for your waist, ready to pull you into a kiss.

“Don’t,” you hissed, and he flinched at your angry tone. He kept his hands to himself, kneading them nervously. Shit. This was the clear opposite of what he had anticipated. The two of you had never fought, and hearing your voice, sounding so deeply upset, scared him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you asked.

“I’m sorry, I thought you wanted to make out- “ he said.

“I don’t mean just now. I mean…what is it you’re trying to achieve by acting all possessive over me in front of random guys? Pretending I belong to you? But the second a pretty girl is in front of you I’m just a friend, aren’t I? What’s that about?”

There was no explaining this, and he knew it. Yet, he would try, pathetically. “I just thought you didn’t want those guys bothering you.”

“I can handle a guy by myself, thank you,” you snapped. “If I needed help, I’d ask. Like you did. Apparently, I’m good enough to be used as an escape from your ex, but when hot Minji came around you wouldn’t even blink when I got up and left.”

“Usedas an escape?” he asked in disbelief. “You didn’t have to kiss me, but you did anyway.”

“That’s because I was trying to be a good fucking friend!” you yelled now, sounding over the music from the party.

“You used me too, don’t you remember?” he countered. “Or did you not show up on my doorstep after your terrible date so I would fuck you and make you feel better?”

You looked taken aback for a moment, knowing he was right, in a way.

“It’s like you’re always trying to get away from me, but you can’t,” he said.

“Oh, fuck you!” you said, every trace of guilt washed away. “Get off your high horse! Isn’t that the whole point of us? That we’re using each other for sex? Nothing more than that, right? If I walked out now, you could go and find the next girl in line to take over instead of me. Didn’t you try to see someone while I was chatting to the guy I went on a date with? It’s all about using people, isn’t it? If things with the guy had gotten more serious for me, you’d have her, ready for you. Don’t you think that’s a little messed up? Leading someone on like that?”

There was truth to your words. He had tried to find someone to date, should you have found someone too and your friends-with-benefits relationship had been over. But he hadn’t led her on. He had been honest in letting the girl know he wasn’t sure if he wanted anything serious. His chest was hurting, and the pain was only making him more furious.

“Yeah, I could have switched you for her,” he said coldly. Was he only trying to hurt you now? Perhaps, but you had hurt him first.

“Right, because that’s all I am to you,” you said, quieter than before.

“That was our plan! You’re my fuck buddy, nothing more!” he raised his voice now, tired of your empty words and signs. “You have no right to accuse me of anything when I’m playing by the rules. The rules you made. Maybe we should go back to the beginning. Start the game over. I don’t even know what we’re arguing about right now.”

“Start over?”

“Go back to when we were just horny for each other and nothing else,” he said, as if that would be possible. As if he could ignore the way your eyes shined, even in the dim light coming from the streetlamps outside. Like he could pretend he didn’t want to hold you and make you forget all about this terrible fight.

“Fine, let’s try,” you said, and he watched in astonishment, as you closed the gap between the two of you. When you tilted your head, he gave you permission by doing the same. When you kissed, with teeth clashing and exhausted sighs mixing up, he swore there were bombs going off somewhere in his head. Alarm bells, too. This was by no means a great idea. But what could have stopped him and his hungry mouth? He backed you against the wall and pressed you into it, hard. Before he had registered it, his hands were pushing up the fabric of your dress and you moaned, sounding so beautiful he could barely believe it. One of his thighs forced its way between your legs while he gripped your waist like his life depended on it.

But then, just as rapidly you had begun to kiss him, you pushed him away. His lungs felt tight when he noticed the affliction and confusion on your face. He wished he could make it go away. But he had caused it, so now his presence only made things worse.

“No- no, I change my mind. This is fucking stupid,” you said. “I can’t do this right now.”

“Y/N,” he said in a gentle tone. Somehow, it seemed that his careful voice hurt you most of all.

“I think we should stop. All of this,” you said. He was beginning to shake his head in disbelief, but you cut him off. “We said there wouldn’t be jealousy, but there obviously is. We should have stopped long ago.”

“But what about starting the game again, from the beginning?” he asked, too afraid of what you would say to even look at you. If you were going to rip out his heart you should have done so quickly, when he wasn’t paying too close attention.

“The game’s over. This is going over both of our heads,” you said. “I- I’m going to go home now.”

So this was heartbreak. H/N had never considered that it could be meant so literally. But he could swear that the muscle inside his chest was convulsing and shriveling as if you had stolen the blood that kept him alive right from his arteries. The pain was sharp like a thousand cuts had been inflicted on his skin, and he struggled for words like your words had taken every of his most elemental abilities.

“I’ll walk you home,” he said.

“No,” you said. “You’re drunk. You’re the one who could need someone to walk you home. And I don’t want you around me right now. Get home safely.”

That was it. No hug. No last, longing look. Just your words stabbing like knives and your ethereal beauty as you turned on your heel and walked from the room, leaving him behind, bleeding out by himself. What had he done?

#optional bias #prism.nw #kpoptopia #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop angst #bts scenarios #kpop fanfiction #exo scenarios #bts angst #nct scenarios #txt scenarios #txt angst #stray kids angst #stray kids scenarios #the boyz scenarios #the boyz angst #optional bias scenarios #pentagon scenarios #pentagon angst #day6 scenarios #enhypen scenarios #enhypen angst #seventeen scenarios #seventeen angst #n.flying scenarios #sf9 scenarios #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic

[somebodycall911onabc]

Some post-4x13 Buddie because ummmm no to everything that just went down and whatever the hell they're doing with that promo. Pre-relationship Eddie introspection, guest-starring sleepy Buck and Chris (how often can I have these two idiots—Buck and Eddie, not Chris—wake each other up too goddamn early in the morning; the answer is infinite).

Eddie wakes up.

The world is a quiet, washed-out hum of static and dim light. He listens to his breath, in and out, in and out, as the room comes into focus. The rhythmic beeping monitor. The rough sheets over his chest. The hollowed-out numb of his shoulder where—

fuck. Where he’d been shot.

Eddie blinks open his eyes and grimaces. He’s probably doped to hell but his shoulder aches like forest fire, like a pain that will consume him and the whole world too, if he lets it. His head feels like someone pumped it full of air right up until the point before it bursts. He grits his teeth and gathers saliva on his tongue, carefully distributes it so that when he swallows, it will feel less like he’s ingesting a quart of sand. He knows this song and dance. He wiggles his fingers and toes and notes that remarkably, everything’s in working order. He wonders how often you can cheat death before that karma comes to get you.

Although he thinks Buck would probably go to bat for him, even against death himself. The heart monitor spikes as Eddie remembers with a vicious and cruel clarity Buck’s eyes on his as Eddie shuddered and collapsed. Buck’s wide, deer-in-headlights eyes, all that Eddie could see, just two pinprick pupils until there was nothing else, just the black, blank darkness.

Eddie tips his head to the side and opens his eyes, unclenching his fists, and nearly reels back when he sees Ana. She’s crumpled in the seat beside him, her chin resting on her collarbone, her long, dark eyelashes twitching against her cheek as she sleeps.

He closes his eyes and turns his head away.

But Ana’s a light sleeper. She was already waking up when he looked at her, roused from the shallow depths of unconsciousness by the change in Eddie’s breathing pattern, or something. His eyes are still closed when she croaks out, “Eddie?”

He looks at her.

“Eddie!” She says, raising her hands to flutter them over his chest, his face, his un-wounded shoulder. “You’re awake! You’re alive! Thank God,” she says, fervent. Like a prayer.

“Guess I’m just… lucky,” Eddie wheezes out. She smiles at him, eyes watering, and he gave the PG-version of his Silver Star story in her classroom but there’s no hint of recognition in her eyes.

“Either the luckiest man alive, or the unluckiest,” she says. “I’m pretty sure a lucky man wouldn’t be shot at quite so much.” She presses a kiss to his temple and Eddie has the horrible impulse to bat her away from him like she’s an overbearing aunt.

God, he’s an idiot. And it would take getting shot for him to realize it.

“What… happened?” Eddie asks, relieved when she leans back and settles into her chair.

“I’m not sure… I heard there was a sniper on the scene. The police think he might be targeting first responders, because how could this year get any worse?” When she shakes her head, her curls bounce in a way Eddie found appealing, once. It feels like a million years ago.

“Chris?” He asks, heart racing once more. She glances at the monitor and then back to him, offering a reassuring smile that does little to soothe his nerves.

“He’s OK. Buck’s with him.” Those three words calm Eddie instantly, like someone turning off an electric kettle, the worry bubbling up inside him simmering to a still. Because it means Chris is OK, and so is Buck. “I’m really grateful to Buck,” Ana is saying, taking his hand in hers, drawing his attention back to her. “It means I get to be here, with you.” She smiles at him like he’s fragile.

Wrong.

Eddie looks at her and doesn’t know how to tell her. How to tell her that the right thing would be for her to be at Chris’s side. That Chris always came first. Chris was the first and only priority. Chris was Eddie’s heart, raw and exposed, just like Bobby had said.

He looks at her and thinks about Chris’s smile, how he lights up the minute Ana walks in the room. He thinks about Chris confessing to him, quiet and anxious, that he’d asked Santa to find Mommy. He thinks about his parents telling him that the proper thing to do was to marry the girl carrying his child, even if he wasn’t sure he loved her.

Chris has been and will always be the most important thing in Eddie’s life. But Eddie’s starting to realize that even with a Northstar as good and perfect as Chris, Eddie didn’t always make the best choices. For himself, for Chris, or for their family.

“Can you call Buck, for me?” Eddie asks, brushing his thumb over Ana’s delicate knuckles. “If it’s not too late. I want to see my boys.”

She hastily bends down to pick up her purse and fumble her phone out, tell him it was fine, Buck had wanted her to call him as soon as Eddie woke up, anyway. He catches a glimpse of a “5” as she unlocks the phone and opens her contact list.

In the early morning, hospital quiet, Eddie can hear the phone ring on the other end of the line. Once, twice. Click.

“Hello?’ Buck asks, voice scratchy with sleep.

“Let me talk to him,” Eddie says, before Ana can get a word in. She hesitates, opens her mouth, but he holds her gaze until she extends the phone to him. Eddie’s hand is steady when he takes it from her.

“Hey,” Eddie says. Buck’s bleary-eyed, curls smashed to one side of his head, half his face obscured by a dark shape.

“Eddie,” Buck says, a ragged, relieved sound. He shifts, and Eddie hears him say, “Chris, Chris wake up, it’s your dad, Chris, he’s OK!”

And then there’s another face, pressing too close to the camera, so that Eddie mostly sees a nostril and some chin.

“Daddy!” Chris whoops, and Eddie smiles, and Buck pulls Chris back from the phone screen so Eddie can see him.

“Hey there, buddy,” Eddie says, “sorry I scared you.”

“W-wasn’t scared,” Chris insists, blinking rapidly because without his glasses, the world was mostly a multi-colored smudge. “I had Buck.”

Buck—who settles Chris’s glasses over his face with heartbreaking tenderness. Buck—who wraps an arm around Chris and scoots them back against the headboard so they can both see Eddie. Buck—who had clearly been sleeping in Chris’s bed, keeping him safe while Eddie was getting several pints of blood pumped into his body and shrapnel extricated from his shoulder.

“That’s good,” Eddie says. “Really good.”

“We knew you’d be OK,” Buck says. “Right, Superman?”

“Yeah. ‘Cause of your lucky charm.”

Eddie has to close his eyes against that. Chris is still so young, still Disney-innocent and honey-sweet, and Buck knew exactly what to say to calm Chris down. He knew Chris’s favorite bedtime story and the playlist Eddie made for him to help Chris fall asleep.

“That’s right,” Eddie chokes out. “My St. Christopher medal.”

“No.” Eddie blinks at that, at the stubborn line of Chris’s mouth. “Me. And Buck.”

Buck looks just about as surprised as Eddie feels.

“What?” Eddie asks.

“What?” Buck asks.

“What?” Chris asks, confused at their confusion. He addresses Buck. “Daddy said that I was his good l-l-luck charm. Because he loves me. A-and he loves you, so you’re his good luck charm too.”

Eddie isn’t sure if his kid is perceptive or just putting together ideas in the way only kids can. But it doesn’t really matter, because he isn’t wrong.

“Got me there,” Eddie agrees. “I must be pretty lucky, since I’ve got the both of you watching my back.”

Buck’s smiling a pleased, sunshine grin. The room is too dark and the connection is too poor, but Eddie would bet money that Buck’s blushing.

Eddie very deliberately doesn’t look at Ana.

“We’ll come visit as soon as the hospital opens,” Buck promises. “It’s good you called, because we should probably get going.”

To his right, Chris gives a huge yawn.

“You sure? I’m not going anywhere.”

“You think we’re gonna be able to sleep now that you’re awake? No way.”

“No way!’ Chris agrees.

“We’ll be there in fifteen. Twenty. Ten?” Buck looks down at Chris.

“Five!” Chris shouts. “The f-firetruck could make it in five minutes!”

“But we only have Buck’s jeep,” Buck says, pouting at Chris. “Definitely not a firetruck.”

“Fifteen,” Chris amends.

“OK,” Eddie says with a laugh that barely hurts. “I’ll see you soon. Thanks, Buck.”

“For what?” Buck asks, ruffling Chris’s hair with the hand that had been draped over Chris’s shoulders. “Be there soon.”

The call disconnects with the finality of a book snapping shut. He squares his shoulders (as much as he can while lying in an inclined hospital bed with a bullet injury) and turns his head to face Ana.

Her eyes are narrowed and hard, like ice over a troubled stream.

“So,” she says, slow and calm, “Buck?”

“Yeah” Eddie says. It’s all he can say. He can’t tell her how to be what he needs, what Chris needs. He can’t tell her to put Chris first like a reflex, like an instinct.

He doesn’t blame her. He isn’t mad at her. He isn’t even disappointed. He’s as shocked as anyone that he met someone who understood, immediately and profoundly, that Chris was Eddie’s world. Eddie had never counted on someone like Buck. And it was time he stopped running from that and accepted it for the undeserved, unparallelled gift that it was.

“I’m sorry,” he adds.

“Me too.” Ana takes her phone back with a snap of her wrist and drops it in her purse. “I’m going to go home.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, feeling a little guilty. He knows what it’s like to feel left behind, waking up with nothing but a note and the realization that you could never be good enough.

Ana gets to her feet and smooths the wrinkles of her blouse, and for a moment she reminds him so much of Shannon that he’s dizzy. The straight back, the self-posession, the tumble of curls swept over her shoulder.

He hopes Ana finds a love worthy of her, someone who will treasure her and believe her when she says, “sometimes our limitations let us know who we are.”

Because Eddie looked at the world like a challenge. He threw himself into it like the world might burn up tomorrow, but he would fight to the last breath anyway. He peeled away honorable discharge and may experience lifelong mobility dilemmas and we know what’s best for him and don’t you know how hard it is to be a single father like strips of old paint.

And Buck was the same way. Buck was I had to do it and didn’t you know Jim Abbot played baseball with only one hand and I’m in. You wanted us to bond, Cap. We might end up real close.

Eddie watches Ana leave, her heels clicking sharp against the tiled floor. At the door, she turns her head.

“I am glad you’re OK, Edmundo.”

“Thank you.”

And then she’s gone.

And then Eddie waits, anticipation mounting, for his boys to bring him home.

#once again Chris is the best and most unintentional wingman #buddie #ray writes #911 spoilers #can you tell I've been binging The Locked Tomb series because I nearly slipped into second person like a thousand times #writer can't fucking figure out a voice of her own #don't worry about it #I sure don't #it's all about the idiots to lovers #Buck is just one giant golden retriever #also yes I nearly had an aneurysm at just the idea of Buck snuggling Chris to keep away the nightmares and I HAD to share

[imagines-hoarder]

The Older Man (Pt 2) *smut*- Thomas Shelby

Request// Hey! Will you post a part 2 of “The Older Man”? I would be the happiest person alive =)

*After two years of sitting on the sidelines and focusing on school, I decided to use writing as a way to procrastinate from classes instead of the other way around. Family Divided and My Husband’s Brother fans are gonna kill me cause they have DEFINITELY been waiting longer; maybe more to come? I do also wanna give a little warning; I have not written a full work for this blog in two years and the first part of this story was the peak of my passion. I wanted to give y’all the smut you loved but wasn’t in the mood for angst so let me know if you have any storylines you have in mind for these two and we’ll see how long I’m around for? Please be gentle with my heart! xoxox*

Masterlist

(Part 1)

For those who know him, Tommy is predictable.

When you took a moment to finally watch the man who you had craved for years, you had noticed that he had a routine of his own that ran deeper than his calendar could account for. He was always awake before the sun, and you could only rely on him to find stillness for four hours a night; six if he could find peace. He’d spend the mornings at Charlie’s yard with the horses as day broke and would spend the coming hours in one of his factories across Small Heath. You had spent many years visiting him strictly on Wednesdays for your pay, but he now knew that a sultry touch could convince you just enough to have lunch with him before you left. He’d leave far after the last machine had ground to a halt and his final employee had clocked out. If he was lucky, you would stop by on your way home on the days of your choosing, but time had soon taught him to expect you at random. It had become his welcomed reprieve from drinking alone.

After eight months of finding yourself endlessly tangled into this circumstance with Thomas, you had settled into strange domesticity that was only possible with a man as destructive and dangerous as Tommy.

The smell of his cigarettes reached your nose the moment you unlocked your apartment. He was visible to you only in the dark by the embers glowing between his fingertips. 

“While I enjoy your covert visits as much as the next woman, I thought you would know better than sneaking up one armed with iron by now,” you proclaimed as you brought the room into further clarity by turning on the lamps. A cheeky grin was already stuck to your face by the time you could see him sitting in the wingback chair left by the last tenant. “Frankly, I’m surprised you found your way here before midnight.”

Once you had left Tommy’s office following your first fling, it didn’t take much time and even less convincing for you to find your own flat. It was close to your parents but far enough to keep them from ever knowing how the Tommy they doted on for years was defiling their only child in the dead of night. He didn’t live there, but it’s where he could be found most nights for the few hours he did sleep.

“Is it a crime to want to see you? Haven’t stopped thinking about you since you came to the office two days ago.” He looked so settled in a chair that was so beneath him, common man’s furniture that had faced many years of wear on the leather and scars on the legs.

“Well, sorry to keep you waiting, Mr.Shelby. I had a commitment to attend to this evening.” You moved to grab the empty glass resting loosely in his hands. He took a moment to notice you, no doubt arriving home from a local club. 

“A business commitment, I presume,” he called to you as you walked to the bar, pouring a glass of whiskey for yourself before refilling his own. “Can’t think of a man special enough to see you in such a state.”

You look down at your dress, an attractive piece of fabric that fashionably displayed your assets between layers of chiffon and beading. Your unruly hair had been pinned to display your mischievous eyes and the rouge in your cheeks. “Other than the present company, only the one I shot in the chest an hour ago. He was working for the Italians.”

He gave you a mere nod before you journey back to him. “At least he got a pretty view at the end of his life, didn’t he?”

His warm fingers brushed yours as you returned his glass, putting out his cigarette in the nearby dish before finding a reason to settle. His free hand pulled you to rest with him in the rundown chair, feeling the warmth of his lap underneath you and enjoying the feeling on his palm splayed on your lower back.

“I’m sure there are other things he would have preferred to see at death’s door,” you spoke gently, only loud enough for him to hear as you washed down the night with a gulp from your own glass. “Though I can’t tell if you're jealous or excited at the prospects.” He grunted before emptying his glass again.

“I have nothing to worry about. Couldn’t give a fuck about other men; just my best girl.”

“I’d say you’ve gone soft on me, Thomas, but I can feel how hard you are.” You assumed the waiting and outfit had quickly got the best of him as you felt him against you, his rigid facade contradicting the yearning you knew he felt. You slowly rotated on his lap to face him, your legs positioned to relax on either side of him. You slowly pulled the pins from your hair as he watched, letting it fall into its natural state before pushing the wayward strands behind your ear. “You’re the only one who calls me a girl anymore. I’ve been a woman for a while now, Tommy,” your hands trailed down to his trousers, slowly unveiling what you so eagerly pined for. Warm. He was warm all over and his gaze felt light fire on your face, the glasses finding themselves near the smoldering cigarette as your hand grazed deeper into his pants. “and for many, I am what death looks like.”

His lips crushed yours in a manner all but patient, his hands tangled between your hair and the back of your dress, aching to release you from all barriers between you. His lips sunk to your jaw and neck as he revealed your bare torso, leaving behind a trail of lustful caresses. You took the earliest opportunity to find balance on the ground and slipped out of the dress that pooled at your waist, tugging away your undergarments with it. By the time you had finished, Tommy’s chest was bare and you had the pleasure of freeing his member before you reclaimed your throne on top of him, calves rubbing against the firm leather of the chair.

Your weight sunk onto your knees and you felt him fill you. It was as if it were your first time again; so raw and natural as if he didn’t already own a part of you that you only now realized existed. The room brimmed with your sharp moans and Tommy’s heavy pants as you bounced on top of him. You tried to feel every bit of this moment without getting lightheaded; you didn’t know if he was pulling you closer or you were pushing yourself towards him as the coil snapped in your stomach. Your hands found their way to the nape of his neck before you let out a shaky whine in his shoulder.

“No, not yet, love,” he cooed as your soft body began to relax in his grip. It would be a sweet yet peculiar notion, to think the night was over so quickly over. You felt your legs slide from the chair as Tommy pulled you to the ground and you naturally found your position. Your hips were lifted as he reached for them and your shoulders fell to the ground. With your cheek to the floor, you could see him in your periphery, the man with a calloused touch that had reached the most inner parts of your desires. “I’m not done with you yet.”

He pushed himself inside of you, and the cry that left your throat was lewder than you could have expected. As you held onto the legs on the worn chair, Tommy only thrusted deeper between your legs. By the time he was pressed fully against you, he was bucking at a pace of his own. “For fuck’s sake, Tommy!”

He bent against you, and his chest was against your curved back, now roping his arm around your waist so every inch of you was connected to him. “They may see you as a woman out there. But in my office, in your bed...on this bloody fucking chair, you’ll always be my girl,” he gritted out. His breath was hot against your ear as he came deep inside of you, bathing in the thrill of filling you up.

All the noise faded while sweat and slick dried between your bodies. His head rested between your shoulder blades as you laid between his arms on the floor. You weren’t sure how long you laid there, moments or millennia, before you unwound your limbs from his, grabbing your pile of clothes in the process.

“I nearly died in your arms tonight,” he said with a trace of humor on his lips. You tossed him his clothes before you pulled on your bloomers.

“It’s not your time yet, old man.” The glare you received had become a familiar friend in the past year. You knew that behind his scold, he was watching you as if you were art in the making; beauty in the moonlight that he didn’t deserve.

Tommy is predictable. He always had a card up his sleeve, something holding unexpected pleasures or unforeseen schematics. The longer you knew him, the more you were sure that he would always be one step ahead of those who thought they had him pinned. Maybe that's why you kept coming back to him. He was reckless and sometimes detached in order to stay ahead, but he was always calculated and cared for you in a way only a man like him could. He fulfilled a hunger no drug, no fortune, and no other man could ever satiate in you.

He took your hand in his, his rough palms soothing to your senses. “Then we must make all the little moments count until then.” He left hot kisses up your wrist and forearm. “Marry me, Y/N.” You scoffed with a laugh bubbling in your throat, pulling away from him as you walked to your room. You needed a bath more than a joke at the moment. “I’m serious, love. Marry me and I’ll give you a house with endless corridors and new furniture.”

“Maybe I don’t want to marry you, Thomas,” you teased from the other room.

“And maybe I only want to fuck a young woman I’m married to.”

“Then you’ve become quite the prude in the last five minutes!” 

You could retort day and night, but you knew a ring would be on your finger by next week, whether you had blatantly said yes or not. You would never admit it, but you knew that Tommy saw you as predictable too.

Cuties who have asked me to tag them at some point: @buckybarnesisalittleshit @moonlxghtbay @roliepoliegirl  @iamafancygirl @eggingamazinglove @characterobsessed (if you want to be untagged, please message me!)

#thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby oneshot #tommy shelby smut #thomas shelby oneshot #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders oneshot

[rjhpandapaws]

Bad to Work With

Ch 3: Things to (Never) Learn from Hindsight

//Going to preface this with the fact that I didn’t mean to write angst, it was supposed to be fluff

Gavin wasn’t one to learn from his mistakes. A considerable feat considering the sheer number of mistakes he’d made just in recent history. He would suffer the consequences and come out on the other side only to make the exact same mistake or one that was worse. Hindsight wasn’t something he benefitted from. He looked back on most of his mistakes with the knowledge that it would only be a matter of time before he did it again. Up until recently he wasn’t a victim of situational regret. This was one of the few times he wished he could go back and undo something. Not so much the night itself, that wasn’t what he had come to regret; but the elevator ride. If he had managed to keep his mouth shut for once in his life he wouldn’t be staring down yet another coffee cup adorned with a sticky note. It was a different cafe this time, they always were. It seemed like whenever Gavin left his desk there would be a coffee waiting for him when he got back. This was the first one he had ever gotten that was waiting from before he’d arrived.

It wasn’t even that it was bad coffee. These niche cafes Richard was finding had amazing drinks. Gavin had even gone to some of them on the weekends. The thing of it was that he had a system despite the fact that his desk looked like a bomb had gone off. Richard didn’t know what the system was and he would set the cups in whatever open space was available and then leave. On the few occasions Gavin didn’t notice them in time they wound up getting knocked over. When they fell it was either onto the other papers or into his computer terminal. The papers were usually salvageable; but he was pretty sure Silas was ready to murder him. He probably had it plotted out and everything. Gavin sighed quietly and picked up the foam cup. There was no logo on this one, so he found it safe to assume it was from one of the newer cafes in the area. The sticky note on the other hand was short and simple. Gavin would have even dared to call it sweet if it were from anyone other than Ricard. He stuck his note to his monitor like had with all the others and settled in at his desk for another long day.

The issue was Gavin was almost endeared by it. He hadn’t been in a romantic relationship since high school, and no one had ever tried like this. Not for him anyway. It was making what was left of his resolve wear thin. Richard had learned exactly one thing about him and ran with it. The level of emotion to it all was what had Gavin on edge. He didn’t do feelings because he wasn’t good with them. It was less draining to just have a night with someone and then go their separate ways. He’d never had to resist his own wants like this. He avoided repeats for a reason, he wasn’t about to change that. He wouldn’t let things get beyond coffee. Except, as he waited for his computer to boot up he texted Richard.

Me: Thanks for the pick me up. Coffee Supplier: Of course, I’ve been meaning to try out that cafe for a while. Me: It’s pretty good Coffee Supplier: Definitely. Coffee Supplier: Have a good day Gavin. Me: Thanks, you too

It was the first time he had actually messaged Richard. He had saved his number to be polite, but never planned to actually use it. He hadn’t expected to have a normal conversation. It was nice in a way.

That’s where it should have stopped, would have stopped if Gavin had been stronger. The short text conversations became just as routine as the coffee and sticky notes. They didn’t really talk about anything meaningful, and made a point not to talk about work. It was almost like talking with Tina; if there wasn’t that unspoken something hanging over them. The temptation lingered, as it always did. The easiest excuse to use was that Richard was his superior. The truth of it was that Gavin was scared. The last time he had loved someone he wound up burned with his heart in pieces on the floor. He’d been younger and dumber then, but he still wasn’t sure this was a risk he was willing to take again. So it stayed small. Limited to brief conversations at work, notes passed through coffee, and text messages when they had the time. He stopped keeping the notes on his monitor after Hank had asked about them. They had their own desk drawer now. If he kept these things compartmentalized he could pretend that he wasn’t slowly being pulled in.  Gavin was short sighted, so at the time it had seemed like a full proof plan. Out of sight out of mind, that sort of thing. Even though he knew ignoring his problems only made them worse. Just this once he hoped it would work.

It turned into a bad week. The kind when he was just praying to make it to Friday. He made plans with Tina to meet up at Eden on Friday night. He just wanted to have a night to let go for a while. Be someone else. Monday was fine, but Tuesday marked the start of everything going wrong. It started with his computer crashing; it wasn’t coffee related for once, and things kind of stock piled from there. The heat went out in his apartment complex, and then his car decided to finally die on him. He had ignored the Check Engine Light for too long. He was at the point that if anything else went wrong this week he was going to fucking lose it. Friday, thankfully enough, was his half day. He wasn’t in the office long enough for things to go wrong. He worked through the morning and pulled a disappearing act the moment the chance arose. He planned to sleep for a while before meeting up with Tina at Eden and then leaving with a stranger. He had things he wanted to forget, and blue eyed problems to ignore. Eden was packed, like it always was on Fridays. Business types and the lucky public who could manage the cover charge were all out to get relief from their weekly boredom, and Gavin was right in the middle of it. Dancing with strangers and accepting any drinks that were offered to him. Anything to take his mind off of his problems. Especially the blue eyed one that had been haunting him recently.

He was in the sweet spot. Just past too drunk to give a shit, but not absolutely wasted yet. Which also meant that he was just beyond sober enough to recognize the steel blue eyes of the person he was dancing with. That they were the same eyes he was drinking to drown out. All he was concerned with was how well they fit. In any other circumstance the fact that this felt so familiar would have been cause for alarm. He was a little more sober by the time they managed to stumble out to a cab. Not enough to care, but enough to confirm that yes, this was something he wanted to do. Gavin was more caught up in the moment than he was concerned with the mild prickle of familiarity in the way this man said his name. He chalked up the ease with which he was unraveled to desperation. Anyone could be an expert in Undoing Gavin Reed if he was desperate enough for an escape. Tonight happened to be one of those nights and every red flag was excused and brushed aside in favor of chasing the pleasure. They were a problem for Sober Gavin. He would have the rest of the weekend to deal with them.

Consciousness came back to him slowly, like it always did after a night of drinking. He was rested and contentedly sore in ways that meant he had followed somebody home. Whoever his companion had been, they weren’t one for cuddling. He rolled over and found himself alone. It was slow to sink in that this particular room was a little too familiar. Once the thought made it through the haze of his hangover Gavin cursed under his breath. His memories of the club were hit and miss at best, he remembered dancing with strangers and drinking more than he probably should have. There were stern blue eyes sprinkled into them here and there. Gavin had done a repeat. That moment of clarity was accompanied to the door of the room quietly opening. From the look on Richard’s face he clearly wasn’t expecting Gavin to be awake yet, “Oh. Good morning.” “Hey.” He replied groggily as he sat up. There was a stretch of uncomfortable silence as Richard set Gavin’s now clean clothes on the bed. He gave him a onceover before retreating from the room like the devil himself was on his heals. It made Gavin feel sick to his stomach. He had definitely fucked up this time.

He got dressed slowly and tried to figure out what to do. Apologize was the obvious answer. But for which thing? All of them? The list of things he hadn’t done wrong was probably shorter at this point. When he finally gathered the courage to leave Richard’s room he was met with the strong smell of coffee. This was the moment of truth. “Your friend Tina says you owe her fifty bucks.” Richard said without looking at him, “And if you ever leave without talking to her again she’ll take your coffee money.” Gavin flinched, “Sorry you had to deal with her. Sorry for everything really. I didn’t mean for this to happen.” “Which ‘this’?” He asked as he turned around with two mugs of coffee and held one out to Gavin, “Sleeping with me again, or being so drunk that you didn’t notice who you were with?” “All of it.” He admitted and held the mug with both of his hands like the warmth would protect him from his mistakes, “From the first time till now. For the text messages. Everything.” “Did you even mean any of it?” There was an emotion to Richard’s voice that Gavin didn’t want to dwell on. He was being given an out, and he wasn’t about to pass it up.

If he were a better person he would have been honest. Instead, he set the mug down and reached for his phone. “No.” He said as he stood. He didn’t look at Richard as he walked to the door, “It’s been fun though.” When the apartment door clicked shut behind him there was an air of finality to it. Another mistake he wouldn’t learn from. There was no coffee on his desk on Monday morning. Things were finally back to normal, so he didn’t understand why it felt so empty.

#A Guide to Bad Business Practices AU #AGBBP #Bad to Work With #BWW #reed900 #dbh gavin #dbh nines #dbh fic #dbh

[stories-by-belle]

Champagne

Just some smutty Tom Holland inspired drabble, enjoy. Bx

It was here. I thought to myself, staring into the mirror. My last ever performance as Juliet.

It'd been almost a year since I rushed across London to my audition and somehow bagged the role even after being massively late and a total unknown. This was my first big role, my first leading lady role and here I was gaining good reviews as Juliet opposite Tom Hollands Romeo.

The fact that this was Tom's essential return to the West End, his first play since doing Billy Elliot when he was just a child, and his first ever go at Shakespeare had created a huge buzz around around the play. And he'd absolutely killed it, all of London was talking about his performance.

And, somehow, I'd been lucky enough to join him for the whirlwind of press that surrounded the play every night. Sally, my agent, was thrilled, I was no longer the problematic talent on her books struggling to hold my nerves together.

———

"Alright there, Juliet?" Tom nudged me with his elbow as we both stood backstage waiting to begin, for the last time. "You're being very quiet tonight."

He was right, normally by this point of the evening I was laughing with him, psyching myself up, ready to get on stage.

"I just can't believe this is the last night." I mumbled, I was really sad that this was ending, the whole experience had been amazing, we'd all become close friends, Tom and I especially, he was infectious, his enthusiasm, his joy, it rubbed off on me daily. And I truly believed that he was making me a better actress through all this. My confidence had grown as our friendship had over the many months of working together.

"Aw, you gonna miss me?" Tom grinned playfully at me.

I was, but I wasn't about to tell him that.

"Ah, you won't be able to get rid of me that easily." He said pulling me into a hug as I rolled my eyes at him. "You'll always be my Juliet." He whispered, lingering a little bit too long at the nape of my neck before moving away to take his starting position on the stage.

———

And in the blink of an eye, our last performance was done.

Both Tom and I lay still on the stage where we'd both fallen in our death scene, as the other cast members finished the play around us.

Each night, we'd lain still, and tangled up together as lovers in each others arms for, what felt like, an excruciatingly long time.

"I'll miss this part the most." Tom whispered, barely audible even to me. I thought I was hearing things until I felt his hand subtly move to hold mine.

My heart felt like it was about to beat out of my chest, as I chanced a glance up at him to find him staring down at me.

Finally the curtain fell around us, and the tension between us was cut. The audience were cheering as we got to our feet & rushed to take our final bows.

———

After the usual rounds of bowing, and then congratulating each other backstage, I quietly sloped off to my dressing room while the others starting cracking open bottles of champagne.

I'd just got my costumed unzipped when Tom rushed into the room, champagne bottle in hand, soaking me as he shuck the bottle spraying it everywhere, laughing manically.

"Tom, stop! Come on! I gotta give this costume back!" I shouted through my laughter.

"Payback!" He shouted back as he proceeded in soaking me in champagne. "For that coffee you got all over me!"

"That was an accident!" I managed to move out of his way, hiding behind my dressing screen. "And besides, I thought we agreed that neither of us had been looking where we were going that day!" I giggled at him as he missed me.

He pounced behind the screen, pushing me back against the wall, threatening to pour the rest of the champagne over my head.

"Okay, okay, I give up, you win, you win!" I giggled.

We were both breathless, I was drenched and he had my hips pinned under his against the wall. Without moving away from me he took a swig of champagne before offering it to my lips.

I could feel him watching me closely as I drank from the bottle.

We'd spent a lot of time over the months being close together like this, so it didn't feel weird, there had been a tension slowly building over the months as we'd played lovers on stage & flirted playfully & unapologetically offstage.

As Tom lowered the bottle from my mouth, we both hovered in the moment, simply staring at each other, daring the other to make the first move.

I'd wondered many times if there was something more here than just flirting for Tom, but this was the first time I felt for certain there was something. In fact, I could feel something pressing into my lower stomach as we breathlessly stared at each other.

"I'm sorry." Tom gulped as he moved away trying to hide his lower body from me "That was probably quite, uh, inappropriate." The gentleman in him kicked in, suddenly embarrassed at his actions, and his, ah-hem, reaction to it all.

My heart melted for him, for all the confidence & charm he had, he was really quite shy too. This, mixed with the pure desire I felt as he held me pinned against the wall, emboldened me.

"Don't be sorry." I said simply, moving towards him. "After tonight we won't be working together, so it's not inappropriate at all." I smirked at him, as I took the bottle from him and put it down.

Before I knew it, he had one arm wrapped around my waist, another in my hair, as he pulled me into him to kiss me hard and desperately. It was the polar opposite of the kisses we had shared each night on stage, there was absolutely nothing polite about this kiss.

"You have no idea how many times I've imagined this." Tom moaned into your ear as he trailed kisses down your neck, slowly pulling your unzipped dress down your upper body, following it closely with kisses, occasionally nipping at my skin with his teeth.

As the dress reached my hips & Tom was on his knees in front of me, my entire skin tingled with lust.

He tugged the dress over my hips & let it fall to the floor, leaving me standing above him in just my underwear. His eyes traced over my entire body before mumbling "So. Fucking. Pretty." as he placed kisses along the top of my knickers, he glanced once more up at me, asking for permission to keep going. I nodded and sighed as he kissed my centre through the thin cotton, that was already soaked through, he buried his mouth into me as my hands wound their way into his hair, willing him to keep going.

As he pulled my underwear to one side & I felt his tongue flick over my clit, my knees buckled as I gasped, grabbing his shoulders to keep me from falling.

"Sensitive?" He chuckled as he let me catch my breath.

Standing back up, he kissed me again, swapping between nibbling on my lips and pushing his tongue into my mouth, all the while his fingers worked my clit. As he applied more pressure, my knees buckled again, but this time he was there to catch me, pushing me back against the wall to keep me upright, he was relentless, as he pressed harder while drawing circles around my clit, as he moved to nibble my neck, all I could do was cling to him as my orgasm hit.

He held me close, his hand still gently playing with my clit as he watched me ride out my high.

“I’ve been dying to see you like this for months.” Tom whispered, stroking my neck with one hand, and stroking my wet folds with the other.

The noise outside my dressing room door broke us out of our trance.

“We should probably go join the rest of them for the party.” Tom mumbled, glancing behind him to check the door was closed, before removing his hand from my underwear and bringing his fingers to his mouth to taste you.

You let out a moan at the loss of his touch, knowing you needed more of him.

“But…” I started, knowing that now wasn’t the time, but I just couldn’t help it, I wanted more.

“So needy.” He chuckled with a satisfied smile on his face, I sighed as I pulled his lips back to mine and rolled my hips against his, hoping to pull us both back into the trance we’d been in.

“Later, baby.” Tom moaned as his pulled away from me completely. Reaching out for my robe that was hanging on the back of my door.

As he walked back towards me, he tried to adjust his raging hard on through his trousers, eliciting a quiet groan to escape from his lips. He gritted his teeth hard as he wrapped the robe around my shoulders.

“We should get you tidied up and looking presentable again.”

———

In the dressing room, he had quietly helped me dress and waited patiently while I attempted to fix my hair and face. We didn’t talk about what had just happened, and I was desperate for him to say anything about it, I needed clarity, was that just a one off, or was there going to be a later? He stayed by my side until he was pulled away by the director as we approached the bar to order drinks.

As I watched him leave, I tried, desperately, not to over think it all. And threw myself into having a good night instead, I chatted happily to the rest of the cast and crew, and drank and danced the night away. I had assumed Tom was somewhere amongst the crowd doing the same thing.

Suddenly it was 3am, and I was exhausted. Several of the others were all starting to make their way to the exit, as the guy I had been chatting with at the bar bid me goodnight as he left, I glanced around the room for Tom. Just as I thought that maybe he’d left already, my eyes found him, was already staring me down from across the bar, practically ignoring the group of people chatting animatedly around him.

I smirked at him, I knew that look. It was the same as the look he gave me in the dressing room earlier. As I made my way over to him, slowly, hugging and saying goodnight to various people as I moved through the crowd, he never took his eyes off me.

As I got close, he excused himself from the conversation he had been ignoring and moved towards me, winding an arm around my waist and kissing me on the cheek as he started to guide me towards the exit.

“Hey you.” He whispered.

“Where’ve you been all night?” I asked genuinely wondering why he’d left my side so quickly after we got into the bar.

“Sorry, my agent hustled me away to chat with some producers about a project. Did you have a good night?”

“Yeah, very good, lots of dancing and lots of wine.” I giggled as we made it outside, he led me away from the crowd of people congregating by the doorway waiting for taxies.

“You looked like you were having a good time with that guy at the bar before, or should I say he was having a great time looking down your dress.” Tom grumbled.

“Ohh, is that a hint of jealously I can hear?” I smirked at him.

At that he spun me around, pressing me up against the wall, his hands pinning my hips, his eyes boring into mine. I could see him gritting his teeth as he stared down at me considering his next words.

“Would you mind if I were a little jealous?”

“Not at all. In fact, I really quite like it.” I smiled sweetly up at him, this seemed to relax him a bit, clearly he’d been doing more overthinking than I had tonight. I reached my arms around his neck and pulled him down to my lips as his body melted against me.

“Hey Tom?” I pulled away as he started nibbling on my earlobe.

“Mmmhmm.”

“Is is ‘later’ yet?” I asked as innocently as possible.

“So needy…” He chuckled into my neck as he peppered light kisses down and along my collarbone.

“Do you mind if I’m a little needy?” I questioned him, the same way he had me.

Tom stopped what he was doing to look at me. “Not one bit.” He smiled. “Shall we get out of here?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” I grinned back at him, as he pulled me towards the nearest taxi, finally knowing we about to finish what we started after he’d dowsed me in champagne earlier.

#fanfic #fanfiction #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland drabble #tom holland smut #tom holland one shot #tom holland champagne

[onecanonlife]

careful son (you got dreamer's plans)

Wilbur gasps back to life with mud between his fingers and rain in his eyes.

Wilbur was dead. Now, he is not. He can't say that he's particularly happy about it.

Unfortunately, the server is still as tumultuous as ever, even with Dream locked away, so it seems that his involvement in things isn't a matter of if, but when.

(Alternatively: the prodigal son returns, and a broken family finally begins to heal. If, that is, the egg doesn't get them all killed first.)

Chapter Word Count: 8,506

Chapter Warnings: swearing, blood, major injury, seizure, character death

Chapter Summary: In which the sun rises.

(masterpost w/ ao3 links)

(first chapter) (previous chapter) (next chapter)

Chapter Twenty-One: morning sun

He has a lot of thoughts on poetry. Poetry, he often finds, is just music without the tune. The rhythm is there already, and the words can be their own melody, if they’re written right, with a shape and a contour and a buildup and a decrescendo. He knows poetry. And poetry can tell stories, too, can tell whole narratives, can show a hero’s journey from the beginning to the bitter, bitter end, because something he noted a long time ago is that in the old stories, the old poems, in the meter and rhyme, there are few heroes who get happy endings. There are few stories that end with the hero growing old and finding peace. The heroes in the stories he was drawn to, the stories that Technoblade told him as they grew from children to lanky teenagers to adults, the heroes in those stories come to tragic ends.

So, he knows poetry.

Is there poetry in death?

Once, he would have said yes. Once, he would have said that death, perhaps, after a long fight, after a struggle lost, after all the world goes caving in and the hero stands alone knowing how far he has fallen, knowing there is only so much further to go, knowing that every cliff has its bottom and every sea its floor, after all of that—once, he might have said that death, after all of that, was the most poetic thing of all.

But he thinks he knows better now. He thinks that death is not poetry at all. He thinks that death is pain and suffering and hurting those who were left behind, and death is an ending that cannot

(is usually not, and perhaps he needs to examine that, too, needs to start considering himself lucky for the second chance that no one else ever gets, because he gasped back to life with mud between his fingers and rain in his eyes and there has been so much pain since then but there has been beauty and now revelation)

be revised once the pen has left the paper, and all the best stories are edited before they are consumed.

But life is not a story, and he is a person, not a role, even if that thought turns everything upside-down, forces him to consider everything he thought he knew about the axis on which the world spins.

And dying cannot be poetry, because he thinks he is dying, and there is nothing lovely about it at all. Not now.

(and not then, either, though you were not ready to know it)

“Shut up, you’re not fucking dying,” Tommy says, and with the words come a wash of cold clarity, focus that he clings to desperately. It might be a mistake, because the pain comes back to the forefront, too, sharp and everywhere and overwhelming and he wants to retreat from it, and he thinks he’s going to retreat from it, if it keeps on like this, so it’s a matter of how long he can manage to hold on.

He’s only just recovered his footing. He’s not going to let himself slip away. Not when he’s only just figured out he wants to keep standing.

And then his heart spasms, sending a burst of hot pain ricocheting in his chest, and he is reminded that he might not have a choice in the matter. He tries to draw in breath, and finds his airways blocked. He tastes iron on his tongue. He tries to draw in breath, and he can’t, and his lungs are burning, burning—

“Turn his head,” Tubbo says sharply, “turn it, he’s choking—”

Someone wrenches his head to the side. He coughs, once, twice, and then he’s wracked with them, curling in on himself as best he can, hands coming up to clutch at his chest, his throat, and he can feel the blood spilling from his mouth, pooling in his cheek and splattering on his lips. Blood. It waters the vines, the vines that are turning to dust. The blood vines are watered, and nothing at all happens, because the vines are dead.

The vines are dead, and he is dying, because he’s pretty sure that his internal organs are all giving out.

“He’s coughing up blood,” Fundy says, near hysterically, “why is he coughing up blood, what’s wrong with him—?”

“The Egg hurts you when you hurt it,” Tommy answers, matching his tone, his high pitch, his fear. “The Egg—and I fucking forgot, oh my god, why did I let him do it, we should’ve figured this would happen—”

“Does anyone have pots?” Tubbo demands. “Does anyone have pots, because I don’t.”

“I didn’t grab any,” Fundy says, “it all happened so fast, I didn’t think to grab any—”

“Wait, shit, I’ve got one,” Tommy says. “Here, c’mon.”

He feels hands on him, gently pushing him out of the position he’s folded himself into. And then, he’s leveraged to sit more upright, and he groans, something in his abdomen screaming in protest at the shift. He doesn’t have the strength to keep his head up, so he lets it fall back, and it hits someone’s chest. He’s propped up against someone, and as his vision clears, just a bit, he sees Fundy crouched to one side, hands hovering over him, and Tommy kneeling right by him, tugging on the cork of a potion, so it’s Tubbo that he’s leaning against.

“Here, Wilbur, just,” Tommy starts, and then the glass is being held to his lips. He parts his lips compliantly, and he feels the liquid slide across his tongue, but there’s too much blood in his throat for it to go down smoothly, and in the next second, he’s coughing again, sputtering, trying to suck air into a throat that’s too clogged and lungs that won’t quite inflate. He jerks, and Tubbo’s arms come up from behind him, grabbing his shoulders and holding him steady even as his body tries to escape the inescapable.

“C’mon, Wil, please,” Tommy says, and his eyes are wide and so very blue, and there’s a sheen across them. Tears. He’s making Tommy cry. “Please, you’ve got to swallow.”

He can’t get in a good enough breath to be able to tell him that he’s trying, that he would very much like to swallow, it’s only that absolutely nothing seems to be cooperating with him at the moment. But surely Tommy knows that, knows that he would if he could, and he’ll keep trying, even though—even though everything hurts, and really, there’s no other way to put it than that. Everything hurts, every inch of him, like his skin is being stretched too tight and he’s boiling from the inside out.

(but then again, Tommy doesn’t know the realization he’s just come to, he just sees his brother limp on the ground and fading away before his eyes and coughing up the potion he’s given him, coughing up what might be the best chance they have to save him, and that is what Tommy sees, so is there any wonder that he automatically assumes that)

No. No, he needs Tommy to know. He needs all of them to know that he doesn’t want this, that he doesn’t want to go, that he’s not giving up.

Tommy presses the potion to his lips again, desperate, insistent. He parts them again, and this time, some of it goes down. A bit goes down the wrong pipe, in fact, setting him to coughing again, but that burn is nothing compared to everything else. He can feel the magic begin to take effect right away, racing inside of him, trying to repair what has been broken and torn apart, and because he can feel it at work, he can feel exactly what’s wrong, can feel it try to patch holes inside of him that the Egg’s death throes ripped open, can feel it surrounding his heart, trying to encourage it to beat in a steady rhythm again, can feel it in his lungs, trying to reopen one that has half-collapsed. He can feel it all, and he knows that even if he managed to down the whole flask, it wouldn’t be enough. Not for this.

Because magic can only do so much. Because magic only goes so far.

Despair pools in his chest along with the fire, but he bucks against it, because he doesn’t want

(he doesn’t want to die and it took him so long to decide as much to understand himself enough to realize it and he doesn’t want to die but his body is giving out even as he fights to stay and this cannot be how it ends, it cannot be, because the world is cruel and the world is unfair but he cannot believe that it would be so unjust as this, so unjust as to take away what he has only just realized he wants to keep)

(but then again, the world does not often listen, does not often care for what is good and what is fair, because the world simply is, and that was a lesson he learned long ago, chased from the podium, the arrow in his back, betrayal and desperation playing a counterpoint melody, and it would never have happened if fairness was something the world at large took into consideration)

(but then again, does the universe not listen, when it well and truly counts? though to say as much would be to imply that it never counted before, when it did, did and still does, still does, because perhaps he can heal if given the chance but he will not forget and neither will anyone else)

to die. He doesn’t want to die. And if ever there was a moment to fight against despair, to fight against despair and win, for once, it is now. It is now.

“I’m trying,” he gasps out, and then immediately has to stop, has to struggle for air again, his chest heaving. He’s shaking, his bones trying to flee his skin.

“I know,” Tommy says. “I know, just come on—” The potion is back, and it’s the last of it, and he manages to force down some more. His vision sharpens, his breathing becoming just ever so slightly easier, but it’s not going to be enough. His heart falters, skips several beats, sends deep pangs shooting through his ribcage, and he knows it’s not going to be enough.

“I am trying,” he insists, as soon as he has enough air for it, “I am, I don’t—I don’t want to go—”

He coughs. Something inside him shifts, grating against other things, and fuck but that hurts, and there’s blood dribbling down his lips again. Hot and sticky. Damning.

“Okay, okay, that’s good, you’re not going anywhere,” Tommy says, “you’re not, we’re not gonna let that happen—”

“Comms are still down,” Fundy says. “I’m not getting through to anyone. Should I—should I go and get someone? I’m a fast runner, I can make it there and back.”

No.

No, no, he—it makes sense, what Fundy is suggesting, but he doesn’t want his son to leave him, because what if he leaves and he—he never gets to tell him all the things he wants to say, all the things he should have said a long, long time ago, what if he leaves and the last that Wilbur sees of him is his retreating back and that’s all, that’s all there is for either of them, what if he dies here and now and he never gets to—

(a scene, imagined: the sun setting over the water, a warm, lazy breeze rustling his hair, and they are sitting side by side, quiet and companionable, and they are fishing, their lures bobbing together in the lake, and all is not fixed and all is not forgotten but there is peace and forgiveness and an opportunity to repair the once-burnt bridge and he wants that he wants he wants)

He moves his arm. The first time, it flops back down uselessly, but he tries again, expends far more effort than he should, and he hooks his fingers into Fundy’s sleeve. Fundy stills, and Wilbur looks at him. Really looks. Meets his eyes and keeps his gaze there. And he doesn’t know what he looks like, doesn’t know how bad he must appear at the moment, but though there is worry on his son’s face, there is something else there, too, something more complicated.

“Wil?” Fundy says softly.

He might not get another chance for this.

“I love you,” he says, and he can feel the words sliding into each other even as they leave his mouth, but he hopes he’s comprehensible. He prays, because he needs Fundy to know this. “I love you, and—I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. I’m so sorry. I wanted to be better this ti—”

His heart squeezes, like it’s doing its level best to collapse in on itself, and he breaks off with a strangled squawking sort of noise. And Fundy makes an odd noise of his own.

“Shut up,” he says. “You’re not—you’re going to be fine. Stop talking like you’re going to—you can’t leave again, okay, you can’t do this to me again, you can’t—”

He’s hurting his son. Hurting his son just like he has all along, and he’s powerless to stop it, powerless once again. And there is some measure of gladness in it, in knowing that Fundy does not want him dead, but he is hurting him, hurting him when he never wanted to do so again. When all he really wanted was a chance to make things better, if he could. If he would be allowed.

He tightens his grip on Fundy’s sleeve. Fundy’s face shutters, and then he reaches over with his other hand and pries his fingers off, and Wilbur thinks that actually he might die right here and now.

Except then, Fundy takes his hand and intertwines their fingers, clutching them tightly. He tries to squeeze back and only manages a flutter, but it’s enough.

(because all is not well between you and perhaps it never will be, but know this, know that your son still loves you)

“I’m so sorry,” Tubbo says suddenly, and he can’t crane his neck to look at him, so he has to settle for listening to the words. “If I hadn’t used the totem, maybe—”

“Oh my god, don’t fucking say that,” Tommy snaps, and Wilbur quite agrees, because if Tubbo hadn’t used the totem, then perhaps this would feel very different, and perhaps he would not be terrified of the sensation of his life slipping away from him, because he would have death’s most effective preventative measure resting in his hand, waiting for his heart to still in order to repair the damage. But if Tubbo hadn’t used the totem—and he didn’t see exactly what happened, occupied as he was, but he can guess well enough from the still-present echoes of terror on Tommy’s face—then Tubbo would be dead. And that is not an acceptable loss.

“It’s the truth,” Tubbo insists.

“No,” he forces out, “no, that wouldn’t—that wouldn’t be any better—”

And then, his muscles seize. His back arches, and he hears himself cry aloud, and then the world goes away for a bit.

When it all returns, it crashes in on him at once, and he feels disoriented, exhausted, like his brain is seeking anything recognizable, anything to help make sense of what’s happening, and coming up with nothing. It takes a moment for him to remember where he is, what’s just happened, and even then, he feels dazed, almost outside of himself. He still hurts, but it’s distant. Like it’s happening to someone else.

He’s lying fully on the ground. There’s something soft under his head. A jacket? There is no one holding his hand, and a low keen rips itself from his throat. But no one’s listening—sound filters back in, and it takes effort to parse the voices from each other, speaking over themselves as they are.

“—going,” Fundy is saying, and Fundy, Fundy, he’d like Fundy to come back and be next to him, but he forces his head to flop to the side and sees that Fundy is standing now, standing with the rest of them. “I’m going, we need help, he’s—he’s literally dying right now—”

“He’s not fucking dying,” Tommy says, “would you stop saying that, he’s not—”

“If you’re gonna go get help, then go and hurry up up about it,” Tubbo is saying at the same time, and—

That’s right. He’s dying. He might have just had a seizure. That’s probably what that was. Caused by—seizures can be caused by traumatic brain things, right? Injuries? Having the Egg fucking around in there probably counts, and even beside that, he felt it die, felt it as the power of the universe flowed through the sword in its hand and tore it apart, even as it took him down with it.

(and there are some things that a mortal mind is not meant for, and surely, surely, the universe in its glory and its infinity is one of them and yet it is in your head always humming always there and it will not leave even when you do not pay it heed)

So that’s that. He’s just had a seizure, and he thinks his body’s gotten to the point where it’s given up on trying to fix anything, because the pain is fading, fading back into numbness, as if all his nerves have collectively decided that this situation is a little too fucked up and there’s nothing they can do, no point in working on it anymore. No point in signaling that anything’s wrong when nothing’s being fixed.

He’s dying.

(he doesn’t want to go)

“No way he gets back in time,” someone says. “You’ve got minutes at most.”

He’s not sure who spoke, but he agrees. Short of a miracle, he’s—he’s dying, and he wants to cry, because he doesn’t want to go. His surroundings blur.

He’s alone. Why isn’t anyone next to him? They’re standing, around him but not with him, talking to each other, voices so frantic and scared, and they’re just kids, and it’s so unfair that any of this is being put on them at all, and he doesn’t blame them for it, of course, but he thinks that if anyone was going to go for help, it should have been done right away. Not now. It’s not going to do any good now.

If he’s going to die, he doesn’t want to be alone.

(he intended to die alone, at the end of it all. he intended for himself to be the only one to be hurt. that’s one of the only reasons why he didn’t blow it all to hell sooner, because people were there, people talked him down, people like Quackity, people like Tommy, and they didn’t talk him out of wanting to do it but their presence reminded him that he didn’t want them to be hurt, he only wanted himself to hurt, because that was what was fair and that was what was right)

(but he didn’t die alone, at the end of it all. Phil held him, and he felt a little less afraid under all that relief, and the last thing he remembers from that day is warmth overwhelming, and if he’s going to die again, he doesn’t want to be cold, alone, alone)

He tries to talk, to say something, but he really is having trouble breathing now. His chest rises and falls in quick, short pants, too shallow to supply enough oxygen, too little to support his voice. He tries to move to get their attention, but his limbs don’t respond to his commands.

And then, Fundy’s taking off, running for the entrance, and no, no, no—

He finally manages to meet Tommy’s gaze. Tommy’s crouched by him again in an instant, and Tubbo is, too, grabbing his hand, and he’s glad of it, glad for the contact, but—

“It’s okay,” Tommy tells him. “You’re gonna be fine, Wilbur, Fundy’s gonna go get someone, and they’ll bring more pots, and, and another totem, too—”

His vision is darkening. He wants Fundy to come back. His heartbeats are growing more erratic, slower, weaker.

“Tommy,” Tubbo says, voice small, and stops. Tommy goes silent for a moment.

“No,” he says, then, and his voice is a sob. Wilbur wants to comfort him. He can’t move. “No, no, this isn’t fair—”

He knows. He knows, and he can’t do a thing about it.

“I—” he manages, pushing the word out with what little air is circulating through his lungs. “I don’t want—”

He can’t finish.

“I know you don’t want to go,” Tommy says, “I know, so, so you won’t, you won’t, you’re going to be fine—”

“We’re here, Wilbur,” Tubbo says. “We’re right here.”

He’s glad. He wants to stay with them.

“Jesus, Wilbur.” There’s that voice again. Not Tommy’s, not Tubbo’s. Soft and exasperated, and perhaps a little bit concerned, but he’s not sure. His ability to think, to reason, is slipping from his grasp, and one some level, that terrifies him, but on another, he can no longer care. “You giving up?”

The peculiar combination of derision and amusement is familiar. He opens his eyes; he hadn’t realized he’d closed them. Above him, a face hovers, upside-down from his vantage point. Dark hair, scruff, chipped horns, a blue sweater. Schlatt.

How long has he been here?

“Is this how you’re gonna go out?” Schlatt asks him. “Taken out by a—whatever the hell this was? You know, I’m still not clear on that. None of you assholes ever explained it to me. Some kind of demon bullshit. But you’re just gonna let this happen?”

Somehow, his voice cuts through the haze that’s filled his mind, cuts through even where Tommy and Tubbo’s voices have blended together, becoming one with the background. Perhaps it’s the sudden burst of annoyance, an energy he thought he no longer had; of course he’s not letting this happen. There’s just not a whole lot he can do to fight against acute organ failure. Does he look as if he planned this?

“You don’t want to go, though,” Schlatt says. “I heard that. Good on you, I guess. Deciding that life’s worth something after all. I’m real proud.”

He tries to glare at him. He has no idea whether his face is doing anything or not. If it is, he hopes that the boys don’t think he’s mad at them.

“Okay,” Schlatt says. “Okay, you know what? Let’s give this a try. You’re a real jackass, though, you know that? I want to make sure you know that. I need you to remember that to the end of your days. I want you to put it on your tombstone when you do finally kick it. Here lies Wilbur Soot, he was a real jackass.”

He doesn’t understand what Schlatt is trying to say. He’s rambling, as if to himself. And the world is sliding away again.

(he’s trying to hold on but there’s only so much he can do if the entire cliff face gives way there’s only so much he can do to fight against it there’s only so much)

But then, he feels it. The tether. The rope that binds them. The trailing connection. It opens up, pulling like gravity on his heart, and there’s that familiar sensation, energy leaving him, flowing down the line, except this is energy that he truly doesn’t have to spare, and the last embers of his panic flare up again, because surely Schlatt can feel it, can feel that he has nothing to give, that this is only going to kill him quicker, within seconds if he keeps this up and he may not have much of a chance here but he doesn’t need Schlatt making it worse—

“Holy shit!” he hears Tubbo say, backed up by, “What the fuck are you doing?” from Tommy an instant later. He can’t see them. He can’t see anything. Their voices are far away, and he’s trying to reach them, but he’s falling, and he can’t stop it, can’t stop himself, and the void is close.

(and he’s scared)

“Hey Tubbo,” he hears Schlatt say. Distantly, from a long way away, and getting quieter. Everything is dim. He’s floating. “You deserved better than me, kid, you really did.” A pause. “Tell Fundy the same thing, would you?”

His heart beats. Once. Twice. And then does not beat again. He’d be in pain if he could still feel it. But it’s all gone. All falling away, and the void is close, the void is reaching out to him, and he is—

And then, the tether reverses.

Energy flows back into him. What Schlatt took, and somehow, inextricably—more.

He slams back into himself all at once, gasping for air, back arching off the ground as he is hit with—everything. Sensation, in his fingers, in his toes. Pain, in every inch of him, every atom. Lungs that inflate, barely at first and then more fully. Ruptured places repairing themselves. A heart that starts again, and beats, beats, beats.

“C’mon,” Schlatt is muttering, over and over, and though Tommy and Tubbo are still talking, it’s the only voice he can latch onto. “C’mon, c’mon.” His hand is splayed across Wilbur’s chest, firm and solid, pressing down. “C’mon.”

He has sight again. Schlatt is still there, is still leaning over him, strain written on every line of his face, and Wilbur doesn’t understand, doesn’t understand what he’s doing, doesn’t understand where this energy is coming from, doesn’t understand how it’s—healing him. It’s healing him. Though—Schlatt is a ghost, is usually intangible, has to rely on Wilbur’s lifeforce if he wants to do anything, but perhaps that doesn’t mean Schlatt has none of his own. Perhaps it’s just not enough to sustain him. Perhaps it’s not enough to form him a body, not enough to create life from death.

But perhaps it’s enough for this.

Just as he works through it, Schlatt loses his solidity. His hand slips down, passing through Wilbur’s chest, and he shudders at the sensation, tingling and cold. But Schlatt doesn’t pull away, and the energy keeps flowing, and then, Schlatt starts to flicker, his form wavering in and out of reality.

And finally, Wilbur thinks he understands.

(reciprocity is something they both know well, and a connection once opened can flow both ways)

“You’re giving too much,” he says, though he’s practically mouthing the words, so thin is his voice.

“Yeah, well,” Schlatt says, his voice echoing and distant and staticky. Like a snowfall. “Maybe I want you to prove me wrong.”

Prove him wrong?

(a sunny day, flowers twisted absently in his hands, blue flowers to match the blue sweater, blue sky above, and Schlatt’s voice saying, people like us don’t change, and he once believed that, believed that his role was set and there was no going back, and he believed that for Schlatt as well, believed that for the both of them there could be no redemption, but now he isn’t so sure, and he looks into Schlatt’s eyes and he thinks that perhaps)

“Schlatt,” he whispers, and Schlatt gives him a long look. Hard, but not cruel, measured, but not mocking, considering, not dismissive. And perhaps, just perhaps, there is a little bit of regret there, too.

(regret for the boys they once were, full of life and ideas and hope, tongues sharp and minds sharper, and what good friends they used to be, in the days of their youths when they were free and unburdened and war was a tale from the past and politics a distant future and betrayal a joke and a game, when they were young, when they were young)

“Prove me wrong, Wilbur,” Schlatt says, and then, he is gone. He winks out of existence, and there is no shimmer of blue in the air, no feeling of being watched, of eyes on him, and the tether breaks, snaps apart, and he lets out a soundless shout as the backlash hits him, like a rubber band snapping back into place. The energy stops, and there is nothing in its place, and he reaches out, instinctively, searching, and finds nothing. Where the ghost was, there is blank space. Only the world, and no hum of the stars.

(the hum of the stars is in your mind and your mind only and you are alone inside of it and there is no other not anymore)

And he is alive.

“What the fuck,” Tommy is saying. His hands paw at his neck, pressing up to find his pulse, and Wilbur can feel it. The touch is warm. “What the hell did he do to you, that fucker—Wilbur? Wilbur, c’mon, answer me, man, are you still—”

“Here,” he says, and Tommy falls silent. “I’m here.”

He is here. He is lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, and the vines are still turning to dust above him. He is here, and he hurts, still, deeply and acutely, every inch of him aching, but his heart beats steadily, his lungs expand when he breathes, and there is no catch in his throat, no urge to cough, no churning in his stomach, no convulsions wracking him, and his vision is clear.

“Wilbur?” Tubbo asks. His voice shakes.

“I’m here,” he says again. “I’m not going. I’m still here.”

“Oh my god,” Tommy says, and then, Tommy’s all but on top of him, lying on his chest, wrapping his arms around him, knocking the breath right out of him, and Tubbo follows a short second behind, taking up all of the space that Tommy isn’t. He wheezes, but it’s a good sort of wheeze, even if it hurts. It definitely hurts. But he’s hardly about to get them to stop.

They pile on him, grabbing onto him like their lives depend upon it,

(or like his life depends upon it)

and he feels warm, and present, and here. Still here.

(safe)

(alive)

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. That’s about all the volume he can manage; his throat feels shredded. “I’m so sorry I scared you.”

“You’d better be sorry,” Tommy chokes out. “I thought you were gonna die.”

“I thought I was too,” he says. “But I didn’t want to. I fought it, I swear. I don’t want to go. I mean that.” They’re on top of his arms, pinning them. He gives them a nudge, experimentally, but they don’t give an inch, so he’s going to have to settle for not hugging them, apparently. “I’m staying right here. I don’t want to die.”

The words are novel. He thinks he’d like to say them over and over again, just to test them out, to feel the truth in them. He doesn’t want to die, and more than that, he rather thinks he wants to live. What a revolutionary thing it is, to want to live.

“You dickhead,” Tommy mutters, and buries his face in his shirt, which becomes damp in short order. He won’t call him on it.

“Please don’t do that again, though,” Tubbo says. “That was actively terrifying.”

He manages a laugh. The sound of it surprises him. “I’m not planning on it,” he says.

Despite the heavy weight of two teenage boys resting on him, he feels lighter than he has in weeks. Since he woke up in that forest, rain falling on his face, and turned to the arctic, to the snow and the tundra and the promise of family that he didn’t know how to feel about, the promise of a family that was scattered and broken into too many pieces. Since seeing his brother again a scarce day later, standing in the rain, the notes of the guitar fading in the air. Since the Egg, since the prison, since arguments and tentative reconciliations and everything that’s happened between now and then. And the thoughts still lurk. He can sense them in the shadows of his mind, ready to swell forth again, ready to tell him all about what he deserves and how he will be betrayed and how everyone hates him and he hates himself but for now—

For now, in this moment, he wants to live, and he wants to live well, and he pushes aside the whispers of what he deserves and lets himself be, and lets himself love.

(and lets himself be loved)

And then: footsteps. Several pairs, rushing down the corridor. He can’t get a good look, and the boys don’t seem inclined to take much notice, either. But he has a feeling as to who it is, and his suspicion is confirmed a moment later, as Fundy’s voice floats toward him, saying, “—bad, I mean, it’s really bad, I really think he’s literally dying, and I don’t, I just don’t—” He sounds as though he’s been keeping up this litany for some time, perhaps more as something to say than anything else, something to focus on, something to distract him a bit. His voice gets closer, and then stops. “Oh my god, is he dead?” His voice pitches upward, and overlaps with a sharp inhalation—Phil’s, he recognizes.

So there’s only one thing to do.

“Help,” he rasps, “I’m being crushed.”

There is a long moment of silence, and he almost wishes that Tommy and Tubbo would get up so that he could see the looks on their faces. Almost, but not quite. He’s content to stay like this for a good while longer.

“Oh my god, he’s alive,” Fundy says, and there is a sharp exhalation, also from Phil.

“You fucks,” Phil says, relief audible. “Do you know how scared I was?”

“I wasn’t,” Techno says. “I wasn’t worried at all.”

Finally, Tommy stirs, lifting his face from his chest and glaring off in the direction of the entrance. He also lifts a hand and flips them off.

“Fuck off,” he says. “We’ve just had a traumatic experience, we have. Are you going to stand there and be—and be twats, or did you bring anything useful? Like—” He stops, looking back down at him. His face is vaguely tear-stained, though Wilbur’s pretty sure that most of it is in his shirt. “Do you still need some pots? Or did—what the hell did he even do, anyway? How did that—you were definitely dying, and then he was there, all, all like that, and then he disappeared and you were better. What did he do?”

“Changed, I think,” he murmurs, and judging from the expression on Tommy’s face, he doesn’t get it. But that’s alright.

“Okay,” Phil says, and then he’s sweeping toward them and kneeling. His wings are on full display, he notes, no effort at all put toward hiding them, and maybe it doesn’t really mean anything, but he can’t help but feel glad. Phil should never have to hide his wings, no matter what condition they’re in. “Alright—here, Tubbo, could you move over a bit?”

Tubbo shifts off of him, too, his breathing unsteady. His eyes are slightly red-rimmed to match Tommy’s. He doesn’t say anything, just shuffles to the side so that he’s sitting next to Tommy. Phil shoots a quick smile at him, one that’s probably supposed to be reassuring but comes off as strained, and then, his hands are on Wilbur’s shoulders.

“You think you can sit up, Wil?” he asks, and Wilbur tries. He tries, but immediately gives it up as a lost cause as all his core muscles cry out in immediate protest.

“Sitting up ability is currently on strike, I believe,” he says, and Phil’s brow furrows in concern, but he takes it in stride. Behind him, Fundy and Techno are both hovering—though Fundy’s far more obvious about it. It is a bit funny how they’re both doing it, though, and the contrast between them, Techno’s bulk and general everything next to Fundy’s fidgeting. Fundy keeps casting glances at Techno, too, nervous ones.

Phil pulls him into an upright position, and he moans, his head swimming for a second before the lightheadedness abates. He hunches forward, letting gravity pull him back down a little; he thinks he’d flop over like a ragdoll if it weren’t for Phil steadying him.

“Where are you hurt the worst?” Phil asks, voice quiet. “Fundy said you were coughing up blood. And that you had a seizure, I’m guessing, judging from what he told us.”

He can still taste it on his tongue. Sharp iron. And his limbs are all very sore.

“A bit everywhere,” he admits. “I’m pretty sure all my organs were giving out on me at once, so I don’t think there’s one specific area that needs attention.” Phil’s expression widens into open dismay at that, and something very much like fear, and perhaps he shouldn’t have phrased it quite like that. Perhaps he shouldn’t be so blasé about his imminent death in front of the man who he begged to take his third life and definitely emotionally scarred in the process. But he’s still a bit wrapped up in the fact that he’s alive at all, alive and glad to be so.

“Okay,” Phil says, in a way that implies he definitely does not think that it’s okay, but he’s trying to keep it together. “Okay. That’s—okay. Do you think you could get down a regen?”

He pulls a face, but nods. Regen potions have never been his favorite; their magic is rough, unsubtle, far more concerned with function over comfort. But he likely needs one, or two, or several, or as many as his body can keep down, because he is alive, but probably far from alright, still; the continuing ache is evidence enough of that, and he’s fairly certain that if he tried to stand, he would tip over immediately. Phil has no reservations, bringing out a pot from his inventory and holding it up to him, a mirror of Tommy’s actions a minute before. Only this time, he brings up a shaking hand to help support the glass, even if he can’t hold its full weight, and he swallows all of it without coughing.

It gets to work. He winces, and then decides that he’s been on the ground long enough. The energy from the pot is more than enough for him to attempt to get up.

“Whoa,” Phil says, “wait, Wilbur—”

He’s up. His vision blacks out for a second, but when it clears, he’s still up, if woozy. He imagines he might need help to walk any significant distance, but he won’t need to be carried, at least. Which is nice. Being carried is undignified.

“You should absolutely not be standing up,” Tommy snaps, and he raises an eyebrow.

“And yet,” he says, spreading his arms. Once again, he gets the impression that he’s being far more casual about all of this than he should be. He imagines that it will hit him later, the horror of it, seeing Niki’s face twisted in rage, letting the Egg inside his mind once again, almost being unable to pull himself out, almost dying right after he figured out that he didn’t want to. It will all his him, he’s sure, but for now, he would like to walk out of here under his own power, his family by his side, everyone alive and unharmed, the trouble dealt with at last. “I’m alright. I actually mean that. I’m not going to keel over.”

He inhales. Wrinkles his nose. Actually, it doesn’t smell very nice in here.

“Is the rest handled?” he asks, glancing at Phil. Phil is standing very close to him, wings flared, likely ready to catch him if he needs it. He won’t, though he appreciates the gesture.

“We felt the Egg go,” Phil says. “It was like—like the world itself distorted for a second, and then patched itself back up. We were already on our way here when Fundy came to get us. In a nutshell, yes, it’s handled. Dream was still up when we left, but the rest of the Egg people just sort of—stopped. And nobody on our side went down hard. Eret and Puffy got the worst of it, but they’ll both be fine, last I saw.”

“But Dream was still up,” he says. Beside him, Tommy’s shoulders hunch.

“Not for long,” Techno says. His gaze is fixed behind them, on the Egg. “We would’ve stayed if we weren’t sure of it.” His eyes drift to Tommy’s for a second. “The others are handlin’ it. But we can go see.” And then, to Tubbo: “The totem came in handy.” A statement, not a question.

“Yes,” Tubbo says, expression inscrutable. “It did. Thank you, Technoblade.”

Techno shrugs. “I gave it to be used,” he says dryly. “Let’s not make a habit of it.” And that is a Techno way of saying you’re welcome, of burying the hatchet as much as he is able, and it’s not nearly enough, but it’s a first step. And then, Techno literally steps forward, and Wilbur is a little too concerned with the way that Tubbo stiffens to notice exactly what his intent is, which is why it takes him by surprise when Techno takes his head in his hands and presses their foreheads together.

Just for a second. But it’s an old gesture, a familiar gesture, and not one that he ever expected to receive again. His breath catches.

(you were kids the first time he did this, the first time he butted his head against yours, impossibly gentle, tender in a way you hadn’t realized Techno knew how to be, and it wasn’t until later that Phil explained it to you, explained piglin instincts and the concept of a sounder and how Techno always, always feels far more than he lets on, and always, always cares, perhaps too much, and he still does, despite everything, he still does)

And then, Techno walks forward, past them, to the husk of the Egg that lies behind, and the moment is over. But it was there. It was there, when it didn’t have to be, when Techno would still be well within his rights to hold back from them, from him, to keep his distance. But here he is, displaying open affection, and he’s not naive enough to think that means it’s all fixed, but—

Hope is a dangerous thing, but he feels in the mood to indulge. And beside him, Tubbo relaxes, and Tommy, just for a second, wears an expression that suggests a bit of hope of his own.

He turns to watch Techno as he roots through the dust, a crumbling, greyed-out monument that barely holds any shape. A reminder, and nothing more. An empty shell, and that, too, will disintegrate soon enough, leaving a room of dust and lava pools, and statues long abandoned.

Techno huffs. Reaches down. And from the middle of the Egg, he pulls out—

“Is that fucking Skeppy,” Tommy states, flat as a fucking pancake.

He blinks. Because it—is. Somehow. Fucking Skeppy. Though he looks different; parts of him are the same blue, but many patches are discolored, greyish white, and as Techno hoists him up, Wilbur thinks he sees red slipping off of him, like runny paint.

“Oh my god,” Tubbo says. “Was the Egg Skeppy this whole time?”

“I was wonderin’ where this guy got off to,” Techno says, and throws Skeppy across his shoulders in a fireman’s carry, apparently unconcerned. “He hadn’t been by to bother me in a while. And BadBoyHalo kind of just sat down and started cryin’ about him, which, I won’t lie, I had no idea how to handle, not my area, but I thought he might be here. Are we leavin’ these two here, or takin’ them?”

Niki and Jack. Both on the ground, chests rising and falling. Free of the Egg, now, but he’s not sure where that leaves them. Though it would likely be—

“Leave ‘em,” Tommy says, startlingly vehement. “Just, we’ll come back, leave ‘em here for now.”

“I don’t think he meant to,” Tubbo says quietly. “I think it just happened really fast.”

“Don’t care,” Tommy says. “Leave ‘em.”

He looks back and forth between them. Gold still dances across Tubbo’s skin. And he wasn’t turned around, didn’t see what happened, but he thinks he can guess, based on everything, based on Niki’s sword at Tommy’s throat and Jack pinning Tubbo to the ground, based on their desperate, misdirected need for vengeance and the way Jack shouted and a boy who would do just about anything to ensure Tommy’s safety. Hears I don’t think he meant to, and thinks about other times, darker times,

(and meaning does not always matter, because intent is washed away in impact, and he never meant to hurt them)

and he decides not to ask. Not now. Not yet. Though it should be addressed. A lot of things should be addressed, a lot of things that they have not, yet, because there has been no time, because everything has been moving at a breakneck pace, but the pace will be slower now. The pace will be slower, and they will have time.

He looks to Fundy. Fundy stares back, not saying anything at all. His eyes are wet.

“I’m glad you’re not dead,” Fundy murmurs. Quiet enough that he doesn’t think anyone else hears it.

“Me too,” he says. “And I’m glad you’re here.”

A start. A first step. There are so many of those that still need to be taken. For now, Fundy’s lips curl into what might be the ghost of a smile.

They will have time.

***

The scene they return to is this: some are standing, some are sitting, all gathered in the courtyard of the castle. The gates lie wide open. The vines are gone. The sun is rising.

There is Eret, standing tall, though blood still runs down from a wound on their shoulder and another long gash on their arm. Their crown is blood splattered, their glasses still perched on their nose, though slipping down, and Wilbur glances away before he can take in something he’s not meant to see. There is Puffy, kneeling, her blood on the grass around her; it is her leg that is wounded, though it is difficult to tell how badly. There is Sam, shifting, uncertain, a lost look in his eyes as his fingers flex around his trident. There is Purpled, on the outskirts, on guard but perhaps an ally, though he has no reason to be. There is BadBoyHalo, sitting, curled into himself, tears running down his face, which is less ashen. The other members of the Eggpire cluster around him, seemingly in various states of shock. None of them move. They are mostly ignored.

There is Ranboo, also sitting. His eyes are wide. Tears are streaming down his face, too, and a bit of steam rises from his skin. He pays no mind. He’s trembling, occasionally gasping for breath through a sob.

There is Quackity, still standing, hands clutched around an axe like it’s the best protection he knows how to have. He wonders if there’s any truth to that; Quackity has never been one for fighting, though he tries.

(he wonders if Schlatt wanted to say anything to him, too. wonders if it would have done more harm than good)

And then there is Dream, lying on the ground. There is George, crouched by his side. There is Sapnap, kneeling, all his weight on the sword piercing Dream’s chest. Dream’s chest rises and falls, shallow and slow, and nobody moves. Sapnap’s face is flushed, tears in his eyes, and whether they are from anger or grief, he can’t tell.

Dark smoke puffs out from under Dream’s mask and dissipates in the air. Tommy makes a small sound, and Wilbur fits his hand into his. Tommy doesn’t look at him, doesn’t look away from the sight in front of them, but his fingers curl around his.

Sapnap moves as if to draw the sword out. Dream’s hand comes up and wraps around the hilt, stopping him.

“No,” Dream says, voice a reedy whisper, free of shadow. “You need to be sure it’s gone.”

And so they stay. The only sound is crying, and Sapnap’s harsh breaths, hitched and desperate. Both angry and grieving at once. George’s hands inch forward until they’re curled into Dream’s hoodie. It’s like a painting, the three of them. The sun crests the walls of the castle, and the rays fall on them like a caress, and the smoke stops appearing. The sigils carved into the sword dim.

Dream stops breathing. Quietly, and without fanfare. Like a sigh.

As one, more than a dozen communicators chime.

Tommy exhales shakily.

(is this closure? is this what he wanted? he doesn’t know, but there is no going back, no going back to the old days, when they were all still friends and the war was a game)

(and after everything that Dream did perhaps it feels wrong that this should end so abruptly or that he should not shove the sword in his chest himself for what he did to Tommy or that Tommy should have no say in his fate but at the same time perhaps it is right and perhaps this is the way the circle breaks at last)

Techno sighs, walks over to where Bad sits, and dumps Skeppy in front of him. As if a spell has been broken, Tubbo moves, too, crossing to Ranboo and crouching before him, speaking to him in low tones. Several others start moving, like the world was on pause and has only just resumed. Sapnap draws the sword from Dream’s chest, but he remains there, kneeling by the body.

Dream looks peaceful. Though with his mask still on, it’s impossible to tell. No one motions to remove it.

Tommy presses close to him. On the other side, Fundy steps closer. Against his back, he feels one of Phil’s wings brush against all of them, a promise of shelter, of safety. Perhaps this time, it will be kept.

Just like that, it is over. Can it be over?

(is it ever truly over?)

(but in every ending there is a beginning, and the world still spins, and the grass still grows, and the sky is still blue, and finally there is more reason to look forward than back)

The sun rises. Is rising, has risen, will rise again and again and again. And he’s lived to see it.

#mcyt #dsmp #dream smp #dsmp fic #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #tubbo #fundy #technoblade #philza #/rp #cat writes fic #long post #deep breaths everybody deep breaths

[seok-jinnies]

one | myg

min yoongi x reader, jeon jungkook x reader ;

angst, light fluff ; wc : ~2.6k

warnings: some swearing

in all his years of existing, min yoongi doesn’t think he has ever loved someone as much as he loves you. after all, he knows, deep in his soul, that you’re the one for him.

however, jeon jeongguk also thinks that you are the one for him, so yoongi might have more than a few problems with that.

Just like that, Yoongi thinks, you’re slipping through his fingers once again. He wants to throw up. Or pass out. Or straight up die. One of the three would be preferable.  

He hadn’t meant to overhear… he had just wanted to come see you. Maybe surprise you with burgers from your favorite diner two blocks away. You had mentioned that you weren’t feeling well at all, and that you were in dire need of a pick me up. Yoongi doesn’t know why he immediately hauled ass to that diner you loved so much just to get you a burger and some fries, especially when you had a boyfriend who could do it for you.

Said boyfriend went by the name of Jeon Jeongguk, an irritating photographer who happened to have a knack for literally everything in the world. It’s almost a bit unfair, how good he was at everything, but at least he treated you well, so at least there was that.

On second thought, it wasn’t just a bit unfair, it was really fucking unfair. Jeongguk had loved you for what? Two, three years? And here he was, living the life of Yoongi’s dreams. Waking up with you, making breakfast with you, just being with you in general. Yoongi almost wants to cry at the thought.

Going back to the matter at hand, Yoongi recalls with startling clarity the moment he had heard Jeongguk’s voice. He was just about to round the corner to yours and Jeongguk’s shared apartment when he heard it. 

“...listen, she can’t know, alright? Whatever happens, (Y/N) cannot find out.” Jeongguk’s voice was hushed, and warning flags were raising at the back of Yoongi’s mind. Was he cheating on you? Pissed, he stopped in his tracks, listening intently. 

“...what?” Jeongguk continues. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve got the ring ready. Am I…? Of course I am. I love her. I want to spend the rest of my life with her. She’s the one, hyung. She’s the one.”

Oh, Yoongi thinks. Oh.

The burger and fries are left on the stairwell.

-

The first time Min Yoongi meets you is on his birthday. Winter was on its last breaths, and he was grateful. No one told him that twenty-five was the age when all your joints started to ache like a grandpa, and he hated it severely. The cold wasn’t helping him much with joint pain either.

It was snowing too, so Yoongi had to make sure to actually wear a coat. It looked like his days of wearing a t-shirt and ripped jeans out in the snow were long gone.

There was nothing special about the day he met you. Perhaps, it was so that you could stand out even more. Not that you needed help standing out; you were already breathtaking on your own. With cosmic assistance? You were absolutely lethal.

He had a camera that day, if only to humor his friend, Jimin, who was devastated that he was spending his birthday alone. You have to at least take pictures, okay? He had insisted through a very static-y phone call the night before. Prove to me that you went out for your birthday. Treat yo self! Jimin squealed. Yoongi had to pull his headphones off at that.

You were sitting on a bench, talking on the phone. You were laughing, and for one cliche moment, Yoongi’s heart stopped. Maybe it was the sunlight hitting you just right, or maybe it was your (frankly contagious) laughter, but he was pretty sure you were almost too pretty to exist. 

His hands moved before he could think too much of it, and before he knew it he had taken a picture of you.

There was no sign that you had noticed, and Yoongi almost felt ashamed at the action. He decided to approach you, show you the picture and then ask if he could keep it. However, you stood up the moment he took a step forward. You left, never to be seen again.

Well, not really.

You were a friend of a friend who then introduced the two of you to each other. He was overjoyed of course, but as much as Yoongi wanted to convince himself that it had nothing to do with how pretty you were and everything to do with showing you the picture, it was definitely because he was so smitten with you that he actually forgot his name when you introduced yourself.

(And that day, Yoongi decided that it was love at first sight. Or second. Whatever. He was in love, anyways.)

-

It’s at your birthday party when he decides. He’s going to tell you. He’s going to confess.

Maybe not now, not tonight, but someday.

You look stunning, he decides. You were wearing this red off-shoulder dress which fell to your knees, and some heels which Yoongi knew must be hell on earth for you. You never did like heels.

Your apartment was filled with your friends, some from college and some from work, he deducts, as he meets eyes with a couple of strangers. He smiles awkwardly and turns back to his drink, searching for a familiar face when⁠—

“Yoongi!” You call out happily. The stiff excuse for a smile he had plastered on his face melted into something more genuine as he faced you. “Hello, flower.”

Your already rosy cheeks flush more from the endearment and Yoongi chuckles. He used to tease you about your love for plants and wanted to give you a nickname related to it. Unfortunately, calling you ‘cactus’ just didn’t have that air of lovesickness that he was aiming for, so ‘flower’ would have to do.

You pull him into a hug and he grumbles for a moment, pretending to hate it. You know that he loves hugs, though, and you just laugh and hold him tighter. He can only hope you can’t tell how hard his heart was pounding.

When you pull away, he misses your warmth almost immediately. “How are you?” You grin. “Enjoying the party so far?”

He lets out a small laugh. “You know, I should be the one asking you that, birthday girl. Although, I am surprised you went for a party this year instead of the usual dinner.”

“Actually…” you pause, smiling sheepishly. “I didn’t want a party either. Jeongguk just thought it would be nice since it could double as a little celebration for my promotion as well.”

Ah. The promotion. Yoongi remembers when you had just graduated college, desperately trying to get into the industry you wanted. You used to cry over every rejection email, but now…  You were doing great, and he couldn’t be more proud of you. Regardless, he grins at your admission.

“Knew it.” He teases, and you mock grumble at him before smiling again, looking away. Meanwhile, Yoongi couldn’t take his eyes off of you. He could only pray that no one could tell he was giving you heart eyes.

“Babe!” Jeongguk’s voice cuts through the comfortable silence between you two. Yoongi can’t tell if it’s just his personal bias against the guy, but he was really fucking irritating. Add that to the fact that you used to call Yoongi ‘babe’ before Jeongguk started calling you that, and Yoongi was starting to get more than a little pissed. Another thing to add to the list of things Jeongguk had stolen from him.

But were you ever his to begin with? A voice in Yoongi’s mind whispers.

Shut up, he hisses back.

“Cake time!” Jeongguk calls out again, and you shoot Yoongi an apologetic grin as you leave his side and approach your golden retriever of a boyfriend.

People begin to gather around you as Jeongguk holds the cake for you with the candles lit up. You’re grinning, and while Yoongi doesn’t sing along, he is staring at you with the most lovesick look in his eyes that he’s sure if anyone were to see him, they would know.

His mind begins to drift as he imagines a world where he’s the one holding your cake. Maybe you would smear some icing on his cheek after blowing the candles out. Would you two be the absolutely cheesy couple everyone pretended to hate but were actually jealous of? Maybe. And you know what, Yoongi would actually love that. He would⁠—

He hears Jeongguk say your name, and when he focuses, Jeongguk is down on one knee and his heart falls.

“...you are the best thing to ever happen to me. You don’t just make me a better person, you make me want to be a better person for me. For you. I wake up in the morning and I want to cry because I feel so goddamn lucky that you chose me. Out of all the people in this universe, you chose me. You saw me, and you took care of me, and you loved me. You gave me the world, (Y/N), but I want to give you the universe.” Jeongguk pauses, and even from a distance, Yoongi can see that the younger man has tears in his eyes.

So does Yoongi. His ears are ringing, and all he can do is watch as Jeongguk asks the million dollar question:

“(Y/N), will you marry me?”

SIlence, and then:

“Yes!”

His heart shatters into a million pieces.

-

Min Yoongi was a coward, that much he knew. 

After five years of loving you silently (and multiple times of flirting with each other), he was done. Time to move on. It’s been half a decade, and he was never sure if you felt the same way. Maybe you did, but he didn’t want to risk losing you.

So he did the thing most people would do after deciding to move on: get absolutely shitfaced at the nearest bar.

Truth be told, even now, three and a half years later, he did not remember what happened that night. He assumes he had a one night stand, if the woman he woke up to was any evidence. 

What he did not expect was you barging into his apartment, demanding to see him because you needed to tell him⁠—

What you wanted to tell him, Yoongi would never know, because when you asked if the girl in the bathroom was his girlfriend, he had the stupid idea to lie and tell you that yes, she is my girlfriend. Just made it official last night.

He was too damn proud of himself being able to “move on” from you to see you deflate. In a span of seconds, you went from excited to the verge of tears. When you heard the bathroom door open, you hurriedly excused yourself and booked it out of his apartment.

What Yoongi didn’t know was that you were going to confess.

But as you power walk out of his apartment complex, you come to the conclusion, that maybe, just maybe, he’s just not into you. And you were merely boo boo the fool.

After that, texts between you and Yoongi were sparse. You stopped hanging out. You stopped sending each other memes at three in the morning. You just stopped… seeing each other.

By the time Yoongi pulled his head out of his ass and sucked it up, it had been a year, and you had a sparkly new boyfriend named Jeon Jeongguk.

-

Yoongi decided that this was, quite possibly, the worst year of his life. Nothing like watching the love of your life get engaged to someone else, and then be forced to watch her marry someone else months afterwards to really rub the salt in.

But then again, you aren’t Mrs. Jeon. Yet, anyways, Yoongi thinks bitterly. In less than twenty four hours, he will truly have lost you, and this time, there’s no getting you back.

And so, like the genius that he was, he decides to call you. In the middle of the night. To the local park. Why? Honestly, Yoongi had no idea. He just wanted, needed to see you one last time.

When you arrive, the park is silent. You look adorable, Yoongi thinks fondly, but even that innocent thought was enough to make tears well up in his eyes. God, he was so in love with you it hurt.

“(Y/N),” he begins once you’re close enough to hear. “I need to tell you something⁠—”

“Yoongi,” you whisper. You look pained, he notes.”Don’t⁠—”

“Don’t what?” He cuts you off, scoffing. The tears begin to fall. “Don’t say it? You don’t want me to tell you about how I’ve been in love with you my whole life? You don’t want me to tell you how much I wish it was me you’re marrying tomorrow?” He wipes at his tears angrily. “What do you want me to do?” 

He breathes in raggedly, looking up to the sky in desperation. When he looks back at you, your heart breaks for him.

“Flower, I can’t.” He begs. “I can’t let you go. I can’t lose you. Not again. Please⁠—” A sob tears through his throat. “I love you.”

He feels your hands cup his face, wiping at the wetness on his skin. He’s almost grateful that he can’t see you through his tears, because he knows you’re crying too. He hated seeing you cry.

“Yoongi,” you say softly. “I love you too, but we can’t. We’ve been dancing around this for almost a decade, babe. Our time has passed, Yoongi⁠⁠.” Your hands have moved, one on his waist and another on the back of his neck. When he sees your tears, he finally breaks. He collapses into your arms, sobbing, grasping at you desperately. 

When you speak next, your voice is muffled as you comb through his hair with one hand and pull him closer with the other. “I will always love you, Yoongi. Always.” You say fiercely, surely, and Yoongi almost wants to believe you. “But I love Jeongguk too. He…” You pause, trying to find the right words. “He’s the one for me.” You admit, and Yoongi hates it so much because you were the one for him. 

The two of you slowly sink onto the ground, with your arms still around him as he cries. For losing you, for being too late, and for what could have been. His sobs echo in the empty park and you cry with him.

When his sobs die down and his breathing gets calmer, he pulls away from your embrace. When your arms fall to the sides, he moves closer to you, pressing his forehead to yours, eyes closed. “I love you,” he whispers, and he’s so close you can feel his breath on your face. “I will always love you.”

When your eyes flutter open, his eyes meet yours. 

Around you, the snow begins to fall. 

“I…” You breathe out. “I should go. Jeongguk’s waiting for me at home.”

He nods slowly. “Okay,” he whispers. “Okay. Get home safely.”

You nod and stand up, offering a hand. He shakes his head and stands up on his own.

No words are said.

You nod, and turn to leave. When your figure disappears into the night, Yoongi lets his tears fall once more.

“Goodbye, flower,” he whispers into the night. The wind blows.

I love you.

#btsghostie #ficswithluv #bts yoongi #bts suga #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #min yoongi angst #min yoongi fluff #suga x reader #suga x you #suga angst #suga fluff #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook angst #jeon jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic

[just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot]

Soulmate September - Day 6

Day 6 - When your soulmate is injured you will experience pain in that area

Pairing(s): Analoceitmus [ambiguous, can be read romantic or platonic, or a mix], QPR Royality 

TWs: Injury mention, swearing, Remus being Remus near the end 

–

“I’m going to sue him.”, Logan hissed, attempting to sit up in his hospital bed, “Soulmate or not, how can one man possibly be so irresponsible?! I’m definitely going to sue him.”

He winced as he tried to get comfy, but the tough mattress and uncomfortable bunching of the sheets said suffer. 

And boy, was he. 

Logan Sanders was an immaculate, careful man. Had been since he was a child. A neat and tidy lad who - upon learning of the rules of fate - made it his utmost mission to spare his soulmate any pain or anguish for as long as he could manage. 

His soulmate, however, didn’t seem to share that sentiment.

From childhood, Logan found himself with sudden knee pains from scrapes he never fell for, abrasions he had caused no friction to gain, and the occasional shoulder or back pain as if he’d been pushed over when he was standing perfectly upright. At least the universe had decided to spare humanity the anguish of leaving soulmates with the physical injuries that came with the pain, but it was only a minor comfort.

Logan couldn’t say he hadn’t expected a lot of rough and tumble from his soulmate after his elementary school years, but really; a broken leg, facial burns, and a splintered forearm? “This is absolute bullshit.”, he bitterly muttered, “Barely hours apart! How is that even possible?!”

His ranting went ignored by the nurse who came to administer his medication; thankfully science had worked out a wonderful little clear pill that could banish the pain from particularly debilitating soulmate pains. The little bastards were expensive - the true pain is always capitalism within the medical world -  but Logan’s job paid handsomely. Say what you will about computer nerds and whatnot, but programming for the right people lets you make some seriously high end bread. None of that homemade farmer’s market shit.

Unfortunately, he’d have to wait about a week for his pains to ebb gently into nothingness until the klutz of a man fate paired him with got into MORE trouble. Thus Logan couldn’t get back to his work. His leg was, for all intents and purposes, broken so the staff couldn’t let him go home. He couldn’t simply drive home himself either, his splintered forearm saw to that. And Logan couldn’t even ask his roommate Emile to bring him his work laptop to try and keep his workload at bay, his left eye was too cloudy and painful to concentrate on a screen. 

Yes; his soulmate BETTER be paying his hospital bills.

Realisation struck Logan; his soulmate is obviously just as injured, ergo it’s a high probability that he could be somewhere within the hospital too. Using his good hand to reach for a pen, and absolutely dreading adding to his pain, Logan poked the tip into his good arm, wincing as he first attempted to contact them with simple morse code, “My/ Name/ Is/ Logan. Who/ Are/ You?”

He waited for a response, fearing he would have to start scratching his name onto his arm when he felt the little jabs in response,  “Janus.” Great. He FINALLY had a name to put on the lawsuit. Logan, already wincing at the bee-sting pain from the pen, he jabbed out another message,

“Are/ You/ Currently/ Staying/ At/ Stokes/ General/ Hospital?”

The reply came cryptically,

“Yes / I / -”

Logan wasn’t sure why his soulmate had suddenly stopped replying. Had a nurse confiscated whatever his soulmate was using to poke himself? Either way, Logan would have to be content with the knowledge his soulmate was at least close by. He truly had no idea how close until two very disgruntled voices were within earshot of his room door,

“Brilliant, I just adore being ousted from my comfortable bed so I could spend even longer looking at your delightful face.”

“Oh, like you’re the victim here, asshole! You’re the one stabbing yourself and fucking up my unbroken arm!”

Logan watched them both argue outside of his room door. Both men were sporting similar injuries to his own; the first one that had spoken, refined looking gentleman with sharp features and neat blonde hair, had the left side of his face bandaged heavily. Meanwhile the other man, sporting raven hair and eye bags that could carry a month’s worth of groceries, was fitted with a cast on his left forearm. Both of them were on crutches, though Logan couldn’t see if either had a genuine cast.

“Ahem. Gentlemen?”

Logan called to them, watching as both turned to meet his gaze. He lifted the pen in his hand and asked, “I take it one of you is Janus?”

The man with the bandages over his eye, Janus, nodded, “That would be me.”

The man with the broken arm looked confused, “Wait, so, you’re the one who was ramming a pen into their arm? Damn.”, he turned, begrudgingly to the first man, “I guess I owe you an apology then.”

“Really you needn’t-”

“Then I shan’t.”

Janus glared at the other man’s snark, but Logan found it rather delightful. Clearing his throat once more, he breached the topic, “I take it that means we three are soulmates?”

“Four.”

Logan and Janus looked to the third man as he explained, “Your leg doesn’t have a proper cast on it, this asshole doesn’t have one either,”, Janus gifted the man a half glare and a middle finger before he continued, “And since I don’t have one, it’s pretty obvious there’s a fourth musketeer.”

Fair to say, Logan was impressed, even Janus was hiding the tiniest hint of admiration as he retorted, “And are we to call you Sherlock or D’artagnan?”

The man rolled his eyes, “Ha ha, fuck you. My name’s-”

“VIRGIL!!”

The man, Virgil, nearly lept out of his skin, jerking his arm and giving the three of them a jolt of pain. Logan felt relieved he’d only have to put up with it for a few more days once the medicine took effect. 

In the doorway stood a man who could only be described as unnecessarily handsome, clad in a burgundy bomber jacket and a Nightmare Before Christmas shirt that seemed out of place on someone who stood poised like the protagonist of a romance anime. Logan noted he and Janus both checked to see if his leg was broken; good to know they had similar tastes even if the man’s lack of a cast dashed their hopes. Said handsome man made a beeline for Virgil, only to receive a swat and a motion to back off, 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Princey, you nearly gave me a heart attack!!!”, Virgil hissed and took a deep breath. ‘Princey’ let out a fond huff, “You should be so lucky, Bring Me The Depression, do you know how worried Pat and I were when we couldn’t find you!? This, dearest Emo Nightmare, is karma at its finest-!”

“Yeah, yeah, shut up, Roman. Where’s Pat? He’s gonna wanna meet my soulmates.”

Roman blinked, finally registering Logan and Janus just watching the two of them reunite. Clearing his throat, Logan made the introductions, “I’m Logan Sanders, this gentleman is-”

“Janus Delgado. Charmed I’m sure.”, Janus butt in, “Really, Logan, I can introduce myself. Unlike some people.”

Virgil flipped him off just in time for Roman to frown in confusion, “And…. you’re all sure you’re soulmates? I mean, no offense but you don’t...”, he picked his words carefully, his face contorting at the effort, “....act like soulmates?”

The three of them looked between one another and shrugged, “To be perfectly fair - Roman, yes? - we have all literally just met today under…. Less than optimal circumstances. I doubt you and your soulmate, assuming you’ve found them, hit it off instantly.”

Roman blinked, “Kind of, we didn’t have any problems like this, quite honestly...”, he almost sounded guilty at that notion, “The worst we have to deal with is his cat allergies-”

Out in the hallway, a couple of nurses hurriedly walked past and allowed another man into the room who immediately lit up at the sight of Roman and Virgil, “There you both are!!! I got held up at the vending machine, but when I came back you were both gone!”

“Patton! How glad I am to see you once more!”, Roman beamed, pulling the taller man into a hug and planting a dramatic kiss upon his cheek, to which Logan, Janus, and Virgil simultaneously met with an ‘ugh’. Perhaps they were more alike than they first assumed. 

Patton turned to meet Janus and Logan’s gaze, looking back to Virgil who explained, “They’re two of my soulmates, Pat.”

For a moment, the tall excitable ball of sunshine looked like he was about to pop with joy when Roman held up a hand to interject, “Pardon me, but ‘two of’?”, and cast his confusion towards Virgil who explained, “Our last soulmate has a broken leg, it’s the only injury we can’t account for.”

Patton and Roman shared a momentary look, drawing Logan’s attention, “Roman? Patton? Are you both alright?”. The two seemed to play eye contact rock-paper-scissors to decide who would answer, with Roman losing apparently.

“When exactly did you feel the pain in your leg?”

“Couple hours ago” “Around three?” “Precisely 3:27 pm.”

Came the chorus of answers. Janus and Virgil both shot Logan a look, to which he quietly murmured, “It never hurts to provide a little extra clarity.”

“Apparently so,”, Janus began, before shifting his partial gaze to the couple, “So, are you lovebirds-”

“Qpp’s.”, Patton corrected quietly, to which, Janus did apologise, “Pardon me. So, are you queer platonic saps going to clue us in to why exactly you asked us such a specific question?”

Roman sighed, “I ask because my brother, Remus, broke his leg at that exact same time today. Pat and I were going to visit him right after we’d checked in with Virgil.”

The three soulmates shared a collective look, but the first one to pipe up was Virgil, “You have a brother?! Why am I only finding this out now, I’ve known you for 12 fucking years, Roman! What the fuck!?”

Logan exasperatedly ran a hand down his face as he tried to maneuver himself out of his bed and into one of the hospital’s wheelchairs, Janus offering a hand to him, “Virgil, as much as I would love to listen to you and Roman bicker back and forth, could we possibly save such trivialities for after we meet our fourth soulmate?”

This time Patton piped up, “Oh, um, you may not want to do that just yet-”

As if on cue, roughly six or seven medical staff rushed by, causing Patton and Roman to quickly look around the doorway, only to turn back to the others, “Well, no time like the present. Patton, if you help Virgil, I’ll help Janus once Logan can shimmy into that wheelchair.”, Roman assigned as he offered an arm for Logan to hold onto while he got himself in the chair. Noting the context clues, Logan was rightfully worried, especially as he felt a new pain in his hand, only to note that while Roman and Patton helped them move, Virgil and Janus seemed to be experiencing more pain in their legs than before. In the moment, Logan did feel a little bad that the pill he’d taken hours earlier was saving him from too much additional pain. Approaching the hospital room the medical staff had gathered within, the group were greeted with a wild scene.

A scruffy man strikingly similar in looks to Roman - albeit sporting a thin moustache and silver hair streak - wearing a leg cast was holding a crutch in one hand and an honest to god butterfly knife in the other, standing atop his hospital bed, raving like a lunatic and gesturing frantically to an empty space in the room,

“NOW WILL SOMEBODY FINALLY LET ME OUT OF HERE?! ME AND THIS BEAR WANNA GO CATCH HORNY FISH AND SHIT IN THE WOODS!!” 

Charming. 

Logan glanced over at Patton and Roman, the question clear on his face just like their answer. That was Remus alright. He watched Roman talk with a nurse trying to calm Remus, “We gave him some painkillers to ease his leg pains, but it shouldn’t be affecting him this much!”

“Oh, Remus has always been like this with medication, I should’ve warned the nursing staff.”, he groaned, “But that doesn’t explain-”

“He must’ve pushed the blue button behind his bed,”, Logan sighed, already anticipating Roman’s question, “The medical staff likely assumed Remus was coding and thus went into action. That’s why they’re here right now.”

Roman’s expression confirmed that was indeed going to be his question. As Roman went to help the nurses tranquilise Remus’ wild flailing, and while his other two soulmates stood by to watch the chaos - in varying degrees of worry and strange admiration bordering on attraction for his disregard for social norms - Logan tried to come to terms with the facts.

He had three very different soulmates, and by the looks of it? He’d have to get used to frequent hospital stays….

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

This one’s probably on the weirder side, but uh, yeah, I hope it’s still a good read! [Also sorry these have been a little late lately TTvTT] @tsshipmonth2020 Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account @cateye-glasses

#analoceitmus #logan sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #royality #qpr!royality #roman sanders #patton sanders #my fics #fanfics #tsshipmonth2020 #soulmate september #this one just went wild #i dunno what to tell you #reads a little more like analogical and demus if i think about it #but whatever it was fun

[crescentsteel]

Just Friends - Part 5

plot: fubu set up with Kuroo as a university student, model fem reader  warnings: a bit angsty I guess? word count: 5100

A/N: - Thank you so much for those who reblogged every...freaking...chapter I-  - Special thanks to @cherryonigiri​ for the shoutout last week. ur too kind :( - I’ve been writing every single night since Chapter 1, and I can feel the burnout coming. So it might (MIGHT) take longer to finish the next one.  - Should I do a taglist or sumthin? I remember someone asking before but didn’t go through it cause I don’t think a lot are interested lol

Part 4 | Part 6 | m.list

“We got the shots. Thanks everyone!” The creative director, Mitsuki, wraps up the shoot. ‘Thank God,’ you thought. You head to the dressing room and change into your own clothes.

Mitsuki goes to you after you change. You’ve worked with her several times since she’s well-known in the industry. You like her because he’s approachable and is easy to work with. You often share nonwork-related conversation during shoots.

“You look dreadful. What happened to you?”

She just had to remind you that you barely slept. You were tossing and turning trying to not think about last night’s events. You only had two hours of sleep and you exist right now only because of caffeine. Although, your eyes sting and you can feel a headache coming. Still, you’re thankful for today’s work. Because of it, you’re preoccupied with something else other than him.

“Rough night.” You answer lifelessly.

“Oooh, do tell,” she looks at you meaningfully, hoping for any juicy story you might be holding. Unfortunately for her, it’s not something you’re ready to share with anyone.

“Next time, Mitsuki.” You give her an apologetic smile and go to your car.

Once on the driver’s seat, you check your phone for any text message. No new messages. Disappointment hits you. You don’t know what you’re expecting exactly, but you just want to hear from him. He’d pester you when you don’t want him to, but now that you do, he doesn’t.

You throw your head back at your seat. Kuroo has definitely screwed you beyond his bed. This is so unlike you.

If you need something, you get it yourself. That’s how you are and what you should be doing. You can no longer ignore your feelings and expect them to go away. You doubt you’ll be sleeping with him again anyways, given your current state.

You’ve never had this set-up with anyone else but you’re pretty sure that not one party should develop any romantic feelings. You need to let him know that you are confused and you’re misinterpreting his actions recently. You don’t know how things will turn out, but at least you’ll get some clarity as to what you two are. Rattling your brains out won’t give you an answer, talking to him would. He’ll probably figure out what you feel for him even if you don’t spell it out.

You’ve never confessed to anyone, you’ve always been on the receiving end. To be honest, you don’t want to. But to hell with your pride if you can’t function properly because of it.

With your mind made up, you send him a message.

‘Hey. Wanna meet tonight? I need to tell you something.’

–

He arrives at the bar where you first met. That’s where you told him to be. He goes to the counter and is deciding what he’ll have before you show up.

He went a little earlier than what you said in your text. He’s doing nothing anyways and he couldn’t stay still. You made it seem important. Maybe it was about last night.

When you let him in your place, he was really pleased. He thought you could continue where you left off. You were tense back on the rooftop, but he considered it was because of the open space. But when it was only the two of you, you were more flustered. It was so cute actually. You’re always so feisty in and out of bed, but last night you looked timid and vulnerable even more than you did when he went to your university.

Since when were you so threatened by him? There’s no need to be. It’s not like you like him or somethin.

As if. He’s already lucky enough to be banging you, he won’t kid himself into thinking you like him.

…

But what if you do? On the slight chance that that’s what you’re gonna tell him, how should he respond? He hasn’t really thought of it. You’re always so guarded and seem like you’re in only for the fun as well. That was the case until you’ve been spending a lot of time without actually fucking. You slowly filled him in the gaps of who you are as a person and boy, does he like you a lot. Even Kenma does, to the point that Kenma’s been hinting that you two should date. He usually dismisses it as you and him are only ‘good’ friends. Although he’s positive that Kenma’s not buying that shit. Kenma probably knows what’s going between you two.

Also, you’re the only girl he’s shagged exclusively for this long. Usually, this set-up is good for him only for a month or two tops. It’s been more or less 6 months already with you, but it’s never boring, sex or not. He’s always looking forward to seeing you. He likes it when you always have a quick-witted counter to his provocation. He finds it adorable when you let him take care of you. Your face when you blush is just too fucking precious. It warms him up when he sees you genuinely smiling. He won’t mind at all if you continue like this longer.

Ah shit.

“Glass of whiskey,” he tells the bartender. He immediately drinks the liquor, the burn on his throat soothing the riot going on on his head.

It sounded like he’s way past just liking you. He takes another sip at his own frustration. He shouldn’t be thinking this hard. It was just a what-if situation anyway. You probably don’t like him that way, and now he’s upset at the conclusion he came up with.

It’s bad to have feelings for you. First, he doesn’t know how you feel about him. If he lets you know that he does, you might cut him off from the ‘benefits’ of your friendship. Your chemistry in bed is too good to let go. Second, let’s say you do like him, is he really sure of what he’s feeling? Isn’t it just because you’ve been so physically intimate for so long that he’s mixing it up as something remotely close to love? He doesn’t want a half-baked relationship if you both decide to take things seriously.

“Need some company?”

A pretty blonde girl sits beside him. Pretty, but nowhere near as pretty as you are. He checks his phone for the time and if there’s any message from you.

45 minutes till your said meet up time. He takes his drink and ushers the blondie to a standing table. The conversation he shares with her is casual, at first at least. After a few minutes, she’s already batting her eyes at him and bites her lip every now and then. Her touch on his arms lingers when she playfully slaps his biceps.

All too easy. He’s not even trying.

Since the opportunity is here, guess he’ll go for it. He’s definitely not sleeping with this blondie, but a 'lil playtime before you arrive won’t hurt. Maybe that would clear up the confusion in his head.

Alright, blondie. Whatever she’s rambling about, time to shut up. He grabs her shoulders and goes for her lips. She pulls him closer by putting her arms around his neck. She lets out a soft moan in the kiss.

A few seconds, but still nothing. He has to try harder. He grabs her ass to feel her more, to excite himself, to get rid of unwanted thoughts on his head. He closed his eyes shut and focused on the body that he’s holding at this moment.

‘Congratulations, Kuroo.’

Scenes from last night rushed in his head. Your smile. Your lips against his. The warmth of your body succumbed to him.

He can’t do this.

He harshly pulls himself away from the girl. He tastes something vile in his throat that doesn’t resemble anything close to the whiskey he’s having. It’s horrible. He’s disgusted with himself. All he could think about is you. It doesn’t feel right with someone else. It should be you he’s holding.

He thought himself smart, but right now he’s one hundred percent sure that he’s being a fucking idiot. How could he think that this nobody of a lady can take you off his mind? How dare he touch someone else right before meeting you?

“What’s wrong?” She whines while her eyes are pleading for him to continue. He smiles sourly.

“Sorry, but I’m actually with someone.” The blondie’s face got all scrunched up.

“Douchebag,” she mutters as she walks away. And that he is, a total douchebag.

He goes back to the counter and orders himself another round. Looks like he needs to tell you something as well.

–

You came just a tad bit early. You managed to take a nap, but you woke up before the alarm set off. You’re still restless, but you feel a bit better than this morning. You decided to meet Kuroo at the bar where you first met. Weird place to talk, but you don’t wanna come off as too serious about it. You want it to be as casual as possible, as casual as confessing could be. Where could be more casual than the place where you first hooked up?

You can’t decide if that was genius of you or plain moronic, but you go with it anyway.

You’ve already pep talked yourself while driving. You know the words to say. You’ve rehearsed them in your head. You’re ready.

Right when you enter the bar, you start feeling queasy. Can you really do this? You go to the restroom to clear your head. If you go to your car, you might just back off and go home.

You look at yourself in the mirror. There’s no alcohol in your system but you’re flushed already.

“Oops, sorry.” It’s a drunk girl who’s now giggling at her clumsiness. She stops when she looks at your face. “Oh deaaaar, you look like you’ve had tsu many. Yer so red. You okaaay?” She seems really concerned, but you can’t help but be amused. She’s slurring way too much. She worries for a stranger getting too drunk when she, herself, has probably had too many already.

You snigger. “Yes, I am. Are you?” You throw back the concern she just gave you. She cackles at your question. “I donut know. Am I?” It’s contagious. Being anxious about your plans tonight, you’re more susceptible to humor. A second later and you’re laughing as well.

“Um. Thank you,” you smile at her. She just eased up your nerves without even knowing it. You exit the comfort room.

You try to find a comfortable place to seat yourself when you see Kuroo talking with a blonde girl. He doesn’t look interested at all, but you notice her touching him flirtatiously. You don’t do anything. Why should you? That’s up to Kuroo. Any moment now and he should be shoving her away. He’s meeting you after all.

You keep watching and waiting, until he puts his drink on the table and does the complete opposite of what you’re expecting. Your feet stay planted on the ground as everything unfolds right before your eyes, everything getting worse as seconds tick by. They’re basically clinging onto each other with her arms around him and his hands on her waist, all while engaged in intense lip-locking. He looks really into it. His hands travel down to the girl’s butt, and that’s about it for you.

You turn on your heels and make your way to the door. You feel like actually throwing up. Not only that, you’re suffocating as well. The neon lights make you dizzy. The music makes your ears ring. Every damn thing about this place hurts.

“Watch it!” you hear someone say, but you ignore it. You’ve been bumping into people while you scamper your way to the exit. You don’t care. You need to get out of here fast. You can’t stand it.

The exit is just a foot away. You extend your hand at the doorknob and hurl your body to make it outside. The fresh air was piercing against your lungs, reminding you how much of a reality was the scene you just witnessed. The relief you’re expecting and longing for doesn’t come.

Sadly, you can’t just stand there while people are passing you by as they enter the place. You need to go.

Each step you take is heavy. Each step vibrates through your whole body. You couldn’t process anything. The only thing you know is you want to go home. You want to be alone. You want to scream.

“Y.n.?”

Perfect. Just perfect. The flood of emotions surge through you when you see Kenma. What’s he even doing here?

“Have you seen Kuroo?” He says something after but you can only make out certain words.

Keys. Meet. Okay.

You want to speak but your throat hurts. You can feel your whole body shaking at how hard you’re trying to keep it together.

“What did you s-s-s…” You can’t finish your sentence. You bite your lip so hard that you taste blood. That would be better than you breaking down in public. Still, you can already feel tears in the corners of your eyes. One more word and you’ll probably lose it.

Kenma moves closer to you, studying your face. You try to hide it, but you know that anyone with two functional eyes can see that you’re in pain. He looks around, eyeing for a place where you can talk in private.

“Did you bring your car?” You only nod once. You don’t need to say anything for him to follow the direction you’re heading at. You keep your breaths short for you fear that an impeding sob might escape.

You both get in the back seat.

When the doors shut, you throw your head back to the seat.

“Y.n., what happened?” You face him with blurred vision from the tears you held. He’s never been expressive, so when you see intense worry on his face, you crumble.

You cover your mouth with trembling hands to tone down your screeching sobs. You weren’t aware that you could get hurt this much. The scene you just witnessed keeps replaying in your head. It hurts. It hurts. You want it to stop, but it doesn't.

You feel a hand patting your head. It was oddly comforting.

“I fell for him,” your voice strained from how hard you cried. You don’t want to get into the details of how last night was enchanting for you, how he made you feel things no else had. How special he made you feel. You even thought that there was a chance that he sees you more than the ‘friend’ you are.

Kenma’s expression remains the same. He must’ve known already. Were you that obvious? Were you so easy to read? If he knows, does Kuroo know too?

He stays silent, waiting for what comes after what you just said.

“I saw him with someone else inside.”

“Maybe it’s just someone he knows.”

Someone he knows, huh? Wasn’t that how you two started? There at that bar, cocktail in your hand, his lips on your neck. Tonight isn’t any different, except it was not you he’s holding.

“You should talk to him, y.n. I think he feels the same to you.” An empty laugh erupts from you. It was bitter and pathetic. Like you.

“You were right before. We aren’t just friends. We are fuck buddies above all. That’s why he likes me. I’m a convenient lay for him.”

Another wave of sadness comes. You feel the warm streaks of liquid in your cheeks again. You let it trickle down your face.

That’s how much of a real relationship you can get from Kuroo. Pretense of friends while letting yourselves get off to each other. At the end of the day, you weren’t his and he wasn’t yours to keep. You could easily replace each other. Let someone else warm your beds.

All this time, you haven’t slept with anyone else. You’re satisfied with just him. You thought it was an unspoken agreement that it would only be you two. Even if casual, you thought it was exclusive. But that might not be the case. Tonight was proof that you could easily be replaced. Or worse, you could just be one of them.

Now you have another emotion added to your tray of feelings. You’re furious. He could’ve at least told you that you were having sex with other women. You saw him as a friend. If he was decent enough, he should’ve at least told you that and let you decide if you still want to keep your arrangement.

Being friends with benefits sucks big time. You shouldn’t have done this. You were confident that you could handle it. Obviously, you thought wrong. Falling stupidly in love with Kuroo is downright deplorable.

“Go back inside y.n. It might not be what you think it is.”

“I was going to confess tonight, you know. I was the one who asked him to meet. Only to find him canoodling with some bimbo while groping her ass. Tell me Kenma, is it not what it is?”

You see Kenma squirm on his seat. “What the heck is he doing?” He whispers while his eyes dart to the bar you just came from.

You sniff and wipe your face with the hem of your shirt. “Screw him,” you say.

Kenma presses his lips together, as if trying to hold back something he wants to say. You didn’t want to, but you figure it out anyways.

“But I already did, didn’t I?”

Kenma smiles apologetically. “Sorry.”

“Do you want me to hit Kuroo and stuff?” he adds.

You imagine Kenma throwing Kuroo’s PS4 at him, which makes you giggle. You’d be willing to pay big time to see that happen.

“Thanks, Kenma. You didn’t have to be here, but you are.”

You’ve never had too many friends from your upbringing. Sure you hang out with people, and there were really fun times. But no one was there when you felt lonely. You got used to it. You didn’t know that it was this relieving to have someone just actually be there.

“But please, no matter what. Never tell him you saw me.”

“But what if he asks?”

“I was never here.”

He nods.

“Will you be okay?”

“Somehow... You should go, Kenma. I’ve kept you long enough.”

You both exit your car at the same time. Before you move to the driver’s seat, you call Kenma.

“I’d appreciate it if you accidentally hit him with a controller.” You put air quotes on ‘accidentally’. “Maybe twice or thrice. I’ll replace it when it breaks,” you add. Kenma grins the widest you’ve seen him do.

“You’re funny, y.n. Kuroo is dumb.”

You smile faintly. “Thanks, Kenma. Really.”

–

It’s been months since you’ve left Japan. Now you’re back. You have mixed feelings as you find yourself in the familiar airport terminal. You look at the gate across you. That was exactly where you exited before, with your eyes swollen and your heart broken.

You left because it was too much for you. You realized how spoiled you were in life, always getting what you wanted. You didn’t have any relationship you could call authentic, but in the same way, you had nothing to lose. No friendship fights, no drifting aparts, nothing. So when you fell for someone who wasn’t yours to keep, it tore you in ways you weren’t cognizant of.

You cut him out after that certain night in the bar. You blocked his number, his social media accounts, and warned the staff in your condo to not let anyone visit. You were scared that if he reached out, you would yield to him. Because despite the misery he brought, you missed him. But you wouldn’t allow yourself to do that. You wouldn’t continue to be his play thing while sinking deeper into that hell hole of loving him.

That’s why you had to leave. But before you did, you gave in one last time to your wretched feelings. You unblocked his number and texted him.

“What I really wanted to tell you the other night was I’m leaving. Want to meet before my flight?”

You didn’t know what you wanted back then. Parting sex or for him to stop you?

It didn’t matter though. Since he did not show up, much less even replied.

For some reason, you felt like letting Kenma know that you were leaving. He was there when you were broken, and in a way, he's your friend too. You leave him a brief goodbye message and never let Kuroo know the details of your disappearance.

Then you boarded the plane with crushed hopes and a shattered ego.

That time, you’ve never been more grateful that you came from a privileged family. You left your studies behind and flew to the U.S. There, you continued your modeling career. You began taking it seriously. You were no longer picky - big or small project, you accepted it.

You came back because several Japanese brands wanted you as their model. You obliged of course. You liked being busy and you believe you’re good at what you do.

Your phone reminder about tonight’s event goes off, speaking of which. The shoe brand you worked with in the US is launching their line in Japan. They just made you their official Japanese brand ambassador.

No rest for you. Just how you wanted it.

–

The MSBY members line up when they arrive at the place. Media immediately catches up with cameras all over them.

“Hey hey heeeeey!” Bokuto yells eagerly to the photographers.

Atsumu is doing his signature fist in the air pose before he serves.

Hinata is smiling ear to ear with his hand on his head, not knowing how to pose for the media. Sakusa, on the other hand, has his hands on his pockets with no expression on his face.

Kuroo might have made a wrong decision in letting Sakusa be the fourth person to attend. He should’ve chosen someone more camera-friendly from their roster. Oh well. What’s done is done. What’s important is he got to sign a deal with the brand to sponsor MSBY.

When he graduated, he immediately got accepted at the Japanese Volleyball Association, Sports Promotion Division. It’s just as he wanted, to make use of his education and still be involved with the sport that he loves.

Part of tonight’s job is going around and greeting the Marketing staff of the brand. He engages in small talk and thanks them for the opportunity. The event is simple, nothing too fancy. It’s a bit dull for his taste, probably because the shoe line is all-encompassing - lifestyle, sports, formal wear. Hence, the lack of a specific theme.

After the obligatory chatters, he goes back to where he left the guys, but finds not one of them there. Damn it.

One thing he likes about his job is he got to reconnect with several people from his high school who are now part of the Japanese pro teams. The drawback is that sometimes he has to handle them, especially at events like this. He knows Bokuto and Hinata all too well, so he knows how to manage the two. However, with Miya and Kiyoomi in the fray, it’s a different ball game. Knowing how chaotic the four can get, he picks up the pace.

‘For Christ’s sake, they better not be fucking around.’ He says in his head while his eyes search for any of the four.

Unknown to Kuroo, Atsumu is strolling around the area with Sakusa after the photographers had their fill of them. He suddenly stops and fixates his gaze on something that catches his interest. “Omi-kun. Imma introduce myself to that chick over there. Couldja not tell Kuroo-san?”

Sakusa looks at the direction Atsumu’s looking at. When he sees the subject of interest, he scowls. He’s already sure that Atsumu’s about to make a move on the girl he just eyed. “Don’t. Technically, we’re at work.”

It falls on deaf ears. Atsumu waves nonchalantly as he walks away from him. He’s gonna get that hot chick’s number and no one’s stopping him.

“Miya-san! We were looking for you.” Hinata suddenly appears. Atsumu doesn’t notice him approaching because his attention is on the girl.

“Yeah, Tsum-tsum. Where did you go?” Atsumu glares at Bokuto. “Don’t call me that in public!” he says angrily in hushed tones. He looks around to see if anyone heard, then lets out a frustrated sigh.

“Oh look. There’s a cute lady!” Hinata says with excitement. Bokuto’s eyes go after where Hinata is looking at. “Woah! Let’s go greet her?” Bokuto asks Hinata enthusiastically. Hinata nods with the same eagerness.

Atsumu grits his teeth. “What the hell?! I saw her first!”

“So? We can all say hi.” Bokuto retorts innocently. Atsumu wants to snap at Bokuto’s lack of ability to take a hint. “Let’s go, Hinata!” Hinata and Bokuto march towards the girl. Atsumu walks briskly to catch up to the two.

“There’s no way you two are going before me” he says while getting a step ahead of them.

Sakusa looks at the three dunces who’s now hogging the poor girl. Even at a distance, he can hear their voices. He already knows that Kuroo will be smacking them if he sees them, including him, despite not being involved in their ruckus. He should pacify them before they do something more embarrassing.

He goes to where they are and grabs Bokuto’s shoulder. “Hey. Cut it out.”

“Oh, btw. This is Omi-kun. You should see him warm up. His wrists are so cool! But freaky.”

Sakusa’s eye twitches. It’s not his intention to be introduced, and the way Bokuto did it is not to his liking.

He looks at the girl who looks like she’s just putting up with them. “You’re bothering her.” He says, reprimanding.

Atsumu feels a firm grip on his shoulders. Must be Sakusa on his grill instead since he couldn’t faze Bokuto. Atsumu’s temper is seething at how he’s persistently getting cockblocked tonight. “Fuck off, Omi-kun.” he hisses under his breath.

“Excuse me?”

Atsumu freezes when he recognizes the voice. He slowly looks at who the voice came from, hoping that he was wrong. Very unfortunately for Atsumu, he was dead on. He stands up straight and looks somewhere else. The other three notices how he suddenly stops talking. When they look at him, they see Kuroo instead, his eyes in crescent slits and a sinister smile creeping on his face. They stop muddling around and stand up straight at the same time, joining Atsumu like a bunch of middle schoolers being discplined.

“Come on now, boys.” Kuroo says with hidden threat on his voice. He’s never putting these four in the same campaign again. He’s the same age as them, but he feels like he’s losing his youth when he’s working with these four oafs. He has to always step it up or else they’re all going to get in trouble. He sighs.

He turns to the girl.

“I’m so sorry about th-”

He blinks a few times to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. But he can’t be wrong. He can never mistake you as someone else. Everything about you is etched in his brain.

His eyes roam all over you, letting himself be captivated by you again - your alluring eyes, your soft lips, your breasts that fit just right in his hands, your legs that wrapped around his back when you felt too good.

It really is you in the flesh. You, who suddenly vanished and left him hanging right when he realized that he wanted more than what your friendship offered.

He had no idea what happened. That night when you said you were going to meet him, you did not show up. Not a text or call to let him know why, even the days after. But he let it slide. He thought maybe it was just your usual disappearing act. You did disappear though. For good.

A lot of times, he still thinks about a particular day. He stayed up all night drinking and playing games and when he woke up, he saw one text from you. He’s never been that excited just from one text. At last, you decided to show up again. His excitement quickly turned to panic when he read it.

“…I’m leaving. Wanna meet before my flight?”

A text that was sent hours earlier when he was still out of it. What if he woke up earlier? What if he read your text and met with you? What difference would that have made?

Until now, it’s still on his mind how he frantically pressed his phone keys and called you back as many times as he could, only to get a “cannot be reached” prompt every time. He tried searching for you but he couldn’t. Your social media accounts were all gone. Since he did not know anyone in your life, there was no one to ask. He thought you both had a chance, but in a snap, you were gone from his life.

It stung more than he wanted to admit. He eventually gave up. He wouldn't be able to find someone who doesn’t want to be found. Yet, you’re here, in front of him. Just a few steps and he can hold you.

Seeing you still as beautiful as he remembers, brings a familiar tug in his chest that he’s not sure he likes.

“Kuroo, if you wanted to say hi too, just say so.” Bokuto complains, noticing how he’s ogling at you as well. He notices how the other three are frowning at him as well.

He scoffs. These boys have no fucking clue that what he had in mind was more than meagerly saying hi.

“Yea, yea. My bad.” He puts his hands mid-air and pins a phony smile on his face. He turns to you and puts his hands on his pockets.

“Sorry about them.” You open your mouth to say something but your gaze drifts to the four Jackals who are looking at both of you. Instead, you smile politely and bow. What a fake-ass personality.

He’s at work and there shouldn’t be any monkey business, but he can’t resist the urge. He’s not having this polite facade you’re pulling right now. He hasn’t seen you in months. He needs to see the real you. He moves closer. You falter and take one step back. Too bad for you, his strides are longer. Just one step and you’re already within his grasp. Finally. He tucks your hair behind your ear, his touch lingering on your jaw.

“How’re you, kitten?” He says a bit too loud than he wanted.

Your eyes become wide as saucers with crimson specks dusting your cheeks. He takes delight at the sight. You look exactly as you did on that rooftop.

 Part 4 | Part 6 | m.list

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fanfiction #kuroo testuro #kuroo x reader #Kuroo Tetsurou #kuroo x you #kuroo tetsuro angst #kuroo #kuroo x female reader #kuroo angst

[queenjunoking]

Wolf Taming Pt 49

CW: Noncon - Petplay

I heard the whir of the gears as the arm started to move. Despite my convention, I didn't move. It wasn’t the gear that solidified my status. It wasn’t even being locked in this device or giving up the hopeless attempt at running a few moments ago.

It was taking this first step. Taking this step meant that I was willingly going along with what they wanted. I had made compromises with Z, but this was different.

Unfortunately my first step was taken against my will as the arm yanked me a few feet forward before the machine stopped. I heard the door swing open and Clarity walked into my view.

“What was that about?” She asked, her big sad eyes staring right at me.. “You need to walk with the arm, Callidora. Aren’t you going to be good?”

I tried not to sigh as I decided on what to say. Clarity seemed strict but she could be sympathetic. Despite what she did, she also seemed a bit sad about doing it. I decided to try honesty to see if it would score some sympathy points.

“This is the first thing I’ve had to do on my own since I was taken and it is… difficult.” It wasn’t the full truth. Part of my pride was still getting in the way. But admitting that would probably get me worked twice as hard.

She stroked my face again and nodded. “Taking the first step is hard, but you have to take it. This is your place now. If you don’t walk the next time I turn on the machine, I will punish Lucky and Clover.”

I felt my heart jump into my throat. “Wait! Why them? I’d be the one not listening.”

Clarity gave me a look that was somehow sadder than usual. “You’re useful, Callidora. A race horse is valuable to Mistress Eos and her farm. We don’t want to hurt you if we don’t have to hurt you. Hurting you is a last resort. Instead others will be punished in your place.”

The weight of Clarity’s words pulled her down. What she was saying seemed so stupid, but it made sense to her. Eos obviously wanted someone like me to do some kind of race. If I got hurt then I couldn’t race. She was hoping that the threat of other people getting hurt would keep me in line. Something I hadn’t fully expected.

I was strong. The shock collar Z had placed me in had hurt. It could be debilitating. But I could take it. I was sure I could take whatever punishment they wanted to inflict on me.

But could Lucky and Clover?

Who else might be punished for any slight these monsters saw?

“I’m starting up the machine, Callidora.” Clarity’s voice broke through the thoughts swirling around her head.

I heard the machine start back up. I felt it pull forward. I took a deep breath and, with some hesitation, I stepped forward.

Giving in almost hurt. I felt like I was pounding a nail into my coffin with each step I took. The exercise felt unnatural. The arm kept me moving in a perfect circle around the pen, there was no room for deviation.

Clarity was silent for the first few rotations. I was only able to see her when the rotation brought her within my limited field of vision. I could see the other woman in the pen next to me after I passed by Clarity. She avoided making eye-contact. I wasn’t sure why specifically, maybe it was shame?

After I finished the forth rotation Clarity stopped the machine. I came to a stop in front of her. She said something to another one of the stablehands and they ran off. I had no choice but to stand there and wait. It wasn’t until then that I really felt a new kind of helplessness. The cage in Z’s basement was one thing, I could move around in that. I was strapped to a chair in the stable last night, but it didn’t feel like helplessness.

This did, My arms were tightly bound behind me. I was outside, but the machine kept me in place. The chains attaching me to the arm kept me standing straight, forcing me to present my body to the woman in front of me. I knew any wrong move was going to get people punished in my place.

“I’m proud of your first few steps as a true race horse, Callidora.” Clarity gave me a gentle smile, but her eyes still looked sad. “You can probably imagine what racing will be like. You’ll be in a pretty similar outfit, the only difference is it’ll be designed to show you off. Frosthoof, for example, was in her new racing attire. Mistress Eos will be commissioning some for you as well.”

“Aren’t I lucky.” I couldn’t swallow the sarcastic remark. But if Clarity picked it up, she didn’t show it.

“You definitely are.” She paused as the stablehand came back with a small bag. She rifled through it and took out a brush and began to use it on my hair as she continued to talk, much to my annoyance. “We both have high hopes for you. Someday you’ll be on the track, racing against the other race horses. Society members of course place bets on the different horses. Doing well will earn Mistress Eos a lot of renown. She is a very important person in the Society and serving her is an honor.”

“So why am I walking in circles instead of running.” I asked as I tried to pull away, not that there was much space to move.

Clarity sighed and put the brush down. “You will race on those specially made hoof heels. You did well on your marathon, but you’ll need to get used to them enough that you may as well have been born with them. Tripping or mistepping can hurt you very badly.”

“I could just walk up and down the road out there to get used to them.” I said as I gestured to the path outside the pen with my head.

“Maybe. But this pen serves two purposes. I can set this to keep going. I could leave you in here for hours with no choice to walk forward. Something that’ll probably happen as part of your training.” I grit my teeth as Clarity casually told me about the hours I’d spend everyday walking in circles.

“So what’s the other reason?”

Clarity reached into the back and pulled out a crop before entering the pen. “Mistress Eos requires all her ponies to learn how to walk correctly. Back straight. Knees up high. Looking straight forward.” She harshly corrected my posture as she talked, poking me with the crop. “This is something important for show ponies, incorrect posture deducts points. Race horses are expected to walk correctly when entering the track though.”

“So there’s no real reason to learn this aside from Eos wanting to make this as humiliating as possible.” I couldn’t choke back the bitterness. “Why do w- OW!”

My question was interrupted by Clarity hitting me on the ass with her crop. “You do it because Mistress Eos tells you to do it.” Clarity’s voice had developed a dangerous edge to it. “You do not need any other reason to do it. A pony does not question their owner’s decisions.”

I felt some kind of mix of rage and pity. There was obviously something wrong with Clarity. She always looked sad, she had emotions and seemed to have some kind of twisted empathy for the slaves forced to be ponies. But questioning Eos like that set her off. I couldn’t imagine why she would care so much about someone questioning Eos, it was like she was brainwashed or something.

“Fine.” It was all I could manage to say without risking getting into more trouble.

Before Clarity could continue another stablehand walked up with an arm full of what I could only think of as belts. “Thank you, you may go now.” Clarity’s voice returned to it’s sorrowful tone as she took the belts from the other slave and sent her on her way.

“New fashion accessories?” I asked, unsure what else they could be for.

“If you want to think of them that way.” Clarity knelt next to my feet and placed one on each of my ankles, then another one just below my knees. “There are sensors on the posts around the pen. They’ve been calibrated to your height. When you walk your knee has to go a certain height. Those things I just put on you will be able to tell how far away they are from each other and using that information they can tell if you’re lifting your leg high enough.”

My eyes widened when she showed me the next thing.

A phone.

“I can keep track of how many correct steps you take out of how many total steps you take.” Clarity left the pen and went back over to the machine controls. “We’re going to start with two hundred correct steps before you can take a short break.”

Without warning I felt the machine start back up and drag me forward. My mind should have been on the task. I didn’t want to get in trouble this soon. But all I could think of was the phone. Clarity was trusted, it could be a real phone with the ability to call people.

Which meant I might be able to call for help.

Eos

“What do you mean my ownership is being contested.” I asked Morton as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

The little worm had come onto my farm uninvited. He said he was afraid of discussing it on the phone, or even calling to warn me he was coming. I could see why, but it didn’t make me any happier.

“W-well, Mistress E-Eos.” He stuttered. “I was given a tip by someone close to the council that someone was pushing back against your ownership claim of your new pony.”

“Who would push back against me!” I slammed my hand against the desk and watched Morton jump. “Who gives a fuck about Z? Who would help her file a claim against me?”

“M-master Rayne and Lady Flora. She seems to have enlisted their help and they’ve hired Molly DuBois’s group to fight against your claim of ownership.” Every word out of his mouth spiked my blood pressure.

Of course Rayne and Flora wouldn’t just be satisfied with sinking one of my own family members. They also needed to interfere in a matter that didn’t even concern them.

Which meant I also had Z to blame for what happened to Rhiannon.

“Morton. Get out of my sight. If I ever see you again I will make sure that no one in your family ever achieves membership again. I think your daughter would make a wonderful statue on my lawn.” I watched his eyes go wide and he sprinted out of the room.

I felt a little better after Morton left, but my problem remained. Rayne and Flora weren’t a group I could simply fight against. They were powerful. They were someone who were regarded as being on the same level that I was. Some idiots thought they were more important.

I couldn’t simply brush them aside. I needed to take a different tactic.

There was a loud screeching sound as Morton peeled out of my driveway and down the road. I turned around and looked towards the pens. I could see Clarity standing outside one, watching Callidora walk in circles on the inside.

I smiled as I realized what I needed to do. The trick to rebuffing Z’s attempt at getting her slave back wasn’t to fight her, Rayne or Flora.

No, the path to winning was through Callidora.

[thepancakeboi]

An Unexpected Growth Spurt

So it barely took five minutes before this idea by @hetyra sent me down the rabbit hole of getting ideas and hyperfocusing on it rather than my current stuff. Whoops? No regrets. These types of fun reactions, where Ren is being such a goddamn menace towards Goro, are among my favorite to write. I will disclose this right now: I know very little about the storyline of Persona 5 Strikers outside of “sequel set in the summer after Persona 5 events″. As a result, it’s only there as a timing thing and a reference, but it’s fine. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this writing that gave me dopamine and serotonin in spades!

01/01/2018, 10:39 AM > Ren: Meiji Shrine it is! I can’t wait to see you.

I keep looking at that last text over and over as I stand here by the torii, awaiting Ren’s arrival. It’s been over a year since I last saw him. I’m lucky I was even able to get in touch with him, but...was coming here a mistake?

I’m not the type to get nervous, but I never thought I would see him again. With everything that happened between us, he shouldn’t even want to meet up with me. That and he probably assumed I was dead. The last time I saw him was in the engine room of Shido’s Palace. That place should have been my grave, yet somehow I had survived. I hadn’t told anyone. Truth be told, I hadn’t wanted anyone to know I was alive.

I...simply wanted to disappear.

Even now, I have the urge to leave before I can potentially reunite with Ren. Whatever had come over me last night, in that spur of the moment decision to text Ren after a year of silence, is gone. This whole idea is a mistake. He has much better ways to spend his time than wasting it on me. He’s probably been with his precious friends doing who knows what. There’s no way he needs someone like me in his life. He’s got all the people he could ever want. That’s it. I’m leaving now, before-

“Goro? Is that you?”

I freeze. His voice is a little deeper than I remember, but I would know it anywhere. I turn around, my heart leaping in my chest at seeing Ren. Although he’s not wearing his glasses this time, he hasn’t changed a bit. Even his hair is as unkempt as ever. It’s almost like I went back in time, to days where I wasn’t his (attempted) murderer. There are so many things I want to say, but all I can manage is a simple, “Hey, Ren.”

And he grins. Yet another thing that hasn’t changed: that beautiful smile. I can tell he’s barely stopping himself from running and pulling me into a hug as he approaches. I’m thankful for his restraint. There’s no telling what my reaction would have been. “Hi, Akeppi.”

I huff, shaking my head. “I was hoping you forgot that damn nickname.” And me as well, some small part of me silently adds.

“You know you like it.” Smug as ever, the menace. “I missed you. Where have you been? You never told me.”

Straight to the point, I see. I had very purposefully avoided the dogged questions about how I was alive or where I’d been. It didn’t seem like the type of thing to discuss through instant messages. This needed to be a face-to-face conversation. “I was at a rehab center, believe it or not.”

“You were?”

Nodding, I force myself to continue. He deserves to know what happened. “It’s outside of Tokyo...and it’s where my mother would go. I went there on Christmas Eve without an appointment, but they accepted me anyway. The only time I had left between then and now was when I heard word that you were being detained.”

“Oh?”

“I couldn’t just sit by and do nothing. After all, you did change Shido’s heart for me. So, I helped your friends track down the woman in your assault case.”

“Wait, did they know you were alive and didn’t tell me?”

“No, nothing like that,” I reassure him, letting Ren know that his friends hadn’t kept my survival a secret from him. “I gave them what information I could find, anonymously, of course. They probably wouldn’t have accepted it if they knew who it came from.”

“Come on, give them a little more credit than that.”

I don’t think I can, especially when two of my victims had been Futaba Sakura’s mother and Haru Okumura’s father. “Either way, what about you? You’re a third-year now, yes?”

“Yeah. A lot’s happened since...” He stops for a moment. Something tells me the reason he stopped isn’t pleasant. Could it be he was about to say “since our last fight”, or something of that caliber? He quickly snaps out of it, though, beaming once again as he continues. “Oh, I saved Christmas by summoning satan to shoot god in the face!”

If he were any other person, I might have figured him insane. Even so, I can’t hide my surprise as I stammer, “You...what?”

“We went into the depths of Mementos to find its treasure. Never want to go there again. And then we fought the holy grail, which was really a god who was controlling everyone. I summoned this huge Persona, Satanael, and we shot god in the face!”

I chuckle at that. It all sounds so impossible, yet anything’s possible in the Metaverse. “If only I could have seen such a sight.” Upon seeing Ren’s melancholy look, I quickly add, “What else happened after that?”

“I went back home in March.” He doesn’t seem too thrilled about that detail. I know he preferred living at Leblanc over with his own parents, who never seemed to contact him while he was on probation. “And then I came back for summer vacation with the rest of the Phantom Thieves. But then the Metaverse came back, and these places called Jails were showing up, and...well, it’s a long story.”

“Perhaps for another time. Your life certainly has been interesting.”

“I wish you could’ve been there, but I’m happy you’re still alive. I...didn’t know what happened to you. Everyone else thought you were dead, but I just couldn’t believe it. I kept hoping that you weren’t. I really did miss you, Goro.” And I believe it, somehow.

“I apologize for not contacting you until yesterday. I know I should have. I cannot imagine what you must have gone through, and-”

“It’s okay!” he replies, a little too quickly. It makes me wonder how he handled my supposed death. I won’t pry. If he wants to tell me one day, it’ll be when he wants. He finally pulls me into the hug he’s likely been waiting for this whole time, gently running his fingers through my hair. “Your hair’s shorter than before.”

“Is that a problem?” I know it’s only a simple observation, but I can’t help but assume he doesn’t like it.

“No. I just noticed. That’s all. You look cute with short hair.”

“I’m not cute,” I immediately retort.

“Are too.”

“Well, you haven’t changed a-” I pause. Some small detail is pulling at my attention, but what is it? “Wait a minute. Did you...?”

“Did I what?” he asks, clearly as confused as I am.

I move out of his embrace to back up a few steps, looking at his footwear. He isn’t wearing heels, which means... “Have you...grown since we last saw each other?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, a little. Why?”

“How much?”

“I dunno, five centimeters?”

“Damnit,” I hiss. “Who said you were allowed to have a growth spurt!?”

Clarity lights up his face as he realizes the reason for my irritable reaction. “Oh, right. You hated when I was taller as Joker. Does it bother you that I’m taller than you now?”

“Shut up.”

He laughs. “I love it. It’s nice seeing you as the smaller one.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

He fake gasps. “He swore! Are you angy, my adorable little detective?” he asks, his voice sounding all cutesy. Goddamn menace.

“What do you think!?”

He is obviously smug that he’s now taller than me by two centimeters. His grin only widens as he pats my head. I try to smack his hand away, but he moves it away before I can. “You’re cute when you’re angry.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Even more so since I’m taller than you.”

“Infuriating as ever,” I snarl, my patience running thin. He’s being so cocky that I want to fucking strangle him. “I should wear heels just to be the taller one.”

“I don’t think you could.”

“Is that a challenge, Ren?”

“I dunno.” He shrugs, but I see right through the gesture. He knows exactly what he’s doing. “You tell me, detective. Is it a challenge?”

“I think it is, and I don’t intend to lose. I can and will wear heels. Watch me.”

“Even if you did, I could just wear heels as well,” he replies with a shit-eating grin to match his tone, “and run in them, too.”

I sigh in frustration, crossing my arms. I hate that I know he’s right. The Metaverse is enough indication of that. “You little shit.”

“You’re the little one, not me.”

“Shut up, Ren.”

“Make me,” he says as he gets right in my face, smirking as I instinctively lean back. “You could always kiss me into silence.”

There’s no hiding my flushed reaction to his suggestion. “You fucking wish, you idiot,” I snap, trying to ignore just how hot my face feels.

“Yeah, I do, my little tsundere pancake.”

Oh, of course, he had to mention the pancakes. Of fucking course. “I hate you so much.”

“I still don’t believe you. We both know that’s a lie.”

“Damn you and your two centimeters,” I say right before I recklessly kiss him on the lips.

I can see the ever so slight surprise on Ren’s face. He hides it well. His mirth at the unexpected kiss is clear as he asks, “Now, was that really so bad?”

“Yes.” No.

“Why’d you do it, then?”

“To get you to shut up.” I’ve been wanting to for a while now.

“Sure, sure,” he laughs. “Hey, would you want to get some lunch together? My treat.”

I’m glad he asked first. Truth be told, I wanted an excuse to spend more time with him. I’ve missed Ren more than I care to admit. “Sounds delightful. You can choose the location, but I’m paying.”

“Hey, no. I’m buying lunch, and you can’t stop me.”

“I’m paying, and that’s final.”

“Okay, how about we leave it up to chance? Whoever ends up with the bill pays. Deal?”

“Very well. You have a deal.” I’m still not letting him pay, though, even if it means resorting to more...underhanded methods.

He takes my hand in his, the small gesture of affection almost causing me to tear up. No one’s cared about me like Ren has. I don’t deserve it, but I doubt arguing that with him would get anywhere. It would be fruitless. All I can hope is that he’ll be happy around me.

And, for the first time in a year...I smile.

#akeppi writes #p5 #persona 5 #p5s #persona 5 scramble #persona 5 strikers #persona 5 spoilers #p5 spoilers #goro akechi #akechi #ren amamiya #akira kurusu #akeshu #shuake #ren is a menace #i also kind of worked the unused rehab thing from royal into this #i just really needed a reason why goro wasn't around in strikers/scramble #plus i just have a soft spot for that unused event

[sunsoothed]

muse

Jugyeong needs to amend her understanding of best friends.

han seojun\kang sujin | rated t | 3.3k words | college au, pining, jealousy | outsider pov

read on ao3

enjoy!

~

Im Jugyeong, frankly, has never seen someone quite like Han Seojun. He’s a muted, ephemeral kind of beauty, someone you get caught staring at in class, or someone you get caught staring at while eating, or someone you get caught staring at, period.

He’s also someone you stare at when they’re not around, which is why Jugyeong is only shocked out of her daze when from beside her, Sua says his name.

“Wasn’t Han Seojun supposed to be here?”

They’re sitting around a large table for lunch, with people Jugyeong only half-knows, because she’d been a fool to transfer colleges in her second year.

“Was he?” Someone opposite her pipes up. “I’ll call him.”

That makes Jugyeong raise her eyes. Someone so close to Han Seojun that they can just call him? When she looks up, it’s the one other female student in her statistics class.

Kang Sujin, was it?

Kang Sujin brings her phone to her ear, and a response seems to come within a moment, for she asks, “Did you just wake up?”

To which she must get a denial, because she then says, “You had lunch plans.”

Everyone’s peering suspiciously into Sujin’s space, so Jugyeong supposes it isn’t odd for her to do so, too.

Sudden concern fills Sujin’s voice. “What, did you have a late night?”

And then she’s back to plain informative. “Mmh. Not too far. I think we all have a good half an hour or so to spare.”

And Seojun must say something funny, because Sujin laughs, hums, and hangs up with a See you.

“He should be here soon. He decided to work late on a project last night because he didn’t have any classes this morning.”

There’s a collective ahh, we understand, before everyone gets back to their food and conversation. Sua places a slice of meat in her bowl, Sujin unearths a bottle of banana milk from somewhere, and on her other side, Taehoon slurps his ramyeon loudly. Under the table, Jugyeong’s heels click with the floor in anticipation.

When he does arrive, some ten-twelve minutes later, He’s beyond words. Hair slightly unkempt, wearing a beige coat and carrying another in the crook of his arm. He has a pink sweater on underneath, as much as Jugyeong can make out, and his white shoes radiate a slight dichotomy from his usual vibe.

“Shift,” He says, opposite Jugyeong, as he approaches them. Kang Sujin, who’d been close enough to call him, tilts her head back to catch sight of him.

She blinks, then juts her jaw to the space beside Taehoon.“There’s space there —”

“Just shift.” Seojun insists, an utterly adorable whine to his voice. Gosh, Jugyeong feels her cheeks reddening.

But Sujin only sighs and makes reluctant way for him. “Come, sit.”

Seojun gives a sort-of grimace, sort-of smile. They seem close. He hands her the coat he was carrying, too. “You left this behind.”

“Ah, right,” Sujin says, taking the coat from him. “No wonder I’ve been feeling chilly all day.”

He seems to have some quippy response prepared, but Sujin beats him to it.

“Your hair’s still wet,” She says. She holds a hand to his forehead, fingers brushing against the strands.

Seojun hums. “I was in the shower when you called.” He does nothing to remove her hand. They must be very close.

“Did I disturb you?”

He clicks his tongue, waving her worry away. He’s so attractive.

Sujin picks up her half-drunk banana milk. She hands it to him. “Here, by the way.”

She could’ve just bought him a new one. What was the point of this?

But Han Seojun takes a sip like it’s nothing, mouth on the straw that Sujin had drunk from. He swallows and pulls a face. “Tastes like your chapstick. I don't want it.”

Best friends, Jugyeong thinks. They must be best friends.

Unfazed, Sujin grins. “Lucky for you…” And she unearths another bottle of banana milk.“I have another one.”

Han Seojun smiles, half his mouth quirked up and a fond exasperation in his eyes. He easily accepts the bottle, pierces the straw through, and holds it up. “Cheers.”

-

“Change your position now!”

The party’s in full-swing. As full-swingy as it can get in Jugyeong’s cramped apartment, at least. It’s been a day since Jugyeong managed to meet Han Seojun. And now he’s here, in her apartment, and they’re playing Spin the Bottle, and there are very, very less people.

Taehoon groans, the bottle having landed on him and empty air for the second time. “This game is stupid —”

“Shut up,” Sua implores. “We’re all having fun. Who’s next?”

“Spin it!”

So Sua spins the bottle, and they wait in anticipation for it to land on someone. It’s Kang Sujin.

“How lucky…” Jugyeong hears Taehoon say under his breath. Then she looks up. It’s Kang Sujin and her.

“If you’re uncomfortable,” Sujin starts, hand already on her shot glass to allow Jugyeong to skip the turn. But Jugyeong shakes her head.

“I’ve just… never kissed a girl before.” The confession is sudden, but no one is perturbed.

“It’s the same as kissing a boy,” Sujin supplies oh-so-helpfully. She leans in, and Jugyeong, heart hammering, leans in too, and it’s over in a second.

“You don’t take this stuff seriously, do you?” Jugyeong asks, a sudden energy in her. She meets Sujin’s eyes.

“Not at all.” Sujin smiles.

The game continues. “Your turn to spin.”

Jugyeong gulps, suddenly in need of a sobering smack to the head because what the fuck —

“Sujin again!” Some errant voice declares. Sujin and Seojun.

They seemed pretty close that morning, so maybe this isn’t a big deal? But Sujin takes a shot, and Jugyeong’s confused now. They shared that banana milk this morning, didn’t they? Possibly tipsy, Jugyeong asks, “Hey, why’re you drinking —”

It takes Han Seojun a second, but then he says, “Ah, that,” like this is all making sense to him, and he, too, takes a shot.

And then they kiss — no, maul each other’s faces, and it’s the most erotic and the most disgusting thing Jugyeong’s seen in her life. When they pull apart, completely cool, Seojun wipes a trail of spit and alcohol from his chin and licks his fingers. Oh god. Jugyeong’s abdomen hollows.

There is an understandably long silence.

Eventually, Taehoon swallows, and says, weakly, “You two…”

“It’s a thing we do,” Sujin informs, nonchalant.

“I thought you said you weren’t together.”

“We aren’t.”

-

“Home, now?”

Slurred, Sujin replies, “Mmm.”

Jugyeong catches the conversation on the periphery, pulling her own shoes on in the outroom of the restaurant. It was a good choice these people had made; the food was good, the wine was mild, and the effects were a pleasant buzz.

“Come,” Seojun’s even more pleasant enters her earshot. “Let’s put on our shoes…”

Jugyeong likes to think he’s talking to her. But leaning against the wall, she can see, with clarity, that he’s addressing only Sujin. Oh, woe, Jugyeong sighs. She watches Sujin’s attempt at balance while drunk, watches her try and slip on her shoes, try, so considerately, because Seojun’s watching over her. She sees him, fond, as he slips his fingers beside Sujin’s and helps her slide her feet in. She gulps.

“Are you taking Sujin home?” Alas, there must always be an unwelcome distraction. Jugyeong can’t remember this guy’s name, but it must be as irritating as his face.

Seojun must feel the same, for he replies with a much-too-cordial, much-too-gruff yes.

“You’re familiar with where she lives?” The guy questions, throwing his weight around. He leans obstructively over the wall against which Sujin stands. “She’s drunk, would she trust you enough?”

It’s an awkward situation. Seojun is grimacing, and Jugyeong, considerably removed by context but very much involved by space, grimaces as well. Seojun seems to have a non-threatening reply prepared, but Sujin beats him to it, aggression and distraught where she stands, now, shaky.

“Yah, Park - Park whatever your name is, how dare you say that to Seojun?”

And this Park whatever-your-name is opens his mouth in affront, drunk breath diffusing around the room. “I —”

“Sujin-ah —”

Sujin continues. “This bastard. You don’t know anything about us.”

She looks like a kitten whose fur is standing on edge, anger in the face of fear.

“He doesn’t,” Seojun coaxes, still-rational. Jugyeong has the sudden urge to laugh.

He tries again, hand firm on Sujin’s shoulder.“Let’s just go —”

But Sujin doesn’t budge. She holds an accusatory finger to the guy’s face, which has, somehow, turned a nauseated shade, and declares, “We’re best friends, okay?”

-

Best friends, Jugyeong continues to ruminate, some mornings later as they meet up to study. She watches Seojun with his messy hair tapping the end of his pencil against the sheet he’s working on. He looks distracted. There’s also something very distracting about him, and Jugyeong’s sure it’s caught more than her eye. Seojun’s eye, that it. He’s wearing kajal, and he’s sporting some… averagely-done smokey-eye look, which she’s just itching to correct.

Seojun plants the pencil behind his ear and picks up his phone, oblivious to Jugyeong’s inner turmoil, though she sits opposite him and very much in his view. He’s typing something, a light furrow between his brows. Then he puts down his phone, and looks at the sheet he’d been sketching on for the better part of the hour, and sighs with great displeasure.

Jugyeong sets her own eyes to her work, a little guiltily. She shouldn’t be watching him like this.

Eyes on the table, she sees Seojun pull out a different pencil from his pencil case and get to work. Hands deft, hands smooth, he’s drawing arching strokes when the quiet of the studio is interrupted by the door opening. Almost everyone turns at the sound on instinct, then drop their attention once they notice another student. Jugyeong registers that it’s Sujin. She also registers that Seojun hasn’t glanced up from his work.

He does, then, when Sujin first plucks the pencil he’d tucked behind his ear, second deposits a thermos upon the desk.

“For your throat,” she greets. She waves to Jugyeong. Jugyeong waves back.

Seojun nods. He applies his finishing touches to the sketch, then looks up. “Thanks, Sujin-ah.”

“No need,” Sujin hums. She places the displaced pencil on the table, ruffles Seojun’s already unkempt hair, and waves goodbye to Jugyeong.

Jugyeong waves back.

-

Shoes, again, Jugyeong’s place, again. It’s a pattern, she thinks. Or wishes to think, with finality, but unfortunately things involving Han Seojun are always demanding to be overthought. He had shown up in some flowy palazzo pants and a crop-top that Sua swore she had seen Sujin wear once. He had looked good.

Some considerable amount of shots later, however, his hair had been styled out f its artful mess to a regular mess, and his lipstick had smudged from the amount of people he had kissed. And Jugyeong had stood, watching, as her turn never came. And as, customarily, Seojun and Sujin drank out of each other’s mouths.

And here, again, she watches, as Sujin helps Seojun put his shoes on.

“You sure you can walk in that?” She’s asking, kneeling on the floor, very much proposal-like. In one hand she holds the heels Seojun had sauntered in wearing.

Seojun hiccups. “Probably… not.”

Sujin smiles up at him, fond, shakes her head. She turns to the side, glances somewhat into the apartment. Catches Jugyeong’s eye. “Hey, Jugyeong, do you have any flats?”

Jugyeong snaps out of her reverie. Her mouth hangs open for a moment, uncomprehending, before she processes the words. “I do, just a moment.”

Han Seojun is borrowing her shoes. Jugyeong fishes out her best pair of flats, a sleek black pair that hasn’t seen the light of day for a good few months. She tucks her hair behind her ears before walking out of her room; for what, she doesn’t know.

Gulping, heart racing, Jugyeong hands the shoes to Sujin. “Here.”

Sujin takes them with a somewhat distracted smile, one hand reaching for the shoes, one hand keeping Seojun upright. “Thanks, Jugyeong.”

Jugyeong finds herself gulping once again, watching Sujin crouch down and slip the flats onto Seojun’s feet, familiarity evident in her actions. She doesn’t entertain that line of thought any further.

And then Han Seojun speaks, voice off in the most adorable way, a little high, well past tipsy. “What, what — are you going propose to me?”

Sujin finds amusement in that. She smiles, laughs, stands up to clap a hand on Seojun’s shoulder. “Not yet.”

Seojun nods. He leans against Sujin, expectant of her support, Jugyeong looks away as Sujin wraps a hand around his waist.

“You can —” she clears her throat and tries again, “You can leave his shoes here,” Jugyeong suggests, holding out an awkward hand.

Sujin brushes her off, not rudely, more preoccupied with the very drunk Seojun-like mass on her shoulder. “It’s fine, I’ll carry them back,” she says. “Thanks, again.”

“Anytime,” Jugyeong whispers, long after they’ve left her house.

-

“Would you like some breakfast?”

That has to be a pickup line. Jugyeong blushes terribly.

“Ah- ah, that would be really nice, actually.”

Seojun’s ever-polite, guiding her into the house and pulling a chair at the kitchen island out for her. It’s not a big space, but it’s well-maintained. Either he’s well-off or he’s taken a loan he’ll need to spend a good half of his life paying back.

“Come, sit at the table.”

Jugyeong nods and takes a grateful seat. Seojun busies himself with something steaming on the gas, his well-dressed back facing her. He’s worn those skimpy white blouses before, and they really complement his frame.

“We don’t eat with too much spice,” He calls over, stirring the... stew? Jugyeong isn’t sure. “I hope that’s fine.”

“That’s okay,” She immediately reassures. “I don’t mind.” We…?

The we comes in the form of one Kang Sujin, trudging to the kitchen in an oversized t-shirt and nothing else, immediately locating Seojun and holding him in a death grip from behind. Jugyeong wonders how he’s moving with Sujin clinging to him like that.

Finally, the koala speaks, voice grogging. “Jun-ah….”

“You’re up?” Seojun hums, unperturbed. Must be a common occurrence, Jugyeong thinks, with her already stilted hopes. How wonderful.

“Barely.” Sujin exhales, arms loosening their hold slightly. She rests the side of her head against Seojun’s back, eyes blinking open to Jugyeong.

“Hello, Jugyeong.” She says. “Good morning?”

Taken aback, Jugyeong just about manages to reply, “Good - Good morning.”

“Mm.” Sujin nods back, solemn. “If you say so.”

Seojun huffs out a laugh at that. “You nutcase,” He says affectionately. “Go sit at the table. Breakfast’s almost ready.”

Sujin nods again, dragging herself to the kitchen island, sitting beside Jugyeong. “You guys have that project thing, don’t you?”

Jugyeong hums, now in safer waters. “It’s an installation piece.”

“What are you…” Sujin leans on her arms, “What are you installing?”

Seojun laughs, again, affectionate, again.

“It’s not exactly that,” Jugyeong tries to explain. “It’s an artwork. Seojun is doing the woodwork and I’m painting.”

“So you’re not installing it anywhere?”

“I suppose we are,” Jugyeong supposes. “It’ll need to find a place in the studio and then, hopefully, the exhibition.”

Sujin nods along, having understood it in her own way. Seojun sets two bowls of noodles and stew in front of them by then.

Jugyeong intends to thank him, but she’s cut-off by Sujin gasping, “Is that mine?”

She clutches the sleeve of Seojun’s white blouse. Seojun, in turn, grabs a fistful of her t-shirt. “Is that mine?”

“Fair,” Sujin acquiesces, letting go first. “Fair enough.”

Seojun smiles a cordial smile, then sits opposite Sujin.

“Do you have less crockery?” Jugyeong finds herself asking instead, for Seojun’s eating right out of Sujin’s bowl.

He shakes his head with his mouth full, then swallows and answers, “This one’s just a bitch about doing the dishes. Less dishes used, less dishes to wash.”

“That’s not it,” Sujin weakly protests, picking up the chopsticks beside her, finally gaining some life. “It’s saving water.”

“You shouldn’t make fun of such a serious thing —”

“I’m not making fun of anything —”

These two, Jugyeong marvels. They really are something, aren’t they?

-

It’s a considerably slow day. Jugyeong’s managed to get her upcoming deadlines pushed back, so she can procrastinate her work some more, and maybe accompany Sua when she’s out for a smoke. That is, of course, what Jugyeong assumes she does.

Sua is standing with the others on the terrace, a semi circle formed between them.

“I heard about that Min Jongho, but you’re saying Oh Namsung was also involved? Isn’t that going to blow up in his father’s face?”

Jugyeong takes a step closer. She can recognise those names, that’s those two irritating guys who usually sit at the far end of the workshop.

“Possession of drugs is too serious of a thing for his father to escape from,” Taehoon chimes in. He looks up, sighing, when he catches sight of Jugyeong.

“Oh, Jugyeong!”

She meets his eyes, innocent. “Hm?”

“Come join us,” Sua beckons, already trying to reach for her arm. Jugyeong takes a step forward, absorbed into their circle.

“Did you hear about what Min Jongho did?”

She sakes her head. “No clue.”

“He was caught with marijuana,” Sujin explains, and oof, Jugyeong can’t avoid her now, can she?

“That’s… pretty serious,” she says. “How did people find out?”

“Someone snitched,” one of the others hisses. “He had a party the other night — remember the one where that fucker got that cheap alcohol? Like ten people got the worst hangovers — wait, that’s not the point — they were smoking up, someone found them and secretly reported it.”

“I think there’s more to it than we’re seeing,” Sujin diffuses. “It’s not possible that that was it. No one has those kind of morals around us.”

“What do you know,” Taehoon refutes. “You’re not an art student, Sujin.”

“My apologies for not having such an outlook on the world, your lordship,” she mocks, face intentionally one of surface politeness. “What do you mean you’re not an art student? Seojunnie’s always dragging me into his work.”

“That’s because you’re his muse —”

“Convenient human subject, you mean,” Sujin cuts off, still good-natured.

Jugyeong gets it, that kind of attention she must receive from Seojun may have the potential to be exhausting. Of course Jugyeong gets it. Of course she does. There’s no reason that she needs to stop looking at Sujin’s face —

And arrives the subject of their bootlegged discussion. Han Seojun, a trudging beauty, a tragic beauty, skirt stained and hands freshly-washed. He zeros in on his muse — sorry, convenient human subject — falling without grace against her back, his arms encircling her from behind.

Jugyeong gulps.

“You okay?” Sujin asks, concerned, the kind that only fills her words when Seojun’s around. She turns, letting him breathe out against her neck, lightly ruffles his hair as she hugs him back.

Seojun exhales again. “Mmm.”

“Not sounding like it,” she prompts. Her voice is so soft, now. No brashness that had lain aflame when she argued earlier, nor the stunted amusement when she judged her surroundings. Does one always change so, Jugyeong wonders, when one loves?

“Just give me a minute,” Seojun says, hugging Sujin tighter. The little semi circle of theirs breaks apart, leaving the two to themselves, and Jugyeong reluctantly takes her eyes off Sujin rubbing Seojun’s back.

When she walks, half a beat behind everyone else, she can somewhat hear Sujin’s home voice. She can hear Seojun-ah? and she can hear Hey, hey, Jun-ah. Let’s go somewhere quiet, hm? and she can hear them go somewhere quiet.

And when she skips back, citing her forgetfulness and her phone, which she knows she left behind in the studio, she catches the dregs of a conversation that must be second nature.

“What’s wrong?” from Sujin.

“It’s stupid, I just… I’m so overwhelmed.” from Seojun.

“Ah, Junjun, seriously, that’s nothing to be ashamed of. Come here.” from some half-way point that’s worn and torn.

Jugyeong holds her bitter smile all the way back to the studio, and realises, only belatedly as she watches Seojun walk back in, that she hadn’t considered him in this equation at all.

She had just been looking at Sujin.

#true beauty #tvn true beauty #true beauty fanfic #han seojun #kang sujin #seojun x sujin #junjin #whovie writes

[theouterbankpogues]

after sarah doesn’t invite kiara to her birthday party (a jj x kiara fic)

author : theouterbankpogues aka vi

fandom : jj x kie, jiara | outer banks on netflix

tags : the angst, the fluff, the hurt, the comfort y’know!!

warnings : none

i love writing for this ship bc it has a chokehold on me and i just... i’m so helpless lmao. i read this hc set by @lemon-patches​ (which you should definitely go and read bc it’s amazing and all the feelings) and it talked about how jj and ki were each other’s first kiss and no one else knows. this is basically how i imagine it happened. enjoy!! as always the validation feeds me so yeah if you like it pls share it and stuff (i love reading tags on reblogs so lmao do with that what u will). i imagine they are 15/16, about 6-8 months before s1 idk if that adds up but lol thats what i went with. sorry for any errors u may find xx

a little preview so u know what you’re getting into hehe: “They stood like that for a while, long and quiet breaths synced, arms entangled in waist and shoulders, hearts rhythmically beating, just enjoying the warmth of the best friend they dearly missed.”

Tears streamed down Kiara’s face. She knew that calling the cops was petty, she knew it was the worst of her manifesting itself, but tonight Ki couldn’t bring herself to care. She found herself toppling some books off of her bookshelf. She had always known that she wasn’t good enough for Sarah. The Sarah Cameron. God, she felt so stupid.

Another wave of regret coursed through her. The pit of her stomach hollowed when she re-remembered that she’d actually listened to her parents and decided to give her kook year a genuine try. She had distanced herself from the cut and the pogues, her best friends, the people that she could always count on, the people who always cared. She gave it all up for the superficial bullshit she knew would eventually fall apart.

That entire evening, the anger and regret approached her in harsh and unforgiving turns. She couldn’t escape her own thoughts, she was so mad at herself. She had let herself become vulnerable, given herself up for someone to use and dispose. She felt so weak. All she really wanted to do was fit in, to have a normal year where she wasn’t disappointing her parents, where she wasn’t out at unreasonable hours getting her friends out of messes, watching their string of luck grow thinner and thinner with every prank and practical joke. She was tired of being the middle between the kooks and pogues, she loved the latter and she could’t escape the part of her that was the former. She just wanted to resign to one side, she just wanted things to get easier. Kiara had decided to leave everything for some peace of mind, and now she knew she’d made a mistake. She hadn’t even checked in with John B, his dad was missing and she hadn’t even checked in with him. God, she felt so stupid. Her sobs overtook her as she sat at her bed.

She was so exhausted from the crying she could scream, it had been a few long hours. And Ki, in a moment of clarity, convinced herself that she was too strong for that. Even though she felt horrible, she reminded herself that she was too careful to let this anger get the best of her. Instead, she resorted to taking a few deep breaths and cleaning up the various books and stationary strewn across her bedroom floor as a remnant of her anger. What had happened had happened, she was just going to have to figure out how to cope on her own.

Yeah, I just have to figure it out on my own. I’ll be fine.

That’s when she heard it.

Thud.

Thud. Thud.

Thud.

‘What the-’

She realised that the sound was coming from her window. Stepping toward the side of her room facing the balcony, she realised that pebbles were currently being thrown at her window by a silhouette below it. She couldn’t tell who it was because the backdoor lights had been switched off for the night. It was well past midnight and her parents were soundly sleeping in the next room, she swore she would never forgive the person currently trying to break her window if they woke up. She didn’t want anyone to see her as the mess she was right now. So as quickly and as safely as Kiara could, she opened the balcony window, “What the actual— JJ? JJ is that you?” Kiara couldn’t really understand what was going on, she had stopped talking to the pogues months ago.

“Yeah, hey Ki! Come down!”

“What?”

“You heard me bro, get dressed and come down!”

After a curt nod, she went back into her room, changed out of her PJ’s into some joggers and a hoodie and found herself sneaking out the back door out of genuine curiosity. When she was outside, she realised that neither Pope nor John B were with JJ. Along with that, she realised that he had two boxes of pizza and some beer cans set down on the grass next to him.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I was scrolling through Instagram, realised you weren’t at the party, thought you might need a pick me up,” He seemed to register her tired face and puffy eyes under the dim starlight because he continued, “guess I was right!”

And that’s how, twenty minutes later, JJ and Ki found themselves in a clearing near her house. They sat down opposite each other, the pizza boxes separating them.

“Got your favourite, double cheese, double pepperoni and half the jalapeño.”

Except for the occasional direction here and there, Ki had been quite their entire walk. She couldn’t really even process what was happening. How was JJ here? Why was he talking to her after she’d treated them him like shit the past few months? None of it made sense to her, least of all why this was all from JJ. With all of it perplexing her, the only thing she managed to say was, “You remembered.”

‘Yeah of course I did Ki, just because you stopped talking to us doesn’t mean we stopped caring about you. Come on, dig in, it’s getting cold.”

She didn’t know how to respond to him so she just followed him in picking up a slice from the box. Warm pizza , cold beer and melted cheese heavily complemented the gentle breeze that surrounded them. They fell into a comfortable silence as they ate.

“I’m so sorry.”

“I know Ki-”

“No, everything I did these past few months, the way I cut you guys off, the way I left y’all when you needed me I-”

“Ki we know-”

“God, I’ve been so stupid, I left you guys, like y’all were nothing, y’all needed me and I-”

“Ki, Ki-” Ki just continued, she felt horrible, “KIARA!” JJ saying her full name was so foreign to her, especially since he hadn’t even call her by her nickname these past few months, it undoubtably got her to stop talking.

“I know the pressure your parents put on you to start at that kook academy. Look we all know how hard it is for you to manage these two parts of your life. I know Ki, you don’t have to keep apologising, I know. We know! Why do you think we didn’t try to talk to you when you told us last summer? We want you to do what’s best for you Ki, you are better than us.” At that, Kiara got up and paced back and forth a few steps, remorse hitting her unbearably. 

“I’m not better than any of you. A part of me wanted to leave you all behind.”

JJ’s response was almost instantaneous, “I don’t blame you for it!”

“Well you should! I left you and Pope. I left John B for god’s sake. His dad is most probably dead and I wasn’t theRE.... I-I’m not there.”

At this point the tears had returned to her and she broke on her last word. Her voice wasn’t steady anymore. “I left all of you... I left you.”

JJ couldn’t stand hearing Ki like this, there’s nothing he hated more than having to let down his guard and get real. But JJ, when she said that, realised that this wasn’t about him. 

“Yeah Ki you did, but fuck that. We know you love us, we know that it was a difficult call! You have to forgive yourself. The reason I came tonight was to let you know that you have the people that care about you Ki.”

He stepped toward her and looked her right in the eye, Ki had never seen someone so determined with compassion before, “Whatever you do Ki - if you wanna go to the kook academy, if you wanna be friends with Sarah Cameron, if you wanna cry about how horribly she treated you, if you wanna listen to your parents and not talk to us, if you wanna leave the cut- we’re never not going to have your back. You’re a pogue. You’re our pogue! And if Sarah Cameron can’t see how kickass you are, she doesn’t deserve you and she never did. You got us Ki, we’re always right here. No matter what.”

And throughout all of that, he hadn’t stopped looking directly at her. She was enamoured to say the least, she couldn’t remember the last time JJ talked about something that real, let alone carry an entire conversation himself. Knowing her words wouldn’t suffice, she hugged him. She smelt the sea salt in his hair and pizza grease on his shirt and it was the epitome of comfort to her. JJ hugged her right back, it meant the world to him that he could make her feel at least a bit better. They stood like that for a while, long and quiet breaths synced, arms entangled in waist and shoulders, hearts rhythmically beating, just enjoying the warmth of the best friend they dearly missed. 

Before they could completely untangle from the other, Ki looked back at JJ, god, how did she get so lucky to have someone like him in her life? The air lightened around them as she looked at him, his eyes regained the mischievous glint they always had. It might’ve been because she was slightly tipsy, or because he was staring so intently at her, but for some reason, it felt right. There was no waiting or thinking, she rested her hands on either side of JJ’s face and kissed him. His lips were chapped and they tasted like beer but she loved it. A rush of adrenaline ran through her, it was new and exciting. 

When JJ processed her soft lips on his, and her hands caressing his face, he pulled back. Along with confusion and surprise, there was something in his eyes that Ki couldn’t recognise. But before she decided on asking him what it was about, he was already kissing her again. 

And this time there seemed to be nothing holding him back. His hands were wrapped around her waist, she was grabbing fistfuls of his hair in reciprocation. They knew that they would never be able to do it again so they just gave in. His hands travelled to the small of her back and her neck and she swore that she had never felt something more intoxicating. 

Ki had forgotten where they even were when they broke for air. They were both just breathing, eyes closed and foreheads touching, it was the closest thing to perfect the either of them had ever felt.

When they opened their eyes and looked back at one and other, they were surprised at how comfortable it felt. How... un-awkward, it oddly felt right. But they knew what the rules were, they knew that when Ki got home, they would never talk about it again, and they were fine with that too.

As they approached her doorstep, JJ couldn’t help himself but ask, “Was that your first-” “Yeah.” “Yeah, mine too.” “What?” Kie thought he was joking, JJ had flirted with every other tourist at the boneyard since they were like ten, “Mine, too.” He repeated. There was an honesty to his response that stopped Ki from asking any further. 

She hugged him again. “Thank you for this. I missed you.” He hugged her right back.

“I missed you too. When you come back to us, more beer will be waiting for you no questions asked, don’t ever doubt it.” With that, he placed a soft kiss on her forehead and left. 

Ki had a small smile playing on her lips; she had never felt lighter in her life. 

#im actually proud of this #it came out so cute #jiara #jj x ki #ki x jj #kiara x jj #jj x kiara #obx #yes there are timeline inconsistencies #im sorry #outer banks #netflix obx #netflix outer banks #obx ff #obx hc #outer banks hc #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks ff #jiara hc #jiara ff #jiara fanfiction #user:theouterbankpogues

[dirt-cup-draco]

Bucky x Reader- Limit

Bucky couldn’t take it anymore, your eyes were brimmed with tears as he settled into the couch with you tucked against his side as you sighed softly into his tshirt. With a quick look over your head his eyes locked onto the clock. 3:23 in the morning. 

“Are we going to talk about this?” Bucky spoke in hushed tones, hand skating up and down your arm as he tried to take your pain away. He wasn’t sure what the cause was this time. Whether it was your own demons or the asshole you always seemed to be forgiving, Mark or Max- didn’t matter- you hadn’t smiled in weeks and Bucky was there to let you cry into his shirt with reassuring words that he knew you tuned out. 

You shrugged. “Nothing to talk about,” 

Yet your voice was thick with emotion and Bucky could feel you pushing him away while you simultaneously dug your fingers into his shirt, pulling him into you while you tried to work through whatever was going on in that pretty head of yours. 

And pretty you were. Bucky hadn’t taken his eye off you since Steve had introduced you after the snap. You were like many of the survivors around him, happy to have loved ones back but head spinning and a weight on your shoulders that didn’t seem to go away. Bucky had only known an odd tingle in his body, going boneless, and then nothing. It only seemed like a second had passed and he was back on solid ground and stable feet. 

At first, your friendship was easy. Steve spoke of you highly for all your help and how you clung to hope no matter how many years passed. Bucky found you were funny, a lot like the blonde fool he’d been following for nearly his whole life. You and Steve were close, like siblings. Bucky and you werent. It wasn’t that you weren’t close. It was that you were nothing like siblings. The thought was laughable for Bucky and that was where the lines got blurred, your friendship not as easy as it had once been. 

You were engaged, had been since before the snap. Some guy from Shield. Asshole. That wasn’t the entire problem. Bucky wouldn’t push for anything, would never show that he cared more for you than you’d ever know. But you weren’t happy. You hadn’t been happy with Mickey or Mitchell, whatever, and Bucky knew if he was that man he’d have walked you down the isle long ago and made you smile every damn day after. 

You weren’t happy and that’s where Bucky’s boundaries got fuzzy. What was he supposed to do when you came crying to him early in the morning, knowing he’d be awake? Truthfully he’d been sleeping better since Shuri had come into his life with all her brilliant intelligence and technology, but he knew he couldn’t leave you to cry alone and so he stayed awake in case you came knocking. More often than not you did.

“Are you-” 

“Yes, I’m fine,” You sniffled. 

“But-”

“But what Bucky?” You snapped, pulling away from his warm embrace as your eyes glossed over again. He knew he’d been pushing but he was waiting for you to bend a little. You were made of strong stuff, durable. You wouldn’t break but he needed something from you and so he hoped when he pushed, you’d shove back. 

“What do you want me to say? That I’m lost? That I don’t know what I’m doing anymore with Tommy-” Tommy? Really? He hadn’t thought he’d been that far off. Silly name if you asked him. “-and I’m not sure if he’s ever going to commit like I want him to? What do you want me to tell you?” 

You pushed yourself back onto the other couch cushion, a throw pillow now being crushed in your arms as Bucky reclined further against the back of the couch. He almost wished he could disappear into it. For how good you made him feel, the butterflies and the giddy laughter always on his lips, he knew he also got easily trapped in the currents of your whirlwind emotions. It wasn’t your fault he was susceptible to drowning. Your eyes and your bleeding heart had him lost at sea with no life saver. 

Now his stomach was in knots for all the wrong reasons. You were upset, walls clearly slammed back up into place as you got defensive. He was just trying to help. He let out a frustrated grunt, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“The truth would be nice,” 

You scoffed but he saw how you clamped your teeth onto your bottom lip to keep it from quivering. Shaking your head you fixed him with a gaze that anyone else would call anger but to him seemed more like hopelessness. 

“Have I ever lied to you?”

“That’s not what I meant,” 

Your eyebrow quirked up and it would have been far more threatening if your eyes weren’t red and puffy. Bucky reached for your hand but you tucked it away, eyes tearing away from his as you shied away from him. 

“I’m just saying you know what’s in your heart and I think you’re ignoring it. Can you honestly look me in the eye and tell me your happy? That your fiance makes you happy? It’s been weeks we’ve been doing this Y/N, why can’t you admit to yourself that something is wrong? When was the last time you slept in your home instead of passing out on the couch with me?”

Bucky prayed you wouldn’t get defensive. 

You did.

“So this all has to be about you?” 

“No!” Bucky stood,his frustration at you rising and his need to move with it. 

“That’s what it sounds like! You want me to tell you all I’m feeling? You want me to tell you I’m fucking miserable and that I don’t think it’s working out with my fiance of seven years who I thought dead at one point and that I can’t let him go because he’s the person I love? You’re my friend Bucky, not my fucking therapist,” 

“Jesus Christ!” Bucky growled, hands tangling in his roots. “I just want you to be happy don’t you see that! I don’t care who the fuck makes you happy or what brings a smile to your face but whatever it is, I want you to go for it. I know I’m not your therapist, I’m talking to you as a friend like I always have. I don’t know why you’re so hesitant to accept that Tommy isn’t it for you and that there could be more for you out there whether it’s a different person or just a different life,” 

“Why does it matter so much to you!?” You stood too now, his anxious energy spreading to you as you both tried to keep from pacing. You tried to keep your voice down but you knew that no one would hear you anyways. 

“You’re being ridiculous,” Bucky shook his head sadly. You weren’t confronting the problem. He knew it was probably a low blow to name call but he was tired and he had been giving you so much. He was giving you his heart, his time, his energy. He hadn’t slept right in ages. He couldn’t sleep in case you needed him and his body wouldn’t let him sleep for too long. He liked to rise with the sun but soon enough it would be rising and he would probably still have yet to slide under his covers.

Bucky loved you but he didn’t recognize who you were in this moment with tangled hair and wild eyes, nails digging into your palm and breaths coming out harsh and shallow. You were breaking and he didn’t know how to put you back together without losing himself. 

He’d only just been found, he couldn’t be dragged under again now matter how much you meant to him.

“You are my friend and you matter to me,” He began again as you searched for words. “I want you to be happy and I’m sorry that I can’t help with that. God knows I’ve tried and God knows I’d do anything to put a smile on your face but I’m at my limit here Y/N...” 

Bucky couldn’t keep his voice from breaking and your eyes snapped up to his at the strangled tone. Your eyes seemed clearer as you stared at him but he wasn’t so sure now as his lower lids held back tears he wouldn’t allow to fall. 

“I want what’s best for you and I don’t know how to give it to you,” He admitted, lead in his stomach and eyes burning. “I hope after this you can find whatever that is, even if it’s your dumbass fiance.” 

“A-after this? Buck, what do you mean?” 

Ah, there she is. Bucky thought, smililng ruefully. Your eyes were bright albeit confused. He knew he might be getting through to you but he knew if he stayed then the clarity would be gone and he’d see you in a couple days time with tears streaming down your cheeks and arms open, begging to be held. 

“Like I said doll, I’m at my limit. I love you and I’m one lucky bastard that I got to know you but I think it’s better for both of us if I get away and let you handle what you need to on your own,” 

You opened your mouth, then closed it. Opened again, closed once more. Then the resigned nod came, eyes half lidded and downcast as you tried to process his words even though he saw the way you tensed, heart skipping a vital beat as your rhythm was thrown off beat. He knew you cared, knew you always would but you didn’t care like he did and he couldn’t take himself apart to put you back together. 

“What if I don’t find that happiness you’re talking about?” You croaked.

 “You’ll find it,” Bucky stepped forward, allowing himself to kiss your hairline and take in your subtle scent of coffee- more specifically the dark roast you brewed every morning- always making sure to save him a cup. As well as your aloe lotion and the salt from your tears.  “And once you do, I’ll be back,” 

He knew if he stayed, let you ask why, he wouldn’t be able to turn away. So before you could say a word he backed away from you. The last view he saw of you before going to the garages to grab a car and get away- get anywhere that wasn’t here- was you falling to the couch on shaking legs tears renewed. 

The next time he saw you, you’d be much happier. 

Tag List: @angelinathebook @thehumanistsdiary @cleopatera

#post infinity war #all is happy #give bucky a love life #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #late night drabble #oof #writers block amirite

[ofcloudsandstars]

Celestial Forecast

Week of April 6-12

Highlights:

Tomorrow on the 7th is going to be amazing with the full Supermoon in Libra amongst other helpful aspects

On Friday the 10th Mercury and Eros will conjunct in Pisces making it an exciting day

Saturday the 11th Mercury moves into Aries!

Sunday the 12th Eros moves into Aries!! 

First before diving into this I want to thank everyone for sending positive energy my way when I asked for it cause I think it did manage to like dowse the fire a bit in my life with this horrible person I am trapped with in quarantine. Things are a bit better now though I feel it may pick up again but it's nice to have a break though these celestial transits look like a mess though I am excited for the full moon this week.

Anyways! Are you ready for the pinnacle of Aries season? This week's energy kicks off with a glorious full moon in Libra, the oasis of the fiery Aries season. If you have started fires with people you are trapped with in this quarantine, this moment of relief can be your reconciliation period. Additionally it can be the time to bring things to justice if you feel that reconciliation isn't always an option. If nothing is affecting your directly you may feel called to bring justice or make amends for the injustice in the world. The planetary aspects are only going to get spicier from here on as more celestial bodies shift into Aries making our movements, thoughts and direction more excited and determined.

Note: I am london based and the time is set to GMT

_________________________

6th

☾ Moon in Virgo Trines with Pluto than Jupiter in Capricorn and Sedna in Taurus

☾ VOC 2:28PM-10:16PM ☾ Moon enters Libra ☾ Lunar Trine with Saturn in Aquarius

Energy: With the moon wrapping up in Virgo it will trine Pluto then jupiter in Capricorn along with making a trine with Sedna in Taurus. This is a good time to wrap up whatever has happened in the weekend and reflect on it as the moon trining with Pluto and Sedna will help review any deep rooted feelings you may be holding onto. Additionally with the moon trining Pluto you will have an increased emotional sensitivity and psychic ability that could help boost your magic and divination skills today. The moon trining Sedna can help you see possibilities in where you can pour energy into to progress and or make the best out of your situation. With the moon trining Jupiter you can find yourself in a more positive mood which will help mellow out the feelings that can be brought up with pluto and sedna's trine. Your energy applied towards endeavors of work, your values, money or uncompleted tasks would benefit the most today with the moon completing it's transit in virgo and the other planets it's trining in earth signs. (Of course in a sense of reflection and doing what you can since we are all lockdown.)

The moon will enter Libra at 10:16PM GMT which will help to mellow out the vibes. Like cool ranch to hot sauce the Libra moon in Aries season gives a new perspective, sense of calm and clarity towards your direction or any current conflicts taking place. At least you know a break is coming on it's way. The moon in Libra will trine with Saturn in Aquarius creating a mood of increased responsibility and maturity. There will be the patience and emotional strength to handle sensitive or difficult relationship issues. If you don't have a fire to put out (lucky you) this energy could be applied as well towards facing any uncomfortable situations in life or focusing on what your community needs.

Recommendations: Energy work magic and spells, divination, shadow work, cleansing and cleaning, sweetening spells towards asshole people in your life.

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7th

Full moon in Libra

Mercury in Pisces sextiles Jupiter and Pluto in Capricorn

Mars in Aquarius squares Uranus in Taurus

☾ Lunar Conjunction with Juno rx in Libra ☾ Lunar Trine with Venus in Gemini than Mars in Aquarius

Energy: Today the best full moon of the year (sorry I am a Libra) will be mighty high in the night sky and you will feel it's amazing energy. Also known as the 'Pink Moon' the energy it brings will help to bring some order and some fucking chill at last to aries season. This moon will also be a Supermoon since it will be at it's closest possible proximity to the earth. If you check your astrology app to see when Moon rise is, you will see it huge on the horizon. (6:55PM London time). The full moon in Aries season highlights what's unfair and attempts to bring justice. This is a good time to focus energy towards the injustices in the world highlighted by the pandemic. If you may be swamped with your own issues, this full moon will attempt to rectify that for you. Additionally if you are feeling great and don't need additional help (please send good vibes out to everyone that does please haha) the full Libra moon is INCREDIBLE for love magic. Though love magic may be the last thing on our minds (we are locked up so it's unlikely for Romeo to find us but also with the threat of the collapse of society we may also not care about romance just at the moment), this will be a great time to put out in the world that you are seeking a significant other. It's also amazing for friendship magic especially if you are craving finding a community. Now is a time for communities to come together so it would be great to put out attraction magic for that. The moon will also conjunct Juno retrograding in Libra which will highlight our feelings towards where we have been devoting our energy towards and if it was the right place to begin with. We may review what makes us feel complete and with the culminating energies of the celestial bodies (especially sun in Aries) we may review our direction and rethink what makes us feel whole. Additionally the moon conjunct Juno rx will make us think about our partnerships and reflect on what we would like in a partner or friendship. This is great energy for attracting new friends or a community that could help you. Just remember to be very specific in your manifestation. The Full Supermoon will also trine with Venus in Gemini bringing additional love, tenderness, harmony and friendship. The energy is right to make amends and attract love and support into your life. If we weren't all LOCKED UP this combination would make Libra full moon in the middle of spring the ideal time to find romance but with Venus in gemini maybe we can take new ways of dating or connecting with new friends online and that can be the new place for the energy to thrive. The moon will also make a trine with Mars in Aquarius giving the courage and initiative to make the first move or take the lead. This is great energy to initiate peace or (once again) ask someone out on a date. It's ok to be direct and assertive and initiate peaceful communication. It'll also give courage to stand up for yourself and defend your rights. Partnerships aside this is great energy to help fight injustices caused by this pandemic or support your community.

Lunar transits aside, there will also be some powerful energy from other celestial transits. Mars and Uranus will be making a hard square initiating any changes in the home or personal life. It's a good day to visualize what you want and put it into action before Uranus decides that for you in it's wonderfully SURPRISING spin-the-wheel type way. This combination of energy also gives a HUGE urge to break free from restriction and rebel. This energy can be incredibly rash which could bring consequences but with the moon and it's positive aspects you can help to bring balance to the chaos and direct that energy in a positive way to get what you need done. With the specifics of mars in aquarius and uranus in Taurus a lot of that pent up energy may be naturally directed towards the needs of the community and our values shifting around the natural environment and our money (or systems of values that naturally includes currency since crapitalism has been ruling our lives for generations now).

Mercury will also make a positive sextile with Jupiter and Pluto in Capricorn. Mercury sextiling Jupiter helps to think and plan about the future. It will also help us to open our perspective especially in regards to matters of money, authority, government and business. Having an expanded perspective will also help beneficially to all the other transits I've illustrated previously. There will also be a boost for great communication skills which will also help with diplomatic negotiations and peaceful communications. Mercury's sextile with Pluto adds additional depth and intensity to thinking and conversations. You can also use this day for in depth study and research especially on topics of the occult. Take your government authorized walk of the day to your local greenery and read up on any neglected occult/witchcraft books you've been neglecting or add to your grimoire. (A book I strongly DO NOT recommend is apocalyptic witchcraft haha. It may seem appropriate in these times but the book sucks trust me.) Your intellect and persuasive powers will also be amplified in this time helping with your communication.

Recommendations: So many things! New Partnerships Attraction Magic (whether that be loving friendships, community, a romantic partner etc), Sweetening spells, quelling any fires in your life, shadow work and reviewing your direction in life, helping out your community, peace spells for the community or earth, blessings for ones in needs,  Writing in your grimoire! Deeping your magical studies, restoring harmony and balance to your life, divination to analyze the direction you need to take from here.

______________________

8th

☾ Lunar Opposition with Chiron in Aries

☾ Lunar Square with Pluto than Jupiter in Capricorn

☾ Lunar Trine with Ceres in Aquarius

☾ VOC 1:49PM-9:16PM

☾ Moon enters Scorpio ☾ Lunar Square with Saturn in Aquarius

Energy: The energy today will be confrontational as the moon wrapping up it's transit in Libra will want to continue making amends in the darker areas of our psyche. It will create opposition with Chiron in Aries which can help us understand the pain others may be experiencing and shed some empathy. Additionally it could create a moody atmosphere as we may feel isolated and misunderstood if we could not defend ourselves against injustices. It's a good day to isolate and self reflect if your home life is still not great. Additionally the moon in Libra will square Pluto in Capricorn which can bring up deeply buried feelings and expose secrets. However with the moon trying to bring the best energy out with it transiting Libra it may try to expose and bring justice to any emotional power struggles within the house and or family and maybe expose any manipulators or abuse with it's square in Pluto. (At least the energy today would be great for a Let-Everyone-See-What-An-Abusive-Ass-You-Truly-Are curse to anyone abusing you). Additionally the moon is going to square Jupiter which also brings some positive energy but there can always be a tendency for excess in the areas of drinking or spending too much. Be wary about over indulgence. The moon in Libra's last transit will trine with Ceres bringing out your need to care for yourself and your community which could also help smooth over any issues with the opposition with Chiron in Aries.

The moon entering Scorpio will bring an intense mood as deeper feelings get brought to the surface. Whatever could be hidden will be brought up like an unblocked shower drain. There will be a square with Saturn in Aquarius and usually though this tension may produce negative results (such as feeling solemn, isolated and burdened) with everything happening previously this has the positive ability for people to take responsibility for their emotional actions or even better: abusive or unhealthy relationships could find their end. Protect yourself against any negative energy and try to channel new positive relationships because this full moon transit is really seeking to make positive amends towards all of your relationships.

Recommendations: Exposing your abusers or abusers in society through revealing spell magic. Confronting emotionally manipulative people and setting boundaries cause the planets got your back. Self care and bath magic (if you don't feel like being confrontational),

General Scorpio Moon magic: water based magic, shadow work, sex magic, energy work, blood magic

______________________

9th

☾ Moon in Scorpio

☾ Lunar Opposition with Sedna in Taurus

☾ Lunar Square with Mars in Aquarius

Energy: Today will be a great day to take a walk or find a safe space in your home for others as the Moon in Scorpio will make a square with Mars in Aquarius and oppose Sedna in Taurus. Moon squaring Mars can bring up repressed anger exploding to the surface like a pressure cooker. This could be potential backlash for confronting abusers or cornering them in their own mess. It's best to take a step away and go for a walk or stay somewhere where you know you can be safe and isolated. Protection magic is heavily advised today. Sedna bringing it's alchemical energy of transforming life from darkness can help bring us new perspective after all the energy we have took in after the full super moon. If we do get tangled in the fiery square of the moon and Mars this can unfortunately make us feel victimized by life and a bit hopeless as we will feel trapped in our own underworld. Today will be a good day to visualize what outcome we want to manifest from all of this and set our desires and needs straight and put energy towards materializing it. That will be a helpful outlet to channeling the pent up energy.

Recommendations: Writing down what we want and reflecting on it or manifesting it. Protection magic. Fire-based curses if people don't know how to leave you alone.

______________________

10th

Mercury and Eros conjunct in Pisces

☾ Lunar Trine with Neptune, Mercury and Eros in Pisces ☾ Lunar Sextile with Pluto than Jupiter in Capricorn ☾ VOC 8:34-9:35PM ☾ Moon enters Sagittarius ☾ Lunar Sextile with Saturn in Aquarius

Energy: Today will be a great day to express our passions as Mercury and Eros will conjunct in dreamy pisces. Rolling on from the energy yesterday the focus of where we need to project our energy and redefine our goals (as the whole world is shifting) can get helpful insight with this pair conjoined. (Also strange side note- with Eros also being the asteroid of desires and sex the energy could help with a lot of online flirting or putting energy towards learning our expanding our minds about new passions.)  Additionally where we will focus our new desires and dreams will set the tone for the weekend as both Mercury and Eros will shift into Aries and restart their new cycle in the Zodiac transits.

The moon in Scorpio will amplify this energy as it will make a beneficial trine with Neptune, Mercury and Eros in Pisces. We will feel emotionally inclined to create, re-dream and explore new passions and desires. Sex may strongly be on our mind (especially with the moon in Scorpio and it's trine with Eros) which can bring frustrations to those in quarantine who can't express their spring fever. However the energy could be beneficial to channel into sex magic if you are a practitioner. The moon will also sextile Pluto and Jupiter in Capricorn giving us answers and helpful opportunities from it's previous square two days ago. The moon sextiling pluto can bring up hidden emotions that all parties can learn from. Anything in a state of decay or strife can be reborn into something better now. Issues can be resolved, bad habits can be broken, renewal can occur in the home and private life. The sextile with Jupiter can only bring additional benefits, emotional growth, friendly support and give a need to help out others.

The moon will finish it's void of course at 9:35PM (GMT) then enter Sagittarius giving a friendly atmosphere full of optimism. This moon will also help us to reshift our perspective and look for truth. With it's sextile with Saturn we may feel driven to help out our family, home or community. Additionally this may make you feel like you want to avoid socail situations but this is a good time to call up a friend and share how you've been. You will have additional patience and understand to take on tedious tasks that can help the group.  

Recommendations: Divination (especially focusing on what we want in life and where we should shift our goal posts towards), sex magic, magic for peace and reconciliation, blessings for your community

General Sagittarius moon magic: Luck Spells, truth revealed magic, physical activities that are Energy-Moving that can be channeled into magic such as Dancing (especially since Dancing is fun), money magic, positive energy raising

______________________

11th

Mercury enters Aries Mercury in Aries sextiles Saturn in Aquarius

☾ Lunar Opposition with Venus in Gemini ☾ Lunar Trines with Mercury and Chiron in Aries ☾ Lunar Sextile with Mars in Aquarius

Energy: Mercury enters Aries starting a chapter of fresh perspectives, new goals and new drive. For a month our communication may become more snappy and aggressive (ugh) which can attempt to re-ignite any fires of the full supermoon in Libra but that energy can also be positively channeled into new ventures which can excite us. Mercury will also make a positive sextile with Saturn in Aquarius which will bring clear thinking, good judgement and organization. It will be tense yet good energy that can help with setting boundaries, goals and striving towards them.

The moon in Sagittarius will make an opposition with Venus in Gemini which in the context of everything could make us less harmonious with one another. Therefore boundary setting is important so that any abusive people will not have another chance to plant a foot anywhere that makes you uncomfortable (after all the lovely beneficial energy that the super Libra moon brings the planets with their aries energy STILL can't chill!). We may also feel a little lonely and isolated in the receiving-love department so it's a nice day to call up a friend and tell them how much you appreciate them and just have a good chat. However The moon will also trine with Mercury and Chiron in Aries which can give a new clear perspective on your feelings and also deep emotional wounds. This dynamic can also help you connect with friends, family and loved ones on a more intimate level You will have a chance to reflect and address your own deep emotional issues. This is also a great day for dream magic as dreams will be more vivid and informative with the moon trining mercury. Especially with the moon in adventurous Sagittarius, unfortunately adventures may be restricted with the pandemic but that doesn't mean that we cannot adventure in our dreams! Dreams can help us reveal how we may feel about past painful events but find answers to them.

Lastly the moon will sextile with Mars in Aquarius which will also give a boost to Mercury's new chapter in Aries. Making the first move in relationships will be favored and taking lead in your projects will be beneficial. This sextile gives a passionate enthusiasm to work and play which can help us as we redirect our energy towards something more beneficial towards our futures.

Recommendations: Shadow Work especially mixing it in with Dream Oracling, setting boundaries, protection magic, warding, prosperity spells, organizing the details of our goals

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12th

Eros moves into Aries

☾ Lunar Square with Neptune in Pisces ☾ Lunar Trine with Sun in Aries ☾ Lunar Sextile with Ceres in Aquarius ☾ VOC 12:45PM - 1:05AM Next day

Energy: The little asteroid of passions, desires and our sexuality will start it's new cycle in Aries today giving additional fuel to Mercury's shift in Aries and our refocus on what goals make us feel passionate. Additionally Eros in Aries is incredibly harmonious energy that increases our sex drive and general motivation to achieve our desires. The moon will wrap up it's transit in Sagittarius today and bring some interesting energy with it. The moon will make a positive sextile with the sun leaving the week (or starting the week depending where you live as Sunday is the beginning of the week in the US), on a lovely note as we will feel a sense of inner balance, harmony and contentment in life. Cooperation and working together is favored today as well as reconciliation (the theme of this week and the full moon's effect honestly). The moon will also make a positive sextile with Ceres in Aquarius that will urge us to want to take care of ourselves and or extend our blessings to loved ones. Treat/nurture yourself in Aquarian ways such as online soundbaths (those are popular in these days), meditation (especially with crystals), binural beats or in new ways you have never explored before such as picking a new show to watch, trying to cook a new dish, learning about something new to expand your perspective. The moon will also make a square with Neptune in Pisces which will make the day fun to escape in a new series or inner venture. However like all squares be careful with the pent up energy as a square between the Moon and Neptune can cloud our intuition and make us more vulnerable to deception (and in some cases being taken advantage of) as well as prone to getting too lost in the sauce since our tolerance to substances are lower than usual. Today one foot can be on the other side of the veil so protect yourself and escape in a fun and controlled safe way.

Recommendations: Take note of the VOC at 12:45PM GMT and try to do manifestations before then. Otherwise: LUCK magic, blessings for loved ones (and yourself), trance magic (why not? Get lost in the sauce actually lol), self care and self love magic.  

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