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ephemerlskies · 4 years

Text

of honey and cinnamon | jjk

⇢ pairing: jungkook x reader

⇢ genre: fluff, one shot, slice of life au, enemies to lovers, musician!jungkook

⇢ word count: 14k

⇢ warnings: explicit language, mentions of terminal illness, mentions of death, themes of grief, slight plot twist, a surprising consumption of sugar, enough cheesiness to last you a lifetime

⇢ summary: what makes a three-day train ride back to your hometown anything but dull and dreadfully long? the answer, and your salvation from a boring trip home, was being stuck in the same cart as jeon jungkook for the entire ride there. unknown to you, he would turn this mundane trip into an unexpected adventure.

♪ playlist: dream a little dream of me - ella fitzgerald, departure - joe hisaishi, a journey (a dream of flight) - joe hisaishi, longing for mother's return - satoshi takebe, the sixth station - joe hisaishi, a town with an ocean view - joe hisaishi, you're in love - joe hisaishi, one summer's day - joe hisaishi ♪

a/n: this was honestly one of my favorite fics to write! ever! it was heavily inspired by studio ghibli movies hence the playlist because i recently binged a bunch of ghibli films (and i do not regret it) so, i tried to replicate the vibes from the movies i watched as best as i could!! :)) i hope you lovely readers enjoy!

They tell you love takes time. If you are patient and attentive enough, it courses through your body easier than your own blood and sinks itself in each vessel and bone and cell. Love will melt into your heart until that is all it knows. And in tales where lovers make grand gestures, like slaying the dragon and giving the moon and the stars and the sky along with the world underneath it and bestowing true love's kiss, it takes an entire story to get to the part where they are in love.

Love takes time, and in that time, there is a series of sometimes likely, and sometimes unlikely, events woven delicately within each minute that leads to the moment you know, you are in love. Traditionally, love makes itself known. It is loud and beautiful and anything but hidden within the ordinary moments used to fill in the gaps between the bigger moments.

This story, your story, existed during the moments in between.

This train station had always emulated such an archaic ambiance. So much so that you believed you'd traveled back in time to when it was first built. Everything felt surreal, when you stepped on the train making a beeline to Cart 102, the floors felt like water; the surface tension clinging just strong enough to keep you afloat not without the occasional toss and turn. You swore it was just the rusted tracks that jostled you, but a part of you knew it was the water.

"Single rider?" The attendant stood at your cart's checkpoint, hand extended and waiting for your ticket.

"Yes, here." You handed him the paper, along with your baggage but kept the book for future entertainment and the pillow because you could tell the seats were no softer than wood.

"The train is fully occupied, so someone will be sharing your cart."

Perfect. If the world wants to do you a favor, just this once, then you hope that it sends you a quiet passenger. One that exchanges the customary 'hello' and 'goodbye' which is the extent of your interaction with them because you were tired in a way that sunk you into your zone of unsociability and on your way back home for the worst possible reason.

And the world did, in fact, do you a favor. It delivered Jungkook to Cart 102. But it just was not the favor you expected.

At first, you believed him to tick all your requirements for the ideal travel companion. Perfectly manicured company with a clear sense of boundaries. For one, he entered with a wall of silence that not only kept a greeting gated in but even the slightest acknowledgment that you were seated right across from him. It was so natural for him to ignore you that you had to glance down at your hand to check if you really were invisible.

He took his seat, stared out of the frost dusted window that reflected the sliding door that separated you and this man from the rest of the train and the world, and sighed. For a moment, he just stared and you thought it would get easier from here. But then he turned to you, and smiled.

"Hi, I'm Jungkook." It was a full smile, one that showed nearly every tooth, which reminded you of a rabbit. That paid enough respect for the previous shouldered entrance, and at first it was cute. Then, it made you feel guilty.

It was a smile you couldn't afford to return at the moment, so instead, you offered back a slightly upturned lip and a cordial nod.

"___." His hands looked strong like they had handled an array of heavy things and had the calluses to prove it. The way he sat made you feel a spark of something.

It was only a few seconds later when you realized that something was an unbridled annoyance. His legs were spread out, having you picturing the times he'd monopolize the space on a crowded bus. Jungkook was probably the type of man who was born with an entitlement that carried through to every part of his life, including the way he sat down on trains and pissed the living hell off of you.

"Like what you see?" Now you were pissed off for two reasons. The way he sat and the fact that you just got caught staring at him; his lap to be specific.

Soon, the two reasons doubled when your eyes returned to the smile on his face that didn't seem to have gone away. He was proud to catch you in the act, and most likely assumed your staring was due to an attraction so gripping that you couldn't help yourself but to stare at his crotch of all things.

"No, I was just..." Your words caught in your throat, because you weren't about to explain why his spread position on the seat had drawn an irritation from you thicker than the blood pulsing loudly through your body. You didn't want him to know you cared enough to be irritated in the first place, even if that meant letting him believe your staring was a form of unspoken flattery. "No."

"Okay, whatever you say, ___." It was the sarcasm this time, and the way he said your name that pissed you off. There was a seed inside you, ready to bury in your gut and grow just enough for you to rip his tongue from his mouth so he'd never have to say your name again.

"You'd think you didn't want to make the person you're about to spend three days on a train with angry, but maybe you're just that dumb." Insulting him gave you instant relief from the headache you knew was about to assume your forehead.

"Damn. Guess you're not the type to take a joke." Jungkook revealed his teeth one by one again, but you didn't describe it as a smile. A smile is something you thought to be beautiful, a physical expression of joy. No, what his face possessed was something sadistic. You were sure of it.

The way he carried himself and voiced his thoughts were more concentrated than arrogance. There was not a word in any language that could properly describe Jungkook. Nor was there a feeling that could render yours into something palpable. And the world had sealed you inside this cell marked Cart 102 with the person who was grainy and slick like quicksand, and just as deadly because you were sinking into him and every feeling he had provoked within the ten minutes you'd known him.

Jungkook was the first person you hated. Beyond every rude customer, every demanding boss, every high school bully, every cut tie, there was Jungkook who wore that heavy medallion of hatred around his neck like he was proud of it.

In all honesty, you thought he should wear it. He earned it. Everyone should know that you hated Jungkook and that it only took him a record-breaking ten minutes to attain the once unattained title.

You began to read your book, however 'read' didn't accurately describe what you were doing, which was staring blankly through the same words while collecting more reasons why you hated this man. It became an obsession of yours in a few short moments, because now you didn't just hate the way he sat and spoke and smiled. You hated how his breathing was somehow louder than the wheels grinding against the metal tracks or how whenever another train would pass by, he'd bring his face so close to the window you could see the warmth of his breath cling onto the glass and form a small, foggy patch.

You especially hated that you could quite literally feel his eyes on you, blistering your skin like the way a magnifying glass would redirect the sun's rays onto a target, which just so happened to be your face. Jungkook was unrelenting; as if he were trying to sear your skin with a permanent brand of his eyes.

Between the rhythmic flipping of the pages that you weren't reading, you were compelled to reprimand him for the staring. Maybe throwing his own words back into his face about 'liking what you see' would do your own vengeance justice. But that might indicate you were thinking of what he said to you this whole time.

"The weather looks so cold. It's practically raining." You moved only your eyes up from your book to study him.

He was looking out the window again, eyes chasing each speck of mist preluding the raindrops that were surely going to fall. It always rained at night.

"Looks like another thunderstorm." You packaged up the gasp that was about to burst from your chest.

For reasons you'd rather not share with a complete stranger you were hellbent on hating, you were terrified of thunder. Not lightning, but the loud crash that followed it. It was the last thing you wanted to experience while bottled up in a train with Jungkook.

"Excuse me." Your abrupt stance interrupted Jungkook's rain watching.

"Hey, where are you going?"

"None of your business." The slam of the sliding door echoed the anger you didn't express before as it snapped shut, fractionating the air you once shared with Jungkook.

You took a deep breath, the air outside felt cooler. The attendant was loyal to his assigned post, which was convenient for you.

"Sir, is there any way I can switch carts?"

"No, full train. And your ticket says Cart 102, so that's where you were meant to be." His eyes were sheltered by his hat, so there was no chance of pleading with your eyes if you couldn't even see his.

"Fine." It was a long shot, one that you didn't have the aim or trajectory for. You suppose he was right. Cart 102 was where you belonged for now. You just couldn't accept that Jungkook also belonged there with you.

Inside, the warm yellow light was beckoning you back in. Through the door, the brightness glimmered out until it was consumed by the dark hall where you stood. Jungkook was looking out of the window again with a rising and falling chest; you could hear his breathing even from behind the door or at least, you could imagine how it would sound.

"If we're going to share a cart, we could at least be friends." Jungkook's suggestion made him too human, too real for you to hate. You wanted to cling on to the idea that he was a horrible person, harboring more vices than the devil himself. But his voice was friendly sometimes, and his smile looked loving, occasionally, when he presented it to you.

"I don't see why we can't just be silent for the rest of the ride."

"Why are you going back home?" For a second, you were shocked enough to forget you were supposed to hate him. His gaze was calm and carried none of the worries yours had. You wondered, just for a second, about all the others who were on the receiving end of his gaze, and if they felt the way you felt when he looked at you. That look that distinguished him from anyone you had ever met.

You didn't want him to be right, because you didn't want the 'why' to be real. The tragedy, the only thing demanding enough to peel you away from your life away from home, should not have been the 'why' that put you on this train. But it was, and it made you angrier than he did.

"How do you know I'm going home?" You injected each word with a sharpness that you hoped would sting Jungkook.

"Well, are you going home?"

"Yes... are you?"

"No, just visiting." His eyes returned to the window, like a refrain in a poem. Always returning to look somewhere out into the beyond.

"Well, you should count yourself lucky." And you returned back to your refrain, pretending to read just so you wouldn't get caught staring at him and listing more reasons you hated Jungkook because that was easier than thinking of what was really bothering you.

"Lucky. Huh." You wanted to know what was so captivating on the other side of the window. What could have possibly supplied his eyes with something that was more interesting than the inside of this train? "Why are you going back home?"

"You already asked that."

"And you didn't answer me." Perhaps it was the stars, and he was tracking them in his mental inventory, examining until they were replicated along his memory the same way they were plotted across the sky. "Why are you going back home?"

"My mom. She's dying." Stars seemed to be a beautiful thing to keep your eyes occupied in a way your mind couldn't be, but you couldn't see past the thick fog and lack of light. "She's sick."

"I'm sorry to hear." His sincerity worked against all the animosity you'd cultivated for him.

How could he see the stars? You were going to ask, but you didn't want him to know what lied beyond the small beacon of light surrounding the train was lost to you, or rather you lost them. You wanted to hate him, so you didn't ask.

"I knew something bad must have happened to get someone like you to come home." That comment certainly suffocated any benefit of the doubt you were going to bestow upon him. Jungkook was arrogant and entitled, and in your most recent discovery, presumptuous and judgmental. Everything wrong with this world. No amount of dashing smiles and considerate questions could change that. You had to remember, you hated this man

"How dare you! How- How dare you assume something so rude!" The cloth of your pillowcase had almost worn through from how tight your fists were gripping them. You felt the fire burning through your nerves, soon about to combust and set Cart 102 ablaze. "I hate you."

It was two in the morning, or at least those were the numbers shining from your watch. The window offered the same pitch blackness that frustrated you, so you decided to give your legs some employment from sitting.

The hall of the train was nearly as dark as the outside; the overhead lights once drizzling down a soft glow were turned off. You wandered down the stretch of the medium but the further you walked, the thinner the walkway felt. Soon, the walls on either side of you were pressed against your shoulders so snugly, you had to turn your body to squeeze through.

"Having trouble?" You knew that voice; you hated that familiar inflections and conceit planted in each word he spoke.

"Can't you see I'm trying to walk?" Squinting proved to be obsolete while trying to see whatever destination was in the distance. "Why is everything so dark?"

"Because, you're not trying." If you could turn around, if these walls weren't beginning to smother your body to immobilization, then you would have run over to him and slapped the smile right off of his face. Because you were trying, you were trying to see this whole time but the dark had infested everywhere.

Unfortunately for you, the walls were connecting closer and closer, as if trying to move through you so they could reach each other and close altogether. But where would that leave you? When the gap was stitched shut, where would you be?

The walls were softer than you thought, but still forceful enough to steal all the air from your lungs leaving you a panicked mess lodged between these unkind walls. And the pressure wasn't enough to kill you, but it was just enough to leave you stuck and miserable.

"Jungkook, help me, I can't..."

Day One

Your dream was vivid enough to mislead you into thinking it was real. It wasn't until your eyes fluttered open, and consciousness spilled into your mind like a gentle breeze that you realized the nightmare was over. The window allowed a soft light into Cart 102, making you more thankful for the day than you had ever been in your entire life. You lifted your head from your pillow placed on the seat that you didn't recall placing there, and now that you think of it, you didn't remember falling asleep either.

You especially didn't remember covering yourself with this wool coat that smelled like the air after a bonfire had just finished browning marshmallows and dissolving wood.

"Someone's finally awake." Then it all came back to you. You wondered why everything felt so tranquil. It was a shame you couldn't enjoy the peace before the omen of annoyance, your special nickname for Jungkook, had returned.

"What time is it?" Your eyes were blinking away the sleep, and when that failed, your hands began to rub them until they were able to prop open fully.

"Eight-thirty. Here." He set down a Styrofoam cup of something hot enough for steam to escape through the open space of the lid. It smelled sweeter than coffee.

"What is it?" Your question came after you had already picked it up to furnish your hands with warmth and your nose with the delectable aroma leaking from this cup.

Jungkook’s smile was hidden behind his cup, already half empty, withholding an answer from you because he wanted to see if you would try it before you knew what it was.

"Don't worry, it's not poison." You figured it could be counted as retribution in the form of a nice pick-me-up for all the irritation he'd caused you, not to mention the fact that even in your dreams, he couldn't seem to leave you alone. No, Jungkook's presence was something that would slip through the realm of your sleep, the only place you thought you could escape him.

You sipped slowly, and the drink inside the cup made a quick and favorable acquaintance with your tongue. The contents were something you'd be able to identify separately, but when combined, they were delicious and elusive all at once.

"Wow, this is great!" The smile escaped faster than a spilled cup of water, and before you could clean the messy evidence of your gratitude, Jungkook returned the same smile, but his wasn't a spill; his smiles were never an accident, and you could almost resent him for it.

Almost.

"You like it, huh? Didn't take you to be a fan of sweet things." Both pairs of eyes were taken by the scenery just on the other side of the window decorated with streaks of the fallen dew drops.

His pride was untamed, and you assumed it was because Jungkook never took any action to dilute his own conceit. You liked to imagine how often Jungkook could arm himself with that smile, that laugh, which you were not too blind in your own despise to admit were both conventionally attractive assets of his, and everyone in a ten foot radius would fall into his hands. The world seemed to rest in his hands, and all he had to do was smile.

Not you, though. You were certain you had polished yourself with enough perspective so you wouldn’t be foolish enough to let something as shallow as a charming smile fracture your walls. Though, it was increasingly frustrating, verging on the point of catastrophe, how difficult it was to convince yourself of this and to ignore the image of his smile, sneaking its way to the forefront of your thoughts after brushing it off seconds before.

It was overcast, and the grey from the sky had permeated along the air below, yet it didn't puncture the vibrancy of the ever-extending grassy plains. They seemed to continue on forever, as if you walked out to the horizon it would take an eternity to find the end of the green landscape. The wind acted as music to which each blade of grass had been dancing an instinctive choreography.

And every so often, a patch of flowers would appear, perform its part, then disappear just as quickly.

For a moment, you wondered what Jungkook thought of the small bits of the world this window was displaying. Did he think it was just as beautiful as you did?

"It's honey, cinnamon, and milk. My mom used to make it for me when I was a kid." Though the view was timeless, you finally broke your gaze to look at Jungkook.

It was hard to imagine this man, the harbinger of almost every ounce of anger you have ever felt in your life, as a child who would drink milk with honey and cinnamon made by his mother. But then again Jungkook's face began to change, or at least the way you saw it morphed into something entirely different.

His bright eyes didn't look like they could be from this world. Not when they seemed to hold everything in his line of vision within them so warmly that it could spread magic over everything around him; like a fairy tale, but this magic rested in the two sockets of his eyes. Something so enigmatic made you want to snap at him just so he would look at you instead, and hold you in his eyes. As though to be held by his eyes would fix all your problems.

"Hm." You looked down at the cup, trying to savor each sip however ultimately failing since the honey melted in with the milk and perfectly heightened each flavor.

Without thinking, you wrapped the coffee-colored coat tighter around your body. It was blissful, sipping a cup of delight inside Cart 102, protected from the prickly wind of the winter while still being vended a view of its beauty. This train ride was almost perfect, if not for the (slightly less) bothersome burden that sat across from you.

"Looks good on you." He didn't have to specify he was referring to his jacket that was giving you comfort.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't-"

"Nah, keep it. You looked cold when you were asleep. You were shivering so much it basically sounded like you were begging for my jacket." Jungkook laughed softly.

Maybe two hours ago you would have been brimming with enough rage to rip his jacket off of you and throw it in his face because it sure sounded like he was pitying you or guilting you into a 'thank you' that you were too petty to relinquish. But now, in the morning that tamed you, stomach digesting a tasty drink given by none other than Jungkook, you let it slide.

Just this once, you thought.

"Well, that was very kind of you. And thank you for the drink, but I don't need some stranger doing me any favors."

"Wow, you sure are stubborn!" He laughed again, even though you had been nothing but uninviting of his advances, he just laughed.

"Am not." You muttered.

"Whatever you say." Just this once, you let him have the last word. Just this once.

One emptied cup of Jungkook's special later and you were energized enough to read, and hopefully retain the story rather than flipping mindlessly through the pages while you fueled your attention with rage.

Jungkook was busying himself, putting thought to paper. The quick ticks of his pencil against the wooden table was enough to earn him a passive-aggressive sigh from you, and you hoped he was perceptive enough to get the hint.

The ticks continued, even spaced out to a consistent pace as if he was beating a drum just to anger you. Your annoyance was once again brimming over, ready to spill into another display of it that consisted of a furrowed brow, a scowl, and a slew of incoherent retorts that had been brewing in your mind.

"Can't you write any quieter?" It hadn't measured up to all the clever insults you had loaded into your verbal weaponry, but it did the job to convey your frustration which obviously hadn't been communicated through your previous sigh.

"I'm not writing, actually! I'm trying to figure out the time signature for this piece. Three-six just isn't right." The pencil once tapping out a rhythm was now tucked between his teeth, and you could tell this was a habit of his from the various other tooth-shaped indents along the end of the pencil.

"Whatever, just... do it quietly."

"Quietly? This process is anything but quiet."

"Then try your very hardest."

"I'll try. Emphasis on try."

Though your eyes had reunited with your book, your curiosity pledged allegiance to what Jungkook was writing on his paper. It took an effortful battle between your urges and your restraint to finally ask him.

"What's a time signature?"

"Kind of like a rhythmic guide. For music. I'm a composer, and I'm hoping I can get this fellowship to work with professionals all around the world!" Jungkook's response came almost immediately after your question and his answer consisted of more information than you asked for, which meant this was something he was passionate about. Either that or he just loved talking about himself. It could have easily been both.

However, from the way his eyes held the world, they seemed to hold the music etched onto his paper the tightest. Like, if he were to let go then he would lose any and all purpose to hold on to anything else.

"You make music? Like songs on the radio and stuff?"

"No, not really. Songs for movies. I want to be a film composer."

"Oh. Is that why you're traveling? To study with a professional?" You surprised yourself more than him with that question.

"No... I, um. I wish that was the reason." Before asking him what his reason was, you stopped yourself from letting yet another question slip from your mouth.

Because you were supposed to hate him. Jungkook made everything difficult, even the notion of hating him was made to be a challenge. Asking him questions, learning about him, making the person in front of you turn into something with more dimensions than two was pointless when in a couple days, you'd leave this train and never see him again. Better to go back to hating him.

It wasn't as satisfying as before. Now that you've acquired some knowledge of who he was beyond an obnoxious seat hog and arrogance asshole, the reasons to hate him were beginning to be outweighed by all the other reasons to not hate him.

So far, you learned he was a musician. A passionate up and comer who gives strangers his jacket when they look cold, and shares a drink of milk and honey and cinnamon because it reminds him of his childhood. Someone who has made biting his pencil into a habit when he was working through a thought, who would often stare out windows and saw all the stars you couldn’t; someone who was quick to try to make friends with even the most emotionally withdrawn people.

Shortly after taking more time than planned on recounting all the things you learned about Jungkook, you felt indebted to him since he only knew two things about you.

You were stubborn and you had a sick mom. Or at least, you believed these were the only parts of yourself he picked up on. The rest were things he’d observed with an attentive eye of which you had not noticed had been studying your mannerisms in the same way you studied his.

When you left the cart abruptly after he mentioned the thunderstorm that was somehow delayed for tonight, he was correct to assume it was because you were afraid of the storm. Now, whether it was the thunder or lightning that rattled you so viciously you had to walk off your fear was yet to be discovered. Jungkook was confident he’d figure it out.

Or, how he watched you when you were sleeping in a way he wouldn’t describe as creepy since it was endearing to see you sleep. In fact, he was doing his best to ignore you, but your muffled groans had revealed to him you were the type to have the occasional nightmare. Again, the dream itself was something he was more than interested in discovering.

And your adorably executed performance of passive aggression didn’t evade him in the way you presumed it did. He heard the sigh and understood exactly what you were attempting to accomplish with that, but decided to act like your effort to shut him up wasn’t completely transparent. Mostly because he wanted you to ask him what he was doing.

Jungkook wasn’t ready to admit it yet, but he enjoyed the way you spoke, even if it was drenched in a thick layer of annoyance. For now, he decidedly stuck with finding innocuous ways to fall back into a conversation with you, to slowly but surely learn all that he could in this three-day train ride.

At half-past three, lunch had been served, consumed, and digested. Jungkook’s plate, however, was just short of being completely gone. Everything had been notably ravaged by him except for the pile of walnuts he picked out of his salad at the beginning of the meal.

“Not a fan of walnuts?” You convinced yourself this question came from a place that was starting to feel queasy from the silence that was more intoxicating than the small glass of complimentary wine you downed a little too quickly.

“Allergic. Nothing too serious, though. My throat gets itchy and sometimes I get a rash on my skin.” You made a mental note that Jungkook was allergic to walnuts, which you stored in the part of your brain that harbored knowledge that was completely useless to you yet you still reserved space for it to be memorized.

“That sucks.”

“Yeah, but it did come in handy when I was in class and didn’t want to be. I’d tell the teacher the cafeteria food had walnuts in it and I needed to go home and get my EpiPen before I died.” The list of things you knew about Jungkook continued to lengthen, and you couldn’t specify when it happened, but you began to enjoy every detail that made the list grow.

You wouldn’t have guessed it would take a single day for you to wish it would never stop growing. But then again, you didn’t realize this at the time.

“And that worked? Sounds like you had your luck laid out for you from the beginning.” Jungkook smiled at this, the same bunny-toothed smile from yesterday, but it felt much different to you now, as if you were one smile away from forgetting your once insistent hatred of Jungkook.

“Yeah, I guess so. What about you? What are your allergies?”

“Other than overly friendly weirdos on trains? Nothing.” It was the strangest reaction to feel proud, of all things, when you were rewarded by his laugh. It was softer than the wind rushing against the side of the train, however his laugh outperformed every other sound in the surrounding area until it was all your ears could focus on.

“Then it seems you’re the lucky one. No allergies. Free to eat whatever you want.” His eyes parceled between the sheet music in his hands and you. Though, it was difficult to pull them back down to his work since this was the first time he had your undivided attention that was not born from annoyance or repulsion to whatever he was doing.

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’m free to eat whatever. I have standards.”

“Really?” It was his not-so-discreet way of trying to capture all the pieces of you that he could, but from your slow intake of air, it seems as though you weren’t entirely finished with talking to him either.

“Cilantro. It’s absolutely disgusting. And mushrooms. I can’t stand mushrooms.”

“I love mushrooms.” Of course, you do, you thought. He didn’t have to say it, but he most likely loved cilantro as well. And you were most definitely right.

“I suppose you love everything I hate?” Eye contact with Jungkook was more than you could handle ever since his mannerisms stopped annoying you and started intimidating you, so you found refuge in the scenery beyond the window. It never failed you during the day, but at night you would have to scavenge for something to stare at when Jungkook’s eyes were close to stealing your breath away.

“I suppose you hate everything I love.”

It took a careful eye to catch the subtle hints of emotion that even you were too distracted to notice. Jungkook’s eye was trained pretty well in observation of the hidden traces of even the most thoroughly subdued emotions. His eyes were so well versed in gathering the scarce evidence of emotions that it prompted him to ask his next question:

“What are you looking for?”

Now, your eyes were still averted by his, so you held on to the slowly fading daylight while you still could. But, sadly, the window was a distraction of sight, not sound, so you heard his question loud and clear and felt obligated to give him an answer. Even if your answer was pathetic.

“Just looking at the grass. It’s pretty.”

“I didn’t ask what you were looking at, I asked what you were looking for.”

Determining what emotion you let slip through the quiver in your lip was a task Jungkook wasn’t well equipped for just yet. In all fairness, he had only known you for a short while and he still felt disappointed in himself for not being able to know what he made you feel with that question.

“I don’t know.” You couldn’t help the stunned tone of your voice, but that was all that could fuel your words at the moment. “I guess… A distraction. It’s so beautiful out there.”

“Everything looks beautiful when you only have a small amount of time to admire it.” Whatever distraction you were looking for had certainly met your eyes and did its job since you had absolutely no clue he was staring right at you when he said that. That he was savoring the small amount of time he had to admire you.

Jungkook was right, which was a habit of his that he took unrestrained pride in; life was beautiful when you moved through it with such little time to spare. Though slamming your hand in a doorway was something you would sooner do than admitting he was right.

The fabric of time moved in a peculiar fashion when inside a train. You move so fast and yet, not at all, and it is as if there is a tear where the train moves through, and evades the grips of each minute that transports the future into the present and the present into the past. It felt this way the moment you stepped onto the train, so when you checked the time, it didn’t surprise you that it was already an hour before midnight.

The daytime had slowly melted away, carefully, the way ice shrunk inside a glass of water until it combined with its surroundings, and the plains of grass could only exist in your memory right now. The blackness of night consumed everything beyond your window once again, though there was the occasional streetlamp that provided a glimpse of everything you couldn’t see as of now.

What you couldn’t see was nowhere near as frightening as what you were about to hear.

The first flash of lightning felt like a warning. It took a few seconds for the wretched boom of thunder to follow, which was the interval of time you foolishly hoped it would, just this once, fail to accompany that streak of light. That perhaps this train moved quick enough to outrun the storm.

“___? Are you okay?”

You didn’t notice your hands had immediately cupped your ears until Jungkook’s voice was filtered through as a jumble of indiscernible noises.

“Sorry, I just…” Steadying your breath was a toll that required an upfront payment of all your attention, so your previously muted voice and steady tone had gone out of the metaphorical window, along with the rest of your response.

“So it’s the thunder.” Jungkook said softly to himself. It didn’t matter since your hands were being utilized as makeshift earplugs. They seemed to deflect every sound except for the thunder that punctured through your barrier effortlessly.

Before, Jungkook had this preconception of you. From the minute he stepped into Cart 102, he could tell you were the type to carry yourself steadily, the type that supplied their own assurance and isolated their emotions in the same way you isolated yourself. But here you were, hands clamped against your ears, eyes pressed shut and body shaking; this was a surplus of emotions you let seep through your walls. It was expressive enough for any dimwitted onlooker to know exactly what you were feeling: pure fear.

And Jungkook had always been adept to telltale signs of what was buried beneath the obvious emotions. He could tell you wanted to be distracted. You needed help.

It was easier to stifle one sense if you stifled them all at once. If you didn’t want to see, you had to plug your ears and hold your breath. And in this case, to block out the sound, you had to shut your eyes and numb the rest of your body in the slim chance that the thunder wouldn’t penetrate through your poorly constructed firewall.

Suddenly, you felt the space beside you sink lower which meant Jungkook had taken the liberty of invading your space at the worst possible time. It was difficult to focus on blocking out the sound when you could feel the side of his shoulder bump lightly against yours.

“___.” You shifted towards him slowly, waiting for his explanation of why he was on your side of the cart. “Can I touch you?”

You were past your wit's end, spending the last bits of your sanity trying to calm yourself from the second crash of thunder that made your body lift from the seat for a solid two seconds. All you could do was nod, and hope he wasn’t a serial killer that was about to strangle you to death in a moment of vulnerability.

He was working in your favor, just like when he wrapped you up in his coat and set that cup of milk in front of you, he moved in determination to comfort you. And if it weren’t for the dire circumstances, your pride would have refused the security of his arms that were carefully enveloping your body and eliminating the frigid space around you. You hadn’t realized how cold this train was until you were invited into Jungkook’s warmth. He had somehow silenced the storm, and all you had to do was let him.

The third blast of thunder pushed you deeper in his embrace, and you wrapped your arms around him tightly like the lifejacket he was that kept you from slipping below the surface of the angry ocean currents.

“If you couldn’t tell I-” Boom, “I hate thunder.” Your voice came out strained through the fear-induced filter lodged in your throat.

“No, actually, I couldn’t tell at all.” Nine out of ten of your thoughts were concentrated on the thunder, and that one exception was applied towards how annoyingly sarcastic Jungkook managed to be through thick and thin. It was impressive enough that he could subtract the fear even by a small fraction for you to laugh.

“You’re so-” Boom, “You’re insufferable.”

His laugh was noticed through the gentle bounce of his chest that rocked your head more than the actual sound of it. Soon, a hand came to run through your hair and with each stroke, he somehow removed your terror layer by layer until you were afforded with indifference to the storm simply because you were lulled into a half-sleep and were now too exhausted to care about the thunder.

“You’re okay. Everything is okay. You’re doing great. Breathe deep.” His chest smelled the same as his coat. A fire burning so brightly, sending the aromas of everything it consumed into the air.

Now your attention belonged to the warmth of his arms, and how he moved his hand through your hair with something deeper than kindness. It was selflessness because he too was scared and tired and in need of rest. Despite this, he used the last of his energy to ward off the threat of a second panic attack.

“Thank you.” You whispered into his chest, and it seemed as though it permeated through his flesh and ribs and absorbed straight into his heart from the way he held you even tighter.

The storm had settled, and the horrors of loud thunder were abandoned for quite some time now, but it felt too comfortable, too perfect for you to be anywhere else but here in his arms. So, what went unsaid was more than enough for him to retract any intention to return to his seat and instead hold you against his chest, where his heart would retain strength from being close to you.

You couldn’t tell if you had already slipped into a dream when you heard him singing softly, or if the melody of Dream a Little Dream of Me was actually being crafted by his voice so beautifully and fell into perfect synchronization with the rhythmic beat of his heart. Either way, you were thankful to bear witness to a sound that reduced the idea of thunder down to something that could never hurt you again, and instead made seeing all the stars the heavens could offer possible even through the darkest nights. You felt a well of tears moisten your cheeks.

In his arms, with his voice, you could see the stars.

Back in the dimmed hallway of the train, you could make out the outline of a figure standing in the distance, waiting for you. Waiting, but about to run out of time. You saw her slowly disappear the way wind would rustle the dying leaves off a tree in autumn. Slowly her body was wilting, disappearing, and the wind only picked up speed.

All you could think to do was run to her, your mother, the shell of a woman you had known and loved your whole life. Her frail body being stripped of flesh as easily as wind undresses a tree of its leaves until there is nothing but branch and bone.

The walls began to close again, and you knew you had to act faster. You had to push past the pressure of closing walls even if they were squeezing so tightly movement became impossible. All at once, the impossible became your burden to redesign into something possible, which was the only thing crushing your spirit more than these damn walls.

You were so close; you held your hand out and—

Day Two

Winter mornings always start the same. Your eyes began rediscovering sight before the rest of your senses flooded into function, then your stomach would get angry for digesting nothing but its own acid until you filled it. And just like yesterday, your pillow cushioned beneath your head on the seat and your body shielded from the rogue winter winds that snuck inside of your cart by the same bonfire scented coat.

“Rise and shine.” Jungkook said from behind the sheet music he was examining. He must have been stealing glances of you every five minutes or so to catch the moment you’d finally wake up.

“Time?” Part of you didn’t want to get up. Part of you, the more persuasive part, wanted to remain tucked under Jungkook’s coat and slip back into a light sleep. If it weren’t for the hot drink waiting for you on the table then you would have done just that.

“Nine. A little later than yesterday.” You sat up eventually, wrapping the coat around you, and for a moment life was comfortable on the train. So much so that you didn’t mind how your hair was in complete disarray.

Jungkook enjoyed seeing you this way. When you had first woken up and didn’t wear the usual veil of detachment from the rest of the world. Your guard had surrendered to your sleep ridden body. He guessed very few people saw you like this, natural and raw and untouched by the pressure to be presentable, and counted himself lucky, just like you would say, to be one of those few.

“Thanks, again.” You said softly into the warm cup between sips. “How much?”

“No. It's okay.”

“But-”

“Seriously! Don’t mention it.” He was firm, but that didn’t stop the gentle smile that crept its way back onto his face. You didn’t know what to say other than the thanks you had already said, so you just kept drinking. It was still just as delicious, but today familiarity was peppered into the milk among the honey and cinnamon which gave it that much more reason to love it.

“You get up this early every day?” You asked, because you were at a loss for words but felt less comfortable without hearing his voice to accompany the brisk, quiet morning.

“Usually I do. I like the morning. It feels like I have the world to myself before everyone else wakes up.” Charming. It was the last thing that came to mind when you would picture Jungkook. Now, however, it seemed to be the only characteristic that came to mind when you thought of him.

Sitting in front of you, half mindedly scribbling notes onto the staff and half his attention expended on sharing the small ways he saw the world, he was just charming. As easily as he once drove a blunt edge of annoyance into your chest, he erased every bit of evidence that he could ever be anything but charming.

“Sorry to steal the morning from you. I gotta wake up sometime.” You felt entirely unpracticed in the realm of light, friendly conversations, and that was evident from the way you wanted to gag at your own response to his. What you thought was a tasteless, almost pathetic attempt at banter was, to Jungkook, another reason to enjoy the morning.

“I’m glad it’s you that I have to share it with.” Jungkook certainly sat higher on the hierarchical scale of wit compared to you, but even that didn’t agitate you in the way it would have before. What was more shocking than that was the fact that you felt the muscles in your cheeks changing your flat lipped expression into a smile.

“Flattery gets you nowhere, Jungkook.” You responded that way only to save face. It was a habit of yours you didn’t realize you were doing until the words had already been deployed by your tongue.

“It seems to have gotten me a smile from you. Those are hard to come by.” You jerked your head quickly over to him, the same grin stained with smugness there to meet your surprised ‘o’ shaped mouth.

He was right again. Your smiles have always been punctuated lately, but you were too busy paddling through every distraction available to even notice.

“Very funny.” Your voice was low enough for Jungkook to nearly miss it. Once the soft tone of your voice delivered to his ears, he looked away from his sheet music to mine through your face like a cavern, searching for the hidden bits of the treasure-like emotions strewn in along the subtle details.

“What’s wrong?” It was a leap of faith, his question, a leap that sent him plummeting blindly into the depths of everything he craved to know about you.

“That thing you said the other day.” Your expression was unreadable to the whole world. But inside the train, the whole world rested just on the other side of the window. There was no reason to come off as impassive, cold, or unconcerned, to care so much about trying not to care. “About going home.”

“Mhm?” You waited to see if he had anything to say, anything to stall what was about to escape from your lips. You knew it wouldn’t take long for your thoughts to go rogue, especially when he made you smile like that.

“I’m angry.” He gave you a look that said ‘no shit’ without having to actually say it. It made you nervous, but still willing to go on. “You're right. I didn’t visit home ever until now. I thought I grew out of it. I thought I became someone too big to fit in a town so small and stuck in its way. But I was never too big, I don’t think I ever actually grew. Because when I got the call, after stupidly ignoring it a hundred times before, I felt like the same child. So scared of the idea of a world without their mother. So, yeah, I’m angry. I’m angry I could be arrogant and stupid enough to think I could live the rest of my life never looking back.”

Jungkook just watched you, with those eyes that held the world. His eyes were holding so much right now when they were looking at you. So much weight from a source he couldn’t define with his own intuition. So much weight, he couldn’t understand how you had been shouldering it on your own this whole time, if he couldn’t stand a few minutes holding it now.

“Going back home.” You scoffed. “It's not about looking back. It was never about that. I think returning to something familiar is almost just as scary as fleeing somewhere new. All your past mistakes and demons that you have to face…”

“Demons. Is that any way to talk about your mother?” It was his way, unique to Jungkook alone, to litter in a bit of lighthearted teasing even when he was supposed to be serious. As if he couldn’t stand to let the air in Cart 102 become too damp with sadness, as if his heart wouldn’t have been able to handle it.

“I made a mistake. I spent too much time away, and now the last way I’ll see her is weak and sick. That’s my demon. My mom was just unfortunate enough to be the arbiter of it.”

Jungkook wanted to tell you that if he could, he would take all your pain away and send it back into the universe to find someone else to harbor it. Someone who deserved to feel a loss so heavy, because he knew just by looking at you that you deserved none of it. But he held his overly romantic tongue for now in regards to easing you into him smoothly. Since he had come such a long way with you, making gentle strides to win your affection, it would be greedy of him to tarnish that by saying something as outrageous as that, even if that was truly how he felt.

“Come with me. I have an idea.” It would have been easy to refuse him, to swat his hand away and never speak to him again for the rest of the train ride. But what prevails after the wear and tear of expecting the worst and knowing the painful and permanent scars it will leave you is the trust of someone who turned scowls into smiles, who held his hand out to you and waited for you to take it kindly.

Those tales they tell about feeling sparks when you make contact with your soulmate were decidedly wrong. Wrong to you, because when you touched Jungkook’s hand, you felt those sparks nestling under your skin and learning its way through the rest of your body. Wrong, because Jungkook was no soulmate of yours, just an unlikely stranger you met on a train once.

And yet, you couldn’t help but wonder, you couldn’t help but hope he too felt these sparks that supposedly meant nothing.

Jungkook pulled you into the hallway, which was brighter than the way it looked in your dreams. At the end of the walkway, there was no ghost resembling your mother, and the walls weren’t closing in, and instead of pushing through alone, you had Jungkook holding your hand tightly, and graciously guiding you down.

“This way.” He whispered, and you mimicked the stealth in his voice through the way you muffled the sound of your feet hitting the train floor, which felt less like water and more like sand with him; soft yet solid sand.

You arrived at an unattended area of the train. The only hint of what Jungkook was up to was that grin. That grin was too playful to be a grimace, and too mischievous to be a smile. That grin that you hadn’t noticed you were looking forward to seeing, the same one you could sense you would miss when the train arrived at its destination. That when he grinned, you finally found the courage to return it. Needing no conditions or second guesses, you were just you, somehow smiling on the train that was taking you to your sick mother. And it was all because of him and his stupid, lovely grin.

“What are you doing? Are we supposed to even be here?”

“Shh, we’ll get caught.” He began to wriggle with the door handle until it opened.

“So we’re not supposed to be here! Jungkook, let’s go before we get kicked off!” To silence you, he simply held his hand up. You pouted your lip but did as he commanded.

Inside the door, there was a collection of all the food meant for purchasing. Your assumption was confirmed that Jungkook had no intention of paying for the bags of pretzels and packets of cookies he was stuffing into his pockets. Hands full with quite the assortment of foods, he looked to you and raised his eyebrows.

“What?”

“Come on, put these in your pockets! Hurry.” He held the food out towards you. There was no convincing him to put all the stolen goods back, and there was no convincing yourself to not go along with his sinfully sweet plan.

The fast-paced walk back to Cart 102 was the most exhilarating thirty-five seconds of your life. Jungkook looked all too calm, like spontaneity fell into his hands naturally or like it was a birthright, belonging to his life from the beginning. Life with Jungkook, even if the short span of time he’d claimed part of yours was fleeting, was the most excited and fearless you had ever felt.

Jungkook and you emptied the haul of food onto the table. For a second, they went untouched only for the two of you to admire your successfully pirated goods. Then, for the first time on the train you met eyes with Jungkook and laughed.

It was the sort of laugh that exercised muscles in your abdomen you weren’t aware that you had in the first place. The kind that began at the top of a hill, and with one push it was tumbling faster and faster, growing louder and wilder.

Jungkook was laughing too, a sound which could qualify as the only competitor to surpass the beauty of his singing. And whatever music he was scribing onto the paper would have to be beyond masterful to sound anything close to as immaculate as his laugh.

“I can’t believe we just committed grand larceny.” The words came out of your throat between fits of laughter, eyes now with an abundance of happy tears.

“Woah there, “‘grand”’ is a stretch. I like to think of it as unlawful borrowing.” The rest of the afternoon was spent with celebratory feasting of your unlawfully borrowed goods. Your favorite was the packs of chocolate mints, and Jungkook had cleverly avoided eating them when he noticed how much you liked them.

When dawn arrived, Cart 102 settled into a comfortable silence, now consisting of you reading your book tempered by a glance out of the window every few pages and Jungkook tapping his pencil against the wooden desk while marking up every blank space on his page. To anyone else, including the likes of you, the page was nothing but a jumble of incoherent scribbles. To Jungkook, it was his next masterpiece; the best idea he made tangible on paper and hopefully soon, audible when someone agreed to commission it.

“Done!”

His remark startled you, being that there had been no warrant for him to exclaim his progress with the music he was working on. You chuckled softly, closing your book and looking back to Jungkook.

“Done with what?”

“This song. I know this one will sell. I just know it! It’s perfect.” Jungkook’s passion was bursting past the seams of his body. “I just wish… I wish I had more time.”

“What does that mean?” Again, all he offered was the same grin, and that was all you needed in order to know he wouldn’t be dropping any more hints on the account of your curiosity.

“It means this train ride is ending tomorrow, and I’ll have too much on my plate to work on anything else. So this right here,” He held up the paper with the same tact one would for a pile of pure gold, “Is my last chance to get my work out there for a while.”

For reasons born from an unidentifiable place, you felt like crying. Last chance. It sounded serious. Something you weren’t ready to know and something he wasn't ready to tell. So, instead of pestering the answer out of him, you let him have his secrets. You let him have all the secrets he had somehow gotten out of you.

And somehow, you were okay with it. Just this once.

Jungkook said he was taking a quick nap. Quick must mean something entirely different where he was from since it lasted about three hours and counting. For someone who had nothing to do but sit on a train all day, he sure was tired. It would have concerned you had it not been for witnessing how much energy he exerted into writing his music, as if each tap of his pencil required the same amount of energy as running an entire mile.

You were looking out of the window, which looked like it had been coated with tar. The departing sun left no remnants of its light and the moon must have been situated on the opposite side of the train, so it was up to the stars to illuminate your view of the world. But, outside the train was dark. Dark, and almost pitch black.

The first few specks were thought to be a hallucination that bloomed from your own wishful thinking. But soon, there were more and more twinkling lights dusting the sky and that outshined any doubt you had before. The stars were so bright and glimmering clearer than you had ever seen. Only something so beautiful, something that ingrained itself into the grooves of your brain to keep forever, could elicit the gasp that came louder than expected.

“Woah.” It jolted Jungkook awake and you would have felt bad if he weren’t already supplied with three and a half hours of extra sleep.

“What?” His voice was hoarse from being unused for such a long interval.

“The stars! I can see them! They’re so bright, Jungkook. So bright.” The tears began to form in part from the lack of blinking and in part from how happy you were to see the stars. The same stars your mother was probably looking at and the same ceiling of glitter that loomed protectively over you and Jungkook. They were more than just constellations tonight; they were a celestial map navigating you back home and an astronomical assurance that everything would be okay. Even if the worst happened, everything would be okay.

“They are. They’ve been bright for a while. It took you long enough to notice.” Your smile was not yours to control anymore. It was a small price to pay considering you had a world full of stars to last you a lifetime.

“I guess I haven’t been trying as hard to see them as I thought I was.”

And you turned to him, which was the only thing besides the starlit arena above you and Jungkook and the train you’d rather be looking at right now.

“I can’t wait to go home. I miss it so much.” It was the first time you said it out loud, as well as the first time you were able to admit that to yourself.

“I’m glad you feel that way. You should feel that way.”

“Thank you.”

There were a plethora of reasons that prompted that thank you. Far too many reasons that were decidedly unfit for just a single thank you. So, you concluded that the thank you was for Jungkook; for becoming a part of your life. For every decision he made on this train that rearranged your feelings towards him into something pleasant. Something that felt warm and safe.

Tonight, the last thing you saw before slipping away into sleep was all the stars that weren't at your disposal before. Every silvery diamond brandished along the expanding sky was so mesmerizing, you wished you could imprint them into the backs of your eyelids when they eventually lulled you into a calm slumber. That and the memory of Jungkook’s rendition of Dream a Little Dream of Me set on repeat in your head.

This time, you weren't trapped in the confines of a dark train hallway. You were standing in the middle of a grassy field, laden with a diverse collection of wildflowers. The mellow green hues seemed to lift from the blades of grass, stretching into the air around you.

And your mother was there. She wasn’t being blown away by the wind. Just like the sturdy trunk of a tree, she stood with dignity and conviction at the top of the highest hill that provided a view of your hometown; it was the most beautiful you had ever seen her.

“Mom!” The way you were running felt more like gliding, or flying even, because you moved through the wind without a bit of resistance. Your body was frictionless and unstoppable. And when you finally fell into your mother’s arms, it was the most freeing feeling in the world.

“I’ve missed you so much. I thought you were going to leave me.” The blue sky that sealed you and your mom into the earth made a stunning partner for the fields of green underneath you.

“I’m always with you, darling.”

It was difficult to decide whether the sound of her voice or the sentiment behind it made you cry, so you decided not to decide at all, and instead, you simply let yourself cry. Everything was so beautiful, but still not complete.

“Mom, I feel like something’s missing.”

“There is.” She responded, but it wasn’t a question. Your mom was not your mom, just a figment herself cultivated by your own mind. She was one with you, and she knew exactly what was missing.

“Where do I find it?” Her hands cupped your cheeks, just like she would when you were young and crying over a scraped knee.

“You know, love. You know.”

The wind pulled a gentle melody from the spaces between the leaves. A melody you were quite familiar with and grew to love. It slowed, then everything was silent.

Day Three

Waking up came to you in a hurry, as if you shouldn’t spend another second living life through dreams because today was the last day on the train. The last day you’d spend with Jungkook, and possibly the last time you would ever see him.

It was uncharacteristic of you to feel this way. Disappointed at both yourself and your situation. You knew from the beginning that this was a temporary arrangement, and Jungkook was not a permanent fixture in your life. In fact, you used to be thankful for those circumstances because you hated Jungkook.

But, of course, you went ahead and let him in. You let him buy you tasty drinks, hold you during thunderstorms, and offer you a coat, a smile, a laugh when everything felt cold. You let him ripple currents of fun into your life, but that would be giving yourself too much credit, you suppose.

Because it was never a matter of allowing him to do any of this. He did all of those things, and more, all by himself.

What was even more uncharacteristic of you was greeting the early morning before Jungkook. He was sound asleep, with skin being lightly freckled by the glints of sunlight shimmering through the gaps in the clouds. The morning sun was always docile, kindly shedding light in a way that wouldn’t pull sweat from your skin like it did in the afternoon.

You liked the sight of him sleeping, mostly because it was one of the few moments of the day when he was completely silent, and those were rare.

“Better take this opportunity.” You whispered to yourself before getting up, covering Jungkook with the coat, and heading to the concession stand you had raided with Jungkook yesterday.

Wondering if the workers noticed the missing inventory, you idled by the counter before ordering but they all looked too tired to care to serve you let alone realize a quarter of the chocolate mint packs were taken.

“Hi, two warm milks with honey and cinnamon please.” The attendant seemed to appreciate how closely your voice was to a whisper. He sluggishly poured two steaming cups of milk and sleeved them before exchanging them for the money already placed onto the counter.

“Honey and cinnamon are over at the self-serving station.” You followed to where his finger was aimed towards and nodded politely with the two cups in each hand.

You didn’t know why, but imagining Jungkook making this drink himself, instead of ordering it premade, ranked this act as something more motivated than customary kindness. Because getting these drinks wasn’t simply walking to a stand, purchasing, and walking back to Cart 102. There was now an erroneous step you hadn’t accounted for. The act of making milk with honey and cinnamon.

As you scooped a spoonful of honey to mix into the creamy liquid, one of your mother’s many proverbs rang in your ears, as if she was standing right beside you saying it.

“When you make food for someone, it’s just another way to express that you love them!”

It froze you for a second. Recalling what she would say when you would throw together a meal for the pair of you when she was too tired to. She worked so hard as a single mother, so every shortcoming felt like a colossal failure, no matter how little it mattered to you. And she would always say that to you because ‘thank you’ just didn’t cut it.

This was the first thing you made for someone other than your mother and yourself. But, there’s no way it was because you loved him.

Just this once, you thought. Just this once I’ll make food for someone that I don’t love.

You were relieved to greet a still sleeping Jungkook when you returned to your cart. The cart you studied closer, because you were about to leave it and wanted to retain all the details that you could before it became a memory you would only visit when you were feeling reminiscent.

The beige walls, the small table where you would read and Jungkook would compose, the stiff leather seats that you had surprisingly gotten used to, and the large window that gave you a glimpse of the blurry world waiting for you.

Jungkook’s groan snapped you out of your trance. Before he regained full cognizance, you placed the cup in front of him so you’d be able to boast that you had woken up before him and had the morning all to yourself for a moment. That now you were the one sharing the world with him.

“What’s this?” He said groggily.

“You know.” You tried your best to mirror his smugness, the way he would sip his drink after sending a witty one-liner through the air like it was no big deal to him.

Before you became lost in the person you changed into with Jungkook, a person that felt more like a fun costume to wear when you didn’t feel like being yourself anymore, the more neurotic and controlling part of you fell back through when you remembered that the measurements of the ingredients might have been off.

Maybe you had gotten the drink entirely wrong, so your deed would shrivel down to a failed act of kindness. Nothing at all your mother would consider a gesture of love. And that was more frightening than any blast of thunder.

“It's delicious.” Jungkook said out of nowhere, almost as though he knew he was interrupting your thoughts. Breaking them down into a powder thinner than flour, so he could blow all your worries away with one puff of air. He wasn’t lying either, it was delicious.

You spent a gracious amount of time and energy avoiding the book you were meant to finish during this train ride. Instead, your efforts were fully consumed by the last person you thought would ever be the center of your attention. At least, you thought if he were going to be the focus of it, then it would have been because you were mentally berating him for reasons that didn’t bother you much at all anymore; in fact, they started becoming admirable.

“If you could run faster than a train, where would you go?” He asked.

“Paris. Or Italy. I'd just have to figure out how to run on water.” You earned a good laugh from Jungkook with that comment. And finally, you felt like you were beginning to find your niche in conversations, and it relied heavily on sarcasm.

“I’d love to see the day when ___ walks on water.”

“What about you? Where would you go?”

“I would make my legs take me straight to Carnegie Hall and force the organization to play one of my pieces.” Each word was formed by his tongue as if he had that response rehearsed a hundred times over. Jungkook knew exactly what he wanted, and given the chance, he would use any and every asset to get him there.

That alone was why you fell into something deeper than attraction. Why you began to take notice of things about him that weren’t of importance before. And why your intentions to observe how the world designed this man to be so stunningly unique was less cryptic than you’d hoped.

Maybe if you noticed how his white button-up was undone down to his sternum and tucked into the waistband of his slacks tastefully, then your heart would have taken a quicker pace long before now. If you noticed how his jet black hair was gentle and fluffy when it draped over his eyes, then you would have been frustrated with yourself sooner for not seizing the chance to introduce your fingers to its texture. And if you noticed how the ridges along his palm looked perfect to be held in, then you would have savored every second he held you the night of the storm. There was an astonishing number of details about Jungkook, about as many as the stars in the sky, that would have made you mountains more intimidated to even speak with him.

One of the attendants left all your observations of Jungkook scattered when she peaked her head through to give the two of you an update on your arrival.

“Looks like we’ll be getting in earlier than expected!” In theory, that was a blessing. You’d get to finally deboard the train and be with your mother. Though, you’d be lying if some piece of you wanted this train to continue west until there was no more land to travel on; and if you could, you would redistribute each part of this train to assemble a boat, so you could sail Jungkook across the seven seas. “Our arrival will be in twenty minutes! I hope you both enjoyed your trip.”

And if Jungkook felt the same way, he didn’t show it through his polite smile and nod at the attendant.

“We’ll be getting off soon.” He said to you, though you could tell it was his way of interrogating your thoughts on the matter.

“Time moved by so oddly on the train. I didn’t even notice it was already day three.” You paused and took one last glance out of the window. “Funny.”

"It's funny,” He began, and you settled into what you knew was about to be another piece of Jungkook's mind served in the form of his delicate words, “when you're inside a train you don't feel like you're moving. Even though you are, of course. You're moving faster than you would outside of a train. But we feel like we are still because we are moving with the train. When you're in a train, you are moving with time too, so it feels rushed and stagnant all at once. When you're not inside, time moves past you. It feels better to move with time, don’t you think? It feels like you could outrun it if you wanted to, or it feels like you will never run out of time at all. That you and time are equals. But soon, we'll have to get back onto the platform, and time will move past us again, and it’ll feel like we’re running out already."

“You’re right.” You finally admitted. “We’re running out of time.”

We’re running out of time— together, you wanted to say. However, courage and boldness was a currency you weren’t rich in. Unspoken desires and lost hopes were all you had left to tender.

“Yeah, I guess so. Hey, I-” He hesitated as well, because when you looked at him with such wishful eyes, it made what he had to say entirely too real and all too scary. “I really liked being your travel buddy.”

You could tell he was holding back too. That everything you wanted to say to him and everything he wanted to say to you wasn’t meant to be translated into words, that exchanging sentimental smiles was all you and he could afford. Instead, it was better to exist through the language of emotions, floating around the train, moving with time, and eventually, when you and Jungkook returned to the world, those emotions would remain with the train and travel beyond your destination.

That’s why you let them go. Sometimes, a train is only meant to be a train.

“Me too. Though, I have to admit I hated you at first.”

“I know.” He grinned as you etched the most accurate memory of it in your brain as you could.

His stance came unprecedented. The small radio tucked in his bag now sitting on the table, serenading an unfamiliar melody and overtaking the silent air inside Cart 102. Then, came his hand, extended to you just like he had yesterday. Only this time, you didn’t need to wonder what he wanted from you because you would give whatever he asked.

You took his hand, or rather you gave him yours, and followed his gentle tug until it led you to his body, pressing away all the space once separating the two of you. Jungkook’s hand followed the curve of your waist until it landed at the small of your back while you instinctively rested yours on his shoulder.

You and Jungkook swayed to the music until all those words about moving with time became real. The way he held you close had you immune to the passage of time. The soft brush of his breath against your cheek felt welcoming, and you would try your very best to remember the way existing felt when your skin was touching his. It was odd, dancing on a train with someone you didn’t know well enough to call a friend but weren’t estranged enough to call an acquaintance. Again, it felt like you were in between two walls, stuck, trying to out-think your way through a collapsing maze of judgement.

Though, no matter how odd it was, it stopped neither you nor Jungkook from holding onto each other for the last few moments available.

The train must have hit a rock, one you would like to thank because it knocked the two of you over until you had fallen into his lap, laughing so hard your bodies shook. You would have been uncomfortable in this compromising position if not for the sense of belonging fostered in the empty space in your chest while being in his arms.

Jungkook didn’t notice you were detangling your limbs from his until you were already gone, seated across from him in the same spot.

Once, he learned in science class of this phenomenon called ‘afterimage’, which is when your eyes get so accustomed to staring at one particular thing that when you look away, the thing stained your vision in the form of a silhouette, like an echo of something your eyes grew so comfortable seeing that it stayed with you, even when you looked away.

And he knew, even when the view of you sitting across from him in this train wasn’t there anymore, he would carry that afterimage of you, always echoing in his vision like a beautiful melody he couldn’t get out of his head. Not that he wanted to let go anyway

It was sour, the cruelty of letting go. When the train began to brake, it felt like a lifetime of agony. A bitter, unforgiving slap in the face courtesy of the confines of reality, stealing you away from the shelter of a train; a place that made it so easy to be swept up in something as dazzling and impossible as magic. You were onto important things, you knew this, but it was nice to live, even if it were just for a bit, inside something as magical as Cart 102, where you could count on a generous supply of warm coats, milk with honey and cinnamon, and Jungkook.

“Well, our stop is here. Hey, how about we share a cab? Why not save some money, right?” You could only nod, because speaking would have led to tears, which would have led to a failed explanation of why you were crying.

Jungkook hailed the yellow vehicle over, the opening of his shirt widened just an inch too much to let your mind wander.

“You’re going to the hospital, right?” He asked.

“Yeah, the only one in town.” You said, knowing the driver wouldn’t need any more specifics than that. This town was so small there were a lot of singular facilities that made the layout equally difficult to be crammed into and easy to memorize. One library, one park, one church, and one hospital.

As Jungkook went to give the driver your destinations, you packed up the luggage into the trunk. Not too long after, you were side by side in the back of a cab. All you could bring yourself to do was gaze out of the window and watch all the familiar scenes of your hometown pass by, each landmark dousing you with a strong presence of nostalgia.

No matter how sad parting ways with Jungkook was, it was good to be home.

The cab finally arrived at the hospital, and you got out not expecting the other person in the car to get out with you. Perhaps he was being polite and saying goodbye. You knew you would have done the same if his stop preceded yours.

The two of you stood in front of the entrance, gawking up at the tall building that was in desperate need of reconstruction. You turned your gaze over to Jungkook.

“Where to now, Mr. Jeon?” You asked, since this town was small enough, and you were fluent in every secret hiding spot it had to offer, you might be able to visit him if that wouldn’t come off as too invasive.

“I'm here.” He responded just as ambiguously and ever so matter-of-factly as always. This time, you demanded to know more.

“What? What do you mean?”

“It took a long time to find a doctor that specializes in my condition.” Jungkook finally turned to you, his eyes crowded by tears. “My heart is weak, ___. I came here to get better, and hopefully, I do. I'm going to be a famous composer one day, and I’ll need a strong heart to get me to that point.”

You felt angry at him again. For not telling you, because it felt less like keeping something from you and more like lying to you. For telling you, and making it sound like it wasn’t a big deal, that it wouldn’t break your heart into pieces weaker than his own.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” It was the harsh snap he expected from you, but he was committed to keeping this a secret until he couldn’t because it was easier that way.

“I didn’t want to admit it. I’m scared, ___. Really scared. If I don't get better…”

“Well, you have to! Carnegie Hall is waiting for you and I didn’t waste my time getting to know you for nothing. So, you just go ahead and get better okay?” Your words were coated in anger but layered on top of something compassionate, sweet even. Sweeter than milk, honey, and cinnamon.

“I’ll try.” He grinned again, knowing it would satisfy you for the time being. Grinning, like a goodbye gift.

“You’re an idiot, Jungkook.”

Before you could lose the last word, you gripped your luggage in one hand, the pillow in the other, and made your way into the hospital, leading to what you knew would be countless nights spent at the side of a hospital bed, eating foods you’d rather not eat, and watching daytime cable while taking care of your mother.

What you didn’t know was that a good portion of those nights would be spent with someone else. Someone who resided in the west wing of the hospital.

Someone who would bring your hand to his heart, and ask you if it felt stronger, and you would always reply with ‘yes’, or ‘yes, you idiot’, even when you were terrified that one day your hand wouldn’t feel the tap of his heart against his chest. Someone who would sing to you in exchange for the times you would read to him. Someone who you would leave notes and small gifts for, his personal favorite being the packet of walnuts accompanied with a folded paper inscribed ‘for when you need to get out of class’. Someone who, when he would be having a particularly difficult night, you’d fall asleep holding hands with, and you’d wake him up with a warm cup of his signature beverage.

Someone you would inevitably begin to fall in love with.

A month later, one of two people you loved dearly would walk out with you through those hospital doors. That person was Jungkook. And the melancholy of losing your mother to the battle between her and her cancer would also follow you, and stay with you almost as long as Jungkook had.

A year later, you would return, hand in hand with Jungkook. Every two months. It was the promise you sealed onto your mother's gravestone that you would always return every two months. Even if the weather dispatched the most terrifying thunderstorms, or your work piled a stack of paperwork high enough to reach the sky, you’d still return home.

You and Jungkook placed a bundle of wildflowers you picked on the way to her grave, sitting at the top of a grassy highland, at the base of the granite stone. She was overlooking the world, with a perfect view of you; it made you feel safe that she was watching over you, and she was watching over Jungkook and his slowly recovering heart.

The weather was perfect. The sun blanketed everything beneath it with a generous warmth but didn't restrict the gentle breeze from tempering it. The leaves and grass moved with the wind, but your mother’s tombstone was strong and unmoving, losing no part of herself to the fluid motions of the spring air.

“I kind of like it here.” He said softly, adorning the view of the hilltop with you. It was the morning, and it didn’t feel like he was sharing the world with you anymore. It felt like it was yours to begin with, and he was just lucky enough to be allowed a part of it.

“Me too.” One hand was with Jungkook, and the other was with your mother.

“I think it would be a nice place to get married and raise our children. You know, after I become a world-renowned composer and all.” This would have shocked you if you had not been wishing to hear him confirm these dreams of yours for a while now. “Did that scare you? I didn’t mean to be too forward.”

“No, I think this would be the perfect place to live. Only if it's with you.” Because you knew, something was missing here without him. He made this hometown of yours finally complete in the wake of your mother’s passing.

When you kissed him, he tasted like honey. And he would have told you that you tasted like cinnamon.

It could never scare you, because you were in love.

You were in a debt of gratitude that was deeper than the ocean. There was so much you wanted to say to him.

The town is milk. It is up to you and me, Jungkook, to provide the ingredients that will liven this town of milk into something sweeter, something survivable, something that will continue to sustain a force as powerful as love. Without the honey and cinnamon, all you have is milk. It seems we are the perfect blend of the two to make this bitter place palatable when it hits our tongues. This town needs us together in the same way milk needs honey and cinnamon.

You didn’t say any of those words out loud. You didn’t need to. All you needed to say was:

“I love you.”

And all he needed to say was:

“I love you too.”

#bangtanarmynet #ficswithluv #btsgoldnet #bts fanfic #bts one shot #bts writing #bts fluff #bts x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook one shot #jungkook fluff #bts enemies to lovers #musician!jungkook #of honey and cinnamon #rubycoast

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thewildomega · 3 years

Text

Broken but not Shattered Ch.6

Sitting outside of the hospital wing he waited for Madam Pomfrey to relay any news to him on his darling's condition. Looking up as something caught his eye he thought it may be someone coming to allow him inside but instead he was met with the back of the headmaster as he entered the medical wing, the heavy wooden door closing behind him. Feeling his heart hammer in his chest he swallowed thickly. Had Madam Pomfrey called for him? Was he there because of Y/n? Had something happened to her? The seconds seemed to pass like hours as he waited there in silence. When the doors suddenly opened again he looked up to see those two blue eyes looking down at him from behind his spectacles and he just knew the man was aware of what he had done.

"Come Severus, you and I must have a talk."

That was all Dumbledore said as he turned and started walking, expecting him to follow. Standing from his seat he cast one last glance to the door his female was behind, feeling that pulling in his chest stronger than ever. Having no choice he looked away and followed the headmaster to the tower on the back left corner of the castle, going the whole way up to the man's office, the whole time his heart feeling like it was going to beat out of his chest.

"Please, have a seat."

Licking his lips he kept his head down as he moved to one of the chairs in front of the man's desk. Looking up he watched as the man moved around the room, making tea it looked like. When he placed a steaming cup in front of him he swallowed hard.

"Mint and Chamomile, to help calm your nerves. I have no doubt that you are on edge, the claiming process has been known to affect both parties in that way. Though omegas tend to get it the worst."

Snapping his eyes up Dumbledore he saw the man giving him a knowing look, his brows raised and his head tilted downward before he turned away once again. Letting out a long breath he felt his stomach drop, so he did know. Reaching forward for the tea he took a sip, hoping his headmaster was right about it helping to calm his nerves. Seeing the man come back to sit at his desk with his own cup if tea, lemon by the smell of it, he took another long drink from the cup. Blinking he felt his anxiety dwindling down but the pulling in his heart made his brows knit together. Meeting the man's eyes he took a deep breath, "How is she? Is she alright?"

Humming he set down his cup, "Our dear Y/n is well yes, she is resting peacefully with the help of Madam Pomfrey's sleeping draught." Seeing how this alerted the young male he gave a soft grin, "Not to worry Severus it was a small dosage, only to help her sleep off the events of today. You did well in your attempts to heal the mark, no doubt easing her pain."

"It would not heal completely." he spoke with a small shake of his head.

"Not a mistake on your part I assure you. Claiming marks are meant to scar, even magic can not help with that." Seeing him nod he took a deep breath. "Now, I would like you to tell me what happened in that forest."

Sighing he gave another nod before going into detail about the events from tonight. Knowing now that the male knew what his female was, that she was an omega he saw no point in keeping anything from him. Not to mention it was well known that Dumbledore always knew more than he let on. "... To be honest sir I do not understand it all fully myself. It was as if I could not control my own body, I did not even recall what I had done until minutes after I had already done it.... I.. I hurt her. I did not mean to, I...."

Watching the young male struggle to understand it all he furrowed his brows. He was aware of Severus's status, or rather his supposed status. He himself believed there was more to the boy than your average beta but his records stated otherwise so he had never spoken against it. They would of course have to be changed now that the truth had come out but that was not of importance right now. "Severus, I know you meant Y/n no harm, that it was not something you could control."

"But why did I loose control like that? Why does it feel like there is this whole other person inside of me, telling me, forcing me to do things?" he questioned. He had never much cared for talking to people about his personal matters, not even Y/n, but he needed answers, he needed to know what was going on for both his and her sake.

Taking another drink from his tea he stood and moved over to his bookshelves. Searching the spines as he spoke. "You are an alpha Severus, one who's instinctual traits have been repressed for quite some time. Am I correct to assume that this all started when tonight when her amulet was ripped off?"

"Well n...no sir."

"Oh?" he asked turning to look to the boy.

"The first time I ever had that pull in my chest, that pull to her, was when we first met in the courtyard?" Seeing the male's brows raise at that he went to question it but he swiftly turned back around.

Humming he continued walking along the shelf as he looked for one in particular. "That voice you hear, those feelings you get are that of your inner alpha. The amulet that Y/n wears is a concealing stone, which I am sure you put that together yourself. It's purpose is to help hide her true status from those around her in hopes that she would be able to have a normal life. When it was removed by the Hodag so was it's magic and that is why you lost control, you could smell her." Thinking on something he kept his back to him and his hands clasped behind his back. "But it was not the first time you had smelled her scent was it?"

"No sir." Dumbledore stayed quiet for a while after that and he wondered what it was the great wizard was thinking about. Just like before though he was speaking again before he coudl question him.

Plucking the book from the shelf he moved back over to the young alpha. "I know you have many questions, that there are things you still do not understand but perhaps this book may help you with that. "

Taking the black leather book he saw it held no title and furrowed his brows.

"By all accounts except for one Y/n and yourself are now bound to one another, mates. You have claimed her as yours and nothing can be done about it." Leaning back against his desk he took a deep breath, "I of course will have to write her parents, informing them of what has happened..." Seeing the male visibly pale he felt a bit of pity for him. "As for your own parents, well that is up to you to decide."

He would be damned if he would tell his parents a damn thing about Y/n. Knowing them they would just ruin the first chance at happiness he got.

"You are an exceptionally gifted wizard Severus, so with that being said I know you will understand that it is for Y/n's own safety that her true status remains a secret until the both of you graduate. Only then will you be able to protect her to the best of your ability." Seeing his brows knit together he raised his chin. "Understand this Severus, omegas are a extremely rare breed. I have only known of three in my lifetime, one including Y/n herself and as far as I know she is the only one living in our world now. She will be highly sought after you understand." Seeing Severus give a firm nod he grinned. "That will be all for now. Read through that book there, it will help. I will see if I can acquire anymore that I know will help better explain the alpha/omega connection."

Standing he held the book and walked with Dumbledore to the door. "Sir can I..."

"Yes, for a few minutes only, the both of you need rest."

"Thank you sir." he said with a nod. Going down the staircase he hurried down to the hospital wing to see his omega. Quietly opening the door he saw Madam Pomfrey sitting in her office. As the woman glanced to him from her work and gesture to one of the beds in the back he bowed his head. Moving over to the drawn curtains he moved it to the side only a small amount to slip through, glad for the things to give them privacy. Laying the book down on the table he stepped over to her bed and eased down to sit by her side. Looking down at her he saw she was sleeping soundly, her face no longer showing pain like it was the last time he saw her. Licking his lips he brushed back her hair and saw that his claiming mark had been bandaged along with the cuts on her chest, a small amount of bandage peeking out from the neckline of the gown she now wore.

Hearing Madam Pomfrey whisper that it was time for him to leave from across the large room he looked back to her face. Letting out a small sigh he stroked her cheek with his knuckles. Even though he didn't want to leave her he knew Dumbledore was right, they both needed rest. Leaning down he gently kissed her cheek, "I will come see you first thing tomorrow morning." he promised. "Sweet dreams... my omega." he whispered. pressing his lips to her forehead for a few seconds, closing his eyes and breathing in her scent. Standing he looked back to her one last time before grabbing the book and leaving.

.............................

Keeping his word he woke the next morning and went straight to the Hospital wing to see Y/n. As early as it was it came of no surprise to find the female still sleeping so he instead pulled the chair close to her bedside and opened the black leather-bound book to start reading. His classes wouldn't start for another hour and a half so he would skip breakfast to stay with her as long as he could.

The first thing you were aware of as you came to consciousness was that you were warm the second thing you felt was a slight aching in your neck. At first you were confused but then it all came back to you and your breath stilled in your throat. You were claimed. Severus.... he had bit you, he had claimed you. Going to open your eyes you instantly closed them back as the bright light hit them but after fluttering your ashes for a moment you were adjusted and looked around the room. You were in a bed, a hospital bed from the looks of it. Oh that's right Hagrid was taking you to the hospital wing. Oh no, that meant that Madam Pomfrey had no doubt seen the mark. If she knew then Dumbledore would know. Would you be kicked out of Hogwarts? Was this going to be Ilvermorny all over again? Who else knew? And what about Severus? Had you just ruined his whole life? Feeling your breath quicken along with your heartbeat you went to get up from bed when you felt someone touching you. Snapping your eyes to the owner of the hands you felt all of your panic fade away when your eyes met the deepest of black ones.

He had been in the middle of a passage when he felt a tug in his chest. Quickly looking up to her he saw her awake and trying to move, trying to get up. She looked afraid, her breath coming out in pants and her chest quickly heaving up and down. Placing the book down he stood and leaned over her, stilling her movements. "Easy sweetheart, it is alright. Shhh..... You are alright, clam down..."

"S...sev..."

Grabbing the spare pillow he placed it behind her head to help her sit up some. "Lay back darling. Relax."

Hearing his low, deep voice you let out a deep breath, your heart slowing back down to normal as you laid back on the bed. Looking into his eyes as he moved to sit beside you on the bed you felt him continue holding your hand, stroking the back of it with his thumb. He was here so that meant that hopefully he wasn't in any trouble. Bringing your free hand up to your neck you felt a bandage there and winced as you went to pull it off but before you could he was again stopping you.

"Leave it be." Seeing her look back to him he sighed. "It is going to take time to heal, even then though it will scar."

He still felt guilty, for hurting you it would seem. You didn't want him to feel this way about it. Squeezing his hand you saw him meet your eyes and grinned, "I will wear it with pride. Proof that I am yours."

Breath catching in his throat he felt his eyes go a bit wide at her bold words before a deep blush was coloring his cheeks. Hearing her small giggle he dipped his head, his hair curtaining his face to help hide his blush. "Bloody minx." he grumbled making her only giggle more. Thinking on something he looked to their interlocked hands. "Dumbledore is writing your parents."

Taking a deep breath you gave a single nod and moved to a sitting position. "What all did he say about it?"

He was not angry. He did not say anything about us being in trouble over it." Giving a small shrug he rubbed circles on the back of her hand, "If anything he understood that it was something that neither of us could control. He said that we are now bound to one another, that we are mates and nothing can be done about it."

Thinking on his words you bit your lip, your eyes focusing on his hand holding yours. "S...severus I never meant to place you in this situation, that's why I hid what I am... I didn't mean to... to trap you... to take away your chance to... to be with someone you l..love.... I... I'm sorry that you're stuck with me as your mate..."

There was that clenching in his heart again. Looking to her he saw her head hung low, her voice soft sounding. When he watched the tear fall from her eye and onto the blankets covering her lap he frowned, his brows furrowing together. You fucking idiot, you made her cry. Shaking his head he let go of her hand to cup her face with both his hands. "Oh Y/n no. No I... I did not mean it like that. Forgive me." Seeing those blue eyes still sad looking he brushed away her tears with his thumbs. Taking a deep breath he scooted closer to her. "You said that you did not want to take away my chance of finding someone I love but the thing is I have already found the one I love." Feeling his heart hammer in his chest he looked into her eyes and gave a nervous smile. "It is you Y/n, I love you. You are not trapping me, I am not stuck with you and if I am well then I am perfectly happy with it." Huffing out he felt his own insecurities taking over. "If anything it is I who needs to apologize for trapping yo..mmmm"

Shutting him up with a kiss you felt as more tears fell from your eyes but these were happy tears. He loved you. He said he loved you. Pulling away when you needed air you gave a large smile and laid your forehead on his. "I love you too Severus."

Smiling with all the happiness he felt he wrapped his arms around her in a hug, turning to kiss her head. He had someone that loved him. This beautiful, funny, kind, caring girl loved him and now she was all his and nothing was going to change that.

.........................................

Siting next to Severus you giggled at Lily's grumbling about her upcoming O.W.L.S in Arithmancy "You're getting worried over nothing Lily, you know you are going to pass with flying colors."

Letting out a long sigh she looked to her friend and smiled. "Perhaps you are right Y/n." Glancing to the bandage still on her neck she tilted her head a bit, "So how are you feeling? That place on your neck sure is taking a while to heal. Didn't Madam Pomfrey give you any Dittany?"

Stiffening up at his best friend's observation he looked at his female through his curtain of hair and saw her hand move to the bandage covering his claiming mark.

"I am sure Severus could brew you a potion or even make you a salve to help...."

"No need. It's almost healed up I just don't want to chance my robes or hair rubbing it to irritate it."

Clever little liar she was. Still though he wondered what she would tell people when she finally removed the bandage covering the mark, the human bite mark. He had yet to get a chance to see it since the incident but he had planned on asking this weekend when they went for their date in Hogsmeade. Even though she might not approve he had managed to make some money off of Avery and Lestrange by brewing them some Polyjuice potion. While he didn't ask what they planned to use it for he had a feeling it wasn't going to be something good. Either way he was happy just to have some money to take his love out on an actual date.

Nodding to the female's response she perked up when she heard owls.

Seeing most of the students get their mail he thanked Lily when she handed him her newspaper to read while she read the letter from her parents no doubt. Wonder if Petunia was whining about Lily being a witch while she was only a normal muggle again? Seeing Y/n's owl, Sin land by her he grinned and stroked the birds chest. He was happy to say the male had warmed up to him rather quickly and if he was sitting with Y/n when he landed, which he normally was, then the bird was quick to lean forward so he could pet him.

Glancing to his dear he rose a brow at the sight of her lip bitten between her teeth as she read her own letter. That must be her parents responding to him claiming her. He couldn't lie the thought of them not liking him or even worst disapproving of him made him nervous to his core. As foolish as it was before all of this the thought of him one day meeting her parents hadn't crossed his mind. Now though he knew it would happen eventually and he found himself constantly trying to think of ways to impress them.

Reading over the letter you let out a breath you didn't know you had been holding. Ever since Dumbledore had come to visit you and told you he had written your parents you had been nervously awaiting their reply. While your parents were pretty laid back you still knew how they were about this particular subject. At least you knew they weren't disappointed in you, that they weren't bringing you home and that they were willing to give Sev a chance. Although your dad had written a few heavy handed sentences about the things he would do to the alpha you loved if he ever hurt 'his baby girl'. No all in all you knew your parents would absolutely adore Severus, your mom's words of at least he is a fellow Slytherin' making you grin. Finishing the letter you did as they instructed, placing the paper on the table you gave a flick of your hand and ignited the paper.

Starring at the paper he snapped his eyes to the omega beside him and looked at her in shock.

"Y/n... did you just..."

Humming you looked to Lily and then to Severus when you noticed him staring as well. "What? What did I do?"

"I... did not know you knew how to use wandless magic." he said in a low voice.

"Oh. Well yea but really only a few things... mostly elemental. It's nothing special really.... I'm sure the both of you can do it as well." you spoke quickly, wanting to play off your little show of power.

"Well I slowed myself down from falling when I was little... and made a flower grow faster."

Smiling you looked to her, "See I'm not that special.... Sev? you asked, looking to him but Lily spoke instead.

"He made a branch fall on my sister."

Scoffing he rolled his eyes, "Would you let that go already."

"You didn't even apologize."

"I was eight and she deserved it...stupid muggle.." he spoke, growling the last part under his breath.

"She is my sister and she isn't stupid."

Curling up as the two argued you looked down as Lily quickly grabbed her things and got up from the table before walking off. Noticing Severus's stiff shoulders and hearing his low growl you wrung your hands under the table. "I'm sorry, I didn't meant to..."

"Don't." he spoke, his voice still rough. Seeing her curl up more and feeling that sting in his chest he took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. He had read in that book that those sensations he got was their connection informing him of how his omega was feeling. It was taking time but slowly he was deciphering them and he knew that stinging was bad. Closing his eyes he grabbed her hand from under the table, bringing it to his lips to kiss her knuckles. "You did nothing wrong. Do not apologize." Watching those blue eyes look up to him in uncertainty he gave her a small grin. "I love you."

"Love you too."

Hearing the clock chime he took a deep breath and stood. "Come on, time for Defense class, do not forget that trick I taught you to remember the difference between the Iguana behaviors today on the test." Seeing her nod he threw both their bags over his shoulders, not wanting her bag to put strain on her healing mark.

Tag List: @once-upon-an-imagine @dope-shit-bro

#severus snape #severus snape x reader #alpha severus snape #alpha severus snape x omega reader #alpha beta omega #Alpha x Omega #Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics #alpha/beta/omega AU #claiming bites #harry potter fanfiction #snape fandom #angst #fluff

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fific7 · 3 years

Text

Into the Darkness / Part 3

The Darkling x Reader

A/N: This does not follow canon, it’s literally just lemon zest 🍋 ... I have a vision of Ben Barnes in his black Kefta and riding boots permanently stuck in my brain right now. Attempting to write it right out of there.

Warnings: 18+ please due to NSFW content. Some dom/sub interaction, being restrained, coercion, questionable consent (thankfully it takes place in a fantasy universe), sexual content including oral, rough unprotected* sex. I don’t mention her actual age, but Reader is not underage.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

[My GIF]

“Moi soverennyi... why have you woken me?”

“Why do you think, little dove?”

You realised that this was to be your life from now on.

His hands pulled you up from your prone position, and you found yourself crushed against his body. You knew this was done on purpose - firstly, so that you knew he was naked and secondly, so that you felt his erection against your thigh as he did so. Which you did. How long had you slept? It was probably longer but you felt as if it was only a few minutes, and yet he already wanted to - what had he called it? - fuck you again? You were still sore from earlier; your throat and between your legs felt rubbed raw.

“Turn around and get on your knees.” His voice sounded harsh for some reason, so you rushed to obey although you wondered at his tone. Maybe he didn’t like appearing needy for you, this would after all be the third time he’d had you in the saints knew how many hours. As you were thinking this, your head was pushed back down into the pillows, meaning you were now balanced on your knees and elbows with your bottom in the air.

A long finger was pushed inside you from behind and you cried out in surprise. Another finger joined it immediately and you yelped again. “Be quiet! You make too much noise, woman.” You felt his thumb moving onto the area he’d concentrated on before, rubbing circles onto it, and once again you felt pleasure rippling through you. His fingers started moving in you; coupled with what his thumb was doing, you couldn’t deny that it was enjoyable. You were breathing very shakily.

Suddenly it all stopped, only to be replaced by his hard length abruptly sliding into you without any warning. You screamed, but he’d anticipated this and had pushed your face right into the pillow, virtually silencing all your cries.

He began thrusting into you, grinding against you without mercy, the fingers of one hand digging into your hips, while the other hand kept your face buried in the pillows. You felt him remove it, “Keep your head down,” he said as he did so. His hand went to your breasts, squeezing, massaging as they hung heavy above the mattress, pulling at your nipples and making you squeal. “Will you be QUIET!” he hissed in your ear.

It felt incessant to you, was he never going to stop? He was loudly grunting this time with the effort of pounding into you. He got to make noise, but you didn’t?

You heard his long-drawn-out groan and felt relief, knowing what it meant. Once again, the warmth spread inside you and he pulled out. You felt his juices running down your legs this time, cooling as they hit the air and your skin. You slowly stretched out your back and leg muscles, and lay down gratefully on the bed. The sheets were sticky, you noticed with distaste. You felt the mattress lift slightly; he’d got up and was heading to the door.

You caught a glimpse of his naked body as he walked across the room - tall and lean but nicely muscled. The door was unlocked and he left the bedroom; you supposed he was going to re-dampen the washcloth. He returned, and sure enough you felt the warm washcloth making its way over you. He’d also brought a second washcloth and was attempting to clean up the sticky areas on the sheets.

Perhaps the action of washing you had sparked something; just as you were relaxing into enjoying it, he put his hands under your knees and pulled them up, opening your legs as he did so. You’d started squirming, feeling very exposed and uncomfortable, when you were dealt a stinging blow onto your right thigh. “Stop moving!” he ordered. Gasping, you looked into his angry face but ended up giving another longer, louder, gasp as he quickly shoved his now-erect-again cock fully into you.

You hadn’t even noticed him getting hard again. How long did it take for this to happen in men, you wondered? There was so much you didn’t know. Then you realised that he’d lifted your legs right up and placed your ankles on his shoulders.

This gave him a whole new angle to thrust into you from; he was making the most of it, his pace so fast and each deep thrust forcing a pained moan from you. You were still very tender, but that didn’t seem to have any impact on Kirigan at all. He was obviously extremely keen to continue his ‘training’ of you to accept him at any time, at any place.

For some reason, this time he didn’t finish inside you, leaning back so that his cock slid out of you, spilling onto his stomach instead. However it soon became clear why, when he told you to clean it all off him. You’d reached for the washcloth but he shook his head at you, so you dropped it back onto the bedside table.

Instead, as he’d intended, you’d used your tongue to lick him clean, meaning that all you could taste was his now-familiar salty/musky tang as you lay under the covers, staring up at the ceiling with him lying beside you.

Listening to his shallow, even breathing, wondering again why you’d ended up in his bed as his only ‘companion’.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You’d eventually fallen asleep, and when you were shaken awake again some time later, you weren’t surprised this time. You looked at him as he leaned over you, and were surprised when he kissed you, tongue easing into your mouth.

He pulled you onto your side, and you felt his cock between your legs. He thrust into you, one hand going to your breast and the other to your thigh, pulling you against him. He moved his fingers to where he disappeared inside you, finding that spot with his thumb and rubbing it over and over, making you jump. His pace was slightly slower this time, his thrusts less punishing. Once he’d released inside you, he continued rubbing at you, massaging your breasts and kissing you until you climaxed. You remembered to thank him as instructed, and he’d stroked your hair as if you were a pet.

This time, as soon as he slid out of you, he more or less fell asleep immediately. It took you longer, as you now had an extremely painful ache between your legs which was difficult to ignore. In the space of a few hours, you’d gone from untouched virgin to having been fucked five times in a row without respite, and it was taking a terrible toll on your body. Your throat still burned, and your hand went between your legs trying to soothe the heat which burned there, and you finally drifted off to sleep.

When you next opened your eyes, it was brighter in the room. He was still fast asleep, but almost as if he’d sensed you were awake, his eyes flickered open. He gazed at you, reaching over and stroking one of your breasts, before rolling your nipple between his fingers. He propped himself up on one elbow, leaning over and letting his tongue lazily run over the nipple and surrounding area, before starting to bite at it. Then he moved to your other breast, beginning the same ritual.

You jumped again as he bit down. “Would it be correct to say that you like my breasts, moi soverennyi?” you asked, staring back at him. “A lot?”

He laughed. “Yes, it would be.” He sat up properly, placing both hands on them and grasping greedily at them. “In fact, I’d go so far as to say I’m obsessed by them. They’re so... full and soft, and a perfect fit for my hands. They’re partly why you are here.”

You sat up a bit. “I’ve been wondering about that... why I’m here, I mean. I did not know you before I was brought to your quarters.”

He toyed with your nipples as he said, “Ah, but I happened to see you in the Camp about a month ago... coming out of your tent in the early morning. In just your trousers and undershirt. You were not aware I was watching you. And I would be lying if I said I didn’t study your body closely in the dawn light, through your thin shirt. Your breasts - what I could see of them - looked perfect that morning. I couldn’t get that vision of you out of my head. And now I have you, in every way. I can touch you, kiss you, fuck you, whatever I want.”

Grabbing one breast again, he kissed your nipple, lapping at it. He looked up at you, grey eyes looking softer than usual. “I’d say that makes me a very lucky man.”

You were silent, absolutely amazed that you’d caught his eye over all the other Grisha women.

He continued, “I’d sent the Oprichniki to bring you here the morning you deserted. I’d decided by then that I needed to make you my companion, only to find that you’d disappeared. But luckily you were in the first place they looked.” He laughed, “You didn’t make it particularly difficult to find you.”

You’d been turning over all he’d just told you in your mind. “You said ‘partly’ why I was here?” you queried.

He nodded, “Yes. I also checked your medical records. You are young, healthy and fertile.”

Your mouth dropped open at the implication.

He said, quite matter-of-factly, hand sliding from your breast to your stomach, “In addition to fulfilling my needs, you’re going to have my child.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You were in his tent at the Camp, several days after his revelation. Things had progressed pretty much as they’d started. He’d schooled you in various other sexual positions, had eaten you out several times, and shown you various other things he liked you to do while you were sucking him off. He’d praised you as a quick learner, and continued to take you pretty much whenever he pleased.

He’d finally noticed how chafed you were, and had brought you a balm from the medics. It had helped a little, although not with your sore and over-used vagina and throat.

There were no shackles now; he knew you wouldn’t jeopardise your family by trying to escape. You were even allowed to venture outside. While you were in his tent, you wore a linen robe or more likely nothing at all. But you’d been given a black Kefta to wear when you did leave the tent, the Grisha woman who’d brought it to you giving you a strange and - possibly jealous? - look.

The black Kefta had confused you and so you’d questioned him about it, about why it wasn’t blue.

“Because you belong to me,” he’d answered shortly. “This proclaims that you’re off limits to other men.”

Now it made sense. You’d seen the stares and side-long looks as you walked through the Camp, had heard the whispers. One thought came to you, so you voiced it.

“Your little Sun Summoner had the same, I hear.”

He laughed, “Are you jealous?”

You vigorously shook your head, “No!”

“She wore it for the Winter Fete, that’s all,” he shrugs. “You get to wear yours all the time. And it’s different to hers. Much more splendid. Everyone now knows who you are.”

You glared at him, “And who am I exactly?”

“My consort.” He began undoing his fly, “Come here and kneel down.”

You knelt in front of him. It had taken very little time for you to learn that he liked you rather than him to free his cock from his trousers before you sucked him off, which is what you did now. He slid it into your mouth, as usual keeping his hand firmly on the back of your head so he was in control of you.

You’d also quickly learnt to make almost no noise, as you were no longer servicing him in private.

He moved back from you after a few minutes, leaving your mouth unexpectedly empty. However you’d noticed that in the past couple of days, blow jobs now usually ended in sex. He moved to the large chair in the corner of the tent, sat down and beckoned you over to him.

You went to him and he gestured to his lap. You obediently straddled him, taking his cock inside you as you did so. Moving on him, you saw his head going back, his eyes closing, jaw clenching and hands groping your breasts. He came fairly quickly, no doubt due to the partial blow job, and you slid off him, walking to the other side of the tent to pour a basin of warm water from the large metal jug sitting on a low flame, and a washcloth.

You ran the cloth over him, tucking him back into his uniform trousers before seeing to yourself. As you stood to take the basin away, he caught your wrist, looking intensely at you.

“You’ve learnt well, in a very short space of time. You’re being a very good girl.”

“I thought I was a woman?” you snarked, and he laughed, “Fine...woman, then.” He ran his thumb over the skin of your wrist, “You’ve been taking my cock so well, and you like it rough now, don’t you?”

You nodded dutifully, “Yes, moi soverennyi.” In fact, you didn’t particularly, but you had to keep this dangerous man happy.

“When is your monthly cycle due?” he suddenly asked you. Blushing deeply - this was not something you usually discussed with men - you answered, “About 10 days’ time.” “Make sure to keep track,” he instructed you, “it shouldn’t take long for you to get with child.”

You could believe it. Since you’d been brought to him, he’d been on you constantly. You felt as if you were permanently hobbling around; in addition to oral sex, he usually fucked you three or four times a day, which, according to more gossip you’d heard in the past, was not usual except maybe between newlyweds on their honeymoon. Which you & he definitely were not.

But you’d surprised yourself by having some kind of feelings for him. You were in fact jealous of his ‘little Sun Summoner’ as you called her, although he’d confided to you that they’d never had sex. He also told you that while he had felt a connection with her, she’d ruined that when she’d run off and disappeared from his life.

You’d asked him what he’d do if she returned, and he’d shrugged, “Nothing. She is dead to me.” But you wondered if that was true, or if you’d be cast aside for her.

You seemed to have accepted that you’d be with him for a lot longer than you’d initially expected. Especially if you did become pregnant. He had become more tender with you lately, kissing you when you least expected it or running his fingers down your cheek. One morning, you’d awoken to find him gazing at you and stroking some strands of hair off your face.

But he could still be arrogant, harsh and demanding, meaning that you did your best to keep him pleasured. He would still take you without warning; he’d once shoved you up against the wall of an empty corridor in the Little Palace, undoing your trousers, moving your underwear aside and pushing inside you right then and there. He’d been thrusting into you like a madman, and as usual you felt like it went on forever. You were petrified that someone would see or hear the two of you, in fact you still weren’t sure they hadn’t. But you’d acquiesced as always, and let him have his way with you.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Ten days later, he asked if your period had started. You confirmed that it had, that morning. “Well, we shall have to try even harder, shall we not?” Inwardly, you groaned. You definitely wouldn’t be able to walk if that was the case.

He didn’t leave you alone even for those few days, just carried on fucking you when the notion took him. His stamina was quite impressive. He’d even left a strategy meeting he was attending a mere half hour after he’d had sex with you, spent 10 minutes rutting on you, before fixing his slightly dishevelled uniform and returning to his meeting.

He’d also had you brought over to the large tent where he and his senior men held these meetings. One of his men took you to a side entrance which led to a little area screened off from the main space, containing a plain table and chair.

He’d arrived a few moments later, striding over and bending you over the desk, putting his hand over your mouth and pushing roughly inside you from behind, grunting quietly and thrusting into you for some time. His mouth was next to your ear, and he gave his signature long low moan as he came. Then he was gone without one word spoken, before you could even stand up and turn round.

A few minutes later, the same Oprichnik who’d brought you over to the tent arrived, smirking, to take you back. His eyes had run over your body quite blatantly and when you arrived at your tent, you’d said, “Thank you. I’ll be sure to tell General Kirigan how interested you were in my well-being.” The smirk and roving eyes were instantly replaced with fear, and he hurried away from you.

You couldn’t deny Kirigan made it plain that he found you totally desirable, which understandably did wonders for your self-confidence.

However, this back-fired on you. You were now on nodding terms with Ivan, Kirigan’s second-in-command. He was another dangerous man, who you also wished to stay on the right side of. One evening, you were sipping at a small glass of kvas when Ivan came into the tent. He was looking for his commanding officer, who was in one of his interminable meetings.

You asked if he wished to wait for him, as he shouldn’t be long in returning. He accepted and also took a glass of kvas with you, growing more conversational as the time passed. He regaled you with tales of some of his & Kirigan’s exploits, and you’d been laughing at one he’d just told you when the Darkling came striding into the tent. Ivan leapt to his feet and stood at attention.

As he took in the scene before him, Kirigan scowled ferociously at both of you, barking out, “What’s this! I leave for an hour, and you’re sniffing and drooling round my woman like a dog in heat, Ivan?”

Ivan’s face reddened, and he shuffled his feet guiltily. Like most of the men, he found you very attractive. They all knew that Kirigan was fucking you, and he had in fact been thinking what a lucky bastard he was when the man himself had arrived.

“No, moi soverennyi! I assure you... I was waiting for you and I merely spoke of some of our past campaigns.” Kirigan sneered, “Which caused her to laugh? Is what we did so amusing?”

His glare turned to you, “Is it?!” You shook your head, “No... well, it was just Ivan mentioned that you happened to rip your trousers once when you...” but you stopped talking when you saw the expression on his face.

Ivan hastily took his leave, saying he would update him in the morning instead.

The Darkling looked at you with icy eyes. He took off his Kefta and threw it onto one of the chairs, and began unbuckling his trousers. “Take your clothes off, and get on the bed.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

#the darkling x reader #the darkling #aleksander morozova #general kirigan #shadow and bone #ben barnes #aleksander morozova x reader #general kirigan x reader #the darkling imagine #the darkling fanfiction #the darkling into the darkness

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redhoodssweetheart · 3 years

Text

Star-Crossed Lovers Part Two

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Requested: Yes @sarcasmismyfirstlove

Word Count: 2.5K

Warnings: Swearing, angst, Reader has an assumed name in this (she is not named, but she goes by Sophia Turner since she is in hiding)

Description: Y/N now lives in Metropolis, she likes her life, but she misses the one she lost. Jason has spent eight months trying to find her, but to no avail. Maybe they truly weren’t meant to be.

A/N: I originally wasn’t going to post this part so soon. But I got inspired today and couldn’t stop writing it. I hope y’all enjoy. And please pretend that’s not a notebook for school okay. I’m too lazy to go looking for something new right now.

Her window was open letting in a nice spring breeze. Dinner was cooking in the oven and she was reading over the events from that day. It had been eight months since Y/N had hopped off the bus at the Metropolis station and entered the motel she would be staying at for the next few days. That was when she had found a quaint apartment that would do until she got on her feet.

Her phone buzzed and she looked over at it.

Clark: I need a favor, Sophie.

Sophie. The name she had assumed when she moved to Metropolis. Her full name was Sophia Turner. Sionis was more than likely dead, but Y/N wasn’t taking any chances. She hadn’t stopped looking over her shoulder since that night, and sometimes she would dream that he had found her.

In her dreams sometimes he was torturing her, but sometimes it was Red sitting in that chair. He was begging her to do something while Sionis laughed sadistically and said, “My little puppet ain’t gonna do shit, Red. She used you.”

“No!” Y/N would cry when she registered the betrayal on Red’s face.

She would sit up straight in her bed and gasp before the dream went any further. Most of the time she would look at the clock and see it was still in the early hours of the morning.

Now she was staring at the text from Clark and sighed.

Sophia: I’m listening, but you’ll owe me, Kent.

Clark was a good guy. A little flighty at times, but that was part of his charm. He was the one that had taken the risk on her when she had gone to the Daily Planet trying to get a job. He never abused that either. He was a genuinely good guy, something that had unnerved Y/N at first, but now she was grateful for it.

Clark: I’m supposed to be meeting with Lex Luthor tomorrow to ask him about the Superboy project, but I’m needed elsewhere. Sort of a family emergency. Do you think you can cover for me with Lex?

Lex was Metropolis’s biggest asshole. And she could eat him for breakfast.

Sophia: Sure thing. Need me to water your plants while you’re away?

Clark: Please? I’ll leave the key to my place in my top desk drawer, just pick it up tomorrow when you come in. You’re a lifesaver, Sophie.

A lifesaver…. Sure.

Jason came home to the manor at least once a week for a good home cooked meal and so he wouldn’t be alone at the safehouse. He hadn't returned to the one that he and Y/N had always frequented. He couldn’t, she was still haunting the place. Tonight however when he entered the manor he heard Dick and Tim arguing.

“You need to tell him,” Dick hissed. “He deserves to know the truth.”

“No, I made a promise to her that I wouldn’t,” Tim spat back. “Plus I haven’t even found Sionis yet. How would it look if Red Hood showed up in a city other than Gotham? Sionis knows about them, and Y/N would be compromised.”

Jason’s breath hitched at the sound of her name. Tim knew? Tim knew and hadn’t told Jason anything.

He threw open the door so hard that it let a dent in the wall, Dick cringed knowing that Alfred was going to be mad at that. Tim looked coolly at Jason, unbothered by the display. “Where is she, Replacement?”

“Who?”

Jason was starting to see red. “You know damn well who. Y/N. Where is she? What the fuck did you do?”

Dick came over to Jason and put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, but it was roughly tossed off by Jason, “Jay--”

“Don’t,” he snapped, his gaze going to Dick. “Don’t you dare. Tim knows something and I want to know what it is.”

Bruce entered the kitchen, having heard the raucous that his boys were causing. “Tim, Dick, I need a moment alone with Jason.” They nodded and swiftly made their exit. Bruce leaned against the counter, “Y/N’s story about how she came to work with Sionis was true.” Jason looked at Bruce confused. “Except I met her a month before she met you.”

“What?” Jason’s tone relayed the shock he felt.

Bruce closed his eyes, “She got mixed up with the wrong people because of her boyfriend and after Sionis killed him he kidnapped her and forced her to take on the role as a bodyguard. Commissioner Gordon came to me with a note from an anonymous source from someone in Sionis’s organization telling him to send the Bat to a certain location. I met with Y/N and she told me that she wanted out, that she didn’t want to be payment for her ex’s misdeeds. She fed me information and in exchange I promised to set her free.”

“So you knew that she was going to fake her death this entire time?!” Jason’s anger was returning. He had spent the last eight months agonizing over where she could be, turning over every stone only to come up with a dead end. And this entire time Bruce had known it was a ploy all along.

“Yes, but didn’t know the two of you had been involved. She never disclosed that to me, and I didn’t expect her to tell me things she did in her free time.” Bruce looked regretful, “Jason, I think you were the only normal relationship in her life and I think you brought her some semblance of happiness.”

“Apparently not enough to tell me the plan,” he said bitterly.

Bruce pulled something from his pocket and passed it over to Jason, “It’s from her. I don’t know where it came from, but if I had to guess I wouldn’t be able to figure it out either. I haven’t read it, but maybe she will answer some of your questions.” With that, Bruce took his leave.

Dear Red,

By now you probably know that I’m not dead. Maybe you even know that I met with Batman a month before I ever even met with you. That was purely coincidental. I didn’t plan on things progressing like they did between us. It made my job a whole hell of a lot more complicated that it needed to be. And for what it’s worth I’m sorry for how it all went down, but Red, I hope you understand that I couldn’t tell you. That was just not an option.

I’m somewhere safe for now. I have been for awhile, just blending in and living my life to the fullest that I can. I hope you’re doing well too and not getting too many bullet wounds. Who’s going to patch you up now that I’m not there :p

He chuckled at the little hand drawn face.

I do miss you, Red. Our banter. Your kisses. How you made me feel normal for a few hours a night. Even with the mask on I could still pretend we were just two average people living our lives.

We were dealt a shitty hand, and as I told you that night we truly are just star-crossed lovers. I’ll see you in the next life, Red. Maybe that one will be kinder to us, and maybe I can finally see what color your eyes are. Can I tell you what color I think they are? Blue, I always imagined you had the prettiest shade of blue eyes. Like the sky on a summer day. Cloudless and beautiful.

I need to cut this short before I start crying on the page. Take care of yourself, Red. I’ll be waiting for you at the River Styx or maybe you’ll be waiting for me. And I’ll finally know your real name and what color your eyes truly are.

Goodbye, Red.

Y/N

Jason stared at your name signed at the bottom for the longest time and finally when he tore his eyes away from it, he neatly folded it and put it back in the envelope. He then headed up to his room and stored the letter in one of his drawers, not wanting anyone to disturb it.

The Daily Planet was bustling when Y/N arrived to work the following morning. Clark - who was usually in before her - was nowhere to be seen. She hadn’t expected to see him, but it was still weird.

Wandering over to his desk she found the key like he had promised and stuck it in her pocket before heading to her own desk and preparing for the meeting with Lex. Lois stopped by her desk to say good morning and chit chat for a few minutes before going to work on her own assignments. Around ten thirty Y/N headed out to LexCorp.

“Mr. Kent was supposed to be interviewing Mr. Luthor,” the receptionist said.

Y/N kept the forced smile on her face, “Yes, that’s true, but Mr. Kent unfortunately had an emergency that has taken him out of the city and he asked me to fill in.” She showed the receptionist her credentials. “I am more than qualified to handle the interview today.”

“It’s fine Lacy,” a new voice added and Y/N turned to see Lex standing there with a smile on his face. “I was alerted of the change last night, Mr. Kent was nice enough to email me and let me know. Miss Turner, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“You too, Mr. Luthor,” she responded. As she made to leave the receptionist area she shot a scathing look at the girl behind the desk who was frowning. She probably thought Y/N was some groupie waiting to throw herself at Lex.

As if.

The two of them made it into Lex’s office and he offered her something to drink. “Water, coffee, tea? Just say the word and I can have it here for you immediately.”

“No thank you, I’m quite all right,” the quicker that she could get this interview over the better. She got her recorder set up and looked to Lex, “Clark informed me that he was going to be talking to you about the Superboy project, is that correct?”

“Yes it is, everyone has been dying to know more about the program,” he responded. “The world needed a Superman, as I’m sure you’re aware Superman was thought to be dead there for a good while.”

Y/N had known that, although she had been in Gotham at the time more concerned with her own welfare than that of a superhero that had supposedly died. “I am, so you decided to respond and give Metropolis hope then? That is what Superman represents, is it not?”

There was a shift in Lex’s smile that Y/N picked up on, but she wasn’t going to push him on it. He apparently had a dislike of Superman, but if he didn’t like him then why create a clone? “Yes it is, and yes I wanted to give this city some hope that everything was going to be okay. That LexCorp would make sure that while the big, bad Superman was away I would be the one to look after us.”

Y/N hummed, “Mr. Luthor, how long have you been working on this project? This doesn’t seem like an overnight solution and you seemed to unveil it fairly quickly?”

“Are you trying to insinuate something, Miss Turner?” Lex’s eyes narrowed.

Y/N’s smile turned predatory, “No sir, just merely asking some questions. I wondered how something as complex as replicating Superman’s powers took place so quickly. And how? How did you replicate Superman’s powers?”

“I had some of Superman’s DNA on hand, a gift from the Man of Steel himself,” Lex replied coolly.

Hardly, Y/N thought. She knew how these heroes worked, their identities were pivotal in maintaining some semblance of a normal life outside of hero hours. There was no way that Lex had legally obtained that DNA sample he claimed to have gotten from Superman. “It sounds like you and Superman are close, would you say that the two of you are friends?”

“Oh yes,” Lex matched her smile as if trying to intimidate her. What he didn’t know is she had been around some of the worst Gotham had to offer and he didn’t frighten her in the slightest. “We were very close.”

“You must have been crushed when everyone thought that he had died.” She saw through his smile and the lies. Superman and Lex weren’t close, but he wasn’t going to say that in something that would be printed in the Daily Planet.

“I was, it was like losing an old friend,” Lex rested a hand over his chest for dramatic effect.

Before she could ask her next question they heard someone saying, “Sir, sir you can’t go in there.”

The door to Lex’s office opened and revealed Bruce Wayne. Y/N had never had the pleasure of meeting him when she had lived in Gotham. She hadn’t run in those circles, but she would know the billionaire anywhere. “Lex, we need to speak now.” His gaze landed on her and she froze. For the first time in a while she felt exposed under the intense look he was giving her.

“Could it wait, Bruce,” Lex forced out. “I am in a meeting with the lovely Miss Sophia Turner here.”

Y/N turned to Lex, still feeling the weight of Bruce’s stair on her back as she did so, “It’s all right, Mr. Luthor. You seem to have some important business to attend to right now. Thank you for your time. The article should be out by Friday if all goes well. Email me with any other information you can disclose about the Superboy project that would be pertinent for the article. Have a nice day,” then she fled as quickly as she could.

Bruce watched Y/N flee the office. Sophia Turner, huh? He wasn’t surprised to find her living under an assumed name. He looked to Lex who was glaring at him, “Did I interrupt something?”

Lex’s eyes narrowed, “You damn well know you did. Now what do you want?”

“You have a leak,” Bruce said, causing Lex’s face to pale.

Y/N made it back to her desk without any other blasts from her past and she began to go over the information she had from her interview and checked her email to see that Lex’s assistant had sent over any other relevant information she would need to type up the remaining gaps.

A few hours later she was closing up shop and heading to Clark’s to make sure his plants didn’t die. As she moved down the sidewalk her mind drifted to thoughts of Red Hood, wondering what he was up to and if he were okay. She also wondered if he had gotten her letter yet or if maybe he had thrown it out the moment he knew that it was from her.

She wouldn’t blame him if he had.

As she continued down the street she accidentally bumped into someone. She stumbled for a moment and looked up as she said, “Sorry.” When her eyes met his, she was shocked to find the prettiest blue she had ever seen.

He smiled at her, “It’s all right. Have a good evening.” Then he was sidestepping her and going about his business. She watched him go, wondering why he seemed so familiar to her.

And those eyes.

Like the sky on a summer day. Cloudless and beautiful.

#Jason Todd x Reader #Jason Todd x Fem!Reader #Jason Todd x Reader angst #Jason Todd #Jason Todd fanfic #Jason Todd fanfiction #Jason Todd angst #Requested

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lubdubsworld · 3 years

Text

Make you mine.

One Shot.

!8 +

Hoseok x OC

Angst , fluff

OC is a popular solo idol in love with street dancer Jung Hoseok.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“One date. Come on...let me take you out for coffee. Once, just once?” I sounded like a broken record at this point , hands gripping his arm as he leaned against the table, writing out something about positions on his notebook.

Jung Hoseok, impatient as always, gave me a shove, causing me to trip and land on my butt.

“Ow.” I muttered glaring at him. He stared down at me, unimpressed.

“I told you not to come in here when I’m working. No. I won’t get coffee with you. Now go climb into that million dollar car of yours and get the fuck away from me.” He said sharply and i flinched at the coldness in his tone.

I swallowed. Grinning wide, i ignored the sharp sting of his rejection. i could process the hurt later. For now, i had to change tactics. Lifting myself up, I rubbed my tailbone , moving closer and trying to peer into his notebook.

“Okay...no coffee..” I smiled, touching his arm gently and pulling back again when he glared pointedly at me., “ That’s fine . What’s your plan when this ends? I don’t have anything on my schedule for the next two hours. We could just hang out? Talk about stuff? Your sister told me you’ve been working on a mixtape recently? I’d love to listen ....”

Hoseok groaned.

“Leah, go get your fucking hair done or buy out the latest Gucci collection or whatever it is that you rich snobby bitches do in your free time. Stop hounding me... we have nothing in common? Why on earth would i want to hang out with you?” He snapped.

I shrugged.

“Because of my rocking hot bod and angelic voice? Because I happen to be the nation’s sweetheart? Because i got voted, “most likely to offer you her umbrella in a thunderstorm “ last week? I’m kind and beautiful and sexy. I can cook you your favorite dishes and suck your dick under the table while you’re eating it? “

One of his students, who just happened to be drinking water a couple of feet away from us, spat it all back out, wheezing as he gave me a look of horror.

I gave him a sweet smile and a wave. He blushed red and smiled wide at that and my smile faltered. \

I was sick of the adoration, sick of the applause, the praise , the compliments and the flattery. Sick of the stage itself and I couldn’t wait for my contract to end this year. I wanted to get back to songwriting and singing in my studio. Releasing vocal tracks only. No more make up or pastel dresses or bunny years. No more aegyo in fansigns , no more pretending to get scared by fucking confetti on the stage. No more giggling when a guy looks at me. No more shying away from anything even remotely adult because i was delicate.

I was drawn out of my thoughts by Hoseok clearing his throat.

“So you’re not leaving?” He tilted his head in question.

“I love you.” I said simply.

Hoseok sighed, reaching out and gripping my elbow hard. He yanked me close, till I was right in front of him and I licked my lips, shamelessly staring at the plump redness of his lips. He gripped me harder at that, fingers digging into the tender flesh of my arm and I gasped.

My entire body sang at the contact and it was impossible to explain how it made me feel. Hoseok looked angry. He was angry. But I didn’t particularly care. Not when he was touching me like this.

I stared at his face, his beautiful fucking face with the sharp angular features, his dreamy body ,broad shoulders and lean waist, those mile long legs and those thick thighs.

I wanted something raw and real and heady and strong and there was nothing more breathtaking than the man in front of me. A real man. The kind of man you wouldn’t mind getting on your knees for, even in public. the kind of man who makes your breath catch in your lung. Makes your lips part and your thighs wet.

He smiled.

“You don’t know what the fuck love is, you little--- ” He shook his head , swallowing the insult and I bit my lips, making to move closer but his grip tightened holding me away from his body. Pain began shooting up y arm but I ignored it.

“Then show me...I want you. “ I said softly.

“I’m not a sextoy you can buy because you saw me in a catalogue. if you’re horny go fuck one of your cotton candy haired oppas. ” his free hand shot up, gripping my jaw .

I wanted to scream .

“That’s not what this is.” I choked a little when his thumb slipped down to my neck and squeezed . I kept my eyes trained on him, refusing to back away. I’d done a lot of that in the early months. But after nine months, this crush or whatever sure wasn’t going away. and i wasn’t even going to try denying how badly I wanted him.

“What is it then? Because right now all I’m seeing is a desperate little slut, so eager for attention she’s willing to beg for my di-”

“Hob-ah...let her go.” Min Yoongi’s calm voice rang out from behind us and hoseok smirked. He stepped away and I knew he’d bruised my chin and my arm. But I resisted the urge to rub against the skin.

“One date.” I whispered. “Please.”

He smiled , his face softening .

“Never in a million years. Get the fuck out of here before I call security.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yoongi watched Hoseok go through the routine one more time, flat on his back, head cradled in his arms .

“Why do you keep refusing that girl?” He called out .

Hoseok didn’t stop dancing.

“Cos I don’t like her.” he grunted, hips rolling in tune to the music, sweat dripping down his neck.

Yoongi scoffed.

“You do know I’ve seen your search history right? For someone who doesn’t like her you sure spend way too many of your waking hours watching her fancams. ‘

That made Hoseok pause.

“Whatever hyung, she’s just joking around. “

“For nine whole months? i think she means business.”

“What business? Fuck me once and leave... not into that.”

“ Or maybe she wants to get to know you...”

“What’ there to know hyung... nothing that would interest someone like her, for sure. She probably spends more many a day than i make in a month. I’m nowhere near her level.”

Yoongi sighed.

Hoseok’s mind seemed to be made up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When i first heard that they wanted me to debut Solo, I’d been so flattered. Debuting solo meant I would have no one else to please or get along with. i could do my own thing and just the fact that they trusted me enough for that made me feel on top of the world.

But as time went by , I realized that all it meant was I would be saddled with bone-crushing loneliness.

Alone in the waiting rooms.

Alone on the stage.

Alone while the other female artists crowded together.

It was lonely on the top and I had to smile and laugh through it all.

But the loneliness was most pronounced when I was stuck without a friend. A girl i could confide in and trust .

When everything is silent and quiet, that is when the loneliness inside you screamed the loudest.

I sat with my knees drawn up , leaning against the wall and staring out of the bay windows, watching the rain pound the glass.

And in the vast emptiness of my apartment, it was always silent and quiet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Alright , that’s it!!!” Hoseok grabbed my arm, hauling me straight off the small stool i was sitting on and I yelped, surprised.

“Hoseok-”

“Get the fuck out of here. I know for a fact that you’re only looking for someone to play around with and I’m not going to be the poor pathetic sod who get caught on camera with you only to get hated on and cancelled and whatever the fuck else your cult does..... I want you out of my life.!!” He shouted and I dug my heels into the ground, yanking my arm away from him.

“I don’t fucking care about any of that. My contract ends in two months ...I’m not going to sign back on with my damned company!! They can’t control who i see and neither can my fans!!”

“You’re going to quit your company...? the biggest label in the country? You expect me to believe that?!” He scoffed.

“It’s true! I’ve had enough of being on the stage. I don’t enjoy it anymore ! All its done is “ left me sad and alone and without a single friend.

‘”Paid for all your ridiculously expensive lifestyle?” He sneered.

I sighed.

“You’re obsessed with my money Hoseok. I’ve never flaunted it in front of you. I’d be happy eating dukkbeokkie from a street stall with you. I don’t care about money or my company.”

“Really? you don’t care about your company?” he shook his head in disbelief .

“I don’t.” i insisted.

“then how about this. I’ll be done with the day at nine o clock tonight. Meet me at the dance studio at ten. Come alone. just you. And not in that flashy car of yours. Take a fucking cab. Don’t bring your fucking bodyguard or your manager. Don’t even tell them where you’re going. If you can do that, I’ll believe you.” He said softly.

I swallowed.

“I...that’s... that’s dangerous.”

He scoffed.

“Thought so. Your money and your label is a part of you. And they’re things i can’t stand. So just stop-”

“Okay!” I blurted out, heart pounding.

Hoseok stopped talking, staring at me with a frown.

“What?”

“Okay.. i’ll... I’ll take a cab from my apartment.... I’ll come meet you at the studio. “ I whispered.

“Don’t be a fucking idiot.” He said harshly.

I felt my anger rise.

“You asked me whether I can put aside my money and label.... I can! I fucking can!”

“Just leave Leah! ” He turned on his heel.

“I’m going to be there!! At ten , tonight. And if I show up and you don’t, let’s just admit that you’re a fucking coward, Jung Hoseok!!!” I screamed at him.

He didn’t even look back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

The studio is deserted.

Of course it is.

Feeling a little bit like a fool, I wrap my arms around myself, sinking into the shadows as I walk up and down the hallways. Its still just a little past ten. I could wait a while. Just in case he changed his mind.

Ten minutes. Fifteen minutes.

I swallowed, the darkness seeming to close in on me.

Footsteps made my ears perk up but then anxiety spiked when i heard unfamiliar voices.

“....she fucking pants after him like a bitch in heat and the bastard is too much of a pussy to take her up on the offer.” One of them says .

“I know. Holier than thou Hoseok. Fucking prick. Like if you don’t want that a grade cunt, why not just pass it on to one of us huh?”

“....fuck ...just wanna run into her in some dark alley. I’ll stuff my fingers in her whore mouth and give it to her nice and hard , like she obviously wants. “

Nausea rising, I stumbled to my feet and made to move away but they had already turned the corner, both of them stopping at the sight of me.

I felt my heart leap up into throat... stark terror blooming inside me. I opened my mouth to scream but my voice wouldn’t come , I was too petrified to even breath.

I turned on my heel, adrenaline making me run really hard.

I’d barely moved a few inches when i crashed into a very familiar chest.

Strong arms wrapped around me, drawing me into his warmth and i heard Hoseok’s voice growl from above me.

“You’re fired. “ His voice trembled with rage. “ You have five minutes to get the fuck out of here.”

Both of them stood frozen.

“Hyungnim...we’re...”

“If you leave right now you’ll be walking out. If not you’re gonna be needing a fucking ambulance , Jaehyun.”

The sound of them scarpering away made me relax, exhaling in sweet blessed relief as I sagged into his arms. The cry that I couldn’t vocalize earlier came back with a vengeance and i choked, pushing away from him.

“I... I’m... i need to go.” I sobbed out, my nerves completely frayed as I stumbled a little. Hoseok’s hands reached out gripping my waist when i lost my balance and I flinched trying to pull away.

“Leah...wait. Leah...” He said , sounding upset and i felt like a stupid, pathetic fool.

“They were right. You’re.... you don’t want me. That’s not your fault...I’m such a... “ The tears threatened but i refused to cry in front of him. That’s what my big, expensive apartment was for.

“Leah...no. Its not fucking true...Fucking look at me, Damn it” He grabbed my shoulders shaking me and i was forced to stare at his face.

“I like you.” He gritted out. “ Fuck I may even be a little bit in love with you and I feel like the worst kind of bastard, making you come here tonight..alone but i swear I didn’t think you would turn up... It was so fucking reckless baby.... You could’ve gotten hurt, why would you come here....”

“you like me?” I whispered, stunned.

He stopped , sighing.

“Yes... I do.. Always have. i just... I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea what with who you are and....You deserve someone who can spoil you and I’m far from being made of gold....”

I cut him off with a kiss, throwing my arms around his neck and pressing my lips against his.

He laughed and kissed me back, lips soft and gentle against mine.

“It’s a good idea. “ I whispered, nodding my head.

He hummed, rubbing his nose against mine, gripping my thighs and hauling me up into his arms. I wrapped my legs around his waist, clinging to him.

“We have a lot to talk about.” He said softly.

“We do.” i agreed.

His lips pressed against mine again.

“But than can wait?” He asked softly.

“Yes it can.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

author’s note : just a snipper for that prompt i wrote earlier :D I’ll probably make one more part of this later :D

#hoseok fics #'hoseok smut

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show-choir-gal · 3 years

Text

“Pretty Boy” Oliver Wood Smut

Requested by: savannah117230 on wattpad "Can you do an Oliver Wood smut? They could be best friends since 3rd year but she is a Slytherin so they kept their friendship a secret but in their 5th year their friendship is exposed. You can make up the rest because I'm not that creative lol."

A/N: I really like this idea! I'm going to switch it up a bit but I still really enjoy this! I did a bunch of drinking towards the end of it so if there's anything wrong just lmk lmao.

Warnings: SMUT, cursing, a brief instance of sexual assault, oral (male and female receiving)

Word count: 7,473

Guide: Y/N: Your Name Y/L/N: Your Last Name Y/H/C: Your Hair Colour

*************

I was the presumed heiress of Slytherin, both my parents were very prominent and well known Death Eaters. I was even sometimes called Slytherins "princess" just waiting for another noble Slytherin to come and sweep me off my feet. Marcus Flint, a boy in my year, was convinced he was my "knight in shining armour" and would try to get with me every chance he got. Typically, it always ended with me saying, "I'm sorry but who are you again?" But it never stopped, he was really persistent. It was kind of sad though, but I had to just deal with it. It was a big shock, to my fellow housemates, when I showed up at Quidditch trails. I walked out onto the pitch and just saw all these mouths agape. I looked at every single boy on that pitch with confusion. "We just weren't expecting to see you here Y/N." Our captain, Duncan Pucey said with almost as much as confusion drawn on his face like the rest of the boys standing there. "You boys seem to forget my father was a keeper his entire time here AND played for years on the Falmouth Falcons. Now, can we please stop gawking at me and start trials already?" I retaliated. It was no surprise when I made the team, but it was a surprise when I was placed as a chaser. I for sure thought I would be keeper just like my father. Duncan pulled me aside the last practice before games officially started, "I want you to know that you're brilliant in any position you play, but I need you as a chaser. There's a boy on the Gryffindor team, his name is Oliver...Wood? I think it's Oliver Wood and he knows Quidditch almost as well as you. I need you to keep the chasers on the best path to keeping us winning." He explained as he patted my back and then sent me off to the locker room. And that's exactly what I did. I was keeping the chasers in check, including Duncan. We made plays that no one dared to mess with and were almost impossible to beat. I wasn't entirely like my father, no no. My mother was the brightest witch of her time and it was clear I was following those footsteps as well. Best of both worlds one would assume. I wasn't some Slytherin who only did enough to pass class, I was going above and beyond each time and I quickly made it to top of my class.

The end of our second year wasn't super eventful, until Oliver and I were paired together for what seemed like the millionth time in Charms. Professor Flitwick rarely ever let us choose our own partners which would typically would be fine with me, but I was just continuously paired with Oliver Wood. Once I saw his usual grades, I immediately knew why. He was doing enough to pass, such a shame because he actually was brilliant. Our last class of charms before final exams came and went, but Professor Flitwick surprised me when he called Oliver and I up to his desk after class. "Is there something wrong Professor?" I questioned, shifting my bag behind my shoulders as I pulled my Y/H/C out from behind the bag. "Not per-say Miss Y/L/N. But I am concerned about Mr. Wood. He seems more concerned about Quidditch than his grades." "But I don't need good grades to get recruited for Quidditch." Oliver butt in, to which I rolled my eyes and scoffed. "But you need good grades to graduate Mr.Wood," Professor Flitwick turned to me, "Miss Y/L/N, could you be his study partner?" Professor Flitwick almost pleaded with me, but I didn't have the heart to turn down one of my favourite professors. I let out a long sigh, "I suppose." I replied as I crossed my arms across my chest and moved my weight onto my right leg and hip. Professor Flitwick beamed with delight, "Brilliant! 20 points to Slytherin. Now you two have a good rest of your day." He said as he started to clean up his classroom, Oliver and I made our way out of the classroom and toward the dining hall. Oliver opened his mouth but I responded quicker, "No, you are not getting any Quidditch secrets. Meet me in the library tonight at 7 or I will find you and drag you there myself." "Is that a threat or a promise?" He asked with a smirk. "Wipe that fucking smirk off your face before I decide to hex you instead." The smirk dropped off his face and we entered the dining hall and went our separate ways as I rolled my eyes, eager to let my friends in on the trauma of Oliver Wood I will endure for the foreseeable future.

Our third year came up a lot faster than expected, but I was still excited. I entered Platform 9 3/4 with my parents, and immediately we were met with stares and whispers. We quickly said our goodbyes, but not before my father handed me a broom. As he handed me the broom, he hugged my mother closer and smiles grew on their faces when they saw the excitement in my eyes. "A Transylvanian Barb! They're brand new! But why?" I asked, confused about the gift, but still excited nonetheless. "Our beautiful girl deserves only the best. Keep breaking records out there darling." My mother said before they pulled me in for one last hug and kiss before I boarded the train. I made my way to the back where the Slytherins were, but I couldn't help but notice all the stares and whispers now directed toward me. Directed solely toward me. I just hurried to the Slytherin car and I saw all my teammates waiting for me. We were all so excited for the new year because a new year meant new Quidditch plays. But a new term also meant that soon enough, you were Olivers study partner. It wasn't the ideal situation, but if it meant that the only person close to your skill was still on the pitch, and I was willing to make sure I had a worthy opponent. Soon enough, Oliver was asking for help in all our classes. I didn't mind, I got to keep him accountable, but it took up a lot more of my time. Eventually, it was nearing the time final game of the year. Gryffindor against Slytherin. Both of our teams were practicing as much as we could. I almost had no time to breathe, but this would all be over soon and everything would be a lot better and easier. I found myself in divination class, seated next to Marcus and Terence at our table. We were learning tessomancy, the divination form that requires you to read tea leaves. This class was meant to focus on soulmates and finding their initials in our leaves. Terence was struggling to figure his out, while Marcus just smirked at me. "It's your initial, looks like you really are my soulmate babe." Marcus said with a smirk. I shot him a disgusted look, "Mine is an 'M' BUT before you say anything it's the initial of the persons last name you git." I looked down at my cup and realised my mistake, my cup was upside down. That 'M', is actually a 'W'. I wasn't going to admit this to them though. "Fuck," I sighed, "Must be Malfoy." I played off how I really felt and what everything really meant. There were plenty of people in this school with last names beginning with 'W', but I didn't want to press it to much longer. I ended up helping the rest of the Slytherins and Trewlaney gave me 15 points for Slytherin. I immediately went to my usual spot in the library and just hoped and prayed to Merlin everything would go back to normal. Oliver arrived moments later and took his usual seat. We had two essays to write so we just created small talk every now and again to fill the air. I finished before Oliver, I did some studying before he finished. I proof read his essay, it was actually really good. "Oliver, this is great! I told you that if you a little more effort in you would be great! You might not need me much longer." I said with a playful chuckle. "I would hate to end these study sessions, working with you is actually quite fun and you help me keep on track. Who knew the princess of Slytherin had it all? Looks, smarts, and excellent quidditch skills." Oliver said with a smirk, which made me blush. "Alright pretty boy, I love my ego being stroked, but both of us have practice tonight. Mine is soon, yours is later. I'll see you tomorrow on the pitch Wood. Can't wait to kick your ass." I said as I sent a wink his way and walked away after all my stuff was packed away. I made my way down to the pitch where I got ready and headed over to Duncan to discuss what plays we need to make and so on. By the end of practice, we had a solid plan in place for the game against Gryffindor. We were all radiating positivity with how well practice went for us. We all changed but as soon as we left the locker room, Gryffindor was making their way onto the pitch. Marcus went right up to them and I followed, not wanting anything serious to happen. Marcus was about to say something but I grabbed his arm and pulled him away, "Marcus if you lay even a finger on them before the game tomorrow I will make sure you don't play and you're a sub next year. Step away from them or I will force you to back away." "Awe you're hot when you're angry. How about this, I don't do anything to these pussy's and when we win we celebrate in my dorm and you sleep with me?" Marcus asked in a condescending tone as we walked away. I stopped and immediately started to pretend to gag at the words that just came out of his mouth, "I would much rather sleep with Wood over there ten times over before I even thought about touching you." I practically yelled. All eyes were on us. "What does Wood have that I don't clearly I'm packing a lot more than him." He said as his right hand moved to touch his member through his pants and his left hand trailed around my waist and squeezed my right butt cheek. That was all I needed to immediately cock my arm back and land a hard punch directly on his nose, which was now just gushing blood down his body. Marcus stumbled back and scrambled to his feet. Terence started to bring him off the pitch. I took my wand out and pointed it at him. I started to make my way towards him when Duncan and a few other of my teammates held me back with all their strength. "I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU FLINT. I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU THE NEXT CHANCE I GET. I SWEAR TO MERLIN. YOU WILL WISH YOU NEVER EXISTED YOU FILTHY PIECE OF SHIT EXCUSE FOR A WIZARD!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, I had tears streaming down my face at this point. Both from the experience and the pain my throat was in. Miles ran to get a professor as Duncan hugged me and apologised to the Gryffindor team. Duncan held onto me as we made our way to meet with Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagall. I made eye contact with Oliver as I passed by and he looked broken just from witnessing the exchange. Duncan and I met with the Headmaster and our head of house in his office and explained everything that happened. It wasn't a long meeting but it wasn't a short meeting either. Duncan agreed with Snape and Dumbledore that Flint was going to be out for the last game of the year and sub for most of next year. We made our way to dinner and all eyes were on me, but I just ignored it and just put on my RBF and plotted revenge (and how I could possibly tell my parents). It was the day of the biggest game of the year to us. I got to the locker room extra early to clear my mind and go through last minute plays to make sure they were as clean and thought out as possible. Duncan followed not too long after me and I informed him of some errors I found and we worked through them. Once the rest of the team was in the locker room and changed we went over the game plan. After Duncan's speech, we entered the pitch to some cheers but mostly boo's. We were all on the pitch when we got into our positions and went up into the sky. Before we took our actual positions, Oliver sent a wink my way. I just shook my head and shoo'd him away to the posts. The game was going great, we were leading but not by much. We needed that snitch to win. Terence was so close to catching it, Charles wasn't making it too easy though. I paid as little attention as possible toward the seekers fighting for the snitch. Fred and George Weasley were towards the left of me but pretty far behind. I had just caught the quaffle and was heading towards the goals when all of a sudden, I was hit hard in the side and I let go of the quaffle as I flew off my broom from the force of the hit. I hit the corner of the Slytherin stand and just free fell to the ground. I was out cold before I hit the ground. Terence caught the snitch, but people were concerned with my limp body lying on the ground. I woke up later that day in the hospital wing, my team was surrounding me. They told me everything that happened. Fred and George performed a Dopplebeater Defence and the bludger went straight for me. It hit me hard enough to throw me to the corner of the stands like I was a muggle rag doll and I immediately fell hundreds of feet to the ground. I had several broken ribs and many more fractures. But I was more concerned about my broom and if we had won. Duncan chuckled, "We did win, Terence caught the snitch right as you hit the stands. And your broom is fine. I grabbed it before it plummeted to the ground." We were all caught up in conversation when there was a throat clear from behind my team surrounding my bed. "Leave her alone Weasley's, she doesn't need to be hurt anymore." Duncan said, in a voice so firm yet so angry. "We came to apologise." The twins said in unison. I chimed in before Duncan could, "It's fine. You guys can go. I'll be fine." I smiled and hurried them along. "We're so sorry Y/N," Fred started. "We didn't think it would curve and get you." George chimed in. "We promise, once you're better we'll get you all the sweets you want," I cut them off, "Guys it's okay. It's a game of quidditch. I'd be naive if I didn't believe I would never get hurt. I forgave you a long time ago. But I still appreciate the care you two have." I replied with a smile as they handed me a bouquet of wild flowers. They made their way out, I placed the flowers on the bedside table. I looked up and saw Oliver. "How are you feeling?" He asked as he took the seat next to me. "Besides just a blanket of pain, I'm pretty good now that you're here." I said with a smile. There was a thick silence that enveloped both of us, eventually Oliver broke that silence. "Are we friends?" He asked. "What do you mean?" "Like, you've really grown on me in our study sessions and I want to be friends with you but.." "I have an image to uphold Wood. But we can, if that's what you want. Just, we must keep the study sessions professional. Secret friendship, for now," I said, I saw the sorrow in his eyes "It's a secret for now. Until I can figure all this out. I promise Ollie." I said as I stuck out my pinky finger, he chuckled and hooked his pinky finger with mine. Oliver came down every day to help me with homework and our usual study sessions. But once everyone left we just chatted like old pals. It was so much easier once I could actually go back to classes and roaming the castle. Every day meshed together; I went to my classes, bickered back and forth with Oliver, had study sessions, and then snuck away to have alone time with Oliver and acted like normal friends behind closed and hidden doors. I hated it, but being the "heiress of Slytherin" I had an image to uphold. Hopefully our 5th or 6th year I can just be open about this, but right now is not the time. Especially because I don't know what they'd do to Oliver. It was more for his protection, and he figured that out the more we hung out and talked. The deeper our friendship grew, the more we learned about each other... and the more I started to feel something more for him. The end of the year came so fast, yet went by so slow. Saying goodbye to everyone hurt when the one person I didn't want to leave I couldn't even say goodbye to. No matter how bad I felt, Oliver and I still wrote to each other practically every day. Each new letter was a countdown to the first of September, a countdown to seeing my best friend. But with each letter also came stronger and stronger feelings I had never felt before. Was this love? Was this what love felt like? What is this feeling?

The first of September has come yet again, welcoming me to my fourth year at Hogwarts, but this time my family and I were accompanied by the Malfoy's. Mum and dad have always wanted me to marry Draco, keep the pureblood line going. I didn't hate Draco, he was very annoying for an 11 year old, but I didn't hate him. Neither of our families believed in arranged marriages, but they definitely mentioned a married between Draco and I often. Draco was definitely infatuated with me. Trying his best to flirt with me and to keep my attention on him. At the train, I hugged my parents goodbye and hugged Narcissa and shook Lucius' hand. Draco and I boarded the train together, "Now, I sit with all of the older years and first years aren't allowed, but after tonight you can always find me when you need me." I said as I sent Draco a smile. Draco took my hand and kissed it and went on his merry way to find someone to befriend. My eyes drifted from Draco to Oliver, who seemingly was watching the whole time. He shot a smile my way, causing me to blush. I walked passed him to the Slytherin cart and he slipped a piece of parchment into my hand. I kept walking and as I entered I sat in my usual seat, but only Terence and Miles were in their seats. I read the note, "I really missed you, more than ever. Meet me on the pitch at 8?" I let out a smile as I slyly slid the note into my right pocket. We continued our conversations of our summer holidays as more of our peers came through and sat down. I announced that I was the quidditch captain now that Duncan has graduated. We all enjoyed our time together once again, after all, it was just another year and another House Cup we were determined to win. It came to the sorting ceremony and I only was anticipating Draco and his sorting. He was sorted into Slytherin faster than I was, but he was proud and made his way over to me and kissed my cheek before sitting right next to me. My teammates just looked over at me, and then Draco, and looked more confused than when a professor calls on them and they're not paying attention. Draco happily chimed in, "I'm going to marry her. Join the Malfoy and Y/L/N pureblood names and have the greatest bond to ever occur in the wizarding world." He had a smile beaming from ear to ear. They all shifted their gazes onto me, questioning if it was real or in his imagination. "I'll explain later, don't worry guys." I said to calm them down, which it only helped slightly. The upperclassmen made their way to their perspective common rooms. I told my teammates how it wasn't fully a thing, arranged at least. It was encouraged but not forced, and to just let Draco believe whatever he wants to believe. They all finally understood and proceeded to start a whole new conversation. It was almost 8 and I decided to sneak away from my friends and down to the pitch. If someone finds me on my way there then I can just say I need to cleat my mind or something like that. I can always get myself out of trouble. As soon as I walked by the Gryffindor locker room, I heard a faint whisper and made my way to see inside. As soon as I cracked the door, an arm reached out and grabbed my forearm and yanked me inside. I practically fell onto whomever just pulled me in. I looked up and saw Olivers infamous smile and pulled him in for a tight hug. The hug seemed to go on forever, but eventually we let go, but not fully, his arms were still wrapped around my waist and my arms were wrapped around his neck. "Oh how I've missed you." He said with a smirk, but there was definitely something hiding behind it. I was studying his face like it was a written exam. And caught on and he guided me to the benches right behind us. "Obviously I wanted to say hi, but that's not the only thing I wanted to talk to you about," Oliver started as he sat beside me, "I've been having this thought and this feeling for a while now," I was confused, and the furrowed brows and now titled head made him keep going. "I know you like sleeping around and fucking whenever you can... NOT that it's a bad thing because I like that too. But... B-but I want to know what it's like to like, sleep with one person. And I just hope you've been feeling this sexual tension too, Y/N. Would you like, to like, maybe be friends with benefits?" He asked and he started to blush as he looked away. I knew it was too good to be true, he didn't feel the same way I think I feel about him. But if this was the closest to a relationship I could have with him, I was going to seize the moment. "I'm glad you felt the tension too, I was starting to grow exhausted just hiding it," I said as I inched a little closer to him as I unbuttoned the top buttons of my white blouse, "I was getting tired of hopping from dick to dick. Although the variety was nice, getting railed by the same cock over and over sounds so much better to me." I got even closer to him, I moved his hands to my bare thighs and my hands tugged at his shirt. Oliver crashed his lips into mine, the rough intensity of the kiss threw me off guard but I enjoyed every moment of it. I quickly deepened the kiss, feeling myself grow wetter and wetter as Oliver finished unbuttoning my blouse. I unhooked my black bra and he took off his turtleneck and we threw our articles of clothes onto the ground, just letting them land wherever they pleased. I took one look at his body and my mouth dropped. Toned but not overly defined, a perfect middle ground. Oliver took full advantage of the moment and placed his hands roughly on my bare sides, sending sparks throughout my body, and he pulled my into him and crashed his lips onto my bare neck as he sucked and bit every inch of my neck and collarbone. Oliver was still in a sitting position while I was standing over him, one leg on each side of the bench. As Oliver found my sweet spot, he started to pull my skirt down to my knees and I took it off and threw it wherever it decided to land. He started to leave hickies all over my upper body he kissed his way down to my breasts. He took my left breast into his mouth and sucked and kissed every inch of it. His right and trailed from my side down to my warm and wet pussy. He didn't even hesitate to move my panties out of the way and rubbed the folds of my dripping wet pussy. That feeling all on its own made me whimper and melt into him more than I was. His mouth moved to my right breast and give it the same attention my left breast received earlier. His left hand was free and moved to unbutton his pants and pull out his pulsating cock. As soon as I felt his cock touch my thigh, I positioned myself over his member. "I've waited all summer for this." He said right before he took his cock and rubbed the tip up and down my soaking wet folds. He stopped at my entrance but before he could say anything I lowered myself onto him, feeling his cock fill up all the empty space inside of me. No one has ever filled me so perfectly. I crashed my lips onto his as I rode his cock up and down and making sure he understands what he's getting. "If I didn't want this, I wouldn't be this wet for you... pretty boy." As those words left my mouth, Oliver held me close to him, picked me up and laid me down on the bench. He would alternate his thrusts between fast and slow, seemingly trying to pace himself so he can savour this moment. I felt my core start to contract and tighten and my pussy became more and more sensitive. In between my increasingly shallow breaths, I noticed that I was edging closer and closer to my climax. "Ol-Ol-Oliver," My breaths were becoming more and more shallow, "I-I'm g-g-g-getting cl-lose." Oliver was letting out low grunts of pleasure as he gripped my hips tighter than before, but with the words that seemingly dripped out of my mouth, Oliver thrusted harder and faster than he had previously in our little rendezvous. With each new thrust, a new grunt or groan came out of Olivers mouth, I could feel his cock twitch inside me and I knew he was ready to cum. I reluctantly brought my right hand down to my clit and started to stimulate myself while he thrusted into me. I started to feel myself become undone in Olivers grasp, my head was thrown back and my back arched as I let out a final pleasure filled moan. Oliver watched in awe and pleasure as I came undone on his cock. Once my high finished, I pushed Oliver back and got onto my knees in front of him. I took his hard cock into my hand started to pump before I placed my lips onto the tip of his dick. I pumped his shaft as I played with the tip of his cock with my tongue. I felt his cock twitch in my hand one final time before he let his cum release into my mouth. He was a mess of sweat and heavy breathing, I swallowed his seed as he sat on the bench we were just having our most amazing high on. I started to gather my clothes and get dressed, as I was putting my bra on I said, "That was-" I was cut off my Oliver, "Amazing." "That was amazing," He said as he slapped my ass, "I would love to do this again." He pulled me closer as he still hungrily looked me up and down. We both finished getting dressed but then he grabbed my hand and sat me down on the bench again, "We should probably figure out a game plan for this, like rules for us being friends with benefits." I nodded my head in agreement. "Alright, chime in any time you have something to say," I nodded at his statement and he continued, "Consent is the most important thing of all, we are still friends and I trust that both of us will let the other know if sex isn't in the cards for the night. We are friends above all. Secondly, we should probably stop when one of us gets into a relationship. Lastly, no catching feelings." He finished with a chuckle, but my face sort of flushed but I tried to keep my composure. "Couldn't agree more." I said behind a fake smile as I stuck my hand out for him to shake, and he returned the favour. I snuck out of the Gryffindor locker room and went into my own, grabbing my broom and waiting to see Oliver walk up to the castle. I went onto the pitch and just flew around, trying to sort through my own thoughts. I realised it was close to curfew and so I landed, but my broom back in its spot and headed back up to the castle. My team was waiting up for me, scared that something had happened to me but I assured them I was just at the pitch starting to get a game plan going and clearing my mind. As the boys trickled out of the common room, the only ones left were Terence and I but we had sat in silence for some time and I was just staring into the fire. "Is everything okay Y/N?" He asked, which slightly startled me enough to look him in the eyes. "Of course I am T, I just...have a lot on my mind." I said with a bit of a forced smile. He wasn't quite sure if he was buying it but then he said, "Okay, but I care a lot about you and I want you to know you can always talk to me." He placed his hand on my thigh in reassurance, I placed my hand over his and shot him a smile before standing up and heading to our dorm rooms. Maybe Terence could help take my mind off of Oliver only wanting to fuck me. And that's what started to happen. Several times a week, Oliver and I would meet up and either just have a grand ol' time or just to fuck but during the day, I was growing closer and closer to Terence. But Oliver still definitely had my heart, in more ways than one. Nothing I could do would make me feel differently. Oliver and I were both captains, which made fuck sessions and wagers even better than before. Slytherin won the first game of the year, so Oliver had to eat me out, and honestly he might've loved it more than I did. When Gryffindor won their first game, I gave him a blowjob and really whatever he wanted. The Quidditch house cup was quickly approaching and both of us were starting to have stress sex several times a week. He was my release of this stress and I was his. The day before the last game against Slytherin and Gryffindor, Oliver and I had just finished working on our DADA essays and I was cleaning up when Oliver just looked at me and said "Oh, I have a girlfriend now. So, no more funny business." He said with a smirk and a chuckle as he collected his things and went on his way. My heart sank to my feet as tears welled up in my eyes, but I just wiped whatever there was away and I marched my way down to the pitch to try to take my mind off of everything going on around me. I changed into my uniform and sat down thinking and rethinking plays as my leg bobbed up and down with stress. I had notes scribbled everywhere and I was struggling to keep my head on my shoulders. Terence, Miles, and Adrien walked in expecting them to be the first but were shocked to see me but even more shocked to see the chaos surrounding me. Terence asked the other two boys to give them a moment and he sat next to me and rubbed my back, trying to soothe me. "What's going on Y/N?" "A guy I thought really liked me doesn't and he has a girlfriend. We were doing a friends with benefits thing but I hoped it would turn into more." I replied and he pulled me closer. "Well clearly he's an absolute git for leaving you for someone else, even if all you two did was fuck. You deserve so much more than whoever that asshole is." "You're right, I deserve so much better than him. I shouldn't have let it go on this long." "I know this is quick, but we have been hanging out a lot more these past few months and I was wondering if you would be my girlfriend? No pressure, but the hogsmeade dates made me feel a type of way and I hope you feel the same." I smiled and cupped his face in my hands and kissed him, "I would love to. Thank you for showing me I deserve better." We both smiled and the team joined us in the locker room as I reworked plays with my newly cleared mind, well, not fully cleared. Practice went really well and I'm very pleased with what we have prepared for tomorrow. We came down from the sky and Gryffindor was awaiting us in the pitch. "Trying to calculate how much you're going to lose Gryffin-snore?" Adrien shot at them, unprovoked but no care in the world. "Save it for the game boys. See you on the pitch tomorrow, Wood." I said in a dark tone as I shoved passed him as Terrence and I interlocked fingers as we walked into the locker room. It was officially game day and the dining hall was buzzing with wagers and thoughts for the day. Terence and I walked into the dining hall hand in hand and I looked over at Oliver who was staring straight at me. I looked away as we made our way to the table where the rest of our team was sitting. We ate a hearty breakfast and headed to the pitch. Once we were in the locker room and all changed we went over the plays we needed and I finished with a speech, "[...] I know I never say this, so believe me I need you all to listen and take this to heart, play dirty. I will be giving commands but I trust you all know how to play dirty since most of you have been playing that way all year against my wishes... Yes Pucey, I'm talking to you. But you all better hope that if you get a foul on purpose, you better hope Merlin finds you before I even start to hunt you down. Go out and kick some Gryffindor ass." We all exited the room and made our way onto the pitch. Terence and I exchanged a quick peck right in front of Oliver right before we all took position on the pitch. Madam Hooch released the balls and I immediately got the Quaffle and headed toward the goal posts. Angelina and Katie from Gryffindor got on both sides of me but before they could successfully perform a Body Blow on me, I picked up speed and drifted in front of the goals as I threw the Quaffle in and scored. "Forty-three seconds and the first goal goes to Slytherin! The goal was made by Y/N Y/L/N and made a new school record for fast goal made in a match!" Lee Jordan announced. The game went on for ages but I was on fire. I was scoring and checking like no tomorrow, to say I was determined was an understatement. I was fighting for that win, I wanted to see Olivers face lose first hand. And almost as quick as the game started, Terence caught the snitch and Slytherin won! I briefly looked over at Oliver who looked heartbroken, but in more ways than one. I was broken from my chance when Terence came up and pulled me in for a passionate kiss. "And there is it folks, Slytherin's seeker Terence Higgs caught the snitch which landed Slytherin the win of the inter-house Cup! Oh, and by the looks of it he also scored the winning kiss with Slytherin's Captain, Y/N Y/L/N! Y/N won the game with brilliant plays and won Terence's heart!" Lee Jordan said before he said his usual Quidditch game closing announcements. The night was buzzing with drinks and games and cheer in the usually gloomy Slytherin common room. A few weeks passed and Oliver and I were studying for our History of Magic exam when he suddenly stopped and looked at me. "Oliver, are you okay?" He kept staring, I snapped my fingers a few times in front of his face which seemed to take him out of his trance. "Are you serious?" He asked sternly. "About what?" "Dating Terrence." "Well, yeah. That's why we hang out all the time. He treats me like I matter. Anywho, we shouldn't be discussing this because you are also in a relationship. Now keep studying so you don't fail." I left that night feeling uneasy but acted like everything was normal. The end of the year approached fast, but Terrence and I agreed that we just weren't meant for each other romantically and so we broke it off and remained friends. Finals were coming up and so Oliver and I were cramming like we had for countless exams prior. We were in the library very late each night, and this night was no different but something about the atmosphere was very different. "How are you and Terrence?" Oliver asked. "Oh, we broke up a while ago." I replied, keeping my head on my study guide. Olivers head shot up and he looked at me, "What? Why?" "Well," I started as I looked up, "Since you want to be nosy, we just were better off as friends. Simple really, nothing too extreme or anything. How are you and your girl?" "We actually broke up yesterday." "Oh I'm so sorry to hear that. Are you okay?" He pondered that question for a bit, before finally saying something that caught me off guard, "Yeah, but I miss our old nights together." He was waiting for my reaction, hell even I was waiting for my reaction. I missed them too but I didn't want to go through all those feelings all over again. "I miss them too Ollie, but I don't want we used to have. If I'm being honest," I looked around to make sure no one was still in the library, "I caught feelings for you and being friends with benefits hurt me and really messed me up emotionally. I can't put myself through that again." Olivers reaction went from shock, to confusion, to relief. I watched the gears in his mind turn every step of the way for him to process the information I just gave him. "Well that's a relief, I caught feelings for you as well." He said with his signature smirk. My brows furrowed, "Then why did you date another girl?" "To try to get you and your body out of my mind, but the Slytherin heiress has her way with men and I never forgot our endeavors and I just kept missing them. I didn't think you felt the same, so I suppressed my own feelings. I'm sorry, I should've said something sooner." There was an awkward silence between us for a few moments, before Oliver spoke up, "Is that why you destroyed us in the inter-house Cup?" I started to blush and nodded my head yes. His eyes widened and a smile formed on his face, "I hate to admit it but it was bloody brilliant. You're bloody brilliant...on and off the pitch... Can you be my girlfriend?" I blushed and just smiled at him, "Of course. But it's still a secret." The year finished and Oliver and I had successfully kept our relationship under the radar. I hated it but I had a plan, I think.

Fifth year rolled around and started off great. Nothing too exciting happend, except whenever Oliver and I were alone it was more cute and no sex. We mutually agreed to wait. A couple days before the inter-house cup, we snuck into an empty classroom and just talked and chilled together since tomorrow we were both going to be super busy. I was sat atop a desk and Oliver was standing in front of me and holding my hands. Oliver and I leaned in for a kiss when suddenly we heard the door open and a gasp fill the empty room. Both of us spun our head in the direction of the sound, and in the doorway was Lee Jordan. Lee immediately left but that little thing just knocked the wind out of you. "Fuck." I muttered under my breath, "Alright. Hopefully he doesn't go around blabbing about what he saw." "And if he does?" My eyes darted around the room in a moment of pondering, "If he does, then we'll have to make it official in front of everyone." "Is that okay for you?" "We deserve to be open about our relationship. I just need a day or two to get all my ducks in a row. You deserve to be in a public relationship." Oliver smiled at that statement and pulled me into a kiss. We both left the room and headed to our prospective common rooms. The next day started off with an early practice. Lee hadn't spilt the beans about what he saw, yet. I was a bit more nervous than ever before but I still led the team like tomorrow was the last day of their lives. We all left practice happily but I was a bit behind, cleaning the room and pondering my thoughts. I walked into the dining hall for dinner and all eyes were on me and whispers immediately started. I just strutted to my usual seat and just dug in. My teammates opened their mouths and I immediately shot back, "If sone of you says ONE THING I will make sure you don't play tomorrow. I finished eating and went straight to my dorm and fell asleep. I wanted nothing more than for things to be normal again. I woke up bright and early and headed to the pitch. I knew Olivers plays so well, so I was busying myself with coming up with new plays and how to implement them. Eventually the rest of my team joined me and we all got ready. I gave one of the best speeches of my career, but before I could step away from being the centre of attention Marcus asked, "Are you and Woods really dating?" I took a deep breath in, "Yes, yes we are. Now go on the pitch because I never want to hear another word about this. Got it?" We all entered the pitch a few minutes before Gryffindor did, one they came out I immediately looked for Oliver. We made our way over to each other and we looked into each others eyes. "I love you, pretty boy." "I love you too, princess." Oliver threw his broom onto the ground and grabbed my waist and pulled me into a deep and passionate kiss as the crowd roared behind us.

#oliver wood #oliver wood imagine #oliver wood preference #oliver wood would include #oliver wood smut #Harry Potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter smut #smut #imagine #preference #would include #requested #requested imagine #requested smut #wattpad #show-choir-gal

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i-dont-want-your-hysteria · 3 years

Text

A Certain Heartache (Joe x Reader)

(this might be the supreme Joe Hoe fic. Just simping out the fucking ass. Before I had a title for this, I just referred to it as “The Simp Fic”. I would write this late at night while lonely)

Dedicated to @heaven-is-hysteria >:3

Words: 3,494

Prompt: Holland, 1985, pre-Hysteria. You’ve been working alongside the band long before the recording of the 4th album began. Studio stress is at an all time high, so you and Joe (your mutual confidant) have a long, intimate talk one evening to vent it all away. After you part ways for the night, both of you are kept awake by the gears turning in your heads.

Romantic tension ahoy!

-----

His warm, lengthy body was perfectly contoured against yours. It was such a cold night, and you were glad he was there under the covers to provide you with an extra sense of security. The drumming of his heart thumped against your ear, and the swelling of his lungs was your reminder that your pillow was capable of breathing, too. As per his duty as a pillow, he let you cling to him in any way you pleased and had not complained once; he would just tell you "if you're comfy, then so am I."

Yes, that's what Joe would've done- if he were there with you.

Instead, there you were, in the wrong bed again. The bed would only feel like the right one if you had his company.

Romantic tension didn't even begin to define what you and Joe had between yourselves. There was no doubt in sight that both of you sensed it. It was magic in the air that only appeared when you were alone; it was something truly different. Things like a brief touch to your hair, holding hands, a quick kiss on the cheek, or occasionally dozing off on each other made this magic arise. There had been times of genuine affection with Joe, just as there had been times of platonic friendship. Unfortunately, you weren't sure where the line was drawn between them.

Based on past events, neither did he.

Stress at the studio had taken a toll on both of you over the past few weeks. That night, either of you were on the verge of a total breakdown because of it. You'd spent about two hours sitting and standing, walking and talking, laughing and crying to each other. The more you thought on it, the more romantic it felt. The social intimacy you discovered felt somehow more binding than what Joe had with the rest of his band mates.

Your heart leapt against the sheets at the realization; he let himself be open and sensitive around you that night, not the others. Of all people the mighty Joe Elliott was close to during such a pivotal time in his career, he chose to have deep conversation at night with you. And there you were, lying awake at night, unable to sleep because you were thinking about him.

For fuck's sake- this is getting too serious. You weren't sure why neither you or Joe hadn't made a move quite yet. One thing was for sure; it was killing you- especially after an evening like that.

-----

Your warm, gentle body was perfectly curled over his. While he didn't want to appear nervous, Joe's heart was mercilessly thumping against your ear. You were using him as a pillow, and he was trying to be the best one he could be. Even after Joe dismissed your concern for his comfort, you'd still try to shift yourself in a way that would feel better to him.

Yes, that's what you would've done- if you were there with him.

The game of chicken you two were clearly playing was reaching a breaking point. Joe wasn't sure who would crack first, but cracks were undoubtedly forming.

Joe stared up at his ceiling. The cold night was eating away at his skin, and goosebumps came and went when they wanted. When you both left each other for the night, it felt wrong and awkward. He felt like he should've spoken up and asked if you wanted to stay with him. Just a quick "wanna stay at my place tonight?" would've sufficed.

Joe thought that might have sounded better than "can I stay at your place tonight?", but regardless, he didn't get the chance to test either of them. It's not like it mattered too much to him. After all, you were only a hallway away from each other.

That evening, your long route through conversation topics left Joe feeling changed. He couldn't put his finger on what had changed, however. He supposed it had something to do with how you normally viewed him. For inexplicable reasons, you always seemed to get along with him the best. After that night, it was apparent you preferred him over the rest of the band.

The bumps on Joe's arms rose higher under the covers.

Out of the five Leppards, you chose him. He was the singer, and should've been used to girls picking him, but you still left him flattered and flushed like a shy child. Joe felt that of all the Leppards in distress, he was the last one who needed another heartache or another sleepless night.

Yet there he was, lying awake at night, unable to sleep because he was chosen by you. Oh, bloody wonderful. When it came to you, the line between 'friend' and 'girlfriend' was getting thinner and thinner. Joe couldn't get you to leave his heart, it seemed.

Unfortunately- to him- that only meant one thing:

There was no going back.

-----

It felt incredibly late now, but hardly an hour had passed since you went to bed. With Joe occupying every corner of your mind, you almost wanted to get up and go to the end of the hall to get him. You almost wanted that so badly. His affection wasn't just something you desired at the moment; it was something you couldn't get through the night without. It was an ache deep inside you- but you couldn't place whether it was in your heart or your soul.

Thinking of him felt like a dream, and in one corner of your mind, the phrase "man of your dreams" soon became his label.

The plain old pillow you embraced wasn't doing as well of a job as a tender, 6'2", warm-blooded, long-haired Yorkshire gentleman would have. You could still feel him all around you; his presence wouldn't leave. A hallway away and nothing but silence separating you both made the sound of Joe's heart louder than anything.

You wanted him with you, plain and simple. You just needed him there in whatever way was convenient. You wanted him to hold you and softly breathe against you and tell you he was happy to be in bed with you. Hell, he didn't even need to say anything if he didn't feel like it.

In the darkness, you blinked a few times. Your head shook and you rolled away from the fantasies of your late-night conscience. Who could ever truly know what Joe wanted? Certainly not you. He had his thoughts, and you had yours.

That night felt like the night where if a move could've been made, it would've been made.

It should've been made.

Wasted time, you thought. Maybe that's all tonight was; a missed opportunity, and wasted time. Just when you speculated things might have been getting down to the bone, you began to think too much, and an idea crushed you: what if you were just another hopeless maniac who wanted to get your hands on the lead singer? Anyone with an outside perspective would have most likely seen things that way.

You didn't feel like that, though. You knew what you felt.

Maybe you were just another crazed fan, and maybe Joe was just another rocker out of your league. Even if that were so, that didn't mean your feelings for him were fake.

Maybe Joe wasn't even the man of your dreams... but god, you still needed him so badly that night.

----

Joe lost track of how many times he'd tried falling asleep. Each and every time, he was interrupted by a flood of your imaginary presence. With you threatening every inch of his mind, he almost wanted to march down the hallway and take you back with him. Dare he say, he needed that. It was such an intense longing, he wanted to beat his arms against his bed and exert it all away- just to make it stop.

Unfortunately, he didn't have the energy for that right then. He felt like he was trapped in a dream he was unable to be woken from. Any second now, he hoped, he'd wake up and realize he'd made it through this dream-like temptation.

For a fast second, his conscience labeled you as "dreamy."

Joe shook away the label, rolled onto his side, and resumed his fantasy. There wasn't just a craving for your presence; there was a starvation for it.

As far as your previous interaction went, there were a million more things he thought of to add onto it. He didn't want that evening to stop- not then, not ever. He wanted more from your time together. He didn't just want vocal reassurance; he wanted physical reassurance. Joe wanted to experience every soft part of you cushioning him while he slept. He wanted to feel your hair frazzled against his skin. More than anything, he needed a tender touch from you- any tender touch from you. You were a reminder that tenderness still existed, and that tenderness still cared about him. Joe's eyes opened in the darkness, and he audibly sighed as the fantasy was broken. He didn't know if you desperately cared about him like that; he couldn't read your mind. Who could ever truly know what you wanted? Certainly not him. Just like Joe currently trapped in his own universe, you had a world of your own down the hall. These worlds felt like perfectly matching puzzle pieces when they collided- especially hours before. It would've been easy for Joe to make a move. In fact, it wouldn't have just been easy; it was probably expected from you. If there was any right time to make it move, it was that night for sure.

But Joe didn't do that. Instead, he wasted time regretting something he didn't do. Things seemed as if they were looking clearer to him. He finally reached the extent of how badly he needed you in the dead of the night, yet also felt you were getting further away. Perhaps he was overthinking it- but that sense of failure was overwhelming and true. He blew it; plain and simple. You'd definitely peaked in your friendship that night, and to Joe, that meant it was only downhill from there. He didn't want that.

He didn't need another thing to regret. He didn't need another reason to not march down the hall and somehow ask you to stay with him for the night. He didn't need another hour of heartsick insomnia.

But god, he needed you so badly that night. Maybe he needed you just a little bit more. -----

You were starting to rationalize that you weren't going to get any sleep. The best you could do was lay facing the ceiling and hope to fantasize yourself into slumber. If one thought could lead to another, perhaps it'd be pleasant enough to lull you to rest.

A few lovely fantasies rolled around in your head. First, it was Joe suddenly showing up right then and there, sweeping you off your feet, and kissing you deeply. Second, it was you going over to him and pulling him down onto your lips.

That aspect of your midnight brain struck you as strange. You'd never thought too much about kissing Joe before. Although thoughts about kissing were expected from romantic tension, it wasn't something you actively desired. It wasn't as if you normally thought about Joe's lips- how soft they might be, how gentle he might use them, how not gentle he might use them, or how he might make them dance on other parts of your body.

It wasn't like thinking about those things kept you up at night.

After that, the third fantasy that came your way was waiting until morning to try and rekindle the spark you and Joe created not long ago. Maybe approaching him and trying that would go over well.

Instantly upon registering the thought, you draped your forearm over your eyes with a scoff.

No, that would horribly awkward. The fourth fantasy, you decided, was a more reasonable course of action. What you would do was wait.

You'd wait however long you needed and let things run their course. While it was painful to think of, you concluded that maybe not touching anything would make things better.

While it was rational, that option sounded the least realistic.

Or, maybe, I should just sleep on it. A loud sigh floated from your mouth at the idea. You wanted to be put out of your misery in order to get away from this certain heartache. While you were half-decent at handling your problems, you weren't a miracle worker.

-----

Joe was staring at his door now. He had accepted that he wouldn't be getting any sleep. The best he could do was lay facing the door and hope he'd come up with a course of action to end his suffering and heartache.

His mind wasn't working like yours. There weren't multiple fantasies for him to dwell upon in order to lull him to sleep. There weren't several options floating around in his head. He was stuck, he was antsy, and he was impulsive. Into his mind came only one option, and, unfortunately, it stuck to him. To his disbelief, it was a realistic course of action.

Joe smushed his face into his pillow, sighing loudly. Being tired didn't just make you fantasize more, and he knew it.

Being tired also made you completely, undoubtedly, one-hundred-percent honest. Paired with his impulsive conscience, he had a perfect recipe for humiliation. The worst part of it: he didn't care. Well, she's probably just as tired as I am, he reasoned with his twilight mind, Would it really be that big of a problem? -----

Knock, knock. knock. Naturally, your brain whispered Joe's name the instant you heard a feeble noise in the hallway. Your heart instinctively leapt, but just as quickly, your mind shot down the possibility of him crashing through your door and declaring his intense mutual longing. Perhaps you were truly exhausted now, and had hallucinated the noise to begin with.

Your arm was still over your eyes when there came proper knocks at the door. A startled gasp flew from your mouth. In a wink, you were sitting on the side of your bed and staring intently into the blackness.

"Y/n?" Joe's voice gently seeped through the door. Your eyes lit up, and your heart began to tremble within you. Turns out this isn't a fantasy after all. A hand reached over and turned on the lamp, and you'd never thrown on your robe so fast in your life. Joe was there- he was there for real. "Coming," you cooed, not even thinking of fixing your appearance. None of that mattered; what mattered was getting to the door.

You carefully twisted the doorknob and pulled the door open. To your continuing surprise, your tender, 6'2", long-haired, warm-blooded Yorkshire gentleman was standing there. He was in his own robe- his rather short Union Jack robe, if that- and hadn't bothered to fix his appearance in any way at all either. As if you were looking in a mirror, you noticed how tired he seemed all over.

"Joe?" you made your surprise apparent, "What's wrong?"

Honesty, Joe said to himself, Honesty is what's wrong. "I can't sleep," he spoke with such sincerity.

You didn't hesitate to admit, "Me neither. What's got you up?"

Joe did hesitate at first.

"Oh, just- you... and everything we talked about. The gears are turning and I'm- so stressed."

He ran his fingers through his messy hair and faltered before tagging on, "I just wanted to ask you..."

You made your attentiveness clearer. You thought to pinch yourself in order to make sure you were conscious. What could Joe possibly say after seeking out your presence in the middle of the night, only to admit he couldn't stop thinking about you? Your fantasy, perhaps, may have been becoming concrete. If that was the case, you wanted to fulfill some of it yourself. "Would you wanna stay the night?" you both asked in sync with each other.

Each of you were taken aback, and giggled to yourselves as you avoided the other's eyes.

"We think too much alike, you know," Joe shook his head.

You stepped aside, inviting Joe into your apartment.

"I know."

With a twist of the lock, you felt no need for your silly fantasies anymore. You wiped away your stupid grin, and joined Joe on the mattress where he sat.

"I hope I didn't wake you," Joe apologized, "Even if you were having trouble sleeping. It's just- how was I supposed to sleep after an emotional roller-coaster like tonight?"

You sensed his emotional stress, and reached out to sloppily fix his hair from his face. His eyes bashfully darted away from you and looked down at the bed. "I know, I know. That's exactly why I couldn't sleep, either. My mind's all shook up; rattled around."

Your hand ruffled his hair, unable to keep yourself from showing him affection.

He silently laughed while masking the shiver your touch sent through his body.

Joe rubbed one of his legs and went on, "I can't stop thinking about past versions of ourselves. I feel like we could've prevented this whole fucking mess somehow. I feel... I don't know, guilty? And it's keepin' me up..."

While you were paying attention to what he said, you were paying more attention to his body language. Joe was being shy. Everything about him was oozing shyness. It was so out of character for him, even if he were half asleep. He was fidgety and avoiding eye contact with you. Even his choice of words sounded cautious. Not only that, but as soon as you seated yourself by him, there was a definite blush on his cheeks.

It was as if something had changed, but you don't know what. He almost looked like he was trying to be small. Joe's fingers traced shapes on your blanket, "I know things were never meant to be easy, but now things are getting impossible, you know? Like we had one shot and-"

His hand accidentally brushed against yours. The sound of your hearts dropping together was as audible as a gunshot. If he had suddenly taken your hand, it would've been less intimate than such a subtle gesture.

To cover up his accidental action, Joe did take your hand instead.

"-and it's like we blew it."

You could feel his quick pulse through your hand. There was no hiding he was nervous, now.

You other hand was placed on top of his. With a sympathetic smile, you looked at his blushing face and told him, "You didn't blow it, Joe. We're all in the same boat, and it's okay to have doubts. You guys are gonna have your second chance and I know it." He rolled his eyes in thought, still avoiding your look, "Maybe we're not good enough for a second chance..."

His hand was taken away shyly. Joe finally looked at you, but dashed his eyes away instantly.

"Oh, honey..."

Your hand sought him again, reaching out and cupping his cheek so he would look at you. Instead of speaking further, you leaned in and wearily planted a tired kiss on the opposite side of his face. "...you know you're worth it." your voice softly hit the side of his face. Before you could think of a way to pull back and move on with the conversation, Joe went completely rigid. Without thinking, you froze, too.

The magic was back- you both knew it. This was what you needed to get through the night.

You held yourself there at his jaw for a second or two, then carefully drug your lips over the side of his face, only stopping when they met his own. There was no other fitting action at that point; no other appropriate thing to do besides giving him a real kiss. Joe turned his head slowly, closing his eyes and complying with the sealed embrace. It seemed the thought of his lips were keeping you up at night after all. You both kept your eyes shut when the kiss ended. The dreamy sensation had captured you both; magic, indeed.

"Seems to me like we got a second chance tonight..." you whispered close to his mouth when your eyes fluttered open. Joe was now blushing even more strongly than just a moment ago.

He exhaled in surprise. The unexpected kiss had taken his words (and his breath) away. "Oh thank god, Y/n... I've been waiting so..." instead of saying something, he leaned in again to softly press his lips back against yours.

There was no more starvation, no more heartache, and no more fantasies. The only fantasy to be found was the present moment; the man of your dreams, kissing you gently, just as you had dreamed of.

Suddenly, you both felt you'd found the right bed at last.

#happy soft saturday everyone UwU #def leppard #def leppard fanfic #def leppard fanfiction #joe elliott #joe elliott x reader #def leppard x reader #joe elliott fanfic #joe elliott fanfiction #original content #fanfic #fanfiction #this doesn't have a song it's based off of #if you wanna get specific it's loosely inspired by HYENSSB #i don't even remember how i started writing this or what made me do it #but I do know I wrote it within a week or something #i finished it a WHILE ago but it never felt done

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ieattaperecorders · 3 years

Text

Something's Different About You Lately - Epilogue: Borrowed Time

Life goes on, impossibly.

Read on Ao3

---

Martin shifted the bag of groceries in his arms as he climbed the stairs, still feeling a bit nervous.

The dinner had been Jon's idea – his O&M instructor was covering kitchen skills, and he'd thought it would be fun for the two of them to try making something together. The recipe had sounded a little elaborate to Martin, who'd protested that he didn't cook much, but Jon promised that it wasn't beyond them. He added that Martin was ‘perfectly capable' in the kitchen anyway, and said it with such prim, knowing confidence that Martin hadn't even bothered to ask. Before he knew it, he was writing down a list of ingredients to bring over.

He supposed that was just going to keep happening, Jon telling him things about himself. It was . . . strange. Sometimes it was endearing, sometimes just annoying. Occasionally it made him feel sentimental and a little bit sad in a way he couldn't put his finger on.

The door to the flat opened after a moment of knocking, and he smiled as Jon appeared.

"Hi Jon, it's Martin," he said. He'd read online it was polite to say your name, to not assume the other person will recognize your voice. "I've got the groceries."

"I know it's you, Martin." His tone was light and a little condescending, and Martin felt heat rise to his ears. "Come on inside. You know where the kitchen is."

Martin slipped past him and set down the bag, pulling things out and arranging them on the counter as Jon followed him to the kitchen.

"The store was out of chili paste," he mentioned.

Jon shrugged. "We'll improvise, then."

"If you say so."

Jon began taking out cookware, placing things down wherever he found counter space. "Do anything interesting today?" he asked, over the clatter of pans.

"Not especially. Filled out a few applications, then took a walk," he said. "Met a really friendly dog in the park."

"Flattered that you tore yourself away to come here."

"Wasn't by choice, her owner wouldn't let me keep her."

"How unreasonable."

It was weird, not having to worry so much about money. Not that Martin was complaining of course, but there was still a voice in his head telling him he was being too slow and selective in his job search, that it was lazy of him. And he felt anxious dipping into the new funds too much.

He'd just about gone into conniptions when Sasha told him what she'd done while she'd been fiddling with Elias's computer. Embezzlement might not have been an escalation when they were already committing arson, but they could still get caught, and wouldn't a financial windfall point a lot of suspicion towards them? But she kept assuring him that it was untraceable, some hidden fund Elias had, ready to be drawn on by anyone with the account information. The running theory was that he'd been keeping it for his next identity, which . . . yeah, the less Martin thought about that, the better.

Fear of discovery aside, he couldn't deny it was nice having a buffer like this. There was space he'd never had before to think about where he wanted to be, what he wanted to do with himself. And with the bills taken care of, Jon could focus his time on recovering. At the urging of his O&M teacher (and some amount of prodding on Martin's end) he'd even started talking to a counselor every few weeks. It was ostensibly just about handling the emotions that come up with sudden, traumatic vision loss, and he doubted Jon would be discussing the more exotic traumas he'd been through. Still. It was probably good he had something like that.

They went about the business of prepping ingredients, talking idly about food, things they'd done in the past few days, updates from Tim and Sasha. Martin's initial nerves already dissolving into the steady flow of conversation. There was something comfortable, he reflected, in being around someone who was so comfortable with him.

"Would you mind--" Jon frowned, fiddling with the hob on the stove. "I've got this, I'm fairly sure. Just . . . make sure I keep the pan centered?"

"Sure."

He came to stand behind Jon, watching over his shoulder as he set the carefully oiled pan on the stove and turned on the heat. Martin was a terribly distracted spotter, his attention frequently straying from the pan to look at Jon's face, pinched slightly in concentration. There was a single bead of sesame oil on his cheek, and it made his intensely serious expression that much more charming.

Despite his concerns, Jon had the pan well handled as he heated the oil and added in the aromatics. Martin only noticed him drifting once, the flames going high on one side of the pan.

"A little left," he advised.

In a moment of impulse and bravery, Martin curved an arm around him – placing a hand on his elbow, then running it down his arm to cover Jon's hand with his own, guiding the pan carefully into place. Jon leaned back, fitting the curve of his body into Martin's and sighing deeply.

"God, I've missed this," Jon exhaled. "Just . . . cooking dinner with you. All these little domestic things."

His voice was so unselfconsciously fond. It made Martin dizzy, just how easily affection poured out of him.

In hindsight, at least part of Jon's strange, awkward behavior around Martin had been a result of him holding back, wary of letting his feelings show. He never held anything back now -- his demeanor going from nonchalant or haughty to unbelievably soft and loving at the slightest prompting. It still took Martin by surprise, inspiring so much unreserved affection in someone. It wasn't anything he'd usually associate with himself. It was strange, and lovely, and at times made him feel almost frighteningly powerful.

He leaned forward, kissing the soft skin just beside Jon's ear. Jon smiled, holding his pose for a moment before gradually returning his attention to the pan, shaking it gently to move the vegetables around. Martin kept a hand on his, now fully for the sake of touch rather than any pretense of assistance, letting Jon's movements guide them both.

"Did we cook together in that cabin a lot?" he asked.

Jon nodded. "It was one of a handful of things we could do that felt . . . well, like a date, I suppose. We couldn't really go anywhere since we were lying low. I mean, we could walk around the area, isolated as it was, but trips to the village were all short and functional. So preparing something elaborate together made an evening feel special," he smirked. "You used to get defensive, too, just like today . . . saying you didn't really cook, like you were trying to lower my expectations."

"In my defense, I never said I didn't cook, just . . . ." Not since mum left , he thought. "Not for a while."

"To be honest, we were both at a disadvantage in that kitchen," Jon continued. "There weren't a lot of modern conveniences there. The power came from a generator, and the stove was an ancient, wood-burning thing that neither of us quite knew what to do with at first. Took a lot of trial and error before we really managed."

"Sounds cozy."

"Oh yes. So cozy we almost suffocated ourselves before we figured out how to adjust the vents."

Martin smiled, listening to Jon describe the little kitchen in that place. The cabin in Scotland had supposedly been a remote safehouse the two of them laid low in, but the way Jon talked about it sometimes it might as well have been a romantic holiday retreat. He made it sound so nice that Martin once idly suggested they go see it someday. Jon had gone tense and quiet at that, had shaken his head and said softly that they had to stay far, far away from that place. That there was nothing good that happened there now.

Jon was mostly open about the things he remembered. But sometimes "open" meant he'd easily speak at length about something, and other times "open" meant he'd answer your questions with short, one-sentence explanations, volunteering nothing unless pushed. And anything about the police officers he'd apparently worked with fell solidly into the second category.

Sometimes it seemed like they might have been friends, but Jon was always adamant that no one ever try to contact them. Daisy in particular seemed hard to talk about. Martin did know about the coffin. Jon had told him in a soft, emotional voice how another Martin had stepped from his cloud of isolation to set out tape recorders calling him home, how it had been one of very few things that let Jon believe he hadn't given up on him yet. And he knew something had been different about Daisy after the coffin, some sinister force like the one that had kept them at the Institute had loosened its hold on her.

He also knew that Jon was terrified of her, that he said again and again she was too dangerous to go near. That something about her made him sad -- and, Martin suspected, guilty, though he wasn't sure why. It was a topic he'd decided not to push . . . if Jon ever wanted to talk more about it, he would in his own time.

There were other things, things closer to home for Martin that Jon had hesitated over. Once while he was recounting the events of those years he'd paused mid-sentence. Stammered that it wasn't all supernatural in nature and some of it may still happen, and was he sure he wanted to know everything? Martin imagined Jon thought he was being subtle, but it wasn't a hard guess.

He told Jon not to give him the date. It was obviously going to be within the next couple of years, there was no spitting out that apple of knowledge. But he didn't want to be able to mark it on his calendar.

It shouldn't have felt like news, that his mum was going to die soon. Shouldn't have been the uncomfortable weight in his chest that it was. She was ill, of course it was coming, it had been coming for a while, hadn't it? But maybe that was the problem. It had been ‘any day now' for such a long time, ‘any day' had stopped feeling like a reality. And he still wasn't sure what to do with this information, if it really changed anything. Should he try to get some sort of closure? How did you make the most of the time you had left with a person who refuses to see you?

Martin hadn't asked Jon how much he knew about his mum, that just wasn't a conversation he was eager to have. But the careful, hesitant way Jon talked around the subject suggested . . . something, at least. Just like how the gentle, quiet tone he got when he talked about the Lonely told Martin more than he really wanted to have explained.

There was only one thing Jon flatly refused to tell him about, and that was whatever Elias had done to him on the day of the Unknowing. When pushed, Jon had gone quiet for a while, then said he didn't remember. It had been a lie, and a bad one, and both of them knew it. But it was clear there was no point in asking for more.

"You like pizzelles, don't you?"

Jon's voice snapped Martin to the present. With a last squeeze of Martin's hand, he turned off the flame, moved away from the stove and over to the pantry.

"Um, dunno?" Martin said, pulling his thoughts back together. "Never tried them."

"Really?" Jon frowned, pausing halfway to the cabinet door. Then he shrugged. "Well, no matter. You will."

Martin rolled his eyes. Jon spoke with so much more authority than anyone deserved to hold over another person's cookie preferences, and he couldn't help feeling contrary.

"No. You stepped on a butterfly last week and set off a chain of events that forever changed my feelings on pizzelles, I hate them now."

"That's all right," Jon said, popping open the plastic package and arranging the cookies on a plate. "If you don't want these, there's also canned peaches for dessert."

"Oh, don't you dare --"

Jon snickered, picking out a broken piece of one of the large, thin cookies and holding it out, just short of passing it into Martin's mouth. With an annoyed grunt, Martin leaned forward, taking a bite.

Damn it. It was really, really good.

---

Jon sank into the couch, pleasantly full and a little bit tired. He leaned back and listened to the sound of running water coming from the next room.

Martin had insisted on doing the dishes, on the basis that Jon had done "all the real work" of cooking. He wasn't sure that was true, but didn't argue. Just asked that he leave everything in the drainboard when he was finished so Jon could put it away later. He knew he'd be frustrated for hours if the dishes weren't where he expected them to be.

There were so many frustrations in his life now. His O&M instructor had promised he'd learn new ways to move through the world, that in time the frustrations would be fewer and fewer, and he'd find himself capable of nearly everything he'd done before the loss of his sight. Jon believed her, but it didn't make the prospect of getting there any less daunting. Nor did it make the learning process any easier.

The worst were the things his instructor would never understand, that no resource or guidebook would mention. The dread that gripped him when he became disoriented and found a door where he wasn't expecting one. The phantom tickles on his body that prompted him to pat himself down for spiders again and again.

Still. He was alive. The others were freed from the institute, and he was there with them, to struggle and to mourn and to continue on.

A part of him would always fear it had been a mistake. That the Web, or the Eye, or some other power still had plans for him that would reach apotheosis someday. Maybe he saw the fear as vigilance, as though something was waiting for him to feel safe so that it could rip that security from him. And as long as he never allowed himself to be truly, entirely at ease, that day would never come.

Irrational, perhaps. But it was so hard to tell anymore which irrational fears were truly irrational, and which would one day manifest with teeth and claws.

Even if nothing ever came for him, they had only bought the world some time. One day, maybe soon, someone would figure it out and attempt a ritual again. Maybe there would be others out there who would catch it in time, postponing the end over and over, forever. Or maybe someone would do it next week, and Jon would be plunged along with everyone else into unspeakable suffering until Terminus claimed them all. He could follow Gertrude's path if he chose, devote his life to stopping rituals at the cost of everything he cared for. Even then one could slip past him, come from someplace he hadn't been watching, or had been made not to notice. At some point he was going to have to find a way to live with that knowledge.

He'd work on it. But for the moment . . . .

The sound of running water stopped. Jon smiled, scooting to make room on the couch, feeling the cushions sink and shift as they took the weight of another person. With a hmm that came out with more whine to it than he'd wanted, Jon found Martin's arm and tugged it towards him. With a quiet laugh, Martin obliged, leaning into him and resting his head against his chest.

"Better," Jon arranged their limbs more comfortably. Martin's hands were still cold, and he smelled faintly of dish soap.

"Glad to hear it."

Jon knew Martin found it amusing, how clingy he was. The first time he'd commented on it had been profoundly embarrassing. Part of it was just the way Jon was, but he also remembered the days after the Lonely. The skittish, uncertain moments of contact, the times when Martin stiffened at his touch but whimpered when he pulled away. The other days, when they could barely let go of one another, when Jon would plant himself beside Martin or wrap his arms over his shoulders, and he would relax into it, sighing with release. Both of them too grateful for the fragile miracle of each other's touch to consider breaking contact.

This Martin didn't remember those days, and if he ever sensed anything desperate or reverent in the way Jon clung, he didn't comment on it. Still, even if he found it funny, he didn't seem to mind how ardently Jon held on to him.

Jon moved a hand into the space between Martin's shoulder blades and scratched down his spine, the particular way he used to like. Jon felt him shiver with pleasure under the soothing contact, and a powerful warmth spread through him.

"God . . ." Martin whispered, "you really know everything about me, don't you?"

Jon snorted. "Hardly. In a very real way, we barely had time to get to know each other. And when we did, well . . . it was close by necessity. It was intimate, and intense. But there's still a great deal I've no idea about."

"You were never tempted to use those powers of omniscience to look inside my head?"

"Constantly," Jon said, with great seriousness. "But I never did. I promised."

Martin went quiet at that. Maybe Jon's reply had been a little intense, or maybe Martin hadn't actually realized that looking inside his head had been a possibility when he'd asked the question as a joke.

"Oh," he said eventually. "Um . . . good?"

"I have picked up a few things," Jon continued, speaking with quiet and fond admiration. "For example . . . I know you'd like a pet, but your landlord won't allow them so you keep plants instead. You can't say no to panhandlers. You have a favorite hoodie that you only wear when you're sad and need the comfort. You like old, careworn furniture, and rainy days, and sitcoms that were made before you were born. You're kind to people who aren't kind to you, but you never forget the unkindness."

"Wow. Okay," Martin made a soft noise, shifting in his arms, voice tight and quiet. "Okay. Y-You're, uh, probably going to kill me if you keep that up, you know."

"Trust me, you've survived worse."

He felt Martin move a little higher, slotting himself beside Jon and giving him a tight squeeze. Jon grinned as the breath was pushed out of him, all twenty-four of his ribs contracting at the assault.

That was another difference, one of dozens of subtle changes Jon couldn't keep his mind from analyzing. Martin wasn't ungentle, exactly. But he hugged Jon more tightly, shoved or poked him when he was annoyed, whereas the Martin in his memories had held back a little. Been more mindful of his strength, as if wary he might handle him too roughly. It had been subtle, a thing Jon hadn't even noticed until he had something to contrast it against.

It made sense, he supposed. The other Martin had seen Jon limp back to the institute with fresh wounds and new scars one too many times. This one didn't have to have those images in his head.

There were some things that were lost between them, Jon knew that. Memories too small and simple to explain, questions he couldn't ask anymore. Moments they would never share, both good and bad. But there was also so much they had gained. This Martin hadn't had an easy life, not by any measure. But he hadn't had to watch helplessly as the people around him died or disappeared or became monstrous. Hadn't been lost in grinning corridors, or attacked by Hopworth's hooligans, or made to feel the heat of the endless tenement fire. And for that, Jon was so, so grateful.

"You look thoughtful," Martin commented.

"Mmm," Jon sat quietly for a while sifting through his thoughts before speaking. "We should go to a movie sometime. When I'm up for going out out."

"That sounds less fun for you than me . . . ."

"Depends on the movie. I could listen, even without description. And I'd enjoy being with you," he said. "Or maybe a concert? Though I don't really know what sort of music you like . . . ."

"Really? There's actually a blank spot in your catalogue of Martin trivia?" he said sarcastically. "Surprised it never came up."

"You only ever used headphones at work," Jon bristled, feeling oddly defensive about it, "and we obviously couldn't bring our devices to the cabin. Too traceable."

"Hmm," there was a teasing smile in Martin's voice. "Don't know if I want to tell, now. Feels like I've got a secret."

"Oh, except . . . there was one song? I don't know the lyrics, but you used to hum it all the time in the cabin."

"What was it called?"

"I didn't actually ask. It sounded nice, though. Maybe we could listen to it together. . . "

"How'd it go, then?"

He hummed the tune from memory. It came easily to mind, connected as it was with images of Martin sipping tea or wiping down a countertop, a bright, easy smile on his face. After a moment, Martin burst out laughing.

"That's -- that's from a soap commercial!"

". . . What?"

"Floors and doors, walls and halls, Liquid Lather cleans them all," he spoke-sang along with the tune. "It was probably just stuck in my head."

Jon frowned, mildly disappointed. "Well. It sounded nice when you were humming it, anyway."

"God. If you want I can serenade you with an insurance advert sometime."

"No thank you."

"Or we could listen to your album from uni," he pushed, the satisfied smile in his voice growing.

"Thankfully we never recorded anything," Jon grinned ruefully, "so that's lost to time."

"Bet you could still sing some of it."

"Try me the next time I'm not expecting to live through the night."

Martin made a displeased sound at that, but said nothing.

"I'm sorry that you always have to come over here," Jon said. "I should probably be making more of an effort to get out of the flat. But it's so much still, even with a guide. I can do it if I have to, but I can't relax."

"C'mon . . . you know I don't mind, and even if I did it wouldn't be something to apologize for. You're going at your own pace."

"Suppose I'm just impatient with myself. It feels absurd, I've walked through a London warped by unfathomable terror, but now ordinary city life is overwhelming. I think I never understood how many people there are on every block until each one became another unpredictable factor to be aware of on my way to the damn corner store," he sighed. "It may be a while before I'm up for anything like a concert."

"It's alright," Martin gave his arm a gentle squeeze. "I'm good at waiting."

For a moment Jon's mind went to a dark, creaking bedroom, air heavy with dust and thick with terror. It's all right. I'm good at waiting. The same phrasing, almost the same tone. Maybe it was to be expected, little parallels like this. Given a person's linguistic habits and enough time it was probably inevitable, but every time something like it happened it floored Jon in the most wonderful way. Some small but meaningful part of the man he loved reflecting and echoing back at him.

If the world didn't end, if he didn't dissolve into spiders or die at the hands of some unfathomable terror, Jon swore someday he'd find the words for how moments like that made him feel. And if he had any courage left in him, he'd tell Martin about it.

"Though, as long as we're talking about that," Martin said, "I've been thinking . . . ."

"In general?" Jon teased.

"Sort of. I've been reading some stuff about adjusting to vision loss? And I know this is fast – well, maybe not fast to you – but it seems to me like it's probably easier, especially at first, if you've got a sighted person staying with you . . ."

He felt himself breathe in sharply, and Martin's words came faster, his tone careful.

"Not - not to do everything for you, of course! I know you can do things yourself. Just to make little things easier, and – you know, that aspect aside it – it might just be nice –"

"Yes," Jon said decisively.

"Because it isn't really just the vision thing – I mean, it's alright if you do need help but it's also alright if you don't – but there's other reasons – "

"My answer is yes."

A faint laugh came out of Martin and he slapped Jon's chest lightly. "Stop agreeing and let me finish."

"Sorry."

"I'm not suggesting moving in. That would be too fast, at least for me," he said. "I'd want to keep my own place, and I'd probably still spend some time there."

"Of course," Jon nodded solemnly. "Perfectly reasonable to want some space of your own."

"Yeah. But if it works for you, I thought I might get a bag together, y'know, just sort of stay for a while? I – hell, I wouldn't, uh, mind the excuse to cook more dinners with you? And I slept better than I had in a while the night I stayed over here."

"So did I."

"I just think it might be nice. If you think so too, of course."

There was a pause as Jon waited, not sure if Martin had more to say. After the silence had dragged on for a while, he spoke up. "Am I allowed to say yes now?"

Martin laughed, nodding against Jon's chest.

"Then yes. I'd be very happy to have you stay here with me."

"Cool. Cool . . . " Martin exhaled. " . . . I love you."

"And I love you."

"More than I'll ever know?"

There was a teasing smile in Martin as he echoed the words Jon had said to him back in the tunnel. Jon was quiet for a moment.

He'd meant those words when he'd said them. It hadn't been a romantic turn of phrase. He'd confessed his feelings in that moment with the understanding that Martin would never be able to see how deep they ran. That he could tell Martin he loved him, but he'd never be able to show him that. He wouldn't have the chance. He found Martin's cheek with a hand, turned his face towards him, then bent down and kissed him, once.

"No," he said. "Not if I can help it."

#tma fanfic #tma #jonmartin #food mention

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subarublue · 3 years

Text

Joke’s On You

One Shot

Fandom: Devil May Cry

Timeline: Post DMC4 (could even be post DMC5 if you want…I kept those details vague. The only telling thing is the fact that Nero’s there)

Rating: Teen

Pairing: Dante x Female Reader

Word Count: 4224

Read on Ao3

Summary: “Hey! Know any good jokes, sweetheart?”

If ever there was someone who could get bored in the middle of a fight, it was most definitely Dante.

Notes: So...this is an old one. I say that even though this was just posted on Ao3 last September only because it was my first story ever. I was debating on whether or not to post it here because I don’t feel 100% happy with it, but I figure, eh what the heck. I’m never gonna revise it though, so I can look back and see how much better I’ve gotten at writing...if at all, lol.

“Hey! Know any good jokes, sweetheart?” Dante called out before he shot another large demon that thought it was a smart idea to target the weakest member of your group; you. You might have wondered if the thing regretted its decision, that is, if your blood hadn’t suddenly rushed to your face at the pet name he’d used to address you. God, you loved it when he called you that...well, at least you assumed he was talking to you. You highly doubted he’d call Nero that.

He glanced at you with a smirk. He must’ve known what calling you that did to you and you really wished you could hide your face without risking your life at that moment. You were sure he could tell that you were as red as a tomato despite how dark the street you were currently on was.

It certainly didn’t help that you’d fallen hard for the man. Adding in the fact that he was a huge flirt and had you blushing like mad at pretty much everything he said anyway made you wonder if he knew about your little crush on him. But he never said anything about it so you assumed...maybe he hadn’t actually noticed? You weren’t sure which you preferred.

He was looking at you again, expectantly this time. Oh, right. He’d asked you a question.

“A good joke!?” you sounded incredulous as you fired off round after round at more demons closing in on you. Did he really mean now?

Who were you kidding? Of course he meant now. If ever there was someone who could get bored in the middle of a fight, it was most definitely Dante. You could just hear Nero’s groan over all the commotion, clearly showing his annoyance with the older hunter.

Dante cut a large arc through the air with his sword, killing three more demons at once when they tried to jump over him. “Yeah! This is gettin’ kinda old. Think we could use some better entertainment.” You could hear the playful lilt to his voice. While he was enjoying himself, he was quickly losing interest in the fight. You knew that last part had been a gibe at the weak demons you all were fighting, so you weren’t quite sure if he was serious or not.

“Are you for real, right now? Don’t you think we ought to be concentrating on trying not to get killed, instead?” Of course by ‘we’ you really meant yourself. It wouldn’t do for you to be distracted right now after all; you weren’t nearly as experienced as the other two. You shot down another small demon that made it past Nero with your rifle. He and Dante were taking on the brunt of the work, shooting and slicing through the huge horde that was advancing on your small group, while you stayed a ways behind taking care of any demons that got lucky enough to make it by the two hunters in front of you.

“Aw! Come on now, babe! You got nothing to worry about!” Dante yelled back to you as he sliced another demon in half. “I’ll protect you. I can be your knight in red leather!” Dante threw you a grin before turning back to the fight. The demons were advancing more quickly now, their desperation to overrun the three of you growing by the minute. You shook off your embarrassment at his cheesy line and slung your rifle over your shoulder by the strap. You drew two pistols instead since it seemed that speed was becoming more necessary as the demons tried to swarm the three of you.

You heard Nero bite out, “Would you knock it off already? I doubt she’s interested in your old ass, so lay off! We got a job to do!” He skewered a demon that tried to slip by him with his sword.

You couldn’t have wanted to smack Nero in the head more than in that moment. You knew you probably weren’t Dante’s type (though you weren’t really sure what his type was exactly), but you surely didn’t need, nor want, any more help in turning away the man’s attentions. Even if the flirting didn’t mean anything to him.

“You seem to forget, kid,” Dante started, emphasizing the word “kid” to get a rise out of Nero, “that she and I have known each other for quite a while now. If she’s got a problem with me, she knows she can just say so,” he finished as he took out another demon trying to get the jump on him. The taunt worked, and you could see Nero bristle at being called a kid as he took his anger out on another particularly unlucky devil. “Besides, what do you care? You gettin’ jealous over there, or something? Thought you already had a girlfriend? Or are you as bad at relationships as you are at killing demons?”

You glanced back at Dante as he taunted Nero some more in time to see another weak enemy “sneak” by him (you were sure he allowed it so you’d have something to practice on), and it was easily gunned down by your pistols. Unfortunately, you missed whatever spluttered reply Nero had made. Probably some comment on how Dante himself had terrible luck with women.

“Shouldn’t we be focusing more on the fight?” you asked nervously. You didn’t doubt Dante could and would protect you (Nero too, of course), but there was always that ‘what if?’ “I mean, I do know some of good ones, but...” you trailed off.

He was quick to reply before you could finish. “Yeah! I’m in the mood for a good laugh. This has been pretty tedious and boring anyway,” he continued with his taunting. “And don’t worry so much! The end’s in sight.”

Sure enough, a glance down the dim street showed the end of the horde of demons. Finally, you thought.

“Is this really the time for that kind of thing?!” You heard Nero’s exclamation over the sound of Red Queen revving as he picked off a few more demons.

“Any time’s a good time! What’re you talkin’ about!?” Dante defended.

The remaining demons had now changed tactics, opting for a straight forward attack as they desperately charged up the street, taking the two, more experienced hunters head-on. That’s not a very smart plan, you thought wryly. Dante had put Ivory away at some point in favor of using Ebony in conjunction with his sword as the rest of demons drew in close. Thankfully, none of them were particularly strong and with Dante and Nero flanking you, you figured you were well protected and finally decided to humor the man.

“Okay, I do know a really good one, but it’s kind of long. Has a really good punch line, though!” you said as you thought about the best joke you knew. You’d learned it from a friend a long time ago, and it was by far one of the best you’d heard. You figured it would be the kind of joke Dante would appreciate. On second thought, you were almost too embarrassed to tell it. God he’s gonna make so much fun of me for it later. Maybe I should pick a different one, you thought, remembering the joke’s end. As the demons’ numbers dwindled, they began to get more desperate and frustrated at the fact that they hadn’t even drawn blood from any of you.

“Well, we gotta hear it now!” came Dante’s over-ecstatic reply and you knew he wasn’t going to drop it until you told the joke.

You heard Nero groan again and mutter something you couldn’t quite catch over the sound of his sword’s engine. It sounded a bit like ‘not pandering to old men’ or something like that.

“Sooo,” you started off loudly, trying to talk over the noise of the fight as you shot another demon trying to get in close, “somewhere far away in a valley, there is this forest. And in the middle of this forest, is a lake. And over this lake is a fly, buzzing around and minding its own business.”

“What the hell kind of joke is this supposed to be?” Nero rattled off as another demon fell to his blade.

“Shut up and listen and you’ll see!” You got a little aggravated with him since you’d barely started and he was already complaining. “Anyways, in the water is a fish, watching this fly buzzing over this lake, in the middle of this forest, in this valley far away. And the fish thinks to itself, You know, if that fly would just drop six inches, I could jump out of the water, catch that fly, and have myself a tasty snack!" A demon caught you off guard in that moment. You knew you wouldn’t be fast enough to defend yourself, but before you could even react you caught sight of Dante’s sword hacking it in half. He’d definitely made good on his claim of being your knight and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Sounds like a good one! Keep going, sweetheart!” Dante said as he turned away to stop another demon from trying to impale him with a claw. You were glad he was distracted so he couldn’t see you blush again.

You continued, “Now a ways away on the bank of this lake, is a bear. And this bear is watching this fish, watch this fly, buzzing over this lake, in this forest, in this valley far away. And the bear thinks to itself, You know, if that fly would just drop six inches, the fish would go for that fly, I could rush in, catch that fish and have myself a yummy dinner!” You killed a couple more demons that tried to sneak up on Nero, and he grunted out his gratitude. Unlike Dante, he was clearly not enjoying himself.

“Further on down the bank, is a hunter.” Nero groaned again and you suspected he must be setting a new record for the number of groans in one night. You heard Dante chuckle on the other side of you though, so you pressed on, “And this hunter is watching this bear, watch this fish, watch this fly, buzzing over this lake, in this forest, in this valley far away. And the hunter thinks to himself, You know, if that fly would just drop six inches, the fish would go for that fly, the bear would go for that fish, and while it’s distracted, I could shoot that bear,” you paused as you heard a gunshot from Nero’s gun go off killing another demon, “and have myself a nice trophy.”

You could see the end more clearly now. Only about twenty or so demons were left and they were getting cut down pretty quickly, so you kept going, “Now at the edge of the hunter’s camp, is a cat.”

“Let me guess...stupid cat is watching the hunter, watching the bear, blah, blah, blah!” Nero grated out, clearly annoyed as he swung his sword at another demon desperately trying to get a hit in.

“What!? NO!” you yelled at him, getting annoyed yourself at his interruptions. You supposed you couldn’t really blame him. This had been a pretty tedious job as Dante had stated earlier. Taking a moment to shoot another approaching demon, you calmed yourself and grinned at Nero since he’d only been half wrong. “He’s eyeballing the hunter’s turkey sandwich!”

“What the hell? Really!?” Nero seemed pretty exasperated at this point, but you heard Dante bark out a laugh as he killed another demon and decided you really didn’t care too much as long you could hear that laugh again.

You continued on, punch line in sight. "So this cat is also watching this hunter watch this bear, watch this fish, watch this fly, buzzing over this lake, in this forest, in this valley far away.” You could almost see the irritation rolling of Nero in waves at the fact that he was half right. “And the cat thinks to itself, You know, if that fly would just drop six inches, the fish would go for that fly, the bear would go for that fish, the hunter would go for that bear, and while he’s distracted, I could dart in and have myself a turkey sandwich!”

“Come on kid, cheer up! We’re almost done here!” you heard Dante yell over you at Nero and you couldn’t quite tell by his tone if he was trying to bait Nero or actually encourage him. Looking around though, you noticed he was right. There was only a handful of demons left to deal with.

“So anywaaay,” you stopped their conversation before Nero could reply and Dante gave you a sheepish grin in apology for the interruption, “eventually, the inevitable happens. The fly drops six inches!” you cried out as the last few remaining demons rushed the three of you. Realizing you wouldn’t be fast enough to be of much help, Dante and Nero took a defensive stance around you.

They slashed and shot at the remaining demons as you took the opportunity to bring your joke up to the punch line, “The fish leaps out of the water,” you raised your voice over the sound of the battle as Dante leapt in the air and brought his sword down, severing one of the demon’s heads from its body, “and snatches the fly right out of the air!”

Nero charged a demon closing in and dispatched it quickly. “The bear rushes into the lake and grabs the fish!” You turn to see Dante brandishing Ivory. “The hunter cocks his gun, takes aim, and fires!” The sound of real gunshots added sound effects to your story.

“The cat darts for the sandwich, trips on a can, rolls forward, and SPLOOSH! Ends up right in the lake!” you shouted as both Dante and Nero brought their swords down on the last two remaining demons.

What followed was a deafening silence in the wake of a clamorous fight. For a moment, no one spoke. First taking stock of the surrounding area, Dante listened intently for any stragglers. Finding nothing, he then nodded at you and Nero, signaling that the area was clear and the fight was over. You holstered your pistols as Dante and Nero put away their weapons as well and turned to face you. Nero was still clearly irritated, but Dante looked expectant and you wondered if you could bait one of them into asking for the punch line. You waited a beat, then spoke, “The end!” You then took a little bow to end your tale.

“WAIT! WHAT THE HELL?! THAT’S IT?!” Nero was almost yelling. Apparently, even though he’d been clearly annoyed by your joke, he seemed to have become quite invested in it. “That’s not even a joke! That’s just a weird, fucking story! Where’s the punch line?”

Hook, line, and sinker, you thought, snickering to yourself. The look on your face turned mischievous and a glance at Dante showed you a knowing grin as he awaited your punch line. “You’re absolutely right, Nero!”

“Huh?” He blinked, obviously confused for a moment as to why you’d agreed with him. You didn’t pause for long, though.

“But every story has a moral. Wanna take a guess at what the moral of this story is?” You waggled your eyebrows for added effect, which incited a chuckle out of Dante and you decided you really wanted to hear it more often.

Nero’s annoyance had returned by now and he stated through gritted teeth, “Don’t try and steal someone’s fucking turkey sandwich?”

Your smile fell immediately and you leveled him with the most deadpan look you could muster. “You must be real fun at parties, huh?” You heard Dante snort in an effort to stifle his laughter, which only seemed to irritate Nero further.

Remembering the punch line, you fought a sudden wave of shyness that crept up. You managed to succeed though, deciding to just barrel forward with it. “The moral of this story is:” you paused for dramatic effect, then shooting finger guns at the two men in front of you, delivered your punch line, “Every time a fly drops six inches, a pussy gets wet!”

There was a beat of stunned silence before Nero’s face turned beet red and Dante erupted in a raucous laughter that had him doubled over clutching his sides. Nero spluttered for a bit, unable to form a coherent stream of words together at first, due to his embarrassment.

Dante, still laughing, managed to speak in between breaths, “Holy shit, sweetheart! That’s got to be the best one I’ve heard in a while!” You couldn’t help but blush again (How many times had it been now?) at the combination of him using that pet name again and praise for your long-winded, dirty joke. As Dante’s laughter finally subsided, Nero seemed to have managed to collect himself.

“Man, you guys suck! I’m out! Next time, get Trish or Lady to go along with you ‘cause I ain’t coming!” The way he said it, you knew he wasn’t serious, but it had been a long night and he turned to stalk off angrily.

“Hey, kid! Don’t be like that. Loosen up a bit! You don’t wanna hurt her feelings, do ya?” Dante reprimanded Nero lightly. He wouldn’t take offense to anything Nero said, but he certainly didn’t want him taking his frustrations out on you.

Nero sighed and turned around. “Alright, alright,” he conceded, scratching the back of his head. “Sorry. Guess I’m just tired. It’s been a long night,” he finished with a nod to you. “The joke was actually a decent one, even if it was a bit long,” he paused, “and dirty.” He made an embarrassed face at that which had you giggling.

Suddenly, your mischievous grin was back and Nero wasn’t sure he wanted to hear what came out of your mouth next. “But the buildup is the most important part! You can’t have a good finish without a little foreplay!” You made finger guns at Nero again for emphasis and his blush was back tenfold as Dante started laughing again at his expense.

To his credit, Nero recovered more quickly this time, “God I’m so done with you two! I’m going home. See ya around!” he said it a bit harshly, but both you and Dante saw the hint of smile on his face as he turned away.

“Tell Kyrie ‘Hi’ for us!” Dante called out to him as he walked away. “Maybe you should tell her the joke!”

A loud and annoyed ‘BYE’ was all you got for a response as he left and you snickered a bit as Dante came up to stand beside you.

“Some people just don’t understand good humor,” he said as he turned to look at you, an expression of mirth on his face. He winked at you when you glanced up at him, and you were pretty sure your face was now permanently the same color as his jacket.

God! Could I be any more obvious? you grimaced inwardly, but outwardly, managed a shy smile for your friend. That’s right, just friends. “Well I don’t know about good humor, but at least someone enjoyed it,” you said in response. Dante nodded, but didn’t reply and, for a moment, just stood there watching you. It felt like forever as you started to fidget under his intense gaze, but in reality it was probably less than a minute.

Finally he broke the silence, “You know...it’s getting pretty late and I’m a bit tired after all that. Don’t quite feel like driving you home tonight. How about you just crash at the shop? There’ll be pizza, maybe a movie. I’ll even buy this time, sweetheart.” In the silence of the night, you just knew he could hear your heart thundering in your chest. Belatedly, you realized he’d called you sweetheart almost all night, having dropped the ‘babe’ a long time ago. His normal cocky smirk was gone, replaced by a soft smile.

You tried to school your emotions into a blank mask, but you were pretty sure you failed miserably, and you gave him a timid laugh. You tried to break through your shyness again by cracking a joke with him. “You? Buy? You sure you got enough money for that, Dante, ‘cause that almost sounds like a date, you know?” You found you couldn’t look him in the eyes at the moment.

You heard Dante chuckle beside you and tried to savor the sound for as long as you could. “Well, what would you do if it was?”

You froze at that. You were pretty sure your mouth had dropped open and was catching flies, but you couldn’t seem to get any decent words to form at first as you floundered for a response. “Wha-what do you m-mean, what if it was?!” you finally managed to squeak out.

“Thought I was pretty obvious there, but if you need me to spell it out for you, I’m asking for a date.” He winked at you again, smile still on his face. You realized then, he most definitely did know about you’re little crush on him. Now there was a burning question in your mind you just had to ask.

“How long have you known?” You almost whispered it, your voice was so quiet, but you knew he heard you clearly. He crossed his arms over his chest, and your eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to them, staring blatantly at his exposed forearms.

He cleared his throat and the sound immediately brought your eyes back up to his face. “Pretty much since we met,” he answered as you gaped at him. His face wore an expression that told you he knew you’d been ogling him. “You aren’t exactly subtle about it, point in case.” The smile on his face grew into a grin, probably because you were blushing like mad again and he knew he was the reason for it.

When you finally calmed down after a moment, but face still red, you managed to reply, “Yeah, well, you don’t exactly make it easy for a girl to hide it, ya know?” You were smiling like crazy too as you peeked up at him from under your eyelashes. Another question flashed through your mind and you decided to voice it too, “Why did you wait so long to call me on it?”

He sighed, taking on a serious tone. “My day job, or well night job I guess, is pretty dangerous as you very well know.” He gestured to the carnage that was left in the wake of the battle. “Gotta make sure my girl can take care of herself in case I’m not around to do it for her.” You blinked at that. You knew he had a big target on his back, being the son of Sparda and all that, so it was very likely that anyone he’d get close to could end up a target, too.

Suddenly though, your brain caught up with exactly what he’d said, “Wait, your girl?! I...I did hear that correctly, right?” Your mind was in overdrive, but you couldn’t seem to wipe the smile off your face as it grew. “Is that why you first asked me to start practice shooting with you? So you could make sure I could handle myself, if necessary?”

“Yeah, pretty much. You’re still not quite there yet, but I just got tired of waitin’, ya know?” he said at first, but then his expression fell to panic, suddenly realizing how you could take that the wrong way, and he tried to clarify, “Not that you’re a slow learner or anything! You’re doing really great, actually! I just meant that...well, I was...I just, uh,” he gave up and sighed heavily, turning his head up to the sky with his eyes closed in frustration. He felt like he’d already fucked this up and he hadn’t even gotten to get that pizza with you yet.

You startled him a bit as you gently took hold one of his hands. He uncrossed his arms to let you as he looked down at you again. “I know what you meant,” you said softly holding his hand with both of yours. You added teasingly, “You’ve never really been the patient type.”

“Yeah, yeah. C’mere you.” He pulled you into hug and you relished the feeling of his strong arms wrapping around you.

You giggled. “Guess you’re pretty lucky that I’m interested in your ‘old ass,’ huh?” you said poking fun at him over what Nero had said earlier.

“Ha! Joke’s on you, sweetheart,” he replied, pulling away slightly with a devilish grin. “You’re the one crushin’ on my ‘old ass.’ Now, then…” He pulled you back in close, bending down so that his mouth was right next to your ear as he lowered his voice to a husky whisper, “Why don’t we head back to my place and find out how true that little punch line of yours is?”

You let out a squeak at that and he laughed for the umpteenth time that night, but you decided you had no complaints on the matter when he leaned in for a kiss.

#devil may cry #devil may cry fanfiction #dmc dante #female reader #dante x reader #my writing #dirty joke #canon typical violence #dmc nero #suby scrawls

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cotncandyboifics · 3 years

Text

A Lovely Night: Chapter 2

AO3 Link

Masterpost

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter 6

Pairing(s): pre-established roceit & prinxiety, anaroceit, eventual anaroloceit, eventual intruality

Word count: ~2k

Story summary: Roman's boyfriends had had a rivalry since before either of them had actually met Roman. Running a bit late to a date night, Roman accidentally gets them to start dating too.

General CW: non-detailed description of an anxiety attack, non-detailed description of physical pain, food, kissing, potentially triggering descriptions of physical bodies, swearing, caps lock, school settings, s-xual innuendos, slight description of gore(imagery), vague descriptions of anxiety, Implications of an eating disorder, fatigue, dissociation, suppression of stimming, implied heavy restriction (ED), inner monologue-style anxiety description, eating,(will be added to as I write more)

Chapter CW: kissing, swearing, subtle s-xual innuendo, (let me know if i missed anything please!)

Author notes: this is the starring role chapter! If that makes sense... after this I'm kind of making up the plot stream-of-consciousness style. I'm pretty excited to get CH 5 out.

...

Virgil knew this whole thing was a mistake.

Roman had practically begged him to break out his skirt, fishnet, and heels. He'd only just bought them, and Roman was entirely too enticed by the idea of his boyfriend wearing them. He was very nervous - he'd never worn heels before, and never a skirt out in public - but he just couldn't bring himself to say no to his love.

And so, here he stood, leaning on the railing over a valley as the sun began reaching to kiss the horizon. He'd worn his favorite ripped crop top and leather jacket, fishnets reaching across his exposed navel, down beneath his plaid purple skirt and all the way into the black high heels he wore. He'd done his makeup a little nicer than usual, winging his eyeliner and getting a bit of purple sparkles in with his eyeshadow. his hair curled and twined haphazardly over his forehead and eyes as he watched lights of houses in the valley flicker on.

This was meant to be a special date, just Janus, Roman and Virgil. Roman had planned it, and kept the events a complete secret to both his boyfriends, simply telling them when and where to meet him. Virgil checked his phone; it was two minutes to seven, the agreed upon time. Virgil tended to arrive early to most things, since he was usually anxious that he'd be late even when getting a 30 minute head start. He passed his phone between his hands, the screen flickering on when his thumb accidentally tapped it, and a picture of Roman kissing a smirking Janus on the cheek greeted him. He felt his cheeks heat up, and slid his phone back into his pocket.

A clicking noise sounded from a little ways away, and Virgil turned to seek its source.

Janus was walking up, the heels of his black and white dress shoes clicking on the pavement. He wore a black wool suit with golden accents, a red dress shirt with subtle frills and a black bowtie. On his head rested his favorite bowler hat, concealing the majority of his golden curls - some of which escaped anyway, tucked neatly against his forehead and over his ears. He smirked and bowed as he approached Virgil, dipping his head and holding one golden gloved hand fisted tight against the small of his own back. Virgil scoffed and shoved his shoulder, and Janus stumbled a bit, snickering back.

Janus joined Virgil at the railing, looking out at the valley and the setting sun. They stood in a comfortable silence for a while, Virgil needing to consistently will himself not to rest his head on Janus' shoulder that was painfully close but felt so far.

After long enough, Janus cleared his throat. "Where might our dear prince be?" He ran his fingers down the underside of one of his lapels, not yet tearing his gaze from the pink clouds surrounding the sunset. Virgil opted to check his phone.

"Uh..." He couldn't form the words, so he simply presented his phone to Janus. A single text had come through.

Romano<3 Hey babe, I'm running kinda late. Why don't you and Jannie entertain each other until I get there? Sorry. Love you <3<3<3

Janus hummed, eyebrows raised. "Well it appears we're stuck with each other for the time being." He smirked slightly, and Virgil scoffed, bumping shoulders with him.

"What a waste," Virgil mused under his breath after a few more minutes of them staring out at the sunset together.

"Ah..." Janus glanced at Virgil briefly. "Such a shame. What a lovely view. It's practically hand drawn for a couple." He sighed, a little too dramatically, and Virgil furrowed his brow at him. "If only Roman were here. Unfortunately, you're not really my type, darling."

"Really." Virgil spat, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest protectively.

"Alas it's only you and I," Janus continued, leaning slightly closer to Virgil, "and frankly, we've got no chemistry whatsoever."

"Ah, okay snakey." Virgil bit back, not daring to look at the smirk he was sure was playing on Janus' face. "I think I can make that call, huh? Just because you look all pretty in that polyester suit doesn't-"

"It's wool," Janus interjected in annoyance. Although after a moment he gasped slightly, turning to Virgil fully. "Wait a moment! Did you just call me pretty, Charlie Frown?" He leaned a little too close, and Virgil scrunched his nose, leaning away slightly.

"Stealing Ro's nicknames for me doesn't make you creative," Virgil deflected, smirking right back at Janus.

"Mmm, perhaps not," Janus leaned away, seemingly examining his fingernails through his gloves.

"And for the record, I'm also feeling no chemistry."

"Is that so?" Janus' attention was back on Virgil, and their eyes locked in an intense and silent battle. Virgil wouldn't back down, just as he never had before, but this time he wasn't sure what he was trying to prove. He straightened his posture, making his chest puff out slightly. Even if Janus was taller than him, he wouldn't shy away from a confidence contest. No, not even if his crush was literally looming over him, not even if he could swear he just saw Janus' eyes flick to his lips for an imperceptible millisecond.

"Yeah. It is." He leaned his head forward, almost bumping his forehead on Janus'. Had he ever seen Janus' face so red?

"So you agree, then," Janus spoke, voice ever so slightly unsteady, but he didn't dare back down. Even if he was nose to nose with a boy he was in love with.

"Yeah, I guess I do." Virgil scrunched his nose again. This time, when Janus' eyes flicked to his lips, it wasn't deniable. He watched it happen, clear as day.

And so, he took a chance.

He took one step forward, not moving his head at all but nearly pushing his body against Janus'. Janus responded in kind, taking a step forward as well, and they were chest to chest. Virgil reached up and gripped Janus' lapels. They were impressively soft, and Virgil realized Janus hadn't just been bragging; it was in fact a wool suit. Janus' hands came to Virgil's hips. Virgil pressed their foreheads together, and didn't dare look away from Janus' eyes. They both breathed on each other, caught up in the heat of the moment without even needing to move with each other.

They'd both been waiting for this for so long.

Slowly, Janus' arms wrapped around Virgil's waist, and Virgil tilted his jaw up slightly. Janus met him halfway, immediately initiating a passionate, openmouthed kiss. Virgil's arms wrapped around Janus' neck, and Janus held him as close against himself as he physically could.

Virgil's mind was exploding, and so was Janus'. Neither of them could believe that this was really real. But they were both too afraid to break the kiss to make sure that it was, so they just kept kissing.

Hands wandered as they did, and Virgil had his arms wrapped beneath Janus' and around his back, both of them pulling each other against themselves as snugly as they could. Neither could get enough of this feeling they'd been chasing for so many years, and the fact that it had all culminated into this moment felt intoxicating in a way neither could describe.

Eventually things slowed down, and they went from lovingly tongue battling to trading gentle slow pecks, both of them smiling stupidly as they rested their foreheads together once more.

Janus opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted. "I genuinely thought you two weren't going to stop kissing for a minute there. Jeez."

Janus gasped and Virgil yelped, both of them jumping about a foot in the air and a foot away from each other. Roman, who was sitting on the bench next to them, broke out in laughter.

"Ro you can't sneak up on us like that, man!" Virgil wheezed out though labored breaths, as he tried to calm himself. Janus just stood straight as a pencil with his hands pressed into his face.

After long enough, Roman caught his breath, but he was still smiling so big at his boyfriends. They both looked between Roman and each other, trying desperately to probe the situation without moving a muscle.

Roman brought his hands to his face, fingers curled into happy fists. "Do you know how happy it makes me that you two finally realized?" Roman practically squealed, and if it were even possible, Virgil's face went even redder. Janus collected himself, and cleared his throat.

"Well hello, Roman." He opened his mouth to say more, but the words wouldn't come. He kept glancing to Virgil, who had taken to staring at the floor.

Roman looked between the two of them for a moment. "Oh you big buffoons. Talking always has been hard for the two of you, huh? Come here, my loves." He patted the bench on either side of him, and his boyfriends came at his call, settling in with their thighs against Roman's. "Now hmm, how should we start... I suppose you can fill me in on what I missed?" he looked between them. "Surely you didn't simply see each other in your lovely-" Roman made a point to look Virgil up and down slowly, "-outfits," And Janus as well, "And just decide to attach at the lips immediately? That sounds like something I'd do, more so than either of you." Janus chuckled, and kissed Roman's cheek.

"Well, snakey here decided to make a deal about how pretty the sunset was. And how it was so romantic and all that. And how it was a waste that-" Virgil's snarky explanation was cut off.

"Excuse me, I started it? No no no Virgie," Janus smirked as Virgil's eyes widened at the nickname, "You were the first to make a sly comment about the waste of a romantic view."

"You tell Ro then, if you think you know so much better." Virgil crossed his arms over his chest and stuck his tongue out at Janus, who hummed a laugh.

"Alright. Well," His smirk was lost then, and he took to adjusting his gloves. "I then made a comment about the lack of chemistry between us, and... And I think Virgie said something about me being pretty," His smirk was no longer lost, and Virgil rolled his eyes to try and distract himself from his heart racing in his chest. "And... I'm not sure. We got... lost in the moment." Janus smiled then. A genuine smile. It was such a rare sight (as Roman and Virgil often commented to each other) that Roman nudged Virgil's shoulder so he'd look up to see it too. They both gaped at Janus happily for a few moments, before Janus cleared his throat. "So I suppose then that in the end, I was correct that you find me pretty, Virgil?"

Virgil choked on air for a moment. "Sure, yeah, whatever," He spoke under his breath, "but you were also wrong about the chemistry thing. So suck it." Virgil gave him a challenging grin.

"Ayo!" Roman snickered at the innuendo, and Virgil and Janus both rolled their eyes at him.

"But darling," Janus ignored Roman for a moment, and Virgil swore his chest would explode if Janus kept using pet names for him, "You so strongly agreed that there was no chemistry to be found between us, and yet." He held his hands out, gesturing to their circumstances and smirking yet again.

"Oh shut up pretty boy," Virgil growled in annoyance, reaching across Roman's lap and pulling Janus by the cheeks into another kiss.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #virgil sanders #ts virgil #ts roman #ts janus #janus sanders #roman sanders #anxceit #anaroceit #roceit #prinxiety #a lovely night #romantic no?

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angst-fairygodmother · 3 years

Text

Dreams (Oliver Sway x Reader)

A/N: I wasn’t going to write Ollie. In fact I was so sure, that I deleted this request after deciding that neither of the Nikolai prompts moved me. But luckily I had a screenshot, because I couldn’t stop thinking about the Ollie one. It was too perfect not to write. Word Count: 2036 Rating: G - I’m pretty sure this one is warningless, other than references to nightmares and references to The Song of Sway Lake.

Like many from the area, you had grown up hearing stories of the mighty Sways and their dominion over the lake. But you had never met one, almost believing them some story told just to increase the romantic draw of the area. Until the day Oliver and his friend stopped into your bookshop.

It was raining pretty heavily outside, the kind of days where locals stay home and tourists leave, driving out of town and off to museums and malls. The shop was empty, almost sleepy, and you were in the back fixing a cup of coffee to keep yourself from napping on the front desk when you heard the door chime. With a sigh, you put on your best customer service face and walked out.

“Hi, welcome to the Papermill,” you called before you had even fully circled the stacks. “I’m Y/N, I’ll be right with you.”

The two boys dripping on your welcome mat looked about your own age. One, tall with curly hair and blue button-up plastered to his skin, grinned at you, shamelessly looking you over. The other, long hair practically a matted mess, looked more sheepish, tugging at the ends of his shirtsleeves.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “We were just...out running errands for my grandmother and it started pouring. You were the closest place to duck into.”

“Oleg, you cannot tell a beautiful girl that,” his friend said, his accent shocking you. You were used to tourists, sure, but never one from...so far away. “You must pretend that it was she alone that called you in.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, raising a challenging eyebrow. “Do you also pretend she’s deaf?”

The Russian shrugged, still grinning.

Your eyes fell back to meet the other boy (Oleg, or Ollie, apparently), actually feeling drawn the way his friend said he should pretend to be, and your smile softened.

“I don’t mind being a refuge,” you said.

He looked startled, blue eyes widening.

“From the rain, I mean,” you rushed to clarify. “Actually, I think I’ve got a couple towels in the back, for emergencies. Let me grab them.”

You scurried back off, feeling flustered, before they could answer.

“You Americans, always so courteous,” the Russian said as you practically tossed an old, striped beach towel at him.

“Actually, I just don’t want you ruining my livelihood.”

You turned, holding out the other to Ollie, fingers brushing together as you passed it over, and he gave you a small smile.

“Once you don’t look like drowned rats, you’re free to look around,” you shrugged. “Or...there’s some chairs and stuff in the biography section if you want to just sit somewhere to wait things out.”

“Will you sit with us?” Ollie blurted out, surprising all three of you.

“Oh. Um…” you bit your lip. You wanted to, but you really should be working. Then again, there wasn’t likely to be any other customers. “Sure, I can do that, for a bit at least. Do y’all uh...coffee?” you gestured a thumb over your shoulder, as if that explained anything.

His friend glanced between you with a raised eyebrow and a devilish smirk before shaking his head and wandering off toward the back, where you didn’t feel like pointing out he’d mostly find children’s books.

Over the next hour, as the storm increased in intensity and rattled the windows, you found yourself falling into easy conversation with Ollie while Nikolai prowled the stacks. You suspected the odd Russian was up to something, but were surprised to find that you didn’t care as much as you probably should.

“You know,” you said eventually, shifting the way you were sitting with your knees tucked up under you, leaning closer to Ollie in the next chair, “I feel like I know you…”

“Well, it’s been a long time but my grandmother owns a place on the lake, and I sort of grew up here, it’s just been a while since I’ve been back,” he said reluctantly, as if he were somehow ashamed of his background.

“Oh!” you were surprised, expecting at most that he was a seasonal visitor. There hadn’t been that many other kids around growing up, so you started racking your brain for who he might be.

“Yes,” Nikolai piped in from somewhere in what you hazarded a guess was the science-fiction section. “Don’t you know? He is a Sway.” The pronouncement was made with the same level of gravitas and pomp as one might announce that someone was the king of Spain.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Like, your name is attached to the lake, Sway?”

Ollie was tugging uncomfortably at his sleeves again, like he was trying to disappear within his sweater. “It's no big deal.”

You studied him for a moment. He seemed somehow both proud and ashamed of his heritage, and uncomfortable talking about it. You already liked this boy a lot, more already than you cared to admit. So despite your questions, you shrugged.

“Cool,” you said casually, changing the subject back to music, where he seemed like he shined and you were content to sit back and just listen.

Before you knew it, you had whiled away the entire afternoon and the weather was finally letting up. You were reluctant to say goodbye to Oliver and found yourself impulsively giving him a hug before he left.

Since then, he had seemed to find any excuse he could to come back. Sometimes Nikolai would come too, but as much as you enjoyed the company of the wild Russian, you preferred the quiet days when it was just you and Ollie. He was sweet, and pretty hilarious once he came out of his shell (or maybe stopped being overshadowed by larger personalities?)

Until one day he came into the shop, looking sullen and lost.

“Ollie?” you asked, circling the counter, frowning. “Are you alright?”

He shook his head, and your frown only deepened. Bending back over the counter, standing on your toes to do so, you dug around for something. Finding it, you slapped the “Be back soon” sign on the desk and led him over to your usual chairs.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, leaning over to take his hands.

He stared, unblinking, at you and the silence was starting to unnerve you.

“Oliver?” you lifted one of your hands to wave in front of him. “Hello? You’re starting to scare me…”

That seemed to finally shake him out of the odd funk he was in and he blinked owlishly.

“Sorry, I just...I had a weird dream last night,” he said slowly.

You nodded, tilting your head curiously. In all your long conversations, his nightmares had come up a few times, and while they seemed more strange than sinister to you, you understood how much the loss of his father haunted him, sometimes it seemed quite literally. He confessed that he’d hoped that finding the record would quiet his father’s spirit, and that the longer he struggled to do so, the worse the dreams had been getting, to the point where there were nights he woke up more tired than he’d gone to bed. So you understood, to a degree, why he might look haggard, but this seemed different. You waited patiently for him to go on.

“It wasn’t about my dad this time,” he explained.

His eyes drifted down to your still joined hands, and your face heated guiltily.

“Sorry, I wasn’t...I just...I thought...I’ll…” you stammered, finding yourself at a total loss for how to explain why your instinct had been to comfort him with physical touch.

You moved to pull your hands back, thinking he was upset by the contact, but he curled his own around you to stop you. You made a small noise of confusion, but relaxed back into it.

“So, if it wasn’t about your dad, what was your dream about that has you so...off-kilter?”

“I was leaving the lake, alone, and then I kept seeing a face everywhere.”

“Like a creepy serial killer's face?”

He shook his head, hair swinging across his face as he moved, and you itched to reach out and comb it back.

“No, it was like I was trying to catch up to someone, or find them.”

“And did you? Or at least figure out who it was?”

He shifted nervously. “It was...you.”

“What?” your heart was racing, and you frowned, almost not believing what Ollie was saying.

“I dreamt about you last night, Y/N.” He seemed stunned, almost awed, as he said the words out loud, blue eyes wide and watching you for a reaction.

You felt rooted in your chair, mouth falling open in shock. Your eyes flickered over his face, so open and earnest that it almost hurt.

“Ollie…” you breathed, more because you felt like you needed to say something than because you had any clue what to say.

It would have been one hell of a pickup line, if it had been said by a stranger at a bar, or with the kind of cocky charm that Nikolai oozed, or in almost any context but this one. Now it felt intense and a little bit frightening, because you knew Ollie and you knew how much stock he placed in dreams and all the possible meanings of him telling you this were...a lot. But you didn’t necessarily want to pull away, and you certainly didn’t want to run. You just wanted your mind to process it all.

“I can’t remember the last time I had a good dream, and this one wasn’t great, because I was still alone and feeling like I was always a few seconds too late, but it wasn’t a nightmare, and I didn’t wake up in a cold sweat,” he carried on, trying to explain more, or rationalize, or something.

The sound of a bell disturbed your thoughts, as one of the old tourist bitties that had been slowly perusing tapped it repeatedly, demanding you return to work immediately to serve her.

“If you want, we’ve got some stuff about dream interpretation in the Spiritual section,” you suggested as you got up to return to work.

About halfway across the shop, you turned back to flash him a wink. “But I’ve got a pretty good guess what this one meant, without needing a guide.”

Intense and a little weird or not, you liked Ollie a lot. If he was really dreaming about you, or pretending he was, you’d play along, and maybe something would move forward, or at least a door would open so you could make a move.

He shot up from his chair and trailed you back to the counter. As soon as the lady was out of the way, a bag of rather scandalous romance novels in her arms, he leaned his elbows on the tall wooden surface, pretty far into your space. Normally such an action would have annoyed you, but strangely, because it was him, you didn’t mind so much.

“What does it mean then, Y/N?” he asked, a curious expression on his face, his eyes betraying a hint of teasing that you were pleasantly surprised to see.

You rolled your eyes, leaning your chin in your hand and tilting your head to look at him.

“Are you ever going to ask me out, Ollie?”

He rocked backwards, stunned by your bluntness after so long dancing around each other.

“Or are you going to keep waiting, find your treasure, and leave, regretting that you never shot your shot?”

“How about dinner then?” he asked hurriedly. “Tonight?”

You leaned closer, as if you were going to kiss him, and smiled at his sharp intake of breath. “Sounds perfect. But make sure Nikolai knows he’s not invited.”

“What? Why would you even--” he trailed off as you nodded your head to where the Russian was smirking at you both through the display window, flashing Ollie an approving gesture when he caught your gaze.

Ollie groaned, rolling his entire head dramatically, and you pressed your hand over your mouth to hold back a laugh.

“I’ll see you at seven, Sway,” you teased. “But for now, shoo, I’ve got more customers.”

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Taglist: @misskittysmagicportal (I doubt I’m going to write this character again, but let me know if you want to be tagged if I do)

#everyone else: I write for these Robert Sheehan characters #me: I write for...their best friends?#(this is not a dig at anyone but myself. For constantly falling into a predictable pattern of behavior like I don't expect it)#I should write an Alfie x Reader fic (since I sure as heck aint writing Malachy) and just round it out #fuck. I said it. Now it’s gonna happen...#anyway...enjoy!#Oliver Sway x Reader #Song of Sway Lake fic #fluff

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sweetwritertanya · 4 years

Text

Nothing To Be Jealous About (Yoongi)

Summary: You know something is wrong with Yoongi but you can’t quite understand what or why. When you two finally discuss it, turns out is something you didn’t even realize and it leads to quite an unexpected result.

Warnings: SMUT!! This was not supposed to be a smutty fic, but I kind of had this idea and… well, I just had to write it in this installment of the series. The final two should be just fluffy one-shots! Anyway, for this one be prepared for: swearing, mention of past insecurities of reader, erotic body touching, belly kink, grinding, unprotected sex (don’t do as I write, do as I say!), pulling out, missionary position, aftercare.

Word Count: 4010

You know something is wrong. In fact, you are more than sure of it. You just couldn’t quite figure out what, or why.

Yoongi is extremely quiet. More so than usual as he drives you two back to your place, after an evening with your friends at a birthday party. Eyes set on the road, radio turned on but with no reaction from him, jaw tense and moving from side to side every other time. The last time he even spoke to you was to tell you he was leaving, just announcing it instead of asking if you were ready to go like he usually did. He knew you depended on him to drive you home, so he always made sure you were ready to leave, enduring the social gathering for a bit longer than he would if not for you.

You pressed your lips together and couldn’t help the way your eyebrows pulled together with worry. Maybe he was mad at you for convincing him to come to the birthday party when he wouldn’t know anyone there. Even with the promise of staying with him all the time, not letting him be pushed to the side and ignored, something you refused to do no matter the circumstance, maybe he still felt left out. It was the only reason you could come up with for him to be mad at you.

As your apartment building came into view after a curve down the road, your heart hammered as you weren’t sure how to procced. When he pulled by the sidewalk, without turning the car’s engine off and waiting for you to take your seatbelt off, you knew it was serious.

“Yoongi…” you start to say as the seatbelt rides up your torso.

“Goodnight, Y/N. See you tomorrow” he dryly says, in a low voice barely audible over the radio. He still refuses to catch a glance your way.

Defeated and hurt, you just open the door and step out. You watch from the sidewalk as the car drives away, the increase of the distance only incrementing the worry in your heart. But you knew Yoongi. He needed his space and time to himself, to his own thoughts. Unfortunately, that meant all you could really do was wait.

Sure enough, the next day you woke up to a text message from him, wishing you a good morning and reminding you he would pick you up after work, before going for a long recording session at the studio. It was like nothing happened, the same old caring Yoongi. You pondered if you should just play along and let it go, but you knew it would bother you forever of you did.

Determined to get to the bottom of the issue, you sent a text back telling him you two would talk then and went on with your day.

You weren’t the only one who was nervous and just a little bit edgy about it all, and it showed. As soon as you saw Yoongi with his dark glasses on and a beanie over his straight light brown fringe, smiling awkwardly and even waving a hand from the driver’s seat, you could tell he was anxious too.

“Hi” you greet as you open the passenger’s door, returning the apprehensive smile.

“Hi, sugar cup. How was your day?”

He doesn’t lean in for a kiss, but that wasn’t unusual. Outside of the house, his affections would only go as far as holding hands or resting his hand on your waist, as well as the occasional cheek pecks. It wouldn’t be anything new for him to keep his loving welcome for when you two arrived home.

“Fine, same as always, really. How about you?” you ask back as the car starts moving, seatbelt on and leaning slightly towards him to contemplate his reactions.

“Woke up late and spent most of the morning working on a new beat. Then I went out with the guys to grab something to eat before coming here to pick you up. In about two hours I need to go back to the studio again.”

“I thought you were trying to sleep early? Get on a healthier sleep schedule?” Your concern shows on your forehead and pursued lips.

“Yeah, well…” he sighs. “I couldn’t really fall asleep last night. I was so restless and I didn’t even take a shower or nothing…”

He scratches his head beneath the grey beanie as he mentions this. You were wondering why he was wearing a beanie in the first place. Although it was getting colder, since autumn was right around the corner, it was still not nearly cold enough to wear such a warm accessory. In fact, you were even wearing a skirt and a stripped black and white t-shirt next to him, a light denim jacket on top and some white sneakers. Turns out he was only hiding his unwashed hair.

“Was it because of what happened yesterday?” you inquire softly.

“Hum? What? What are you talking about?” he avoids the subject, turning his head slightly to his window and, even with the sunglasses on, you were sure he was avoiding eye contact. His voice tone kind of raised an octave and his satoori accent came out, dragging out the vowels sluggishly, clear indications of his uneasiness.

“We should talk about it, Yoongi. What made you mad?” you continue, leaning in closer to him even as he kept squirming in his seat.

“Mad? I was never mad, I don’t know what you are talking about” he persists.

“Did… Did I do something wrong? Is that why you were angry at me?”

That seems to get a different reaction from him. His head snaps towards you, thin lips slightly open as he shakes his head, the right hand that was holding the steering wheel coming to rest on top of yours, above your knee.

“You did nothing wrong, sugar cup. Nothing wrong, I promise” he assured with absolute honesty in his clear voice.

“Talk to me?” You place your other hand on top of the one he had holding yours. “Please?”

His lips press together and he squeezes your hand before removing it since you two had arrived back at your home and he needed it to park the car.

“Let’s talk inside, okay?” he requests.

“Sure. I’ll even make you a homemade iced americano before you leave. You must be sweating in those clothes” you speculate, tugging at his beanie.

He chuckles, an honest one this time, and follows you after locking the car, up the stairs of your building to your floor and inside the small apartment.

“Let me start brewing the coffee so that is nice and fresh to drink. Go ahead and get comfortable.”

You move to the kitchen after leaving your bag and jacket on the coat rack by the front door. Turning on the coffee machine, you fill it with water before putting in the beans and pressing the button to pour into a carafe.

As you watch the dark warm liquid starting to pour, two delicate arms slowly wrap themselves around your soft middle, just beneath yours, Yoongi’s chest pressing to your back as he ducks his head into your shoulder. You smile and lean into the back hug, that comforting sense of belonging almost making you forget anything had happened at all.

“I don’t mind hanging out with your friends. I don’t mind going to parties as long as I’m with you by my side” he starts in a low whisper against the skin of your shoulder, hot breath sending tingles down your spine. “I do mind that a guy touched your belly.”

Frowning, you fight the instinct to turn around and look at him in confusion, knowing he would rather keep his expression hidden against your neck.

“What? A guy touched my belly?” the incredulity was evident in your voice, as you pulled through your memory of the day before, not quite remembering such a thing happening.

“When he accidently knocked into you. Before I could catch you, he steadied you with a hand on your stomach and kept it there while he apologized” he explained, mumbling with still a bit of resentment in the tone.

“Wait, was that it?” His words brought back the memory and you did recall the incident. It was an exchange that couldn’t have lasted longer than thirty seconds. “Is that why you said you were going home soon after? Are you…” The mere thought sounded ridiculous. “Are you jealous, Yoongi?”

He huffed and puffed in disregard of such a theory, and yet his arms grew tighter around you.

“Shush. That’s such a stupid thing to get jealous over” he murmured through his teeth. But he wasn’t quite denying it either. “I remember it took me about ten months, you know?”

You leaned your head to the side in question, to which he started pecking the newly available skin.

“For what?”

“For me to touch your belly. To see you without a shirt on” he elucidated further. “Even in bed, it took so long for me to convince you to take your top off during sex. I was denied so long of this beautiful fluffy stomach and now another man just comes around and grabs it like it’s nothing. You used to scrunch up when I did that.”

Finally understanding where he was coming from, you turn around and take his delicate round face he had been hiding in between your hands. Thick and darker eyebrows drawn together behind his long fringe, small and sharp ebony eyes looking heavy with lowered creased lids, thin dry lips pouting cutely. Even if he was not proud of it, knowing in fact it was a bit ridiculous, and even if he would never admit it, he was jealous.

He was right. It took you a long time to be comfortable enough with him to show all of your bountiful physique to him. You struggled to understand he was actually interested in dating you. You struggled with physical demonstrations of affection. You were scared of revealing too much of your body in front of him. In particular, your plush potbelly. But Yoongi was patient and kind and empathetic. He was a big part of the reason you were so much more confident in yourself now. And he was right. If this had happened last year, before you met Yoongi, you would have panicked and flinch as soon as your stomach was touched.

“Love, you have nothing to be jealous about. The only reason I’m so comfortable nowadays is you. Because of you and all of the patience you had with me. Because I love you and, for some reason, you love me. All of me, just as I am.”

The corners of his lips tug upwards in a small smile as he closes his eyes and bumps his forehead against yours, the thumbs of the hands settled at your wide hips soothing the skin over the fabric of your skirt at the same time yours soothed the skin of his cheeks.

“How about we just pretend this all thing never happened?” he proposed, more for his own sake than anything.

“Hmm, I don’ know… This was actually pretty revealing” you ponder, your hands going around his shoulders and starting to play with the short hairs at the nape of his neck. “Should I take this as a lesson and be a little more protective of my stomach around other guys? I wouldn’t really give it a second though before, but you seem to be very defensive of my belly.”

“It’s one of my favorite parts of you” he confesses, bumping his nose into yours playfully, a familiar smirk coming to his lips that you recognized.

“My belly? Really?” Your eyebrows shot straight up. That was news to you.

“Why do you think…” He interrupts his own sentence to land a short peck at your lips, making you giggle. “that I always ask you…” Another smooch. “to let me sleep on your belly?”

“I thought it was just a cute thing you do” you confess, leaning into him and tilting your head for another short kiss.

“You’re the cute one” he decides.

His lips caress yours lovingly in feathering meetings, mouths coming together once, twice, the count quickly lost as the kisses grew longer, deeper, passionate. His hands are all over your back and sides, pulling your closer to him, feeling your softness envelop him. Yours are grasping at his short hairs and stroking his shoulders and neck. The taste of mint with a hint of musk overpowers any other. He smelled of pine and myrrh.

Drunk by everything that made this magnificent man him, you don’t notice how he guides you across the room, your feet falling backwards as he pushes forward unknowingly. Living in a small one-bedroom apartment did have some advantages, namely the fact that the bedroom was never too far away. Before you knew it, the back of your knees hit the mattress of your bed and you fall with your back on the bouncy item.

You have barely any time to process the evolution of the circumstances for soon Yoongi was hoovering above you with his mouth sucking and licking at your neck and shoulders, hands relishing in the expanse of your legs and hips.

“Show me, sweetums.” He whispers hotly in your ear before leaning back just enough for you to see his dark, veiled with list eyes and pinkish cheeks. “Take your clothes off and show me all. Just for me. Only me.”

Gulping, your lift yourself up enough to reach his mouth and kiss him avidly, wondrously, guiding him up with lips still attached until he was sat on the bed. You broke the kiss only to attend to his request, standing up and pulling the zipper of your skirt down and forcing the fabric down your hips until it pooled next to your feet. You had simple white cotton panties underneath, but Yoongi didn’t seem to mind. Grabbing the hem of your t-shirt with both hands, you pulled the stretchy fabric over your head in one go, letting it fall alongside the skirt on the floor. The nude bra you had on and the panties was all the clothing you had left on your curvaceous body. And Yoongi was drinking it all in.

“My beautiful Y/N…” he hums, stretching his arms in an invitation for you to come closer as he sat at the edge of the bed.

As soon as they could, hands grasp your love handles and pull your bulky frame in, Yoongi’s mouth starting a hot and wet trail of kisses on your luscious tummy. His tenderness and devotion magnify the butterflies at the pit of your stomach by a thousand, this scorching wave of affection and love enveloping your heart and hazing your brain. You hold on to Yoongi’s shoulders to keep you standing straight as he keeps the caresses over your belly, with his eyes closed in bliss and greedy hands restless. The feeling of his black t-shirt bothers you, since all you wanted was his naked skin under yours, so you pull at the fabric and he moves back with arms up just enough for you to take off his shirt for him. Your hands could now stroke his soft pale skin directly as he continued the caresses on your middle.

Open-mouthed kisses suddenly turn into raspberry kisses that tickle your skin and make you laugh and push back, only for him to pull you back to the bed, your feet dangling over the edge as he lays on top of you. You sigh with pleasure as his mouth keeps kissing at your tingling skin, feeling the way Yoongi’s finger sink in crevices between the rolls of flesh, only to then knead at the fluffiness.

His mouth bites at the bump of flesh of your lower belly and you gasp not in pain but in surprise, for he had never done that before. He soothes the denting mark he left with his tongue while his hands searched around your back for the hook of the bra. Soon that garment is gotten rid of, his mouth moving slowly but surely up your abdominal area until it reaches the valley between your breasts.

“This… This is another favorite” he says against your feverish skin, just before his hands cup your tits and his mouth envelops one of your sensitive nipples.

“Y-Yoongi!” you exhale with a shudder, a particular strong rush of lust shooting straight to your core.

The tongue is merciless against the puckered nub, swirling around it, flicking it from side to side and up and down, mouth sucking on it and tongue flattening against it. The neglected hard nub is soon joining the torturous pleasure as his hand teases it just as much, thumb brushing it constantly and fingers pulling and tweaking.

The hands you have running down his back are leaving red trails on the skin in reaction to his ministrations, your hips starting to bucker up and brushing against the slim leg he has in between yours. The white cotton was already stained with your obvious need for more.

Desperately, your hands rummage around for his belt and start undoing the clasp, soon followed by the top button of his dark jeans and, finally, the zipper. You felt it as soon as you started to undo the button, the burgeoning stiffness of his cock, constricted by the fabric of the trousers. Pulling them down, the swollen member sprung completely up, tenting his black boxers.

“So eager, my Y/N” he notices, leaving your chest to lift himself up and level his eyes with yours. “So perfect.”

Lips clamping yours, you are taken by surprise when you feel him pull his boxers down just enough to release his throbbing erection and start rubbing it against your protruding tummy. You moan and grunt with building frustration as your womb clenches around nothing, the length you so much craved for grinding over the top of where your uterus would be.

Yoongi is all pants and silent grunts as he rubs his dick alongside the rolls of flesh, hissing every time the swollen tip would get caught in between the bumps, sinking into the heavenly warm skin as if in a tight hug. His hips are snapping against your belly almost of their own will, his face now crimson red hidden in your neck, where he leaves more kissed and bites of love.

“Oh, please, Yoongi!” you breathe out, clawing at his shoulder blades.

“What do you want, sweetums?” he asks, in the softest whispers against your ear, the movement of his hips coming to an almost full stop against your stomach.

“Yoongi!” you call in irritation. He knew damn well what you wanted.

“I wanna hear you say it. Say what you want from me, spell it out” he demands, kissing and sucking at your pulsing point, aggravating your already excruciating problem.

“I want you. I want you to fuck me, want your cock in me, deep and fast, please, Yoongi!” It all comes out so fast it could barely be called a proper sentence, but he understood it well enough to smirk against the skin of your neck.

“Such a good girl” he praises.

Holding himself up with one arm and lowering himself down, Yoongi takes himself in hand and slowly grinds his tip in between your puffy folds, opening them up and revealing the sticky mess he created. You watch as his body shudders without noticing how your own trembled and how your hips twitched at the first contact. Without warning, Yoongi positions himself in line with your entrance and yanks his hips forward, a blissful sting of stretch making you hiss before a guttural moan leaves your open lips.

He stills just for a moment, just enjoying the feeling just as much as you were, before the pounding started.

Just like you asked, he was going deep and fast, leaning down and holding his weight in his forearms as he kept himself on his knees, creating enough leverage to ram into you profoundly. He filled you up perfectly with each thrust, each drag of his staff against your inner walls resulting in a release of relief that was both immensely satisfying and still not enough. He kept sliding back almost all the way out only to plunge back in with force, in and out, in and out, and every time he bottomed out his bushy pelvic bone rubbed against you and triggered that fleshy button in between your pink and glistening with arousal lips.

“Ahh!... Ahh!... I’m… I…”

You couldn’t form a sentence, you were sure you couldn’t even spell out his name or yours at that point, the fever spreading from your womb so severe it was melting your brain. Yoongi rolled forwards in his knees and somehow managed to speed up even more, repeatedly and almost continuously pushing his cock against that particularly sensitive pad of nerves inside your squelching tunnel, sending sparks all over your body and that was it.

You scream out as you cum, hips writhing against him and body convulsing as your hands scraped at his back, the tension in your core secreting to your whole body before crashing down in sharp pleasure that made you dizzy.

Yoongi as slowed down to watch as you reach your orgasm, the way your skin gleamed with a thin layer of sweat, face scrunched up, eyes shut close and delicious lips opened up always incredibly beautiful in his eyes. He wanted to follow you, the stinging kindle with each throb of his staff incredibly painful.

He started to move again, aching hard and leaking, your walls closing around him tight and snug. But still, something was holding him back.

“Fuck… Y/N, I… I need… need!” he struggles to speak, each word coming out in a heavy pant as he kept thrusting with his eyes closed.

Taking his face in hand and kissing his chopped lips, you whisper into his ear.

“Do whatever you need, Yoongi. I’m all yours to use” you allow.

That seems to do it for him. The thrusts grow sloppy and erratic, Yoongi’s jaw tense as he grunts deeply and just as you felt the first twitch of his cock inside, he pulls out, takes his length in hand and jerks himself off feverously while white strings of seed paint your belly. He moans softly as he watched his seed taint your skin.

“There” he exhales, relief evident in his voice. “Mine.”

Even though he was clearly exhausted, Yoongi doesn’t allow himself to lay down next to you just yet. You watch him disappear into the bathroom and coming out with a wet warm towel that he uses to clean up the mess he made. Careful strokes clean your stomach and the sheet beneath you, where drops had already fallen. You smile and hum with heavy eyes as you watch him, the man you love so much caring for you so deeply.

“I can’t stay with you because I’m needed in the studio. If I wasn’t, I would draw a bath for you” he explains in a matter of apologizing.

“It’s okay, love. I can do it myself” you assure. “Oh, let me get that iced coffee ready before you go!”

You try to get up and return to the kitchen, looking around for a t-shirt you could put on just around the house, but Yoongi stops you by pulling you in for a kiss. One of his hands rest on your thigh and another at your back, as you end up sited next to him.

He doesn’t say it, he always had trouble saying it on his own. But you don’t mind saying it first.

“I love you, Yoongi. I’m glad we could talk about all of this.”

He smiles and the hand on your thigh comes up to cup your cheek as he looks at you adoringly.

“I love you too.”

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