#and the wording is like. ''rain gold and silver on me'' or something like that? which is why all of the dangly bits in that design | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whatifyoulivelikethat · 10 months

Text

(seven) days a week, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: It only takes seven days (a week) for Jeon Jungkook to get you in his bed to fuck you right. And showing up in weird places. And kissing in the rain. He's crazy. Okay, it's kinda complicated.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language (reader swears a lot); strangers-to-lovers; vague allusions to a loveless childhood and bad parenting (no specifics); JK might be insane and you do tell him that he is; slight crack; fluff; smut (fem reader, fucking with clothes on and off, m and f-receiving oral, light hair pulling, fingering, nipple play, choking, penetrative sex, handjob); non-idol!BTS – persistent!Jungkook x noona, def tsundere!reader lol ft instigator-cupid!Park Jimin setting them up

this directly follows Jung Kook's 'Seven' MV, so make sure to watch it (although I'm sure you've seen it if you wanna read this lmao)

monday.

“What? Something on my face?”

You stared at him and he stared back. Wide eyes, slightly parted lips, the look of caught prey and all. You had your hands in front of you, long fingers laced together, elbows on the table. You probably shouldn’t have scowled like that. That was a bit rude, especially to someone you didn’t know well, but this guy had been staring at you all night and barely speaking to you, even when prompted, so you were getting both impatient and annoyed at accepting this invitation.

“You wear… a lot of jewelry,” Jeon Jungkook said out loud, with awe.

You looked down at your hands. Well. The rings, the bracelets, even the earrings on both your ears, all sterling silver or white gold. You had even swapped out the lower lobe piercing for a pair of dangling dice earrings with grey freshwater pearls. You liked the cooler tone to bring some death to your warm-toned skin.

“Yeah. Is that a problem?” Your low voice had an edge of guarded to it.

A quick, nervous head shake. “No. No, it’s cool. I’ve never seen a girl wear so many chunky rings like that. I didn’t think I’d like it either, but then I saw you.”

You opened your mouth to snap out a comeback and then his words hit you.

There was no doubt that Jeon Jungkook was cute. Black-brown hair with a lustrous quality. Bright, expressive dark brown eyes. Slightly rounded cheeks with a distinct jawline. He said he had, and you could see, tattoos and piercings, something you quite liked but not a requirement. Built body, in the way that people where when they were committed to taking care of their physical appearance. Not so much in vanity, but in the way that matched how they felt that they should look in their head. Respect for that. But, in this chance that was what you had expected to be his, Jungkook didn’t taken it.

He looked the part.

Didn’t act it, though.

Black blazer, matching trousers. White t-shirt. Dressy but not too much. To be honest, the outer appearance didn’t matter much to you. It actually mattered the least. You wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Really. You were often told that you had too little patience for people, but, come on!

This conversation was awkward.

Hah.

You turned as you sensed a lively presence re-entering your icy atmosphere. Hmph. The actor playing Cupid in the instance. He looked the part too. Baby blue dress shirt with the top buttons undone. Ivory slacks, neatly pressed. Black hair perfectly curled over his forehead, framing an angelic face. Full lips forming an infectious smile that made his eyes disappear as small hands folded away the receipt and tucked his card back into his wallet.

“Ah, the waitress and I had a cute little chat,” flirty Park Jimin chuckled, giving you a little eyebrow wiggle. You rolled your eyes at him. “Did you guys have a nice talk while I was gone?”

“Um…?” Jungkook started, nearly afraid to glance at you for some support.

You gave Jimin a deadpan stare. “You trying to get her number?”

“Me? No, no!” he waved his hands, sitting back down to lean in. “She gave it to me anyway though.”

Figures Park Jimin would introduce you to a guy and also get the number of someone else in the restaurant. You deliberately hadn’t answered Jimin’s question, but he hadn’t noticed.

Jungkook, however, did.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him deflate a little and you winced in unease, not sure if you should have avoided it, but at this point the waitress had returned, lashes aflutter and gushing about how they just had to try to fried ice cream and it was on the house, as long as Jimin promised to come back, right? Right?

Jimin promised of course, of course, with a big smile.

You completely ignored him and picked up one of the pieces of fried ice cream – mango, it seemed, by the color – and placed it on one of the small plates before setting it right in front of Jungkook.

He perked up and gave you these big, hopeful eyes.

You didn’t say anything but felt your cheeks flush and your gaze shift, putting on an expression of reluctant apology. After a half second, you bowed your head just a bit, shaking off the moment and serving yourself before serving Jimin.

What?

Damn flirt didn’t even notice.

tuesday.

“You didn’t like him?”

“I mean, there’s nothing to like or dislike. He barely said anything. Also, Jimin, I told you, I’m not really a relationship person,” you sighed into your phone, walking quickly to the train station. “I don’t want to give this guy the wrong idea about me. He didn’t really strike me as a fuck-around-and-find-out kinda guy.”

“You said you would change your mind for the right person though.”

Sometimes you thought Jimin argued with you just to argue.

“Yeah, and I don’t even know what kind of person he is because he didn’t say shit,” you barked back to that snippy tone on the other side of the line. Some idiot honked at you and you resisted the urge to flip him the bird. Maybe he wasn’t honking at you. The hanging out the window and catcalling could be to the couple walking next to you.

You highly doubted it.

Also, maybe you just wanted to give someone the middle finger because you couldn’t show Jimin right now how much you deeply appreciated him.

“Jungkookie’s just super shy, but wait a minute and he’ll make you his.”

You rolled your eyes. Damn bad habit that you were forming ever since you became friendly with this mildly infuriating angel. “He’s not making me do anything.”

“I’m telling you; he suits you perfectly. You’re being stubborn and not giving him a chance. Anyway, I gave him your number, so don’t worry!”

“Wait, you did wha–”

The roar of the subway train below cut you off.

“Oop, you’re at the station. You’re breaking up! Can’t hear you, byeeeeeee!”

You twitched as Park Jimin hung up on you.

Asshole.

You pulled your phone away from your ear and pulled up the app to pay for your ticket. Paused for a second. New message, unknown number. Then it was your turn, so you hovered your phone screen, heard the beep, and hurried to the correct train line, finding the one to take you home. It was hectic even now, still within the dregs of rush hour, so you didn’t even think to check for the content of the text until you sat down with a big sigh, somewhat of a fwump with your distressed bomber jacket and baggy cargo pants, both made of thick black fabric. The side of your jacket slid off, exposing your bare shoulder and tight white tank top.

The guy standing about a meter away from you snuck a glance in your direction.

You tucked your tongue in your cheek and yanked your jacket back in place with the hand that was holding your phone. Noticed the screen flash, reminding you of the notification.

Fuck it.

Pressed your thumb and your phone unlocked.

Hey, it’s me. Jeon Jungkook… I wanted to say that I’m sorry about not talking that much last night. I was really nervous because you were so pretty and self-assured. I was so impressed that nothing I could think of seemed like a good thing to say, so I blanked out. I’m very sorry. I hope it is okay for me to text you like this.

An essay.

You paused for so long that you felt your cheeks heat.

The fuck?

You frowned at yourself. For some reason, even though he hadn’t talked much, you could hear the text in your head as if Jungkook was speaking to you directly. Sense the anxiousness in the typed words. See those big eyes gazing right at you with a mixture of curiosity and wonder and what-ifs. You sighed, feeling defeated. It would simply be rude to not reply.

I apologize for being too intimidating.

You sent it before thinking. Aw, shit. That was a bit short, wasn’t it? Damnnit. You saw the sending quadlet of dots spinning slowly, struggling due to you being underground. Fuck. If you sent another message now, it might be out of order and that would just get confusing. And what else could you add? Oh, geez, you didn’t even confirm it was you. The conversation with Park Jimin must have scrambled your egg brains.

The train roared out of the tunnel.

All of a sudden, the message sent and a reply instantly popped up. Actually, a serious of bubbles, rapid-fire like bullets. The confirmation must have lagged.

You’re not intimidating at all! Well… not in a bad way. In a sexy way. I mean, in a good way! In a cool way, like you’re not afraid to say what you wanna say. I really admire that in a person, so I really admire that in you. Sorry, that was weird, wasn’t it? I made things weird… ㅠ.ㅠ

You blinked slowly at the messages. It was pretty clear Jungkook had sat there and pondered over the first message for quite a while and these subsequent ones were stream of consciousness spewing. Honestly, kind of funny. Heh. You could sort of imagine it. Maybe he hadn’t expected you to respond right away. Hm, you wondered if he had hoped you would. He really was trying hard, huh. For what? What was the reason?

You tucked your tongue in your cheek and responded anyway.

Oh, you’re definitely weird, but you never know. I might like that. What’s the outfit of the day, Jeon Jungkook?

Were you fishing for a photo? Of course. He would probably scramble to put on a good outfit to impress you. To your surprise, the downloading image icon popped up instantaneously, spinning, spinning. You tilted your head, surprised at the prompt obedience. He must have snapped a pic right away when you asked. It was taking time to load though. You saw some people getting off the train and looked up, checking the stop. Oh, yours was next.

You took care not to look directly at anyone around you, keeping your sling bag in your lap.

Then you looked down to the inquisitive dark brown eyes of Jeon Jungkook with messy black hair and a black leather jacket. White t-shirt. It was a selfie, so you couldn’t see the pants. It was something borderline vain about the angle, but also a seek of approval in that parted mouth, silver ring and stud dotting the edge of the right side, flash of white teeth and slight bite of the left side revealing a small mole at the center underneath his lower lip.

You twitched.

Bold, wasn’t he?

You weren’t sure if you liked it – well, you didn’t mind it, you just weren’t sure if you like-liked it, what was he trying to play at here, trying to get your heart to beat fast or something, hmph – and you clutched your phone pointedly, your rings clacking as you prepped your fingers to type back… something, be honest here… and your fingers wavered.

Shaking a little.

You let out a breath you hadn’t known you had been holding.

Oh, the pants are blue jeans, but I’m out right now so there’s no mirror to show you.

You heard your stop being called and stood up automatically, filing behind other people getting ready to step off, the train slowing down, everything slowing down, finding yourself staring at Jungkook’s expression in the photo, why were you staring, shifting your eyes quickly, then back, it wasn’t like Jeon Jungkook could see you, ugh, this was so annoying.

Do you want to see? I can take another photo when I get home.

You let out a frustrated exhale that no one else around you could understand. Maybe not even those closest to you would get it. But you knew what it meant, and knowing also frustrated you.

Being self-aware was a bitch.

You finally sent your answer.

I much prefer this look on you than the blazer. Is this your normal fashion style?

You had worn a flowing white blouse and floaty black skirt the night before at dinner, but it was not your typical style. Well, it was, but it was one of your work outfits since you had come straight from the office. Something you wore to not get in trouble with the dress code and knowing you would have to meet up with people later. Sometimes you were a little riskier if you were feeling frisky, but Jimin had told you to look nice for the friend he was introducing you to.

But maybe it would have been better to look more you.

Then again, the restaurant was pretty high end. They might not have let you in.

Oh. Yeah. Hahaha, I wore the blazer because Jimin-ssi told me to look nice for you. I guess this is street-style? I don’t know… I’m not fashionable, I only wear what I think is cool or comfy. What about you?

You strode out of the train and briskly walked to the elevator, muscle memory already knowing where to go, typing back. Pausing when you saw the vending machine. A green tea would be nice right now.

You veered off course and headed to stand in line.

I think my friends would describe my style as dark and strong. They’re always telling me I should dress more feminine or at least in less black, but one of my core traits is not listening to shit people say. And swearing.

You tapped your card and made your selection. Waited out the whirr and clunk. Didn’t pay much attention to the world around you. It was a typical day, people passing by, no warning feelings. And, besides, your phone was much more interesting right now.

You did not just think that.

You scowled at your reflection in the glass of the vending machine before picking up your drink.

I hope I get to see you sometime soon so I can appreciate it. :)

You raised an eyebrow at your phone as you ticked open the can and started walking again, taking a crisp sip. It was slightly irritating that he was better at flirting over text than in person. Or maybe it had just been the circumstance. Come to think of it, it would have been weird if he did with Jimin right there, although you were sure Jimin wanted to be there to witness whatever unfolded. The awkwardness was probably just as entertaining to him as it would be if Jungkook had been more forward.

Hmph.

What was more irritating was that you weren’t instantly annoyed by it.

Hmmmmph.

Are you saying you aren’t intimidated by me, Jeon Jungkook?

You hurried home, following the streetlights, breathless, not because you were running, but because you wanted to be home so you could be alone with…

I’m saying I like feeling your effect on me in person.

Him.

wednesday.

The next time you saw Jeon Jungkook, you were groaning and setting your forehead on the edge of washing machine, screaming internally. Would have banged it against the metal if you weren’t going to lose a substantial number of brain cells. You were going to pay cash because you wouldn’t get that card surcharge if you did but, of course, of course you had accidentally shorted yourself and pocketed the wrong amount.

Fuck!

Now you were already at the laundromat. Walk back home and lug your shit to and back to get the right amount? Or just forget it and pay the extra charge? You had already put the detergent in. Fuckity fuck fuck. Technically you could go home, it wasn’t that far, but, ugh, it was extra annoying today because you had slept late and now you were grumpily doing your life responsibilities. Come back a different day? No, you had specifically told yourself to get off your ass and get that pile washed. Damnnit, if you hadn’t slept late and scrambled your egg brains, this wouldn’t have happened!

But you had been talking to Jeon Jungkook.

Ending the conversation had been more difficult than you expected. You gritted your teeth, feeling stupid for pulling such a teenage move. Still young, huh? Young and stupid.

Grr.

You heard the metal slide of the money drawer being closed and then an approval ping!

You jumped back, freaked out at the thing you hadn’t done, and then snapped your head to the sudden presence next to you. Dark blue jeans with giant holes at the knees. Gray hoodie sliding off a built right shoulder. White ribbed tank top. Messy black hair. A piercing, no, two on the right side of open lips.

Big, round, dark brown eyes.

You noticed he was wearing a few silver rings himself.

“Um… hi? I noticed you were short a little so I just…” Jeon Jungkook trailed off, giving you a hopeful look.

You gawked at him.

“What are you doing here?”

Ouch. A little too snappy. Jungkook faltered, those peepers shifting. “Ah… well…”

You bit your tongue and reeled it back. “Sorry. I didn’t expect to see you, is all. Obviously, you came here to wash your clothes like everyone else.”

He reached up and scratched the back of his head nervously. Wait. Why was he looking at you like that?

“W-Well, actually… Jimin-ssi told me you normally come here on Wednesdays to do laundry and I was nearby so I figured., maybe, I’d just check if you were here…”

You stared at him.

“You’re stalking me?”

“N-No!” Jungkook sputtered, waving his hands frantically even though you hadn’t raised your voice.

There was a bristle to your tone though. Indignation and frigidity you couldn’t hide. You frowned, narrowing your eyes, cornering him with your gaze. There were only a few people on this slow day, which was why you picked Wednesday to do laundry, but all the patrons had AirPods or other earbuds in, busying themselves with their shoving of clothing in and out of the washers and dryers. No one was going to interrupt anyway.

Not their business.

“I… I…”

“And how did you recognize me anyway? My head was down,” you remembered, advancing on him, and Jungkook took a step back, swallowing hard. Your outfit was baggy too, dark denim jacket and jeans, the tight black tank hidden by the bulk.

“I couldn’t forget how beautiful your hair is,” he mumbled out quickly, looking a little too mesmerized by your fierceness. Forget that. “And your hands were on the edge of the washer. Your rings. The star chain bracelet you wear. I…”

He was fixated on your collarbones and the thin black choker around your neck.

Or lower.

“Oi! My face is up here,” you hissed, snaping your fingers and making him jerk his head. He had stopped backing up though. You pointed at him, somewhat rudely. Actually, very rudely, but whatever. “What do you mean, check if I was here? And who told you? That idiot. I’ll kill him.”

And why was Jungkook looking at you like that?

Like he thought you were hot when angry.

He better stop that shit because you were losing your irate demeanor for some fuckin’ reason.

“I texted you almost all night. That wasn’t enough?” you half-growled, half whispered.

A tiny head shake.

Ah, shit.

You deliberately did not think that was cute.

“I liked it so much that I…” Oh no, oh no, not that honest tremble and deep gaze into your eyes. “I was hoping I could talk to you again, in person, more bravely this time.”

You opened your mouth to sink in that verbal bite and nothing came out.

The entire laundromat could flood right now and you wouldn’t even notice because you were staring at Jeon Jungkook and wondering if this audacity was freaking annoying or freaking impressive. Not this damn guy within two days leaving you speechless. Well… actually, no, never mind the technicalities.

“Are you even thinking before you do things?” you grumbled, not yet backing down.

Jungkook stuck his hands in his hoodie pockets suddenly. Hm? Nervous and shaking? You couldn’t tell, but you watched him closely, observing his body language, your eyes following those lines.

“Mmmm…” He bit the left side of his lower lip. “No?”

You strongly resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

Shy smile greeting you, accompanying the lip bite.

“I’m just listening to my heart.”

Now you visibly cringed. “Don’t say stuff like that.” Looking away slightly, somehow unable to meet those honest eyes.

“Why? You don’t like it?” Genuinely curious.

“You don’t mean it.” He did mean it and you could see that he meant it but you did not want to admit that you knew that he meant it. Yeah. “You barely know me. We only talked over text.”

“But you gave me thoughtful, frank answers. I don’t believe that you were being dishonest,” Jungkook protested, following you over to the tables a few steps away from the washing machines. You dragged your laundry bag with you and kept your voice down.

“I told you, I’m a straightforward an honest person. I won’t lie to you. And I won’t hesitate to cut you off if you lie to me,” you reminded him.

He nodded. You wanted to shake him and yell at him to stop giving you those eyes. “So I just decided to do what I wanted to.”

You cocked your head at him in disbelief. “You didn’t think you went too far?”

What was with that mischievous smile? “I’m the all-in type.”

You let out a puff of air.

“Also, you haven’t told me directly that you don’t like it,” Jungkook pointed out, leaning toward you, smiling.

You gave him a deadpan stare. “You don’t get me,” you said back flatly.

Those dark brown orbs sparkled. “That’s okay. I don’t have to get you to think you’re cool, clever, and stunning.”

Your eyebrow twitched.

“And why do you say that? Because you see how people look at me? Because you enjoyed my useless facts and tangents last night? Because you think with your dick?” You added the last question with bite, leaning forward too, having enough of this, not really him but…

The fact that you didn’t want to tell him to fuck right off.

Silence.

Jungkook was staring into your eyes.

“The shape of your eyes is so… perfect.”

You felt your ears heat.

He raised a finger and traced the air right in front of your left eye, the scent of his clean cologne drifting in your direction. “The way they sharpen in the inner corner, like a bird of prey… And your irises are so dark and striking…”

You grabbed his finger out of the air.

“Don’t be… weird.”

Why did you pause? Hello? No way you’re being like this over this guy right now.

You pointedly pulled his hand down, pinning it to the table. “Pay attention.”

Jungkook was giving you this dreamy, hazy expression. “Huh? What were you saying?”

You narrowed your eyes. “You can’t even listen.”

He leaned in closer and you caught a whiff of that delicious cologne again. “Sorry. I will. Say it again, please. I’ll listen carefully.”

The fuck were you saying again? The lights of the old laundromat flickered but you barely noticed. A common occurrence in these ol’ mom-and-pop places. And, besides, you were staring at this determined, patient smile and mentally shoving down those butterflies that you definitely weren’t feeling, nope, violently compacting those distracting internalizations into a tiny, windowless box.

“You don’t seem very good at listening,” you finally said, tight and even.

“I am,” he insisted softly. “I promise.”

“I’m too much for you.”

Or was Jungkook too much for you?

“I’m offering all of me,” he whispered to the shared air between you and him. “It might not be enough so I’ll be to work hard and do my best.”

What was he so earnest for? You hesitated, the edges to your hard demeanor softening. You didn’t want to trust stuff like this. It was so easy to get burned and you wanted to be the one to do the burning. And how could you trust people? Even you didn’t say everything out loud. Some things you could say and some you couldn’t say. It was too much trouble to believe in someone.

You had never received unburdened kindness when you were younger.

“We’re not on the same page.”

Jungkook tilted his head. “Aren’t we? But you’re reading me easily and I’m doing my best to learn about you too.”

Your shoulders released the tension. “Don’t pretend with me. It’s clear you’re a relationship kind of guy. And, while I’m not against them, I can’t deliver the same kind of devotion you are willing to give. Can’t you see that?” You removed your hand from his, not realizing it was still there.

His fingertip traced a line on the back of your hand.

Sparks raced along the base of your head.

You remained stern, feeling heavy and hot in your clothes.

“Why do you say that? You don’t think you’re loyal?” he asked very sincerely.

Your eyes narrowed. “Of course, I am. If I like you in that way and you asked me to bury a body, I’d already be digging the grave. But I’m not a flowers-and-chocolate kind of girl. That’s not how I show affection.”

You had no idea how far your clothes were in the cycle. The whole world could crash down and you would still be staring at Jungkook and his body language. His shoulders slouched a little more so he could look up at you with those pleading eyes.

Inhale still in your throat.

“Then, do you not like me?”

Say something.

But you didn’t say anything at all, gazing down at Jeon Jungkook and wondering why you couldn’t get through his thick skull that you were a bad decision. Honestly? Honestly, fine, it was because you grew up with parents that never liked each other nor their kids. Honestly, it was because you grew up too fast and with too much independence to not see the filthiness of the world. Honestly, it was because you saw the finicky innate nature of humanity of never devoting themselves to anything, much less anyone, and why would they?

People were crazy.

Call it personal experience.

You sighed.

“Jungkook, I’m not gonna lie to you. I fuck before I care about anybody. I’m only living to get my pleasure and not take care of anyone, okay? I’m barely keeping my own head together. I’m blunt. I don’t need or want romantic gestures. I just want dick. There. I’m not a good person.”

He was smiling.

Aw, shit.

“I must be favored to know you.”

You twitched, tucking your tongue in your cheek to avoid scowling, which was pretty much scowling anyway, so you failed spectacularly.

“Also, you haven’t said you don’t like me,” Jungkook pointed out. Infuriatingly. “Because it’s not true and you don’t lie. Right?” He said your name with a little too much sweetness and knowing.

You yanked your hand out of his and shoved his hard, muscular chest. He bounced back, grinning a little too happily. You told yourself to hate it and you didn’t. Fuck. “What are you even still doing here? Gonna fold my clothes for me or something?”

The energy at being offered a household chore was disturbing. “Oh! I can! I’m very good at doing laundry. And washing dishes. And cleaning. I like doing that stuff.”

“Sure, you do,” you puffed sarcastically,

“I do,” Jungkook insisted, coming around the table. “And I’m good at it.”

You scrutinized him up a down. “Yeah? Because you don’t know where else to put all that energy of yours?”

His lips parted but all he did was gawk at you. Oop. Right on the money. You were liking this expression a little too much. Maybe it was time to lower these walls a bit. After all, it didn’t seem like Jungkook was going to go away any time soon. He was pretty harmless anyway.

“I could drain you in a night,” you chuckled, smirking.

The tips of his ears were getting red at your lowered tone.

“You think you could keep up?”

thursday.

Ugh, it was one of those days that fuckin’ suuuucked.

Woke up late and had to rush to get dressed and bounce, then got to work and some shit was going down about missing documents and people moving papers they shouldn’t have, forcing you to play manager because everyone else had no goddamn spine to fix anything. This department would be a disaster without you. To top it all off, you had people stalling, keeping an irrelevant conversation going, leading you on a wild goose chase with no funny honking – turns out the documents were in some random copier right behind you, for fuck’s sake – and you had a very strong inkling it was because of what you looked like.

Which was fine.

Unless you were actually trying to do your job.

Then, one of your side dishes you had brought for lunch had gone off, so you ended up slightly less full than you wanted to be, and you forgot your jacket at work, leaving it hanging on the back of your chair in your rush to leave, and the train halted several stations before your stop because there was some emergency maintenance or some shit.

Fuckity fuck.

It wouldn’t be so annoying it if wasn’t so windy, but it was and you were wearing a sheer sweater with splashes of jewel-toned colors and a longline black sports bra under it – you had worn your jacket half-zipped until your boss had left in the middle of the day and your co-workers didn’t care how you looked, the dress code was stupid anyway – and black jeans, mid-rise. The rules were more about being covered up rather than being professionally dressed.

The job was primarily sitting at a desk and sorting documents, did it matter how you looked?

Or maybe you just broke the rules a little because you were a rebel.

Your stomach growled angrily and you told it to shut the fuck up.

You stood on the corner halfway between work and home, debating on whether or not to do some damage. The problem was you didn’t have any of the usual bad habits most people had. You didn’t drink, so getting stupid drunk and getting thrown out of the noraebang was out of the question. Also, you couldn’t sing. But, anyway, you barely took medicine, let alone know where or how to procure the illegal fun stuff, so that was also out. You didn’t have a sweet tooth either so you couldn’t down a whole cake with gusto, although that sounded like a great way to go.

You sulked.

You had an addiction, but you just stared at the names in your phone and felt guilty. Guilty! For what? For some guy you met literally less than four days ago? Ugh, no, this couldn’t be you right now. Seriously? Seriously? You crossed and stalked up the block, not yet deciding what to do so you kept walking until you figured it out during this internal battle. You had to keep this guy at a distance. Okay, yes, you could admit you liked him.

And that was the problem.

If you didn’t really like him, you could just fuck him and establish those hard boundaries. No issue. You had been in love before but that was a long time ago and ultimately you ended it because it wasn’t right and you weren’t good enough to be devoted to.

You breathed out hard, the unease spilling out of your insides.

It was definitely easier to not expect anything from anyone. You had spent a lot of life not having and, ultimately, not needing to rely on others, both out of necessity and simply having too much to work on by yourself. Years of fighting off bitterness that you had always tasted, years of letting go of important moments realizing that supposedly important people in your life would never be there for them, years of lashing out and becoming the shadow of the abuse you endured. Eye for an eye and all that. Keep the cycle going, until you had that moment in the eye of the storm to get hit by lightning and realize that this wasn’t right.

It wasn’t any particular thing.

Just finally accepting the creeping self-awareness that you had been miserable and were making other people miserable on purpose because you tore them open and took their hearts to find yours.

Metaphorically, duh.

So now you sort of did this martyr shit of being there for people when you could and not asking for anything back. Especially not a relationship. Intimate to heal a heart and then give it away, which totally worked if they weren’t into you, just into what you could do.

You didn’t really feel it yourself but you did get sex out of it.

Bad addiction, yeah.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket.

You ignored it.

Stepped into a chicken place and stood in line, feeling the weight of your world on your shoulders. You brain tried to reason with you that it was Jeon Jungkook’s own fault if he got hurt. He was the one who chose to spend all that time sitting at the laundromat with you talking about random shit. Your favorite video game – Persona 5, excelling in your top three most important things about a video game: music score, gameplay, and art style. Your favorite American rapper – Ludacris and the way he could rhyme the weirdest words. Your favorite movie genre – surrealist psychedelic drug movies, which earned you a confused head tilt. You had asked Jungkook what he liked. Mood lamps. Singing. Watching cooking videos on YouTube.

Had asked him if he believed in soulmates.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket as you ordered at the kiosk and paid.

You don’t think I could have met you in another life?

You stood with the other waiting patrons, ignoring everybody and your phone thrumming against your hip, thinking about last night.

I probably broke your heart.

Thinking about that smile with two piercings and a lip mole. That smile didn’t trust your answer at all.

Maybe the universe is giving me another chance to make up for my past mistakes. I can’t give up.

You made a face at past Jungkook’s answer, too taken aback all those hours ago to scowl properly. Maybe you had been too tired. Too worn down by his earnest nonsense to fight it properly at that moment. Your hand hovered over you hip, wondering if you should check it. Then dropped.

What, did you need to see him every day or something?

Your name was called and you stepped up to receive your order.

Oh, fuck, you miss him.

You yanked your phone out of your pocket and stared at it as you walked out of the restaurant, only to get plopped by a fat raindrop on the lit-up screen. You looked up to the gray sky and let out a hiss.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

You turned around and sat down, grumbling as rain poured down and you replied to Jungkook’s texts.

Stupid.

Not him. Just you.

friday.

“What are you trying so hard for?” you snapped.

“Why aren’t you trying hard enough?” Jeon Jungkook shot back.

It was going really well.

Clearly.

You let out a hiss and flicked your hands as if you were trying to physically get rid of his reply. Argh, this… man! The thundering rain was pouring down, down, and you were both standing under a bus stop with no intention of taking the bus. You bit back the volume of your sudden anger. There was no need to yell anyway. No one was coming out in the thick of this monsoon.

Only you and crazy-ass Jeon Jungkook.

Switched tactics. "And what makes you think your virgin ass–"

"I'm not a virgin!"

"You are here!"

And you jammed two fingers into that very muscular chest, right next to the left side of his sternum. Too fast to be stopped. The shove actually made him stumble. Or maybe it was the utter shock of the verbal and physical double jab combined with the deep growl that your voice had suddenly become. His racer jacket and black hair were slick with rain. Half of his white t-shirt soaked. Even the front of his blue jeans drenched.

You panted hard after your outburst, the anger draining away all in a flash of lightning.

Jungkook stared at you with stricken eyes.

The rain pelted down, down, beating into the silence.

“How did you know?” he breathed out.

You didn’t but somehow you did, feeling something inside of you break. Not afraid of the world. Never, never again. No, afraid of what you could do, afraid of breaking something this pure, because you broke your first love too and that past guilt still lingered. Not that you thought Jungkook loved you. He couldn’t This was only the fifth day of him knowing you.

The fuck is going on?

“I see your type all the time,” you sighed, your damp hair all over your face. “Looking for light in black holes instead of stars.” The rain had slipped off your black leather jacket. Your cropped band shirt wasn’t wet, but your black cargo pants were sodden knees down.

This coldness, however, didn’t come from the rain.

“You really should stop. For your own good.”

You looked away from him, feeling as if your own words had pierced bullet holes into your walls. Dark sky, never-ending rain, cars struggling to drive, people running with umbrellas and ponchos, arms huddled close to their bodies, and here you were just standing here in the rain, the world acting out your mind. How nice. You thought you had come to terms with everything, but obviously not. Somehow once you saw Jungkook again, once you felt his presence again, the pull was even stronger and the storm was even more intense and the worst part was that you didn’t want to leave.

You heard Jungkook’s soft, silvery voice through the gray rain.

“Why are you blaming yourself for shit that hasn’t even happened yet?”

You turned your head to look into those pleading brown eyes.

Lightning shot across the sky.

Thunder followed seconds after, eating up the night.

“W… What?”

He shook his head, dripping water.

“You haven’t hurt me. You don’t mean to, either.”

That smile, his hand extended, the inked snake on his wrist showing.

You stared at Jeon Jungkook with droplets beading on your skin but those goosebumps weren’t from the weather. Jerked your head away. What is with this gentleness? How could he know anything? He couldn’t know anything. He was just an airhead who watched too many dramas and made others believe that they could be real.

“Noona?”

You whipped your head to Jungkook, shocked at his use of the honorific. He only used it when Jimin was at the meal. Afterwards, the conversations had been clearly directed at you. Not completely informal speech, but sometimes you slipped and he did too. You never corrected him because, well.

You slapped his hand away.

Nothing was going to happen.

You closed the distance and grabbed his head, pressing your lips to his shaking ones.

It was going to be terrible. Cold. Wet. Acidic from the lingering feelings. There was no way that this kiss could be anything else with this setting.

This was real life.

Not a story.

Your hands cupped his cheeks and you sunk into his kiss. The hard edge of his jewelry and the softness of his breath, caught by your mouth, your eyes already screwed shut, nothing to do but feel, feel the way he instantly pressed back and set his hands on your elbows, pulling you closer, shuddering as your forearms pressed to his chest. A weird feeling, like two fires melting together, prickling racing across your skin, no, deeper, past your ribs and into your heart.

The storm raged on.

You snapped out of the kiss, nose to nose, water trickling in places it shouldn’t, over your eyelashes and down your neck, feeling fingers graze across your elbows. Slipping under the leather. Droplets soaking into your shirt and then warm hands lingering at the curve of your exposed waist.

Tracing your lines.

“Fuck,” you muttered.

And you kissed Jeon Jungkook again.

saturday.

No, you didn’t take him home. You’re reckless, yeah.

But you knew how that would go.

Not that Jungkook didn’t try. Maybe you would have done it, if you weren’t the equivalent of wet cat and equally torrenting emotions. His hands around your waist, pulling you closer, heat blossoming between layers of rain-drenched clothing, kiss after kiss, your hands in his hair, tangling those dark waves into wilderness, getting more and more breathless, heady with a feeling you knew but didn’t want to believe in.

For someone who hated lying, you sure enjoyed lying to yourself.

You had reasons.

How could this time be different if it was just following the same trajectory that you always followed?

You had to pry yourself from him, lips tingling, tongue curling, feeling your blood course through your veins and your heartbeat as loud as thunder, opening your eyes to his blissed-out expression, his own eyes still closed, pressing his lips together to savor your taste.

Damn.

You had wanted to tell him to stop it, stop it with all this falling, you were being dragged down by his vibe, clothes feeling heavy, desperate to be stripped away, but you kept your hands along the sides of his head, your exhale escaping but giving you away like a bad con artist.

Those shimmering dark eyes had opened, following Jungkook’s smile.

“You’re a great kisser, noona.”

His hands stayed on your waist, drumming his fingertips on your skin, tangible kisses creating invisible but no less real electricity.

You scoffed, corner of your lips rising.

“Shut up.”

Tendrils of his black-brown hair clung to his forehead. The rain drummed but it had lessened a bit. You had looked back to his eyes, defeated.

“Shut up so I don’t miss you more.”

One last, drawn-out kiss, tongue to tongue and you had broken from him, warning him sternly.

“Don’t follow me.”

Ran all the way home, face burning, not even feeling the rain even though it was still falling.

Now, present time, you sat at this boring farewell party in some fancy hotel with the sun blaring outside. Figures the nice weather would come out when you would have to stuff yourself in a fitted blazer dress and pretend to care about your boss’s boss retiring. Black, of course. For the formal occasion. Sadly, no one was dying except this old coot’s career.

Maybe you were a little salty that you couldn’t retire yet.

You looked down at your phone, which was on silent, noticing you had a new message.

ㅎ.ㅎ

O… Okay. Whatever that face was supposed to mean. You didn’t even bother to answer. Couldn’t, anyway, forced to plaster on a mildly interested expression as your boss gave a speech that you zoned out of. There were multiple large circular tables in the hotel ballroom. Outside the ballroom was an outdoor area with the buffet. Everyone had served themselves before sitting down, but, first, a few words.

A few was turning out to be too many and your salmon was getting cold.

Employees had been allowed to bring plus ones. Wives and husbands. There were a few empty seats, and a few significant others popped in mid-speech, trying to be quiet and politely bowing in apology. Of course, they weren’t required to be on time, having other obligations and such.

You twitched.

Was that why this was dragging on? So everyone could eat at once? For fuck’s sake, who cared if they were late. Then you noticed your boss’s wife stepping in, looking pretty and put-together in a forest green high-necked dress, holding the small hand of a kid in a lopsided children’s tuxedo with an equally confused expression.

Oh.

Come on.

You suddenly felt a disturbance in the Force.

“Excuse me. Sorry, sorry.”

You whipped your head around to see Jeon Jungkook in a black pinstripe suit cha-cha sliding in the empty chair next to you, picking up your black velvet purse and holding it out to you with a grin that made his large, dark brown eyes light up.

You gawked at him.

“Hey. Sorry I’m late.” He added your name politely and with affection, smooth as butter, criminal undercover. Even the honorific, oh, shit.

The blood drained out of your face and you tried not to think about how your co-workers sitting at the table were staring at you and him like you both had three heads. Of course, no one was supposed to be talking, so no one asked questions yet, but that was definitely going to start the second your boss was finished with his sentence.

You took your purse without another word and glared at Jungkook with such fire that you hoped he burned alive at the spot. Oh, this could turn into a murder and a funeral real fucking fast. All he did was give you those shining big peepers that made you want to strangle him. In an unsexy way.

For now.

You leaned over as the clapping started. He caught on and delicately leaned over, offering his ear to your lips.

“The fuck are you doing?”

Jungkook turned his head so only you could hear his whisper.

“I was nearby, so I figured…?”

You stared at him, plumb slack-jawed at this audacity.

He closed the distance and gently kissed your cheek. You ticked your head almost robotically, piercing eyes following his playful ones, and now you wondered if Jeon Jungkook was truly not right in the head or perfect for you.

Well.

You weren’t right in the head either.

You did text him earlier this morning that you needed to come to this party at this hotel to send off this important retiree. If you missed this, then it would have reflected poorly on you, especially when you wanted to keep your job, so, yes, it was part of the reason why you had not attempted to convince Jungkook to sleep over – not that he needed any convincing whatsoever – and the other reason was to get enough sleep so you could tolerate socializing. Did you think Jungkook was gonna finesse his way into the seat next to you? Hell no. Did you think he was gonna dress smartly and with his black hair parted neatly in the center, fuckin’ black tie pressed and collar pinned? Fuck, no.

Did you think you would like it?

No!

“How did you get them to let you in?” you hissed under your breath.

Jungkook was clapping like a seal because everyone else was. A champagne bottle was being popped. He looked systematically impressed and awed. Amazing acting. “I just said I was with you.” Glanced at you and grinned, the silver piercings on his lip gleaming. A hoop and a stud. “Aren’t I, noona?”

The urge to growl at him to shut the fuck up was silenced by your brain reminding you to be safe-for-work.

You felt a poke at your sleeve. Your co-worker sitting at your left, bleach-blond and with the curiosity of a child. Full of sudden comments and questions too, just like a kid.

“Oh, oh! You never mentioned anything about a boyfriend!” Because you didn’t have one until right now, apparently. “So handsome!” Yes, he was. You had taste. “How did you meet?” Circumstances beyond your control.

“Through a… friend.”

That was a very generous word for instigator Park Jimin.

Jungkook poked his head past you and waved. “Hi! Nice to meet you.” He was using you as a shield to avoid directly interacting with these people he didn’t know. Just chiming in with polite nods as you introduced him to the table and sitting back to let you have this uninvited spotlight that was burning you like the sun did to vampires.

Pretty close, in all honesty.

“Aw, what a sweet guy. It’s nice to meet you too. I didn’t think your type was so young and cute.”

You almost made a face of distaste. “You thought my type was old and ugly?” Oop, there goes your sharp tongue.

“Nooo.” You tried not to flinch at the playful slap of your arm. “More mature, maybe? But this is better. You don’t have to be so serious. Look at his smile! I bet that’s what drew you in.”

You glanced at Jungkook and he appropriately smiled big at the right time. Somehow, he had obtained a plate of steak. How, you didn’t care. You narrowed your eyes just a sliver. Jungkook did not stop smiling but there was at least an iota of fear in those big brown eyes. Speaking of vampire, maybe you should suck the life out of him because he was being too fuckin’ much.

“Well, he was persistent to put it lightly. Might as well give him the chance to win me over.”

Jungkook beamed like a billion-kilowatt lightbulb. Or a crystal chandelier. It depended if you wanted to say the light came from his white teeth or sparkling eyeballs.

Fuckity fuck.

You wanted to rub your temples but refrained.

You would never recover from this.

“Are you mad at me?” Jungkook asked you later.

Oh, now he wondered if you’re mad. You didn’t even look at him, dragging him away from the crowd by the elbow. Hopefully you had stayed long enough but there had been so many of the same questions that you were either getting dizzy or murderous. Hm. Why not both?

“I’m not mad at you,” you muttered.

“You kinda sound mad.”

“I’m not mad but I’m gonna get mad if you keep saying I am,” you warned. “Don’t start a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

“A what?”

“Where did you park?”

His voice became small even though he was right next to you. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

The sun was blaring down on the open parking lot, it was annoyingly humid, you were socially drained, and this, not this. You spun abruptly, too much crashing down too fast, flinging Jungkook’s arm from you.

“No,” you hissed out. “No. Don’t you dare take it back. You wanna be crazy and drive me crazy, fine, do it, keep doing it, don’t stop, but own up. I’ve got enough push-and-pull jammed into my head and I don’t need you adding to it.”

It was so easy to simply give in to the rising anger, but you found yourself locked into Jungkook’s wide, taken-back eyes, drowning in them, deeper than the ocean, seeing how rueful he was.

“Don’t do that to me,” you sighed.

At least your voice didn’t crack. You didn’t want to be angry anyway.

You raised your hand to cup his cheek but paused, not knowing anymore what was what. Always been so sure until the world started getting flipped upside down by Jeon Jungkook. You always knew all of the things to do to make someone interested, all the things to say to make them swoon, and now you didn’t know anything at all because this guy showed up and jumped right in, not even caring about the damages, the fine print, or the past that lingered.

Why are you blaming yourself for shit that hasn’t even happened yet?

Jungkook leaned forward and completed the curve of his cheek into your hollow palm, now looking at you eye-to-eye with a curious expression.

The corner of your lips curved upwards.

You leaned forward, saying your next words very seriously.

“You. Are. Crazy.”

sunday.

You sat against the window, waiting for the document to print out.

No one was in the office. You had rolled over here out of sheer boredom, looking up at the gray-blue sky and watching shafts of sunlight phase in and out. Overtime to prepare documents for Monday. You hadn’t bothered to follow dress code, but there was a breeze today, so you wore brown plaid trousers and an old vintage t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. The faded album cover of Papa Roach’s Infest. Your oversized black leather jacket was on the back of your office chair once again.

You spun in your chair, the print job long done.

Thought back on the week.

Day one, awkward dinner and the start of a rollercoaster.

Day two, clutching your phone and waiting for replies due to the spotty service of the subway.

Day three, washing machines and dryers and long conversations.

Day four, shitty day with a nice ending to more texts. Better service too.

Day five, cold rain and warm lips.

Day six, surprise! You have a boyfriend and everybody knows!

You got up and wandered to the copier. Stacked everything up and clipped the right parts together, setting it on your boss’s desk. Glanced at the time at your computer. The blank screensaver abruptly appeared, showing you your blurred reflection.

Your fingertips lingered on your chest, the soft, worn fabric of the shirt reminding you of night after tumultuous night of the past. Time that made you, you. Scars you made by holding on too tightly to pain others gave you. The thought of scars in others that you started and they held on to. Repenting, in a way, healing the hearts that came in your path with intimacy and the passion you were afraid to show Jeon Jungkook because what if, what if…

What if it actually matched well?

“You,” Park Jimin had said to you months ago, “You need someone who thinks of you as their whole world.”

“I don’t want that.”

“You don’t want it. But you need it.”

You didn’t have Park-Jimin-being-right on this year’s bingo card, fuck.

You clocked out and collected your stuff, turning off the lights as you left the office, black boots the only solid sound around you, pulling out your phone to check the address one more time.

“Why are you wearing clothes?” you asked accusingly.

“Um…?”

You gripped the sides of the denim jacket and yanked it off his shoulders, pinning Jeon Jungkook’s arms to his sides. He immediately yelped but you silenced him by stepping through the door and pulling him to you by the button placket, tracing the edge of his open lips with your tongue.

“W-Wait, noona, the d-door…”

“I don’t care.”

Kissed him, deeply.

That now familiar scent, closer, slipping your tongue between his lips, succumbing to the flutters. In, out, feeling him collapse under you and moan in his throat, hard body stumbling into yours, hand haphazardly smacking the edge of the door.

It closed behind you.

You rolled your body into his, closer than close with too many layers in between, tangling his arms in his own jacket, swallowing his gasp and feeling him wiggle determinedly to free his hands and then they were on your face, strong fingers fanning out over your jaw, his jacket falling to the floor, hungrily following your tongue and lips with his own.

Something addicting about the addition of metal to those soft mouth.

This was your forte, the ability to make fantasies come true, and you took it seriously, throwing your bag onto the table by the door and shedding the protective layer of leather. Pressed chest to chest, holding his head and tracing his lips, slow fucking them, running your fingertips over the curve of his ears and making him shiver, noting the three hoops along his left ear.

Pressed your hands down his chest, over the smooth ribbed white tank molding to his muscular torso, down, down, kissing past his lips, to that mole underneath, down his chin, his head tipping back, your name drifting above your head as you kissed down his neck, the sharp clean scent of his cologne getting stronger.

“I thought… we were… o-oh, g-going out…”

“I’m gonna fuck you,” you breathed into his collarbones, hot and low, nicking his skin with your teeth and making him shiver. “Right now. Tonight. Maybe tomorrow too.” Undid the button of his jeans with some effort, yanking him towards you again and molding your hips to his, thighs to hard thighs, and that stiffness wasn’t only a sturdy zipper. “Tuesday as well. Fuck it.”

“The whole week,” Jungkook gasped as you unzipped his charcoal jeans.

“Yeah, good, you’re keeping up,” you murmured and grabbed his head again, catching a fistful of his black hair, kissing him hard with your other palm pressed to his hardness. Your tongue tracing the edge of his lips, breathing into his mouth and swallowing Jungkook’s wanton moan, intoxicated by the moment.

You pulled back just to yank your shirt over your head, tossing it to the floor.

It took longer for it to float down than for you to get on your knees.

“Woah…!”

Hooked your fingers on the elastic waistband of his Calvin Kleins and tugged them down, exhaling over that thick length that popped out. He smelled clean, like he had just showered, and you half-smiled, approving, closing the distance to curl your tongue around hard taut skin.

“Ooooh… fuuuuuuuck…”

Tightly taking control, using only your tongue to scoop around his girth and flick against his balls. Kisses, licks, flutters of breath, all of it, sensation after sensation, layering on the heat, adding sweetness to the obscene, his twitching cock hitting your cheek as you pressed kisses to his balls.

“Let me show you something,” you hummed and swallowed his pride.

Jungkook gasped so loud that his hands shot up to his mouth, fingers laced over his moan, one inked arm and one tan one, tilting his head back as your lips closed around him, softly, your tongue cupping the head, caressing the underside, the slit, letting him throb against wet muscle. Pushed him up to the roof of your mouth and slowly, in and out, rubbing the base of the head against your lips every time you ascended, fanning your fingers over his crotch to hold the base and cup his balls in between your index and thumb. Steady and consistent, sucking him off with deliberate precision.

You had a lot of fancy skills to show off but, for this first time, might as well give him the stripped-down version.

Heh.

So you blew Jungkook at his front door in your bra and pants with his clothes half-on and struggling to breathe.

“A-Ah, so s-soft… and so tight… h-how…”

You didn’t speed up. Didn’t put in more force. Used your whole torso, not just your head and neck, to avoid strain, holding his hips to take him deeper but at the same pace, letting the orgasm build with his heart rate, running your thumbs over his balls, a gentle caress, closing your eyes to savor it. Hard and twitching, but you didn’t let him disturb what you had going on, extending out the minutes, saturating every second with flowing, unavoidable bliss.

What?

You could match his vibe with your kind of romance.

You heard Jungkook’s pitch hike and the muscles under your fingers all tensed up. You spared a look upwards, but he wasn’t looking at you, shoving his hands into his messy black hair, displaying his prominent triceps, and moaning to the ceiling, dragging his bangs over his eyes.

“Oh my God, I’m cumming, fuuuuck…!”

You pillowed your tongue around the head and his salty orgasm flooded your mouth, spilling out and down your throat, but you cupped what you could and coated the sensitive head, pleased to hear Jungkook’s shudder and whimper of ecstasy, gripping his hair and pulling. The close-fitted nature of his tank top left nothing to the imagination, the aftershock rippling up his chest, even his hardened nipples poking against the fabric.

You swallowed.

Jungkook moaned and his head fell back again, his eyes probably rolled back.

Gotta finish him off right.

You licked around him carefully, cleaning him off and keeping him hard.

“You…”

Cocked an eyebrow as you shifted your eyes up, his cock buried in your throat, pulsing your muscles around his length. His chin was on his chest, wayward dark curls hanging down, shaking wide eyes watching you with fascination, his shaking voice full of awe.

“You know… how porn calls it a mouth-pussy? I really thought that shit was fake and sounded stupid, but… you have a mouth-pussy.”

You blinked at him and tried not to snort out in laughter.

You just raised both eyebrows and flicked his balls with your tongue. A few seconds later, you pulled back and countered with, “Really? Mouth-pussy? That’s how you show gratitude for the best suck of your life?”

“B-But it’s true!”

You shook you head and waved a hand at him.

“Clothes. Off.”

Every hour, every minute, every second.

Full of sex.

Jungkook wasn’t lying. He wasn’t a virgin. He was a little too good at fingering to be a virgin. Well, you hadn’t had his dick yet but it was pretty obvious with the slow circles on your clit and the kissing of your collarbones. Clothes didn’t even make it to the bedroom. Most of them were left by the door. Your shoulder blades and ass touching the bed, his other hand along your back and tracing your spine as he kissed across your breasts, shyly shifting his gaze back to your face to constantly check if you were enjoying it, not quite confident that he was making your heart flutter. You smirked back at him, taking his hand and pressing his fingers to your wet slit, pushing them in yourself.

He breathed out with you, watching your face as the pleasure snaked out from your core.

Two of them, taking it slow, but you shook your head and pressed his down, your hard nipple against his lips, and he followed your lead, faster, harder, your inner walls clenching around him, sighing deeply as the pleasure flowed, soft licks and tracing tongue. You let him have it, the slower, more romantic pace, spreading your fingers over his sheets and thrusting into his hand, adding to the pleasure, and Jungkook’s eyes glittered, kissing from one nipple to another with a smile.

“Harder?”

“And faster,” you agreed, licking the air between you and him.

Hey, you weren’t a virgin either and you liked it rough.

He kissed you first, entranced by your tongue, harder, faster, your hips following his hand, entangled in this beat, and then it was back to your nipples, kissing sucking, sparks of sensuality over your skin, your hands diving into his hair. Heat. Roughness. Passion, catching your breath and your head falling back, inhaling his scent and the clean sheets, the orgasm flooding through you, delicately forming his name with your lips.

“Ah, Jungkook…”

You didn’t let it stop there though.

His hand moved to pull out and you clutched his wrist and pushed him back in, your nail catching his ring finger, collecting it too, gasping at the added fullness, and you pulled his left hand out from under your back.

Jungkook watched you curiously as your rode his right hand and turned his left, thumb down.

You fitted it around your neck and positioned it correctly, grinning devilishly at him.

He got the hint.

Slightly unsure at first but you built his confidence, comfortably laying back on his bed and spreading out your fingers, moaning softly for him, rocking your hips into his hand, climbing to the high again, stronger his time. His fingers pressed inwards and you breathed out, savoring the choking, the way time slowed down, the way the sensations heightened, your spine arching, low gasp like heavy smoke, immortalizing the moment in his memory, black pupils blown out in those beautiful dark eyes, leaning forward to run his tongue over your nipples.

Your fingers curled into the sheets, thrusting into his fingers harder.

Lids heavy, drowning in the pleasure, his tongue, his hands, the way he looked at you like you were his whole world, the tension between you and him, sweet and intense and overwhelming, just perfect, your exhale only a thin wisp now, closing your eyes and moaning to the ceiling as you came.

It was a hard, thundering pulse, much more powerful than before, your shivering pussy gripping his fingers and your hips bucking. Thighs snapping closed, whining as you felt the hardness of his tattooed forearm, your head snapping to the side the second he released you, the rushing blood knocking you down and making your nerves sing, strong flinches across your arms and torso. Gasping to catch your breath.

Wasn’t his first time choking, but maybe the first time he got really turned on by it, because Jungkook was ogling you like a three-star Michelin meal.

It was like that all night.

From the first time he entered you, one condom wrapper the start of many, biting the left side of his lip and shuddering – “H-How are you so tight…? I just f-fingered you – oooh!” – and you wrapped around him tightly, smirking a little too smugly, one arm around his neck and one leg on his shoulder. Your fingers petaled around the base of his head, cupping him in the flower of your touch. Your thigh against his hard chest still trembling from your kisses. You angled your hips and he slipped in deeper, groaning in disbelief, his brows furrowing at you.

“H-Hey!”

Your tongue pocketed in the side of your smirk and you fucked him right.

“Gah!”

Jungkook, too, fucked you right.

You lead the pace so he could bring the force of his hips. Ah, fuck, right there, like that, and you let him know, the cries tumbling out and mixing with his, rushing wave after wave pressing into you, filling you with his girth and his power. You brought the intensity, the flint to his flame, the break in his pride and Jungkook was looking down at you, shoulders flexed, jaw tight and eyes hazy, clear emotion swirling within them and you saw your own gaze fixated on him, wanting him more than you wanted the sex.

Oh.

Shit.

You gasped and dug your nails into his scalp, grasping the pillow and throwing your head back, not expecting the suddenness of your high, injected into your heartbeat and pushing all the air out of your lungs, veins ablaze with heat as your core clenched, inner walls throbbing all around him. Jungkook groaned, biting his lower lip and thrusting hard, the small mole underneath shaking just as hard as his shoulders, but he couldn’t hold back any longer, squeezing his eyes shut, muffled scream as he came, his head falling back, two tones the start of an ongoing, wanton melody.

“Holy… fuck…”

Well, more like unholy fuck but you didn’t correct him.

You kind of expected him to pull out and leave, but instead his head snapped back and he dived down, catching your lips and dripping sweat on you, making you both laugh. Kiss after kiss, all over your face, and you could barely sputter out – “Oi, you’re sweaty!” – but he didn’t care, kissing all over your cheeks and down your neck, your chest, slurping at your nipples, you narrowed your eyes at that but those playful eyes just sparkled with deviousness, trailing down, down.

Slowing.

Jungkook pressed his lips to your waist, looking up at you.

Your heart thundered against your chest and sparks danced over your skin.

Somehow at ease.

“What?”

You smiled down at him.

“I don’t ever want to leave your side.”

Your lips parted to give him a snappy comeback, yeah, well, I gotta go to work, but nothing came out.

Jungkook grinned, his whole face lighting up and dove between your legs, biting and kissing the inside of your thighs, attacking them with his menacing mouth.

“Hey! Oi! I’m sensitive, f-fuck!”

Even planting a fat wet kiss on your clit for good measure.

“Ah!”

Shoving his tongue in your pussy.

“YO!”

You gawked at his audacity, twisting away from him. Infuriatingly, he followed, scrambling for your ass.

“There was just a condom in there!”

“Ah, who cares,” said the one that clearly didn’t. “Kiss me.”

“Hell no!”

After cleaning up and pinning him down on his own bed and thoroughly scolding him, somehow you ended up making out with Jungkook and his fingers were in your pussy again. It sounded very wet and squishy down there, probably because you showed Jungkook just now much you liked kisses under your earlobe. His tongue against your skin, teeth nicking, sucking hard and making you moan and grind on his hand, pressing against his chest.

“Sit on my face,” he whispered in your ear.

Which was know you ended up grasping his headboard and his tongue between your legs, the piercing pressed against the left side of the outer lips. You kept your weight on your knees, but Jungkook grabbed your ass and tipped your hips at a different angle, your clit right on his tongue, his nose against your crotch.

“Fuuuuck, you smell so good…”

You could barely hear him but you felt him speak, gasping at the strange sensation of hot breath and swiping tongue, his lips wrapping around your most sensitive nerves. He had a much softer tongue, but there was consistency there and plenty of gusto. It helped, actually, to have his hands gripping your thighs, adding the amplifying pleasure of restraint. You rode his face, matching the movement of his tongue. One of your hands left the headboard. Trapped your nipples between your fingers and pulled at them, making Jungkook’s eyes go wide and watch eagerly, licking and sucking harder.

Layered and intricate, full of sensation and emotion, gazing down at him and smirking as the sparks turned into lightning and you soaked his face, shivering, tipping forward at the flinches of climax, swearing under your thin breath, panting, snapped tension draining you and wetly sticking to his lips, his tongue, his cheeks.

He shoved his tongue into your quivering pussy and you sucked in a breath, feeling your inner walls pulsate around his curling muscle, his low, gravelly moan filling what little air there was between his mouth and you, his satisfaction vibrating through your body and mixing with your afterglow.

You slid down his chest and kissed him again, tasting your subtle sweet-sour on his slick lips.

He wanted you to jack him off hard and fast, the fingers of your other hand splayed out over his chest, forgetting about anything else, time only a construct, your phones discarded by the door, and here, in this bed, there was only Jungkook and you, his cock pulsing in your grip, your foxy expression to his desperate one, his eyes rolling back in the intensity, biting down hard on the left side of his lip, the small mole underneath shaking in anticipation, the tendons of his neck popping out.

You raised your free hand and gently stroked his cheek with your knuckle as you punished his cock.

His lower lip popped out of his mouth and he groaned, rough and breathless.

“A-Ah, fuck!”

A hot stream of liquid dripping down the back of your hand, drenching you and him in the strong scent of sex. Thick and potent, and you leaned forward and kissed him deeply, tightly holding his jerking cock and squeezing it all out of him.

“You’re amazing,” Jungkook panted, even after getting up – once again – to attempt to clean up your collective mess.

“Mhm,” you hummed, sitting beside him. He was radiating heat. “I was never worried about that.”

“Hah… You’re… You’re crazy…”

You had obtained your phone and just now sent a message to your boss that you would be taking a sick day on Monday. You have plenty of those. “Speak for yourself.”

“I mean, you’re like… um… uh, oh! A semen demon…”

“What?”

You almost threw your phone in laughter. Actually, you couldn’t even hear Jungkook’s explanation for what the hell he meant by semen demon because you were laughing too hard, barely able to breathe. There wasn’t a normal explanation anyway – how could there be? – and you kept inelegantly snorting afterward at inappropriate times. Jungkook, for his part, seemed proud for making you laugh so much.

“You look so beautiful laughing.”

Your response was quick, immediate, and lighthearted.

“Shut up.”

He snuggled his still too warm head into the crook of your shoulder.

“Will you stay?”

You gave him a look and then showed him the sent text message on your phone. There was something special and perfect about the smile that lit up his face, clearly showing his devotion and clearly seeing yours.

“Yeah, I’ll stay.”

Jungkook skipped work too. Both of you ended up sleeping in.

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook x you #jungkook x noona #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

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qvrcll · 14 days

Text

Warnings: mentions of political marriages, strangers > friends > lovers, kissing near towards the end, mentat at mind, lover boy at heart

The ordeal is simple — at-least on paper. You and Paul are meant to be wed on the single promise of a shared goal between the two of your houses, which come down to one thing and one thing only: security. Wealth, power and standing do not surmount to what, in Leto’s words, the Emperor has planned for the futility of house Atreides. He knows, Thufir knows, everyone knows, that Arrakis wasn’t branded to be some sweetly wrapped gift that fell into his lap when the time came to reward the duke. No - matters of this sort were much too systematic, especially at a scale such as this. Something must be done, to solidify the house of Atreides upon the rain-swept expanse of Caladan. Something to bind the Atreides to their mother planet long enough, so there might not be strife or conflict that sharpens whatever blade is held against them. So, wed Paul you must.

Simple doesn’t translate so easily against the obscurity that is the real world.

In the real world, the two of you are mere strangers. The only thing that binds the two of you is the responsibility bourne from the insignias that you wear, that are soon to culminate as two adjoining houses; whilst his happen to be two thick lines of silver against his collar, yours take on a different shape, a strange alterity between curves and striking lines, and shot through with gold against the sleeve of your garments. There is it — the mere tellings of your differences, as pure as day. He wonders how the symbols will look like, meshed together and serving as one. He wonders how he will appear next to you - frail boy or able man?

Half of the time, you catch his eye simply because you are there, sitting duly next to your father and ascertaining the weight of such a marriage past paper, when all is said and done. Other times, you are a blurring fragment in the hallways, swathed in your house’s colours and too fleeting to get a hold on, sometimes even flanked by your house’s livery. Mere strangers, he reminds the indiscernible feeling in his chest.

“Where is your head at? Focus!” Gurney growls out, more harsh tempered than his usual mood, as he crouches and takes Paul’s fair strike for what it was - a clean swipe that was meant for his chest, which now deflects smoothly off of the older, more haggard man’s shield, and sets the room abuzz with vibrations. And so the smell of ozone worsens, Paul calculates in his head, as he shakes his head thoroughly and shifts his grip on his weapon. Gurney isn’t impressed — not in the way he usually is. Paul knows he must answer.

“This is me focusing,” Paul offers, and doesn’t grit his teeth or possess a sudden candour with his strikes because he respects Gurney. But he cannot help the mood that has blanched him - voids, how he wishes he could confess those words, verbatim, to the older man who currently encircles his passes like a seasoned ring-fighter. But the word ‘mood’ had gotten him in line last week, when Gurney had simply upped his antics with the mere mention of it, “I’m just out of breath.”

“No, you’re not.” Gurney smiles, clenching his palm around the ragged hilt of the Kindjal. He knows, Paul thinks bitterly.

“No, I’m not.” Paul confesses. He tests a low swoop of his dagger - ill-advised - and reigns his laugh in when it catches Gurney off his feet, his back staggering against the training table.

Let’s see how you like this, lad, Gurney formalises in his mind, as he presses his defence like a bull and keeps his attacks slow and pulsing through the air, blinding all of Paul’s spots, “Is it the marriage?”

Cornered for tactics, and focusing mostly on not getting cleaved to pieces during training, Paul scoffs, “Of course it’s the marriage.”

“You’re scared.”

At this, Paul counters metal with metal, bounding back when it rings against his ears, rings against the room, “I’m not scared. I’m prepared to fulfil my duty, even if I am given options,” a dull parry, which still creates momentum, and thus space, between the two men, “I’m only uneasy because I’ve never actually met her.”

“You have. Several times. Or have you been asleep throughout your father’s meetings?”

Paul stresses a firm strike against Gurney, which repels off of his own shield by how close the dagger strikes the space between them. But he’s good at catching himself. Gurney, unused to Paul’s strange and newly learnt manoeuvres, falls short. He tries to counter, but cannot, but he is most impressed for it.

“Concede.” Paul breathes, low and attempting a threatening veil, as Gurney’s back meets the floor. The old man grunts, before nodding deftly as Paul hauls him to his feet with one palm alone. They settle in different corners of the room, silence beseeching both of them suddenly - they’re not two men for silence, but in Gurney’s head, Paul is undergoing a strange part of his life. He wonders if Paul fears it in the night.

Paul interjects Gurney’s thoughts.

“Do you - have you… met her?” his voice is meek. Uncharacteristic. Gurney smirks.

“Once or twice, in the hallways.”

“And? How is she?”

Gurney laughs. The boy is eager today.

The next time I see her, I will speak, he promises.

Better said than done. With no similar companions his age - a course of action being the very result of his heritage, his mother reminds him - he truly doesn’t know how to properly seek you out. You are more shadow than friend, more idea than person, and the more he sees you, the more he forgets.

“Something on your mind?” Duncan nudges him with the edge of some Fremen equipment, that bothers him well enough to dredge out Paul’s concerns. Not that he needs to. It is written on his face.

“Yes,” Paul confesses, readjusting for comfort, “It’s about my marriage.”

“You speak as though you will marry tomorrow. It is not set it stone. Not yet.”

Paul scoffs, “I know that. I just haven’t met her yet. And I want to.”

Duncan, in the midst of polishing some hardware and solar devices, that smell quite faintly of hot sand and the sun, pauses to glance away from Paul’s face. When his gaze returns, it is almost teasing, a smirk ripping across his face, “You’re in luck today.”

“What?” Paul swivels and —

Oh. Oh.

You’re standing there. Hands clasped behind your back, yes. Stoic, assessing expression, yes. Clothed in rich colours of your house, as you always are in his passing vision - only this time, it is a green so deep that it comes across as black. Suddenly, realising that you have been found out by not only Duncan Idaho, but by the Duke’s son himself, you uncharacteristically let slip your own embarrassment through wide eyes.

“Oh. My apologies — I, uh, didn’t mean to intrude. I was just curious by the - er - gadgets.” you fumble for words at a rate that would be comical if not for the morbid embarrassment seizing you by the seconds. You’re shaking your head politely, smile strained and legs rooted where they are and ready to melt into the various corridors - back to your own duties, you assume. Away from company. Paul, however, stands linearly and full of purpose, face constructed of hard lines that all smile at you.

“No, please. Join us,” his voice is smooth - you’ve never heard him talk, even around those board room meetings - and his hand is extended to gesture within the space, “I insist.”

Duncan raises a brow in amusement and Paul wants to tamp his feet down with a neat blow. That pulls a chortle out of the man, which only further startles you. Paul invites you cordially to take a seat, where you fit awkwardly, like you were truly imposing. However, in a manner of minutes, that is all erased when Duncan lets the two of you weigh the objects in your hand – sand compactor, weapons, stinted devices that were far too aged to be still of use but gathering attention nonetheless. When Paul passes it to you, he feels your soft fingers pass underneath his own, where a warm feeling curdles as an afterthought.

“This—is a sand compactor?” you ask warily, tilting the device as though it would spring up on you and dissolve to bits. Duncan barks out a laugh.

“For sand compacting, yes.” he humours you. You, however, are too lost on the object, still swirling it around in your palms; eyes peeled downwards.

“Yes. I see.” you reply.

The two men dissolve into a fit of laughter. You look up, eyes helplessly trailing from one to the next. The day is easy.

Paul is thankful for the event, and so are you. It doesn’t solve all his problems, and his head is always probing with inquiries and worries, but he can count on the off chance of seeing you in the hallways. He can count on the fact that you will pause, meet his eyes and smile.

You’re walking the countless hallways of the estate - Caladan had so much water to offer, but no one on your native planet ever mentioned the striking architecture, the hollowed out walls and think-pieces painted across rooms. High domed ceilings, with absolutely nothing to offer but soft light. Some rooms contained scintillating glass, chairs of different shapes and mediums, tables too big for just a few affairs. Others were bound shut, but that didn’t discourage nor intimidate you, nor your entourage.

On one such day, you’re caught in your explorations by none other than the Atreides heir.

In actuality, it is you who catches him first, stood perfectly still at the end of the corridor and holding a terse expression. When he spots you, his shoulders relax and he manages to blink once, before his mouth opens underneath the realisation that you were really here.

“Hello.” his voice is strong, and carries well.

That was awkward. This is always awkward. He curses himself.

You smile, and it swipes at the ground beneath his feet, “I didn’t expect to see you here.

“This is my residence, yes?” more jest than anything else. You snort.

“I am aware. Your residence is quite beautiful. I like to wander,” you say, finding yourself fixing a meandering pace beside him, and he smiles softly when he realises that he, too, steps beside you at a similar speed, “I hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t. Never.”

It is quick work after that – by pure coincidence, that you joke to Paul that is it is methodical instincts and ground-work as a mentat that he is able to summon himself almost anywhere you are present from that point onwards, you two bump into each other more and more in the corridors, and from there, it extends to the rather large library, the training space with Gurney skirting its edges, the ever-blossoming gardens even, which held more water than shrubbery in retrospect. Meetings pertaining to your marriage held an element of amusement now, as Paul actually tries to catch your eye this time, drumming his lithe and smooth fingers against the table in a way that could’ve passed off as a wandering of his mind as his father droned on about security measures and fuel caps, but you notice.

You hadn’t, not before, but you did now. To his pleasure, you even respond in a tiny flickering of fingers against the age-old meeting table, the vibrations a blur against his obvious contentment.

“You look glad.” Gurney comments and Paul realises how uninvolved his attention had been on the room before him. He quickly assesses it and whatever lays within it; table, check. Light source, check. Scratchy walls, check. Gurney’s ever-gracing height, check.

When had his habits, trained and chained to duty, begun to sweep towards you?

“Do I?” Paul asks, keeping his voice as still as he can manage. He had swiped at his face to rid the itch off his brow, but he unwittingly catches how warm he is. Not uncomfortable, no. But enough to leave a mark on his consciousness. It was like he was simply losing grip on his own composure when he thought of… something. It was still fleeting in his own mind.

He is too afraid to retrace his steps and find a familiar pair of eyes staring at him in the recesses of it.

Gurney slaps a hand on Paul’s shoulder, seemingly articulate with the latter’s feelings. Old man, Paul would curse out in jest, but he merely smiles. It is strained, and strange. Paul never puts an effort into his smiles, Gurney notes.

“Something is on your mind.” Gurney clicks his tongue.

Paul blinks, swallows, “Something is on my mind.”

“Out with it.”

Paul hesitates, which is strange, because in all his fights he is the first to stoke the flame. He isn’t vengeful – at-least, he doesn’t think he is – that’s why his strikes lack a hunger for blood and instead, settle for calculation. Briefness. No means to an end just yet. Or ever, he thinks.

But with you, it’s different. That’s what he spits out, what he lets Gurney work with. How you were a supposed intrusion into his life – something he had assumed would be awkward, like a stab wound that had scabbed over and began to weakly throb in pain, always to remind itself of its own compromise to work around demise. He thought you would be that; but upon meeting you, you were anything but that. You were curious and brilliant in your own way – similar to him, yet miles apart so that you were the form of a friend he had always wished for in his youth. You talked about your interests and spent double your time inquiring about his. When your hands brushed, his own grew clammy – that’s the strangest one of them all, Gurney – And something was blossoming – was it friendship? Was it trust? Was it fear?

What was this spattering and gooey mess slipping over the swell of his heart whenever you appeared? What was it?

He talks and talks and talks until Gurney squeezes his palm over Paul’s shoulder in a way an uncle would do to his nephew who he might want to reassure. Or a brother would to his youngest companion, as if to say: I see you. I hear what you say.

“Sounds to me like there’s an awful lot of trust between the two of you,” Gurney clicks his tongue again, only this time, Paul scoffs. Ah, there he is – there is the Paul Atreides I know, Gurney smiles, “And something else too.”

“What is it?” Paul asks. His eyes are curious, brows furrowed. Gurney holds down the laugh building in his chest, and the emboldened words in red: you’re falling in love with this friend of yours, boy, and instead, pats him on the shoulder.

“Piece of advice, if you’ll heed to anything I say,” Paul straightens with attention, “Let the truth flow. Do not stop it. Do not push it back. To live with the truth, you must learn its ways and be one with it.”

That night, Paul walks back to his room with the truth beneath his skin, and listens to his own heartbeat against his pillow. The rest of him warms with the realisation of, oh, oh, oh.

The next time you see Paul, you think you’d done something to offend him. Or bore him. Or something other.

It had become a pleasant habit; meeting him at the Caladan gardens, opting for a spot and sitting with your backs to the grass, counting the stars as you talked. Before, conversation had tipped forth whenever. Now, there was something in the air – tension. And it is him that brings it.

Paul avoids your eyes, settling instead for the vast colouring of grey across the hallway walls whenever he caught you in it. He had stopped sending you the familiar drumming of his fingertips across the meeting table, and instead always froze up when you met his gaze, whereby he turned red with anger – or was it anger? What was it?

He’d always be staring at your face, and you would wonder if there was a piece of parchment stuck to it, or if he was merely bored around you; most days, you allowed it. It stung, yes, but you had nothing ill to hold against him. But it accumulated, unbeknownst to you, and for him to miss your question yet again made you sigh in defeat – disappointment?

“You seem distracted,” you say, not bothering to shield the hurt in your words, though you couldn’t begin to understand why and when you had ever begun to crave expect the attention of his earthen-dusted eyes, “Am I boring you?”

He straightens up, his eyes wide, which in turn surprises you, “Bored? Seven hells, no. ‘Course not.”

“What did I just ask then?”

He cringes, “I promise I’m not bored. Just…”

His fingers flex in his lap, before curling into themselves, and his cheeks warm slightly. Is it happening now? Is he doing it now? The weather was right; a typical Caladan breeze, heavy with the wetting of the sky from the day, and now shrouded with clouds and a darkness that was impenetrable. Even as the two of you laid against the bare grass, no one outside could tell either of you apart from the ground itself. In the moonlight, you were almost one with it.

“Just?” you ask. You were curious of this now, “Just what?”

“Just!” he sucks in a harsh breath, his sharp face now boyishly soft and pliant in a way you hadn’t seen it before, “I… Just promise you won’t take offence to this.”

How ironic.

“I promise, Paul,” you smile, shoulder bumping against his as you glance at the side of his face, the way his nose shapes perfectly against the dampness of the Calandan wind, “Tell me.”

Be one with it. Be one with it. It is a mantra in his head.

“I realise that I have begun to grow a certain, uh, affection for you. Yes, I like you. I don’t know how it had begun. And I know it’s foolish of me to even act this way when we are set to marry. But I know, in my heart, that—“ a breath, as he nervously glances at your now surprised face and oh, he shuts his mouth. He opens it again, panicked, “My apologies. I shouldn’t have—let me—”

“Paul.” you stop him, hands against his one arm that seems to be quivering ever so slightly – how much of it can he hold?

He waits. Bated breath.

You smile, shy and sweet and it whips against him in a way that the wind of his mother planet had never managed to. Here is my dear friend, he thinks, my dear friend who was but a stranger a long time ago and is set to marry me once talks have been concluded. Here is my friend who I have poured my stupid, ill heart to and who still looks at me with kindness.

“I like you too.”

He blinks. He looks at you when you speak and watches, really watches, how your mouth forms against the words. I like you too.

“As a companion? Or friend, at best? Is that what your ‘like’ refers to?” he asks, nervous in the face of your admission. It makes you smile, as he rambles slightly, and though his countenance is that of poise and grace, beneath he is a a boy of tender heart. Smiling, you grab the front of his thick coat lapel and watch his words die on his tongue as you place a feathery, warm and soft kiss against his mouth. It was so unbelievable, he thought he’d conjured it all up – that you weren’t here, timidly kissing him with a sheepish smile on your face, and the stars of his home glinting against your skin. He lets his finger brush your cheek, still dumb-struck.

“Again.” he whispers. His heart hammers at the sound of your breathy laugh, as you repeat the action, conviction in your palms as they lay upon his cheek, “Again, please.”

“Again?” you ask, voice soft and muted as he hoists you atop of his front, chest to chest, and gazing at him like he was everything. Within the action, your golden insignia brushes his own, silver ones so briefly that he can make out a shape bourne from the contact of either two, before they separate. You wanted him, as he wanted you. And soon, you would wed, and the image of gold upon silver won’t be so unclear anymore. Maybe, somewhere warmer and less unbelievable, he could let himself grow familiar with the reality of you. But for now, he could settle for this to be a mere dream he had grown to relish so very much. Even now, he could almost believe none of this to be real, just a trick of the mind. Maybe fatigue or delusion.

He says your name so quietly, a plea, and it has never sounded sweeter, “Please.”

And yet, the soft press of your mouth upon his convinces him that it is so much more.

i wanted to incorporate some inferences of paul’s character from the early novel (mentat, solitude in terms of companions, great fighter), as well as the film, whilst wanting to stray away from the destruction of house atreides after the gifting of arrakis, which would explain why the marriage needs to take place. sooo no one dies! HURRAH!!!!!!!!! enjoy :]

#paul x you #dune paul x you #paul atreides fic #paul atreides x you #paul atreides fanfic #paul atreides x reader #paul atreides x y/n #dune x you #dune x reader #dune part two x reader

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thedarkheretic156 · 7 months

Text

VIII Eternal Flame VIII

The final moon before the feast dawns on the young demigod, and with it, it's threatening consequences.

Parts: ❧ I II III IV V VI VII ❧

Warnings: Fem Afab reader, she/her pronouns. Angst, mentions of death, violence, slight nsfw (if you squint).

Even as a child, I remembered how the fire dancers in the east would tell stories of the old. Their fires in hues I had never seen before. Deep crimsons and pale yellows with greens that rivalled rain forests. That was the first time I realised that every flame was different.

The dancers moved and their long braids swished around them, their movements sharp and lithe, not missing a beat. Fire dancing was an old tradition, performed every year, one night before the feast of manana. It was called the ceremony of the Khar-moon, the incomplete moon.

It was less a form of entertainment and more of a ritual, a portrayal of faith towards the Goddess. They said that the performers practiced all year long just for those few minutes on stage. And it never failed to take my breath away, twirling on the stage, aglow with the torches behind them, the dancers looked like flames personified.

This year, I knew the story well. It was the same boring text my aunt had grated into my brain. She would even sit me down and make me recite it over and over, until the words clouded my thought the moment, I closed my eyes. So, it wasn’t surprising that I recognised it at once. They were telling the tale of ‘the hearth’. The beginning of all life. Or what we understood of it.

The dancer dressed as the hearth was in silver and orange, their eyes lidded, a beacon of peace and tranquillity. The music fanned, low and rhythmic as the singer began the first song. Their clear voice rang out, rippling through the crowd.

My palms sunk into the grass as I leaned forward eagerly. My aunt swatted my ankle, “sit properly!" but the swelling music drowned out her voice.

They sang of how every fire was born from the Hearth. Each eventually taking different forms. Dancers dressed in gold twirled around the Hearth. The fire of the stove, I recognised. Gold bangles glittered around their wrists as they moved, calling fire that looked like molten gold, its flames docile and controlled.

The music shifted suddenly, becoming faster, louder just as a dancer in scarlet jumped high from between them, red flames curling around their wrists. The flame that lights the torch for war.

All the flames gathered around the hearth and bowed deeply. Paying respect to the one that birthed them. And that’s the end of the story, I thought.

“Can we leave, father? -” I started and my aunt hissed me into silence. I furrowed my brow; was there more?

It was then that another dancer jumped up front, my heart jumped at the sudden action. Their clothes were blue, flowing around them like water, replicating the shades that flickered within my flames.

It was a harsh contrast to the others dressed in shades saffron. A stranger, an anomaly.

I remembered feeling a pit in my stomach, the curiosity I had for the play suddenly dissipating like someone had put out a candle.

My flames were blue.

And I wasn’t told this part of the story.

It did not bow to the hearth, the dancer flicked their blue robes arrogantly, the fabric rising like the audacious plume of a peacock. I gulped nervously as my aunt finally pulled me back on the seat. I heard her mutter sharply but my father shushed her down,

"Leave her be Hathor." He grumbled.

I felt my breath shallow. As the head clan, I sat with my family at the very front. Placed closest to the stage, second only to the Gods. It was the highest honour, something to wear with pride, yet I wanted to crawl away. I couldn’t help but curl my fist around my father’s robes in anticipation. While every eye was on the performer, I was the one who felt the burn of their gaze.

The blue flame was different. I was told I was born with divinity. But there was nothing divine about this flame Without a shred of warmth, something born in hell, far away from the fire of a hearth.

The flames that dance on a pyre.

An immortal bound in death.

Even now, years later, as I stared at the Khar-moon high in the sky I couldn’t help but remember the performance, the fire dancers, and the pit in my stomach.

One night before the feast of manana.

I tore my eyes away from the moon, no point in brooding over that now. I looked over at Sesshomaru and he was already halfway down the hill. Prideful steps, not even bothering to look over his shoulder. So, it had taken him about 4 seconds before he went back to his mutt like ways.

I shook my head, gathering the hem of my kimono so I wouldn’t trip and land on his head. Rin and Jaken could be anywhere down the mountain. And it was about time I greeted them.

❧

“It’s a human village.” I realised, “We’re staying here?” I asked, genuinely surprised. Sesshomaru and his disgust towards humans was more than apparent, why in the world would he set camp in a human village?

His eyes looked back as I trotted up to him. In the darkness of the night, it was hard to tell, but there something haunting about this place. I pulled my eyes towards the village again. There was a morbid silence that coveted the landscape. The small bamboo knit cottages looked empty, abandoned. Like a painting standing still before us, there was nothing alive in this village.

“It’s been deserted…” I stated. A strange nervousness settled in me,

“Humans.” He said, his voice basically a pained sigh, “cowardly creatures.”

I started back at him in horror, what kind of a person thinks a deserted human village is a good resting spot? Even I knew that humans emptying out entire villages was bad news. And not just the ayakashi kind, the apocalyptic prophecy kind.

“It better not be plagued.” I tell him,

Sesshomaru just scoffed in response, “Try and keep up.” He replied, “I won’t come searching for you a second time.”

I gave him a sarcastic smile before starting to walk.

A singular fire burned in the still landscape, like a dying ember. Despite everything that had happened in this short period, I had always found myself back here. Maybe it was suiting that I spend my last night with them. The khar moon was already high in the sky, and I could feel the exhaustion of the travel weigh down on my shoulders. I dragged my feet down, trying to push unnecessary thoughts away. Spending your last night in a plagued town. I thought, how poetic.

❧

Jaken cried more than Rin. Which was surprising.

“W-what a r-relief.” Jaken sobbed out loudly, I looked over at the goblin grinning, “You did miss me how cute.”

Rin ran into an embrace, her wiry arms clutching onto my kimono like she was afraid to let go again. There wasn’t anything childlike in the way she cried, no angry tears, no broken sobs, just silent tears of relief. I stood frozen in my place, just…unsure. My arms felt like lead, and in that moment despite how glad I was to see the human child alive I couldn’t make myself show it.

Something tugged at my heart, but I pushed it aside at once.

Humans are delicate creatures. Death comes to them swiftly, whisking them away like they never existed. Befriend them and you live on with their ghosts.

I patted her head awkwardly, “Hey it’s okay.” I said. “I’m okay.”

The child pulled away reluctantly, she nodded wiping a runny nose with the back of her hand, “are you s-sure?” she sobbed out.

I stepped back so I could give her a turn, “All good, see?”

Rin gave me a skeptical look, “You don’t look very good.” She replied.

I threw back my head and laughed, my voice ringing out in the midnight sky. I looked down at the kimono I was wearing. It was one of Sango’s pink ones, and I had really put it through hell and back. “Do you have a spare?” I asked jokingly.

Rin peeked a smile watching me laugh, a sense of relief rushing to her face. “Follow me!” she chirped, the old self I knew slipping back. I grinned at the little skip in her step as she sprinting down towards the cottage. “It’s the one behind the big tree!” she said giddily, pointing towards a bamboo knit cottage. I grabbed the hem of my kimono, not realising the easy smile lacing my lips and ran after her.

❧

Jaken patted down his own tears, “I’m so glad you found her Lord Sesshomaru!” He said, “Rin must be so relieved now.”

Sesshomaru grunted in response, watching the human child skip towards the cottage and the woman clutching on to the all too big kimono to keep up with her. The two of them laughed, bare feet skidding on the dew-covered grass. A human world of their own.

It had been less than a month since the strange woman had appeared, Sesshomaru shook his head, he had saved her. He assured himself. Returned her safely, yet the daiyokai couldn’t seem to quiet his thoughts. The haunting stories of the infamous blood moon somehow sneaking up on him, ringing constantly at the back of his mind.

He tossed his hair over his shoulder, turning away. Once the wretched crimson moon had passed us, he thought, It’ll be quiet again.

❧

Rin grinned wide, stretching out her hands to show all the space we suddenly had. This cottage was way better than any we had come across before. With all the travelling and avoiding humans, there was hardly any liveable spaces to begin with. Much less an entire village. Rin dug into one the chests in the cottage pulling out spare clothes, they had even left clothes behind.

This place… its like the humans had just randomly disappeared into thin air. They had left everything behind. Clothes, pots of grains and rice, children’s toys scattered on the grass like they had disappeared while playing.

I jumped as Jaken snored loudly in the background. This sound I had not missed.

Rin giggled at my expression, “Master Jaken couldn’t sleep at all, while you weren’t here.”

“That’s…” I started, “Surprising.”

I took the new kimono Rin had offered me, finally pulled off Sango’s borrowed one I had on. Man I had really put these poor clothes through the apocalypse. Every time I got a new one, I’d just get attacked by something or the other.

Rin’s eyes pinned on the bandages, wide with worry,

She opened her mouth but the words seemed to hang in her throat.

“Someone very skilled helped me with it.” I assured her, although I didn’t know if kagome’s grass medicine could be categorized as very skilled, it had saved my life like it was ambrosia of the Gods.

Naraku’s poison had quite literally charred through my skin, clumped out the flesh. Nothing I hadn’t seen before, but this mortal body didn’t heal the way my ayakashi one did.

“Does it still hurt?” she asked timidly.

“No.” I lied.

Her thumbs fiddled with the hem of the checkered fabric, “Who was the woman that attacked us?”

“Does it matter?” I asked. “We run into ayakashi all the time.” I said, She was so young. I thought, at her age all I cared about was chasing fire birds and setting yokai on fire. She shouldn’t feel the need to carry that much.

“This one unfortunately was the bad kind, that’s all” I tried to convince her, the lesser she knew about all this mess the better.

Rin’s face fell regardless,

What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I just thought…” Her voice wavered, lower lip quivering as she pulled on a brave façade, “I thought you got hurt.” She completed finally.

I turned on my side to look at her. Her eyes looked glassy from the tears, the runny nose and ears red from the cold, bony elbows sticking out of the blanket and a swelling mosquito bite on her cheek.

“No one would tell me what happened.” she said quietly. “Then Lord Sesshomaru left too, and I just had to wait here.” She completed.

Sudden anger flared in me, after everything she had witnessed, all he did was take off without a word? At least I was trying to make up lies.

“But it wasn’t just that.” Rin replied, cheeks puffed from trying not to cry, “It was that other thing.”

I turned my head towards her, “What do you mean?”

Rin’s face paled, uncertainty flickering in her eyes, “I don’t know what it was.” She started,

And I felt my heart drop. “I-, I think I saw something when we met that woman in the forest.”

“It wasn’t her, it felt darker,” her voice quivered, “Meaner, like there was something more than just the lady before us.”

She gulped, eyes glazing as she tried to remember, “It was all around her looming over the forest, like a spider made of shadows,” she said softly.

I felt myself holding my breath.

“It’s like I could feel how-” Tears welled up in her eyes again, “Wei, it wanted to hurt you so badly.” She croaked out.

Something bitter curled in my mouth,

Rin shook her head, her voice got very low, “I don’t even know if it was real, or I’m going crazy.”

She sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her hand, “but I know what I felt. I know it, even though I couldn’t see” her brow knitted in frustration, “And even though master Jaken said it was in my head.” her eyes finally met mine, she shuddered, “Am I crazy?”

I stared at her, out of all the things I thought she would have to say…

“You’re not crazy.” I told her, knowing that I should probably just agree with Jaken and tell her she dreamed it. Keeping her away from all of this mess was the best mercy I could grant her. And yet I couldn’t make myself lie to her. At the end of it she deserved to know the danger before us, something we would soon be facing down whether I like it or not.

“The spider…” my voice trailed, how much of everything do I even tell her. “He exists.” I confirmed.

Just the memory made the scars on my chest sting, “and he did want to hurt me.”

I pulled my eyes to the shadows on the hay roof of the cottage, dancing in the dark like the curling legs of the spider. His strength had completely caught me off guard and the helplessness I had felt in his clutches still haunted me. I hated to admit it but the thought that I would probably be dead before I see him again was relieving.

“Why?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

I shook my head, “What matters is that he couldn’t.” But he will try again and again. If he wants hellfire then I’m his only link to it. I pursed my lips,

Rin’s silence rang of hesitation.

“Lord Sesshomaru can protect us from him.” She finally said, trying to sound dutiful.

“Yeah.” I mimed out absently. Honestly I’d like to think that too. Sesshomaru hadn’t ever shown me the extent of his powers, But if Inuyasha and the others don’t stop him from mining that ore, maybe even the daiyokai of the east won’t be able to stop him.

“Could you sense him too?” she asked hopefully, “The way I did?”

I shook my head, “Not really.”

Thinking back to the encounter, my reaction was purely instinctual, I hadn’t even noticed naraku’s powers until after I was already in his void. It wasn’t uncommon for humas to see demons. But it was nearly impossible for them to sense their magic. And Rin had seen naraku’s miasma even before he had shown up.

My heart felt heavy, now the coincidences were getting too cruel.

“But,” I started, my mouth felt like sandpaper, “There are some humans who can see and sense more than others.” I told her.

In the east we called it the gift of Manana, blessed by the moon with the power of premonition. Someone who could see terrible things before they actually happened. Wei, the real Wei, had the same powers.

I gave her a pained smile, “Just think of it as a gift.”

Rin looked horrified, “I don’t want it.” She croaked out. “I don’t ever want to see anything like that again.”

“It’s not all too bad.” I replied, “I knew someone who had a similar ability. She could sense things, before they actually happened.”

Not that it prevented her death, I thought bitterly.

“So, I can learn how to control it?” Rin asked.

Wei had learned to control it, I remembered. It was painted in my mind like an ink scroll painting.

Her eyes lidded as she sat before the fire, and her face crinkling as I broke her meditation. She would hiss out of frustration when I continued to egg her on, her leaf green eyes opening wide, “even the toddlers in the village know better, y/n, Toddlers!”

I averted my eyes painfully, “I guess you can.”

Rin flexed her fingers as if expecting the magic to show up on her palms, “How do I do that?”

“I don’t know.” I replied quickly, pushing away the torrent of emotions that often-accompanied Wei’s memories.

“Maybe you could ask your friend.”

“No.” I replied sharply.

I can’t ask her. Not anymore.

They would have gotten along. I had realised that the moment I had met Rin. wet tears slipped down my cheekbones sliding over the shell of my ears.

"Wei are you crying?" Rin's sleep heavy voice called out,

I felt my vision grow cloudy.

"No." I sniffled.

Rin hand threw an arm over my torso, "it's okay" the child mumbled, "I missed you too."

“You say you wouldn’t do that for anyone.” She had sniggered, twirling the scared bells around before bonking it on my head,

I pushed her hand away angrily and she had laughed, “But I bet you’d do that for me.”

I sat up suddenly.

“Where are you going?” Rin asked,

“Go to sleep.” I told her, I ran a hand along the nape of my neck, it was drenched in sweat. The cottage was too warm, and my mind was too heavy with the thoughts. I pulled my hair up in a knot. It was my last night before my death, and I didn’t want to spend it under a covered roof.

❧

The spring looked prettier than usual, but it didn’t help that the water in it was biting cold.

I groaned as I lowered myself in the spring slowly. With the full moon on the morrow, there was no scarcity of moonlight. A view like that would have enchanted anyone, mortal or not. I sank into the numbing cold water, my fingers trailing over my arm absently. This body the curse had put me in had only started to feel like mine. It was brittle and lanky, so weak I dared not test its limits. But I had surprised myself with everything it did withstand.

Maybe it wasn’t that easy to kill humans after all.

With everything I had survived, I wondered how exactly death would come for me under the moon tomorrow. I let my head roll back in thought. I didn’t even have the capacity to think how I was to die tomorrow. I took in a deep breath pulling myself under the surface.

It felt calm underwater, the water cancelled out the sounds of the forest. God, what would I give to fall asleep under the surface just like this. This would be a nice death, like you’re drifting away to sleep. It would be a sad death; they probably wont even sing of me in the east. I stayed under water until my lungs screamed for air, eventually bopping my head up over the surface.

“human.”

His sight just left me frozen,

What the actual fuck was he doing here now.

It was a little pathetic how much I ogled him as he lowered himself into the spring slowly.

His body was that of a warrior, honed over the years, stripped with scars, some fading some brazen. I couldn’t imagine how many stories he had to tell about just the scars on his arms.

I tried to keep my eyes on his torso, trying not to dip any lower than the magenta marks around his waist.

But while the chilly mist rising from the spring was thick, it was not opaque enough. His shamelessness in my presence was surprising, but then again, he probably thought of me like a bug. Who covers themselves in front of insects?

Even in the hot spring, he settled down like a king on a throne. His silver hair pooled around him like molten starlight. With the damp hair matted across his forehead, and the slitted amber eyes peeking through the bangs, he looked every bit the god they painted him in the folk tales.

I averted my eyes awkwardly, heat rushing to my face. My body remembering the time he had actually let his reatsu out after we had hunted the boar. The way it had crawled over my senses, overwhelming me until I could feel it in the back of my throat- stop it. I screamed at myself, pressing my thighs together.

“What are you doing here?!” I snapped at him. Even after being in a human body my demon instinct still persisted and I did not have the time to deal with how badly my ayakashi-self wanted to ride him.

“Your scars.” He stated casually,

I looked down finally realising that I was also naked before him. I gulped, “urm, yes.” I replied awkwardly. In the moonlight it looked even worse than it actually was.

“It’s still poisoned.” He stated. “I can still smell his miasma off of you.”

I winced as he said that, brushing my fingers over the wounds. I had been afraid of that being the case, even without my ayakashi senses, I could feel the poison in the wounds, keeping them from healing properly. Remanets of his disgusting magic that have permanently branded themselves on my body.

“It will only fade in his death.” I sighed, a miasma like that is connected to an ayakashi’s soul.

“You won’t have to wait too long for that.” He replied.

I felt very cold, “What do you mean?” I whispered out.

His voice sent chills ran down my spine. “Isn’t it obvious?” he snarled out, “I am going to seek out the spider.”

My jaw slacked, “what do you mean seek him out?”

His eyes flicked towards me, already annoyed, “Do you think I’m a coward that sits back silently, Human?” he growled,

I shook my head, “You cannot defeat him.”

He snarled in reply, the sound making the hair on my arms stand.

“Not another word-” He growled out.

I felt a lump in my throat as his amber eyes narrowed, they were truly a beautiful colour, I forced myself to think clearly, “You don’t know what he’s capable of.” I told him.

Sesshomaru grunted, “How strong he seemed to a human like you is irrelevant.” He replied, “To so much so as look at someone under my protection was a death sentence.”

“He will pay for this insolence towards me. For even thinking of challenging me. For a spider like that to do this…” he growled out, “How humiliating.”

What stung my heart was how familiar it all was. His words, ego masquerading as nobility. How selfish the words truly sounded.

It sounded like me.

“To you?” I scoffed out, my voice low.

“I am standing here and I can fucking feel what he did to my body.” I told him, the scars, the phantom pain, the fear will never wash away. “And you have the audacity to talk about how he slighted you?”

My breathing was heavy and angry. “Because that’s what it is, isn’t it?” I said, “you’re just worried about what the world will think of you, the great daiyokai bested by a spider.”

Tears pricked at my eyes, “She used to tell me revenge is selfish, and I… I just couldn’t understand her.” I mumbled out.

My shoulders slumped; I am a fool.

All my fucking life, I had created an idea of myself. The great demigod, a ruthless warrior, and I had truly believed I was meant to live that life. But in the end, it had all been so meaningless. What had that gotten me? I had lived through my immortal life haunted by Wei’s voice, buried under the weight of her death. Tortured by just the thoughts of all that could have been. The whole truth shattered around me into a million pieces.

I buried my face in my fingers, my legs going very weak.

“What I thought would give her peace, was truly just a step I took for myself. I should have pressed that ego down. I should have stayed with her, somewhere I knew it was what my heart wanted. But I was scared that the act would be called too cowardly.”

“I failed her.” I completed. “I failed her in every way.”

The taunting voices in my head were dead silent.

“Tell me Sesshomaru.” I asked him, “Do you wish to kill him because by attacking me he questioned your authority? That you felt emasculated that someone under your protection was taken from right under your nose. Or is it truly because you wish to bring someone justice?”

He stared at me silently as I continued.

“There’s a difference, you know. A difference I just realised existed.” I shook my head, giving out a dry laugh.

“One you do for your own ego, to put someone who has defied you in their place. To tell the world that you aren’t the coward. The second…” my voice trailed away. Why hadn’t I understood such a simple thing when she was alive?

“What of the second, human?” he hissed out.

I looked up at the daiyokai sadly, “The second you do out of love.”

He actually laughed, which I soon realised was a lot more horrifying than his poker face.

He turned his head away, “It’s this trait of you humans that I cannot understand. You worry too much about your fragile lives, it’s foolish, weak.”

I frowned, my own anger bubbling up to the surface.

“Not only that, you begged me to abandon you to save her.” He continued.

His amber eyes slitted, the mountains around us seemed to shift, “you are fooled if you think you’re not weak.”

He’s exactly like me.

Rein in your temper daughter of the hills, the voices sang,

But you can’t put out fires from hell.

"You talk of how I'm lesser for saving Rin, yet you came crawling to search for me remember?!" I said pointing a wrinkly finger at him,

Sesshomaru looked like I had just slapped him across his face. The water around me chilled. I knew the moment I should stop yapping, but my bitter temper just continued to pour out.

“You’re the one that’s weak and cowardly.” I snarled out. “Cowering away under the guise of arrogance when all you have is your empty honour. Even the measly humans you seem to hate show more chivalry.”

His growl rang in my ears as he charged. Within a second his fingers were curled around my throat, pinning me down.

His hair fell around me like a rain of starlight, his ragged breath fanning my face as his fangs slipped out. My heart hammered in my chest, as he spoke, “You have constantly, tested my patience human.” His grip tightened around me, nails digging into my skin.

“Do it.” I spat out. The anger in his eyes flickered, taken aback with something of the same ferocity staring back. After everything I had gone through, with my death facing me down tomorrow, did he think a tantrum would scare me?

“You’re only angry because I’m right.” I gurgled out. “Wei tried telling me that.” I told him, watching his brow furrow with confusion. His grip loosened and I pushed him away.

,It may be that mortal lives are delicate, but they aren't like flowers that wilt away. Many like battle scars leave their mark. They are immortalised in memories, daughter of the hills. Even bound to death, they are worth living.

“Maybe my death will make you realise that.”

❧

I strode towards the camp angrily, in my rage I hadn’t even dried myself, just draped my kimono over my body, screamed at him and left.

I cringed a little, such dramatics. Couldn’t have just dried myself before making such impactful exit. Now the clothing along with me was sopping wet, water dripping down at my feet making small puddles as I walked back.

Something rustled making me halt. As I stared, a strange figure seemed to loom around the opening of the groove.

I furrowed my brow, the silhouette looked like that of a child that was crouched over. Did Rin follow me all the way here? I craned my neck, about to call her out when the figure spoke up first.

“Does mortality fare you well? Daughter of the hills?”

The voice was light and girlish, unrecognizable. My heart went still,

It couldn’t be.

The figure stepped forward, striding into the moonlight so I could see her.

It was a child, yet it wasn’t. The alarm that rang in my bones wasn’t from fear, it was recognition. The more I looked at her, the more inhuman she looked. Markings adorned her body, inky lines running up her face and arms, whorls made of runes mapped like galaxies on her body.

It was the same creature, that 14 moon before had appeared before me differently. My breath shallowed as time slowed around me.

The crone.

I raged towards the crone, but it felt like someone had tied boulders to my feet. Illusion magic? The invisible weight slammed me into the ground. The impact knocking the breath out of me.

She pointed a chubby finger at my face, “Have you learned nothing?”

I looked up at her aghast, the girl was no bigger than Rin, barefoot with windswept hair like she had just casually wandered out of a nearby village. She tossed a flat- stone between her hands, giving me a grin that missed a front tooth. “By now you should know you can’t compete with me.”

I growled angrily at her words, my nails dug into palms so hard I drew blood, while, she just watched me a mocking smile.

I knew it was the unnerving eyes, the iris was completely white, blinded by a cloudy white haze, like the moon peeking from behind clouds. Her unyielding gaze was pinned on me. I knew in that moment it was nothing but her gaze that had pinned me to the ground.

Don’t fucking stay down this time.

I pushed through the invisible weight with everything I had. The more I struggled against it the worse it seemed to get, gripping down my bones until they broke. I screamed through the pain, the pressure sending a stream of blood down my nose. The first time I couldn’t face her, this time- I will not go down that easily. With spots dancing before my eyes, I managed to drag myself up to my knees. My smouldering gaze finally met her, “Give m-!”

Within a second the pressure doubled, it felt like someone had grabbed my shoulders and slammed me back into the ground with a thud.

“Mmph!”

She put a hand to her ear theatrically, “I’m sorry, what was that?” the cheeky tone of her voice really pissed me off. “Couldn’t hear you with your face planted in the dirt.”

I looked up at her painfully, spitting out grass. “Give me...” I growled out. “My powers back.”

The kid gave me a toothy grin, “Even if I did,” She said cheekily, “You know your current body won’t be able to contain it right? Your flames are so ruthless, they won’t even show their own master any mercy.” She giggled as if it was the funniest thing in the world, “They’ll roast you from the inside out!”

I looked at her morbidly, “I miss the crone.”

The girl laughed, “We’re not much different.”

“Why are you here?” I asked. “What more could you possibly want?” I told her, “You have taken everything. Everything.”

My neck felt like it was going to snap from the pressure, “My powers, my body, everything that made me, myself. You stripped me of my very being” I cried out.

The creature sighed, “yes, how unfortunate.”

My anger surfaced again “You vile masochistic demon.” I snarled out, thrashing on the ground as the invisible force continued to pin me, “What did you gain by putting me through all of this?”

The child arched an eyebrow,

“So your mother levelling mountains because someone ticked her off is divine, but me cursing a sad demigod is vile?” She challenged, “Such double standards.” She said clicking her tongue, “I was right the first time, your ayakashi blood does make you stupid.”

My eyes widened, my mother?

I felt my mouth go very dry, I should have figure that the scorching light wasn’t just any spell, it was divine spirit energy. No ayakashi can put curses out like that. No, I realised bitterly, it wasn’t a curse at all, it was a prophecy.

A Goddess.

She could bend everything that the moonlight fell over. Bathed in divine light, the goddess of the crimson moon.

Just like the different phases of the moon she appears different each time.

Oh seven hells. Maybe I should apologise for calling her a masochist.

My jaw tightened, “You’re her.” I gasped out, goosebumps flooding my body, “You are Manana.”

A ghost of a smile played at her lips, the blind eyes crinkling at the sound of her name, “Well then,” she said, sounding very pleased. “Now that you know, we can actually begin.”

“What do you want?” I said, feeling the exhaustion in my bones. I had fought for this stupid human life for days, scrambling to keep myself alive. I hadn’t expected mortality to be so heavy.

“What I want?” She asked, giving out another laugh, “I thought you would be rubbing your nose at my feet begging me to spare your life tomorrow.” She completed. “Tell me daughter of the hills, do you not fear the fate tomorrow’s crimson moon will bring you?”

Considering how much it did scare me, I should have been begging her for life. For most demigods in the stories, begging for mercy to a Goddess worked out well.

“Unless..” She picked up on my thoughts, “That’s no longer what you wish for.”

I pulled myself to tell her what was truly ripping me from the inside, “If Naraku holds my dying heart, he’ll get his hands on hellfire.” I said,

“But my death will prevent that” I explained flatly, “There won’t be a beating heart to hold.” I told her bitterly. My eyes met her’s with a broken smile, “it’s not much, but I can accept a death like that.” It’s the best defence I can provide the others.

The ends of her mouth twitched, “Are you really naive enough to believe that something so mundane as death would stop him?” She replied, “There’s no stopping his ambition. He’ll find a way to attain your flames even if he has to carve out your corpse.”

No. I mouthed.

“That’s not what was supposed to happen.” I whispered out, my throat going very dry, my death won’t matter. He will continue to hunt everyone I will leave behind.

I curled my fists, “You don’t understand, this isn’t just about me anymore.” I looked up at her, trying to gather any shred of sympathy. “If he gets his hands on my flames, I–“ I shook my head, “I don’t even know what all he would be capable of.” I looked up at sudden desperation closing up my throat, “No one else understands.”

“Not Sesshomaru not inuyasha and the others, they don’t fucking understand how powerful he is.” But I do.

I felt the brunt of his powers firsthand, the poison in his miasma and how his talons tried to carve out my heart. “They will not be able to stand up to him.”

“And?” she asked.

My words faltered, “And?” I cried out angrily, My voice cracked, “The death and destruction he will bring would be a thousand times worse than what I did.”

“Human lives obviously.” The Goddess said, “Naraku’s descent into power will spark a war bartered in lives, ayakashi and humans.” She flicked the flat-stone and it disappeared mid-air.

“But it’s a war that does not concern you.” She said, “It is something you won’t even have to deal with at all. What has changed so much, that it has you pleading, daughter of the hills?”

“That doesn’t…” I pursed my lips, no longer knowing what exactly to say. I will die tomorrow. And whatever fucked up shit naraku is brewing I won’t be a part of it. Wasn’t that the easiest way out of it?

“I can’t just leave now.” I said finally, my head dropped, No matter how much the fire clan sang about glorious deaths, and how much I thought I desired a gore-y end on a battlefield. I realized I wanted to live. Even as a sad, unattractive, mortal, mountain girl. I still wanted to live. Especially now. Especially now that I’m-

My voice quivered, “I’m leaving behind too much.” I rasped out. “With my hellfire, I can give them a chance.”

“What does it really matter which tyrant holds the flames?” She tilted her head, “Do you think he would use it any different than what you did?”

The world around me went very still. Hellfire isn’t something I deserved either.

I begged her, “I know… I know I deserve my end.” I bowed to the divinity before, surrendering every sense of ego I had, “So please, Please” -

I thought of Rin and Kagome, and all those who had shown me so much kindness. They would all fall under his hand, hounded by my flames. The same flames I could have used to protect them. Even if I can’t change my destiny.

“I don’t have anything else to barter.” I replied, “You already have my life, so I can only beg this to you.”

“You can’t let Naraku get my flames.” I told her,

“I don’t care what you have to do to this body for that.” I continued, burned, eaten by animals, “Whatever brutal death I’m fated to tomorrow” I said, “Please, make sure it rids my entire existence, and I’ll pull my hellfire back into hell with me.”

There was a momentary silence, where I thought, she would start laughing again. But the Goddess just hummed curiously.

“Fine then, daughter of the hills.” She spoke, the voice ringing out hauntingly in the grove.

My eyes widened

“Tomorrow when death comes for you, I’ll allow you a chance.”

The Goddess beckoned her powers and magic shook the forest awake. I could feel the ancient, strange spirits of the forest peek over the shadows around us. Stirring from years of slumber to witness another prophecy.

Her white iris gleamed, “Just one.”

I stared at her in absolute silence. Just like the first time I had encountered her, the temperature around me dropped, making my ears ring painfully.

The tips of her lip curled, “I’ll give you one chance to change your destiny, where you can seize back your flames, return to a life of immortality.”

As I watched, the markings on her face began to glow, knowing what was coming I shielded my eyes from the blinding light. It still seemed to sear into my skin, like I had embraced a burning star.

“Daughter of the hills, death will come for you under the crimson moon.” Her voice boomed around me, “But as the blood moon rises for my feast, I shall grant you one final bargain. Take it, and you’ll find your flames again.”

When the light died, I was still on the ground, my kimono soiled from dirt and sweat. As I came to myself, I felt my heart hammer in my chest, a singular thought running in my mind.

Even if the earth splits open and the sky shatters around me, even if it was nearly impossible, even if I only had one chance, somehow, anyhow, I had to survive.

❧

“Wei!” Rin called out in the darkness and I jumped.

In the dark she looked like a little tent, sitting up on her knees the moment I walked back into the cottage.

“Didn’t I tell you to sleep?” I sighed,

The child looked at me expectantly, “I was thinking about what you said earlier.”

I shook my head, far too exhausted to think about this again, “Rin I really don’t want to talk about this.”

“Hear me out.” She persisted as I dropped down on the mattress beside her.

“Next time.” She told me, “When I see something, we can just run away together.”

She said it with such sincerity I wheezed. That did seem like a simpler solution.

“Don’t laugh!” Rin said, her fingers tugged the sleeve of my kimono, “Promise me.” She said seriously, “Promise me that the next time we’re in danger you won’t stay back alone.” her sound was barely was a whisper, but it hung in the icy air like a sword over my neck.

“Promise me that we’ll run away together.”

I stared back at her,

One chance.

I tried to give her a small smile. One

A fool’s bargain, yet a bargain nonetheless.

“I promise.”

❧

GUESS WHICH SLOTH JUST UPLOADED?????

#sesshomaru #rin #inuyasha #reader x sesshomaru #lord sesshomaru #sesshomaru x reader #inuyasha fanfiction #sesshomaru imagine

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sarahwroteathing · 6 months

Text

Cozy Season

[Wanda Maximoff x Reader]

A/N: Just a little drabble about spending time at a harvest festival with Wanda. Nothing but happy, cozy vibes here. About 700 words

The day was cold and damp, overcast skies glowing a pale grey, not quite dark enough to threaten more rain, but close. Chill air swirled with orange, gold, and scarlet around you. Once brittle and crackling beneath your feet, the fallen leaves had gained a supple new life after the late morning rains. One stuck to Wanda’s jeans, framing itself with darkened denim as its collected rainwater soaked into the fabric. She didn’t seem to notice, too enamored with the paper cup of apple cider she cradled between her palms, smiling serenely as the fragrant steam bathed her face.

“You made a friend,” you said, tapping her thigh just above the leaf. Soft orange veined with red.

She hummed contemplatively before reaching down to peel it away.

“She loves me…” Wanda made a show of checking for more leaves, twisting to check her backside with a thoughtful frown. “Well, that was easy.”

“I can throw some more leaves at you if you’d like,” you offered.

“It’s too late now. The leaves have exposed you.”

“Damn.”

She giggled, looping one arm around your waist to tug you closer and raising the cider towards your lips in a silent offer. You reached up to stabilize the cup as you took a sip.

“We definitely need to buy a gallon of this before we leave.”

“And some of those tiny pumpkins,” Wanda added. “And something from the bakery stands.”

“Supporting local vendors is very important. I think we’ll also need fifty fancy soaps. Maybe some candles,” you said with a sage nod that set her laughing again.

Her smile was so wide and genuine, eyes sparkling with such unbridled delight, it made you want to hold her forever. And maybe that was a bit impractical, so you’d take what you could get, brushing a kiss over her cheekbone before leaning your head against hers. And you stayed that way, huddled together and communicating with soft voices and softer smiles until the cider was gone and the clouds parted enough to afford you glances of pale sunlight.

There were picnic tables nearby, scattered loosely within the horseshoe of stalls selling everything from honey and jam to sweaters and ceramics. Families and friends settled there, happily chatting, sharing baked treats and admiring their more long-lasting purchases.

An elderly lady held a newly-purchased sweater up against her son, nodding her satisfaction that it seemed the right size. A little girl showed off her new bracelet to her brother, who was adequately charmed by the tiny silver acorns. A few tables away, three teenage girls and two boys were trying to throw bits of kettle corn into each other’s mouths with single-minded focus, cheering for rare moments of good aim.

“I love this,” Wanda said quietly, taking in the small harvest festival with a serene smile.

“Yeah, it’s cute, right?” you sighed happily. “This was a great idea.”

“It is, but that’s not what I meant.”

When you looked to her in question, Wanda was taking advantage of the parting clouds, her face tilted up to catch the sunshine. Your heart gave a little flutter, and you reached out to loop a lock of her hair around your finger.

“What did you mean then?”

Wanda looked down, smiling at the absentminded motions of your fingers in her hair. She gave a carefree shrug.

“Just… Thanks for being normal with me.”

You gasped dramatically.

“How dare you call me normal.”

She gave an inelegant snort, falling into you plaintively as you laughed at her reaction. She silenced you in her own lovely way, with lips still flavored by tart apple and warm cinnamon.

“Does this mean you’re not going to cheat in the corn maze?” you whispered against her lips.

“It means I will consider not cheating in the corn maze.”

The two of you lapsed into giggles again, giddy and nearly overwhelmed by the easy, cozy joy of the day. The sun’s valiant attempts to provide warmth despite the damp ground and chill wind did nothing half as well as Wanda, who almost seemed to glow in her contentment and tucked herself so tightly against you that it seemed she would be a permanent fixture there.

And in this moment, that was exactly what you both wanted.

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

I hope October is treating you kindly, my friends. Let me know if you enjoyed this. My first time writing Wanda

Tags: @shifutheshihtzu @internalbullshit @lilasiannerd-blog @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @iwillbeinmynest @scotlandasshole @netflixa @hardcorehippos @singingprincessstudent @sophiealiice @tinuviel015 @a-book-pressed-rose @bbparker @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun @feelmyroarrrr

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff drabble

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jaetaimjadore · 10 months

Text

EVERYDAY VIGNETTES THAT REMIND ME OF ENHYPEN

Pairing: enhypen x reader

Genre: fluff with a touch of angst

Warnings: some suggestive themes, mentions of sexual tension (nothing explicit whatsoever), mentions of food and alcohol, please let me know if i've missed anything else :)

Word count: 1.08k

a/n: this is just a compilation of the silly little musings running through my head that i just so happen to associate with each enha member, so, really, i thought why not share it with you guys? hehehe. enjoy <33

이희승︱Lee Heeseung

Tired lovers whose heads rest upon each other in the quiet corner of a subway. Lying upside down on the sofa just because you can. Playing with another’s hands. Smiles that find two faces at the same time. Thanking yourself for exercising when you really didn’t feel like it. The shimmering lights of a cityscape at night. Admitting that you made a mistake. Remembering that you’re one in eight billion. The sultry flicker of a gaze between two eyes. Silver cufflinks. Better by Khalid. Admiring someone as they ramble on about the things they love. Sexual tension that blinds everything around it. Black button-ups. Sudden moments of crippling nostalgia. Compulsively slapping a sack of rice at the supermarket. Dedicating a hoop to someone and missing by a mile. The irresistible scent of your best friend’s shampoo. The dream that left you feeling butterflies the entire day.

박종성︱Park Jongseong

Monotone outfits. Your phone falling onto your face when scrolling in bed. Red, hot lipstick stains littered on the smooth skin of a neck. Gold necklaces and gold earrings. The calming reassurance that you tried your best. Pulling off your socks after a long, exhausting day. Waking up to the rain of a thunderstorm. The moment you realise your enemy is actually kind of hot. Eye contact that brings with it an endless wave of goosebumps. Round-rimmed spectacles sitting low on a nose. The bubble of champagne in a glass. The click of shoes on shiny tiles. Gallery visits but the art on the walls isn’t what you're staring at. Fond shakes off the head. The muscle that moves so visibly beneath a fitted shirt. A protective hand finding itself hovering over a lower back. Bumping into a glass door and playing it off cool. When one person cooks dinner and the other washes the dishes. A breathy chuckle that grazes the cusp of an ear.

심재윤︱Jake Sim

Almost losing your balance when the sand under your feet glides back into the ocean. The warmth of skin under a cool duvet. Wet smooches from your dog. That one perfect strand of hair you wish you could keep that way forever. Sudden bursts of inspiration that make you feel like you can conquer the world. Kisses on the temple. Kisses on a smile. Hands squeezing hips. Barely contained laughter. The deep regret of walking away. Jumping up to touch the top of a doorframe. Wholeheartedly believing in the five second rule. “You’re perfect to me” whispered in the early hours of morning. Key smash conversations over text. A silver chain that dangles down onto your lips. The one eye that opens to the dawn of a new day. The brief fluttering in your chest when the carousel horse rises up once again. Cold fingers that caress the skin beneath your shirt.

박성훈︱Park Sunghoon

Sunglasses worn indoors because you forgot to take them off. Messy latte art that means so much more because it’s the effort that truly counts. Loosely intertwined fingers. Long walks during the freezing winter months. Lip bites and hooded eyes in moments of lust. Looking in the mirror and loving what you see. The divine feeling of velvet beneath your fingertips. Staring up at a skyscraper and almost stumbling backwards. Letting someone win because you love them so dearly. Soft lips planted on soft knuckles. Solemn wishes made on stray eyelashes. Throwing your head back in uncontrolled laughter. Red high heels. Refusing to get out of bed on Sunday morning. Gliding your fingers through silky soft hair. Going through with something you swore you’d never do. Cat-walking your entire closet at an ungodly hour of the night. Strong arms guiding you to sit down on a lap.

김선우︱Kim Sunoo

The taste of the colour yellow. When a piece of clothing fits just right. Finding a picture in your camera roll taken by mistake but keeping it because it looks cool. The indescribable happiness of a clear, blue sky. Light academia and dark academia. The one shoulder you know you can lean on. The hoot of an owl. Realising just how close your lips are to your lover's. The desperate longing to run away from reality for a while. Elbow nudges that silently ask if you’re okay. When the raindrop you were rooting for wins its race down the window. Two warm hands cupping your cheeks. Literally Netflix ‘n chilling all night long. Golden hour that highlights the magic in someone’s eyes. Feeling young and fresh even when you’re old and weathered. New year’s resolutions that inspire positive change…even if it's just for a month. Immediately dropping your bags and jumping on the hotel bed. The hug you didn’t realise you needed so badly.

양정원︱Yang Jungwon

That perfume you caught one whiff of and immediately wanted to own. Spontaneously realising the beauty of the world around you. The flying wisps of hair that tickle your forehead on a windy day. Chequered Off The Wall sneakers. Sleeveless jumpers. The innocent brush of lips on lips. The words of wisdom that found you in a time of need. The entire grentperez discography. Safe hands stroking your head. The same hands ruffling your hair. Making snow angels in the winter. The memory from your childhood that fills you with the most happiness. When you can’t decide if you’re feeling hot or cold. Legs that entangle together among the sheets. Wondering if there really are more atoms in the human eye than stars in the universe. Nicholas Sparks movies. Falling in love with a song after hearing it for the first time. Late-night drives with no particular destination in mind. Foreheads that touch as eyes slowly flutter closed.

西村力︱Nishimura Riki

That beautiful pain in your chest when thinking of the one you love. Lifting your feet from the pedals while riding your bike down a hill. Marmalade streaks that paint the sky at dusk. The moment you realise you’ve fallen in love. The warm smile of a random stranger. Knowing your inner child is gradually healing with time. Pulling your hood up when in a particularly rebellious mood. The moment a maths question finally clicks. Pinkie promises that last a lifetime. The sheer agony of dropping the last chip on the ground. When opposites attract. The tickle of a nose in the crook of a neck. Cuddling close during a scary movie. Trying not to crack a smile when the person scolding you stumbles over their words. Watching the tide wash over the initials you’d etched into the sand. The cheesy quote that actually inspired you one day. The familiarity of your own bed after parting with it for so long. Ignoring your friend when your eyes find the person across the room.

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mncxbe · 7 months

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Jimmy,Jimmy cocoa puff☆

𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: fluff♡/ slice of life/ Dazai in Greece <little warning for mentions of scars> kinktober is here so ofc I serve Dazai fluff

Escapism.

That's how this could be called. On a deserted beach somewhere in Greece, far away from home. With you under a cheap umbrella bought from a store nearby.

Colours seemed to have been sucked out of the world: the jade green and deep blue of the sea and the sky above were replaced by silver grey. Even the golden sand had a muted colour, the shade of oat milk, and rain poured down from the clouds; steadily, never ending.

But you... you were as radiant as always. Even now in this pearly light your face was bathed in glow.

Your features stood out on the dulled background. The mocha brown of your hair and eyes; the latter dotted with specs of gold, your tiger stripe red nail polish (a silly design you picked as a joke after your visit to the Kanazawa Gardens back in Yokohama, two weeks ago) and the charcoal black of your bathing suit were all so vivid.

He watched as you rose a bottle of green tea to your lips and took a sip.

"So... what do we do now?" you asked suddenly, your words muffled by the sound of falling rain.

Dazai only shrugged in response, gaze scanning his suroundings. The sky seemed to melt into the sea before his eyes, lines of droplets connecting the above and below, forming a capsule around the two of you. And behind, the rocky road that went back to town, which seemed to be flooding.

"Leaving certainly isn't an option" he replied, pointing at the swamped road and you turned your head to take a look; letting out a disappointed huff.

"Guess we gotta stay here for a while."

You moved your deckchair closer to his in attempt to shelter yourself from the rain and reached for your bag, checking to see if your belongings were still dry.

Dazai watched your every movement the same way an artist looks at his muse; with adoration, longing and just a shadow of sadness. Still, he couldn't deny how ironic this whole situation was:

"Don't let the rain upset you bella. It'll pass soon" he cooed "Plus. It could've started raining when we were in town or something."

"Oh spare me love" you chuckled in response. "It's cold and my book and clothes got wet"

Despite your complains you didn't seem mad at all. There was a certain aura of peace surrounding you at all times, especially now.

"It is beautiful tho." you added, pointing a manicured finger towards the horizon "It's like the world caved in and now it's just us left."

The brunette reached for your hand and took it in his own, softly running his thumb over your knuckles. "That wouldn't be bad at all actually"

Suddenly you got up from your chair at tip-toed towards the water, pulling Dazai after you. Your boyfriend's lips curled into a playful smile as you stepped into the water.

"Bella... you know I can't-"

"Shut up 'same. Your bandages are gonna get wet from the rain anyway. Come on"

And indeed, the humid air and droplets of rain made his loose shirt stick to his skin and he felt his bandages dampen.

And so he followed you into the grey sea, water rising around the two of you with each step you took. Ankel level, knee high, to your thighs and hips and soon enough waist. Still, you didn't stop until you were almost completely submerged.

Just then you turned to face him, hair moist and sticking up from place to place, a wide smile stretched on your lips. Wrapping your arms around his neck you pulled yourself closer to him as his hands instinctively came to rest on your plush hips.

Before he got a chance to say anything you closed your eyes and tiled your head back, allowing the cold rain to dapple your skin.

And oh how beautiful you looked. In this very moment Dazai stopped paying attention to his slowly loosening bandages, to the cold breeze that made his skin tingle; it was only you and him now.

Soon enough you began humming a tune, a nostalgic melody he recognized but couldn't remember the name of. Lulled by your song he closed his eyes, lowering his forehead to yours.

Sweet minutes have passed like this, the two of you completely absorbed in one another until Dazai finally opened his eyes to meet your own and his heart sank.

Your expression conveyed an image of pure adoration and devotion which made his blood rush to his cheeks, a soft blush tinting his face.

"What you looking at me like that for?" he teased, doing his best to cover up his emotions but failing miserably.

"Like what?" you responded in the same mischevious tone, nails lightly grazing the back of his neck.

Dazai sighed deeply, inching closer to you until his lips were touching yours and he whispered.

"Like you love me"

You smiled against his lips. "Well I do love you Osamu". You spoked those words in a matter of fact way, like it was the most natural and obvious thing in existence. But they meant so much to him. No one had told him they loved him. Ever.

Closing the distance between you your boyfriend pulled you in for a gentle kiss, cold lips lingering against your own as he uttered a hushed "I love you too Y/N"; like a promise made to the Gods.

Just then a loud rumble sounded from somewhere above, causing you to pull away and swiftly swim towards the shore.

"Shit. Maybe we should get out of the water. I heard people got struck by lightning here."

"There's no way that happened." he chuckled but followed you close by.

"I mean technically it could happen. It's an open space"

"Whatever you say bella." he said back, amused by your pointless worries.

When you got back to the beach Dazai wrapped a towel around your bare shoulders and began pulling at the ends of his unraveled bandages.

"Guess that's it for them"

You watch him pull the soaked strings of cloth through the holes of his sleeve and did your best not to look at his skin which was painfully visible through the translucent material of his shirt.

Instead you handed him a towel and reached for the bottle of green tea.

"Want some too?" you asked when he took a seat on his chair, towel draped over his shoulders.

"Sure"

The rain showed no signs of stopping so you simply laid back and made yourself comfortable in the mesh fabric of your chair, gaze lost somewhere in the distance.

Dazai took a sip of the tea, the taste of synthetic sweetener and fresh tea lingering on his tongue.

He watched you watch sea, the horizon, the mass of grey that your world was and wished, for only a split second, that this moment would last forever. That the two of you could spend the rest of eternity on this forgotten beach, far away from your actual life, in this sanctuary of nature.

And by the look in your eyes when you finally turned to face him, he could tell that you wished for the same thing.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd fluff #dazai osamu #bsd dazai #dazai bsd #dazai x reader #osamu x reader

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effervescentdragon · 6 months

Note

Vampire AU - whatever pairing you want I just want biting and some rancid vibes 😹

not quite rancid, except for your hate towards certain people. but maybe funny? im still in a certain headspace, as you can see. i call this "the one in which carlos is bella swan" in my head

Carlos remembers the story Fernando once told him, about his grandfather and the way he worked in a factory. He was pretty sure the story was bullshit, but Fernando was hillariously drunk, and that's when he usually let things slip. Carlos has learned more about the incestuous fuckfest that was the grid in 2010s than he ever wanted to know that way.

He also learned more about Sebastian Vettel than he ever could imagine wanting to know, but that's another story.

The point of this story was - quality control. Nando's grandfather apparently worked in a factory furing the war (and Carlos isn't asking which one, because Fernando is old), and he complained about there not being enough quality control about - shelling? Or shelving. Carlos isn't sure, and he definitely isn't going to ask because he doesn't really care and it's not even that relevant for the story of now, except it's all he can think about when he watches Lando hiss in pain and struggle to get the new watch Carlos had brought him off his wrist.

"It's got fucking silver in it!" Lando yelps, and throws the watch on the floor.

"No it doesn't," Carlos says, more confused than he ever has been in Lando's company (and those couple of times when he fell asleep beside Lando in the hotel rooms all over the world before and after the races and Carlos woke up dizzy and disoriented and hard don't count). "It's pure gold. I know you don't like silver, so I bought you gold."

Lando scoffs. "The fuck it is," he says, pain evident in his voice as he rubs his reddened wrist. "I don't know what bullshit your sponsors are feeding you guys, but there's definitely silver in this."

Carlos frowns, coming closer and taking Lando's hand in his. His wrist is swollen and a very unhealthy shade of red. "I didn't know you were alergic."

Lando's eyes shift to the side. "Yeah, I - I'm alergic," he says. "A pretty bad allergy." He chuckles. "Life-threatening."

Carlos feels like he's missing the joke. He feels like that a lot with Lando, except it never feels like the joke is on him, more like Lando is being hard on himself.

"I'm sorry," he says sincerely, trailing his fingers over Lando's skin. "I didn't know. I'll have a word with Richard Mille representative."

Lando's eyes are huge in the dim light of the room when he looks up at Carlos. It takes everything in him not to tighten his hold on Lando's wounded wrist.

"No problem, mate. It's the thought that counts anyway." Lando shifts a bit, and Carlos lets go. "I'll be fine. Wanna play FIFA?" He shakes the sleeves of his hoodie until they are covering half of his hands.

Carlos feels like he's missing something. He feels bad about the watch, though, so he only nods. "Sure."

Lando grins at him, and it's alright.

Except.

Except, when Carlos says goodbye that night, he catches a glimpse of Lando's wrist.

It's pale pink, and not swollen anymore.

Carlos watches Lando during the post race interview. His cheeks are a bit flushed, but he's still very pale. They've just spent a whole week on the beach and Carlos has an even darker tan than usual, but Lando is still extremely pale.

Carlos can't remember Lando using sunscreen once on their vacation.

He watches Lando until Caco elbows him in the ribs, muttering "Obvious and oblivious, my fucking God."

"He never sleeps," Oscar says offhandedly. "He texts me the weirdest shit at like, four in the morning, and then he's right as rain in the sim at seven." He turns to Carlos. "Was he always like that?"

Carlos ignores the gnawing in his stomach at the fact that Lando texts Oscar randomly. Before he can answer, Alex does.

"Oh my God, yes! He used to be the same when we were kids, never fucking sleeping. George, do you remember that one time..." he continues, but Carlos isn't listening.

Carlos can't remember a time when they were together and Lando fell asleep first.

"Aren't you hungry?" Max asks Lando on the plane taking them all back to Monaco.

"Nah," Lando replies, eyeing Max's burger with a mix of apprehension and disgust. "I ate before, plus, that just looks like an extra hour in the gym, and I don't wanna do that."

Max shrugs. "Suit yourself, weirdo."

Lando kicks him under the table and then leans back in his seat, fishing his earphones out. He catches Carlos' eye as he does so, and smiles.

Carlos smiles back instinctively, as he always does. Lando's lips look very red in his pale face. When he ducks his head, Carlos thinks he sees a flash of something sharp.

It must be the light, he thinks. Or the exhaustion.

It's probably both.

"Do you have an oral fixation, mate," George laughs, leaning on the fence. "You're always sucking on that straw, what are you even drinking?"

Lando shrugs, flipping George off for good measure. "You have an oral fixation," he replies, pulling his lips away from the straw. "And it's a protein smoothie, you dickhead."

Carlos watches him lick the remnants of his drink away. His lips are still stained red with it.

"Does it taste good?" he hears himself ask.

Both Lando and George turn to him, but Carlos is focused on the way Lando's eyes shift to the side for just a second before he scrunches his nose. "Not the best I've ever had, but good enough." He shrugs. "New recipe. Strawberries."

Carlos has a mild allergy to strawberries, so he can't ask to try it, at least not just before the race.

Lando knows Carlos is alergic to strawberries.

The race was a disaster, as are most of them lately. Carlos lies in his bed, finally free after the debrief. He can't sleep. His mind turns and turns around, and for once, he isn't thinking about the race data.

His phone is opened on the Google start page. Before he knows what he's doing, he types.

allergy to silver aversion to food paleness doesnt sleep symptoms disease

He knocks on the door too loudly for the early hour of the morning. There is shuffling, and then Lando opens the door.

"Carlos? What the fuck, mate, it's like, three in -"

"I thought silver was for werewolves."

Lando stops speaking. Carlos thinks he might have stopped breathing, too. That wasn't what he was going to say, but fuck it, it's what came out.

"What?" Lando says slowly. "What are you talking about?"

Carlos would've thought he was crazy, except. Except Lando's eyes flicker to the side, and Carlos knows how Lando looks when he is lying.

"I thought silver hurt werewolves. That's the myth," he repeats. "But you're not a werewolf. I don't think." He takes a breath. "You're a vampire."

He isn't looking away from Lando. He can't. He stares right into Lando's eyes and sees the emotions and the calculations in them as they happen, and he isn't going away until he knows, because he isn't crazy, he knows what he knows, he knows he isn't imagining things and -

"Fuck," Lando breathes out, his shoulders sagging. "Fuck, I'm so screwed," he says, and then pulls Carlos inside his room and shuts the door, but not before Carlos sees his fangs elongate and protrude, biting into his bottom lip.

Fuck, he thinks, and then, hot.

#i had much fun writing this xD #carlando #vampire au #f1 rpf #effervescentdragonwrites #my writing

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bloodfin · 6 months

Text

hi yes hello having some thoughts about hands and rings and did you ever think about how 🤌🤌🤌 it is to watch someone play with the large collection of rings on their hands? how intimate it is to watch them take the rings off, one by one,,

raindrop drabble below

It was the anniversary of Rain's summoning, and Dew wanted to make the evening special. He spent all afternoon making Rain's favorite meal, and then ended up ordering it for delivery when he burnt half of it anyways. At least his not-too-sweet fudgey brownies came out well, if the noise Swiss made when he sampled one was any indication.

But Dew couldn't focus on his meal, couldn't focus on all the plans he had made for after dinner, with Rain looking like that. He had sauntered into the dining room in the single tightest black pants to have ever been made and a flowing white shirt with long, fancy sleeves. He had even dove deep into his jewelry collection, adorning his horns with a few rings, changing out his earrings, and adding a short pearl necklace.

But where Rain really went all out, as if the fine layer of mascara and high dusting of dark navy blush wasn't enough, were his hands. Every finger had at least one ring, his ouroboros ever present on his right index finger. Some were at midi-length, some stacked. All types of gold and silver, varying in intricacy and stones. In particular Dew's eyes were drawn to the blood red ruby that sat on Rain's left pinky, glinting in the candlelight.

He was salivating, and as good as dinner was, that wasn't why.

"You with me droplet?"

Rain's deep voice shook Dew out of his lustful haze, just long enough for him to snap his eyes to meet Rain's.

"Of course love," he smiled, eyes dropping back down to Rain's hands as he began to spin the ouroboros, slow and steady.

"Sure?" Rain smiled, head cocked dangerously to the side. "You seem a little distracted."

Dew flushed. "Maybe a little."

Rain hummed knowingly. He knew exactly what he was doing when he got dressed for this dinner, pulling out all the stops.

Dew sucked in a sharp breath when Rain reached across the table, studying his hands. He only wore a midi ring himself, preferring the jewelry that decorated his ears and the spade of his tail.

"So much real estate," Rain purred, studying Dew's long, skinny fingers. "We could always get you a few of your own."

Dew hummed, curling his fingers into Rain's, leaning down to kiss the back of his hand. He was pressing a line of kisses into Rain's knuckles when he snapped his eyes back up, Rain's words settling deep into his brain.

"Unless, of course, you'd rather wear one of mine."

Dew looked briefly down at Rain's hand, still clutched in his own, before dragging his heated gaze back up. His mouth was suddenly dry, his temperature slowly increasing.

"Please."

Rain smiled, pulling his hand from Dew's, examing the jewelry adorning his fingers. Dew couldn't help but stare, watching as Rain twisted each ring off of his nimble fingers, far too slow for his taste.

He chose to round the table, nuzzling into the side of Rain's neck so he could see better, listening carefully as Rain gave little details about a few pieces he wore.

"This was from you, shortly after I was summoned. It's too small now, which is why I wear it here."

He pulled off the midi ring on his right index finger and dropped it onto the tablecloth, the ouroboros below it remaining untouched.

"Mountain found this one," he explained, the dark silver twisted band joining the simple gold one on the table. Dew couldn't help but to press open mouthed kisses against Rain's neck and jaw, whining at each thunk on the table as another ring joined the ever growing pile.

"Now this one," Rain breathed, pulling the ruby off his pinky and turning it in the light, "is special. I had it engraved."

Dew squinted to see the small writing on the inside of the band, something no one but Rain and he would ever know about. His hands squeezed against the chair, the words good boy staring back at him. The ruby he'd never seen before, that so thrilled him, was meant for him all along.

He almost jumped out of his skin when Rain went to set it on the table with the rest.

"No," he whispered, reaching out to take it in his own fingers and slide it back onto Rain's. "Keep it on. Please?"

Rain hummed, turning his hand in the light.

"You're sure? The edges can be sharp, just like someone I happen to know."

Dew started nodding before repeating just how sure he was, pressing another kiss under Rain's ear.

"Wanna earn it, don't you," Rain rumbled, turning in his chair to stand. He took Dew's chin in his hand, feeling him swallow hard as his teal gaze bore into him. It would be a night of claiming, starting now. A renewal of every promise they ever made to each other, bound with a blood deep stone. Dew nodded his agreement, every plan to shove Rain up against their bedroom door slipping quickly from his mind, thanking Lucifer for the blessing that stood before him.

"Go ahead then, little one. Get on your knees."

#rain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #raindrop #i wrote this on my phone and didn't proof it so if you see mistakes no you don't #the way rain's hands and rings have been in my brain non-stop is just unreal #the fixation is fixating

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miss-celestia13 · 8 months

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Silver and Gold

Fluffy JakexMC One Shot

Words: 1.8k

On Friday, I posted Jake and MCs first real date. And after that date, they spent the night together. But I left it to the imagination as I planned to write the scene at some point. That point was today. I can’t hold onto anything to save my life, so with the fear of you getting sick of the sight of me, here it is.

Super soft, fluffy, and sweet smut. It is not explicit or graphic. The focus is on emotions and love, all the things Jake thinks and feels. It’s very different to my usual kind. I wanted to try my hand at the softer side. It’s more akin to a weird poem than smut, to be honest🤭❤️

The date that led to this - Sweeter Than Fiction

Jake

He never saw the end of the movie. Finally relaxed and settled in his own skin, they’d camped on her old, worn couch and watched some 80s horror movie. But she was very distracting. She was a warm weight pressed against his side, her head on his shoulder and hand curled into his shirt, twisting and clenching during tense or dire moments. When she looked up to gauge his reaction, his face heating as she caught him staring, he didn’t question the urge and kissed her before he could second guess it. Her little hum of contentment made him smile into it. Something akin to anticipation was heavy on her tongue as she surged up and pressed closer, her hands glided through his hair.

This kiss was different. He could sense it like a current in the air, thrumming quietly under the beat of his heart. It was leading somewhere, and he was very aware of it as a tingling sensation trickled down his spine, and he was warm all over like he’d been dipped into a hot bath. Soft breaths were shared between two lungs; the air she gave him was sweeter than any honey. Lust and passion were two different things, and he understood why now. Lust was a flimsy, impermanent, and hard-to-control thing. What was left once the lust burned away? But passion was felt to the marrow. It was a want, no, a need to love and give love in return, to feel and declare that love without words. Lust you could walk away from. But he could never walk away from this, from her.

She parted from his lips with a breathless little murmur and looked at him through hooded eyes, trust flashing in their depths as she said, “We can just go to bed, Jake. Say the words, and we’ll go to sleep.”

His chest was tight, and the nerves he thought would be present were decidedly quiet, allowing him to choose for himself for a change. He shook his head, “No, I don’t want to sleep.”

He didn’t see her grin, but he tasted it briefly as she kissed him once and got to her feet, hand held out for him to take. Sliding his hand into hers, Jake rose to his feet and let her lead the way to her bedroom. His racing heartbeat set the pace of their feet like the heavy drumming of rain beating on a window, and he thought it would deafen him if it kept going. In her room, he shut the door behind him and watched as she backed away smiling, her fingers trailing out of his to fall at her side. The dark of the room eased him enough to stride to her, lift his hands, and rest them atop her shoulders. He turned her around and gathered her hair in hand, smoothing it over her shoulder so it wouldn’t get caught in her zipper. A tremor ran through his hands as he slowly, painstakingly drew that zipper down, the sound almost violent in the silent room, and trailed a line down her bared spine with the tip of his finger to make her shiver as the dress slithered down her arms to pool at her feet.

Drawing a deep breath, he swallowed hard and shook his head, unsure how to proceed until he shut off his brain and listened to his instinct. It had not forgotten how to do this, and neither had he. He unfastened the clasp of her bra, letting it fall to the floor to rest with her dress as she turned around and swiftly began undoing the buttons to his shirt, peppering each inch of newly bared skin with butterfly kisses. Cataloging what made her sigh and what made her tense, repeating the things that made her twitch impatiently. It took longer to undress than he remembered. They couldn’t stop touching and tasting, memorizing each new part unveiled with lips and fingers. Soon, all that stood between them was hesitation, and he was all done with that.

He cupped her face in both hands, seeing a spark catch quick and hot in her eyes before his mouth was on hers. Her arms wound around his waist, pressing flush against him; she made a slight sound of impatience that made him smile as he backed her up to the bed. Heat glittered through him as she broke away with a sly smirk and fluidly draped herself on the bed. No shame or fear marked her beloved face as she spread dimpled thighs and beckoned him over. Silver glimmered and gilded her body, soft peaks and valleys illuminated by strands of finespun moonlight seeping through the cracks in the blinds, the shadow filling in where the light couldn’t reach. And it was all for him. The thought was almost enough to knock him over.

Blanketing her body with his, he stopped worrying about doing things right and started doing what they needed. Heat, glorious heat, was a song in his blood, and he had never heard it’s like. Electricity zinged through his veins as he coaxed gentle moans and murmured sweet nothings that made her grasp at his shoulders. All he could do was hold on as she pulled him inside her body and locked her legs around his waist, overwhelmed and utterly entranced at how perfectly she fit him and he her. Each caress ignited a storm of sensation, heat, want, and love and an incandescent glow brought forth by the scrape of her nails down his back.

Love might be a flame, but he burned brighter than wildfire as she came alive under his touch. Shifting, sweat-slick bodies, moving and tangling together and clinging desperately, every touch and reaction a question and an answer he hadn’t known was missing. Skin to skin, sharing all of himself as she gave all of her in return, trusting each other with the parts of themselves they hid from everyone else, and he couldn’t look away from her eyes. Seeing everything he felt reflected back in that cherished gaze and the words they’d only said in a message spilled free of his teeth.

“I love you, all of you. Tell me what you need, and I’ll give it to you. I’ll give you everything. I want to make you happy.”

She arched as he moved within her, sealing his words with a starving kiss as she shuddered beneath him. He could feel her desire and how deeply his words affected her with every shift of her hips or soothing touch of her hands on his back. When he let her breathe, she wasn’t content to let him believe even for a second that he couldn’t make her happy.

“You already do. Every day. I just need you…I love you too.”

“You have me. You always did.”

More silver lined her wonderful eyes; he felt like he could sink inside and drown in them as she pulled him down to drink from his mouth. Time had long been his enemy; he never seemed to have enough of it, and when he did, he could never trust it. Not now. Time didn’t matter; it spooled out endlessly like someone unraveled a skein of wool, and every languorous movement seemed to last an eternity as he committed the feel and taste of her to memory. Pleasure cascaded through him, electrifying, and beautiful as it burned away the last of his doubts and filled him with unwavering gratitude for making it through hell to experience heaven. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so deeply moved by another person, like part of him had shifted irrevocably, and now she had made a home there. He never wanted her out.

Gasping airy breaths, clutching hands, and shaking legs, they fell together. Not with a scream or shout. But with a whisper of relief and joy that echoed in his ears long after it faded. Her soft purrs and contented hums as he buried his face in her neck to anchor himself with the fragrance of her skin were all he wanted to hear from her. His scent had blended with hers, a perfume of musk and salt, sweet and spicy, that he drew into his lungs to steady his pounding heart. He could feel every beat of hers, as wild and frantic as his, and smiled as he counted them to calm himself. He didn’t know what to say when he finally lifted his head, roused by her carding her hands through his hair. His tongue felt heavy and useless, but she shook her head before he could get annoyed with himself.

“Shh. No brooding. Not tonight. Just hold me until I sleep.” She whispered, smoothing the crease between his brows away with the pad of her thumb.

Nodding as she unlocked her legs around his hips, he rolled onto his back, dragging her with him and settling her over his chest. Her leg crossed his thigh, and she flung her arm around his waist as she nuzzled into his shoulder. Unable to stop himself, he lifted her chin with his index finger and kissed her so gently she trembled. She was like a rainstorm contained in human skin, and his house of cards had tumbled down the moment she arrived in his life. Shaking him out of a false life and bringing him into a true one. Neither had known then what they’d come to mean to each other, but he’d always known she was different. No one had ever held him so enthralled before her, and now he was glad of her obstinate refusal to let him run the show on his terms. Hated it at the time, but he saw how empty he had been then. Now, he was so full of her and the life they wanted to create together that there was no space for emptiness.

As she fell asleep, he thanked whatever force had guided her to him and promised to never take her for granted. She was it for him. He hadn’t even been looking for her and wouldn’t have known what to look for if he tried, but he was grateful all the same. Humans were fashioned for love. He thought himself immune to or above it. But he was still human no matter how hard he tried to switch it off, and it was both a gift and a curse to know love. For once it’s gone, how did one go on? But if it stayed… that was even more frightening to think of, but it excited him more.

He couldn’t wait to see what became of them as they grew older and their love with them. It already felt impossible to contain. The future only looked golden to him as sleep lured him under, and his last thought wasn’t one of frustration or disappointment. He’d felt it for a while but now knew it to be true. He found his home. Home wasn’t a place; it was her, and he silently vowed to always protect it as he slipped into a dreamless sleep.

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

Thank you for reading! And if you like, comment or reblog, thank you for that too. I appreciate it more than you know. I hope you enjoyed your time reading my wordy attempt at a softer smut scene 🥰❤️

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leucoratia · 1 year

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Leucoratia's ultimate JJBA fic recs

A/N: Here are all the jojo fics I ever reblogged as well as my AO3 favourites, they have passed peer review and I reccomend them all with my eyes closed! This masterlist will be updated as I read (so don't forget to check the original post on my blog, new fics might appear!)

My favourites ever will be highlighted in pink! Happy reading!

Gen :

-"Bruno Bucciarati's Guide to Motherhood" - Buccigang : "Some little stories about Mafia Mom and his six kids, featuring such classics as: “How many times can the kids say ‘Mom!’ in an hour,” “Maybe if I hide in the bathroom I can have five minutes of alone time,” and “No Stands at the dinner table!”

-"Rain in the Flower Garden" - Buccigang : After defeating Diavolo, Giorno discovers a new power and starts to put things back together. A story in which Giorno brings people back (angst)

-"Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want" - Dio : "What would it take for Dio to fight on the side of the Joestar family? For Diavolo to serve society in a beneficial way? For Jotaro to actually be there for his daughter? An AU with a dark beginning and a wholesome ending." (Mudad, mind warnings)

-"Remember me as the sky" - Ceasar Zeppeli : "We'll do everything that'll make Lisa Lisa mad at us" Ceasar lives, at a cost.

Character x Character :

-"Catch of the Day" - Pirate!Avdol x Merman!Polnareff

-"Unbroken" - Esikars : "When an argument broke between Kars and Esidisi, a severe injury drives the Flame King away with the redhead infant. Through pain and betrayal, Esidisi struggles to come in terms of his role in Kars' life. And try to find something within him, which is unbroken."

-"When the Ancient Being Prayed" - Esikars (NSFW) : "After drifting into space aimlessly, Kars was reborn as a human being. As he readjusts himself to the present times, would he forget the past and moved on? But it's really hard with the hot historian who resembled his old lover."

Bruabba :

-"It Starts Like This" : bruno deals with epilepsy which has been caused by being undead (everyone lives AU, angst)

-"Gold room": An abridged history of Bruno Buccellati and Leone Abbacchio, told in ten parts. (Fix-it AU, relationship study)

-"Arm Candy": Leone Abbacchio is at rock bottom, so he might as well catch whatever he can reach to pull himself back up. When a stranger from the mafia offers Leone a job as his bodyguard Leone accepts it, but he has no idea Bruno Bucciarati is much more than a regular gangster, and that the job would turn out to be much stranger than Leone expected. (AU, T4T, mind warnings)

Caejose :

-"Whenever you reach for me I'll do all that I can" : "They say stand users attract other stand users, do you think it's true in other ways too?" Bruno and Leone get together and help eachother figure themselves out. (T4T, transitioning)

-"He wears a pair of silver wings" : What if there never were any vampires, pillarmen and red stone of Aja? What if Joseph and Ceasar were just two men on opposite sides in WW2, stranded together in the middle of the Alps?

-"The Ghost of Ceasar Zeppeli" "Caesar was content to guard over Joseph's family in the afterlife, he had no idea what that would entail"

-"A field of words I wish I would have said" : Jotaro comes to Joseph for advice, making him reminisce his time with Ceasar (angst, canon character death)

Jonadio :

-"The Convergence of Two Stars" (Les Misérables AU) : "Following a fight with this father, young Jonathan Joestar moves from his estate to the Gorbeau tenement, intent on making his own way in the world. Unbeknownst to him, his next door neighbour is someone whose fate is tied to his own through a shared past. Their meeting may be the catalyst to change the course of both their lives."

-"Rosa Sangue" : hanahaki, but the loved one is dead and the sufferer immortal

-"A little derring-do" : "Come now. Would you rather I go out and jump on some unlucky fellow in the streets? All because Jonathan Joestar couldn't give up some of his precious blood. So selfish, Jojo."

"I would rather you hadn't put on that mask at all," Jonathan chided. And yet, he raised a hand to trace one careful thumb over the sharp, sharp tip of Dio's fangs. He almost wanted to press just a little bit harder, enough to see the skin split open and spill red. (Blood drinking, midly dubious consent, frottage)

Jotakak:

-"Twisted Love" - Jotakak: "Noriaki Kakyoin has been in love with his best friend for years. The only problem? Nothing has changed, and it seems like the best course of action would be to just forget about it and move on. The catch? He has to pretend to be his boyfriend for a game show." (fake dating, undercover as a couple, slow burn, fluff and angst... best Jotakak fic I've ever read)

-"In water" - Jotakak (mind warnings) : "Broken, battered, barely clinging to life, Kakyoin wakes up in the ICU after Egypt with one thought on his mind: he has to survive, because important people are waiting for him"

-"Watching for the Tide" - Jotakak (transfem Joot <3) : "Before stands, before Dio, it had been easy for Jotaro Kujo to hide that she was a girl, but with her soul displayed as Star Platinum—huge, powerful, and definitely a woman—it was becoming harder to ignore."

Diavolo :

-"Moonchild" - Diavolo & Doppio: where Doppio deals with an "intruder" in his appartment, whose only misgiving is drawing children's drawings everywhere and messing up (character study, Diavolo's wounded inner child. All of this author's jojo fics are really great)

-"He'll find him waiting like a lonesome king" - Diadop (NSFW) : Diavolo finds a way to meet doppio face to face, but only temporarily

-"Double" - Diadop (beware warnings) : "In the beginning, they were only Them. From the moment of their birth, they were Two, and they had no name for Themselves, and they needed none. They watched from behind their eyes, and they smiled and laughed at each other’s passing thoughts, and they cried from the same hunger and reached for the same bottle. Their selves were driven only by simple thoughts; instinct, need, care- and so there was no disagreement; to be two was as natural as to breathe, to drink, to cry."

-"The Healing Power of Nothing" - Diavolo & Trish : "While Diavolo was trapped in the death loop, Trish learns about her father's fate and convinces Don Giovanna to release him from his torment. Upon release, Diavolo is left a paranoid wreck, keeping himself sheltered from the outside in fear of dying again. Dying multiple times enabled him to reflect on his past actions, wishing to start over but is aware he is worthy of forgiveness. Trish on the other hand, wants a father in her life again is willing to give him that second chance."

-"Vae Victis" - Diavolo/Giorno (NSFW, mind warnings) : "At the 15 year anniversary of Giorno's ascent to Don of Passione, Bruno convinces Giorno to pull Diavolo from the death loop."

Giorno Giovanna:

-"Baby mine" -Giorno & Buccigang : Giorno is hit by an enemy stand which causes him to regress to his newborn state. He must grow older again while his friends turn into family. (angst, found family, past child abuse)

-"The child of god" - Mudad : A universe in which Dio comes for his son

-"My devil / my darling" - Mudad : Dio is dead. But that doesn't mean that it will stop him from visiting his son in his dreams...or rather nightmares. Dio takes it upon himself to be Giorno's sleep paralysis demon.

-"Ripped Out" - Giorno & Buccigang : "Abbacchio gets sent on a simple mission with his least favorite Passione member. Even after defeating the boss, his irritation towards Giorno hasn’t completely faded. But what if the “perfect” teen gets hurt?" (warning: OW)

-"Still Learning" - Giorno & Buccigang: "They winked. And then, suddenly, there was a child standing right before them in his pyjamas, looking for all the world as though he had been pulled out of bed"

-"Blood Runs Thicker" - Mudad : "Should they prove themselves worthy of their birthright, he would ensure his sons their rightful place as a part of his eternal legacy. He hoped, for their individual sakes, they would do so."

-"Sunlight" - Mudad: "It was the first few rays of morning that woke Dio, along with Giorno’s squirming. Dio wasn’t exactly a morning person--he preferred staying up into the late hours of the night if he chose to extend his day, not waking up early. Unfortunately for him, his son was, often waking up right before or after sunbreak. Whatever internal clock his little body ran on, it was determined to have Dio up every morning before 7am, which in his very professional and official legal opinion, should be a crime."

-"You are someone I have loved but never known" - Mudad : Dio's spirit visits his son. A story of fatherhood, trauma, and catharsis, told through years of dreams of Giorno Giovanna.

-"Son of the Tiger" - Mudad : Dropping by Dio's awful mansion to deliver a report, Hol Horse meets someone unexpected.

-"Belgian chocolate" - Mudad : Dio and Giorno are at home, chillin' like villains. An old friend (and a new one!) drops by. (No warnings, same timeline as Son of The tiger)

X Reader :

-"Rekindled Meetings" -Mer!Jotaro x Reader : y/n reunites with their estranged mermaid best friend after a storm

-helpimhyperfixating's jotaro x reader masterlist

-"JJBa & You : fall dates edition" - Bruno, Abbaccchio, Gyro, Jotaro, Josuke, Diadop, Diego, Giorno, Kakyoin, Poly! Caesar & Joseph

-"Foolish Games" - Bucciarati x reader : “Excuse me, think I’ve mistaken you for somebody else, Somebody who gave a damn.“ (warnings: death, part 5 spoilers, soft nsfw)

-"A glimpse of Us" - Bucciarati x reader : Dating and sex work requires communication, something you and Bucciarati learn the hard way. (NSFW)

-"Cassandra Gemini : Multiple Spouse Wounds" - Dio x reader : in which you are a prostitue who has known Dio for many years. This is the story of your first and your last meetings (NSFW)

-"Several nightcaps later" - Abbacchio x reader (NSFW): "Abbacchio's unresolved issues and drinking habit have taken a severe toll on his sex life. After learning about jerk-off-instruction, he comes to you with his problem. You're more than happy to help."

-"The Altar" - Diavolo x reader (NSFW, demon!diavolo, non-con elements): "You find the source of a strange blight in your pumpkin patch. However, nothing could prepare you for what you encounter there."

-"The Domestic Diavolo Chronciles" - Diavolo x reader (domestic fluff)

-"Bratty's Kink compendium" - jojo x reader : NSFW oneshort request compliation. Basically kink heaven (mind warnings)

#x reader #bruabba #caejose #esikars #jotakak #mudad #diavolo jojo #fic recs #masterpost #giorno giovanna #jonadio

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deadboyfriendd · 7 months

Text

I. The Science Fiction Double Feature

Don't Dream It, Be it.

Summary: Eddie had a performer's heart. The world was his stage and you were lucky enough to be his audience. Though he never mentioned an acting career before this.

Content Warning: My content is 18+, Minors DNI, suggestive, no explicit smut, reader gets a lapdance from Eddie, Steve in a gold speedo.

Word Count: 1.9K

Eddie was inherently a strange person. This was a fact of life– and it was a fact that you could neither deny nor ignore. He did not abide by the laws of personal space, did not contour to the ebb and flow of the daily routine, did not care for the should be’s and inherent truths and facts-of-the-matter’s.

You supposed only dead fish swam with the current.

You liked him and all of his strangeness, because he was an easy person to like in his closeness and insistence of constant physical connection. You liked the loudness that followed him. You liked that, in his more-or-less two decades on this planet, he had not learned any subtleties. Considering how many other people didn’t in their meanness, you didn’t think you would ever have the mind to teach him any.

You’d figured that’s why you stood here now.

The marquee lights loomed over you like a slovenly lover:

Tonite! Tonite! Tonite! Rocky Horror Live on Stage!

You felt underdressed, though, not for lack of coverage. In fact, you might have been the most dressed person here. With the least amount of sequins. The whole ordeal seemed very harum-scarum, devil-may-care. The thought made you rigid with fear. There is not a lack of sequins or glitter in this place, morally ambiguous figures that loitered around this place like roaches seemed to be slathered in it in the absence of clothing. There are people in fishnet tights, stockings with uneven seams positioned up the backs, onlookers in corsets and feathered teddies and coats with party hats– an uncertain amount of etiquette for this displacement of formality.

You felt plain. Unseen and painfully looked at in every way.

The historic theater is surprisingly spacious, though, now that you were painfully aware of yourself and how your clothes touched your skin, that feeling seemed almost cavernous. You looked down at the ticket Eddie had handed you in advance. Seat 15A. Right in the front.

The fanfare to signal the start of the show sent the audience scrambling like a horde of glittery, sleazy roaches, settling in seats like gold in a pan. And a woman approaches the scene. She looks like a cheap recreation of a campy 50’s waitress, she holds a concessions tray over the front of her body that says DAIRY across the front. The spotlight stops, abounding and white, across her personage, affixed stage-left.

“Lips! Lips! Lips!” The crowd chants, a riot before you.

A large, red pair of lips appear behind her, glittering and smiling in the basking glow of the projector lighting.

“A long, long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, God said, ‘Let there be lips!’ And there were. And they were good” Someone shouted from the further back rows, an ensemble of hoots, hollers, and laughter to follow. In this time, Roxy begins to sing,

“Michael Rennie was ill

The day the earth stood still

But he told us where we stand

And Flash Gordon was there

In silver underwear

Claude Raines was the invisible man…”

You’d wondered why Eddie had never mentioned an acting career before this.

“Oh, it’s just kind of a tradition. Nothing serious.” He’d told you, when you asked him last night, his long, gangling legs swinging back and forth in a vapid tannenbaum excursion from where he suspended them out of the back of his van.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes at him. He couldn’t see it from where your head rested on his shoulder, but he could feel it in your smile, “Oh, come on, is this like code for a strip show or something?”

You’d wondered the same thing now, why he had not mentioned these friends or practices or rehearsals before this. You’d wondered why he had kept it such a secret.

“I would like if I may…” A man in a suit reeled over a book on stage, giving brief, pregnant pauses awaiting the crowd’s response like a birdsong.

“You may!”

He picked back up, eyes alight with mischief and manor, “To take you…”

“Take me!” Someone calls from the back block of the historic theater, and the crowd erupts with laughter. This catches the narrator off-guard, and, even from your seat in the front, you can tell he is suppressing his own laughter.

“Perhaps later…” The crowd roars with laughter, drawn-out and hearty, though the narrator presses on, “It seemed a very ordinary night…”

“Ordinary?”

“When Brad Majors-”

“Arsehole!” The crowd is relentless in their scrutiny of the male half of the main protagonist, and they will let it be known.

“You’ve met.” The narrator states, simply, creating another roar of laughter from the crowd.

“And his fiancee, Janet Weiss–”

“Slut!” The crowd is also relentless about their distaste for the female protagonist, however, you cannot tell if this title is to be worn as a crown or a dunce cap.

“Went to see a Dr. Everett Scott…”

The crowd seemed ravenous, you had never seen a show like this before. Before long, you realized that the crowd was as much in on the script of the show as the actors were. It felt like some sort of inside joke that you weren’t in on, though you had not felt entirely ostracized. Everyone here was a freak. That title was worn like a crown. A dunce cap worn proudly for all to see. That comfort rained down over you in a shrouded confetti sea of glitter and rice at a wedding, and sprayed you with the mist of a water gun from somewhere far behind you, even shielded you beneath the news paper of a stranger, the light at the Frankenstein’s place looming like a light at the end of a deep, dark tunnel.

You soon figure that this, at its worst, is a campy reprise of Frankenstein, shrouded in a gilded lining of glitter and sex. A prim and proper couple is engaged and travel too see the man that introduced them in order to relay the good news, though, their excursion is derailed by a blown tire in a rainstorm.

You had managed to scrape by unscathed in your newness up until this moment, but the fanfares and excitement despite the blatant, yet somehow, still vague descriptions of its just a jump to the left, seem to expose you in its own gilded golden way.

Despite your embarrassment, it was still surprising to see people you knew on stage, people you had hung out with once or twice, met in person, seen at the bars. Some of them were your classmates, some of them people you talked to on a semi-regular basis. You’d recognized Robin straight away, adorned in a corset and a cropped red wig. But there was one person you still had not seen yet.

A piercing scream that could only be described as the banshee call from a white woman possessed ripples through the air in a ghastly introduction, covered by guitar fares and somehow even more glitter than before.

Though you cannot process any other words besides: Oh my God.

“How d'you do, I

See you've met my

Faithful handyman

He's just a little brought down because

When you knocked

He thought you were the candy man…”

There he was. In all of his glory.

There was a certain correctness seeing him like this, the way his calloused fingers ran over the corset top and rippled the fine sheathings of the back seams of fishnet nights. The way sweat beaded down his made up face from the stage lights like a glitter– or even the way the dark glitter gilded his alabaster skin like gold flake on ancient relics.

This was Eddie, you couldn’t quite place how, but you understood that this was where he had settled in space and time, in a choreographed symphony of stardust and feathers. How the fine matter of the universe accumulated to create this beautiful creature before you. This sweet transvestite.

You had known about his love for performance before this, it was the premise of his very being. The world was Eddie’s stage and you had the honor of being his audience on a near-constant basis. He was beautiful then too, hair flying over a soft cotton-clad shoulder as he paraded around the backwoods. He was beautiful on stage, when the sweat beaded down his forehead and his large smile pushed on the apples of his cheeks and pinched the corners of his eyes together– much like tonight. He was especially beautiful when he wasn’t performing either, in moments of shared silence and concentration. In stolen glances and passed grins and inside jokes.

Eddie was beautiful always, but this was a beauty that you had never seen before– an entirely new sight to behold. The only second to this had been Steve, your frat-boy adjacent, golden-skinned, all-American friend from the bars, clad in gold speedo armor. But Steve had always been conventionally beautiful, and he was no different now.

You could see them well from your gifted seat 15A. You laughed with the crowd, called the discrepancies of Brad Majors and Janet Weiss in loud, choreographed distaste from your seat, and tried your hardest to feel at home in this crowd– which had not been hard, per se. Even from your space here, they had not been unwelcoming, though you could not help but feel constant passing glances at you as the show progressed.

Then, it happened.

Hot white light tinted fuschia from the film warmed your face and drowned out the flush that crept hot against your neck. This was not a backsplash or residual lighting from the stage, this was attention. And it was all on you.

“Whatever happened to Fay Wray?

That delicate satin draped frame…”

Eddie sang, vibrato carrying across the fuschia that tethered you together like a bind and delivering it to your soul. His eyes locked into yours, and you couldn’t not catch the smile that only you could recognize as shit-eating, your own communication horror and the exact words: you fucking didn’t.

“As it clung to her thigh, how I started to cry

Cause I wanted to be dressed just the same…”

A mist billowed from the undersides of the stage, pooling around your feet and spilling upwards into your lap. Eddie began to descend the stairs in a sinful strut, mink stole sliding across alabaster shoulders in one sensual movement.

“Give yourself over to absolute pleasure…”

“Swim the warm waters of sins of the flesh…”

The mink stole found its way around your shoulders and settled there, and your face burned hot with both the stage light and embarrassment. Though, you couldn’t help but tilt your head back and cackle with the movement of Eddie’s hand against the niche between your jaw and neck and the weight of him against your legs.

You shouldn’t like this, should you?

No, this was okay. It was more than okay actually. You only existed in this moment. You didn’t understand how you could live any differently outside of this, now.

“Erotic nightmares beyond any measure,

He was heavy and hot against you. You could feel every nerve in your body, the lacy, delicate spider web strings of fishnet tights taught and stinging against your fingertips.

And sensual daydreams to treasure forever,

You understood your place in space and time now. You felt the stardust settle in the cave of your body. You felt the universe combust and implode in a cosmogony within your body. You knew where Eddie was supposed to be.

You also knew where your place was, too.

Can't you just see it?”

#eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things s4 #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson smut #Spotify

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pen-of-roses · 3 months

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Rain

Guess what I managed to do two of the prompts for @ockissweek and this one is actually soft! I promise. I offer no such promises for the rest of the week.

Taking a deep breath to enjoy the earthy scent in the air, they leaned against the stones and tipped their head back, eyes closed. Rain hit their face in fat, cold droplets. A steady shower that could maybe wash off the fragments of pain and fear still choking them, even if it couldn’t chase away the piercing gold behind their eyelids.

Their fingers dug into the dirt. It felt like the right thing to do, even if they couldn’t say why.

Maybe Calla was right, and they really were some sort of plant.

At the very least, it was comforting, calling forth slivers of memories: a voice telling them to relax and breathe in a language they didn’t remember the name of, a heavy blanket draped over their shoulders, a wide grin and kind eyes, the smell of a strong floral tea.

Heavy footsteps and a tap on their shoulder drew them back to the present. Though, as they blinked up at Oren, they half expected him to be holding a steaming mug. But his hands were empty, instead rubbing up his arms to stave off the cold. “Did you know it’s raining?”

They raised their eyebrows in a shocked expression, glancing from him to the sky and back with an exaggerated move of their head.

Snorting and rolling his eyes, he waved his hand dismissively. “Yes, yes,” he signed, “very funny. Calla said I should make sure you wouldn’t wash away, but I can see you’re fine.”

“I like it,” they signed . “Think I used to do,” they paused for a moment and then motioned at their seated position and the sky, “this, before. With…” Frowning, that smile and those eyes from before flickered, fading in the fog with everything else.

“With?”

“Someone.” With a half hearted shrug, they blew a frustrated breath and looked out into the dark expanse of mountain around them.

Oren’s quiet “oh” was barely audible over the rain’s persistent tapping. “Well,” his voice drew out the word, drawing their attention back to him, before he continued , “I can leave you to it then.”

“No, I think I’d like the company?” They bit their lip, their shoulders raising as they looked up at him.

His face twitched as he turned his head up to the sky.

When he looked down again, they raised their hands and started, “It’s fine–”

But he only sighed and dropped down next to them, bumping their shoulders together. “The things I do for the two of you.” He shook his head, but was smiling through it.

They laughed, leaning their head against his. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Stubble scratched their skin as he turned to place a gentle kiss on their forehead. “If I catch a cold though, you’re going to have to take care of me.”

“I don’t already?”

“Watch it, see if I give you an extra helping tomorrow!” He scowled trying to move away, but they just pulled him closer, wrapping their arms around him to provide some warmth and placing their own kiss on his cheek. His face fell into something softer then and he blinked a few times. A moment later, he signed, “Love you Silver.”

They swallowed. Then, offered a small and fragile smile in return, their head onto his shoulder.

#writeblr #writing #amwriting #excerpt #ockiss24 #silver #tentatively the other character's name is oren but that is subject to change #its actually sweet #don't ask me if you'll get an actual mouth to mouth kiss this week i dont know they all do what they want

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squarebracket-trickster · 1 month

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Find the Words tag

THANK YOU to the following fantastic humans (and others in human disguises):

@sam-glade, whose words for me are honey, fruit, tea, bread and young, old, new, used.

@tabswrites, whose words for me are find, blink, break, fear.

@writernopal, whose words for me are ache, mortal, ancient, divine.

@captain-kraken, whose words for me are need, lost, soft, bite.

@autumnalwalker, whose words for me are please, space, surprise, melancholy, unassuming.

@gottestod-writes, whose words for me are mother, green, fold.

@sarandipitywrites, whose words for me are warm, need, again, why.

@awleeofficial, whose words for me are shock, love, clock, colorful.

I think I'll tag (no pressure, of course): @forthesanityofstorytellers, @mundanemoongirl, @crowandmoonwriting, @ijustwritehonestly, @aziz-reads, @nacricissa (again hehe), @silverslipstream, @full-on-sam, @sender-paulson, and @starbuds-and-rosedust

I love when the people I tag @ me and/or link back to my post. I love it when you reblog my post with questions, compliments, words of encouragement about my WIP, or even no comment at all. But please make your own post to complete this tag. Please do not turn my post into a reblog chain.

Thy words be: silver, gold, daylight, evening

Actual Find the Words below the cut because... this uhhh... this is going to be loooooong...

Honey and Again

Agnes, is a joy, full of stories and deep laughs, an energy sweeter than the honeyed and white-sugared pears that pulls me every now and again from my musings and drags the slightest of smiles to the corner of my cheek.

Fruit

After our meal a pageboy brings a plate of breney to our table – hard, unleavened bread dipped in a fruit compote of currants, dates, and pine nuts steeped in red wine, vinegar, mace, and sandalwood.

Tea - alas, nothing.

Bread

Is Prince Philip the kind of man who buries his nose inside a loaf of white bread, fresh out of the oven?

Young, Need, and Mother

"[...] Have his son, do away with him while the boy’s still young and needs his mother to manage his inheritance, and… don’t get caught.”

Old

Frail old man is not exactly how I would describe Ieuan. Old, yes. But he has set us a grueling pace.

New

The morning dew begins to collect on the leaves and woodland becomes colder, wetter with each new fall of rain.

Used and Again

“I won’t be used again.”

Blink

If I had blinked I would have missed the flash of silver in the moonlight.

Break

His eyes flick to my face and lock with mine. I break first.

Fear

I can’t keep the fear from my eyes.

Ache

The earth is raised around the tree and remains thankfully dry where I sit and nurse the aches in my legs and feet.

Mortal - alas, nothing.

Ancient - ah, yes! My favourite line in the whole WIP so far!

The land rises and falls like the shoulders of a giant that ripple as he wakes from an ancient slumber; and from deep between the dips in the hills, where the river beds are still dry from a long summer, comes a groan so low and so deep it cannot be heard but felt keenly, a shiver in the bones.

Divine and Find

By some divine grace I find the energy for it all.

Lost

“Perhaps the assassins got lost on the way here? [...]"

Soft

“Afternoon,” I tell him, though by the time he wakes the daylight has gone soft with the early evening glow.

Bite

But I have to bite back the urge to suggest he watch.

Please

“Aldis, lady?” Henry says, “please let me gut them.”

Space

But there is another small room off the hall – the drawing room, a more private space than the parlour, meant for the women of the house and their family to converse.

Surprise

The man grunts in surprise and grabs me by the sleeve.

Melancholy - alas, nothing.

Unassuming - alas, nothing.

Green

The hills flatten, the evergreens give way to deciduous trees, the forest turns from rich green to gold and red, and far ahead the spires of Aubemote Castle pierce the golden sky.

Fold

“Did you get something for yourself?” I ask him as I fold over the hem of the left sleeve of the kirtle.

Warm and Find

The air is warm and windless and smells only of salt if you take the time to find it.

Why

“Luck has gotten me this far. Why not?”

Shock

“So you’ll have to get over the shock of seeing a lady in her kirtle.”

Love

Henry hesitates. An unfortunate thing for a man who refuses to fall in love with me.

Clock - alas, nothing.

Colourful, Again, Old, and Young

The tents thin again, they are smaller now and less colourful, and the men around them are older and younger, thinner and smaller.

Phew! That took a while! 'twas much fun though! I love the way this tag game forces me to pay attention to sentences I otherwise wouldn't notice, and I love what it can reveal about my little idiosyncrasies. Apparently I like the phase, "bite back" a lot. Didn't know that about myself haha.

#wipvii #tag game

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nostradamus0 · 1 year

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have you ever stood on a shore, felt the water change heights?

for @badxwolfxrising for the @tentoodaygiftexchange!

read on ao3

“Can you be happy here?” Rose’s hand is warm against his chest. His hands are warm, too. (He’ll have to get used to that.)

Her palm is flat over his sternum and she must be able to feel his single heart beating against her skin��he wonders if it bothers her. He wonders if she heard what he didn’t say, the silent: with me, after can you be happy?

“Can you?” She asks, her lips like a feather against his forehead as she speaks. There’s a long moment where all that exists is right here: the rain on the window and the warm hand on his chest and the soft breath on his forehead. She’s curled as close to him as two people can be, and it’s been a long time since he’s been vulnerable where someone could see him.

I love you, he wants to say. He said it earlier and he wants to say it again now, but the words don’t form easy. They even fall from his lips, but they make no sound.

I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you, he wants to say. But he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to now, when the dust of the day has settled, the heat of the moment faded, and she never said it back. Maybe she doesn’t want him to say it. In the dark hotel room, with the light off and the sky navy-grey and overcast out the window, he wishes he knew how to ask. He wishes he could see her face but thinks it might be easier if he can’t.

“I’ll be happy wherever you’re happy,” he says, his voice soft. “I always have been.”

Her answering exhale is shaky and her fingers twitch against his chest like she might curl her hand into a fist, clutching the fabric of his shirt that he got in the gift shop when they’d arrived, tired and weary and a little bit lost. When she speaks, her voice is so low he wouldn’t hear it if she weren’t so close, if her words weren’t murmured like a secret in his ear.

“Doctor,” she breathes. “Look at me.”

He says nothing in response but tilts his head to meet her eyes. They glisten in the darkness of the hotel room, warm and deep and longing, like she’s reaching for something she can’t quite grab hold of.

She shifts her body to better meet his gaze and her silhouette falls into the soft light from the moon that peeks through the clouds, and for the first time, he’s close enough to measure the impact of the time they’ve been apart in her eyes. Perhaps Rose has been dragging her grief around as much as he has, the absence of her next to him like a weight around his hearts heart that dragged heavier with each passing day. He wonders if it’s possible to hold her close enough to chase that grief away; there’s no room inside this new body for that sorrow.

She’s glowing in the silver light. With the movement of every inhale, exhale, the moon catches a little differently on her hair and it shimmers like liquid gold. She’s directly in line with the window, framed in the center where the light shines and lands on her, making her look like something made of magic. Finally, she says, carefully like each word must be exactly the right one—

“I knew I was making a choice when I kissed you at Bad Wolf Bay, and I knew my choice was you. I wouldn’t have done that if it wasn’t what I wanted.”

Her hand over his heart slides up to his jaw, curling around his cheek. She holds his face in her palm and strokes her thumb across the apple of his cheek and the salt-stained skin under his eye.

“So yes,” she says, her words delicate and soft, flowing into each other. “I’ll be happy here.”

“I love you.” It tears out of his mouth and he exhales sharp, from deep in his chest like the words had built up and kept him from breathing. There’s something so endless in the way her eyes glimmer as she holds his gaze, and he recognizes the look from gentle moments they’ve shared before: draped against each other on the couch in the library, sitting around the table at Christmas after he’d regenerated, trapped in a dungeon in Cardiff, I’m so glad I met you—

Rose had looked at him like that just hours ago, when a harsh breeze was chopping the waves that broke against the shore of the bay, her quivering hand flat over his one heart as he offered her the rest of his life, desperate for her to want it. Now, she looks at him like that in the midnight of a dark hotel room in a coastal town in Norway. They’ll leave for London in the morning, where his one life will begin to take shape. He hopes there’ll be a house with doors and carpets and a mortgage, and that someday he’ll stand on a street corner with her at 2 a.m. and wait for a taxi.

The desire to love Rose until he dies has been a fist around his throat and a rock between his lungs for nearly as long as he’s known her, amplified after his regeneration until it consumed him. Humanity was something he craved and could not have. She wasn’t someone he was allowed to hold forever.

He has to breathe more often now, and the single heartbeat in his chest will take getting used to. His body runs warmer and the need for sleep has already pulled at him in a way it has never done before. It doesn’t matter. These things make him human; they make him someone who can tell Rose he loves her without the fear that time is not on their side.

“I love you.” The silver-white of the near-full moon is a halo behind her as she speaks. The soft edges of her silhouette are framed by light and she is the only familiar thing in this universe. “I didn’t say it back earlier; I should’ve. I wanted to.”

“It’s okay,” he tells her. “We have time.”

A small smile pulls at the corners of her mouth, and his fingers itch to pull her back against his body, into his arms. It’s nice to be able to see her eyes as they lie facing each other, close enough that he can catch glimpses of her features in the dark, but he needs to still be holding on, so he clutches her hand and her knee knocks against his as she presses their bodies closer until they breathe the same air and he can see the exhaustion in her eyes. She exhales and he inhales. His chest rises and hers falls. In the hours since they’ve left the bay, he’s barely gone a moment without her hand in his. These hands were made to hold hers, he thinks.

This whole body was made to be with hers.

“I don’t feel like I’m running out of time with you anymore.”

“You aren’t,” she says. “You won’t.”

Her voice is a fierce whisper that catches and cracks. It’s like she’s defending him from something he can’t see. Maybe she’s trying to warn the universe away from them, as if to say: we have suffered enough. Let us have this.

“You won’t lose me again,” Rose says, her palm soft against the curve of his cheek. Her hands are gentle as she touches him, desperate to reassure them both that this is real, and it makes his throat swell and his eyes burn and flutter. His one heart expands until it is big enough to take the space of two. “You said we could grow old together. I’m holding you to that.”

She’s soft soft soft: the cadence of her words and the affection in her eyes. Her skin on his skin. The desperation in her love. He can feel her heartbeat through her wrist where he’s clutching her hand—her pulse pressed against his. The promise to grow old together is an easy one to make. He thinks he would promise her anything right now, her eyes shining in the light of the moon in the universe that will become his home more intimately than the first ever could.

“I want nothing else,” he says, clear and honest, vulnerable in a way he couldn’t allow himself to be before he was given this human body. (Suddenly, a lifetime-ago memory jolts in his chest and he can nearly hear the echo of it ringing in his ears—

“Then what?”

“I dunno. Find a planet, get a job, live a life.”

He’s talking about houses; doors and things; “You’d have to get a mortgage!” She’s laughing, singing the words like she’s teasing, but there’s something in her eyes that he hadn’t noticed at the time. Something like longing.

“What about me?”)

“Do you have a mortgage?” He asks, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over them. There’s a beat of nothing in which anxiety crawls into his chest, but then she laughs, bright and happy and a little bit desperate.

“No,” she says, dropping her face into the crook of his shoulder. “I rent a flat on the estate—bit like the old one.”

He swallows. There are words in his mouth that taste like longing. “I’d like one, someday,” he murmurs. “A mortgage—a proper house. Doors, windows. That sort of thing.”

“Yeah?” Her voice is muffled by the cotton of his shirt, but still soft and gentle. Patient. Like she’s willing to wait for him to be ready. (Truth is, he’s been ready for a while, just not human enough for that to matter.)

“Maybe we could . . . we could share?”

He can’t see her smile but he can feel it against his shoulder and squeezes her hand even tighter; holds her a little closer to his chest.

“I’d like that,” she says, and after a short pause, presses a feather-light kiss to his shoulder. The heart he’s still getting used to stutters in his chest. She flips their joined hands and curls them against her sternum, pressing his palm against her heart, where he can feel two beats—calm and steady—pulsing together within him.

For the first time in the Doctor’s life, he can’t feel time and space twisting and spinning around him. He can’t see all that is, all that was, all that ever could be. For the first time, all that exists is right here.

#tentoodaygiftexchange #dw #dw fanfic #fanfiction #tentoorose #timepetals #rose tyler #tentoo #tenth doctor

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1337wtfomgbbq · 5 months

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The Lore behind Ullrichstrong

I have been asked to explain the lore behind Ullrichstrong by @lalalabro and, after some drafts and back and forth, I have decided to go in as much of a chronological order of events as I can.

Lance puts it very well when he said in 2018: "He was the most important person in my life. Nobody scared me, motivated me. The other guys… no disrespect to them, didn’t get me up early. He got me up early. He put the fear of god in me."

Lance and Jan met first during the UCI roads in Oslo in 1993. Where Lance raced as a pro and Jan as an amateur.

Lance stuck out because he beat Miguel Fucking Indurain, Jan's literal idol, in the pouring rain. Meanwhile Jan beat the other amateurs in the final sprint.

Both of them still remember this to this day, and Jan even revealed that from that day on he followed Lance's career. And the only other two he was following religiously before that were Miguel Indurain and Marco Pantani.

They would meet again only in 1996 during the Tour de France. But only for about six days as Lance abandoned the Tour after stage 6, only to be diagnosed with cancer.

This pic was taken there.

And this says more than 1000 words actually. Because Jan's English was abysmal back then and he relied heavily on his teammates for translations. But he seemed to have had no problem communicating with Lance here.

Lance would be at the road side during the second solo time trial of the Tour de France in 1997. The year Jan won the Tour de France. And he remembers thinking how nobody would be able to beat Jan for ten years.

And you gotta understand, based on Jan's performance at the Tour de France in 1996 and 1997 everyone thought Jan was the next Indurain. That he would go on and win ten Tours in a row, with nobody able to beat him. You had people like Poulidor at the roadside being baffled and saying, "it's Merckx!"

Instead Jan would end up like Poulidor, the eternal second to Lance Armstrong.

They would only meet again during the UCI Roads at the end of 1999, where Jan beat Lance in the the time trial, after Jan lost the Tour in 1998 to Marco Pantani and couldn't compete in the Tour in 1999 due to injury.

Jan did manage to win the Vuelta in 1999, which was held after the Tour, and which he only rode to, "get back into it".

It's also worth mentioning that back in 1999 Lance winning the Tour was kinda smiled at because his greatest competition, aka Jan and Marco, weren't there.

2000 Jan was unable to beat Lance during the Tour de France but something interesting did happen during stage 15.

Lance's great rivalry that year was with Marco Pantani, who he had the greatest bitch fight ever with.

During stage 15 Marco started an attack on the first of five passes that evoked the move he made in 1998, which destroyed Jan and gifted him the yellow jerseys. Lance, completely riled up, was telling his team to allow Marco to go, thinking he would blow up after riding hard the whole day and they could just blow past him.

Well, Marco did blow up, but so did Lance. Allowing for Richard Virenque and Jan to ride away and finish the stage as first and second.

This picture, taken during that stage, is pretty funny given what would happen a year later.

At the end of the season Jan was also able to remind Lance that he was still a force to be reckoned with as he beat Lance during the Olympics and took home a gold and silver medal.

The 2001 Tour de France is where it really kicks off.

There were some... situations.

"The Look". A bush detour. And a handshake.

• "The Look": during stage 10 Lance faked being in bad shape only to roar back and leave everyone, including Jan, in the dust. He looked back before powering away, at his teammate Chechu Rubiera, but the angle makes it look like he looked straight at Jan.

• When Jan misjudged a corner during the descend on stage 13 Lance waited for him.

• At their arrival at Luz Ardiden, after a hard day of fighting they crossed the finish line almost side by side. Lance actually easing up and allowing Jan to cross first, and Jan reached back and shook his hand.

In 2002 Jan wasn't at the the Tour de France because he got busted for doping and subsequently kicked off his team, Telekom.

And Lance actually went on record advising Jan to race for his former team captain Bjarne Riis.

The 2003 Tour de France is Ullrichstrong big bang.

It was the heat wave of 2003 and as Jan operates amazingly in the heat he absolutely smoked Lance, who doesn't handle heat at all.

The race was so close that year that Lance was considering getting off his bike and abandoning during the first time trial (which Jan won, putting 1 and a half minutes into him). Their time difference was so close before the last, and deciding, time trial that Jan went with the sprinters on stage 18 for ONE bonus second.

But what really cements them as sporting rivalry of epic proportions is what happened during stage 15.

Lance's handle bars caught on a fans bag and he and Ivan Mayo went down, Jan barely avoiding hitting them. And despite Jan's directeur sportif, Rudy Pevenage, telling him to go ahead Jan waited for Lance. Later saying if he had won the stage, or the Tour, because of taking advantage of Lance's bad luck, the stage and the Tour was not worth winning.

And you gotta understand, this is not AT ALL like what Lance did in 2001. Back then the jersey was not in play, in 2003 it ABSOLUTELY WAS. Jan literally passed up his chance to win a second Tour, to be fair toward Lance.

Jan even revealed how he was relieved when Lance was back with them after his fall. While Lance said he would have been annoyed. But, as Lance says, "Jan is just a sweetheart."

And, what you also gotta understand, Jan was the only one Lance was afraid of. Pantani, Mayo, Basso, Vinokurov? They may have been annoyances, but only Jan made him get up earlier and put the fear of god in him.

(And that is despite Pantani working him over so hard in 2000 Lance admittedly considered abandoning the Tour).

Lance apparently trolled the internet and mined contacts to get info on Jan, to the point Tyler Hamilton thought Lance had an intern doing it for him before realizing Lance was doing it HIMSELF.

He would force Postal's team doctor Michele Ferrari to dawn disguises and spy on Jan.

Johan Bruyneel, Lance's directeur sportif, would also mine contacts.

They were watching Jan like fucking hawks.

(Granted Jan's side was pretty much doing the same, although not as obsessively).

In 2004 Jan was back in the flock with Telekom but his Tour de France didn't go all too well as he was severely sick.

He actually noticed early on that he was too sick to compete correctly and encouraged his young teammate Alexander Klöden to attack instead. He would help him as much as he could along the way.

One instance to note though was during the last time trial. Bruyneel said: "You know, Lance and Jan never really spoke that much. They basically didn't speak, but I'll always remember being with Lance at the doping control after he'd won the final time trial in 2004, and Ullrich coming over and giving Lance a hug. He said, "Ach, come on, it's only a bike race.""

This was the only Tour de France Jan raced where he missed the podium.

In 2005 Jan was doing better and managed to come in third. But what's really amazing is what happend after.

Not only the final podium where Lance kept saying, "I'm gonna get to Basso," only to circle right back and gush about Jan.

You see, Jan actually showed up at Lance's victory party, took the mike and gave a speech in Lance's honor in English.

Lance himself says he wouldn't have been man enough to do the same for Jan, and he still tears up to this day while telling this story.

Lance retired in 2005 and Jan was forced to retire after the Fuentes scandal in 2006.

Before Jan could try and win a second Tour in Lance's absence. Even while saying a win in Lance's absence is worth less.

And even after Lance came clean about his doping in 2013, and everything came out about what a dick he was (forcing teammates to dope as well, intimidating whistle blowers, to name just two) Jan maintained, "He never did anything to me, but was always fair and respectful."

Lance apparently decided to hand the 'get out of jail free'-card to the one guy who was the biggest threat to him.

And you gotta understand, Lance literally destroyed people back then. He was not just a grade A asshole, he was insane, and he could have EASILY went and did the same fucking thing to Jan.

But he never did.

They didn't really seem to have had much contact after their retirements.

Jan struggling immensely with depression and burnout after being forced to retire and deciding to not confess to his doping, opting instead to stay silent and shoulder the burden on his own.

He wouldn't even be able to touch a bicycle until 2010.

There were sporadic mentions of Lance from Jan.

How he tried to connect in 2010 but was unable to.

How it isn't good for the Tour de France as a whole that Lance's wins were taken away in 2013.

In 2017 Lance attacked ASO on twitter for not inviting Jan to the start of the Tour de France in Düsseldorf.

Jan, at this point, had already been in a downward spiral, that Lance, admittedly, knew about.

Lemme make it short, Jan was having a life crisis after his wife left him and took the kids in 2018 and was in the midst of destroying himself with alcohol and coke.

His family and friends, old teammates, even his old trainers, the German movie star Til Schweiger, all tried to help and didn't manage to.

So in a last ditch effort Mike Baldinger, Jan's best friend, called Lance to come in and talk to Jan.

Saying Lance is the only man Jan respects and fears too much not to listen to.

So Lance flew in to visit Jan in rehab. And mind you, Lance was willing to fly in lawyers and doctors to help Jan. He organized rehab in the US in fact.

That's not exactly the route Jan took, but his route also led him to 2021, where he had pretty well recovered from his 2018 fall.

It was the first time Jan went on his (now) yearly Mallorca Tour with Lance, George Hincapie and Johan Bruyneel.

During the podcast they recorded Lance revealed how his wife asked him if Jan was still okay and he said, "Anna asked me that the other day. She asked, Jan's still good right? And I said, I'm pretty sure I would be one of the first calls. And I would be on the next flight."

And at the end of 2021, as Jan now revealed in his new amazon documentary, he had a relapse while on vacation in Cuba.

On the flight back to Mexiko he apparently went berserk and had to be taken off the plane and to the hospital. And when Mike learned what happened he called Lance and asked him to go to Mexico and take care of Jan, which Lance did IMMEDIATELY.

Lance explained how he watched Jan come to in his hospital bed and how Jan looked at him so confused and shocked and how he just nodded and went, "Yeah. I'm here."

So Mike and Lance get Jan into another rehad and I find out in the news that Lance APPARENTLY gifted Jan a black ring with stones on the inside for GOOD LUCK?!?!

(Yeah sure "good luck", you two are married)

Add to that, ALWAYS when asked why Lance is helping Jan, why he is going so hard for him, he says, "because I love him."

2022 marked the 25th anniversary of Jan winning the Tour and Lance actually agreed to be interviewed for the documentary series "Being Jan Ullrich" and for the book "Jan Ullrich - the best there never was" by Daniel Friebe that was also released that year.

Even going so far as to telling Friebe that if he was out to write a hatchet piece about Jan, to not even bother coming to Aspen because he would not utter one bad word about Jan.

At the end of 2022 Jan went to California with Paul Ripke (who he did a podcast with an became fast friends with. He is the photographer behind the BottAss calendar btw) and they met up with Lance, and the two of them went to a basketball game together. And who knows what else they got up to😏

Jan saying in a post on instagram: "Lance and I had a lot of mutual respect even as opponents. After our careers, we both went through a lot and were able to understand how the other is doing. And then when I needed help, Lance was there the next day. That's when you realize: I'm really important to him, it's not just a blah blah, there's something behind it. It's a great friendship.”

This year (2023) Lance also agreed to be interviewed for the documentary series Jan did with amazon.

And of course they also met again on Mallorca.

During that podcast Lance was surprised to hear Jan wanted to be at George's Fondo in 2024, and planned to do something similar himself (with George visiting). He stopped the two dead in their tracks and declared, "if Jan is gonna be there I am gonna be there." And that after George was ribbing him for not having been at his Fondo for some years now. But if Jan's gonna be there Lance is gonna be there.

Or when Lance explained that he was fitter this year because apparently George called him fat in April, only to turn to Jan and assure him, "I would never say that to you."

Because, as Lance openly admits, back in the day he was obsessively studying Jan's body, just to know his level of fitness before the Tour; adding to Jan's body image issues.

Then the amazon documentary dropped in November and so did the GAYEST FUCKING MAGAZINE COVER I HAVE EVER SEEN.

Seriously, whos idea was that and who okayed it??

There are probably things I skipped but their history is literally way too fucking rich.

Their story is like Senna v Prost, or Anquetil v Poulidor, you cannot tell one of their stories without also telling the other's. They are way too interwoven and way too emotionally attached to each other.

This is more than just ship tropes, and at the same time they are a walking talking ship trope and literally ship themselves.

Height difference? Check.

Age difference? Check.

Virgo x Sagittarius relationship.

East vs west trope.

Shared daddy issues.

Hot vs Cold.

They are so entirely and fundamentally different.

Lance was a natural leader and had great mental fortitude, while Jan enjoyed way more to follow a leader like Riis and struggled a lot mentally.

Where Jan had immense pressure from the German media, Lance never had any from the US.

Lance was such a dickhead during his pro years. He had a literal 'no friends' rule enforced on US Postal, forbidding his teammates from fraternizing with other teams, meanwhile Jan was such a genuinely nice guy to everyone that you are hard pressed to find someone saying or recalling something bad about him.

On one had it's fun to compare their rivalry and subsequent later friendship to other sports rivalries like Poulidor and Anquetil, or Senna and Prost, while on the other hand what Jan and Lance have is on a fundamentally different level.

Like Bruyneel said, they didn't talk a lot during the races. George even recalls how Jan would scarcely speak during races, but apparently despite this those two had the biggest level of respect and fear and admiration and even love for each other.

To the point where Lance was the literally only person able to get through to Jan at his lowest. Even his fucking mother and brothers couldn't get through to him, but Lance could.

#ullrichstrong #jan ullrich #lance armstrong #johan bruyneel #rudy pevenage #george hincapie #cycling stuff #cycling #ullrichstrong lore #there is probably stuff i missed #if you wanna know more specific stuff just ask me or dm me #i am more than willing to bust out even more info

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