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bakerstreethound · 11 months

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Blooming Chemistry

Relationship: University!Sherlock Holmes x reader

Warnings: mutual pining, idiots to friends to lovers, confessions, slight angst, fluff, nervous sherlock

Summary: When Sherlock becomes your Chemistry tutor, you form an unlikely friendship, and an undeniable bond unfolds. Do either of you confess your feelings or continue living in denial? Waiting until the week before finals sounds like the perfect time to muse over these feelings, right?

All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound (Do NOT claim, repost, copy or translate my works to other sites. I only publish here and on A03 under the same username)

Word Count: 3.1k+

A/N: I had a wonderful time writing this story and it was a joy to weave together. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it. Sherlock is only one year above you in University so there’s only a year or two age gap between you. Any chemistry inaccuracies are my fault, I haven’t been privy to a course in a long while. Graphic by @firefly-graphics. As always, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Dull, utterly dull, his mind mutters. At least grasping the concept of Chemistry landed him inconveniently in a tutoring position his professor highly recommended him for and after much beratement, he accepted, not that he was going to enjoy it in the slightest.

That was before you came along a year below him, struggling in the basics, but never did he expect for you to become a colleague, let alone his friend.

The bonding over insufferable professors, a penchant for literature, and peace and quiet made for a lovely beginning to your companionship and you both never looked back since. And since then, you’d both taken up to hiding in the alcoves of the library to study for the last training weeks of the term, the only respite the company you provided each other.

He knew enough you strived hard for academic achievement and had to fight tooth and nail for your grades. You studied harder than anyone he knew.

Something like pride fills him as he watches you and he turns the page of his chemistry notebook, barely reading the notes on chemical bonds, balancing equations, or empirical and molecular formulas.

The thought of his finals doesn’t wear him out in the slightest, he already feels confident enough in his abilities. Though the professor hated him, for the errors he interrupted class for, he had felt confident.

You didn’t expect Chemistry to be your worst subject but Dr. F had recommended Sherlock to you as a peer tutor and as he was a year above you, you were glad you did.

Not a lot of subjects came easy to you especially the gen eds which you thought were a complete waste of time. (they really were, why did you have to waste even more money on them?).

You sigh, taking a sip of the coffee Sherlock deposited on the table before you an hour earlier. You blanch at the taste, long cold and you push the glasses off your face, groaning at your eyes trying to figure out the words on the page.

Between the essays and countless equations, your mind is swimming with questions and muddled beyond measure. Not to mention, the aching of your back increases the longer you sit in the horrendously uncomfortable chairs the library provides.

You look over at Sherlock, laid out on the tabletop on his stomach, textbook open-faced, doodling in the margins. Oh, how you envied him, could only imagine the boredom racing through him.

You have to work twice as hard to earn your chemistry marks, but he makes it easier for you, explaining most concepts better than Dr. F. would, and at a more reasonable pace.

You sigh in defeat, pulling his textbook away. “I’m ready for this week and the next to be over, how about you?” Your piercing gaze meets his as you speak.

He blinks once, twice before hearing your words, another to fully grasp what you’re saying. The week after this is finals, the end of the term, then you’ll part ways until the next one.

His chest aches at the thought of not seeing your smile at nine in the morning before class as you stand in line to buy the outrageously sugary, albeit pricey, coffee you like while he rolls his eyes, a ghost of a smile on his lips, while he looms behind you as if he is your personal bodyguard.

“Yes and no. For one, we don’t have to suffer the atrocities of the cafeteria any longer. No, because I have to deal with Mycroft, you have no idea how insufferable he is.” He sighs, tapping his finger on the table in slight frustration at the mere thought of his brother who always thought so highly of himself. I’m the smart one Sherlock.

“Ah, you’re going to let this infamous brother ruin your holiday? I fear a duel is in the near future,” you snicker, twirling your pen between your fingers. Sherlock’s gaze remains transfixed upon you, all thoughts of Mycroft vanishing at the thought of being closer to you, running his fingers through your hair, wrapping a hand around your waist…

Hell. He tries to get your invasion from his thoughts but he can’t, isn’t listening to a word you’re saying all the breath feels like it’s leaving his lungs the longer he looks at you. Is this what it feels like to be infatuated? He curses to himself, you’re his friend, and colleague, surely you could want nothing more from him.

You deserve better than him, and yet, he still hasn’t seen you ogling over anyone on campus beyond the occasional couple scoping you both did when bored, scoffing at them from afar while sitting on the bench beneath your favorite oak tree at the park.

You notice Sherlock pulling away an almost vacant haunted expression cascading over his eyes. His hands fidget, as he tries to keep them under control. You reach out, your fingers brushing along his knuckles and instantly he pulls away, a burning hot sensation flashing between you at the contact.

“S-sorry.” He says, snapping out of his stupor. You’ve never heard him stammer before in the time you’ve known him. Something is definitely wrong, but you know pushing him now won’t bode well, so you do what you can and ignore it.

“As I was saying-”

His hand falls on top of yours. “Do you perhaps want to join me in the lab tonight?” He swallows, watching you expectantly, bracing himself for your response. He’s sure you’re going to reject him.

He tries in vain to calm his pulse, but he can’t. Did he do this wrong? The seconds turn to minutes, and he feels frozen in time, expecting you to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

If he paid closer attention in his nerve-wrecked state, he’d see the catch of your own breath, the quivering of your lower lip, pupils widening at the prospect,

The question is innocent enough, but the fact you’ve been asked to hang out with your elusive tutor, colleague, and friend was almost unfathomable. You’d tried many times to harbor your crush from him, wondering if he felt the same.

You almost thought it a cruel joke of the universe. But Sherlock is sincere, hopeful, lips hinting at the barest of a boyish grin when you say “Yes, of course. What did you have in mind?”

You watch as he wrings his hands, clearly nervous as he gains his bearings, getting off the table before collecting his textbook, careful to hand your worksheets to you. “Wait and see.” He feels a strange twinge in his chest- perhaps his heart?- fluttering at the prospect.

You didn’t reject him after all. Maybe there is hope for him. And, face it deep down, he realizes he likes you, not against his better judgment, but rather, he never felt like he ever deserves you in the slightest.

******

It’s an agonizing wait until six o'clock when you walk to the Chemistry lab. Thankfully it’s a short walk from your dorm and in a well-lit area of campus. No one in their right mind stayed late there, unless it was dead week, ensuring their chemical compounds and experiments are in tip-top condition.

You know Sherlock vacates the premises often for his own use, but you have your suspicions, it’s one of the places he can truly be himself. Rumors circulated about what he does after hours, but it’s not like he has anywhere else to experiment and the dorms are off-limits, anyhow.

You take a breath before heaving open the heavy door, walking down the massive corridors before turning to the right, down the hall to lab twenty-two.

You recognize his shadowy silhouette by the door and you find yourself wondering, albeit briefly, if this is a mistake. But you think better of your mind, creaking open the door greeted with a sight you never expected.

“Sherlock?”

He says nothing when you close the door, a smile on his lips as he brings an instrument to his shoulder, tucking it beneath his chin, a soft melody of your favorite song reverberating through the room as his bow glides along the strings with ease.

On the professor's instruction table in front of him, two bunsen burners are lit with flame, a beaker filled with flowers sitting between them. A large pizza box and an assortment of your favorite candies also vacate the table and the finishing touch, is his chemistry notebook.

You fight off a silly grin at it, knowing the many conversations you had about threatening to burn it time after time.

“You did all of this for me?” You’re sure you look like a fool as you close the distance between you, the last notes of the melody echoing through the room and you applaud his performance.

He bows, putting the violin away safely in its case. You can’t help admiring the gentleness, the tenderness with which he caresses and lays it into its case for slumber until called upon once more by his fingers to coax out beautiful music from within.

He turns back to face you, his case long put away. “I didn’t know if this is how people say-,” he pauses, and you take a step closer.

He takes a breath, brushing his index finger along the top of your hand, sending goosebumps up your arm in its wake. “I’m uncertain this is how other people say ‘I like you,’ and I read gestures such as this brought it to one’s attention. Your attention, especially.”

“Pizza is good, yes pizza is definitely the way to my heart, Sherlock.” His eyes widen and he beams, showing off one of his dimples. Your heart soars, reaching impossibly higher.

A gesture such as this you would remember for a long while. “This is the kindest thing anyone has done for me and, Sherlock, I like you too.” A smile of your own blossoms along your lips and you reach out for him, linking your index finger with his before standing on your toes to peck his cheek.

“You do?”

“Yes, of course, I do, I’ve only been harboring interest for you all these months we’ve tutored and studied together. You’ve sorta grown on me, like chemistry.”

“It is one of my better subjects.”

“I would hope so since you’re tutoring me in it and Dr. F recommended you to me.”

“They did give me you, yes, the only thing they’ve done right so far,” Sherlock smiles fondly at you, kissing your knuckles. “Thank you for being horrendous in chemistry.”

“No. Thank you. This year was less boring with you, for what it is worth. Plus, I’ve learned a thing or two about chemistry. We’ll see how finals go, alas.”

He scoffs. “We’re far away from them as it is.”

“They’re next week, in case you forgot.” You sigh, trailing your fingers along his bicep, wanting to memorize the feel of him, be lost in him, the way he smells. Nothing matters anymore other than this moment and him and apparently the violent wailing of your stomach.

“Should we eat the pizza?” Sherlock chuckles at your body’s interruption, but you want far more than pizza at the moment, your gaze transfixed on the man before you, your friend, your tutor, the person you’ve come to adore in your way.

You smile, not believing your luck. “The pizza can wait. I’d like to kiss you properly first if I may?”

He nods, tilting up your chin with his finger, his other hand wrapping around your waist, a comforting weight you never knew you needed as the space around you grows smaller and smaller still and you’re part of a universe woven only for you both allowing nothing else in when your lips brush softly, a sigh falling from your parted lips.

He gasps too, his heart hammering in his chest, as you bring your lips closer to his gently, not pressing too tight, giving him room to back away, but he doesn’t, responding in kind to your kiss groaning when your hands wrap around his neck, the weight of you against him comforting and full of warmth.

He doesn’t want it to end, not even when you break for air, he pecks your lips playfully, eliciting a joyous laugh from you. You lean into him more, ruffling his glorious crown of curls, pleased at the faint blush on his cheeks when you do so.

Oh so gently, you bring him in for another kiss and when you break away, it lingers, still so many unspoken words between you. You rest your forehead against him, allowing the stupid grin you’ve tried in vain to suppress breakthrough.

“This has got to be one of the best nights of my life.”

Sherlock quirks his brow. “Even better than when you accidentally slugged Mycroft?”

“If I can recall it was still an accident, even if I had an ulterior motive to get him off our backs.” You roll your eyes, heart full of affection for your beloved chemistry nerd, as you glance about the room, watching the bunsen burner’s glow illuminate your silhouettes on the wall. “It would be best we turn the burners off before we go, yeah? Dr. F would have your head if their lab burned down.”

“Rather they take my head than your, yes,” he huffs, hating to part from you and your warmth to reluctantly snuff the flame.

Once the burners are off he collects his belongings, his coat draped over one arm the violin case in his hand while you grab the pizza box and flowers. You giggle at the absurdity of it all, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

He pulls you closer by his free hand as he opens the door, a chill swirling around you. You shiver at the contact and he immediately sets his instrument case down, holding out his coat to you.

“There’s no need.”

“I insist. It’s the perfect coat for this weather.” He remains standing, opening it for you giving no indication he’s going to budge if you don’t take him up on the offer.

After everything he did for you this evening, you can’t help but oblige, and when you slip your arms through the coat sleeves, you want nothing but to curl up in it in bed.

It was a stunning coat, no wonder he wore it any chance he could. It was probably the finest thing he owned. It smelled of him, encompassing you in warmth and the scent of him.

You were going to have a hard time parting with it, perhaps you’d steal it to goad him, you think to yourself, adding it to your mental checklist as you pull it tighter around you. You definitely are going to keep it for a few days longer than necessary, you decide.

He picks up the instrument case without another word, wrapping his hand around your waist as you walk together down the sidewalk, inhaling the chilly night spring air, the night feeling all the more a dream to you. None of it was a dream, for it is all too real and you can’t believe your luck.

You smile, leaning into him as he meets your stride with his own, down the winding paths that should lead you to your dorm, but the walk feels all too short, the hours passing more like minutes this particular night. Time moves differently when people are infatuated with each other, or so it has been said.

“We can still keep in touch, right?” You ask as you stop by a bench in the courtyard steps from your dorm.

He looks at you, perplexed you’d even ask such a question. “We have expressed our otherwise more than friend affirmations to each other have we not? Of course, I would like to see you. My parents will be more insufferable than usual. I’ll have to resort to living in the attic. Mycroft won’t let me hear the end of it.”

“He can fuck right off for all I care,” you nudge Sherlock playfully and he sways. “Other than that I mean we can write to each other, text, whatever. There’s only so much we can do over the university’s email. Here, I can give you my information.” You rifle through your pocket producing a slip of paper, scribbling your information down. “Will that do?”

Sherlock chuckles, “It’s more than sufficient, though I do prefer to text.”

“Write when you can, yeah?” You smirk. “I find it classier when my potential suitors take the time to write out heartfelt notes of praise and gratitude.”

“You’re not romantic in the slightest.”

“That’s true, but for the right person, perhaps I can be.”

“By the right person, you mean me, of course.”

A small smirk forms along your face. “Now now, Mister Holmes don’t let that ego of yours take hold just yet. However, you might be on to something.” You whisper in his ear, “Perhaps it’s best we make a run for your room tonight? I’d hate to spend the night alone after being in your company.”

“Feeling a bit more adventurous now? Thought you’d turn in early for the night while reading those cheap paperback romances you buy from the markets.”

You feign an offended gasp at his remark. You kept many of those romances hidden under your bed, hating the covers, knowing you wouldn’t hear the end of it from your roommate, but Sherlock? You should've known it wouldn’t pass his scrutiny, but you're secretly delighted he paid attention to some of your reading habits.

You suspected he rifled through your bag and saw it during one of your study sessions when you decided to break for a short nap.

“Did you learn anything interesting?” You raise a brow at his incredulous stare, a light blush tinting his cheeks.

“Not in the slightest,” he drones on, his arm wrapped around yours, bracing you from the cold and you laugh, continuing on your way to his dorm, which he assures you he has all to himself for the night. You rest your head on his shoulder sauntering along, embracing the cold night air.

If one were to watch a happy carefree couple under the moonlight, there was no doubting the thread of affection that wove between them both, cementing them in the strands of time.

All is bright, shiny, and new like the future before them They would make it out in the end. Their future isn’t set in stone, but the possibilities are endless.

Yes, once upon a time, the great detective did live a tale full of laughter and love.

******

#sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x you #university sherlock #sherlock holmes imagine #sherlock holmes fanfiction #sherlock holmes fanfic #bbc sherlock imagine #sherlock fanfiction #bbc sherlock #benedict cumberbatch #sherlock tv #writing request #blooming chemistry

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lost-walmartbag · 1 year

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Prom with Kenny Mccormick

Warning: N/A

Background: In this one-shot, you and Kenny establish your relationship and go to prom together

Status: Request Open

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Your prom was coming up and the school was buzzing. Everyone was excited but you didn't care much. You didn't want to go out and buy a new dress so you had planned on wearing one of your old ones that was fancy enough. Honestly, you did want to go but because Kenny hadn't asked you, you felt indifferent. You two weren't officially dating, but you acted like a couple. Kenny on the other hand was dying of excitement he had picked up a few shifts at the restaurant to get some more money to rent his tux and buy you a dress. While he was beyond excited he still hadn't asked because he thought it was clear you two would go together.

"Hey Kenny~," You say coming up behind him as he walked out of school.

"Oh hey Y/N." He said turning to face you and walking backwards. He had a wide smile on his face showing his tooth gap.

"You heading home?" You ask coming to his side and making him turn forward again.

"Nope got a shift soon." He said with a sigh.

"You've been picking up a lot of shifts lately. Anything, in particular, you're trying to buy?" You ask moving a bit closer to him.

"Your prom dress." He says bluntly making your face turn red.

"Kenny you don't have to do all that." You say pushing his shoulder a bit.

"How can people know you're my girl if we aren't matching?" He asked.

You blushed even harder and looked away. "I'm your girl?"

"Well yeah isn't it obvious?" He asked snaking his arm around your waist and pulling you close as he walked.

"You never really asked," you mumbled.

"Oh. Well, then do you want to go to prom with me?" He asked smirking down at you.

It was a bit off that he only asked about prom and not about you being his girlfriend but you thought that maybe he was bundling them together. You nodded and you both parted ways. A week before the prom you and Kenny went shopping for your outfits. As you were trying on dresses you grew more and more frustrated that nothing seemed to be good enough.

"Come on come out I'm sure you look fine," Kenny said outside the dressing room.

"I don't know.." You said stepping out of the dressing room in an orange flowy dress with a slit on the left leg. "It feels like too much."

Kenny stood up and stayed quiet just staring at you. He walked closer and wrapped his arms around you. You smiled as you felt his arms around your waist.

"It's perfect," Kenny muttered putting his head on your shoulder.

"It's too expensive." You say pulling back.

"I didn't work all those shifts for no reason so change back and let me pay for it." He said kissing your forehead.

You nod and changed back into your clothes handing Kenny the dress which he bought happily. Kenny bought his tux by himself not letting you see him. Once the day of the prom came Kenny showed up at your place after you finished getting ready. You opened the front door seeing Kenny there his haircut and in a white suit with orange accents. He was a bit nervous to see your reaction but once he looked at you he saw the large smile on your face.

"You look amazing baby." You say hugging him making him chuckle.

"So do you." He said taking your hand.

Once you both got to school and walked inside the room you both looked around in aw. Everything was beautiful no doubt Wendy planned out most of it for months. You and Kenny didn't do much dancing just sitting at an empty table eating and talking. Once it was time to announce prom king and queen Wendy got on stage and quickly got everyone's attention.

"Your new prom king is Craig Tucker!" Wendy announced and everyone clapped for him. "And your new queen is Y/N L/N!"

You sat in shock looking over at Kenny who gave you a bright smile. "Go up there baby you deserve it."

You got up and walked on stage where Wendy put your crown on your head. You looked over at Craig and both of you laughed softly. You go over to Wendy and whisper in her ear. Once you finish she nods and smiles.

"Since our King and Queen brought their own dates we invite their dates to come and dance with their King and Queen," Wendy announced.

Kenny and Tweek walk up to the stage. Kenny takes your hand and leads you down while Craig leads Tweek to the dance floor. Slow music starts and Kenny slowly dances with you holding onto you tightly. Tweek and Craig danced just as happily as your classmates watched.

"So Y/N do you want to be my girlfriend?" He whispered into your ear.

"Of course." You respond putting your head on his shoulder.

You felt safe in Kenny's arms it felt like he didn't want to let you go. Suddenly country music started playing and you groaned a bit. Kenny laughed and took the lead dancing around with you.

"Why are you so good at this?" You ask as he lifted up your body with ease.

"Idk guess it's just a redneck thing." He said with a chuckle dipping you low.

You laughed in his arms smiling brightly. Being with Kenny that night was perfect. It was more than you thought it would be and while you felt bad about how much work Kenny put in he knew it was all worth it.

A/N: Hey guys hope you like it! Gave yall a lil angst so now yall can have a nice lighthearted story. Anyways love you all bye bye 🩷

#south park x reader #south park #fanfic #south park x you #x reader #kenny mcormick x reader #kenny mccormick #prom

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roodles03 · 2 years

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My insanely long list of Hunter Headcannons (Updated after Thanks to Them)

(Headcannons pre Thanks to Them)

Hunter really likes stuffed animals, ever since he was a little kid. However, as he grew older he began getting embarrassed about it. Which is why his Sprig plush is hidden under is Pillow.

Hunter also likes cuddling with stuffed animals as he sleeps. It gives him that sense of affection he never had.

Before Flapjack, Hunter would also often talk to his stuffed animals as if they were people. He didn't realise it, but he was doing this due to his extreme loniless.

Hunter throughout his whole life is determined to never show weakness to others. He had to do this to survive in the harsh environment he grew up in. Any sign of weakness would lead to people not taking him seriously at best, to his life being threatened at worst.

Hunter, outside of when he was a baby and a toddler, has hardly cried in his entire life. It definitely wasn't safe for him to show many emotions in the castle, especially sadness. Hunter had to appear strong at all times, which leads back into the thing where Hunter feels like he can't show any weakness. Crying or even just sadness would make him vulnerable, so he repressed it as much as he could. Canonically, we've only seen him cry twice in the show, and once in Dana's art, and even then in all three of those instances, Hunter is obviously fighting back the tears. He's very good at keeping it all in.

The few times he has cried were very slient, and he always made sure he was alone in his room whenever there was the rare chance he couldn't hold the tears back. Even when he was alone he wouldn't let himself bawl or anything.

Whenever Hunter does show weakness, it is extremely hard for him. And if unintentionally shows weakness to an enemy, he gets humiliated.

Even now, if Hunter ever cried in front of his friends, he would be terribly ashamed, humilated, and embarrassed about it. (Decomfirmed)

When Hunter was a baby and Belos was holding him, he would pull on his long hair.

Hunter wears gloves to hide scars on his hands. (Decomfirmed)

After Hunter ran away after Hollow Mind, it was the first time he let himself bawl his eyes out, and even then he felt ashamed for letting himself do that. (The ashamed part is probably deconfirmed)

Hunter doesn't have the best relationship with food, and it's not his fault. Belos controlled everything about his diet, from what he could eat and drink, to how much he could eat and drink, to what times he was allowed to eat and drink. Belos would also take away meals as punishment if Hunter messed up. This led to Hunter beileving that food wasn't a right, it was a privilege that could easily be taken away from him. If he was on missions and missed the permitted times he was allowed to eat, he had no choice but to starve until he was allowed to eat again. And due to deadlines and not wanting to displease his uncle, Hunter would also often skip meals to get missions done faster. The diet Belos had set for him wasn't that great either. It was filled with the blandest, most tasteless foods, but since it was all Hunter knew he didn't mind, or even realise how horrible it was. This is why Hunter is scrawny. Hunter also doesn't like telling people that he's hungry out of fear that people will take advantage of him with that knowledge.

Hunter sometimes sticks his tongue through his tooth gap.

Hunter barely survived the mountian trial in his youth. The only reason he did was because Steve saved him from freezing to death. Hunter, to this day, is very thankful for this, but doesn't show it. (Possibly Decofirmed)

He's also genuinely thankful that Luz saved his life from Kikimora in Hunting Palismen, even when he was still The Golden Guard and had distaste for her.

Playing Flyer Derby was the most fun Hunter ever had in his life, and after it, he dreamed of playing it again someday. Often daydreaming about it and making up games and fake scenarios in his head. (Possibly Confirmed)

He also longed to see Willow again after ASIAS, but knew that due to his shifts that that was impossible. This really hurt, and chatting with her on Penstagram was nice, but it wasn't the same.

He found himself more lonely then ever after ASIAS, because he finally knew what having friends and being a kid was like, and he badly wanted that basic witch-to-witch interaction again.

Hunter definitely knows what romantic feelings are, but doesn't know how they feel. And ss Hunter and Willow chatted on Penstagram, Hunter began to develop romantic feelings for her. However, Hunter had absolutely no idea what he was feeling as he had never felt that way before in his life. At first he denied he was feeling anything at all, but as the feelings grew stronger he finally admitted to himself something was up. He thinks something might be wrong with him, like he's fallen ill or has been cursed. He tries to do research on what could be 'wrong' with him, but since he doesn't even know what he's feeling, he can hardly find the right books to get his answers, and he's too embarrassed to ask anyone for help. Even in the present Hunter still doesn't know what he's feeling.

When Willow wasn't online, Hunter stalked her account.

Hunter secretly draws fanart and writes fanfiction for Ruler's Reach. He likes inserting himself into his fanwork and also has a Mary Sue Ruler's Reach OC.

Hunter was VERY upset and disappointed that Ruler's Reach's sequel was cancelled.

Hunter looks back at kidnapping the Flyer Derby team as one of the most embarrassing memories of his life and it keeps him awake at night.

Often, Hunter's only free time was at night after all his shifts for the day were completed. If Hunter wanted to ever have any fun, he was forced to stay up late and lose sleep. He often lost track of time while he read, played with Flapjack, or used Penstagram until he realised it's like 3 in the morning and he was hardly going to get a wink of sleep.

During these times where he would stay up late, Hunter often found himself getting hungry. However, he never went to get himself a midnight snack, knowing that if he got caught, his uncle would brutally punish him. Hunter often slept hungry due to this.

Hunter and Flapjack often cuddle while they sleep. Flapjack likes nuzzling on Hunter's neck if he is sleeping on his side.

Hunter's preferred sleeping position is the fetal position.

Despite being sleep deprived, Hunter has insomia. When he does try and sleep, his racing thoughts often keep him up. His bed at the castle was so uncomfortable it was hard for him to be able to fall asleep, and even if he managed to fall asleep, he'd often wake up in the middle of the night and be unable to fall back asleep as he dreaded the sound of his alarm. Or he would have a nightmare that would end up keeping him awake.

Hunter has always delt with having nightmares often, but after Hollow Mind, they've gotten to a near excruciating level. He has nightmares pretty much every single night, and they're some of the worst nightmares he's ever had in his life. Due to this, despite having all the time in the world to catch up on a lifetime of sleep debt, Hunter is now afraid to sleep and does it as little as he can. This is why he still has bags.

While he was on the run, Hunter was very reluctant to eat out of the garbage, as he thought it was disgusting. He was only able to do it when Flapjack told him it was either food from the garbage or starvation.

While he was on the run, Hunter didn't have enough food to keep himself properly fed. It wasn't exactly quality food either. He ended up losing weight due to the poor nutrition, making him slightly scrawnier then he already was.

Despite trying to use it as an excuse, Hunter was very, very thankful that Gus gave him that sandwich. It was likely the first decent meal he had in days, and one can only imagine how good it felt to finally not be straving with the only food you have was disgusting leftovers from the trash.

Eating nothing but Hex Mix and food from the garbage definitely upset Hunter's stomach and gave him wicked bellyaches.

With this scarcity of food, Hunter often made sure Flapjack was able to eat more then himself, while Flapjack was doing the exact same thing for Hunter.

Hunter found his clothes he wore in Labyrinth Runners while exploring the school at night while nobody was there. He found them when stumbling apon the boy's locker room.

After putting on these clothes Hunter used a fire glyph to burn his Golden Guard Tunic.

In order to get into Hexside, Hunter was forced to use Flapjack to break a window.

If Hunter is human, then most demon realm foods probably are inedible for him. In the human realm, he finds that he deals with less gastrointestinal problems. (Possibly Deconfrimed)

While Hunter is in the human realm, he has a strange sense that's he's been there before.

When Hunter was very little, he called Belos "Unkie".

Hunter has a very deep grudge for Kikimora after Hunting Palismen.

Hunter was sure to take good care of Flapjack back in the castle, and to his surprise, Flapjack did everything he could to take just as good care of him.

Flapjack wants to make and keep Hunter happy. Making him happy is easy, but he never can keep him happy.

Hunter has given Flapjack kisses before and often pets his belly. He likes baby-talking him.

Hunter is very ticklish but didn't know it since nobody had ever tickled him before. He found out when Flapjack accidentally tickled his neck. (The being ticklish part is possibly confirmed)

Hunter often takes better care of Flapjack then himself, so Flapjack often has to remind him to take care of himself too.

Hunter often ignores his own needs for the sake of the people he cares about. He's afraid of burdening them. (Possibly Deconfirmed)

Since Hunter never really had a free will of his own for 99% of his life, when people ask him what he wants, wether it be what he wants to eat for breakfast or where we wants to go out for fun, Hunter gets very overwhelmed and doesn't know how to respond. (Deconfrimed)

Hunter knows his ears turn red when he blushes and has covered his ears in the past to try and hide it.

Hunter is autistic.

Hunter is bisexual with a preference for women. (Being bi is possibly confirmed)

Hunter finds chubby people cute and attactive.

Zeno Robinson, Hunter's VA, has stated that Hunter's favorite show would be Steven Universe. It's hard to say what his favorite character would be, since he would relate to nearly every Crystal Gem, but his favorite song is That Distant Shore, and his favorite ship is lapidot. He's probably is also a Pink Diamond hater.

Hunter would enjoy heavy metal rock music. He'd also like sad, heavy songs that he can relate to.

When he was the Golden Guard, Hunter's favorite color was yellow, but after Hollow Mind, he no longer knows what his favorite color is.

After a while he realised his favorite color was red.

Hunter was never hugged until Labyrinth Runners. Despite it feeling awkward and embarrassing at the time, ever since Hunter has craved more.

Hunter is EXTREMELY touch starved and loves to be touched by his friends, even though he'd never admit that out of embarrassment.

Hunter is so fearful to tell Willow and Gus he's a grimwalker because he genuinely beileves they will no longer be his friends if they find out. He doesn't want to hide anything from them and feels guilty about it, but he's just too afraid of losing the first friends his age he's ever had. He doesn't want to go through the horrible pain that he'll feel if they betray him, and so he'd rather keep a part of himself secret then risk the pain of that. (Cofirmed)

Hunter has absolutely no idea that there's a chance that Gus might already have a slight idea that Hunter looks just like Caleb.

Realising that he is a clone of Belos' brother will deeply mess with Hunter. (Partially Confirmed)

There will be a point where Hunter can no longer keep his feelings bottled up and he will be break down in tears in front of his friends. (100% Confirmed. Literally happened)

If Hunter heard from someone that it's okay to cry, it would do him wonders.

Hunter views help as weakness, and due to his determination to not show weakness, he never asks for help and often will refuse help. (Decomfirmed)

Hunter's chronic sleep deprivation has led to him making stupid mistakes which caused him punishment from Belos.

Hunter has fallen asleep during meetings before, and this, of course, also led to punishment from Belos.

Hunter only gets an average of 4-5 hours of sleep a night. 6 if he's lucky, and 7 if he's REALLY lucky. Sometimes he doesn't get a single hour of sleep at all. However, he pretty much never gets a full eight hours almost ever.

Hunter was hesitant to trust Darius at first, but has slowly opened up more to him over time. After Hollow Mind, he views him more like a father-figure.

Hunter accidentally called Darius dad once and was extremely embarrassed about it.

There is an existing headcannon that since Hunter is a grimwalker, he can withstand heat a lot more then the average person. So why don't we take this a step further and make it so Hunter is VERY intolerant to the cold. Like it's 65 degrees outside on a autumn day and Hunter is shaking like a leaf because he's freezing. Hunter would hate the colder months due to this.

Hunter would be a massive caffeine addict.

Hunter would be a carb eater. As in most of the foods he likes to eat would be heavy in carbs.

He would also enjoy sweets and meat.

(Headcannons Post Thanks to Them)

Hunter will blame himself for Flapjack's death.

Hunter is going to be the saddest he's ever been in his life for the next episode.

While he's grieving, he'll struggle to do basic things like attending his bodily needs (like eating drinking and sleeping) and possibly even other things like not keeping up with his hygiene.

Hunter will deeply regret the fact that one of his last interactions with Flapjack was yelling at him

Hunter's eyes are now brown because of Flapjack's eyes.

When Hunter told Luz he was family, he was trying to hold in the tears as much as he could.

Hunter definitely has a crush on Willow.

Hunter really, really likes all animals now, not just palismen.

Hunter wants to help restore the Palistrom trees out of being endangered.

Hunter wants his occupation to be a palisman craver when he is an adult.

Hunter was partially lying when he said all he missed was knowing who he's supposed to be. He knows he shouldn't but part of him still misses his old life as the Golden Guard.

Hunter wants to avenage Flapjack's death.

Hunter has been getting more and more sleep.

It's possible that he's been sleep deprived for so long, that even now when he's been getting more sleep, his bags might never go away

Hunter would've died if it weren't for Flapjack's sacrifice.

Luz and/or Camillia will comfort Hunter in his grief over Flapjack since they know exactly what he's going through.

Hunter was desperately trying to fight off Belos the entire time, and was only able to be able to prevail once Belos made him hurt Flapjack.

Hunter missed Darius while he was trapped in the human realm.

Hunter would stay up late reading that book.

Luz said Hunter was a grimwalker while he was still unconscious, so Hunter has no idea that his friends now know.

Hunter is a loud snorer. He often kept Gus awake at night.

Hunter is a Furry and his fursona would be a wolf.

Hunter is complete shit at cooking.

When Hunter was little, he had a heavy lisp.

In the Emperor's Coven, Hunter either was never allowed or didn't even have the option for a snooze button. While on the run, he barely slept due to the insane stress he was under, being paranoid and always wanting to keep watch, and possibly his hunger keeping him up when he did try and sleep After getting trapped in the human realm was really the first time Hunter ever had luxury to get enough sleep. It felt strange and wrong at first, waking up at absurd times in the morning and not understanding why no one was awake, but he slowly grew used to it and grew to really enjoy sleeping in. And if he did have to get up early for whatever reason, he now is a constant snoozer

Hunter is the kinda kid who is "I starve until lunch" in school. He snoozes too much in the mornings and always misses breakfast. Hunter always ends up regretting skipping breakfast, swears to never to it again, and then repeats the cycle the next day. At first, it was rare for Hunter's friends to catch that he was hungry, mainly since Hunter wouldn't say anything, but if they did, they'd always give him a snack. Hunter would always be extremely thankful for this. Eventually, all his friends realize that Hunter never eats in the morning before school, so they all start giving him snacks when he gets to school.

Hunter and Gus went on serveal midnight snack sprees where they raided the fridge at absurd times at night when they were hungry.

#the owl house #the owl house hunter #hunter the owl house #hunter toh #toh hunter #toh discussion #the owl house discussion #hunter the golden guard #huntlow #long post #toh headcanon #flapjack toh #toh flapjack #the owl house flapjack #flapjack the owl house

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notshelbyuwu · 9 months

Text

HC TIME! (+small casual au i made in 5 minutes)

Gordon Freeman (He/Him, Bisexual)

-Older than Felix by 56 minutes and 45 seconds

-Mom passed away when he was 5

-Was left with his dad and his brother, and his dad wasn't the most loving guy

-Despite being twins, Gordon always had more responsibility put on him by his dad than Felix, (even as an adult, which is why he's a substance abuser especially during work hours)

-Now as an adult, he works at Black Mesa where he was picked to help with a major secret test

-Having to deal with all the responsibility, bailing Felix out of trouble and being trusted with a shit load of work, he copes by having a massive ego, "I can handle whatever people decide to drop on me, I'm better and smarter than all of you" then breaks down at night

-Gordon has connections at Black Mesa and is chummy with the higher ups, no matter how snobby he thinks they are

-Realized he was bi a little before his 27th birthday, but he was raised with... A very old fashion way of thinking. (Hes over it now, he doesn't care who dates who except for himself, because... Guilt.)

-his dads death was a mixed bag of emotions, including guilt about who he is, but he doesn't like to talk about it

-Despite feeling guilt, it didn't stop him from dating a guy for a week before backing out and ghosting him.

-although Gordon cannot stand Felix sometimes, he still bails him out of trouble and he hangs out with him after work cause that's really the only person he has at this point (they watch movies or go out for beers)

-has mild paranoia

-Loves pirates, legit has a pirate costume he wears for fun

-sometimes he'll speak like a pirate to annoy Felix

-Gordon likes turtles for some reason, but he doesn't have time for pets right now

-loves sour food/candy, not much of a sweets person

(Causal AU)

The test went without really anything too bad, at the last second, someone turned the machine from 105% back to 100%, the portal didnt malfunction, however it still teleported Gordon to the area with the Vortigaunts and one attacked him, going straight for the face, knocking him over and damaging his eye and parts of his ear, once he teleports back he gets sent to the infirmary and Black Mesa is thrilled at the results Freeman was able to bring back, despite the cost of it.

Felix Freeman (He/Him, Demisexual, Pansexual)

-da younger twin

-has lived in Gordon's shadow basically his whole life (his dad paying more attention to Gordon, even if it was for negative reasons)

-this causes him to act out, even as an adult, getting in trouble at work (the job Gordon got him) by touching stuff he wasnt supposed to or taking things from work

-this, makes him look very childish

-his first week he met Barney and would have lunch with him, not telling him about his brother right away, not wanting to deal with comparisons

-Felix isn't much of a drinker but will go out for drinks with Barney or Gordon once in a while

-Felix is absolutely shit at video games shooter, but he still plays em with Barney sometimes

-is really into conspiracy theories, and especially loves aliens and the idea of alien life in space, he shares this love with Chell

-not much of a pet person but he thinks dogs are cool, mostly Chihuahua's cause Gordon hates them

-he almost set his kitchen on fire once

Barney Calhoun (He/Him, Transmasc, Bisexual)

-Grew up in a Latino household but he still doesn't know Spanish.

-came out as trans at 16, his dad was accepting, his mom not so much. His dad is still learning so he gets stuff wrong sometimes

-he loves planes, he trained to be a pilot but Black Mesa rejected the position and instead offered him a job as a security guard, he half-heartedly accepted but he makes the most outta it.

-he thinks ninjas are really cool and used to have a ninja costume when he was 10

-he was diagnosed with ADHD when he turned 20

-when he was little he had a slight tooth gap, it was barely noticeable so he didn't think he needed braces and refused em, but as he got older the gap got worse and he hates the idea of braced

-he once snuck his switch into work. He got caught instantly.

-he carries his phone and earpods with him everywhere

-his playlist is mostly video games OST and fanmade songs

-definitely has a thing for Gordon (for some reason)

-Barney has interacted with Gordon many times and is under the impression they're on good terms, however, he just so happened to catch Gordon when he was either drunk or high, so Gordon has no idea who Barney is

-Loves lost media, he finds comfort in it no matter how dark it is

-looooves snacks, his favorite is spicy cheese popcorn

-Drinks monsters like it's water (someone help this man)

-hes saving up to adopt a cat

~~~

BONUS:

Chell Nanako (She/Her They/Them, Pansexual) (NOT CHELLS MIND, this is my own version of her)

-was in and out in a lot of foster homes until she was 18

-They didn't get the best education but saw an ad for paid test subjects for a science facility called Aperture Science.

-She met Felix who was applying for the same job, they talked and exchanged numbers in the waiting room. Felix wasn't willing to sign the contract that said Aperture couldn't be held accountable for any injury so the job went to Chell

-Chell moved in with Felix, and they dated for a 2 and a half weeks before Chell realized she wasn't ready for a relationship and Felix realized he barely knew Chell and didn't like them that way

-Chell still lives with Felix and they grow closer everyday

-She knows Aperture and Black Mesa are rivals and they finds it funny how she's not allowed in Black Mesa

-Due to the way she grew up, they have extreme paranoia and intrusive thoughts about other people, she's only really comfortable around Barney, Felix, and rarely Gordon.

-Chell doesn't really get along with Gordon

-Chell loves strawberry flavor sweets

-loves Mountain Dew and drinks it when she needs an energy boost

-They doesn't really like chocolate

-She loves sea creatures, her favorite is angel fish

(Casual AU)

Chell signed up for Aperture Science's test subjects, she was asleep for around 2 months and then the events of Portal 1 happened, but instead, Doug Rattman was able to save Chell from being dragged back into Aperture by the part escort bots and he took her to a nearby hospital, leaving before she woke up.

Eddie Marlowe (He/Him, Transmasc, Gay)

-Gordon's ex

-he is the "I know a guy" guy

-used to just have a business relationship with Gordon (selling him stuff, and somehow, a human skull) but they hung out and became friends... And then...

-Gordon one day broke up with Eddie after a week of dating and ghosted him, he got played dirty and he never found out why

-he's a college drop out and lives in an apartment

-frequently dyes his hair but his favorite color is green

-he has a hard drive full of pirated shows and movies

-he has a pet bird named Dazzy

-his parents don't know about his... "Job" and think he's a salesman, which is somewhat true

-Eddie isn't a snack person, he prefers big meals

-Eddie is a great cook

~~~

EXTRA BONUS:

Heights, current age, and birthdays! I wrote the birthdays weird my bad, it was 1 am

Barney: July 19th - Gordon & Felix: October 23rd - Eddie: May 11th - Chell: December 15th

#freemans mind #gordon freemind #half life barney #barney calhoun #barneys mind #barmey calhoun #buttermind #felixs mind #felix freeman #felix freemind #chell #chell portal #woag #hell yeah i love mischaracterization #this took a looooong time to get out my bad #:3 #notshelbyuwu

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lookbluesoup · 1 year

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I WISH you would write a fic where lyrha does some crime. just a little criminal activity, as a treat. how serious the crime is is up to you. (hopefully this isn't too vague I've never sent one of these in before lol)

Thank you! :D Lyrha would argue this isn't actually stealing this is just getting fair and square but... the Immortal Flames would probably disagree if they caught her. If X'rhun's hair wasn't already white, she'd be the reason for it turning.

Content warnings for: Ul'dah

Ul’dah was always risky business. Not a port town… but a lot of merchants. A lot of rich lalafells with trading ships which Lyrha may or may not have robbed in a past life. And a hub for the more mercenary minded – bounty hunters with long memories and few scruples.

And while ‘black haired Wildwood Elezen man from the Shroud’ or ‘blonde Ala Mhigan Hyur woman with red eyes and a limp’ could mean any number of people… ‘green-eyed calico Seeker of the Sun with an I-tribe brogue and a golden tooth’ was going to stand out no matter what.

She might wear The Red now, but the cut of her jib disguised little enough. Masking her accent and making sure not to smile too wide might help some… but a green eyed calico was still going to draw attention in Eorzea’s most corrupt city. Lead to questions, if she crossed the wrong stranger in the street. It’d happened before. And this time, X’rhun wasn’t here to insist on her behalf or watch her back.

But she wouldn’t be such a valuable mark if she was unworthy of the challenge to equal it. A smuggler knew her trade, and there were some things you never really left behind, even if your reasons for doing them changed...

All of which was to say Lyrha did not believe it overly-cautious, wearing a long dark cloak, and dyeing her fur black with pickled leeches mashed into goo. She reeked of vinegar, which meant she smelled a great deal better than most of the poor lining the street as she walked.

She avoided the Adventurer’s Guild and high-brow circles of the city, and stepped lightly through the less governable spaces, minimizing the risk of drawing unwanted scrutiny. A great deal of time and effort had gone into not being noticed.

And yet.

Lyrha sighed. Nearly a groan. And rolled her eyes at her own accursed conscience.

But the little boy was crying. A pitiful half-starved scrap of Ala Mhigan refuse on the flagstone, soon to be an orphan. Father died in debt and mother couldn’t pay the dues. They were taking her away. Just another day in Ul’dah. Another story she’d seen play out a hundred different ways.

A year ago she’d call him another child who would sink or swim on his own merit, and his mother another fool too proud to do what it took to survive in this world.

But Lyrha owed allegiance to a different code, now. Even when X’rhun wasn’t here to watch her. She considered walking her own way, ignoring it. She always considered not getting involved, like her instincts urged.

X’rhun was right about at least one thing, though. It was dreadfully amusing to thwart someone. And the overdressed little merchant prancing away ahead of his hired blades and roughed up captive was absolutely, without a doubt, positively begging for a good thwarting.

Lyrha knelt down beside the boy, placing a hand on his shoulder. He looked up sharply, eyes red around the rims with blatant grief. She grinned, wide enough to show off the one golden tooth, and asked quietly, “Did yer mama or papa ever tell ye stories about the Crimson Duelists, lad?”

His brow furrowed, but he nodded through his sniffling.

Lyrha parted the gap in her dark cloak just wide enough for him to see the red of her bliaud underneath.

Blonde eyebrows bolted upright, and he stared her full in the face, sobs relenting ever-so-slightly.

Grinning conspiratorially, Lyrha asked next, “Do ye know the way t’the Coin an’ Coffer, the tavern at Black Brush Station?”

He nodded again.

“I want ye pack up anything that’s important to you and yer mama, and go there straightaway, alright? There’s a man there in a suit red enough to make a tomato blush, with a pointy hat tha’s got white feathers in it, an’ a tail t’match. Tell ‘im what happened an’ that I’lyrha sent ye. He’ll take care of ye from there.”

Glancing down the street where the man and his henchmen had turned, Lyrha’s tailtip twitched. “I’ll be along with yer mama shortly after. Now go-on.”

She nudged him, and the boy darted like a startled fawn, looking back at her with the faintest of hopeful smiles. She winked. Stood.

Most likely, a black haired Sunseeker with green eyes, a golden tooth, and an I-tribe accent was about to get a bounty of their own. After all… the poncy geezer was costing Lyrha a chance to finish her actual business in Ul’dah. He’d have to make it worth her while. Blood and coin were the currencies here, and she knew how to bargain with both.

If he hadn’t gil on-hand to compensate her for the trouble, well, he’d been wearing enough jewels to set a pirate up for months. He could part with a few.

She was sure he’d also be reasonable about giving up a few of his baubles to the poor widow ma’am and her fatherless son, so they could have a fresh start somewhere new. Seeing how it was his mining operation that put them in the position to begin with.

Lyrha still wasn’t convinced her conscience was doing her any favors. But this… this would make it a little better.

#for someone who doesnt like kids and doesnt care about strangers #lyrha you sure stick your neck out for them #ffxiv #fanfic #red mage #lyrha #my fanfic #verheart

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ac3id · 4 years

Text

The Artist and His Majesty| 18+

𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝓉𝒾𝓈𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝒶𝒿𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓎 0 / 5 | fantasy au.

chapter i , chapter ii

pairings: yandere! emperor! shigaraki x female! reader.

warnings: [series] dubcon, exhibitionism, size difference, degradation, masturbation, bondage, reader is also kind of delusional, death, violence (not on reader). (there are more but i can’t think right now.]

↪ for chapter 0: none !!

summary: you come to the big city in hopes of starting your career as an artist but things take a shocking turn when you’re recruited as the court painter for the royal palace.

↪ for chapter 0: a strange man approaches you, offering to buy your painting to which you oblige. little do you know that it kicks of a series of unfortunate events ending with you being trapped in shigaraki tomura’s clutches forever.

wordcount.

a/n: finally !! i started this series. high-key inspired by these two dresses in my wardrobe and @ana-list‘s this drawing ! seriously it’s literally everything. also thank you once again for proof reading this @the-grimm-writer !

taglist: @shigaraki-is-my-master, @deathmemeiverse, @n4dhii, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love, @mstssister, @nereida19, @prince-zukohere [dm to be added/ removed.]

“That’s a beautiful painting,” a rough, scruffy voice calls out, jerking you away from your daydreams. Your grip around the color canvas resting in your arms tightens as you glance behind your shoulder to see a well-built man standing right behind you. He’s tall and a lot older than you, he has short grey hair which falls right before his eyebrows along beautiful, matching grey eyes. A cigar hangs lazily from his lips as he occasionally huffs on it, blowing clouds of smoke out his mouth. He’s dressed in expensive robes, a choice of style only people better off could afford. You can’t help exachaning a covetous glance between his expensive suit and your sloppy, knee-length, light green dress. “Thank you.” you murmur shoving him an appreciative look, hoping he’d leave you alone. When you come to the city to complete your studies in art, you mother, father, family and friends had warned you about men like these. Rich, snobby men who liked to lure in young, naive girls. Whispering praises of how they are the most unique on the planet so they pull their guard down form them to take advantage of the helpless beings.

“Can I take a better look? It’s the Emperor, is it not? Your painting. ” You hesitate before turning back to him. Not a lot of people had seen the King to be. He lived humbly in his castle, trying his best to not indulge in the affairs of the common people. “ Yes,” you hold up the slightly small canvas (courtesy of you being broke the entire week and not being able to save up to buy a bigger canvas). To even get an idea of Shigaraki Tomura, you had to go through many people. Not a lot of people had seen his face, he had always kept it hidden under a mask. No one knew why he did so but the many conspiracy throes suggested it was something to do with his personal grief.

You had heard many stories about him. Some made him look like a spoiled brat with a demeaning, ignorant personality who didn’t care for others and as the rumors said: self destructive habits which lead him to tear the skin of his own neck down whenever he got anxious or frustrated.

Others portrayed him as a strong, confident man and a reliable leader who cared for his comrades. You did not know which one of the two personas brought him your attention but you couldn’t complain. Tomura had caught you under a spell, and despite never meeting him (and knowing full well you never would), you were still ready to sacrifice your life for him. He was your King even before he had taken his crown, to you he looked like a shining bright light ready to enlighten you. To you, he was a god. And as years passed by, he grew from a caterpillar into a cocoon which was ready to burst open as a butterfly into the beautiful, mysterious world. And it was happening today, Prince Tomura Shigaraki’s Coronation ceremony. After the passing of All For One, it was his turn to take the crown and fulfill his duty as the ruler of the nation

The entire city was busy, bustling with people. Families, friends and everyone in between gathered around the huge castle walls as they waited for the ceremony to begin. They waited patiently, filled with excitement and joy as they waited to catch a glimpse of the new great King. You were among them. You had come down to the centre of the city with your friends, waiting alongside many to catch a glimpse of the new ruler. The painting which nestled in your hand was something you were hoping to sell today, to a shop or anyone who wants to have it. It was a beautiful painting which had taken you several days to complete, and dare you say it, you were quite proud of it. From all the things you had heard about Tomura, you had managed to sketch him decently. Long white, wavy hair reaching till his shoulder, skin white as snow. He sat proudly on his throne wearing a cape with his vermillion eyes peering through your soul. His face was scarcely detailed as you did not have much idea about it but he still looked ethereal. With little scars running both his eyes and a comparatively larger one on his right. Chapped lips with even more scars running over them wildly, he was not conventionally attractive. No one would call him a pretty boy yet there was something more, something alluring which attracted you to him. His beauty was rare, not in the grasp of many but if it was grasped and held close to the heart, it was hard to let go off. And you found him attractive, very attractive.

The man took a good look at your painting, examining it carefully and for a second you really thought he had seen the mysterious Prince. “It’s quite similar to him,” he sends you a friendly grin and you notice a tooth from his front missing, leaving an uncomfortable gap. “Have you seen him before?” he asked and you shake your head, no. He gives you an amused expression, “I must say, you are very talented, miss…?” you complete your name with a nervous smile. “And you are?” you ask.

You realised that you were getting a little too comfortable with the stranger and it could be a really bad decision but you can’t help but give him the benefit of the doubt as he behaves like a gentleman you can find yourself to trust. “Kagero Okuta but I like to go by Giran,” he says with a lop-sided grin. Giran, you’ve heard the name before but cannot recall where and how. It sounds so familiar but you just can’t grasp it, he looked wealthy so you assumed he was a Noble and that made you even more curious as to why he was speaking to you.

“What are you planning to do with that painting?” he asks, diving a closer look and admiring its features. “I must say, you’ve got it quite accurate but,” you stiffen, your hands growing cold as your heartbeat picks up. You realized your painting must have some complications, drawing a man you had never seen before purely out of your interpretation was a hard and a bold task to do. But to have someone who had actually seen the King for himself pinpoint your mistakes sent a rush of anxiety through your veins.

“He’s not that bony.” He completes and you gulp nervously, looking down at your painting in disappointment. Your eyes are filled with disappointment, all of the time and effort you spent making the piece all for it go in vain just because you missed a small detail. Giran notices your remorse and speaks up, “But that’s quite alright. He looked just like that until a while ago,” he hadn’t meant to offend or hurt you. He still believed your painting was the most beautiful thing he had seen all day.

“What do you mean?” you ponder, giving him a perplexed look. He leans in closer to you as if to tell a secret, “let’s say the King has been working out behind closed doors.” you blink in confusion. It was a strange thing to say, exactly how well did this man know the Emperor? Who was it that you were talking?

“Who are you?” you can’t help but question, bewildered by such a character. Giran says nothing. He just stares at you with his lips curled into a snappy smirk, holding his cigar between his lips. He was not going to tell you anything. Without wasting time, he quickly changes the topic. “What are you going to do with that painting?” he repeats, his voice growing impatient.

“I am planning to sell it,” you feel a bit taken back. The friendly aura which had Giran had now disappeared for a reason you could not conclude. “Sell it? To whom?” the intruding nature of his tone starts to make you uncomfortable, there’s nothing more you want to do other than get far away from him. Yet you still find yourself answering him, “To anyone who wants it.” he hums at your response, his eyes holding a mocking glint. “Wouldn’t you like to give it to the Emperor himself?” you frown, was he mocking you?

“That’s well...impossible.” you reply, stretching your neck awkwardly. “To you, maybe.”

You stop yourself from rolling your eyes, this man was really testing your patience. A part of you tells you to ignore him and walk away but as he reaches into his coat and pulls out a bag of coins worth much more than you could ever earn in a month, he has you hooked yet again.

“Hey, let me buy that painting, would yer’?”

“What is the problem now?” Giran takes a seat around the round table. It was late after the Coronation ceremony and the Royal palace was already facing problems. Giran was disappointed but definitely not surprised. After all, he was their personal problem solver and broker. “It’s not that big of a deal.” A curt and hard reply cut him off.

“It actually is, Shigaraki Tomura.” a voice speaks, coming from a man dressed in a black suit with a long, flowy robe covering his entire body. He stands taller than the other two men in the as his head is replaced with a wisp of smoke. He was none other than the trusted and talented magician of the Royal family. With eccentric features and an ability to wield strange magic, nobody knew where he came from. There were many rumors about him; that he was once a normal, handsome man cursed by a witch that turned him into a hideous monster or he simply was a ghost. “What is it, Kurogiri?” Giran rephrases his question, directing it to the other man. “We need a new painter,-”

“Servant.” Shigaraki corrected. He stood in front of the giant windows glancing over his city as his men talked about hiring a new painter for the castle. He couldn’t care less about such tedious tasks, he had his focus set on greater things like expanding his territory, taking back stolen land.

“What happened to Mr. Kyo?” Giran asked, Shigaraki rolled his eyes at the mention of the name and clicked his tongue, “His Majesty eliminated him.” Giran stops himself from laughing out loud. He was certain once Shigaraki would take over the throne incidents like so would double the instant. But he was expecting it to happen so soon. “And why was that?”

“He was breathing too loud, like you are right now.”

A cold silence broke over the room as Giran counted his breath. Kurogiri looked nervously at Shigaraki who still had his back turned to them. The longer the pause grew, the dreadful the atmosphere became. Shigaraki’s threat strung the air loud and clear and Giran was afraid to speak again. “What we are asking for is that-,” Kurogiri started in a calm, slow tone easing the tension in the room. “-we need a new court painter. Do you have any names?”

The murderous sent in the air magically disappeared as a grin stretched across Giran’s face.

“Aren’t you in luck?” He says, running a hand through his hair before taking a puff out of his cigar. “Does that mean you know someone?” Kurogiri questioned. Giran hummed, “You see, I met this beautiful painter today. She’s extremely talented and I know for a fact she will love working for the castle.”

“What’s the name?” growing impatient, Shigaraki asks. “Oh, it was,” Giran pauses for a moment to recall.

“Ah yes, Y/N L/N.”

1K notes · View notes

ephemerlskies · 4 years

Text

of honey and cinnamon | jjk

⇢ pairing: jungkook x reader

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

⇢ word count: 14k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hey, where are you going?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Well, are you going home?"

"Yes... are you?"

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

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

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

"You already asked that."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Day One

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Almost.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh, sorry. I didn't-"

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

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

Just this once, you thought.

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

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

"Am not." You muttered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Quietly? This process is anything but quiet."

"Then try your very hardest."

"I'll try. Emphasis on try."

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

"What's a time signature?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That sucks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I suppose you hate everything I love.”

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

“What are you looking for?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“___? Are you okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Day Two

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No. It's okay.”

“But-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Done!”

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

“Done with what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m always with you, darling.”

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

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

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

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

“You know, love. You know.”

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

Day Three

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s this?” He said groggily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about you? Where would you go?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re an idiot, Jungkook.”

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

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

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

Someone you would inevitably begin to fall in love with.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you.”

And all he needed to say was:

“I love you too.”

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

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acciofanfics · 3 years

Text

Teacher’s Pet (Remus Lupin x Reader) Part 6 SMUT

Summary: (Y/N) wants to be a professor at Hogwarts. Dumbledore offers her a chance to intern and figure out what she wants to do… hopefully she’ll make it through the year.

Pairing: Remus Lupin x FemReader

Warnings: Age gap, SMUT and language.

A/N: So idk I kinda hate this... idk why 😂 but the overwhelming consensus was smut so TA-DA! - S

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It was almost comical how quickly things had changed between the two. Somethings remained similar, like the playful flirting and the stolen glances were still there... but ever since their kiss, the tension in the air was thick enough that it could be cut with a knife. There just wasn’t enough time or privacy in the day to replicate the circumstances in the few days following. It wasn’t like they were really in the position to entertain a proper label or schedule; Remus flirted with the idea of asking her on a proper date, but that wasn’t exactly practical. Remus didn’t know which was worse: feeling like he hadn’t been permitted to act on his desires or rather knowing how it felt to give in and physically not be able to.

Remus’ lips twitched into a small grin when he saw (Y/N) smile at him from a few pieces of parchment. He watched as discreetly as he could, still trying to give as much attention as he could to the task he had at hand. Honestly, he wondered how (Y/N) was possibly juggling the workload she had... especially recently. He’d often see her running around like a chicken with its head cut off, sprinting from classrooms all over the castle. He’d seen her bring homework assignments with her to dinner and it seemed that in the past week or so the piles were getting bigger. It hadn’t really occurred to the man how much of the time they spent together happened during schooling hours or the occasional walk at night, but he hadn’t seen her outside office hours in what seemed like awhile.

Remus knew he was probably doing this for more selfish reasons. Honestly it was probably more of a chance to get her alone and to himself. An argument could be made that it was to give the struggling young woman a break though. Remus made his way over to her once he had his student working on something that didn’t require his complete attention. Wand movements usually did the trick. In a low voice he simply suggested, “If you’re feeling a little rebellious, meet me on the fourth floor tonight when everyone is in bed.”

Remus hadn’t been able to get any verbal confirmation before being summoned back to his responsibilities, but judging by the mischievous glint in her eyes he had assumed the answer to be a yes. He had very much looked forward to it all day, and he was more than please to see (Y/N) already waiting for him. She smiled sheepishly at him, “Guess I was a little early.”

He didn’t blame her, he would’ve been a bit earlier himself had he not misplaced his wand briefly. Remus chalked it up to feeling like a teenager again with the sneaking out and around, with all of the excitement an old habit of losing his belongings was bubbling up too. “Seems like I was running a bit late. Come on, I have somewhere in mind you might enjoy.”

(Y/N) eagerly followed him to a mirror, and though she didn’t often find herself avoiding mirrors she didn’t know if she’d go as far as to say she enjoyed them. It wasn’t very long at all though that Remus was carefully moving a mirror that revealed a passageway that had been carved out. Once the two had ducked into the clandestine hallway and he had lit up the darkness with the tip of his wand, Remus replaced the mirror. “Whoa! I didn’t know this existed!”

It was common knowledge there were many secret passageways hidden in Hogwarts. The location of which were less known, but if that had been common knowledge too they would no longer be secret. “James and- my friends used to have a knack for finding these things.”

“You all must’ve done quite a bit of sneaking out, huh?” She joked while following the passageway down a little bit.

“A fair share of it sure... though we weren’t supposed to tell anyone.” Remus wasn’t lying, but he knew that on more than one occasion James and Sirius used a few of these passages to impress a pretty girl. He supposed he was just a little late on the trend.

“Well, I won’t tell if you don’t. Where does this go?” (Y/N) asked out of pure curiosity, though now that she thought about it, it was probably good practice to know where you were going.

“It comes out right outside of Hogsmeade. Of course that’s a long walk, I know.”

“Well, that’s okay. I feel like I could use a break.” She smiled and began walking with Remus. (Y/N) felt like she’d gotten a good bit better at juggling what had left her so overwhelmed her first week officially working at Hogwarts. However, these past couple of days had been a little hectic and she should’ve 100% been grading those homework assignments McGonagall asked if she could take on, but couldn’t refuse the offer.

Remus quite fond of the walk they shared. He asked about her years at Hogwarts and her family and she inquired the same. He didn’t think he could recall the last occasion he’d really taken the time to get to know someone or had them try and do the same. By the time they reached the end of the passageway, (Y/N) knew that he was an only child and had quite the sweet tooth even as a boy. He knew that conversely she came from quite a large family, but she’d agree that dessert was definitely the best course.

The room they’d arrived in was quite large, but it was obviously that anyone who knew of its location has long abandoned it. It showed no signs of any visitors in probably years. Still, (Y/N) found it to be quite a fun visit. A little dusty sure, but nothing a quick flick of her wand couldn’t fix. “Well, now that we’re here what are your plans?”

“Right...” Remus didn’t think that far ahead, which he would like to say was a bit unusual. Of course the ultimate goal had been to spend alone time with her, but now that was accomplished... “I ought to be better prepared ne-“

She was well aware it was rude to interrupt people, but she she would do it anyways. (Y/N) stood on her toes and grabbed hold of the front of his sweater and yanked Remus down to her level. She thought the act of crashing her lips into his might’ve been a little sexier had she not been so short in comparison. Remus however did not mind one bit hunching down to her level. This thought had definitely crossed his mind, but hadn’t want to be too forward. Now that he thought about it, he should’ve seen it coming. (Y/N) was very forward with what she wanted. Back at the Three Broomsticks she’d commented that she didn’t make the first move, but he supposed that wasn’t entirely true. He wasn’t complaining though. It was quite the opposite as he immediately responded, kissing her back and circling his arm around her.

(Y/N) broke away with a wide grin, “That wasn’t your plan?”

Remus chuckled, and straightened himself out, “No, but I’m always open to suggestions.”

(Y/N) pulled away leaving Remus quite confused. Perhaps she was annoyed it hadn’t been his sole intention to snog the woman. He felt better when she made her way to a wooden table set in the center on the room. He was certain she would sit down but instead she turned to face him. A small moment of hesitation seemed to cross her mind before she spoke, “I hope you wouldn’t think too little of me if I confessed this had been my plan...”

(Y/N) wasn’t lying. She’d desperately been hoping for an uninterrupted moment alone and wanted to be prepared in case she got that moment. Now that she had it well she hoped it wouldn’t be entirely too fast for the man.

Remus watched as she kicked off her shoes. She then pulled her shirt over her head and her pants had been the next article of clothing to follow. The undergarments that had now been exposed to him were quite nice to look at, especially with the model wearing them. The way the lace laid so perfectly against her skin made his heart beat just a tad bit faster and left him staring, or better yet ogling her. He felt a little lame, just standing there. He had hoped, counted on being close to (Y/N). He’d hoped they would’ve had a chance to - This just far exceeded what he’d hoped to accomplish.

It also wouldn’t have been untrue to say he’d been a little out of practice. Not new or naive to the subject, but it definitely wasn’t something he did on the regular. He normally was well aware of the fact it was nothing to be ashamed of, but did feel himself grow a little uncomfortable with the fact as she stood there in front of him. He definitely hoped he wouldn’t disappoint.

Staring was probably a better sign than him getting up and walking away. (Y/N) did wish he’d say something though. She felt so entirely vulnerable and was now a little fearful of rejection... “Too much?”

Her voice snapped Lupin back to reality. Her face showed she was starting to feel uncomfortable, and Remus felt terrible. That had definitely not been his intention. He decided it best if he just shut off his head and led his instincts take over.

In an instant he was in front of her, lifting her into the table bringing her to a much more comfortable height for him. His lips were on hers and if the first kiss had been good, well this one had been amazing. (Y/N)’s confidence quickly regained and excitement took over knowing exactly where this was going. Her legs parted, allowing her the opportunity for Remus to settle between them and her to pull him closer.

Remus’ hands met the bare skin of her thighs and traveled up and down her leg. The skin of his hands was so rough comparatively, but the contrast felt so unfamiliar and welcome. (Y/N) couldn’t help but be hyper aware of everywhere he touched and everywhere she wanted him to do so. Patience was a virtue wearing thin on her at the present moment and she found her hands quickly pulling the cost from his shoulders and working a few buttons on the shirt that he was wearing underneath. She was much too impatient to care enough to rid him of the entire shirt, once a few buttons were undone and it had been untucked she gave up on the task. She favored dipping her hands underneath the fabric, she just wanted to touch. Remus shivered a bit against her fingertips.

(Y/N) abandoned his mouth and trailed her kisses towards his neck. Remus was being absolutely driven mad by the nibbling. A gasp interrupted her and Remus smirked as his fingers carefully brushed against her clothed core. His touch was so light it could’ve almost been construed as an accident, if the knowing look hadn’t completely given him away. Ever the tease, and partially because he was no where near done with her, Remus didn’t give any indication there would be a follow-up. He moved his hand up actually and drug his fingertips lightly across her shoulders and chest, outlining the bra she was wearing. She arched into him, whimpering just a bit; she had no idea Remus Lupin was such a tease and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to handle it. (Y/N) had never been one to beg in the bedroom, of course she’d never really been with anyone taking such time and care; it was usually a heated spur of the moment type of setting (kind of what she expected from this). Still, there was a first time for everything, “Please touch me...”

Really Remus could’ve been content sitting there doing nothing but stand there and egg her on. It would’ve been torture for him too, but listening to the noises she made and feeling her breath quicken under his fingertips would’ve made it worth it. But her plea was too much, and Remus not only felt obligated but he wanted to oblige her request. Reaching behind he unclasped her bra and threw the unnecessary article to the side. He placed a chaste kiss to her lips before getting right to what she wanted.

(Y/N) felt like he was setting his skin on fire, everywhere his skin met hers like a flame had been held to it. Remus’ lips trailed from her neck to her shoulders and finally... her breath hitched when he made it to her breasts. Though she didn’t have much time to think about the way his tongue flicked over her nipple, because almost simultaneously he’d pushed her underwear to the side and his fingers brushed against her again. “Fuck...” She hissed.

Remus used his thumb to rub circles across the bundle of nerves and sank another inside of her, and relished the way her hips bucked against his hand. The way she arched herself into him... Remus couldn’t help but imagine how good how much better it would feel to have his cock buried deep inside her rather than his fingers, especially when he felt her clench around his digit. He didn’t know how much more her could handle, so without a second thought when she asked her obliged, he gladly accommodated.

Remus withdrew his hands from her body and unbuttoned his trousers in record time, and in less than a minute his hardened cock was able to spring out of its confines. (Y/N) watched him almost as intently as he’d watched her. She was much too excited to just stare though. She’d thought about this more than she’d care to admit and after already having a taste of what he could do she jumped to her feet in front of him. (Y/N) had been ready to return the favor (plus a little extra), but even though the idea sounded heavenly Remus just didn’t have the patience.

Given her stature it wasn’t a hard task to turn her around and bend her over the table. Once she’d been fully laid across the table, only the tips of her toes touched the floor. It left her feeling rather small and like she was completely at his mercy, but the vulnerability just seemed to heighten her senses. She let out a low sigh of anticipation when she felt him line himself up with her entrance.

Remus felt a flash of reluctancy... this young woman had seen parts of him that people hadn’t in quite a long time. He didn’t think he could possibly pull himself away from her at this point, but should he try? He didn’t think, no he knew he couldn’t give her what she deserved outside. Her impatience put an end to his internal sabotaging, “Remus, I’m not sure how much longer I can wait.”

His response she quite enjoyed. A moan left both of their mouths as he entered her. She felt her insides stretching to accommodate the most pleasant of intrusions. Then he pulled out almost completely before thrusting back in earning a cry of approval from the woman beneath him. (Y/N)’s imagination couldn’t compare to the real thing and she hoped she would be able to remember every detail on his hands digging into her hips holding her still and the drag of his cock as he pulled out, or how amazingly full she felt when he slammed back in hitting spots she hadn’t been truly aware of herself.

Remus’ name fell from her lips like a prayer, a praise, a chant and he couldn’t think of a single thing he enjoyed hearing more in that moment. His rhythm was starting to suffer, but he was hanging on her dear life. As soon as he felt her body spasming around him, he let go. Emptying himself inside of her and feeling a joyous release of pleasure and pressure that had been building inside of him.

Remus stayed still for a moment before summoning the strength to pull out. His breath was labored and (Y/N) was also trying to catch her breath. “I think I might need just a moment before that hike back.”

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#harry potter imagine #fanfics #harry potter marauders #fanfiction #imagines #harry potter smut #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin smut

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lewdbabies · 3 years

Text

Part 2

~my pet~ Sukunaxreader smut

Dom sukuna

warning: 18+ MDNI, raw sex, breeding, degradation, praise kink, choking, BDSM

part 3 posted on my page enjoy 🥵

“I refuse to wear such a thing” You huff.

The small elderly woman stares up at you with tired eyes pleadingly.

“Please mistress My lord has ordered me to make sure you wear this robe specifically” you look down at the slinky red floral robe with dread. This seemed highly inappropriate you ball your fist crushing the material in your hands. You nod slipping your arms into the silk sleeves. The servant woman walks circles around your body tucking and tying as she goes. You can barely breath as she pulls tighter around your waistline creating a hour glass shape and hoisting your breast up. Just yesterday he was breathing down your neck about you being a threat and now he is forcing you to dine with him. Your eyes roll at the very thought of him, the servant woman ties a final bow on your robe before slipping a gem Incrusted hair clip into your wild mane. You turn to the mirror and there you stood glistening with beauty from head to toe. The light makeup complemented your natural features making them stand out, the red tight fitting robe accentuated your curves, the long red silk fell in a pool around your feet while leaving a gapping slit to see your legs beneath, your breast sat perched struggling against the fabric,You nearly didn’t recognize yourself.

The woman runs a delightful oil on your skin engulfing you in the scent of wild flowers and lavender. She nods motioning for you to follow her down the hall. This is the first time you’d been anywhere in the temple apart from the room you were held in. Each footstep bounced off the large walls and pillars, The ceiling was an artistic vision of heaven, paintings of tales you’d only hear in religion,Angels, beast, and Demons.

You play with a loose string on your gown nervously, keeping your focus away from your awaiting fate.

“My lord” The woman bows her head.

“ You may go” she turns immediately swiftly walking down the long corridor.

You are alone now, the only thing separating you is a grand dining table which Sukuna sits at the head of.

“Sit” he swirls the wine in his glass watching you intently.

He takes a sip never taking his eyes off you as you slide hesitantly into your seat. His bottom lip is stained a bright red he licks the remnants his stare glued on you. Your legs cross tightly in a attempt to calm the throbbing in your clit.

‘I want a taste’ you think to yourself before you realize what you’re doing. The thought was intrusive a pure surprise, you begin to eat in silence.

“You look Delicious “

“Excuse me?”

He smirks “ I asked if the food is delicious...” Your eyebrows wrinkle in suspicion.

“ the food is delicious thank you” you bow your head.

Glancing up you’re met with his piercing gaze you begin to squirm.

After a while of nervous eating and silent tension Sukuna speaks finally.

“ Would you like dessert as my guest I’ve ordered the kitchen to prepare an array of sweets for you “ what could you say you had a sweet tooth.

“That sounds...lovely” you say cautiously afraid to turn down any of his Generous gestures. He stands walking slowly like a predator sneaking up on its prey, you feel so small under his gaze, so fragile compared to his power. He reaches a giant hand out to you, you place your small hand in his rising from your seat. He walks you down the hall holding your hand firmly. You struggle to keep up with his pace being that your legs were extremely short in comparison to his.

He leads you to a luxurious room covered in satin and Golden treasures. He leads you to the edge of the bed.

“Rest your feet, my pet” he coos staring hungrily at your exposed chest.

You sit on the soft bed crossing one leg over the other exposing your thighs. He rolls a cart in front of you a silver platter covered by a sterling top sat before you. Sukuna reveals what is inside, a platter of ingredients?

Strawberry’s,black berries , fresh cream, sugar cane, cherries, And molten cocoa. It looked mouth watering you begin to salivate.

Sukuna picks up a bright red strawberry dipping it slowly into the cocoa maintaining eye contact, your body trembles as he approaches you. His free hand slides behind your neck his thumb massaging the soft skin as he traces your lips with chocolate. You’re going insane blood rushing through your veins as the sweet taste invades your tongue. He pushes the berry between your lips gently urging you to bite into its sweetness. Red juices run down your lips as you bite down savoring the taste invading your senses. Sukuna’s eyes light up his grip on your neck firming, he leans down trailing his tongue along your chin lapping up the spilled juices.

His tongue is long almost serpent like it swirls across your lip leaving a warm tingling in its wake. You moan softly leaning into him, he responds by crashing his lips to yours in a fervent greedy heat. It was senseless you didn’t know him at all and yet your body ached for his touch.

Your hips swirled as you tangled your hands in his blazing red hair pulling him closer. He grunts slipping his Eager tongue between your lips, he leans forward placing his knee between your legs you lay back pulling him slightly on top of you. Your gown is bunched up around your waist your breast barely contained, he’s hovering over you panting quietly. He pushes his knee deeper into your core spreading your legs further apart, the pressure against your clit causes you to whimper. He smiles devilishly down at you soaking in your lust drunken face, he can feel you throbbing against him making his cock twitch in excitement. He captures your lips again, grinding his knee gently into your pleading slit. You’re soaking wet and gasping between kisses He is intoxicating, all reason and logic were gone there was one thing you wanted no, needed in this moment. Your hands reach down blindly, your finger tips graze the tented material of his robe his length twitches in response. He groans pulling away from your lips only to attack your breast with his mouth. He rips the fabric from your chest with ease exposing your yearning hard buds, he waste no time suckling your sensitive spot . Your back arches, your hands pull him closer playing in his hair.

“Please ...”

“ please what, use your words like a big girl “

“Ah, fuck, I-I can’t “ your words are choppy almost in coherent

“Yes you can Doll ,cmon tell me what you want “ he moans.

“Touch...me...more Ah ah”

“ Ask nicely or I might just have to punish you” he nibbles lightly on your aching nipples.

“P-Please touch me My lord” you cry out eyes rolling back.

“Good Girl” he growls fingers pushing past your thighs in search of your wet entrance, he slides his middle digit along the length of your slit brushing lightly over your throbbing nub.

“Oh my god Ah-!” You we’re losing your mind, you’d touched yourself there many times before, waking up late nights to play with yourself in secret but this...this was different it was a pressure that resided deeper than you’d ever experienced, Like a volcano waiting to erupt.

Your hands impatiently work to try and free his Hard member but he pulls away from you suddenly leaving you laying there a heaving mess.

“Did I say you can touch me “ he growls in your ear you wither beneath him.

He grabs a piece of torn fabric grabbing your hands and pinning them above your head. He wraps the satin tightly around your wrists rendering you helpless,You’re at his mercy.

He trails kisses all the way down your body, kissing every stretch mark and scar in sight. You’re quivering and bucking your hips impatiently, he reaches your thighs pushing them up digging your knees lightly into your chest. You’re folded in half your wetness completely exposed to him, he blows lightly on your hot swollen labia causing you to squirm and clench your insides. He chuckles at your excitement soaking in the sight of you.

“Mmmm such a pretty little pussy” he spreads your lips apart running his tongue over your pearl. He waste no time devouring your satin folds, he sucks desperately on your clit slipping in two fingers stretching you so much you almost cum right then and there. He pumps into you filling your walls with pleasure, you clamp down on him as you grind into his tongue. It’s too much to take you’re about to explode , he pumps faster your juices flowing down his fingers he moans into your pussy vibrating your entire soul, it was enough to send you over the edge. Your ass arches off the bed as you reach your mind numbing climax sukuna finger fucks you harder riding out your orgasm with you. Your juices sprayed soaking his lips and the sheets beneath you, he smiles licking up the mess you made.

He slides up shoving his tongue in your mouth so you can taste yourself.

“Mmm desserts is always better than the main course” he kisses your forehead before standing up pulling you into his arms. He picks you up bridal style and begins walking down the corridor despite your obvious displeasure and silent protest. How dare he make you cum like that and send you off to bed!

He lays you in your bed pulling the covers up to your neck. He kisses your lips as he unties the makeshift handcuffs with your hands free you reach up pulling him closer desperate for more. He humors you grabbing your throat and pulling you deeper into the kiss.

“Uhn fuck-“ he moans grabbing your exposed breast rolling the bud between his fingers.

You attempt to pull him on top of you... he pulls away.

“ Such an impatient Girl, It is time to rest” he kisses you one last time before walking away leaving you stunned and angry by his strange behavior.

‘ why won’t you fuck me?!’

#sukunaxreader #sukuna #sukuna smut #jjk smut #jjk fanfic #smut #sukuna fluff #jjk fluff #jjk x reader

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a-solitary-marshmallow · 3 years

Text

Rewind Chapter 5 - Finding Stan

Ford’s hands were shaking as he dialed. He clutched at the phone, whispering “Come on, come on!” with every ring.

Finally, on the sixth ring, there was a click. “Stanford?”

“Is Stanley with you?” Ford rushed out. There was a hesitation from the other side of the line.

“I… no, Stanley’s not-” Fiddleford’s voice turned shrill. “Ford, ya lost yer brother???”

“No! I, well. Yes? I don’t know, Fiddleford, he was here when I went down to the basement but now he’s gone and I’ve searched the whole house, he’s not here!”

“How long were you gone for?” Fiddleford demanded.

“Only a few hours.”

“A few-” Fiddleford spluttered. “Ya shoulda just had me stay if you were gonna leave ‘im alone again!”

“I didn’t mean to leave him for so long, I lost track of time! F, please.”

Fiddleford groaned. “Alright, alright. Here’s what we’re gonna do. You’re gonna start searchin’ the woods around your house. I’m gonna ask around town, see if ‘e came down here. And we’ll call when one of us finds ‘im. Alright?”

“Yes. Yes, thank you.” Ford stammered.

Fiddleford hung up with a click, leaving Ford alone. Ford made it outside before realizing he wasn’t wearing a jacket and it was freezing outside, he needed to get his jacket – and something for Stan too. Had Stan taken a jacket? No, of course not, Ford didn’t have one that would fit him which meant the child was alone and underdressed in the snow and even if nothing else happened to him he could still freeze to death. How could Ford have left him alone?

“Hey Ford, look what I got!”

“Not now, Stanley.” Ford waved his hand dismissively at the approaching child, unwilling to be pulled away from his panic as he paced on the front porch. There was no time to be distracted, not while his brother was in danger–

Wait.

“STANLEY!”

Stan let out a little yelp as Ford grabbed him, snatching his brother tight against him. Stan had come from the forest, judging by the trail of footprints leading from the tree line. He was shivering in Ford’s arms. Ford barged through the door and slammed it shut behind him, placing his brother on the living room carpet to inspect him.

“Geez, Ford! I’m fine!” Stan whined. A jacket far too big for him was bunched up around him and his feet were shoved into a pair of Ford’s boots (resourceful, a part of Ford noted) but he was still snow-dusted and shivering.

“Where were you? Do you have any idea how worried I was?” Ford demanded. “What were you doing out there?”

Stan laughed, showing a mouth with less teeth than there used to be. “I got fairy dust from a gnome! ‘Course, then the other unicorns saw me and I had to skedaddle, but I got the hair!” He brandished it in one fist triumphantly.

“Other unicorns – but – she said she was the last –” Ford shook his head quickly to clear it. “Never mind. Are you hurt?” Ford pulled his brother closer to inspect him, Stan wriggling and whining as he did so. His face and arms were all scratched up and his lower lip was swollen, a trickle of dried blood down his chin from when a tooth must have been knocked out. His jaw was beginning to darken in a nasty-looking bruise. “Stanley, what happened?”

“I toldja! One of the unicorns got me in the face but I got outta there quick. You were right Ford, unicorns are jerks. I take back everything I said about liking ‘em. And now you’ve got the hair you can do your spell thing, right?”

For the first time Ford comprehended the clump of shimmering rainbow hair in his brother’s tiny fist. “You… you got the hair?”

Stan nodded happily. “Yeah! You said you needed it and that unicorns are mean, and your book said how to find them. So I got it for you.” He held it out with a huge gap-toothed grin. Ford could do nothing but stare.

Slowly Stan’s grin crept away, one arm wrapping around himself self-consciously.

“Ford? Did – did I do something wrong?”

All at once life returned to Ford’s limbs and he forced himself into action, offering a small smile and carefully prying the unicorn hair from Stan’s fist. “No, Stanley. Well – you should have told me where you were going. In fact, you shouldn’t have gone out alone at all.” Stan shrunk a little. “But this is very helpful, so overall I would say you did rather well. Provided we don’t make this a repeat performance.”

“…so I’m not in trouble?”

“No, you’re not in trouble.” Ford didn’t even know what that would look like. Stan wasn’t in his right mind – Ford had to be extremely gentle with him right now. He had no idea what disciplinary measures would do to the wobbly balance they had struck.

And anyway, he was too elated to be angry for long. They had the hair, which meant Ford could protect his house from Bill and finally get some much-needed sleep. Once he was rested he would be able to come up with a game plan to defeat the one-eyed menace once and for all.

Ford straightened up, dusting the last few snowflakes from his brother’s hair. “I have a barrier to set up. Now, where did I put those moonstones?” A stray thought hit him. “Oh yes, I should call Fiddleford and let him know that you’re safe. He… will not be pleased with me.”

“Fidds is here?” Stan perked up.

“No, not here. I’ll call him in a moment, once we construct this barrier. Would you like to help me?”

“Sure!” Stan beamed at him again. Ford took a moment to study his brother’s rudimentary snow protection (boots and a jacket too big for him, evidently fished out of Ford’s closet, with sleeves rolled up to half length and still dropping down over his hands, and huge boots threatening to slip off with every step). Stan was lucky the ensemble held up during his escapade into unicorn territory. Those horns were sharp – who knew what the unicorns could have done if Stanley had stuck around?

But Stan had done it for a reason, and that reason was currently clutched in Ford’s hand. He shook his head quickly to clear it and hurried to collect the other ingredients he would need. Once the ingredients were assembled Ford grabbed the glue and rushed out to set up the barrier, Stan hot on his heels.

“See, we need to glue the hair down here – like so – to form a ring around the house. This way Bill cannot enter.”

“Mmkay.” Stan peered around him to watch as Ford began pasting down the unicorn hairs. “Uh, who’s Bill?”

Dang it. Ford sighed. Well, he would have to tell Stanley at some point, it may as well be now… “He’s – a very dangerous person, Stan. This barrier is going to protect us from him. He won’t be able to cross it.”

Stan frowned down at the fine line of rainbow hairs. “…are ya sure about that? Seems pretty easy to get past to me.”

“I’m very sure. Bill isn’t human, like you and I. He’s a demon. A dream demon, to be precise.”

“Oh! Is he that guy with yellow eyes you were talkin’ about? The one I’m not supposed to make deals with?”

Ford shifted to the next spot, talking as he worked. “Yes, exactly. Bill is a very powerful entity who claims to be a benevolent muse, but anything he says he will give you is a lie. Do you know those stories Ma used to tell us, the ones where people would make deals with the devil and they’d get everything they asked for, but in some twisted, sick way?” Stan nodded. “That’s Bill.”

“…oh. Okay.”

Ford worked in silence for quite some time before his brother spoke up again.

“Hey, Ford?”

“Yes Stanley?” Ford didn’t look up from gluing down the unicorn hair.

“We don’t go sailing, do we?”

Ford very nearly froze. As it was, he continued to construct the barrier as his mind raced to come up with an appropriate answer.

He doubted that Stan would accept a lie and be placated – Ford was a terrible liar and Stan always seemed to know when he wasn’t being honest. He’d have to tell the truth. He could only hope that his brother wouldn’t throw a fit at having his childish dream denied.

“…no. We don’t go sailing.” Ford said carefully.

“Oh.” Stan paused. “Does the Stan O’ War get out of Jersey at least?”

“No. It was too small, anyway; by the time we grew large enough to sail it was far too small to support us in the open ocean.”

“You are pretty big.” With that Stan nodded thoughtfully and went back to watching Ford construct the barrier. Ford waited for more questions, but… that was it? He’d expected a larger reaction.

Ford cleared his throat. “Forgive me, Stanley, but at this age…” In reality it was at any age but Stan didn’t need to know that, “I thought you would be more upset.” Stan sent him an odd look, and Ford elaborated. “The two of us sailing away on a boat has always been your dream.”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Well, duh, but it’s not about the boat.”

Ford blinked. “It’s… not?”

“No! C’mon ya dummy, treasure’s cool and all, but I just wanna do something with you!” Stan grinned and punched him lightly. “It’s okay that we don’t go sailing because we get to do this! Whatever ‘this’ is.” He shrugged. “Monster hunting…? Monster-science-people. Science – tology? Scientology?”

Ford clapped a hand over his brother’s mouth. “Nope, nope, that’s already a thing and we do not speak of it. Try again.”

Stan giggled and shoved his hand away. “Ugh, you know what I mean! This thing!” He waved wildly at the woods around them. “Stuff with unicorns and cool creepy labs and – whatever that thing is.” He pointed to a gnome waddling out of the underbrush. “Holy – Sixer, what is that? Is that one of those gnomes from your book?”

“Yes it is. They’re relatively harmless so long as you don’t interfere with their queen or try to steal their hats. They’re rather sensitive about the hats.”

With Stan occupied with the gnomes, Ford was able to quickly finish setting up the barrier. As the final piece fell into place an iridescent sheen flickered across the house, a smattering of symbols glowing across the shimmering barrier before it faded into the air from whence it came. Ford let out a shaky breath of relief.

“There. Bill won’t be able to reach us inside.”

Stan clomped up to him in too-big boots, a couple brown beard hairs clutched in his fist. “Hey Sixer, does gnome hair work too?”

“No. Now come inside and wash your hands, you don’t know where that’s been.” Ford placed a hand on his brother’s back to hurry him along but the screeching of brakes made him tense. It was only when he recognised Fiddleford’s beaten-up buggy zooming into view that he allowed himself to relax. Though… Fiddleford was travelling quite fast for his regular, cautious style of driving. The buggy pulled up sharply and a disheveled-looking Fiddleford clambered out, red in the face.

“Fidds!” Stan called out happily. Fiddleford stomped over and Ford began to feel like a zebra watching a fast-approaching lion. He… probably should have called earlier to let his friend know that Stanley was safe.

Fiddleford let out a gasp when he noticed the child’s bruised face. “My word – Stanley, are ya alright? Ya look like ya went head-to-head with a feral cat!”

Stan beamed up at the man, who seemed to flinch when he noticed the missing tooth. “I’m fine, you should see the other guy!”

“…I’m sure he’s hurtin’.” Fiddleford sent Ford a glare, which – yeah, he probably deserved. Ford coughed awkwardly.

“Yes. I apologize for not calling you earlier. I had to set up the barrier as soon as possible…” He rubbed the back of his neck at the dry stare he received. “And I’m sorry for waking you up. No one is hurt, so you can go back home-”

“I’m not leavin’ you two alone again!” Fiddleford scolded. “Not if yer just gonna get into more trouble. No, I’m stayin’ right here until this age debacle is over, understood?”

“…Understood.” Ford echoed. “But – can we at least go inside first, where it’s safe?”

Fiddleford nodded and then turned to Stan, who had taken a nervous step back at the tension in the air. He relaxed slightly at the kind, if somewhat brittle, smile Fiddleford sent his way.

“Let’s get out of the cold, shall we?”

_______________________________________________________________

Sleep had been a luxury Ford had not been able to afford for weeks. Luckily, that meant that as soon as he relaxed and his head hit the pillow, he was out like a light. By the time he awoke the clock by his bed read eight-twenty in the evening and his window was dark.

Ford stretched, yawning hard as his mind slowly surfaced from thick, dreamless slumber. For a moment panic struck him and he sat bolt-upright in bed – before the memories of that morning trickled through and he remembered the barrier.

We’re safe. Bill can’t get to me. Stan and Fiddleford and I are safe.

Speaking of the others, there was clattering going on across the house that sounded promisingly like pots and pans being moved. Ford’s stomach grumbled at him.

The sleep must have done him some good at least because at least his head wasn’t complaining anymore – his constant headache was all but gone. Even better, his mind no longer felt fuzzy and vague. In fact he could probably recite the digits of pi right now without getting dizzy! Ford did so in his mind as he made his way to the kitchen.

Fiddleford looked up from stirring a pot of soup as Ford approached. “Ah, Stanford. Come on and get some dinner, yer right on time. Stanley here was just tellin’ me about the unicorns.”

On a chair at the kitchen table, Stanley seemed to be in the middle of a dramatic reenactment, which – for some reason – involved a butterfly net, the saltshaker, and a too-big Hawaiian shirt.

“-so the gnome police have this thing about butterflies, right? Hi Ford! Okay, so this Smell-ulock guy let me borrow his net if I caught his escaped squirrel, and that took forever but I got the net – I gotta give that back to him at some point – and man Fidds, butterflies are hard to catch!”

Ford settled down at the table with a bowl of soup, letting the chatter wash over him. The rich, savoury scent made his mouth water. Before he realized it he’d already bolted half of it down, mouth and throat burning slightly from the scalding temperature. Fiddleford ‘tsk’ed.

“Didja sleep alright?” The other man asked once Ford paused to take a breath.

“Quite well, thank you. Having the barrier up is a welcome relief.”

“That barrier means the triangle guy can’t mess with our heads anymore, right?” Stan sat down in his chair with a plop, dropping his assorted props on the table. Ford nodded in affirmation.

“Right.”

“So what does unicorn hair have against demons anyway?” Stan asked curiously. Ford swallowed his last spoonful of soup and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before speaking.

“It acts as a protective force against evil and those with ill-intent.”

“So, if I went to punch someone but they had a bunch a’ unicorn hair, it would stop me?”

“Erm – not quite. It can help to ward against demons, though.” Stan opened his mouth to ask another question but Ford beat him to it with the answer. “It seems to have a kind of purpose and sentience, to be able to target demons and mind-invaders specifically, but I haven’t been able to study it before now so I haven’t the foggiest idea how or why.”

“But it hurts demons, right? Like Bill!” Stan jumped up on his chair again and flung a punch at some imaginary foe. “Can’t you just use your smarts to make a giant unicorn-hair-laser-gun-missile-launcher thing? And then we’ll blow ‘im right outta the sky!”

Ford snorted at his brother’s exuberance. “If only it were that simple. Unicorn hair isn’t the only ingredient in the barrier spell; there’s moonstone and mercury as well, and anyway, the whole thing merely acts as a shield. It might be able to do some damage to Cipher if I alter the formula and substitute… hmm, foxglove?” Yes, that could theoretically work, especially if he combined spells. “But there’s no way to deliver the final product to him, he’s too slippery. We’d need to manufacture some kind of… gun…”

Ford stopped.

“…actually, that might work.”

#writing #my writing #my fic #chapter 5 #gravity falls #rewind #the stans

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