#he may be small and quiet and seem shy now but believe me when i tell you he’s gonna grow into himself | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sasusakucoded · 7 months

Text

Smol Announcement: From now on, sasusakucoded's Sunday is sasusaku au day. Yay!

Thanks to everyone who encouraged me to write more AUs and fanfics. 🙇‍♀️

---

Sakura can't believe how she ended up in this situation— marrying a stranger just because of family ties. In the village, her family is renowned. The Harunos lead the food and fashion industries and Sakura's father is considered as an influential person close to the Hokage.

Her soon-to-be-husband-in-a-few-hours is from the Uchiha clan. They are a humble clan that resides in the remote part of the village.

It's her first time seeing the guy. He looks handsome and quiet but the idea that she has to marry him because of a silly deal between her and his great great grandfathers irks her. Their great great grandfathers were comrades in the last shinobi war. They promised each other to marry off their children to merge their families. The problem is both of them had only one child and both are males. This repeated for several generations until a female was born in the Haruno side.

"You may now kiss the bride."

And just like that, Sakura and Sasuke are married.

---

As soon as they reach their new home, Sakura takes out a two-pager from her bag and gives it to Sasuke. "This is our contract."

Sasuke is confused. He thinks it is their marriage contract from the church. He starts reading it and realizes it's a totally different one.

"Let me get this straight. Only my grandfather wants us to get married. My father just agreed because of the stupid pact. As soon as Grandpa is gone, we'll get a divorce."

This shocks Sasuke. Even if he doesn't like the idea of marrying someone he just met, he has made up his mind that this woman is his wife and he has to take care of her.

Sakura is waiting for his reply. It seems that he can't process her plans. She reiterates, "so we just have to wait."

He nods and reads the contract again. The last line says, "do not fall in love with me."

"If you agree, please sign both pages and keep one as your copy."

He signs it immediately and gives the paper back to her.

"Great." She points at the door, "that will be our bedroom. We should still stay in one room in case they visit us. And oh, the contract is between the two of us only. Don't tell anyone."

"Got it," Sasuke says while following her to the room.

---

The following days are tiring. They have to attend family functions that Sakura's grandfather and Sasuke's parents have prepared.

Sasuke is shy around the Haruno's acquaintances. He stays in one corner and watches them from there. Sakura is quick to find him, reminding him that it's part of their duties as a couple to mingle with others. She takes his hand and introduces him to their friends. Slowly, Sasuke gets the hang of it and enjoys learning new things about Sakura through conversations.

In the Uchiha's abode, things are different. They have a more intimate event. All of Sasuke's favorites have been prepared. Sakura is hesitant to eat crabs and lobsters and Sasuke notices. Apparently, she doesn't know how to open them so Sasuke gladly takes a few and cracks them for her. This makes Sakura happy because she feels special and she appreciates the food more because he helps her.

---

Weeks have passed and Sasuke starts to get more fond of his wife. He learns that she likes designing clothes but her passion is to paint. He likes it when she tells him about the painting techniques she use. He's interested of whatever topic she wants to talk about.

Sakura, on the other hand, finds Sasuke nice and kind. She specially likes it when he prepapres food for her or when he does small things even if she doesn't ask him to do them. He's still too quiet for her though. He only talks when she asks him questions.

They call each other "love" to make their marriage more believable in the eyes of others.

Sakura taps Sasuke's shoulder and gives him a new phone. "Use that. Your current one's cracked screen is an eyesore."

"Thanks, but I can't accept—"

"Just take it," she turns her back and leaves. "I'll be at the gallery until later. Bye!"

---

Sakura is preparing for her art exhibit so she spends more time at her gallery. Sasuke decides to drop by and bring her dinner.

He goes in and sees Sakura talking to someone. It is her father.

"—but really? You're going to give me the most basic man and think that I won't file for a divorce sooner or later?! It's so stupid, Dad! I thought you'll agree with me on this!"

"Hey Sasuke, why are you here? Let's go inside!" says Ino, Sakura's bestfriend.

Sakura and her father look at the door simultaneously and see them.

"I– I just dropped by to bring you food." He puts it on the table while looking down. He greets his father-in-law and nods at Sakura before leaving.

"Hey, you're leaving already?" Ino asked.

He just nods and walks towards the train station.

When he thought they're getting closer, it hits him that everything is part of a ploy. They have a contract to follow and he must not misunderstand things.

"Go home now and say sorry to him," Kizashi says in his stern voice.

"Why would I? What I said.. That's the truth.."

Sakura's father leaves knowing that he can't do anything with her daughter's ego. Ino doesn't dare ask questions. She just tells her that she needs to go too.

Sakura continues her painting, constantly making errors here and there. "Did he hear everything? What does he think of me now? Is he hurt? He must be.. Most basic man.. Why did I even say that? Where did I get that term? He's definitely not basic. He's simple, sure, but far from basic. So why did I say that? Well.. Who cares. This marriage is just a phase.. We'll part ways soon enough.. I couldn't care less of what he feels."

She opens the food bag and sees the note.

Don't forget to eat, Picassokura!

She smiles at how silly it is. She also realizes that she hasn't eaten since afternoon. She opens the bento box and sees that it has some of her favorites. She wants to eat it so bad but her guilt is preventing her.

With no progress, she decides to get food from the vending machine instead. "This is what I deserve," she says while taking her first bite.

She enters the house and sees Sasuke in the kitchen. He greets her and immediately sees the food bag.

"Sakura, I'll take care of that," he says while taking the bag from her.

She's hesitant. The least thing she wants to happen is for him to think that she didn't like the food that he prepared. "No, it's fine!"

Too late. He has the bag and is aware that it's still full. He nods and goes back to the kitchen.

She goes to their bedroom and takes a shower. "You're so stupid, Sakura!! That will hurt him further!!"

She's waiting for him to come into their bedroom but he's still in the kitchen. It's been hours since Sakura arrived, so she goes there to talk to him.

"Hey.. I'm sorry," she starts. "I– I said those words because I was really pissed. I told Dad about the contract and hedidn't agree with me at first.. That's why.."

"It's okay.. What you said is true.. A basic man like me doesn't deserve someone like you.."

"No– I didn't mean–"

"It's okay. It's good that you were upfront."

"But I offended you.. I swear I didn't mean to say those words.."

"Maybe I was offended.. But it's no big deal. That's the truth, I can't do anything about it."

"I want to make it up to you. Tell me anything you want!"

"Paint me," he laughs.

His laughter makes her a little relieved. She agrees to paint him and both of them go to bed.

---

Because of that incident, Sasuke starts to distance himself from Sakura. After all, there's no reason for them to be closer with each other now.

Sakura's days are per usual— she goes to her gallery and paints the promised portrait. It's a surprise to her that she can actually paint him without a reference. She thinks of his face when they eat together, or when he sleeps, or when he's doing some chores.

She calls Ino to look at the painting. "It's done, finally!"

"Wow! Sasuke must be really pleased! Looks like he's from one of those period dramas.. What's the title?"

"I don't have a title yet, to be honest. Do you think he'll like it?"

"I'm sure he will!"

For some reason, Sakura keeps on looking at the door and checking her phone, as if anticipating someone's arrival or message. Ino has noticed this and asks her, "expecting someone?"

"No.. Why?"

"You keep on glancing at the door.. Also, I haven't seen Sasuke these days. Did you tell him not to go here?"

"No, I didn't." It occurs to her just now that Sasuke doesn't visit her anymore. Not even once since she started painting his portrait.

This thought remains in her mind for the rest of the day. Now, she can only think of the things he stopped doing ever since that incident at the gallery happened.

"What do you mean he stopped doing things?"

Aside from her dad, only Ino knows about their situation and plans. She's open with her and trusts her very much.

"He doesn't text me anymore. Before, he sends me multiple texts a day, asking if I've eaten. He doesn't eat dinner with me too. He still prepares the food but it's either he eats later than me or he doesn't eat at all. He also stopped calling me 'love' when we're alone. He only calls me that when we're outside."

"What's the problem? Isn't that what you want?"

"Yeah.. But abrupt change is confusing.."

"Your contract is rather confusing! You say you don't care about him and he shouldn't care about you.. But you keep on doing things for him."

"Ino–"

"You had his parents' distillery up and running. You bought new equipment for his football club. You paid for his clan's mortgage–"

"It's not like I paid much money for that–"

"That's not the point, Sakura. You're doing all these wifey things for him in secret and you're telling yourself that he deserves them because he's nice."

"But.. He's really nice–"

"Yeah! Your driver is also nice. Would you do the same thing?"

"Ino, that's different!"

"And now you're bothered because he stopped doing the little husband things he's been doing."

"I'm not bothered! I'm just.. Confused.."

"Sakura, it's not like your contract is something concrete. You can always terminate your self-made contract, you know. I don't know if you're aware but you talk about him almost 24/7."

"I don't! I just talk about him because he's my current subject!"

"Yeah right! 'Sasuke's football skills is top-tier! Sasuke's hair should be the standard for men's hairstyle! Sasuke did this, Sasuke did that!' Sakura, please. Don't kid yourself."

"But.."

"I haven't seen you paint so passionately before. So, there's really something different. Think about it."

Sakura overthinks about it indeed. She never cared about any guy before. This feeling is new to her, so she's not sure if she just misses his presence or if she's really in love with him. Regardless, she's excited to go home to tell him about the painting.

She's about to close the gallery when she sees a familiar car outside. It's her grandfather. It also seems that he's with her dad.

"Dad? Grandpa? What are you doing here?"

"I am sorry. You shouldn't be burdened by the pact, Sakura," her grandfather says as he enters the gallery.

"What do you mean?" she asks, looking back and forth between her grandfather and dad.

Her grandfather sees the painting. "For someone who doesn't care about someone, you sure did put effort on painting this.. Well, Sakura. You don't need to anymore. You don't need to pretend."

"Grandpa?"

"Sasuke paid a visit this afternoon. He told me everything. You can cancel that contract or whatever deal you have with him. You can file for a divorce freely."

"He went and told you?"

Her grandfather inspects the painting closer. "He said you don't deserve to be punished like this. He'll take the blame if people will ask. He said you shouldn't be trapped because of a deal that happened way before your birth. He's right. I'm sorry, it's my fault. I really just wanted to fulfill my grandfather's wish."

Sakura doesn't know how to react. She wants to say many things but words are not coming out of her mouth.

"Starting tonight, that contract is void. You can live in peace. I'll make sure of that."

"Grandpa.. So.. Does he hate me? He didn't say anything to me.." she asks, almost sobbing.

"No, not at all. He said he loves you, so he knows he has to let you go."

"He said he loves me? He never told me!"

"Because it's part of the contract right? It's funny because it seems that he has memorized every line of those rules–"

"Wait, is he at home?"

"Yes, he said he'll pack his things asap so it's easier for you–"

"I must go. Dad, please close the gallery for me!" She gives him the keys and runs towards her car.

"Hey, don't drive fast!!" Kizashi reminds her.

---

She's panting when she arrives. He's there, ready to leave. He's waiting for her to say goodbye properly.

"Sakura–"

"So, that's it? That's the reason you're not calling me 'love' anymore? That's the reason you stopped doing things you used to do for me? You want to rescind the contract–" She can't continue her statement and starts crying while holding onto him.

"Sakura.. This is what you've always wanted, right?"

"Is it true? You love me?"

"It doesn't matter.."

"Is it true?!" Sakura repeats her question louder.

"It's true! I love you! It hurts that you'll never love me back but it hurts me more to see you miserable with me! I'd rather let you go than see you hating your life because of that stupid pact."

"Who said I was miserable? Because of that one incident? Sasuke, you don't understand. I've never been this happy before.."

"You were happy.. with me?"

"I was in denial because it would hurt my ego. I made that contract.. I made the rules.. Then I'll be the one to break them? I kept on telling myself you're just nice.. You're kind and cool.. That's why I like you. But it's deeper than that, Sasuke. I love you. I know it took me so long to realize.. But I can't see myself living here or anywhere else without you by my side."

Sasuke can't believe what he's hearing. This can't be real. He can't process that the woman who despises the idea of getting married to him is now in love with him.

"Sakura. Are you sure? It's your chance to be free again."

"Did you know, I've finished your portrait today. I was so happy. I was pleased with the result.. Before I left the gallery, I put the title on it thinking I'll surprise and show you tomorrow." Sakura takes his hand. "You know what, come! Let's go there now."

Sakura calls her dad to go back and open the gallery for her. He complies and even her grandfather is intrigued.

When Sasuke and Sakura arrive, it's already open. It's obvious that Sakura cried on their way and her father can't help but worry.

"This.. This is beautiful, Sakura. Thank you.." Sasuke says while looking at its entirety.

"There's the title," Sakura points at a small card at the bottom of the painting.

"Love of the Artist's Life.. Sakura?"

"If that's still not enough for you to believe that I love you–"

Sasuke pulls her for a hug. "I'm sorry. I should've told you. You don't have to prove anything, Sakura. Just tell me I'm allowed to love you and I will. With all my heart."

Sakura takes the contract from her bag and torns it into pieces. "Null and void! Sasuke, please love me with all your heart and I promise you that my heart is yours and yours alone."

"I think we can leave now, Kizashi. So, nothing changes right? You guys are still married. Our ancestors are pleased with the fulfilled pact.. Everybody happy. Good." Sakura's grandfather laughs. "Sasuke, you take care of her. That's my only wish."

"I will, sir. That's a promise."

Kizashi leaves with his father. "Dad said everything I wanted to say. Take care, Sakura, Sasuke. We're leaving."

Sasuke is still staring at the painting. "It's really detailed, love.."

"You don't know how much I missed you calling me that."

Sasuke kisses her and says, "let's go home. I have to unpack and organize everything again."

They shared a laugh. "Don't worry, your wife is going to help you."

"You mean the love of my life."

"Hey, that's my title for you! Pick another one!"

#sasusaku #sasusaku fanfic #sasusaku au #uchihas #sscoded no 225

31 notes · View notes

leavingsunsets · 1 day

Note

I heard you wanted a request?

So i will request!

Could you write some fluff for ryusui from dr stone please?

Could you please write about ryusui trying to catch an oblivious crush attention?

Thank you!

Yes! Omg I got a request 🥺🥺🥺. I should re edit my acc to be open kehehe. Anyways, since there's no specified gender, it's an automatic gender neutral, okay?

"ᴅᴇꜱɪʀᴇᴅ, ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟʟʏ."

(GN! reader x Ryusui Nanami)

Extravagant, bold. Two definitive terms that quite describe the heir of the Nanami conglomerate. He wasn't Ryusui without that, was he?

He does not shy away from stating what he wants, nor does he wither from encouraging anyone from doing the same. A person who knows himself. Direct, precise.

Yet, he somehow starts to doubt those very same facts the moment when it comes to you.

With how much Ryusui talked about desire more than the average person, it was easy to get used to how he worded his wants and his passionate pursuit of it. In fact, you nearly choked when he yelled out what you thought was a confession.

"I desire you!" was what he said, leaving you to awkwardly stand with your hand out to shake his. Luckily, this misunderstanding was quickly cleared, and your hesitance faded out the more time you've grown used to his presence.

And so, it seemed that same desensitization was like a curse for him.

As you were part of the power team, he always made sure to meet with you at the end of the day. Walking with you from the field back to where the others were.

"[name]! Great work today! Any plans for tonight?"

"Mhm! I have to go help out Kaseki. He asked me and Kohaku to help him out in carrying some woodworks after dinner."

Then, the time where you were both on the ship. As you both stood out on the deck, overlooking the sea.

"You know, [name], this view is even more beautiful, now that the person I desire most, is right here with me."

"Haha! I just saw a turtle!"

It was frustrating, but also gave a thrill, to which he didn't mind playing along with. The pursuit of passion, how far would he go, for this? Finally, one a little bolder, when the perfect opportunity comes as you're both one of the last ones by the dining.

Here, you both sit across from each other. The sound of the sea outside are faint, and gives the perfect ambience to the silence.

Swirling the wine in his glass, he takes a small sip. "When it comes to desire, I believe that there is nothing that should be worth stopping you from obtaining it."

You nod along, just as tipsy. The wine in your glass sways along. "So true, king."

He rests his elbow on the table, leaning on his fist. His other hand holding the wine glass, points at you. "Your ignorance may know no bounds, but so does my desire. And I'll let you know, that I've never denied myself of anything I've truly longed for."

Groggily, you nod. "You said a lot of fancy words, but whatever you say, king."

Ryusui watches you blink in a daze. Yeah. He's no quitter. Downing the rest of his glass, he decides to just go for it.

"[name], I desire your heart. I desire you." he goes quiet after this, staring intently. His expression is unreadable, and you would tell if you weren't still a little tipsy.

"I'm afraid I still need it, sorry." Your eyes get droopy, and you put your glass on the table. "Not... not a registered donor." you mumble.

Ryusui sighs, putting down his own glass. Nevermind. "I think it's best you go to bed now." Grabbing your arm, he throws it over your shoulder, hauling you up. Drowsily, you only nod. "Yessir.."

Luckily, you weren't that far gone, and could walk properly. So, it was no problem getting you to your room. But before he could leave you by the doorway, you suddenly reach out, surprising him.

"Hey, Ryu." you mutter, leaning on the door. He looks at you curiously, listening. "Yes?"

"I like you." you sway your head, a little sleepy. "It's fun every time I'm with you."

Ryusui stills for a moment. You yawn, letting go of him. "Well, g'night, Ryu." is the last thing you say before entering, closing the door behind you.

A beat, and one more, before, a tint of pink dusts his cheeks.

It wasn't much, but it was progress. He went straight to bed after that, eyes curving with a little more mirth that night.

#x reader #dcst fanfic #dr stone fanfic #dr stone x reader #sen writes !#sunset prints !#dr stone #dcst #ryusui nanami #dr stone ryusui #dcst ryusui #nanami ryusui #ryusui x reader #ryusui nanami x reader #IM SORRY ITS A LITTLE SLOPPY

10 notes · View notes

raccoon-eyed-rebel · 10 months

Text

White blossoms - Chapter 1

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

A/N: It took me nearly seven months to write this fic, and I am beyond excited to finally be sharing it! (And a little nervous...) Just a story of two people falling in love when that wasn't necessarily an option... This is written from both their POV's, and I'll try very hard to not F up on the dividers between those two, okay? ❤️

If you like this fic, please remember to reblog so that others may also see it!

Pairing: Melot x OFC (Tamsyn)

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: None. They kiss. Fluff. Shenanigans. Historical inaccuracies, probably.

@deandoesthingstome @keanureevesisbae @fvckinghenrycavill @ellethespaceunicorn @peaches1958 @peyton-warren @summersong69 @mayloma @livisss @geralts-yenn @sillyrabbit81

“Quiet, I hear something.” Your boisterous laughter quieted down to whispers and muffled snickering. You were about to tell your friend off for making a fuss about nothing when you heard it too: laughter and singing.

“Let’s go see who it is,” the same friend suggested to the rest of your party.

“Aedan, perhaps we shouldn’t.” It was one complaint among several more curious reactions.

“You are welcome to return home, if you are so terrified.” Never tell a young man he is afraid if you are not prepared to take a punch to the gut, or so Aedan found out.

Your small group set foot in the direction of the sounds - they appeared to come from near the stream. It was not long before you saw them; local girls, sitting by the edge of the water. The singing had stopped, and they had turned to talking to Elowen - whom you all knew to have been married only a few nights ago.

“What was it like?” The question was followed by a lot of giggling, while Elowen slowly turned red in the neck.

“Did it hurt?” Another of the girls asked her. “He was your first, was he not?”

You looked over your right shoulder to Tristan, who stared back at you. His face mirrored the disbelief displayed on yours. Were they really discussing her wedding night?

“Was it enjoyable?” You snapped your head back to the ladies so quickly you feared you might break it. That voice would stand out to you anywhere.

“Was that Tamsyn, Melot?” Aedan whispered softly. He looked as surprised as Tristan had moments ago. You felt your own ears grow warm and thanked God that your hair hid them from sight. An impatient nudge to the elbow reminded you of the question, which you answered through a simple nod.

“I have not quite decided what I think of it.” None of you dared believe that Elowen would actually answer these questions. Your eyes widened even further as she continued: “I think it could be?”

“I have no interest in hearing this,” Pyran hissed before he retreated, taking Lowen with him. It was just you, Tristan, and Aedan now, and while you all considered leaving, none of you seemed able to lift your legs. So, you kept listening, and as the conversation drew to a close, the three of you saw red in the face from embarrassment at how freely they had discussed the topic.

“These conversations cannot be fit for ladies,” Aedan whispered. You worried that his eyes might fall out of their sockets if they opened any wider - the same applied to yourself, too.

“These conversations are unfit for us, friend,” Tristan laughed softly. The girls began to gather their things, signalling they were about to leave.

“But we have them, regardless,” you weighed in on the conversation. Both of your friends chuckled at your words. It was the simplest truth: you spoke of it often, in fact, and in terms that were a great deal more crude than what you had heard today. As more and more of the men your age took wives, these talks only became more frequent. But to hear the women speak of it - it felt like an entirely different matter. And those questions from shy, delicate Tamsyn - your Tamsyn, though she had only allowed you a few swift kisses - they tormented you. She had seemed so curious about the whole ordeal, but so innocent at the same time. The ladies began walking back towards the village, and you took it as your cue to leave; they would see you if you all stayed where you were.

“Melot, hurry up,” Tristan told you, but you could not move. The fabric of your trousers had caught on a branch and tearing it free would certainly make noise. You beckoned your friends to leave ahead of you. On your own you would be fine, hiding from sight until the girls had passed you.

“Go ahead,” you said to your friends, “I think I heard something.” Elowen and Morwenna shrugged and kept walking, Beryan held still until you motioned at her to go. Carefully, you walked off the path, into the woods, towards the sound you believed to have heard. There, behind a tree, not paying any attention to his surroundings as he was busy freeing the leg of his trousers from a fallen branch, was Melot.

“Do you not carry a knife, Melot?” You asked. He was utterly startled by the sudden revelation of your presence but composed himself quickly.

“I do,” he chuckled softly, “and I am positive my mother will gladly cut me with it if I tear these beyond her ability to mend them, so I had better not use it.”

“Oh, move,” you dropped to one knee and slapped his hands out of your way. They were warm, and your heart skipped a beat when you touched them. He pulled his away remarkably quickly, which struck you as strange. Had he not spent months courting you? His smile melted your doubts: Melot could smile in a way that made you feel like the only woman in the whole world. You felt your blood creep up to your cheeks, and prayed to God, he would not see it. With a few swift tugs, you pulled the fabric away from the branch.

“Thank you, Tamsyn,” he said as he got up. Once back on his feet, he offered you his hand so he could help you, and you gladly took it. Somehow, it felt even warmer than before. Upon standing up, you lost your footing on the uneven surface and tumbled into him. His arms wrapped quickly and effortlessly around your waist and pulled you against his broad chest. You felt small in his embrace - and incredibly safe, especially when you rested your hands on his arms, and felt the muscles in them tighten underneath his clothes.

“Are you alright?” He asked, concern speaking from his voice. As you nodded and whispered a barely audible ‘yes’, you felt your cheeks burn even more than they had before. When you looked up, his face was closer to yours than you had expected, and you were overcome with the sudden desire to kiss him. Slowly, you moved one of your hands to his cheek and looked up at him only to find him smiling down at you. There it was again, that feeling that you were the only one to him. Oh, how good it felt to have him look at you in that way. A warm hand covered yours, while the other held you closer to him. It was a chaste kiss you shared, like the ones before. You would have allowed him more, but he had never pressed the matter, and you felt uncomfortable offering it, for fear of what he would think of you. And so once more you pressed your lips to his, lingering a bit longer, in hopes he would attempt to deepen it, but he did not. When you moved away, however, he held you close against him. There was a troubled look in his eyes that fills you with concern.

“What’s the matter, Melot?” you asked him curiously.

“I- It's nothing.” Of course you could not believe him; something was bothering him, that much was obvious. You deliberated for a moment whether further inquiry would be considered improper, but soon decided to set your sorrows aside.

“Melot, I can tell you are lying,” you said with an edge of amusement to your voice.

“I overheard your conversation,” he admitted as his cheeks slowly started to colour with shame, “I have a question about it. But not here.” You let him lead the way along the stream, until you reached a beautiful waterfall you had not seen before. Your surprise must have been evident from the look on your face, because Melot chuckled as he wrapped his arms around you.

“No one comes here, it's too far upstream to be sensible for daily chores,” he said as he pressed his lips against your forehead.

“What did you want to ask me?” You said as you sat yourself down on a rock near the edge of the river. Melot sat next to you. He was nervous to ask his question, you could tell from the way his leg moved constantly.

“Why did Beryan ask if… it hurt?” He looked away from her, not daring to meet her eyes. These conversations were hardly proper between husband and wife, let alone two young, unwed lovers such as yourselves. You sat for a moment flushed and vexed at what he had asked. The answer to his question was simple, but should you give it to him? It was clear the men were not made aware of these things, perhaps there was a reason for that? Yet his voice was drenched with genuine curiosity, and because of that, you did not want to deny him an answer.

“Because it most often does, or so our mothers tell us,” you said softly, “no one tells you this?”

Melot shook his head. “Not once.” He looked down at his hands. “Do you think it has to?”

“Be painful, you mean?” To this, he nodded in reply. You shrugged, unable to answer his question. It was what you had been told, and so had your friends. A few had even been able to confirm the tales, so far. For whatever reason, you made Melot privy to these thoughts.

“It seems unfair to me,” he said after a while, to which you raised an eyebrow inquisitively. “That you have to be uncomfortable, and we do not.” When he said it, you laughed at how delightfully ignorant his statement was. Clearly no one made any effort to tell the boys of the monthly suffering you went through. Of course it was not a man’s business, and you were not going to let him in on it, either, but the incognizance was still striking.

“Why do you laugh at that?” He smiled kindly at you. “I don’t want to hurt you, so -” He stopped his sentence halfway through and looked at you in terror, realising what he had said.

“I did not mean to imply… That is not why I brought you h-” You believed him, instantly, but he continued his apologies. “I simply meant, if some day we would… We’d be married, of course.” His words took you by surprise.

“Are you asking me to be your wife?” You asked him so softly you suspected he might not even hear your query. He looked at you somewhat distraught.

“Not yet, I think,” he said, but it sounded more like a question than an answer, “but I have thought about it.”

“I am only a simple town girl, Melot,” you sighed, “you are nephew to the king.”

“Believe me, I am hardly his favourite,” Melot said with a smile. It was true, he was not the king’s most beloved relative, nor was he the one who had been appointed king Marke's successor. This had angered him at first, but he and Tristan had since made peace, and Melot had seen that it absolved him in part of the extreme scrutiny that came with the role, though he was still the king’s blood, meaning he had to behave. It was hard for him at times. “I have his blessing to court you.” He added his last sentence hesitantly. Somehow, it was very nice to have some confirmation, though you doubted even Melot would have been insolent enough to continue his quest for your affections if his uncle had not permitted it. It went without saying that your parents were extremely fond of the match. Still, you had never dared to dream that one day you might truly be his wife…

He took one of your hands in his, carefully, as though it might break under his touch. His were a warrior's hands, calloused and rough, yet he always held you with care - in the fleeting moments you had where he could hold you, at least. This, you now both realised, was not one of those moments. That is to say: it was not fleeting, as the others had been. You were far away from everyone, no one would bother you here.

You looked deeply into each other’s eyes, at first not realising one - or possibly both - of you was leaning forward, your faces slowly inching closer together until your lips touched. This kiss lasted longer - maybe it was not one kiss, but several, you did not know. Put quite bluntly, it was of marginal interest to you at best; the only things that mattered to you were Melot’s soft lips that pressed against yours, again, and again. When he moved away from you again, you looked into his eyes, stunned by their beautiful colour, but perhaps more by the look in them. It had taken you a while to allow yourself to be convinced that he was actually taken with you, and now each time you seemed to come to terms with that idea, he looked at you with yet more affection than he had ever before. You closed your eyes and leaned in to kiss him again, taking his face between your hands to pull him closer. He answered your kiss with a new degree of enthusiasm. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you took tenuous note of the quickening beating of your heart, and the unsteady rhythm of your breathing when you felt Melot’s lips part against yours. The wetness and warmth of his tongue startled you, but not so much that it made you in any way inclined to pull away. Your hands fell away from his cheeks, and you draped your arms around his neck. One of his hands you felt tenderly caressing your face, while the other held you at your middle with great care. He trembled ever so slightly, as though he was felled with nerves. But he couldn’t be! Your warrior, overcome with worries, and all at the touch of a woman? It was simply impossible! And yet you felt it; tremors in his hands, however subtle, as once again his tongue gently trailed your lips, requesting entrance. This time, you granted his wish by parting your lips.

In no way were you prepared for the sensations that came over you as he explored your mouth with his tongue, and you his, though you felt that you were much more hesitant than he was. Copious conversations with your friends had prepared you a bit for what was to come, but the explanations were by no means extensive, which was hardly fortuitous, if you had to be perfectly honest about it. Your heart dropped when Melot retreated, and you sighed softly when he lifted his lips off yours. For a moment, he rested his forehead against yours, and you both basked in the afterglow of the moment you had shared.

Suddenly you were overcome by sorrow. It was involuntary, but the feeling was simply too strong to ignore.

“Did you enjoy that?” The question startled you, and you were torn between telling him the truth or telling him what you had been raised to answer.

“I am afraid to admit it was quite enjoyable,” you answered plainly, “it's said we are not supposed to, is it not?”

“Plenty of things are said every day,” Melot answered, “that doesn't mean they hold any truth.”

#melot fanfiction #melot #melot x ofc #melot fanfic #tristan + isolde #henry cavill characters #henrycavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill

43 notes · View notes

simpywriter · 2 years

Text

Flames

Part One

Pairing: Zuko x Reader Universe: Canon Words: 2.6k

Part II | Part III

Summary: The relationship with your best friend Zuko come to a difficult moment when you discover your bending powers.

Warnings: just a bit of angst

You knew Zuko since he and his sister were of young age. Being the only daughter of an important general close to the Fire Lord, it wasn’t uncommon for you to wander around the rich part of the Fire Nation Capital by yourself, too shy to approach the other kids without the help of your mother, which on the other hand wasn’t so caring to be on your side even at a young age.

One day your small feet carried you to your favorite spot, an isolated and quiet nook of a garden where no one was able to see you jumping and screaming, pretending to be a mighty fighter and throwing fake kicks and punches to the air. This time you didn’t even get to the garden’s entrance. Turning to take a street parallel to the main one you ran into someone just around the corner; you fell on rear with a pained groan.

«Ow- I’m sorry, sir», you muttered dusting the dirt off your shorts «I wasn’t looking where…». You voice died in your throat as soon as you saw Princess Ursa and her son, prince Zuko, looking at you from their spot in front of you. Your small figure was consumed by shyness and uneasiness, the prince was looking at you with big curious eyes and you suddenly remembered that you were in front of the royal family, hastening to bow in sign of respect. «Oh no sweetheart, no need for that», Ursa intervened, shaking her head with a smile «I’m happy to find someone of Zuko’s age here».

Her tone was calm and sweet, she emphasized her last statement with a gentle pat on Zuko’s head, who was quick to hide behind her gown. You were back on your feet with rosy cheeks, tugging at the hem of your shirt. «Are you alright?», she asked, receiving a small nod from you. «Where is your mother?» «She’s… home», your face was even redder now and you couldn’t bring yourself to look her in the eyes «I’m usually alone when I play…». Ursa didn’t miss the tiny disappointment in your voice, her expression softened looking at you and the hand resting on Zuko’s head instinctively started caressing his hair again. She looked at her son with kind eyes before speaking, «Why don’t you go play with her for a while?”. At her words your face lifted with wide eyes, you couldn’t believe what you heard. Prince Zuko, heir of the Fire Nation was going to be friend with you?

«No» Yes, maybe it was too good to be true. You should’ve expected it but the rejection still made your heart ache in sadness. Ursa opened her mouth to convince her son, but was quick interrupted by a piercing scream from the other end of the street «Zuko!». The said boy went pale upon seeing an excited Ty Lee running in their directions, dodging a complaining merchant with a jump «Zukooooo». The girl kept screaming until her form blocked your way, starting to run around you in circles, her long braid almost hitting your face more than once.

«Who is she? Who are you? What is your name? Are you Zuko’s friend? Are you his girlfriend? How old are you? Do you know Azula? Do you know Mai? I’m Ty Lee nice to meet you, can we be friends? I want to be your friend!». You’ve never been this red in your entire, short life and as she pestered you with curious question you were only able to stammer your name and your age, but nothing seemed able to stop the vivacious girl. Ursa was laughing and Zuko seemed to have overcome the initial embarrassment, leaving his hiding spot to argue with Ty Lee.

«Come on! Let’s play together!», after a silent request for permission to the prince’s mother, the little girl took your hand, not waiting a second before pulling you in the direction of the same garden where you were going to play alone for the rest of the afternoon. «Hey! Wait for me!», you heard from behind you, turning around as you could to see Zuko running in your direction with his eyebrows furrowed. The edges of your lips lifted on their own accord, forming a little smile.

From that day on you were no longer alone, soon you also met Mai and Azula and thanks to Ursa (and the appeal of your father’s status) you were also allowed to play inside the Royal Palace, creating a special bond with the Fire Prince and Ty Lee. It was exactly with the two of them that you first discovered that you were a Firebender. You almost completely burned Ty Lee’s skirt when fire came out of your hands.

«You must hide it!», Zuko yelled right after your initial surprise. You never saw him this worried and the fear in his eyes made you squirm in anguish. You never expected to be a bender, but for a small fraction of a second, the moment your fingers were engulfed in flames, you felt a strong power withing you; it only lasted a few moments but the thought of being able to experience that feeling again filled you with excitement. At least until you sensed your friends’ terror.

You looked between them in confusion, «What? Why should I-» «If they see you… They’ll make you fight as a soldier. You’ll have to go away and-» «And we’ll never see you again…», Ty Lee finished for him. Her voice was calmer than the boy’s but much sadder. You were trembling and looking at your hands with quivering lips, «I don’t want this. I don’t want to fight», your vision blurred as tears started to flow down your cheeks, the girl next to you quickly gathered you in her arms. «We won’t allow it, it’s a secret», she whispered «Yes! A secret», Zuko nodded vigorously «My uncle will help you like he’s helping me. And dad will never know». His hand took your tiny one and hold it tightly as he whispered your name «I swear, I will protect you».

You learned to control your power with the help of Zuko, he tried to explain to you, hidden from curious eyes, what his father taught him. He also asked his uncle a hand and he gladly accepted, taking you under his wing and treating you like a real niece. You grew up like this, together with the prince and Ty Lee, playing in the company of his sister and Mai. Your family seemed happy to know you were so close to the future Fire Lord and innuendos of a possible relationship were not long in coming; you, on the other hand, had no intention of changing the nature of your relationship with Zuko. It was all too perfect, so spontaneous and sincere, you wouldn’t let Azula’s teasing and your parents’ pressure ruin your friendship with the boy.

But sadly, you wouldn’t have remained children forever. «I said that it wasn’t me!», you yelled at Mai, she was staring down at you with folded arms, her thin eyes nearly scrutinizing inside of you. «Then who? You were the last one I saw near my knives». Her tone was calm but extremely arrogant, so much what you could feel your ears ring with annoyance. Zuko, Azula and Ty Lee were seated at the age of the turtle duck pond, their gazes worn out and exhausted; the argument had been going on for several minutes now and neither seemed to want to gave up, with Mai accusing you of taking two of her throwing daggers and you constantly defending yourself.

Zuko’s head was resting against his palm as Ty Lee wearily kicked the dirt, only Azula seemed to be amused by the discussion in front of them, typical of her. «Come on, Y/N», she interceded, getting the attention of both of you «You can admit it and get it over with»

You raised an eyebrow at the girl, giving her a quizzical look «Admit what, exactly?» «That you’re just jealous because you don’t have anything special», her words were sharp as a knife, your body froze and with the corner of your eyes you could see how each of those present nearly stopped breathing, even Mai was speechless. «What do you mean?» «It’s obvious. Me and Zuko? We are firebenders and Fire Prince and Princess», she started, eyes closed and fingers raising with every statement.

«Ty Lee is the best in sports and a prodigy in the chi blocking technique» «Azula», Zuko intervened, his tone cautious but your ears could only hear the girl’s venomous words «And Mai is so good at fighting that you had to steal her knives to feel important» Your voice was feeble as tears pricked your eyes «It’s not true…» «Of course it is! Look at you, small and vulnerable» «Azula, that’s enough» «Even now, you need Zuzu to come to your rescue» «Stop it…» «And just because you’re nothing more than a spoiled girl with a crush on my brother» «Azula!» «Stop it!»

You body was shaking, rage crawled in every inch of your chest, legs, arms…. Until it exploded from your fingers in a blast of smoke and flames, that embraced your fists in a menacing display of your power. Every one stared at you with wide eyes, Ty Lee covered her mouth with both hands, the only sounds in the gardens were the water’s pouring and your heavy breathing. When the fire went out, it was too late. Your gaze met Azula’s astonished one, it was a split second, just an instant before her mouth folded into a grin, the same one you had seen countless times when the girl plotted something spiteful.

«Interesting», was the only word her lips formed, before her back turned to you and she was running towards the Palace’s entry. «Azula, wait!», Zuko’s voice woke you from the trance you were in, you looked at him, eyes glossy and scared «Y-You just stay here, I’ll try to… convince her». And he was gone, just as Azula, going after her with desperate steps.

She saw. She saw you and she was going to tell her father. They’ll make you fight as a soldier. You’ll have to go away. Zuko was screaming directly in your head, you couldn’t stop the tears this time, as they flowed down your cheeks, falling to the ground, soon followed by your knees as your legs gave out under your body. You vaguely heard Ty Lee carefully calling for you, reaching your side as soon as you let out a sob; «Zuko will convince her», she stroked your hair, trying to calm your cries «Right Mai?». The girl was still in front of you, standing composed as always, but her expression betrayed her true feelings. The compassionate look Mai gave you didn’t leave you much hope.

You were suspended for at least a week, no news, no certainty, no sentence. You stayed in your room most of the day, crying. Ty Lee and Mai came to visit you from time to time but your parents stopped them after they found out what you were keeping from them. «You will deserve whatever our Fire Lord will dictate to you. You have betrayed your country, now you will suffer the consequences», your mother once said.

Zuko was gone, you heard from Ty Lee that he was spending his time talking to her mother whenever he could, trying to get her to intervene. And you hoped with all your heart that Ursa still had some influence on Fire Lord Ozai.

«Charged of desertion», your father came into your room one morning, behind the door you could see two guards. The blood inside your body froze at the sight of their stiff and menacing form, of what it could mean. «Punishment, exile. And I agree», he stated. Your world crumbled under your feet, a lump in your throat made it difficult to speak clearly, «Father-»

«But…», he stopped your pleads with the wave of a hand, his gaze even harder than before «Apparently our prince is more merciful than his father. You have the opportunity to atone for your sins by working for the Nation, you will be a bodyguard. You will do whatever your customers ask and I warn you, don’t you dare doing anything to make us even more ashamed of the disappointing daughter you are». You didn’t have time to see your mother, you didn’t even heard another word from your father when the two guards guided you to the palace, your new home; your belongings have been entrusted to two servants you passed through on your way up the staircase. The first real interaction with a human being was when Zuko ran to you at the entrance of your rooms, hugging you with such impulse that you almost fell to the ground. «I told you I’d protect you», he kept whispering in your hair as you were finally free to feel the warmth of someone who truly cared for you.

Protecting others became your new job, the Fire Lord gave you so much work that it made seeing others more and more difficult; most of the time they came to visit you in the evening, when possible. Your training, now individual and at one of Ozai’s men’s hand, became more and more intense and regular, sometimes Zuko openly requested to spare with you, it was one of the few occasions you were truly happy to use your bending.

But in two years many things changed, Iroh’s son died, Ursa disappeared and the competition between Zuko and Azula became more and more tenacious. The need to prove that the princess was wrong grew stronger within you; you didn’t need to be protected, you were strong enough to take care of yourself and others, just like your job required. But you weren’t going to serve just capricious nobles whose real need was to have a personal army so that they’d feel important, you wanted to be really useful to your country, no matter the stupid war that everyone seemed to be so happy for, pursued by the false propaganda of the Fire Lord. It was just painful to see Zuko so convinced by it. So you started to sneak off, face covered from the nose down with bandages, a hood over your head and your bending as your only weapon in aid of the suburbs. It didn’t take long for the birth of a myth among the cities: an enemy of the Nation but a friend of ordinary people. If you weren’t required for job nobody asked about you, you were almost invisible, as if your crime acted also as an alibi, allowing you to escape for a longer amount of time and giving you the chance to help even in more distant towns.

But although you felt stronger, the loneliness did not fade, by now your bond was only with Zuko but his duties as a prince began to increasingly consume your time together, until you were left with only fleeting encounters late in the evening, for a little more than an hour before collapsing to exhaustion. But your relationship snapped the day of his Agni Kai, when his father scarred him and proved himself as the horrible person you always thought he was; but for Zuko this truth was too much to bare and there was nothing you could say to convince him. From the moment he was exiled his only desire was to regain his honor.

It didn’t matter that you ran away, risking your own life to embark with him, condemning yourself to a life as a fugitive, just to be with him, it didn’t matter that his uncle was the only real parent always present for him and that he was the first to offer to keep you hidden from the Fire Nation, knowing how much important was your presence for him. Nothing mattered anymore.

Part II

Thank you so much for reading! If you liked this chapter you can leave a like or a comment and if you have time you can check my Ao3. Hope you enjoyed!

#avatar #avatar the last airbender #avatar x reader #avatar x you #avatar zuko #zuko x you #zuko x reader #zuko imagine #zuko avatar #zuko fluff #zuko angst #ty lee #zuko #iroh #azula #mai atla

228 notes · View notes

dotieeee · 1 year

Text

The Dream That Got Away

Chapter 13

Pairing: Dark!Morpheus x You (no Y/N!)

This is a multi-chapter fic — Weekly updates (either Saturday or Sunday) because I found a rhythm of sorts lol

(The entire fic has been outlined, so I will see this to the end, you have my word)

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

Link to the Masterlist

Overall Warnings!! Take heed:

Morpheus is DARK – in canon, he changes for the better (or at least, tries to – but we don’t do canon lol, so he goes even more batshit crazy) cue obsession, manipulation, possessiveness, powerplay

18+ ONLY – explicit scenes will be present, some explicit language

DUB-CON and NON-CON scenes

Character death (sort of)

Creator vs Creation drama

And other dark stuff that may be added in the future

This chapter’s warnings:

graphic dub-con ahead - turn back now if this disturbs you :)

touch-starved Morpheus should be a warning of its own

PTSD and trauma angst, and selective amnesia (depicted creatively) resulting from trauma

reader still hearing voices

manipulation galore

You have been warned!! Proceed with caution!!!

Link to the previous chapter

Chapter 13: Under the Starry Night Sky

You whip your head around in alarm at the voice, a young woman’s, that had just entered the room and echoed inside the dungeon.

Impossible. Could she have –?

She stands in the corner of the dungeon twirling her wild, multi-coloured, shoulder-length hair, wearing a brown coat too large for her petite frame over her underwear and what seems to be a torn fishnet body suit. She has the appearance of a teenager, but there’s something about her that feels like she’s older than she looks – dangerous, powerful…

Endless.

“I don’t like being ogled at. That’s a funny word, but ‘gawk’ is even funnier, I think,” she says, her voice almost having the quality of a thousand colours in the spectrum. “I do that a lot, these days – think? Even right now, I’m thinking of thinking, while also thinking about what you’re thinking.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ogle, or gawk, or stare,” you amend, flashing her a small smile in greeting. “Lady Delirium.”

She ignores your greeting and favours continuing her line of questioning.

“I can also hear the Voice thinking, but it already went quiet.”

Your smile is wiped off your face at once at her words. Before you, Lady Delirium keeps muttering to herself, confirming what you had dreaded when she walked in.

“I hear voices all the time, you know. There’s that one from the butcher shop, then two coming from a saleslady at a posh department store – I never liked their clothes, they always look so, uh, posh-y, I don’t know the word really. Then there’s this one lady who can actually see me, except no one believes her. But the voice inside her talks to me too. Yours won’t talk now. Do you know ‘what’s here’?”

“I don’t know, actually,” you say slowly, trying to choose your words carefully. “You mean, you can actually hear it?”

Swaying on her feet, she starts creating bubbles out of thin air, popping them with glee. “Oh yeah. It’s not very friendly to me. Not yet anyway, they all become my friends in the end. What about you? Are you a friend?”

Caught by surprise at the question, you stammer, “I – but of course, i-if my Lady wishes me so,” you manage with a shy smile.

“Great!” Lady Delirium exclaims, taking both your hands in hers. Her wide, mismatched eyes look into yours with delight, and you return her toothy grin, even if you find her stare somewhat unnerving – it’s a stare that feels like it sees you bare, looking through and living in your innermost thoughts.

“I’ve heard friends help each other find what they lost. You see, we lost a brother,” she says as she quite literally drags you out of the dungeon by the sleeve. You both reach the foot of a staircase, presumably ascending to one of the main halls, where she stops suddenly, looking at you with doe eyes and a pout. “I tried convincing my siblings to help me look for him, but they all turned me away like I was a n-n-uuu-isaaance.”

Right before you, she pauses her speech as her hair transitions from her rainbow-coloured hair, shortening to almost a dull, badly cut bob. She pops a lone bubble dolefully, before asking, “Do you think I’m a nnuuu-iiissaaance, Mera?”

“Of course not, my Lady,” you reply with a soft smile, recalling a certain Endless who had turned away and rejected your pleas. “I know the feeling.”

“So, you’ll help me find my brother? The one we lost, I mean, not the mean one, or Destiny, ‘cause he’s not going anywhere, he never leaves his garden, you know…”

“I’ll help in any way I can.”

“Yay!!”

With a thrilled squeal, Lady Delirium lets go of you and climbs the stairs, with you following behind.

Shit. Suddenly, you remember: she can hear the Voice and she may very well tell her brother.

“Uh, Lady Delirium?” you call out to her as she wobbles in her steps off the far end of the hallway.

“Yeah?”

“Remember how you said we can be friends?” you start, shooting her a hopeful look. “Can you keep the Voice you heard a secret? Please?”

She turns her head at you, her mouth forming a comical ‘o’ at your request. Finally, she says, “Sure, I keep many secrets, I’m rather good at them! The people who see me tend to reveal stuff, and even if they don’t really like telling them, they tell me anyway. Even Dream has a secret, but I can’t tell you…” With a flair, she places her forefinger to her lips.

“Thank you, Lady Delirium,” you say with a relieved sigh.

Taking your hand once more, she walks on, turning right to another hallway you’re not familiar with. She continues telling you stories that don’t connect and don’t make sense, but you listen anyway, knowing she could teach you a thing or two.

“I know where we can start looking for my brother. He created the Abyss, and Dream offered it a place to stay somewhere here, in his realm, but I don’t really know where. But I’m close, I think? I just rowed to the wrong island, I think.”

“Hang on,” you wonder, your curiosity spiking. “Isn’t that just a myth? The Abyss?”

“I suppose it could be for someone who hasn’t really seen it,” she just replies casually.

After three of four left turns and five rights, you later find yourselves in the same hallway as before when you came out of the dungeon’s staircase.

“My Lady, I think we’re lost…” you comment, looking around for another way out besides what you’ve already passed.

Her only reply is cryptic.

“Being lost is only temporary, but if it isn’t, then maybe you’re meant to be there and you’re not really lost, I dunno,” she says with a nonchalant shrug. She then pushes the door to her left open and enters, with you trailing behind.

You’re greeted by the sight of the tall, all-black figure of Dream of the Endless, standing in the middle of the room.

“My sister, my Dream,” he acknowledges you both, tilting his head in his sister’s direction. “What brings you both here? Little sister, you know better than to enter my realm without consulting me in my Gallery.”

“But you weren’t answering, and Desire told me to ‘go away,’” she counters, her hair growing rapidly and turning ash-blonde with red and green highlights. At her brother’s hard, chastising stare, she continues, her voice quivering as if trying not to cry, “And Death is busy, as always, and Destiny just kept telling me nonsense, I couldn’t make out any of his words, and Despair told me to ‘give up’ but you know I can’t, I just miss our brother terribly and what if something bad happened, or something…so there.”

The Dream Lord sighs in mild irritation before pinching the bridge of his nose.

“We have been through this, little sister. Our brother does not want to be found. Now, I have my realm to attend to. Perhaps it’s best you return to yours.”

“I knew you’d say that,” she says with a dejected sigh. “At least Mera was kind enough to offer help.” She sticks her tongue out at her brother, before waving at you farewell and disappearing into a blinding, white crack in the space.

***

You had expected (or hoped?) to see Lady Delirium again, but you don’t see a single hair of hers after her visit. More than a month has since passed – but then again, you had stopped counting since the second week. You’re still imprisoned – in the castle and in your own mind. If you aren’t catatonically staring out to open the sea or the grey walls, or in bed, sleeping, you take to locking yourself up in the bathroom after your Dream Lord leaves for his duties. The Voice isn’t much help either. It has so far only spoken one thing since it’s been heard by Lady Delirium: the word ‘dungeon.’ Exactly what the fuck that meant, you had entirely no clue. Perhaps it isn’t really the Voice you heard, but you going out of your mind. After all, why would Lady Delirium choose to come to you, if you had not started going over the edge?

Having so much time alone by yourself, you had every opportunity to replay the events that had led to your imprisonment, but since that day you saw a vision of the blurry man in Ethan the Knight’s place, your memory has been coming in fragments, if not an entirely blank sheet. No matter how hard you try or how loud you scream, nothing would come, except distorted shapes and muddled emotions.

It has been hours since your Dream Lord left this morning. As you sit on the cold bathroom floor hugging your knees to your chest, crying desperately for any recall that wouldn’t come, it dawns on you that you had hit rock bottom and are in bad need of help.

You had called to him many times before. Will he listen to your pleas this time?

***

Dream of Endless expects that when he comes home to you and to the tower he’s keeping you in, he’ll find you on the bathroom floor sulking.

He had known for quite some time that you had switched from watching the sea melancholically to hiding in the bathroom whenever he’s gone away. He has watched you gradually spiral into depression at being left in the castle for long periods of time without anything to do besides wandering the decrepit fortress, and there are some days he wonders to himself whether he had gone too far in punishing you, if your recent brush with his sister Delirium is anything to go by. On those days in question, he would find his resolve weakening when he hears you plead so woefully beside him as he holds you close in the night, but of course, he never lets it show. In response, would only shush your crying in the softest ways he can – you had to learn, you had to live through your penance before he could shower you with all the luxury the whole of Dreaming can offer. He could not let you, his most beloved, walk away without so much as a slap on your wrist for defying his orders and daring to love anyone else other than him, to whom all your love, affection, and loyalty should belong. It had hurt him the way you continued spurning him, true, but your suffering brought him no joy. Also, although he had thoroughly taken boundless pleasure in every single night he had laid with you, it certainly does not sit well with him to have to force you to fulfil your duties to him, your King, as the King himself does to his realm. No matter: he is sure you will one day see the error of your ways.

And he had another reason for keeping you in the tower and away from everyone else: he knew from the very beginning that isolating you – when you’re still mourning the loss of that detestable mortal that dared keep you from him by way of that deplorable magic – would drive you to inconsolable spirits, and who better to save you from despair than him? He is aware he had started to chip off your rebelliousness, and you had started seeking him yourself to plead your case – he will take you back to his palace eventually, and if he does it at just the right time, he might be able to push you further into accepting your place beside him as his princess-consort.

Morpheus arrives on the balcony of the tower, tired from a long day and very much ready to spend the entire night hogging your warmth. He lets out an imperceptible sigh of relief – since he has placed you here, he has looked forward to coming home to you every night. He could just see how happy you would both be in each other’s arms under the pale moonlight of the Dreaming once he has reinstated your place in his own palace at the heart of his kingdom.

The instant he steps inside the room, he hears soft sobs coming from the bathroom. He reaches you in no time, sitting beside you on the floor and scooping you in his arms. It warms his heart the way you wrap your arms around him at once; he knows you’re starved for company, so he relishes the willing contact. He buries his face in your hair, greedily taking in your scent.

“My Lord, please,” he hears you beg against his shirt, your voice cracking from crying all day. “Please, take me back to the palace, I beg you. I’m trying not to lose my mind, but it’s just so damn hard when all I get to see is this stupid, decaying castle all the time.”

“It pains me to see you this distraught, dream of mine,” he replies softly as he caresses your exposed cheek with his forefinger. Has he pushed you close to your limit?

“Then, free me, my Lord…please,” you choke out.

Vaguely, he recalls the same words from a woman he thought he once loved: one he had sent to Hell for scorning him as you have done.

This time, could he find it in his heart to forgive?

But, this woman was nothing like you, the dream he had so lovingly and meticulously crafted to perfection.

Morpheus carefully chooses his next words. “My Mera, I do not mean to cause you so much anguish.”

Your voice comes as a faint whisper, but the subtle rebuke in it makes him pause momentarily.

“And yet you insist on keeping me here as punishment for something I can’t even remember…

“I know I did something bad, I tried to escape, but my memory – they come in fragments. And I try, but every time I think I’m close, everything becomes blurry again,” you say weakly as he feels your trembling hand crumple his shirt to try to stave off the fresh bout of tears.

“I just want to go back, please…”

Dream, lost for words, places a lingering kiss on your hair as he weaves his sand to send you to unconsciousness. If you were on the brink of mental collapse, he needs you in deep sleep to confirm his suspicions.

He had vowed to himself never to stoop so low as to dive into your mind, let alone even touch your thoughts, but he had to see for himself what your state of mind has become. Once inside, he immediately notices a barrier: behind it are memories of Oliver Chapman and all the time you spent with him – all of it he finds revolting and insulting, it actually leaves a bitter, lingering taste on his tongue. He watches every single memory with shaking fists, allowing his bitter jealousy to course through his veins. This is the first time he’s looking into your so-called love through your eyes, and he wants nothing at that moment but to squeeze the life out of the man that had stolen you right under his nose. He turns away when he gets to a kiss you shared at a bar – he might not help himself from spilling the mortal’s blood if he so much as witnessed another one, and a kiss you had willingly shared with him, at that. Seeing you readily run to the arms of that man felt like he had been stabbed in the heart – what he had sought from you, you had freely given to another: that fact alone is enough to make his Endless blood boil. He then remembers he has a nightmare he’s about to finish – it could be time he assigned that nightmare to torment only the human specifically?

Shaking himself from his train of thought, he remembers what he came here for – torturing the man can wait. He taps the glass-like barrier you had encased those abhorrent memories in.

Admittedly, he had thought of doing this himself just so you could forget your love for the cursed Chapman, but it seems like you had beaten him to it. You had apparently done this yourself subconsciously, likely in order to shield yourself from further trauma. Your own subconscious has declared that memories of your love for that mortal were a danger to your wellbeing, to which he agrees enthusiastically. He sneers slightly in mild amusement: he had powers that now could rival the Morningstar himself, so he could simply shatter the barrier without breaking a sweat. But, why would he?

He had, at last, gotten rid of his rival to your heart, and he didn’t even have to lift a finger.

Satisfied with this development, he ceases his connection to your mind and carries you to the bed, noting how you had turned so frail in your time here. He lays down on your side so he could cuddle you close and listen to your beating heart, which he knows one day will beat only for him.

Perhaps it’s time he takes you back to his castle. And if he plays his cards right, he would have you so grateful that he had finally come to your aid and you’d ultimately surrender to him fully, as he had always envisioned you would.

***

Morpheus wakes you up the next morning to deliver the news. He never tears his eyes away from the way your eyes slowly light up as the realization of freedom hits you, to the way you give him the warmest, most genuine smile he has ever seen from you since his capture. He tries not to be blinded by it, even as the smile is fully directed at him and no one else, like it always should.

“Allow me three days to ensure that you want for nothing in your return.”

Inwardly, he praises himself at the idea of making you wait a little more – he would build up your hope and excitement for your return, making you even more pliable to his wishes. He sees your smile falter a little at the mention of waiting, but what are three more days, when your King is at long last granting what you had so endearingly begged for?

He finds it difficult to keep his composure when you wrap your arms around him in a delicate hug – he just melts in it as he tightens the hug. He couldn’t help burying his face in the groove of your neck, inadvertently planting an innocent kiss. He allows himself a tiny smirk – everything is going according to his plan.

***

The ray of hope that filtered through the room in the form of your freedom was thin, but it was enough to brighten your room a little when your Dream Lord leaves for his duties. This was the only good news you’d ever heard since your imprisonment; you had not been able to stop yourself from impulsively hugging him at the height of your emotions.

It’s when he’s left, however, that the Voice makes known its opinion:

Don’t trust him.

This makes you wonder: is this promise of his another one of his cruel mind games? You know well enough of your master to tell that he can change his mind on a whim, and you realize he might just take it all back the moment he feels the slightest resistance from you.

But in all honesty, what else could you do, knowing he’s your only way out of this place? You release a heavy puff as you sit on the edge of the bed so you could compose yourself. If you could last the next three days being the demure subject and obeying your King’s bidding, he’d have no reason to go back on his word.

Either way you go, you’re screwed.

Thankfully for you, the next two days coasted by with nothing but your frazzled nerves to deal with. Your Dream King had been merciful enough to sense that you weren’t in the mood to sleep with him in any way, so he let you be, only holding you close to his chest as he waited for you to fall asleep. You had drowsily asked him a random question about how you hadn’t seen Jessamy; he had responded after a long pause about his beloved raven’s death at the hands of his captors. He had spoken with so much vulnerability, you actually caressed his face with your fingers to try and comfort him before drifting off. It was probably the only time he’d ever be vulnerable with you.

You watch the afternoon sun in the Dreaming slowly sink into the horizon, painting the sky and sea with a thousand shades of purples and oranges, signalling the kingdom’s passage to a starry night its King is partial to.

That means the monarch in question is about to arrive to spend his night with you in your prison cell.

***

Dream of the Endless appears on the balcony a little after the sun has fully set and the stars have begun glittering in the night sky. He finds you there, staring at the sea, and he watches you turn gracefully to acknowledge him, your silhouette standing out against the midnight blue sky. He feels his heart warm at the way you hold his gaze for a few moments – but then you turn away, breaking the spell. You’re still uneasy around him, it seems.

But, to him, it’s a simple fix: once he takes you back to his castle, he’ll never let you leave his side. You’ll have all the time in the universe to start warming up to him.

He approaches your side languidly, never speaking a word as he takes in the scenery, allowing only the hushed sounds of waves crashing against the rocky cliff to break the silence. This will probably be the last time in a long while that he’ll have you fully to himself – he knows other creatures of the Dreaming would take up your time, because who wouldn’t love their new princess-consort? – and so he just wants to savour this moment, and this night, with you.

Quietly, he looks up at the star-filled sky, fondly recalling a promise he had made to you in your sleep.

“A little more than a hundred years ago, I vowed that you’d fall asleep in my arms under the Dreaming stars.”

Morpheus turns to face you fully, and you do the same, perhaps out of habit, he muses, but you continue averting your eyes, looking at anything but him. This wouldn’t do, of course, so lifts your chin with a finger and, closing the distance between you, he kisses your soft lips, revelling in your taste. He feels your lips move against his, albeit shyly, but it doesn’t matter – it’s enough to fuel the fire stirring within him like only you could, and nothing else, no one else, could quell it for him. He cups your cheek and angles his head to deepen the kiss, allowing his tongue to repeatedly slide over yours as you bashfully try to keep up.

But a passionate lip lock isn’t enough – it’s never enough for him – he wants you, he’s always wanted only you, and he wastes no time wrapping his arms around your figure as his sand transports you both to a portion of the island he had prepared for this night. He places both his hands on your waist to steady you before you break your footing as you both land on the seashore. Reluctant as he was to break your kiss, he pulls away so he could carry you, bridal style, to the bed that he had fashioned out of his sand just mere seconds ago. Unlike the bed in the tower, it had no upper panels, allowing for an unobstructed view of the Dreaming’s dark, starry canvas. He lays you down on the silky covers like you’re a porcelain doll he’s afraid to break, before shedding these troublesome clothes he had with a wordless command. He gets on the bed, his thighs on both sides of your hips straddling you. He leans closer to you, his lips stopping just a hairbreadth away from yours, and he speaks:

“You will find that I intend to be true to my word.”

He then sits up, intent on admiring the way look, splayed out underneath him so exquisitely; with your chest visibly heaving up and down in anticipation of his touches, and your hair fanning out to reveal that beauty of a face he crafted. He needs to see more of you, so much more, and yet he gives himself the joy of untying your belt, the only thing that holds your dress in place, with the gentleness akin to unwrapping a fragile gift. Slowly, he peels the dress off, baring that perfect body he so lovingly crafted – it’s all for him to see, to taste, to take, and he plans on reacquainting himself with every inch of you as if he had not already done so almost every night for the past month.

With his hands, he traces every part of you slowly, remembering how he poured his heart out when he crafted you. He begins with your lips, still red from the kiss you shared, to your neck, which he laments is still empty of his marks – he must do something about that, but not a moment too soon. His fingers find their way to your breasts, lazily brushing over your nipples as they perk under his touch. But then, when you start trembling underneath him, he glances at your face: he finds your eyes squeezed shut, with tears gathering at the corners – you were trying to conceal your sobs from him.

Why do you cry so, when all he means is to give you endless ecstasy? Could it be that you still longed for someone else, when he had made it explicitly clear that you belonged to him? Could you be thinking of that mortal? His jaw clenches with ire at the thought, but he reels that feeling in – he is aware of how you’re subconsciously repressing the memories you have of that man, so he needs to think rationally and focus on you.

Besides, there is no one else who can pleasure you the way he does.

“No more of your tears, my little dream. Do not fret: I will make you feel good.”

It matters not to him the way you shake your head in denial – he bends down to kiss your tears away, before moving to capture your lips. He needs you to feel just much you’re sending him on edge with longing, and so he marks you: your jaw, your neck, your collarbones – he covers them in no time with angry welts as he alternates between sucking and biting your flesh. He could feel the blood rushing to his groin, but he sets aside seeking his relief for later, knowing you need it more than him. When his mouth finds one of your breasts and his teeth graze your nipple, you arch your back to him and moan. He bites down even harder, emboldened by your response, and moves to the other breast and lavishes it with just as much attention. The hand that isn’t squeezing your breast traces downwards from your stomach down to the mound between your legs, and he hears you gasp audibly before panting. Gently, he massages your folds, taking delight in the way he makes you wet and start squirming in his grasp. He’s thirsty, and only your nectar could fill him – he places one final lick on your breasts before caressing his way down to your folds. He parts your thighs, admiring the way your opening glistens with wetness. He makes sure he never breaks eye contact with you as he lowers down and starts delving right in.

The moment he starts lapping your juices, you let out a breathy moan and lift your hips to meet his mouth. Grabbing one of your inner thighs to still you, he parts your folds using his tongue and starts flicking your nub with it. The way you cry out makes his cock twitch in anticipation – he’s painfully hard now, but he knows he needs to hold out for you. He intensifies your pleasure by inserting his middle finger into your tight opening. You jerk at the intrusion, but he holds you still while he sucks your clit, sliding his finger in and out and enjoying the way you shake beneath him. Once he adds a second finger inside, he feels you tug his hair harshly. He lets out a pleasured groan and picks up the pace he set with his fingers. He knows you’re close, so he lets his fingers brush over your spot as the continues to suck in your sweet nectar. In no time, your thighs start trembling as you cry your climax out, and like a starved man, he laps up everything you offer him. He then leans back just in time to see you come undone, gasping for air as you finish. He withdraws his fingers from you, coated in your arousal. He gently opens your mouth and issues a command to lick it clean. It stirs him up further, the way you look at him with innocence as you suck them with puckered lips. When he’s satisfied with your work, he takes your hand and places it on his throbbing erection.

“Can you not see the effect you have on me, my Mera? No one else can make me feel the way you do,” he purrs, guiding your fumbling hand up and down his shaft.

But, like always, he wants his undoing to be after you had found yours multiple times, and he prefers being inside you as he does, so he releases your hand and lowers himself closer to your body so he could breathe you in. He clasps his length and uses it to part your folds before positioning himself over your slick opening.

Dream releases a sigh of relief as he slides inside your velvety walls – inside you is where finds his home – and how he wishes he could stay within you forever. He enters you gradually, but it’s pure torture for him to wait as your strangled cries die down, when all he could think of is taking you wildly, so he breathes heavily as he rolls his hips ever-so-slightly to seek some form of comfort. You’re so tight around him, he couldn’t help the groan of pleasure that escapes him as your walls clamp around his length. He begins with slow, deliberate thrusts, while he watches you fist the sheets beneath you. He takes your arms and wraps them around himself so you could hold on to him. As he sets a sensual pace, he drowns out your sobbing with his mouth and runs his tongue over your lips, tasting your salty tears. He knows your tears will eventually turn to cries of pleasure, so he needs to be patient. He continues this laborious pace of his to draw out your little whimpers while he licks and sucks on your jawline and massages your breasts. Eventually, he feels you instinctively meet his hips, so his thrusts become harder and faster, and you reward him by digging your nails into his back and moaning louder. He would never tire of hearing you make such sweet music as he hits your spot over and over.

He then hooks your leg around his waist to deepen his thrusts – he grunts with every roll of your hips together, and for a time, your bodies move in perfect sync. Within minutes, your screams of pleasure fill the shore, and he knows he’s about to bring you over the edge – so he grasps your hips and finally starts taking you in the rhythm and force he had craved since the beginning. He lets loose as his thrusts become more unforgiving, and with a harsh snap of his hips, you come undone beneath him, your body quivering all over as your walls clench desperately around his cock. Right before his eyes is a vision of you he burns into his memory: your hair damp with sweat, your eyelashes fluttering as your eyes close, mouth parted in desire as you scream obscenities into the night – you had never looked more ravishing in his eyes.

But he isn’t done with you yet, not by a stretch. He allows you to catch your breath, but only for a while – he then flips your positions over swiftly so you’re lying on top of him, careful not to pull out of you. He growls a command over your ears:

“Ride your King, dream of mine, and make yourself come.”

And like the obedient little dream you are, you sit up and start moving shyly on top of him, withdrawing from his cock and sinking back down. He watches intensely as you rock your hips, your breasts bouncing with every movement. He reaches up to cup one with his hand as his other digs into your waist so he could control your pace as he thrusts upward. You continue grinding into him until you come apart for the second time, throwing your head back so he could get a clear view of your neck and collarbones littered with his love bites. The sight is almost enough to bring him to the edge, he has to hold himself back, clenching his jaw and growling as your core tightens around his length – you, above him, screaming hoarsely in your passion, bathed from head to toe in the light of a billion stars: his ethereal goddess, his only lover, collapsing on top of him in full bliss.

Morpheus is done waiting, he decides. He slides from underneath you and helps you get on all fours, with your elbows propped for support. From behind you, he gets into position, lifting your hips further in the air, and sinks his throbbing cock inside you. His breath hitches at the way you readily take him in while you make a strangled noise at his intrusion. He senses that you’re close to being overstimulated by the way you try to wriggle away, but he grips your hips with bruising force to keep you in place.

He does not start right away – he just rolls his hips softly, even though it brought him endless torment, restraining himself like so. After a short while, he hears you whine and start pushing into him, but with a sadistic smirk, he holds your hips still.

“Please, my Lord…” he hears you beg beneath him.

Leaning over your ear, Dream whispers, “‘Please’ what, my dream? Use your words.”

“Get it over with, please, I can’t take it anymore,” comes your pained reply.

He just lets out a dark chuckle which makes you shiver. Oh, how he enjoys teasing you like so. “Those aren’t the right words.”

He hears you let out an indignant whimper, before letting out in an embarrassed whisper, “Please, just fuck me, my Lord, please…”

He need not be told twice.

“As my little dream wishes.”

With the force and speed only an Endless could muster, Morpheus ruts into you with wanton abandon, chasing after his own release. The way your core clamps around his cock as he pounds into you relentlessly makes him groan loudly into the night, while your hoarse moans and cries fill his ears, making for one sinful harmony. Not one to neglect you, he starts rubbing your clit, earning hoarse screams from you. He sets a pace you could no longer keep up with, so he tightens his grip on your hips as he pulls you towards him. He has only one thought as he focuses on the way his cock fully sinks into your body again and again: he will never take another lover in his lifetime, he will never want anyone else – he only burns for you, and he will continue to burn only for you even as the last star in the universe gives its last dying flicker.

He is close, and he can feel it; he starts losing his rhythm, his hips slamming into yours with strength that makes you buckle – as you climax beneath him, your walls clamp down on his cock with so much pressure, he loses control: with a roar that shakes the entire island and the ocean surrounding it, Dream’s orgasm hits him in shockwaves – time slows around him as he says your name over and over like a prayer to the goddess underneath him. He releases his seed and fills you up with it, while you clench and milk him for all he’s worth – he pumps inside you until he’s got nothing more to give, eventually stilling his movements, before you both collapse on the bed, with him rolling to the side, careful not to crush you.

Wasting no time, he pulls you close so you could listen to his heartbeat – will you pull away, like you always do? It always hurt him a little bit when do after you had shared such an intimate act, so when you stay limp in his arms, he holds you even closer, as he kisses you so softly, so deeply, letting his lips convey what he couldn’t with words. He then pulls away, sensing you were in no state to respond and strokes your cheeks while he watches your eyes flutter in exhaustion. You both listen to the gentle crashing of the waves on the shore under the starry night, the only witnesses to how he made love to you all night with an all-consuming passion.

Finally, he confesses into the night:

“I hold your heart so dearly, my Mera – would it be so much to ask of you to hold mine, too?”

But the only response he receives is your deep steady breathing, signalling you’d already fallen asleep. Nevertheless, his heart sings at his fulfilled promise. He has many more of them to carry out just for you, and you have nothing but an eternity ahead to open up to him.

***

The first thing that registers when you come to is the hollow pain in your lower abdomen. That had been a normal occurrence for you this past month since you had begun sharing your master's bed, especially from last night’s activities. You sit up, suddenly feeling a different set of sheets underneath you from the one you had slept in last night. You rub the sleep away from your eyes before looking around wildly, half-expecting you’d still be looking at the grey, stone-brick walls and grimy windows.

What greets you makes you jump out of bed and ignore the throbbing ache between your legs.

The room you woke up to is large and blindingly white, owing to the marble floors and walls and sunlight streaming from the windows spanning from the floor to the ceiling and the doors that open to an expansive balcony. You had slept and woken up to this a few times before and remember it clear as day.

You’re in your Dream Lord’s chambers.

You must have lost your mind at last, and you’re just hallucinating all of this, you think. This can’t be real, right? Could he really have brought you back, knowing how much you resisted him last night?

You wrap the silk sheets around your naked body and slowly saunter to the open balcony in disbelief.

But the scenery that unfolds before you do not vanish, as visions often do. With tears cascading down your cheeks, you stare with wonder at the beauty of the heart of the Dreaming like it’s your first time, finally convincing yourself that this is real thisisreal –

“My dream,” comes a deep, velvety voice from behind you.

Your creator, closing in on you, cups your tear-stained cheeks and gently plants a kiss on your forehead.

“You’re home.”

This confirmation is all it takes for you to burst into tears of unadulterated joy.

Do not trust him, is all the Voice says in your head.

***

“…I leave you in the expert hands of your headwaiter, Taramis. Thank you all for coming, and I’ll see you all at the party.”

With a final curtsy, you leave the parlour, mouthing thanks to Taramis, who gives you a little bow in response before his army of servers swarms the guests to take in their choice of refreshments.

It has been exactly six months since your Dream Lord has taken you back to his castle. He had since tasked Lucienne to train you officially for your new royal position, which you had of course passed with flying colours. Your master, ever with his fondness of theatrics and grand gestures, insisted that he host a party to celebrate your official ascent as his princess-consort. He had made it clear that day that there’d be no room for arguments, especially from you. So, today, the entire Dreaming is in a festive mood, with the entire palace staff, and in extension, you, running around like a headless chicken to greet and accommodate guests he had invited from different realms across the entire universe.

The day had not even started, and you already couldn’t wait for it to end.

He wouldn’t like it, of course, when he finds out you’d been helping, but it isn’t like there’s much of a choice: you had woken early, and when you saw that some of the guests had started arriving early, you had pleaded with Morwyn to help you dress and not tell a word about it to the Dream Lord, and ran down so you could help in welcoming them – goodness knows Lucienne is already swamped with work as she always is. And it wouldn’t hurt at all to leave a good first impression, right?

Great. You’re now simping for royalty you don’t even know.

After ensuring that the first batch of guests has been well taken care of, you had to let your master know that some of his guests have arrived, as it’s only polite for the Dream King to greet them himself, as the grand host.

You had received word from a frantic Lucienne that the King had an audience he attended to in his office in the library. You had found it odd that he’d be receiving company in an office he barely used, but then again, his oddities are by now, completely normal to you.

You reach the office in question, slightly surprised to find the door slightly ajar. Inside, you could hear your master in a seemingly tense conversation with someone sounding so vaguely familiar.

“…I let you retrieve it because I knew you were mourning, brother. But to go as far as to keep it to yourself and hide it from me? You can’t just keep doing as you please with it,” says the familiar voice, firm and chastising.

“And yet, I believe we had an understanding that you are not to touch it, most especially not in my presence, dear sister,” comes your Dream Lord’s much harsher, biting tone.

A heavy silence passes between the two, and not wanting to eavesdrop any further, albeit unintentionally, you knock on the door to make your presence known.

“Enter,” comes the terse command of your Dream Lord.

“I’m sorry to interrupt –” you start to say as you push the door wider, only to stop dead in your tracks.

Lady Death, with her kind, wide smile, brushes past her brother to approach you and hugs you warmly in greeting. You couldn’t hug back in your surprise, but she seems to think none of it. She pulls away, still with that comforting gaze of hers as she gives you an affectionate stroke on your cheek.

“I am so glad to have finally met you, Mera. My little brother has told me all about you.”

****************************** Link to the next chapter

Author notes on the Chapter:

To the anon who sent an ask about Dream's POV, thank you for reminding me that I have been neglecting our dear Morphy's POV for quite some time now, so this smut in his POV is for you!! I hope I conveyed his thought processes properly!!

On a side note, two Endless??! What could possibly be going on?

Plot also keeps growing, I thought I had only up to 17 chapters for this fic, but now onto 19!! Who woulda thought lmao

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

Author's notes in general:

Thank you, THANK YOU for reading!!

Please engage, comment and reblog!! I love feedback from you guys :) This is my first ever fic, so kindness is truly appreciated!

Thank you to my queen @queenshelby @endlessdreamqueen3 for encouraging me to pen this, as well as to my fellow Dark!Morpheus writers whose work I have thoroughly enjoyed and keep rereading :)

Post date: 1/14/22

Edit date: 1/15/22

Taglist: Just lemme know please if you want to be added, too!

Tagging the following:

@wt-fxck

@sandman-33

@reallystressedhoneybee

@akiraquote

@safe-teycar

@ponyboys-sunsets

@izzicle

@spygrrl99

@intothesoul

@thecrazytealady

@tastyinspection8860

@kittenssss-blog

@trinittyy

@mxacegrey

@saraicus

@blu3what

@justporple

@emy635

@chantzmar

@dawnissunnysideup

@esmeralda-tupi

@ggxsan

Genuinely sorry if I fail to add blog names that have requested to be part of this list, I forget (not as much as Mera, but hey)

78 notes · View notes

griffin-wood · 29 days

Text

something new.

ps: just thought of it and now I'm yearning to write sum siblings dynamics, let's freaking go. also implied, rus x apollo; the babies. and the second gen of kaia. (also, rus is sarah's oc, ty for letting me explore them heehe) forgive the grammar mistakes, this is literally written immediately without no proofcheck. :") AND uni is killing me a little bit, but some..treats in between the stress cause sob, i hope ur well <3)

tags: @yakov-vasilyev @wayhavenots @ambrosykim

The day isn't too busy for one apollo zarneki, he sits by the counter and went through his recent read. Something about the folkloric tales, and finally continuing his reading of the illiad that he borrows from his dad. The scribbles and annotations in the book was special, as he reads and did some quick research during his downtime at work.

To him, working at a bookstore feels equivalent to living a simple life. He adores being surrounded by books, and from time to time; he find it endearing seeing couples and group of friends come in to discuss the books in between the shelves and nooks of his tiny little haven.

There's always an old couple would sit by the window of the shop, they both can be seen reading together, spending their mundane time together. He always longed for a love like that, someone that shared the same interest in books as he does, to whispers sweet nothings in between the bookcases and reading in each other's grasp. A dream he always wanted to reach, as he saw the dream can be possible through her parents, Kent and Maia. They made his believe that love was real, yet when he's close to finding it everyone just wanted something lesser than him, and it made him stop believing at some point. But, he never stops wishing for it despite his twin keep teasing him about it.

He continue to read his book, only to hear some sighs in between the shelves. He wonders if he can lend a helping help, as the book was left upside down to the place where he left off and makes his way to the shelves. A particular shelve was his location, where he saw a stranger, looking quite stressed in finding a particular book from the shelves.

"may I help you?" He smiles politely, trying his best to help a customer in need. Thankfully the store is not as busy as it always is at the moment.

The customer turns around with a small smile, the demeanor he's giving off to Apollo was a shy quiet looking fellow. "I'm looking for a particular.. tale of Deucalion and Pyrrha. Some friends of mine recommended to come here since the selection is..a lot."

His eyebrows raised in surprise, that's the first he heard someone ever been so specific.

"Duecalion and Pyrrha? That's the first actually I've heard someone acknowledge their existence." He quips in surprise but not in a bad way, it's the best surprise.

The stranger just smiles at that suprised as well at finding someone who is familiar, "It's actually for my thesis, I'm writing on the folklorian myths of the Greek Gods."

Now he's intrigue, as the golden retriever boy says excitedly "god, that sounds amazing. I would love to read your thesis someday!" And then he realizes, he's too excited. He mentally scolds himself at that and smiles.

The stranger seems shy by the outbursts but presented a small smile, as Apollo notices and mentally scold himself again and again. "I am so sorry for the outburst, but I think I know what exactly you're looking for."

Apollo immediately grabs the ladder and climbs on top of the shelves grabbing a particular book, that was written specifically on that tale. He managed to befriend with most of the indie book publishers and many of them manage to give some of the rare copies to his shop.

"I believe this is the one you're looking for." He passed the book to the customer, who's smile widens at the sight of the book. It seems like he hit the jackpot. He wants to say something more, but he couldn't help noticing how in the midst of six billion people in the world, he met someone who actually has something in common with him. He has to say something, he have to!

"and by the way, I'm Apollo, and fun fact, was named by one of the Greek gods." He introduces himself with a funny looking grin, as the customer finds it quietly endearing but his reaction didn't give it away.

"I'm Ruslan." He says softly, a polite tone from him made Apollo smiles. The silence that follow was a bit awkward, but he couldn't help but want to know more about him but there's this fear of actually looking overbearing and terrified of scaring him away.

"nice to meet you ruslan, and hey let me check the book out for you." He says and leads Ruslan to the counter, where Apollo begins to do his duty of the cashier of the quiet bookshop alone, as Ruslan notices the books on his countertop. The Iliad and the tales of Orpheus and Eurydice, and this particular edition was limited.

He notices Ruslan eye-ing the books, and he smiles at that. "I am still half way through the Iliad, Homer had too much to talk about apparently." His words seems to poked fun and tease as he made Ruslan chuckle quietly.

"Homer's thoughts were unique, but some historian does question the authenticity of it." Ruslan adds seemingly an expert in the area of study, making Apollo smiles at the familiar knowledge.

He passes the paper bag, after putting some freebies and bookmarks from his shop as Ruslan pays. He gives him one last smile before he disappears from the store, leaving an awe-struck Apollo sighing happily. He maybe has found a new crush, which is quite early to tell. But he hopes someday their paths will cross again.

After his shift is over, he made his way back home to his parents for the weekend since his siblings are finally coming back home. Atlas is back from a backpacking trip in Spain, and Maria is back from college for the week. While his own twin, is also back from her abroad adventures for the semester holidays.

"you're late for dinner." Atlas says as Apollo steps in the house, earning greeting from Kent and Maia as well.

"Forgive me brother, there was a whole accident by the side of town. I had to take a detour." He says happily before sitting by his twin, before nudging her at the shoulder.

"miss me?" He prompts to Ari with a grin.

As she rolls her eyes, "Nope, I already missed the London air."

"Good to have you back too, sis." He says smiling as they all ate the food together as a family.

Once the night has grown late, the siblings decide to have a movie night of their own. He is tucked in within the blanket of the couch but his thoughts still follows the customer from earlier, he hoped his thesis went well. And their conversation keeps on replaying in mind.

"earth to apollo!" His thoughts were interrupted by Maria looking worried and a grinning Ariadne.

"you okay?" Maria asks softly, her hand squeezing his shoulder a little.

He quietly sighs, "you guys can see right through me huh?"

"of course, one of us got telepathic powers, and i literally live with you in the womb. So, we do." Ari says, nudging him a little.

Atlas observes his little brother for a moment before chuckling, "somebody's got quite a new infatuation huh?"

The younger one feels his cheeks redden, as the girls break into laughter. "Oh my god, you are crushing on someone!"

"I am not!" "You are so, who is this new fantasy man of yours huh? Didn't Rooney from last month supposed to be a good lesson mister?"

Apollo feels his cheeks redden, as Maria just gives him a quick squeeze. Despite everything, he knew his twin came from a kind spot, its just what they did. The banter.

"Okay fine, there's...this guy. He literally knows one of the rarest greek myths and he was so cute!" He exclaims excitedly and sighs, remembering their little encounter.

"and what's the myth about?" Maria voices squeak in between the conversation, all of the siblings are filled with curiosity at this point.

"Deucalion and Pyrrha!"

Maria's eyebrows perk in intrigue, "i remember that one, dad mentioned it years ago."

Apollo nods excitedly at that, "I mean, maybe he's one of the many that knew...but, something about him. I feel like I can burst into song right now."

Atlas just shakes his head at that, as Ari rolls her eyes at the enthusiasm.

"Well, did you even try to get his number?" The twin quips in curiosity, before apollo shakes his head.

"I..well, I didn't think it through and panicked, so I didn't."

Atlas pats his back at that, "hey, maybe one day; you'll meet him again. All that fate and stuff happened to me and Jaime, maybe another miracle can happen to you too."

Maria pushes a strand of her hair before smiling, agreeing what Atlas is saying. Ari seems to be reluctant to agree, "Do you really think the guy's legit? What if its just another repeat Rooney."

At the mention of the cursed name, he shives slightly.

"Rooney was straight up, forgive my language. An arsehole." Maria agrees, as the guy in Apollo's past used him most than actually loving him.

"I believe this time would be different...it feels, different." He whispers slightly optimistic in his voice at that. He didn't know what to feel, since he's not a mind reader, or a future reader unlike his sister. But, something about this new guy, screams much better than Rooney ever would be.

Ari stares at him a moment, and knows how he always be. The optimism in the little guy never died. "Fine, I'll wish as well for the mystery guy to return. And also, what was his name?"

"Ruslan." He announces to the rest and sighs, maybe it can be something or nothing. But, he'll never know if he never tries.

And then, it happened. Fate was written within them once more, when he sees his familiar form in between the shelves of the bookstore. This is a sign, a sign of something bigger and better.

The start of something new, better.

THE END.

#alya writes #ruslan x apollo #KAIA GEN FIC DEBUTED RAHHH #they are the friends to lovers #i love them #i love rus and apollo ahhhhhhhh

4 notes · View notes

larcenywrites · 11 months

Note

I have it as a personal headcanon that Tony's like such good boyfriend/husband material cause like this man would treat his girl like a princess everyday. He tries to "win you over" everyday, doesn't matter that y'all have been together for 20 years, he makes you fall in love with him again and again everyday. He genuinely compliments you all the time, loves pampering you, gives you flowers regularly - even when it's not a special date - and he often makes sure to deliver the flowers himself! He asks you on date nights and still gets a shy smile when asking you for a date night just like the first time he did it. Says the cheesiest lines and says the most romantic thing all of a sudden, always surprising you. Loves taking his time during sex to give you all the pleasure he can - and loves to create a romantic atmosphere and spice things up every now and then! Always a charming gentleman overall (Maria did a good job raising him!). I want a Tony of my own so bad 😫🥺

Need me a Tony rn 😠😠😠😠 While he may have his flaws, he really does love his person! He probably still can’t believe that someone else wants to be in his house all the time and love him all the time?? Maybe it’s part of why he’s always wooing them over everyday and gives all he can. Is it his way of being grateful or still worried he needs to peacock his way around? Maybe a bit of both, but even so, he adores them and they deserve everything— which he can give! And he enjoys the pride in his chest when he can still get them flustered or when they hug him after he’s been gone. He loves to love, but now that he finally has it he wants nothing more than to keep it safe in a quiet and soft life where he can keep them pampered and pleased and hopefully as happy and loved as he is! He’s definitely a gentleman, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t manage to be nasty is a classy way 😉

Also I feel like Maria did manage to teach him manners, but he probably pick and chose when to act right, and only when acting one way or another would make his father mad tbh 🤧 he probably also thought Jarvis was just ✨cool✨ and probably learned from his interactions with the environment and people around him. And Jarvis was nice, so of course a small Tony was not only going to be nice back, but probably picked up on all the different ways and reasons he was nice. Tony wanted to be like him! And at a young age, didn’t necessarily understand who or what Jarvis really was.

And while he may not have ever liked his dad very much, Howard did treat Maria good and they seemed to love each other a lot! That was probably his only (admittedly high) standard of how love worked. Besides maybe Jarvis and his wife, and how, even though a younger Tony was sometimes scared of her 🤧, his love was always soft and unconditional.

#anon #anonymous #answered #larstalks

7 notes · View notes

txtmetonight · 3 months

Text

Washing Machine Heart

call summary˚ · • . ° . Childhood was known for its jovial nature and its world of pretend. But Choi Soobin seems to believe that the act of imagery continued its tricks forever on.

pairing *. * Choi Soobin x Fem! Reader

genre⋆ ★ Angst

warnings *. Crude Language, Heavy Drinking, Extreme Peer Pressure, Horrible Toxicity, Bad Grammar, Throwing Up

call duration⋆ ★ 6.6k

a/n*. * Bro ngl this was kind of hard to write...I also had to change the description a little but it's okkk trust and i accidently made soobin a little too toxic than i meant to but it's alr because I may write a pt2 to this?

taglist ⋆ ★ @kflixnet// @oreoqueen // @woncheecks//@probably-too-obssessed // @matcha-binz

The Mitski Diaries Masterlist

You’re going to be single for the rest of your life.

Well, you rather think since you wouldn’t exactly know the future, but a sinking gut feeling whispers it into your ear every night, enticing you with its venomous words that travel through your veins the moment you succumb to the dark cloud of despair. The sly tongue in your ear is more apparent than ever now as you hover over the toilet, spit dripping down your mouth as you gasp for air that you couldn’t catch before, eyes shut closed as your hand twitches over onto the counter.

After too many shots of whatever your friends deemed as close as possible to an actual overdose, you find yourself in a small, cramped bathroom with teal rugs and matching curtains to finish it off nicely.

“Holy shit” You groan, a pounding headache thrumming alive as you try to pull yourself up only to fail miserably, landing back on the floor again. Fingers stretching against the tiles and palms waiting for a familiar object, you try to find your phone so hopefully Chaewon has half of her mind to save you from this wretched bathroom. But when you can’t find it, your heart starts racing with sweat pouring down your forehead as your arms slide all over the place. “Fuck, Fuck, Fuck–”

“Hello? Excuse me? I think you may have dropped your phone!”

Three rapt knocks on the door make you freeze in your search, chest going up and down as you stare at the door in almost a look of wonder. “Is anyone there?” And that was all it took for you to scramble, throwing in a weak

“Yes, come in” as you try to slump against the wall. The door cautiously opens, revealing the very mysterious person–who just turned out to be someone you recall as Choi Soobin from your econ class. Very quiet and shy, you’ve noted.

In any other situation, you would’ve been so extremely embarrassed that you would’ve wished for the ground to swallow you whole, but you can’t find it deep inside yourself to care about it now. Not when his face contorts into a sheet-white look with raised eyebrows and a gaped mouth. The silence is deafening as you both ogle at each other, daring the other to break the tension just until the boy in front of you coughs weakly.

“I–I just found this by the hall...um are you okay?” He mumbles, eyes unable to meet yours when he hands you your device. You don’t answer him at first, not when your fingers glide over the surface of your device just to freeze up when you don’t see...anything. Like anything at all.

Just a photo of you and Chaewon with big grins. Furrowing your eyebrows, you take a long look at Soobin who gulps at your eyes staring at him. Gathering every single ounce of bravery his veins carried and the goodness of his heart, he manages to whisper out “Are you sure you’re, okay? "Once more.

“I’m fine.”

This time it’s his turn to pursue his lips, and you half-expect him to leave you alone and never talk to you again, but you’re shocked to see him pull out his phone. “What are you doing?” You groan, trying to get up once more, holding onto the towel rack for a better grip this time, but that doesn’t do much to help you as the metal rolls in the palm of your hands.

Rather what actually helps you is Soobin’s sudden hold on your waist...and you suppose his red blush. “I’m calling an uber,” He sighs, looking away from you. You tremble in his hold, which makes him clutch you a little tighter and all of a sudden, you're feeling shy with a slight frown on your face.

“I–thank you. You’re S–Soobin ri–oh fuck.” Lurching against him, he quickly ushers you to the toilet, and as if it was second nature to him, one hand pushes your hair away and the other soothes your back. whispering soft words while you violently retch up whatever you had left in your system. “

You know me?” he finally asks, gently patting your pat as you try to take in deep breaths, eyes closed and grimacing when you hear his very untimely question. “Holy shit, I feel like I've just been exorcised and at the same time thrown up all of my guts...and that’s what you focus on?” You pant. Soobin winces at your words before throwing an arm over your shoulder once your lungs stop burning from exhaustion and handing you a piece of gum that he fished from his jacket.

"I suppose that’s one way to put it. And don’t blame me! I’m just surprised that someone like you knew me–here put your hands over my neck, I’m gonna carry you.” You weakly shake your head at his words, but when he insists even more you don’t put up a fight to be carried by him. “What the hell does that even mean? Just cause I...I drink a lot or whatever, doesn’t mean I don’t know the names of my classmates.”

“Hello? I never said that. I’m not talking about whatever shitty name you’ve built for yourself. I don’t really care honestly–”

“You don’t care? Seriously?” You gasp, chills running down your back as the blood in your veins flows with intoxicated excitement. “I don’t. Why would I?” He snorts, “I don’t think that defines you as a person.” Your cheeks heat up and you think you’re about to cry because your stomach flutters in feelings you’ve never sought out before, feelings that you’ve locked up for so fucking long due to your own cowardice. “I see.” You murmur and quickly fall silent.

Throughout the many years you’ve ever had the inkling you even liked someone; you’ve known from the start that you’re a hopeless case. Who would want to date an alcoholic? “Not me!” many said. Perhaps they’re right, you spend your nights swallowing something new just for the sake of your friends.

A concoction that could kill you, you’re in dire risk every time a red solo cup gets shoved in your hands...just for your Chaewon. You’re an entertainer, you’ve concluded. A jester whose whole life goal is to live behind the mask of an alienated smile that has its own ambrosia of the bitter drinks that fail life systems. That’s the name–no empire (As Jake would say) you’ve gained.

So, you don’t blame yourself for indulging yourself in your beating heart, due to the man that’s currently carrying you right now. But you can’t get too involved, just a harmless crush.

“Hey why’re you so quiet? You didn’t fall asleep, did you?” He asks as he makes it into the hall that gives you access to the kitchen and the living room, where loud music still blasts out from the black speakers around you two. “Nope not yet. Just put me down here” You giggle, and you notice even in the ear-deafening music, that his breath stutters in his throat as he gives you a weak look, one with his big doe eyes and lips puckered into a pout.

He’s the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Stop laughing at me!” He glowers but he grows a small smile nevertheless, and soon enough you’re on his back snickering loudly along with him for no reason. “Fucking hell, why do you laugh like that!” He throws his head back onto your arms, locking eyes with you, smirk widening a little that it makes little flutters erupt in your guts. “What’s wrong with the way I laugh?” You question, leaning a little closer to him. He goes silent for a second, dragging his pupils down to every aspect of your face slowly, drinking you.

“Nothing. It’s just that–”

“(Y/n) where were you?” A voice startles both you and Soobin, as you both snap your faces forward to see Chaewon leaning against the wall for support, her voice raspy as she looks at you two. Soobin freezes under you, completely turning into stone and you quickly realize that he was embarrassed so you take the initiative to get off his back, stumbling a little as your feet hit the ground.

“Well?” She pushes and her eyes flicker up to the boy right next to you before they jump right back at you. “I was in the bathroom. Throwing up.” You grumble, looking up at Soobin heart jumping at of your chest when he avoids your stare, rather staring in front of him and near a picture frame that is right by Chaewon’s head. “Okay. Heeseung’s driving us back home, so you better hurry your ass up before he ditches us here.”

Her words are cold and impatient, but you don’t exactly mind, just a bit bashful at what Soobin was witnessing so you quickly try to wrap this up.

“Uh Soobin?” You utter, mouth growing dry when he looks straight into your eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for helping me today and...” Your chest palpitates quickly and before you know it, your mouth gets a will of its own. “And can you help me with econ? I–I don’t get the new unit” You whisper, eyes widening as you scold yourself, you’ve definitely ruined your chances now.

...Or not.

“Sure” He slowly smiles, looking back at Chaewon before he pulls out his phone, so you could put your number in. “I-” You stammer, taking his phone as a furious blush over comes your face, giving it back to him in record speed. You feel dizzy once more, but this time there’s electricity in your hands making you feel alive as you wave goodbye to him.

Toss your dirty shoes in my washing machine heart

Baby, bang it up inside

Just this once, you’ll give a chance to someone who isn’t Chaewon, perhaps someone who could cross the boundaries of platonic and romantic affection. Just once.

As a young child, you’ve dreamed and dreamt. Your mother used to say that you marveled greatly at your own desires with an open mouth and grabby hands that were reached passed their limits. “The reason you want something–anything, is because the future you will already have it,” She would say, placing gentle kisses on your forehead. Work hard, is what she preached. You found it quite ironic as she got most of her outcome from the different men she brought home, but you suppose keeping them long enough took quite the effort.

Now thinking about it, it’s been a while since you’ve heard from her, maybe you’ll give her a call someday when she hasn’t cast you aside for her new boyfriend, just 15 years older she reasoned.

And if she picks up, then you’ll tell her about the new boy that you like, the new boy that made you feel for things that you haven’t felt for years, the new boy that goes by the name Soobin. She’ll tell you advice excitedly (you imagine) and ramble about her day while you can’t stop daydreaming once again.

You think you’re turning fifteen again, with a knack for fit of giggles at anything slightly romantic and your pillow as your best friend while you recite your woes. Love has always been a hard topic for you, and much of it you couldn’t understand because you’ve never actually seen it with your mother.

Whether a simple crush was love or maybe someone you despised was considered infatuation, you suffered deeply at the hands of your feelings and that’s why you assume that you ache for true love. Paining for the admiration of love, you believe it comes in the form of the boy sitting right by your side.

Soobin, as much as he tried to deny it, was quite horrible at econ, but that was okay because study sessions that were supposed to be for you, turned into tutoring dates so he could bring up his grade. Every day, you would find yourself with him in your dorm, upon his request that he found comfort in your white walls plastered with pictures of you and your roommate, legs practically over each other as you both laugh about something new, unable to take your eyes off him.

Sometimes Chaewon would join under the pretense that she needed her own help in whatever marketing course she took and shared with Soobin, but soon enough a show would’ve been pulled up on any available computer, with three pairs of eyes watching it intently.

You think that you’re going to crash hard.

Especially when he treats you like you’re the only woman in his eyes; just someone so beautiful that he makes sure you’re happy. And you are so very happy that you think that you’re going to pass out. His soft smile brings you a wave of butterflies and the light brushes of his lips against your forehead makes you red.

And fuck he doesn’t judge. You indulge in more accounts of drinking, and he remains indifferent. You experience nausea, and his concern remains absent. You drift into slumber on his shoulder, and he remains unfazed. The task of escorting you home falls upon him, yet he doesn’t care one bit.

“I only care about you” He whispers one night, hands held tight against his chest while his other one rested on your burning cheek. “You’re so pretty it hurts.”

He likes you. You know.

I'm not wearing my usual lipstick

I thought maybe we would kiss tonight

Today, he invited you for stargazing under the moonlight.

And you’re pacing around the room with a panicked-stricken face as Chaewon watches amusedly. “I dunno why you’re worrying so much. He likes you.” She sighs, before her eyes narrow in onto your face, eyebrows furrowing in the process.

“Is that my lipstick?” You nod, running your fingers gently over your lips as you try to forget the image that stared back at the mirror, eyes raking over the alienated color on your mouth, trying to swallow down the bitter taste on your tongue. You look fine. “I’m sorry. He–he likes this color I think, said something about it before.” You murmur.

He did, and you remember as clear as day, when you showed him a cute picture of you and Chaewon, with the shape of her lips spattered all over your face with a bright hue that he truly admired because he had uttered out “That’s a nice color...it...it looks good on you.” And your heart fluttered as his eyes never left the picture.

“I see.” She says and then smiles before she gets up from the couch to pat your shoulder and sighs “Good luck, and I’m happy for you” while she walks back to her room, leaving you all alone in the living room. The bell rings soon after and Soobin’s at the door with a small picnic basket and a bouquet.

“I’m pretty sure that constellation is Orion? I dunno they all look the same to me!” Soobin cries, flopping his back onto the small blanket he brought, a great smile on his face while he watches you giggle at him. Two juice boxes lay next to you with a large textbook sat in the middle of the two of you, flipped to a random page of illustrations about the various stars that littered the night sky.

It was cool and chilly, so on your shoulders perched Soobin’s leather jacket that he insisted you to wear because he didn’t want you to get sick. Silence befalls upon you two as you both look at the stars; though you’re not looking up.

Soobin perhaps was the most ethereal man you’ve ever seen. So, so, humble with a sweet smile that lit up your inside with fair, pitch black hair, and glowing eyes that stun you in place. He runs warm when he hugs you, flush against his chest where he’ll hold you for a few more seconds than needed.

He’s sweet like candy. And you’re falling in love.

“You alright sweetheart?”

Startled, you turn your lips when he chuckles at your reaction, nodding softly. Ogling at you, Soobin slowly creeps his hand to yours, taking it into his with a tight squeeze. You’re absolutely breathless with him. Soobin lifts his torso back up, sighing at the way the jacket on your back slides down. His fingers crawl up to your shoulder to adjust, but he’s only looking at your face when he does it, and his hand lingers there longer than it should.

He’s close. So close that you can see his chest flit and his lip's part halfway. Your fingers move to dig into his skin, quavering nervously when he moves to be face-to-face with you completely.

“No. I think I like you.” You breathe and lean closer. His body moves to your accord, eyes shutting close with jumpy eyebrows that shake. You like him so much it hurts...

So, when his hands find themselves tangled in a lock of your hair, softly pulling your head back, you stare at him confused. What happened?

He likes you. You’re not sure.

Baby will you kiss me already and

Toss your dirty shoes in my washing machine heart?

“Soobin?” You gasp, pulling away from his grasp, eyes widening at the way he stumbles, his fingers curling in and out on his lap as his pupil’s flicker. Down to your lips. Up to your nose. Down to your lips. Up to your eyes. Down to your lips. Up to your hair. Down to your lips.

“I–I–” Soobin stutters, properly taking in your face, gulping nervously. “Do you not like me back?” You breathe, trembling. His jacket suddenly feels like a layer of ice over your skin.

“It’s okay.”

“No–no, I just...I just...” He looks down at your lips again, staring at them. And then he surges forward to kiss you, tugging you into him. You gasp against his mouth, nails digging into his shoulder as you fall onto him. He doesn’t leave any space for you to breathe and the air in your throat has left you with tears prickling at your waterline.

You’ve wanted this since the moment he left you with his number, so why does it feel so wrong. It feels dirty, unmatched, you suppose. Yet you don’t let up, reciprocating, when your guts churn in pity.

The moonlight shines down upon you, perhaps it’s laughing at the both of you. Your desperate attempts at romance, maybe?

He finally pulls back, taking a deep breath, and says, “Will you be my girlfriend?”

Soobin doesn’t meet your eyes, when you say yes.

Baby, bang it up inside

“Hey, love!” And that’s all it took for you to start grinning, turning around to meet your boyfriend, who looked equally excited as you, a rather joyous glimmer on his face. A small cafe that the both of you were happy to call your own from the many times you’ve frequented the place; more you than him since he tended to be quite busy recently.

“Hi!” He places a chaste kiss on your cheek, a little too quickly than you would’ve liked, but it’s alright you suppose when he sits across from you, enveloping his cold hands over yours.

“How were your classes today?” You ask, smiling brightly when he lays his head dramatically down on the table. Soobin’s now blonde with the upcoming winter, and he looks wholly more like an angel. Chaewon agrees.

“They were okay. English was horribly boring though.” You chuckle, bringing his hand up to kiss softly, but you’re caught red-handed by your server as he brings you, your order of two cappuccinos, strawberry cake, and a warm Cheese Danish. Seungmin grimaces and you flush, waving him off, just to see Soobin staring at him with a small frown on his face. “Who is that?”

“Someone who works at this restaurant. Go on tell me more about your day,” You sigh. Soobin takes a moment of silence to stare at Seungmin while you’re slowly getting uneasy, pulsing his hand to grab his attention. “I barely even know who he is.” You feel bad for lying, and his next words deepen the guilt, furthermore, thrusting a silver knife into your heart. “He was smiling at you like he wanted you baby, you’re mine, right?”

“I–of course!” You swallow, eyebrows furrowing when he takes a bite of the strawberry cake you had ordered for yourself. “Anyways Bio wasn’t any different, but it was a little better. And–oh! Heeseung had invited us to his party for not failing his writing paper or whatever, but I’m pretty sure that’s just another excuse.” He grins, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You don’t notice his smile falter when you start laughing though. “I mean that’s a great idea and I totally would be on board...but I was hoping that we could sit this one out. You know I’ve been trying to manage my drinking.” You lower your voice at the end, almost like you were ashamed. “You’ve been doing so well recently. Please come with me.” He sighs, pinching his nose.

“So, if I don’t come, you’ll still go? I thought you promised to spend time with me today?

“That’s why I’m asking you to come with me. It’s not my fault if you don’t feel like going with me” Soobin sneers, taking a drink from his cup. Yours has gone cold. “But–”

“You’ve been going to parties for your whole life! I haven’t. And I... I just got a taste of how it would be to be wanted. I just got invited by the host himself! Do you know how important that is for me?”

You curl into your seat as sweat flourishes your back. “Are you calling me selfish?” You waver, chest trembling while you try to hold back tears. “No of course not!” He scoffs loudly and you’re happy that there’s no one else in the vicinity; Seungmin must’ve left to give you guys’ space.

“I just...please?”

Your bottom lip gets stuck underneath your teeth as you stare at your thighs. You were feeling sorry, sorry that he was feeling this way. “Okay, sure.”

Soobin nods, “Will you be coming?”

“No.”

And that was all. The conversation had ended, and it had become silent again except for the swinging of the front door, letting more customers in. Soobin had succumbed to his phone, typing furiously, and it makes you curious what it was when he bites back a laugh. “I got a hundred on my physics test.

The one that I was studying really hard for.” He looks at you. “That’s great. You deserve it.” And then he snaps his head down. Letting out a deep sigh, you finish your coffee and the half-eaten cake as you look around, catching Seungmin’s concerned eyes, which you quickly avoid, by shutting your eyes.

Baby, though I've closed my eyes I know who you pretend I am

“Hey baby, could you send me your notes from Marketing today? Jake just texted me that we had a test on whatever we wrote down today, and I fell asleep.” Body jolting and your throat contracting for air, you don’t open your eyes, as you croak, “Who are you talking to?”

It’s quiet. So, you look up and Soobin’s awkwardly coughing, sheepishly rubbing your arms. “I forgot you weren’t in my class. I was–I’ll ask Chaewon.” You nod at his words, lips shaking.

Your heart aches, when he excuses himself, leaving you alone with your emotions.

Soobin had actually gone to the party. He left you in your dorm, wearing a white button down, a leather jacket, and his jeans that you gave him for your sixth month anniversary.

You’re just wearing your night dress and currently on the couch watching a shitty show that you weren’t paying attention to. Instead, you were chewing on your nails, staring at your phone that you left next to you.

“You’re so cute.” Soobin coos, pinching your cheeks, while you grumble, ears beginning to turn into tomatoes (either from the heat or from your boyfriend you weren’t sure). Screams and laughter emitted everywhere, after all, Soobin had insisted on taking you to an amusement park as a date and you two were able to find a photo booth to squeeze yourselves into.

“Oh, fuck off,” You pout but click the start button on the screen, pulling him close to you as you both grin at each other, with you seated on his lap.

Three pictures...and on the last one you had pulled him into a deep kiss, melting into him.

It was your new background for your phone, because it was honestly your favorite moment in your life; just being next to your lover.

Tears start to well up, but you refuse to let them fall. You think Soobin’s getting bored of you, and it hurts. It hurts so much it tears you apart. He deserves someone better...but you just can’t leave him and So you try so hard.

Work hard to have him by you, ‘change for the better’ you say to yourself. Clutching yourself against the blanket, you notice what you were wearing that day with Soobin; one of Chaewon’s pink skirts. Your mood falls even deeper. As of now, you’ve been borrowing your friend’s stuff a lot more.

She’s nice so she lets you with a cute smile, but every time you wear something of hers, you feel the clothing detach itself from you as if it didn’t belong on your skin. Maybe she wears different fabrics than you usually would buy.

Who were you kidding.

Unlocking your phone, you click on Insta for posts that could update you about what was happening at Heeseung’s million-dollar residence that he got from his daddy. You smile as a picture of Seungmin posing in a small alley pops up, which you like before you scroll down, cheeks dropping instantly at the next post.

Turning to the fridge, you shake your head to grab a can of beer. You were doing better, and you will be okay. Soobin’s words from earlier echo in your mind. You direct your attention down to the caption which says nothing except Chaewon's username. You click on her profile for more pictures.

Though there’s nothing, except for the one that she posted a week ago.

Clicking on the post that you’ve already liked (You like to be the first one on the post, just before your boyfriend) your eyes traverse down to her caption.

“Love my boys blonde <;3”

You think you’re sick to your stomach.

Turning off your phone, you stare at the ceiling in time for Soobin’s wild entry into your dorm, scaring you as he stumbles with loud steps that force you to come to his aid. Carefully taking him into your arms, you drag him into the kitchen for a glass of water.

“How much did you have to drink?” You scold, kissing his forehead tenderly. He leans into you, snuggling his head into the crook of your neck. “Only like a–a–a few shots, Chaewon.” Soobin giggles, tickling your sides a little. You're not ticklish, but your best friend is, so you squirm and laugh while white pearls streak down your face.

I know who you pretend I am

Today marks the first time that he’s called you by another name. And it certainly wasn’t the last.

You decide to grab a can of beer once you put him to sleep.

Soobin had soon enough become friends with the group you frequently hung out with; your own friends. At the beginning of dating him, you perceived him as a quiet introvert who kept to himself and would rather watch anime while eating nasty oily pizza from down the street.

And you used to be right. You can barely even recognize the man in front of you, laughing loudly with Sunghoon, leaving you to shove yourself between bodies while holding yours and Soobin’s drinks, trying not to spill them.

“Hey (Y/n)!” Seungmin, waves his arm, smiling brightly when you try to reciprocate. You open your mouth to yell back at him, but you're quickly taken aback when a familiar hand places itself on your shoulder, turning you around to face whoever it is.

“Jake...” You say, blinking as he whisks you away towards the rest of your group, and you think you can feel your lunch up in your throat. “It’s been so long since we’ve seen you (Y/n), we’ve missed you.” You curse under your breath, trying to pull away, but give up when his grip tightens.

“I’m not going to drink tonight.” Without looking up, you can see Jake’s mouth curled into a disappointed frown. “Why not, you’re not driving are you?”

“I am.” You lie but he just laughs instead, patting your back gingerly. “Liar. You still drove anyway, whether you were drunk or not. You’ve changed (Y/n) after getting a boyfriend. You’re now boring. Booo,” He puts down his thumb, nose twitching when you don’t join in his teasing.

“Oh my god (Y/n)! You’re finally here, tell your boyfriend to get off me” Chaewon squeals, pushing Soobin towards you. You’ve taken your eyes off him just for a few minutes and he’s already clinging onto her.

Do mi ti Why not me?

You don’t think you blame him though.

Before you know it, you’re pushed into a circle of your friends, all nursing or shoving down some sort of drink. You can’t breathe and everything’s closing in on you.

Nervously looking for Soobin for some kind of comfort, you find him closing the shape around you, laughing when you start trying to reach for him. “She’s so clingy,” He says to Chaewon, expecting her to agree with him but she just stares at you pitifully. She knows what’s going to come next.

“Alright (Y/n), the first drink of the night!” Sunghoon hands you a red solo cup, with sloshing liquid that appears in a strange color, filled more than halfway. Gripping the cup in your hand, you try to push it away. “I’m not drinking that. What if I die dickwads!” You cry, giving it back to every person just to be shut down.

“You won’t, don’t worry; you’re already used to it bitch” Someone screams. That hurt. Swerving around, you realize that only your boyfriend and Chaewon weren’t trying to egg you on, rather Chaewon held something remorseful, and Soobin looked scared, as if he was going to come forward and tug you out. But he doesn’t.

“Chug it! Chug it! Chug it!”

It was like a chain reaction. When Jay started chanting it, hair flailing wildly, it only took Chaewon a few seconds of consideration before she too said it (she was in love with him), albeit more quietly though. Surprisingly, it took Soobin longer for him to imitate the others and you feel happy at the thought of it.

So, you take a deep breath and swallow it in one go, the alcohol burning your throat while cheers go all around you. People slap your back and give you another cup. And then another. And then another. You start to gag though, midway, and Soobin has the sense to tell the others to give you a break, holding your hand in his before, peppering your face with kisses.

It’s loving, and you understand why you cherish Soobin so much. Why you can’t leave him. But sometimes you lay alongside him in his dorm and wish you could give him someone else; give him Chaewon herself.

After a long while, you’re finally alone; everyone else has gotten bored and left to dance. But you’re just there, hiccupping on the ground as you try not to pass out. Everything around you seem to swim around, and the people are fish, scouring the water. Tears stream down your face, burning as they stain your clothes. Someone had the courtesy to place water near you, which you slowly try to sip trying not to throw up.

“What the fuck, Soobin. I’m not (Y/n)!” Chaewon’s irritated gruff reaches your ears as you try to peek at what is going on. The music drowns out your boyfriend’s voice, but you have a good guess at what he was saying when Chaewon points in your direction. He looked extremely drunk again, probably even more than you as he tried to sit on the ground with you.

“Hi.” You whisper, pulling him into a hug. He accepts it gratefully, flopping his whole body on you to carry.

“Do you think Chaewon likes me?” Soobin mumbles, sniffling and then you notice him crying, eyes rimmed with red while he stares at you. Your fingers go to scratch his head, shaking to hold back a heavy sob. Everything aches and you just want it to stop, but hearing Soobin break down in your arms was worse, so you stay strong.

“I love y–you.”

His chest cracks when he looks at you confused, lips gaping like a fish when you smile at him and kiss him, pulling apart so he can say what was on the tip of his tongue.

“(Y/n) what are you–”

“Shhh, It’s Chaewon baby.” You shove your lips on his again and let him close his eyes.

Why not me?

‘It’s okay’ You reason. You will both forget it in the morning anyways.

The weather was beginning to get colder, so you and Soobin decided to stay home and have a baking date to keep warm. Soft music ran in the background, while you two got the ingredients out for whatever Soobin had found on Pinterest that day would satisfy his sweet tooth. And being sweet enough, he tells you that whatever you two were going to make was going to be something you liked. A lot.

“My favorite?” You tease, wiping your hands on his face, dodging his measly hits. “Yes, babe.” He rolls his eyes and rolls out the unknown dough that he made earlier, while you get whatever he pointed towards. You weren’t great with baking, so you didn’t exactly help him out in the actual field, but it’s the thought that counts.

“Is it strawberry pie?” You ask, poking his sides. “Nope.”

“How about sugar cookies?” He chuckles and shakes his head. “Then we would’ve had the cookie cutters out.”

You nod and sadly sigh, “I’m not much help, am I?” His lips curl into a smile before he turns around and pulls you into a hug, getting powder all over your shirt. “It’s alright, go ahead and sit down, I’ll be done in a few and we can watch whatever you want.” His words make you giggle as you grab the remote and turn off the music.

Just as he said, he doesn’t take long and soon enough he’s snuggling into you, watching you click through various shows on Netflix to watch.

“Once we have our fill of whatever I’m making, let’s give some of them Chae.” He sighs, interrupting your intense stare-down with the screen. You don’t bother to pause the movie when you ask, “Since when did you call Chaewon by Chae?” He pretends to think before saying “Dunno.”

“How come you don’t have a nickname for me?” You bite the inside of your cheek as he looks at you. “Because I didn’t know you wanted one? Is baby not enough for you?” Trying not to pop the playful mood, you slap his chest. “It is! I was just curious that’s all.”

“Okay. The tarts are almost done, I’ll get them out of the oven.” He presses a soft kiss on your nose, before getting up once more to check on the desserts, while you amusedly laugh. “So, they’re tarts huh? What kind?” You crack up even more when you hear him curse in the kitchen with a sad face on display, which makes you get up and help him get the plates out. “I messed up right? Now you must guess what flavor they are!”

You scoff at him, “That’s your fault though!” But nevertheless, you take the tart that he offers from his hand and sniff it, peering at him through your lashes. “Come on baby, take a bite. They’re your favorite flavor” He winks at you.

The taste that your tastebuds collect is definitely not your favorite flavor. Furrowing your eyebrows, you recognize the flavor as something you didn’t...prefer as much. “Cherry” You choke out, swallowing down the bits and pieces when his face finally lights up.

“Is it good?”

“Absolutely” You’re bluffing completely. You take another bite and the vile taste hits stronger as you get to the center. It’s supposed to be a joyous moment–Soobin certainly thinks so as he hums around to get the rest of the sweets out, but you can’t feel the fuzzy feeling of endearment anywhere.

There was a reason that you and Chaewon were friends, opposites attract, has always been the motto between you two. You liked reading, but she hated it. She liked cherries, you hated them. You adored strawberries instead. But you don’t tell that to Soobin. Instead, you watch him ramble about Chae in a sweet voice that sends you spiraling, not in a good way though.

You wonder if you will start forcing yourself to like cherries from now on.

Do mi ti Why not me? Why not me?

It’s currently dark and you can’t stop squirming around in bed, unable to get any sleep for your eye bags that worsen as the days go by. The clock reads one-thirty, February eleventh...it’s almost valentine’s day.

Soobin isn’t asleep either as he too keeps turning and tossing, ruffling the pristine sheets underneath him. It’s tranquil with the way that the moon filters in through the curtains and the soft rumbles that the AC gives off, but you know that there’s a storm rampaging through both of your heads, waiting to implode the brain.

Your boyfriend’s first.

“Why?” He croaks out into the dead of night, turning his head to look at your back, which stutters and rolls up into itself. “Why what?” You’re not dumb, you know that he knows about you, about how you try so fucking hard. Your mother’s words fill you with hope, each and every time you think about giving up, that he’ll be yours in the future. Soobin’s body turns over and he manages to lay his leg across your thigh, his mouth just under your ear.

“Why do you keep hurting yourself?” Soobin understands that you don’t actually have an answer to that, but he’s curious, sadder actually.

You shrug. “I love you.”

“I know.”

“But you don’t love me.”

“I also know that” He says, placing a kiss on your neck, making you shiver into him.

“I’m sorry, that I can’t be her.” You breathe, pulling his arms further around you. “It’s alright. You tried.” He pauses before continuing. “I’m sorry for not being a better lover.”

“You can’t control who you love. And you just happen to love her.”

Do mi ti

The bright numbers change rather slowly as you’re in his arms, but you don’t really mind.

“I love Chaewon,” He says and forcefully turns you around and places a firm kiss on your head, while your heart breaks silently against his beating one. “You’ll stay by me forever?” Soobin asks, pulling away to look at you. You’re not sure if you’re supposed to answer as yourself or as Chaewon but it doesn’t matter when both voices have the same answer.

“Forever.”

You really wish you were her, though.

Why not me? Why not me?

29 notes · View notes

akaraboonline · 1 year

Text

Pay Attention to These 7 Subtle Ways Shy People Flirt!

Is that a smile or a grimace he's giving me? Is she staring at the clock over my head or at me across the room? Is he making out with me? Do I even understand flirting? Pay Attention to These 7 Subtle Ways Shy People Flirt! Sometimes it seems as though the quiet men in our lives are keeping a poker face on their emotions. They make no revelations. But do they? Perhaps the key is to pay close attention to the small nuances to detect any flirting on the other person's part. You're probably the target of some light flirting if your shy girl is doing a combination of them. I sought out the thoughts of some shy folks in order to properly grasp the mysterious shy guy. Let's start this now.

How shy people flirt

1. They're all about subtle gestures. He won't be playing Peter Gabriel's "In Your Eyes" loudly from a boombox outside your window. Here, subtlety is crucial. Maybe from across the room she's grinning at you. I'm trying to look at you, but I'm looking away. Do you notice how frequently your bashful girl stoops down and exposes her behind? Then you should go and collect it since she might be using it as a mating call. Just kidding, don't grab somebody without their permission. 2. They may be extremely awkward (at first). Stuttering and unrestrained laughter that is inappropriate for the discourse are examples of this. For example, "Someone came up to me and complimented me, and instead of replying with a normal "Thank you," I responded I was actually hotter than I appeared and nearly passed out" are examples of awkward language that can be used. Simply accept the awkwardness. In any case, the blush that results is lovely. What method do shy people use to practice flirting? Of course, unwittingly flirting. 3. They may stammer or get nervous. Hey, how's it going? you might ask. This innocent welcome is met with blank stares, oblique honking noises, and a slight stammer. My sweetheart, you've frightened your timid one. This can indicate that they like you. It's also possible that he simply finds speaking uncomfortable. People that are shy are difficult. 4. They're more comfortable flirting with you online. You can wish to test whether your shy individual can relax more online or through text communication than in person. They won't create any audible heart palpitations when they click "like" on things, retweet, or make big statements. This may reduce the strain. If your shy individual is anything like mine, he might take some time to write you a thoughtful reply. If he doesn't reply right away, don't assume that he believes you to be Jabba the Hutt just yet. 5. They don't like to talk about themselves. When you try to discover more about this shy Bobby, you can feel like you're trying to herd a group of cats. He can find the focus on himself to be incredibly uncomfortable. Instead, he will inquire about your activities, thoughts, and other things. It's a tactic he uses to keep you talking and participate in the conversation without having to introduce himself. Quite tricky. 6. They "accidentally" touch you. These could be signs of flirting if your shy guy seeks methods to touch you inconspicuously on the shoulder, hand, or by brushing up against you. See how he interacts with other people to be on the safe side. Some people have an inherent ability to touch. 7. They open up when drinking. I'm not suggesting that your quiet individual is the town drunk, and I'm not at all suggesting that you let him get completely inebriated. Raj from "The Big Bang Theory" comes to mind. He couldn't talk to girls unless he had a beer, and after that his words began to flow effortlessly. Even my shy guy feels uncomfortable in social settings, but after a drink, he seems a little less self-conscious. When you're out with friends and there is alcohol present, observe how your crush reacts to your flirting. Don't let him keep smashing shots, once more. Simply sloppy and incorrect, As you're trying to make a love connection with the elusive shy person, remember that they may just be waiting for a chance to tell you how they feel. Alternatively, he might be unsure of how to say, "I enjoy you. How do I like you? "without sensationing like an absolute douche boat. Ask if you're still undecided and everything else fails. It may be a nail-biter because I know you're a little bashful, but someone has to make everything very plain. Why not take the initiative and make that person yourself? Read the full article

0 notes

bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky · 2 years

Note

Hope! I had a thot..

What if the reader meets Jesus/Wakanda Bucky, and they start off as just friends because he’s kinda shy and still working with the Dora Milaje to get his mind fully back.. but one day maybe the two of them are walking around Wakanda and he decides to finally make a move 🥰

Oh, I LOVE this! Thank you for the suggestion! :)

Our Spot | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Thank you to @everything-burns-down for yet ANOTHER excellent suggestion! I had so much fun writing this, and I hope you like it :)

As always, send any comments, questions, or suggestions my way!

Tag list: @beefybuckrrito, @everything-burns-down, @shadytalementality, @rainbow-unicorn-pony, @mandersshow, @emetophilily

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

"Sargeant Barnes?" you called.

A quiet groan rumbled out of Bucky's chest and he stood up, dragging his eyes away from the Wakandan sunset.

"Bucky", he corrected gently.

"Oh, shit. Right. I'm sorry”.

Examining each and every detail of him, you couldn't believe that this man had at one time been the feared- the infamous- Winter Soldier. His deep blue eyes betrayed a deep sadness, a sadness that colored every attempt he made at a smile. Regardless of his years of torment and abuse, he still had one of the kindest faces you'd ever seen and you wondered how that was even possible. His now-long chestnut hair took on a golden glow in the sunset, and he kind of looked like... Jesus? You'd noticed his resemblance to the Messiah the second you met him, but it was an observation you'd decided to keep quiet.

He looked tired- exhausted actually. He spent almost every waking moment either working with the Dora Milaje or being put through tests in Shuri's lab. And now here you were, disturbing one of his few peaceful moments.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, I just, um, wanted to see how you were doing?"

His brows pulled together and he cocked his head to the side, confused.

"I just mean- I know that this work is really hard on you. It's none of my business and I'm just a lab tech, so stop me if I'm overstepping but...I just wanted to check in on you".

A small but genuine smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Oh, um. That's- no, you're not overstepping. That's nice of you," he stammered. "I'm...okay".

It was definitely a lie, but you didn't want to push him. Eavesdropping in Shuri's lab everyday, you knew he'd been suffering from night terrors, paralyzing panic attacks, guilt that ran a mile deep, and the fear that he may never be able to trust his own mind. But his answer sufficed for the moment. He seemed like such a warm person under his shy exterior, and you wanted to get to know him. He deserved a friend, and you wanted to be that for him but you knew you had to be patient. After everything he'd been through, it wasn't easy for him to be vulnerable around new people, so you'd wait as long as you had to.

Over the next few weeks, you made an effort to get close to him: Saying hello to him in the lab, sharing your snacks with him, telling him all about your family back home in the states. He opened up to you when you shared personal details about yourself, returning the gesture by telling you about his sister, Rebecca.

It all came to fruition when Shuri wasn't available for a few days, her princess duties taking precedent over her work with Bucky. It was you who she'd put in charge of Bucky's brain, and you hoped that he'd feel comfortable enough to work with you.

"Oh, hey...where's uh-where's Shuri?" he'd asked as he walked into the lab, his hair falling in his face.

"King T'Challa actually needs her for a few days", you told him cautiously, "so she left me in charge".

Studying Bucky's face, you waited for his expression to change into one of displeasure or disappointment, but it never did.

Instead, that small, genuine smile crawled across his lips once again and he sat down in the chair across from you, ready to get to work. Before you could start on the big stuff, you noticed that he was pushing his hair out of his face almost constantly.

"Hang on, can I...?" you offered, showing him a ponytail holder you kept on your wrist. He thought about it for a second before nodding, giving you permission to help him out. "I tried a few times, but you know, I only have the one arm now, so..." his voice trailed off and one of his signature sad smiles made an appearance.

"Good thing I'm here then," you murmured as you pulled his hair into a half up-half down bun. "There. Looks great," you said proudly, making your way back to your seat.

A sheepish look crossed his face and you saw a flash of blush fill his cheeks, "thank you".

Grabbing Shuri's tablet, you began accessing Bucky's file before taking a pause and looking up at him. "Is this okay?" you asked, "I have to look at your files and I just-"

A pang of anxiety hit him in the chest as he realized you were about to find out all the bloody, gory details of his years as the Winter Soldier. He knew that in order to help him, you had to know everything- but he didn't want his new friend being scared away by what he'd done all those years. With reluctance, he nodded.

"No judgement," you promised, "I'm just here to help".

Over the course of the day, you learned a lot of things about Bucky's Hydra years that threatened to make you cry- the only way you resisted giving in to the tears was by reminding yourself that you crying over his past would probably make him very uncomfortable. When the day was finally over, you put away Shuri's tablet and knew you should let Bucky go- but you just had one question for him.

"Hey, um, real quick...what's your pain level like?"

It took Bucky by surprise, he hadn't expected anyone to ask him about pain caused by losing his arm over seventy years ago. "Oh. Umm. It's not bad. But it's not...comfortable. Why do you ask?"

"Well I just know that the initial, um...injury was really traumatic for your shoulder" you began, almost regretting bringing it up. "And then the removal of the remainder of the joint wasn't done with much care". He nodded and you watched him experience horrifying flashbacks from his fall and his subsequent 'surgery' under Hydra.

"And we both know Stark wasn't gentle with Cap's shield in Siberia..." you continued. "So I was just wondering, I know how bad scar tissue can hurt, especially when the area experiences trauma over and over."

He nodded and a deep, sad sigh left his lips. "It doesn't hurt all the time- when I was the um, the Winter Soldier, I didn't even acknowledge the pain. I couldn't. But ever since I've been back in my own brain, I've noticed that it aches. A lot. And it's been worse ever since Siberia..."

You felt tears threatening to fill your eyes once again as Bucky spoke about his pain- he never deserved any of it.

"Well, I don't know if you'd be interested in this, but I'm really familiar with scar massage" you offered. "I had a pretty intense surgery a few years ago and the scar was so painful. My physical therapist showed me how to make it better. Just an offer, though. No pressure".

Being touched wasn't something Bucky was super comfortable with yet; he still flinched every time someone reached out to him, no doubt a lasting side effect of his abuse under Hydra.

"Thank you" he muttered, giving you that small smile you'd begun to love so much. "Can I walk you home?"

Your heart fluttered at his offer, and that's when you realized. "Shit" you thought, "I can not have feelings for this man". But the chance to spend even more time with him as he walked you back home was just too appealing, so you took him up on it.

After that night, the two of you fell into a routine for months: you'd fix his hair so that it wasn't in his face and then the two of you would work in the lab-with Shuri, of course. After the lab you'd grab dinner and take it to his favorite spot to watch the sunset together. He'd always walk you home, giving you a sweet, one-armed hug that lasted a little longer each day.

It was early one Saturday morning when a light knock on your front door pulled you away from your coffee. Opening the door, you saw Bucky standing in front of you, his face tense. "Hey, Buck. Everything okay?"

"No, not really. I was up all night and I uh, I wanted to take you up on your offer- if it's still on the table" he said with a weak smile.

Instantly, you let him in and directed him to the couch. The warm expression he usually wore around you was gone, and replaced by a pained grimace that broke your heart. "Hurts really bad, huh?" you asked, and all he could do was nod.

"Okay, um, I'm gonna need you to take your shirt off first…"

Bucky's heart sank. He knew that he needed to give you access to his scar in order for you to work on it, but he hated the sight of it and he didn't want the woman he was secretly in love with to be disgusted by the gnarly reminder of his torment. Sensing his trepidation, you slowly reached out and took his large, warm hand in yours.

"I know you don't like how it looks, but I promise you I won't be freaked out" you whispered. "I just want to help".

He was silent for a moment, and seriously considered getting up and leaving, until a sharp ache brought him back to reality. With a nod, he swiftly pulled off his shirt and dropped it to the floor. His eyes traveled toward the ceiling as he laid down on your couch, avoiding eye contact with you as you took in the sight of his scar.

You'd never seen it before, and it felt like you and Bucky had made a big step forward in your relationship now that you had. Your eyes traveled the length of the thick, pink scar, following it from the end of his clavicle to the top of his ribcage. It looked rough and choppy and you hated the Hydra bastard who had done such a shit job removing Bucky's shoulder. It was slightly red in certain places, signifying that Bucky had tried to massage it himself.

"I know it's kinda gross, I'm sorry" he muttered, dragging you out of your silent observation. "I promise I wouldn't be asking you to do this if it it weren't absolutely killing me".

Gently, you placed a hand on the scar and stroked it lightly with your thumb. "It's not gross, Buck. It's just a scar. And I'm more than happy to help. I just wish you would've come to me with this last night...did you try to work on it yourself?"

He groaned and nodded. "It didn't go well...I made it way worse".

"Alright, promise you'll come to me next time? No matter what time it is?"you stroked the scar, banishing the pain for a short moment.

"Promise" he murmured, and his warm smile finally returned.

"Okay, good. I'll be right back".

Quickly enough that Bucky couldn’t change his mind, you ran to your room to grab your vitamin E oil. "I'm gonna apologize in advance if I hurt you at all" you said as you placed a few drops of oil across the scar. "If you need me to give you a break or stop altogether, just let me know".

He nodded and took a deep breath. The anxiety he felt about you touching him so intimately rose up in his chest and it took everything in him to stay put.

Carefully, you worked your way across the scar, taking it in small sections to ensure the whole thing got the attention it needed. You were as gentle as you could be but Bucky still winced every now and then. His general discomfort with being touched-especially in a spot he was so self conscious about- only added to the occasional grimaces that appeared across his face.

You wanted to get his focus somewhere else in the hopes that he'd think less about his pain, so you tried to get him talking. "Hey, what's your favorite movie?"

He hesitated before answering, "Um, I don't know. I haven't seen a movie in-well, I haven't really had the time" he joked.

"Oh, right. Um, favorite book?"

And that was all it took. He started on a nuanced soliloquy about things he'd read as a child, his favorite books before the war, and the novels he'd read during his downtime overseas. He lit up as he talked about his favorite fictional worlds, and you couldn't help but smile down at him with adoration.

"Alright, I think that's enough for today," you said as you finished up a spot near the top of his ribcage. Bucky looked at you with surprise, almost not believing that you'd taken his mind off of things.

"Wow," he said with a smile, "you are...something". It took everything in your power to restrain yourself from leaning down to kiss him- He was something. He searched the ground for his shirt and pulled it over his head, having had his scar on display for long enough.

"I don't know if you're busy right now or anything, but I'd love to make you breakfast...if you want" you offered.

A small sigh of relief left Bucky's lips, like he'd been looking for an excuse to stay and you'd found one for him. Together, you made veggie omelettes, home fries, and toast while listening to his favorite jazz musicians from the forties. He was all smiles and, for a second, Bucky felt like he was himself again. He always felt that way around you-like none of the awful things he'd experienced had ever happened.

A call from Ayo brought him screeching back into reality just as you finished breakfast. "I have to go meet the Dora Milaje" he said, disappointment coloring his voice. Never had he ever felt anything other than positivity towards the most incredible warriors in the world, but Ayo had completely shattered the moment of domestic bliss he'd been sharing with you.

"Hey," he called as he headed out the door, "meet me our spot tonight? For dinner?"

"Of course."

As sunset neared, you sat alone in Bucky's favorite spot. He'd asked you to meet and now he was nowhere to be found, which was unlike him. You began searching for him in the surrounding areas and found him all alone, pacing and muttering to himself under his breath.

"Buck? Is everything okay?"

His head shot up when he heard your voice, and you saw a flash of panic cross his face.

"Oh. Hey-hi. Um, yeah. Yes. I'm okay" he stammered.

Something was wrong. He was off in some way and worry instantly plagued you. "I was waiting for you at our spot but...Are you sure you're alright? Something seems...different".

A million emotions flashed through Bucky's face in mere seconds, making it impossible for you to pin down what was going on. His deep, dark eyes sliced through you as he quickly contemplated telling you the truth.

"I'm just going to be honest," he began. "I haven't said anything because, well, you're my best friend-my favorite person in the whole world- and I didn't want to upset you or make you uncomfortable..."

You took a deep breath, bracing yourself for whatever harsh truth Bucky was about to drop on you.

"But here's the thing..." he continued. "I am fully in love with you. I didn't see this happening to me-ever- but you are the best person I've ever met. You're kind and smart and so funny and you- you make me feel like a person instead of a science project or a ruthless ex-assassin. I'm sorry if this makes things between us complicated, but I just-"

As quickly as you could, you flung your arms around Bucky's neck and pulled him close. Your foreheads met gently before you lightly brushed the tip of your nose across his.

"God, I'm so glad you said something," you joked. "I wanted to tell you this morning but I couldn't get the nerve...I love you, Buck. So much".

His strong arm wrapped around your waist and pressed you close to his body, giving you the last bit of confidence you needed to meet his lips with yours. His kiss was tender and deep, somehow even better than you'd been imagining it for the past few months.

A loud cheer pulled the two of you out of the moment, and made your heads snap toward the sound. Shuri, Ayo, and few other members of the Dora Milaje stood in the distance clapping and pointing.

“Well” Ayo called, “Looks like the White Wolf has finally found his mate.”

748 notes · View notes

1kook · 3 years

Text

crunchyroll & rail

the 10th installment of my netflix & chill series !

SUMMARY Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. WARNINGS smut in the forms of making out, jk nipple play, some 69 action, cunnilingus, blowjobs, brief choking, jk trying his best to listen to oc but he doesn’t rlly :/, fingering, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, unprotected fuckin raw, its romantic but when is it not… MISC fluffy and domestic <3, weekend getaway <3, the Big Question, shy jk, sailor moon supremacy, jk makes this big elaborate speech about the sun and moon, mentions of 240p YouTube quality, RATING m (18+) WC 8.7k

NOTE (!) the smut in this chapter is relatively short ! I was more concerned with writing this monumental step in their relationship, so sorry to all the lads who come here specifically for the p0rn but today we focus on the l0ve <333 anyway nc 10!!!!! Can u fuckin believe….

Jungkook mentions it at the dinner table one night. You’re not eating— well, you are not eating; Jungkook has been stocking up on his protein intake like a madman —but finishing up some work you had brought home. Your back aches, your eyes burn. The mere sound of his soft voice has all those feel-good endorphins shooting through your nervous system like a shot of adrenaline. “We should take a trip,” he says, fork clattering against his plate to signify the end of his feast.

Your fingers tap across your keyboard, eyes flickering between an Excel sheet and the report you’re typing out. It takes you a moment to respond, a delayed, “huh,” that even Jungkook doesn’t find convincing.

In the background, you’re listening to what has to be one of the worst voiceovers of the original Sailor Moon series in a language you don’t even understand. But you know the series like the back of your hand, know what exactly is happening even if you don’t understand what they’re saying, because you’ve watched it only about a million times. It’s mostly just there for background purposes anyway, some white noise to try and replicate the noisy soundtrack of your office.

To make matters worse—complicated?—, you had been too lazy to get onto your usual pirating sites and had settled for the five minute, five part, 240p clips of Sailor Moon on YouTube (you know the ones), and Jungkook has to wait until Episode 74: Part ⅖ ends before you grace him with a proper response. “Where do you wanna go, baby?” you ask, giving your eyes a break from the data as you move to scour YouTube for Episode 74: Part 3/5.

He’s stretching back now, arms wound up above his head. His hair— god, his hair —is an ashy color now, a faded version of its golden ancestor from a few months ago. Soon, he’s planning on going back to brown, claims he’s getting too old to be dying his hair, whatever that means. For now, you watch his inked fingers run through his scalp; he looks delectable. Maybe you’re hungrier than you initially thought. Or at least thirstier. “A cabin,” he suggests, and he offers this little half shrug that would otherwise seem normal had you not been well-versed in the art of Jungkook Body Language. His front teeth nibble at his lip, eyes laser focused on his empty plate. Even now, he still gets nervous asking you out. That thought alone makes your ego soar as high as an airplane. “Just something small.”

Usually, “something small” with Jungkook ends up being something big and, in most cases, something expensive. Which you’re totally not opposed to— you’re at the point in your relationship where you don’t even bother trying to dissuade Jungkook from showering you with gifts. It’s one of his many, many, many, many forms of loving you and, well, he knows you like the back of his hand. He rarely misses.

Lo and behold, it is a grander affair than a simple cabin. “Well, it’s more like a resort,” he confesses, reaching across the table for your hand. Immediately, his thumb finds itself rubbing over the simple band of your promise ring. “Just wanna do something nice for you. I know you’ve been tired lately,” he adds on, voice a quiet murmur that nearly gets lost under the intensity of the pout that appears whenever he becomes even the slightest bit bashful.

You smile, the fondness in your heart skyrocketing to impossible heights when he lifts your hand to press those pretty petal lips against your knuckles. “Well, just let me know when,” you tell Jungkook. “So I can request time off from work.”

Episode 74: Part 3/5 starts playing after an ad, and you’d pause it for the sake of preserving this moment with Jungkook, but it’s hidden under so many tabs on your laptop that you lose it the second you leave the tab. Jungkook’s head tilts to the side, sending his ashy locks cascading beautifully. “You know that show is on Crunchyroll,” Jungkook says, seemingly moving past his bout of shyness now. “And you have the password.”

“Do I,” you murmur, but he’s lost you once more, your true talent of typing with one hand showing itself as you return to your Excel sheet, the other still firmly squeezed in his grasp. Jungkook releases soon enough anyway, cleans up the table quickly, and disappears off into the kitchen. He sings when he washes the dishes, likes to pretend he’s a terrible singer even though you’ve told him countless times he could easily take X Factor by storm. (And you know exactly what it takes to wow those judges— you spent the entire last month psychotically watching multiple X Factor seasons from multiple different countries, nearly considered joining the damn audition yourself.) The horribly dubbed Sailor Moon is yelling now, shrieking really, and Jungkook calls from the kitchen, “don’t forget to take your contacts out, sweetheart.”

It’s domestic and it's nerve-wracking.

You want Jungkook, that much is a fact. Aristotle and Socrates and that other guy could debate the philosophical intricacies of the world, turn this dimension in on itself until it was a scrambled mess of emotion and thought, but the one thing they could never change, could never even question, is your love for your boyfriend. You want Jungkook badly, but more importantly, you want Jungkook forever.

And you’re sure Jungkook probably, maybe, hopefully feels that way too. But the way you feel is… slightly concerning to say the least. For starters, you’re convinced your love for Jungkook was meant to be, and that’s saying a lot coming from you. You’re not one for cheesy, soulmate tales— that was more Jungkook’s thing —but the more you think about it, the more you become convinced that you and Jungkook were destined to meet. Like the planets aligned one year, the stars conferred, a tectonic plate somewhere in California shifted; whatever it may have been, something happened somewhere that led to the birth of this beautiful romance of yours.

Lately, being with Jungkook has this inexplicably fiery feeling blossoming in your chest, these waves of emotion that sometimes have you fantasizing about the weirdest of scenarios with him. Like yelling at him for not taking the garbage out on time, or bumping into each other as you make dinner in the kitchen, or buying a new rug together.

(Most drastically, the other day, you had a dream where you were pregnant and Jungkook was there and there was a house and a dog and an annoyingly friendly neighbor and this god-awful tile in the bathroom.)

Long story short, you’ve been fantasizing about a forever with Jungkook. The concerning part is the timing; was this too early? You’re nearly halfway through your second year with Jungkook now, and you know most people date for many, many years before the mere thought of union even occurs to them. In another life, maybe you were the same, would have held off until the very last moment. But with Jungkook things just feel right (at least for you), like there wasn’t going to be anyone else after him. And you sincerely hoped there wouldn’t be.

You slump back into your seat, eyes fluttering shut. Too many thoughts swirl around your mind, and the screech of the Sailor Moon voiceover on screen certainly doesn’t help. How you managed to spiral that far down your thoughts in the span of one 240p, five minute clip of a larger episode amazes even you. To add onto your worries, the clip abruptly ends and Episode 74: Part ⅘ is nowhere in sight, a fact that draws a frustrated moan out of the already sensitive you.

Luckily, Jungkook eventually returns, standing closely behind you. His presence is enormous, the room suddenly overflowing with a shit ton of those feel-good endorphins all over again, except this time they reach an all-time high when he leans over and quietly shuts your laptop. “Come sleep,” he says softly, and it’s a pleasant mixture of his genuinely caring voice and that horndog purr of his that lures you into bed. And it’s that same voice that croons softly into your ear, fingers nestled between your folds until you’re orgasming yourself into a deep slumber.

Much to no one’s surprise, the cabin turns out to be quite the luxurious lodging; two floors of dark oak everywhere you turn, a stunning stone fireplace in the bedroom, and a truly breathtaking view of the resort’s snowy hill (read: front row seats to watch all the snowboarders and skiers wipe out in the snow). Jungkook had splurged quite the pretty penny on it, so you make a point to clap it up for him when he first opens the door to your temporary home for the weekend.

The main bedroom is beyond words. It’s got an attached balcony (that you doubt you’ll be using in this chilly weather), and a wooden canopy bed that makes you feel like a royal (that you will certainly be using). It’s separated into two areas, the bed space and a tiny entertainment area on the other side of the room. Perhaps the best thing about the room— and the cabin itself —is the huge, smart TV mounted above said stone fireplace and the fact it allows the phone mirroring option in lieu of not having any streaming sites. And as is with every and anything to do with televisions, Jungkook is the most excited of the two of you. “Baby, look,” he beams, pointing excitedly at whatever he’s got mirrored onto the television this time. Knowing him, it’s probably another documentary.

You had the forethought to finish your work before the trip, spent two days in the office going absolutely ham on this month’s final reports until your department head promptly sent you home to finish the rest there. You had given yourself a fright upon entering the bathroom that night, the state of your under eyes so severe, you feared it was sufficient cause for a national emergency. Similarly, Jungkook had done the same with his work, cooped himself up in his study until he was free from the shackles of capitalism for the weekend. All this to say you’ve missed him these past few days.

But even though you’re sorely malnourished in the affection department and craving a good kiss or two, you wouldn’t dare interrupt one of Jungkook’s little nerdy, tech-induced fanboy moments. They’re cute, in their own geeky way, providing some insight to a mellower side of your boyfriend who looks on with childlike wonder; Jungkook’s eyes always get so big when he talks about nerdy stuff. You get to work hanging up the silk shirt he packed for tomorrow night’s fancy dinner at the resort, listening to some British narrator’s detailed description of the functionally extinct Northern white rhinos living under 24-hour surveillance in Kenya.

(Jungkook’s really into nature documentaries again, had spent a few nights sniffling as he watched that one Koko the gorilla film.)

The original plan was to head to the nearest store and whip up something small to eat at the cabin. But Jungkook is a little tired from the long drive, slumps down into the couch in front of the now lit fireplace like a limbless blob as he tunes into his documentary. His nose is a little red from the outside chill. It’s so cute. He’s so cute. You love him so much, you fear you’ll accidentally squeeze his cheeks to death. It’s a thought that occurs more times than you’d like.

According to the pamphlet on the nightstand, the resort has its own room-service to order from. Normally you would do that, but not this time; you had gotten into a bit of a squabble with the man at the front desk after he had tried to withhold Jungkook’s reservation for arriving two minutes past your check-in time, called each other all sorts of names before he backed down and gave you your room key. So you’re still a little salty, to say the least. Instead, you settle in for some pizza in front of the huge TV, calling up the nearest place to order some of Jungkook’s and your favorites.

You plop down beside him, instinctively cuddling closer when he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “So,” you start, flipping through the rest of the resort’s introductory pamphlet. There’s a loud roar on screen. In all honesty, you didn’t even know what Northern white rhinos sounded like until then, and you probably never would have if not for the man beside you. “What are you in the mood for tonight, sweet boy?”

You’re not sure if it’s the fatigue or the overall relaxed vibes he’d been exuding since the moment you entered the cabin, but Jungkook is weirdly cooperative today. “Whatever you want,” he responds, head on your shoulder. He even places the remote in your hands, gives your enclosed fist a gentle tap as if he’s just handed you the secret to eternal youth. In other words, it’s a rare sight to behold. “This is your trip, pretty girl.”

You appreciate the sentiment, but feel the need to clear the air, tucking your feet up onto the couch as you snuggle closer. “Our trip,” you clarify, and snatch the remote anyway before he changes his mind.

Jungkook releases a quiet huff of laughter, head rolling back against the couch cushions to display his thick, juicy neck that definitely doesn’t awaken any vampiric tendencies in you. “We can even watch some anime if you want,” he murmurs, casually throwing an arm around your shoulders in a way that would have made any teenage girl in the early 2000s squeal with excitement. It’s one of those barely there touches, but the way he holds you makes you feel so safe and warm and loved. So loved and in love. “The ones on Crunchyroll, though.”

For the sake of preserving these good vibes (and your ears [and Jungkook’s sanity]), you navigate to the Crunchyroll app on your phone, quickly finding your latest obsession and mirroring it onto the big television before Jungkook can react. “Sailor Moon?” he asks with a tone that implies a feigned interest, mostly out of respect for you; he’s, sadly, still not the big dorky anime fan you had hoped to convert him into.

“In the name of the moon, I’ll punish you,” you recite dutifully, snatching up the throw blanket on the end of the couch. It’s barely big enough to cover the both of you, has Jungkook’s outstretched legs and your booty subject to the chilly air. Who cares, Jungkook is a furnace anyway.

He snorts. “Punish me,” he mumbles, as if he doesn’t believe it. His snarky comment wins him a playful pinch against his doughy cheek, not that he particularly defends himself against it anyway, eyes fluttering shut as you tug at the pale skin.

“Don’t fuck with the moon, Jungkook,” you warn him, snuggling closely against his side as your favorite opening song begins filtering through the speakers of the television before you. It’s infinitely better than the 240p YouTube clips you had subjected yourself to the entire last week, the graphics scarily clear.

“Right, of course,” Jungkook says, but a hint of amusement seems to curl around the sound anyway. Nevertheless, he lets it go, cuddles into your side as you pour your full focus into watching yet another group of ragtag teenagers with supernatural abilities kick some ass.

You can tell Jungkook isn’t really into it, and you’re torn between just snuggling him into a well deserved nap or taping his eyelids open so he can become a fan of this show with you.

The loving, caring, adoring side of you says Jungkook deserves the entire world and more (the more in question preferably being a fluffy blanket and a nap). He worked hard this week, just like you, and on top of that he was the one who planned this entire weekend getaway for the two of you to enjoy. You want him to rest up.

The obnoxiously in love girlfriend-slash-best friend in you says Jungkook is sorely missing out on one of the greatest shows on planet Earth and that naps are for the weak.

Your jumbled thoughts are interrupted by a loud sound on the television, a yelp from Ms. Sailor Moon herself that has you jolting up in surprise. Jungkook welcomes you deeper into his embrace, chuckles at your little fright. “Scared?” he teases in that low voice that makes you feel like you’re going crazy, really. So crazy and irrational, and the only thing that stops you from bombarding him with an unexpected outpouring of love is that hard and sharp thing that pokes your side when you get too close to him. It’s not Jungkook, sadly, but something in the front pocket of his hoodie instead.

And for some reason, part of your brain is stuck all of a sudden, rewinding the last two and a half years like a broken cassette tape that had the tape reel hastily stuffed back inside by a toddler. It’s choppy to say the least, and it certainly doesn’t help when Jungkook calls your name softly, tenderly. “__,” he murmurs. It’s a little weird; it’s not often he says your name, mostly referring to you with one of the many pet names from that part of his vocabulary that focuses exclusively on terms of endearment. Your heart skips a beat.

Now, if anyone were to ask, it’s approximately around this time that you begin to spiral. The pink curve of his bottom lip is just too close, the mole on his nose too prominent. Paired with the obnoxious tittering of Usagi on screen, you can feel your thoughts begin to overlap, bumping into each other within the realm of your brain until all that comes out are the messiest of messy thoughts.

They go like this:

Most episodes of any anime run for approximately thirty minutes. Take out the commercial breaks, the opening and ending credits, and it becomes something closer to twenty. Twenty minutes per episode, filled with plot and gags and tears and whatever else necessary to make you feel something, anything really.

“What’s in your pocket?” you ask tentatively.

In contrast, it takes approximately two seconds for Jungkook’s lips to quirk up— first the right side, always the right side —and his eyes to crinkle. Two seconds for him to smile, a sweet expression that reminds you of Netflix and college and quiet laughter and tattoos and silly YouTube videos and cookies and cell phones and job applications and blond hair; two seconds to make you feel everything all at once.

“There’s nothing,” he says, but his cheeks are pink, and it’s not from the cold anymore. His smile is so big it makes your own cheeks ache just looking at it. You can’t even hear the television anymore. Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. “It was supposed to be for tomorrow,” he admits, unwrapping his arm from around you.

It’s a little funny, somehow, because his hands are covered in ink, in tiny doodles and intricate pieces of swirls and words that ooze this aura of strength and toughness. But they tremble when he opens it, as unsteady as a wispy dandelion on a windy day, fumbling with the box. And when you look closely, he’s been biting at the skin along his thumb again, that nervous habit you’ve been trying forever to help him overcome.

Someone is saying something on screen, something important to the plot. The volume is loud, but not as loud as your heart. Not as loud as Jungkook’s quiet murmur when he speaks again. “Will you marry me?” he asks softly, looks at you with flushed cheeks and big eyes and his heart on his sleeve.

The answer has always been the same, hasn’t changed since the first time he planted the seed in your mind. Still, it catches in your throat, nearly loses out to a surprised and emotional sob that you barely manage to bite down. You had just been speaking, had just been ready to deliver a whole spiel on the importance of him watching Sailor Moon with you. But when you try now, it’s raspy and dry, as if you haven’t used your voice in years. “I— yes,” you exhale, surprised by the lonely tear that trails down your cheek. You go to wipe it away, but Jungkook beats you with a gentle hand cupping your cheek.

His smile is wobbly, patches of red blossoming across his face that eventually consume his entire appearance as he leans his forehead against yours. Only then do you realize he’s crying, and you laugh out of reflex. “You’re crying,” you say, and Jungkook snorts.

“You cried first,” he sniffles, smiling. “You made me cry.”

He looks like a wreck, but, like, a hot wreck. An engaged, hot wreck who’s eyes flicker back to the TV to remind you to pause your anime, always so considerate. You do, hastily smashing buttons on the remote before remembering it’s controlled by your phone, hands flying back and forth as your nerves actively work to retire themselves after Jungkook’s proposal. “Easy there,” he soothes, eventually catching your hand in his, drawing it up for a kiss against your knuckles.

The ring fits perfectly, snuggly. Vaguely, a memory drifts through your thoughts of Jungkook and Doyeon on a rampant mission to reorganize your jewelry box a few months ago, but it disappears as quickly as it came. You’re taken by the ring, a simple band with a pretty diamond on top. It’s a good mixture of you and him; flashy yet mild.

“You love me,” you marvel, a revelation you’ve had the honor of experiencing time and time again with Jungkook. Still, it never fails to render you speechless. He hums.

“I do,” he says, taking your hand in his. “It’s the easiest thing for me. Like breathing, or existing. I think I was made to love you.” And normally, you’d be the first one to correct him. Jungkook was made for so much more, a fact he’s proven time and time again with his abilities and the sheer size of his heart. He was your golden boy, could do anything he set his mind to. Always amazing you, always making you fall in love all over again.

But now, with the weight of his words sitting heavy in the air, you find yourself incapable of negating the fact, instead sniffling at the meaning.

Pleased with your silence, Jungkook places another chaste kiss against your ring. “I love you, __,” he confesses, voice nearly a whisper. Your entire body feels as if it is doused in gasoline, lit aflame over and over again. Your heart threatens your rib cage, pounds away with the strength of a world renowned boxer. Jungkook’s hands curl around your wrists carefully. “I used to think we were like the moon and the sun,” he admits, “that you were my sun and I was your moon. In love but always separated by those thin veils of the sunrise and the sunset.” He pauses, nuzzling sweetly against your palm once more before gently guiding them down between the two of you. “But that really sucks— saying goodbye to you every night? I hate that, __. I hate watching you leave, I hate watching you run off in the mornings or halfway through the day, having to drive back and forth from your place to mine. I hate having to be away from you when all I wanna do is hold you. I— I want to be by your side,” he rambles, eyes nervously meeting yours. They’re still glassy, dark lashes framing his chocolate irises wonderfully. “Forever.”

Your heartbeat stutters, the simple word looping itself in your mind like that night in his dining room all over again, all the fantasies of having a forever with Jungkook bubbling to the surface. Jungkook pushes on. “You are my sun,” he says softly, mostly to himself. “But… I don’t wanna be the moon anymore. Being the moon means, eventually, I’ll have to say goodbye. In the night or in the morning, it always comes to an end. And I don't want there to be an end with you,” he insists, clutching your hand tightly. “I wanna be another star, the closest one to you. The one who gets to be with you forever. I wanna be by you and shine with you and—“

“Explode into a gazillion little fragments of cosmic dust with me,” you offer, and Jungkook nods along eagerly, too amped up on his speech to bother scolding you for your playful comment.

“Yes, I want to— to—“ The words catch in his throat. So much emotion from the man you once thought was the dictionary definition of calm and collected. “To—“

“Marry me,” you fill in, and Jungkook practically blows a fuse from how emotionally fired up he’s become, exclaiming a resolute, “yes!” that leaves you stupidly grinning back at him.

His outburst leaves him with flushed cheeks. “I do,” he reiterates in a softer tone, averting his gaze from you as if embarrassed by his cheesy outpouring of emotion. Usually, it’s the other way around; you make all the corny declarations of love and Jungkook laughs along suavely. It feels nice to have the tables turned.

There’s so much to say, but the words all fade away when Jungkook shyly looks at you again. You settle on tackling him back onto the couch cushions, taking his surprised little yelp in stride as you suffocate him in your embrace. “Save those words for the big day, superstar,” you giggle, peppering his red face with tiny kisses that make him scrunch up cutely. “I can’t wait to blow up into one huge supernova with you.”

Beneath you, Jungkook groans. “I’m sorry,” he huffs, voice muffled against your shoulder. Begrudgingly, his arms come up to envelope you, pulling you closer until the blanket scrunches up uncomfortably between you two. “That must’ve sounded so lame.”

Leaning back so you’re not completely squishing him, you carefully push his silvery hair away from his forehead. “Don’t be,” you assure him, placing one chaste peck against his pouty lips. “I thought it was cute. I didn’t know you were into astrology.”

A sigh. “Astronomy,” he corrects, “astrology has to do with zodiac signs and placements.”

You run your thumbs over his cheeks, collecting any of the drying tears that paint his face. “Oh, like how you’re a Virgo and I’m a“—

The TV remote you had lost somewhere along the way is suddenly rematerialized beneath your knee, sends the speakers blaring to life with a deafening screech that has both you and Jungkook leaping up like two frightened cats. “You always do this,” he laughs, that loud boyish sound that makes you feel like you’re sitting on a cloud. He watches you with a gentle smile as you hurriedly shut off the television, the remote haphazardly tossed somewhere behind you afterwards. You return to his embrace, wrap your arms around his waist and snuggle into his warmth. His heart thumps a steady rhythm beneath your ear.

“You’re gonna be stuck with me forever,” you warn him, clutching at the fabric of his shirt like he’ll suddenly disintegrate before your eyes.

Above you, Jungkook hums, placing a kiss against the crown of your head. “I look forward to it,” he responds, pulling you impossibly closer, until you can feel the wrinkles in his shirt imprinting themselves against your cheek. He’s back to being that suave bastard again, and you find yourself wishing you had milked those big crocodile tears out of him for just a little bit longer.

Fingers gently press against the muscles in your nape, push themselves in deeply until you can feel all the tension seeping out, turning you into a limbless blob over Jungkook. “Jeez,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut. “And you wanted to wait until tomorrow.”

He huffs out a laugh. “I just thought you’d rather get engaged at a fancy restaurant with a pretty dress,” he defends, and you can hear the grin on his face. “For the photos.”

“Fair point,” you concede, eventually pushing yourself up so you’re not entirely squishing your boyfriend beneath you. Jungkook is already looking at you when you lift your head, has got this funny double-chin from this angle that makes his normally sharp jawline disappear. You find yourself tapping a finger against his chin, on the chocolate chip mole that hides itself beneath his plump bottom lip. “If anything, just propose to me again tomorrow at the restaurant.”

It wins you an eye-roll. “I’m not gonna propose to you again tomorrow,” he laughs, doesn’t even push you away when you become annoying and start tapping your fingers against all his beauty marks like you’re playing Whack-a-Mole.

“Booo,” you frown, but let it go soon enough, foregoing your little game to press your lips against his. “Then I better make this a night to remember,” you murmur, tilting your head to the side.

Your hands dip into his luscious locks, fingernails tracing thin lines along his scalp that are certain to send tingles down his spine. As predicted, Jungkook releases a quiet groan soon after, a sound that’s muffled against your own lips. He’s pliant tonight, but not in a way that would elude fatigue. Pliant in a way that suggests he wants you to take the reins tonight, exhaling softly against you as he parts his lips.

“Let me take care of you,” you hum, the hand that had been mindlessly hovering along his cheek drifting down to caress the side of his neck. Jungkook nods, his irises swimming in lust. You smile at his silent compliance, give his throat a light squeeze that makes his breathing hitch in surprise.

He’s always at his prettiest when he’s beneath you like this, limbs moving in slow motion as you guide him along. You can already feel the beginnings of his arousal stirring beneath the front of his sweats, his cock slowly making its presence known against your thigh. You press your lips against his once more, making sure to make it rougher than the first kiss. Your tongue is met with little resistance, slips past his lips and dips into the hot cave of his mouth where Jungkook releases another trembling breath.

Two hands come up behind you, trail themselves over your back and down to your ass, where he gives the two globes a tight squeeze. It draws a whimper out of you, one that Jungkook greedily swallows up. His tongue rubs up along yours, the wet muscle daringly pushing back against yours. His rebelliousness is only quelled with another press of your fingertips around his throat.

“Slow down,” you tell him. The first roll of your hips against him is slow, cruel in that you cut the motion short just as Jungkook begins to push back. A bratty huff escapes him, swollen pink lips pushing out into that endearing pout you love so much. It makes you grin, releasing the grip around his throat to carefully brush a stray strand of hair away from his eyes.

It’s a gesture that works to soften Jungkook as well, the petulant look on his face melting away as you trail your pointer finger along his cheekbone. It’s replaced with a more tender one, dark lashes blinking up at you slowly. “Open,” you command upon reaching his mouth, finger pressing down against his pink lower lip. Jungkook obeys, opening his mouth until you can see his pink tongue and the dark abyss that leads down his throat. Your finger pushes itself in, and Jungkook certainly doesn’t try to resist. His lips suction around the digit fairly quickly, tight enough to keep you there but loose enough for you to slowly draw your finger in and out, each short plunge pressing down against his tongue.

It’s a rather short affair, one that comes to an end when he accidentally bucks up against you, pressing his hardened member against your core. You retract your finger. “Can you,” he tries, but his cheeks are stained red and he refuses to meet your gaze. “Just…”

You intercept him with a chaste peck, maneuvering your legs until your knees are firmly pressed into the couch cushions beneath him, his thin waist trapped in between. When you sit up, you feel drunk on power and the way Jungkook looks up at you certainly doesn’t help. “Can I sit on your face?”

He chokes. “I— sure, please,” he blurts out. His gaze follows you as you slip off of him, quickly discarding your pants and top on the floor. One pat against his thigh has him hurrying to shimmy out of his clothes, his sweatpants caught around his ankles.

“You’re excited,” you laugh, stripping him of his bottoms when the frustration takes him over.

Jungkook scoffs. “Well, yeah,” he mumbles, tugging his shirt off with one smooth motion. The ink around his bicep is as dark as ever, contrasts wonderfully against his warm face. “My fiancée is gonna sit on my face.”

The title makes you preen, quickly finding your place on his lap once more. With your clothing out of the way, Jungkook really does become a furnace. Every inch of his body is hot to the touch, soft too. “Fiancée,” you giggle, hands on his chest. They slide down, fingers playfully nudging his brown nipples. Jungkook flinches at the touch. “Gonna sit on my fiancé’s face,” you parrot back, delicately pinching one nipple between your fingers. A moan spills from his lips, his cock pushing against your thigh once more.

It’s the reminder you need, pushing back dutifully against him as you continue to toy with his chest. He’d look pretty with piercings, you find yourself thinking, watching on in fascination at the way his pert nipples stand at attention. Beneath you, Jungkook begins to grow desperate, his hands finding their place on your waist to encourage you to grind down against him once more.

Jungkook swears up and down that he’s not particularly sensitive about having his nipples touched. But when you’ve got him like this, sinfully laid out before you, you can easily confirm that his claims are nothing but lies. He loves having his nipples touched, squirms beneath you impatiently with each playful tug and twist you bestow upon them.

You duck down, pressing a kiss against his pectoral, just beside his nipple, and Jungkook’s entire body shivers. A few careful drags of your tongue against his warm skin only serve to string him along further, the prettiest whimper pulling itself from his lips when you finally envelope one of them in your mouth. “Wait,” he gasps, clawing at your clothing as if he both wants to push you off and push you closer. You grin, brandishing one mean nip at the sensitive nub.

Eventually, your incessant need to play with Jungkook’s chest is fulfilled. “Lay back,” you instruct, watching as he shuffles down flat on the cushions, silver hair tumbling away from his eyes. He’s so red, eyes hazy. Your panties are discarded, joining the ever growing pile of clothes on the floor.

Once upon a time, the idea of sitting on Jungkook’s face had terrified you, filled you with nightmares of crushing his windpipe or breaking his nose. For the most part, they’re pretty unrealistic fears, ones that can be easily shut down after one careful Google search on safe sexual practices. These days, it’s all too easy; in the mornings, especially, it’s become natural for him to guide you on top carefully, holding your hand as you whimper and sob over his face.

In the current moment, you find yourself stroking a hand down the side of his face, completely enamored with the huge puppy eyes he levels your way. Jungkook likes having your pussy in his face just as much as you do, loves making you feel good in any way he knows how. But there’s a separate matter at hand, one that stands at attention beneath his black boxers and successfully wins your attention.

Truthfully, there is no dilemma to ponder over; you want both to ride Jungkook’s face and suck him off. The solution?

“We’ve never done this before,” Jungkook mumbles in amazement, his voice slightly muffled from his position beneath you and slightly behind you. Still, his arms dutifully wrap around your thighs, guiding you closer to his mouth where his hot breath fans against your glistening folds. You rock back willingly, hands preoccupied with pushing his boxers down and away from his engorged cock.

“Really?” you ask, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the cock before you and the tongue that gently laps at your folds. Jungkook makes a sound, something between a hum and whimper, his mouth slowly getting to work against your folds. “M- Maybe,” you stutter, all thought processes coming to a halt as you carefully take him in your hand.

His cock is hard and long, his tip an angry shade that weeps with precum. From this angle, you get to watch Jungkook’s huge thighs twitch at the sensation, the tattoo that marks up one of them doing little to hide the fact. Your hand squeezes him, watches in awe as another fat droplet oozes out of his tip. A moan tears itself from his throat, and it’s so goddamn sexy it nearly drives you insane.

It’s one particularly long lap of his tongue over your clit that sends you into action, back arching at the tingles that shoot down your spine. Wasting no more time, you guide Jungkook’s cock into your mouth, let your own tongue shower his mushroom tip in kitten licks that have him bucking upwards. He releases your clit with a lewd pop, hot breath fanning across your lips. “Fuck,” he gasps, voice harsh.

Admittedly, it’s more difficult than you thought it would be.

You’re not one to be easily overwhelmed (says you), but with Jungkook’s twitching cock in your mouth and his teasing tongue dipping into your entrance, it becomes hard to juggle your attention between the two. Even Jungkook, who is quite frankly the master of cunnilingus, seems torn between the two, his breathing shallow and quick against your folds.

With each slow descent around his cock, he shudders, thigh muscles tightening in anticipation. It causes a lull in the pace of his tongue, the generous kisses and licks against your folds subject to a somewhat uneven pace that, surprisingly, leaves you more on edge than you’d ever expected it to; right when you think he’s about to suck your clit into his mouth, you’re met with a harsh exhale instead, one that makes your lips flutter.

You’re both disappointed in yourselves for never having tried this mind-blowing position before, and equal parts understanding as to why you haven’t tried this position before— it’s a lot. His cock is halfway down your throat when it twitches, sends a gush of precum into your mouth that has your eyes rolling backwards, a whine slipping out around him. Jungkook appreciates the vibrations, letting it fuel him as he plunges his tongue into your hole. It’s a two way street, you realize, one that is constantly experiencing traffic.

“Baby,” you gasp, pulling off of his cock with a slick sound, hypnotized by the trail of saliva that connects your lips to his tip. Jungkook’s tongue prods along your slit, makes your eyesight go blurry when the tip of his nose brushes along you as well. The idea of his cute nose buried deep someplace it shouldn’t be has you grinding down on him. “We can— we should stop,” you stutter, your trembling hand reaching forward to grasp the base of his cock.

He’s slick with your saliva and his precum, and your hand makes a squelching sound upon contact. It must feel good, because Jungkook moans against your folds, his thighs unconsciously falling farther apart as you slowly jerk him off. You think you might’ve heard your name slip from his lips, but your mind is fuzzy, lost in your lust as Jungkook licks a sinful line from your hole to your clit, curling his tongue at the end. “J- Jungkook,” you cry, flinching away because it’s become too much, your toes curling as the beginnings of an orgasm threaten you.

Before that can happen, he relents, leaning back with a heavy exhale, his hands loosening their grip against your ass and plopping back down against the cushions. “Fuck,” he pants, his cock twitching in your hold. A lonely droplet of precum trails down the side, your knuckles coated in the glossy substance. Beneath you, Jungkook rubs one soothing palm against your hip.

You slink off before he can get any funny ideas, maneuver yourself around until you’re kneeling between his parted thighs, his fat cock standing at attention between the two of you. From here, he looks ravenous, and you begin to question who exactly is taking care of who. Jungkook looks like he’s a second away from pinning you down and swallowing you whole, a thought that makes your toes curl.

It’s with a cautiously horny hand that you reach for his cock again, holding him with both hands. Jungkook growls, head lolling backwards until all you can see is his neck and his chin, thick veins protruding along his skin. Jungkook doesn’t waste a moment longer. “C’mere,” he purrs, hauling you up until you’re clumsily leaning over him, palms framing his face. A lone finger runs down your spine, its faint touch making you arch forward. “Sorry,” he says, securing an arm around your waist. “I know you wanted to take care of me, but…”

You roll your eyes, submitting yourself to his clutches as he masterfully rolls the two of you over. The couch is soft beneath your back, and Jungkook looks pretty from above too. “You just can’t sit still, can you?” you murmur playfully.

Jungkook’s forearms find their place beneath your thighs, the fold of the back of your knee perfectly slotted against his warm skin as he shuffles closer. “Maybe another time,” he laughs along sheepishly, his hard cock gliding over your slit, teasing your clit. You gulp, eyes scanning over his lean build as if it’s the first time. “Sorry,” he repeats, but he’s got this stupidly dopey grin on his face as he glances down at your pussy; he’s insane, he’s got to be, what man makes heart eyes at a pussy?

Your man, apparently. Grasping the base of his cock, Jungkook takes care to drag it along your folds collecting your wetness along his length, a deep shudder wracking his body through it all. “I knew you would do this to me,” he mutters, so low you nearly miss it under the thundering sound of your heartbeat.

“Huh,” you mumble, and you’d like to defend yourself and say you weren’t as cock-crazy as Jungkook was coochie-crazy, but that would be a lie. You’re staring at his cock as if it holds the secrets to the universe right now.

Jungkook juts his head to the side, a motion similar to the one he does when he’s trying to crack his neck. His tongue prods along his cheek, eyes laser-focused on the point where your two bodies meet. “From the moment you walked into my house,” he grunts mindlessly, finally lining himself up with your entrance. He chances a glance up, meets your gaze with a patient look, “all good?”

“All good,” you hurriedly reply, fingers finding their place against his broad shoulders. With the way he had prepared you earlier, mouthed along your clit and your folds until you were pleasantly aroused, the glide now is too easy. Tight, but easy, has the two of you releasing twin moans that echo off the wooden walls of the cabin.

Jungkook’s forehead is covered in a thin veil of sweat, one that glistens when the evening sunset pours in through the balcony doors, highlighting him in a golden light that makes you dizzy. The angry tip of his cock sinks into your walls, Jungkook’s ashy strands sticking to his forehead and his cheeks. For some reason, you find yourself reminiscing on the aforementioned moment Jungkook had spoken of. Of the soft sweater he’d worn that day and the dinner he had made, the blond tips on his chestnut hair and the way he’d clung onto every word you’d said.

It makes you tear up, and, after laughing at Jungkook early for crying, you quickly turn your face away.

Jungkook isn’t dumb. “What now,” he chuckles, though his breathing is labored, every inch of his cock that penetrates you further bringing with it another rush of adrenaline. At the hilt, you’re embarrassed to say there’s multiple tears streaming down your face, so you can’t even play it off as you usually do. “Crybaby,” Jungkook teases, but his voice is so soft and tender you don’t know what to do with yourself.

“Just move,” you bite out, shamefully covering your face with your hands. Jungkook leans over you, the movement pushing his dick deeper inside of you, your walls clenching around him. A kiss is placed over your knuckles, just shy of your engagement ring. Your chest lurches with a silent sob. “Jungkook,” you whimper, sinking further into the cushion, “please, just—“

“I got it,” he assures you, placing one final peck against your handmade (literally) shield. And then, so quietly you almost miss it, he makes sure to whisper, “love you,” before unsheathing himself.

You shudder, your heart feeling so full, you fear it’ll burst. You both love and hate when he treats you like this, like an ice sculpture in the scorching heat that has him doing everything he can to keep you solid. His touch is soft, the roll of his hips too slow for your liking. You feel so small and vulnerable— too pampered. “Harder,” you beg, your voice an airy whine that has Jungkook chuckling above you.

He lives to please you, hiking your leg over his shoulder with a renewed vigor. His hands find themselves on your waist, forcefully pinning you down against the couch cushions as he sets upon fulfilling your latest request. The next series of thrusts are jerky, have you jostling in his grip as Jungkook pounds into you with an all new mindset. “Lemme see you,” he huffs, thumbs painfully digging into your skin. You tremble in his arms, heart swayed by the quiet plea in his voice. “Let me see your face, pretty girl.”

Reluctantly, you do, brandishing your tear-stricken face his way. Jungkook smiles, that stupidly handsome smile, his hips snapping into you roughly. “Fuck,” he moans, the expression never leaving his face, even when run your nails over his chest harshly. “You’re so pretty.”

You ignore him for the sake of your already weakened mental state, focusing instead on the brutal force of his hips, the way his cock stretches your walls out. Each push has you seeing stars, thighs quivering from the sensations that shoot up your spine and down your toes. “Oh,” you mewl, hands gripping his biceps as you lose yourself to him. Your eyes roll back, vision a mess of colors and nothingness all at once.

“Is this hard enough?” Jungkook husks out, and he sounds so close. His proximity is confirmed when his mouth slots against yours, his harsh breath mingling with your own as he continues to frantically buck into your inviting heat, each new round of thrusts leaving you weaker and weaker than before. “God,” Jungkook cries, the sound nearly lost beneath your own moans and whimpers. “Gonna k- keep you forever,” he spits, tongue slipping into your mouth.

He’s messier than usual, moves with unrefined movements unlike his normal self. You don’t care, you love him all the same. His sloppy kisses turn into desperate ones, matching the pace of his hips. “Kook,” you sob, arms wrapping themselves around his neck, pulling him close until his thrusts are reduced to a shallower depth.

“I’ve got you,” he croons, lips against your jawline. His cock presses in and you swear you feel it alongside every inch of your walls, a warmth blossoming in your stomach. He’s layering messy kisses down your face now, lips sucking dark marks any chance he gets.

True to his word, Jungkook indeed has you. His cock pistons in and out at an astonishing pace, each surge into your folds making you dizzy over and over again. It’s a feeling you fear you’ll never grow tired of, in fact, it’s a feeling you fear you’ll begin to crave even more in the future. The good thing is, that future will extend into forever.

You yank him towards you, swallow his low laughter with your lips. Jungkook doesn’t complain, lowering himself until he’s practically squishing you beneath his beefy body, cock ramming in and out despite all that. His tongue glides along yours, makes it his mission to muffle each of your cries.

It doesn’t take long for you to be fulfilled. Given the fact you had sucked him off like a lollipop whilst having him eat you out, you’re not entirely surprised. That and the emotions of tonight have you melting into him sooner than you’d like, his name falling from your lips as your thighs clamp down around his waist. Jungkook takes it in stride, slows the maddening pace of his hips to cradle you in his arms. You’re like jelly, practically flop back into the cushion when he slips an arm beneath you. “You’re so good for me,” Jungkook praises, lavishing your throat in tiny pecks as his orgasm circles around. “My pretty girl.”

“Love you,” you sigh, and your body feels numb, his intrusion but a small touch now that he’s tired you out once more, your walls tender and raw. Jungkook presses a smile against your throat and, moments later, releases inside of you.

Even minutes after the deed, the feeling refuses to return to your legs. He didn’t go that hard— well, you’re not entirely sure. The memories always become blurry toward the end of your escapades. Everything rushes back in waves, and for some reason, your first thought is, “where’s Sailor Moon?”

Your post-rump conversations have never been the most coherent, usually filled with pretty weird thoughts and ideas. Still, more grand things have happened tonight for you to be worried about a magical anime girl. Jungkook draws himself out of your core with a huff of laughter. “On the TV,” he answers, unfazed by the oddity of your question.

That’s how you know he’s a keeper.

It takes a while, but eventually Jungkook responds. “Avocado toast,” he says, though his answer is dripping with uncertainty. He’s naked as the day he was born, snuggled up beside you in bed. He’s propped up on one arm, looking down at you over the ample swell of his manly bosom. It takes everything in you to keep your hands off his chest.

“Correct,” you respond, “and what movie did we watch?”

Without missing a beat, “Transformers, the first one.”

You nod, glancing at the ceiling as you rack your brain for any other trivia questions to ask your fiancé. “The title of the playlist you made?”

A flush paints his cheeks. “Date Night playlist,” he answers through a pout, reprimanding you for bringing up such a memory with a flick to your forehead. You wince. “I was young and silly,” he defends.

You beam, cuddling into his side until he’s forced to lay back down. “Yeah, yeah,” you tease. “We’re only gonna get older from here,” you lament. You’d say it’s difficult to picture him with a gray head of hair, but his current silvery locks don’t leave much room for your imagination.

Jungkook pulls you close. A beat of silence passes, and then, “so who are we telling first?”

Definitely Namjoon.

#networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook #Jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader smut #bts fic #bts smut #mine

2K notes · View notes

slasherhaven · 3 years

Note

Hello! I adore your blog so much! Just a quick question, are you planning on doing part2 of 'Disruptive', Thomas x reader hc? Maybe reader finds out what happend to Ian and Cecilia (those were the names, right?)

Thomas Hewitt X Reader

Part 1 HERE

Disruptive Part 2:

Luda May had tried to shield you from the fate of your friends but you knew what was happening as soon as you heard Hoyt's gun go off. She held you as you cried, both from the feelings of betrayal and from the violence taking place outside.

She had continued to comfort you during the days following their deaths, shushing you and reassuring you. She had tried to get Thomas to see you, to take her role in comforting you, but he had refused each time. He was sure that you wouldn't ever want to look at him again, never mind be comforted by him. So, he took to avoiding you, assuming Luda May would bring you more comfort than anything else could.

Everything had happened so fast but you had managed to wrap your head around the main points and come to terms with them. Ian and Cecilia were dead, the family that you were now living with had killed them.

It was scary at first but the family never seemed to wish you any harm, Luda May always assured you of that. Even Hoyt refrained from threatening you or scaring you, apparently he hadn't been fond of your friends but had no real problem with you since you had been the polite one. Still, neither he or Monty went out of their way to make you feel particularly welcome.

In the end, you couldn't say you mourned your ex-boyfriend and ex-best friend all that much, considering the betrayal they had committed. More than anything, you had been afraid about what your time in the house would mean for you. But...it had never meant you any harm, and you believed they would continue to welcome you in their home.

Luda May had apologised for your loss, apologised for what the family did but assured you that you were safe here. She had also asked you not to blame Tommy.

Some time passed and the family trusted you to move freely around the residence. You were still polite and undeservingly kind to the family, helping with chores and assimilating with the family relatively easily. You were a welcomed addition in everyone's eyes.

Still, Thomas was avoiding you and you had become highly aware of it. Now that everything had calmed down, you could notice the lack of the large man in every room you walked into. At first you thought it was a coincidence, now you were certain he was avoiding you on purpose.

Despite wishing that Thomas wouldn't keep avoiding you, you hadn't had much chance to confront him about it. At least, until today.

The house was pretty quiet and you were in the kitchen, having just finished some chores when you glanced out of the window. From your position at the window, you could see Thomas outside by the collection of cars. Hoyt must have asked him to strip down the newest car, the car you had arrived in.

You smiled to yourself, determined to take the chance to speak with him. Grabbing a chilled glass from the tray, you hurried outside and skipped down the steps.

It reminded you of a graveyard, cars in various states of distress lined up in the field. Some stripped down to their frames, others barely touched but parts rusting away.

"Thomas" you spoke as you approached him, getting his attention since his back was to you. You bit back a small laugh when he jumped and turned to face you, clearly surprised by your presence.

"It's hot, I thought you would like a drink" you offered as you held out the glass of freshly made iced lemonade.

He looked a little suspicious of your offer at first but his face soon softened before he took the glass from you.

He tensed some more when he realised what he had been doing as you approached. He glanced back at the before, looking nervously at you before hanging his head.

Even though he didn't say anything, it was like you could read his mind. He was worried that you would be upset about him stripping your car for parts.

"Don't worry. It was Ian's car, you can do whatever you want with it" you assured him with a small shrug, lazily kicking the flat tyre as if to further your point.

Thomas nodded, relaxing slightly, before drinking from the glass that you had so generously provided him.

You rocked back and forth on your feet for a moment as it fell silence, feeling a little awkward and sensing the tension in the air.

"Have you been avoiding me?" you finally asked, deciding there was no point dancing around the subject.

Thomas just shifted his weight, unsure of how to answer. He could be honest and say 'yes', but he knew that would sound rude, and surely you wanted him to avoid you. Or he could lie and say 'no', but he didn't want to lie to you and he knew you already knew the truth.

"It's alright if you have, I get it" you reassured him, not wanting him to feel guilty for it. "Just stop, okay?...I'm not mad at you and...and I miss you" you confessed, noticing how his eyes widened slightly at your words.

How could you miss him? You had only known him for a day before he started avoiding you. He supposed the only real company you had now was Luda May, so maybe...that was why you 'missed' him. He couldn't wrap his head around you having forgiven him and wanting to have him around.

"I have to get back before Luda May finds me gone but stop avoiding me, okay?" you spoke again when he didn't really respond.

This time, Thomas nodded, making you smile before running back towards the house. Thomas smiled to himself as he watched you run back into the house, hoping that you really had meant it and he wouldn't have to avoid you any more.

Thomas was true to his word and stopped avoiding you. Conversations should have been a little awkward but you found any silences comfortable and you kept the conversation flowing. He didn't talk, you had learnt that for sure now, but he listened intently and always responded in what ways he could.

Now, you spent more time with him that any other Hewitt. Now, he did the opposite of avoiding you. He was always around, seeking you out just for your friendly company.

You were thankful for those developments but a new concern was worming its way into your mind. Even when he wasn't around, you were thinking about him, you couldn't wait until you saw him again. Whenever he was around, you would smile, practically giddy to be around him again.

Could you be developing feelings for Thomas?

From the first day you met him, defending him behind the gas station, you had thought he was sweet. You had also found him attractive, tall with broad shoulders and strong arms. God, you wondered what those arms would feel like wrapped around you.

You could never make out all of his facial features because of his mask but you could see his eyes. Oh, how you adored his eyes. They were expressive and beautiful. You wanted to tell him that whenever you could see him doubting himself.

You wondered if he would ever take his mask off around you, if he would ever let you see his face. You had heard from Luda May that he had some sort of skin condition and that was what he was hiding, but you didn't care. You just wanted to see him...maybe he would even let you k-

"I'm so glad you and Thomas are talking again" Luda May's voice brought you out of your thoughts, reminding you of where you were. You were in the kitchen, helping cook supper, but had completely zoned out with thoughts of Thomas.

"He's a good boy and he likes you, he's just a little shy" she smiled to herself. She obviously loved Thomas and it did make you smile, it was sweet.

You sighed and you collected yourself, practically deflating as you pushed away the thoughts about Thomas. Yes, you could be honest with yourself, you had developed a crush on Thomas but it surely didn't matter. You doubted he returned your feelings, even despite how highly Luda May claimed he thought of you.

"It's alright, he was just worried about everything that happened..." you cleared your throat, hoping she hadn't seen the change in expression on your face. You didn't feel like being questioned about it right now. "Do you want me to come to the gas station with you tomorrow?" you asked, changing the subject. You didn't like the idea of her walking down there on her own.

"No, that's alright, dear. Hoyt is going to drive me up" Luda May assured you and you nodded. "I'll ask Tommy to help you out with some chores tomorrow, I'm sure he won't mind helping" she offered.

"Oh, I'm sure I can handle it" you shook your head, able to handle some clean up on your own.

"Trust me, dear, Tommy will be happy to help" she insisted, giving you a knowing look.

You were sure she knew something you didn't, but you couldn't question her about it because Thomas had walked into the room, making you both look back at him.

"Hey Tommy, we're almost done with supper" you told him with a smile.

"Would you help Y/n clean up after breakfast tomorrow?" Luda May asked and Thomas nodded without hesitation.

"Thank you, Tommy" you smiled at him. You tried to hide it but Luda caught the light blush on your cheeks as you turned back to the task at hand.

The next morning, Thomas kept his promise. Hoyt was taking Luda May to the gas station, Monty was passed out in front of the television, and Thomas had come to help you clean up in the kitchen. Well, he was supposed to be helping but he was basically doing it all, not letting you help when you tried.

He had been working in a comfortable silence for a while, as your mind ran while. You watched him work, watching the muscles of his back moving under his shirt, smiling at him whenever he glanced over his shoulder at you.

Sometimes you thought he might return some of your feelings but then your newfound insecurities would show their ugly faces. You used to be so confident in yourself, able to take rejection with understanding, it wouldn't shake you. But now you doubted yourself, now you couldn't stand the idea of Thomas not thinking you were enough.

You sat on the kitchen table, where Thomas had placed you and silently ordered you to stay making you laugh, and anxiously picked at the wood with your nails.

"Thomas?" you finally spoke, making him look at you. "Do I talk too much?" you asked. Ian had believed you were too much, too chatty at times, too eager, just too much and yet not enough all at the same time.

Thomas instantly shook his head. He honestly liked how much you talked, that you even wanted to talk to him in the first place. Your face would light up as you rambled about something that had happened that day, and it made his chest feel warm. He couldn't help it but smile whenever you talked so happily, even about the most mundane things.

You almost smiled but not quite. He seemed to be being honest, you didn't talk too much. He didn't think like Ian had...but that didn't help much.

"...do you think I'm attractive?" you asked quietly after a short moment of silence. You never thought you were the most attractive person in the world but you had been comfortable in your own skin, at least until you found out your boyfriend had been fucking your best friend for months. There had to be a reason for Ian to betray you like that, you must have done something wrong.

Thomas paused at your question, his eyes widening.

Surely this was a trick question, how was he supposed to answer that? Of course he did! Of course he thought you were attractive, but would you think it was weird if he said that?

Thomas had thought you were attractive from the first moment he saw you. He thought you were the kindest and bravest person he had met since you took that punch for him, and still smiled up at him like he was worth it. Ever since your first encounter with each other, he was smitten with you. And those feelings had only grown as he spent more time with you. He absolutely adored you. God, he wished he could tell you all of that...

You took his silence as a negative response. He didn't answer because he didn't want to hurt you...

"Sorry, you don't have to answer that..." you hung your head, looking down at your lap. You shouldn't have put him in that position, you shouldn't have asked.

Thomas panicked a little, the last thing he wanted to do was make you feel bad. He just hadn't wanted to make you uncomfortable. He took a breath, trying to build up his confidence, before walking over to you.

You looked down at where your hand lay on the table when you felt Thomas' much larger one rest over yours. You teared your gaze away and looked up at him. He just nodded once you were finally looking at him again.

"Thanks, Tommy" you smiled. "I think you're attractive too" you confessed.

He pulled his hand away then, looking down at his feet. You were just being kind, saying what you were meant to say, or just straight up making fun of him.

"Hey" you frowned, quickly catching his hands in both of yours. "I mean it" you promised him as he met your gaze again, still looking unsure. "You doubt yourself too much, think too lowly of yourself" he tensed when you released on of his hands, bringing your hand up to his mask. "I don't know exactly why you wear this but I promise, whenever you feel like you can take it off around me, I will still think you're attractive" you promised, tugging on his hand to pull him closer.

Thomas let you pull him closer, swallowing the lump in his throat as he came to stand between your legs, hand still in yours. He had to do something, he had to savour the moment. Could you really be being honest with him?

He lifted his free hand and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, making you smile softly up at him. He still didn't talk but you knew what he was saying. You too. You shouldn't doubt yourself, you were everything he could ever want, and he did want you.

Since you didn't pull away, Thomas' confidence began to grow. The hand he had hovering around your face gently cupped your cheek and he swore his heart skipped a beat when you nuzzled your face into his large palm.

Thomas wasn't Ian. Thomas clearly cared deeply about you, he wouldn't betray you, he wouldn't hurt you like Ian had.

You placed your hand over the only he held against your cheek, turning your head to press a kiss to his palm. Thomas just looked at you in complete awe.

It made him think back to the man you had arrived with, your boyfriend, Ian. How could Ian ever betray you like he did. Thomas had met your friend, Cecilia, and sure she was pretty but nothing when compared to you. And she wasn't even half as kind. Thomas would never hurt you like that, he couldn't even fathom it.

Here you were, tenderly kissing his palm and looking at him...lovingly, if he didn't know any better.

The sound of the front door slamming closed made you both jump, Thomas' hand falling from your face and landing instinctively on you thigh as you both turned towards the door of the kitchen.

"What the fu-" Hoyt began but cut himself off with a sigh and a shake of his head. "Y'know what, I don't wanna know. Just not in the fucking kitchen" he snarled before grabbing a beer from the fridge and leaving the room.

Both you and Thomas blushed at the implications of what Hoyt had thought you'd been doing, Thomas stepping away from you with an almost apologetic look.

"It's alright, Tommy" you smiled as you hopped down from the table. "Let finish up cleaning, okay?" you asked and he just nodded, assuming you were about to just ignore whatever the moment was that you both shared.

You smiled up at him again, taking your hand in his and lacing your fingers through his, before guiding him back across the kitchen.

#thomas hewitt x reader #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slashers #slasher #my writing

454 notes · View notes

dulceateez · 3 years

Text

𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡!𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳

𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘫𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘨

it wasn’t anything extraordinary, nothing out of the ordinary from him. he’s a gentleman. always has been and always will be. he treats everyone with the same amount of respect and love, but this time was different. after a surprise practice fire drill, you rush along with your classmates into the bitter fall wind, hugging your arms close to your chest. your legs shivering and lips trembling. you mentally scold yourself for wearing such a thin outfit. but here comes your hero; with a big hoodie in his hand. you slip into the clothing and wallow in his cozy, floral, manly scent. you look up at him to thank him but his arm wraps around your shoulders and brought you closer to his body. your cheeks turned crimson and you melt into his warmth, forgetting about the harsh cold; “y/n-ah, how can you wear such an outfit when it’s so cold outside! you need to dress warmer now, keep my hoodie for when you walk home today.”

𝘴𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘸𝘢

you didn’t know him prior to this interaction; heard of him. yes, of course you’ve heard of him. everyone has a crush on this boy and you understand the appeal. still, you’ve never felt the butterflies in your stomach when he flashes a smile in the direction of you and your friends. at least not until that subtle touch you felt on the small of your back as he passed by. who knew the crowded hallway could feel so empty after experiencing the seonghwa effect. what made your heart race was when he turned to flash you a smirk so devilish that it sent you straight to heaven. did you just fall for the more unattainable guy in this school? yes. do you regret it? no. you felt your mind warp into one like his followers.’ perhaps you dressed yourself up more and paid extra attention to your actions after the encounter; something you’ll never admit to yourself or anyone else. you want to feel his effect once more and that’s exactly why you fell for him.

𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘰

he’s the sweet boy next door, an eager puppy that always awaits your arrival, stalking your movements with child-like admiration. he finds you absolutely beautiful, since the day he moved in, but you’re taking longer to come around. but tonight changes the way you view him. your day was stressful, tear inducing even, and you just want to lay in bed and snuggle your favorite stuffed animal. the puppy analyzes your movements from afar and springs into action when you stomp right into your room as opposed to going into the kitchen for a snack like always. you lay in a puddle of your own self-pity when you hear thuds against your windowpane, you pull back the curtains and look down to see the homey boy smiling up at you with a bag of your favorite chips in hand. he gives it a shake, as if he’s coaxing you, you open the window up for him to climb into and he wastes no time in engulfing you in a bear hug. you replace the golden retriever plushy with him. as the two of you lay, not saying a single word, your heart starts to beat fast against his stomach; “y/n? are you nervous? do i make you nervous! you make me so nervous but i love it.”

𝘺𝘦𝘰𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘨

how can someone not fall for such a sweet little human? his hair is fluffy like cotton candy, cheeks puffy like mochi, eyes shinning brighter than the hard chocolate coating on candies. while his voice is as deep as the ocean it seems, his kind words contrast his tone. you often dreamt about the feelings of his lips; are they soft like clouds or do they send you to them? there was never one moment that solidified your attraction to him. from the first time you saw him, you’ve only had eyes for him. however, when you saw him giggling softly with his group of loud friends. the stark contrast between their bold and loud behavior and his gentle nature makes your heart go crazy. you suddenly became jealous--wanting to be the reason behind his laughter and his smiles, wanting to be the reason why he’s so bright and cheery. perhaps one day you will be.

𝘴𝘢𝘯

dimples. his cute little dimples. a dimpled boy like him never goes unnoticed. that’s how you noticed him, his cute smile and even cuter dimples. he sat across from you in the library once, taking notes from his textbook and writing them down on notebook paper. you admired him from afar. he was doing the same thing, raking his eyes over your body and face. finally, you built up the courage to introduce yourself to him and your fixation on his grew into a crush just by the way his eyes looked up at you: charming and hopeful. he removed his backpack from the seat next to him and invited you to sit down with him, a welcoming smile the whole time. while the two you studied independently, he kept sliding silly drawings under your fingertips. that’s when you knew for certain that you fell for the dimpled boy. and you fell for him hard after he asked you, “wanna go out and get a coffee or something after?”

𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪

who knew being burnt by your newly bought cup of coffee could end so sweetly? you’ve long forgotten about the burning sensation when you locked eyes with the empathetic set of eyes that stared back at you. annoyed? yes. but how can someone stay mad at an innocent face like his? you’ve seen him around the campus, always thought he was attractive, but a handsome face doesn’t leave and impression on you. however, him stripping out of his hoodie to give to you, leaving him in a very thin white t-shirt, made your heart swoon. he panicked upon seeing your skin turn into red. not knowing what else to do, he gently took your wrist and guided you into the nurses office where he stood by you every step of the way. even offered to take you to the hospital; but you two settled on him buying you a new cup of coffee...of course he joins you as well.

𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨

the cockiness he has drives you crazy in the worst way possible. you hate his smirks and hate his abrupt laughter. what you don’t hate is how friendly and social he is--you’re envious of those traits. he treats everyone like he’s their buddy and makes sure everyone is included somehow. you’re more on the shy side and an easy target for bullies to pick on, that’s why you didn’t believe him when he spoke so kindly to you. but the moment that made you realize that your heart has fallen for him? when he scared off the bullies. you’ve never seen this side of him; snarling teeth, fist balled, veins on his neck prominent with anger. after seeing you on the brink of tears after having insults thrown your way, he can’t just sit around and enable this behavior by not saying anything. the friendly, but somewhat annoying, facade disappears. he shakes the guy by his collar, venom being spit on his face. once he scared the man out of his wits, he turns to you and approaches you softly, gently grabbing your hands; “has he been bothering you lately? i’ll make sure he never even looks in your direction.”

𝘫𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘰

such a sultry voice with high notes that reach the gods surrounding the earth, how can someone just move on from this type of singing? it was an immediate attraction to the anonymous man behind the honey voice. you began to wonder what he may look like--setting your expectations higher than the notes he is able to sing. you never built up the courage to peek into the music room and steal a glance and you always chickened out on staying after to see who leaves the room. it wasn’t until the day of the school’s choir when you found out who the voice belonged to. the quiet kid steps up to the mic and begins singing; your ears perked up instantly. the voice so familiar and you knew from exactly where. he stared at you as he sang the sweet lyrics, never breaking eye contact despite his solo ending. you felt alone in the audience, like everyone has disappeared and now it’s just him serenading you, warmth is all you felt.

◌ 𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ◌ @blaqpinksthetic @tinkerbellwoo

336 notes · View notes

quirklessidiot · 3 years

Text

Title: pretty eyes [short story] Pairing: Gojo Satoru x gn!reader [soulmate au; takes place eight years before the yuuji and sukuna fusion] Genre: josei, romance, fluff, comedy, and your normal tragic angst!

Summary: in which the right eye is mine and the left eye is yours and when we meet for the first time, you see your own eyes staring back at you. Warnings: language, blood, minor manga spoilers, mild ooc gojo and death

Notes: can we all just sit down admire satoru? Like the eyes man, the attitude omg... Ah im so sorry in advance if hes ooc here sksksk it is my first time to write about any jjk characters and I havent fully grasped them yet despite reading the manga anyways i wont be online next week and tomorrow so i decided to publish this ahead of time. ily all and again thank you for the love and support, it does mean a lot *bows down* see you all again when i’ve got time? jskskss i fucking hate college and online classes, satoru save me please soulmate au’s [not read in any particular order nor are they connected, they just share the same trope] Pretty eyes [gojo vers.] || lasting blues [toji vers]

tragic soulmate au series || taglist

“Pretty.” were the very first words you uttered in complete awe as you saw yourself in the mirror and no, this wasn’t directed to your physical appearance. It was directed to your left eye, the eye of your soulmate.

Contrasting to your normal boring color on the right, your soulmate’s eyes were ethereal and unreal. How could someone have such pretty eyes? It was completely surreal at that point that you refused to believe that someone with these eyes were actually human.

You placed one hand and gently caressed the left side of your face where the pretty eye rested, “You must be an angel.” you muttered, “Only angels have pretty eyes.”

Thus like every child you gave your soulmate a nickname, ‘pretty angel’ and every night before you slept, you’d wonder out loud how your pretty angel was doing, if they were nearby, or anything like that. You wonder what type of food they like, do they like to leave the window open for a cool wind or do they like their chocolate hot or iced.

Yet as you grew older, the pretty angel faded out into your thoughts. The pretty idea of soulmates and love disappeared like the story books you read as a child. The pretty blue eyes on your left is forgotten as life takes a toll on you.

They say death was inevitable, when your mother died in middle school, you watch as your father’s left eye turn to your mother’s color. You watched as he clenched her hand, like it was some last resort of plea. You watched him cry as he passed by the mirrors and you wondered, would it hurt like that too?

It baffles you how beautiful and cruel the soulmate system was.

How every time your father would stare at his own reflection, his left eye would be nothing but a reminder of your dead mother.

You let out a second meek cough in the quiet bookstore that night, the sounds of the car passing by were nothing but quiet noise to you as you immerse yourself in the literature book you were reading, your students would surely love this one.You let out another cough as you turn around to find a small space to read since standing for too long made you tired too quickly.

You’re too enchanted by the words of the author that you don’t even notice the rather tall man in front of you.

You look up, ready to give a quiet apology but stop short when you notice how ethereal the stranger looked. Albeit he wore a pair of weird Lennon shades at this time of night, he reminded you very much of an angel with his snow white hair.

You don’t even notice how your left eye is returning back to it’s normal color, the stranger does though and it surely was odd to see his eyes on a stranger.

“Well,” the stranger has a shit-eating grin decorating his handsome features, he definitely looked like trouble for sure, “This is unexpected.”

He lowers his shades and your eyes immediately widen as you suddenly cup the left side of your face, you’d recognize those unique eyes anywhere, after all, you had those on your left eye since you were born, “Y-You.” you muttered, the shock momentarily eating you up.

“Yeah, me.” He grins, loving the sudden attention, “Wow, I was expecting something like fireworks or flowers to appear.” He suddenly teased, bending down to your level.

Now that you notice it, he was very, very tall.

“I…” You blink, trying to gain your composure, “Wow…”

“Did I pass your expectations?” it’s been a few minutes since you started talking and all he has been doing is teasing you.

“You do look like an angel.” You complimented and his eyes widened at the rather out-of-place compliment, “Your eyes are very pretty, thanks for letting me borrow them for twenty-two years.”

Gojo Satoru thought he had the upper-hand, after all, you looked quite meek but when you said those compliments, he was sure that you were going to be the teasing one in this whole-soulmate thing.

So he tries to one up you.

“I’m Satoru Gojo but you can call me tonight.” He grinned, trying to tease you once again, the corny pick up line sounds suave but your blank expression says otherwise.

“I’m Y/N L/N and think I should call you in the morning, it is quite late right now and I still have classes at eight am.” You mumbled, looking down at your watch, “How about you just walk me home, then?”

“Okay.” Satoru immediately raises his hands, signaling that he was giving up, “First off, you should be more hyper aware that I may be a serial killer.”

“Are you?”

“What?”

“Are you a serial killer?” you repeat, “That would be awfully disappointing if my soulmate was one since I’d immediately give you up on the police. I’m not interested in being in a Bonnie and Clyde type of thing and I think it’s too early for me to die.”

“You’re very upfront about these sorts of things.”

“Well, you’re very teasing for someone who just met their soulmate a few minutes ago.” you shrug, “So, are you going to walk me home or not?”

“Ah, bossy too. I love the attitude already.”

“We’re spending our whole lives together. You might as well get used to it.”

You’d think the idea of soulmates would scare you after the firsthand experience with your parents but curiosity always got the best of you and the white-haired man proved that maybe it would be different this time.

Throughout the few months you’ve spent with him, You’ve noticed that Gojo Satoru and you may be alike in some ways but in most ways, he was different.

First, he was enigmatic. You’ve known the man for a couple of months now and you’ve been going out on dates but you don’t know much about him except that like you, he’s a teacher at a good school and he tends to be conceited when he talks about his personal skills as a teacher.

“...What are you doing?” Satoru asked, peeking from behind your shoulder as you type in the grades of your student for your class.

“I’m grading my students.” You muttered, it was after dinner at your place and he was lazing around your place, the sound of faint jazz music could be heard throughout your small space and the wafting smell of freshly baked brownies filled the room, “Aren’t you supposed to be doing something since you're a teacher?”

Satoru quirks a brow as if you had said something odd then it seemed like realization had dawn upon him at that moment.

“Ah, I’m not doing much since my students are on break.”

“Didn’t you say that last time?”

Silence filled the room and Satoru breaks it off with his very famous ‘heh’ that made you inwardly roll your eyes and chunk the pillow that you’ve been hugging towards his direction, “Stop slacking off, you’re a teacher.” You scold him mildly, followed by a small cough.

“Ah, Y/N-chan. You’re so mean to me,” He frowned, handing you the mug filled with water, “...No fair.”

“You're a teacher and you’re slacking off.” You deadpanned, ignoring his sly ways of trying to get you in his arms, “How is that even fair?”

“My students can handle themselves so well that I don’t need to babysit them.” He hmphed, arms crossed and head held up high in a rather arrogant manner. You could only only scoff back a reply at his rather haughty attitude but you’ve gotten used to it to the point where you just roll your eyes.

“You’re a very bad teacher, Satoru.”

“Hey, I am considered one of the best and it’s an honor-”

You clicked your tongue and just pinched his cheek in reply to get him to stop drawling on about his achievements. You wondered if you dated a man child or something.

Second, despite his teasing nature and good looks, he’s a rather shy bean and has some insecurities about it too, maybe it was because there were moments where you couldn’t really understand your soulmate and his puzzling life. He didn’t tell and you didn’t want to pry because you technically both had your whole life to get around that subject.

Luckily, you seem to have found a remedy for moments like that.

“Satoru…” You called out to your soulmate who was staring at the nutrition content of the wafers on his hand, “Satoru!”

“Oh, sorry. What were you talking about?” he finally snapped out of his daze and turned to you who was standing there, hand on your hip. The crispy wafers on his hand are long forgotten.

Your soulmate is good looking, alright. If anyone were to pass by him they wouldn’t see the minor zilch of worry in his eyes.

“Are you alright?” You ask, walking closer to him, completely serious.

“...You aren’t going to leave me, right?”

You raise a brow at the sudden question, wasn’t he too young to have some mid-life crisis? Was this because of the soulmate movie you watched late last night about the soulmate leaving their other half to rebel against the system and because of his partner’s family?

“Why would I leave you?”

He blinks once, then twice, the only sound that could be heard was the familiar music playing throughout the grocery store, it was as if no one was there during the mid-day. Satoru proceeds to look away, “I don’t know. What if you realize that you don’t like me as your soulmate and you followed what the dude did in the movie?” he started to mumble, mouth pressed on a straight line.

“Ah, the whole rich in-laws.” you blinked, “Don’t tell me you’re a son of some huge clan in japan that’s loaded and I’m going to be a disgrace to your family name or something?”

It came out as a joke at first, it really did and you were going to laugh but when you notice the straight face he has on, you realize it was anything but a joke.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, Oh.”

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one asking that question then?”

“What?” He almost half-yelled, eyes wide behind his usual shades that he seemed to wear a lot, “That doesn’t make sense!”

“Neither does your question, Satoru.” You frowned, massaging your temples, “I should be the one asking you that, are you going to leave me?”

“Of course not.” He sputters out.

“Then there goes my answer too.” You replied, huffing out as you grab the sweet wafers on his hand to put into the cart, “You’re very weird.”

“You’re weird.”

“No, you are.”

“You seriously asked me if I’d leave you because of your rich family in the middle of the day.” You deadpanned, inching closer to him to the point where your lips are brushing against his.

“This is unfair.” He huffed, suddenly turning red, “You’re attacking me in broad daylight.”

“Oh dear.” Your beguiling eyes, enjoying his rather embarrassed state, “This isn’t attacking, Satoru.”

Then you closed the distance between you two, his eyes seemed to widen behind his shades at your forward approach, clearly you guys never did PDA. You took this as an opportunity to lick his lower lip so you could slip your tongue in and as he starts getting into it and placing his hand to cup your ass, you pull away with a big smile on your lips, “That’s attacking.” you grinned.

Satoru seemed to have regained his senses quickly after that rather heated public make-out session, he placed his hand on top of his mouth and feigned embarrassment, “My, My, I didn’t think you’d enjoy those types of things in public.” he was back to his normal teasing self.

Well, that seemed to have worked very well.

“Mhm,”

Yet unknown to you those thoughts still lingered in his head, it wasn’t just his family that he was worried about, it was also regarding his job as a jujutsu sorcerer something he has yet to mention, he’s not even sure if you’d believe him it’s a normal occurrence for people like him to die in this occupation and he’s scared that one day, you’ll see your left eye turning back to his eye color with no valid explanation.

Not only that but the amount of people who’d go after you to get to him, he clenched on the shopping cart tightly

“I’m tired.” You cut his thoughts short and Satoru turns to you, unlike him, you weren’t physically active so you tire easily, even joking around that you were a granny in a child’s body, “Can we sit down after this and get some gyudon?”

“Sure Y/N.” he grins, giving you a one-arm hug and kissing your temple.

Third, he’s terrible with kids, period, no questions asked.

Your eyes narrowed to slits as he brought in one of his students named Megumi, the boy is quiet and compared to your giant and teasing soulmate, he’s serious. In fact he was more serious than the tiny pinky of the white-haired man.

“...Are you kidnapping a third grader?”

“He’s one of my students.”

“You don’t even know the first thing of looking after kids.” You pointed out, “And didn’t you mention that you teach high school students?”

“Well,” he drawled on, “It’s kind of a long story but he’s technically a genius.”

You let out a stifling sigh, “You’re impossible.” you mutter, bending down to the small boy’s level, “Would you like something to eat in compensation for him annoying you?”

The boy nods mutely.

“I wasn’t annoying him!” He corrects.

“He looks very annoyed standing next to you.”

“That’s literally what he looks like!”

You roll your eyes in reply and turn to the young boy, handing him a pastry that you had brought earlier. You watched Megumi eat his pastry in front of the television that played some child-friendly show as you let out a soft cough and pour yourself some water

“Are you alright?” Satoru asks, resting his head on your shoulders.

“Yeah,” You replied, “Why’d you ask?”

“You’re looking quite pale these days.”

“Maybe it’s the allergy season, already.” you nonchalantly replied, taking another gulp of water, “You’re terrible with kids, by the way.”

“That’s why I’m a high school teacher, Y/N.”

This connects you to your fourth observation, he’s nonchalant and easy going but he harbors a rather deep worry for you to the point where you wonder if he was really your soulmate or your mother incarnate. Three years into the whole soulmate thing with him, you still couldn’t help but think that he’s doting nature was quite adorable.

You feel like you’re coming down with a cold these days, your head has been throbbing and your cough is worsening. Satoru’s eyes are filled with nothing but worry as he handed you some medication. Your soulmate was now a mother hen and if it were different circumstances, you’d laugh it off.

“We should go to the doctor.” He nagged you once again.

“I’m literally going to sleep it off.” You hoarsely replied, “I’ll be fine, Satoru.”

“You literally sound like you smoked a pack with your voice, are you sure?”

“I am.” You glared, “Don’t sleep-”

Before you could even finish what you were saying, he flops right next to you in the bed, “-I literally told you to not sleep next to me.” you scolded him.

“A mere cold won’t phase me.”

“I swear to god, Gojo Satoru. I’ll kick you out.” He ignores your ministrations and snuggles his head on your neck, his warm breath tickling it, “You’re impossible.”

“You love me.”

“Sadly.”

“Hey.”

“I’m kidding.” you let out a quiet chuckle, looking down at your soulmate and running your hands through his white hair, “I love you very much, you idiot.”

“Hard same.”

“Never mind, I take it back.” you giggle.

And after a rather short playful banter between you two, you find yourself sleeping and snuggling on his long limbs. You think all is well, you really do. That was until you wake up later at three am in the morning with a loud coughing fit. Satoru immediately sits upright and opens your nightlight but what he sees next, scares him more than the curses he has ever encountered.

Your sheets are now stained in blood from the coughing fit that had just happened and you're completely taken aback too, completely breathless.

“Y-Y/N…” He gulps down, quickly taking the sheets away from you, “Let’s go to the hospital now, please?”

“...L/N-san, have you been getting coughing fits before this?” the doctor asks, looking up from your chart. Satoru watches you shake your head as you clench the paws of his jacket, the doctor takes off his glasses, “How about coughs that don’t seem to go away? Getting tired too easily?”

Satoru doesn’t like where this was going, he doesn’t like where this was going at all.

“Um, just some dry coughs and I’ve always been an inactive person.” You quietly replied, contrasting to your usual bright and teasing demeanor, you looked too tired this morning and Satoru just hopes it’s because he dragged you out of bed at four am to get yourself checked asap.

“Y/N-san, has any of your family members been diagnosed with lung cancer?”

The whole room is silent and you could almost hear a pin drop, Satoru feels his knuckles suddenly turn white, “I recalled my okaasan died because of that.” You replied silently and the doctor nods feverishly.

“...Y/N-san...It pains me to say this but the reason you’ve been experiencing this is because of the tumors located in your lungs.” Satoru feels his heart drop when he hears those words, “We have to do further tests to confirm-”

“Do it.” Satoru cuts the old doctor off, his hands are visibly shaking already, he hopes that this was just a misdiagnosis, that this doctor was just a bad one or better yet whatever excuse his mind could make up at that moment, “Do all the tests needed for Y/N, please.”

Fifth, he’s very supportive towards you and your impulsive decisions. If he could join you in it, he would but you usually decide against it.

It’s another quiet night for you as you sit across from your soulmate at the dinner table. You’ve grown awfully thin and your hair was starting to fall off due to the chemoradiation, this day marked the third month since you found out that you have lung cancer just like your mother. Surgery was apparently too risky so the safest option right now was this treatment.

You don’t deny the anxiety eating you up every day, specifically the fear of death, you’re even more worried for Satoru since not only had he been paying for your treatment but he had opt to take care of you, saying that his job would be fine without him since you were going to get better soon anyways.

“Would you still love me if I shaved my hair?” You asked, your voice still quite hoarse.

“You kidding me? I’d still love you even if you turned into a roach.”

You immediately crinkle your nose in disgust, “That’s disgusting.”

“Honest reply.”

Truthfully, the man had been your rock these past three months. You knew how hard it was for him to be happy around you, how he had put on a brave front and remained positive saying that this was just going to be a rough couple of months and you’d be back in no time despite the bleak outlook.

It kept you sane amongst the tragedy.

“I wanna shave my hair.”

“Like right now?”

You nod, “Can we use your electric razor?”

“You want me.” he points to himself, “To cut your hair?”

“I wouldn’t want anyone else to do it.” You grinned.

And that’s how you ended up in your bathroom after dinner, Satoru’s shades on the side and his concentration directly on your scalp. You had literally told him that he just needed to do it the same way as he shaved his beard but he was still scared. Apparently, he had never shaved anyone’s hair before.

“...Okay, Y/N. Here goes…” He proclaimed, switching the razor on. As bits and pieces of your hair fall to the ground, you feel your cheeks getting wet and your shoulders tense, Satoru is quick to notice the switch of emotion and immediately turns the razor off before bending down in front of you, “Woah, woah… Y/N….”

“I-I…” Your lips are quivering as the tears fall faster when you see his pretty eyes staring back at yours, you try to let out a laugh but instead it comes out as a choke sob, “Sorry, this is stupid. I’m literally crying over fucking hair.”

“No, of course not…” He replies, enveloping you in a hug, “Of course not.”

Satoru feels you start to shake in his arms and he knows he should keep his emotions in check, he’s a sorcerer for crying out loud but seeing you break down for the first time in three months had him shaking too, you didn’t deserve all this, fuck, you didn’t deserve any of this at all!

“Would you like me to shave my hair so you’d feel a bit better?” he asks. After recovering from your breakdown, you had asked him to continue shaving your hair because you might as well be done with it.

“Please don’t.” You reply, wiping your tears away, “We’d look like eggs.”

“Cute eggs, you mean.” He corrects, teasing you and trying to cheer you up, this was all he could do and he hates it.

He really hates it.

What good was the title of being the strongest when he couldn’t save you from all of this?

Lastly, if you hadn’t highlighted it enough. He has pretty eyes, contrasting to your dull and boring ones, you always loved how different his eyes are. Sometimes you wondered why he dared to hide them behind his crappy and overused Lennon shades.

“Can I see them?”

Your room is dimly lit as Satoru sleeps next to you on the hospital bed, you were growing weaker and frailer by the day and you could see the toll it took on your soulmate. You were heavily reminded of your father who was sitting right next to your mother on her deathbed.

“See what?” He yawned.

“Your eyes.”

“You’re awfully in love with them, huh?”

“I’ve always been in love with them from the moment I saw it in the mirror.”

Silence envelopes the room with your statement and as requested, he takes the shades off and now you’re greeted by the most beautiful blue eyes that you love to look at in the reflection since you were a child, “Pretty.” You muttered, raising your frail hands slowly to cup his face, “Pretty eyes.”

Satoru takes in a deep breath as he places his hand on top of yours, the silence is heavy. You both know what’s about to come in the next few days, you’re lucky if you even last a night. Yet he doesn’t want to talk about it, he shuts the topic off quickly when you try to even raise it.

“Yeah.” he mumbles, staring at you, “Pretty.”

You let out a quiet laugh, “I doubt it, I’m anything but pretty now.” your voice hoarse, making him lightly squeeze your hands, “Will you be bringing Megumi tomorrow?”

“Yeah, the brat said he saved enough money to get you your favorite pastry.”

“That’s good.” you blinked, “I’m tired.”

Satoru feels his shoulder tense at your words, they were so plain yet at the same time so heavy, “Should I call the doctor?” he asks. You shake your head and just snuggle on his chest.

“No,” You mumbled, inhaling his scent and basking on his presence, “I want your warmth next to me.”

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“You know, you’ve always had prettier eyes.”

Yet you don’t reply and he feels your grip on his sweater lessen, he doesn’t even need to see his reflection to know that his left eye has returned back to your (e/c) ones.

taglist [if crossed out, it means you aren’t available for tags!]

@airybnb ; @hcn421 ; @shinhiromi

#jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen scenario #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo saturo x reader #saturo x y/n #jjk gojo #soulmate aus #pretty eyes

3K notes · View notes