#shards of the moon and stars | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

onlyswan · 10 months ago

Text

summary: in which you want to turn back the clock and jungkook wants you to stay.

idol!jungkook x reader, est. relationship / angst, fluff / word count: 5.8k

content/warnings: mistreatment of service workers / oc felt inappropriately touched by a customer (only mentioned in passing) / (oc works part-time in a restaurant) (then quits) / another dive into oc’s lore / allusion to death / grief grief grief / lots of crying :( / jk wants to move in together :") / mention of s*x (24/7=heaven?) / mention of period blood (they’re in diff contexts js to be clear lol) / u will get pissed and cry and laugh it’s fun <3

playlist! knees - iu ; chinese satellite - phoebe bridgers ; love wins all - iu

> in which masterlist

note: contains lil flashblacks from the giving up drabbles ^^ can be found in the timeline masterlist above this incase u haven’t read them and want to ^^ listen to love wins all when jungkook tells oc to wear their seatbelt (trust me). tried to encapsulate the epiphany of oh. everything’s going to be okay because i am loved when i’m at my lowest. as always reblogs & feedback are appreciated :") come chat!!

—

the rusty swing-set creaks as you unsteadily swing back and forth, staring lifelessly at your white socks and shoes stained with burnt orange. you look up to the sky but the moon and the stars are shrouded by the clouds. not even your favorite snack can poison your sadness with optimism. mouthful of bungeoppang, but you taste nothing, and every swallow only adds to the heaviness weighing on your chest.

your shift should be ending by now, which means you probably should be heading home, but your limbs have given up and refuses to move.

jungkook’s special ringtone ceaselessly disrupts the night scene’s quiet, but there’s no point in answering his calls when you know no words would come out of you.

“are you an imbecile?! you can’t understand basic instructions?!”

“ma’am, i’m so sorry. i’ll take it back and give you the right ord-”

“we’re fucking starving! move faster!”

you flinch as the bowl collides with the tiled floor, producing an ear-splitting sound that reverberates throughout the entire restaurant. you want to give the woman the benefit of the doubt and believe that she just shoved the bowl a little too harshly due to her frustration, but you have a hand over your mouth not due to shock, but the inexplicable pain of having your skin burnt by the piping hot soup… and she’s just… there.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry! please understand. she’s just in a bad mood. she’s not- she’s not usually like this.”

you stand on your spot, frozen and speechless, as her husband profusely apologizes. you’re only jolted out from trance when you feel him wiping your legs with crumpled tissue papers, a little too farther up for your comfort. a fleeting tug-of-war ensues when you forcefully rip them away from his hands. you thank him despite not meaning it.

you grip the edge of your skirt as you sit on your heels, picking up the broken shards of glass scattered across the floor. a concerned co-worker swoops in with a broom and you instantly jump the opportunity to save yourself from the mortifying stares, mumbling another thank you as you take your leave.

“you said table six.”

“____, i’m sorry. that was a fault on my part.”

your manager observes your current state. his stare lingers at your feet.

“but they don’t know that! she literally burnt me!”

“look, we don’t have to take this too far. it couldn’t have been that hot. we can see you’re still walking.” his condescending tone makes you feel so small, but it fuels the anger inside of you. “you don’t have to pay for the damages, so let’s just put this behind us.”

you gasp in disbelief, and it borders on a laugh. you feel crazy. you can’t believe this is actually happening to you. he can’t be fucking serious.

the workers in the kitchen remain quiet as tension arises, minds a tornado of thoughts but mouths remaining shut in fear of getting on the bad side of their superior.

“well you…” you hastily strip off your apron, bunching it up into one big ball. “don’t have to pay me anymore, because i fucking quit! i hope this place burns down!”

and you ensure that it hits him on the face before you turn around to march out of the kitchen. on the way out of the restaurant, you nonchalantly grab a bottle of water from the fridge, twisting off the cap as you push the door open. you leave a wet trail behind your steps as you pour the cold water over your feet, a poor attempt to soothe the sharp pain of the injury.

you know it will be alright eventually; you will heal, but this… this is leaving a permanent scar on your dignity.

with a vexed groan, you retrieve your vibrating phone from your pocket.

LAST EVICTION NOTICE— you do not even bother reading the rest of the words that come after that.

“fuck!” you scream, throwing the bottle at the nearest wall, hands coming up to your hair to roughly pull in frustration. the heels of your palm dig into your eyes and your knees give way to the ground. “this is a nightmare.”

it dawns on you that you’ve finally arrived at a surface on the rock bottom that you so awfully dread. you find yourself standing here— infront of the atm machine, staring blankly at the large number displayed on the screen. this money isn’t yours. this didn’t come from your blood, sweat, and tears. it’s an amount that you’re supposed to accept as a payment for the eulogies you had to deliver. you swore you would never do this, but desperate times come when you’re forced to swallow your pride and allow it to rot you from the inside.

you’re once again faced with the ugly difference between surviving and living.

you grab the cash, hastily pushing them inside the pocket of your jacket as if you’re being burnt by them. you feel so nauseous; if only emptying your stomach would untangle its knots.

you don’t need anything from anyone. this is the first and the last time, you swear to yourself in place of your defeated oath.

you don’t want jungkook to see you like this, helpless and hollow, the antonym of the sun he willingly flew too close to. you look pathetic seeking for solace in an abandoned playground, unfortunate soul stuck at fifteen, in denial of the passage of time.

but there goes your lover running towards you, calling out your name, and you begin praying for yourself to disappear into thin air.

much to your disappointment, no wiser being grants your plea, and now you have a man tucking you in his safe embrace, uncaring of his knees being bruised by the ground.

does he need to surprise you when you least anticipate his presence?

“i’ve been looking everywhere for you! i went to pick you up at the restaurant but they told me that you quit! what happened?”

he pulls away, tenderly cupping your cheeks in his warm hands.

“was it your boss again? it’s him, isn’t it? what did he do?”

jungkook dies a little inside. your glassy eyes study his face, a clear picture of distress and concern, but at the same time, they seem so far away… like you’re not certain if you’re truly here.

you unconsciously squirm— your feet retract themselves, escaping underneath the swing; and your ankles twist, and twist, one hiding behind the other.

this doesn’t feel like being stripped naked.

you feel like you’re being turned inside out.

“what’s wrong? baby…” he utters sadly as tears drip from your lashes—one by one— even they are lost and hesitant.

your distant stare remains.

he doesn’t know if you’re even aware that you’re crying. it’s a frightening sight and he doesn’t know what else to do. he holds you in his arms but you feel too stiff for this to be comfortable. the time passes, and he lets it do so in silence.

he waits for you to come back to him.

he waits, and waits, and waits.

“jungkook… i want to go home.”

“okay. i’ll bring you home, baby.” he strokes your hair, breathing out in relief. “yours? or mine?”

only for his world to crumble into pieces.

“my mom…” you whisper, breathless, releasing yourself from his embrace. “i want to be with my mom.”

and only then does he see traces of emotions written on your face.

“i miss my mom so much.”

the crack of your voice gives him an opening to catch a glimpse of your heart, that is but a mosaic of broken parts. pain, grief, longing… the past two years haven’t been enough to make him well-acquainted with the anatomy of your afflictions. he has only witnessed you speak of your family with a proud and affectionate beam; old stories that spark the agent of joy. and despite knowing that you must’ve been battling your pain all these years all alone, he couldn’t bring himself to meddle with how you handled your grief. however, if he’s going to be completely truthful, he was terrified of this— of seeing you so unmoored and broken. his pain is no comparison. quite frankly, it is an insult to yours.

“i miss her so, so, so much. what do i do? i…” you sobs become uncontrollable, overcome by the weight of the world crashing down on you.

how is it possible that you feel nothing and too much at the same time? is what you would often ask before, but today you realize that your pain simply goes beyond what any of your human parts is able to fathom.

“this is too hard… it’s too tiring. i can’t- i can’t. i don’t want to be here anymore. i’m always so scared. i don’t know what i’m doing anym-”

“shh, shhh, baby- baby, breathe for me-”

“how did my life end up like this? i don’t understand! the world- it’s so cruel- i can’t stand it.”

jungkook wipes away your tears, but it’s no use. once you break down, it becomes impossible to remedy. nonetheless, that doesn’t deter your boyfriend from trying. he gathers your weeping and trembling vessel in an attempt to glue you back together, and in while doing so, he also wills himself to be strong for you.

“why did she have to go after them and leave me all alone here? am i not her child too?”

the obtuse questions you’ve been too afraid to ask out loud are being brought out in the open, spilling out from the torn seams of your soul as they’ve become too agonizing to annihilate over and over and over again.

you know the answer. you know she didn’t want to leave.

but you can’t help but to be angry at the fact that her heart gave up. you don’t understand why it had to happen and why you’re being grinded in the mouth of the world.

“i’m tired, i’m so tired. it’s so unfair… i need her with me too…”

jungkook squeezes his eyes shut, gently rocking your tangled bodies — a defense mechanism. you’re succumbing to defeat as if it’s been long overdue; even your voice is giving up on you.

if he had to imagine, the earth must have shared his current dread when it witnessed a solar eclipse for the first time, wired to assume the worst of perpetual darkness.

“jungkook…”

your weak fists desperately grasping at the fabric of his hoodie— the final thread you are hanging on. your words break into stutters and hiccups, salty tears slipping past your lips and stirring their bitter taste.

“i just want to go and be my mom’s child again.”

and he would truly fucking hate to try and get into the implication of your words, but if jungkook is going to be completely truthful— he is terrified beyond words can say. of this; of witnessing you slip away from everything you’ve ever known; of losing you. maybe he’s being selfish, but whatever it takes, he will make you stay.

he swallows the lump in his throat, hurriedly drying his eyes with his sleeve before facing you.

“listen to me, okay…?” his voice isn’t enough to pull your head from underwater; he lightly taps your cheek, even though it breaks his heart. “hey, hey, hey. look at me, baby- look at me.”

he searches for your eyes, begging them to focus on him. and it’s silly, what he does next, pressing a kiss to your lips as if this is a fairytale. but then it works— you tilt your head to subtly nuzzle your cheek against his palm— and he has to quickly recover from being taken aback. you effortlessly make a slave out of his heart.

“you never stopped being her child. and that will never happen! because even with them being gone, you haven’t stopped trying your best to be a good child and older sibling to them. i… i’m a witness to that. every single day. are you hearing me?”

can he get some sort of sign whether he is doing this right or wrong?

“you’re not alone here because you have me. you do know that, right?”

and you want to believe him… you do. but just like how you’re clinging onto him right now for dear life, you can’t forget how you had to beg him to stay.

“so stop working all these jobs! please, i’m begging you! it must also break your mom’s heart to see you torturing yourself like this. it’s not healthy! just focus on studying and let me take away your burdens, please?”

you stop breathing; your features soften like you’ve made it out of a nightmare.

“jungkook…”

“let’s live together, baby.” he sounds sure; he sounds steady, but the waver of his eyes beseeches you. “you’ve been so good to me, even when i didn’t deserve it. please… let me love you in my own way too.”

“stop. i told you… i’m still thinking about it.” you say meekly, avoiding his intense gaze. “i mean, let’s be honest. what would your family even think of me? your aunt already hates me. what if she uses this to prove that she was right about me and-”

“fuck what everyone else thinks. i couldn’t care less.”

the reminder of the disrespect you were subjected to because of him has him seething all over again. his jaw clenches in anger, and he feels obligated to take a deep breath so he can keep himself composed. growing up, he was always taught to be the bigger person, but he simply can’t implore himself to do that if it means turning a blind eye to your hurt.

“i won’t let her get away with that type of bullshit so don’t even bother thinking about her anymore. i’ll take care of it. we can’t let that get into our heads. right, baby? we said that?” his thumb caresses your cheek softly, and you hold on to his wrist, silent as you try to understand him through the thick haze clouding your mind. “i want to be with the person i love. how could that be so wrong?”

you slowly shake your head in response, a little hesitant.

“i won’t leave again. no matter how hard you push me away, i will stay within your reach.”

and here he is, kneeling infront of you, seeking to make true of what he solemnly vowed to you.

are you going to take this away from him? after everything you’ve gone through together?

he is the only thing you have left to lose.

“i love you.” you whisper, initiating the hug this time.

you’re holding him tight, like you don’t ever want to let go, and it brings jungkook to the brink of tears once more.

“i love you so much.”

he sweetly kisses your cheek, but when you pull away to give him that look, a wordless command for more, his lips finally meet yours for the first time in forty-eight hours. they slowly curve into a smile, not at all surprised that he’s tasting sugar. he’d go through hell and back to experience this kind of kiss one time, only to do it all over again.

“let’s go home?”

you blink at him cluelessly. you don’t know why he’s wearing a dimpled smile out of the blue, neither do you know which home he is referring to. nevertheless, you intertwine your fingers with his, choosing to save yourself from this forlorn neverland.

there’s just… one teeny… tiny problem…

“shit,” you mutter to yourself, freezing on your tracks.

“what’s wrong?”

you awkwardly glance down at your shoes, the origin of the squeaky sound that was impossible to be missed by your ears. after inspecting you from head to toe, a worried expression morphs on his face, and you can only show him a shy wince in response.

“i don’t want to make your car dirty.”

“baby…”

his chest feels so much heavier. he is nearly blinded with red. he wants to scream and be infuriated. what the fuck happened back there?

you merely shrug, sending him a forced smile. “do you still have those extra slippers?”

—

“jungkook, i can do it myself.”

he clicks his tongue, his hand around your calf gripping. “stay still!”

you watch him from the passenger seat, your legs dangling from the edge as he carefully takes off your shoes and socks, yet again kneeling on the ground.

“does it hurt a lot?”

“not… a lot.” you answer through gritted teeth.

perhaps the stinging never did quell; it was just pushed to the back of your mind when more painful things surfaced succeeding it.

“who did this to you, huh? i need to go back there and make them pay! what kind of decent human being would do that?!”

“a miserable woman in a miserable marriage.”

in her eyes, you may be naive and she, the decades old wiser— but who is the one with a lover who would wash not their dirty hands, but their feet that have walked a million miles?

“i feel bad for her.” you comment absentmindedly.

you’re too far deep in awe watching jungkook gingerly clean your bare feet with his hands and a bottle of cool water, doing what you were meant to do earlier, if only granted that you weren’t erupting with rage.

“____, you’re too nice.”

“you’re too nice.” you argue. “also, those shoes are hopeless. just throw them away.”

he glances at you with fondness, shaking his head as he softly pats you dry with a clean towel. you stifle a gasp. it’s no longer as bad as before, but your skin still feels warm and raw. this wasn’t in the job description. you decide that you can practice empathy, as well as your strong belief in karma, at the same time. at this moment, you hope that the universe is already crafting tricks up its sleeve, because you’re in a world of fucking pain.

“there you go. wait until we get off the car before you wear the slippers, alright? and you’re not allowed to wear tight shoes.”

he rises to his feet, not wasting the opportunity to steal a kiss.

“yeah, it was wildly uncomfortable.” you mumble against his lips, tugging at his collar to properly respond to his display of affection. “thank you.”

“wear your seatbelt.” his eyes shines with a glint of with uncontainable excitement. “we’re going home.”

—

you stir as jungkook gently shakes your body awake, his muffled voice gradually becoming clearer as you gain your consciousness.

“wake up, baby. we’re here.”

you tiredly rub off the sleep from your swollen eyes, discovering your boyfriend waiting for you where the door of the passenger seat should be.

“let’s get you some more rest.” he places a chaste kiss on your forehead, before standing aside to make way for you, offering his hand as a gentleman.

you must still be dreaming. you assumed he would bring you to his apartment, but you do not recognize this place. this is a different parking space, a different parking lot.

“um… t-this is…” you stumble on your words, feeling lost. “where are we?”

“home,” he smiles, the kind that reaches his eyes and turn them into little crescent moons.

you must still be dreaming. the clock attached to a nearby pillar strikes midnight, and unbeknownst to you, a brand new day awaits beyond the dark and empty sky.

you were so thoroughly convinced that you’ve been living a life past the point of salvation… but life stands before you overflowing with hope and glowing with ardor.

you take his hand and allow him to whisk you away to another world.

—

this is beginning to feel real, jungkook thinks as he presses the elevator button. earlier’s excitement becomes interweaved with nervousness. he’s a little dizzy as the giant box ascends. if you feel his hand’s growing clamminess, you don’t show it, your clasp still as firm as before.

“you bought another house…”

“hmm, but this one is a secret.” a confession that is yours truly. “this one is ours.”

your eyes wordlessly speak with each other. neither of you imagined following your hearts could materialize your future plans to the present time. what goes beyond dreaming of beautiful things is still foreign to the both of you, but jungkook is here, willing to free fall with you.

the elevator dings.

he guides you through a well-lit hallway, to a door, and you pay close attention as he punches in the passcode— another set of numbers you ought to have memorized alongside birthdays and anniversaries and id numbers.

your heart races but everything else moves in slow motion. the door opens and you get swallowed by the need to remember every moment so vividly as if you’re reliving it.

the first time you set foot into your own apartment,, the empty space daunted you despite its modest dimensions. however, right now, your head is tracing half of a circle, from left to right, just to study this large space in its entirety— and all you can think about are the endless possibilities forming intimate images of a sanctuary in your head— a place where fears and sadness can co-exist with tenderness and joy.

beside you, jungkook patiently holds your hand.

“this one is ours…” you repeat the words, more so to convince yourself, and they drip with disbelief.

you follow his lead as he walks to the other half of the room, bare feet sliding across the floor.

“this is the living room, and the other side is the kitchen.”

he faces you with a wide grin, the kind he wears when he wants to tell you something he is proud of.

“i was thinking that if we get a big television bolted on the wall…”

he gestures to the blank canvas, letting go of your hand to draw an invisible rectangle on the air with his arms fully outstretched.

“then we can easily watch even from the kitchen.”

he puffs up his chest, side-eyeing you expectantly.

“genius, right?”

“and greedy.” you blink. “i don’t think that’s safe to do while you’re cooking.”

“but i’ll be very, very careful!”

“that’s the bare minimum when you’re holding a knife.”

“okay! i look forward to arguing with you about that on a different day!”

his enthusiasm doesn’t waver. in fact, it is fueled. how could it not? when you’re starting to sound exactly like a couple who lives together?

he captures your wrist and tugs you towards the other side of the room, but you pull him back with a noise of protest.

“are we not going to address…” you hang on to your words, eyes wandering to the floor where there are signs of living. “whatever is going on here?”

a single mattress with a single pillow; a folded blanket neatly sitting on top of it. surrounding them are bottles of water, a laptop, a speaker, and a basket of what you assume are skincare products.

“i’ve been sleeping here lately…”

“i can see that.”

“i didn’t want to buy furnitures yet while you haven’t given me an answer… i just thought that if we’re living together, then we should decide on those things as a couple.”

…he dips down to kiss you. “it was hell without you…”

his teeth captures your bottom lip, nipping at the supple flesh.

“going to build a life with you. i’ll build furniture, and they’re going to be ours.”

jungkook feels your stare. oblivious of your thoughts reigning chaos, he tilts his head in question.

how long has he been planning this?

“you okay?”

you blink away the tears brimming your eyes. you shake your head, clinging to his arm. “where were you taking me?”

“this is the kitchen!”

a smile of contentment graces your lips. you’re guilty of admiring the pure, unadulterated joy on jungkook’s face instead of what he is passionately endorsing to you.

“this is the fridge!” he presents to you, swinging the door open. “but there’s nothing inside.”

“what are you saying? there is something.”

the two of you peer at the green can of soda, chilsung cider, left at a far corner. the refrigerator light casts over your curious faces.

“oh, that’s still there?”

the animated sound of your giggles prompts him to look at you, and he couldn’t be more glad to be laughing with you again, bellies aching at the same time.

“do you want it?”

“it’s not peach.”

“let’s move on then!”

there are cups of ramyeon and packs of dried seaweed on the countertop, the photo of his dinner that he sent last night still vivid in your memory. your hand daintily brushes across the white marble, stealing a feel as jungkook drags you to a new space.

“this is the second kitchen and laundry room!”

he waits for a reaction as you survey the room and its overhead cabinets.

“it’s not supposed to be the pantry…? eh, you know what? cooking and doing laundry are more of your thing so you can have them however you want.”

you turn on your heel to walk away, and jungkook follows behind you, celebrating his victory by punching the air and whisper-shouting a yeah!

“what’s here?”

you reach another hallway beside the living room.

“what’s here?” he zooms past you to open a door. “bathroom. there’s a bathtub! but i still need to install grip bars so no one will slip.”

he needs to stop saying things that make you want to make him your husband on the spot.

“and we have my favorite part! the master bedroom, of course!” he swings the door open on the other side. “where else would we spend the most time in?”

“wow, really? i thought you were also endorsing the living room as the bedroom.” you jokingly quirk an eyebrow.

“nonsense!” he cheekily chides you. “you deserve better than that.”

you take a step, peeking inside the empty room that you estimate to be as twice as larger than yours. you can’t say that you care so much about its size, because behind the white curtains, you reel at the prospect of the natural light shining over your face every time you wake up. your mornings have been gloomy since you arrived at seoul four years ago.

he sneaks his arms around your waist, your back resting against his chest, and your being feels so light you might just begin floating when he lets go.

“let’s stay like this for a while.”

“okay,” he puts his chin on top of your shoulder, his soft smile becoming permanent.

the two of you stand at the bedroom’s doorway; the cusp of what could be your entire lives.

“what’s that other room?”

“which one?”

“i don’t know. i see it from the side of my eye.”

he cackles at your humorous nonchalance. “i have more to show you. there’s a guest room… if we decide it to be.”

“cute. i have somewhere else to sleep when i’m mad at you.”

“that’s fine,” he replies after a beat of silence. “at least i’d know where to find you.”

“don’t make me change my mind.”

he cries out your name childishly, burying his face by the crook of your neck. he hugs you tighter. he wants to sleep every night drowning in the sweet scent of your hair. if he had to choose, it would be the most peaceful way to go.

“we have a walk-in closet too!”

“i expected nothing less.” you giggle, not a stranger to his lifestyle. “what’s exciting is that we can finally have a big bed.”

“but i like our small beds.”

“cuddling isn’t all that fun during the summer. trust me, you’d eventually want space.”

“nuh-uh! that’s what aircons are for!”

you roll your eyes at his persistence. “then why did you choose such a huge apartment if you wanted a small bed?”

“so we can have all the space to slow-dance to love songs.”

jungkook, ever the charmer. the butterflies in your stomach come alive beneath his embrace.

“why are you suddenly quiet?” he laughs. “was that too cheesy?”

“no!”

“really?” he spins you around, and heat creeps to your cheeks when he leans in so close that you can perfectly distinguish the brown in his eyes. “so have you given it more thought?”

“given what more thought?”

“there’s nothing to be scared of. it’s only the two of us here, see?” he tells you like overeager puppy. “will you move in with me?”

if this is a dream, you wish to never wake up from it. to have a person care for you this deeply and unconditionally, you want to believe that you have done something right to deserve it.

“i just don’t think you understand what you’re getting yourself into.”

his eyebrows knit together in defense. “what does that mean?”

“the thing is… yeah, sex 24/7 and cuddling and having first times together, that sounds amazing and all… but living with me would probably drive you crazy.”

a tired yawn almost interrupts the end of your sentence, and you cover your face out of courtesy. you sniffle and wipe your teary eyes with the back of your hand.

“i’ve lived on my own for so long. i’m messy and clumsy and i’m used to having everything my way… i mean… i’m willing to compromise, but i can’t promise i won’t be insufferable as hell about it.”

“ah, seriously! you scared me for nothing!” he exclaims, throwing his head back with a groan. “baby, i’ve been living with six other men for the past decade. you know that there was a time when we even slept together in one small room. can you imagine how that must’ve been like for a bunch of teenage boys…? you? messy? think about it again. living with you can’t possibly get worse than that. you don’t have to worry about me! really, i can take it! watch me!”

“but i bleed every month.”

“i’m a man. seeing a little blood doesn’t faze me.”

you make a face. “it’s actually a lot.”

“yah, why are you acting like we haven’t been together for two years?”

“it’s different living together!”

“it’s only natural! i don’t care!”

a noise of complaint bubbles in your throat when he shakes you by your shoulders, coaxing you with an whiny “please baby.”

your chest deflates in defeat. “sure, i guess… as long as we have the big bed, and the slow-dancing-”

“done!” he doesn’t waste his breath, not keen on wasting this opportunity. “anything you want, you have it!”

you narrow your eyes. “and i’ll keep my tutoring job.”

“will you punch the next guy that insists you study at his dorm for me?”

“or i can just keep saying no firmly, baby boy.”

and with that pet name, he instantly folds. “okay.”

“okay?”

“okay, since that’s the only one that you genuinely like.”

“you-” your teeth unconsciously finds your bottom lip to dig into, and you inhale sharply. “…you really love me, don’t you?”

suddenly, you’re raising your voice and waving your hands in the air. you’re feeling too many emotions at once; it’s like when you mix all the colors in a palette and end up creating black. you’re angry and happy and you may be fucking crying again.

“you were just picking up speakers one night and a pretty stranger offers you some boring food and now you want to be stuck with me forever?”

your fist throws a restrained punch to his chest, shoving him backwards.

“oh my god, you’re so stupid!”

jungkook finds this too amusing, tries to hide that he is enjoying this but a smirk is plastered on his face.

“you are loved by so many,” he brushes away the hair that has fallen over your eyes. he tucks them behind you ears and tenderly holds your face in his warm hands. “but i’m confident that i love you the most.”

you are the muse in his dreams. your perfume clings to his clothes. you make him the happiest man on the planet and your pain torments him. what is this, if not love?

“and if that makes me the stupid one? then so be it.”

“when did it become a competition?”

“since you got yourself a competitive boyfriend!”

“okay, fine! let’s make it my fault!”

you throw your arms around his neck, peppering kisses all over his face until he’s an uncontainable giggling mess.

“i’m drowning in kisses! nobody help!”

and you hope you’re hugging him close enough that he can feel the love and gratitude flowing through your veins. your eyes flutter shut, and you sigh— tranquility triumphs over chaos.

“are you falling asleep standing up again?”

“no!” you blatantly lie, drawing back with innocence masking your drowsiness. “we still need to go online shopping!”

“what are we buying?”

your face lights up. “appliances first?”

“appliances?” he cheerfully says. “sure! let’s get you new shoes too!”

as he gets dragged to the living room where his laptop is, he mumbles something with an enamored expression. “i should keep working hard.”

—

“yah, why are looking at me like that?” jungkook chuckles upon feeling your poorly concealed stare, diverting his attention away from the laptop over his stomach. “i’m the real deal. the tv is over there, on the screen.”

“just because…”

you snuggle closer to his side, heart fluttering when his arm that is your pillow moves to also hold you. you don’t really mind a small bed. this is the most favorable consequence a nuisance could have.

“i feel sorry.”

“sorry? for what?”

“because i made you sad, didn’t i? i hate that so much.” you sniffle, hand coming up to pat his cheek affectionately. “i know it must be hard for you too.”

“you’re the one who’s in a lot of pain.” he means to firmly speak, but the tremble of his voice rudely refuses to cooperate. “how could you even think of me feeling sad?”

“because i love you. of course i always think of you.” you argue, bottom lip jutting out into a pout. “i can’t do that now?”

he sighs. “you know that’s not what i meant.”

a kiss is planted on your forehead— tender and cherishing.

“let’s be happy, baby.”

the sharp edges of jungkook’s fears are eroded in a way. in a universe that relentlessly challenges you to be optimistic, your heart that is well-versed in loving continues to rise above it all.

you echo his words wistfully. “let’s be happy.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook one shot #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut

1K notes · View notes

euphoricfilter · 2 years ago

Text

Stardust || JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x F. Reader

Genre: Fluff || Smut || Friends to Lovers au

Summary: If Jungkook would have known an unintentional orgasm would have led to this, then he would have begged you to work out with him sooner.

Word Count: 5.5k

Tags/ warnings: himbo-ish jk, so much fluff idk where it came from, smut in the forms of: unintentional masturbation turned coregasm, oral (f. receiving), fingering, protected sex (because that’s really cool), mirror sex, doggy style, technically multiple orgasms, they’re both giggly and in love it’s kinda gross, jk is a tits man, he’s obsessed with boobs, it’s all very tame and kinda soft ig

Notes: yay first fic of 2023. this was way harder to write than i’d anticipated, hopefully i pulled through. and if there’s mistakes, no there aren’t!

<3 thank you to my prettiest baby @4amj3zz for reading this atrocity before i posted it

my full masterlist

✯ ✯ ✯

If every living being’s foundation is made of stardust, scattered when born, then Jungkook thinks the two of you were made from the same star.

A friendship that’s near impossible to come by, crafted by the hands of a higher being— delicate fingertips moulding fickle personalities and emotions that seem incomplete when not together. Two angels sent to earth to be each others’ number one in another life they’ll spend together.

Precious, like naturally formed diamonds.

And maybe that’s what your friendship was, one of the world’s little treasures. One everyone yearns for, though only a select few have.

Sure, diamonds can be replicated, graphite turned jewelry, simply there for show. A statement piece if you must.

Fake diamonds and fake friendships that seem to be more common than the real deal. Hard to crack, though not impossible— splitting the two of you up into pitiful shards and lost pieces; where even the most skilled hands have trouble putting it back together.

Jungkook doesn’t remember life before you. Though he thinks it must have been dull, flimsy smiles, and friends that hadn’t bothered to call once they moved away.

His existence so easily forgotten, that the gnawing sadness didn’t seem to last as long as he’d anticipated. Simply walking the path of life alone, though he often thought solitude wasn’t all that bad.

Until your worlds had collided. The big bang of your friendship, a new world, a new start, everything so fresh and untampered with.

He’d thought about what life would be like if one day the two of you were to ever part ways, the very thought of you not being by his side like a harsh punch the gut.

And maybe he had gotten a little teary eyed on those evenings he felt a little softer, a little sadder at the thought of you ever leaving. His hands fumbling around his sheets for his phone, your voice his only remedy for his growing anxiety, where promises were whispered and sleepy smiles remained on your faces as you rested.

Jungkook doubts that day will ever come. And maybe that’s all just wishful thinking, a juvenile dream that the promise you’d made to one another would hold strong for the rest of time, until the two of you lay six feet under. Resting side by side until your bodies rot, flesh becoming one with the earth, what is left of your existence blossoming into something beautiful; perhaps a tree, a flower, truly anything, as long as you were together.

“Together?” you blink up at Jungkook through your lashes, eyebrows creasing in distaste.

Jungkook thinks you look pretty in that moment, even if you are pulling a face at him. The two of you sat at a bench in the park, your head haloed by the setting sun, last of the days warmth kissing both your skin in a gentle goodbye before the moon watches over the two of you.

Littles galaxies reflected in both your eyes, where Jungkook thinks each star in his represents one thing he loves about you; hidden behind the moonlight because he doubt yours represent the same.

“Yes” he nods, hair flopping a little over his forehead, and you push the stray strands out of his eyes. Fingers delicate as they brush over his skin, always so gentle with him that his heart flutters like the delicate wings of a butterfly.

“Kook, I love you— you know I do” and he nods, lips quirking up a little, “But working out just, isn’t for me” you conclude, tone firm and his shoulders deflate. Because he knows it’ll take more than glossy puppy eyes and a pout for you to give in.

“First off, I love you too—“

“Thank you” you nod. But Jungkook doesn’t think you understand the weight behind those words.

“And look, how do you know it’s not for you, if you’ve never tried?”

“You put me off” and Jungkook would have thought you were joking if you didn’t have that deadpan look on your face. One he was all too familiar with.

“Huh” he gawks, “How?”

“You always complain about sore muscles, and the thought of being sweaty grosses me out” your head tips forward dramatically, cushioned by your arms from the table.

“It’s a good ache” he watches you turn your head, lips moulded into an unconvinced pout as you stare up at him through your lashes.

“There is no such thing as a good ache, Jungkook”

“Is too”

“When?” you flail, unbothered as Jungkook’s hands wrap around your wrists.

“Sex ache”

You pause, “Excuse me?”

“You know?” he cocks his head to the side.

“No” you shake your head in utter disbelief.

Jungkook’s mouth falls open, “You’re a little pillow princess aren’t you, I bet you don’t do any of the work”

“Do too, besides—“ you swallow, “It’s none of your business” you pull your hands free of his grasp.

“Come on, I feel like we’re at a point in this relationship we can share these things” his cheek rests atop of your head, each syllable pulled out into a whine.

“I don’t wanna hear about your sex life, Jungkook” you huff.

You watch him sit up ramrod straight, brain whirring behind his eyes. You think that if he thought any harder you’d be able to hear the echo of his voice.

“Actually, I don’t really wanna hear about yours either” his nose scrunches up, melting your resolve.

A secret charm of his that he didn’t know he had; and you’d never tell him either, no way in hell would you let him weaponize your weakness against you when your heart could barely stand being sat so close to him.

“Best friends don’t always share everything” you quip, only it leaves a tangy taste on your tongue.

“I suppose” Jungkook nods, evidently less enthusiasm radiating off him.

Best friends. It always wet your mood. Like sour candy that’s too sour, or a cute dog that’s breath smells like a rotting carcass.

But that’s what you were, introductions to new classmates or new lovers; it was always best friends. Two simple words that felt like utter shit to say, tumbling past your lips like vomit and then you had to rawdog the aftertaste because you don’t have any toothpaste or mints nearby.

Never anything less, even though there was definitely a lot more going on between the two of you. (Not that either of you had any idea about that.)

It’s a wonder as to how neither of you had grasped the fact that every previous relationship the two of you had, had ended because of the other. Nothing ever seeming to fit in place, the click never being there when it came to someone else.

Communication is key in upholding a relationship of any kind, issues easily resolved with hours of conversation turned mutual understanding, and progression made with a mix of both actions and words. As two people whose love languages were physical touch, the former is just as important as the latter.

One of the only reasons your friendship has lasted this long, is that you both value each other enough to communicate when necessary.

Apart from when you could probably really use it, unidentifiable emotions weaving into your hearts, mixed with a dose of denial can really set you back when you’re near infatuated with your closest friend.

It’s not that either of you had never considered a relationship with one another, others outside your little bubble had brought it up enough times that the meager possibility of it actually happening had been cemented into your thick skulls.

Something nice tickling both your brains at the fact so many people thought you were together together; like, in love together.

Long gone were the days where you’d blurt out your denial to dating accusations with rose dusted cheeks, simply believing the world had a thing against opposite sex friendships. Now, the two of you just laughed off whoever liked to comment on how good you looked as a couple. (Which had brought more than a few of Jungkook’s relationships to turmoil)

It’s just that neither of you believed the other wanted anything more than friendship. A rookie mistake on both your parts, especially when you’d both establish that every and all emotions were to be discussed with one another, no matter what you felt.

“One time” you break the silence, any way to ease the growing tension between the two of you “I’ll work out with you one time. And never again”

You watch the smile as it pulls at the corner of his lips, the prettiest smile, your favorite smile, enough of a reward for whatever pain you’re about to put yourself through. Because as long as Jungkook was happy, then you’d crawl to the ends of the earth if it meant you got to see this smile one more time.

“I love you” he bends down, sloppy kiss pressed to your cheek and you can’t help your own smile, heated cheeks covered as you swat him away from your face. Wiping his saliva from your skin with the back of your hand.

“Whatever” you tut, though Jungkook sees through your faux annoyance.

“We can use my at-home gym as well, so we won’t even be in public”

“Wonderful. Let’s go back now, I’m gonna freeze my tits off if we stay any later”

You don’t catch Jungkook’s gaze flickering down to your chest, lingering a little longer than proper before he’s slinging his zip-up hoodie around your shoulders. Eyes flickering down to his hands briefly before he’s knocking shoulders with you.

“Chivalry isn’t dead” you utter, falling into Jungkook’s side when his arm falls over your shoulder.

✯ ✯ ✯

Jeon Jungkook was sex on legs when he worked out.

You were no stranger to him training, countless vacations together, where the morning was spent with him doing press-up on the balcony or the occasional few times he’d bench-press you for a laugh.

You’d never found it funny though, pussy throbbing between your thighs as he’d grab onto you, arms flexing deliciously. And he never seemed to question why you’d lock yourself up in your room after, purely a coincidence that you’d disappear for an hour after his little stunt.

You were no stranger to a half naked Jungkook either.

Nor were you a juvenile teenager whose panties got in a twist when she saw a toned stomach.

However, this wasn’t just any toned stomach.

Jeon Jungkook was built like Adonis. Carved where every crevice had meaning and every flaw only enhanced his beauty. And it’s hard to think the bushy haired, acne prone teen boy you’d first befriended had turned into this.

If puberty had benefited anyone, it was Jungkook.

“We’ll do something easy today, okay?” he claps and you nod, watching as he saunters over to a basket.

“Pink or blue” he holds up two yoga mats.

“I didn’t think you were into rhinestones” you snort, sun catching on the bedazzled rim of the pink mat— streaks of pink painting the wall.

Jungkook drops said mat, chucking you the blue one before he’s dropping to his knees on the floor.

“It’s one of my exes” he tells you, motioning for you to sit.

If people were flowers, then this is the moment you would have wilted. Deflating in on yourself; it’s not that you were jealous per-say. It’s not like him and his ex were dating at all but still. The very mention of her was enough for you to roll your eyes.

“And you didn’t throw it out?” the words hurdle out your mouth before you can even think about what you’re saying.

“No?” his eyes meet your own, “I’m not throwing away good gym equipment”

You sigh, somehow expecting no less from him. Jungkook was a man of many skills, and he’d hounded you to try hobby after hobby with him— but nothing got him going like a good work out. If all other passion in life disappeared then he would still have working out as his escape.

You sigh, “I have somewhere to be later, so let’s hurry this up” a little white lie, but that never hurt anyone.

“You’re not going on another one of those shitty blind dates, are you?” he groans and you whine.

“I told you, I’m never going on any of those ever again”

“You better not” he unrolls his mat, and you follow.

“Or what?” you turn your nose up at him and Jungkook’s foot collides with your thigh.

“On your back, you brat.”

✯ ✯ ✯

“How much more” you flop against the mat, eyes closing.

“That was only the warm up” Jungkook hums, pushing himself up off the floor.

You hear him walk to the other side of the room, cupboard door creaking open as he rummages around for something.

You peek up at him through your lashes when he throws a towel over your back.

“Roll that up” he motions towards it, coming to sit beside you, “And up onto your back again”

Your eyes widen by a fraction when he gently takes the towel out of your hands, pushing your knees apart before he’s closing them; towel stuffed between your thighs.

Your gaze travels down the length of your body, thighs twitching as Jungkook’s fingers wrap around your ankles.

“All you have to do is raise your legs like this okay?” and he demonstrates, making sure to keep your legs straight as he lifts them to a ninety degree angle from your torso. “Leg raises should be easy, even for you” he hums.

“What’s that supposed to mean” you snap, ready to push yourself up, except Jungkook’s hands press down over your chest.

“Hey! No complaining”

You swallow thickly, aware of Jungkook’s eyes on you as you raise your legs on your own this time.

“Pretty good, remember to tense your core when you do it, okay?”

You nod, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you do as you’re told.

Your eyes squeeze shut, body hyper aware of each small movement the towel has right over your clit. Pussy throbbing inside your panties and you worry your slick had started to soak through your shorts.

Jungkook doesn’t seem to take notice of your growing predicament, hands hovering over your calf to make sure you’re raising your legs all the way. Though that’s the least of your worries as you feel each new wave of unadulterated pleasure pulse through your core.

“Not so bad huh?” he grins.

It’s a strange sensation, pure arousal ebbing up your body, every brush of your panties over your clit, weight of the towel over your slit slowly bringing you to the precipice of an orgasm.

“I don’t think—“ you start, cutting yourself off with an arm covering your face at a particularly intense wave of arousal. Your stomach tightening at the feeling.

“Just a few more, you’re doing great”

“Kook, I really don’t think—“ your hand clamps over your mouth as Jungkook’s fingers take hold of your legs, helping you raise them; and that’s all it takes to tip you over the edge. And you can’t help the surprised moan that drips off your lips.

Your knees bend, nudging against your tits as your hand falls over your sodden pussy, dull wave of your orgasm throbbing throughout your body.

Jungkook looks down at you, eyes wide as you simply lay there with your hands between your legs.

“Did you just piss yourself?” he asks, mouth falling open in awe.

“What the fuck?” you cry, “I just came you idiot”

Jungkook’s cheeks flush red, “Oh” he nods, “Oh. You had a— holy shit”

“Don’t look at me like that” your eyes glaze over with tears, heat prickling up your body in embarrassment, “I didn’t mean to, it just happened”

Your feet fall to the floor, towel falling from between your thighs as you let out a stuttered breath, body still buzzing with the after affects or your surprise orgasm.

“Jungkook?” you peek up at him through hooded eyes, heart pattering so hard in your chest you could feel it in your throat.

Jungkook’s eyes meet your own, “That was so fucking hot” he groans, “Looked so pretty”

You watch as his hand rubs over his shorts, his own arousal hard to hide as his head tips back in a way that extenuates his neck.

“Huh?” your eyes widen, willing yourself to not look at what his hands were doing.

“Should have known something like this would have turned you on”

“I wasn’t even turned on” you exasperate, “I clenched my core like you said and it just happened”

“Mhmm” and you can tell he’s unconvinced.

“Stop rubbing your dick, you horny piece of shit” you clamp a hand over your eyes, thighs clenching when he lets out a deep groan.

“Can’t help it” he lets out a sigh, “I’ve been dreaming of what you’d look like when you came, shame it wasn’t on my cock”

Your hand falls from your eyes, “Dreaming?”

“God, haven’t I made it obvious?” he asks, his own hands falling to his sides, though now you have a full view of his straining erection.

“Made what obvious?” you whisper.

“That I like you” he asks and you gawk at him.

“You, like me? I’ve been trying to hint that I like you” you point at him, mouth falling open in disbelief.

“Huh?” it’s Jungkook’s turn for furrowed brows, “I swear you didn’t like me”

“I could have sworn you didn’t like me”

Jungkook snorts, “When did I ever say that?”

“You’re unbelievable”

“Me? What about you?”

Your body lays flaccid, muscles loose; heart hammering in your ears as Jungkook leans back on his hands.

“How long?” you ask, not daring to look up at him.

“High school”

You push a palm into the socket of your eye, low groan rumbling up your throat, “I’ve liked you since, I don’t know, probably high school as well”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, voice soft and you can feel yourself tearing up— so many emotions plaguing your mind at once you don’t know how to feel.

Jungkook scoots closer to you, “I could say the same thing about you” you huff.

“Why’re you crying” he frowns, thumb gentle as it brushes against your damp cheek.

“We wasted so many years. I seriously thought— you’ve had so many girlfriends”

“Because I thought you didn’t feel the same, I guess I thought my feelings would go away if I gave my heart to someone else. And then you started dating around too and I really thought I’d never have a chance”

“Me too” you sigh, nose scrunching up in distaste for all your failed relationships.

“Guess it didn’t work out for either of us huh?” he hums and you nod.

“I think we’re both stupid” you murmur.

And Jungkook nods, “I agree”

“What do we do now?” you push yourself up onto your elbows, frown on your face.

“Can I kiss you?” Jungkook’s head hovers over your own, the sun meeting the moon at the same point in the sky— your eclipse. The rest of your world suddenly shrouded in darkness, all you can see, think, smell, everything just Jungkook.

You nod, eyes flitting across his face as his arms cage your head. You can see his biceps flexing in your peripherals, thick muscle straining under the weight of his torso.

Jungkook’s lips hover over your own, a breaths width away from touching. You tilt your head up, pillowy lips cushioning your own and that’s when everything falls into place.

There’s nothing desperate about the kiss, ever so gentle and slow, the two of you aware that lost time can be made up in the future as you simply bask in this moment; your worlds aligning, tilting on the same axis, everything just perfect and right, and your hearts beating in sync, and breathing stuttered as you both pull away with hesitance.

Your hands cup Jungkook’s cheeks, eyes searching his own for anything, just something to tell you this wasn’t all a dream— that he really did like you back.

“You’re so pretty, you know?” he whispers, his lips pressing a featherlight kiss to the corner of your lips.

“No” you smile, giggle bubbling up your throat and Jungkook can’t help but grin down at you.

“I’ll tell you every day, all the time. You’ll get sick of me”

“I could never get sick of you, Jungkook” you push yourself up onto your elbows, noses bumping.

He tilts his head, kiss firm, and you moan as his tongue licks at the seam of your lips, a silent plea for access.

You oblige, arms slung over his shoulders as you bring his body closer to your own, heat radiating off the two of you in thick waves.

“You taste so good” he groans, hands wandering down your body, teasing as they pull up the hem of your hoodie, “Want this off”

Your fingers tug at the offending material, dragging it up your body, “Hang on” you pull away from the kiss, and Jungkook feels his cock twitch at the sight of you. Red swollen lips, a sheen of his saliva coating them.

You pull your hoodie over your head, throwing it somewhere, a problem for later. Thighs clenching as Jungkook stares down at you— eyes wandering.

“And this” his fingers skim over the edge of your sports bra, dancing over your skin, mapping you out of every little spot he wants to kiss.

You hesitate.

“We don’t have to do this if you’re uncomfortable” Jungkook’s smile is gentle, retracting his hands and you want to whine at the loss of contact.

“I want to” you tell him, hoping the shake in your voice didn’t sound too unconvincing. The incessant throbbing between your legs wouldn’t go away unless Jungkook helped you out and your patience was slowly wearing thin.

“But?” he urges.

“I’m nervous” you admit and he smiles; reassuring.

“How can I help?”

You squirm under his gaze, fizzling embarrassment painting your cheeks red, “Can we both—“ you cut yourself off with a whine.

“Come on, gotta use your words, my love”

“Can we both get naked” you splutter, “At the same time?”

Jungkook’s head falls back, fully belly laugh wracking through his body, “Of course”

You tug your shorts off, Jungkook following you; a pile of both your clothes laying forgotten by your head. You’re too distracted tugging your sports bra off to see Jungkook’s length slap against his stomach. Tip of his cock an angry red, his fingers barely touching his shaft as he closes them around the length.

“Oh” he croons, “How pretty. Can I touch you?”

You nod, falling onto your back.

Jungkook’s careful as he touches you, thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples, testing the waters as he tugs at them, eliciting a breathy moan from you.

“Feels good?” his voice low, and you nod; hips involuntarily bucking upwards when you finally cast a glance at his length. Eyes widening a little in awe.

His fingers dig into your flesh, and he bends down, lips closing around one of your nipples. Your back arches, mouth falling open in a silent moan as his teeth nip at the sensitive skin; tugging in a way that sends warm pleasure straight to your core.

He kisses over your chest, lips worshipping your skin, fingers skimming over the underside of your boob.

Each gentle press of his lips are searing as he works down your body. And your breath hitches as his hovers over your pussy, folds glistening with your arousal.

“Oh baby” he groans, and your thighs twitch as his warm breath fans over your core.

Your fingers tangle into his hair, impatient as they tug him closer to where you need him; an embarrassed whine falling past your lips when he kisses over you clit, once, then twice.

“Jungkook” you squeak, legs tensing when he finally wraps his lips around it, tongue flicking at your clit meanly.

He simply hums, vibrations sending a new wave of pleasure straight through your body, another gush of wetness dribbling from your hole. Jungkook wastes no time, fingers scooping up your leaking arousal before he’s pushing them into you.

“Oh” your chest stutters a breath as he pulls his fingers out of you, tongue licking a broad stripe over your cunt before his thumb brushes over your clit.

“You like that?” he asks, though the question was rhetorical as he repeats the motion. Tongue teasing over your hole before he’s lapping up your slick; sucking at your folds, squelching lewd accompanied by each hearty moan.

Your thighs start to shake, clamping around Jungkook’s head though that barely deters him, as he pushes your legs open by your knees.

“Stop. Kook— please” you whimper, “wanna cum around your cock”

That catches his attention, and with one final kiss to your clit he’s pushing himself onto his elbows.

Jungkook looks like the epitome of sin, slick stained chin and swollen red lips, unashamed as he licks your arousal off his face, humming in satisfaction as your chest stutters out a breath.

“Lemme get a condom” he murmurs, lips pressing another kiss over your knee before he’s pushing himself to stand. Your eyes follow his body, heavy cock bobbing against his stomach with every step he takes.

“Hopefully they’re not expired” he calls from the other room, and you giggle at that, “We’re good” he flashes you a grin as he drops back between your legs; foil wrapper held between two fingers.

You watch his fingers run down his length, thumb brushing over his slit and you feel slick dribble out of your hole as a bead of pre-cum coats the head of his cock shiny.

“Please” your head tips back, hands impatient as they tug at your nipples; Jungkook completely entranced by the sight. “Hurry, hurry” you nudge his thigh with your foot, and albeit reluctant, he tears his eyes away from your tits.

He rips the condom open with his teeth, a cheesy attempt at seducing you, and you weren’t about to tell him all he had to do was breathe and you panties would dampen.

He rolls the rubber down his length, fingers wrapping around his cock as he tugs a few times. You choose that moment to flip yourself over, hips raised as your chest lays flat against the floor and Jungkook moans.

“My pretty baby” he croons, hands roaming your ass before he’s pulling your cheeks apart; eyes fixed on your clenching cunt. Ever so enticing, silently begging to be filled and fucked until you can’t think or walk; a perfect excuse for Jungkook to pamper you a little.

You wiggle your hips, giggle muffled in the crook of your elbow has he parts your lips with his thumb, gently dipping into you hole before he’s pulling out.

“Please, Jungkook”

And that’s all it takes for him to line the head of his cock up with you entrance, tip nudging against your clit before he’s pushing into you; every inch stretching you apart deliciously.

“So good” you sigh, walls clenching around him and Jungkook can’t help the stutter of his hips, punching the air out of your lungs at the sudden intrusion.

“Sorry—“ his fingers dig into your hips, “Just feels so good, sucking me in”

You rock back onto his cock, breathy moan tumbling past your lips as your ass meets his pelvis; cock fully tucked into your pussy.

“Give me a moment” you shudder, body thrumming in anticipation.

Jungkook hums, hands wandering your body, fingers dancing over your skin. A surprised moan echoes throughout the room as his hands grab both your tits, squeezing them, fingers rubbing over both your nipples sending hot pleasure straight to your cunt.

He can feel you rhythmically clenching around him, walls sucking him in as you rock forward an inch before you’re sinking back down on his length.

“Okay” you nod, fingers holding onto the edge of the yoga mat.

“You sure?” he asks, pulling out to the tip, hips slow as he plunges back into you.

“Mhmm”

You feel Jungkook’s fingers dig into the meat of your hips, picking up the pace of his thrusts.

You can’t help each near pornographic moan that’s pushed out of you with each harsh slap of Jungkook’s hips meeting your ass, skin smacking wet as your slick coats your thighs.

“So good for me” his head tips back, arms hooking around your bent elbows.

You let out a squeak as he sits you up, and your walls constrict around his length as he pushes deeper inside of you, gush of wetness clinging to his thighs.

“So good” your head tips back onto his shoulder, knees helping you bounce up his length.

Your back arches when the head of cock hits your g-spot, ring of creamy slick gathering at the base of his cock each time you pull up to the tip.

“Look at that” Jungkook murmurs into your ear, one hand tangling into your hair as the other settles over your throat.

He tugs your head up, and you catch your reflection in the full length mirror; insides of your thighs coated in a sheen of your slick, Jungkook’s hips thrusting his cock up into you, both your bodies glistening with sweat.

The red hue of your cheeks flushes down your neck and chest, shade darkening with each wet squelch of your cunt as Jungkook helps you bounce in his lap.

He watches your tits bounce, both his hands wandering to grab them, pulling your back closer to chest as he pounds into you.

“I’m gonna cum” you hiccup, hands scrambling to hold onto his bicep as your other hand travels down your body, fingers gathering up your slick before you’re circling your clit.

You thighs start to shake, crescent moons indented into your skin as Jungkook’s grip on your chest tightens, your walls throbbing around his cock, drawing him closer to his orgasm.

“Yeah?” his hips stutter, “Come for me then, pretty. Let’s come together”

You moan, fingers unrelenting as you thrum at your clit in tight circles. Your orgasm wracks throughout your entire body when it hits, stomach tensing as your cum coats Jungkook cock, which twitches as he thrusts up into you.

He holds you down on his length, deep groan rumbling through his chest as he shoots his seed into the condom, your walls continuing to milk him of everything he’s got.

“Good girl” he soothes, hands falling to your hips as you fall forwards, cheek pressed against the mat as Jungkook pulls out, thrusting back into you gently.

“Thank you” you whimper, thighs tensing as he pulls himself out of your sodden pussy, folds glistening creamy white.

✯ ✯ ✯

Everything feels right. The two of you tucked into Jungkook’s bed after a shower, both your hands roaming one another’s bodies.

You’d clung to Jungkook’s back as he’d cooked you both dinner, work-out long forgotten as you’d both worked up an appetite. Muscles too sore, too achey, to even think of carrying on anything that isn’t wrapping up warm in each others’ arms.

It’s strange how so much, but nothing had changed. You still danced around each other with practiced ease, hands still feathery light, skimming over hips and backs, where legs are tangled under blankets, cold feet on warm skin.

There was something mellow in the air, a film of freedom, hearts on your sleeves for one another to see, where kisses felt softer, deeper in promise and love.

All the ‘I love yous’ holding the right weight, both understanding that the love you feel is the right kind of love.

He’d thought about it a lot, from the day you’d both confessed; messy, but a confession nonetheless. (And he had made sure to ask you to be his girlfriend in a more romantic setting than his spare room turned gym). That maybe the time growing up as just friends wasn’t wasted.

Failed relationships and sticky breakups simply teaching the two of you the right way to love.

Learning the give and take of relationships, what it truly meant to be in love with another person. Where you want nothing more than their happiness, a pure sort of adoration that consumes your entire being until they’re always on your mind. Small, seemingly insignificant parts of life reminding you of them. Trinkets in corner shops or the changes in season, certain smells, textures of clothing.

Learning about what you want for yourselves and how to take care of one another.

So he doesn’t regret all those years spent as just friends. Because maybe the two of you were too young, too eager, too scared about something as precious as true love. Growing up together, as just friends, might have brought the two of you closer than rushed first loves and petty arguments that you’d look back on and regret.

Red string. Stars. Fate. Destiny. Any of it. Jungkook doesn’t know what brought the two of you together, two souls intertwined until you both part ways when your lights flicker out. Though he thinks you’d reignite them wherever the two of you end up later on, new lives, new worlds. New everything, where he gets to learn about you all over again, explore your being, as you explore his, and you’re moulding into one another once more.

He wonders how long you’ve both been laying there, lips pulled up into lazy smiles, kiss swollen; little galaxies reflected in both your eyes.

Where every glistening star is a reason as to why you love each other. Your galaxies shining with a million different reasons, moonlight no longer veiling what lay beneath.

Because Jungkook thinks, if people were made of stardust before they were born. There’s no doubt in his mind, the two of you were made from the same star.

💫 like, reblog, and feedback is encouraged!! thank you so much for reading <3

taglist: @koikooky @fandems @guesswhatimthinking @slut-formattsun @satisfied18 @apollukee @scastro95 @happygolucky7777 @jjkw-7 @taeboludo @fairy-jaykay @jeonjjks @exactlygreatcoffee @itzz-me-duh @jkkkkkay @starstruckfangirls @tornparts @seoqity @straykidsmaxident @bebejungkook @twilight-love-nochu-main @chimmisbae @redeyezbloodymouth

permanent taglist: @m1sss1mp @supernoonanyc

#bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts smut #bts jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagine #jungkook smut #jungkook x you #bts x reader #bts fic #bts #bts x female reader #bts non idol au #bts au fanfic #jungkook friends to lovers #stardust

6K notes · View notes

astraystayyh · 1 year ago

Text

If the world was ending

Felix x reader. Estranged childhood best friends to lovers. Angst and happy ending. highly recommend listening to If the world was ending while reading :)

Felix has always been there with you, from the moment you've met him when you were 8 years old, until he suddenly no longer was, and you were left to grapple with the consequences of his absence- and those of his return.

cw: description of a car accident, reader has a fear of loud noises.

skz song series masterlist

12 march 2011

Screeching brakes, a jarring collision, glass shattering all around you, shards of it embedding into your tender skin. You are too young to understand it all, but you know it's bad. You are suddenly upside down, the only thing helping you stay put is the seatbelt fastened around you. You didn't really like seatbelts but your mom always insisted on you wearing one.

Your mom, you can't see her face, she's upside down too, and she isn't talking. That's unusual because you're crying and she isn't turning around to comfort you. Someone is screaming outside of your car, and then you are pulled out. You don't know who's touching you, and you want them to stop. Where is your mom? Why did they not pull her out too?

An ambulance approaches you; its loud sirens feel like pine needles drilling into your skull. You try to cover your ears but your hands are covered in blood. The world around you is painted red- the flashing lights of the sirens and the liquid oozing from your cuts. It’s no longer your favorite color.

27 may 2011

You are playing in the playground near your home, waving at your mom from the top of the slide. She's gotten better, she smiles more easily at you now. And you are trying to be a good kid too; you help wash the dishes and you clean your room all by yourself. You don't want your mom to feel sad again and go back to that dreaded hospital.

You slide out, happy giggles leaving your mouth, before climbing up the tiny stairs once again. But as you reach the top, an ambulance rushes by the playground. You don't know what's happening, but you suddenly feel shards of glass on your skin once again. Your hands are shaking as you sit on the floor, curling around yourself in a ball.

"What's wrong?" someone asks and you lift your head tentatively. It's a young boy, he's looking at you worriedly, a tiny pout on his lips.

"I don't like ambulances," you hiccup, burying your head in your knees again.

Suddenly, small hands cover your ears, muffling the shrill sound of sirens. They are warm and sticky from the red popsicle he’s still holding.

"Now you can't hear them," he giggles, his eyes disappearing into moon crescents. Despite your raging fear, a smile finds its way into your lips.

"What's those on your face," you ask with a small voice, pointing at the faint marks dusting his cheeks.

"They're called freckles," he says proudly and you nod.

"They're pretty."

"Thank you!" he grins at you, his hands still covering your ears. The tightness in your chest seems to dissipate slowly before his kind smile- the shadows never stood a chance in front of the sun.

"What's your name?"

"Felix. And you?"

"Yn."

"We should be friends," he beams and you grin back, agreeing wholeheartedly. "We should."

15 november 2021

You are sitting on the grass of that very same playground, Felix still by your side. The night breeze is cooling as it brushes against your bodies, and you're wearing his red sweater. It smells like his cologne and your perfume- an intoxicating scent you've come to memorize by heart.

His nose tip is rosy from the cold, and you can't resist tapping it playfully. "Your nose is pink," you giggle, and he smiles, gently bopping yours in return.

"So is yours."

You look at him as he gazes up at the stars above. You love Felix, it has always been crystal clear to you. From the moment he planted the seed of his friendship into your soul, and throughout the years when it bloomed into something more, bigger than the two of you. It wrapped around your being entirely, binding itself into your every atom, until all you saw is his reflection in you.

And you were tired of treading the line between friendship and something more. You wanted, no craved being with him, your yearning so intense it spilled from you each time he was around. In rosy cheeks and shaky fingers and eyes that soften only when they rest on him- evidence of your love imprinted all upon you.

You take in a deep breath, before laying your hand gently on his cheek, turning his face to meet yours. His eyes widen slightly at the soft touch, and you lean in closer to him. You brush your nose against his, slowly, "to warm it up," you whisper, as his breath hitches in his throat.

He's close, he's so close, you can almost taste the brownies you shared earlier on his lips. You can see his freckles ever so clearly, constellations you often find yourself getting lost in. Your hand is still on his cheek, and you can feel it burning up under your palm.

You close your eyes, as his lips are now just a breath away from yours. It's electrifying- having him so near to the way you've always dreamed, fantasized about. But he needs to be the one to take the jump, all he has to do is lean in a bit, and you'd kiss him. You won't ever let go.

"Lixie...," you choke out, "kiss me."

"I want to." His voice is hoarse with emotion, as if fighting with himself for self-restraint.

"So do it," you ask, swiping your thumb gently across his cheek. Your breaths mingle with one another in a dizzying dance.

"I'm leaving," he says so faintly, you believe for a second that you've imagined it.

"What?" you ask, leaning a bit away to be able to look at him.

"I'm leaving," he repeats, his eyes tightly shut. "We're moving to another country, for my dad's job."

"You're leaving me?" you ask, bewildered.

"I'm not leaving you-"

"But you are. You won't be here anymore." You drop your hand, taking hurried steps away from him. Touching him didn't feel electrifying anymore, it felt horrible and nauseous, because you won't get to do it again.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to-"

"How long have you known?"

"Yn..."

"Felix," you say, tone stern. "How long?"

"Six months," he whispers and a bitter chuckle escapes your lips.

"When are you leaving?"

"In a week."

The pain becomes unbearable, and you turn your back to him so he wouldn't see your rapidly falling tears. You are angry, as a disguise for the sadness threatening to drown you. Him leaving tasted like the salty water you gulp when you dive in too quickly into the ocean. And you did dive in, in him, in his soul and everything that made up Felix. And now he was leaving you, with no anchor to help you float again.

"Is that why you insisted on spending so much time with me lately? Because you were leaving?"

"You need to understand I didn't know how to tell you, I- I don't even know who I am without you." He pleads, his own eyes shimmering with unshed tears, reminding you of tiny diamonds. That's how it is with Felix, you found beauty in everything he did- even tearing your heart in half.

"Maybe you should've thought of how I would feel. You were thinking of leaving me while I..." Your voice breaks and you take a shaky breath. "While I was falling in love with you."

"I'm in love with you too," he quickly says, reaching out to hold your hand. "I love you, I always have." He's wrapping his arms around you, and you're letting him because it feels safe and secure. Because he’s still your Felix, even if he's leaving you behind.

You wonder what you must have done in a past life, what a horrible person you could've been for the universe to treat you this cruelly. To hand you everything you've ever wanted in a silver platter, and snatch it from your hands before you could dare to grab it.

"We'll make it work," he mumbles into your hair, placing a tender kiss on your temple. "We'll talk and we can be together."

"No, we can't. I'll just hold you back from living your new life, I can't have that."

"Don't talk like that, please," his voice wavers, words barely managing to slip out of his mouth. Regret overtakes your body so suddenly at the thought of his lips- you shouldn't have tried to kiss him. Maybe then he wouldn't have told you he was leaving.

"It's the truth. we'll grow to hate each other, distance will put a strain on us. I'd rather not talk to you than have you resent me."

"But-"

"Just hold me," you cut him off. "As if nothing's happening, please."

And he complies because Felix always does. Because he loves you and as much as he doesn't want to, he knows you're right.

•••••

It's been three months since Felix left- the days passed by agonizingly slowly, and yet the months went by in a blur, a hauntingly vivid reminder of what once was. At first, the texts between you two were frequent, but as time wore on, the messages grew sporadic, from your end, mostly. Seeing him flourish in his new life felt like salt on an open wound, a reminder that he was moving on while you were still anchored in memories of him.

You saw him in every corner of your city. The smell of brownies that he's made countless times, each time you felt sad. The way he kissed your cheek each time he won a game, while you were lying on his bed, bored. The way he hugged you whenever you were sick, gently tucking strands of your hair behind your ear. The way he covered your ears instinctively at each loud noise, knowing how scared it made you still.

And you've felt each of these emotions since he was gone. You were sad and bored and sick and happy and scared. And he wasn't here with you through them. Each moment away from Felix seemed to magnify what could have been- what should have been between the two of you.

There is a building construction next to you, loud cement blocks crashing to the ground. And you are curled around yourself in a protective ball, covering your ears with your hands, because Felix isn't here to do it anymore for you.

You and Felix have grown with one another, your soul carefully woven into his, like two threads intricately stitched into the same tapestry. Him leaving felt like half of your body was cut off from you, and you were left alone to figure out how to function with an incomplete heart.

17 july 2023

Summer break meant coming back home and sleeping in your childhood bedroom once again. Memories of Felix still lingered in there- posters he has given you and his red sweater that you've never found the courage to throw away. It doesn't hurt as much to remember him, the sharp pain morphed into a dull ache you've grown accustomed to by now.

You're watching the TV mindlessly when someone knocks on your door, and you go to open it without a second thought, expecting it to be your parents. It wasn't.

"Felix?" you stammer, stumbling back in shock. You blink repeatedly, in a desperate attempt to make sure he's not a figment of your twisted imagination. You haven't uttered his name in so long, and the syllables felt both foreign and familiar in your mouth.

"It's me," he smiles sheepishly, his hand scratching the back of his neck.

"You are here," you whisper, stating the obvious. He didn't change much, his kind brown eyes and freckles still as captivating as before. But his features were sharper, prettier, and the sight of him is making you dizzy once again.

"I am."

"What are you doing here?" You ask cautiously, opening the door a bit wider to let him in.

"I requested a transfer to your university. I wanted to come back. I missed home, and I missed you," he adds softly, making a turmoil of emotions surge within you.

You clear your throat. "So, you are back for good?"

"I am," he says, smiling slightly at you as if to gauge your reaction. You stay silent and his grin falters; his tongue resting against the inside of his cheek, a habit he hasn't let go of apparently. He then walks to the kitchen and you follow suit. You don't have to show him around, he knows your home like the back of his hand. He spent most of his childhood here after all, even though his house was only a few blocks away.

"How have you been?" he asks as he opens the cupboard to take out a glass. He closes its door softly, careful not to make it thud.

"I'm good. It's summer break so I'm finally back home, what about you?"

"I'm good too. It's nice to be back."

Your conversation is strained and awkward, so unnatural of you both. There was so much to say, so much to ask about, but you couldn't bring yourself to speak. He felt like uncharted territory to you now, one you didn't have the strength to discover once again.

"It's your mom's birthday tomorrow, right?" he smiles and you nod.

"Should we make her our cookies? Like we used to before I..."

"Before you left," you finish, bitterness dripping from your tone.

Hurt flashes in his eyes and you feel your heart suddenly clench in your chest. It was unfair for you to treat him this way. He was only seventeen and if your parents were to move away you would've followed them too.

"Okay, let's do it." You smile sincerely for the first time since he came back to you.

You both move seamlessly in the kitchen, each knowing your tasks like a choreographed dance. This was a tradition that started when you were twelve years old. You'd brown the butter while he beat the egg and sugar together. He'd sift the flour while you cut up chocolate. He'd mix it all while you preheat the oven. And then you'd roll the dough together.

Your hands brush against one another as you shape up the cookies, and it feels so intense you almost drop to the floor. You miss him, you miss him so much and he's near you and you can't seem to think straight anymore.

When the cookies are finally in the oven, he silently washes the dishes while you dry them. He abruptly pauses, hands still covered in soap before turning back to you.

"Can we talk? Please?" he says too quickly as if he's been overthinking asking this question.

"I'm busy today," you scramble to think of an excuse, you weren't ready to face him yet.

"Tomorrow?"

"I'm staying with my mom, then there is Han’s party."

"I'll be there too. We can talk then, please?" he asks, eagerness evident in his voice.

"Fine. Let's talk there," you concede and he nods, awkwardly shifting in his place. He finishes the dishes before drying his hands. You avoid his gaze and he sighs softly. "I'll get going. Tell your mom happy birthday from me."

"Will do." You smile tightly and he does the same, before finally leaving your home, and in his trail, a maelstrom of emotions you weren't certain how to deal with.

18 july 2023

You're at the reunion party Han is hosting with all your high school friends. You watch as Felix takes turns talking to everybody. He fits right in here, a puzzle perfectly clicking in place as if he's never left. He's telling a joke to Chan who laughs loudly, hitting Minho's arm repeatedly. Everyone is happy he's back, because they never had to gravel with the consequences of his absence. Because he's never ripped their heart out.

Felix is looking for you around the room- he hasn't seen you in a while. He assumes you're somewhere around the house, and that you'd like to talk when time has passed. The knot in his stomach tightens as the weight of your conversation dawns on him, he longs to be with you, to undo the past two years he has spent away from you. But he's afraid to mess everything up, once again, so he stays near his friends who are now pulling him outside of the house.

"We have a surprise for you," Han says excitedly before pointing at the sky, "look."

Fireworks, a dazzling show of blue, red and yellow. And Felix feels as if the colors were drained out of his face and splattered into the night sky before him.

"Where is yn?" he turns to Chan, eyes wide.

"Inside, I think. Why?"

"Stop- stop this, don't start any more fireworks," he urges the boy who's looking at him worriedly.

"Why, what's wrong? We have a warrant to start them, don't worry."

"No, no you don't understand. Yn hates loud noises," he explains frantically, before bolting inside the house.

He's yelling your name, and you are nowhere to be found, the sound of the fireworks so loud he isn't even sure you can hear him.

He opens door after door, and after painstakingly long seconds he finally finds you in the bathroom, sitting on the floor, your head buried in your knees. Just like you were twelve years ago.

Felix doesn't waste any time, kneeling in front of you to cover your ears with his hands, you look up at him, waterline brimming with unshed tears.

"It's okay, I'm here. Just focus on my voice," he smiles reassuringly at you, and you clasp your hands on top of his, doing your best to muffle the sound of the explosions.

"Your hands are still small," you attempt to joke, as hot tears trail down your cheeks. You hated how scared you still were.

"The perfect size to cover your ears," he smiles at you, his eyes softening when they take in your distressed state.

You hiccup, overcome by a new wave of emotion- for an entirely different reason this time. "You came."

"I'll always come. Even if the world was ending, I'll... I'll come to you," he smiles, biting his lower lip to stop his own tears from falling.

"It'd be useless if you came then. There would be nothing for us to do," you manage to say through shaky breaths.

"But I'd be with you," he insists, gaze unwavering, "It will be scary for you. I imagine it will be loud, the world can't end silently."

"Mine did, when you left." Felix's eyes go wide at your words, and you don't care that you are baring your soul entirely to him. "Please don't leave me again. I hate goodbyes with you."

"Why would we ever say goodbye again, hm?" he reassures, his knuckles brushing against your cheek softly. "I'm never leaving you, as long as you'll have me, I'm here," he whispers, before pulling you into his chest.

Your hands find his back, and his cheek rests on top of your head. And you both close your eyes, an exhale of relief leaving you both at the same time. The world grows dark around the two of you, the only thing you saw was his heart and the overflowing love he still bore for you.

You felt as if you were wandering blind and you could finally see again, as if the string tying you to him wrapped tightly around the both of you, trapping you in his warm embrace.

You don't know what will happen next, but he's holding you now, and he'll hold you when the world is ending, and that is enough.

3K notes · View notes

englishsub · 4 months ago

Text

book rec by me

so you want to get back into reading books but have no idea where to start and disdain booktok (if you get me started on this however i will become an unskippable cutscene so that's for another day). understandable. there is so much out there and it is all so overwhelming and you don't even know what you like now that you've been a decade out of the game. again, understandable. it does not have to be scary. i will help you. below i have created some categories that can get you started.

i want to read Literature

literary fiction, with crossover from historical fiction and magical realism

PEACH BLOSSOM SPRING by melissa fu

THE VASTER WILDS by lauren groff

THE FAMILY CHAO by lan samantha chang

OUTER DARK by cormac mccarthy

SEVERANCE by ling ma

LIGHT FROM UNCOMMON STARS by ryka aoki

IDENTITTI by mithu m. sanyal

PIRANESI by susanna clarke

i want to read sci-fi/fantasy that won't break my brain

sci-fi and fantasy that is gentler on the brain cells. easier to grasp magic systems with multiple but not an overwhelming number of overlapping plotlines

EMILY WILDE'S ENCYCLOPAEDIA OF FAERIES by heather fawcett

KINGS OF THE WYLD by nicholas eames

THE JASMINE THRONE by tasha suri

THE CITY OF BRASS by s.a. chakraborty

A RIVER ENCHANTED by rebecca ross

JUNIPER AND THORN by ava reid

BLACK SUN by rebecca roanhorse

THE FINAL STRIFE by saara el-arifi

THE BONE SHARD DAUGHTER by andrea stewart

i want to read sci-fi/fantasy that forces me to lock the fuck in

i would not recommend picking these up as your first foray back into books after many years of not reading recreationally, but i'm not your mom.

THE SPEAR CUTS THROUGH WATER by simon jimenez

JADE CITY by fonda lee

THE FIFTH SEASON by n.k. jemisin

THE RAGE OF DRAGONS by evan winter

A MEMORY CALLED EMPIRE by arkady martine

GIDEON THE NINTH by tamsyn muir

THE ART OF PROPHECY by wesley chu

THE GRACE OF KINGS by ken liu

horrify me!

there is far more to the horror literary canon than stephen king and dean koontz, i promise. consider looking up warnings for these.

TENDER IS THE FLESH by agustina bazterrica

THE RUINS by scott smith

CONFESSIONS by kanae minato

EPISODE THIRTEEN by craig dilouie

REPRIEVE by james han mattson

MARY by nat cassidy

DEAD SILENCE by s.a. barnes

AUDITION by ryu murakami

THE SALT GROWS HEAVY by cassandra khaw

don't care, i want romance

some of these feature crossover genres, like fantasy and horror.

VAMPIRES OF EL NORTE by isabel cañas

DAUGHTER OF THE MOON GODDESS by sue lynn tan

SEVEN DAYS IN JUNE by tia williams

HAPPY PLACE by emily henry

ONE DARK WINDOW by rachel gillig

i want QUEER romance

again, a mix of historical, fantasy, and contemporary crossover genres.

WE COULD BE SO GOOD by cat sebastian

IN MEMORIAM by alice winn

MOST ARDENTLY by gabe cole novoa

A STRANGE AND STUBBORN ENDURANCE by foz meadows

A MARVELLOUS LIGHT by freya marske

THE EMPEROR AND THE ENDLESS PALACE by justinian huang

SPELL BOUND by f.t. lukens

SORRY, BRO by taleen voskuni

ONE LAST STOP by casey mcquiston

DELILAH GREEN DOESN'T CARE by ashley herring blake

i haven't felt anything since i read percy jackson/the hunger games in middle school/high school

adventure is still out there.

SCYTHE by neil shusterman

WE HUNT THE FLAME by hafsah faizal

SIX OF CROWS by leigh bardugo

GEARBREAKERS by zoe hana mikuta

i'll read anything that's not straight or white

many books in the above categories fit this, but here's even more, across a variety of genres.

LAST NIGHT AT THE TELEGRAPH CLUB by malinda lo

BABEL by r.f. kuang

WHEN THE RECKONING COMES by latanya mcqueen

THE UNBROKEN by c.l. clark

IF YOU'LL HAVE ME (graphic novel) by eunnie

LEGEND OF THE WHITE SNAKE by sher lee

THIS IS HOW YOU LOSE THE TIME WAR by amal el-mohtar and max gladstone

SHE WHO BECAME THE SUN by shelley parker-chan

"all ya books suck"

like any other genre or book age group, there are duds and there are standouts. ya is not special in this regard. try some of these!

DIVINE RIVALS by rebecca ross

STRIKE THE ZITHER by joan he

THE RED PALACE by june hur

A STUDY IN DROWNING by ava reid

EMPIRE OF SAND by tasha suri

LEGENDBORN by tracy deonn

i check out and read a lot of these books for free via my local library by using the libby app (you can even add your friends' library cards to gain access to libraries in places you don't live). when i'm feeling like reading via audiobook, i use libro fm!

look, no one HAS TO read diversely. no one is going to be reverse fahrenheit 451'd and locked in a room with no fanfic and only books and not let out until they work their way through the entire literary canon. but reading, and reading widely, and reading diversely, is what teaches people to form their own opinions and question the things they are told. it's why they hang up stuff like "READ READ READ!!" in grade school classrooms.

we live under systems that increasingly benefit from going unquestioned. no, of course reading ASSASSIN'S APPRENTICE by robin hobb is not going to dismantle these systems tomorrow, nor probably even in our lifetimes. but doing it will help set up a world capable of doing it in the future. and until further notice, we are all part of this wretched world. might as well read a good story while we're here.

anyway, i'm reading THE WEST PASSAGE by jared pechaček and the new cmq book this week.

#read books! i promise it's not 'all colleen hoover' THERE IS SO MUCH OUT THERE.#and the more attention that nonwhite noncishet narratives get the more this signals to the market that audiences are interested!#inb4 'why did fanfic catch strays 😭 fanfic is still reading' it absolutely is! and is integral to the fannish ecosystem!#they're not worse or better - but they're fundamentally different and serve a different purpose #my credentials are that i've read/written fanfic for 15 years and have written 2 million words of it through my life LIKE I'M ONE OF YOU.#anyway. i expect this will get like 12 notes but i had to know i did my part.

366 notes · View notes

batsycline69 · 3 months ago

Text

Beneath Some Old Moon

Summary: After a close call with the Two Face Gang, you offer your savior--the mysterious Crusader--some hospitality.

(alternatively, save a horse...)

Pairing: Cowboy!Bruce Wayne x reader

Words: 5.9k

Content/warnings: old west cowboy au, historical inaccuracies probably, threatening scenario, guns, p in v sex, cowgirl (get it?), sort of sub!bruce, unprotected sex, reader is not described, reader's horse is not named

Wind whips across your face as you ride as fast as your horse will take you.

The Two Face gang hoots and hollers behind you. At the front, Harvey ‘Two Face’ Dent, leading his group of men.

You’d stayed in town too long, caught up in the gossip of a stranger riding in. The rumors were he was the same guy who stopped some bandits down in the prairie. Of course, your current predicament doesn’t really seem worth the whispers, because wherever his Crusader stranger is, it’s not here. It’s just you attempting to outrun a gang of five as they quickly gain on you.

Your horse may be well trained, but she isn’t used to this speed the way the gangs’ likely are.

Shots ring out around the ground by your horse’s hooves, drowning the men’s laughter. Dirt kicks up into the air. Before you really know what’s happening, you’re flat on your back, the air knocked from your lungs. Above you, clouds collect over the stars, leaving nothing but the large bright moon.

If you’re killed here tonight, you hope that’s the last thing you see.

The gang circles you on their horses. Yours runs off towards the ranch. You imagine it waiting by the stable for you, only for you to never arrive. You think of your cows, come morning waiting to be fed. You take what little solace you can knowing the widow nearby will notice when the animals begin to get rowdy from their hunger if the neighbor boy’s late to help as he often is.

Hooves trample around you as the men trap you. You feel something damp along your side, and for a moment, you think you might be bleeding. As you raise a trembling hand to your side, it takes you a second to realize it’s not blood at all. One of the jars of canned peaches you picked up in town shattered when you hit the ground. Shards of glass jostle in your satchel as you try to sit back up.

You’re still gasping for air, trying to fill your aching lungs with everything that had been knocked out of you. Thoughts race through your head as you try to think of any good way out of here, but you’re surrounded and unarmed.

A sudden yell snaps you from your oxygen-deprived daze. Dent is now on the ground with you, outside the ring of horses, and being dragged away.

Yelling and hooves trampling deafen you before you can process what’s happening. Shots ring out again, and you flinch, anticipating impact. Instead, powerful legs race by you as the horses charge towards a single man.

A full moon’s light illuminates the fight. You wheeze and stagger back. Two Face wriggles on the ground in the restraints of the lasso around his shoulders.

Though you can’t really be certain, you feel an innate sense of knowledge that this is the stranger people whispered about in town. You’d accidentally met his eyes this morning. They were bluer than the sky on a clear day. Like peering into a stream of crystal clear water.

Now he lures the gang away from you, his horse weaving to avoid their shots. You keep waiting for the moment he pulls his gun out on them, but the moment never comes. The stranger ducks as he guides the men between two boulders. Your vision still swims slightly as you squint to figure out why.

Your questions are answered when the first two men following the stranger hit something and spring back from their horses towards the other two men behind them. Dirt kicks up around them as the horses fall into disarray, bucking and crying out before running in all different directions.

The stranger turns his horse, dismounting before the pile of outlaws sprawled out onto the ground. You watch in stunned silence as he unties a rope from the boulders, wrapping it around the dazed group of men.

When his work is done, the man straightens up and turns towards you. Yet again, you’re stunned by the blue of his eyes. In the moonlight, they look almost ghostly.

He takes his horse and leads it over to you by its reins. He towers above you where you’re still on the ground. Embarrassment creeps up your spine as you think about the fact you should have stood up by now.

“Are you alright?” he asks, stretching out a hand dressed in black leather for you to take. His voice is gruff, the words clipped. In his other hand, he holds his hat. He took it off as soon as he approached you.

After a moment’s hesitation, your hand wraps around his. He pulls you back up to your feet with ease. You nod and manage to breathe a thank you, finally beginning to catch your breath. Your eyes drift towards the gang tied up on the ground. The sound of the stranger’s voice pulls your gaze back up to him.

“Were you out walking at this time of night?” he asks. His voice makes it sound as if he’s accusing you of something.

You huff slightly. “No, I wasn’t walking out here,” you snap. Guilt quickly takes over for your short fuse, but the stranger doesn’t seem startled either way. You imagine he encounters far worse than the likes of you. “My horse ran off when they started chasing us. They were shooting at the ground. She threw me.”

The stranger nods. “Where were you going?” he asks.

You have half a mind to lie. It would be the smart thing to do, wouldn’t it? All you know of this man comes from town gossip, and the incredible feat you’d just seen in front of you, neither of which give complete promise that you’re safe with him. What’s to say he isn’t going to want something in return for helping you? What good would giving this man your address do?

At the same time, however, you realize this really is no place for you to be wandering round at night, even with the moon so full and bright. The silvery light casts shadows over the man’s face, and you catch sight of a scar across his jawline.

“My ranch. Just that way,” you say, eyes flickering towards the small outline of the ranch at the top of the small slope ahead.

Wordlessly, the man mounts his horse again, gloved hand yet again out for you to take. What he expects of you is obvious.

“What about them?” you ask, looking back to the gang.

“Sheriff’ll pick ‘em up,” he replies. He hand still reaches out towards you like he knows you’ll take it.

You do.

He hoists you onto the horse behind him. Up close, he smells like earth and sweat and the smoke of a bonfire. Your arms wrap around his sturdy torso. You get the feeling that the display of skill you’d seen earlier is only a portion of what this strange man is capable of.

You catch yourself wondering what he must look like beneath the dust-coated clothes he wears. For your own sake, you write it off as being flustered from the whole ordeal.

You trot back to the ranch, your grip tight on the man. You realize he might be going slow for your sake. You could get there in half the time if you told him he could ride faster, but you don’t. The slower you go, the more time you have to digest everything that’s happened.

Silence falls between the two of you. You’re thankful he doesn’t ask questions. For a man of his reputation, you can only imagine what he must think of you getting thrown from your horse so easily.

Above head, thunder rolls, filling the lull. People in town talked plenty about the storm that was going to roll through. After the man your arms are wrapped around, that was the hot topic. You won’t admit it out loud, but you’re relieved then to have gotten a ride with him. At least you wouldn’t get caught in the rain.

From a distance, you spot your horse trotting around in front of the stable at home. The man slides off the saddle before holding out his hands to help you off. His gentlemanly charm catches you by surprise. The gruffness of his voice had led you to expect something else.

“Thank you,” you say again.

He regards you carefully with his icy eyes for a moment. “You should be more careful,” he says.

Suddenly, being whisked away by a mysterious stranger loses the allure.

You cross your arms over your chest. “That’s awfully presumptuous for a man who just road in,” you reply. “How do you know I’m not careful?”

“Because I had to scare the Two Face Gang off of you.”

The scowl deepens on your face. “How do you know I’m not usually careful?”

He holds your gaze a second longer than is comfortable. “Two Face isn’t in the business of asking if you’re usually careful,” he replies.

Your eyes narrow to slits at him. His expression has never changed—always a carefully guarded, unreadable frown—but you imagine he’s being smug, or whatever his version of smug is. You don’t appreciate this man you don’t know telling you what to do, and you’re sure as hell not going to let him think otherwise.

You scoff. “You have been here all of a couple of hours. Forgive me if I take whatever it is you think I should or should not do with a grain of salt.”

He stares at you. Already, this man prickles your nerves in a way no one else ever has. You’re not used to silence like this; he’s using it against you, but for what, you’re not quite sure.

“What’s your name, anyway?” you ask. Your weight shifts into one of your hips.

“They call me the Crusader.”

You try not to roll your eyes. “I know that’s what they call you. But what’s your name?”

Silence. Your eyes narrow even more.

“Not much of a conversationalist, are you?”

“Nope.”

You curse under your breath. “Fine. Thank you for helping me. Thank you for the ride home. You can leave.”

He doesn’t budge, nor do you. You want to scream in his face and ask him what he wants. If he’s not going to talk, why is he haunting your doorstep? You’re not sure what kind of response to expect from him with that kind of outburst, though, and you’ve pressed your luck enough as it is for the evening.

Finally, he speaks.

“I’m not...good at this sort of thing,” he says. His fist is clenched at his side, yet you’re not sure it’s meant as a threat.

“What sort of thing?”

He scowls at you like you’re supposed to understand someone you just met.

“What, talking to people?” you add when he doesn’t explain himself. “Yeah, I can kind of tell.” And everything starts to click. The silence isn’t that of a grumpy, worn cowboy—at least not exclusively—but of a man who spends so much time on his own, he no longer knows how to connect with anyone.

“What’s your name?” you ask again. This time, there’s more patience in your voice.

“Bruce,” he replies. For what feels like the first time in the very short period you’ve known him, you get a straight answer. You return the favor by giving him your name. He repeats it like he’s savoring a treat.

His loneliness is a ghost, threatening to haunt you if you turn him away.

Thunder cracks in the sky again. A heavy drop falls from the sky, splattering on your shoulder. The stars are blocked out by the heavy clouds that had been collecting all day. “You aren’t thinking about going out in that, are you?” you ask.

“Just some rain. Never hurt anyone.”

You purse your lips together. There isn’t a single reason you should trust this man enough to invite him into your home while you sleep. But you can’t just let him wander off into the storm, can you?

You don’t want him wandering around soaking wet, shirt clinging to his broad chest, pants tight across his thick thighs He’d catch a cold. Plus, the man is lonely. You can imagine the isolation of the prairies are something that could wear on a person. He could use someone to talk to. He saved your life, after all.

“You should stay,” you say.

He looks surprised. Or maybe his face hasn’t moved and it’s just your imagination. But he doesn’t respond right away. His horse shakes its mane. You turn away from him, grabbing your horse’s reins to lead it to it. You’re in awe when Bruce follows.

“Your horse have a name?” you ask, turning back over your shoulder to look at him. It’s a peace offering, of sorts.

He’s tall. You were able to more passively figure that out when you first saw him, but up close, it’s even harder to ignore. Not only is he tall, but he’s broad. You see manual laborers all day, but Bruce is something else. “I call her Bats.”

You laugh softly. “Why’s that?” you ask. Something about the name tempers your nerves. A name isn’t enough to totally give your trust over to Bruce, but you hear the fondness as he speaks of her. A man who has proven himself to be very gruff, with his reclusive nature, has a soft spot for his horse.

“Found her over in some canyons by a bunch of bats.” He rustles her dark mane. Your lips quirk up into a smile.

Bruce waits at the front of the stable as you stable your horse. You pretend like you aren’t unnerved by his staring.

“You’re welcome to keep her here,” you offer again.

A bright light flashes behind Bruce’s back. A few seconds later, a loud clap of thunder. Bats lets out a startled whinny.

“Alright,” Bruce says, though he makes no pains to sound happy about it.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” you ask. Your knees are pulled to your chest. You watch the flames from your fireplace flicker across Bruce’s face.

He took his hat off when he came inside like a gentleman. Despite his brusque attitude, he has manners. One that seem deeply ingrained in him. You have more questions you’d like to ask, but considering you have to wrestle every piece of information about himself out of him, you decide not to press your luck.

“Nope,” he replies. Flames flicker in his eyes.

“Where are you from?”

The fire crackles. Rain patters against your roof. Thunder rolls in the lull of the storm. Bruce says it’ll come back. You trust him on this.

“Out east.”

You nod. “Did you save people out there, too?”

“No.”

A thin scar runs through his thick, dark brow. He stares into the fireplace like he’s hoping to learn a secret. You feel like you’re interrupting something every time you say something, so this time you don’t.

With how unwilling he is to speak, you worry you’re bothering him. He said he’s not good at talking with people, but you wonder if it’s because he just doesn’t like it. Or maybe he doesn’t like you. So you let the storm and the fire fill the silence.

You don’t mind Bruce’s presence, even if he might mind yours. He’s still a stranger in your home, but you’re becoming more convinced that he isn’t unkind, even if he is maybe unlikable. But unlikable feels like too harsh of a word, even for a harsh person.

“You get lonely out here on your own?” he asks. You hadn’t been expecting for him to ask you anything at all, let alone something so personal. Maybe you are a little lonely; you’d been pondering this man’s loneliness, hadn’t you? You’d guess he was something of an expert.

“I suppose I do.” A beat. “Do you get lonely out there?” You nod towards your rain-speckled window, though you mean the greater world outside of it.

“I’ve got Bats,” he says.

You nod again.

What’s he looking for doing the things he does? Despite your best attempts, he’s still a mystery to you. A hard shell with some sort of kindness buried inside, though what kind and for what reasons, you’re not sure. He helps people. You heard about his reputation in town. He’d helped you. He takes his hat off and helps people down from horses. That has to count for something.

Bruce doesn’t seem like the kind of man to get attached. Beyond that, you shouldn’t be so optimistic or naive to believe he’s the sort of man you want attachments to. A lifestyle like his isn’t one that lends itself to a long life.

“You’re welcome to wash up, if you’d like,” you say.

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Are you saying I smell?”

You shrug your shoulders. “I’m just offering the accommodations I have.” But, truth be told, you were concerned about the dirt you’re sure he’s picked up traveling around. You’re the one who will have to wash the world out of your sheets once he leaves you behind.

He doesn’t argue with you, but there is a brief hesitation. You wonder how much of this is just who he is, or if it’s at all just a result of the world he navigates through. How many strangers has he encountered who took advantage of his trust. But surely he must recognize up against him, you’re not much of a threat. But maybe your attempts at getting to know him are threat enough.

You were the first to turn in. After tossing and turning for a while, worrying about the unattended stranger in your home, you fell asleep.

Darkness still swallows you room when you next open your eyes. You’re not sure what rouses you. The once violent storm has subsided to just pattering rain on your window. The house is still. For a moment, you think Bruce may be asleep, but the stillness feels more firm than that. It’s not a house asleep; it’s a house emptied.

You get up, and slip your robe on. You carefully avoid the creaky floorboards you know by heart as you creep to your door. You turn the knob slowly, not wanting to alert your strange new friend. But as you sneak about your own home, you realize he’s not here. The bed he’d been laying in is empty, sheets turned over.

Your sleep-addled brain wants you to rummage through the house, make sure he didn’t sneak off with anything while you slept. But an unfamiliar worry knots your stomach for a reason you can’t seem to pinpoint. Almost like you’re disappointed he’s already gone.

As you run out into the rain, you decide you’ll blame this all on waking up in the middle of the night. You’re clearly not fully awake just yet. You stagger through the mist and into the stable, expecting to see an empty spot where Bats should be.

Instead, you see Bruce, back against the gate, chin slumped to his chest. His black hat covers his eyes, arms crossed over his chest.

“Oh,” you breathe.

As quiet as you’d tried to be, the soft utterance is enough for Bruce’s head to snap up. His muscles tense, and he looks very suddenly ready for a fight.

His eyes land on you, standing in the frame of the stable in your night clothes, and he relaxes some. “Just you,” he says, laughing to himself. He takes off his hat, and his heavy-lidded eyes land on you. You realize he’s expecting you to say something for interrupting his sleep.

“The storm’s passed. I thought you might have…” You trail off. What would it matter if Bruce had gone off? What difference would that make, and why do you you care?

He looks at Bats’ sleeping form in the hay. “She’s not much used to being alone.” His deep voice is rough with sleep. Your mouth feels dry. “Didn’t want her skittish from the storm.”

A nod doesn’t seem to be a sufficient reply, but what are you supposed to say? The kindness of this man sleeping out in your barn when he has a bed inside leaves you speechless.

“Right.” Your gaze follows him as he stands up.

“Everything alright?” he asks. He takes a half step towards you.

You nod again, your feet deciding to move up a step in return. “Yeah. Just…”

Just what, you don’t know. This is another silence with Bruce you don’t know how to fill. You watched this man outride the Two Face Gang. You watched him best Two Face himself when you’ve heard the whole town talk about how fierce he was supposed to be. And he’s sleeping out in your stable because he doesn’t want his horse to be spooked.

He’s a few feet away from you. Too far. Even when you sat beside the fire together, you were still too far away from him. You can’t stand it anymore.

You cross the stable, stopping only a foot away from him. You could reach out and brush your fingertips along his jaw if you had the nerve to raise your hand. He doesn’t step any closer, but right now, his attention is only on you. You feel naked before him, stripped just from his survey. Your breathing grows heavy just from the way he looks at you.

His dark, heavy brows only add to the intensity of focus. His chest rises and falls; you realize now he’s down to his undershirt, the cotton thin and worn. You catch sight of the dark chest hair sprawling across his skin.

Finally, just when you feel like you’re going to explode, you wrap your arms around him, your face angled towards his lips, hovering just before them. He doesn’t look away. His gaze is fixed on you, but he never makes any sign he wants you to stop.

His large palms reach for your waist, keeping you firmly in front of him. Your heart leaps. You want his hands all over you. You want to relish in him, marvel he is. Make this lonely man feel a little less lonely.

His lips are dry as yours brush over them. Riding out in the sun and the cold is tough on the skin; you know that well. You wonder what the last real taste of tenderness this man has experienced is.

If Bruce needs another place to surrender, let your body be it. Let him find peace with you, even if for a fleeting moment.

Finally, you press a soft, chaste kiss to his lips to test the waters. His fingertips curl into your clothes as if that touch alone would reassure you’d kiss him again. He may not have much to say, but even buried beneath all the stoicism, you find he needs touch just as much as anyone else.

You wonder how long it’s been since he’s touched someone else with tenderness.

Your drive comes from the eagerness of his response. You like to feel needed, too. Like knowing there’s a purpose you have here. You have a way to thank him for helping you, something more than a roof over his head. Something less temporary, because at least when he rides away, he’ll have something to remember you by.

When you kiss him again, you’re more eager, more confident of your goal. Bruce responds in kind. He kisses you like a man starved. You know almost nothing about him, and yet, you feel as if you understand him. Maybe it’s just the close call with a bad crowd. Maybe it’s just the fact that a man so worn by the weather shouldn’t be that gorgeous, and you just want a reason for wanting him this badly. Whatever it is, you feel like he might understand you, too.

He leans against the stable, holding you to his chest as a hand cups the back of your head. Your fingers fold into his hair, wishing you could wrap yourself around him fully. Wishing there was a way to get rid of all of the space between the two of you.

Your teeth graze his lip, poking the boundaries again. His grip on you tightens even more. You take that as a positive reaction and gently bite down on his lower lip, pulling back some.

By the time you pull away, you’re breathless and dizzy, drunk off his presence.

You grab him by the front of his shirt, tugging him out of the stable, still crowding in his space. If Bruce minds, he certainly isn’t giving any signs. He guides you as you blindly walk backwards through the ranch, his arm hooked around your waist to keep you upright.

The security of his touch has you pulling him back to you, crashing into a kiss yet again as the brim of his hat keeps your lips sheltered from the rain. He keeps the both of you moving. You let him; he’s been inside the house now. You know he knows where he’s going.

And soon, you feel your back hit the door. You reach behind you, not bothering to look as you fumble for the door handle, one hand still gripping onto Bruce like you can’t stand to lose him. He has you pressed onto the door. When you finally find the handle, the door swings open. On a different day, you would have fallen flat on your back. Bruce catches you. Not even that, because he’s holding you, you don’t even begin to fall.

You manage to tear apart long enough for him to pull his shirt off over his head. Your eyes widen at the sight of his scarred skin. Dipping in some parts, puckering in others. Carefully, you run a hand up the skin, fingertips brushing over the coarse hair on his chest.

There isn’t time for more observation before he’s working your clothes off as well. When you’re clothes are scattered all around the room, he pulls you back to him. Warm skin presses into warm skin. The feeling of him even just like this is intoxicating. You could bury yourself in him and be the most peaceful you’ve ever been in your life.

Bruce doesn’t resist as you turn him around, pushing him down onto the bed. It squeaks with his weight. He looks up at you, sitting off the end of the old mattress. You climb on top of him, straddling his lap.

He holds you against his chest. His lips brush over the skin of your neck. You sigh, fingertips tangling in the ends of his hair yet again. You feel a growing bulge against your thigh that has the corners of your mouth pulling into a smirk.

You grind your hips down, breath hitching at the rise of pleasure. Bruce sighs against your skin. The rush goes to your head; here you have a very skilled man with a reputation for being unstoppable in your bed. He’s surrendered himself to you, and you imagine that’s not something he often does.

Once more, your hips press down into his. Your head falls back as you let out a soft breathy moan. Bruce groans into your skin as his kiss trails down your chest. His calloused hands run up the exposed skin of your legs, gripping onto your hips. When you don’t move, he moves you himself. He grinds against you while rolling your hips towards his.

You let out another pleasured cry. Your nails bite into his shoulder, and his breath picks up. Figures he’s the kind of guy who wants it to hurt at least a little.

Bruce rocks you against him, but it’s just not enough. Not close enough, not full enough. You need more of him. You pull back slightly. The hand that isn’t clawing at his skin pulls his face back from your chest. Your nails drag across his back as you slide off his lap, bending down to undo his pants.

His cock springs up. The outline of it presses up against the thin cotton of his drawers. Warmth pools in the pit of your stomach. Your ache for him comes to a desperate mount.

When it’s nothing but the two of you stripped bare, you rest your hand back on his chest, pushing him down into the mattress. He smirks and goes down willingly, cock twitching as he stares up at you.

The mattress dips as you lean a knee onto the bed, moving to straddle him yet again. His eyes are intense in the dim light. Steely eyes fixed to you with such focus, you’d maybe be unnerved if having all his attention to yourself didn’t fill your stomach with butterflies.

You wrap your hand around his cock as you slowly sink down onto him. The weight of your head tips back yet again as you adjust to how very full he makes you feel. Burying him inside of you alone is enough to have you seeing stars; his cock hits a spot deep inside of you, something blinding you can’t quite reach on your own.

Bruce’s hands dig into your hips again like he wants to take charge, but he holds back.

When you get used to the sensation of him inside you, you pull his hands away from your hips, threading your fingers between his.

“Relax, cowboy,” you whisper, your cunt fluttering around him. You take his hands and pin them next to his head. “Lemme say thank you for saving my life.” You lean down, so slick you slide up his cock with ease. You feel him jerk against your walls as you press a soft kiss just below his ear.

You’re positive it would take no effort for him to flip you over, take you exactly the way he wants to, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t even struggle against you. He’s at your mercy, but only because he’s allowing himself to be.

Oddly, you feel honored.

You sit back up, hands sliding down Bruce’s scarred arms, pussy engulfing his cock yet again. A breath catches in your throat as you hit that same spot deep inside. Your palms rest on his chest, fingers splayed out, and you begin to rock your hips against him. He doesn’t protest the weight of your hands. His palms ghost over the skin of your arms, sliding up your back to wrap into your hair. There’s no escaping his gaze except in the moments your eyelids flutter with bliss.

Grinding against him has a sweet warmth building in your stomach. You groan and sigh as you ride him, and he starts to smirk.

“You sound beautiful, darlin’,” he says, pulling you to his lips again. Your cunt is still wrapped around his tip as he cups your jaw with one hand, the other smoothing down the skin of your back. From this angle, you can’t sink back down onto him, and your pussy feels woefully empty,

But Bruce shifts suddenly, legs bent, and begins thrusting into you. His lips don’t dare to leave yours, muffling your gratified cry. He grips your ass, lowering you onto his cock as he thrusts up, getting deeper than even before.

You gasp, knowing you won’t be able to keep back your climax at this rate.

“Let’s see if you can handle some bucking better now than you did earlier,” he growls. You’d feel embarrassed that he’d seen your horse throw you if you weren’t so cock drunk. But it’s just enough to embolden you.

“I told you earlier, Mr. Crusader,” you say, swatting his hands away. “I know how to take care of myself.” You lean back onto your knees again, bouncing on his cock. His hands run over your chest, your ass, whatever he can reach, but he doesn’t seem to be able to get enough.

You can relate.

“Sit up,” you order breathlessly.

“Yes ma’am,” he complies with a playful smirk. The contrast between the gruff man who’d swept you away from danger is staggering. Now, you would even go so far as to say he seems to be enjoying himself.

His chest presses up against yours. You crash your lips against his as you ride him. He winds one arm around your waist again, the other back in your hair. For leverage, you keep your palms onto his shoulders. Your teeth graze over his bottom lip again before biting down. His grip only tightens.

The pleasure is mounting. Your rhythm begins to get sloppier, less steady as you try to chase your orgasm.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Lemme see you take care of yourself,” he teases as you pull away from the kiss, working him deep inside of you.

Your nails dig back into his skin at the words. Your breath catches again. You grind down onto him at just the right angle and everything seems to fall away.

You cry out. If Bruce wasn’t there, you’d fall just like before, but he catches you as you release. Your cunt squeezes around him, and he growls again.

“That’s right. You got one more for me?” he asks. As you ride out the afterglow of your orgasm, Bruce takes your hips again, using his strength to keep you sinking down onto his cock.

“Uh-huh…” you pant, nodding as you give the work over to him.

With his hands on your ass, he moves you up and down onto him. His grip is secure. With what little focus you have at this point, you find yourself fixated by watching the muscles of his arm work your body weight with ease.

Without a break between your first orgasm and the now furious pace at which Bruce fucks himself with your cunt, you feel another climax approaching. Bruce knows. His focus has never waned from your face, infatuated with the details of your expression as you ride him.

Now that he’s doing all the work, you take your hands and cup his cheeks, your lips finding his again in a messy kiss. You’re ravenous for him, wired off of your own bliss. If you don’t ground yourself with him, this seemingly endlessly grounded man, you’d fly away.

Bruce bites down on your lip now, a forceful grip that has you moaning.

His hips stutter. You feel it just as you’re teetering over the edge. One hand moves from his cheek, tugging onto his hair. He moans, and the sound alone pushes you until you’re throbbing around him yet again, body shivering with the force of your release.

Bruce marvels at your open mouthed cries, eyes pinched shut. He slams you down onto his cock, his grip almost bruising as you feel him twitch and cum inside of you.

There’s a beat as you both float on your high, still clinging to each other. Your heart hammers against his chest. Bruce breathes against you. It’s still not close enough, but it’s the closest you’d likely get.

You duck your head into his neck, resting your forehead against his sturdy shoulder. Half-moon indents linger on his skin from your nails. You just smile.

“How’s that for a thank you?” you ask when you finally catch your breath.

He chuckles softly, the tips of his fingers brushing against the skin of your back. “Well, next time you’re in trouble, just call for me. Me and Bats’ll come running.”

AN: huge shout out to @janybabyy, @fic-over-cannon, and @youknowwhoiamperiod for helping me with brainstorming this 💛 i appreciate it big time

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne smut #x reader #cowboy!bruce #dividers by saradika

266 notes · View notes

yandere-wishes · 1 year ago

Text

𝐼𝓂𝓅𝑜𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒮𝓎𝓃𝒹𝓇𝑜𝓂𝑒

Summary: Miles is the villain. You are the hero. You two shouldn't be in love...

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, afab!reader, canon typical Marvel violence. the reader is an undefined hero (but you can think of them as Spidergirl). No NSFW but both reader and Miles are 18+

Part #2 (The Perfect Girl)

part#3 (The Spider's Web)

There's something about the New York nights, that leaves a faint melancholy glow across Miles's soul.

Some vanquished feeling that humbles him as the stars and moon look down laughing. Celestial bodies that mock him for every sin he's ever committed. Howling at the blood that drips from the edge of his claws.

Miles never thought he was an insomniac. It just so happened that most of his life and routine took place in the dead of night. It had all been a coincidence until he met you. Now he's not sure if it's bad habits or sheer serendipity. All he knows is that he needs to see your face before the night comes to an end.

He hadn't really met you. Not in the traditional sense at least. He'd been sent to kill you. An initiation from the sinister six. Back then he'd thought you were just another sanctimonious fool who was trying to play the role of the righteous hero. There had been many like you before. foolish and virtuous. All were left dead in some ally by daybreak. And yet when you'd landed punch after punch to his ribs. Your body slam caused him to spew blood from behind his mask. You were a tough bug to squish he'd give you that much.

Miles hadn't fallen in love with you that night. Nor the nights after that.

It wasn't love the first time your web dagger nearly missed his heart.

It wasn't love when he had you pinned between his body and the cold street concrete, as you tried to pry off his mask to gouge out his eyes.

It wasn't love when he'd shattered the bones in your leg and you'd been out of commission for a week.

It wasn't love when the two of you lay bleeding on a rooftop. Delusional enough from all the blood loss to try and trace constellations in the polluted night sky.

It wasn't love when you'd returned to that same rooftop the next week to beat him up. And he'd managed to lay a nasty blow to your face.

It hadn't been love all those times. Yet all he knows is that somewhere along the lines Miles Morales had fallen in love with the new hero in town.

He knows you're coming

Senses your presence right as one of the sinister six's weapon cartels blows up in the distance. You never were one to be caught in the aftermath. Ever the dramatic sweetheart, who didn't like to get her hands dirty.

He waits for the telltale sign of your feet hitting the rooftop to turn around. Mask on and heart on his sleeve. "Prowler" you greet, courteous as always. "Hey," he responds. Solid and simple and overflowing with every emotion he wishes he could spill at your feet.

His eyes roam over your suit. Modest and girly, all things you wouldn't expect from New York's only superhero. You look like a doll. All porcelain and ivory. How you've survived so long in this city is beyond him.

There's something wrong with you. Something Miles just can't put his finger on. Every time he looks at you it's like looking into a broken mirror. You're Disfigured, mangled, damaged. Yet all he sees in those shattered shards is the face of the boy he once thought he'd be.

You're the light of New York. The one that promises to save this nightmare of a city. Made up of frilly bows and dreams to big to keep locked up in your head. The rage of the city, of the civilians boils through your blood.

He's the Prowler. A boy born with rebellion in his bones and violence in his veins. A broken heart and a broken soul stitched together with barbwire and cheap glue. He's the sinister six's newest protege and uncle Aaron’s last hope.

He's the villain and you're the hero. You shouldn't be in love.

You skip across the rooftop, arms locked behind your back and spinning when it takes your fancy. You've long since shed any fear you may have once held for him. Standing on your tip toes you rest your chin on his shoulder. "Whatcha looking at?" you ask, with a voice filled with daisies and the summer breeze. "Pieces for my new suit were in the warehouse you just blew up." Oh how Miles wishes he could throw you over the edge. Watch you fall to your death. Maybe then you'd stop plaguing his every thought.

"Sorry, Prowler just doing my job." You sound so carefree, it almost reminds him of how he used to be when his dad had still been alive. "You're an insufferable little insect, you know that?" He feels you smile from under your silk mask."I try"

You're not meant to be the hero. He knows this in his bones. You're too naive and soft-hearted to deal with the terrors of this city. More than anything else Miles Just wants to drag you away. To lock you up somewhere. Somewhere only he knows. A home where the burdens and terrors of this world can't find either of you. A place where you two can finally become one.

But you're not him and he's not you. All this is just a puppy dog crush. And puppy love is for baby-faced boys who didn't watch the life drain from their father's eyes. It's for sweet boys who didn't have their first kill at ten years old.

"what's it like being the hero?" Miles asks, eyes glazing over the stars, staring straight at destiny. Who chose their roles anyway? Who made him the monster carved from rage and pain? Who painted you as the Guardian angel in gold? Why couldn't he be the hero?

You don't respond. Breath hitching and for a second Miles thinks he's hit a nerve. No one ever said doing the right thing was easy. He wonders if you claw away at your own soul. Peeling off your flesh each night to replace it with a silk suit and copper-tainted values.

He imagines you throwing cheap knives at the night sky, watching as God's light deflects them back into your heart.

You walk over to the edge of the roof and sit down. And for the first time ever Miles thinks he sees you for who you really are. Actually sees you. A kid with the weight of the world on their shoulders. An onomatopoeia of breaking glass and the cheers of the cities oppressed.

"They're coming for me, Prowler." You pull your knees to your chest. Eyes looking over the city skyline. "I don't mind. I knew what I was getting into...It's just."

"Just what" his voice reverberates through his mask, he's grateful the metal and digital layers keep the anxiety from seeping through.

"I just never thought I'd die this way" There's a smile in your voice. A final giggle before an impending war. Miles takes a step back. Head heavy as the weight of your words crash down on him. "I saw Venom lurking through my apartment before I came here. They found me, I think they plan to strike tonight."

He wishes he could tear this city apart, break its seams, and rapture its pillars. He can't let you die. He just can't. With a forceful tug on your shoulder he turns you his way. Mask slipping away as he slides his finger under your silk facade as he pulls it away.

Miles's lips capture yours. As he kisses the dying stars trapped under your tongue and behind your teeth. His lips trail down your neck as he kisses the fatigue from your bones. Metal claws clutched tightly around you as if you may decay if he lets go.

Sometimes he wants to dismantle his ribcage, piece by piece. Pickaway at the ribs and offer you his blackened heart on a silver platter. It's not his fault that he fell in love with the girl stitched together from radioactive spider bites and misplaced nightmares.

every time Miles sees you he feels a certain feeling like the world turned upside down. Like he woke up fundamentally broken with no way to piece himself back.

His claws trace up, gliding past your shoulders' to your neck. You don't refuse him, feeling safe for the first time since you dawned your mask and made your vows. You let him touch your neck as your naivety shines through. He won't hurt me, you think. But oh, how wrong you are.

Miles wraps his fingers around your neck. Squeezing and squeezing as he watches you claw at metal. You look so beautiful suspended over the edge like this. There's something about being half awake and half asleep and half dead and half alive that makes you glow. He wants to say something along the lines of 'I love you'. He doubts you're conscious enough to hear him.

You're not his, not exactly. But Miles can't bear to let anyone else lay claim to you. It's a sickness he knows. But he'd rather be sick than lose you.

He'll keep you safe, he swears it. By the time you awaken, he'll have found somewhere safe for the two of you to hideout until he can convince his "mentors" to spare your life. It'll be fine, It has to be, after all...

He's Miles Morales, the Prowler

2K notes · View notes

shards-of-the-moon-and-stars · 8 months ago

Text

Hey if you ever wanna see OC lore from me donate to Palestine and I'm not kidding I'm holding OC lore ransom

#cassie rambles #shards of the moon and stars

1 note · View note

sillylotrpolls · 3 months ago

Text

Today's poll inspired by this post by @taleasoldastime-andspace, who was watching knife-making competition show Forged in Fire and asked the obvious lotr-related question, and @fistfuloflightning.

In the book, Narsil is broken into two shards (or possibly, only two large shards were recovered). In the movie, Narsil is shown in about five or six pieces. You can headcanon however many shards you like for your answer.

From Tolkien Gateway:

Elendil carried Narsil in the Battle of Dagorlad where it shone with the light of the Sun and Moon, and then in the Siege of Barad-dûr; but Sauron killed him and the sword broke into two pieces under him as he fell, and its light was extinguished. Elendil's son Isildur took up the sword and used its shard to cut the One Ring from the hand of Sauron. Isildur took the shards home with him. Shortly before Isildur was killed in the second year of the Third Age in the Disaster of the Gladden Fields, the shards were rescued by Ohtar, esquire of Isildur. He took them to Rivendell, where Isildur's youngest son Valandil was fostered, but Elrond foretold that it wouldn't be reforged until the One Ring was found again and Sauron returned.

From The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring: Part 2: Chapter 3: The Ring Goes South:

The Sword of Elendil was forged anew by Elvish smiths, and on its blade was traced a device of seven stars set between the crescent Moon and the rayed Sun, and about them was written many runes; for Aragorn son of Arathorn was going to war upon the marches of Mordor. Very bright was that sword when it was made whole again; the light of the sun shone redly in it, and the light of the moon shone cold, and its edge was hard and keen. And Aragorn gave it a new name and called it Andúril, Flame of the West.

#lotr #lord of the rings #narsil #anduril #swords #poll #polls #it came from tumblr

178 notes · View notes

ninoxwof · 1 year ago

Text

Dragon Weapons Concept

Wanted to make unique weapon designs for each tribe's soldiers/guards. Most of them are polearms! These are free to use with credit :]

Seawings' double as harpoons, Mudwings have more so something that's like a bludgeon/mace, and Rainwings are their blow guns. The bead colors on the sandwing weapons can also indicate the sandwing princess they are allying with. (I'll probably make a sheet exploring that in the future as well)

Thank you to my friend SailorHC who helped assist with designing the sandwings and mudwings weapons.

[Image ID: Digital drawings of different weapon concepts for the pyrrhia dragon tribes in wings of fire. The first one is for skywings, it's a spear plated with black, copper and gold colors, with a red ribbon tied attached. At the spear's tip, the copper colored blade is shaped like a flame, with two bird wing shaped decorations at the transition. The second one is for seawings. They are a spear that doubles as a harpoon with a pearly pink conch shell as the blade. It has a blue staff which then transitions at the base to be thicker with rope attached. The third is Icewing's. The blade is light blue crystal ice like shards fastened up with blue ribbons and tape at the socket. The beam is silvery with a handle at the end. Sandwings' bardiches are brown beams with long serrated blades that loops around and shapes a crescent shape. In between the two sections where the blade is attached is a tassel woven with two beads. At the end of the weapon, is a rattlesnake's rattle. Nightwings' spears have an off white blade shaped like a diamond star with a gray diamond decoration that has a purple gem on it. It's fastened tightly into a socket. The beam is black with the end having a crescent moon shaped handle. Second to last is Mudwings. They have a mace like stick that's black, gray and brown. The mace has three dull short spikes visible and a disarming blade that curves. At the end the handle is shaped like a lily pad where sibling troops can carve their troop name initials. Lastly are Rainwings' blow guns. They are tubes made with fresh bamboo with leaves still attached to it and a mouth piece and end part where the blow darts fly out molded with clay. /.End ID]

#wings of fire #wof art #weapon design #wof #skywing #seawing #icewing #sandwing #nightwing #mudwing #rainwing #concept art

1K notes · View notes

itsswritten · 9 months ago

Text

when the sea calls for three | intro

Paring: Azriel x Reader x Eris

Word Count: 1.5K

Summary: In the aftermath of war, peace reigns over the realms of Prythian, but the delicate balance hangs in the hands of two unlikely mediators—You and Lucien. As the newly appointed Emissaries of Peace, your duty is clear: maintain alliances, foster understanding between courts, and navigate the intricate webs of fae politics.

But when fate deals an unexpected twist, revealing that you possess not one, but two mates, the tranquillity you've worked so hard to uphold is suddenly threatened. Caught between two males who refuse to share, you find yourself thrust into a precarious position, torn between duty and desire.

What will you do and who will you choose?

I need you.

Those three words were all it took.

༄

In the soft glow of the morning light filtering through the room, flickering reflections of pinks and purples across the walls. Dawn Court had always been radiant, the sky, cobalt and rose. A sunrise all day long. You were proud to call it your home.

You stood before the ornate mirror, fingers delicately adjusting the intricate buttons of your tunic.

The decision to choose neutral clothing had been yours, a deliberate choice born from the realisation of what your new role weighed. You were to be a mediator, a peacekeeper, it only seemed fitting to don a uniform that symbolised your neutrality and dedication to maintaining balance among the realms.

The fabric shimmered with a subtle elegance, adorned with delicate motifs that whispered of the courts you now served. The tapestry of symbolism spoke something that words could not, of a new beginning, a new chapter– a time of peace.

The design along the back of your tunic, three majestic mountains rose proudly, their peaks reaching towards the heavens. Behind them, the sun emerged, casting its golden rays that spread warmth and light– a nod to your home.

In the left above, a fully fleshed sun beamed down upon the mountains, radiating its brilliance and vitality. To the right, three stars and a crescent moon were sewn with meticulous care, representing the rest of the solar courts and their celestial splendour.

On your left sleeve, leaves were hand stitched along your cuff, bronze thread danced in a graceful swirl, climbing upwards towards your elbow, mirroring the silver icy shards that adorned the right sleeve. Autumn and Winter in perfect harmony.

Around your collar, a delicate pattern of vines and roses intertwined, symbolising the beauty and vitality of the Spring Court's bloom. And along the trimmings of the tunic's bottom, waves swirled in a mesmerising dance, evoking the Summer Court's boundless energy and fluidity.

Your tunic jacket cascaded gracefully, halting just at your hips, while beneath it, a long, flowing cream pleated skirt billowed elegantly to the floor. With your hair initially draping freely, you gently pulled it forward, ensuring the intricate details adorning the back of your tunic were given their rightful moment to shine.

As you smoothed the fabric, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in the role you had been given. Playing a bridge between courts, and worlds. A mediator between the people.

Politics had never really been something you relished in, but you were good with people, and good with your words. Qualities that your friend desperately convinced you, were integral to this role.

A soft knock on the door interrupted your reverie, and you turned to see Lucien, your friend, standing in the doorway. His mechanical eye wiring at the sight of you. He was wearing a similar tunic, one that was longer on his body but mirrored the designs of your own.

It was Lucien who had told you he needed you.

I need you.

He had written to you one evening. His correspondences were usually lighthearted and filled with friendly banter, but this weighed heavily in a way that was so unlike him.

“I could really use your help.” Lucien had breathed, when you came to visit after his letter.

I need you. I need my friend. I need someone to lean on. I need someone to laugh with. It’s been too long. I miss you.

Was what you heard. His message had been simple yet poignant, a plea for assistance and companionship.

You had always had a way with words and sounds. Understanding the gaps in between the breaths, the underlying emotions and intentions woven into each syllable. Most didn't realise what could be revealed in their words. How the octaves and melodic tones of their tongues sung of unspoken truths.

Lucien and you had shared a friendship that spanned many years, reaching back to your earliest memories of childhood. As children and teens, you had been inseparable, playmates in a time that now felt like a distant memory. However, when borders grew stricter and tensions mounted, those days were abruptly halted.

It wasn't until the dark days of Amarantha's reign that fate brought you back together, through the intervention of Nuan, a mutual friend. She was a skilled Alchemist of your court, who had aided Lucein in his healing, crafting his beautiful golden eye. And because he was no longer a part of Autumn, you were able to reconnect and your friendship flourished, even if it was predominantly through ink and parchment.

"Ready to face them?" he asked with a tight smile, his voice carrying a note of anticipation.

I’m nervous. Is what you heard under his words.

You returned his smile with a nod, a playful glint dancing in your eyes. “Of course, I was born ready Lucie” you replied, effortlessly flicking his nickname with a casual ease.

Despite having a smart mouth now, Lucien was a name you often got tongue-tied in your younger years. Lucie had been a much easier sound to make, and you didn’t hesitate to use the endearing name when wanting to tease.

Lucien rolled his eyes, but your casual demeanour softened the nerves that had laced his previous words. That had been your intention.

Just one example of how your intuition always left you saying the right thing. Of course there were times this didn’t happen, but those occasions were extremely rare.

“We should decide which courts reside under our care before the meeting” Lucien began, striding in front of the mirror to adjust his own tunic. “And I have to say you’ve made more progress with Tamlin these past two months than I have in the past year," Lucien breathed, a hint of admiration in his voice while he smiled at you through the mirror.

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corner of your lips. "What, like it was hard?"

Tamlin's stubbornness had been a challenge, but your natural charisma and persuasion had proven effective in bridging the gap between his court and the others. His residents had at least started returning home, and thanks to your work, there was actually something for them to return to.

You huffed, before turning your friend around, pulling at his collar to adjust. Before tidying up his long auburn hair.

"I can’t do both though Lucien. I'm not dealing with your brothers and Tamlin. That's too much, even for me” You remarked.

Lucien’s relationship with his brothers remained strained, the scars of their shared trauma running deep. Despite Beron’s demise, Eris was now Autumn’s High Lord. The brothers wounds were not so easily healed, and the weight of their history continued to cast a shadow over their interactions.

“Plus I do believe some forced proximity may do you and Tamlin some good” you pointed a look at him, referencing their damaged friendship.

Lucien bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes narrowing at you. He couldn’t help but envy how effortlessly you seemed to navigate the complexities of every situation, every conversation. Always knowing the right words to say, and the right actions to take. Qualities that had undoubtedly drawn him to seek your assistance in the first place.

Qualities he forgot he would also be susceptible to.

"I'll look after Autumn and your hotheaded brothers. You deal with the depressed blondie," you suggested, a mischievous glint dancing in your eyes.

"Fine," Lucien conceded, begrudgingly acknowledging the wisdom in your words.

“I want Dawn, it’s my home and Thesan would be heartbroken if I wasn’t his courtier,” you asserted confidently.

"Then I'll have Day," Lucien negotiated, a hint of determination in his tone.

As the conversation turned to the remaining courts, you paused, considering the options carefully. The Night Court held a particular significance for Lucien, given his mate's presence there, but you were keenly aware of the tension that still lingered between them.

"I can take Night if that helps. I've already been the one updating their Spymaster recently anyway," you offered, your voice steady as you finally finished straightening up Lucien. Pulling your hands swiftly behind your back.

He mirrored your pose "Then I will manage Winter," Lucien conceded, a sense of resignation colouring his words. He wasn’t very fond of the cold, but neither were you.

But he was happy to take this one for you, as you had taken Autumn and Night for him.

"Summer is mine. You can have the humans, your Band of Rejects or whatever they're called," you remarked playfully.

"Exiles," Lucien corrected with a humorous purr, a brief flicker of amusement softening his eyes.

“Apologies…band of exile…-d rejects” you humoured, before you felt him nudge you with his shoulder.

Your soft laughs filled the room before you tilted your head to look at your dearest friend “Look at you now. Exiled no more. Mr. Emissary of Peace”

Lucien smiled proudly at the title, he had come a long way. This new chapter for Phrytian was daunting, but he was grateful to have you by his side “You ready?”

With a nod you grinned wide “Let’s go peacekeep the fuck out of them Lucie!”

Next Part >>

a/n: Eeeekkkk so here's a little intro to set the tone and roles! Just a little disclaimer, there will be a few things in this series that haven't happened in the books, but it works for the plot. Only small things, so just go with it please! Excited to share this story with you all <3 - Lottie x

#acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar azriel #azriel fanfic #angst #acotar fanfiction #acotar series #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #eris x azriel #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x reader #eris x reader x azriel #eris x y/n #eris x you #azriel x eris

372 notes · View notes