#the bubble of fluff was shattered like a broken window

[wildestheart4ever]

You know, I was so used to all the feel good fluffiness of Thomas-and-Martha-Wayne-being-revived/brought-to-the-future-and-loving-their-grand-babies hc that the opposite of that never occurred to me before it was suddenly on my dash

Let me tell you I have never been so distraught

[duhnova]

valley of broken dreams (and lilies) | lee jihoon

paring: producer!jihoon x daycare worker!fem!reader 

genre: angst, some fluff, more hurt than comfort (but there’s comfort i swear)

word count: ~3.8k

synopsis: you met jihoon when you were both young and dumb — a promise you two made to become big in the music industry laid shattered years later when you lost your ability to sing, and now you have to live in the shadow of your boyfriend while you struggle to come to terms with your broken dreams. 

warning(s): mention of food, mentions of illness/being sick/unknown disease, angst, some fluff, hurt comfort (kind of), let me know if i forgot anything! - don't mind grammatical errors/typos (me and @lovelyhan tried to catch them all, ily kai <3)

garden collab masterlist 

The rain splattered against your apartment window softly as you ate dinner alone, for the third night in a row. Your boyfriend's plate sat cold across from you in the dimly lit dining room as you pushed the food around on yours. 

Jihoon has been working non stop on music for the past few weeks, three different artists deciding they wanted to drop their albums within days of each other – leaving him to spend days on end in his studio. It was hard for you sometimes, to sit at home by yourself while he got to live out the dream the both of you had built together. 

Shortly after you two had graduated from high school you had fallen violently sick and the doctors were unable to figure out what was wrong. After months of antibiotics and surgeries to remove infected tissue, the disease seemed to go away but not without damaging your vocal cords beyond repair. The strain of singing was dwindling your ability to speak and so with much heartache you gave up your future as a singer, opting to go to university to become a school teacher instead. 

Jihoon, however never gave up his end of your dreams – not that you would ever ask him too but watching him grow big in the music industry made you feel like a shadow of your former self. No one knows your name and no one outside your inner circles ever will because of some twisted fate that left you broken. 

Becoming lost in your thoughts of what could’ve been you missed the way a tear slipped down your cheek, only noticing when a quiet sob shakes your body. You feel pathetic as you let your vision blur, the mantra of your broken dream ringing in your ears while your emotions flow out your eyes. 

The night continued to run silent as you put Jihoons untouched dinner in the fridge, saving it for later knowing he wouldn’t be home when you woke up. It was a vicious cycle you played. Every night you made enough dinner for the both of you only for him to spend the night in his studio and it would repeat until he showed up apologizing and promising to be home more for dinner only for him to break the promise a couple days later. 

But you never learned. 

“Y/N?” Jihoons tired voice called out into the silence of your shared apartment. It was Saturday so you should’ve been home at nine in the morning. Yet you were nowhere to be seen as he wandered around calling your name. 

Exhausted Jihoon doesn’t try too hard to figure out where you went as he goes to take a shower. He speculates that you’ve just gone to the store as he lets the warm water run over his aching muscles, all his stress washing away with the suds of his soap. 

While in the midst  of cleaning himself he starts to hum his newest work in progress. The soft melody echoed off the walls of the shower, completely drowning out the sound of you entering the apartment. 

“Jihoon?” You call out softly, excitement bubbling in your voice as you saw his shoes kicked haphazardly off to the side of the shoe rack you had set up the other night. You go to set the bag full of fresh produce on the counter while you grab a vase to put the bouquet of flowers you bought yourself in. 

You weren’t worried about the lack of response as you could hear the distant sound of the shower running, figuring he couldn’t hear you over the water. After a couple minutes of organizing the fridge you finally shrug your jacket off so you could wander deeper into the apartment. 

Freezing just outside the bathroom door you freeze, Jihoon’s soft voice was muffled by the door but you could make out his gentle singing. The song was soft and sweet, it reminded you of spring as you let his voice envelope you. 

No matter how long you’ve known each other you could never get over how beautiful his voice was and it pained you a little that he chose to hide it and stay behind the scenes. You got so lost in the song and the memories that you didn’t notice that the shower had turned off until a towel-clad Jihoon opened the bathroom door, yelping quietly. 

“Y/N!” He huffs quietly when his heart stops racing from being scared. “I didn’t hear you come… home..” His voice trailed off when your surprised, tear soaked eyes looked up at  him. “Are you ok?” He was gentle when he reached to wipe your tears. 

“Yeah.. That song..” He hummed quietly as he finished wiping off your tears. “It’s really pretty… Who’s it for?”

“Oh.. It’s for no one.” His hand falls from your face as his eyes flicker from yours to the wall behind you. “It’s just something I’ve been working on on my own.”

“Oh?” You tilt your head as you try to catch his eyes. “Maybe when you finish it you could play it for me one day.” One thing that Jihoon rarely does is invite you to his studio, and even though you two had a grand piano set up in the living room it hasn’t been touched in almost a year. A part of you knew it was because Jihoon didn’t like singing in front of you since you lost your ability to do so, but another part of you hoped that it was just because he was too busy or tired to do it. 

“Maybe..” He hums quietly, finally looking you in the eyes again. A pained smile graces his face when he notices the hopeful glimmer in your eyes, he knew if he stared too long he’d cave and sing it for you right then and there. Willing himself to gently push past you, your boyfriend makes his way to your guys’ room so  he could get dressed.

It was that awkward time of the year where summer was turning into fall and all the trees were dying while the air got chillier. You hated it. 

All the couples around you stood close together, basking in each other's warmth while you walked alone and cold. Jihoon was supposed to meet you an hour ago but you figured he got caught up with his work, like he always does. 

“Why am I even still here freezing my ass off?” You mumble to yourself as you glare at the fifth couple you’ve seen stop in front of where you were sitting so they could take a cute picture under the fairy lights that were set up in the trees that surrounded the little shopping district you were in. Just as you began to wallow a little too much in your self pity, your phone began to ring. 

“Hello?” You sounded a little bitter, not even bothering to check who it was that called you. 

“Ouch,” Seokmins' voice came through the other end of the phone. “You don’t sound too happy to hear my voice.” He laughs quietly when you curse and apologizes in a happier tone. 

“Sorry min, I didn’t realize it was you.” You pushed down all your sadness as you sat up a little straighter. 

“It’s ok,” He sounded tired but still chipper as ever. “What’s got you down sunshine?” Growing up with Jihoon you happened to befriend all of his friends, and Seokmin in particular became one of your closest friends as well and you two always fought over who was the real sunshine. 

“Nothing got me down,” You’ve always been a horrible liar and the scoff the Seokmin let out proved that to be true. “Fine.. Jihoon blew me off for work again.” You grumble bitterly. 

“See, now it makes sense why you answered the phone the way you did.” You could hear him moving around through the speaker. “Where are you right now?”

“I'm just outside loveity’s cafe, why?” 

“Well I called originally to see if my two best friends were free to have dinner tonight since I’m finally home from being overseas.”

“What!? You weren’t supposed to be home for another two weeks!”

“Surprise shawty.” He mumbles while laughing to himself, only to flinch when you yell out an exasperated call of his name. “Well the last two games got canceled due to the head coach landing himself in the hospital with a concussion so I decided to just come home while the rest of my team is spending their last weeks exploring.” 

“Well I’d love to have dinner with you min, but Jihoon hasn’t even answered my texts yet so I don’t know if that’ll happen tonight.” You sigh quietly.

“He didn’t answer my calls either, that's why I called you.”

“Oh gee thanks, glad to know I’m the second choice.” You joke before laughing at how dramatic his gasps sounded. 

“Well if you wanted, me and you could still go out. Ditch the workaholic and catch up since me and you haven’t seen each other since your birthday last year.”

“Has it really been that long?” 

“It has, I’ve been so busy transitioning into the big leagues I kind of forgot about everyone for a second.”

“As long as you don’t forget us forever.”

“I could never.” You could hear the smile in his voice and it was contagious. “So how about you stay right where you’re at and I’ll come meet you and we can do some catching up?” 

“Sounds good, however I will be inside Loveity’s when you get here because I’m pretty sure I can’t feel my toes anymore… I might even be missing one, I don't really know.” You both laugh as you stand up and stretch, the bench having made your back sore. 

“As long as it’s not the big one I’m sure you’ll live,” You shake your head as you head towards the entrance of the cafe. “I’ll see you in twenty though, ok?”

“See you in twenty.” You sigh constantly as you hang up the phone, the warmth of the cafe enveloping you as you go to order a hot chocolate while you wait.

“How many times do I have to say I’m sorry?” Jihoon followed you around the kitchen as you cooked silently. You had been giving him the silent treatment for the past thirty minutes or so since he walked through the door. “Y/N please, just look at me for two goddamn seconds!” 

That finally made your head snap in his direction, your eyes glassy as you fought with every ounce of your body to not start crying right then and there. You could feel the anger and tears shake through your body as Jihoon stood like a deer caught in headlights. 

“Do you even know what you’re apologizing for?” Your voice shook but it didn’t crack, much to your appreciation. 

“I- '' he swallowed the lump in his throat because he knows there's a million things he could be apologizing for but at that moment he doesn’t know exactly what he did wrong. 

“I constantly feel like a fool,” You mumble, you were never one to express when you felt things like this but it finally felt like you had enough. “I don’t even know if you're blowing our plans off because of work anymore.”

“What?” He sounded genuinely confused. 

“We were supposed to have lunch today, I even texted you to remind you because I knew if I didn’t you weren’t going to remember… But I guess that didn’t work anyways.” 

“You didn’t text me..” Jihoon pulled his phone out with a frown only to see in the midst of a million other notifications there was indeed a text from you at eleven a.m reminding him about your reservations. “Fuck..” He sighs quietly. 

“Normally I’d be fine with it but it's as if you were just blowing me off because of work but you went to have lunch with some other girl..”

“It’s not like that and you know that.” He took a step towards you but stopped when you turned back around to focus on the broth of your soup that was finally boiling.

“I do know that, but the media doesn’t.. To them famous Producer Lee Jihoon was spotted on a date with some stupid singer who they speculate he left his girlfriend for.” You very aggressively stirred the contents of your pot, only calming down when Jihoon gingerly wrapped his arms around your waist from behind. 

“It’s just a stupid rumor,” He mumbles as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “You know that, because obviously I didn’t leave you.. I’m just a dumbass.” He sighed as he squeezed your waist tighter. 

“I just…” You stop stirring as you slump back against his body a little. “I know music is your dream but.. I’m starting to feel like I don’t fit in with that dream anymore.” You whisper. 

‘What? Are you stupid?” You flinch when he pulls away, grabbing your shoulders so he can spin you around to face him. “This dream wouldn’t have even happened if it weren’t for you, I built everything I have because of you, so don’t even think that you don’t belong.” 

“This dream…” You swallow quietly. “This dream of ours, isn’t what it used to be… I can’t sing anymore Ji.” You watch the way he flinches, his eyes filling with sorrow and you want nothing more than to scream. You were sick and tired of the same battles that always ended with someone pitying or wallowing in what could’ve been. 

“This dream of ours can still work though.” He tried to reason as his fingers squeezed your shoulders tighter. 

“How!” You were getting fed up with the conversation already, the wound of the past ripped open enough. “The only way it can work is if I magically get my ability to sing back, but news flash Jihoon, we don’t live in some disney movie where the writers can just make us a happy fucking ending!”

“You just have to let me try!” His voice began to raise with yours, how it escalated so quickly was beyond you but the frustration was high in both of you. 

“Try? You won’t even sing your own songs out of fear of rejection from the music industry so how the hell are you supposed to ‘try’ Jihoon?”

“I don’t sing! You know this, it’s why you have always performed whatever I wrote!”

“You do sing though! I hear you in the bathroom or while you're working out! You can sing Ji, you’re just too scared too!”

“I’m not scared either! I’ve never been a singer though, it was always you.”

“Well I’m not a singer anymore and I will never become one again.. You have to give up that image of the past and move on.” 

“I’m not moving on from this dream or from you.” His voice still dripped with anger but it wasn’t as loud anymore. He didn’t even give you a second to respond before he was stepping backwards away from you and turning around to leave the kitchen. 

You stood there silently and listened to him walk down to what you assumed was your bedroom. You didn’t question him as you heard his keys jingle as he walked back down the hallway and haphazardly put his shoes on before aggressively opening and closing the door to your apartment. 

“Why’re you letting me hold back your dream.” You finally let a tear slip from your eyes as you turn back to your soup that you were pretty sure was burning a little bit.

“Look! Look!” Your niece aggressively shoved her crayon drawing in your face as you laughed quietly at the way she was describing the scene she made. “It’s you, Uncle Ji, and me at the park! And we had a duck.”

“A duck?” You smile adoringly, it wasn’t often you got to spend time with her as your sister lives out of town but you cherished the days she dropped her off while she ran errands in the area. 

“Yes, we found it.” She puts the drawing down to go back to coloring.

“Where did we find the duck?” You lean over to watch as she draws a little pond.

“At the pond silly!” She giggles and draws even more ducks in the water. 

“We can’t keep it forever though.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because it’s family will miss it, see.” She pointed at all the little baby ducklings. “It's the daddy with the babies.”

“Oh? We have the mommy duck then?”

“We do.” She nods as she stares intensely while she draws more flowers around the water. In the midst of her finishing her masterpiece your niece asks you a question that floors you. “Can we sing when I’m finished?”

“Sing?” You look at her wide eyed, she’s never heard you sing before.

“Yeah.. Mommy says you and uncle Ji used to sing all the time.”

“We did when we were younger, I’m not like I used to be.” You smile gently at her. 

“What does that mean?” She looks up at you curiously. 

“Well.. I got sick and so I don’t sing anymore.”

“Sick?” She tilts her head.

“It’s a long story my love,” You pat her head gently. “But I’ll tell you what. If you clean up everything we can sing one song and that's it, ok?” She nods her head quickly, and excitedly squeals, leaving her as she hurriedly cleans up her mess.

You have never seen a kid move so quickly before when it came to cleaning up. All your kids at the daycare would rather sing along with you as you sang the clean up song to get them to hopefully clean up faster. 

“Done!” She jumps in front of you after returning from putting the crayons back where they went. 

“You're eager aren’t you.” You smile as you stand up and lead her towards the giant white piano that sat in the corner of the room atop a raised platform. 

“Mommy says your voice is beautiful.”

“Well, hopefully she’s still right.” You sit down at the piano, a pit forming in your stomach as you brushed your fingers over the freshly cleaned keys. “What shall I sing?”

“The last song you sang.” You shake your head, the last song you technically sang was the wheels on the bus and that was for the kids at your work. “Favorite song?” You hum quietly as you think hard about what your favorite song is.

“I can do that.” You took a second to refresh your memory on how it went but once you hit the first key it was like a river flowing out of you. The words rang flawlessly, as if you hadn't quit singing like that years ago. 

The loudness of the piano mixed with the adrenaline running through your ears. You didn’t notice the front door open and Jihoon walked in. He stood frozen at the front door, staring at the way your niece looked at you with stars in her eyes as you sang just as beautifully as he remembered. He almost started crying because he hadn’t heard your voice in so long, and the warmth it brought him almost made him fall to his knees. When you finally finished the song his clapping startled you and your niece as she stopped mid clap to yell in surprise. 

“Ji!” You stand from the piano nervously, you weren’t supposed to be singing, the activity of straining your vocal cords. “You're home early.” You look at the clock to see it was only one in the afternoon.

“I finally finished the last album..” He took his backpack off and gently set it on the table by the front door before he's taking his shoes off to swap them for his house slippers as he sets them on the shoe rack. 

“Uncle Ji!” Your niece giggles as she finally runs up to him and jumps in his arms. He laughs quietly and spins her around, asking her about her day. You felt a small pang in your chest as you watched them interact with each other, the longing for a family hitting you full swing for the first time in months. 

“Y/N?” Jihoon mumbled worriedly, startling you out of your little daydream. He was standing right in front of you now, your niece having ran off to grab something you assumed. 

“Yes?” You whisper quietly, looking into his eyes before jerking to cough into your sleeve. “Sorry..”

“You’re not supposed to be singing like that..” His voice was filled with worry as he gently rested his hand on the side of your neck.

“I know, but it’s the first time I really sang in years and I couldn’t say no to her..” You give him a sheepish smile. “Besides, she’s never heard me sing before.” 

“I just don’t want you to ruin your voice for good..” He rests his forehead against yours, the urge to tell you he’d miss the way you said ‘I love you’ on the tip of his tongue but before he could say anything else your niece comes running back into the room with a build-a-bear that she had made to look like him.

“Uncle Ji look! It’s you!” She giggles as she forces her way between you too to show him the cat up close. Jihoon laughs quietly as he picks her back up to look at it more closely.

“This isn’t me!” He laughs louder when she clicks the paw so that a voice recording of him talking plays. “Ok maybe it’s close to being me.” 

Days like this made you realize that maybe this dream you built with Jihoon really was perfect in its own way. Even if you couldn’t sing like you used too, you still had each other and the necklaces that you wore signified that – the old lily of the valley flowers that hung from the chains were unique to their creator, the both of you having made them for one another back when you had made the promise to become big stars one day.

feedback + reblogs greatly appreciated!

[polutrope]

oooh holiday prompts! Can I ask for Maedhros & Maglor, and “singing carols” please? ❤️

Thank you for the prompt! Here we have ~1100 words of Maedhros saving the show -- a little canon fix-it, if you will. Handful of F-bombs, otherwise G-rated brotherly fluff. Posting these to AO3, here. Prompt list. Beleria Cast of Characters.

Maglor flung his hand under the tap and unleashed a string of curses entirely inappropriate for the greenroom of a children’s theatre school. Already blisters bubbled up on the tip of his index finger and the heel of his palm. There was a gash across his thumb joint from the broken ceramic.

Shit. He glared at the microwave as if it had personally injured him. What kind of shit-ass microwave only heats the bowl—! Why was it so damn hot!

“I swear, I could throw you out the fudging window right now,” he grumbled at the appliance.

“Hey, uh, Mr. Finvesen? Are you okay?”

Maglor startled. “What? Oh, hi, Galdor. Yeah yeah, I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine,” said Galdor with all the arch attitude of his thirteen years.

“I just burned myself a bit.” Maglor examined his blisters with trepidation.

“Why is there a shattered bowl and soup all over the floor?”

“Because that’s how I burned myself!” Maglor snapped, then took a deep breath.

“That doesn’t look like a microwavable bowl,” Galdor drawled.

Maglor grit his teeth and did not respond.

“Hey,” said Galdor, “how are you gonna accompany us for the concert if your hand is fucked up?”

“Galdor! Don’t swear!”

At that, Maglor’s eyes flooded with tears and he sank to the ground in front of the greenroom sink, cradling his bleeding, burning hand in his lap.

Galdor huffed and left him to his misery.

*

Relatives and friends filed into the small black box theatre at Lindon Studio. For all the effort that went into the children’s summer musical, it was the Yule concert that the kids’ families looked forward to most. The old metal folding chairs creaked as proud parents took their seats and boasted good-naturedly about their children’s many achievements that year.

Maglor stood in the entrance, greeting each group with forced enthusiasm and hoping no one would notice that his left hand was rammed in his pocket where it clutched an ice pack.

In the background, he listened anxiously to the garbled melodies Daeron was plunking out on the piano. It was not good. It was frankly embarrassing. Maglor had to implement Plan B.

But would he come?

There! Maglor nearly tripped as he wound a path through the press of bodies towards the head of red hair rising above them all.

“Oh thank god you're here,” Maglor said in a breathless rush.

“Whoa, hey. Of course I am,” said Maedhros, pulling him into a hug, which Maglor returned one-armed. His head fell against Maedhros’ shoulder with a pained choking sound.

“Uh, Cáno?” Maedhros pulled back to look at him. “Are you okay?”

“No, no. Not at all,” Maglor gritted through his teeth, aware of the crowd around them.

Maedhros guided him to a bench around the corner of the building.

“What’s going on?” he asked when they were seated. “Why do you have your hand shoved in your pocket like that?”

Maglor took a deep breath and pulled the hand and ice pack from his slacks. Then, eyes shamefully cast to the ground, he showed Maedhros the ruination wrought by his dinner plans.

“Yikes,” said Maedhros. “Still not using a rag to take things out of the microwave, then?”

“Shut up,” said Maglor.

“Sorry. Looks pretty bad.”

“It is bad. I’ve got to lead kids in a concert in twenty minutes and my hand is fucked! I can’t play piano!”

“Oh. Right, shit. What about Daeron?”

Maglor frowned and glared at Maedhros. He waited for the sound of Daeron’s playing inside the theatre to make itself heard.

“Is that him?” Maedhros asked, and grimaced. “I thought he was, like, super talented.”

“He is!” Maglor said, and stuck his throbbing blister in his mouth. “But he can’t read sheet music,” he said around the finger, “and barely knows his way around a piano. He taught himself by ear on a guitar, the fucking hipster prodigy.” He pulled his finger from his mouth and flapped it frantically in front of him. “That was mean. Don’t tell him I said that. Ugh! I’m just—!”

“It’s all right," Maedhros chuckled, "I know you like fucking hipster prodigies.” Maglor groaned. “Okay, so. Surely someone else who works here can play piano though?”

“No! Of course not! The admin is all actors who didn’t make it because they didn’t have these skills. Nelyo,” Maglor pivoted towards him, “you remember how to play, right?”

“Oh,” said Maedhros. “I mean, yeah, I guess, but…”

“Can you do it?” Maglor grabbed him by the shoulder and stared intently. “Please. Please, I am begging you. Save my dignity in front of these theatre moms.”

“I mean, I would, but…” Maedhros showed Maglor his right hand, which was wrapped in a tensor bandage. “The injury has been acting up. I’m down a hand, too.”

Maglor’s eyes dropped to his brother’s hand and back up. “Fuck.”

“Hey, hey,” said Maedhros. “No wait, I’ve got an idea.”

“Please,” said Maglor.

“Well you remember how we used to play duets, when I sucked too bad to do the bass and treble at once?”

Maglor smiled wryly at the memory. “Yeah, you were pretty terrible.”

“So we do that. People will love it.”

Maglor’s racing pulse started to even out. His eyes widened. “Nelyo. You genius. Agh!” He threw his arms around his brother’s shoulders. “I could cry. Again. You saved me.”

A discordant clang slipped through the theatre door. Maglor winced.

Maedhros patted Maglor’s back reassuringly. “Now let’s get your poor boyfriend off that piano bench ASAP.”

*

With his left hand resting on a fresh ice pack, Maglor lifted his right to the keys. Beside him, Maedhros did the same with his left. The house lights dimmed and voices dwindled to a hush. Maglor could sense the buzz of excitement from the choir of children huddled on the stage, holding their breath almost as a single being in their shared anticipation.

As the stage lights came up, slowly bathing the space in soft gold, Maglor looked at his brother beside him. Maedhros’ eyes smiled back.

“I might still suck,” he whispered out the corner of his mouth.

“Too late,” Maglor replied, and struck the first chord to cue the children: Jingle Bells was about to begin.

Maedhros did struggle a little, but Maglor barely noticed, overcome by the warm pride that welled up in his heart whenever he heard a chorus of young voices singing in harmony. Yes, he was terribly underpaid, and terribly overworked, and terribly stupid about handling hot objects —but he loved this job.

By the time they were singing Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree, Maedhros was mouthing the lyrics along with them. Soon after, he was merrily singing along to Wonderful Christmastime (“ding dong, ding dong, ding dong, ding!”) with such performative gusto that Maglor laughed so hard he fumbled his own part.

No one seemed to mind.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

YOU ARE SOMEBODY THAT I WANT TO KEEP ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; you aren't sure what you have with satoru gojo, but you know that it’s good.

word count; 6.7k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, colleagues to friends to something unlabelled, you love each other though!!, fluff, hurt/comfort, very very soft, reader falls first but gojo falls harder, both of u are afraid of intimacy lol, a lil angsty if u squint, satoru gojo cherishing u for ~7k words straight <33

a/n; basically just a collection of moments between you and gojo throughout the years <33 (a significant amount of time has passed between each part!!) hes an emotionally repressed loser but i love him and he is smitten w u.

in the soft luminescence of daybreak, your kitchen looks something like a dream.

tainted with a hazy sunshine, simmering with warm colours and pleasant scents, it almost seems to sparkle in the peripheral of your vision. brimming with that feeling of home, a home you’ve broken your bones building, desperate to shape it into something safe — and you think you’ve done a pretty good job.

it’s soothing, comforting, all of these sensations. bleeding into each other like smudges of paint on a canvas; hyacinths blooming by the windowsill, espresso-flavored steam wafting up to the roof, soft meows stemming from the cats by your feet. absolute bliss.

indulging in a peace yet to be shattered by the strain of the working world, you rub the sleep from beneath your weary eyes. blinking and yawning like a drowsy child.

beyond the translucent glass of your windows, glimmering with the light of a sun soon to rise, the world is painted pink and indigo — save for that one hint of gold, a streak of honey slathered across the surface of the sky. fluffy clouds drift through the chilly air, melting in the wake of a new day, and you think they look a little like tufts of cotton candy. soft enough to sink your teeth into, if only the glass wasn’t in the way. keeping the cold out.

it’s a new day. a pleasant morning, sitting comfortably on the brink of dawn, before the city has a chance to rouse from its slumber.

a kind of solitude you so rarely get to bask in. 

a false solitude, really. because, for once, there’s another human being in your home — one you don’t know nearly as well as you’d like, for him to be fast asleep on your couch, cheek smushed against the leather. snoring softly. 

satoru gojo.

like this, he looks very… human. vulnerable. hair just slightly tousled, from tossing and turning on your not-so-comfortable couch, blindfold only covering one of his eyes and close to slipping off entirely. his expression has melted into one of something vaguely resembling relaxation, as close to unguarded as you assume he can physically get.

even in his sleep, he looks a little stiff. not entirely at peace; like a stray cat sleeping under the hood of a car. 

(you’re curious. fascinated, maybe, by the loneliness that clings to the strongest person in the universe. by the paradoxical innocence of his grin.)

honestly, everything from last night is kind of a blur. you remember accompanying the strongest sorcerer on a mission, one long enough to leave you completely and utterly spent, fatigue nestled deep into your bones. remember gojo getting a sudden migraine, so earth-shattering that you thought he was going to keel over and throw up in the middle of the street.

then you remember bringing him back home with you. very hesitantly, only after he begrudgingly accepted the fact that he didn’t have much of a choice. because you were fucking exhausted, and so was he, and your apartment happened to be conveniently close. you remember him practically passing out on your couch, still somehow managing to crack a bad joke you can’t recall, while you went to collapse into the comfort of your bed.

and now you’re here. dyed in half-transparent sunbeams, caffeine bubbling in your veins, gazing at your sleeping coworker from your spot by the kitchen table. waiting for the world to open its weary eyes.

it’s still early. some part of you expects him to sleep a while longer, but you can’t say you’re particularly surprised when gojo begins to stir.

a splotch of sunshine splatters across your living room window, staining the floorboards, falling over the contours of his pretty face. in the light, he looks positively holy; white lashes, pale skin, plump lips. like a goddess.

when he opens his eyes, it’s even worse. a single iris cracked open, pooling with unbridled brilliance. eyes so blue they seem to cut through the stillness of the air.

(— and the world wakes up.)

a little groan slips from his lips, barely audible. with groggy movements, he brings a hand up to his face, obscuring the grating light of the sun flitting in. you think you can almost see the gears of his mind turn, as he takes notice of his surroundings, remembering what transpired just hours before.

faster than you thought, he regains some semblance of composure. huffing under his breath, as he forces himself into a sitting position. 

it feels a little wrong, to see the closest thing this world has to a god act so human. be so human. morning-fatigued, just like you, wearing droopy eyelids and a soft, sleepy pout. a little disheveled. groggy with lost dreams.

when his gaze meets yours, you can’t control the breath that hitches pitifully in the back of your throat. a meek skip of your heartbeat, like you just saw something you shouldn’t have. oops.

gojo cracks a grin.

“.. watchin’ me sleep?” he calls out, cheeky. paired with a drowsy yawn. composed, unbothered, but there’s something almost performative about it, something you’re sure you’d miss if he wasn’t still in the process of collecting himself. 

“good morning,” is all you offer him. ignoring his teasing remark. he doesn’t push it, to your surprise. “sleep well?”

a hum. absentminded, jovial. one of his large hands goes to adjust his blindfold, the other to fluff up his hair. kicking off the blanket you just barely had the energy to throw over him last night. your fluffiest one, warm enough to protect him from the chill gnawing at the windows. hopefully.

“like a log,” he quips, stretching idly, muscles straining under his baggy uniform. they must be sore, after that mission. or maybe he’s above such things.

choosing not to comment on his obvious lie, you put your lips against the ceramic of your cup. sipping from the bitter brew, a tinge of hazelnut on your tongue. letting him gather his bearings without you scrutinizing him. a little favor, one liar to another.

“thanks for letting me crash,” he grins, lazy. toothy. stumbling to his feet with a low groan, gaze flitting around the room — looking for the exit. “i’ll get outta your hair,” he mutters, and you raise a brow.

“not staying for breakfast?”

gojo stills. your question rings out, bouncing off the walls of the kitchen, into the living room.

his smile twitches, ever so slightly, in what you think must be surprise. then it’s back to normal; like putting on a mask, not allowing a sliver of weakness to slip through the cracks. he exhales a raspy chuckle, a sound that flows through the air and crawls down your spine.

”generous, aren’t you?” he hums, voice rich with amusement. dappling sunlight licking at the white locks of his hair.

you shrug. “i wouldn’t mind the company.”

the words climb up the walls of your throat, a little reckless, eager to catch a glimpse of the miracle before you. satoru gojo, framed by the simplicity of your home — somewhat hard to let go of. sunkissed skin, restless hands. a little out of tune. shifting from foot to foot, eager to get away.

(a little like a frightened fawn, you amuse yourself by thinking. he’s really more like the fox who scared it.)

you think he must be bit uncomfortable. forced to spend the night in a coworker’s apartment, one he doesn't even know that well, one he probably doesn’t have any intention of getting to know. still trying to politely excuse himself. persistent, stubborn.

maybe he didn’t expect this. maybe he was convinced he could sneak away, before you had a chance to wake up. maybe he thought you’d be all too eager to let him leave, and never speak of this again. maybe he’s not used to being wanted. 

“ha… i’m flattered, believe me, but —“

“what do you usually eat?” you ask. cutting him off, gently, tapping your fingertips against the edge of the table. “for breakfast, i mean. i’ll whip something up.”

a chuckle slips from his lips. you can’t put your finger on it, but something about it bothers you. “really, there’s —“

“if you’re worried about inconveniencing me, don’t be.” you pause, unsure of what to say. but the words end up spilling out of your throat, oddly honest. ”it’s been a while since i had the chance to make breakfast for someone else.” 

it’s strange, really, how intent you are on seeing this through. how much effort you’re putting into making him stay. you barely even know him. actually, you don’t know him at all — all you know is that his smile makes you happy and his strength makes you envious. that you aren’t afraid of him, even though you probably should be.

something about him just feels safe.

“i’m pretty good at making pancakes,” you hum, a small smile playing at your lips. polite, jovial. pale light flits in through the window and slips into its curve. ”do you want some? before we go to work.”

(something in his fingers twitch, when you say that tiny word; pancakes. a little tell. you just barely catch it, before it sputters out. before he reels it back in.)

a moment passes. slow, drawn out, a rubber band bound to snap.

gojo stands there, a very subtle contemplation etched into his features. behind him, your cats begin to scratch at the couch, but you don’t scold them. just waiting for something to happen. beyond the glass of your windows, the sun unfurls in the sky, stretching its arms to envelop the world.

he grins, suddenly. soft light reflecting off the white of his teeth. cocky, composed, not quite performative — just a little more natural.

“well, if you insist.”

he strolls over to your side, just a tiny bit sluggish, lazy steps and comically long limbs. he must still be tired. but he takes a seat, right across from you, plopping down on the chair with an effortless air of confidence. lighthearted, leaning his elbows on the table, crossing his legs under it. comfortable. settling into his role.

you’re pleasantly surprised.

“how would you like them?” you ask, and you think some of your excitement may have spilled out with the question. if it did, gojo doesn’t comment on it. ”your pancakes.”

“with chocolate chips, please!” he shoots you a sweet smile. “and whipped cream on top.” 

so demanding. for some reason, it makes the corners of your lips quirk up. kinda like a bratty younger brother.

“got it.”

the smell of dark chocolate hangs heavy in the air as you get to work, shuffling around the open space. all while gojo waits, patiently, tapping his foot under the table and staring out the window. leaning his jaw on the heel of his palm. listening to the humming of nightingales on the branches of the apple tree down on the ground, and the buzz of your old radio.

the kitchen fills with motion, sounds, smells. life. splotches of sunlight, crinkled cartons of orange juice. the clinking of plates. two tired adults, seated at the same table, indulging in a fleeting peace and the promise of something new. something almost concrete.

a small, precious moment. enough to make your fascination shift into something you know must be fondness. or close to it. 

gojo grins at you, mouth full of pancakes, eagerly telling you about something the kids did last week. wolfing them down, chocolate smeared over his bottom lip. you laugh, and suddenly the world feels a little safer than it should. a little more intact.

you wonder what it means. where it’s going to lead. this feeling of something wonderful beginning, something you couldn’t stop if you wanted to.

a budding connection.

the city lays blanketed beneath a layer of thick snow. blurry pale dots dancing in the wind, obscuring the sky, frost engulfing every building in a bone chilling hug.

with a slight shiver, you dig your hands into the comfort of your pockets, seeking the fleeting warmth you find. admiring the frozen landscape before you, the hustle and bustle of people going about their day. the saffron light of the lamp posts, the glittering snow by your feet, the skeletal apricot trees and their bare branches. this monochrome city you find yourself in.

gojo exhales. strolling cheerily down the street, in tandem with you, a frosty breath to your left that scatters and melts into the open air. it smells minty.

today, he’s wearing black shades — like he usually is when you meet outside of work. it’s kind of nice. when you angle your face a certain way, you can almost see the blue pooling in his eyes, the white of his eyelashes. 

he’s beautiful. he always has been. but like this, you think his beauty is simply unfair, highlighted by the winter wonderland you find yourselves in. mesmerizing, the red flush of his cheeks, how he hums along to some jolly tune playing from a little corner store further down the street. all bundled up, in a stylish overcoat and a nice scarf, untouched by the snowflakes fluttering about. 

protected by his infinity, always. the silly god you call a friend.

he looks content, despite the cold that keeps nipping at your bare skin, smiling widely. blabbing on about the movie you’re about to watch, how he saw it back in high school but never thought it’d get a remake. how his friend thought it sucked but that friend always had bad taste so his opinion is irrelevant. how he has faith that you’ll like it.

(cute.)

distracted by the pretty man so close by, close enough to touch, you don’t look ahead. maybe just a little bit entranced. which would be fine, if you didn’t happen to be walking on the right side of the street — 

crashing straight into a lamp post.

”owch!”

it’s sudden. and it’s a harsh collision, enough to leave your nose stinging, an ache that makes you whine. cursing under your breath as you take a couple steps back, hands reaching for the part of your face that took the brunt of the hit. 

and gosh, is this embarrassing. you dance on the edge of death for a living, and here you are — whining over walking into a fucking lamp post. because you were too enamored by the beauty of your own coworker to pay attention to your surroundings. 

a coworker who is currently looking at you, silently. having failed to warn you in time, stuck in his own memories, caught up in his in-depth, spoiler-filled review of a movie he’s been waiting to watch all week. 

for a moment, all he does is blink. long eyelashes fluttering, like a dove flapping its wings. 

then he starts laughing.

scratch that — gojo is downright cackling, thoroughly amused by your clumsy mishap, like he just saw the funniest thing in the world. laughter ringing out into the cold air, white breaths to compliment the red of your burning ears.

asshole.

with a harsh furrow of your brows, you attempt to look angry; but before long, your lips are curling up. infected by his joy. a soft punch to his shoulder is all you manage, biting back a little puff of laughter. you’re embarrassed.

(so embarrassed you don’t even notice how he puts his infinity down.)

”don’t laugh, you piece of shit!” you hiss, grinning even still, flushing and trying to ignore the curious glances you get from passersby. ”it really hurt!”

but gojo doesn’t stop. doesn’t even attempt to. you think he just grew even more amused, if anything, practically bending over from how hard he’s laughing — clutching his stomach.

”sorry, sorry — ’m just…” he tries to speak, taking deep breaths in between bursts of giggles. ”how the hell — how’d you —” 

he stops trying. laughing, again.

and it’s a genuine laugh. a little wolfish, spilling out from his pretty parted lips, showing off his sharp teeth. from the very bottom of his gut, clear and bright, deep and infectious. melodic. shades close to slipping off the bridge of his nose, eyes tearing up behind them. trying to collect himself, muffled giggles turning to soft vapour in the cold air. dimples visible on his rosy cheeks.

and suddenly you can't think, can't speak, can only look at him and wonder how a human can be so very beautiful. how it’s metaphysically possible. like a crushed cluster of stars was given human form, a body of celestial light.

he looks so young, like this. a millenia younger, no weight on those broad shoulders, no immovable wall to separate you both. he looks like one of the guys you used to hang out with in middle school, running through corridors and play fighting and holding back shared laughter in the library. before the bite of the world left a mark in your skin.

he looks like himself. like someone pulled the mask off, and all that’s left is the human. none of the godhood he was saddled with at birth.

while you’re busy staring, gojo finally finds his composure again. wiping at his glassy eyes, a chuckle slipping out here and there. distracted by the breathtaking sight, you begin to forget the sting of your collision — until you feel something warm trickle down your chilled skin. 

searching for it with the pads of your fingers, you feel a trail of wetness beneath your nose. and when you bring them down, to get a look, all you see is red. 

”ah.”

gojo moves closer. maybe just a little alarmed, by the blood dripping from your nose, staining the white of the snow beneath your feet. a chilling contrast, one you’re frighteningly used to. it’s almost comforting. blood on your skin, that sting of pain clogging up your nose, enough for you to get lost in. colours melting together, memories rising to the surface —

when suddenly, something touches your cheek. 

one large hand goes to keep your jaw in place, gentle. smooth leather, sneaking under your chin, lifting your face up ever so slightly. warmth trickles from his fingertips through the fabric, and you can smell a hint of his perfume. strawberries and vanilla.

gojo looks at you fondly. wiping the blood from your nose, smudging his expensive gloves. from this angle, you can see his eyes, a blue shimmer in an evening painted white and gray — the sole flicker of colour in this monochrome city. they’re crinkled at the edges.

he looks awfully amused.

(you stay still, not breathing, like any slight motion could have him pulling away.)

”careful,” he croons. so low you barely hear it, almost a purr. the word has a soft underbelly, something you don’t need to dissect to feel.

a sentiment that seems to simmer in the air around you, drifting past the little corner store, a dog tied to a lamp post, your reddened cheeks. past the blue of his eyes, a peripheral that stretches to cover the city before you. words too heavy to speak aloud.

stay safe for me, silly.

then he’s letting go. sudden, the bite of the air replacing his hand. it lingers on your skin, like a memory, like the ghost of a memory. but it’s there. strawberries and vanilla, leather and warmth. something kind. warm.

and it stays there, even as gojo takes a step forward, no longer facing you. walking confidently, the wind bending around his tall stature. long legs and large steps, leaving an imprint in the snow for you to follow. a northern star.

he turns his head, and grins. hair tousled by the breeze, white locks glittering with snowflakes. ”you coming? it’s starting soon.”

a moment passes. 

”or do you need me to call shoko?” 

you puff out a breathy laugh, at that, stumbling forward. reaching up to wipe more of the blood sticking to your skin. sniffling, but smiling, teeth peeking out between your lips.

”yeah, yeah,” a roll of your eyes. ”’m right behind you.”

gojo’s eyes crinkle, disappearing behind his shades when he straightens his back and raises his head. moving forward, while you follow; his back turned to you, snowy hair melting into the white all around you. like something out of a painting. 

with a pep in step, you catch up to him. eager to hear more of his voice, his memories. still basking in the warmth of his hand on your jaw.

a touch from the untouchable.

gojo’s lying on your couch.

he usually is, to be fair, so it shouldn’t be surprising. kicking his legs up, watching tv — or sleeping, snoring loudly, like the couch belongs to him. like your home belongs to him. like he pays rent, and doesn’t just laze around and devour all the sweets in your kitchen cabinets.

(he’s there so often that you’re starting to wonder if you should give him a copy of your keys, or something. but you have a feeling that’d be just a smidge too intimate for him to ever accept.)

this time, however, gojo is doing neither of those things. 

he’s on your couch, but he isn’t manspreading, or draping himself over the leather with a lazy grin. he doesn’t have that air of effortless confidence. and it’s palpable, in the air, the open space, enough that you can feel it. an itch on your skin, a lump in your throat. you could practically feel it as soon as you walked through the door.

he isn’t wearing his blindfold, or his shades. he isn’t even smiling. and gojo is always, always smiling.

you think he might be having a rough day.

even the cats are noticing that something’s off. jumping up in his lap, trying to comfort him, brushing against his legs. purring, when he cradles them close — always so gentle with them. hands petting down their backs, softly, the same hands he uses to rip out the throats of curses and curse users alike.

then they mewl and run away. and for once you wish they wouldn’t, wish they could keep clinging to him like they always do. just to make him feel better. right now, in the state he’s in, you wouldn’t even mind gojo’s usual smug declarations of how does it feel to know they like their papa best? 

you can’t help but feel unsure of yourself. gojo isn’t doing anything, and he isn’t saying anything. he’s just lying there, on his back, eyes closed. letting the darkness of the room engulf him. drowning in his own thoughts.

he must know that you’re there. he must have heard you come in. but he isn’t saying anything, and you wonder if that means he wants you to leave him alone.

you’re reminded of that one morning. when he woke up on your couch, and looked more human than you’d ever seen him. how you wanted to avert your eyes, how wrong it felt to see a god rouse from its slumber. 

(but you know better now.)

hesitantly, you begin to inch closer, step by step. quiet, floorboards barely creaking beneath your weight. tentative, as you settle down on the couch. brushing against the infinity between you.

gojo’s eyes flicker open. like an old tape beginning to play. they still shine with that same brilliance, they always do, but now you think they look just a little dull. a little red.

a moment passes. agonizingly slow.

before you can properly think it through, you’ve done it. almost on instinct, jumping the gun before he has the chance to cover everything up with jokes and laughter. opening your arms; a silent invitation.

gojo only stares. 

his gaze moves down to your outstretched arms, and then up to your face. your pursed lips, nervous eyes, worried crease between your brows. one second passes. two, five. you stop counting.

for a moment, you’re almost certain that he’s about to get up and leave. that he’ll flash you a smile that doesn't reach his eyes, walk out the door and then never return. like you flew too close to the sun, just another icarus too mesmerized by the glow of his grin to notice your melting wings. like you stepped over the fragile line that separates his bones from yours, his heartbeat from your greedy hands.

— but then he sluggishly gets into a sitting position, and doesn't look at you.

when gojo collapses into your embrace, you’re so surprised that you almost forget how to breathe. almost forget your own name, forget whose home you’re in, why your arms are wrapped around a pale man. all you can think of is how warm he feels, how he’s like a weighted blanket against you. how he trusts you enough to come so very close. 

cheek pressed against your chest, arms loose around your waist. no infinity, no barriers. just a single touch shared between two damaged human beings. 

a brief inhale gives you the composure that you need. air flowing into your lungs, your brain, as you settle into a comfortable position. no words leave your lips; you just continue to hold him, one hand on his back, testing the waters. letting him hear the echo of your heartbeat. unsure, the both of you, but something about this feels right. close to right. almost there.

gojo is stiff. when you strain your ears, you hear a sharp intake of breath, and a full body shiver courses through him. a tremble of his spine. like he’s itching to run, like he doesn’t quite know where to put his hands. so painfully unused to a proper embrace. 

(a little like a frightened fawn.)

a tender something unfurls within your chest, and you feel almost devoured by the fondness rooting itself into your beating heart. delicate, as you begin to brush away his tousled bangs, leaning close. pressing a kiss to his forehead, glistening with sweat. letting your lips linger on his skin. 

he’s pale, shining in the bleak moonlight cast from the translucent curtains of your living room windows. pale like a ghost. and there are dark crescents beneath his dull eyes.

nightmares, you surmise. they haunt him too, don’t they? of course they do. 

eyes brimming with emotion, you gaze at him; quiet as a mouse, closing his eyes. leaning into your touch, ever so slightly, breathing out a sigh tinged with pure exhaustion. and a certain realization washes over you, akin to a tidal wave, sudden and inevitable. so obvious it’s funny.

you’re not a god at all, are you? 

a coo slips from your lips. barely a sound, more like a soothing breath. warm against his cold skin.

you’re just like everyone else. just as fragile.

one of your thumbs goes to smooth over the puffy skin beneath his eyes. so, so gentle. like one wrong touch could have him crumbling into little grains of stardust, spilling out over the worn leather of your couch.

there are so many things you wish you could say to him. so many things you’ll never be able to say, because you’re afraid that if you give him too much it’ll scare him off. like love could burn him if it were to leak out too fervently. like it’s burned him before. 

so you don’t say anything. but you think it, you repeat it inside your mind like a prayer, and some part of you thinks that’s enough. i’ve got you — a whisper that you don't dare to voice. 

one gojo still manages to hear, somehow, if the way he tugs you closer and snuggles into your neck is anything to go by. a shaky exhale brushing against your collarbone.

(if you feel something wet touch the skin of your shoulder, you don’t mention it.)

you simply hold him, and don’t even think the thought of letting go. even though it takes him hours just to fall asleep, hours you spend anxiously wondering if he’ll change his mind and pull away. but he doesn't leave, even though his body may want him to, and that's enough, and you don’t let go. not even once. he stays cradled to your chest the same way you’d hold a tiny puppy, something fragile. something you need to handle with care.

and when his heartbeat finally mellows out, when you hear little barely audible snores flow from his lips, you finally begin to relax. melting into the couch beneath you, watching him get the rest he deserves. praying that any nightmares of his will be given to you instead.

sleep comes, eventually, to the both of you. tangled up on the couch, him on top of you, comforted by the flutter of each other’s heartbeat. by the warmth of another human being. safe in each other’s arms.

(the next morning, through hazy sunshine and the clinking of coffee cups, he teasingly tells you that just satoru is fine.)

it’s barely daybreak when satoru wakes you up.

a rude awakening, to say the least. he pulls out all the stops, intent on not letting you sleep even a second longer; poking at your cheek, pinching them when that doesn’t work. tickling you, blowing cold air into your ear, flopping down on top of you like a big dog. anything to rouse you from your deep slumber.

and he just will not give it up. no matter how hard you try to ignore him, no matter how many times you swat him away with your duvet pillow or turn to bury your face into the sheets. that’s how satoru always is, how he’s always been, how he hopefully always will be — an absolute pain. one you wouldn’t trade for anything else in the world.

so, when he starts whining for you to just wake up already, voice tinged with a sadness that tugs at your heartstrings, you find yourself opening your tired eyes. all while he murmurs on and on about something unintelligible, still trying to bribe you.

”i’ll make you coffee, okay? just get up. c’moooon.”

”… what time is it, satoru?” is all you mutter, voice leaving your lips in a raspy, disgruntled fashion. stirring a little at the promise of coffee. 

he cracks a grin. ”don’t worry about it! just come with me.”

despite your grumpy attitude, and the ungodly hour at which satoru shakes you awake, you find yourself letting him scoop you up and set you down on the kitchen counter. placing a hot cup of coffee in your hands, made just the way you like it, before grinning mischievously in a way that has you feeling ill at ease.

and ten minutes later, you find yourself on top of a hill. overlooking the woods, and a big lake below you, no city lights visible no matter where you turn — god knows where he’s taken you, but it’s pretty.

breathtaking, even. all frost and wildlife and peace, sweet solitude, tiny flowers blooming on the patches of grass around you. a murder of crows takes flight in the distance, scattering into the indigo of the sky.

gojo grins, boyish and bright, excited breaths turning into vapour as he speaks. awfully proud of himself. 

”i can’t take you on vacation, but —”

he drags you with him, arm looped around your own, plopping down on the ground. not before taking off his jacket, to cover the ground beneath you. grass tickles the skin of your palms, as you comfortably spread your legs, making sure to sit as close to him as possible.

and your heart softens a little.

because he’s mentioned it, before; how it’d be nice to go on a road trip, someday, just the two of you. all around the world, wherever the wind takes you. basking in that feeling of freedom. it’s no more than a fever dream, though, with how busy satoru is, the responsibilities you both shoulder.

so this’ll have to do. that’s probably what he’s thinking.

”the sun’ll rise soon. it’ll be pretty, i promise,” he beams, so close that you feel his warm breath on your skin. that you can see the dimples on his cheeks, his barely visible freckles.

”oh, so that’s why you woke me up so early.” 

his smile widens. ”nice, right? i wanted to surprise you. d’you like it?”

a smile blooms on your lips, in tandem with his, honeyed and content. indulgent. gojo looks at it, and immediately knows your answer.

”yeah. it’s really pretty out here,” you face forward, taking a deep breath, fresh morning air entering your lungs. cool and crisp, stirring your sleepy mind. ”kinda nostalgic.”

satoru hums, and follows your lead. looking ahead, admiring the beauty of an empty world.

the big lake looks like a mirror, from here, glittering in the peripheral of your vision. the sun licks at the frozen sky, not quite breaking through, not entirely ready to rise — but it paints everything a rusty gold and you can almost feel spring shining through, taste it on your tongue, that promise of something better, something more concrete. a warmth you don’t have to question. 

a warmth that’ll stay with you for a long time to come.

it takes about ten seconds for the man by your side to start speaking, again, shattering the peaceful silence. but you don’t mind. his voice is nice, a mellow melody to your morning-fatigued brain.

side by side, you wait for the sun to rise. sharing hushed whispers and laughter, like two kids having a sleepover. like nothing exists but the space that cocoons you, wraps you up in a nostalgia so palpable the entire world feels like a fond memory.

(it makes you feel a millenia younger.)

satoru giggles like a child, telling you about something shoko said, or something megumi did, and you don’t miss a single word that spills from his glossy lips. hanging on to every word he’s willing to give to you. 

he looks so unbothered, like this. eyes crinkling, humming some tune you don’t recognize, like a little nightingale ready to take flight into the skies.

you part your lips, admiring his features. every patch of skin you can see. words making themselves manifest, hungry to see inside his brain, to know more about him. a fascination that’s never quite left you — though now you think it may be better described as love. ”hey, satoru?”

at the sound of his name, he turns to you. the weight of his eyes feels so light, like this. those blessed eyes staring into yours. he tilts his head, a smile playing at his lips. ”mm?”

”if you could go anywhere you wanted, where would you be right now?”

satoru blinks.

he looks at you, a mild surprise flitting through the lines of his face, as he takes you in. measures the weight of your words.

then he smiles, again. lopsided, almost a smirk, rich with amusement. a hum buzzes in his throat, like a butterfly itching to break out.

”.. you teasing me?” 

a huff fills the air. ”it’s a genuine question!” you insist, moving your leg to nudge his own. ”c’mon. anywhere in the world. i’m just curious.”

another hum. he narrows his eyes, playfully, biting at the inside of his cheek to hold back a chuckle when that makes you grumble. pouting softly, tilting your head. he’s amused, you can tell. 

but he closes his eyes, lashes fluttering, glimmering with morning dew. and you can tell he’s taking you seriously. tasting the question on his tongue.

something shines in his eyes, when he opens them again; crinkling at the corners, soft lines of crows’ feet. you can almost see that burst of aquamarine, breaking through the black glass of his shades. like the laws of physics can’t contain it. and he smiles, as always, a smile so beautiful you wish you could live on the curve of his lips. flimsy, no teeth peeking out, no dimples to admire. but sweet. slathered with honey, as sincere as can be.

his voice comes out a little raspy, tainted with a tinge of fatigue, a smokey residue that sticks to the walls of his throat. but it's genuine, like he just woke up, like he's too sleepy to be dishonest. like every word he says can be no more or less than the absolute truth.

and when he turns to face you, tilting his head enough for you to see that shade of blue you love so dearly, his eyes shine with an honestly so palpable you feel like you’re being devoured.

satoru parts his lips.

”right next to you.”

a moment passes. silent, endless, no sound to be heard but the beating of your own heart.

at last, the sun breaks through that layer of frost, peeking up from the boundary of the world — and the morning begins to thaw. streaks of sunlight cascade down the contours of his handsome face, painting him a mellow gold, and it’s almost enough to distract you from the warmth of his hand finding yours. 

for a moment, satoru looks unsure. smile shifting in the light, into something slightly stiff, and you know that means he's nervous. silent, as he wets his glossy lips. pink tongue tasting strawberry chapstick. 

then he’s leaning forward. 

it’s chaste, the kiss he plants on your forehead, soft as the flutter of a butterfly’s wings. but it lingers, even after he’s pulled back — a warmth on your skin. a silent declaration.

he doesn't have to say anything. when you look up at him you can see the red flush of his ears, and when you strain your ears you can hear all those unspoken whispers. the sentiment neither of you will ever have to say out loud, because you know. it’s there. and it means everything. 

and you know that for as long as you live, you’ll both have this. one single thread of normalcy, in your unorthodox existences, one single glimmer of something almost entirely good. something that heals, something that isn’t a blessing and a curse all in one. something soft to the touch.

there’s no need to find the right words for it. there never was.

”kinda looks like melted ice cream.”

the words pull you out of your stupor. satoru’s looking at the sky, and you follow his gaze, watching the sunrise in tandem with him. 

it’s beautiful. soft clouds melting into pinks and oranges, dappling sunbeams lapping at the trees, a saffron shade washing over the empty world in front of you. a world that may not be so empty, after all, because you hear crows in the distance, and someone’s fishing by the lake, and you think you spot a squirrel in the tree closest to you. 

and you have someone, right next to you, right by your side. someone who won’t ever leave.

sometimes, loving satoru gojo feels a little like strolling on the edge of a cliff. like one wrong step could have you tumbling down, a mess of broken bones and unspoken words. but if you do stumble and fall — you know he’ll be waiting at the bottom of the precipice. arms outstretched, wearing that same innocent grin, ready to hoist you both back up.

so you know it’ll be fine.

swallowing down a bout of fresh laughter, like a flower unfurling in your chest, petals brushing against your ribcage, you give in. opting to bask in the moment, in his presence.

”yeah,” you puff out a chuckle, head slumping against satoru’s shoulder. he makes a little noise of approval, and your grin grows. ”it does.”

he doesn’t say anything. smiling, wordlessly, admiring the way the sun kisses up your collarbone. lighting up your face. and you bask in his warmth, how right it feels to be tucked into his side. how safe he feels, even now. how safe you make him feel.

you look at the man to your left, and he looks back at you, and that wonderful unnamed something unfurls inside your chest again. and, without having to speak it aloud, you know it will continue to do so.

many, many years later, he’ll still be satoru, and you’ll still be you. the distance between you will be what it always was; breachable.

and that will be enough.

[aerynwrites]

When The Dust Settles || Jayvik

Jayce x Viktor

A/N: This takes place just after the ending of epsiode 9 in the aftermath of the rocket hitting the council chamber. Some angst followed by sweet hurt comfort. This is my first time writing a ship fic so I really hope you all enjoy! I would love to hear what you all think! also huge thanks to @thedreamlessnights​ for listening to me rant and rave about Jayvik xD

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: canon-typical violence, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, the divorce era doesn’t exist in my house, they will be happy forever if I have a say so.

Jayce has never believed in the silly tales people tell about death. Never accepted the idea that life flashes before your eyes when death is imminent or that times appear to slow down as one's doom approaches. 

But the image of that rocket, that blue haze in the otherwise blood-red sky… does make time slow for Jayce. Suddenly he's thrown back in time as the window of the council chamber shatters into a million tiny pieces. 

He remembers the night he almost took his life, remembers the golden eyes of the man who saved him and has stayed by his side ever since. He remembers the sting of glass cutting his cheeks as his theory finally came to fruition in the darkened room of the Academy. Blue light explodes around them as two bodies are launched into the air. 

But it's different now. Time slows just enough for him to glance at his partner; brown irises meet amber ones before he's falling. They're both airborne again like that time all those years ago, but this time the ground rushes up to meet them. Then everything is dark…dark and quiet and still.

Until it isn't.

Screams and blasting horns ring in his ears as his eyes try to peel open. They are far off; at least they feel that way. But they are loud enough to push past the ringing in his ears and the pounding in his head. He tries to take a breath, but dust coats his tongue, and a sharp pain in his side rips a cry from his throat. 

He should be worried about himself, the apparent broken rib, the pounding in his head, and his swimming vision. But only one word runs through his mind. One name. The only person that matters. 

"Viktor…" his voice is weak, barely even a whimper as the words get caught in his dust-coated throat. 

Viktor. Viktor. Viktor. Where is he? 

There. He's there. Jayce sees him as he forces himself into his side, swallowing the groan that bubbles in his chest as he does so.

Oh, gods… he's so still. Why is he so still? Is he…? No. He can't be. 

The screams are still there; he can see other bodies on the floor. Can hear them moaning in pain or crying out for one another. But he can't find it in him to care. He just needs…he needs to get to Viktor. Now. 

He practically pulls himself across the floor, acutely aware of searing pain in one of his legs. His fingers dig into the cracked ground, slipping against the rubble and dust that covers it in layers. He's closer now, and he nearly cries out when he sees the slow rise and fall of Viktor's chest. 

"Viktor!" He calls out again, trying to stir him to consciousness, wanting nothing more than to hear his voice. "Wake up, Viktor-"He calls out to the man he loves, now within reach to lay panicked hands on his arm. 

Jayce finally looks up from him, sheer panic and dread fueling his motivations. He needs someone, anyone, to help him. They need medical attention; they need help from someone - anyone. 

But no one is coming. Not now, at least. The far wall of the council chamber is gone, obliterated by whatever was fired at them. A sizeable hole has opened up in the floor where the council typically sits, and Jayce swallows hard, trying not to think of who the gaping maw swallowed up. Jayce turns back to Viktor, his panic quelled only because his chest still moved up and down. 

He scoots closer, gritting his teeth against the pain in his leg as he manages to move into a sitting position, resting against a chunk of rubble that just missed him and Viktor. 

He places shaking hands beneath Viktor's arms, pulling him as gently as possible until he's cradled in Jayce's arms. He's heavy, completely dead weight as Jayce holds him closer, eyes flicking over his form to try and take stock of any injuries he has. 

Jayce immediately notices the sickening wet matte of chestnut hair on Viktor's temple. Crimson streaks down his face, leaving tracks in the dust coating his skin. 

Jayce feels his breathing pick up, flames of fear licking at his mind again as he sees this. He swallows thickly, the spit going down like glue in his throat, as he rests a hand on Viktor's cheek. 

He's breathing. He's still breathing. He's alive. He's okay.

"Viktor, please…please wake up. I need to know-"Jayce nearly chokes on a sob that crawls up from within his chest. "You can't leave. Not now, please."

Jayce has never begged for anything in his life. Sure he's fought for things, but he's never begged. But now, it's all he can think to do. He would get down on his knees and grovel at the feet of whatever gods existed if it meant Viktor would be okay. He would do anything. 

He has so much he has to fix. So many things he needs to tell Viktor. How sorry he is for losing sight of their dream. Apologize for letting their relationship suffer because he was so consumed with greatness. 

He was so consumed that he let the greatest thing that happened to him slip through his fingers. 

Jayce didn't even realize tears had started to spill down his cheeks until they landed on Viktor. He immediately moves to wipe them away, smearing soot and dust across pale skin. 

He can't lose Viktor. He won't. If it means giving up his seat on the council. Giving up Hextech. He doesn't care…he won't lose Viktor. 

A ragged cough pulls him from his thoughts, and his eyes lock onto the source of the sound. Viktor shakes in his grasp, shoulders heaving as he expels dust and contaminants from his lungs. 

Jayce shifts him in his arms as his cough subsides, holding him more securely, so Viktor can look at him. Pools of gold rise slowly to meet his own, and Jayce can't stop the sob this time. Relief rushes through his veins as Viktor brings a hand up to rest atop his. 

"What happened?" His accent is thick on his tongue, words slurred slightly as he fights back towards consciousness. 

But Jayce has never heard anything so beautiful. 

He shakes his head. "I don't know." He says honestly, just now realizing he has absolutely no clue what the hell happened. He was so concerned with Viktor that he didn't even stop to think about it or try to find answers. 

Viktor's eyes close as another bout of coughs shake his frame. He only speaks when they subside. "Are you alright?" 

Jayce nods, more tears dripping from his eyes at the movement. He wraps his hand around Viktor's chilled one when the man gives him a confused look. 

"Why are you crying?" He asks, concern lacing his noticeably less slurred words. "Are you hurt?" 

"Nothing I can't handle," Jayce assured him. "I was…I thought you were - were…." He swallows the words, unable to say them without bringing forth another wave of fear. 

Viktor's lips twitch up in a smile. As much of one he can muster despite whatever pain he must be experiencing. "You can't…" he trails off as he takes a deep breath. "You can't get rid of me that easily." 

The laugh Jayce lets out is wet with tears and makes him grimace at the pain it causes in his side. But he can't be happier. 

"Of course not," he says, a smile on his own on his face. "You foiled my whole plan." 

Viktor lets out a huff but doesn't say much else, so Jayce takes this moment to rest his forehead against Viktor’s, eyes slipping closed in relief. 

"I was so scared." He admits, voice a mere whisper. "I thought I lost you." 

Shaky fingers slide against Jayce's cheek, and he subconsciously leans into the palm that settles there, relishing in the contact. 

"I'm here," Viktor assures him, hand sliding further so his fingers can tangle in Jayce's hair at the base of his neck. "I'm not going anywhere. Not willingly." 

Jayce nods slightly. "I know." He takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Vik," he says, everything he wanted to say spilling out before he can stop it. "I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry that I let the council cloud my judgment. I'm sorry for everything, for being gone. For the things I said." He chokes back another sob as Viktor's fingers press into the back of his neck. "I'm so sorry. Please, I hope you can forgive-"

Warm lips stop the fountain of apologies in their tracks, and Jayce can taste the salt of his tears as Viktor kisses him. Jayce pulls him closer, eyes screwing closed as he kisses him back. He would mold himself to Viktor if he could, stay with him always, for the rest of eternity if it were possible. 

And at this moment, he pretends it is. 

He can feel the grit of dust and rubble on his teeth, can taste the metallic tang of blood, but he doesn't even care. Because Viktor is alive. 

He's here. He's here, breathing, alive, and doesn't completely hate me. 

And he'll do everything to keep it that way. 

Viktor is the first to pull away, but he doesn't go far. Jayce can still feel his breath on his cheek and how Viktor's lips brush against his as he speaks. 

"There's nothing to forgive," Viktor says simply, leaning to rest his head against Jayce's chest, exhaustion evident in his eyes. 

Jayce says nothing because there's nothing he can say to that. So instead, he pulls Viktor that much closer and takes a deep breath. 

New shouts finally started to replace the ones that had faded from the council chamber. An army of footsteps grows louder with each passing moment, and Jayce realizes help has finally arrived. 

They would get out of here. Alive. And Jayce would spend every moment he could fighting to keep them both that way. 

No matter what it takes.

[honeytae]

You’ll always be my favorite person.

okay...here we go...this is my first venture into a mini-series! this will have four or five parts i think...it’s just super fluffy friends to lovers, you know the gig. they’re idiots but...they’ll find their way eventually <3 i hope you all like this, please let me know if i did okay  tags: @ahgasearmyfan, @hoseokayy, @the1921-monsters genre: angst, fluff, IDIOTS TO LOVERS warnings: mentions of cheating, depressive themes (breakup aftermath), namjoon is in denial word count: 3.3k

In which your best friend, Kim Namjoon, helps you get over your asshole ex-boyfriend; perhaps, maybe, he was never the one you loved anyway.

Your eardrums still buzzed from all the shouting. 

Your socked feet repetitively hit the ground, bunching the fabric of your shirt in angst as the aftershocks of the breakup rung through your body. You’d been pacing your living room ever since it happened, a painful lump in your throat threatening to rear it’s head as you debated calling him.

Him. Your best friend, Namjoon. The one you could go to for anything, the only one you wanted to go to. Especially in times like this, when your hands were shaking and your chest felt tight and constricted. 

It was definitely not a good time, only a few hours before his workday began, but you felt as if you were going to drive yourself insane if you went on like this. 

Tapping on Namjoon’s contact, you caved, pressing the phone to your ear to hear the two deep notes before they abruptly stopped.

“Hello?” He rasped, clearing his throat at the gravelly voice he’d just displayed, you staying silent on the other line as guilt seeped through your veins.

“Were you sleeping?” He hears your much too awake voice say through the phone, shaky in a way that had him alert in an instant. 

“No, no,” he lied, sitting up against the headboard as his brows furrowed in worry, “what’s wrong?” he asked immediately, concern taking over his tone as he heard you hesitate, balls of his feet landing on the ground as he clutched the phone tighter at the sound of your sniffle. 

The mere question made tears collect on your water line, lower lip trembling as your face scrunched up in a silent cry that wracked your shoulders. 

Trying your best to regain your composure, you ran a hand through your hair, pushing it away from your face as your stare directed out the window adjacent to you. 

“I don’t even know how it escalated so much but we got into a fight, he left, we broke up.” You blurt out, biting down on your lip to silence the sob coming up your throat and threatening to spill out into the microphone of your device.

There was a heavy moment of silence between the two of you, one that would typically be filled with a joke or poking fun at the other for their awkwardness. But this one was tense, Namjoon’s anger bubbling in his chest echoing in the silence as you stifled your cries.

He’d been there for you for multiple breakups, being the shoulder for you to cry on each time someone broke your heart. It was heartbreaking for him as well, seeing you so shattered over someone who didn’t deserve you. Someone who didn’t deserve your love in the first place. 

“Fuck.” He mumbled, pausing for a moment at a loss for words. “Are you okay? That’s a stupid question, of course you’re not.” He answered himself, grabbing his glasses from his bedside table to slide atop his ears. 

“I’m coming over.” He announced, standing from the mattress and stumbling over to his wardrobe, pulling out a pair of sweatpants to hastily slip on as he lifted his shoulder to his ear in order to hold the phone so that he could still hear you.

Immediately, you began to shake your head no, forgetting for a moment that he couldn’t see you. 

“Joonie, don’t, I’m sorry for calling-“

“Love, I’m coming over. I’m already on my way.” 

When Namjoon arrived, you couldn’t help but collapse into his arms, his strong limbs wrapping you up in a tight hug as he shut the front door behind him. 

“I’m so sorry, love. I’m sorry.” He whispered, hand placed on the back of your head as your shoulders shook with the force of your sobs, his own heart breaking at the sound of your choked cries being muffled into his shirt. 

He stood with you in his grip for a few minutes, letting you cry in his arms as he swayed you comfortingly side to side. 

“Can I walk you over to the couch?” He inquired softly, getting a stoic nod from you in response, never lifting you head from his chest as he began shuffling both your bodies over to the living room. 

You blindly followed his lead as he lowered himself down onto the couch, placing you beside him on the cushion and welcoming you closer when you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

Rubbing his palm up and down your spine, he watched as you steadily began to breathe slower. 

“What happened?” He murmured, watching with gentle eyes as you lifted your head from his body, pouting as you sat up straight against the back of the sofa, looking down at your lap dejectedly. 

Shoulders heaving in a long sigh, you ran a hand through your hair to push it away from your face, the patience exuding from the figure next to you easing you slightly. 

“I was the one who ended things.” 

Namjoon made a quiet noise of surprise from his spot next to you, eyebrows raised slightly as his eyes widened. 

Out of all the relationships you’d been in during his time of knowing you, you’d always been the one who was broken up with. Your history with dating had left Namjoon angry time and time again at the brutal endings that had come along with it. 

“What’d he do?” He asked firmly, tone protective yet knowing as his eyes implored your sullen figure. Fiddling with your fingers, you blew out a sigh, bra it yourself for the explanation to come. 

“Do you remember Hobi’s party?” You asked, Namjoon cocking his head in confusion at the abrupt question.

“Remember when I stormed off and you had to come find me?” You elaborated, a light bulb sparking in Namjoon’s brain as he slowly nodded. Yes, he did remember that.

He remembered coming back from the restroom and not being able to find you, clueless as to where you’d gone before his friends filled him in that you’d suddenly fled without reason. 

Circling the yard several times without finding you, he walked into Hoseok’s house, poking his head into each room with no luck. 

It was when he glanced out the window of the kitchen that he saw a light outside in the dark; a phone screen lighting up none other than your face, low to the ground making him scrunch his brows in confusion before scrambling to exit the house to make sure you were okay. 

Namjoon, ever the gentle giant, couldn’t walk quietly to save his life, shoes pounding against the pavement with each long stride he took toward your hunched over frame. 

The sound of his footsteps had only jarred you slightly, setting your phone down in your lap with a sigh as he sat down beside you on the curb of his friend’s driveway. 

“How’d you end up here?” He had asked, ready to poke fun at you before he noticed the sad gleam in your eye, a frown suddenly overtaking his face as you merely shrugged in response. 

It was a complete contrast to how you’d been just before he’d left for the bathroom, laughing and singing and having fun with him and his friends. He didn’t know what could’ve possibly happened in that short time he was gone. But you were upset, which automatically made him upset.

He tensed up when he realized you might want to be left alone, opening his mouth to ask if that’s what you wanted but pausing once you scooted toward him to rest your head on his shoulder. 

He remembered the words you whispered after a few moments of heavy silence, Namjoon’s heart pounding in his chest as your hands wrapped around his bicep.

I love you.

Moments like that were the hardest for him. Of course he remembered. 

“Yeah. Well, I stormed out because he was letting this girl sit on his lap, practically making out with her.” You scoffed, picking at a string dangling from the sleeve of your shirt as you frowned at the memory.

Silence absorbing the room, you glanced up at Namjoon, unsurprised by the perturbed look on his face.

Namjoon seemed beyond appalled before the emotions on his face turned into anger, his once gaped mouth tightly shut, clenching his jaw while his eyes shot daggers at the man who was no longer in your life. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He finally spoke, facial expression hardening by the second with the new information. 

“I was embarrassed, Joon. Obviously him going to someone else is a message that I’m not enough. I didn’t want anyone to know that, not even you.” You shrugged, Namjoon’s face scrunching in confusion at your explanation.

“That’s such bullshit. He’s sleazy. That’s why he went to someone else. His actions don’t insinuate anything about you.” He fumed, causing you to shrug tiredly.

“It was fucked up, and he knew it. He apologized, said he was just drunk.” You sighed, playing with your fingers in your lap again as Namjoon listened, glancing at your side profile as you heaved another deep exhale. 

“I bought it then, but I don’t believe a word of it now. She’s been blowing up his phone ever since that night.” You confessed, Namjoon’s eyebrows knitting together at your words.

“Was he,” Namjoon started lowly, not daring to finish the sentence he had began. 

“I don’t know, I can’t prove it, but he was messaging her all the fucking time, Joon. It made me feel really weird.” You sighed, resting your elbow on the back of the couch to place your temple onto your palm, letting your eyes fall shut in exhaustion.

“I wouldn’t feel good about that either. God, what a fucking dick.” He said in disbelief, looking at your tired form with a sympathetic frown before shuffling his body closer to you.

“C’mere.”

You heard the return of his soft voice call for you, reaching his arm out behind your back to welcome you into his chest, wrapping you up in a tight hug as he rested his chin on the top of your head. 

“I’ll always be here for you.” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your hair and making you exhale a sigh against him. 

“I know you will. Thank you.” You whispered, clutching onto his soft shirt with a ball of your fist into the fabric. 

“And I’m gonna kick his ass.”

You exhaled a small wheeze at that, burying your face into his shirt, his solid figure providing a comfortable headrest for you. 

“You’re not gonna kick his ass, Joon. You’re too good for that.” You patted his shoulder fondly, sniffling against him as his hand circled your spine. 

Namjoon sighed, knowing you were right. He’d never be able to. But god, if only he was a little tougher. He’d beat any asshole who decided to toss your love away.

Tucking his neck in to look down at you, he recognized the closing of your eyelids, your breathing slowing as you fell into slumber. 

Your eyelashes fanned out onto your cheeks, the skin slightly pink from the salt that had been trailing down from your eyes earlier. Your hair was caught in the dampness, causing Namjoon to gently gather the strands and push it back behind your ears. 

Carefully turning his body around the sofa, he slowly lowered his back to the cushions, you snuggling up on his chest as his hand rested on the crown of your head. 

Staring at the ceiling, he could not fathom the fact that someone would choose anything over this. Over you. He had your love, and he threw it away. It angered Namjoon to no end.

Namjoon, who had been your protector since second grade when he’d helped you get your hair untangled from the swingset. He still remembered the vision when he’d seen it get caught from across the schoolyard, running away from the soccer game him and his friends had been playing in order to help you. 

He could still picture your big eyes staring at him as he untwisted your hair from the chain, explaining to you that he had experience doing this because it’d happened to his younger sister so many times.

You’d been quite shy then, only saying a polite thank you when he was done and taking his slightly sweaty hand to shake it when he offered it to you.

“Namjoon. I’m new.” He explained with a smile, withdrawing his hand to push his glasses up his nose before backing away from you as his friend called out for him.

“I’ll see you later!”

From that day on, you and Namjoon had steadily grown closer, running around with each other at recess and sitting together at lunch. You’d broken out of your shell with him after spending so much time together, your shyness slowly fading as he gained your trust.

As you went into middle school, you two stayed close despite every other friend duo or trio breaking up, the both of you managing to avoid drama all the way through your freshman year. 

That was the year Namjoon got his first girlfriend.

They’d only dated a few months, but he’d been left heartbroken when she wanted to split up. It was you that came to his rescue, stopping at his house with his favorite takeout and rocking him from side to side when he eventually broke down in your arms. 

You had always been there. And his crush had been too, but he’d, through years of suppressing it, gotten to a point where he could act like it wasn’t. 

After all, you were best friends. And that was enough for Namjoon. Having you in his life in any capacity was enough.

•••

You awoke a few hours later to a blinding light in your living room, sun piercing your swollen eyes making you cover them with your palms, a groan slipping past your lips at the heavy weight of your eyelids protesting your consciousness. 

Rubbing them to hopefully soothe the feeling, you pulled your hands away from your face, grasping the blanket on top of you in confusion. 

Dropping your head back down onto the couch, your mind raced with flashbacks from last night. The way he had screamed at you when you’d reached for his phone when it wouldn’t stop ringing because of that fucking girl, how it had turned into a huge argument that ended in you breaking up with him, collapsing in tears as soon as he left. 

You felt dizzy at the memory, the nearly two hour long argument draining you mentally, emotionally, and physically. 

You remembered calling Namjoon, him coming over-

Namjoon. Where was he?

Opening your eyes again, you tried to sit up, scooting your butt back on the couch to straighten your spine. It cracked as you did so, causing you to groan lightly as you turned your neck, sleepily looking around your living room. 

Finding your cell phone on the coffee table, you reached your arm over to retrieve it, looking at the bright screen with squinted eyes. 

Bypassing the rest of your notifications, you read the timestamp, concluding with a sigh that Namjoon had most likely left last night and already departed for work.

Standing up off of the couch, blanket still draped over your shoulders, you shuffled to your bedroom, plopping yourself down on your bed face down with a grunt. 

You couldn’t help the way your mind started spinning with the events of the last few months, the spiral and eventual downfall of your relationship. 

Was he the love of your life? Probably not. But fuck, you’d devoted time and emotion to him, you’d defended him to your family and friends and made yourself look like an ass while doing so over him, and you still weren’t enough. You weren’t enough.

Silent tears began soaking the pillow below you, your sniffles filling the room as you covered your face with the blanket, trapping yourself in the darkness beneath the tent of fabric. 

Finally, the fresh tears stopped falling, your bedroom once again encased in silence as you shut your sore eyes, hoping for some sleep to distract yourself for a bit.

Just as you were about to plunge into sleep, you startled awake at the sudden feeling of a hand on your shoulder before settling at the familiar warmth and size of the palm. Namjoon. Your gentle, goofy, over-sized best friend.

“Hello?” He called to you, tugging at the blanket again to which you released your grip, allowing him to see the wet trails down your reddened cheeks as you pouted up at him.

The devastated look on his face made you feel even worse, never liking to see Namjoon with such a glum expression.

His dimpled smile belonged on his face, the gentle scrunch of his nose when he laughed at something making him look not too far off from when you used to make him laugh in elementary school. 

Seeing Namjoon sad was always a trigger to you, and with your current mental state, it was no exception. You couldn’t hold back the choked sob that came out of your mouth, Namjoon instantly sitting back against the headboard and welcoming you into his side as you crawled to him. 

“Oh, love.” He frowned, hand trailing up and down your spine to coax your cries. 

“It hurts, Joon.” You whimpered, the man soothing your hair back with a frown.

“I know. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He said softly, not knowing what other words to say. 

Honestly, he was fucking furious at him. Furious for playing with your heart like that. But he needed to be here for you, present to make sure you were coping healthily. 

“I thought you left for work.” You whispered, Namjoon humming softly in response.

“Mm, no, I called out. I just went to go pick up some coffee.” He explained, gesturing over to your bureau where two to-go cups of coffee sat side by side. 

“Why’d you call-”

“Because you need me and I’m not going to leave you. Plus, I woke up late today anyway. There was no time for me to go back home and get dressed then get there.” 

“You didn’t have to call out for me, Joon.”

“Love, I wanted to. I promise.” He said, causing you to sigh against him. 

“Thank you.” You mumbled, not knowing quite what you did to deserve such a selfless person in your life. 

When it came to absolute sweethearts, Namjoon took the cake.

“Plus, now I can spend my day with my favorite person. Who’d give that up?” He squeezed your shoulder, raising his eyebrows when you stirred in your position.

His words caused you to pick your head up off of him, Namjoon ignoring the daggers you sent him while he smoothed your fuzzy bedhead down with his palm. 

“You wanted to spend your day with a crying broken me? Really?” You practically scoffed, Namjoon squeezing your shoulder in response. 

“Hey, crying you is still you. You’ll always be my favorite person.” He defended himself, you shaking your head at him with a small smile. 

Laying back down against him, he latched an arm around your waist, securing you in his hold and making you exhale a bit of the tension in your body. 

“Wanna watch something?” He looked from the blank television back to you snuggled against his side, your nod causing his arm to reach over the bureau to grab the remote. 

“The usual?” He wondered, beginning to type the letters into the search bar when you nodded once again. 

Setting the remote down as the Looney Tunes introduction music played from the speaker, both your and Namjoon’s eyes glued to the screen as you lost yourselves in the nostalgia it provided. 

It brought you back to simpler times, when you were in fifth grade having your after school snack at Namjoon’s house, fruit that his mother had cut up for the two of you. 

It brought you back to simpler times when stupid men hadn’t wormed their way into your heart, only to reject you once they had you. 

Being brought back to earth by the man beside you with his hand trailing through your hair, you closed your eyes, thanking him in your head for always knowing what you needed. 

You knew you’d be okay eventually. Namjoon wouldn’t let you fail.

He never had.

[nastybuckybarnes]

In a Heartbeat  -  Seven

Pairing: Fireman!Bucky X Reader

Summary: You’ve always been careful with your heart. With your condition, you don’t exactly have any other choice. The last time you let someone in, you paid the price. A price you don’t plan on paying again. Until Bucky comes in and shatters your carefully crafted world.

Warnings: Angst, Language, Injuries, Fluff, Fluff, FLUFF

Word Count: 4.1K

A/n: Here she is! Part seven! I’m gonna write a little epilogue but the fic can very well end here! I love this series with my whole heart and soul omg

Series Masterlist

~*~

He’s numb.

So damn numb.

Nothing even matters. His ears are ringing, the bright lights bouncing off the linoleum floors are fucking with his eyes but he doesn’t care because you’ve been in the operating room for hours and all he wants is to see you, to make sure you’re okay.

No one’s said a single thing to him about whether or not you’re okay, and it’s taking all of his self-control not to break down that door and see for himself.

A heavy hand lands on his shoulder, jolting him from his thoughts and bringing him back to the loud sounds of the waiting room.

He furrows his brows at Steve, confused out of his mind until he sees Tommy in his other arm, head resting against his father's shoulder and a casted arm hanging limply at his side.

“Hey Tommy, how you feeling?” The brunet asks, his voice rough and hoarse with lack of use.

The six-year-old only whimpers softly in response, burrowing further into his father’s neck.

“He’s okay. Doctor’s got him on some painkillers. Said it was a clean break from pounding on that window.” Bucky stands up, rubbing his nephew on the back. “You’re a hero, buddy. Just like your daddy.” Tommy sniffles and nods, the sight breaking the man’s heart.

“You should head home for the night, Buck. Shower, rest, then come back in the morning.” He clenches his jaw and swallows hard, shaking his head.

“I-I can’t, Steve. What if... what if she comes out and I’m not here? Or what if...” He trails off, not even wanting to entertain the idea of the other option.

“I saw Nat on her way down here. Ask her for an update and then go home. You’ve had a long day. And when she’s out of surgery she's gonna be upset to see that you’ve exhausted yourself out here in the waiting room.” Steve has a point. Both men are still in their fire gear, having rushed to the hospital directly from the fire.

It’s after midnight now.

“I’m taking Tommy home. Take care of yourself tonight, Buck. If not for you, then for her.” He nods, eyes on the floor as the blond leaves, his son curled up against his side.

“Barnes? You’re still here?” He looks up at the sound of Natasha’s voice, desperation evident on his face as she walks over to him.

“I’ve got no update other than she’s unstable and that they’re doing everything they can. It’ll be another few hours before she’s out of surgery and even then, she’s going straight to the ICU and won’t be awake for at least a day or so.” He lets out a terribly shaky breath but nods, rubbing his eyes then pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Y-you’ll call if there are any updates, right? I’m just gonna pop home and shower and sleep for a few hours but I'll be back first thing in the morning.” She nods, taking his hand and squeezing tightly.

“I’m off for the rest of the night, so I’ll be sticking around bugging the nurses for updates whenever I can. Might even bribe an intern with good coffee, not this hospital shit.” Bucky chuckles softly, shaking his head.

“Okay.” He takes a step towards the exit then hesitates, looking back at the redhead for a. moment. “Do you think she’s gonna make it?” He asks, his voice soft and broken and nearly lost among the sea of people.

Natasha swallows hard and avoids his eyes, taking a deep breath before answering.

“The doctors are doing everything they can.” A rehearsed answer. An answer she gives to relatives to let them know that they shouldn’t expect much.

He says nothing, only gives her a firm nod, then turns and leaves the hospital.

Hot droplets of water rain down on him, washing away the stench of smoke and the physical reminder of the events of the day. But no heat and no water pressure will wash away the sorrow in his soul. The absolute unadulterated fear that grips his bones and seeps into his bloodstream. That is something that won’t be washed away by any amount of water and suds.

His movements are mechanical, scrub, rinse, dry, dress.

The sleep that finds him is restless and fitful, filled with nightmares that will haunt him for nights to come. Every thought, both waking and otherwise, are occupied by you. Your face, your smile, your laugh, and the thought that he may never experience any of them again.

He's back at the hospital at six-thirty, coffee in his metal hand because his flesh one is shaking too much.

Just as he’s walking to the reception desk, he sees Natasha walking towards the waiting room. Her face is unreadable when she sees him, but he notices her take a deep breath.

“What is it?” He asks, not bothering with pleasantries.

“She’s out of surgery. She’s still unstable, hasn’t woken up yet, but she’s been out for about three hours. She probably won’t wake up until this evening.” He takes a few deep breaths then nods, a bubble of relief hugging him tenderly.

“Where is she?” Nat sighs and turns on her heel, leading him towards your room.

“James, I’m not going to sugar coat this for you. She’s not doing well. There’s still a fair chance that she won’t wake up.” She stops, looking up at him with vulnerability in her eyes, tears brimming.

“What is it?” He’s nervous, his heart feels like it’s going to explode.

“They’re saying she needs a transplant. That her heart won’t last for much longer and if she wants any hope of surviving more than a couple years, she’ll need a new heart.”

The air leaves his lungs in a whoosh, almost as if someone punched him in the gut. He stumbles back a step, coffee dropped and hands coming to the tops of his thighs as he hunches over, trying to catch his breath.

“That’s a best-case scenario. Worst case is she... well... we should’ve said our goodbyes. But she’s strong. She’ll pull through. She has to pull through.” That last part is whispered so softly that the brunet almost misses it.

“Nat,” his voice breaks, it cracks and splinters and shatters in pieces on the linoleum that he doesn’t have the energy to pick up. He can’t pick himself back up. Not if you might not wake up. He just can’t.

“Sit down, c’mon.” She helps him lean back against the wall, sliding down until he’s seated, arms draped over his knees and his head hanging heavily between them.

He can’t breathe.

A sick voice in his head screams that this is what you must’ve been feeling, this terrible tightness in your chest, this inability to draw in a single damn breath. It’s unbearable and for just a moment he realizes he wouldn’t blame you if you gave up, if you just let it take you. But he shakes that thought from his head and instead focuses on you fighting. You need to fight. If you can pull through, then they can find you a new heart and you’ll be okay.

You’re going to be okay.

You have to be okay.

~*~

Everything feels still. Dry. Bland.

If you could pin it to a colour, that colour would be beige.

Everything feels beige.

You’ve been awake for a little while now, gathering your bearings and trying to remember what happened. The last thing you remember is the fire bell... Wanda telling you not to go... and then running back into the building to find Tommy.

Tommy.

Your heart picks up in speed, pain flaring through your chest at the action, and an alarm starts beeping rapidly.

It takes only seconds for the door to open, nurses and doctors flooding into the room and checking the various machines around you while you grab at the front of your hospital gown uselessly, trying to alleviate the pain.

“(Y/n), I need you to take a big breath with me, okay?” A doctor says, her brown eyes focused on yours. You nod, inhaling with her for a moment then exhaling. You do this a few times and the machine gradually stops, your heart slowing as whatever they injected into your bloodstream takes effect.

Nurses slowly trickle out, leaving just you and the doctor.

“Well, you sure know how to make an entrance,” she says with a smile, looking over your chart.

“What can I say, Doc? I’ve got a flair for the dramatic.” Your voice is weak, far weaker than it should be, and that alone scares you.

She chuckles softly, smiling at your words before tucking the chart under her arm and looking at you straight on.

“You being alive right now is an absolute miracle,” she says softly, taking a step towards the bed then motioning to the chair beside it, asking wordlessly if she can take a seat.

You nod, taking a few deep breaths as you prepare to hear whatever news she has for you.

“Your heart stopped twice on the way to the hospital, and the second time we almost couldn’t get it going again. Your heart is weak, and what you endured nearly ruptured your left atrium and you had severe lacerations of your ventricles. It is most comparable to a very severe heart attack, and you’re lucky to have survived.”

She doesn’t look like she’s delivering good news. No, she should be happy if you’re lucky to have survived. That fact alone puts you on edge.

“What is it? What... what’s wrong with my heart now?” You know it can’t be good judging only by the look on her face. It’s a look you’ve seen far too many times.

“With the rate you’re going, your heart will give out completely in three or four years. And it won’t be a pleasant process. You’ll be in pain, bedridden and hospitalized because you won’t be able to move. The only alternative is a transplant.” The world around you shifts from beige to grey, the clouds dark and the room sorrowful.

Your ears start ringing, loud and painfully and it takes everything in you not to rip them right off.

“S-so that’s it then? I’m gonna die in three years if I’m lucky? I’ve only got three years left?” She sighs and looks down at her hands, “the only other option would be to put you on a waiting list for a new heart, but we cannot guarantee that you’ll get it in time, but it’s worth a shot.” You shake your head, tears falling from your eyes and splattering on the ugly blue hospital blanket.

“I don’t want a new heart! I don’t want to go through a process and get my hopes up over something that I won’t get in time.” You sniffle and shove your face in your hands, the steady beeping of the machine next to you making you want to cry even harder.

“I’ll give you some time, (Y/n).” The doctor gets up and leaves, a sad look on her face as she turns to the pair waiting anxiously outside your door.

Natasha pushes herself to her feet, her eyes wide with curiosity and desperation.

“I recommend you give her space. She’s... processing everything,” Doctor Palmer says softly, giving Natasha a sad smile before walking away to handle her other patients.

Nat exchanges looks with Bucky then slowly walks to the door.

“Just give me a minute to see how she’s doing, okay? I’ll tell her you’re out here waiting, I just wanna see if she needs anything.” He takes a deep breath but nods, understanding that Natasha would be able to tell, if only from a medical standpoint, what you need.

You keep your face in your hands, tears wetting your palms, as the door opens again.

“Beans?” Nat’s voice makes you stiffen, sniffling and wiping your eyes before peeking up at her.

Her heart shatters in her chest at the sight of you.

Skin dull, eyes heavy and sunken. She’s seen a lot of sick people before but never would she have put you in the same category as them. Now though? Now, you look the part.

“I uh... I heard the news. Bugged the nurses for updates and they finally caved.”

Your bottom lip wobbles and then a sob bubbles out of your chest.

Nat’s face falls and she slides onto the bed beside you, pulling you into a tight embrace while you sob.

“Oh beans,” she whispers, smoothing your hair away from your face.

“I don’t want a new heart!” You cry, tears soaking her shirt. She hugs you, holds you tightly while you cry out your frustrations, your sorrows.

It’s agony.

She has so many questions, so much she wants to say, but she knows better.

She holds her tongue, wanting you to be in a better headspace before she talks to you about your options. It’s too soon. The wound is too fresh.

Bucky sits impatiently outside of the room the whole time, leg bouncing and flesh fingers trembling.

Natasha comes out of your room a short while later, sniffling and wiping at her cheeks.

“What’s happening? Is she okay?” The redhead nods, taking a few deep breaths.

“I’ve seen a lot of sick people, Barnes. A lot of them. But seeing her... seeing my friend so weak and tiny...” She shakes her head, looking up at him with glossy eyes.

“I’m scared, Buck.” Bucky pulls her into a hug, his own breaths shaking.

“It's okay. It’s gonna be okay.” She sniffles again then speaks, “she’s asleep again. She should be good to see you the next time she wakes up though. I’m sure she misses you.” He squeezes his eyes shut but nods, trying to mentally prepare himself to see you in such a fragile state.

~*~

Bucky doesn’t know how to feel.

He doesn’t even want to feel.

Helpless.

That’s the word that sums it up the best.

Seeing you on that hospital bed, tubes attached to your face, arms, and chest, he feels absolutely helpless.

“Hey,” he murmurs, smiling gently when you look up from your book.

“Bucky... Hi.” Your voice is raspy and hoarse, and he has to take a few shaky breaths to stop from crying.

“You mind if I sit?” You shake your head, motioning to the chair beside your bed.

He takes a seat and looks at you closely, his eyes welling up with tears.

“How ya feelin, pretty girl?” You huff a breath out through your nose then shrug, trying your hardest to stay strong in front of him.

“I uh... I’ve been better, I gotta say.” He chuckles weakly then nods, sniffling and dropping his gaze for a moment.

“Nat uh... Nat told me what the doctors said. About your heart and stuff. That’s... intense.” It’s not the best word but it’s the only one he can find.

You blow a breath out through your mouth and nod.

“It’s scary,” you whisper, not looking up from your hands even when he takes them in his.

“I’m scared. I don’t want to be put on a waiting list only to not get one in time. And there are people who need a new heart more than I do. People who want one more than I do.” He furrows his brows and cocks his head to the side in confusion.

“What do you mean, you don’t want a new heart? Why wouldn’t you want one?”

You sigh heavily, “because, James. This is my heart. It’s the heart that I’ve lived with for my whole life. I don’t want a new one because this one is mine. This is the one that’s dealt with heartbreaks and betrayals. This is the one that’s gotten me through the bad days and the good. And this is the one that chose you. I don’t want a different one. I wanna keep this one. And don’t you dare tell me that my days are numbered if I keep this one because my days are numbered regardless.”

You finally look up at him, fire in your eyes as you express everything that’s been going on in your mind.

“We’re all gonna die someday, and it may not be the way we expect or the way we want, and we won’t ever be fully ready for it. But it’s gonna happen. I’d much rather know that I spent my life doing what I wanted on my terms. If my days are numbered, I'd rather enjoy them than spend them waiting for a heart I may never get. My heart’s still got a few years left in it. Careful years, yeah, but years no less.”

Tears stain his cheeks and he nods, sniffling twice then pressing a kiss to your hands.

“I’m not going to try and change your mind, Doll. The choice is completely yours and no matter what you decide to do, I’ll stay by your side through all of it, I promise. You’re my girl, my best girl, my only girl, and I want you to do what’s best for you.” You squeeze your eyes shut, having mentally prepared yourself for him to put up a fight, not for him to be so supportive of your decision.

“I love you, (Y/n). And I’m gonna cherish every fucking moment that you let me spend with you because I love you. I thought,” he pauses, pulling a hand back to scrub the tears off of his cheeks only for more to fall.

“I thought I’d lose you before getting a chance to truly tell you. But I’m not gonna waste any more time because life is a precious gift. I love you, (Y/n). So much. To the fucking ends of the Earth. I love you and I don't want a day to go by where you don’t know just how much I love you.”

You whimper, his confession making warmth spread through your body and tears rain down your cheeks.

“I-I love you too, James. With every ounce of my heart, I love you. And I don't want to let you down and I never want to hurt you.” He closes his eyes, content to bask in the weight of your words for a moment longer, a private, intimate moment.

He eventually settles his head on the bed next to your hip, and your fingers find their way into his luscious brown locks, twirling the thick strands around mindlessly.

“When are you getting discharged?” He asks, his voice muffled by the bed.

“I’m not sure yet. Doctor Palmer said she wants to keep me here for at least another week or so to monitor my heart and take me off the medication, and then maybe some more time after that depending on how weak I am.” He nods, nuzzling against you some more.

“I’m not going back to work ‘till you’re out,” he says matter-of-factly.

You only giggle, shaking your head.

“James, that’s not even plausible. You’ve got bills to pay. Besides, you’ll get tired of being here. I’m gonna spend most of my time sleeping or bugging the nurses for some real food.” He lifts his head, eyes full of vulnerability.

“I just don't wanna leave you and then...” He trails off but you understand his concern.

“I’m gonna be okay. Doctor Palmer says I’m doing okay. I’m sure Nat will continue bugging her for updates and she’ll let you know if there’s anything concerning happening. But I’m gonna be fine, I swear.” He watches you for a moment longer before nodding and pressing his head against your thigh.

A thought bubbles into your mind and you tug gently on his hair to get his attention.

“What happened to Tommy?” You ask, voice tight and filled with apprehension.

Bucky only smiles gently.

“Lil guy’s a hero. He busted that window open, that’s how we found you two. Broke his arm but he’s okay. Says he looks like me so he likes it.” A smile finds its way onto your face at the idea of Tommy looking up to his uncle so much.

“He’s already gotten everyone at the firehouse to sign it, and I’m sure when he’s back to school he’ll get everyone there to sign it too. But the lil guy’s a hero. Gonna make a good firefighter.” You nod, mind flashing back to those last few moments in the school.

“I was so scared, James. I-I couldn’t protect him and I didn’t know what to do.” He reaches up and strokes your cheek gently, shushing you softly.

“It’s okay, pretty girl. It’s okay. Everyone’s okay.” You take a few deep breaths and nod, trying to calm down before your heart rate picks up too much.

“You need to worry about yourself, and not everyone else. Focus on getting better, okay? And then, when you’re ready, I’m gonna take you out on a date and show you just how much you can enjoy life, okay?”

You nod, smiling at him.

“Okay.”

~*~

“Miss (Y/l/n)!” Tommy runs at you full speed, nearly knocking you over when he barrels into your legs.

Bucky’s quick to steady you, opening his mouth to reprimand his nephew but you stop him, raising a hand to cut him off.

“Hey, Tommy! How’s my little superhero feeling?” He pulls back and smiles up at you.

“I got another cast so now my arm looks just like uncle Bucky’s!” You glance at the new blue cast and smile brightly.

“Look at that! And you’re a hero just like him too, huh?” He nods excitedly then digs around in his pocket for a moment.

“Here!” He hands you a sharpie then points to a blank space on his cast.

“I made sure to leave room for you to sign it!” Your face softens and you crouch down in front of him, signing your name and drawing a small picture.

“Thank you, Tommy.” He nods, glancing over his shoulder as his dad calls his name.

“C’mon Tommy! You gonna help us move or are you gonna help miss (Y/l/n) get organized?” He looks between you and his dad then runs over to the moving truck, excitedly grabbing whatever his little arms can carry then bringing them into the house.

Bucky wraps an arm around your waist and presses a soft kiss to your temple.

“You ready?” You look up at your new house, then over at him, nodding without hesitation.

“Absolutely.”

The moving process is long and tedious, and after seven hours of lifting, unboxing, cleaning, and organizing, you’re about ready to call it a day.

“Pizza’s on its way, and Nat ran out to grab some beers,” Bucky says, coming up into the master bedroom. Concern immediately colours his features as he sees the way you’re sitting. You’re on the bed, hunched over with one hand on your mouth and the other on your lower abdomen.

“(Y/n)?” He asks, coming to a crouch in front of you and trying to get a look at your face.

You take a few deep breaths then nod, opening your eyes and offering him a weak smile.

“You okay?” You nod again but he seems unconvinced.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” You take a deep breath and reach for his hand, squeezing it gently.

“I uh.. not really. I wanted to tell you in a better way but I guess this is as good as it’s going to get.” His heart is in his throat, absolutely terrified of what you’re going to tell him.

You’ve been going to the doctor a lot more frequently, and your energy levels have plummeted.

He knew you didn’t have time left but it hasn’t even been six months since the fire.

You pull his hand to your stomach and rest it there gently, eyes finding his as you wait for it to click.

He stares at his hand in confusion, that confusion melting away as he realizes what you’re telling him.

“Wait, are you...?”  His eyes are wide, eyebrows raised and heart pounding.

You only nod, tears welling up in your eyes as he launches up and wraps his arms around your frame.

“Oh my god. Oh my god! I’m gonna be a dad!” You giggle wetly, tears of joy falling and getting soaked up by his shirt.

“We’re gonna have a baby.” He pulls back, hands on your small baby bump.

“How far along are you?” He asks, cradling the bump delicately between his hands.

“About three months. And the doctor said that they’ve already got a birth plan ready, and different pills for me to take to calm my heart.” His glossy eyes look up at you, so full of love and adoration.

“I can’t believe it. I...” he stops, leaning in the gently kiss your lips then pulls you into another tight embrace.

“Thank you, (Y/n). Thank you.”

[inkedtae]

fountain of fantasies ⇾ jjk. [M]

⟶ from the eros universe; you do not need to read eros to read this one shot

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ god!jungkook x curvy!reader (f.)

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ s2l, greek mythology au, circa. 1800 au, historical au, light fluff, angst, smut, pwp, filth, 18+

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾ you rather be engaging in heart racing activities than in heart breaking ones

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 15.6k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ dom!jungkook, bigdick!jungkook, buff!jungkook, winged!jungkook, longhair!jungkook, ponytail!jungkook, sub!reader, slightly insecure!reader, shy!reader, mentions and consumption of alcohol, unprotected sex (wrap it to tap it folks), rough sex, playful-ish sex, semi-public sex, fountain sex, dirty talk, creampie, multiple orgasms, slight degradation, overstimulation, exhibition, a lil voyeurism, praise kink, anal, edging, squirting, choking, hair pulling, bodyworshipping, a lil motorboating, a lil begging, water play, a lil spit play, a lil breast play, ass play, a fountain of filth :)

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾ i’m too much of a hoe for greek god guk not to turn this into a mini-series... 

⤜ banner by ↠ @thebannershop​ (thank you dearie~)

⤜ beta’d by ↠  @moonmintrails​ (my soulmate~)

⤜ le playlist ↠

Plump plum juices leak from your violet stained lips. You watch the storm rage through the balcony windows. Flashes of lightning, streaks of raindrops and the wall-rattling thunder only stares back at you. The noise of the world around you would be just the perfect cover for all the sounds he draws out of you. Teeth sinking into the fruit’s flesh, you take another bite and fix your stockings. Topless, you lean back in your plush seat and cross your legs. 

You know he’s not coming. It’s been a week since his last visit, a week of staying up late only to fall asleep and wake up to a new toy. You glance at your bed. The collection of gifts under it do not compensate for his absence. You don’t want the ruby dildos or golden anal plugs. You can live without the silver tit-clamps and sapphire pearled whips. It’s him you won’t do without. 

But tonight would be a perfect night of fun. You swallow your bite before taking another one as your mind circles every dirty thought you’ve been wanting to entertain for the last seven days. Staring out the rain stained windows, the one that appeals to you the most for tonight would be on that balcony, where it started all those months ago. The thought of being drenched in rainwater while he bends you over the railing makes you squeeze your crossed legs together. And the fluttering flap of his wings as they shake out the storm prickles your skin with goosebumps. Wet hands tangled in your wet hair. Loud moans blended in the loud thunder. 

An urgent knock raps on your door. You sit up, letting out a shaky breath from the remnants of that fantasy. As you set your plum down by some grapes on the side table, you shoot to your feet to grab your robe. 

“Bunny,” Mary, your sister, whispers from the other side. 

The little childhood nickname brings a smile to your face. The two of you would play Wonderland in the garden as children and Mary would have you, Bunny, guide her down the right path. Now, she only ever calls you that when she’s nervous and struggling to admit it. 

Tying the robe around your waist, you eagerly let her in. “What is it, Mary?” You smile as she rushes past you. 

She doesn’t take a moment to properly greet you, darting to your little library instead. “Do you have that book about Mount Olympus?” She asks. Her freshly painted nails scrape over the spines of each book as you part your lips to reply. “Oh! Here it is!”

Returning to your seat, you watch your older sister skim through the pages. “Why the sudden interest in Greek gods?” 

“Michael mentioned something about Hera and I just wanted to- I knew it!” 

Chewing on another bite, you raise a brow at her. “I’m sure he’d be pleased to hear that tomorrow,” you chuckle around your food.

Mary pauses. Her eyes, previously gleaming with excitement, diminish into indifference. She clears her throat and shuts the book. “Mama says to never correct a man.”

You stuff your mouth with a big bite and avoid your sister’s gaze. There’s lots you have to say about your mother’s philosophy on love, but you know better than to voice those opinions. 

Mary continues talking, despite knowing your reservations about your mother. She holds the book to her chest and tentatively sits on your bed. “Mama wants me to talk to you about something.”

Slowly chewing, you glance at her. You already know where this is going. It’s another desperate attempt on your mother’s part to make sure you don’t wear the dress he had gifted you. She knows full well how much it reveals and how well it’s designed. You don’t care for your mother’s opinion though; you haven’t for months. It’s Mary’s opinion on the subject that matters to you. 

“But, I told her that I don’t want to lie to you.” She takes a moment to sigh then meets your gaze once more. “You’ll look gorgeous in that dress, Bunny,” she smiles. “And I have the perfect shoes for them too.”

A laugh bubbles out of your throat and you almost choke on your food. Mary laughs at your struggling state. “Oh, can we get ready for your party together?” You ask, perking up in your seat once you properly swallow your food. 

Mary’s excited gaze wavers. She glances back at the book before hesitantly nodding. “Yes.”

“What is it?”

“Nothing…”

You give her a pointed look. Flopping down on the bed, Mary groans and stares up at the ceiling. “What do you think of Michael?” You part your lips to reply, but she continues, “I mean I know he’s from a good family, and can take care of me, and he’s so handsome.”

You bite your lip at the last comment. Michael is not exactly your type of heartthrob. But, then again, your senses have been obscured by a god, so now not a single person can look as handsome, as beautiful, as heavenly as your Eros. 

“But, he says and does things I’m not exactly…” She trails off. “And I think his previous courtship with Linette ended horribly.”

Her half-sentence rings some warning in your gut. However, by the way she avoids eye contact to stare at your crystal chandelier, you decide not to address it. ���What makes you think so?” you ask instead.

“Well, that’s what he told me.”

Resisting the urge to scoff, you simply quirk a brow. Mary may be a couple of years older, but she still hasn’t grown out of her naive tendencies. You’re about to tell her that everything will be okay when you catch a familiar silhouette on your balcony. 

He’s here.

Mary shoots up off your bed. You fear for a second that she may have seen him, but then she asks, “So? What do you think?”

Gulping, you take a moment to collect your thoughts. Erasing the fact that he’s finally here from your mind, you try to remain focused on your sister. You want the best for her. You want her to be excited about who she marries and for the life she will spend with that person. And that’s why it takes you a world of restraint not to tell her that if she isn’t a hundred percent sure about marrying Michael, then maybe she shouldn’t. 

“Do you love him, Mary?” You ask. “And I don’t mean that ‘nobility’ love. I mean that, ‘makes you cry just thinking about losing him’ love.”

Mary hesitates.Your eyes flicker to the balcony where he continues to stand. Inhaling deeply, you silently ask him to wait just a second longer. 

“I think I do,” she smiles. 

Your heart shatters at her phrasing. I think. Where is the room for thinking when true love is at your door? You want to tell her that there shouldn’t be any of this ‘thinking’ nonsense. You either do or you don’t, you want to say. But her smile is so pure and eyes light up just enough that you don’t have the heart to take it all away. Besides, maybe she really does love him. 

“Then, I think he’s perfect for you.”

Mary grabs the book and jumps to her feet. “Let’s meet in my room at seven,” she smiles, ruffling through your hair on her way to the door. “Have a good night, Bunny.”

“You too,” you smile as she shuts the door with a wink. The gesture is unusual but you suppose she’s just excited about the party tomorrow. You’re not exactly sure why she did it and with a winged god at your door, you can’t find it in you to care for too long. 

Darting to the balcony, you pull open the doors to be greeted by empty winds and heavy raindrops. Those wings are gone, balcony vacant of anything but despair. Not even a gift replaces his presence. You hold your tears back and swallow the growing lump in your throat. Your time is not one of his toys, nor is it free. You’ve run out of patience. You’re empty of reason, thriving on broken feelings. 

Shakily sighing, you bury the hurt in your voice and whisper, “if you can’t stay, don’t come at all.”

Sparkling diamonds, glasses, and wine circle the ballroom. Sipping on your drink, you take in the gleaming marble floors and the arches of the grand windows. The Barbury Estate is twice the size of yours. You want to believe that your mother’s delight in Mary’s proposal has more to do with her happiness than the fact that her fiancé is riddled with more wealth than he knows what to do with. But, you know that your mother has a special bond with money. It’s the same relationship she has with social standards. Her philosophy is simple; the more, the better. Now, if only your mother felt that way about you. 

No, wait. This night is not about you. An evening lost in a grand room of people only appeals to you when the occasion for such torture is your sister’s engagement party. Your chest swells with pride as you watch Mary dance with her fiancé. Michael Barbury is not exactly what you would call ‘prince charming.’ His jokes border on racism and thoughts are somewhat insipid, but he makes Mary happy. That’s all that matters to you. Her relapse in judgement last night does worry you. But you know that she’ll be happy with Michael. With Eros gone, you wonder how soon you’ll find a love like that too.

Mary’s graceful giggles cut you out of your trance. You blink once, twice until your senses fully return to you. Even the smallest thought of him throws you out of your consciousness. Settling your eyes back on your sister, watching as she basks in Michael’s unwavering attention and dotting devotion, you’re greeted with a sense of comfort. The guilt of not speaking your truth disappears and the fear of never finding love dissipates to the back of your mind. 

“Miss (Y/N)?” Lee Kyon asks, waving his hand in front of you. 

Right, you forgot he was there. Turning to face him once more, you flash Kyon a somewhat kind smile. “Yes, Mr. Lee?”

He furrows his brows. “Is everything alright?”

Perhaps everything would be alright if your mother didn’t constantly feel the need to set you up with the first poor man that accidently looks your way. Yes, you’re well aware of your mother’s behaviour and the fact that Kyon has no real interest in getting to know you. Judging by the way he continues to loop back to the same dull topic about the history of wine, you can tell that he is merely trying to keep the conversation short enough to be polite, but not long enough to be courting you. 

It’s not as though you care for his company either. Kyon has half of Michael’s intelligence. Even though you were only half-listening to his rant, you already pick out the few historical inaccuracies in his unprompted explanation. Of course, the worst thing you can do to a man is attack his wits and pride; that’s what your mother tells you anyway. It’s what worried Mary last night too. And you’ve tested that theory enough to know how true it is and how fun it can be. Watching them grapple for the right words, flare their nostrils in frustration and demand you apologize will always be just as humorous as when they try to “teach” you about language or art or, in Kyon’s case, history. 

Biting back a sigh, you nod and silently pray for a way out of this boring conversation and into something a bit more exciting. 

Clearing his throat, Kyon searches for a way to fill the silence. He then half-heartedly mutters, “You look darling this evening.”

Glancing down at your dress, your face heats up. The tiger lily-peach layers of satin and tulle fall down to your ankles. The pleated skirt mirrors the petals of a flower. Cleavage on display, the long flowy sleeves fall off your shoulders. Finished with a green ribbon around your waist and gleaming pink jewels, this is possibly the best dress he has gifted you. 

Your Eros left it, no wait- he’s not yours anymore. A friend left it hanging in your closet one morning after another passionate night in his embrace. It was a beautiful surprise to be woken up to and a manageable struggle to explain how it came into your possession. You can’t help but find it a bit ironic how your mother is desperate to set you up with the first man she sees, but hesitant to dress you up for the occasion. He must have known, must have felt your frustration towards your mistreatment. 

It takes everything in you to fight off the smile playing on your lips. You glance back up at Kyon, parting your lips to thank him when he continues, “And how brave of you to wear such a dress.”

You pause. “Brave?” 

Kyon smiles and nods. 

Is he really telling you what you think he is? Is he really undermining your confidence, undermining the beauty you know you have by commending your ‘bravery?’ No, you mustn’t judge too quickly. Perhaps he’s admiring your choice to go against expectations of covering up with a shawl. 

You swallow back your initial assumptions, and decide to give him the benefit of the doubt. “I’m not sure I know what you mean, Mr. Lee?”

“Well,” Kyon starts. He looks off to the side and raises both his brows before looking to you once more. His hazel eyes scan your figure, jaw clenching as he clears his throat. “A dress like this is traditionally worn by a woman that looks more like…” he trails off, eyes wandering as well. “Like Miss (L/N).”

A stinging chorus of hushed laughter strikes your pride. Your gut boils with shame and humiliation as your eyes bounce between the partygoers near you. You hadn’t realized they were eavesdropping. As a desperate attempt to ignore their maliciously amused looks, you follow Kyon’s gaze to Mary. Chewing on your lip, you ignore the urge to roll your eyes. This isn’t the first time someone has compared you to her, and you know very well that it won’t be the last. Even the utter disrespect of referring to you by your first name and your sister by your last name further displays their lack of recognition for you. In their eyes, you will forever remain as Miss (Y/N), the spinster-destined sister of Miss (L/N). And though you are certain that the twinge of pain and anger festering in your chest is for Kyon, you can’t help but be a little annoyed with your sister as well. 

But then she laughs, smiling so bright and wide. She looks up at Michael and rests her chin on his bicep, reveling in his attention and embrace. You realize, in her moment of happiness, that you can’t find it in you to hold this grudge against her. Your love for her is greater than your pride. Besides, she plays no part in your insecurities. And, you decide as you turn back to Kyon, neither will this privileged upperclassman.

“How brave,” you sigh with a single shouldered shrug. 

“What is, Miss (Y/N)?”

“How brave of you to believe anyone cares for your opinion.”

Kyon chokes on his drink. The partygoers, previously humoured by your embarrassment, relish in your courage to upstage Kyon. Gasping a giggle, you step back to avoid being spit on. He glares at you as he wipes his chin. You don’t hesitate to return that hard, hateful look in his eye. Raising a challenging brow, you dare him to attempt to embarrass you again.

He takes one step towards you, looking as though he’s about to grab at your arm when his stride is redirected. Kyon walks away without another word. You stare after him in confusion as he mutters an apology under his breath. 

You’re not sure what caused this sudden change in his angry course, but you’re all too happy to be rid of him to dwell on the thought of his motives much longer. He must’ve known how offensive his words were. True, most people compare you to your sister, but at least they have the decency to do it behind your back. You rather be physically absent from a conversation like that. It makes it easier to ignore and avoid the negativity. 

Confidence restored, you feel comfortable in your skin again. The dress is a perfect fit, the struggle to breath nowhere to be found, and sits well on your frame- despite what others think. However, you have very little time to revel in your victory as your mother stalks towards you.

“What have you done?” she hisses over your shoulder. Before you even have a chance to look back at her, she drags you by your arm to the edge of the room. “What did you say this time?”

A heavy sigh pushes past your lips as you clasp your hands before you and reply, “He insulted me.”

Your mother quirks a brow. “And?” She questions as if waiting for a more substantial argument. 

“And?” You echo in confusion. “And he insulted me. I don’t see why that’s not enough of a reason to insult him back.”

She shakes her head and inhales deeply. You brace yourself for the disparaging rant you know is coming. Nothing good ever comes from a head shake and heavy sigh. But, instead of her usual ‘stay in your place’ harangue, your mother cuts to the chase this time. “Do you realize that might just be your only chance for happiness?” 

Suppressing a dry chuckle, you lower your gaze to the floor. You know your mother is well aware of how her question sounds; you know she doesn’t care. Still, you ask, “Is that really what happiness looks like, mother?”

She falls silent. After a beat, you dare to peek up at her. Those once hard eyes soften as her gaze locks on Mary and Michael, locks on how they gaze upon one another with such adoration. Blinking repeatedly, she turns to you and sighs, “Yes, to some people that,” she pauses to glance at Kyon, “is what happiness looks like.” 

A wicked pang of sad, lonely anger twists in your chest then tumbles to the pit of your stomach. Your gaze falls to the ground and heart shatters with that last shred of hope that your mother perhaps did want the best for you. Up until now, you truly believed that in some twisted way, she was just looking out for you, making sure you have someone by your side long after she’s gone. Her words now and that shameless look that matches that shameless confession only point to the painfully obvious fact you have tried so hard to ignore. Your mother’s need to make you look a certain way and throw you at any breathing man has never been for your well-being, but rather the well-being of her reputation. 

“Go to Mr. Lee, (Y/N),” she orders. “Offer to freshen his drink, wipe down his shirt, and then apologize. Beg for his forgiveness if you have to; just make this right.” 

With a deep breath, you trail your eyes back up and try to collect yourself. Your eyes flicker between the exit and where Kyon stands.Your mother clears her throat, drawing your attention back on her. 

“Have I made myself clear?” 

“Crystal.”

She returns to her friends, that gleeful smile plastered on her face once more. Your eyes fall back on Kyon with every intention of following through your mother’s orders. However, he only greets your gaze with malice. A wave of nausea overwhelms you. 

With a shake of your head, you tear yourself away from his threatening demeanour and turn towards the exit. You just need to get out of his line of sight, out of that pretentious atmosphere. Something within you can’t seem to stop telling you that one more moment near that passive-aggressive punk will only make you feel worse. So, you lengthen your strides out of the ballroom and down the hall to put as much distance between you and them. 

The pressure of their expectations suffocates you like no corset ever has. All you can think is how desperately you need some fresh air. It takes you a moment, but you navigate your way around the manor well enough to find the back entrance. 

Cold air engulfs you the moment you step outside. A relieved giggle slips past your lips and you throw your head back to relish in the cool spring breeze. The sky reflects a swirl of silvery indigo. It lures you into its constellations and wonders with every other glance. Lowering your gaze, you scan the garden before you. A cobblestone path leads all the way down to a hedged maze. You can never resist a good garden. In fact, you had helped design the one back home. You hope that when your husband-to-be comes along, he’d have a garden too and maybe you can design it together.

Realizing you can maybe hold on to a few more moments of peace if they can’t find you, you decide to follow the path and hide away within the walls of the maze. You’re halfway down the cobblestone trail when you sense a strong pull dragging your soul closer to the hedges. Picking up your pace, you follow that tug faster, soon weaving through the maze like you’ve been through it before. It’s not long before you reach the centre. 

It’s a large clearing, decorated with a variety of blooming flowers. In the middle stands a grand marble fountain. Three tiered, the fountain sprouts fresh water through the mouths of singing angels. A little smile plays on your lips as you click-clack your way towards it. The tranquil rush of the stream calms your previously erratic heart. You take a seat on the edge and stare down at the pool. It’s empty of floating flowers or little fish like the one you have at home, but still beautiful all the same. 

“Miss (L/N).”

Your eyes well up the moment his sweet voice greets your ears. A shaky breath escapes you and you turn to find him. Did he not hear your words last night? Does he not care? Or is he here to stay this time?

Sitting atop the hedges of the garden maze and out of the moon’s light, he looks just as heavenly as always. Most details of his beauty are hidden, but you can make out his long hair and the way it’s pulled back into a ponytail, leaving loose, short strands to frame his face. And those soft wings are out, spread wide behind him as he stares back at you. Shirtless, he smirks. 

You can’t help the smile stretching upon your lips at the sight of him. It’s an uncontrollable reflex, as is the wetness of your core when he’s around. He usually doesn’t arrive this early when he does show up. How long has he been there? 

Clearing your throat, however, you subside the urge to smile upon his presence. “Mr. Jeon.” His name leaves your lips in a trembling breath as your heart’s aflush with desire. You have to remind yourself that you’re upset with his disappearances.

A sweet smile takes over his features. “I’ve upset you,” he notes. 

Is this a joke to him? How many nights does he expect you to wait around for a maybe? You both know your time is worth more than that. And though you want to tell him that he’s done more than upset you, that he’s disappointed you, you confess something else instead. “I’ve missed you.”

“You know I miss you too,” he replies. 

You resist the urge to scoff. “Are you working tonight?”

He shakes his head. “I just got off actually.”

Without me? You mentally scold yourself for your dirty thought. You can’t even hold onto your anger for more than thirty seconds without having the urge to spread your legs for him. “Lucky me,” you sarcastically reply. 

“Do you like the dress?”

“I’d like it more with the gift from last night,” you glare at him. “If there was a gift from last night, that is.” 

Hopping off the edge, his wings fan out to guide him down before you with ease. Your face falls as he stands in the moonlight. Thick mud coats his muscular body and those once white wings are stained with dirt and grim. His sharp face is scratched with little scabs as well. He looks like he fell from the sky. 

“Jungkook,” you whisper as you reach out to caress his wounded cheek. 

But Jungkook can’t be any less interested in his current state. His attention does not waver off you. Those kind eyes of his scan your frame, lingering around your breasts. “It looks even better than I imagined.”

You feel as though you have to ask him if this really is a joke to him this time. He leaves you for a week with very little behind and returns only to be caked in mud and peppered with wounds and has the audacity to pretend it’s not an issue. Now, you’re upset. 

You blink back your tears, quietly asking, “What happened?”

Maybe it was the hurt in your tone or the worry flashing in your eyes but his usually cocky demeanor trembles just enough to comfort you. “It’s just been a long night, baby. I missed a couple of shots and it took a little more effort than usual to fix everything.”

Fidgeting fingers trail up the exposed side of his thick thigh under the stained toga-like skirt he wears. He shudders under your touch as your hands make their way up to his buff chest where they stay. You inhale deeply to settle your erratic heart. The earthy grim of the mud invades your senses. He doesn’t even smell like himself anymore. 

Knitting your brows together, you ask, “Are you hurt?”

Jungkook’s entire expression softens. Shaking his head, he goes to cradle your body closer to his but stops before his hands reach your waist. You can feel his desire though, to touch and be touched. It’s raw and real, and purely Jungkook. This shared desire the two of you have roots deep within your souls. It breaks your heart to think that he’s not yours anymore, and maybe you made that decision rashly, in a moment of anger. But, you both know it’s not how you feel right now. 

“I need to know your schedule,” you say in a quiet voice. He tongues his cheek, erupting your heart with a surge of want. You ignore the feeling long enough to continue, “I can’t just sit and wait, Jungkook.”

He stares down at you, eyes unreadable. You can tell that he’s mulling over your words, but have no clue how he feels about them. Finally, he cups your cheeks, staining them with dirt, and says “I need you to trust me when I say that I’m doing my best to get to you as quickly as I can, darling.”

Your heart cannot deny him when his gaze reflects such sincerity and honesty. Every ounce of trust, of belief is in him and only him. And maybe you are being selfish, but to be stranded without an explanation is heartbreaking. You know he knows that, or at least feels it in you when you think of him and pray. 

“Just tell me I’m yours again,” he whispers, “and I’ll prove to you how much I’ve missed you too.”

Is that why he’s here? He’s afraid of losing you? Biting your lip, you can’t help but lean into his touch. It was mean of you to punish him like this and make him think that you were really upset with him when in actuality, all you wanted was a little more attention. You give him an innocent look through your lashes. He does his best not to swoon, but you know him well enough now to know that the little quiver in his lips means he’s on the verge of getting on his knees. 

“No man of mine is this dirty,” you smirk, echoing the words of your first encounter. 

Jungkook smiles and this time you have to keep yourself from swooning at the sight of his dimples. “I thought that’s exactly how you like them,” he purrs as he walks you back towards the fountain. 

Heat rushes to your face. The marble edge of the fountain hits the bend of your knees but you refuse to sit down with Jungkook only inches away. His hands may still be on your face, rubbing that dirt into your cheeks, but his body is still too far away from yours. You move to take a step forward, desperate to have your body against his. However, Jungkook is quicker, most likely having read your mind, and moves back before you can even get half a step in. 

Your eyes harden at the action. Pushing his hands off your face, you quirk a brow. 

“I don’t want to ruin your dress.”

“A dress like this is meant to be ruined.”

He smirks. You can tell by the amusement dancing in his eyes that he’s enjoying the sight of you this needy and possessive. He decides to further test the limits of your composure, asking, “Don’t you have a party to get back to?”

He’s teasing. The mockery riddled in his features is enough of a hint, but the playful tone in his voice is still something you bask in. Taking a seat on the edge of the fountain, you let out a deep sigh and look up to the clouds. “A flight back home might do us both some good,” you suggest instead. “It’s not like there’s anything waiting for me at the party anyways.”

“Not even your sister?”

You shake your head. 

“Mother?”

Face folding, you suppress the urge to groan and whisper, “Oh, gods no.” 

Jungkook chuckles as he circles around the fountain. He dips his hand in the clear water, before asking, “What about Lee Kyon?”

Now, what would Jeon Jungkook know of Lee Kyon? A quick scan of his features doesn’t let you in on much besides the fact that he’s trying to draw a reaction out of you. However, what reaction is he hoping for? Is he looking for an explanation? He knows all about your mother’s habits and your relationships, or lack thereof, with mortal men. You never even have to say it; Jungkook knows there’s no one else for you but him. 

“Mr. Lee is fragile,” you sigh. 

His wings twitch. He likes what he hears. You curl in your lips to keep from smiling. Could he, Eros the god of love, lust and desire, really be jealous of an imbecile? Setting your visual tastes aside for a moment, you and Jungkook both know that Kyon, bless him, knows less than the very fountain you’re sitting on… The very fountain Jungkook is climbing into.

“What are you doing?” You ask, shooting to your feet as Jungkook makes himself comfortable. A giggle tumbles out of you, even though you tried to bite it back, at the sight of him washing himself like a bird. 

Jungkook stops for a moment, that playful gaze meeting yours. This one look is enough for you to know he’s heard, and he’s most likely still hearing your thoughts. You wish you could dip in and out of his mind too. It might put an end to all the guessing on your end. 

Continuing to splash his torso clean, he replies, “You’re sending me some mixed messages, baby. I thought you didn’t like me dirty.”

He has a point. Making your way over to him, you sit by his submerged frame on the edge of the fountain. Jungkook rubs his lips as he watches your jeweled fingers trace the curves of your cleavage. Your hand stops in the centre, just above the tied strings of your corset. You begin unlacing it when Jungkook tsks. Snapping your gaze to his, you wait for further instructions. 

“What are you doing?”

“I want to get in with you.”

“So, get in.”

You move to unlace your corset once more, but Jungkook grabs onto your wrist. Catching his darkening gaze, you furrow your brows at his tilting head. He’s gesturing for you to get in, but won’t let you take off your dress. He can’t serious think you’d get in wearing it the water is filthy with his- 

Glancing at the clear water, your thoughts are overtaken by confusion. You expected it to be tinted a dark brown from all the mud but it only reflects the marble bowl of the fountain, Jungkook’s legs, and that growing erection between them. You probably should question him on when he took that skirt off and why the water is so clean even after he went into it with layers of dirt coating his skin, but the heat between your legs is slowly growing more and more insufferable. 

Your eyes flicker back to Jungkook’s to find him already staring at you, a smirk painted on his handsome face. He pushes his tongue against his cheek once more, knowing how much you love that move, then quirks a cocky brow. Kicking off your heels, you lift your dress enough to dip each stocking covered foot into the fountain. You hiss at the sensation of the soggy socks against your feet, but power through knowing how much Jungkook loves the way they look on you. 

Your dress puffs up to the surface and you have to push it down and back to put as little space between you and Jungkook. “Your hair’s filthy,” you pout as you finally straddle his lap. 

Jungkook lets out a little sigh. You first think it’s because his cock stands right in front of your pussy, but soon realize how wrong you are. His dazed gaze wanders over your features, unsure where to stop and what to admire first. Those large hands instinctively find your thick thighs. He rubs and massages them as you untie his hair and wet your hands enough to wash some of the dirt away. You tilt his head back and lick your lips. It’s a habit you have when concentrating. Jungkook knows it well. 

“You’re absolutely beautiful,” he suddenly purrs. His voice is thick, saturated with lust and adoration. “Honestly, you don’t have to do anything, darling, just let me look at you for a little bit.” 

You freeze, hands half tangled in his mud slick hair, and gaze back down at him. Dipping your head down, your lips catch his. You’re obsessed with the lack of hesitation between the two of you. Never has Jungkook thought twice about taking you as his when the two of you are this close. No matter how long he’s gone or how upset you may feel about that, when you find each other again, it’s almost like he never left. Your souls rapture in harmony and bodies tangle indefinitely. Eternity lies in the palms of your hands every second you're together. 

“I’ve got to clean your hair,” you mutter against his lips. He only hums before kissing you again. Inhaling sharply, you let him have another sip of your breath before pulling away completely. And you realize, as you glance at his wings, that they could probably use a good scrub down too before the two of you indulge in the good fun you’ve been dying to have all week. 

Before you can vocalize this, however, Jungkook is already readjusting your shared position. He tucks his wings tight behind him and shifts the two of you around so that the stream of the fountain washes down his back. “Hurry,” he orders. There’s very little room for negotiation in his tone. His appetite for a fun night is growing too and you can’t help but smile at the eagerness you’ve triggered. 

Sticking your tongue out, you hook it under his chin and tilt his head back. Jungkook continues to gaze down at you as he gives into your gesture. “That’s hot,” he mutters. 

This is new. He never talks this much when things start to heat up. Most of the time, you’re tossed looks and expected to decipher his mood, but you’re all too caught up in how gorgeous he is, you can barely understand what he means. Everything is always based on feelings and going with your instincts. But this time, Jungkook’s more vocal. It’s almost as if he’s thinking out loud. 

His wings twitch again. You snap your gaze from his hair to his eyes and find he’s raising a brow. Didn’t you wish you could hear his thoughts too? Could this be his way of granting it to you?

“You know what I like most about you?” He asks as you continue to wash the mud from his hair. Grazing your nails through his scalp, you hum in reply. “You’re incredibly intelligent.” 

Your fingers shudder against his head. The guilt of last night returns. Your sister should be with someone who isn’t afraid of her intelligence either. You should’ve told her not to follow through with this, not to marry Michael.

Jungkook’s hands trail up to your ass, gripping onto the plump flesh. The harsh gesture snaps you back into the moment. You jump a bit and let out a little squeal as your gaze meets his. “I much rather you don’t think of other men when you’re with me,” he groans. 

Fighting off the proud smile tempting your lips, you nod. “Sorry; it won’t happen again.” 

“Better not,” he mutters and that smile finally settles on your lips. “And don’t worry about your sister. She’ll be fine.” 

A part of you wants to question him more about how he knows that, but the death grip he has on your ass and the way he’s looking at you does not leave much room for a sexless conversation. You rather your family stay out of conversations like this with Jungkook. His desire to be the only one in your thoughts makes a bit more sense to you now. 

Smiling, Jungkook inhales deeply through his nose. “You figure things out faster than most people,” he says. 

You kiss the little freckle under his lip to let him know you’re done cleaning his hair. “You spend too much time in my head,” you tease. Instead of in my…  The rest of the sentence twirls in your mind for him to find it. 

As you move to clean his right wing he chuckles and continues, “I’m serious, baby.” He kisses your neck as you stand on your knees and reach for his wing to properly clean it off. “Your mind amazes me. That’s why I spend so much time there.” 

Barriers of the mind fall. They were trembling before but now, with every whispered thought Jungkook voices, you can feel those walls of distance crumble around your inseparable bodies. You’ve always melded perfectly physically and stroked the other’s spirit by caressing your souls, but mental barriers have always halted any real conversation between you and Jungkook. He’s always been able to know your next move, your every thought because of his immortality. And to have the chance to do the same only makes you feel that much closer to him. For this reason, you hope he doesn’t regret opening up to you and giving you a little peek inside his mind. 

Your physical senses shock you back to the moment. His fingers soften their grip on your ass, rubbing it instead and your pussy reactively clenches at that pet name you love so much. Unsteadily inhaling deeply, you move to clean his other wing in silence. You decide you won’t talk this time. Your mind is open to him if he’s looking for your opinion, but tonight you just want to hear his thoughts and be the one tossing unreadable looks. 

Jungkook chuckles against your neck, rolling his shoulders back as you brush your fingers through his wings. His lips trail down to your collarbone. He kisses his way down to your breasts and buries his face between them. Breathing in your scent, he sighs happily and mutters, “This is my favourite thing.”

Your breasts? By the way his hands always settle on your ass and the fact that his first hand-delivered toy was an anal plug, you always just assumed that his favourite feature of yours must be your ass. But you suppose if your breasts-

“Actually, I was talking about the way you smell.”

“It’s called soap,” you tease, earning yourself a light spank. He then bites on your right tit, sucking on the skin just because he can. You giggle and settle yourself back on his lap. Your ass, plush and plump, all but melts over his muscular thighs. 

Jungkook stares at you. His brown eyes are vacant and lost in thought. He quiets under your gaze, only just shifting to pull you closer than you already are. Your pussy frames the length of his cock and you find it increasingly hard to stay still. Trying to read that dazed expression on his face, you wonder what happened with his devotion to thinking out loud. 

Licking his lips, Jungkook finally breaks the silence. “Twenty-three.” He leans towards you turning the two of you back around so his back is against the fountain’s edge again. “I want you in twenty-three different ways, but I don’t think we have time to do all of them.”

You swallow thickly. Grinding your hips into his, you rub your needy pussy against his throbbing erection. Jungkook’s eyes slightly roll back and he has to hold your hips down only to look at you properly again. “Can we make time?” You ask. The desperate cry for more is evident in your voice and you know that, by the quirk of his brow and the shudder of his wings, he’s having trouble saying no. 

“I wish,” he confesses. “My favourite ones take time.” 

His fingers dig into your ass again, hinting at what his favourite positions might be. It’s no surprise that it has to do with your ass, you’re just worried that he’s going to ask for more than you’re ready for. Yes, you may have gotten used to anal plugs over time since he knows how to prep you for them, but his cock is an entirely different game. You are constantly reminded of how those other toys really are just toys because his cock is that uncomparable. 

Jungkook relaxes back against the marble wall and watches you as you salivate over the size of his cock. He doesn’t need to read your mind to know you're terrified of whatever pain may come with it but excited because you’re just that much of a whore for him. 

“You know you don’t have to do it. I have lots of other favourites,” he smirks. 

As your thoughts trail off, he bucks his hips into yours. You breathe moan and clutch onto his shoulders. Every little movement makes you ache for more. A week without a single bit of sexual stimulation, even by yourself, is too long. He never told you that you couldn’t play around alone anymore, but when you have him, why the hell would you play with yourself? You know he’s going to come every night, or at least you hope he is. And the truth is, one he must already know judging by the pleased look in his eyes, even if he had told you he wasn’t coming, you still wouldn’t have touched yourself. Nothing can compare to his touch; you don’t need to try anything else to know this.

A shaky breath escapes Jungkook at your next mental confession. You don't think you were ever really mad at him. You just knew that acting out would get him to come tonight. Jungkook scoffs, looking up at the darkening sky as you wrap your arms around his neck. 

Are you even really sorry? His eyes dart to yours as if wanting to see for himself if your thoughts are true. You don't know if you can answer this question with his eyes on you like that. But, that conclusion seems to be enough of an answer for him. 

He shakes his head and wraps his arms around your waist. Pouting, he asks, “Do you know how worried I was?”

You mirror his expression, drawing a pout in your features as well, and press your chest against his. His breath hitches and body melts into yours, betraying his intentions. Noticing his struggle to stay upset with you, you pepper wet kisses under his chin and along his jawline. 

Jungkook can’t resist you for much longer. He whimpers as his hips grind into yours. Bending at your every touch, he unravels beneath you. A giddy smile breaks your pouty features and it’s only then that he seems to realize how much he’s let himself go in front of you. His grip on your hips hardens. As you kiss up his face, you find his lust-stuck eyes dark with dominance. He hates being vulnerable to your touch this much.

“No, baby,” he rasps. You quirk a brow. “I hate how drunk you get off the power.” 

A proud smirk twitches on the corner of your lips, confirming his words. You’ve barely had taste for the power he’s accusing you of getting drunk off of. However, the fact that you’re able to control him so well with such a small dose fills your heart with pride. 

“You’re getting ahead of yourself.”

“I am?”

There’s a certain cocky pitch in your tone that rings sharply to his ears. His brows twitch, wings flutter, and gaze wavers. He may have been able to look past your exaggerations of dismissal and the way you tease him, but to speak to him with very little regard for his power unleashes something primal within him. You can always tell you’ve really pissed him off when he pouts, clenches his jaw, and breathes so steadily, you can barely hear him. 

Jungkook watches you carefully. “One week without my dick and suddenly you think you own it?” 

“Don’t I?”

A sharp smack lands on your ass. The slow draft of the water does not slow his hands down. In fact, it only increases the sting and accuracy. You gasp and fall forward against him only to be spanked again. Another moan leaves you, this time with your lips hovering over his. Exchanging breathes, a dangerous thought occurs to you. Your lips are over his. What’s to stop you from spit-

He growls. You tremble against him. The purely thunderous rumble in his chest rattles your soul. “I fucking dare you,” he hisses.

Though you want to heed his warning, you can’t help but notice how he keeps his mouth open despite his disapproval. You gather what you have in your mouth and pause for a moment, knowing that he knows what you’re about to do. His mouth remains open. You drop the wad of spit it without a second thought. 

Jungkook swallows it almost immediately. “You’re going to regret that,” he breathes. 

“I highly doubt that,” you smirk.

The cocky persona you seemed to have picked up from him crumbles when his middle finger pushes between your cheeks and circles your tightest hole. His words about his favourite ways to fuck you return to you in distant echoes. You arch your back and push your ass into his hand. His finger threatens to slip in. 

“You’re barely ready,” he scoffs.

Do you harbour reservations based on fears that he just might be too big to fit in your ass? Of course you do; he’s huge. A fact of which he can’t help but always smirk at when you point it out. But, you’re hungry for him and you know that he would never do anything to hurt you. Letting out a shaky breath, you affirm, “I can take it.”

“You aren’t wet enough.”

“Then, change that.”

The continuous authority that drips in your tone has tested his patience for the last time. Reaching a hand out of the fountain, Jungkook grabs for something on the ground. You try to lean over him and sneak a peek at what he’s looking for, but the friction of your clit against his length has you shuddering back in place. 

A little smile breaks Jungkook’s previously callous expression. He pecks your neck and laughs quietly against your skin as he mutters, “You’re adorable.” 

Heat rushes down to your core instead of your face at the little praise. You lean down to press a gentle kiss to his lips when you catch a glimpse of something gold in your peripherals. Glancing up, you find him clutching onto his bow. Before you have the chance to ask what he’s planning, Jungkook only just drops the tip of his bow in to break the surface of the water. A misty rose gold tints the clarity. Little flicks of sparkling gold twinkle back at you as you watch the fountain filter the essence all around you. 

You cautiously meet gaze. He always confirms new things with you before acting on anything, no matter how mad or horny he is. His rash decision to spike the fountain with an unknown substance chills your blood for a second. You start to shift back from him a bit when he breaks the silence. 

“It’s just a lubricant,” he quickly explains. A relieved breath, you didn’t realize you were holding, leaves you. Shifting back against him, you nudge your nose against his. “Sex is a bit different underwater, baby, and I don’t have time to get you as ready as you need to be.” 

A gentle nibble on his lip is all it takes for the rush of the fountain to be the only sound in the silence that settles upon you. His hands guide your hips against his, the fiction much smoother now with that hint of lubrication swirling around. You run a hand through his hand and tug his head back to be greeted with the sweet rumble of his laughter. You can’t help but giggle with him as you place soft kisses along the side of his neck. 

Jungkook quietly moans in little whines and breathless gasps. Every shudder of his wings and furrow of his brows makes you want to rip your dress off and be just as naked and against him. But, then again, there’s something powerful to the taste of being fully clothed and still destroying a man’s composure. You barely have to do anything and Jungkook bends to your every will. You can now understand why he believes you’re so drunk on power, but the truth is you always had this power. He knows this, most likely wanting you to realize it too if he’s the one that suggested you stay clothed. The only difference now is that he’s openly displaying the ways you unravel him rather than keeping it to himself. 

“Do you see what I mean now?” He asks in a breathless whisper. You trail your kiss up to his cheek and moan against it as he continues, “You’re so smart and beautiful and precious.” 

Jungkook pauses, stilling your hips and pulling his face away from yours to look into your eyes. He parts his lips to speak but his words keep falling short somehow. 

His words so far have already ignited an untamable fire not only between your legs, but within your bones as well. He is drenched in every part of you. Shifting to a softer touch, you untangle your fingers from his damp hair and cup his cheeks the same way he had done to you not too long ago. “Go on,” you tease, tossing him a playful look. 

He doesn’t smile, doesn’t even smirk. His eyes, though hinted with amusement, continue to be lost in some sort of trance. He knows you’re curious, but keeps this little bit of thought to himself. Lifting your hips, he hovers your entrance over his erection and finally smirks. 

“Beg a little,” he orders. Though his voice barely carries to the other side of the fountain, the authority in his tone is still as clear and hard as it always is.

Your power trip must have really messed with him if he’s having you beg without giving you a good reason to. An annoyed sigh fans against your collarbone as your body continues to hover over his. “Don’t play,” he rasps, “You know that’s not it. I can hear the truth before the lie, darling.”

That’s an unfair advantage but one you don’t mind too much if it means he talks to you like this all the time. He’s right too. You know that’s not what’s got him eager to hear you beg. It’s the way you beg that’s got him eager to fuck you. Clenching around emptiness, needy to be filled and ruined, you whine a tiny “please,” then a string of profanities as his tip strokes its way to your entrance from your clit. 

“Again.”

Back arched, breasts against his bare chest, and hands clutched onto his biceps, you place your lips on the shell of his ear and blow a gentle breeze against it. “Please,” you mewl. 

Jungkook’s hands tremble and he all but drops you on his cock. Pussy in an instant stretch, with very little room to adjust, you cry out in his ear. Though your voice may be broken and pitchy, Jungkook doesn’t flinch. When it comes to you, the usual results never qualify. You are one of a kind, as unique as him. 

His muscles flex under your palms. Hands finding their place on your ass again, Jungkook guides your thrusts. He can practically feel your weakening body with every bounce and grind against him. You know he can. He shows it in every tightening grip on your ass and grunt in his moans. 

The knot in your stomach is already twisting, conspiring against your better judgement on how long you think you can last. You’ve never been able to outlast him, cumming twice before he finally reaches his first orgasm of the night. He’s just so big and hits those right places way before the rest of him can catch up. How he manages to brush up against your softest spots within the first three thrusts will always be beyond your comprehension. He’s just that good. 

The choked moan that leaves him resembles a chuckle. A frustrated whine escapes you. Is he still listening to your thoughts? It’s not like you’re thinking anything he already hasn’t heard you say, or rather scream, but it still somewhat embrassasses you to know that he will always hear how whipped you are for him. 

“Tell me,” you plead with your lips pressed just under his ear. “Tell me what you’re thinking.” 

The sparkling water around you begins to splash out of the fountain bowl as Jungkook speeds up the pace of your bounces. Deciding your ass seems to be too much of a distraction to him, you pause mid-thrust and move his hands up to your hips. A shuddering gasp escapes him as you carry on with the bounces at his same pace. Your ass claps in and out of the water, thrashing water all around the ground. 

Jungkook digs his short nails into the flesh of your hips, growling every time you whine at his tightening grip. Forehead against his, you catch his gaze and offer an innocent one. “I’m-” he cuts himself off, realizing how breathless and dazed he sounds. You nuzzle your face into his as a silent attempt to encourage him to continue. “Kiss me,” he begs. 

If you weren’t stuffed full of his cock and extremely enchanted by the way he pretends to sound composed, you would’ve refused to kiss him and insisted that he finish that sentence. And that knot in the pit of your gut only tightens with the grip of your pussy. Pressing your lips against his, you slip your tongue in and let him swallow your moans. 

The moment his tongue tackles yours, your legs quake. Thrusts hesitating, your body begins to spasm against his. Your hands grapple at his shoulder just to ensure you stay a float as your threatening orgasm continues to build. 

“Jungk-” You break the kiss to tell him, to ask as he has taught you over and over again. 

But Jungkook only latches his lips onto yours once more. You gulp down a moan or two of his before he hisses against your lips, “Just fucking cum. Now, kiss me.”

You may have been drunk off power not too long ago, but as you kiss him again, you realize that he is drunk off you. And that’s all it takes for your ograsm to finally rush over you. Jungkook lifts his hips up to meet your stuttering ones. Your lips fall off his. Face buried in the crook of his neck, you cry out his name and cream all over his cock. 

“I’m thinking you’re such a good girl for cumming like this,” he suddenly whispers as you ride out your orgasm. Even with your ears ringing and mind shuddering from the second wave of cum gushing all over his hard, huge cock, you can still hear every dirty praise clearly. “My whore got herself off so well.”

The whine that escapes you from his words alone is borderline pornographic. Jungkook even feels it, arching his back so his chest collides with yours as well. “You’re so sexy,” he whimpers as you babble fountain water by his shoulder from exhaustion. 

Wet, wet, wet; everything is wet. You’re both drenched in lube tinted waters, cum, and your desires. You can’t revel in it though, as the skirts of your dress float the surface and corset clings to your chest all too tightly. You can barely find it in you to breathe, let alone tell him that you need a quick break. 

“No,” he groans, settling you on his thighs. Circling his hips into yours, Jungkook grips onto the nape of your neck to peel you off him. 

Your heart stumbles as your mind races to figure out what you’ve done that was so wrong, he’s wanting to stop the night here. “I’m sorr-”

“You don’t need a break,” he sighs between moans. He sits himself up, his wings extending only to drape over the lip of the fountain’s bowl. All movements underwater cease as he digs his fingers into the bust of your corset. In one swift motion, Jungkook tears the first few laces apart, instantly sending a full batch of oxygen to your lungs. 

Gasping, you gaze down at your torn dress before glaring at him. Maybe with just a wet dress, you could have explained your way out of whatever mess this is going to get you in when you attempt to return to the party. However, a torn dress will not be that easy to explain. You want to glare at him and tell him off but he shoves his face between your now exposed breasts and moans before you’re able to. 

He moves your hands up his shoulders so your arms drape over them, then settles them on his favourite place; your ass. Two of his fingers push between your cheeks and stroke your hole. His touch there is much smoother than before and you suspect that it must be the bow-tipped lube. 

You moan quietly, resting your chin atop his damp head as he kisses and bites at your breasts. Your pussy still hasn’t recovered from your orgasm seconds ago. In fact, truth be told, your entire body is having trouble recuperating after cumming that hard in a week. But you want more of him and he still hasn’t filled you of his godly load yet. And with his fingers circling around your asshole, you can’t deny him the second ride he’s patiently waiting for. 

A slow grind of hips into hips is a good start, you tell yourself. You’ve never really had to deal with this before, since Jungkook would usually just keep pounding into you despite the fact that he knows your limbs are exhausted from one orgasm already. Clenching your jaw, you start to bounce again, ass clapping against his thighs in suppressed thumps underwater. The overstimulated pleasure brings tears to your eyes. You cry out his name and hold onto his wings. 

He groans against your right breast from the contact. You’re about to apologize, knowing his wings are sensitive, when he shoves his fingers into your tightest hole. You freeze and throw your head back from how easily he slipped in and how fucking good it feels. Jungkook scissors his fingers within you, peeking a glance up from between your breasts. 

“Are you okay, baby?” he slurs. He licks up the valley of your breasts, holding your gaze shamelessly. 

“Mhm,” you mewl. 

Resuming your thrusts, you feel your tears run down your face freely. You don’t even have it in you to wipe them away. Your hands, instead, centre around his back. You scratch at it for a bit until you feel him add a finger. Moans tumble into his wet hair as your fingers trail up the length of his spine. 

Jungkook stiffens. A choked groan tears from his throat and he hides his face further into your breasts. They bounce around his cheeks with each hop on his cock. Too consumed by your own overstimulated pleasure to dwell much thought on his movements, or lack thereof, you mindlessly repeat the action. You stroke his spine once more and then you hear it. 

He sobs a moan.

You still your hips, looking down at him. As you run a hand through his hair, you’re about to ask if he’s okay when the whooshing flutter of wings obscures your vision. One second, you’re straddling his lap with his fingers in your ass. The next, you’re the one submerged in the water with him hovering over you. Wings fully extended, face stained with tears, Jungkook makes sure your arms are resting over his shoulders like before then takes up a deadly speed of thrusts into you. 

His speed defies the laws of physics, hips moving much faster than they should underwater. Half the fountain is on the ground from the force of his movement. All you can do is sob with him as your body becomes his only source of pleasure. 

What’s gotten into him? He doesn’t even have an interest in your ass anymore, hands locked in a death-like grip on your hips. In a moment of pure animalistic pleasure, you just wish you knew what’s running through his head. 

“You,” he growls in a pout. “You’re all I think about, you fucking whore. You’re all I can ever think about.” He swallows thickly before continuing, “You can’t go one second without thinking of me and now all I can hear is your voice. All the time; it’s you, you, you.”

You don’t know if you should apologize or cum from the simple confession alone. His voice, his words, his entire fucking attitude has you aching to cum all over again. 

Jungkook stumbles over his chuckles. “You just love seeing me like this, huh? You love seeing me worship you, baby?” 

Worship. Does he want you to cum that badly that he’s willing to lie? You both know he doesn’t worshi-

A sharp thrust derails your thoughts. Your eyes roll back as you moan out his name. 

“You’re my goddess,” he confesses. “You’re my only goddess.”

He repeats the phrase over and over again until that’s all that rings in your ear, in your heart, in your soul. His release paints your tightening walls. The knots within your gut have unraveled long ago and it’s only when your blurred vision somewhat clears and convulsing body trickles into tremors do you realize that you’ve both cum together to the words he’s still repeating. 

Voice a tiny, gruff whisper, Jungkook whispers, “My goddess.”

He’s serious. He must be. He truly worships you. The tears in his eyes, the break in his voice, the truth is clear and just as starkly bare as he is between your legs. His eyes suddenly flash with worry, almost as if he’s recognized what he’s said. He meant what he said, you realize, but he never meant to say it. 

Jungkook gingerly pulls out of you as you try to seat yourself up. You pull your legs into your chest and watch him take a seat beside you. He leans his head back against the rim of the fountain and gazes up at the sky. You follow his gaze, noticing it’s gotten much darker out, the silver stream of stars piercing an indigo backdrop no more. A midnight black cloaks the world above you, a crescent moon lighting up your night and an array of stars twinkling down at you. Though your mind is still foggy from your recent orgasms, body still shuddering, you can’t help but think about his words. What makes him think you belong up there, amongst true gods and goddesses? 

His wings twitch as they tuck themselves behind him. You know that combination well. He’s hiding something. Usually, you don’t ask, knowing he will only deflect the topic and shower you with attention and praises instead. But, his spoken thoughts are now looping around your mind, begging to be answered. 

“Jungkook,” you mutter, shifting closer to him. Face still stained with tears, he forces himself to look at you. The questions are on the tip of your tongue; what, why, when? However, as you part your lips all you can bring yourself to say is, “I didn’t hear anything.”

You’re my goddess. 

The words return with ten times the force they previously held. It’s almost like denying their existence is just as blasphemous as saying them. You swallow thickly and try to extract the words from your mind, but it's too late. They are as entrenched in your bones as your affection for him is. There is no undoing what has been done. 

You bring a hand up to his face and wipe away the stray tears. He melts into you almost immediately. Maybe it’s best if you return to the party now. You can make up some excuse as to why you’re drenched and torn on your way there. Jungkook’s state is all but worrying and you feel as though you shouldn’t be witnessing this. 

“I’m not done with you yet,” he finally says. His voice has regained composure and tone controlled. No more does he choke on his words or laughter. The authority he indirectly bestowed upon you has been returned to him. 

You should tell him you’re done, that he shouldn’t say things he doesn’t mean to. You should tell him that he shouldn’t play with your feelings or your heart like this. But, again, the words wither away the moment you part your lips to voice them. And, instead, you ask, “How do you want me?”

Jungkook smirks. His hands snake around your hips and lift you up onto his lap. Back to his chest, you make yourself comfortable, leaning into him. He pushes the excess fabric of your dress aside just to get you as close as possible. Then, you feel it against your ass, pushing its way between your cheeks. His erection is just as hard as when you started. It’s no wonder why he’s not done with you yet. You suppose he didn’t just confess something he can’t take back only to still leave with a full hard-on. 

“I thought you didn’t hear anything,” he whispers in your ear as his hands cup the underside of your thighs. 

You nervously look at him over your shoulder. “I didn’t.”

He chews on your earlobe, warm tongue caressing your jaw. “I should stop thinking about it,” he whimpers against your skin. “I should stop thinking about you.”

I’m not a goddess, you want to tell him. But, by the way he sucks in a sharp breath, you can tell he’s heard and isn’t impressed. He opens his mouth to say something, maybe to scold you for degrading yourself, or to correct you. The words never arrive. 

Jungkook shakily exhales. No more trips into his thoughts it would seem. He remains silent as he spreads your legs and swiftly lifts you up. You expect another harsh round into your pussy but his tip shoves its way through your asshole instead. Throwing your head back, you try to suppress your scream by holding your breath. 

It doesn’t hurt as much as it usually does during the first initial thrust of a toy. Whatever he tinted the water with must be the result of a smooth entrance, and a deliciously blissful stretch. You let out a breath you held, along with a loud, high-pitched squeal. Jungkook folds you up well, holding the bend of each knee into your chest as he continues to slowly lower you onto him. 

Once you finally take him all in, you settle your entire body back into him. Shuddering breaths, drifting eyes, you hold him deep within you and try not to completely lose yourself in a fit of moans and pleads. You don’t even know what you’d be begging for, just that a string of “pleases” will leave you. 

Are you getting bigger, you mentally ask. 

He chuckles and shakes his head as his nose nuzzles into your cheeks. He can’t get enough. Inhaling you deeply, you realize that he can’t get enough of you. He even said so in so many words. And you don’t have much of a problem with that considering you can’t ever get enough of him either. You’ve consumed all of his thoughts it would seem and he’s even lost himself to you so much so that he’s declared you his one and only god-

“Fuck!” 

The stream of the fountain rushes down on your clit. He holds you straight beneath it as his hips move up and down against your ass. You’re at his total mercy, every thought of ever being in control a complete joke. You rest your head against his shoulders, trembling hands placed over his as a desperate attempt to control yourself.

Your first water wave induced orgasm hits you within seconds. You don’t know for sure, but you’re all but certain that you’re cumming. Your eyes have been screwed shut for a while, and body shaking since this endeavor in the fountain began. Only when you try to close your legs do you confirm that you indeed came.

Jungkook keeps them open though. He ignores your pathetic scratches on his knuckles as you try to explain to him that it’s all just too fucking much for you to take. “Just let me cum,” he tries to soothe between little hushes and murmurs about how good you’re taking his cock. 

But then your second orgasm from the fountain hits and you can’t stop squirming in his hold. He keeps you folded and under the water’s subjection nonetheless, somehow even cooling the temperature down. As you shiver under the cold rush, Jungkook positions you higher against him so that the water pours into you instead. You realize, pussy clean of his cum now, that you’re getting fucked by a fountain; a fountain that he controls. And you fucking love it. 

Then, there’s the fullness of your ass. Every inch of you is his. If you’re his goddess, he must know that he’s your god. Your one and only. 

“Careful,” he warns against your thoughts. 

You have an assful of his cock in you, getting off more times than you can both count in a fountain that does not belong to either of you; when have the two of you ever been careful? In fact, your recklessness is what brought you together. Had he not seen you on your balcony every night, he might not be here at all. Carelessness runs in your veins, laced in your tone as you cry out, “You’re my god!”

The clouds rumble above you. The heavens can warn all they want. Interrupting sexual endeavors would do them more harm than it would do you. 

“If you want to cum, you’ll behave,” Jungkook hisses. His thrusts suddenly snap into something primal. 

Your body bounces every time, water rushing down your clit once more. This time you feel your orgasm build, and fast. Toes curling, eyes rolling to the back of your head, you hold onto every twisting, clenching knot at the pit of your stomach. 

“Ask!”

“Please?”

A particular ram into your ass lets you know that half-hearted plea won’t get you very far. He doesn’t deign to repeat himself. Instead, he lets his harsh movements and bone-rattling growls speak for him. 

“Please let me cum, Jungkook, please.”

“Again.”

“Please, please, please, Jungkook.”

He doesn’t say it. But you feel it. You feel the approval in the form of a gentle kiss against your ear. Hips a craze, rolling against the wave, you clench your jaw and try to channel all your pleasure in a high-pitched moan rather than the cry your lungs are desperate to let out. Your cum gushes then, juices squirt seconds later. Entire body on fire, under the scrutiny of the stream as you try and fail to recollect yourself. You’re shattered, ruined, obliterated by his cock and this fountain of fantasies. 

“That’s a good girl,” he coos. “That’s my good girl.”

His. His. Gods, the things you would do to be his always, not just under the cover of the night. Jungkook releases your legs, wrapping his arms around your waist as he grounds your ass over his hips. Load after load shoots within you, making your giggle and shake with ecstasy at the filling sensation of being stuffed so well. 

“Ah-yah, baby,” he groans in a scowl against your jawline. “You’ve got the tightest little hole for me, hmm? If you weren’t so exhausted, I’d have us do this all over again.”

Exhaustion. Yes, that’s what you’re feeling. With your mind foggy and broken from the countless orgasms he’s sent through you, you can barely find it in you to breathe, let alone think to go for another round. Your body’s only excuse for staying afloat is the winged god behind you. He clutches onto you as if his only reason for surviving is you. And judging by his previous confession, that very well might be the case. 

Jungkook rests back against the fountain’s edge once he’s done. Gasping for air, he continues to hold onto you, kissing your shoulder mindlessly. “I never really know how much I miss you until I have you,” he whispers. His teeth graze your supple skin. 

Body limp, you can’t find it in you to reply. All you can think is after he pulls out, he’s going to fly back to Gods know where and leave you to hobble back to the party alone. After all, isn’t that how every night ends? You two share a passionate few moments, both have out of body experiences when orgasming, then you fall asleep and he sneaks away. What’s to say this night won’t be any different?

“I thought I told you to trust me?”

“I do.”

He scoffs. You don’t blame him. Your words are hardly convincing. It has nothing to do with the fact that you just came five or six different times. It’s the lack of commitment in your tone that tips him off. You hear it too. You really do trust him. He’s just let you down too many times to count. 

“What more do I need to do? I’m with you every chance I get.” 

Exhaustion. It’s not a physical one, not the one you’re still recovering from. It’s one of the mind. He’s exhausted with this back and forth. You are too. This isn’t exactly what you thought your first relationship would look like. 

He pauses, body freezing beneath you. 

Oh, right. He’s in your mind. He heard that. Is that not what this is, though? Isn’t this a relationship?

“Say it.”

“What?”

“Say it,” You repeat, looking at him over your shoulder. 

Jungkook starts to soften in you. You’ve really set him off now. He lifts you up and off his cock, sitting you on his thigh and ignoring the way you hiss and whine at the discomfort. You turn to glare at him over your shoulder only to find him already glaring at you. 

“Do you want me to come back?”

Is he threatening you? “Do I have to remind you who came here begging-”

“You lied!” He cuts you off with a shout. 

“You knew that, though. You knew I was lying,” you point out, a pout starting to overtake your features. “You came because you missed me.”

“That’s never been a secret.”

“Say it then, Jungkook. Say this is a relationship.”

He falls silent. His once annoyed eyes can’t even meet yours. 

“I know you’re jealous of Lee Ky-”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he scoffs. Shaking his head, he forces himself to meet your gaze. 

Sad tears vary drastically from blissful ones. Tears of bliss soothe the pleasure and make it bearable. Tears of sadness sting your eyes, pierce your heart and shed any part of you that can make such a situation bearable. Sad tears only remind you of your pain. 

Your eyes sting with despair as he regards you with such frustration. Emptying your mind, discarding all thoughts, you ask, “Are you coming tomorrow?”

Jungkook sighs, but not a beat of hesitance affects his answer. “Of course.”

You raise a brow. See?

“Fine. This is a relationship,” he mutters. “What does that change?”

Nothing. It hasn’t changed a thing. You don’t even feel any different, any better. Maybe it’s because you forced it out of him? You don’t know. The tears only fall faster though, and you can’t bear to look at him. Your heart’s conflicted, shattered and replaced all at once because, though he is the cause of your tears, his presence is also the only thing soothing them. You wrap your arms around his neck and rest your temple over his. 

You can at least relish in his company for a few moments longer. And his scent, that intoxicating waft of creamy coconut and sweet peony orchards returns now that all that mud and grime has been washed off. The scent is comforting enough for you to relax in his arms and forget your pain for a second. 

“That’s not what I smell like,” he whispers. You tilt your head away to get a better look at him. A little smirk tugs on the corner of his lip as he says, “It’s what you smell like.”

Impossible. He’s always smelled like at the end of every night. You’d cuddle into his chest and inhale a breathful of the tropical scent. How could that be what you smell like if he reeks of it? The knowing look in his eyes is enough of a hint for you to realize you know the answer. He’s dripping with your essence every night because he spent the night in you. You wonder if you smell like him too. 

He sighs, circling his arms lazily around your waist. He deeply inhales your skin, smiling against it, but doesn’t answer your mentally posed question. Damp hair clinging to the sides of your faces, you settle in the other’s company. One of his hands rises from the water and wipes away your tears. As you sniffle, he whispers, “I promise I’m-”

“Doing the best you can,” you croak, finishing his sentence with him. 

Yes, yes. You’ve heard it all before. You don’t think he’s lying, your Eros is no liar. You do believe that he is, in fact, doing the best he can. But if his best is only a few hours every night, you’re not sure you can accept that. And, yet, you also can’t find it in you to truly, with all your heart, reject it as well. 

He needs to prove his devotion to you in another way. A risky thought then tiptoes into your mind. Gulping down the lump in your throat, you take a deep breath and ask, “Could you do me a tiny favour?”

Jungkook’s hesitant to meet your gaze. He glances at you through his peripherals, otherwise keeping his gaze locked on your breasts. Whether he’s trying to distract himself or not, you still push them out a bit in hopes that they will grant you the “yes” you’re hoping to hear.

He nods. 

With a little kiss upon his cheek, you stroke his shoulder with the soft tips of your fingers and ask, “Would you please escort me to my sister’s wedding?”

He turns his head away from you. Staring across at the other side of the garden, Jungkook withdraws from you. His hands fall off your frame as he heavily sighs. You press yourself against him, trying to regain his attention but he only shakes his head. 

“Acting cute won’t make this any easier,” he grumbles. 

You huff and slouch against him. “How about just the rehearsal dinner?” You try to negotiate. When he rolls his eyes, you quickly add, “I’ll be stuck with Kyon and honestly I don’t think I handle another minute of his incorrect reilieration about history.” 

Jungkook snaps his head towards you at the mention of another man. You cock a brow to which he only scoffs at. “You’re being obnoxious,” he seethes. “And unbelievably selfish.”

“So?” you question before you can stop yourself. His words sting, slicing through your confidence all too easily. There isn’t much room for thinking and even if there was, he would be listening to them anyways. So, you might as well say what you want out loud. “Was it not selfish of you to make me wait-”

“For fuck’s sake,” he mutters under his breath. “I’m not going to repeat myself, (Y/N). You can’t keep telling me that you trust me only to keep bringing this up. I was busy. You had to wait. It didn’t kill you.” 

Your tears have returned. He rolls his eyes at the sight. Whatever remnants of your heart you thought you had has been obliviated. “You make me feel so loved,” you whisper as your hands retract from his body. 

Jungkook’s expression disarms all hostility. His eyes reflect regret but you’ve heard, seen all you need to. 

“But why do you only make me feel this way when we’re naked?”

“You’re not naked,” he’s quick to reply. 

It’s your turn to scoff. How can a god be this dense? “Aren’t I, though? Tell me, Jeon Jungkook, whose thoughts are open for the other to hear? Who is the one waiting, praying for the other’s attention? Who has been bare since first glance on the stupid balcony you left last night?”

Before he couldn’t meet your eye out of disinterest, but now he avoids your gaze out of guilt. Yes, you’ve been obnoxious, selfish, maybe even a little entitled. However, you’ve had a god to yourself for months. You’ve had endless moments of ecstasy that only end in soft cuddles and whispered sweet nothings into the night. Is wanting that attention when the sun hasn’t set yet too much to ask? 

Jungkook parts his lips to reply when his eyes suddenly shoot up. He sits up, almost knocking you off his lap and snaps his head towards the very pathway you came from. 

“(Y/N)!” 

You gasp upon hearing your mother’s voice. The clicks of her heels draw further towards you and before you can look at Jungkook and ask what you should do, what you should say, you’re thrown into the fountain. 

Ice cold waves engulf you as you inhale a good chunk of the fountain. Your lungs burn from the accidental intake of water. You only just get your hands under you and sit yourself up and out of the water as quickly as you can. Familiar shouts ring in the distance. Coughing up the fountain, you push your hair back and look around the garden. 

Your mother is staring at you in utter shock, screaming at you to come out but refusing to help you herself. As you try to lift yourself up, you find the water has returned to its usual clarity and that Jungkook is nowhere to be found. He seriously left you to almost drown in the fountain by yourself? He’d be lucky to get more than a kiss from your tomorrow night. You can’t believe he has the audacity to yell at you then let you there like that. In a fit of anger, you send a lashing string after lashing string of profanities to him in the form of a prayer. 

“Miss (L/N)!”

Your blood chills. Hands on the lip of the fountain, you turn towards his voice. Fully dressed in a dark blue suit, his wings nowhere to be found, and dry hair pulled back a neat ponytail, Jungkook rushes over to you. His strong hands settle on your waist before he effortlessly scoops you out.

All you can do is stare. Mouth agape, eyes vacant, you try to figure out why the hell he made himself all presentable and left you looking like a mess. You want to whisper your profanities and swear that he will never touch your ass for leaving you in such a mess, but all you can find yourself saying is, “Mr. Jeon.”

His eyes shoot to the sky as your mother rushes towards you. Nothing is making sense and you only wish you can read his mind to know what to do next. 

“Goodness, (Y/N),” your mother hisses as she rushes towards you. “Cover yourself!”

Looking down at your bust, you gasp. Oh, right, he tore it. Crossing your arms over your chest, you look up at him and glare. But Jungkook only takes off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders. It’s only when you feel your mother’s arms around you do you realize that you’re shivering. 

“What have you done to yourself now?” she whispers in your ear. 

Her eyes then settle on Jungkook. That look graces her face. That look of assessment. She’s scanning the unknown god up and down, looking for signs of wealth, status, and reliability. It doesn’t take her long to innocently smile and fall victim to his beauty, “Thank you kindly, Mr. Jeon.”

He bows his head then turns to you and says, “I told you not to sit on the edge.” Jungkook fakes a polished chuckle. He shakes his head at you when your eyes narrow at him. “I told her, Mrs. (L/N), I told her the marble is slippery. But, Miss (L/N) just had to get a better look at those flowers.”

You glance back at the fountain with your mother, finding an array of tiger lilies floating in the bowl. All this trouble to explain why you’re wet? You look back at him cautiously and wonder what the end of this conversation is meant to look like. 

“Yes, she loves flowers,” your mother sighs. She then sets her sights on Jungkook once more and asks, “Jeon… I’m not sure I know of the Jeons. Are you from out of town?”

Jungkook charms your mother instantly with that kind, toothy smile of his. He nods and compliments her quick wits, to which she laughs, then explains, “I’m visiting for the wedding.”

The wedding? Does that mean?

“Miss (L/N) invited me. I’m rather glad to have run into you, Mrs. (L/N) as I was hoping to ask permission to escort your daughter to the wedding.”

One of your hands, previously covering your right breast, shoots up to cover your mouth out of utter shock. Did he orchestrate all this just to agree to your favour? You hope you haven’t guilted him into it. You’ve done that to get him here and admit to your relationship; you already regret doing that. You just hope he’s acting on his own accord right now. 

Jungkook shoots you a wink as your mother fixes the jacket so that your uncovered breast is concealed once more. Sighing of relief, you offer him a grateful smile. 

“Are you sure?” Your mother suddenly asks, looking back to Jungkook. “(Y/N) is the one you want to escort?”

He glances at you and smiles. “Miss (L/N) the one and only thing I’m always sure about.”

Your mother raises a brow at you. She smells something fishy, knows something is off about this entire encounter. You watch her carefully as she looks between you and Jungkook. And when you expect her to refuse, to lecture you in front of him, your mother adopts an opposite approach. She smiles upon the two of you and shifts you closer to Jungkook. 

“I would be delighted to have you escort my daughter, Mr. Jeon,” she beams. “Do you mind walking (Y/N) to the carriages? I cannot let her go back and drip all over the Barbury’s rugs.” 

Jungkook offers you his elbow, returning your mother’s smile. “It would be my pleasure.” 

You stumble towards Jungkook, your mother practically pushing you into him. With a shaky hand, you take his arm and let him guide you out of the maze. After a turn or two within the tall hedges, you part your lips to ask him what he thinks he’s doing. 

However, Jungkook fills the silence before you can. “I’ll buy you an entire bouquet of lilies, darling. Just promise me to never fall into a fountain again,” he laughs, exaggerating the volume of his voice. 

This time, you pick up on his hints and realize that your mother must still be close by if he’s still putting up such an act. “I promise it won’t happen again, Mr. Jeon,” you innocently reply. 

A smirk, you know is real, graces his features. He walks you around the manor and to the front of the house before breaking out of this noble character of his. “I think she bought it. Your mother is a very suspicious woman.”

You scoff. “That’s just one of many titles she holds,” you mumble under your breath. As you walk towards your family’s carriage, you can’t help but ask, “Why did you do that?”

Jungkook stops you before the door and takes both your hands in his. Those amused eyes linger around your exposed breasts. He chuckles a bit at the way you arch your back to keep them there, making you giggle along with him. 

“Are you happy?”

You pause. Is that why he did this? To make you happy?

“Are you?”

He gives you a pointed look. “Answer the question, (Y/N).”

“Are you just doing this to make me happy, Jungkook?” You ask instead. “Because I will go back to her and tell her that we were both in that fountain and-”

“So what if I am?” He cuts you off. “I want you to be happy, (Y/N). Why is that so wrong?”

It’s not. There’s nothing wrong with him wanting you to be happy. But you want him to be happy with his decision. You’ve forced him into admitting things and meeting you. You don’t want to force him into this too. You want him to want to take you, to want to be with you. That is what true happiness is to you. It’s Jungkook unconditionally wanting you the way you unconditionally want him. 

Jungkook cups your face. Leaning his forehead against yours, he whispers, “I’m sorry I make you think I don’t want you just as much as you want me.” His nose brushes against yours, hitching your breath as he presses himself against you and continues in a breathy whisper, “Watching you cry breaks me in ways I can’t describe. And being the reason for your tears just destroys me, (Y/N). I’ll do anything to see you smile again.” 

Then, he presses his lips upon yours, reaching for the carriage door behind you. When he pulls away, he doesn’t give you a chance to reply, ushering you into your seat. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, baby,” he smiles. 

You’ve misjudged him for the third time tonight. Thinking he doesn’t care for you, thinking he left you, and thinking he doesn’t want you. All you can do now is pray that he forgives you for all the curses you’ve hurled his way. 

He chuckles and places kisses on both your hands. “It was very amusing actually.” 

You nod. “I’m sure.” But, you’re still sorry. 

With one last round of kisses over your knuckles, Jungkook promises, “I won’t be late.”

“I’ll be waiting regardless,” you immediately reply. 

The next three words are on the tip of your tongue. He can almost hear them, judging by the twitch of his brows. You don’t have a chance to say them though as he clears his throat and shuts the door. You watch him from the window, shakily exhaling. 

Jungkook calls the coachmen. The carriage jerks forward. The lasting image of his smirk, those sweet eyes and that muscular frame is all you try to see. However, in seconds, he’s pulled from view. The only memory you have of him remains with that sacrilegious confession in a fountain of fantasies. 

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission.

[with-love-anu]

The risk of love

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: Sirius have been bestfriends since forever. Things change when he runs away from home

Warnings: Mentions of bruises and torture

Word Count: 2,798

Sirius Orion Black was the best and the worst person of your life.

He made it so easy being around him. He was as much a part of your life as the air around you. Even James, your childhood best friend didn’t compare to him. Your face would just brighten up whenever he entered the room. He had a charisma that attracted you to him. And you’d fallen for him. When? How? You didn’t know. Because it happened so slowly you couldn’t even pin point the exact moment. You were in love with every bit of him, even the darkest corners.

When you had first realized it, you did everything. You did everything to convince yourself that you weren’t in love with your best friend. You would beat down the bubbly flutter that emerged in your chest every time he was around. It was stupid. It was really stupid to be nervous around Sirius. Because if someone knew you, it was him. But each time he would touch you, even a simple brush of his hand would stir up something inside you making you go crazy again. You would shield yourself with your hands and legs trying to make these foreign, unwanted feelings go away only to be crushed by his thoughts again. You tried not to hate every person he kissed right in front of your eyes, as your stomach twisted up in dangerous knots and every good thing seemed to fade away. You wiped away the adamant tears that refused not to fall. You held your legs close to yourself deep into the night to stop the unbearable pain Sirius never knew he caused. You came up with every logical explanation to not fall for him, the mind abided, the heart didn’t. Come to think of it, when did the heart ever listen to logic?

Your feelings for him were ironic. You loved him with every speck of your soul and hated him for it. Because if there was one thing you couldn’t have, it was him. You had come terms with it long ago, knowing you’ll always love him and that he’ll never even know. And it was okay even though something crushed and shattered within you, seeing his lips red and swollen and his neck littered with bites every other day. You would gulp and force your lips to turn upwards at his proud smirk. You would hide behind your cup as your ears would pound. Remus knew. James did too. They would look at you with a pitiful expression that made you want to scream. But it was okay, because he was happy. That was all that mattered.

You were sitting in the common room perched over the coffee table, writing an essay. James sat beside you but he hardly looked at you. All he saw was the fiery red headed girl talking to a first year. Remus sat opposite to you reading the book thief yet again. Sirius came in and plopped down next to Remus, chuckling a little at James expression.

“Merlin! I hope I never fall in love!” he commented snatching Remus's book who released a ‘hey!’

“You don’t want to fall in love?” Remus asked him.

“Nope. Can’t end up like him!” he said pointing towards James who narrowed his eyes at him.

“But Sirius, you will fall in love one day.” James said shrugging.

“Nope. Don’t want someone after my necks for dates and all that cheesy romantic stuff!” he huffed rolling his eyes.

“Who said everyone wants all that greasy romantic fluff?” you asked raising your eyebrows.

“Well, don’t you?”

“No.”

“Well then, what do you want?” Sirius said smirking at you in challenge.

“I would rather have a quiet relationship, knowing my partner loves me and cares for me like no other.” You said simply.

“Aha! But you see I don’t think love is as pretty as you make it to be. Take James, for example! He says he is in love with Lily there, but has got nothing but hurt in response.”

You all felt silent for a while. You could see the smug look on Sirius’s face and all you could think was how wrong he was.

“We don’t choose who we fall in love with, Sirius. It just happens. And it makes us more human. It’s better to get heartbroken than never experience it even once. It’s… it’s like a drug, once you have a taste of it, you keep wanting it more and more.”

“Yes, but why want all that pain? Why take the risk?”

“And you say it as a cocky proud Gryffindor.” You sassed. You sighed. “Because if we never take the risk, we leave out the chance to be the happiest we can. Because love makes us powerful, happy and strong. Would you rather sit on your death bed thinking what would have happened if you chose to give love a chance?”

Something flicked in Sirius’s eyes before he looked down and changed the topic to the next day’s plans.

***

You were at James house over summer. Your parents had gone abroad and Mrs. Potter was only too happy to take you in. You sat playing exploding snaps in James room late at night when there was a crack at the window. You both looked at it as yet another stone flew right in. James stood up and went to investigate, with you just behind him. You saw a dark silhouette under the dim street lights. Wait. Was that Sirius?

The two of you ran towards the front gate, bolting through the stairs. Your heart stopped as the door opened and you saw Sirius. His face was all bruised and his eye was swollen. You sucked in a breath, taking in his state not knowing how many more scars his torn clothes hid. Your head pounded as you stopped yourself from panicking.

“You said I was welcome at your house if I-“Sirius started but James had already took him in.

“What happened?” James asked quietly as you all went to his room.

“Mother and father were particularly angry tonight, didn’t mind a few crucio’s” your heart stopped as you looked at him. His face was static, hollow. You wanted nothing more than to pull him into your arms but he seemed so fragile that if you did just that, you thought he’d break.

So you walked in a dazed state not knowing when you reached the bed. You went to the washroom where you knew the first aid kit was. James decided to not wake his parents and tell them in the morning and Sirius was too happy to oblige. He didn’t want to talk now. Soaking a rag in cold water, you kneeled in front of Sirius who sat at the edge of the bed. He didn’t quite meet your eyes. You took your trembling hand towards his face only for him to turn it away. Your heart broke a little, seeing him so scarred and broken. You knew he wasn’t scared of you. It was an involuntary reaction. You gulped, placing the rag on his skin as he hissed softly. You cleaned his face and hands while James made sure to change the water very often and bring in some clean clothes.

“You need to remove your shirt.” You whispered pulling back. Sirius obliged, nodding, working like a robot. You swallowed the lump that formed in your throat on seeing him. His chest was red and blue. You knew Sirius would pull away the moment he saw your pitiful gaze, so you worked in silence and schooled your expressions. He gasped and hissed a little at deeper cuts and you whispered apologies to him. You bit back the tears that were threatening to fall.

You had never seen him silent and stoic for so long. Your heart thumped in your chest as you performed healing spells on him along with James. James gave him clothes to change in the washroom. As he went inside, James looped an arm around you and you finally let tears fall. You buried your head in his chest as he rubbed your back.

“He- He-“

“It’s okay. He’s okay.” He shushed you as you tried to calm down. You wiped away your tears as you heard the bathroom door creak.

“You can sleep in the second guest room, come on, I’ll take you.” James said leading him there. You sat on the bed with a thump. James came back moments later and gave you a reassuring smile.

“He’ll be alright. Go to sleep, you need it.” You nodded dragging yourself towards your room. You stopped at the door. You turned around and walked towards Sirius’s room instead. Opening the door slowly; you somehow made out Sirius’s outline.

“Who’s there?” his voice came all rough.

“It’s me” you whispered.

You went around the bed and sneaked under the covers slowly. Sirius tensed immediately feeling your weight on the bed. You came closer to him and spooned his back, looping an arm around his waist. Sirius froze. He felt your warmth radiating into him and gulped. He slowly relaxed as he felt the silence wash over him. He liked it, your arm around him. He felt safe for the first time after running away. He didn’t dare move, should he break the spell that brought you here. He didn’t know when he fell asleep.

***

Sirius woke up in a daze, taking the unfamiliar surroundings in. The events of last night slowly hit him and he turned to see the side where you lay last night. It was empty. Sirius gulped. Was it a dream? He didn’t want it to. It was one of the best sleeps he ever had and it was because of you. He could still feel your warm hand as you looped it across his waist, your fingers light as feather as you healed him. His eyes stinged with tears and he let them fall for once. His head pounded as he took in the situation he was in. He took in deep breaths calming down and going to wash his face. There was a knock on the door and he called to come in.

He turned to see you in your pajamas holding two bowls.

“I have breakfast!” you said offering one of the bowls to him. He smiled a little taking it. The two of you sat in silence, eating. Sirius had never been a quiet boy. Seeing him like that saddened you but you were ready to provide him any comfort you could.

Sirius didn’t say much all day. You and James made sure to talk about good and happy things. It was rare to see him smile, even rarer to see one that reached his eyes. At night you did the same thing you did the previous night, you slipped in beside him. He didn’t tense up as much as the last time, so you counted that as a win.

You all fell into a rhythm. Sirius woke up with you and James bringing him breakfast. You would go out around the city the whole day, eat, drink, play and come home. You would slip into his room at night, holding him as you both fell asleep.

***

Sirius was coming to admire you a little more every day. You never did anything that made him feel inadequate or uncomfortable. You didn’t push him to do anything and he’d come to love those peaceful silences the two of you shared. He looked forward to nights because they meant your tight embraces that made him feel warm and safe. He started noticing how you were so beautiful in a very natural and raw way. He found himself smiling involuntarily at your laughs and giggles. He needed you close to him every moment of the day. And you happily gave him that. Come to think of it, you were one of the most constant people in his life and he felt guilty for not being grateful for you before. He wasn’t blind. He noticed how you were genuinely saddened by what happened to him. His heart contracted as he saw you crying into James shirt one day. He waited for the pending look of pity you would give him, but it never came.

Lying on the bed, James had corrected him over and over again to call his, he waited for you. He heard a creak as you came in. He felt a weight on the bed as you slipped in. He sighed at the familiar feeling of your arm around him. He closed his eyes but he didn’t want to sleep. He turned around to face your shining eyes in the dark instead.

“(Y/n).”

“Yeah?”

“Why do you care so much about me?”

“What are you talking about Sirius? You’re my best friend, of course I care about you!”

“But I am nothing. I would understand if you wouldn’t have seen me like this, at my worst. You see me and yet you care about me so much.”

“Sirius, I don’t care about pretences. I love you. You. All if it. No matter how bad or dark it is.” You whispered.

Sirius didn’t say anything right then. His eyes were glistening and he hoped you wouldn’t see it. You cupped his face, kissing his forehead. He was your best friend and you would be damned if you let anything hurt him. You would always love him, even if he didn’t feel the same.

But Sirius did feel the same. You had stirred something in him. He had started to want all the crazy romantic stuff. He didn’t want to admit it, but if there was someone he would risk falling in love with it was you. And it wasn’t a sudden realization. It took a hundred smirks from James as he looked at you with a loopy smile, a nudge from Mrs. Potter telling him how cute he would look with you, making him stutter for the first time in his life.

***

Remus visited you three a week later. The four of you goofed around planning all that you would be doing at Hogwarts. As much as Sirius was happy to see Remus again, you spent too much time with him. Sirius’s face had upturned a bit as he saw you run to Remus hugging him tightly when he arrived. He schooled his expression shrugging it off. But now it seemed that the two of you were attached to the hip. Sirius sulked as he saw you and Remus huddled together over a book. He felt jealous of Remus. He didn’t read books that he could talk about with you.

He went and plopped down beside you.

“Hey.” He said as you looked at him with a bright smile.

“Hey!” you said and turned to discuss the book again as Sirius pouted.

“(Y/n) I think you might wanna talk to Sirius over there or he’ll die.” James exaggerated as you turned towards Sirius who looked at James indignantly.

“What?” you poked.

“Nothing.” He grumbled, getting up and out. You frowned as he went away. Telling Remus to wait, you went after Sirius and grabbed his hand.

“Come on, tell me, what is it?” you said as he shook his head. You narrowed your eyes at him, thinking of something. You went forward and started to tickle him.

“(Y/n)!!! Stop!!!” he said as he rolled out laughing. You didn’t stop continuing your torment as he grabbed you and you fell on the top of him, giggling. As you both tried to calm down, Sirius noticed how beautiful you looked so close. Your (Y/e/c) eyes just sparkled with mirth and he couldn’t help it. He raised his head and kissed you. You gasped as his lips met yours. He pulled away as soon as he realized what he was doing.

You blinked slowly, getting up as Sirius did the very same.

“(Y/n) I…”

“Sirius, please tell me you didn’t just kiss me because you don’t have anyone to do it.”

“WHAT?” Sirius asked. “Are you kidding me?!? Don’t you see how much you mean to me? Can’t you see it? You make me smile out of the blue, make me wanna do all that lovey dovey stuff they do in movies and I wanna be your boyfriend. I get it if you reject me, but don’t-“

Sirius stopped as you pressed your lips against his. It was slow and soft. He wanted to feel it, the moment. He tasted your bubblegum chapstick feeling your soft lips against his dry ones. As you pulled back, you smiled at him.

“So what does being your girlfriend entail, again?” you said breathlessly as he pulled in to kiss you again.

A/N: Let me know what you think!

[consulaaris]

star light, star bright 

shepherds of haven ( @shepherds-of-haven )

red antiqua x f! MC (rhiannon vasi)

2.9k words, pre-relationship fluff

.

Falling is a strange thing, Red decides. 

Falling in love is more so. 

He’d never meant to fall, not really; it had just happened, as natural as breathing. Little by little, detail by detail, until before he knew it his heart was in so deep he couldn’t stop it if he tried. It was like he’d merely woken up one day and known. For everything that’s come easy to Red in his life, he’s never fallen often- has never opened himself fully to all that many people. Rhia was the first, all those years ago; he thinks of secret letters and laughter, and all of the stolen kisses that feel now like they were taken on borrowed time. The memories are sweet, even if tinged with the sharp ache of realizing she hadn’t felt the same. 

Yet now Rhiannon has wandered right back into his life, waltzing into the space in his heart he’d never quite filled since she’d left- like the missing piece of a puzzle he hadn’t even known was incomplete. 

To be fair, right now he should probably be more focused on trying not to fall off the roof of this building just outside the Shepherd’s compound than on his theoretical romantic prospects. But there’s a fire in his chest and his thoughts are running wild and Rhia’s presence ahead of him certainly isn’t helping on either front. 

Red scrambles up onto the roof, wincing at the roughness of the shale on his knees, and Rhia turns to him, lips curling up in a wider grin than he’s seen from her in a while- one which he can’t help but return. “Need a hand?” she says lightly, reaching out to offer him a lift up to his feet. She’s not wearing her usual gloves, and he catches a glimpse of the jagged scars spanning the length of her hands. But her skin is calloused, cool to the touch, and he finds himself lingering, unable to resist the temptation of holding onto her for maybe a few seconds longer than he should before pulling away. 

(He’s in too deep again, and he knows it; feels a truth lingering in his heart which he’s not quite yet ready to voice.)

The building whose roof they’re on isn’t particularly tall, but it’s still larger than many of the surrounding ones and the landscape of Haven unfolds before them, windows and alleys lit here and there by lamplight. It’s a city of layers that Red hasn't even begun to fully explore. Somewhere behind them, he knows, the Sun Palace lies in all its glitter and glory, but here in the night when he feels like he’s on top of the world, the Autarchy doesn’t seem to matter quite as much. The air is crisp, cold; the bitter chill of winter clinging to life even as it begins to give way to spring. Both moons are narrow crescents in a sky wreathed by thin clouds, yet though he can see the faint flickering of the stars they’re largely obscured by light emanating from the city.

But his gaze is drawn in particular to Rhiannon, silhouetted against the night as she takes in the view. Enough of a nearby streetlamp illuminates where they now stand, and its orange glow flickers across her face. Dark hair- normally kept in a loose braid- hangs in loose waves tonight, the strands teased into a gentle dance by the wind and its white streak seeming almost to glow in the dim light. She looks more at peace than he’s seen her in a long time. 

“Beautiful,” Red says quietly. He’s not entirely sure what he’s referring to. 

Rhia turns, but doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “Isn’t it?” A rueful expression crosses her face. “I used to come here a lot in the beginning, when I was first conscripted. I needed my own space to think.” 

It takes him a moment to process that. “You were conscripted?” The words leave his mouth before he can stop to think, and though he curses himself inwardly for ruining the moment Red’s not sure he’s able to keep the note of surprise from entering his voice. He’d always thought that she’d joined willingly, and nothing she or any of the other Shepherds had said had indicated otherwise.  

She winces. “I… yes.” Rhia’s mouth tightens slightly at the admission, and he can see the rest of her body tensing. “The Inquisitors would’ve killed me otherwise. I’d used magic to save Caine-” her expression softens slightly at the mention of the boy “-but declined to join the Shepherds after they’d taken me to their compound, and those dogs were waiting for me as soon as I’d left.” Although Rhia’s voice is light, he knows her well enough to know that that’s a facade. Gone is the relaxation of her previous posture; trembling hands bely the emotions she tries so hard to conceal, but there’s a vaguely defiant set to her shoulders, a glint in those stormy eyes- like she’s on the defensive, justifying her actions not just to him, but to herself. There's a sharp hurt in his chest as she realizes that she’s scared. 

Red opens his mouth to respond, to reassure Rhia that he doesn’t blame her, that he doesn’t think any less of her for it, when she speaks again in a rush. 

“I’d like to think I would’ve gone back to them, joined up later. But I guess we’ll never know.” A laugh bubbles out of her, sounding more desperate than amused. 

“You would have,” Red says earnestly, stepping forward to take her hands in his. “I know it.” Of that he’s certain, because if he knows Rhiannon at all, he knows she cares. Even if it seems like she’d tried so hard to bury that part of herself over the years they’d been apart; even if it seems like she’s still burying it, sometimes. 

“Maybe,” she whispers, looking down at their hands. Something in her feels fragile, small, an expression fixed on her face that reminds him of broken glass. All at once she’s the Rhiannon he knew and someone else entirely; she’s sharper now, quieter- all lines and angles and expressions that are oh so strange, yet achingly familiar. He knows what would’ve helped Rhia then.

He’s not as sure he knows what would help her now. 

It’s harder to tell than it used to be, since she’s wrapped herself in that angry mask, since she’s hidden herself away beneath layers upon layers he’s only just begun to unravel again. And though Red’s seen deeper than most, he thinks, there’s… something still hidden. Something new just under the surface of her, like she’s full of secrets that seem to be eating her alive.   

Or maybe it’d been there this whole time, and he just hadn’t been able to see it. (He’s not quite able to suppress the lump of guilt that rises in his throat at the thought.) 

Red just hopes she’ll share it with someone someday. Even if not him, if only to ease the burden on herself. 

“You’re with them now, though- and that’s what matters, right?” He pauses, searching for the right words. Gray eyes cling to his every move like he’s a lifeline in the night. “We just have to do the best with what we have, and make the best of the choices we’ve already made. It doesn’t make you a bad person. I think you’re a very good person, as a matter of fact.” 

Rhia shakes her head once, as if in vague disagreement, and a few strands of dark hair fall into her eyes before she brushes them back again, swallowing thickly. “I just… I want to do something good, y’know? For once.” Red feels his brow furrow at her wording, can’t help but wonder. But he must not be as good at hiding his reactions from her as he’d hoped because a wry smile crosses her face.

“I’m sorry. I ruined the mood, didn’t I?” 

“Never,” he says, the corners of his lips tugging up in a crooked grin- chasing his curious thoughts away as he brushes his thumb across her cheek. “A moment with you could never be ruined.” (A brief moment of internal panic hits him like a jolt when he realizes how that sounds, but the expression on her face is soft enough to make his heart beat just a little too fast. And when his smile is rewarded with a small one in reply... he can’t bring himself to regret having said it.)

She lets out a shaky breath, one Red hadn’t realized she’d been holding. It feels like a weight has been lifted off of Rhiannon, but there’s a tension that lingers between the two of them, so thick it seems like he could reach out and cut it with a knife. He can see it in the set of her shoulders, feel it in the grip of his hands on hers, the look in her too-bright eyes, and her lips part as though she’s about to say something more. 

But then Rhia shivers. 

Her whole body jerks slightly with the force of it, pulling her hands away from his, and he can sense rather than see her surprise that mirrors his own. An instant of silence passes between them as their eyes meet… and suddenly they’re both keeled over laughing, the tension shattered and given an outlet by the suddenness and unexpectedness of the motion. It’s not funny, it really isn’t, but it’s the nature of people to do strange things under stress and so they laugh until they run out of breath, only to look at each other and succumb to the peculiar hilarity of it all over again. Spots of color bloom high in Rhiannon’s pale cheeks, her head tossed back even as she tries to cover her mouth to suppress her giggling (and if there’s something that looks suspiciously like tears glistening in the corners of those lovely gray eyes, Red decides he’s not going to press the matter). 

When he’s finally calmed down enough to speak, Red grins at her from where he’s half bent over with his hands on his knees, his chest sore from their fits of laughter. “You always have run cold, haven’t you?” he says teasingly. 

Rhia glares at him playfully, but the pout on her lips is easily overtaken by a smile of amusement and another chuckle. “Some things never change.” 

A lot of things, Red thinks. But he merely settles himself down to the roof, beckoning Rhia towards where he’s now sitting. She complies, but frowns as he opens his cloak in an offer to share. 

“I’m not-”

“You’re not what? Not cold?” He raises an eyebrow. “I think you clearly proved the contrary just a minute or so ago.”

Watching Rhia’s face go completely scarlet is probably more satisfying than it should be, but Red can’t stop the little smirk that grows on his face as she splutters in protest. “That’s not true! I just-” she falters at Red’s expression, her resignation punctuated by another shiver “-fine. Fine. You win.” Still grumbling, she scooches herself closer until they’re practically huddled together, the cloak wrapped around them. Despite wearing her own cloak and even a knitted scarf- one he’s sure he saw Caine buying not so long ago- Red’s surprised at how cold to the touch Rhiannon is still (even if having her pressed to his side has him feeling warmer than ever). 

“See, isn’t this better?” he says teasingly, and though Rhia makes a little face at him, still blushing, she doesn’t deny it. He’s reminded suddenly of all those nights at the Circle when they’d snuck off to the rooftops or the lake, and how easy things had been then. How strangely difficult they feel now. It’s hard to resist the urge to put his arm around her; part of Red wants to hold Rhia, pull her close until there’s nothing left between them and he’s lost in the touch of her skin and the heady lavender-and-snow scent of her. But the more logical side of him shies away. Red has always been confident in his relationships, but he knows all too well how this ended last time. 

Not like his heart has ever listened to logic, though. 

Unaware of his internal struggle, Rhia’s gaze shifts upwards, a little sigh escaping her. “I know it’s just part and parcel of living in a city as big as Haven is, but I do wish we could see the stars better. That’s one thing I miss.” 

An idea lights itself in Red’s mind and he purses his lips, tilting his head slightly to the side in consideration. “Well, it's not the stars, but…” He lifts his hand up, palm raised to the sky, and a little mage light appears there. Then another. One by one the sparkling lights- in faint shades of gold, and white, and red, and blue- rise into the air around them, held aloft by the power of Red’s concentration. Glittering around them in various sizes and pulsing with a gentle glow, amidst the lights it seems for a moment like they’re sitting in their own personal galaxy. Just the two of them in their own little world, their own set of stars. Rhia’s lips are parted ever so slightly as she takes in the scene, eyes wide in an expression of wonder- and when she turns to him she’s brimming with an emotion he can’t quite interpret, peering at him as if maybe he holds the answers of the galaxies in his eyes. 

“Show off,” she whispers affectionately. There’s something almost painfully fond in her gaze, in her voice. 

Red doesn’t even bother to deny it, but it doesn’t curb the smile on his face as he winks at her. Yet while Rhia’s attention returns to the lights dancing slowly above them, enraptured by their glow… his focus is entirely on her. And when Red looks at her, really looks at her,  it crosses his mind that maybe some of the worlds he’s been trying so hard to find are right here next to him, hidden away in a heart for which he hasn’t quite yet found the key. Something builds, aches, growing in his heart and throat until he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that he wants to learn the shape of her all over again, relearn every little piece of her he’d already known and more. Even if there’s the fear he’s going to get burned, again every instinct of his urges him to reach out, to hold her close. But he refrains. For now. Time is one thing they have, and he’s never been one to rush the important things. 

(His heart sings with the quiet joy of it, the quiet hope.)

Lost together in the silence they sit with no need for words between them. Eventually Red lets the mage lights fade from existence, winking out one by one until they’re left just with the soft half-darkness of the city and the warmth of each other. Rhia leans into him ever so slightly. He swallows nervously, but though he doesn’t- can’t- look at her then, keeping his gaze fixed towards the sky, he can’t keep his lips from curving upwards. The breeze sweeps his hair back from his forehead, and he inhales deeply- relishing this, relishing the moment like some fragile thing he’s not sure will last. 

Movement at the edge of his vision causes him to frown, turning a little to better make out whatever it is, and when he does Red’s mouth opens in a perfect “o”. 

“It’s a shooting star! Quick, make a wish,” he says, grinning, and he feels Rhiannon stirring at his side. The star’s movement is faint but clear across the sky and they trace its path until it disappears beyond the horizon, although the sense of elation Red feels at having seen it remains. Maybe it’s a little silly, but there’s a sense of childlike wonder that fills him at such a small thing, and it feels… fitting, for tonight. 

“What did you wish for?” he says cheekily, turning towards Rhia (who merely stares at him with one eyebrow raised, unimpressed).

“You know you’re not supposed to tell your wish,” she sniffs. “Otherwise it won’t come true.”

“Ah, so it’s something you really want, huh?”

She rolls her eyes, shoving his shoulder playfully, and the familiarity of the gesture warms him. “Would I have wished for it if I didn’t?”

Red laughs then, and she joins in, and again it’s just the two of them in their little bubble above the city, just the two of them like he’d once hoped it would be. And he knows they’ll have to rejoin the rest of the world, that it’ll have to be soon because he can feel the heaviness of sleep tugging at his body, but in that moment he doesn’t really want to. 

Something in tonight has made it all feel a bit like a new beginning- because though he doesn’t say it aloud, he knows what he wished for, tucks it away in his heart until the time is right.

Part of him can’t help but hope that maybe, just maybe, Rhia had wished for the very same thing. 

[harrysweasleys]

summer blues // s.f

Summary: Can you write a Seamus Finnigan imagine where he and his girlfriend spend the summer before 6th year together in Ireland discussing their future and the impending war? Especially since during 5th year they hit a rough patch when they broke up over their differing opinions on Voldemort’s return and believing Harry but got back together after he realized and they’re stronger than ever. More of a fluff request than angst please

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: so this is my first time writing for seamus! i hope you enjoy! gif isn’t mine, as usual. xx

“You’re telling me that you believe all that rubbish?” Seamus’ voice was angrier than you had ever heard it, and it was — to your displeasure — directed towards you.

“Course I do,” you argued back, “What good does Harry gain from lying about You Know Who’s return? Everyone’s ratting on him — including the Prophet, which you’ve so kindly decided to use as an example.”

You loved Seamus, you really did, but his ignorance was driving you through the goddamn roof. Ever since Cedric’s death the previous year, he had been blabbing on and on about how Harry was delusional, how he had been so damaged as a child that he looked everywhere he could for fame — even through the death of a fellow student.

You, on the other hand, had found his accusations rather ridiculous. Of course, no one knew what really happened the night Cedric Diggory had been killed in the final task of the Triwizard Tournament, but you could tell right away that something was wrong. So when Harry announced You Know Who was back, you believed him in a heartbeat.

“Don’t be stupid,” Seamus waved his arms in exhasperation, “Stop siding with Harry. Blimey, if you like him so much go date him.”

“No, you are not turning this into a contest,” you snapped, pointing a finger at him as the anger continued bubbling in your chest, “Just because you’re in denial does not mean you can bring down those around you.”

“I am not in denial,” he crossed his arms, approaching you, “You’re just insanely gullible.”

Your heart felt as if it was being constricted, “Seamus, please. Just come to your senses here. I can’t keep arguing the same stupid points with you anymore.”

Seamus straightened up, adjusting his sweater before giving you a cold look, “Fine. Then let’s stop.”

You let out a relieved sigh, thankful that the fight was coming to a close. You walked over to him, ready to call it a night and go to bed — now that you were exhausted from the fighting — but he stepped away from you and clenched his jaw.

“By stop, I meant stop dating,” he mumbled, avoiding your gaze completely by this point. Not that it mattered, his words had the same impact. Your heart shattered and all the air had been completely knocked out of your lungs. You gazed at him, mouth open like a fish out of water.

“What?” your voice was faint, distant, as if it wasn’t even coming from you.

He shuffled his feet across the floor, eyes looking everywhere but you, “I think we should break up.”

The boy’s dorm room had never felt smaller as you stood there, staring at Seamus with every ounce of you wanting to fight, to argue, to go down any other path. But you were silent. Your mind told you to leave. To walk out and not bother. So that’s exactly what you did.

You stormed out of the boy’s dorm, passing Dean and Neville on the way out, both of whom asked if you were alright, not gaining an answer from you. You rushed up the stairs to your own room, shutting the door violently behind you. Luckily, Ginny and Hermione were out for the day, along with Pavarti who was rarely around anyways.

You threw your body down on the bed, clutching a pillow to your chest, and began to cry silently, the heavy rain pounding against the window matching exactly how you were feeling.

And now, without Seamus by your side, and with the looming threat of an upcoming battle, you had never felt more alone.

— —

“I’m still sorry about that, ya know,” Seamus spoke softly, twirling a strand of your hair between his fingers, which were now calloused due to the amount of physical work he had been doing over the summer.

You nodded, gazing up at him with a faint smile, “I know, so am I.”

“I always want my girl by my side,” he pressed his lips to your forehead softly, causing a delighted shiver to go down your spine, goosebumps rising on your bare arms despite the sunlight beaming down.

The summer holidays were a bit of a drag this year as opposed to how exciting they usually were. After the ordeal at the Ministry and the death of Sirius Black, and of course, the rise of You Know Who, there was very little to enjoy or look forward to.

Your fifth year had been one of your most beneficial years yet, thanks to Harry and the secret army that he founded in the Room or Requirements. You had learned spells that you didn’t think you’d be able to do only in your fifth year. Your life changed drastically, and no matter how much you were dreading the eventual return to school, you were prepared this time.

Seamus, after coming around and realizing that Harry was right all along, had turned out to be one of the best wizards in Dumbledore’s Army. Even you were surprised by how talented he was, considering you had been watching him blow up potions for five years.

— —

“I uh — I reckon you’re right.”

You gazed up from the breakfast you had been munching on and met Seamus’ eyes. His hands were fidgeting and his hair looked disheveled, as if he hadn’t slept the night before. You, on the other hand, had taken the opportunity to not sulk. Yes, he had broken your heart mere weeks before, but with the help of your friends and Dumbledore’s Army, you still found yourself feeling... good.

“Right about what?” you raised an eyebrow, placing your fork down. You hadn’t actually spoken to him since your breakup, but you had seen him in every class. It was quite frustrating, if you were being honest. You missed him like hell and he was always just a few seats away from you. You often found yourself wanting to apologize, but why? He was in the wrong. And he was the one who broke up with you.

“About Harry. About You Know Who,” he mumbled, sitting across from you to avoid looking like he was making a scene. He continued to fidget with his fingers nervously.

You pursed your lips, nodding your head slowly, “And what, may I ask, made you change your mind?”

He peered up at you, running a hand through his hair, “I — uh — I was speaking to me mum the other day and we both agree that the Prophet articles don’t really match up. The Ministry is clearly making stuff up.”

You nodded, raising your eyebrows and clearing your throat, “Clearly? I thought it was clear when I told you Harry was telling the truth. Was my word not enough?” You were glad Seamus had finally come to his senses, but there was still a part of you that was angry he didn’t believe you in the first place.

“That’s not what I’m saying,” he sighed, running his hands down his face, “I’m sorry I didn’t side with you. I guess the thought of You Know Who returning to power was too much.”

You let out a small chuckle, “It’s okay, Seamus. I’m messing with you. I’m glad you’ve come around and realized the truth.” Reaching across the table, you grabbed his hand and linked it with yours. It was sweaty, clammy, but the familiarity of his fingers laced with yours was enough for you to pull your mind away from all the other things.

“I’m sorry about everything I said to you too,” he admitted softly, his eyes showing every ounce of his apology, “I really do love you. I feel horrible about what I said.”

“I love you too, you idiot,” you grinned, lifting your hand to poke him in the cheek, causing his smile to appear. Already, as if a weight had been taken off his shoulders, his eyes looked livelier and more awake.

You finally had him back.

— —

“I may be an idiot but I’m a lucky idiot because you took me back,” Seamus’ voice was still soft, his hands pulling away from your hair to pluck at a dandelion that had been sitting in the grass, placing it gently behind your ear.

You leaned up, resting your elbows in the patchy dirt, “I’m too smitten to not take you back, you big goof.”

He grinned down at you, leaning back and laying in the grass next to you, placing his hands behind his head and gazing up at the clouds passing overhead. The view from Seamus’ yard was quite spectacular. The rolling hills could be seen in the distance, the never ending fields of gorgeous grass and flowers surrounding the cozy house, and the garden that his mother used to grow her food was unlike any other. You really loved it here.

“I don’t think our next year is going to be as calm as the rest,” Seamus looked lost in thought as he spoke, eyes still glued to the clouds.

“You thought our previous years were calm?” you scoffed jokingly, “Professor Quirrel was crazy, then we had the Chamber of Secrets, then we had Sirius Black — which if I recall correctly, you were terrified of — then the tournament—,”

“Ok, I get it,” Seamus chuckled, waving his hand to cut you off, “It hasn’t been... uneventful, I guess.”

“But,” you spoke up once your laughter had died down, “I reckon you’re right. I think things are going to change.”

After the ordeal at the Ministry made headlines, captioning the fact that the one wizard everyone had feared to their very core had returned, you doubted your sixth year would be anything like the rest. Both you and Seamus had already received Owls from both Hogwarts and the Ministry saying that security at Hogwarts was bound to be at an all-time high. Not that you minded, safety was important, but that was bound to change things.

“What if things take a turn for the worst?” Seamus leaned over and gazed at you, resting his head in his hand and lifting his other one to wrap around your waist and pull you closer, your loose hair tangling in the grass as you moved towards him.

You leaned up, sending him a gentle smile, “Well, we may not know what’s to come, but I think you and I will be alright.”

“You think?” he raised an eyebrow, a questioning look on his face.

You nodded, “I do. And I also think that now since everything is surfacing, we’re bound to be taught everything we need to know.”

He seemed to agree with your words, “You’re right there. The professors ought to know we need to protect ourselves. Especially being classmates with The Chosen One and all.”

You giggled, leaning down and shoving his shoulder, knocking him onto his back. You took the opportunity to rest your head on his shoulder, raising one of your hands to run your fingers through his short hair, causing him to shiver under your touch.

“You’ll stay by me, right?” he asked softly, running his fingers up and down your other arm, which was draped around his abdomen.

You lifted your head to press a kiss to his cheek, “Course I will. Wouldn’t want to stick by anyone else.”

He chuckled, squeezing you closer to him — if that was even possible at this point. You could feel the warmth leaving his body, the soothing thump of his heartbeat, and the smell of grass and soil. All in all, despite the oncoming darkness, you felt at peace.

You guys sat in the warm sunshine for quite some time after that, unfortunately rushing indoors once heavy clouds rolled in and cold rain poured down, soaking you both to your core.

He pulled you inside by the hand, the two of you laughing and being careful not to drip all over Seamus’ family’s furniture, which happened to be a lot of antiques and handcrafted items that his mother loved to tell you the stories of.

“C’mon, let’s go dry off,” he was still slightly laughing as he made his way towards the linen closet, pulling out two towels for the two of you to dry off with.

After patting yourself down, you chucked your towel over his head and rubbed it on his hair, his laughter muffled through the cotton.

“Nice, real mature,” he threw it off of him and glared at you playfully, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and beginning to tickle you. You let out a scream, smacking his shoulders and begging for him to stop.

“Seamus! Stop — I can’t —,” your words we’re struggling to come out through your laughter. You could feel your entire face heating up at the contact, hoping his parents weren’t going walk in.

He pulled his hands away from your waist, so you rushed to catch your breath in case he decided to once again resume his tickle attack. But, instead of doing so, he gently placed his hands on your waist and pulled you closer to him. He was still drenched, but his heat was soothing flushed up against your own body.

“I can’t get enough of you, y’know?” he brought one of his hands up to your cheek and cupped it lightly, leaning his head down to place his lips against yours. Your body felt ignited, the warmth spreading through you incredibly quickly as if hot water had been poured over you. His lips were cold, but they pressed against yours with enough passion for you to feel hot.

He had always been such a gentle kisser, taking in the moment and savouring then contact. This time was no different. You could feel every ounce of love he poured into the intimate gesture, sending your heart soaring and your fingers tingling.

He pulled away after a good moment, leaning his forehead up against yours, “Love you.”

You smiled, cheeks hurting from the giddiness you were feeling, “Love you too, you goof.”

-

[amythedvdhoarder]

Planning for the Worst

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Word count: 8K

Summary: Bucky is currently hiding with you in Romania. When the bombing happens in Vienna your whole world threatens to crumble around you.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff and smut. 18+ only

Authors notes: Written for the wonderful @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ Birthday Celebration. I hope you have a had a lovely birthday week (because one day is never enough!). 

I was sent the lovely gif above (not mine) and this “I’m thinking maybe a bit of angst and affection. However short or long you want it ” I opted for long, my longest fic yet!

This kind of follows the plot of civil war but is obviously adapted to include the reader. I love feedback so please let me know what you think!

Here is my masterlist if you want to read any of my other Bucky one-shots!

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You looked at the newspaper in your hand. This had to be a terrible mistake. They were going to come for him, you just knew it. Throwing the newspaper down you turned on your heel and set off at a fast pace. It took a lot of effort for you to remain calm but you had to. Drawing any sort of attention now could be absolutely catastrophic. You pulled your phone and called the first of the two contacts you had on there. No answer. Then you called the second contact, the coffee shop, to let your boss you quit. As you approached the busy market you could hear the wail of multiple sirens in the distance. You tried to ignore the panic bubbling through your chest as you weaved through the people milling around, oblivious to the events going on around them. A tirade of curses was aimed in your direction after you accidently barged into someone. You didn’t even pause to apologise. All you could think about was getting to him. If you got back soon, then maybe you would have enough time to warn him. Enough time for both of you to run.

Bucky had told you the fragments of what he could remember from the last 70 years. You knew that he would never be safe, that you could never have a normal life together. You were a nobody, a nurse from New York with no family and no close friends. But Bucky was a different entity entirely. People would hunt him down for who he used to be, for what he used to be when HYDRA had controlled him. Although HYDRA had supposedly been destroyed, any sympathiser could be out to get him. Then there was Steve. The person who had finally snapped him out of the HYDRA brainwashing. His best friend. Steve would be searching for him for sure. For that reason, you never stayed in one place for too long, a couple of months tops. Finding temporary jobs in whatever city you lived in whilst Bucky kept a low profile. You had been in Romania for a month and a half now. Every day you checked the newspaper for anything that hinted at your discovery. For nearly two years on the run with Bucky, you had followed the same routine. Both of you always so careful and so vigilant, always one step ahead. Invisible. But all of that was about to change.

Bile rose in your throat as you turned the corner and approached your building. Ambulances were scattered all around the entrances and numerous bodies were being carried out on stretchers. You went up to the police officer by the door. “Hi, um I live here. What happened?” The officer gave a judgemental scan up and down your body. “Gas leak” You bit back the laugh at such a blatant lie. “Thanks, do you know when I will be able to get back into my flat?” The officer just shrugged and turned their back on you. As you walked away all you could do was hope that Bucky got out in time, that he was unharmed. Safe. You would swear on your own life that he hadn’t carried out the bombings he was accused of.  It was an impossibility. He had been with you on that day, here in Romania. But the frontpage of the newspapers this morning told a different story.

All you could do was wait, kill time until you could get back into the flat. Everything you needed was in there. Passports, money but more importantly you hoped some indication of what had happened to Bucky. A TV in the bar you were walking past flashed up an image of a familiar face. You stopped, turning to look at the screen fully, stomach falling at the sight in front of you. The broadcast flickered to a live feed. A man with a backpack on being forced to the ground, a troupe of armed police pointing their guns directly at him. You bit your hand to prevent you from crying out. Terror filled you as you watched the man you loved, hauled to his feet and all but dragged towards a waiting armoured vehicle. The only small consolation was there in the form of a man dressed in red, white and blue; Steve. The man known to the world as Captain America. Surely, he would know that his friend was innocent and protect him. But any glimmer of hope faded as you watched America’s most famous hero, being pushed into another armoured vehicle.

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The next hour felt like 10. You paced back and forth outside your building waiting for the police to leave. All the while trying to decide exactly what you should do. You didn’t know where Bucky had been taken, or by what agency. You just knew was that you were the only one who could help prove his innocence. Which was exactly what you were going to try and do. Your thoughts were running wild with the ideas of what they could be doing to Bucky and the fear and anger he must be feeling. Those two emotions were a bad combination for anyone but with Bucky it was 100 times worse. When he didn’t feel like he was fully in control the darkness did take over he would shut down. You had witnessed this countless times when he would just sit in the corner of the room for hours, stoic and trancelike.

Over time you had learnt how best to handle moments like these. Learning never to approach him or touch him. Not because you were scared of him but because he was scared that he could snap and hurt you. Instead you would talk, not necessarily to him, but the sound of your voice would help him escape the horrors cycling around in his head. Eventually when he was feeling more like himself, he would come and wrap his arms around you and just hold onto you. These episodes would usually end with you sat with his head in your lap just running your hand through his hair. It was times like these which Bucky appreciated how much you understood him. You never pressuring to explain what he was going through, gave him the space he needed.

Bucky began to open up to you and let him in. His memories were coming back slowly and as they did he tried to push you away. He was fully aware that he capable of killing you in a second. A trained assassin who wasn’t fully in command of their mind. The mere thought of that potential lapse of control had had led to many heated discussions. Bucky couldn’t understand why you were with him. He was a monster. A killer. Someone who many feared and those that didn’t, should.  He tried to get you to leave him so many times but you had refused. He loved you more than he could express but knew you deserved more. More than what he could offer which was at best a shell of the man he once was before HYDRA. But for some reason he couldn’t understand, you loved him.

His past, however, did hold some advantages. The assassin within him made him hyper-vigilant and his instincts had kept you both safe and undetected for so long. In preparation for being discovered Bucky had ensured you both had go bags stashed away and also briefed you on what to do if something happened to him. In this moment you were trying to draw on everything that Bucky had taught you. You watched as the policeman left before approaching your building again. As you walked up to your flat it was evident that there had been a massive fight. Railings were hanging off on some parts of the stairs, chunks missing from the wall and there were plenty of broken doors. One of which was your own.

Stepping through the doorway you gasped as you took in the extent of the damage. It was much worse than the rest of the building, your brain telling you instinctively that this was where the fight had broken out. The place was destroyed; the windows shattered, bullet holes littered over the ceilings and walls, furniture destroyed. One bit of the damage that didn’t surprise you was hole in the floor where Bucky’s go bag had been. Yours pulled out your own which was still hidden behind the old sturdy fridge. The final thing you had to do was get rid of your phone. You pulled it out of your pocket, along with the wallet containing the ID you had been using and left if on the counter, exactly as Bucky had instructed. It seemed a strange thing to do but it was part of the plan; people would be busy hunting down the woman from the photos on your ID. By the time they realised it was a stolen identity you would be long gone with a new look and a new name. You took a final glance and headed out of the door and out into the cool late afternoon breeze.

Now you were going to take a risk and deviate from Bucky’s carefully constructed plan. Before travelling to the designated rendezvous point you were going to take a detour. You could provide Bucky an alibi for the Vienna bombing. If you got to him now then maybe you wouldn’t have to stick to the original plan. As you walked to the bus stop you ran through what you had to do if this didn’t work. The clock was already ticking. If you didn’t get Bucky now then you would go to the safe house. If he didn’t show up within the 48-hour time frame then you would have to abandon him and go on the run again without him.

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The bus you were sat on took you into the centre of Bucharest where Bucky was being held. As the buildings rushed past the windows you tried to keep focussed but your mind kept drifting to Bucky. Even before the bombing he was wanted by pretty much every nations intelligence services for crimes committed as the winter soldier. Bucky would never willingly provide information. You just prayed that the intelligence services wouldn’t just assume his guilt when he was uncooperative and defensive. No intelligence service would be above using torture to get what they wanted, especially when it came down to someone as infamous as the winter soldier. They would have to realise they had got the wrong person, hopefully before they started to interrogate Bucky in earnest.

Out of the window you could see a large crowd of people staring into the body of water. A quite ring of an alarm could be heard and news vans were pulling up in front of the building. Paramedics there treating people stood around the many ambulances. This couldn’t be unrelated so you pressed the stop button and quickly disembarked and wondered across the bridge towards the chaos. People in bloodied clothes were not trying to keep their voices down as they talked hurriedly about recent events. You walked with purpose, trying to blend in and pick up any useful information “I saw him. He looked so cold, so inhuman. It was like he was a robot. Killed all the guards on his way out.” It didn’t take you long to figure out who they were talking about. The winter soldier. It was worse than anything you could have imagined.

“Did you see what happened to him?” You pushed yourself into a group of women who were talking. They all turned to look at you. “Sorry, do we know you?” A blonde woman sent a challenging glare your way. “I work in the basement in IT” The lie fell easily from your lips as you sent a small back at her. She shrugged, seemingly believing you. “He went down into the river in a helicopter. Captain America went under as well. The divers are looking for them now. No sign yet.” You nodded before quickly saying goodbye to the women and headed away from the scene. They had told you everything you needed to know. Bucky was alive. He was with Steve. Steve would keep him safe until he was himself again. All you had to do know was get to cabin outside of the city and pray he would do the same. If he could still remember you.

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You rented a car under the guise of one of your fake identities, paying cash and providing a false address for insurance purposes. The poor girl at the company had no clue that the particular car you were borrowing was unlikely to be returned in one piece, if at all. The four-wheel drive was ideal for the long journey into the forests in the north of Romania. Hours later you were exhausted. The evening sky dimming as you hid the car at the end of a dirt track. The final distance was to be covered on foot taking you deeper into the forest. It was hard going; the thick undergrowth slowing you down and posing a constant challenge.

It was a journey you had hoped you never had to make. But as the small wooden hut, miles away from civilisation, came into view you allowed a sigh of relief to escape your lips. Bucky had really outdone himself this time. There was no way that anybody would find you. The building looked like it had been abandoned over 20 years ago. “It’s not exactly luxurious doll, even by our standards.” He certainly wasn’t kidding. After a brief tour you realised that it would be comfortable enough, it had the basics. Bucky had even left some rations. It was so off the beaten track that there was no chance of anyone stumbling across the place. You couldn’t help but wonder how Bucky had found it. Every time Bucky discovered a new safe house, the week following was filled with maps, questions and what if scenarios. It bordered on obsessive the way he quizzed and challenged you until he was satisfied. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. It wasn’t a normal activity for a couple but you didn’t care. If it meant being with Bucky, making him happy, then it was worth it.

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It was midday when you woke up. You had been that tired you hadn’t even bothered to take off your shoes as when you collapsed onto the mattress. As you sat up you were momentarily confused by your surroundings only for the events of the last 12 hours to sneak up on you triggering a groan of frustration. You glanced at your watch. Bucky had just over 30 hours to get here before you left. How likely was that? There was every possibility that the HYDRA brainwashing could still be determining his actions. The best you could hope for was when he was finally himself again, he remembered you enough to try and track you down. At this point there was nothing you could apart from sit and plan out your next move. Of course, you wanted Bucky to walk through the door, sweep you into his arms and end this nightmare but you had to plan for the worst. Bucky would hate for you not to follow the plan. It was one devised to keep you safe, which was his priority. He had tried to prepare you for this eventuality and there was no way you were going to let him down.

You spent the best part of the next 24 hours trying to figure out where to go next. Even though Bucky wasn’t there he had given you a head start by circling a couple of places on the map hidden in your bag. Scotland seemed like a sensible next step; you had plenty of money and the lack of a language barrier would certainly help. The evening was focused on changing your appearance. It had to be convincing enough to fool anyone looking for you but similar enough to the photo in your fake UK passport. You used the scissors you found in the rudimentary kitchen to cut your hair into a choppy bob, adding a fringe to add a little more anonymity. There was little else you could do apart from using some coffee to darken your hair. As you looked into the cracked mirror you shrugged, it wasn’t much but you definitely less recognisable. All that was left to do now was get some rest. Only 6 more hours to go.

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“Just 10 more minutes” you mumbled to yourself. You paced back and forth on the creaking floor of the hut. If you delayed your departure, even just a little, maybe he might show up. The idea of leaving and him showing up once you were gone was sickening. So, you waited for as long as you reasonably could. An hour later as the sun started to dip behind the trees you reluctantly gathered up your bag and made your way out of the hut. Immediately after you closed the door behind you, you got the sense that something wasn’t quite right.  Your eyes scanned the treeline in front of you and to your dismay something was moving. There wasn’t any time for you to find a place to hide. The sound of twigs snapping under foot was getting closer by the second.

Captain America stepped into the clearing and came closer the instantaneous sense of relief vanished as quickly as it had appeared. You shivered involuntarily as you saw the blood covering his face, the rips in his uniform. Worry and exhaustion evident in his eyes as he stepped closer. “Steve?” Your voice came out as a whisper but thankfully he seemed to have heard you. “Um hi, I’m sorry I don’t know who you are. I was given these coordinates by Bucky and I…” You stepped forward at cut him off “Where is he? Is he ok? Why isn’t he here?” You could feel the blood rushing through your head, your fists clenched around the straps of your bag. Steve’s frowned, his eyes studying you intently. “He’s on the jet.” He scratched the back of his neck “We were in a bit of a fight. He’ll be fine, just needs to rest. Left him sleeping.” Steve didn’t miss the way your eyes widened and then contracted to glare at him. He resisted the urge to chuckle at you, but he was a little scared of how you would react, he didn’t really want to piss you off more than you already were. “Why are we still stood here then?” Steve gestured to you to follow him “I’ll take you to him.” You followed him without a second thought. All you wanted was to see Bucky, to feel the warmth of his body next to yours.

For the next couple of minutes, the two of you walked in complete silence, Steve walking a couple of steps in front of you leading the way. He was even more impressive in person, even when he had clearly had the shit beaten out of him. Steve was slightly taller and wider than Bucky but you could see by the way he carried himself that he was less agile. All you knew was that whoever they had been fighting must have come off much worse than the super soldiers. “We’re nearly there. I’m really sorry, I still don’t know your name?” “Shit, sorry. I’m Y/N. You mentioned Bucky’s name and I kinda forgot about everything else.” Steve glanced over his shoulder and sent you a small smile. “I know the feeling, he has that effect on people.” A minute later, he suddenly stopped in front of you making you nearly collide with him. The jet was standing in a small clearing ahead. Steve placed a gentle hand on your shoulder and looked down at you softly. “I don’t want you to get too much of a shock. It looks worse than in is. I promise he’s going to be alright.” You bit your lip and nodded slowly, trusting the man you barely knew.

Bucky was resting again the side of the jet. You bit back a cry as your eyes swept over him. His face was covered in blood and despite his accelerated healing the swelling was gruesome. But your eyes were drawn to his left arm, or lack of arm. He was still sleeping as you knelt down in front of him. You removed the bag off your shoulders and opened it to fish out the first aid kit. Steve came and stood next to you. “I’m gonna fire her up. I’m taking him to Wakanda. King T’Challa has offered us sanctuary there. I can drop you somewhere on the way if you want?” Your attention remained on the box in your hand. “Thanks Steve, but I go where he goes.” You shot a quick look up at him. Steve just nodded before heading off to the front of the jet.

Sitting back on your calves your eyes scanned over the wounds on Bucky’s face again. Some of them were healing up already. All you needed to do was clean off the blood and clean then deeper gashes around his eyes and mouth. “Take a picture it’ll last longer.” Bucky’s voice sounded quieter than normal but the slight teasing tone told you he was ok. His blue eyes found yours and held them, no words were needed. Bucky winced slightly as he leaned to cup your cheek in his hand, his thumb tenderly wiping away the tears that had begun fall. Your hand went up to rest on his, holding him to you. “I thought I lost you.” The statement was barely audible. Bucky pulled his hand away from your face and held your hand in his. “Doll you don’t ever need to worry about that. I will always find my way back to you no matter what.” He pulled your hand up to his lips. “I love you Y/N.” You sat up on your knees and pushed a rogue bit of hair back off his face. “I love you Bucky Barnes.”

Bucky let you clean him up, his eyes glued to you the whole time. Once you were satisfied that his physical wounds had been properly seen to, you sat down next to him, your thigh brushing against his. You looked across him and saw his eyes flicking between you and the floor. Normally this kind of proximity was welcomed but you knew his was nervous. Scared that he could inflict damage with even the smallest of touches. “I know it’s a dumb question but how are you doing?” His jaw clenched and you could see him trying to construct an answer he thought you might want to hear. “Honestly Buck.” Your tone warm but demanded the truth. He rested his head against wall and let out a heavy sigh. “I’m alright physically. My arm doesn’t hurt but I just can’t trust myself, my mind. All it took was 10 words and I was gone, nothing but a brainwashed assassin.” He flinched as you placed you hand on his thigh, for an awful minute you thought he was going to pull away. Bucky took a deep breath before looking at you, his eyes expressing emotions he couldn’t vocalise. “You’re not a monster.” He opened his mouth to argue but you stopped him. “No. You listen to me. I love you. Yes, you have done bad things, but it wasn’t really you. You are a good man James, nothing could convince me otherwise.” He bit at his bottom lip and his eyebrows fused together. Hesitantly he lifted his arm up and placed it over your shoulder. You leaned into him and rested your head on his shoulder. “I couldn’t live with myself if I ever hurt you Y/N.” Nestling further into him you shifted your arm so that it was draped around his abdomen, anchoring him to you. “You won’t hurt me. I trust you with my life.” Bucky didn’t want to argue with you so left it at that. He kissed the top of your head before resting his head on top of yours. After the events of the last couple of days he allowed himself to relax a little, watching as your eyes fluttered shut and your breathing deepened.

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Steve sidled over an hour later. He looked at his best friend and his girl. “She’s a good one Buck. Most would run but she seems pretty determined.” Bucky smiled. “Yeah I don’t deserve her.” Steve frowned. “How did you meet?” Steve lowered himself down against the opposite wall of the jet and tried to work some of the tension out of his shoulders. “Actually, I have you to thank for that.” Steve’s eyebrows raised in confusion and question. “The day I pulled you out of the river. I made it to the park and collapsed onto a bench.” Steve grimaced remembering the fight on the Helicarriers. “She was heading home from the shift from the hospital and found me. Insisted on taking me back to hers to patch me up. Wouldn’t take no for an answer and here we are.” Listening to his friend, Steve couldn’t help but feel sad and a little jealous. He didn’t know if he would feel the same love that Bucky did. Peggy’s funeral had been 3 days ago and the woman he had a crush turned out to be her niece, which made things a little more complicated. Now with the events of the last week cementing his criminal status, no woman in their right mind would go anywhere near him. Despite being apart for over 70 years, Bucky could still read Steve like a book. “Hey punk, you’ll find someone. If someone can love me after being brainwashed for years then I am certain that you will.” Steve gave a half-hearted smile before getting to his feet. “I’m gonna head back to the front, we must be getting close now.”

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“Doll, we’re here” Bucky lightly tightened his arm around your shoulder. The sunshine was streaming in through the open ramp making you squint as you tried to open your eyes. “You two ready for this?” Steve had appeared and was stood in front of you, hand holding the front of his belt, as he slipped back into Captain America mode. You glanced across to Bucky who was already looking at you, ready to answer the unspoken question. He nodded at you and you turned back to Steve. “Yeah, let’s do this”. Steve helped the pair of you to your feet and started to lead the way out onto the landing strip. Bucky stayed close to you, his fingers brushing against yours as you walked out into the heat.

The royal welcome party greeted you all warmly. Bucky was clearly nervous, his hand twined around yours and keeping you tucked against him. Steve was in a deep conversation with the King when a young girl introduced as Shuri approached you and Bucky. “I can fix you. It would be easy. Well for me anyway.” You felt Bucky shift awkwardly next to you, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. “Uh thanks, but I don’t have the rest of my arm.” The princess laughed. “I could manufacture you a new arm with my eyes closed but that wasn’t what I was talking about. I’m talking about the stuff in your head.” Steve diverted his attention to the conversation immediately. Bucky’s mouth was hung open in shock. “What do you mean?” You voice shaking slightly as you asked the question Bucky couldn’t. Shuri rolled her eyes. “The brain is like a computer, it’s just a case of reprogramming.”  Bucky tried to suppress the hope currently rising within him. “Your saying you get out what HYDRA put into my head?” Shuri grinned. “For sure, just need to take a look in there.” She pointed to his head. Bucky’s face fell, the last thing he wanted was someone else poking around in his head. “My sister is very capable Sergeant Barnes. Take some time to think it through. You are welcome to stay as long as you want. All of you.” The King looked at you and smiled.

In the evening after washing away the events of the last few days, you walked into the living room of the suite to find Steve and Bucky huddled together talking in quiet voices. Shuri had shown them around her labs before they were taken to their rooms. She had you convinced in an instant that she could cure Bucky. You had watched the cogs turn in Bucky’s mind as he considered what was being offered to him as Shuri removed the last parts of his metal arm. It wasn’t your decision to make but you were determined to support him whichever way. The two super soldiers stopped their whispering as you walked closer to them, Bucky sitting up and looking at smiling softly at you. “Hey doll, how you feeling?” You took the seat next to him. “I’m alright just a bit tired.” Steve watched the interaction between the two of you. He knew the conversation that needed to happen, wouldn’t, if he stayed. Awkwardly he dragged himself up onto his feet and made his goodbyes, leaving you and Bucky in silence.

His bottom lip was nipped between his teeth, a sizable distance between you on the sofa. His face was set, his eyes cast down trying to mask the sadness. “You’ve made up your mind, haven’t you?” Bucky nodded still not raising his head. Moving yourself off the sofa you came to kneel in front of him, your hands resting on his knees. You tilted your head until your eyes found his. “It’s ok. Whatever you have decided it’s ok.” His hand landed on yours, fingers knitting together. “I’m going to let Shuri try. She came to see me whilst you were in the shower. I think she can fix me, it shouldn’t take her long but …” His eyes closed briefly as he tried to find the right words. “I don’t trust myself. Not whilst this stuff is in my mind still. I’m going to into cryo again.” Your free hand ran up and down his calf. “Hey, look at me Buck.” Hesitantly he met your gaze, clearly worried about your reaction. “It’s alright, I’m proud of you. It was always your decision to make, I’ll still be here when you wake up again.” He shook his head. “It shouldn’t be like this. You deserve someone unbroken, who can give you the life you deserve.” You pulled your hand from his and sat back, your hand running through your hair, a frustrated groan living your lips. “So, we are back to this again. I decide what kind of life I want to have, not you. I choose you. Do you think I would have followed you around the world if I didn’t? When are you going to accept that you’re stuck with me Bucky? What do I have to do to convince you?” Hot tears ran down your cheeks, your lips pressed into a tight line trying to remain as composed as you could. “I’m sorry” His voice barely above a whisper. “Y/N, I’m sorry.” Bucky repeated those words like a mantra. Over and over again, his head hidden under his hand, rocking back and forth slightly. The sight of him in such a state made you feel guilty. The last couple of days clearly had taken their toll on him both physically and emotionally. You perched on the arm of the sofa and manoeuvred Bucky so that his head was resting against your chest, hand carding through his dark brown locks. “Hey, you’re alright. I’m here.” His arm circled your waist, clinging to you. “I’m sorry” he repeated. “I know. Me too.”

Both of you sat like that for a while. Bucky not wanting to let you go anytime soon, pulled you off the arm of the sofa and onto his lap. “When?” The single word loaded with an enormous weight. “Tomorrow.” You felt your heart sink, you had only just got him back and you were going to lose him. Yes, it wasn’t permanent and it was for his own good, but the couple of days you had been apart had made you realise that your life had little meaning without him.  Bucky sensed the disappointment in you. “It’s not for long. Just think that after, we could have a normal life?” You nodded against his shoulder not trusting your voice.

Steve joined both of you later for dinner. Bucky and Steve chatted animatedly, reminiscing about their childhood. It was as if they had never been apart the way they teased each other, laughing and joking as they recalled stories.  All of you kept the conversation light and avoided talking about anything too serious. Steve enquired about your life before meeting Bucky so you gave him a history of your childhood and life in New York. He listened intently and commented on how much New York had changed since they were kids. Time slipped away from you all and before you knew it, it was midnight. Steve headed off to his room, promising to join you tomorrow morning before heading down to Shuri’s lab.  

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You watched Bucky come out of the bathroom, his boxers hanging low in his hips. A smattering of blue and purple bruises still evident across his toned torso. He climbed into the bed next to you, leaving space between you. Taking the initiative you shuffled over towards him. You kissed the scars on his shoulder where his arm had been joined, then moved your mouth over his body pressing your lips to every bruise you could see. “Doll, I can’t.” From where you were now straddling his hips, you looked up at him through your lashes and murmured between kisses. “Can’t or won’t?” The hardness you could feel forming below gave you the answer. Bucky closed his eyes and slammed his head back into the pillow. “I trust you. Let me take care of you.” You sat up, your hips naturally grinding against his with the movement.  He groaned at the sensation, his eyes fluttering open. He sat up slowly, his eyes searching yours for any doubt or worries. He didn’t find any. You leaned forwards crashing your lips into his. Your tongue flicked across his lips and they parted instantly allowing you access, the kiss becoming more heated instantly. Tongues battling with one another, making both of you moan into each other’s mouths. Bucky missed his metal arm as he could hold you tightly against him like he wanted to, instead he had to settle for pressing his hand on your lower back, pushing you to him. Your hips wiggled at his touch creating a delicious friction. Bucky moved his mouth from yours and trailed kisses along you jaw before travelling down your neck, nipping and sucking at the delicate skin as he went. One of your hands held onto the back of his neck acting as an anchor whilst the other trailed along the muscles of his back, nails dragging, leaving faint red lines in their wake.

“Doll, your shirt”. You leaned back and pulled your top off. Bucky’s mouth instantly made its way to your breasts. His tongue flicked over your hardened nipples, before taking one into his mouth. You threw your head back and gasped as he bit down gently before withdrawing, licking and kissing the sensitive skin and then repeating the process on the other. Whilst Bucky’s attention was directed at your chest you moved your hand down between you and under the band of his boxers. As your hand grasped his hardened length, Bucky released a growl. Your fingertips glided over his most sensitive part, making his buck up into your hand. “Doll” he gasped as your hand moved and twisted along his length. “Y/N” His voice strained as he tried to remain in control. You removed your hand and pushed Bucky back onto the bed. Standing up, you quickly removed your dampened underwear. Bucky started to pull his off but was struggling, you stepped closer to him and helped ease them off his body. You sucked in a breath at the sight in front of you. Bucky shifted his hips; your eyes tracked the movement and you heard him chuckle. “Come on doll, the anticipation is killing me here.” A devious smile formed on your lips. “I promised to take care of you.” You straddled his hips once again, rocking back a couple of times, covering him with your wetness. “But I’m going to make you wait.”

Bucky bit back a moan as you skated your hand down your body, tracing the curves of your breasts before guiding it lower to your core. He watched as your fingers circled your clit, occasionally flicking over the sensitive nub.  He couldn’t take his eyes off you. He watched as your head tilted back and your eyes fluttered close as you brought yourself nearer to the edge. The sight along with your cries of pleasure nearly made him come prematurely like an excited teenager. The movements quickened and your breath became ragged as you neared your climax. Your free hand massaged your breasts and Bucky placed his hand on the other, pinching and rolling the nipple between his fingers. Your orgasm tore through your body, one hand keeping the pressure on your clit the other falling to Bucky’s chest to hold yourself up.

Bucky’s cock was throbbing now, the show you had just given him had whipped him up into a frenzy. His hand squeezed your thigh urging you to do something. Taking the hint, you took him in your hand and guided him easily into your heat. Both of you gasping as you sank down until he was fully seated. You stayed still for a couple of seconds getting comfortable with the stretch. Bucky moved his hand to your hips as you started to rock back and forth. “Jesus doll” he panted, already so worked up from before he had to try and calm himself down. His eyes locked onto yours. You leaned down, placing your hands either side of Bucky’s face, lips colliding once again. Your hips quickened the pace as Bucky began to thrust up into you. The knot in your stomach was tightening once again, you gasped into Bucky’s mouth as he began to thrust harder and faster into you. Suddenly he pulled out of you completely and you whimpered at the loss. He repositioned you so that you were on all fours and he was knelt behind you. It wasn’t exactly what he wanted, but was the best he could do whilst missing an arm. He pushed himself back into you and set a punishing pace, his hand gripped your shoulder as he pulled you to meet his thrusts. You screamed as you once again neared the edge. “Doll, touch yourself. Please.” The desperation in his voice made you obey immediately. Your fingers circled your swollen clit, your walls starting to flutter. Pleasure overtook your body and you fought to keep yourself upright as your legs began to tremble. You shouted out Bucky’s name as you reached your high. As your walls clamped and pulsated around him, his thrusts became sloppier. He chanted your name before releasing himself inside you with a grunt. After a final few thrusts he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled your flat against his chest, lowering you down onto the bed.

Both of you were covered in a film of sweat, panting as you tried to catch your breath. Bucky placed tender kisses to your shoulder before nuzzling against your neck. “I love you Buck” you whispered as your eyes began to close from exhaustion. “I love you too Y/N.” Bucky wasn’t sure if you heard him or not as he heard your breathing change and drift off to sleep, not even bothering to untangle yourself from him. Carefully as not to wake you he removed himself from you and awkwardly got himself out of bed. You didn’t stir as he cleaned you up or has he curled up behind you. For the first time this week Bucky allowed himself to fall asleep.

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The mood in the morning was sombre. Even Steve had an air of sadness to him when he arrived for breakfast. None of you spoke, just occasionally sending a half-hearted smile at one another. An hour later the three of you headed down to the lab. Bucky held your hand tightly the whole way there and was reluctant to let to when King T’Challa offered his hand to shake. “Sergeant Barnes, are you sure about this?” Bucky seemed to doubt his decision for a second but then he looked at Steve and then at you. “Yes.” His eyes never left yours as he replied. “Let’s just get this over with.” King T’Challa patted him on his shoulder and nodded his approval. “I’ll give you all a minute.” Both himself and Shuri stepped out of the room leaving just you, Steve and Bucky. “I’m proud of you Buck.” Steve gave Bucky a bear hug. Bucky leaned in and whispered something inaudible in Steve’s ear to which Steve nodded before they broke apart. Your bottom lip was trembling as Bucky stepped closer to you. “Doll, please don’t cry. If you cry I want be able to go through with this.” You nodded before burying your head into his chest, arms clinging to him. He kissed the top of your head delicately. You tilted your head up to his and kissed him. It wasn’t a heated kiss but it was filled with everything you wanted to say. The door opened and Bucky prised himself from you.

You watched as Shuri closed the door to the cryogenic chamber. Bucky’s face was still visible from inside. He looked directly at you and mouthed “I love you.” You smiled back at him “I love you too.” Shuri turned on the machine, the sound of the cold air being pumped into the chamber. As your knees began to buckle a strong pair of arms circled you and held you upright. The tears that had been threatening falling cascading down your cheeks. Steve held onto you tightly, already keeping the promise he had made to his best friend moments ago. When Steve finally released you, you glanced back to look at Bucky. A fresh wave of tears formed but you took comfort from how peaceful he looked, as if he could be sleeping. You didn’t want to leave him but couldn’t find it within you to fight Steve as he led you away.

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

The next three months flew by. The civil war in Wakanda had started and ended with little warning. Instead of leaving, when it was suggested by Shuri, you had immediately offered your services as a nurse and helped tend to the wounded and even doubled up as her lab assistant during emergencies. It was the least you could do really, the hospitality you had been shown during your stay was incredible. Steve had left to go and rescue Sam and the others from the Raft. He phoned you every now and again to check on the progress with Bucky but you got the sense that it was to check up on you too.

You were sat by the lake just by the hut T’Challa had provided for you when your thoughts were suddenly interrupted. “I told you I could fix him.” You turned to find Shuri strolling down the hill towards you. “You mean it’s done?” She grinned back at you. “Of course, it was simple really. We need to wake him up to be certain though but all of my analysis says it should have worked.” It was almost too good to be true. Shuri turned and started walking back up the hill. “Are you coming? I don’t think Sergeant Barnes will be happy if he wakes up and you’re not there.” You nearly tumble over in your rush to catch up with the Princess. The butterflies in your stomach making you feel sick.

Shuri switched off the machine and you watched nervously as Bucky’s eyes blinked open. She opened the door and you walked towards him. Shuri took his hand as he stepped out, a little unsteady on his feet. You placed your arm around his waist for support and helped Shuri lead him over to the bed and got him to sit on the side. “Y/N” his voice croaked. “Hi, I missed you.” You picked up his hand and held his palm to your cheek. For a couple of minutes, you just looked at one another, taking in every last detail.

“Sorry to interrupt. How are you feeling Sergeant Barnes?” You lowered Bucky’s hand but still held onto it. “Fine, just a little cold. Did it work?” Shuri nodded. “We won’t know until we try to say the words. I have them here I just need to get someone to read them whilst I scan your brain.” Bucky’s face fell slightly. “I’ll do it.” Shuri nodded but Bucky looked at you in horror. “Doll no. I don’t want you to seem me like that. Plus, you can’t speak any Russian.” You stepped back and looked at him dead on. “You wouldn’t hurt me, I trust you. And I can speak Russian.” He looked at you confused. “You talk in your sleep, I picked up a bit and then learnt a little every time you went away.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Ok let’s do this Sergeant Barnes.” Shuri said lightly.

Bucky continued to argue as Shuri attached the scanner to his head and scowled as she handed you the list. He insisted that you stand on the other side of the room which you agreed to. Shuri gave you the signal and you crossed your fingers as you said the first word.  You watched as Bucky scrunched up his face and gripped the edge of the bed but it didn’t seem to have much impact. The next 6 words passed in a similar vein, no reaction, not indication on the scanner of any abnormal activity. You paused briefly. “Come on Y/N keep going.” Bucky growled at you, eager to get this over with, wanting to get the disappointment out of the way. You said the last three words and studied Bucky. Shuri was smiling and raised her fist in the air in celebration. But Bucky didn’t seem wholly convinced. “Say them again Y/N but one after another.” You followed Bucky’s command, not taking your eyes off of him.

Bucky opened his eyes and saw you watching him nervously. He then turned to Shuri, not wanting to celebrate too early. “It’s official Sergeant Barnes, I’m a genius. No sign of electrical activity at the trigger words. I would say you are cured.” A grin spread across his face, his features losing every last bit of tension and worry. Shuri removed the scanner and left the room. You walked towards him, tears of happiness in your eyes. He pulled you so that you were standing in between his legs, your hands on his shoulders. “I love you Y/N.” Dipping your head down, you pressed your lips to his. “I love you too.” Bucky wiped the tears from your face with his thumb and rested your forehead against his. “I’m all yours doll. If you still want me.” You drew back from him to look into his blue eyes. “Always. Just as I am yours.” In that moment as you looked at the man you loved with your whole heart, you felt complete. Everything was exactly how it should be. Somehow you knew that you could take on any challenge the world might throw at you as long as you were together.  

Taglist is open so let me know if you want in

Taglist: @stargazingfangirl18 ,  @silentcoyotesong, @queenofstarliqht​, @buckys-henley​, @lonelyheartsm​ @alexa-lightwood-blog​

[buckysnumberonegirl]

Flash Forward- The fall of a friend

Part 4

Pairing(s)- Hugh Drysdale x Reader(in a marvel fanfic)

Warnings- angst, a touch of fluff, a break in

For previous chapters click here- Masterlist

Hi loves, this chapter was a tiny bit shorter than the others I’ve been busy with work, so I figured I’d help build up our bad guy . I hope you enjoy 💕 reblogs and comments are appreciated as always 🦾

You had a good feeling as you woke up. You got dressed and flitted around your kitchen. Hugh was going to be there anytime now. He came over every morning since, well...

You continued to maintain everything when Steve went overseas, even allowing Hugh to come with you to help weed the yard and mow. But that day you went by yourself. You arrived half an hour earlier that you usually would, traffic was light and you wanted to get to the supermarket early. You knew something was wrong when you saw the brick was moved.

On your 16th birthday Bucky got you a tiny handgun, telling you that the world was dangerous. You kept it on you ever since, reaching into your pocketbook now gripping the cool metal. The door to Steve’s home was slightly open, enough that you could see that papers had been thrown around. You opened it the rest of the way and walked in, gun in hand.

You looked in horror at the pictures of Steve’s family shattered on the floor. Drawers open things strewn about.

You felt your heart pounding as you heard muffled voices coming from upstairs. And then footsteps down the stairs. You hid quickly in the living room as you heard more glass breaking and then the door slam.

Tears slid down your face as you remained silent, unmoving as you feared what might happen if you unfroze.

You didn’t know how long it had been when you finally let out a breath. Picking up the picture of Steve and his mother. The frame was broken and the glass was cracked. You almost dropped it and a shard sliced open your finger leaving a small crimson line. You fell to the floor sobbing, these men had broken everything. The plants you cared for were broken, the dirt covering the floor.

You started to clean everything. Saving what you could, getting rid of what you couldn’t. You didn’t know what you would tell Steve. He hadn’t written to you since you saw him in New York, although you had hoped maybe he would.

A knock on the door made your heart stop. You scrambled for your handgun.

Peeking out the window you saw Hugh waiting patiently. You opened the door and pulled him into a hug. “Hey I would have opened the door on my own but I wasn’t sure if you’d be here yet..” he looked around the hallway into the house seeing the broken glass and plant pots “oh my god dove what happened”

‘There were men here when I got here, I… I thought maybe I could...I didn’t know there would be more than one’

Hugh helped you clean for the rest of the day trying to put everything back in order, from then you both decided it was best for you to only go once a week with him.

Now you had a Wednesday routine of heading to Steve’s with Hugh, 7:30 sharp so he wouldn’t be late for work. This morning you decided to make coffee for him hoping to have a moment to talk.

Hugh walked in with the paper and handed it to you placing a kiss on your forehead. “Morning Dove, I grabbed the mail for you it seems like you forgot it yesterday” you could have sworn you had brought everything in when you got home but decided not to argue.

Then your heart skipped a beat, a letter from the army. You grabbed your letter opener and quickly opened it hoping to find a letter from Bucky or Steve.

Dear Ms Y/L/N, It is with my deepest regret that I must inform you that your cousin Lieutenant James B. Barnes 32557038, of the 107 is missing. As you are his next of kin we wished to write to you to express our deepest sympathy.

You stopped reading. Once again you found yourself frozen in time. Bucky was missing. The only family you had left, gone. You felt rage bubble up in your throat. Steve should have written you that letter. Steve should have written you something to tell you. Bucky was his best friend, did he not care that he was gone.

Hugh cleared his throat “what does it say?” You opened your mouth to speak and felt a sob escape ‘My cousin, he’s missing I…’ you dropped the letter and fell into His arms crying. He held you tightly and stroked your hair. “I’ll take the day off today Dove, we can stay in today, okay?” You nodded.

In your sadness and fury you failed to notice that the date on the letter was from over a month ago, before you saw Steve even.

Hugh spent the whole day with you taking you to the park and trying to cheer you up. He left kissing you goodnight and offering once again for you to come stay with him.

As Hugh drove home that night he pulled off to the side of the road. Stepping out of his car he walked into a darkened alleyway. Three men were there waiting for him. One of them came up as he rolled down his window. “We got Barnes, do you have the girl”

Hugh smiled an evil look in his eyes “soon”

[justahopelessssromantic]

Hi I was wondering if you could do a request where the reader served with coco in the army and they had a sort of thing but nothing serious. And then the reader goes to find coco for protection after something happens in her life and then loads of fluff. Sorry it’s long and if you don’t have time don’t worry. Thanks ✌🏻

*I’m sorry if this isn’t what you quite had in mind, actually when I was about done with it I started thinking I kind of took it another direction than you were intending. My mind just took the idea and ran a little crazy with it so again I’m sorry if this wasn’t what you were wanting. Thank you so much for the request and sending your great idea. I hope you enjoy and I hope there’s enough fluff for ya! The beginning is a little intense and angsty so I hope you don’t mind and if it’s too much for anyone feel free to skip past the whole flashback scene it will be in italics. Anyways thanks again and I hope you like it! Let me know what you think ❤️😁*

*gif not mine*

Warnings: Violence, blood, gore, death, trauma, physical and emotional abuse. Fluff in the second half.

~Flashback~

On the top floor of an old building laid Coco as he looked through his scope out one of the busted windows. You were beside him crouched with your back against the wall, rifle in hand as you chatted casually even though everything about your surroundings was anything but casual.

“The first thing I’m gonna do when I get home is take a long bubble bath,” you moaned imagining the hot water soaking your sore and tired muscles, “And then I’m ordering food from every restaurant I’ve been craving, all of them at once,” your stomach growled as you thought of the countless burgers, pizzas, steaks, pastas, and deserts you had been so desperately craving as of late, “And I’m gonna just lounge around in the fluffy robe stuffing my face as I binge whatever crap show may be gracing my tv screen that night.” You chuckled

Coco chuckled, “Oh, is that all?” He teased as he surveyed the building across the way, searching for any movement, “When I get back I’m buying the most expensive bed I can and sleeping, forever. My back is getting real tired of the shitty excuse for beds we got here.”

“When I get back home, I’m going to take my wife out on the most romantic date,” Jefferson said from the other side of the room as he kept an eye on the back of the building, “And then I’m taking my kids to an amusement park, going all out, no stops.”

“And when is Sarah due?” You asked. Jefferson was a proud family man and he was quick to tell everyone he met all about his wife and kids. You thought that was sweet, it’s how he kept them close he would say.

“Just two more months,” he grinned as he looked back at you, “It’s a girl.” His smile widened, “Gonna name her Julia.”

“What’s that? Four girls now?” Coco asked, “Damn if you don’t get killed out here they certainly will.” He joked.

“It’s definitely scary,” he quipped back, “I’m outnumbered in my own damn home.”

You shook your head laughing as you stood up and made your way to Jefferson. You got about halfway when there was the shattering noise of glass, your smile vanishing instantly at the sound as you caught sight of a small object flying into the room from the corner of your eye landing right beside Jefferson.

“Jefferson!” You screamed as you ran towards him, hoping to be able to do something, anything to save him. The image of his family flashing before your eyes, and his.

It all happened so fast, before you could get far there was a deafening boom and then you were being thrown back violently, your body crashing against the hard floor. You couldn’t hear shit, just a loud persistent ringing that made your head feel like it was going to explode, as dirt, blood and debris rained down all around you.

“(Y/L/N)!” Coco called out over all the noise, and his own ringing in his head, “Fuckin’ answer me dammit!” He coughed violently as he searched through the cloud of dust, his lungs filling with the polluted air.

All he could see was blood and limbs. Fuck this wasn’t good. His heart hitched as he started to fear the worst but then he heard it, it was faint but enough to alert him, a cough. He tread carefully in the direction of the sound when he saw a body, your body. His heart immediately dropped to his stomach. There you were laying across the ground, covered in blood, some yours and most Jefferson’s, and the bottom part of your right leg just below the knee was missing, blood gushing violently from the mangled appendage.

“Shit!” He said as he scrambled over to you. Kneeling beside you he looked to your face, your eyes closing, “No! C’mon stay with me, stay with me (Y/N)!” He slapped at your face trying to bring you back to him.

Opening your eyes you groaned. The pain in your leg was intense and your eyelids were heavy as they tried to stay open. You saw Johnny and mustered out a smile that came out more as a grimace.

At least he was okay.

“Fuck, good,” He breathed out a sigh a relief, “Stay with me ok?” He pleaded as he turned his attention to your most obvious injury.

“Jefferson…” you croaked out. He just shook his head, telling you all you needed to know. There would be time to mourn but for now you had to push the thought away.

You would think with each loss the pain would get easier, but it never did.

The searing physical pain returned your attention back to your own injuries, most importantly your leg, “Cruz my leg,” you moaned trying to move, “What’s wrong with my fucking leg!?” You tried to sit up, to see the damage, but he placed his hand on your chest keeping you down.

“Don’t. Just look at me, okay. Keep your eyes on my face,” he instructed. Taking his knife out he cut a strip off your already torn pants as he returned his attention to your leg, knowing he had to act fast before you lost too much blood.

“Oh god, am I gonna die?” You whispered as you tried to keep your eyes open, fear setting in, “I can’t die. I can’t have the last thing I see in this world be your ugly mug,” you joked pathetically trying to distract yourself from the gnawing fear that was threatening to consume you.

He snickered half heartedly,at least you still had your shit humor, as he tied the piece of fabric tightly around your leg as a tourniquet, “Then you fight, you hear me? You don’t want this face to be the last thing you see, then stay alive.”

Nodding your head you tried to keep your attention on his face, taking in every detail, trying to commit it all to memory, to keep your mind busy and active before it became too much and your eyes drooped shut.

Once he was done he scooted over and gently placed your head in his lap. Acutely aware of your breathing and all of his surroundings, he murmured a quick prayer to whoever may be listening, “Don’t let me fucking lose her.”

You two had a bit of a fling but your relationship would always be a friendship first and foremost. You were his best friend, his right hand and he was your left, a true team. Losing you would be like losing a part of him. This life was hard enough he didn’t think he could survive that.

He stayed with you until help came, and then refused to leave your side until you were at the hospital where all he could do was sit in the small waiting area for you.

Your last day in the hospital was the last you had seen that ‘ugly mug’ of Johnny Cruz.

~End Flashback~

Now here you were outside the gates to his place of work, hoping he would take you in and provide you with some comfort and protection, even after the long years of having lost touch.

You felt awful now but at the time after that traumatic experience you cut him off, but in your defense you cut everyone off. You were so angry at him, Jefferson, the world and mostly yourself.

You couldn’t help but think it should have been you that day who was killed, you didn’t have a family or anyone to go home to, Jefferson did. Meanwhile the same thoughts consumed Coco. It should have him too or at the very least it should have been him who lost a limb and not you.

You were in a dark place for a while after that.

Then you met Paul, and everything seemed so great. He took care of you, helped you out with everything, you could always lean on him. But what you didn’t realize was that he fed off your brokenness, your need to be taken care of and when you started to snap out of it, get yourself back, he felt threatened, which turned to physical and emotional abuse.

The small rumbling of a scooter alerted you to the presence of a man as he pulled up beside you wearing a sparkling red helmet and goggles.

“Can I help you?” He asked with a kind smile on his face.

“Yes, actually,” You replied, fiddling with your hands nervously in front of you, “Do you know if Johnny Cruz is here?”

The man’s smile grew as he replied, “Yes, I’ll let him know he has a visitor. Chucky by the way,” He extended his hand out, shaking your hand rather excitedly.

“(Y/N)”, you smiled back at him. You noticed his prosthetic hands but didn’t say anything, knowing not everyone was comfortable sharing their stories, however still you wonder just what had happened to the man.

“Come on in,” he said as he drove into the the yard and parked his scooter before bouncing off into the building.

You took one last look back at your vehicle, contemplating turning back around before sucking it up and walking through the gates towards the building you had just watched Chucky disappear into.

Chucky burst through the doors just as the guys were getting out of Templo, the large smile never leaving his face, but that wasn’t unusual for the strange man who had become family to the club.

“Where’s the fire, Chucky?” Bishop asked as he watched the man practically bouncing in place.

“There’s a woman here to see you Johnny Coco Cruz,” he said addressing Coco, “very pretty.” Chucky added.

All the men turned to look at Coco but he was just as confused as them. He didn’t know of any women who would come looking for him here besides Letty but Chucky and all the guys already knew her.

“Another baby mama?” Angel teased as he walked past and behind the bar to grab a beer, popping the top with a satisfying snap.

“I fuckin’ hope not,” Coco groaned as he tried to think who could possibly be looking for him.

“She said her name was (Y/N).”

Coco’s heart stopped for a moment . He hadn’t heard from you in forever and hadn’t seen you in even longer. You were the last person he was expecting to see here in Santo Padre.

“Did you say (Y/N)?” Angel asked as he passed some beers around, “Wasn’t that the girl you had a fling with while you were serving?” He recognized your name as Coco often talked of you and your time together.

“It wasn’t just a fling,” Coco said reflecting on your time together.

“Well what are you waiting for, hermano? You can’t just leave her hanging out there all day,” Angel said, “I’ll go get her.” He always wanted to meet you, having heard so much about you. He was curious to know the face behind the legend.

Before Coco could stop him Angel was strutting out the front door, Coco and the rest of the men trailing behind as Chucky stood back and watched.

“Coco you never said she was a fucking babe,” Angel remarked, as he stepped out the door, his loud voice catching your attention.

Coco stepped out just behind Angel as he stared at you standing just a few feet away, a smile instantly gracing his face. You looked good, great even, just as he remembered as you stood there staring back at him, matching his smile in every way.

He bounded down the stairs rapidly before pulling you into a tight hug almost knocking you back and off balance. You wrapped your arms around him just as tightly clinging on for dear life, “I’m so sorry I was shit at keeping contact,” you muttered into the embrace.

“Doesn’t fuckin’ matter, you’re here now,” he reassured you before he pulled back holding you at arms length to get another good look at you, you doing the same.

“Looks like you got a little chubby,” you teased, “One to many beers?” He looked anything but that and you could see the toned muscles of his arms through his shirt, still you couldn’t help yourself from giving him crap.

“You’re one to talk,” he teased back, the banter between you flowing as naturally as if you had spent no time apart.

“Hey! I lost a good chunk of weight, or do you not remember?” You grinned at him.

He chuckled, “Good to see your humors still shit. I’ve missed that, missed you.” He said earnestly.

“Yeah and I missed your ugly mug,” you teased some more,bumping his shoulder with yours.

“Yo Coco you gonna introduce us or what?” Angel called from the top of the steps.

Wrapping his arm around your waist he led you up the stairs introducing you to his brothers. The taller man who had been talking was up first.

“Angel,” he smirked, shaking your hand firmly, “It’s a pleasure. I’ve heard a lot about you. Maybe we can get a drink some time and you can tell me your side of things?”

“Don’t pay any attention to him. He flirts with anything with a pulse,” Coco said.

“Wow I don’t know if he should be offended, or if I should?” you laughed.

“We could be offended together,” Angel offered with a wink.

Laughing, you rolled your eyes. This guy really was a flirt.

Ignoring Angel and leading you past him Coco introduced you to all the other men as you meticulously memorized their names. They were a good group and you could feel the familia bonds between the club. It made you happy to know Johnny had found such great people to call home, he deserved that more than anyone you knew.

Family didn’t always mean blood.

“How about we get you a drink,” the older man Taza offered as you were brought further into what you learned was the clubhouse and sat at a table. The atmosphere was cozy and welcoming, Mayans decorations littered throughout. You liked this place.

You chatted effortlessly with Johnny and told him how you were hoping to make Santo Padre your home as well before recalling war stories and tales as all the men listened intently to your recollections.

“I wish I could have been there,” you said, referring to the time when Coco shot the cigar out of an officer’s mouth, “That guy was a right prick, I can just imagine his face! Fuck I was so jealous when I heard that story.”

Coco laughed as he shrugged it off, “It was nothin’”

“Really? I think it was more than that,” you challenged, a mischievous glint in your eye.

“Yeah? And what’s that?” He asked, leaning on the table towards you awaiting your response.

“I think you just couldn’t stand to be there without me.”

“Well it definitely wasn’t as fun without you. I lost my partner in crime that day,” he said referring to the day of the incident, “my best friend.”

“Hey! I thought I was your best friend!” Angel called out from the bar, interrupting your moment as he feigned hurt.

“The choice between your dumb ass and her? I’d pick her too,” EZ joked, dodging the coaster that Angle flung his way.

The two brothers bickered a bit as a beautiful young girl came through the front door swinging her back pack onto the nearest chair, “Fuck it’s been a long day.” She groaned walking up and behind Coco, “Who’s this?” She asked looking at you.

“Leticia this is my old friend (Y/N),” Coco introduced, “Letty’s my daughter.” He informed you proudly.

You smiled to yourself, laughing internally. All those years ago he was teasing Jefferson about having daughters and here he was with one himself, “I didn’t know you had a daughter. It’s nice to meet you,” you said smiling at Letty.

“Nice to meet you too,” She smiled before giving Coco a kiss on the cheek and heading back into the kitchen for a snack.

“It’s still kind of new,” he explained, “I’ll tell ya later, it’s kind of a long story.”

You nodded understandingly. There was so much to catch up on, so much had changed whether it felt like it or not.

“At the risk of sounding like an asshole,” Angel spoke up again as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

“That ship’s sailed a long time ago, hermano.” Creeper interrupted before taking a swig of his beer.

Angel shot him a glare before turning his attention back to you, “As I was saying. Can we see the leg?” He knew how you lost your leg, that being one of the stories Coco had shared although not in great detail and was a little curious.

You shrugged and stood up, “Sure,” you really didn’t mind anymore and were proud of serving your country, it was all just a part of your story.

You pulled up the leg of your jeans showing off the metal prosthetic and exposing your tattoos you had just above it.

“Nice ink,” Gilly commented as the men looked over your colorful display. On the front of your leg you had a special tattoo in honor of Jefferson. His wife eventually reached out to you and you ended getting along with her well and became close with her and their children. With her approval you had his dog tags tattooed and then a flower for her and her daughters each surrounding it. They all picked out the kind and color and the young girls loved getting to be a part of it.

You did your best to do right by them and make sure they were taken care of. You sent them birthday cards and money and were hoping to someday have enough saved up to take them to an amusement park and go all out just as he had planned to do.

“You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” Coco exclaimed as he stood up from his seat and walked over to you starring at your ink, but it wasn’t Jefferson’s he was looking at but that of his and yours catch phrase which you had inked on the back of your leg behind your knee in black ‘I’ve Got Your Six’. “No way,” he whispered in disbelief.

“What?” You asked as you looked at him confused, you didn’t know what the big deal with having a tattoo dedicated to him would be.

Stepping in front of you he took off his cut grinning before turning his back to you and lifting up his shirt showing off his very own ‘I’ve Got Your Six’ tattoo inked in black on his back.

You stepped over running your hand across the words grinning yourself now, “Wow we got fucking matching tattoos without even knowing it,” you chuckled.

Letty watched you and Coco from the kitchen. She didn’t know the whole story but could tell there was something between the two of you and she couldn’t help but ship the two of you together. You were a perfect match for Coco and if she had to help things along the way then that’s exactly what she was going to do.

“So where are you staying,” She asked as she walked into the room, “Cause you should stay with us. There’s plenty of room.”

“Oh no. I don’t want to be intruding on anyone’s life,” you tried to protest holding your hands up, “I was just gonna get a motel room or something, until I found a place.”

“Nonsense,” she insisted, “You can’t stay in some shitty motel room. Right Coco?” She looked to him for support.

He had thought about offering himself but wanted to be respectful of Letty’s privacy and space. Since she was the one who offered though he figured she must have been cool with you and thought why not. It wouldn’t be the first time you stayed together, “Yeah. We got plenty of room.”

“Okay,” you agreed, smiling at him and Letty.

“Well with that settled I’m gonna head home and get stuff ready. I’ll see you there!” She kissed Coco’s cheek once more goodbye before heading out the door.

—————————————————————————————————————

You chatted and hung out around the clubhouse for a few more hours before deciding to call it a night and following Coco back to his place.

Opening the door he led you into his home where Letty greeted you with the biggest smile, “This way,” she said, leading you down the hall, “You can stay in Coco’s room for now.”

“No that won’t be necessary. The couch is quite fine with me,” you tried to protest for the second time that night.

“Just take the damn bed,” Coco said from behind you, “I’ve slept on far worse than our couch.”

“Go ahead and get settled and I will order some food,” Letty said before dipping out of the room and back down the hall.

Plopping your bag on the bed you sat on the edge giving it a couple bounce checks, “So is this the best bed money can buy?” You asked.

“Best bed my money can,” Coco chuckled before sitting down next to you, “So you gonna tell me what’s going on?” He asked. Turning serious he placed his hand reassuringly on your thigh as he looked at you, “I know it’s been years but I know you better than I know my damn self. I can tell something’s up.”

“It’s nothing,” you said as you looked at your hands folded in your lap.

Lifting your chin up he raised your face to look at him, brushing the stray tear that betrayed you off your cheek, “Remember we said no secrets? We tell each other the truth even when it’s difficult.”

You nodded, “I just feel so stupid, I mean I’m a fucking marine.” You glanced down before looking back up to meet his eyes once more, the deep brown feeling so comforting and familiar, “I left my ex,” you started, “And I don’t think he will try to find me but I’m not sure.”

“What happened?” His jaw clenched but he kept his voice even as he took your hand in his.

“It all seemed so perfect, he helped me through all my trauma and shit, when I was at my worst. I guess I felt like I kind of owed him but then things turned bad, he got violent.” You explained, “I had to leave, to get out of there before he killed me or I him.”

“You’re safe here, querida.” He reassured you by pulling your head to his chest and holding you close, “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. I’ve got your six, always have and always will.”

Running his other hand down your back he added, “And if that fucker ever shows his face around here I’ll kill him, or at the very least help you dispose of the body.”

“Thank you Cruz,” you said, pulling away and looking back at him.

He kissed your forehead before standing up, “Anytime,” he smiled, handing you his hand and helping you to your feet, “How about we go see if the food’s here.”

Leading you down the hall and to the living room you smiled at Letty as she sat on the couch. Sitting on the opposite side Coco followed and sat between you two wrapping his arms around the both of you, his two favorite girls in the world.

“So what are we watching?” He asked as you and Letty both started a passionate discussion about the show that was on the tv, laughing and sharing your theories with each other.

He smiled to himself listening in even though he had no clue what the fuck you were talking about, he was just happy that the two of you were getting along and happy to have you back in his life once more.

Everything Taglist: @jad3djay @fairygardenss @carlaangel86 @briannab1234

[radioheadyaoi]

sometimes, i feel yellow

jjpope fanfiction. angst/fluff. second/first pov. pope centric, jj backstory. taglist: @dreamypope @pope-obx @drspock @playitaagain @bipopeheyward @ronnieweasley @pluto-the-planet1 @shipperssafehaven @jjbaymank (let me know if you want to be added!)

You are on a swing. The world is pushing against you. You are becoming one with the sky, your bones falling to the ground.

This is what what dying feels like. It feels good for a moment, all high and light, then, you swing back down and hit rocks. Everything shatters. Your feet crumple first, the your legs and suddenly your body folds into nothing.

You get back on the swing. You know nothing but infinity. It starts again.

For a moment, you can smell your mother's cooking and you forget you don't have a mother.

There is a hole in your body bandaids cannot fix. You are only a boy, so empty, so drained and filled with nothing. Everything echos inside you and you can't figure how you got so hollow.

Calloused hands, sleep deprived eyes, aching stomachs. This is not living.

It always feels like its about to rain but it never does.

Your lips are chewed raw and there is blood under your nails.

Sometimes you feel a little whole but mostly, it feels broken.

Snapped twigs abandoned on sandy shorelines and gravel paths with entrances marked with war aged trees.

A camera is smashed into the pavement, no more memories.

Everything is licked by fire. The flames don't go out.

You are on a swing. The world is forcing you into the blank sky. Your skin melts and your skeleton is left out to dry.

Everyone has a silhouette. Not you. You leave no mark. You are nothing, as they say.

You can see your childhood home in the distance, behind the garden, close enough to touch but leaning away from you. It does not want you no matter how much you want it.

Your fingers are sticky and for a moment you can't figure out why until you remember you are scratching your skin until your body is covered in blood. Small wounds let out waterfalls.

You can't get off the swing. Your teeth hurt from gum you don't remember chewing. Your mouth tastes like dry clementines and medicine and ash.

The swings stretch for miles but there is only you. (You are utterly alone.) For a second, you wonder whether you can move to another swing. (You stay put, don't bother trying. Maybe next time, when the sky is lighter.)

The air smells like round pasta and tear drenched line paper. Smiles across the skies and mountains that groan in the mornings.

You tumble off the swing, into the wet dirt. You get back up. You start again.

All you know is infinity.

---

JJ smiles when it’s just us.  All happy, too sweet to ignore.  

I feel so slow.  Everything feels so slow.  Neil is trying.  He is smiling, talking more than he always does, making sure I’m not hungry, not cold.

No, I’m okay.  I’m fine. It’s alright.  Don’t worry about me.

He is trying too hard.  He is doing what he thinks I want.  I don’t want that. I want him.

He doesn’t understand.  I want to love all of him.  All the pieces he loves, all the pieces he hates so much he locks them away.  Those pieces deserve love too.

Sometimes I feel yellow.

I am standing in the kitchen, hands on the counter, staring out the window at the sky.

Thick soupy yellows and watery ones that spread far across every little thing.  Corns and suns and sand at the bottom of the ocean. Nail polish and wide skirt dresses and pens and cereal your mother buys.

The oven is beeping.  JJ shuts it off.

He comes in and stands behind me, wraps his arms around my waist, puts his head on my shoulder.  I can feel every breath he breathes out, every sigh. He fits perfectly into me.

I don’t know why I feel this way, nobody else does.  JJ doesn’t ask why.

He is making me see stars.

Him.  Him. Him.

I wanted him to be angry at me for feeling like this. His calm was angry. I wanted JJ to shout, hate me a little in his soul. This was JJ. Only angry sometimes, never at me.

He kissed the palms of my hands and held them tight.

"Its okay," he says. "To be upset."

I hate this feeling that's inside me. I hate his calm.

My body slumps and I fall into JJ. My cheeks are all hot. The room is too hot. He doesn't try and kiss me but I wish he would. He tells me to breath instead.

One two three. One in one out. Again again again.

JJ cares. Its strange to think how someone like JJ, drowned in loss and broken things, can try again just to love me. Hold me tighter tighter tighter, trying. (That's the wonder of it, isn't it? He tries.)

He is fixing my broken pieces.

---

There are three freckles on his hip bone. Three small boats in an ocean of skin. I kiss them all.

He traces over the crescent scar on my back. JJ is all fuzzy around the edges, cheeks flushed from the wine we shared. He gets like this, all soft and lazy, tired, eyes barely open, mouth slightly closed. I kiss all the giggles off his mouth.

"Where did you get this," he asks.

"My grandfather's stupid fucking dog," I say. He laughs.

Love is not all knowing. It tries to be. It is all naked, trying to understand all the mysteries under skin and veins.

There's a scar on his wrist. I don't want to know where it's from

(Before, when I couldn't sleep, I would stare up at the ceiling, out the window, go downstairs and listen to the kitchen shake. Now, I can turn into JJ and let him hold me. Love has made me soft.)

I cannot sleep.

"What's this," I ask JJ, pointing to the almost round scar on his cheek. Its impossibly small but I'm surprised I never noticed it. There's one by his ear too, that I didn't see before this.

JJ smells like sunken ships devoured by waves and clean bed sheets. (This is my favorite smell.) There's dirt under his nails. There's a lake in his eyes.

JJ smiles all sad, like rain, shrugs the best he can. That's all I get.

Everything feels like a secret.

"Can I show you something?" JJ asks. I nod. I wasn't sleeping anyways.

He pulls me out of bed. He's wearing my sweater.

---

Everything is covered in goosebumps.

In the clearing of trees behind the house, there is three gravestones, one brand new, the others crumbling with time. The crack in the forest opens up to new winds. I shiver. This feels like an unhealed wound, glowing red, on cold skin.

There's a tombstone for someone named Molly. Aged eleven.

JJ says nothing. I turn to the other grave. The leaves crack under my shoes.

"My father died after Molly did. He had been dying a long time but she finished him off." No sadness in his voice. I can taste the spice from dinner on my lips and wonder, only for a second, if JJ can too.

"My mother died just after I met you." I can't figure out why he's telling me this, especially now, when I am trying to find sleep. The urge to vomit bubbles in my throat, I fight it back down into my stomach. He grabs my hand and I grib it tight. I wish I had a coat.

We stand there. I turn, kiss him. I can taste the wind in his mouth.

---

I dream. I do not want to.

Are you drowning in the ocean or in his eyes?

There's a cake on the table, perfectly decorated. I sit down, take a bite. The icing cracks and the floor breaks.

I need to grab something. There is nothing. Something creaks, I don't know what. The sky is black, the dirt is orange. I vomit. Flowers sprout.

There is no JJ, only the jacket he likes. I put it on. I am warm. The ground steadies, just a little. My head stops spinning.

Running. I am running from something.

I stop. There is nothing behind me.

A girl is sitting by the pool. Long hair the color of the stars, her dress dipping into the ground. She smells like cherry ice pops and watermelon juice. She smiles. Her voice sounds like thunder.

"Are you drowning in the ocean or in his eyes?"

I can see the freckles in his hip, the three little boats.

In his eyes, I think.

---

I wake up.

I remember, when I first moved in, I did not love him because I did not know him.  I loved what he did for me, the risk he took by letting me in, letting me stay.  We fell into routine. He made dinner on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays. I made dinner Monday, Wednesday and Friday.  We went out on Saturday and ordered in whenever we felt lazy. I did laundry at the end of the week and he did his smack dab in the middle.  His clothing mixed into mine and we did it all in one load. He let me pick whichever room I wanted and stay up as late as I wanted and drive the car, all I had to do was ask. 

Everything finally felt good.  

We mixed well together.

I remember when he took me out, finally, after waiting for so long.

Halfway through dinner, JJ had spoken up.

“Would you like to go on a date?”

There’s a bruise on his cheek, a brown flower, that wasn’t there last night.  

Dinner is soup.  My turn. I didn’t go out to get another and there wasn’t much in the kitchen.  We needed to go grocery shopping.  

“With you?”  He nodded. I stuttered.  “Sure, where?”

JJ had shrugged  “I can figure something out,” he said   “Unless you have an idea.” I shook my head.  I’ve only been on one or two dates. I don’t know what people like to do.  

I didn't say anything else.  He said: “Are you free tonight?”  I can only nod. This whole interaction is so odd.  It’s not the kind of thing I would ever expect from JJ, or anyone else.

I lied.  I’ve never been on any dates.

JJ smiled at me then, a real one.  A rare occurrence, but always a welcome one.  

I don’t want to spend the rest of dinner in silence so I say:  “We need groceries.” JJ nodded.

“Anything specific?”  He asked.

“Well, I had a few ideas for my days, and then whatever you want.”

Jesus Christ.  So domestic, like a married couple that still loves each other.  “Make sure to get two loaves of bread. We eat them too quickly.”  He smiled. I offered a half lipped smile back, not reaching my eyes, though I pray he doesn’t notice.  

He goes off, talking about a book, something that happened, I can’t tell.  He laughs and I join in, only half alert of the story he’s telling. He throws up his arms to gesture to something and I nod.  He feels so alive.

I had never wanted to be loved by anyone more.

We're disasters, him and I.

---

I go back to sleep. I dream. There is a corn maze.

---

I walk to the maze, take a deep breath and step inside.

Every outside sound disappears.  I can only hear the plants moving in the wind and the sound of my own breath.  The wind feels a little colder and something clicks in my head. It’s an ocean of calm, the fields grown high enough to frame the sky.  It’s just you and heaven. Alone.

(I don’t like alone.  But I like this.)

This is not fall.  This is winter in an orange coat.  Autumn is thick with family. Winter takes the long path home, all alone.  Everything smells like dirt.

Everything everything everything.  This is the only word I know.

Go home, the wind is saying.  What is home. Is it JJ or is it with Mom?  Is it the town? Does it not exist?

I go home.  Wherever that is.

---

It's morning. All I can think of is Molly. Why he never mentioned it, and why then.

JJ smiles. He is made of secrets.

He is homes and I am drowning in his eyes.

[jokerownsmysoul]

the brightest sun in the golden hour

Summary: the city is rarely invaded by such a blinding sun but when it happens sprinkle everything with magic, marking the rhythm of your day and mirroring a sun, even brighter, that has always lived right next to you.

Pairings: Arthur x Reader Content: soft, fluff

Warnings: nothing. only pure fluff

Word count: 5174

If you want for a better atmosphere I was listening to this playlist while writing.

A/N: so. I really don’t know why this piece took so long, I’ve been writing it for weeks by now and I’m not even completely proud of this. Also it’s very clear that my ability to make summaries is broken today, I hope this piece isn’t as bad as this summary lmaoo

Tag list: @arthurflecksgirl , @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile​

A/N: english is not my first language so I apologize for any typos, I’m still learning.

The scorching sun warming your day had surprised all the citizens of Gotham. Gotham was famous for many things, and among them was certainly not the sun. It was the dark nights, those alleys that instilled fear and beyond which no one knew what kind of crimes took shapes to be stained with blood; it was the riots, the resignation to live an unhappy life and not be able to change the fate of an entire existence, it was the destruction in a city that sucked up anyone who moved there in search of a dream that very soon would have proved impossible to achieve in a city like this.

This morning you woke up surrounded by freshly laundered white sheets with the welcome of a sun that lit up the room through the shining curtains, like the white light of a lighthouse overlooking a midnight sea. Your face was turned toward a lightened ajar window from where filtered a dazzling light wedged between your eyelashes, blinding your eyes and forcing you to turn to the other side of the bedroom to protect your eyes as much as possible, in the hope that your eyes would find comfort in a more shaded area.

But when you turned to the other side of the bed your face was blinded by an even bigger sun; Arthur. The sun of your life, the sun of your solar system around which your entire existence and all the lives you would have lived revolved, again and again holding him by hand. Yet Arthur always shines with a different light; he’s always been the only light that could never blind your eyes causing you pain and forcing you to close them like the sunlight had just done; his was a rare kind of light that blinded you by bringing to your eyes not pain, but only relief; his light made them thirsty of its beauty and stroked them through its light beams. Arthur was the kind of light that the more you looked at it, the more you wanted to look at it and the more the desire to disappear under its mantle enveloped you entirely.

He was sleeping on the right side with his face toward you, his undressed torso was kept warm by the sheets. On his sleeping face were readable all the stories of his past and his present, converged into his relaxed expression wrinkles that into sleep seemed to have been smoothed and more bearable than when he was awake and his wrinkles rippled out and weigh him down with all the pain that Arthur had gone through and his body could never release. It was as if during sleep his pain was not visible on his face, but only in his mind.

The skin on his face enlightened by the sunlight looked like an amber and crystalline sand of a distant land, one of those surreal fairy-tale lands dotted with diamonds and so magical and unearthly that we wonder if they really exist even while looking at them. On his cheeks the sun immortalized every pore and wrinkle his skin was made of, stretched in a serene expression and amalgamated with the rest of his skin without creating more steep frustrated layers of wrinkles.

His never ending eyelashes were floating subtly as his eyelids were moving in his sleep, casting little strands of shadow upon the bags under his eyes; the sun by catching his eyelashes made them bead of white and red translucent spots that its light poured on their dark-midnight length as liquid colors that like water in a crystal glass took the shape of what containing them.

His chestnut hair was intertwined with crimson and golden reflections that stood out on his chestnut locks as if they were threads of sunshine that an otherworldly celestial spirit had sewn on his soft curls, which scattered here and there and on his pillow like the mantle of a werewolf who wants to be set free were falling on his forehead in invisible caresses.

The corner of his mouth was vaguely curled in a vague smile and the natural folds formed on his lips, deepened by the interplay of light and shadow created by the sun on his face, looked even more delicious and seemed to call you by name, inviting you to enter the charming slot formed by his slightly parted lips.

You stared at him, breathing in all his incomparable beauty brighter than any sunlight that could ever blind your face this morning. You felt the sunshine Arthur was made of absorbing your entire existence and make it shine bright, filling you as if you were a vessel and its light a liquid that filled every part of your wholeness and gushed out of it, letting your body swim into its existence as aqueous as water. You kept watching its existence inhabiting the world until your self-control shattered like glass and you could no longer resist his mouth on which shadow and light were embracing each other, making this game of color reflect on the tip of his tongue, slightly visible from his parted lips like a appetizing call.

You brought your face toward him, just a few inches since your faces were already close, but enough to quietly lay your lips on his own; you savored the taste of his sleep on his lips without even moving yours, you only wanted to enjoy the heat of his lips mixed with the one of the sunlight that had warmed them further, drinking him in. Soon after did his lips began to move instinctively awakened by yours and Arthur began to deepen the kiss without ever opening his eyes, still closed in his sleep from the night before.

The sunlight had entered between your lips in a large lumpy bubble which through a lens flare gushed out of your profiles that were delighting each other kissed by the sun. Arthur was - is - so bright that even the sun itself wanted to kneel before him with reverence, wishing to be kissed by him and share his own light and to rise at the right middle of your kiss glittered by the beauty of you both.

The sun was rising between your mouths and his lips during this kiss while the golden hour was envying you for being so close to the sun and being able to even kiss it without burning down as a mortal human being would.

In your mouths the last traces of your sleep were dissipating as you deepened the kiss and your tongues were listening and telling each other the dreams you had had during the night; a secret that no one else could have hear but the sun which was framing you beyond the window and yet it was totally forgotten by another sun more marvellous, more imposing, all encompassing and brighter; Arthur.

Waking up between the sun and a kiss had never been so fulfilling as this morning. Arthur had got up from the bed excited to see the room full of sunshine and had immediately turned toward the bedroom window to open it further, letting a wave of sun to expand within the bedroom walls and coloring it with a ripe apricot color.

He had looked out the window and had laid each hand on each of its side; his arms wide open welcomed this golden hour being born before your eyes on a day when, for once, the love that was inside your apartment matched flawlessly even outside.

The courtains slid in the air moved by a light breeze, which allowed them to create white fabric pirouettes around Arthur’s silhouette by touching his hips mildly and tickling his skin through a confusing trajectory.

You were lying on your bed watching the love of your life observing the world thinking that it must be thankful and flattered to contain a wonderful creature like Arthur since he deserved nothing less than to live in a place as ethereal as his existence.

And in fact, the curtains moving casually around him in fabric waves seemed to realize the dream of the wind to caress his form; they looked like one of those huge palm leaf fans used by Egyptians to wave fresh air over their kings in their homes, and you would have sworn that at this moment the world was waving its breeze reverently over Arthur with the same amount of worship, looking at him like a sovereign covered by the kind of beauty more natural and genuine of all kinds: the unfeigned and candid morning beauty following a long sleep.

He kept his eyes closed letting the heat of the sunlight kiss his skin like you had just done before wondering when it would happen again to wake up under such a infrequent sun. The golden hour exalted the beauty on his body which, lit up by the sun, had taken on iridescent shades alternated with black lines right where the shadows of his muscles and his protruding bones were formed, drawing shady veins on his skin.

The sun was projecting a ray of light on the room through which you could see the dust in the atmosphere floating around the figure of Arthur, caressing his body imperceptibly and cradling it in what people would call dust particles but that for you were instead life particles, which were flattering Arthur and his transcendental beauty through every element that nature held in its invisible hands.

Everything in your room, in fact, at that very moment was staring at Arthur as the only sun actually existing in the universe despite a real, bodily and physical sun was right in front of him. It cleared up in your mind revealed by the morning, when Arthur turned to you shortly after smiling with a glimmer of sun in his eyes, the realization that your eyes could never look at another sun that could blind you without bringing pain to your eyes, but relief, other than the sun that was Arthur.

You smiled at Arthur with the same intensity looking forward to the day ahead and to the prospect of enjoying a sun you’ve always longed to see in a city as gloomy as Gotham.

***

It's been hours now since you woke up but the sun was still warming the apartment with its light spread from the wide open windows, letting in the apartment the invisible smell of the sun and the air of Gotham which took you by surprise.

You were making the bed as you wondered how a filthy city full of smog and garbage like Gotham could actually smell like trees, sun and peace. Probably, you thought as you grabbed the sheet to place it over the bed, the smell coming from the window was not Gotham’s smell but the one of a very far away place, a dreamy and unrealistic place that had originated from your love, the same place from which your souls had originated and that belonged to the same corner of a street in a city buried in the mystery of a planet never known, except by your love which like a sentient spirit already knew the place it belonged to.

A slice of magnificent heaven mirrored the small world formed within the walls of your apartment and had taken the ephemeral consistency of the earthly sun that on this day seemed to shine only to simulate a sun, more powerful and worldwide, that had always been in the center of your apartment. It felt like in your apartment there was a specific solar system composed only of the two of you and a loving sun which, by the union of your bodies and souls, came out of your lives and condensed itself into the center of your home like a star that shone only for you.

When you raised the sheet energetically to lie it over the mattress it soared in the air like a wild eagle which finally had took flight after being caged for too long. You saw it rising in an enchanted pearl color mantle on which the sun made reflect its light that struck your eyes before meandering carelessly into the room for a few seconds, smearing itself in the thin air and sprinkling it like a flood river that takes the form of an embroidered weft carrying both of your scent. You watched the sheet fall on the mattress in white fabric waves that traveled along the walls of your bedroom with such a grace that reminded you of the peculiar grace Arthur always brought within him. Their uncoordinated silk dance was so bewitching that its magnetic dance revealed itself before your eyes like a slow motion movie.

You had witnessed the most domestic form of poetry when the sheet, rubbing and waving in the air moved by your arms, moved an army of dust that had spread along its entire trajectory and around the bed as had happened that same morning when the curtains moved by the morning breeze had pushed the dust along the bare forms of Arthur.

You always adored to make your bed for this very reason; because it was in the secret intimacy of these small moments where it was hidden the homely poetry of nature sneaking into the walls of an apartment inhabited only by love. You always adored it because repeated and familiar gestures such as making the bed were the embodiment of the bound you had with Arthur and they gave you the same safety that he gave you every day; they had the taste of the daily life you experienced with Arthur, of the certainty of your love that would never end because, from the beginning, you both had understood that you had always belonged to each other. In the intimate silence produced when one of you was making the bed there was the kind of magic that enters people’s lives by hiding itself on the surface among the furniture of the house, making itself identifiable but remaining secluded between their cracks so that only those who really love can notice it. And you, of course, noticed it.

Nature had crept into those walls through a sun hotter than ever, through the atmospheric dust that wanted to caress both your shapes and furniture and through the smell of clean holed up between the blankets. While you held in your hands a sheet that still bore the memory of all the times when, held in each other’s arms, you had loved one another by letting yourselves be stuffed in the embroidery of its fabric, you could hear from the open window the sound of Gotham playing like a radio left on in the background; birds chirping in the distance hidden by trees that occupied your view but you could imagine them like a daydream crouching on thin branches while watching you as shy spectators laying the sheet on the mattress, removing the folds created carelessly on it and placing the blankets along the sides of the bed in neat and automatic gestures you knew by heart.

The freshly laundered pearl color sheets had left in the air the smell of fabric softener and detergent, a scent smelled like home and you, which brought to your mind every moment spent together with the love of your life.

You wondered how the smell of a fabric softener bought in any store by millions of people could hide within itself a fragrance that, in every home and in different people's hands turns into a different scent, acquiring a memory that carries a distinctive fragrance as if it were the imprint of the family using it. It felt like it was the identity card of a house and, through its smell, you could even learn about those people inhabiting Gotham and their home.

Your scent was the one of your lives mixed together in a single fragrance, so pleasantly yet pungent, sweet yet strong that was totally enveloping you and filling your nostrils and, although Arthur was in the other room doing other chores, through the smell of your love that was not only hidden among the embroidery of the fabric but remained palpable behind everything that apartment was made of, surprisingly did you found out that actually you missed him as if you had not seen him for a lifetime and your body, missing its other half, was glimpsing it in every inch of the room, in every particle of your intrinsic smell, on your pillows neatly resting on the mattress and on the blankets now positioned on the bed flawlessly, on which you could see his features as if you had just embroidered his face on it with a wool of Arthur's colors.

You were lining up the pillows by laying them perfectly parallel to each other, just as your lives which meant to follow each other throughout your life had walked side by side until you met, when all of a sudden did you felt Arthur’s arms encircling your waist and his body pressing on your back bent toward the bed to wrap you from behind in a hug. A soft chuckle of amazement came out of your mouth by feeling his body unexpectedly on you and catching you by surprise just when you needed him the most, before his lips began to kiss your cheek and every point of your neck they could reach with the heat of who had missed you and couldn’t contain the adrenaline he had in his body to feel his skin in contact with yours.

You didn’t need words to understand that you had missed each other; you understood it by the heat with which he was peppering you with kisses, and he understood it from your arms that moving away from the pillows, now perfectly aligned and in order, they had rested instinctively on his arms still surrounding your waist as if your bodies were driven by a magnet that always brought you back to each other.

“Arthur!" Was what came out in a playful laugh from your lips when Arthur, pressing his body toward yours further as he kissed you more urgently and his starving lips sought your skin, he began to keep you both off balance by swinging your bodies that wrapped in this turbulent embrace were following by now a confused dance in which the only right steps were the loud pops of his kisses. “What you are doing?” You mumbled while with his arms he kept you from leaving. You were only amused by this exhibition of passionate love.

Your embrace soon turned into a vivacious challenge in which you couldn’t tell whether it would overcome the gravity force or the playful attitude with which Arthur was laying love on you throught all the energy he could. "I missed you." He whispered on your cheek, his voice was heated and hoarse with desire, his lips as warm as his breath brushed against your cheek in a smile while he spoke holding them over you so as not to deprive himself of your contact even for a second, before continuing to throw his body and lips on your skin feverishly, kissing you with fury and giving relief to the pleasant thirst he had for you, his lips numb with love carried the after-taste of your skin.

He gracefully turned you on yourself by slipping your waist into his arms so he could look you in the eyes. Your chests touched each other now while Arthur held you in a firm but gentle grip as he continued to sow kisses everywhere on you. On your face, on your neck, right on the soft spot behind your ears and on your collarbone with the same heat and energy as before. At every kiss of his you’d laugh and every time Arthur put even more pressure on you your bodies would lose balance, moved by the frenzy of your love that had taken over. The more pressure he put on your body to dive into everything you were and kiss you as inhumanly as possible, the more you moved away from him by teasing him and bending your back backwards. In the bedroom resonated the lovely popping noises of his boisterous kisses and your laughter when he couldn’t reach your skin so every kiss he wanted to give you remained suspended in the air. Your laughters were the only thing passing between your neighboring bodies that like an echo in the mountains were spreading throughout the apartment. Your embrace had become a confused, messy, indefinite grip as you tried to hold your feet steady on the ground and sustain the attack of kisses and cuddles that had driven Arthur to sneak into the bedroom, assaulting you with all the reverence and love his body could hold, and much more.

Until this challenge was overcome by the force of gravity and as Arthur approached you further for yet another kiss did you clumsily fell on your bed one over the other.

It had won the feverish hurricane that had enveloped both of you when a loud laugh came out of your mouths as soon as your bodies touched the mattress. You looked each other in the eye with complicity for a second before bursting out laughing with a spark of childlike innocence in your eyes, realizing that falling was inevitable, but also premeditated. Arthur’s body was laying completely on yours, his muscles were smeared on your own warming you with his heat and his weight pressed on you in a pleasant physical sensation made you more eager of him and revealed how much you wanted to feel his weight on you all your life. "We fell." You said pointing out the obvious, your laughter was smoothed in a childish giggle.

His eyes were staring at you intensely and full of adoration as if looking down at you while the sun was making your face shine brighter you looked different. Your face at that moment was to him like a landscape that changes its beauty depending on the seasons and Arthur, looking at you under the dazzling and rare sun of Gotham, wanted to remember this new beauty of yours forever. "Yeah… we fell." A grin was drew on Arthur’s lips erasing his previous laugh as the thought of what it meant crept into his mind. "You can’t elude me anymore." The swollen vein in the middle of his forehead, illuminated by the sun, looked like a streak of light beaded of sweat droplets shining like little emeralds on the hairline, his dimples deepened over you as his grin grew further and Arthur traveled your arms with his hands in smooth movements.

Once his hands reached your wrists he grabbed them delicately and dragged your arms over your head, continuing to grab your wrists steady in his hands. You couldn’t rebel from his grip and you actually didn’t mind being unable to move under him either, because a second later Arthur was peppering kisses and raspberries all over your body, making you laugh and preventing you from talking. Your body struggled underneath him with sweet tickles and soft lips, the popping noises of raspberries alternated with the smack ones of his open mouthed kisses and the sheets were unraveling through your bodies chasing each other and through your attempts to grab his lips with yours in the hope that he kissed them; it looked like Arthur wanted to kiss every part of your body except this one, increasing your cravings.

When you managed to dampen your laughter and speak the veil of a giggle was still pressed on your words. "I just made the bed!" You screamed, the bed completely wrecked had the memory of your bodies racing together in a carefree race between prey and victim; the more you tried to free yourself from his grip to kiss him and the more he didn’t want to let you go and not to kiss you, yet. Arthur chuckled, bringing his lips close to yours so that they could rub one another, but not enough to give you the relief of a kiss you were desperately begging for.

His heated breath smelling like him enveloped you and his lips slightly tickled your lips, his languorous eyes stared at you. "I'll make it up later, I just want to kiss you now." He said in an unconcerned but at the same time thoughtful tone of voice. It looked like it was impossible for Arthur to stop laughing even for a second once he'd enjoy his lost innocence. He’s so neat and yet, in front of you, everything pales into insignificance and he was more than happy to see on these sheets the marks of what he was doing to you.

He kissed the corner of your mouth with a sly and cheerful smile still on his lips, your body was melting underneath him because of these ghostly, unsatisfying touches that made you even more needy. "Besides," he continued, another kiss on the corner of your mouth, "last night you didn’t mind to unmade the bed."

You swallowed while the memory of the feeling of his naked weight pressing on your body made room in your mind, so alike to the feeling of his now dressed weight that, instead, was now pressing on your body. "You’re unfair!" You kept screaming in a laugh matching his, pretending to be annoyed; actually never as in that moment his barefaced attitude was making you fall on your knees even though you were literally lying on your bed. "I know." A proud smirk pierced his lips before continuing to sprinkle kisses and raspberries on any part of your body unveiling before his eyes. By now your body was giving itself completely to his attentions and you had stopped tinkering with your arms to escape from his grip in the attempt to finally kiss him on his lips.

A cloud moved into the sky giving the sun the chance to shine even more, spraying a ray of sunshine that from the window lit up the bedroom even further and further, just when Arthur formed a streak of kisses from your chest up to the corner of your mouth and, after having locked his eyes of a blinding green on yours, sealed the bright light entering from the window upon your lips by finally kissing you while the sun, more dazzling than ever, it was shining between both of your lips and gushing out of them looking like a lens flare just as it had happened that morning.

Your apartment was so bright it felt like it was swimming into the core of the sun, dragging you both with it. Your bodies had resumed playing with each other innocently in a incandescent yellow sea which was framing your silhouette, made even hotter than this unnatural sun enveloping the entire city as you rolled on the bed childlike not taking your hands off each other for even a second.

Your apartment had always been a second indistinct world, totally dissociated from the real world in which you lived, and every day was lit up by the sun of your love from within. Even on the more icy night, the coldest winter and the darkest, gloomy day, your apartment always contained a boiling sun that warmed up every piece of furniture on which your fingerprints were visible.

And truthfully you were both embroidered in that apartment for real. Your love filled everything like a material impossible to remove, a fabric sewn with the most powerful needle even in the hardest surfaces that in other times, with another needle, would be difficult to pierce with an object as small as this one. And in every area of the floor, in every dusty corner, in every utensil and in every room, you could smell the fragrance of two souls living in the happiest period of their lives because they finally found themselves after years spent looking for each other.

The separate world you lived in your apartment was a sun-drenched paradise, it was in this earthly paradise that two lovers were playing like two children in the enchanted innocence of two people who, despite being adults, they have never ceased to preserve within their souls the innocence and the ability to be always astonished of life, enjoying their love as if it were the first sip of water of the day: a simple but indispensable thing without which you cannot live.

By loving him, you had allowed Arthur to live the magic of a childhood that had been stolen from him and for that he had never been able to have but of which he had always kept the seed. He knew that one day it would flourish in the hands of his one and only person that, once met, they would have watered by making him understand that he still deserved to be a happy child even in his later years and allowing him to experience a childhood that no one had ever allowed him to live before he was an adult. You brought to the surface the carefree child he never could have been.

By loving you, he had given you the heart of a man who never made you ashamed for having kept the child you had been, he actually had helped you to let this inner child be your strength. He gave you the young love you always dreamed of; a love made of kisses as sweet as candies, of laughter ringing in your lips like comforting lullabies and the spontaneity of a love you knew would never end just like one of those fairy-tale books ready telling never ending stories to be read again and again, night after night, asking to be told to your parents before sleep.

The blankets were totally messy, the unmade bed had erased the perfection with which you had arranged the blankets almost obsessively until a few minutes earlier and the numerous pillows, which Arthur loved to keep tidy and composed on the headboard of the bed, were completely scattered around your figures. From the bedroom window it seemed, in fact, that your bed had never been made and still bore the marks of the previous night.

You smiled at each other with complicity between the mountain of pillows woven between your bodies and the broken sheets. Not because there was a summer sun all over the city that day, although it was a surprise to both of you and you adored it.

No. You both smiled at each other because, for once, finally, the heat of the summer sun spread on the outisde over the whole city corresponded perfectly to the solar heat on the inside that every day had always illuminated your apartment from within. It was your heavenly Eden springing into a dark and hellish city like Gotham, which seldom was illuminated by a sun as bright as the one of your loving souls.