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hoshigray · 7 months

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𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇[𝐞𝐫]!! | t. fushiguro + s. ryōmen

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Next time, look around the area before you say you find a serial killer attractive. Because you’re about to see what mess your words will have you end up in — and your clothes all torn up.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: serial killers! Toji + Sukuna x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! - age gap (the reader is in their early 20s) - porn with plot - oral (f! + m! receiving) - threesome - double penetration; anal (first time) & vaginal - restricted movement (hands tied up) - face-sitting - cowgirl dp positions - gun + knife play - choking - spanking - unprotected sex - overstimulation - degradation (brat, broad, slut, whore) - pet names (baby, dollface, good girl, pet, princess) - blackmail/threats - the reader is in an established relationship w/ Nanami - mentions of blood, tears, spit, and drool.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.6k (told you, porn with plot, lol)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: uhhhh happy Friday the 13th, everybody???? blame @ramonathinks for this idea (jk, don't, she's so amazing, ty for pushing me into this, mona bear ♡ and tysm for beta reading; your thoughts mean the world). Haven't done a fic in two months sooooo go easy on me!! Not proofread, so I'll fix stuff l8rrrr

“No.”

“Oh, come on, Y/n! Just answer the question!”

“You’re so fucking sick, you know that!?” You glare at your friend, who slumps on the booth chair with a heavy sigh.

A slight breeze tickles your skin through your comfortable sweatshirts as the leaves on the trees slowly change to autumnal colors, and Halloween decor is already adorning every house and every yard. It was a warm and sunny afternoon on this pleasant Friday. Usually, you’d be cozied up in your apartment enjoying yourself, probably catching up on some horror flicks you missed last year.

But alas, that was not the case. Because you’re a college student. As October has finally rolled around, only one thing prevents you from enjoying this beautiful season — midterms. The thought of it is enough to pull you into a pool of dread. Every day has been one whirlwind after another. Yet, on the bright side, all you have now is one last exam to worry about, and you’ll finally be able to rest this weekend. So here you are, at the diner with your best friend, Shoko Ieiri, completing your papers while eating off your plates to satiate the stress. For the most part, things were going smoothly.

Until the news anchor on the television at the bar relays an announcement…

“…Once again, everyone, please be on the lookout for these two killers on the loose. Three weeks ago, the two recently escaped from their cells, killed three guards, and are still at large. There have been accounts around the state that reported recent sightings of either or both criminals, the recent one being in this county 27 hours ago. So, please, stay safe. The killers are identified to be…”

And Shoko, being the curious person she is, asks you a question that stops your fingers from typing on your laptop: “Do you find those killers hot?”

That’s how you two end up where you are now, groaning at the brunette’s persistence in getting your approval to find two criminals — murderers, even! — attractive.

“Hey, Y/n, I know you hear me.” Shoko snaps their fingers at you while you try to get the assignment done. “Just answer the question: don’t you think those guys are hot.”

“We didn’t come all this way for you to talk about your hybristophilia fantasies.” Facing the Word document, you remind your friend why you’re here in the first place. “Just get back to writing; I wanna finish this and get home.” There’s nothing said afterward for a few seconds, thinking she has finally given up.

However, “First of all,” your eyes close to conceal them rolling behind the lids. “I’m not into hybristophilia; I just know a hot guy when I see one. Second, look at their mugshots. Like, damn, you’ve ever seen anyone so intimidatingly good-looking before? Come on, have a look!”

“You’re such a weirdo,” the click-clacking of your fingertips tapping your keyboard fills the rest of your answer.

Still, she persists. “Y/n, look at the phoooone~”

No words, only tapping keys.

“Y/n?”

The keys become louder.

“Pretty, pretty, pleaseeeee~?”

Louder.

“Y/n!!”

A fist bangs on the booth table as the other closes the laptop shut, sending another glare to the person across from you who holds the phone up. You’ve had it at this point, so you say with a steady breath, “If I look at the dumb mugshots and answer your dumb question, will your dumbass leave me alone and finish your work?” The brunette only puts the phone on the table and slides it your way, giving you big doe eyes and whimpers like a hurt puppy. You sigh with your nostrils as you snatch the phone up, your gaze stationed on the images presented.

The image displayed two mugshots: on the left was a man with raven hair and a scar on the left of his lip. Intense, forest-green orbs contrast the black strands that cover his forehead. The mugshot letter board below him is labeled as "Toji Fushiguro." The one on the right is another man with spiky salmon-colored hair pushed upfront with prominent black tattoos decorating his nose, cheeks, and forehead. The board named him as “Sukuna Ryōmen.”

You look at the pictures intently, examining the men’s features at your discretion. It didn’t occur to you how long you were gawking at the mugshots until you peered from the phone to see Shoko give you the biggest shit-eating grin. Shaking your head, you chew the inside of your cheek before responding.

“….Well,” you cough. “…they’re not terrible looking at all. They are…..hot.”

“Told you!” Shoko slams the table with high enthusiasm, earning another sigh from you as she snatches the phone back. “Would you fuck them?”

You almost popped a vein. What the fuck—“is wrong with you!?”

“It’s just a question, geez.” She holds her hands up defensively. “Or is that too lewd and raunchy to ask the partner of the trusting, charismatic “Golden Boy” SGA president, Kento Nanami?”

You choke on your spit before you can say anything, and your cheeks dial in warmth. “S-Shut up! Don’t bring my love life into whatever deviant horny thoughts you’re thinking!”

“I’m sorry, I’m boreeeeeeed. I don’t wanna do this paper, ugh.” The brunette whines and bangs their forehead on the table surface; your eyes roll for the fifteenth time in the past three hours. “…Maybe I should get some dick after this.”

“For fuck’s sake, I’m going to use the restroom.”

You exit the dining booth when they give you a muffled response of anguish, straightening yourself and heading for the back of the diner. As you walked away, you noticed a pair of hooded figures sitting at the booth behind you. Realization kicks in, and you groan internally. Oh, God, they probably heard what we were talking about! But what caught your mind next was that one of them had a black mark on the bridge of their nose. Huh, what an odd tattoo…

After using the toilet, you wash your hands at the sink, but your mind is still fixated on that weird tattoo. Who would get such a thing on their face? Wouldn’t that hurt? I wonder if that’s the only tatt— And then It clicked, you quickly turn off the faucet and dry your hands, exit the rest restroom, and run to your booth. Shoko was begrudgingly typing away on their laptop until she saw you return in a hurry.

“Hey, you okay?” She asks you, but you aren’t looking at them. Your face contoured to a confused expression as you stared at the booth behind the one you were sitting in, now empty.

“Did…..The two people who sat behind us, did you see them?”

“Hmm? No, I didn’t. Must’ve left while my head was on the table.”

“Uh huh…” you say nothing more as you slowly sit back in front of your laptop. Your mind is now clouded with confusing thoughts, questioning your experience up until now. It could be a coincidence, quite far out at that. Regardless, you could’ve sworn you saw that tattoo on the Sukuna guy that Shoko showed you. It was such an uncommon decor, especially since you just saw it on the face of a criminal. Not to mention, the news anchor earlier stated that those two killers were in this exact county…

Needless to say, you didn’t touch your keyboard for about twenty minutes. Your mind was too wrapped up elsewhere to think clearly about your school assignment, and your body harbored a disturbing chill worse than the soft autumn winds.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“…So, why are you researching about the loose killers again?”

“Hm? Oh,” you stop typing on the laptop to attend to the phone call you’re on. Exiting your bedroom, you walk to the living room. “No reason, I was just curious. I saw something about them on the news at the diner with Shoko.”

The person on the other side of the line hums. “You should be careful about stuff like that.”

“Yeah, I know, Kenty,” you open the sliding door to your balcony and close it behind you before taking a seat on the cream-colored swing chair.

“I’m very serious, Y/n.” It was none other than Kento Nanami who was speaking with you. The trustworthy “Golden Boy” of your class year, the circumspect president of the Student Government Association… your loving and attentive boyfriend.

"I know you are."

"And those guys aren't just any usual criminals. They're notorious killers who barge into people's homes at night to steal valuable things. Maybe even kill their victims in their sleep if they have the time. So, be very careful, okay? Can’t trust these streets at night, especially now with those guys on the run. So, don’t go anywhere alone, always have your pepper spray on you, and be sure everything is locked — doors, windows, everything.”

A deep sigh leaves your lips. “Yeah, I double-checked all the locks once I got inside.”

No one says a word; the rustling of the trees and the beeping of cars from the traffic at the light substitute this awkward silence. Until Nanami says, “….You scared?”

You don’t answer immediately, your mind flashing back to the bewildering encounter at the diner earlier today. Those two hooded men, one with a black tattoo on his face. It felt too surreal to feel like a coincidence, yet it wasn’t too far out of your mind to think as such. The timing was strange, with the news reporter and your conversation with Shoko. The thought of two murderers nonchalantly being in the same space as you rub you off in the worst way imaginable. “…Kinda, yeah. A bit spooked.”

“You want me to come up there and spend the night?”

“No, no! You don’t have to do that,” you hurriedly decline his proposal. “I know you’re busy with homework and student government stuff. I wouldn’t want you moving around so much; I’d feel bad.”

You hear him chuckle on the other side of the phone, and your heart swoons at the sound. “Don’t feel bad; you could never be a burden to me, especially when your safety is my top priority.” Another skip of the beat; it’ll never fail to amaze you how sweet he is with his words.

“Thank you, Kenty. But still, I know you’ve got a lot on your hands. You don’t have to see me right this moment. Besides, isn’t Haibara supposedly dragging you to some party at Geto’s?” Nanami is silent for a few seconds before he groans; a smile creeps up on your face at his reaction.

“Unfortunately, yes. I have to leave to pick him up, and then we can go…But I can cancel and come o—“

“Absolutely not.” You’re quick to interject. “You’ve been so high and on edge with your exams. This is the first party after midterm week. And I can bet my left toe that Gojo — cause you know he’ll be there if Geto is — will be upset you couldn’t make it.”

“…….Which one?”

“Excuse me?”

“You have five toes on your left foot, so which one—“

“Kento.” He chuckles once more for your ears to hear at the use of his real name. “Have fun, okay?”

Nanami hums. “I’ll try. I’ll come by your place Sunday. Sounds good?”

“Perfect. Take some pics for me. Love you!”

Your boyfriend bids you farewell before ending the call, already missing his voice. A yawn creeps out from you, a sign that you are indeed fatigued and need rest. Leaving the balcony, you close the door and do a final check at your door. Confirmed that it’s locked and secured, you turn off the living room lights and head back to your bedroom to get some shut-eye.

You shut off and close your laptop on your desk before turning off the lights. Then, you lift the comforter and finally enter the chilly embrace of your bedsheets. Usually, you’d scroll on your phone for a little bit until you get drowsy enough to fall asleep. Yet — it could be because of the exam you were doing at the diner — you felt way more exhausted than usual and wanted to sleep right away. And you did just that: closed your eyes, listened to the calming rhythm of your breaths, and soon drifted into an anticipated slumber.

….Three Hours Later….

The next time you open your eyes, you’re not in the room you left yourself in — let alone the bed.

Instead, you find yourself somewhere cold and dark. Your bed is nowhere in sight, just a lone chair facing you. There are no windows, no desks, just you and this chair with a sole overhead light that almost blinds you when you slowly get up.

The change of scenery throws you off as one thought after another picks up the pace of confusion. Where am I? What is this place? This has to be a sick dream of mine…Wait a minute. You look down to find your pajamas are shriveled and torn up, pieces of the material scattered all over where you’re lying on the cold floor. Also, what the fuck!? You can’t seem to move your hands and feet, noticing that there’s some rope restricting your limbs from moving freely from one another. No matter how hard you try, squirming does little to no help, yet it confirms that this is not a dream.

What the absolute fuck is going on right now!? It was an appropriate question for this perplexing situation, not knowing where to pick up from to start picking clues as to why you’re here. Better yet, who brought you here?

“Ah, look who’s awake.”

You turn to the sound of a door opening and closing; the direction it came from makes it hard to register the distance of whoever was speaking to you. However, that doesn’t matter because you can hear footsteps approaching you and a figure stepping into the light. And when the face finally comes to your field of vision, your blood shifts into an immediate icy cold.

Standing to you by the chair was a man in a tight black shirt that exhibited his muscular arms and physique way too perfectly, harboring dark and baggy pants. But those weren’t the features that had your breath hitch. No, no. The man before you had raven hair with the length stopped to his ears and strands that covered his brows. They did not even try concealing the striking green eyes that looked straight at you. And the familiar scar at the right of his lip put everything together for you — the mugshot that Shoko showed me, the inmate that escaped prison…!

Toji Fushiguro, in the flesh, takes a seat on the chair with his legs spread while putting on black gloves. He notices your look of realization and smirks; you don’t like how his scar is rooted up with the motion. “Y’re a pretty heavy sleeper, ya know that. But I guess that made bringing you here a lil’ simple.”

A tiny bit of confidence prompts you to speak with the man. “Whe–Where am I?”

“C’mon now, little girl,” your stomach churns when he scoffs at you. He brings up a hand to help him as he cracks his neck. God, why is he so jacked!!? “Y’re supposed to be smart, right? You know that’s the wrong question to ask me.”

Okay then, think, Y/n, think… ”…Why did you kidnap me? Is it for money? Because I don’t have much—“ The palm of Toji’s hand faces you to halt you from speaking more, making your nervousness dwell even further.

“For one, you should really consider locking your balcony door when y’re done using it.” There are not enough words to describe the mental facepalm you gave yourself. “If we wanted to run y’r pockets, we woulda done so earlier.” He casually admits to you. “But that’s not why we brought ya here, so he’ll explain it to ya.”

He? Wait, wait, we??

The other mugshot hits you like a flash before you hear the door open and close again. Of course, Toji isn’t the only one on the run right now. There was another guy with salmon-colored hair and tattoos. The other figure, now wearing a black tank tee and ripped black jeans, came from behind Toji. Your stomach drops to the floor when your eyes land on the prominent black tattoo on his nose — now seeing that he has way more on his face, shoulders, arms, and wrists. The scene from the diner replays until your brain can’t keep up. It was him, no doubt about it.

“Well, well. Did the sleeping beauty finally get their rest?” Sukuna Ryōmen, looks just as [if not more] dangerous as Toji. He stuffs his hand into the back of his jeans pocket. “Listen here, I’ll be asking you some questions, and I expect nothing but honest answers. Got that?”

You don’t know what possessed you to ask the question. You being scared shitless right now should’ve prevented you from doing so. And yet, you ask, “And if I don’t?”

It happened way too fast; your eyes couldn’t even process it happening. But one moment, the salmon-haired criminal was standing in front of you beside Toji. The next, you feel someone crouched behind you with the cold feeling of something barely piercing your skin. Your eyes widen, and you don’t dare move a single hair. Toji shakes his head at you, the smirk on his face still present. Now you can guess who had fun cutting up your PJs.

“I don’t think you wanna know the answer to that question.” He says it so close to your ear that you could’ve nearly fainted. Sukuna then moves the knife to scrape the side of your neck. “And don’t you ever think you’re in a position to ask me questions. Use that college brain of yours, brat.”

You gulp — a risky move when you have a sharp object to your neck — and nod. Satisfied, the pink-haired man removes the knife from your proximity and stands right up. “At least you follow things quickly.” He says while walking back to where he stood prior. “Now, question one: do you know a kid named Kento Nanami?”

The mention of your boyfriend’s name hits you like whiplash. Kento? What do they want with him!?

“…Yes, I do.”

“Good. Next question,” You chew the inside of your lip before he asks you the following. “Where does he live?”

Your body almost shuts down when he says the final word. No. No, no, no! Absolutely not! “I can’t tell you that.”

“Tch, just when you were doin’ so good.” Sukuna sucks his teeth. “And why the hell not?”

“Because I don’t want you hurting him.”

He barks a laugh. “You don’t even know what we’ll do to him! Damn, talk about a loyal dog.”

The insult sparked a flame in you. It was a small one, but a flame nonetheless. “Why the hell do you want to know anyway? It’s not like he knows you any—Hrckk!”

“What the hell did I say about you asking questions, huh.” A hurried hand meets your throat, black nails digging into your skin as his grip gets unbearably tight. You attempt to keep a stern face despite choking for some air, but you’d be lying that the pain wasn’t getting to your head.

“Alright, Kuna, let ‘em go.” You almost forgot about Toji sitting on the chair until he spoke up. With a displeased click of the tongue, Sukuna releases you and throws you to the cold, hard floor. “For your information, princess, that kid does know us.”

You’re coughing up a storm, but you still listen. Your eyes are watery, and your throat pulses. “Hic…Ack, what—What are you talking about?”

Toji continues. “That little friend of y’rs is the reason why we were behind bars for three years. Fuckin’ kid saw us break into a house in his neighborhood and called the cops on us. For the longest time, we’ve thought about getting out of those damn cells and coming back to rip that lil’ fucker limb from limb. Maybe ransack his whole home and then some.”

“And now that we are out here,” Sukuna chimes in. “We plan on doing just that. We were sitting right behind you at the diner and heard the brown-haired chick say his name, meaning he had to be around this county. And when he heard that fucking square had a little girlfriend, who better to introduce ourselves and point us the way than you.”

So much information hits you all at once that you’re not given enough time to process it properly. Nanami called the cops on these guys? Where was that piece of information on the phone call!!? Three years ago, it must’ve happened before the start of freshman year. And then there’s the matter of these murders trying to kill him — the love of your life!

You immediately try to weigh your options: you could give them a fake address, but that would lead them back to you and have you killed instead. And Nanami doesn’t live at home right now; he’s on campus with you and everyone else. So, sharing these two his home address will just have his family killed in his place! Oh, you wouldn’t handle that guilt; you just couldn’t!!

“So, what’ll it be, little girl?” Toji’s voice snaps you from your rampant thoughts. “You can be a cute girlfriend and be loyal, and we’ll just kill you right here, right now. Or, you give us an address, we’ll put you back to sleep, and you’ll never see from us ever again.”

Those two options were far from what you wanted to do. You would never want to jeopardize your poor boyfriend’s life and those around him for being a model citizen, especially for these assholes! There had to be a way, something you could do!

“Please, don’t hurt him!” The ropes on your hands and feet have you shuffle to look at the two men from the dirty ground. “He didn’t do anything wrong. Please just spare him!”

“No-can-do, brat.” Sukuna comes down to your level once more, yanking your shirt — or whatever’s left of it, your bra practically out for the whole world to see — to lift your upper body. “Nothing to ease a vengeful spirit than taking care of the problem, right? So do us a favor, will ya.”

Tears are fighting your control to fall, your body trembling. You’re scared, so so frightened. But most of all, you’ll do what you can to make sure your “golden boy” stands tall for you. “Please, I’ll do anything! Anything you want, I’ll do it! So, please!!”

Sukuna opens his mouth to bite back, but no words come out. Actually, his expression resorts back to a neutral tone. He then turns to Toji, who looks at him with a quirked brow. There’s nothing but silence between the two, a silent conversation between the two killers that you have no choice but to stay quiet for. And you jerk when the two focus back on you. Sukuna then finally says something.

“Anything, huh?” It’s the worst when he sneers at you. Such a devious man.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Tch. Fucking brat.” Sukuna sucks his teeth before he snatches your chin with a rough vigor, forcing your teary eyes to face him. And it doesn’t help that you now have a gun pointed at your temple. “This is your warning. You better do this right, or you’ll be the first to get a gift with your boyfriend’s head all minced up. Now, use that mouth. Properly.”

Never in your wildest dreams did you ever think you’d end up here. You stood on your knees and hands on the concrete floor, your mouth occupied with Sukuna’s cock, propelling your face to and fro to meet the base. Why the handgun to your head? According to the salmon-haired man, he said: “Try to fight, run, or bite our dicks off, then this whole mag is getting emptied.” So, you’re literally giving the fellatio of your life. And judging by the grunts coming from Sukuna, it seems you’re doing a decent job keeping him going.

As for the other one, Toji, his hands grabbing onto your asscheeks from beneath should answer that. “C’mon, baby, sit on my face. I don’t bite…” you can tell he has the biggest grin on his face saying that, has you hesitant to follow orders. Regardless, you gently sway your ass down to sit on his face. But impatience gets the best of him before he pulls you down himself, his nose abruptly hitting your clitoris. You jolt despite his hands keeping you on him, forced to feel his tongue and mouth indulging on your wet folds.

So there you sit, bare and nude, for the men to use you as they see fit. Whatever piece of your clothes were torn off you to be fully exposed for them. This is what you choose to do for the sake of your boyfriend: giving yourself off for the night.

Oh, if Shoko could see you now. Sucking off one of the exact murderers you two were talking about at the diner while the other eats you out? You know you’ll never hear the end of it from her if — by some miracle — she finds out! And you’ll hold onto that miracle for as long as you can.

“…Fuuuck, hnngh! It’s been a minute since I had my dick on something tight,” Sukuna comments while putting his free hand on your head. His thrusts increase to have your tongue bathe the underside of his dick, and he sighs at you choking when the tip suddenly hits your uvula. “Heh, that’s right. Keep those tears coming, pet…You seem to be enjoying yourself there, Fushiguro. This broad taste that fucking good—Ohhh shit, fucking shit…”

You can feel Toji’s lips curve into a smile from down under, he gives your labia and clit a slow and antagonizing lick before responding to his partner in crime. “Mmmm, man. It’s been a while since I had to do this. Crazy how this princess got with a square like that kid. Wonder if he makes ‘em feel good like this.” And then he returns to your clit to give it a harsh suck.

Your body continues to be used like a toy. Your jaw loosens to oblige Sukuna’s girth that’s currently hitting the back of your throat every time your lips meet the pubes of his pelvis. His ruts dial-up, and you ball your fists with the constant oral abuse on your face. Drool runs down your chin with every shove of his length, practically choking you with his dick. And the commotion between your leaking vulva and Toji doesn’t go unnoticed either; motherfuker’s tongue is relentless, making sure every crevice and part of your pussy is familiar with him. And the sounds of him slurping your essence are so lewd, so erotic for your ears that you think they’re bound to explode on you.

“—Ahhh, damn, I’m gonna cum,” Oh, God. Your eyes open to look at Sukuna’s expression, nothing but pure enjoyment looking at your pitiful look. “You’re cute looking all pathetic taking my cock like this, whore—Mmmph!! Shiiiit, keep your head like that.” He grabs your head as his thrusts speed up to an irregular pace, your throat and face becoming numb. Your whimpers are muffled, and tears streak down your cheeks. His groans of pleasure fill the room, and before you know it, his load is released down to the depths of your throat. You’re stuck taking it, mewling on the shaft still in your mouth until he’s finished.

He removes you when he is, his cock slathered in your saliva and still rock hard. You gawk at it, amazed that you could fit it in your mouth. And you hate to admit this, but it has you wondering what Toji’s is like.

Speaking of, with a foggy mind, you peer down to see Toji finally done eating your cunt out. “Ya taste good, you know that.” He licks his lips provocately with a smile. You open your mouth to say something, but he cuts you off. “You ready fr’ me now?” He cocks his chin up, and you turn to see what he’s talking about, only to be met with the pinkish-red tip of his sprung erect cock. If you didn’t think you’d be able to have Sukuna’s in your mouth, you’re going to need a diety’s grace to see what you can do with Toji’s. “Heh, think I’m too big fr’ you? How the hell is Kento handling a piece like you?”

“S–Shut up, stop bringing him up!” You shout at him, tired of being reminded of the love of your life whom you’re betraying right now. All for his sake, but still…

He chuckles at your reaction. “Little girl got spark, huh. Fine then, be a doll and put it in yourself.”

Cold sweat slides from your brow. Me? I’ve gotta put that shit in on my own!? But you have to. You know you do. So, with anxiousness pooling in your stomach, you bring your ass up and use your hand to align his cock to your wet cunt.

It takes a lot of mental motivation for you to continue, but slowly and surely, you push the folds of your cunt onto his glans. The pain you experience makes it excruciating to bear, but with steady breaths, you push the tip in with every exhale. And when it finally enters your vulva, a gasp erupts from your puffy lips and a hiss from the man with the scarred lip. “Mmmm, slow down, baby, slow it down…” That was probably the only words he’s ever said that you could trust, so you anchor your ass down, taking in every inch of his length with his hands guiding your ass down. When you reach the base, you give yourself a few seconds to adjust to his girth within your velvety walls. “Fuck, ya feel so nice and tight, princess.”

“Is that so?” Sukuna walks from behind. “Can’t wait for me to have a go.” You couldn’t even comprehend the meaning of that sentence because the salmon-haired one kicked your back. You are now mounted on Toji completely, the two of you facing each other while Sukuna crouches behind your ass. “Get ready, I’m putting it in.”

“Huh?” Wait, both at the same time!? “Ho–Hold on, I’ve never done it in my ass bef—“

“Doesn’t sound like a problem to me; guess I’ll be the first then,” he shuts down your argument and then bends down to use his fingers and spit to ease your asshole. It feels so gross and repulsive that you could puke right now. Not that it would matter to Sukuna because he’s already set on doing it — his fore and middle finger pushing in and out of your anus. When he feels you’ve loosened up, he’ll remove his digits and substitute them with his cock.

And he doesn’t warn you either, fucking bastard; he nudges his dick in his own countdown with no regard to how you’re feeling. Gripping onto the raven-haired man’s black shirt, Sukuna’s cock puts you through pain worth traumatizing, evoking screams that scratch your throat until he gets the whole thing in your ass. Nanami would never put you through this much pain. Never!

“Aww, y’re making the pretty girl cry,” Toji teases condescendingly, chuckling at the sight of you burying your head in his chest to shield the embarrassment.

Sukuna hums while grinding his hips to your ass, a tiny bit of blood painting his shaft. “Hmph, good, makes my enjoyment worthwhile. Now,” you shriek with the sudden snap of his hips to your ass. “Let’s get this show started.”

When Sukuna moves, Toji follows right after, and you’re left to fend for yourself in this unsteady tempo from both your holes. You start seeing stars from the unusual stimulation, and your mind and vision become so blurry that it hurts to think. Hell, it hurts to try and concentrate on one dick at a time! One is currently scraping the wells of your walls in a way that your slit clenches around him, while the other churns your insides from the back that almost takes your breath away. More drool and tears seep into the black shirt you use to disguise yourself from them. This shit is already humiliating as is!

“C’mon now, baby. Show me that pretty face of y’rs.” Of course, Toji uses one hand to nudge your head to look at him. Your face is such a wet and hot mess, the sweat on your body making you sticky. The attempt to make sentences is beyond you, relying on moans and choked sobs to express your disorganized emotions. “There ya are. Good fuckin’ girl.”

Toji then takes your plump lips with his, his hand snaking to the back of your head to deepen the kiss. It was one thing letting them use your cunt and ass as they see fit; now, they dare to kiss you in a time like this. Oh, this is the absolute worst! How can you speak to Nanami ever again after this!? These lips are now sullied by the lips and cock of other men. You can’t ever go back and say that you were his, and it’s because of these assholes!!

…And what’s worse, you were starting to find enjoyment in what you were doing, sinking into Toji’s kiss and moaning into his scarred lips.

“Haahh…Mmmph…Damn, this slut is so fucking tight.” Sukuna watches your back glisten in the light while your ass quaked under his unstable momentum. He sneers before slapping your asscheek, resulting in a rushed moan and a twitch from your pussy. Toji breaks the kiss. “Hey, keep doing that. Think they like it.”

With devilish glee, the tattooed other doesn’t hold back. He gives you another smack to the ass, and more loud purrs and shrieks fill the space between you three. Fast ruts to your soaping slit and ass coincide with the strikes to your butt, catching you off guard and leaving a stinging sensation every time.

It’s apparent now that your hips start to move on their own, riding out your own high while preparing for your orgasm that’s climbing up. And the raven-haired man notices as he puts your hand on your aching buttcheeks. “Goin somewhere, dollface?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake, let me come already!! “—Ahhnn, ooohhhh!! I’m about to cummm—I’m gonna break—Eeyahhh!!!

“That so?” You want to wipe that smirk off his stupid, dumb, handsome face. “Then go ahead and get dirty, princess. Ring us up.”

Your arousal staggers up when both of their thrusts fall into a unity, the tender spots of your gummy walls from your ass and cunt being hit and abused prompt more ecstatic moans and your head pounding with every jab. Almost there, almost! Please, please, I want it!! And you are finally given what you want; your release crashes into you in a hard swoop, the shocks crawling up your body while your holes contract around both men’s cocks. Your brain falls into an erotic trance; you only care about the euphoric sensations tingling around your body. Dizziness overtakes you, and your head descends back on Toji’s chest.

“Hmph, you really a pathetic pet.” Sukuna grinds his pelvis into your sensitive ass. The aftershocks from your release still make your body react to their movements. “Chasing for your own orgasm, huh. We outta fuck that selfishness right out of you, damn brat…”

You don’t say anything — more like you don’t have the energy to. Your ass and chasm are too stuffed to keep your mind active, and your eyelids feel too heavy to keep up. It probably was from all that crying and screaming. All you want to do is go back to sleep in your bed at your cozy apartment. But that must be asking for too much. Just please end this nightmare…

Kenty…Please forgive me, I’m so sorry….

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You can’t remember how sleep found you that night. But your eyes open to the ray of sunshine that peaks through the binds of your bedroom. Wait, my bedroom!?

You shoot up from your bed, the soft comforter and sheets peeling off your skin, and the cool air from the air conditioning welcomes you back to your personal space. Everything untouched, everything where it’s supposed to be — where you’re supposed to be.

A deep breath is the first thing you do when you wake up, following a long exhale. Was I dreaming? You would’ve accepted that delusion had you not looked down to realize that your figure was covered with one of your oversized shirts, remembering that your old pajamas were cut and torn up. Flashes of last night return to haunt you, and shivers travel down your spine from realizing what transpired at those ungodly hours. You quickly check your sheets for any stains — Thank God, none. Funny how a pair of serial killing assholes have the decency to clean up your body.

And then a sudden feeling of dread crawls up after hearing your phone vibrating on your nightstand. You hurry to check the screen to find out it was a text message from Nanami. It’s a Saturday, 9 a.m. He’d usually be sleeping in until noon. Curious, you unlock your phone to check what your boyfriend is texting you about.

Recent Message from: ♡ my bby nanamiii ♡

Hey, Y/n. Hope you slept well and everything’s okay. I’m coming from Geto’s place after picking up Haibara, who is going through the worst hangover right now. He said he wants to see you and that you make the best meals for his hangovers. I don’t want to intrude if you’re not up for guests, so please tell me so I can take him somewhere else. But otherwise, we’ll be there at around 30-45 mins. Let’s just relax this weekend, okay?

Reading the text as you fall in love with him all over again. After what you’ve gone through, knowing that he’s safe and sound from any trouble, all you want right now is to be around him and hold him close. To be with him and forget about everything that’s happened.

You send a heartwarming reply saying you’ll be waiting for the two of them. Then, you remove yourself from the bed and stretch out your fatigued muscles. Ugh, I should probably shower before Nananmi gets here…

However, before you lift your shirt and head for the bathroom, you notice a glass of water and a bag full of pills. Huh…I definitely didn’t have that there when I went to sleep before I was taken. And next to the glass was a folded piece of paper. Curiosity got the best of you this morning as you picked up the material to read its contents.

And this is where you knew your life was changing, for better or worse. Your legs give out, making you fall to your knees with a shaky breath, the hairs of your body standing, and your heart on the verge of leaping out of your mouth. What you read crushed your whole being, leaving you cold in this world — worse than the autumn breeze.

Yo, thanks for the great time last night. Keep that up, and your pretty boytoy will keep standing. Here’s water and birth control, and keep that bag safe. Wouldn’t wanna end up losing it for the next time we fuck you dumb. See ya later, pet.

SR + TF

♱ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

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fayes-fics · 1 month

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When The World Is Free: Epilogue - Peace Ever After

MASTERPOST PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: None… the fluffiest fluff that ever fluffed. Also, our pair have some news for the world.

Word Count: 0.7k

Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl . Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. This is the neat little bow I wanted to wrap this fic up with. I hope you have enjoyed this story; it's been a pleasure to write. Thank you for reading, and many thanks as always to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!

Wiltshire, UK, 8th May 1945

Benedict’s arm is curled securely around your back as you dance together, Vera Lynn warbling from the wireless in the corner of your living room.

There'll be bluebirds over, The white cliffs of Dover, Tomorrow, just you wait and see…

His breath is warm on your hairline as you sway gently. A spontaneous, uplifting and tender moment to celebrate the end of the war. A lightness in your heart that this dreadful era is finally over and the overwhelming gratitude that all your loved ones have survived. This dance is also a peaceful, romantic interlude from the whirlwind your lives have become in the last few weeks.

There'll be love and laughter, And peace ever after, Tomorrow…

The shrill ring of the telephone echoing from the hallway of your cottage interrupts your reverie.

“Ignore it,” Benedict whispers in your ear.

“But we just had it installed! It’s only our third call. How exciting!” You lean back and shoot him your best pleading face, and he sighs and, with an affectionate eye roll, gestures for you to go answer it.

You rush over and pick up the heavy bakelite receiver, a crackle on the line that is an operator.

“Overseas call for the Bridgertons from Madam DuLac,” the operator announces primly.

“Oh wonderful, yes, please put her through!” you enthuse.

“Salut y/n!” comes that familiar voice from the past after a short delay.

“Solene! It’s so wonderful to hear from you! How are you? How’s Paris?”

Benedict walks over at the mention of her name, hovering nearby to partially eavesdrop.

“I am wonderful. Paris is finally free and as beautiful as ever. On this monumental day, I wanted to check on the lovebirds who didn’t invite me to their wedding,” she jibes good-naturedly.

You can’t help but giggle. “We are very well, and yet again, sorry.”

“Tu connais, there is one way you can remedy this,” she singsongs.

“Name it.”

“Your daughter shall be Solene oui? At least a middle name.”

You laugh heartily, then shoot Benedict a sultry look that makes his brow crease, intrigued.

“Why don’t you nag my husband about that?” you challenge lightly as he draws nearer.

He crowds into your back and takes the receiver from your hand, tilting it between you so you can both hear.

“What is my darling wife roping me into now?” he inquires dryly.

“Giving her a daughter that must be named Solene…” your ex-landlady chimes cheekily.

“Is she now?” his voice drops to a throatier register that immediately has you flustered. “And what is wrong with the son I just gave her?” he queries casually as he raises a flirtatious eyebrow at you.

“Vous avez un bebe?!?” Solene gasps. “Felicitations!!”

“Oui!” You grin happily as Benedict's lips ghost over your temple lovingly. “We were about to send out telegrams with the news. Louis Jerome Bridgerton,” you pronounce proudly. “He is three weeks old, and he is our whole world…” your sigh so contented as you lean into your husband's attention.

“You named him after my brother-in-law?” Solene protests with mock indignance. “Then I definitely get the middle name for the girl!”

“It was after the man who married us,” Benedict points out laconically before conceding, “who, yes, coincidentally is also your brother in law…”

“And I shall expect a visit when petit Louis is a little older to see the wonders of Paris,” she hints unsubtly.

“Of course! His first trip will be to the Louvre,” your husband pronounces. “It was the very first place his parents went on a date, after all,” he adds, shooting you that trademark lopsided grin.

You elbow him mildly. “That was not a date!”

“It was for me, mon amour….” he side-eyes you heatedly. It makes you want to drag him upstairs and start on those daughter plans immediately.

“I should go and make my next call… to your sister and Phillip indeed; I just wanted to wish you a very happy Victory Day!” Solene interrupts your amorous moment.

“Et toi aussi,” you both answer in unison.

“Vive la France! Vive L’Angleterre! We won mes amis! Le monde est libre!”

You and Benedict’s eyes meet, a poignant moment, as the call disconnects.

“The world is free indeed,” he echoes softly, putting down the phone and sweeping you into his arms for a stirring kiss.

FIN

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pinchofhoney · 2 months

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perfectly flawed

benedict bridgerton x princess!reader

word count: 2.7k

warning: hurt without comfort, it might be suggestive but there's nothing inappropriate about it (friends with benefits but without any details)

summary: Finding love as a princess comes with its challenges, but becoming a mistress was never part of the plan.

a/n: two things; one, over these few months i forgot what it's like to write something that isn't an academic paper. two, in the process of writing it i forgot that i was supposed to write it based on a song. i suppose i'm already a different person than i was just the week ago when i asked you for your opinion, but regardless, feel welcome to read this,, thing<33

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers

London, 18th April 1814

Dearest Readers,

The Season has barely begun, yet the glittering ballrooms of London are already abuzz with whispers and speculation. The cause of this fervour? None other than the captivating niece of Her Majesty. The fairy-like young lady, whose arrival in London coincided with the Season’s beginning, has ignited a flurry of theories.

Is she a princess, a countess, or perhaps a secret agent on a mission? The whispers echo through the salons, each speculation more imaginative than the last. Her regal bearing and the way she holds her fan hint at noble lineage, but her eyes hold secrets that defy easy classification. Could she be a pawn in a political game, or does her purpose lie closer to matters of the heart? Suitors line up, eager to claim her hand, but our debutante remains an unknown figure, casting doubt upon the intentions behind her smile.

Gentlemen of distinction have flocked to her side, vying for her attention. Lord Pembroke, the dashing heir to a vast estate, has been seen trailing her like a devoted puppy. The Duke of Ashford, brooding and aloof, has deigned to engage her in conversation. And then there is Captain Sinclair, whose sea-green eyes promise both danger and adventure.

At Lady Featherington's soirée, our young lady engaged in spirited conversation with none other than Miss Eloise Bridgerton. Their conversation delved into matters of politics—a most unconventional choice. Is our French princess a revolutionary sympathizer, or does she simply relish the thrill of intellectual sparring?

Rest assured, dear readers, that Lady Whistledown shall be your faithful guide through the twists and turns of this unfolding narrative. Prepare your fans and polish your silver spoons, for the London Season has just begun, and in the shadow of the Queen's niece, our world is poised to be turned upside down. Society must brace itself for a whirlwind of speculation, as we stand on the brink of a most intriguing chapter.

Yours Truly,

Lady Whistledown

‎

At the very core of the French Empire, you were raised as the epitome of grace and subtlety. With royal blood coursing through your veins, you were groomed to be the perfect lady, the jewel of the imperial court. Every step you took, every word you said, was a careful composition, painting the portrait of an eminent lineage.

From a young age, you were taught the art of etiquette, your days filled with lessons on poise, embroidery, and the subtle language of the fan. Your attire, always impeccable, was the evidence of your status and breeding. The world perceived you as the embodiment of perfection, a delicate blossom requiring protection from the harsh realities beyond the palace walls.

Yet, behind the facade of the devoted princess, a secreted truth blossomed. Beneath the tangled layers of silk and lace, your spirit, unyielding and untamed, stood in defiance of the expectations of courtly life. The allure of royal grandeur held little sway over you, and the burden of societal obligations felt like a daily donning of a suffocating corset.

The shimmering balls and elaborate rituals became stifling, making your heart to ache for those fleeting moments of genuine connection, uncontrolled laughter, and a subtle taste of the forbidden. Although French suitors eagerly fought for your attention and the allure of your family's wealth, your soul yearned for a partner who would daringly challenge the scripted norms, infusing romance with a breath of spontaneous authenticity.

And thus, to address your reluctance to accept the prearranged path, your mother came up with a plan. Sending you to the splendour of London under the watchful eye of the Queen, your beloved aunt, she hoped this change of scenery would guide you towards a dutiful marriage, in line with the expectations befitting your royal lineage. What slipped out of her seemingly perfect idea, however, was the playful nature of fate, particularly when guided by those who avoid predictability. So, your journey to the bustling heart of British metropolis grew with an outcome greatly different from your mother's expectations.

Your aunt, holding the most esteemed position in the United Kingdom, was admired for her wisdom and understanding. But the hours of lessons imparted to you from an early age, combined with your ability to conceal your rebellious nature from the public eye, had transformed you into a pretty great actress. And your performance, crafted over the years, was so convincing that even someone as sharp as the Queen herself failed to see through the carefully constructed act.

But perhaps, this time, you've got too close to the edge, because in the blink of an eye, you found yourself entangled in a situation that, if exposed, would not only scandalize all of England but also cast a shadow over France, where your family hopefully awaited news of your impending marriage.

And how did it all start?

The beginning of your tale remains in the memories of that fateful debutante ball, where a single innocent look changed the course of your luck. It was a brief moment, a shared exchange of glimpse between you and Benedict Bridgerton, that seemed to stretch time itself. In the glimmer of that ballroom, his bright eyes locked onto yours from across the room, and the world around you seemed to slow, as if giving space for something beyond a mere glance.

You had no idea what captivated you about the man who didn't really stand out among the other attendees, but most likely it was this quiet strength of his gaze. The gaze without the typical fascination you'd grown used to as a princess of the French Empire or the usual envy that flickered in the eyes of those desperate to secure a partner who determined their life's worth. Benedict's gaze was just different. It held no trace of the thought that you were merely a silly princess with a title. It carried the feeling that you were a masterpiece, a creation worthy of admiration. And it stirred a yearning within you, an insatiable thirst for freedom and authenticity that your heart had craved for so long.

A brief exchange of words with Benedict at the ball opened your eyes, making you believe that not every man who sought your company was doing so only for your family's wealth. As you danced together, his touch ignited a spark, a fleeting moment of intimacy that lingered long after the music faded into the night, and each stolen glance exchanged across the crowded ballroom carried the weight of unspoken desires. It felt as though the connection that binds soulmates was about to disappear when your paths crossed, signalling that you had, finally, found one another.

And so, it began. A secret affair that grew under the cloak of darkness, far from the prying eyes of nosy socialites waiting to catch a glimpse of scandal. In the hidden corners of London, where shadows whispered secrets and the night sky painted a canvas of stars, you found comfort in the arms of Benedict, a man not necessarily burdened by the weight of societal expectations, yet bound by his own hesitation to commit to anything beyond the present moment.

As the inappropriate meetings became routine, you assumed the role of a mistress, a position you never imagined yourself in, and the only rule you committed to follow during your secret dates was the lack of romantic feelings. Yet, despite your best efforts to maintain a facade of emotional distance, your heart had a way of defying logic. With each stolen moment spent in Benedict's company, you found yourself drawn deeper into the labyrinth of emotions, a labyrinth fraught with longing and desire. What started as a simple agreement, devoid of romantic sentiments, soon evolved into something far more sincere.

And it genuinely scared you.

You walked nervously around the place of your every rendezvous with Benedict, your fingers nervously picking the cuticles near your nail—a gesture unsuitable for the lady you were expected to be. But in the fuss of events that have happened in London so far, such a thing seemed a minor violation. Not only did the task of slipping unnoticed from the royal palace grew increasingly difficult, but the relentless fluttering in your heart at the mere thought of Bridgerton haunted your sleepless nights.

Throughout your life, you had yearned for a love different from the one you had observed in French society. And now, when the opportunity to live your fairy tale presented itself, reality proved to be just an unrequited feeling. While you were happy to see Benedict and yearned for his presence, it seemed he may only crave your body, not the depths of your soul.

You wanted today's meeting to be the last one, a meeting where nothing would happen. Or so you convinced yourself. The purpose was clear: to say goodbye to Benedict and to draw the curtain on a relationship built on fleeting glances and secret meetings. And even though probably the best choice would have been to just stop showing up on these encounters and withdrawing from public spaces where you might cross paths, you didn't want to just pretend that nothing had ever happened between you two. The social season was still around you, and avoiding the consequences of your actions would only complicate everything. Maybe not for Benedict, but for you, for sure.

And then, the silence broken every second by your anxious heartbeat was completely shattered by the sound of footsteps. Turning, you were met with the sight of Benedict Bridgerton approaching with firm strides, and his presence seemed to overshadow your plans to say goodbye when, for a moment, the world seemed to pause as you lost yourself in the intensity of his gaze.

Without a word, he wrapped his arms around your waist, and his touch sent pleasant shivers down your spine. The warmth of his embrace, coupled with the subtle brush of his breath against your skin, stirred conflicting emotions within you. Your heart quickened its pace, betraying the reason you came for this final meeting.

“I've been thinking about you all day,” Benedict whispered, and his breath caressed your delicate skin. But as much as the desire for intimacy flickered within, you held steadfast to the resolution you had set for this meeting.

With a gentle pull, you extricated yourself from his embrace, creating a safe distance between the two of you. The tingling sensation stayed on your skin, as a remaining echo of his touch that resonated through every fibre of your being. “We need to talk,” you said, your voice steadier than your racing heart. Benedict's eyes, once filled with a yearning, now searched yours for an answer to an as yet unspoken question.

“Talk?” he asked, his voice laced with a hint of playful intrigue as he arched one of his eyebrows with his signature smile dancing upon his lips. “About what?” he pressed, and with an air of casual confidence, he crossed his arms over his chest as he ambled a few steps to the side. “You're not going to tell me you've fallen in love, are you, princess?”

A nervous laugh bubbled up from within, escaping between your lips before you could hold it back. In an attempt to mirror Benedict's movements, you crossed your arms over your chest, your head shaking with feigned amusement. “Fall in love?” you repeated his words, adopting a tone of playful dismissal. “Don't be ridiculous, of course not,” you declared, adding a scoff at the end, as if to fortify the illusion of light-hearted banter. Hoping to shield your true feelings, now concealed beneath a facade of amusement, you met Benedict's gaze with a look of mock disbelief.

“We should end this relationship,” the words spilled from your lips, hoping your voice wouldn't betray how fast your heart was beating at that moment. “I did not come to London to become just another woman in the arms of the Viscount's son. If my mother were to find out, she'd blame herself for raising me poorly, and that's not the truth,” you began to rationalize, your words flowing as an attempt to justify the decision you had set before both of you. “I have obligations to fulfil, a path to follow, and I won't achieve that by sleeping with you.”

Benedict watched you in silence, not knowing if you were serious. His gaze bore into you, seeking answers within the depths of your eyes.

“Now you're the one being ridiculous,” he retorted, his tone carrying a gentle scolding. Leaning against a nearby counter, he looked at you with a combination of disbelief. “Since when have you cared so deeply about living up to your mother's expectations?”

“I've come to understand that my mother wants what she believes is best for me. As a princess of the French Empire, there are certain expectations I must meet, whether I appreciate them or not,” you said, closing the physical distance between yourself and Benedict. Self-control was what kept your hands from reaching out as you stopped just in front of him. “Think about what would happen if our secret were to be exposed. It would be the end for both of us, and the scandal would echo across the entire continent. The Queen herself would likely seek our demise.” You emphasized your words by pointing a finger at yourself. “I cannot ruin the honour of the entire royal family for a fleeting moment of pleasure.”

Benedict met your gaze with a silent acknowledgment of the truth in your words, yet beneath the veneer of understanding, a flicker of defiance danced in his eyes. “So, what are you saying? You're suddenly prepared to sacrifice your entire life for the expectations of your family that would see you married and bearing children with some man who would likely make you miserable?” he asked, a trace of frustration evident in his voice.

A moment of silence ensued as you fixed your gaze on Benedict. Finally, a disbelieving scoff escaped your lips, and you shook your head. Taking a few steps away, you placed your hands on your hips, a gesture mirroring the internal conflict within you. “Perhaps you haven't noticed yet, Benedict, but I am a woman. And in a world dictated by the whims of men, the role assigned to women is often reduced to that of an obedient wife, tasked with bringing some affluent man's heir into the world. It's not about what I want; it's about what everyone else around me expects.”

As Benedict made a move to step closer, a surge of urgency propelled you to speak before he could interject. “I should be going now. The palace servants are growing increasingly suspicious.”

Despite the assertiveness in your tone, Benedict, keen to the nuances of unspoken emotions, closed the physical gap between you, and his touch went through the delicate fabric of your glove as he gently took your hand. “We can at least end this in a better way,” he suggested, his voice tinged with a suggestive undertone as he met your gaze.

A resolute “No” escaped your lips, infused with an overt firmness born out of the fear that another moment in his gaze might make you give in to your heart's desires. You couldn't afford the risk of surrendering to the tempting pull of his lips once again, the very lips you yearned for. “That's all I wanted to tell you today,” you continued, gently squeezing his hand as if to punctuate your resolve. Purposefully avoiding his gaze, you added, “It's over, but know that every meeting with you has been a pleasure, Mr. Bridgerton. Goodbye.” Articulated so, you withdrew your hand from Benedict's grasp, leaving only the delicate glove in his hold.

With a swift spin, you turned away and your hurried footsteps carrying you out into the rain-soaked streets of London. A quick glance confirmed the absence of prying eyes, making you hasten your pace, putting distance between yourself and the building that housed your shattered heart. As you took each step, the words exchanged at that moment of parting reverberated in your mind. The relation between you and Benedict had ignited sparks of passion and left a sweet ache of longing. Now, the path ahead led you towards the marriage your family desired, a hopeful step to fill the void left by thoughts of Bridgerton.

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caelesjjk · 2 years

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sanguine - jjk- part one

⟶title: sanguine

⟶au: vampire au, arranged marriage au, royalty au

⟶ pairing: vampire king!jungkook x human queen fem reader

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ genre: romance, kinda slow burn?, smut, angst

⟶wc: 10.5k

⟶warnings: some swearing, mentions of blood, lots of sexual tension, one kiss, a bit angsty, reader is a badass. No smut for this part my fellow horny bitches, but there is certainly smut in the future.

⟶ summary: Marry the vampire king. Save the kingdom.

Your father is the king of a rare human kingdom that has been plagued by famine and sickness. And in a last ditch effort to save the kingdom, he has arranged for you to marry the vampire king to the north. Your hand in marriage in exchange for his help in saving your kingdom.

Everything you swore could never happen between the two of you begins to unfold as you spend more time in the vampire kingdom with its king and his subjects. Can you learn to love this place and it’s beloved ruler?

⟶ authors note: hi friends. this has been a whirlwind of a fic and this is only part one lol. it’s my baby in a way because I’ve had this idea for so long. I started writing it long before my king decided to actually grace us all with his vampire concept for his folio. that only encouraged me more to get this done.

A few shoutouts need to be made because without these people I don’t think I’d ever finished this. @jeonjcngkook jords, not only did you beta the shit out of this, but you’ve been there for me while I’ve written it and listened to me whine and cry for weeks. u have no idea how much it means. @haliiimede for reading through and convincing me that it wasn’t trash and giving me such lovely feedback. And also a huge thanks to @tea4sykes for reading through and encouraging me the whole way, ur the best Kay. @missgeniality siya, you absolute angel, I literally owe you big time for this amazing banner. and thank you for making me a new one when jungkook dropped all the vampire content lol. It’s so stunning.

(Vows found at vampireweddings.blogspot.com)

Alright enough blabbing, please enjoy! Send me all the feedback!

For the good of the kingdom.

For the good of mankind.

That was what your family kept telling you…no, they insisted that this was the only way.

Your father’s kingdom had become wrought with sickness, famine, and the people were starving. All of the resources available had been drained, there was nothing left.

And so, in a desperate plea for help, your father went to the vampire kingdom in the north, with whom your kingdom shared a border. And while the vampire king was willing to help, he wanted to make sure that this alliance was official and binding. He asked that you marry him to join your kingdoms, and that way there would be no reason for any type of betrayal.

You hated the idea. You fought it with everything that you had. The vampires disgusted you with their lust for blood and their strange habits. It was the worst thing you thought could happen.

But your father was right, it was the only choice your kingdom had left, and you had a duty to the people.

With that realization, is how you find yourself under this gorgeous oak tree in the middle of the night. The stars and moon and a few scattered candles are the only light to be found in this open field.

“Welcome one and all, witnesses to both His Highness the King and ______, princess of the human kingdom to our South, as they pledge their dedication to walk the night together. From the night we come, to the night we go, Cursed or blessed to walk the moonlight alone.”

The wedding dress that is chosen for you to wear is dark crimson, a bloody reminder of just who exactly is standing before you. With full lace skirts that drag against the ground, it’s light, airy even. It feels incredibly soft against your skin as your finger tips brush against the fabric but none of that matters as you still feel like you’re suffocating. It’s the absolute opposite of the dress you imagined yourself wearing on your wedding day but it is tradition here in the vampire kingdom for the bride to wear red.

“Sometimes another soul walks our path, Then two become one, in love everlasting. Come forward, Children of the Blood, And welcome this couple to your brood, Within each other, these two are found, Bear witness as their souls are bound.”

The hardest part of this is that it needs to be believable, and at the same time, the subjects from both kingdoms wanted you and the king to hate each other. So the wedding had to be done with official vows, ones that made it sound like the two of you were in love. It makes your stomach churn as the priest continues to speak.

“Please bring your left wrists forward towards me.” The priest said with a soft smile. Though it was gentle, his fangs are still visible, sending a shiver down your spine.

He takes out a red sash from his pocket and gently ties it around both of your wrists, Jungkook’s cold skin brushes against yours and makes you jump slightly. Though it’s as cold as stone, it’s also as soft as cashmere.

Finally, you allow yourself to look up at the man standing next to you.

You hate that he is so beautiful. Possibly the most beautiful being you have ever seen. Soft, thick, black hair slightly smoothed back away from his forehead, eyes almost as black as his tresses and lips that were sharp and hued pink.

When he catches you staring for a bit too long, he merely smirks and turns his attention to you.

“Sorry.” The king mouths to you, no sound coming from his mouth. You look back towards the priest quickly. He holds out a golden goblet beneath your bound wrists.

“Stand now as ye will stand forever, Like this crimson cloth your hearts are tethered, This goblet's contents are your symbols of devotion, So take the rings from the Goblet.”

Your hand shakes violently as you reach into the cup to retrieve the silver band that is to be placed on Jungkook’s right finger. You swallow thickly as you toy with the silver band in between your fingers, your pulse quickening because you know that not only can Jungkook hear the beating sounds of your heart, but all the other vampires present as well. Jungkook does the same with your wedding ring but with more confidence in his motions.

The ring he holds for you is a silver band as well, but it also contains a dark shaded ruby, cut into the shape of a blood drop or possibly a tear in the case of this marriage. But even then, it was stunning.

“______, please repeat these vows after me:

I will stand by your side, hunt at your back, and fly within your Soul. I will stand between you and all which would harm you. I will shield you from the Light of Day with my flesh. I will never betray you, for you are my Heart, my Soul and my Life.”

These vows had been written hundreds of years ago, meant for two vampires binding themselves together…not a vampire king and someone like you who is so very human. But you say them anyway, your heart still hammering in your chest as you turn your body towards the king and take his hand into yours, noticing just how soft his hands are before you slip the ring onto his awaiting finger.

“I will stand by your side, hunt at your back…” You pause when your voice shakes for a moment, “and fly within your Soul. I will stand between you and all which would harm you. I will shield you from the Light of Day with my flesh. I will never betray you, for you are my Heart, my Soul and my Life.”

You place the ring onto his finger and release the breath you have been holding the entire time. Jungkook smiles and takes your hand into his.

“King Jungkook, please repeat the vows to your bride.”

Jungkook waits a moment for you to look up at him, his eyes hold yours and his thumb rubs gently over the back of your hand. You wish you could pull it away…even more, you wish you wanted to pull it away.

“I will stand by your side, hunt at your back, and fly within your Soul. I will stand between you and all which would harm you. I will shield you from the Light of Day with my flesh. I will never betray you, for you are my Heart, my Soul and my Life.” His voice is alluring and even, as if he isn’t nervous about this at all. He slides the ring down your finger and lets it sit perfectly against your warm skin.

The priest hands the goblet to one of his assistants and turns back to the two of you after you’ve both finished.

“Above you are the stars, below you are the stones. As time passes, remember, like the star should your love burn brightly, like the stone should your love be firm. Be close, yet not so close that you restrict one another. Possess one another, yet grant each other the freedom to grow. Be understanding and compassionate, and have patience with each other, for storms may come, but they will quickly pass. Be free in giving affection and warmth. Fear not, lest the ways or words of the unenlightened give you unease.” He clasps his hands over your joined ones before he finishes the last part of the ceremony.

“As both your arms and the cloth form the symbol of eternity, may your love endure through this life and all others. As the Gods and the old ones are witness, with those of us present now, I proclaim them Husband and Wife, and thus are they bonded in Blood. The Two are now one. I present to you the Blood King Jungkook and Queen ______ forever bound, eternally free! You are husband and wife for all eternity. You may now kiss each other to seal your eternal bond of love.” The priest opens his arms and presents the two of you to the guests.

A kiss…was it necessary? Would they believe you if you didn’t kiss him? Would he be able to resist biting you? Would he taste of blood on his lips? So many thoughts plagued your mind in the moments before he cupped your cheek and tilts your face towards his.

“It’s just a kiss.” Jungkook whispered, only loud enough for you to hear. Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion at his gentle touch.

“One kiss.” You step forward and wrap the arm holding your bouquet behind his back as he leans down to mold his lips against yours.

You weren’t expecting the softness of them, assuming that their appearance would be deceiving. His cool hand on your cheek brings you just the slightest bit closer as your lips brush over his once…twice…three times before your brain catches up with you and you remember who you are kissing.

There are whispers amongst the wedding guests who watch the scene unfold in front of them. Some with disgust. Some with curiosity. However even with the divided opinions in the crowd, they all share the same opinionated attitude. You try to ignore them as best you can.

Your lips separate from his a little too quickly and your hand immediately flies up to cover your mouth and the gasp that escapes you. Jungkook smiles, a flash of fangs when his lips pull back, and gently touches the veil hanging from your head and cascading over your shoulders. He takes your free hand in his and turns you both towards the guests, who clap but don’t seem to be pleased.

“And now the crowns.” The priest turns back to his assistants and picks up the crown that belongs to Jungkook first. The king bends slightly at the waist and the crown is placed gently atop his head.

The crown looks too perfect on him, black and silver metal twisted into spikes with small red gems at the base. It’s as if he has always worn one, perfectly designed with Jungkook in mind. And maybe he has, you don’t know how long he’s been the king after all.

You hadn’t actually seen your crown until this moment. The priest picks it up from a black silk pillow and presents it to you to observe. Like Jungkooks, it too is also made from black and silver metal twisted into even more dramatic spikes. Large, jagged diamonds and rubies cover it in its entirety. It looks ridiculously heavy, and when the priest places it on your head, you find your assumption to be correct. Heavy and cold.

From somewhere nearby, horns and trumpets start to play, signaling the end of the ceremony. Jungkook takes your hand again, and the two of you make your way back down the makeshift aisle your father had nervously walked you down less than an hour ago, and already things feel so different.

You’re quickly whisked away by carriage. The space inside doesn’t feel big enough, you can’t get far enough away from him, but he simply stays on his side of the bench seat and doesn’t move towards you on the ride back to the castle.

Once you’ve arrived, you’re met at the doors by Jungkook's advisor, Namjoon, who you had met a few times beforehand during meetings with Jungkook and your father. He has a kind face, gentle like he could do no harm, but that did not change the fact that he is a still a vampire. Standing next to him is the Captain of the vampire kingdom's army, Yoongi. You had also met him previously, but he doesn’t speak much unless it’s to Jungkook regarding the royal army.

“Did everything go accordingly?” Namjoon asks as the two of you ascend the stairs to the castle.

“It was my wedding, Namjoon, not a transaction.” Jungkook moved to the side and motioned with his hand for you to walk ahead of him through the doors.

“Is that not exactly what this is?” You hear Namjoon say just before you’re inside, Jungkook sighing as he follows.

“He’s right.” You grumble.

“Beg your pardon?” Jungkook says from beside you, his hands clasped behind his back as the two of you walk towards the great hall where the celebration and dinner is being held.

“It wasn’t a real wedding. It’s part of a bargain.” You stop to face him and he does the same, looking at you bewildered.

“Perhaps the circumstances aren’t ideal, but the wedding was real, my queen.” He bows to you, and you’re sure the scowl on your face is as deep as they come.

“Let’s get this night over with.” You grab the skirt of your dress in your fists and begin stomping off towards the great hall. You can hear Jungkook laugh quietly, but you choose to ignore him.

You’re forced to mingle, your hand wrapped through Jungkook's arm as the two of you make rounds through the room. You absolutely despise the whole experience. But soon enough, you’re thankfully seated at the head table and wine is poured into your cup.

You notice that yours and your parents' place settings are the only ones with plates. But of course they would be, no one else in this damned kingdom eats food.

Downing the first glass of wine in one gulp, you signal for an attendant to bring you another one. You can feel Jungkook's eyes on you as you down one glass after another, unable to bring yourself to care about what he could possibly be thinking.

“Do you want any?” You finally ask him after your third glass. A very unladylike hiccup following.

“I think you know the answer to that question already, my queen.” He smiles softly but his jaw is tight with annoyance.

“I’m not your queen.” You say a little too loudly. Some of the guests begin turning their attention to you.

“You have every right to be angry, _____.” Jungkook tries to say under his breath, but you scoff loudly, reaching for the bottle of wine and rudely snatching it from the attendant.

“Angry? That does not even begin to cover it. I am outraged.” You take a swig from the bottle and laugh bitterly. “I am disgusted…and I am not your queen. You and your people are just…fucking vile.” You look up from the bottle of wine to see a look of horror on your father’s face from where he sits at the next table. You know you’ve said too much. You’ve been cruel. “Jungkook…” You start to correct yourself but he cuts you off by standing up from his chair with so much force that it flies back against the wall, causing the guests to look up and stare.

“One thing you are not going to do is insult my people. You can say all the terrible things you want about me, but not them. Not when they’ve given up so much so that your people can live.” He grabs your wrist and pulls you to your feet. “Let’s go.”

“Let go of me.” You try to pull your wrist away, but it’s no use against his inhuman strength. “Release me this instant!” Jungkook continues to pull you towards the door, your legs wobbly from wine and the heels on your feet.

“The evening is over. You need to sleep it off.” He pushes open the door and drags you into the dimly lit hallway.

“I am not sleeping with you!” Even though it’s futile, you scratch and pull at the sleeve of his embroidered jacket.

“As if I’d expect that of you.” Jungkook scoffs and swings you around to face him. He maneuvers your body until you’re pressed against the wall with your arms above your head, one of his hands pinning your wrists there.

“Let go!” You try to kick at him but he dodges every time.

“Whether you like it or not, my queen, this is your home now and these are your people. I have and will continue to do what’s best for everyone involved, including you.” His eyes are almost pitch black, a deep red threatening to spill into the iris’ as he speaks through his clenched teeth.

You must stop forgetting that Jungkook is a monster.

“You know nothing of what’s best for me.” You begin moving to spit in his face, but he knows what you are about to do before you have even finished the thought. His free hand comes up to cover your mouth, leaving you to glare at him without being able to talk.

“Listen carefully, my queen.” The grip on your wrists tightens slightly. “You are not the only one making sacrifices around here. So when you decide you want to act like royalty and not some drunken heathen, by all means come to me.” You jerk around in his hold, you just want him to get the hell away from you. He seems to understand your request as he slowly takes his hand away from your mouth.

“I fear you’ll be waiting a very long time, your highness. Possibly until my death, but I’m sure you’ll find that day ever so joyous.” You use your body weight to push at him once more and he finally releases you, but stays in close vicinity.

“Don’t assume you know anything about what I find joyous.” Jungkook looks over his shoulder towards the guards who are standing near the doorway to the hall. “Escort her majesty to her chambers, she’s not to leave them for the night.” Jungkook straightens his shirt and jacket, and begins making his way back towards the dinner hall.

“You can’t just lock me away! Do you hear me?” One of the guards motions for you to walk towards the opposite hallway.

“No more talking tonight. Go to sleep.” Jungkook says over his shoulder before he disappears into the dinner hall. You scoff loudly, taking off walking as fast as your drunken legs will allow you to go.

“Stupid, ignorant, pig headed blood sucker.” You grumble under your breath as you continue down the hallway. The dim lighting from the candles doesn’t allow you to see much, but you can see there is art on the walls that you would rather enjoy if you were not so pissed off. And if they did not belong to the most ridiculous man you had ever met.

The guards lead you to a winding staircase where you quickly find out that in your drunken state you are unable to climb them unassisted. At the top of the first set of stairs they split, one set going left and the other going right. The guards gesture for you to head to the left.

“And where does the right go?” You ask with a hiccup.

“To the king's chambers.” One of them replies. Jungkook had not been lying, he really had prepared your very own chambers. You reach the doors to your bedroom soon after.

One of the guards opens the door for you to enter the room. You cross your arms over your chest and practically stomp inside, turning around to face them.

“Your king is sadly mistaken if he thinks he can lock me up for the rest of my life. I’d rather die.” You aren’t sure what you expect them to say, but they merely bow before shutting the door.

As soon as it clicks shut, you grab the skirt of your dress into your hands and begin ripping the fabric apart, tossing the pieces around the room.

“Stupid, ridiculous, hideous dress.” You screech, grabbing the sleeves at the shoulders and ripping them apart too. You bend down to grab the heels off your feet, stumbling around before yanking them off and chucking them as far away from you as possible.

Your chest heaves with short breaths as you feel yourself burning with rage. Reaching up into your hair, you hastily pull out as many of the pins holding it into place as you can. You start to walk towards the wardrobe when you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror on the far wall. You look like a forest witch. And not the good kind.

Changing your mind about finding other clothes, you begin to notice that there isn’t much in your room. A few vases with fresh flowers and a bed with soft, silky white sheets. There’s a white fur rug at the foot of it and a very large trunk atop that. There’s also a small fireplace in the corner with a few small logs in a basket nearby. The room was otherwise quite empty.

Looking through another set of double doors, you find the washroom. There’s a claw foot tub in one corner with several shelves of soaps and oils on the wall behind it.

As badly as you want to bathe, you need to find ways to protect yourself. Weapons. You need to learn the layout of the castle so that you know where all the exits are at all times. And you also need to find some food. Food in a castle full of creatures who don’t eat it. You sigh loudly, almost tripping over some pieces of your skirt on the marble floor.

Looking down at what's left of your wedding dress on your body is almost laughable. It’s mostly just the bodice and a few pieces covering your lower region in a tattered disarray. You cannot bring yourself to care, this dress was a mistake. It was all a mistake.

You walk out onto the balcony and see a ledge that looks just big enough for you to make your way over to the next room. Wasting no time, you swing your leg over the side, feeling a bit dizzy and suddenly remembering that you’re still quite drunk. But there is no time to sober up now, you have missions to complete.

Still barefoot, you balance onto the ledge and carefully side step your way along the stone. It's only about ten feet from your balcony to the next one.

You get a little too ahead of yourself and almost slip just once, but manage to climb over the railing of the next balcony successfully. You slink over to the window and peer inside, seeing what appears to be an empty guest room. Trying the handle for the doors, you’re overly pleased to find that they are unlocked.

Once inside, you press yourself against the wall and move towards the bedroom door. You pray that once you open it, there will be no vampire guards waiting for you. You have yet to secure a weapon and this might be your only chance to do so when so many of the castle's occupants are still at your wedding reception.

Slowly, you open the door, poking your head outside to see the guards are still occupied with watching over your bedroom door. You silently thank the gods, tip toeing into the hall, you're able to make a mad dash as soon as you’ve rounded the corner and gotten out of the guards sight.

You run until you find the winding staircase that you had come upstairs on. Its familiar shape lets you know that you’re going the right way. Eyes darting from side to side, you descend the stairs, making sure there are no vampires lurking about in the halls.

With absolutely no idea where you are going, you take the hallway to the left, and to your surprise, you smell food. The scent gets stronger and more distinct the further you travel down the hallway. You notice a swinging door, the sounds of clanging pans and a soft voice coming from inside. You brave a peek inside the small round window on the door, the person inside has their back to you for a moment, but when they turn around to face you, you almost cry.

Hoseok.

You shove open the swinging door with all your might, jumping onto a very unsuspecting Hoseok, who screams bloody murder at the sight of you. He almost falls backwards, but catches himself on the corner of the counter.

“Get off of me, witch!” Hoseok yells, reaching for a frying pan in hopes to knock out the creature currently hugging his torso.

“Oh, Hoseok, I’m so happy to see you.” You cry into his chef's coat.

“______? Is that really you?” He grabs your shoulders and moves you back to get a look at you. “My god, it really is you. What the hell happened to you?” He picks up a piece of your dress from the floor that must've fallen off in your rush to get to him.

“How are you here? Why?” You sniffle, tears streaming down your face.

“The king asked me to come stay here and be your chef…since you know, they don’t eat food and you do.” Hoseok pats the top of your head affectionately.

Hoseok is your closest friend. You had grown up together back in your father’s kingdom. His mother had been a long time servant of your parents, the most loyal that you could ask for. Hoseok had inherited that particular trait from her. He began cooking as you got older and soon became one of the best chefs in your kingdom. You were very surprised when you heard your father was so willing to let him go.

“My father let you come? Who will make him those banana pancakes he loves so much?” You laugh, wiping your face so you can get a better look at him, making sure that he’s really here in front of you.

“No, not your father, I meant King Jungkook. He apparently gave your father a rather large sum to make sure that I came here to cook for you.” Hoseok shrugs his shoulders and smiles widely.

“Why would he do that?” You hiss.

“I don’t know, _____. Maybe he just wanted you to be comfortable here.” Hoseok gives you another small hug, then moves around you to continue what he was working on before.

“I find that hard to believe.” You scoff.

“Do you want to explain why the hell you look like a swamp witch?” Hoseok is packaging some food and placing it into the cold room that was filled with ice.

“I…may have gotten drunk at the reception…and got sent to my rooms like a child. And I may have thrown a fit of rage about it.” You plop yourself down on a wooden stool in the corner of the kitchen. You learned a long time ago not to get in his way when he was working.

“You? Throw a fit? Could not imagine such a thing.” He laughs before closing the door to the cold room. “So you haven’t eaten?”

“No. I’m starving Hoseok, please make me food.” You whine to your friend and he rolls his eyes in response.

“You’re lucky I don’t beat you with this plate of food. I made this damn dinner for the reception and they brought your plate back to me untouched? You’re on thin ice my friend.” Hoseok pulls a plate of food from the oven that he had been keeping warm there and sits it in front of you.

“Have I ever told you that I love you?” You don’t bother waiting for him to hand you any utensils as you grab the food with your hands, dismissing the fact that it’s too hot to be eating. You’re too hungry to care.

“One day in the vampire kingdom and you’ve already lost your mind.” Hoseok places a fork beside your plate, but still, you ignore it.

“Do you have knives in here?” Your face lights up, looking around the kitchen.

“I’m a little hesitant to give you any sharp objects right now _____.” Hoseok looks at you with concern reaching his face.

“It’s for protection, Hobi. We’re the only two humans for miles, aren’t you a bit concerned about that?” Your mouth is half full of food as you speak and Hoseok looks disgusted as you stand up and start rifling through his kitchen.

“Of course it’s a little…unsettling. But the king isn’t going to let anything happen to us. Especially you.” Hobi walks behind you, picking things up as you make a mess. You scoff at the last part.

“He cares about me as much as I care about him, which is not at all.” You finally find the drawer that holds the kitchen knives. “Finally! Why didn’t you tell me where they were?”

“Because I think you’re slightly insane.” He puts his hands up in front of him in surrender when you turn around to face him, knife in hand.

“I’m not insane. I’m being…prepared.” You close the drawer and move back towards the kitchen door, peaking out into the hallway through the circular window. You don’t see any movement.

You aren’t sure where to keep this knife if you finally managed to get your hands on, looking around the kitchen for something to use.

“Here, just use this.” Hoseok sighs, handing you a long leather string. “Wrap it around your thigh, that's what all the female warriors do.”

Looking at Hobi inquisitively, wondering how he could possibly know that bot of information, you take the string from his hand and wrap it around your thigh until you can tie it. You’re able to secure the knife between the leather well enough for now.

“Do you even know how to kill a vampire, ____? Is a knife even going to work?” Hoseok crosses his arms over his chest as he looks at you.

“Father told me once that you have to remove their heads.” You don’t look at him, just continue looking into the hallway.

“And a kitchen knife is going to remove a vampire's head!? I’m going to pretend you didn’t get that from me if anyone asks.” Hoseok motions towards your knife with his head before he goes back to cleaning up the mess you had left in your wake.

“I’m going to go look around some more. I’ll come find you later.” You look at him now, as he picks things up off the floor.

“Please don’t.” He teases, crossing the small kitchen to stand in front of you. “Be careful roaming around this castle.”

“I’ll be fine, Hobi.” You wrap an arm around him and he does the same to you, giving each other a much needed hug. He kisses the top of your head before he lets you go.

“Go on then, Blood Queen. I’ll bring you your breakfast in the morning.” He shoos you away.

“Do not call me that.” You glare at your friend. “Eggs and lots of coffee?”

“As you wish.” He rolls his eyes again and you can’t help but smile.

Pushing open the swinging door, you carefully step out into the hallway, keeping your back pressed to the wall as you follow it through the castle.

There isn’t much to see. Some extra bedrooms, one room that looked like a study and one door that had led to a small patio. You mentally mapped that door in your head and hoped you could remember it well enough to write down when you got back to your rooms.

As you approached the end of the hallway you began to hear voices. You knew you should turn around but your curiosity was too much to battle with. So instead, you made your way to the double doors that had been left slightly ajar.

Inside, the room was full of vampires seated at a very long table. Jungkook is sitting at the head of it, his fingers adorned by silver rings, stroking his chin with worry. You aren’t sure how you know that he’s worried, but you just know. Namjoon paces the floor behind him, babbling to no one in particular it seemed. Yoongi, who is sitting to his right, still appears to be his quiet and stoic self. Not much different to how you saw him for the first time.

There are several others present around the table that you do not recognize. But the real question is why are they here instead of attending the wedding reception?

“Is this a threat we need to be prepared for sooner rather than later?” You finally hear Yoongi say, his voice deep and rumbly.

“We knew taking on the human kingdom was going to cause issues with Taehyung. Because not only did you agree to help them, you married the fucking princess.” Namjoon says, distaste thick in his voice.

“They required protection. This was how we gave them that.” Jungkook doesn’t bother looking up, he merely sits back in his chair and crosses his legs.

“At what cost? Why are we paying for their ignorance?” Namjoon continues to pace the floor behind Jungkook's chair.

It surprises you how Jungkook continues to defend your kingdom when he clearly did not have much reason to. It isn’t as if you had married him on happy terms. The only thing he is really getting out of this arrangement is land, and it isn’t like there is much of it to give in the first place. You’ve been so angry that you really had never taken the time to consider that.

“Excuse me for a moment.” Jungkook says, abruptly standing up from his chair.

You feel panic rise up as you notice that he’s heading towards the door that you’re still standing in front of. You look around the hall frantically, seeing a large statue in the corner to your left.

You dash towards it, trying to keep the sound of your bare feet padding across the marble floor as quiet as possible. You hear the door creak open all the way as you fling yourself behind the statue, flopping against the ground with a thud.

“Shit. Shit that hurts.” You whisper, trying to right yourself into a sitting position.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have the mouth of a sailor?” Jungkook is suddenly standing above you, making you jump with fright, banging your head against the statue that had apparently done nothing to hide you from him.

“Has anyone ever told you that it’s rude to just appear out of nowhere like a damn ghost?” You rub the back of your head and manage to get to your feet to stand in front of him. Jungkook scoffs, trying to hold back a laugh.

“What in the world have you done to your dress?” He asks, reaching towards your torn up skirt. Before he can touch them you slap his hand away, making your hand sting at the contact.

“I had a moment. Not that it’s any of your business.” You attempt to smooth out what’s left of the skirts at your waist.

“You look like a swamp witch.” Jungkook can’t help the smile that graces his face and you want to slap it away for being so beautiful.

“I do not!” You shove past him, stomping back down the hallway where you had come from.

“Would you please stop for a moment?” Jungkook calls after you.

“I will not.” You refuse to give him any further satisfaction. He does not seem to take the hint, his footsteps following after you.

You’ve had enough of him for one night. You reach into the band you had made and wrapped around your thigh to hold onto the kitchen knife you had gotten from the kitchen, spinning around and pointing the sharp end of the blade right at Jungkook’s throat, making him stop in his tracks in front of you.

“Where did you get a knife?” Jungkook dares to ask, an eyebrow raised in question.

“That is also none of your business.” You move the knife so close to his throat that the slightest movement could make you cut him.

“Were you keeping that knife strapped to your thigh?” Jungkook's voice lowers as he slowly raises his hands in surrender. You choose not to answer him, only stiffening your stance. “Incredibly violent…” Jungkook smiles and his fangs extend slightly, making you feel bewildered at his reaction.

“Why are you smiling?” You poke the tip of the knife against his skin.

“Because I like that you’re beautifully murderous.” Jungkook is suddenly out of your sight, making you whirl around to find him, only to be pressed roughly against the wall, the hand holding the knife anchored above your head.

“Get off of me!” You move to knee him in the groin but he’s too fast. Inhumanly fast.

“I want you to be a part of this, you know. I want you to help us help your people.” His grip tightens slightly the more you move around.

“Why?” You seethe.

“Because you’re the queen. My partner in this life. Why is that so hard for you to understand?” The look on his face is so sincere that it makes you halt your movements.

“Jungkook…this is not a real marriage. Why are you so convinced that it is?” With one last push, he releases you and takes a step back.

“I’ll spend the rest of my days trying to make you see that it is.” Jungkook tells you with a quiet sigh. “But for the time being, please just come inside and listen to what we’re speaking about. You should be a part of it too.”

You feel the tiniest sliver of hatred melt away from your heart. It makes your chest feel lighter, like you can breathe a little easier. You don’t understand it. You don’t understand him. But you can’t deny that you want to know what’s going on in that meeting room.

“Fine. Let’s go.” You rip your eyes away from his face before it becomes too noticeable that you were looking at him at all.

“Do you perhaps want to change first?” Jungkook asks. “The dress has become rather revealing.”

You glare at him before propping your foot up against the wall, exposing your bare leg to him. You slide the kitchen knife back into the homemade holster on your thigh, adjusting it slightly and letting your foot slip back to the ground as you keep direct eye contact with the vampire king.

“No. I think I’ll attend the meeting just as I am.” You can’t help but smirk a little, pointing your nose to the ceiling before making your way into the meeting room. Jungkook laughs quietly in disbelief, but follows you inside.

All the eyes in the room are suddenly on you. One of the men sitting at the table visibly chokes on air as he watches you walk into the room and takes in your appearance.

“I suggest you get yourself together, Seokjin.” Jungkook walks ahead of you to pull out the chair to the left of his for you.

“Apologies, your highness.” The man named Seokjin splutters slightly, then straightens in his chair.

“Were you attacked, my lady?” Yoongi says, his voice low but still holding a bit of concern.

“No…I was…it's nothing. Don’t let my clothing distract you from the discussion.” You move around the table, choosing to ignore the chair Jungkook has pulled out for you, but instead decide to move to his chair at the head of the table and sit down there. “Shall we?” You ask, a smug look on your face.

“Incredible.” You hear Jungkook mumble under his breath, only meaning for you to hear it, but obviously all the other vampire ears in the room do as well, making everyone shift uncomfortably in their seats.

“Does the queen need to be present?” Namjoon remarks from the seat next to Yoongi.

“Yes, she does. And I won’t hear another thing about it.” Jungkook makes his point clear and moves to sit in the chair he had originally pulled out for you.

“Fine then. We need to start preparing for a war with Taehyung. And we also need to consider that in order to avoid it, we should give up the human kingdom. We don’t need it.” Namjoon is very monotone as he speaks about giving up your kingdom to an apparent enemy.

“Absolutely not.” You say without thought.

“No disrespect, your highness, but I was speaking to the king.” Namjoon dismisses you and you can feel anger start to bubble beneath your skin.

“You say that you mean no disrespect, but you’re sitting there suggesting that we turn over my kingdom, full of innocent people, to your enemy.” You lean forward in your seat, eyebrows scrunched in confusion as you look at the king's advisor.

“I’m not sure you understand the ramifications of going to war with Taehyung, your majesty. He is not to be underestimated.” Namjoon leans forward as well, meeting your gaze with a challenge in his eyes.

“Perhaps someone could explain to me who Taehyung is, and how he has become such a threat to the most powerful kingdom in this realm?” You don’t let your gaze fall from Namjoon’s, challenging him right back.

“If you two are finished with your vicious little disagreement you’ve got going, I would be honored to get the queen up to speed on the situation.” Seokjin says from a few chairs down. His voice makes you look away from Namjoon with a scowl on your face.

“Please. Tell me what you know.” You give Seokjin your attention, ignoring the mumbled curses Namjoon says under his breath.

“Taehyung is the king of the werewolf kingdom to our west, your highness. And I…well I know more than most about werewolves as I myself am one of them.” Seokjin looks up at you then, a golden glow flashing across his eyes when they meet yours.

“I’m confused. If you’re one of them, what are you doing here?” Your curiosity is peaked at this very unexpected bit of information.

“Well you see, my lady, I owe my life to your king. Many, many years ago he had mercy on me and I have pledged my loyalty to him until my dying day.” A smile plays at the corner of Seokjin’s mouth as he looks from you to Jungkook, who also shares the same smile of fondness on his face.

“He saved your life?” You ask, enthralled by this story. A vampire saving the life of a werewolf is unheard of, the two of them becoming friends is even more unheard of.

“He did. And now he has me at his side, even if he wishes I wasn’t at times.” He laughs a little and Jungkook’s smile grows wider.

“You’re too humble sometimes, hyung.” Jungkook says, sharing one last fond smile with Seokjin before he looks back at you. “Seokjin is vital to the way this kingdom is able to live and operate on a daily basis. Don’t let him talk lowly of himself.”

You wish their story wasn’t so endearing. That you didn’t feel a pang of something in your heart for the fondness they share for each other. But no matter how hard you try to bite back your smile, it betrays you, pulling your lips up slightly.

“I am happy to meet you, Seokjin.” You say, sharing one more look with him before the moment is interrupted.

“Could we get back to the point?” Namjoon says, obviously annoyed by the friendly conversation. Why was he so frumpy?

“Of course. My apologies.” Seokjin sits back in his chair with a small bow of his head.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a sour puss?” You say to Namjoon, almost causing Yoongi to choke on a laugh.

“My lady, this is not a joke. If you’re insistent on being involved, I beg you to take this seriously.” If Namjoon could blush, you suppose he would be at this point.

“I’m listening.” You roll your eyes a bit and turn to Jungkook, who is watching you with a smirk on his face.

“Taehyung isn’t happy about this…union. He believes your land should be his and we are almost positive he isn’t going to sit back and let it go.” Yoongi takes the initiative to explain this time.

“And for now, as I’ve said before, we double the guard at the border but we don’t engage. I’m not starting a war without reason.” Jungkook speaks now, everybody forwarding their attention to him. “And perhaps we need to set up a meeting with Taehyung.”

“A meeting? What do you hope to come of that, your majesty?” Namjoon looks with disbelief on his face.

“I’m avoiding a war at all costs. I won’t bring unnecessary danger to either of the kingdoms.” Jungkook stands up. “And this discussion is over for now. I’m sure the queen would like to sleep.” You nod, quickly being able to tell that Jungkook is done talking for tonight.

You stand from the table, bowing to the others who stand at the same time as you do to bow deeper in your direction. Jungkook motions for you to walk ahead of him with his hand as you take one last look over your shoulder at the men sitting at the table. More monsters than men…but it was easy to forget such a thing.

“I’m glad you joined us.” Jungkook's voice startles you from your thinking.

“Yes well…I won’t let anything happen to my people. We can’t just throw them to the wolves.” You hope he detects the seriousness in your voice.

“I hope that you can see that isn’t my intention. It never was.” Jungkook walks next to you, his arms crossed behind his back.

“As long as that is clear.” You reach the bottom of the stairs that lead up to your separate bed chambers, stopping on the bottom step and turn to look at Jungkook.

“Loud and clear, my queen.” Jungkook steps up closer and you almost trip over the step trying to create space. “Where is the knife now?”

“It will be in your chest if you do not step away from me.” You growl through your teeth, making Jungkook grin wickedly, fangs appearing under his lip.

“Beautiful and violent. Where have you been all my life, darling?” Jungkook steps up onto the stairs, making you stumble up a few more to get distance.

“You’re some kind of masochist, aren’t you?” You put your hand down onto the handle of the knife. Jungkook throws his head back in laughter. The sound is…certainly not what you expected. He seems so human as he laughs and tries to compose himself.

“Would you like to find out?” He takes one more step up towards you and you’ve had enough.

You lift your bare foot from the wooden stair and press it into the middle of his chest as he stands two steps down from you. You watch Jungkook's eyes as they take in what is happening, roaming over the exposed skin of your legs and thigh.

“Stop flirting with me.” You push slightly against his chest with your foot. “It’s very annoying.”

“Your heart is beating so quick, I’m not sure that you mean that.” Jungkook says in a low tone. The sound of his deep voice tries to pry its way between your thighs, but you won’t let it. “I think you rather like it, actually.”

“You’re not amusing, your highness.” You try to remain unfazed.

“You can’t lie to me. I can hear the blood rushing through your veins…and your breath struggling to even out.” Jungkook tries to take a step up but you push him back down with your foot.

“You’re delusional. Whatever you are hearing is simply because I am fending off a vampire, not because I find that vampire to be maddeningly beautiful.” You wish you had said that differently…surely he will know you’re lying now.

“Why do you fight it?” He questions.

“Fight what?”

“The attraction between us.”

“Because there isn’t any. None. It is nonexistent.” You shove your foot into his chest once more but he doesn’t budge of course.

“Liar.” Jungkook says quietly, you can feel his breath on the skin of your leg. His cool fingers come up to ghost over the skin of your ankle, allowing goosebumps to find home on your skin as your body betrays you even more. “Shall we test your theory?” Fingers continue their featherlight touch up your calf.

“You’re…it’s not affecting me at all.” Your voice shakes slightly as you fight to keep your eyes open.

“More lies, my queen.” When his fingers get to the inside of your thigh, your brain suddenly remembers what’s happening. You kick him in the chest with more force and Jungkook stumbles slightly, giving you a chance to jog up a few more stairs before you speak to him again.

“No more of your unrequited flirting. And especially touching. None of that.” You yell down to him, wishing you could smack the grin on his face.

“As you wish.” He bows to you.

“Goodnight, your highness.” You pull the knife out of your holster and point it towards him as you back your way up the rest of the stairs, making Jungkook laugh out loud again. You don’t look back this time as you dash your way down the hall to your bed chambers where the two guards are still standing. “I’ll be going to bed now.” You huff past them and into the room as quickly as possible.

You press your back against the cool wood of the door, trying to catch the breath you had not realized were holding . He was absolutely infuriating. Ridiculous. Egotistical. And yet… soft and endearing at times. Like when he was speaking to or about Seokjin. It is something you never expected to see.

Looking down at your hand, you see the wedding ring he had given you just a few short hours ago. Shaped like a drop of blood and every bit the color of it. You had forgotten all about it and now you aren’t sure you wanted to take it off. You and this ring have been through a lot already.

Finally, you bring yourself to move towards one of the tall armoires on the other side of the room. Perhaps it’s time to finally change out of your tattered wedding dress.

You look through some drawers until you finally find some silky night shorts and matching camisole. It seems revealing for pajamas, but you also don’t have the energy to keep digging for something else.

With a sigh, you head into the bathroom and make a beeline for that glorious claw foot tub in the corner of the room. You look around and notice the gold crusted faucets at one end of the tub.

Running water. The vampire kingdom had running water for baths. This was not a luxury that you had back in your human kingdom.

“Something decent has come from this.” You mumble to yourself as you turn on the faucets and watch the crystal clear water start to fill the basin of the tub. You grab one of the first glass bottles of soap that you can reach, breathing in its scent and finding it to be lavender. A scent you missed about the gardens in your father’s kingdom. You pour a plentiful amount into the stream of water and watch the bubbles begin to form and you can’t help but smile.

Stripping out of what’s left of your wedding dress, you toss it away and carefully step into the tub. The water is so warm already, instantly loosening your tired muscles and cleanssng your dirty skin. It felt like heaven.

Once the tub has filled you turn off the faucets and sink down into it. You let your head dip beneath the bubbles, letting it washclean your hair and , making it easier to pull the rest of the pins out of it.

It’s quiet in this washroom. Almost too quiet. So you decide not to dawdledauddle for too long, getting yourself cleaned up and grabbing a robe from one of the hanging hooks on the wall.

Making your way back into your bed chambers, you dress into the pajamas you had found earlier and climb into the bed. You feel alone all at once. Too alone with your thoughts.

How would your life play out now that you’re here? Married. To the king of vampires. Jungkook. The blood king.

You want to know more. Need to know more about him and this place.

In order for you to do that, you have to change your sleeping schedule. You need to be awake at night when everyone else is awake.

It took some time for you to get used to but after a couple of weeks you are able to get up and join the vampires during their meetings regarding Taehyung.

You are also able to explore the castle and its grounds more thoroughly. Finding it full of vast libraries and art from different centuries…different worlds it seemed.

Most recently though, you had discovered the gardens. Gardens that had been somewhat neglected by visitors if you were being honest. They were clean and well kept, but they were mostly empty. Not many flowers and things to fill all the spaces in between the manicured bushes and small trees. You wondered if it was because no one could come out during the day to care for them. And the more you thought about it, the sillier it seemed.

You love walking around outside nonetheless. Sitting on the stone benches and watching the fountains. But your urge to do more is constantly bouncing around in your mind.

Tonight, you find yourself changing into a pair of leggings and an oversized sweater. You had decided you were going to start digging around in the gardens, whether it is something a queen should do or not, you didn’t care. It would busy your mind and give you something productive to do.

“Where are you off to?” Hoseok calls behind you as you make your way to the back doors.

“To the gardens. I think I’m going to start digging around. Maybe plant some new things.” You turn to see the bright smile on his face. One of the few bright things here.

“There are groundskeepers for that, you know?” Hoseok teases as he approaches you, taking in your very unqueenly outfit.

“I am aware, Hobi. But I’m bored and I need to find something to occupy my time.” You wave him off with a sigh.

“Do you know where the gardening equipment is?” Hoseok asks, hands moving to his hips as he looks at you expectantly.

“Well…no. But I assume that you do?”

“Perhaps. What’s in it for me?” He continues to tease.

“I’m the queen, you have to tell me if I ask.” Your arms cross over your chest.

“Oh now you want to be the queen? Only when it benefits you, I see.”

“Come on, Hoseok, pleeeeease?” You’re growing tired of his antics.

“Let me use your bathtub twice a week, and I’ll tell you where it is.” He puts his hand out for you to shake.

“As if I would deny you that bathtub.” You laugh a little and shake his hand. “Come on then, to the gardening tools.” You jump onto his back as he turns around to lead the way, making him carry you.

“I don’t remember carrying your spoiled ass around being in my new job description.” Hobi laughs, adjusting you on his back so he can walk with more balance.

“It’s in your best friend job description, check your paperwork.” You place your chin on his shoulder and squeeze your legs tighter around his middle.

“Ridiculous.” He laughs louder, making his way towards the back doors to show you where to find the gardening tools.

Hoseok takes you to a small building outside the castle, inside of which are plenty of gardening tools for you to get started with your plans. He doesn’t stick around though, making his way back to the castle to finally get some sleep. Hobi is having a harder time adjusting to the new sleep schedule than you had.

With your arms full of shovels, rakes, and other tools you may or may not need, you find an area near the fountains that you plan to start with. The dirt in this area seems a bit dry and sad looking, so you think if you dig into the soil, you’ll be able to bring the good dirt to the top.

You spend a few hours tilling the soil and sure enough, it already looks so much better than it did before. And even though autumn is in full swing and you’re working by the light from the moon, you’re still a bit sweaty.

“I think digging your way out of here may be a bigger task than you bargained for.” A now familiar voice says from behind you, making you jump at the sudden sound.

“Will I have to live out the rest of my days here wondering when the next time you’ll give me a heart attack will be?” You place your hand over your hammering heart while Jungkook smiles.

“Apologies, my queen.” Jungkook walks closest to where you’re kneeling on the ground, his hands behind his back. “What is it that you’re doing exactly?”

“I’m gardening. Is that not obvious?” You sit the small shovel down and wipe your hands off on your thighs.

“Yes. But why?” He asks curiously.

“Something to do? A hobby? I’m tired of wandering around this castle like a ghost.” You look up at him when he comes to stand next to you. “Is that something I’m allowed to do, your highness?”

“You’re rather snarky for a queen.” Jungkook smiles again, the sharp points of his fangs showing behind his lips.

“I have been called much worse.” You huff, standing up from the ground, wobbling slightly from being in that position a bit too long.

Jungkook is inhumanly fast, gently steadying you on your feet. One hand on your hip and the other on your shoulder. His skin is so cold it sends a shiver through you, goosebumps covering your warm skin.

“So long as you’re here, no one will dare to call you anything less than you deserve.” His eyes are almost black as they meet yours. “Are you okay to stand?”

You shake away the trance you feel when you look at him, stepping back slightly and out of his hold.

“Yes, I’m fine.” You awkwardly stumble over the shovel on the ground, righting yourself before Jungkook has a chance to try and help you again. “Thank you.”

“Shall I help you with this?” He asks, bending to pick up one of the rakes.

“Oh…that’s not necessary, I can manage.”

“I’m well aware that you can manage. But would you like some help…and some company?”Jungkook almost looks shy as he asks. “I think it would be good for us to spend more time together.”

You aren’t sure what to say. Part of you despises the thought of spending time with him. But a bigger part tells you that you long to know him more. To hear his infuriating tone when he teases you.

“Fine. But you start over there, and don’t crowd me.” You point towards an area a few feet from the one you had been working on. Jungkook laughs quietly.

“As you wish, my queen.” He bows at the waist and makes his way over.

“I’ve asked you several times to stop calling me that.” You sigh, pushing some hair away from your face before you continue tilling the soil.

“Why does it bother you so much?” Jungkook gets down to his knees, the brown slacks he is wearing meeting the dirt.

“I am not a vampire, Jungkook. Being the Blood Queen seems like I’m pretending to be something that I’m not.” It bothers you. All those vows that you took about protecting each other are just lies.

“You don’t need to be a vampire to be the queen here. No matter what you hear or what you think, you only need to try and understand.” Jungkook’s quick hands are making much faster work of things than yours ever could.

“Understand what?” You ask.

“Will you let me show you some time? It will be much easier to show than to try and explain it in so many words.”

You don’t understand what he means, but the look on his face tells you that he’s sincere in what he says. And even though you should probably say no, you’re too curious not to indulge him.

“Okay.” You simply state. Jungkook smiles softly and continues his digging.

Another week passes, and Jungkook joins you out in the gardens every night. He brings you new tools to use and lists from the florists in the kingdom so that you can pick out flowers to plant wherever you please. You choose as many as you can find that grow at night, because though they carry all the usual things that flourish in the day time, you know you won’t get to enjoy them as much as you will the ones who bloom at night.

You spend hours in the many libraries within the castle researching the plants and what they need to live well at night. Jungkook joins you there often, following you through the stacks of books and listening to you babble on and on about the flowers.

As much as you wish you didn't enjoy his company, as much as you don’t want to be fond of the sound of his voice, you are very much beginning to.

“_____?” Jungkook says quietly, closing the book that you’re holding in your hands. He doesn’t call you by your first name often, it’s a strange feeling that follows it.

“What is it?” You slide the book back onto the shelf in front of you, turning your attention to him.

“Would you please do me the honor of accompanying me into the kingdom tomorrow night?” His hands are behind his back as he speaks, stepping closer to where you’re standing.

“May I ask why?” You try to pretend his close proximity does not affect you. Jungkook is still a vampire after all.

“I told you I would help you to understand why being human does not mean you cannot be the queen here.” Jungkook brings a hand from behind his back and reaches out gently, brushing your fingertips with his.

“What are you going to show me, Jungkook?” You slowly pull your hand back from his touch, making him smirk at your stubbornness.

“Everything, darling.”

#jungkook #vampire jungkook #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #bts fic #bts smut #btscarnivalnet #btscreatorscorner #bangtaninn #bangtansorciere #btshoneyhive #52hertz #btswritersclub #btsdreamcourt #bangtanarmynet #clubzerooclock #btswritingcafe

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bakerstreethound · 4 months

Text

To Another Year

Relationship: Sherlock x lestrade!sibling reader

Warnings: mentions of fireworks, alcohol, Molly makes the briefest appearance, slight hints of jealousy, and Sherlock is a little grumpy

Summary: When the party for the new year begins at 221B, you reflect upon your year and the many blessings it's given you - that one of a new family, both blood and chosen.

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

Word Count: 1.09k+

A/N: Happy 2024 everyone! Let's hope it's a good one. University has had me in a whirlwind this past semester and up to this winter course I'm on the tail end of. I hope to continue writing and posting more stories about our beloved detective. I know this is a few days, almost a week short of the new year, but it is Sherlock's birthday, so this works as a two-for-one gift. I sincerely hope you enjoy it. As always comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated. Huge shoutout to @strangelockd for beta reading and helping with the title! Graphic by @firefly-graphics

Mrs. Hudson rushed into the room, a bottle of champagne in one hand, the other holding a tray of sweets balanced precariously on the platter. You smiled, making your way over to help before John shoved you aside, taking the platter from her in stride.

“Let me get that for you, Mrs. Hudson, ah yes these look swell!” John grinned, and you rolled your eyes, joining him as he popped a brownie in his mouth.

You chuckled, biting into one as well, letting the warmth coat your tongue and suddenly you felt like a child again. “Oh, Mrs. Hudson you’ve outdone yourself truly. These are fantastic!”

She chuckled while pulling out the glasses, clearing the table in the kitchen from the remnants of Sherlock’s experiments you’d cleared away, but somehow mysteriously popped up again.

You groaned in exasperation. You couldn’t remember the last time the kitchen, or the table for that matter had been clear of experiments or Sherlock’s current fixations.

“Say, where is Sherlock?” John asked, taking another brownie from the tray.

You shrugged, taking a sip from the champagne Mrs. Hudson handed you. “I haven’t the faintest idea. If he had any plans he didn't tell me.”

“Since when does he ever have plans other than dragging us along on cases?” John nudged you playfully and you sighed.

“Sherlock always likes to go off and run around without regard to us,” Mrs. Hudson pipped in, taking a sip from her glass.” But that doesn’t mean we can’t have fun without him. Surely he’s bound to show up.”

“Oh, I’m sure he will, he’s been on a few holiday cases up in Cardiff, from what Greg has told me,” you smiled. Speaking of the devil your phone buzzed and you moved with John and Mrs. Hudson to the living room where you promptly seated yourself in Sherlock’s chair, John following suit in his own while Mrs. Hudson sat on the couch you’d pulled closer to the chairs.

You pulled open the text from your brother, your smile widening. Greg’s message was a selfie of him hauling a grocery bag, likely offerings for the party accompanied by an “on my way!” and a profuse apology for being late as Scotland Yard refused to close at a decent hour.

Well, a decent hour for Greg would be five, so he could sleep earlier and be to work at an even earlier time. Between the both of you, you’re more the night owl.

You take another sip of your drink, watching as John set up festive music on the telly, and opening the curtains where you were met with a rich dark sky littered with stars, the moon glowing softly. You admire the sight and you can’t imagine anything better than this or anywhere you’d rather be.

Your phone buzzed again, met with another text from Greg. Make sure to keep Sherlock in line.

Thanks, Greg, you think. If you had any idea where he was you would be sure to do so as he was your significant other. Yet communication on large cases tended to hinder his whereabouts.

Pretty sure John will do a fine job once we find out where the hell Sherlock went, you shot back.

“What’s this Grantham wants?” Sherlock burst through the door in all his glory, his beautiful Belstaff billowing around him as he fiddled with his phone. Joh chuckled, rolling his eyes at the absurdity and you huffed in amusement.

“Wonderful to see you too my dear. Welcome home!” You rise to greet Sherlock but he’s over next to you in an instant pulling you in for a hug.

You fall into him, sure that Mrs. Hudson is giggling in a corner sending a meaningful look to John. You don’t care in the slightest, not anymore. Sherlock was always yours and you are his, despite the doubts you had from time to time through the years.

“Oi, come on you two lovebirds is this a party or what?” Greg beamed, patting John on the shoulder, raising a glass to Mrs. Hudson. It didn’t take him long to find the drinks, you chuckled to yourself, pecking Sherlock’s cheek. “Also, my brother's name is not Grantham. You should know this by now.”

“Smart girl that one is,” Greg said, “yet she gets herself involved with the likes of Sherlock. I’ll never understand it. The Lestrades like danger over stability it seems.”

“Oh knock it off you all,” Mrs. Hudson admonished. “At least take a few more drinks and at least eat. I bet you all haven’t eaten since lunch, and likely skipped breakfast as well.”

You cast her a look, for she knew you all too well. “Of course, Mrs. Hudson,” you pulled yourself from Sherlock’s embrace even though it was agony to do so, your mind screaming for you to pull yourself up against him and drown in his kisses and warmth.

You quickly give your brother a hug and Greg grinned good-naturedly as you squeezed him tight. It’d been weeks since you’d seen him given the business of the holidays.

It was nice to finally settle down without the impeding stress of work and other responsibilities, relinquishing yourself to the relaxation amongst friends and family. It was why you cherished moments such as these and when you hugged Sherlock again, ruffling his curls, as he grumped, but you knew deep down he enjoyed it.

******

Soon enough you’re all full of champagne, a filling meal, and in generally good spirits. Molly made a chance to stop by, too, and you pulled her into a warm embrace. She blushed in the dim light, not expecting it from you. You couldn’t blame her for having a crush on Sherlock all those years, but your mutual jealousy between you had faded with time and you’d come to enjoy her company.

You hand her a glass, eyes shining in mirth and at that moment you know you’ll be alright. With your found family and kin in the room, all felt right.

Perhaps the year would be a good one after all.

You found Sherlock in his chair observing the quieter atmosphere as everyone settled, talking quietly. You noted the way his fingers tapped on the chair impatiently and you carefully situated yourself in his lap, setting your half-empty glass on the side table.

From the window, fireworks light the sky in all their glory and soft cheers ring through 221B. You brush your lips against Sherlock’s, and he welcomes you into the dawn of what hopefully will be one of the best years in your memory.

******

#sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock x you #sherlock holmes fanfiction #happy new year 2024 #bbc sherlock #benedict cuimberbatch #my writing #my alleyway

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beyondthesefourwalls · 11 months

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Before he had to remember you, Bradley got to experience the whirlwind that was meeting and falling in love with you (the first time).

All stories can be read independently, but will precede or coincide with the series Remember You Even When I Don't.

And You Will Find Me: The last thing Bradley expected when he was assigned to the unofficial “singles without a plus one” table at an old friend’s wedding was to meet who he thinks might just be the love of his life. But that’s exactly what happened.

Marvelous Night for a Moondance: A date night at a concert in the park has you and Bradley adventuring in ways you hadn’t with each other yet. You had only been dating for a few short months, but he made you feel things you never had before, and it was almost scary how easy it was to picture yourself staying in his arms forever.

Wildflowers & Wine: He hadn’t seen you coming, but you entered his life like you had always been there, in a burnt orange dress and high heels and champagne sipped away from the rest of the world. Bradley fell in love with you that first night and now he can’t imagine his life without you. He couldn’t bring himself to care that it had only been four months. For roosterforme's #love is in the air tgm Writing Challenge!

Home (Is Wherever I'm With You): You aren’t supposed to be in California for another week, but managed to tie up all your loose ends and arrive early. You get some unwanted attention when you try to surprise your husband at his favorite bar, and after he comes to your rescue, Bradley shows you just how much he missed you right there in the Hard Deck bathroom.

Something Worth Remembering: You were hopeful that you’d be moved into your new house before Christmas, but after another renovation delay, that’s not in the cards. To your credit, you make the most of the situation, and Bradley falls in love with you even more because of it. But he’s determined to make your first Christmas together special, and sets out to plan a surprise that ensures the holiday will be one both of you will always remember.

For Better or Worse: Getting the phone call that your husband was involved in a training accident was something you had never prepared yourself for, and something that you never wanted to experience again. You felt like your entire world crashed down around you and the only thing that would pick up the pieces would be Bradley opening his eyes. But then he does, and everything starts to turn out worse than you ever thought it could.

Return Back Home to You: Five months after the accident that took his memory from him, Bradley gets the all clear to return to the sky. He thought he would be ecstatic to get back in the air, but all he can think about is how the last time he was in a plane, he almost didn’t come home to you. When he tells you he can’t handle doing that to you again, you remind him that all you need from him is to love you and do his best to always come home, and you’d figure out the rest together.

Motivation Tactics: You’re having a hard time finding the motivation to finish a work assignment with an upcoming deadline. While you're on a conference call, Bradley decides to help you release some of the frustration and tension you’re feeling. His knees may not thank him later, but you sure will.

Blurb: Bradley hits his head a year after his accident

*Ongoing collection - requests open! *

Main Masterlist

Banner by the one and only @mak-32 🧡

*I do not give permission to copy/steal, translate, or publish elsewhere*

#remember you even when i don’t #bradley bradshaw: forgetful boy #the forgotten moments #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #alli writes #top gun fanfiction #tgm fanfiction

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littlemisspascal · 7 months

Text

Bitter Ends Turn Sweet in Time

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Female Reader

Word Count: 7k+

Summary: There’s not a single day in a whole year that isn’t bookmarked by a memory of him. And you, you remember all of them.

Rating: T

Warnings: Pokémon au (but not 100% true to canon, just elements + some characters), time skips in non-linear manner, fluff, angst, bittersweet ending, storms, language, Reader and Frankie are same age + grow up together, high school au ish(?), inspired by 500 Days of Summer + Song of Achilles' 'name one hero who was happy' scene + this quote by photographer David Alan Harvey:

"Don't shoot what it looks like. Shoot what it feels like."

- Reader has no official name and no physical traits described in detail. However, she is mentioned to have hair, a career, wear a dress (no description), and eat sandwiches

Author Note: I've been wanting to write a Pokémon au for a long, long, long time and I've also been wanting to write a non-linear fic for a long, long, long time as well so this is the result of both those wants combining forces *awkwardly throws it into the universe* It is what it is.

-- all moodboard photos found on pinterest

-- shinx, luxio, luxray // pikachu photo references

Special thanks to @beecastle for beta reading and encouraging me through my breakdowns 💜

Day 1,695

Luxray’s a silent wall of black and blue fur for your body to brace against as the sky bleeds a deep shade of orange, and you know he knows. Doesn’t even have to use his x-ray vision to confirm what’s etched into every line of your expression. Anguish—when it’s real and unbearable and deeply-rooted—is impossible to hide. Everyone who looks at you will know.

Everyone except the one pair of brown eyes that’ll never look your way again.

“I’m such an idiot,” you say quietly, and it’s embarrassing how thick the lump of emotion is lodged in your throat. You wipe at your nose with your sleeve. “So damn stupid.”

Luxray lets out a low growl, chiding in nature, as if to say don’t talk shit about yourself.

“He was never going to stay,” you continue, ignoring the vibration rattling your bones. “But I got my hopes up anyways. What we’ve accomplished these last few weeks together, I thought there was a chance…a slim one, you know? That maybe–maybe we could actually stick together this time.”

And you don’t realize you’re crying until Luxray’s twisting his head to nuzzle against your temple, encouraging you to bury your face into the thick fur along his chest and shoulders. With your eyes squeezed shut, you can almost block out the all-encompassing numbness emanating from the cavity your heart used to reside in.

“He’s gone…” you choke out through sobs, grabbing fistfuls of Luxray’s inky black mane. “And I think it’s permanent this time.”

Day 1

The first day of classes at Uva Academy is a whirlwind of meeting teachers, racing from one floor to the next against the clock, and making sure you never lose track of Shinx in the chaos of it all, but when the last bell finally rings, you feel no sting of regret about coming here.

You split a sandwich with Shinx underneath a tree in the school courtyard, brain buzzing with the overload of information absorbed throughout the day. Maybe signing up for a full schedule of classes was a bit excessive, but unlike most of your fellow students who have some semblance of a plan for their futures your next steps are plagued with uncertainty. There are so many paths one can take with their Pokémon—the course of a Trainer, a Coordinator, a Professor, a Ranger, the list goes on and on—you don’t know which direction to take.

When you lock eyes with a boy with brown eyes across the yard, there’s nothing special about the moment. No sparks, no forgetting how to breathe. He’s just a boy with a Pikachu on his shoulder and a dimpled grin on his face.

“I saw you in Mr. Jacq’s class,” he says in lieu of a greeting when he draws closer, purple Academy tie loose and crooked around his neck. Recognition stirs in the back of your mind, a flash of dark brown curls towards the back of the room spotted before taking your seat at the front.

Actually, now that you think about it…

“Weren’t you in Ms. Dendra’s class too?” you wonder, passing the last bite of sandwich to Shinx, his little body wiggling eagerly. “And Ms. Raifort’s…?”

“Yeah, I, uh, I don’t really know what I want to do yet.” He scuffs at the ground with his shoe, grin turning a bit crooked at the corner, strangely endearing in its awkwardness. “I figure life’s short, you know? Why not try as many things as you can when you have the chance?”

“Right,” you agree, finding yourself smiling back. “Nothing wrong with making memories.”

"I'm Frankie, by the way."

“Nice to meet you Frankie,” you say, shaking his hand. It’s warm in your grip, firm and secure, thumb grazing over your knuckles. “Looks like we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

And so it starts after that—the counting of days. Days when you see him in class, when he smiles at you, when he does homework with you in the library, when he and Pikachu have a battle against you and Shinx–winner buys lunch. It’s a subconscious quirk you keep to yourself. Even after he’s gone, chasing after legends to the far corners of the earth, you still continue counting days.

Days when he crosses your mind. Days when you leave the door unlocked in case he stops by. Days when you swear you catch a whiff of his citrus shampoo on the pillowcase despite the impossibility of it.

There’s not a single day in a whole year that isn’t bookmarked by a memory of him. And you, you remember all of them.

Day 183

“I want my name in one of these books,” he tells you, Ms. Raifort’s assigned reading on the lost explorers of Area Zero spread out in front of him.

You look up from the text, fatalities and disaster and other sharp words with teeth still swimming in your head. “It won’t be easy.”

You’ve only known him six months—long enough to be certain you’ll never meet anyone else like him, but too short to realize the hidden depths of his stubborn ambition.

“No,” he agrees, mouth curling up at the corner, “but it’ll be one hell of a story.”

Day 8

The air is heavy with the sharp, pungent scent of ozone as thunder rumbles overhead. You take in the ominous black clouds, adjusting the hood of your yellow coat to better defend your hair against the pattering raindrops. Doesn’t do much to ward off the chill of the wind though.

Shinx is darting about the meadow in zigzagging lines, wet to the bone and having a blast. Pikachu follows at his heels, electricity sparking from the red circles of her cheeks before fizzling out harmlessly. If there’s any rules to this game they’re playing, you haven’t a clue. Still, their obvious excitement over the weather has you smiling despite the numbness of your toes in soggy shoes.

To your left, Frankie watches the pair of Pokémon nimbly leap over a puddle, studying their graceful movements. His dark hair is flattened against his head, curls beaten into submission, but there’s something in his eyes, a sort of wistfulness that snags your attention like a moth to a flame.

A bolt of lightning burns a gleaming white strip across the gloomy sky, halting Shinx and Pikachu’s play as they elicit squeaks of awe, but you can’t stop looking at Frankie. He’s grinning now, a wide and ecstatic thing with his head tipped back, rain streaming down his face.

“Amazing, isn’t it? Seeing one of nature’s tantrums,” he says, voice low and wonderstruck. “My mother always said it takes someone extra special to train those who can summon such raw, uncontrollable power on cue.”

You’ve never thought of yourself as someone unusual or remarkable. Looking at him though, soaked and shivering and absolutely beaming, you think if anyone’s extra special in this world it’s him.

Day 1,987

It’s a long time before you can look through photos of him without a wound violently tearing open in your chest. Longer still before you can hear his voice on the phone. He calls more often these days, mostly because you’re knee-deep in another mystery and only a little because he misses you, and that’s okay. You can smile at his jokes and it feels real. You can love him and know better than to be in love with him.

You stay busy. You photograph every inch of the nature park on Florio, even convince Professor Mirror to let you take the NEO-ONE to some of Lental’s other islands for further research. You spend hours clicking through photos on your computer, frowning at blurry ones, printing some out for the Professor to take a closer look at as well as a few for your own personal collection of albums.

Your coworker isn’t an intimidating figure by any means, but something about watching him study and scrutinize your pictures never fails to make your hands shake and feet shuffle. Even after all these months, practically living inside each other’s pockets at the Laboratory of Ecology and Natural Sciences (or L.E.N.S. as the Professor affectionately calls it), studying the Illumina phenomenon and all its effects, there’s a part of you still terrified it could all come crashing down.

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Professor Mirror tells you, glaring disapprovingly over the frames of his glasses. It’s not the first time you’ve heard that remark and it won’t be the last either.

“More analyzing the photos and less analyzing me please,” you reply, nodding your head at the small stack in his hands.

He grumbles under his breath, but resumes evaluating the latest shots of your walk along Blushing Beach. There are Wingulls performing loops in the air, an Exeggutor snoozing beneath a palm tree, the splashings of a pair of Corsola playing in the waves. Luxray looking at the contents of a tide pool. A Pikachu eating a fluffruit after you’d scared her by your loud gasp, mistaking her for another of her kind. You don’t mention that tidbit to your coworker though.

That should be the last one, except then Professor Mirror’s letting out a surprised little hum, holding up a photo you never intended anyone else to ever see. Not even the subject. Especially not the subject.

It’s from your sophomore year at Uva Academy. You would call the picture ugly, edges a bit hazy due to your unsteady hands, still learning the tips and tricks of photography, except it’s Frankie. And he’s looking at you behind the lens with a fondness so sweet it makes your teeth hurt, holding a newly evolved Luxio to his chest, with windswept curls your fingers will always long to tame.

You should’ve thrown it out a long time ago. The man in the photo isn’t the same man who will call you later tonight from half a world away just to ask how your day went and if you’re willing to admit you need his help with the Illumina project. But you’ve always been too sentimental for your own good, holding onto things until there are only scraps left, slipping through the gaps of your fingers.

At the very least, you shouldn’t have reorganized your albums so close to your work station.

After what feels like the longest stretch of silence of your life, Professor Mirror finally says, carefully neutral as if wary of provoking a negative reaction, “Someone special, I presume?”

“It’s complicated,” is all you offer in response, snatching the picture back and telling yourself the ache behind your ribcage is a side effect of a papercut.

Day 389

Uva Academy teaches you battle strategies, the effects of Berries and how to better understand your Pokémon amongst other vital lessons to prepare students for a career outside the ancient brick walls and dorm rooms.

It’s Frankie who teaches you how to find beauty in thunderstorms, how to enjoy each day like it’s your last, how to dream a little bit bigger, a little bit bolder—or maybe that’s something you teach each other.

On the weekends you head into the city center together, trying different eateries and watching fellow students challenge each other on the plaza battle court. Afterwards you’ll walk along the cobblestone streets side by side, sometimes discussing classwork or pointing out items in shop windows, but usually the time is spent in companionable silence. Just sharing the same space.

You buy your first camera acting on pure impulse, drawn to it inexplicably and handing over money to the salesman in a matter of minutes. It fits in the palm of your hand, heavy and solid, buttons and knobs staring back at you, waiting to be pressed and manipulated. For the first ten or so minutes of ownership, you simply hold onto the device, studying its shape, its lens, fingertips running over the bumps and grooves.

“Well?” Frankie prompts, gentle voice breaking the silence, brown eyes flicking between your face and the camera. Pikachu echoes the question with a tiny pika?, sensing the fragility of the moment.

“I don’t know what to do,” you answer, shoulders curling with self-consciousness. At your feet, Shinx sits on your shoe and rubs his cheek against your leg comfortingly.

“Well,” he hums, a teasing smile growing on his lips as he presses a button. “Maybe start with turning it on first.”

“Shut up.” You swat at him, but there’s no real heat. “I meant, I don’t know what to take a photo of.”

“It doesn’t matter what the sight is,” Frankie tells you, grabbing hold of your hands and raising them up until the camera’s in front of your face. He steps back and you peek at him through the viewfinder, watching as he spreads his arms out wide with Pikachu still happily perched on his shoulder. “What’s important is how it makes you feel.”

You take a breath, taking a moment to hold the shutter button until it focuses, and then take the photo. No count down, no say cheese!—you simply heed his advice, focusing on how it makes you feel.

The preview screen asks if you’d like to keep the picture or delete it. Your thumb hovers over the buttons.

Focused on the way Frankie’s hair has a golden aura in the light, how Pikachu’s nose scrunches when she’s grinning, you nearly jump out of your skin when he’s suddenly at your side again, wondering, “What do I make you feel, shutterbug?”

Like I’m falling and flying at the same time, you think, quick and startling. A bolt of lightning amongst storm clouds.

You press save.

“Like spending a hundred bucks wasn’t a total mistake.”

Day 448

You take a seat in the cafeteria across from Yovanna and her Sylveon. You’re lucky she shares the same lunch hour as you. Even more lucky she likes you enough to also share her space. Her knack for securing a table each day despite the scrambling rush of hungry students is a gift from the gods. Or maybe it’s a perk of being the president of the Academy’s student council.

“You haven’t stopped smiling for days.” She points with her fork at your grin, a giddy, bubbly thing not even Ms. Tyme’s pop quiz last period could stifle. “Spill it. Who’re you crushing on? Is he a student here? You got a picture?”

“Not with me.” It’s a lie, ever since you bought your camera it’s been glued to your person and there’s always at least one picture of him stored within the device’s gallery of Luxio shots and library aesthetic and other things that make you happy. “He is a student here though.”

Yovanna drops her fork onto her plate, jostling the pieces of fruit waiting to be eaten. Sylveon catches a flying strawberry midair by jumping in her seat and landing neatly on four paws like it’s a regular trick to perform. “Shut up. It’s him, isn’t it?”

You feed Luxio a pickle off your sandwich, neither confirming nor denying.

But your grin does get a little bit impossibly wider.

“Aw man, I owe Santi twenty bucks now.”

Your eyes narrow shrewdly. “Did you seriously make a bet?”

“You two are joined at the hip, of course I did.” Yovanna leans back in her chair, arms behind her head, not a single hint of shame for her actions. “Santi said you’d realize you had feelings for him before winter break. I thought it’d take you until the end of the semester ‘cause you’ve got the self-awareness of a piece of concrete most days.”

“Rude.” She dodges the crumpled napkin you toss at her with a laugh.

“Hey, this is a good development. Now you just gotta keep the momentum going and tell him how you feel. You’re perfect for each other.”

Tucking back into her meal, she misses the brief slip in your smile.

“Yeah.”

Day 8

Ms. Dendra is the only teacher without a classroom, preferring to use the battlefield in the middle of the courtyard for her lessons rather than a whiteboard. She weaves along the line of students with her Medicham, offering suggestions and correcting forms to make the most out of their Pokémons’ moves. You keep one eye on her drawing steadily closer and one on Shinx pawing at the ground, charging up electricity in his forelegs. He still hasn’t mastered thunder shock yet, maybe Ms. Dendra can–

“Storm’s coming tonight,” a voice drawls behind you, a curious blend of casual and enthusiastic.

You turn around, finding Frankie standing there looking up at the sky. The dark gray clouds do seem indicative of bad weather, now that he’s mentioned it. Rain is definitely on its way.

And then he asks, a little sudden, “You ever seen one up close?”

A strange question. Still, you think about it, searching your childhood. All you remember are memories of cowering under the blankets in your bed and playing in puddles the next morning when the monstrous rumbling and harsh flashes had long passed. You’ve seen rain up close, felt the drops on your skin, inhaled the scent of petrichor deep into your lungs. But storms?

“No,” you shake your head, shivering as the temperature seems to drop. “Never.”

He hums, a bland note that could mean anything. At your feet, Shinx and Pikachu sit and stare at each other, little sparks of blue and yellow static crackling in the air between them like morse code.

“No wonder you’re having trouble with your partner. Can’t teach him about electricity when you’ve never seen it in action.”

“That’s not how training works,” you retort defensively. “Also storms aren’t exactly harmless, in case you forgot. They’re loud and dangerous and—”

“Beautiful,” Frankie cuts in with such firm conviction you reel back in surprise. “Absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful.” A pause follows, and you hate the smirk that grows on his face, how it taunts you, how it makes his eyes glitter with mischief. “Or maybe not. I could be lying. Only one way to find out for sure.”

A raindrop lands on your cheek. Then another on your arm. And another on your nose. It’s pouring now. Students are complaining about their lesson being interrupted and Ms. Dendra’s shouting for everyone to head back inside. Through it all your eyes remain locked in an intense staring match, neither one willing to surrender.

“Fine,” you reply with a sharp jerk of your chin. “Show me.”

Day 1,448

Your internship with Professor Oak is—good. It’s the start of a brand new chapter in your life, except the last chapter ended on a terrible note and the upcoming pages are terrifyingly blank if you fail to impress your new boss, so. Yeah.

You get along with the Professor’s other intern, a local boy named Will. He teaches you how to drive the ZERO-ONE around the sanctuary. You spend hours out on the trails, memorizing everything about the wild Pokémon who call the island home. You enjoy the assignments Professor Oak gives you, staying busy, filling up albums with photos and journals with research notes.

But when it’s quiet, when you’re staring up at the ceiling waiting for sleep to come…you’ve never felt more lonely in your life. Even with Luxray within reach, loyal and constant, there’s a persistent ache you can’t shake. A loose thread dangling in your mind, tormenting you, and you know if you were to tug on it exactly where it would lead.

Everything leads back to him.

Frankie hasn’t tried to call you. Hasn’t had any contact with you since graduation. Not even a postcard from whatever corner of the world he’s trying to accomplish his dreams.

You haven’t tried to call him either. And yes, it’s true communication is a two-way street, but he’s the one who left and took your heart with him. Why should you give him more of yourself? You hate yourself for even contemplating picking up the phone.

You hate yourself even more for wondering what your relationship would’ve been like if you’d gone with him. If it’d hurt less to just have stayed friends. If you’d been better off never knowing him at all. If, if, if…

Day 485

The problem is, you think your feelings for Frankie are just a little bit stronger than a crush. You’re pretty sure you’re in love with him. Or at least halfway there.

As much as you hate to admit it, Yovanna wasn’t wrong saying you have the self-awareness of a piece of cement. You don’t know for certain if the fluttery Butterfree sensation in your stomach or galloping heartbeat whenever Frankie smiles at you is love. But you are certain he’s gotten under your skin, triggering as many irritations as he is encouraging new ways of growth. You’re a better person, you think, simply by knowing him.

You also think it’s actually kind of scary to imagine something so strong and life-transforming could be anything else but love. Regardless, you hope it stays with you forever. This precious, nameless thing.

It won’t be until many days later—until you know what it’s like to kiss him, and hold his face between your palms, the heat of his breath tingling against your skin; until he’s fluent in myths and legends and fables, swearing he’ll be the one to make them truths and facts and verities; until you can’t picture a future without him in it, not a happy one, at least—you’ll realize you do love him. And he loves you, too, as it turns out.

But nothing lasts forever. Someone’s always got to be the first to let go.

Day 1,375

You receive an offer for an internship with Professor Oak in Pallet Town to help him complete his Pokémon Report by taking photos on a nearby island sanctuary. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime to work with such an esteemed researcher, but thinking about graduation creeping up, about leaving behind this realm of familiarity now that you’ve learned everything Uva Academy has to teach, it’s—moving forward is harder than you anticipate.

It doesn’t help that Frankie's becoming more and more restless, unable to stand still as if it physically pains him to do so. No matter how many walks around the city, how many storms chased after, he’s always looking out towards the horizon, aura so thick with discontentment it’s as if he’s physically cloaked in it.

Lately the only moments he seems to settle within his own skin are when he’s talking with Ms. Raifort, discussing ancient prophecies and ruins scattered around the globe. You don’t understand it, his passionate fascination–no, obsession with mythology. Why not let sleeping dogs lie?

Frankie won’t talk to you about the future, evading the topic like a cunning Nickit. Still you cling to his hand, to hope, to the belief love conquers all, until the morning of graduation he comes to your dorm room and stares over your shoulder rather than meet your gaze. Even Pikachu hides her face in his curls, ears lowered despondently.

You let him in, the beginnings of dread stirring in your stomach, sensing whatever he’s got to say will have irreparable consequences.

“Did you have breakfast yet?” You gesture towards the kitchen, an unspoken can this wait? laced within the question.

“Not feeling very hungry today,” he answers, glancing about the room aimlessly. No, it can’t.

“That’s a first.” You take a seat on the sofa next to Luxray, grounding yourself by stroking a hand along his back. “You gonna tell me what’s on your mind or are you gonna make me guess?”

At that, Frankie finally turns to you, and his torn expression fractures something delicate inside of you, coldness flooding your lungs.

“I’ve been thinking. About us.”

“What about us?”

“I love you.” There’s no sweetness to the words. No tenderness. They are words of blood, of pain, scraping against his throat on their way out. “I’ve loved you from day one and I’ll love you ten thousand more. But what I want, what you want—it’s not the same thing. And it’s only going to hurt the longer we keep pretending otherwise.”

“Stop, please don’t—” your voice cracks, the cold gripping your heart now. Please don’t say it. Please don’t do this. “We’re—we’re good together. You know we are.”

“We were,” he amends, voice so unbearably gentle it’s a jagged blade against your soul. “We were so good. But we’re not ready for what comes next. We’ve become thunder and lightning, one ahead of the other. Our timing is off, shutterbug.”

Day 765

It’s drizzling a little when you return to campus. You shiver in your wet dress, grimacing as you accidentally step in a puddle, thoroughly soaking your flats and bare feet. Hopefully you won’t slip on the stairs and break your neck. That’d be the cherry on top of this disappointing evening.

You just want to shower, put on your comfiest pajamas, and fall asleep as fast as possible.

Except when you reach your floor there’s a figure curled up on the floor outside your door, fast asleep with a snoring Pikachu curled on his chest.

“Hey, sleeping beauty.” You nudge at Frankie’s knee with your wet shoe, raising an eyebrow at him as he jerks awake, blinking rapidly. “What’re you doing here?”

“Oh, you’re back,” he says through a yawn, stretching his arms over his head. Pikachu grunts, displeased at the movement and sounds, and stubbornly curls into a tighter ball, forcing him to cradle her in the nook of his arm as he stands up. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I just–I wanted to make sure you got back from your date okay. How did it go?”

Your date, Tom, is in Mr. Hassel’s art class with you. He invited you to see a new photography exhibit at the city’s museum. He was nice, if a little overzealous, and seeing lovely displays of art seemed like a better way to spend the evening instead of once again hopelessly pining over your best friend. So, you’d said yes, changed into a nice dress, and swore off any and all yearning.

Except that’s exactly what you ended up doing anyways.

Every time a photo left you breathless, you’d instinctively turn to look for brown eyes that weren’t there. Every joke Tom made you’d compare it to one of Frankie’s. Throughout the entire evening, you couldn’t stop your thoughts drifting back towards the Academy, wondering what he was doing.

You weren’t surprised Tom cut the date short, correctly sensing your heart just wasn’t into it. Still stung a bit though watching him leave you behind to join up with some other classmates hanging out in the plaza.

“Poorly,” you answer with a slight grimace.

“Oh.” Frankie blinks, looking at a loss for additional words. He’s wearing the hoodie he got from his trip to Montenevera over the holiday break and sweatpants, warm and rumpled and cozy, a complete contrast to your entire wardrobe. “Did he–did he hurt you? Because if he did anything inappropriate, I swear–”

“What? No, no, nothing like that happened.” You shake your head, ignoring the flutter of your heartbeat, touched at his protectiveness. He’s still staring at you, and you know he’s not going to let this slide under the rug. “Relax, tough guy. Tom was fine. I was the problem.”

“Tauros shit,” he immediately rejects the notion. “You could never be a problem.”

The hallway feels too hot all of the sudden despite the icy raindrops still clinging to your skin. “That’s sweet,” you say, trying to flash a grin except the muscles in your face refuse to cooperate. It feels stiff. Forced. “You say that to all the girls?”

His mouth tugs upwards into a smile, dimpled and boyish. “Once or twice,” he says, “but I only mean it with you.”

It’s dangerous and stupid to get your hopes up, but there’s something about the quietness, something about his brown eyes and his nearness, that makes you take a leap of faith. Makes you think screw it and reach for his free hand, lacing your fingers together.

“I was the problem,” you tell him softly, watching his expression sober, “because I kept looking for you.”

Silence follows, interrupted by a quiet snore from Pikachu.

Then, just as softly, Frankie says for a second time, “Oh.”

You swallow, feeling like you can’t breathe. “Yeah.”

“Silly girl, you didn’t need to look.” He squeezes your hand, leans in just enough to bump his nose against yours. “I’ve always been here.”

Day 1,375

Later, you won’t remember the particulars of how the rest of the conversation played out. There are words, so many words. Angry and inconsolable, spat out through clenched teeth and pleaded with numb lips. Tears, too. So many damn tears it’s a wonder you don’t drown yourself.

You will remember how he looks at you though. Brown eyes deep and golden, reflecting the morning light streaming through the window. He’s beautiful, and you think that’s the final straw of it all, the definitive proof that even as he’s ripping out your heart you will never feel anything less for him than love.

No passage of time or miles of distance will ever change that. You know this like you know the sun will rise tomorrow, and the next day, and the one after that.

Still, this certainty doesn’t stitch up the gaping, bleeding hole in your sternum.

No, that self-healing won’t begin until many, many days later.

Day 610

In another life, if you hadn’t discovered your love of photography, you think you would have been a great astronomer. You know each of the constellations’ names, the best times during the year to spot them, even the tales assigned to them.

Tonight, the night sky is full of stars in every direction you look, not even the distant city lights strong enough to overpower their shine. You lie on your back in the soft meadow grass, hands resting on your stomach, the scent of wildflowers as thick in the air as the fireflies Luxio and Pikachu chase after. To your left, he mimics your pose, except he’s got an arm pillowed under his head, silent except for his breathing.

“There’s Kingler, cursed to hold up his heavy claw for eternity,” you say eventually, raising a hand to trace the starry outline with your fingertip. “Cubone’s next to him, forever mourning his mother.”

He remains silent. You turn your head to look at him, discovering he is deeply absorbed in his thoughts. Physically, you could easily reach out for his hand, but the blankness in his eyes suggests internally he’s half a world away. Somewhere you can’t follow. An irrational spark of jealousy burns hot in your veins, upset your presence isn’t enough of an anchor to keep him locked in the present moment.

You emit a quiet sigh, mentally rolling your eyes at your own childishness, and start to turn back to the sky when his voice catches you off guard, asking, “You ever notice they’re all tragedies?”

“Huh?”

“The myths behind the constellations.” He looks at you then, eyes dim with an emotion you can’t recognize. “Can you name one with a happy ending?”

You think about Pinsir, exiled due to his uncontrollable rage; Koffing, releasing toxic gases as he dies; Dugtrio, punished by an angry Groudon for gouging too many holes in the earth. The list grows longer, the tales grow sadder.

“No,” you say at last. “I guess not.”

He shrugs a shoulder, like it’s nothing, like his next words aren’t going to hurt something fierce. “That’s because happy endings are the biggest myth of all.”

Day 1,375

He kisses you. It is perfect and excruciating all at once. His hand is cupping your cheek, and his touch is so tender and intimately familiar you can’t stop yourself from indulging and it’s cruel of him to leave you like this. Shattered and wanting. Falling and flying.

But when Frankie’s right, he’s right.

This split in your paths has been a long time coming. You’d just refused to read the writing on the wall, content to keep counting the days, pretending the number would stretch on into infinity.

Infinity is just another word for forever though.

And there’s truth in that old saying: when you love someone—

“I love you,” he says again at the door. His eyes drift over your face, as if memorizing every detail. “And I’m proud of you. Remember that.” There’s the briefest of glimpses of tears in his eyes before he’s wrapping you in a hug, so tight your ribs painfully protest. You savor every second of it. “This isn’t the last of us. We’ll meet again, I swear it. One day, shutterbug.”

—you let them go.

Day 1,669

You’ve been dreading his arrival, dreading how he might look at you. What might be different. What, if anything, might be the same.

All communication thus far has been directly with Professor Oak. You haven’t heard a single peep even though your number’s stayed the same. Even though you know he knows you’re here.

Luxray stays close as the hour draws closer, trying to soothe your nervous energy. You stroke his mane, eyes flicking between your computer, the window, and then back again. The cursor blinks on the screen, waiting for you to finish adding the last details to the report you’ve been developing on the Pokémon signs you and Will discovered. Bizarre occurrences where the environment manifests the likeness of specific Pokémon—always the same ones in the same places. But why they existed and what they meant remained unsolved mysteries robbing you of sleep.

It had been the Professor's idea to invite another set of eyes to examine the clues after months of no solid progress. For every one step made forward it felt like the universe would shove you five steps backwards, the hidden connection remaining just out of your reach.

If you had known Professor Oak and Ms. Raifort were old friends, that she would’ve recommended her favorite pupil…well, you’re not sure if anything would’ve really changed. What fate wants, fate gets one way or another.

Frankie arrives at eventide, bringing the warmth of the fading sun into the lab with him. He looks…unchanged. Maybe a little broader, thicker with muscle from his journeys. But still familiar in all the ways that matter. You wonder if the same can be said for yourself.

He’s looking at you, and it’s—it’s less painful than you expected. No tight band wrapped around your middle, no spontaneous bursting of tears. He’s just a man with a Pikachu on his shoulder and a dimpled grin on his face.

“Hey shutterbug,” he says, and it feels abruptly like slow motion, like you’re watching through someone else’s eyes as he comes closer, closer, closer and pulls you into a tight embrace. His arms are just as strong as you remember them, memories of graduation screaming in the back of your mind and you’re in your dorm room again watching him walk out of your life with your heart in tow.

You want to…

(kiss him, hit him, hold him, scream at him)

You want too many things.

“Hey,” you echo lamely as he pulls back. If Frankie hears the faintest of quivers in your voice, he thankfully doesn’t show a sign of it. You shoot a small grin at Pikachu, mouth stretching wider when she returns it with a cheerful pika pi, waving her paw. “Ready to help solve a mystery?”

“I always wanted to make history.” He’s smirking that same damn smirk, an intense pang of nostalgia striking you. Your fingers twitch, wishing you had your camera. “But I think it’s better this way, yeah?”

“What way?”

Distantly, you’re aware of Professor Oak and Will watching the conversation ping-ponging back and forth, both smart enough to pick up on the unspoken something between you and Frankie.

“Making history together,” he says, as if it’s obvious. “We make a good team, you and I.”

The words bounce around inside your head for a moment. A good team. Is that all we are? is what you want to ask, but the answer’s a double-edged sword shoved between your ribs no matter how he phrases it.

So you swallow the question down and bury it.

“C’mon,” you gesture towards your computer, “I’ll show you what we’ve got so far.”

Day 128

Winter sweeps in, all frigid winds and frosted windows. Together you stay at the Academy during the holiday break. It’s days of no homework, snowball fights, and parka coats. Nights spent by the fireplace, hot chocolates topped with whipped cream, wishing you could bottle these memories in a jar and keep them on a shelf.

If Frankie knew about it, he would say Jirachi heard your wish, but it’s your opinion that fate’s just got a funny sense of humor. Either way, a few years down the line you’ll have the collection of memories you desired, almost all of them starring him. They won’t be kept in fragile jars, but in captured photographs unaffected by the withering flow of time. Little glimpses of a happy life, and how much you've lost.

Day 2,000

You kiss Frankie on the front deck of the L.E.N.S. the night before he’s scheduled to leave. It’s stupid and impulsive, but he’s just right there in front of you, bathed in starlight and high off the elation that comes with solving another Pokémon mystery, further securing his place amongst the pages of historic exploration, a legend in his own lifetime, and there’s no thoughts in your head so—you kiss him.

It isn’t your first kiss, but it feels like something new. He’s got stubble now, you’re wearing a lab coat—little details of proof you’re far from the kids you used to be. He smells the same though, like coffee and evergreens and fresh rain. The quiet, awed exhale of your name, like you’re something wonderful, something mythical come true, is the same too.

And for the briefest of moments, you can almost imagine you’re together again.

But in the end it’s just a kiss, not a time machine.

Day 1,762

“For someone with a new career, you don’t look very excited,” Will says, knocking his shoulder against yours good-naturedly. You try to summon up a smile, but it isn’t fooling anyone.

Professor Oak’s treating you both to a fancy dinner at a restaurant you can’t pronounce the name of, celebrating the news of your new job as an official field research photographer working alongside Professor Mirror in Florio. It’s an amazing step forward, resulting from the success of the Rainbow Cloud discovery with Frankie, certain to give your name another added boost of recognition in the photography community.

“I am,” you say, remembering how you’d nearly passed out when you received the offer. Another attempt at a grin yields better results. “It’s gonna be great.”

Will tilts his head, a knowing look in his eyes. “You’re thinking about him. Again.”

“Not intentionally.” Your lips curl into a rueful grimace, fingers twisting together in your lap. “He just…never leaves my thoughts.”

Frankie told you before he left he didn’t have a home, not anymore, too much of a restless spirit to stay in one place. You wonder if his answer would be different, if he knew it’s been 1,762 days and every one of them he’s spent occupying your head.

“Even when he’s gone and left you behind?” From anyone else, the question would’ve been harsh, but your friend’s eyes are kind, full of empathy.

There’s a second where you contemplate lying, but you can’t. Not to him, and not to yourself.

“Especially then.”

Day 2,000

“Sorry.” It comes out of your mouth stilted—not because you don’t mean it, but because your heart’s beating like a thunderstorm. A wildness you haven’t felt in years.

“I’ve never needed an apology from you.” Frankie looks at you softly, the brown of his eyes getting lost in the dark. “Two thousand. Can you believe it? Seems like just yesterday I watched you walk into class.”

You forget sometimes that he’s the sentimental type too when it comes to those he cares about. It’s why he doesn’t give Pikachu a Thunderstone, and why he only knows how to play one song on a guitar, his mother’s favorite. How sweet it is, to learn he must care about you to keep count, maybe even love you a little bit still.

“Frankie,” you start, dropping your forehead onto his shoulder. His nearness is a comfort as much as it is a distraction, but this conversation is long overdue by hundreds of days. “What are we?”

“You tell me.” A hand comes to rest on your waist, a searing brand through the fabric of your clothes. “What do you want us to be?”

You think about the question for a long moment, wondering what words pack enough meaning to give the answer it deserves.

What you want is another storm to chase, another constellation to trace. What you want is for your hands to brush during walks, never having to hear his voice on the end of a phone again because he’s right there by your side. What you want is everything that once was to align in perfect harmony with the immediate now.

“I want us to be together.”

“We are.”

“No, we’re not,” you murmur, staring down at the mud stains on his boots.

“Listen, shutterbug,” his hands move to your head, one tilting up your chin and the other gently palming your neck, forcing you to meet his gaze, “a lot can happen in two thousand days–”

“I know, I know.”

His fingers spasm, like he’s resisting the urge to tug on your hair, eyes sharpening at the interruption. “A lot can happen in two thousand days,” he repeats, and you hear it this time, the heavy weight in his tone. Rarely is he this serious. “We’ve changed, we’ve grown, we’ve been on opposite ends of the earth from each other. But tonight, of all places, I’m here and you’re here.”

And maybe it really is that simple. People say lightning doesn’t strike the same place twice, but twice now you’ve watched him go and twice he’s been brought back to you.

You reach up, wrapping your hands around his wrists, holding him there. “Do you think we’ll ever be what we were?”

“No.” He steps impossibly closer, lips brushing against your forehead. “I think one day we’ll be better.”

Better, you mouth the word. It feels like a promise, like a turning point.

“Yeah, one day,” you agree, heartbeat steadying, matching the rhythm of his beneath your fingertips. “It’ll be worth the wait.”

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #triple frontier fanfiction #pedrostories #my fic #my writing #frankie morales

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thepsychewrites · 1 year

Text

The Complexities of a Black Hole — Pt. One

A Bucky Barnes x F!Reader Series

Summary: We learn the story of how you first met Bucky, and the whirlwind of emotions that followed. An evening of training and a cozy night spent with you and Bucky watching the Princess Bride made for the best day. Little did you know that only hours later something would happen to Bucky that would change your lives forever.

Warnings: This series and my entire blog is 18+ ONLY. MINORS / AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT. Frequent use of heavy and descriptive language. Mostly angst and fluff. Mentions of blood/slight and very brief gore, TWS, self deprecating thoughts, allusions to depression? If I missed anything please let me know!!

Word Count: 5.2K

A/N: The first part of TCoaBH. I wanna give a big thank you to my mutuals that helped me and supported me through this series so far with ideas and beta reading ( and a big thank you to @fandoms-writings for beta reading this chapter!! I love you so much Remi 😚) & etc!! I love you all so much. This series is my child and I’m very excited to share it with you all. Any reblogs, comments, and feedback is highly appreciated <3 Enjoy.

Main Masterlist

At the center of nearly every large galaxy in the known universe lies a black hole.

When a star reaches the end of its life cycle, it can have a dramatic exit, compressing its matter into the smallest form it can take and eventually collapsing. In some instances, when this star runs out of fuel and says its final goodbyes, it bursts into a bright supernova, leaving behind a new entity in its place – a black hole.

Bucky Barnes was a black hole. At least – that’s what he would compare himself to. Even on a good day, Bucky couldn’t help but to see himself as a gigantic pit of despair and darkness, sucking the life from any room he enters and being a massive inconvenience to everyone in close proximity.

Similar to a black hole, light never escaped Bucky. If you were to ask anyone who spent longer than an hour around him how often he smiled, the unanimous answer would sound something along the lines of, “Oh, well – I don’t actually think I’ve ever seen him smile.” Unless, of course, you were Steve Rogers. But even Steve would tell you that a grin from Bucky came few and far between, and felt a lot less genuine than before.

Similar to a black hole, Bucky Barnes was programmed to destroy. At least, that’s what he was told time and time again. And it’s what he has come to believe, no matter how many times he was reassured that he isn’t at fault for his own sins – Bucky would carry that belief to the grave.

Black holes are only dangerous if you get too close. The same can be said for Bucky Barnes.

Despite these deeply held beliefs, he had been doing better in the last few years.

Returning to a more normal life after being captured, tortured, and used by a terrorist organization for over seventy years was nothing short of difficult. Bucky had to relearn every aspect of life. How he needed to dress, how to tend to his basic needs like showering more than once a week and eating three meals a day, how to talk to other people in a friendly manner, how to ask for things when he needed help, how to use current technology – it was a tedious process. Most days he felt lost, like he had woken up on a foreign exoplanet where the technology was wildly advanced and nobody could understand a word he said. Actually – that’s exactly what it seemed like. On this planet, he was the alien. He was the oddity, the rare specimen that nobody could comprehend. It was isolating and rather miserable most of the time.

He woke up every day grateful for how far he’s come, but fearing the worst when he thought about his future. Steve compared him to an injured bird once – that despite his clipped wings, he’ll learn to fly again. Bucky scoffed at that – saying the only bird in the building was Sam. He was making improvements, slowly but surely, and everyone noticed.

However, there was one thing Bucky would always be cautious of, especially now in his newfound life.

Change.

It was inevitable, that much he was sure of. It threw him for a loop, made his mind stir with nagging thoughts all through the day and night. Even the little things would drive him crazy, like when Tony had all of the washers and dryers replaced and now they made a different chiming sound when the cycles were done. Something as simple as that nearly sent Bucky into a full blown panic attack. But it wasn’t just the little things like unfamiliar sounds – it was the people he had met along the way. The new faces and names he had to learn – living and working and experiencing life with them, getting to know them inside and out. What motivated them, what made them tick, what sent them spiraling – Bucky learned as much as he could.

The biggest change Bucky had experienced in the last year was you.

You came crashing into his life – quite literally – seven months ago. One afternoon Bucky was walking the halls of the Compound, trying to make his way outside so he could run on the track and “enjoy the fresh air for once” as Steve had said in a poor attempt to convince him, when, after turning a corner a little too quickly, you collided right into him. Apologies fled your mouth, backing away with wide eyes and looking as mortified as the time when Bucky walked in on Sam getting out of the shower, no towel in sight. The decorations you had shoved between your arms for your bedroom ended up scattered along the floor from the impact, little knickknacks rolling around the both of you. Feeling heavily embarrassed, Bucky crouched down, picking up the trinkets and offering to bring them to your room.

It was a memorable introduction to say the least. It still made him laugh when he thought back on it.

Bucky had always found it difficult to make friends. Even growing up, the only person he ever allowed himself to really get close to was Steve. Then you came along and flipped Bucky’s world upside down and inside out. There was something about you that enraptured Bucky, something indescribable that made him feel okay around you. Like the sky opened up and he could breathe again. It was an unseeable gravitational force that kept him within arms length at all times, which made it easy to get to know one another. Sure – there was a continuous hesitation from Bucky at the start, but he overcame that feeling rather fast.

“Tony didn’t tell you? She worked with Nasa for a while as a research scientist. She’s smarter than both of us combined, Buck.” Steve had informed Bucky a week after you moved in. Bucky was confused as to why he hadn’t seen much of you during mission briefings, questioning Steve on the matter. “Fury doesn’t want her in the field… something along the lines of ‘Would you send Albert Einstein into the Invasion of Normandy?’ Apparently she’s in the labs most of the day, helping Stark and Banner with the fun stuff.”

Bucky remembers the first time he saw you in the labs, with a large pair of safety glasses on as you handled some intense vials of chemicals, your tongue peeking from the side of your mouth as you focused, not even hearing him enter the room. He remembers tucking his leather-clad fist into the pocket of his trousers, the widening pit in his stomach dissolving at the sight of the insanely cute smile you flashed at him when you finally noticed his presence, muttering an apology as you hurried to put the liquids away to speak to him.

Nobody had ever smiled at Bucky like that before when he entered a room. He was used to grimaces, horribly hidden eye-rolls, or heavy sighs from others.

But you changed the game.

Eventually, he came to see you as a good friend. A close friend. Maybe even… a best friend?

Bucky wasn’t sure what having a best friend was supposed to feel like. He knew Steve was his best friend, and nobody could really replace him, but he and Steve had known each other their whole lives. They had earned the title of best friends when they were still in grade school, so it was natural for them to be close to one another, to care for one another. Steve could even be categorized as a brother at this point. But Bucky hadn’t made a best friend since.

Is this what it felt like?

He sighed into the open air, his hands twisting around a damp, sweat-ridden towel as he watched you saunter around the sparring ring with Sam. Despite the fact that you hardly ever went out on missions with them, you still enjoyed the physical training they offered to you when you joined. Bucky’s thoughts were getting the best of him again, distracting him when he was supposed to be focused, especially right now while they were getting some sparring in. He wiped the towel over his dripping forehead one last time before tossing it on the bench and standing up, fixing his hair in a low bun and making his way back over to the ring.

Bucky leaned against a corner post, his eyes following you intently as you circled Sam, fists balled up to block your chest, chin high with unwavering confidence.

At least, it was unwavering until you noticed Bucky’s stare on you. “Hey Buck, back for seconds?” You teased, your smirky grin only lasting a moment before your mouth fully opened in a gasp, your leg being pulled forward by Sam's causing you to lose your balance and land with a thump on the padded floor. A groan slipped from you, your hand going back to cradle your head. “God, Sammy, thanks for the concussion.”

A soft snicker came from Bucky, fortunately not loud enough for you or Sam to hear.

Sam simply shrugged his shoulders, offering a hand to help you up, his other sitting disappointingly on his hip. “Mhmm. You would’ve been able to counter that if you were paying any attention.”

Begrudgingly, you took it, pulling off the floor and regaining your balance. Once on your feet, you looked at Bucky and rolled your eyes. “Yeah, whatever. This is why I leave the crime fighting to you guys.” You mumbled, poorly concealing the smile creeping to your face as your hands moved to straighten your disheveled clothes.

God that smile.

Bucky would do just about anything to keep a permanent smile pulling at your pretty lips. It was like every evil thing that has ever plagued the Earth just disappeared when you beamed like that. Like nothing bad could ever happen again. And the way it made your eyes narrow and your nose scrunch up had Bucky’s cheeks turning pink, his head ducking down before you or Sam could notice. By the time his heart fell back into a normal pace, Sam was out of the ring and gathering his things while you chugged down some water.

“Hey, don’t forget,” Sam called to Bucky, his gym bag thrown over his shoulder as he faced the exit, “we still have that briefing tonight at nine for the trip to D.C tomorrow, so be there or be square. I think we all remember the scolding Steve gave you last time for poking around and being late. Again.” He said before promptly leaving the room, the glass door softly shutting behind him.

“Yeah Buck, you heard the man. Can’t be late again or Steve’s gonna get on your ass.” You said from the other side of the ring, your back against the rubber ropes.

Bucky scoffed, knowing it was you and your stupid new bedazzling gun that made him late last time. It took Bucky a solid four hours to pry the tiny fake jewels off of his holster, and of course it was right before a meeting with Fury. “You’re annoying.” He said with utmost sincerity.

Once again, Bucky was graced with a pull of your lips. “I know.” You said equally sincere.

There was a lingering gaze you left upon Bucky, a soft tingle traveling up the length of his spine.

He watched as your hands met at your front, wringing together in a shy manner. “So – you don't have to be at the briefing until nine… right?”

Bucky hummed.

“Wanna get a start on the Princess Bride, then? It’s next on our list.”

Oh, the list. A list you had curated specifically to get Bucky caught up on the wondrous twenty first century and all of the literature and films he had missed out on. The list was practically a mile long, filled with some of your favorites along with other suggestions from your teammates. Lately you had been raving about a book and film called The Princess Bride, a title that made Bucky assume it was just another fairytale story. But he would never be one to deny you, especially when you looked up at him with an excited sparkle in your eyes. Usually if a film accompanied a novel, you’d read the book first and then watch the movie adaptation, but without a copy of The Princess Bride on hand, the film alone would have to do.

Bucky allowed his lips to form a gentle grin, his heart beating wildly yet again. “Of course, let me shower first and we’ll start it.”

Thirty minutes later, after the both of you had scrubbed the sweat away from your bodies and freshened up, Bucky had found you in your bedroom with the lights off and an array of snacks laid across the foot of the bed. You were already laying down, clad in a navy long sleeved cotton tee and a tight pair of black shorts that left your silky smooth legs on display, a t.v remote in your hands, and your thumb pressing some buttons before the movie was pulled up. Upon seeing Bucky’s large frame leaning against the doorway you ushered him in, patting the empty spot of the mattress next to you.

Your eyes scanned his body as he moved to sit down, his plain black t-shirt hugging the muscles across his chest, his metal arm free of restriction. This is the Bucky you loved to see. He grew to be comfortable around you, especially in the quietness of your room where nobody else was looking in. Nobody else was watching him or expecting anything from him. It was just the two of you, exactly the way you both liked it.

Bucky huffed as he shifted his body to match your relaxed position, his hands clasping at his stomach. Though he was positive he couldn’t match your internal calmness, not when he could smell the coconut shampoo you had used in the shower, or the vanilla conditioner you often paired with it. The scent alone made his body tense up, his lungs filling to the brim with every breath he took.

“Now you have to pay attention to this one, Buck. It’s one of my favorites.” You teased quietly so as not to startle him in the current silence that surrounded you.

“I'll pay attention, don't worry.” He quipped back with a smirk, knocking his sweatpant covered knee into yours.

With another shared smile you finally pressed play, the opening scene flooding your room with bright colors. You leaned down to grab some of the snacks you prepared, a large bowl of popcorn, a bag of pretzels, and a few boxes of candy.

Bucky was slightly caught off guard, his brows furrowed as he turned to look at you. “I thought this was about a princess, who’s this little kid?” He asked, confused as to why a sickly boy was on the screen. “And who is that? His grandpa or something?”

“Just keep watching Buck, you’ll get it soon.” You giggled, knowing he'd have plenty of other questions and concerns as the movie played on.

As the old man sat down and opened the book he would read to his grandson, Bucky seemed to connect the dots a little better. He stayed quiet for only a minute longer before he had more commentary to spew.

Bucky wasn't expecting the film to be as lovey dovey as it was, especially in the first few minutes alone.“As you wish? This Westley guy sounds a bit whipped for that Buttercup, don't you think?” Bucky mumbled in between bites of popcorn, the bowl now resting in his lap.

You hummed in slight agreement. “I dunno, I think it's kinda sweet.”

Kinda sweet? Hmm, maybe Bucky should be taking notes on this, then. The way in which Westley looked at Buttercup oddly reminded him of how he often looked at you, with nothing but sincerity and reverence in his eyes. But the narrator said Westley was in love with Buttercup, and surely what Bucky felt for you didn’t mean he was in love.

Right?

As the movie continued, a story of princesses, sword fights, bad guys, adventure and love was unfurling before his eyes, Bucky tried his hardest to stay focused. He found his attention being swept elsewhere when you suddenly shifted closer to him, your head resting gently on the edge of his shoulder. He could feel each warm breath you exhaled against his skin, his nerve endings sparking. When you curled even closer into his side you had no idea you had just started a wildfire within the man. The heat of a thousand suns burned inside of Bucky from something as simple as your body next to his. It was voluntary, your desire to close the physical gap between the two of you. It didn’t gross you out, it didn’t make you flinch or cower. He nearly had the idea to pull you in further by wrapping his arm over your shoulder, but would that be too far? The second he said fuck it and began moving his arm, you spoke, stopping him in his tracks.

“Shit, is it nearly nine already?” You suddenly called, your eyes pointed up to the clock on the wall. “You should probably head to the meeting room before Cap comes and busts my door down.” With a quick press to the pause button the movie had stopped, the wildfire dying out as you pushed to sit upright.

His brows furrowed. “You’re not coming with?”

You hummed, a look of contemplation spreading across your features. “Do you want me to come with?” You asked sweetly, your fingers wrapping over the plastic remote as you laid it on your night stand.

All Bucky gave was a nod, but that was enough for you.

Bucky was silent as he walked next to you, too many thoughts invading his head to think about a single one clearly, let alone engage in small talk while he was at it. He was spacing out, the only thing keeping him tethered to the present was your blurry figure walking ahead of him to the elevators. He didn’t register getting in the elevator, nor stepping out and moving towards the meeting room, and not even sitting down beside you at the long conference table. Bucky eventually tuned back in when your knee began knocking against his. 

“Earth to Buck. You with us, bud?” You whispered next to his ear, his eyes focusing in on your concerned face, your look mirrored by Steve’s and Sam’s across from him. 

With a shake of his head he chuckled, playing off whatever happened. “Yeah, sorry – what were you saying?” Bucky turned to meet Steve’s eyes, the fog barely clearing. 

Steve was used to that foreign look on Bucky’s face, so he knew to tread lightly and keep the teasing at bay. “I said that I was glad you could make it on time, that’s all. Anyway, now that we’re here, let’s get started, shall we?” Steve said with the authoritative Captain voice he always used during meetings. He stood, shuffling to a wide screen and began detailing tomorrow's plans. Bucky was counting on you to be paying close attention, because he could hardly hear Steve, the muddled words drowned out behind the beats of his frantic heart. He was saying something about an abandoned building Fury had mentioned, a possible threat.

Like the world would run out of those any time soon.

Bucky slowly fell out of his spaced-out state, suddenly noticing the gentle circular patterns being drawn against his silver arm. The tips of your nails pressed against the chipped plates of his prosthetic, the motions barely registering from how soft and lazily you scrapped them across.

A thought crossed his mind just then, a memory seared into his brain of the first time you touched him.

“He doesn’t like hugs.” Steve had mumbled in your ear, pulling away from your embrace only to lean down uncomfortably in his gear and tactile suit. You were mostly hidden behind Steve’s large, towering frame, peeking out from around his bicep to study the panting man behind him.

The two had just returned to the Compound from a grueling mission, one that left a few civilians in critical care from the cruel acts of another narcissistic, egotistical evil-doer. They both came back utterly defeated and in low spirits, Bucky’s glazed-over eyes casting downward and refusing to meet yours as you stood before him.

Steve eventually walked away, his slight limp horribly masked by his ‘if I’m still breathing, I’m fine’ attitude, leaving you and Bucky alone in the eerily silent living room. You could hear the low, quick draws of breath invade his nose, the slump of his shoulders falling deeper and deeper by the second. The guy looked like he was going to fall over from exhaustion.

By this point, you and Bucky had shared a handful of conversations, a few of them lingering far past his normal social encounters. He was beginning to feel less guarded around you, noticing how isolated rays of the sun began to penetrate his long-standing concrete fortress he built for protection. So, when you stepped closer to his cowering body, he didn’t feel the sudden urge to back away. He didn’t feel the need to run and hide.

And when your arms opened for him, ever so carefully wrapping around his wide torso, your hands clasping at the bottom of his back – he had no urge other than to stay. He let you hold him for minutes, the two of you never leaving your spot, your feet planted solidly to the ground using your strength to hold the both of you steady.

He didn’t tell you at the time, but being so delicately shielded in your arms was the first time he felt safe that whole day. That whole week. That whole month.

No, who was he kidding? It’s the first time he felt that safe all fucking year.

Now, he longed for a touch he didn’t deserve. He yearned for the safety you provided, whether it was your body against his or your fingers grazing down his horrid, scar-ridden arm. It slowed the taunting words that raced through his head. It steadied his wretched heart. It was more generosity than he could ever hope to ask for.

“…So as I said, it should be an easy in and out. Fury deemed it fully abandoned, and from what I saw of it, I’d have to agree. The jet is leaving from hangar three at six sharp, so don’t be late. Especially you, Buck.”

The call of his name caused his eyes to shoot up, meeting the stern face of his captain. “Yeah, six sharp, got it.” Bucky confirmed with a slight nod. His mind was still wandering with the comforting drag of your fingers, wondering how long you’d hang onto him.

Eight minutes. That’s how long. Bucky counted each ticking second.

You eventually pulled away from him when the two of you stood in front of your bedroom door, Bucky walking back with you in a somber silence. He wasn’t too keen on the idea of another mission without you, even with Steve’s promise of returning the same day. Bucky didn’t want you to worry, and he knew that worrying was what you did best.

“Just be careful, alright? I know you always are but… still. No stupid decisions.” Your touch didn’t leave for good, your chest meeting his as your arms found their favorite spot against his waist. The top of your head was so close to his mouth, he had no other choice but to plant a short kiss to it, a lingering promise of his return mumbled quickly after.

Bucky kept his eyes on you as you disappeared into your room for the night, standing outside your door until he heard you climb into bed. It seemed as though, whether he was aware of it or not, Bucky might have been just as whipped for you as Westley was for Buttercup. Overstaying his welcome, he waited until the soothing sounds of your soft snoring floated to his ears, finally allowing his legs to carry him to his own bed.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Maybe you had every right in the world to worry.

Maybe Bucky wasn’t as strong as he thought he was.

Maybe he wasn’t fit for this job anymore.

Maybe he just screwed up the life he had begun building for himself.

Maybe what everyone else told him was true.

Maybe Bucky Barnes was nothing but a monster.

Frantic voices filled the air of the Compound, deafening orders being yelled into the room, your teammates running around with wide eyes.

Standing by the jet, motionless and panicked, you felt close to vomiting everywhere. What they said couldn’t be true, right? It couldn’t be. You refused to believe it. You refused to believe Bucky did what they reported back. The Bucky you knew couldn't have. He had gotten better, he was doing so good… making incredible progress. Surely it wasn’t that easy for him to re-enter that old headspace.

Right?

The Earth stopped spinning the moment you saw him. It seemed like the man you talked to barely ten hours ago had left, replaced with a stranger you could hardly recognize.

Bucky was unconscious, his body restrained and bloodied as he was dragged along the floor with Steve on one side and Sam on the other to carry him upright. His entire tactile suit was lathered in crimson, the color consuming him entirely. Steve was seething, his face sweaty and flushed, the veins in his neck and along his forehead protruding in anger as he barked at everyone to move out of the way. Sam was no better, his frazzled state only partially concealed by the stony expression he wore. You were frozen solid, unable to process the scene unfolding in front of your face.

As the men came closer you realized that Sam wasn’t holding onto Bucky’s left arm, but instead his shaking hands gripped at the edge of his dripping red kevlar vest. Forcing your eyes to his side, you immediately understood why.

Bucky’s left arm was gone. The silver prosthetic looked as if it had been viciously ripped off, mere remnants of what it once was left in its place, frayed wires and bent gears protruding from the damaged shoulder. A horrified gasp left you. Just yesterday you were holding onto that same arm, and in the blink of an eye it was just… gone? No – no… surely you had fallen into some ultra-realistic nightmare. This couldn’t really be happening. It couldn’t possibly be Bucky that–

“Y/n? You need to breathe.” A calm voice called to your side, a small hand pressing against yours.

It was Natasha. Her breaths were labored, yet no panic showed on her face. “He’s going to be–”

“Where are they taking him?” Your voice didn’t sound familiar, quiet and trembling with an uneasiness that hardly found you. Her hand squeezed down on yours, trying her best to steer you away from the full blown panic attack that was creeping up your spine.

You watched uneasily as they took him away, Tony, Bruce, Helen, and Clint jogging after them with loud stomps. Your feet were quick to follow – only to be hindered by Natasha’s hand to your chest. “Going after them now will do you no good. I’ll wait with you until we know more.”

Grinding down on your teeth, you hesitated. Screw waiting. But you knew she was right. Steve wouldn’t allow you to come anywhere near Bucky if what they said happened truly occurred. Reluctantly, you let Natasha guide you back inside and to the main floor living room.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

By the time any updates arrived, your fingernails were halfway chewed off, your leg bouncing up and down furiously from adrenaline. It had been hours since the boys came back, the sun now far below the horizon, a deep, unsettling dusk settling over the sky. Allowing your gaze to drift to the large window panes, you noticed how the stars were hiding tonight, protected by a sea of charcoal black clouds. Maybe they too were afraid of Bucky after seeing the violent acts he committed earlier.

Steve sauntered into the room, his eyes immediately finding yours as you stood up all too quickly. A breath lingered in your throat, waiting for him to speak.

“Bucky is going to be alright. He’s shaken and a little confused, but Dr. Cho has him stable.” Steve offered, barely getting the words out before you started in on the million questions inside your head.

“What the hell happened out there, Steve?” Sitting around for hours did nothing to calm you, tearing you apart little by little instead. “Simple recons don’t look like that.” You pointed a finger to the middle of the Compound, still having no idea where they took Bucky.

Steve’s head dropped, his hand coming to rub against his temple. “Fury and I were wrong. The place wasn’t abandoned — and it wasn’t just any old facility either. It was an old Hydra base…”

Your body seemed to shrivel under his voice.

You knew what was coming next.

“Please don’t tell me they–”

A single look from the man was all the confirmation you needed.

“It happened so fast… I couldn’t get Bucky out in time before they… before they started playing it over the intercoms. After he heard the first word — he looked at me with so much fear, and the next second he looked at me like he had no fucking clue who I was.” He took a deep breath, poorly attempting to cover the quiver in his voice. “We tried to get him out. But they had traps and guards started coming for us and… after Bucky stopped swinging at Sam and I he went straight for them. I couldn’t do anything but watch…”

He shifted back and forth, clearly not wanting to relive the events of earlier. “Then his arm… he got caught in a doorway and I had no choice.”

Your body swayed from the weight of this newfound information, Natasha getting up to stabilize you and move you back to the couch before your legs gave out. Tears pricked at your tired eyes, and you felt entirely helpless. One of your closest friends just had to relive decades worth of trauma because of a stupid mission gone wrong. It seemed unfathomable. No other mission, Hydra or not, had been this catastrophic for Bucky.

“When can I see him?” You feared the answer Steve would give.

“I’m not exactly…”

Steve’s words died in his throat as a gentle knocking came from behind him. The three of you simultaneously picked your heads up, eyes darting to the source.

Stepping out from behind the doorway was a tall man, his deep brown eyes soft and his expression calm and collected. The dark burgundy of his pants matched that of his wrinkle-free jacket, intricate gray detailings sewn in across the chest. It wasn’t anyone you recognized, yet he seemed oddly familiar. His voice drifted inside the room, smooth and precise.

“Captain — I just got off the phone with Shuri. They are ready whenever you are.”

PART ONE PLAYLIST

🌟Songs that have inspired this series 🌟

— April 10, 2019: Powehi - Image of a Black Hole

By Sleeping at Last

— Where We Landed

By SYML

— Atom 1

By Sleeping at Last

— Hold me Tight

By Berlinist

— Sunshine (Adagio in D Minor)

By John Murphy

I recommend listening to the songs in order as shown above. A master playlist will be linked at the end of the series.

Spotify Link to the Chapter One Playlist

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #tcoabh #the complexities of a black hole #thepsychewrites

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nightofnyx8 · 4 months

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Thank you for tagging me @roseofbattles!

Greatest Hits of 2023

1. I got my first real job as a teacher! After about 100 applications and thirty or so failed interviews (that was fun eight months of doubting everything about myself), I was finally hired on as the choir and orchestra teacher at a nearby middle school. It has been such a whirlwind (especially seeing as I only took about six weeks of string essentials in college), and I have spent many long days crying at my desk after school. But oh, how I love my kids. They drive me crazy and crack the weirdest jokes and amaze me all at the same time. It's been a lot trying to breathe life into a dying program and I get a lot of pushback from kids who just want to sing pop karaoke all day, but they've grown so much in just one semester. It's crazy exhausting but I honestly would never want to do anything else. <3

2. Reading-I've fallen in love with audiobooks and reading real books again! I've gotten to read a variety of genres and I really feel like it's improved my writing. My favorite this year would probably have to be Eye of the Needle by Ken Follet (thanks to @puolain for the recommendation). I'm currently working through The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy and Red Sparrow by Jason Matthews.

3. Travel- I had the opportunity to go to NYC for the first time ever and met some really wonderful friends! I really haven't been able to go anywhere else, but my husband and I are saving up to go to Spain in the coming months!

4. Writing-I've been delving more into chaptered fics as opposed to one-shots, and I'm been enjoying it! It takes a lot more planning and dedication, but that urge to write an original work someday is always on the back of my mind. We'll see :)

5. Piano-I've never been the best pianist, but this year has given me time to really go from the plateau I've been stuck on for the last five years and I finally feel like I'm making some progress again. I'm excited to actually start accompanying my choirs instead of faking it with block chords most of the time.

6. I've really built up my private voice studio this year and it's growing quite nicely. It's kind of fun to teach middle schoolers during the day and then private high schoolers in the afternoon.

7. I was invited to join a semi-professional choir by a few of my colleagues, and it's been such a joy! We've gotten to sing at some beautiful cathedrals and were invited to sing at our state's choral festival alongside some collegiate choirs. Next season's looking to be pretty busy, and the first year we'll be paid to sing!

8. I had to do a lot of first-time "grown-up" things this year (apply for insurance and retirement, bought a new car, first time with a salary-based job, etc), and while part of me longs for that safety net of college, it's exciting to actually start my career and begin the next stage of my life.

9. I've been Journaling a lot more this year! It really helps me get my thoughts out at the end of the day.

10. My husband and I will be celebrating our three-year annivesary in May. He is such a nerd and likes to take me on walks to see exposed infrastructure, but he is such a good man and I'm excited to see where life takes us next.

Bonus: I'm hoping to really be kind to myself and my students in 2024. Being a new teacher is very overwhelming, especially as I'm the youngest teacher in the school and it's been hard not to beat myself up over every bad day. But next year also holds the promise of always learning something new and sharing it with the people I love <3

tagging @whateversawesome @klainelynch @neejmorp @puolain @wondrousmay and whoever else wants to do it <3

#personal

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pumpkin-spike18 · 8 months

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✨Weekly Progress #34-36✨

Finally taking the time to do a writeup...! Um, what did I do 3 weeks ago...?

Weekly Progress #34

Prepped for Spooktober

Drafted & posted Post Mortem for VF game

Wrote 1k words for BWOBK

Sketched new SYVNH sprites

This was three weeks ago haha... I really have no idea what to talk about. It's been quite a whirlwind for me the past two weeks.

This should be the last sprite I need to make for SYVNH. I still have a lot of art and a good amount of things to revise before I'm done with this project, but... it's weird to think that it is coming to an end.

Weekly Progress #35

Made a base outline for detective story

Wrote 8.1k words for Spooktober

I've been (re)playing so much Ace Attorney the past few weeks. Phoenix Wright were the first visual novels I played as a kid. Someday, I do want to make a mystery/detective VN, but... I lack the confidence. For fun, I made some basic mystery outlines for a AA doujin idea, but I don't think that'll come to fruition for a while.

And then... Spooktober has started and taken over my life!

This year I'm working with @4noki-vns again, but this time as a co-writer! She had proposed a summary of the idea a couple months ago for a death game genre story based on Chinese mythology regarding Meng Po Soup. I loved the idea so much and I'm so glad it'll be a real project release this October!

Weekly Progress #36

Started reviewing Spooktober script

Wrote 9.7k words for Spooktober

More spooktober writing! 😝 To get myself to write faster, I made myself finish whole major scenes before I'm allowed to play more AA or read any more WrightWorth fanfics. That really lit a fire under my butt, haha...

I had originally planned to finish writing in 10 days (optimistic), 15 days (realistic), or 22 days (worst case).

I finished in 9. ✌💀

#vnlink #visual novel #indiedev #vndev #syvnh #tfpis #spooktober

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ahundredtimesover · 20 hours

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Mimi, oh my god, Mimi, what did you just put me through?😭

In all honesty, it was a terrible day. The thrice in a year sort of terrible day, and the mere notification on my phone reassured me. I had something to look forward to, and I can't express just how much I feel better by reading this.

That aside, OH MY GOD WHAT THE HELL??? The tension that had been growing so thick was just set loose like a whirlwind in this chapter. Oh my god, everything - I'm literally rendered speechless. I can barely form the words rn because oh my god did they just kiss? YES THEY DID😭😭💗🫶 The way I cried out loud when Jungkook finally decided to talk to Y/n. I was soo happyyy and relieved and tbh, I was beyond the stars and moon when I read what followed. The subtle teasing from Jungkook literally blew my mind, and I have solemnly commited it all to my memory and saved it all so that I can read it over and over and over again. And the kiss, oh my my, it was literally fire. It set loose all the desperation I had been feeling, and put me on cloud nine. I loved, loved, loved it. I can't express enough just how happy I am😭🫶

And also, the way the story finally clicked into place after Mr.Ri's confession. His story is so tragic, and in a way, the ultimate declaration of deep and unconditional love that he feels for Y/n's mom. It was such a beautiful story - heart-achingly so. Everything that had been lurking was finally out for us to know, and the revelation was just so wonderfully done, Mimi. Hats off to you for writing such a climax, because your writing and storytelling is just *chef's kiss😭

I also love how particularly Jungkook understood Y/n and choose the decision to let go. Ultimately, love is letting go when the time calls for it. And you writing that in text just reminded of that, and was such a gentle nudge to our own reality that stands to face us outside all known comforts. I was crying every few lines😭 Like, quite literally. Today had been emotional and this fic just made me experience all of those emotions in more depth, and relieved me so much of that well known crippling anxiety. I can't thank you enough for that, Mimi.

I loved, loved the chapter, and I love how Y/n finally allowed herself to truly acknowledge her feelings. The last scene stood a reminder for that considering how she's not one of those who lets themself cry that easily. It was just so heartbreaking, but I love to think that Jungkook has caused this change of heart in her where she allows herself to truly feel things for what they are, and what gravity those emotions hold. Just as Y/n allows Jungkook to do the same. I love their understanding of each other, and how they are the same when it comes to these thing but still willing to subject themselves to change, all for the sake for their feelings for the other person.

It's truly wonderful to see this change in both of them, and seeing how far they've come.

And I'm so heartbroken for Jungkook, knowing he will hate to let Y/n out of his radar, but he will do it all the same for her sake. It's just so tragically beautiful to see him like that, so down bad for her. The way he's down bad for her tho, lol. I'd swear all hell will be set loose at some point in the fic once again (or more *fingers crossed), like it did in the kiss scene, hehe. It's just so satisfying to see him break like that. I live to read that, I swear.

Well, that's enough of a rant and I hope you have had a great week so far. Don't pressurize yourself too much, as I sense that you're quite the person to push yourself. Take care of yourself and pat yourself for all that you do everyday - even the tiniest tasks.

You have me whipped for this beauty of a fic you've written, Mimi🤍

Hii I'm sorry this is late. And the fact that I didn't get to reply considering you had a bad day. I'm sorry you did but I'm glad that the chapter gave you a bit of joy. I hope you're feeling much better now! ☺️☺️

And yay. I did hope that the chapter would make people go through a whirlwind of emotions! I mean, JK went from teasing to being down so bad and then... yeah. We at least got to see that side of him!

As for Mr Ri, tragic is the right word. It's one of those times where either choice he made would've hurt him regardless, as if he was fated for that life. But I'm glad the revelation had that impact! Literally that storyline just came to me one day and it ended up being such a core aspect of the plot. Thank you for liking it!! 😊

Jungkook has caused this change of heart in her where she allows herself to truly feel things for what they are, and what gravity those emotions hold - this is such a good point! We know that OC doesn't like feeling all that much. Sure, she's kind and warm but a lot of times, it's all towards others, it's like her defence mechanism so that she doesn't share herself. And JK is making her feel all these intense emotions. It's just that she doesn't know what to do with them, just like JK. But still, we'll see how it's really not easy for either of them to manage it. I think that'll be the heartbreaking part that we'll see in ch12.

This was so lovely to read. I'm glad you've enjoyed it. And yes, I do pressure myself a lot haha but it pushes me to write something worth sharing and I'm just happy you like it! Thank you so much for dropping by!! 💕💕

#mimianswers #fic: iwyts

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illusionsofdreaming · 1 year

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hey, it's owhda. how have you been? it's a little bit sad to see no updates on tumblr from you(I mean any, even just a talk) but that just mean there's something else going on in your life and I sincerely hope it's something good. I didn't really know you much but I really thought that you could be a good friend to have. So.. could we get a glimpse into your life? How's your work? What are you interested in right now?

Hello, hello! It's so nice to see some familiar faces still hanging around this dusty blog! I've missed interacting with you both and Tumblr in general, it's very humbling to know people are reminded of me from time to time. I guess now is as good a time as any to post a little update on what's been going on in my life, how that's affected my writing and what I've got planned for the blog in the coming future. For those who wish to skip the chatter, tldr; I'm hanging on, this will blog will remain online and I do have plans to continue writing.

Let’s see… where do I even begin? Shortly after May, I’ve received an exciting notice - I was promoted! It’s a goal I’ve been working on for some time so it was quite satisfying to hear the news. Since then it’s been a whirlwind of activities - trying to juggle my new responsibilities and manage my own team took some time getting used to. I’ve worked solo for so long it was difficult to be the ‘leader’. In fact - I still am uncomfortable being one, but I’m starting to get the grasp of it.

I’ve been traveling for work as well and in these few months have been to Japan and UK. Both trips where I fell severely ill because my weak body can’t cross countries without making complaints and making me feel my age. Oh. And I finally got Covid in November which really laid me low for at least 2 weeks.

I realise my health’s been taking a hit lately. Perhaps its the stress of having more work on my plate and being in a new position but I’ve been getting sick more easily. I’m currently recovering from a throat infection that I got from my UK trip as I write this - so fun times.

So yeah.. it’s been a lot of paperwork, electronic work, a lot of self reflection and remoulding of myself to my real life that really put writing on the back burner. I always wrote at night after work but nowadays I don’t even have the energy for that. If I’m not dead asleep by the time I’m done with work then some infection, flu or cold will get me.

…and the longer I don’t touch my writing the less I wish to open my WIPs because I have a silly, irrational fear that I no longer write the same way I use to - either I’ve deteriorated or my style’s changed. It’s silly.

Good news is that, I think I’ve finally found my pace, my new position is no longer ‘new’ but the norm and I’m slowly finding ways to carve out my own personal time in my new schedule. Which is why I’ve decided to tackle this issue today. To be honest, it’s been a while since I wrote anything fictional, but I’m planning on slowly working through the writing blocks that have built up due to my neglect. I’ve bought 2 new books during my trip in UK so that’s a step in the right direction right?

As some of my older followers would know and recognise by now, I do tend to go through highs and lows when it comes to activity on this blog. It often reflects what’s going on in my personal life haha. But lately, the creative bug that has been out of energy seemed to have been slightly rejuvenated - my habits of hyperfixating on creative mediums is rearing its head again so I know it’ll only be a matter of time before I’m itching to write again.

About what..? TCF is still on my mind but not as much as before since it’s been some time since I last read its chapters. Lately I’ve been reading Absolute Sword Sense and am keeping up with its chapters so far. I’ve yet to get the newest Fire Emblem game and have been doing great avoiding any and all spoilers so far - but I’m pretty sure it’ll be going on my list of series I’ll write for in the future.

My health issues are to be tackled another day because I’m frankly, quite tired of taking meds.

As for where I wish to take the blog… hmm.. that’s really a tough decision because I’ve never really had a clear goal in mind when it comes to this blog. It was just a great space to share my thoughts on fandoms and interact with likeminded people. I don’t think I’ll be opening requests for a while since I’ve got a huge backlog of WIPs to work on. I suppose I could attempt to keep the blog less.. dead? Not sure how I’ll go about it though.

Anyways.. that’s about it. Terribly sorry for the word vomit, I hope everyone's been doing well and enjoying your life! If it seems I'm a bit dead without updates, it's usually because there aren't any chatter related inboxes haha. So is this illu's call for random stories to be dropped in their mail? Yes.

#chatter #owhda #ineshapanda #mikachuchu #updates #life #blog stuff #illu is doing great #hope everyone is as well #thanks for checking up on lil me ;w;#made me feels #lots #-cries-

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ashwithapen · 3 months

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the results from the badly summarised WIP poll are in...

and the winning vote was for option #3:

queer kid has 2 year long mental breakdown and will not stop writing about it

which won with 7 of the 17 votes cast! thank you to everyone who voted!

the WIP in question was tales, second edition, which is written as journal entries from a 17/18-year-old as they reflect on time as it passes. below the cut is the promised snippet! (it's actually quite a lot ehehe, enjoy!! <3)

[12] there are stop signs in the city.

this morning i had a dentist’s appointment. it took far too long, but that’s cause the girl cleaning my teeth was obviously new. she scratched my gums until they bled, and in my head, while i was lying there, i thought up what’d i’d say if she brought up my eyes watering slightly. apparently i have this thing where when i lay down, i get really weepy.

after, on the way back home to drop my sister, i was nearly in tears. it felt like i was going to shut down or something, my head resting against where the window met the car door. at a turning, i sat up and was met with a bright red stop sign in brilliant condition. i think i’d been thinking, “someone save me”, and then, like an echo almost, i heard three voices read the word stop. i could tell you who, but i think i’d like to keep that private a little while longer.

it was crazy, i thought, but undeniably on-brand. i was heading to my father’s office after my sister was dropped off to work on my psychology paper due an hour from when i’m writing this. all because i couldn’t handle a dentist’s appointment, i would fall apart and shut down in my dad’s office space, and i’d mess my grade up, and then none of the universities would take me. i applied last week and i’ve received three offers already. and all because of a dentist’s appointment, i could feel my future slipping away all over again.

i’ve been thinking about it since school started back, how this’ll be my “last time” doing so many things. last first term pre-uni, last halloween. last christmas show pre-uni, last independence day. last christmas as a child, last new years. getting the first offer from plymouth with a condition of grades i’ve already been meeting was basically being handed the golden ticket. i would be free to go. no matter if everywhere else told me to bugger off, i could leave. freedom.

i’ve been thinking about it since that sleepover a few months ago at my friend’s house. his brother, two years above us, was away at college for his second year, so i was sleeping in his room. it was so empty, much emptier than it was when he lived there full-time. just the scaffoldings of his livelihood still pinned to the walls and tidied into the corners, waiting for his eventual return. i wondered that night how my room would look without me in it, how the dust would totally coat everything, how the window panes might just fall out, how the haphazardly hung stars, lights, flags, and calendars might all come falling down in my absence. would it forget the smell of me? the warmth of my skin, tears, breaths, and the cold of my blasting AC? the familiarity of my motions, the sound of my alarm clock, the care embedded in my mannerisms?

i keep hoping that i’ll be right once more and uni will be how i anticipate, calculations scrawled like a whirlwind must have tunnelled through across the whiteboard. surely i will be able to work like it was spain, and surely the meds will still work, and surely i’ll wear hoodies, and wear my hair out, and wear my shoes thin. i’ll have time and accommodations and a chance. i’ll make new friends who i don’t need to explain myself or my loves to. hell, i’ll hug them and touch them and call them my family and call just to tell them i love them.

i worry that i’m wrong, too. i worry that nothing in the world will change and i’ll still be 13 and dumb as high hell. i’ll still be the outcast, more firmly than ever. i’m too much, even for my own breed. i write about the wrong things, and i love the wrong people, and i care about the wrong things, and i love the wrong places. i’m too different for normal, too normal for different. i’ve spent a whole childhood diligently walking the same rope that the acrobats must train decades to master—quite literally the balancing act of a lifetime.

it’s always been such a fine line, hasn’t it? always one pill away from a heart attack, one cut away from my last, one point away from a pass, always one grade away from a graduation, always one dentist appointment away from university. i heard three people say ‘stop’ and i felt something there, what i don’t know. i’ve forgotten. there are stop signs in the city, blindingly bright red and somehow i don’t heed their advice, choosing instead to fall and fall and fall, like a different acrobat, legs twisted in billowing silks. i do not know—and will not know—if i meant to fall until i reach the end of the rope, but i cannot stop now—and whether it's out of fear or some unbidden drive, i have no clue.

[13] there are murals on the walls of my mind.

i think that maybe i’ll be a philosopher. or a psychologist, like freud, i believe is how his name is spelt. similarly, i believe his whole thing was he didn’t prove his ideas. but just as i can’t ever look up how to spell his name, i can’t google his tendencies. still, i think i’m right about that—just don’t ask me why i’m right, because i won’t have anything other than more unsourced thoughts to spew.

so i watched a movie, “good will hunting”, and now i must think i’m the most pretentious person ever. not because i am (unless i am), and more because i’m so inclined to think like that blonde boy, to string together sources. there was a moment where i realised that not everybody, hell, a lot of people probably don’t relate to will. i do—not all the way, but i do. ever been pushed so hard or pushed away? ever been so cautious or conscious of yourself that you learn how to talk and talk and talk like your words can be a deterrent? ever known something so intrinsically, like maths, like words? ever said “i know” and known that yes, but on a deeper level, no? i think i’m the most pretentious person ever.

so i’ve been writing these essays for school recently. well, really, i’ve been writing one for maybe 9 months, but with how many times the title has changed, it’s only been half that. one’s about the link between autism and gender identity—a phrase i type in my sleep these days—and the other is about sociology, psychology, theatre, and video entertainment, and the rate at which trends are taken up. thrilling stuff across the board, i know. they are the easiest, hardest essays i’ve ever had to write. and the part that makes it so hard? that the people with the influence haven’t gotten around to studying my learned truths.

somewhat so similarly, i’ve had to, over the last year, write music for school. i’ve never had formal training when it comes to technique, but i gotta feelin’, ya know?—in that horrible “movie star from a different pay grade” accent, ya know? and they ask me to explain myself. i’ve done nothing wrong, but more so i’ve done something good, and none of them understand how i managed to get from A to C without sparing even so much as a glance at B.

in english, there’s a term called “parataxis”. i don’t remember the real meaning of it, but i tell it to myself “if it feels like there’s a comma here that only you and people similarly ridiculous would have put there, then it’s parataxis”. and how i came to this conclusion? i guessed as much with a raised hand back in september, and my teacher said something like “pretty much”, then said, “you do it a lot”. i’d have gladly played russian roulette with the odds that some limb i went out on stylistically as a fanfiction author was a real “technique”.

there were some times that i’ve been reminded of recently from when i was 10 or 11 years old, back at the end year of elementary school. (funny how my mind would take me back there now as i end high school.) once i made up a language on the spot because i couldn’t remember how i’d proofed a maths sum on a test and got accused of copying because of it, and then of lying for not owning up. second, i was afterschool talking with my teacher, and with some unknown, forgotten context, she posed that she’d rather be home than dealing with the situation at hand. she asked, “wouldn’t you rather be at home too?” and in my young wisdom, i stayed quiet, like how i should have done maybe countless times prior to that moment. i shook my head or shrugged eventually, and my teacher said, “what, you don’t know if you’d rather be at home or at school?” this time i definitely shook my head. i didn’t know.

so i’m turning 18 in two weeks, give or take. i’m scared to count how many days exactly. i’ve also got mock exams for the next two weeks, give or take. i’ve also got covid again.

so i’ve been wondering recently, like nietzsche probably used to, about whether or not i’m right. more deeply, i’ve been wondering if i’m real. i don’t know though, maybe i’m just feeling pretentious again. but i hear people in my head.

i don’t want people to read this, like how i imagine they will, and think that i was crazy. not to be insensitive, but sometimes i wish i were. then maybe i could consider existentialism from the comfort of my own holding cell.

“it’s not your fault.”

i’ve been thinking about that too recently, all the things i don’t remember from back then and back before and the other day and so on. i don’t know what, but there’s a piece of a puzzle missing under a sofa somewhere and a child’s fingers are an inch too short to reach it, so it is lost and forgotten, much like my life. just out of reach. i wonder, from the comfort of my own holding cell, if maybe the puzzle never existed in the first place. i haven’t had a good night’s sleep since before i was born, and i mean it. i died when i tasted oxygen, my brain was secluded and tubed and set down in a test lab where today it has sweet dreams about writing books about itself and hearing company within itself. what a strange, twisted, demented little thing you are.

have you ever seen picasso’s self-portraits? well, i hate to be the one to tell you, but it was me. i did them all. i saw a different person every time i thought about myself until there were 13 separate renditions of my life story. i pity them all, every sad-eyed abstract thought that went too far. i loved them hedonistically, fucked them till they bore the sweetest fruit, then scraped off their skins and devoured them and spat out their seeds like they couldn’t dare to grow anew. i made faces in the face of aliens, the whole human race of them, and in return i got broken mirrors, showing me these faces that aren’t quite me but who have my brain and my beautiful eyes.

when’s the foot dropping? it’s gotta be any day now.

i’m waiting i’m waiting i’m waiting i’m waiting i’m waiting i’m waiting i’m waiting i’m waiting i’m waiting i’m waiting i’m waiting

interlude g “the drop”

the feeling of an avalanche spilling over, tumbling helplessly down the mountainside. the feeling of the highest drop on a rollercoaster, your stomach up by your heart, your heart up in your throat, only now, i do not dare laugh.

she wishes me good luck. gracias. i think what a dumb thing, but it’s the hour now where the only thing left for me is dumb, good luck.

interlude h “sophia”

yesterday my friend was involved in a home invasion. the six men tied her, her brother, and her dad’s pregnant girlfriend up. her dad was killed. her brother was kicked. she was nearly raped. she was supposed to go away to study in milan this year, but when i texted her ipad (they took her phone), she told me she’s putting everything on hold until next year, even though we’ve only been in this year for short of three weeks. i asked her and she told me she’s still seeing the same therapist as me. she’s got a session on tuesday the 23rd. i asked where she was staying and she said that she wasn't allowed to say anything. there’s 24-hour security. her and her brother are going to be smuggled out of the country soon. they were supposed to be killed too, but the bandits didn’t follow through. i’m not sure i’ll ever see her face-to-face again. i’m not sure where she’s going, if she’ll go to america or come back here.

i thought about how much she changed my life. how i met her when we were 12, how she taught me the word gay, how she and i bore similar hand-crafted engravings in our skin at a time, how we planned her wedding in greece once, how we chased her dog down the beach the last time i saw her, a year a 21 days ago.

in other news, i turn 18 in 4 days. wednesday the 24th.

interlude i “gently”

i’ve not felt myself for a while, a sluggish embodiment of displacement. a presently ongoing, everlasting simmer that sighs great washes of hot vapour, condensation sticking faux-delicately to my ruined pink cuticles, and every exhalation is of insurmountable mourning: never enough.

to what do i owe the pleasure of this unannounced, unexpected visit? to which god must i bow so lowly? what charm of luck has been bestowed upon me that i should respire between walls of wallowing and beneath this ceiling so limited? a child’s becoming, a martyr’s martyrdom. at this end, i see for me my ever beloved cold; ice melting into deep brown irises, freezing my gaze upon this future.

every thrash drags my dejection further down. every breath of hope serves to suffocate, stuck in the wooden body hanging there in the windowsill, spinning the poor thing in a way so unbecoming that it almost makes me envy it. a life cut down thoughtlessly. caught by the earth’s cold, smothered by the darkness, embraced by such resignation. if i am to be something so estranged, then let it encompass me. let it swallow my brightness, stars blinking out endlessly across the whole universe. let it become me. let me be estranged. let me be slowly forgotten as the first child’s laugh, as the first lovers’ night, as the first mother’s grief, as the first dead’s eulogy.

i will become what i have never dared to, so long as my flesh is still warm.

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