#but listen i poured my soul into this one minute

[konfizry]

You know what, fuck it. Konishi talking about his favorite line, but it's (poorly) subbed in French

(you can check out the whole event by clicking the link on Darkhymns' post; this particular bit is from part 05)

[hunnylagoon]

Take Me to War

PT1 Friendly Fire

Streamer! Ellie Williams x reader

A writer, I think is someone who pays attention to the world. We are observers, it is in our nature to be off-putting and turn shallow things deep.

Premise: Your neighbour is becoming increasingly loud and you decide to do something about it.

PT 2 Here!

Two things I hate the most?

My neighbour and New York City.

They shared something in common, they never rest. I liked my quiet life in my small town until I was convinced that all of the greatest writers lived in the city, what a joke. I sold my virtue to move to New York and now my body burned with the shame of not belonging.

I worked as a journalist and in advertisement but it didn't fill the gaping mass that consumed me, I felt like a sellout so I quit to do freelance, and now I feel like even more of a sellout. Freelance is making me think that I hate ghostwriting more than I hate my neighbour and New York City.

It's like you do all of the work and get zero reward but I'm desperate to pay the bills and all that stuff I've been telling myself all my life 'I may never be a rich man but the rich man will never have me' well, the rich man most certainly had me. I was paid an almost criminal amount of money to pour my soul into art just for it to get stamped beneath a new name and make a gross income six times the size of what I sold it for.

I look for happiness everywhere but I do not find it. I search for it in things everyone seems to pry joy from; I go clubbing, walk in Central Park, and date around, but happiness doesn't seem to exist there for me.

I plead for it in my morning cups of tea with a spoonful of honey, the sunshine glittering in a puddle after a rainstorm, for a brief moment, it flickers in the light of my cinnamon-scented candle. The truth is I am almost comforted by my sadness and it is in my lowest moments that my creations are the most beautiful, it is like I am dead and I despise those who aren't for I enjoy the company of my silence more than anyone I have ever met.

It was my dream for my name to be above 'New York Times Best Selling Author' but instead, it is just my work beneath it and maybe that's why I'm so bitter.

Right now as I am trying to salvage the bits and pieces I was given by a washed-up pop star for her memoir my neighbour is screaming and laughing incoherently in their apartment, it makes me miss living in an actual house.

The noise usually started up when I would finish up my writing and get ready for bed, then it would go all the way through the night. The dumb fucker probably threw parties every single night; my roommate never faced an issue with this as she worked at a club and was usually working when the deafening noises would begin.

I on the other hand who lived in that apartment and worked from that apartment was always cursed to listen to the random thumps and spats of laughter that sounded all through the night. At least once a night when I'm sound asleep, I hear a bang against the wall and each time without fail, I'm brought awake with my heart thumping.

Trust me, I have retaliated.

On occasion when I'm sleep-deprived and at my absolute limit I'll bang on the walls, that only stops the noise for a minute. I've even complained to my landlord and that one week was heaven until it eased back to the clamour that I've almost grown used to.

Almost.

I still hate it.

I'm broken from my thoughts when my phone rings, it vibrates till it's almost at the edge of my desk and I feel for it; don't worry buddy, I wanna jump too. I read the caller ID and I almost wanted to gag, it was a woman from the publishing company who reached out to me and asked me to write Nicole Elliot's novel. Despite wanting to throw my phone against the wall to stop Noemi's constant checkups and get back at my neighbour while I'm at it, I answer the phone "Hey, Noemi!" I glance out the window where the winter sun has long set, leaving nothing but billboards, street lamps and neon signs to light up the New York night. Under the unforgiving lights I can barely make out the gentle snowfall.

"Hey," She draws it out and I can hear in her voice that she is smiling "I know it's a little late, just checking in, how is the draft coming along?" A loud thump sounds against my wall along with intolerant cackling "What's that?"

"Just some street noise," I dismiss "Anyways, the draft is coming along great, I'm a couple thousand words away from finishing it. I will of course send it to you and I would really love it if you could reach out to Nicole and ask for her opinion on it before I carry on with the final copy," I give a middle finger to my wall, even if my neighbour can't see me, it makes me feel a little bit more formidable "I did follow her outline, which was difficult but I think I salvaged it pretty well."

This time there is a yelp from my neighbour and what sounds like someone slamming their hands down onto a table, Noemi thankfully ignores it "You haven't been in touch with Nicole?"

My eyebrows furrow "She hasn't responded to any of my emails and she's been turning down all of our scheduled Zoom calls, so no, I have not been in touch with her."

"Weird," Noemi comments and there is a brief break of silence between us "She's been M.I.A on our end too," I could hear her scribble something down. "So can you get the draft to me by Friday?"

Two days? If I lock myself inside and don't see the sun then I totally can "Absolutely!" I do work better under a deadline.

"Great," She sounds almost relieved "We will hunt down Nicole, it would be nice to get her greenlight with this but whether or not she approves it, she has already signed off and it will be going to print."

"Okay," I fight the urge to respond with 'sick' or 'aight' because I'm an adult now and someone who is masquerading as a professional.

"Sorry, what was that you mentioned about an outline?" Noemi asks, she sounds more confused with each word "I wasn't aware Nicole made any-

She is swiftly cut off by a crash from the other side of my wall, when I say crash I mean it. It sounded like someone just bodied their car into drywall. My eyes went wide as I saw a crack splitting up my once pristine white wall. I hold my phone against my collarbone as I get up and pound my fist against the wall, giving it a kick for extra measure.

"Is everything alright?"

"Certainly," The nice thing about phone calls is that the person on the other end can't see your awkward habits or subtle outbursts (Or neighbours breaking through your shared wall). After I hit the wall, everything went silent for just a second before laughter sounded heavily from multiple people. "Noemi, thank you for sourcing me out to write this, I am really grateful for this opportunity I will send you that draft on Friday." I try to wrap up the call but she speaks up.

"Well, I've read your work and I was very impressed, I trust you will do well with this. Sorry to have called you so late-

"Thanks, have a nice night now!" I'm talking faster than I can even think, the only thing in my head is the fact that my neighbour is slowly deteriorating my wall.

"Wait-

Before Noemi can finish her sentence, I've hung up the phone. I'm leaning back in my cushy office chair, hands gripping my hair as I stare down the newly formed crack in the wall. I don't entirely like to be confrontational, even in school I hated drama, but I was beginning to think it was necessary.

I saved the progress I had made on the memoir and pushed myself up from my desk. I was clad in nothing more than a t-shirt and some plaid pants, it was my writing attire and in the moment I didn't care much to make a good first impression. It was fucking freezing the second I got up from my desk.

The moulding on my bedroom window was broken which allowed the frigid New York air to slip into my room and make me shiver with each breath. At my desk, I would usually have a throw blanket to shroud my freezing body but the moment I discarded it, I felt regret. I almost wanted to wrap myself in it to confront my neighbour but the pyjamas alone didn't help me look tough.

I did however shove my feet into some cow slippers and march right up to their apartment.

Apartment 2D stood in front of me, the pastel blue door making me angrier with every second that I looked at it. I rapped my knuckles on the wood and crossed my arms to stop me from shuddering.

My nerves built up as I slowly heard a door within the apartment shut followed by footsteps leading to the door. I would just ask them politely to quiet down and calmly work on a way to fix the shared wall that they are slowly ruining.

The door opens and staring me down is a woman. I had expected it to be a man to be truthful. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, the colour teetered on the verge of auburn and brown. The woman is clad in a black tank top and grey sweatpants, it's almost parallel to my outfit.

"You need to be quiet," I say the first words that come to mind "And stop assaulting my fucking wall."

She sucks a sharp breath through her teeth "Are you apartment 3D?" She asks to which I nod "I knew you would be stopping by soon." She has this sheepish and almost sardonic smile on her face and despite the amusement she's portraying I can see sadness brewing in her green eyes like a storm.

"I don't know what you're doing in there where you are up all night, I don't even have a clue how you sleep and work with all this time to spare to be a nuisance." I say and then swiftly feel the urge to backtrack "I'm sorry, that was a little rude, but mate, I can't sleep or work when you're being loud doing whatever you do."

"Fuck," She mutters looking back into her apartment and then at me "I'm sorry, I'll keep it down."

"What about the wall?"

Her eyes look me up and down, settling on my cow slippers "I'll find someone to fix the wall."

I press my lips tight together, looking dead into her eyes, scraping my brain for something else to say. It was almost like I wanted to fight. I had expected this to be a full-out conversation that ended in yelling but god she was pretty and she was telling me just what I wanted. "Okay."

"Okay?"

I regard her once more with what I assume is a cold glare before ushering back into my apartment and slamming the door behind me, the whole time, my neighbour watches me from her doorway.

That was the first night of uninterrupted sleep I'd had in a month.

-

I woke up earlier than I would've liked when my roommate Margot came home from work at 4:56 on the dot. She made sure to slam every single door and cupboard before throwing herself onto her bed in all of her makeup and musty clothes that had to endure whatever happens at a nightclub between the hours of 8 pm and 4 am, which I can't imagine is very clean.

Still, even though I was a little ahead of schedule I fell into my morning routine. It started with ignoring my phone, this was followed by a mug of Bengal spice tea with a teaspoon of honey and a splash of cream.

Sometimes I would curl up on the couch, though it snowed last night and I loved fresh snow. Freshly fallen snow absorbed sound, it was like soundproofing for the earth. There wasn't anything like the rare peace you could find in New York. I figured I would have my morning tea on the fire escape.

My peaceful image was destroyed the second I pried my window open and crawled through I was hit with the intense smell of pot. "Shit," I mutter, instinctively wafting the scent away from my nose.

"Sorry, man," I see my neighbour leaning against the railing of the fire escape, nursing a joint. It hadn't crossed my mind that I shared a level of the fire escape with her, I had never seen her out here but now the smell of weed that drifted through the damaged moulding on my window made sense, I had always assumed it to be Margot.

"Joint for breakfast?" I ask, half-joking. A dusting of powdery snow adorns each step and railing, creating a delicate layer of white that contrasts with the industrial gray of the metal though it looks like my neighbour has pushed all of the snow off the platform.

"Nah, for dinner I guess, it helps me sleep," She's in the same outfit from last night, except her hair is now loose around her face and she threw a hoodie over her tanktop.

I furrow my eyebrows "You've been up all night?" The slight tension from the previous night has dissolved completely.

"Yeah," She says it like it was a stupid question and it partially was but I hadn't stayed up that late since New Year only because I was the designated driver and was in charge of getting everyone home safe. "I don't sleep much, that's probably why I keep you up all night."

I mean, I'd let her keep me up in other ways "Honestly, I've gotten used to it, it's almost like white noise." I try to sympathize even if it isn’t necessarily true.

"Next time I'm loud, you have every right to bang on my door and chew me out." She takes a drag from her joint and I watch as the smoke escapes her lips, her cheeks tinted pink from the cold.

"Good to know," I glance behind her at the open window and all I see are purple LED lights cutting through the darkness of her apartment. "Now I know that we share a fire escape I'll just crawl through your window and yell at you that way," I joke, taking a sip from my snoopy mug.

This makes her laugh in the slightest, she crushes what remains of her joint on the cold railing and tosses the bud into the pot of a dead plant that's covered in snow and has lived on this fire escape long before I moved in; one time I just about removed it but I felt bad, it's like I was evicting it from its rightful home "Feel free."

"Am I allowed to ask why you're up all night breaking the sound barriers?" I ask, pulling my fuzzy robe tighter around my body to fight the bitter air. "Are you the leader of a cult? Would it be better for the world in the long run if I push you right now?"

The corners of her lips curl up into a smile once again "You've figured me out, just know I've got some big plans with Koolaid," She plays into my teasing.

"It was flavour-aid, actually." I don't know why I said that.

"What the fuck is flavour-aid?"

"Koolaid basically," Silence stretches between us "So what do you actually do all night?"

"It's a bit complicated," She says, of course, it was complicated. "I work from home," She couldn't do something normal, she probably did voice acting or ran a podcast or some weird shit like that.

"Sick," Don't worry, I made myself cringe when I said that too "I work from home too."

"Yeah, you said something about work last night, are you in marketing?"

I shake my head "I'm a writer," every time I tell someone that, I feel a twinge of embarrassment. I know it wasn't a noble career like my parents had hounded me over, but it felt noble to me. I had two absent parents and was raised by a pack of wolves, I would devour as much food as fast as I could because I didn't know when I would be eating next. I was far too emotional to be around all of the narcissists who preferred their own faces to my company, the only friend I had was the written word.

Since then I have been serving my soul up to strangers through word documents.

The thought makes me homesick for the arms that did not hold me and I truly expect my neighbour to make a mockery of me, the way others have. The way they've told me 'It's a tough industry but hang in there!' and pat me on the back like I'm a hopeful child clinging to her mother's skirts.

"That's really cool," She smiles while she gazes out to the skyline, I can see her perfect side profile and ski-slope nose "I wanted to be a writer, I thought myself to be a poet, and then I thought myself to be a scientist and wanted to be an astronaut. Now, I'm here."

"Where's here exactly?"

"Working things out, figure it out as I go," She shrugs like she is unsure of her answer.

I think it's beautiful how everything around me has been touched by human hands and carries so much history. For a quick moment, my mind wonders to those who built this building, the calloused hands that crafted the iron railing and now my neighbour who was leaning against it. "What's the end goal with this whole freefall thing?"

"To make it out alive."

"And your name?"

"It's Ellie."

-

That night Ellie stuck to being quiet as she promised. The next night was a different story. I was so close to finishing the draft of Nicole Elliot's memoir and was praying that the deadline would pass with no issue.

However, the noise began again. I was coming around to like Ellie and I didn't want to go yell at her again so I shoved my headphones in and turned up my playlist as loud as I could. There is no song I can blast in my headphones to drown it out.

She did say that the next time I was loud I could come and chew her out, I wouldn't do that; I would just knock on her door and quickly tell her that she was being too loud, and then we would both carry on with our respective work.

I stopped in front of the smooth door and raised my hand to knock. Ellie slips the door open just a crack, when she sees that it's me she opens the door. "Hey, Ellie."

"Hello," She smiles "To what do I owe the pleasure?" She had a very nice smile.

We both know the circumstances of my visit but I spell it out anyway "Dude, you're way too loud, it's disruptive and I'm working under a deadline."

"I know, I'm sorry." She looks genuinely apologetic.

"I don't know any office job that needs you to scream for hours on end," Alright, that blows what could've been a simple visit where she apologizes and I leave, I always had to add on.

"Right, sorry," She carries herself with so much confidence that it is like she is wearing armour made of gold though she has these subtle awkward tendencies of someone who has never been loved and was forced to improvise. "It's hard to explain,"

"Yeah, you've said-

"Do you wanna come and see?"

I'm taken a little aback and for a minute I think this is all a ploy for Ellie to lock me in her her apartment and kill me because she is sick of her neighbour banging on her door "What?"

"Well, you've asked a couple of times and if you have a minute I can show you."

I pause, mauling over her proposal. I think of my laptop on my spruce desk, open to the final pages of the memoir and I make up my mind "Alright, just not too long."

"If you say so," Ellie opens the door wider for me to move past her and then shuts it behind us.

Ellie's apartment is what I had expected from her even though it is surprisingly nice. She has a large L-shaped sofa in the living room adorned with throw blankets and pillows and a huge flatscreen with a coffee table in front of it. The layout is exactly like mine but inverted, her open kitchen has some odd knick-knacks that looked like they belonged on an Amazon must-haves list.

I don't go into her bathroom and the door leading to one of the rooms (What is equivalent to Margot's bedroom) is shut. The apartment itself is pretty sparse aside from little bits and pieces as she only moved in a month prior.

On the left side, I see that purple LED spilling out of what I assume to be her bedroom.

She walks in ahead of me and the second I follow in after her there is one question I have to ask "Ellie, are you a porn-star?" There are entirely too many computers in here. Her desk is set up with one of those fancy triple-screen PCs and she has a laptop placed seemingly randomly on a white loveseat that's pressed against the right wall.

There is one of those galaxy lamps that projects that trippy shit onto your walls and ceiling. The screen of her PC is facing our shared wall and I can see a huge hole where I assume that a loud crash from the other night occurred. Plastered all over the walls are posters from video games and movies, many of which I hadn't seen.

"What?" She sounds nearly offended "No," she grabs a folding chair from the corner of the room and unfolds it beside her black florid office chair. She sits on the folding chair and motions for me to sit in the office chair. "Come, sit."

I hesitantly sit in the chair "Are you going to attack me now?" I ask, getting defensive for no particular reason other than it was in my nature "Because I've read The Outsiders and I'm pretty sure I can fight."

She chuckles "I'm not gonna fight you."

"Because I'd win?"

She furrows her eyebrows but has this look of amusement on her face "Yeah, definitely."

"So what is this?" I motion around at all of her equipment.

Ellie puts one earbud in then hand me the other "Chat," She says, looking dead at the camera clipped onto her PC "This is my neighbour who came to yell at me for being annoying, she has every right."

"Who are you talking to?"

"I'm streaming," She said, clicking something on the screen so it changed, instead showing Ellie and I in front of the camera, I looked absolutely lost next to a rolling chat bar full of jokes that I didn't understand and people saying hello to me.

"So I was right," I turn my attention to Ellie "You are an internet person."

"Yeah, I'm an internet person but you weren't right, I don't do porn."

"Not yet," I shrug "Times are desperate," To this, the chats come in even faster than before. "So do you just sit here all night and scream at people?"

"I play video games and do challenges, sometimes I do just sit here and scream at them."

"That makes so much sense," I say "If there's any job that needs you to be obnoxiously loud and annoying, it's a youtube personality."

"Okay, well-

"So you're like Logan Paul?"

Her eyes go wide "No-

"What explains why your eyes are so bloodshot."

"You are a writer," She says it like it's a fact I wasn't aware of "You are in no place to judge, you probably spend as much time in front of a screen as me."

I nod "I hate to say you're right," My attention shifts to the hole behind me "Can you explain how playing video games put a hole through the wall?"

Ellie looks almost embarrassed, she doesn't say anything in response, instead, she just clicks something to screen share with us in a little box in the corner and then goes into YouTube. She types in 'Ellie Williams falls through wall' My eyebrows furrow as I read it, and she clicks the first video that pops up.

The video starts off strong; Ellie is cackling at something that her friend off-camera is saying, her friend then makes a comment that makes her laugh even harder and she throws herself back in her chair. This act breaks it, you can hear the chair snap beneath the pressure and Ellie just lets it happen as the chair crashes against the wall. Her eyes go wide when she realizes she's just put a massive hole into the wall and seconds later you can hear me on the other side banging my hands on the wall. Her eyes go wide and she stares at her friend off-camera, all of the laughter stops abruptly before her friend can't hold it in anymore and erupts in chortles, and the video cuts off.

My hand flies over my mouth to fight back the laughter I so badly want to let out. Ellie and I sit wordlessly, the only sound being donations on the screen and my giggles slipping through. Eventually, I manage to compose myself and look to Ellie, I don't have much to say except for "Oh my god."

A/N: Streamer! Ellie won the poll so here we are. As I was drafting out the other chapters for When I Was Your Girl, I decided that it is most likely to be discontinued unless I do a rewrite which will not be in the near future. I’m not rocking with the plot and there was a lot of mixed feedback, sorry if you were invested I guess, but you have this series to be invested in now!

[heeliopheelia]

𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍'𝐒 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒 ☼

genre: fluff

word count: 2.6k

an: i'm sorry for the length (especially the sunoo's one), hope that makes up a little bit for my absence :))

masterlist

LEE HEESEUNG

You jog up the stairs to Heeseung's apartment, soaked to the bones from the pouring rain. You rush all the way up the staircase, teeth chattering as you spot your boyfriend already waiting for you with his door open.

"Oh my god, I'm freezing!" You whine out as you throw yourself on his neck, clinging to his body in a poor attempt to steal some of his body warmth.

Heeseung yelps at the feeling of your wet clothes and pulls you inside the apartment, kicking the door closed behind him and wrapping his arms around your waist.

"Are you crazy? How could you walk all the way here in a fucking downpour?" He scolds you halfheartedly, rubbing his arms up and down your body to help with warming you up.

"Wasn't my fault! It came down on me like halfway here," you mumble into his neck. "I missed you too much."

You can hear him chuckling and he pulls away from you, grabbing you by the hand and giving one last look at your sorry looking self.

"Come on, let's take care of it."

You let him lead you to his bedroom and you stand next to him patiently, waiting as he digs through his closet in an attempt to find his warmest clothes.

"Alright, these will do, I think," he says and tosses the items on his bed.

He stands right in front of you and leans down to help you tug your wet shirt up to put his hoodie over your head next. It takes you both a hot struggling minute to take the soaked jeans off your legs but after a while you succeed and tug on a pair of Heeseung's gray shorts. He reaches down and pulls on the strings to tighten them on your hips comfortably. You feel so content with the feeling of the wet clothes finally being replaced with the warm, your boyfriend-scented ones.

"Thanks," you say and smile up at him, raising to your tiptoes to press a loving kiss to his jawline.

"You're very welcome," he responds, lips stretching out in a wide smile as well. He wraps his arms around your middle and pulls you closely to his chest before leaning down to meet his lips with yours.

PARK JAY

With a playful scowl, you shove Jay gently with your elbow. "That's not what I said, liar!"

"Yes, it is. You're just in denial," he teases back and flicks your forehead with a chuckle.

It's so late at night, you can almost see the sun rising above the horizon, yet neither of you feels tired as you just can't get enough of each other.

You haven't been on a date for nearly a month as both of your tight schedules prevented you from seeing each other for so long, so now that you finally have the time with him, you're going to make every minute of it worthy.

You're walking by the river, Jay's arm wrapped around your waist and fingers caressing your side gently. There's not a single soul apart from the two of you here in such ungodly hour and you bask in the silent flow of the river.

Jay's hand suddenly brushes over your forearm and he gasps quietly when he feels the sharp goosebumps covering your skin. He turns his head to you and is instantly met with your sheepish smile.

"I told you to bring a jacket," he scolds you. "You never listen to me."

You stifle a laugh at seeing your boyfriend so worked up. You raise your arm up and rub your fingers on the frowned skin in between his eyebrows. Grabbing his hand and wrapping it back around your waist, you try to force him to walk forward but he stubbornly digs his heels in the gravel.

"Oh, come on. It's summer! And the forecast said it would be warmer today," you say with a pout. "It's not a big deal, though. I'm not even that cold, let's go."

"You're insane if you think I'd let you walk around like that," he scoffs and starts shrugging off his own leather jacket.

"No! Keep it on, now you're gonna be cold!" You protest quickly but still let him wrap the warm clothing over your shoulders. "See? You're shaking like a leaf."

Jay only rolls his eyes at your teasing and pulls you close to him again as you finally resume walking. "Am not."

You giggle at him but then something comes to your mind. "Wait, I have a better idea! Stay still."

You stop Jay and walk around him, only to jump on his back and wrap your arms around his neck. He stumbles slightly at your unexpected weight on top of him but quickly regains his balance, placing his hands under your knees. You happily tuck your head in his shoulder and place a kiss to his sensitive skin, earning a satisfied huff out of him.

"See? Now the both of us are warm."

SIM JAKE

You ring the doorbell and wait for one of the boys to open the door. Jake has texted you about half an hour ago that he'd just come back from his football practice and that you should drop by. You don't need to be asked twice, so you grabbed some of your stuff and headed to his apartment.

You hear a voice calling something from behind the door before it opens and you're greeted by Heeseung's smiling face.

"Hi," you say and walk in as he opens the door for you widely.

"Jake's in his room," he answers your question before you even have the chance to ask it.

You nod your head with a smile. "Thanks."

When you walk into the pointed bedroom, you're greeted by the evening darkness — well, besides the light coming from your boyfriend's phone that's currently lying on his chest, most likely forgotten as the video playing on it put Jake to sleep. Shaking your head with a small laugh, you walk up to the bed and put his phone aside before settling up right next to him.

When you press your lips to his cheek softly, Jake wakes up and looks at you with dim eyes.

"Hi," you whisper with a giggle, hugging him with a smile on your lips.

"You're here already," he says, voice a little raspy. He pulls you closer and kisses your lips. "Sorry, didn't mean to fall sleep."

"It's okay," you hum before untangling yourself from his arms and getting up.

Jake points to his desk. "The shirt's there."

Just like you've done so many times before, you quickly change into the t-shirt that he left you and neatly fold your clothes on his desk chair. Dressed in a proper attire, you go back to the bed and immediately are caged by his arms that pull you closely to his chest.

"God, you look the best in my clothes," he mumbles as his lips nuzzle your cheek.

You let out a small laugh. "You think so?"

Jake hums and you feel his slim fingers stroking your skin underneath his t-shirt. "Absolutely. I would show you if I wasn't so damn tired, trust me."

PARK SUNGHOON

You reach your arms above your head, your hand meeting the soft skin of Sunghoon's cheek as you caress it gently. The two of you are cuddled up on his couch, trying to watch some sitcom but unsurprisingly ending up talking and bickering throughout most of the episode. You're wearing Sunghoon's hoodie that you've stolen couple hours ago. He loves when you do that. Seeing you in his clothes brings him so much warmth and giddiness, though he rarely says anything.

"You still have some of that popcorn left?" You ask, tilting your head backwards to take a glimpse of your boyfriend's face.

His hands are resting inside the front pocket of your hoodie, fingers absently drawing circles on your covered stomach.

"One would think you'd have enough for today," he teases with a snicker, his fingers curling up and tickling you gently, making you squirm with a strangled yelp. "You ate two bowls all by yourself. If you keep it up, you're gonna end up with a tummy ache."

You hum in agreement, settling back down on his chest. "I guess you're right."

You sit in silence only for a short while before Sunghoon asks suddenly, "I can make you a sandwich if you're hungry though?" He moves his head to the side to make it easier for you to look at him.

"Really?" You gasp from excitement, surprised at the kind act of your never-cooking boyfriend. "You'd do that for me?"

Sunghoon laughs and pinches your side playfully. "Am I really such a bad boyfriend that my girlfriend gets this excited over a sandwich?"

"You're the best one of a kind," you chirp, grinning up at him.

Sunghoon scoffs and leans forward to press his warm lips to your temple. "Fine. I'll be right back."

KIM SUNOO

You wake up as a sudden cramp twists your guts. You whine quietly, rolling to your side and away from Sunoo who's been holding you tightly for the entire night. You slowly open your eyes, blinking to adjust to the light coming out of the window as sunrise lights up the room thinly.

You turn around to face your sleeping boyfriend, only to end up gasping as your eyes land on the red stain on the bed. You quickly get up from the bed, head spinning from the abrupt movement. You tear up out of embarrassment, even if you know it's not your fault that your period started earlier than it was supposed to.

"What's going on?" Sunoo asks groggily as he takes in your panicked state in confusion. He sits up on the bed, concerned at the sight of your teary eyes. "Are you okay? What happened?"

You shake your head, knowing you're being a little dramatic but the fear of him getting mad or even grossed out lays a shadow over your common sense.

You speak up quietly. "I got my period early and stained your bed. I'm so sorry."

You watch as Sunoo's eyes drift down to the bedding before he clicks his tongue and stands up from the bed. You hide your face in your hands out of embarrassment.

"I'm sorry! I didn't-"

"Oh, come on, you really think I'd be mad at you for that?" He interrupts you and wraps his arms around you. "Please, don't cry, angel. It's not your fault and it's okay."

"But I ruined your sheets!" You whine out, hiding your face in the crook of his neck instead.

"You didn't ruin anything, silly! It's just a little blood," he scoffs and leans down to kiss the top of your head. "Hold on, alright?"

Relief rushes through your veins at his peaceful reaction, but then again, how could you ever expect anything else from your angel? You suddenly feel silly for overreacting like that but Sunoo doesn't give you a lot of time to overthink as he comes back with a pair of sweatpants in his hand.

"Here, get changed into these and I'll take care of the bed, alright?"

You nod your head before pecking his cheek and going to the bathroom to change. After cleaning up and tugging on the sweats, you come back to the bedroom and notice that he's already replaced the stained sheet with a clean one.

"See? Nothing happened, don't worry," he assures you one more time as he walks over to you and grabs your hand. He drags you over to his bed and crawls up behind you to wrap his arms around your waist and bury his face in your hair. "Now, let's go back to sleep because it's too damn early to be awake."

YANG JUNGWON

His thumb strokes the soft skin on your palm as the both of you walk down the park. You're just coming back from your date since it's gotten a little too windy to stay outside, so now you're on your way back home.

"No, she told me not to do that but I- God!" You interrupt yourself out of annoyance as your hood gets blown away from your head for like the hundredth time this hour. Murmuring under your nose, you tug it back on rather aggressively which makes Jungwon snicker quietly.

You keep talking. "So, as I was saying, I- Oh my god, I'm gonna lose my mind!" You cry out in defeat when another strong whisk of wind swipes the hood off the top of your head. Your boyfriends laughs louder now as he's been just wondering how much time will it take for you to finally lose it.

"You just can't get a break, can you?" He teases before stopping and walking in front of you.

You watch in confusion as he fixes the hood at your neck, then brings his hands up and tucks away the loose hair that wind has blown in your face. His grin is permanent on his face as he reaches his arms up and takes off his black beanie before tugging it over your hair instead. You instantly feel warmer and it's your turn to flash Jungwon with a smile now.

"Thanks," you say and run your hand through his thick hair to tame them a little.

Jungwon catches your hand in his and lifts it up to his face, only to end up pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. "Just don't wanna have you sick by tomorrow."

NISHIMURA RIKII

"Loser!"

Your laughter echoes in Niki's head as another snowball hits him right in the shoulder. He sends you a playful glare before leaning down into the snow and collecting a fistful of it, only to respond to your sudden attack with a throw at your head. You duck down slightly and avoid the snow from smacking you right in the face.

"That was rude!" You exclaim, instantly throwing another snowball into his hood as he turns around.

Niki yelps and looks at you in shock. "How dare you?" He asks, trying his best to cover his smile. "You better hide cause I won't let that slide."

You listen to his words and jog a couple meters back with a giggle. When you turn around, you notice your boyfriend standing almost face to face with you, holding a pile of snow in his gloved hand. He comes closer to you without the intention to throw it at you and you gasp as you realize what he's about to do.

"Don't even try," you warn him, backing away from him. "You're not gonna rub it in my face, you clown."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that if I was you," Niki teases before launching himself onto you.

As you try to dodge him, you quickly start backing away with your hands protecting your face. Next thing you know, you're tripping over the curb of the sidewalk and falling back into the large pile of snow. You yelp as your body is instantly engulfed with cold. You try to push yourself up from the pile and instantly feel your hand freezing up as you forgot to bring your gloves from home.

"Geez."

You can hear Niki mumbling from above you before his large hands pull you up from the pile. When you're standing back on your feet, he starts to dust you off from the snow sticking to your clothes and hair. You smile at him widely, watching as he fixes the collar of your jacket with furrowed eyebrows.

Without saying anything else, he unwraps his scarf and places it around your neck instead, securely tying it and tucking your wet hair underneath it. At the end he slides his gloves onto your frozen hands and hides them inside his jacket as he pulls you closely to his chest.

"Thank you. Best boyfriend who?" You grin up at him and raise to your tiptoes to peck his jaw sweetly.

Niki flicks your nose. "Loser."

permanent taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19

[shogunish]

𝗽𝗼𝗲𝘀𝗶𝗲.

pairing. true form! sukuna x f! reader

genre. some sort of romance (?)

contents. set in the heian period, true form sukuna, reader is a concubine, after sex + casual nudity, creampie, violence, blood, mediocre poetry that i wrote myself

summary. sukuna who neither loves nor hates anyone, finds himself attracted to the poetry you write so elegantly.

words. 2.4k

note. based on this random sukuna thought i had.

comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! <3

you had no other choice but to bang your fist against wooden gates in the pouring rain, mud staining your once white robes and strands of hair sticking to your face like a second skin.

"please, let me in!"

what else were you supposed to do when a swarm of curses suddenly terrorized your village, eating your parents' flesh alive and feasting on their corpses once they had died of shock? you had barely made it out of your home, throwing stones at the winged cursed spirits in hopes of gaining some sort of distance, an advantage.

"i'll do anything! i swear!"

you banged your fist harder until splinters pierced your skin and jumped off the wood. but the pain of it wasn't greater than the anguish of losing your loved ones, your home – a place you could no longer return to, a graveyard for the living.

tears of despair ran down your cheeks and you sobbed. wings flapped in the distance. you didn't need to turn around to know that those cursed spirits had caught up to you in the matter of a few minutes. horror crawled up your spine, slinging itself around your neck like the burn of a noose.

"please! i'm begging!"

your heart had already given up when you sunk to your knees, your mind made peace with the fact that this was it. but before you even knew what happened, someone grabbed the collar of your robes, dragged you inside and tossed your body into a puddle of mud like..like you were nothing.

"huh..?" sitting on your knees, your head shot up and your eyes widened once they caught sight of your savior and downfall.

he looked like a beast. four arms and two faces with pink hair slicked back amd an aura that nearly suffocated you. a pair of his arms was crossed over his chest, red eyes glared at you, stared right through the essence of your soul.

ryomen sukuna.

your grandparents always told you stories about him, but you never believed that anyone, or rather anything, like that could exist. nothing but a scary fairytale meant to teach children not to misuse jujutsu or else he'd eat them in their sleep. but he was real. silently, you wished you had listened to grandma and grandpa.

sukuna didn't ask for it, but your trembling body was on autopilot when you lowered your forehead to the wet ground and squeezed your eyes shut.

"do you have any idea how loud you are?" his voice was deep, obviously annoyed by your obnoxious begs and pleads to let you in, to grant you shelter from a horde of lousy cursed spirits.

you dug your fingernails into the ground. "m-my apologies.." your voice died in your throat, hoarse from screaming and begging and trembling out of pure fear. "my village..it got slaughtered and i..i just.."

"did I ask for any of your excuses?" sukuna couldn't care less about your sob story you tried serving him in an attempt to keep your life.

you were about to apologize again when clawed hands grabbed your cheeks, jerked your head upwards and forced you to look at sukuna who appeared to be bored out of his mind. wide-eyed, you stared at him with mud, tears and blood on your face. truly disgusting did you look.

"you said you'd do anything?" sukuna questioned as he regarded your fear-stricken face that looked like it was about to cry again when you dumbly nodded your head.

despite that, he had to admit that your skin seemed well taken care of and the fabric of your robes was neither too shabby nor too expensive. you were neither a farmer nor a noble, but something..in-between.

you reminded him of a poem he once read.

"the ugly little duck that many would have slaughtered

grew into a beautiful swan with grace unknown and beauty unmatched."

a silly swing of mood was all it took for sukuna to change his mind. originally, he wanted to spill the blood of the person who disturbed his rest, but he decided to give you chance to grow into something beautiful, something even someone like him could admire like the poetry he liked to read.

"you'd make a fine concubine." a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

was this..it?

you'd get to keep your life in exchange for pleasuring a mass murderer? you cringed at the thought and had half the mind to say that you'd rather be fed to the wolves than existing for a man's pleasure, but then..the images of your killed loved ones flashed before your eyes.

saying those words out loud would result in a painful, slow death. those cursed spirits would tear the flesh off your bones until you'd die of shock or blood loss.

you yielded. you did say you'd do anything.

"yes..i shall be your concubine as a sign of my gratitude."

those words sealed your fate.

sukuna called for someone named uraume, an androgynous-looking person clothed in monk robes and they took you inside where you were not only granted a bath but also a fresh pair of robes. they said they'd show you around the coming morning, that you would be to sleep in a room with the other concubines and that you had nothing to do but satisfy sukuna's sexual desires.

if you were to disobey, you would die.

just what had you gotten yourself into?

.

.

sukuna liked to believe that he didn't care about anyone. people, humans, were nothing but the dirt underneath his feet. maybe even the ants he'd squish if they were lucky enough. but even a curse such as himself found himself drawn to one of the arts humans gave birth to.

it was poetry.

those words would likely never reach sukuna's soul, but he liked the art of putting words together, to think about their meaning. after all, writing was the same as laying your soul bare – similar to showing your nude body to strangers like one of his many concubines.

in full bloom were the cherry blossoms, plum and vibrant. a spring breeze blew by and the engawa creaked underneath sukuna's bare feet. the pond's surface was disturbed by the occasional koi fish getting a little too close to the sun, the water rippled silently before coming to flawless stillness once more.

one more step and a glance towards the ground – what was this? sukuna bent down, picked up a piece of paper and upon turning it around, he was met with fine, onyx brush strokes and a neat handwriting. it was poetry.

sukuna shouldn't be as interested as he was, but maybe it was the good mood he had which allowed him to indulge himself in such silly thing.

"dreams are like bubbles.

fragile and transient, one touch and they cease to exist.

so why is it that i keep blowing bubbles,

hoping that the wind will be more gentle with them than my own fingertips?"

.

.

"if pain is time, then this must be eternity."

.

.

"his claws, so sharp and lethal and drenched in his arrogance's blood, almost feel as gentle as the breeze ringing in the spring."

and when sukuna raised his gaze, wanting to find a trace of the person who wrote these lines with such anguish, ruby irises found your form sitting underneath a tree. a little book was in your hands, black ink on the tips of your fingers as you dragged the brush across the paper. a faraway look in your eyes and glossy lips parted ever so slightly as you wrote down word for word.

who would've thought that a mere concubine, a woman whose purpose was to please sukuna in any way possible, was capable of creating such beauty? of executing such etiquette and carrying the brush with the sorrows of days gone by.

what else was going on in your mind, in that little soul of yours?

"sukuna. is everything alright?" uraume asked as they emerged from a sliding door. they had just come back from aiding the maids with a task that they needed help with and upon coming back, uraume immediately noticed the foreign expression on sukuna's face.

was this..awe..curiosity..or something entirely different? they couldn't tell.

sukuna crumpled the piece of paper in his fist. "yeah. no need to worry." he reassured his subordinate, but..those words were directed to himself as well.

.

.

.

soon after, sukuna requested you more often and kept you by his side for a little while before you'd pick up your kimono from the ground to go back to your own chambers to wash the sin off your body.

candles lit up sukuna's chamber, dipping the walls in hues of orange and yellow as the flame flickered. paintings as well as weapons made for war decorated the space – tools which still scared you, because what could a being such as sukuna do with these weapons? he could likely do worse than just murder you, you thought.

a sheen of sweat coated your nude body. your breasts rose and fell with each deep breath you took and sukuna's marks littered your skin. his bites on your neck, fingerprints on your thighs and the marks of his claws on your hips which were partly bloody. semen leaking from your entrance, you shivered.

"may i assume you're satisfied for the night, sukuna?" you looked up at him through your lashes, eyes still hazy from your orgasm.

sukuna's lower arm was wrapped around your shoulder and pulled you into his side. it was the most gentle touch you had ever received from him.

he hummed as if he was in thought. "..not quite."

immediately, you squirmed into a more upright position, eyes wide and shimmering even in the dim light. "i promise i can do better! if you let me just–" deft fingers attempted to raise the blanket from sukuna's lower half, but he stopped you, shaking his head.

"no, not that. rather.." he trailed off, watching the confusion grow in your eyes. "..i desire to know whether it's you who's lost a page of poetry?" sukuna's voice was deep, smooth like velvet, yet as dark as the abyss in his pupils. "the other concubines wouldn't even know how to write poetry, so..the only one left is you, [name]."

heat rose to your face. ashamed, you raise the blanket up to your collarbone as if it could hide the words sukuna had found. "..how did you..?"

"i found it when i stepped on it." sukuna was gentle when he cupped your chin with his clawed fingers and made you look at him. "consider me impressed."

surprise was written all over your face, lips parted, eyes wide and all that. you swore your heart was beating in your throat. did sukuna, the king of curses, just praise you?

he never praised anyone.

"..pardon..?" you breathed out. was this some kind of dream? a lucid dream? or maybe you were put under a spell? whichever it was..it felt pleasant.

"i'm not going to repeat myself." sukuna brushed a few strands of hair out of your face, tucking the strand behind your ear. "but i am going to keep you by my side. it appears that you're good for more than meets the eye."

that night, sukuna handed you a brush, ink and a piece of paper. he kept you by his side the entire night, wanting to hear the words you put to paper until you had fallen asleep with your head on his shoulder and his marks on your skin.

.

.

.

people said that love came all different shapes and forms: platonic love, familial love, erotic love, the love one held towards a pet and so on. if one were to ask sukuna what sort of affections he held towards you when you sat by his side, filling pages of poetry for him to read, he likely would remain silent.

because as arrogant as he was as the king of curses, as much as he didn't care about anyone but himself, he could not deny the fact that, in your company, he found peace amidst the violence that he caused himself.

sukuna liked the way you sat next to him with no fear, gentle eyes focused on that little notebook and a brush in your hand. silently would you sit next to the catastrophe that was sukuna, pouring your feelings onto paper that would one day fade and crumble like leaves in the wind. yes, even your tranquil self would one day fade into nothing like the ink on your papers.

"will you miss me when it's my turn to go?" you asked without looking at sukuna. a few cherry blossoms petals got tangled in your hair.

sukuna was gentle when he used one of his hands to pick the petal out of your hair. he should've said no without hesitating so long, because despite your appearance, you were awfully perceptive – that much sukuna had learned.

a smile graced your lips. seated next to sukuna on the engawa had become your favorite pastime even though he would use your body later on with no regard for your aching limbs.

"what? am I dear to you?" you teased the king of curses. within the last few months, you had become attuned to each other without meaning to.

"..if it is possible for a curse to love."

a sigh slipped sukuna's lips. he begrudgingly entertained your thoughts. "it seems that my treatment towards you has got to your head, [name]."

at that, you giggle into your notebook, eyes closed and the apples of your cheeks tinting a hue of red. "maybe a little bit. i was merely wondering if.."

sukuna was certain that he didn't love you, but rather the words you wrote. they flowed like water, written with grace unknown and beauty unmatched. each syllable was either fragile like a petal or sturdy like a warrior on horseback. it was funny how your poetry was a reflection of yourself.

when you sat next to sukuna, you were tender but when he'd order you into his chamber, you'd take and obey his orders like a samurai with nothing but moans on your lips.

"my affection has nothing to do with you." sukuna said after a pause.

"how sad." you mused, putting your brush down. "a being who has been living for so long and never experienced any sort of love. it must be lonely."

that day when you pressed a kiss to sukuna's cheek like a lover would, he wondered…if maybe you were attached to him instead.

[auroralwriting]

can’t take my charm ౨ৎ

ellie williams x singer!fem!reader

synopsis: you’re jackson’s very lovely performer, every wednesday, friday, and sunday nights performing at the local bar for the whole town. ellie is, as always, enamored with you.

haha yes this is based off of lucy gray from the hunger games.. i have multiple obsessions

“hey, we got ‘bout five minutes till we go on,” your bandmate, claire, said as she stuck her head in the bathroom you resided in. you were adjusting your outfit and hair, making sure you looked perfect.

you hummed for a second, “alright, i think i’m ready.”

“and you look amazing as always,” claire smiled, leading you to the rest of the band.

over the years, tommy helped you gather instruments and other useful things such as your microphone to help you perform. you really owed him.

you grabbed your mic and as you all walked out onto the small, makeshift stage, everyone cheered. you hooked your microphone up to the cord.

“hey, ya’ll!” you say cheerfully into the mic. “how’re we feelin’ tonight?”

applause and whistles followed, and you smiled. “are you ready to hear some music?” again, more applause.

you heard you drummer start counting in as the band began to play. everyone in the crowed started to move, some dancing, some just swaying to the beat while watching you.

you quickly found those perfect eyes staring at you from the bar. that’s where ellie sat, watching you with a smile on her face. you always caught her eye. sometimes you’d talk after your set. she always complimented you. you complimented her. there was a mutual pinning between you both.

“can’t take my charm, can’t take my humor,” you start to sing. everyone starts to cheer as your voice entered. you saw ellie whistle.

“thinkin’ you’re so fine, thinkin’ you can have mine, thinkin’ you’re in control,”

the song ended soon after, cheer and applause erupting.

this next song, well, it was a doosey. your bandmates didn’t take long to catch onto your and ellie’s infatuation with each other. they encouraged you to write a song about it. and here you were, about to perform it for everyone, including her.

“now ya’ll, this next one is somethin’ special,” you begin to say. everyone quiets softly to listen.

“this one’s about someone, someone i feel’s just too special to not have a song,” small cheers erupt.

you nod to your band who slowly starts the song. it didn’t take long for partners to start dancing. it was a good song to do that to.

“everyone’s born as clean as a whistle,” you sing. “fresh as a daisy, not a bit crazy,”

ellie’s eyes pour into your own. you can’t peel yours from hers. your singing directly into her soul.

“this world, it’s dark, this world, it’s scary. i’ve taken some hits, no wonder i’m weary. it’s why i need you. you’re as pure as the driven snow.”

as you sing, jesse sits next to ellie, nudging her. she doesn’t look away from you.

“lover girl’s written you a song, eh?” jesse teases.

“shut up,” ellie remarked softly. she wanted to hear you. she wanted to soak in every word you sang, memorize it and keep it forever.

jesse just smiled and walked back to dina, who couldn’t help but giggle at ellie’s reaction to your song.

it ended with your words, the biggest applause of the night erupting. you give a small bow, not pausing to speak but allowing the band to start playing another upbeat song.

it went on like this for a few sets. once your band ended and a duo went to take your place, you looked at claire nervously.

“girl,” its like she read your mind, “go talk to her. she couldn’t take her eyes off ya.”

you nodded and went into the crowed of people, trying to push through everyone to get to the bar. you could just see it, but it was loud, and everyone was dancing.

suddenly, your hand was captured in someone else’s being dragged to the bar. you knew it was ellie guiding you.

one you emerged from the crowd, there she was. she got up on her seat and patted the one next to her. you sat down and turned your seat to her.

“hey pretty girl,” ellie flirted. “you sounded amazing.”

“thank you, els.” you smiled bashfully.

there was a pause. you wanted to ask her about the song. her song.

“i loved the song,” it was like ellie read your mind. “it was beautiful.”

you looked down, “it’s for you,”

“for me?” ellie teased, “little old me?” she laughed at your embarrassed face. she took your hands in hers. “i loved it, sweets. i wish i could hear it over and over again.”

you shrugged, smiling a little. “then just ask,”

ellie raised an eyebrow at you, and you got the hint. you laughed slightly and leaned closer to her.

“everyone wants to be like a hero,” you sing while laughing with ellie. “the cake with the cream, the doer not dreamer,”

“i fucking love your voice,” ellie smiled. “it’s so beautiful. just like you,”

your face turned bright red at this. “i think your beautiful, too,”

“maybe sometime i can play guitar and you can sing for me,” ellie suggests, nudging you with her shoulder, now incredibly close. legs touching, arms basically touching.

“you play?” you ask as she nods.

“joel taught me,” she smiles.

her fingers find the bottom of your chin, turning your head to face her. neither of you said anything, you didn’t have to. it didn’t take long before her lips were pressed against your own.

“such a little charmer,” ellie teases once you pull away, “feeling me in with a song,”

you laugh, “i already had you before that,”

“yeah,” ellie nods, hand in yours, her thumb rubbing your hand softly, “you did.”

[milkywaydrabbles]

number 7 and 9 from flufftober list with alucard 🥺 baby boy is the prettiest man who ever lived and we gotta told him everyday

A/N: I swear one day I'll be able to make my fluff drabbles as long as the smut ones I'm still trying ;; I love Adrian Tepes with my whole heart I say it after every flufftober I write about him but I MEAN IT! Hope you like mwuah

“I could just stare at you forever” “Creep” “You’re the most beautiful being on the earth” x Alucard

Unnerving. That’s how Alucard would describe how you’re looking at him right now. He’s caught you staring a few times already. Normally he wouldn’t mind it, finding it rather adorable. But you’d be staring at him for what felt like hours now. Sighing every few minutes. Alucard tried to ignore it the best he could, really, he did. But how the fuck was he supposed to concentrate on anything at all when he felt your eyes boring into his soul. He sighed, giving in and closing the book in front of him. “Darling, you’re staring.”

“Mhm!” 

....

He anticipated more from you, not just a nod of affirmation and a smile. Okay then.

-

Alucard continued his day, and you yours, going about his duties within the village and you doing the daily chores around the castle (he always begged you to relax for a day, leave him something--anything--to do, but you never listened.) He’d swing in and check on you every now and again, and you’d just stare with a dreamy look on your face. Ignoring that. You’d talk to him while you washed clothes, yelling into the other room about some gossip you heard while he studied new defenses to put up around the village. Then the second he stepped into the room you grew silent, dopey smile on your lips. He thought he would burst, until you finally, finally, spoke up about it.

“I could just stare at you forever.”

....

“Creep.” You cackled, he continued. “That’s exactly what you’ve been doing. All day. I was starting to get worried I’ve forgotten something important and you were just waiting for me to notice.” Really, he was worried. Your laughter died down, hanging the rest of the clothes to try before bouncing over to the dhampir, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down for a chaste kiss. “Can’t help but to look at you, so handsome~” You cooed, peppering kisses all over his face. He smiled, chuffed to bits, and picked you up in his arms bridal style. You squealed, your giggles filling the air around him. Alucard spun you around, wanting to hear more of your happiness. It made his heart grow warm. “What are you going on about, silly girl?” You kicked your feet, leaning your head on his shoulder, and he swears he sees hearts in your eyes. “Feeling very lucky these days, is all. I don’t think I tell you enough that you’re pretty.” 

That made him bark out a laugh, beginning to walk out the wash room with you still in his arms, making way to his study again to have you sit on his lap whilst on the chair. “I think you tell me plenty, sweetheart.” Alucard kissed your forehead, and then your cheeks, and then your nose for good measure. You sighed, melting into his arms and running your fingers through his silky locks. “No, I mean it, you’re so pretty. Beautiful even!” You sat up straight, taking his face in your hands. “You’re beautiful, Adrian. You’re the most beautiful being on this Earth. And I’m so lucky, to be yours.” Alucard let out a shaky breath. You’re always so appreciative of him, really, you are. But each and every time he hears you wax poetry about him it takes his breath away. He never considered that he would make you feel the same way you made him feel. Even though that’s a silly thought, sometimes it was difficult to remember that you loved him. Sometimes it was difficult to imagine anyone loving him.

But you reminded him each and every day.

“Correction, darling--I’m so lucky to be yours.” Alucard tipped your head back, pouring all his love and affection into the kiss. He wanted you to feel his emotions deep in your bones, enough that your marrow would turn to love itself. He kissed you until you pulled back to breathe, and he kissed you some more after that. “Adrian,” you started with a breathy laugh gently holding his jaw.

“We’re lucky then, together.”

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

It happens by chance, and while Harry wishes it hadn’t, this will at least clear up any lingering uncertainty for him.

There’s a skirmish between Harry and some friends from the Order and Voldemort and his Death Eaters, and a couple stray curses happen to catch him – one slices shallowly into his upper arm, the other sends him rolling across the ground. The upshot of this is that the left shoulder of Harry’s shirt is now in ribbons and hanging down around his waist, leaving his chest – and soul mark – bare to the world. Including Voldemort.

Who looks like he’s having one doozy of an emotion.

And that basically confirms the dark wizard hadn’t known, but right now Harry’s bleeding sluggishly and wants to go home and have a drink and pass out for at least a few hours, so Voldemort can rage on his own time. Everyone else from his side has already buggered off, so he’s not abandoning anyone if he does the same.

Unfortunately, the blood loss – while not severe – is enough to slow his reaction time, which leads to him apparating himself and the Dark Lord latched onto him to his flat. Not ideal.

There are a tense few moments of staring at the snake man, waiting to see if he’ll attack or start destroying Harry’s home, but when he doesn’t take advantage – when he just stares and frowns and stares some more – Harry decides he’s too tired for this shit.

“You are just impossible to ward out, aren’t you?” he sighs. The curse of being so physically and magically intertwined with the other man. (Well. And at the soul level, too, but he tries not to think of that.)

Voldemort yanks him by his uninjured arm towards the kitchen light that comes on automatically and stares at Harry’s chest, and the elegantly written Tom Marvolo Riddle thereupon.

Harry scowls when the staring drags on. “Oi, could you quit perving on me and piss off already?”

“You were never going to tell me?” Voldemort demands, ignoring Harry’s half-arsed attempt at distraction.

“Of course not,” he scoffs. “Why the Hel would I? Either you already knew and it didn’t matter to you, or you didn’t – and I wasn’t about to risk baring my soul to someone who has a history of wanting me dead.” He shrugs. “I’m reckless, not suicidal.”

Voldemort opens his mouth with an angrily indignant look, and Harry looks to the ceiling for patience before pulling out of the other man’s grip and opening his emergency bottle of firewhiskey, hidden in the pantry, because this conversation needs alcohol. He pours two glasses (his to the brim) because he tries to be a good host, even to the bane of his existence. And if Voldemort doesn’t want it, well, it’ll save Harry getting the bottle out again.

All throughout this, Voldemort is ranting at him. Harry tunes most of it out – he’s had to hear enough of the man’s monologues to know he doesn’t need to listen to the preamble; the meat of his diatribe won’t come until a couple minutes in, at least.

After he casts a quick episkey on the cut on his arm, Harry leans against the counter, watching Voldemort pace around his modest kitchen. He takes a long, slow drink, welcoming the fire flowing down his throat and warming his belly. And either the other man is taking even longer than usual to get to the point or Harry’s more exhausted and irritable than he’d thought, because he’s suddenly completely out of patience with this situation.

He cuts in boredly, “It’s not like it changes anything. It doesn’t matter.”

Voldemort is immediately before him, looming and enraged. “It matters to me!”

“Why?”

“I’ve waited decades for you,” he says vehemently, leaning closer in an attempt to physically intimidate or pin Harry in place.

Harry barks a harsh laugh. “You waited for a fantasy. You’ve spent my whole life killing and hurting the people most important to me. Some silly mark doesn’t change that – it doesn’t make it better, it won’t make me love you.” He takes a sip and rasps through the burn. “It won’t change who you are.”

“I never received a mark–”

“And that’s unfortunate. Clearly it affected you. But plenty of people don’t get soul marks and they don’t commit mass murder and incite civil wars.” He gives Voldemort a dismissive look, standing up straight and slipping out from between the dark wizard and the counter. He can almost hear the other man grinding his teeth. 

“You have no idea what it’s like, not having a mark,” Voldemort hisses caustically, face contorted in a furious snarl. “The contempt, the ridicule I had to endure. I was denied one of Magic's basic gifts and they took it as proof they were better than me, those worthless fools.”

It’s difficult to know how he would’ve reacted to not having a mark. His burden has been to have the mark of the worst possible person, and he thinks he’s handled it far better than anyone could’ve expected of him. Having no mark would’ve confirmed that he’s meant to be alone, that there’s no one out there meant just for him, but having Voldemort’s mark as Harry Potter essentially means the same thing.

“Maybe you mutilated your soul too much to deserve a mark,” Harry says in a fit of cruelty. Behind the wrath crackling in the other man’s eyes, he can see the misery bloom. As good as it feels to score a hit against Voldemort, he regrets it even more. And isn’t that the exact reason why this damn war has dragged on for so long?

(Harry pushes that thought away wearily.)

“You had choices, Voldemort, and you made yours,” he says quietly but firmly. “I’m making mine, and it’s that I don’t want anything to do with you.”

“This is not a unilateral decision,” Voldemort says, the frustration in his tone edging close to desperation. “Do my wants mean nothing?”

"Your wants." Harry slams his almost empty glass down on the table; his voice comes out dangerously even. “Alright then. Can you bring my parents back to life? No? How about Cedric, or Sirius, or any of the dozens of others whose lives you’ve cut short?”

Voldemort’s mouth is pinched shut, a thunderous frown on his face.

“Hel, let’s start small. Stop this war, swear to never harm another person and get your followers to do the same. You want me to care about what you want? Start by addressing all of that.”

“You ask this of me and promise nothing in return?” Voldemort says bitterly.

“That’s the bare minimum it would take for me to see you as anything more than a murderous, blood-supremacist monster. And I honestly don’t think you can do it, but feel free to prove me wrong.”

That puts an unsettling gleam in the other man’s eyes. Harry thinks back on what he might’ve said to cause that reaction and feels his stomach drop. Oh bother. He’d challenged Voldemort. Harry knows exactly how he'd react to someone saying that; apparently Voldemort is equally competitive (and motivated by spite – he should’ve guessed that).

“...If I am able to–”

“You won’t–”

“When I fulfill your requirements,” Voldemort arrogantly says, face intense. “You and I will explore our connection, and you will meet with me frequently to do so.”

And now Harry is in a quandary. If Voldemort does what he’s been asked, Harry will have achieved what he’s been fighting for all six years of his adult life; if Voldemort doesn’t, Harry’s no worse off than he was before. And he knows the dark wizard won’t give up his cause simply because his soulmate asked, but if Voldemort does…

“You do realise that your soulmate is me, yeah?” Harry clarifies, unnerved by the shift in the other man's demeanour. “You don’t like me. At all.”

“Nonsense,” Voldemort says, waving off Harry’s really very logical point. “We simply haven’t had a chance to become properly acquainted.”

“...Because you’re always trying to kill me.”

“Details, details.” 

Harry would very much like to strangle the megalomaniac who is still in his apartment. “...Uh-huh. Sure, you become a completely different person and we’ll talk.”

He sometimes forgets that magic occasionally disregards sarcasm. This appears to be one of those times, as the heaviness in the air snaps tight around them, signifying Harry’s flippant “sure” just turned this discussion into a magically binding agreement. Merlin’s pierced nipples. So much for intent over phrasing.

Catching sight of Voldemort’s smug smirk, Harry suddenly feels genuinely homicidal for the first time in his life. Sensing his non-existent welcome is well and truly worn out, Voldemort says, “I look forward to it,” and apparates away. Harry pitches a cushion through the space the dark wizard just occupied. It helps settle his irritation a little.

He drops onto his couch with a deep, bone-tired sigh and tosses back Voldemort’s untouched glass of firewhiskey. 

He wonders if he’ll feel disappointed or relieved when Voldemort realises he’d rather keep trying to subjugate Magical Britain than have Harry as his soulmate.

Three days later, the war ends.

[ladylooch]

Listen I know it’s not November but could you write something about reader trying to get Nico to fail No Nut November?

A/N: Challenge accepted, Nico. 😈 This may be my favorite smut I have ever written.

Word Count: 1.0k

Hand on the Bible, you promise the day wasn’t meant to start out this way.

Nico is behind you, fucking you hard as the headboard slams against the wall. You push back against the covered wood, moaning loudly to the ceiling.

“Right there.” You beg him, choking on your moans as he grips your hair, keeping your head tilted back. He loves the way he can see the outline of your features. Your forehead quivers, eyebrows furrowed, nostrils flaring. Your teeth stab at your bottom lip, trying to hold back. “Uhhh.” You finally let lose. Nico pounds harder, thighs clapping against your ass.

“Fuck, you’re going to be so worth it.” He groans. 

But that’s now. Not how this all started.

You were in the kitchen, making yourself a cup of coffee in one of Nico’s t-shirts. The shirt completely covered you just to the edges of your butt cheeks. You walked around like this all the time. You didn’t think anything of it.

Nico came out of the bedroom at the smell of waffles. He shoves his wild hair back from his face, coming to the island where you are pouring more batter into the waffle maker.

“Hi Disney Princess.” You smile up at him, tilting your face for a kiss.

“Good morning.” He croaks, voice coated in sleep. His hand finds your opposite hip with your other side pressing into him. His fingers splay out under his shirt, holding your thigh and fiddling with the waistband of your panties. “Why aren’t you wearing pants?”

“I never do in the morning, unless it’s snowing.” 

“Yeah, but you know what month it is.” You glance at the calendar, seeing today’s date as November 6th. No Nut November can kick rocks in your book.

“Why are you participating in this?”

“Dougie brought it up as a team thing.”

“Easy for him to say, he doesn’t have a girlfriend.” 

“I think his justification is that makes it harder… no pun intended.” He chuckles. 

“You have waiting puss in your bed every night and his bed is empty… and he thinks that is harder for him?” Nico snorts at the word puss. 

“Babe.” He taps your ass at the filth. “Make it easier on me.”

“No. I don’t want you to participate in this!” You laugh, checking the waffle. It needs another minute. “This is a sad month for me. I may slip into a dickless depression.”

“It’s for a good cause.”

“You say that, but are you actually putting money to it?”

“Yeah, the whole team is. Losers have to pay more.” 

“So, if we have sex you’re going to admit that to the team by contributing more to the pot.”

“I am a man of honor, baby.” He nods, picking up your cup of coffee and taking a sip. “And I wanna brag about you too.” He hides his snicker in the cup. You narrow your gaze at him. 

“You better not be talking about that.” You insist, opening the waffle maker again. “That’s between me and you.”

“I did tell Woody your mouth is like a vacuum cause it sucks my soul out.” He covers his face with his hand. “I was so drunk in Vegas last month.” 

“You shit!” You laugh hard, using a fork to take out the waffle. Honestly tho, you’re proud of that. “What did he say?”

“Marry her.” You toss your head back and laugh harder.

“See I knew I liked him. Confirmed favorite.”

You walk across the kitchen to grab plates for both of you. They are a bit high for you so you have to get on your tip toes.

“Oh my god.” Nico moans behind you. His shirt has pulled up on you, exposing the see through backs of your panties. He admires the perfect curve of your ass before squeezing his eyes shut. 

“What do you think about No Nut November now?”

“What if I don’t… nut?” He questions. 

“You can’t.” You know immediately if he slips into you, he’s not going to be done until he leaves a puddle inside of you. 

“I think I can.” 

“Okay. Let’s go.” You take his shirt off, leaving it on the kitchen floor. Nico follows you fast.

And that is how you got here. 

With his cock buried to the hilt as he fucks you, telling you how worth it this is going to be.

You lay down on your stomach, then wrap your calves around his thick thighs, bucking back into him. Nico’s hand wraps around your stomach as he goes aggressively silent. The sound of your skin clapping together fills the room as you work him over. His hand slides down from your stomach, fingertips rubbing your clit to get you clenching him tighter. Your body curls inwards as he starts to thrust deep into you again, awkward, jerky movements that hint at what he is about to do. 

“Come on, Neeks. Fill me.” You beg him as he leans forward to connect your back with his front.

“You.. fuck. Babe!” He groans as he comes inside of you. You follow him, pushed over the edge by his uninhibited moans as he coats your walls. You clench him deeper with each pulse of your orgasm, milking him for all he is worth. Nico collapses onto your back, staying buried inside of you, balls resting on the back of your thighs. You reach around, running your fingers along his spine in encouragement. 

“Happens to the best men, baby.”

“You said that on purpose.”

“Yeah, I wanted you to fail.”

“You pay my fine then.” 

“No, it’s probably 20 grand or something outrageous you rich people decided.”

“It’s like 5.” Nico kisses along your shoulder. 

“I’ll pay you back in blowies.” 

“Sold!” Nico chuckles, rolling out of and off you to settle on his back on the bed. His hand comes to your ass, giving it a gentle pat, then resting there calmly.

“Let it be know, on the record with the New Jersey Devils locker room, that Nico Hischier made it 6 days into No Nut November.” You high five yourself with a snicker. Nico sighs, eyes closed with a blissed out smile on his face. 

“Worth every fucking penny.” His hand slaps your ass hard, filling the room with the distinct sound of a job well done. 

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

PLAYING DANGEROUS- J.B BARNES

Pairing: Dark! Cop! Bucky x Dark! Fem! Reader

Word Count: 5.2k

Summary: after finding out your husband has been cheating on you with dozens, you do the only logical thing. burn the house down with him trapped in it. when telling the police about your little fake sob story, one officer sees right through you- and needs payment to keep his mouth shut. 

WARNING: THIS FIC CONTAINS DARKER CONTENT SUCH AS MURDER, AARSON, MANIPULATION ETC. PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Warnings: SMUT, praise kink, degradation kink, dumbfication kink, manipluation, daddy kink, bondage, size kink, slight breeding kink, murder, aarson, drugs, cheating, petnames, swearing, small mention of violence, hair pulling, over stim

“everybody knows i'm a good girl, officer no, i wouldn't do a thing like that, that's for sure the house was already on fire, i swear i'm not a liar”- playing dangerous, lana del rey (unreleased)

Notes: im re-uploading this because im proud of it and im manifesting it does well and that you all enjoy it! xoxo claire

His screams were sudden over the roar of the creeping flames.

 They were loud, hollow and frantic as the smell of burning fabric alerted him from a deep sleep. It wasn't the fire alarms. You had made sure beforehand that they wouldn't go off, made sure the piercing, shrieking pounds stayed mute. 

Now all you could smell was burning flesh. 

Its charred, meaty smelt stank of beef in a frying pan. The glimpse of his skin, crimson and black as it flaked off made you smile as you turned on your heel.

 The image of his t-shirt, the one you hated more than anything because it stank of her, now dripped like candlewax off his skin. 

Good. 

Let it stain him. 

Let him be branded on his very flesh as he died, so in the afterlife, he would be reminded of her. So that he could think of each whore he had fucked, had used for his pleasure behind your back as you worked for him. 

Tried to make him happy.

You were done with that now, had decided you were done with him the minute you had poured the gasoline over the drapes and across the bedsheets. 

The very match you had lit to determine his fate was used to light the smoke propped between your lips, the cigarette smoke that trickled in your lungs sweet with the taste of revenge. His screams had followed you down the hall, out the door and into the yard as you watched the smoke rise from the cracked windows, out into the starry sky above. 

It was satisfying. It felt good. 

So good, you couldn't help but laugh as you watched all the memories of your past relationship go up in flames, the hot reds and oranges illuminating a fire within your own soul. 

A passion, that hadn't been there before, a hint of a spark that he had dulled.

 It wouldn't be long now before the entire house was ablaze, the neighbors too far away and hidden from groves of thick trees and bushes to see the colorful inferno happening before you. 

Of course, you had to do everything yourself. That part- hadn't changed.

 Taking a deep breath in through your nose, you sighed as you pulled out your phone from your jacket pocket, You had snatched it before you had set the house aflame, a plan already in motion for what you'd tell the cops. 

It was no challenge turning on the false worry and anxiety with each octave in your voice, the practice coming naturally to you throughout the years. You had used it to try and get Donavin to see you. 

To listen to you, to hear you out whenever you would raise your voice to voice a small opinion. He had brushed you off with the wave of his hand, or a smack across the cheek- the rings he wore still etched in your cheeks. 

He would listen now. He had no choice. 

Dialing 911, you waited for the receiver to pick up, tears already activated and streaming down your cheeks as you shakily held the phone. “911, what is your emergency?” the monotone voice sounded from the other side of the phone, following the script they had been trained to say. 

Just like how you were trained by Donavin. 

“My house, it's on fire! My husband is trapped inside and I can't get him out- I can’t- I can’t-” you sobbed, clutching your chest, tears blurring your vision as the flames grew larger, the snapping of wood and embers a soft melody in the background. 

“Okay, okay ma’am calm down. Where are you located? We’re sending a team right now to help you.” 

And that was that, you smiled to yourself, listening to the operator instruct you on every little thing to keep you calm, trying to distract you with questions. 

As if you cared. As if you were worried about that hunk of shit who was getting roasted like a turkey on Thanksgiving. 

The sound of sirens were still far down in the distance, the wails echoing through the forest as they neared. 

It was all going according to plan, you thought with a smile, a middle finger lifted up to the remains of the house before you. 

You didn't miss him. Not one bit.

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

“It was all supposed to go to plan! I miss him so much already…” you wailed, clutching your chest as you fell against the cop car, struggling to breathe. They didnt know it was from the smoke intake, not from the shock of your husband dying. 

The less they knew- the better.

 “I went out to the store to pick up some chocolates for him, wanting to surprise him after work, and when I came home-” your voice broke, another wail escaping from your lips as you sobbed, a group of officers attempting to calm you as the fake tears fell.

 “We were supposed to have a nice night together! He was supposed to get my gifts. And now.. and now-” 

“There, there dear.” an officer shushed, a hand placed on your shoulder as he slowly guided you away from the flashing lights and the frantic noises. 

If this was his attempt at comforting, he was borderline shit at it. He was lucky you didnt actually miss your husband, because holy fuck. 

“I’ll take you to the chief and you can tell him exactly what happened okay? He’s right over here.” he said cautiously, as if you were a frightened animal he didn’t know how to approach.

 Part of you didn't blame him for being so close guarded. You wouldn't know how to console someone ether if their husband died in a fire. There wasn't really a handbook, a guide for dummies if you will on the subject matter. 

You expected the chief wouldn't show much sympathy, a quick ‘sorry ma’am’ and a sad nod, sending you off on your way. You were hoping- praying you could get away from the bustles of people. 

They never seemed to end. Who knew a fire took so many god damn people to put out? 

The sounds of the water streaming from the hose made you jump, your head craned over your shoulder to attempt to see where the firemen had started to sizzle out the flames from the officer's grip. 

It tightened, guiding you onwards towards the back of the mob, the sounds of walkie-talkies buzzing and voices all going dull in your mind, like radio static.

 It was a game you liked to play with yourself, when things became too much. Tune out each station, flicker the dial until you could focus in on one conversation. 

You often did it when Donvian would talk, his grating voice making you focus on anything else but him. The birds chirping. The cars honking. The sounds of the dozens of women he had invited over for ‘business meetings’, their high-pitched, fake and scratchy voices better than his own. 

It was all slowly muffling now as you made your way over to the tall, bulky shadow that stretched out before you, the man's back turned. His voice was low and deep, filled to the brim with authority. Power that you couldn't shake, the monotones of his voice seeming to stain your very soul. 

“Chief, this is Mrs- sorry Ms. Y/LN.” the officer whose grip seemed like claws digging into your skin noted, handing you off as if you were a child going to daycare for the day while he spent the next few hours drinking stale coffee and complaining about his job before he came to pick you up. 

You were thankful to be free of his grip, but when the man turned, its as if that grip was suctioned back to you. Tendons clawing at your throat, stealing the air from your lungs. 

He was beautiful. Breath-takingly beautiful. 

The blues and reds of the lights shown against his tan skin, reflecting the highlights in his dark, slightly messy hair, and the stubble that followed along his sharp jawline. His lips were full and soft, cheeks slightly rosy as he surveyed you from where he towered over you. 

His eyes. Oh god, they pierced you. Could see right through your very lies, your actions and desires. 

It was right then and there the memory of your mother played through your head like a film reel, the edges warped and fading. Beautiful men are dangerous, Y/N. They can make you think anything they want you to- because of that. It's a cruel game they play. She had said, sitting in that worn armchair she loved so much, the stitching tattered and fraying as she’d prop a smoke between her lips. 

She was a cruel woman herself,  cold to the touch and distanced. But she was wise. Any wisdom she had gifted you before her passing had been thrown out the window now as you looked at his man, entranced by him. 

You wanted to play his game. Even if it was cruel. 

“Thank you Officer.” he said sternly, coldness laced in his voice like brandy as he turned to you. You swallowed, unsure of how to approach him. You tended to be cautious when it came to men, never knowing how to react. 

They were all so different to read, each of their book spines cracked in unique ways. 

You had an act to perform. You were the submissive wife, the tormented and heartbroken, as delicate as a piece of shattered glass. He was hard to read, but not impossible. He liked control, and he liked power. He liked that he had that, and that he had gained it by respect. This man was at a point in his life where he could say anything to anyone, and they'd listen. 

So you would too, to understand him better.

 “Sir?” you whispered, voice breaking as you willed the tears to stream down your cheeks again. He just looked at you, eyes sparkling with undeniable hunger.

 “I’m not going to bother asking if you're okay.” was all he said, handcuffs jangling from his belt as he shifted, propping the car door open. “Why not?” you asked, genuinely intrigued. 

It seemed like something everyone asked. Something everyone had to ask despite whatever had happened, whether that be a minute ago, or a second. 

So why wasn't he?

 “Because I already know the answer to that question. Would you like me to ask it anyways?” You shook your head, cat seeming to grab at your tongue. He had a fire in him, just like the one ablaze behind you. 

“Alright then. Get in the car dolly. We’re going for a ride.” he nodded, shooing you towards the car. “In the front?”

 “Do I have a reason to put you in the back?” 

Yes. Yes you do, but I don't fuckin regret it one bit. 

“Of course not Shierf.” you murmured anxiously, unsure of where this was going. You decided to play the game. Stick with it. 

The door slammed shut behind you as you slid onto the worn leather seat, your foot tapping against the car mat as his whistle sounded from the other side of the car.

 “Where are we going?” you asked as the key was placed in the ignition, the car revving to life as the doors locked. You were trapped. “For a drive.” was all he said, voice low and husky. 

You didnt even know this man's name, yet you were forced into a car against our will with him. It seemed formal introductions didnt apply to this man after all. 

He was an officer of the law. He had sworn an oath. Surely he was fine. 

The wheels rolled slowly, gravel crunching under the tires as he made his way around the dozens of vehicles and people mingling around the skeletons of your house. The keys jangling as the car bounced through potholes was the only noise you could focus on, yur breathing too uneven to try and listen to it to stay calm. 

You needed a pattern. Something you could repeat, over and over again. Or a distraction, from whatever thoughts were brewing in the cauldron of your brain. 

“You know my name. What's yours?” you asked timidly, glancing over at his hands gripping the steering wheel as you picked up speed down the highway, gravel roads now long behind you. “Bucky.” he nodded curtly, eyes glancing up to peer in the rearview. 

“Okay, Bucky- sir. What are we doing?” 

“Going for a drive.” he noted again, eyebrow raised as he looked over at you, mouth drawn into a flat line. Smart ass. “What are we doing, after this drive I mean? Surely we cant drive forever.”

 His foot pressed down on the gas even harder, the numbers increasing at an alarming rate. You were going much faster than the bent and twisted signs that scattered beside the road. “We’re going to the station, and you're going to be a good girl and answer some questions for me.” 

Your eyes widened, hands beginning to fidget nervously with the lace of your little white dress. You weren't really nervous about the questioning, as you had rehearsed the lines in your head after you had dialed for the cops. 

But of course, you had to pretend. Maybe he’d go easier on you, a frightened little widow who was sleep deprived and in shock. Bucky sensed this, feeling your anxiety muster as he looked over at you quickly before flickering his eyes back out onto the empty road. 

“I’m not going to hurt you, okay? You're safe. You just need to answer a few questions, and then we can find someplace do you to stay at.” he murmured softly, his demeanor changing suddenly. 

You swallowed, nodding as you cast your view out the window. The little town appeared small as you neared it, but it grew larger rather quickly as you flew down the old, winding road. 

Something about Bucky made you anxious. He wouldn't hurt you. But you felt... intimidated by him. Something you had felt about many men before- like Donvian. 

You would simply take care of this issue, brush off the chip on your shoulder and watch the pieces crumble to the ground.

 But with Bucky, it was different. 

There was something about him you couldn't quite hake, a chip suddenly becoming a gaping hole the longer you studied him. It was almost as if you wanted to be intimidated by him. You wanted him to have this unspoken sense of control, to be able to tug on the leash as he so chose. You wanted to trust him with control. 

Stupid, stupid girl. Your mother's voice rang through your ears, ringing louder and louder as you slowed to a halt as the light turned red.

 The town was asleep for the night, the blinds drawn shut on businesses, doors locked and the sidewalks empty. The wind seemed to howl through the streets, a shiver racking up your spine despite the windows being rolled up. A dim, green light reflected onto Bucky's face as he drove towards the corner, where the station remained. 

It was a very small town, so it was expected that he would be one of the only officers in the station. Especially with the little show you had thrown together tonight. You were anxious to be alone with Bucky for such a long period of time, but excited too. 

A thought then occurred to you, hating you in your tracks as you went to unbuckle your seatbelt as he placed the cruiser in park. 

“I don't have a place to stay at. My mother died seven years ago, and my fathers abandoned me. The only place I have is a pile of ash and charred wood.” you whispered, not thinking that part through. 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck. 

“Yes you do.” he looked at you with sincerity in his eyes, a hint of reassurance. “You always have a place to stay dollface.”

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

“Do you really have to put those tight handcuffs on?” you pouted, wincing as he fastened them to your wrists, the metal chain clanging against the table. It was empty as he guided you through the halls to the integration room, the sounds of his boots scruffing the tile echoing off the walls.

 The lights were bright, the fluoresces making you squint as he flicked them off as you sat in the cold, metal chair. “It's protocol with everyone. It's just until the questions are over and done with.” 

He didn't need to handcuff you. He wanted you bound and helpless. 

“Fine. So tell me…do you always work alone so late?” you teased, drumming your nails against the table, the tension thick in the air as it choked you. 

You’d get yourself out of this mess. You always did with men. 

“I’m questioning you sweetheart. Don't get any ideas.” he raised an eyebrow, pulling up a chair to sit across from you. It was romantic in a way, you thought- the way he was looking at you with such longing. You felt like there should be candles lit, platters filled with food and goblets filled with wine with how the two of you were eyeing each other.

 “Ask away then sir. You can ask me anything you want.” you smirked, running the script over and over again in your mind as he leaned back in his chair. 

“Can you give me a run down, in your own words as to what happened tonight, Ms. Y/L/N?.”

 Fine. Straight to the point. 

“I was at home, waiting for Donvian to come home from work. I then had this wonderful idea to run to the store, Macks General,  to pick him up some gifts, to surprise him. At 9:11pm, if you must know. I came back and..” you trailed off, picking at your cuticles as you cast your gaze downwards.

 “I see. And what gifts did you get him?” he asked, pulling out a pad from his pocket, scribbling down the lies you were spitting at him. “His favorite bottle of scotch and a box of chocolates.” you replied sternly, not liking where this was going.

 “Tell me, Ms. Y/L/N, why was Donvian coming home so late? He works at the law office in town, correct? They close at seven pm.” he stated, twirling his pen around those beautiful, calloused fingers of his, hypnotizing you. 

He was fucking some other whore. Some stank, his secretary- in his office, probably telling her she was beautiful and worthy of his love.

“He had some extra paperwork for one of his clients he ahd to work on. Confidential.” you smiled. “Of course. Sweetheart, was Donvian cheating on you?” 

The question struck you like an electric shock, your muscles tensing as you tried to hide the alarm on your face. “What makes you think that?” you snarled, growing more defensive by the minute, your chains clanging against the table. 

“I’m simply putting the pieces together as I see them sweetheart. So tell me, was he? There's no point lying to me.” 

He was right. He had that part figured out. Maybe if you told him the truth, he’d pity you, and go easier on you than he was right now. You sighed in defeat, wanting nothing more than to curl up into a ball and sleep. 

“Yes.”

 “Oh you poor thing.” he cooed, pity etched in his face, his eyes dripping with sympathy. You could tell if it was real, or a means to get you to confess. 

“If you think for one second that would lead me to burning my own house to the ground, with a human being inside of it- you're wrong. I can get revenge in other ways.” you growled, struggling against the handcuffs, biting your lip as they dug into your skin, rubbing the flesh. 

Bucky just smirked, tapping his pen in reputation. As if this were fun for him. 

“Everybody knows that I’m a good girl officer. The house was already on fire- I swear I’m not a liar.”

 “Are you sure about that angel?” he asked, chair squeaking against the linoleum as you gulped. “Because I already called Macks, asking for a description. You matched it perfectly, buying gasoline and a pack of cigarettes. So tell me angel, are you such a good girl?” 

Your heartbeat raced as he stood up suddenly, chair scraping enough the floor, making you flinch as his large hands banged down on the metal. “Yes. I’m a good girl.” you whimpered, not able to meet his eyes as he made his way over to you, his stance predatory as he came up behind you. 

“You wanna know what I think?” he asked mockingly, voice pricking into your skull like needles.

Don't answer. Do not reply Y/N. 

A sharp tug to your hair made you wince, neck snapping back to meet his glare, dark blue eyes peering at your soul as you felt a growl rise in your throat. “Do you?”

 “Yes.” you snarled, knowing you'd have no choice but to hear his little sprawl. He could think whatever he wanted to think- you wouldn't confess. 

“I think your husband was sleeping around, and you got upset. As you should. But instead of doing the mature thing and divorcing him- you decided to burn the house down, with him in it. Did I get it right sweetheart?”

 Another tug burned your scalp and you growled, slamming your hands down on the table. “No. Fuck. You.” A deep chuckle rumbled from behind you, and you wanted nothing more than to claw at the man. 

He was finding humor out of all of this.

 “Oh she uses her big girl word huh? Well before you go on your plea about how I’m a lying, sick fuck sweetheart, let me tell you what I know.” 

“Nothing. You know nothing.” you hissed, pulse racing as you felt your panties dampen the harder he tugged at your hair, the closer he moved to your skin. His breath was hot on your skin as he crouched down, whispering in your ear. 

“ I know that there's no one here right now. It's just the two of us. And I know that the rougher I am, the wetter you get.” You clenched your thighs together, foot bouncing eagerly as his hand caressed your neck, teasing you. 

He sniffed the air, a grin plastered on his face as you whimpered. “I can smell you, you dirty, dirty girl. You like this- don't you?” 

“Questioning is over now officer.” you stated, yanking your hands against the cuffs, the chain jangling as you attempted to break free. Of course, there was no use. You were trapped here until he let you go, and that wasn't going to happen anytime soon. 

Didn't stop you from trying anyways, as you were able to break free of Donvian restraints he had bound to you for so many years.

” Questioning is over when I say it’s over, dolly. I wouldn't want to let the word slip a poor, innocent little wife brutally murdered her husband- would I?” he mocked, forcing your head down on the table, your hand helplessly splayed out at your sides per his strength.

 Your legs wobbled as he stole the chair from under you, tossing it in a corner, clattering to the ground as you winced. 

“Please.” was all you could murmur, the fight slowly draining out of you. 

You wanted this. You wanted this man to fuck you so hard you couldn't walk. But you knew the second he entered you, you'd do whatever he'd say. You'd tell him whatever he wanted to hear. 

You were trapped in his game, and had fallen directly into his lap. It was the dangerous thing about beautiful men. Suddenly, you wish you had listened to your mothers warning. 

“Please what dolly? Please don't say anything? Or please fuck that pretty little pussy of yours?” he drawled, country accent thick as he flipped up your dress, the cool air hitting your soaked panties making you shiver in delight. “Both.”

 “Both? Greedy girl eh? How bout this-” he leaned in close, hand slipping down to brush against the soft skin f your inner thighs. “I’ll keep my lips zipped, if you let me do whatever I want to you. You’re mine.” he whispered, pinching your skin between his fingers, making you squeak out. 

“Yes. Whatever you want sir.” You had signed a deal with the devil with a pen and quill right then in there. 

But what option did you really have? He had the upper hand. 

You could feel his sly grin piercing through your soul, your nipples hardening and poking from the thin fabric as you squirmed in place, the restraints holding you to his every touch. 

Making you stay there and take it. 

It didn't help his much larger, beefy body was changing you in. “Oh sweetheart, it's just so hard isn't it? So hard trying to fight those thoughts screaming at you that this is wrong, and that this is bad for you?” he tsked, a thumb stroking your shoulder blade in a soothing motion as his other hand tugged your flimsy panties down. 

“I know sweet girl. But you dont need to think, okay? You aren't in control here. Let daddy do the thinking, little one. Just take what I give you.” he hummed softly, the sound of his belt jangling making your heart race with excitement. 

“I’m sorry. I didnt mean to, he just made me so mad-” you cried, your tears falling before you could stop them, the facade cracking at the seams the more he touched you. “He didnt deserve a sweet lil thing like you. You're such a good girl, aren't you?” 

You nodded, words trapped in your throat as Bucky slipped two fingers down to your cunt, smearing your slick on his fingers, popping them in his mouth with a moan. 

So sweet. Such a sweet thing. His words set you on fire, as if you were the one trapped in that house. As if you were the one whole limbs were set aflame, scorching and burning recking of tar. 

There was next to no warning before he slipped into you, hand parting your legs ever so slightly, a sweet coo and a kiss placed to the exposed skin on your shoulder. “OH GOD-” you cried, the stretch burning as he slowly pushed into your entrance, an intruder.

 “Such a big stretch aint it doll face? So pretty n tight for me.” he growled, the handcuffs rubbing and digging into your skin as you struggled to reach for him, to grip onto anything to steady yourself. 

It hurt. He hurt.

 Bucky was like a cigarette. Something you knew that was wrong for you, something that eventually kill you someday, taking its sweet time as it seemed into every pore- draining you of life. 

But it felt so good. So, so very fucking good. 

You were hugging him, gripping him as he fully entered you, making you mewl like a kitten. “Did he ever fuck you like this?” he asked softly, a sense of sudden compassion and urgency entering his voice as he took in your disheveled state, sliding out of you, your slick coating his dick making him groan. 

‘He rarely fucked me.” you confessed softly, body jolting as he thrust back into you with such force you felt the air sucked dry from your lungs. “Yea? He didnt fucking deserve a pretty slut like you. Explains this tight cunt though.” he snarled, the sound of his balls slapping through the air as they pounded against your ass, sounding with your moans and whimpers.

 “Please- don’t-tell-” you gasped, feeling his cunt brush your g-spot, eyes mindlessly rolling back in pleasure as he chuckled darkly. “You want me to keep my mouth shut hm honey? How far will you go so I don’t let it slip up?” 

“Anything!” you whined, knowing you were mindlessly falling for his spell with each snap of his hips. Bucky’s hands had tightened on your hips, gripping you through the soft, lacey fabric, your slick smearing and running down your inner thighs as you drooled. 

“Look at you doing big girl things. First, you burn your husband, now this? So much in one night for your little brain eh?” 

Yes. Yes it's too much. 

From the rough pounding your cunt was receiving to the feeling of the shackles digging into your flesh, you feared you'd overflow. It was an addiction. An adrenaline rush you could shake, creeping up on you faster and faster the heavier your breathing got, the low tide in your lower core becoming a tsunami as you clenched around him madly. 

No words could be uttered as you came with a high-pitched cry, fingernails scratching against the metal. “Look atchu, just creamin on my cock.” he cooed, yanking on your hair to snap your head back, the action alone making you bare your teeth, your fierce spark catching lame once more as you stared at him. 

“M’not on any pills.” you mumbled incoherently. “Well ain't that a drag?” he teased, hips sputtering as he came inside you with a grunt, head thrown back in pleasure as he moaned your name. 

“Not inside. Can’t- can’t inside.”

 “Too bad.” he whispered mockingly, and you winced as you felt the warm, oozing liquid seep out of your abused hole s he pulled out gently. “Bucky- we can't-” 

“You dont have the upper hand in this doll. You said anything, don’t you remember?”

 You were done for. Done. 

“You won't tell, right?” you asked nervously, a small yelp escaping you as he snapped the elastic band back up over your hips, his cum sticking to your puffy, swollen cunt. 

“My lips are sealed honey.” he smiled, hand spanking your ass playfully as he zipped his pants back up quickly, as if nothing had happened. 

As if he hadn't just rearranged your guts had made you a drooling, cockdrunk mess on his dick. 

You lifted your wrists hopefully, praying he’d unlock the cuffs and free you. He clucked his tongue, shaking his head with a smile. 

If you can't stand the heat, then get out of the fire- you might get what you desire. 

You had gotten yourself into this mess. You had been played by another man. But this time, you weren't sure if you were so against it. You watched with curiosity as he pulled out his phone, punching in a number and bringing it to his ear to prevent you from hearing the voice on the other end. 

You knew better than to ask questions.

 “Rogers? Yeah I got her here with me. She's bound.” A murmur voiced from the other side, something the mystery man said making Bucky chuckle, voice low and deep. 

“Yeah she's trouble.” He tilted his head, winking at you. It was confusing, the way he treated you. Like an angel one second, like a devil the next. 

You just prayed he was feeling angelic after that little fiasco the two of you had gotten into a few minutes prior. 

“We’re going to need backup. Call Murdock.” 

You gulped. Oh god.

[sissylittlefeather]

How the Web Was Woven: The End

A/N: This. This series is my Mona Lisa, my Sistine Chapel, and these final brush strokes literally tore me apart. I poured my soul into this one. If you hate it, please don't tell me. But if you love it, please do because this is my everything. I hope it's enough.

Need to catch up? Masterlist

Warnings: mentions of death, illness, reference to sex, I think that's all.

Word count: ~2.5k

Four and a half years. That's all you have left. It's not enough.

******

The years slip away with Elvis going back and forth every couple of months like he did before. The kids get older, you get older, and Elvis gets older too. Every time he leaves, it tears out another piece of your heart knowing it's getting closer and closer to the last time you'll see him. He's in good spirits every time he visits, but it's hard not to notice his body declining. Making a portal to send him home gets harder and harder, but he still maintains that he's fine. You both know he's not, but what is there to do about it?

And then, before you know it, it's July of 2027, or 1977 for him. John Jessie is 10, Erin Love is 7. Your babies have been replaced with kids and your youthful, vigorous husband is replaced with a man you know is past his prime. He doesn't know it, but you do. He has a little over a month left and you find yourself falling apart at the smallest things. He kisses the back of your hand while you all watch a movie together and you have to get up and go to the bathroom to weep. He sings in the shower and you lay in your bed and rock your body while the tears stream down your cheeks. You drive to dinner with him in the backseat of your minivan between the kids watching a movie on the little screen that comes down from the ceiling of the car and when he laughs you almost have to pull over to keep from crashing as you drive with teary eyes.

He stays with you for a full three weeks because you continue making excuses to keep him around. You need him to help with this or the kids have something going on that he should be there for. In reality, you can't bear the thought of saying goodbye. Because this time you know it's really going to be goodbye. And you can't tell him, so he'll treat it like any other parting. He'll kiss your cheek and say "until next time, honey" like he always does.

But you know there won't be a next time. And the knowing is eating you alive.

In early August, a summer thunderstorm rips through in the middle of the night. Elvis is still there, wrapped around you breathing softly as you lay awake trying not to cry. There's a sharp flash of lightning and not ten seconds later, a crash of thunder tears into the quiet night. You listen for opening doors and sure enough, in less than a minute Erin is in your room and on your bed.

"Daddy!" Elvis sits up and she snuggles into his warmth. He strokes her hair and shushes her gently.

"You're okay, baby girl. Daddy's got you."

John Jessie walks up to the bed cautiously.

"She okay? I just came to check on Erin-" There's another flash of lightning and John Jessie jumps. When the thunder crashes, he crawls into the bed next to you. He might be a big 10-year-old, but you're still his mama. The rain is coming down in torrential waves and you hear hail start to plunk against the windows.

You and Elvis sit with both kids in between you and the power flickers. Erin gasps and John Jessie pats her hand.

"It's okay, sister." Elvis kisses her hair.

"Your brother is right, sweetheart. Nothin' to worry about."

Just then, the power goes out fully.

"Daddy!"

"We're alright. Your mama will go get a candle to light." He looks to you in the dark and you grab your phone and turn the flashlight on. Then, you slide out of bed to find a candle and a lighter. It takes you a minute of fumbling around the house to get what you're looking for. When you make your way back down the hall to the bedroom you pause just outside the door and your heart stops.

He's singing.

In the twilight glow I see

Blue eyes crying in the rain

When we kissed goodbye and parted

I knew we'd never meet again

Love is like a dying ember

And only memories remain

And through the ages I'll remember

Blue eyes crying in the rain

Some day when we meet up yonder

We'll stroll, hand in hand again

In a land that knows no parting

Blue eyes crying in the rain

When he reaches the end of the song, you're on your knees on the floor in the hallway, tears soaking the front of your night shirt, biting your knuckle and trying not to hyperventilate.

How will you survive without him?

You won't. You can't.

The power flicks back on and you hear both kids cheer. You quickly try to pull yourself back together and as you do, you make a decision.

You're not sure how you'll pull it off, or if you even can, but your mind is made up to try.

You walk back into the room and get back in bed with a new determination.

"You okay, honey?" Elvis looks at you curiously. You smile brightly.

"Mhmm! Now, let's get these kids back in their own beds." He shakes his head.

"You're somethin' else, honey. Twenty years together and you still keep me on my toes." He leans over and kisses you softly and then you each take a kid back to their bedroom. When you come back together, you settle into his arms and relax. Tomorrow, you'll think of a plan.

******

The next day comes and goes and so does Elvis. While the kids are at school, you make love and open a portal. You give him the next rendezvous point for the fall, knowing you'll see him before then. As expected, he kisses you and says he'll see you next time. Before he leaves, though, you grab him one last time and pull him into a deep kiss. Memories of every one of your kisses over the last 20 years comes crashing into you and you shake as you hold him, not wanting to let go. You have your plan, but if it doesn't work out, you want your last kiss to be a real one.

"Honey, do you want me to stay?" The portal shimmers behind him.

"Yes. But I know you can't."

"I don't have to go right now. We can make another one later." You look into his eyes, the same eyes that met yours in fear when he first appeared in 2007.

"No. If you don't go now, I'll never let you go."

"Honey, are you sure you're okay?" He doesn't want to leave you if there's something wrong.

"I'll be fine. Now go. I'll see you soon." He smiles softly and kisses your forehead.

"I love you with all of me, y/n. Always have and I always will."

"I love you too, Elvis." He squeezes you tightly one last time and then turns and walks through the portal. When it disappears, you sink to the floor. You have no more tears, so instead you pray. You pray for him, for his body and his soul. You pray for yourself and your kids. And you pray that your plan will work.

******

On August 15th, 1977, at 10:30 pm Elvis arrives at his dentist's office. It's a rather routine appointment, so he doesn't think too much of it. But when he gets back to the room and sees the shimmering portal, he's stunned.

This is not your agreed-upon meetup time or place. Somehow, he's alone in the room, but he knows he doesn't have much time before the dentist comes back. He decides there must be some urgent reason for you to show up here and a pang of worry hits him. Hopefully the kids are alright. The dentist knocks to let him know he's coming back in the room and Elvis takes a breath and walks through the portal, hoping he can get back without the dentist noticing.

"Honey, what the-" and then he sees you. Your eyes are wild and you're chewing on your thumbnail. It looks like you haven't slept in days, because you haven't, and your eyes are puffy and red with the remnants of your last crying spell. He immediately walks to you and wraps his arms around you. "What happened? Is it the kids?"

You lean against him and take in his warmth. You're afraid to move or speak in case something you do upsets him and causes what you're trying to avoid.

"No, it's not the kids. They're fine."

"Then what is-"

"It's you."

"Me? What about me?" You back up and look into his face. How will you tell him?

"You- if..." You trail off, not sure what to say.

"Honey, you're scaring me. You better tell me what's going on right now."

"I have to tell you something. And I need you to trust me. And then you have to make a choice." Your heart is pounding in your chest. You've thought of this moment so many times in the past two weeks and now it's here. The decision to give him a choice was not an easy one, but you know him. Telling him what to do is never the right option.

"Y/n. What the hell are you talking about?"

You take a deep breath, close your eyes and pray silently. Then, you open your eyes and look at him standing in front of you.

"You're going to die tomorrow." It hangs in the air between you like some tangible thing.

"What?" He almost whispers it.

"If you go back, you will die tomorrow. You have to."

"What do you mean, I have to?"

"Because you already did. Look." You hold your phone up to him and show him on Google. Elvis Presley, January 8th, 1935-August 16th, 1977.

He backs away from you and covers his mouth in shock. He shakes his head.

"No. I don't believe it."

"Elvis, why would I lie to you about this?" He looks up at you with tears in his eyes. He searches yours for evidence that this is some kind of cruel trick, but all he finds is sincerity and desperation.

"You said I have to make a choice."

"Yes. If you stay, I can take you to a hospital and we can try to save your life. But you can never go back. You'll be stuck in this timeline forever."

"I'll never see Lisa Marie again."

"No."

"I'll never perform again."

"Not as Elvis Presley, no."

"Elvis Presley is dead."

"Yes. But you could live as John Burrows." He sits down in a chair against the wall.

"That's a hell of a choice, honey."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Maybe if I'm supposed to die..." You nod and turn away from him. Your shoulders quake as your body is wracked with sobs. You don't want to impact his decision, but you can't control the anguish you feel at the thought of losing him. "But maybe you were meant to save me."

You turn back to him, your face shiny with tears. He walks to you and wraps you in his arms like he has so many times before. He presses his forehead to yours and closes his eyes.

"Y/n, you've saved me a hundred times over. You've made my life worth living. Save me one last time."

"You're sure that's what you want?"

"Yes."

******

The dentist rushes out to Ginger in the waiting room.

"Where did he go?"

"Who?"

"Elvis! He's gone!" She stands up and they frantically search the office, the parking lot, and the grounds of the building, but Elvis is nowhere to be found. Ginger calls Vernon in a panic.

"He's gone?"

"Vernon, it's like he disappeared! I don't know what could've happened." Vernon is quiet for a bit.

"Come home. I'll explain everything."

Back at Graceland, Vernon holds a discreet meeting with all of the most important people in Elvis's life. The conversation that occurs has been kept secret forever.

"Elvis is dead. Or, at least, that's what we're going to tell everyone. In 1960, Elvis sat me down once and warned me that this might happen. He said that there was a distinct possibility that he might disappear and never come back. If he did, he made me promise to proceed as if he was dead."

"What if he comes back?" Ginger is hysterical.

"He won't. He assured me he would be gone for good. You know how he is. We have to do what he asked."

Vernon looks around the room carefully.

"Elvis Presley is dead." They all nod in agreement.

"May he rest in peace."

******

The hospital staff think you're crazy when you insist that your husband is going to have a heart attack. Still, they run some tests and detect a good number of things wrong with him. They admit him and are shocked when he does, in fact, have a heart attack. Luckily, because he was already in the hospital, they're able to catch it quickly and stop it from doing too much damage. Still, this begins a health journey that will last the rest of his life.

But that's the important part.

He lives.

The miracles of modern medicine keep him alive well into his 70s. He watches your kids grow up. He cheers louder than anyone at every graduation and cries like a baby when he walks Erin Love down the aisle at her wedding. He even plays with his grandchildren and watches them grow up. He never stops missing Lisa Marie, but he's so grateful for the opportunity to be the dad he always wanted to be for John Jessie and Erin.

The two of you have your fights, like any other married couple, usually about you trying to feed him a heart-healthy diet. At one point he throws a whole baking sheet of salmon into the backyard to prove a point. You want to be mad, so you put your hands on your hips, but when he turns around to face you, you both erupt into laughter. You solve a lot of your problems by laughing together.

And once he's healthier, you spend a lot of time in bed together. Your lovemaking is not nearly as athletic as it used to be, but it's satisfying and you keep things interesting in your own ways.

But one thing has changed. You notice it the first time you have sex after his heart attack. You roll onto your back next to him sweating and breathing heavily and he wraps an arm around you, pulling you close.

"Shhh. Honey, listen."

"What?"

"It's gone." And then you notice. There's no buzzing sound, no shimmery air.

No portal.

He sings quietly.

At last I'm where you want me

Don't you know, that's where I want to be?

I've been round for the last time

Oh, girl, what can I do?

Oh the time the web was woven,

How I fell in love, fell in love with you...

******

The End

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @rosepresley68 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @that-hotdog @eddiesgirlforever @helen06dreamer @returntopresley @rjmartin11 @noirrose21-blog @deltafalax @tacozebra051

[writing-for-marvel]

Heartburn

[He’s Hazardous To My Health Series]

Paramedic!Bucky Barnes x Resident!Fem!Reader

< < PART 4 | Series Masterlist | PART 6 > >

Summary: You hadn’t expected to meet Bucky’s family so soon, let alone in your hospital.

Warnings: strictly 18+, TRIGGER WARNING mention of a child dying from an epileptic seizure, mention of child abuse, mention of someone dying from alcoholism/liver cancer, minor character has a heart attack, CPR including chest compressions is depicted, mention of surgery, angst, fluff, implied smut, please note this is a medical AU which is set in a emergency room

Word count: 5.1k

A/N: sorry if the pacing is a little off in this one, I had a vision but I’m not sure it’s actually come together all that well. We finally learn about Bucky’s past in this one! Banners by @vase-of-lilies

Main Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Taglist | Library

It’s the irritating beeping sound of a phone alarm that pulls you from your dreamland with a start.

For a minute you’re disoriented, even though you recognise the surroundings as your own bedroom. Only a second ago it seems you were cuddled up next to Bucky on your couch, head on his shoulder and fingers intertwined as reruns of The Office played in front of your tired eyelids.

Now, his large form reaches across to the bedside table to quickly shut off his alarm, the muscles in his bare back tensing with the stretch.

“Sorry darling, got an early shift and my uniform is back at my place.” The apology spoken in his hoarse morning voice is coupled with a soft kiss to your forehead which is sweet, but not quite enough recompense for the price of being woken up extra early.

Even though you’ve just woken up, probably looking puffy, bleary eyed and like a unshowered mess, Bucky’s gaze is still filled with wonder and tenderness, as if, even in this state, you’re still the most exquisite person he’s ever laid eyes on and he can’t quite believe he gets to wake up beside you.

He holds you into his warm, musky scented, hairy chest for a long minute, wherein you almost fall back to sleep listening to the steady beat of his heart, until he covertly attempts to remove his arms from around you, aiming to leave you to continue to rest alone in bed.

“No, don’t go.” You mumble in protest, reaching out to grab hold of his burly frame. Bucky’s strong enough to pull away from you if he really wanted, but it’s clear he doesn’t when even the drowsy grasp you have on him is adequate to prevent him from leaving your bed.

Bucky snuggles back into your embrace and a soft, loving smile spreads over your sleepy features which induces his heart to melt into warm honey in his chest. This is where he’s meant to be.

In a decades time, reflecting back he’s not going to remember everyday he turned up to work on time, but he will reminisce on these stolen moments with you.

For so long being a paramedic has been his purpose. That after everything he’s suffered through he poured his soul into helping other people to give him a reason to keep going.

But perhaps now he can instead be a little selfish. Open up his heart, which has been under lock and key, and indulge in the rapture and ardour that you seem to instinctively induce within him, even if there is a threat of eventual heartache.

After years of drifting lost at sea, he’s finally found a safe haven with you. And he doesn’t plan on doing anything to jeopardise that. He’d inflict life threatening pain on himself before allowing any hurt to come to you.

Bucky kisses you, pulling your pelvis flush with his as you swing your leg lazily over his thigh. It’s far from the perfect kiss, noses bumping, lips lethargic, unbrushed teeth and morning breath, but to Bucky it’s impeccable and unforgettable because it’s a kiss shared with you the first morning you’re waking up beside each other.

When your hands slip below the elastic of his sweatpants, Bucky knows he’s going to be late for his shift, but that hardly seems important when he gets to spend these extra moments with you.

Besides, he knows Steve will cover for him.

Right now, he’s just focused on satisfying his girl.

* * *

“Alright, I need to know everything about your date last night.” Typically this was a sentence Wanda spoke to you after a night spent with Bucky, but was now coming from your mouth directed at her.

It had been a relatively slow day in the ER. All patients were stable and you were caught up on paperwork, so you finally had the opportunity to interrogate Wanda about her first date with the anaesthesiologist she met last week - Vis, she had called him.

“A girl doesn’t kiss and tell.” She teases with a smirk, which tells you exactly how her night ended. You remember saying something of a similar vein after your first date with Bucky.

“Are you gonna see him again?” You prompt, wanting far more information about your friend’s love life than she was letting on.

“He’s already booked us in for Per Se this weekend.” You can see the excitement she’s failing to hide in her beaming smile which gets reciprocated on your own features.

“Oh, fancy! How did you manage to score that reservation after just one date?” You ask with raised brows and Wanda just smirks.

“I can do amazing things with my mouth.”

All of a sudden there’s a commotion over by the other side of the ER which pulls everyone’s attention. Bursting through the double doors from the ambulance bay is a gurney with a patient and a paramedic atop performing rhythmic chest compressions.

Normally, this wouldn’t be a strange sight to see in an ER, in fact, it’s a daily occurrence in your experience. However, what you do find peculiar is the sight of a familiar broad paramedic with long chestnut hair performing CPR even though you know for a fact his shift finished hours prior.

Something close to terror rises like steam from a burning hole in your stomach. You can see by the pure panic lining Bucky’s features as he screams instructions that something is terribly, terribly wrong.

Time seems to stand still as you watch the scene play out in front of you - Bucky continues compressions as they wheel the gurney past you towards the surgical wing. From your position you get a glimpse of a middle aged woman with the same colour hair as Bucky unconscious on the stretcher.

One of the ER doctors you don’t know very well offers to take over CPR but Bucky glowers at him and proceeds anyway. It’s not until Dr Strange approaches with his surgical team that a helpless melancholy overcomes Bucky’s demeanour and you immediately want to wrap him in an endless hug.

They exchange some words before Bucky shouts despondently “she’s my mother!” Your already bruised heart crumbles into a million tiny pieces on the floor in front of you. Dr Carter takes over from Bucky’s role as he steps off the gurney, wanting to follow the team into the OR but Strange stops him with a hand to strapping chest.

“This is as far as you go Barnes.” You hear him command flatly, and when Bucky opens his mouth to argue like you knew he would, Strange cuts him off. “We’ll do the best we can.” Stephen remarks in his quintessential vague and unpromising statement before following his team into the surgical wing. Knowing how superior Stephen’s best is, this utterance generally makes you feel confident about a patient's outcome, but this time, when the patient is someone so close to a person you care deeply about, it provides no comfort.

The short paramedic who arrived with Bucky, perhaps driving the ambulance, observes him with sorrowful, sympathetic eyes. She reaches out to him, looking as if she’s trying to find the right comforting words, but Bucky doesn’t seem to notice. He instead searches you out in the crowd of people who had gathered at the incident, finding you almost instantly, and with a few large strides has his arms wrapped tightly around your middle and his head tucks into the crook of your neck.

“I’m so sorry baby.” You whisper in his ear while on the tips of your toes, the ends of his long hair tickling your jawline. As you rub slow circles over his back a wretched sob bubbles up in his throat and his whole body starts heaving as he cries. “I’m right here, Buck.”

You feel his clutch on the back of your scrubs tighten as he continues to weep, your chest tightening knowing that as much as you may want to, there is nothing you can do to take the weight of this catastrophic misery from him.

“I can’t lose her too.” He cries in a barely intelligible stammer. Your heart cracks at the implication of too, instinctively pulling him closer in your embrace, tears welling in your own eyes at seeing your strong and cheeky Bucky face such overwhelming anguish. “Please, I can’t lose her too.” He repeats in a blubber with a hefty sniff, pulling back to gaze at you with imploring eyes, as if begging you to promise that she will live.

At this moment all you want is to ease his suffering, but you know as a physician you can't make that promise. Statistics are not in her favour. Your hand intuitively comes up to cup his face, thumb wiping the stream of tears flowing from the corner of his eye.

“I know, Buck. C’mere, let’s go to an on-call room where you can lie down.” The sea of people who had been silently staring at the scene of Bucky breaking down part for you to move through, though not before you throw incensed glares at those who were observing Bucky’s moment of grief.

You keep your arm steadily around Bucky’s muscular back as you both lead him through the maze of the hospital, towards where you know the nearest on-call room is due to your carnal activities weeks before, and keep him upright.

You shut the door behind you and lead Bucky to the small bed, his movements stemming from you prompting him - you suspect he’s too caught up in distraught thoughts to even recognise where he is.

Sitting with your back against the pillows, you gently pull Bucky up to your chest. His large frame is heavy and pushes you further into the mattress, but it’s a welcome, comforting embrace.

That morning, cuddled up in bed in a similar manner to now feels like a lifetime ago. You stay like that for a while, Bucky’s tears dampening your scrubs. It’s raw, observing someone you care for in such a vulnerable, impuissant state. You’re not entirely sure what Bucky needs right now, you’re still yet to learn so much about one another, but just being present seems to be sufficient for the moment.

With a sniffle Bucky clears his throat and finally speaks.

“She just collapsed, I stopped by her place after my shift. One second she was fine, talking and laughing, then the next unconscious on the floor.” He explained, slightly muffled into your chest as you stroked his hair in soothing motions.

“Thankfully you were with her.” You comment, dreading to think what would have happened if he had arrived too late, but realising that it probably isn’t any consolation to the person whose mother is currently fighting for her life.

You return to comfortable silence, your hand combing through strands of his hair, already having learnt that he enjoys having his hair played with. He shuffles so that your legs interlace, which helps you pull him closer.

“You’re probably wondering what I meant by her too.” Bucky gauges, and though you were intrigued by the insinuation of his phrasing, you also understand that it’s none of your business.

“Bucky, you don’t have to go into that now. You can tell me when you’re ready, or not at all if it makes you uncomfortable.” You utter softly into his hairline before peppering a few kisses along his forehead to his temple.

“I want you to know.” He urges, and though you’re not sure it’s the right time for him to detail any previous suffering or trauma he’s had to endure, you’re also not in a position to pick an argument with him. You’re all ears for whatever he wishes to share in such a vulnerable moment. “I trust you.” There’s a weight to these words that you enjoy bearing, that for Bucky there’s not many people who have the privilege of earning his trust and this heavy responsibility is an honour rather than a burden.

Bucky takes a deep breath, his bottom lip quivering. You stroke his hair again and when he gazes up at you it feels like you’re holding your entire world in your hands.

“Sorry, I haven’t had to explain this to someone in a long time.” He apologises needlessly.

“Take your time.”

He gulps down the lump forming in his throat before he starts.

“I had a baby sister.” He simply states. I can’t lose her too, echoing in your mind in Bucky’s distraught, desperate voice and every nerve in your body fires with despair.

He lost his baby sister.

Overcoming saying those five words aloud takes him a moment, but you remain patient. Even if that’s all the explanation he is to give, that wouldn’t matter to you, you already believe him to be the strongest person you know.

“She was five years younger than me, and besides Steve, was my best friend. You think I’m cheeky, well Becca was ten times worse.” He says with a reminiscent chuckle. You continue to rub steady circles over his sturdy back as his head rests on your chest. “She was only nine when it happened. She had epilepsy and one day when we were home alone she started having a seizure. I did everything I was taught to do in that situation, but she still didn’t make it. It took the ambulance over 30 minutes to get there. You’re a doctor, I’m sure you can put the pieces together.”

Sometimes being a physician and having intimate medical knowledge about what exactly was happening to a person felt like a punishment rather than a blessing. Being able to visualise precisely was happening in her body during her last moments and the medical reasons why she passed away even though a fourteen year old Bucky did everything he could to prevent it was knowledge you didn’t wish to have in this moment.

“I blamed myself for the longest time, I still do occasionally.” He comments and your chest constricts at the vision of a teenage Bucky thinking he was the reason his little sister died. You pull him even closer to you, your cheek brushing the top of his head.

“You would have done everything you could, James. I’m sure Becca knows that.” Bucky looks up at you with a combination of bewilderment and admiration, overly appreciative of the blind faith you’ve placed in him.

“My dad blamed me for it. Becca was always his favourite. Daddy’s little girl.” His voice is demure, so different to the brash, confident man you met in the ER. But part of you feels appreciative he can be vulnerable with you, that he can be truthful to his pain when you’re together instead of putting on a facade. “He took that grief and anger out on me and my mom after that. Told me he wished I was the child of his that died. She left him after that, and I barely saw him from then on. Didn’t fight her for custody, didn’t even want shared custody, he was completely fine with never seeing me again. He drank himself to death - got liver cancer and died just before my twenty-first birthday.”

Though it felt malevolent to wish harm on someone who had been through the horrendous pain of losing their daughter, you couldn’t help the sense of warm contentment filling your chest that Bucky’s father cannot hurt him anymore. What a vile thing to say to your own son.

“What happened is not your fault. It was devastating and so very unfortunate, but the blame does not lie with you. Don’t you ever believe for a moment that your fathers words are true.” He chokes out a sob and for a few long minutes you simply stay cuddled up to each other in the small on-call bed.

“You remember on our first date when you asked why I became a paramedic?” He finally breaks the silence with a raspy voice. You hum in affirmation. “This is why. I wanted to make sure no one else had to go through what my family did. That no one would lose a loved one because the help they needed didn’t arrive in time.”

You recall the day you met Bucky, carrying seven year old Sasha into the ER, a tear trickling down his cheek as she was wheeled off for her scan. You had always believed the tear was born from thinking she was in pain - but now, you contemplate that instead it was a happy tear, that against all odds he had successfully pulled a young girl from the train wreckage and she was getting the help she needed. Aid that never got to his sister.

“Ma and Steve are the only family I have left. I’m not ready to lose her.” You want to tell him that he will always have you too, but considering he’s known you for such a short time compared to his actual family and childhood best friend, it feels like an empty gesture.

“You want me to go check on her? I have surgical wing privileges, I could-”

“No, please, I need you here.” His embrace becomes suffocatingly tight to prevent you from leaving, and you reassure him with a kiss.

“Okay. I’m not going anywhere.” Bucky pulls the covers around the two of you, perhaps as an added layer you would have to fight to leave this room, so you repeat your statement, followed by placing a stream of kisses over his damp cheeks.

It becomes a warm cocoon as the two of you snuggle, Bucky’s large hands snaking under your shirt to rest on the expanse of your back, saying he just wants to feel close to you, the feel of your bare skin in a chaste circumstance seems to lower his previously pounding heart rate.

It’s not long until there is a knock on the door of the on-call room. You and Bucky exchange worried glances knowing this is it. You can sense Bucky’s apprehension in opening the door, so with a look asking for permission, and a slight nod from him, you twist the door handle.

It’s Dr Strange on the other side. You suspect Wanda had clued him into your whereabouts.

“She’s alive.” He states, knowing that key piece of information is all you care about, and you feel like the weight of the world has been lifted off your shoulders. You can’t imagine how Bucky must feel.

He pulls you into his chest in a bone crunching hug, happy tears now leaking from the corners of his eyes, relief buoyant in your chest at seeing your man with a smile on his face once again.

You don’t retain much more information after hearing this news. You note Stephen mentioning Winnifred had suffered a heart attack, and that they placed a couple of stents but you don’t absorb anything further.

You follow Dr Strange to her recovery room hand in hand. Bucky’s hold on your much smaller hand remains tight, though you can feel the trembling of his fingers. In response, you rub your thumb over the smooth skin of the back of his hand.

When you arrive, you observe an unconscious Mrs Barnes through the open cubicle curtain. Bucky breathes a sigh of relief next to you. Though still under the effects of anaesthesia, she is alive, and you have to be thankful for that much.

Stephen leaves you to wait for her to wake up, and glancing around, you recognise a few of the nurses who have done shifts in the ER give you sympathetic smiles.

Bucky takes a moment to observe and come to terms with his mother looking fragile in a hospital bed, wires connecting to machines attached to all parts of her body. He seems afraid to enter the room at the same time as looking grateful that she is still with him.

He takes a tentative step closer to the room, however you stay firmly where you are, the tension from your joined hands giving away your reluctance to invade his mothers privacy.

“Buck, I don’t think she’ll want a stranger in there with her at a time like this.” You comment, concerned about intruding into a personal, confidential space of a stranger. It wouldn’t be a good first impression if she kicked you out before you could even introduce yourself.

“But I need you.”

And that’s all it takes.

Bucky needs you, so nothing else matters.

Still somewhat grudgingly you follow Bucky into the private hospital room, but his beaming smile directed at you as you sit beside him, legs slung over his thick thighs, hands intertwined, is reward enough for facing that anxiety.

Besides, that is nothing compared to what Bucky faced today.

By the time Winnifred finally regains consciousness it’s been a long day - having been woken up early with Bucky and the carnal activities performed in your bedroom before either of you started your shifts, to the emotional rollercoaster since he entered your ER, but you’re still smiling and joking with each other until she awakens.

“Ma!” Bucky jumps up, worry filling his eyes as she groans, adjusting her position in bed. “Try not to move. You’ve just come out of surgery.”

“Surgery?” Winnifred takes in her clinical surroundings, surprise and dread brimming her eyes as she recognises the type of bed she’s in, pulse oximeter connected to her finger, blood pressure cuff strapped to her arm.

“The doctor will explain everything, but right now you just need your rest.” Bucky instructs, taking her hand in his and gently stroking her arm comfortingly. She gazes up at Bucky like he’s her entire world, and given everything she’s had to endure in her life, you can imagine that’s probably not far from the truth.

Her eyes land on you for the first time, and she tries to push herself up in bed but that only results in her grimacing, clearly in pain.

“Are you the doctor?”

“I am a doctor, but I’m not your doctor. I can get them for you though.” You offer but she immediately shakes her head, as if you haven’t properly interpreted her question.

“No, I mean James’ girlfriend, the doctor?”

You pause for a brief moment - the most you and Bucky had discussed your relationship was that you weren’t sleeping with other people, but had never confirmed that you are officially dating. You didn’t want to scare him off by putting a label on what you are. Hearing ‘Bucky’s girlfriend’ spoken out loud makes it very real all of a sudden, but it’s a title you want to possess.

“Yes, I’m James’ girlfriend.” You confirm, meeting Bucky’s tender gaze from beside you. He slings his arm around you, cheeks rosy from blushing, pulling you closer into his side, kissing the top of your head as Winnifred observes you both with a besotted smile.

You introduce yourself and Winnie, which she requests you call her, already has a million questions about where you grew up, your family, how you met her James, and why you got into medicine. You gladly answer them all, immediately seeing the joy it brings her that Bucky has a partner that cares about him as much as you do. You suspect it’s also a good diversion for her while nurses come in, poke and prod her and take vitals.

The sun sets outside the hospital but Winnie’s spirits are high when visiting hours come to an end. Bucky is adamant that he sleeps on the makeshift window bed in his moms room so that he can be there for her during the first days of her recovery. You offer to take care of Alpine, his mischievous snowy white cat, while he focuses on being with his mom.

Bucky insists he walks you out, even though you’re adamant he should stay with his mom. When you leave her room, Bucky all of a sudden looks nervous, and worry churns in your stomach.

“I know we said we weren’t putting labels on this-” He motions between you with an anxious look in his eye, as if he’s overstepped and is frantically trying to explain his rationale, “but ‘girlfriend’ was just the easiest way to explain it to her. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“Bucky.” You say to stop his nervous ranting. You take both of his hands, intertwining fingers, and a shaky breath leaves his lips as he swallows the myriad of words on his tongue. “I want to be your girlfriend - I didn’t say it just to appease your mom. I kinda thought we were already there to be honest, but I don’t want to push you to take this quicker than you’re ready for.”

“I’m ready.” He whispers with a subliminal nod. “I’ve never been someone’s boyfriend before.” He admits sheepishly, but it’s honestly adorable. This tall, burly man, whose size would intimidate most, is nervous to admit he’s never had a girlfriend. Something of pride blooms in your chest that you get the honour of being Bucky’s first ever girlfriend.

Hopefully his only ever girlfriend.

“Aww, I’m your first?” You stand on the tips of your toes and place a delicate kiss to his chapped lips as you tease him. “I promise I’ll be gentle.”

Affection twinkles in his eyes. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to his deep, steel blues observing you like you hang the stars and the moon in the night sky. Bucky leans down, encircling your waist with his strong arms as he kisses you with ardour.

“You are far from my first…” He mumbles against your lips, teeth grazing your bottom lip and pulling it lightly, “but you’re the only one that matters.”

You kiss him again, arms around his neck pulling him down to you. You’re dangerously addicted to the taste of him, the way his lips move against yours and how his tongue sweeps into your mouth like he owns it.

Ensuring that you get safely to your car this late at night, Bucky walks you all the way there, giving you another kiss before making sure you lock your car door and promise to text him when you get to his place to pick up Alpine and when you finally get home.

He watches as you pull your car out of the lot, until you’re completely out of sight.

Warmth spreads through the pit of your stomach even though you’re driving away from him, remembering Wanda’s warning before going on your first date with him. No one gets a second date with Bucky Barnes.

No one except you. And now you’re officially his girlfriend.

* * *

Walking back into his mom’s hospital room, Bucky’s surprised to find her still sitting up in bed with a bright smile plastered on her face. If he didn’t know any better, he wouldn’t have known she was ill at all.

“James.” Winnie pats the edge of her bed, motioning for Bucky to sit beside her. “She makes you happy?”

Bucky perches himself where his mother suggested and takes her hand in both of his, overly grateful to have her still with him. He kisses the back of her hand as he thinks of his response - not because he’s uncertain of his answer, you make him astonishingly happy, more than he has been in living memory, but because the extent of that delight is difficult to put into words.

“Incredibly so.” Is what he comes up with, though it feels incomplete and deficient of the precise devotion his heart already feels for you.

His mother, however, seems content with the answer for she clasps her hands together and hums with excitement.

“My boy, I never thought I’d see the day where you would finally let yourself be happy.” She takes a delicate hand and cups his face. Her eyes are filled with overwhelming joy, and Bucky suspects as happy as she is for him, she is also using it as a distraction from her current circumstance.

He didn’t think he’d ever open his heart and allow someone to own it as he has done with you. His greatest fear is being hurt like that again - being crushed by grief like a car in a compactor until he’s a shell of the person he was.

You have this uncanny ability to bring out the true jocular and jovial personality his mother would recognise from before bereavement overtook his life.

He’s already decided that he cannot for the life of him lose you. That if this doesn’t work out with you, he will shut his heart off from the rest of the world for good this time. You’re the only person he’s interested in giving his heart to, if his life can’t be shared with you, then he’ll have to find a way to be content on his own.

“So, can I be expecting grandbabies anytime soon?” Winnie asks in a teasing voice which makes Bucky’s cheeks flush. There isn’t any doubt where Bucky and Becca got their cheeky nature from.

“Ma, we’re definitely not there yet.” He shakes his head urgently but his mom just chuckles.

“Do you love her?”

Bucky pauses. It’s a yes or no question, and yet the answer certainly isn’t that simple.

Can you love someone who you’ve barely known for a month?

Probably not. At least, not in the way his mom is most likely probing about. He’s not even sure if his heart will allow himself to feel that way about someone. But there’s a flutter in his chest and a warmth in the pit of his stomach every time he so much as thinks about you that suggests he’s already begun falling.

“I think I could - I think I will.” He amends which promotes a smile to blossom on his moms face.

“She’s good for you.” It fills Bucky’s stomach with butterflies that his mom has only observed the two of you together for such a short time, and yet still holds this view. “Makes you genuinely laugh like when you were a little boy. I haven’t heard that beautiful sound in such a long time.”

They both have tears in their eyes now, and after the emotional upheaval of the day, Bucky is barely holding on from breaking down again.

“I don’t plan on letting her go, Ma.”

Part 6 > >

Be added to the series taglist here

He’s Hazardous To My Health [Paramedic!Bucky Barnes] Taglist: @lavenderpenumbra @crazyunsexycool @eralen @buckbuckyoongs @blackwidownat2814 @roschele @crayongirl-linz @ozwriterchick @desert-fern @misshale21 @chalesleclerc164 @rookthorne @janineb86 @emmabarnes @scarletbich @fallenlilangel99 @princezzjasmine @mdrovert @thebuckybarnesvault @doasyoudesireandlive @solitarioslilium @iamfandomwasted @tanyaspartak @netflixxgoddess @pop-rocks-818 @dumdidditydumdoo @missvelvetsstuff @marvelhoeland @thesadcatto-queen @kayden666 @amiimar @razor-blayde @katheryn1 @safew0rd @kentokaze @thewackywriter @lady-loki-barnes-djarin @badasswlthafatass @Vickie5446 @loveoldmenlikelana @00cmh @pointless-girl @honeyglee @nerdxacid @moonymagician @ashhsage @prettylittlepluviophile @otomefromtheheart @sjsmith56 @mandijo17 @lokidokieokie @oceansandblackhearts @rebeccapineapple @soorwellystan @excusememrbarnes @lofaewrites @snapcapquartet @wishingwell-2 @unaxv

[dellalyra]

you putting “megumi needs his mom rn” in the cw makes me wonder how he and the family reacted to yuuji dying after the detention center mission (and also what was the reaction to him coming back since i’m assuming gojo told reader before they revealed it to everyone else)

Family Formations - Part Eleven

Summary: Deja vu visits you when your son loses his best friend.

Warning: swearing, angst, acc kinda soft too, mourning, mentions of blood and vomiting, canon typical violence, MDNI

A/N: I had already started this fic when this request came through so loving the telepathy going on here. Also. This is sad. I’m sorry. I’ll make it worth it dw dw.

Recommended Listening:

Daylight - David Kushner

No Surprises - Radiohead

Ghost of You - 5 Seconds of Summer

Sparks - Coldplay

Your doorbell chimed, glancing at the clock hanging above the fireplace from you’d spot on the sofa, 8 pm? Satoru wasn’t due home until 9 pm plus - he just warped inside your home. Did he order your flowers again? You check the baby monitor and see your 4-month-old is still sound asleep in his crib.

Walking up to the door, you sensed a very familiar cursed energy. Megumi? What’s he doing here, it’s Wednesday.

You could hear the rain and thunder pouring and hitting your windows in waves.

You open the door, and you see nothing.

A whimper emanates from beside you, and on the ground – slumped against the doorway is your eldest boy.

You fall on your knees beside him.

“Megumi! Baby, what’s going on? You’re going to catch a cold.” You brush his hair out of his face, and you are stricken with the realisation that he is crying. His angular face is so devoid of any emotion, but the tears scream otherwise. You could count the number of times you’ve seen him cry in 10 years on one hand and you hadn’t been prepared for this tonight.

“Jesus, baby what’s going on?” You try to heave him up from the ground and he’s as limp as a rag doll as you try to guide him inside the door. The hallway is as far as you can manage his weight before you give in and shut the door to the outside world. He’s now just leaned against your sage green wall, if he wasn’t breathing, you’d think he was comatose.

Only now do you realise he’s bleeding. His lip is busted, and his eyebrow is too. But what type of curse would elicit this reaction?

“Megumi? Honey? Talk to me - what’s happened?” You kneel beside him, one hand on his shoulder, the other on the top of his head.

Empty eyes, now a dull blue, look up at you through lashes soaked with rain and tears.

“He’s dead.” The tiniest voice, again, void of emotions.

Satoru? No – you had been on the phone with him 20 minutes ago.

“He killed him.” His eyes are facing you – but they’re looking straight through you.

“Who’s dead, Megumi?” You probe – anxiety gripping your stomach like a vice.

“Sukuna – ripped his heart out. In front of me. Just ripped it out. His heart. He’s dead.” The words are barely intelligible in the mumbles that come from his out and you’re still as confused, Sukuna? How could- oh my god Yuuji is dead.

Yuuji Itadori.

Dead.

“Oh my god – fuck. Megumi, my sweet boy.” At this point, he turned to you.

He looked into your eyes.

He turned his head and vomited on the floor beside him.

You pull him into you, tears flooding your face as you think about that sweet, sweet boy – a soul too good for this world so brutally ripped out of it.

You wipe his mouth on your sweater sleeve and once again haul him up into your grasp he almost falls but you pull on every muscle fibre you had – you needed to get him dry and cleaned up.

A memory played in your mind, a sense of déjà vu – Satoru vomiting and sobbing and you shaking with tears curled up together – the loss of another best friend. The fates were cruel masters to make you relive this scene again.

Once he was up the stairs you lay him on his bed. Where he just sat on the edge, legs still on the ground and stared at his shoes. He went to vomit again, and this time you caught it with a bucket you’d retrieved from the closet.

“I need to get a cloth. I’ll be right back.” He didn’t acknowledge this. You just needed a moment to gather yourself before you went back in - you’d be no good to him if you continue to try to help in the state you're in, a mess of shock and grief and anger. White hot anger.

You shut the en suite door of his room behind you, and you rush to the toilet and heave up all of your remaining food at the mental image of that darling boy laying cold and dead and gutted on the ground.

You give yourself a moment – your son and you breathe so that you can deal with everything later – wait, does Satoru know?

Grabbing a cloth – you go into the room, laying the cloth down for a moment, you go into your and Satoru’s room and grab one of his sweatshirts. In Megumi’s room, you pull sweatpants from his wardrobe and look at your son. He’s dripping rainwater onto the carpet and there’s blood from his injuries mingling, tinging it pink.

You think some of the puddles might be tears, his or your own, you don’t know.

You stand in front of him, remembering the times when you’d do this to help him into his frog pyjamas - he was only 6 back then – 16 now and 5ft 9 – almost a whole foot taller than you. You lift his arms and unzip his jacket – his T-shirt underneath is soaked through too. You peel them both from him and check for cuts on his torso – bruises, old and fresh – but no blood.

You pull Satoru’s sweatshirt over his head, and he doesn’t even seem to notice that you’re moving him. He’s just limp in your arms, and you swear to anyone who’s listening to if you could take that pain and shoulder, it yourself then you would.

You peel his slacks down, pulling his sweatpants (a Christmas present from your brother) onto his lanky legs you tuck his hair behind his ears and dry it with a cloth. You then dab at his bleeding wounds, they’re clotting now, and the bleeding is stopping.

You throw the cloth away to the far side of the room.

He’s seen enough blood for today.

Tears are flowing freely from you both as you sit beside him on the edge of the bed.

Your proximity must trigger him back to this plane of existence and he looks at you.

“I couldn’t save him.”

“I know sweet boy, but it’s not your fault. You did everything you could.”

“It was a special grade – he, the curse had a finger. Our mission didn’t say any of that.”

“A special grade? Was Satoru there?” He couldn’t have been, he was in Osaka today.

“No. Just me and Kugisaki and Itadori.” His voice quavers.

You knew exactly what happened. It was clear from even the bare minimum you had heard.

But – now was not the time. Willing yourself to push the thoughts aside. Megumi doesn’t need that right now.

“You did everything you could, ‘Gumi. There was nothing you could have done.”

This was his kryptonite. A heavy, choked sob broke through the air and his body collapsed onto you.

“His heart – he ripped it out. He was right there and he just – momma, he’s dead. I couldn’t save him, Momma.” You broke down, sobbing yourself, cradling this boy – this poor broken boy, into your chest as you hugged him so tight you could feel every shake of his body in your own. You carefully moved. you both so you could sit against his headboard with his sobbing head laid on your stomach.

You are so grateful that Akio is a heavy-sleeping baby because you need to focus on your oldest son now. He needed you, and you were his to protect him, 100%.

You stroke his hair and whisper placating nothing into his ear. Nothing will fix this. Nothing will make it easier or make it feel better. You just need to be here; you just need to hold him now. You can tell him until the cows come home that he did all he could, he couldn’t have stopped Sukuna, that it was not his fault – but all these worlds will refuse to sink in until he’s ready to hear them. Yet, you tell him anyway. Over and over again.

You’ve no idea how much time passes. Your tears mingle with the lingering water on the side of his head as you cry with him but eventually, the sobs turn into heavy breaths, and you realise he’s passed out. Sheer exhaustion has taken his body hostage and for a second, you’re put at peace knowing at least right now – his mind will be quiet.

You slip your phone from your pocket, without moving or disturbing the boy on your lap.

‘Please call me.’ A message from Satoru.

You ring him.

The phone barely dials once before you hear his voice – hoarse.

“Y/N. I –”

“I know ‘Toru. Megumi came home.”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t there.” He sounds so broken.

“You have no reason to be sorry baby, we both know how this managed to come to pass.” You hated that he always still felt the weight of the whole world on his shoulders.

“I’ll kill them all.” He says, and you know he’s serious.

“You could, but you won’t. Maybe 10 years ago – maybe then we’d have done it together. But not now, not anymore.” You reply, voice still thick with tears.

There’s silence.

“Where are you, ‘Toru?”

“The morgue.”

“Shoko?”

“On her way in.”

“I can’t leave the boys.”

“I’ll be home soon.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

He hangs up the phone. Nothing more needs to be said. These feelings are sadly all too familiar to you both. You realise Shoko will have to do the autopsy.

She delivered Akio 4 months ago. Now she’d be cutting up the corpse of the boy who waited outside of the labour ward for 16 hours.

You lean your head back – closing your eyes. Flashes of a pink head tossing back in laughter and strong arms hugging you in thanks, of meatballs served to you as you nurse your newborn and the Spider-Man lamp being plugged in making you smile at the giddy teenager. The faces change, now they’re old and wrinkled and whisper words with serpentine tongues laced with deceit and heartlessness in their actions. They knew what they were doing. Satoru wasn’t in Osaka for no reason. They knew.

They all fucking knew.

They sent him to his death, knowingly and intentionally. They sent three children into a trap all because they are scared. Cowards who hide behind words of ‘the good of society’ and the guise of ‘the greater good’. Satoru and you had screamed and pushed and threatened to stay the execution, but they found a loophole anyway.

They risked Megumi and Nobara – did they think you wouldn’t piece together the big picture? Did they think that you wouldn’t realise?

You don’t know how long you sat there but your phone buzzed again.

📲Satoruuuuu is Calling… ✅⛔️

You pick up.

“He’s alive.”

“What?”

“He’s alive. Yuuji’s alive. Sukuna woke him up…” There are so many tones in his voice and so many thoughts in your head you have to close your eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“Well - he’s talking and walking so unless The Last of Us was accurate then…” he attempts a joke – relief clear in his voice.

You softly lift the head from your lap, and place it on the navy pillow. He doesn’t stir.

You walk out into your room, sitting on the balcony – the air was what you needed.

“I don’t know what to say.” That is all you can manage.

The torrent of emotions your mind went through was making you so dizzy you sat on the wooden chair looking at the sky.

“He’s not safe here, they’re going to come for him.” Satoru’s voice comes, quiet through the phone.

“What will we do?” You say.

“He needs time, he needs to train and learn to manipulate and use his cursed energy. If he can protect himself…” Satoru begins.

“We need to hide him. He can’t stay at school or come here.” Your sorcerer’s brain was switched on now.

“I can’t bring him to the Gojo estate either, the elders the family visit too much.” He speaks.

Lightbulb.

“They visit your family… but they’d never think to visit mine. Satoru, bring him to my mom’s. I’ll call her, you can train him there every day, and if we’re being watched it’s not suspicious to visit our own family. She’ll take care of him.” You say, you knew that your family would protect this boy with their lives, he was family to Megumi, family to you.

“Y/N… we can’t tell anyone. The only people who know are me, you, Shoko and Ijichi.” He says, and your heart stops.

You’ll have to lie to Megumi.

“Fuck. It’s too dangerous for him to know – if they catch wind of this, and they find out he knows…” you say.

“He’ll be branded a traitor. Who knows what they’d do for information.”

“He’s going to hate us.”

“He’ll understand. He’s a smart kid.”

“Come home to me, to us – ‘toru. Bring him to my parents and then please come home.” You whisper to him.

He agrees and tells you he loves you.

The weeks fly by as you feel yourself crumbling from the weight of the sadness spilling from your son, Kugisaki isn’t much better and Satoru is still reeling from the elder’s deceit. You stormed to the council meeting the following day and threatened to burn the place to the ground if they so much as considered harming a hair on the head of the other kids.

“Unfortunate circumstances occur on missions. Nobody knows the outcome of these situations.” They fought.

“Oh – you knew the outcome of this one. You knew full well. All of you, every single one of you knew and you allowed it. In legal terms, that’s murder. You’re all sociopaths and whatever awaits you in the next world, I hope it hurts even a fraction of the pain you’ve all caused. Endanger my family again, and I’ll deal with you all personally – never mind Satoru.”

The training was going well – you had gone to your mother’s house two days after his resurrection, after the water cooled and you were sure you weren’t being surveilled.

You had run to Yuuji, running your eyes and hands over every bit of him, checking for wounds and crying into his shoulder. He had died, and somehow you were being comforted by him.

Satoru and you explained the situation, taking turns to train with him. They came up with a ridiculous idea of Yuuji playing Jack in the Box at the exchange event all you could do was allow it.

Back home – you explained to Megumi that the mission had been a nefarious plot concocted by the elders and higher ups to get rid of Yuuji, since you and your husband kept getting in the way – they took the opportunity of your maternity leave to send Gojo to Osaka and place the kids in the path of a Special Grade Curse. You hoped being armed with this information would help him understand why you and Satoru had lied to him, and allowed him to grieve. It hurt you, but his safety was paramount.

When the day came and Yuuji was released, you stood beside Megumi as he and Nobara watched him return from the dead. Jaws hanging open, they couldn’t tear their eyes from their friend.

Reunions and rejoicing complete, you and Satoru pulled Megumi by the sleeve away from the scene, into your classroom.

When the door shut, you began to sob.

“‘Gumi, I’m so sorry. We didn’t have any choice but to keep it a secret. It –” Satoru wraps you into his chest.

“We had to keep it secret, because they would have killed anyone involved if they found out, kiddo. We had to keep you safe.” He says hand on Megumi’s shoulder and a crying wife clinging to him.

“It’s okay.” Megumi shrugs.

You freeze, you thought he’d never forgive you.

“What?” You and Satoru say in unison.

“I get why you did it. Thank you, guys, – for helping him, and uh – for protecting us all.” He says and God this boy will never fail to amaze you. His maturity was something you and Satoru could only have dreamed of at his age and even rarer was hearing such genuine praise from him – he was softer with you, but this was directed to you both.

Wordlessly, you and Satoru wrapped him in your arms and he begrudgingly and awkwardly reciprocated the affection.

Over his head, you looked at your husband. His crystalline eyes filled with relief and love for you and your patchwork family, and you pressed a soft kiss to his lips – a silent thank you for everything you do. The road was never easy, but God was it worth it.

TAGLIST: @vesta-ro @lilithlunas @mialexandruh @sassy-cat-in-town @madam-ri @cjm-cookiethief

[teyamsgrl]

Okey u said request angst so here I am! I’ve been non-stop thinking abt the idea that Neteyam left his love behind when the Sullys left for Awa’atlu. So what I’m thinking is he promises her that he’ll return and she waits and hopes, and hopes and waits and one day he appears to her when she visits the spirit tree and it’s kinda fluffy for a minute but then it sinks in that he’s never coming back to her </3

THIS SHATTERED MY HEART WTF 😭 I LEGIT CRIED WHILE WRITING THIS OH MY GAWWWWD

this is also gonna be more of a blurb style in the way of length

when will i see you again? ✧ neteyam

°˖➴ warnings: fem omatikaya reader, neteyam death mentions, to sum it up: sad 🫠 - yawne: beloved

it had been almost 7 months since your mate had left for awa'atlu with his family. it had been hard without him, you wanted to go with them desperately but it was something that was much easier said than done. neteyam's last words to you ring through your head each day that passes, "i promise, yawne, i will be back before you know it to come visit. i promise i will be with you again soon". you couldn't help but wonder what was happening in awa'atlu, you figured it would maybe be 2-3 months before neteyam returned for a visit, but 7 was pushing what you had assumed.

having been down in the dumps all day, you decided a visit to the tree of souls would be a good way to unwind and bring you some comfort. upon settling under the tree you grabbed your queue, examining the tendrils as they began to attach themselves to a section of the tree. your eyes flutter shut at the connection, a sigh falling from your lips.

once connected, you spot neteyam who is sitting on a rock beside a stream within the forest. you smile as you remember that this is where you first met, and he was sitting on that exact rock. your heart swells when a grin creeps onto his face, teeth showing and eyes bright. "neteyam!" you say excitedly... before it hits you. there is only one way that neteyam would be visiting you through the tree of souls; if he was dead. you begin to hyperventilate, tears pouring from your eyes which neteyam always said were sparkling.

"this- this can't be real, no no no!" you cry, hands reaching for the neteyam in your vision. "i'm sorry, yawne. this is the only way i can visit now. i'm sorry i didn't get to give you a proper goodbye before i went with eywa..." he steps closer, grabbing your hands tightly in his own. it is as though you can truly feel him, rough and large hands holding your soft and small ones. you sob more at this action, body shaking from your cries. "no neteyam, no you aren't dead no! no this isn't- no you aren't dead!" you blubber out the words while gazing at his face through your teary eyes. "i'm so sorry, i didn't want you to find out this way. i wish i was really there with you.." he whispers, hands now holding your waist gingerly. your hands grip his shoulders, digging into them as though you do not want to let this vision of him go.

"neteyam-" even uttering his name caused a sob to escape. "when will i see you again?" you whimper as you fully comprehend that you will not be able to physically be with neteyam ever again. you will never get to have his kisses or his warm cuddles through the night or his hand holds as you walk through the village together or hear his jokes or listen to his laugh. all you will have is this vision of him. "ma y/n, you can come to the tree whenever you need me, i will always be here. and when it is your time, you will be able to join me here with eywa. you will always have me, i will always be in your heart. you will never be without me, yawne"

[haesunflower]

the soulmates unfortunately series (zb1) [preview]

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ABOUT. here's the thing about soulmates, once you meet the one that is meant for you, you start to age. the biological clock starts to tick, and you are no longer the fresh faced 20 year old. years go by, and next thing you know it, you've grown old and wrinkly – right next to the love of your life. but here's the thing about y/n, she hated that.

y/n has had many soulmates in her lifetime, 4 of which had made a significant impact on her life. namely, her first husband, kim jiwoong. the man that she had a daughter with, zhang hao. the husband that raised her daughter, sung hanbin. and finally, ricky shen. (un)fortunately for her, her soulmates keep dying.

genre: romance with adult themes warnings: mentions of death, blood, character death, killers, cursing, etc. contains adult themes. each chapter will have specified warnings. note: yujin is not in this series as he is not 18 yet.

CHAPTERS

chapter zero: the first few soulmates

chapter one: the man she first married, kim jiwoong

chapter two: the man she had a daughter with, zhang hao

chapter three: the man that raised her daughter, sung hanbin

chapter four: unfortunately, ricky shen

chapter five: the finale

PREVIEW OF CH ZERO. (below the cut)

“Got anything that’ll get me drunk in the next ten minutes?” 

You plopped down on the bar stool, haphazardly placing your purse next to you. The bartender is eyeing you strangely, as if in disbelief that you’re even inside their hole in the wall establishment. 

You sigh and pull out your identification card, a laminated piece of junk that tells you how old you really are. Scratch that, how old you are meant to be. He picks up the card and raises it up next to your face, comparing the woman in the picture to the you that sits in front of him. It reminds you that you need to get it renewed…again. After all, the last time you updated your photo was sometime in the 80s, reflecting a version of you with big hair and large colorful earrings. You don’t blame him for wanting to double check, contrasting the all-black ensemble you currently sport. 

“Listen pal, I just buried my daughter today. I would appreciate it if you could get on with it”. You might not blame him, but you are impatient. 

He slides your ID card back and pours you a whiskey on the rocks. “Sorry for your loss ma’am” he solemnly extends his condolences as he places your drink in front of you. You pick it up, raising it and nodding a “thank you” before taking a large gulp. It burns. 

You outlived your daughter. And you wonder if you’ve been going about life in all the wrong ways.

Atop the alcohol display at the bar is a small TV, flashing a report about a young woman named Somi who was murdered and found dead at her home – leaving her husband a widower. The news station flashed a photo of the blonde couple, sharing that they had just gotten married a week ago. She was beautiful. A shame. 

At that moment, a tall man enters the bar and decides to take a seat next to you. Other than the fact that he too, is dressed in all black – you feel a deeper sense of similarity. Like kindred spirits, you recognize broken souls like yours. You order two more rounds of the whiskey the bartender gave you. 

“I heard about your late wife in the news, I’m sorry for your loss.” You feign sympathy and slide the glass to the man next to you. 

He looks taken aback at first, but accepts your offer. Now facing you, he raises his drink to you. You do the same.

He’s strikingly handsome, with platinum hair and dark eyebrows. You also don’t miss that he’s dressed in Yves Saint Laurent from head to toe. He takes a peek at your ID card still laying on the table, making sure to catch your name. 

“Next one’s on me, Y/N” he says, taking another swig at his whiskey, finishing his glass. He calls on the bartender, and buys an entire bottle for the two of you. The bartender returns his credit card, with the name ‘Shen Quanrui’ engraved. 

“Thank you Quanrui, that’s very generous of you.” 

He puts on a small smile, almost no one calls him by his legal name. “You can call me Ricky” he says as he pours into your glass. 

“Alright Ricky. Here’s to life.” you raise up. It feels inappropriate to be clinking glasses on the day you buried your daughter, but you figured you could make an exemption. Ricky too, seemed to be going through the same thing with his late wife. 

“To life.” he responds, tapping his glass against yours. 

Just two broken souls who had lost someone important in their lives, drinking to fill the hollowness. You almost don’t feel the familiar bloom in your chest, tugging at your entire being like a magnet trying to find its other half. And if you do feel it, you pretend it’s the whiskey burning its place in your heart. 

REPLY OR SEND AN ASK TO BE TAGGED TO THIS SERIES

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[klausysworld]

hi lovely, loving your writing as always 🫶🏻🫶🏻, i was just wondering if you’d write something a little different. Just an idea that came to mind, which is Y/N a previous ex Klaus or someone of the TVD men have mistreated. Traumatised and heartbroken, Y/N moves to a new city and starts a whole new life. A year later, Klaus and the Tvd gang at different locations (klaus = new orleans) (damon = new york) etc are listening to the same music channel, all of a sudden a familiar voice starts playing on the radio- it’s Miss Y/N, the newly and all so talented pop star.

Completely understandable if you’re not into this, it is different and doesn’t seem to be your theme. If you do do it then great, if not great 🤭lotta love for you and your writing.🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

(Gonna be a lot of jumping to different people but will remain in third person throughout)

She Did It

Y/n hadn’t had the smoothest ride to success.

Growing up in Mystic Falls Virginia was just the start of the rocky road known as life.

Being tangled in the supernatural drama as a result of being Elena, Bonnie and Carolines best friend was a whole other trip.

Falling for a toxic original hybrid that doesn’t know how to love hit her hard.

Being used whether it be for leverage in a life and death situation or for her body, she never had it easy.

Losing so many of her friends as a result only made it worse.

Him cheating on her and getting a werewolf pregnant was the straw on the camels back.

But if we’re being honest it was probably the best thing that could have happened. She was free to do whatever the fuck she wanted.

So she graduated, and got the hell out of that town so fast not even a tribrid could catch her.

Y/n went of the grid for nearly 4 years before she was heard from…or of again.

———————————————————————

(New York-Damon and Elena Salvatore)

It was a hot summers day in the city that never sleeps, Damon and Elena stood on the balcony of their apartment in the sun with the radio playing.

Damon stood by the barbecue flipping the burgers while Elena overlook the city. Only happy thoughts in her mind as she tapped her nails along the beat of the song that played.

Damons face twisted into one of recognition and slight confusion as he turned to Elena

“Have we heard this song already?” He asked trying to remember what had already played

“No I think it’s new, why?” Elena hums dismissively

“It sounds oddly familiar” he murmurs

Elena listens a little better and pays attention to the voice, her slight accent peeking through her words and the husk in her tone at certain points throughout. Her brows went up and she slowly stood, her hand moved to turn it up and a smile began to spread across her face

“What is it?” Damon asked confused

“Y/n” Elena stated with a growing grin “Y/n is singing” she projected “oh my god! Oh my god get the phone! Call Caroline right now!”

———————————————————————

(Boston-Caroline Forbes and Bonnie Bennet)

Both girls smiled as they saw Elena’s name appear on Care’s phone.

Caroline picked up and put her on speaker

“Hey Elena, how’s New Yorkk??” Care asked cheerfully

“Caroline turn on the radio right now! You won’t believe who’s singing!” Elena nearly yelled down the phone. Bonnie furrowed her brows but ran on over to the radio and turned it on.

Their faces light up within seconds of eachother as Bonnie whispered an “oh my god”

“She did it” Caroline uttered, her hand going over her mouth “she freaking did it!” She yelled ready to jump up and down. Both her and Bonnie were hugging in excitement as they listened to their old best friend pour her heart and soul into only 4 minutes of passion.

———————————————————————

(New Orleans-Klaus and Rebekah Mikaelson)

Klaus had frozen in step when he heard Rebekah singing along to a very familiar voice.

He stood in the door way staring amazed at the speaker that blasted her voice before the radio presenter chimed it

“And that was miss y/n’s newest big hit, it would seem she just keeps hitting the charts, last week she knocked out her own number one with another” the guy announced making Klaus take a step inside. His jaw went slack as he listened to the people praise her music and the meaning behind her songs. “I’m excited for her interview tomorrow morning” they continued

Rebekah noticed Klaus’s face and smirked “didn’t know she was basically a superstar?” She asked amused and he shook her head “she’s literally everywhere at the moment! How have you not heard her!?” She questioned with a laugh but he only blinked dumbfounded.

Klaus stood for several more songs until eventually leaving and sitting in his own room with his headphones blaring.

———————————————————————

(California-Y/n’s interview on TV).

Interviewer is in italics & Y/n is normal text

Y/n’s smile was big as she sat down opposite her interviewer. The cameras focused on her, she truly looked flawless.

“You look lovely this morning” the presenter greeted, sitting up straight in his chair as she grinned in excitement at him

“Thank you, you do to of course” she responded politely and he smiled

“I don’t want to come on too head on but god everyone is just dying to know, ‘who is y/n y/l/n!?’” He questioned leaning toward her eagerly making her laugh lightly

“No no it’s fine, straight to the point” she began “well I mean, it’s sort of a long story but I always had the dream and aspiration to become a singer and one day something just happened and it made me realise that it would only ever be a dream if I didn’t actually go for it” she explained and the man nodded

“Surely it’s more complicated than that?” He questioned

“No yeah of course, I mean I went to so many different places. I’ve sang in bars, i’ve been a busker on the streets of Chicago, i’ve had producers turn me away and auditions gone wrong. I’ve choked a few times and just had a lot of self doubt toward earlier years. It took like three years to get here, and of course that is like really freaking fast when you think about it because some people are trying for so long and get nowhere. I guess it was partly luck. I prefer to thank the public, I mostly got recognition from people posing me on social media and then bigger people approached me from there” she told him in more detail

“You are a role model to so many young women, you’ve proved to be incredibly resilient and ambitious. Your talent has gotten you so far, you’re already making songs with other huge stars” he stated with a look for her to confirm his words

She nodded and her smile grew

“I’m actually um, flying up to Michigan, Detroit next week, I’m producing a song slash rap with Marshal, well Eminem” she confirms and the cameras flash on her face

“So we should all be expecting a new phenomenon to be created” he question, his hands rubbing together

“I mean it’s Eminem, he hasn’t failed yet” she laughed

“And seeing the other people you’ve already sang with, you shouldn’t be any trouble, fans are truly over the moon to hear the both of you together” he adds

“Yeah, I mean, I’m incredibly excited as well obviously. I’m actually making up a collaborations album, I’ve already recorded some of the tracks on there with uh Taylor Swift and Lana del rey, then I’m with Eminem next week and some time down the line I have a meeting with Billie Eilish and her team and a couple other people but I wanna keep some surprises for the future”

The interviewer nodded along with what she said and leaned back in his seat

“Within very minimal years you have become such a huge success, what are your plans for the future?”

“Well I’m not overly sure to be honest. I know that I want to tour. I’ve done like a couple festivals and a few bigger events but I want to make my way around the states and eventually get out of America you know? I want to go world wide, I’ve actually already got a lot of requests to come to other countries but I need to do states first, see how much I make and how expensive a world tour will actually be”

Each person from her past watched snd listened to everything she said in that interview.

They all listened to the album she had already released and were all eager for her to create a collaborations one.

In some ways it was unbelievable but really, they all knew she was capable.

(I wanted this to focus more on the happiness that they all felt for her finally having her dreams rather than it being all about the past)

(Hope this was sort of what you wanted??? Im not gonna lie I have made up so so so many like fake scenarios in my head with basically this plot😭😭 I always end dating young Eminem and Klaus is all depressed cuz he wants me back. Basically I’m just a very sad being with little to no social life 😬)

[miercoooles]

Home

Summary: Everything is all set with the first snowfall coming around, now all you need is your husband to come home.

Pairing: Sebastian Vettel x Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: cursing, angst if you squint (I think?), teeth-rotting fluff (hopefully), strangers to lovers (kinda) bee- cause why not hehe, and Seb being adorable >:(

A/N: I know I said this was meant to be out on Seb’s birthday but I got caught up with college work and got lazy, so I apologise to those who waited. This is not proof read or beta read (so advance apologies for the terrible writing).

Comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated!

December finally came around Switzerland, and you were currently residing on the couch, holding a mug of hot chocolate as you tuned in on the television listening to the weather news report. When you heard the announcer mention that the first snowfall will be seen sometime this week, the corner of your lips curled upwards, forming a grin as you squealed like a little kid getting candy.

While others dreaded the coming of winter and its sub-zero temperature, it was no secret to anyone that knew you that it is your favourite season. From its white snow covering the houses and streets that allows you to make snowmans and snow angels to the Christmas lights that brightened up the long, pitch black, endless nights, to the cold weather that makes it absolutely perfect for cuddling.

Now all you needed to make everything complete was for your husband to return to your arms. Actually when you first met your now husband, it was like a usual cliché love story.

You were ordered by your boss to fly all the way to the Netherlands for an official work trip. Or well that was what you were supposed to be doing when you arrived in Amsterdam until the client you were supposed to meet up with ditched you.  

Now here you are miles away from your hometown, lost in a whole new foreign land with only a fair amount of pocket money and few changes of clothes.

You staggered along the streets, your phone in your hand as you made your way to the busy and crowded area trying to find the hotel your office booked for you while on the said trip.

Looking back on your phone, you sighed as you followed the directions on Google Maps. But after a few more minutes of this wild goose chase, you gave up and sat on a bench somewhere. Leaning your head on the bench, you rubbed your eyes, completely exhausted and jetlagged from the flight.

When you opened your eyes, you saw the setting sun slowly descend towards the horizon, casting a warm golden glow across the vast expanse of the sky. The sky transformed into a canvas of vivid colours, blending shades of orange, pink, and purple, creating a breathtaking display that captured your heart and soul.

You exhaled heavily, getting up from where you were seated as you carried on your venture to seek for your hotel. Turning on your phone, you followed the nearest route shown on the screen.

“You’ve arrived at your destination.”

Your ears perked up as soon as you heard those words. But the moment you looked up, the excitement you regained dissipated in a blink of an eye as you wince at the sight of the hotel. While you expected a cosy hotel that exuded an immediate sense of warmth and comfort, that would create an ambiance that felt like a home away from home, instead you were greeted by an odd and peculiar hotel that stood in stark contrast to its surroundings, defying conventional architecture and exuding an aura of eccentricity.

And as if the world knew your reluctance to step in, rain began to come down from the sky.

“Just my luck! Don’t tell me it can get any worse than this, right?” You groaned to no one in particular, your things starting to get soaked from the pouring water.

But like jinxing yourself as you said those words, it did in fact get much worse because when you went up the steps and tried opening the front doors, it was shut tight.

You kicked the door out of frustration before remembering that your things might be wet. Grabbing your luggage, you carried it up and placed it under the portico of the hotel before sitting on one of the steps, letting your skin seep the rain.

A few moments have passed and your body started shivering from the cold. You placed your arms on your thighs as you buried your face on your shaking hands, trying your best to warm yourself up.

“Stupid boss sending me on this stupid business trip. Fuck me!”

“You know you shouldn’t say that out loud when you’re alone in the dimly lit part of this street.” A voice suddenly piped up, making you jump from where you were seated, your hand holding your chest as you felt your heart race.  

You quickly whipped your head to where the sound came from and you saw a man with a messy, short light brown hair and blue eyes that was sparkling even in the darkness. He had a stubble growing on across his defined jaw that made him look mature.

“Don’t do that! Are you trying to kill me?” You sneered at the man who was holding back his laughter.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I saw you as I was walking past and I heard you say that, so I just wanted to warn you…”, he explained, looking genuinely sorry for his sudden appearance.

When you felt no rain on your skin, you looked up to see a black umbrella over your head being held by the stranger who frightened you.

“A-and you were getting drenched from the rain, so I was going to offer my umbrella…”, he proceeded to explain, gesturing at the umbrella he was holding up for the both of you.

There was a deafening silence that came after what he said as you pressed your lips in a tight line.

“Sorry, I should have minded my own business.”, he spoke up once more when he realised that he won’t get anything from you.

You let out a soft chuckle that only the two of you can hear before turning to face him, “You talk too much.”

His eyes widened at your remark, his cheeks turning into a shade of light red as he became flustered and self-conscious.

“It’s okay though… It’s honestly quite comforting that someone would be so kind to tell me.”, you followed up, noticing his embarrassment from your comment.

Now it was his turn to stay quiet, stunned as he heard you speak. He looked away, hiding a small grin that was forming on his lips. When he managed to control it, he turned back to you, tilting his head as his gaze fixed on you.

You felt his eyes bore holes into you and you can’t help but feel naked. Never in your wildest dreams did you ever think of finding yourself in this situation, but here you were with a stranger who was willing to share his umbrella with you, observing you like a hawk.

“I’m assuming you have a question…”, you spoke out, returning his stare.

His lips fell into a thin straight line as he realised that he must have been obvious. “I… Well, I was curious at why you were sitting here all alone at night. That hotel has been under renovation for months already…”, he explains in a small and soft voice.

You looked at him appalled, completely speechless at what you heard. “Y-you’re telling me that this place has been closed for months?” He nodded meekly in reply, seeming embarrassed as he moved his hands to his nape and rubbed it softly.

There was silence that surrounded you both as everything happening to you started sinking in. This must have been a set up from your company, knowing how much they despised you and wished for your downfall.

As the man beside you felt that you were in distress, he removed his coat and immediately placed it over your shoulders, squeezing it gently. “I know it’s not my place to ask, but if you want you can stay over my place? It’s not that far from here.”

He pursed his lips as he awaited your answer. He knows he’s just a stranger, but he couldn’t help feeling pity towards you. Besides you seem nice enough to be a killer acting helpless, so what could go wrong right?

“How am I sure you’re not some sort of murderer trying to lead me into a death trap?”, you ask after a few moments that definitely assured him you were not a killer.

He lets out a soft chuckle that breaks the stillness and awkwardness of the atmosphere. There was something about his laugh that made you feel warm and fuzzy despite the cold settling on your bones.

“Fair enough, but trust me if I was a killer, I would have gone a different way.” He says reassuringly before standing up and grabbing your luggage.

“Come on! Or would you rather stay here?” He gestures, carrying your things as he goes down the step.

Shaking your head in utter disbelief, you stood up and followed him, keeping a safe distance in case he tried to do something. You heard his laugh as he led the way, the fuzzy feeling growing and when he looked back at you, he gave you a wide and goofy smile that made your heart flip.

“Oh by the way, I’m Sebastian Vettel. But you can call me Seb.” He mentions before turning his back on you and starts walking again. You suppress a smile as you calm yourself down, reminding yourself that you just met the man and you should not trust him easily.

You quietly continued following him, shivering as it got colder even though it stopped raining already. As you both approached an apartment building, you felt a light and cool touch against your forehead.

As you look up to the sky, you witness a mesmerising spectacle unfold before your eyes. Delicate snowflakes, like ethereal dancers, descend from the heavens, gracefully floating in the air.

“S-snow?”, you said dumbfoundedly, halting in your tracks.  When Sebastian noticed that you weren’t following him anymore, he turned back to look at you looking enthralled as snow continued to fall.

“First time?”

As he broke your train of thoughts, you hummed and nodded in response as your eyes never left the sky.

“Guess I’m lucky that I’m the first person you get to experience a White Christmas then, huh?” He chimed, his tone filled with excitement as he watched you.

A few days after the weather report, you started setting up and decorating your home for Christmas as you waited for your husband to come home.

Grabbing your phone from the side table, you texted a message to your husband.

You: Love, when will you be back?

Sending the message, you threw your phone to the side, as you stood up from the couch, and started pacing back and forth in your living room. Minutes have passed and you looked at your phone for the nth time, debating whether you should send another message as you waited for his response.

As you were about to grab your phone and decide to send him another text, your phone notification pinged.

Seb Sugar Pie Honey Bunch: Sorry, liebling. I don’t know if I’ll make it in time to spend the first snow with you. I know how much this means to you, but I promise to make it up to you once I get home.

Can’t wait to be back in your arms. I love you xx

Reading his message, you couldn’t help but feel bummed down. The first snowfall was a special moment you annually celebrated with your husband. You shared many memories with him that included the first winter fall. Your first meeting, first official date, when you answered ‘yes’ as he asked you to be his girlfriend, when he proposed to you, when you got married, all those things happened during the first snow.

And experiencing the first one this year without him, it felt dull and meaningless. So as the next days came by, you did nothing but mope around, spending your morning and afternoon sleeping in your bed or eating ice cream while snuggling under a blanket as you sobbed to cringe, sappy romantic movies.

When the day of the predicted snowfall arrived, you excitedly hopped off your shared bed with your husband and ran down to the living room, waiting by the window.

An hour came by and seeing that there wasn’t any snow yet, you went to the kitchen to prepare yourself something to eat. Opening the fridge, you looked for ingredients you can use to make the easiest and lightest meal possible. Once you got it cooked and prepared, you sat by the island counter, beginning to chow down on it as your gaze never left the window.

Finishing your meal, you washed the dishes and cookware you used, placing them inside the dish dryer and wiping the kitchen and island counter. After cleaning up, you shuffled back to the living room and sat on the sofa as you looked out and waited for the snow.

While anticipating for the first snow to arrive, you kept yourself busy and distracted with everything you see, as well as trying to stray away from your phone. Turning on the television and stereo, you started playing music to liven up the mood, dancing around the living room.

Later when you checked outside, you saw little specks of white falling to the ground. Feeling the course of excitement filling your body, you grabbed the nearest shoes and slipped it on, not bothering to change out of your pyjamas before running to the front door.

As you emerge into the stillness of the wintry landscape, a hush blankets the surroundings. The familiar sounds of everyday life are muted, replaced by the gentle whispers of falling snowflakes. The world seems to hold its breath in awe of the transformation unfolding before your eyes.

While everyone went indoors, preparing for the incoming chilly weather, you stood in the middle of the lawn piling with snow, capturing the beauty it provided. Each snowflake falling from the sky, a unique masterpiece, intricately crafted by nature's hand. They fall gently onto your face and eyelashes, instantly melting upon contact, leaving a cool kiss on your skin. The air feels fresh and invigorating, carrying the scent of winter and a hint of pine.

Letting out a soft sigh as you let the cold envelop you, seeping through your skin, settling deep within your bones. Your breath becomes visible, a cloud of mist that hangs in the air for a fleeting moment before dissipating into the icy abyss. And looking around, you witness the gradual metamorphosis of the scenery. Every surface becomes a canvas for the delicate white flakes, transforming the landscape into a pristine, ethereal landscape. Trees, rooftops, and the ground itself are gradually covered in a soft, velvety layer of snow, as if nature has carefully tucked the world in for a peaceful slumber.

As you stand still, you can't help but be captivated by the silence. The snow absorbs the sound, creating a serene and tranquil atmosphere. The only audible presence is the gentle whisper of snowflakes landing on the ground, adding to the symphony of nature's delicate touch.

Looking up, you see the sky adorned with a tapestry of white, as countless snowflakes continue their descent from above. The world feels transformed, as if transported to a realm where time slows down, and worries and stresses melt away in the purity of the moment.

You hold your palms out to catch the falling snow, closing your eyes in the process as the cool snowdrops meet your skin. You let another sigh out as snowflakes gently make contact with your cheeks, nose, and eyelashes. At that moment, time seems to slow down. You become fully present, completely immersed in the serene beauty of the winter moment. The world around you takes on a dreamlike quality, as if you've entered a quiet sanctuary, a realm where worries and cares momentarily fade away.

Shortly after settling down with the cold, you felt something heavy on your hand, startling you as your eyes jolted wide open. Looking down you see your husband and his chin placed on your palm. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, thinking that you might be hallucinating from missing him too much. But when you opened your eyes the second time and still saw his goofy grin, your eyebrows furrowed.

When your significant other saw the perplexed look your face held, he pursed his lips tightly thinking that he must be doing something wrong.

“Is this not how I’m supposed to be doing?” He asked, looking at you through his eyelash.

You blinked a few times, your face contorting into an even more confused expression as your eyes showed mixed emotions at the thought of the man who told you that he won’t be home is the same man right in front of you right now.

“S-Seb? You’re-”

“Home... Surprise, liebling.” He interrupted, finishing your sentence as he suppressed a smile.

Still resting his chin on the palm of your hand, he tilts his head slightly, his famous gummy grin once more appearing on his face.

You stayed silently still, pursing your lips as your mind continued to process everything before letting out a soft sigh escape your lips as you come to the conclusion that you must be daydreaming.  

“Pinch me, I must be dreaming. You’re not really here, right? Because you told me that you won’t make it in time for this.” You went on, speaking about how he was not supposed to be here yet and other excuses.

As you were in the midst of your rambling, lost in a whirlwind of thoughts and words, you suddenly heard the unmistakable sound of his laughter. It cut through the air like a burst of sunlight, breaking through the cluttered maze of your thoughts and drawing you into the present moment.

The sound was like a gentle symphony, harmonising with the cadence of your own voice. It carried a warmth that permeated the room, infusing the space with a sense of joy and lightheartedness. In that instant, it felt as if the universe had conspired to align your words with his laughter, creating a perfect harmony.

The laughter flowed freely, like a bubbling brook that cascades over rocks, each note infused with genuine amusement. It was a melodic dance, rising and falling, as his mirth embraced your rambling thoughts. The sound of his laughter was pleasing that it distracted you from what you were saying.

And as the delicate snowflakes descend from the sky, gently blanketing the world around you, you find yourself standing in a moment that feels like pure magic. After months of longing and separation, your eyes finally meet those of your husband, and a rush of emotions swells within you.

The air is crisp and alive with anticipation, as the snowflakes create a soft, ethereal backdrop. The sound of muffled footsteps and hushed whispers seems to fade into the background, leaving only the two of you standing together in this wintry embrace.

As you draw closer, a nervous excitement tingles in the pit of your stomach, a mix of anticipation and relief that the long wait is finally over. The world around you seems to fade away, and all that matters is the connection between you.

Your gazes lock, communicating a depth of love and longing that words could never capture. Time seems to slow as he reaches out; his right hand cupping your cheeks while his left hand makes its way to your waist, snaking his arm around you as if he was afraid to let you go. The warmth of your touch contrasts with the coolness of the falling snow, creating a tender juxtaposition.

“How about I do this instead?” He whispers softly, his voice filled with happiness and love as his face advances to yours, his lips mere inches away from touching you.

And in that magical moment, your lips meet. The softness of the kiss feels like a gentle dance, a blending of warmth and tenderness that melts away any remaining distance or time apart. The taste of familiarity and love lingers, as if reuniting with a part of yourself that was temporarily missing.

As the snowflakes continue to descend around you, he tilts his head as he deepens the kiss, a fusion of emotions and longing that has built up over the months of separation. It's a moment of reconnection, a reaffirmation of your bond and the strength of your love.

The world around you seems to hold its breath, as if honouring this intimate and sacred exchange. The soft sound of snowflakes touching the ground becomes a gentle symphony, underscoring the significance of this long-awaited reunion.

As the kiss ends, a sense of contentment washes over you. The weight of the months apart is lifted, replaced by a renewed sense of togetherness and a shared journey moving forward. The snowflakes continue their graceful descent, serving as witnesses to this beautiful moment.

“Y-you’re really here?” You asked once more as the realisation finally settles down, your voice still filled with disbelief.

“I’m really here, my love”, Sebastian assures you, letting a soft chuckle out as he nuzzles his nose against yours, his arms still not letting you go.

You let out a giggle when his nose touched yours, tickling you in the process. You then wrap your arms around his neck, watching him. As you stare at him, your eyes become magnets, drawn to every curve of his face, every twinkle in his eyes, and every subtle expression that dances across his features. Your gaze is filled with wonder, as if you are discovering a masterpiece that was created just for you.

“I missed you so much, Sebby!” You murmured excitedly against his lips before connecting your lips to his once more.

And under the first snowfall, after months of not seeing your husband, the kiss becomes a testament to the enduring power of love and the joy of being reunited. It's a cherished memory that will forever be etched in your hearts, a reminder of the strength and resilience of your relationship in the face of time and distance.

Parting his lips away from yours, he gazes at you, his crystal blue eyes swirling with love and passion then enveloping you in a tight embrace, placing his chin on your head. He soon realised that you must have been cold to the bones as you shivered against his hug and when he pulled away, he laughed a little, noticing that you only had your sleepwear.

“You must have been quite excited that you did not have time to change clothes, huh?” He jokingly asked, teasing you.

You scoffed and gently shoved him, making him chuckle once more before drawing you near him, his arms wrapped around your shoulder.

“Come on, let’s get you inside and I’ll make you a cup of hot chocolate to warm you up.”

“Cuddles too?”, you meekly ask him and he nods, guiding you towards the porch.

“Mhm. And I missed you most ardently too, schatz.” Sebastian uttered softly, gently planting a tender kiss on your temple as you both made your way inside your sweet little home.