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blainesebastian · 2 years ago

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coffee cart girl (pt7)

words: 3,390 ship: austin x female reader summary: you’re the coffee runner on the set of Elvis. Coffee deliveries run pretty easy, until Austin accidently spills coffee on you. notes: you can find previous parts under this tag :) warnings: sexual instances, but pretty SFW tag list: under the cut! sorry if links aren’t working, refer to the link above if needed.

You can begin to feel things start to come to a close on set. No one has really said anything to you, officially, but working on a few movie sets before this, you get into the habit of noticing flow, when things start to wrap up, like checking scenes and shots off a checklist. There’s still a lot to do but you sense the shift coming—it won’t be long until the end of filming sneaks right on up on everyone. Still so much editing and everything that comes after but, it’s there, like the inevitable crisp felt at the dusk of summer days.

Another busy day and with one of the lunch runners off, you pick up the task of delivering food to those stuck in workstations or trailers. You don’t mind, even though Sal’s stressed from the lack of hands to carry out tasks and tends to take that out on other people. You’re still kinda feeling a bit on cloud nine from your date with Austin a few days ago. It brings a soft smile to your face when you least expect it, which is nice because you haven’t been able to see him today.

You caught a glimpse of him leaving his trailer—in a pink pair of slacks, maroon colored lace button down, hanging open just enough to give a glimpse of skin. You’re floored almost immediately at how perfect he looks, hair gelled up, biceps peeking out from under the sleeves, waist trim as his fingers rest on his belt.

Unfair, absolutely.

Letting out a breath, you look for the clipboard that holds the late-night coffee runs—sometimes Austin orders something just to see you.

And there, like clockwork—Butler – black, cream

You smile, moving towards the coffee station to get his and a bunch ready to take where they need to go. There are a few others in the food tent milling around, grabbing snacks in-between takes. You look over your shoulder at two girls that appear to be extras because they’re wearing fifties style clothes, hair and makeup pristine. You’ve been attempting to put together scenes in your head but sometimes it’s hard to keep track of what’s been done and what still needs to be shot.

“I’m actually really surprised at how well he sings,” Says one girl, high ponytail.

“It’s the moves for me,” The other, pink lipstick, giggles and fans herself with her hand. “I watched this interview Austin was in where he said he couldn’t dance—seems like a complete lie.”

You hum just a little, paying attention to the cups you’re filling but also...trying not to eavesdrop, which is difficult. They’re pretty close in the tent and it’s kinda hard not to listen when they’re talking about Austin. Since you can’t be on set yourself, it’s always interesting to hear what others say about being in the film. It’d be so cool to be an extra, especially for the performance pieces…seems like all the girls need to do is have genuine reactions to Austin.

Ponytail grabs an apple, shaking her head. “I heard he was seeing someone.”

You pause almost instantly, coffee almost overfilling the cup you’ve put it in. Your brain kinda restarts because��you’re attempting to convince yourself that this is just gossip, whatever these girls are about to talk about. It can’t be about something real. Gossip and movie sets, they’re kissing cousins. And yet—

Pink lipstick scoffs, “Get out, really?”

“It’s all over Instagram! Or well, this grainy picture, or something—he’s clearly kissing—”

“Vanessa Hudgens?” Pink lipstick gasps, conclusion jumping, “That’s totally who I think it is.”

“No,” Ponytail laughs, picking up an orange too. By this point you’ve turned slightly to look at them but they’re knee deep in this conversation, not even paying attention to or seeing you. “She’s with that other dude, remember?”

“They were so cute together.”

“This is someone else,” Ponytail pulls out her phone, Instagram open and ready when her screen unlocks. You can’t quite see anything, they’re too far away, the hands too fast, the picture too small.

But it feels like you’re about to swallow your own tongue.

“See? They’re outside a restaurant or something, it’s super blurry.” Ponytail pouts, “You think it’s someone from set? He hasn’t been around anyone else—like I follow a few of these Austin news blogs on Tumblr, there’s nothing.”

Pink lipstick crinkles her nose, “Set? Why would he date a nobody? It’s probably another celebrity—maybe a model.”

Ponytail snorts, taking a bite out of her apple as they begin to walk off and out of the tent. “With that body? No way.”

“You’re just mad because you thought you had a chance!” Snickering and giggling.

Their voices kind of echo as they disappear, a high-pitched ringing beginning in your ears and there is…no reason to freak out about this, over nothing. Quite literally nothing, a blurry picture in which you can only assume is from your date the other night. Unless Austin is taking multiple women out to this taco place and as soon as that enters your mind you already know it’s the hysteria talking.

Taking a deep breath, you manage to fill the rest of the coffee orders and keep your breathing under control. You don’t even attempt to lift up the tray and take it on your runs without making a beeline to the hair and makeup trailer.

You need to figure this out and Jillian is the only person to help you do that.

Pacing back in forth in the trailer, you chew on the inside of your cheek as Jillian scrolls through Instagram. It’s quiet, the only sound is your heavier breathing and your friend’s nails tapping against her phone screen.

“Well…” She trails off a moment, “Uh, good news?”

“Which implies there’s bad news.” You state, turning to look at her. You want to lean against the makeup counter and look at Jillian as she sits in her own styling chair but you don’t think you’ll be able to sit still long enough as you talk about this.

“No like…kinda news, middle news—okay news?” Jillian tries, shrugging her one shoulder. She hands her phone over and you finally get a good look at the image circulating through the internet.

It is an incredibly grainy photo but clear enough to see Austin. He’s evidently the focus—whoever took this photo did not have a flash on. It’s not a cellphone kind of blurriness either, this is someone who has a real camera, someone who maybe followed them from set or just so happened to see Austin in the parking lot. It’s hard to tell, it probably doesn’t matter.

There’s a side view of your body, leaning against Austin’s chest, your arms around his waist and underneath his sherpa jean jacket. His taller body angles along yours, creating almost a shield and shadow—

“You can’t really tell it’s you.” Jillian says and her voice is confident, comforting—she’s not just saying what you want to hear. “And I mean…you had to expect something like this might happen, right? If not now, later.”

You close your eyes a moment, giving her back your phone. A headache punches its way through to your temples, making you clamp your jaw shut. Jillian has a point—this…was something that was bound to happen either way. It wouldn’t have mattered if you hadn’t gone out that night—eventually this movie will end for filming and then what?

But even…putting the picture aside, those girls, just talking about it—about you without even realizing it. Are you ready to be flung under the microscope like that? A nobody…that word keeps turning over and over in your head as if it’s stuck on a rinse cycle, that’s what stands out to you. Is this what you really want? Because it’s only going to get worse from here.

Fuck.

“I don’t know if I can do this.” You say, surprised at how strained your voice sounds.

Frowning, Jillian gets up from her chair and smooths her hand down your hair. “Look, I know everything feels heightened because we’re on this film set and that Austin isn’t just some guy you met in a bar. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’ve got real chemistry from spending so much time together. Even that’s obvious in that grainy-ass picture.”

You feel a small smile tug at the corners of your mouth,

“If you’re upset, talk to him about it. That’s the best thing you can do.”

Taking in a deep breath, you nod—you know Jillian’s right. And yet why does it feel so difficult to do?

Despite knowing you shouldn’t, you dive into the black hole of looking on social media for this image. Luckily it only seems to be the one picture, but you’ve seen it in so many different places, on so many accounts, zoomed in, out, re-colored, sharpened, that you’re beginning to see black spots swimming in your vision. Not to mention the range of comments are brutal—

It’s so stupid, none of these people know who you are, nothing is confirmed or denied, and yet the speculation swimming between strangers digs underneath your skin, something sharp. Like poking at an open wound, new pink skin.

Austinfan09: ugh seriously? who is this??? Kelsey_ann: I heard it’s some sort of PR move, gossip to get people to talk about him before the film? sugarkisses: wasn’t he just talking to Vanessa again like last month? silvey39: fake newwwwssss beckybilford: probably hiding her away because she’s ugly lol

This is exactly one of the reasons why Austin avoids social media.

The comments are stupid, they mean nothing—completely superficial conversations that transpire online because it’s easier to hide behind a screen. And yet you can feel a lump in your throat and a pinprick behind your eyes, making them sting.

“There you are.”

It’s Austin, because of course it is—you quickly put your phone back into your pocket, straightening your back. He’s still in Elvis wardrobe, except the maroon lace shirt has been swapped out for a baby blue one with the pink slacks. It’s almost devastating how good he looks, something reaching into your chest and squeezing your ribcage together.

“Been lookin’ for you—didn’t get that coffee I ordered.” There’s this soft teasing to his voice—it’s not really about the coffee, moreso about you not showing up at his trailer.

And shit, you must have actually forgotten to fill his request. You feel like you’ve been walkin’ around like a zombie since talking to Jillian—you wonder if you missed other names or if your brain just blacked out when it came to Austin’s.

“Sorry, uh—” You clear your throat, running a hand over your one cheeks. “Must have missed it.”

Austin pauses, he’s good at reading you. His head tilts down in your peripherals, trying to get your attention. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” That response is far too quick, giving yourself away.

“Y/N.” You lift your chin at your name being said, and once your eyes meet Austin’s blue ones, you feel that same wave of emotion crash over you like a tidal wave. You shake your head quickly—you can’t talk about it here.

He nods and takes a step back from the picnic table, motioning towards his trailer. You manage to keep the waterworks at bay until you’re up the steps, the door closing behind the two of you and dislodging some tears from sitting along your eyelids.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Austin says quickly, reaching for your elbow as you turn to face him. A sharp noise leaves your lips, the sound caught between a sob and a scoff, “What’s goin’ on?”

“What’s going on is that I’m bein’ absolutely ridiculous,” You attempt to take a step back to create some distance but he won’t allow you to get too far, his eyebrows drawing together in utter confusion and concern.

“Someone took a picture of us the other night, outside the restaurant and like—it’s a horrible fucking picture, Austin, you can’t even really tell who it is.” And now, to make it worse, you’re rambling—every emotion and thought spilling from you so fast that you can barely stop it.

“And it’s online, sprinkled everywhere, and it doesn’t matter that you can’t tell because it doesn’t stop people from sayin’ terrible things.” You hiccup, your hand running over your face and leaving it there because you’re crying. This is exactly what Jillian was trying to warn you about happening, things bottling up, keeping everything to yourself. Let someone in—why is that so goddamn difficult?

“And I-I’m being ridiculous because who cares right? These comments don’t mean anything—” And yet they’ve got you rattled for a bunch of different reasons, some to which are feelings that you cannot put words to.

“Shh—hey,” Austin speaks gently, moving to cup the back of your neck. He draws you close, despite you attempting to still push him away, until you’re tucked against his chest. With your height difference, you fit directly underneath his chin, face between his neck and shoulder. Distantly you realize your tears are soaking into his blue lace shirt, your fingers curling a bit into the fabric to ground yourself.

He waits until you’ve calmed down, breathing more steadily in and out, tears drying on your cheeks. His one hand moves through your hair while the other rests along your back, only pulling away just enough to look down at you.

“Look at me,” Austin waits, cupping your cheek. He runs his thumb along your cheekbone, giving you a gentle smile, “You’re not bein’ ridiculous—people will say shit to get under your skin, only opinions that matter are here in this trailer.” He holds your gaze, “You and me.”

You swallow as you look into Austin’s eyes, a calm blue that reminds you of summer water in a lake—a crisp cold, serene, the type that seamlessly settles into your bones. You feel slightly ashamed that you let such strong emotions get the better of you, and yet you know relationships depend on honesty, on being able to talk to someone else.

About letting that person see you, really see you. And Austin does—and he doesn’t look away.

As the night winds down, you spend the rest of it in Austin’s trailer, curled up in his bed. He still has one more reshoot to do, so once he’s sure you’re settled in, he changes clothes and heads back out. The silence of the trailer is comforting, kinda gets your head to stop spinning as you rest against pillows that smell like his cologne. Pants have been discarded, in one of his long t-shirts you found on his bed, and you’re finally starting to feel a bit more put together than you have been all day.

You sigh, closing your eyes a moment as you press your face into his pillow, breathing him in, drifting off for a few. You hear the trailer door open and close, soft moving around, but don’t reopen them until you feel a weight press into bed. A hand slips over your hip, squeezing, and a soft smile spreads over your face as you see Austin dressed back in his own clothes. Pair of joggers, a light sweater, hair slightly damp from washing gel out of it.

“Hi,” You whisper, reaching out to touch a few wet strands on his forehead.

“You sleep in the middle of the bed; you know that right?” Austin asks, raising his eyebrows.

Humming, you shrug your one shoulder—but you’re smiling, fully aware that you kinda hog the space. You don’t hear him complaining, not exactly anyways. Just when you’re about to shift over, Austin moves you over to the right a little bit, a soft squeak leaving your lips as his body rests on yours. You’re on your back, shifting just a smidge to get more comfortable, Austin’s weight warm and relaxed, using his legs at a slight angle against the mattress so he’s not crushing you.

You try not to think about all the places that you line up perfectly.

“How was filming?” Your eyes travel over his face. Lifting your hand, you place it along his cheek, tracing your thumb along his full lower lip.

“S’good—just movement practice for the most part. Baz has me go through entire performances, start to finish.” He presses a kiss against your fingertip, “Think I made a girl blush in front row this time.”

You smirk, “That is not at all surprisin’.”

Austin shifts ever so slightly and you swallow as you can feel him against your legs, pressured heat fizzling in your belly. You think he’s aware of it too, his eyes are slightly darker, like he knows exactly what he’s doing and what effect he has on you.

“And you’re feelin’ better?” He asks, voice soft but pointed, like there’s a purpose to this question.

You nod lightly, distracted, that same heat swirling in your stomach snaking lower and pooling. The physical attraction that’s always been there somehow feels ignited in the stretch of these moments shared, though you’re not complaining. The last time you slept in this trailer, Austin was a gentleman and took the couch—but time has passed between you two, things have shifted and moved forward.

Your hands slip up and under Austin’s sweater, fingers curling into the skin of his back—and for a moment, there’s a breath, a question in his eyes.

To which you answer with a deep kiss, shifting your hips up into his. The groan that responds back from Austin’s throat is enough to light your skin on fire, your legs opening a bit further to accommodate more of his body. There’s a shift that occurs the longer you kiss, hands beginning to wander and explore. You’re not about to sit there and pretend that you haven’t thought about this, at least a little bit, since getting to know him. It seems to be unspoken for Austin too, fingers lingering along patches of your skin that cause you to moan or gasp.

These past few days have been so electrically charged for different reasons that this feels so good, an escape, an outlet, sinking between the sheets with Austin and taking another small step. A lot of logical thinking goes out the window though, especially when he slips a hand between your bodies and toys with the elastic of your underwear.

You nip at his lower lip and he smirks, shaking his head as he pulls the elastic back and slides inside. There’s a pause, almost unbearable heat, your breath skittering in your chest as your head leans back to expose your neck. Austin’s lips are there, right on your pulse point, mapping out kisses as his fingers begin to explore you.

Utterly ridiculous—somehow you just knew he was good with his hands.

You don’t leave your own hands with nothing to do, you move one of yours as well, slipping into his joggers. As fingertips rub heated skin, Austin’s jaw clenches and he squeezes his eyes shut at how good it feels, which only fans the flame building in your lower stomach. You press kisses along his jawline, your bodies angled in almost a haphazard manner as you pleasure eachother—and at one point your arms almost slam together.

“Sorry—” You giggle suddenly because there’s practically a traffic jam of limbs and you can feel Austin smile more than see it when he leans down to kiss you.

Breathing quickens, hands and fingers move faster, edges are reached and soared past, leaving you both as panting messes. Austin’s face is in your neck, breathing you in, lingering brushes of lips against skin. You hum softly, allowing your eyes to close until your heartrate returns to normal.

It’s a slow process of getting up, cleaning up, but once you’re back under the covers you feel like you could easily sleep half of the day away tomorrow. That kind of tiredness that sits in your bones and makes you feel almost heavy.

“Well I’m definitely feelin’ better now.” You tease, Austin drawing you close with a light chuckle before closing his eyes.

Thanks again for all the likes, comments, reblogs and asks! I really appreciate all the feedback and it always makes me happy to hear what ya’ll think. Three parts left for this series!

taglist: @pearlparty, @theinvisiblecapricorn, @kittenlittle24, @andrewgarfields-girlfriend, @mirandastuckinthe80s, @nonsensical-nonce, @softlispoken, @dudinhahoff, @peterparke-r, @lottiee03, @little-diable, @therealwriter17, @bob-the-tomato, @bcofl0ve, @domaniquessidehoe, @oh-austin, @rosequartzluvr, @callthedarknessdown, @laperceval, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @starry-night-20, @ahoyyharrington, @obsessedunicorn24, @lulu-recs, @queenotaku23, @embobemm, @milaa24, @medleyj, @myownparadise96, @butlersluvbot, @girlokwhatever, @pinkle-monade0103, @vintagebitc, @xcallmetaniax, @adoreyouusugar, @karamelcoveredolicity, @thisisntmeok, @kvcssghbjbcd, @mamaspresley, @elvismylove, @chaoticbilly, @pulisvertz, @killerqueenfan

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler drabble #austin butler fic #elvis 2022 #mccall writes things #ccg #ccg series

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odetojeons · 4 years ago

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Will You Punish Me If I Don’t? — Jeon Wonwoo

request: a lil drunk reader × possessive wonu angry sex pls

tags: fem and brat!reader, dom!wonwoo, edging, semi-public sex, angry sex, rough sex, oral sex (f receiving), a tiiiiiny bit of light degradation and spit kink, unprotected sex (stay safe), wall sex (oh yes you read that right), a whole lot of dirty talk, JEON WONWOO IN A CROP TOP BYE, established jeon wonwoo x reader

a/n: this took me a whole fucking day to write it 💀 i think my soul left my body on the meantime and now i’m just a spirit,, but i love this so much, pls, possessive wonu is one of the biggest moods ever 🥵 also i’m sure i made a lot of stupid grammar mistakes that i didn’t realize even after proof reading it, so you’re just gonna,, pretend you don’t see those :)) i hope you enjoy, i made this with all my heart JDJSJDJS

word count: 6244

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You know very well you’re being annoying and petty today.

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You both have been on this damn party for a while and you tried to get Wonwoo to leave and fuck you for at least five times now. You tried dirty dancing on the dance floor; nope. You tried sitting on his lap when he was talking to his friends; nope. You even tried to make out with him; but it only had lasted for a few minutes.

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It had you even more horny and angry. And that is never a good combination when it comes to you.

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But can people really blame you when Wonwoo is looking that good? You have been making a great amount of effort not to stare too much at Wonwoo’s abs peeking from his black cropped shirt, the sharpness of his V-line more visible than it should be legally allowed — it’s bad for your poor heart after all. But you do a poor job of hiding how the whole outfit affects you, because Wonwoo was looking and he had this known glint swimming inside his eyes and it’s got you licking your lips.

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But still, he didn’t do anything.

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Well, not until you used your last resort.

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Your mind threw back to the memory of Wonwoo’s big hand resting on your inner thigh earlier when you were sitting in his lap, the veins in the back of his palm tracing a dirty path up to his forearms. And there’s always a strength, even a possessiveness in the way he holds you, his other hand squeezing a little hard against your waist, grip tightening every time someone stares at you for a second too long. There’s something so raw in the way he acts, like it’s almost unconscious, and it turns you on without a doubt.

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No matter how you looked at other people and tried to rile him up, Wonwoo still remained in his stupid composed behavior, this little acts being the only proof of his jealousy.

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But not tonight. Tonight you were going to make him snap, no matter what. You were gonna make him fuck you rough and fast and give you as many orgasms as you wanted.

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Oh, but you were so wrong. Things totally backfired at you.

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You started by going into the dance floor again, after a few shots of some liquid courage. Swaying your hips at the beat, you tried your best to throw sultry looks at where he was sitting — manspreading, your brain unfortunately added, because he looked so hot doing that — in one of the sofas, eyes set on you like you’re the only thing that he could ever look at.

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You smirked, pleased with his reaction, before proceeding with your plan. Hands reaching forward, you touched the shoulder of the first guy you saw in front of you. It doesn’t take long for him to turn around and smile. He seemed genuinely nice, so you felt a little bad for using him to make your boyfriend jealous, but when you looked at him the guilt disappeared in two seconds.

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His head was hung low, eyebrows frown and fists clenched in where he supported his arms on the sofa. You winked at him and clearly saw how he seemed to almost visibly snarl at your teasing, knowing very well what was your intent with all of that; Wonwoo looked at you like he was about to consume you whole in front of everyone just to prove who you belonged to — and you felt your legs tremble at the idea of that.

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It was a game to see who would give in first; you to your frustration and horniness or Wonwoo to his possessives and jealousy. You couldn’t stop staring at him, the both of you shooting daggers into each other, especially when you turned your back to the guy and swayed your hips obscenely for him.

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But it was when he put his hand on your waist and glued his lips to your ear that things started taking a turn of events; in the next second, Wonwoo was standing right beside you. The air grew thicker quickly, and your breath was knocked out of you at the sight of your — very pissed off and very hot — boyfriend looking down at you.

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“What do you think you’re doing?” Wonwoo’s voice had rang through your ears, loud enough to make you mewl softly even through all the music going on in the background.

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“Dancing?” you asked with fake innocence, batting your eyelashes at him. Wonwoo groaned, grabbing your wrist.

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“Um,” the guy from before started. “I think I should be going now?”

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He waited for an answer, but you and Wonwoo were too busy looking at each other intensively to even care, so he cleared his throat and left.

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“Let’s go,” he stated simply, pulling at you through the crowd so you both could go outside. You giggle a little when you trip on your foot, a bit tipsy with the shots you took.

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And that’s how you find yourself currently being guided until you were both right in front of his car. Your mouth opens, ready to make a clever comment that would surely rile him up and give in to what you want, before he turns around and gets all over your personal space, so suddenly that the words get stuck in your throat. The scent of his cedarwood cologne invades your lungs, sending your mind into a little haze.

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“What were you thinking, letting another man touch you?” Wonwoo says, voice rough and firm, lips pressed into a thin line like he was still holding something back.

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And you don’t want him to.

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“You took too long, and I have needs,” you retort, stepping up into his space too, not wanting to back down even when the sight of Wonwoo’s dark, dark eyes bleeding with lust made a very noticeable shiver run down your spine.

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“What kind of need would even make you want to rub yourself all over someone else that—” he stops himself, closing his mouth before groaning, annoyed. You smirk at him, knowing what he was going to say.

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All over someone else that isn’t me.

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“Hmm, let me see,” you giggle, face centimeters apart from his, your breaths mingling with each other. “A need to get fucked hard, for starters.”

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The intensity of his gaze growing exponentially dark wipes the smile off your face in seconds. You try not to gulp when he scoffs, taking one messy step back when he takes one further.

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“So that’s what this is about?” Wonwoo questions, tone suddenly mean and sarcastic, and there’s heat licking and pooling at your lower belly faster than you expected. His deep voice never fails to leave you trembling. “You’re so desperate to get railed that you couldn’t even wait to get home before throwing yourself at some random dude.”

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Your cheeks tint red in shame and arousal, realizing this wasn’t a question. It was an affirmation, like he knows exactly how horny you are, and you try to remain composed. You are not going to give up until he loses it.

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“Maybe,” you say, a single finger trailing through his torso distractingly, and you don’t even try to hide your hunger when you look at his abs peeking from behind his cropped. Wonwoo’s face hardens at that, and you smile internally in victory. “Why? Are you jealous, baby?”

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He laughs, throwing his head back, but it only serves to make you even more satisfied. That’s exactly the reaction you expected him to have.

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“You’re drunk,” Wonwoo answers instead, and you think it’s endearing how he denies so hard that he’s not possessive.

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“Nope,” you press your finger in his chest again, but he doesn’t even buge from the place. Fuck, that’s hot, you think, licking your lips and watching Wonwoo’s eyes zeroing in the action. “A little bit tipsy? Yes. But drunk? Not at all.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Suddenly, you back away, trying to ignore the way your body protests against the lack of warmth, the lack of Wonwoo.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“So if you’re not jealous, then you wouldn’t mind me getting off with someone else, right?” you trail off, feeling proud of yourself when he looks at you like you just made something emerge from the ground with psychic powers.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“What?” he asks, tone furious, and you jump a little in place with the intensity of it, but soon recovers with a pout.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I mean,” you start, acting like you’re not saying the biggest stupid thing you could ever think of saying, shrugging at him. Of course it was all a lie, there’s no way you’ll ever want someone else other than Wonwoo. “You’re always telling me to wait and wait and wait, so if you’re not that jealous, then maybe I should get someone else to fuck me when you can’t.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo moves so fast your brain takes a time to understand what he just did; in a second you were standing with your glorious bratty attitude, the next you were pushed against the car, one hand squeezing your jaw tight in place and the other holding your wrists behind your back. His bigger and broader body pins yours against the door, and you have a hard time breathing now.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Now that’s a way to sober up.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“No,” he grits out, sounding more like a growl than an actual word. Your heart is hammering like crazy against your chest, and you gasp softly when he pushes your jaw backwards until the back of your head hits the car, neck exposed for him. “No one should be allowed to touch you like this. No one but me. No one.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Then Wonwoo bites the juncture of your neck and shoulder, so hard you think the mark is gonna be there for days. You moan at that, hips kicking and shocking with Wonwoo’s.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You know nobody could fuck you like I do,” he says, sounding smug but also dead serious, and this cocky side of his during such moments never fails to make you wet.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You inhale, reuniting the fight there’s still in you. To be honest the only thing that makes you still retort back is the alcohol. It gives you a special ability of not being able to shut up.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I guess someone else will have to fuck me so I can believe you.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You watch his demeanor change instantly at that; shoulders tensing, jaw clenching and predatory eyes — Wonwoo kisses the breath out of you. He sucks at your body lip, licking at the seam of your mouth, and you gasp, mouth parting and his tongue slides against yours. There’s a hot flash rushing all over you as your body pulses with want; Wonwoo has always been a great kisser, capable of surrendering you putty in his hands.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He kisses you again and again and again, as if someone might take you away. He kisses you like he wants to carve his identity in your soul. He kisses you so messy and hungry that your teeth actually clack and the sounds of your lips dragging roughly and tongues rubbing against each other fills the air around you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo can probably taste the alcohol, if the way he moans is anything to go by.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

It is dirty, lewd and so fucking hot you feel the fight leaving your body momentarily along with your breath, lungs burning with the lack of oxygen. There are a few tears gathering in the corner of your eyes, and you don’t even realize their presence, but then, and only then, Wonwoo pulls away. He bites at your lower lip one more time, a lewd string of saliva connecting your mouths for a short while before it breaks.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Seems like you suddenly forgot who’s name you scream when you’re getting railed,” Wonwoo tells you, voice poisonous and labored breath caressing the skin of your neck. “Should I remind you?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Y-yes,” you moan out, enjoying the proposal, but it only serves to make Wonwoo scoff.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I think you need to learn how to respect me first,” he says instead, and there’s butterflies swarming together in your belly, chest still heaving for air.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Will you punish me if I don’t?” you retort, staring him right back in the eyes.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo growls.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You better shut the fuck up before I make you regret,” he says, and you feel a shiver rocking so bad on your body that your hips collide into Wonwoo’s, his half hard cock pressing against your stomach. The feeling makes you moan.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Why would I?” you ask, trembling voice giving away how much this all affects you. “I want this.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

There’s a bit of silence before you continue.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Make me regret.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Fuck,” Wonwoo groans, biting on your neck again, this time so far up that you won’t be able to hide it that easily. “So needy you can’t even think about anything else other than having a cock drilling into you.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo kisses your moan away, sucks at your bottom lip until it’s swollen. Then, he puts three fingers in your mouth, like he’s telling you to shut up.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo turns his head to look down at your shuddering frame trapped between the side of the car and him. You don’t look up, too focused on sucking at his long fingers, but when Wonwoo starts to move his arm that was occupied by your mouth, you stir, and look up to meet his eyes.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

They’re dark, with a glint in them you could only recognize as devious and wicked and so so so mean. It’s the same glint he gets when he’s about to deal out a punishment, or tease you enough that you believe it’s a punishment. It makes the hair on the back of your neck stand, and a bead of sweat drips from your eyebrow. You wonder what you’ve got yourself in for the night when you both get home.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

As if on cue, answering your arousal hazed thoughts, the hand that was slowly doing a dangerous path down your body settles itself on the front of your pants. It’s heavy on your clit, and you can feel Wonwoo digging his fingers into your entrance. You barely have the sense to react, and even if you could, you reminded yourself you weren’t home yet. Wonwoo now has his hand groping your pussy in public.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your face flushes a dark red at the realization, feeling humiliated and embarrassed under Wonwoo’s grip. If someone were to see, they’d get arrested for sure. Wonwoo’s hand has a strong grip on your clit, fingers quickly slipping past the thick fabric of your denim jeans and lace panties so he could press the pad of it against your naked and wet folds.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You whine quietly, and now that the hold on your jaw has been set loose, you nestle your face further into the crook of Wonwoo’s neck. With a grip on Wonwoo’s jacket, you feel him angling his head so it rests against the top of your head.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Wait, f-fuck, someone might see us!” you whisper-yell at him, but Wonwoo only hums and steps in closer. Your chests are flush together and he towers over your frame easily enough to hide you between him and the car. “Wonwoo—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your sentence gets interrupted by your own moan when he presses a finger inside of you. You quiver, legs trembling, and you let the realization that Wonwoo is about to finger you publicly sink into your stomach. You know that the streets are deserted and there’s not one single soul around there since it’s so late, but the thought of it still has you gasping.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Wait? But weren’t you the one complaining about me making you wait all the time?” Wonwoo bites back, tone mean and unforgiving when he fucks his finger inside of you. He sounds almost angry and it’s making you so damn horny. “Earlier you were looking at me with such a hunger. I bet you were thinking about me fucking you in front of everyone, weren’t you, baby?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You moan because yes, that was exactly what you were thinking. His hand lets go of your wrists when he adds another finger inside of you. It burns a little, you think, but enjoys the pain as your arms fly up to circle around his neck and pull him closer. Wonwoo goes easily, mouth finding yours and fingers fucking inside you in a way that has you squirming.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He soon gives attention to your neck, kissing all over it before sucking a wet blotch against the skin right underneath your jaw. Wonwoo pulls away, looking at it for a while like it gives him some sort of feral satisfaction to see you bearing one of his marks.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Wonwoo, I’m n-not—” your words break off into a whine, struggling to form sentences. “Not— g-gonna be able to hide the, ah, hickey i-if you suck it that far up.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Good,” Wonwoo says, and his mouth finds your neck. You scratch his scalp when he sucks again, this time harder, his arm coming to help you up when your legs give in. “Want everyone to know you’re mine. Only mine to fuck, to breed, to love, to cherish, to make you my little slut.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You throw your head, back arching off of the car and mouth opening to let a high pitched moan scape you. Wonwoo then adds another finger, the third one, and gyrates them so hard inside you you actually feel like you’re seeing stars, figuratively and realistically — the night sky above you is adorned with a few of them.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Acting like a brat and riling me up like that, this is what you wanted, isn’t that right, princess?” Wonwoo spits out, lips pressed into a thin line as if he’s getting more and more angry at his own words. “If I didn’t stop you right there, would you have continued dancing with that dude, huh? Would you maybe have made out with him?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You try to answer, maybe tease him back again, but you can’t even form a coercive sentence. The only thing you can do is hold onto Wonwoo like your life depends on it as he fucks you furiously with his fingers, and take whatever he’s willing to give it to you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Do you think he could finger you like this?” Wonwoo says poisonously, hand squeezing at your ass hard enough that you think it’s gonna leave the print of his fingers. “Think he would have a bigger cock than mine?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He ruts against you as if to prove his point, hard and so fucking big it has you breathless. You know how your boyfriend is well-endowed, know he could make you feel him for days after a good fuck and your mouth salivates. Wonwoo presses the pad of his fingers in your sweet spot, jamming against it without pulling out with quick movements, and you feel like you’re going insane.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Since you put a lot of effort into being a fucking brat today, I will give you what you want, sweetheart,” Wonwoo laughs a little, almost as if he’s mocking you, and your whole face burns in pleasurable humiliation. “I’m gonna be rough. I’m gonna fuck you hard and fast against every surface of our house, gonna make you scream my name so everyone knows you belong to me, gonna use you, make you my little ragdoll and dump you full of my cum until you’re all heavy and swollen with it.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Wonwoo— your f-fuck, fucking dirty mouth, ah—” you thrash in his grip, nestling your face further into his neck and he knew, he knew all along what was your intention with the way you were acting, and you hold tight on his hair, hearing him growl when you pull at it. “I’m gonna come. Gonna cum s-so fucking hard, fuck—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I’ll make it hurt,” Wonwoo warns, his lips ghosting at the shell of your ear and hot breath tickling your sensitive skin, brings goosebumps all over it. “But I’ll make it feel good.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

The pleasure builds quickly and you throw your head back with a loud moan, orgasm almost hitting you like a train.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

But then, everything stops. Wonwoo pulls away, fingers slipping out of you and he wipes them in his jeans. He then goes through his pocket and grabs the car keys, the familiar beep sound echoing through the empty streets when he clicks a button on the key chain, and it’s got you completely dumbfounded.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Come on, get in the car, baby,” Wonwoo states simply, like he didn’t just make the best orgasm of your life ebb away. Frustration sinks deep within your bones and you groan, turning to look at him like he just committed a war crime.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Why did you— why did you stop?” you question, heart almost jumping out of your chest and you feel like you’re going to actually die if you don’t get to come soon. “I was just there!”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Oh, sweetheart,” Wonwoo coos at you like he finds what you just said endearing. Face flushing dark red, you get completely embarrassed with how quick he makes you feel small. “You thought I was going to make you cum?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo comes closer, holds your chin softly, a total contrast to what he says then.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Poor baby, I’m actually going to do the exact opposite.” he pecks your lips once. “Gonna edge you until you cry.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He goes around the car and opens the door for you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Now get in, baby. Don’t make me repeat myself,” Wonwoo says, tone leaving no room for arguments, and you gulp before obeying.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo closes the door for you when you finish settling yourself inside, and goes to the driver’s seat. You watch him turn the car on as you put your seatbelt, whining when your cunt throbs in need. When he starts driving you try your best to move as quietly as you can, squirming a little until you can smooth your fingers through your clit. You gyrate them once, pleasure swarming all over your body, before Wonwoo’s voice wakes you up from your short haze.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“No touching yourself,” he admonishes with a tsk and you groan, frustrated. He’s still looking at the road and you don’t even know how he managed to figure it out that you were touching yourself.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Staring out of the window, your thighs rub together every time the car shakes a little. Your mind supplies unnecessary images of your boyfriend fucking you, and you curse a little. Even trying to imagine disgusting things wouldn’t delete Wonwoo’s words from earlier out of your head, and you’re getting more and more excited by the second.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Wonwon…” you sigh, almost a whisper, hips moving in the air and hands coming to grab at one of your breasts. You smirk, content when you hear him growl.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I said not to touch yourself,” Wonwoo’s knuckles turn white with how hard he grips the steering wheel. “Should I tie you up in our bed and leave you untouched or are you going to start obeying me?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“But you’re not doing anything,” you whine, wanting nothing else then to come.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You don’t know what I’m capable of,” Wonwoo says, voice low and dead serious.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I don’t think you know either.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

The car comes to a complete stop right after you say that. You gulp, realizing Wonwoo has already parked in your private garage. He gets out of the car and goes to your side, opening the door, still in complete silence.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Turn this way,” he orders, voice one octave lower, and you gasp at the roughness of it. “Now.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You spring into action, take your seatbelt off, doing as you’re told, and as soon as you finish turning to him with your legs outside of the car, he gets on his knees.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“W-Wonwoo,” it’s the only thing you manage to say as you watch him work with your pants after taking your shoes off. He ends up popping the button off but you don’t have it in you to complain, not when he’s looking like that.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo finishes taking your jeans off, throwing somewhere in the garage, and then he grabs at both sides of the collar of your shirt. You frown, confused with the action, but then his hands are pulling, and he rips it in half.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Wonwoo,” you moan, beyond turned on as he does the same to your penties. Your clothes are torn apart but you can’t think of anything else other than fuck me fuck me fuck me. “I—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo kisses you shut, lips dragging hard against yours, and you feel his hands at your thighs before he pulls at them enough so that you slip on your seat. He uses the grip to open your legs for him, not even giving you a break to understand what’s going on before sucking on your clit hard.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your back arches, hands scrambling to hold on something — one of them finds the steering wheel and the other finds the wadding of the seat, body thrashing everywhere before Wonwoo pins your hips down in place — knows better than to shove his face in your cunt as you originally wanted to do.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He licks between your folds one, two, three times; the tip of his tongue prods inside your already loose entrance, and fuck if you didn’t moan, high pitched and greedy for more. Wonwoo inserts more of it until his nose is pressed against your clit, doing a sound in the back of his throat that sends just right. The wetness of his tongue feels so good pressing against your cores and kicking at your soft folds.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“W-Wonwoo, fuck— f-feels so good—” Wonwoo thrusts his tongue inside you, and you feel like you’re seeing stars, especially when he presses just right. “Ah! Shit, your f-fucking tongue—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo has to hold you down tighter, your body unable to stay put as you thrash around. You feel tempted to think how your neighbors could probably hear you, but your boyfriend is sucking the life out of you through your pussy and you can’t concentrate well enough to elaborate the thought.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

It’s when Wonwoo curls his tongue just right that has you thinking you would ascend to heaven soon.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Fuck! I, ah— Wanna cum, Wonwon, I’m coming, please— let me cum this time,” you manage to get out, writhing and legs kicking everywhere. “Please!”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

But, of course Wonwoo, being the little shit he is, pulls away. Tears gather in your eyes as you groan out of frustration, and Wonwoo is just so mean.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Shit—” you cry out, watching his shit eating grin. You hate but love at the same time the way he’s absolutely enjoying seeing you so desperate for a release. “Y-you’re so mean.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Are you gonna stop being a brat now?” Wonwoo raises a brow at you, licking his lips. You shiver, knowing that he’s tasting you by the pleased hum he makes after.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Fuck you,” you spit it out, too horny and angry to care.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Is that so?” he hums, looking at you as if you’re his prey, to which you’re starting to believe you actually are. “Maybe I should put a gag in this dirty little mouth of yours.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo traces a thumb in your lower lip like he’s considering the thought.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“But I think I’m just gonna fuck that attitude out of you.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You can’t even bring yourself to enjoy the comment before he pulls on your wrist so hard you get up from the seat, body colliding into his. Wonwoo’s mouth finds yours, the kiss messy and hungry and angry, to the point it makes your legs weak. Your hands scramble to take his shirt off right after you manage to throw his belt somewhere, and you stop for a moment to admire the hard planes of his abs.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo must be the hottest person alive. How can someone have such a handsome face and have a body that looks like it’s sculpted by the gods? He’s getting stronger with his gym practices and it's making you weak.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You might actually drool if you keep staring like that,” Wonwoo says, half joking and half serious, but you blush anyways.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Just—” you try, breath labored and chest heaving. “J-just rail me. Use me.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Yeah? Want me to treat you like the slut you are?” his lewd question makes you tremble and nod your head. “Speak.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Y-yes, please—” you beg, revolve slowly breaking in.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Of course you do,” he answers, voice a few octave lowers again, and he grabs a fistful of your hair. Wonwoo pulls at it until your head is thrown back, his face right above yours. “Open your mouth.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You’re quick to obey, mouth parting as he hovers over you, the only thing keeping you up is one of his arms around your waist.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And oh god, you’re certainly not expecting when he fucking spits into your mouth, a hand coming to press against your jaw and make you close your lips, but you sure as hell want him to do it again.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Swallow.” Wonwoo orders, and you moan, doing as you’re told. He looks at you with a feral satisfaction, eyes dark and so full of hunger it stunts you into silence. It’s like there’s this lustful wish of him to break you in until you don’t belong to anyone else but him, and that’s so fucking hot.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He kisses you for what feels like the hundredth time — not that you’re complaining, he could kiss you for one hundred more and you’d still beg for it. But this time there’s something different, something urgent, and he grasps the back of your thighs when he finishes taking his clothes off and fish something from the pocket of his pants, hefting you up in the air, your legs circling around his waist automatically.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo doesn’t break the messy kiss as he walks through the garage, opening the door that leads to the inside of the house. He doesn’t waste time before slamming you into it as soon as he closes it, your back hitting the wooden frame with a loud thud as the two of you make out like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

There’s too much tongue and too much spit and too much teeth, but the dirtiness of it all is what makes it even more hot.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Want you,” you whine out, realizing that what Wonwoo took out of his pants earlier was a package of lube.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He rips at the top and pours at his hands, reaching behind you to stroke his hard cock, groaning at the feeling as he lines up with your entrance. The wet head nudges your rim softly, but it slips through your folds. You look at Wonwoo only to realize he’s already staring at you, devious glint in his eyes.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You’re about to tell him to hurry up when a moan is punched out of you, high pitched and needy, because Wonwoo fucked his cock inside you in one go, nearly knocking the breath right out of your lungs. Your nails scratch all over his back and he groans at the feeling, hips kicking into you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You like that?” he questions, rhetorically of course, and grinds his hips until they are flushed against your ass. You gasp for air, feeling full to the brim, and the burn in your cunt is just so good. “Think I don’t know about your little plans to rile me up?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo even has the audacity to laugh, jamming inside you with slow but deep thrusts.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“How you get more handsy with your friends when I’m around,” he grits out, anger bleeding through his thoughts and thrusts like he just hates the idea of you touching more intimately other people. “And you look at me with those eyes. Like you’re begging me to claim you.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Holy fuck, Jeon Wonwoo is fucking you standing up and you’re not dreaming.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo is full on mercilessly ramming you now, sending you body into the door with every plunge of his cock, the sound of your back hitting the wood obscenely loud. It leaves you putty, can just take what he’s giving you, hands holding him for dear life.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Should’ve put you on your knees right in front of that guy,” Wonwoo continues, breath ragged from effort. “Make you choke on my cock so he knows who you belong to.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo grabs your ass with his hands, palms sinking into the flash as he propels you back every time he fucks up. It makes the drag of his thickness press right through all the good spots.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Should’ve bent you over the bar counter and fucked you hard until you scream my fucking name,” he growls out, the veins on his neck and arms bulging. You tighten around him in answer to the sinful view. “Fuck, your pussy is so greedy. Always so tight—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo angles his hips just right and hits against your sweet spot so suddenly that your climax — which was already at bay — escalates quickly to the point it sends your mind into a frenzy.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And, for the third time, Wonwoo slows down, hips flush against your ass he can nudge his cockhead right above your sweet spot, missing it on purpose. Your eyes prickle with tears, and it doesn’t take long for them to run down your face; the first one goes reluctantly, but after that they start cascading down your cheeks uncontrollably.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“So beautiful,” Wonwoo groans at the sight of you crying for him, pecking one of your tears strained cheek. “I’ve broken you in, haven’t I?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“P-please, Wonwon— Please, please, please let me c-come,” you sob, all the want to be a brat gone from your body. The overwhelming need grows so exponentially big inside of you you feel like you’re going to explode if you don’t orgasm. “W-wanna cum on your cock, please, ah—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo is moaning, louder than he has all day, and the satisfaction of seeing you give up on your fight and beg for him makes his hips pick up a brutal pace. You gasp, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck and biting at the untouched skin.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“So pretty when you beg,” he compliments, and you actually find surprising your ability to blush even when you’re being dicked down this good. “Does it feel good, sweetheart?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Y-yes— Ah! Hmmm, shit—” you mumble, struggling to get words out. It’s difficult to keep your voice steady enough to say anything with the way you’re bouncing like a ragdoll on Wonwoo’s hold. “Love this— L-love you, ruin me, Wonwoo, Wonwon—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo pulls your head backward with a fistful of your hair, baring your neck so that he could attack it with bites and hickeys all over. You’re sure that, by the end of this night, you’re going to be looking like some type of sexual Christmas tree, but the thought of baring your boyfriend’s marks after sex only turns you on. And he seems pretty intent on that, wanting to claim you in all ways possible.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Say it,” Wonwoo commands, but you don’t understand, can’t understand with your mind being in such a pleasurable haze. He fucks up right in the time he pulls you back down by your waist, downright impaling you on his cock. “Say you’re mine.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Y-yours,” you answer, fingers intertwining through Wonwoo’s dark strands of hair. “I’m yours.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Again,” Wonwoo growls out, basking in your pleads and moans and screams of pleasure.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Yours,” you repeat, and he bites on your lower lip. You have enough of a mind presence to admire his bulging biceps contorting with your weight, and his huge test firm and sweaty from the effort.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Again,” his possessive side gets the best of him, admiring all the marks he has left in your neck. “Say it again.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Yours, ah!” a moan breaks at the end of the word, Wonwoo’s thrusts getting rougher, faster and there’s heat pooling down on your lower stomach. “I’m y-yours, all yours, only yours.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Yes, mine,” Wonwoo agrees, holding your smaller frame tightly against his. “Mine,” he echoes again, muscles trembling from fucking you standing up.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo kisses you, the best he can with the harsh movement of your body going up and down on his cock.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I love you so much,” he tells you, voice soft and rough at the same time. “I have always been only yours.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I’m gonna come, I’m g-going to— going to come,” you state after his words, the pull on your lower stomach growing impossibly higher, and it’s almost unbearable. “Please, fuck, please l-let— cum— let m-me cum! I have been g-good, please, Wonwon—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

”Such a good girl for me. The best girl,” Wonwoo praises, angling his hips a little so he can press his cockhead against your sweet spot every time he fucks inside. “Come on, you can cum, sweetheart.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your eyes roll so far back in your head you’re momentarily afraid they are never coming back. White hot pleasure surges in your body, the sheer intensity of your high sends your mind into a mess. The feeling of your walls clenching like a vice around Wonwoo’s cock sends him over the edge too, and the sensation of his cum shooting inside your walls only serves to add up to what you think it’s the best orgasm of your life, mind going completely blank.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

This might have been totally different from what you’ve originally planned but you know what? You’re definitely going to use this plan more often now.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen smut #seventeen imagine #wonwoo smut #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo #wonwoo imagine #svt imagines #jeon wonwoo #seventeen x reader #possessive wonwoo coming to destroy everyone #including me #svt smut #jeon wonwoo smut

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kpostedsum · 3 years ago

Text

only you

draco malfoy x reader, harry potter x reader

summary: when harry asks you to get closer to a specific someone, what happens if you get too close?

based off this tiktok

song: dark red - steve lacy

a/n: there is infidelity in this fic whomppp and not edited

masterlist | taglist

Something bad is 'bout to happen to me

I don't know it but I feel it comin'

Might be so sad, might leave my nose running

the sky was gloomy on your way to hogwarts, everyone was on edge with the return of voldemort. you stayed with harry, ron and hermione all throughout the summer at the burrow preparing for your sixth year.

“he has to be a deatheater, his father is in azkaban so it makes sense if voldemort would have made him a deatheater in his fathers place” your boyfriend harry tried to explain to ron and hermione. you have to admit, he could have a point— however, no matter how bad draco is you didn’t want to think that of a sixteen year old boy. “well how do you suppose we find out?” asked ron as he awaited an answer from everyone.

“i have a plan but i don’t suppose harry would be too fond of it” hermione said with a waver in her voice. “since y/n comes from a respectable pureblood family, perhaps she can get closer to draco and confirm our suspicions for us—”

“absolutely not. i don’t want y/n any where near malfoy, who knows how dangerous he is” harry said defensively. you have to admit, hermiones plan is smart and is probably the most realistic one there is.

“it’s okay harry” you soothed him. “i’ll be fine, hermiones plan makes the most sense” you said.

“so what’s the plan?”

I just hope she don't wanna leave me

Don't you give me up, please don't give up

Honey, I belong with you, and only you, baby

“love, i still don’t think this is a good idea, what if you get hurt?” harry said as you two were cuddled on his bed together in the boys dorm, basking in each others warmth and security.

“he won’t hurt me harry, he’s a boy just like you— i’m sure if he is a deatheater he isn’t handling it as well as you think. i’ll be okay” you said. a soft silence stilled between the two of you as you enjoyed being wrapped up in your boyfriends arms, occasionally rubbing your nose against his just to hear his giggle that you love so much.

“i’ve just lost a lot of people, i don’t want you to be one of them. if something were to happen to you i’d light the world on fire and never let a flame touch you, just to keep you safe.” he said with a certain look of truth, loyalty and despair swimming in his eyes as he looked at you.

“i’m not going anywhere harry, i promise. i love you, only you” was the last thing you said before the both of you fell asleep, body parts tangled with eachother.

Only you, my girl, only you, babe

Only you, darling, only you, babe

Only you, my girl, only you, babe

Only you, darling, only you

it’s been 3 days since that night with harry, and since then you’ve been trying to get closer to draco, but every time you tried he seemed to disappear. tonight you decided you’d wander outside of the slytherin common room in hopes of him showing up.

“what are you doing here, don’t you belong with the other gryffindors and saint potter?”

there he was. the voice you’ve been waiting to hear all week.

“i’ve grown quite bored of them right now, i figured i need a little excitement in my life. which is exactly why i am here, wandering outside the slytherin common room hoping there’s someone here to cure my boredom.” you said trying to sound as convincing as possible.

“get to the point y/n” he said walking closer to you. “what do you really want? is potter not fulfilling your needs anymore?” he smirked as he backed you against the wall, caging your frame beneath his.

“harry and i are fine, thank you very much” you rolled your eyes. “he’s just too busy right now”

“so you think i’m the cure to your boredom” draco said raising his brows, curious as to where this conversation is leading too.

“i know you’re the cure to my boredom.”

Something bad is 'bout to happen to me

Why I feel this way I don't know maybe

I think of her so much it drives me crazy

I just don't want her to leave me

you and draco have been hanging out every night since that day. some days he’d be there and you’d both talk until the sun rise, and others he wouldn’t show.

you knew you had to ask him about it soon for harry’s sake but you couldn’t bring yourself to do so, atleast not tonight.

“what do you mean you haven’t found out yet? you’ve been spending almost every night with him— which you could be spending with me by the way, and you still found out nothing about him. what do you even do then?” harry exclaimed, clearly frustrated over the lack of information and the fact that his girlfriend has been hanging out with the enemy.

“i can’t just straight up ask him harry!” you say a bit louder than intended. “he has to trust me first, and how can i build that trust with him if we don’t hang out. all we do is talk, i promise.” you said, your voice softening as you weren’t in the mood to argue with your boyfriend right now.

“can we just go to sleep please, i miss you” you pleaded.

“yeah, yeah we can” he said pulling you towards him in his bed, allowing your head to rest in the crook of his neck inhaling his scent. a scent that used to be so familiar but you can feel being replaced.

“it’s only me right?” he asked staring towards his ceiling.

“yes harry, it’s only you. i love you.” you said reassuring him, but also reassuring yourself.

Don't you give me up, please don't give up

Honey, I belong with you and only you, baby

“draco, can i ask you something” you asked looking towards him as he sat on the other side of you looking at the stars on from the astronomy tower.

“what is it?” he responded.

“how come sometimes you don’t show up, some days i’ll sit here waiting for you to show up and you never do. i miss you” you said softly, hoping you can get some information out of him.

“it’s cute that you miss me, i’d be lying if i said sometimes i didn’t miss your presence as well.” he said turning towards you and sending you a smirk. crawling over to him and resting your head on his shoulder, you relaxed against him.

“you know i don’t think you’re as bad as harry makes you out to be” you admitted. it’s true though, harry makes him out to be someone vain, however you find his presence comforting. you look forward to the nights you spend with him, more than you’d like to admit. “you’re quite nice when you want to be and are really good company” you explained.

“oh yeah?” he turned to you.

“yeah” you nodded. “i think harry is blinded by hate, he doesn’t know i’ve been hanging out with you and i’m sure if he were to find out he’d think you’re hurting me.” you partly lied.

“but i don’t think you could hurt me even if you tried” you said peering up at him with a soft smile and big genuine eyes. he adored the sight but he’d never admit it.

“i dont think your boyfriend would appreciate you talking about him like this to his enemy, now would he love?” draco said with a smirk. he knew over the past few weeks you’ve been hanging out your love for harry has been fading, even if you haven’t seen it yourself.

“draco” you said breaking the soft silence. “i have something to confess”

“well what is it?” he said, turning towards you giving you his full attention.

“do you think it’s wrong for someone to feel something for someone they’re not supposed to feel for” you asked, staring into his stormy grey eyes.

“i feel like i should feel guilty, but i don’t. if anything i feel safe.” you continued.

“what do you mean by that?” draco asked, taking his hand and slowly caressing your cheek encouraging you to continue.

when he touched you it felt as if the stars were dancing across your skin. you haven’t felt that way with harry in a while. it felt as if you could be anything in the world, and for some reason, you wanted to be his.

“is it wrong that when i’m with you, i get the same feeling i used to feel with him” you asked. “i mean, for some reason i can’t seem to stay away from you, and i don’t think i want too. i feel safe with you”. you said softly, hoping he understood what you meant.

“i used to think i was crazy meeting up with you every night, but i think it’s the best decision i’ve ever made.” he expressed. “you’ve become something i look forward too everyday, someone i seek out in crowds without even realizing it. i don’t think i want to stay away from you either” he finished.

the air stilled between you two, the only sounds heard were the soft winds of the night.

“draco… can i kiss you?” you asked.

“if you do, i don’t think i’d be able to stop” he confessed.

“and what if i don’t want you to stop” you said leaning closer and pressing your lips against his.

his lips were soft. slightly cold but it was addictive. kissing him felt so good, you might have even forgot how to breathe, but breathing wasn’t important in that moment.

“i’ve waited— i’ve waited so long for this, but i didn’t want to ruin what you and saint potter had” he said as he pulled you to straddle his lap and you pressed harsh kisses against his neck, craving to feel him.

“you didn’t ruin a thing” you said in between kisses. “i ruined it the day i decided to seek you out outside your common room” you continued breaking the kiss.

“i’m glad you did” he said resting his forehead against yours.

Only you, my girl, only you, babe

Only you, darling, only you, babe

Only you, my girl, only you, babe

Only you, darling, only you

whatever you had going on with draco continues for months, hidden kisses between classes and tangled limbs in his bed at night.

the only problem was harry.

“as much as i’d love to brag about stealing potters girlfriend to everyone, i don’t think i can do that” draco said as you both laid in bed together in each others embrace.

“i know, but i can’t leave him yet. it’s just not the right time” you said turning to face him.

“i know” he said turning towards you. “if anything, i enjoy sneaking around with you” he says as he presses light kisses to your neck.

“what are you thinking about” he asks as he notices you’re not paying attention to him.

“harry’s probably wondering where i am, i should probably go to him” you said sadly.

“just be back tomorrow, alright?”

“i’ll always come back to you draco, i promise” you said pressing a kiss to his lips and heading to the gryffindor common room.

What if she's fine

It's my mind that's wrong

And I just let bad thoughts

Linger for far too long

“you’ve been out quite a bit haven’t you” ron said as you entered the common room. his eyes, hermione’s and harry’s eyes all on you.

“i’ve just been trying to get the information you wanted from him” you lied as you took a seat next to hermione.

“we’ll have you gotten anything?” she asked

“no, i haven’t. i don’t think hes a deatheater, i mean it’s been months since i’ve been hanging with him— he would have told me by now” you explained.

“what do you mean he doesn’t trust you, all you do is be with him and stare at each other in class. i wouldn’t be surprised if he had a bloody crush on you by now” harry said quite aggressively.

“we only talk, i’ve told you that already” you said sternly even though it was a lie.

“how about we all go to sleep and discuss this in the morning, it’s quite late” ron said trying to diffuse the tension.

“i agree, it’s too late and none of us are thinking straight” hermione added on to ron’s statement and going straight to the girls dorm, ron going to the boys dorm.

Don't you give me up, please don't give up

Honey, I belong, with you, only you, baby

you and harry were left in the common room alone, the sound of fire crackling becoming more evident and loud as you tried to avoid his gaze.

“i’m sorry for lashing out like that” he said breaking the silence. “i know you and malfoy have nothing going on, i guess i’ve just missed you.”

“i missed you too harry” you said looking over to him.

“c’mere” he said tugging you towards him so you sit on his lap. “i love you, y’know. i don’t think i’d be able to do any of this without you” he continued looking into your eyes with a look of desperation of love.

a look you couldn’t return.

“i love you too harry, only you.” the lies came out your mouth before you could even stop them.

“only you, i promise.”

Only you, my girl, only you, babe

Only you, darling, only you, babe

Only you, my girl, only you, babe

Only you, darling, only you

taglist: @mauvea @teenwolfbitches28 @ilygw @nic0lodean @s1ater @henqtic @justreadingficsdontmindme @i-love-scott-mccall @harmqnia @gwlvr @alishahpotter

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy smut #draco fuckingmalfoy #draco malfoy angst #harry potter #draco lucius malfoy #harry potter angst #harry potter fluff #harry potter x reader #harry potter x reader x draco malfoy #harry potter x ravenclaw!reader #harry potter x ginny weasley #harry potter fic #harry potter x you

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charlotte-of-wales · 2 years ago

Text

H&M Documentary Review: Episode 5

(my commentary in italics)

- Meghan says she felt alone a lot during her childhood and always wanted a big family so when she was pregnant with Archie she was excited that she could give him that (through the Royal Family I mean). Claims she did everything she could to make the family like her and be proud of her.

- Videos of Sandringham 2018 and scarfgate lol

- Harry claims the palace wasn’t willing to protect Meghan and the media noticed that *insert all the times the palace defended her against negative stories and all the time royal reporters claim the palace asked them not to run certain stories*

- Meghan “I wasn’t just being thrown to the wolves, I was being fed to the wolves”. Does she not realize those dramatic and clearly rehearsed lines come across as anything but genuine?

- Meghan talks about Thomas Markle again. Says his interviews talking about the family after the wedding were embarassing to the family and that she reached out to “Her Majesty” asking for advice on what to do and eventually Elizabeth and Charles suggested that she write him a letter (has this been confirmed before, that it was their idea? I find it hard to grasp why they’d suggest something that could so easily be shared with the media like a letter but I digress)

- Meghan also implies the letter would be stolen if she sent it directly to her father so she sent it to her business manager in LA first. Claims the signature from whoever received the letter did not match her dad’s handwriting.

- Harry and Meghan say they wanted to take legal action against the Mail for leaking the palace since the start but the Palace wouldn’t let them hence them searching for private lawyers

- Their lawyer claims she has seen evidence that the Palace briefed against Harry and Meghan to the media to suit other people’s agenda.......I’d love to see that evidence girl for a LAWYER to be making these claims without proof is rather crazy

- They are now saying Meghan was used as a scapegoat by the Palace to make negative stories about the other royals go away

- Videos of them (including lots of Archie) in Vancouver in the Russian oligarch’s mansion

- while in Canada, Harry claims he called Charles and suggested they move to Canada full time in order to still support the Commonwealth and the Queen.....but I thought the Commonwealth was the Empire 2.0?

- Meghan says the royal rota is based in London so they wouldn’t care about what they were doing.......ingenuity (not to use a worse word) at its finest

- She then says “you guys can be in the front pages of all the papers, you can have it exactly the way you want it. and we can just go about doing the work in the name of the Queen” by you guys I guess she mean the royals and we, her and H. This is lowkey shady but also royals need the papers to talk about them doing the work in the name of the Queen to get attention for their charities, which means the Sussexes would still need to have some sort of relationship with the media. Going around Vancouver visiting charities and being shush about defeats the whole purpose.

- Harry: “if you want us to go and do things on behalf on the Queen. we’ll go and do it. And we’ll pay for it ourselves. We don’t want to be dependant on any taxpayer funding. You get us, and you’ll get us for free?” WITH WHAT MONEY ARE YOU PAYING FOR IT YOURSELVES??? Yall stayed at some random shady dude’s house in Vancoucer and used public security provided by Canada AKA TAXPAYER FUNDED. That would never work, unless they were doing something similiar to what they are doing now. Which is precisely why I’m assuming Queen Elizabeth II and Charles were not having this plan.

- gosh the lack of braincells is crazy.....Harry now says they wanted to remove the public funding because it would take the media’s claim to printing stories on them go away. Not how it works love.

- Harry says the palace signed off on him and Meghan moving to South Africa but The Times leaked the news, so the plan was scrapped because it became public debate. (it would become public debate anyway when they announced it + it makes sense to release pieces of information like this to see what the public is thinking so the leak could have been a good thing but oh well)

- Interesting. Harry says that if their move to Canada didn’t work they were willing to let go of their Sussex titles.....why are you still using them then??

- Harry says the Queen wanted to see him and Meghan when they came back from Canada and told them she wasn’t busy. Right before they got to the airport, Harry was told he couldn’t see her because she was busy. He called her and she said she was told she’d be busy all week. The implication here obviously being that they tried to keep her away from him and, once again, he sounds quite angry when he says it. They keep trying to sell this narrative that Elizabeth was this naive innocent thing being used as a puppet by Charles and William and it’s sad. Plus.......Harry, buddy, she is literally THE QUEEN OF ENGLAND. She could very well be unexpectedly be busy.

- Meghan: “his dad say put it (their plan to move to Canada) in writing. And he did, and just five days later it was on the front page of a newspaper. “ Harry openly said the palace leaked the news.

- Meghan *once again* talking about their wishes to keep supporting the Commonwealth and for the first time they talk about their role as President and VP of the Commonwealth’s Trust........when they were shitting on the existence of the Commonwealth two episodes ago. Got it.

- Harry said that with their instagram statement announcing they were stepping down, he didn’t blindside the Queen and he would never do that because he has so much respect for her. Says these discussions went on for months and months. *sure did but were the Queen, Charles and William aware of your statement? Did they agree to the terms y’all decided? No, huh?

- Harry and Meghan were angry she wasn’t invited to the Sandringham Summit because she is “the mother, the wife and the target”.

- Harry: “I went in with the same proposal that we already made publicly”. HOW DO YOU NOT SEE WHATS WRONG WITH THAT STATEMENT???? HOW IS THIS NOT BLINDSIDING THE ROYALS????

- Harry complains about not being allowed to do the half in/half out thing. In his own words, to be able to have their own jobs while also working to support the Queen.

- whoop there it is, the bit about William. King behavior (wish someone recorded the yelling bits, for science)

- gosh I’m bored how am I only half way through

- interestingly enough....Harry defends the Queen by saying her main goal was to protect the institution and that’s what she was taught. Says she will follow whatever advice she’s giving regarding the Sussexes as if this woman doesn’t have a working brain of her own and hasn’t been doing this job for decades.

- the bs Harry is saying about the family is so much worse than I thought god

- “I think, from their perspective, they had to believe that it was more about us, and maybe the issues that we had, as opposed to THEIR PARTNER, the media, and themselves, and that relationship that was causing so much pain to us” calling the media the royal family’s partner is WILD

- Harry says one of the saddest parts in all of this is the break of his bond with William and William has chosen the institution’s side.

- THE HYPOCRISY OF THIS MAN, complaining about William putting out a joint statement with Harry’s name saying that William did not bully him out of the family because he never agreed on it WHEN HE RELEASED A STATEMENT ON INSTAGRAM ANNOUNCING HE WAS STEEPING DOWN FROM THE FAMILY THAT THEY NEVER AGREED ON

- “in four hours they were happy to lie to protect my brother and yet, for three years, they were never willing to tell the truth to protect us” my brother in Christ YES THEY DID MANY TIMES (also William is literally the heir????)

- the way they edited this doc made this whole thing seem so petty because it’s almost like Harry saw the palace protecting his brother and said “yeah?” and left in retaliation like a child

- oh my god, the white man got tired of lecturing us on racist and started us on misogyny. Go on, king, keep telling us about things you have 0 knowledge on x

- gosh all these two do is sit around in other people’s homes

- talking about bots and online hate

- this one woman saying that by targetting “symbols of social justice” it tells other people to stand down???? girl

- footage of them meditating and crying over this audio of someone telling them they are not who the media says they are I’m uncomfy

- lots and lots and lots of pictures of them at Frogmore Cottage during their farewell tour and why even bring a professional photographer along??? so odd?

- Meghan “until that last week in the UK I rarely wore color why are we still talking about this yes you did

- they say they would come home after engagements in the farewell tour and think they could do this forever. They both say they miss the British public but not the press.

- Meghan says on the plane back from the farewell tour, a crew member kneeled next to her seat and said “I appreciate everything you did for our country”. She says it was the first time someone noticed the sacrifice she made. Meghan says she tried so hard but it still wasn’t good enough and she still didn’t fit in.

- oh yikes pictures of the Waleses’ Carribean tour, including the fence pictures

- Harry: “anyone inside that system, whether it’s my family, whether it’s staff, whether it’s PR, whoever it is, have already miss an enormous oppurtunity with my wife and how far that would go globally” I see Harry missed the lesson on tokenism when he was taking his ‘white savior and racism 101′ crash course. That’s what you’re describing here, buddy, to use a woman of color to prove a point.

- by the way, they’re talking again about the disconnect between most people in the Commonwealth (mainly black and brown people) and the Royal Family. They talked about Barbados and how many countries should follow etc. (again I can’t miss the irony in H&M getting these clearly anti-monarchist to talk in their docs because the only reason they even got a doc or a platform in the first place was because of the family)

- “their departure felt like the death of a dream” the dramatics goshhhh

- Harry complaining about the palace removing their security but.....I thought you didn’t want to live on taxpayer funding? I thought you could pay for everything yourself? What’s the issue bud?

- episode ends with them talking about covid, and fears of the border being closed which led them to LA.

They somehow manage to make this more boring and yet more frustrating with each episode? Anyway can’t wait to get this over with lol

#susx doc

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itadorisgf · 4 years ago

Note

Hello! I dont know if your event is already full or not because your last update was a few hours ago. If it still has a slot for one more, may i please request megumi touching you (not in a sexual way, just like platonically / romantically) to get your attention? I think this was from the first promt. Thankyou!

— fushiguro megumi + touching you to get your attention

⤷ anonymous asked: Hello! I don't know if your event is already full or not because your last update was a few hours ago. If it still has a slot for one more, may i please request megumi touching you (not in a sexual way, just like platonically / romantically) to get your attention? I think this was from the first prompt. Thank you!

note: this turned into a whole fic…the part where gumi touches you to grab your attention is rather brief, but i still hope u like this!!

ft. fushiguro megumi

warning: gn!reader, second-year!reader, fluff, blood, pre-relationship so pining!reader

⤷ the flower shop

You are going to kill Gojo-Sensei.

Your mouth flattens into a tight line, brows pinching together to form a deep crease, as your grip on your phone tightens. The bright image pulled up on the screen of your handheld device is the cause for your ire. It’s one of a series of images that Gojo-Sensei has sent to your group chat with your fellow Second-Years of Fushiguro Megumi looking worse for wear. Though the images are all rather blurry, you can clearly make out the injured state Fushiguro’s in: his uniform is dirtied and his face is scraped up with what looks like fresh blood streaming down from his hairline. You’re sure Maki will get a kick of Fushiguro getting his ass handed to him, but you’re more concerned about Fushiguro’s current physical state.

He must not be too severely injured if Gojo-Sensei is texting you Second-Years pictures of Fushiguro all beaten up. This should help alleviate your stress, but it doesn’t. Your gut still churns uncomfortably at the thought, at the image, of Fushiguro injured, seriously or not.

You exit the images to view the chat. You roll your eyes at Gojo’s text message, which accompanies the many pictures he sent of Fushiguro.

Gojo-Sensei: Look who got beat up!!!

As a teacher, he really shouldn’t sound so thrilled at the prospect of his student getting injured, but then again, Gojo-Sensei’s not exactly a respectable teacher in your eyes. Your eyes scan the rest of the messages from your classmates. Given the time difference, you would guess that Yūta is most likely busy with his day right now all the way on the other side of the world, hence his lack of response. You make a mental note to shoot him a text soon and check in on him. You know Yūta well enough to know that he’s probably running himself ragged. Toge’s in the middle of a mission right now, which only leaves Panda and Maki available to reply to Gojo-Sensei’s message.

You were correct in your assumption that Maki would be pleased with the pictures, her text asking if Gojo-Sensei managed to get a video of Fushiguro getting beat up. Panda echoes that sentiment by responding with arrows pointing upward underneath Maki’s text. Your thumbs hover over your keyboard, contemplating if you should reply or ignore the chat.

“Is Fushiguro alright?” You hit send before you can overthink and toss your phone onto your nightstand. When your phone loudly pings, you scramble in the dark to grab it, unlocking your phone to view the response. You flip onto your stomach, burying your face into your pillow with a loud muffled groan.

Maki: Aw, are you worried about your lover boy?

You should’ve never confided in Maki about your small crush on Fushiguro. Well, it’s not like you were the one to bring it up. When Maki had casually slipped into your conversation that it’s gross how much you resemble a lovesick puppy around Fushiguro, you were taken aback and attempted to refute her observation. However, your best friend knows you like the back of her hand and bluntly stated that it’s obvious you’re pining for Fushiguro. You winced when she told you that. Was it really that obvious? The pointed look she gave you in return confirmed that yes, it was that obvious. Luckily for you, Fushiguro is one of the densest people you know when it comes to the realm of romance so to your knowledge, he’s still completely clueless to your feelings.

Your classmates all know of your feelings for the First-Year, but they don’t meddle in your love life. The most they do is tease you or give you knowing looks, which you brush off as quickly as you can while you try to rein in the resulting heat that floods your face. No, it’s not your classmates you have to worry about. It’s your idiot of a Sensei who has nothing better to do with his life than to concern himself with his students’ love lives despite being the strongest Sorcerer there is. If you could, you’d sock him right in the gut for the number of times he’s attempted to push you and Fushiguro together. The awkwardness that came from those experiences still makes you want to crawl into a hole whenever you think about it for too long.

The vibration of your phone in your hand draws you out of your thoughts. You grimace when you read the text message.

Gojo-Sensei: Don’t worry!!!! Your lover boy is alright, but I bet he’d feel better if you checked in on him. ;)

You can clearly envision Gojo-Sensei’s glee on the other end of the phone. The man feeds off of embarrassing his students. You opt not to respond anymore, clicking out of the application and turning off your phone. Gently placing your phone onto your night stand, you tug your comforter up to your chin and close your eyes for the night.

Perhaps, you will check in on Fushiguro later.

“Oi, quit zoning out.”

You groan in pain when Maki sharply jabs you in the stomach with the end of her wooden bo staff. She gives you an unamused look when you toss a harsh glare her way.

“I’m not zoning out,” you mutter, readjusting your grip on your respective staff to continue the light sparring session you and Maki are engaging in. She doesn’t bother to restrain herself from rolling her eyes as she counters your strike, easily knocking your staff out of your hands. You’re quick in your attempt to grab your staff again, but Maki cleanly sweeps your legs out from under you, sending you crashing face first in the dirt.

“Right, and Mai and I have a wonderful relationship,” She sarcastically says, digging one end of her bo staff into the ground and leaning her weight against it. “He’s fine, you know? You shouldn’t worry so much about him. You should be more worried about me kicking your ass.”

You loudly whine when Maki brings him up and flop onto your back to gaze up at her. “Who said I’m worried about Fushiguro?” You childishly huff, propping yourself up and leaning back onto your forearms. Your expression scrunches up in distaste as dirt uncomfortably sticks to your sweaty skin.

Though you’re attempting to deny it, of course, you’re worried about Fushiguro. Although Maki already knows how you feel about the First-Year, you’d rather skirt around the subject and pretend that you’re much better at hiding your emotions than you actually are.

“Who said anything about Fushiguro?” Maki innocently cocks a brow, but smirks to herself as you murmur a low fuck underneath your breath. Damn, you walked right into that one.

“I hate you, you know that?” You deadpan, staring straight into Maki’s eyes.

“Yeah, I hate you too.”

The corner of your lips twitch up into a hint of grin as Maki offers you a hand, pulling you up onto your feet.

You wrap up your training session not long after that since Maki claimed that she didn’t see the point in continuing to spar if you’re not going to give it your all. “There’s no fun in beating someone over and over again,” she sighed as you were knocked to the ground for what felt like the hundredth time that day. You gave her a half-hearted glare in response to that comment.

Freshly showered, you’re now lounging on one of the benches placed near the dorms, occupying your time by scrolling through social media. You try to convince yourself that you’re hanging around outside because you want to enjoy how nice the day is, but you, and everyone else, know better. Fushiguro, and presumably Gojo-Sensei, should be coming back from their mission soon. Although you know that Fushiguro wasn’t seriously injured, you also know that the tight coil of worry in your stomach won’t go away until you see it with your own eyes that Fushiguro is, indeed, okay.

“Senpai?” The sudden noise startles you and you scramble to sit up straight. You unconsciously smooth out the creases in your clothing as you meet the eyes of the person who called you.

“Fushiguro,” you breathe out, relief heavily laced in your voice. You push yourself off the bench to stand on your feet and quickly scan his form for injuries, brows furrowing when you see the numerous bandages littering his face. It’s only when Fushiguro shifts underneath your intense gaze that you realize how long you must have spent staring at his face. Great, now he’s going to think you’re some sort of creep, you think to yourself. “H-how are you feeling?”

You internally wince at your slight fumbling over your words. You’re just glad nobody else is around to witness this encounter, Gojo-Sensei and Maki would find way too much delight in your distress.

Fushiguro brings a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. A hint of redness seeps out from underneath his bandages, staining his cheeks, as he reflects on how badly his simple retrieval mission turned out. He’ll leave it up to Gojo-Sensei to explain to your class about Itadori and how he’s Sukuna’s new vessel. He wonders how you all will take it.

“I’m fine, Senpai,” he replies, grimacing as the pads of his fingertips run along the gauzy material of the bandage firmly wrapped around his head. Heat floods his cheeks when he looks up to see the genuine concern in your expression. Fushiguro’s thankful that the bandage on his cheek manages to partially conceal the flush of his skin. “Really.” He adds on for extra emphasis. You still look unconvinced, but you nod along as if you actually believe Fushiguro’s words.

“Well, that’s a relief. I was worried about you when Gojo-Sensei sent us those pictures of you all bloodied up,” you say with a sheepish grin.

“You were worried about me?” Fushiguro questions with a slight raise of his brow.

Oh fuck. For a moment, you say nothing: frozen completely still as your brain attempts to process the fact that you just told Fushiguro, to his face, that you were concerned about his well-being. Maybe, he’d interpret your words in a friendly way. Perhaps, he would think that you were just being a good upperclassman and looking out for him. If you were lucky, Fushiguro would think nothing of your comment.

“Senpai?” A sudden weight on your shoulder pulls you out of your internal panicking. Fushiguro’s hand lightly rests on your shoulder as a concerned expression lies on his face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Fushiguro,” you assure him. There’s still a slight frown in place, crinkling the bandage stuck on the corner of Fushiguro’s mouth. You inhale deeply in order to muster up as much courage as you can for what you’re going to do next. “I promise.” Your voice softens as you gently place your palm over the back of Fushiguro’s hand.

Fushiguro stills underneath your touch and you have to restrain yourself from giggling at the intense redness that floods his cheeks. His flush deepens even more when you find yourself unable to completely suppress your amusement, your quiet laughter filling the air. He’s quick to draw his hand off of your shoulder to rest by his side.

“Good. I’m going to go rest in my dorm now. See you later, Senpai.” His words nearly slur together with how fast Fushiguro spits them out. You don’t even have the opportunity to say goodbye in return as Fushiguro swiftly turns around and rushes inside of the dorm building.

He’s awfully cute when he’s flustered, you muse. A silly grin crosses your face unconsciously as you attempt to sear the image of Fushiguro blushing into your memory. Maybe, your feelings aren’t as unrequited as you think.

“Ah, young love.”

You jolt, spinning around to face the owner of the voice. Your grin falls as soon as you make eye contact with the individual.

“Gojo-Sensei,” you deadpan. Your brow twitches in annoyance at his elated expression. Knowing him, he probably eavesdropped on your entire conversation with Fushiguro. “If you took any pictures or videos, I am going to kill you.”

His grin only widens at that.

“Too late.”

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jjk scenarios #fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi x reader #fushiguro fluff #megumi fluff #flower.shop #flower.shop: violets.#celeste.scribs #celeste.adores #adoring.fushiguro

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gohyuck · 4 years ago

Text

smoke and cherries

or, alternatively, bonnie & clyde

pairing: criminal!jeong yunho x criminal!reader

genre: fluff (between yunho & the reader), some suggestiveness

warnings: mentions of smoking cigarettes, armed robbery, guns, theft, what is literally cold-blooded murder actually (minor character death of a convenience store clerk), reader and yunho are definitely like… screws lose in a murdery way, reader sucks blood off of yunho’s fingers for a second (i’m so sorry it’s kinda fucked up), yunho blows his smoke into the reader’s face but it’s like consensual, littering

word count: 1.4k

“since when d’you keep suckers on you?” yunho lets the question escape out the side of his mouth in tandem with the smoke of his cigarette, and when you look over at your other half, his expression is as amused as his words are inquisitive. his eyes are already back on the road ahead of you, though you don’t doubt that he’d been gazing upon you a second ago when he’d asked about your new vice. you swirl your tongue around the bright red candy one more time for good measure before pushing it into one of your cheeks, stick jutting out the very corner of your slightly chapped lips.

they hadn’t had cherry back when you’d been growing up, the concept of it only having been introduced during your high school years. you find that it’s your favorite flavor now. perhaps novelty doesn’t wear off.

“since this mornin’,” you respond after a beat, your lips pulling into a teasing grin while you allow your words to sink in. once the meaning behind your words has settled, yunho can’t help but laugh softly but genuinely, removing the Lucky Strike from between his lips before resting his hand, cigarette between two lithe fingers, over the edge of the window. it’s a sweet moment between lovers; a shared secret.

between the soft mirth in your eyes and the red stain on your tongue, between yunho’s rounded features and good-natured gaze , there’s not an outsider in the world that would guess just what the two of you find so funny.

you’d grabbed a bag of lollipops at the Southland Ice Company store the two of you had hit up in the morning. there’d been a sign - hand-painted, by the looks of it - on the wall above the candy bin, something or the other about a discounted rate. free is a discount, right?

the two of you may seem sweet, unassuming, even kind in this stolen moment, but if anyone knows better, it’s you. then again, not many people have seen you with red stains on your clothes and lived to tell the tale. even less have survived yunho when his eyes switch from soft and loving to a cold, steely glare. he never looks angry, no: just soulless. you have never seen your lover feel remorse.

this thrills you. birds of a feather.

you let your tongue wrap around the lollipop once more, wrapping a finger around the stick to pull it out of your mouth for a second to savor the flavor that now coats your tongue. there’s a torn-open package with other cherry candies in the back somewhere, hidden under piles of other things that were free-but-not-really. the clerk had been too busy cowering under your boyfriend’s sneer - and the barrel of his Browning Automatic - to notice you swiping the suckers.

on one hand, you can’t imagine a better image to see before dying: there’s something undeniably sexy about yunho with his finger against a trigger and a lack of soul behind his eyes. on the other… it’s just a little fascinating, you think. working day in and day out at a shitty job must be the most awful, crushing thing possible, and yet the fool behind the Southland counter still wants to live. he’s still sobbing, snot running over his lips and a wretched, choking noise bubbling up from the depths of his throat as he begs for his pathetic little life, hands shaking as he drops stacks of bills into the bag in yunho’s other hand.

you stuff the lollipops into your own oversized bag, scouring the shelves for things of more worth. there’ll be a shady dealer or two in a neighboring city that’ll be willing to take most anything off of your hands, you’re sure of it. at first, the man’s hysterics don’t really bother you: this is fairly run-of-the-mill. still, your patience wears away over time: there’s only so much caterwauling you can take before your eardrums beg for release.

“baby,” you call from one end of the store, dropping a few bottles of medicine into your bag, not bothering to read their labels. the bawling rises in volume at the sound of your voice. before you can say anything else about getting the collateral to be quiet, yunho beats you to it.

“shut the fuck up,” he growls, voice loud enough and low enough that you can hear him clearly despite being across the cramped building. there’s a dull thunking noise, followed by a soft whimper, and you know that the barrel of yunho’s rifle is now against the clerk’s forehead. you can’t help the giggle that escapes you: you love this part. your boyfriend lets out an airy chuckle in response to your laughter, because what makes you happy makes him happy.

“you done?” yunho calls, and by how light his tone is, you know that he’s talking to you. you take a moment to sift through what you have, and, upon realizing that you’re done for now, you call out an equally pleasant ‘mhm!’.

“go ahead and get the car started for me then, darling,” your lover responds. the clerk lets out a wet gasp, not knowing if this means life or death for him. poor, naive, still-hopeful little thing. yunho pushes the cool metal into his skin with a miniscule amount of heightened force as he speaks to you with the casualness of a white picket fence couple in suburbia. “i won’t be but a minute.”

the bang had been muffled, but you’d heard it nonetheless, even from the car, just as you’d grabbed a couple of lollipops from the package before throwing the whole thing back into the back seat. just as yunho’d stalked out, bag full of cash and dirtied gun in hand, you’d slid into the passenger seat. he’d dropped everything into the back alongside your stuff before hitting the gas, making you fear for your life for one beautiful moment before regaining control of the car.

he’d raised a hand up once he was sure of his place on the road, placing two fingers against your lips. you’d tasted the clerk’s blood then, sitting heavy against your taste-buds as you pulled it off of yunho’s skin. you know his process well: even after putting a hole in the poor man’s head, yunho would’ve wrapped one of his hands around the victim’s throat, mostly to ensure his death. you can never be too careful, after all.

you could see it clearly, the blood dripping down the side of the dead man’s face and over your boyfriend’s fingers. there’s something surreal about it. always is. yunho had pulled his fingers from your mouth with a pop, laughing softly when you’d nipped at his fingertips for a moment before pressing a kiss to his knuckles. he’d dropped his hand to your thigh just as you’d lit a cigarette for him. the same hand is currently wrapped idly around the top of the steering wheel.

“thought you were gonna use the candy to try ‘n quit cigs for a second there,” yunho states at a stop light, taking a drag of his own cigarette before turning towards you. you don’t turn towards him, knowing full well that he’s going to playfully blow smoke at the side of your face.

he does so. you can’t help your smile.

“you’re the one that needs to quit,” you respond easily, rolling your eyes solely for good measure. you aren’t lying, not really: you smoke maybe once or twice a day. your lover goes through a pack in the same time. the smoke wraps around you like an old friend. nobody in the surrounding cars knows who you are, what you do. you feel safe. yunho drops the cig stub out the window onto the road, and you realize he’d blown his last smoke cloud at you. your smile grows.

“i need to quit, hm?” he raises an eyebrow, though his eyes smile just as his mouth does.

“you’re the one that’s addicted.” you affirm your own claim, words a little slurred around the lollipop in your mouth. yunho laughs, real and loud, before reaching over to pinch the end of your lollipop’s stick, tugging on it gently. you realize that he isn’t trying to take it from you; rather, he’s simply pulling you closer to him. you oblige.

he pulls harder once, and you part your teeth to allow him to pull the sucker off of your tongue. yunho leans close, lips brushing over yours, before he speaks again.

“the only thing ‘m addicted to is you, sweetheart.”

he tastes of real smoke, and you taste of fake cherries. it doesn’t get any better than this.

#yunho fluff #yunho smut #yunho x reader #jeong yunho x reader #ateez fluff #yunho #ateez smut #yunho scenario #yunho scenarios

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pirate-au · 4 years ago

Text

A Pirate's Life for a Prince (Part 2)

Summary: Roman was a dashing Captain, content with his exciting life out at sea, diving head first into adventure both on and off land. He wouldn't give up his life for anything, and yet he found himself...lacking something. He was never sure what.

When he meets Virgil, a seemingly common traveler in an old tavern, that lacking feeling in his chest goes away for the first time in a long while. So surely there's no harm in offering the stranger and his friend a ride, right?

Notes: TW for panic attacks, brief suicidal thoughts, mentions of abuse

Thank you again to @cheshirevalentine for editing being the best

part 1 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

Virgil lowered himself to the bed, hands trembling as the weight of his decision finally dawned on him.

He pushed thoughts of Roman out of his mind for now, how the Captain had just given up his room for him, and instead turned his attention to an exhausted Patton who clearly just wanted to go home.

“They said they aren’t leaving until morning,” he said, watching as Patton lowered himself to the chair across the room. “You can probably still sneak off. I’ll be fine, I’ll… make up some excuse for why you left.” Patton looked up at Virgil as he spoke, lowering his hands from where he had been rubbing his eyes under his glasses.

“What do you mean? It's much too late to be out and about, and I'd make it heck for myself getting back on the ship before they leave."

“You wouldn’t need to get back on the ship.” Virgil leaned forward, fighting the urge to fall back on the bed and close his eyes. He could feel the exhaustion weighing down on him, thick and heavy. “You’d go back home. I’d just rather I get to say goodbye than you being gone when I wake up tomorrow.”

Virgil stared at his lap, painfully aware of Patton’s eyes on him, hands clasped in his lap as he tried to ignore the ache in his chest, pushing down a sob at the thought of losing Patton. The man had been there nearly as long as he could remember. To be without him would be foreign and terrifying.

“Why would I be gone in the morning?” Patton asked. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, kiddo, c’mon.”

Virgil couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He really wasn’t in the mood to be given false hope out of kindness. Patton wouldn’t rat him out, he knew that, but he wasn’t going to uproot his entire life when Virgil couldn't even repay him. “You’re not coming with me, Patton. I’m never coming back.”

“I figured you weren’t coming back, Virge,” Patton said, his concerned frown only deepening. “Do you not want me to come with you? I figured you might, I know you hate being alone around new people."

“No, I… of course I want you with me,” Virgil said. He’d always known that one day he’d have to say goodbye, and it hurt, but Patton was… really not making it easy. “Pat, I'm spending almost everything I have on this ride. I'll barely have anything when we make it to Deigh. I can't pay you anymore.”

Patton just shook his head, leaning back in the chair. “I don’t care if you pay me, Virge. It’s not about the money.”

Virgil blinked, wondering if the stress and lack of sleep was making Patton delirious. "Pat, that's… that's why you're here. You stay with me because someone pays you to, and I can't do that.”

“I stay with you because I love you,” Patton said softly. “Not because of my job. You know I’d follow you to the ends of the Earth if you asked me to.”

Virgil let out a shaky breath, unable to look at Patton as he wrapped his arms around himself. "You don't have to do that. I've known you were paid to stay with me since I was a kid, Pat. I just… really would rather say goodbye now than never get to."

“We’re not saying goodbye. I don’t care about my job, Virgil. I care about you. I stayed with you because I loved you, not because I got paid.”

“Right,” Virgil scoffed, desperately trying to keep himself from crying. “You don’t care about getting paid. So if the king offered you more money than you’ve ever seen in your life to bring me back, you wouldn’t take it?”

“I wouldn’t take you back for all the money in the world,” Patton said firmly. Virgil knew that if he cried Patton would follow, so he had to hold it together for both of them. Patton’s voice seemed to falter for a moment, the man looking down at his hands. “You don’t know how much I wanted to get you out of there.”

Virgil sniffed, rubbing his eyes and staring down at his lap, listening to the creaking of the boat as people moved around above them.

“We used to talk about it a lot,” he mused. “When I was younger. I always asked you when we were running away, and then I... “ He trailed off, wiping his face insistently. He couldn’t cry. It was for both of them. “I grew up and I never... thought we actually would.”

“Well, we are,” Patton said. “You’re not going back. Not ever again.”

Virgil hunched his shoulders, still refusing to look up. “You… you have a life, Pat. You have responsibilities. I’m not worth leaving all that behind.”

“You’re worth the world, kiddo. You’re worth so much more than any amount of money the King could offer. I love you more than anything, you know that. I’m here to stay, just like I always have. I promise.”

“You have family—”

“You’re my family,” Patton interrupted. “You’ve been my kid since you were six, Virgil. I love you.”

Virgil swallowed, pulling his knees up to his chest. “You have pretty bad taste, Pat.”

“No, Virge,” he said. They’d had this argument more times than Virgil could count. “I don’t. I- I’m sorry. I know what they did and I’m… I’m so sorry I didn’t get you out of there sooner.”

"It's not your fault." And it wasn't, Patton had done everything just right. Virgil wouldn't have made it this far without him. "You did everything you could. I never… knew why you were so nice to me.”

Patton had been the first one to be kind, to not try to hurt or use him the second he met Virgil, and up until tonight, he’d been the only one.

Roman’s hadn’t tried either. He hadn’t seemed to consider it, not even once. And maybe it was stupid to trust him so easily, to jump on a ship with a man he’d only just met, he’d never get an opportunity like this ever again. It was worth the risk.

Patton sighed, shaky and small, and Virgil suspected he’d catch a glimpse of stray tears if he lifted his head. “I could have done so much more for you.”

“You did everything you could,” Virgil said again. “You made sure I wasn’t alone and that’s… that was what I needed.”

He heard Patton stand and make his way over to the bed, lowering himself beside Virgil. Shakily, he reached out, taking Virgil’s hands in his own. "I'm not gonna let anyone hurt you like that again, okay? I couldn't stop it then, but I can now."

He squeezed his eyes shut, hating himself for being the reason Patton sounded so miserable. Patton never should have seen the things that happened to Virgil, he’d be so much happier if he’d left it all behind years ago.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he admitted, barely a whisper. “But you can still change your mind. I won’t be mad.”

Patton lifted a hand, cupping Virgil's cheek, his thumb brushing gentle strokes as he watched him. “I won’t. I’m not going anywhere without you, kiddo.”

“What if someone finds out?”

“They won’t,” Patton said. “You’d know if Roman was suspicious, and I spent some time talking to Logan while you two chatted. We’re just two common travelers, and we’re gonna make it to Deigh and figure it out from there. Anything you want to do, we can do it.”

Virgil laughed, wiping his eyes and dropping his head on Patton’s shoulder. “We’ll be okay,” he agreed, closing his eyes again when Patton cradled the back of his head. “We made it out.”

“This is a whole new start,” Patton said. He pressed a kiss to the crown of Virgil’s head, holding him like he had since Virgil was a kid. “I can’t wait to adventure with you.”

The next few days at sea weren’t as peaceful as Virgil had imagined they’d be, but the excitement was something new to him and he found himself watching everything intently, awestruck.

Casting off that first morning had been hectic, Virgil woken up by booming yells and thundering footsteps above him, he and Patton clambering out of the bed they were sharing to hurry up to the deck to watch.

The crew had been scuttling around to their respective places, all smiles and jovial chatter, Virgil stepping back to watch them work.

The crew was loud and a little intense, but each one had smiled or nodded pleasantly when they passed, Virgil returning the gesture with a quiet wave. It took a bit of getting used to, and he knew Patton could tell he was caught off guard. Virgil had never been surrounded by this much kindness in his life, everyone pleasant and free.

Roman was busy directing the ship and his crew, too busy to really spend much time with his passengers those first couple days, so Virgil was careful to give him some space.

He was always polite when they did see each other, just as charming as he’d been when they’d first met, no sign of him dropping the facade for something more sinister now that Virgil was practically trapped on his ship.

It felt… genuine.

The Captain would stop what he was doing when he saw Virgil or Patton, hurrying over to say hello and check in, asking how they were faring on the voyage.

He’d get called over by a crewman eventually, bidding Virgil farewell as he rushed back to work, and Virgil would sit by the rail with Patton and watch the waves crash against the side of the ship.

Even in a new environment, Patton knew when Virgil was overwhelmed or anxious, always ushering him over to hold him at the perfect moment. Virgil still sought him out on his own when he needed the reminder of safety, but Patton always seemed to have some sixth sense that let him know when Virgil needed to be held.

He was grateful beyond words that Patton had stayed with him.

It was still taking Virgil some time to get his “sea legs” as Roman had put it, stumbling with each step when the wind would pick up, the ship rocking against the unpredictable waves.

That first morning, Logan had put down his work and made his way over to teach Patton and Virgil how to work on keeping their balance, as well as some methods to keep them from getting seasick.

Logan was… nice. Virgil was a little wary of him, and he knew Patton would keep a close eye on the first mate for a bit, but he didn’t seem to have any ill intent, intimidating as he was.

A few days into their voyage Virgil had gone exploring by himself, Patton busy with introducing himself to as much of the crew as he could.

Roman was up on the bridge, smiling as he gave orders to his crew, the wind tangled in his hair, eyes lighting up when he caught sight of Virgil.

The ship had chosen that moment to tip, almost sending Virgil stumbling right into the Captain’s chest, and Roman had leaned forward and swiftly caught him around the waist.

He’d had to spin a little to keep them from falling, leaving Virgil feeling wonderfully lightheaded, and when they’d steadied themselves Roman had given him an infuriatingly pleased smile. He’d held him around the waist just long enough to wink before he let go and returned to watching the sea.

Virgil had run right back to Patton after that, face burning bright red, refusing to talk about what had gotten him so flustered.

It had only been a few days, but Virgil had never felt so content. Unfortunately, this much excitement and change was making it nearly impossible to get any sleep.

Patton was sound asleep on the other side of the bed, but Virgil was stuck staring blankly at the ceiling, plagued with thoughts of his new freedom, his future, and Roman's stupidly innocent flirting (that absolutely did not make him blush) his head running wild after the last few days of a brand new life.

There was no point in laying here all night, listening to the endless creaking of the ship. Besides, he kind of wanted to see the ocean at night.

He was careful not to wake Patton when he eventually crawled out of bed, creeping across the cabin and slipping out the door to make his way out onto the deck.

He was still a bit unsteady on his feet, holding his arms out a little to steady himself, but the night was beautiful, stars scattered across the midnight sky, the air crisp and the breeze pleasantly cold.

He almost wasn’t surprised when he found Roman leaned against the railing, facing out towards the sea with the wind in his face. Virgil froze when Roman turned around, but immediately relaxed when the Captain smiled, laughing softly at Virgil’s unsteady movements.

“Why’re you up?” he called, motioning for Virgil to make his way to the railing. “It’s pretty late, isn’t it?”

Virgil really hoped his blush wasn't visible under the moonlight, and he wondered if Roman would be proud of himself if he knew he was the only person to make Virgil genuinely flustered. Not that he’d mention it.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Virgil said, finally making it to Roman’s side. “You’ve got a whole ship to run.”

With the moonlight dancing between the two of them, Virgil could swear he could count the specks in Roman’s eyes. He felt his cheeks flush and he quickly turned towards the sea, closing his eyes to the wind, the light spray of the salty water stinging pleasantly.

“The ship isn’t run solely on me,” Roman said. “I don’t get much sleep, anyways. I’ll be alright. What about you, don’t you need your beauty sleep?”

Virgil's blush definitely darkened at that and he smiled at the cheesy line against his will. He could feel Roman staring, and he ducked his head to let his bangs fall into his eyes. "I think it's pretty clear I don't get much of that as it is."

Roman turned and Virgil glanced over to him, the Captain giving him a soft, almost private smile.

“As if you were on fire from within,” Roman recited, putting his chin in his hand with his elbow up on the rail. “The moon lives in the lining of your skin.”

Virgil turned to him, laughing softly when he briefly caught Roman's gaze. For once, someone staring didn't make him feel tense or exposed. "I didn't know you liked poetry, Captain. Pablo Neruda?"

Roman froze, his face going beat red, and Virgil grinned as the Captain realized he’d been found with his hand in the poet’s journal.

“You caught me,” Roman laughed, his smile guilty as he straightened up and wiped his face with his palm. “Where did you come across Neruda?”

“Relax, it sounds better coming from you, anyway.” In the face of Roman's embarrassment, Virgil found himself much less nervous to respond with a teasing smile. “My, uh…my uncle always wanted me to be well read. Ever since I was a kid.”

“And he thought Neruda was a good place to start?” Roman teased, leaning forward. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d assume you were a royal, Virgil.”

Virgil knew he was teasing, that it was just another lighthearted joke. He hadn’t meant to react with anything other than a scoff, but suddenly his throat was dry, face paling as he tore his gaze from Roman to watch the sea again.

“Oh please,” he forced out, hoping his brief panicked stumble went unnoticed. “Can you imagine that? Me? Living up in a fancy castle?”

He felt Roman staring, the silence stretching on a moment too long, and Virgil clutched at the railing with suddenly unsteady hands.

“That would be crazy, of course,” Roman said slowly. “You wouldn’t be running away on a pirate ship if you were a royal.”

Virgil laughed again and- shit, his hands were shaking now. Maybe he could blame it on being a walking anxiety attack all the time. “Of course not. I’m just teasing you, Captain. Why don’t you recite more of your poetry?” He said, his nervous laugh catching in his throat.

Roman stood up straight now, and his smile was gone when Virgil glanced over. “Surely you’re not a royal. That would be crazy. You’re not a royal, are you Virgil?”

Virgil clenched his jaw, clutching the railing and keeping his eyes on the ocean. “I’m… I’m not a royal.”

He couldn’t look up when Roman took a careful step forward, setting a hand down on Virgil’s shoulder. His breath caught in his throat, and he just hoped Roman couldn’t tell he was shaking.

“I need you to look at me and tell me that you’re not a royal, Virgil. This isn’t a joke. I can’t kidnap a member of the royal family on a whim.”

Even now, shaking on the deck of an unfamiliar ship and desperately trying to force himself to just get it together and lie before everything fell apart… he couldn’t help but feel grounded with Roman’s hand on his shoulder. “I…you’re not kidnapping me.”

“I am, Virgil,” Roman said, his frown deepening. “Unless you were specifically given permission, this is kidnapping. Did you-” he paused, lifting his hand from Virgil’s shoulders to run it through his hair, turning to step away. “Did you get permission? Or did you just leave everything on a whim?”

Virgil still couldn’t meet Roman’s eyes, feeling a bit like he was going to be sick. His heart was racing in his ears, beating so fast and so loud he wondered if Roman could hear it too. “I didn’t… actually think I would get out of the city so quickly.”

Roman froze, barely a heartbeat of silence passing before the Captain’s voice took over the deck, no longer excited and jovial.

“So you climbed on the first ship you found?” Roman whirled back around, arms thrown out to the side. “You can’t just abandon your duties like that! You have responsibilities, don’t you? Shit! I’m so fucked if I get boarded by a Navy boat!”

Virgil shrank back when Roman raised his voice, watching as the Captain began to pace the deck, first away from Virgil and then back. He mourned the loss of Roman’s touch more than he probably had the right to.

“I’m sorry,” he tried, letting go of the railing in favor or wrapping his arms around himself. “I just...I- you were nice and you offered me a ride and I—”

“You can’t trust everyone who’s nice to you, Virgil!” Roman turned back, his face a furious mask of frustration. “You ran away! Next you’ll be telling me you were the fucking Crown Prince!”

Virgil flinched back a little too fast, his breathing picking up. He felt small and cornered, the feeling unfortunately painfully familiar.

“I- uhm…” he trailed off, warily looking up to meet Roman’s eyes, not quite sure how to answer with words. “I’m sorry.”

“No.” Roman dropped his arms to his sides, staring at Virgil with eyes wide in disbelief. “No. You’re not the heir. You did not run away from the crown of your kingdom on a whim. Surely.”

Abruptly, Virgil wondered if Roman was going to hurt him. He was angry, and rightfully so, much larger, and they were all alone- up on the deck in the middle of the night.

He wondered if he could make a break for it and get to Patton before the Captain grabbed him. Probably not.

“I’d been…thinking about it for a while,” Virgil said quietly. “So it wasn’t technically on a whim.”

Roman stared at him for a moment, the air between them tense, the only sound coming from the crashing of the waves below. "We're turning around. I'm taking you back. Go tell Patton, we'll be back by the end of the week."

“What?” Virgil felt everything screech to a halt, panic and dread hitting full force as Roman’s words settled and the Captain turned on his heel. He was moving to intercept his path before he could stop himself. “No! No, you can’t do that!”

Roman stopped, just for a moment to look down at him. “Yes, I can. You should get to bed now, it’s late.” He stepped around him, a hand on Virgil’s arm to get around. “Sleep well, Virgil.”

“No!” Virgil wasn't thinking anymore, acting on pure panicked instinct as he reached out to grab Roman's arm, desperate to keep him on the deck. “Please, please you can’t. You can’t take me back, I- I can’t go back. Roman, please.”

“Let go of me, Virgil.”

Virgil didn’t move, despite being acutely aware of how much bigger Roman was, and how close they were. It wasn’t pleasant anymore. “Please Roman, please. I’ll—” he hesitated for a moment, considering his desperate words. “—Roman, I’ll do anything. I’ll do anything.”

“I don’t want anything from you, Virgil,” Roman said before the words were even out of Virgil’s mouth, the Captain tensing in his hold. “You have to go back. Now let go.”

“I can’t.” Virgil couldn’t move, still clutching Roman’s arm, and he distantly realized he couldn’t catch his breath either. “I’m- I’m not going back. I’m not going back, Roman I’m… please don’t make me. I can’t- I can’t do it again.”

Roman finally turned, firmly taking Virgil by the shoulders and bending down slightly to be eye level with the smaller man. “You have a duty, Virgil. And so do I. This is bigger than you and it’s bigger than me. I know you’re scared, and it’s ok to be, but you have to go back. I know it’s hard. Believe me, I do. I understand more than you know.”

“No you don’t.” Virgil was crying now, hot tears streaming down his cheeks, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. He twisted out of Roman’s grasp, frantically backing away. “You-you don’t, I… they’ll just hurt me again if I go back and it’ll be worse and I can’t- I’m…I can’t do it again, Roman!”

Roman let him go, quickly pulling his hands away like he’d been burnt when Virgil started to back up. There was a moment of silence, the furious waves once again the only sound on the deck, overshadowed only by Virgil’s quick, panicked breathing.

“Again?” Roman repeated, voice quiet. “What- who hurt you, Virgil?”

“Everyone!” Virgil couldn't breathe, he couldn’t… he couldn’t go back. Not after finally coming so close to getting away. “They all- they all keep…they won’t stop and I hate it! You…you didn’t hurt me. You didn’t even try so I trusted you and- and now you’re taking me back.”

“You’re shaking, Virgil,” Roman said softly. He reached for him, freezing when Virgil scrambled back again. “I won’t hurt you. I… I’ll figure it out when we get there, you're not without help.”

Virgil could barely hear Roman at this point, too busy frantically trying to remember how to breathe, shaking uncontrollably as the Captain spoke.

All he knew was that Roman was still insisting on taking him back.

Because nobody cared if Virgil was hurt or used or trapped. He was the Prince. He was just property made to look pretty, wasn’t he? A pretty pawn to be placed on the throne.

He found himself glancing at the railing, the only thing separating him from the endless sea. “I’m not going back.”

“You have to go back, Virgil.” The Captain took a few steps towards Virgil, slow and steady, his hands out in front of him. “It’s the only option. You’re not safe out at sea or with me.”

Virgil took a step back as Roman approached, eyes darting between the Captain and the railing of the ship, tears now running freely as the hopelessness set in. Because no matter what he did, as long as he was alive he’d end up right back where he started. “I- I don’t care. I can’t do it again, Roman!”

And then, before any rational part of his brain beyond the panic could talk him out of it, Virgil darted forward towards the railing, eyes on the dark water below. He made it to the edge, lifted himself up and—

And then there were arms around him, grabbing Virgil by the waist just as his hands closed around the railing, hoisting him up and back away from the edge.

“No!” All he could register were hands wrapped tight around him, grabbing him, dragging him onto the ship that was taking him right back to the place he’d been trying to escape since he was a child.

He twisted and kicked and thrashed in Roman’s grasp, chest screaming in pain as he fought to catch his breath, but the Captain’s hold never loosened. Virgil’s stomach dropped when they both went crashing to the ground, the sick feeling in his stomach rising up into his throat until he felt like he was choking. Roman’s hold only tightened when they fell, Virgil’s back against his chest.

“Please,” he begged, the words falling from his lips without his permission, terrified and desperate. “Please, Roman not you too. Not…please don’t, please don’t do this—”

“Do what?” Roman asked, incredulous. “I’m trying to keep you from jumping off the ship! I’m not going to hurt you!”

“You’re making me go back.” Virgil couldn’t breathe. It felt like his lungs were being crushed every time he struggled to take a single breath. “You…you can do whatever you want to me just please. Please don’t make me go back. Please, just help me.”

Roman didn’t respond for a long moment, or maybe Virgil just couldn’t hear anything over his own panicked breathing, but after a moment the Captain’s hold loosened slowly until his arms were just loosely draped around him. Virgil didn’t have the energy to make a run for it, and he was terrified of the consequences of getting caught again.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Virgil. I don’t want anything from you, I—” he paused for a moment, his breathing heavy, and Virgil squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m not taking you back.”

Virgil still couldn’t catch his breath, lightheaded from the pain in his chest, so it took a moment for Roman’s words to register. He froze, stopping any futile struggling, eyes flying open again.

Slowly, still hesitant and cautious, he reached up with a trembling hand to clutch weakly at Roman’s wrist. “You…you’re not…really?”

He’d begged before, countless times to countless people over the years, but nobody had ever bothered to listen.

“No, I’m not.” Roman tightened his hold just a little, but it felt more like comfort than restriction. “If you’re that desperate not to go back, I’ll trust that it was that bad. I’m not taking you back.”

The flood of relief was dizzying, somehow more exhausting than the panic, and Virgil took in a desperate, shaky breath which quickly dissolved into a sob.

He twisted around, the Captain’s hold loose enough to let him turn until he could wrap his arms around Roman, holding on as tight as he could manage and dropping his forehead to the other man’s chest.

“Thank you.” Distantly, he figured he should be ashamed of how badly he was still shaking, but he couldn’t seem to stop. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Don't thank me,” Roman said, hugging Virgil to his chest. “It’s just human decency. I’m sorry I scared you.”

“It’s not,” Virgil said, voice muffled by Roman’s shirt. “No one…no one else would. So thank you. Thank you so much.”

He still couldn’t stop trembling, cold and terrified, and he no longer had the strength to keep his eyes open on his own. Roman maneuvered slowly to rest a hand on Virgil's head, carefully running fingers through his hair just like Patton always did to calm him down.

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “You’re safe here. I promise.”

Virgil melted into the embrace, letting out another shuddering breath as his own hold on Roman began to loosen against his will. He felt himself being dragged down to sleep, exhaustion weighing over him like a blanket. He didn't mean to say anything else, but he wasn't exactly thinking clearly right now. "I… I don't want to be hurt anymore."

“I won’t let them hurt you ever again,” Roman said. Virgil felt him reposition his hold to have one hand under his knees, the other against the Prince’s back. “You’re safe.”

Moving slowly, Roman stood up and took Virgil with him, holding the smaller man against his chest. The Captain’s arms around him were the last thing he registered before everything faded, and he let himself drift off to sleep.

Taglist: @i-really-like-dragons @stitches-system @poettheythem @remy-the-lemon-berry @shrubs-and-bushes @i-sexually-identify-as-a-mistake @wordsmithandworm @the-dead-and-the-decaying @hope340 @winterwynd @thomas-sanders-tothe-standers @angstysunshine @sunshineandteddybears @pixelated-pineapple

#pirate au #sanders sides #virgil sanders #ts virgil #roman sanders #ts roman #patton sanders #logan sanders #ts logan #prinxiety #logicality #writing #fanfiction #thomas sanders

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doubledgesword-2 · 4 years ago

Note

Can I get Vil Schoenheit x Rival Celebrity? They shoot insults at each other but end up flirting? Take it as far as you want! Any gender reader is fine lol

Oh, ma Gooosh!! This is the first Matcha Tea I've gotten, and I'm all for this. I had so much fun with this one, and I want to show you lil' sugar cubes the difference between characters I know and the ones that I don't. I do my research before writing a character that I'm unfamiliar with, but I will be sincere: I butchered the last request (Shalnark's). I will try to rewrite it, but other characters apart from the stated ones are a bit hard for me ( ˘︹˘ ).

I will always try my best for ya'll! Enjoy this steaming Matcha (❛‿❛✿)

“What a shameless potato,” nimble fingers scrolled down on their phone, looking at the menagerie of pictures from one single account: yours.

You and Vil were from the same industry, just not the same department per se. While he was a model and actor, you were a j pop star and actress. Your popularity and his were on the same level, but he was slightly higher if you asked him or his fans. Ever since the two of you met on set for a fantasy-like movie, you repelled each other’s presence like oil and water.

Amethyst eyes glared at your smiling picture, and a thousand critiques passed through his mind. Your make-up did not complement your features; what was your make-up artist thinking? That nail polish didn’t match with your skin, and your haircut didn’t go with your face and countless other thoughts. But that wasn’t his place to tell, and besides, you living in his head rent-free wasn’t good for his skin. Stress kills, and thinking about you was very stressful.

The subway doors opened, and Vil gripped his side bag, adjusting his beret and sunglasses and walking out with the amount of confidence and power it took to walk down the runway. The sea of people diligently coming and going parted for him without a cue. They just did like mindless fish around a predator. It was in their nature to give in, in the presence of something so regal.

Vil had a photoshoot to go, and he couldn’t miss a beat. His agenda was full and complicated; anyone who tried to follow it would surely lose their minds after the first three days of the same arduous pace. But he could handle it with the grace of a swan. He was the great Vil Shoenheit. He wondered if you could handle a week in his shoes. You probably would drop exhausted and disheveled, complaining about the hard work. The thought made him smirk smugly, and passerby fans who recognized him couldn’t even keep up to ask for an autograph.

He just couldn’t fathom how you had such a fan base with your attitude and manners. Sure, in front of the cameras, you were a sweetheart, stealing everyone’s hearts, singing like an empowered angel, and making them think you were as far from the villain he knew you truly were. Vil knew your kind and recognized it the moment he met you on set. Heck, you couldn’t even contain your disdain in interviews when the two of you had to sit side by side. It was uncomfortable, to say the least; the poor reporter was so painfully awkward trying to alleviate the tenseness in the room.

“So (Y/N), how do you feel being an actress in a big-budget movie while also singing and performing the next week? Is it exhausting?”

You sided glared at Vil, and gave the reporter a smug grin. “Well, I think I can handle a little bit of work. It’s not in me to sit around and look pretty, you know. But then again, I guess that’s what some people are into, so we can’t judge them. They might not understand hard work.”

Vil smiled with closed eyes. You were such an amateur. If it weren’t for the fact that you were actively throwing shade on him and being so annoying at it, too, he might think you were cute.

Of course, Vil wouldn’t back down; that’s not what he was taught. The crown was his, and he would take it with hard work and determination. Which means potatoes like you don’t really matter in the long run of things.

“Vil-senpai, how do you manage your modeling gig and your acting? I mean, it must be hard to run from one event to the next since they’re so close behind each other?”

“Well, dear, we models are more than just a pretty face. We represent big companies and events that many couldn’t even fathom getting into. My schedule might be a bit tight, but I was born into this lifestyle, and I have learned many skills to help me move and work in these types of environments. I can say one thing for sure not a lot of people can handle my agenda, one day in my heels, and they might slip if you know what I mean, darling.”

You scoffed under your breath, and it made Vil’s smile grow wider.

“Ahh, Vil-senpai is a hard worker for sure. Perhaps one day I could do an interview that can provide insight to one day of your agenda.”

“Anytime you want, darling, it would be lovely,” he knew with every word that came out of his mouth; you simmered even more.

“Are there any hobbies or activities that can fit into your schedules?

Vil was about to open his mouth when you beat him to it.

“Well, I don’t think he’s allowed to have any, you know, with his busy schedule. But I do love partaking in (hobby). I think it is a nice way to unwind and take my mind off of everything. Since stress it’s not good for your vocals, you know. I try to keep myself in top shape for my lovely fans.”

Vil was raging. How dare you interrupt him when he was clearly about to talk. Didn’t your parent taught you any manners, or are you so much of a spoiled brat to care for?

“Ahh, interesting. Does Vil Sendai have any hobbies in particular?

“As a matter of fact, I do” you were looking at him with an expectant smirk. You were genuinely curious to hear what he had to say. “I like to make beauty and make-up tutorials that are beneficial for a lot of my fans. I like to show them how to use brushes correctly what and what not to do with concealer. Those are bonding moments for me and my fans. I think they are important.”

At the end of that interview, a single question brought the anger and tense meter to burst. Now the tensions and dislikes weren’t palpable. They were visible.

“Oh, I’ve had some partners, but I like to focus more on my work, unlike some other artists who like to jump around; my projects come first, and I don’t want to ruin my partner’s and I relationship by not spending enough time with them.”

“Wow, he really doesn’t like to have fun.”

“I do just not with the likes of you.”

“Come on, pretty boy, you couldn’t handle me even if you were begging pretty on your knees.”

“Dream on, potato, you might be prettier than most potatoes, but you’re still that a potato with some potential. I bet if push came to shove, you wouldn’t last seconds with me.

“I bet you wouldn’t make it into the second round without having to retouch your make-up with me. Besides, it’s not like you’ll last long enough to even sweat that much.”

“Well, that’s a relief to know I wouldn’t have to put much effort into pleasing someone like you.”

The reporter was utterly flushed, and that was cut from the interview recording. Good thing that it was, or people might’ve gotten the wrong impression. That you liked each other or something.

Or something.

After that interview, rumors spread like they always do, and fans started gossiping about the two of you secretly together but having to hate each other in public to save face since it’s a big rumor that singers and models don’t actually go well together in the industry.

Such wild imagination and machinations fans have. It brought out a small chuckle.

Vil passed through the automatic doors telling the receptionist his name and guiding him to the set. Once there, he settled his stuff over the make-up table and sat back to look once more through his phone.

“Have you seen this?” A text notification annoying appeared on the screen.

Vil tch and opened the message to reveal a very well photoshopped photo of him and you sitting and drinking at some café. You were smiling like he just told you you were beautiful, and it was a good look on you.

This was outrageous. Who would go to such lengths? Suddenly a bag dropped right on the table next to him. He looked up to meet your eyes as you took off your sunglasses, slowly realizing who was sitting beside you.

“Oh no,” you faintly muttered underneath your breath but not faintly enough that Vil couldn’t hear you.

He scoffed and went back to look at the stupid picture, texting his manager as mad as he was.

“Oh, you saw it too,” you commented, sitting down and looking at your own phone.

Vil didn’t answer. He really didn’t care about your opinion on this; his credibility was on the line. He was supposed to hate you, and that’s how things should go.

“Well, at least they got a good angle of my face, not to mention I’m actually smiling for once.”

“Actually, smil- what are you talking about potato? All you do is smile in all of your pictures. That’s why you have to hide your wrinkles with make-up,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing.

“Well, as presumptuous as that was, proud little peacock, I actually never smile genuinely for the cameras. My genuine smile is reserved for good moments. I guess not anymore.”

At that, Vil felt like the two of you clicked. He knew the feeling, the invasive nature of fame, and the lack of privacy was very real in the industry. It’s the first thing you have to get through. But listening to you say made him realize you’re just like him.

“Well, if you behave during the shoot, I might feel inclined to reward you for good behavior” he grinned at you.

“Mmm, you make it sound as if you don’t like the way I make you crumble in front of everyone. It’s like you’re denying yourself the pleasure, and here I thought you liked the masochism.”

“Hahahaha, I’ll step on you once we’re done here. Maybe that and a little bit of discipline will put you in your place. However, your lack of manners and running mouth might be a problem; perhaps all you need is a nice pacifier. I can help with that.”

You both were so close to each other muttering salacious threats that you didn’t realize how flustered everyone else was in the room.

It was going to be another one of those shoots.

#twisted wonderland #vil x reader #vil x mc #vil shoenheit #twisted wonderland fandorm #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland fic #fanfiction #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland vil #disney twst #twst vil

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sweetestlamb · 4 years ago

Text

Bring Me To Life

Summary: Kang Sujin has never had anyone to turn to, hiding behind a façade her entire life. Someone begins to peek behind the mask.

Author’s note: My two favorite characters in TB are Seojun and Sujin, both characters who are honestly treated like trash by the writers. I cannot begin to tell how upsetting it was to see Sujin’s character assassination or how painful it is to watch her being physically abused knowing that the writers will not give her therapy or a true happy ending. She’s just here to be beaten and vilified. Seojun, I won’t even rant everyone knows what the problem is (idk who told them we wanted to see Start-Up the high school edition.) So I wrote this after watching the most recent episode and hating most of it for these reasons. I don’t know how far it’ll go or how often I can update, but I need my two babies to have a happy ending preferably together because the visuals are just a dreammmm.

The rain crashes down loudly from aggrieved storm clouds bellowing above her in the sky, the chilled condensation plastering her thin satin pajamas to her trembling body. She had to get out, the pain in her cheek numbing and electrifying all at once.

How dare she tell him that she didn't want to get married, want to stand on her own two feet without a man giving her value?

His hand had flown across the room before she could sidestep the blow, the fragile glass filled with water in her hand- the very reason she'd left her room in the dead of night- shattering into jagged pieces as it collided with a greater force. Just like her.

She hadn't been trying to eavesdrop but it was hard not to hear him chuckling deeply on the phone, offering up his only child like she was an item on a menu.

"Yes we should set them up. It seems Suho isn't interested and she should marry young, that's when women are worth the most."

Nausea rolled like waves in the pits of her stomach and before she could think logically, her feet were sprinting into the living room, air barely filling her lungs as she stared at the man she'd never once thought of as a father. The last time she'd made the grave mistake of calling him daddy he'd smacked her so hard that was how she lost her first tooth. He'd been father ever since or Mr. Kang. She tried her best to avoid him at all cost, she would never be good enough and it was getting harder to hide the marks he left behind.

It was difficult to remember clearly what occurred seconds after her refusal to marry a man she didn't know left her lips, his fist connected and she was knocked back onto their coffee table the sharp edge cutting at her cheek. As she looked at him, anger painting his face a demonic red, fear crippled her and her hands twitched desperately wanting to wash them raw. Then he grabbed a thick marble ashtray from the table and her instincts took over and she was out the door, running as fast as she could, knowing her life was at stake and she couldn't afford to stop.

When the cloud in her head cleared that was when she found herself at the bus stop.

Judgmental whispers breeze by her ears as people passed by with umbrellas, shocked to see the young girl crying in her pajamas at the stop, but none stopped to offer her help or inquire about her situation, happy just to pass judgement. She ignores them all, panicking racing through her blood until she's unable to breathe, choking on nothing as she twitches in the harsh air. Her throat constricts as she screams at herself, breathe.

Breathe.

BREATHE!

But it's useless as her body shuts down, forgetting how to do the basic function, she sways as she starts to feel light headed from the lack of oxygen and with a final wheeze she collapses.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

He signs as he weaves past cars moving far too slowly, adrenaline rushing through his veins as he marginally misses nipping a car to the left of him, easily dragging his motorcycle away with the fluid movements of his body. He glares up at the sky before cursing, "Fucking weather report didn't say anything about a sudden rainstorm." If he'd known he would have stayed home, always hating the rain. It brought back bad memories.

Halting at a red light, he puts his leg down for balance bouncing slightly in place. Pulling the shield up on his helmet he glances around, recognizing the area easily, before something in his peripheral catches his attention, a lump on the ground. Tilting his head he revs his trusty iron steed to live, riding over to the direction of the mysterious mass on the wet ground. As he gets closer his heart falters, it's too evident now.

It's a person.

Jumping off his bike and pushing out the kickstand he flings his helmet off, his hair immediately drenched under the downpour as he races over to help. As he nears the figure, it becomes clearer it's a woman wearing what looks like sleep clothes. Momentarily he wonders if this is a crazy person and if he should just mind his business but a frightening image of his little sister unconscious on the ground and no one coming to her aid flashes in his mind.

"I'll just check if she's breathing and call an ambulance. That's all, if she tries to attack me I'll just ride away." He takes a deep breath, collecting his courage before closing the gap between him and the unconscious woman.

Crouching beside her, he reaches out a hand hesitating before sighing and shaking at her cold shoulder. No response. He shakes harder now, watching the motion quake through her entire body, but still she is unresponsive.

"Hey! Hey! Are you okay? Wake up, you're scaring me!" He starts to jiggle her with both hands, before he crawls into her space not caring about his safety any longer, the idea that this unknown woman might be dead is making him nauseous. People are always dying without his permission. It's so frustrating.

"Wake up! Come on!" He shouts at the figure now holding both her shoulders and turning the woman over, lifting her face from its place on the ground, cradling her limp body in his lap. After two more vicious shakes, she starts to cough and groan in his arms. Relief swims through his veins as he watches her come back to life, anxiously watching as her dewy long lashes flutter open and he's caught in a lifeless deep gaze.

"Han Seo-Jun?"

It takes a long pause for him to register that the woman has said his name and then a longer moment to recognize who she is.

"Kang Su-Jin?" He replies in genuine shock, taking in the wom--young girl in his arms. She's shivering so violently that it's becoming difficult to hold onto her, vibrating out of his hold before he grips her tighter, whipping off his jacket without second thought and wrapping it around her. Goosebumps raising on his skin as his body mentally berates his lack of survival skills.

"What are you doing here?" She looks at him bewildered as if the stranger occurrence is his presence and not her own.

He squints his eyes looking back at her, "I could ask you the same thing. I found you unconscious here. I thought you were...." He trails off unable to utter the rest of his sentence.

"You should have left me here. Maybe I would have. If I was that lucky."

"What? Are you crazy, you want to die? Did you do this to yourself, what are you on?!" He roars at her, rage flooding his system as he shouts at the stupid girl, how dare she try to kill herself and leave her body for him to find? He wishes he had taken a different route, that he'd never come across her. He was in no state to comfort someone who was suicidal, still too raw and hurt. What was so hard about living that made people want to do that? Hot tears gather in his eyes as he abruptly pulls away from Sujin, unapologetic as she tumbles to the ground without his support.

She starts at him, stunned before righteous fury twists her features and she roars back at him.

"Who are you to judge me! I didn't ask you to help me, leave me alone!"

He glares back at her ready to yank his jacket away and run away from her but a small movement stops him, as she's screaming at him a small muscle twitches in her cheek bringing his attention to said cheek. It's nearly purple, standing out obscenely on her pale skin and then he notices the split lip and the bruises on her neck and he's so ashamed of himself he could bawl.

He deflates before speaking to her, "What happened to your face? Who did this to you?"

He doesn't know what kind of look he has on his face but before his questions can even settle between them she's sneering and twisting away from him, throwing his jacket on the ground before making her escape. Unprepared for her sudden departure he reacts too late, before chasing after her. It's easy to close the distance separating them with his long legs and within seconds she's merely inches in front of him, he reaches out a large hand to grab her wrist but hesitates recalling the bruises littering her frame. Instead he races past her, blocking her with his body swerving to the left and then the right when she tries to dodge him. They play this cat and mouse game before she finally gives up, glaring up at him with moist enraged eyes.

"Why do you care? We aren't even friends!"

Her piercing shout rings in his ears as he looks down at her passively. He can't answer that question, doesn't know what brought him to this area so late and not understanding why he was the one to find her in this condition. He doesn't know why he cares. But maybe things could have been different if Se-Yeon had someone to chase him. Maybe he'd still be alive...

So he answers her honestly.

"I don't want anymore people to die."

To his complete shock she starts to cry, tears falling rapidly from her eyes before she crumples to the ground, the rain pounding on her head and he stands still unsure of what to do before he drapes the jacket he'd rescued from the ground over her head, shielding her from most of the thunderous downpour. When she looks up to see the jacket protecting her, he almost falls backwards as her head slams into his chest, her tears simmering hot on his chilled body. It's almost painfully uncomfortable but he doesn't move away. Letting her cry on his chest, his shirt is soaked anyway this makes no difference.

He doesn't know how long they are crouched there on the ground, so dark that the sidewalk is completely devoid of anyone else, it feels like they are the only two people left on Earth.

"If we stay here you're going to get a cold."

He voices his concern but the only reply he receives is a gross sounding sniffle and he grimaces, knowing that his poor shirt is probably damaged beyond repair covered in snot and tears.

Sighing he starts to repeat himself before she whispers, "I don't have anywhere to go."

"I can take you home." Her fists tighten in his drenched shirt, he can practically feel the fear wafting off her, he'd assumed the marks on her face were from a possessive unhinged boyfriend but her reaction makes him uneasy. He tries to push those unpleasant thoughts to the corner.

"What about your friends? Why don't you call Su-ah or Ju-Kyung, I’m sure they’ll help you.”

She stiffens in his arms before shaking her head in decline.

"No. I can't let anyone else see me like this. I don't need them looking at me the way you did, like I'm a sad pitiful puppy. I never want anyone look at me like that again."

He can respect that, he never wants to appear weak in front of others. It was easier to become angry and lash out rather than showing your true heart, nobody could hurt you that way.

"Then what? Where do you want to go?"

"I have nowhere to go. I'll stay here until morning. I'll be fine, you can go."

He looks at her dumbfounded, what kind of man would leave a battered woman alone in the rain? He wasn't raised by animals, damn it.

"Let's go." He makes a point not to touch her, their only point of connection are her hands twisted in his shirt.

"What?"

He bulldozes past her confusion, looking at her with what he hopes are comforting eyes.

"I'm taking you to my house. I can't just leave you here."

"Are you crazy? Don't you live with your mother and sister, what will they say?"

He winces at the logical inquiry, he had already considered that himself, thinking of his mother's subsequent smacks and his sister's teasing once they learned what he'd done but still deciding that he has no other choice. He can't just leave her here.

He shrugs, "That's my problem to worry about. I'm not leaving you here, I'd really like to get out of his rain. Let's go." He repeats himself harder, pleading with her.

She looks away and he's prepared to throw her over his shoulders and face the consequences when he hears her response, "Okay. Let's go."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It's a quiet ride back, the engine rumbling through the aching bones of her frozen body. Han Seojun. The last person she ever expected to see after being roused from her panic induced collapse. Her arms tighten around his thin waist as he swerves around a car, adrenaline and fear battling for dominance in her body. When her fingers accidentally brush across wet bare skin she quickly moves her hands higher, fighting the embarrassment that washes over her.

If he notices she can't hear his reaction over the roar of the motorcycle.

When they finally pull up to a small apartment, she loosens her hold on him cracking her frozen digits.

"You didn't need to hold that tightly, I wasn't going to let anything happen to you. I ride this everyday you know."

She doesn't reply focusing on getting off the bike, swinging her leg over and hopping off not graceful but effective, a small proud smile spreads on her face before she gazes back at him.

He stares back before shaking his head, as if lost in a daze before he stomps off for her to follow.

Wordlessly she trails behind him, feeling foolish in her duck pajamas, a gift from Su-ah.

When he pushes his front door open, letting her in first she steps out of her sopping wet house slippers standing awkwardly looking around.

"Stay here. I'll get towels so we don't trail too much water."

She nods at his command, gazing at the floor and seeing how much water is already pooling around her feet.

"Here." He hands her a fluffy pink towel, she raises an eyebrow at the color.

"It's the guest towel. I wouldn't give you my towel."

That makes sense, sharing towels is far too intimate for the relationship they have. That being none.

She rapidly towels at her hair, before running the towel down her body and wrapping it around her waist.

"You can use the bathroom. It's the second door on the right. I'll bring you dry clothes."

She steps cross the doorway, finally entering his home. Before she turns back to him staring directly into his eyes, "Than.... You didn't have to do this." She loses her confidence but his answering smirk lets her know he understood enough, with that she walks to the bathroom locking herself inside.

The sight of her bruised face in the mirror makes her pause, reaching up to finger at the stark purple mark on her cheek. She's crying before she can control her emotions, tears dripping into the sink as she remembers her night, how close she was to the end despite what she said to Seojun she wanted to live. As her father stood above her ready to snuff her out like a mere nuisance in his life, she realized with a burning passion how desperately she wanted to live.

A soft knock drags her back to reality as she rapidly wipes her tears away.

"I'm leaving clothes by the door. You can come out whenever you're ready. I'm making tea."

When she hears the light steps of his feet moving away from the door she opens the door a crack, picking up the neatly folded pile of clothes. Sending the boy a mental thank you before closing the door quietly.

It's clear that these clothes belong to Seojun, draping off her body, too large for her frame, a black T-shirt with a microphone on the center and sweatpants that cover her feet as well, he'd even remembered to bring her socks. Instantly she feels her body warming as her body temperature returns to normal.

Folding her wet clothes and splashing water on her face then using the towel to rub it dry, she exits the bathroom walking towards the light she sees assuming that's the kitchen.

"The water's almost done boiling. Sit down."

His deep voice greets her as she follows his orders and takes a seat.

"Are these your clothes?"

"What? Oh yeah they're mine, sorry my sister locked her door. They're very old though, I haven't worn them in years I thought they would fit you better." He eyes her as he says the last sentence, "I guess it didn't make much of a difference I'm just too tall and manly for my own good."

She scoffs at his narcissistic comment rolling her eyes "Tall and manly my foot. You're so skinny I could probably pick you up with one arm."

He immediately turns at her comment, affronted look on his face, "Shut up! It's hard for me to put on weight, I'm not that skinny."

He places his hands on his hips, looking down at himself before puffing his chest out to make himself appear broader, it's so ridiculous that she can't control her reaction.

Sudden uncontrollable laughter.

She laughs breathlessly, folding onto her lap trying to contain her giggles but his scandalized look makes her laugh harder and she has to stuff her face in her elbow to prevent herself from waking his family.

After a few minutes of random spasms of laughter she finally peers back up at him.

He looks just like he did outside when she'd smiled after successively getting off his motorcycle.

"What? What are you looking at?"

"Nothing. I just never see you smile at school."

"Well you never do anything worth smiling about." She quips back, wondering if she'd gone too far but he doesn't reply beyond a slight smile that's gone too fast to even be titled that, he places her steaming cup of tea before her sipping at his own after blowing on it.

They drink in comfortable silence.

She's the first to rapture the silence, "I don't need pity."

"I don't pity yo--"

"But thank you. Thank you for stopping. Thank you for this, thank you."

He stares wordlessly before nodding, a slight blush on his cheeks before he hides his face in the cup of tea. She doesn't bring attention to it.

"You can sleep in my room. It's the door next to the bathroom."

Humming she looks up, fatigue hitting her like a brick at the mention of sleeping.

"Where will you sleep?"

"I have a perfectly good couch, don't argue you're sleeping in my room. That's final. It's better that my mother doesn't see a strange woman on the couch when she wakes up."

Well, she can't argue with that logic.

"Okay." Drinking the last of the soothing beverage, she stands up walking over to place the cup in the sink.

"Good night." She starts to walk back in the direction of the bathroom, seeing another door next to it. Seojun's room. Twisting the doorknob she pushes it open, before she hears his voice from behind her.

"If you need anything I'm right outside."

Blinking her tears away, she nods without looking back, too vulnerable with his palpable concern.

When she lays her head down on his pillow, his scent fills her senses and she falls into a deep restless slumber feeling safer than she has in long time.

Tomorrow will be horrible.

But tonight, she will allow herself to breath easy knowing that someone is on her side.

#true beauty #kang sujin #han seojun #sujin deserves better #redemption fic #healing each others wounds #the visuals #true beauty kdrama #slow burn

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kiingocreative · 3 years ago

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The Structure of Story is now available! Check it out on Amazon, via the link in our bio, or at https://kiingo.co/book

If you ask around, a lot of successful writers will tell you that they look at their writing the same way they would a business. And what do successful business all have in common? They have clearly defined brands that are designed to appeal to their target audience or customers.

What does that mean, concretely?

• It means that they know what they stand for, what their values are and what they’re offering.

• It means that they know who their target customer is, in terms of demographics, likes and dislikes, and general lifestyle or habits.

• It means that their messaging and content is tailored to appeal to that type of customer…

• …So that, ultimately, when their ideal customer lands on their social media pages or website, they can relate to everything on there and be more inclined to purchase a product or service.

Being a writers is no different, in that your work will be, by design, targeted to only a segment of the population. Nurturing your brand is how you’ll ensure your book will be put in front of the right readers, and have the best possible chances of success.

Before you set out on your journey to building your online presence, therefore, think about what you want your channels to reflect—be it across social media or through your website. The online image you’ll be creating has to be consistent across all of the mediums you are leveraging.

This by no means implies your online persona should be fake—quite the opposite in fact! The more genuine your online image is, the easier it will be to maintain over time and the more believable and consistent it will appear (because it’ll be true!).

Why Your Online Image Matters.

Trying to maintain a fake image will, at best, make it unconvincing and, at worst, confusing.

And that’s the thing.

Most people reject what they don’t understand. If they check out your content and it looks all over the place or doesn’t make sense, they’ll simply move on. Confusion turns people away from your content before they’ve had a chance to hear what you have to say.

Ask yourself some questions before you start:

• Who are you? What makes you, YOU? What is unique to you?

• When people think of you, what do you want them to think about? Someone who’s fun? Quirky? Talks about things as they are? Someone who’s formal? Someone with a particular interest? etc.

• How does this translate into the look and feel and content of your social media channels, your website etc.?

Take some time to write this down and use it to create your brand guidelines. And I mean exactly that: write it down. Make it a rulebook, and refer to it regularly. It may change and evolve with time, but having a reference point you can physically consult (as opposed to shreds of an idea of what your brand is about somewhere in your mind) will keep you and your brand on track.

Everything you post about, and the format in which you share it (e.g. photos, videos, long captions, blog posts, newsletter etc.) should be in line with the image you’re building.

From there, identify who your target audience is, and make sure your message (and its delivery) is relatable and appealing to that audience. It can take some trial and error to get right, so give yourself room to learn and grow!

Your Instagram Brand: Content vs. Aesthetics.

Looking at Instagram, you’ll see two main types of focus:

• Focus on aesthetics: these are feeds with high quality, impeccable pictures, quirky reels/videos, with a consistent theme and colour palette, and a huge focus on being visually pleasing.

• Focus on content: feeds where more thought and effort is placed on the post captions.

There are different ratios in which you can combine the two. Go back to your brand guidelines and see which ratio or combination of the two feels like a better fit. Ask yourself what would be more relatable for your target audience. Find what resonates most with you and your brand and stick to it, especially at the beginning when you’re growing a platform.

If you’re unsure what’s right for you, there’s no need to reinvent the wheel. Take some time to browse Bookstagram and find accounts you like. See what they’re doing and use the techniques you can see are working for them and feel right to you. Find what works, throw away what doesn’t.

Whatever you do, keep it consistent.

Wherever you land on the ‘aesthetics focus’ to ‘content focus’ ratio, as with a lot of things the first thing that people see when they land onto your channels (be it your instagram feed, your website etc.) is… Well. What they SEE.

People’s opinion of you based on your content will likely be formed (often subconsciously) within seconds of landing on your website or feed. Within those few seconds, they’ll decide whether or not to stick around or bounce, never to come back again.

For that reason, it’s important to keep the look and feel of your content generally consistent. Remember, confusing people is the surest way to fry their brains and turn them away from your channels before they give you, or what you have to say, a chance.

Your channels should all reflect the same look and the same message, i.e. they should look like they belong to the same person, and not show people one person on Instagram, a different one on your website and yet another one on Facebook. Things need to line up for your audience to get a sense of who you are and what you’re about, so that they can evaluate whether or not they can relate to it all. Once again, and I can’t say this enough, confused brand messaging is your worst enemy.

Professional, or not at all.

Consistency is one thing, and it’s crucial, but it’ll mean nothing if your channels don’t all look professional. Professional doesn’t mean it can’t also have a casual vibe, or be a friendly brand. Professional means whatever your brand is, it should have a certain polish to it, and clearly show that it was thought through and well-executed.

If you’re not convinced, riddle me this: When you land on a website that looked hacky or unsafe, do you still stuck around and browse through it? Or when you find an instagram account with burry pictures, weird-looking captions and totally unrelated content throughout, do you still scroll through for more?

…

My guess is you wouldn’t, because when you find something that looks dodgy (or, in other words, unprofessional) you can’t get away from it fast enough. We all do, because on a primal level that sense of uneasiness, uncertainty and insecurity signals to our brain that there may be danger, and it triggers our flight response.

Here are some prompts to get you started with building professional-looking and consistent channels:

On Instagram:

• What’s your Instagram handle? It is unique and memorable? Find a handle that says what it does on the tin, and one that doesn’t include a string of random numbers and letters. e.g. @authorjohnsmith is good, but @johnny_1999 and @John_Smith99 aren’t because they say nothing about who you are and they won’t be easy to remember.

• What type of pictures are you posting? Are they all clear and high-quality?

• Will you be using filters? If so which one? Ideally pick one and stick to it to give your feed a homogeneous look.

• What format are you using for your captions?

• Are your captions properly spaced out and easy to read?

• What content are you planning to post? Will there be recurring themes? If so, which ones?

On your website:

• Does your website look professional? Or does it look like a dodgy website that people will want to run away from immediately?

• Is your domain clear, specific and easy to remember?

• What does your landing page (your website home page) say about you?

• What imagery are you using?

• Is the look and feel of your website aligned with the look and feel of your Instagram feed? i.e. do they look like they belong to the same person?

• If your website navigation clear?

• How many clicks does it take to go from your home page to finding key information about you and your books?

• Is it easy for people to get in touch with you?

REAL and GENUINE does it.

I appreciate that a lot of the information we’ve covered so far sounds like it involves a lot of over-engineering of your online persona, but that isn’t to say that to succeed you need create a fake alter-ego.

Quite the opposite, actually.

What it suggests is that you should take some time to think about what makes you YOU, what feels real and genuine to YOU and to see how you can best translate that into images and content that will help people get to know YOU and what you stand for.

The illusion of perfection won’t make you attractive. All it’ll do is make you seem one-dimensional, and most likely make it look like you lack substance. In this day and age, people like to be able to relate to others and to see what goes on behind the scenes, the good AND the bad.

That’s all that your writer brand is. And the people who can relate to it will be the ones who stick around to hear more of what you have to say and will be more likely to enjoy your books.

In fact, look at it that way: building our writer brand online is like matching-making our books to their ideal readers. It’s getting our work in front of the people who are primed to love it and embrace it. And if we’ll give our characters a chance to find their literary soul-mates, why wouldn’t we grant our books the same courtesy?

#writingtips #screenwriting #creative writing #writers on tumblr #writers #writing #writerblr #writing advice #writing community #writing resources

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spices-and-cherries · 4 years ago

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Faster Than a Kitten on Parade (Benoit Blanc x Reader)

Okay, not to toot my own horn, but this is actually kind of good? Like I’m kinda proud of myself... I spent a large amount of time trying to figure out southern accents and their corresponding regions that I kinda gave up and said Mississippi. Louisiana is another safe bet? Anyway, to all Bostonians reading this, I’m sorry. I wrote what I wrote for the sake of plot.

I did not reference race, gender, sexuality, or physical appearance. If I missed something, please let me know so I can change it!

Warnings: brief description of near car accident and reckless driving

***This is pure fluff with not even a hint of angst***

Every day you take the bus to and from work. While it’s thankfully a straight shot from where you live, Boston’s public transportation leaves much to be desired. The buses rarely run on time, the traffic is miserable, and in the winter it’s living hell. Snowy, cold, wet... It makes you wonder what made you think of moving away from your hometown to this. Was the career move really worth it? Yes.

But that doesn’t mean that your commute lacks any perks. The bus stop you wait at in the morning is right outside a coffee shop, people keep to themselves (unless there’s a game coming up), and it provides you with the time you need to reflect on the day. Most of all, however, is the new guy.

One of the things that comes with riding the same bus everyday is that you tend to ride with the same people as well. So of course your curiosity is piqued when you first saw him. Everything about him seemed so different from the usual folk you see walking around Boston: kind, gentlemanly, smart...

That being said, you have yet to actually meet him...

Normally, that would be completely fine, but you have to admit something’s going on when a fellow commuter has continued to make your day more than several days in a row. Was it his smile? The way he holds himself? That time he gave up his seat for an older lady? Is it just because he’s so clearly not from Boston?

You’ve been trying to build up enough confidence to actually say something - literally anything - but you always chicken out. The first time it was because he was reading a book and you didn’t want to disturb him. The second was because he was standing barely a foot away from your seat and you blanked because that ass. The third and fourth (and admittedly fifth) time ended in a similar fashion.

That is until one glorious and blessed day.

It was snowing hard, but as usual, the city chugged along without a care. So, you had left your apartment with several layers of sweaters and more handwarmers than you could count (That’s a lie. You were carrying ten.). The bus was unusually full and by the time his stop came around, there weren’t a lot of seats left.

Did you forget to breath when you watched him look at the seat next to you?

Were your hands getting sweaty even though that shouldn’t be possible considering the temperature?

Was your heart running faster than a kitten on parade?

Yes, yes, and yes.

“May I take this seat?” His accent somehow prevented you from speaking so you just nodded and smiled. “Thank you kindly.” You shift slightly to give him some space and to try and get rid of sudden spike in adrenaline that his unexpected (and totally welcomed) accent caused...

You watch him out of the corner of your eye, trying really hard to not look weird or creepy. He has on this grey pea coat and a deep maroon colored scarf. His blue suit pants stretch just a tad over what looked to be some muscle. And his aftershave...is amazing to say the least. But all these fine details aren’t what really catch your eye. For what ever reason, this man has no gloves on. His finger tips are turning purple! Hurriedly, you look in your work bag for one of your spare handwarmers. You find it at the bottom, still in it’s packaging.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you don’t have gloves...” You hand it to him. He looks at you with surprise.

“Oh, no...! I couldn’t possibly...” His voice sounds like honey...

“I insist. I buy so many, I won’t miss one.” You push it into his hands.

“That’s mighty kind of you.” He smiles again. It’s very soft. Like marshmallow clouds kind of soft.

“Oh, not at all!” And in that moment, you did something very daring: you introduced yourself. “Um, I’m (Y/N) (L/N), by the way.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mx. (L/N). I’m Benoit Blanc, but please, call me Blanc.” He offers to shake your hand and you take it. You can feel how cold his hands are through your gloves, but it barely even registers. You’re far too busy trying to memorize his name.

Benoit Blanc.

“Is that French?” Oh. My. God. Really?

“Yes.” He chuckled a little. One side of his mouth went up, scrunching that side of his face. It was a hella cute scrunching. “On my father’s side. Immigrated several generations back.”

“I was gonna say that you don’t really look French...”

“I take after my mother.”

“Ah. That explains it.” You smile, genuinely amused. “Sothen, where are you really from then?”

“A small town in Mississippi. You wouldn’t have heard of it.”

“Yeah, probably not.” You nod slightly. “I bet that it’s super different than here.”

“Heh, yeah it is.” Mr. Blanc holds the handwarmer up for a second as emphasis.

“I, uh, I’m from (hometown) - (region) - so I know where you’re coming from. Boston sure is something else, isn’t it?”

“Never have I ever - and I mean ever - been in a town as - as - as unique unto itself as Boston!” A few people look up. You don’t care. You had no idea that a man of his age could look so cute. “Apologies.” He lowers the volume of his voice - not that he really needed to. “Now, comin’ from the South, I’ve had my fair share of human nature, but the drivers here are a whole ‘nother species. It’s like the jungle out there.”

“Did you ever make the mistake of taking a taxi when you first came here?”

“Much to my chagrin, yes, yes I have.” He shakes his head disapprovingly, but you can see a little twinkle of amusement in his eyes. “Not too long ago, in fact. The man was speakin’ on the phone and nearly drove us off a bridge... Nearly had a conniption of the heart.”

“That is pretty bad. In my first ride I was this close-” You bring up your thumb and pointer finger, the pads barely a millimeter apart. “-to getting run over by a cement truck because the driver ran a red light. He got mad at me too ‘cause I didn’t tip him.”

“Good lord, that is quite the experience...” His brow furrowed slightly.

“I saw my life go past my eyes.” You say dramatically. “But hey, that’s Boston.” You sigh heavily. “Anyway, how long have you lived in the city?”

“Jus’ a couple of months.” Aha. Just around the time he first started taking the bus... “Yourself?”

“A couple of years. I feel more and more like a true Bostonian every day that passes.” You chuckle. “The plus side though, is that I can show you where all the good food is. I can be your personal tour guide!” It takes a couple of milliseconds for your brain to register what you had just said. “Well, if you’d like that... The offer, uh, stands?” What are you talking about?

“I think I jus’ might take you up on that, if you wouldn’t mind.” This man. Bless this beautiful man. God, that smile. “That bein’ said, I do believe this is my stop.”

“Already? Time flies when you’re having fun.” You smile.

“Yes it does. It was a pleasure meetin’ you, Mx. (L/N),” He stands up. “And thank you very much for your kindness.” He waves the handwarmer a little.

“You can call me (Y/N) and you are very welcome.”

“Then call me Benoit, if you please. Now you have yourself a good day.” He smiles, waves a little, and hurries off the bus. And just like that, your whole year has just been made.

Did you pass your stop a while ago?

Were you smiling like an absolute idiot anyway?

Was your heart running faster than a kitten on parade?

Yes, yes, and yes.

I hope you all like this! I had so much fun writing it and it just flowed out of me. Side note, the title is inspired by Trixie Mattel’s song, Gold. She’s a country singer, but it’s actually good, so check it out! If you have any constructive criticism or requests, please let me know! I am also a big fan of comments - they make my week every time! See you all in the next one! - Simpy

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