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edenesth · 10 months ago

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The Way to His Heart [10]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 4.5k

Trigger Warnings: graphic violence/torture, gore, implied mutilation

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 9 | Fic Masterlist | Part 11

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Wooyoung called out, entering the general's study with Jongho following closely behind, having been summoned to the estate.

Seonghwa looked up from his desk, "Ah yes, I heard you turned down the bonus incentive we offered. Why is that? Is there something else that you wish to have?"

Having encountered few who would refuse extra money, your husband found it hard to comprehend the private investigator's decision. Most people around him were usually drawn by the allure of his wealth or other associated benefits, which left him curious about Wooyoung's motives for declining the bonus. Surely, there was something specific he desired.

The younger man beamed, "My lord, I wasn't working so willingly for you because I wanted something more from you. Honestly, nothing makes me happier than being recognised by you! I just... okay, maybe there is one thing I really want."

Raising his brow, the general was not surprised by the sudden admission, "Go on, name it then."

With a cheeky grin, the investigator replied, "It's that you allow me to help you with whatever problems you have now!"

Your husband rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "What do you mean? I have no problems now; the worst is over."

"Really? Is that why you're here sulking alone instead of being with Lady Park? You clearly want to be near her, and yet, here you are, staying away from her because you haven't a clue how to face her after the traumatising ordeal you put her through yesterday."

That finally piqued Seonghwa's attention, prompting him to sit up straighter, though he attempted to maintain a nonchalant demeanour, "H-how did you figure that out?"

Without waiting for Wooyoung's response, he shook his head, "No, wait, actually, I don't want to know that. Just tell me... what should I do? I realise I haven't considered well enough what she went through, but I... I've never had to care for someone like this before, and I'm not really sure how to..."

The investigator offered an understanding smile, "My lord, the key to any relationship is communication. You need to talk to Lady Park. Ask her how she's feeling, and tell her you're sorry for what she went through. Avoiding each other won't solve anything; it will only create more distance between you two. You're her pillar of support now, and she needs to feel that you're there for her. You both deserve happiness, but it starts with open and honest communication."

Absorbing the advice, the general nodded thoughtfully, "You're right, Wooyoung. I appreciate your straightforwardness. I'll go talk to her and make things right."

Without hesitating, he sprang from his chair and made his way out of the study. The assistant and his friend couldn't contain their laughter, covering their mouths with their hands, but quickly composed themselves when Seonghwa glanced back at them, "Oh, and please, accept the bonus. You deserve it, especially after this."

Before Wooyoung could object, he had already exited the room and was rushing down the path toward the House of Lotus, his heart pounding at the thought of seeing his wife again.

He remembered how quiet you had been during the entire journey back home the day before, your gaze fixed on the passing scenery outside the window. While you weren't overtly distant or cold to him, you seemed lost in thought throughout dinner. You excused yourself early, retiring to your quarters. The atmosphere carried an unspoken tension, making him hesitant to say anything for fear of your potential reaction.

Reflecting on it, he realised he should have assured you that things would be better from that point forward. Rather than maintaining a facade of normalcy, he regretted not breaking the silence and being there for you in that moment of unease.

His steps hesitated, and his breath deepened as you finally appeared in his line of sight, seated alone in the pavilion outside your room. Your lady etiquette books lay open beside you, but the faraway look in your eyes remained glued to the horizon beyond the lotus pond. For a moment, he stood there, appreciating your beauty, suddenly feeling thankful you looked nothing like your father.

However, as soon as you turned your head slightly and noticed him standing by the entrance, he blinked rapidly, feeling flustered. Gathering his courage, he took a deep breath and approached you.

Just go talk to her, you fool.

Seeing him approach, you closed the books and made room for him to sit in the small pavilion. He offered a warm smile, "Hey, I hope I'm not bothering you or anything."

Shaking your head, you returned a small smile, "No, not at all. I tried to study, but I just... I couldn't."

As he settled down beside you, reaching for your hand, you didn't flinch or pull away. He released a relieved breath and moved closer, "It's alright, you don't have to force yourself. I know you're probably upset with me. I... I'm sorry, my dear."

Lifting your head to meet his eyes, you furrowed your brows, "What? Why would I be upset with you?"

He winced, wondering if you were intentionally testing him to see if he knew what he did wrong. But then again, he knew you would never do anything like that. Sighing, he admitted, "Look, I know I should've thought things through better yesterday. I was so focused on wanting to punish your family for what they did, I forgot about how horrible it must have been for you to go back there and sit through all of that."

"I acknowledge it was a mistake. My intention was to give you a chance to confront your family by taking you to your old room. I didn't think it would affect you so badly. I realise now that it was a misguided decision, and I regret taking you back to that place. I'm a goddamned idiot."

His admission tugged at your heart, and you responded by placing a comforting hand over his.

"Seonghwa, you're not an idiot. I'm not upset with you," You assured him, "I've been quiet since the visit because I'm still processing the fact that my own father killed my mother. All this time, I believed she died from sickness. Now, I can't help but wonder how different my life would have been if only she were still alive. He took her away from me just like that, and for what? All for his own selfish reasons..."

"I just... I feel so—" Tears welled up in your eyes, and your voice broke, "I-I'm sorry..." You pulled your hands away from him, attempting to wipe your eyes, but he gently grasped your shoulders and turned you to face him.

"No, you need to stop apologising. You have every right to be sad, and I'm here to tell you that you never have to endure any more of the pain you're going through alone. I'm here for you, okay? From now on, I want you to lean on me whenever things get too unbearable. Can you do that?"

Feeling the genuine warmth in Seonghwa's tone and seeing the unmistakable care in his eyes, you finally broke down. The weight of the revelations, the pain of your father's actions, and the years of emotional torment spilt over, and you couldn't hold back your tears any longer. He pulled you close, cradling you in his arms as you sobbed against his shoulder.

Whispering comforting words into your ear, he pressed gentle kisses onto the top of your head. His touch was a soothing balm, providing the comfort and support you desperately needed in that moment. As you let out your emotions, he held you tighter.

The sound of your heart-wrenching cries only caused an uncomfortable squeeze in his heart. The general had never experienced this kind of ache before. Throughout his life, he had always believed that no one had a tougher life than he did. But then you came along, with your fragile form, managing to shake his entire world and alter his perspectives on life. All of a sudden, the notion of having someone to protect and care for didn't seem so repulsive, especially when it was you.

You slowly pulled back, staring up at him through your wet lashes, and offered a grateful smile, "Seonghwa, I want to thank you for doing all this for me. I never imagined someone caring enough to go through all that trouble. I promise, in return, I'll try my hardest to be a worthy wife for you."

He wiped away your tears tenderly and gazed into your eyes, "You don't need to prove anything, my love. You're already perfect, just as you are."

Your heart raced, and your eyes widened as you stuttered, "W-wait, what... what did you just call me?"

He stilled, realising the words that had slipped from his mouth before he softened. Leaning close, he pressed his forehead against yours, "My love."

Seonghwa's presence became almost intoxicating. Feeling him so close, as if with a mind of its own, your eyes slowly fluttered closed. He took that as permission to lean in further, and after what felt like an eternity, his lips touched yours in a soft and tentative kiss. When you didn't push him away, he bravely angled his head before pressing his lips firmly against yours.

Finally, our first kiss.

Pulling away after a while to catch your breath, you bit your lip shyly, "I-I'm sorry if I wasn't—"

He shook his head, "Don't worry, it's my first time kissing someone too," He admitted, struggling to take his eyes off your swollen lips. A soft smile played on his lips as he caressed your cheek with his thumb, "Can I..." He asked with half-lidded eyes, and you nodded breathlessly.

Without wasting another moment, he captured your lips in another loving kiss. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the warmth of each other's presence. His touch was gentle yet filled with a depth of emotion. As the kiss deepened, you felt a rush of emotions, a mix of vulnerability and passion.

Feeling the need for air, he pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. Your eyes met, and you could see the affection and sincerity in his gaze, "You're perfect." He whispered, his voice filled with tenderness, realising that kissing you might just be his new favourite thing to do from now onwards. The moment lingered, the air charged with newfound emotions. It was a beginning, a sweet promise of the love that had blossomed between you.

"Your Majesty, please—"

The King slammed his fists against the handle of his throne, causing the minister to gasp and lower his head. He shook like a leaf, awaiting his impending doom as the ruler declared, "I don't want to hear another word from you, Jang. You're a bloody disappointment. Actually, you're worse than that, you monster."

Kneeling beside your father were your stepmother and stepsisters, equally trembling. Pathetic tears rolled down their cheeks as they attempted to put on a pity show, hoping to move His Majesty's heart. However, their efforts did little to appease his rage. He scoffed in disbelief at their audacity to cry, considering all the despicable things they had done to you and your mother.

This marked the first time the four women had set foot in the palace, and little did they anticipate it would be under such circumstances. The visit might also be their only time here, as the imminent judgement from the King would decide their fate.

Seonghwa stood in the corner, arms crossed over his chest, an amused expression on his face. He left home that morning after a lingering kiss on your lips, feeling rejuvenated and determined. Choosing not to burden you with the details of today's assembly, he shielded you from further thoughts about your family.

Don't worry, my love. I'll make sure they suffer a punishment worse than death.

"I can't stand to look at you imbeciles for another moment longer. Let's get this over with already. Royal Secretary Choi, would you be so kind as to enlighten us with all of Minister Jang's crimes and his punishments?" said the King.

Stepping forward from his corner next to the throne, San bowed, "As you wish, Your Majesty," Tugging open the scroll in his hands, he began reading out loud, "Minister Jang has committed a total of five crimes. First, he committed adultery voluntarily, and for that, he will be whipped with eighty lashes. Second, he committed the crime of official document forgery, and for that, he will be whipped an additional twenty lashes."

Dread filled the minister as he gulped, anxiously listening to the secretary move on to the next section, "Third, for the confinement, continuous abuse, and mistreatment of his own daughter, an innocent citizen, he will be flogged thirty times. Next, for violating the code of ethics as a minister, which is to be a law-abiding citizen, he will be stripped of his title and flogged another twenty times."

As your father's hands trembled, he attempted to hold himself up by pressing his sweaty palms against the floor, breathing heavily as he awaited the final and most severe punishment. San continued, "And finally, for the murder of his first wife, an innocent citizen, he will be sentenced to permanent exile."

That's... it?

Feeling a sliver of hope, the old man let out a small sigh of relief. At least it wasn't death by beheading or arsenic poisoning as he had feared. Banishment seemed acceptable; he supposed he could still live a quiet life somewhere away from here. Bowing deeply, he cried, "Thank you, Your Majesty! Your grace is immeasurable!"

All the ministers and officials present quickly stole glances at Seonghwa, wondering if he would throw a fit and object to the punishment that was yet to be the heaviest one. However, they failed to discern his feelings, as there was only an unreadable smirk on his handsome face.

Lady Jang and her daughters trembled as they awaited their turn. With a nod from the King, the secretary continued, "Moving on, Lady Jang has committed a total of four crimes. First, she voluntarily committed adultery, and for that, she will be whipped eighty lashes. Second, she committed the crime of official document forgery, and for that, she will be whipped an additional twenty lashes."

She nodded to herself, seemingly already accepting her fate, as she listened, "Third, for the confinement, continuous abuse, and mistreatment of the minister's eldest daughter, an innocent citizen, she will be flogged thirty times. And finally, for being an accomplice to the murder of the first Lady Jang, she will be sentenced to penal servitude for life."

Her eyes shot up immediately, finding it hard to accept that she would be separated from her husband. She had believed she, too, would be exiled along with him. But she quickly lowered her gaze as soon as she saw the glare the King had directed at her, as if daring her to complain about it.

Oh god, my life is over...

Noticing the King's patience wearing thin, San quickly concluded with the final sentencing, "Lastly, for the confinement, continuous abuse, and mistreatment of the minister's eldest daughter, an innocent citizen, the three young misses of the Jang family will be flogged thirty times each and sentenced to penal servitude for a total of thirty years."

All three of the sisters' jaws fell slack at their punishment. After living luxurious lives like spoiled brats for so long, they were now expected to be servants, performing hard labour for three decades. All their dreams of getting married and leading comfortable lives were shattered. The prospect of finding suitors after serving their sentences seemed bleak. Their lives were forever ruined, and things would never be the same.

"Now that that's settled, remove these individuals from my sight, and see to it that they receive their physical punishments by today. I don't want their presence contaminating my palace walls any longer than necessary. Moving on to the next agenda, let us discuss who will stand in as the interim Minister of Military Affairs until we elect a new one." The ruler grumbled, waving his hands dismissively.

Seonghwa grinned smugly, relishing the way your father's face fell as he absorbed His Majesty's words. The King fully intended to drive the point home, reminding him that, no matter how much he believed he contributed to the nation, he, too, was just as disposable. Consider it emotional torment for further punishment, if you will.

As the members of the Jang family were forcefully pulled to their feet and guided toward the palace torture chamber where all punishments for criminals were administered, the general bowed deeply, "Your Majesty, forgive this humble subject for not feeling too well. Would it be possible for me to excuse myself from the remainder of today's assembly?"

With a knowing glint in his eyes, the King nodded, "Of course, my boy. Nothing matters more than your well-being. I'll have Royal Secretary Choi send you the minutes of today's meeting later on."

All eyes were fixed on your husband as he confidently exited the hall, wearing an excessively pleased expression, looking a little too content to be feeling unwell as he had claimed. It became evident to everyone that he was plotting something, a scheme that even His Majesty was privy to and had tacitly approved.

"P-please, have mercy!"

Screams reverberated within the dim and eerie confines of the torture chamber, a place the general once frequented during his duties of interrogating spies, war criminals, and suspicious individuals to maintain peace within the nation.

The familiar sounds of your family's agonising cries filled his ears, and he couldn't suppress the chuckle that escaped his lips as he entered, "Ah yes, music to my ears."

Upon his arrival, all the royal guards present swiftly bowed deeply and greeted Seonghwa with respect, "Good day, General Park!" They dared not continue until he gave them a nod, "Go on, don't let me stop you. I'm only here to enjoy the show."

"Yes, sir!" They chanted in unison. To many young soldiers and palace guards, he was akin to a god, an embodiment of success they aspired to achieve one day. Therefore, his mere presence motivated them to perform their duties with increased ruthlessness and precision.

Taking a seat in the centre of the room, your husband bit his lip with a smug expression, locking eyes with your father whose gaze reflected anguish. The elderly man lay face down on a wooden table, enduring lash after lash on his already bloody and battered back. His painful ordeal was far from over.

Whimpering, your father pleaded, "S-Seonghwa, I'm s-still your father-in-law! Please, at least show a little mercy to your wife's father!" Beside him, his wife nodded pathetically, sharing the same painful fate. Meanwhile, the three daughters stood frozen in a corner, wrists cuffed, awaiting their turn to face their beatings.

A devilish laughter escaped the general as he shot a menacing glare at the former minister, "Oh, I'm sorry, was that supposed to make things any better? I would show you mercy if only you had shown my wife any. You shouldn't have said anything, you fool," Turning to the guard in charge of whipping your father, your husband ordered, "Not hard enough, soldier. I want to see his skin tear."

"Yes, sir!" Striking with increased force, the lashes landed on the old man's back, inflicting wounds that would take months to heal. The continuous shrieks of pain only served to widen the smile on Seonghwa's face, "And to think you were thanking His Majesty for his grace; you've underestimated the severity of being whipped, haven't you? Did you really think you were going to walk out of here with a small bruise? Dream on."

"Oh, I can't wait for all of you to experience the wonders of flogging! It will be delightful, a punishment perfectly suited for your kind." The general sang, eyeing the three girls slyly.

They cowered under his intense gaze, suddenly regretting every action they took on the day of your visit. Perhaps if they hadn't attempted any of those, they might have gotten away with a lighter sentence. But there was no point dwelling on such thoughts now.

"Father! Mother!" The girls cried, witnessing their parents only now completing the first half of their punishment. Before they could continue their wailing, guards approached them, saying, "Quiet down! Worry about yourselves instead; it's your turn."

The former minister and his wife looked practically lifeless by the time the guards were finished with their hundred lashes each. The skin on their backs was completely torn open, blood gushing out relentlessly. They were nearly unconscious by the time the guards moved them to separate poles, where they would be beaten with a heavy stick all over their bodies.

Letting out a small yawn, Seonghwa signalled for them to prepare for the flogging. This would be entertaining to witness; most criminals barely survived this punishment by the time it concluded. He would relish the idea of them being left in critical conditions.

"Enjoy yourselves! Thirty times each for what you've all done to my wife – just the perfect amount to leave you halfway to hell. Don't worry; you'll wish you were dead by the end of this. But rest assured, we will keep you alive," Your husband exclaimed with a clap of his hands, "Now, I want you to think of all the things you've done to my wife as you endure this. Can we all do that?"

In the ensuing silence, the guards approached each family member, forcefully striking them with the heavy sticks in their hands. With just one hit, all of them began howling in pain, "Answer the general! Can you all do as you are told?!"

"Y-yes! Yes!" All five of them sobbed miserably, and the general beamed, "Fantastic! Now, let the official flogging begin! The first one does not count, alright? Consider it warm up!"

The insanity in his eyes was genuinely terrifying, and your family was once again reminded of his reputation. Suddenly, it all made sense. This was how it felt to be a victim of his cruelty. They never should have sent you to him; that was their biggest mistake, and nothing they do or say could ever change that now.

"Yes, sir!"

And so it began, the screams that now filled the room were even more piercing than the ones during the first round of whipping.

Approaching each family member one by one, Seonghwa smirked, "Remember all the times you starved her?" Jinjoo nodded in between shrieks, "Good. And you, recall all the times you insulted her and made her feel small?" Jinhee repeated her sister's actions, nodding furiously, "Very good. And you, remember all the times you did something wrong and blamed it on her so that she would take your punishments for you?"

Jinah cried, tears and snot running down her sweaty face, "I'm sorry!" He shook his head, "Will saying a useless sorry change anything? Nope. Hit her harder, soldier," With a grin of approval, he moved on to your stepmother, "And you, recall all the times you kept her locked up in that prison cell you call her room?" Not wanting to suffer like her eldest, she nodded aggressively, "Good."

Finally stopping in front of your father, he crossed his arms over his chest, "And you, remember all the times you laid your hands on her? Your own daughter?" The former minister nodded quickly but was not spared, "Good, hit him even harder so he never forgets how it feels."

"Twenty-nine, thirty." The beatings stopped for the four women, and they collapsed one by one onto the floor like rag dolls. Blood trickled from their noses and the corners of their lips, their bodies covered in countless bruises and open wounds, soaking their clothes red. And that is only what can be seen on the outside; who knew what fatal internal injuries they could be suffering from.

With his hands propped on his hips, Seonghwa took in the sight with satisfaction, "Very well, some of these scars should last you for life. Now, you look as bad as the way you'd left my wife. Actually, worse. But that's good. I'm very happy with the outcome. Guards, take them away and make sure to send them to places where they're known to treat their servants poorly."

The girls sobbed upon hearing that, "General, please, have mercy! We've already suffered enough!" Your husband scoffed, "Mercy? Have you not been paying attention this entire time? I'm not known for that. Get them out of my sight."

As the guards dragged the wailing women out, they cried for their husband and father. The former minister yelled, still taking his twenty additional beatings as he watched his wife and daughters go, "W-will you not at least let me say my final goodbyes to them?"

"Minister, please don't make me laugh. Did you also allow my wife and her poor mother a final goodbye?" The old man had nothing to say at that, grunts of pain escaping his lips as he tried to endure the remainder of his punishment despite feeling like all of his insides had been beaten to mush at this point. He didn't have to look down to know that he was soaked in blood; he could feel the sting on his wounds whenever the slightest bit of wind blew past.

Just a bit more, and I'm free.

« Preview of Part 11 »

"Forty-nine, fifty." Your father sighed in relief when the punishment finally ceased. Collapsing to the ground upon being untied, he stared blankly ahead, feeling pain throughout his entire body. Slowly but surely, he slipped into unconsciousness due to the loss of blood.

Unfortunately, his respite was short-lived. A bucket of dirty water was abruptly dumped over him, causing him to scream in agony as the injuries on his body stung intensely, bringing tears to his eyes.

"Did you think it was over?" His blood ran cold as he noticed he was now tied to a chair, unable to move. With most of the guards gone, only him and Seonghwa remained.

"What do you think you're doing, general? I've completed all my physical punishments; you're supposed to banish me now!" The old man croaked, his eyes widening in fear as he noticed the dagger in your husband's hand.

The general burst into laughter, "Oh, minister, you can be quite slow at times. Did you genuinely believe that His Majesty's decision not to sentence you to death was an act of kindness? Who do you think requested your exile?"

"Y-you—"

Seonghwa smirked, "Indeed, it was me. Killing you would have been too merciful. No, I want you to endure a life so filled with pain that you wish for death every single day. Now, after seeing how skilled you were at begging all day, I believe you'd make a very talented beggar. Do you know what would make you a successful beggar?"

Tears streaming down his face, your father shook his head hopelessly as your husband traced the blade against his skin before whispering, "One without limbs."

That was the most violence I have ever written HAHA I had to channel my inner Joker for Seonghwa's character. Anyway, I hope that was satisfying enough!

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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Tag list (cont.): see comment/reply section

#edenesth #the way to this heart #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #arranged marriage au #joseon era #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #ateez fic #historical au

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apute11as · 11 months ago

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Chosen family - Barcelona femeni x teen!reader

Summary: You’ve been keeping a secret for too long and the team start to figure it out and how to help you through it!

Warnings⚠️ Abus3, vi0lence, loss of parents, descriptions of injury, angst, hurt comfort, fluff

Author note: hey guys this is an angsty one, don’t read if you get triggered by any of the themes above! Hope everyone is well, I’ll be posting at lot more soon just getting through exam season right now! But yeah enjoy the story, leave any feedback or requests in the comments 🩷

P.s. My DMs are always open for anything, Woso related or if you just want to talk! Always here for anything xx

~~~~~~~~~~

You tried to push down the worry of your current situation as you got ready for training in your room. You were only 16 years old, due to your mother passing a year ago, you lived with your father in Barcelona.

The team knew about all of this of course, Alexia more than anyone had been especially supportive, knowing how it felt having lost her father when she wasn’t much older than you. She’d become somewhat of a sister to you. Her, alba and Eli becoming the female figures you lacked in your life, always offering advice and help whenever you needed it.

They knew your father wasn’t the most loving and that since your mother’s passing he’d become a cruel depiction of his former self. What they didn’t know was quite how deep that cruelty ran. He had turned to drinking when your mother had died, you regularly came home from training to find him passed out from the alcohol. It had started as pitiful, he’d just cry and you’d hug him and the two of you would comfort each other, but recently his sadness had turned to anger.

He’d always had a temper and was never the nicest but your mother’s warm presence always made his outbursts bearable but now that she was gone he had no one to regulate that anger. At first it started with hurtful words, some aimed at you and some not but in recent times, his anger had turned physical.

The first time he hit you, you’d wanted nothing more than to cry into Alexia’s arms and have her tell you everything was going to be ok. You decided against that, using your better judgment that it would cause a complicated mess that you didn’t want to condemn her to. It had happened twice more since, on Monday he’d shoved you backwards into a wardrobe, causing you to cut your head, something you’d brushed off as tripping and falling which the team seemed to buy. Yesterday he’d grabbed you by the wrists and squeezed until bruises formed, before pushing you into the table where you bashed your ribs.

Now as you observed yourself in the mirror, you could see the dark bruises that had already formed across your stomach and ribs, matching ones adorned your wrists. You pulled your hoodie over your head and slung your bag over your shoulder, wincing slightly as it came back round and hit your side.

Ingrid and Mapi would be here to pick you up soon as they’d starting taking you to training as you’d told them your father picked up earlier shifts at work (also known as day drinking). Your thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a knock on the door you leaped from your spot in the kitchen and went to open it. You of course, were met with the faces of Mapi and Ingrid who smiled widely at you.

“Hola pequeña!” beamed Mapi

“Hola Mapi” you sighed. What you weren’t expecting was for her to barge through the door.

“Sorry bebita I just need to fill up my water. Someone decided to take a sharp turn whilst I was having a drink.” She explained, gesturing to Ingrid who looked unimpressed at the blonde’s antics.

“Woah what’s all this?” She questioned at the various, empty beer and rum bottles that littered your kitchen.

“Erm my dad had some people over yesterday that’s all” you offered nervously

“Seems like they had quite a party” she said, getting at the sheer quantity of it with a raised eyebrow.

“Haha yeah I don’t know I wasn’t there” you replied

“Wait where were you then?” asked Ingrid, asserting herself into the conversation

“Well… I was at my friend’s house for a bit, then I came home” you offered, unconvincingly.

“Oh ok then, well grown adults really should be clearing up after themselves, we can swing by after and help you if your dad is at work?” Added Mapi

“NO!” You yelled, alarming the pair of them. “Sorry, no thank you he’ll be home later and said he’d sort it but thanks anyways” you said, attempting to save yourself due to the accidental outburst.

“Sure that’s fine…” Mapi replied, sounding unsure

“Ready to go now?” Questioned Ingrid from her new found position in the hallway

“Yep so ready!” You responded

The drive to training was slightly awkward, so you’d ask for some music in an attempt to diffuse the situation (it had little effect).

——

Upon reaching the ground, you hurried out the car and wandered a little ahead, fully aware of the fact that they strolled behind muttering about your odd behaviour. You made it inside with the couple trailing a few paces behind you and were met with the smiling face of Lucy bronze.

“Hey y/n how are you?” She beamed

“Hey Luce I’m good how are you?” You replied, offering her a smile of your own

“Good good, Keira kept pestering me about being late this morning though” she said with a sigh

“You were still in bed when we were leaving in 30 minutes!” Keira insisted with an eye roll.

You chuckled at the couple’s childlike antics as you walked over to your locker and began stripping off your clothing when you heard a sharp intake of breath next to you.

“What?” You questioned the English defender

“What happened to your ribs?” She asked in a hushed voice

“Mierda, I forgot about them. I erm tripped… and fell… into the bed post” you replied, knowing you had to work on your lying.

“It looks quite painful and it’s all around your front and sides, how can you do that from falling?” Asked Lucy, concern lacing her voice

“I just did ok, leave it please!” You demanded with a huff, pulling your jersey over your head.

Lucy didn’t push further, though she did make a mental note to keep an eye on you.

——

When you finally made it outside you were met with the warm Catalonian sun beaming down on your face. You had a mandatory team talk and then Jonatan, as usual asked you to pair up. Without a second thought, alexia gripped your wrists and dragged you to her to partner up. You winced noticeably at the gesture as her firm grip found its self on the new formed bruises from yesterday.

“Estas bien pequeña (are you ok)” she questioned with a concerned expression

“Si Ale estoy bien (I’m ok)” you assured the older girl.

“What’s this on your wrists?” She inquired with a firm tone. “Did I do this?” she was now increasingly concerned.

“No no you didn’t do it it was already there” you replied hurriedly

“What was it from?” She questioned further

“Erm from… the match? I had a tussle with someone she gripped my wrists too hard” you lied

“You’re lying to me bebita I can see it in your eyes” she scolded “but why are you lying I don’t understand” her brow furrowed

“Alexia! Y/N! Stop gossiping and get over here!” Yelled Mapi in a teasing tone, a tone that only she could get away with using towards Alexia due to their close friendship

“ay dios mío Maria we’re coming” replied Alexia and before she could say anything more you’d disappeared, already jogging over to join the group and no doubt, avoid her further questioning.

——

Training ended and you rushed ahead, desperate to get away asap to avoid questioning from the multiple behaviours that had noticed your odd behaviour or the state of your body.

You reached the changing room out of breath (more so from sprinting over there than the actual 2 hour training session you’d just attended). You quickly shoved your stuff into your bag and began to scramble away before your upper arm was grasped.

“Where do you think you’re going” rung the voice of Lucy Bronze

“Home?” You replied as if it were obvious

“I thought Alexia was taking you home?” She questioned

“Oh erm yeah tell her it’s ok I’m gonna take a bus” you offered hoping she’d leave you alone

“Alexia come here” beckoned Lucy, her body shielding you from the exit, as you groaned at the implications of this conversation.

“Que pasa?” Questioned alexia with curiosity

“Y/N says she’s getting the bus home” grasped Lucy

“No she’s coming with me? I’m taking her home” she was confused.

“I think the two of you need to have a chat” suggested the brunette

“Yes I think so too” Alexia responded, her disapproval clear in her voice.

The two of you wandered to her car silently, she kept glancing over at you, almost to check you hadn’t disappeared again. She even opened the car door and watched you get in to ensure your presence.

The drive started in silence yet again, with you picking at the skin on your fingernails, but that was short lived.

“Bebita please answer me truthfully when I ask you this…” Alexia began, her eyes not leaving the road ahead. “What happened to your wrists and ribs? Yes Lucy told me about that before you change the subject again” she finished

“I don’t know what to say Ale” you said, your eyes beginning to gloss over.

“The truth Por favor amor” she insisted, her eyes still not looking at yours.

“My papa, he’s taken up drinking lately, quite heavily and it’s changed him” you started

Alexia knew where this was going but she let you finish, unsure of what to say even when you did.

“He-he gets angry now all the time. He used to be an angry person anyways but Mama always used to calm him down and now she’s gone I just-“ you choked back on tears.

Alexia had pulled the car over and took your hand it hers, squeezing gently as if willing you to continue.

“He would shout at me, come home drunk and just scream” you continued. “It wasn’t physical for a while it was just words, b-but recently…” you trailed off once more, finally meeting Alexia’s eyes that were glossed over and full of sadness. “Recently he started to do other things. He hit me and threw me into things, like in something to take his anger out on” Alexia’s grip lay firmer on your hand as she let you finish. “It’s like he’s a different person lo siento” you spluttered as the tears streamed down your face

“Bebita you have nothing! And I mean nothing to be sorry about. I’m sorry that we didn’t notice sooner” she replied with a maternal warmth in voice.

“It’s ok Ale I was trying to hide it” you added, calming down a little.

“But why pequeña? We could’ve helped you” tears were threatening to fall from her eyes now.

“But all that would happen is I’d end up in care or on my own and I can’t do that Ale, anyone is better than no one at all” you urged.

“You would have had me! You do have me!” She corrected.

“I know Alexia and I love you so much for that but I couldn’t live with you, interrupt your life, how would you girlfriend feel?” You questioned the blonde.

“She would understand bebita you know that really” insisted Alexia.

“What am I going to do” you cried

“Is he home?” She asked

“Who?” You rebounded

“Your papa” Alexia winced at the name that in her opinion, that man was no longer worthy of.

“No he’ll be at the bar for at least a few more hours”

“Bueno, we’re going to go back to your apartment and gather some stuff and then we’re going to drive to my Mami’s okay?”

“Okay” you weren’t overly convinced yet you still went along with the older girl’s plan, praying your father hadn’t decided to make an early departure from the bar.

——

Upon reaching your apartment block, you gave Alexia your keys as she insisted she would go first, keeping a protective arm on your body behind hers. You let out a sigh of relief when you realised your father was still out.

Alexia’s eyes scanned the floor, taking in the broken glass and general mess everywhere, the two of you tread carefully over to your room. The first thing Alexia noticed upon entering was the sheer contrast of your bedroom, to the rest of the house. It was near spotless, with most of your belongings having seemingly vanished.

“I put most of it under my bed or in the wardrobe” you proclaimed, as if you’d just read her mind. “I didn’t want to give him any extra ammo” you half joked, but Alexia didn’t laugh, instead she pulled you into a tight hug, a hug that said more than words ever could.

You pulled away eventually, realising that you were going to have to start doing some packing as every minute that ticked by was time closer to your father coming home. You started by gathering up your football gear, as it was likely your most important possessions, asides from your memory box that you’d made up when your mother had passed. Standing there for a second, you ran your hands over the cold metal of the lid, reminiscing on a time when your family was “perfect” and things were much happier.

Alexia on the other side of your room, was gathering up some clothes for you. On another day, you’d cringe at the fact that your captain was rummaging through your underwear drawer, but today was not that day.

“Almost done bebé?” questioned the midfielder

“So just gathering some last bits” you assured her, before piling a couple of textbooks, your water bottle and your laptop into your bag.

Just as the two of you made your way out of the bedroom, your mind clicked.

“Wait!” you urged

Alexia turned around at rapid speed, a mix of confusion and concern overtaking her. But before she could question you, you reappeared at the door holding a stuffed bear.

“Sorry it’s childish, it’s just something my Abuela gave me when I was younger”

“No no not childish at all, it’s sweet actually” she smiled. “Don’t tell anyone but I’ve still got my childhood teddy bear at the back of my wardrobe” she admitted

“Really?”

“Sí, now vamos cariño” she insisted

——

You loaded your stuff into Alexia’s cupra before walking around to open the passenger seat door, Alexia following suit.

“I’ve text Mami telling her what’s happened and she said you’re more than welcome to stay at hers” offered the captain “if you’d rather stay with me that’s perfectly fine, I have a spare room, you’ll have to share with the Nala though” she chuckled.

“Thank you Alexia, I’m honestly happy either way I’m just so grateful you’ve been so kind” you replied genuinely.

“Don’t thank me chica te amo mucho ok? If you ever need anything or anyone I’m here, remember that.”

“Gracias Ale”

——

The journey to Eli’s was short and once you’d arrived, Alexia made quick work of unloading your minimal bags and carrying them all herself, despite your protests.

She did however hand one to you when the two of you reached the door, just so that she had a spare hand to knock with, which she did.

The door opened and you were surprisingly greeted with the face of Alba, Alexia’s younger sister.

“Hola chica, it’s been a while” she hugged you, albeit lighter than normal (the first indicator that her mother had told her everything).

“I saw you last week Albs” you smiled

“Oh yes… well it’s been a while anyways” she laughed awkwardly

“Hola mija” came Eli’s voice from behind

“Hola Mrs putellas, thank you so much for offering me a room” you smiled and hugged her back.

“I’ve told you call me Eli, and it’s no problem at all. I hope you don’t mind but Alexia told us what happened, you’re welcome to stay as long as you like, you’re basically my daughter already”

She wasn’t wrong, even before your father’s drinking problem, you were here at least once a week for dinner (Alexia and Alba insisting you were their mother’s favourite child, to which she didn’t disagree with).

“Gracias Eli” you smiled at her

——

The four of you sat and ate dinner and discussed what was to happen, ultimately deciding you’d stay with Alexia for a little while as her apartment was closer to the training grounds and it would be easier for her to take you with her everyday. Then it was decided that Eli would file for your adoption, something you knew your father would agree to as just he wasn’t himself anymore. You’d set him up in rehabilitation for his alcoholism and see to it that he gets better.

Despite Alexia’s disapproval, you’d decided not to file a statement and testify against your father, stating that it would cause unnecessary issues and that you’d be far away from him anyways. Eventually, all was agreed and you and Alexia returned home to inform Olga of the plans, which to your slight surprise, she was completely okay with.

Alexia decided that the two of you wouldn’t attend training this week, you had no match anyways due to it being Christmas break so the two of you spent some time together. This helped not only you, but her more than you’d ever know. Ultimately, you decided that you’d tell the team what happened after the break, deciding now to enjoy the holidays with your knew found family.

#woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #espwnt x reader #fcb femeni x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas #lucy bronze #lucy bronze x reader #mapi leon x reader #ingrid engen x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona femeni #angst with a happy ending #hurt/comfort #I need Christmas asap

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ashwhowrites · 4 months ago

Note

can you pleaseeeee write something like this but for robin? instead, it's just steve who keeps interrupting them. 💀 "damn it dingus you really need a girlfriend."

also, thank you so much for taking time out of your day to always post such amazing works for us to read 🫶

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Interuptions

Robin giggled as she dragged her girlfriend into the video store closet.

"You're on the clock, Buckley" Y/N teased, but doing nothing to stop her girlfriend's wandering hands.

"Just a few minutes, Steve will survive" Robin said, her lips kissing the sweet spot on Y/N's neck. Y/N gave in, shivering as Robin's lips moved around her neck. She stretched out her neck, giving Robin more access.

Within minutes the two were in a heated make out session. Robin had Y/N pushed against the wall, her hand under Y/N's bra. Y/N tried to quiet her moans as Robin played with her nipples.

The two jumped apart when the door swung open. Steve on the other side.

"I thought you locked it!" Y/N whispered harshly

Robin rolled her eyes and walked out of the closet, shoving Steve aside.

Robin moaned as Y/N's tongue swirled around her clit. Her back arched off the bed and her hands were tangled in Y/N's hair.

Robin had no shame as she rode Y/N's tongue, whimpering and whining loudly. Robin loved when her girlfriend ate her out, she was skilled and knew how to make Robin melt into the mattress.

"Close" Robin choked out

"BUCKLEY!"

Robin panicked and threw the blanket over her girlfriend. Y/N under the blanket as she covered her mouth with her hand. She clenched her eyes shut, knowing if she kept them open she'd get lost in the sight of Robin's wet cunt. Robin pushed down her shirt and tried to look presentable.

Robin panted as Steve walked through her open bedroom door.

"Are you ready?" Steve asked, completely oblivious to Y/N hiding in between Robin's thighs.

"For?"

"I have a date and need you to be there In case I need to escape!" Steve explained. "Now hurry, gotta leave like yesterday."

Robin groaned as Steve walked out of her room. Y/N slipped out from the blanket, wiping her mouth.

"Maybe next time?" Y/N offered with a smile

Steve was passed out drunk on Robin's couch, a long night of partying left him unconscious.

Robin waited until Steve began to snore before she got up. Walking as quietly as she could to her bedroom. She creeped in, Y/N was rubbing lotion on her legs. Her hair was still wet from the shower and she only wore a towel.

Robin closed the door behind her, a smirk on her face as she crawled on the bed. She pushed Y/N's wet hair to the side and pressed kisses to her naked skin.

"Smell amazing" Robin hummed, her hands easily moving down to Y/N's thighs. Y/N felt herself getting turned on as her girlfriend rubbed her thighs. Robin inched closer to Y/N's cunt. Using one finger to slide up and down her cunt, Y/N shivered and whined for more.

Robin took mercy on her and sunk two fingers inside her girlfriend. Y/N let out a low moan as Robin's fingers moved inside of her, Y/N clenched around her.

"Yeah? That feels good?" Robin cooed in Y/N's ear.

"Fuck, Rob" Y/N moaned

Robin smirked and slipped in another finger.

"Rub your clit for me, baby" Robin demanded. She picked up her pace, fucking Y/N harder as Y/N played with her clit. Y/N threw her head back as she circled her clit, her brain fuzzy as Robin's fingers hit every spot inside of her.

"I need to cum" Y/N whined, rubbing her clit as fast as she could as Robin fucked her.

"Right there!" Y/N gasped, "there fuck"

"ROBIN I NEED TO PUKE!" Steve's loud voice cut through the room. Both girls groaned with frustration as Robin removed her fingers.

Robin dropped her forehead against Y/N's shoulder.

"I'm going to kill him" Robin growled as she got up, slamming the bedroom door behind her.

Y/N and Robin were tangled together in Y/N's sheets. One place they figured they could escape from Steve. Their clothes were scattered on her bedroom floor.

Robin panted as she moved her hips against Y/N's thigh. Robin's bare cunt easily move against Y/N's skin, the pressure was perfect against Robin's clit. Y/N held Robin's hips in a bruising grip.

"That's it, Roby. Ride my thigh like a good girl" Y/N teased, her lips in a smirk as Robin shuttered at the nickname. Robin smashed her hands on the headboard, right above Y/N's head.

Robin rode her thigh desperately, chasing the burning orgasm she needed for weeks. Her skin was drenched in sweat and her thighs began to shake.

Y/N's phone by her bed began to ring, but both girls ignored it. Y/N kept her focus on sucking marks on Robin's skin, and Robin could only hear her breathing pick up as she got closer to her orgasm.

The phone rang again, Y/N picked it up and slammed it down right away, ending the noise.

"Gonna" Robin choked out

"That's it, cu-"

"RINGGGG"

Robin huffed and kept her hips moving as she reached for Y/N's phone. She chucked the whole thing to the floor, yanking the cord out of the wall.

Both girls sighed with relief as no more sound distracted them. Robin thrashed on Y/N's thigh, her cum soaking Y/N's skin as Robin cried out. Robin rode out her orgasm, her hips jolting as the pleasure became painful.

Robin shivered at the sensitivity on her clit when Y/N gently pushed her off. She pushed Robin on her back and moved between her legs, Robin shuddered as Y/N's tongue flattened in between her folds, licking up all the cum that ran down Robin's cunt.

Y/N jumped as a loud bang landed on her front door, over and over. She quickly threw on a robe and walked to her window.

"It's Harrigton" Y/N laughed

"He seriously needs to get a girlfriend," Robin said as she rolled her eyes.

#robin buckley x female reader #Robin buckley x reader #robin buckley smut x female reader #Robin buckley x smut #robin buckley requests #ashwhowrites

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alexa-fika · 9 months ago

Note

Hello! I am the anon who requested the winged!child! Dracule reader, I got so giddy when I saw your reply. And yes the red haired is fine.

Seriously your work is awesome ♡♡

Lost Birds ( Red Haired Pirates x gn!child!Dracule!Reader)

A/N: Guys Finally! After watching the screen for hours it finally hit me and I think I COOKED, also thank you anon l, you’re gonna make me blush. -Yall I fell asleep while writing that this was meant to be posted yesterday 💀

Dividers by @saradika

Yassop sat at the crow’s nest, watching over the ship as usual and looking for any danger to the Red Force; his attention diverted to bustle below him, his crew involved in their usual antics despite the dangers awaiting them upon their arrival.

He glanced at his Captain talking to his first mate; when he first announced they were to head to Marineford, he was surprised, but he never hesitated; he knew what was at stake, how much lives could be lost if this was left alone

His thoughts were quickly interrupted as a sound came from above him; his head shooting up, he promptly took out his weapon and aimed it at an approaching figure, alerting the crew below him

His eyes narrowed as a sound started being heard the closer the figure got

“What is it, Yassop?” Beckman questions from the deck

Yassop stayed silent with his weapons still drawn, his eyes carefully analysing the figure in approaching them,

“We have company,” Yassop finally responded in a calm voice.

“There!” He said shooting towards the figure

“Ah!” Dokucha exclaims quickly, diving down to avoid the shot

“Hey! Mister, that’s rude!” they exclaim, landing on the deck of the ship only to shriek at the sound of a gun being cocked right behind them

Behind them stood Benn Beckman, pointing his weapon at them the rest of the officers not far behind

“Who are you?” He inquired, the usual cigarette resting on his lips, his eyebrows raising as Dokucha turned around, his weapon lowering slightly

“You’re just a kid…wait, you’re…”

“Dokucha?” Asks Shanks, walking closer to the small child kneeling down next to them

“Uncle Shanks? Uncle Shanks!” They laugh, throwing themselves at the man

Shanks laughed, wrapping his arms around the child, who was visibly smaller than him

"It's been a while since I've seen you" he smiled, brushing their hair

“You know them, Cap?” Question Yassop climbing down from his previous spot

“Did you drink too much yassop, or did you forget their face?” Pipes Beckman

Yassop Glances at the kid for a few seconds, taking notice of the wings, quickly realizing that not only were those the source of the noise that had alerted him before but that they were too familiar to him

He turns his head around in a flash as recognition washes in his features

“This is Hawkeyes kid?!”

“Papa?” The kid questions happily hearing their father's nickname

Beckmann sighs at this

“What are you doing here?”

“Umm, Papa went somewhere, and I wanted to fly for a bit; I flew too far and got lost.”

Shanks snickers at their words, standing up and ruffling their hair

“I think your father is heading to the same place we are headed, so you are in luck.”

“You’ll take me to Papa Uncle Shanks?”

“I’ll take you to him, but be warned,” he says to the child, smiling,” It’ll probably be a bit chaotic when we get there.”

“Okay!” they exclaim, their eyes glancing at the man behind him

“Hey! You were the one shooting me!” they accused, flying towards the sniper

Yasopp laughs, watching the child make a dash at them

“I wasn’t aiming at you, it was a warning shot,” the man replies nervously

“I ‘m sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

“Don’t be hard on the poor man, Dokucha; you did take all of us off guard,” laughed Shanks

“Hmph”

“Just don’t fly too far from our ship,” he says, still ruffling their hair

“I don’t want you getting lost again.”

“Okayyy, Uncle Shanks,”

“Is this really Hawkeye’s kid?” Mutters Hongo, looking at the child

“Im Papa’s kid!” The child cheers

Hongo smiles a bit, shaking his head at the sight

“I like your wings,” he tells the child

“Thank you!” They said, spinning around and flapping their wings

“Mmhm!”

“How do you sleep without smacking your wings everywhere?”

Hongo asks with an amused smile

They gasp offended

“I know how to use them! Let me smack you with them!” They said, shooting toward the doctor

“Still as lively as ever,” Shanks laughs, taking hold of them

“Let me at them, Uncle Shanks!”

“No need for that; Hongo’s one of us,” Shanks responds, putting the child down

“Hongo is our doctor, after all.”

They pout at him

Beckmann raises an eyebrow at the child

“Do you wanna cause a fight, little one?”

“They were insulting my flying!”

Beckmann sighs in amusement at the child

“He was just asking you about your wings.”

“Oh”

He smiles and ruffles the kid's hair,

“Just don’t smack the doctor.”

Okay I admit that ending could use some work but.. yeah thats it it needs more work 😂

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

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rahuratna · 2 months ago

Text

Synopsis: Five different perspectives on Nanami Kento.

Tags: Angst, humour, mystery, character study.

Warnings: canon-typical violence.

"I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.

Whatever I see I swallow immediately

Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.

I am not cruel, only truthful‚

The eye of a little god, four-cornered."

~ The Mirror, Sylvia Plath

Yoshinari remembers that day well. Even now, decades later, his team leader's near-panicked expression stands out with harsh clarity in his mind. Yoshinari had just mentioned that he hadn't finished the analysis due that afternoon because he'd been struck down with a bad bout of flu. Whirling on his heel, the team lead had really let fly with his irritation.

"But we had an agreement! You were to complete the analysis the day before yesterday! There'll be no excuse at all for us walking into that meeting unprepared!"

"But sir ... I had a lot to catch up on that evening. And I - "

"I'm done with this conversation! Come up with something, or explain to the chief why you couldn't finish your basic tasks on time."

Left standing in the empty hallway, Yoshinari had let frustration, anger, self-pity and helplessness wash over him, bitter as a brackish tide. Nobody ever listened to him. Nobody ever understood how the demands of this job couldn't be humanly met unless he practically lived at the office. Nobody cared what his state of health was. Nobody -

"Are you all right?"

Hastily wiping off the corner of his eye, he turned to see none other than Nanami Kento standing in the doorway leading from the hallway to the main office floor. Nanami, whose reports were always turned in on time. Nanami, whose suits were never rumpled, whose clients never complain, whose presentations were always meticulous, who never spilled a drop or wasted a crumb when he ate -

Tamping down the rising envy and resentment for the tall man standing before him, Yoshinari sighed and embraced the inevitable. It isn't Nanami's fault. Nanami is simply doing the job, like the rest of them. He just happened to be a lot more competent at it than most.

"I'm a bit ... under the weather, that's all. There's a meeting this afternoon. I won't be prepared because I haven't had time to get the quarterly analysis done."

Nanami watched him in silence. Yoshinari continued, chest feeling slightly less heavy as he vented to his quiet companion.

"I just wish ... that we were given more value, you know? We're not robots. We're people. And sometimes, we ... I can't get all my tasks done. I just wanted ... some understanding. That's all."

Yoshinari realized just how petulant he sounded the more he spoke. His voice trailed off, and he avoided the other man's gaze. What must Nanami think of someone like him? Did he pity him? Was he annoyed by him and his complaining? Was he indifferent, like everyone else? It was hard to tell.

Nanami never lost his composure, never expressed strong emotion, never seemed anything other than cool and detached. He must think that someone like Yoshinari was worthy of pity and contempt. Nothing more.

Without waiting for Nanami's reply, Yoshinari turned and made his way to the elevators, trying to focus on the client briefing lined up (and not the humiliation and reprimands he'd have to endure later.)

The humiliation never came, though. Walking into the meeting that afternoon, Yoshinari was met with the huffy, slightly startled demeanor of the team leader when he was complimented on his 'sterling work', handed a steaming cup of coffee and patted on the back. He sat through the rest of the meeting in a daze, mind still struggling to grapple with what had occurred.

When he got a chance, he snuck a look at the analysis that supposedly came from him. There, in the phrasing, the layout, the orderly sequences of figures and the in-depth breakdown of each element, he recognises the hand of Nanami Kento.

When the meeting was over, he tried to find Nanami, to thank him for that unexpected favour. A part of him was beginning to take the assistance with a pinch of salt; what did Nanami expect in return for this?

When he eventually spied Nanami, he paused, the report crumpling slightly in his hand. Coat draped over his chair, tie cast over one shoulder, sleeves rolled up and chair reclining, Nanami's hollowed eyes and sharply-defined cheekbones were covered with a white handkerchief, the marks of exhaustion clear in his bearing.

Many years later, watching his grandchildren chase each other around the darkened trunk of a plum tree, a soft, secret smile finds its home on Yoshinari's face as he remembers that day. He glances up at the delicate blossoms, pushing their heads insistently into the fresh bite of a new spring day and wonders if Nanami ever had grandchildren of his own.

Warmth. Kinship. Command.

When Master calls me out, I recognise the tug and relentless pull into another place. This place. This world of scent and colour and sound, where I am given form.

My Master's hands smell of paper, freshly cut apples and grass. They are firm and familiar as their fingers run through my fur. Sometimes, Master brings us out of the other place without urgency, simply to keep us at his side.

Megumi.

That is my Master's given name. He is dark in spirit, light of foot, and his mouth seldom curves, like the other humans. But when we are all together, pack, bodies curled up and sharing warmth, Master's eyes are like a distant lamp, flickering softly.

The white-veined one names my Master as Megumi. He is the one with power like a great summer storm, sweeping with acrid sharpness across the senses and scorching the unseen world in his wake. His hair is white too, his spirit leaping from one focus to the next, lightning and laughter.

The white-veined one is trustworthy. He is pack, but even though Master trusts him completely, he makes others nervous.

And then, there is the Blademaster. This one is almost familiar. He is like Master in many ways. He smells of good food, old leather and the sharp tang of polished metal. His power is an underground river, swift and subtle, rising to a well-controlled roar when he calls upon it.

The Blademaster avoids pack. He likes to sit alone on the benches at sunset, sometimes, with his food in an oval box at his side. He stares a lot into the sky. Only he knows what he sees there.

The sky doesn't hold much interest for me, but the smells from the Blademaster's box always call for attention. He has meat in there. And cheese. Sometimes, if I press my nose into his hand, he shares his food. It is good food. It tastes better when he offers it out of his own palm.

The Blademaster's hand is bigger, rougher around the fingers than Master's. He is an experienced warrior, and he has been in many fights. The scent of it is on him, in ways that cannot be disguised. He carries the smell of old wounds, of battles that etched away at the parts of him than leave no visible scars.

Sometimes, his pain is great. Those times, he needs pack, even if he doesn't know it. I find him, at his bench. Even though he has no food, I sit with him. His fingers in my fur are different, but warm, like Master's.

We watch the sky together.

It's the bustle of the lunch rush that brings him suddenly into her mind; tall, broad-shouldered, imposing in his dark, pinstripe suit. She's seen many, many salarymen enter her establishment over the years, but none quite like him.

He'd seemed hard, humourless, exacting, a man of substance and character, whittled away bit by bit by the hundred inconveniences and troubles of everyday life. Her attempts to cheer him up always fell flat. Her jokes landed like stale bread on a food critic's plate.

"Hey, Nanami! Good to see you! Decided to loaf around on your lunch break again?"

"How am I loafing?"

"Ah, that was just a pun. You know. Because you come here to buy sandwiches."

"Do you charge extra for the puns? Because I'm not paying for that."

"Wow. So cold ... "

And on another occasion:

"Hey Nanami! Knock knock."

" ... "

"You're supposed to say 'who's there?'"

"Who's there."

"As a question, not a statement!"

"Does it matter?"

"Fine. It's doughnut."

"Doughnut who?"

"Dough nut enter the shop without checking out the specials!"

"Please just give me the sandwich."

Ah, those were good times. Maybe he did appreciate her silly attempts at humour on some level. She'd never know.

Sometimes, she wonders if she shouldn't have asked him for help. Maybe she should have just kept her mouth shut about that pesky stiffness and pain in her shoulder joint. There was no way she could have known what would happen next.

She recalls, with perfect clarity, the sudden change in his demeanour. The subtle straightening of his posture, the focus of that intense honey-brown stare, the way he'd looked at and past her, as if glancing through some secret window into an unknown she could never fathom. And then, he'd raised his arm, swung it in that swift, decisive motion, and her pain disappeared in a matter of seconds.

She still wonders how exactly he'd accomplished that. Was he a spiritual healer of some kind? She couldn't think of an occupation less suited to someone like him. All the same, she was thankful. She'd even packed a free almond croissant and coffee with his sandwich the next day, kept aside for the lunch rush.

Except, he'd never shown up. Not that day, or the next, or the day after that. Nanami simply disappeared from the normal routine of his life altogether.

Of course, she made some enqueries. She was somewhat concerned, considering how sudden his absence had been. What if he'd overworked himself enough to end up in hospital? It wasn't unheard of.

His work colleagues, some of whom also frequented the bakery, told her that he'd suddenly up and left. Handed in his resignation and promptly disappeared.

She'd never heard from him, ever again. It wasn't that she was upset or offended. Customers changed their whims daily. But with him ... something about it concerned her. What would prompt a creature of habit, like Nanami, to suddenly change his routine? There was probably a perfectly sound explanation for it, but it worried her all the same.

After all these years, even now, as manager of her own small dessert shop, not far from the original bakery she'd served at, she'd never taken the casse-croûte off the menu.

It would remain there, for the day he might come through the door once again, and she'd say it, just like she'd rehearsed in her mind so many times.

"Welcome back, Nanami. The usual?"

Pain. This is all that she thinks, all that she feels. It is all-consuming. It isn't like the time she broke her finger after a particularly bad fall when she was ten years old. Not even like the wound left when her mother died; gaping, raw around the edges, on display for all that looked her way.

This pain was, somehow, even worse than that. Pain that twisted and tore through the fabric of her, agony piled on agony, neverending. It stretched beyond her, into a night of unknown horrors that she had no means of comprehending.

Something was very, very wrong with her body. This much she could tell, even as she wove in and out of consciousness. The sense of change to her own form, of being maimed in some fundamental sense, was so strong that she wondered how she was still alive.

His hands. So cold. Pain beyond imagining. She doesn't want to enter that forbidden entryway in her thoughts. Someone did this to her. Someone made her helpless, controlled her. Turned her into this grotesque travesty of a living thing. She should feel furious, that this had been done to her. But she doesn't have the capacity for anything but pleading, begging for a swift release from this torment.

Something is shifting around her now. She cannot even brace for the agony, because there are no known muscles for her to do so. Her body feels like a shapeless, amorphous mass that changes according to the unknown puppeteer's will.

Now, she feels the brush of fetid air on her flesh, the dank, mossy wall of some subterranean feature, a dizzying sense of being propelled at high speed through a narrow space.

Someone is moving alongside her, dodging, weaving. Not the puppeteer. Another. Their movements are swift, strong, filled with a measured grace that dances around her striking, flailing limbs (if they can still be called such) with dexterity. She tries to fight back against the overpowering will, to stop any harm coming to that person. It is futile.

Another shift, her body stretched in another direction. And - oh! Air! Damp and rank in scent, something like a sewer, but never more welcome. Her senses had been cloaked, due to the current nature of her body, but now, she was aware of eyes, ears, nose, a budding mouth that opened in a soundless cry for help.

He heard her.

He was standing over her, feet braced on her alien form. A man in dark glasses and a suit, a strangely patterned sword at his side. The sensation of the strangely blunt blade cleaving her flesh as she hurtles at him is weighted, some kind of energy behind it.

He can cause damage to her in this form! He can ...

But her mouth doesn't work the way it's supposed to. She can't beg him, can't plead with him to end this abysmal existence that only serves as torture. The terror, anger, frustration and hopelessness have no channel by which to reach the outside world any longer.

No! Please! Help me!

Wrung from dregs of her despair, a single tear forms at the corner of her existing eye, rolling down the distended, distorted skin.

Is this it? Is this all she can summon?

But he sees it. His hand is reaching down, towards where she lies, helpless beneath his feet, helpless to the whim of another. His thumb is warm, so warm, as he strokes beneath her eye, dashing away the trace of the tear.

In the moments that follow, before her consciousness finally descends into blessed, blessed darkness, she memorizes the feel of that touch, the last thing on this earthly plane that she'll ever know.

For all her suffering, let it never be said that she hasn't known true kindness.

Gojo and Namamin. Side by side, they're day and night. Yuuji can see that, and often delights in it. He thinks about it now, as he brushes his teeth, one hand carding absently through the tangles in his hair.

Gojo operated on a certain wavelength Yuuji had been attuned to since the very beginning. Nanamin, less so.

When Yuuji really thinks about it, it reminds him somewhat of the recipes his grandfather taught him. Gramps's house was one run on self-sufficiency. There was never an excuse for slacking off.

Gojo was like the spicy miso ramen he'd learned to make, the one with the specially crafted chilli oil and the perfect ramen egg for topping. A wash of heat, scorching the tongue and throat, a burst of flavour that somehow lingered long after it had rushed past your teeth like a flashflood. It entertained, it sustained, it left you feeling warm and energized.

Nanamin was like bread.

Now, Yuuji wasn't crazy about bread. He was more of a rice-bowl kinda guy. But the baking of bread was something he'd never quite managed to get the hang of, to begin with. His grandfather eyeballed ingredients, kneaded with rapid, dexterous fists, added an extra pinch of salt here, or a splash of milk there, depending on the type and texture of bread he wanted. It was as if Gramps could envision an end product that Yuuji had no concept of at all.

Namamin had been just as difficult to gauge in the mixing bowl of Yuuji's experience. Practical, rule-following, collected and proper. Spontaneity could take a hike, as far as Nanamin was concerned. Not the kind of man to pretend to be dead and then hop out of a box when you least expect it.

Ha. Anyway.

Bread. That's the analogy he was going with, and the one he was finding increasingly appropriate.

Pulling on his uniform jacket, Yuuji felt the familiar tug and rumble of hunger ascend from his stomach. He tied the laces on his signature red sneakers and grabbed his backpack, heading for the Tech cafeteria for breakfast.

Thinking over it further, bread was ... a staple. It was not to everyone's taste. It was simple, filling, a great companion piece for more flavourful ingredients. And hellishly difficult to bake correctly. For Yuuji, at least.

Yeah. Bread. It was a good comparison.

Turning the corner, Yuuji nearly ran right into the current occupant of his thoughts.

"Ah ... Nanamin! You're here early today!"

"Good morning, Yuuji. Please be careful. I have a cup of hot coffee here."

Falling into step beside the stoic sorcerer (uninvited) Yuuji decided to share some of his thoughts, an uncharacteristically serious expression adorning his face.

"Nanamin, there's something I've been thinking about."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. If I had to compare you to a food, it'd be bread."

A silence meets this statement. Nanami takes a sip of his coffee. Undeterred, Yuuji continues.

"Like, I love a good katsudon, but when it's midnight and I've been training hard, and I wake up all tired and my body's all sore ... I just go make a sandwich, ya know? Even when Gramps was in hospital and I used to get back from school, and oh, yeah, I sometimes forgot to buy groceries ... there was still bread. Just a loaf, there on the counter. And it didn't matter if there were no other ingredients to cook with, or anything, because you can't go wrong with a fried egg on some fresh, crispy toast. Ahh, yeah. The best."

Nanami adjusted his glasses slightly.

"Itadori ... is this your way of informing me that you find me reliable?"

"Huh? Oh ... I mean, yeah. But that's not all."

"It isn't?"

"Nah. 'Cos I baked bread with my Gramps, see? And it was hard to get right. But I did, at some point. And it felt ... great. And I never got it wrong again. And Gramps is gone now, I know. But when I miss him, kinda, baking bread helps me remember what it was like having him around."

Having said his piece, Yuuji folded his arms behind his head, marching peaceably alongside Nanami, lightly humming the theme song to the latest show he'd been watching. Nanami was now looking down, into his coffee. He didn't take another sip. His voice, when he spoke, was quieter than usual.

"I like sandwiches. Trying different fillings is something of a hobby of mine."

Yuuji nods, a light grin forming on his face.

"I can tell."

"Having said that ... I'm partial to fried chicken and beer on a Tuesday afternoon. It ... reminds me of when I was younger."

"Whoa. For real?"

"Yes."

"But Nanamin ... isn't fried chicken and beer the kind of thing you share with others?"

"It is."

"Hmmm."

Yuuji appears to give this some serious thought, before slapping his fist into his palm as an epiphany strikes.

"But wait! Let's get it together next time! I won't drink the beer, don't worry. I can get a soda or something."

"What - "

"And we can order the MegaBox deal that also comes with a medium pizza and cheese croquettes!"

"Yuuji - "

"Oooh, I'm so excited! I wonder what their pizza base is like? But hey, Nanamin, I've gotta run ahead. Maki-senpai's training with me today and she'll kick my ass if I'm late. See ya on Tuesday!"

All thoughts of bread firmly shelved for the present, Yuuji trotted further up the corridor and through the sliding doors of the cafeteria, pausing to wave at Nanami as he left his line of vision.

Yuuji doesn't get to see the small smile that temporarily eases the harsh lines of the sorcerer's face. It is fleeting, gentle, an echo of a smile he'd worn for another, long ago.

Dividers by: @sister-lucifer

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a-whisper-in-the-forest · 4 months ago

Text

Maybe

Part 1 (coffees and tips)

Part 2 (somebody I care about)

Civilian turns into the next aisle of their local supermarket. They got milk, eggs, something to eat for tonight…snacks. They need snacks. Some candy would be nice. Oh, no, popcorn. Yes, popcorn to eat with a movie. Tonight is going to be a good night. Their shift went well and they got a ton of tips, their toast didn't burn this morning and they haven't lost a single thing. Today was a good day. Only, Villain hadn't passed by the shop today, or yesterday, or the day before that. Maybe the fight with Superhero scared them off a bit? The coffeeshop is supposed to be a safe place for villains and a superhero that just bursts in is kind of contradicting. They really hope they can see them tomorrow, work hasn't been the same.

They turn into the other aisle and see a surprising figure ahead. They are dressed in some sweatpants and a hoodie, hair a little messed up but in a cute way and holding a shopping basket. Civilian’s heart makes a little jump. “Hi, Villain. Didn't expect you here,” Civilian says excitedly. Was that too much? Villain looks up a little surprised but then pulls their lips into a smile. “Hi,” they answer while putting a frozen pizza in their basket. “I normaly don’t come here, but I didn't have anything to eat so… deepfreeze chemical shit it is.” Civilian can't help but chuckle. “Don't you have henchmen that can cook for you?” Villain grabs another pizza. “Technically yes, but after three days of planning and scheming we could all use a break.”

“Oh,” Civilian answers, “that's why you didn't show up.” Villain’s smile turned into a smirk. “What? Missed me?” they ask stepping forward. “Maybe,” Civilian answers, not backing away. Villain hums in agreement and corners Civilian against the freezer door. “I might have missed you too, honestly,” Civilian feels that funny feeling in their stomach flare up again. Was it them or was the room getting hotter? “Really?” they whisper. They are so close together right now, they could practically taste Villain’s lips. Villain leans in even closer and whispers in their ear. “Every minute. I couldn't even focus on my plans, that's why it took so long.” Civilian’s breath hitches and they feel a blush creep up their neck. Villain lets out a soft, but deep chuckle. “Oh, dear, so easily flushed. I wonder…” Before Civilian could do anything, they felt a soft peck on their cheek. They turned as red as the tomato in their cart. Villain was still smirking and let out a satisfied hum. “I should stop there though, before you turn into a puddle.” Civilian didn't want them to stop, they wanted them to keep going. “Please, no, keep going.”

Villain’s smirl grew into a full smile. “That sounded pretty, but that's not for here. How about you go home and I drop off these pizzas to my gremlins that are apparently my henchmen. I'll come to your place later and you can ask me those nice questions again.” Civilian nods but they preferred the Villain coming straight home with them. As if Villain could read their mind they answered: “As I said, my henchmen are like gremlins and it's nearing midnight. Believe me, it’s only chaos that ensues.” Civilian just hoped they won't have to wait too long. “Will you hurry?” Civilian asked. Villain's cocked their head to the side. “Maybe.”

Villain obviously paid Civilian’s groceries.

Hi! This was the obvious poll winner so here it is! It's my first time writing something like this so go easy on me. As always I hope you enjoyed!

My are open if you want to ask me anything! (A snippet, a question, share a thought,... Anything!)

#hero x villain #heroes and villains #snippet #villain x hero #my writing #writing #writeblr #villain x civilian

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lunalockley · 2 years ago

Text

The Limo Driver (part two)

Jake Lockley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT. Like, a lot. Can Jake on his knees count as a warning?

Summary: It's night, it's raining and reader just wants to sleep, until she doesn't anymore.

Words: 7700+

Notes: Sooooo, I'm sorry, it took me a little longer than planned but here it is, I really hope you like it. And thank you all so much for your comments, always brighten my day.

Specially dedicated to my dearest moon emoji anon who made me feel really good about this one <3

Masterlist

gif credit

So… you’ve been thinking about it. Well, you can’t stop. Of course you can’t. He kissed you once and you spent six months half in lov—Ok, no. Wait, what? No. Half hooked up on him you mean. Three-quarters stupid. Completely insane. But not half in that. No.

Uh, whatever. It’s only been a day, a couple of hours. It’s way too recent. So it’s normal for your mind to keep on spinning the matter. And the eyes, and the voice, and the fingers. It’s driving you crazy, to be honest. The feel of them on your throat, on your hips, on your mouth… inside of you. You barely slept last night, your mind keeps taking you back through every fucking second of it without even trying. And then you can almost hear his voice calling you preciosa in that way he does and everything starts to heat up. That good, nice heat that’s so easy to get lost on.

But there’s also the bad one. The focalized heat that sets upon your chest like a weight is pressing down on you, making breathing a little bit harder. That’s the one you felt when you walked out last night. And you’ve been feeling it every time you think about what you said, and what he didn’t. That’s the part you’re trying to avoid. Yet it comes to mind anyways. It’s pretty fucking unfair.

And it’s pretty fucking ridiculous too because how come that after all that has happened, all the time you two have shared, all the things he has done you still can’t… figure him out? It doesn’t make any sense. How does someone that’s so incredibly hermetic make you feel you can read him just by looking him in the eyes when you actually don’t know anything about him at all? Does he do it on purpose? Is it a calculated move or is he somehow unable to—

—And you’re doing it again. Thinking about it non-stop. You called in sick needing a night away from the restaurant, from Jake’s stupid chair and that stupid bathroom that has been giving you palpitations just by the thought of going in and this is how you spend it. You had planned to cook a nice dinner, watch a movie, water your barely-alive plants, do a beginner's yoga class on Youtube, and maybe even finish reading that book that has been dusting on your nightstand. But no, here you are. Already in pajamas, all you’ve done (besides eating yesterday’s leftovers) is sit on the couch contemplating how time passes with the rain and Viejita’s soft meowing in the background. Is procrastination the root of all your problems? Maybe it is.

Or maybe it’s just time to get up and do what you do best: sleep. Give your body the rest your mind refuses to get. You impulse yourself out of the couch to go and take Viejita with you. Cuddling with her makes it all better. No more stupid Jake thinking. You let your ear guide you, she’s right next to the window. She had never complained about the rain before and as she feels you getting closer she even starts scratching the glass.

“Hey, baby, It’s just a little rain,” you mutter, petting her and trying to calm her down until you rest your eyes on what she is staring at down the street.

What the f—He can’t just—There’s no fucking way.

You’re not sure. You just live on the third floor but it’s dark outside. The street light barely lights anything at all. And the rain makes it even harder to see. Yet the outline of the limousine is clearly visible, and so is the figure leaning against it. But it can’t be. You’ve always thought Jake is unusual in every little thing he does but this? He wouldn’t be crazy enough to be waiting under the rain without a fucking umbrella and without even ringing the bell to your apartment, just expecting somehow you knew he would be there, right? That would be insane. It must be a weird coincidence. Some other limo driver who's waiting for someone else here… in this neighborhood? Weird, yet not impossible.

But then he looks up straight at your window and your heart jumps inside your chest as you instinctively hurry back into the shadows, where he can’t see you.

Fuck, it is him.

What the fuck? He knows your apartment is on the third floor, you’ve told him. You’ve told him the number. You’ve told him everything, for fuck’s sake. It's not like you want him to come up to your house knocking on the door in the middle of the night but what is he doing? At this point, you’re sure he purposefully finds the way to do the least expected, most incomprehensible thing in every fucking little thing he does. It must be his life’s motto: “No matter what, always find a way to stress the shit out of the people in my life”.

He’s an idiot, there’s no doubt of it. The thing is: are you an idiot? Well, yeah. You just saw him outside your place and your heart is already a beat away from a fucking heart attack. But you should try not to be an idiot anymore. You shouldn't go down. Make it clear you said it’s over for good. He definitely saw you, he would get it, and then… and then he would leave. Forever. Yeah, that’s what you should do.

But… goodbyes are a good thing too, right?

Closure and all that stuff. Talk things out, even if it sounds unlikely with someone like Jake. You can give it a chance. A… friendly goodbye. Ok, yeah. Sounds good. And it is the right thing in this type of situation, grown-up shit. A goodbye, that’s all.

You take one last look at the street just in case you’ve lost your mind and you’ve imagined the whole thing, but he’s still right there. Arms crossed, leaning against the limo and probably soaking fuking wet.

“Your dad’s an idiot, Viejita,” you say to the little black beast before taking her in your arms to leave her on her favorite cushion on the sofa. She settles down, pleased and exhausted as if she's accomplished a hard job.

You grab your keys next to the mirror at the entrance.

Just a goodbye.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

The bone-chilling air hits you as soon as you step out of the building but seeing him is what makes you stop dead in your tracks for a second. You couldn’t see it up from your floor but he’s wearing his usual type of clothes, not the casual ones that somehow felt so out of place on him yesterday. Now the familiarity of the white shirt, the jacket, and the hat gives you a naive sense of comfort you try to dismiss away. As if this one were more of your Jake than it was yesterday. Stupid, he’s not more of anything and it’s just clothes.

A white shirt, a jacket, and a hat that are drenched, by the way. Which reminds you—

“What the fuck are you doing in the rain? Are you insane?”

Instead of answering he just looks at you and opens the limo’s door. Silently asking you to get in.

Ok, well…. you didn't think this through. You only thought about coming down, not actually getting into his car. But, you guess… there’s no other option. You came here to say your friendly goodbye, after all. Can’t do it in the rain, just like that. And a veil of water drops is already setting in your clothes, you can feel some of the fabric clanging into your body. Another thing you didn’t think through is the worn-out sweatpants you came out with, the old shirt that has somehow become a pajama shirt, and your lack of a bra underneath.

Fuck it.

When you slide into the car you notice how spacious the limousine is yet it surprises you how it does not seem to be room for many people. There are only two rows of red leather seats facing each other. So much space for so few passengers. In order to be more private and luxurious, you guess. It makes you think about the people he drives for. Might he be just as serious and inaccessible as you’ve seen him be with basically everyone else? Or might he show his weird uncharismatic charisma as he has done with you? The latter doesn’t sound so good, for some reason.

You stop nosing around when you feel him sitting next to you a little bit closer than the spacious seat needs. You were right. He's drenched and most likely ruining the luxurious leather of the luxurious car, but he doesn't seem to care as he turns his whole body and attention towards you.

“Is it every day or once every six months with you? No in-betweens?” You blurt out, cornered by the closeness of his body.

Fuck, friendly goodbye. Friendly.

“Sorry. I take that back,” you mumble, thinking your next words before you pronounce them this time. “Why didn’t you ring the bell to my apartment?”

“It’s late. I saw the lights on but thought you might have fallen asleep. Didn’t want to disturb you. You work too much, preciosa,” he answers calmly, his voice softer than you ever heard before. Not in a submissive way but in a disarmingly appeasing tone as if he had come here disarmed, without any shields. Exactly the opposite of how you feel right now. You move back in the seat trying to get as far as you can get in the restricted space. Soft raspy melting voices shouldn’t cause claustrophobia.

“And if I had been sleeping what would you have done? Wait till I wake up tomorrow?” You throw it out half as a joke, but immediately you realize—

He doesn’t even have to answer to know that’s the truth. He had come here to see you and wouldn’t have left until he did.

“Do you always get what you want? Is that how things work for you?”

“If things worked out for me this wouldn’t be the first time I see you outside work,” he says replies, lifting his hat and running a hand through his hair. And to your disbelief, he puts it back with a sigh like he didn't even realize the damn thing is soaking fucking wet just like the rest of his clothes are. He should take it all off before he catches a cold. Ha, go on. Keep thinking of him without his clothes on. Good idea. “Speaking of which, you know what am I thinking?”

“Are you kidding me?” You snort, turning towards him, as shocked by your train of thought as by the audacity of his question. “I never know what you’re thinking,” you whisper, taken aback by the fact that he still doesn’t understand how little you understand him. At all. That’s the whole point here.

“That’s weird, I’ve always felt you can see right through me,” he mutters, frowning at you as if you had any fault in that absurd idea. Stupid Jake. His voice sounds sincere but you chose not to even give it a second thought, can’t allow yourself that right now. Not with the purpose you came here for.

So you cross your arms and frown back at him, refusing to answer anything at all. But he mirrors you, crossing his arms and resting his back against the seat.

God, this is so stupid. You’re so mad at him but can’t help smiling when the stare competition last a little too long. It’s infuriating. And so ridiculous. You came here to say goodbye, why are you smiling?

“What are you thinking?” You ask, defeated.

A crooked smile forms on his lips in victory, but he quickly brushes away with his thumb.

“I’m thinking you look pretty fucking good here like this,” he says taking a look at your body, his eyes somehow soft and dark on equal parts. You try to ignore the effect his tone produces under your skin.

“In pajamas on your limousine?”

“Yeah, it’s a sight,” he breathes lowly, uncrossing his arms and getting a little bit closer. You can’t take it.

“Stop—don't do that, please.”

He waits for you to continue.

“That thing you do,” you explain reluctantly. “You make it sound like you’re joking but it feels like you are telling the truth. It’s confusing. Tell me what you are really thinking for once.”

“I’m telling you in every way I know.”

The words are out of his mouth like a caress and the way he’s—No, no, no. Focus. He’s flirting his way out. Get to the point.

“So? Did you come here to say goodbye?”

“Why would I say goodbye?” He retorts like you had asked him the most bizarre question possible.

“Because we are not seeing each other again, I told you it’s over.”

“Oh, it’s over? So what are you doing here?”

“Would you have left if I didn’t come down? I’m saving you from pneumonia. You’re welcome.”

He shakes his head, a reproachful gleam in his eyes but then he exhales and lets it go. He looks out the window for a moment and then back at you. Outside, the rain pounds harder.

“I came to say that I’m… I’m sorry”

“Oh, that’s a first. What for?”

You cross your legs and he follows the movement. Then he shifts in his seat once more, trying to find comfort.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t—That I left without saying anything—I… I just disappeared. I’m sorry. I understand why you’re angry. If it had been you I would’ve—I’m sorry.”

He’s struggling so much one would think this is the first time he apologizes for something in his life. It cracks your walls a little bit, but still—

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I just had to go and then I couldn’t come back.”

“How so?”

“I… I’m not able to control my time as I used to, just when is necessary.”

Oh. You weren’t important enough to come and let you know he was going to disappear for six fucking months.

“Yeah I get that, you didn’t need to be here,” you grunt moving to get out of the car but he moves from his seat, catching your hand before you even get to touch the handle.

“Let me go, you asshole!”

You try to push him back but in half a second he’s resting his knees on the floor as his hands take yours on a soft grip at each side of your hips. He’s caging you between his body and the seat. And even when your body keeps attempting to get out of the car, the intense heat that radiates out of his body makes you wonder how his wet clothes aren’t fucking steaming.

“Wait, wait—hey, wait, stop,” he says soothingly, his voice not a bit altered by the force with which you are trying to push him. His left-hand find that soft spot on the side of your neck, drawing your attention to his dark eyes. You lose a little bit of your strength. “Listen to me. You’re angry, I know. Take it out on me. You’ll feel better.”

What?

Your heartbeat buzzes in your ears and you feel a little lightheaded. This is the first time he’s looking up to you instead of the other way around. Maybe that's what causes that slight desperate effect in his deep brown eyes, the look that the last speaker of an extinguished language would have. Condemned to never truly communicate with anyone else. And the way he looks kneeled in front of you, surrounded, as if he would let you do anything to him right now. Take it out on me, he said. Is he expecting you to hit him or something?

“That’s not how things work, Jake. I’m not gonna turn you into my… human stress relief ball. You just told me you don’t need this. And I wanna make that call too. So, that’s it. You’re an idiot but we’re good. Now move and let me go. It’s ok, it’s over just like I–”

“No, it’s not. Stop that,” he says all frown and serious, and then a little softer. “And that’s not what I meant. But let me apologize. I wanna make you feel good, baby. Then the rest. Let me have you happy and relaxed first.”

“What?—That’s n-not—We should talk”

“Oh, so you came here to talk not to say goodbye?”

“Are you serious?”

“Sorry,” he says in an innocent tone like he regrets it but he's actually smiling, the widest smile you've ever seen on him yet. A happy smile. The desperate glimmer turned into triumph. He knows you just gave in, he knows he’s won this one. God, you hate him. Stupid Jake.

“Don’t—” take off my slipper, you try to say. But he’s already taking the other one. You really didn’t think about your outfit at all before walking out of your apartment tonight. Whatever. Focus. “What did you mean then, explain it to me. You gotta give me something here because I don’t want to do this anymore, Jake. Not like this.”

He holds your eyes for a moment and then he leans forward, resting his forehead against your knee. One hand slowly making his way up over your calve, the other rolling up the fabric to expose the skin. It takes him a minute to speak again.

“I… I don’t have control over—I don’t really have a—I just do what needs to be done. That’s the purpose of me. That’s all I do. I prevent things from happening and if they happen I resolve them. I… survive, I guess. And this is how it’s been for as long as I can remember. It’s ok—it was, it was ok. It was until one night instead of going to a shitty bar like I always do I decide for some fucking reason to go into that damn 24/7 breakfast and you happened. I didn’t like it, at first, because I knew right there that it wasn’t going to be enough. I already wanted more. I tried to stop it but I kept going and going. You were always there. Lighting things up. Of course, I kept wanting more. It’s never enough”.

While he was speaking his fingertips were gently caressing your calf, his cheek word by word tracing the side of your leg, seeking the reassurance feeling of skin against skin but as soon as the last sentence is pronounced his mouth starts giving open mouth kisses to every inch of uncovered skin it finds on its way and you’re scared your heart may stop working it all. It’s the feel of his tongue in that sensitive spot in the back of your knee, his left hand slowly exploring the length of your thigh but mostly his words and that impenetrable wall finally beginning to break down.

You weren’t expecting this. You thought he was going to come up with a half-true half-joke excuse that you were going to resist not believing in. And then get the courage to walk away just like you had planned. But this is different. You know this is different. You know he meant it. You know for the way he was so evidently struggling to find the right words, the hoarseness on every one of them as if his body were still trying to keep them locked deep inside. This is him. This is what you’ve been asking for. But still—

“The thing is you’re changing things for me, preciosa. I know I’m not made for this. I’m fucked up, I am. I’m not good. And on top of that, there’s not much I can offer you. I’ve nothing. And I can’t even take care of a damn cat without having it all fall over. I’m not even close to being good enough for you. You deserve better, you do—but I’m still here… if you want me. And even if you don’t, I would still be here, waiting.”

It’s raining properly now, hammering on the roof of the limousine. The furious rhythm of hundreds of drops almost synchronized with the rapid beat of your heart. His thumb hooked over the waistband of your pants, slowly pulling until your hip is exposed. Your breath caught in your throat.

“You deserve better but I’m selfish now. If anything is your fault, you turned me into this. I want you for my own,” he mutters, leaning in to kiss the skin of your lower stomach. You can’t help but gasp at the contact, he’s barely touched you and you already can feel the wetness dripping out of you. “Will you let me have you?”

He’s looking you straight into your eyes now, he hadn’t done it since he started speaking, and you can see how much he just gave you. You’ve learned to know him, somehow. Not in the way one learns to read deciphering signs on a page but in the way our eyes become accustomed to darkness after some time. Groping and stumbling you’ve learned some parts of him, his outline. That’s how you know he’s asking for way more than he’s letting on. You have the feeling that saying yes to him involves a lot more than saying yes to somebody else. The feeling that whatever it is he’s asking from you might consume you and leave you heartbroken afterward. But that’s not the hold-up.

The thing is, you want more, you want to see him in full light. You want him for your own too. But you need to understand him. Fully. You won't give yourself up without having him first.

“You want me to beg? I’ll beg if you want me to, but then I’ll be the one taking it out on you later,” he threats when you don’t answer for a while, all teasing voice and mischief glimmer, he’s back to the playful Jake you know so well. A little too long of silence and his defenses go up again.

You don’t think he’ll keep spilling truths voluntarily but now that you’ve heard some of them you want more. You’ve become addicted. You need more. But how?

And how are you supposed to think while he keeps playing with the waistband of your pants? Fuck, unless—He just acted on your terms, revealing himself just like you’ve asked him to. Now is your turn. You probably will get immediately caught up on it, but you can try.

You need to play it his way then.

He sees the change on your face and a spellbound gleam forms in his eyes.

“Show me how it would feel,” you whisper and you don’t need to say it twice.

As soon as the words are out of your mouth the sweatpants are out of your legs. Once he has you only in your t-shirt and your panties he leans back a little bit observing you from head to toe, lingering his eyes on yours, on the contour of your hardened nipples and the wet patch of your panties, as if he wanted to burn the image in his memory, the pervert. Well, you can’t judge, you are the same. Admiring how the white wet shirt clings to his torso, wrapping him like hard candy. You may as well lick him—fuck, focus. Focus.

When he starts to slowly take off your panties you manage to find your voice again.

“I can’t believe I’m letting you undress me on the street.”

“You’re letting me undress you in my car, it’s hot. And its got tinted glasses, and it’s dark outside and you’re with me, bonita,” he answers absently, focused on the delicate movement of the silky material as it slides down your legs. You can't mock him at the implication that you're safe with him though, you know it's true. You’ve felt it from the first day.

Once your panties reach your ankles he carefully removes them to put them in the pocket of his pants. Again, pervert. You ignore the need to clench your thighs together at the gesture and decide to tease him about it. He deserves it. And it’s what has worked the best so far. Pushing his buttons it’s what had you moaning in the fucking bathroom of your workplace anyways.

“To remember me?” You ask as innocently as you can.

But he’s done with it. He pins you with his gaze, raising a thick eyebrow at you.

“Why would I need reminding, exactly?”

“Because this is the last time.”

“What did I just say? Stop that. Don’t make me say it again. You know it’s not enough, preciosa. You know it.” His lips back to your legs, his voice still annoyed but so soft you don’t think you hear right: “Will never be.”

For the sake of your own heart, you rather believe you misheard.

He opens your legs a little bit further and then—

“Fuck, baby.” He sounds so wrecked, you feel weak. You were supposed to do something, what was it? “Voy a despertar soñándote por el resto de mi puta vida.”

“That’s not fair, you know I don’t understand. And tell me… tell me more about yourself first, please.”

“There’s not much to tell. And I’d like to do something else with my tongue right now.”

“What’s your favorite movie?”

“I mean, if I could record this right n—”

“Jake.”

“Whichever you’d like to watch with me, bonita.”

“You drive for a living?”

“That’s how I earn some money, yeah. Stop torturing me.”

“But you’re not just a driver, are you?”

“No, I’m not.”

“And is that…dangerous?”

“Not to you. I promise”

“Are you in danger?”

“I’m in danger of dying as a thirsty man here.”

“What’s your last name?”

“Lockley. Come on, baby, don't make me go crazier than I already am.”

“Lockley… Jake Lockley.” That catches his attention back to your mouth for a second. “What’s your favorite hobby?”

“This,” he says sliding you effortlessly to the edge of the seat. You feel his breath near your core and you know you’re losing it. Shit, why were you doing this? Why are you delaying it when you want it so badly? Oh, right, you—

“Jake, wait,” you breathe. “I need more. I need to understand.”

“Then pay attention, preciosa.”

His mouth finds your inner thigh and he’s so close. So close. You won’t hold back anymore. You can’t. Your hand finds his shoulder just to hold onto something but fuck. He’s still in his wet clothes. He can’t stay like this. You gather the little willpower you have left to push him back. You expect some sort of resistance but he moves back with no effort on your part. Take it out on me, is this what he meant?

The way he raises his gaze is enough to set your blood on fire. He looks at you as if he’s about to say fuck it all and push you back to have his way with you mixed with genuine curiosity about what are you going to do next. Submission hanging by a thread.

“Take off your jacket.”

He holds your gaze for a moment and then he does it. Fuck, the power trip you're feeling right now. It feels pretty fucking good having him listening to you like that. More.

“Now your shirt.”

He sighs and begins to unbutton it, somehow amused by how much you're pushing it. Did he just unblock a new kink for you?

Once the shirt is discarded somewhere on the floor of the limo you lean forward to take off his hat. Is soaking wet just like his hair is underneath. And of course, you can’t resist. You take a moment to run a hand through his curls all the way down to his nape until your hand is resting on his shoulder again. He looks so fucking hot like this. You bite the urge to confess it, instead, you lean back and open your legs a little further, an invitation.

“You can go on, now.”

The little smile he’s trying to bite back makes your stomach flutter. You decide to tease him a little bit more.

“I mean, if you don’t want to…” you concede, beginning to close your legs but you barely get to move an inch before he dives right in and—

Fucking heaven.

You loudly gasp at the feeling of the wet heat of his mouth dragging over the folds of your pussy, his groan sending shivers from your core through your whole body. Fuck, it’s too good. It’s too good. When his tongue swirls around your clit your brain short-circuits having at the same the time the urge to push him away and push him impossibly closer. As your hand finds his curls you realize your body has chosen the latter. The movement pleases him, you can feel his smile against you.

“So fucking good,” he mutters, barely pulling back as you feel the movement of his lips with each word. Your hips move forward anyway, chasing the delicious contact.

Fuck, you’re already on the edge. His mouth is giving you everything without holding anything back. Fixed on wreck you from the beginning, desire running through your abdomen.

“Oh, fuck. Jake, I–I’m gonna—”

“Eyes on me, preciosa.” Is all he says but your mind is gone, every cell in your body focused on the sweet hot pleasure that’s rushing to you core. Your head falls back against the seat as the shocks of ecstasy flow through you, your whines chanting his name, your hand holding thigh to his hair, your cunt clenching hard around nothing—his mouth not leaving you for a second, drowning in you.

When your legs twtich a little too much one hand holds your hips down hard into the seat to ensure you keep still but he’s not stopping, he’s—

He’s—

Two long, thick fingers slid in and out of you as Jake’s mouth goes up, focusing on your swollen clit, licking and sucking and his eyes—

Fuck, you can’t. You can’t. You can’t.

His gaze is so deep and strong, melting your fucking bones. You’ve never been seen like that, never.

“Keep your eyes on me or I’ll keep going until you let me see.”

You can’t help but clench at his words, a whine escaping your lips. He feels it.

“Mmm, would you like that?”

It’s too much, too intense. The free fall never stops inside of you. And you can’t even move away from it. You just have to take it the way he wants to.

His tongue swirls, his fingers curl and you completely lose yourself in the pleasure ripping you from the inside. Your sense of gravity changes to where his wet hot mouth keeps taking everything you have to give. His fierce brown eyes the only thing keeping you grounded.

“That’s it. Look at you, so fucking pretty baby,” Jake says in that dark rich voice you love so much, and though he keeps praising you you’re too gone to even hear anymore. All you can do is lay back against the seat of his limo until your heart stops booming in your ears and air reintegrates into your lungs again.

When feeling comes back to your numb body you find one of his hands massaging the back of your neck, the other moving from your collarbone towards that spot that keeps beating strong under his touch. He keeps his warm palm right there in your heart and fuck, he’s still kneeling in front of you, looking at you with Am I forgiven eyes and you know this is not healthy, this is not how things should be, yet all you want to do is to close your own eyes because you know they’re answering him yes, yes you are. Instead, you lower your head to brush your lips into his, an invitation that makes his body go so pliant on you when you grab him and take him up with you, maneuvering him until you’re on his lap and you can finally kiss him like you’ve wanted since the moment you met him.

That first kiss six months ago was tentative and stiff, it felt like he was trying to stop himself but his body wouldn’t respond to his rational wishes, like his mouth was moving against all his fucking will. Yesterday’s kisses were dark and possessive, every movement of his tongue deliberately planned to have you whining at his mercy.

This one is completely different. This time it’s you who’s leading the way. This time it’s you who’s showing him that the despair that’s so evident in the glimmer of his eyes is the same that’s hidden deep down in your chest. And you know, you know, that the moan that sips out of him when you cradle each side of his face and your tongue clashes into his is because he understands what your body is saying to him. He knows.

And it may be minutes or hours, all you’re conscious of is the constant pattering of the rain against the roof of the car, your own taste in his mouth, the way he pushes you closer every time you bite his lower lip, his fingers under your t-shirt caressing the small of your back, tracing your ribs and digging in your hips, the warmth of his skin, the hard muscle underneath, his damp curls when you run your nails through his head, those dark sounds that come out of his throat when you rock against the bulge inside his pants, the slow, steady bone-melting rhythm that completely intoxicates you until you need more, more, more.

And you know he does too.

He takes off your shirt in one swift motion. You feel something icy at the center of your collarbone but you don’t even have time to process it because suddenly your breast is in his hot wet mouth and his teeth are gently nipping the flesh there and then his tongue swirls against your nipple and—

You need—you’re overwhelmed by the need to have him as delirious as he has you right now.

You push him back into the seat and he’s immediately calling you preciosa and complaining but you are already kissing him, shutting him up, and undoing the zipper of his pants. He growls in your mouth when you palm the outline of his cock over his underwear, your walls clench hard in anticipation. And then he shivers when you slowly run your nails throughout his length over the fabric and you know you’re fucked. You will crave this feeling for the rest of your life. The feeling of having Jake Lockley trembling with pleasure underneath you. An instant addiction.

You take his hard cock out and you and you don't even give him time to pull his pants out or take them off before you’re rubbing your slit against his length. Utterly and unashamedly desperate.

“Fuck, baby,” he mutters in your mouth, his tight and raspy voice making you throb in need, his muscles tense under your hands. “Feels soo good, doesn’t it? This is how it will feel like, everything, every fucking time.”

He pushes back a little to look at you. You know he’s talking about what you answered when he asked to have you. Show me how it would feel. You know this is his way to push for an answer. A confirmation that you’re his. But instead of trying to find those words hidden somewhere in your chest you get lost in his deep brown eyes and you realize that all those moments when he looked at you like he wanted to crawl under your skin your eyes must have looked at him just the same way.

“Will you let me have you?” The question leaves your lips this time, yet no words come out of his mouth but a breathless choked sound as if you’ve punched him in the gut. Instead, he just grabs the side of your neck and glares at you with something profound that could be anger or devotion, or maybe both. And then he’s kissing you, his tongue fighting yours, how dare you is saying. A hand on your hip lifts you up enough so that he can line himself up at your entrance and just when you begin to feel that pressure—

“If we are doing this you’re not allowed to leave again without warning, Ok? It’s cruel,” you blurt out without thinking, your helpless heart rising to the surface, exposing itself despite your efforts.

“Ok,” he answers, his voice torn and low, as solemnly as he can with your cunt torturously dripping the length of his cock. You look down, ready to feel him inside but he grabs your chin and makes you look at him again. “And you’re not allowed to say you hate me. Ever again. I mean it. Ok?”

“Or?”

“Or I’ll fuck your pretty little brains out until I have you begging me to stop but I won’t until I’m sure you’ve completely forgotten the damn fucking word. Ok?” He pulls at your hair for emphasis and you have to fight down the moan that threatens to leave your throat with the gesture.

“Ok,” you answer out of breath, obediently.

“Good,” he praises, soothing your scalp with his fingertips. Then, cheeky again. “What am I allowed to?”

“You’re allowed to ring the bell to my apartment, for once.” You laugh but then—

He holds your hips as he slowly begins to slide his cock in, gently and steadily but fuck.

Holy fuck.

You’re so wet there’s barely any resistance bet he’s long and thick and the stretch feels like he’s gonna break you in half. The strong grip of your hands on his shoulders makes him stop before he can go any further.

“You’ll get used to me,” he gasps in your temple. “Fuck, such a tight fucking pussy, baby. But I’ll make you get used to me. All of you.”

“Shut up and just keep going, for fuck’s sake”

“Relax on me, preciosa. I don’t wanna hurt you,” he whispers in your ear, his fingers caressing every inch of skin he can find, his tongue licking the pulse in your neck. “Relax…Mmm, that’s it. Yeah, like that.”

It takes a little. The expert grip on your hips makes you sink into him so, so slowly every inch of him steals a whine out of you but you know it’s driving him fucking crazy too. He’s breathing hard, the muscles in his abdomen jump at the slightest shift of your hips, and a faint film of sweat appears on his neck. It makes you wanna lick him. But you get distracted by how good and how deep it feels and how his hands move from your hips to a playful hold on your throat, until they fall flat on the seat.

“You can go on, now,” he returns your words, a cheeky little grim forming in the corner of his lips as he leans back on the seat. Leaving you to it. Your heart swells at the wrecked and joyful gleam of his eyes.

You try to say something smart and snarky at him but his cock is buried deep inside of you and you can’t think of anything else, to be honest. You lift yourself up and down, tentatively, the burning so good it has so gasping.

“Feels good, baby? Feels so right, doesn’t it? You know why it feels so right, don’t you? You understand it.”

You pick up your pace, oblivious of his words, trying to suppress the hidden emotion behind every roll of your hips. You don’t want to hear those words, you don’t need to. Not now. But he keeps going—

“You have no idea all the times a woke up this,” he breathes, his hands finding your hips again. Unable to stay away for too long. “Preciosa lurking me with her smart mouth and her —fuck— her pretty smile. Letting me punish her for being too good for me.”

He makes you clench hard around him. You can’t help it. It’s his words, the idea.

“Mmm, you’d like that. I’d like that too. I could spank you for every time you wouldn’t leave my fucking head, for distracting me,” he growls grabbing a handful of your ass and squeezing it. “How red would your ass be then, huh?”

His hand goes up to hold your hip again. And now he’s thrusting into you. Reaching places you couldn’t reach yourself, so fucking deep.

“I could edge you to tears for doing this to me.” The pad of his thumb finds your clit and you whine his name in response. The shots of ecstasy are growing fast and intense. You’re gasping, he’s breathing hard. And to your surprise, he keeps talking. “I could have you screaming for—for—”

Before he was forcing himself to get the truth out, struggling to answer your questions with honesty. But now it’s flowing out of him, a little bit of truth with every thrust of his hips. Every word sticking deep into your heart.

“Fuck, I missed you… my whole body felt it even—even when I wasn't myself.”

God, you can’t even process each sensation. And his scent is concentrated in that soft spot on the side of his neck, it makes you dizzy. You’re so out of yourself, so overflowed with sensations and desire, that you only notice you’re running your tongue down the skin of his throat when growls and holds you impossibly closer, just like you wanted.

Is too much. Everything. This is—you’ve never felt anything like this before. Like the whole ground is disappearing under you. All you can do is hold onto Jake, one hand on his shoulder the other on his nape, your face buried in his neck. But he’s asking you something, his voice softer than before.

“Do you understand?”

But you’re too lost on it. You can’t—Your movements start to grow impatient, fast, and erratic. The hot melting pleasure is close once more. But not close enough.

“Preciosa, answer me.”

You keep clinging to him, refusing to do anything but chase the feeling. You’re almost there, almost there, you’re—

You’re suddenly on your back, his body hovering over yours, both of your hands taken behind you, arching you and maintaining you exposed. Making it impossible to hide away. His hand is on the side of your neck, his eyes piercing through you. He’s expecting the same sincerity he has given you tonight. He’s done what you’ve been asking him this whole time—broken down the wall between you two. Why are you so scared to take what was behind it? Because it’ll consume you. It already is. And you know if he disappears again—If he disappears after all this everything it would be so, so much worse. It’s too much risk. It’s all too much. You can’t—

But fuck, he looks so lost in you.

“Tell me, do you understand now?”

At this point, you couldn't lie even if you tried. Your heart is on the surface.

“Yes, yeah. I-I do. Me too, Jake.”

“Fuck, mía.” He groans between desperate kisses on your mouth, then becomes a prayer that escapes from his lips with every needier, sloppier thrust of his hips. “Mía, mía, mía…”

Your whole body tenses under him then the pleasure rips you from the inside, making you scream this time. The hard squeeze of your cunt enough to push him to the edge. He grinds his cock as deep as he can against something that makes you sob and then he’s cumming, hard. You feel his body shuddering above and you want to see every second of it but everything goes blurry.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Somehow, you find yourself on his lap again. Your whole body a dead weight against him. Your head tugged in the curve of his neck. His hands moving up and down along your back.

Your body is tired yet the adrenaline is still running through your veins. You can feel it buzzing somewhere inside, that’s why you are surprised when your voice comes out as a whisper.

“If you disappear again I swear that I—”

“I won’t. I can’t.”

You push back to look into his eyes in search of any sign that may tell otherwise, but you don’t find any.

“I won’t be long gone. I’ll be back soon,” he reassures, running his fingertips from your neck to your collarbone, his lips gently tracing your jawline. “Apenas pude aguantarme esta vez. No soy tan fuerte.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I’ll be back. Ok?”

Suddenly he’s looking into your eyes for some sort of final confirmation that you feel the same way he feels, even if he didn’t confess it with words. And you do. You do, you do, you do, your answer to him. Instead, your mouth says—

“Ok.”

He takes your face in both his hands. His lips brushing yours.

“Mi preciosa.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

A few hours before sunrise, long after the rain has stopped, you enter your apartment. Happy and exhausted, you know you’ll fall asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow. You also know you’ll dream of brown deep eyes and a raspy voice calling you preciosa over and over again.

As you put your keys next to the mirror at the entrance your eyes catch a sparkle on your neck. It’s a silver necklace with a little moon on it. It’s beautiful.

Your head turns to the window, to the moonlight and the limousine below it that you know won't leave until it sees all your lights off.

You had never felt anything like this before, you had never been under the weight of an emotion so strong that there was no way to communicate it with words, you had never been able to understand someone just by looking into their eyes. But then Jake isn’t like anyone you have met before either. And there's nothing you'd do to change that.

You know he will be back.

———————————————

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jazziejax · 6 months ago

Text

Queen Treatment for

The King

Pairings- Art Donaldson x black!OC, Tashi Duncan x black!OC, Patrick Zweig x black!OC

Summary- moments between Dion King and her best friends that adore her

Warnings- slight smut, implied sexual content, sexual tension...

Jazzie Notes!- It’s me writing at 1am again knowing I have somewhere to be tomorrow:)….. sorry for any typos or mistakes, I don't enjoy reading back my own work and I type like a mad man with dyslexia. Also, sorry if this is bad, I’ve beer written smut or sexual content of any kind. Might but ever do it again honestly.

Word Count- 2,724

Part I , Part III

Dion heard the soft click of her door closing from her bed. She sat on her bed in her dorm, reading away at some old and torn biology book that was needed for a class. She was barely paying attention to the words on the thin paper, chipped corners obscuring some words as she sipped away at the honey tea Art brought her before he left.

She never raised her eyes away from the page before her as a weight was placed near her feet at the end of her bed. She knew who it was by the sound of his feet. There was silence within the room as she continued to sip from her mug and fake-read the large book in her lap, feeling his stare. It wasn’t long before she made it to the bottom of her mug, the sound echoing as she slurped up the thick honey that settled at the bottom. When finished, she sat the empty cup on the nightstand beside her and then finally looked up at the boy in front of her who had his eyes on her the entire time.

“Are you just going to fucking sit there or are you gonna say something?” She asked, not sugarcoating anything. Patrick’s face looked the same way it did yesterday, sadness etched in every crevice that only deepened with her words.

“I just wanted to explain myself.” He said somberly. Dion sighed, slamming the book on her lap closed. She then filed her arms and sat up more against the headboard, crossing her legs. “Go on then.” She said disinterestedly.

And she honestly was. Art had filled her in about the situation that caused the oddness between them all last night after her fashion show ended in him giving her the best head. He was so fucked out afterward that he just started spilling everything without Dion even having to ask. Not that she had to, Art thought she needed to know.

So, she sat there waiting. Either to hear the same information or something new.

“The whole reason Tashi and I have been acting so strange is because we argued.” He said, eyes never moving from her trying to gauge a reaction. “About you.”

“I mean, I figured that much Pat.” Dion rolled her eyes.

“But it wasn’t what you would think it would be about.” He started, angling his body in the girl's bed to face her. He left his shoes in Tashi’s room so she was just in a shirt, shorts, and gray socks. “She was angry because she felt like we were getting too close.” Dion’s brows furrowed deeply, eyes briefly igniting with rage. Seeing this, Patrick was quick to interject. “But not like that. Not like we were falling for one another or that you had a thing for me.” Then Dion went from angry to confused. “She was angry at me because she felt like I was taking you from her.” He stated, seeing the question circulating in her eyes. At that, Dion kind of just stared at him, lost in thought over the whole situation.

Dion’s never had a serious boyfriend since she and Tashi have been friends. She barely even talks to guys anymore, let alone think about that much. She had all she could ask for within Tashi. So much so, that she was a little heartbroken when the girl said she wasn’t looking for anything too serious with her. But she kept on a brave face as stuck it out. And it’s not like Tashi was doing anything with anyone else, so that kept her at ease about the whole situation.

So when they met Art and Patrick, they never would have thought things would end up the way they did. Tashi and Patrick were together but she allowed him and Dion to do things if they wanted, which was rare if she wasn’t involved. She honestly only agreed because she knew she wouldn’t be dropping Dion any time soon. The girl was like a drug to her.

Art and Dion were pretty official, at least to the people around campus, so they did things all the time. They were the same. They had the same favorite color, the same habits, same taste in music and books. They even served sort of similar. Being around him brought a light into her heart that she didn’t know she needed. And Art depended on her presence more than he’d like to admit. Sometimes just spends time in her dorm to live like a married couple. Being around Dion made him almost forget about his jealousy of Tashi and Patrick.

Almost.

But Dion and Patrick, their relationship was more than just physical. He was like a male Tashi. He was confident and sure of himself. She was lewd and loud, Dion found it endearing. He made her laugh. He taught her things no other guy has, he’s shown her this whole other world of being a person and living. He had so much to offer and this was only the beginning.

Maybe that was it.

Tashi felt as if Dion was slipping away from her. If only she knew how unlikely something like that would be.

“This whole situation is so fucking stupid.” Dion huffed, putting her head in her hands. “I mean?” She exasperated, looking back up at him. Patrick just softly nodded his head, still downtrodden from the whole blow-up of events. “Yeah. And the argument only got worse when I said she was being that way because she can’t admit her feelings for you.” He sighed.

“Oh,” Dion said, crossing her arms. “Well, it’s over now. I’ll talk to Tash and things will go back to normal.” She said, with a shrug. She was trying to quickly change the subject to something else so she wouldn’t have to focus on the fact that Tashi was avoiding her feelings in some way. Patrick could tell what she was doing, he just stared at her, admiring her as she thought.

“Do you have feelings for me?” She asked, looking up at the boy. Their eyes instantly met since he was already observing her as she played with the loose thread on her bed sheet. He jerked his head back at her question, caught off guard by her sudden movements and question.

“Jeez, Dion.” The boy groaned, throwing his head back. While she thought he was doing it out of annoyance, Patrick was honestly trying to hold back the boner he was getting just watching her. The sun shone through the blue curtains giving the girl this ethereal glow. The way her lounge-wear shirt fell off her shoulders because of its size. And those shorts she always wore that showed the bottom of her ass cheek just right. She had hundreds of those shirts and they all loved when she wore them.

“What?” Dion asked, shrugging her shoulders. “You’re the one that told me I need to be more forward.”

“That’s not what I mean, King.”

“Just answer the question.” Dion pouted, watching as he tilted his head back down to look at her. Dion always loved his eyes, probably not as much as Art’s since he had heterochromia, but Patrick’s were a close second. The honey brown starts at the rim of his pupil and expands into this beautiful blue. His eyes were always dilated, at least when she looked into them, and she loved seeing that look.

“Of course, Dion.” That was all he said. His eye herb wavering from hers. Dion smiled at his words before standing on her knees and growing closer to the male. She planted herself right next to him, still on her knees with her hands holding her weight as she sat back in her legs.

“That’s good to know.” She smiled at him. Patrick smirked, seeing the mischief swimming in her eyes. His eyes traced her features, her oiled skin, her curly roots peeking from under the towel on her head, the way one of her eyebrows was a little fuller than the other. Her lips looked sticky from the honey she sucked earlier. Everything about her was a sight to see. “Now do you think you deserve your gift?” She asked, using the sickly sweet voice she always did to get her way. The same way she sounded when they first met. Patrick nodded his head, not even giving the question a second thought as she stared the girl in the eyes.

Dion pursed her lips in a tiny pout. “I should make you work for it after being so absent these past few days.” She said, giving the boy a once over. She could see the huge bulge he had in his shorts that he was trying to hide by stuffing his hands into his shirt. Her eyes trailed back up to see his muscles poking through the shirt, the girl getting wet from his figure. “Do you think you should work for it or do you want the gift?” She asked, finally looking him back in the eye. Patrick licked his lips, eyes darting everywhere on his face before answering. “I think I should work for it.” He whispered.

Dion smirked, rising to her knees again. She never took her eyes off of him and Patrick followed hers. She looked down at him as she took the towel off her hair. Some of the parts were a little wet but that didn’t bother either of them, especially at this moment.

Dion then straddled Patrick’s lap, her knees on either side of his. He immediately untucked his hands from his shirt and latched onto her waist. He leaned in, thinking her lips were gonna meet his but she backed away at the last moment. His lips met her jawline with a wet kiss. Dion looked back and leaned in again but pulled the same move, dodging his lips to his net her cheek this time. Patrick whined at the lack of contact after a few more tries while Dion smirked. She did it one last time.

Only this time, Patrick didn’t stop. He trailed wet kisses anywhere he could as his hands squeezed at her torso. Dion sighed out a few airy moans as his kiss ended up behind her ear. Hearing just those sounds made Patrick target that spot, sucking and licking at the spot until he could feel the skin become tender under his tongue.

Unknowingly, his hands traveled down her back and under her big shirt to grab her bottom. His large hands cupping her ass instantly evoked a reaction out of the girl, letting out a loud moan. At that, Patrick groaned into her neck. He backed away from her neck to see her face morph into one of pleasure as he groped her ass. At the loss of contact, Dion looked down at him. “I didn’t say stop, did I?” She asked.

Patrick immediately got back to what he was doing, licking and kissing anywhere he could on her neck, even going down to her chest at one point. Dion was a moaning mess as he continued to okay with her ass cheeks, just the feeling of him so close to her heat made her feral. And one thing about Dion, she was a talker. She also loved herself a talker.

“You’re just so good to me baby.” She sighed into Patrick’s ear as he went to town at the top of her breast, oh so close to popping them out. “You treat me so well.” She moaned. Patrick's hips jolted at her words, loving when she just talked to him. He could cum just listening to her talk. He has once when he heard her talking Art through a climax. At that, Dion moans again, his bulge hitting her covered heat.

She then pulled away and stood up on her knees. Patrick, too engrossed in the feeling of her soft breasts on his tongue, kept licking away as he washed closer and closer to popping them out of her bra. Seeing this, Dion grabbed the back of the brunette’s head and pulled him back. His face was pink, eyes blown and lips plump. Their eyes met.

“You’ll take care of me, right?” She asked, using that sweet voice on him.

Patrick nodded, his hands still on her ass and his hips lightly rutting up against the air. Dion's eyes turned stern and she grabbed the boy by the jaw, making his lips pucker. “Speak.” She demanded.

“Yes.” At that, Dion leaned forward and gave him a wet and sort of sloppy kiss on his pursed lips.

“And you won’t hide things from me anymore?” She asked, tightening her grip on his face just a tad.

“No, never.” The boy panted with a quick shake of his head. Dion gave him another kiss, this one a little longer than the last. She broke away, a thin trail of spit connecting them. “And you know that I’ll always care for you?” She asked. Patrick nodded before he could form a verbal answer. Her words were working him up and he was close to cumming in his shorts. He’s never been this way with any girl but Dion just bought something out of him. She had a way of getting people to do what she wanted.

“Mmh hmm.” Patrick finally said, trying his best to hold back his climax as his hands continued to grip her ass and she continued to moan and speak to him. Dion brought her lips back down to his, barely moving as the boy stretched his neck to meet her in a head kiss. She was practically shoving her tongue down his throat as they kissed, and Patrick loved it. He loved that his rather docile and sweet girl was corrupting him in ways he didn’t know he liked. He didn’t know he needed it. Dion broke away, feeling the boy’s rock-hard bulge on her pussy when he lifted her ass cheeks and slapped them. She let out a loud moan into her mouth, which made him snack it again. Knowing they were close, she broke the kiss. Much to Patrick’s dismay the boy groaned.

“I know you’re close, baby. I know.” The girl cooed in between kisses on his cheek. But I have to give you your gift before we continue. She then got off his lap and turned to the nightstand next to her bed. She pulled open the first drawer and brought out a dark blue velvet box. She sat back down next to him, both of them igniting the huge bulge in his shorts.

Patrick opened the box to see a golden ring in the center of it.

He didn’t say anything as he started at the price of jewelry.

Scared of his reaction, Dion started to ramble. “It’s, uh, a jasper stone or something like that, I don’t know. I just got it because it matched the one Art has and it’s kind of like the whole fire & ice thing. It’s also a pinky ring because I felt like that fit more of your vibe—” The girl's monologue was cut off by Patrick's lips in hers. The male kissed her vigorously, trying to show all his passion and affection through one kiss. He used so much force that Dion fell back into the bed, Patrick not detaching from her as she followed her down.

Breaking away for air, Dion looked up at the boy in front of her.

“So, you like it?” The girl asked out of breath.

“I love it.” Patrick’s said, sincerity laced in his tone. “But I’d love something else a whole lot more right now.” He said, giving the girl a knowing look, his pupils bigger than before. Dion laughed as she rolled her eyes.

“Okay.” Was all she needed to say for Patrick to trail fine her body and place his face between her legs. He said in his stomach and could practically smell her arousal. It was as if they were both animals in heat at this moment. Before he could dive in, even with her shirts still in, Dion spoke.

“Did you cum in your shorts?”

“Yeah, it happened in our last kiss”. Was all the answer he gave before his lips were latching onto her bottom ones poking through her shorts.

Let me know if you guys would like to be in the taglist :)

#challengersmovie #challengers movie #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig #tashi x reader #tashi duncan #tashi donaldson #mike faist #josh o'connor #zendaya

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nightlyrequiem · 10 days ago

Text

Be Still My Heart

Chapter 10- The Offer

Masterlist AO3 Next Previous

New Chapter Every Saturday

You're the best in the meth industry but a new product suddenly pops up. You and your boss, Valeria, must figure out who is making it so you can take back the market. All the while tension is building between the two of you.

A/N: When I was outlining chapters like four months ago, I thought each one would be 2k words, but I'm struggling to get them over 1100. SOS

Tags/Warnings: Illegal Substances, Boss Employee Relationship, Angst, Some Hurt/Comfort, Violence, Manipulation, Suggestive Themes, Smut (But Only in CH20.), Dual POV

Valeria's fist collides with the wall. The skin on her knuckles splits, and she lets out an aggravated breath. Stiff with rage and filled with indignation. The lab has been destroyed, nothing was salvageable. Which means no more product will be produced for a while. She places her face in her hands and rubs at her temple. Clutching at her hair until it hurts. Replacing everything is going to cost a fortune. All because of you. Maybe hiring you was a mistake. Meeting you was a mistake. No. That's too harsh, she thinks. She's been caught and arrested, nearly killed more times than she can count, betrayed, what is this but a small setback? Life has thrown as many obstacles as it could at her and like the cockroach that she is, she's survived all of it and came out stronger.

The image of her men dragging your limp, bleeding body from the flames is seared into her brain. You looked so still. Valeria thought you were dead, if only for a few moments. She thought she lost you before she ever got to have you. The grief she felt cut her to her core and that scared her more than anything. Valeria shakes her head and ignores the dull sting on her hand. She needs to start replacing all the equipment and materials lost to your stupidity. As Valeria pulls out her phone, intending to call up some contacts, it rings.

"What?" She answers. Her irritation bleeding into her voice.

"... Valeria." A man says. One of the people she sent to Pajaro Azul. "That meth? It's here, too."

Valeria simply grunts in response.

"But we can't locate the source. Everyone we speak to is just the dealer for the dealer." He continues. "The Pajaro Azul Cartel is starting to get testy about us being here. We nearly got into a shootout yesterday. They want us gone. I don't think it originated from here" He trails off, waiting for her to reply.

Valeria collects her scrambled thoughts.

"Stand your ground." she decides stubbornly, not caring that she's putting their lives in danger. Danger is what you sign up for when you join a cartel. "Don't come home until you find something that makes you know instead of think."

"But Patrona-"

Valeria hangs up before he can finish. She sighs warily. All thirty-seven years of her life sit on her shoulders heavily. Applying bruising pressure to her collarbones. She needs to speak to you. Valeria said some harsh things to you, which she isn't sorry for. However, she is still... fond of you and knows that what she said has upset you. Valeria stalks over to her desk, grabbing the small vase of flowers she had purchased for you earlier. Soft, pale pink petals hang over short light green stalks. The botanist she visited had many other options. some with different flower arrangements. Valeria liked the single type arrangement best. It's uniform. She had considered roses but figured it would be too cliche.

You're asleep in bed. Lying on your back. The sight makes her uncomfortable. The same stillness that made her think you were dead. Valeria gently grabs your shoulder.

"Hey." She says, giving you a light shake. Your brows furrow with displeasure and you open your eyes groggily.

"What?" You mutter thickly, voice deepened from sleep. What an attractive sound. Valeria files it away for later use.

"I'm just checking up on you." Valeria murmurs. Setting down the flowers on the bedside table. Your eyes shift away from hers. Her hand twitches. Wanting to lay it atop yours. She sits herself down on the bed slowly. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine." You reply.

"Just fine?" Valeria frowns. "Your leg is injured, you have first degree burns, and stitches."

"I know."

Valeria sighs. "I'm sorry for how I spoke to you." Even if she isn't sorry, she can at least pretend to be. "I was just angry and worried. you're not useless. Not even close."

Your frown deepens. "...Okay."

"I don't want you moving around though." She clears her throat. Patting your knee.

"Why not?" You ask, sitting up and clearly not happy about Valeria's decision.

"You can't even walk on you own." She reminds you.

You shake your head in protest, sweat lightly glistening on your hairline.

"You're not going to keep me here for my entire healing process, are you?"

Valeria picks up on the discomfort in your voice. "Well, I can't let you go home like this. You live alone, correct?" She already knows the answer, of course. A small apartment near downtown. Single bedroom and empty of all life when you aren't occupying the space.

"Yeah, but I can still take care of myself."

"You can't walk." She repeats herself. An idea pops into her head. An image of you in the spare bedroom in her own home. Just a few doors down from her room. Isolated and reliant her. Valeria really likes that image. She's also going to file that away for later use. "You can come stay with me."

She watches you closely. Your hands grip the edge of the thin, scratchy blanket that hasn't been washed since it was bought.

"That's... kind, but I don't think it's necessary." You reply carefully.

"I insist." Valeria says, leaning towards you without breaking eye contact. She knows you don't want to, but she also knows you can't do much to protest. There's a dubious satisfaction to be found in that fact. In the control she has over you. "Chemists are expensive and hard to come by, I want to make sure you're back to full health without any hiccups."

"That's really not... necessary, I'd hate to intrude."

"it's no problem, really."

"I'm sure you'd like to keep your privacy."

"Plenty of privacy at my place."

You look away, jaw tight.

Valeria cocks her head at you. She isn't pleased that you seem so... unwilling. she understands hesitance but it's like you can't think of anything worse than staying with her. She's not used to this feeling of rejection. But then again, she doesn't ever present people with the opportunity to do so. Like when she could feel her ex-girlfriend pulling away. Just the smallest gut feeling. Valeria shut herself off from her and left her first. Valeria will always have the last word, always.

"Sure, thank you, Valeria." You begrudgingly relent.

"Good." Valeria smiles faintly. "Just make a list a list of some belongings you may need or want, and I'll send someone to your apartment." That person will be Valeria, of course. She's probably just as uncomfortable as you are at the idea of some stranger pawing through your belongings. Good thing Valeria isn't a stranger. Besides, she's never been inside your home and she's curious to see what your dwellings look like.

#valeria garza #cod mw2 #valeria garza x reader #modern warefare ii #valeria garza x fem!reader #valeria garza cod #cod x reader #cod x you #cod mwii #cod modern warfare #cod #valeria garza x you #call of duty modern warfare

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hotteoki · 2 years ago

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until i found you (l.y.b.)

pairing: lee yongbok/felix x fem!reader

wc: 2.7k

warnings: /

notes: let’s pretend for the sake of this fic that gold watch felix doesn’t exist… 😃

💋

felix was your first love, your only love. when you first started dating, you both knew already that eventually, it was inevitable that you would break up. it was impossible for first relationships to ever last forever. despite that, you continued on the relationship, only praying that maybe, just maybe, there's a chance of it being permanent.

the relationship shockingly went on longer than all your classmates and parents predicted, 3 years of being with your soulmate, or so you were convinced. needless to say, you experienced your first ever heartbreak when felix broke the news to you about moving back to korea to jumpstart his idol life.

you were grateful that he, at least, was clearly upset about leaving you. that way you could remember your first relationship as mutually loving, that it wasn't one-sided.

you remembered sending him off at the airport, holding back tears, and keeping up your composure. seeing his shimmering eyes welling up had made you want to cry as well, but you had forced yourself to swallow the growing lump in your throat. that day had been well over 5 years ago, yet you still remembered it like it was yesterday.

of course, you had attempted long-distance with him, but school for you and training for him was too overwhelming, and eventually you lost contact, wondering whether pressing that call button of the other's number would change anything.

it hurt even more to see him all over the internet now. you were beyond proud of him, of course, he had always dreamt of being a singer, but it hurt knowing that felix had probably forgotten all about you. surely, by now, he would have gotten into tons more relationships, right? far more than you, anyway. it's not like you haven't gone on dates, it was just that none of them could ever compare the true love you felt for felix.

so when you travelled to korea during the winter holidays with your friends, you secretly prayed to somehow, if the stars had finally managed to align, you would cross paths with felix again. "maybe you'll bump into him on the street or something!" it was meant to be a joke, but deep down, you honestly did want that to happen.

after spending the entire day walking around the busy streets of seoul, you were exhausted. laying on one of the grand beds and waiting for the bathroom to be free, you noticed you were still feeling a bit hungry. jumping up and to the door, you announced to your friends of your leaving the hotel. yuna, the only one who wasn’t currently in the toilet doing her nightly routine, had offered to tag along, worried for your safety. "it's fine, it's right next to the hotel, they'll be hotel security watching."

she was unconvinced, but you had already ran off. (do not ever let your friends go out the dark alone, this is purely for the plot of the fic, i promise you will not meet a handsome korean man in the middle of the night. stay safe ladies <3) truthfully? you hoped you could somehow catch felix in the convenience store. you knew the chances were impossibly low, but you weren't going to leave korea with your head filled with 'what ifs?'

rummaging through the shelves, you weren't even sure what you wanted to buy. you had collected a few snacks for your friends, but you had cravings for almost everything in the cursed store, and you didn't have enough money to pay, even if you had ditched the others' food.

after putting down the cup noodles for the fifth time, you sighed deeply, knowing picking it up and down wouldn't make money magically appear in your pocket. just as you were about to walk away, a taller figure leaned over you, taking the exact cup noodle package you had been fiddling with for the past few minutes.

your first instinct was to push the person away. looking up to meet the stranger's eyes, still slightly stunned from the sudden intruding, your fear was quickly replaced with genuine surprise. “felix,” you winced at the harshness of your tone; you meant it as more of a greeting. “hey again.” you were convinced his voice was hand crafted by angels themselves.

without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around you, engulfing you in a warm hug. you hadn’t even realised you had returned it instinctively until he pulled away, causing your arms to fall to your side. “what are you doing here in korea? i thought you’d be back home?” home. you couldn’t resist the widening smile on your face. felix still considered australia his home.

“i came here as a getaway with my friends. work has been crazy overwhelming,” you rubbed your neck, fidgeting under his gaze. you couldn’t bear to meet his eyes; there was no way he still had feelings for you, you probably mistook the kindness in his eyes as adoration. or even love.

felix sighed, taking your items from your hold and placing them in his basket, beginning to walk down the aisle, “tell me about it. we’ve been preparing for our new song and i think the stress is getting to all of us. it’s actually why i came down here, to get away from the pressure, you know?” you trailed beside him, playing with your fingers subconsciously. not once did you consider how stressful an idol’s job could be, you had kind of expected it to be more carefree than a regular job, considering they didn’t exactly have a 9-5 schedule.

“how’s the idol life going? loving your fans?” you forced a smile, pushing the big question you so badly wanted to ask him down your throat. “yeah, of course. stays are the best, i wish i could meet them all and just, you know, say thank you. i wouldn’t have gotten anywhere without them.” you stopped in your step, “you know that’s not true, you’ve always been talented in music.”

felix laughed, blushing from the compliment, “thank you. but enough about me, how’s your life going?” you continued down the aisle in thought, him following along. you weren’t so sure telling your ex boyfriend whom you still had feelings for that you dumped so many guys because of him was such a good idea. you chose to settle for the safer route, “well, i got my dream job, and it’s going pretty well, which, thank the lord.”

he nodded in understanding, “yeah, i remember you saying how scared you were about getting a job you hated and having to live with that.” you had been so busy talking you hadn’t even realised felix had paid for your items as well. “oh, no, it’s okay, i’ll pay you back, wait,” you panicked, reaching for your wallet. “no, no, it’s fine, i insist,” he placed a hand on your wrist, guiding the both of you out the convenience store, “it’s honestly okay.”

he held out the smaller plastic bag to you, “there’s yours.” you received it, and couldn’t help noticing the significantly larger bag he clutched in his other hand. felix smiled sheepishly, “i promise i’m not crazy. it’s for the others.” “ah.” there was a silence before he smiled again, “do you want to come back to the building with me and meet the other guys?” panic began to rise in your chest again. although you knew felix when you were both 17, he could very well have completely changed now. you were also convinced going to an unknown building at 12 at midnight was a one way ticket to danger.

felix, seemingly sensing your unease, added, “you don’t have to if you don’t want to! please don’t feel obliged to.” you contemplated. on one hand, you finally reunited with felix, the person whom you’ve loved for years, hoping every day you could see him again; but on the other hand, not only would your friends be worried sick, but you were aware of the risks of going back with a not-so stranger at night.

finally deciding on a plan, you offered, “meet here tomorrow at 12 in the afternoon?” oh, the gleam in felix’s eyes made you want to succumb into his very being so bad. “i’ll see you then.”

“you’re kidding.” you were gathered around on one of the beds with your friends, telling them about your encounter with felix. “you proved me wrong so quickly,” millie tsked, throwing herself back onto the pillows. “i still can’t believe it. genuinely, what are the chances?” yuna crossed her arms, staring in wonder. “that’s not the point now, though, is it?” leah settled everyone down with that statement. she crossed her arms, turning to you, “the point is that you’re meeting up with an ex boyfriend, the only one who you’ve ever truly been in love with,” she paused, sighing at your disappointed look,

"i don’t mean that it’s a bad thing, darling, i know you love him, but we have to approach this realistically, right? the relationship ended because felix had to move back. even if you were to date him again, eventually we’re going back to australia,” leah tried reasoning gently, placing a hand on your knee. you remained silent. she was right. “that being said, you can still meet him, but it would be really dangerous for your feelings…” tara chimed in, trailing off. “i honestly think staying here with us is the safest path, but if you’re willing to take a risk,” leah shrugged. for felix? you’d take any and all risks for him.

of course you didn’t tell him of your dilemma. how could you? seeing the little hops in his every step brightened your day immediately. the girls had been reasonably disheartened that you couldn’t join them for their shopping, but you knew they had tried not to let it show by waiting with you at to the store until felix arrived.

“have you had lunch yet?” felix prodded, not wanting you to go about the day without the energy you needed. nodding, you allowed him to lead you down the road, towards the infamous jyp building. you had silently wished he would hold your hand like he always used to, but you also knew that any bit of hope should be crushed right then and there. this wasn’t the felix you dated years ago, this is another felix. an unfamiliar one, who has a new online persona, and even though he smells exactly like he used to, has the same smile, still as caring as before, this wasn’t your felix.

one step into the building and you already wanted to run away. this was a horrible idea. the sweet tone of felix greeting the staff practically turned you into a puddle, and you knew right then and there that you needed to leave immediately before an inevitable messy situation comes up.

just as you were about to protest about going back to your friends, you were interrupted by hyunjin and jeongin. you had recognised them plenty of times from social media. feeling obliged to stay now, you smiled awkwardly at their warm welcomings.

introducing yourself as well, you hadn't failed to notice their smiles falter at the mention of your name. you unwillingly began jumping to conclusions. did felix talk badly about you? did you do something just now to offend them? was it your outfit? did they know who you were?

you did fail to catch, however, was how felix's entire face flushed with red at the un-subtleness of his friends. they knew exactly just how in love with you he still was, he had never moved on, how could he? you were the love of his life, the one made just for him. no other girl he went on time-wasting dates with could ever compare to you.

felix was only slightly glad they pulled you away to their dance practice room to meet the other members, he needed time to recollect his thoughts, wait for his burning cheeks to cool down and return his speeding heartbeat to normal.

it was way too long before felix could pull you away for some alone time again. realistically, it was probably around 10 minutes or so, and it would've been longer had chan not caught felix's sulking eyes over his friends hogging the girl he had longed to reunite with for years. chan knew the reason why felix's relationships never lasted and why he was picky about going on dates.

felix's nervous mood throughout your lunch together in the now empty practice room was contagious, you now felt paranoid too. "are you okay?" you tried to ask casually, placing the leftover rubbish of your lunch down beside you. his eyes flew to meet yours, his jittery behaviour was unlike him. "yeah, no, i'm fine, i just..." he breathed in, swallowing with difficulty, "i haven't seen you in a long time." oh.

"it's..." he sighed, running a hand through his hair, leaning back against the mirrored wall, resting his other hand on his knees. "this year's been tough for me. i was in a really dark space and i wasn't sure what to do, you know? i would always think back to how you would be the one i'd run to whenever i needed someone to talk to, and how i could trust you with anything," he paused, looking for any indications of discomfort on your expression. your smile allowed him to visibly relax, his shoulders dropping.

"i have to admit that," he hesitated, before continuing reluctantly, "i was convinced that i would never fall in love again." another pause. "unless it's you i fall into," felix's voice grew quieter and quieter, as if he was uncertain whether he should go on or not. leaning over slightly and reaching for his hand, you squeezed it once, giving him reassurance. you were honestly surprised you weren't full on crying with joy. he still loved you.

felix seemed more sure of himself, but his words still failed him as they came out shakily, "i was... lost. i was lost within the darkness. nothing helped. i tried putting my emotions into singing, but i still felt that burning pain inside." your heart ached at his words. you felt guilty for doubting his feelings for you, all this time you thought he had long moved on.

"but then i found you." you finally saw it. your eyes connected with his and it was unmistakable. the love in his eyes was true. he stood up, and for a second you thought he was about to run away, but he tugged on your interlocked hands, indicating for you to follow.

now that you were standing parallel to him, felix held out something in his hand. how long had he been holding that for? he probably fished it out of his pocket while standing up. you took the item in your hands, before realising it was the necklace you gifted him the day he left. he kept it.

it was a simple, silver necklace with your initial and his chained together. you stared up at him, unsure of what exactly he wanted you to do with it. "i never wore it because of how much it reminded me of you, and it hurt to be reminded every day of how it's possible that i would never see you again."

you remained silent. you knew that once you clasped the chain around his neck, you're done for. you'd never be able to let him go. you were conflicted. this was your dream come true, reconciling with your first and only love; but on the other hand, you had your whole life in australia, everything you'd ever worked for was there.

but felix was here. he's right here, right in front of you.

wrapping your arms around him, you connected the clips of the necklace. your arms remained there, and you pressed your cheek against his chest, breathing in his scent. felix enveloped your figure in his hold, his head resting atop yours.

although your voice came out slightly muffled, what you said next brought the biggest grin on his face. "i'll never let you go again like i did before." you had a hell of a story to tell your friends.

#lee felix #felix x reader #stray kids x reader #skz #skz x reader #stray kids #yongbok x reader #stray kids felix #stray kids x you #stray kids fluff #bang chan x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #jeongin x reader #minho x reader #bang chan x you #christopher bang #i.n on top #jisung x reader

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 2 years ago

Text

thistle, part one

a/n: I'm posting the next part in a few days, so you won't have to wait too long to find out what happens next ♡

summary: “A title that’s been true since the moment I was born, but there are also a few others that are just as real. I am a son, I am a brother, I am a soldier. I am still the exact same person you spoke to only yesterday. I haven’t changed one bit, so please don’t act like I have. Please, at least call me James.”

warnings: James Potter x reader, royal au, prince!James, servant!reader (lady's maid), forbidden romance, secret relationship, historical au (beginning of the 1920s), references to WW1, surely extremely historically inaccurate but this is just for fun, lovesick!James, weapons, grief, death, smut, kissing, attending a ball, dancing, pussyjob, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, creampie, cockwarming, oral

word count: 6148

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Marching up to the bespectacled man exiting the stables, his clothes all ruffled and dirtied from the ride he’d presumably just taken on this drizzly day, “excuse me, sir?” he slowed his trek at the sound of your soft voice, turning his head to look at you in surprise, “do you know the way to the servant's entrance? I seem to be a bit lost.”

“Um, yeah,” he blinked a second, taken aback by your question as he gave you a quick once over, “it’s just down that path,” he pointed towards the east side of the castle, “green door, can’t miss it.”

“Thank you,” you nodded, tightening your grip on your suitcase and began to move in that direction.

“Are you new here?” he asked swiftly, halting your movements.

“Kinda,” you said, “I’m the queen mother’s new lady’s maid.”

“Oh,” a genuine smile bloomed on his face, “I didn’t know grand-, I mean, her majesty Delilah was coming for a visit.”

“Well, I’d imagine you as, I presume, a groundskeeper,” you guessed, squinting your eyes at the helpful stranger in front of you, “isn’t exactly first on the list of people who need to be notified of such things.”

Choking out a small chuckle, neither confirming nor denying your guess, he simply glanced down at his muddy boots, “yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Looking back over your shoulder at the large castle looming over you, “I’m sorry, but I should really get going. Her majesty likes to freshen up quite a bit after a long trip such as this.”

“Oh, yeah,” he exhaled, clearly not ready to part ways yet, “you go take care of that, I’ll see you around.”

“See you!” you shouted over your shoulder as you made your way towards the discreet green door.

“That’s pretty,” a smoky voice from out of nowhere made you jump and promptly stop your soft humming, dropping the small bouquet of wildflowers you had picked but a moment ago. Turning to see who else could be out here in the forest, you spotted the helpful figure from the day before, leaning against a tree.

“Jesus! You gave me a fright!” a hand came up to clutch your chest.

“Sorry,” he smiled, shifting the bent hunting rifle that rested over his burly forearm.

“It’s fine, no harm done,” you exhaled slowly, “just need to make my heartbeat understand that as well…”

Watching as you momentarily bent down to pick the dropped flowers off the forest floor, “you out on a walk I presume?” he pushed off the tree and stepped closer.

“Yeah, well,” you rose back up, “the weather finally cleared up, so I thought a bit of fresh air might do me well,” you said, gliding one of your cold hands down into your coat pockets, “plus I’ve heard so much about the grounds here, I wanted to see them for myself.”

“They are quite something, aren’t they?” he smiled warmly down at you.

Feeling heat begin to rise in your cheeks from his unwavering glare, you coughed lightly and glanced down at the humble bouquet clutched in your grasp, “and, um, you’re-”

“Hunting,” he filled in before you could manage to finish your guess.

“Oh, am I getting in your way?” worry filled your voice, imagining that bullets could start flying over your head as soon as a bird flew by, “is it safe for me to be out here? I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware-”

“Nah, you’re good,” he waved a reassuring hand, “I split up from the others a while ago and then when I heard you, I wandered even further away from the rest.”

“You followed me?” he noticed your eyes flicker down towards the weapon he was carrying.

“I-, oh god,” he winced, scrunching his expression up in regret and bowing his head, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I am a stranger to you with a deadly firearm, not a harmless bunny rabbit,” you could literally see the imaginary whip he was punishing himself with, “I’m sorry I scared you, I’ll just go-”

“No!” flew out your lips before you had a chance to think, “It’s fine, you can stay if you want.”

Gazing into your eyes a moment, he then exhaled, “thank you, miss.”

“Y/l/n,” you told him, “my name is Y/n Y/l/n.”

“Y/n,” the corners of his lips curled up as he tasted your name on his tongue.

“And your name?”

“James,” he said, then stressed, “just James.”

James… like the youngest of the two princes? You shouldn’t act too surprised; it was a common enough name after all.

“Can I ask you something?” he spoke as you wordlessly agreed to go for a stroll together among the birch trees.

“Sure.”

“How long have you been the queen mother’s lady’s maid? It’s just, I remember her previous one, the one she had before the war, and I feel like I would have noticed when you came along.”

“It’s been about 6 months now…” you answered rather sombrely.

“You don’t sound pleased about that.”

“No,” you glanced in his direction to underline your statement, “I love the job, don’t get me wrong, it’s just-,” you choked on the bitter fact and opted to say, “it’s complicated.”

“Is it too complicated for a man like me to comprehend?” he offered with a gentle smile.

Letting a low sigh flow out, you spoke, “that previous one you remember?” he nodded in confirmation, “that was my mom.” You tried to ignore how your bottom lip began to quiver, “she had me out of wedlock and later in her life, so not many people knew about me. But her majesty Delilah did. She’d always been very fond of my mother, so she let me grow up there at Cudworth palace. She-,” you let out a shaky breath, still finding it difficult to vocalize, “she became ill a few years back, so her majesty made the decision to let me inherit the position. Made sure I was set up for a good life, I guess… My mother trained me for as long as she could till I was nothing short of flawless. It’s been 6 months… 6 months with the job and 6 months without her…”

“Yes, I think the sapphires will do quite nicely for tonight,” Delilah purred as her weathered fingers brushed over the jewellery spread out in a presentational fashion on the vanity she sat at.

Wrapping a silver lock around your finger, you carefully pinned the last piece in place, securing her intricate updo. Glancing at the finished product in the reflection, you then agreed, “sapphire it is,” plucking the precious stones off the doily-clad table and gently adorning her earlobes with them.

“Beautiful work, dear,” Delilah gave your hand a small pat as you secured the last earring, momentarily catching your eye in the mirror.

The dragon lady. That’s what people called her. Though, through all of your life, the intimidating queen mother had been nothing but kind to you. It was clear that she had a soft spot for you, though you’d never dare to confirm that suspicion.

“Thank you, madam,” a soft smile quickly warmed up your features as you checked her hair one last time, “I hear the prime minister will be attending dinner tonight.”

“Oh, well, I guess I couldn’t avoid him forever. Hopefully, they won’t seat him beside me this time, it was so awfully boring last time, kept on talking about cricket.”

“Could always be sneaky and pretend that you can’t hear him,” you suggested with a sly grin.

“Wouldn’t that be something,” her crow's feet framed eyes glinted with a youthful mischievous glow.

Your shared giggle was interrupted as the door to her champers creaked open. Turning to look, you saw none than your helpful stranger.

“Grandma,” James simply sauntered in as if he owned the place, “I was wondering if you could-,” both his words and his brisk pace fell short as he spotted you, “oh, hi,” your presents promptly brought a fluttering smile to his lips.

Just as you were about to speak up, your eyes wide enough to burst at his audacity, Delilah bellowed, “good lord, James, it’s been enough time, you really must shred that army brashness and start entering a room the way you were raised to. This is not a war room, it’s the castle’s peacock suite!”

“Right,” he chuckled lightly, his eyes never staying on his grandmother for long before flickering back to you, “sorry granny.”

Why was the groundskeeper referring to the queen mother his grandmother? It couldn’t be because-

“Y/n,” Delilah turned in her comfortable chair, “I don’t think you’ve been acquainted. This is my dear James,” she presented with an outstretched arm, “the youngest of my two grandsons.”

Swiftly averting your flabbergasted gaze, you curtsied timidly and gasped, “your highness,” your terrified eyes darting across the Persian rug.

You’d only gotten to know the prince’s likeness through old paintings of him as a child. The battle-scared man standing before you now looked nothing like the bespeckled young royal captured in the portrait you’d passed countless times before.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you miss,” he smiled warmly, bowing his head slightly at you in return.

“Now,” Delilah reached for her cane and slowly pushed herself up to her feet, “what was it you needed?”

“Yeah, um,” he thought for a second, seeming awfully distracted, “it was-… I’m sorry, I completely forgot what it was.”

“Well, maybe you’ll recall during dinner, my boy,” she slowly moved towards the door, “shall we go down?”

“You go ahead,” James gesticulated, “I just need Y/n to send a message down to the kitchen for me. We wouldn’t want them to hold back on the wine now that prime minister Ferrell is joining us.”

“Oh, bless you,” Delilah grinned before disappearing out of the room, “that’s why you’re my favourite.”

Closing the heavy door behind the former monarch, James gently grabbed you by the elbow and guided you further into the room. Preparing yourself for the worst, you immediately promised, “I’ll go relay the message at once,” your head still bowed, not daring to look him in the eye.

“You don’t really have to, I already sent word down an hour ago. I simply said that to get a moment alone with you,” he lowered himself in an effort to catch your cautious gaze, “Y/n,” breathing out your name as if it weighed a ton, “would you please look at me?”

Only momentarily flickering your eyes up to meet his, you blurted out, “forgive me, your majesty, I swear I didn’t know,” your heartbeat was so strong you could hear it pounding in your ears, “I would have never spoken to you in that manner if I knew who you were!”

“Please do not apologise,” goosebumps bloomed on your skin as you felt his fingers briefly caress your arm, “I was so grateful that you didn’t just stiffen up like everyone else, you talked to me like any other man. So, for that, I thank you and beg you to please not change it now that you know.”

“What? I-I couldn’t do that! It isn’t proper, it isn’t right!”

“Why not? You did it before.”

“Well, I didn’t know you were a prince before.”

“A title that’s been true since the moment I was born, but there are also a few others that are just as real. I am a son, I am a brother, I am a soldier. I am still the exact same person you spoke to only yesterday. I haven’t changed one bit, so please don’t act like I have. Please, at least call me James.”

“Your majesty, I couldn’t.”

“Why not, Y/n? It’s just my name, it’s not gonna bite you, didn’t before and I promise it won’t start doing it now.”

“Thomas,” king Fleamont glanced up from his papers to address his eldest son, “we’ve invited a few eligible ladies for tonight. Please actually talk to them this time, don’t just sulk in the corner with your brother.”

“Christ,” James' brother groaned, “papa, I thought this ball was just a little get-together now that granny is in town. Must I truly have to be paraded around every chance there is?”

“If that’s what it takes for you to find a wife, yes,” his father said sternly, then returned his attention to the crisp newspaper.

Grumbling, Thomas slumped back, huffing beside his brother on the tufted couch, “let’s hope they at least push their tits up to the heavens above,” he muttered under his breath for only James’ ears to receive, “that might make it tolerable.”

Chuckling at his sibling’s pout, James then suggested, “since this is for grandmama, why don’t we extend the invitation to Y/n?”

Furrowing her brow over the small fluffy dog in her lap, Euphemia questioned her son’s bold idea, “who’s that?”

“Granny’s lady’s maid,” his words awoke a severe expression to all but one of his family member’s faces.

“Why that’s a wonderful idea, James!” Delilah cheered, “she does indeed deserve a bit of fun.”

Leaning in closer, Thomas hissed in his brother’s ear, “have you gone quite mad? A servant at a ball? Look at a calendar, brother, it isn’t December yet.”

“She isn’t that bad,” James defended, a storm quickly brewing in his chest, “plus, you know, granny’s not that young anymore, it might be a great help for her to be there as support. Just as a precaution.”

“But I have nothing to wear!” you protested, “I didn’t bring a gown, let alone own one.”

“I know you don’t,” Delilah said calmly, not taking any of your blubbering to heart, “that’s why I had a few maids go through an old trunk of mine that I never brought with me to Cudworth,” she snapped her finger at the butler in the corner as he swiftly presented the dusty box he was balancing, “you are gonna wear this,” the top slipped off and you caught sight of the most stunning lavender beaded gown you’d ever beheld in your entire life.

“Your Highness,” you marvelled at the way it sparkled in the low light, “I can’t wear that.”

“I know it’s not the latest fashion, but it’ll do a lot better than that frock you’ve got on now. I only remember wearing it once at a ball back in 1861.”

“I-…” you tried to protest, though nothing came out.

“Y/n, this is not a proposition, you are gonna wear that gown and that is final.”

“God, this soiree is even more ghastly than the last one,” Thomas glanced back over at the cluster of young women fanning themselves and batting their luscious eyelashes at the eligible heir, “you think people would notice if we sneaked off?”

Ever thankful that he didn’t receive the same level of unyielding attention, James cocked his brow at the man half-heartedly attempting to hide behind him, “I don’t think that’s an option, brother,” then snatched up two tall flutes of stary bubbles and handed one off, “here, have another glass of champagne.”

“Thanks, but I’m gonna need a lot more in order to survive the 12 dances I've been swindled into later tonight,” he pouted and took a large gulp. Just then, as the crown prince swallowed down the stinging carbonated beverage, he caught sight of the figure that appeared at the top of the wide staircase. “Wait,” he elbowed his brother, ushering him to glance in that direction, “who’s that?”

Recognising you immediately as you timidly ascended the grand steps, clutching onto the side of your lilac dress, lifting it off the tile so as to not have to trip over it, James uttered through his growing smile, “that’s Y/n,” and nothing whatsoever could stop his unwavering gaze.

“Really?” he scoffed, “that’s the scullery maid?”

“That’s her…” James replied dreamily.

“I gotta admit, in that dress, you could almost mistake her for a real princess.”

“Yeah…” James uttered softly, not hearing a word of what he had just agreed with. “Hold this, will you?” without looking, he handed his glass off to his brother and left his post as the crown prince's unofficial shield.

“James!” Thomas hissed, standing there in alarm, one glass in each hand, not sure if he should follow or not, “where are you going? Don’t leave me alone! I’ll be swallowed whole!”

Catching sight of James’ determined approach, you let out a deep and shaky exhale.

“Y/n!” he smiled, coming to a jovial stop right in front of you, ignoring every merry man trying to catch his high-regarded attention.

“Your highness-” you started, but his voice cut in, breaking your greeting in half.

“James,” he corrected you, the glint in his eye promptly sending a shiver down your corseted spine.

“Good evening.”

“I hope it’s not too forward of me for saying this, but you look absolutely beautiful tonight.”

Your breath got caught in your throat as you blushed over his honeyed words, “thank you, your highness. Though I wouldn’t dare take any of the credit, this was all your grandmother’s doing. This is actually one of her old dresses,” you glanced down at the elegant gown, carefully playing with the skirt and presenting it.

Looking over the fabric just as you did, his earnest words nearly didn’t catch your ears, “I wasn’t complimenting your dress…”

Blinking up into his warm eyes, you found yourself speechless, clueless of how to respond to such flattery by someone of his stature.

“Would you care for a dance?” he asked unexpectedly, evidently not caring about the improper nature of the request, and looking at you as if you were the only person in the entire ballroom.

“That’s very kind of you, your majesty, but I’m afraid I would just embarrass you,” you averted your gaze, “you see, I don’t know how.”

Briefly glancing back at his parents, checking to see if they were watching, James then grabbed your hand, it seeming so small and dainty in his, and uttered, “come with me,” discreetly guiding you out into one of the vacant side chambers.

Following his lead, looking back over your shoulder in fear that someone might notice, it calmed you ever so slightly to see that everyone else was entirely enraptured by the dazzling event.

Shutting the door behind you, his hand still holding yours, he gently turned you around to face him once more. Hearing the string quartet still loud and clear through the walls, the prince smiled, “so, miss Y/l/n,” asking you once more, now in a more private setting, “may I have the honour of this dance?”

Lifting the back of your hand up to give it a small peck, eye contact never wavering, you answered, “the honour would be mine,” blinking up at him through your lashes, “yes, yes you may.”

“Okay, so you just put your left hand right here,” he grabbed it and slid it up, past the many shiny medals adorning his chest, to rest upon his broad shoulder, “and keep the right one where it is,” you inhaled sharply as you felt his free palm slide into place on your waist.

“A-alright,” all the hairs on your body stood up at the intimate proximity, “and now?”

Your right hand entirely engulfed in his, he glided his thumb over it, delicately swiping over a few of your fingers, “now you just let me lead,” noticing how your jaw clenched, he reassured you, “don’t worry, love, it’s easy,” you felt your tense muscles begin to relax a bit at his deep soothing tone, “I’ll do all the hard work, you just trust me, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you offered him a small nod as he gently began to move, taking you with him as he fell into the song’s rhythm as if it was second nature to him.

Simply swaying softly at first, it didn’t take long before he had you flowing to the music, slowly making your way deeper into the room, dancing further away from the lines of light the closed door cast.

When you eventually felt him gain more confidence and move your body around freely, you followed the instinctual reflex to briefly glance down at your shoes. Feeling his hand let go of your waist momentarily, he whispered, “don't look at your feet,” and lifted your chin up so you could meet his gaze, “look right here.”

Letting his finger drop back down into place, you felt his palm move and slide around to your lower back, drawing you in just a little bit closer. Feeling yourself disappear into the warm eyes veiled behind his spectacles, completely enraptured by his being and entranced by the way he moved you, you felt his hitched breath hit your skin as he leaned in close enough for your lips to graze against each other.

But just as your eyelids fluttered close in anticipation of his eventual touch, the sound of the door, now a good ways away, creaking open halted your dance at once.

“James?” you heard the crown prince call out, music now more vibrant as it didn’t have to travel through walls anymore to reach your ears, “you in here?”

Acting quickly, James pulled you around the corner and settled you into the little alcove there, pushing you up against the plate mail stature decorating the small corner and cloaking your figure with his own. His bulky frame swallowed nearly all of the starry light streaming in from the tall windows scattered around the chamber, causing you to be able to see him and only him.

“Seriously brother, you have to get out here before pa realises that you’re gone!”

Disregarding his sibling’s warning, James stood his ground, completely enraptured and sharing your breath as he pressed himself up against your voluminous gown. You weren’t sure if it was because of the proximity or if your fingers simply followed the magnet calling them, but you found yourself pressing your palms against the silky fabric of his detailed jacket, feeling his taught abdomen expand with every shaky breath.

Dilated pupils flickering down towards your lips, you found your own mirroring his, fearing that you might faint in the intensity of it all.

His lips pressed against yours before you even had the chance to fathom that it was actually happening. The prince was kissing you. His lips were brushing against yours not in curiosity, but in genuine yearning.

“Come on James, stop messing around, I know you’re in here!”

A small string of saliva followed as James reluctantly pulled back, thumbs brushing over each one of your cheeks as he stared deeply down into your hazy eyes.

“Come to my room at midnight,” he whispered breathlessly, restraining himself to dive back in.

“Your highness, I-”

“Please,” he interrupted desperately.

You didn’t give yourself another moment to think before giving him an answer, being completely spellbound, you uttered, “yes.”

And with a bright smile, he let go of you and backed away, still staring as you had to reach out for support against the wall in order to not tumble back against the ornamental armor.

“Just hold your horses, Thomas,” he called out to his frantic brother, eyes still locked with yours, “I’m coming!”

Hearing the rapid beating of your heart thumping in your ears, you let out a shaky breath. It took you a long moment to finally mustered up the courage and let your fist come into contact with the prince’s door.

Almost instantaneously was it ripped open as if James’ fingers themselves had already been mere inches from the silver knob, impatiently lying in wait like a lion on the hunt, the action was so swift that it startled you.

Face lighting up as he saw you, nervously standing outside his chambers, he promptly grabbed onto your wrist and pulled you inside.

As the door shut behind you, “h-hi,” you offered him a meek smile and stood in the dim room as if it was a china shop.

Elatedly biting down on his plump bottom lip, he echoed, “hi,” sliding his fingers down to weave through your own. Using the hold as leverage, he gently pulled you in closer, his other palm ready to catch your cheek before confidently pressing his lips against yours.

When he momentarily pulled away, you squeaked, “your majesty-,” hindering him from taking your lips once more.

“James,” he corrected you breathily, keeping his eyes shut and nuzzling his nose lightly against yours.

“James…” you tried to keep your head levelled, “what am I doing here?”

“What do you mean? Do you not want to be here?” he took the hand still enveloped in his and pressed it against his chest, “here, with me?”

“I…” this was wrong. The list of punishable things to stray away from in your line of work was extensive, but this one was certainly at the top, “James…”

“Christ, that sounds good coming from your lips,” he groaned, seizing your lips again and flexing his fingers on the side of your head, lightly messing up your primly pinned hair.

Feeling yourself melt under his touch, the kisses began to wander, scattering down your goosebump-ridden neck.

“We…” your breathing was heavy and ragged, “we can’t… What if someone finds out?”

Pulling back, he gently shook his head, “they won’t,” dark eyes boring into your very soul.

“But I can’t-… Y-you’re-…”

“I?”

“You are-…”

“I am just me… Just James,” he stared down at you, begging you to stay.

“But-”

“I am yours,” he promised you earnestly, a hint of fear glinting in his golden eyes, “I am all yours.”

Choking down a sob, you then found yourself pulling him down for another kiss, letting his overwhelming vow sink in and dim that warning light pleading you not to venture any further.

Soon clawing at the silky fabric of his jacket, your fingers caught in the two rows of shiny buttons, restraining yourself from just ripping them clean off. Letting out a quiet whimper as James suddenly detached from you, taking a step back, gazing down at your heaving form, not giving in as you reached out for him to return.

Eyes fixed, his own fingers slowly found the buttons along his torso and began to undo them. Tilting his chin up, he watched you closely as he carefully unveiled every inch of himself to you. Moving your fingers up to mirror his actions, he swiftly spoke up, “wait, let me do it,” stopping you before you’d truly begun, “please.”

The wish made you suck in a breath in anticipation, slowly lowering your hands back down to either side of your skirt, clutching onto the heavy lavender fabric for support as you gave him a small nod.

For a moment, you thought he was gonna bear it all to you right then and there, perhaps he did as well, but his fingers stilled right at the waistband of his underwear when only they remained. Blinking sluggishly as you tried to take in his breathtaking visage, in what felt like a millisecond, James had moved to be back into your proximity. Walking around to stand behind you, his fingers then began to work at the numerous buttons and laces, freeing you of the unusually extravagant ensemble.

You hadn’t even noticed how you’d stopped breathing till his lips pressed against your exposed shoulder and let the first layer fall.

Little by little, the weight you carried was lightened as he tossed more and more fabric to the cold floor, creating quite the poofy puddle. When the corset fell off, James quickly replaced the stiff restraining item with his large warm palms, feeling your waist through the last thin layer remaining, inhaling deeply against the back of your neck.

Gently turning you around, he slid his hands up your sides, promptly lifting your arms to stay above your head. Not dropping his eyes from yours, he glided fingers down to gather up the material of your delicate chemise, only lifting it over your head when the whole length of it was bunched up in his fists.

Not being able to wait any longer, you let your arms fall, draping them around his broad shoulders and pressing your bare body up against his, the palpable tent in his briefs twitching against your stomach at the contact.

Kissing him deeply, you nearly didn’t register when he scooped you up into his arms, the action seeming so effortless for the prince. Thighs enveloping his hips, it was first your heel that attempted to rid him of his last remaining clothes, though when it only worked to push them an inch off his hips, you impatiently dropped a hand down to yank them down the rest of the way, letting him step out of them as his slow stride closed in on the plush bed on the opposite side of the chamber.

Feeling the bedframe soon halt his footsteps, your lips didn’t fall from his as he leisurely turned and planted himself on the mattress, taking you with him still securely wedged against his body.

With his hands already rooted on your rear end, now that he no longer needed to carry you, they started to explore your body, palming at every pillowy curve within his reach. It only took one measly little rock of your hips against his thighs for him to needily yank you forward, landing your sobbing centre directly on top of his hard length.

“Your highne-, James,” you whimpered, the intoxicating contact making you detach from his lips and hide your blushing cheeks in his sturdy shoulder, still reciprocating his forward actions and sliding your dripping heat all along his throbbing length.

“Please, let me have you,” he groaned into your hair, his hot breath blowing back some of the unravelled hair framing your face, “let me feel your warmth,” he pressed a palm on the small of your back, making you arch it and causing all of the delicious pressure to always be directly on your buzzing little pearl, “just let me in, love,” his fingers caressed your spine as you moaned against his neck, bucking desperately against his hardness, “let me have you, let me have all of you just like you have me.”

Reaching down between your bodies, you grasped onto James’ cock and lifted up your trembling thighs, though his large palms swiftly scooped under you, granting you some more security as you swept the bulbous tip through your folds, parting the wet petals over and over again till your quivering hole was screaming for attention. And then, still with your face buried in the crook of his neck, you sank down, eyes rolling back in your skull as your creamy pussy slowly swallowed all of his length.

“Fuck,” James cursed, his chest rapidly rising and falling underneath you.

Clinging onto him for dear life, you slowly began to ride him, shakily bouncing in his lap. Lewd squelching noises reverberated off the palace walls as he let you find your rhythm, eventually finding a slow but intense pace, first raising yourself nearly completely off, till just the memory of his girth remained, and then slamming your hips down against his own so hard that it actually made you see stars with how deep he got.

“Let me see that beautiful face of yours,” you felt his fingers come to rest on each side, in no way attempting to force your head back, simply pleading with you sweetly with every gentle sweep of his thumbs against your cheeks. Your hips faltered as you timidly crawled out of your hiding spot and blinked your heavy lids at him.

The shyness eventually melted away as you registered the adoring look in his eye. Gradually resuming your hips moments, you watched as his head tilted back ever so slightly in pleasure and gaze down at you through his lashes, “there you go, darling,” you let out a loud moan as you felt his palm accompany his praise, swiftly landing it upon your bottom, encouraging your bouncing and causing you to get back on track that much faster.

Rapidly nearing the end now that his soulful eyes were locked with yours, you found yourself completely lost in the euphoric feeling, eventually welcoming James’ desperate aid as he dug his fingers into your hips and rocked you in his lap, essentially just using your body as he would with his own fist at night, lifting you off with such ease and fucking into you till you were both absolutely wrecked by the perfectly synched orgasms that rocked your realities. Though still, even as the pace slowed, he still kept on bouncing you in his lap, pushing his load deeper within you with every needy thrust.

Breathlessly, both of you still completely enveloped in each other, your arms sluggishly draped around his neck and his wrapped around your sweaty body, keeping you pressed up against him.

Slowly blinking his eyes open and staring back at you through his glasses, which had long ago glided so far down his long nose that they were now on the verge of falling off, he sighed contently and pressed his forehead against yours.

“Promise that you’ll write to me,” he whispered, his deep rumble making your sensitive body tingle and your walls clamper down on his softening girth.

First giving his nose a light nudge with yours, you then brushed your lips against his, rapidly developing the innocent peck into a kiss so passionate that the time might as well have stopped.

“I will,” you breathed, feeling the most blissful of tears roll down your cheek, “I promise.”

“Y-your majesty!” you gasped, throwing your head back in ecstasy, nearly bumping your head against the doorframe you were balancing against.

Detaching his lips from your swollen clit with a pop, he glanced up at you from his kneeling position and corrected, “James…” chuckling lightly as his fingers still clutched onto your dark skirt, bunching it up at your waist, “love, it’s been a whole year, thought you’d shake that habit by now.”

“Has it truly been a year already?” a shaky breath escaped your throat as he planted a kiss on your gleaming petals that was way too soft for how close he had you to the edge.

“Happiest year of my life…” he beamed, right before diving back in, eating you out so as if someone could walk in and interrupt your fun at any moment, which was completely probable seeing as he hadn't waited for you to be behind closed doors for him to have a taste, simply whirled you around a corner and told you to be on lookout while he had his fun.

“Fuck!” you weaved your fingers through his hair in an effort to keep him steady as the fireworks set off inside your belly, “James, I’m gonna-, don’t stop!”

Bucking against his tongue as he stared up at your pleasure-filled face in awe, his mouth eventually eased into light pecks, loving the way your sensitive form jumped against his lips. Eventually rising back up to his feet, he pressed his slick-covered lips against yours and let your dress fall back down, covering the mess he had made.

“Thank you,” he smiled brightly, lifting his thumb up to clean the glistening lower half of his face, swiping the finger over his chin only to bring it back up to his pillowy lips, licking the rest of your essence off and enjoying every last drop you’d given him.

“…It was an automobile accident…”

“W-what?” James uttered breathlessly, haven not heard a word of what his father had said after the bomb had been dropped.

Tightening his jaw in an effort to control his own unbearable emotions, the severe king repeated, keeping his voice clear and stern, “your brother, crown prince Thomas, died last night. The authorities found him this morning a few hours away from here, in his car, which had crashed, tumbled over completely. I don’t know how long he was out there, trapped beneath an entire ton of metal, waiting it out, all alone… I-…” he let out a shaky breath, momentarily closing his eyes in order to centre himself, “the funeral will be held on Monday. That should give people a chance to get here in time.”

“Monday…” James’ unfocused eyes flicked around the room as he tried and failed to breathe in a world without his big brother, “granny will be able to get here in that time… that’s-…” he noticed how his glasses were now completely fogged up by his agonising tears, “she-, she should be here…”

“My dear boy, you know what this means, right?” he exhaled, trying to catch his son’s glistening eyes, “as of last night your life will never be the same. It’s time for you to step up as the next rightful heir to the crown.”

next part

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not-poignant · 2 years ago

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Worldbuilding and Writing Fiction are two separate skills.

Someone reblogged one of my shitposts yesterday (the one about intimidating myself out of worldbuilding) expressing confusion in the tags about how anyone could be intimidated out of writing through worldbuilding too much.

This was kind of baffling to me, because I think I've seen it 50-60 times now, especially with new, ambitious writers who are starting off with deep fantasy or science fiction projects. When you talk to them, they've often sunk months or even years of worldbuilding into the project, but when you ask how far they've come on the fiction side of things, they usually have writer's block, haven't started writing the story, or say they're not ready yet. 'I'm starting soon' is a common refrain. 'I just have a little bit more left to do.'

The main reason for this - I feel - is that worldbuilding and writing are two different skills. Someone who spends 5 years worldbuilding has learned how to get really good at worldbuilding, but that doesn't mean anything about how good their writing will be. Many folks think worldbuilding will automatically make a story better, but sometimes worldbuilding can become unwieldy and stressful, especially in the case of a) entirely new worlds / secondary world fantasy, or b) complex worldbuilding. Definitely not talking about contemporary romance here, lol. (Though no shade to that, I've had a lot of fun worldbuilding for those stories too).

Going from worldbuilding to writing is launching into an entirely new space. If you find writing new stories easy, that won't be a problem for you, in fact you may not even have realised they're too different skills before now.

If you find writing new stories intimidating, sometimes having hundreds or thousands of things about your world to try and constantly remember can feel overwhelming and mess with the executive function needed to start a chapter.

In some cases, worldbuilding can make it much easier to start a story. But it really depends on what you're needing to do. If you're just writing a contemporary story where you need to research two characters and two jobs, you're generally going to be just fine.

If on the other hand, you have the equivalent of a 500 page Wiki behind-the-scenes, it can feel overwhelming very quickly.

New writers fall into this trap the most, I feel. They become accustomed to what worldbuilding feels like, and they hedge on writing the actual fiction, because they just have more experience worldbuilding and keep waiting for their confidence in worldbuilding to become 'confidence in starting the story.' It doesn't work that way. They're different skills.

They might even be better at worldbuilding than writing! But that just means - if they really want to be a writer - that writing is the skill they really need to work on the most. That can be a comfort zone issue too. It can also be a 'only about 5-10% of all this work will ever appear in the story' issue, where folks want to share the worldbuilding more than the characters or plot, and therefore are just not inspired to work on their story. It can be a 'I want this story to be as good as my worldbuilding' issue. It can be a 'I find the worldbuilding part easy' issue. There are lots of reasons people stall out in worldbuilding and then feel intimidated to write the actual story.

This can also happen with established writers who become aware that the more they know about their world, the more they don't know about their world. It can start to feel like - if you write 10 articles for yourself, you end up with 100 more to write. If you write those 100 articles, you have another 300 to write. Worldbuilding never ends. Worldbuilding can be endless, and if you're an immersive writer, you can get lost very easily in the details, or in not knowing what details are critical and what details aren't. (A hint here is that you'll figure that out really fast when you start writing).

Stalling in worldbuilding can be a lot of things, it can tell you that there's something broken in the world, something broken in the story, it can tell you more about your insecurities, it can tell you how good you are at one skill and where you might need practice in another. It's super informative!

But, generally speaking, the advice I tend to give to many new writers is to try not to let your worldbuilding period last too long. Ideally, put a timer on it and see how it feels to start writing your story once the timer has gone off (3 months, 6 months, 3 weeks, put it in your phone or in your calendar, and start the first chapter, or some random scene, once that time is up).

If, after that period of time lapses, you still aren't ready to start your story, something bigger might be going on. It's an opportunity to dig deeper into the situation. And sometimes just ask yourself if you're using the idea of a novel as an excuse to do what you love most: Worldbuilding. If that's the case, there are other jobs you can parlay a solid worldbuilding ability into. It doesn't have to lead to novels. :)

But yeah it's super super common for many writers to stall out between worldbuilding and writing, and to feel overwhelmed by their own worldbuilding.

New writers get affected by it the most based on observation and hanging around writing forums, and the advice that gets asked quite often specifically on 'when do I go from worldbuilding to writing the story,' but established writers experience it too, because as Gene Wolfe once said to Neil Gaiman: "You never learn how to write a novel, Neil. You just learn how to write the novel you are on."

#on writing #on worldbuilding #dodgy advice #worldbuilding and writing are two different skills #and writing one novel in one world #doesn't necessarily teach you how to write another novel in another world #likewise worldbuilding doesn't teach you how to write the novel that will follow #it just gives you a lot of meat for the structure itself #some folks don't notice a difference and never realise they're different skills #some people just notice that worldbuilding makes things easier #and for the rest of us it can definitely be a mixed bag

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ecargmura · 2 months ago

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Dandadan Episode 2 Review - No Balls

It’s hilarious that the story’s plot progression is because Okarun lost his balls and they’re on a mission to get them back. However, as day breaks, the chance to meet Turbo Granny has to be delayed. A few hours have passed since the whole ordeal—can’t you believe that these two only spoke to each other yesterday in the story?

Though, the world of Dandadan intrigues me. How long have these ghosts and aliens been wandering around the world? I’d like to know how aliens have managed to invade Japan so easily given that the Flatwoods Monster easily barged in once Momo took off the talisman from her house. I also wonder about the curse implanted on Okarun. How long can he survive without his balls and does the curse actually lift if he were to retrieve them?

The action scenes were great! I forgot to mention in my review for the previous episode that I really liked how the animators made the fight scene setting completely blue, but occasionally red due to Okarun being cursed. In this episode, the fight scenes were in grayscale due to the Flatwoods Monster trapping them inside his walls. I just think it’s a nice detail in that it amps up the eerie factor in the fight scenes. Colors are still a little consistent with shades of red popping out due to Okarun fusing with Turbo Granny. Why does he look like a modified version of Kaneki from Tokyo Ghoul complete with the same JP VA in Natsuki Hanae? Was this the reason Hanae was casted as Okarun?

I also really liked the banter between Momo and Okarun in the sense that these two have only met yesterday in-universe but already bicker as if they’re long-time friends. I like their dynamic. Momo is blunt and speaks her mind, while Okarun is pessimistic and timid. I do like that even though Momo is a pretty girl, Okarun isn’t simping for her. He just wants a friend and he did all that because he didn’t want to lose the opportunity to gain one. He’s sweet in a way. I just like how they bounce off of each other but also are there for each other when needed. Okarun is hilarious when he becomes his fused form. He just becomes even more depressed and speaks in an odd way.

These two are also very clever in that they figure out what they should be doing without the need to be headless chickens about it. Okarun figures out that he probably needs to control his curse in order to fight back against the alien. Momo knows how to use her psychic powers and is aware of what she needs to do regarding the alien and its fighting style. People might think Momo might be too powerful, but remember that she’s the granddaughter of an exorcist; she probably already knows her stuff because she’s already aware of her surroundings.

On the topic of voice actors, Ryuzaburo Otomo voiced the Flatwoods Monster. From Mayumi Tanaka and Kazuya Nakai to Ryuzaburo Otomo in this episode, this anime is seriously stacked with amazing voice actors. If you’re not familiar with Otomo, he voiced Crocodile in One Piece and Vamdemon in Digimon Adventure. Just how many prominent One Piece voice actors will they cast in this anime?

I honestly can’t wait to see what will happen with Okarun. Since Momo has become unconscious, how will he control his curse? Is this when Momo’s grandma will come into the story? I feel like that’s the only way. What are your thoughts on this episode?

#dandadan #okarun #ken takakura #momo ayase #flatwoods monster #review #anime #anime review #ecargmura #arum journal

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manawari · 3 months ago

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SOLO LEVELING WEEK

Day 6: Soulmates / Cup of Reincarnation

Based on my recent Soulmate AU.

Her death weighed his heart deeper than the heaviest rock. Everyday, Jin-woo got reminded of her lifeless body in the ground, shattering his soul into tiny pieces. He thought that "soulmates" were not real and all fiction as often seen in movies, but when he met Cha Hae-in and slowly found himself falling for her, Jin-woo accepted that it was real. . . But he did not know how painful it would be once he lost her.

Cha Hae-in became a big part of him. So, she brought along the other half of his soul when she left the world. It was truly the worst part of loving someone.

He gave his heart and fate took it away.

For years, Jin-woo witnessed people age and pass away. Him? He remained young. With the loss of the person he wished to grow old with, left him in a curse called immortality. His sister had passed away and his best friend, Yoo Jin-ho, followed shortly. They had each other. Jin-woo had no one, seeking comfort to his mother, who had lost his dad — her soulmate.

The only way for him to retrieve his mortality was to meet his soulmate and fall in love all over again.

His heart clenched. Just how many years would he have to wait? Jin-woo found no reason to be happy anymore. He was alive, but at what cost?

One day, he reached out to the Rulers and requested them to use the Cup of Reincarnation. Restart the whole world. Bring back the people who were once dead. And most of all, give everyone a second chance.

Jin-woo knew he was not the only one. His mother deserved to be with his father once again. Jin-ah would've loved to see her family whole from the afterlife, and Jin-ho would've wanted him to search for Hae-in. He waited long enough, and it hurt him every day, so it was time for him to search his soulmate all while waiting still.

Short, blonde hair and gentle grey eyes. He remembered her looks as if it was yesterday. Her smile was like a ray of sunlight casting through the shadows, radiating warmth to those in her presence, and her heart — strong and kind, withstood against the worst adversaries and battles in her life, becoming her shield as she fought with her sword. It made it impossible to meet a woman like her again.

Jin-woo swore to never make the same mistake twice.

"I'm not sure if that's really him," Yoon-ho sighed, putting down his glass of soju. "That red hair could belong to anyone. But there were too many people walking past me to even notice closely."

"If your instincts are strong, then it could be Choi Jong-in. Though, it might be that you missed him so much that anyone with red hair would be automatically him." Jin-woo said.

"I've mourned him for years, Jin-woo. Jong-in has never left my mind and I never stopped longing."

Jin-woo frowned at Baek Yoon-ho, who had become his close friend amidst their years of being immortals. "You'll meet him soon, hyung. Dungeons no longer exist in this timeline anymore, it will be easier for us to reunite with our soulmates."

"Well, I wish I have some luck. Hee-jin has already met Eun-seok, yet she doesn't know how to get close to him without making it look weird."

He chuckled. "I'm sure she will figure it out. Ju-hee is in a similar situation and she texts me all the time."

"Of course, it's her first time meeting Byung-gyu. She doesn't know how lucky she is to be his soulmate once he falls for her." Yoon-ho playfully shook his head. "Though, aren't you supposed to be envious?"

"I am. Well, quite. But it's not like I am gonna express it to her, am I? Ju-hee's my friend, and I want her to be happy after all she had been through and without worrying about me."

"Someday, it will your turn to be happy, Jin-woo," Yoon-ho smiled. "Hae-in is probably out there, waiting for you as well."

Jin-woo smiled back and nodded, raising his glass. "And I look forward to yours, hyung."

The two men clicked their glasses together and continued to drink as they chattered.

They soon bid their farewell and went to their respective ways. Even though Yoon-ho was uncertain, Jin-woo was glad that he had caught a glimpse of Jong-in, but if it was someone else, at least it would be a sign. Hee-jin had already crossed paths with her soulmate and Ju-hee as well, and sooner or later, she would return to being a mortal. Jin-woo doubted Byung-gyu would take long to fall in love with her.

His mom? Jin-woo had never seen her so happy.

A few months since the Chalice of Rebirth, Kyung-hye had met Il-hwan when she saw a burning apartment on her way home. One of the firefighters noticed her and escorted her safely through the scene. She told Jin-woo how the feeling was similar to back when they were in their youths.

When he returned home, Jin-woo did not know there was a surprise waiting for him.

"Mom! I'm—"

"Jin-woo!" Kyung-hye greeted him from the kitchen.

Jin-woo paused on the doorway, widening his eyes. "Dad?"

"Huh?" Il-hwan flashed him an odd look.

"Oh! S— sorry!" Jin-woo quickly apologized. "It's— uh, I haven't had someone to consider as a father in years. So seeing you with my mom brings out the feeling."

Il-hwan laughed. "It's okay, young man. I still don't have a kid of my own, so I would've mind treating you like one. I have a co-worker whom I treat the same."

Jin-woo chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "So, I assume you and my mom had dinner?"

"Yes. The food is delicious." Il-hwan smiled. "It makes me question my cooking abilities."

"I'm sure yours taste fine, sir. I hope you'll come by here next time."

"Thank you, Jin-woo," Il-hwan ruffled the younger man's hair and walked past him, heading to the door.

Jin-woo watched him leave over his shoulder. Warmth lingered in his chest. Shorter hair fit his dad better, it made him look more human rather than a "Vessel". Kyung-hye finished washing the dishes when he approached the table, seeing the meal she had prepared, causing his stomach to growl.

"Your father visited moments ago," said Kyung-hye. "And he brought flowers!"

Jin-woo let out a grin. "It seems you are becoming a mortal, mom. Dad likes you, which is weird since I'm your child."

Kyung-hye chuckled. "Oh, just think of it as witnessing the love story between your parents, son. So, have you met Hae-in?"

"No. . . "

"I'm sure you'll meet her one day," Kyung-hye made her way toward him and craned his head down to plant a kiss on the side of his head. "Don't give up."

"I've been an immortal for so long, I should be used to waiting forever, but seeing how others finally reuniting with their soulmates makes me feel. . . Lost."

"Jin-woo. . . "

"I know, mom. I have to hold on for a bit longer." Love takes patience. Jin-woo reminded himself. But how was it that he had been patient since forever and he was still yearning?

"So, you were walking out of your apartment when a robber rushed in and snatched your bag?"

"Yes, sir."

"And do you know what the robber looked like?"

"No, sir. He wears a black hoodie and a mask. Oh! He has spikey purple hair too!"

"Okay, miss. We'll just check the surveillance cameras on this block and get right on to it." Woo Jin-chul nodded. "Let's go, Sung."

Jin-woo followed suit, and then suddenly, something caught the corner of his eye. His steps abruptly stopped and he whirled his gaze across the street, eyeing the people strolling around until a particular individual sparked his senses. Golden locks of short hair and an athletic build, carrying a gym bag on her shoulder as she headed to the stairway that led to the train station.

Without a fleeting thought, Jin-woo dashed across the road, not caring about the green light.

"Oi! Detective Sung!"

He ignored Jin-chul's shout as he went to the same path she — Hae-in — took, squeezing through the crowd and brushing off their complaints at him. Other people was the least of his worry because what mattered most was reaching the girl whom he had waited for his entire life.

Don't let her disappear, Jin-woo.

You've waited for this. For her.

She's alive!

Feet squeaked against the floor and Jin-woo looked around through the throng of people in frantic. The second he spotted her again, he dashed and politely shoved people blocking his way, muttering his apologies and thanks despite their cold glares.

At last, he finally reached her. Jin-woo extended his hand and caught her wrist. It was as if the world turned slow, noises stopped, and the only vivid thing he could see was her face. . . Beautiful, soft, and young. Just like the Cha Hae-in he had always known and loved. For once, his heart paused its beating, similar to the way the flowers bloom as the sun glazed down, setting life and beauty throughout the things it touched.

"Uh. . . Do I know you?" Hae-in asked.

"Hi." Jin-woo let out a smile amidst his panting. He let go of her wrist. "I just came to say hi."

She blinked. "Okay. . . ?"

Seeing the discomfort in her eyes, Jin-woo quickly made his next move. "You're Cha Hae-in, right? The celebrity athlete."

"Yeah. . . I am."

"I'm a big fan of you. And— I apologize for catching up on you like this."

"No, it's fine. You seem nice." Hae-in smiled.

Jin-woo's heart swelled. He ducked his head bashfully as if he was a little kid meeting a girl for the first time. Hearing her voice again was like listening to music — his favorite music; the way she warmed up to him after knowing his intentions showed how kind and approachable she actually was.

"May I know your name is?"

Butterflies swarmed and his eyes lit up. "Sung Jin-woo."

And that was the beginning of another love story.

#jinhae + background ships!#solo leveling #solo leveling week 2024 #sung jin woo #cha hae in #jinhae

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