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woso-dreamzzz · 1 month ago

Text

Study

Barcelona Femení x Teen!Reader

Summary: Doing schoolwork while the team is round is not a good idea

The sun patch you were lying in was delightful.

The noise around you, was not.

You opened your eyes blearily, narrowing them to slits in annoyance.

Lucy stared at you and then pointedly turned the tv up in volume, laughing at your disgruntled look.

"Turn it back down," You said.

"No."

"Lucy," You whined," Please turn it down."

"Sorry, kiddo," Keira said as she appeared," But the rest of the team are coming over soon and you've got an essay to write."

You groaned at the reminder but sat up. The whole reason you had taken a nap in the first place was to procrastinate about writing your essay.

"Keira..."

"No, y/n," She said," Part of the agreement we made with your parents was keeping your grades up. I won't make you sit at the kitchen table to write it while the team is round but you have to get it finished today."

You groaned again but relented, grabbing your laptop from where it was charging nearby and pulling up your plan.

Your teammates flooded in through the next hour.

Asisat tapped you on the head as she passed to get to the kitchen. "School work?"

You rolled your eyes. "What gave it away?"

She laughed. "The fact that you've been staring at the screen for nearly twenty minutes and haven't typed a thing."

You darted your eyes across the room to look at Keira, who clearly hadn't noticed. You sent an awkward smile Asisat's way. "Don't tell Keira?"

"Your secret's safe with me."

The more people that arrived, the less you wanted to write your essay. The whole apartment had filled up with noise and even if you wanted to start typing, you were much more interested in hearing Claudia talk about the date she went on with her girlfriend.

You start typing your introduction before deciding you really can't be bothered right now and switch to writing about how Mark Antony's relationship with Cleopatra was the worst thing he could have done from the perspective of other Romans.

You were mindlessly typing and deleting your work when Frido and Aitana joined you on the sofa.

"How is your studying?" Aitana's English was getting much better now that she came around routinely to learn from Keira while you were forced to sit at the table and do your science work.

You gave her a deadpan look. "Oh, just great."

Frido laughed at your sarcasm. "Anything we can help with?"

"Unless you understand the intricacies of Mark Antony and Octavian's war for power after Caesar's death, then no."

Frido pulled a face. "You're studying that?"

"In theory."

Marta and Caro joined a moment later with cans of lemonade and snacks. You snatched up a KitKat quickly, anything to distract you from your next paragraph about Octavian's slanderous propaganda against his rival.

"How is our little student faring?" Marta asked, peering at your screen where you had repeatedly typed out 'I hate this class so much, I wish I could drop out'.

"Not good by the looks of it," Caro said even though it was obvious," What even is this?"

"Ancient Roman politics," Frido replied," It looks very boring."

"It's interesting," You said," Until you have to start writing essays and decide which of these horrible men was better."

"Who is better?" Aitana asked.

"...Octavian, because he won," You replied," But not because he was a better person. This is Rome - if you're not a bad person then are you really an Ancient Roman politician?"

The little group around you burst into laughter and Marta ruffled your hair. "You'll get it finished," She said," You're a smart girl."

Team bonding happened around you for the evening as you mindlessly typed and typed and typed until you were finally finished with your essay.

You stretched out in delight and headed into the kitchen where a to-do list hung on the fridge.

Irene, Sandra and Mariona were already there, studying it curiously as you grabbed a pen from the top of the fridge (standing on your tiptoes to reach it) before you crossed off your Classical Civilisations essay.

"That's a lot of work," Mariona said," This is for the whole month?"

"This is for the week," You replied, taking in her shocked look at your words," But I'm nearly done." You crossed off the Physics homework you finished last night along with the Maths worksheet you got done before practice this morning.

"It gets this bad?" Irene asked," I worry about when Mateo starts school properly."

You frowned. "I'm pretty sure that Mateo getting homework will be doing a drawing rather than writing essays."

"Well, if it helps," Sandra cut in," At least you've finished your essay now! You're free!"

You shook your head and pointed to the only thing Lucy had contributed to your list.

FINISH YOUR FUCKING PSYCHOLOGY ESSAY

"It's about language development in infants," You said, opening the fridge and grabbing some more lemonade.

When you finally made your way back to the living room, your seat had been taken by some of the girls so you ended up sitting in front of the armchair that Ingrid and Mapi had taken refuge on.

Instantly, Ingrid's hands threaded through your hair, massaging your scalp before pulling strands out of your face and pulling them into an intricate braid.

Apart from ever so slightly making you move your head to different positions, you were left mostly alone as you typed away about more research studies using brain imaging.

Mapi shifted behind you and you could tell she was trying to read over your shoulder.

"Why do you need to learn this?" She asked.

"It's interesting," You replied," I thought about doing psychology at uni before Barca signed me. I just hate writing about it."

"It looks boring."

"It's not," You said. Ingrid tied off your new braid and you turned to look at Mapi with a wolfish smile. "Besides, is it boring for you because it hits too close to home? Since you're such a child?"

Mapi swatted at you jokingly, lightly kicking you in the back until you shifted away from her with your laptop.

You refuge came in the form of the pile on the floor in front of the tv. Bruna and Jana welcomed you into the group instantly and you found yourself sandwiched between Ona and Esmee, who were viciously going against each other in FIFA.

"Is your essay finished?" Esmee asked," Keira told me not to text you after practice because you were writing your essay."

"Nearly," You replied," I've just got one more paragraph and then the conclusion. Ona's about to score, by the way."

With your words, Esmee just managed to block the shot as Ona shoved you in annoyance.

Jana and Bruna broke into laughter and peered over your shoulder.

"You used the wrong word," Jana said, pointing to where you had been writing about Piaget.

"It's kind of embarrassing that you're correcting me on my own native language," You said to her even as you corrected yourself.

"Learn Spanish," Bruna said," She makes a lot of mistakes in that."

"No I don't!"

"Yes you do!"

"You so do," Ona said," And y/n, you've got your tenses wrong."

You hadn't even noticed that the match had ended and that Ona was studying your essay until she spoke. Esmee looked over it as well, pointing at another grammar mistake.

You slapped their hands away and pointed to each of you. "Stop it! It'll get spellchecked at the end! You're ruining my creative process!"

"What creative process?" Jana laughed," You're writing an essay!"

"I hate you!" You declared with a laugh," Each and every one of you!" You pointed at them each in turn.

"Don't lie!" Bruna said," You love us."

You bat your eyelashes at her. "Write my essay and you'll have my undying love!"

"No chance!"

You finished your essay soon after without any of their help (although you would be the first to admit that your conclusion wasn't exactly the best) and hurried to cross it off the list, snatching it off the fridge. You sought out Keira in a group of the older girls. You showed her the list.

"I'm done!"

She took it from you, looking it over sceptically.

"And your psychology essay?"

"Yes!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! Keira, promise!"

"She promises, Keira!" Patri mocked your tone with a smile as Claudia and Gemma laughed.

You were one second away from stamping your foot but you refrained because you would never live down the 'little kid' allegations from your teammates if you did so.

"Look at this face!" Gemma said, cupping your cheeks," How could you be mean to this one?"

Keira had a contemplative look on her face.

"Come on, Keira," Claudia said," It's the weekend. We have a match in two days. She's been doing her work since we arrived. Let her have this."

"She could have had it finished before you all arrived if she hadn't taken a nap after practice."

"She's a growing girl!" Patri declared," She needs her nap so she can be big and strong like me when she grows up!"

An arm was thrown over your shoulder and you bit back your retort that the world couldn't handle two versions of Patri.

"Oh...fine, then. y/n go let Narla out of your room and then you're free for the rest of the day."

"Yes!" You pumped your fist into the air and hurried off.

Narla had been shut into your room the moment you came home after Keira watched you play with the little dog instead of doing your homework so she seemed very happy to be free, leaping into your arms like a little princess and making you walk her into the living room.

Salma and Cata intercepted you on the way, cooing over Narla like they had never met her before even though they had.

"It's strange to see you without your laptop," Cata said to you as she tickled under Narla's chin," I thought that it was surgically attached to you or something."

You would have shoved her if you had access to your hands but you didn't so settled for an unimpressed eyeroll. "Ha, ha, very funny. Make fun of my massive workload. I don't see you studying while playing football!"

"You know," Salma said and you already knew she was going to say something to tease you," When I was your age, I didn't have to worry about deadlines because I just did my work the day it got set."

You scoffed. "You're only three years older than me!" You stuck your tongue out at her. "If you want to write my essays for me, Salma, you should have just asked."

Her nose wrinkled in disgust. "That sounds like hell on earth."

You laughed all the way back to the living room, placing Narla on the floor and grabbing some snacks from the table when nobody was looking. You ended up on the floor for the most part, sat by Lucy's chair as the older woman sat above you, occasionally reaching down to feed you chocolate when she was sure Keira wasn't looking. But as it got later in the evening, you ended up migrating onto the sofa with Alexia.

"I heard you finished all your schoolwork for the week," She said as you lazed against her side, watching whatever Spanish soap opera Patri had forced onto the tv.

"Uh-huh." You were only half listening as you dozed off. Her nails scratched lightly at your scalp and the blanket that had been thrown over the pair of you made you feel all cosy and warm.

"Well done, y/n. I'm very proud of you."

"Thank you," You slurred slightly, head dropping to her shoulder as your vision got blurrier and blurrier.

"Are you tired, bebita?"

"No..."

Her chuckle jolted her body slightly but it was a little like the vibrations from being in a car so your eyes just drooped lower. "I think you are."

"Not...Not tired."

"You are. I think all that studying took it out of you."

"No..." You whined slightly and Alexia pulled you in a bit tighter. She manipulated your body in some way you didn't realise because you blinked and suddenly you were lying stretched out with your head in her lap. "I'm...I'm not tired."

You had already missed out on team bonding because of your studying. You didn't want to miss out on any more.

"You are very tired." Alexia's tone was firm but still somehow soothing and her nails drew patterns on your arm comfortingly. "You just need a little nap."

You tried to protest but Alexia's voice just got a bit firmer and a bit more like her captain voice so you knew that you couldn't argue back.

"Come on, bebita. It's nap time for good students like you. I'll wake you up when the food gets here."

#woso x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #barca femeni x reader #barcelona femeni #barca femeni #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

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springtyme · 8 months ago

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heyy love, could you do an aaron hotchner x fem bau reader where they dated in secretly for a while but then he broke up with her. the reason he broke up with her is because he is her boss and that always was something that made him feel doubtful about their relationship. it’s up to you if you want to end it with an happy ending.

thank youu

𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐀𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬 ♡

Thank you so much for the request, dear anon! Such a lovely one and I was so happy to write for Hotch! mwah <3

Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader || Main masterlist || Spotify

summary: You suspect that you've been in love with Aaron Hotchner since you first laid eyes on him three years ago. Now you're on your way to Idaho to go on your first case together since he broke your heart two weeks ago.

word count: 4.5k

warnings/tags: Angst and fluff. Boss/employee relationship. Hurt/comfort. Heartbreak. Kissing. Sharing a bed. (first time I write for Hotch, so please bear with me) Haven't proof read yet. I don't know if I really like how it ended up tbh, but maybe it's just because I was really tired while writing it..?

You keep your gaze on the pages of the book, despite the words keep blurring together and after having read the same paragraph four times over, without even having registered what you have read. You’ve given up on actually getting any reading done, but you don’t want anyone talking to you right now and you still have almost four hours left before you land in Idaho. So you keep eyes glued to the book, hoping that the act of pretending to read will deter any unwanted conversation.

You can feel his eyes on you, not all the time, but you feel how his gaze occasionally lingers on you. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but you sense his presence nonetheless.

Taking in a deep breath you look up from the book to steal a glance in his direction, catching his eye for a brief moment before he looks away. There’s a flicker of something in his expression, a hint of longing that mirrors your own. But just as quickly as it appeared, it’s gone, replaced by the stoic mask he wears so well as he continues his conversation with Derek.

The last two weeks have been painful, filled with a whirlwind of emotions and unanswered questions since Aaron had ended your relationship, before it even had a chance to really begin. It’s been three years since you joined the BAU and from the very beginning you had felt drawn to Aaron Hotchner in a way that defied logic and reason, like there was a connection between you that transcended the professional boundaries of boss and subordinate.

A silly crush is what it had started as, but the more you got to know him, the more you realized that what you felt was far more than just that. It was a deep, undeniable attraction, a connection that went beyond the surface level. And as time passed, that initial spark grew into something more profound, something that stirred your soul and filled your heart with warmth.

Sometimes you had let yourself hope that he felt the same way, that the moments of shared glances and unspoken words between you held a deeper meaning, but you had never dared act on it, or let yourself get your hopes up too high. The reality of Aaron’s position as your boss and the boundaries it imposed had always stood as a barrier. The unspoken rules of professionalism, the fear of risking his or your career and the harmony of the team had kept your feelings hidden, buried beneath layers of duty and obligation.

It was three months ago that things had changed between you. It had been a moment of vulnerability, a shared confession during a late-night conversation with the raw emotions of the aftermath of an exceptionally harrowing case that had laid bare the depths of your emotions, and the longing that had simmered beneath the surface for so long had reached a point of no return.

He had kissed you that night and it was sweet and tender, yet charged with unspoken desire and desperation. It was a moment of surrender, a brief glimpse into a world where the barriers between you could be broken down and the feelings you had both been suppressing could be allowed to flourish.

The next couple months had been a whirlwind of stolen moments and whispered confessions, each one deepening the bond between you in ways that words could never fully capture. There were secret meetings in secluded corners of the BAU office, stolen kisses in the quiet of the night, and shared glances that spoke volumes without a single word being uttered.

But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, a shadow began to loom over your newfound connection. Aaron had started to act distant and reserved, his once warm and affectionate demeanor now replaced by a noticeable aloofness. And two weeks ago on a night where the both of you had stayed late to finish some reports he had told you that it all had been a mistake, and that the two of you should maintain a strictly professional relationship moving forward.

His words had cut through the air with a sharp finality and landed like a heavy blow, shattering the fragile hope that had still lingered within you. Aaron’s eyes had been averted, unable to meet your gaze as he spoke the words that shattered your heart.

You steal another glance at Aaron, watching as he maintains his composure in conversation with Derek, his mask of professionalism firmly in place.

You turn back to your book, the words still a jumbled mess on the page. You can’t pretend to read anymore, not when your heart is heavy with memories and unspoken words. With a sigh, you close the book, making Emily, who is seated across the aisle, glance up from the case file she is reading with a questioning look.

You offer her a faint smile, attempting to convey a sense of normalcy despite the turmoil swirling within you.

“You okay?” she asks as she sets aside the case file. You appreciate her gesture, knowing that Emily’s intuition often went beyond words.

You take a moment to collect your thoughts, the weight of unspoken emotions pressing down on you. With a small nod, you offer Emily a reassuring smile, though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just a lot on my mind,” you reply softly, the words carrying a weight that belie their simplicity.

Emily nods in understanding, her gaze holding a sense of sympathy. “He’s an idiot, by the way,” she says with a wry smile, and you feel how your heart stops for a second, panicking at the thought of Emily uncovering the truth of what has unfolded between you and Aaron.

“What do you mean?” you stammer, the words tumbling out before you can stop them, your heart pounding in your chest as you wait for Emily’s response.

Emily just smiles at you as she picks up her file again. “We’re profilers, it’s not hard to read between the lines,” Emily says with a knowing glint in her eyes, her smile reassuring and understanding. “And you’re not as hard to read as you think, it’s clear that you have been dating someone, you have been looking like a smitten kitten for months, it’s been really cute to see, by the way, but something has changed recently. You’ve been distant, and often lost in thought sulking,” Emily continues, her tone gentle yet perceptive.

It’s not like it really surprises you, given how perceptive Emily is, and how deeply you’ve been feeling the shifts in your relationship with Aaron, but you had still hoped that you could have hidden your feelings from colleagues.

“So, yeah, whoever he is that has you feeling like this is an idiot, you’re clearly a catch,” Emily says with a reassuring smile, her words carrying a sense of warmth and understanding.

You feel relief wash over you, though Emily has sensed that you’ve been heartbroken, she hasn’t figured out that it is your boss that has been the course of it.

“Thanks, Em,” you say, offering the dark haired woman a tired but grateful smile.

Emily returns your smile. “If you ever need to talk or just... not talk, I’m here,” she offers, her voice warm and reassuring.

“I appreciate that,” you say, and you do really mean it, but you know that you’re not ready to talk about any of this yet. “But I think I’ll try to take a nap first, hopefully clear my head a bit before we land.”

“Mm, sounds like a plan,”Emily responds with a soft chuckle.

Grabbing the blanket from the empty seat next to you, you lean back in your seat, engulfing your body in the soft, fluffy material.

Before closing your eyes you cast one last glance at Aaron, his profile etched against the soft glow of the cabin lights. The memories of stolen moments with stolen kisses floods your mind, mingling with the ache of his recent rejection. You feel a pang in your heart, a mix of longing and sorrow, as you turn away, curling up in your seat, closing your eyes to the world outside.

You pull the blanket closer around you, the soft warmth of the blanket envelops you, cocooning you in a sense of comfort and security, providing a shield against the turmoil of your heart. The gentle hum of the airplane engines lulls you into a state of relaxation, the rhythmic sound serving as a soothing backdrop to your thoughts and emotions.

As you feel yourself drifting further into the realm of sleep, your senses start to weaken, the sounds of the airplane cabin fading into a distant murmur and you barely register the tears gently sliding down your cheeks before you drift off.

· · · · ·

You’re softly pulled out of sleep by the gentle touch of a hand on your shoulder. As you slowly flutter your eyes open, the soft glow of the cabin lights illuminates the figure beside you.

“Hey, sleepyhead, we’re about to land,” Derek’s voice is warm and filled with a hint of amusement as he gently rouses you from your slumber.

You blink a few times, the remnants of sleep still lingering in your mind as you adjust to the reality of the present moment. With a small smile, you offer Derek a nod of gratitude. Slowly, you sit up in your seat, the blanket slipping off your shoulders as you get ready for touchdown.

As the plane begins its descent, you feel a mix of emotions swirling within you - longing, sorrow, and a hint of resignation. The turbulence of your heart echoes the turbulence in the jet cabin as you start dissenting onto a lower altitude.

As the cabin lights dim in preparation for landing, you look up to find Aaron’s eyes looking in your direction, his gaze briefly meeting yours before he looks away, a shadow covering his features in the soft glow. This would all be so much easier if he would stop looking at you all the time.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions as the plane continues its descent. The mix of longing and sorrow in your heart feels almost suffocating, but you push it aside. You have to focus, have to keep your head clear for the sake of the case, you are a professional and you are not going to let your emotions cloud your mind. As the wheels touch the runway with a slight jolt, signaling your arrival in Idaho, you

And as the team disembarks from the plane and makes their way to the awaiting SUVs, you feel a sense of resolve settling within you, happy to no longer be confined to the limited room of the jet cabin and as you step out into the crisp evening air, you release a sigh of relief.

You watch Aaron walk ahead of you, his posture rigid and his expression unreadable as he walks to one of the cars and you beeline for the other. You keep your gaze fixed outside the window for most of the car ride, watching the landscape pass by in a blur as the car speeds towards its destination, a little sleepy town about an hour away.

As you and the team arrive at the local police station, you can feel the tension between you and Aaron simmering just beneath the surface. The case at hand requires your full attention, and you push aside the turbulent thoughts and emotions that threaten to consume you as you focus on the task at hand.

Throughout the evening and early night, you work alongside the team, profiling the unsub and piecing together clues to hopefully catch the unsub before they strike again. The familiarity of the work, the rhythm of profiling and investigating grounding you in the present moment, making you go into a state of laser focused professionalism. You find a sense of purpose in the work you do, a reminder that you are more than the turmoil of your emotions.

But as the night wears on, the team regroups at the hotel to get a few hours of sleep before continuing the investigation in the morning. You find yourself standing outside the small hotel, looking up at the dark, star lit sky and as you turn to head inside and join the rest of the team, you feel your heart do a little jump in your chest as you see Aaron standing a few feet away, his gaze fixed on you, his usual stoic expression faltered, his brown eyes softening as they meet yours.

For a moment, the world around you seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you standing in the quiet night, and suddenly, you know that the decision you have made to the hard choice you’ve struggled with for the past two weeks is the right one.

Without saying a word, you walk towards him, a mix of uncertainty and determination coursing through you. As you come to a stop in front of him, he opens his mouth to speak, but you raise a hand to silence him. “Not here,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper, and you gently take his hand, leading him towards a secluded corner of the hotel grounds.

As you come to a stop, you turn to face him, the dim light of the night casting shadows across his face. With a heavy sigh, you search his eyes for any sign of the man you once knew, the man who had kissed you with such tenderness and held you with such care, the man you think might’ve even loved you. You had loved him, had long before he kissed you, and you still love him.

“Aaron, I…” you begin, trailing off as you feel all the words in your head leave you as you look into his eyes, remembering that night he had kissed you for the first time. It had been a late night just like this one, it had been the first time you had ever called him by his first name.

“Let’s sit,” he says, his voice gentle yet strained, as he guides you to a nearby bench. You both sit in silence for a moment, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily between you. Finally, Aaron speaks, his voice raw with emotion. “I’m sorry for hurting you, for leading you on, for... for everything.” His words are filled with regret, and you can see the pain in his eyes, a pain that mirrors your own.

He reaches out his hand, hesitating before resting it on yours. His touch is soft and hesitant but filled with unspoken longing and you feel how your heart skips a beat, how you have missed the feeling of him touching you, even if it’s just the slightest of touches.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he says, his voice now barely above a whisper.

‘But it did hurt, it hurt so, so much’, is what you want to say. But as you look into Aaron’s eyes, filled with regret and vulnerability, you find yourself unable to form the words, the intensity in the warm, chocolate brown depths of his gaze rendering you speechless. You see the conflict within him, the turmoil of emotions swirling beneath the surface, and you feel the need to avert your gaze.

You look down at his hand on yours, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down your spine in the balm night air. For a moment, you allow yourself to savor the familiar sensation, the connection that still linger between you despite the circumstances.

Aaron’s hand tightens slightly around yours, a silent plea for understanding. “You deserve so much better than that,” he murmurs, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand.

You take a deep breath, the words forming in your mind before you speak them out loud. “Maybe I don’t want you to decide for me what I do and don’t deserve,” you say, looking up at him again, your voice steady despite the feelings swirling within you. Aaron’s eyes widen slightly at your words, a mix of emotions crossing his features.

Now it’s his turn to be lost for words, which for some reason seems to give you a bit more courage. You fill your lungs with another deep breath before opening your mouth.

“I’m quitting,” you declare, your voice firm and resolute. You’ve been struggling with making the decision, but as you look at Aaron now, face lit up by the soft moon light you know that it is the only decision for you, you are never gonna be able to let him go if you keep working for the BAU. “I’m turning in my resignation letter when we get back from this case.”

Aaron’s eyes widen in shock, his grip on your hand tightening even more as he processes your words. The weight of your statement hangs heavy in the air between you, the unspoken implications of what this means for both of you settling in. You can see how a myriad of emotions flicker across his face – surprise, concern, and perhaps a glimmer of something else that you can’t quite place.

“You can’t do that,” Aaron’s voice is firm but filled with a mix of concern and resignation, his gaze searching yours for any sign of doubt

You can’t help but feel a pang of hurt at his words, it’s not like you had expected him to be happy about your decision, but a little, and probably naive, part of you had hoped that he would acknowledge that it would be the solution to how the two of you could be together, hoped that he still wanted that. But you’re not leaving the BAU for the slim chance that you can be with Aaron. You’re quitting because it’s become clear to you that it is the only solution. If the only time you can push aside the pain of being around him is when you’re actively investigating a violent crime case, you have to let him go, and you can only do that by leaving the BAU.

“Yes, I can… I have to, I think,” you say firmly, yet you feel your heart breaking a little by the thought of leaving. “I need to do this for myself. For my own well-being,” you continue, your gaze unwavering as you look into his eyes. “I can’t keep pretending that everything is okay when it’s not.”

Aaron remains silent for a moment, his expression unreadable as he processes your words. Finally, he sighs, a hint of resignation in his voice. “I never wanted it to come to this,” he admits, his voice heavy with regret.

“I know,” you reply softly, a tinge of sorrow coloring your words. “But we both knew the risks when we started this.”

“I should never have put you in this position,” Aaron says, his gaze dropping to the ground as he speaks. “I should never have kissed you that night. Ilet my own feelings cloud my judgment, and I hurt you in the process. I’m your boss, and I took advantage, and I-I hurt you, and…”

“No, look at me, please.” You reach out and gently cub his cheek in your hand, making him meet your gaze. “Aaron, it wasn’t just you. I wanted it too, I wanted to be with you,” you confess, your voice breaking slightly with emotion. “I wanted to take the risk because I thought it was worth it. And maybe it was, for a while. But we can’t keep going like this, Aaron. It’s not fair to either of us.”

Aaron’s eyes search yours, a mix of emotions swirling within their depths. “What are you saying?” he asks softly, his voice filled with a hint of desperation.

“I’m saying that I need to let you go,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “I need to let go of this hope that maybe someday we could find a way to be together. I can’t keep holding on to something that’s only causing us both pain.” Tears gather in the corners of your eyes as you speak, the weight of your decision pressing down on you. But despite the pain, you feel a sense of clarity wash over you, a sense of liberation in finally speaking the truth.

Aaron’s eyes soften, his hand coming up to gently grasp yours that’s still cupping his cheek. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers, his voice filled with regret and sorrow. You offer him a sad smile, tears finally spilling down your cheeks as you lean forward to press a soft kiss to his cheek before pulling away.

“Me too, Aaron,” you say softly, your voice filled with a mix of love and heartbreak. As you stand up from the bench, you turn to walk away, the weight of your decision settling in your heart. But before you can take a step, you feel a hand grasp yours, stopping you in your tracks. You turn back to see Aaron standing before you, his eyes filled with determination and a hint of something you can’t quite place.

“I...I can’t let you leave without saying this,” Aaron begins, his voice wavering slightly. “I’ve been a fool. I’ve let my own fears and insecurities cloud my judgment, and in the process, I’ve hurt you. But I can’t let you go without telling you that I love you. ”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the depth of his confession washing over you like a wave. For a moment, you feel a flicker of hope ignite within you, a spark of possibility that maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance for the two of you. “But what does that mean, Aaron?” you ask softly, your voice filled with a mix of hope and trepidation. “What are you saying?”

Aaron takes a deep breath, his gaze unwavering as he speaks. “I’m saying that I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to live with the regret of letting you slip away. I want to fight for a future where you are a part of my life. I know it won’t be easy, I know there are risks and complications, but I can’t let you go without at least trying cause I love you.”

Tears stream down your cheeks as you look into Aaron’s eyes, the sincerity and love shining within them filling your heart with warmth and longing. Taking a step closer to Aaron, you reach out to cup his face in your hands, meeting his gaze with determination.

“I love you, too. I think I’ve loved you from the moment I met you.”

Aaron’s eyes widen in surprise, a mix of emotions flickering across his features. Without another word, he closes the distance between the two of you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss filled with passion and longing. The world falls away as you melt into each other, lost in the moment of shared love and desire as the man you love kisses you under the moonlight.

The kiss deepens, becoming a promise of the future you both want to fight for, a pledge to overcome the obstacles that stand in your way, a balm for the weeks of heartbreak. And as you break apart, breathless and filled with emotion, you feel how your entire body shivers, already missing the feeling of Aaron’s warm lips against yours.

“You’re freezing,” Aaron frowns, quickly shredding himself of his suit jacket and draping it around your shoulders before wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. “Let’s get you inside.”

You nod, your heart swelling with hope and love as he takes your hand in his, leading you back to the hotel. Hotel might be a little generous; it’s more of a bed and breakfast, with so few rooms that the team had to pair up and share, but it was the only accommodation in town and it is not like you and the team aren’t used to having to share rooms from time to time.

It turns out the rest of the team has already paired up and hit the hay, leaving only one room since you’re the last two to arrive. “Looks like you and I’ll have to share a room,” you say, a small smile playing on your lips, an hour ago you would be horrified by it, but now you’re absolutely thrilled about it.

“Yeah, looks like it,” he says with a soft smile on his face as you get your keys before taking your hand in his again and leading you to your shared room.

As you step inside, the warmth of the room envelops you, melding with the warmth of Aaron’s touch as he pulls you into his arms, his lips finding yours once more in a sweet, tender embrace. In the dim light of the hotel room, with the moon casting a soft glow through the curtains, the emotions swirling within you are no longer suffocating, but freeing, as you surrender to the love that has bound the two of you together.

As you finally break apart and look around it turns out that the room is a twin room, with two beds divided by a bedside table. It makes sense that your coworkers didn’t leave you to share a room with a shared bed.

You share a knowing look with him before the both of you start to quickly get ready for bed, it’s late and you’re both exhausted and there is only a few hours till you’ll need to get up again.

You share one last kiss before moving to your respective beds, but as you lay there, the distance between you feels unbearable. The man you have been pining over for three years has just a little while ago told you that he loves you after weeks of heartbreak and he lies so close yet you can’t even touch him? That’s ridiculous!

“I can’t do this,” you whisper, your voice filled with longing as you look at Aaron.

“I know,” he replies, his voice just as filled with yearning as he pulls his covers to the side letting you slip into the bed with him.

You settle into his arms, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, and you feel as if you’re finally coming home. The walls that had been built between you are crumbling down, allowing you to embrace the love that has always been between you.

As you snuggle closer to Aaron, his arms wrapped tightly around you, you feel a sense of peace wash over you. The turmoil of the past weeks fades away, replaced by a deep sense of contentment and love.

“I’m never letting you go again,” Aaron whispers, his breath warm against your ear, and you know that he means it. And you know that you never want to let him go either.

With a smile on your face, and your heart full of love and hope, you drift off to sleep in the arms of the man you love, knowing that no matter what challenges lie ahead, you will face them together.

2K notes · View notes

1uvtae · 9 months ago

Text

i think i just saw my ex. | jeon jungkook

★ word count: 10k- yay!

★ genre: classic exes to lovers,,,with slightly suggestive smut,,,and fluff...and the typical mutual pinning that may be a tad (a lot) angst... also TENSION. SOO MUCH TENSION!!!!! and both y/n and jungkook are trying to play hard to get which might be a bit crack up!!!

★ summary/snippet: jeon jungkook is your ex from many years ago, and you think you might've just seen him in a bar…and a part of you is definitely craving him.

★ kae's little chat: playing the typical kae exes to lovers theme, cos all i write about is exes to lovers micro-fics!! (this might be the only thing i'm good at writing) I recently just bought this glazed donut lanolips lip balm and it is what I religiously used while writing this fic for a whole ass week and I hope this fic tastes and smells like glazed donuts to you guys too ;) also a quick tag for @cassies-cookies!!! the fic has arrived!!!

enjoy a little teaser before you start!! can i consider this as an appetizer??

do you want to give me some feedback? request something fun? chit chat with me?!

this is my masterlist and drabble list for more of my works!

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

you are 99.9% sure you just saw your ex.

you can't add that 0.1% on because 1) it is so darn dark in this bar, the annoying flashing lights poking through your eyes and into your soul, and 2), you are drunkenly intoxicated right now.

but gosh, that side profile looks almost identical to him. you've tried to follow him with your gaze, but all you got to closely view was the back of his head. (the very familiar back of his head, may you add.)

this isn’t something you expected on a nice friday evening.

when you randomly woke up in the middle of the night, you realised you typed quite some texts and paragraphs to that familiar number of his, but it seemed like you were way too drunk to hit “send”. thank god.

blank-eyed, staring at the unsent texts, you felt a stinging pain in your chest.

you’re not the type to go back to any of your exes, and all your break-ups have been straightforward and savage. plus, you dumped him first!!!

you sit up on your bed, finger tracing over the floral details of your quilt cover. maybe it was because your partners after him have all been so lame, yes definitely that. additionally, you’ve been very single and lonely for the past few months, that’s exactly why you are missing him.

he wasn’t the perfect boyfriend, you remember how childish he was, and was quite protective over you- which was one of the reasons you two didn’t end well.

but on the other hand…

he was a really good sex partner. you two mended flawlessly together. not to boost his ego or something, but that boy definitely can fuck.

you sighed loudly, pulling the covers over your head. the night is still so long, but you do not have any of the calmness to fall back into sleep.

oh, the long, dark night.

after a whole day of debating and contemplating, you ended up hanging out with a few of your friends back at that specific bar. tonight, you needed someone to get your mind off your ex that you saw yesterday.

when excusing yourself to the bathrooms, you brushed past someone's shoulder in the hallways while scrolling through your instagram feed; he had a broad and tall frame, and his vividly tattooed hand holding a glass cup, and you felt the urge to jerk your head back to see his face.

thinking “this is someone to take my mind off him!!”, you turn your head and your wild imagination completely halts. you feel your eyes widen and your pupils might as well fall onto the ground - it’s your ex.

thank god you just got your hair done a few days back and you were head down, focusing on your phone the whole time, so he didn’t even glance at you. your heart completely dropped and skipped a beat, and you rushed into the bathroom to freshen up.

after you walked out of the restroom, you carefully scanned every table for his silhouette, after locating the target, you walked a good lap around his booth to eye him out. fairly, he wasn’t hard to look for, judging by his clean undercut under those dark brown locks, and his perfect complexions, everyone seemed to notice him the way you did. you spot two girls walking up to him, offering him drinks in exchange for his number.

you were now more than certain that this was your ex… and you’re also certain that you’ll never get over how attractive he is.

once you’ve fallen for jeon jungkook, you’ll never fall out.

on the way home you remembered how hard you worked to get him to date you, it was almost rejection after rejection. and then you dumped him?! gosh, now it will be even more difficult to get his attention.

you feel like giving up instantly at that thought, but you cannot help yourself texting your mutual friend yerin: “did jungkook come back?”

your friend did not respond, which leads to whatever you’re doing right now - sitting on your couch, stalking through social media accounts. it was not under his old username, which made it difficult to find. but you remembered his dog’s name.

after typing bam’s name into the search bar, it only took a few scrolls to find a decent amount of photos and videos of the brown doberman. after clicking into his account, you sigh. he never posts himself, just some more dog posts and a few random scenery shots.

continuing to watch every single video of bam, you see that the newest video of the cute dog was taken in another location that didn’t look like the place from the video from before. clicking on the comments, one from his friend reads “you moved?” he replied: “yeah”

you moved, or did you come back?

just realizing what you’ve been doing stupidly for the last 20 minutes, you lock your screen and toss your phone onto the coffee table. your friend responded right after the phone dropped onto the surface.

“yeah, he quit his job last month, he probably came back”

did he quit his job?

although he moved to a different city after the breakup, he still worked for the same company you worked for - that could’ve been a reason to reconnect. but now that he has quit that job, it makes it impossible for you to even have an excuse to hit him up.

yerin double-texted, “what’s up abt jungkook?”

you: i think i saw him recently

you: he’s still so fine

yerin understood your tone extremely well, responding immediately: do you want me to plan a group dinner or something this week

you: yes please, i’m free every night this week

yerin: y/n, i meant ONLY group dinner…nothing else.

you: of course just dinner…what were you thinking?

yerin: i know you way too well

yerin: you obviously don’t only want dinner

you: hm

yerin was very speedy with her planning skills, the dinner was booked to be this friday night, it wasn’t weird at all since you and jungkook did have the same social circle for years, and considering he just came back, it was just more of a couple of friends and coworkers gathering together to celebrate. but yerin did not hint to him that you were also going to attend this dinner at all.

you stood in front of the mirror, your outfit was carefully picked out, and you spent almost 2 hours doing your makeup- in these years, your style has changed drastically, but you still wore the same fragrance he gifted you.

to create your ‘grand entrance’, you decided to show up late by 20 minutes, just so you can look casual and not too prepared to see jungkook. when you were on the road, you received a speedy text from yerin: be mentally prepared for what’s coming.

huh? be prepared for what?

when you were led to the table of the reservation, you realized what she meant.

you recognised every single face, except one. there was an unfamiliar girl seated right next to jungkook. jungkook wore a casual black hoodie, his hair slightly fluffing out. looking almost too soft to touch. you tried very hard not to lay your eyes on him for too long - since you already got a very personal look from the girl that was seated next to him.

yerin mutters under her breath when you seat yourself next to her, which is right across him. “he brought that random girl over.”

you keep that in mind, starting to greet your friends, then shooting a look back at yerin, then whispering “if you told me this was gonna happen i would’ve turned around on the spot and sprinted back home!!!”

(yerin did tell you after the meal that the second you walked into the room, there were almost no expressions on his face. you don’t know if he was already expecting you, or if he just did not care about you whatsoever.)

you hope it’s not the second option.

the dinner was french cuisine, everyone had already ordered some sort of grilled steak while you decided to order sole fish fillets. sipping your chardonnay, you oversee the girl nudge jungkook’s arm, softly asking, gesturing at your transparent drink: “kook, what did that girl order?” he puts his glass down, responding with a gentle tone: “white wine. you pair white wine with fish. wine with red meats.” “so that's why you ordered red wine for me?” she nods before asking again.

“mhm.” he nods in response, taking a sip of water, with his very charming and endearing smile.

you almost knock over your wine glass when slamming it back down on the table with aggression, suddenly this chardonnay tastes like fucking ass.

you listen quietly to everyone talking about careers and how they’ve been doing recently, jungkook occasionally opens his mouth to input or say something. you realize how mature he has grown over these years, he speaks like a logical, grown man, and is completely not the person you were with a while back. you remember the old gatherings when you and he were dating - he barely says a word during the whole meal. not going to lie, this well-spoken jungkook is super attractive.

the main course came very fast after the drinks. you gasp at the fancy plating. the girl in front of you takes her knife and fork, struggling to slice the red meat. she slowly glances over to jungkook, and he notices her stare, speedily finishing up cutting up his plate, and offering her his already perfectly sliced steak, taking her uncut serving for himself.

after that, you put down the knife and fork, containing yourself to not roll your eyes.

that was an eyeful. might as well just not eat this shitty meal.

after that awful meal, they all planned to go for a second round, but jungkook said that he couldn’t go because he had to drive the girl home. after hearing that, you lost every interest you had in going for shots, which caused you to head straight home on a friday evening at 9 pm. how eventful.

taking a thoughtful and steamy shower, you decided to put a face mask on. a notification from no other than yerin broke the night’s silence.

yerin: jungkook’s here

you bounced up from your bed, replying within a millisecond.

y/n: huh? why is he there?

yerin: he’s sitting on the table next to ours

yerin: u coming?

you close your eyes, every single imagination you had got crushed today when you saw the girl that he brought. it was almost hurtful now that you think about it.

yerin continued to add: he didn't bring the girl, if that’s what you’re wondering

hm…you hesitated for a while, but gave up. you can’t be interested in someone with a girlfriend-

yerin: and!! tae was being nosy so he asked him

yerin: turns out that the girl was just a blind date his mum arranged

yerin: not his gf

yerin: u still have a chance yk!!

you yanked the face mask off, rushing to redo your makeup again. you didn’t even bother to drive there, calling an uber instead. before entering the bar, you ensured yerin grabbed jungkook to sit at the same table.

just when everything was planned beautifully and you were ready to make your grand entrance pt2, you bumped into a client who was by the bar table. how can you reject a business client? quick answer: you can’t. it’s a business client.

having to sit with a stranger by the bar table, but unable to walk to that table with your friends (and your ex) might be the biggest struggle you’ve ever gotten yourself into. by the time you and the client had finished chatting and drinking, jungkook had left not only the table but the entire nightclub.

oh my gosh, you are going to lose your mind! a whole full stomach of alcohol and yet you still haven’t gotten to use your flirting tactics on your ex that you’ve been missing. you did not feel like staying at all, dragging yerin to get out of this hellhole.

but who knew you’d see him again in the parking lot?

every cloud has a silver lining.

and there jungkook stood, leaning against his flashy black mercedes, phone to his ear. the second you saw him, you knew what to do. you were going to fake being drunk. you link arms with yerin, stumbling your steps and attempting to slur your words. yerin has to straighten you up manually when she goes over to jungkook. “hey jungkook! i thought you already left.” jungkook puts the phone back into his pocket. “i was just about to.”

yerin wasn’t hesitant at all, almost shoving you at him, thinking he’d help grab onto you, but he did not move a single muscle. her last resort was to lean you against the car. “perfect! can you drive y/n home? the girls are still waiting for me so…”

he opened his mouth to speak, you figured he was going to reject yerin. before a single sound came out of his mouth, yerin quickly interrupted him, “amazing! thanks so much, dude!! okayimjustgonnago-!” from your peripheral vision, you could see her almost sprint from the parking lot back into the front door of the club.

all that was left was you, who was faking drunk, and jungkook, with his brows, knitted, looking down at you.

judging from how rapidly yerin ran away from you, jungkook knows he can’t do anything else other than drive you home. he sighed and held open the passenger’s door for you. he raised his chin, gesturing you to hop in.“get in yourself.” he heard you chuckle at his words, turning to him and giving him a judging glance, then getting into the seat.

jungkook was extremely confused, and only realized the reason when he got into the driver's seat.

you seemed to not let that joke go, “i’m in, what now?” jungkook keeps a straight face while starting the engine. “seatbelt.”

he drove out of the parking lot, and he immediately hit a left turn, driving towards the direction of your house. after a few moments, he turned his head towards her at a red light. “where do you live?” your eyes were shut, leaning back on the seat, not wanting to respond to him.

jungkook does not want you to know that he still remembers your address off by heart like an idiot, so he turns into a random street on his right and keeps on driving. after feeling the car stopping, you open your eyes, peeking out the window.

the hotel?? he drove you to a hotel?? you kept your eyes shut, as a silent protest to not get out of the car. you knew jungkook too well, he probably wanted to just leave your ass in the hotel, and you won’t get to ever see him again if you went with that.

jungkook nudges you with a finger hesitantly. you didn’t even budge. after a deep sigh from the man in the driver's seat, you hear the engine start again.

he always drove at a perfect steady pace. you swear you almost dozed off when you felt the car stop in the underground parking garage.

jungkook gently held onto you up the elevator, you heard the sound of a door unlocking, and your ears perked up when the sound of the door opening was followed by a loud bark from bam.

he brought you back to his place. that perfectly goes with your plan!!

you behaved the entire way home just for this moment. all that acting led up to this moment. he locked the front door, then squatted in front of you to help you take off your black heels. you were going to be using the moment wisely- when jungkook carried you over to the couch to put you down, you scratched his lower torso aggressively with your right hand.

it was a strong scratch, causing the person carrying you to let a harsh hiss under his breath. he looked down at your sharply shaped nails, then at the girl in his hands right now, your eyes were shut, lashes slightly fluttering.

he always liked working out and had an almost daily streak of hitting up the gym, resulting in his body being super in shape. he had the perfect model figure- abs, pecs, shoulders, you name it. he has it. you look back on how great he was at using his strength advantage in bed, gosh, he was perfect.

even being able to leave a little scratch on his skin could do something to you right now.

jungkook goes straight into the kitchen to pour you a cup of water. the first thing he did though, was lift up his hoodie and inspect the scratch. and under the hoodie, lay two vivid red scratch marks on his lower abdomen. the bright marks went from his veins into his spank bank, the vivid images of you under his control, he reminisces how you always loved scratching his back, his neck, and his shoulders when he hit your soft spots. jungkook’s skin was always very sensitive, making it effortless to leave marks and bruises for days. he recalls his friends making fun of the scratch marks you left on his back ever so often during the few summers when you and he were dating.

by the time he recollected himself and brought you the glass of water, you were already fast asleep on his leather couch. he watches you for a while and realizes you still look the same after this many years. more mature, but still the appearance he could never forget, even in his dreams. his eyes fall on your delicate ears before he puts a stop to his mind.

he clears his throat. “go sleep in the bedroom.”

your eyelashes flutter as you turn to face the other side of the couch, mumbling something inaudible to yourself before getting back into your dreamland.

jungkook: “y/n?”

his ears catching a delicate airy whine leave your mouth.

jungkook isn’t too fond of whatever game you are playing, but he knows what you want to do to him. he’s matured and grown now, not the loverboy that was wrapped around your pinky finger anymore. he can read expressions off your face very accurately. considering the fact that it has been years since the breakup, and you had never broken the non-contact thing.

and suddenly after he got back into town, a reuniting dinner was planned, you showed up to the clubs, and whatever yerin was trying to do, and now- you are in his house, on his couch. he knows exactly what you’re trying to do.

this is exactly the little tricks you used to play, and he fell head-first into it last time.

he promised himself that he would never fall into the same hole twice!

but of course, he won’t let you sleep on his couch for the whole night. this two-seater leather couch is extremely small for anyone to find comfort in. your figure is curled up in the soft seats, and he notices your legs almost dangling out from the couch.

he bends down to swoop you up, and by instinct, your arms find his neck. he slowly makes his way towards the bedroom, not wanting to wake up the girl in his arms.

considering this was a brand-new apartment, jungkook doesn’t have a bed yet- it’s just a mattress in the middle of the floor. he lowers his body carefully and places you in the centre of the bed, thinking your arms would instantly unwrap themselves from your neck, he tries to stand back up. but your grip on him was way too tight, jungkook almost lost his balance, but his reaction was fast enough for him to use his arm strength to hold on both sides of the bed, keeping a small dangerous distance from falling on top of you. his warm breath lands on your exposed neck, and you feel the warmth melting on your collarbones.

you had to keep everything within yourself to not pull him closer, hoping he would find his balance to move away from you, instead, it’s almost as if he bowed his head lower, leaving more burning breath marks on your collarbones. the itchy feeling almost numbing. you couldn’t help but slightly peel your eyes open discreetly- through your lashes, you realise he was already on his feet again, simply pulling the covers up for you.

the soft quilt falls on top of your lower torso, and his warm hand ‘accidentally’ brushes against your thigh before he completely gets up. he watches your reaction for a short while, but nothing from your side. he knew if it this was two years ago, you would’ve absolutely gone for it right now. he remembers even if his hand slightly rested on your thigh while driving, you would immediately get him to pull up on the side of the road for a heated makeout session. but it looks like, y/n is not the y/n he remembered.

jungkook turned off the big light, leaving a small night lamp on by the bedside table before patting bam to follow him back to the living room, planning to deal with the couch for the night.

honestly speaking, if he stayed for even one more single second, you wouldn’t be sure what you’re capable of doing to him.

painful, very painful.

it was almost 4 am when you opened your eyes, trying to adjust to the dim lighting of the room. your eyes land on the agape bedroom door. from where you’re resting, you can clearly see most of the living room. there he lay, on the couch.

jungkook normally sleeps just in his boxers, but considering the fact that you’re in the residence, he had to grab a pair of sweats to cover up. you observe the man on the couch, he is lying on his back, and you end up studying his figure. you could tell he was wearing nothing under those grey sweats- gosh the grey sweats and his shirtless body?!

you shut your eyes and sigh. contain yourself y/n.

if you weren’t already, you’re surely hungry for jeon jungkook now.

but you must control yourself now- jungkook knows what game you’re playing, and so do you. he’s such a slippery fish to catch- you can’t just pull the rod as soon as you hook him?

and, it looks like he wasn’t going to give in tonight that easily too.

this can be a fun game to play.

you watch him for a little longer, he turns his body to sleep on his right side, now his body fully facing you. well- this is awful. it took no time for you to fall asleep for the millionth time, this time- it was a heavy sleep. the scent of his bed surrounding you.

you decide to stay in his bed for a little longer because you know you have to leave the second you wake up.

jungkook also stayed home today, heading into the bathroom to clean up, then making breakfast, following up with feeding bam, and lastly back to the couch, attending a business call meeting.

if you didn’t have to use the bathroom so urgently, you could stay in his bed until noon. you crawled out of bed to stretch, then mentally prepared yourself to walk out of his room. well, you can’t fake drunk anymore, can you?

after coming out of the washroom, you slowly walk to jungkook, trying not to interrupt him. “...do you know where my phone went…?”

his gaze did not leave the laptop screen, his chin raised slightly, directing you to the device on the coffee table- where your phone lay. you hesitantly collect your phone, wanting to thank him about yesterday, but the sight of him so focused stops you. you didn’t have the heart to interrupt him, making way to the entrance.

you put your heels on while watching bam play with his ball on the side. the doberman notices you, walking over to you while cocking his head which reminds you of how jungkook would always do. you reach a hand out to pat his head but bam back up immediately out of caution.

feeling a little butthurt, you ask: “don’t remember me?”

not only forgetting about you, but bam also leaves to sit next to the man on the couch. jungkook gives bam an endearing rub, then looks up at you, standing by the door.

wow, bam. he always preferred jungkook over you, even when you and him were together.

you glance at the black-brown dog….but now you have a reason to contact him again.

although finding his social media account was a hassle, his phone number never changed. the same night after leaving his house, you found the number that you almost accidentally texted.

y/n: can i pick bam up from yours

he replied almost instantly: and you are?

you let out a light laugh in unbelief before texting back: y/n

then it took a good 30 minutes to get a text back. “sure thing, but only if he wants to go home with you.”

you roll your eyes at the obvious fact that: of course bam doesn’t want to go home with you?! considering the cold shoulder he gave you this morning.

but it’s okay since the cute dog was never the target to go for in the first place.

the day after the text, you went straight to his apartment after work, not bothering to change out of your work outfit- because you knew he was very into this specific set. it was a simple creamy white formal skirt set with black opaque tights.( and he loved this set. so much to the point by the time you normally got back home, he would press you onto the couch immediately. your skirt would usually be wrinkly by the time you two were done.)

jungkook answered the door, his eyes instantaneously landing on the girl in front of him, his eyes slightly widened for a split second. he has to admit, that you recognize his preferences a little too well.

it's not because he likes the pantyhose with skirt look, but more because it is on you. especially because he would watch you get ready for work all seriously, and you would get home and find his shoulders immediately, draping on top of him all tired and worn out from socializing. and he was a whore for it.

he’s literally hooked for you.

he opened the door wide open for you, he didn’t have any spare slippers in the house, so before you could take your slip heels off, he stopped you. “no need.”

after shutting the door, he opened his mouth: “you didn’t bring anything?”

you’re here to pick up bam, and yet you came empty-handed, causing bam to only take one glance at you before jumping on the couch, disinterested.

jungkook brought bam’s toys and treats over to you, yet bam didn’t even budge, to the point where he had to physically carry him over to you. it seemed like bam wasn't having any of this, not even giving you any sort of attention. jungkook had to give him a big encouraging talk before handing the medium-sized dog over to you.

you needed a lot of strength to hold the doberman in your arms while jungkook went to get a dog leash. the second bam saw the leash in jungkook’s hands,he started to struggle out of your grasp, struggling to get out of your embrace.

you weren’t prepared for the dog to be so strong, before you could let go of him, he had already left a faint bite mark on your arm, you winced under your breath while watching bam hop over to jungkook’s feet. jungkook hurried to drop the leash, coming up to you. “are you all good?”

“just a bite.” you brought your arm to his eye level, it wasn’t bleeding or anything, just a clear bite. “i’ve got some antibiotic ointment. you want some?”

you nodded your head. “sure.”

“...do you want to those off then?”

“hm?” you followed his eyes, looking down at your tights, a hole had been scratched open too, and you didn’t realize that maybe bam had also scratched you on the leg while trying to get out of your grasp. “yeah- yeah. i’ll do that.” you answered after excusing yourself to the bathroom. taking off the nylons, you threw them into the laundry basket before checking the scratch.

it was nothing but a pink line, you hurried out of the room, scared that by the time you headed out, it would already have faded.

jungkook was already seated on the familiar couch by the time you finished taking your tights off. you went over and seated down extremely close to him. pressing your thigh against his knee to show him the faint mark. he kept a very straight face while taking out the otc ointment from the first aid kit. he treated the few marks, you don't know if it was intentional or not, but he applied way too much on the injuries, leaving a big patch of your skin covered in ointment.

you look at him, who is now putting the cream back into the box. he clears the silence, “it doesn’t seem like he wants to go with you.”

you let out a sigh, looking at the dog resting by jungkook’s side. “it’s a shame that he completely forgot about me.”

“it’s been too long since he last saw you, that’s why.” he gives loving pats to bam, and you find an endearing smile creeping on your face at the scene. you muttered under your breath, “i missed him, i definitely wanted to live with him.” jungkook turned his head from the dog to you, adding “i take great care of him, and he likes me more.”

you went silent. that’s an unarguable fact. the silence went on for another minute when he spoke again. “gotta rebuild the trust again.”

your ears perk up at his comment…does this mean you can come to visit more often…to build the relationship again?

but you know it’s petty unlike for bam to like you again, lowering your head slightly, you mention, “i don’t think so,” you look up into his glassy, pure eyes, “i don’t want to force it. he looks way more comfortable with you anyway.” you’re not sure if jungkook wanted to hear that, but his brows slightly knot as he slowly opens his mouth to speak. “you’re giving up? even just being friends?”

your eyes immediately widen- you’re not sure if he meant being friends with bam…or him. he subconsciously avoids eye contact with you, looking back down at bam. “since i- no, bam, can consider you as a co-owner.”

you like the sound of that.

this is something you could get used to.

jungkook didn’t seem like he minded you staying, so you obviously did not have any intentions of leaving just yet. you’re playing with bam (surprisingly you and bam have gotten quite along within an hour) when his takeout arrives. he hesitantly asked you if you wanted to have dinner together, which you agreed happily to. he walked into the kitchen to cook something extra for the two of you.

you weren’t too hungry, but you had to admit you desperately missed his cooking. it was already 9 pm when you and him had finished dinner. the entire time it was filled with small talk and comfortable silence. you left right after dinner, saying farewell to bam, and received a slight nod from jungkook.

after getting home, your phone buzzed with a notification from jungkook’s number. it was an image of your tights in his laundry basket. you locked the phone without replying and hopped into the shower.

after doing your skincare, you casually replied: “chuck it in the trash”

jungkook sent a photo of the tights in the rubbish bin with no other caption.

you decided to tease him a little: or you can keep it if you want

jungkook: ……i’m not that gross

as if he has never touched your tights. you don't even remember how many pairs of your stockings he had ripped during the time when you two were together.

as if he could read your mind, he sent a full 2-minute video of him taking the rubbish bag outside, followed by him throwing the plastic bag into the rubbish bin with no remorse. you watch the video on a loop for a few minutes, chuckling to yourself.

you weren’t sure what got into your mind the next day. after taking a relaxing bubble bath after work, something within you told you to find jungkook. although you were very rough from working, you still felt energized to prepare yourself. after putting on a tank top and a skirt- you made your way out.

your hair still damp, you decided to pick some snacks on the way to his house. with confident and happy steps, you knocked on his door.

no answer.

you stood outside the locked door, dialing his number: he picked up within two rings, voice relaxed and soft. “what’s up?”

“are you not at home?”

he paused for a split second “you’re coming over?”

you hummed in response, “i brought fried chicken too.”

“i’m out fishing.” jungkook said, then changed to a softer tone. “since…it didn’t look like you were coming over tonight.”

you suppressed your laughter, teasingly asked: “so you were waiting for me then?”

the other side of the phone remained silent, causing you to let out a giggle. “i’ll come find you, share your location.”

he hung up, sharing his location with you right after- a freshwater lake close by. you made your way to his location with no hesitation.

bro he’s actually fishing on this fine evening.

it was extremely dark by the lakeside, but you could make out the figure of many middle-aged men sitting by the lake. turning your phone flashlight on, you spot your familiar ex-boyfriend in the middle of many men.

he stood up to borrow a foldable stool from the man next to him. you tidied your skirt before sitting real close to him, your arm pressing against his. he looked at you on his side, “it’s too hot.” he muttered. you didn’t move away at all, instead, you decided to lean your head on his broad shoulder. he didn’t move away either.

you didn’t understand the joy of fishing but still watched him the whole time quietly. it felt peaceful to have him against you by the dark, calming lake.

instead, jungkook felt slightly heated - how is it possible to focus on his rod when he had you leaning on him? it only took him half an hour to start packing his equipment, he couldn’t stand you next to him! you’re such a distraction! (not that he’s complaining…)

after leaving the lake, you two stood under the road lights, he glanced at you under the warm streetlights. he noticed your glassy eyes of discomfort. he looked down at the few itchy bites on your arms. oh shit- he forgot to remind you about that.

the lake was surrounded by grassy areas, he was smart by wearing a long sleeve and sweatpants, but he forgot to warn you about the mosquitoes before sending you his location. it was only around 30 minutes, but he could spot a few reddish marks on your arm, waist, and legs.

you didn’t realise this when you were by the lake, but now that you’re under the light, you can see the spots clear as day. jungkook takes your hand to lead you to his car, occasionally having to stop you from touching the mosquito bites. “don’t scratch them, we’ll be home soon.” he tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, before stopping to caress your earlobe for a slight second.

“but it’s itchy.”

“patient.”

you bite down on your lip. patient. you should’ve been patient when you were taking that damn bath!!! this is what you get when you’re too eager for jeon jungkook.

jungkook took you back to his, immediately using a cold damp towel to caress over the little scattered bites. the mosquitos that were by the lakeside were deadly- the small pink dots had turned into a few red swollen bumps.

you were in his embrace, feeling nothing but defeated. this is literally his second time treating your injuries within two days. a familiar feeling you feel before tearing up runs up your nose, triggering your eyes to start to build up with tears. oh, you feel so guilty right now. almost weeping in his lap, he comforts you on the back while the other hand applies ointment on the bumps, he pulls out a handheld fan to relieve the itching.

“there’s more on the legs.” you tugged on his sleeve, speaking through sulking. jungkook moves to search for the rest of the bites, not expecting you to lift up your skirt to reveal the red mark on the inside of your left thigh. jungkook hesitates for a split second before applying some of the white ointment on his fingertip, his heart seems to be beating faster than usual - his head spinning, but he ignores it.

when his hands move closer to the spot, you close your legs slightly out of discomfort, just enough to cover the mark with your panties. jungkook feels his breathing fasten, he uses his middle finger to push the fabric of the underwear out of the way, rubbing the treatment on the spot. he wasn’t too sure what he touched, but he was sure he saw a slight reaction from your body, causing your hand that was holding the skirt to slightly twitch. feeling a twinge of playfulness creep up, he holds the small fan to the spot, turning it on with the press of a button.

you immediately close your legs out of sensitivity, giving him an alarming look. the second your legs squeezed against each other, jungkook swore he touched your core with his hand. he felt a numb shoot from his hand, through his veins, then right to his scalp.

you noticed his reaction on his face, and downwards. half of you wanted to take the rare opportunity- but you listened to the other half that told you to slow this down. you decided to leave after that interaction, not giving the both of you what you two obviously want from each other.

plus, he has the whole night to deal with that problem. and plenty of time to think about you.

talking about giving him time, you made the cruel decision to not contact him for the next few days. not to remind you, there was a load of work you had to do for this week for your job.

you knew jungkook would never break the ‘no contact’ type of thing either, but through some late-night stalking, you did find him updating his social media a little too frequently. either it was some workout progress pictures or his dinner with bam. weird.

the weekend came by fast, yerin texted you wondering if you wanted to go bowling with her, you hesitated, wanting to use tomorrow getting ready to see jungkook and bam. but she added that jungkook was going to be there- and you were immediately sold.

yerin’s boyfriend was decent friends with jungkook, they always hung out together, but right after you and jungkook ended things roughly, her boyfriend did not seem to like you very much. which is very reasonable since you did break up with him over text and whatever. which is something that has been keeping you awake at night lately.

arriving at the bowling alley, you see someone familiar with jungkook…the blind date girl. she had two bottles of sprite in her hands while sitting on the side benches. you can’t help but notice the pair of matching sneakers they had on.

you watch with widened eyes as jungkook goes over to her to converse, his eyes glistening with a smile that you haven’t seen in a while.

you do not like jeon jungkook very much right now.

yerin drags you to go say hi to her boyfriend and jungkook, you get a hesitant and sly “hey” from yerin’s boyfriend while jungkook on the side spares you a glance, just one single glance, to instantly turn back to the girl, the two chatting away. oh okay, so he’s going to do this now.

out of annoyance, you decided to cheer and clap for every other guy that is up bowling. you immediately caught the attention of one boy, he walked up to you, asking for your number with redness rising from his ears. naturally, you couldn’t reject him right now, giving your number in a swift motion right in front of jungkook.

still no acknowledgement from him.

finding a spot next to him on the benches, you intentionally sat closer to him. he gave you one warning look before scooting to the other side.

the girl on his right seemed to notice you, sparing you a cautious look while handing jungkook a pre-opened sprite bottle- he took it easily, raising the bottle to his mouth to take a sip out of it.

you slightly raised your arm, bumping the bottle with some strength just before his lips touched the bottle's mouth…causing a few drops to splatter out and onto the collar of his t-shirt, and his face.

as this was not expected at all, the other girl lets out a sharp gasp before pulling a pack of tissues out of her purse, and he takes it urgently to wipe the liquid off his face. you feel him turning to look at you, head cocked, his tongue poking around his mouth. you decided to play dumb, “shit, i’m so sorry kook, i didn't mean to do that.”

the girl on the other side kept calling jungkook by kook the whole time, hearing the nickname leave your mouth, he knows exactly what you’re doing. you’re doing this again.

jungkook didn’t make a single sound, while yerin’s boyfriend couldn’t help but let out a chuckle out his mouth at your actions.

when he got the chance to bowl, he took it very seriously, pins knocked after pins. yerin nudges you to capture your attention: “it’s definitely because he wants to show off to someone he’s interested in.”

you: “can’t be that blind-dating girl, can it?”

yerin: “well it’s not you…not after all that…”

you commented sourly: “she’s not his type.”

yerin gives you a knowing smile. “y/n oh y/n.”

“i know yerin, i’m being very stupid. but i can’t help it.”

you fully understand what “the grass is always greener on the other side” means now. you want what you can’t have.

the loud sound of many pins being knocked down, this is his second strike in a row- a turkey, if you will. your eyes darted towards him after the ‘STRIKE’ was displayed on the screen, but he was looking at the girl sitting on the bench, currently giving him two thumbs-ups.

he responded with a boyish smile.

and that was your cue to leave. you told yerin you felt like leaving early, and she grabbed your arm before you could go. “we’re nearly done then we’re getting dinner, you really wanna leave?” “yeah, i’m going…” you replied, uninterested anymore.

driving home, your phone buzzed many times when you hit a red light. yerin notified you that once you left, it seemed like jungkook also lost his energy to continue playing, hitting only a few pins before leaving with the girl without staying afterwards.

an idea popped into your head, causing you to spin the wheel and turn back- to his house.

this will be the final time you’ll ever willingly go to his house if this does not work out the way you wanted.

when you arrive at the familiar door, you know he probably hasn’t gotten home just yet. you decided to wait outside. the thought that what if he brought the girl home? races through your mind as you suddenly shoot up, contemplating whether you should just hop into the elevator and go home before you vividly see that image happen in front of your eyes.

you are now facing the closed elevator, a shaky finger hovering over the “↓” button. just before physically pressing it, the ‘ding’ from the elevator pulled you back to reality from your thoughts. you watch the door open at a snail's pace, revealing the figure of one specific person- just one, thank god.

jungkook has his phone in one hand, scrolling through emails when he notices that a person is standing outside of the elevator. and it was you. his girl.

eyes meet. he holds strong eye contact, and you could look right through those brown eyes. no words were needed at this moment. the distance between the two of you closes when he hurries to unlock the door, takes your purse and throws it onto the couch, pushing you against the back of the door. everything just simply felt right. his right hand immediately found itself slightly pinching the soft flesh of your earlobe- as if it was made to rest on top of your lobe.

you seriously missed being this close to him, feeling your knees weaken as he pressed his soft lips on you, he tasted like exactly what you’ve been missing for these years. it feels almost like what you feel when you’re in love. you pulled away when bam nudged your foot, but he was more forceful than ever, lifting your chin to meet your lips with his again. you only needed to focus on jungkook at this moment.

right when your hands were finding their way into his shirt, he pulled away, gazing at you. “i got to shower first.” he said, slightly out of breath.

jungkook rushed home after dropping that girl off, planning to take a shower before driving to your place. he had nothing to lose at this point- he doesn’t care if you know that he still remembers your address; he doesn’t care if he’s the one outside your door this time. the way he should’ve been two years ago.

but he was taken by surprise when he saw you outside his front door.

he couldn’t keep lying to himself that he doesn’t think about you, because you’re all he’s been missing about every single day. you, you, and only you.

you couldn’t let go of him at all, scared that he’d just slip away if you didn’t have your hands on him. “we can shower together.”

…the ‘shower’ took almost a whole hour. the bathroom echoed with your whines. many times, jungkook had to wrap his hand around your mouth, softly reminding you through his own pleasurable groans “the walls are thin in the bathroom, darl.”

carrying you to his bed, you were surprised at how effortlessly the mattress allowed him to move all over you. at first, you did not realize, but he was being way too harsh with you.

he was rough when he wanted to be, but he was never this rough?!! jungkook had no hesitation in marking you, pinching your waist when you moved in his rhythm, every single push inside of you made you feel like he wanted to pin you straight into the bed. not to mention- your entire body has been scattered with bites and signs of his touch. you’re definitely not complaining about how perfect he felt when he mended into you, and you had to admit, he was so fucking hot when he is rutting himself inside of you out of pure desire and frustration.

jungkook did not want to hurt you in any way, and you both knew that.

but you did not need him knowing that this was the most passionate, satisfying sex you’ve ever had. so you made the bold decision to start putting your underwear on right after the sensual fuck. not giving him any time for aftercare.

jungkook was lying comfortably on the bed when he noticed that you wanted to leave, his quick reaction caused him to sit up, large hands holding down your waist as he pressed you back down into the mattress. his bright eyes stared at you, “where are you heading to? hm?”

“back home,” you maintain deep eye contact, it’s hard not to kiss him when his soft, pretty lips are at a reachable distance in front of you. “i obviously can’t stay the night…”

jungkook’s grip on your waist tightened, you swear you saw the light in his eyes die out almost immediately. almost a fog covers his pupils and you figure maybe you were a little too extreme with that answer.

a delicate emotion runs across his face and he almost looks hurt when he finally gathers his words, “so…you waited outside my house…just to sleep with me?”

in that moment, you felt like the biggest cunt in the world.

you couldn’t find the right answer, if you said yes, you are the biggest cunt in the world confirmed- if you said no, you don’t think that’s a correct answer either way.

after not collecting a response from you, jungkook lets go, plopping back onto the bed, it’s almost like he took that silence from you as a confirmation of his theory. he laughs to himself, “fuck, why do i keep falling for these games you play?”

he moves his eyes away from you, to a random object in the room. “if you could’ve told me you’re real intention to simply just sleep with me ages ago, we wouldn’t be like this at all, y/n.”

you close your eyes, remaining in your position on his bed.

in the start, you were definitely in it just for a quick fuck. but it looks like you’re now in deep waters. jungkook is irresistible- and you might’ve gone way too far with this one.

“don’t say that.” you move to his side, “i seriously loved you back then.”

“if you loved me, i don’t think you would’ve sent me off to a different city, y/n.”

“i told you it was an opportunity…i know you’d be better off if you got that job, even if we broke up, i wanted you to be successful, and not- stay in this small city…being stuck with me.” you replied, hoping he would meet eye with you again.

jungkook was tired of arguing about this. he knew the both of you weren’t the best when it came to communicating, he didn’t want to leave your city because you were in it, but he knew it might’ve been the end when he saw his name on the office announcement. he told you he couldn’t accept doing long distance, while you simply replied over text “then let’s just end it all. no matter if you go or not. let’s just end it here.” and that ruined him.

it was almost like you just desperately wanted to get rid of him.

if only he had the balls to drive to your house to talk this out, but he didn’t.

he absolutely should’ve, but he didn’t.

“look at this! it’s painful.” he stopped in his thoughts when your head found his chest, you were pointing to the bruises he had left on your thigh. “jungkook! bruises.”

jungkook didn’t want to respond at all, but couldn’t help looking down on your pretty body. many parts of your skin were turning red from his roughness. he knew he didn’t use much strength at all, your skin was just easily sensitive. but he couldn’t help but feel his heart soften slightly when he heard your voice full of sulk.

he spoke with a gentle tone “sorry,” while circling an arm around your waist, massaging your hips. “does it still hurt?”

“yeah.”

jungkook adjusted his position, hovering over you, he kissed every single mark he made on your body, making sure every single area on your skin was being loved.

“what now?”

you knew exactly what he was asking about. what now? us? but you played dumb once again. “what?”

looking down at you his tongue ran over his pillow lips, he remained silent.

“you explain the matching sneakers first.” you raised your eyebrows.

“i bought them on purpose after i saw her wearing them after friday dinner. to piss you off.” jungkook replied.

but he didn’t include the part where he rejected her forwardly and blatantly the first night when he drove her home after dinner. he didn’t include the part where he asked her the night before going bowling if she could help him with a favor. he didn’t include the part where the favor was to ask her if she could come and help him act this way to piss you off.

you couldn’t help but let a giggle slip when he stared at you with a straight face. “okay, now i like you a whole lot again.”

after receiving a satisfying answer, a smile of relief crept onto his face, feeling his jaw unclench. “so you’re not just in it for one single fuck?” he teased.

“one won’t be enough.”

“give me an amount then.”

“i don’t know…until you’re bored of me? i guess?” you replied, intertwining your hand with his.

i will never get bored of you, he thought to himself. he looked at your soft hand interlocked with his, not only will he never get bored of you, but he’ll also never let go of this hand ever again.

his other hand reached for your earlobe.

after getting back together with jungkook, you’ve realized how different this man has become over this time.

you remember him sometimes being very unreasonable, overprotective, almost overwhelming- of a boyfriend. and of course, sometimes jealousy is cute! you get that, but he was over the top about it. but now- now this is different.

it’s the indifferences that make a relationship cute!

occasionally you still pull a cheeky lie, telling him that you’re going home to rest- but bumping into him in a local bar. he wouldn’t be angry at all, unlike before. instead, he would drag you with a teasing smile to come drink at his table. that’s when you know you’re in for a long night back at his house.

but there was something you really wanted to talk out with him.

one summer night, when the cold wind was blowing through his large window, you turned your body to face him- there was something that was keeping you up tonight. he felt your movement next to him, “what’s up?”

“it’s been like…two months since we got back together, right?”

“right.”

“i think i want to talk some things out.”

thank god the night was dim, and jungkook was grateful because of that, he knows the expression on his face is not very charming. if this was a face-to-face conversation, he doesn’t know how he’ll be able to handle it.

“yeah?” there was a hint of calmness in his voice, almost like he was forcing it. jungkook doesn’t know what to expect. he thought there would be a different result this time- he’s a different person! he finds himself desperately praying with his aching heart that this will not be another heart-shattering break-up again.

at least, this time it's in person, right?

right?

he was lost in panic when your hand squeezed him under the quilt.

“jungkook, do you think i broke up with you because i wanted to get rid of you?”

was it not? the three words were stuck in his throat, but he wanted to hear your voice more than his own right now.

“well, it wasn’t. it was for a more stupid reason- not because you were clingy, and whatever you thought. i wanted you to be successful, of course. but it was all out of my stupidity, i texted that out of anger, i didn’t actually mean it. i just wanted to see if you would come find me. come talk it out. i know we both weren’t good with words.”

you lowered your voice, “stupidly, a selfish part of me- even though i wanted you to get the job- a little bit of me still wished that you would’ve picked me over that.” after your little statement, you felt a heavy rock was lifted from your chest.

the hand that you held slightly twitched under your grip. he fully moved to face you. you turned away out of embarrassment.

to honestly admit that you love jeon jungkook, is a harder thing than you thought.

you felt the mattress vibrate, and then you realize he was now laughing at you. “i believe everything you say, even if you lied to my face, i would trust you without a doubt, y/n.”

“that was all my honest words!!!”

“i know. i know.” he said through chuckles. you turned towards him, embracing your urge to touch your lips with his. with muffled laughter, he moves right on top of you, locking both sides of your body with his strong thighs.

it’s annoying how he’s still smiling….when he’s peeling your pyjamas off you.

his eyes are glassy and glowy under the reflection of the moonlight, you could get lost in them for days.

“i don’t care what you say,” he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, “i’ve always loved you more than you did me. y/n.”

“okay then.” you replied, not wanting to argue with the man who was currently pressing lovebites on your neck.

jungkook smirks against your neck,

way, way more. (end)

here is my masterlist if you want to enjoy some more of my writing!

and until next time, kae.

865 notes · View notes

dreamescapeswriting · 7 months ago

Text

Flirting With Fiction ~ BC

⤜WORD COUNT: 0.8K

⤜GENRE: Established relationship, cute, fluff, couples being cute, chan finding out the reader is reading smut

⤜PAIRING: Chan x GN!Reader

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - April 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

The sun dipped low, casting a warm, golden glow into Chan's living room as he and you lounged together on the couch, his arm wrapped around your shoulders as he lazily scrolled through his phone. It had been a day of lazy contentment, filled with shared laughter and easy conversation. But now, as the shadows lengthened, a curious silence fell between the two of you. Which was a little odd since you were usually the type to fill any kind of silence in the air.

If there was one thing Chan knew about you it was that you hated when it was too quiet in the air and you needed to fill it. Chan glanced over at you, his brow furrowing in confusion at your uncharacteristic quietness. He worried something was wrong, maybe something had upset you or maybe he'd done it somehow. Panic built up inside of his chest and he swallowed the lump in his throat, putting his phone down.

"Hey, what's up?" he asked, nudging you gently with his elbow. "You've been unusually quiet." He added a soft chuckle on the end to let you know he wasn't being mean about it, Chan didn't want to upset you or make you feel judged for anything but he needed to know you were okay. You jumped slightly, tearing your gaze away from the book you were holding in your hands, you shut it instantly and smiled up at him.

Whenever you opened a book the words danced before your eyes, and you could feel yourself slipping from reality. It was like a siren's call, luring you further into the depths of the world the book was created for you. Books were the one thing in your life that you had always used as an escape in life, the one place you choose to go to when things got tough, or just for fun. You'd read in front of Chan before but never got so lost in the pages as much as you had tonight. The book just had a grip on you, something you couldn't put down.

"Oh, um, nothing," you murmured, attempting to hide the title with a feeble attempt at nonchalance since Chan had already caught you acting suspicious about it.

Chan arched an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a mischievous grin as he leaned closer to peer at the book, you pulled it to your chest doing your best to hide it from him but it was too late, he'd already caught a glimpse of the title.

"Hmm, 'Forbidden Desires: A Tale of Passion'?" he read aloud, a teasing lilt to his voice, your body heating up as you heard it said in a suggestive way from your boyfriend. Within seconds the book was taken from your grasp and Chan flicked through the pages, his eyes landing on the different highlighted passages you'd done. All in different coloured highlighters, some sentences or paragraphs underlined with small written words next to them.

"Now, what might you be doing with a book like that?" He chuckled softly and you felt your whole body tingle with embarrassment as you attempted to snatch the book away, but he lifted it from your grasp and smirked a little. Chan knew you liked to read but he never would have imagined you liked to read something so steamy and suggestive,

"It's nothing," you insisted, though your protests were weak at best, Chan couldn't help but look through the pages as he kept the book out of your reach.

"Nothing, huh? You sure seemed pretty engrossed in it," he teased, his eyes dancing with amusement. His eyes moved back to the book as he read the passages highlighted in pink and instantly his cheeks began to turn red.

You huffed in mock annoyance, swatting at Chan's hand in a futile attempt to reclaim the book, he stared down at you and you bit down on your lip.

"Fine, you caught me," You admitted with a sheepish grin. "But it's not like I'm reading it for any particular reason." You mumbled a little and Chan raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk playing at his lips.

"Oh, really? So you just randomly decided to pick up a steamy romance novel?" You rolled her eyes, though there was a sparkle of amusement in your gaze. You picked up books all of the time, spice or no spice but this one just so happened to be one of the spicest books you'd ever had the pleasure of reading.

"Okay, maybe I was looking for a little... escapism," you confessed, your cheeks burning up so hot you were sure you'd be able to cook on them at this point. Chan laughed, finally relenting and handing the book back to you.

"Well, as long as it's keeping you entertained," he said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close, you settled back into a comfortable reading position, finding the page you'd been on since you hadn't had time to place a bookmark earlier.

"But next time, maybe just tell me you need some alone time to indulge in your spicy reads." He whispers against your ear, his breath catching on your skin making you shiver.

"Or I can maybe help recreate any scenes you want, it's up to you," He added as you whimpered, snuggling closer to him,

"Deal," You agreed, feeling a warmth spread through you at the easy familiarity of your banter.

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @toplinehyunjin @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @choisoorin @straykids5star @midnightfrog625 @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @halesandy @junhannies @gothic4under4lord @lixie-phoria @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lensfilm @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @kpopsstuffs @chaeyoungs @delulu18 @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @niktwazny303 @moonlight-the-writer @armystay89 @hadassahchan @yxngbxkkie @myyouthdonut @extrhotjne @ca11me3mily @elissasimp @piercedddriver

#skz #skz x reader #skz imagine #skz imagines #stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagine #stray kids imagines #bang chan #bang chan x reader #bang chan imagine #bang chan imagines #chan #chan x reader #chan imagine #chan imagines

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grandlinedreams · 9 months ago

Text

|| Cassian occupies more of my thoughts than he should tbh

|| warnings: mate!cassian, uhh pretty much pwp, oral (fem receiving), piv unprotected sex (make informed choices, kids!), maybe I got a little wine drunk when i started this last night but hey sinful sunday am i right, inappropriate usage of a couch and a library, finger sucking

He's doing it on purpose.

You're sure that he is ㅡ the drag of his fingers up and down your leg is slow and intentional, and it's making it increasingly hard to focus on the book you've been trying to read.

Keyword: trying.

By the third pass of his fingertips against the inside of your thigh, you've read the same paragraph six times ㅡ and you exhale. "Cassian."

His answer is a drowsy hum and the lift of his head from where he's pillowed against your stomach. "What?"

You wonder if he knows what he's doing ㅡ perhaps not, because the drowsiness in his eyes suggests he'd almost been asleep. The way he's sprawled out over you can hardly be the most comfortable, but the lax fold of his wings says that he's been content.

You find it in yourself to feel a little bad for bothering him and he hums again when you slip your fingers into his hair and scratch lightly at his scalp.

Cassian's expression reminds you of a pleased cat, and part of you expects him to start purring. Instead, he's a little more awake as he nudges his chin against your stomach. "Is that book good?"

You blink, eyes flicking to the book, the pitiful amount that you've read, and then you shrug. "I guess so."

"Not an encouraging statement," Cassian says, eyes gleaming as he adjusts how he's settled over you. "What's it about?"

Mother damn it all. Cassian watches as you struggle to come up with an answer. "Well," you say lamely, "I haven't read much of it, so..."

"You've been here for hours," Cassian points out. "Normally you'd have been done with that book and onto the next."

"Doesn't help when I have a breathing blanket on me," you huff, cheeks hot. "You keep touching me and it's distracting."

You realize your mistake the second the words leave your lips, teeth clicking together as Cassian's eyes gleam with a darker, predatory light.

"Oh," he almost purrs as he moves further up, caging you in as he looms over you. "I'm distracting, am I?"

You don't need to look at his pupils to know they're blown wide with lust, the knead of his fingers at your hips and the stiff press of him against your thigh.

"Want to see how distracting I can be?"

"We're in public," you protest, and he laughs quietly.

"Not really."

"This is the library," you whine, and he grins.

"You think Rhys or Az haven't done things in here before?" Your hips jerk underneath him, and he pinches at your skin with a growl. "You better not be imagining either one of them."

Heat unfurls in your lower belly, stoked coals that ignite as you arch against him, pressing into the upward wander of one of his hands to your breast. He palms it, and you exhale a soft moan.

"And if I am?"

It's a challenge, one you know is going to get you in trouble as Cassian almost snarls against your neck and nips hard enough that you cry out.

"Then I'll have to remind you who you should be thinking about then, hm?"

If someone were to walk in, there's absolutely no way they wouldn't know what you're doing. For starters, the smell of arousal is sharp in the air ㅡ the second is that you're bare from the waist down, legs on either side of Cassian's head, pressing into the plush cushion of the couch as he grips your hips and fucks his tongue into you like a man possessed.

And he may as well be for the skilled work of that slick muscle inside you, the noises you fight to stifle into your arm as he bumps your clit with his nose.

"Fuck, Cass," you whine, and you tense when he laughs against your slick, aching core, kitten licks that have you groaning and fighting to cant your hips down against his face.

He allows you the tiny victory of his tongue back against your folds, licking in earnest now as you pant and muffle your moans into the couch cushion.

He doesn't need to feel the pleasure rolling down your end of the bond to know how you're feeling, the little hitched breaths and shuddering gasps more than enough to have him palming himself to your sounds, lapping at your abundant slick with a groan of his own.

But your mate has never been particularly patient when you sound like that, too eager to have his cock inside you to let you finish on his tongue. He soothes your whine of frustrated protest with a kiss that tastes like you, lets you lick into his mouth as he works his pants down enough to free his length.

"Ride me," he huffs against your mouth, nipping at your jawline as he coaxes you back, legs settling on either side of his hips as he positions himself against you. He growls at the way your eyes flutter when the blunt tip of him nudges at your entrance, teeth digging into the meat of your shoulder as you sink down onto him.

There's a brief moment of heavy breathing as you adjust, the clench of your walls making him tense further as he fights to not simply flip your position ㅡ and then you're moving, the undulation of your hips making Cassian's head tip back against the decorative couch pillow with a moan.

"Shh," you murmur unsteadily as you bounce in his lap. "Do you want them to hear us?"

It's the wrong thing to say because Cassian's eyes light with challenge, cock twitching inside you before he bucks up and you curl, hand slapped to your mouth to keep from keening.

It doesn't take much to switch your position, his wings stretching out a little to help balance him as he presses you beneath him.

"You're the one who's loud, sweetheart," he says, grinning as the deep, deliberate grind of his hips into yours has you arching, teeth digging into your bottom lip.

"Cass," you manage when he slings one of your legs higher against his hip to sink a little deeper into you. "Cass, please, I can'tㅡ"

"Love hearing you beg," Cassian murmurs. "My pretty baby, can't have everyone hearing how good I make you feel, hm? Your noises should be just for me."

The slip of his fingers into your mouth is familiar, the obedient part of your lips that darkens his eyes further as you dig your teeth into the tip of his index.

"Don't be a brat," he warns, though the threat is ruined for the way he grunts when you clench around him. "Little vixen," he hisses as he resumes the movement of his hips.

You hum around his digits, flattening your tongue against them as he thrusts into you harder. The couch frame creaks a little in protest beneath you but you can't bring yourself to care, especially not when Cassian tugs his fingers free of your mouth in favor of rubbing a spit slick finger against your clit.

It's sheer will that you don't scream at the contact, arching as he works tight circles against the swollen bud, groaning as you clamp around him erratically. "Come on baby," he huffs, "wanna feel you soak my cock. Can you do that for me?"

Your answer is the dig of your teeth into his shoulder as you come, making him hiss as you tighten and pulse around him. He isn't far behind you though, hips flush to yours as he spills into you with a low moan before collapsing over you.

Chest heaving, you tug at one of the loose locks of dark hair. "Can't believe you got me to do this with you, you menace."

Cassian lifts his head, giving you a grin that sends your heart skipping a beat. "You love me."

Your fingers thread into his hair. "Yeah," you say, "I do." His expression softens before he's leaning up for a soft kiss ㅡ and then the moment is ruined by the horribly familiar voice of your High Lord ringing in your head.

I hope the two of you plan on getting a new couch for the library.

#ㅡmine.#acotar x reader #cassian x reader #acotar smut

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performativezippers · 5 months ago

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Hello again!! :D i was wondering, what makes a story feel lifeless? i mean, not the plot but the text itself. My writing feels like a bunch of facts one after the other: the sky was blue, it smelled like cinnamon; This happened and then That happened, now they're doing This etc. Despite including sensory details and the protagonist's thoughts, it still feels monochromatic and devoid of personality :( and like? too quick?? in a bad way (not sure why). How can i change this?

Great question! I love this one! Here are three things that come to mind for me.

Based on what you've written, it seems like what you might be missing is emotionality--without the right emotion beats, it's no wonder its feeling lifeless to you. You've got the senses nailed -- the sky is blue (what they see), it smells like cinnamon (scent, evocative! curious: why does it smell like that, i wonder as the reader, that's good!). And you've got plot points coming one after the other, also good.

So maybe your paragraph looks like this (obviously I'm just making this up):

Jane followed Maura into the farmer's market. It was a hot day. The sky was bright blue and the air smelled like cinnamon. Maura took a long time looking at all of the vegetables. Jane bought a Red Sox onesie for Frankie's baby. Maura spent a lot of money, and Jane was ready to go long before Maura was.

Here are three things I'd do to make this seem more alive, more emotional, and take longer (if you want it to):

1. Vary the sentence length. This is a great an easy fix to writing that sounds wooden. Read it out loud. Notice the steady tempo of the sentences above; they're all relatively similar in length. Breaking that up can give a more unpredictable rhythm that makes the reader's breath catch in their chest. After you read the above paragraph out loud, read this one. Notice that none of the words have changed, only the punctuation (and things like "and"):

Jane followed Maura into the farmer's market on a hot day. The sky was bright blue, the air smelled like cinnamon. Maura took a long time looking at all of the vegetables, and Jane bought a Red Sox onesie for Frankie's baby. Maura spent a lot of money. Jane was ready to go long before Maura was.

That's a little more lively, a little more of an emphasis comes into "Maura spent a lot of money," and there's a bit of a dance to "the sky was bright blue, the air smelled like cinnamon" in a way there wasn't to the first version.

Okay, simple fix done. Now to the more complex ones.

2. Tie specific emotion and memory to each sensation. So it smells like cinnamon, so what? So the sky is blue, so what? What do those things mean for Jane? Why are we calling those out? What can we learn from/about Jane and the scene from her reactions to those things? Maybe now it looks like this (new/modified stuff in blue):

Jane followed Maura into the farmer's market. It wasn't until they were approaching the first fruit stand that Jane realized how long it had been since she'd been here. Jane was surprised to find that she missed it, missed watching Maura touch every single damn zucchini and then buy none of them. It was nice, actually. It was the hottest day of the summer so far; the sky was bright blue, and the air smelled like cinnamon. Maura took a long time looking at all of the vegetables, as always, and Jane wandered away in a fit of boredom, returning with a cheap Red Sox onesie for Frankie's baby that made Maura mutter something under her breath about synthetic fabrics and infant skin. Jane didn't bother not to smile. It felt like old times. Maura finally found some berries up to her standards and spent more money than even Jane expected her to, and Jane eventually had to drag her back to the car.

Okay, so that's very different, right? Thinking about each detail, each action, as something that's specific and makes Jane think of specific things, to compare and contrast to how it might have gone before. That's going to give you lots of life and emotionality. We learn, without you having to tell us, that Jane expected it to be boring, stilted, long, and not very hot outside. That tells us a lot about Jane. Plus, we learn that not only was nice and kind of emotional and hot and Maura spent so much money, but also how Jane feels about those things, those expectations she had gotten wrong. That tells us even more about Jane!

And then the final thing that comes to my mind right now is:

3. Connect what's happening to the broader plot or tension of this scene. Why are they at the farmer's market? What is Jane needing to happen, or hoping doesn't happen? Let's say Maura has dragged Jane out because Jane has been stuck inside the precinct for a week trying to find a clue that's evaded her on a tough case. The unsolved case is weighing on Jane, and Maura is a firm believer that fresh air and exercise will give Jane's brain the breath it needs to find the clue. Jane is very grumpy about it. So that's tension: Jane wants to be at work saving lives, and Maura has dragged her here, using Jane's love for Maura to manipulate her into coming to the market. So maybe now it looks like this (new/modified stuff in purple):

Jane reluctantly followed Maura into the farmer's market. It wasn't until they were approaching the first fruit stand that Jane realized how long it had been since she'd been here; Maura used to drag her here almost every weekend, but that was before Casey. Before everything with Maura's dad. Before their relationship was stretched taut like a rubber band and then very nearly snapped in two. Jane was surprised to find that she missed it, missed watching Maura touch every single damn zucchini and then buy none of them. It was nice, actually. It was the hottest day of the summer so far; the sky was bright blue, and the air smelled like cinnamon. Inside the precinct, at her desk, it was always dark and smelled like a gym locker. Maybe Maura was right, not that Jane would ever admit it to her. Seeing the sky, smelling the pastries and coffee and ripe peaches--maybe this was what Jane needed to crack the case. Maura took forever looking at all of the vegetables, as always, and Jane wandered away in a fit of boredom, returning with a cheap Red Sox onesie for Frankie's baby that made Maura mutter something under her breath about synthetic fabrics and infant skin. Jane didn't bother not to smile. It felt like old times, like maybe one day they'd get back to the banter and easy affection they'd used to have. Maura finally found some berries up to her standards and spent more money than even Jane expected her to, and Jane eventually had to drag her back to the car, because murder can only wait so long, after all. The sunshine and stone fruit and the hot, humid breezes of summer would all still be waiting for her once she'd solved this damn case.

So by (1) varying sentence length, (2) making things tied to specific memories and details, and comparing/contrasting with past experiences or current expectations, and (3) tying the entire situation into the broad tension of the scene/chapter/fic, we've been able to add a lot of liveliness, character depth, emotionality, and slow down the pace so that we're not rushing from one thing to the next.

What do you think? What do you all do to add life to your scenes?

#writing advice #writing fiction #writing fanfiction #writing fanfic #writing original fiction #writing #ask zipps

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stattikdemon · 2 months ago

Text

Kinktober 2024 - Day 6 - Femdom

Hello and welcome to day 6 of this amazing kinktober 🤩

Yes, I am late once again, but I hope I manage to make your wait worth it 😉

This one was a pain in the but, why are bj so hard to write anyway? 😅

But I tried to better myself since the last time I wrote one so I hope this one is better 🥲

Also, this one has more paragraphs as some of you suggested for better reading, so I hope this helps ☺️

Let me know what you think, comments and messages are always more than welcome 😊

MDNI +18

You and Alastor have been married for a few decades now, and although he was an excellent husband and an even better lover, things sometimes could get a little monotonous. So today you decided that you would be in control. You've never tried that, and honestly, you weren't sure if he would even like the idea, but it didn't hurt to try.

And so, after a romantic dinner at a simple restaurant and a walk through a nearby park, you both decided to call it a night and go back to your house. You decided to take a quick shower, the warm water helped you to relax as you thought about how you were going to bring up your idea with Alastor.

You heard the shower curtain opening and closing behind you, your husband's arms wrapping around your waist, and he lowered his head onto your shoulder. You scratched his head lightly, and he sighed, his body relaxing and his arms wrapping you tighter. You both stayed like this for a few minutes until he lifted his head from your shoulder, and in a swift motion he grabbed your arm and turned you, pushing you against the wall and locking his lips with yours in a passionate kiss.

You felt his hands all over your body, scratching you and leaving marks where he passed. His hand trailed down your body, down your stomach, until they reached your folds. He parted your folds, lightly playing with your sensitive nub, a whine leaving your lips and muffled by his own. He left your lips and went straight to your neck, placing nibbles all around it. You moaned from his tongue, licking a sensitive spot.

His fingers were now close to your entrance, teasing you and getting coated with your juices. He entered you slowly, getting deeper and deeper with each thrust. You were moaning louder now, his fingers touching your sensitive spot with every thrust, your orgasm building fast. You grabbed his hair and pulled them back into your lips, your moans now muffled in his mouth.

You were so near the edge, his fingers skillfully making you see stars. "Alastor…" - you moaned, the coil in your stomach ready to snap. He removed his fingers just as you were about to cum, a whine leaving your throat as he looked at you with a mischievous look. You huffed at him, slightly turning your face in discontent, and you didn't notice that he got on his knees and parted your folds with his tongue, his fingers thrusting in and out of you at a faster pace. He sucked and licked your sensitive nub, your legs barely holding you up as he kept thrusting his fingers at a fast pace.

"Alastor, I'm gonna… Ah! I'm gonna cum" - you screamed, grabbing his hair and grinding yourself on his mouth, the coil inside of you snapping, and he helped you ride your high. You were a moaning mess, your back arched and your brain completely hazed. He helped you ride you high, getting up and kissing you softly, his tongue still coated with your juices. You felt your legs starting to give up, but Alastor wrapped your arms around his neck for support, his kiss now soft and caring.

He helped you to wash, being careful with your hair and body. You washed his body as well, careful as to not make him too overwhelmed. He was still wary of touch sometimes, so you were very careful not to make him unconfortable. After you were both done, he helped you out of the shower, he wrapped a towel around you before drying himself up. You looked at his beautiful figure, even after all these years, you still didn't know how you got so lucky to have him.

You both got into your room. Your husband went to the drawers by the closet to retrieve his pajamas, but before he could button up his shirt, you hugged him from behind. "My love, I'd like to try something tonight, if you're comfortable." - his ears pearked at your words, and he turned to face you. "Oh, and what would that be, my dear?" He looked at you amused. "You'll see, my love" - you reached up to his lips to kiss him.

You took his hand and guided him to your bed, softly motioning for him to lay down. You lay down next to him, softly tracing circles on his chest while you kiss him softly. You slowly trail your hand down from his chest to his stomach, a slight twist from his muscles at the discomfort he was feeling, but he let you continue down to his pants. You free his member, still slightly soft but starting to come to life as you stroke him up and down.

A sigh escapes his lips when you break the kiss. You look at him with a wicked smile and go down to his waist, his member fully erect now. "Dear, you don't have to…" - you interrupt him. "I want to. I'm going to have all the work today, so you just enjoy yourself," you kissed his tip softly, a bit of precum coating your lips. You lick the underside slowly until you get to the tip again, drawing circles softly with your tongue. Another sign escapes his lips as he rises on his elbows to look at you.

You take his tip into your mouth, sucking lightly and licking, bobbing your head up and down, taking more and more each time. He closed his eyes, his hands gripping the sheets and his head tilting up slightly with another sigh. He looks at you with a grin, your head still taking almost all of his length now, taking your hand and stroking him alongside your lips.

"Darling…" - he sighed again and tried to pull you up to meet his lips, but you stopped him, placing a finger on his chest and pushing him down lightly - "Don't. I want to be the one pleasing you today, so don't you dare try to move". Alastor was amused by your determination, and so he laid back down, letting you crawl up to him. You kissed him, your tongues dancing with one another as you aligned your entrance with his dick and slowly slid down, a moan leaving your lips.

You moved your hips up and down slowly, your hands in his chest as support. Alastor placed his hands on your hips and tried to make you move faster, but you placed a finger on his chest again - "Ah, ah. You can keep your hands there, but you can't move me, mister". He huffed at you, and as revenge you buried yourself completely, a moan escaping his lips as you hit your cervix in a painfully and pleasurable way.

You kept going up and down his member, the angle making it hit your g-spot every time, making you a completely moaning mess. Alastor's breathing was hard, and his hands were grabbing to your hips for dear life, leaving trails of scratches and tiny bloody patches all over them. Your breasts were bouncing from your movement, the quick slapping sounds every time you lowered yourself filled the room, making you even more horny.

You laid down on his chest, reaching for his neck, licking and kissing it, winning a few more sighs and moans from him. You felt his dick twitching inside you, his breathing even more erratic than before. "Darling, I…" - he pleaded. "Don't you dare cum. You can only cum when I tell you to cum" - you growled in his ear, your movements erratic as your orgasm closed in.

His talons gripped your hips tighter, and his antlers grew taller as he tried to keep control of himself. You were so close now, the coil inside you ready to snap at any moment. "Alastor, please fill me up. Please cum inside me!" - you begged between moans.

You sat back up, making sure he was completely inside you with each thrust. A couple of thrusts was all it took for him to force you down completely, filling you up and making you cum as well. You could feel his warm seed deep inside you, your walls clamping him like a vice while both of you rode your high.

You fell down to his chest, both your breathing still erratic and you were seeing stars still. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest, and after a couple of minutes, you were both breathing normally. "Maybe I should go take a bath" - your voice was slightly strained, and when you tried to get up, Alastor didn't let you. "Ah, ah. Now that would be a waste, don't you think? Why don't you sleep just like this tonight?" - he chuckled mischievously. Joke's on him though, you actually liked to sleep feeling full of his cum.

#alastor smut #alastor fic #kinktober 2024 #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fic #alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor x you #hazbin alastor smut #hazbin hotel alastor x reader

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pygmi-says-hi · 2 months ago

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I love your writing. It's amazing! If you haven't done so already, I'd like to hear your advice or tips on sentence flow and how to transition between character thoughts and whatnot (just flow in general) because I feel like that's what I struggle with when it comes to writing for me.

I am assuming that you mean transitioning from dialogue/commentary to exposition paragraphs? that's what I'll go with pls tell me if I'm wrong!!!

lemme write an example:

'she'd never seen such a magnificent flower before - the petals were a silvery velvet that glistened in the dawn sunlight. It reminded her of her mother's skirts. A sense of warm nostalgia swept over her at the memory of the flowing fabric that swayed around Mother's ankles.

the rest of the field contained similarly beautiful flora, varying in size from thimble to elephant ear.'

The pink is a character opinion/thought, and the white is the exposition and objective description. when a paragraph is narrated by a character, it reads best to mix them together. When you chunk it like this:

'she'd never seen such a magnificent flower before. It reminded her of her mother's skirts. A sense of warm nostalgia swept over her at the memory of the flowing fabric that swayed around Mother's ankles.

the petals were a silvery velvet that glistened in the dawn sunlight. the rest of the field contained similarly beautiful flora, varying in size from thimble to elephant ear.'

and the expo/narration are kept separate, it's harder to visualize the connection between observation and the reactive thought.

tip 1: keep similar sentences together.

In the above example, I grouped the character's observation of the flower together with the actual description of it.

After, I grouped the memory of the mother's skirts with the emotion.

Finally, the next paragraph was still describing the foliage (aka tying in the initial description), though removed from the narration and still progresses throughout the scene.

does that make sense?

no?

lemme try again guys I got this.

When you transition from 'thought' to 'sight', it might look a little daunting. you'd think "gee I just spent an entire page describing an intense traumatic mental spiral. how do I transition to writing about the room they're in?"

Pick the similar attributes. The middle of the Venn diagram. Okay, character is having a panic attack. It's intense, it's descriptive, there's a lot of inner dialogue. Now, we have to describe the aftermath in relation to the state of the bedroom.

pull them out slowly. If a character is deep in reverie, describe the room how it feels to them. This is a slow transition out of 'me my mine everything about my opinion' description, to 'this is how it is cold turkey' description (plot development).

Example:

(panic attack, oh my god we're dying the world is ending I can't breathe help aahhh)

he shivered. The floorboards had grown cold since the episode started. A cool breeze slithered through the room, chilling him further. leftover adrenaline raised gooseflesh on his arms.

This is entirely objective. no opinion was inserted, but there was the stimulus and physical reaction to the surroundings. this still draws in the character-focused analysis without getting stuck in his head.

2. great sentences think alike. I sometimes feel that my transitions are chunky and not very smooth. Pick common themes to tie them together. "Oh okay, her skirt is blue, it's blue like cornflowers, cornflowers were anna's favorite, now i'm thinking of anna, she'd love it here. where is here? here is in a farmhouse kitchen with...." boom. I made a domino effect from the starting description (blue skirt) to the final destination/scene progression (farmhouse desc).

3. know when you've beat the dead horse. If you've been circling the drain over one thought or milked all the setting adjectives possible for one area, move on. when a scene/dialogue is sufficiently described, the readers are ready for a break.

does that help a little bit?

there was a second part to the request, right? sentence flow? cool beans.

Sentence flow is actually a really cool concept that if you master, you can add so much depth to your writing (i'll def make a part 2 post, stay tuned!).

If you structure a sentence really long and fast without the punctuation and it's just going and going and going oh no-

you start to feel anxious, right? when's it gonna end? what's the kicker? the tension is building and building....

Sentences are short. thin, staccato. not a lot of meat. no meat, maybe. just. bare. bones.

punching, intense, hard thoughts. a shocking discovery, your character doesn't have the processing capacity to think eloquently.

maybe they disobey grammar rules. fuck grammar rules. don't actually tho because you guys lowkey suck at grammar and i'm angry. no don't point out my bad punctuation i'm the teacher here.

point is, the flow of the sentence dictates the reaction. Shakespeare uses this with meter. when the meter is disrupted, it means something bad has happened. In Romeo and Juliet, every time a lie is told, the meter shifts out of iambic pentameter. it's like a 'heads up, something's wrong' to the audience.

USE THIS!!

also - read your story out loud. writers have a tendency to write how they talk. I am a comma fiend because I go off on so many anecdotes I pause all the time while I talk. When I read it out loud and take the necessary pauses though, I want to vomit.

If it's smut I can see how this might be hard for you, but another good idea is to hit hard the grammar rules. If there's a bunch of commas - read the sentence and enunciate the commas. that's how it will read to your audience.

common problems with sentence flow.

feeling long and heavy. if you're describing the action and you feel like you're being swamped in adverbs, take a look at your passive and active voice. passive: "The ball was kicked by Anna." active: "Anna kicked the ball." if your sentences are long and dragged down with adverbs, you're probably really passive.

too much information, not enough words. Thesaurus!! if you've been puzzling over a paragraph and it turns out all you needed were some synonyms, pull out a thesaurus! and a dictionary because remember: similar is not the same. just because a word has similar meanings doesn't mean there aren't special addendums to each.

lost in the sauce. where are we? what's happening? who are you? i'm hungry. too many succulent words! your sentences so big backed they out-backed Outback. long, frivolous words and ten-mile high stacks of adjectives only work sometimes and infrequently. otherwise you spend so much time describing the thing, we forget what the thing actually is.

losing the motivator. why are you writing this sentence/paragraph? what purpose is it supposed to be serving? keep that in mind so you don't lose track and if you do, it'll be easier to get back on it.

repetitive meter. the sentences follow the same pattern, like this one. almost like they're in a loop, circling forever. there's no escaping, you'll like read this till you die.

did you see the pattern? it starts to make you dizzy after a while, doesn't it? This is a common problem and fairly easy to break out of. Just chop up the sentences and glue them together.

*ahem* like so:

The sentences follow the same pattern, like this one. Almost like they're circling in a loop forever. There's no escaping. You'll read like this till you die.

same words, with some added/subtracted punctuation. If that doesn't work, rearrange the order, add in some new verbs or adjectives, maybe add a few filler sentences to space the pattern out.

that's all folks, i hope that answered your question, if not feel free to say so! I'm not offended.

xox keep writing!

#writing help #fiction writing #writing tips #writing advice #how to write #writing community #on writing #creative writing #exposition #sentence flow #writing prompt #dialogue prompt #writing ideas #writblr #requests #anon ask #thanks anon!

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poppy-metal · 5 months ago

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waaait omg what if art decided to be sneaky and use your fake phone he got for you against you- texting your number used for stalking purposes in class so he can hear who’s phone goes off

(idk if i worded this well, im tired 😭)

not him thinking a step ahead. but you're smarter.... you never bring your burner phone to lectures with you - but as you're both project partners, art does take notice to the way you always rush immediately out of class when it ends. like you're bolting from him, in a rush almost..... kind of hurts his feelings - he thinks he must have done something to make you uncomfortable around him and that makes him :/

really you're just hurrying off because you saw him typing and are too excited to see what he texted you. its kind of absurd - running from the very man of your dreams to.... talk to the man of your dreams - the same man - over the phone.

except when he texts you, what do you really like about me? you pause. you've made him doubt himself. it takes you awhile to text back but when you do its a paragraph.

im not delusional enough to think you're not flawed. you're insecure, you look down on people you dont agree with, you think you're morally superior, you're spiteful, jealous, and deeply unhonest with yourself. but - you're also kind. you hold doors open for people - not just women, but everyone - you smile when you meet eyes with someone even in passing (you've smiled at me), you have a tender heart, you play really good tennis, you share your lunch with your friend even though he's richer than you and you roll your eyes, you're sensitive and deeply emotional. to me, you're an angel. when i see you and when we talk im filled with light. and its not because you're perfect. its because you exist.

art stares at the message for a long time. swallows. lays down on his bed and stares and the ceiling and thinks - oh no. i might have feelings for my stalker.

#ask #creep!au #hehehe the plot thickens

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cheolism · 2 years ago

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you vs the universe

✧ jeon wonu x f!reader ✧ summary: you've had a bad day, starting from when the ac decided to give up in the middle of the night during summer. after a long, tiring day you return home to your beloved orange cat, butters, and your longtime crush/roommate, wonwoo ✧ wc is approx 4.2k ✧ tags: fluffy and comedy. roommates-to-lovers, mutual pining, the intimacy of mundane acts ✧ warnings: mentions of long hair; calls themself butters' "mother"; there's mentions of past injury; panic attack mention; mention of a sexual act but not in the context of it being sexual, but in the context of it being on a shirt bc i saw a sticker and got inspired ✧ note: sooooo the first two paragraphs are showing up messed up for me. There’s actually supposed to be another paragraph ahead of the current first one, but whenever I try and edit it in the post reverts back to the wrong one. So apologies for the first two paragraphs on here being messed up; when I try to fix it, it doesn’t work :(

You didn’t even want to enter your apartment complex. When you woke up in the early hours of night, you were covered in sweat. Your hair was stuck to the back of your neck, your shirt clung to your armpits. There was a damp spot on the bed from where you had been laying.

After using the restroom you stumbled to the thermostat, softly cursing your orange cat as he wound himself around your ankles. You had stared at the thermostat for a second, uncomprehending. Then you frantically fled to Wonwoo’s room and woke him up.

“Well,” he had mumbled, squinting at the bold 85 that the thermostat boasted. He fumbled with it for a moment, before relenting and announcing it was broken. “I’ll call the landlord in the morning. Not like anything can be done about it until everything opens up.”

So the two of you had opened the windows and turned on every fan in the apartment. You checked the temperature of Butters’ water fountain, ensuring the flow was still cold. Wonwoo had watched as you cooed at the tabby, reaching out and petting him before pressing quick kisses to his little orange head.

“You care more about Butters than you do me,” your roommate had said. His voice was deeper than usual, and you foolishly fought against how it seemed to force its way inside you and settle.

“Only slightly.” Your knees had cracked when you stood again. Wonwoo was looking at your shirt, and it was then you remembered the grey cotton had done absolutely nothing to soak up your sweat and instead a large stain spread out around the neck.

After bidding Wonwoo a good-night (for the second time in a night) you had discarded your pajamas and underwear, pulling out brand-new everything.

Which was what led to your current predicament, which was also further evidence that the universe was against you.

It wasn’t until you were standing in front of your building did you remember that the t-shirt you were wearing was your last clean one. It was the one Wonwoo had gotten you two years back when he and Mingyu had gone on a vacation to the Pacific Northwest that depicted a redwood tree and had the phrase “Big Red Stick National Forest” written across it. Even worse: you were also wearing your last clean pair of underwear, having intentionally set it aside yesterday evening as a reminder.

The air conditioning was back on in the apartment complex, but that did nothing to stop your bad mood or clothes from clinging to you; even worse, the cold air made your sweat stains turn cool and freeze against your skin.

“The whole universe is against me,” you announced upon entering your apartment. Wonwoo glanced over from his spot on the couch. Butters stood from where he had been curled up on Wonwoo’s chest, stretching out before jumping off.

“I think you’re exaggerating,” Wonwoo said, rather objectively.

Butters pranced over to you, looking like a small show pony. He stretched out his front legs one final time before looking up at you, blinking his huge green eyes, and screaming.

“I know!” You agreed, leaning down and scooping Butters up into your arms. He immediately began purring. Butters forcefully rubbed his head underneath your chin and you returned the favor, rubbing your face in his. “Wonwoo just doesn’t understand us, Butters. He’s a meanie.”

“Now how is that fair?”

Wonwoo stood, stretching. You watched as he extended his arms up towards the ceiling, fingers splayed and reminding you of Butters after a nap. Wonwoo was wearing a tank top, one that hung from his frame and did nothing to hide his collarbone. His muscles flexed as he stretched and you couldn’t help but watch his biceps strain, and you sort of wondered what it felt like to press your hand against his lower back as he stretched, feeling how his muscles moved.

Once upon a time, Wonwoo was nothing but a string bean with awkward angles and too-sharp elbows and knees. That was the Jeon Wonwoo you had met; that was the Jeon Wonwoo you had agreed to room with.

But then he met Lee Jihoon and suddenly decided visiting the gym was a brilliant idea, filling one of your cupboard shelves with protein powder.

Again: proof the universe was against you.

You felt Butters take a deep breath, and then he was screaming again. You turned to look at him, and he reached up and settled a paw against your mouth. His lime eyes peered into yours and seemed to say “get it together, mother.”

He was right. You needed to get it together.

“Why is the universe against you?” Wonwoo finally asked, done with his stretching. He made his way to the door, his feet bare and hair sticking up on one side, looking so painfully domestic and sweet.

For a moment you let your mind wonder. You were a successful business woman returning from a long day at the office. There was air conditioning in your apartment. You were greeted by your trophy husband and cat. Wonwoo was telling you about his day, which consisted of cleaning and gaming. You were setting Butters back on the ground so you could grab Wonwoo around the waist, sneaking your hands up underneath that too-large tank top and settling them against his skin. You were kissing Wonwoo, unhurriedly and sweetly, taking all the time in the world because the matching rings on your fingers meant that the two of you were united forever, that you had until the end of the world to kiss Wonwoo and tell him you loved him.

And then Butters wiggled against you, moving so he could dangle over your shoulder and forcing you to hold him like you would hold a baby you were about to burp.

“First the air conditioning wasn't working.”

“Obviously.”

“The subway was crowded and stinky. My carriage smelled like someone pissed in it, and someone probably did. I tripped stepping off of the sidewalk and onto the crosswalk --”

“Are you okay?” Wonwoo interrupted, his dark eyebrows furrowing. He glanced over you, eyes darting behind his glasses. “Did you get hurt?”

You shook your head. Butters was purring so loudly that the neighbors could probably hear it. “Only my pride was hurt, if I’m honest. A nice man who was jogging stopped and helped me up.”

Wonwoo’s eyes narrowed for a split second before his face took on his normal neutral look. You wondered if he was still hooked on the prospect of you falling. A handful of months ago you had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, walking in front of Soonyoung just as Seungcheol launched a killer pitch at him, the ball slamming into your stomach and causing you to double over.

Wonwoo hadn’t seen it happen; had only heard Seungcheol and Soonyoung’s shouts from the kitchen where he and a few others had been talking. You remember Wonwoo suddenly appearing at your side, practically shoving Soonyoung away from you and taking you into his arms. You remember him petting your head as you cried from the pain, Seungcheol recounting what had happened; you also recall Wonwoo shouting at Seungcheol and Soonyoung, whisking you away from the get-together and ignoring his two friends for a week.

That entire week he was hovering around you. He would routinely ask if it was okay to touch your stomach, if he could look at it, just to see the progress of the violent bruise that was forming. Wonwoo constantly had a frozen bag of peas or corn ready for you, switching one out whenever he deemed it too warm. It wasn’t until the bruise was fading and you urged him to get in contact with Seungcheol and Soonyoung did he finally let up on his mothering.

He was a good friend, caring so much about your wellbeing. Your heart fluttered a little at his concern, and you shifted Butters in your hold so you could reach out and squeeze his arm. “Don’t worry about it, Wonwoo! I didn’t even land hard enough to get a scratch, see?”

You offered the hand of your palm for him to inspect. He glanced at it casually. He then reached out and grabbed your wrist, eyes trained on the skin there. “That was nice of the old man to help you,” Wonwoo said.

“Oh, he wasn’t old.” He kept his eyes trained on your palm. You wiggled your fingers. You wanted him to look away from your hand with that serious look, wanted him to instead meet your eyes with his dark ones and be on the receiving end of such an open display of devotion. But instead it was your hand he looked at with such seriousness.

Again: the universe was against you.

“Thought you said he was an old man,” Wonwoo returned, tone casually. He pushed up his glasses.

You shook your head, Butters letting out a trill of discontent at the movement. “No, I reckon he was around our age? You should’ve seen his calf muscles, Wonie. They were huge.”

Wonwoo hummed a little. His thumb began brushing against your palm, gently swiping the skin there. Your heart began to beat in rhythm with the movement of his thumb. “Did you get his number, then?”

You furrowed your brow. “Why on Earth would I do that?”

Wonwoo finally looked up from your hand. His eyes no longer had that serious look to them, and a small smile curled the edge of his lips. You liked how he grinned like that, when his smiles weren’t large enough and instead seemed to play with only one side of his mouth. It made him look adorable; endearing; sweet.

“Okay. So no air conditioning; you tripped; the subway smelled like piss. What else am I missing?”

Wonwoo’s thumb stopped brushing against your palm. He released your hand. You immediately missed it and wanted to reach out and return his hand to its rightful place in yours.

“Uh. My chapstick was so hot from the weather that when I went to apply it, it was all mush. My airpods disconnected and Taemin’s MOVE blasted in the elevator. A toddler was screaming in the middle of the CVS and I honestly wanted to start screaming with him, because today has fucking sucked.”

Wonwoo nodded. He was still grinning. “Wow. Anything else?”

“My clothes are smelly and wet -- even my underwear.”

Wonwoo blinked.

Your eyes widened. You let out a shriek; Butters screamed with you. “NO -- they’re wet from sweat! I’m wet from sweating! Not from anything else -- just sweat! Because it’s so hot! It’s hot outside!”

“Ah,” Wonwoo’s mouth was agape, eyes round. He glanced at the wall. Back at you. At Butters. Back at you.

The universe was fucking against you.

“You can borrow some of mine,” he said.

And because the universe was so against you that even your own self was against you, you agreed.

The t-shirt he gave you was several sizes too-large, as Wonwoo tended to go for comfort over what looked good more often than not. It was from the vacation you, he, Mingyu, Seokmin and Minghao had taken around Christmas. You had said something about the Grand Canyon being the perfect place to take pictures and then suddenly Wonwoo was presenting you with a plane ticket and saying your flight was the next day.

And so your little group of photography nerds had ooo’d and aaah’d the Grand Canyon. Wonwoo hadn’t gotten a shirt at the giftshop, you remember (and tried to shove away the shame you felt at remembering something as little as that), but at a gas station several miles out he had suddenly appeared with a plastic bag and a large smile.

Then he had presented you with the shirt you were wearing currently. It had a picture of the Grand Canyon with a little hiker on the edge. There was a quote bubble coming out from the hiker that said “I rimmed the Grand Canyon”.

Seokmin had actually peed himself from laughing so hard.

His underwear was snug around your middle, and you tightened your shorts in an effort to keep them up. You walked from the bathroom, feeling infinitely better. Wonwoo was setting a bowl next to the sink, and as soon as he caught sight of you his eyes went almost comically wide. You did a little spin, Butters screaming at your feet.

“Ta-dah!” You cheered, doing jazz hands. “Better, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo agreed. “Loads better.”

You joined Wonwoo at the sink, pushing your hair behind your ears. A fan sat on top of the kitchen table, practically starting a tornado from how violently it spun the air.

“What’s up with your buddy over there,” you asked, nodding towards the fan.

Wonwoo looked over at the fan. He had been looking at your chest, but to be fair to him, that was where the iconic text that still sent Seokmin into hysterics eight months later was. Wonwoo was probably just reading the phrase and reliving Seokmin’s embarrassment at having wet himself.

“Ah,” Wonwoo began. He pushed up his glasses. “I had cereal and it was hot.”

“Your cereal was hot?”

He looked back at you, eyebrows raising. “No? What -- why the fuck would my cereal be hot?”

“You just said it was!”

“No? I meant it was hot in the apartment,” he clarified. Wonwoo’s voice had that same tone he got when he found someone absolutely ridiculous. “The heat is definitely getting to you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever. But I do know you’re not leaving me to do all these dishes.”

The pile was tragic. It was tragic in that it was a sore reminder that even with the two of you combined, you and Wonwoo didn’t have a single responsible brain cell. Or perhaps you did; Butters was still alive, afterall. So that had to qualify for something.

At least the pile was washed off, you justified.

It could be worse.

Like Seokmin and Soonyoung’s shared apartment.

“Okay,” Wonwoo began. He turned to face the dishes with you, hands splayed on the counter. His hands were tan, just like the rest of him, from spending time outside exercising with Mingyu (Jihoon absolutely refused to exercise outside). Every time you looked at his hands and were reminded of how large they were, you couldn’t help but swallow and try to combat the heat that flashed through you.

His hands were big. Almost comically big. Except it wasn’t funny how everytime you saw his hands you wanted to reach out and lace your fingers through his, you wanted to press kisses to his palms, wanted to know how it felt to have his hands settled at the base of your neck, guiding your head into a kiss --

Anyways. Anyways.

There was a dull thud. You looked to see Butters peering over the edge of the coffee table at a book he had no doubt pushed off. He looked away from the book and at you. Your eyes met, and you knew for a fact that if Butters was capable of judging another being, he would absolutely be judging you.

“You were going to leave the dishes to me, though,” Wonwoo pointed out. You looked at him. He was smiling down at you, eyes crinkling.

“Okay, you caught me,” you returned. “Now that we both know each other’s evil plan, let’s do them together.”

There was a brief pause. And then Wonwoo narrowed his eyes, cocking his head. “Do you hear that?”

You went still, trying to listen. “No, I don’t. What --”

“My phone is ringing,” Wonwoo said, pushing away from the sink. “I better go and see who it is!”

“I see your PHONE IN YOUR POCKET, ASSHOLE!”

Nonetheless, you shoved your hair back from your face and looked down at the pile of dishes. Sighing, hopefully loud enough for Wonwoo to hear, you forcefully turned on the water. You shoved the plug into the sink, vowing to make Wonwoo pay somehow.

You rearranged the dishes, setting the larger bowls and plates on the counter. You tucked your escaping bangs back behind your ears again. You began with the bowls, scrubbing them and trying to come up with a master plan to get Wonwoo back for his desertion.

Maybe you could only do your half of the dishes and leave his dirty ones. But then he’d catch on and just start ordering out more in an effort to not have to clean. You could make him clean out the litter box, but it was his turn to do it anyway. You could invite him to a movie night and make him watch the Barbie movies, but then again he somehow always found a way to enjoy himself during them.

You could make him watch a kid’s show. Maybe like Bluey? Fuck wait, though, you genuinely enjoyed Bluey and didn’t want to turn it into a punishment.

You let out a groan when your bangs fell from behind your ears, obscuring part of your vision again. You shoved them back, uncaring of the water that fell from your hands and dripped onto the shirt.

Oh! You could invite him to a movie night and invite Mingyu and not tell him! You had unintentionally done it once, having forgotten to tell Wonwoo that you had invited your mutual friend until Mingyu was knocking on the apartment door. Wonwoo had seemed sour the entire night, but you waved it off at him just being pissed that Mingyu took the last soda from the fridge.

Yes. That was the play.

You grinned at your brilliance, wiggling a little in celebration. Your hair shifted and once again your bangs fell to your face, dangling in front of your eyes.

Groaning, you lifted your hands from the soapy water to try and force your hair to obey you and keep away from your face. Then two hands settled on your waist, squeezing.

You jumped, shrieking a little. Wonwoo laughed, his chuckle deep and bringing heat to your cheeks. He squeezed your waist again. “Just me.”

“Well I know that now,” you snapped. “Announce yourself next time, dude. Could’ve been holding a knife and stabbed you. Reflexively.”

“Reflexively,” he mocked, before letting out another huff of laughter. You felt his warm breath on the back of your neck. Despite the humidity and heat, you shivered.

His hands moved from your waist, but you didn’t get a chance to miss them as they traveled up your body, close enough for you to feel the ghost of them. “Don’t move, baby.”

Obediently, terribly obediently, you went still. His long fingers carded through your hair, untangling it. If you were Butters you would have been purring. Then Wonwoo chuckled again as if he was laughing at you, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you were somehow purring. Then you caught yourself leaning back into his touch and realized why he was laughing.

You immediately straightened, pushing as close to the sink as you could. The edge of the counter dug into your stomach.

Wonwoo tugged one of your locks of hair. “Listen to me,” he chastised you. “I told you to be still.”

“I am,” you whined.

He didn’t say anything. His hands returned to your hair. Wonwoo’s fingers resumed their petting, but this time they didn’t linger. He pulled at your hair, gathering it. It wasn’t until he was tying the scrunchie around your hair a second time did you realize what he was doing.

Your roommate was tying your hair up for you.

Wonwoo was tying your hair for you.

Jeon Wonwoo, the man you‘ve been daydreaming about for the past two years, the man you’ve been imagining holding hands and even kissing, was putting up your hair. He had seen you struggle with your bangs and took it upon himself to help you. He didn’t just hand you the scrunchie but did it himself.

You turned around as soon as you felt him tighten the scrunchie enough so it would hold. You peered up at him; he looked back down at you. His face was as neutral as ever, but even then you saw the little shine in his dark eyes. You wondered if you were delusional, wondered if he felt the same pull you did, if he felt the string that tied the two of you together tighten and urge you together.

“Why did you do that?

Wonwoo was quiet for a moment. Then he tilted his head, eyes narrow and sharp. “Guess.”

And then he was pulling away from you completely. Your mind was blank as he took a handful of steps away from you, watching him run a hand through his black hair and the muscles on his back flex.

Guess.

You were on him in a second.

Your hands went to his waist, turning him towards you as you lifted yourself onto the tip of your toes. He was leaning down to you, one of his hands going to your shoulder, bringing you close, the other to your cheek, guiding you to his mouth.

It was frantic and messy. He was pulling you closer and closer, arm wrapping around your shoulders and fingers sinking into your hair. His mouth was hot against yours, his tongue insistent and sloppy as it forced its way into your mouth. You let him in, your hands hurriedly shoving up the hem of his tank top and flattening against his skin. You felt the warmth of him, both from his skin and his mouth.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Fuck.”

You let out a soft little noise somewhere between a sigh and a moan. He cursed again, his hands moving. One cupped your jaw and the other went to your neck. You let him manipulate you, his mouth taking and taking from yours, his teeth biting down on your lip.

The hand in your hair pulled sharply; you gasped.

Wonwoo pulled away. The hand on your jaw moved, the other one still holding you in place. You watched, heart fluttering and gut clenching, as he removed his glasses and tossed them onto the table.

And then his mouth descended onto yours, devouring once more. He pressed ever closer, his hand traveling to grip at your waist. He murmured your name, chanted it, as if it were ancient words of prayer. Wonwoo kissed you like you were a god and it was his offering, spit smearing across your mouths and nails digging into skin.

There was an inhuman scream. You let out a shout of your own against Wonwoo’s mouth, pulling away and whipping your head towards the sound.

Butters screamed again, scrambling against the coffee table before launching himself off it. He continued his scream as he sprinted across the living room and into the kitchen, his orange tail pointed straight up into the air. Butters slid on the hard floor as he came upon his food bowl, where the automated feeder was dinging and announcing dinner time.

You watched your orange cat inhale his food, completely unaware (or uncaring) of what had just taken place between his parents. Slowly you turned to look up at Wonwoo, who was already looking at you.

“Uh,” you eloquently began. Shyness crept its way into you, as if you didn’t just have Wonwoo’s tongue down your throat and weren’t half a second away from offering yourself on a silver platter.

“Hi,” he returned, just as awkwardly. He shifted, his hands moving. One remained at your waist while the other went to the table, retrieving the glasses he had heatedly discarded.

You watched as he put them back on. The air was silent between the two of you, but just as rigid as in the moments leading up to the kiss. But instead of filling you with passion and heat it made you cringe, your hands flexing against Wonwoo’s bare back.

“Okay --” “So here’s the thing --”

Both of you abruptly broke off. You and Wonwoo were both still as you waited for the other to continue. When neither of you did you couldn’t help but giggle, pitching yourself forward to bury your face into his chest.

Wonwoo’s chest rumbled as he laughed, his arms going around you to hold you close. You felt him press his face into your hair, glasses digging into the top of your head. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest, thudding loud against your ribcage.

This was it.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for like, two years,” you mumbled into his shirt, words rushed and your mouth practically smashing against his chest.

Wonwoo was still for a moment. You felt as if eternity had fit itself into those few seconds of pause, your heart coming to a complete still as your mind leapt to conclusions. This was the moment everything would change, and your brain was screaming like Butters did at midnight when he found either you or Wonwoo's bedroom doors closed.

Then he was pulling you away from him, one of his hands coming to guide your chin so you were looking up at him. His eyes were soft and sweet, and the corner of his mouth was beginning to pull up in a smile. “Say that again? I didn’t hear you.”

“Yes you did,” you protested. You were grinning; your heart was dancing. “Asshole.”

Wonwoo chuckled again, and then his mouth descended on yours.

Okay. Maybe the universe wasn’t completely against you.

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bella-rose29 · 11 months ago

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Deck the Halls (and not your partner) - part 7

the mistletoe scene I have to give credit to the lovely @novelizt because of this post

this is basically just 3.5k words of fluff to make up for all the pain I put you through the last two parts

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: swearing, making out (it's happening people, but also it's mildly in detail so for the one tiny paragraph feel free to skip if you're either not comfortable with it or not old enough), Will asks the important questions (both sensible and not), brief mentions of self-esteem issues? lockwood is a bit silly at the end, actually they both are

series master list

(why does he look like this :3 😭)

"What?" Y/n breathed. She wasn't entirely sure that she'd heard Lockwood correctly.

"I said that I think I've fallen for you."

He looked so sincere, his eyes more vulnerable than she had ever seen them before, and Y/n felt her heart constrict in her chest.

"You..."

"I know, I know." He rubbed his hand over his face, turning to lean back against the window. The mistletoe still hung at his side in his other hand.

"But you were horrible to me! From the very start!"

"I know. I was awful to you that first night and my only excuse is that I was exhausted and in desperate need of my bed, which I know isn't good enough. And then when you came in for your interview I just didn't want to be the one responsible if anything happened to you - wait, that came out wrong. You walked into the doorframe, Y/n. I was worried that you'd hurt yourself on a job, and I didn't want to get too attached to you in case that happened and you got injured or hospitalised or worse and I couldn't do anything to stop it. When I saw how easily the others took to you I knew that I was doomed," he let out a laugh, shaking his head. Y/n hoped he realised how ridiculous he sounded. "I know that doesn't excuse my actions, Y/n, but I meant what I said about that job we took in March. I really thought I wouldn't get there in time and I was terrified."

"Lockwood... you can't just... say that! I mean, you have said some genuinely horrible things to me and now you're saying that you - you what? That you-"

"I don't know!" he cried, filled with exasperation. "Alright? I don't know how else to describe it! I don't know if how I feel is love because I've never felt like this before, but I do know that I care about you far more than I should given I'm your boss, and I really don't know what would happen to me if you got seriously hurt, alright?" He was out of breath, cheeks flushed as he looked at her, and Y/n felt her own face heating up at his admission.

"Okay, okay," she said quietly, still processing everything he'd said. They stayed there for a few minutes, both leaning back against the windows as they tried to figure out what the hell they were going to do now. "I don't..." Y/n broke off with a sigh. She needed to phrase this right or they would be in even deeper shit than they were before. "I don't think I can just... forgive you, Lockwood. You have a lot - and I mean a lot - of grovelling to do to make up for how you've treated me these last few years." He nodded frantically, hope starting to shine in his eyes.

"Anything," he said. "Anything at all." She knew that he meant it.

"And I want to go on more cases if I'm staying at the company, because you can't just keep me behind because you think I'll walk into a doorframe."

"Done." He paused for a moment, looking like he wanted to say something else. "But you have-"

"Nope! No protests, thank you!" He stopped talking immediately, looking rather like a lost puppy as he gazed at her. "No more hating each other, either, although I feel like that's a given. And the first date had better be fucking incredible, alright?"

"... First... date?"

"Yeah, keep up, Schmoopie." She couldn't deny how her heart lifted at the sight of Lockwood looking so happy, and when he grinned her responding smile was involuntary.

"Wait... so do you... you know. How do you feel, about..." he waved his hands vaguely in the air, then accidentally hit himself in the face with the mistletoe. "Shit, I think that went in my eye. I forgot I was holding that," he grumbled, and Y/n didn't bother biting back her snort. He sent her a glare, but there was only amusement behind it.

"I don't really know, Lockwood."

"Anthony."

"What?"

"If we're going to start dating I'd much rather you called me Anthony." He blushed and went quiet as he looked out the window. "I like it better when you call me Anthony anyway. Sorry, I uh, I interrupted you."

"Oh, no, that's... that's alright. Uh... yeah. Like you said, I don't know how to describe it. I know that it really hurt me when you said that you wouldn't ever feel the same way, and I guess I just didn't want to admit to myself that I care about you a lot too because you were such a huge arsehole to me-"

"Yes, got it, sorry again."

"-but I do care about you, Anthony. A lot. And honestly that does annoy me because I'm pretty sure I've liked you since we met because I did think you were really gorgeous, except then you were really rude and-"

"Wait wait wait wait wait," he exclaimed, waving his hands in front of him. "You think that I'm gorgeous?"

Now it was Y/n's turn to feel her face heat up, and she swatted at his hands. "I did, yeah. Then you opened your mouth."

"Oh."

"Yeah." She waited a moment, then spoke again. "If you must know, I still think you're gorgeous," she muttered, and Anthony lit up, a smug smile landing on his face. Surprisingly she'd missed them, and while she still felt the burning flames in her body at the sight of that stupid smirk, it was no longer hatred.

He stepped forward a little (only a little, since they were back to being incredibly close to each other) and held the mistletoe in both of his hands. "Your grandma Jean gave it to me," he said. "She told me we might need it because it used to be a symbol of peace, and if people met under it they had to stop fighting." They both had been looking down at the plant, but when Anthony lifted his head so did she, and her breath caught in her throat at the look in his eyes.

"So you want to kiss me again?"

"I mean, I wouldn't be entirely opposed to that, if you're offering."

"Really? Really, Anthony?" Her tone was joking, but she felt him move back almost imperceptibly when she didn't immediately agree to it, and her heart skipped a beat when she realised he was waiting for her permission.

"Well I can't kiss you if we aren't under it, can I? So I don't know what you're so worried about, darling."

"Better try and catch me then if you want a kiss," she teased, and leapt away a second later.

"We're running now? When we've just had a huge meal?" He stepped forward anyway, and Y/n laughed with pure joy when he started chasing her around the room, attempting to catch her but just missing every time. Finally she tripped, catching her foot on the corner of the bed, and Anthony swept her into his arms to stop her from hitting the floor. Instead they hit the mattress, Y/n landing on her back and Anthony on top of her, his arms bracing his body while he still clutched the mistletoe in his left hand. They were both breathing heavily from the last five minutes of running and laughing, and now their faces were so close together that they were essentially kissing already.

Anthony held up the mistletoe over their heads the best he could while simultaneously not collapsing on Y/n, and he raised his eyebrows at her. "May I kiss you, darling?" She couldn't speak, so she nodded instead, and within a second his mouth was on hers, somehow better than it had been the first time. It was tentative and small, and he pulled back to flick his gaze between her eyes and her lips. It had left her breathless despite how short it had been, and before she could think they were crashing into each other with the same passion as they had the night before, her hands lifting to grab his hoodie and his hair in desperation. At some point Anthony dropped the mistletoe to move his hand to her waist and bring her closer to him.

There was nothing but him, nothing but the weight of his body on top of hers and his hands touching her and his tongue in her mouth, and then he was pulling back for air and she was chasing after his lips, and he was smiling down at her like she was the only thing that mattered.

For whatever reason, they started laughing, Anthony dropping his head to nestle in the crook of her neck while Y/n wrapped her arms around his torso to bring him impossibly closer.

"So... does this mean I can call you my girlfriend?" he asked, hope making him light up like the Christmas tree they had in the living room.

"Yes, Anthony, you can call me your girlfriend," she laughed, and it turned into a snort when he got up and did a celebratory dance. "You're ridiculous, you know that?"

"Oh, believe me darling, I am fully aware."

~~~

"Hey, Squeak. You alright?"

Y/n had been sitting in the library, staring out the window at the snow that had started falling while she tried to concentrate on the book in her hands. Anthony had been called into the living room by her parents, and they'd parted with a not-so-small kiss just out of view of her family. Will had apparently managed to find her, and was settling into the opposite side of the window seat that she was occupying. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"I dunno. You seemed a bit... off. At dinner. Is everything alright with you and Lover Boy?"

"Oh," her face burned at the memory of what had happened barely twenty minutes ago. "Yeah, we're all good." She awkwardly sent him a thumbs up, her smile more of a grimace than anything else, and Will looked unconvinced.

"What's really going on, Y/n/n? Because if I need to beat him up-"

"NO! No, don't... don't beat up my boyfriend, please." It felt weird calling Anthony her boyfriend now, despite it being more real than it ever had been before. "Really, we're fine."

"Fine? You're fine? What did you two talk about upstairs? Because I'm pretty sure I heard shouting."

"We were just..." At the look on her brother's face she trailed off, and glanced at the door to make sure it was closed. "What exactly did Mum say when she got off the phone with me a few days ago?"

"What do you mean?"

"When she told people that I had a boyfriend, what did she say? How did you find out?"

"Mum went into the kitchen to take your call because we were all in here playing board games, and then we heard her shout 'You have a boyfriend?!' and Linda went to investigate, and then you turned up with Lover Boy."

"And are you sure that Mum wasn't just... making it up for some reason?"

"Why would she make it up?"

"Because I didn't have a boyfriend, Will."

"But... if you don't have a boyfriend then why the hell are you making out with your boss?"

"We are not making out!"

"Sure. But when you kissed yesterday under that mistletoe," he pointed to where it hung over the library door, "I definitely saw tongue."

"WILL!" She picked up the nearest pillow and chucked it at his head, then hid her face behind her book. "Oh my god, this is not happening."

"Ok, but that still doesn't answer my question," he said after half-heartedly throwing the pillow back at her. "If you didn't have a boyfriend, then why is your boss here saying that you're dating?"

"Because I made him. We actually can't stand each other. Or, we couldn't. We made up. Ugh, this is complicated. We have hated each other for about three years and then when Mum said very loudly that I was bringing my boyfriend to Christmas in front of Linda I didn't have much of a choice but to bring someone or face utter humiliation. Apparently nobody wanted to go to the middle of the countryside for three days with a complete stranger and pretend to be her boyfriend so I had to ask Anthony because George was already busy, and honestly I think we did a pretty good job of hiding the fact that we hated each other."

"And the shouting was you making up? Or were you angrily making out?"

"Will! Fuck's sake! Making up. I did tell him he's got a lot of grovelling to do, but now we're actually together."

"So you did make out."

"What's with the weird obsession about whether or not I'm making out with him?"

"I just like making you uncomfortable. That's my job."

"Well quit your job and get a different one." They sat in silence for a while, just staring out the window at the dark landscape. Although she knew that Will couldn't see them, she still pointed out the few ghostly figures that she saw. Her Sight wasn't nearly as good as Anthony's when she wasn't using her Touch, but she could still make out the glowing shapes in the fields.

"While we're on the topic of jobs... I'm guessing you're not leaving the company anymore," he said after a while.

"What?" she asked, startled by his words. "What do you mean?"

"I heard you at dinner, Squeak. You said you were gonna leave the company. I didn't hear anything else 'cause Nanna Jean was talking to me about her garden again for like, the eighth time today, but when I heard you say that... I dunno. You love your job, and I didn't think there was anything that would make you leave it."

"I wouldn't have stopped being an agent, I would have just moved company. He said a lot of mean things, and in fairness I said some horrible shit too, but he's not got that much power over me."

"Squeak... are you sure you wanna be dating him? If he hurt you so bad that you wanted to leave the company then I don't know if it's the best idea," Will frowned, concern in every inch of his body.

"I know. If he fucks this up then I am leaving. Properly. Because I know that it's not... ugh, I don't know. I was just tired of not being treated in the same way that he treated the others, and he's explained why he was like that, and he was weirdly similar to a puppy when he apologised - not that that convinced me to date him, by the way - and I really hurt him too, over the years."

"Just... out of interest... what exactly did you say to each other that made you start hating each other this much?"

"I was walking back from a solo case, walked into him, apologised, stepped on his shoes, and he told me that he'd just bought them in the most stuck-up voice I had ever heard and it pissed me off." Will stared at her.

"That's... it?"

"To be fair I then went for an interview at his company, didn't realise it was him, and the moment I walked in he went 'we don't want agents like you' or something, so... you know!"

"Okay... that's still not a lot though. You really started what, three years of hatred based on... on that?"

"Well, when you put it that way it sounds stupid, but-"

"No, no 'buts', missy," Will said, waggon his finger at her. "It is just plain stupid. Did you actually hurt each other or were you too busy being idiots?"

"In fairness I really struggle with keeping up to other peoples' standards, alright?! And it did hurt that nothing I did ever seemed to be enough to make him like me!"

"With the way he was talking about you, he definitely likes you. And thinks you're good enough. You have nothing to worry about there, that's for sure." Y/n flushed at Will's words, thinking back to what she'd overheard Anthony say in this same room the day before.

"So explain to me your feelings on this? Because I feel like you went through every emotion known to man just now."

"I initially thought you two were great together because you're a lot more confident in yourself when he's around, then you told me you weren't together and I was incredibly confused, then you told me that you hated each other and I was even more confused, then you told me that you are actually together now and I was happy, and then you told me that he was horrible to you and I wanted to beat him up, and then you told me that you stepped on his shoes and that's why you hate each other and I was confused again. Make sense?"

"Just about. It wasn't just me stepping on his shoes that-"

"Nope!" Will turned his head away, lifting his hand out in front of him to stop her. "I don't want to hear anymore of this silliness, thank you very much!"

"But it-"

"Nope!" Will pushed forward, grabbing the pillow that he had earlier thrown back to Y/n and whacked her around the head with it. "Nope, nope, nope!" Each 'nope' was punctuated with another hit, and Y/n barely had time to pick up the other pillow and fight back before he was swinging again.

~~~

"Hey," Y/n whispered to Anthony as she came over. He had been sat in the loveseat again (he was almost completely certain that Y/n's family were leaving it specifically for the two of them to use, since her five siblings were squished up on one of the sofas most of the time), and he put down his mug of tea to help her sit comfortably.

"Hi," he whispered back, immediately wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her back to curl into him. She brought her legs up to hook over his and was turned sideways in the seat, her head nestling into his shoulder. He picked up his tea again and was about to take a sip when Will burst into the living room, board game in hand and a slightly crazed look in his eyes.

"We're playing Yahtzee! Everybody take a sheet, you don't have a choice in this!"

"Is this the one you're terrible at?" Anthony asked, speaking quietly into Y/n's ear, and he chuckled when she slapped his arm.

"You can't be terrible at Yahtzee, Anthony, it's a fucking dice game. It's based on luck, idiot."

"Oh, right, silly me. I meant charades. That one you are truly awful at."

"Just because you get really into it and put on ridiculously large hats doesn't mean I'm awful at it," she responded indignantly. "Also, by the way, the use of props is against the rules of charades, so technically you've lost every single one you've done."

"I have not!" he jokingly started, putting on an accent and pretending to be mad. "I am the best at charades! How dare you accuse me of- mmph!" Y/n shut him up by pressing a kiss to his lips, and while he sat there for a moment with his eyes wide open and his posture incredibly tense, he quickly relaxed into it. He still wasn't used to kissing her, and he didn't think that he ever would be, and when she pulled away a few seconds later he was left to chase after her mouth while she giggled.

"Sure, whatever makes you happy, Ant." That was another thing he'd never get used to. The way she said his name. He didn't think he'd heard anything sweeter, and then she was laughing at something one of her family members had said and he realised that he would spend his whole life documenting which of all the things she did was the most heavenly.

"You're what makes me happy, darling," he mumbled, not expecting her to hear. She looked round at him, surprise on her face. He thought she might say something nice in response, but instead when she opened her mouth something else came out.

"You are so cheesy, Anthony Lockwood."

"I'm just getting started, darling. Like you said, I have a lot of grovelling to do. I hope you're ready for how cheesy I can be." Y/n wrinkled her nose in disgust, but the wide grin on her face gave her away.

"That sounded weird," she said, and he leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to her nose. He shrugged in response.

"You're just going to have to get used to it, I'm afraid."

"Good. Hopefully you'll finish all the grovelling needed by the time you're about thirty, then."

"I'm grovelling every second of every day if it means I get to keep you near me, darling," he replied, and he revelled in the flush that crept up her neck. He accepted his score sheet from Will (who was getting very serious about the game, making sure that nobody would be cheating by using loaded dice), and took a sip of tea.

Then he nearly spat it out when he fully registered what Y/n had said.

"Thirty?!"

part 8

Tag list (once more hoping that this is everyone): @ahead-fullofdreams, @aislinrayne, @anathemaloren, @anthgoldenhrry, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss, @aysha4life, @bobbys-not-that-small, @briar-rose23, @curseofhecate, @dangelnleif, @edible-rat-vomit, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @ettadear, @fearlessmoony, @fudosl, @idkbubs, @imaginebeingmentallystable, @informedimagining, @karensirkobabes, @lady-ashfade, @light-23, @locklyebrainrot, @locklyle1kanij, @locknco, @magicandrosewaters, @mentallyillsodapop, @mischivana, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @newbooksmell777, @no-morning-glories, @novelizt, @phlooper, @ran23sblog, @reggiepeterss, @simrah1012, @somethingrandomwatzit, @star-of-velaris, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @whistle1whistle, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife, @y0urm0m12

let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the tag list! <3

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood x reader #enemies to lovers #fake dating #christmas #deck the halls (and not your partner)

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proverbsss · 1 year ago

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reading you right (father paul hill/john pruitt x reader) -nsfw

Father Paul Hill, Midnight Mass

prompt(s): "Me. You. Bed. Now." [from this post]

[Pt. 2 Out Now!! Linked Here :)]

anon: I had a normal amount of fun writing this, hope you enjoy :) i wanna do a pt. 2 because ofc i do,, honestly I got a lil hot n bothered lmao

notifs: paul hill is a tease!! ; shoe-grinding ; fluffy smut ; hierophilia ; you're father paul's dirty little secret ; denial ; reader begging ; reader's down HORRENDOUS ; terms used: good girl, slutty thing, pet

"You've been lying there moaning for ten minutes." Father Paul chuckles, trying to focus on his reading.

You feel your leg twitch as you lay on your stomach, looking a bit dazed across the room. A giggle escapes you. In your mind's eye a constant stream of images plays- every dirty thing you’ve done with Father Paul in the last 48 hours, a rare weekend’s reprieve from prying Beverly Keane, sitting bedside with her sister or aunt or who-the-hell cares on the mainland. It was too easy to sneak into the house behind St. Patrick’s, and too goddamn pleasurable to leave after the first night. A delightful ease of domesticity has settled over the two of you. And you’re even more whipped for the Father than you were when this whole messy arrangement began.

"I can't help it-"

"It's understandable to whine like a whore while I'm still inside you, but cooing like that when I'm not even touching you is a little ridiculous." Smug, he licks his finger and turns a page. "A man's ego can only grow so big."

“What are you reading?” you ask, completely uninterested, and your voice betrays it. You might enjoy a good book now and again, but something worlds more tempting is sitting before you. In his jeans and tee shirt, only his glossy ankle boots remaining, Paul is a rare sight out of uniform, like something sent from heaven. Or Hell. Both, somehow.

“You asked me that fifteen minutes ago. Or did you forget already?” He shoots you a disapproving, but playful look. He can hardly resist you more than you can him. Hardly. There is that last smidgeon of reserve that Paul prides himself on. He can’t be bothered to think of you as a sin, because life’s become far, far more complicated in the last few months than any one man can hold in his head, and because it feels like paradise to touch you.

Caught in your inattention, you abandon the ruse of asking about his book. "You fucked me too good...." You whine.

"You're going to complain about it?" He laughs at you.

"You're laughing at me."

"Of course I'm laughing at you," he admonishes. Not to be taken in by your wiles, Paul's eyes trace the paragraph he's started unsuccessfully three times.

"You whine before I fuck you, you whine while I fuck you, and you whine after I've fucked you. You're silly."

The vision renews itself in your mind of last night creeping around in here, your excitement waiting in the antechamber of St. Patrick’s late at night, Paul sneaking up on you in the dark and taking you in that muggy little den where they keep the wine and spare things. You want him to grunt against your ear like that again, to fuck you like he needs you in order to breathe.

"I'm not silly!" You gasp out. He hears the difference in your voice and scans your body with his eyes. Grinning. He licks his bottom lip and pretends the fool. “I want it, please, I want it, I don’t caaaare…” Your caterwauling would be annoying if it wasn’t so bone-deep genuine. Paul could probably keep you here forever as a pet, a secret from innocuous parishioners, visitors from all walks of life, and you’d be satisfied as long as he used you from time to time. Fed you.

“Oh, that’s undignified.” He smiles, turns the page and hopes he can pick up without the aid of the passage his mind simply refused to retain.

You get on all fours and start to crawl over to him. You tug on the leg of his jeans, utterly debased.

“You’re insatiable, you know that?” his tongue flicks and flutters around the word in a musical way that you know you could find better uses for. You nod. His voice. He could guide you anywhere with it. To make things worse, he imitates you. The facsimile of your lust in his voice is enough to make you jump him. “‘Father, I can't focus on my book....Father, please fuck me with your fingers, I can't without it, I need it...I told you pack things to stay because I imagined I’d be enjoying some downtime other than between my sheets.'"

You bite your lip, the adoring way you look up at him unfairly reminiscent of Biblical portraiture, the Madonna (too ineffably ironic), Saint Lucia, devout, suppliant little succubi. Paul’s heart breaks a little, and his cock twitches with interest, which he endeavors to suppress.

“What’s that look for, child?” He plays up the religious bent of your dynamic, something that presses inexpressibly sinful and delicious buttons in your dirty mind.

"I do need you."

You pout. Your words with Paul repeating them was enough to rev your proverbial engine. You shift just the littlest bit, yet the friction of the floor underneath you is enough to tease out a whimper. Not totally on purpose, but not totally by accident. John chuckles again.

“Present tense?” He pretends to turn a page, but he’s not reading a damn thing now.

"I need you all the time you're not in me.” It’s filthy, but it feels true in these moments when all the thoughts are leaving your head empty.

He smiles one of his private smiles. His eyelids crinkle as he reaches up to scratch his cheek. "Let's not be pornographic, huh?"

"I wanna fuck again..."

"What else is new?"

"You've ruined me." He looks at you then like you’re something to eat. The book is shut and put down. You have your beloved hot priest’s attention. His eyes ask, smoldering, what will you do now you have it?

“You have my boot. Or aren’t you smart enough to get yourself off.” His tone shifts and a shadowy, serious dominance settles in his countenance. Every behavior, every quirk of his expression, curve of his smile, owns and owns you. He may plead and beg to bury his head between your thighs from time to time, on one occasion he may have shown up at your door, his satchel a deceptive front for rope and ribbon, which you were to restrain and blindfold him with. Life’s too short for dynamics that don’t shift and change like the tides. But in this moment, this energy, you are his. And he intends to impress that upon you.

You gape at him just a moment, heady lust clouding your already addled brain. Then slowly, carefully, you adjust your position, grab the upper part of Paul’s calf, and hoist your lower body up onto his shoe, your pelvic bone bumping his shin. Any hesitations or embarrassment that linger in you drown in the deeper, sweeter excitement of feeling some real friction as you roll your hips. Oh. God.

This might be the senseless, reckless need talking, but fuck. Just the sensation of the toe of his shoe right between your thighs, exactly where you need it, makes you feel a little bit crazy. You look up at him in awe, and thank God he’s not picked up his book again but instead is sitting comfortably, his gaze dropped low to watch you, his groin thrusting the tiniest bit forward at nothing, too much nothing. He groans, and you chase your pleasure like a thing possessed.

Words slip out of your mouth without a shred of logic behind them, and Paul tells you to repeat yourself. He bites his bottom lip as he watches you. “Hello? Still a brain in there?"

“I said you make me so sensitive,” you mumble, finding a new groove in the contour of his shoe, where it meets his ankle, and leaning on his knee, shaking, groping for his thighs, all involuntarily. Your dripping, dripping on his shoe, and the thought of how uncivilized that is makes Paul bite his fist.

"Uh huh, so it's all my fault, then."

"Yes..."

"Yes, 'what'?"

"Yes it's all your fault, Father."

“It’s my fault you’re going to cum on my shoe?”

You whine again. Your soul’s leaving your body, want spreads through every inch of your body, intense and blinding, high, so high.

“C’n I cum, please, can I cum?” You pant, feeling his hands wrap around yours, warm and loving.

“Look at me, pet.” He orders. You obey. His irises envelop you. You steady yours on them, trying to get a grip, breath filling your belly and leaving your parted lips in rapid gasps. “No.”

Your brows shoot up in surprise. Disappointment isn’t the word for it, desire lets itself out as a sound. You slow down, somewhere in a high place you hear him say:

“Stop grinding, slutty thing. Your Father told you ‘no.’”

You sink against him, laying your head on one of his thighs. He kisses the top of your head, and murmurs, “Good girl. Good girl, good.”

Fireworks are setting off under your skin, your thighs are trembling, every bit of you is sticky. “That wasn’t easy, I bet.” He says, voice condescending and sweet, but every bit as needy as you are. You make another noise in response.

“I’m not done with you, you know,” he takes your chin into one of his hands, lifts your head. He kisses you again, with a fierceness that just sharpens your feeling. “I’m not even close to done with you.” He rests his in your neck, kisses you once, twice, up your jaw, on your cheeks, the ear he can reach. He bites your earlobe and almost hisses, “Me. You. Bed. Now.”

[Pt. 2 Out Now!! Linked Here :)]

I now have a ko-fi! Consider checking it out to support my addiction to cold brew coffee, or commission something special all your own 🖊️

#midnight mass #john pruitt #father paul hill #thirsting hours #monsignor pruitt #monsignor john pruitt #father paul #fic tag #midnight mass fic #father paul x reader #hamfam smut #my blabber #tfw you can't even write your smut drabble well bc you're feral for the man you're writing about #ko fi commissions

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puwog-ilyg-iwa · 23 days ago

Text

"𝓒𝓪𝓷 𝓘?"

synopsis

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You and Gojo just got married! It's your honeymoon now, but, what are honeymoons for?

info

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Word Count: 858 Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Reader Content MDNI! : fem!wife! Reader, husband! Satoru Gojo, use of the word "heat" referring to crotch, fingering, Satoru eating you out Warning(?): Sexual Content!, Not proofread a/n: Ok so this is short and sweet, but I like how it turned out, if you want to go to that part, skip to paragraph 5, including the short ones! ----------------------------------------------------

You and Satoru just got to your hotel abroad, it's your honeymoon and you're so excited to be able to spend time alone with Satoru, especially since you've actually barely ever been alone with him. You both got to the hotel, and you went straight to shower, you had been on multiple flights in a row, and you were sweaty, so you went to take a long, cold shower. Satoru was impatient and went towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist while in front of you. He looked down and kissed you, he smiled warmly and then he said something, "Let me shower with you", he said it in a playful tone, but you knew he was serious, you didn't see why you would reject his offer, so you accepted. You both got in the shower, warm water filling the room with steam, he hugged you from behind, then grabbed the soap and started washing your back, this whole moment was so relaxing, and you probably would've fallen asleep if not for what he did next. After he finished washing your back, you leaned back on his chest, and he started lathering soap on your neck, your waist, and your stomach. But then you felt his hands on your chest. Your breath hitched when you felt his hand on your chest so suddenly, but you leaned more into him.

You had never done something quite like this, the most you two had done was kiss, and that was still a bit flustering for you. But at this moment, you felt safe and at peace, so you really didn't mind it.

He stayed at your chest for probably more time than he needed to, but you didn't say anything, you actually enjoyed it quite a bit. He went down to your thighs, and you felt your face get red. You turned around to face him, and you buried your face in his chest, too embarrassed to look at him. He lifted your chin up so you would look at him, "You look so cute like this, but you don't have to be embarrassed, we are married now after all" he said, sweetly, and then he kissed you while still lathering soap on the back of you thighs, as well as slightly on your ass. You hugged him tightly and moved your face to the side to breathe, then he crouched and started washing your calves, you felt so embarrassed, and he was treating you like a goddess. He respected you, he was a gentleman, he was romantic and nice, he was strong, and he was careful with you.

How much better could this man get!?

He stood up and pinned you against the shower wall, then he got back down and kneeled in front of you, his hands on the back of your thighs, he was pressed up against your legs, and he was looking up at you. He kissed your thighs and moved his hands towards your inner thighs, he looked up at you and asked "Can I?", he looked sweet, and you knew he wouldn't hurt you or anything, and you also knew if you said no he wouldn't get mad or do anything, but, you also wanted to. "Yes... Please...". And with that, he started getting closer and closer to your heat, until he lightly kissed it, making you tremble a bit. You felt him smile against your skin, and he continued kissing, and then you felt his tongue teasing your clit. He licked circles around it, your knees were trembling, and you were breathing heavily. He kept teasing you, and then he started licking your entrance lightly, slightly pushing the tip of his tongue in, he moved his finger inside you and started moving it in and out of you while starting to suck on your clit at the same time. You started to lose balance, but then you felt his free hand push your ass up to keep you standing, you held onto the wall behind you, and he started to move his finger in and out of you even faster, making you moan, you took his hair in your hand, trying to find a bit of leverage, and you kept moaning. Your noises just made him go even faster, he was kissing your clit, rubbing it with his thumb and sucking on it in turns, you felt overstimulated, and you felt yourself get closer and closer to an orgasm. Until with one final movement on your clit, you felt yourself let go to your arousal, and you started to tremble even more. Satoru stood again and helped you stay up. He kissed your forehead lovingly, "Let's clean you up princess", and then he started washing you again, making sure you felt comfortable. When he finished, he put clothes on you and carried you to bed, he carefully put you down, covered you with a blanket, and then went to the other side of the bed and laid down next to you.

You snuggled up to him, his breath on your head. And before you knew it, you had fallen asleep on him.

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OK!! So, that wasn't very intense, but I felt like writing smth like that so there it is. If you liked it PLEASE FOLLOW ME! Im sorry for that, but like it would make me soooo happy, it would help me out A TON! Also, my last fic got SO many likes! I'm glad more ppl liked it / found it, and since I'm busy most times, I might only upload on weekends, idk. Anyway, thanks so much again, I hope y'all enjoyed, and bye!!

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rocoutlaststuff · 2 months ago

Note

So I’ve got a request a Franco Barbi x reader where they were his lover from before he was captured but now they’ve ended up in the trials as a reagent (assuming they can even remember each other) maybe some angst/hurt/comfort as a imagine or one shot whatever would be better for you!! ♥️♥️♥️

One request coming up! I got carried away with this, and you've officially turned me into a bit of a Franco fan which I did not expect. That's what listening to dialogue for an hour straight will do to a person, I guess. Regardless, I hope this is what you were looking for!

Presently in the Past (Franco x Reader) [Requested]

🐑 ♡ I lost the footage to make a Franco gif, anyone wanna play to get it back ♡ 🐑

You can't remember anything about your past, but your past remembers you.

Explicit, Graphic Violence, F/M, M/M, Other/M, Tag(s): Trauma, Human Experiments, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Drug Use, Needles, Memory Loss, Angst, Hurt/Some Comfort, Blood, Violence, Death, Explicit Language, Obsessive Behaviour, Possessive Behaviour, Pet Names, Cuddling, Flashbacks, Oneshot, Ambiguous Gender Reader, POV Second Person

Find it on ao3 ♡ WC: 6,432

Disclaimer: Easterman's introduction to the trial, and the first paragraph of the story were written by Red Barrels. I recommend reading Barbi's comic first if you haven't already!

Thank you to an anonymous user for requesting this! This is very much my first time writing Franco - hope he's written well ♡

CIA ASSET AT A BAR SOUTH OF MIAMI CONFIRMED FRANCO BARBI'S INVOLVEMENT IN AGENCY ACTIVITY IN CUBA. FRANCO DEEPLY ENTWINED WITH EXPAT/COUNTER-REVOLUTONARY CUBAN COMMUNITY IN FLORIDA.

STATEMENT FROM LAST KNOWN FROM CUBAN-COUNTER REVOLUTIONARY ASSOCIATE CONFLICTS WITH CIA ASSET. FRANCO IS HINTED AT LEADING DOUBLE LIFE BETWEEN ROMANTIC INTEREST AND CAREER.

ATTEMPTING TO CONFIRM.

“Maybe he didn't expect someone to like him,” Clyde muttered.

His attention hadn't left the shot of Wolf’s Milk that had been made for him. The mere thought of sickly sweet taste forced his insides to turn. Like the wild goose hunt he was on, he wasn’t about the forget it any time soon. And just when he thought he had some semblance of understanding, it had come out that Franco was attempting to hide his involvement with a potential lover.

He had done a good job too, despite him running his mouth in supposed privacy.

Finding said lover was useful if they could, yet Clyde was close enough to Franco that he preferred the time and resources went towards his target.

“You can say that again. Looking like that I'd give up, but that man… He's got tenacity. If you want to call it that, anyway.” The agent put down the freshly cleaned glass with a sigh, and he waved off a patron.

“I can chase up that lead for our mystery friend if you need, but the shop’s closing soon, so it's best that you're leaving. Good luck finding your guy. Nasty piece of work that one.”

Atropine. Benzedrine. Chloropromazine. LSD. Nitric acid. Glass. Knives. Needles. Drills.

So many things had dowsed, punctured, and been absorbed by your skin.

If you could take stock of how much abuse your body had suffered, you would have died many times over. Yet the cocktail of drugs that flowed through your veins mixed with the very same abuse to create a near perfect blank slate.

You knew who you were. You were one in the same with the person in the mirror. You shared your history with that reflection and no one else.

Yet sometimes when you looked at yourself, you felt like someone else. It was only ever a brief flicker of emotion - a feeling that you replicated in the decor of your space - but you held onto it when you felt it.

Hell, you encouraged it when you could.

Waiting to go into a trial was not one of those times.

Your focus remained on the reagent who sat in the lobby with you. Whereas you sat on one of open tables, he sat on the floor by the stairwell. His hands flit about his body which rocked back and forth from the repetitive tapping of his feet on the ground. The cries of other unfortunate souls beyond your rooms sent him further beneath the stairwell to the point that he was nothing but a shadowy figure.

You suspected he was new.

It was a horrible fate for someone new to be stuck with you too. While the others took their sweet time waking up, you had checked every room. There were four of you in total still within your lobby. The other twelve had left to go to their own trials. So you were left to decide whether you asked the newcomer if he wanted to follow you into the depths of Hell.

Doing trials alone was not the answer. It was rarely the answer in the facility, and the people you saw alone were alone for a reason. They scared you more than some of the freaks they released into the trials.

Your trio was one man short.

Yet you were experienced, and experience meant more pain.

“Hey,” you called out.

A muffled yelp.

“Hey, it's okay,” you soothed as you rose from your table. Each movement was slow, and you held up your hands. Before you even reached the stairs, you crouched to make yourself smaller to him, skirting your hand along the floor to steady yourself.

“Who are you?” the stranger barked at you. His voice was fractured. It never settled on a pitch, nor could one emotion truly determine the tone.

Even in the darkness, enough light reached him to caress the edges of the tears that fell down his face.

You told him your name then asked for his while you sat beside the stairwell. With your hands crossed over your knees, you hugged them tight and waited for him to respond. He eyed you from his hiding spot perfectly still as opposed to how he had been a few short seconds ago.

“I don’t remember-” he choked. “I don’t remember my name.”

There was not much you could do except watch him repeat that statement over and over again in floods of tears. When he started to hyperventilate, you guided him with his breathing to the beat of your fellow reagents coming down the stairs. When they saw the scene, they agreed to take him with you.

Sure, it took a lot of convincing to have him step into the shuttle with you, but he did.

And you gave him a nickname: Franco.

He seemed happy with it, and you were grateful to get the name out of your head. The others knew that was what you called the soft toy you kept on your bed, but you didn’t care. It was one of those silly things you fixated on - one that was better than some of the things other reagents found comfort in.

Like cattle, you were herded into the chairs without any other thoughts about what you should have been doing. It was a routine. One that you explained to Franco. You warned him about the clamps on the chair. Then you warned him about the TV and the gas.

How could you tell someone to brace for the torment you were about to endure though?

"You are the surgeon's knife, and where you meet flesh, blood and pain must follow. We are the surgeon's medicine, who regulate pain and death. Poison the supply of those who would ease pain, and we will let you out."

There were no words shared between the group, only the terrified whimpers of Franco beside you. He cried out at the images that manifested in the fog. The suffering was unique to the reagent, and you stared forwards in disgust with bile in your throat. It was impossible to drown out the sheer panic beside you.

Instead, it became part of your nightmare.

A woman staggered towards you. Her body was outlined in the needles that clothed her skin. They touched every part of her, bouncing to the irregular rhythm of her steps. She tripped, tumbled, and fell into your lap - your eyes shut in an instant to block out the sensation you knew wasn’t there. You told yourself that the weight that hit you wasn’t real.

It wasn’t real.

She wasn’t really there.

Franco’s cries were a white noise that tore through your skull like the nails that dug at your tattered slacks. It was too much. Unable to help your morbid curiosity, you allowed your eyelids to flutter open.

The pulse that pounded within your chest threatened to cease. Tension gripped at your body, and a man held your legs with a similar zeal. Chipped nails belonging to the pasty skin sunk into you. Bloodshot eyes met yours, yet they didn’t seem to hold any hatred. They watched you with a warmth you hadn’t seen since you entered the facility and a smile to match.

You felt like you were looking in the mirror again. Familiarity swelled within your chest, and frustration compelled you to tears the second your wrists crashed against the metal restraints.

He was gone in a blink.

The shuttle stuttered and ground against the rails, coming to stop. You mustered up a brief smile for one of your fellow reagents at the concerned look she shot you. She still asked you if you were okay though while the other checked in with Franco.

“I'm fine.”

You were. If you didn't know why you were so upset by your vision then there was no reason why you couldn’t be fine. If anything you were good. Maybe even great.

Despite the way your guts churned, and a dull ache beat against your head, you were exhilarated.

You recognised that man. You didn't know who he was, but you recognised him, and he was a part of whoever you were before.

He was your answer.

The first thing you noticed was the water. Amid the boxes and televisions, you were lost to the sound of water lapping against something. It seemed you weren’t the only one who noticed it too.

“What is that?” your friend asked. There was no telling if he was talking to himself or not as he passed by you. Franco lingered by your side while your group headed to a nearby set of railings.

“I knew it!” your friend exclaimed. “It’s water. They got water in here.” He proceeded to laugh at the sight before him when he turned to see a pier extending beyond you.

“Fuck - this is…” you watched as he looked around the walls plastered in the image of a distant city, and you noted the way his expression strained under the weight of his thoughts. “It’s too real.”

Nothing else was said. He continued onwards past the viscera not a few steps ahead of him. You allowed yourself the chance to peak over the railings, and the water seemed hypnotising in the way it calmed to near stillness. Something must have fallen in seconds prior to your arrival for it to have made a sound.

You decided you weren’t going to stick around to find out what that something was.

Franco twitched when your body collided with his. He’d frozen. Fight or flight’s third sibling had no place in the trials, however, and you felt your heart sink at the sight of his vacant stare. You weren’t sure if he had clocked out for good already when he probably hadn’t seen a dead body up close yet.

A once over of his attire led you to almost regret bringing him along as you leant down to remove your shoes. The action caused Franco to return from the depths of his mind, and he watched you with intense focus.

“Put these on,” you told him.

With two shoes placed before him, he did so with ample tenderness. Maybe he'd suffered from splinters already. It was a thought that repulsed you given you now had no protection against that fate.

“Thanks.”

You nodded at him and took his hand to guide him along.

“Ignore what you see. Focus on what we're doing,” you said.

Enforcing this yourself, you closed yourself off to the world around you. It didn't matter that the wood bit at your soles, nor did it matter that blood that wasn't your own caressed every pinprick sized wound you endured down there. There was no face you made when you felt something compress under your weight and burst with a squelch.

You continued - plain and simple.

There was little in the way of danger along the pier. Just a couple of stragglers that muttered to themselves. Nobody disturbed them. When you drew near the gate, things changed, and your steel willed determination waned at the sound of nearby pleading.

“Salvatore Cargo,” you parroted from a sign in a bid to soothe yourself subconsciously.

The pleading only grew louder as the gate was lifted. One by one, you slipped underneath to find the source of the cries. Two men hung above you like the countless decaying fish strung out to dry long ago. Except they were very much alive and terrified.

Their fear was your own as you knew the sound likely drew attention, and sure enough a shoulder connected with you.

So it began.

Your friend collided with you to prevent an ex-pop from gutting you on long talons. You were forced back into a crate, and you acted on impulse. Around you, your friends scrambled to fend off the attacker. Franco froze once more.

Taking his hand, you snatched a bottle from a shelf and launched it at the ex-pop to distract them. It gave your friends enough time to run, something that was feral and frenzied when lives were on the line.

Your heart pumped. Unable to keep up with your pace, Franco staggered behind you. Directions and quick observations sounded out from your friends like gunfire.

Without them, you would have missed the safe zone.

You threw Franco into a slot and pushed your way into another. As the click resounded, you nearly fell out the other side. Franco knelt on all fours beside you, and you wrapped your hands around him to pull him up. There wasn't anything going through your head as you dragged him to his feet towards the nearest desk.

All you wanted was for him to be okay. You pulled him down into the cramped space beneath the desk on instinct. He was hyperventilating again. The sounds of movement around you let you know that the others were on their way upstairs.

Meanwhile, you held Franco close to your side.

Each shudder of his body shook your own. ‘Calm’ wasn’t exactly the state you could describe him falling into, but he fell silent soon enough. It was just in time for you to catch the latest disturbances upstairs.

A voice different to your friends sounded over the now frantic cries of the hung men. The first gunshot made Franco smack his head against the table in fright. The second was cause for concern as you realised that you had in fact heard a gun.

The screams were silenced, and the voice was too muffled for you to make out what was being said.

It belonged to a man. That much you knew.

You peered over the table to survey the scene. The safe zone was still in tact. The lockers beside you didn’t seem disturbed, and the partition was still up. A third and fourth gunshot rung out, however.

Whatever was happening wasn’t finished.

The shill scrape of metal on metal filled you with dread - the partition nothing but a memory in the span of a second. You were being told to continue.

“Come on, hey. We’re going to make it through, but we need to move,” you told yourself as you grabbed Franco’s arm and pulled him from his hiding spot. Your friends all but fell down the stairs in their panic to tell you what you already knew: whoever was stuck in the trial with you had a gun.

It was a point of debate as you manourved through the environment towards the next stage of the trial. Even as you hauled pounds of drugs from a cart between one another - the gun outweighed any opinions or thoughts on your given task. How did you combat a gun? Could you take it from the unknown assailant? Were the ammo stashes anywhere?

Nothing useful came of your frantic whispers to one another, and while you took time to search for resources, you decided to help Franco out. It changed the subject at least to something more productive.

“Battery packs go in like this,” you explained, showing him how to work his ESOP. “As for this, if you ever step on a mine and there’s gas - or you’re gassed because it can happen, one puff. That’s all you need. It’ll take it all away.”

You snatched a brick for safekeeping, but no explanation was needed for Franco. He understood its use the second it was in your hand. It seemed he learnt quick too, repeating back what you’d said to him on the way back to your rendezvous by the drug cart.

“I’ve got this,” your friend said. He took out a thin tube you recognised all too well and placed the needle to the edge of his arm. It sunk beneath the surface. You were ready to move again.

Things were going smooth for such an advanced trial.

That’s what you thought as the cart was heaved along at a brisk jog. You eyed the surrounding area from the boat to the fish market, and you agreed with your friend. It was getting very real.

Too real, in fact.

The stench of rotting fish and past reagents left you nauseous.

“Right this way, please.” The mannequin pointed you in the direction of a weird tool, and the group immediately fell into disarray.

“No - geez, another fucking thing we can’t deal with right now,” one of your friends hissed. The other picked up the unfamiliar device. She pressed the switch on the side, yet nothing happened.

“Symbol decoder, it says - look,” Franco managed, “aim it at the uh, at uh-” he trailed off as he waved his hand in the direction of yellow paint nearby. The first attempt didn’t work, but as you crammed around the corner, everything became clear. You had to line up the image.

The device whirred as the roulette of potential combinations locked in far too slow for the sense of urgency you all felt.

Eight, seven, four.

You were left with Franco as the other two rushed over to the vault and input the code. Nothing could have prepared you for what happened next though.

“It’s mine. It’s God damn mine, and I’ll skin, salt, and fuck any ruptured scumbag who tries to take it!”

You weren't in the trial. For a second too long, you were somewhere else. In your head, on a dock, you didn't fucking know. All you knew was that the voice stirred something within you. Somewhere - you'd heard it somewhere before. Where? You couldn't remember. Maybe you hadn't even recognised it, but the strength of the familiarity was enough to shake you.

Somewhere. Someone.

In the blank space of your head that you could feel, you knew he was there. It made you want to claw at your scalp and peel back the flesh. If you shattered your skull then everything would spill out. Or would you end up dying in a disappointing pool of black tar instead?

What if you forgot everything?

“-you alright?” Franco asked, and your attention snapped towards him.

What did you do to deserve to be taken away from everything you knew?

You didn't say anything, nodding instead. A hand wrapped around yours, and he gave you the best smile anyone could muster in your circumstances. Fake and pained.

“Let's go,” he said. You nodded again.

Your friends caught up, and you were given an extra decoder. The space before you led to multiple darkened passageways.

Cattle cars displayed the symbols you needed to find like some sort of messed up children's game, and you were left with Franco. It was decided as a team. You went left. They went right. With a mental note made of the symbol you needed, you beckoned to Franco to follow.

So began your search.

All the while, you searched your mind for memories attached to that voice.

Franco gasped from the pain his night vision goggles caused him when he pulled them over his eyes. Thankfully, it was a pain you had forgotten, but you could sympathise with him. The section beside the train was incredibly narrow with no visibility. He had no choice but to wear them if he wanted to see.

You navigated around a corner with no luck finding a star. Then you navigated around another corner to find nothing useful either. But then a light from another cattle car caught your eye. Yellow paint lit up like fireworks the second you lifted your goggles.

The star was there. Part of it anyway. Both of you moved towards the part of the puzzle you had found, and you glanced around for its missing half. It had to be in front of you if needed to line them up, but where?

The answer was on a barrel.

“Got it-” you breathed, holding up the decoder. It sprang to life, and you jolted when Franco bumped into you.

You were going to ask if he was okay when he told you he had heard something. Against the buzz of the device, you had failed to listen for anything else. How could you when your attention was divided between some stupid star and fragments of your past? But when you focused you could hear it too.

Breathing. It was heavy. Strained. It had to be him. Unless it was another ex-pop there was nobody else it could be.

He wasn’t getting any quieter either, and you looked back at the decoder to see it had stopped on one number. You waved it in front of you, desperate for it to work. You were so close to being able to leave - you could get it before whoever it was making their way towards you reached you.

They could turn and leave. It was a gamble that you were willing to take.

If you stayed you could see him.

“Go hide-” you snapped, and Franco hesitated. “Go.”

“Who is that?” That voice. You froze when Franco finally moved, and he brought you with him onto the car much to your dismay.

“My dad send you? Think I'm fuckin' scared of you?” Franco guided you to a barrel and instructed you to get inside.

You did, albeit you were slow. The voice lulled you into a trance, and you wanted to know who it was. His face was all you needed. Just one peek. That was it. Fingertips rounding the edge of the barrel, you peered over the top to see Franco cross the train towards a barrel on the other side.

He ran right past the opening and fell in unison with a bang.

The sound of the gunshot continued to ring in your ears, and you stared in horror at Franco. He was alive - a strained groan spilled from his lips as he rolled over to grip his leg. The bottoms he wore were red already, but the blood began to seep from between his fingers.

“Found you, fuckin’ rat-” the voice cooed. “Try fuckin’ runnin’ now, cocksucker.”

The stranger came into view. As he stepped into the light you could see everything. It was him.

He was the man in your vision.

Your answer.

And still nothing made sense. Even as you took him in, you couldn't place him in your memory. But you could see the situation was dire.

“Gonna cry? What a fuckin’ coward,” the man said, and you shot up from the barrel. With a blind rig, you weren't much use, but the brick in your pocket was.

“Franco - move!” you cried out. Both men looked at you, and you launched the brick at the stranger.

It was a perfect shot.

“Shit - my fuckin’ head!”

You leapt from the barrel and almost careened over with it as Franco threw himself to his feet. He cried as he did - falling down when he tried to make the jump from the car.

When you landed beside him, you didn't get very far. A hand snatched at your neck, and your body was pulled back against the car floor behind you.

“Must be one of those roaches - the fuck do you think you are usin’ my name like that? You-”

He was Franco.

You let out a whimper at the sensation of your spine being pulled against the car's floor and upwards. As if it couldn't get any worse, a gun pressed to one side of your head, and a face the other. The proximity forced you into stillness at the feel of the real Franco’s breath against your ear.

“Ain't no fuckin’ way,” he huffed beside you, and you looked at the Franco on the floor who was trying to crawl beneath the car.

“One of a God damn kind,” your assailant said.

The aggressiveness he held in his voice shifted into something more joyous. He carried an excitable air around him as he let go of your neck, and he jumped from the train. The mood was shattered when he landed on an injured leg, and the shriek that erupted from beneath the train must have been heard trial wide.

“Shut your whore mouth!”

What were you meant to do?

As two shots fired off into the Franco beneath the train, you were faced with the Franco who had inspired the nickname. And he had killed a man. There was nothing else you could have done but run. You were a credit to your own survival as you did, but you mourned two losses.

One of which tailed after you.

“Where do you think you’re goin’? Are we playin’ games? Kiss and chase?”

You sped towards the drug cart at breakneck speed. It seemed Franco had a hard time keeping up with you as his breathing became more laboured. He shouted after you and began to talk to himself when he lost sight of you.

There wasn’t any time for you to explain as you crashed into your friends.

“Did you get the drugs?” one of them asked, and everything came crashing down around you. They asked about Franco. You felt yourself slipping as the thoughts struggled to form on your tongue.

“Gone, no - he’s gone. Franco got him.”

“What do you mean Franco got Franco?” You didn’t have a response to the question as you fumbled for anything. Each word that unceremoniously left your mouth felt like chewing on dirt. Franco killed Franco. Franco was the name of the ex-pop they had seen.

The silence that fell after you finished spoke volumes.

You could see it in their body language. The way that they didn’t move, yet their eyes danced across you. Muscles tightened like coils ready to spring. They didn’t say anything, but you felt their judgement.

While you tried to convince yourself it was just guilt, you knew why they would take suspicion with you.

You understood why.

“C’mon out, orsacchiotto, I wanna make sure it’s really you,” Franco called out. His tone was playful despite the weasely undertone of something else that dripped through. Whatever it was was primal. “You got more friends you want to introduce me too? I’ve somethin’ for ‘em too.”

A metallic bang erupted from one of the trains as if something hit a wall, and you flinched.

“I know where the code thing is, I got one of the numbers before Franco appeared - I can lead you to-” you were cut off by a hand against your mouth. Your friend had lunged forwards and covered it with his head turned. He let it slide down, and ran a hand over his own face, refusing to step back.

Then he gestured behind you. “Go on, lead the way.”

You did - going back in the way you came. At the same time, it seemed Franco hadn’t given up his search, and his words damned you beyond the judgement you had already suffered.

“D’ya remember those cold, cold nights when I used to keep you warm?” You weren’t sure if you wanted to remember.

“I’d give anythin’ if you’d come cuddle up to me. Baby’s lonely.” Whatever you were to him was more than a friend.

“I know what you want - zuccherino for my zuccherino - too bad it’s locked away. I thought your mommy taught you good manners… All you gotta say is please…” Yet there was a bite of hostility in his voice.

“Don’tcha miss me?”

You did. Deep down inside, despite the way your body screamed at you in all the confusion and pain, you missed him.

You wanted to stop running.

With a shaky hand, you held the decoder up to the star symbol.

Nine, three, zero.

You stared at the void between the floor and the cattle car knowing there was a fresh corpse there. Your friend went to the vault to open it up, and you waited beside the edge of the car.

But it wasn’t silent.

Your name spilled from nearby. Close. It was close, yet you couldn’t see anything. The sound of shuffling and debris being pushed out the way forced you back into the cool steel of the cattle car. From the safety of your light, darkness opened up before you. So you let the goggles slide over your eyes.

There, opposite you, was Franco. You were witness to him as he crawled through an opening in the wall on all fours. He was swift to his feet and quicker to train both barrels of his shotgun on you. A broad smile decorated his sunny expression, and laughter bubbled from his throat at your reaction to him.

“Bang!” he exclaimed. “Caught you.”

There was movement inside of the car.

“And another fuckin’ rat,” he muttered. “Am I not enough? You gotta bring these dumb fuckin’ fucks into my work? My house?”

Your heart was in your throat, and the lack of sound from the train alerted you to the fact that your friend had stopped moving. He was playing it safe. He wasn’t going to leave you was he? He was going to leave you with Franco.

Regardless of if your friendship still existed or not, you were going to try at the very least to let him do that.

You were fine.

“Wait,” you blurted out. “I don’t remember Franco, I don’t remember anything at all.” He stopped dead in his tracks. You glanced at the way his finger toyed with the trigger on his shotgun, and then you met his eyes.

“I don’t remember anything at all,” you repeated as everything began to unwind into sadness. “They put this fucking thing on my head, and they force me to do things I don’t want to do.”

You gripped at your night vision goggles, the bolts embedded in your skull. Franco’s head lolled to the side with narrowed eyes, and you had his full attention.

“Who?” he asked.

“Who what?”

“Who the fuck is making you do anythin’? Is it those scumbags that are runnin’ around?” You shook your head. “Nobody fuckin’ tells you what to do. You’re not some fuckin’ whore…”

Franco’s expression contorted as his fist tightened in on itself. He shook his head and strode over to the car. You watched as he slammd the butt of his shotgun against the train, cursing each time. Each sound sent shockwaves through your poor nervous system, and you felt feint from the amount of adrenaline that coursed through your body.

“Fuck!” Franco repeated. “Why the fuck is nothin’ makin’ sense today? Shit’s so confusin’. Give me strength, somebody.” The gun was pointed at you in a casual gesture far too dangerous for your liking.

“Baby’s got to put on his big boy pants. I’ll be comin’ back for you, oh, don’t you think I’ll forget, but first…”

You couldn’t stop him from leaving. He hopped onto the train, and when he left it, it wasn’t long before you heard the gun go off.

Lupara.

That was what he called it. You remembered.

Unable to control your tears, you let them stream down your face like you fell to the floor. When there was a scream from near the drug cart, you cried out louder in unison. Knees brought up to your chest, you buried yourself into your own makeshift darkness.

Nothing could reassure you as your head pounded from the memories that tried to break through into your conscious mind.

It hurt. All your friends were dead.

And the man who murdered them came back to you with a spring in his step.

Apparently, one summer before Franco had to leave for Cuba, in the light of the rising sun you’d both gone to the docks together. Nobody else was really up at the time, and only the waves disturbed you both. Nothing had been planned, it was more of a spur of the moment thing, but you enjoyed it none the less according to him.

He explained to you in great detail how you’d made plans together to get ice cream and spend the whole day lounging there. Nobody was going to move either of you unless you decided to go yourselves. It was something you wanted to do, and he was happy to oblige since you were willing to give him everything he wanted in return.

You would hold his hand and drag him around to show him all the things you loved, and he would tell you that he loved you.

Love was a word that felt like choking up sawdust when he said it. Love never worked out for him. It wasn’t his thing, but he said it anyway. He recounted how you were so innocent to him.

He never told you how he pictured the shoreline coated in red. Intrusive thoughts flashed the image of you lying before him all mangled and pretty with your face stained in blood. You never needed to know because he couldn’t do it.

No, you were different.

There was nothing but joy on your face as he’d followed you along that beach. It was hard for him to explain, but ever since you had settled into something together, he’d chased after that feeling of being wanted like he chased you along the sand.

You humiliated him in your own way by making him think he truly belonged.

And you’d done it again.

Still in the same spot that you had fallen to beside the car, Franco sat with you. He waved his feet back and forth, swaying his body side to side while he looked at you. You hadn’t come out of your self imposed cocoon yet, but you had a single eye on him too.

Things had been ironed out to some degree.

Obviously he’d asked you what you remembered before he told you a few bits about your past, and while you couldn’t be certain what was true or not, you wanted to believe him. At the point you were at, you prayed that it was true. Something about him soothed the ache in your head.

He was undeniably charismatic, and you weren’t going to deny the fact that you felt drawn to him.

Then the important question of what you were doing in his territory with the others came up again. There was little he could have done to hide the irritation in his voice as he spoke about you being around them. He wanted to know why you were helping them. If you were anybody else he would have killed you, yet you had a chance to explain.

Franco understood to some extent, despite being frustrated.

He told you that he felt great - better than he’d ever been - but things were off. Seeing you made everything that much sweeter, yet that didn’t change the fact that he too was having issues with his memory.

Déjà vu he called it. It felt like the same shit everyday with different faces.

When you’d told him you were kept by faceless men in laboratory coats and given orders, he mentioned he’d seen some people like that behind glass. It was clear the worlds you were living in were very different. To him, the docks were real. To you, it was an experiment.

Things had gone quiet after that while you pieced together the shards of your past until a hand found your arm. Fingers walked up it and poked at your cheekbone. Franco shifted himself into a kneeling position with his body turned to you, and you lifted your head at the way he searched your soul with his gaze. Without even speaking, he was searching for something in you.

“Not gonna leave, are you?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t want to leave, but I’ve never tried to stay in a trial before without doing what I’m told. What if they come to get me?”

“Then they’re fuckin’ dead. Think they got a chance against my Lupara?” Each word was spat with pride like he could see them cold already. “Hey-”

Your pulse quickened as Franco pulled your arm from your leg. He supported it in between his hands, and he brought your knuckles to his mouth.

“You’d never leave me,” he hummed against your skin. “No - no, I knew you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t abandon your baby.”

The contact left you flustered as your mind raced over the implications that you were very much his old partner. You didn’t even know if you’d ever separated. Most likely not, if he was going to treat you the way he was. It was strange to feel his kiss against your hand. Not unwelcome, but it was strange.

As he told you that he wanted to feel your arms around him, you crossed your legs and opened yourself up to him. Surreal was an understatement to have him crawl onto your lap without the need to be prompted, and you were delicate in the way you pulled him towards you.

When his head rested on your shoulder, you decided to stop trying to process everything.

“Back where I belong…” you heard Franco sigh.

The weight of his body kept you grounded in the moment. An overwhelming sense of comfort washed over you at the contact - something you had sorely missed - and you let it happen. There was so much you wanted to ask Franco, but for the time being, you savoured the affection he showed you.

He made everything feel better.

“Well shit,” Clyde sighed as he placed down Easterman’s report. He bet Avellanos was going to have a field day with the information they had been given. It was a small world, but even he hadn’t been able to track down Fraco’s supposed partner in the height of his investigation.

Turns out all they had to do was pick up people from the streets, pluck them from their homes, and they’d get lucky.

THE PREMATURE END OF THE TRAIL WHICH RESULTED IN THE DEATH OF THREE REAGENTS WAS BOTH DUE TO FRANCO’S OWN AGGRESSION AND THE NATURAL FLOW OF THE TRIAL. YET THERE WAS A CATALYST.

WE FOUND HIS OLD FLAME. THE FOURTH REAGENT BEING FRANCO’S ROMANTIC PARTNER CAME AS QUITE A SURPRISE, AND I THOUGHT YOU’D BE INTERESTED IN SEEING OUR FRIEND IN THE FLESH. I HAVE RECONSIDERED THEIR POSITION AS REAGENT MOVING FORWARDS, BUT WOULD LIKE TO INVITE YOU TO DISCUSS THESE OPTIONS FACE TO FACE.

UNTIL THEN, FRANCO AND THE REAGENT HAVE BEEN SEPARATED.

#Ritual_Of_Cirice fanfiction #Ritual_Of_Cirice requests #franco barbi (outlast)#franco barbi (outlast) x reader #outlast trials #tw blood #tw violence #tw death #tw drug use #tw needles #tw injury #tw non consensual body modification #tw flashing lights

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sports-on-sundays · 8 months ago

Text

hold you while you sleep / CL16 / Part 3

Summary: dad!Charles x French!reader - Now it's time to see how much louder Charles's actions speak louder than his words.

Warnings: 'Y/s/n' means 'your son's name,' you are free to imagine the son as whatever age he acts because I leave that unspecified, crying, kissing, implied sexual actions (seriously it's like two extremely vague small paragraphs), nervousness, censored curse, random name chosen for sister

Requested?: No.

Author's Note: @milenag2008 asked me to tag them, so thank you, and I hope you especially enjoy! Same song as inspiration. Link to part 1 / Link to part 2

Even though you've been trying to go on dates with Charles now for over a month, every single time you sit across the table from him, both your hands folded on the table, you can't shake the thought of how much it looks like you're about to sit down and have a very serious business interview.

But Charles always gets too antsy, takes your hand, and starts rubbing it anxiously, until one of you starts talking.

And this time, it's you who decides to speak.

"I feel like we're two high school students dating, by the way we're carrying on like this," you say with a sigh.

His thumb gently kneads the back of your hand. "It just takes a few minutes for us to loosen up. It's okay."

"I feel like we went full circle."

He looks up, meeting your eyes. "Yeah?"

"We started out dating just like this. All nervous and awkward, until we both leaned into it and loosened up. And then... we got married, and it all happened."

"This time around, I'm going to do it right."

You nod, staring at your hands, eyes glazed over. "I think Y/s/n likes it."

"I know he likes it."

You nod again, gently entwining your fingers with his nervous ones. There's some silence, before you mutter, "You've been doing good, Charles."

He looks up. "I want to be perfect for you."

"Nobody is perfect, but you've been acting pretty damn close to it. But it's just the beginning."

He sighs, nodding. He doesn't like the negative connotation you seem to end every exchange like this with, and you both know it, but you don't intend to stop until he's really proven himself.

You don't know what that means, but...

Yeah.

You figure you'll know when you know.

"Want to come sit next to me?" Charles asks.

"That's awkward," you immediately say.

He frowns.

You stand up and walk around to sit next to him. His arm immediately pulls you into him, and he whispers, "Just want cuddles."

You smile a little as he strokes your hair.

He's so soft with you. He never pushes anything.

You sigh, and you don't know if it's a content one or not.

After another month, Charles has been hanging around a lot more at your house, and Y/s/n is loving it.

Today, as you sit at the table, playing Sorry! with Y/s/n as Charles straightens up a bit (only because he offered to, seeing how hard you were trying to balance giving your son attention and getting the cleaning done), Y/s/n suddenly says with a giggle as Charles dusts a shelf in that room, "I'm so happy Daddy is here, Mama."

You smile softly, ruffling his hair a bit. "Yeah. Daddy makes good company, huh?"

He grins, seeming to love those words coming from your lips. "Yeah! Come on, Daddy! Can Daddy play with us?"

Charles smiles and says, "I'm cleaning for your mama right now, buddy."

He frowns, pouting. "Daddy..."

He smiles and says gently, "I'll tell you a secret, Y/s/n."

You watch with an eyebrow cocked up as, of course, the young boy leans in closer to listen to his dad, who says softly, "Usually, Mama cleans, but sometimes, she gets tired. Sometimes, Mama needs to be taken care of, too."

You smile a little, perplexed, as Charles says this.

Your little son's eyes widen. "Really?"

"Yeah, really," Charles smiles, standing up straighter again to gently set his hand on your shoulder. "Your mama loves you, and it's important for you two to play together. So that's why I'm cleaning up for her."

"Daddy?" Y/s/n begins. "Do you ever have to be taken care of?"

Charles blinks at this question, and begins, "Oh, well, I usually can just take care of mys-"

Suddenly you interrupt, though, "No, Y/s/n. I think Daddy's a little confused." You grab his arm and pull him down to your seated level, saying softer, more to Charles himself than actually to your son, "Because even Daddy needs to be taken care of, sometimes, too."

You look at your blushing partner with a little smile, and gently give him a kiss on the cheek.

Often, date nights are when you lock up, and memories that make you uncomfortable to do anything come flooding back. But just spending time, doing the most mundane things- that's when your affection just seeps out.

And Charles seems to love it.

Later that night, after you and Charles put Y/s/n to bed together, you softly singing and Charles reading a story, you sit on the couch together. You were originally about to watch a show together, but that idea was soon lost when tactile Charles pulled you into his arms, letting you lean your head in his lap, and began stroking your hair.

After a while, though, you murmur, "It's probably so late. You need to be getting back to your house."

You look up at him to see him frown. "Can't I just stay here?" he asks, pulling you closer, like a teddy bear.

"For the night?"

He nods.

You swallow. That would be a step.

But all of this has been going to fast. Both of you were trying to take it slow and easy, but perhaps since years ago, you had a relationship like this, it's easy to head through it fast.

For instance, right now, you nod. "Okay. You can stay for the night."

He nods, and you sit up a bit.

He just pulls you onto his lap, earning a little mindless giggle from yourself. "You've always been so clingy and snuggly."

"You don't mind that, do you?"

You shake your head. "Out of all the things you could mess up with, you holding me close is the least of my worries."

He sighs. There's your negativity again.

"What you said earlier- about taking care of me, too. I liked that," he says, changing the conversation topic.

"Yeah, I'm sure you did, Daddy," you chuckle softly.

His nose scrunches up, but he blushes. "Don't say that..."

"Why do you blush, then?"

He groans, laughing a bit, leaning back his head.

And you're surprised to hear your lips utter, "You're good. You're a good Daddy."

"You think?" he says, his eyebrows shooting up.

"Well, you sure take care of Y/s/n well. You two are so sweet. He just adores you."

"Funny enough, I think the same thing about you and him when I watch you together."

You chuckle, "Do you?"

"Yeah," he grins. "And you know it's the best when it's all three of us."

You nod slowly, leaning your head into his chest. "Yeah. I think you're right about that."

You wake up to the shrill screaming of your son: "Mama! Daddy!" And suddenly, a little boy jumps on you.

"Huh-?" you blink groggily to see your son, sitting on your stomach, grinning.

He looks overjoyed.

"Hey- hey, love, what's up?"

He grins. "You and Daddy are cuddling! Does that mean Daddy doesn't miss you anymore?!"

"Hmmm...?" Charles puts in, his eyes fluttering open at the over-energetic boy's screaming in excitement.

But just those words from him seem to wrench your heart out, and in that moment, it hits you.

Charles can't mess this up, because it's not only about me, now. It would also break this little boy's heart.

You swallow. Sure enough, you fell asleep practically on top Charles, who has his arms wrapped around your body.

"Daddy? Are you happy now?"

He smiles sleepily, and you have to admit, it's adorable. "Yeah, I'm happy. You want to know why?"

"Why?" he asks, bouncing on your stomach a bit, which makes you go 'oof.'

"Hey, hey," Charles chuckles. "Don't hurt Mama!"

He stops, but asks again, "Why?"

"Because I've got your lovely mama sleeping here in my arms," he says softly near your ear, before kissing your cheek.

You constantly wonder if he's trying to charm you, or if he just is that charming.

"Yeah, Mama!" the energetic boy wholehearted agrees innocently. "You are lovely."

You chuckle a little, picking up the little boy and slipping out of Charles's lap, "Thank you. You're very handsome. Now, let's go get you dressed and ready for school."

Charles, whenever he's not racing, seems to make it to your house.

He's gone for a while, though, and after it being about four months, since you accepted to date him again, your head is spinning.

So after Y/s/n is in bed, and he reaches you from behind and wraps his arms around your waist, instead of leaning into it, you murmur, "Can you... not, right now?"

He immediately takes his hands away. "What's wrong?"

You shrug, going to plop down on the couch. "I'm just kind of... nervous."

His eyebrows crease together. "Why?"

You swallow. "Just thinking about us."

He frowns at this. "What about us?"

"Sometimes, I just get nervous. Uncomfortable with being held... Memories flood back... and I just don't feel very good."

He looks nervous himself now. "Baby," he says softly. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."

"It's... okay. I honestly think I do believe you're better now."

This seems to reassure him a bit, but he murmurs, "I wish you never had to hurt again."

You sigh. "Everyone wishes that, Charles. No point spending time on something that is impossible."

He nods slowly. "But I just want us to be as comfortable as possible, together. As a family."

"I know," you sigh.

Suddenly you sigh, and flop your head into his lap. "I just want to feel safe! Secure! I want to trust... I don't want to remember what you did..."

He nods slowly, whispering, "I wish I could erase all of that."

"Me, too," you sniff a bit.

"Lovely, don't cry," he breathes, automatically wiping at your cheek as a tear falls down it.

You swallow, but tears keep coming. You're not even sure why.

Maybe there's just a lot left to work though.

Strangely enough, you and your son go to your first race together.

Years ago, you used to go to Charles's races, and you know Charles has set up to bring Y/s/n a few times, having other people take care of him.

But you two go together, to watch Charles.

It doesn't seem like it would be, but because it's such a huge part of his life, it's important to Charles. Really important. And important to your relationship, too.

Well, at five months of dating, you finally take it to the next level of intimacy with him. Let yourself trust him enough. And once his tongue is intertwined with yours, it's hard not to melt into him and let him have control- let him go as far as he wants.

And God, you forgot how good that feels.

Of course, he doesn't do anything, or take any step, without making sure it's okay with you first.

Charles, as you realize after, as he tenderly holds you and lavishes you with affection, can have his way with you, if he so desires.

You're not sure if this fact makes you excited or terrified.

Perhaps both.

And at six months of this, you have your first argument, merely days after Charles presented you with a lovely dinner at an expensive restaurant for your half-year anniversary.

You didn't even know that was a thing, let alone that Charles was going to celebrate it.

But he seems to celebrate just by the fact that all of this is actually happening.

Your head spins with you think about all this actually happening.

The argument starts when Charles flat out comes out saying, as you drive to one of Y/s/n school events, "On Saturday, we're going out on the boat."

"Who?" you ask, looking up at him.

"You, me, Arthur, Lorenzo, Y/s/n."

"No, we're not," you say, your eyebrows knitting together.

He frowns. "Why not?"

"You can go do that, but you can't just make plans so suddenly like that and expect I'll be available."

"What have you got going on, then?" he frowns deeper.

"I promised one of Y/s/n's friends' moms that I would watch her kid," you grumble.

Charles makes an annoyed little sound, saying, "Why can't you take him out on the boat?"

"Don't be ridiculous! There's no way I'm taking someone else's kid to Monaco to go on a boat ride with my boyfriend and his brothers!"

"Couldn't you ask?"

"No!" you glare. "That's so impolite! There's no way I'm asking that."

"Please?" he groans. "Can you just say something came up?"

"Charles, it's your fault for scheduling something so suddenly. I'm sorry; I can't go. Maybe you can just take Y/s/n."

"But I told them you would be there!"

"Told who?"

"My brothers! They haven't seen you in so long- they're so glad to hear we're back together. Come onnn."

Your jaw clenches in annoyance as Charles pulls into the parking lot. "Why would you say I'm going to be there before you've even told me about it?"

"I don't know!" he groans. "I wasn't thinking!"

"Clearly," you snort ruefully as he parks. "You know, I think it's obnoxious of you. You can't think you can just make plans for our whole family whenever you want. That's just not fair. You're not in charge here; you need to check with me, first."

"Sorry! I didn't know!" he complains.

You scoff a little, unbuckling your seat belt, "You sound like Y/s/n when he's in trouble. Grow up a little. You should know."

It makes it easier, still having everything in your mind of what this same man did to you years ago, to get mad at him, for little things.

And in that sixth month, things like this start happening more and more.

You lay in bed, alone, since Charles wasn't able to come over, staring up at the ceiling.

You're nervous. What if this wasn't the right thing, after all? What if you're just going to break up again in the end, and this whole thing will be a waste that just leaves things even more in shambles than they already were to begin with?

Your head pounds, and you start to sweat a bit as you think about this, running your hand through your hair as your breathing quickens.

So when you hear a knock on the door, already in your slightly panicked state, it feels terrifying to get out of bed and pad towards the door, trying to be silent, as to not wake your son up. You stand up on your tip toes to peek through the peephole, and sigh in relief when you see it's just Charles.

You grab the doorknob with your clammy hand and twist it open, whispering, "Charles, why are you here?"

His hands gently meet your waist as he walks in and shuts the door behind himself. "I missed you. I knew I wouldn't get here until late, but I wanted to see you."

You nod slowly, taking this in, "Oh- Okay."

He looks concerned, though. "I thought you would still be awake. I'm sorry. It looks like I woke you up."

But you shake your head 'no.' "I was just laying awake in bed."

"Mind if I lay with you?"

You shake your head again, and you head to the bedroom. Once you're both safe under the covers, laying side by side, Charles says, "You seem troubled. Is something wrong?"

You sigh, thinking for a few seconds, before saying, "Just thinking about us."

He looks slightly nervous, but nods. "I have been, too."

Your eyes meet, both of your heads turned to face each other. "Oh, yeah?"

He nods. "We've been arguing more. About silly things, but I've seen a common theme in all our arguments."

You swallow. "What's that?"

He finds your hand under the blankets. "It usually all starts with me, not being thoughtful enough. I'm sorry. And ever since I've realized this, I've been trying to think of your good and Y/s/n's good more often, instead of mine, and what I want to do. It's all a process, but I just wanted to let you know where I'm at... because I think we've both learned from experience that communication is key. And I know the right thing isn't to let this end. Okay?"

You nod, squeezing his hand, a certain relief filling your whole being. "Yeah. That sounds good. I'll try to give you the benefit of the doubt more often, and remember you're trying your best, and nobody is perfect. Even," you give him a tired but playful little smirk, "if sometimes, you sure do seem f*cking perfect."

He chuckles and comments, "Coming from the most drop dead gorgeous woman I've ever laid my eyes upon."

You giggle a little, cuddling closer to him. He wraps his arms around you, and you murmur, "Will you just stay awake for a bit? Just talk to me. I want to hear your voice."

He smiles softly, plants a kiss on your forehead and begins whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

The last thing you remember him murmuring before you drift off is: "I'm so glad we can be here, right now. Together. You feel like my dream, coming true. But you've had a long day, and you've worked hard. So you can go to sleep now, baby, and let me hold you while you sleep."

And you do just that.

You lean back, lounging next to Charles, looking up at the beautifully painted sky. As the sun sinks, it looks like the horizon has been painted with all different bright strokes of a brush. It casts a golden light on everything, and reflects on the bright blue expanse of water, lighting up your world.

Charles has been talking of you moving to Monte Carlo with him. Moving back to Monaco.

And this day sure makes the idea tempting. Driving around with Charles in his luxury car, with the wind in your hair, to meet Y/s/n, Pascale, Lorenzo, Arthur, and your older sister, Rebecca, at the boat. Then swimming a bit in the water when the sun was still high. And once it started sinking lower, to sit out on the water, back in the boat eating your dinner with your loved ones surrounding you.

You had started with simply, raising your glass to the sky, "Cheers to the beautiful evening!"

Pascale had put in, "Cheers to our lovely family!"

"Cheers to to the yummy food!" Y/s/n had squealed, stumbling over his words a bit as he copied you two and stuck up his cup of apple juice.

"Cheers to Y/s/n being my favorite nephew!" Arthur had laughed playfully, ruffling the boy's hair.

"Your only nephew," you had teased with a grin.

"Cheers to the young at heart!" your sister, Rebecca, put in with a grin, looking out at the lovely sea.

"And cheers to a good life, hm?" Lorenzo had added with a glimmer in his eyes.

Just as everyone was about to clink glasses and drink to it, Charles put in, looking at you straight in your eyes and wrapping his arm around you, "And cheers to forever."

Cheers to the young at heart, a good life,

And forever.

No one sees it, but for some reason, with all the loving people around you, all the laughter and joking and joy, that brings a tear to your eye.

Because this is what I want. This is want I want.

Forever.

So now you shut your eyes against Charles, feeling the warm sun on your body. You listen to Charles's heartbeat. You listen to Arthur playing with and chasing around Y/s/n. You listen to Pascale in the kitchen, humming as she gets the sweet desert ready. You listen to your sister and Lorenzo, standing at the railing, talking softly as they look out at this beautiful world.

And it is a beautiful world, isn't it?

Your eyes flutter as your heart feels whole.

Isn't that just part of this romance?

Nine months of this, now, and you don't want it to ever stop. You don't want to ever let go of it.

And you feel Charles's warm breath on your ear as he gently whispers, "Forever, Y/n, right?"

You grin, nuzzling into him, wrapping your arms around him. "Right. Forever."

Author's Note: I was thinking of writing an epilogue to this originally, but after how this ended, I don't know, because I might want to just leave it hanging like that. But what do you think? Because if you guys want an epilogue, I'll write one.

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