#sorry i'm indulging myself one last time | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ellouchi · 1 month ago

Text

One-shot: taking a bath with Jimmy (gn/just hints of suggestiveness)

Disclaimer: none? You know how Jimmy is.

Side notes: super indulgent if you couldn't tell. I wrote this in one day, sorry if this sucks ass. Don't judge me on the order of things! Sorry if it breaks the illusion or something.

"If you needed an excuse to grope me, you could've just asked" Jimmy teased sarcastically, pulling his smelly jersey over his head and dropping it carelessly onto the growing heap of clothes laying on the cold bathroom tiles.

"Uh-huh, you know exactly what I mean." You punched his arm playfully, knowing too well how Jimmy would respond to your proposition in the first place. "We will just take a bath together and that's the end of it."

"And that's it? Really? I find it hard to believe that you don't have any ulterior motives. Besides, I can wash myself just fine without another pair of hands getting in my way, what's the point of us washing together if we won't be fucking?" Jimmy tried again, this time locking his eyes with the buckle of his belt. He could tell you could tell he felt sceptical about this whole idea. From where he looked at it, it didn't make sense, just like countless other things you suggested doing ever since you two became "a couple". However, most of times he enjoyed doing said activities with you, albeit never getting rid of his wariness and cheeky attitude often accompanied by lewd comments.

Once Jimmy was naked, he folded his arms and looked at you expectantly. It was rather an endearing sight, and as much as you would have loved to memorize every detail and curve of your boyfriend's physique, you opted for flinging the last articles of clothes from your own body.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Get in!"

It's not like Jimmy has never taken a bath before, it was just the one you had prepared he had a problem with. He scowled back at the hot steam rising in puffy clouds, the kind of temperatures he didn't get to experience before on his skin. The water glimmered with a thin orange sheen from the bath bomb you bought at the store, it gave out a nice smell of grapefruit at least. You observed Jimmy eyeing the tub with mistrust, most likely asking himself if this was even appropriate for humans to wash in. You wondered if Jim would ask you if this would leave him more dirty than before he got in or would this give him third degree burns.

"Looks like Satan's cauldron straight up from hell. Are you sure it won't boil me alive?" So it was the second option.

"I take those bathes all the time and look at me: I'm both clean and unharmed. So quickly get in, unless you want me to manhandle you like a cat."

With a dragged out 'fine' Jimmy dipped his foot into the water, waiting for the burn which never came, and then finally sat in the tub with a wince. The water was way hotter to what he was used to, that much was clear: he could feel the warmth instantly envelope his body like he was wrapped in the blanket set on fire. You followed suit, settling behind him and pulling his body from behind to rest against yours.

"Shouldn't it be the other way around?" Jimmy asked, scenes from different movies flashing somewhere in the back of his mind.

"Next time for sure, but now just lay like this and try to relax" you reassured, not offering any further explanations.

And so Jimmy went silent, just resting there in your embrace, watching the flicker of candles you previously scattered around the bathroom "to add to the atmosphere". Being acutely aware of your exposed body just below him, soft and inviting, really put his lower part of the body to a test. It would be so easy for Jimmy to flip around and pin your wrists above your head, to glide his free hand from your wet flustered face down to your bare abdomen. And yet, the man has closed his eyes instead, listening in to the soft melody you put on the background, trusting you this one time. He had already decided that if this bathing time didn't prove to be worthwhile, he would take matters into his own hands instead. Later.

Jimmy almost jolted from his nap when he felt your hands suddenly snake from his chest to his shoulders. Your fingers begun to slowly knead his tense muscles, smoothing out knots formed from the tension. It wasn't easy, but the water managed to relax his body quite a bit for you to work your magic. Meanwhile Jimmy tried his best to suppress the tremor of pleasure running through him each time you found a new spot to massage. Fuck he never knew how badly he needed that. He could moan alone just from this, but he didn't want you to think something weird of him or think he was this easy to please. Still, without any words you could tell Jimmy felt fantastic: the way his body slacken against yours, hear how he silently sighed, and sense his big hand lightly gripping your knee. You swore you heard him swear under his breath when you dipped your thumbs between his shoulders blades.

"Jimmy, the water is getting cold" you hinted. The man understood it was time for washing, so he lazily rose into a sitting position, folding his knees to the chest.

"Mmm I'm awake I'm awake..." Jimmy grumbled when you poured as much water as you could over his head.

"I know silly, I will wash your hair now" you explained, reaching behind to grab a brand new shampoo bottle you bought for Jimmy. That men's "three in one" shampoo will haunt you for days to come, you always wondered who were those men who bought this stuff but here was Jimmy, living under your roof. He even had the nerve to complain about you wasting products when you chucked the bottle to trash.

You carefully rubbed the gel into Jimmy's scalp, humming to the changing tune of the music, minding tangled locks which you gently combed through to even out. As you massaged his head further, the delicious fruity scent followed into Jimmy's nostrils, the smell he initially attributed to lady's shampoo now seeming more unisex than he initially thought. When you lightly scratched his scalp, the man almost let out a purr, leaning into your touch, following your motions. Jimmy washed his hair all the time, why with you it felt so different?

"Like this... this feels good yeah Jimmy?" You cooed into Jimmy's ear. He couldn't see your face but he could hear your smile in your voice. Obviously, Jimmy enjoyed every second of it, but you relished in too, huh...? He couldn't understand why.

Your boyfriend responded with an affirmative hum as you rinsed his hair, tilting his jaw up so the soapy water couldn't get into his eyes.

Another creaky sound of the bottle being opened disturbed an otherwise silent room, of the shower gel Jimmy assumed. He felt a sponge press onto his neck, moving in circles. The man took it as a sign to lower his head and sit tighter, exposing more of his back for you to wash.

Jimmy had a brief moment of clearance appear out of nowhere. Stretching his back like that has never felt so easy before, his skin and muscles would tug at his bones, despite the fact that he practiced weightlifting for so many years. The tension sitting in his body, akin to a spring ready to burst, suddenly just not being there. He couldn't deny that your touch...no, not only that, your care and your presence put his body and mind to the state of ease he couldn't remember feeling ever from anyone else in his life. Hell, when was the last time Jimmy exposed his back like that to anyone? When was the last time someone's hands delicately touched his body with nothing but care?

When was the last time he was taken care of in such an intimate, non sexual way...?

You stoped moving the sponge in your hand when you felt Jimmy's frame lightly shaking. Did you find a ticklish spot? You were about to tease your boyfriend, oblivious to the revelations the man came up with, until you ears picked upon a chipped sob. Your mood suddenly darkened.

"Jim? Hey, what's wrong? Hey...."

The man didn't respond instantly, his shoulders buckling inwards before he spoke "...'s nothing, sorry." He replied as flatly as he could muster, responding to his own reflection on the water.

"Did I do something wro--" you couldn't help asking before your question got cut off.

"Stop. No, don't say that. You didn't do... anything wrong... It's me..."

The last word felt like a punch to the gut. You desperately wanted Jimmy to turn around, for you to wipe his tears away and tell the sweetest reassurance, but you knew it was better to let him be. Jimmy wouldn't want you to see him weeping like this.

"Do you want me to hug you?"

"Yeah..." He stopped briefly "... please".

Without a beat, you carefully laid your warm body on Jimmy's cooling back, putting your cheek on the backside of his shoulder. Your arms embraced his waist protectively, occasionally moving to caress his sides. The water was starting to go cold, the candles almost burned to the end.

The music continued to quietly hum in the corner.

#mouthwashing #mouthwashing x reader #jimmy mouthwashing #jimmy mouthwashing x reader #x reader

186 notes · View notes

kingkat12 · 1 month ago

Text

feeling (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, fingering, voyeurism, semi-public sexual activities, smoking, teasing, praises, Roman shouldn't be allowed on school grounds

summary: you've finally mastered the art of feeling nothing at all. emotions don't serve you, they're painful, and everything about them downright suck. however, what happens when you're suddenly faced with the fact that feeling can feel... good?

word count: 3,200

a/n: hey luvs!! I've always hated being someone that feels everything deeply and painfully, even the smallest things, so I wrote the start last night just to get it out of my head, but... you know me, it spiralled, SORRY!!! tihi oh well, enjoy!<33

Everything in life had to be a fight. Always.

Living could be so painful sometimes. Feeling was exhausting. Therefore, it was easier to shut down all my emotions instead of dealing with the overwhelming pain cramming itself down the veins of my forearms, ripping through the vessels of blood at the tips of my fingers with every bad thing that happened in my life.

If I could walk around with a sign saying 'I'm not trying to be mean, I just don't care enough', I would. People always assumed I was a piece of shit due to my inclination never to smile. However, the sign would make me more of a freak at school than I already was, and I had an inkling that I shouldn't dig myself a deeper hole than I already had. High school was hard as it was, why complicate it further?

My lack of social indulgence left me rather lonely. Not that I cared. It was easier this way-- I didn't have to pretend to be bearable to be around. I didn't have to smile, I didn't have to laugh, and I didn't have to fake anything in the world.

However, I wasn't allowed to live peacefully on my island of isolation. Every so often, a little boat would float by the shore and ask to park by the dock for a short break, to rest from its travels and seek momentary company, despite the fact that I hadn't sought this out whatsoever. And to make matters worse, the boat would do so every day, with its voice calling louder with every passing of the sun and moon-- eventually, I had to relent.

So here we sat, on my island of isolation, also known as the empty bleachers. Roman pulled two cigarettes out of his box and placed them between his plush lips, lighting both at the same time. It had become a ritual of sorts, where he'd approach whenever he saw me at school and sit with me in silence for a little cigarette break. When we first started running into each other like this, he would try to small-talk, but this died down when he pieced together that silence was the best for us both.

We needed the time away from everyone, Roman probably more than I. He handed me the cigarette, and we exchanged a short nod at the other with the exchange.

Someone wise once said that you learn something new every day. Because after all this time watching his extroverted social life from afar, wondering how he had the energy for all the people around him all the time, I realized there was only one other person in the world that understood the wish to surrender of a full-body shutdown as well as I did-- and that was Roman Godfrey.

And that was why he sat here with me, smoking in silence.

Still, after all this time, I never knew why he sought me out. Why he had approached at all the first time, and why he had chosen me. Was it maybe that he saw solace in my carefree rejection of everything and everyone? I wondered whether he wished to be like me.

And I wondered whether he knew that I wished to be like him.

I loved to watch the way Roman inhaled the first drag of his cigarette-- it was always with a small moan followed by his eyes closing, his legs spreading out on his seat, and a nod to himself. Like he had been waiting for a new hit for years. Because whenever I watched him and his ritualistic ways, I felt specks of something. The only something that didn't hurt, and didn't feel like my arms were about to rip themselves open and gush blood.

When he didn't look, I allowed myself to smile. I could give in to it. And today, after months of sitting in silence and barely exchanging more than a few sentences about ourselves, I wanted to tell him what was on my mind. "Roman?"

He slowly opened his eyes, surprised that I had spoken. "Shit," he breathed, exhaling a ring of smoke. "You broke your vow of silence for me? I'm flattered."

I would've laughed. His tone was dead serious, yet I could see him fighting a smile. Nonetheless, I went on, but in a different direction; "Do you think we're friends?" I asked, inhaling another drag of smoke.

Roman stilled, watching me. He was surely trying to calculate the way this conversation was going, or what I was trying to get at. Eventually, he spoke; "No,"

"No?"

"No," Roman shrugged-- "You sort of remind me of this guy I once knew, Tyler. He was at every party I was at, and he always had a stash of weed with him, so we ended up smoking it on the porch at, like, every occasion. I never knew anything about him, though, so I don't think we were friends."

"And... you don't think Tyler thought you were friends?"

It looked like Roman hadn't thought about that. "I don't think he ever cared," he mumbled. "And I didn't think you did either."

I nodded to myself as I exhaled the smoke, unsure whether to keep his gaze or look away. I was scared I'd start feeling again, with the way this convo was going. "Alright then," I said, rolling the cigarette between my fingers.

Perplexed, Roman's brows drew together. "Would you want to be friends?"

"No,"

"... Okay?" He let out a laugh which sounded an awful lot like a huff, and he shook his head as threw the cigarette down to the floor and stomped it. "Luckily for you, you've made it to the rapid round of today's quiz." Roman turned to me, nudging my shoulder. "And I'm allowing myself to be nosy, for once. So, tell me why."

"Why what?"

"Why you don't want to be friends,"

It spilled past my lips easier than I thought it would; "Because you make me feel,"

A pause. It was too long.

"Feel?" Roman looked more puzzled than before. "Feel what?"

"Just... feel. You make me feel stuff,"

"What stuff?"

"Just stuff!" I wasn't sure why it annoyed me to explain it to him. In my mind, he should've gotten it. Understood it. "It's not a particular feeling, it's just feeling in general."

Roman cleared his throat, and with his next breath, he took the cigarette between my fingers into his hand. "Ever heard of sociopaths?” he muttered, taking a drag. With the way his shoulders tensed, I couldn't make out whether he was nervous or excited.

"I'm not a sociopath,"

"Then what the fuck do you mean?" Roman leaned in closer, yet I didn't move. Up close, his eyes were much greener, much more vibrant-- I didn't want to think about it. It made my stomach flutter.

"You stole my cigarette..." What else was I supposed to say?

Roman stifled a laugh. "I didn't steal it. Ever heard of sharing? It stems from an emotion called caring,"

"Fuck you,"

Being so close to him was intoxicating. Stupid. Dangerous. My heart hadn't beat this fast in months-- why had I opened my mouth at all? My thoughts raced as Roman reached forward, gently placing his thumb on my bottom lip as he watched my eyes widen. A shaky breath escaped me, fanning the skin of his fingers. With a soft push that didn't meet much resistance, Roman pressed down on my lip, parting my mouth as he took a drag of my cigarette, maintaining just about the most intense eye contact I had ever had in my life.

There was nothing I could do to move away. Not that I wanted to, anyway. So when Roman's upper lip brushed up against mine as he leaned in close, exhaling the smoke into my mouth, I was sure my heart would jump out of my chest, up my throat, and leap right at him.

Even after I inhaled the substance, Roman didn't move away. My mind was buzzing, wondering what to do, whether to say something, whether to ask what was going on-- all I knew, was that I had enjoyed the first physical contact I'd had with another human in a while.

"I've always wondered what it must be like to be a sociopath," Roman whispered against my lips, his thumb leaving my skin. "Do tell."

The more flustered I became, the more my cheeks burned. "I'm not a sociopath,"

"What are you, then?"

"Exhausted," I breathed. "Do you know how tiring it is to feel?"

Roman let out a huff, a laugh, as he let the cigarette burn out between his fingers. "It can be exhausting if you're feeling all the wrong things, sure. But if the feelings are good..." His voice lowered as his nose nudged mine with a teasing touch, and I could feel him smile against me as he heard the small hitch of my breath. "If they're good, you'll suddenly find yourself wanting to feel everything all at once."

Everything indicated that he would kiss me. I couldn't believe it. My heart raced in my chest as air refused to leave me, and I could feel the drumming of my blood coursing through my veins in anticipation. This was a rush unlike any other. So I braced for it, stilled in my seat, made my mind accustomed to the thought--

Until I couldn't feel his breath falling against my cheek anymore. Until all I felt was the cold breeze of the air brushing a strand of hair away from my face. I opened my eyes only to find Roman was getting up from his seat next to me. He briefly turned to catch a glimpse of the stunned expression on my face before he gave in to a snicker. "There you go, there was my crash course," he joked. "Sorry for making you feel things again, I guess. It wasn't my intention. This was nice though." Roman motioned to the both of us-- I didn't like his tone. This felt like a goodbye. This felt like I had broken some holy contract I didn't know I had signed. "I'll leave you alone from now on, don't worry. I'll find out whether Tyler is available for cig breaks at school instead--"

I had no idea what came over me as my hand shot forward and clasped his wrist. "Don't do that,"

"Do what?" Roman was unreadable-- a part of me wondered whether he was dragging this reaction out of me on purpose. Had his skills with people brewed down to developing mastery of manipulation?

"Did I piss you off somehow?" I tried. "Did I say something wrong?"

Roman's brows raised in confusion. "You haven't done anything,"

"Then why are you leaving?"

He blinked. Once. Twice. "You said that you didn't want to feel anything. And since I make you feel stuff, I'm doing you a favor, no?"

Roman was a smart guy-- I had known it deep down. Still, I rose from my seat, only to be reminded of how tall he was. How handsome he was. "And what if I... want to feel?"

Silence laid itself like a thick duvet over us as we stood and stared at each other, none of us knowing when to speak or what to say.

Eventually, Roman let out a short hum as his eyes rounded out. There was an emptiness to his gaze. "I don't have any love to give," he breathed. "If that's what you're looking for, you've come to the wrong place."

That was almost nice to hear. Love would've been too grand of a start. I finally spoke; "Not that. I just... want to feel good again. I don't remember how that feels anymore,"

Roman's ears perked up. "Oh?" The corners of his mouth curved into a look I couldn't decipher. It was somewhere between intrigue and calculated success;

"Well... I could make you feel real good, that's for sure."

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

So... I succumbed. Not everything had to be a fight, at the end of the day.

I succumbed in a secluded part of the school library, a section Roman said nobody ever came to. He had led me down a path of stairs, past the archeology section and the biographies of famous mathematicians, and into the far corner of the philosophy area.

It was there that he had finally kissed me, finally pulled me in by my waist, and led my back against the wall next to a whole row of books about Platon-- and it was there that he put his large hand beneath my skirt and pressed the heel of his palm into my clit through my underwear, making me gasp into his mouth.

I squirmed, my grip in his hair tightening as I pulled him closer. Roman tasted like cigarettes and smelled like expensive perfume you'd test out at an airport when you're bored at Duty Free. However, my thoughts dulled as my hips keened into his hand, against the sweet pressure, and my heart thumped harder in my chest with every brush of his lips against mine.

"So..." Roman whispered, his cocky smirk gracing his beautiful face. "Feeling anything yet?"

Bastard. He knew damn well. "Yeah-- Yes,"

"Good," With a rather patronizing laugh, Roman pressed kisses to the corners of my mouth. "I've waited to see you like this for so long, do you know that? Since the first time I sat next to you and you barely paid me any mind, I've wanted to see you squirm." My breath hitched as he pressed his finger into the wetness that had formed in my underwear, tapping it to test the slick. His lips brushed over my ear; "Should've done this earlier, hm? Relieved you a little, made you feel good?"

This was the most horrifying feeling of gratification ever. I never thought I'd be the type for this sort of behaviour, but I suppose life pushes you toward the direction you're destined to take, right?

"Who would've thought," Roman purred, a small chuckle building in his chest. "And here I thought you were one of those people that don't even get horny. Bet you're the type to lay in bed and get off when you're bored."

My cheeks burned. Burned. "N-No--"

"No? Aw, you're still fighting," And just as I thought it couldn't get any worse, Roman pulled my panties aside and eased a finger into me. I couldn't meet his eyes anymore as my hands gave into a tremble, and I clutched the fabric of his shirt as I hid my face in his chest.

"Tell me, then," Roman whispered, reaching his free hand into the hair at the nape of my neck to pull me away from him. He dragged my head back, forcing me to look up at him as he pressed himself further up against me, cornering me as he pushed my back harder into the wall. I was panting against his lips at this point, feeling him curl his finger into my sweet spot like he had done this a thousand times before-- he probably had, anyway. I hated the jealousy that coursed through my veins, one of the emotions I hadn't allowed myself to feel in ages. He spoke with a smug grin; "Tell me what you're feeling, you little psycho."

That would've earned him a snicker, had I not been in such a compromising position. "Good," I breathed, finding his green eyes. "Feels-- Feels n-nice."

"Nice? Only nice?" Roman tsked, shaking his head. "That's not enough." And with that, he eased another finger into me, which only had me gripping his shirt harder. Being filled by Roman's fingers like this, knowing we could be walked in on at any moment, made my whole body burn with adrenaline. "Ro--"

"How many times have you thought about this when we've been smoking, huh? Don't tell me you've been wishing I'd do this shit this whole time?" Roman pressed a kiss to my ear as his fingers stroked into me, pressing into my sweet spot with a gentle rubbing-motion.

I could only shake my head. That was the truth. I hadn't ever allowed myself to think about him like that to spare my feelings. I know I'd have been squirming in my seat, staring at the way his hair always fell over his eyes, and the way his broad shoulders sunk in pleasure with every inhale of nicotine, if I had allowed myself to think those thoughts.

"No?" he cooed, feigning disappointment with a pout. The way he was almost mocking me made my stomach flutter-- or was that his fingers? "Well, I have. Many times. I've always wondered if it'd make you talk or shut down more. Or mostly, I wondered how you'd look if I did--" Roman placed his thumb on my clit, and the added stimulation only made my eyes water with pleasure as my hips bucked into his hand once more. "This."

"Fuck--" I hissed, leaning forward to kiss his neck. If Roman wasn't going to make it easy for me, I had to shut myself up somehow. Now more than ever, his perfume was prevalent.

He let out a small sigh of pleasure as the thrusts of his fingers grew harder, not paying any mind to the way my knees gave into a slight tremble. "God, wouldn't it be bad if we were caught right now?" he said with a laugh. "You wouldn't be known as the quiet one anymore, that's for sure." Roman pulled me away from his neck with the hand he had in my hair and scanned the look on my face. My eyes glossed over as I drowned out my moans with heavy breaths; "Fuck-- Fuck you!"

"Is that how you talk to your friends?" Roman cooed, leaning down to press a short kiss to my lips, the soft pillows of his mouth pushing me into submission. "Cause wasn't it friends you wanted us to be, hm?"

I couldn't answer. Not when his tone made me clench around the stretch of his fingers, not when he looked this good, not when he talked to me this way. "N-No,"

"No?"

"No!"

"What, then? Best friends?"

If I could punch him, I would. Yet I only managed to gather the strength to suppress another moan, feeling my high creep up on me faster than ever before. It was almost embarrassing how fast I was about to cum on Roman's fingers in the fucking school library. He was making a wreck of me. "Wait, I-- no, fuck, I might--"

"Ulta-mega-best-friends?" Roman only giggled as his unrelenting pace continued. "Fuck-friends would probably serve us both the most, though, hm?"

"Okay, s-sure--"

"Don't you think?"

I let go of his shirt as my body keened against his fingers, sinking down a little against the wall as I squeezed my eyes shut. The pooling feeling of arousal in my stomach made me tense up, and I prayed I wouldn't collapse to my knees-- I hadn't had a standing orgasm before. How did that even work? "Yeah," I cried. "That-- That sounds good."

Roman kissed me again as a reward, smiling from ear to ear as my muffled moans filled the empty section of the library. I clamped down on his fingers, feeling my clit pulse against his thumb as I gave in to the strongest, most intense feeling I'd had in months.

"That's it, feel it all," he purred, rubbing me through my orgasm.

"Good girl."

#roman godfrey #hemlock grove #smut #x reader #roman godfrey x reader #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgård #fanfiction #oneshot #fanfic #drabble #oh I love Roman being a bit of a bully #like yes be mean to me #this turned a little philosophical #god reader can't catch a break

171 notes · View notes

ahgasegotarmy116 · 4 months ago

Text

Deja Vu | Jeon Jungkook | One Shot

Summary: Life hadn't gone down the path you had hoped for but the one who made that choice for you isn't someone you want to see ever again. Pairing: f!reader x Jungkook, childhood friends Word Count: 3k~ a/n: I wrote this last night in one go so I figured I might as well post it...let me know if you guys would like to see this from Jungkook's pov 👀 p.s. I got lazy and hardly edited this but I hope you guys like it lol Oh and this is loosely based off of the very beginning of Deja Vu by Tomorrow x Together

My fingers ghost along the spines of the books I pass by, looking for something that might catch my eye because yes sometimes I do judge a book by it's cover.

Finding one that seems interesting enough I turn it over, reading the summary of the fifth romance novel I've picked up since I've been here but when the bell on the door jingles giving notice of a newcomer I turn to see who it is...and I really I wish I hadn't.

My palms instantly clam up leaving me nervously wiping them off on my sweater so I don't damage the book but I can't let go of it since it's my only form of shelter, hiding in plain sight from the person I hoped to never see again.

Curiosity get's the best of me though, watching as he sits down and pulls out his laptop at one of the tables in this cafe bookstore hybrid, one of my favorites places in the city that I'll probably never come to again in fear of running into him.

He pulls a camera out of his bag and takes the memory card out before putting it in his computer to upload it's contents.

I guess he did end up becoming a photographer like he always wanted.

It's strange seeing someone who was so important to you for so many years become someone you barely even recognize. But that's the thing, I do recognize him and I hate the fact that no matter how hard I try I can't help think of him often. How is he doing? What does his life look like now? Has he finally found someone to love like I have?

Seeing him makes me doubt everything though, but that's just what he does. He makes it impossible for me not to be drawn to him, wanting to talk to him, to laugh with him, to be with him.

I thought I had moved past that. Thought that this silly little childhood crush had been nothing but that, a stupid crush that I finally grew out of.

But seeing him here tells me it's everything but that.

I look from him to the book I'm hiding behind, trying to distract myself and with the amount of effort I'm putting in it actually works...for a little while.

My eyes are begging me to let them wander again, indulge in the desire to observe him even if nothing comes from it and once I decide that one more look can't hurt instead of meeting his brows furrowed in concentration I meet his eyes.

His soft chocolate brown eyes that I've willed myself not to drown in time and time again are looking back at me, a soft smile reaching his lips when he finally sees me notice him making me sick to my stomach.

Turning as subtly as I can I walk further into the maze of shelves around me, praying his interest in me was only fleeting and that he in fact did not recognize me.

After a few minutes of hiding in the corner that not many notice as it's a rather unpopular genre I let out the breath that I had decided to hold at some point, my need to be invisible necessary to my survival but when I decide the coast is clear and walk out of my little nook I bump into the exact person I wish I had never met all those years ago.

He holds onto my forearm as he sees me stumble back, unsure of if this minor collision would result in a fall and with his help, that I hate to admit I needed in the moment, prevents that mortifying occurrence from happening.

"I'm sorry that was my fault" he says and lets go of my arm, thankfully noticing how uncomfortable I am with his touch from my body language. "No it was mine, I should've been more careful coming out from behind that corner" I admit, a common courtesy after interactions like this, neither one wanting to admit it was the other persons fault.

"Well regardless I'm sorry" he says and I nod my head, looking down at the floor to avoid giving him a chance to recognize me. "I'm glad I caught you though, a fall against a bookshelf doesn't sound the most desirable" he chuckles, hoping to diffuse the awkward air around us but there's no use in him trying. He made that decision for the both of us a long time ago...

*Seven years ago*

"Please say something" I mumble, the five feet between us feeling like we're lightyears away, the silence a twin to the vacuum that is space.

He's right there but I know I've lost him for good with this stupid decision. "I don't know what to say" he mumbles right back leaving me scoffing in disbelief. "Then make something up. Anything is better than this" I say in reference to the radio silence between us since I decided to confess to him.

I know I shouldn't have done it. I know I'm selfish for telling him after all of these years and not simply fessing up to how I felt about him long ago but I was afraid that something like this might happen, and I was right.

I hate that when it comes to him that I'm always right.

I could let us part ways and go to college leaving things left unsaid but I stupidly hoped that we could make it work. Do long distance so we wouldn't feel the need to go on dates or even worry about getting physical if it got to that point.

In my silly little crush clouded brain I thought that he would at least give us a shot but I know it was useless.

I know he doesn't feel the same way about me but I didn't realize it was gonna be this fucking hard.

"Just say something!" I say, raising my voice at him since I need to do something to keep myself from suffocating. "What do you fucking want me to say?" he throws back, getting just as upset but he has no reason to be acting like this, not when he holds our future in the palm of his hand.

"Say you don't like me, say you're not into me like that because from this reaction alone I know you probably don't feel the same way! Anything but this..." I say, my tone harsh but softening at the end, wanting to be mad at him but he's done nothing wrong.

Nothing except for giving me false hope that we could be something more.

"I don't know how I feel about you" he admits and I scoff. "Well when you figure it out, you know where to find me" I say and pick up my bag that I had discarded on the table I had been sat on, waiting for him to finally show up.

I had decided to do this off campus.

We're seniors and although the rumors and humiliation from his rejection wouldn't go around for long it wasn't worth it to have the off chance of an audience.

No doubt they'll still circulate since the two of us have been conjoined at the hip since childhood but keeping the actual event from prying eyes was the best I could do.

I take one last look at him but his eyes are turned down, not even able to look me and so I walk to my car as fast as I can, holding back the stupid fucking tears that I told myself I would never cry.

I've always been told that boys aren't worth my tears, but he's not just some boy...

*Back to present time*

"Right um, thanks" I say and continue to look at my shoes, noticing the small scuff marks that I had accumulated from the many trips out I had taken them on, anything to distract myself from the man in front of me.

"I uh, I noticed you reading over there," he says, waving towards the general direction he had seen me at, "thought I would come over and introduce myself" he says, not letting me go with that simple apology for the unfortunate opening to us meeting again, though he doesn't know yet that we have absolutely no need for an introduction.

"Do you hunt down and force introductions with strangers often?" I mumble, wanting to be taken as closed off and disinterested as possible. He chuckles and I fucking hate how it makes my heart flutter, the same sound I had heard time and time again, although a little deeper now but no less charming.

"No, not often, but I didn't want to miss my opportunity since you decided to run off as soon as I caught your eye" he says, pointing out my obvious efforts of escape.

"I'm Jungkook" he says after there's been a lull in the conversation, holding out his hand for me to shake and after a pregnant pause I decide to take it, offering at least a common courtesy since I'm not the asshole in this relationship, or lack there of.

"It's nice to meet you" he says and I mumble the same sentiment back, not meaning a single word of it. "Do you talk to people's shoes often?" he teases as I haven't met his eyes since that initial glance, one he found inviting where as I felt was an ignition to my fight or flight, and unfortunately for me, yet fortunately for him, I chose wrong.

"That's not what I'm doing" I say, finally facing him, the difference in height a lot bigger than I remembered, his amused smile making it even more nerve racking, my body begging me to get the hell out of here.

"Then what is it that you were doing?" he asks, a crooked smile on his face but when a couple of beats passes by without me giving him an answer he takes that time to study me and when I see his expression changes to one of recognition I know there's no use in trying to get away unscathed.

"Yn?" he asks, my name no doubt feeling foreign on his lips but the way it sound to me is heartbreaking, a sound that I had hoped I would never hear again.

I decide to just look up at him, facing my fear since the answer to his barely articulated inquiry is quiet obvious to him now.

"What has it been, five year? Six years?" he asks, his eyes lighting up and his tone a relaxed one as if this is a happy reunion, showing that my feelings had really meant nothing to him.

"Seven actually" I say and he sighs in disbelief, "Has it really been that long?" he asks, a stupid question that could’ve been solved by a couple of seconds of mental math but I just hum as a response and try to walk past him, my first efforts of escape.

"Woah woah woah, where are you going?" he asks as if he had a right to keep me here. "Home" I say and try to walk down the path that'll lead me out of this bookstore that feels a lot smaller now.

"Do you have a second? I thought we could catch up? Maybe grab a coffee or something?" he suggests, nodding towards the cafe and I sigh, trying to think of the best way to shoot him down but luckily I don't have to, at least not now.

"I've been looking everywhere for you" David, my fiancé says, placing a just barely there kiss on my cheek as a way to somewhat establish our relationship to this unknown man in front of me.

When there's been another pause with me making no efforts of introduction David decides to take the initiative. "David" he says simply, holding out his hand for Jungkook to shake and he gives his name right back, their eye contact quickly broken as Jungkook's decided to bring his eyes back to me.

"Honey who's this?" David asks in a soft tone, placing a hand on my waist in reassurance, showing me he's not upset after finding me talking to this mystery man from his perspective.

"We used to be friends back in school" Jungkook says when I still decide to hold my tongue, making this interaction even more uncomfortable than it needs to be but I have no obligation to make this go smoothly. His admission to having lost touch cracks open up a scab on my heart that I thought had healed long ago.

"Oh, so you guys grew up together?" David asks and Jungkook nods. "Yeah...we did" he says softly, still looking at me as I've decided to look away from him after a few exchanges between the two of them.

"Honey do you think you could pull the car around? I'm sure he has something to get back to, as do we" I say, hoping he won't mind following my request without a need to ask for clarification. "Sure love, I'll text you when I'm out front" he says, him knowing that I'd no doubt like I second to wrap things up alone while remembering that we had to park pretty far away as it's an uncharacteristically busy day today.

"Thanks" I mouth to him and he places a kiss on my temple before holding his hand out for Jungkook again. "It was nice to meet you" he says and Jungkook nods half heartedly, "Yeah, you too" and he watches his back for a second as David leaves before turning his attention back to me.

"Boyfriend?" he asks unceremoniously, "Fiancé, actually" I say and he looks down and indeed sees the beautiful ring David had gotten me.

"Wow! Um, congratulations" he says, trying his hand at a halfhearted sentiment but failing miserably. "Yeah we've been together for four years so we figured it was time" I say and he nods his head giving me a sad smile.

"Well I'm happy for you" he says softly and I scoff, "No" I say abruptly to the point he flinches. "No?" he says as if he had never uttered the word before.

"You do not get to act like a kicked puppy because you didn't think I would move on" I say and place my pointer finger on his chest and he steps back as I apply pressure.

"What do you mean? I only said I was happy for you" he says as if he hadn't put on the saddest doe eyes he has ever given me. "You know you've gotten even more transparent with age" I say and he goes to open his mouth but I'm not done with him yet.

"You waltzed over here probably thinking I was just some cute girl that you wanted to shoot your shot with but when you found out it was me you wanted to what? Get a coffee? Act like nothing ever happened? Go back to the way we were? Or did you think you actually had a shot with me after everything you put me through?" I say practically shaking from the intensity of the words that I can't stop from coming out.

No warmth, no compassion left in my tone, just pure anger and disgust and I can tell from the way he's no longer carrying himself as confidently as before, he wasn't expecting this kind of a reaction from me.

After another pause as painful as the one all those years ago I scoff again, crossing my arms over my chest, losing patience with this conversation. "You gonna say something or are you still trying to figure out how you feel about me? Or better yet did you even bother to?" I spit out and he shakes his head.

"I was scared and stupid and selfish and couldn't figure out what the hell I wanted" he says, seemingly becoming more articulate over the years, but just barely.

"Is that all you have to say to me?" I ask, his explanation subpar at best. "Y/n I was eighteen and scared of losing you. You were the most important person in my life, and in some ways you still are" he admits but I shake my head and step away from him making him take a step towards me.

"You do not get to go around acting like the victim saying things like that just to mess with my head" I seethe, appalled that he thinks he has the right to say that to me. "Y/n I didn't mean to-"

"You know what?" I say, cutting him off, "I always thought that what you did, or didn't even bother to do showed that you didn't care about my feelings, but I never thought of you as being cruel. Maybe that whole time you were just toying with my feeling just because you could. You never expected me to have the guts to finally tell you how I felt huh?"

"Y/n please that's not what happened" he says, chasing after me when I start to walk away from him. "Then what did happen huh?" I spit out, waiting for whatever sorry excuse to come out of his mouth.

"I never meant to hurt you..." he says, reaching out for my hand but I move out of the way.

I give him one last once over, looking at how heartbroken and pathetic he looks but I have no sympathy for him and from the way the last bit of hope drains from his eyes he finally realizes that there's no saving this.

He tries once more to say something but we're interrupted by the text we both knew I was begging to come in.

"Y/n..." he says and tries to see if I'll give him one last chance but I turn my back and walk towards the door, my hand resting on the handle for longer than necessary, contemplating if this was the right choice but for the sake of my future I know that it was.

"Goodbye Jungkook" I utter under my breath and pull the door open to walk out. When I turn back to close the door behind me I do myself a horrible disservice by looking through the glass and seeing an expression on his face that I'll never forget.

Loss

Taglist: @jkslipppiercing @trina864 @kaitieskidmore97 @goddesofimortality @coolbluedude @coralmusicblaze @whoa-jo @00frenchfries00 @pastelpinkjoon @joonwater Taglist continued in the reblogs 💜

Join my Taglist!

Feel free to fill out the form or just comment on any of my fics to be added :)

203 notes · View notes

playstation-dreamcast · 3 months ago

Text

This came to me in a dream. Anyway:

Now Loading...

Choose Your Character: Albert Wesker

Summary: For the sake of the mission, Albert Wesker is willing to do just about anything within reason to gain the trust of his S.T.A.R.S members. Apparently, building a snowman with his favorite new rookie is within reason.

Tags: Fluff, S.T.A.R.S Wesker, Nicotine use, Crack treated so serious none of my beta readers thought it was crack, Noncanon compliant RPD, Gender Neutral Reader.

Word count: 3k

It all started with that stupid fucking snowman.

A childish game he played to indulge his subordinate and gain their trust late one night after the S.T.A.R.S office had closed. He knew better even then, that it was an absolute waste of time. But, he complied, because it was you who asked.

Okay, maybe it didn't start with The Snowman. Maybe it started with the cigarette you shared. Sitting on the snow covered sidewalk, passing the smoke between the two of you while you talked. It came so easy to him, just talking with you. It was never that easy with anyone else.

He could still smell the smoke when he closed his eyes. He could see the snow caught in your lashes, and the fog of your breath. He could still feel how tight his chest got, and the roller coaster feeling of his stomach dropping when he finally had to admit to himself that he was sweet on you. And that he couldn’t keep lying to himself about it.

And you had no idea. You smiled like it was any other night.

"Hey, can I bum a cigarette off you?" You asked him that at least twice a week since you started working as a member of S.T.A.R.S. It got to the point that he started to plan for it. Sadly, he was late to work this morning and didn't have time to buy another pack.

"Sure," he said, simply handing you the one he had just lit. You took it gratefully and smiled.

"Thanks Captain, you save me once again," you teased as you sat down next to him, taking a drag off the smoke. "You gonna light one?"

"That was my last one," he confessed with a shrug; chin resting in his hand, elbow resting on his knee. He thought about leaving, it wasn’t like he had anything left to do here. But he stayed anyway. He’d regret it later.

"What? Then why'd you give it to me dude?" you scoffed.

He looked at you out of the corners of narrowed eyes. "Don't call me 'dude,'" he, half-heartedly at best, reprimanded as you rolled your eyes, "and because you asked for it. As your captain it's my job to take care of you." He didn't mean for it to come out like that, but he wasn't going to backtrack now and make it weird.

"Ah yes, taking care of me by giving me cancer. Truly, so selfless of you." You giggled as you handed him the smoke.

He took it without thinking, easily taking a puff off it. "If I was worried about that, I'd have to fight a losing war with half the team- myself included." He took another drag to prove his point, "I like to think I pick my battles more wisely than that."

You hummed as you nodded, taking the cigarette back and putting it to your lips. You huddled closer to your captain, watching the snow fall and seeking his warmth in the cold. "It's pretty out." You smiled.

"It's nothing we don't see every winter." He took the smoke back.

You playfully pushed him, "Oh sorry Oscar didn't realize you fell out of your can."

"I have literally no idea what you're talking about."

"I'm calling you a grouch, Wesker." He nodded in acknowledgement of your clarification, and didn't try to argue. Just took a particularly long drag and handed the cigarette back to you.

You took your turn with it and continued. "You gotta be able to still see the beauty in the small things, and the wonder in the world. Or else you just become old and bitter, and nobody wants that." He didn't have the heart to tell you he was already there.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, watching as new snow covered the old. It had become a ritual between the two of you – one Wesker had grown quite fond of. Every night when the two of you closed the S.T.A.R.S office together, you took the time to share a smoke break before going your separate ways for the night.

Wekser looked forward to them more than he cared to admit. At first it was just another thing he did to ensure all members of S.T.A.R.S trusted him. Fifteen minutes at the end of a shift was a small price to pay for the confidence of his team, and as long as they had confidence in him they wouldn’t doubt him.

He wasn’t quite sure when he started looking forward to your quiet conversations, just like he wasn’t really sure when he started buying two packs of cigarettes to accommodate them. Or how he wasn’t sure when he started looking for little excuses throughout the day to touch you, to talk to you, to have your attention. At some point you had wormed your way into his mind and made your home there. He would have resented you for it if he could find it in him to do so.

He almost jumped when you finally broke the silence. "You know, when I was a kid, my dad would always let me stay home for the first snow of the season- didn't matter if school was canceled or not."

Wekser took the cigarette from your hand. "Sounds like irresponsible parenting to me, keeping a child from their education." He finally killed the smoke, flicking it off into the abyss.

"Maybe!" you admitted, "but, those days were important to me. We'd always go out and make a giant snowman – as big as we could – and try to keep him alive for the season." You smiled at your warm childhood memories. "It was fun."

"I've never built a snowman before." Wesker confessed. He wasn't sure why he did, it's not like you were asking. It just fell out of him. You had a way of pulling things out of him without even trying, something he should have been more wary about than he was- all things considered.

You looked at him shocked. "What?! No way! Not even when you were a little kid?"

He looked back at you and shook his head, "The boys home where I grew up had no time for such frivolous things. As long as the power was on, we were in school. And on the rare occasions it was knocked out, well. We had other priorities." It felt so natural, being so open with you. Maybe it was because you were always so open with him. Or maybe you were one of the few people that treated him like a person with vulnerabilities. It used to scare him, on some deeper level. It still did in a lot of ways.

Lately though, he's just grateful to have someone other than Birkin to talk to. "Captain, that's one of the saddest things I've ever heard. That's like, a super villain's backstory."

He finally turned his head to you. "What? Not being able to build a snowman?" He scoffed. You were blowing this out of proportion.

"Being a child and not being allowed to play," you clarified. Oh. He had never thought of it that way. It's not that you were wrong, he wasn’t allowed to play as a child – not really. It's just… he never really took the time to think about his childhood. He didn't like the feeling it gave him.

So he shrugged again, brushing off the memories before they had a chance to linger. "The past is the past. There's no use dwelling on it."

"Fuck that, come on!" You grabbed his hand and pulled him off the steps. He didn't even have time to fully comprehend just what was happening before you pulled him to the patch of grass the RPD called a lawn. "We're building a snowman.”

He huffed out a sorry excuse for a laugh and rolled his eyes. “You can’t be serious Rookie,” He said as he watched you gather the starting snowball.

“As serious as a heart attack, Captain,” you said, handing him the growing ball, “And I’m not a rookie anymore, I’ve been with S.T.A.R.S for six months now!”

He fought a small smile back at your insistence that you were – in fact – a highly trained soldier after a mere six months. “That’s still rookie status, dear.” The pet name came out so easily he hardly registered it, but you clearly did. He could tell by how you froze, your eyes widening ever so slightly. He needed a distraction. He held up the snowball, “And what do you want me to do with this?”

You relaxed as you remembered the task at hand. “Roll it around in the snow, I’m working on the base, so you work on the middle.”

He made no move to hide his annoyance. “This is ridiculous, I want you to know this.”

“Then go home,” you shrugged. “No one’s keeping you here by force, no ones putting a gun to your head. If you don’t wanna help, you're free to go.” You acted so unbothered when you said it, focusing on growing the snowman's base. It hit a nerve in his heart he didn’t even know he had. You made it so blatantly clear that you didn’t need him there. Suddenly, the only thing he could think about was proving to you that you did need him there.

He started wordlessly working on the middle of the snowman, trying to focus on the smile on your face and not on how ridiculous he surely looked. “That should be good,” you said, pointing to the ball he was working on. “Go ahead and put it on the base.”

He took a second to look at the base you’d made, and the progress he made on the middle part, then got right back to adding snow. “No.”

“No, what do you mean no?” you scoffed, trying to sound offended but failing to hide your giggle.

He easily hid his smile. “It’s still too small. It would look awkward on the base, and even more so once we add the head. It needs more snow.”

“Weren’t you the one calling this all a waste of time?” you teased as you started the head.

Without missing a beat he looked at you, “It is. I stand by that. But if you’re going to do something, you might as well do it right.” Finally, he was satisfied with the ball of snow he’d been put in charge of, and carefully placed it on the base.

You giggled softly, “That’s such a dad thing to say.”

“It’s just how things should be done.” He shrugged, “If it’s worth doing, it’s worth putting the effort into doing it right.”

“So you admit this is worth doing?”

“What? I didn’t say that.”

“But ya kinda did,” you pointed out. “If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing right. And you’re trying to build this snowman right, so therefore – it’s worth doing.”

Wesker took the time to think of his next words carefully. He couldn’t just say outright it was worth doing because it made you happy. Because these small moments of connection built a trust between you. One he would inevitably betray one day.

There was that horrible tight feeling in his chest again. The one he only got when he thought about how he would have to hurt you in the future. He pressed forward, “Somethings, as frivolous as they are, can be worth doing for the greater impact they have.” You nodded sagely at his words, as if you understood perfectly. Which, was genuinely shocking because even he wasn’t entirely sure what the fuck he just said.

Finally, you put the head on the snowman. “Well! What do you think?” You smiled, making passionate jazz hands at the snowy creation the two of you had made.

He cocked his head to the side. “Something’s missing.”

You nodded. “Yeah, we’re missing a face.”

“What do you normally use for a face?”

You shrugged, “Traditionally, kids used coal and a carrot for the face. Sticks for the arms, maybe a scarf, you get it. You’ve seen Frosty the Snowman.”

He hadn’t, but that was a battle for a different day. “Seems like a waste of a carrot. And we don’t have any coal.”

You nodded again. “Yeah, sadly. Guess our little guy will just have to remain faceless.”

No, that wasn’t good enough. Not for Wesker. If he was going to make anything, it was going to be perfect. He’d accept nothing less. He quickly looked around, searching for a suitable substitute for coal. He quickly spotted what the RPD once called a garden that was now mostly filled with snow covered rocks and made his way there. You picked up on his thought process and went to go pull sticks off of a nearby tree for the arms.

“Hey, I found a pine cone!” You called to him as you returned.

“Excellent, we’ll use it for the nose.” He replied as you reconvened at the snowman. The two of you argued briefly about the facial expression – you insisting the snowman should be happy and him arguing it should be miserable because who wouldn’t be miserable stuck out in the snow? You countered with a snowman wouldn’t, because he’s literally made of snow and probably can’t feel cold. You won the argument. This time.

You assembled the final touches together, then stepped back to look at your handiwork. He smiled smugly, placing his hand on your lower back to hold you closer. “Not bad for a rookie.” He said, looking at you.

You smiled back at him. “Not at all,” you said as you rested your head on his shoulder. It was the closest the two of you had ever been to each other at that point. And the closest Wesker had been to anyone in a long time. It should have felt wrong, the way it tended to when he made contact with others. Instead, it felt comfortable. Natural. Like you were always meant to be right there on his shoulder.

He looked down at you resting on him. At your snow bitten cheeks and soft, content smile. You weren’t scared, or even nervous. You weren't going out of your way to impress him, or try to demean him for an ego boost. You weren’t looking at him with unrealistic expectations he’d still manage to reach, only to remain unsatisfied with him. You were just there. Content, and smiling in his arms, happy to be with him.

You looked ethereal in the soft moonlight, the streetlights of the city encasing you in a halo. He was suddenly overtaken with the overwhelming desire to kiss you. To take you home and hold you forever. And met with the blood cooling realization that he was more than just attached to you. He was… infatuated with you. He refused to use the L word for this.

He couldn’t do that to himself. He moved away from you, a sudden movement that caught your attention. His heart sank looking at your wide questioning eyes. “Thank you, for the experience Soldier.”

You smirked, noting that he didn’t call you rookie. “Thank you for indulging me Captain.”

He nodded and patted your shoulder. “It’s late. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

“Bright and early,” you confirmed. The two of you lingered for a second longer, the cold silence loud with everything the two of you wanted to say. He slowly slid his hand off your shoulder, and the two of you went your separate ways.

He spiraled for a good two hours when he got home. He couldn’t stop thinking about you. How natural it was to talk to you, how nice you felt in his arms, how breathtaking you looked even covered in snow. He dreamt of you that night, and when he woke up he could still feel the warmth of your lips pressed against his. He had to take a cold shower to get his head together.

He had never felt like this before. His entire life he was too focused on other things for crushes. On being the best student, on graduating early and getting his doctorate, on researching the virus, on surviving. He’d had lovers, sure. But he never felt anything for them, aside from sometimes lust. He never felt tight in his chest, he never dreamed of them, never in a hundred years would have entertained the thought of building a fucking snowman with them.

What the hell did you do to him?

He spent the next eight months obsessing over you. Meticulously observing you like he would any other specimen. He found out how you managed your workflow, the gun you preferred to use at target practice, who you got along with at the RPD and who you only tolerated, how you took your coffee in the morning.

He noticed all the small details. He noticed the way you chewed on your lower lip when concentrating, what kind of jokes made you laugh the loudest, the way your eyes crinkled when you were genuinely smiling. He noticed that you didn’t brush his hand away when he rested it on you, unlike how you did when Brad did the same thing. How you also went out of your way to be around him, and that you were always the first to act when he gave an order.

He knew he shouldn’t do this to himself. He knew that he should have taken a massive step back and kept your relationship strictly professional. No more late night smoke breaks, or easy conversations in the break room. If he really wanted to do himself a favor he should have found a reason to fire you, or at least have you removed from the S.T.A.R.S team.

He never tried to do any of that, because for the first time in his life he was scared he wouldn’t be able to do something. And where did that get him?

Here. Staring at the sinking ship that was Umbrella, and knowing he needed to get off before he was dragged down with it. He needed to send the S.T.A.R.S team to the Spencer Mansion to get the combat data he needed so he could do just that. The issue was, that meant the team was probably going to die. A sacrifice he thought he was willing to make. And he was, before you happened. Now the thought of sending you into that made his jaw clench. As brilliant as he was, he couldn’t think of a way to keep you out of the situation.

Send you home? That would never work, Bravo team was in danger. You would never just sit idly at home while your team was in trouble – an annoyingly admirable trait of yours. Order you to keep watch at the office? Nope, that wouldn’t work either. That would be the first place Umbrella went when they realized he had gone rogue. So where did that leave him?

Sending you into the mansion. But, maybe you didn’t have to die. You were just as capable as any other member of the team- if not more. As long as he could keep you alive until it was time for the mansion to go up in smoke, he knew he could get you out of there- and come out looking like the hero in the process.

He didn’t have time to come up with a definitive plan, this was going to have to do. As unorganized as it was, he was confident it would work. It had to work.

He didn’t know what he’d do if it didn’t.

#albert wesker #albert wesker x reader #albert wesker fluff #wesker x reader #wesker x reader fluff #resident evil #resident evil fluff #I want him in the way that I want to give him the love and tenderness he was robbed of as a child

187 notes · View notes

makeitmingi · 7 months ago

Text

Be Your Solace

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Comfort, Slight Angst

Pairing: San x Reader (y/n)

Characters: UniversityStudent Girlfriend!Reader, UniversityStudent Boyfriend!San

Summary: Since your relationship was still relatively new, you were afraid of letting San meeting your family. You didn't want them to chase him away. But your boyfriend can't stand to see you stressed, anxious and exhausted from your family. So he tries to help you and be your solace.

Warning(s): Reader has anxiety and is mentally anxious, bad mental health. Depictions of toxic family dynamic and family members. There may be triggering topics to certain readers. Please read at your own discretion.

[A/N: Happy belated birthday Choi San!!!!!! This is my 'self-indulgent' fic. Some parts you may find rather detailed because it is a close depiction to my own personal experiences with extended family. And how I am going through it right now. So I wrote this to vent, rant and comfort myself.]

Word count: 7.7K

'At the end of the day, family will always be family. And family will always comes first.'

That's what you've been told your whole life. No matter what happens between family members, you'll always be family, you'll always share blood bonds. And blood is thicker than water... right? The expectation that family will always come first was seared into your brain.

"(y/n)? Did you hear what I said?" Your boyfriend's voice pulled you out of your mind's despair.

"Huh? No, sorry, Sannie. What did you say?" You frowned at yourself, not even realising that you were spacing out. You blinked and let out a soft sigh, moving to meet his eyes.

"What's wrong? You didn't even react when I called you 'jagiya'." San joked but his eyes filled with concern and worry.

The reason you didn't like the pet name 'jagiya' because that was what San and his best friend, Wooyoung, called each other.

Instead he calls you, 'baby', 'love' or his favourite, 'baby love'. To him, that was the most unique and it combined his two other petnames for you. And that made it special to both you and San.

"I'm fine. Just a little distracted." You forced a smile. One of San's hand reached out to cup your cheek, the other wrapped around your waist to pull you closer to him.

"You're not fine. Tell me what's bothering my baby?" He tilted his head with a small pout.

"It's just my family... You know how it is... My cousin's coming back to visit and as usual, the whole family is rushing to accomodate her as if she's the queen. She's not even here yet and I'm already so bothered by it." You rubbed your temples.

"This is the cousin that's the favourite of your oldest aunt, right?" He clarified. San hasn't met your extended family yet so he only knows them by your stories and rants about them.

"Yes. And since my aunt is the head of the family, we kind of have to do her bidding. I'd rather not face her wrath." You said.

"I understand." San nodded.

"And she knows I'm off school now so I'll probably be roped into doing more of whatever she has planned. She even made an excel sheet schedule." You groaned.

"Looks like all my weekends are gone." You said, looking at the schedule. San looked over to read through it.

"That's... a lot of things to do..." San frowned. Even he felt exhausted looking at that.

"I know!" You groaned, your head falling onto his shoulder. And what's worse is that you won't be able to see San as much since so much of your time would be taken up for family. San turned his body on the couch so he could face you and hug you properly. You buried your head into his chest.

"I shouldn't be complaining, right? I should be grateful for all these extravagant meals and outings she drags me to. But why do I feel such an exhaustion and dread?" You gulped.

"Everyone has a social battery, baby love. And it is very exhausting. I remember the last time she came back, you were sick after she left."

"Yeah because she has the flu and still came in close proximity to us." You mumbled bitterly.

"Would it help if I was there?" He asked carefully, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb as you tucked your face into the crook of his neck.

The last thing San wanted to do was to add to your stress or make you feel pressured into inviting him for these.

"Thanks, San. But I like our relationship so I don't want to risk scaring you away yet." You chuckled.

"Baby, you already have me and my love for you is greater than what your family can do to me. If I have to accept your family to be with you, so be it." He laughed and pulled away slightly to kiss the crown of your head.

But from your answer, San knew not to push it or insist that you let him come with you. He didn't want to make things difficult for you. You knew your family and were old enough to judge the situation.

"Wait, it's not that I'm embarrased by you or anything, okay? That side of my family is just judgemental and not welcoming-"

"Woah, woah, woah. Breathe, baby love. It's okay. Hey." He cupped your cheeks in his hands to ground you.

"Sorry..." You mumbled.

"Mmm-mmm, you have nothing to apologise for. Thank you for wanting to protect me." San pressed his forehead against yours. You gave him a small smile.

"I really wish I could have you with me. But there's this whole thing they have about insiders vs outsiders." You sighed.

"Before we continue, let's move to the room. This couch is too small to cuddle." Without saying anything else, San lifted you up and brought you to his room. As he climbed over you, he hovered over you for a few seconds to give you a kiss before landing his body beside yours.

"Here." He put Shiber in your arms for you to hug while he wrapped his arms around you to hug you.

"I'm sorry I'll be more absent these 3 weeks." You sighed, inhaling Shiber's scent. He smelled just like San, which comforted you.

"Don't worry about that now, baby. I'll miss you dearly but that's not for you to worry about. I'm not angry nor do I blame you." He assured pulling you closer to him.

"But I am angry. I need my San time." You whined. San laughed and cupped your cheek to give you a peck.

"You can come over any day, any time you need, hmm? Or if you want me to go over, let me know." He rubbed your back.

"Thank you." You murmured. San wished he could do more, he hated seeing your anxiety peak like this and how stressed out you were. The least he could do was be here for you when you need him.

When San hugged you like this, you felt so safe and protected from the world. Your anxiety was something you were transparent about right from the start. But San never grew annoyed with it, he was always there, patient and understanding.

It's funny because now you wonder how you lived without him all these years because you've definitely grown dependent on him.

"Take a nap, hmm? Rest your mind." He said, gently massaging the back of your neck to help you relieve the tension there. You melted in his touch.

When San woke up from the nap, you were not in bed with him. He heard you talking outside.

"So you've seen the schedule. Just help me book my hair and nail appointments where there's a free slot. No mornings though."

"Sure... I'll call and check. Then update the schedule." You said, nodding to the phone that you propped up using your mug so you wouldn't have to hold it.

"And make a booking at the Chinese restaurant for Sunday brunch too. Since you're usually the one who makes it."

"Okay, hang on for a bit." You blanked the camera and turned off the mic, waving San over. You both still heard your cousin rambling about something on the other end. San shuffled over to you, leaning down to give you a kiss. You giggled and ran your hands through his hair, combing out his bed hair.

"Sorry I left the bed. She called and I didn't want to wake you up with the talking." You sighed.

"It's okay. But you owe me." He smiled with a playful glint in his eyes. You laughed and nodded, giving him a final kiss before he moved away. You turned the camera and mic on again.

"What happened? Why did you have to turn off the camera and mic when we were talking half way? Why are you acting so secretive?"

"What? I'm not secretive." You frowned.

"It's just a boyfriend. You're at your boyfriend's place, aren't you? It's not that big a deal, (y/n). You don't have to act like it's some big secret. I have a boyfriend too."

"I know that. I just... It's not that it's a secret. I just enjoy my privacy." You sighed.

"Privacy? We're family, why do you have to keep it so private? That's making it a big deal."

"Anyway, back to the plans." You diverted the topic. You could only bite your tongue for so long and you didn't want to accidentally say something ugly. There was a nice facade that you had to maintain to keep the peace.

"Also, since I'm back, can you make me that Chinese dish you learnt to make the other time? I've been asking each time I return and you haven't made it for me."

"It's a lot of work and I'm busy..." You chewed on your bottom lip.

"Yeah but you're on holiday, right? What? You want me to pay you? I can pay you to make it."

"Money is not the issue here... It's time consuming and a lot of work. There are other things I need to attend to. Making that dish will take me two days..." You tried to reason with her.

"What's the point in saying you learnt to make it if you're not going to make it?"

"Yeah, my bad." You hummed.

"Anyway, our aunt said that for the two family gatherings, you're in charge of desserts so make enough this time, okay? And try something new, you always make the same thing."

From the kitchen, San listened to the conversation, his frown growing deeper as time went on. This was the first time he heard you speak to your cousins and it's like you're an entirely different person. He hated it and he hated how your cousin used your aunt's position in the family to make you do things.

"Are you bringing your boyfriend for any of the gatherings? I brought my boyfriend the last time I came back."

"I remember. But no, I don't intend to bring him this time." You shook your head, eyes casting to the side to meet San's. He just stared back at you with an unreadable expression.

"Maybe it's best that you don't. I got some heat the last time and I'm the favourite of the family. So, who knows what you'll get."

"Right, thanks for the heads up." You awkwardly chuckled.

"But I'm not saying you should keep him away forever. It's rude of you not to invite him. If you're serious about him and talk about him, you should bring him to meet us."

"I do intend to since he's already met my parents a few times. Just not this instance." You said.

"Keeping him away is not only rude, it's not fair to him either. You'll hurt his feelings and your relationship this way."

"I'm aware. Thank you for the advice." You forced a small smile, swallowing the lump in your throat. The exhale you let out was shaky, you were trying your best to keep it together but it was hard when she talked about how you were 'treating' San.

"Baby, are you free? I need your help!" San shouted. You looked up at meet his eyes.

"Looks like you're needed, you better go. Are you sure you can't pick me up from the airport tomorrow?"

"Seems like he needs me. And yeah, I'm sorry about that. I have a family dinner." You lied, hoping she bought your lie. San had come closer to you.

"Mmm, okay. But you better send me to the airport when I leave. Bye, I'll see you the day after tomorrow then."

After she hung up, you felt your whole body quiver. With shaky hands, you put your phone down.

"Baby love?" San approached you carefully but you stood up. You gulped and took a deep breath. In addition to everything else, now you felt embarrassed that San witnessed that.

"I-I'm going to the restroom." You made a beeline for the bathroom and closed the door. You knew you needed to collect yourself and not constantly depend on San to comfort you, you didn't want him to think that you were using him. Turning the sink on, you splashed your face with cold water.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

"Love? It's me. Open the door, hmm?" San was heard on the other side of the door.

"Just give me a second." You breathed out. From the gap beneath the door, you saw that he still stood there but he didn't rush you. He remained quiet until you were ready.

"God, I'm so embarrassed." You let out a tired sigh when you opened the door. San was leaning on the opposite wall and stood up.

"What's there to be embarrassed about, baby love?" His eyebrows furrowed with worry.

"Nothing. I'm good, Sannie. Don't worry about me, I-I'm used to it. But thanks for saving me." You threw your arms around his neck. His hands went to their usual place on your hips.

"I'll always save you." He kissed your cheek.

"I hate that she talks to you like that. I... I really hate it... She doesn't know anything about us." He mumbled against your shoulder as he hugged you tightly. You let out a hum, fingers toying with the ends of his hair behind his head.

"You're not rude and I'm not hurt that you're not bringing me to meet your extended family, okay? Our relationship is stronger than she thinks." San squeezed your waist.

"I know. What you think and feel is the most important. That's all that matters to me." You replied in a whisper.

"Aigo, my baby love. My pretty baby, my precious girl." San cooed, patting your butt teasingly.

Before meeting San, you hated people in your personal space. But one of the ways that San shows his love is through physical touch and now, you can't live without his hugs, kisses and cuddles.

*BEEP BEEP*

"Please tell me that's not her." San groaned and buried his face into the crook of your neck as you fished your phone out.

"Oh, nope. It's your boyfriend, he's coming with food for dinner and Yunho's tagging along." You informed, reading the text. San pulled away just to show you that he was rolling his eyes at you. In your phone, Wooyoung's contact was 'San's Boyfriend' and you did refer to him as such.

"He's not my boyfriend and I'm not his boyfriend. I'm YOUR boyfriend. You, (y/n) (y/l/n)." San squished your cheeks, pressing his forehead against yours.

"Not that many people have their boyfriends call another guy 'jagiya'. So can you blame me?' You teased.

"You-" San feign anger, chasing you around.

As you ran away, there was someone at your door. San wrapped his arms around your middle, playfully nibbling on the exposed skin between your neck and shoulder.

"Oh, your boyfriend and Yunho are here." You giggled and opened the door to let them in.

"Jagiya! I'm here!" Wooyoung came barreling in, throwing his arms around San, who caught him before they could both fall over. You chuckled with a shake of your head and wrapped an arm around Yunho to greet him.

"Sorry for coming unannounced." Yunho grinned, wrapping his long arms around you. You shook your head, all of San's friends were nice, you liked being around them.

"Some love for you too, baby girl." Wooyoung tugged you away from Yunho's embrace, planting a kiss on your cheek to rile San up.

"YAH!" San let out an outraged yell.

It only took about 3 days after your cousin's return for you to come back to San's place.

"San?" You called out after letting yourself in. He wasn't around, probably in the gym. The first thing you did was shower and wear one of San's shirts. After seeing that you liked to wear his shirts to comfort yourself, he started to set aside some of his shirts in the cupboard labelled 'Baby's Pile'.

"Hi, Shiber." You created a nest of San's blanket and hugged Shiber, just wanted to engulf yourself in his scent. It was the only thing that kept you sane now.

The first thing San did when he arrived home was notice your shoes in the doorway. The past 3 days, you haven't even had the time to text and call each other so he didn't know how you were doing.

"Baby love?" San called but there was no reply. He frowned in confusion and dropped his gym bag on the couch.

"Baby? Where are-" San paused when he saw you in his bed, fast asleep.

"My love." He whispered, hovering over you to give you a kiss on the cheek. You looked so precious and adorable in his shirt, hugging Shiber to you.

San went to take a shower, wanting to jump into bed with you and not disturb you with his sweaty self.

"Sannie?" San heard your sleepy voice from the bathroom and opened the door. You smiled when you saw him there.

"Don't you dare move a single inch. I haven't got a chance to get my cuddles. Let me dry my hair first." San threatened. You saluted and laid back down, squeezing Shiber tightly. You were glad you convinced San not to keep Shiber in storage or something.

"Okay, I'm here." You felt the bed dip as San crawled over to you. His arms reached for you to pull you close to him. The first thing he did was shower you in kisses.

"Come here, baby love." He smothered your in kisses, making you squirm and laugh.

"Ack, San!" You laughed as he gave you a final kiss on the lips.

"Sorry for being MIA and coming unannounced, I just needed to get away for a bit... It's only been a few days since she's been back and I already feel like I can't breathe." You sighed into his neck.

"Don't apologise, I'm glad you feel safe and comforted here. And I'm always happy to see you." He grinned.

"She appeared at my parents' place and wanted to stay over. The moment she left, I came straight here." You told him.

"So that's why you've been MIA. Where's her mom and brothers though? Shouldn't she be staying with them? Or even your oldest aunt, she always stays with her right?" San asked.

"Her mom and brothers couldn't care less. Her mother lets her do whatever she wants and her brothers would rather have her out of the house too since she orders them around and rules the house like a queen. And I think she's only staying my oldest aunt's place towards the end of her trip." You explained.

"My poor baby." San pouted.

"I have the first family gathering tomorrow and frankly, I'm so exhausted I don't even want to go..." You blinked.

"Can you not go? There is another gathering before she leaves, right?" San asked.

"No, I have to. The family will rip me to shreds if they found out I skipped a family gathering to stay with my boyfriend. Because family comes first, right?" You rolled your eyes.

"The only one tht doesn't like her is my mother." You chuckled.

"Your mom never puts up with anyone's bullshit so I am not surprised." San chuckled.

"Plus my mom lowkey doesn't like most of my dad's family anyway." You giggled. San laughed, nodding his head. He stroked your cheek with his thumb.

After you fell back asleep, San quietly grabbed his phone, careful not to disturb you. He thought to send your mother a text to let her know that you were with him and to ask if it was okay for you to stay the night with him.

'Also, I am aware that you have a family gathering to attend to tomorrow. I promise to make sure that I will drop her at your place earlier or the gathering's location on time. - San'

'Alright. Thanks for letting her stay with you, San. She's been stressed and I think she needs some comforting. - (y/n)'s mom'

'Thank you for trusting me. I promise to take good care of her. Have a nice evening. - San'

San then called his mother for recipes because he wanted to cook for you. He wasn't a gourmet cook but he could cook simple dishes for you to eat.

"San?" You called out from the room.

"In the kitchen, love!" San replied from his position by the stove. You shuffled out of the room, still holding Shiber.

"Oh my! Omonim, hello. I'm sorry I didn't see you there!" You jumped when you saw his mother on video call. You jumped out of the frame to adjust your crooked shirt and bed hair, as well to put Shiber down. Then you stepped back to properly bow to her. Both her and San were laughed at your funny actions.

"No worries, dear. Hello." She waved. San was still snickering at you so you secretly pinch his waist. He yelped and jumped, turning to glare at you.

"How are you and abonim? I miss Byeol!" You smiled to the camera, taking the phone up.

"Oh, we're doing fine, dear! Don't worry. And I'm sure Byeol misses you a lot too." She giggled, turning the camera to Byeol.

"Hi, Byeol! Such a cutie." You cooed. Byeol let out a loud meow in response, making you laugh. You could hear San's mom laugh on the other end before she turned the camera back to you.

"Ah, which reminds me. Thank you for sending appa the new foot massager! And for the royal jelly you sent me."

"I'm glad you both like it." You giggled, sitting on the couch and pulling your feet up.

"Like it? I can't even get him to get up from the thing... He even wanted to bring it to the dining table to use it while eating." San's mother sighed with a shake of her head. San smiled softly as he overheard your conversation with his mother.

"I didn't know you sent my parents things." San said after you handed his phone back to him once his mother hung up. You shrugged and leaned against the counter.

"Your mom always feeds me delicious food." You scooped the rice, seeing how San was finishing up his cooking.

"Well, thank you for taking such good care of my parents, baby love." He kissed your cheek.

"No need to thank me. I wanted to do it." You giggled. The both of you sat down at the small dining table to eat together, San handed out the cutlery.

It was nice, spending time with San like this. There was something warm about how domestic and homey it felt.

That's why when San drove you to your oldest aunt's place for the gathering the next day, you didn't want to leave the car. To coax you, San offered to walk you right to the doorstep. You pouted like a little child throwing a tantrum but still let San hold your hand to lead you to your aunt's apartment.

"I don't want to gooooooo. I want to stay with you." You whined, stomping your feet. Full disclaimer, you don't usually act like that, only around San.

"I know, baby. But I promised your mom I would send you here." San chuckled, pulling you along.

"You just hate me, don't you? Because if you love me, you wouldn't send me here."

"Ah, baby~ How can you say that?" San sent you a look. He came up to cup your cheeks, planting a kiss on your lips and swiping the slightly smudged lip gloss.

"Do you want me to stay with you then? I don't mind." San smiled.

"No, you should save yourself when you still can." You groaned. San squeezed your hand and walked with you.

"This is it." You stopped in front of the door, voice filled with dread and despair.

"You'll be okay, baby love. You're strong. But if you've had enough and need me to come get you, just say the word, hmm? I'll be here as soon as I can, your knight in shining armor." San engulfed you in a bear hug, planting a kiss on your temple.

"Thank you, Sannie. I don't know what I would do without you." You hugged him tightly. Before you ran the doorbell, you wanted to wait for San to leave first but you ran into your parents.

They were carrying the two desserts you made before going to San's place yesterday. One carrot cake with cream cheese frosting and the other was cookies.

"Omonim, abonim." San bowed respectfully.

"Thanks for dropping her off, San ah. Would you like to stay for some food?" Your father offered.

"Thank you for the offer but maybe next time, abonim. I already have plans with my sister." San lied. He turned to you and you sent him a grateful smile.

"Ah, alright." He nodded. With a final hug and a bow to your parents, San left. Your cousin opened the door.

"I knew I heard talking outside! Why are all of you just standing there and not ringing the doorbell?" She asked when she saw all of you.

"Oh, (y/n)'s boyfriend dropped her off so we were just greeting each other. But he has something to attend to so he couldn't stay." Your dad explained before entering the house to greet your siblings with your mum by his side. After you removed your shoes, your cousin held your arm.

"Hey, you know... I know your dad said your boyfriend had to rush off but he should have at least come in to say hello to everyone and introduce himself." She leaned in to whisper.

"Yeah but this isn't really the time to introduce him to everyone. Maybe next time." You replied.

"Was he in that much of a rush he couldn't say hi? It just gives off the impression that he's unfriendly and it's honestly quite rude, you know?"

"San's not rude, not in the slightest." Now you felt the need to defend your boyfriend because San was not rude and unfriendly.

"Wouldn't know, he didn't even bother to come in." She chuckled and left you to go.

You felt something boil within you, an ugly anger. She could insult you all she wants but mentioning San was going too far. San would give the world to you, he was a nicest person ever. You chewed on your bottom lip, willing yourself to hold back.

"(y/n)! Why are you just standing there? Come on!" Your other cousins call you. Once again, you took a deep breath, swallowing your anger before forcing a smile and going to join them.

"Hey." You greeted them with hugs.

"My sister said your boyfriend came?" The cousin you were closest to, whispered in your ear as he hugged you.

"Yeah. He wanted to come in to say hi but I told him to just go and save himself. Luckily I did or else he would get grilled, I can't risk that." You sighed.

"Good call." He chuckled, patting your shoulder. You giggled and went to greet your other relatives.

"Oh, (y/n). Can you change the hair appointment you booked for me?" Your cousin asked as you were scooping food.

"You can't make it? I made sure to book it on an open slot in your schedule. And my hairstylist is doing me a favour by coming in on her day off to do your hair before you leave..." You sighed.

"I appreciate that but I don't want to have to wake up so early when it's one of my last days off. You booked it too early." She shrugged.

"Yeah, you should just call and change her appointment. You know she doesn't wake up early for these things, if she goes late, it'll be an even bigger waste of your stylist's time." Your oldest aunt voiced out in support of your cousin. You knew your cousin purposely said it out loud in front of the adults.

"Thank you, you can change the appointment to one of the empty slots in the afternoon or evenings then." She smiled and took her food to go back to one of the tables.

"(y/n), when you booked the chinese restaurant brunch, did you preorder the peking duck?" Your oldest aunt checked.

"No, I was just told to book the table for 8 people at 11 am..." You blinked.

"Ah, you should know we always get the peking duck! Better call them to reserve it before it's too late. I only get peking duck when I am back from London." Your cousin pouted.

"I'll get on it..." You said, trying to contain the sourness in your voice. Putting your food plate down, you went to call the restaurant.

When San heard the doorlock beeping, he checked the time on his laptop. He continued typing on his reports, knowing that you knew your way in. And as he expected, you came trudging in, falling face first onto the sofa.

"Hey, baby love. How was the gathering?" He greeted. You mumbled something into the couch, burying your face into the material of his sofa. San chuckled, putting his laptop and coming to you.

"I didn't hear a single word you just said, my love." San crouched down beside you and stroked the back of your head.

"San..." San didn't expect you to lift your head and to see tears in your eyes.

"Baby! My sweet love, why are you crying? What happened?" San was shocked, he wasn't expecting to see you crying so that sent him into a panic.

"I... I..." You shook your head, feeling like a baby for crying. San hushed you, not wanting to press you for answers.

"It's okay, I've got you." He pulled your leg over his lap so you were straddling him. You clutched onto the material of his shirt like a koala.

"Breathe, my love. Breathe with me. Shh..." His voice was soft as pressed his forehead against yours and purposely breathed loudly so you could follow him.

"It's okay, breathe, baby love. Slow down and take all the time you need." He whispered softly, rubbing your back. You nodded your head in agreement, you did need a minute, a minute to breathe and soak in San's comforting warmth. San was patient, quietly comforting you until your sobs turned to soft whimpers.

"There we go. Good girl. It's going to be okay. Just keep breathing." He kept his eyes trained on you.

"Thank you, San..." You murmured. San guessed that nothing particularly bad happened. You were probably just so frustrated, and mentally and physically exhausted.

"Nothing for you to thank me for. I hate seeing you cry, love." He grasped your hand, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb.

"I know it's tiring. I'm sorry I can't make it any better." He whispered.

"No, you make it better by being San." You pulled away to meet his eyes, cupping his face in your hands. You were so grateful for San being the most amazing person in the world.

"Cute. I'm glad me being San makes you feel better." He chuckled, holding your hand to kiss your fingertips.

"It's not easy being a San." You played along.

"It's all worth it for you. When it's for you, it's never tiring or difficult." San reached up to wipe the last tears off your cheeks. You hugged him again, feeling his arms securely wrap around your waist.

"Do you know she reached over and took food off my plate? Saying that she's deprieved in London so she never gets to eat such nice food. Then she was being annoying by trying to 'convince' me to give my entire share since she deserves it more?" You complained to San.

"In the end, she used her fingers to take bites of my food!" You sighed, shaking your head.

"At that point, I'd rather give her my food. I don't want to know if she's washed her hands. Couldn't she have just taken her own portion and be happy with it?" San sighed, rubbing your arm.

"Apparently not. She kept all this food for herself, saying she'll eat it later so others won't take it and guess what happened?" You asked.

"She didn't even finish it?" San guessed.

"Exactly! First she stops us from eating then after that, says it's too much and she'll feel sick if she eats it. She'd rather THROW IT AWAY!" You exclaimed.

"That's horrible." San frowned. If San was there, he would be frustrated and annoyed too.

"My aunt bought this really fancy, nice ice cream for all of us to share. My cousin took my portion without asking me! She said I could have it again another time but she can't. And by the way, that was her THIRD share. So I didn't have any... It's not even that I wanted the ice cream that badly, it's more... her!" You groaned.

"I know, baby love. I can't believe you two are from the same family when you're so different." San said, leaning his head on his hand.

"She's so different from the rest of the cousins..." You threw your head back.

"I know you said it wasn't about the ice cream but do you want some? I stopped by the store on my way back and stocked up the freezer with your favourite." San offered.

"Why are you so perfect, Choi San?" You whined.

"Far from but I'm glad you see me as such." He kissed the top of your head. You went to the kitchen to grab the ice cream and two spoons.

"No, you eat it, baby." San shook his head when you held the spoon out to him.

"The best part about ice cream is sharing it so take the spoon." You insisted, taking a seat beside him. San peeled open the lid for you to dig in. You leaned against his arm, the both of you taking turns to scoop out of the tub to eat.

"Do you want a blanket?" San asked.

"No, I just want to stay like this... With you... I don't want anything else." You said with a shake of your head. You were just happy in San's presence, he was all you needed.

"Just one more week before she goes back, one more week with one more gathering and it'll be over." You sighed.

"You can do it." San chuckled. When the ice cream was done, San threw the empty tub while you washed the used spoons.

"Go shower and come to bed, hmm? I'll wait for you." San squeezed your hip. You nodded with a hum, feeling slightly sticky on your cheeks from crying previously.

The last big, family gathering was at your house. You barely slept the night before because you were stressed. While you baked the desserts in the middle of the night, you were talking to San on video call. You felt bad for making him stay up with you but he was gaming on the side.

"Hello! Welcome." You heard your parents greet the family members that came. You were still setting up the food table, getting everything that you would need.

"Wait, you're wearing that when you have guests in the house?" Your cousin came up to you.

"No, I just haven't got the time to change since I was helping my mother set up." You replied with a soft sigh.

"Well, now that guests are here. You should change. You shouldn't welcome them in home clothes." She raised an eyebrow. You pursed your lips and placed the napkins on the stand.

"Honey! Go change. We can handle the rest, thank you." Your mother came.

"Sure, mom." You nodded with a tight smile and went to take a quick shower to wash the sweat off you.

'She just arrived and she's already giving me grief... - (y/n)'

After sending San a text, you threw your phone aside and took out clothes to change in. You stood by your dresser to dry your hair a little, not wanting to get told off by your relatives by going around with wet hair.

"Oh, welcome! So glad you could make it!" There was a loud commotion outside, you mainly heard your mother exclaim. Putting your hair dryer down, you went outside.

"Thank you for having me." The latest guest said, handing your mother a bouquet of flowers and your father, a bottle of wine.

"What..." You stood there, frozen and dumbfounded.

"(y/n), you didn't tell me your boyfriend was coming!" Your relatives all looked fondly at you and San as he respectfully bowed to greet all of them, shaking their hands too.

"Uhhh, yeah I didn't know too..." You said, frowning slightly hoping you were not dreaming.

"It was my idea to surprise you with San." Your mother giggled.

"Yes, it was all her idea." San, handsomely dressed in a shirt and dress pants, wrapped an arm around your waist, nodding his head.

"Hey." He smiled to you. You smiled back, still kind of surprised by his sudden appearance. But you took a deep breath, San being here shouldn't make you scared, it should make you feel more relaxed and comforted. You were still worried that your extended family will be too hard on him.

"Wait a minute, come here for a bit?" You asked softly. San nodded, following you to your room.

"Baby love, I'm sorry, I know you said-" San was cut off by you throwing your arms around him to hug him tightly. His hands went to hold your hips.

"I'm hoping this hug means you aren't angry?" He chuckled.

"Not at all. Surprised, yes. But angry? No. I know your intentions are good." You smiled softly, pulling away to give him a peck.

"Of course. I'm here with you." He placed kisses along your jaw, making you giggle at how ticklish it was. After that, you both went out, not wanting to stay in your room for too long.

"Let me help you, omonim!" San squeezed your hand and left your side to go your mother in the kitchen.

"Ah, San, go get food and eat. You're a guest." Your mother chuckled, shooing him out.

"You should eat! You and (y/n) have been busy preparing the whole morning, I'm sure you guys didn't get to eat breakfast. Come, I'll take over." San insisted on doing the dishes. Your mother gave up, going to join your father at the food table.

"You wash, I'll dry." You grabbed the dish cloth.

"Baby, I want you to eating something or at least, sit down to rest. You didn't even sleep last night..." San frowned.

"With you, I don't feel tired at all. And we can eat together later." You shook your head. San sighed in defeat, reaching over to knock his head against yours since his hands were soapy.

You weren't done with the dishes but your mother and father came to chase you and San out.

"I guess we should eat." You shrugged. Sticking by San seemed to save you from your cousin and save San from your relatives.

"You want this?" San asked, holding your plate for you. He held both your plates and patiently followed you while you scooped the dishes for both of you.

"No~ No vegetables." San held his plate away when you tried to put spinach salad.

"(y/n), don't be mean to him." Your mother chided. You shot her a look of betrayal while San smirked proudly. With enough food on your plates, you went to sit down with your other cousins. They were nice, making an effort to get to know San and including him in the general conversations like he was part of the family.

"Here." San removed the bones from the galbi and placed it on your plate for you, taking the other pieces that still had bones in them off your plate.

"Thanks." You smiled. Shifting your eyes, you saw the judgemental stares from your spoiled cousin.

"San, would you like a glass of wine?" Your father offered.

"No, thank you. I have to drive later. Do you want a glass?" San turned to you. You nodded and San stepped up, respectfully receiving your glass from your father with a slight bow.

San got along well with your relatives and cousins. You could leave him alone and he would be fine.

"I'm going to the bathroom." You stood up. San held your plate for you while he conversed with your uncle and cousin.

"(y/n), why did you bring your boyfriend to the gathering?" Your cousin stopped you in the hallway just as you were exiting the bathroom. You took a slight step back, suddenly feeling how menacing her presence was.

"I didn't bring him, not planned to at least. You heard it earlier, my mother surprised me by inviting him and my father wanted to introduce him to the family." You spoke calmly.

"Do you know how humiliating and unfair it is with you parading him around in front of me?" She crossed her arms.

"What do you mean? What does San being friendly and nice have to do with you?" You frowned.

"You saw how interrogative they were with my boyfriend, they treated him so much like an outsider. It's unfair that they warmly welcome yours." She scoffed.

"Shouldn't you be finding issues with your boyfriend rather than issues with mine? It's not San's fault that he's better." You glared.

"How can you say that?" She gasped, obviously feeling the shock of someone speaking to her that way.

"Your boyfriend came in, dressed like a slop! He didn't bother to say hi and introduce himself, he just helped himself to the food and didn't bother to offer anyone help with anything. So those issues lie with your boyfriend, they have NOTHING to do with mine." You clenched your fist by your side.

"You-" She took a step forward.

"Hey, baby love. I was looking for- Is everything okay?" San came, a slight frown on his face when he realised it was you and your cousin, the tension in the air heavy and thick.

"I don't know, is it?" You raised your eyebrows at your cousin, making San glance at her as he slotted himself between you and her.

"No offence but this is a family issue, San sshi." Your cousin said with spite. You rolled your eyes.

"I am aware, I just want to try my best to protect (y/n) from anything that may upset her." San smiled. He didn't wait for her to react, or he didn't care.

"Let's go, your food's getting cold." He patted your head. You nodded and walked back out with him.

"Sit here." San naturally brought you to the balcony to sit with him on the bench for some privacy, bringing your plate and wine glass with him. The way he did it, no one paid any mind. He disappeared for a bit and came back with a throw blanket from your room.

"Thanks, San. I'm fine. Really, and this time I mean it when I'm fine." You chuckled as he draped the blanket over your lap so you wouldn't be cold.

"What happened?" He asked softly.

"Blaming you for things that have nothing to do with you. You know that I would take any insult but when it comes to you..." You sighed.

"My hero." San cooed teasingly, scratching your chin like you were a cat. You knew he did that because you always did that to him, comparing his likeness to that of a cat.

"You're always protecting me and being my rock. I can protect you too." You cleared your throat.

"Thank you, baby love. You're so cute. But you know I don't care what anyone else thinks. All that matters to me, is what you think."

"Well, I already think you're the most amazing person in the world and that I don't deserve you-" San stopped you by putting his hand over your mouth.

"There you go again, sprouting nonsense." He pouted with a frown. You laughed and held your hands up in defeat, stabbing a piece of meat to eat. San looked at you with pride and happiness, as if you were his whole world. And if you ask him, he'll probably say that you ARE his whole world.

"Shall I get you a refill of wine?" He offered, gesturing to your empty wine glass.

"No, it's okay, just stay here with me?" You asked.

"Of course, as long as you need." He smiled softly, letting you lean your head on his shoulder. Lacing fingers with you, he brought your hand up to kiss the back of it.

You were wrong, there was nothing for you to be scared of, bringing San to a family gathering.

It didn't bring you more stress and anxiety like you thought it would. Instead it made you feel reassured and comforted having him around, the same feeling San always gives you.

Your crazy, chaotic family didn't chase him away. They welcomed and accepted him, seeing him the same way that you do.

"I'm grateful I have you with me, Sannie. Not just here and now... but always." You squeezed his hand.

"I'm glad you feel that way because I'm not letting you go that easily. Plus, I think I can safely say most of your family loves me. Including your dad! He wanted me to drink wine with him and told me I could stay the night if I need to." He grinned proudly.

"Wow, that's really progress. Coming from my dad. I thought it would take a while more for him to be friendlier with you." You chuckled.

"He's just protective of his daughter like any father is. I would be too if my daughter was like you." He said. You rolled your eyes and snorted at his cheesiness.

"And this is a warning, I will be protective of our daughter. I'm serious." He said seriously.

"W-What are you saying now?" You grew flustered at his words and punched his arm, fanning your face. But deep down, you knew you would want nothing more than to have a future with San.

Masterlist

390 notes · View notes

murdockparker · 11 months ago

Text

Our Cottage

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: A first anniversary is nearly as important and memorable as the wedding day—if only she had remembered it. Or, at the very least, hoped her husband also forgot. Knowing her husband? Unlikely.

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: fluffy fluff!! cheesy as cheese gets I'm afraid, mentions and illusions of sex but no smut (sorry babes maybe next time)

A/N: Another self indulgent fic for me myself and I. You're welcome to read it if you want I guess—I have nothing else to say about it

The room was too fragrant.

Maybe it was her sensitive sense of smell that had awoken her, but something about the near ten bouquets that adorned her bedchambers led her to believe that both could be true.

“What in the world?”

“Good morning, ma’am,” Mrs. Crabtree said, knocking unceremoniously on the door. “I do hate to intrude on your beauty sleep, but I was instructed to beat the drapes and I’m afraid this is the last room I have left to do.”

“No, no,” (Y/N) groaned, sitting up in bed, “I bet it’s time for me to rise anyway. Can’t sleep the day away.”

“You’re much more forgiving than Mr. Bridgerton,” Mrs. Crabtree smiled, entering further into the bedchambers. “As much as I miss the young master’s presence here at the estate, if he found out that I awoke you early,” she laughed quietly, “I reckon the mister and I would be packing our bags before nightfall.”

“Oh please,” (Y/N) peeled the covers off of her body, stretching her legs, “Benedict loves you both dearly—”

“But he loves you more,” the woman points, making good work of taking the drapes off the wall. “Why, do you think Mr. Bridgerton would purchase the same amount of flowers for me?”

She looks closer at the bouquets—all full of a different variety of blooms. Most filled with her favorites, but a handful were a collection of his favorites as well. “Why did Benedict purchase all of these flowers, anyway? It seems excessive…”

Mrs. Crabtree’s smile seemed secretive at first, fading in realization after looking Mrs. Bridgerton in the eyes. “Oh, my dear, you’re serious.”

“Benedict is usually known for romantic gestures,” (Y/N) said indifferently, “I do not recall a time he did something quite like this, though.”

“Well, I can recall a time Mr. Crabtree and I had to clean up a shocking amount of paint and a few precarious handprints across his study…”

She wished she was still in bed, wanting nothing more than to pull the covers over her bright red face. It was one of the many nights of their honeymoon—Benedict had the bright idea to try and paint with their bodies instead of brushes. She thought he had the decency to clean it all up in the morning. She thought, anyhow.

“I-I’m sorry you had to clean up such a mess,” (Y/N) said, praying the apology could transcend lifetimes. “I will be sure to let Benedict know he needs to be more careful with his oils.”

“Oh, your love keeps me young, ma’am,” Mrs. Crabtree said. “But as I was saying—do you really not realize why your husband had purchased so many flowers?”

“Not a clue.”

“Perhaps it isn’t my place,” Mrs. Crabtree said slowly. “But you and the master have been married for a year now.”

“Yes, yes,” (Y/N) waved. “Nearly year of marital bliss—”

“A year ago, today.”

“Today is… surely not…”

Noticing a perfectly placed card in the bouquet on her nightstand, she grabbed it and quickly sped over the looping font.

Dearest,

I hope these blooms find you well, I instructed the Crabtrees to be extra careful in their delivery this morn. As exquisite as the flowers may be, and I insisted on their exquisiteness, they could never hold a candle to you. Light of my life and song of my heart, how pleasantly perfect the last year has been.

Happy anniversary, my love.

Yours forever,

Their anniversary. Their first anniversary, and she had completely forgotten about it.

“Mr. Bridgerton is still visiting Kent until this evening,” Mrs. Crabtree explained, as if the young missus didn’t know. “I’m sure that provides ample time to prepare something for his arrival, at the very least twelve hours give or take.”

“How could I have forgotten?” (Y/N) was beside herself, forgetting her anniversary? Her first anniversary? Surely it wasn’t an omen of some kind. She was holding onto his note rather tightly. “What kind of a wife am I?”

“Not a terrible one,” Mrs. Crabtree said. “Why, I recall forgetting quite a few of my anniversaries as well.”

“Not your first one though, correct?”

“Well, no—”

“We need to go to town,” (Y/N) said determinedly, flinging her closet open, eyes scanning over every sensible dress she owned. “I need to figure out a way to top whatever spectacle my husband has planned for this evening.”

“I’ll call for a carriage,” Mrs. Crabtree sighed, knowing full well that the drapes will not get finished this afternoon.

“If we were in London, why, I’d have hundreds of choices on what to get Benedict,” (Y/N) said, skimming through the few booths at the market. Life out in the country was agreeable, favorable even, but it was moments like these that she truly missed the convenience of living in such a populated place. “I just do not see how I am to make a gift with anything here.”

“Perhaps, ma’am,” Mrs. Crabtree said, carrying a basket full of fresh fruit and veg—taking every opportunity of the market while they’re out, “perhaps you should try gifting something from the heart?”

“What to wives usually get their husbands for the first anniversary?” (Y/N) asked absentmindedly, fingers running over a healthy pile of apples.

“I find that most women in your place have the pleasure of gifting news of an heir right around or before the year mark,” Mrs. Crabtree said, a hint of a smile dancing on her lips. “I don’t suppose you can surprise Mr. Bridgerton with such news?”

Her face went red. “No. Decidedly not.”

“Shame,” Mrs. Crabtree clicked, “I was rather hoping to be doting on a babe sometime soon…”

“What did you give Mr. Crabtree for your anniversary?” (Y/N) tried to change the subject, ignoring the perfect thought of a little baby with Benedict’s eyes. Perhaps they would have her nose? Her smile?

“Well,” the older woman’s face lit up, “our Henry was the best kind of gift—for me or Mr. Crabtree. I wish I could be more help in that regard, dear.”

Defeated, (Y/N) threw a handful of apples into her basket. The apples weren’t even all that good this time of year. Perhaps she could convince Mrs. Crabtree to bake a pie. Either way, a snack for the horses and their hard work this morning.

“Please forgive me for speaking out of turn, ma’am,” Mrs. Crabtree spoke quietly, “but your husband loves you dearly, I am quite sure he would be most content with any gift you give him.”

“Oh I am sure he would be well suited to accept anything I made or purchased,” (Y/N) agreed. “I rather think I could sneeze on a piece of parchment and he’d write to the National Gallery to induct it into their collection.”

“He would,” Mrs. Crabtree agreed, holding back a laugh.

“Why did I marry such a thoughtful man?” (Y/N) groaned, fist clenching tighter on her basket. “I am destined to be in this predicament every year until the day I perish, aren’t I?”

“To be in a happy marriage, ma’am?”

“To have to deal with my inadequacy for gifts,” she corrected. “We are but a competitive match, after all. Chess is a blood sport with us,” (Y/N) laughed, recalling the last time they had played the game. They both were of the same mind, irritating as it were, it was as if they were playing themselves. It usually ended well regardless, with one under the other in the bedroom. “He probably has been planning something since we were wed, I’m sure. How do I ever top such a thing?”

“Might I suggest the baby narrative again?”

“Mrs. Crabtree, I know you mean it in jest, but it really sounds like my only option at this point.”

“I cannot help my need to see perfect little Bridgerton babies around the estate,” Mrs. Crabtree said cleverly. “But I also know when that day comes and you and Mr. Bridgerton do end up having children, it will be the most welcome of presents. Just, not this year, hm?”

“No,” she sighed, “not this year.”

“Very well,” Mrs. Crabtree nodded. “Perhaps we should head back to the estate?”

“I suppose,” (Y/N) sighed again, kicking a stray rock off of the path. “No use in sulking at the market when I can sulk in the comfort of my own home and await my perfect husband’s arrival with his perfect present.”

“Chin up, dear,” Mrs. Crabtree laughed, putting the baskets away in the carriage. “It’s endearing that you care so deeply about Mr. Bridgerton's gift. I’m sure whatever you land on will be just perfect.” A tease of sarcasm, a tease at her young missus.

“You’ve made your point,” (Y/N) grumbled, hopping into the cab. “Perhaps I should just accept defeat.”

“Oh, well now that won’t do,” Mrs. Crabtree admonished playfully, closing the door behind her. The carriage begun moving home. “You yourself said you were a competitive match, and I for one would like to see Mr. Bridgerton bested. All men need to be reminded that the wife is the true head of the house from time to time.”

(Y/N) snorted. How she cared so deeply for the staff here in the country, the Crabtrees were always a breath of fresh air. “He’s well aware.”

“Remind him anyway,” Mrs. Crabtree said absentmindedly.

As if struck by lightning, Mrs. Bridgerton knew exactly what she could gift her husband.

Benedict was exhausted. His family’s bad timing is never lost on him, needing his immediate attention at Aubrey Hall for one reason or another. His mother’s correspondence begged him to come urgently, a matter only meant to be discussed in person rather through letters. With a heavy heart he left his wife behind, knowing he’d only be gone for a handful of days anyway, even if he would be missing the majority of their anniversary day.

Benedict grinned wickedly. They still had plenty of the night, however.

When he originally had purchased My Cottage, he never expected to share the less-than-humble estate with anyone else, but like it was meant to be—and he had a very good reason to believe it was—(Y/N) made it her own and took to the country as well as he thought. She had even made fast friends with the Crabtrees, who, by all regards, Benedict thought of as family.

“Mr. Bridgerton,” Mr. Crabtree greeted, nodding to the young master exiting the carriage. Anthony had sent for him with a family transport—knowing Benedict would not want to leave (Y/N) without—all the more reason for his brother to agree to come to Aubrey Hall. “Welcome home, sir.”

“Crabtree,” Benedict nodded back, jumping down to the dirt path.

“How was your family, sir?”

“Dreadful,” Benedict groaned. “Made even more taxing by the two entire days of travel there and back. Do they not realize how far Wiltshire is to Kent?”

“I am sure the viscount is well aware,” Mr. Crabtree said, treading lightly. “I am also sure that they would not have called upon you for a small matter, either.”

“No,” Benedict sighed, rolling his shoulders. The trip had been a long one, his muscles ached. “It was a good reason for my visit, but it still pained me to be from my wife for so very long, especially today.”

“Ah, well, your missus has not been herself since you left,” Mr. Crabtree said. “I am quite sure that seeing you will be a happy reunion indeed.”

“Please ensure that you and your missus find your lodgings in the cabin, this eve,” Benedict said, as if the thought just occurred to him. Asking his staff to stay at the cabin by the pond became a regular occurance, especially after his marriage. “It is my anniversary, after all.”

Mr. Crabtree smiled. “Already done, sir.”

“Excellent,” Benedict said, trying his best not to grin from ear to ear. “Have a good night.”

“You as well, sir.”

Benedict knew that dinner would be waiting for him inside, Mrs. Crabtree probably having already made his favorites. After his day of travel, he was ravenous—more for food in this very moment than anything else, but he would settle for his wife, too.

“Darling,” Benedict called out, removing his boots by the front entryway. “Your fantastic husband has returned!”

Silence.

“Darling?” He called again, only to be met with the ticking of the grand clock in the foyer. “Playing hard to get, it seems…”

A shimmering of light caught his eye. Candlelight was emitting from his study, his studio, flickering from the crack under the door.

Odd.

“(Y/N)…?”

He opened the door cautiously, only to find his wife hunched over an easel. She had a streak of blue paint on her right cheek, a smidge of green right across the bridge of her nose. Benedict couldn’t recall the last time he saw something so endearing.

“Oh! Benedict!” (Y/N) said, nearly jumping five feet into the air. “You’re home!”

“I am,” he laughed, shutting the door to the study. “What’re you doing in here?”

“Cooking,” she deadpanned, posing with a hand on her hip, painters pallet in the other. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“After all my begging to get you to pick up a brush, you decide to do it whilst I’m away?” He pressed his hand to his chest. “I cannot decide if I am touched or hurt.”

“It was meant to be a surprise!” (Y/N) laughed, setting the pallet down. “A gift for you.”

“A gift?” Benedict mused, walking closer to his wife. “And what did I do to deserve such a gift?”

“You married me,” she said simply, wiping her hands of any wet paint. They were still covered in a kaleidoscope of colors, but all dried down and hardly worth the effort to clean at the present moment. “A year ago today, I gather.”

“Oh yes,” Benedict said knowingly. “That is today, isn’t it?” His wife grinned up at him, looking more beautiful than the day he met her, a day he could have sworn was burned into his mind forever.

“So I’ve been told,” (Y/N) said. “I hate to admit, but I started on this later that I would have liked, only working on it for the last eight hours—”

“You didn’t happen to forget our anniversary, did you?” Benedict crossed his arms, his voice teasing.

“Of course not!” She lied, keeping her voice even. “You are just an impossible person to make a gift for, that is all.”

“Ah,” Benedict clicked. He did not believe her, but forgave her all in the same breath. “I see.”

“So it is not yet finished—”

“May I see it?”

“No, not yet,” (Y/N) said, turning the easel away quickly. He couldn’t have possibly seen what it was from where he was standing, anyway.

“What if…” Benedict crossed the room, carefully opening the closet in the wall. “We showed them together?” He pulled a similar sized canvas from the contents of the closet, covered in a plain white sheet. Of course he painted her something, it seemed only right. She married an artist, after all.

“Yours is going to be much better than mine,” (Y/N) said, nearly melting into the floor. “I will feel inadequate comparing our work.”

“Nonsense,” Benedict scoffed, walking back towards his wife. “They were both made with the same amount of love, I’m sure of it.”

“Perhaps…”

“Come on,” he said, nudging her arm with the corner of his canvas lovingly. “On the count of three?”

She nodded. “One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

She spun the easel around just as Benedict removed the cover from the canvas in his hand.

Laughter filled the room.

“Oh my darling, I could kiss you,” Benedict said, voice full of love, his eyes not straying from her canvas for a moment. “Granted, I have wanted nothing more than to kiss you since I arrived—”

“Out of everything we could have painted,” (Y/N) giggled, brushing hair out of her face. “We picked the same subject?”

On both canvases laid a landscape rendition of My Cottage, one obviously more well-done than the other. Benedict’s gave a sense of perfect imperfection, something worth hanging in a gallery or museum. (Y/N)’s, while being done by the hand of a novice in only a handful of hours, gave it the sense of home, the shared feeling the couple had every day at their estate.

“We share the same mind,” Benedict surmised, setting his work on a neighboring easel, putting both side-by-side. “What a stunning collaboration on our end.”

“You jest,” (Y/N) pushed Benedict playfully. “Yours is far superior to mine. A toddler could have done better work.”

“Nonsense!” Benedict said, pulling his wife into his side, kissing her temple. “You obviously put such care into it, no matter how lopsided the left side of our home may be—”

“Benedict—”

“It’s brilliant, my love,” Benedict sang, turning (Y/N) to look directly at him. “I couldn’t have asked for a better gift.”

“Truly?”

“Well, I fear I am still waiting on my welcome kiss…” Benedict sighed.

“Needy, needy man,” (Y/N) bubbled, rocking on her toes to reach her husband’s face, all but happy to oblige.

After a total of four days apart, the kiss was one that was worth waiting for. Saccharine sweet and slow, it was welcoming, it was home. Much like their first kiss, Benedict idly wondered if (Y/N)’s lips were always meant to be captured in his own—as if they were quite literally made for each other.

“Oh dear,” (Y/N) giggled, pulling away from her husband’s embrace, thumb rubbing soothing circles on his jaw. He needed to shave.

“What? Do I have something on my face?”

“Paint,” she said, swiping her thumb across his cheek. “Entirely my fault. I’m not even sure how I got it on my face to begin with…”

“Hardly the first time,” Benedict quipped, leaning back in to kiss her once more.

“Do you really like it?” (Y/N) asked, resting her head on his shoulder—their attention somehow turned back to the canvases. “Or are you lying to me?”

“I would never lie to you,” Benedict said. She believed him. “But, I do suppose a few more hours would boast well to the quality…”

Another playful slap to his arm.

“Where are we to hang yours?” Her hand grazed his masterpiece. He must have finished it ages ago, hiding it away for just the right moment. “The entryway gets too much sun—”

“What about our bedchambers?” He offered.

“No, I want our guests to admire your work of Our Cottage,” she hummed, focusing her attention to the beautiful wreath he lovingly added to the front door. She loved adorning their door with fresh flowers, a detail he surely could have overlooked, but still included anyway. “Perhaps in the drawing room?”

“Our Cottage…” Benedict mumbled happily. “I think it’s high time we changed the name to that, don’t you agree? Seeing as it is no longer ‘my’ anything, not with you here.”

“Considering it still is not a cottage in the slightest, I have a few disagreements on that alone,” she teased. Their estate was nearly the furthest thing from a cottage, nearly a small mansion. “But yes… Our Cottage seems fitting.”

“And where will we hang your masterpiece?” Benedict pulled her tighter into his side. “Shall we hang them side-by-side? Allow our guests to see just how talented the Bridgertons can be?”

“Oh I am quite alright with stowing this away until forever,” (Y/N) laughed. “No guest needs to see this poor attempt when the true artistry falls onto you.”

“Poppycock!” Benedict dismissed. “My wife worked very hard on this, I refuse to just ‘stow it away’.”

“Well, then where do you suggest we hang it?” She said, trying not to smile, his praise flooding her senses from her head to her toes.

“I may have a few ideas…”

The wondrous scent of flowers filled their home once more, something that happened more and more frequently in the summer months, when flowers of all sorts were in season. Benedict made sure he outdid himself from last year, adorning each room in their home with at least two bouquets each, rather than just a load in their bedchambers. His reasoning? They only get the once to celebrate their second anniversary, might as well make it special.

“Should we move this one?” (Y/N) asked, holding a rather large assortment in her hand. “I would hate for her to be overwhelmed by the scent…”

“Darling, she’s fine,” Benedict said, grabbing the bouquet from his wife. “But, if you insist, I shall make an exception on this room.”

“She’s a baby,” (Y/N) giggled, watching her husband clumsily run across the hall to place the bouquet in their bedchambers. “I do not think she has the capacity to admire such a thing yet.”

“We want our daughter to be well versed, do we not?” Benedict said, returning to the nursery. “Best we start her on the language of flowers as soon as we can. An educated lady is a respected lady.”

“You’re impossible,” (Y/N) grinned.

“So I’ve been told.”

“God, she’s so perfect,” she said, looking over the crib with a look one could only describe as lovestruck. “How did we manage to make such a beautiful thing?”

“You did most of the work,” Benedict said, suddenly beside her. “I only showed up the once, if I recall.”

“Oh hush,” (Y/N) leaned up against him, feeling the warmth of his body touching her own. “A perfect anniversary present.”

“She’s been quite the gift the last few months, I’ll give you that,” Benedict hummed, his fingers lazily rubbing shapes on the top of her arm. “But I’m afraid that title still falls to the gift from last year.”

Framed perfectly atop the crib of their precious baby girl was the rendition of their home, the one (Y/N) had worked so hard on a year prior. While it had looked a bit more polished after Benedict offered his wife some very well needed advice, it was still lopsided and patchy, but very much full of love. He had hung it two weeks later, after it had completely dried and framed, causing his wife to sob tears of joy on the placement.

Their daughter was born only nine months after.

“Our Cottage,” she sighed happily.

“Our Cottage,” Benedict kissed her temple, looking down at his daughter and back at his beautiful wife. “Happy anniversary, my love.”

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagines #hi i love b.b and no one can stop me #if anyone wants some wine with a side of this CHEESE come and see me

708 notes · View notes

httpiastri · 6 months ago

Text

more than enough – jmm21

you hate your birthday, but pepe is determined to change your mind.

genre: fluff/a little angsty/comfort

pairing: reader x college!pepe marti, ft christian mansell and sebastian montoya

warnings: uhhh anxiety and such ?? idk

word count: 2.6k

author's note: just like last year, this is merely a very self-indulgent birthday gift to myself (and a bit of a late birthday gift for a friend on here who confided in me about not liking their birthday either), so sorry if you don't relate but i needed to write this for myself despite how painful it was. not happy with how it turned out but, i had to get it out of my system. <3 (also not proofread because i will freak out likely aaaaa)

this is mostly a standalone fic but ig it kinda works as college!pepe so i put that there. i got this idea at my mom's birthday back in march but never actually wrote it until this last week... also loosely based on a tiktok that really spoke to me.

also! this doesn't really work with the headcanon of pepe, seb and chris all sharing an apartment, but i wanted it this way. i also wasn't comfortable including gaby or hermes, so i used the names nora and emma for seb's and chris's respective gfs. :)

"why didn't you tell me your birthday is next week?"

the question is innocent enough, only borderline accusing, but something tightens in your stomach nonetheless. you don't look up from the pot in your hand, however, instead continuing to scrub it with your dishbrush like it's no big deal. "who told you that?"

pepe chuckles as he makes his way over to your side, leaning against the counter as he looks at you. "emma," he tells you, crossing his arms over his chest. "going to answer my question now?"

"i must've forgotten to tell you."

"oh, come on..." your boyfriend shakes his head. "is there a reason i wasn't allowed to know? did i do something? do you not trust me? am i-"

"pepe," you say, his name followed by a sigh as you look over to him in hopes of stopping his rambling. "it's nothing personal."

"what is it, then?" he presses, eyes following your hands as they begin to rinse the pot he'd cooked your pasta in just a couple hours ago. "why don't you want to tell me?"

you take a deep breath, shrugging your shoulders before turning off the tap. "i just... i'm not a big fan of my birthday."

the biggest understatement of the year.

you hate your birthday.

for a number of reasons, really. some to do with your family and childhood; many to do with your own inner thoughts and feelings.

you hate how it reminds you of every bad birthday you had as a kid. you hate how it makes you hopeful that people will remember and congratulate you, because you hate how painful it is when they don't. you hate how you always get reminded of how little people seem to care, and how they always prioritize themselves even on what's supposed to be your day.

it's too much of a mess to explain to him right now – maybe, hopefully, one day you'll have the energy and courage to go through it all.

you hadn't forgotten to tell pepe; you had just been silently hoping he wouldn't address it, and that everyone else would forget, too. but apparently, you have a snitch in your friend group. "what do you mean?" pepe asks.

"i'd much rather not celebrate it." you place the pot on the drying rack, wiping your hands on your towel hanging by the stove before turning to him. "a lot of stuff regarding my birthday just makes me really upset. if i could, i'd just... make it disappear, honestly."

your eyes flicker to the floor, fingers nervously fiddling with the sleeve of your shirt. he can tell you don't want to get into it, and he won't push you. instead, he opens his arms wide, taking a step forward. you accept the offer instantly, arms wrapping around his waist as he pulls you close.

the air in your little dorm room isn't as thick as you had expected it to be when telling him all of this – but at the same time, you aren't surprised. pepe has always had a way of grounding you, making everything seem a bit easier. "i can't make it completely disappear, i think," he says, placing his chin on top of your head. "but i can pretend for you."

you hum contently, letting your eyes close for a few moments. "that would be great."

he remains quiet for a couple of seconds, but then he can't stop himself from talking again. "do you really not want anything? no party? you threw me that party for my birthday, i'd feel guilty not doing anything back."

"i did it because you had a fun time and you like those things, and because i enjoyed planning it. but i was really hoping i could skip all that," you answer, pulling away ever so slightly to look up at him with a sheepish expression. "i would honestly rather have dinner with you, emma, nora, sebas, chris... maybe get some takeout from that new indian place down the road?"

to pepe's ears, you sound more than just a tiny bit crazy – but your being so different from him is one of the things that attracted him in the first place. he nods, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. "whatever you say, love."

"where did your girl go?" emma asks the second pepe slumps into a free seat by the cafeteria table.

your boyfriend shoots a glance over his shoulder back to the serving line before setting his plate down. "they were out of rice so she's just waiting for a new batch," he says with a shrug.

"okay then, let's be quick before she gets here," emma speaks up again. "what are we doing for her birthday? it's just a few days away, but i think we can pull something off."

"me and seb were talking about throwing her a surprise party," nora says, looking over at sebastian who's nodding excitedly.

pepe, however, lets out a dismissive sound and swats the air with his hand. "no, forget about that," he says, stuffing a spoonful of pasta into his mouth. "she doesn't want any of that."

nora snorts. "what? of course she does."

"you know, pepe," emma counters, eyebrows raised at the spaniard. "every girl will tell you that she doesn't want a surprise party. don't bother, i don't care, you don't have to do all that for me! but in reality, we're all secretly craving it."

pepe considers her words for a few moments; maybe there is some truth in them after all. maybe all you did was try to act modest, to put the idea in his head so he would make the right choice.

but you weren't the one to bring up the subject – he was. he remembers clearly how you were doing your very best to avoid talking about your birthday at all, and the memory of how tough of a subject it seemed like to you is still etched into his mind. he thinks you were so brave to confide in him like that, and so he needs to stand up for you. he can't dishonor your trust.

"trust me, guys. she really doesn't want it." he ignores the groans of the people around him, taking a few sips of his water before continuing. "can't we all just grab some dinner on saturday instead? maybe that new indian place?"

"works for me," christian joins in. "how about presents, then?"

"right, are we all buying something together, or separate gifts?" emma fills in.

pepe shakes his head yet again. "i don't think she wants that, either." his words are followed by a long silence, which makes him unable to hold back a chuckle. "just paying for the food should be enough."

nora sighs dramatically, the palms of her hands pressing into the sides of her face. "and i'm supposed to just trust you, huh?" she asks and pepe merely shrugs, focusing back on his food. "hope you're not messing with us here, marti."

"i have no idea what he said, but he usually is," your voice spreads through the group as you finally take a seat at the table. "fill me in and i'll help you decide if he's just being annoying."

"i was just telling them about what mr. peterson said yesterday," pepe says quickly. "about what he'll do to everyone who fails the exam."

you throw your head back laughing, nodding instantly. "oh my god, that was hilarious. so, it started with someone on the front row asking about..."

pepe loves birthdays. his own, too, but mostly he finds himself looking forward to his friends' birthdays and longing to celebrate the important people in his life. he loves picking out gifts, planning celebrations, and making sure everything is perfect. it just comes naturally for him to be caring and detailed in that way.

but while pepe eagerly awaits your birthday, you couldn't even come close to feeling the same way.

most years, you spend the weeks leading up to your birthday dreading it, and the day of your birthday crying, because your birthday reminds you of everything you try to forget year-round.

pepe wants to make the day perfect for you, but he also obviously doesn't want to do too much. it's a hard task, but he's set on making it work – and the first step is getting a cake.

his first thought was to get you something huge, something to properly convey what he thinks you deserve and how much he loves you. though, it didn't take long for him to realize that something like that would be way too much for you. instead, he settled on a more basic yellow cake with some kind of white coating that the lady in the bakery recommended to him, and dropped by the grocery store near campus to buy sprinkles and a bunch of candles.

the end product is a little messy, but created with so much love, and pepe knows you're going to adore it. what he doesn't know is how he managed to keep you away from his refrigerator and the surprise hiding in it all night yesterday, but it doesn't matter – all that matters is that you're currently still sleeping soundlessly in his bed, with no clue of what's going on over in the kitchen.

pepe's hands are trembling slightly as he lights up the candles; he is a little nervous, he will admit, but he's also excited at the same time. he can't wait to see the look of surprise on your face, so he hurries up and places the cake on a tray along with two cups of coffee.

he silently curses at the way his bedroom door creaks when he pushes it open with his foot, but thankfully you don't move a single muscle. he carefully scoots over to the side of the bed, sitting down next to you and balancing the tray in his lap. he reaches over with one hand to your cheek, thumb tracing along your skin, fingers settling under your jaw. "mi amor," he whispers, a soft hum leaving his lips as he watches your eyelids slowly flutter open. "happy birthday."

it takes a few moments for your eyes to adjust to the sunshine lighting up the room, but when they do, they can't help but focus on him. the goofy grin on his lips, the messy hair, the-

the cake on his lap.

you push yourself up to sit in bed, rubbing some sleep out of your eyes. you're mistaken, surely? you're still half-asleep, you must've imagined it...

but no amount of blinking makes the cake disappear. the little flames of the candles swaying in the air, the single drop of stearic rolling down the side of a candle, the rainbow sprinkles sticking to the top and sides of the cake – it's all very real.

pepe was so sure this was the right way to go. but seeing the tears begin to seep out of the corners of his eyes makes him horrified. he messed up.

he knew the sprinkles would be too much. and that amount of candles, what was he thinking? he definitely went overboard.

"oh my god," he says, instantly placing the tray on the bedside table before scooting closer to you. "i'm so so so sorry, i thought you would like it... i don't know what i was thinking. here, let me-"

you shake your head as he begins brushing away your tears with his thumbs, and to his big surprise, you chuckle. "don't be sorry," you say, letting out another laugh when you see the confused expression on his face. "i do like it. a lot." you reach up to take his hands in yours, bringing them down to the bed and intertwining your fingers. "it's just... very emotional, for me. as you can see."

he also chuckles now, and he thinks he understands – even though seeing your happy tears is more painful than he'd expected. "okay," he says with a nod. "so..." his eyes flicker back to the cake.

"yes, please. i mean, what could be better than a sugar rush first thing in the morning?"

pepe would've been so happy to shower you with presents to express how much he loves you; it would've made him so proud to invite all your friends to a big celebration, to show you how much you mean to all of them, to change your idea of a birthday. but this – sitting together in bed, eating straight from the cake (no plates needed), pressing sugary kisses to each other's cheeks – is another form of perfect.

he just hopes you think it's perfect, too.

hearing you tell the stories of how you needed to bake the cake for yourself if you wanted one as a child, how you always made sure to buy yourself a gift because the risk that no one else would get you one was too high, and how you always needed to plan out your own parties breaks his heart – but hearing you open up like that also means the world to him. he understands that it's all buried so deep inside of you, but there's nothing he wants more than to help you heal and to prove that you can have much better and bigger birthdays than that.

but for now, a little cake in bed and a ton of kisses will have to do.

baby steps.

"chris, will you pass me the chicken korma?"

he leans over the crowded couch table and holds out the takeaway box to nora, who takes it into her hands and thanks him. "that one is really good," you tell her through your mouthful of bread, nodding to your friend.

"what's the verdict, then?" sebastian asks from his seat over on the couch. "i need a rating from the birthday girl, one to ten."

"food? ten," you say, taking a sip of your soda. "company? ten."

birthday? eleven.

the whole day has been much better than you'd expected; from your wake-up this morning, to the lunch date you shared with pepe over in town after a cute walk along the river, to having your closest friends all gathered in your living room for you. you don't even mind the way your buttcheeks are already starting to hurt after sitting on the floor for too long – you knew you should've invested in more seating for moments like these – because all of this is worth it.

"agreed," pepe chimes in from next to you. "especially about the food."

"speaking of which," says emma. "was there any bread left?"

you're quick to jump to your feet, already turning towards the kitchen. "garlic or plain?"

"ooh, garlic! thank you!"

pepe hurries off the floor right after you, making up some excuse about getting a new spoon for one of the sauces, but no one even bats an eye. you hear him enter through the door, and you smile instinctively. "how are you feeling?" he asks when he reaches your side, hand finding the small of your back as you rummage through the takeaway bag. "is this all enough?"

"it's more than enough. so much more." after pulling out the garlic naan from the bag, you reach up to the side of his face with your free hand, brushing your thumb over his cheekbone. "best birthday ever."

you seal your words with a feather-light kiss to his lips, and he's still smiling when you pull away. "you promise?" he asks, eyes searching through yours for any slightest hint of insincerity or uncertainty.

"i promise." another kiss, followed by a gentle hum, and he visibly relaxes. "thank you."

"no, thank you." for opening up, for letting him do all this for you. for existing. "only happy birthdays from now on, okay? i will make sure of it."

"it could never be anything other than a happy birthday with you around."

221 notes · View notes

acid-ixx · 1 month ago

Text

last night, i just had a terrible nightmare where someone sent in a really long ask that was straight up hating and criticizing every part of my writing. calling out the insecurities/faults, plot inconsistencies, and insulting my writing style—

which i admit: yeah, it's wordy and really long, sometimes i focus too much on one scene or on the emotions solely, and i focus on every single detail; i'm a very emotional and hypersensitive person who likes to overanalyze on the scenes and characters. i acknowledge that it's unconventional and unprofessional at times; but it's what makes me happy and it's up to readers to continue reading or not despite the length. it's my own writing, i write content for free and everything i post are indulgent on my part, hence why i explicitly state i don't really wish for constructive criticism since again, it's all for free and it's all done for fun.

though, in that dream, it came to the point where the ask straight up told me i should just quit writing, that whatever i'm writing for is utter trash (overrated, it says. there are better writers out there and, yeah, i agree. i've the passion and drive but not so much for talent) and not worth the effort to read. so i did what was told and deactivated my account and went on to never write anymore fanfics after just how shaken up i was, then i woke up HAHAHAH.

and it genuinely felt so real, ngl. i couldn't get it off of my mind even until now, so here i am rambling about it. sorry if anyone expected me to post a drabble, or a fanfic; but right now i need more time to ponder upon whether or not i should change my writing style 'cause chapter five pt 2 will be posted soon but it's longer and who knows? maybe my worst nightmare may come true if i post it and it's subpar, not up to expectation.

and if people don't really wish for something long that borders on boring or filler scenes, then maybe, maybe not i will change how i write (but i probably won't lmao). either way, i have to remind myself that i am writing for myself, and posting it to simply archive in this account. i just hope people won't be as cruel as that mystery person in my dreams if i ever do

it's genuinely the audience's choice to read my works or not if the length or style bothers them. and as entitled as i may sound, i wish to remind some that writing a chapter with more than 10k words is my choice, and it's an arduous process too that takes hours of my time. writing fanfics is for me is purely indulgent and are reflections of my real life experiences, if it's lengthy, then yes i chose it to be, but it's not like i'm writing a thesis or an essay, i'm writing a goddamn fanfic with stereotypical tropes (most especially yandere) because it what makes me enjoy my passion as an author.

i apologize again for the long ramble, i really just need this out of my thoughts. this is my own blog too so yeah 😭. if you guys follow me solely for my fanfics, then filter out the "🍨... yael's talking" tag if you wish to avoid these types of talks.

#🍨... yael's talking #my nightmares always have to target my deepest insecurities huh 😭#it's funny tho like #i'm just a guy who uses this blog. can my mind just leave me to rest 😭#apologies for all the pending asks too #im avoiding my inbox cause im chickening out

84 notes · View notes

bella-rose29 · 1 month ago

Text

Deck the Halls (and not your partner) ~ Christmas Special

utterly insane that I'm able to write this??? DTH has gained so much love and it was literally just a very self-indulgent crappy christmas romcom I wrote for myself, so to everyone who has come this far with me: thank you!!!

so merry christmas everyone! this is my present to you all 💕

word count: 1.2k

warnings: a couple of swear words

deck the halls series master list

(not my gif but I cannot remember who's it is sorry)

“Lockwood, really?”

“What? It’s Christmas!” You wish you could stop yourself from smiling, but your boyfriend’s optimism and love for the holidays is infectious. He looks completely ridiculous but then again that’s Lockwood, through and through.

“You cannot wear that.”

“Why not?” he retorts, and you sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. He’s got a shit-eating grin on his face and his hands on his hips, and the stupid Christmas jumper that your mum knit him covering his torso. “Your mum will be so upset if I don’t, especially when I already told her on the phone this morning that I would wear it.”

“How often do you speak to my mother, Ant? I swear you spoke to her last night as well.”

“Emma and I are practically best friends at this point,” he says as he moves to the oven. You’d been sceptical about letting him help cook lunch for your parents, but he could at least use a peeler for the vegetables without hurting anyone.

“George might have something to say about that. Are the potatoes done?” You ask from the sink, watching him peer through the door.

“Nearly. They’re looking great.” Lockwood straightens and comes to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing a kiss to your temple. “Just like me in this jumper.” You scoff, feeling his grin against the back of your head, and flick some soap suds at him. The jumper in question is the most horrific colour of green (you have no idea where your mother got it from and you don’t want to know), with pompoms and little lights covering it to such an extent you can’t really see the badly knitted reindeer that takes up the majority of the garment. “I’m not taking it off, darling,” he hums as he dips his head to rest in the crook of your neck.

It’s these moments that make you think Christmas is worth all the stress. You’d decided that after the complete mess of last year (although there were some pros to the whole thing, such as Steph and Linda refusing to speak to any of you again), you would stay home in London while your parents, Will and Olivia came down to see you. Nana Jean and Gramps’ knees were getting worse and couldn’t make the journey so your other siblings had stayed behind to keep them company, but you’d called them all earlier to wish them a happy holiday. “Well if you have to keep it on to win points with mum, then can you make yourself useful and get the table ready.”

“Anything for you, Schmoopie.” He still uses the ridiculous nickname, and it still makes you smile. He’s spent every day since you got home last year making sure that you feel as loved as possible, in every way he can, and Lucy regularly takes the piss out of both of you for it.

“How’s my kitchen? You haven’t burnt it down yet have you?” You glance over your shoulder as you dry your hands, the washing up finished, and spot a head of messy curls.

“Hi Georgie! I haven’t let him near the oven, don’t worry.”

“Oh thank fuck.”

Anthony looks up from where he’s drawing something on the table (bastard, you’d told him to set it up) and mutters “language” at George, earning himself a middle finger. Your boyfriend only laughs and goes back to drawing, covering it with his hand when he notices you trying to see what it is. You don’t have time to make him show you though, because just as you step towards him the doorbell rings.

“Shit, they’re here. George, are you sure you don’t mind being around them?” It’s only the three of you in the house, Lucy and Holly off with their loved ones while George had decided against spending Christmas with his family.

“I’ve spoken to your family multiple times, Y/n, I think I’ll be fine.” His tone is as matter-of-fact as always, but you don’t miss the tiny smile he gives you. You smile back, then let out a slow breath as you make for the front door. The latch is on and your fingers tremble slightly as you open it, nerves and excitement setting in now that your family is just on the other side.

You’ve barely opened the door enough to show your face when someone is barrelling through and wrapping you in a hug, and instantly you relax into your mother’s arms. “Hi, mum. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas! Oh, it’s been far too long, hasn’t it?”

Over her shoulder (she hasn’t let go yet) you spot Will mouthing sorry and your sister rolling her eyes. There’s a smile on both of their faces though, and when your dad appears after locking the car he’s grinning too. “Hi, love.”

“Hi dad,” you chirp, your mum finally letting go of you. The three of them fight to be the next to hug you while your mum pulls their bags inside, greeting Anthony behind you with a happy shriek when she notices the jumper as he appears from the kitchen, and your dad comes out victorious. Will and Olivia bicker in the background over who’s going last, and when you finish with your dad you drag both your siblings into a hug. “No fighting,” you say, pulling back so you can stare them down. “I don’t want any extra stress, okay?”

“Alright, Squeak. We’ll behave.” The shit-eating grin on his face says otherwise, but before you can say anything else there’s a flurry of excitement from your mother and boyfriend. Presents are shoved under the tree that you and Holly had spent far too much time decorating (she’s the only one in the house you would let near it; the other three were too messy), George awkwardly waves to everyone, and then the oven timer is beeping and telling you to take things out.

“Okay, lunch is nearly ready, so - Ant, could you-? Thanks,” you half shout as you rush into the kitchen, George hot on your heels ready to help. Anthony has at least laid the table in the time you were greeting family, and there’s enough room for the dishes you’d been cooking all morning. The two of you work fluidly, twisting around each other with practiced ease (George refuses to let anyone else cook in here but you, a privilege you hadn’t taken for granted) until the table is covered in hot food and serving implements and you’re yelling for people to come and sit down.

Without thinking you take your usual seat, plopping down with a sigh and smiling when Anthony presses a kiss to the top of your head before sitting next to you. “Proud of you, darling. This looks amazing,” he murmurs with a small smile.

“You’ve outdone yourself, love,” your dad says, squishing in on one of the extra chairs you’d had to drag in from the basement.

“Thanks dad,” you smile. “Oh, tuck in, guys. Before it gets cold!”

You decide you’ll wait until everyone else has served themselves, and as you look down at your currently empty plate you notice a new drawing poking out from under it. Anthony must have done it earlier when he was meant to be doing a job and curiosity gets the better of you, making you push your plate just a little so you can see the whole picture.

It’s the two of you in your current outfits (he somehow managed to draw his jumper), holding hands and smiling. He’s written Merry Christmas, darling above it, and even though his artistic skills have not improved, it’s one of your favourite pieces. You tap his leg to get his attention, and after looking gently concerned for a moment he sees that you’ve uncovered his drawing and smiles.

“You alright?”

“I’m alright, Ant. Merry Christmas.”

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood x reader #george karim #lucy carlyle #holly munro #deck the halls (and not your partner)

74 notes · View notes

zerobaselove · 6 months ago

Text

tell me about it | park gunwook

pairing: gunwook x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 792

warnings: none! lowercase intended, not proofread literally At All this is just self indulgent

notes: i started playing a new game today and then decided to write this idk this is so messy and just my thoughts on paper (on a screen? idk) sorry this sucks i needed to let the delusions out

"i'm home!" you heard gunwook call out from the front door, his footsteps approaching your shared bedroom where you sat. it was a rare day off for you, with absolutely no chores or errands to run, you had the day completely to yourself while gunwook went to work. and it was glorious.

"wook! i finally bought that game i was telling you about!" you enthused, hands still gripping the controller as you peeled your eyes from the tv. gunwook wrapped an arm around your shoulder, placing a kiss on your temple before glancing to the tv. "so?" he smiled, "is it everything you hoped it would be? tell me all about it!"

that was one of the things you loved most about your boyfriend; he always wanted to hear about your interests, and actually listened to your useless info dumps. he would even do the same with his interests, and you loved it. watching him go on and on about the new game he was interested in or the new show he had been binging was the highlight of your days. you loved watching his face light up as he talked about a character he enjoyed or a cool plot twist.

and he always returned the joy when it was your turn to ramble on. and ramble on you did.

you gave him a full rundown of the plot so far, recounting the boss fights in great detail, even talking about the techniques you had to use to target their weaknesses or the close calls with death you had encountered during the fights.

"and there's this really cute little cat character! not that that's important really but it definitely adds some bonus points!" you beamed, causing the boy to laugh and ruffle your hair lightly from where he sat beside you on the bed.

"so wait," he started, "you had to fight the robot midair?"

"yeah! it was crazy wook i wish you could've seen the fight! it was so cool!"

he leaned back against the headboard, patting the space between his legs. a silent invitation to sit with him. how could you say no?

you crawled over to his side of the bed, settling in between his legs, his chest becoming your own personal backrest as his arms snaked around your waist. you could feel his fingers playing with the hem of your shirt, the action nearly consuming all your thoughts.

"keep playing! i wanna see!" he smiled wide, excited to indulge in this new interest with you and see what had you so absorbed all day while he was gone at work.

you hummed in content before unpausing the game, the loud ost blasting through the tv speakers once again as you adjusted your grip on the controller, picking up right where you left off.

you caught him up on the last few minutes of gameplay before he walked in, rambling on about what you think might happen next as you turned the corner of the next big area to explore.

the two of you sat like that for an hour before you decided to turn the game off at the checkpoint you had hit. despite the game no longer displaying on the screen and the soundtrack no longer blaring in the room, the two of you were rather hesitant to move. but who could blame you?

"i think i might have to try playing that game," gunwook smiled down at you, his hands playing with the rings on your fingers, the controller lost in the messy bedsheets.

you turned to face the boy, "really?" you smiled, "you totally should!" you trailed off, your eyes fully taking in the boy for the first time that night, "not right now though," your voice was merely a whisper, "want you all to myself now."

he couldn't help but giggle at your sweet words, pressing a kiss to your cheek before tilting your head ever so slightly towards him, placing another kiss on your lips. "don't worry, i plan on staying like this for now."

your cheeks heated up at the subtle intimacy, causing the boy's cheeks flush a similar shade of pink, leaving the both of you in a fit of shy giggles as you competed for who could pepper more kisses along each others warm skin.

"i love you," you whispered against his plush lips, feeling them smile against your own.

"more than the game?" he joked, causing you to crack an even bigger smile, "know your place park gunwook!" you teased, causing the boy to lean back, an overexaggerated pout on his lips.

"i'm kidding!" you laughed, "i love you" you placed a kiss on his lips between every word of the confession, "more than anything else in this world."

#zerobaseone #zerobaseonefics #boys planet #boys planet fics #boys planet imagines #boys planet reactions #kpop #boys planet drabbles #zb1 #zb1 x reader #zb1 imagines #park gunwook imagines

117 notes · View notes

ilovelyneysm07 · 6 months ago

Text

Shooting Stars - SAGAU!Lyney x Player Part 2

Summary: Shooting Stars were always a weird occurrence in the world of Teyvat, so when they suddenly stop, certain magician can't help but wonder if it has to do with the strange aching in his chest.

CW: Self Aware AU, NOT Cult AU or Creator AU, Angsty, the Reader is referred as Player, Based on my own Genshin Account, Pretty Self-Indulgent, GN!Player, Cross-posted on AO3, English is not my first language and I'm not an experienced writer

A/N: Heyy, I'm so sorry for the long wait! My hyperfixation on Genshin just died when I got Lyney and I didn't have the motivation to continue this, but I finally got myself to write this. Also, I'm really sorry if this is bad, I got sick last week and I'm getting out of it rn.

Taglist: @crazed-flower @yurislilygarden @yurislotusgarden

The day is finally here, after five months of arduous saving and skipping characters (it was hard), Lyney's first rerun finally sees the light of day. The Player, who’s been waiting patiently for the maintenance to end, opens the game as fast as they could, feeling their heart beat in their throat.

Three hundred and twenty seven wishes. All for that magician they love so much. Oh, how much they regret being inactive from the game when his banner came out. They can only wish that they get him now… and his weapon if they’re lucky enough.

It’s kind of funny how they had to contain themselves from pulling for anyone else (except for Furina, they only pulled because she looked pretty at the moment), it didn't matter if all the new characters powercrept Lyney or if they were better in terms of DPS, for the Player, he was everything they needed, everything they wanted. They just wanted that cat-themed magician in their party and their account.

Seeing the Geo logo finally load, they rush to finish their dailies and change their team to the duo, Freminet and Lynette, and rush towards the Opera Epiclese. It felt like a dream, but the way they felt the keyboard under their fingers told them otherwise. This is pretty much real.

After reaching the designated “wishing spot”, they opened the wishing menu, seeing his splash art alongside the chosen four stars, happy that they can at least get constellations for them. The Player took a deep breath and pressed the “10 pull” button.

—

Lyney was looking at the ceiling in his room, the ache in his chest suddenly feeling harder… painfully so. He sat down in his bed, feeling how the sheets moved due to his weight. The magician sighed, running his hand through his ashy blonde hair while his head was strangely silent, no thoughts, nothing.

After a failed investigation into the phenomenon of strange falling stars, Lyney was beyond desperate, no one seemed familiar with the ache the magician felt in his chest, even some people looked at him weird, like he was crazy.

Why is it only with him?

Lyney's gaze returned to the ceiling, the zero hope he felt about a possible explanation seemed to fade with each passing second. Was it only his imagination? Was he going insane? It's been five months since those shooting stars last fell, maybe it's time to-

*WAM*

Lyney stood up immediately at the sudden sound that came from outside, quickly dressing up (somehow) and grabbing his bow, he walked outside to see what’s going on and-

The shooting stars were back. The colors returned to the sky and made it pretty again, a purple star falling directly in the Opera Epiclese as he looked in awe. The pain in his chest was getting even more heavy, but he ignored it, lost in the colors of those shooting stars.

Thinking it was over when the purple star fell, another wave came right after, and then another, and another. And another. It became a full shooting star shower, that never happened before

It’s been at least eight or more purple stars when a golden one falls. Its shine lit up all of Fontaine, as the people exited their houses to see the show happening in the blanket of the night. Lyney looked at the golden star with anticipation, while it became bigger and bigger as it fell closer.

Only for it to continue falling towards… Sumeru?

—

The Player stares at their screen in disbelief.

Reached 79 pity only to lose it to Dehya… They sigh in frustration while closing the results of the pull, they still have a lot of wishes left, and now with a guarantee, it will be a lot easier… right?

They sigh again as their friend laughs at their misery on the discord call, deciding to continue the wishing session.

“He will come home, whether he likes it or not…” they mutter to themselves, already feeling pissed off.

—

Lyney thought the shooting stars were over until even more fell from the sky, this time more… fast, than before. Like they were in a rush.

He looked at the purple ones as some fall in the Opera Epiclese and the others go all the way to what appears to be Liyue.

He was starting to get anxious as he then became aware of the pain in his chest again. He felt a pull, like someone was calling for something, calling for him.

And suddenly, another golden star fell from the sky. And instead of going to Sumeru, it was falling dangerously close to him.

Wait, was it falling towards him?!

His body stayed frozen in place as the star fell on him. A golden aura engulfed his entire body and his feet felt light, and… a strange voice appeared on his head.

“Fucking finally, dude. You took your sweet ass time.”

That… was new.

He opened his eyes when the light disappeared, and he found Lynette and Freminet looking at him with a smile. Lyney then realized he was in the Opera Epiclese.

“Wha- how did I-” Lyney muttered, confused at the sudden change in scenery.

“Welcome home, brother. We’ve been waiting for you.” Lynette said with a small smile, the purple aura around her not going unnoticed for Lyney.

“Home? What are you talking about? What is going on?” To say the magician was confused was an understatement. He was beyond lost.

“Uhm, it’s hard to explain but… you’ll understand sooner or later.” Freminet said with a nervous smile and he had Pers in his hands, the little penguin making sounds of joy.

Lyney didn’t know how to react to the confusing sentences his siblings were saying. Or why the world looked so different, so 3D… so- fake. Has the world always looked like that? And what are those numbers in his siblings' heads? Level 40 and Level 80? What in the world does that mean?

“He looks so confused… Do you think he’ll be okay?” Freminet whispered towards Lynette, who was pretty worried for her brother.

“I don’t know… he doesn’t seem to be taking it well.” she says back, and she hears the sounds from the player in her head.

“Aquila Favonia?! Are you serious?! I already have it R2- This banner fucking sucks!”

They must be pulling for Lyney’s weapon, it seems, and it also seems that they’re not doing so well. Lynette sighed when she noticed Lyney’s bewildered expression at the loud voice, before putting a hand on Lyney's shoulder.

“Listen, things might look a little confusing right now, but everything will be okay. The Player is someone really caring and nice, and they really like you.” Lynette says with a calm tone, but also a lot of reassurance. “Why did you think there were no shooting stars in five months? Because they wanted you.”

Lyney looked at her in shock, still processing everything. This.. “Player”, as Lynette called them, was the one behind the shooting stars apparently, and they… wanted him? Really-

“I hate this game, I’m never saving up for another character ever again. Fuck you, Lyney.”

Oh.

“They’re always like this, don’t pay them any mind.” Lynette says with a small frown before sighing again. “It seems their wishing session is over, you should feel some changes in a bit.”

“What changes-”

Before Lyney could process anything, the world around him changed again, the walls (or what he assumed were walls) around him became red, with some fire coming out of the floor, where did Lynette and Freminet go?!

Before he could feel even more confused, he saw them… a person was looking at him and pressing some buttons on what appears to be a… keyboard of sorts.

“If it didn’t take me more than 200 wishes to get you, I’d be happier.” they say with a serious expression but a tired smile slowly creeps in, and he feels himself getting stronger… somehow.

What is this person? And why does he feel so strange when he looks at them?

Even with their tired expression and dark room, he could see affection in their eyes. Affection for him. He remembers Lynette’s words about this “Player” liking him and wanting him for a long time. Was this person the so-called “Player” Lynette was talking about?

If so, then he might consider himself lucky to be favored by this really pretty Player.

“Yeah, I have everything ready to just Level him up and his weapon straight to 90, it did take me a while to get all of the Rainbow Roses though…” they say practically to no one in Lyney’s point of view. Were they not alone in that dark room? Or were they talking to someone via real magic?

Wait, Rainbow Roses? For him?!

Were they collecting Rainbow Roses for him?

The more he thought about it, the more flustered he felt. This person was collecting Rainbow Roses and… materials (he doesn’t know what that means) for him. For this moment alone.

“Hey, is it normal for Lyney to have this idle animation?” they asked when Lyney suddenly grabbed his hat to cover his face a little. He could hear them laugh a little. “That’s so cute, though! Look at him!”

Oh God.

—

[Little Extra]

“I still have a few wishes left, might as well get Lynette C6 since I’m at it.” Lyney hears them while fighting some Hilichurls alongside other people, Kaedehara Kazuha, a wanderer from Inazuma, Bennett, an adventurer from Mondstadt and, surprisingly, Miss Furina. What a strange bunch, Lyney thought.

While the Player made their sudden wishing session, Lyney sat down on a nearby rock. It’s been 30 minutes since he’s been pulled into this weird situation and he’s still processing everything. Heck, it feels even weirder to be in the same “party” as the former Hydro Archon. Was this even allowed? He's not sure himself, but he’ll just go along with everything this strange person does for the time being, Freminet and Lynette seem to trust them, so he might as well give it a shot-

“What the fuck?!” Lyney was startled when the Player suddenly screamed, he looked up and saw a sudden golden star fall on him.

He felt a burning pain in his right arm, he pulled up his sleeve to see a strange pattern in his skin. C1? What does that mean?

He remembers hearing the Player say something about “Lynette’s C6”, but he has no idea what any of that even means.

“Constellation.” He hears Kazuha say by his side, a calm expression on his face. “It means Constellation. When the Player gets lucky and the stars fall on one of us again, our “Constellation” increases. C6 being the highest.” Kazuha explains, although it’s just what he heard. “For example, me and Miss Furina are C0 since the shooting star only fell on us once. Bennett over there is C4 since the shooting star fell on him 5 times.”

“I see…” Lyney says with a smile. “Well thank you-”

“No fucking way!” he gets startled again by the scream. And before he could react, another golden star falls on him, and the pattern changes to C2.

Kazuha looks at him with a smile. “Wow, signature weapon, C2… you really are the Player’s favorite!”

Lyney just laughs, his cheeks a bit red. “Oh come on, they don’t love me that much-”

“I love you so much, Lyney! I’m so sorry I said otherwise!” Lyney gets even more flustered at that, making Kazuha laugh even more.

This was certainly a weird experience, but… it felt good.

#genshin lyney #genshin #lyney #genshin impact lyney #genshin impact sagau #lyney x reader #self aware genshin #sagau x reader #sagau #genshin sagau #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic

140 notes · View notes