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obeymeluv · 3 years

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“I Got All A’s! Can I Have Some Dick?” (Bros + Undateables)

Just something stupid and funny I thought about. You had a very tough semester in the Devildom and you got good grades! You want to celebrate and go to your favorite demon to ask for a special reward.

Obvious NSFW warning. No minors allowed!

No Luke. Luke is baby.

I have a personal headcanon that Simeon likes to be totally cozy when he writes. We’re talking big fluffy sweaters or a blanket cozy. I like to think he wears glasses when he writes, too.

Lucifer

He’s part of a special committee who’s notified about your grades/progress so he actually knows before you do

Proud boyfriend is proud

Purrs when he opens up the wax-pressed envelope and reviews your marks

Secretly plans a cute, fancy dinner date at Ristorante Six

Is thinking of being suave and breaking the news to you when you bounce into his study (he may or may not have poured a couple of glasses of your favorite age-appropriate beverage)

He’s got something witty prepped and is ready to toast you and maybe steal a few kisses but you come out of left field like a bullet with a simple “I got all A’s! Can I have some dick?”

Lucifer.exe is broken

That’s what you want as a reward? No dinner, no date?

Literally doesn’t know what to say for a few seconds. Totally freezes. Starts to stutter.

His brain kicks back in when you start playing with the folds of his collar and petting his chest and staring at him with those wanting eyes

Sets his glass down, fixes the cuff of his gloves, and hoists you up to plant you on the nearest surface. “I will make it worth every point, and you will say all the letters.” he purrs.

Mammon

He’s just happy he passed.

Mammon actually does pretty well, he’s just a very...chaotically successful type. A lot of last minute turn-ins and such. Not top marks, but no dunce either.

Now that the semester’s over he’s checking his schedule to see when the next shoot is or if he has time to squeeze in a party. Maybe a trip somewhere. Something fun!

He’s feeling lucky! Lucky enough to win some money and make Goldie happy!

If he’s going anywhere, he needs a good luck charm though! He goes to hunt you down and his stomach just warms because you’re smiling and clearly in a good mood

It makes him purr in that cute, curious little way. Basically using the demon’s language to ask you why you’re in such a good mood (but you don’t know that. It’s basically a cute chirp).

You both shout your good news at the same time.

His invite to go tear it up was a bit long so it takes a minute for his brain to process what you said. You want...his dick?

Boy wants to blush SO BAD. HE’S SO RED!

Well now his thing seems stupid, doesn’t it? He wants to do your thing! Your thing sounds GREAT!

“OF COURSE you want to be with the GREAT Mammon!” he’s got his hands on his hips and his chest is puffed out big in that happy, silly way he has about him.

No, really, you do your thing. It’s a great thing.

It’s a good way to unwind from exams, right? He likes it!

Levi

If Levi didn’t get good grades, Lucifer would kill him.

Probably force him to go to school physically ALL THE TIME!

HIS SUBSCRIPTIONS WOULD BE AT RISK,OKAY?

He’s a solid B student (at least). No desire to be all A’s. Too much time away from other passions.

Because he’s well-behaved and leas likely to get on Lucifer’s nerves, he gets a little bit of bonus money for good grades.

Levi’s neck-deep in his charts and comparisons and muttering to himself about where to invest that money when you pop into his room

“I got all A’s! Can I have some dick?!”

You get The Noise

How indecent! How naughty of you to ask! But yes, yes you can. Absolutely. 100%!

He’s really shy about it because it’s sudden and you asked him instead of him having a cool moment or anything, but it ends up being a giggle-filled romp that ends with a cuddle in his bathtub bed and you wrapped up in his tail

He totally suggests a round two with a sexy VR game or just making bets with ‘winner take all’

Satan

He’s a grade juggernaut with lots of self-discipline so Satan expects to get out what he gets in

The type to be smug because he knows he did well. He owes it to himself and he’s glad.

Likes to treat himself to an outing, be it a simple walk or a visit to a cafe or even a new book

Satan’s 100% ready to settle down with some books by the fireplace. At the end of the semester he typically makes a one or two-portion charcuterie board and picks at it while he reads

Thumb keeping his place, Satan’s in the middle of stacking a fancy little cracker with meat and cheese when you let yourself in

His eyes flick to you and he smiles, eating his little cracker

You pick at his tray with him (he’ll let you, of course). “I got all A’s! Can I have some dick?”

Chokes on cracker. It’s not a good time

Almost drowns himself/further chokes trying to wash it down with drink

Can’t help but laugh at your...bold request

When he sees he’s kind of sputtered all over himself, he slips out of his clothes and makes a few witty jokes as your ‘naked butler’

Naked butler happily provides his services

Later he makes you picked crushed cracker off the floor with him

Asmo

The second Asmo knew he passed everything (like he always does. Just because he’s pretty doesn’t mean he’s stupid!), he booked himself a full day pampering experience

His inner circle of beauty specialist know his routine so they save his spots for him

Asmo sweet-talked them into including his favorite human and he’s DYING to tell you and DYING to make his brothers jealous

You skip into his room, so bright and lovely, and hold his hands in the cute excited way he likes. Makes his heart skip a beat every time like it’s young love.

“I got all A’s! Can I have some dick?”

Doesn’t expect it and has probably never been asked ‘Can I have some dick?’ in the thousands of years he’s been alive

Boy gives an airy laugh because he’s surprised and flattered. Of COURSE you want him (because who wouldn’t?) but he always gets a bit shy when it’s YOU asking

“Sounds amazing,” he’s already peppering you with kisses, “and I’m happy to provide but can we do it after our special spa day?”

You guys have a sweet, lazy round the day of the booking to ‘loosen up’ and ‘fully appreciate the services’ and he DEFINITELY worships you when all is said and done because ‘the epitome of beauty deserve the epitome of devotion’

Beel

Boy works hard and celebrates even harder. Usually with food

Because he’s always hungry and looking forward to eating, Beel likes to do his work ahead of time. The sooner he does it, the more time he has to eat!

He has to keep up good grades to stay on the sports teams, anyways

Solid B student, sometimes A’s. C’s and below aren’t a thing. He refuses.

Because he is also best boy and generally acts as Lucifer’s pseudo-enforcer, he also gets some bonus money.

The coach of his local sports team also pitches in because Beel is best boy and a TANK. He could literally carry the whole team

Beel’s all set to hit the town with his food money when find him and wrap your arms around him

He’s all excited and ready to tell you about the food money when you make his face catch fire. “I got all A’s! Can I have some dick?”

Brain also stops. BEEL IS SO EMBARRASSED!

You’d rather have him than food? That’s pretty impressive! He’s honored!

But...what if you could have both? He’s totally down for both!

You celebrate your success by staying in (bed) and spoiling yourselves with food in-between rounds

Belphie

Belphie is a ‘C’s get degrees’ kind of guy but C’s are his minimum. Tries for B’s and usually gets mid-to-low B’s.

With exams over he’s 100% down to sleep the day away and there’s NO REASON for ANYONE TO BUG HIM ABOUT IT!

Totally prepared to live in his finest pyjamas until school starts again. Might even treat himself to a new pillow or blanket!

If he hadn’t learned your scent by now, you wouldn’t have a face when you breach his blanket cocoon

Belphie just snorts and smiles at your little face and messy hair (the blankets give it static and mess it up)

You kiss his nose and wait to make sure he’s really awake before sharing the good news. “I got all A’s! Can I have some dick?”

Laughs himself to the point of almost choking on one of his blankets

Throws himself out of the cocoon to breathe and wipe his tears away

But yes, yes you can. After he calms down, he pulls you onto his lap to straddle him.

It’s fun and lazy but a genuine celebration of the end of the semester

Diavolo

He’s the other part of the committee that saw your grades, so he knows

It’s a bit off his plate so he won’t have as many duties to attend to

Diavolo wasn’t sure when you’d come over, but Barbatos assured him you’d be over that day. He did his best to speed through his meetings and arrange his schedule to have a rest period

He asked Barbatos to prepare a small, modest lunch of finger foods and some complimentary tea

You may have thought Diavolo was making himself a plate when you walked in, but it was actually a plate for you

The prince of the Devildom almost dropped that plate when you said, “I got all A’s! Can I have some dick?”

Prince of Hell is super blushy and flustered and awkward and almost knocks his teacup off the table. Is suddenly scrambling to make sure he doesn’t know anything else off the table

Tries to compose himself but can’t help the boyish smile and laugh that escapes him

You’re just such a lovely, fascinating person! He’s so happy to have you. His life seems eternal but you make it so fresh and new! His heart just bursts with love and delight.

Is no longer worried about the food or pushing in your chair for you. Offers his lap instead. “I have an opening for that,” he assures, pulling you onto his lap.

Diavolo likes to think he’s thoughtful about taking you on the floor because Barbatos doesn’t have much to clean up.

If your stomach grumbles after you’re settled and sleepy, he pulls himself off your body long enough to grab a plate from the table and put it beside your head.

Demons have more stamina and it would be un-princely of him not to spoil you, so he feeds you until you’re too sleepy to eat.

Barbatos

It’s exhausting to be able to see multiple timelines and see into the future.

He never knows how far into the future he’s seeing, or if it’s in the timeline he’s currently in

All he knows is he heard you ask him for dick and almost dumped the wrong thing in the soup, okay?

Had to excuse himself and ask someone on the cooking team to take over for him while he “dealt with another matter” (laughed it out where no one could hear him)

I’m not sure if Barbatos is considered a student at RAD, but Diavolo must be too. We’ll say he is. Boy is a master of self-discipline and scheduling so he’s fine. Flawless, as a butler should be. It carries over into all things.

It’s a delicate balance sometimes, but he’s type A and used to being busy so it works itself out. He does well.

Barbatos simply looks forward to having less to do. Focusing on Diavolo can be a job all its own.

He was planning on making a few sweets for Luke and the others. Diavolo suggested a “pot luck” to celebrate. It’s something the humans came up with and he seems to like it. It turns into sweets for the pot luck

Probably makes you a special mini-dessert or a special portion of the dessert

If he’s in control of plate presentation, you might get a special sauce heart of chocolate heart

When Diavolo is generous enough to include him in the celebration (because he deserves it and you’re there, so it’d be cruel not to), Barbatos makes small talk and woos you subtly

You ask him to “show you where to take the dishes” to get him alone. He can feel it in his little demon bones. You’re about to do it.

You do it.

You’re basically vibrating with excitement because you probably planned this and think you’re very clever. Human enthusiasm is so darling and it makes his heart pitter-patter to think you were simply bursting to ask HIM this.

“But of course,” he helps you stack the plates and guides your hand to the silverware sorter because you’re looking at him instead of what you’re doing. You almost put a fork in the spoon section. “Covered in chocolate? Plain?”

He’s trying to one-up you. He loves seeing his human change colors and not know what to do.

You whisper “I prefer wet,” back in his ear and Barbatos wonders how he didn’t see THAT in any of his visions

You: 1, Barbatos: 0. Helpless. Defenseless. Horny.

“That will be ready shortly,” he’s already pulling you away, down the hall, to meet your request.

Solomon

It wouldn’t serve him to do poorly in the Devildom. Basically wasted opportunity

He’s not a straight A student but he does well. Really pulls out the stops on major projects and things that are worth more points than others

Isn’t perfect at everything but makes up for it. Solid B’s, always really close to A’s. At least a couple low A’s.

Solomon doesn’t quite know how he wants to celebrate. He knows Asmo’s already pestering him to go shopping or clubbing

He’s considering it. He’d like to drink, honestly

You show up, light of his life, his favorite person, and he feels himself warm with joy

He revels in being the only other human in the Devildom. It makes your relationship that much more special, he thinks. It’s kind of stupid, but it’s something to coyly hold over the others whenever he sees fit. All in play, of course (not).

“I got all A’s! Can I have some dick?”

Pretends to think and looks anywhere but your face. If he looks at your face he’ll blush himself stupid and won’t be able to say anything smart.

He can’t lie. He’s already hard. He appreciates humor and wit and you’re all of it.

Very bold of you to come onto him like that, and he’s 100% for it.

“Can you take it?” Solomon wishes he said something smoother, that he wasn’t already slipping between your legs and grinding against you like the weak man he was. He doesn’t regret it though because the friction is good. Something you both need.

He whispers against your skin and gives you light, sloppy kisses with a hint of teeth.

He gives, and he’s generous. He wants to reward your efforts.

Simeon

Simeon makes it a point of personal pride to do well in the Devildom

That’s the utmost symbol of peace and understanding, isn’t it? To embrace their culture and livelihood and do well? To do well means he’s understanding them and walking in their shoes. It’s only right

He works hard and does well. Doesn’t stress himself out with A’s since he’s keeping up his grades because it’s required. He’d rather reconnect with the brothers and try to help Luke enjoy the Devildom.

He’s happy to spend his free time taking Luke to places in the Devildom, trying to visit the House of Lamentation, and maybe working on some things for TSL since editors are clamoring for more

You stop by because he’s been fairly quiet, wrapped up in his favorite writing sweater with his little editing glasses on

Simeon smiles and greets you with his little ‘Hi, angel’ as he kisses your hand.

Boy almost breaks his favorite pen when you ask him for...for dick?

He’s not absolutely clueless but this boy has been in ‘holy angel’ mode for centuries. He struggles with texting and stickers and you expect him to know slang?!

So confused he takes his glasses off. Boy can’t comprehend

“You’re asking me to procure one? Like...the ones humans use from those stores? You want mine? Well, I certainly hope so because we’re--oh...”

He could write books of poetry about you, and though he doesn’t like to admit it, he’s had those thoughts

“Well,” he’s standing up from his chair and guides you so gently to his bed it’s like you’re floating on a cloud. He lays you down just as gently, fabrics whispering as he slips out of his sweater and it pools at his feet. “I wouldn’t be a very good angel if I ignored the wishes of my dear human, would I?”

Doesn’t really see the point of sex as a reward, but will never turn down a moment to show how cherished you are.

Hope you liked it :)

#Obey me!#Obey me! x Reader #Obey me x Reader #Lucifer x Reader #Mammon x Reader #Levi x Reader #Leviathan x Reader #Satan x Reader #Asmodeus x Reader #Asmo x Reader #Beel x Reader #Beelzebub x Reader #Belphie x Reader #belphegor x reader #Simeon x Reader #Diavolo x Reader #Barbatos x Reader #Solomon x Reader

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hillarysss · 3 years

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How to Hurt The Venus Signs

Take into consideration sidereal and tropical.

Do not repost, plagiarize, “reword” my work. Don’t use these to hurt others instead use this on how to NOT hurt the Venus signs.

-- My first post🌸

Aries Venus: Tell them they are too much and too energetic and that they need to “chill” & tell them you think they’re immature and boring. Tell them you don’t like their voice. Tell them you don’t wanna go out and have fun and just wanna chill at home.

Leo Venus: Tell them they try too hard in selfies or try so hard to look good, tell them their fashion taste is basic and ordinary. Ghost them (This will HURT!). Tell them they’re one of the most beautiful people you’ve ever seen but not the most beautiful. Tell them they smell bad.

Cancer Venus: Tell them they make you feel super uncomfortable and that they’re creepy and perverted and disgusting. Make them feel gross and that they make you feel unsafe. Tell them you don’t want a family with them. (Will hurt a lot). Reject their cuddles and food.

Gemini Venus: These people are so laid back but tell them that you do not like their friends. Ignore what they say and make everything about you. Tell them they’re not funny. Fall asleep on a call with them or start yawning; show boredom with them. (Oddly specific lol). They will try to communicate with you about what’s going on, tell them you need a break.

Libra Venus: Flirt with other people. Comment flirty messages on other people’s posts. Engage with the opposite sex a lot. Have a very close friend you know longer than you known them. Be friends with somebody you once had a physical or emotional connection with. Tell them you have a lot of options during an argument. Tell them you’re just dating them for fun and have no actual commitment for the future. Talk to them about your ex even if it’s so they don’t mess up they hate hearing about your past relationships.

Aquarius Venus: Tell them you think they’re weird or you think they are too needy (They usually aren’t needy but if you tell them this they will think they are). Do not communicate with them about how you feel. Tell them their ideas or thought process is absurd and immature. Tell them they’re bad friends. Put a lot of rules on them. Tell them they’re stupid.

Pisces Venus: Tell them they’re sensitive and hopeless. Tell them they can do better. Ghost them. Tell them to stop getting excited over “silly” stuff. Tell them they’re overeacting. Tell them you think their touch doesn’t excite you. Don’t hug them. Cheat on them and apologize. (Nobody likes cheating but when you also apologize it will leave them thinking you think they’re easy and vulnerable. ) Rationalize their feelings.

Taurus Venus: They love hard. Reject their offerings and date ideas. Reject cuddling or any sort of touch with them. Tell them they cook bad or do stuff bad in general especially when they do it for you. Tell them they’re stubborn. Tell them you wanna go out and have fun with your friends and never inviting them. Still in contact with your ex. Try to persuade them with something they already said no to. Break any boundaries. Tell them they care too much.

Virgo Venus: Tell them they need to try harder in school or anything they’re persuing and tell them they need to do better for you when it comes to their ethic. Reject their love language. Critic them in anyway. Tell them they stink. Buy them hygiene products they will take it the wrong way. Tell them they have bad spelling or make no sense when they’re talking. Constantly tell them you don’t understand them.. Make no effort when you hangout. Judge them on their past. Call them a control freak and that they need to seek “help”. Not willing to learn their love language in anyway. Rejecting the little things they do. Be overbearing.

Capricorn Venus: Try to control them in anyway. Tell them you don’t like their gifts or reject their material offerings. Tell them they’re trying too hard for their goals and that they’ll never make it unless they do ____ or _____. Try to make them feel anyway they’re hopeless and that they need to stop caring about their goals and success and just have “fun”. Tell them to stop going overboard with dates and hangouts. Tell them to stop thinking about the future and let loose with them. Tell them how your ex did something better than they did. In fact, do not talk about your ex with a Capricorn Venus. They don’t care about your past. And will be hurt.

Scorpio Venus: Ignore them & ghost them. Make them feel obesssive and unwanted. Tell them they need pschyological help. Tell them to put more effort in the relationship. Keep secrets from them. Hide anything from them. Not apologizing for your actions. Keeping old partners and not showing growth. Be addicted to things that are bad for you. Have dry responses. Show any sign of disloyalty. Not talking to them about your past or what an ex did wrong so they can do better. Not liking their loved ones.

Sagittarius Venus: Threaten to breakup with them anytime they mess up. Tell them the memes they send aren’t funny or have a bad response to their jokes or memes. Control them in anyway. Tell them you don’t trust them. Show them you don’t trust them. Tell them they have a bad routine and bad hobbies. Don’t flirt back with them. Make fun of someone they look up to or make fun of their music taste. Anything they have a passion for show them you don’t give a fuck. Tell them they have a bad taste in anything. Call them clingy even if they aren’t. Tell them you don’t wanna go on a roadtrip with them. Tell them you think they are the most unfunniest person you’ve ever met. Tell them they’re too “Serious”. Ridicule anything they love and enjoy.

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teddi-too · 3 years

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Male Minotaur x Gender Neutral Reader (NSFW)

A/N: Lemon, 18+, my goodness this plot doesn’t make sense but it’s just a vehicle to the spice, ya know?

Finally, time away from the city, from work, from everyone. Sure some of your friends thought it was weird you wanted to rent a cabin in the woods for a week by yourself but it was heaven to you. Your job has been stressful lately and with working from home it never really felt like you got a break. You needed to get away, actually away. Out of your home. A chance to decompress and refresh.

You brought several books with you, some playing cards, and your laptop for when you broke down and needed a screen. The nearest residence was the owner of this cabin and that was nearly a mile away on the other side of the property. You were deep in the woods and you felt comforted by the seclusion. The cabin had everything you needed, a small kitchen that you loaded up with groceries from the nearest town, a surprisingly large bathroom with a huge whirlpool tub, a cozy living room with a gas fireplace, and the bedroom was a cute loft that you had to climb up a ladder to get to. There was a desk near the front window that you could sit and eat or play solitaire at and a small table and chair on the front porch.

You settled in and made yourself a cup of tea and sat on the porch. It was a long drive and by the time you had checked in, stocked up on groceries and unpacked, the sun was beginning to set. Instead of popping up to make dinner right away, you let yourself just watch the sunset sitting on the porch. The trees were so thick outside the cabin, you couldn’t really see the sunset but it was nice seeing the color change in the trees. The darkness seemed to swallow up the thick forest and you felt comforted knowing you were truly alone.

The next couple days were simple and lovely just like you had hoped. You slept in, made good meals and laid on the couch reading. But your favorite thing to do was to sit on the front porch and stare out into the woods. There was something healing about breathing in the fresh air and letting yourself do nothing.

The third day passed by just the same except when you were on the porch eating your dinner, you felt differently than you had before. You didn’t feel the same emptiness from the woods that you did before. It almost felt like something was watching you. You stared at the treeline, scanning for movement and trying to convince your quickening heartbeat that you were, in fact, alone. You stared at the treeline so long you must have gotten dizzy because you swear you saw some greenery moving on its own. A mossy mass of...rocks or something behind the trees looked like it had moved. But that would be ridiculous. Rocks don’t move, moss doesn’t breathe...even though that’s what it definitely looked like it was doing.

Your throat was dry and even though you felt a little silly, you called out anyway.

“Hello? Um...trees-forest? Are you...alive? Are you...watching me?”

What the fuck, you immediately thought. Did you just talk to the forest? You stood up and started to gather your plate and silverware.

“I’m sorry.” You heard a faint, low voice respond. You froze in your tracks, eyes widening to try to see anything in the dusk. “I just liked watching you. Please, don’t be scared.”

Ok, yup. Three days in isolation and you have started hearing voices. You thought for sure it would take longer than that, you thought you could at least make it a week and be ok. You closed your eyes tight and then opened them to scan the treeline again. The mass of moss and rock you had eyed earlier was now gone. Your heart sank. You began to stop forward towards the edge of the porch.

No, stupid feet. The other way. Inside. Inside!

“Who are you?” you called again, your voice slightly shaky. You heard some trees groan, some leaves shook, and then out between two trees emerged the most beautiful creature you had ever seen.

It was tall and broad, its body rippled with muscle and its skin was a cool greenish gray that mimicked the woods around it. It had the head of a bull, with ivory horns extending upward. It had a thick, shaggy mane framing its face that stretched down its neck and covered its shoulder. It’s torso looked like a human man albeit with more muscles than any action movie hero you had ever seen. Your eyes followed along its thick arms down to its hands which nervously turned over and over each other.It’s middle section melted back into the same mossy looking fur of its man and its legs returned to a more bull-like anatomy ending in large hooves. It...he...looked exactly like a minotaur out of a fantasy novel. His face was kind from what you could see, his mane hung shaggily over his eyes a bit. He had to be over seven feet tall. How he had hidden himself so well among the trees was a mystery.

“I’m sorry if I frightened you. You just are so beautiful...I couldn’t help but watch you.” he said, his deep voice getting smaller and smaller as he finished his sentence until watch you came out as a whisper. You were so mesmerized by this creature any fear you had before subsided.

“It’s ok, do you have a name?” It felt like an odd question, considering it was clearly an intelligent creature that spoke your language but you didn’t know what else to say. What are you? seemed like a terribly rude thing to say. The creature shrugged.

“No, I’m…” he seemed to be searching for words, “the guardian of this forest. Which mostly means I just live here.” You chuckled and he looked at you with a small smile. You told him your name and explained that you were just visiting for a few days. The minotaur knew this cabin well, he liked to come and see who the visitors were. Though, you learned, most of them weren’t as quiet and respectful as you. Most of them came to binge drink and make a mess for a weekend. It made him happy how often you just liked to sit and look out at the forest, his forest.

“You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. Are there more like you?” you asked, smiling. He seemed to light up at your comment for a moment before the spark dimmed a bit.

“You really think I’m beautiful?” he rubbed the back of his neck shyly. “I’m...the only one that I know of. I’ve been alone since I was a calf.” You frowned at the sadness in his voice.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you said and began to walk towards him. He backed up a few steps as you got close. “I’m sorry, should I...keep my distance?”

“No, it’s just...most people are scared of me or...want to...hurt me.” he said while looking at the ground. He massaged his bicep and you noticed a dark scar stretching across his arm. “I usually stay away from people but…I feel drawn to you and I'm not sure why.” He didn’t move further back when you continued to step towards him.

“I’m so sorry people have been cruel to you. I would never hurt you, I...you’re so…” your words trailed off. You felt drawn towards him too. You looked back at the cabin, wondering if he could even comfortably come inside. While you were looking away, he had closed the distance between you. You turned and looked up at him. You reached your hand out to touch him. There was tension pulsing between your bodies. You wanted him, you couldn’t explain why you wanted to give yourself so freely to him but you did. You were so certain of it.

The fur around his neck and upper chest that had looked almost like grass and moss from far away turned out to be soft and thick and cool to the touch. Your fingers could nearly disappear into it. He lowered himself so that you were nearly face to face. You stroked him softly from cheek to chest playing in his fur. Your light, wanting touch seemed to relax him and he began to lean towards you. He snout nuzzled into the crook of your neck. He breathed in your scent deeply. You felt a long, thick tongue lick up your neck. It was warm and heavy on your skin. It caused an electric and staticy feeling to pool in your lower abdomen. You realized quickly how badly you wanted him--to explore him, touch him, feel him.

He pulled away and looked at you earnestly with wanting eyes. His strong hands danced up and down your arms and you weren’t sure if he was reassuring you or himself. You smiled at him and nodded your head, closing your eyes and moving in to kiss him. He circled his arms low around your waist and returned your kiss. Before you realized it, he had pulled your feet off the ground and was holding you against him. He straightened himself and you put your legs around him. He so smoothly and effortlessly navigated your height difference to make it so neither of you were straining to meet each other. Pressing against his body, wrapped in a deep, sloppy kiss your body couldn’t help but react to him. Heat moved throughout your body, concentrating in your core and desire took over you. Holding tight to the giant creature, your hips began to writhe slowly against him.

You broke from the kiss every so often to check in on him, cupping his jaw in your hands, placing small chaste kisses on his snout, moving your hands through his mane and rubbing his chest. Never parting for long before returning to his mouth.

“I want you--need you,” you said breathlessly. He leaned over and layed you gently on the hard ground and crouched down onto his knees. He stilled himself for a moment and then reached out his hand to you.

“I want you to touch me but...I know that I’m...different” he trailed off, his eyes breaking contact with yours. You sat up and closed the distance between you once again and kissed his chest and ran your hands over his muscled body.

“Please, believe me when I say I want this...I want you. You’re beautiful.” You weren’t sure how else to convince him that you were being sincere so you took your hands away from him and began to remove your clothing. His jaw dropped slightly and his eyes moved all over your body as he took in the sight. He cooed compliments about your figure, your skin, your complexion, he babbled on and on until you were naked in front of him. When you had finished taking off your clothes you looked at him and noticed he was palming his crotch. You touched his arm gently and he moved his hand away to let you see.

The bulge you barely noticed before had grown bigger and there was a small opening that wasn’t visible earlier. You reached out and traced your fingertips along the opening. It was warm and slick. You cupped the bulge in your hands and began massaging it. Looking up at his face, his eyes were closed tight and he was nodding his head compulsively. His fists were balled up, settled on his hips. He was used to his own hands being his only source of pleasure but he wanted your touch to be what undid him this time.

As you massaged him, the tip of his penis began to push out of the sheath. The head was round and thick, red and glistening with his own slick. You continued to work the sheath, watching in awe as his full length pushed itself out of his body before falling heavily against his thigh. His cock was long and thick and your body pulsed with your need for it. He parted his thick, muscled thighs, spreading his knees apart further to give you better access. You took a deep breath and your body tightened at the sight wondering what it would feel like to be stuffed with his cock.

You slowly trailed your fingers along the top of his hard cock before encircling it in your palm. It was heavy and warm, your fingers could barely meet around its girth. You dipped your head lower and dragged your tongue along his member. It was sticky with the cooled slick from his sheath.

After teasing his length with your tongue, you took him into your mouth. He was so thick, the corners of your mouth felt stretched just taking the tip. You slipped your mouth as far down the shaft as you could and began to suck, bobbing your head lightly along his length. You breathed in through your nose, trying to relax your throat and mouth to take more of him but he was just so large. You resigned to focus in on the head of his cock where you could more easily create suction with your mouth. You stayed there teasing his tip until you could taste his precum begin to weep. His hips jutted forward instinctively, choking you on his length. You pulled away with a cough, drool falling from your mouth.

You heard him clear his throat, attempting to regain his composure. You smiled up at him and began to move your hand up and down his shaft to extend his pleasure. You reached out with your other hand cupping his testicles and rubbed over one then the other with your thumb. The only sound you could hear was his heavy breathing and his choked back groans. His large hands reached down towards you, pawing at you with no real intention. He was overwhelmed with the sensation of your hands working him.

His hand cupped your chin gently and pushed lightly on your shoulders to signal you to lay down again. Inching forward on his knees, he grabbed your sides and lifted you up onto his hips so he could reach your entrance more easily. You could feel his hard cock digging into your back and you laid, exposed and vulnerable against him.

He took his large thumb and stuck it in your mouth, you sucked on it slowly moving your head in an exaggerated way that drove him wild. He pulled back his hand and used his wet thumb to start massaging your entrance; slow large circles just next to your entrance. A cool electric feeling stretched out from your sex throughout your entire body. After teasing your entrance, moving closer and closer with his thumb quickening his pace he moved his hand away, leaving your desire falling off a cliff.

You whined at the loss of his touch and tried to move your hips to show your need. He smirked, moved your body up on him further and dipped his muzzle down towards your sex. His breath was hot and heavy as he moved his snout over sex wanting to take you in with all his senses. He nuzzled your entrance with his lips briefly before opening his mouth and laying his strong tongue against you. His tongue was wide and flat and moved over your hole with a heaviness that left you wordlessly begging for more. His drool mixed with your own slick left you sopping wet and pulsing with need. He worked the outside of your entrance for a dizzyingly long time before dipping his tongue into you. You could feel his cock twitch beneath you and you knew you both wanted all of each other.

He tasted you, moving his tongue in and out of you, lapping over your entrance until he was confident you were ready to take his large cock. He longingly moved his hands over your body as he repositioned you. You reached for his cock and stroked it a few more times making sure he was at the same height of his desire as you were. You stared intensely at one another, your bodies pulsing with anticipation.

He lined himself up with your entrance and you felt his thick cock press against you.

“Please” you whined, not able to take the slow pace any longer. You knew he wanted to savor this but your body needed him so badly. He pushed into you slowly and you let out a loud gasp as your body clenched and spasmed trying to take him in. Your eyes stung with tears as he continued to move into you, stretching you to your limit. When he got to a place where he felt like he couldn’t push in further, he slowly moved out of you; then back in again. He picked up his pace just slightly moving in and out, working you open with his cock, pushing deeper in as he thrusted.

He grunted quietly as he continued to move faster and faster and you returned with your own moans. The wet sucking noises of him fucking you filled the cool night and your body felt like it was swimming in pleasure. You tried moving your hips in pace with his to multiply the friction your bodies were experiencing but he was so big and you were so overcome with bliss you got lost in the feeling.

Making you thunder back into the present moment, you cried out loudly as he placed the heel of his hand into your stomach rutting into you with even more strength than before. The added pressure of his hands on your torso made you see stars and your first orgasm ripped through you without any warning. Your body felt hot and sparks pricked all over your skin as he fucked you through your orgasm, never slowing down. You tried to catch your breath and steady yourself but he began fucking you even faster, pushing into you nearly past your limit as he chased his own release.

“I-want to see me all over you” he stuttered out, a grunt and thrust punctuating each word. You nodded wordlessly, your head dizzy as your overstimulated hole spasmed around his cock. He pushed into you a few more times before he pulled himself out of you and let you drop roughly to the ground. His voice strained against his desire as he grabbed his cock and started stroking himself. Your body buzzed with anticipation and you started fingering your hole waiting for him to finish all over you.

His head thrashed, horns cutting wildly through the air, suddenly reminding you of his bull upper half. His pace was erratic as he worked himself to the edge, he stuck his hips forward to move over your body and he came with a roar. Thick ropes of white-hot come erupted from his cock and landed on your torso. He continued to stroke himself, moving his hips as he came, sending his seed all over your neck, face and on the ground around you. His whole body seemed to spasm and he fell forward on to his hands, breathing heavily and hovering above you. The sight of him coming sent another shiver up your body as your hole pulsed around your fingers, desire still swimming around you.

After pausing for a moment, both of you quiet in your blissed out state, he placed a hand on your chest, fingering his own seed admiring the mess he made of you. He placed a come covered finger over your lips and pushed into your mouth, watching your reaction as you tasted him. You sucked his release off his finger.

“How many more days are you here?” he panted, still catching his breath. You laughed and put your arms around his thick neck. Your body felt completely drained of all strength and you weren’t sure you’d even be able to lift yourself off the ground right then.

“Do that again and I might never leave.”

#exophilia #teratophillia #terato #monster lover #monster x reader #monster fucker #minotaur #minotaur x reader

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taestefully-in-luv · 3 years

Text

The Island | KTH (Four)

Summary: You’re just two strangers waking up in a room on a lonely island where a company in the business of love has placed you. They believe that thanks to their in depth research you two are destined soulmates. What happens when your ‘soulmate’ and you want nothing to do with each other but falling in love is the only way to leave?

Pairing: Taehyung x Female reader

Genre: strangers to lovers, very slight enemies to lovers, soulmates au, roommate au, slow burn, fluff, smut, angst, slight crack, and drama.

Word Count: 11k

Warnings: swearing, sexual tension (?) implied sex

Notes: this is not a reflection of Taehyung’s art! Just saying lol But anyway, hope you guys like this chapter. Tae and oc sure have a lot of moments huh. let me know if you want to be added to the taglist, or send an ask if just want to chat about the stories!:)

Taglist: @ggukkieland @707sblog @peacedreamer14 @dopedreamfireparty @everythingnamjoon @taebae19 @typicalgenzworld @mooniyooni @getmemyfries @helenazbmrskai @justinetingball @jpeachytaev

Previous --- Next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Month 4

“What the fuck is that?” You point accusingly towards the paper Taehyung is excitedly holding up.

“What do you mean,” he grins. “It’s you!”

“…throw it away.”

“What?! No! I worked hard on this!”

“I look like a god damn frog.”

“In the painting or in real life becau—"

“THE PAINTING!” You leap towards Taehyung and reach for his atrocious artwork. Can he even call this disaster art? No offense, no actually, full offense but its ugly as hell. Taehyung lifts it high above his head.

“Listen, listen…don’t you think this hurts my feelings a little y/n? I worked hard on th—”

“I swear to God Taehyung…if you don’t burn this—"

“OKAY OKAY! No need to put out threats!” he pouts almost theatrically. You eye him up and down, waiting for him to make a move towards a trashcan but he just stands here.

“Well? Go throw it away.”

“No.”

“No?”

“Yeah, no.”

You close your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose, “What do you mean no?”

Taehyung narrows his eyes at you and laughs under his breath as he steps closer to you.

“First of all, you don’t tell me what to do. I prefer if it’s the other way around.” He smirks, “And second, I am still going to keep it. For the memories.”

You chew on your lips for a few moments, letting his words sink in. But for the memories?

“For the memories? Why would you want to remember any of this?”

Taehyung frowns at your words, he looks genuinely offended.

“I might not like our situation but…”

“But what?”

“Fuck, don’t make me say it.” He says while turning red. “You know, I still want to make good memories with like, you.” He admits softly.

You finally give in, gently reaching for the awful artwork. Don’t get it wrong, Taehyung’s art is usually so beautiful. He does landscapes and abstract pieces and they absolutely blow you away. But his portraits of people? Disgusting.

“Fine…” You smile down at the painting in your hands then look back at him, “But if I see this hung up anywhere I am burning it myself.” You smirk. “And I will take great pleasure in that.”

“Oooooh please tell me more about your pleasures.” Taehyung wiggles his brows at you.

“You’re the worst.” you smile, “Anyway, do we have a deal?” you stick out your hand for him to shake.

“Deal!” Taehyung cheeses, slapping your hand down and going in for a quick hug instead. You’re surprised to say the least, you kind of guessed Taehyung was the affectionate type but you didn’t expect to be on the receiving end of it. “I’ll be in my art room most the day. Movie night though?”

“Yes, movie night.” you oblige.

“Yay.” He chirps happily, skipping off to his art room down the hall. You can’t help but smile as he disappears from your sight.

But then your heart pinches in your chest. You want to feel happy. Are you just ungrateful? You should be happy. Taehyung is finally being himself around you and you finally feel like you aren’t as alone. But it’s all a façade technically…he’s got no one else, just like you have no one else. In the real world…if you two met would you become friends like this? Or is this all forced? Is your entire friendship fake? You feel your heart sink to the bottom of your stomach, you hate these thoughts.

He’s so different than you thought he would be…he’s lighthearted, he’s funny, he’s silly, he’s talented, he’s human. And don’t even get started on flirty Taehyung…You really thought he was some closed off asshole but as time goes on and he becomes more and more comfortable you see the real him, and you really enjoy it. And you hate that you enjoy it. What are you like? Are you still a brat? Does he still think that? You chuckle to yourself, he probably does. Has he grown so comfortable with you that he’s not as angry about being stuck here with you? No, you imagine he’s still really upset about this whole thing. He just doesn’t voice it to you as much anymore. Maybe he’s avoiding the subject. You can understand why. It’s awkward. This place wants to get you two together but neither of you are interested in the other romantically. You just don’t see it happening.

~~~~~

Taehyung is just relaxing in his room on the verge of a glorious nap, he is finally dozing off, eyes slowly closing when his head snaps up in reaction to a loud crash coming from downstairs. Now what the hell could that be? Panicked, he rushes to his feet. He flies down the stairs in record time trying to find the source of the loud bang. He stands in the living room, glancing around the area for any sign of you. Are you okay? Where are you? Shit. Frustrated, he runs his fingers through his hair and as calmly as possible calls out for you. But nothing. Fuck. Your name slips past his lips in growing panic.

He decides he is going to charge each room in search for you, when he reaches the door to his art studio. He can hear muffled words on the other side of the door.

“Shit. Damn. Fuck.”

He instantly roll his eyes to the back of his head, literally so far back all that’s seen is the white of his eyes.

“Such foul language for such a pretty mouth.” He whispers to himself, slowly creeping the door open, exposing a distracted and distraught you.

“Motherfucker!” you huff, your hands on your hips, eyeing the mess you made. God damn did you make a fucking mess. On the floor is a canvas, brushes scattered and a rainbow of colors splattered all around.

“What. Are. You. Doing.”

Your head whips in his direction, your face turning many shades of reds. He stands at the doorway making his presence known, looking at you expectantly, judgement in his eyes. At least he hopes you can see the judgement in his eyes. Because he is definitely judging like hella hard.

You continue to stand here, your blush deepening. He is too frustrated to find it anything but annoying. You begin to stutter out words he can’t make out. You are trying your best, that much is obvious. You’re trying to explain yourself but he can tell you’re only becoming more and more flustered at the situation. He is sure his annoyed expression doesn’t help your ability to speak. Whoops.

“I-I was…well, you said, well remember you said…” You try. You really try. He almost wants to laugh, but not quite.

“I-I said? I said what?” He keeps his stoic demeanor intact, just stressing you further. He’s almost having fun with this. Almost.

“Well, Taehyung…listen,” you try again. “You said,”

“I said?”

Your eyes scan the room as if there’s something here that will help you.

“Words y/n. I need you to use your words.” He demands, maybe having a little fun stressing you out. He sees your blush become such a deep shade of red that even he feels embarrassed.

Finally, you releases a long breath and words begin spilling out of your mouth.

“You said you wanted to keep that frog picture—“

“Your portrait, you mean.”

“Yes, yes whatever. Anyway, you wanted to keep it for the memories, right? You…you…you’re sentimental like that or whatever.” You pause to take a breath. “And and…”

He raises a brow at you, taking a few steps forward, mindful of the mess you made.

“And?”

You raise your head to look into his eyes. You’re staring so intensely that he wonders where you got this wave of confidence from. He stares back just as seriously. Your eyes are the same as usual, dark, plain, boring. For the most part.

“And…I decided that maybe, that maybe I want to…paint you…too?” you step forward. “You know, for the memories.” You tear your eyes away from him. But he sort of wishes you didn’t.

His brows pinch together at your little idea. You want to paint him ? He studies your face seeing if maybe there’s anything else. You look tense under his gaze, he admits that makes him feel kind of good. Is that mean? You look so incredibly shy, and it is so fucking...something, he doesn’t know what but it’s something. He continues to observe you and your shy expressions.

He looks down at you and breaks into his best shit eating grin, his hand reaches down to ruffle your hair.

“Yes!” he lightly chuckles, “Let’s make lots of memories!”

It looks like you’re in a daze, his reaction catching you off guard, he guesses. Taking a moment to collect yourself, you look up into his eyes again.

“Yeah, lots of ‘em.” your smile slowly begins to fade, “We won’t be here forever, so we have to leave with lots of memories.” you mutter.

Taehyung feels himself go soft at your words.

“y/n…” he slides his fingers down to cup the back of your head, fingers gently massaging your scalp. “When this is all over…we can still be in contact, you know?” Your eyes travel to the floor, eyeing the mess you made. He’s still getting over that.

“I know…but Taehyung, I still feel like I don’t even know basic things about you! Like what even is your favorite, uh, I don’t know, animal? I can’t tell you how long I have been wondering that and—”

“Then let’s have a whole night dedicated to that. Let’s drink some wine, paint some pictures and learn everything there is to know!” he moves his hand forward, his fingers playing at the ends of your hair, “Like, what shampoo did they give you because your hair is soft as fuck.”

You give him an unimpressed look,

“I know you steal my shampoo sometimes, I’m not dumb.”

“Don’t know what you are talking about.” He cheeses.

“But okay,” you grin at him, “Let’s do that.”

“I love Koalas and sloths!” You’re laid out on your stomach, swinging your legs above you while sipping on your red wine.

“You can’t choose two!”

“I just did.”

“Fine. Mine is…drum roll…its…” he pats the floor repeatedly.

“Oh come on! Tell me! I’ve been dying to know!”

“Its…lion!” he lays next to you, resting on his side. He eyes the painting you are working on. It’s supposed to be him…supposed to be.

“I like lions too.” You add more color to the background of the canvas. He can hear the smile in your voice.

“Sheesh…and you think I am bad at drawing people…”

“Stop being a hater!”

“ME?” he stares at you incredulously.

You and Taehyung are a few glasses of wine in already. He can tell its hitting you harder than its hitting him, you’re extra talkative and all giggly. He’s painted a picture of the beach while you’ve worked on a portrait of him, it’s amusing to say the least—the portrait. Pretty quickly glasses turned into bottles. Bottle number 3 has been opened and now he is also talkative and all giggly. He’s a giggly lil thang when he’s drunk, and he is drunk.

“Okay,” he sits up, sitting on his legs. “First impression of me, go!” he laughs, for literally no reason.

“I thought you kidnapped me.” You state plainly, “So like, a creepy person.”

His jaw drops.

“I’m offended!” He lays his hand over his heart. “You thought I was creepy?! And there I was thinking you were just some hot chick I hooked up!” Yes, he called you hot to your face. He is drunk, he is allowed to do that. Yeehaw.

“Okay to be fair, that thought crossed my mind too.”

“That I was some hot chick you hooked up with?”

“I never said hot.”

“But you were thinking it, right right?” he wiggles his eyebrows in the most exaggerated way.

You smirk before chugging back the rest of your wine, reaching for a new bottle.

“Okay, maybe I thought it.” You admit, your sly smile growing.

“Want me to open it?” he gestures towards the wine bottle.

“Please.”

He reaches for the bottle of wine, his hands brushing against yours. He hates that he feels a quiet fire in his insides when he touches you. He hates how when his skin makes contact with your skin there is an automatic heat that lights up and warms him, burns him almost.

“Do you have someone? That you like?” You slur out, curious about Taehyung’s love life.

“…Yes.” Taehyung admits softly.

“I am what they call a ‘Dilf’” Jin states confidently. The rest of the boys share a look of confusion.

“You literally aren’t a dad?” Jimin looks at Jin with a puzzled smile.

“But you can’t tell me I am not a ‘dilf’ though.”

“Okay Jin, you’re a dilf.” Namjoon rolls his eyes, going back to his book.

“I wanna be a dilf too.” Jungkook whines and Taehyung nods his head in agreement. Jin shakes his fingers at the boys and speaks up.

“You have to earn the title.”

“Yeah, by being a dad.” Jimin deadpans.

“Let the man have his dreams.” Yoongi says before putting his ear bud back in his ear and nodding along to whatever song is playing.

“My dream is to finish this assignment.” Hobi groans into his pile of papers on the table.

“This is your fault for going back to school for your masters!” Taehyung teases. He has just recently dropped out of school and he is loving it. He watches as his friend works night after night on paper after paper and Taehyung no longer has to worry about things like that. He can just focus on the music.

“Are you guys using this chair?” Taehyung hears a sweet voice cut off all their chatter. He looks up to see this gorgeous girl with light brown hair that reaches her waist and eyes as bright as the sun.

“Uh, no.” Taehyung clears his throat, “You can take it.”

“Thanks.” She smiles at Taehyung and then at the rest of the boys before she’s dragging the chair to the table next to them.

“Holy shit.” Taehyung whispers to Jungkook, “She’s so pretty.”

“That’s Hana.” Jungkook looks over his shoulder at Hana and her friends. “I have a class with her.”

“Bro, introduce me!” Taehyung begs. “You literally owe me.”

“From what?!”

“I let you fuck that one chick like 2 years ago even though I saw her first.”

“Oh? You let me? Really?” Jungkook rolls his eyes. “But anyway, sure. I’ll introduce you.” He says nonchalantly, picking up his drinking and taking a sip.

“Taehyung?” you wave your hand in front of his blank face. “Taehyung?” “Huh? Yeah?” he starts snapping out of his memories, “what’s up? What did you say?”

“I asked her name.” you smile awkwardly, “The girl you like.”

“Hana.” He quietly clears his throat, “What about you? Do you have someone?”

“After my ex? I am staying away from men for a while.” You laugh, “Like, can you blame me?”

Taehyung can’t help by frown at your words.

“Don’t close yourself off…” Taehyung whispers to you. “You’re too pretty for that.” He slurs out and you blink at him repeatedly.

“I’m pretty?”

Taehyung scoffs and rolls his eyes playfully.

“Like you didn’t know.”

Hours pass you two by, more wine has been drank and you two are giggling like school children. Taehyung is folded over, laughing a storm as you do your best impression of a dolphin. You can’t help but fall over and laugh your head off as well, the alcohol obviously has made you two crazy.

Taehyung finally calms down and looks at you with soft eyes, “So, what’s your biggest fear?” he asks, leaning forward.

“No!” you laugh. Fucking laugh. “Listen, we can go back to our serious convos another day…right now I wanna…” you slur your last words, “wanna talk about fun stuff.” you give him the most sleazy wink he’s ever seen. It kind of works for him though.

“Okay.” He agrees easily, “Tell me the story about how you lost your virginity? Don’t leave anything out”

Your eyebrows shoot up, “Wanna know the dirty details huh?” you part your lips and smile.

“Dirty? I bet it was as vanilla as vanilla gets.”

You frown at his words, “I’m not vanilla. I’m fun, I swear.” you pout.

“I didn’t mean it as boring babe. I just mean you probably lost it to like your high school sweetheart, your first love, blah blah blah. The romantic shit.” You exhale a short breath…babe? You like the new friendly nickname, you admit.

“Actually it’s the opposite.”

“The opposite?”

“First year of college. Random guy from a bar. Total one night stand type of situation. I didn’t even tell him it was my first time. I think he probably just thought I was really inexperienced. “ You laugh to yourself. Sounds like a situation you might regret but there is no bitterness in your tone.

“Oh wow. y/n the cry baby can do one night stands?” he teases.

“I’m full of surprises you know.” The glint in your eye tells him he’s going to find out eventually.

“Well then what are the dirty details?” he pries further, leaning into your space again.

“Hmm, don’t think I am drunk enough for that.”

“Oh, I can grab another bottle of wine.” He teases, “But fine.”

“About your comment about me being vanilla…” you begin but Taehyung is cutting you off with the shake of his head.

“I didn’t mean it bad—”

“Are you into vanilla sex?”

Taehyung’s eyebrows crawl to the top of his forehead and his mouth falls open.

“Why are you asking that?” he breathes out, his eyes darkening.

“They paired us together, you know? We probably have more in common than you think…my guess that means sex too.”

“I know we have that in common.” He smirks, “I’m guessing you never looked in the other room?” he quirks a brow at you. “You might find it interesting.”

“The other room?” you tilt your head to the side, “Oh? The one upstairs next to your bathroom? Yeah, I stuck my head in there once…I saw it’s just another bedroom.”

“Is it really just another bedroom though? You didn’t have a look around?” his sly smile grows on his stupidly handsome face. “Like I said…you might find it interesting.”

“What are you talking about?” you slur, “Why would I…?”

Taehyung rises to his feet, walks towards you and leans down until he’s softly gripping your arm and pulling you up.

“Let’s go explore.” He chuckles, “I want you to see the room.” He’s guiding you out the art room, you two stumbling through the door.

You both begin to make your way upstairs, his hand never leaving your arm as you two walk. You keep bumping into him and he only laughs, squeezing your arm every few moments. You guys walk through the hall until you’re standing outside the bedrooms door.

“Go on.” He looks at you with a smirk, “I want you to explore this bedroom.”

“You’re being weird.” You giggle, opening the door.

And just like you thought, it’s just a bedroom. There’s a large bed in the middle of the room against the wall, and a couple of dressers, a closet, a huge ass mirror and other normal bedroom things.

“And?” You glance at Taehyung.

He looks at you with an amused smile. “Explore.” He commands.

You give him a weird look before walking through the room, your hand slides against the dresser that holds the extra large mirror. You catch your reflection and smile at how drunk you look. Taehyung walks behind you and eyes both of your reflections, he steps close to you and chuckles.

“I like this mirror.” He whispers. “Great view of the bed.”

“Uh yeah?” you look at him through the mirror, “I guess so.”

“Explore the drawers.” His evil grin makes you nervous…you look down at the drawers and open the first one on the left, there’s multiple things inside but you can’t tell what they are. You stick your hand inside and grab the first thing it can find. You pull this object out and bring it closer to your face, your drunken vision making it hard to identify what it is. Then your eyes are expanding and you drop the object in the drawer, the loud thud making you jump.

“What was that?” Taehyung whispers, “Something you know right?”

A dildo. Your eyes scan the rest of the drawer only to see more, along with other toys. You quickly slam the drawer shut and turn around to face Taehyung, who is standing so close behind you.

“What the hell?” you stutter out, turning red.

“That’s not all. Check the closet.” He says quietly, pointing towards the closet. And you listen, you walk forward until you’re standing beside the sliding door. You open it and see various articles of clothing.

Lingerie and outfits. Maid, nurse, etc. You stare at the clothes in disbelief.

“What is all this?” you turn to face Taehyung.

“You tell me.” He says chuckling, “Seems like we like the same stuff.” He shrugs. “Maybe you can,” he walks closer and is touching the maid lingerie, “wear this next you’re cleaning the house.”

He’s teasing you. Your stomach twists and turns, your heart is jumping out of your chest and you feel so fucking warm.

“S-Shut up.” You lean back on the door.

“Oh baby, I think you and I both know who tells who what to do here.” He breathes out, not looking at you as he still plays with the material of more lingerie.

“Taehyung,” you sigh, “The cameras can’t hear you in here.”

“Ah,” he turns to face you, “Right. Should we head back downstairs?”

“Yes.” You slur out, feeling quite dizzy.

Month 5

It’s the bright white screen you know all too well…it has you releasing a shaky breath as you wait for the black letters to eventually appear.

“Hey Taehyung…” you call out for you roommate who is making something to eat in the kitchen. “I think we have an incoming message from our,” You pause, huffing out. “Our little friends.”

“Oh. Oh shit.” You hear Taehyung whine from behind you. “I thought they were finally starting to back off…” he sighs out. “Let’s see what these fuckers want.”

Request:

Skinny dip for 1 hour. Must be within a foot of one another.

Ex-excuse you? Ex-fucking-cuse you? Skinny who what for when what? Your eyes bulge out of your head. This has got to be some sort of joke.

“Hell no!” you yell out, not even sparing Taehyung a glance.

Voice full of panic, Taehyung is quick to bring up the alternative.

“The penalty!” he rushes. “What’s the penalty? We will just do the penalty!”

Penalty:

No power or running water for 3 days.

“No pow—what the fuck?” Taehyung shakes his head, disbelief written all over his face.

“Wait! And no running water? Like, we can’t flush the toilet for 3 days? That’s bullshit!” you drag your hands down your face, “And wont the stuff in our fridge go bad?”

Several long moments pass between you two and not in a cool way. There’s nothing cool about this shit. There’s tension filling the air around you both. Awkward tension.

“Isn’t this too much?” Taehyung finally says, obviously not able to tolerate the silence any longer.

You both exchange worried glances with one another before Taehyung says some shit you don’t like.

“Let’s just do the request.”

Your eyes basically pop out of your head.

“Are you out of your mind—do the requests? How could you say that so easily!” you mumble, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“I feel like it’s the best choice.” He gives his honest answer. “Plus, you’ve never seen a naked man before? We will get over it y/n. Knowing me and you, we will be laughing about it in a couple days.” He finally turns to face you, throwing a wink your way, “You know it’s true.”

You mull over your options and hate that he’s right. You very timidly respond with a quiet ‘okay’ and avoid his eyes. His dark, intimidating eyes.

Your heart is racing, No, that is an understatement; your heart is on the verge of explosion. Your nerves are scattered and pounding from the inside out. You are freaking out. Naked with Taehyung? And he seems cool as a fucking cucumber.

“Let’s meet outside once it’s completely dark out.” You suggest.

“Read my mind.”

“…Of course I did, we’re” you roll your eyes. “Soulmates.” you laugh bitterly to yourself, “anyway, I’ll just see you tonight.”

“So you’re just going to avoid me until tonight?” Taehyung asks, “It’s not like they’re asking us to fuck.” He sways on his feet, “Just keep your eyes on my eyes and we will be fine.”

“Right.” You choke out, “Because it’s that easy.”

“Are you saying it’s impossible not to check me out?” he teases and you feel your cheeks heat up.

“Shut up.”

“Brat.”

Night fall approaches sooner rather than later. You wish it would have taken a million years to appear but nope, here you are. You stand outside with Taehyung in front of you. You’re in an oversized t shirt and loose shorts, keeping it simple since they’re coming off anyway. Taehyung wears his usual sweats and a white tee. You two are standing next to the pool, knowing the time has finally come. After leaving Taehyung earlier this afternoon, you took a much needed nap to clear your head.

“Don’t let your eyes linger.” You mumble, nodding your head in his direction.

“Ha, I was going to say the same thing to you.” He pokes his tongue out. Taehyung looks fucking comfortable as fucking always. Like, this doesn’t bother him in the least.

Luckily, the tension is tolerable. So you decide to make the first move. You begin unbuttoning your shorts—

“Woah! Woah! Woah! Wait!” he yells. His arms flailing, trying to stop you.

You scrunch your nose in annoyance, “What?” you ask, not too pleased since you are just trying to get this over with. If you got told 5 months ago that you would be in a hurry to get naked in front of this guy you would ugly laugh. Yet here you are.

“It’s just-it’s just…we should go at the same time.” Taehyung rushes to say.

“Oh, okay. Pants first, let’s go—”

“No! that’s awkward.” He shakes his head, “shirt first.”

“Okay, okay.” You oblige, “weirdo” You whisper loud enough that he can hear you.

The two of you begin with your tops, you try to focus your eyes elsewhere but they naturally skim the skin of his chest and abdomen as his shirt comes off quickly. Taehyung doesn’t even try to look away as you undress, his dark, intimidating stare causing you to feel chills. You slip off your pink t shirt, exposing your bare torso that is laced with a pretty black bralette. His gaze doesn’t waver.

“Okay, next is our bottoms right?” You gulp. He only nods.

You continue the job on unbuttoning your shorts, letting them fall to your feet exposing your matching black panties. Yes, you wore a sexy matching set on purpose. If he’s going to see you like this why wouldn’t you want to look good? You would do that for anybody. You can feel him eyeing you as he slips off his sweats, leaving him in nothing but a pair of blue briefs.

Finally, you are left in nothing but your underwear. You eye him over, his body is so fucking nice it makes you feel bad for even standing next to him. His briefs are a light blue, leaving little to the imagination. You can literally see the outline of his—you know what. Is he sporting a semi, right now? You do an up and down of your own body when you realize you have more clothes than him!

“Hey this is unfair!” You whisper, covering your chest with your arm. “I have to strip my bra off and you what, just get to watch?”

“Oh? So I am allowed to watch?” he responds playfully. It’s that same teasing tone you’re still trying to get used to.

“Well, you’re obviously going to see…” You grumble, lowering your arm. “Welp, here goes.”

Taehyung swallows rather hard, his eyes trailing your body pretty shamelessly. You reach in front of you, unhooking the bralette and letting the straps fall off your shoulders before letting the whole thing fall to the ground.

“Uh, okay.” Taehyung clears his throat. “Now our underwear.”

“Right.” You say while reaching for the band of your panties, pulling it back a bit and letting it go, the material slapping against your hips. You swear you see his dick move at that.

“Okay.” Taehyung’s breathing is heavier than before, “On 3? 1…2..”

“3!” you shout in unison.

You both begin stripping away your last piece of clothing. You’re the first to be fully undressed. You let your panties drag down leg by leg until they join the pile of clothes at your feet. It’s not that you’re trying to do this in a sexy manner, but if it comes across sexy—then so be it. Taehyung pauses mid action, his eyes scanning your body again. God, you are starting to get really nervous again. His gaze absolutely thrills you, you can admit that. You’d live a life of torture to have him stare at you like this all the time. You see him lick his lips then shake his head. You didn’t just imagine that right?

“Hurry up.” You plead.

Taehyung finally drags off his briefs. By the looks of it he looks mostly hard, as his cock springs free. Holy Fuck. Your last ex—Ben—was not this…blessed. Taehyung has every right to be as cocky as he wants, he’s earned it. His dick is long in length but he also seems to have girth. How is one man blessed this much? You would have to have your hand wrapped around it—or your lips—to really know how thick he is. Jesus fucking Christ, what are you saying? You think your best excuse is that you are dick deprived. Also…how long have you been staring? You will say long enough by the look Taehyung is giving you. It’s that shit eating grin that just screams he is one cocky bastard.

“Okay,” you clear your throat, forcing yourself to look into Taehyung’s eyes. “Let’s get in the pool.”

“You got the timer?” Taehyung chuckles.

“It’s laying on the ledge.” you point at it, walking closer to the pool. “Ready?” you look up at him, waiting for his response.

“You look beautiful by the way.” He says out of nowhere. “I mean, as always.” He winks.

You blush pretty fucking hard at that, you can feel all the heat rush to your cheeks, lighting you on fire.

“Are you-are you ready or what?” you grumble.

“Always.” He grins, reaching for you hand. “Let’s go.”

You two tip toe into the water, pausing every few seconds to get use to the temperature of the water. You stop once the water reaches your collarbones, you walk towards the wall, lean against it and face forward. You turn the timer on and you both exchange a few words but you remain mostly quiet, You don’t think either of you know what to say. Every minute that passes (about 15 to be exact) has your nerves spiking.

You hear Taehyung sigh deeply as he inches closer towards you. Now why would he do that? He inches so close that your shoulders are touching, he sinks a little further into the water and then surprising you, he rests his head on your shoulder. What the fuck is he doing?

“We can have a foot of space between us.” You remind him awkwardly.

Taehyung remains quiet, you only hear his soft breaths.

“Taehyung?”

“You know how hard it is going to be to get the image of you naked out of my head?” He whispers with a chuckle.

“Don’t start using me as masturbation material.” You joke, your eyes looking out at the water. It’s calm and bright from the lights inside the pool.

“Start? You think you haven’t entered my mind before?” he jokes back. At least you think he’s joking.

“Stop playing.” You laugh awkwardly.

Taehyung is quiet again and you can feel the tension that always visits you two starting to build.

“Do you…have you…have you thought about me before?” you manage to slip out, surprising yourself.

“You’re asking if I’ve—”

“If you’ve thought about me when you have ‘alone’ time’ ya know?”

“Do you think I haven’t?” he lifts his head and stares at you. “y/n…I’m a guy. And you’re kind of the only person I see.”

Oh. It’s not like I see anyone else. His last words repeat in your mind. Of course, that makes sense. He’s stuck with you, of course you’ve entered his mind, probably against his will or whatever.

“I see.” You say softly. You step to the side, getting further from him and he frowns.

You two stand here, barely speaking. Maybe another 20-30 minutes pass when Taehyung dramatically huffs out.

“Listen y/n…about earlier.” Right earlier. When you made a fucking fool of yourself. Asking your friend is he has ever jacked off to you before! Before he can continue you slap a finger over his pouting lips, shushing him.

“Do you really think now is the time?”

“We have time to kill—”

“—okay! So let’s talk about something else!” you happily offer.

But you guess Taehyung isn’t having it, he steps closer and rests his head on your shoulder again, his breathing picking up. Why is he breathing so hard?

“Just hear me out, okay?”

You only stare ahead, exhaling deeply. What to do…maybe there’s no harm in hearing him out, right? Oh wait there is harm! The feeling of fucking rejection. Why does it feel like rejection? You don’t know. Why the fuck you care? You don’t know that either. But he’s fucking sulking, like a baby. You thought you were the baby here? You guess he needs to have a turn every now and then…

“fine.”

“You probably,” he sinks in the water just a little deeper, “hate me, right?” you don’t hate him…”Me, your friend, has had dirty thoughts about you, yada yada,” he closes his eyes.

“ wait what—” This is because he has had dirty thoughts about you?

“So about what I said…I’m sorry…”

“Taehyung it’s fine,” you rush to say in embarrassment, “I don’t know why I asked! Seriously, it was stupid. I crossed a li—”

“Wait why did you ask?” That’s when you freeze. Yeah why did you ask?

“Uh…”

“Why?” he stands up straighter, his head tilted towards you.

“I was just curious Taehyung.” you defend. “It’s not that deep.”

“Curious? About me?” he raises he brow, he pauses while thinking over his words. “Like, sexually?” he finishes, caution in his voice.

Fuck. What did you get yourself into?

“Taehyung…I already said it was stupid. Plus,” you decide to be bold again, “Hearing it was only because I’m the only one here or whatever didn’t do great things for my ego.”

“Wait—” you hear him stifle a chuckle. “That’s what you’re mad about?”

“Well…” you drag out the word with a pout. You don’t mean to be such a baby yet here you are.

“Wow! I thought you were mad because I’ve thought about you impurely, not because it wasn’t a good enough reason why…wow.” He laughs! He’s basically laughing at you!

“Well?”

“Oh my God, y/n. You’re joking right? I can’t just say I have the hots for my friend now can I? That’ll just—”

“Do you?” your voice is much smaller and quieter than you anticipated, like it barely escaped. Taehyung stays quiet for a second too long that it makes you ten times as nervous.

“Are you…” Taehyung looks at you with a look on his face you can’t quite place, “I’m naked in a pool with you right now and I am going crazy. Absolutely crazy.” Taehyung sighs out heavily, a frown taking over his face. “You’re ability to be so naïve just…baffles me.” He admits, defeated.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re a beautiful girl y/n. Of course my mind has wandered. It doesn’t mean I—fuck. It doesn’t mean anything deep or anything like that. But yes, being with you and your fanfuckingtastic tits is giving me some trouble.” He says darkly. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed you checking me out either.” He smirks. “We are human.” He finishes.

A long, deafening silence accompanies you both. Its sitting in the water between your bodies. Just lingering, waiting for one of you to break it in half and drown it in this very pool. But no, it remains. And that person won’t be you. But several minutes have passed by and he is still fucking quiet. Maybe you should be the one to say something? You’re about to you swear , but you hear Taehyung grumble something under his breath.

“What’s that?” you say.

“I said, it’s only fair if I ask too.” Ask what? Oh. Wait. That?

“Ask what?” you ask, pretending you don’t know.

“You know what.”

“Nope.” you say, popping the ‘p’.

“y/n.” “I’m not answering that.”

“Come on.” He leans his face towards your neck, his breaths hitting your wet skin. “It’s only fair.”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?” he pushes on. “Come on y/n, have you thought about me when you get yourself off or not?” he asks, his voice really low. How does he get his voice so deep? Fuck, it sends a shiver down your spine.

“Maybe once or twice I have thought about you too.” You admit, feeling a rush of adrenaline as the words leave your mouth.

“Once or twice?” he repeats lowly, “What did you think about?” his words crawl on the side of your neck as they leave his mouth.

“I’m not answering that.”

“I want you to tell me.” He sounds so breathless while being so demanding.

“Nope.”

“You’re no fun.” He chuckles. “Aren’t you curious about what I think about?”

“Not really.” You lie. “Don’t worry about my imagination. It’s the only action I’m getting anyway.” You laugh.

“When’s the last time you had sex y/n? Please tell me it wasn’t with your ex…”

“Yeah it was.” You admit and Taehyung pushes his head back, not liking you admission.

“Why haven’t you?” he asks.

“I felt so betrayed Taehyung…it’s sort of hard to trust anyone after that.” You sigh, “He hurt me bad. I’m…”

“You’re what?”

“I just don’t feel comfortable.” You say softly, “I don’t think I will for a while.”

“I see…I’m so sorry. I wish that didn’t happen to you.”

“It’s in the past now.”

Ben holds you close as he comes, his hands leaving behind their marks on your body from how tightly he holds you.

“Fuck yes.” He groans, “Did you come?” he asks quickly, breathing hard into your neck.

“It’s okay.” You sigh out, “As long as you feel good.”

“I felt amazing honey.” He kisses the side of your neck over and over. “Shit, we gotta get going. We’ll be late for work.”

“Do we really have to take separate cars?” you whine.

“Just for now babe.” He promises, lifting himself off your body, leaving your pussy aching for more.

“Okay…”

“He look so handsome today as usual…” you hear Layla talking to some of the other girls. “I’m telling you…he’s going to ask me out. He’s been eyeing me lately and complimenting me.” She gushes, catching your interest.

“Who?” you ask, setting your belongings down on your desk.

Layla turns to face you, waves her hand and smiles.

“Ben.”

Ben? Like your Ben? Her boss Ben?

“Ben who?” you blink at her and the other girls laugh.

“Obviously the only Ben we know!” Layla giggles and you feel your chest tighten.

“You think he’s going to ask you out?”

“Yes girl! He comes to my desk a few times day, calls me gorgeous, so on and so forth.” Layla says quietly so only you girls can hear. You feel your heart drop.

“I don’t think so.” You speak up. “Ben wouldn’t. He’s already seeing someone.”

“Oh really? Who?” Layla scrunches her brows together, “Because—”

“Me.” You blurt. “He and I are…”

The other girls stop their giggling and look at you with shocked eyes.

“There’s no way.” One of them says.

“y/n, are you serious?” Layla blushes, feeling a little embarrassed now.

“Yes, for months now.” you admit. “But we weren’t telling anyone…yet.”

“Wow! I can’t believe this!” another girl says, her hand coming to her mouth.

You then in a hush hush voice tell the group of girls yours and Bens story. You tell them how he pursued you, you finally agreed and how you two have been dating for over 6 months. They gush and gasp and giggle. It feels good to finally tell people, you think.

But unfortunately for you, it wasn’t good at all.

“y/n?” Taehyung knocks you out of your daze. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Fine.” You sigh, feeling weak. “I’m okay.”

Taehyung looks at you with pity, his eyes full of it. He stands tall and floats until he’s standing in front of you.

“I’m going to hug you.” He states calmly, “I really need to hug you.”

“Taehyung…” you step back until your back hits the ledge. “Now isn’t really appropriate.”

“I don’t care. I’ve already seen you naked.” He says nonchalantly. “C’mere.” He opens his arms wide for you and you shake your head.

“I said, c’mere.” He inches closer and closer. “Or I’m coming to you.”

“Taehyung.” You whine, but you let him get closer to you.

His wet arms reach out for you, he’s gripping your shoulders first before his hands easily slide down your arms until they’re under water holding on to your waist.

“C’mere.” He repeats. And you slowly inch closer towards him, your arms hesitantly circling around his middle. And then he’s pulling you in to his chest…he sighs when he feels your budding nipples graze his skin, he sighs when he feels the fullness of your breasts being pushed into him, he sighs when he feels you.

You release a long breath as you hug him, maybe you needed this. This type of human contact. You pull back and look up into Taehyung’s dark eyes, he’s already gazing at you.

“Thanks.” You mumble.

“I think of you because you’re cool. And really pretty.”

“Huh?” Why is Taehyung suddenly complimenting you?

“When I’m—you know. I think of you because you’re cool and really pretty. I could think of anyone ya know? That’s how an imagination works. But I still think about you.”

You’re sure your face is a dark crimson, with how hard you are blushing. How are you supposed to take this new information?

“W-Well,” You find it hard to look into his eyes. “I guess, same.”

“Because I’m pretty?” his tone is lighter all the sudden, you roll your eyes.

“What do you think? Timer should be going on any minute now.” Taehyung throws a glance over his shoulder towards the timer.

“Hmm…” You turn, reaching for the timer, your wet hands getting ahold of it. “Less than 5 minutes.” You read it.

“Oh.” He sings, “If you have a secret, share it now!” Taehyung chuckles into the water, his lips creating bubbles on the surface.

“You want to know even more about me?” You stand a little taller, the water reaching the tops of your breasts. You see Taehyung’s eyes linger for a second before meeting your eyes again. “If you wanna know anything, just ask.” You reach your arms over your head, releasing a yawn.

“Okay…” He places his fingers on his chin, “It’s about me though.” He stops, his fingers dragging down his neck. “Ah, never mind.”

“What?”

“No, it’s weird.”

“Aren’t we passed weird?” you giggle.

“No, it’s really weird.” He sighs out, sinking down into the water until his head is fully under.

You watch as he rises back up, the water cascading down his golden skin, the water from his hair dripping onto his shoulders.

A few moments pass, Taehyung stands here thinking to himself while you just shamelessly watch. You watch as he chews on the inside of his cheek, his eyes upward, scanning the stars. He hums some tune to himself, deep in thought. Honestly, you love when he does this. He looks so…good. Not in a sexual way, you swear. He just looks so him. So Taehyung. He goes from chewing on his cheek to his bottom lip, his teeth digging into the plump flesh. You gulp, God he has no idea how good he looks like this.

“Well?” You ask impatiently. Trying to wave away any more of those thoughts you were just having.

Taehyung releases his bottom lip from his teeth as his lips form into a pout, his eyes closing.

“I’m thinking…”

“Less thinking, more asking.” You feel way too curious about whatever it is he wants to say. And the minutes are passing you by.

Taehyung opens one eye to look at you, he exhales, and faces you.

“Does it sound like I’m in love with Hana?” he says quietly.

“W-What? You’ve only really brought her up once…”

“But when I talked about her did it seem like I have deep feelings for her?”

“She thinks I only like the idea of her” Taehyung mumbles to Jimin and Namjoon. “She doesn’t think I like her as much as I say? Which is so stupid!”

“Isn’t she right though?” Jimin asks with a frown, “You only ever talk about how pretty she is…”

“Jimin means you don’t really have that much in common with her, do you?” Namjoon questions softly. “You don’t…you don’t seem as into as you have been in the past. Are you sure you actually like her?”

Taehyung stares at his friends in disbelief, not believing his ears for one second.

“What are you guys talking about? I fucking like her.” He grits out.

“Are you sure you aren’t just lonely—”

“I don’t want to hear this.” Taehyung stands up from the couch, “I’m going to go see her.”

Taehyung makes it to Hana’s apartment but her roommate answers the door and frowns when she sees Taehyung,

“Yes?”

“Uh, I’m here to see Hana.” He gestures inside the apartment.

“Right…” the roommate stands off to the side and lets Taehyung in. “She’s in her room.”

Taehyung walks through the apartment and down the hall until he’s knocking on Hana’s door. She opens it quickly, hugging him and pulling him inside.

“Hey you.” She smiles at Taehyung and he smiles back with his teeth.

“Hi.”

“What brings you here?”

“Just came to hang out, maybe watch a movie?” Taehyung sways from side to side, trying to not make this awkward.

“Sure, you can choose the movie.” She goes to her desk, grabs her lap top and gestures towards her bed. “We can watch in my bed.” She says shyly.

“G-Good idea.”

“So how did you like it?” Taehyung asks excitedly. ‘Castaway on the Moon’ just finished and he is so happy he got to show her his favorite movie.

“Honestly?” she chuckles awkwardly, “I didn’t really like it.” She admits. “it was weird.”

“It’s not weird! It’s amazing,” he pouts and she giggles.

He does feel really disappointed that she doesn’t like his favorite movie…is that a red flag? No, he’s just being dramatic, he thinks.

“Next time I’ll choose the movie.” Hana cuddles closer to Taehyung. “Okay?”

“Sure.”

“Taehyung…” you begin, “Where is this coming from?”

“She doesn’t think—my friends too—don’t think we have a lot of chemistry. That I’m forcing myself to like her, but that’s not true! But sometimes I feel confused. And I thought I could get an outside opinion.” He admits, “But this was stupid you don’t have to answer.”

You can tell him you believe in his feelings or you can tell him you don’t think he’s even talked about her enough that you take his feelings seriously. But will that hurt him?

“I—”

Beep beep beep beep beep beep.

The fire place is turned on, creating a safe and cozy atmosphere. The gas lit flames burn a hole in the tension that fills the room. What sort of tension? Not sure.

Taehyung and you are sat comfortably on the sofa, sitting with crossed legs facing one another, your knees just barely touching. A bowl of popcorn rests between you and blankets wrapped around your bodies. Separate blankets, of course.

Taehyung and you have decided to move the party inside (with clothes: on) and continue talking.

The ringing of the timer didn’t completely ruin your conversation only delaying it.

“And I don’t know,” he takes a handful of popcorn and stuffs it in his mouth. “I think we would make a cute couple.”

“Yeah but like I asked, what sorts of things do you two talk about? Not if you guys are a cute couple.”

“We talk.” He states.

“Okay…about?”

“Stuff.”

“You aren’t helping your case.” You sigh out, biting your lip. “I want to believe in your feelings Taehyung but…”

“I know.” He cuts you off, “I know.”

“So why are you forcing it?” you reach for some popcorn yourself, “Why do you want to like her so bad?”

“I don’t know….” He admits softly, “I really don’t know.”

“You’re unsure of your feelings.” You say bluntly. “That’s what it seems like.”

“Maybe I am.” He wraps the blanket around his shoulders tighter. “I’m like you…I don’t know what love is.”

“And just like me, you’ll find it someday.” You promise him with a sweet smile. “Right?”

“You will for sure.” He breathes out, “I think I’m a ….”

“A?”

“God, I don’t even want to say it.” He throws his head in his hands. “But I think I am a hopeless romantic.”

“I just want some cute love story with a cute girl. And Hana is perfect.”

“But does she thrill you? Challenge you? Make you laugh?”

“She’s…” fuck, he doesn’t even know. Does he even know Hana that well?

“Hey y/n…” Taehyung looks up at you, his eyes finding yours and you shrink in your spot.

“Yes?”

“Can we watch my favorite movie? I’m curious what you might think about it.” He gazes at you and you nod your head slowly.

“Sure Taehyung.”

“Also, you can call me Tae.”

“Holy fuck.” You sob into your hands. “The fucking noodles.”

Taehyung looks over at you with a soft smile as he has his own tears falling down his face.

“I know right?”

“He finally felt like he had purpose Tae,” you look at him with a pathetic scrunched up face, tears still leaving your eyes.

“EXACTLY!” Taehyung wails, “EXACTLY!”

“This movie was amazing, and how everything turned out...wow…and how she…and he…my goodness. I’m still crying.”

“I told you!! I am so glad you enjoyed it.” He moves closer to you on the sofa without thinking.

“Only lame people wouldn’t like this movie!” you basically yell out and Taehyung scoots even closer, his shoulder bumping yours. But you barely notice, still too invested in the movie.

“Yeah.” He agrees with a smile. “You really must be my soulmate.” He jokes with an awkward smile. “No one else really likes this movie.”

“Ha-Ha.” You roll your eyes, “But anyway, that’s crazy since it was so good.”

“Stop praising it or I’ll have to marry you.” He jokes again and you start turning a rosy pink.

“Stop.” You whine, swatting his shoulder.

“Let’s call it a night, yeah?”

You and Taehyung clean up the kitchen and living room and head upstairs for the night, he walks you to your bedroom door and lingers.

“Tonight was crazy. I saw you naked.” He brings up the request and you go redder than red.

“We can literally never talk about it again…”

“Am I allowed to think about it at least?” he winks, his voice low and making you feel tense.

“Goodnight Taehyung.”

~~~~~~~~

Month 6

Today is one of those days…Taehyung is in a bad mood and you’re being a brat. He hates how much you’ve been teasing him today…he is sorting through his feelings for Hana but you insist on walking around with small shorts and low cut tank tops, claiming it’s ‘hot’. He finally has you cornered though, he’s finally had enough. He’s got you pushed up against a wall, his face so close that your breaths mingle with one another.

“You’re really pushing me today…” Taehyung leans closer, his warm breath fanning over your face. “Today’s not the day y/n.” he warns.

“How am I pushing you? I’m literally not doing anything.” You jut your bottom lip out and look to the side.

“You’re being…such a fucking tease.” He decides to say, “Which is giving me a real headache.” He leans down, his arms on either side of your body.

“So I give you a headache?” Your eyes look up into his and you smirk. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“You are real annoying, you know that?” he can’t help but chuckle, but then he’s exhaling a deep breath and rolling his eyes. “Ask for forgiveness.”

“Ask for forgiveness?” you scoff. “Seriously? And what am I asking forgiveness for?”

“You’re lucky I’m not telling you to beg.”

“Beg?” you scoff again. “Who do you think you—”

“y/n.” his dark eyes gaze into yours. His hand slides down the wall and then it’s at your waist. He pulls you in and leans his head down closer to your face, you feel the lump in your throat grow as you ty to swallow it down.

“Y-Yes?”

“Ask for forgiveness.” He tells you again, this time much more softly.

“And if I don’t?” You stare up at him and he chuckles.

“Do you really want to find out?” his gaze doesn’t waver as he looks at you…the way he stares at you makes you feel bare in front of him, like he’s stripping you of your clothes, of your skin, everything.

“And if I do?” you whisper. “What happens if I do?”

Taehyung narrows his eyes at you as he licks his lips repeatedly…you’re really testing him aren’t you? He can’t tell if you’re toying with him because of the cameras or if it’s because you’re a brat.

“y/n.” he says your name like the sound of a slow breath. It feels intimate, the way he calls out for you. You can’t help but gulp as you blink up at him.

“Y-Yes?”

“You want to beg, don’t you?” he smirks, he pokes his tongue out as he eyes you. You can see the amusement in his eyes. “You want to…” the words are dying on his tongue because what can he say? Everything he wants to say would probably be deemed as inappropriate.

“I want to what?” you tilt your head up, your eyes scanning the entirety of his face and he leans further into your space.

“Just do as I say, tell me you’re sorry and we can move on.”

“Do as you say?” you lean back until your head is lightly hitting the wall, “You think I would really listen to you?”

“Such a brat.” His hand doesn’t let go of your waist as he leans back as well. “Why do I deal with this? And yes,” he rolls his head back. “I think you would very much enjoy listening to me.” He pauses and bites his lip. “If this company really thinks we’re a match made in heaven then I am sure you can assume what I mean.”

You silently gasp, a blush painting itself brightly on your cheeks.

“Ah,” he leans in again, “So you do know what I mean.”

“Taehyung,” you mumble, “Sometimes your flirting for the camera is too much.” You whisper quiet enough the cameras can’t hear.

Taehyung leans down until his mouth is at the shell of your ear and you can hear the smirk.

“Who says it’s for the cameras?” he leans away from you again, he finally drops his hand from your waist and is about to turn to leave when your hand flies to his shirt.

“Wait.” You blurt out, “I’ll…” you look off to the side. “I’ll say sorry”

“Oh?” Taehyung looks amused to say the least, “Go ahead, then.”

“Only if you tell me what’s wrong today.”

“It’s nothing.”

Your hand goes from the middle of his shirt to his shoulder and you look up at him with big, doe eyes as he blinks down at you over and over.

“What?” he whispers.

“Please.” You whisper back, “I’ll be good,” you promise in a low voice.

Taehyung feels his chest get warm, the heat traveling from there to his toes. He looks at you with his serious expression and softens.

“You are good.” He breathes out. His gaze intense as he stares into your eyes.

“Then…” you pause. Taehyung keeps his eyes on your eyes until he’s not. His eyes slowly travel down your face until he’s staring at your lips. He notices how plump they look, how your tongue darts out to wet them. He feels himself being drawn closer to you, leaning in further and further.

“…Taehyung.” You say breathlessly and Taehyung blinks repeatedly, clearing his throat as he leans back again.

“Fine, don’t apologize. Brat.” And he’s stepping away from you and you watch his back as he walks away.

Taehyung. Is. Such. A. tease. And it drives you absolutely insane. You’re sure the company that watches you is having the times of their lives as you suffer. Why does he have to go this far? It only makes you want to challenge him and go even further yourself. There was a moment, right? Where he acted like he was going to kiss you? Of course he wouldn’t actually do that. This is just for show but god, it still drives you nuts.

Taehyung rushes to his bedroom, slamming the door shut as he rests against it. What the hell is wrong with him? He’s just frustrated. He misses Hana. But why do you have to be so infuriating and you know, hot. And it makes him angry. He wasn’t actually going to kiss you, of course. But there was a moment of strange tension that he…he can’t describe. Taehyung slides down the door, falling to the ground. He remembers his first kiss with Hana, it was sweet and nice but like, he doesn’t remember it being intense not like how it feels when he gets close to you.

“Taehyung!” Hana giggles as she pats his back as she’s thrown over his shoulder. “Put me down!”

“Never!” Taehyung laughs just as much as he runs around in circles. “Ugh, so heavy though.” He jokes.

“Hey!” Hana hits his back, “Come on, put me down.” Her giggles softly relax and he’s setting her down back on the ground, her feet finally planted on the ground as she keeps her arms loosely thrown around his neck.

“You really love carrying me.”

“Holding you is fun.” He smiles, “And you’re not actually heavy. Actually you weigh nothing.”

“Yeah, right.” She playfully rolls her eyes.

“So.” Taehyung chuckles awkwardly, looking into Hana’s eyes.

“So…” she steps closer to him, tightening her hold around her neck. “We’ve been hanging out a lot …” she flutters her lashes, “And..”

“And?”

“I kind of want you to kiss me.”

“Oh.” Taehyung’s eyes widen. He was not expecting that. He smiles at her and nods his head. “Yeah, I can do that.” He teases, leaning in until his lips are against hers. He pulls back but she pushes herself forward to kiss him more and he sighs in her mouth, loving the feel of her lips.

“We should do that more often.” Taehyung breathes out and Hana giggles.

Taehyung groans into his hands, recalling his memories. He does miss Hana but he feels like every time he thinks of her…he somehow is also thinking about you too. But it’s not like he’s thinking of you like that but yeah, you’re on his mind. And he’s got to chill out. He stands up from the floor and walks to his bed, throwing himself on it with a bounce. He’s still so frustrated. He recalls dinner yesterday, how he…

“I’m staring at you because you have sauce on your lips.” Taehyung says from across the dining room table.

“Should I get it for you?” he teases, standing up from his chair, the sound of it screeching against the floor makes you flinch.

“No, no.” you shake your head, “I can do it myself.”

“What if I want to help you though?” Taehyung tilts his head with innocent eyes. “I’ll clean you up.”

“Tae—”

Taehyung walks to your side of the table and bends down until his face is level with your face, he smiles at you and raises his thumb up to your lips. His thumb brushes across your bottom lip slowly, the heat of his finger making you sigh out. He leans in closer as he finishes wiping the sauce off your mouth. When he finishes he takes a moment to look into your eyes like he’s searching them for something. He’s not sure what though. You feel yourself being hypnotized by his gaze, you, yourself stare back at him just as deeply…you think he’s going to lean away any second but instead he brings his hand between your faces and brings his thumb to his mouth. His thumb pushes past his lips and he’s licking it clean, the action purposely agonizingly slow.

“There. Got it.” He breathes out, “All clean.”

Your eyes widen just the slightest…he’s a tease. A fucking tease.

Taehyung’s eyes light up in amusement when he watches how you flush under his hard stare and he starts laughing.

“W-What?” you spit out, your embarrassment has you stabbing your food with your fork. “What’s funny?”

“You.” He says with a grin, the air is starting to thin out as he laughs. “You make me laugh.”

“Glad I can entertain.” You roll your eyes.

You’re so…fuck, you’re so sexy. Taehyung has been wanting to admit that for a while, but god, he has to really fucking control himself. But he’s trying to keep these thoughts at bay because he needs to figure out what he’s doing about Hana.

He lays here thinking of all the moments he has flirted with you for the camera, he groans into his pillow when he has the hardest realization. Is it really for the camera? The tension between you two is so fucking thick, the air is suffocating, making it hard to breathe. The intensity…the thrill. You are the only one who makes him feel like his world is burning with a passionate fire. Hana is nice but you? You’re you and he’s realizing how much he likes that.

He’s realizing a lot. It’s been 6 months and he thinks he is ready to admit that this is beyond what he signed up for. He signed on to get along, but this? This is a whole other journey he’s going on.

Taehyung sits up in bed, his face gone pale as he makes his realizations. His mouth hangs open as his mind races. Does Taehyung just want to fuck you? Or….does Taehyung like you?

Suddenly, there’s soft knocking on his bedroom door, his head snaps in that direction and he knows it’s you—well duh, who else would it be? He scrambles off the bed and he’s opening the door. You’re wearing yoga pants and a long sleeve shirt now with an innocent smile on your face.

“I turned the AC down.” You say. “Now I won’t make your life hard by wearing hardly any clothes.” You’re teasing him and he’s going wild for it.

“Oh really?” he breathes out, “Are you going to say sorry?” he teases back, his breathing picking up.

“Should I ask for forgiveness?” you mock him and he raises a brow at you.

“I’m going to make you beg y/n.” he says lowly, “Keep this up and I’ll be carrying you to the other bedroom.”

Your smile drops at his words. What does he mean by that? He’s taking the acting too far…

“You ever begged before baby?” He walks closer to you, making you uneasy. You step backward further into the hall and sigh out.

“Maybe.”

“From now on, you’ll only ever do it for me.” He says so low, that you barely hear him. But you do hear him and you shudder.

“Taehyung.” You warn softly, you push him by the shoulders, backing him into his bedroom. Once inside you close the door and look at him expectantly.

“What?” he rolls his eyes at you.

“You’re being too much…” you whisper. “But fuck, I gotta admit you’re good.” You breathe out roughly, “It almost feels real.”

“I wasn’t kidding earlier.” Taehyung walks towards you, his hand reaching out to touch the ends of you hair, “Who says this is for the cameras?”

You glance up at him, clearly confused.

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh y/n.” Taehyung feels his heart start to race. “This just got a lot more interesting.”

#bts #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #taehyung fanfic #the island chapter 4

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sunookkii · 3 years

Note

hii can i get an E2L with jake please <3

YESSS!! Thank you so much for requesting,, I really hope you like it 😋

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.enhypen imagine ˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

Jake Sim x Reader

Genre : enemies to lovers

Warnings : some swear words here and there.. a little scene where main character almost gets assaulted at night

Word Count : 2.4K

Requested : yess <3

(Warning : It kind of sucks, I’m not really sure if this is e2l PLEASE I TRIED MY BEST ANYWAYS)

❀ You and Jake were enemies since birth, you two supposedly hated each other’s guts since diapers. It didn’t help that your parents were really good childhood friends and would always hang out together forcing you and Jake to try and get along. Though it didn’t work.. Jake would always picked on you, weather it was calling you stupid nicknames, tripping you making you fall and land on your face or bothering you every time he had a chance. You were always his main target. To him your reaction to his mean jokes were always so entertaining. You absolutely hated him, how cocky he was, how annoying he was, how handsome, charming he was, and how he was always better than you at everything. And the list goes on.

“I hate history why do we even need to learn it” you thought to yourself. Tapping your pencil back and forth not paying attention to the lesson that was taught on the board. Out of no where you feel pieces of paper being thrown at you from behind,,,, it was from Jake. You thought that he would stop throwing pieces of paper at you after awhile but oh you were wrong. Jake laughing silently to himself thought he was sooo funny. He kept throwing pieces of paper at you until you finally had enough, you turned your body facing him and started giving him a whole lecture forgetting that there was a lesson being taught right at this very moment.

“JAKE CAN YOU STOP, YOU’RE BEING SO FUCKING ANNOYING AND IMMATURE!”

You yelled at him a bit too loud causing the teacher to hear,,”Ms. l/n and Mr. Sim OFFICE NOW!”

You groaned at your teachers words, this is all Jakes fault, if he hadn’t bothered you, you two wouldn’t have been in trouble. At this point all the teachers knew you weren’t really fond of Jake, because every week you two would always be in detention together after school.

J: “This is your fault” you turn around to look at Jake, furious, body filled with hatred and anger

Y/n: “ARE YOU SERIOUS YOU WERE THE ONE THROWING PAPER AT ME, (you breathe in and out trying to calm yourself down) if you hadn’t thrown those stupid pieces of paper i could’ve been at home right now.”

J: “woah woah calm down..” he said, that didn’t help one bit

You decided to ignore him this once because there really is no winning when arguing with him. You two finally arrive at the principals office waiting for yet again another detention slip.

P: “I heard that there was a bit of a ruckus, during history class? Care to explain why you used such vulgar language during school?”

Y/n: “it wasn’t my fault sir, Jake was bothering me and wouldn’t stop.”

P: “Mr. Sim is that true?”

J: “no sir I was simply minding my own business, until she started yelling at me for no reason.” He lied through his teeth,

Y/n: “SIR HE’S LYING” you pointed at the boy smirking at you knowing what he just did.

P: “well it seems to me that there’s a little bit of a problem and someone is lying. Whoever is telling the truth can be excused from detention”

J and y/n : “sir I’M telling the truth”

P: “Well since no one is stepping up I guess I’ll have to put both of you into detention, here is the detention slip for both of you. Remember after school until 5, if you miss it you’ll get detention for the whole week. Got it?!

Y/n: “*sigh, yes sir”

———

Y/n’s POV :

The bell rung indicating that school was over, well not for me at least. I still have to show up for detention since well you know... I arrived at the detention room that read room 206. Walking towards an empty desk, I sat on it and lied my head down.

J: “so how was your dayy :)” knowing that this was all his fault he had the audacity to ask me how my day was??

Y/n: “shut up.”

J: “ooh someone’s grumpy cuz they got detention” he laughs annoyingly at me.

Y/n: “you’re in detention too idiot.”

J: “at least I’m not alone stupid” he rolls his eyes moving away and pushing back his dark brown fluffy hair,,

Why was that kind of attractive? Wtf why am I thinking like that get out of my head!

———

❀ The bell finally rung and we were dismissed, it felt like ages~

Walking towards the the exit I see myself accidentally walking besides Jake. I quickly realized and distanced myself, the sky outside was pitch black. Forgetting that I’m terrified of the dark I quickly walk home by myself so I don’t have to be outside any longer. As I was walking towards the direction of my house I sense someone following me, my pace got faster as I was scared what could happen this late at night. I ran quicker and quicker then all of a sudden I feel someone grabbing my wrist hugging me pushing me towards the corner of a house. I try and let out a loud scream right before they cover my mouth with their hand. I open my eyes only to see Jake.

J: “boo!”

I push him off, why is he holding me in his arms like that?

Y/n: “wtf Jake! Why are you following me?” I said kind of mad that he scared me thinking I was being followed.

J: “some guy was following you when you left school and I didn’t want anything to happen to you so I kinda followed you home..”

Y/n: “oh well you can go now... I don’t need your help..” feeling a little bit awkward that he kind of cared..

J: “are you stupid or something?” He said angrily “you should take better care of yourself! The man could’ve done something to you if I hadn’t been there!”

I had no words to say, how could someone I hate so much care for me? I guess he isn’t bad after all.. but my stubborn self obviously had to snap back,

Y/n: “IDC I DIDN’T ASK FOR YOU TO FOLLOW ME, WHY DO YOU EVEN CARE IF I GET HURT OR NOT!”

J: “I DON’T, YOU KNOW WHAT! WALK HOME BY YOURSELF”

Y/n: “YOU KNOW WHAT, I WILL!”

❀ ❀ ❀

I’m not gonna lie to you I kind of regret saying that to him, it’s not really fun walking home alone when it’s pitch black outside. It was all silent walking home untill I heard something walking towards me, I assumed it was Jake so I turned around getting ready to yell at him, but to my luck it was a random man who came walking up towards me, he came over touching my waist giving me a creepy look, making me feel uncomfortable.

Stranger: “hey baby girl you look beautiful tonight, you want to come over to my house? We can have lots of fun” He winks creepily at me. Does he not know I’m a minor?? Gross.

Y/n: “get away from me!” I tell him as I walk faster pushing him off of me, he quickly grabbed my wrist and started touching me “you’re not going anywhere!”

I start to panic, not knowing what to do, I wish Jake was here I thought to myself as I’m about to cry feeling hopeless not knowing what I could do. Suddenly I hear something running towards me, a tall figure with dark brown hair, is it Jake? The familiar figure punched the creepy man leading him to fall on the ground groaning. He grabed my wrist “lets run!” He held my hand tight as we were running, his hand was soft and fit perfectly in mine.

J: “are you okay” he looks at my scared face holding my cheeks in his palms. I nod feeling a hard lump in my throat as I soon burst out crying tears. “It’s okay, it’s okay I’m here you don’t have to be scared anymore” he held me tight in his arms. Embracing me, his arms and chest were so warm something I really needed. Never in a million years did I think I’d be hugging my enemy like this. I continue crying in his chest as he strokes my hair in reassurance that I’m safe. “Y/n you’re so stupid, you could’ve gotten seriously hurt.”

y/n: “I’m sorry” I continue crying

———

He walked me home safely still holding my hand, I look at him weirdly looking at him then looking back at our intertwined hands.

J: “oh right.. sorry”

Y/n: “how did you know I was in danger?”

J: “oh well it’s kind of silly actually, I was mad at you so I decided to do a mean prank to get you scared, but then that’s when I heard you scream so I ran up to you”

Y/n: “oh, well thanks for helping me I guess...” I said looking down at my fingers feeling ashamed.

J: “uhm anyways I’m gonna go home now.. gn loser” he said before he ran off putting his hood back on.

“Goodnight” I whisper, thankful that jake was there with me that night.

———

❀ The next day of school I went to my assigned seat which was in front of Jake. Then suddenly a non familiar boy comes inside the class, was he new?

T: “Class! Listen up.. we have a new student attending our school, and I would like for you to pay attention as he’s about to introduce himself.”

S: “Hi! My name is Sunoo Kim! Please take good care of me :)”

Who’s this new guys Sunoo he’s kind of cute....

T: “Sunoo you can sit next to y/n over there, y/n please raise up your hand so he knows who you are!”

S: “Hi!”

Y/n: “Hi I’m y/n, and your Sunoo right?”

S: “yess.”

The cute boy gave me a cute cheeky smile, I could tell we’ll become good friends. Class was over and it was time for lunch, I could tell that Sunoo didn’t have much friends since he’s new, so I asked him to have lunch with me. Sunoo and I talked about everything! It felt like we knew each other for so long, as if we were best friends. Jake passed by us giving us a weird glare. That’s weird I thought, he never usually glared at me like that, well I mean we’re enemies but he usually gives me a stupid teasing smile,, hmm that’s odd maybe he’s just in a bad mood.

———

School was over and it was time to walk home,

S: “Y/n!! Let’s walk home together, where do you live?”

Y/n: “oh I live near this block,, what about you?”

S: “OH really??!! I live here too, we live close to each other, lets walk home together sometimes!”

He’s so cute, charming and extroverted, we just got to know each other but I feel like we’ve been friends forever, is that weird?

Y/n: ok!

———

❀ Many weeks have passed and me and Sunoo became really close friends! Though Jake has been acting strange lately..

School ended quickly today,, Sunoo suddenly called out my name

S: “lets wak home together today!”

Y/n: “alright su-“

As I was about to finish my sentance Jake came over and grabed my hand intertwining his into mine.

J: “ahh sorry Sunoo she can’t, y/n’s mom told me to walk her home today.”

R: “ahh ok.. bye y/n I’ll see you next week!”

Y/n: “wait but but!” I wasnt able to finish my sentance since Jake already pulled me to the opposite direction. His hands... were in mine? Why am I feeling all sorts of butterflies in my stomach.. this is new, I never felt this way towards Jake before. It was kind of quiet during the walk home until the tension was broken and Jake said something as he stopped walking.

J: “lets go to the ice cream shop, just you and me.”

Y/n: “dont we hate eachother?”

J: “just shut up and come with me.”

He grabbed my hand forcing me to follow,

Y/n: “okay but you’re paying”

We arrived at the pretty ice cream place which was bright and pretty chilly. Jake went to go order the Ice creams while I looked around since I never been here before.

J: “two chocolate ice creams please”

He’s always been so polite towards everyone but me, his fluffy dark brown hair right about his eyes. He’s so cute.. why am I feeling this way towards him? We’re supposed to hate each other but here I am falling head over heels for Jake? No it can’t be, do I have a crush on him? How did he know I liked chocolate ice cream?We sat down at the near table, the place was super cute, perfect for a date. WAIT IS THIS A DATE?

Y/n: “Jake why did you take me here?”

J: “I needed to tell you something but finish your ice cream first”

Y/n: “oh uhm ok-“

J: “AW FUCK IT I CANT WAIT ANY LONGER Y/NILIKEYOU!”

I stool there frozen like a popsicle, did my enemy Jake just confess to me, this seems crazy but I think I like him too.

Y/n: “Jake I like you too..”

J: “iknowyoumightnotlikemebecausethewayItreatedyouwhenwewerekidsbutpleasegivemeachanceisweari’ll-“

Y/n: “JAKE! I said I like you too”

J: “what- really you mean it? You like me back” it was cute seeing him nervous because of me.

Y/n: “yeah I guess you’re not so bad..” I said teasingly

His worried face quickly turned into a big smile, we quickly finished the ice cream and walked outside of the ice cream place side by side. He stoped walking and looked at me.

J: “you have something on your lips” he said pointing

Y/n: “what where” I rubbed my mouth looking for the leftover ice cream”

J: “here” he grabbed my face leaning in for a deep kiss. “There all gone!” he runs away laughing like a little kid.

Y/n: “JAKE SIM I DIDN’T GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO STEAL A KISS FROM ME!” I said chasing him, I guess you could say our relationship turned into an enemies to lovers type of thing.

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ohheyitsokay · 3 years

Text

first base

part 6 of the ‘hey batter batter’ series

pairing: Francisco Morales (Frankie, Catfish) x reader

wordcount: 2.7k

warnings: strong language, illusions to part trauma

summary: it’s a Triple Frontier Baseball AU! Trust me, you don’t need ot know anything about baseball.

In this chapter, the guys start to explain baseball both as a game and a career to the reader, and Frankie takes a step in the right direction instead of running.

It was Francisco’s idea for someone to walk you to your car, but Will ended up doing it, his mind too lost in thought for his usually sharp eyes to see. They missed the drop in Frankie’s shoulders, the tilt of Santi's head, and the way that even after the goodbyes, your fingers waved an extra wave at just one of them before you turned away. He didn’t say anything as you walked and thanked him again for inviting you to his grandparents with everyone, and apologized for James’ absence.

“Thank you,” he said finally, his accent was more pronounced and you almost thought he was going to shake your hand before he pulled you into a rough hug.

“What for?” the Millers, you were learning, were physically affectionate, but there was something in the way he did it, something in the way he said it that made you pause.

“The other night, and,” he shrugged, for once not quite knowing what to say, and you could almost see the words swimming behind his deep blue eyes. With a content sigh, you perched on the edge of the hood of your car, settling in for a real conversation with William Miller. Ironhead, they told you, a golden top athlete and responsible older of Ben, and the whole group. There was a huff, as he acknowledged it, smiling a little bit.

“You guys protect him,” you offered, and he crossed his arms, leaning next to you. Will blinked, then uncrossed his arms again.

“Yeah,” his hands moved along the grooves of the car, as if he was concentrated on being open with you. “We have to.”

“You’re his big brother.”

You didn’t ask, but they’re not? but it was implied. The sturdy first-baseman stilled, looking right at you. If this had been less of a conversation, it would have occurred to him that the prolonged time alone with you was creating a curiosity what was killing his friend inside.

“We were all him, a few years ago,” his eyes felt like they were boring into yours, intense in a comforting way, like he would ask permission before peering into your soul. “High on attention, moving too fast to think, caught up in the parties and girls and... all of it.”

Nodding while he talked, you muttered not relatable underneath his voice and he half smiled as he continued. Still, you understood what he was getting at.

“It got bad,” he said it like he had rehearsed it, or maybe had said it before. “Redfly wants it back, bigger, better. He could do it, too, if…” Will talked with his hands just enough to wave off the end of that sentence. “We all made mistakes. Did shit we aren’t proud of. Still sort of recovering from that. Just… don’t like seeing him make some of the same choices.”

“He’s got a big heart,” you said, asking not for confirmation, but out of curiosity. He grinned, breaking his frustrated reminiscing and nodded.

“You’re good for him,” he pushed off the car, a signal that he said what he needed to. Another hug, and at the same time as you said, “I like you guys,” you could’ve sworn he added, “For all of us.”

Pulling back, you stared, but he didn’t repeat himself, and you finished your goodbyes. The drive home, you forgot to turn on the radio the whole drive, thinking.

There was a place for you, with those five boys, it wasn’t a crazy once-in-a-lifetime thing. And maybe it was time to stop fighting it.

There was nothing about Francisco that you didn’t like – except he spilled your secret.

I actually don’t know anything about baseball.

Frankie was mad he shared it, too. His daydreams of having you pressed against his side – or better yet, in his lap – as he explained the beautiful game to you dwindled before his eyes. His friends were yelling, indignant, and excited. Already the evening was being planned, to watch a game and explain it to you and with resignation he knew they were all looking forward to it.

So, two evenings later, he found himself trying to get a seat next to yours on the little couch of Santi's rental. You brought snacks and a recording James had given you, and were wearing an old team tshirt that made his heart flip over in his chest.

It was silly, how eagerly they all waited for the recording to start, just boys excited to strut their stuff and show off.

“So exactly how much do you know?” Will was on your other side, the most relaxed of the bunch, sipping something fizzy. He seemed amused, more than anything.

“Let’s just assume I know nothing,” you shrugged. They were sure that wasn’t true, but it made it more fun.

“That’s me!” Santiago said, raising his eyebrows and pointing. It was, which you obviously knew, but you asked for it. Tom, who was gripping a beer while hovering by the food and texting, coughed a laugh.

“Okay, smart-ass,” you grabbed a handful of candy off the coffee table and threw one at Santi’s head. “You’re the pitcher. What do you do, other than throw the ball?”

He caught it, grinning, before Ben chimed in.

“Nothing.”

Santi made an offended noise in the back of his throat. He explained it to you – he was in control, throwing the ball in different ways to manipulate the batter.

“So, if all goes well, the batter misses and you catch it,” your eyes found Frankie’s, confirming, and he shrugged, more focused on restraining himself from pulling you against him. They then explained, strikes were good, but sometimes it was equally good to make the batter hit it badly.

“What’s a bat hit, at this level?”

Benny’s chest swelled a little with pride as he said anything he could catch. They corrected him – anything anyone could catch. That would give the other team an “out" faster than three strikes.

His voice was deep, but his laughter was lighter as Benny launched into a story like a overgrown kid trying to share. You could barely follow it as he jumped around and the others began to interject the pieces that he missed. It made you smile, how passionate they were about what they did.

Frankie saw a chance in the midst of the loud conversation, swallowed hard, and took it, sliding a little bit closer to you. He kept his voice low, as he explained that he and Pope would communicate the plan with hand signals. It was a gift from them, really, to let him show them you, your eyes alight as you looked at his broad, scarred hands.

The snap of the ball hitting a bat broke the moment, and all of you turned back towards the screen. Tom tuned in, telling you what he did in the outfield – mostly standing and running and catching and throwing – before he excused himself and slipped out. There was a joke somewhere, about the differences between infielders and outfielders, but no one made it.

You watched a tiny version of Will hit the ball, and the camera followed it as if flew all the way over the heads of the opposing team, past the fence and into the crowd.

“A home run?” That was one thing you didn’t really need to ask, but Will looked proud, anyway.

“Who has the record?” The real question, executed with raised brows and a conspiring sip of your drink as Santi made a face at you. At this point, you had their measure - jealousy wasn’t stronger that their comradery.

Your elbow bumped Frankie’s ribs and even though it didn’t hurt, he winced. “Will,” he said, trying to keep his tone neutral.

“It’ll be me in a few years,” Benny added with his wide smile, not even trying to dodge the pillows and pretzels thrown at his face.

“Sore subject?” eyes in Frankie’s, it made him thaw -that you were talking just to him.

“I’m a bad batter.” It was the truth. It wasn’t really in his skill set and he normally didn’t mind because it meant he had to do it less, but… he really didn’t like letting you down. It didn’t seem like you really cared, though, he hoped with all his heart that he wasn’t hallucinating when you slid closer to him. You made a joke about how you would certainly be worse, and his daydream about teaching you returned in force.

“Actually,” Santi’s quiet voice seemed more thoughtful than teasing, and he leaned in so only Frankie could hear him. “Recently you’ve been better,” he punched his friend’s arm and added, “Because you’ve got a good luck charm.”

They both looked at you, squinting at the screen and comparing your score sheet to the correct one.

“I guess so,” Frankie’s tone was just as thoughtful.

Throughout the evening all the remaining men were affectionate with you, and it was weirding you out. You had just gotten used to being friends with minor celebrities, and now?

It may have been the fact that you were just letting them show off their skills but something had definitely changed. It was like it was settled, your place with them, your value to them. Ben had sat in front of you, and asked you to run your fingers through his hair like you had before, as he explained what a shortstop did. He played it off like he didn’t do much, genuinely humble – but as it turned out, they were the most valuable player on the team, the core to communication and guidance. It was sweet, that he got so excited to share it with you, and accidentally let it all spill out.

Will remembered your drink, and teased you more than he ever had, letting himself banter with you and Santi.

Their hands were on your shoulders, ruffling your hair, on your arm, your knees, brushing or squeezing like they were trying to communicate to you how thankful they were that you actually cared. It was nice, but most of all, it was comfortable. It reinforced what Will had laid the foundation for - you really were a part of this, for the long haul.

Best of all was how close you were against the solid warmth of Francisco’s side. His arm was over the top of the couch, respectfully, and his fingers caught on your shoulder and the tips of your hair, like his restraint was crumbling.

When the game was over and the Miller boys faked yawns and slipped out, the weight of his arm settled, finally, and you leaned into him. Soon, you would have to pull away, pretend you hadn’t wanted to cuddle him fully so you wouldn’t overstay your welcome, but it was hard when it seemed like he wanted you to stay, too.

You made the time less awkward for Santi, though, since your final question was for the two of them, anyway.

“Will talked to me the other day, about before.” They snapped to attention, looking at you cautiously. “Would you guys… tell me, sometime? About all of it?” Knowing what you meant, the air was thick as they exchanged glances.

They didn’t have time for it all. Frankie’s hand fidgeted on your shoulder, and his grip on you tightened. You reached up and touched his hand, a reassurance, or maybe insurance for his overthinking mind, before you forced yourself to pull away. It didn’t need to be right now.

“Yeah, if you want,” Santiago was a man prone to talking, charming, working his was out of unpleasant situations. He fought the instinct.

It came out haltingly, the high of their success, and how each one of them had crashed down in their own way. They didn’t share too many details of the other men just themselves, and how it had felt.

For Santi, he threw himself into the game, overworking his mind and body until his knees gave out. It cost him a small fortune in treatments, a lost contract with his last team, and forced him into a break with his long term girlfriend. He thought his life was over, shot straight into the ground, and ended up in continuous therapy for both his mind as well as his knees. Will dated a girl who was in it for the wrong reasons, had his proposal on tabloid covers before he saw it, and locked himself away. Tom drank himself into a quiet, secretive 30 day rebab.

It was the hardest to share - Frankie’s drug use, his spiral as he balanced the two extreme sides of his life. He mentioned his family, his sister and he baby like weights on his shoulders, and his eyes told you and Pope both that he would tell you more later, when and if you wanted him too.

They each had been devastated by their mistakes, and you were almost in awe of them as they talked about keeping each other accountable, building and holding each other up, these past few years. There was plenty, like Will said, that was still healing, still being worked on, but it was amazing to see how far they’d come.

Francisco watched you closely, also fighting himself internally. It was a miracle you hadn’t run away, and he could see it like a sunrise on the horizon - hope. An actual real chance that he would get a shot with you, a real shot without secrets and faking it and anxiety.

You were thanking them both, hands cleaning up as you asked them if there was anything you should be conscious of in the future. He wasn’t jealous when Pope hugged you for a beat longer than normal, and he had to smile at his friend’s excitement as he talked about what baseball had become to them, and how tight their friendships were.

“Now you’re stuck with us,” Santi really meant it, and Frankie made a sound so you knew he agreed.

His mind was running as you walked together to your cars, but the feel of you wouldn’t leave his chest and he couldn’t stop just... talking to you.

The conversation had turned back to the game, and your growing love for it had nothing on his growing feelings for you. When you stopped at your car, he couldn’t bring himself to keep going, to move past and head home. The flow of words lulled and he found himself hovering close to you, above you like he had in the kitchen of your abuelo’s home. Your eyes flickered across his face, and he watched your tongue wet your lips subconsciously, and it was all over.

Frankie pulled you into him, kissing you as gently as he could manage. He meant for you to be able to pull away, if you wanted to - if it was too much, all of the information. You didn’t take it, kissing him back and letting him press into you until your back was against the cool metal of the car.

When you had watched them play, really watched and understood, Frankie had loved the way you looked at him, had thought nothing would feel better than your adoration.

He was wrong.

Feeling you in his arms, pinned between his body and your car, kissing him back like you wanted this as much as he did was the most intense thing he’d ever experienced.

Pulling back, his voice was rough as he asked you if you’d want to talk, sometimes soon, just you and him. You were just as breathless as he was, and your affirmation felt as good as a homerun. When he stepped fully back so you could open the driver’s side door, your head ducked as you smiled at him, and he wanted to eat you alive.

But he let you go, and as you drove away he thought about stealing after you, but he didn’t. There was a time and place for that, but after such a perfect moment, Frankie was content biding his time. He still had more work to do.

taglist

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge

hey batter batter taglist

@icanbeyourjedi @studyofawearymind @hnt-escape @athalien @the-witty-pen-name @daffodin

#francisco morales #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you #frankie x you #frankie x reader #catfish x you #triple frontier baseball au #hey batter batter #maybe i don't know people

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cactusnymph · 3 years

Text

matters of the heart

“Sir Caroline, I must ask your advice in an important matter.”

“You don’t have to call me ‘Sir’ anymore, Angelo. We’ve been over this.”

“Excuse me, Caroline. Now, this important matter—“

“Is this about Ale? Because, and I cannot stress this enough, I do not want to hear anything about your love life, Angelo.”

Angelo has to admit that this is not the way he had hoped the conversation to go. He feels himself deflate a little as he looks at Caroline’s disapproving face.

“But S—Caroline, I wouldn’t know who else to ask! Usually my best friend and former rival would be my first choice, but he’s not available at the moment.”

Caroline looks at him for a moment then sighs, lowering her head into her hands for a heartbeat before looking up at him again.

“Fine. Just this once. Next time you can just write Damien a letter.”

“Yes, Sir—I mean. Yes, Caroline.”

Caroline starts massaging her temple.

“So. Spit it out. What is it?”

“I almost can’t believe that I am saying this—truly, I think it is the first time I understand my friend Damien. I must speak my heart—“

“Oh, for the love of—“

“You are married to Miss Quanyii, are you not, Caroline?”

“Yes, I am. What does that have to do with anything?”

“So you must be well-versed in matters of the heart! How did you court your wife? I admit, I have never attempted this before and I have no idea how to go about courting a man—“

“And why should it be different than courting a woman, Angelo?”

Angelo pauses for a second. It was brought to his attention many times now that the distinctions between men and women he has learned about all his life might not actually be as accurate as many people make them out to be. Truly, Caroline is the best example. And now he has met Ale and Miss Quanyii, who is sometimes not Miss Quanyii but Mr Quanyii.

Angelo considers Caroline’s words.

“So you’re saying I should court Ale in the exact same way I would court a woman”, he says.

Caroline rolls her eyes.

“I do not see how gender has anything to do with this, Angelo. The way you court a person depends on the person. Not all women care for flowers and candles and love letters. I have no idea what Ale would prefer as courting; maybe he doesn’t want to be courted at all.”

“Like Sir Talfryn, yes. I have learned about this. You are correct, Caroline and I am glad to have asked you. I shall speak to Ale about this to make sure that I am not overstepping any boundaries! I thank you for your wisdom! Hophophophophophop.”

Angelo is not afraid of anything.

He’s not afraid of pain or fighting or dying or even things as complicated as numbers even though he is not very good at them. But when he finds Ale sitting next to Olala, showing her how to start a campfire with her little hands, something tightens in Angelo’s chest and all he can do is stare.

Ale is beautiful. Dark skin, long hair, big eyes and long lashes, a soft smile as he tells little Olala that she’s doing well.

Angelo feels his stomach drop; a sensation that is very similar to falling and his heart beats so rapidly in his chest that he has trouble breathing for a moment.

Maybe he should have rehearsed this. Maybe it would be better if little Olala was not there with Ale. Maybe he was hasty when he concluded that speaking directly to Ale would be the best course of action. A warrior’s approach. Head on. The same way he always approaches difficulties.

Ale looks up when he notices Angelo and he flashes him a grin that makes Angelo’s insides squirm around like very lively snakes. Saints, if he starts using more metaphors for how Ale makes him feel he might turn into Damien before he knows it.

“Hey schoolboy, what can we do for you?”

Angelo isn’t sure why it makes him feel warm and tingly when Ale calls him ‘schoolboy’, but it absolutely does.

He clears his throat.

“I was about to—hm. Well.”

Angelo wishes Damien were here so he could tell him how to find the right words for this. Damien has such a knack for language and beautiful words, while Angelo—well. Angelo has never in his life understood one poem that Damien showed to him.

“We’re making fire, Sir Angelo! I made a small flame, all without magic! Look!”, Olala proclaims excitedly and waves at the little wisp of smoke her efforts have conjured.

“Very good, Olala. I—uh. I must take my leave.”

And for the first time in his life, Sir Angelo The Strong turns around and flees.

“Aw, Angelo, what is it?”

Angelo looks up as Quanyii appears out of nowhere right beside him.

“I am afraid that I have become a coward, Miss Quanyii”, he says as he looks down at his big hands.

“I highly doubt that, sweetie. Is this about our beautiful vigilante boy?”, Quanyii wants to know as she scoots closer to Angelo, her colorful hair surrounding her head like a cloud.

“Yes. I have spoken to Si—to Caroline about this and she gave me important insight on the matter of courting rituals.”

“She did?”, Quanyii asks, sounding surprised.

“Yes. She explained that courting is not a matter of gender but of the individual’s personality. She also pointed out that Ale might have no interest in romantic relationships which I had not considered before.”

Quanyii puts her index finger to her lips and taps them thoughtfully.

“Yes, yes, such wisdom. But have you considered asking me about this? Romance is a magical thing after all and sweetheart, I’m a witch! Caroline doesn’t know one itsy-bitsy thing about romance, let me tell you that”, Quanyii says and pouts a little.

Angelo raises his head.

“So you would help me in this quest to court Ale?”, he asks. The grin that spreads on Quanyii’s face makes Angelo pause. This might not be a good idea.

“Oh, sweetie, don’t you worry your silly little head. I will give you one tip for free because we have become such good friends during those past few weeks! I know a little secret and that is that Ale does like romance!”

Angelo feels his face light up with a smile as relief courses through his entire body. He feels like he could do a hundred push-ups right here and now. Maybe even lift Porthos. Or the whole, fallen tree he’s sitting on.

“Why thank you, Miss Quanyii, that is most helpful!”

He grabs both of her hands and shakes them as Quanyii giggles.

“You are so very welcome, Angelo. For every other piece of help I’m going to require a little bit of payment. A witch has to make do, you know.”

Angelo doesn’t really understand but he nods anyway and gets up from the fallen tree trunk.

“I do not believe that I will need further assistance, now that the issue of romantic attraction has been resolved! Sir Angelo The Strong is back on his feet! Ha ha! Hophophophophophop.”

“Good luck, brave knight!”, Quanyii calls after him as Angelo runs back towards the camp.

Now that Angelo knows that Ale is not generally opposed to romance the path seems clear. That is, at least until Angelo arrives back at the place where Ale and Olala made their little fire before.

The two of them are still there, but both of them are asleep. Ale is sitting with his back against a tree, his legs spread, and Olala has curled up between his legs, her tail gently snoring. Caroline sits by the fire and sharpens her blade.

She looks up as Angelo enters the clearing.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Angelo”, she says as Angelo stares at Ale’s sleeping form. His long lashes are feathered out on his cheeks and for a second Angelo imagines to brush his fingers over Ale’s cheek and give him a kiss.

The thought immediately sends his heart into another gallop that would make Porthos proud and Angelo swallows heavily.

“I cannot report any ghost sightings at this point, Sir—I mean. Caroline.”

Angelo notices how Caroline’s eyes narrow as she looks him up and down and since Caroline has stated that she has no interest to know anything about Angelo’s love life he tries very hard to respect her wishes and to not look at Ale as if he’s the most beautiful thing that Angelo has ever seen.

Which he very definitely is.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, sit down, you oaf”, Caroline snaps and Angelo, still as an automatic response to her authoritative voice, walks over to the fire and sits down next to her.

“Did you talk to Quanyii?”, she wants to know.

“Yes. She cleared up a question I had and I thought it would make things easier, but as it turns out, it did not.”

“I wouldn’t make any deals with her, witches are fickle and cunning creatures.”

“Babe, you’re being so mean!”

“Oh, shut it. You know it’s true.”

“Yes, but when you say it like that it’s mean, mean, mean!”

Angelo watches them bicker for a while before his eyes drift back over to Ale and Olala. Ale’s hand is resting on Olala’s back and Angelo looks at it for a while. Ale’s hand is much smaller than his and Angelo wonders what it would feel like to hold it. It must be rough from all the sword-fighting, much like Angelo’s hand.

Maybe Ale doesn’t have any interest in holding Angelo’s hand. Maybe Ale doesn’t like men.

“What is it now, Angelo”, Caroline asks with an expression on her face that says she might regret asking.

“I forgot to consider another important thing regarding this whole courting business”, Angelo says and looks at Caroline. Quanyii seems to have vanished into thin air—something Angelo has seen happening multiple times during those last few weeks.

“Which is?”

“You made me aware of the possibility of Ale being averse to romantic relationships, but I forgot to consider whether or not Ale would be opposed to romantic relationships to men. I only ever knew one man who liked another man. Lizard. Does it count as a man if it is a lizard? I certainly don’t know. My point stands, though.”

Caroline sighs deeply and cards through her short her.

“It seems highly unlike you to ask all these questions instead of simply acting, Angelo”, she says and looks at him with a stern gaze.

Angelo sighs.

“Yes, I know. I am afraid I have found my most lethal opponent yet! Matters of the heart! No monster could ever best me in combat, but my own heart is betraying me.”

Caroline puts her blade to the side and leans forward, her elbows resting on her knees as she looks at Angelo with her piercing eyes.

“Just talk to him. It’s that easy. No one can ever truly know another person’s heart or thoughts unless they speak them out loud.”

“Unless you’re a witch”, comes a disembodied sing-song from somewhere above them.

“Unless you’re a witch in which case you should stay out of people’s heads”, Caroline barks up the tree and looks back at Angelo.

“I cannot believe that I should turn into a coward for something as simple as talking. It seems highly ridiculous.”

Caroline shrugs.

“Emotions are hard. And I... understand your hesitance. But you should not let your feelings rule over your rational thoughts.”

“That is a very Caroline thing to say, Sir Caroline.”

“Stop calling me ‘Sir’ already!”

“Certainly, Sir Caroline.”

“Ugh.”

“Ale, can I ask you a personal question?”

“You can ask anything you want, schoolboy. I can decide whether or not I want to answer.”

“Oh—yes. That is very reasonable. Thank you. Uh—“

“Sir knight, are you alright? Did you get sunburnt? Sir Caroline says it is important to not stay outside in the sun for too long!”

“I am not sunburnt, little Olala.”

“Ask your question, schoolboy. Is this about gender again?”

“Uh—no. Not—huh. I suppose it is! But not in the way you think!”

“Well then, shoot.”

“This is more about the genders of others, I suppose! A potential paramour, one might say! I have a friend who has a fiancée but who is also involved with a man. Lizard. Male lizard? I am not entirely certain about the lizard’s gender and I was told not to assume. Anyway. What I wanted to ask—“

“You want to know if I like lizards?”

“No, that’s not—“

“I was joking, schoolboy. Calm down. You want to know what kind of people I’m attracted to.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t much care about gender, but it doesn’t happen often that I’m attracted to people. Either romantically or sexually.”

“Oh.”

“I just don’t fall in love easily. And I don’t find many people hot.”

“Hm.”

“Any more questions?”

“Yes, but I am afraid they would be borderline offensive and highly invasive.”

“Well then. Let’s keep it at that, schoolboy.”

“Sir knight, are you feeling okay?”

“Yes, little Olala.”

“It’s just that you are usually very loud but you have been very quiet for a while. I recently learned about heatstrokes and it sounds awful and I hope you don’t have a heatstroke, Sir knight.”

“I don’t think I have anything of the kind, Olala.”

Olala sits down next to Angelo. He’s leaning against Porthos who’s lying down and nibbling on some grass. Ale and Caroline are investigating something and since Angelo is not the best at clues he offered to stay behind to guard their belongings and also Olala.

“Most adults do not like to tell children why they’re sad. But if you wanted to, I would certainly listen.”

“That’s very kind of you, Olala. Have you ever liked someone?”

“Of course! I like so many people!”

“Ah, yes. Hm. And were you ever scared to tell any of these people that you like them?”

“No, Sir knight. I grew up in the Garden of Graves and we tended to the dead and my sisters always taught me that it is important to speak your heart while the people you love are alive, for you never know when they might die and then you can’t tell them anymore.”

“That is... very wise, Olala.”

“Thank you, Sir knight! My sisters taught me a great many things and I am honored to pass their wisdom on to others.”

Angelo looks down at Olala’s small form and ruffles her hair.

“I will take it to heart!”, he promises.

“Hey, Angelo. Can I talk to you for a moment?”

They make camp by a river and Caroline takes Olala for a bath. Angelo turns around to look at Ale, who tied his long braids into a top knot. He’s wearing a white tunic that is a little too big for him and allows Angelo a view of Ale’s collarbone.

Angelo tries very hard not to stare because he refuses to be disrespectful any more than he already was when they first met.

“Of course, Ale.”

Ale looks at him. Angelo would never trust himself to read people’s behavior—that has never been his forté. But he could swear that Ale looks almost a bit nervous; something that Angelo hasn’t seen on him so far.

“So, remember that talk we had? About how I might like lizards or not?”, Ale begins and Angelo winces a little.

“It was poorly worded and I apologize—“

“It’s fine, Angelo. That’s not what this is about. But... you remember what I said. About not being attracted to people often?”

“Yes. I remember.”

“Why did you want to know that?”

Angelo takes a deep breath and scratches the back of his head.

“I—uh. Well”, he starts, then doesn’t know how to continue. He remembers the talks he had with Caroline and Olala and straightens his back. Sir Angelo the Strong will not back down from a challenge. Any challenge!

“I would like to court you, Ale.”

Ale blinks. Once, twice, three times.

He opens his mouth, then closes it again.

“You—what?”

“Courting. I would like to court you. Woo you. Win you over. In the romantic sense. But I was not sure if that was something that would make you uncomfortable, so I tried to figure out if you might be opposed against courtship. By men. Or anyone.”

Ale takes two steps towards him and Angelo has the great need to spread his arms and pull Ale close to him, but he doesn’t. He’s asking for permission and he will not ruin this by overstepping boundaries.

A slight chuckle pulls him back to reality and he sees Ale’s eyes twinkle, the corners of his lips turned upwards.

“Are you asking me on a date, schoolboy?”, Ale asks. His playful smile is doing things to Angelo he can’t describe because he is not Damien. But man, he almost feels the need to write a poem about that smile. That is how badly smitten he is with this wonderful, splendid man standing in front of him.

“I suppose so! Ale, will you allow me to take you on a date?”

Ale takes another step and raises his hand to softly flip one finger against Angelo’s forehead.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

#ale of milltown #tpp #the penumbra podcast #penumbra podcast #the second citadel #second citadel #sir angelo #sir angelo the strong #alengelo #mi writes #i'm still in the penumbra zone #and i love these two so much and also the whole weirdo brigade

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eyeofthedrgn · 3 years

Text

A Heavy Battle Symphony - Chapter 4

New chapter! This chapter is slightly fluffy, still angsty, but much less than previous chapters.

Catch up here: Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3

TW: language, mental abuse, verbal abuse, physical abuse, violence, depression, anxiety, panic attacks, self harm, self-esteem issues, sexual abuse (only alluded to briefly in future chapters), just a lot of trauma, angst, smut - lots of lovely gay smut

Word count: 1685

Chapter 4 - Forgotten

A little piece of paper with a picture drawn

Floats on down the street 'til the wind is gone

And the memory now is like the picture was then

When the paper's crumpled up it can't be perfect again

It was Monday, and he was healed enough that Maeve let him go to school. After a normal morning routine, Lorcan made sure he wore a hoodie that would do a decent job covering his neck. Hood up, hands in his hoodie pocket, head down, he headed to school.

He missed a lot of schoolwork. It was going to be a late night. Luckily, most of the teachers gave him until the end of the week to turn it in.

When P.E. came around, he went straight to the gym rather than the locker room. He found his teacher and handed him his doctor's note. Mr. Brullo sent Lorcan to the library to study. Lorcan was happy about that. He was able to catch up on some of his homework.

Lorcan's handwriting, luckily, wasn't hindered by his cast. Perrington at least broke his right arm, his non-dominant arm. That he was thankful for, if he could be thankful for anything that happened to him.

He was getting a headache from his pre-calc homework. Lorcan rubbed his face with his hand and sighed.

"Lorcan?"

Lorcan grunted and slowly turned to see Elide, who looked relieved to see him. That was interesting. "Oh, uh, hi."

"Aren't you supposed to be in gym?" Lorcan lifted his casted arm. Elide's eyes widened and her lips parted. "Oh." She swallowed. Fuck, here comes the pity. "How-" she closed her mouth. "How'd that happen? We thought you were sick." Why were they concerned?

He told the same story Maeve told the doctor. Something about getting in a fight and falling down stairs, and "you should see the other guy". She didn't seem to believe him, neither did the doctor.

"Can I sit with you?" Lorcan shrugged. She sat down and then proceeded to talk to him about what he missed in creative writing. He didn't realize her voice was so soothing.

"Has anyone signed your cast yet?" She was eyeing the black cast. "I have a silver Sharpie!" She pulled it out of her bag and held it up with a smile.

Lorcan huffed a small laugh. Not being able to say no to that smile, knowing he was going to get in trouble, well, what could really do to him anyway? So, Lorcan carefully pushed up his hoodie sleeve. She smiled brightly at him. He propped his head up on his hand, eyes closed and listened to her hum as she put ink to the black cast.

++++

It was hard to keep from asking Lorcan questions. Elide saw the handprint bruise on his neck, the exhaustion lining his body, and of course, the full arm cast. She thought about how his injuries were formed. Obviously, someone put their hands on him, but who?

She didn't know who he lived with besides his aunt. It was doubtful that a woman had done this sort of damage, but one never knows for sure.

As she put pen to plaster, she kept looking up at his face between strokes of ink. He had drifted off to sleep. His face was slack, a slight snore every time he breathed out. Lorcan looked so innocent like that and dare she say, gorgeous.

Having finished her artwork, she just watched him until the bell rang. She gently brushed a lock of hair off his forehead, delicately tucking it behind his ear. He didn't stir.

Elide wished there was something she could do to get him away from his more than shitty situation. Calling the police was probably out of the question, but that was really the only thing she could think of.

The bell rang.

---

He didn't realize he had fallen asleep until he felt his textbook being pulled from under his elbow. "Oh, shit. Sorry," Lorcan furrowed his brow as he started cleaning up his stuff.

"You looked tired, I didn't want to wake you, but it is lunch time." Elide smiled, "and you have to look at your cast!" She seemed so excited about it.

Expecting some nonsense, he was pleasantly surprised to find a nice line drawing from his elbow to his wrist. It was a row of detailed trees with her name under it. Lorcan looked at it with awe. He looked back at Elide, "You did that?" Obviously, she did that. Don't be stupid, Lorcan, he thought to himself.

She giggled. He thought her laugh was adorable. "Obviously." Lorcan's cheeks flushed while he finished packing up before they walked together to lunch in a comfortable silence.

---

He followed Elide through the lunch line, the lunch lady gave him an extra serving. He was probably looking a little gaunt these days having barely eaten for the past week. Lorcan started towards the empty table in the corner.

Apparently, Elide wasn't having any of that as she pulled him to the group table before he could go be alone. Everyone seemed excited to see him. His name was shouted amongst several other greetings. Lorcan felt a tug in his chest as he looked around at the friendly faces. Why were they always trying to be nice to him? And then his eyes fell on the silver haired boy, he instantly forgot what he was thinking. He stared at the green eyed beauty a fraction longer than he should have as he sat down.

Elide introduced everyone. Aelin, Lysandra, Manon, Dorian, Chaol, Fenrys, Connall, Rowan - the silver haired boy - and then Vaughn, who was the last one to join the table.

He was sitting between Elide and Fenrys. Lorcan kept his head down while he ate, feeling very out of place. Everyone was chatting around him, over him, leaning around him. It was a lot. He wished he was alone at the table in the corner.

Rowan spoke up, "Can I sign your cast?" Lorcan jerked his head up. The sleeve of Lorcan's hoodie was still pushed up, he had forgotten to pull it back down which was unusual, but under the current circumstances, it made sense.

Lorcan's heart sped and he suddenly felt warmth spread up his neck. It drove him crazy how much his body reacted of its own accord around Rowan. He wished it would stop.

There was no reason to deny him when the punishment was coming now anyway since Elide's Sharpie touched the cast in the library, so he just shrugged and moved his arm towards the center of the table, towards Rowan.

"Elide, can I borrow your Sharpie?" She handed it over with a nod and went back to animatedly talking to the other girls about something.

Lorcan was careful not to press into the edge of the table, as he adjusted his arm. "I don't think mine will be as pretty as Elide's. Sorry in advance." Lorcan just shrugged a shoulder. He watched Rowan do his little doodle.

Then Rowan grabbed Lorcan's hand to carefully twist his arm to get to a different part of the cast easier causing electricity to shoot through his skin. His breath hitched. The soft fingers lingering on his skin, he never wanted the other boy's hand to move. Lorcan's eyes darted to Rowan's face to see if he noticed anything weird. All he saw was intense concentration, the way his tongue stuck out just a tad and his brows stitched together. Suddenly he was too warm, chest tight, heart pounding. Hellas below.

"There!" Rowan smiled at his silly nonsensical line doodle signed with his name. "All done." That smile did weird things to his stomach and the absence of those warm fingers made all the heat he had just been feeling disappear. A shiver ran down his spine.

Rowan capped the Sharpie and went to hand it back to Elide when Fenrys grabbed it.

"Can I?"

"Yeah." He was screwed anyway.

By the end of lunch, his cast was covered in names and doodles by his... Friends? They couldn't be friends, could they?

As he walked to his next class, he started panicking. His chest tightening for a whole other reason than being in close proximity to a certain boy. A tightness that was only reminiscent of growing anxiety. He shouldn't have let anyone sign it. What was he thinking?

Fuck.

++++

"Lorcan," Rowan breathed as he saw the dark haired boy basically being dragged by Elide to their table. Everyone perked up at that and welcomed him back.

Rowan saw his pained expression. Then, he saw the cast and the light purples, greens, and yellows on his neck that Lorcan was obviously trying to hide with the hood of his hoodie. It looked like a handprint. A fucking handprint. His gut roiled at the thought.

But then Lorcan looked at him, and oh boy, those eyes were going to be the end of him. They were an amazing onyx, almost like pools of night. His cheeks heated and he hoped no one noticed.

He finally got the courage to ask to sign his cast. And when Lorcan leaned over to get his arm closer to Rowan, he noted the stiffness and slight discomfort that flitted over his face. There was so much damage to Lorcan's body that they couldn't see. It made him unbearably sad thinking about it.

For the rest of lunch, while everyone signed Lorcan's cast, Rowan just sat there silently, observing the beautiful dark haired boy. He'd catch his eye every now and then give him a small smile, which was never returned. His eyes just quickly flitted away. Lorcan, he learned was very hard to read.

Rowan wished they could hang out, just the two of them. He wanted to get to know him and help him. And know what those lips felt like, tasted like. How it would feel to thread his fingers through his long dark hair that was usually in a messy bun. Or just to hold his hand. Fuck, he had it bad.

____

Thank you for reading! Let me know if you would like to be tagged.

@thenerdandfandoms @starlightorstarfire

#rowcan fanfic #rowcan #rowan x lorcan #rowan whitethorn #lorcan salvaterre #heavy battle symphony #crackship

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thewritinggrindstone · 4 years

Text

Identifying Harmful Repetition in Your Writing

Something I’ve encountered ad nauseam over the last few projects I’ve edited is a relentless repetition of words, phrases, and ideas. One of the most frustrating and confidence-destroying issues a reader can encounter is poorly executed repetition, which can stem from different problems, including:

Too much reliance on your natural stock phrases.

Limited vocabulary.

Not proofreading close enough or editing thoroughly enough.

Lack of confidence.

Not writing with the reader in mind.

I want to preface this with the fact that obviously certain types of repetition aren’t bad. Repetition is an incredibly powerful tool when used effectively, and what’s effective is subjective per book and per reader. That’s a massive topic for another time. This post is specifically about egregious uses of repetition, the types that any good editor or beta reader will point out as in need of fixing.

Stock Phrases and Words

Every person has their own unique lexicon, a repository of words and phrases they naturally will draw upon when they speak, write, and even think. There’s a reason clichés are prevalent, and that’s because the brain likes the path of least resistance. It’s easy to mentally grab those words and phrases that are constantly in arm’s reach, those words and phrases that are comfortable and familiar, but constantly doing this while writing and then not changing them can result in overuse that is noticeable on both stylistic and technical levels. It can also lead a reader to the understanding that you haven’t thought critically about what you’re writing, which can and will undermine their confidence in you.

If you’re writing a first draft, don’t worry about this too much. You probably just need to focus on putting words down, not exactly what those words are. Repetition is an issue that can and should be intentionally fixed during the revision process.

If this is a problem that bugs you even when you’re drafting, there are different ways of dealing with it. I tend to be highly aware of most repetition within my work, and because I constantly edit as I write, backtracking to add/move information as I go doesn’t tend to interrupt my workflow too much. If I know I’ve already used a word and can’t think of something better after several seconds’ thought, I’ll use the repetition and immediately flag it somehow—usually with a “repeat” comment—so I can deal with it once I’ve completed the draft. Opening a thesaurus or dictionary tends to be more disruptive during drafting than it’s worth, but sometimes it isn’t, and you will need to determine what works best for you according to your own style.

Once you’re ready to target the issue of repetition, you will need to work hard, think hard. Don’t settle for the easy word, the stock phrase, the cliché. Discard the timeworn, the tired, the used-before. Play with language—try to come up with new phrases, unique descriptions. Get silly, flip rocks over, dig around under them, push things as far as you need to create something different, then go back and edit again, refining what you’ve written until you’re satisfied.

It’s going to be a process. It’s going to be difficult. It won’t be natural at first; you’ll need to form new pathways in your brain, just like when you learn any new skill, and that’s uncomfortable, but if you persist, your writing will be fresh and alive and won’t be as prone to being bogged down by reader-infuriating repetition.

Limited Vocabulary

Tying into the idea of your personal lexicon is the size of it. No matter how much you pay attention to precisely what words or phrases you’re using, you won’t have much in the way of options if you don’t have at least a good-sized repertoire to draw from.

Increasing your lexicon is something that just takes dedication and time. You can’t rush it, you can’t force it, but you can be deliberate in growing it. Read broadly, maybe bookmark or sign up for your favorite dictionary’s word of the day, or keep a word cache of interesting words or phrases you like.* I have a document titled “word hoard” in Dropbox where I keep all unusual, unfamiliar, or beautiful words I encounter as well as their function(s) and definitions. Most of these words haven’t properly entered my own lexicon yet, but actively being aware of words that are anywhere from slightly to completely outside what you usually use will help you become a more mindful writer.

* I got this idea from Barbara Baig’s Spellbinding Sentences, which is one of my favorite books I’ve ever read on writing.

Lack of Proofreading/Editing

The identification and elimination of repetition hovers somewhere between content editing and technical editing. It’s an easy problem to skim over, especially when you’re the writer because you’re likely too familiar with every word you’ve put down, and issues like this tend to fade into the background. This is particularly true of writers who have reworded or reorganized a given piece of writing, since repetition can easily become lost in the jumble.

If possible, set your project aside for at least a few days—preferably a few weeks or even longer—then come back to it and read it with fresh eyes while intentionally noting and commenting on or highlighting all uses of repetition, big and small. If you aren’t sure if it’s something you repeated, flag it anyway—you can always check later.

If you don’t have time to set the project aside for a while, read your work aloud. If you can’t bear reading your work aloud or you aren’t able due to circumstances, listen to the document instead. Word has a read aloud function, and there are many online text-to-speech websites where you can paste a piece of writing. The unnatural cadence of the artificial voice might be weird and awkward at first, but listening won’t fully engage the “reading” portion of your brain, and you’ll likely find it easier to notice uses of repetition, among other problems. While writing this post, I have listened through it three times, tweaking phrasing and eliminating repetition—and deleting some of the harsher statements—as I go.

If you’re feeling really brave, have another person read your writing back at you. Nothing like being uncomfortably hyperaware of every word you’ve put down to recognize pretty much every single problem within your work. Just do not overcompensate and decide that nothing you’ve written has any value at all (it does), or that you’ll need to change everything (you don’t). If you approach this method with the understanding that it’s going to be awkward but are nevertheless determined to get something useful out of it, you’ll benefit, especially if your reading partner is willing to help you with any areas you feel you need assistance in.

When editing for repetition, if possible, pay attention not only to noun/verb/adjective usage. Go deeper. What types of repetition are you prone to using? Do you begin a significant portion of your sentences with conjunctions? Are there certain conjunctions you use more frequently than others? Do you reiterate entire sentences two or more times with only slight variations in wording? Do you return to the same idea numerous times? What about tone, do you use lots of rhetorical questions? Sarcasm? Self-deprecation? Self-boasting? Do you frequently return to the same imagery or settings or use of metaphor? Or grammar—are there certain punctuation marks or grammatical conventions you use more than others? Do you have a sentence construction you consistently fall back on?

Again, some of these questions might require an outside opinion for you to find suitable answers, but becoming self-aware of not just what you do but why you do will help you recognize these patterns, which in turn can help you mentally eliminate repetition before it even makes it past your fingertips.

Lack of Confidence

Widespread repetition of sentences and ideas is often a major symptom of a writer who isn’t confident in their abilities to communicate what they’re talking about. “If I just tell you this fact again, surely you’ll believe me this time. I’ll make you believe me. Do you believe me now? What about now? Now? Now?”

The painful truth is... no.

Encountering mindless or fear-based repetition is extremely frustrating for readers. Inevitably, without fail, every single time I edit a book by a writer who has repeated themselves over and over and over again, with every single repetition, I increasingly doubt both their credibility and their ability to pass on important knowledge to me. I feel either patronized and insulted, or I feel annoyed because it seems like the author threw their thoughts down on paper in whatever order they came out and then hit publish with

no regard for how those thoughts will be perceived by others, and

no regard for how they are wasting the reader’s time.

Please, please do not undermine your credibility by repeating yourself. Readers usually only need to read information one time for them to absorb it, maybe twice, so trust your readers. If the reader needs to come back to information, they have that ability. Do not force unnecessary repetition in their faces. Always assume readers are at least as smart as you. If you don’t need the information repeated, give your readers the same respect.

Increasing your writing confidence will once again take time and effort. You’ll need to determine why you’re not confident and then seek out methods of correcting the issue(s). In general, fear of not being heard or understood tends to be the underlying cause of repetition, so learn how to be deliberate in your writing. Say what you mean to say. Say exactly what you mean to say. Understand that you have something important to share with the world, so share it—then stop. Readers will appreciate you for not wasting their time.

Writing for Yourself

Yesterday I finished editing a project just over 88,000 words. Nineteen chapters. Almost 250 pages.

I hated every word, and I learned nothing.

If it had been a line edit, I could’ve cut the book’s word count down below 50K merely by eliminating all of the repetition. This author is infatuated with the sound of their own voice, talked on and on and on merely to hear their own self-revelations and how special they are compared to everyone else stated again and again in near-identical sentences.

I’m editing another book right now that is less self-important and is far more interesting on the whole (and is thankfully over a hundred pages shorter), but again, the author has repeated themselves sometimes three or four or five times, with some phrases appearing over fifteen times, and I can feel my resentment growing. If an author isn’t going to take the time to put forth a thoughtfully crafted piece of writing, why should a reader likewise invest in it?

There is absolutely nothing wrong with writing for yourself. You should—you’ll learn a lot about yourself as both person and writer, and you’ll enjoy writing more, and you’ll (hopefully) be able to refine your skills.

But if—if—you intend to share your writing with the world, if you actually have something to say, you need to be aware that you have a duty to make yourself understood without wasting people’s time. Do not make people regret having picked up your writing by being so in love with the sound of your own voice that you are no longer courteous to others.

Love your writing. Love it fiercely and passionately and with reckless abandon, but reach a place where you know how your writing is going to be perceived at large. Use as many words as you need to get your point across and no more.

In Closing

If you’re still having difficulty identifying repetition within your own work, ask someone who is skilled at recognizing this issue to look over your writing. It’s always easier to recognize repetition when you haven’t written it, so fresh eyes can give you the insight you might not be able to see yourself.

Know your audience. A children’s book will require a different level of repetition than an instruction manual or a sci-fi novel or an autobiography. If you’re reading a recipe, you’d be annoyed and confused if the author told you to add the same ingredient twice due to shoddy proofreading. Write and repeat accordingly.

Whatever you’re writing, make a point of intentionally performing at least one round of editing with the intention of eliminating unnecessary repetition. Your readers will appreciate it more than you’ll ever know.

#writing #repetition #editing #proofreading #advice #red talks

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queen-erika-the-songful · 3 years

Note

So did you watch Princess Diaries 2? What's your opinion on it, better or worse?

Oh shoot I did forget to post my thoughts. Thanks for reminding me!

Honestly, I think it's better than I remember in some parts, but worse in others.

TL;DR - Better than people nowadays are making out to be (or outright lying about it - looking at you, D**g W*lk*r) but also has some stuff that would've been better with a few extra re-writes. I definitely see why I watched this so much as kid and I really would love to see another follow-up.

1) There's a bit of continuity errors right off the bat - even though Mia was supposed to go back to Genovia at the end of the first movie, and we see her arrive there, she I guess went back to America to finish high school and college? All before she turned 21? I guess it's not too implausible if she worked hard enough, I just found that a bit weird.

2) So...I get the idea for the conflict but I just realized something - if the Nicholas Devereaux was an eligible member of the bloodline, then are he and Mia cousins? Who exactly is his uncle Viscout Mabrey related to that makes him related to the Renaldi line? How had the Genovian Parliament not seen this connection before? It's pretty confusing and makes the main romance a bit more "Um....." '

3) Going off of that, why didn't Parliament just make Nicholas and Mia get engaged to each other? That would've solved the problem for them and we still could have had the "enemies-to-lovers" thing everybody loves, but with a "forced engagement" trope thrown in.

3) I still love Anne Hathaway and Julie Andrews in these roles. They really know their characters and relationships to each other. Still a delight onscreen.

4) Honestly weird family ties aside Mia and Nicholas's romance is done pretty well for the "enemies-to-lovers" trope, and I'm usually not a big fan of that anyway. He starts to actually care for her fairly quickly (there's a hint of it after the horse incident, and then they both get jealous over their dates). I also like that they reconcile their romance at the end but still have Mia ascend unmarried.

5) Andrew deserves all the happiness. He really tried his hard to support Mia, even after the late night rendezvous scandal. I think if they went through with the marriage, they would have been close and fond of each other, like Clarisse and her husband.

6) I used to love the sleepover scene but aside from the "Crowing Glory" song (which still makes me cry) it rubs me the wrong way a little bit. It's cute that Mia invited princesses of all ages and countries, but I would've liked to see them really talk about what truly makes a princess instead of just focusing on "wacky sleepover stuff". I mean they could've even done both if they really wanted to keep the silly mattress surfing

7) Joe and Clarisse revealing their secret relationship and getting married at the end? Beautiful. Adore it.

8) Speaking of Joe, he continues to be objectively the best character. "If you hurt my girl, you will answer directly to me. And whatever crimes I commit against you, remember: I have diplomatic immunity in 46 countries. Including Puerto Rico."

9) Nicholas and his uncle did have a point about his and Mia's upbringings. Mia has only been princess for a few years at this point, and she finished her studies in America before officially moving, so she hasn't spent much time with the people, while Nicholas has been a true native Genovian most of his life. It's understandable why he (at least at first) would automatically believe that he qualifies more than Mia to be ruler.

10) I'm mixed on the Queen lessons. I feel like Mia should already know about fan language if she's been taking lessons this long already. I liked her talking to the citizens about their problems a lot more. That's definitely a "Queen" thing she needs to learn to do.

11) There are a LOT of accents in Genovia. Is it supposed to be a sort of "melting pot" country? I know I shouldn't think about it too hard I'm just curious.

12) Screw that one guy that scared Mia's horse. And that godforsaken reporter. I hope every time they eat a pear it's rotten.

13) Lily is so much better in this movie. She works well as comic relief. "I'm Lily, best friend to future Queen, I don't like you". Iconic.

14) I still love the parade scene. I'm sorry but I can't see how people apparently hate this scene. It's so cute and such a sweet moment to do for the orphans. And then to follow it up with her turning the winter castle into a shelter? Beautiful, I love it.

15) I feel bad for Charlotte. Her job is so chaotic. She deserves a nice spa weekend with her phone shut off.

If you have other questions I'd be happy to answer them.

#long post #the princess diaries 2

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puffins-muffins · 3 years

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Hi, please don’t judge me. 😬

Oh boy, okay. Middle-aged broad here using Tumblr for the first time. I just want a place to post my fanfic. I have no idea if I’m doing this correctly. I have no idea if this will be my only post or my only story.

Many years ago I used to write *NSYNC fanfic, mostly Justin Timberlake centric stories, drabbles, ideas, etc. but just lost my motivation when life and my twenties got in the way.

Since we’re closing in on a year since lockdown started, I’ve re-discovered my passion for writing stories. I am currently in a Chris Evans rabbit hole downward spiral (mostly blaming quarantine & a Defending Jacob binge watch) so the first story I’ve written (since my awakening) is centered around him.

It’s 99.9% fluff and .1% smut and I think there’s 1 language! word in there also. Edited to the best of my ability so sorry for any typos (I think this is referred to as beta’d?)

Anyways, I hope anyone who comes across this likes it as much as I do. :) And if not, that’s okay too.

Endlessly

The snowflakes fell gently on the snow covered ground. The sky was full of stars, brightly lighting up the night with the help of a full moon. The air was warm, but the slight wind cast a small chill to the already cold temperature. A tiny figure pushed a large ball of snow through the freshly fallen flakes, groaning in discomfort with every new push. She stopped to take a breath and looked behind her where he stood, an amused smile spread across his face.

"Why aren't you pushing yours?"

He shrugged casually, replying with a shrug and a smirk, "I got bored."

"You got bored?!"

"Is there an echo out here?" He cuffed his large glove covered hand around his ear.

She looked up at him with wide eyes, "I've been pushing this big ball of snow for like...forty-five fucking minutes!! And you… you got bored?!"

He pondered for a moment, then shrugged again. "Yeah, that sounds about right." He added with a nod, his blue eyes sparkling in amusement.

Sitting defeated in the snow, she crossed her arms over her chest and pouted, "You're the worst snowman maker I've ever known."

"Baby, you looked so cute pushing that huge ball of snow, and all the grunting you did made it much more enjoyable.” He quipped, wiggiling his eyebrows. “I just had to stop and watch."

"You are no fun, Christopher!" She whined.

"Awww!” He threw his head back in laughter, nearly hugging himself in the process. “Come on. Your cute ass is freezing." He held his hands out for her to grab onto and he pulled her up, planting a soft, warm kiss on her lips. She smiled against his mouth as his thick beard tickled her face. Their hands entwined as she placed a few more kisses on his slightly warmed lips.

She pulled away slowly, planning her next move very carefully, "You know what, Chris?"

"What’s that Elle?"

"I like you better in the snow." She pushed hard on his chest, sending him crashing into a pile of freshly fallen snow. His mouth hung open for a minute, a shocked expression written all over his face. Noelle was doubled over in laughter and it only took a moment before his look turned mischievous and she knew she was in trouble. Taking a big hand full of snow, Chris hurled it toward her squealing body, part of it covering her coat, the rest flooding down her back.

Noelle shrieked, giggling as she wiggled around, "Oh my god!! That's so cold!! You suck so bad Evans!"

Chris’ boisterous laugh echoed amongst the secluded air as he hopped up quickly before she could retaliate. Noelle tried to throw more snow at him but he ducked away quickly. Instead, he grabbed her waist from behind causing her to drop the handful of snow.

“Chris!!” She squealed. He twirled her in the air as they both laughed, despite the coldness that stung their faces. A few more twirls and spins, making them both dizzy, he gently put her down. Slightly out of breath, Chris chuckled, pushing loose strands of her hair off her face and stared into her hazel eyes. Noelle smiled shyly, as his gaze lingered a little longer than usual and the way he was looking at her sent butterflies all through her body. “What?” She blushed, nuzzling her face into his chest.

“You look so beautiful right now. These snowflakes in your hair. It’s really cute.” Chris’ arms immediately enveloped her small frame and he let out a soft exhale as warmth flooded his chest, his stomach flip-flopping as he felt her arms return his embrace. He kissed the top of her head, sighing at the joy he felt so deeply in his body, "I don't think I've ever been this happy."

Looking into his electric blue eyes, she agreed with a nod. "I'm freezing. Why don't we go inside so you can warm me up?" Noelle added with a wink and a nudge.

Raising his eyebrow, Chris led her toward the cabin, "Girl, don't go putting any ideas in my head."

"Chris…" She stopped him by tugging on his arm, her voice was quiet. He turned his body around, his face showing signs of confusion.

Until now, if he was thinking correctly at what she was suggesting, they hadn't been intimate with each other. Besides many make-out "marathons" as she liked to call them, most of their time together had been PG-13. This was new territory for both of them, Noelle had spent a long time healing from her previous relationship. Chris had been incredibly patient with her. In fact, this relationship was something of innocence for him, something he hadn't had with any woman in years. For Noelle, it had become a learning experience. Being with Chris taught her things about herself she never knew before, especially things about her body. He made her feel beautiful, strong, and sexy.

This man standing in front of her was what she wanted, what she needed. She ached for him so badly.

Standing on her tiptoes, her mouth made its way directly over his ear, "I want you to make love to me, Chris." She declared to him in a calm tone, although her body was shaking. Unsure if this was her nerves or the freezing temperature.

Noelle stood at the edge of the bed, watching with a stare, as his naked body walked towards her. It was as if he had plotted every move in his head, and made sure to cover every step planned. As soon as her bare skin hit the sheets she knew her body would give in completely. It was time for him to show her, to leave her helpless to his touch.

He started slowly as his hands caressed every part of her body. His mouth left trails of wet kisses from her neck to her chest, over her perky, pink nipples, down to her stomach. He paused for a single second to swirl his tongue around her belly button before continuing his descent down to her inner thigh. Chris could feel the heat radiating from her most private of areas and he smirked to himself before he flicked his tongue out across her other thigh. She moaned at this, gripping the bed sheets to gather some control. His mouth teasingly made its way back to her swollen lips and he kissed her with such urgency. Neither one of them had ever felt this together, it was electrifying and they couldn’t get enough. When they finally parted their lips, they were completely out of breath. She looked into his eyes and could see the concern written on his face, even though he tried to hide it. His eyes scanned every inch of her face as he gently pushed the hair off of her forehead.

Her hands instinctively cupped his face, "I want you." She stated firmly, although hardly audible above her own heart pounding in her ears.

He looked at her, unmoved except for the uncontrolled rise and fall of his chest. "Are you sure?" She smiled at him, shaking her head as a response, reassuring the feelings that flooded his body.

Chris rocked his hips in motion with hers, his skin hot and silky as he pushed deeper inside of her. Noelle's mouth nibbled and bit on his shoulders and neck. Her whispered moans were lost in his mind until he heard his name slip from her mouth, then he began to lose control. His hands caressed and stroked her sticky breasts while she gripped harshly at his back. The only thing that existed at that moment was them. Their sweat-covered bodies moved rhythmically together in a room lit by a warm fireplace, cascading the two with a warm orange glow of passion and heat.

Noelle's light sleep was disturbed as Chris's arm wrapped around her bare skin. She felt him bury his head in the crook of her neck and place two warm kisses one on top of the other, simultaneously pulling her even closer to his naked body. The thought of their night together planted a smile on her face. The feel of his fingers stroking her stomach caused a rush of butterflies to surge through her stomach all the way to her heart. She turned to face him, "Good morning." She said softly, stroking his beard with her hand.

"Mornin'." He replied smoothly, licking his lips and smiling a smile that matched hers perfectly. “Man, I kind of feel like a teenager again after that.” He let out a soft chuckle.

She rolled her eyes and yawned, turning back over so that the pair were in a spooning position, "You’re so silly.” She let out a big yawn, “I'm still sleepy." She snuggled herself into Chris’ body.

As she drifted to sleep, she felt a kiss on her temple and faintly heard his voice whisper in her ear, "I'm in love."

#chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fanfic #chris evans story #my first attempt #please be kind #fuck it here we go

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the-edge-of-great · 4 years

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(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ JATP WEEK - DAY ONE: FAVORITE CHARACTER(S) ♥

(i don’t have one favorite character, so i wrote something from different POVs of my main five :)) @jatp-week

also i forgot ghosts don’t sleep. we’re pretending like they do today

––––––

FLYNN

“Flynn, no pressure, but I’m performing tonight,” Julie says while Flynn is dipping her brush into the black paint. “So, you know, make me look pretty.”

Flynn gasps, almost jerking her hand when she looks back at Julie. Julie catches her wrist before she can fling paint everywhere. “You didn’t tell me you were performing tonight!” She pauses, looking over her current progress. “Now I’m nervous.”

“I have total faith in you.” Julie’s eyes dart between the paint brush and Flynn. “But show me how it looks so far?”

Pursing her lips, Flynn shakes her head, grabs Julie’s shoulder, and aims the paintbrush at her cheek. “No way. You didn’t let me see until you were finished.”

“But—” Julie freezes when the brush touches the corner of her mouth, and her eyes quickly move to something behind Flynn. Her lips begin to twitch into a smile.

“Hey, hey!” Flynn cries. “No moving.”

“The guys are confused.”

“I’ll explain. You stay quiet.” Flynn gives her a second to stop laughing before continuing the delicate line she’s trying to curve across her cheek. She takes it slow—agonizingly, if Julie’s eyes are anything to go by. “So,” Flynn begins loudly to the dense air around her, “we’re getting ready for Day of the Dead, which is a holiday Julie’s family celebrates. I’m trying to draw a sugar skull design on her, like she did for me.”

Julie has always been the residential sugar skull designer in the house. She always drew Carlos’ face, her mom’s, and Flynn and Carrie’s. Usually, she does herself too, but this is their first Day of the Dead without her mom, so Flynn has decided to take the paintbrush into her own hands and surprise Julie with something beautiful—or try to, anyway.

Flynn’s face looks awesome. Julie painted only half in white with a fissured edge down the center of her face. From her eyebrow to her cheekbone, her eye is circled in green and lined with black. Half of Flynn’s mouth stretching to the middle of her cheek has been transformed into skeletal teeth with a vibrant green glow. Her dimple has layers upon layers of dark and light green paint, carefully blended to look like a real skull indentation. Small black circles line the top of her eyebrow, and thin black lines curve across the empty space of her cheek.

For Julie, Flynn is going for a more simplistic look—all of the drawing talent in the friendship seems to have been swallowed up by Julie. Right now, she’s focused on a curved black mouth stretching from one ear to another, adding extra detail to her lips to create a stitched effect, and then? She’ll figure it out from there.

“And I’m not taking any opinions from them,” Flynn declares. She holds her breath until the second line finally meets her ear and she’s finished with the mouth base. “They’re probably biased.”

Julie smiles as Flynn grabs her paint cup. “Actually, Alex says he likes what you’re doing so far.”

“… I’m only taking feedback from Alex.”

Julie laughs. Flynn can’t fight back her smile. “Reggie and Luke like it too,” she adds, smiling up at the space behind the couch. “They think I look scary.”

“How do I look?” Flynn asks, brushing her hair out of her face and looking up at the air, as if she can really see them. She wishes she could.

“They say you look amazing,” Julie translates. “I did that, by the way, so thank you.” She grins at them. Someone must reach for a fist bump, cause she moves her fist across the couch.

“Okay, if you’re going to stay, you can’t make her laugh.” Flynn leans forward, carefully painting over the tip of her nose. “She has a performance tonight, and if I mess up, you can’t fix it. I forbid it.”

“No—” Julie whines.

“You knew the risks when you agreed to let me do this!”

“You didn’t give me a choice!”

Flynn smacks her. “Stop smiling!” But she’s grinning too. It’s hard—how can you look at your best friend and not smile? Flynn waves a hand between them. “Okay, okay, we have to get this done. My hand is tired.”

Julie chuckles. “Okay.” She glances to her left. “No, I didn’t tell anyone I’m performing tonight. It was supposed to be a surprise.”

“Then why’d you tell me?” Flynn demands.

“To make sure you don’t make me look bad!”

Flynn scoffs. Her finger lifts Julie’s chin to make their eyes meet. “Girl, it’ll take a lot of paint to make you look bad.”

Julie grins.

“And Luke better not have said something equally as cute just then.”

“No—” Julie says it like the idea is overly ridiculous, and Flynn wants to roll her eyes. “Of course not.”

“Mmhm. Hold still.”

Julie and Luke are dating. Flynn isn’t sure how that works—him being a ghost and everything—but Julie makes it make sense. And what can Flynn say? As long as Julie’s happy…

Forty-five minutes later, she sits back with a sigh to admire her work. One of the guys poofed into Julie’s room to grab her makeup bag, so Julie’s eyes are shining with pink and purple eyeshadow to match the pink patch surrounding her right eye. Flynn finished Julie’s eye with a thin black ring and pink and purple circles curved halfway around the top and bottom of her eye. Her nose is black—Flynn’s sure she’ll add more detail in her room later. Then Flynn will complain that she messed with a masterpiece, even though she’ll love whatever additions Julie draws in.

“Wow, okay,” Julie says, looking at herself in her phone’s camera. “This looks so good. Way to pop off, Flynn.”

Flynn waves herself. “Thank you, thank you. It’s my hidden talent.”

Julie grins over her phone. They share a beat of silence before bursting into laughter. Julie leans forward, throwing an arm around Flynn’s shoulders and holding her phone above their heads. They take bursts of pictures, some serious, most silly. They play with Snapchat filters, film TikToks. It’s fun—Day of the Dead is always fun. Especially this year: the year Julie found her music again.

–––––

LUKE

He knocks before entering her room. As he passes through the door, he can hear Flynn and Carlos arguing about what color icing should go on the cupcakes. Alex and Reggie are down there too; he hopes Alex doesn’t let Reggie do anything crazy tonight.

Julie’s sitting in front of her mirror, humming and painting over her eye. She glances at him as she walks in.

Luke chuckles. “Flynn’s not going to be happy you’re changing her design.” He pulls her desk chair over and takes a seat next to her.

“I’m not changing it.” Julie dips her brush into pink paint. “I’m just… adding some stuff. I had an idea.”

“Flowers?”

“Dahlias.” She side eyes him and smiles. “My mom loved dahlias.” She balances her palette on her knees, steadying it with one hand while leaning forward to paint a second flower at the corner of her eyebrow.

“Here,” Luke offers, reaching under her arm to grab the paint. He holds the palette next to her, and when she reaches over to dip her brush, she smiles in thanks. “So, what exactly is Day of the Dead?”

“First of all, it’s usually pronounced Día de los Muertos,” she begins. Oh God, he loves when she speaks Spanish. “It’s a three day festival where we celebrate the lives of those we’ve lost. My dad’s side is coming over—we always celebrate with the Molinas. My mom was Puerto Rican; they don’t really observe this holiday. But she celebrated with my dad when they first started dating, and she fell in love with the holiday.”

“What’s so great about it?”

Julie waves a hand at her face. “The makeup. The costumes. The music, dancing, food… Just having family around. Being completely immersed in our culture.” She shrugs at him. “We speak Spanish sometimes around the house, but it’s my grandparents’ first language. They had to learn English when they first came to America, but they prefer Spanish.”

“Where’d they come from?”

“Panama.” Julie pauses, carefully painting leaves around the base of her dahlia. “My grandparents have ofrendas set up at their house—ofrendas are altars where we leave offerings for those who have passed. Tonight, we’re going to the cemetery to visit Mom’s grave.”

He notices the way she falters when she mentions her mom. He hates when that happens; always wants to kiss away the sadness. When Julie puts down her paintbrush, he takes her hand in his.

“Hey,” he whispers, running his thumb over her knuckles.

Julie takes a deep breath. “We didn’t celebrate last year; it was too close to Mom passing away.” She shrugs. “We didn’t have it in us.”

“This is your first year without her,” Luke realizes quietly.

“We have an ofrenda downstairs for her. Dad and Carlos did most of it. I was supposed to find some stuff in the studio, but—” She shakes her head. “It’s just weird. This was her favorite holiday, and now she’s—” Julie rolls her eyes. “I know it’s been a year, but—”

“Hey,” Luke interrupts. He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers linger against her skin, cupping her cheek, mindful of the paint. “This is your first year without her. It’s okay to still be sad, Jules.”

Julie’s next breath is shaky; her eyes are glossy as she looks away. “Can’t cry,” she mumbles, shaking her head. “Flynn will kill me.”

Luke laughs. Behind him, he hears the whoosh of Alex and Reggie poofing in her room. Julie smiles weakly at them.

“Were we interrupting?” Reggie asks, raising his eyebrows knowingly.

Alex shakes his head. “Sorry. He kept stealing Flynn’s cupcakes to give to Carlos, and I knew he’d either scare your tía or Flynn would hit him with a spatula if we didn’t get out of there.”

“Carlos deserved to win—”

Julie laughs out loud. She wipes at her eyes carefully; Luke hopes she’s forgotten her grief for now. Luke grins at her. He loves her laugh. Have I mentioned he’s kinda just in love with her?

“We have a little bit before my family arrives,” Julie says, checking her phone. She tugs her lip between her teeth. “And I have extra paint…?”

Reggie bounces on his feet. “Yes!” he cries. “I want a face painting!”

As soon as Luke steps away from the chair, Reggie is there, knees bumping against Julie’s. “Make me look cool.”

Alex lays across her bed, resting his chin in his hands as he watches them. Luke hands the palette to Julie and steps out of her way. While she works on pouring more paint out, he dips his head and presses a soft kiss to her hair. Then he takes a seat next to Alex.

Luke grins. “I want next!”

–––––

REGGIE

He knows the party is really in full swing when the sugar skulls are beginning to set in and the children running around are almost as loud as Julie’s cousins playing music in the living room. Carlos’ real teeth are black; they match the set Julie painted on him. It looks a little creepy; his tía Victoria demands he go brush every time he grins at her in passing.

Reggie ducks past people as if they won’t pass through him; it’s still weird to him, and he knows they feel the same way. At some point, he was separated from his friends. He sees Luke and Julie every now and then—Julie’s making her rounds with her family, and Luke is by her side, always—but he hasn’t seen Alex in a while. He wonders, in the back of his mind, if Alex is even still around. Would he leave a party? He’s done it before. If there’s a chance he can hangout with Willie? No doubt. But would he leave Julie’s party to hangout with Willie? Hm… nah.

His favorite thing, he thinks as he walks through the house, is the atmosphere. There are so many people around—and most are Ray’s siblings! Julie mentioned in the middle of face painting that Latino families are often big, but he wasn’t expecting this! He loves it, though. Sometimes he lingers in a room before moving on, and he hears stories about Ray from his siblings: childhood mishaps and teenage antics.

And with so many siblings comes cousins. They range in age, from Carlos’ to Reggie’s. He overhears Carlos tell the other kids about the ghosts that haunt their house—Reggie leaves with a personal promise to prove him right later.

On his second walk through the living room, he finally spots his friends: Alex is sitting on the arm of the couch next to Flynn with Luke next to him. Julie stands beside an older man with a long beard and a guitar on his lap. Just as Reggie’s about to cross the room to them, something catches his eye.

It’s a shelf to his left, spotted with candles, photos, and flowers. He steps closer, curious. There’s a picture of Julie’s mom in a frame on top, he thinks. She looks… familiar. On the first shelf down is a pair of drumsticks and guitar picks. Reggie frowns. Why are there… drumsticks? He reaches for them. They couldn’t be Alex’s… could they? Why would his drumsticks be—

“I told you our house is haunted!” Carlos cries, and that’s when Reggie notices how quiet everything is suddenly. The drumsticks bounce against his fingers and roll back against the shelf wall.

“Reggie,” Alex hisses behind him.

“Dude, your drumsticks are up here!” Reggie cries.

“My—What?”

Julie moves when no one else does. She’s not looking at Reggie, but he begins apologizing anyway, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare everyone.”

“It’s okay,” she says quietly, reaching for the sticks. “Whose are…?”

“I found them in a box of your mother’s things in the studio,” Ray explains, walking over.

Reggie throws a knowing look at Alex. Alex frowns and summons his drumsticks. They appear in his hand in a flash, and when Reggie turns back, there’s still a pair in Julie’s hand.

“Oh,” she says. “I didn’t know she played.”

Ray chuckles. “Your mother played every instrument she could. Now, there’s a difference in playing and actually sounding good… Drumming is not something she excelled at.”

This earns a round of laughter from their family. From Julie, who’s beaming under her makeup at the new information. From Alex, who adds a “If that isn’t a mood” under his breath.

“What—” Luke argues. “Dude, you’re literally a drummer.”

“I make it look easy.”

Luke rolls his eyes.

“The guitar picks are hers too,” Ray adds, pushing them into his hand. “Look, they have the logos from each of the bands she was in.”

Julie looks them over. “I’m sorry.” She shakes her head. “I should’ve grabbed these from the studio. You told me to find things for her ofrenda, but I—”

“Hey, it’s okay mija,” Ray interrupts. He squeezes her shoulder. “It was actually fun going through her old stuff again. I, personally, haven’t seen these in years.”

Reggie realizes he’s smiling long before Julie finds her strength again. He loves the father-daughter moments they have, even though he has a nagging feeling that he should be over by Luke and Alex and not intruding. Their relationship is addicting, though. He’s never had that with his father.

Maybe… that’s a can of worms to open on another day.

“Speaking of talent,” the man with the guitar says, “Julie? Cantar para nosotros?”

Reggie doesn’t know what he said, but Julie does. She nods. As they part ways—Ray moving past to fix the ofrenda, Reggie walking toward his friends, and Julie heading for the front of the room—Reggie squeezes Julie’s shoulder in passing. They share a quick smile.

“Good luck,” he says. She can’t respond, but he knows her smile is for him.

–––––

ALEX

Alex has never experienced this type of music live. They have a whole band up there—two guitarists, a woman sitting on a cajón box, and Julie with vocals in the center.

“And now you see Julie’s other band,” Flynn whispers to them. “The Molinas.”

The song begins softly. Alex can’t understand anything Julie’s singing, but he doesn’t have to know the words to hear her voice. As the beat picks up, so does her volume. He can see the moment she loses herself completely to the music; it’s the same at their own concerts: her eyes squeezing shut, one hand pressed in front of her and the other at her side. She can’t stand still, either. Julie steps over her younger siblings sitting on the ground carefully, but she’s bouncing on the soles of her feet. The music’s contagious—by the time she’s danced around the room and made it back to where she started, the whole room is clapping on beat. They’re grinning at each other, some singing along, some cheering.

Alex can’t fight a smile. It’s impossible. He looks at Luke and Reggie—they mirror him. The energy Julie and her family has created is infectious, as music should be; even if he still doesn’t know what she’s saying.

Julie ends the song on her own with a stretched out note, instruments falling away with each beat she holds in a breath he can’t believe is possible. Everyone watches with bated breath, anticipation, building excitement for this girl. Julie Molina—Alex shakes his head in disbelief. What a damn star.

Flynn leaps to her feet when Julie finally takes a breath. “WOO!” she shouts. “Go off girl!”

Alex finds himself laughing when the room erupts into cheers. Luke is practically vibrating with excitement. Reggie shouts with Flynn.

Julie takes a bow, shoulders bouncing with quickened breath and eyes shining under the dark makeup.

Flynn yanks her into a tight hug. “Oh my gosh, that was incredible!” she cries.

“Seriously,” Alex agrees. “You killed it.” He fist bumps her, hidden from the rest of the room in front of Flynn.

“I have no idea what you said, but it was beautiful,” Reggie adds, starstruck.

Luke grins at her. “You never cease to amaze me, Jules.”

As the excitement dies down, so does the party. The family disperses in groups until Carlos and Julie are hugging tía Victoria goodbye, and Ray is closing the door to a finally quiet home.

“So,” Ray says, turning to his kids. “One last thing to do tonight.”

Carlos nods. “I’ll grab the candles.”

"And I'll get… everything else," Julie adds. She glances at Alex and the others on her way up the stairs.

They meet her in her room. Alex sits on her bed. "So, what's next?"

"We're going to the cemetery to visit Mom's grave," Julie explains, opening her closet. She grabs a bag and joins Alex on the bed. "You guys can come if you want. People light up the graves with candles and lights—it's beautiful."

Sounds beautiful, but—Alex looks over at Luke and Reggie. They meet his gaze with as much hesitation as he feels.

"I think we're going to hang back," Luke admits softly. "It's, um… I think it's kind of weird for us, you know? Since we're…"

Julie blinks. "Oh, right. Duh. Of course." She shakes her head. "That's okay."

Alex smiles. "But we'll be here when you get home."

She nods, returning his smile. Her eyes flicker to something behind him, and she hurries around the bed. Alex is just turning to her when Reggie gasps.

“The box," he whispers, eyes wide.

"Don't act like at least one of you hasn't been in here already," Julie mutters, opening the box on her bed.

Alex and Reggie throw a look at Luke, who's chewing his lip sheepishly.

"What're you doing?" Luke asks, moving to her side.

"I—" Julie quickly tucks a piece of paper into her pocket. "I'm just… It's an offering for her."

Luke frowns. "Okay. Sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"No, it's—"

"Julie!" Ray calls up the stairs. "You ready?"

Julie sighs. "Yeah, dad!" She shifts her weight, glancing between them. "I'll tell you guys later, okay?"

Reggie nods. "Yeah, of course."

She takes two steps toward the door before turning back to them. "Group hug?" she asks hopefully. "Real quick?"

Reggie immediately wraps his arms around her. "Like you even have to ask," he mutters. They chuckle. Alex rolls off the bed, and he and Luke join in. They've been doing this a lot more: hugging. Ever since they've been able to touch each other, this has become their thing. Not that Alex is complaining.

When Julie pulls away, she's smiling so wide. Alex smiles back, but he can't help thinking there's something behind that skeletal grin. He doesn't ask; none of them do. They let her go, despite the feeling gnawing at him. Later, he decides. Hopefully they can figure it out later.

–––––

JULIE

The cemetery was always Julie’s mom’s favorite part of Día de los Muertos. There’s a chilling beauty in a sea of lights across acres of land, crowded with people who can all relate on some level.

Rose Molina’s grave is lined with white and blue candles—she always loved the ones that smelled like the ocean. There are guitar picks scattered across the stone, most of which didn’t come from them. Ray suggested previous bandmates; Julie has never met the previous bandmates. She wants to one day; hopes to.

They stay with her for a while. She doesn’t know how long they sit by her, telling her stories about what’s happening in the past year. They have a lot to catch up on—Julie’s sure this is Carlos’ first visit since she died. It’s definitely Julie’s. Her dad’s been here a few times, only once or twice. She wonders if there have been any recent visits.

There are tears in her eyes when they finally stand to leave. Her dad catches it somehow—she’s sure her dark makeup shadowed by the dim light would’ve covered her—and before she can blink, he’s wrapping his arms around her in a tight hold. She would’ve buried her face in his chest if she had washed her paint off. But she didn’t, so she doesn’t hug as tight as she wants, and she pulls away too soon.

As they’re leaving, Julie remembers the note in her pocket. “Wait,” she says, falling out of step with them. “I forgot something.” She lingers, shifting her weight. “Can I meet you in the car?”

Carlos frowns. Dad nods. “Of course,” he says softly.

Julie watches them go, disappearing in the crowd. In just a blink, she’s alone. The note is heavy in her chest. With a deep breath, she turns back to her mom.

“Hey,” she says, sinking to her knees. “I have something I want to show you.” She crosses her legs under her and unfolds the note in her hands. “Remember that song we started writing while you were in the hospital? Stand Tall? We never… got to finish it…” With trembling hands, Julie slips the note beneath a picture frame Carlos left at the base of the stone. It’s a moment captured after Julie’s performance at The Orpheum: her, Carlos, Dad, and tía Victoria, posing under the Julie and the Phantoms sign.

“Well, my friend Luke helped me write that second verse,” she continues. “He’s—He’s kind of more than my friend. You know who he is, and what he is.” She laughs. “Don’t judge me too hard for this relationship, okay? He’s really… a great guy. They all are: Alex, Luke, and Reggie. They’ve helped me in… more ways that I can put into words.” The next time she laughs, her voice is shaking. She sniffs; the black on her nose smears across her hand when she rubs her face. “Anyway, um, I just wanted to give you this. And I wanted to tell you thanks. Thanks for sending the guys to me. Thanks for giving me the courage to get back into music. Thanks for…”

Julie shakes her head. The tears are back—she tries swallowing them back. Maybe if she can just hold it in for a little bit longer, at least until she takes the paint off—

“I really miss you, Mom,” she says carefully, slowly, like every word takes all of her strength. “A lot. Every day. I miss you. I miss you. I love you.”

Someone stops behind her stone. Two people, actually. Julie sniffs. She wipes at her nose again; she doesn’t care what she looks like now.

“Julie?”

That’s weird. Sounds almost like—

“Carrie?”

Julie brushes off her pants when she climbs to her feet. She sniffs again, eyeing the pair across from her: Carrie and Trevor Wilson. Trevor is holding a bouquet of flowers; it takes her breath away—dahlias.

“We were just coming out to pay our respects,” Trevor says. He separates a dahlia and hands it to her.

“Nice makeup,” Carrie says, not unkindly. She’s actually smiling, kind of like she used to when they were friends.

“Thanks, I—Flynn did it. Well, not…” Julie gestures to the smudged paint.

“Right.” Carrie reaches into her bag and offers a wad of tissues. Julie takes them with a smile. They share a nod, Julie thanks Trevor for the flower, and they go their separate ways. At least Julie doesn’t feel as heavy as usual when she walks away from Carrie.

At home, when her face is clean of any paint and she can see herself again, she steps into her animal slippers and makes her way down to the studio. The guys are waiting, just like they said they would. They smile when they see her, and she smiles back, but her gaze settles on the piano, and then she can’t look away from the piano.

Two years ago, she played a song while her mom strutted around the studio, pretending to sing terribly and still managing to sound like an angel. The year before that, Julie and her family sat on the floor surrounded by candles and told ghost stories because an earthquake knocked out their electricity (that’s where Carlos’ fascination comes from). The year before that, they—

Julie’s lip quivers. Her fingers curl around the arm of the couch, her vision blurs, and everything hurts. Someone’s in front of her in seconds—it’s Luke. He’s holding her close, tight against him, fingers in her hair, and she just breaks.

Her hands tighten into fists around his shirt. She buries her face in his shoulder; now that she’s started, she can’t stop. She tries to speak, to explain, but—

“Shh,” he whispers. He rubs circles into her back. “I know. I know, baby.” He kisses her hair. “It’s okay, Jules.”

She doesn’t try speaking again, and when Alex and Reggie join the hug, she just cries harder.

When she wakes the next morning, she’s on the couch. Luke’s behind her, an arm around her waist, legs tangled. Alex is in front of her, sitting against the couch with his cheek pressed against the cushion. She grimaces for him; that can’t be comfortable. On the floor, with his head in Alex’s lap is Reggie, curled in a ball against the couch. They never left her side last night.

With a heart swelling with warmth, Julie snuggles closer to Luke. Her movement causes him to hold tighter, which takes her breath away.

Julie smiles at something across from her before going back to sleep.

Laying on the coffee table in front of Alex, at the edge, as if it doesn’t want to leave her side either, is the dahlia.

#jatp week #julie and the phantoms #juke #julie molina #luke patterson #flynn jatp #alex jatp #reggie jatp #jatp #eog writes

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iceeckos12 · 4 years

Text

a study of hands

thinking about jon’s burned hand. warning for graphic discussion of burn/burn scars.

edit: had to remake this post since i accidentally deleted the read more when i was editing it a;slkdfal;skdjf

Georgie isn’t there when Jon gets home.

Small mercies, he thinks hysterically, distantly, squeezing his wrist. His right hand doesn’t feel like a hand, doesn’t feel like skin layered on sinew and meat and muscle layered on bone. It feels like someone stuck a ball of agony, a ball of pain so incandescent that it transcends his comprehension, on the end of his arm. He doesn’t dare look at it. Just the smell is enough to make him feel sick.

He staggers into the bathroom and fumbles with the tap, turning the water on as cold as it will go. He doesn’t have the strength to get ice cubes from the freezer, even though he knows that it will help. (He’s not sure how he knows that it will help, but some part of his brain is screaming don’t cover it, that will trap the heat in, put it in ice water and keep it there, but it won’t do much for a third degree burn, you need a skin graft, you—)

He stares at the bottom of the tub for a moment, wondering why it isn’t filling up the way it should. Then he remembers that he needs to plug the drain, because otherwise the water is going to keep swirling away, away, down the plumbing and deep into the earth, like—like—

He twitches his hand. He doesn’t mean to, or maybe he does, he’s not sure, and the pain is so intense that he immediately vomits into the water.

The drain wasn’t plugged, he thinks hysterically. Small mercies.

He doesn’t go looking for Mike Crew the next day.

He can’t. Georgie had poked her head in when he woke up, and he’d rasped, “I’m going to have a bit of a lie-in.” And he’d said, “I’m fine, just not feeling well.” And he’d whispered, “Don’t worry about me, just...just—don’t worry about me.”

His whole body feels like it’s been lit aflame, like he’s on the shore of a burning sea that keeps lapping in and out, in and out. The waves keep crashing in and out, in and out, breathtaking and exhausting.

The burn, when he can finally bring himself to look at it, is ugly, even worse than the worm scars. Blackened and charred around the edges, red and mottled in the deepest parts. An actual, literal brand in the form of a handshake. He wonders if, whenever he shakes someone’s hand, their fingers will slot neatly into the confines of the scar.

Come on. It won’t hurt.

He chokes on a sob and rides the agony into oblivion.

Jon used to have pretty handwriting.

He knows that’s a weird thing for a boy to have. It was just another thing that they used to make fun of him for in school, but he used to be defiantly proud of it. It was something that he worked for. He used to open calligraphy books and copy each painstaking letter onto the paper, his tongue poking out from between his teeth, until they looked just right, every time.

He’s not sure why he cherished it so much. Possibly because he had so little to be proud of when he was young. He was stubborn and a know-it-all and difficult, but at the very least he had gorgeous handwriting. His classmates used to pay him to write love letters.

It’s not something that he thinks about until he gets back from that whole debacle with Mike Crew and Daisy and Elias—and reaches for a pen. His right hand throbs in agony, and his fingers don’t bend quite right, and the pen skitters to the ground and across the floor.

He stares at it numbly for a moment, frozen in place, lips parted. Then his hand throbs, and he sinks into his chair, breathing through the pain, as he’s become used to doing.

He hadn’t thought about—about his fingers not quite bending all the way anymore, about his grip not having the same strength that it used to—

Even after the agony subsides into a low, manageable simmer, he keeps breathing, counting the beats, head bowed over his curled and mangled hand.

He uses Institute funds to buy a machine that makes labels for him. In the meantime, he practices with his left hand when he thinks no one else is looking, putting each painstaking letter to paper.

He’s been wearing button-ups since his first day at the Magnus Institute.

He remembers wearing a rented suit to his job interview, nervous and fresh-faced and eager to please. Elias had taken one look at him, smiled, and told him to relax, that they were a little more casual around here, that it was fine.

Jon had insisted on the button-ups. He’d turned their care into a bit of a ritual, making sure that each one was starched and ironed, lines crisp and precise. That was how he wanted to be seen: crisp and precise. Qualified.

The execution of that intent had been flawed, though. He had sabotaged himself by shutting his eyes to the truth of the supernatural, and it had eventually turned against him.

He looks at his many shirts now, and all he can feel is dread. Each button is shaped like misery, the starched fabric sandpaper. He knows without trying that he will be on the floor, breathing through the pain, if he tries to put one of those shirts on.

He tries anyway.

He wears things to work that he never would have in the past. An open jacket layered over a t-shirt, tucked into the hem of black jeans. A chunky cardigan made of smooth, comfortable fabric over a long, serious skirt. Enormous sweaters that he can bury himself in. Things that are easy to put on, easy to wear.

His skin itches when the others look at him.

He thinks that he understands what Elias means about choices now. Regardless of whether or not he wanted to become a monster, the choices he made lead to him becoming one. Regardless of whether or not he wants to be vulnerable, he chooses to do so.

(The other choice is struggling over the buttons of one of his formal shirts, his hand going more and more clawlike with effort. It doesn’t feel much like a choice at all.)

Jon picks up the mug, and Martin lets out a shout of horror and scoops it from his grip.

“Jon, that’s really hot, be careful!” he admonishes. He’d seized the tea roughly, but his grip goes gentle as he carefully lifts Jon’s scarred palm, fingers fluttering over the warped scars. “This is your bad hand, too—does it hurt?”

Jon stares at his hand too, at the still healing skin, at the way the reds bleed into pinks bleed into more red. The scars create deep rents in his skin, almost to the bone in some places. He thinks about monsters and pain and emotions and apathy, and the indistinct lines they create.

“No,” he says honestly. There had been nothing to feel.

”You used to plait your hair,” Daisy says.

It’s been quiet for several hours now. Jon thinks that’s the thing he likes best about Daisy: her presence is undemanding now. Not calm, perhaps, but not frenetic or wild, either. Focused. Unconcerned until you give her a reason to be otherwise.

She gets concerned about a lot more than Jon thought she would. Her patient, searching gaze seeks out the exhaustion in his bones, the hungry way his body curls in on itself, increment by increment. She is in stark opposition to the cold and uncaring Eye, who would let Jon cannibalize himself just for a little entertainment.

(She is in stark opposition to herself less than a year ago. A blunted knife, a dulled edge.)

“I did,” Jon concedes.

Daisy waits, because he usually elaborates. It’s about choices, though. Choices are something that he’s thought about a lot in the past few months, especially after his coma, especially after the Buried. He wants to tell Daisy, but he doesn’t want to feel as though he was guided into it.

It’s ridiculous. It’s—he knows that it’s silly. Nonverbal cues are a language that he had to learn, so he should respond. But—he wants to be asked.

After a beat, she asks, “Why don’t you anymore?”

Jon lets out a gusty sigh and raises his right hand so she can see the twisting, ropey mess. He concentrates hard, pressing his lips together as he closes it as far as he can, shaking the whole time.

Daisy sighs, a sound sympathetic to his own.

Jon lowers his right hand again, letting it rest on its side, half curled.

“I could do it for you,” she says.

Jon hesitates for a second—

(Georgie was the person who taught him how to plait his hair. His gran had always cut it short herself, insisting that this was easiest and it saved money anyway, even though Jon had always wanted to grow it out. By the time he met Georgie, his hair was loose around his ears, and he had no idea how to take care of it.

A year after they met, Georgie drunkenly tripped over the couch and told him that she was going to plait his hair. She’d tried to do something difficult, too difficult for her inebriated state, before dragging Jon into a clumsy, playful kiss. He’d responded enthusiastically, but in the back of his mind, he remembered the tug, the sensation of twisting strands, and it had felt good.

She’d done it for him for almost two years. She’d force him to sit on the floor while she sat on the couch, and then she’d bodily drag him as close as possible before turning his ever-growing hair into something beautiful and complicated. Just like you, she’d told him, half-serious.

One day, she’d laid her hands over his and said, “Let me show you how, for when I’m not here.”)

—before nodding, and forces himself to remain very still as Daisy gets to her feet and approaches him from behind.

In the Buried, Daisy’s hand had been small and tight. He hadn’t been able to feel the warmth of it, or the minute scars pricking her skin. He’d gripped back as tightly as his burned hand could, which he’s sure wasn’t very tight at all. There’s a lesson in that, too, but it’s more specific. Intent and execution.

Daisy’s thumb had carefully rubbed the edges of the scars, touching patterns in the divots in his hand. Her hand had fit kindly.

Jon shivers at the first gentle touch in his long tresses. He thinks about the duality of knives and let’s go through the voicebox, and about gentle understanding in the crushing sensation of the Buried. Execution, with nebulous, incomprehensible intent.

Martin holds Jon’s hands in his and looks at them like they’re beautiful.

Jon’s still getting used to that. The soft, fond way Martin’s eyes alight on him when he’s barefoot in the kitchen. The teasing grin when Jon glares mockingly across the space between them. The exasperation whenever Jon skips a meal or stays up until the darkest hours of the night.

He wants to be with Martin and he chooses to be with Martin. His intent is synonymous with its execution.

He keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop. He takes long walks in the burgeoning light of dawn, the hem of his skirt getting soaked in the morning dew. He retreats into himself when his leg and his hand and his everything are all screaming at him in tandem, a symphony of past and current aches.

Martin always welcomes him home. Martin’s gaze is that of the dawning sun, soft and radiant. He tucks Jon’s fingers over his and sweetly kisses each scarred knuckle, reverent, like he’s holding something precious.

Jon learns by example. When Martin wakes in the middle of the night, his eyes distant and hazy, Jon clumsily turns up Martin’s hand and presses his lips against the warm, smooth palm. When the fog rolls in around them, Jon carefully holds Martin’s face between his hands (one half-curled, the other firm and steadying) and leans their foreheads together.

#tma #tma spoilers #jon #jonmartin #daisy #my writing #fic #warning for burn description

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jalapeno-princess · 4 years

Text

All I Need is You

(Guys I miss Mark so fucking much *Cue Tori Vega I think we all miss Mark)

Songwriter Mark X Reader

Genre: Extremely fluffy angst (is that even a thing?)

Word Count: 5.8K

Summary: For all your life, your parents raised you to be the perfect daughter of every parent’s dreams. You did every single thing your parents forced you to do and never did you complain about anything they’d make you do, no matter how badly you wanted to. That all changed the day your path collides with Mark Tuan. After being stripped of your childhood completely in order to be respective and follow your parent’s desires, Mark shows you how beautiful life can be when you do the things you want to. Mark is the breath of fresh air from a life you feel so suffocated in. For the duration of your relationship, you did your best in hiding him from your parents in fear of them disapproving of the older boy. However, once you graduate from college, you decide you are old enough to make your own decisions and you build the courage to introduce your boyfriend to your family. The night starts off without a hitch; everyone seems to really like him up until your mom asks him what he does for a living. That’s when things take a turn for the worst and your mom gives you an ultimatum; to chose between the love of your life and your family.

A/N: Hey guys, so I’ve been wanting to write an imagine based on the song Paris by the chainsmokers for the longest time and here it is. Only when I reached the middle of writing the story did I realize this is the complete opposite of my other story “Second Chances” LOL. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this story (most of it is written in past tense so I hope you don’t get confused).

We were staying in Paris To get away from your parents And I thought, "Wow If I could take this in a shot right now I don't think that we could work this out" Out on the terrace I don't know if it's fair but I thought "How Could I let you fall by yourself While I'm wasted with someone else

"If we go down then we go down together They'll say you could do anything They'll say that I was clever If we go down then we go down together We'll get away with everything Let's show them we are better Let's show them we are better Let's show them we are better

“Hey, everything okay?”

It was currently 2:45 a.m. and normally, you’d be fast asleep right now but you couldn’t help feeling as if the bed grew more spacious and colder than it was when you first went to sleep. Mark was your own personal furnace; the two of you fell asleep pretty early after a long day of sightseeing and an even longer night of love making.

After multiple rounds of his all but gentle kisses on your neck, jaw and chest as he rammed himself in and out of your velvety walls, you both were too tired to get up and clean yourselves off. He immediately pulled you in to his chest and wrapped his arms tightly around your waist while placing his face in the crook of your neck and whispering sweet nothings until his dreams finally took a hold of him. It’s been like this for the last three weeks since you and Mark ran away to Paris in the hopes of hiding from your extremely overprotective and non-understanding parents.

You’d go sight seeing, visit a couple of museums, cute little coffee shops and sometimes you’d even go to a farmer’s market and you’d buy food to make for recipes you and Mark learned while watching whatever they had on television. Almost every single night ended up in sex; on a few occasions, there were drunken stupors where one of you or sometimes even both of you would have a little too much to drink and you’d have wild, kinky sex.

Then there were the days where you’d argue over minuscule and unnecessary things and usually Mark would be the first to give up and apologizing with his head between your thighs. Most of your love making sessions were soft, passionate and very romantic.

To strangers or people who weren’t familiar with him, Mark gave off an intimidating and sometimes standoffish kind of vibe. It was only because he was actually very shy and soft spoken and those who actually knew him were aware of how talkative and outgoing he could be around those he was comfortable with.

Unfortunately, your parents were the kind of people you’d always sought praise from and you’d do whatever you could to make them proud. Ever since you were a little girl, you went along with every command they would give you, you never complained about the clubs they’d put you in or the clothes they had you wear. It wasn’t as if you were the only child, you had three other siblings but since you were the youngest, your parents were a little more strict with you even if you never gave them a reason to question or mistrust you.

It wasn’t until Mark came in to your life that your relationship with your parents took a completely different turn. You’ve known Mark since middle school and although you hardly ever talked to him, you did admire him from afar and you could only wish to build up the courage so that maybe one day, you’d be able to at least say hello.

He was always such a social butterfly and made friends with anybody he’d interact with. All the girls in your grade had a crush on him, but you couldn’t blame them. Not only was he a sight for sore eyes, he was such a free spirit; he had decent grades and not once did the teachers have any problems with him like they did with his friends. But he was never one to genuinely care about his education, and unfortunately that was his downfall.

When you finally entered high school, it’s as if the world felt like it was time for you and Mark to come together and for your two worlds to become one. In your first semester, he was in almost every single one of your classes. You didn’t think you were the smartest person in your grade, but you did pretty well in all the subjects. All those years of long, grueling days of summer school actually paid off. Sometimes, you hated being the youngest.

Your parents expected so much out of you but they never seemed to care about anything that your two older brothers and your older sister did. They all got to join groups, clubs and sports that they genuinely liked whereas you were coerced in to learning how to play the violin and the cello. You were thankful that school was considerably easy for you seeing as how your parents made education your first priority.

While your brothers would play video games and your sister would talk on the phone with her friends, you’d be practicing math problems and read books about the civil war. You didn’t think you got to experience a legitimate childhood you’d witness all your classmates and friends had. For that reason alone, you always felt different from everybody else and it was the reason why you were so hesitant on continuing friendships with the few friends you did have from middle school.

You could never relate to anything they’d talk about; all their favorite movies they’d watch, the latest installment of Grand theft auto that they’d play, going to each other’s houses—you weren’t even allowed to cross the street by yourself let alone go out with your friends. Entering high school by yourself had to be one of the most scariest things you had to go through and because your siblings were at least five years older than you, none of them would be there at least if you needed someone to confide in or run to.

From all the stories you’d hear from each of them, their high school experiences were ones for the books. Both of your brothers joined each and every sport you could think of and your sister was the co-captain of the cheerleading team. She also had a few boyfriends in high school and you felt as if a lot of the mistakes she made were the reasons why your parents took complete control of your life.

It didn’t take long for Mark to acknowledge your existence; in fact, what you didn’t know was that back in middle school, he noticed you even if you didn’t realize it yourself. While all the girls would ogle over him and try to get his attention, he would find himself admiring you from afar.

Mark always thought you were so cute; you were always hesitant to answer the questions your teacher would ask you even if everyone was aware you knew the answer, whenever someone asked you for help you were always so quick to attend to them no matter what they were asking of you and he could never get the way you would blush when you were flustered out of his head.

He had no problem talking with other girls, but he’d become a mess at even just the thought of having to talk to you. Mark was quick to pick up on how you had most of your classes together, and he was going to use this to his advantage. Only a month in to school, both his algebra teacher and his language arts teacher pulled him to the side to tell him that he wasn’t doing too good in their classes. It wasn’t that Mark was purposefully failing his classes in order to get you to tutor him, he never was all that amazing in school to begin with.

High school wasn’t even half as easy as middle school was. Getting anything lower than a C wasn’t going to cut it and now that he had two Ds, he planned on asking you for some help. When Mark did approach you and asked you to help him catch up with a couple of missing assignments and to help teach him some algebra formulas, you had a hard time believing he was even talking to you. In the beginning of your tutoring sessions, he was always quite the gentleman.

He’d give you his full attention, always waited till you were done talking before he’d ask you a question, he’d tell you silly jokes so that it wasn’t always about studying and learning and sometimes he would drop you home after your meetings. It didn’t take long for your tutoring sessions to turn in to something more and only three months after getting to know each other, he asked you to be his girlfriend.

Dating Mark was a dream you never think would become a reality. He was extremely kind hearted and took care of you in ways you didn’t think you’d be able to experience. You were shocked when he confessed that he’s liked you for all these years, and you were quick to admit the same to him. Knowing how your parents could be, you decided to keep your relationship with Mark a secret and he was very understanding about the entire thing.

The two of you would sneak around during and after school for the entirety of your high school years and your love for one another only grew stronger as the time went by. You fell in love with him in tiny little coffee shops, in the back of the library where you’d be making out together when you were supposed to be studying. You’d lie to your parents and say you were preparing for tests and picking up on extra credit when really you’d be lying in the back of Mark’s truck, cuddling in his arms while looking up at the stars.

Mark did a great job at helping you take your mind off of how perfect you were supposed to be. He was the breath of fresh air that you’ve always craved and now that you had him, you didn’t think you would be able to let him go. Ever. He made you feel like a little kid again; you actually got to experience all sorts of things you’ve wanted to do as a child through your relationship. It didn’t take you long to fall in love with him.

Being in love was an indescribable feeling. Every time something good happened to you, he was the first person you wanted to tell and whenever something bad happened, he was the shoulder you wanted to cry on. He always knew the right thing to say; but if there ever was a time he didn’t know how to respond to something, he would just hold you comfortingly while whispering sweet, encouraging words in your ear.

People claimed that perfect people didn’t exist and if that’s the case, then Mark came pretty close. You felt as if he was sent in your life to be your safe haven; your sanity. The burst of color in your world of black and white. He had a habit of telling you he loved you every single day and even if he weren’t to do so, his actions spoke for him. You don’t know how you did it, but you actually did a great job in hiding Mark from your parents for the last few years.

There were times where you did come pretty close to getting caught; whether it was because of how loud you didn’t think you were while talking on the phone with him, or when you’d come back home with swollen lips and tousled hair. It didn’t matter to you though. A part of you was ready for whatever response you’d receive from your parents. Honestly, Mark was the kind of guy you’d bring home to your parents; so you weren’t afraid of the idea of introducing him to your family.

The only thing you were really worried about was what they would say when they were to find out you were hiding a boyfriend from them for over six years. After graduating from high school, both you and Mark went straight in to college. You went in to study criminal law and he had high hopes of becoming an engineer. Three months in to college, Mark decided it wasn’t for him and as his girlfriend, although you were upset at the idea, you supported and trusted his choices.

College wasn’t for everybody. With that being said, it was then that you found out he wanted to become a songwriter. In the few years that you’ve known him for, not once did he ever talk about wanting to write songs. You didn’t think he was passionate about music in general let alone wanting to write music for artists but when he showed you a few of the songs he had wrote, with most of them being about you, you knew he was extremely talented.

Mark always had a way with words and now that you saw them written down on paper, you knew you’d continue to support his dreams and his future endeavors and that you would do anything to help him if he needed it. Before you knew it, four years came and gone and you graduated from college with your bachelor’s degree in criminal justice. It didn’t take too long for law firms to reach out to you with internships and to see if you were interested to work for their companies. Mark was also very successful with his career.

He started off small; he wrote a few things here and there for some up and coming artists but it wasn’t anything too major. No matter how patient he was, there were times he did grow discouraged and felt like giving up but you never allowed him to. You saw how passionate he was about writing. You’d watch him stay up trying to write down any ideas that would pop through his head.

The road to success wasn’t easy, but when he got an offer from a record company to write songs for a popular artist you both listened to, he was extremely over the moon and made sure to let you know your love, your patient, your support and your determination to help him succeed was what kept him going.

The day came where you felt like you were ready to tell your parents about the man you were head over heels in love with and the reaction you got wasn’t one you were expecting. When you brought him over for dinner, both your mother and your sister raved over how good looking he was and your brothers tried their best to come off as the older, overprotective brothers boyfriends wouldn’t want to mess with. But when they heard Mark played fortnite, they were sold.

Even your father took a liking to him once Mark told him his favorite football team were the Patriots. Everything seemed to be going perfectly and you were so upset with yourself for keeping him a secret for so long. It wasn’t until your mother asked him what he did for a living that things only went downhill from there. I’m a songwriter. You could still remember the grave look on your mom’s face and with the way she motioned for you to follow her and your father in to the living room while excusing the three of you from the table, you knew it wasn’t going to be good.

You were angry that she didn’t wait for dinner to be finished or even for Mark to go home before ridiculing him on his career. It was obvious that she wasn’t too happy to hear he was a musician but it didn’t matter what she thought. Hell, you didn’t care about what anyone in your family thought about him. You loved Mark, with every beat of your heart and there was nothing your parents could say or do to change your mind about him.

“You are to break up with that boy immediately.”

Your eyes widened in shock at your mother’s command and for the first time looking her, hell, looking at your parents, you didn’t feel afraid of them. This time, you had something beautiful worth fighting for. This wasn’t something minuscule; it wasn’t something you could just stop like piano lessons or tennis practice. This was an 8 year long relationship she was telling you to end and there was no way you were going to lose against your parents without putting up a fight.

“No.”

The scoff that came from your mother’s throat wasn’t unexpected. This was the first time ever you talked back to either of your parents. This was the first time you actually said the word no in your 23 years of existence and damn, it felt really good.

“Excuse me? Did you just tell your mother no? Y/n, he’s a musician! He will never be able to give you the life you deserve! That is not a career! You’ll be the one having to take care of your entire family, I refuse to let this man ruin your life. You’re going to throw away everything you’ve worked so hard for—for someone whose position in your life isn’t promised. You know better than this, there are plenty more men in the world with better jobs and probably better living situations. Mrs.Choi’s son is a—“

“I don’t give a shit about Mrs.Choi’s son or Mrs.Park’s son or anyone’s damn son for that matter. I love Mark. I am in love with Mark. I only want Mark. Mark is all I need. I don’t care about what his job title is. It makes him happy and he’s pretty fucking amazing at what he does. But like I said, I don’t give a shit what he does for a living. He could be a garbage man and I’d still love him with every fiber of my being because that’s what love is mom. Love is not money, it’s not a big mansion in Beverly Hills with a doctor husband and six cars I will probably never drive. Love is what I feel when I’m with Mark. He takes care of me. He makes me laugh when I’m sad, he makes me smile even in the most inconvenient situations. He does my laundry, cleans our apartment, blow dries my hair when I’m tired, takes me to and pays for all my doctor’s appointments. We’ve been together for almost 8 years and these last 8 years have been the best years of my entire life because of him. The two of you stripped away the entirety of my childhood from me and Mark was the fountain of youth to help me experience actually being a human.” If looks could kill, the glare your mother was sending you would have you six feet under, but you didn’t care.

“I’m not a little girl anymore. I’m grown. I’m an adult for crying out loud you guys can’t tell me what to do anymore. I’m sorry you can’t accept it but I love Mark and I plan on doing so for the rest of my life and there’s nothing either of you can say or do to change my mind.”

“If you leave with him tonight, you are never allowed back in to this house ever again.” The burst of confidence and bravery you had confessing your love for Mark and the fact that you had every intention of staying with him went right out the window at your mother’s ultimatum. Was she really making you choose between your boyfriend and your family? There was no way you could choose between the two of them. Yes, Mark was the best thing that’s ever happened to you. But to lose all contact with your family because your parents were being unfair and irrational with their decision? She didn’t even take the time to listen to your words; did she not care about your health, happiness and well-being? Here was a man putting her youngest daughter on a pedestal, giving her the entire world and more but yet she still couldn’t accept that. You didn’t know the consequences of your next few words, but it wasn’t even a question. “Mark, we’re leaving. Let’s go.”

Your boyfriend came out from the kitchen and you had a feeling he probably heard the entire conversation between you and your parents, but your mind was so focused on leaving before things could get any worse. “Y/n, wait, sweetie think about this—think about what you’re doing—are you really willing to give up your family for a boy?”

“A man—he’s a man and yes—he’s all the family I could ever need. He’s shown me more love and support in our 8 years of being together than either of you did in the last 23 years of my existence. If you were a really family, you’d accept Mark for who he is and what he does and you’d be happy with the fact that he takes such good care of me but no. Your pride, your reputation, your wealth, your social status and your ego are more important than my feelings and what I want. You don’t care about me. You never cared about me you just cared about what others would think about me and I’m sick of it. I’m done. Have a nice rest of your life. Assholes.”

You marched out of the house and a huge weight was lifted off of your shoulders. With the rate you were walking, your boyfriend had to practically jog to catch up with you because you were filled with so many different emotions. Anger. Sadness. Grief. But no regret, nor any remorse. You knew you made the right decision in choosing Mark because not only did you choose Mark, you chose yourself. You were no longer going to allow your parents to dictate your life anymore.

“Baby—are you alright?” You gave him a sad smile before stealing a soft kiss from the corner of his mouth.

“Maybe not right now, but I will be. Take me home Mark.” Your siblings tried to get in touch with you for weeks, trying to get you to come back and to talk things out with your parents, but the damage was done. Neither of them were going to accept your relationship. It was a tough pill to swallow, but you accepted it for what it was.

Even if one day they came around and accepted Mark being a songwriter, there was no way you could ever forget the look of disgust on your mom’s face when Mark said what his job was nor could you forget how your dad just stood there and said nothing. It genuinely showed that neither of your parents really cared about you even if you were the star child out of the four of you and that’s what was hurting you the most.

Mark did his best to try and take your mind off what had happened and every time you’d look at him while he was sleeping, while he was cooking the two of you dinner or while the two of you would shower together, you’d see the glint in his eyes as he looked at you like you were one of the seven wonders of the world and you knew you made the right choice. You’d pick him again and again every single time.

He never brought up the fact that your parents didn’t accept his passion but you were sure it must have hurt him. Especially because that’s was caused you to be cut off from your entire family, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t extremely content with your decision. A few weeks ago, Mark got a call from the record company he was working for and gave him the opportunity to travel around Europe to work with a couple of the entertainers there and he didn’t hesitate to ask you to tag along with him.

The adventure started off in Italy, then you found yourselves in London and Greece. Each and every city was more than you could even imagine. The scenery was so beautiful, the food was delicious, the people were so sweet and the fact that you got to experience it all with your soulmate; your favorite person was a feeling you would never be able to fathom in to words.

Paris had to be your favorite place you had visited so far and you were sure it had to deal with the fact that it was the city of love and you were making the most of it with the love of your life by your side. It was currently winter in Paris right now; the temperature only grew colder as the days went by which is why you were shocked to see Mark outside on the balcony in only his underwear, but the sight did make your cheeks pink.

No matter how many times you’ve seen him naked, you always got so shy and flustered. He was freezing cold when you finally found your way behind him, you placed your chin on his shoulder blade and left a soft kiss there while lazily wrapping your arms around his hips. The giggle that fell from your lips at the feeling of your bare chest against his back couldn’t be helped, he was so cold and the frost nipped at your skin.

It took you a few moments to notice the cigarette in his hand and when you did, you grew worried. Mark hated cigarettes. He hated the smell and hated the negative effect they had on people’s bodies. However, you noticed he began smoking them after working with a well-known rapper who claimed that smoking helped him relax. It was a habit you weren’t too fond of; you knew it was probably damaging his lungs and you could taste the ash in his kisses, but you knew something had to be bothering him for him to want to even start smoking so you never tried stopping him.

For the last month, you haven’t seen a pack of cigarettes lying around the place nor did the scent linger on his clothes so you knew there was a chance he stopped. Seeing that ugly death stick in between his fingers made your blood boil; you didn’t want anything happening to his health because of a stupid decision he‘d make whenever he was upset.

“Go back to bed baby. I’ll be there soon, I just needed a little break. I’m fine.” You’ve been with Mark long enough to know when he was lying. You didn’t have to see him; the lack of confidence in his voice and the way he tensed up against your body made it clear that something was indeed on his mind, and there was no way you’d be able to go back to sleep knowing he was overthinking.

“Talk to me Mark. Something is obviously bothering you and I want to be able to help you.” He released a long sigh before putting out the cigarette and turning to face you. His eyes were red and puffy and there were dried tears on his cheeks.

The idea of him crying made your heart hurt; he was always the strong one in your relationship. No matter how rough life would get for him, he never showed that he was having a hard time. He hated burdening other people, especially you. So all his battles, he’d keep to himself. You hated that he never confided in you the way you always seemed to with him. You wanted to be able to help him carry the burden or to help fight the war in his mind that he was battling alone.

“Why did you do it?” You immediately looked at him in confusion. What was he talking about? What did you do that could be causing him so much distress and frustration?

“Mark—“

“You gave up everything to be with me. You’re completely cut off from your parents, you gave up your job at the law firm, you had to sell your car, you left all your friends without any explanation as to why you were leaving—just for me. I can’t give you everything that I want to just yet. I can’t promise to give you a big house, a nice car—we’ve been together for years and I have every intention on marrying you y/n but I can’t afford to buy you the ring of your dreams—I’m honestly nothing. I’m a college dropout trying to become a renowned songwriter y/n. Sure, I’ve been getting quite a few amazing opportunities but it isn’t enough for us to be set for the rest of our lives nor can we really be comfortable. Like your mom said, there are many men out there who’d be able to take care of you in the ways that I can’t. All I can do is love you y/n, and fuck. I love you more than you can even fathom yourself. But you deserve so much more and sometimes love isn’t enough—“

“Do you hear yourself right now? Are you really asking me why I left my life behind to be with you? My family, I love them dearly. But you know how I feel about my parents, how they sheltered me, overprotected me, forced me in to doing things I didn’t want to. They never did care about how I felt; not once did they stop and think maybe they were working me to the bone. I was never happy Mark. Until you came in to my life and I really don’t know what I would do if I were to lose you. I’m assuming you must’ve heard what my mom said and don’t you dare listen or even think what she said was true. You are not nothing Mark. You are so talented, so hardworking, so passionate and dedicated and if anyone deserves the world baby—it’s you. I meant what I said when I told her I couldn’t give less of a shit about any materialistic things. What’s a fucking Porsche going to do for me if my husband neglects me? What’s a big house if the person that I love isn’t there to share it with me?” You brought your hand up to cup his cheek and released a sigh of relief when he leaned in to your palm.

“You and I could live in a fucking box and I wouldn’t care and you wanna know why? Because you’re there. All I need is you. I don’t care where we go, who we meet, how much money we have in our bank accounts; as long as I have you right beside me, I’m not worried about anything. I can get another car Mark, I can find another job, I can make new friends—but there is never going to be another you. So stop beating yourself up about the decisions I made in the last few months. I did it for us. I did it because I love you. I will never love anyone the way I love you. Now get it out of your head that I deserve someone better than you because a man like that doesn’t exist. And yes—your love is enough Mark. It’s all that matters to me. The way you take care of me when I’m sick, or hold me close as we watch a scary movie. The way you take a bite out of my food to make sure it isn’t too hot, although I feel like you use that as an excuse just to try my food. The way you can be so tired, yet you want to sit down and listen to me go on about my day. You love me Mark. You never fail to say it, but it means more to me because you never fail to show it either.” At this point, his tears were flowing steadily from the bird of his eyelids and you found yourself wiping them away every time new tears fell.

“A person’s job title, the amount of education they’ve received, the kind of car they drive and the house they live in; none of that matters babe. I know you probably hear this all the time, but it’s what the inside that matters. Genuinely. All the wealth, the riches, it doesn’t make you better than anyone else. Your personality, your selflessness, your golden heart, your generosity, your patience, the love you never fail to show others, that’s why I fell in love with you. Oh—and your stupidly handsome looks but that’s besides the point. I’d go wherever it is that you’ll go. Whatever you need me to do, or be in order to help you grow as an artist or just a human being in general, I’ll do it. I’ll do anything for you Mark Tuan. And one day, when everything works out with your career, we can rub it in my parents faces. No more tears my love. It’s just you and I; and that’s what makes me the most happy. Oh—and I don’t need a big wedding or a huge diamond ring to get me to marry you. You could get me a ring pop for all I care. I just want to be with you. We could honestly elope in one of the hotel’s chapels if that’s what you want.”

He didn’t miss a beat before bringing his hands on either side of your face and roughly connecting your lips together. His mouth was warm and wet against yours, his kisses were rough and needy. It’s as if he was putting everything he wanted to say to you in to the kiss. How grateful he was for you. How much you meant to him. How much he loved you more than his heart could genuinely handle. Mark knew he needed to continue fighting for his dream in order to prove to you that you made the right decision in choosing him. Soon, the atmosphere was filled of sexual tension and it didn’t take too long for you to feel something hard against your thigh.

“I just—I hope—fuck. Thank you baby. I could never thank you enough for everything that you’ve done and continue to do for me. You’re the most ethereal being to walk on this earth you know that. I really, really do not deserve you but I will spend the rest of my life proving to you that I’m sure happy you chose me. Don’t tempt me, I might just go down to the gift shop and get you that ring pop. I love you—so fucking much my beautiful girl. God , only you could make me hard as a rock while I’m in the middle of crying—I know it’s 3 A.M, and I promised I would take you to the Champs-Élysées later on today, but I really want to show you just how grateful I am for you. I also kinda want to solve this problem in my pants and fuck the shit out of you so let’s go baby. You might have to rent a motor chair to get around once I’m done with you.”

#got7 imagines #got7 #got7 mark #mark tuan #mark tuan got7

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