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httpsserene · 6 months

Note

hey can I request something that’s angsty to fluff and then smut for Oscar where reader gets a ton of hate for dating Oscar so she kind of ghosts him for a bit and they figure things out

𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐢 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐰/𝐨𝐩𝟖𝟏

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: oscar really just wants to hear you laugh again. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. angst. fluff. happy ending. reader is exhausted physically and mentally. reader's internal monologue is not not nice. bad eating habits. bad sleeping habit. self-deprecation. don't worry she's back on her bs at the end. reader neglects herself (?) and her relationship. implied self-sabotage. people are mean. don't worry oscar is meaner. oscar piastri is a good boyfriend. emotional hurt/comfort. tenderness. intimacy. baths and pampering. crying (non-sexy). implied sex. implied bath sex. logan and lando as plot devices. no beta we die like my will to live during finals. 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 5.1k words. 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: oscar piastri x fem!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: oneshot w/ blurbs. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: best i ever had • drake

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: sorry it took me so long, i've changed this fic like multiple times :/ hope it fulfills you request properly :))) this is not my favorite thing in the world, i feel like if i went on a smaller scale i would've enjoyed this more but what can you do. this is also not very black reader coded? idk but feel like it's lacking there. i also apologize for my inability to write an oscar fic without including lando, he's such a willing plot device though even if he's a little ooc. i also couldn't find the mental space to write smut but there's smth for you at the end. dedicated to us women in stem! i hope you have fun reading this because i didn't have fun writing it :)

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oscar is worried. you haven’t responded to his texts for a week, he hasn’t seen your face for two weeks, and he hasn’t heard your voice for three weeks. four weeks ago, you told him you wouldn’t be able to fly out to see him at the austin grand prix, like you promised. you sounded exhausted and incredibly guilty when you explained that your course load this semester is extreme, and finals are rapidly approaching. oscar understood; he won’t ask you to sacrifice your education for one of his races, there will be plenty you can come to in the future. what he doesn’t understand is how you’re still functioning. it’s your senior year of university at an american ivy league school, you're pursuing an engineering degree, and you’re also working nearly five days a week as a barista. oscar thinks the last time he’s seen you relaxed is before your fall semester started, you spent your entire summer break with him, making appearances at the only three races you’ve been to this season (silverstone, hungary, and spa). the last time he recalls seeing your smile and hearing your laugh is in august—it’s the end of october now.

you’ve been ghosting him. oscar wants to believe that it’s unintentional, that it’s just a side effect of the amount of work and pressure on your shoulders—but he can’t accept that. if you were unintentionally missing his calls, facetimes, and texts, you’d spam respond to all of them with a voice message or paragraphs of texts before you went to bed or class. you would send him daily or weekly recap videos of how life is treating you, like you used to do. you would send him stupid videos of you messing around on your shifts during a pause of customers. you would send him thirty reels a day on instagram of brain dead shenanigans with little captions of how you reacted, or if you thought it would make him smile. you would send him fit checks every morning before you went to class, even though your outfit consists of a hoodie and sweatpants. you would send him tiktok edits of himself and tell him that he needs to stop being ‘so hot’ because you almost barked in the middle of class. you would ask him how he’s doing, you would respond to his texts the minute you could even if it's hours late, you would leave him voicemails if he doesn’t pick up, you would make an attempt to communicate.

except, you haven’t. so, he knows that you ignoring him is intentional, and that your lifestyle right now makes it easier for you to disguise your avoidance of him as accidental.

you didn’t say ‘i love you’ back.

“mate, what are you frowning for?” oscar jumps, eyes flying up from the phone screen and meeting lando’s. the brit is staring at him in confusion, the two of them are still in their race suits, tied around their waists. the sprint race ended an hour ago, and they’ve just finished celebrating oscar’s win.

“you’ve won a race, oscar—what could possibly make you sad after that?” lando says teasingly. but, the smile on his face is quick to fade as he must see oscar’s dejected mood.

the australian debates his next move for a moment, before deciding that telling lando isn’t a bad idea; they’ve been getting closer—they’re friends, oscar would say. he sighs, and hands his phone to lando, maybe he’ll tell oscar he’s worrying over nothing.

“oh,” lando says, eyes widening, “i’m sorry, mate.”

oscar brushes off lando’s words, and buries his face in his hands, “she’s pulling away from me. that was five days ago, and she hasn’t answered any of my calls. she’s only responded to my texts since then with one word answers or very dryly. she’s ghosting me.”

oscar feels lando fumbling for words, not needing to look at him to know that the older man has no idea how to go about reassuring oscar.

“look, mate, if it were me i’d go see her anyways.”

oscar huffs, “she literally said she doesn’t have time.”

“oscar,” lando stares at him in disbelief, “she hasn’t seen you in two months. i guarantee she’s probably dying to see you again, fuck whatever time she doesn’t have. she also can’t ghost you, if you see her face to face. you should go and try to fix whatever’s wrong, before you let her slip away.”

“maybe…maybe she’s just burnt out,” oscar suggests shakily, “i’ll go see her after the triple header–i’m probably just overreacting about this. she’ll be back to her usual self in time.”

oscar is enraged. he’s pissed off at his fans for attacking you in a sick twist of ‘defending him,’ ‘protecting him’ and the supposed ‘ownership’ they think they have over him. he’s pissed off at you deciding to ghost him instead of confiding in him about the hate you receive. he’s pissed off that his flight to you has been delayed for four hours. he’s pissed off at his race in brazil, if you can even call what happened a race. he’s pissed off at the fact that you can’t make time to see him before vegas. he’s pissed off that you lied to him about picking up extra shifts at the cafe.

he stalked through your instagram the minute after he was allowed to escape debrief, hunting down your roomates accounts from where you’ve tagged them in an older post. he innocently made a group message to the two girls, figuring it would be kind and proper to inform them of his impending arrival to surprise you. and the two girls you shared an apartment with responded eagerly to his message telling him that you’ve been extremely stressed and almost depressed this semester, and that hopefully his appearance will break through to you in a way they are unable to. oscar asked them if they knew your work schedule for the week, since you never told him when you're working–and learned that you lied. you didn’t accept any extra shifts, matter of fact, you got all of your shifts covered for the next two weeks. apparently, all you have been doing is going to class, working, studying furiously, and crying. when he asks if there’s any reason besides the stress from work and school that has you crying, the girls decline to speak for you, and strongly suggest that he asks you himself when he arrives.

oscar’s no longer pissed at you for lying to him or for ghosting him–he’s hurt, but, he already understands your motive. you don’t want to worry him, so you bottle it up and distance yourself to not make him aware of how you're struggling. he won’t let you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders alone anymore, he’s going to see you and he’s going to take care of you, and then he’ll sort out the ignorant people on the internet.

when he’s at your apartment, you’ll be coming home from your last shift before your time off. and then, once he has you in his arms, he can make everything right again.

your hands are shaking; a result from the mix of stress and exhaustion that has been plaguing you for a few weeks. it takes you four and a half attempts to unlock the front door to your apartment—this is an improvement, yesterday it took you six times. a trembling sigh of relief exits your lungs as you shut the front door, triple checking that you lock the door properly. you remove all of your outerwear and slip out of your shoes, half-heartedly making an attempt to neatly place them in the organizer you have by the door. (you fail to register how there’s only two pairs of shoes stored away; yours and a pair of shoes that look too big to be one of the girls you live with—the usual sneakers the girls wear are nowhere to be seen.) you grunt as you tenderly put on your backpack and slowly make your way into the kitchen, off-handedly murmuring a “hi,” in the direction of the living room since you can hear the tv playing, but you don’t even spare a glance to see which roommate it is—you can’t stomach anymore human interaction today.

your walk is more of a waddle; your legs and feet are sore from working nine-hour shifts five days in a row, and also from going to class four out of those five days. you place your backpack on the small island, and continue to gently meander towards the fridge. your stomach aches at the thought of food—which is unfortunate, considering you’ve only had one meal today. regardless, you will shove a sandwich down your throat, you need the energy if you’re going to study for three hours before you go to bed.

you pause before you open the fridge, a note is stuck on the door with a magnet. your roommates are gone; the two girls have spontaneously decided to go spend the weekend with their boyfriends—you’re not going to complain, you have the apartment to yourself. a brief wave of loneliness washes over you, you were kind of looking forward to venting about the week you had to the girls in the morning, and also, couldn’t they have texted you this earlier today? who leaves old-fashioned notes on the fridge anymore? you pull out your phone to send a text in your group chat wishing them a nice weekend, and see that they did, in fact, text you that they would be gone—three days ago. and, you never responded, because you never saw it. you shrug, and send the text anyways, you’ve been incredibly busy and you’re bound to miss a few texts (especially the eighteen texts from oscar that remain unopened).

you're just going through a little bit of a slump, and you’ve had a bad day. you accidentally messed up three orders today (out of the hundred you fulfilled, so three isn’t really terrible), your running off of four hours of sleep (you’re more energized when you sleep less, anyways), and a customer accidentally bumped into you as you were walking to bring coffee to a table, causing the hot liquid to spill and burn a little spot on the back of your hand by your thumb. well, you know it wasn’t purely accidental, as the girl giggled to the group of friends she was with after she “bumped” into you. based on the way she was wearing a mclaren hoodie, you can make several guesses as to why she did it—you’re kind of shocked that she noticed you even though you wear a mask at work (you have for about a month, too many fans have noticed who you are), her hate for a relationship that’s not hers should be studied for science.

incidents like these have made your coworkers start to…dislike you. the decrease in tips when you’re assigned to the register causes you to be forced to be hidden behind coffee machines the entire shift, only making drinks the entire nine hours you’re there. it’s better for you though, at least you can have a physical barrier blocking the prying eyes you feel are judging you the entire time. if anything, the recent atmosphere at work made you want to put in your two weeks—but, you have bills to pay. you’re just glad you managed to find a way to get two weeks off so you can focus on school and prepare for your exams—you can’t afford to fail, it’ll cost your scholarship and then you’ll need more than the job you have right now to finish school.

the buzzing of your phone pulls you back to the present—oscar’s calling. you squeeze your eyes shut for a few seconds, before you blink and silence the ringer. if you speak to him, you won’t be able to hide your troubles from him any longer; he reads you as easily as a kid’s picture book. he definitely doesn’t need to deal with your problems after whatever the hell happened in brazil. the noise of your phone startled you into a new thought, however. if the girls aren’t in the apartment, why the fuck is the tv on? who did you greet when you walked past the main room without a glance?

“i was calling to tell you that i’ve got takeout from the asian restaurant you like, if you’re looking for something to eat,” oscar says gently.

it’s a testament to how extremely exhausted you are: you don’t scream, you don’t fight, you don’t run—you just flinch slightly, and turn around slowly to face your boyfriend…the man you’ve been avoiding for nearly a month. at the sight of him (his fluffy hair, his soft sweater, the confused and concerned glint in his eyes) your lip starts quivering, and your eyes start watering. oscar’s gaze softens into something sweet yet empathic, and he says, “i know it’s been a while since we’ve last talked, but i didn’t think you’d cry at the sight of me.”

you burst into tears with a sob, and in a second oscar’s got you wrapped up in his arms, one hand soothingly massaging your back, while the other cradles your head on his shoulder. your borderline hyperventilating, your tears have started to soak his sweater, and you’re sniffling every two seconds to avoid getting snot on him too. oscar doesn’t try to quiet your tears, he doesn’t ask about what’s making you cry, he doesn’t even try to tell you that everything will be fine—he just holds you as you cry it out and presses kisses into your hair. eventually, the flow of tears dries and you focus on pulling in shaky breaths of air to calm down. oscar switches to holding you to his chest with one arm while he uses the free one to reach across the counter and grab a tissue. wordlessly, he wipes the wetness off your cheeks and under-eyes, he even uses another tissue to wipe your nose, clearing away the snot that managed to escape. you almost start crying again at the tender treatment and the matching look in his eyes, but you muster enough strength to keep the happy tears from falling over the waterline.

oscar nods once, deeming his cleanup complete, and clears his throat, “i’m going to heat up the food. then, we’ll eat and you’ll tell me what’s wrong and if that has anything to do with why you’re ignoring me.”

there’s no attempt from you to keep the façade up any longer, all you do is nod and step to the side so he can grab the food from the fridge.

oscar has already cleared his plate and you’re still picking through half of yours. the two of you are sitting on opposite ends of the couch, teen wolf is playing on a low volume, and your eyes are tunneled on the screen even though oscar can see that you’re not paying attention at all. one of the characters is screaming about having to get his arm cut off (stiles, probably) and suddenly you start talking to oscar.

“it’s been a shit semester. if i wasn’t graduating in spring, i honestly think i would’ve dropped out or taken a gap-year. and, i knew what i signed up for as an engineering major, and i knew that working was only going to add more on my plate—but, it’s not like i can quit my job, i have bills to pay. so, juggling school and work is difficult, and i was managing fine. but, i guess i made the mistake of scrolling through twitter—which is truly my fault i think—and everyone on the internet was calling me a ‘terrible girlfriend’,” oscar watches you scoff out a choked laugh, “and, i obviously didn’t believe i was. in the beginning, at least. i mean, it’s like they expected me to be at every race by your side, like i’m not working my way through a hellscape of a degree. i watched every practice session, qualifying, and race—they’re literally the only hours i don’t spend studying or working. i brag about you to everybody who would listen, i missed hours of sleep just to speak to you on the phone for five minutes, i work as hard as i can so i can finish this degree early so i can be with you as early as possible, and they say that you deserve a better girlfriend.”

you pause and rub at your eyes furiously, mouth opening and closing as you take time to find the words to continue. oscar quiets the flare of anger at your distress, and stays silent, not wanting to interrupt your speech, this is the most you’ve said to him in a month.

“the thing is: i-i i let their words get to me. i think it’s because i was being kicked while i was down—or whatever the phrase is. i was already mentally exhausted, and i already believe that i’m not doing my best this year, i’m disappointing everybody who knows me, i’m a shit student—and just seeing everybody agree, even though they’re just randoms on the internet, tore me down. i even deleted all of the apps off my phone,” your voice has shifted into something desperate, “so i couldn’t see what they were saying about me anymore, but it’s like once i saw it, it never left my mind. i feel like everybody is staring at me with condescending eyes, like they all think i’m terrible. and, logically, i know that’s probably not true. but, this semester has pushed me past the point of being able to rationalize properly. so as a result, i have become a ‘terrible girlfriend’ to you; like a twisted self-fulfilling prophecy.

“i avoid your calls, i leave you on delivered for days, i respond with one word, i lie to my friends and say i was up all night talking to you on the phone when i was really crying and studying at the same time, i hold back from bursting into tears in the middle of my shifts when one of your ‘fangirls’ spills their drink over me for the third time. and while doing all of this, i was hoping you’d do the hard part and just break up with me,” your voice rings out sharply and you refuse to look at your boyfriend, afraid to see the look on his face.

“because…” you whimper slightly, tongue flicking out to lick at your lips anxiously, “you do deserve a better girlfriend.”

oscar is lost for words at your conclusion; seeing you, one of the strongest women he knows break down, is a sight he never imagined. a sense of guilt builds within him, knowing that he’s added to the deprecating thoughts in your brain by postponing this intervention for weeks. you may think that he deserves someone better, but he hasn’t been the best to you either recently. if oscar was half the man you think he is, he would’ve never allowed you to avoid him in the first place. oscar stands up, collects your plate and his, and places them on the coffee table. he turns and drops to his knees in front of you, resting his hands on your thighs, and squeezes them gently to grab your attention. it takes a minute, but eventually you allow your eyes to fall to meet his, and oscar breaks further at the lack of light in your eyes.

“i think,” oscar starts quietly, “that you expect me to break up with you and leave—am i guessing correctly?”

you blink down at him and shrug, biting your lip to prevent it from quivering.

“i also think, that if i flew all this way to see you, and that if i listened to your heartbreaking recollection of how this semester and how the world has been incredibly unkind to you, and that if i sat here and still broke up you—it’s not me that deserves a better girlfriend; it’s you that deserves a better boyfriend.”

stunned, you stumble over your disagreement, but oscar steadfastly continues.

“you did the right thing by deleting your socials—and that would explain why all three hundred of the reels i’ve sent you have gone unseen,” he laughs lightly, “and even if their words took root, you prevented yourself from being able to see more of it every time you used your phone; so even if my pride is not needed, i am proud of you for doing that. i’m even more proud that you sat here and told me that you aren’t doing well, that you didn’t make an attempt to lie, and that i didn’t have to force you to tell me,” oscar says seriously, holding steady eye contact with you to make sure you're hearing him.

“i wish that you would have mentioned the hate you’re receiving as soon as it started, and that you would have told me your mental health was suffering too. you know i do everything in my power to avoid reading anything with my name in it unless it’s a credible article—so imagine my surprise, when i learned about what people were saying about you through a twitter thread logan, of all people texted me about,” you snort out a laugh at the feigned disdain in oscar’s voice when he mentions the american driver.

“you know i have no issues embarrassing people on the internet for their incorrect claims—and i’d especially tear them to shreds for trying to drag you down. we’ve been together too long for you not to come to me about things like this, even if it’s something that mildly upsets you—i want to know, because then i can make it better, or i can at least try to. you haven’t complained to me about the grueling lifestyle once, as i worked my way up to f1; if anybody could be perfect, it would be you. so, let me try to be as perfect as you, and support you properly and thoroughly as you finish up this degree, baby.

“we’re soulmates, aren’t we?” it’s a question, but oscar states it like a fact, “and i know i can’t magically make the self-loathing disappear with one conversation, but i'll tell you that you’re the best girlfriend i’ve ever had countless times, until you believe me unquestionably.”

oscar watches your nose scrunch cutely as you sniffle, unable to stop the tears that leak from the corners of your eyes. sweetly, he catches them with his thumb before they fall. he stands up and tugs you to your feet, pulling you into a tight, warm hug.

“i love you, kanga,” oscar coos as he kisses your forehead.

“i love you the most, roo,” you answer back, leaning up to press a kiss to the corner of his lips.

“i’ve bought some lavender epsom salt and an embarrassing amount of bath bombs. will you let me take care of you tonight?” oscar asks quietly.

he sees the mix of awed-disbelief and confusion as you stare up at him, like you can’t imagine why he’d want to love you tenderly tonight, and that hurts him more—the words of his ‘fans’ online have done enough damage to cause you to doubt him. maybe he can convince you to come to vegas with him so he can keep you close, but first, he needs to focus on caring for you here and now.

oscar grabs his duffle bag and smiles as you hold his hand to lead him to your room and the attached bathroom (rent is ridiculously expensive, but at least you don’t have to share a bathroom with your roommates.) oscar sends you to grab pajamas while he starts filling the tub, epsom salt already poured in. he fiddles with the temperature for a while before it’s set to the boiling-your-skin-off hot you enjoy. by the time you join him in the bathroom, he’s added the salts and soap in the water and has placed the bath bombs out for you to choose one. oscar can’t help the small smile that rises to his face at the sight of the serious furrow of your brow as you pick out your favorite from the bunch.

oscar hums as you hand him the jade-infused bath bomb, and asks, “can i wash your hair too? or will it mess up your schedule?”

“i actually really need to wash it,” you murmur with a humorless chuckle, “i’ve been so busy that i haven’t been taking care of my hair properly.”

oscar blinks and continues non-judgmentally, “i’ll give you an extra scalp massage to make up for that—you can start getting undressed now, the water’s nearly ready.”

he turns around awkwardly, he’s seen you naked before but he feels like it would be slightly perverse to watch you while you’re clearly in a more sensitive state tonight. he fumbles with the faucet for a few seconds before turning it off, and drops the bath bomb into the water so it can start dispersing. oscar faces you again carefully making sure he avoids staring at your body and locks eyes with you, he beckons you forward with an outstretched hand and holds your hand as you submerge yourself in the water. once you’re settled comfortably, oscar grabs your hair products (he holds up any bottle he thinks you may not want to use tonight, and you give him a thumbs up or down to decide), and then kneels at your side.

he starts to roll up the sleeves of the hoodie but your hand halts his motions, the water splashing loudly at the quickness of your movement, “you’re not getting in with me?”

“uh,” oscar stutters, “i-i wasn’t planning on it. i just wanted to give you a nice bath.”

oscar pinkens as you stare at him wordlessly and when your unimpressed gaze shifts to a slight glare, he finds himself shedding his clothes and sinking in behind you at an impressive speed.

his heart began to race as the two of you shifted into as comfortable of a position you could achieve in a too-small tub, but calmed at your pleased hum as you settled between his legs with your back resting on his chest. this may be the most romantic experience oscar has ever indulged in. sure, it’s not a candlelit dinner at an obnoxiously expensive restaurant but, it’s him detangling your hair, it’s him massaging shampoo into your crown, it’s him scratching softly along your scalp as the deep conditioner sits, it’s you playing with the water innocently, it’s you whispering every detail of your life that he’s missed out on, it’s you gently directing him through braiding your hair, and it’s him pressing kisses to your shoulder when he finishes. there isn’t a single moment where the two of you become unsettled during lapses of silence; the intimacy of his actions is loud enough to fill the gaps. oscar can’t imagine ever being this comfortable with anybody besides you, he hates that he almost allowed you to pull completely away from him. moments like these, where you allow yourself to be thoughtlessly vulnerable with him, are exactly why he’s completely enamored with you.

your body has loosened against him, muscles syrupy and lax from the effects of a toe-curling scalp massage, and oscar gently guides you to sit upright while steadying most of your weight with a single hand splayed against your abdomen. the sound of the cap of your body wash clicking open startles you into the present, and you shift around to straddle his lap. it’s amusing; he inaudibly chuckles at the sight of you struggling to complete your change of position without sending water over the edge. you make a triumphant noise when you’ve managed to turn around to face him, and oscar’s hands cradle your hips when you rest on his lap.

“can i–”

“shouldn’t you–”

oscar bursts into laughter and you into giggles, at the interruption of each other's sentences. it’s definitely not that funny, but oscar’s heart skips a beat at the sound of your laugh–he hasn’t heard that sweet noise in what feels like forever. he motions for you to speak, ever the gentleman, and eagerly awaits for our question with a smile still stretched across his lips.

“shouldn’t you fuck me before we wash up? so we don’t have to clean up twice?”

oscar chokes on his breath, his grip on you tightening in surprise, and he babbles, “what? no-i mean, yes, i mean—wait. i didn’t do all of this just to have sex with you, you know that right? i genuinely just wanted to pamper you–”

“oscar,” you cut him off, intentionally this time around, “after the semester i’ve had, and the less than kind words i’ve heard and thoughts i’ve had describing myself–i really do appreciate the bath, i feel reminded that you love me. however, i really think that having sex would help…solidify your devotion for me.”

oscar blinks up at you, he wasn’t quite expecting you to return to your normal sassy behavior as quickly as you did. but, he is thankful that you’ve opened up to him with no further hesitation–it’s actually incredibly attractive of you, how you’ve resumed complete comfortability in expressing exactly what you want to him. at least, that’s the excuse he’s telling himself to cope with being half-hard already.

“...at least let me take you to bed, then?”

“no,” you whine down at him, your hips sneakily twitching forward, oscar moans lightly at the light grind, “too far! saves time later if we don’t have to come back to shower.”

“you’re right,” oscar hums distractedly, moving his right hand off your waist to slip between your thighs and brush along your cunt, “i’ll fuck you here as long as you let me do all of the work.”

oscar’s blood heats at the sound of your whimpering moan and he takes his other hand off your waist to grab at your chin and he pulls you down for a kiss.

oscar groans when you pause before your lips touch his, and he feels the breath of your giggle ghost over his mouth, “mmm, i’ll never say no to that—and, didn’t i agree to let you take care of me tonight?”

taglist: @saintslewis @cherry2stems @lorarri @inloveallthetime @mindless-rock @biancathecool @barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz

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cleo-fox · 4 months

Text

Daylight

Summary: Despite your best efforts, Sunday morning doesn’t go as planned…and you couldn’t be happier about it.

Pairings: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, shower sex, fingering, vaginal sex, soft sex, sex that causes you to be several hours late for work, Loki being a (respectful) horn dog.

Series: Overtime (I don't have a masterlist for this yet, but the first fic is here). A/N: This started out as a scene in Overtime that kind of took on a life of its own. You don't necessarily need to read Overtime in order to enjoy or understand this fic, but you'll have more context if you do. Anyway, it was fun revisiting these two idiots--I've got a few more ideas for them up my sleeve, so there will be more in this series at some point.

The sunlight wakes you the next morning.

It’s the same sunlight as always, but it looks different coming through Loki’s window and streaming across his bed. It looks better, you think, splashed across his sheets.

Or maybe it’s the addition of your hand clasped with his resting on those same sheets. Or perhaps it’s the sight of your clothes and his, discarded on the bedroom floor in a pool of sunlight, combined with the fact that you’re still wrapped in his arms. Maybe all of that is why it seems better.

That seems more likely.

You lie still for a moment, simply enjoying the feeling of his arms and the heat of his skin against your bare back. You are reasonably certain he’s asleep from the steady rhythm of his breath on your neck, but you’re not about to disturb the sleepy calm of the morning to confirm that.

The clock on his bedside table says it’s just after six. Before last night, you would have said that this was a reasonable time to get up—early enough to ensure that you’re in the office by eight, which would hopefully give you enough time to meet this evening’s deadline, but not so early that it makes you question your life and your choices.

But that was before. Now…well. You suddenly find that your priorities look very different from the comfort of Loki’s bed.

You decide that you didn’t really see the clock. Neither one of you thought to set an alarm last night. Sleeping in was inevitable. That’s not your fault. No harm, no foul.

You close your eyes and allow yourself to fall into a light doze, warmed by the sunlight and Loki’s embrace.

Sometime later, you’re woken by the soft brush of a kiss against your neck.

“Did you sleep well?” he murmurs against your neck.

“Yes, though I did have a bit of a late night,” you say. “Someone kept me up.”

“Really? That was rude of him.”

“Very.”

He’s noticeably—achingly—hard. His lips brush against your neck again. “Perhaps he might make it up to you?”

Your intention is to open your eyes, roll over, and allow yourself to be ravished. But in a development you can only describe as tragic, you happen to catch sight of the clock on his nightstand.

7:38 am.

“Shit,” you say. “It’s almost eight.”

Loki is predictably unconcerned about this. “We don’t have any official hours to keep,” he says, his hand skimming along your ribs and down the curve of your waist. “We have all day.”

“Yeah, but we’ve got a ton more to do,” you say, trying to ignore how good he is at kissing your neck or how his hand is drifting down your hip toward the aching pulse between your legs. “We really need every minute.”

“That is true,” he says solemnly. “Perhaps we ought shower together to save time.”

You can’t help but smile. “I kind of feel like you have another agenda.”

“I’d never,” he says.

“The raging hard on pressing against my ass would suggest otherwise.”

You can almost hear him smirk as he gives his hips a teasing little thrust against you. “I contain multitudes.”

You wiggle out of his embrace and slip out of bed. You intend to look back and give him a coquettish look and say something sharp and teasing, but instead, the sight of him takes your breath away. He leans back on his elbows, looking everything like the sort of lounging god you would see depicted in marble at the Parthenon, all chiseled, sharp muscles and clean lines. His cock stands fully erect and deliciously thick, flushed with wanting.

“I can’t help but notice that you didn’t reject the offer,” he says, seemingly fully aware of the path of your gaze. His hand drops to his cock and he strokes himself casually, which very nearly sends your sprinting back to bed.

“You’re right,” you say, trying to keep your cool as you throw him your most beguiling look. “So you should probably hurry up.”

You turn and start walking toward the master bathroom. You don’t need to look over your shoulder to know he’s following you, his gaze hungrily devouring every inch of skin, eyes dark with purpose.

You walk into the master bathroom and are immediately confronted by several flagrant violations of the residential handbook. The TVA is many things, but it is not the sort of place that deviates from set floor plans, nor is it the sort of place that deviates from those plans to install a rainfall shower and soaking tub—in marble, no less.

You think of the stark, vaguely institutional aesthetic in your own master bath and you can’t decide if you’re annoyed at his rule breaking or jealous that he could get away with it.

“I’m not even going to ask if you got approval for this setup because I know you didn’t,” you say as you reach in to the shower to turn on the tap.

“Do you think of anything other than that cursed personnel manual?” he asks as he comes up behind you, his arms snaking around your waist and his lips again finding your neck as he draws you to him.

“First of all, it’s not the personnel manual, it’s the residential handbook, which you specifically agreed to abide by when you signed off on your lease.”

He turns you around so you face him and draws you close, a wicked gleam in his eye, “Oh, I’m going to make you forget all about those ridiculous rules.”

“That’s a pretty tall order—oh.”

His hand is slipping between your legs, stroking your already slick folds.

“I think I’m quite capable of inspiring other passions,” he says, rolling his fingers in a broad circle over the hood of your clit

You loop your arms around his shoulders. You can already feel your knees starting to tremble, but you know he won’t let you fall.

“Bold claim,” you say, “I’m going to need more evidence.”

“Oh, you’re going to get a lot of evidence,” he says softly. He curls a finger inside of you, pressing his thumb against the hood of your clit. “You will have no doubts by the time I’m done presenting my argument. You will be weak-kneed with evidence.”

You shudder as he rocks his hand slowly. He’s touching you enough to stoke the flames of desire, making your hips rock helplessly toward his hand as you try to create that extra friction and pressure that you know will send you flying over the edge. But Loki is meticulous—perhaps even ruthless—about not giving in.

“Not yet,” he murmurs softly when your latest attempt is thwarted. “Slowly.”

Your pleas become louder and more frequent, but his answer remains the same: slowly. You whimper and beg, but he is resolute.

Steam has fogged up the mirrors and is curling around you when your orgasm finally begins to crest. You suddenly find yourself grateful for his pacing as the intensity builds to a level that makes your knees shake.

“That’s it,” he breathes as you tremble in his arms. “You can come for me now, lovely.”

Like magic, the coil inside you snaps at his command and you cry out as your cunt shudders around his slowly thrusting fingers. Your arms looped around his shoulders are the only thing keeping you standing.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss against your temple as you sag against him. “Beautiful.”

He gives you a moment to get your bearings before leading you into the shower. He sits down on the marble bench, spreading his thighs wide and pulling you into his lap so you straddle his hips. The spray of the water hits your back as he kisses you again, slow and hungry.

You love everything about this. The heat of the water on your back. The closeness. The way his thighs are spread wide. How his cock presses against your bare cunt. The noise he makes low in his throat when you start rubbing yourself against him.

“Need you,” he mumbles against your neck. His hands squeeze your hips and you reach between the two of you to line his cock up at your entrance.

It occurs to you that you could take the opportunity to tease him, to make him beg for you, but pretending that you have any control over your aching need for him is several degrees beyond impossible. So instead, you slowly ease yourself down onto his cock while he groans against your neck, dragging his lips down to the curve of your shoulder.

The feeling of him inside you is still so new that it feels just a little unreal. After all that wanting and yearning and thinking that he was too handsome, too divine, too out of reach to have, he’s suddenly yours and it’s absolutely dizzying.

You pause for a moment, eyes closed, savoring the feeling of unyielding fullness, of connection. Of him.

“All right?” he asks softly.

You open your eyes and his look of sweet concern makes your heart swell. “Yeah,” you say, a lazy, satisfied smile tugging at your lips. “I just—I needed a moment. You feel—” You pause for a moment, searching for the right words, sifting through the effusive and flowery and the things that are true but too early to say. “You just feel really good,” you say.

It sounds wildly inadequate, but he seems to understand, to hear all of the unsaid parts that you’re keeping close to your heart. He could turn away, say it’s too much too soon, that you haven’t even said what you are yet, much less committed to anything serious, but he doesn’t. Instead, he leans forward, drawing you into a slow kiss, his hands framing your face, tracing the curve of your cheek and jaw with the kind of reverence that makes you want to say everything you feel.

“You’re perfect.” He says it in between breaths, with such a disarming sincerity that you can’t bring yourself to try and deflect, to name a flaw or even make a joke.

Later, he will tell you that he was struggling with a similar battle, trying to reconcile how new this was with the depth of feeling that was already blossoming in his chest. He will tell you later that he couldn’t believe you were his, just as you couldn’t believe he was yours, that there was something about you that felt right in a way that made him feel like he knew even then.

But right now, he simply kisses you with a fervor that makes your toes curl and your hips start to move.

It’s only the second time that you’ve done this, but there’s a strange blend of both the new and the familiar. The shape and feel of his body pressed against yours is new, but the way that he moves, the way that he touches you is as though he’s loved you for centuries.

The rhythm you fall into is slow, despite the excuse that this shower was to save time. His hand slides down your stomach, his fingers finding your clit to add another layer of bliss to the feeling of his cock inside you. Despite your slow pace, your ascent rushes in fast and brilliant as a comet blazing through the night sky. Your back arches, almost as though you’re presenting yourself as an offering to him as you come undone in his arms. Loki watches you with a kind of breathless wonder, brow furrowing in pleasure, his lower lip caught between his teeth at the tight clench of your cunt around his cock.

Your legs are rubbery with pleasure, but you keep going because you need his release as much as your own. You need to feel him empty himself inside of you, to hear the low groan he makes as he unravels, to see the way his eyes flutter shut. You want crescent moon marks on your hips from where his hands gripped you too tightly in that final ascent, physical proof that you can make not just a god forget himself, but Loki specifically. Loki with all his masks and tricks and artful poise; Loki laid bare below you, free from all artifice and glibness, raw and real and just as he is. All the parts of him that make you think that down this path lies something wonderful (not that you’re ready to call it love. Yet).

But Loki is nothing if not predictably unpredictable and he seems determined to make you work before granting you that little glimpse at the heaven that is the god of mischief coming undone beneath you.

“Let me feel you come again,” he murmurs as soon as you catch your breath.

“Is once not enough?” you say, trying and failing to sound cool and calm, like you’re not completely wrecked for him.

“Hardly.” His eyes flash in a way that makes you shiver as he urges your hips into a faster rhythm. “I am not so easily satisfied when my need has been so great.”

You can feel the coil in your hips beginning to tighten again.

“I’ve burned for you for years, my love,” he says, his voice going a little shaky. “Would you deny water to a man dying of thirst?”

You shake your head, your words lost to the oncoming wave of your undoing.

“Then do not deny me your pleasure, I am desperate for you.” He’s panting, barely holding on to his composure. “Now come for me again, let me feel you.”

You are so far gone that it only takes a few more strokes to make you come undone and the first shudder of your climax takes Loki with you.

You savor his pleasure more than your own release, memorizing the sound he makes, the way his lips form a silent plea in the shape of your name until he slides a hand up your neck and pulls you down to kiss him.

His kiss is fierce and hungry at first, but it ebbs to something slower and sweeter as he empties himself into you. He sighs as you tangle your fingers in the wet tendrils of his hair.

It’s a long moment later when you finally break the kiss, resting your forehead against his.

“I don’t think we saved any time,” you say.

He doesn’t even open his eyes. “I cannot overemphasize how much I do not care about being late in these circumstances.”

You grin. “Not even a little?”

He kisses you sweetly on the mouth before opening his eyes, his lips curling into a slow and satisfied smile. “I would be late every day for the rest of my life for just a few seconds of that.”

His words spark something warm in your chest and you try to hide it with a wry look. “I’m not sure that you’re getting the better end of the deal.”

He kisses you softly. “You don’t know how good you feel.”

“You’re one to talk,” you murmur against his lips and he smiles as he deepens the kiss.

The warmth of his body pressed against yours and the feeling of him smiling as he kisses you is a kind of luxury you’ve never imagined. It takes you a while to untangle yourselves, but you can’t find it in yourself to move any faster.

The actual showering part of your shower is slow and unhurried and you find that Loki’s hands are equally gifted at these mundane tasks. His fingers have a knack for finding every stubborn knot in your neck and shoulders, which he explores leisurely under the pretext of washing your back. The press of his fingers unwinds the tension in your shoulders, loosening up muscles that have been too tense for too long.

“You are way too good at this,” you say.

“Just one of my many talents,” he says, dropping a kiss on your shoulder. “Though perhaps I ought to stop—I wouldn’t want to make you late.”

“I’m so relaxed I’m going to ignore that little bit of sass.”

He chuckles against your shoulder. “You’ll forgive me.”

“We’ll see.”

The sweet, almost chaste kisses he’s been pressing against your neck and shoulders are gradually growing slower, more insistent. When you feel the tip of his tongue draw a quick, teasing line on your neck, you know that you might be in trouble.

His hands slide to your waist, drawing you close enough that you can feel that he’s hard again.

“I’m sensing some ulterior motives,” you say.

“A bold accusation,” he mumbles against your neck, pressing himself more firmly against you.

“We can’t have sex again,” you laugh.

“Mmm, we could,” he says in between kisses. “There’s nothing stopping us from having sex again.”

“We are already running late—”

“I thought I was very clear about my feelings on timeliness in these circumstances.” He nips at your earlobe and you shiver. “And would you really deprive me of the utter bliss of coming undone inside you?”

“It’s more like rescheduling than depriving you of anything.”

“I’ve waited so long, darling.”

“We just had sex like…less than an hour ago,” you say through a laugh.

“Ah, but the days before that were so terribly long,” he says.

You turn to face him, thinking this will make things easier for you. This turns out to be a grave miscalculation because now you have to contend with the fire in his eyes and the twin flame that it summons low in your hips.

Fuck.

You are definitely going to have sex again.

His eyes glitter like he knows and he slowly walks you backwards until you’re pressed between him and the shower wall.

“You are absolutely incorrigible,” you say as he peppers your neck with slow, decadent kisses. “I can’t believe you talked me into this.”

“Funnily enough, I don’t think you’ll be complaining about my mouth in about thirty seconds.”

And with a wicked and hungry grin, he slowly sinks to his knees.

It’s 10:48am when you finally walk into the office.

Even though you are now several hours later than you intended and the stack of files is no less imposing, you feel nothing but a pleasant glow of happiness as you take your seat. Loki sits down in the chair next to you and this time, he sneaks his foot underneath your desk and hooks his ankle under yours.

He catches your eye and smiles. “I can be a little more obvious now.”

You put on your most exaggerated expression of mock seriousness. “Only a little. This is a workplace, after all.”

He adopts a similar expression and nods. “Of course. I imagine there will be paperwork as well.”

“There actually is a form we’ll need to file with HR,” you say.

Loki frowns. “Wait, you’re not being serious about that, are you?”

“Yep. We’ll need to file it by next Friday.”

He sighs and throws his hands up in the air. “Is there anything that this place hasn’t managed to weigh down with the burden of unnecessary bureaucracy?”

“I see we’re in a good mood this morning.” Mobius has arrived, cup of coffee in hand. He nods at Loki and looks at you. “How long has he been raging against the machine?”

“Not terribly long,” you say as Loki rolls his eyes.

“It’s not raging against anything,” he says. “I just fail to see the point of some of this organization’s operational practices.”

Mobius raises an eyebrow at you. “You told him he has to fill out a form, huh?”

“Got it in one,” you say as Loki scowls.

Mobius chuckles and takes a sip of coffee. “You should hear him during performance evaluation season. I get entire monologues. It’s like Hamlet meets HR.”

Loki’s scowl deepens and you have to bite the inside of your cheek in order not to laugh.

“It looks like you made good progress, though,” says Mobius, looking at your completed stacks of files. “I took a look at what you pulled earlier this morning and there’s some good stuff.”

“Oh, good,” you say, hoping he doesn’t think much of the fact that neither one of you was in the office earlier this morning. “What time do you think you’ll need the rest done?”

“Right, about that,” says Mobius. You steel yourself for bad news. “I took a look at what you pulled so far and I think I’ve got what I need.”

You blink at him. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah, you’re off the hook,” he says. “Go enjoy the rest of your weekend.”

You look at Loki, who looks just as pleasantly surprised as you feel.

“In fact, you can take the rest of the week off,” says Mobius. “Triple overtime, right? You earned the time.”

“This feels like a trick,” says Loki. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” says Mobius. “You did good work.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “However—”

“And there’s the catch,” says Loki.

“There’s no catch,” says Mobius. He gestures at you with his coffee cup. “I’m just going to need you both to turn in the relevant paperwork to HR by next Friday.”

Loki sighs, though you can tell he’s fighting a smile. “There’s absolutely no privacy here.”

Mobius raises his eyebrows. “You’re playing footsie under the desk. It’s not exactly rocket science.”

You look at Loki and shrug. “He’s got a point.”

“You’re taking his side?”

You roll your eyes and stand up. “Well, you can sulk about it if you’d like, but I’m going to go enjoy the rest of my weekend.” You share a sly, secret smile with Mobius. “I’ll see you next week, Mobius.”

It takes Loki approximately twenty seconds to catch up with you.

“And you say I’m incorrigible,” he says as he falls into step beside you.

You smile at him. “I think you’ll get over it.”

“I’ll consider it.” He catches your band, fingers twining with yours. “What are your plans for the rest of the week?”

“Hadn’t decided,” you say, biting back a smile. “Did you have any suggestions?”

“Well, I’d like to start by going back to bed.”

“To sleep?” you tease.

“Eventually.” He licks his lips. “And since our respective schedules have been cleared for the week, we’ll be able to take our time.”

The hunger in his eyes is still so new and intoxicating that you can’t help the shiver that works its way up your spine.

You give him a slow smile. “Lead the way.”

#loki smut #loki x reader smut #loki x reader #loki laufeyson smut #loki x female reader #loki x female reader smut #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #tva loki x reader #overtime series

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daemour · 14 days

Text

Pairing: poly! WooSan x gn! Reader

Word Count: 4587

Warnings: cursing, implied sexual activity, arguing

Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationship, T for teen

Summary: In a relationship with Wooyoung and San, you feel left out of their activities. One evening, it all blows up.

this is my baby :') (yes i keep saying that about my fics) but i spent a lot of time on this and i think its one of my best works lol,,,,i hope u enjoy! i do have a second, shorter, part with the aftermath if you'd be interested

thank you to @hobeemin for betaing <3

You’re sitting on the couch with two pairs of legs in your lap. To anyone else, it would look like a sweet scene. Your boyfriends cuddling while you watch them fondly. But you’ve never felt so alone before.

You knew you were the addition to the relationship—San and Wooyoung had been dating for a long while before they met you, and it took another few years for them to ask you to join their relationship. After crushing on the two of them for so long, you had leapt at the chance to.

At first, you were just happy to be there—to have them smile at you sweetly, hold your hand, and press you into the sheets so well. But as time passed, it felt like being there was all you had to be happy about.

Sometimes, you wonder if you had just misconstrued the whole thing. Maybe they just wanted a roommate they could fool around with. Or you’re just reading too much into it. It’s only been six months since you were invited into the relationship.

As you’re contemplating your relationship with the two, your boyfriends stand. You only notice because of the weight leaving your body. “Hey, babe, Sannie and I are going to the bedroom, okay?”

“Oh– is there anything I can do too?” The desperation in your voice is evident, and you hate that it is. San’s eyes soften but both he and Wooyoung chuckle. Not meanly, but not kindly.

“Not today. Enjoy the movie.”

They each drop a kiss on the top of your head, and just like that, you watch them slip right through your fingers again.

You do your best to sit there and not feel upset; you try, but the pinch in your heart doesn’t go away. They’ve never been so outwardly…dismissive of you, and you’ve had quite enough of it. After a long five minutes of unhappy thoughts swirling around your head, you stand. You’re not sitting around and letting yourself feel like the second (or third) fiddle.

You blink back the angry tears threatening to fall as you pull on your sweatshirt and search for your phone, only to remember you left it on the bedside table. You’re not about to barge in on and grab it so you settle with your keys. You won’t be out for too long anyway.

As you leave the apartment, you do your best to close the door behind you as quietly as possible. The crisp fall air clears your mind, and you can think properly about your relationship. You just cannot allow yourself to continue to hurt like this. They’re a package deal to you and will come hand-in-hand with you in your life. You may love them, and they may be fond of you, but in the end, you’re just a plus one.

The realisation hits you like a ton of bricks, and you clap a hand over your mouth to muffle the sob that escapes. It hurts you deeply, and you don’t want it to be true. You want to believe they need you just as much as you need them, although you know the thought is futile.

You shudder as you finally let your sobs calm down, and your heart returns to a normal pace. You can’t stay there much longer if you don’t want to lose yourself. As you head back to the apartment, you hurriedly wipe your eyes and clear your throat, unwilling for San and Wooyoung to see the state you’re in.

But that proves unnecessary—when you walk back in, San is sitting on the couch, a new movie is on the screen, and Wooyoung is prepping dinner. A quick glance at the clock tells you that you’ve been gone for about an hour and a half. Your blood boils as you realise they hardly noticed your disappearance, but you force it back to your gut. Blowing up now would be counter-productive.

Your phone is right where you left it, but as you try to escape, San calls out for you, “Oh, YN. Woo and I wanted to ask…” Your breath catches in your throat, hoping for something. “Do you want to join us next time?”

It takes all of your willpower not to laugh. “No, I don’t think I will.” Such a tone of mockery had never left your mouth directed at them before, and you snap your mouth shut before you say something else. San’s eyebrow rises high into his hairline.

You hear Wooyoung chuckle from the kitchen. “That’s fine. We have more fun without you anyway.”

And you know, deep down, he didn’t mean it maliciously. Wooyoung doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. He was just trying to be funny and lighten the mood from the tension he had heard in your voice. But he didn’t know he (and San) was the cause of the stress, and all he does is relight the anger in your gut.

“Oh, so I’ve realised,” you mutter, and this time, San’s other brow raises, and he interrupts.

“What do you mean by that?” He moves to cross his arms, and you scoff.

“I’m sure you know damn well what I mean, Choi San. I get it. You guys have been dating for…longer than you’ve known me. It’s understandable you guys sometimes just want to be together without me.” You pause to take a breath, and San looks just about constipated. “But…I genuinely cannot remember the last time the three of us went on a date or included me in anything other than just sex. And even that, once in a while. What is the point of me being here?”

“Why didn’t you just talk to us?” Wooyoung asks, having moved from the kitchen to stand in the doorway. His brows are furrowed, and he looks so confused that you almost want to forget your argument. But it’s gone too far already, and words won’t stop pouring out of your mouth.

“You would rethink your already comfortable relationship for me? Don’t be silly.” You cut off Wooyoung’s attempted argument. “Maybe you would’ve thought about it, but come on. I’m me. I’ve known you guys for four years; you’ve been dating for seven. I asked to join you guys all the damn time, but all I got was getting brushed off. Forgive me for not having the confidence to confront you two.”

You run your hand through your hair, blinking back your tears. “I can’t imagine this relationship without you guys, but to you two? I’m just an afterthought,” you state, shaking your head.

Before your soft heart gets the better of you and you fall to your knees and take it all back, you turn right back out the door, your phone clutched in your hands this time. Wooyoung and San make no move to go after you, and it hurts more than it should.

You’re not in the mood to walk and wallow, so you sit in the parking garage, ordering a taxi. As you wait for your ride, you hear footsteps thundering up to you, and you know what’s coming.

“Are you actually leaving?” San’s voice comes from behind you, a tightness to it you haven’t heard before.

You keep your eyes forward and nod. “Yes. I need some time to myself. I…I won’t leave forever, at least not for now. I don’t want to give us up, but I need time to rest my heart. And you guys need time to process, I’m sure.”

The taxi you called is pulling up now, and you stand. After hesitating, you turn around and wrap your arms around San’s waist. There’s no wait on his side; his warm and strong arms come around your shoulders to squeeze you gently. Your eyes are shut tightly, knowing that if you open them, you’ll want to go right back up to the apartment.

“Tell Wooyoung I said ‘sorry’,” you manage to choke out, and you can practically hear San’s melancholic smile.

“You have nothing to apologise for, but I will if it makes you feel better. The only reason he didn’t come down is because he didn’t want to overwhelm you.” San sighs, running a hand through his hair. “For whatever it’s worth, I’m sorry we’ve made you feel so alone. It was never our intention, but that doesn’t excuse the fact that it happened.”

You sometimes wish San wasn’t so sweet and lovely and perfect. And you sure wish Wooyoung didn’t feel as strongly as he did. If they cared less, it would’ve made your hurt and betrayal less sharp in your chest. But you don’t want them to be guilty, and you don’t want Wooyoung to cry.

“I…won’t be gone for long,” is all you have left to say to San before you cram yourself into the taxi, and will your tears to not fall until you get into the safety of your apartment that doesn’t even feel like home.

As soon as you reach your apartment, you collapse to your knees and cry. With every sob, your chest heaves and your throat aches. But you’re finally able to let out all your hurt, and after an hour or so, you feel as refreshed as you can be. You hope it will work out in the end for your sake and theirs.

—

You sink into the familiar comfort of your couch, a sigh escaping your lips as the silence of your apartment envelops you. It's been two weeks since the tearful confrontation with San and Wooyoung, two weeks since you've allowed yourself to feel the full weight of your emotions. The initial relief of expressing your pent-up frustrations has given way to a dull ache of longing and uncertainty.

Days turn into nights, and the silence stretches, punctuated only by the occasional text message from San and Wooyoung, their words a mix of apologies, reassurance, and pleas for you to come back. You read and reread their messages, your heart torn between the desire to run back into their arms and the fear of being hurt again.

Yeosang, your closest friend, becomes your lifeline during this time, his presence a comforting anchor amidst the storm of your emotions. He listens patiently as you pour out your doubts and fears, offering his unwavering support and gentle guidance. "They miss you, you know," he often reminds you softly, his eyes reflecting a deep understanding of your inner turmoil.

"I miss them too," you admit, your voice barely a whisper. "But what if it's not enough? What if we can't bridge the gap that's grown between us?"

Yeosang squeezes your hand reassuringly. "You won't know until you try. They're willing to work on things, YN. Don't let your fear rob you of a chance at happiness."

His words echo in your mind, a constant reminder that you can't stay hidden forever. You need to confront your fears, to have that difficult conversation, and to decide whether the love you share is strong enough to overcome the challenges you face.

As the days pass, you find yourself slowly emerging from the cocoon of your self-imposed isolation. You start venturing out, meeting friends for coffee, taking walks in the park, trying to rediscover a sense of normalcy amidst the chaos of your emotions.

But the longing for San and Wooyoung never truly fades. It lingers in the quiet moments, in the empty spaces beside you on the couch, in the memories that flood your mind when you least expect them.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you call Yeosang, asking him to meet up with you for coffee so that you can figure out how to approach your relationship with San and Wooyoung. He agrees readily, and promises to set aside some time at lunch tomorrow to hear you out.

“You miss them, too.” You blink at Yeosang’s statement, before heaving a sigh and taking a sip of your drink. As usual, he doesn’t waste time with small talk and just starts with the point of the meet-up. “You’re putting off this discussion for far too long, YN.”

And he’s right, as he usually is. It’s been about two weeks since the breakdown, and you’ve managed to avoid most attempts at reaching you, placating them with a ‘soon’ whenever they text you to ask. But you’re a little too scared to reopen the conversation. What if they hate you and don’t want you anymore?

“They don’t hate you,” Yeosang interrupts your spiralling with an all-knowing look. You swear he can read your mind, and he swears you’re just easy to read. “You both just need to have a long conversation. Of course, it may not work out properly, but if not, they need to know it for future reference.”

You bite your lip, sighing like the weight of the world rests upon your shoulders. “Stop being so smart, okay? I know I should. I’m just…I don’t know how to start.”

Yeosang raises an eyebrow. “First, you should set up a date to talk. I recommend calling them.” He easily dodges your slap. “Seriously, YN. I can’t tell you what to say. Just go talk to them properly. They’re not gonna be unreasonable. They like you.”

If you sighed anymore, Yeosang would probably smack you himself. “Fine. I’ll call them tomorrow.” Yeosang narrows his eyes, and you know he’s seen right through your lie.

“Call them now. I won’t bother you or be loud.”

You start to whine, but Yeosang fixes you with such a glare that you pull out your phone begrudgingly. Your hands tremble as you dial Wooyoung's number, knowing San would probably be at work right now. The phone rings once, twice, and your heart squeezes in hope and disappointment that he hasn’t picked up yet.

You’re just about to hang up when the phone picks up, and Wooyoung’s breathy voice crackles over the receiver. “Hello? YN?” He sounds like he just ran a marathon, and you can’t help but smile. The sound of his voice on the other end of the line sends a wave of warmth through you, a bittersweet reminder of the love you've been missing.

“Hey, Wooyoung. Sorry for never getting back to you guys.” You can already feel the awkwardness and tension through the phone call. “Uh…when are you guys free to talk?”

You can hear the eagerness in Wooyoung’s voice as he responds almost immediately. “Don’t apologise, YN, okay? San and I are free tonight after five. Would you like to come round to have dinner? I’m making spicy pork belly soup. If not, tomorrow evening also works at the same time. If you need more time.”

He’s one word away from practically begging on his knees, and you feel your heartstrings tug. “Yeah, tonight works if that’s okay. Is six-thirty okay?”

“Yes!” Wooyoung has no hesitation when he answers you. “Just come up whenever—you know the door code.”

“Okay, thank you again,” you say, seconds from hanging up when his voice cuts through the phone.

“YN. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. And I’ll see you tonight.”

He ends the call before you can say anything else, and you’re left staring at the phone longingly. Yeosang’s chuckle brings you out of your thoughts. “Told you they don’t hate you,” he hums, a small smile on his lips, and you roll your eyes at him even though your heart warms.

“Should I bring a gift? Like wine or something? I don’t know…they’re feeding me. And it could be a peace offering.”

Yeosang laughs again, amused by your dilemma. “If you want to, it could be a nice gesture. But really, I think they just want to see you again.” He reaches over to you to squeeze your hand. “You guys will be just fine, okay?”

You nod, offering him your own crooked smile. “Thanks for sitting and talking, Sang. I appreciate it.” Your eyes dart to the side. “I should probably go see if I can find a proper bottle of wine, though.”

The bottle of wine in your hands is clutched so tightly you fear it may shatter in your sweaty grasp. You’re almost too scared to knock, but your longing to see your boyfriends (were they still your boyfriends?) overrides your fear, and you tap on the door lightly. It might be presumptuous to just walk in, even though Wooyoung told you they didn’t change the door code. You’ve done it many times before, but these circumstances are different.

Before you can chicken out and call it off, the door swings open, and San stands before you, his hair messy like it always ends when he tries to style it without help. Your fingers twitch as you keep yourself from reaching up to smooth it over. “...Hi,” you greet him instead, eyes flitting down to your hands. “I brought wine.”

“Thanks. Come on in. Wooyoung’s finishing up now.”

He steps aside, and you pass him, trying not to flinch as his comforting scent fills your brain. Oh, how you missed him and Wooyoung. The apartment is unchanged, and a picture of the three of you is still hung on the wall. “I hope you’ve been well?”

“Yea. I’ve been keeping busy.” San closes the door behind you, running a hand through his messy hair, which only serves to worsen it. “How about you?”

You shrug as casually as you can. “I’m doing well. Just been working…” There’s a long pause where neither of you knows what to do. “Do you need help with anything? Where do you want me to put the wine?”

San shrugs. “There’s not much to do. The table has already been set. Do you want to wash up or anything? I can pour the wine.”

You nod, handing over the bottle, being careful to avoid San’s touch before excusing yourself to the bathroom. You can practically hear the disappointed sigh leaving San’s mouth and you feel a sharp stab in your heart at how upset he seems to be but you remind yourself this is important. As Yeosang said, they have to be aware of what issues you’re having.

You glance at your weary face in the mirror, wiping at some smudged makeup and fixing your hair, taking any moment you can get to calm yourself down. When you can hear low murmurs in the kitchen of San and Wooyoung talking you know it’s about time for you to get out of the bathroom.

When you turn the corner into the kitchen, Wooyoung greets you with a tentative smile and a wake of his spatula. “Hey, YN. Hope you’re doing well. Are…are you hungry? It’s almost done.” Wooyoung speaks carefully like he’s triple-checking the words he wants to say before they come out of his mouth.

“Of course,” you laugh awkwardly. “Your food is always good. I hope you’re doing well too.”

It’s almost painful how tense the atmosphere is, and both you and Wooyoung cast a glance at San as if pleading silently for him to resolve it for you two. Before any of you guys can speak, the rice cooker beeps, slicing the thick stress in half and all three of you laugh. “Let’s eat,” San cheers, his eyes crinkling in the smile you missed.

The three of you move towards the seats, where three glasses of wine sit and side dishes are scattered around. Wooyoung holds the stew in his hands, setting it down in the middle of the table as you and San take your seats.

The dinner is mostly silent, aside from a couple of hums in delight at the taste of Wooyoung’s cooking. As much as you would deny it, you missed this. You missed being near them, being able to share the same space with them. As the three of you eat, you sneak glances at both San and Wooyoung. Aside from the tousled hair, San seems pretty put-together, with an easygoing smile on his face and dimples still prominent. But the dullness in his eyes is clear and he smiles and giggles way less than usual. Wooyoung’s face is lined with worry, hints of stubble peeking out, and you’re embarrassed to admit you find it attractive. His hands fiddle with his silverware as he eats, and the guilt returns to eat at your stomach.

“So…” you try and break the silence carefully, and both men’s eyes quickly focus on you. “...my brother’s boyfriend adopted a cat secretly and Hongjoong is livid, but I caught him cuddling with the cat just two days ago.”

San chuckles. “Sounds about right. Seonghwa definitely seems the type to. What, did he find the cat on the side of the road and ‘just couldn’t let it starve out there’?” You snort at San’s imitation of your brother.

“Almost spot on. It’s like Seonghwa is sitting right here, really.”

And with that, the conversation continues almost completely normally, like nothing had happened two weeks prior. Wooyoung prods at San’s cooking like always and you defend San but can’t help but throw in a jab of your own, one that San reaches over and pushes gently at your shoulder for.

At the touch, you freeze and Wooyoung’s eyes dart between the two of you. A long moment passes until you finally laugh stiffly and push him back. “What can I say? It’s true.”

Wooyoung smiles at the both of you, the corner of his lips crooked. “Good to see you take his side as always when it comes to cooking,” he teases. “Maybe I’ll make him cook next time.”

Next time. Your breath catches at those words and both San and Wooyoung take note of your hopeful reaction. “I’ll hold you to that.”

After dinner, all of you shuffle into the living room slowly, knowing exactly what must come. None of you want to start the conversation, but it must happen. You sit first, hands wringing in your lap. San and Wooyoung sit right next to each other, but not far from you.

“We could draw straws?” Wooyoung speaks up, his hands gripping the couch beside him. “To see who goes first.”

You don’t quite know how to react, but unlike the last time Wooyoung tried to be silly, you understand it isn’t coming from a place of malice. “I think that’s a great idea, Wooyoung,” both you and San agree, and although Wooyoung’s body tenses a tad more, his eyes soften.

“Thanks.”

With shaking hands, you hold out the straws Wooyoung had given you. Both San and Wooyoung draw, keeping their pick hidden until you pick yours. Long. San uncurls his hand and reveals his. Long.

Your gaze shifts to Wooyoung who looks just about ready to throw up at the prospect of going first. “Of course it’s me,” he laughs soullessly. “I suggested it, so I end up being first.”

“If you’re not comfortable–”

Wooyoung stops San with a quick squeeze of his hand. “No, it’s okay. I have a lot to say.” Without further ado, he turns to face you, his eyes pleading and his brows furrowed. “YN, I’m sorry. I was inconsiderate of you in the relationship, and although I meant no harm, I hurt you when I commented on ‘having more fun without you’. Although I tried to keep tension low, it only served to hurt you and I apologise for that. I should’ve been more attentive to you and considered how you may have felt when San and I went off to do our own thing without you.”

You feel a wave of relief wash over you, your heart warming at his heartfelt apology. “I really appreciate that, Wooyoung,” you hum. “I missed you a lot, and after a couple days of cooling down, I realised you meant no harm, and I could’ve told you how I felt about that with more maturity. I…I hope you don’t mind if I go next.”

San waves his hand, gesturing for you to go on. “Of course,” he agrees readily, squeezing Wooyoung’s hand gently.

“I’m sure my…complaints…about our dynamic were pretty clear. I felt left out, excluded, and separated from the two of you. And what I was feeling was valid, but my reaction wasn’t. I am sorry about how I went about talking to you guys. I assumed you wouldn’t care, and so I kept it to myself and let it boil over. And just running out on you guys was unfair of me. I didn’t explain, nor give you guys a chance to explain.”

San nods empathetically. “I was indeed hurt by your immediate assumption that we wouldn’t care. I thought it was clear we care about you—I mean, we did watch that show together and we asked if you wanted to join us next time. If you were really feeling hurt, I do wish you brought it up sooner.”

You sigh, looking down at your twisting hands, bringing one of them up to your mouth to chew lightly on the nail. “Like I said way back, I was insecure about the two of you changing your relationship dynamic just because I wanted it. Maybe it was stupid, I don’t know, but the hurt I felt wasn’t stupid. Sure, we watched the show, and sure, you asked me if I wanted to join next time. But that was it! I was an afterthought. You dismissed me when I said I wanted to join, and yet you asked me why I didn’t bring it up before?”

Before you can sink your teeth any further into your nail, Wooyoung leans forward, gently pulling your hand away from your mouth and bringing it to his lap. “Don’t bite your nails, YN. I’m sure San didn’t mean to be dismissive,” he pleads, elbowing San lightly in the ribs, who winces and nods sincerely. “I’m sure you understand, we were just hurt you didn’t trust us enough, although your reasons are understandable. We want to make things right, though, and we want you to be comfortable to talk to us about your insecurities and worries.”

“Yeah, I didn’t mean to be so defensive,” San concedes. “I got too caught up in wanting everyone to get along, I got ahead of myself. I pride myself on being the calm one, but I was too passive and that quickly turned into self-righteousness.” His hand moves to rest atop yours and Wooyoung’s, his thumb gently rubbing circles into the soft skin.

“We still want you with us, YN,” Wooyoung cuts in, “and we want to change for you. We talked about this when you were gone, and we’ll respect your decision to leave if you so wish, but we really would like to try and work this through.”

You pause for a moment. You could walk away right now, minimizing any potential hurt that could follow. But as your eyes land on your conjoined hands, any minute wish to leave is immediately squashed and you smile up at the two of them. “I want to stay too.”

San matches your smile and Wooyoung’s grip on your hand tightens almost imperceptibly. Before anything else happens, he pulls you forward, wrapping his other arm around your shoulders as he engulfs you in a warm hug. Without hesitation, San quickly joins, pressing a kiss to the top of both your and Wooyoung’s head.

As they murmur promises of how they can include you more, as well as soft ‘I love you’s in your ear, you can’t help but relax at their showcase of love. Things will turn out all right.

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avocad1s · 11 months

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this is a weird thought but I definitely know that in sagau theres some mfs making fanfiction about the creator. Like imagine the creator visiting whatever nation they go to and they just see a self insert book about them. I know some acolytes religiously read them before bed every night (cough yae miko cough)

Note: Not weird at all Anon! I enjoyed this a bit more than I should’ve.

Mostly a crackfic just the acolytes being delulu

Without a doubt there are TONS of books about you all throughout Teyvat. No matter what nation you are in, you will always find what you’re looking for if it’s related to the Creator.

People have wrote books about how you created Teyvat, their speculations on how Visions were made, and even your relationship with all of the Archons. Of course there’s no telling which books are true or not, but it’s about you and they’ll consume anything that has your name in it.

That of course includes fanfics.

The fanfics aren’t openly talked about, many people feel embarrassed and don’t want to be judged by their peers for consuming that content. People who write such content always use a pen name, not wanting to attach their work to their true self.

Despite the embarrassment, these books are quite popular in all seven nations.

The Sages in Sumeru tried to ban them for being exported to their city claiming that are extremely disrespectful and sully the image of you. But that doesn’t stop the books from being smuggled in, many people, even scholars within the Akademiya, own at least one fanfic.

Inazuma is of course the main producer of these novels. Under the guidance of Yae Miko, many people have the chance to have their work published. (Yae has no shame whatsoever 💀) The Kitsune proofreads them all personally and critiques them harshly. Only the absolute best will be coming out of her publishing house.

Liyue, the place where all goods come to be traded and sold, are the ones who get the most exports of these products. Of course they’ll say they are simply for profit, which some of them are, but lots of them are for the Liyue citizens themselves. Even the Adepti read these novels but they always comment how odd mortals are to want Their Grace in such a way. (Yeah they projecting cuz they want you too 😩🙏)

Imagine all the arguments people have had debating whether a fanfic characterized you properly or not. Lmao.

Once you’re in Teyvat the fanfics don’t stop, actually they increase.

Now people have the chance to watch you from afar and come up with even more scenarios they’d like to imagine you in.

You mention your favorite food? They’re gonna write fics about taking you on a date to get that food.

You mention your favorite hobby? Yeah, you get the idea…

Of course they never expect you to find out about these books but it’s not like they’re hiding it. Just imagine how awkward that would be to see a self-insert book about yourself.💀

Now no one is reading these books publicly, that’s way too embarrassing for them, but once the sun is down and everyone is going home to rest once again, that’s when the books come out.

You know how some people need the perfect fake scenario before they fall asleep? Yeah that’s them with these books.

They’ll read to their heart’s content and eventually fall asleep having dreams about you hoping that one day they can meet you and make the fanfic a reality. They’re a bit delusional and the fics aren’t helping 💀

#genshin cult au #sagau #genshin cult #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #sagau x reader

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yourmidnightlover · 1 year

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(You don’t have to do this) Xavier Thorpe x reader

The try not to kiss each other challenge on tiktok

ahh YES! i hope i brought your request to justice

i'm gonna take this as like a lovers to friends to lovers kinda thing bc there isnt enough of that going around with our beloved xavier

i also wanted to let y'all know that i am working through my requests! inspiration strikes at odd hours, and i'm trying to delegate all of my time respectively to all of the fics i'm working on. but i assure you i will work through everything!

tension

paring: xavier thorpe x reader (duh)

summary: after months of flirting, your friends take matters into their own hands and dared you to do a tiktok trend.

warnings: kissing, tons of tension (also duh),they're cuddly? i don't think there's really anything else but let me know if i've missed something!

it had been months and months of flirting between you and xavier thorpe. consistent, unending, raw flirting. this included the batting of eyelashes, shoving of arms, longing stares, buying of gifts... everything. the whole shebang.

and god, were enid, ajax and wednesday tired of it. wednesday constantly wanted to claw her own eyes out when she saw you. enid thought it was cute the first two months, but after that she was only confused as to why you would never make it official. and ajax would just tease the two of you. he voiced his concerns with xavier, occasionally with you, but mostly with xavier. he would mostly talk about how dumb he was to not just ask you out or make it official.

so, as enid was scrolling through tiktok, she stumbled upon a certain video of two friends... or mayabe they were more? either way, they were sitting in front of each other, and each one moved closer to the other. the premise was whoever breaks the tension and kisses the other loses, she guessed?

regardless, there was tension and there was a kiss and that is exactly what needs to happen with you and xavier in order to put everyone out of their misery.

so, she sent the tiktok to ajax and wednesday, the message reading:

weregirl: OMG! we've got to get them to do this! they'd totally admit everything!

middleoftheweek: this is repulsive to watch, but i hope it will be worth it as long as they get whatever they need to out of their system

snakes4hair: if this gives my boy the push he needs to make a move then i'll do basically whatever

and just like that... the game was afoot.

"dude," ajax was laughing at the lunch table. you had thrown your legs over xavier's lap, your head resting on his shoulder as he played with your hair. "there's this new thing i saw online the other day. enid sent it to me, and i doubt you and y/n would be able to do it," ajax chuckled as he looked towards enid.

"oh, definitely not," enid shook her head exaggeratedly. "they'd never be able to do it."

"do what?" xavier spoke up as he took a bite of your sandwich.

"yea, do what?" you perked up at the idea of a chellnege. "we could do it, right?"

"hell yea," xavier nodded as he pat your thigh. "we could 100% do it."

"i don't think you could," wednesday said curtly, sneering at both you and xavier's closeness. "at all."

"yes we could!" xavier removed his hands from your hair, throwing them up dramatically.

"alright," ajax spoke up. "i dare you to complete little challenge. you have to record it though, as proof, and post it."

"deal!" both you and xavier looked at each other, giving each other a high five that only resulted in your hands holding.

later that night, you and xavier had retreated to his shed as he painted before they sent you the video you had to recreate.

"seriously?" you scoffed. "they're just sitting there looking at each other with music playing," you looked at xavier as the video played.

"wait," he pointed at the screen. "they're like inching closer to each other. like one does and then the other."

"but why?" you got your answer less than thirty seconds later. "oh..." you glanced at xavier, who bit his lower lip before glancing at you with a smile.

"i never back down from a dare," xavier shrugged as he looked at you.

you nodded, "neither do i."

after setting up the camera with the video on the three-minute setting, about to start recording. you were sitting on the mattress that you had both smuggled in his shed, the one that used to be rowans before... well. yea. both sitting across from each other, your legs were overlapped with each other's. then, the music started playing.

at first you were both smiling, giggling, even. you inched closer to his face first, around 10 seconds after the music started. your faces seemed closer than they ever were before, and that's when the smiles faded and the tension built.

he reached around you and pulled you on top of his lap for his move. the longer this went on, the more it felt like a game of chess, only physical. you swore you could see every shade of green littering his irises. his cologne somehow radiated around you. you made the mistake of looking at his lips, curiosity getting the better of you. he was gently biting his lower lip. it was almost as if he wanted you to kiss it better.

then, you placed your hand on the lower side of his face, nearer to his neck. you could feel his pulse rate picking up. it was exciting to see what kind of power you had over him. you could now feel the way you affected him. now, you saw as his eyes went to your lips which only made you smirk that much more.

he used both of his hands to bring your face right in front of his. he was everywhere. to your side, you would see his hands. his hands took up nearly your entire face, and you loved the way they felt against your skin. part of you never wanted them to leave. you could nudge his nose with your own if you even slightly moved. you were getting close to losing this whole game. you wouldn't. you couldn't.

you tilted your head to the left, bringing your lips closer to his own but not touching. you were so close you could practically breathe in each other's air. you could feel his pulse pick up once more before you licked your lips, you felt his chuckle radiating around your head. but when you looked in his eyes you felt something totally different. it was heavier. it was more.

then, with a mumble, "screw it," he pulled your face into his own, kissing you with all the tension he had built up over not just the past two minutes, but from the past months of doing nothing.

your hand moved up to his hair, running through it like you had so many times. in this context, though, your hand running through his hair was so, so much different. it was much more intimate.

you let his tongue into your mouth happily, nearly breaking the kiss with how big of a grin you had on your face. one of his hands moved to your waist, wrapping around you like the warmest hug you've ever had. your other hand was holding the hand still on your face. you meant it when you said you never wanted them to leave.

truth be told, you never wanted him to leave. you never wanted to stop kissing him. you've wanted to for months on end, but you were too scared of being rejected. you thought he was joking about all of the flirting sometimes. the touches, everything. but this kiss felt more real than time.

"i think i won," xavier whispered as he went up for air. you shook your head.

"i think ajax won," you chuckled as you both began to laugh. "him or myself, of course," you rolled your eyes.

"we all won," he compromised.

"stupid tension, huh?"

#xavier thorpe fic #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe fluff #xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe imagine #xavier thorpe wednesday #wednesday addams #wednesday addams xavier

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girlgenius1111 · 6 months

Text

no one should be alone on christmas

barca femeni x reader

changed from the request slightly because i've read a couple fics where r tries to hide that she's gonna be alone for the holidays, and thought i'd take a slightly different approach, so as not to copy anyone :) but pinky promise there is tons of angst and fluff!

cw; mention of bad relationship with parents... implied homophobia i guess? not really discussed much though. angst, fluff, :)

The look on your teammates face when you told them you didn't have any plans for the holiday were almost comical; every one of them looked completely horrified. Sure, they knew your relationship with your parents was rocky, but they hadn't realized you didn't speak, didn't see them at all. What was almost worse was that you didn't even seem to understand why they were so appalled by you spending Christmas alone.

You knew, as soon as you left the locker room after your declaration and the room erupted into loud conversations, that your teammates would begin scheming.

Your problem was that you didn't really want to celebrate Christmas. Obviously, it was a big deal back home in England, and you'd grown up celebrating it, but those weren't the happiest of memories. For the first years of your life, Christmas had been fun. As you aged, and your parents started fighting, it didn't stay fun. Your parents had gone off the rails when you were a teenager; they were incredibly religious people, and when they felt you slipping away from this, they tightened their grasp, until it was suffocating.

Maybe the holidays wouldn't be so awful if they weren't such a stark reminder of what you no longer had, of the rift between you and your parents. Christmas 2 years ago had been the worst of your life. You'd fought with your parents all day, until a screaming match left you packing your bags. They'd had too much to drink, said things about you it was clear they were always thinking, but never vocalized. When you confirmed their suspicions in a fit of anger, they became more aggravated than you'd ever seen them.

You lived with friends for a while, once being at home became unbearable, until finally you got your first contract. You lived with teammates, then, and managed to avoid all conversations about the holidays. Since the Christmas fight, you'd sworn off the day, preferring to hibernate in your house, and actively try not to think about your parents. You missed who they were, and hated who they'd become, which made for a very confusing breakdown every year.

This was your first year at Barcelona, though, and your new team was not content to let you sit alone as you normally did. Especially not when you were only 19, and especially not when a lot of them had taken to acting like concerned mothers with you.

You didn't want to celebrate though, you couldn't. In the days following your locker room chat, you noticed your teammates being slightly odd around you; they weren't very subtle, and they were clearly planning something. Whether it was a Christmas kidnapping or a team party, you weren't sure. All you knew was that you wanted no part of it.

Telling the entire team this, though, didn't seem like something you wanted to do. So instead, you went to the only people you knew had the power to stop whatever horrifying red and green themed atrocity was being planned.

You weren't used to this, really, needing to talk to your captains about anything serious. You'd decided to pull Alexia aside after practice, and tried to be as normal as possible so as not to worry anyone. It didn't seem to work.

"What's up, y/n?" Alexia asked, once you were alone in the hall.

"Could we talk once everyone's gone? I just... there's something I need to talk to you about." You internally winced at how poorly you'd phrased that. Alexia's previously relaxed face was now one of worry as she scrutinized you.

"Of course. Just me?" she asked, her voice uncharacteristically warm. She'd clearly picked up on the anxiety oozing off your body.

"Um... maybe Mapi too?" you asked. Again, your teammates weren't subtle individuals, Mapi least of all. It had become obvious that she was the instigator of whatever plan was in motion.

"Si, I'll tell her." Alexia stated, before giving you a reassuring smile and leading you into the locker room.

-----

Alexia had directed you to an empty office, shuffling in with Mapi behind you. You sat in one of the chairs facing the desk, as they both perched on the edge of the desk. You felt ridiculously like a kid in trouble at school, as your leg tapped nervously, and the girls both looked down at you. They weren't angry, though, and you weren't in trouble.

"I know you guys are planning to do something with me for Christmas," you blurted, not really sure where to start. Mapi got a sky grin on her face, but Alexia's expression remained unchanged, the unease on your face making her heart clench.

"No, what would give you that idea, pequeña?" Mapi questioned teasingly.

"Please don't. I don't like Christmas, I don't want to celebrate. I know you guys feel bad, but I really, really just prefer doing my own thing." You responded, going with the sentences you'd practiced in your head on the way to practice this morning.

Mapi's face had fallen, and you felt guilty despite knowing that you were just doing what you needed to do.

"Why don't you like Christmas?" Alexia asked, brow furrowed.

"I just don't," you replied, biting tone making Alexia and Mapi exchange looks. You weren't normally so serious, or so defensive. You were staring hard at the ground, as though you wished it would swallow you up.

Mapi extended her foot, poking it against yours softly until you rolled your eyes and looked up at her.

"Why don't you like Christmas?" They weren't letting you out of this one easily. You took a big breath, fixing your gaze back down at your feet, before you spoke.

"My parents were really difficult. Not always, but for a while. I left home on Christmas 2 years ago. I haven't seen them since. It's not a very fun day for me," you explained, working hard to keep your voice from shaking.

Alexia and Mapi were silent, and you chanced a look up at them. Both were deep in thought, frowns etched across their faces.

"It's really not a big deal. I just don't do Christmas, I don't want to do Christmas. So whatever you're plotting, please don't," you said, desperate for them to understand.

"I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be rude," you started, suddenly alarmed that you'd seem ungrateful, but you were interrupted.

"No, don't apologize. Never apologize for telling us when you don't like something we're doing," Alexia said firmly, seeming to know what to say for the first time in minutes. "If you don't want to do Christmas, we don't make you." Mapi nodded her head rapidly in agreement.

"You were supposed to spend Christmas Eve with Marta and Caro, Christmas with me, and then go to Mapi's for a couple days, but we don't have to do any of that," Alexia continued, and you felt a wave of an unknown emotion wash over you.

You'd expected they'd been planning something, but not that they'd had you delegated somewhere every day of the break. It wasn't an overall bad feeling, just one you weren't used to.

"Thank you," you stated quietly, not really sure what else to say.

"The offers stand, though, pequeña. If you change your mind," Mapi insisted. "Also, ... it's possible that I rigged the secret santa and multiple people have you, and there isn't really anything I can do about that. So you'll get your gifts but you can be alone," she continued, biting her lip. She looked worried, as if you would be mad. Alexia looked slightly annoyed that Mapi had rigged the gift exchange, but much too preoccupied with you to yell at her then.

"Mapi," you groaned, allowing a small smile to form on your face, assuring her that you weren't mad. The gifts, you didn't mind. You could pretend they weren't Christmas related, and they'd be a good distraction.

Mapi launched into an animated story of how she managed to rig the exchange, [she'd just ended up giving more people presents to make up for all the people getting you things,]. The tricky part was, apparently, doing it behind Ingrid's back; this, you didn't doubt.

They walked you to your car, sensing that you didn't really want to talk any more about it, but leaving you with unusually tight hugs. You appreciated them a lot, even if they were too overbearing sometimes.

-----

When Mapi told you she'd messed with the Secret Santa, you assumed she meant that 2 people had you. Maybe 3. You were wrong.

First up at your apartment the first day of break, before everyone departed for their respective homes, was Ona. She'd managed to get you your favorite sweets from England, an entire box full. She stayed and chatted with you for a while, insisting that she didn't have anywhere to be until later. She was quite successful at getting your mind off things, and had you laughing with her after a bit. When she left, you made sure to tell her to thank Lucy for helping her with the gift, and she stammered out an agreement, a deep blush coating her cheeks.

Aitana showed up next, her gift amusedly from both her and Keira, as the ginger had helped her pick it out. It was a new washbag, not unlike Alexia's. They must have noticed you eyeing it appreciatively. Aitana also brought a mass amount of Christmas cookies, making you eat three before she left.

Patri and Claudia showed up next, pushing past you into your apartment as soon as you opened the door. They'd gotten you approximately 8 new games for your switch, and insisted on trying all of them with you. It left you wondering who the gift was really for, considering they often came over to play on the switch with you. Regardless, they stayed late into the evening, despite both having to get up early to head home the next morning.

Mapi and Ingrid arrived, bringing chaos with them. More Mapi than Ingrid. The Norwegian had gotten you a set of light blue ceramic mugs that matched your kitchen perfectly. You'd barely had time to admire them before Mapi was taking them out of your hands, and dragging you over to her absurdly large present. It was perfectly wrapped, like Ingrid's had been, and her cheeky smile told you that she wasn't as innocent as she'd like you to believe. You opened the box, finding it weirdly light. The inside was completely empty, and you looked at the girls in confusion. The doorbell rang then, and your confusion only grew, as Mapi had said she'd be the last to stop by.

You opened the door to reveal Alexia, holding a squirming puppy in her arms, with a bow haphazardly placed on it's head. Your jaw dropped. You'd mentioned wanting a dog a few times, but you'd wanted to wait until you settled in more.

"Is that... mine?" you asked, and all 3 girls laughed at your astonishment.

"Si!!" Mapi shouted, so overcome with excitement that she was practically bouncing up and down next to you. Alexia handed you the dog, and you noted that she was smiling wider than you'd ever seen her. Alexia and dogs.

He was a little thing, a mini long haired dachshund, light brown in color. His tail was wagging furiously, and he snuggled up to you right away, licking your face eagerly. You were completely speechless, almost moved to tears.

"Thank you," you said looking around at your teammates. You really didn't know what else to say; they'd gone so above and beyond, so out of their way to make these days slightly easier for you, to make sure you weren't alone, even if you wouldn't let them be there with you.

You handed the dog to Ingrid, before all but tackling Mapi in a hug.

"Te gusta?" she asked triumphantly, already knowing the answer. You nodded into her embrace, taking a second to pull yourself together, before hugging Alexia and Ingrid in turn. You hoped the hugs would convey what words could not.

They stayed for a bit, helping you get the dog settled, and watching him when you ran to the store to get puppy supplies. When they left, you could tell they seemed slightly sad; everything they'd done, and they still didn't feel like it was enough.

As Alexia hugged you goodbye, she spoke softly into the top of your head. "I'm around, y/n, if you're having a rough time, or you need someone to talk to. Call me, text me. Anytime. Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, I don't care."

You nodded in response, entirely sure that you wouldn't take her up on that; she'd done enough already.

-----

The days leading up were fine, fun even, especially with a puppy to take care of. You didn't think the day would hit you as hard this year, which maybe was naive. It hid you harder than it ever had. For the first time in a while, you were experiencing love and care in the way you used to from your parents. It made you miss the old versions of them. This, in turn, had you furious at them for becoming the people they'd become, so vile, so cruel. It was like there were two versions of them in your head; the smiling, blurry figures from your childhood. The angry, mean, much more vivid memories from your teenage years.

You wished that they hadn't hate a part of to the point that they might as well have just hated you as a whole. You were poisoned to them, for something you couldn't control.

You were in the midst of what was becoming your annual breakdown, this time trying to keep your sobs quiet as your puppy was passed out on the couch next to you, when your phone rang. It was Mapi calling. You picked up before you could stop yourself, desperate to hear a kind voice.

"Hola pequeña! Just wanted to check in," Mapi sang over the phone.

"Hola Mapi," you responded softly, not really sure how to disguise how upset you were, now that you'd picked up.

"Are you okay y/n?" she asked, her voice much quieter.

"Yeah. Today just isn't very much fun."

"I'm sorry, pequeña. Is there anything I can do?" she asked, and this was what broke you. She'd done so much, yet she was still so desperate to make it better. It didn't make sense to you, why this person cared more about you and your happiness than your parents had.

You tried to keep your sobs muffled, not wanting to alarm Mapi, but she could tell what was going on. She didn't seem to know what to say or what to do, and you felt embarrassment flood your body at the fact that you were openly sobbing on the phone to your older teammate. You bit your lip, hard, forcing yourself to steady your breaths so you could speak.

"Fuck, I'm sorry Mapi. I'm fine, don't worry. Enjoy your Christmas.

"No, y/n, wait,"

You hung up. You fell apart again, burying your face in the soft couch cushions. Your phone buzzed under you again and again, no doubt Mapi calling you back. Time was a blur as you cried, and you really couldn't have said how much time passed before there was a frantic knock at your door. Your puppy barked, launching himself across the room towards the door.

You knew who it was before you even got up, cursing yourself for not answering one of Mapi's calls to assure her you were really fine. You should have known she'd call Alexia panicking.

Sure enough, when you opened your door, you got a quick glimpse of her face, outfit, hair, all telling you she had left some celebration to come to you, before she was smashing into you, pulling you into her arms. You were crying again, or maybe you'd never stopped, and Alexia pulled back to look down at your face, frantically checking to see if you were physically okay. Mapi's call must have been really panicked, then, if she hadn't explained well enough what had happened on your own phone call.

"What happened?" Alexia asked. You shrugged through your tears, which seemed to be enough to convince Alexia that you hadn't broken any bones. She led you back to your couch, tucking you into her side as she called Mapi back. She spoke quietly to her teammate, letting you feel what you needed to feel, and assuring Mapi that she had you, and that you'd be alright. It was reassuring to you, too, really.

Alexia's presence was unwavering, arm wrapped tightly around your shoulders, every so often wiping tears off your face. When you were done crying, finally, she handed you your water, instructing you to drink. You did, placing the water back down on the table, and scooping up your puppy back onto your lap.

"Sorry you had to come," You rasped eventually, running your fingers through the dogs fur, soothing him as well as yourself.

"Don't be. I'm glad Mapi called me. I'm glad she called you, you shouldn't have to be alone when you're upset."

"Your family-"

"-all understood that I needed to be here," she finished, gaze fixed steadily on you.

"Thank you for coming," you said, pausing. "I'm not really used to this. All these people caring."

"Well, you better get used to it, because we all care about you, a lot. And we're always going to make sure you're okay, even when you tell us you are. You're not always very believable when you say you're fine."

Her words hit hard, and you sat in silence for a bit, until your puppy got bored, and attempted to gnaw on Alexia's hand. You both laughed, watching as he got distracted again, this time by your foot sticking out of a blanket.

"Come on, get dressed. We'll take him to go meet my family. Get some of that energy out."

Alexia presented this as a statement, but her face held a question, and you knew she would stay here with you, if that's what you wanted. You were surprised to find that it wasn't. You took her outstretched hand, and she smiled triumphantly. You smiled too. When you'd moved here, you hadn't smiled much. You found yourself smiling a lot more now; because of your teammates mostly. They had changed your life, when you hadn't realized you'd needed it to be changed. It was really amazing, what a little love could do for someone who was hurting.

-----

that was so much longer than i intended!!!! got a tad carried away. also mapi didn't tear her meniscus in this because i said so.

#woso #woso imagine #woso x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #mapi leon #alexia putellas #ona batlle #aitana bonmati #patri guijarro #claudia pina

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soupandsimple · 29 days

Text

Feelings (with Aaron Hotchner)

[ the lead up of you and neighbor, Aaron, revealing you have feelings for each other ]

* fluff 🩶 (+ light angst)

** have never watched the show, have never wrote for him and will probably never write for him again but I’ve read a ton of his fics and had this idea and just really wanted to write it out and share it!(pls be nice)

…………….

Aaron is your divorcee neighbor; has been for about a year. Within that year, you’d say you’d become pretty good friends with him as well as with his son who he had with him most weekends. To anyone, it was all seemingly platonic from both ends. You’d bake and gift them batches of sweets and he’d take down any packages you may need sent out on his way to work in the morning…etc.

Any unspoken feelings either of you harbored unfortunately only began to come to light when his ex wife, Hayley, was horrifically killed.

Aaron came to your door as soon as he could the night of the tragedy and with glossy eyes said, “Is this a bad time? I need someone to talk to.”

“No, of course not. Come in,” your voice shook, instantly thinking the worst. “What happened Aaron, where’s Jack? Is he okay?”

“He’s fine, he’s with..with Hayley’s family,” he said, struggling to keep up his stoic demeanor before completely breaking down in sobs. “Oh Y/N.. it’s awful, it’s — … you have- you have no idea.”

That was the first night you ever spent together. He had fallen asleep on your shoulder with teary eyes as you ran your fingers through his hair to soothe him. When you both woke up in the morning, Aaron apologized for burdening you with his troubles and said he had to get going to see what was going on with the funeral preparations. Although neither of you mentioned it, there was a shift in your friendship from that day forward.

After giving him some space to tend to what he needed to do, you went over to his place.

“Hi. I was going to come over yesterday but who wants to see anyone after a funeral..” you said lightly, walking in after he gestured you inside his apartment.

“I would have loved if you did.”

You nodded and tried not to blush as he closed the door. “Is Jack here?”

“No. I’m letting him spend one last day with Hayley’s parents while they’re still in town.”

He then went on to explain how the plan was for his sister-in-law, Jess, to start coming around to help out with Jack when he couldn’t be with him but that in the meantime, he’d be looking after him while he took some time off from work while Jack took some time off from school too.

“Well I hope you know you can also count on me helping out too.”

“I wouldn’t ask that of you, but you’re more than welcome to. I know Jack loves having you around...”

You ordered takeout that night so he wouldn’t have to make dinner or be alone and before you left, promised you’d be back in the morning.

“Y/N, when you said you could help I thought you meant after I went back to work. You don’t have to start rearranging your schedule yet, I’m still going to be around for a couple of days.”

“I know…but I know you and I know you’ve been putting up a brave front for me tonight and you don’t have to do that with me. I want to be here for you to lean on these coming days.”

“I don’t-”

“I’ll be here tomorrow, and don’t forget to drink that cup of tea I made you before bed, ” you said with a quick, parting hug, leaving him no time to protest as you were already back inside your own place.

You ended up helping the following days more than he ever expected. Since you were an assistant to an event planner, you worked mostly from home making and getting calls; the hours were very flexible so it gave you the ability to do all you could for the Hotchner boys.

Meals and household chores, like laundry and dishes, were all easier for Aaron to accomplish with you around; you were such a positive encouragement for both of them as you made sure Jack stayed on top of his tasks too, like making his bed, brushing his teeth and cleaning up after himself.

Of course with being over everyday, Jack began clinging to you more than he ever used to and while you loved the little boy to pieces, you were worried if you being around so much would affect him negatively. When you expressed your worries to Aaron one night after Jack went to sleep, he immediately put them to an end.

“I don’t know if you knew this but Hayley knew about you. Jack would talk to her about you … and she enjoyed it— listening to how much you cared for her little boy,” Aaron told you as you both stood leaning against the island in his dimly lit kitchen before you left for the night.

“I didn’t know that,” you answered, eyes beginning to gloss.

So what if he left out the small detail of Hayley telling him he should ask out his pretty neighbor Jack always talked about; that wasn’t the important part of the memory, well, important for the matter at hand anyway.

“And almost every night before bed, Jack tells me that he’s happy you’ve been coming everyday. That you make him feel ‘okay-er’. Y/N, he loves you and he knows you’re not here to replace anyone.”

Mind at ease then, with a small smile and a stray tear or two, you pushed yourself off the kitchen island and hugged yourself into his chest, which he more than happily accepted and embraced you tightly into for a minute.

“Thanks for making me feel ‘okay-er’ about all this,” you said, looking up at him from where your head rested against him.

He smiled down at you and wiped a tear from your cheek. “Thank you for being here for us.”

All was well as the days went on until it was time for Aaron to return to work. Jack had returned to school the day before and since everything went smoothly, Aaron could then confidently go back to work too knowing Jack had readjusted just fine.

But that morning, Aaron took longer than usual to come out dressed for the day after breakfast, and the time frame he could use to take Jack to school before work was starting to get dangerously close to closing.

“Hey Jack, I’m going to go check on your dad. If he doesn’t come out soon you just might be late for school. Stay put while I get him, finish watching your show,” you said, tickling his side a little making him giggle as you walked off to Aarons room.

You knocked twice at his door and when he didn’t answer either time, you took a little bit of a risk and went in uninvited. What you saw was him sitting on the edge of his bed, looking down at the floor pensively, dress shirt untucked and tie undone around his collar.

“Aaron?” you spoke quietly.

“I can’t do this,” he said, still looking down.

You closed the door behind you and slowly walked towards him.

“You can’t do what?”

“Return to the real world.”

Your eyebrows furrowed a bit as you sat down next to him and waited for him to continue.

“It’s been- it’s been so great being here in the apartment with just Jack and you… in our own little private world but I’m afraid— it just all feels so different. I feel different. I don’t think I’m going back mentally the same way I left.”

“Well of course you’re not going back the same. You went through something incredibly traumatizing..”

You grabbed one of the bottom edges of his tie and looked down at your fingers as you delicately ran them back and forth over the smooth silk.

“Aaron, I know you’re a little nervous of stepping back into everyday life and I’m.. a little nervous for you too but you got this. I believe in you. You’re the best at what you do and nobody can take that away from you,” you said, letting go of the tie. When you looked up at him, his eyes were on you and seemed to be full of fondness; it made you blush.

“N-now finish getting ready so you can go drop off that adorable little boy out there in time,” you smiled, nervously standing from where you sat next to him.

As you turned to walk away, he stood too and stretched his hand out to gently grab one of your wrists. You turned back completely and both just looked into each other’s eyes for a few seconds; millions of unspoken words and emotions passing between you.

He then finally spoke.

“I really hope I’m not ruining anything but more than ever, I think it’s important to tell you I’ve had feelings for you for pretty much as long as I’ve known you.”

“I’ve had those feelings too, for you,” you admitted.

Relieved, he smiled and you did the same. Slipping his hand down from your wrist, he then took your hand into his properly and interlocked his fingers with yours.

Towering over you like always, he stepped closer and closer and slowly craned his head down as he gently placed the hand that wasn’t holding yours, behind your head. You both closed your eyes and you could feel his lips right in front of yours but could tell he was hesitant to go further.

“Kiss me Aaron,” you told him with a little tremble in your voice. And although you couldn’t see him, you felt him smile before he softly pushed his lips against yours.

Your first kiss was a tender one but after the initial pull away, both his hands landed on your waist and yours around his neck as you leaned back into each other for a more heated and passionate kiss. It was an internal struggle, but eventually you managed to pull yourself away from his lips completely.

“Jack needs to get to school,” you giggled.

Aaron rested his forehead against yours. “And I need to get to work. This beautiful neighbor of mine believes in me and I don’t want to let her down.”

“Hm, sounds like a smart girl,” you teased.

He stood tall and interlocked his hands with each of yours. “Incredibly smart, incredibly caring, incredibly attractive.. the list could go on,” he concluded, embracing you with a warm hug and a kiss to the top of your head. <3

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner fic #neighbors to lovers #neighbor aaron hotchner

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monseulamourrr · 6 months

Text

→ “can’t help but love you.” || ahn yujin x reader fic.

— you planned a study date with your favourite girl after a long time of being separated due to your busy lives, and you noticed a tiny change on her that made you itch to do something new for the night…

word count: 1.7k.

tags: tooth-rotting fluff. that's it. tee hee.

requested? : nope.

a/n: hiya 🤓 welcome to ena’s fluff era 😭😭 i’m still gonna be very active on pupyuj and ofc i’ll still do tons of work there but this account is where all of my works that aren’t smut will go!! i hope you guys enjoy the work i will do here as much as you enjoyed the ones on pupyuj 🥺 p.s. ik the title is a bit far-off from the synopsis but let’s ignore it—

2:07 a.m., it said on the digital clock sitting on your desk.

surprisingly enough, you were not tired. maybe it was the caffeine coursing through your veins, or the fact that you were actually enjoying studying for once. you weren’t a masochist; you could only be enjoying studying for one reason and it was because of one ahn yujin—your girlfriend who you were fortunate enough to accompany you this night.

“where are you going, (y/n)?” you heard yujin whine as soon as you started shuffling away from her side. she looked cute! with her oversized sweater that had her volleyball team’s mascot (in chibi form!) stitched on it (yujin was a middle blocker), her big glasses, and the scrunchie on her wrist that was so obviously yours.

between the hours and hours of staring at a screen, scribbling down notes, and reading material, yujin was fucking exhausted and it showed on her (very handsome—) face. she had a pout on her pretty lips—neither of you have spoken to each other too much in the name of trying to focus on your studies but yujin loved just having you there with her.

“i’m just going to get another cup of coffee. i’ll be back,” you said, squeezing her hand. but as soon as you tried to pull away, yujin yanks you back to her side, wrapping an arm around your waist tightly and pressing up against you. “baby! it takes like three minutes.” you giggle.

“no, you’ve already had too much… we’ll go to sleep soon,” her words were a bit muffled since she had her face buried on the crook of your neck. she raises her head slightly, looking up at you with her big puppy eyes that never ever failed to soften you up. “and i don’t like it when you’re away.” she mumbles.

oh, how she melts your heart.

“alright, cutie. i’ll stay.” you said, bumping your nose gently against hers.

if the way she almost immediately agreed to having a joint study session when you texted her about it days ago wasn’t enough to tell you how much she missed you, perhaps how she kissed you right now would. so soft you could barely feel it, and so sweet that warmth bloomed in your chest. you broke the kiss slightly just to take yujin’s glasses off her face, making her giggle softly before kissing you again.

a bit stronger this time—her hand rested on your waist, gently squeezing every now and then as she whimpered while you put your hand on the back of her neck, playing with her hair. her lips tasted like chocolates, most likely from the little treats she consumed every now and then because it helped her ‘focus’. you knew yujin just had a sweet tooth.

you could taste the chocolate on her lips, and after a single swipe of your tongue on her lips, you could taste it in her mouth. this was a much needed break, so you didn’t complain when yujin pulled you to her lap. both of you laughed at the way you nearly knocked yujin’s laptop off the bed, willing you to put your hands on her cheeks and control the kiss as you pleased.

‘finally,’ you thought. you felt your girlfriend tug at your shirt, making you laugh once again. she can be so needy. ‘we’ve both been waiting for too long.’

just as the kiss started to lead the two of you in that direction, something tickled the tip of your nose. you leaned back slightly, wondering just what gave you that weird sensation. yujin’s eyes slowly fluttered open, her lips forming another pout since she was so desperate (and determined!) to kiss you all night. then, you notice it—her cute bangs that have grown way too long.

they were nearly poking at her eyes! at first glance, yujin looked so cute but then you remembered the way she would shake her head softly every now and then to get her bangs away from her eyes, or how she would brush them away every second… and just then, you had a brilliant idea.

“baby, no… come back.” yujin whined when you slid off her lap. you grabbed a spare folding chair from the depths of your closet (you don’t remember why you have that, actually…) and disappeared into your bathroom. you were thankful to conveniently have a roommate who took cosmetology classes because any extra equipment she had, she stuffed it under your bathroom sink.

and so, you pulled out a cape and a pouch that contained various combs and scissors before swinging the bathroom door back open. yujin was standing right there, all cute and sleepy and very much confused.

“i need you to change into one of my shitty shirts.” you said, earning a head tilt from the taller girl.

“i love all your shirts, though.”

“come on…” you sighed deeply and went through your drawer on your own. inside you found a grey t-shirt with its design all faded out and chipped. yujin puts the shirt on as you so kindly requested and immediately, you dragged her inside the bathroom and sat her down in front of the mirror on the chair.

“look,” you gave her a kiss on her crown and softly patted her bangs. “i’m going to give them a little trim!” you exclaimed with a big smile.

yujin should be scared. not once has she ever seen you cut hair nor has she seen you hold a pair of scissors so clumsily like you did with the one you had on your hand now but instead, she grinned as widely as you did. “really?! i didn’t know you knew how to cut hair, baby!” she says excitedly. she turns her head to you—with her ‘brightness of a thousand suns’ grin and eye-smile, you couldn’t help but melt.

“j-just a little… but you don’t mind?” you asked.

“of course not! i believe in you,” yujin assures you. “plus, this is way cheaper than going to the salon and paying hundreds just for a little cut.”

you chuckled, “you’re lucky you’re my girlfriend then. otherwise i would’ve charged you like fifty dollars.”

yujin laughs along, “yeah. i’m really lucky.” she replied with warmth and sincerity in her voice. you couldn’t hold yourself back; you leaned down and gave her a sweet kiss on the lips. chocolates, still.

not long after you decided to get to work—yujin sat there quietly, trying her very hardest not to bop her head to the music you’ve put on (it was one of your shared playlists, particularly yujin’s favourite of the bunch) to fill the silence. yujin stared at your face through the mirror, her heart increasing its size every time she catches you do your little habits: biting the corners of your lips, blowing your own hair away when it gets in the way of your eyes, and the way your eyebrows furrowed so deeply from how focused you were.

“does that look okay?” you asked after a few minutes, stepping aside. her bangs were still a bit long, but you didn’t want to overdo it just in case yujin actually liked having them long.

“hm… they’re still a bit…” yujin replied, moving her head softly. obviously she wanted it shorter, so once again you gave her a kiss on the cheek before continuing your work.

it was obvious that yujin was struggling to sit still. she was a very active person! heck, while you were studying for hours, yujin would take small paces around your room and poke around every forty minutes just to keep herself entertained. of course, yujin wouldn’t dare ruin her hair so instead, she decided to keep her hands busy by playing with the hem of your shirt. she’d poke on your stomach, making you laugh and jokingly kick her shin but she’d do it again and you wouldn’t say anything. her cold hands felt right against your warm skin.

a few more laughs, short kisses, and ‘snips’ later, you once again stepped aside to let yujin have a look of herself.

“whoa!” your girlfriend exclaimed. she touches her bangs, moves her head around, and beams up at you. “you’re amazing, baby!” she was saying as you cleaned up the scissors and the cape. as soon as you took it off of her, yujin leaps up from her chair and hugs you tightly.

she peppers your face with kisses amidst your giggles and half-hearted attempts of kissing her back. “you’re the best, (y/n). thanks a lot.” yujin whispers in your ear as she embraced you a bit more gently. your caressed her hair, giving her a chaste kiss on her shoulder, before melting into her.

the two of you stayed that way for a while, until you leaned back to take a look at your girlfriend’s face. she was beautiful, except that her bangs were a bit shorter and, in yujin’s most honest opinion, a lot cuter. you pulled her down to give her a kiss in the forehead, her favourite, before she captures your lips in a kiss. having been this amazing girl’s lover for years now, you’ve come to know where these unexpected make-out sessions lead up to… and you definitely did not want the two of you to go there when the bathroom floor was littered with tiny strands of yujin’s hair.

“clean up first, babe,” you whispered against yujin’s lips. that got you another whine. “please?”

well, that quickly got yujin moving around. you laughed as she cleaned up the entire bathroom in record time and before you knew it, it looked as good as new. the least you could do was put the equipment away, so you folded up the cape and put the scissors in the pouch before tossing it all under the sink once again.

as soon as you stood back up, yujin hugs you from behind. you smile at her through the mirror, she smiles back. even brighter. you intertwined your hands and of course… yujin’s lips were on your skin again.

you giggled, feeling her soft kisses from your neck to your cheek, “do you ever get tired, baby?” you asked, turning your head and catching one of her many, many kisses.

yujin shakes her head, smiling at you like she wants you to fall in love with her all over again, “can’t help it.”

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vxntagedior · 2 years

Note

can i request a poly!marauders x reader fic where they hurt her feelings or fuck up somehow and she’s SUPER stubborn and they have to grovel a shit ton to get her forgiveness and then they have makeup sex? i’m just not the immediate forgiver type and want to read something that reflects that lmao

forgive us?

summary | you're stubborn and they want to make it up to you

pairing | poly!marauders x fem!reader

warning | 18+ minors dni, smut [makeup sex, dom!reader, sub!james, remus & sirius, f oral, p in v, slight mommy kink, creampie, cum eating]

word count | 1.3k

From a young age you always thought that everyone had one chance, because in the real world there were no second chances.

The boys knew that from the moment they met you, and promised that they would always have your trust.

Wrong.

“How many times do we have to say sorry?” Sirius pleaded following you around the library, you hadn’t talked to them in days and each tried to get a word out of you but you were sticking your ground and keeping your mouth shut.

Your steps halted as you came across the book you were looking for, your hand pulling Sirius’s eyes from you. Following the direction of your hand, seeing your book you needed was on a higher shelf, Sirius complied, grabbing the book for you.

He was stunned when you pressed a kiss on his cheek before wandering off, fast enough so he wouldn’t follow you.

It was a step in the right direction right?

James was panicking, they didn’t mean to miss the date you planned for them and now they were paying the price for it.

Hogsmeade was beautiful during the winter, the villagers hanging up lights on their stores, the snow constantly falling from the sky, having it be the perfect weather for butterbeers.

It was the last Hogsmeade trip before Yule break and you wanted to see all of them before going home.

You met them early that morning, making sure to meet you at Three Broomsticks at noon, each boy giving you their word before you left. It was around 11:50 when you arrived. You always liked to be early, getting a table that was facing the village but also under the heat so none of you would be shivering.

Hearing the clock struck 12, you still gave them a little leeway, knowing they were usually a couple minutes late to everything, but eventually it was 12:15, 12:30 now 1:30 and they weren’t there.

Madam Rosmata was kind enough to give you your butterbeer in the house, and gave you a lecture about how you shouldn’t wait for no man.

The walk back to Hogwarts was cold, the castle was empty, only a few stragglers, ones who didn't go to Hogsmeade or came back early.

Gryffindor’s common room was quiet when you entered. Taking a few more steps farther in, you heard a bang from above your head, looking up to see the bucket falling down to you.

You scream feeling the slime cover, before hearing the sounds of cheering.

“We got you!”

James was the first to come out, his happy face slowly turning into horor. “Oh, merlin!”

“You look beautiful today.” James whispered to you during class, you ignored him continuing to listen to Slughorn go over the potion you were about to make.

“Did you do something with your hair?” He tried again, twirling one the ends.

“Mr. Potter!” James straightened up, turning his attention back to Professor Slughorn, “would you like to tell me what is in an antidote to Veritaserum?”

“I-uh…” James fumbled on his words.

“10 points from Gryffindor.”

Remus had been avoiding you like the plague, if he saw you coming down the corridor, he’d walked the other way. He didn’t want to admit it, but Remus was scared of you when you got mad.

You wouldn’t talk to them yet you would continue on like nothing happened.

He felt stiff sitting next to you in the common room, you four of you were working on your own set of assignments, you and Remus on the couch, James on the chair with Sirius leaning his body against it.

“Is there any way for you to forgive us?” Remus whispered to you, “We’ll do anything for your love.”

That sentence sparked a lightbulb in your head, you smirked to yourself before turning to look at him.

“Anything?” You asked.

It was the first time you spoke to them since you came back from break, Sirius and James snapping their heads up to look at you.

“C’mon.” You grabbed Remus’s hand, pulling him towards their room, James and Sirius following obediently behind you. They all stood in the center of the room waiting for you to make the next move.

Their eyes were attached to your body as you started to undress, taking off every piece of your uniform before you were left in your bra and panties.

Sirius gulped loudly when you sat on his bed, slowly spreading your legs, letting them see the wet patch on your panties.

“C’mere Jamie.” You becockened, James scrambled towards you, sitting on his knees between your legs. “Such a good boy, go ahead baby.”

James moved your panties to the side, exposing your glistening cunt to him, his lips kissing along your inner thighs before coming to your clit giving it a light kiss. You groaned, gripping his hair, pulling him up to look at you.

“I didn't say tease me, did I?” You raised an eyebrow.

“No, mommy, I’m sorry.” James dipped his head in embarrassment.

Remus and Sirius stood and watched as James dipped in his head back between your thighs, licking up your arousal, making sure he didn’t miss anything. Sirius tried to hide the boner in his pants, cupping the tent of his pants.

“You two.” You nodded, each boy came to your side. You gripped Sirius’s chin, “You gotta make it up to me baby.”

Neither of them said anything more, Sirius diving right to your neck, latching his lips around your skin, kissing the column on your neck. Remus pulled down the straps of your bra, seeing your perked nipples, pinching them before wrapping his lips around one.

You moaned at the feeling of their mouths all over your body, collapsing onto the pillows, sitting up on your elbows to look.

James’s lips continued to suck on your clit, as he pushed in another finger, starting to scissor the two.

“I’m gonna cum, Jamie.” Those words were like magic to his eyes, continuing to lap up your clit along with picking up speed, feeling your clit start to twitch in his mouth.

“Oh fuck!” You cried, Sirius pulled away from your neck, pulling you in for a kiss, swallowing your moans, letting his tongue meet yours.

“Wanna fuck you.” James pleaded. “Please mommy.”

“I don’t know baby, you have to share with the other boys.” You smirked. Remus was more than eager to volunteer, coming up to the bed, pulling you into his lap while trying to push down his pants.

James came up next to you and Remus, giving you a light kiss, before eyeing your tits.

Sirius sat below you, sucking Remus while he waited. “You gonna put it in for me babe?” He nodded at your words, lining Remus towards your entrance, watching you sink down.

“Fuck.” You leaned back, lifting your hips before slamming them back down on his cock, “Your cock feels so good Rem.”

The praise went straight to his cock, Remus trying to control himself to not cum so fast. His hands were on your tits, massaging them, slowing down your waist, when James started to kiss down your chest.

Sirius continued to lick between Remus’s balls and your ass, feeling the weight of your ass press his forehead everytime you came down.

With all the stimulation they gave you, you couldn’t hold it anymore, coming undone on Remus.

“Cum with me.” You whispered in his ear, pressing a kiss to the clear to his ear. “Fill me up!”

He was practically growling, his hands gripping on your waist, feeling you squeeze around him gave him that final push to cum. Sirius wasted no time, to lick up all the cum that leaked out of you, before continuing to eat you out.

Your body was pressed against Remus, smoothing out the hair on James’s head. He smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“I forgive you guys.” You hummed, “Who couldn’t after that.”

fin.

#poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders x fem!reader #poly!marauders x girlfriend!reader #marauders x reader #james potter x reader #remus lupin x reader #sirius black x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x girlfriend!reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin x girlfriend!reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x girlfriend!reader #poly!marauders

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tenelkadjowrites · 16 days

Text

i've been putting off making a formal announcement on this blog but i think i've reached a point where i can say the blog as everyone knows it is...done. the hiatus has turned into a retirement of sorts.

basically, going forward, there is no promise of any fics being posted, no more tag lists, no more icon/header changes for a hwa fic, etc. fics can be posted randomly and not just be focused on hwa, it'll be about whatever catches my attention and i want to write a fic on. this could mean months upon months with no update. it could mean i never update again. idk i am not really focusing on it.

so yeah, thats the short version. longer version under the cut.

the thing about running this blog is that over time it ended up being whatever idea i had needed to be tweaked in order to feel comfortable post it here. that could be trying to put smut scenes in, or thinking about the dynamic and how it would come across to an audience, or if i went too long without posting and it would weigh on me.

after my move to toronto, i hit burn out with the blog. i missed writing original works, and i missed the genre exploration i liked to do with original pieces such as horror. i dealt with a sort of nagging guilt if i didn't post on here for long periods of time and i felt like if i kept pushing against how my brain was going, the fics posted here would suffer in quality.

ppl who have read this far know that i don't pay attention to the amount of notes i get on my fics. i write the ideas because i want to write them. that's been my rule and once i got the sense i was writing for the blog and not writing cuz i wanted to, i realized i needed to step away from it.

so going forward, the only time this blog will be updated is if i got a story idea that naturally and organically was planned as a fic in my head. this could mean no more hwa fics ever again. it could mean fics about random video game characters. it could mean more star wars fics. or it could mean i don't update for a really long time. i don't know what form it will take. i'm not really focusing on that.

while this blog was my primary focus, i met a lot of amazing people and ended up meeting people that now mean so much to me. i had tons of nice messages sent to me. i never thought i'd get 3k followers here and that wasn't my goal, it just ended up happening.

if you read all this, thanks, and thank you to everyone who took the time to read anything i posted, it means a lot. i'll be at the toronto ateez show if anyone wants to say hi.

my main blog is @hologramhoneymoon - you can follow me there for a lot of random reblogs from a lot of random things.

#announcement #in my jerma retirement era

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randomfoggytiger · 5 days

Note

do you happen to have any fic recs where Scully is the one to initiate msr’s first kiss? I see a lot of the opposite but scully should get to do it

Oh, yes, a ton.

Here are a few I haven't reread in a while. *ahem*

Loose chronological order below~

Little_Pumpkin_Bagel's Vive Ut Vivas

I swallow hard. Assuming by the way she’s looking at me, I’m mostly sure that whatever she’s up to will throw caution out of limits for the sake of both of us. – “And what would that be, Scully?”

She doesn’t answer me. Instead, she holds my collar and pulls me down....

Post One Breath Mulder can't quite conceal his true feelings, which leaves Scully an opening.

trustmescully's Intoxicating Darkness

"I love you too, Scully," he smiles and his eyes shine with his mouth.

S2 Mulder, depressed and suicidal, is stopped from further considerations when Scully chases after him in the freezing rain.

@danadeservesadrink/Samwritess's

Collapse (Tumblr)

But he needed her to know like she needed him to know, and there was no pretending any more.

“I know” she whispered, so quiet it was almost in her head. He nodded silently and pressed his forehead to hers, their eyes closing, hands falling intertwined again between them.

Post Pusher Scully supports Mulder until his defeat breaks her walls.

Justin Glasser's (xphilefic) Lonely Nightmare

She brushed her knuckles over his cheek. "When are you going to start listening to me?"

Mulder felt his mouth twitch into a smile. "Scully," he said. His voice sounded like it was rubbed over sandpaper. Screaming, he thought. That's from when I was screaming.

"What, Mulder?" She was rubbing his shoulders now, trying to work the blood back into them. He was alive, so she was playing Doctor Scully, all business, rubbing their relationship back to normal as quickly as possible. Mulder wasn't sure he wanted it back to normal so quickly. Mulder wasn't sure he could handle normal right away.

"If you kiss me again, I promise not to shout."

Post Never Again Mulder and Scully slowly bridge the distance between them during an intense case of missing teens and bonfires.

@mollybecameanengineer/Sareki's My Beloved (Tumblr)

He started to rise, to apologize and leave the room, but she stopped him. “What things?” she whispered.

Her face was open, her eyes bright. She knew what he was going to say, and it didn’t look like she was afraid of it.

Post Kaddish Mulder can't sleep, slipping into Scully's motel room for a late-night conversation.

@tatooedlaura-blog/tatooedlaura/Laura Sprys's

Max 2.0

Once her forehead touched his, she whispered, “you are not Max. You have so many people here who love you and need you and you have so much to offer them back and you do. That’s the difference between you and Max. He searched for himself. You search for me, Mulder. You search,” kissing his forehead, then quickly his mouth, “for me.”

Post Max Mulder drives Scully out of the city where they stargaze while she tries to reassure and motivate him to keep fighting.

The Warmest Thing I Own

He saw her suddenly blink, head shake, both signs she was just waking up, “what? Mulder?”

Knowing she didn’t recall anything because there was no embarrassment turning her red, no heat in her cheeks, eyes innocently confused, “nothing...."

Cancer arc Mulder and Scully skip work, spending the day together as he prepares the best gourmet steak and mushrooms he can for her. (The sequels Fancy Paper Napkins, End of the Road, and Post Moments are excellent reads, too.)

Miles to Go

"Mulder ..."

"Yeah?"

"Smile."

The camera flashed in his face, "I think this one should be labeled 'Before'."

Mulder gulped down the last of his hot dog, "before what?"

"Before I kissed you."

Post FTF Mulder and Scully take the remains of their burnt office home, falling asleep and waking to a storm outside. Scully bucks the expected in a few unexpected ways.

206 Bones

Chocking up her growing feeling of dread to exhaustion, anger and lack of any type of proper vitamin or mineral, she helped her partner search, track and eventually corner Parsons in an abandoned building fifteen minutes away, half demolished and dangerous to any and all who set foot inside.

Only seconds before getting the final word to take the building, Scully’s fear got the better of her and she turned Mulder to face her, pulling him down to her....

Scully gives Mulder a good luck kiss before they attempt to flush their suspect from a rotten building... and ends up the one worse for wear.

Anne Haynes's (xf-redux.com)

Sonnet

The kiss was sweet. Simple. Breathtaking.

Redux II Mulder is afraid Scully is dying, at last, only for his world to be turned right-side up in a multitude of ways.

Package Deal (txt)

But she ran her thumb beneath his chin, tipping his head up, forcing him to meet her gaze. Her eyes spoke a thousand sweet promises and then there was no more hesitation, no lingering gaze, no more silent questions passed back and forth between them.

Post FTF Scully is overjoyed: she and Mulder are still partnered, their story was believed, and the files are getting expanded. So overjoyed, in fact, she moves their relationship to the next level.

nabokoves's Unwritten Hymns

She mumbled his name into his shoulder, foggy with confusion. She wanted to know if he was okay. He pulled back to look at her, struggling to find something to say. He brimmed with words so corny they would make even the poets puke.

Post Redux II Mulder may hate God-- chalking up Scully's remission to science instead of his angry prayers-- but but he in no way hates God's believer, Scully.

@nowwhateinstein's (Ao3) Fic: Seeking Warmth/Seeking Warmth

I look at him. He’s regarding me with a gaze that is both familiar and thrilling. Tenderness and desire are present in his eyes. It’s the same look, I realize, he had moments before he went to kiss me in the hallway outside his apartment - a moment that seems like a lifetime ago. Then, I found myself hesitating, afraid to reciprocate his acknowledgement of a truth we’d both known. Now, however, in light of everything that’s happened in the past week, it seems like the most natural thing in the world to lean over and kiss him.

Post FTF Scully picks up where she and Mulder left off, despite her slowly recovering body and patched-up snowsuit.

@ghostbustermelanieking/skuls's ice crystals (Ao3)

He pulls her hand up and kisses the back of it in relief. Her forehead furrows and she pulls her hand out of his. Something inside him thunks.

But the next thing he knows, she is leaning across the space between them and cupping her face in his.

Post Tithonus Mulder and Scully flesh out their frustrations and feelings as they (almost) freeze to death.

@purrykat/mylifeinshadow's

How about M&S in Boston

She joins you next to the desk, a murmured noise of acknowledgment at the ‘CANCELLED’ notice that appears next to your flight number. You brace yourself for thinly veiled frustration, but when you risk a glance, there’s a funny little twinkle in her eye instead. You’re instantly taken back to the week prior—

Post IVF Mulder mulls over the brief kiss Scully gave him after the procedure failed.

Sending you number 20 for the kiss prompts.

I think it’s safe to say that it’s not Skinner that I’m interested in.”

And there it is. You’ve been steadily climbing toward this moment for the better part of the month, neither willing to take that final leap. It’s as if the absence of height difference gives her a burst of confidence, even as it turns you into a fumbling idiot.

Mulder, very late for a meeting with Skinner, is intercepted on the stairway by Scully.

effywho's Astra Inclinant

"I say...I say we stop talking." Scully replies.

It's his turn to look down, crumbling. "Sure, I understand."

He feels her breath on his hair as she leans closer. "I'm not sure you do."

Post IVF Mulder is shocked by not only their success but also Scully's follow up after his declaration.

EvanBlack's WHITEOUT

'You have a beautiful face Mulder.'

...There was an awkward silence, then he shifted and propped his cheek on his hand.

'That's the Evening Blush talking Scully.' He smiled with his lips, but she could see his eyes were serious - and nervous.

His nerves gave her sudden courage.

A plane crashes Mulder and Scully in the snowy mountains; and their petty squabbles become small in comparison to starvation, necessary cannibalism, and the increasing odds of death.

Xequinn's (Ao3) Playing Hookie

“Yeah let's do this” “On a count of three” she says” “One,” he responds On “Two” they adjust suddenly sweaty hands “Three!” Scully leaps off, pulling Mulder behind her

Scully has fun dragging Mulder around on her slightly manic beachside adventures.

The Trouble with Expectations - Chapter 1 (Tumblr)

“Scully of course I showed. Why did you think I hadn’t?” She didn’t answer. Just let more tears fall. He grabbed for her hand again, and she let him. “Scully I’ll always come get you”

She didn’t answer. Just lunged forward and grabbed his face and kissed him as hard as she could.

Scully, assuming Mulder forgot to pick her up from the airport, is heartbroken... until Mulder wanders over from the bathroom.

@this-is-surely-tru/yours_truly's If the Fates Allow

“Tactile evidence only increases the anticipation, Mulder. It doesn’t diminish it.”

The slightly concussed look on her partner’s face was undeniably adorable, and he shook his head slightly as if to clear it while they both relaxed again into the carriage seat. “Far be it from me to argue with that, Scully.”

Mulder, stuck in New York for Christmas, surprises his partner with a rented carriage ride; and she, in turn, surprises him as well.

@alabama-metal-man's Unnamed

She pulls back, runs her hand along his cheek, and turns away to take a long drag of her coffee. She closes her eyes, sighing contentedly.

“What was that for?” She can hear the hint of teasing, the lingering smile.

Scully is having a rotten morning until Mulder remembers her coffee order.

@admiralty-xfd/admiralty's Up in your arms - Chapter 1

He stared at her with a look she couldn’t figure out, but it wasn’t a look that said don’t. It was the furthest thing from that look she could discern. So she leaned into him, all the way in, and she felt him inhale ever so slightly as she took the biggest risk of her life.

Post Closure Mulder contemplates his new life. Scully answers at least one question for him.

And just for fun, I grabbed a few of my baronessblixen rereads:

@baronessblixen‘s (Ao3)

Temporary Insanity (Ao3)

How many times has she cheated death this year? Two times? Three? She’s come so close that she’s stopped counting. Every time, she just picked herself up, bought a new blouse if it was torn or bloody, threw away shoes that weren’t as lucky as she was, and calmed herself down when a nightmare tried to take her under. She’s done. She feels it in her fingertips. She feels it like a current running through her body. She needs something. Something to make her feel alive.

Paper Clip Scully is spurned by her anger into more-than-professional overtures.

The Day After (Ao3)

“Kiss and make up?” Mulder says with a grin, biting his bottom lip. He at least has to try. Scully stares at him for a moment, the way she sometimes does before she tells him how crazy he is. He knows that look. But this time it’s different.

Wetwired Mulder and Scully's discussion leads to decisive action on her part.

Never Cold With You By My Side

Feeling bold, she lets her hand wander behind his neck to play with the hair there. If he doesn’t want this – her – he can stop her before this even starts. But he doesn’t. So she pulls him to her, pressing her lips to his.

One Son Mulder and Scully spend the night locked up in Fort Marlene while she is hurt, jealous, and angry.

Dreams Are Made of This

Scully gets on her tiptoes and kisses Mulder. On the lips, just like that. Just like she’s been thinking about. It’s a quick kiss, but thorough. Like you’d kiss your husband. The person you love. All those thoughts fly through her head as she steps out the door. She stops there, realizing what she just did.

Scully, in the midst of a hopeful IVF daydream, accidentally kisses Mulder.

Five Minutes - Chapter 2 (Tumblr)

He returns with them, one in each hand, and when Scully reaches out to take hers, he shakes his head. Seeing him like this, her knight in crinkled Armani, his hands full, she can’t wait another second. She gets on tiptoes, careful not to topple over, and presses her lips to his. He tastes like coffee and the chocolate chip cookie they shared on the plane. They’ve waited long enough for this.

“We have?” Mulder, his eyes glazed over, grinning stupidly, sounds amused.

Will never not include this post IVF success story.

Candlelight Moments With You

You look like you're gonna faint. Eat something." She holds a chip up to his mouth and he accepts it, his lips closing over her finger. He can't tell what flavor the chips are, but he knows he wants more.

"More?" he asks in a whisper. She smiles at him and nods. But he doesn't get another chip. Instead, he gets a kiss.

Mulder tries to give Scully a good enough Christmas while both are practically stranded in a motel.

#asks #anon #Scully initiates the first move #Collector's Edition #Scully Makin' Moves #Part I #anyone interested in a part ii?#txf #fic

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toxicpineapple · 7 months

Text

writing tips masterpost

hello to my loyal tumblr followers... i am often asked to give writing advice but usually when people ask me this i'm nooooot completely sure what to say despite having a ton of advice to give. it's such a broad question when there are so many different things i can advise on, right? so i thought i'd make a sort of writing advice masterpost where i can compile the tips that i think people specifically in fandoms could benefit the most from hearing, OR that i wish someone had told me when i was still finding my footing as a writer.

hopefully this will be helpful to you. i am putting all of the advice under a read more since this is going to be a long one. let's roll!

✬ paragraph breaks are your friend

the fastest way to get me to stop reading a fic is if i click in and see that there are NO paragraphs made and the entire piece is in a huge block of text. no matter how good your work is, i just can't read it at that point. the giant paragraph makes me get lost, i can't focus on anything... it's a huge no.

the trick is you want your paragraphs to sort of act as a guide for your reader, taking them through the story, keeping them engaged. do not be afraid to do short paragraphs! i can understand wanting to shy away from one or two sentence paragraphs for fear of not having "enough substance" in your work, but the truth is, a thousand short paragraphs is ten times easier to read than a huge block of text.

realistically, you want to have a good amount of variety in your paragraph length. variety is key. readers will notice when your work gets formulaic, and some people will like that, but for others that can turn people away from your work. but don't force it! a paragraph should end at the end of a statement, or if the paragraph is getting too long then cut off the thought and continue in the next paragraph with a transitional phrase.

as a general rule of thumb, you want lines of dialogue by different speakers to be put in separate paragraphs. you also want to avoid doing huge chunks of narration or exposition in the same paragraph as you introduce a new speaker. just make a new paragraph! no big deal. i guarantee you your reader will be way more engaged and nobody is going to come at you for doing more rather than less.

✬ make sure the reader knows who is speaking and when

you don't have to end off every line of dialogue with "she said" and in fact i would really recommend you don't. but you ALWAYS need to have some kind of indication in the text as to who is speaking, otherwise the reader can get lost.

this doesn't necessarily mean that you always have to explicitly say who is saying what, though. if it is obvious in a scene who is saying something -- so for example, a scene where there are only two characters talking OR the dialogue has some kind of phrase, statement, etc that makes it obvious who the speaker is -- then in that case you can just let the dialogue speak for itself. sometimes in writing less can be more. you disrupt the flow of a scene if you start to exposit unnecessarily when the reader could reasonably work something out for themself.

✬ "said" is your friend too

related to the last piece of advice, here's another note: don't shy away from using the word "said".

don't overuse it, either. obviously, you don't want every single line to be "he says" "she says" back and forth, especially when they might be asking questions or shouting, in which case the word "said" probably isn't all that applicable at all. but it's a nice default. if you catch yourself busting out the thesaurus, my recommendation? quit it. just use said. it's not going to hurt you and the reader isn't going to mind.

but yeah, in the event that a character is raising their voice, whispering, inquiring -- there are tons of other words you can use in lieu of said and then an adverb. it's just context-dependent, and also, you don't really want to lean too far one way or another. like i said, variety is key. too much of the same breaks immersion.

✬ if you wouldn't say it yourself, probably don't use it in writing

another related tip. look, i get it. you want to spruce up your writing with synonyms. but the fact of the matter is that a lot of these words that "mean the same thing" on paper actually have wildly differing connotations and if you don't understand what those are you're going to look kind of silly whipping out a word you just found off the internet. we can usually tell, too.

your vocabulary will naturally grow and expand as you continue to read and learn. you don't have to try and force it to seem smarter in your writing. people who can write compelling prose and dialogue without throwing in fancy words they barely understand look a lot more intelligent than people who have a thesaurus at the ready 24/7.

✬ if there's a simpler way to say it, take it

this one can be sort of style-dependent, so if it's not your cup of tea then feel free to take or leave this tip, but in my opinion, taking a whole seven-line paragraph to describe a simple action wastes both your and the readers' time.

how many times have you read a fic where the main characters are having a conversation with these long rambling paragraphs between lines of dialogue? sometimes this makes sense! if you were writing a death note fic it would absolutely make sense for light or L to be pausing every few seconds to carefully analyse their opponent's move... but that's not always the case. sometimes characters are just making small talk.

i'm not saying you can't show off. you should show off where applicable. but there's a time and place. sometimes a scene benefits more from you taking the easy way to describe something and moving on. flowery language is great, but if you're meandering too much the reader will lose interest and attention.

✬ a metaphor is useless if nobody knows what it means

writing is subjective and highly personal. write for yourself first and foremost, and use the metaphors that feel right to you -- but the best metaphorical pieces, to me, are the ones that people can understand and identify with.

you've read a story like that, haven't you? with a reoccurring theme or motif that comes back into play at the end in a way that makes you feel so satisfied and complete? THAT'S what you aim for with literary devices like that. if you write a story that nobody can understand, with metaphors that just don't make any sense -- then you haven't really successfully told a good story, have you?

i understand wanting to have a magnum opus. i think it's easy to fall into the "misunderstood writer" mindset where you want your pieces to be so magnificent that only the likeminded will get it -- but writing is a form of communication. metaphor is just another means with which we can illustrate how we feel. you WANT your readers to understand what you're doing with the metaphors, you WANT the people who step away from your story to know what you were trying to say. you don't have to be obvious, just make it good. make it something that can be reasonably drawn from the text.

at the end of the day flowery language is just flowery language. that doesn't actually make your story good.

✬ grammar intermission

(.) period/full stop: used at the end of sentences. oftentimes not used at the end of sentences in dialogue, because lines of dialogue are considered a fragment of a larger sentence. use a period/full stop at the end of a line of dialogue if the dialogue is followed up by another complete sentence. example:

"i just went to the store," he said, scratching his head.

"i just went to the store." he scratched his head.

(,) comma: used in the middle or to separate different clauses (parts/sections) of sentences. used for incomplete clauses, AKA sections of the sentence that could not function as individual sentences. also used to indicate a slight pause. example:

she reached for the ripest banana, plucking it from the bunch.

a comma can also be replaced by a conjunction like "and" or "but". example:

she reached for the ripest banana and plucked it from the bunch.

(;) semi colon: used to separate different complete clauses in sentences, AKA sections of the sentence that are related but COULD function individually as their own sentences. example:

he sighed as he looked out the window; it had been so long since he stepped outside.

not to be confused with

(:) colon: used at the end of a line that leads into or introduces another line. example:

his fingers drummed restlessly against the window sill. it was finally happening: he was finally leaving this place.

(-) hyphen: used to connect compound words like three-years-old or hyphenated surnames like jones-smith.

(–) en dash: used to indicate ranges of time or distance, like 3–4 hours.

(—) em dash: a girl's best friend. slash j. but an em dash is used to indicate a few different things: an abrupt end to a thought or sentence, a "cut-in" where you interject something tangentially or unrelated before returning to the original thought, or a diversion in the sentence/thought. examples:

"no, listen, you don't understand—"

he scowled—an ugly look on his usually handsome features—and told her to be quiet.

it's not like she had wanted it to go that way—but when had it ever mattered what she wanted?

(()) parentheses: used to add additional context, information, or a semi-unrelated thought that would break the flow of an ongoing sentence without completely taking the reader out. example:

"no, i'm sorry. i just forgot to call you this morning," he said, looking away. (in truth, he'd sat by the phone for fifteen minutes trying to psyche himself into it, but hadn't been able to muster the courage.)

✬ show don't tell, and tell don't show

show don't tell is one of the classic pieces of writing advice that i do, often, think is correct -- but it's a little more nuanced than just never telling your readers what a character is thinking. you want the work to speak for itself without you implanting messages or themes into the reader's brain. at the same time though you don't want them to be doing too much work because it breaks immersion.

this ties into what i was saying above about simpler being better sometimes. you want to be concise especially in scenes that might call for it. a fight scene should be quick and snappy. no need to dig into the physical sensation of being enraged -- just say the character is pissed! but if a character is having a meltdown or panicking, you can get SO much more out of describing how that feels than just outright saying it.

✬ remember your perspective

another huge thing with show don't tell is that you don't want your character to be able to objectively say what everyone else is thinking and feeling -- unless that makes sense for them within the context of the story. really dig into it. DOES the character have a reason to know what their opponents, friends, etc are thinking? how well do they know the other characters? how attentive are they to the emotions of those around them?

it's better to focus on descriptions than labels in that case. say what face a character is making, describe their body language or tone. your character can have impressions, just make it clear that those ARE their impressions. and let your character be wrong! they do not have to be a completely objective source of information.

✬ when it comes to representation, if you aren't confident you can do it well, don't do it at all

i'm one of those people who's kind of of the opinion that white or cishet or otherwise systemically advantaged people have no place being the loudest voices in conversations about representation, least of all AS the representatives. if you are someone with systemic privilege and you choose to portray someone who is oppressed -- that's not necessarily a bad thing. but you need to be willing to do your research and have a sensitivity reader, and you have to be ready for people to say you did it wrong.

not much else to be said about that. your voice on the matter isn't actually all that important. there are people from the demographics involved who DO have stories to tell about themselves that will be MUCH more valuable than your perception of them, so it's honestly better to just let them tell it. that's how i feel.

✬ don't break the rules unless you know how to follow them. in other words, your rebellion should be obvious

a lot of times i see people breaking grammar or other rules and citing "stylistic" choices as their reasons why. which is all good and well, to an extent -- but you want it to be very clear that you ARE breaking the rules on purpose in a way that adds to the artistic merit of your piece.

if you don't know the rules, then it really just comes across like messy work. you both have to know how to apply the rules, and also how to break them in a stylistically significant way. if it doesn't make sense for the rules to be broken, if it says nothing... it's honestly better to just follow them. that's my take.

✬ don't be scared of names and pronouns

i said before that you want variety in your work, and that is very very true -- but it's also true that certain words like names, pronouns, etc will sort of blend into the background in writing. people don't notice them. that means if you're using a name or pronoun a lot in a scene to make it clear who exactly is being referred to...

hey. look into my eyes. breathe. it's okay. you do not have to resort to highlighting arbitrary characteristics of the characters. i know. just breathe. it's okay. use their names. they have them for a reason. it's all good.

this isn't to say that you SHOULDN'T do that, just do it when it makes sense to. if height is something the characters are noticing then use "the shorter boy". if age is relevant, eye colour, hair colour, whatever -- go ahead and use them. but don't be excessive with it. i should not be having to read the bluenette more than i'm reading shuichi's actual goddamn name.

✬ read

this is the huge one. reading other works informs your writing. it teaches you skills and tricks you can use. it helps expand your dialogue and your world view. it might even highlight to you things you do too much of in your own writing. read, all the time, whenever you can. it doesn't have to be books. it can be fanfic, articles, whatever -- just keep reading, because you will be passively absorbing knowledge during that time and it'll help you grow as a writer.

✬ practice

BOOOOOO TOMATO TOMATO TOMATO! SHE SAID THE THING SHE SAID IT!

but listen, it's literally just true. i write almost every day for at least a couple of hours and i have been on a trend of consistent growth for the past five years. go read my fics from 2019 if you don't believe me. i've grown fast and i've grown constantly. you just DO grow through constant practice, even if it doesn't always seem that way.

not only that, but you start to build confidence too. writing a lot helps develop those muscles to a point where you start to realise that you ARE that good and you DO have that dawg in you. or whatever. you just have to keep at it. you're not going to magically improve thinking for six months about how you want to be a better writer without practicing anything about it.

✬ yeah, betas are good

you want to have a good editor. i know that that can feel like having someone ELSE be the reason your piece is good, but that's genuinely not it. a beta reader is a second pair of eyes on your work, someone who can tell you about the issues and mistakes you're missing. they'll tell you when something doesn't make sense. they'll point out your punctuation errors. you don't NEED to have a good editor for every crummy little oneshot... but it's good to have one.

✬ numbers are fine and all but don't compare yourself to other people

i think almost everyone in some kind of creative pursuit wants to get some kind of acknowledgement for it. we want to be the best we can be, and it can be discouraging to receive utterly no validation along the way! i get it!!

just don't get caught up in crunching the numbers. you are not as good as your fanbase is. you alone know your skillset and you absolutely should not say "well this other writer got THIS much attention" because that'll just wear you down. it really will. external validation will only keep you going for so long, and you'll always end up needing more. you HAVE to build your own personal confidence first or you'll crash and burn.

✬ read your writing out loud

there is no quicker way to see if something is wonky in your prose than reading it out loud and seeing if it makes sense verbally. i highly recommend this to anybody who struggles with sentence flow. it's a good one.

✬ yippee hooray!

🥰 and that's what i've got for now. thank you if you made it this far, please take all these tips as you will, it is all subjective of course, these are just the tips that help Me the most when i sit down to write something.

please feel free to ask me for additional advice (on specific topics if you could!) at any time, i love encouraging new writers and i am passionate about writing so i will gladly offer support in any way i can, including beta reading works for anybody who might need that.

take care now 💖

#writing #writing advice #writing tips #fanfiction tips

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thetriumphantpanda · 1 year

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Are you ready for my dirty request?! I couldn’t stop thinking about that mirror fic you wrote I wanna request a part ii for it.

Imagine this, reader and Javi P have been going at it all night, they’re hot and sweaty.

Javi P has reader sitting between his legs and they are seated on the edge of the bed, mirror across them while he fingers her. He loves seeing how fucked out she is and how his fingers disappear in her. He wants her hands placed on his thighs but she keeps reaching for his hands to stop him because she’s overstimulated so he tells her “You keep your hands where they are or i’ll tie them up”. Maybe he makes her ride him after since he couldn’t get enough of her moans and loves it when he gives her tons of orgasms. Neck kisses and whispering dirty things to her

Please I need your writing magic, Charlie!

I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE ANON BUT GOD BLESS YOU FOR THIS. I saw this whilst I was working yesterday and let me tell you I have thought of NOTHING ELSE SINCE. So here you go, I hope I worked my magic for you!

Pairing | Javier Peña x Female Reader

Word Count | 1.2K

Warnings | Pure smut below the cut. Fingering, squirting, overstimulation, unprotected PiV sex, dirty talking, THE RETURN OF THE MIRROR.

This is written as a companion piece to this one-shot but you don't have to read it to understand what this is. Because let's be honest this is porn without plot.

Main Masterlist

You would say that you’re not sure how you got to the position you’re currently in, sat between Javier’s thighs with his cock pressed against your back as his fingers disappear inside of you, but that would be entirely untrue. You knew exactly how you’d got here.

It had been a week since Javier had insisted on dragging you with shaking legs in front of his mirror and thoroughly fucking you and since then he’d become obsessed with it. Obsessed with how you thrived on watching yourself when he was eating your pussy, thrived on the throaty giggles you let you when he took you from behind and wrapped a hand around your throat for good measure. Tonight, he was obsessed with the intensity of your eyes on his in the mirror as his fingers disappeared into your soaking pussy, his other hand splayed across your tummy to keep you in place.

There’s sweat dripping off you, the Colombian heat is stifling, even with the window open to let in a breeze. You mentally apologise to anyone walking the street below or anyone in the adjoining apartments for the noise they’ve clearly heard Javi pulling from you for hours. Your back is pressed so tightly against him that you can’t move, no matter how much you want to squirm away because it’s too much. You’ve lost count of how many orgasms he’s pulled out of you tonight and it hurts. But there’s something about the way white spots burst behind your closed eyes in the moment before you come undone that’s addictive, you don’t want him to stop, not really.

The edge of Javi’s bed is digging into the back of your thighs, and if it wasn’t for his hand on your abdomen, you’d crumple off the edge into a heap. His breath is hot on your ear as he presses wet kisses behind it, and you can feel small beads of his pre-cum mixing with the sweat pooling at your lower back. His hand drops slowly, and he starts to circle your clit.

“Fuck, Javi,” You mewl, “I can’t, I can’t anymore, it’s… fuck… it’s too much.”

Your hand moves to his on your clit to try and push it away, his teeth sink into the skin of your shoulder, harder than usual, enough that a hiss of pain drops from your lips, “You want me to stop, hermosa?” He asks in a growl, “Because I think you can, I think you can give me another.”

Your hands are still scrabbling to try and pull his from your pussy, “Go on, let me try,” His whispers, pricking goosebumps on your skin, “Hands on my thighs, promise I’ll make you feel good.”

You decide to let him try, placing each of your hands on his thighs, digging your nails into the skin as you watch his fingers disappear into your pussy in the mirror and his middle finger rubs light circles around your clit. You wait as long as you can bare it, but it really is too much, your hands are moving again to try and get away from him.

“You keep your hands where they are, or I’ll tie them up.”

You know it’s not an empty threat. Your mind wanders to the time, a few months back, where he’d handcuffed you to the headboard and spent an hour between your legs, pulling four orgasms from you with his mouth. Whilst it had been thrilling, there’s no way you could do that tonight. You do as you’re told and put your hands back on his thighs. You tip your head onto his shoulder and close your eyes, but he’s pushes you forward with his shoulder.

“Eyes on the mirror, querida, look at me whilst I fuck your pussy with my fingers.”

Your eyes meet his own in the glass and you swear it brings you closer to the edge. His brow is furrowed but there’s an almost sadistic smirk across his lips and a darkness to his eyes that you’re used to now, it’s the look he gives you when he knows he’s pushing you, pushing his luck, but he just can’t ever get enough of what you sound like screaming his name and arching into him, or away from him depending on the position, when he makes you cum.

“You like it, don’t you, mi pequeño diablo,” His fingers curl inside you and the finger on your clit presses harder, rubs faster, “You like it when it hurts, when I push you?”

“Yes… ohmygod,” You moan and push yourself further down onto his fingers, “You know I love it.”

He chuckles behind you, “I just like hearing you say it,” He lets out a moan of his own when you grind in a particular way against him that has you brushing up against his cock, “I can feel you getting tight, you’re going to cum aren’t you?”

You nod your head and close your eyes; this time he lets you keep them firmly closed as he continues what he’s doing. You can feel it in your lower belly, and you clench down, his name is falling from your lips a mile a minute, javijavijavi, and then it’s crashing into you. His fingers are working you through the aftershocks and he’s laughing, he’s actually laughing at you.

“I can’t Javi, it’s too much,” He speaks into your ear, mocking your words from earlier, “Look down and see what you did, chica preciosa.”

You open your eyes and look down, and low and behold, his hand is soaked, and you can see the carpet between your feet darkening, did you? Did you just squirt?!

“You’ve gotta have a little faith in yourself.” He whispers into your ear.

He’s gathering his arms around your waist and pulling you back onto the bed. He’s led himself down and turned you around, although you’re not quite sure how, your brain understandably focusing on nothing else but the truly fucked out feeling he’s caused.

“Sink down onto my cock, hermosa.”

He’s filthy and you fucking love it. Your legs are jelly and you’re not quite sure you have the power to last long like this, but you do as you’re told, throwing your head back as he sinks into you for the third time that night, filling you up perfectly.

His hands are on your hips, gripping hard enough that you’re sure there will be bruises in the shape of his thumbs there tomorrow. He’s guiding your hips to grind on his cock and although you’re sore, the friction is delicious. He’s groaning your name, thrusting up into your every now and again. You know he’s not going to last much longer, and neither are you. There’s a burning in your thighs that’s threatening to cramp, and your chest is tight from lack of air.

“Fucking hell, querida, keep going, you’re gonna make me cum.”

You smirk down at him, picking up the pace with the grinding of your hips, your hands coming up to your tits to massage them. You pull at your nipples, mewling at the sensation and with moment it’s all over. Javi is sat upright, arms wrapped around your back with his head buried in your chest as you feel him spill inside of you, cum painting every inch of your walls. He’s breathing your name and kissing any inch of skin he can reach with his mouth until he’s falling back with you, wrapping you up in his arms.

“I think we need to get rid of the mirror.” You mumble, exhaustion settling into your bones.

“You don’t mean that, querida, I know you love it just as much as I do.”

#Pedro Pascal #Javier Peña #Javier Peña smut #Javier Peña fic #Javier Peña fanfic #Javier Peña fan fiction #Javier Peña x you #Javier Peña x reader #Javier Peña x female reader #Javier Peña x f!reader #narcos fic #narcos smut #Javier Peña Pedro Pascal #jp drabbles

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