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anantaru · 2 years ago

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4 RULES TO SURVIVE A DIVORCE (GONE WRONG)

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — deciding to end your marriage with neuvillette might've been the hardest decision you've ever had to make in your life, although now, navigating through the divorce was becoming even more difficult, especially when you suddenly fail to stick to four simple rules you have both set between each other.

— ꒰ word count ꒱ — 7.8k

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — [ns]fw, fem! reader, ex! husband neuvillette, divorced couple goals lmao, fluff & crack, p with plot, lovers to strangers to lovers, size kink/size difference, rough sex, unprotected sex, unresolved tension and lots of bickering, sassy comments from the both of you, it's very much giving married old couple, office sex, cumming inside

RULE NUMBER 1: KEEP YOUR DISTANCE AT ALL TIMES

by the sixth day of waking up to an empty bed— with the left side untouched and consisting of nothing but a feeble scent of vacant perfume, neuvillette has decided that he's had enough.

which wasn't to say that he's had enough of sleep, even though that's certainly a potent route to take, yet the neuvillette the people of fontaine knew was only the one they believed they knew.

in this agonizing moment in time, he wasn't sure on how long he could act out this picture-perfect facade for the sake of his people.

they thought he was brilliant, attractive, chocolate-box pretty.

a radiant, enigmatic dragon that was quite the sight to behold, his smile reminding the flowers of spring-time to blossom to their original beauty— awakening their way of life— ah well, such lovely things to ruminate on, or when they decide to appreciate his delicateness, how uniquely he viewed the world and how otherworldly soft he chose to explore it.

in a true sense, the alluring stories the people of fontaine told each other got one single piece about him right; that neuvillette was very handsome and soft to someone's eyes.

with all ones heart, the man unquestionably had enough of the irrefutable coldness wearing down on his shoulders, sitting there alone in an empty bedroom that was previously essential to his well being, with misery written all over his face and bursting at the seams of his mental health, just enough for him to stop talking all at once.

the cold bedspread was rough against his naked body, the mattress too soft to rest on and giving in beneath his weight. wholly crestfallen did neuvillette realize that sadly, the only way to return to the life he's lived a couple months ago, return to where he should be, was to somehow learn on how to travel back in time and make things right.

which from the bottom of his heart, was impossible.

it was confusing, he has to admit, because the only factor he found somewhat common now was on how empty the bedroom was— besides his own belongings, which weren't a lot in the first place, everything else was taken by you weeks ago, beloved items that were brimful of memories stacked in cold boxes and delivered to your new home.

a predictable event, he knows, and how embarrassingly predictable it had gotten that neuvillette found himself in teething trouble, precisely the issue of his sleep schedule in this bed— one you had bought together, shared together every single day, one you had made love to each other every single night.

a slump of mindless memories waft through his psyche, resembling a wicket current of catastrophes as he ultimately came to the conclusion that the reason he was unable to sleep must be because of you— his serious issues on being unable to rest, it has to be because of you.

neuvillette's thoughts and judgments were all scattered, rummaging through the vortex of problems he had endured through the weeks, a matter much more pressing than all of the other issues put together— he continuously waits and aches, hopes and dreams, and before he notices he's slowly healing, it all comes crashing down on him again.

a recollection long gone relives itself in his mind's eye, and his previous gaze gets overturned by a new, haunting stare.

this is why he had bought the bed in the first place, he remembers it vividly now, it's because you fell in love with it right away, you liked the way it felt underneath your body, heedless of how he personally never really found it comfortable.

concealed from everyone's eyes, neuvillette was deeply saddened, but he hadn't given his mental health much thought yet, because how do you even process that your wife has left you?

how do you tell anybody that you failed as a husband?

and it's raining again? what a hassle, although now he's acquired another way to fault himself on, most importantly hurt himself, because no one deserved the bad weather other than he himself did.

for the first time after gaining the position of the iudex of fontaine, neuvillette did not want to go to work. what if someone begins to ask too many invasive questions when he visits the palais mermonia today?

if that's the immediate case that was going to happen, he begins to think about it more clearly— a person asking about his private life was definitely trespassing his boundaries, right? he could immediately do something about it and put them on trial.

by that logic of his, neuvillette cannot fathom how humiliating it was, his face clouds with a mixture of desperation and disappointment in himself, because he can already imagine the hot off the press headlines on the cover of the steambird;

ATTENTION! ATTENTION!

IUDEX OF FONTAINE LEFT STRANDED BY FORMER WIFE! ARE YOU WONDERING WHY WE THINK THIS MARRIAGE WAS DOOMED TO FAIL FROM THE START? GO FIND OUT IN THE NEW ISSUE OF THE STEAMBIRD. ©this article was written and published by journalist charlotte, do not plagiarize under any circumstances

up to the minute he was able to calm himself down, until imagining the wildfire of emotions an article like that would cause in fontaine.

all the unpleasant hours of arguing with you, even attempting to understand each other without actually coming to a conclusion on how to navigate a situation like that. aside from wanting to keep it all hidden from the outside world, leave it concealed and let the people of fontaine forget about the fact that you two had been married in the first place.

who cares, right? who gives a damn if it's husband or ex husband now? what even was the difference between a wife and an ex wife, you see that it's all the same?

ugh, who was he fooling besides himself.

the whole 'ex-wife' was aggravating him to the point where it made him physically sick.

why can't he just flip a switch and everything goes back to normal like it never happened in the first place. neuvillette wanted his normal life back, the normal life he thought you both loved and would continue to live on until your dying days.

in the end, neuvillette saw no other route around it other than to quit using it all together, maybe stop talking about you entirely.

by all means, it's not like he will talk to anybody about the divorce, maybe besides you when he has to mention it. granted that he might not talk to you about it either, because he wasn't allowed to see you right now, neither were you allowed to see him.

on how it came to that point was genuinely understandable.

after the divorce was finalized, new adjustments had to be made regarding your previous living situations, shared income and the future possibility of seeing each other.

as was anticipated, before he was able to say anything or make suggestions, you had already started to list out a couple of "important rules" that you made up, you called them rules but in the iudex mind he called them pesky little regulations.

regardless of his distaste for them, he wrote them down on a piece of paper as to not aggravate you.

well, he found it a bit bizarre, but neuvillette thought it must be a serious requirement at this point. it was his first divorce so how was he supposed to know how to navigate through one? it wasn't supposed to be easy, that's what he knew, it's very heart breaking and draining his life force.

although funnily enough, his overwhelm strengthens after you waltzed over the fourth rule of the day. that's one rule too much in his opinion.

just how many were there?

"i can't think of a better solution," you state whilst leaning your body against his desk, always facing the ground, you wouldn't want to lock gazes with him during such difficult time.

"we may even be able to talk again in the future, you know,"

but did you really want to?

it's safe to say that neuvillette would want to keep in contact, but it's certain that this would not only stress you both out in the long run, possible new partners could also get weirded out by the fact that you two were still talking and they may become jealous.

neuvillette stifles a groan, scribbling down the second rule that left your mouth before absorbing the letters on the piece of paper, "it's for the best if we keep a distance,"

to say like that was a punch in the gut would be an understatement, despite the fact that you proposed the idea in the first place.

alas and without any of you knowing before setting out those four simple rules, now— weeks after, you had found yourself in a position that made it near impossible to keep a distance from each other, or at least make eye contact in a social gathering.

for you, it has become your life in a literal sense to comb through this difficulty, for neuvillette, the possibility of seeing you in the future would secure his sanity and keep him from turning as mad as a hatter.

patience. the incurable truth was patience.

this afternoon, you have to talk for at least five minutes, with a window consisting of a maximum of ten minutes if one of you talked slowly— it's not like you want to see him, but you have to visit your ex husbands office to sign a paper regarding your previously shared finances and then you're good to go for the day again, you can leisurely exit his office and leave this failed relationship behind, exactly where it belonged in the first place, deeply stored in the past.

previously during the negotiations, neuvillette was quite persistent in leaving you the house which was located a little outside of fontaine. he was in no need of it anymore and wanted you to have it, without payments required.

between us two, it's quite obvious he wanted to get rid of it.

but so did you.

you didn't want to stay there, not now, not ever, you wouldn't sign that damned paper even if the god of contracts suddenly came knocking on your door and force you to.

all the memories in that house would eventually eat you up, they'd definitely destroy you, the gnawing grief would certainly keep you awake at night.

originally after telling your ex husband that you didn't want the house, he was able to find you a flat in the city— it's small but cute, and it had everything you needed. a cozy bedroom, a kitchen that was big enough to dance in while you're preparing dinner and an area where you can set up an office for yourself.

how convenient it was that you were previously married to the person that is in charge of fontaine.

aside from that and the fact that you were practically making neuvillette handle the most difficult parts of this— you realize how a sudden guilt was stored on your shoulders, you could barely face him after that.

the parts he needed to handle included, but were not limited to, well, a problem slightly more irritating since it was about his life, turning approximately a hundred other problems he deals with on a daily a whole lot easier.

most of the legal process was handled by him, and only him for that matter, meaning that he had to spend additional hours on it and was barely able to move on with his life after losing you.

unlike you did.

well frankly, it's only been a couple of weeks, a month at best since you've last seen him— although it has been much longer since you've last felt him.

there really wasn't a lot going on in your life after breaking things off, it's always a grueling whirlwind of;

waking up, heading to work, walking home, eating, sleeping, repeat.

most significantly, your new bed felt a bit hard as well, it's uncomfortable and drove you insane.

you missed the one you had previously shared with neuvillette— wether it was because of the way it felt underneath you or because of its much better quality.

perhaps it was also that in the past, you had the chance of leaning against a warm body whenever you were freezing— the secret on why you found your new bed worse in comparison to your old one would certainly remain a secret forever.

it can never be answered, because you do not even know the answer yourself.

it's frequent and happens all the time— when you suddenly begin to wonder late in the evening if this was the right decision after all.

then again, a divorce wasn't necessarily something you would just forget from one day to the other— aside from that, there was a reason it happened, considering the countless events of arguing and the inability of you both to find a solid middle ground.

when you notice that a relationship drains the life out of you, or makes you cry your heart out late at night, a decision has to be made eventually, especially before it would turn your love into resentment or make your respect for the other person dwindle away.

was it really that surprising that you had your doubts?

when it comes down to it, neuvillette wasn't a bad man and you would never speak poorly of him. he was everything else but bad, which reminds you of the reason you had fallen in love with him.

but in earlier days, he had a reflection less of the way he was than of the way he wanted you to see him.

it was challenging for neuvillette to open up to you.

but hell, you're certain you won't be able to find someone who'd ever make you as happy as he did, bring you sweet tummy aches when he makes you laugh all night, or be there for you when you're sick and unable to take care of yourself.

you shake your head in embarrassment, your cheeks aflame as you're drawing several deep, steadying breaths— perhaps that's just how you're supposed to think right now.

it's not real, it cannot be.

right now, you feel like you should've never broken it off, but this marriage had been on death's door for months before the decision was finally formed— albeit from afar, no one had ever suspected anything and you're quite proud of that, in fact, both of you made sure no one would notice too much of what had been going on behind closed doors— like good spouses should always protect each other.

among other things, taking into consideration just how important his work and image was, the last outcome you wanted was for your ex husband to endure dreadful gossips about him.

neuvillette did not deserve a single negative word against him, this man deserved nothing but the finest life for himself— furthermore, after spending yet another night without sleep and thinking about your ex husband, you believed that the best for him just wasn't you.

it never has been.

RULE NUMBER 2: NEVER SHOW UP TO EACH OTHERS HOME OR WORK, NOT EVEN ON EMERGENCIES, ESPECIALLY NOT IF YOU MISS EACH OTHER

it's a little clumsy when you first enter his office, accompanied by an unnerving type of awkwardness outstretching across the room as neuvillette meets your eyes right away— but his head drops after around two seconds and he puffs out a wretched sigh, sounding as if he's about to cry.

neuvillette thought that this should've been way easier— but before you, he has never felt real love like yours before, and he was quite certain that this type of love only happens once in life.

the melusines were also happy to see you, and you could tell that they were equally as confused as you were— they probably did not realize what was going on and nor did you really want them to know.

given that their love and admiration for neuvillette was bottomless and you wouldn't want them to suddenly harbor a disdain for you.

nevertheless, when you listened to what they were whispering about behind your back, they were talking about how you must've been away for travel or desperately needed a vacation from fontaine, or one even mentioned that you might've been sick— considering how dead and empty your eyes looked those past weeks.

then there's the "being busy with work". ah well, the excuses were surely endless and somewhat amusing, you know you're not taking care of yourself when every second a melusine talks about how tired you looked and if you needed a glass of water.

everything but a divorce was being spoken about, at least you managed to hide that well.

your gaze lifts to meet his own again when neuvillette stands up from his desk and looks at you from the opposite side of the table.

under further examination of your facial expression, he notices the slight discomfort that buzzes underneath your skin, especially around your eyes and how you could barely look at him for more than five seconds.

beneath the familiar emotion of being in the same room as him, the sharp bite of his aftershave slips down the back of your throat when you suck in a sharp, choked breath, tensing like a tree at each step forward.

why do you look like you haven't slept for days?

it cannot be, right? but he was paying attention to certain details, either relevant or not he notices how you're looking around without focus, or shift the weight of your body from left foot to right foot.

and well, his supernatural senses were sharp, immediately picking up on your heart pounding against your ribs as if trying to fulfill a thousand beats.

his fingers twitch slightly with the document in his hand as he remains in his position, waiting for you to come closer.

"this couch doesn't seem very comfortable for sleep," you point to the sofa in his office, in an attempt to break the awkward tension, your chin forwarding to the left where a neatly put blanket and a small pillow sat on top of the furniture.

just how many nights has he spent here? did he even sleep in the first place? was he taking care of himself and should you worry?

it's safe to say that his work shouldn't be in danger, but it really is killing you that you cannot ask without coming across like a desperate ex, and you're fully aware that it would also go against your rules.

but neuvillette has always taken his important occupation very serious, sometimes even to the point where he forgot about his own marriage and his wife waiting for him at home with freshly made dinner served and his most favorite beverage awaiting him on a beautifully set up table and— yikes, that escalated quickly.

you're beginning to remember one of the reasons as to why this marriage failed.

"i hope you do not mind if i ask," neuvillette stifles a groan, "but are you mentioning this out of curiosity or are you speaking down on my new sleeping area?" the hint of sarcasm in his voice was unmistakable, the underlying scorn making you wince.

and oh, "sleeping area" was a big statement for that little excuse of a couch, you're very much aware that he can barely fit all of him on it and always had troubles finding a comfortable spot when he fucked— uh, well, when you did things to each other there.

yes, you already know how it felt on there, and who could possibly know of the plentiful times you had been intimate with each other on that couch.

wait a minute, was that the reason? was he already having a rebound this soon after your divorce?

no, it cannot be.

not your neuvillette, hold on, scrap that and reverse, he wasn't your neuvillette anymore.

it's stinging and like pins and needles on your heart when you think about neuvillette fucking someone on the exact same place he made love to you— leading to the conclusion that simply looking at the couch made you sick to your stomach, instantly setting off another unpleasant lurch of nausea yet you could still muster enough strength to fix yourself for the sake of this conversation.

he wouldn't dare, okay, this is the last time you're discussing this with yourself;

what if he wanted you to see this, tell you that:

hey, look at me! i am so happy without you stupid witch, and i already have a new partner too, isn't that nice for me? there really is no need for you to be worried about me, so please sign this document and exit my office.

because i am getting my dick sucked every single day!

your heart beat turns feverish in your chest, and you quickly snap your head towards the direction of your ex husband, "isn't it obvious that i was just trying to make conversation with you?" you retort back, swatting away the dust lingering on your clothes while simultaneously coughing out in an awkward manner.

"although i really cannot imagine that this couch is somewhat comfortable to sleep on."

"i believe you must still remember on how it felt laying there yourself,"

yikes, what a great comeback from him, and he didn't mean to say it like he's spitting venom into your mouth, it's almost like he wanted to tell you that it's your loss you cannot make yourself comfortable on here, even though he wouldn't mind bending you on all fours again like he did last— okay, that's enough.

there was a half-visible smirk on his face that aggravated you, the absolute last expression you were expecting to see from him.

you roll your eyes, "trust me, i don't want to," you reply, pinching your eyebrows together while assessing your distaste of his answer.

just when did an innocent question about a dusty, old couch turn into— whatever that conversation was about.

RULE NUMBER 3: DO NOT ASK INTIMATE QUESTIONS ABOUT EACH OTHERS PRIVATE LIFE

no, stop it, that doesn't seem right, neuvillette shouldn't treat you this way.

right now, he was experiencing his worst nightmare and the previous gears of sadness grind to a halt upon perceiving another emotion— one, that certainly scared him.

whatever the case, he wouldn't repeat his mistake, accepting any destiny the universe would bestow on him as he silently promises himself to stop any anger from slipping past the tip of his tongue.

pressing your lips together, you dig your heels into the ground, "okay, forget it, i don't have a lot of time," an unexpected force of confidence pushes you forward until you could feel the wooden desk graze across your thighs, you're so close now and the only thing keeping your bodies apart was the desk in between.

your mind was repeatedly screaming at your frame to stop moving before you actually did, "i have to be somewhere in, uh, about a couple hours, so lets finish this quickly."

what a sweet and pretty liar that you were, terribly aware that the only thing waiting for you tonight was your bed.

what a sad image, but he must not know!

"oh?" neuvillette mutters bitterly, a nervous rasp roughening his voice.

"a date, i assume?"

you would have gasped if you had any breath to spare, because you did not think this would actually work in a million years.

"ah, ah, ah," you note in a triumphant colored tone, happily waving your pointer finger from left to right.

"this, dear iudex, goes against rule number three."

content, neuvillette resumes to the document in his hand before placing it in the middle of the desk, sucking in a short, harsh breath, eyes deepening down south, just any area that wasn't you,

"of course, my apologies," his tone was thick, sickly sweet with barely cloaked amusement.

now he knows you're lying— he knows you so well it's almost embarrassing.

"this, is why you came for, right?"

you fumble a blistering retort that died with the hard press of teeth against your tongue, "mhm," you murmur in a low, rich tone, his casual unbothered spirit was dangerously convincing.

oh well, he must have gotten it right— and ah, you were remarkably stubborn too, resisting even the most innocent type of help coming from him as you take a random pen laying across the other side of the desk instead of the one in neuvillette's hand.

your eyes slowly scatter over the document, your brain struggling to put together the authoritative choice of words displayed in front of you.

"please elaborate on that," you press a finger on a significantly befuddling paragraph.

neuvillette muses agreeably before slanting against the desk to see for himself— and when he did you got a real good taste of his perfume suddenly invading your nostrils, playing devils advocate when you flinch back a little.

"do not worry yourself about this," his answer came so quickly you barely caught it, spelled out without a flutter of hesitation.

"everything is accounted for," he adds gently, you only need to put your name, there,"

your once-vulnerable eyes now squint stormily, "that smart mouth of yours surely has been busy, i can tell," as you place the pen on the desk before dropping both arms to your side— the man before you narrowed speechless, burning his eyes through your smug face.

"oh, just how many tricks did you pick up on your way here?" he replies sternly, accentuating the "here" as to remind you on where you currently were— as if that would somehow make him look threatening, you have been in his office plenty of times before, both naked and fully clothed, so neuvillette surely must search for another way to dominate this conversation.

priding himself in front of you with his position as iudex certainly wouldn't work on his ex wife.

"why?" you retort, "you like it?"

"indeed i do, or is that what you want me say, i assume?"

"no," a soft sigh above you echoes your own, "but i do find it weird that you'd want me to sign something without explaining it to me,"

"i did explain it to you multiple times, in fact, last time we saw each other i even asked you if you understood what i was referring to,"

an instinctive flutter of frustration, anger and exhaustion slips down his throat, "and if i recollect my memories," he coughs out and walks around his desk, so that nothing was in between you anymore.

"—you have said your time was limited." the radiating dominance of his body momentarily presses your back against the table, trapping you in the middle, caging between a wooden desk and your ex lover.

"that was weeks ago," you pause, "it's normal for most people to want a quick run through on a document of this importance,"

"it's normal?"

"it's normal," you reaffirm.

"how interesting indeed. i will keep that in mind,"

you lean your weight against the desk as to keep the eye contact with him in an attempt to stand your round, and the two of you have since lost the original purpose of this meeting.

"how could you possibly forget that?"

your voices flap over in an unmusical tune when neuvillette attempts to reply to you, although your tone was far louder than his.

there was an awkward moment of silence that was practically slicing the air within your bodies and it's unusual on just how strong the tension had gotten in a span of two minutes. not to mention that he was so close— you honestly preferred it when his desk was keeping you both apart.

it was hard to remember anything and keep a rational mind, neuvillette realized that and found himself deeply saddened on how quick this meeting went out of hand and turned to this.

but a whispered sentence reaches your hearing and immediately calms you into a warm, relaxing state, "i apologise," he speaks finally and it surprises you, a nervous rasp shaking his voice,

"i shouldn't have talked to you in such disrespectful manner,"

your eyes widen, "no," and your cheeks grow hot with deep embarrassment, "it's really my fault, i need to apologize to you," as you force out a shaky laugh in an attempt to lighten up the mood.

"don't," neuvillette retorts back, contemplating wether he should or not but lastly deciding to rest a hand over your shoulder before he squeezes it, a smile manifesting on his lips— and it was otherworldly radiant, illuminating his complete face with deep warmth and joy.

"i always loved that witty side of yours."

he doesn't say anything for a moment, in fact, neither of you do— and the feeling of him touching you again after weeks of spending apart from each other, and despite it being just his palm on your shoulder, was instantly turning your knees into jelly.

the minute of silence felt like twenty years as neuvillette straightens his body upright, drawing a more serious touch along your shoulder before moving his palm from your collarbone until curving his hand along your cheek, holding your gaze through bright, gemstone-like eyes.

he must be crazy, he thinks— because right now, he's going against everything he has promised himself not to do, and everything you have told him not to do as well. but fuck, he hasn't touched you like this in so long, the last time was long before your divorce, and the helpless intensity of his desire horrified him.

it's when neuvillette suddenly realizes that he has never stopped loving you— not even for a minute, nor a searing second.

it was impossible to stop loving you.

"it's just that i…" your voice grows softer and quieter the more you attempt to speak and your heart thuds feverishly in your chest that you're pretty much aware he must notice it too, "everything feels terrible," you admit hesitantly and flutter your eyes up at him, your gaze fanning over the soft pink across his facial features.

neuvillette begins to move his thumb across your cheek, "please forgive me for failing us," he whispers weakly, on the brink of tears, "for failing the only thing that made life worth living," his throat adds a slightly hoarse perception to his tone.

your eyes widen as you attempt to drop your head if not for neuvillette holding your cheek in his palm as a whirlwind of crystallines well up in your eyes, sousing your lashes.

your mind was gone, but suddenly you can think more clear— and you're not depending on the damaging daze that was originally controlling your body's autopilot feature— the grueling circle of work, sleep, repeat.

you sniffle between words, "no!" and helplessly slant into his chest as to bury your face in the fabric of his garments, "it's my fault, not yours!" continuing to cry and wail and sob your heart out.

"please don't hate me! don't resent me!"

being able to finally let go of all those stored emotions in your heart felt utterly freeing, as if an unbearable weight was lifted off your chest.

how did you two even end up in this situation? can someone, just anyone, make this agony for the both of you stop?

neuvillette shushes your cries with a soft shhh, folding his arms around your waist before smoothing one hand across your back. he decides to rest his head on top of yours, his warm breath fanning against your hair as you return his hug, pulling him deeper into you.

"i could never hate you," neuvillette sighs, "it's because i have never stopped loving you," before putting on weight around his embrace on you— perhaps as to prepare himself, because he was sure you were about to smack him due to what he just bluntly admitted to you.

while he knows it was certainly deserved as well, no excuse would make this proclamation easier even in the slightest.

but he doesn't regret it, it's over now. he just wanted to get this off his chest even if you'd most likely break off any remaining contact to him— although now he realizes that you've given him so much and he won't let you go again, not before repeatedly telling you that he loves you, loves you, loves you.

despite him believing that his efforts went to waste.

to his surprise, you did not hit him, nor did you yell at him or ask if he's hit his head somewhere— instead, you slowly move yourself from his chest, a saddened gaze meeting his own as a single tear falls from your eye.

your answer dwells a moment before you push it out, "i love you too," and whisper, "i love you so much," before you're peering at him with an expression he couldn't begin to decipher— for what's obvious, it's pure and selfless, a startled hum immediately following the last syllable that leaves your mouth when neuvillette suddenly slants his head forward to feel your lips.

RULE NUMBER 4: DO NOT FUCK UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, PLEASE JUST DON'T DO IT, SNAP OUT OF IT, DO NOT EVEN THINK ABOUT SEX WHILE BEING IN THE SAME ROOM TOGETHER

by all means, this wasn't supposed to happen— hell, you don't even know how you got here.

but his eyes were enticing as they meet your gaze, a deep source of exuberance affecting your delirium and when he leans into you to kiss your lips, his soft lashes clash against your skin, his traces subtle enough to make you feel a faint tingle shiver downwards your heat.

against all odds, neuvillette was terrible at making this any easier for the two of you, no matter how hard you tried to pull away after the third, fourth or fifth kiss, there was no way of ending this and his tongue made sure to clash against yours at each lap— this passion, it had no resistance, it will always find a way to flourish.

nothing more, nothing less, and you've got the iudex right under a fucking spell because even when his life felt depressing after you left him, when he was living through all those weeks and tried to navigate through this divorce— now, his heart had suddenly begun to beat again, although neuvillette knew that this would go against the fourth, and most important rule you had set up.

but he cannot stop.

blood racing, nerves alight, he pushes you against the desk and helps you to get on top of it.

you wanted him to pleasure you, needed him to use his hands and devour those pretty lips of yours— whine as his mouth carvs in a smirk, so excited and sooth as silk when you wrap your arms around his neck to push his frame against your chest, so he could easily rest his entire weight on top of your own.

"you're gorgeous," he coos, "so utterly breathtaking," the thought of you craving his attention to that level was flooding him with pride, it made his skin crawl with a thousand thunderous vibrations that hit the bulge in his pants, your wet kisses and hot traces fueling the withdrawals of your soul on his skin.

the dizziest groan touches your glossed lips— and neuvillette flips over your skirt to expose your drenched panties to his hungry stare, his eyes instantly hard with lust and love, every measure of his yearning openly shown as his cock twitches uncomfortably in his clinging pants.

you moan a dreamy sigh when the freezing office air hits your most sensitive parts, the tone leaving your lips high-pitched and desperate to feel more of him. in response, you earn a rough groan from neuvillette as he discards of his belt, dopamine shaking his soul alive, manifesting ruthlessly and tempting as you hug him tight, your erected nipples crushing against his strong chest.

you kiss along his neck with tenderness and feel the intense force of redness on his flustered cheeks, your tongue swift to blend over the quivering skin as you lash fiercely at the outline of his jaw between sharp flares of teeth tickling his face— his bewitching expression being held captive by your hand gripping his jaw hard enough to pull him towards you.

unwinding with relief, neuvillette manages to pull his tight slacks off, sighing as he drew out his hard cock and aching balls— instantly taking himself in his palm before fisting it slow in front of your hole. a thrum of arousal around the slit of his tip intensifies his need to crowd you with his shaft, and he gracefully strokes himself until you wrap your fingers around his wrist as to stop him for a second.

"i want you to make love to me," you mumble impatiently, "it's been so long," and neuvillette follows your lead in a flash and a quick nod of his head, making sure that you're sitting all comfortable on the desk and that you wouldn't hurt yourself with a random utensil on the table before he urges you to wrap your legs around his waist, your thighs squeezing his hips close.

"everything you say, i do," neuvillette reassures you, "forever,"

your broken moans and bulging eyes excite him, not to mention when you refuse to let go of him. of course, who knows what will happen after desire subsides and you're both thinking rationally again, after all, you do trust him with your life, but you're still divorced and sure you would look stunning on your second wedding with him, he would very much prefer to marry you right after fucking the broad daylight out of your figure.

gently clutching at your clothes, neuvillette slowly lifts up the fabric until you're wholly exposed for him to feast on, at last working your panties down your legs as they hit the ground, a coy smile spreading across his lips— your naked body was prancing in front of him, reminding him on how gorgeous you were, especially now as your lips hang apart and your lewd whines spill from the tip of your tongue.

your pretty nipples were erected as well, laying a familiar caress up his spine when you grind your chest against his chiseled one, encircling the exposed skin until it comes to meet in front.

"just look at you," he mutters proudly, almost to himself, his cheeks flushed as he ducks his head to hide the beginnings of a pleased smile when he kisses your shoulder. the praises set your blood raising, pumping a hotness into your pussy as you moan out his name in sweet tandem, feeling the slight trace of his cock-head shadowing your hole.

you will do so well tonight, neuvillette thinks to himself, and before he helps you keep your legs parted, he teases your entrance with a half-hearted push of his cock. you want him closer and carry on to search for his entire weight on top of you as his dripping dick slides past the tight edges of your hole, your pussy throbbing as it began to hurt a little— just a bit, and it's important to note that you weren't used to this anymore, used to him, and it's because all the pheromones are currently leaving your body that it was worth having a slight pain come by.

because you knew neuvillette will do anything in his power to make it hurt as little as possible— so you could enjoy his erection painting your walls white as you moan avidly, your pussy rubbing deliciously on him, his hand continuously massaging the delicious, soft skin of your thighs and ass.

you breathe a shaky sigh of relief when he snakes himself half-way in, a gentle breeze of your whimpers scatter across the room as neuvillette continues to push inch after inch of himself into you, your body relaxing underneath his much bigger one as you welcome him, beautiful moans and whimpers spilling from the back of your throat.

oh, how much you missed sucking in his cock like your life depended on it— and whatever issues would arise after this sinful encounter, neither of you was giving an inch of mind to those future concerns.

"there you go, that's what you need," neuvillette grunts, tensing his jaw and limiting his breathing because fuck, how are you still so fucking tight— in any other case, he would never skip foreplay with you, knowing that his size tends to be too big for your pussy, sometimes offering you help in spreading your puffy cunt apart— but he is aware that you're extra wet today, he notices how much easier it was to slide himself through your walls and collect your slick.

a slightest raw edge of desperation made his groan sound almost like a plea when your pussy clamps down on his shaft, and neuvillette moans softly as he bows down to trap your lips against his own, sliding down his tongue and lapping at yours, wet and slow, wet and slow, a low hiss of pleasure accentuating his skilled ministrations.

your pussy squeezes him gently and wets him thoroughly so that his flushed cock glistens in your walls as neuvillette allows himself to nuzzle his face against your neck, humming appreciatively when he began to move his hips, drinking in the light tears that swell in the corners of your eyes as he kisses them away.

everything was so filthy, just like that, and you're back to square one again— it's lewd enough to make his cock throb heavily between your legs when he picks up on his shallow tempo, warm and viscous grinds of his thick cock pounding you in two, wild and passionate burning through your sore hole and matching the rhythm of your hips that were catching his shoves halfway.

fuck, you missed his cock filling you up, shaking at the added stimulation when one hand squeezes your tits— not to mention how heavy it felt to have him deep in your guts again, his slicked erection pawing through your walls and searching for your pleasure spots, until you're practically writhing of overstimulation, most importantly releasing the stress you endured those past weeks.

somehow, everything felt more intense tonight— ecstatic and as if you're drugged of his cock, like you broke off the connection from clear reality each moment his tip inches down the searing spots in your cunt— your screams muffled by his strong shoulder which resulted in your noises coming out in weak cries and sobs.

"i'm— i'm so close." it's the way you said it, the way you wanted him to hear you.

neuvillette glances down on you, "yeah?" he cannot hold back anymore, your walls were too hot and too tight, his thudding erection cornering your bruised pussy as his cheeks turn cherry red— the tip of his ears shading the same color, "will never let you go again..." the following sentence comes from under his breath, a strong utterance, holding graven significance as it ignites flames deep within the pits of your core.

it's so unbelievably sexy when you tell him that he's about to make you cum, and the repeated proclamations of love were aiding your orgasm in unraveling much more intense— neuvillette parts his lips before pinching your nipples in between his digits, never faltering nor losing the steady streams of thrusts on your sex, paying no mind to your minor struggle of keeping his thick member within your sloppy hole.

the moans you sob are bringing him such satisfaction as well, particularly the ones of his name made him swallow down the assembling saliva in his mouth, leaving small kisses against your face as his adams apple bobs harshly against his throat when he grinds his hips into your heat— your slick seeping out at the corners of your hole as your beautiful legs hover over his waist to get into that ideal position.

he cups your pretty face without stopping the shallow tempo on your cunt, "i.. want you to look at me," his rhythm becoming blistering and rapid— it almost pains him to hold himself back, or the desire to cum but wanting to make you climax first. it's like his shaft runs through satin, pressing back and forth the finest silk but it's your pussy instead, so soft and taking his shape, you're made for him and he'll never let you forget.

even though he could hardly breathe because of how achingly hard he was, caged within the tight embrace of your walls as tears spring to his eyes, slip down his flaming cheeks, being wild and free and finally one with you again— in addition to the exciting sounds of wet noises of skin clashing on skin providing the last bonus puzzle pieces to make you spiral out of complete control.

a static crushes as if underwater in your ears— and neuvillette rolls his hips fast and hard, purring deeply when your legs wrap and urge him to penetrate you further. the pleasure buried in you was coiling from the base of your spine and found the candid bubble in your belly before snapping into a million pieces— your gorgeous noises finding his ears as he fucks you faster, yanking his head back and clenching his jaw as you came apart together, moaning into each others mouths and welcoming your orgasm with melting, soothing moans.

you shake your head and bury yourself into his warm embrace, earning you a smile you cannot even see when your thighs shake around his waist as he continues to pump his seed into you, the warm covers of milky whites prolonging your orgasm and intensifying it to a tenfold.

just in time too, his hot gift soothes the soreness on your walls as neuvillette deafens your body with a post-orgasm sensitivity that catches you in a trance, his cock still buried inside and never leaving your tight hole as you work to somehow get a hold of your breath again, letting you ease the stress he senses from you.

the stone-hard desk underneath you was bruising and uncomfortable, but it's bearable when you nuzzle yourself into your ex lover, or, well— current lover? soon to be fiance again?

"do not worry your pretty head," his hand lovingly brushes over your head as you fuse into his trace, "i will take care of everything," as he's allowing you to indulge in the intimate atmosphere you have missed so dearly, "i could marry you right this second, wherever you want," and with that sort of enthusiasm, you hold in every passing word with love, knowing that whatever the case— neuvillette and you will figure out a way, but you'll do it together, as a team.

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stardusksx · 7 months ago

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ೀ⋆｡ ˚ ALWAYS COME HOME. aaron hotchner x bau!reader

summary: hotch seems to be doing everything in his power to get hurt, and that scares you. ( takes places directly after the events of 5x02 )

not my gif! credits to creator <3

warnings: angst, fluff, bau!reader, established relationship, reader is a touch insecure in the relationship but hotch reassures, f*yet, no use of y/n, mentions of self-destructive/suicidal behaviour, arguments, happy ending because i’m not self-destructive :) ( word count: 1.85k )

You didn’t know how late it was, just that the sky had long since darkened and your body ached from the seemingly endless day. But it wasn’t the twilight hour that had drained you— it was watching your boyfriend carelessly stride into a hostage situation like he was simply going to get some groceries.

He hadn’t said anything to you about his plan. Hadn’t said anything to anyone. Instead, you had to stare at his back— devoid of a bullet vest— in disbelief as he disappeared into a house occupied by a child serial killer and his son, the unsub who had been profiled as mentally unwell and unstable. It had been too late to stop him, too late to ask him just what in the hell he was thinking.

You could ask him now. But you didn’t have the energy to argue, so instead you said nothing. You quietly shrugged off your coat as he followed you into the shared apartment, hanging it on one of the pegs.

“It’s a bit late to cook anything, do you want to order in?” he asks, lingering in the doorway.

You hummed noncommittally, placing your bag on the table and unpacking a few items you’d need to put back in the safe later.

He paused. You tried to act like there was nothing amiss. “Or we could get the lasagne out of the freezer that Jessica brought over last week?”

“Whatever you want.” You respond, and the silence lingers for a few contemplative beats. You don’t glance up at him.

“Are you angry at me?”

You inhale, hands halting in their movements. You hadn’t expect him to bring it up— he’d been one track minded lately, so consumed by foyet that you’d started to think something trivial like you giving him the cold shoulder would fly under his radar. And even if he had noticed it, you didn’t think he’d care. With losing his son, being taunted by a serial killer, you wouldn’t blame him for having little capacity for anything else.

You look at him. His brows are furrowed. You look away.

“I’m fine. ” You answer simply, going back to racking through your bag for something— what, you weren’t even sure now, but some insecure part of you didn’t want to have this conversation. Like he had bigger things to be concerned about than your feelings, and you could already see how it was going to go down. He was hard to reason with when he was like this.

But he also wasn’t one to let things go unresolved. He spoke your name pointedly. When you glanced at him, he hadn’t moved from his position near the door, briefcase discarded by his feet.

“Fine. Yes, i’m angry, Aaron.” You continue rooting around your bag, “What you did was reckless, and you could have been hurt or—” you could have been killed. It hangs in the air between you, unsaid but obvious. Over a month had elapsed since he’d been hospitalised after the foyet’s attack, and you hadn’t really had an outlet for all of the fear that had flooded you over those days. It hadn’t been about you— he was the one who needed the comfort, or, well, as close to comfort as Hotch would accept. In reality, he’d been so focused in on finding Foyet from the minute he woken up that you hadn’t even had a moment to express it to him. And that was okay. Really, it hadn’t been about you. But god, when there was a moment you didn’t know if he’d ever wake up, it was the worst you had ever felt in your life.

He was quiet for a moment before he said, in that blasé way of his, “But i wasn’t.”

The words infuriated you. A sharp burst of anger clawed it’s way through your veins, you whipped around to face him. And there he stood— arms folded, brows furrowed in that assessing way of his. Sometimes, just a little bit, you hated how stoic he could be.

“But you could have been!” You snapped, “Obviously, seeing you walk in there like you have nothing to loose is a fucking problem to me, Aaron. It's like you’re trying to get killed. So i’m not just angry, i’m terrified. As if worrying about Foyet being after you isn’t enough, you're purposely putting yourself in harm's way.”

He watched you for a moment, giving away nothing. But you’d learned him over the years, know the way that he thinks. Even when he isn’t talking, isn’t blinking, you could tell what was going on in his head. Yet, sometimes, you needed him to show you. It was exhausting always having to infer. “I made a call,” He spoke your name like he was reasoning with you, “It’s what i thought was best in the situation, and i’ll admit that the outcome wasn’t what i’d hoped for. But I stand by it— someone needed to try and get through to the unsub.”

“I don't think you gave it much thought at all, actually.” You bit back sharply, taking a step towards him, “No vest, no conferring with the team, no communication about your choice of actions. Tell me, what is best about that? Because i’m god damn sure that a couple of months ago you would have never done something so erratic.”

And there it was— the topic you’d been tiptoeing around, what this was really about. No one wanted to dictate how he was navigating everything with Foyet, but as time ticked by, his actions were starting to become more and more worrying. Of course, all of it was going to affect him. But this was a path of self destruction.

“Well a couple months ago I made calls that led to a bus full of people being murdered and Morgan knocked out cold while a psychopathic serial killer could have quite easily ended him. So, excuse me if I had to make some adjustments.”

“So that’s it? You expect me to just watch you put yourself in harm's way and pat you on the back afterwards? Great. That’s just perfect, Aaron. It’s not like I love you or anything. It’s not like it makes me physically sick at the thought of you…” Your hands fly up in exasperation. He watches and watches and watches. He’s always so, unbelievably, calm.

There’s one brief flicker, a barely noticeable swallow in his throat. But his stoicism does not fracture. “All of those lives are not worth the price of mine. If I have to put myself in harm's way, then so be it.”

You blink at him incredulously. He stares back.

“Unbelievable.” You mutter, a scoff leaving your lips. You step away, wishing to look at anything but him. “I’m going to get changed.”

You don’t wait for him to reply. He probably doesn't anyways. The bedroom door shuts behind you, frustrated tears that had been building up finally flowing freely. You kicked off shoes and items of clothing, stepping under the shower head and letting ribbons of hot water cascade down your skin. It felt, for a moment, like you could relax.

But then you remembered how he might not have come home. How he could have been in some morgue instead of the next room. The water became too hot, suffocating, and you hastily shut off the tap and stepped away from the lingering steam.

You’re exhausted, and part of you just wanted him to fold you into his arms and tell you that it would all be okay. But you couldn’t expect that of him now. It was Aaron who needed the support. And you could be that— tomorrow, when the freshness of your frustrations had time to dim and you could look at him without thinking about how close you’d been to losing him. Now, you need to sleep.

Stepping out into the bedroom, you expect it to be vacant. But instead he sits on the edge of the bed, quickly looking up when he hears the door crack open. You avoid his eyes as they watch you rummage through draws for your clothes.

He says your name. You pretend not to hear. He says it louder. You pause, but do not turn to him, and the soft sound of his feet against the carpet precedes the feeling of his presence behind you. His hands slide up your forearms, and suddenly a sob was trapping itself in your throat.

“Honey…” He whispers, willing you to face him. Reluctantly, you turn around, avoiding his gaze. His hands engulfed your face anyway and coaxed your eyes to his.

“You could be the only thing left in my life and that would be all the reasons in the world to make sure I came back home.” His thumbs wiped away tears you hadn’t realised had been shed, “I’m sorry that I scared you. If it was the other way around I'd—” He shook his head, “I don’t know what I'd do. If i’m honest, all i’ve been for the past month is afraid. Of losing Jack, of losing you. I don’t know which way is worse— that Jack is away from me and I can't be the one who protects him, or that you’re right here and I still might fail to protect you. I don’t know how to think about anything else.”

He pushed away damp strands of your hair, “I don’t want to die. I don’t. I just suppose that all I'm thinking about is catching Foyet that every second I spend away from searching for leads is another second I could be too late in saving someone I love. I think it’s why I rushed into that house, i just wanted the case over with so I could get back to Foyet. But I shouldn't have done it. You’re right.” He inhaled, “I want this all over with. I want us to be able to spend the weekend taking Jack to the park, and I want to tuck him into bed at night knowing I'll be making him pancakes in the morning. And I want to wake up next to you for the rest of my life knowing that nothing could take you away.“

“I want that too,” You said softly, “And we’ll get there, I know it. But please, I need you to take care of yourself. I can’t lose you, Aaron.”

“You won’t. I promise.” He assured, conviction laced in his words. Then, “I love you.”

One hand still on your face, the other reached down to pull you into him by the small of the back. It had been so long since your kisses had been anything but fleeting that the feverishness in which he pressed his lips to yours caught you by surprise for a moment. But, god, it was everything that you needed.

Arms wrapping around his neck, you melted into him like it was the easiest thing since the beginning of time. And even if he had doubts about his ability to protect you, there would never be a place in the world where you felt more safe than in his embrace.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch hotchner #hotch x reader #hotch imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotch angst #aaron hotch fic #agent hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #bau team #bau x reader #hotch x you #criminal minds imagine

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unboundprompts · 2 months ago

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hi, i love your prompts!!

can you do prompts/suggestions for revealing a character’s tragic backstory to the other characters? mostly with like hurt/comfort or angst. please n thanks!

How to Reveal a Tragic Backstory

check out these sources:

The Backstory Drip: Helping Writers Become Authors

When Do You Reveal a Backstory of a Character?: Writing Stack Exchange

Writing Character Backstory That Feels Real: Now Novel

1. Establish Context Before the Reveal

Before revealing a tragic backstory, it's crucial to lay the groundwork. Give the audience some clues or hints about the character’s pain or past struggles without fully explaining it. This builds curiosity and tension, making the eventual reveal more satisfying.

Example: Throughout the story, you might show the character having nightmares, flinching at certain triggers, or displaying a particular behavior (like pushing others away) that hints at something painful in their past.

2. Choose the Right Moment

A tragic backstory should be revealed at a moment that feels natural and emotionally charged. Don’t force it into the plot. Often, it works best when the character is vulnerable, perhaps during a quiet moment, when they feel safe enough to let their guard down, or during a crisis when the emotional dam breaks.

Example: The character might reveal their past during a moment of intense emotional vulnerability, like when they think they’re about to lose someone else they care about, or when they are experiencing a setback that mirrors their past trauma.

3. Keep It Uncomfortable

A tragic backstory is rarely easy to talk about, and the discomfort surrounding the reveal can be just as important as the backstory itself. Let the character struggle with the words or try to push the conversation away, only to be coaxed into speaking. This makes the moment feel more authentic and raw.

Example: The character might start the conversation with, "It’s not important" or "I don’t want to talk about it," before finally giving in to the other character’s gentle probing or a shift in the situation that forces them to face the truth.

4. Show, Don’t Just Tell

Instead of simply stating the tragic event, show how it affects the character through their actions, memories, or how they interact with others. This deepens the emotional impact, allowing readers to experience the pain with the character rather than just being told what happened.

Example: Rather than saying, "He lost his entire family in the fire," you could show how the character avoids talking about their family, has flashbacks when they see something related to fire, or even flinches at certain words associated with their trauma.

5. Use Symbolism

The tragic backstory can be tied to something physical, symbolic, or thematic in the narrative. A certain object, place, or even weather can be used to evoke memories of the past, creating a deeper emotional connection.

Example: If the character lost someone they loved in a car accident, perhaps they always have trouble getting into cars, or they wear a piece of jewelry that reminds them of the person. When this item or memory is triggered, the character opens up about the event.

6. Layer the Reveal

Sometimes, a tragic backstory is revealed in pieces over time. A character might not reveal everything all at once, but bits and pieces come out as the story progresses. This gradual reveal can allow you to build emotional complexity and deepen the audience’s understanding of the character.

Example: The character might first mention a loss in passing, then later reveal more details about the circumstances surrounding that loss. In a climactic moment, they might confess the full extent of their pain, perhaps adding a new layer of guilt or unresolved anger.

7. Avoid Making It “Too Perfect”

Tragedy isn’t always a neat, tidy narrative. It’s often messy, complicated, and filled with unresolved feelings. Don’t try to make the tragic backstory feel like it was meant to be "healed" or resolved easily. Characters are shaped by tragedy, and the wounds might never fully heal.

Example: The character might express regret or resentment, even years later. They might struggle with feelings of guilt, or they might have difficulty trusting others due to their past experiences.

8. Don’t Overload the Backstory

While tragic backstories are emotionally powerful, too many details can overwhelm the reader or distract from the present story. Instead, focus on the most crucial parts of the past that shaped the character’s current behavior, rather than telling every painful moment.

Example: Rather than describing an entire traumatic event in detail, focus on how it emotionally affected the character. Perhaps the character doesn’t want to remember, so the backstory is revealed only through emotional reactions to certain triggers or through small, painful details.

9. Use the Backstory as a Motivator

After revealing the tragic backstory, the character’s actions should be influenced by it. Their trauma will affect their decisions, and it’s important to show how it shapes their journey going forward.

Example: The character might reveal that they lost someone to violence, and that’s why they became a protector of others. Or maybe their tragic past has made them emotionally distant, but in the course of the story, they gradually learn to trust and open up.

10. Make the Reveal Matter to the Plot

A tragic backstory shouldn’t just be there to elicit sympathy. It should tie into the character’s motivations, fears, and relationships with other characters. If the backstory doesn’t serve a purpose for the plot, it can feel like unnecessary exposition.

Example: If the character is hesitant to form deep relationships because of their tragic past, this fear will be challenged by their interactions with the other characters. Perhaps their backstory also explains why they’re so skilled in a certain area, giving the plot a practical reason for them to be involved in the current situation.

Writing Prompts Revealing a Tragic Backstory

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

She leaned against the worn table, fingers tracing the edge of a chipped mug, not meeting his eyes. "I didn’t always… I wasn’t always this," she began, her voice thin, strained. He sat across from her, waiting, but not pushing. She swallowed, her chest tightening. "There was a fire, years ago. I was just a kid. My parents—" She stopped, shaking her head, as though the words couldn’t pass her lips without choking her. "I don’t even know how I made it out."

She reached out to touch his shoulder, a gesture of comfort, but he recoiled as if her hand was burning him. His eyes widened, panic flashing across his face. "Don’t," he muttered, backing away, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. "Please don’t." She stared, mouth dry, unsure what she had done wrong, but the way his face twisted as if remembering something painful told her everything she needed to know.

They jolted awake, heart pounding, gasping for breath as the remnants of the nightmare clung to them. The other person, already awake, noticed and reached out, pulling them into their arms. "Shh, it’s okay," they whispered softly, but the words barely registered. "I couldn’t save her," they choked out, voice raw. "I promised, but I—" The sob broke free before they could finish, and the other person tightened their hold, pressing their forehead against theirs. "You didn’t fail," they whispered, offering the comfort of their presence. "You're safe now."

They were walking in silence, the soft crunch of gravel beneath their boots the only sound between them. He kept his head down, eyes fixed on the ground, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. Then, without warning, he stopped. "I watched him die," he said, his voice rough, as though the words were hard to spit out. She turned, startled by the suddenness, but he didn’t meet her gaze. "My brother. He bled out before anyone could help." His jaw tightened, eyes distant. "And I couldn’t do a damn thing."

Her laughter echoed in the room, but it faltered when she saw his face. He wasn’t laughing. He was staring, distant, lost in some memory only he could see. "What’s wrong?" she asked, suddenly concerned. His eyes snapped back to her, and he forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. "Nothing." He turned away quickly, but not before she saw the tear that had escaped down his cheek. "I just... you made me think of my sister."

#writing prompts #creative writing #writeblr #dialogue prompt #story prompt #prompt list #ask box prompts #how to write #how to reveal a tragic backstory #angst prompts #writing advice #writing help #writing resources #writing tips

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makeyuomine · 1 month ago

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written in the stars // part 2

Part 1

Summary: An unexpected encounter at the local bookstore stirs unresolved feelings and quiet tension. What begins with distance slowly shifts as unspoken thoughts come to light.

Tropes: Slow burn, strangers to lovers, mutual pining.

Author's Note: Hi everyone! ⭐️ Thank you so much for the love on Part 1 of Written in the Stars! This is very new to me. Feel free to message me recommendations or ideas!

Photo Credits: Pinterest

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

It had been three weeks since the planetarium.

Three months since she'd stood under a canopy of stars and let a near-stranger kiss her hand like she was something rare. Three months since she'd slipped the torn piece of paper into her coat pocket—then her nightstand drawer—and never dialed the number. Not once.

(Y/N) told herself it was nothing. Just a moment. A beautiful, fleeting thing.

But she still hadn't thrown the paper away.

Stuff like this doesn't happen to me, she thought. And honestly, she wasn't wrong—things like this rarely did.

For three months, she wrestled with the same looping question—whether a man like him could have actually liked someone like her.

And by 'a guy like him' she meant someone who, from the little she'd seen, seemed effortlessly attractive, smart, and surprisingly direct.

There was no resolution, no peace. Eventually, she wandered to her favorite bookstore in Los Feliz, hoping that maybe a new book could silence the noise in her head, if only for a little while.

(Y/N) had been purposefully avoiding the Romance section—the last thing she needed was a reminder of love in any form. Instead, she wandered aimlessly through the other aisles, letting herself judge books by their covers. The overly illustrated ones didn’t appeal to her; she preferred something cleaner, quieter. Understated.

At the end of the row, she reached for a third book.

The One I Didn't Call was the title of the book. She let out a dry laugh, eyebrows lifting. "No fucking way."

Flipping it over, she skimmed the summary. Definitely a romance. Definitely shelved in the wrong section. And, somehow, despite her efforts to escape the topic—it actually sounded good. Relatable, even.

With a sigh, she added it to her new collection of books. Maybe the universe had a sense of humor after all.

She was just about to round the corner when she saw the very person who had been consuming her mind for months.

Her feet stopped before her brain caught up.

Harry stood a few feet away in the media section, his back mostly turned to her as he skimmed the contents of a record sleeve. A small stack of items was tucked under one arm—books, a film or two, something that looked like a CD, even. She didn't know anyone who still bought physical music, and yet… of course, he would.

He wore a light button-up shirt again—this time a soft, weathered shade of cream that caught the bookstore's amber lighting. The sleeves were rolled up just enough to reveal the collection of tattoos on his forearms, and his shirt was untucked like he'd tossed it on without thinking too hard. Effortless. Warm in a way that made her ache a little.

She ducked back a step, heart beating fast.

She could walk away. He hadn't seen her yet. She still had time.

But she didn't.

Instead, she stood frozen at the edge of the aisle, her copy of The One I Didn’t Call held tightly to her chest, as if it might shield her from the reality of what—or who—was five feet away.

As if he could feel the weight of her gaze, he glanced up—his eyes scanning the aisle until they landed on hers, unerringly and all at once.

For a second, his expression flickered—something hopeful behind the eyes—but it was gone just as quickly. Replaced by polite recognition. A distant nod.

(Y/N) froze again. She hadn't planned for this.

His mouth parted, as if to speak, but then he seemed to think better of it. Instead, he looked back down at the book in his hands, the motion too pointed to be anything but deliberate.

She stayed where she was, heart thudding, pulse loud in her ears.

Because she saw it this time—clear as the title still pressed against her chest.

He wasn't indifferent. He was hurt.

The stillness stretched between them, thick with everything unsaid. Harry cleared his throat first, the sound almost awkward in the quiet space.

"I didn't expect to see you here," he said, his voice quieter, as if he was testing the waters, unsure of what the atmosphere between them was.

"Same here," (Y/N) replied.

She swallowed hard, feeling like the world was tilting around them. "I didn't mean to—"

He shook his head, cutting her off. "You don't have to explain anything." His eyes flickered briefly to her hand, still clutching the book.

The One I Didn't Call.

A soft chuckle escaped him, the title almost too perfect, too ironic for the situation.

She must've picked up on it, too—her lips curling into a small smile, the irony of it not lost on her.

"Listen," (Y/N) began, voice a touch unsteady.

"I haven’t stopped thinking about that night at the Observatory," she confessed, her eyes flicking up to meet his.

Harry’s brows lifted, clearly caught off guard. He had all but assumed she’d moved on—that whatever he’d felt had been one-sided.

"I haven’t either," he said quietly.

The warmth of his words settled in her chest, softening something that had been wound tight for weeks.

Encouraged, she stepped a little closer. "I’m sorry I didn't call. It was… stupid, really. I was scared."

He said nothing, just listened, gaze intent on her like she was something rare.

She hesitated, then added, "I didn't think you could actually be interested in someone like me."

That stopped him. His expression flickered—confusion, disbelief, maybe even a trace of hurt.

Why would she think that? Had he said something wrong? Did he come off insincere? His thoughts tumbled fast and tangled.

But before he could say anything, she stepped in gently.

"It wasn't you," she said quickly. "It was nothing you did. I just.. It's personal stuff I need to work on."

Harry gave a small nod, the clarity softening the sting he'd carried—the ache of what he'd assumed was rejection turning into something more bearable.

"I know we don't really know each other," he said, stepping closer, his voice low but steady. "But there's something about you that draws me in. You're beautiful—and there's this quiet way you carry yourself that just… sticks with me."

He paused, searching her face.

"So I'm trying to understand how you could ever think a 'guy like me' wouldn't be interested in someone like you."

(Y/N) didn't know what to say. She had never really been in a situation like this before.

(Y/N) didn't answer right away. The weight of his words settled between them like dust in a shaft of light.

She looked down, then back up at him. "I think I've spent a lot of time convincing myself I’m not what people want," she said, barely above a whisper. "Even when they're standing right in front of me, telling me otherwise."

They stood there, surrounded by rows of paperbacks and hardcovers, a pocket of quiet in the world.

Harry's eyes softened. He didn't push, didn't press.

After a beat, he glanced at the book still in her hand and smiled faintly. "You gonna buy that?"

(Y/N) looked down at the cover again—The One I Didn't Call—and exhaled a breath that was almost a laugh. "Yeah," she said. "Feels fitting."

He smiled, just a little. "Can I get your number?"

She looked at him—really looked at him—and nodded. "Yes."

The cashier’s bell rang softly in the distance, signaling the end of something—or perhaps the beginning.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Author's Note: Thank you for taking the time to read my work!

#harry edward styles #harry x y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles slow burn #slow burn

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lakefu · 1 year ago

Text

A Perfect Warmth 🕯️

Summary: Astarion and Tav take a well deserved break away form the chaos of their adventures at an inn inside Baldur's Gate. They need to clean up and get back on the road but they keep getting distracted. Perhaps plans could be delayed for a night of passion...

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Tags: 18+, Explicit, fluffy smut, brief Astarion trauma response, PIV, erogenous elf ears, scent kink, blood + biting, a bit of praise, a bit of edging... a sprinkle of cockwarming...., these guys are in love...

Word count: 3.5k Note: This was my first fic originally uploaded on Ao3 on 11/27/23, inspired by the patch #4 dev note mentioning adding sponges to clean your companions. I've made edits from the Ao3 post.

“Remind me to sell this junk next time we pass by a merchant, would you dear?” Astarion was seated at the edge of the bed and rummaging through his traveler’s pack, placing various items on the nightstand for further examination. Two silver forks, an old necklace, and a handful of various polished stones ended up on the table before he plucked out an intricate sapphire ring and held it up to the sunlight peeking through the window.

“Good taste,” he muttered to himself. He placed the ring on his pinky finger in amusement and resumed the scavenge.

“It’s going to get difficult sneaking up on people if I have to lug this heavy thing around you know.” He threw over a glance at Tav, who was preoccupied with gathering laundry together in preparation for the next day.

“It wouldn’t be so heavy if you didn’t pocket nearly every shiny thing we came across,” she teased, without even looking over at him.

He gasped dramatically. “Framed by my own lover? Quite the scandal. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten the near dozen times you’ve asked me to hold onto your things because your own pack was too full.”

“Hmm. Maybe. I guess that might sound sort of familiar…” She giggled to herself and walked into the bedroom to catch his eye, meeting him with a mischievous grin.

“Why are you such a- oh! Now, what’s this you’re wearing?” Astarion blinked and scanned her up and down, clearly enthralled by the wardrobe change. She stood there in an old linen robe that was yellowed with age, definitely unlike anything he had ever seen her in before.

“Just some old thing I found in the dresser here, isn’t it just fabulous?” Tav's words were dripping in sarcasm and yet she smiled, performing a grandiose little spin in the middle of the room as if she was wearing the most beautiful ball gown in the world.

“I… it’s just so different from your usual armor or that drow nightwear you fancy so much. You look so… domestic.” His eyes were locked onto Tav intensely, with brow furrowed as he seemed to be confused by his own words.

She felt her heart skip a beat and a flush run to her face.

“And you think that’s a good look for me?”

His eyes softened and he paused a moment before quietly answering.

“Yes… I do.”

Tav watched as his smile faded and the gaze of his eyes became increasingly more distant. The atmosphere seemed to shift and a slight panic ran through her body. Did she do something wrong? No... and it didn’t require a tadpole connection to get an understanding for what had brought down his spirits.

Astarion hadn’t considered a comfortable domestic life was possible for someone like him. Even the slightest concept of such a thing had been buried for over a hundred years, and he never expected it to resurface. Was he worthy of such a thing, and was it even possible?

Oh, it was possible. The evidence was standing right in front of him, spinning circles in an ugly bathrobe. He could see glimpses of a happy future that was so close to being a reality he nearly felt nauseous. Not because he was unsure of himself, but because there were still too many unresolved matters they had a duty to attend to. Too many missions and stupid little quests that could now go wrong and threaten this idea of a happy ending he never even knew was possible.

Everything was different now that he realized what was possible, and he suddenly felt an unknown and uncomfortable pressure. All he knew was that he couldn’t afford to lose in the upcoming battles. Battles that some would say were impossible, suicidal even. The thought of loss at this point was beyond unbearable. It was sickening just to think about.

“Hey!!” Tav ran up to where he was sitting on the bed and took his head in her hands. She placed a delicate kiss on his forehead, knowing she had to get him focused on something else.

“Why don’t we go to the shop right now and get rid of that stuff,” she motioned to the collection of items that had been gathered on the nightstand.

“Wouldn’t hurt to get some more coin in our pockets, right?” She looked at him expectantly and felt a huge relief as a light seemed to return to his eye and meet her view.

“Please tell me you aren’t going to wear that horrid robe to see the merchant,” he sighed and looked up at her pleadingly.

“Of course not!! I’ll change and- oh gods!!! We’ve got to get this blood off your face, the merchant is going to think we are trying to kill him!” Tav exclaimed as she lightly shook his shoulders, and quickly began examining his body to see how much cleaning would have to get done before they could leave.

“Blood… on my face?” He raised an eyebrow and brought a finger to his cheek.

“Yeah!! Well, it’s all over you really, dontcha remember earlier today, fighting those cultists?? You sneaked up behind one of ‘em and BAM!!! Just obliterated with a single strike, it was amazing!! You’re so strong…you know.” Her pulse was racing at the mere memory of the event as she delicately traced the side of his face with her fingers and ventured down to his chest.

“Ah of course. That was all so terribly easy I’d nearly forgotten,” he said proudly, adjusting his posture and keeping his eyes on Tav’s hand movements sliding across his chest. Her soft touch was becoming more firm as her fingers made their way toward his arms, giving his biceps a teasing squeeze before leaning her face into his and teasing a kiss.

Before their lips could touch, Astarion wags a finger in between their faces as if to remind Tav of the task at hand.

“Alright my sweet, let’s clean up shall we? You’re my mirror after all. So, go on then.” He took her hands into his own and gave them a kiss before placing them back at her side, encouraging her to go and gather whatever it was she needed to get him cleaned up.

Right, the supplies. It was nearly impossible to remain focused after moments of intimacy with him, no matter how brief they were. She quickly moved into the other room to acquire the washcloths and bucket of soapy water that she was using for herself not too long ago. Hands full, she scurried back to the bedroom to meet her lover, who hadn’t moved an inch.

As she approached him, Tav could feel the tie on her robe becoming increasingly more loose with each step that was taken across the floor. The embarrassment hit her as she realized she didn't have any hands free to do anything about it. She quickly tried to put the bucket down by the bedside, but the bending movement only resulted in the robe slipping off one of her shoulders, exposing a bare breast.

“Oh? You haven’t got anything on underneath?” Astarion cocked his head in amusement, eyes unmoving from the newly exposed skin.

“Ye-yeah that’s the whole point of robes isn’t it? I was doing laundry earlier ya know and umm,” She laughed nervously and started to fix the wardrobe malfunction but was quickly stopped by a hand over her own. Astarion reached out toward her until both hands were around her waist and pulled her in close to his body. Fangs were peeking through his devious smile while determined eyes looked her up and down. With a singular finger he crept over to the loose knot of the robe’s tie and flicked it completely undone with one swift movement.

Tav shuddered and felt her body starting to run warm despite now being suddenly exposed to the cool air of the inn. She was completely revealed to him now, the robe only just clinging to her arms and draped across her backside.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he sighed and began kissing her stomach and caressing the curves of her waist. “Come here.”

Tav gasped as she felt his cold grip around her waist tighten as he expertly lifted her up onto his lap with ease. Pleased at the new angle, Astarion shifted his attention to kissing the crook of her neck and started moving down her chest. He delightfully found her nipple with his mouth in no time, and teased it in circles with his tongue just as he knew she liked it. His gentle sucking continued for only a few brief moments before he suddenly withdrew and cleared his throat.

“Ah, well. You can reach my face better up here I’m sure. For the cleaning of course,” he said smugly. The elf leaned back and admired the view of his lover, nude and flustered, perched oh-so perfectly on top of him.

“The cleaning…” Tav nodded and remembered she still had a warm and soapy washcloth in her hand. The urge to throw the stupid cloth into some unknown corner of the room was nearly undeniable. All she wanted in this moment was for him to take her completely, in any way he wanted, it didn’t matter as long as she ended up getting fucked into oblivion. So fine. On with the cleaning.

She raised the washcloth to his temple and slowly began to wipe away the dried blood by working down his face. His cheeks were a bit sunken as usual but flushed adorably in this moment, clearly enjoying the tender rubs of cloth on his skin. She continued rubbing down toward his chiseled jawline, across to his lips, and back up the other side to repeat the process once more. She ran her fingers through his silver curls and noticed his ears would need cleaning too.

One hand caressed the pointy ear to keep it in place and the other brought the washcloth in for a gentle scrub. A quiet moan suddenly escaped the vampire’s lips.

Oh? She had seemingly discovered a sensitive spot and noted that she would have to continue her work carefully. The scrubbing continued but Tav couldn’t keep her eyes off his face now. His eyes were closed but still noticeably moving behind their lids, and his lips were slightly parted with his breathing becoming increasingly heavier and more noticeable.

Astarion was in his own world of pleasure. What in the hells had he been doing these past weeks, aimlessly scrubbing himself clean alone in the river when they could have been doing this the whole time instead?

He opened his eyes just to make sure it wasn’t all a dream. She was still there of course, diligently and lovingly taking such good care of his body. A wave of maddening lust rushed through his core and he needed her closer. He needed her as close as physically possible and even more so after that.

Their eyes met, revealing intense desires. Tav lowered her hands and she spoke slowly, “Can you take your shirt off? There’s a spot I can’t get to with it on…”

She wasn’t fooling anybody, but he obeyed without hesitation. The shirt was gone in seconds, revealing his pale and perfectly sculpted chest. It was a sight that Tav never tired of admiring, and was in fact the subject of distracting daydreams on the daily. She shifted her body closer to his and continued scrubbing his neck and chest, despite it becoming increasingly more difficult to focus. Deep breaths.

She had always been fond of his cologne that he was quite proud of concocting himself. The scent of aged brandy, bergamot, and rosemary was now forever an Astarion specialty that she could never forget. Even during times of battle or travel, a gust of wind could carry his essence to her and bring along with it a sense of reassuring familiarity. As she continued to wipe him down, however, a different scent began to come to the forefront.

It was something that did not seem completely foreign, but it wasn't immediately identifiable either. There was something about taking it all in that felt forbidden. Tav tried to pinpoint what she was experiencing. He smelled earthy… raw… unnatural… it was without a doubt, the undeath.

An undeniable heat rose through her body as she engulfed herself with this pure scent from her lover. The washcloth, the bed, the entire room seemed miles away, and nothing felt coherent except for a craving to be even closer to him. Nothing else existed except their bodies and her overwhelming desire to-

“Eager, are we?” A sultry voice snapped her back into reality, where piercing red eyes amusingly greeted her return. She suddenly became aware of a presence between her thighs and glanced down, realizing she was sitting atop a clothed bulge. His hands had a firm grip on her backside and his encouraging movements made it clear she had been absentmindedly grinding on him during her trance.

“Shit, I got carried away…” She hadn’t taken her eyes off his crotch and began to notice that her excitement had left a dampness on his clothes. Embarrassment nearly overtook her, but a gentle yet confident hand grabbed her chin and brought it up to meet his gaze. He leaned into her with a grinning open mouth and kissed her passionately, tongues intertwining.

She felt his fangs briefly scrape against her tongue every so often until a metallic taste became increasingly noticeable. She didn't mind the blood, especially since it seemed to enhance his arousal as noted by his hips continuously jolting faster up into her exposed crotch. Tav was soon pleasantly overwhelmed between his deep kisses and desperate hands groping her at every curve of her body. She longed to give him everything; her blood for his hunger, her body for his pleasure.

Tav released herself from the kiss they had been locked into and tilted her head so that her neck became exposed as an undeniable gift. His mouth lunged at the presented spot as soon as it was noticed, fangs immediately sinking in deep. Tav cried out at the initial impact but soon was reveling in the experience. It was a perfect mixture of pain and pleasure that she was only capable of experiencing from him.

He remained on her neck for a while, still tightly holding on to her body and keeping one hand free to reassuringly caress the back of her head. It was only after the blood flow slowed to a near stop did he cease his medley of licking and sucking at the wound. Blood dripped down his chin and onto his exposed chest, but he was ultimately unfazed. He leaned back, clearly happy and mostly satisfied, but there was still a different type of satisfaction he had left to chase.

Astarion's throbbing erection was begging to be released from its clothed restraints. He quickly untied his pants and shifted his underwear to finally free it. He moaned a few incomprehensible words of relief and stroked himself a few times before looking up at Tav for approval.

Tav had been staring at his length from the moment it was exposed, an impressive size for an elf, no doubt. Her eyes fixated on his perfectly pink tip, glistening with precum just for her. She immediately fantasized of shoving him down her throat until she choked and cried, but that was a fantasy for another day. In their current position, they both knew there was only one simple way of how to continue.

“Astarion,” she whimpered. “Fuck me.”

Tav sat up on her knees and positioned herself so that her entrance was just nearly grazing the head of his dick, ready to take him in completely at any moment. She grabbed ahold of his shaft and guided the tip back and forth through her folds until he was covered in her slick. The new sensation of the friction between them left them both gasping and desperate for more.

Suddenly, finally, his arms wrapped around her body as he pulled her down onto him with one firm motion. Astarion grunted through his teeth while Tav moaned unapologetically, focusing on relaxing enough to allow her body to adjust to his length inside of her.

The temperature differences between their bodies only heightened the feelings of pleasure whenever they became one. Her warmness was intoxicating to him, granting a sense of safety and bliss that was impossible to achieve anywhere else. He was already so close to the edge in this moment, but was not ready to give in just yet. He wanted this moment of heaven to last as long as possible.

Meanwhile, Tav was having the time of her life riding her man like there was no tomorrow. She had no intent to slow down until a pair of large hands suddenly gripped her hips in a way that prevented any further movement.

“I’m not done with you yet, love. Didn’t you notice the mess I’ve made after feasting on you?” Astarion took a finger to his chin and smeared a bit of Tav’s fresh blood down his neck.

It was true, he had made a mess. Quite uncharacteristically of him in fact. Tav had assumed he had simply gotten careless in his horny and feral craze but no- it was clearly all calculated.

“Just be still and sit nice and pretty on my cock. Finish the cleaning, then I’ll take care of you myself. How does that sound?”

How does that sound? His words echoed in her head, which was already spinning plenty enough as it was. She was unsure if it was from the blood loss or her seemingly never ending carnal desires, but perhaps it was both. One thing was certain, however, he could convince her to do damn near anything speaking in that low and lustful tone of his. Without uttering a word she slowly brought the washcloth up to his chest.

“Good girl,” he whispered. He felt her body twitch around him in response to the praise, and he leaned back to relax and enjoy these final few moments of intimacy.

It had taken everything in Tav's power to remain still while she worked. It wasn't exactly easy to focus- she was being split in half by a whimpering vampire beneath her after all. Astarion’s skilled fingers had been dancing around her swollen clit the whole time, just enough to keep her stimulated but never enough to let her come.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the blood was all cleaned up. She hadn't even realized when it happened or how he did it, but his pants were completely gone now. She reached over to place the cloth down and awaited her reward of sweet release.

Astarion’s hands moved to the knees that were straddling him and slowly pushed them farther apart, spreading Tav’s legs open bit by bit. She inhaled sharply as she took him in deeper. He opened her up more and more until she lost her balance and fell backwards onto his expectant embrace.

“Relax darling, I’ve got you,” He purred in reassurance.

Astarion took her entire weight in his arms with ease and laid her down amongst the soft pillows of the bed. He nestled himself comfortably between her legs, making sure their bodies were flush with one another. Nearly smothered by his body now, all Tav could do was claw at his back and arch her hips into his powerful thrusts. His mouth frantically traveled across her lips and neck with desperately wet kisses until he settled near her ear with a playful nibble.

“You’re so beautiful…” He whispered tenderly, while the rhythm of his lovemaking became increasingly sporadic. “So fucking perfect… Gods…just for me… I love you… so much...”

“Star, I- ah!” Her words cut short as she felt something snap within her. Pure ecstasy- she was falling and flying somewhere a million galaxies away and never wanted to come back. Obscene noises and curses filled the room as they rode out each other’s high in tight embrace. The smell of sex lingered in the air as their bodies heaved with labored breaths, finally collapsing on each other in exhaustion.

They laid together a while longer, exchanging soft kisses and enjoying the short moment in time where nothing else in the world mattered. Eventually, Astarion rolled out of the bed and stood up to stretch.

“Tsk, looks like it’s my turn to clean you up my dear,” He said with an accomplished grin, eying how her thighs were dripping with his sticky mess.

“I’ll be right back, don’t move an inch. Actually, I doubt you can move at all after that, ahaha!” He laughed and leaned over to brush aside a strand of Tav’s sweaty hair that was stuck to her forehead before walking over to the other room.

“Shut up… dummy…” she smiled to herself and rolled over, feeling at ease enough that the weight of sleep was starting to overtake her.

“I love you too, Astarion.” Her eyes closed as she drifted off into a peaceful slumber, knowing that her lover would soon come back to her side like he always did, and always would.

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion smut #astarion fanfic #astarion romance #astarion ancunin #tavstarion #bg3 astarion #astarion fluff #bg3 #astarion fanfiction #vampire fanfiction #astarion x f!tav #astarion x female tav #bg3 smut

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akanemnon · 10 months ago

Note

susie headcanons?

These are mainly facts for TR!Susie

She was held back once

Susie can do the thing lizards do when they clean their eyes with their tongue

She's deeply jealous how supportive Kris' family is. Which is why she bullied them in the past. It was a form of projection

before moving to Hometown she came from a human community. There was some unresolved trauma from that that made her resentment towards Kris even worse

Despite that, she's actually kinda fascinated by humans. But mostly the non-monster-like stuff about them, like blood.

Even though she grew up in a human community, she doesn't know a lot about them though.

Her family is very poor can't afford the most basic of food items. That's why she is constantly hungry and shoves down random inedible stuff down her gullet.

Susie does have a particular liking for fruity flavors and scents though.

She doesn't get a lot of sleep thanks to her parent's constant fighting.

She has troubles controlling her own strength. She has frequently broken stuff on accident.

#ask #twin runes #susie deltarune #queued post

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dramioneasks · 11 months ago

Note

This is a really old fic! Draco and Hermione are at Hogwarts, Lucius is sentenced to the kiss, and Hermione figures out they need to steal a stone which can trap a soul or something. So Lucius doesn't lose his in the process, it works and they save him. The malfoys are also pretty accepting of hermione after figuring out Draco likes her. Blaise is the main antagonist in this and tries to stop them from finding the stone in the cave in the forbidden forest.

They also have elemental powers, Hermione as Fire and Draco as Ice. Hermione first loses control in front of snape and sets him on fire lol.

This was asked years ago, and we never found it :(

#anonymous #unresolved fic search #anti blaise #elemental #forbidden forest #magical items #ancient magic #lucius

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staratinia · 3 months ago

Text

Handcuffed

This work contains smut - minors do not interact

Pairing: Mello x Fem!reader x Near

Synopsis: Mello and Near are handcuffed together and the cuffs will not come off unless certain specific circumstances occur...they require your assistance.

Warnings: Explicit smut

A/N: I know this is different.. I had to get creative. I felt a forced situation was the only way Mello and Near would ever do this together. For the anon who suggested poly- I hope you enjoy this.

wc: 1.8k

_________________________________________

You’re curled sideways in an office chair, one leg draped over the armrest, a cold energy drink sweating in your palm. The ops room is a wreck of cluttered desks, empty takeout boxes, loose wires, the smell of three different kinds of instant noodles clinging to the air like regret.

Mello’s pacing like he’s got a bomb ticking under his skin. Every few laps, he runs a hand through his messy blond hair like it personally offended him.

Near’s on the floor, cross-legged in a sea of puzzle pieces, holding a stylus between two fingers and methodically building a tower of numbered data cards. He hasn't looked up in at least forty-five minutes.

Matt’s the only one enjoying himself. He’s half-sprawled on a desk, red goggles pushed up to his forehead, Game Boy forgotten in his lap, a smirk twitching at the corners of his mouth as he digs through a dusty lockbox labeled ARCHIVE: CLASSIFIED – UNUSABLE ARTIFACTS.

“Hey,” he calls lazily. “You guys ever hear of ‘conflict-resolution cuffs’?”

Near doesn’t respond. Mello doesn’t stop pacing. “The fuck is that, a kink toy?”

Matt pulls something shiny from the box. Metal glints under the overheads—sleek cuffs, silver but inscribed with something that shimmers when he tilts them.

"Magical containment? Binding rituals? You know how they loved that esoteric bullshit"

Near speaks without looking up. “Most of the Archive is unstable or unproven. Do not engage with any items marked in red.”

“They weren’t red,” Matt says, squinting. “They were.... more of a soft rose gold.”

Mello mutters, “If this is another one of your dumbass jokes—”

“Relax.” Matt flicks the cuffs open one-handed, grinning. “They probably don’t even—”

He’s suddenly beside Near. Near looks up. First mistake. Matt snaps one cuff onto Near’s wrist with a sharp click.

“Matt.” Near’s voice doesn’t change, but his fingers freeze mid-stack.

Mello whirls. “Are you fucking kidding me—”

Before you can say a word, Matt turns and slaps the second cuff onto Mello’s wrist.

Click.

There’s a flash of cold light—like a camera bulb and static hitting skin—and then the air feels wrong. Heavier. You feel it. The room does. The whole dynamic shifts.

Mello’s hand twitches. The chain between their wrists is taut. Seamless. No lock. No hinge. No keyhole.

“Matt—” you start, rising.

Matt’s already backing toward the hallway, arms raised in surrender. “Hey, look. If it makes you feel better, I genuinely didn’t think it would work. I was just bored.”

“You moron!” Mello yells, yanking at the cuff. The chain doesn’t even creak. “You cuffed me to him?!”

“You’re welcome!” Matt’s already halfway out the door, grabbing his console on the way. “You two have unresolved tension! This is basically therapy!”

“This is magical fucking bondage therapy!” Mello shouts.

Matt winks at you before disappearing into the hallway. “Good luck, sweetheart. You’re their emotional support peacemaker now.”

The door slams shut.

You've been reading up. The archives are vast. Obscure tomes on magical devices. You finally find it—Soulbind Cuffs: R13 series. Intended as a last-resort bonding tool for high-stakes diplomacy or… couples therapy??

You read the fine print.

Cuffs will only disengage upon shared, consensual emotional alignment. Intimacy accelerates process. Completion of mutual release—emotional, physical—breaks the tether.

You reread that line five times.

Then look up. The boys are glaring at each other across the coffee table, one shared wrist between them. Mello’s sweating, hair stuck to his cheek. Near is tapping a Rubik’s Cube, unblinking.

You clear your throat.

“So. I figured it out.”

Two sets of eyes snap to you.

“They won’t come off unless you both—” you gesture vaguely “—achieve mutual climax. Together.”

Dead silence.

Mello goes red instantly. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“It’s magic!” you throw your hands up. “It doesn’t care about gender or preference or grudges. It wants to see two bonded souls climax together. Emotionally. Physically. Whatever. It's metaphysical synergy.”

Near’s head tilts. “A forced sexual ritual.”

“Don’t call it that,” you groan.

Mello’s voice drops. “We’re not doing it.”

Near nods. “Agreed.”

You sigh. “Then you’ll be like this forever.”

“I’d rather die,” Mello snarls.

“I’d rather wait,” Near says blandly.

You just shake your head.

Mello growls, yanks at the cuff again—still nothing.

You don’t speak either. You just walk toward them. Unhurried. Hands loose at your sides. You kneel in front of them—between them—rest your palms on your thighs. Steady. Present.

“I’m not saying you two have to fuck each other.” That gets their attention. You breathe. “But I can help. If you let me.”

Mello narrows his eyes. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

Near’s eyes are fixed on your mouth. “You believe... you could stimulate both of us to simultaneous orgasm?” His voice is calm, clinical, but there’s a flicker there. A pulse under his skin.

You sigh. “You’re the ones chained together. Unless you’ve got a spell I don’t know about, this is the only way.”

Mello rubs his face. “I can’t believe this is happening. With him.”

“I’m not pleased either,” Near replies, adjusting the angle of his knees.

“Oh shut up, you don’t feel anything.”

“I feel irritation...you are the source.”

_____________

The room’s warm. Lamp low. No one’s talking anymore. The air feels loaded, like static—like something wants to snap.

You’ve peeled your shirt off, unhurried, sitting cross-legged in front of them on the rug. Mello’s leaned back on his hands, arms tense. Near sits perfectly upright, but his jaw flexes.

They’re both watching you. Their bodies still separated by the inch-thick chain, wrists close but nothing else. They refuse to touch.

So you crawl forward.

“This isn’t about you two liking each other,” you murmur, reaching up to rest a hand on each of their thighs. “It’s about needing each other. Right now. In this moment. To get out of this.”

Mello doesn’t answer. He’s biting the inside of his cheek. Near nods once, robotically.

You start slow. Fingers first, brushing over the front of Mello’s pants. He’s already half-hard. No surprise. All that rage, tension, frustration—it’s sitting right there under the surface, waiting to break.

He lets out a breath through his nose, sharp and ragged. “Don’t tease.”

“I’m not,” you whisper.

You turn to Near, and his eyes are on your hands, blinking slow. His cock is delicate, flushed against pale thighs. You palm it gently. He exhales.

Mello scoffs. “Bet he’s never even been touched.”

“By people with manners? No,” Near replies evenly.

“Fucking hell—” Mello grits

“You’re really responsive,” you say, and smirk when he glares.

You turn to Near, he doesn’t even blink. Just watches the whole time as your hand slides against him. His breath stutters when your fingers close around him.

You stroke them both—two different bodies, two different pulses. Mello wants pressure. Speed. Your wrist aches trying to keep up. Near needs rhythm, precision. He twitches if you deviate. They’re both trying so hard not to show how much they want this.

“Still emotionless, Near?”

His voice is breathy, distant. “Physical responses are not proof of emotional depth.”

Mello barks a laugh. “You’re hard as fuck. What’s that—data collection?”

“Observation,” Near says, eyes fluttering as your thumb brushes his tip.

Two different rhythms. Mello fast, tight, frantic. Near slow and steady, your thumb circling the head of his cock in lazy little patterns that make him twitch. They’re both panting now, shoulders rising and falling like they’ve run miles.

Mello’s eyes are glued to your chest. “Fucking take it off.”

You smile and unhook your bra. Mello groans. Near reaches up like he’s unsure if he can, but you guide his hand to your breast and gasp as his thumb brushes your nipple.

Your moan gets both of them to freeze.

“She’s loud,” Mello mutters. “You like that?”

Near presses his palm against you. “It may assist with... alignment.”

Mello snorts. “Just admit it turns you on.”

“Admitting that would alter the results,” Near murmurs.

You laugh softly, then lean back to peel the rest of your clothes off.

When you’re fully naked, they stop arguing. They’re just watching. You crawl up into Near’s lap, straddle him, and reach back for Mello.

You guide him behind you, feel the burn in your thighs as you press back into his body. Mello groans as his cock glides between your cheeks, hands gripping your hips.

“Still want to kill each other?” you whisper.

Near is breathless. “Temporarily... distracted.”

Mello’s mouth is against your neck now. “You’re lucky you’re hot.”

You slide down onto Near first. His cock fills you, inch by inch, and his breath punches out of his lungs. He’s frozen beneath you, gripping your thighs like they’re lifelines. Then you brace yourself and reach back—

Mello pushes in slowly. Gritting his teeth. “Jesus, fuck—”

You’re full. Too full. Both of them buried deep in you, your whole body trembling as you try to breathe around the feeling. They don’t move. Just pant. Wait.

“Move,” Mello growls. “Please.”

You do. It starts slow—grinding your hips, feeling both of them rub against your walls, your insides pulsing around them. Mello thrusts once, sharp. You cry out. Near groans softly, his head tipped back.

You ride Near with long, rolling motions, your clit brushing against his stomach. Mello fucks into you harder now, faster, his hands sliding up your spine. One of his fingers tangles in your hair, pulling just enough to make your breath catch.

“You’re taking it,” he growls. “So fucking good.”

“She’s very warm,” Near says softly. “Tight. Applying correct amount of pressure.”

“You say that like you’re grading an assignment,” Mello snaps, but his voice cracks on the last word. He’s close. So close.

You’re shaking now—full, stretched to your limits, Near seated deep inside you while Mello drives in from behind, his pace steady but cruel, testing your limits.

You’re not just between them—you’re the bridge. Their bodies only joined through yours. And they’re not giving in easily.

“I don’t see how this is supposed to help,” Mello growls against your shoulder. His breath is ragged, cock twitching inside you with every grind. “He’s not even touching you right.”

Near blinks up at you from below, cheeks flushed, hands tightening on your waist. “Incorrect. Her pupils dilate when I stroke her clit counterclockwise.”

You laugh through a gasp. “He’s not wrong.”

Near’s thumb slides between you, slow and exact, pressing just under your clit in a way that makes your body jerk. Mello’s grip tightens. You feel the cuff pulse with magic, heat flaring between their wrists like it knows they’re teetering.

You roll your hips forward, squeezing both of them from inside. Mello groans. “Shit—don’t do that—”

You smile, breathless. “You close already?”

“I’m not—” he growls, but he thrusts harder, desperate to regain control.

Near’s voice is thin now. “I believe your pelvic rhythm is faltering.”

You moan, sharp, overstimulated now. Near’s cock presses deliciously against that tender spot inside you, and Mello’s rutting deep, his thrusts rough enough to make you tremble.

“Come on Mello, prove you’re better,” you whisper. “Fuck me harder.”

That does it.

Mello grabs your hips and slams into you, rhythm quickening, chasing something now. You gasp, clutching Near’s shoulders, your body caught between them like a live wire. The air smells like sweat and sex and magic burning out.

Your moan cuts them off—high and broken, thighs trembling as your orgasm threatens again, creeping up, so damn close.

You clench around both of them. They both twitch. You slow your movement just enough to make them groan.

“Don’t stop,” Mello growls, panting now. “I swear to god—”

“She’s edging us,” Near says, tone somehow still flat.

“She’s gonna kill us.”

You’re close. But you don’t let go yet.

You slow it down again—grind forward, rolling your hips just right. Near twitches inside you, whimpering, his forehead pressed to your chest.

You glance over your shoulder. Mello’s watching you both like he’s been denied air. You lean back into him, and he licks a stripe up your spine. He’s losing control. You can feel it.

“She’s gonna cum,” he pants. “You can feel it. She’s—fuck—she’s squeezing so hard—”

“We have to time it,” Near gasps.

“I know.”

Mello’s hand snakes around you, joining Near’s, both thumbs pressing your clit now in rhythm. You scream—raw and real—as your orgasm surges up, almost there—

But you don’t fall- Not yet. You ride the edge. Over and over. Your body clenching, thighs shaking, everything strung tight as they both work you toward it. One more second. One more thrust. One more slow, circling press—

And then Mello snaps.

“Now—fuck—now—”

Near arches under you, voice breaking.

And you let go.

It hits like fire—every nerve bursting open, you're clamping down, you scream—legs shaking, body convulsing around them as you lock down hard, milking them. as both of them cry out, twitching inside you, pouring into you, their hands locking on your body as they lose everything.

The cuffs explode.

A flash of white light. A high-pitched crack. Metal hitting the floor with twin clinks.

You collapse, limp and slick with sweat, breath heaving in your throat.

Mello slumps forward, panting against your back.

Near goes still beneath you, eyes closed, his chest rising and falling fast, but even.

Nobody speaks. Until—

“You edged me for fifteen minutes,” Mello says, voice hoarse.

You smile. “You needed the attitude adjustment.”

“She’s... efficient,” Near murmurs.

You roll off them with a groan. “I need water”

No one moves for a while. Then Mello says, “You’re seriously not gonna look at me right now, are you?”

“I’m preserving what little sanity I have left,” Near murmurs.

“You literally came while I was inside her.”

“So did you.”

“I hate this.”

From the hallway, you hear:

“Yo, did it work?” Matt’s voice. “Are the chains off?”

Mello throws the broken cuff at him. “I hope your controller gets stuck on ‘up.’”

Matt grins and ducks. You laugh. Your thighs hurt. Your whole body aches. But the cuffs are gone. “Next time he plays matchmaker, I’m burning the Archive.”

#death note #death note x reader #death note smut #death note mello #near death note #death note near x reader #death note near #mello death note #mihael keehl #nate river #death note imagine #mello x reader smut #mello x reader #near x reader #deathnote

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fckwritersblock · 3 months ago

Text

Something More…

Jinwoo Sung x Black Reader

Description: Drabble. Unedited AF. No real plot, it kind of just starts. A piece I was debating on whether or not I should turn this into something more but for now this is what I got.

A/n: I’ve been in my anime bag heavy lately and I just started bingeing solo leveling since I’ve been sick the past few days. Maybe that’s why I’ve been feeling angsty. Anywho enjoy

---

“Fuck me?!” Jinwoo exclaimed, disbelief etched on his face as he stormed out of his room, hot on your heels.

“Yes! Fuck you, Jinwoo!” You shot back, eyes blazing with anger. You pivoted sharply, jabbing a finger at him, each step you took toward him echoing with the weight of their unresolved issues. “You think I’m jealous of your newfound success? As if I’m the one who’s been blowing you off and acting different—”

“All of a sudden your the victim” Jinwoo interrupted, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he crossed his arms defensively, desperately trying to shield himself from the confrontation., trying to mask his own insecurities with bravado.

“Kiss my ass, Jinwoo! I’ve never needed somebody to come and save me!” Your voice was low and fierce, teeth clenched as you hastily shoved items into your duffle bag, the fabric crumpling under the pressure of you frustration. Each piece you packed felt like a part of your friendship being discarded.

“I knew it, I knew you always thought I was weak. That I needed you to save me. Without Y/n, poor helpless Jinwoo would be—”

“Oh, go to hell!” Your voice rose, filled with raw emotion. “That’s never been me and you know it. Who has had your back the entire time? Who has done everything in their power to make sure you come back to your sister alive? Me! Who has encouraged you, pushed you to see how bright you shine in the world before you even became…” you flailed her hands, searching for the right words, “whatever the hell you are now? Me! And you have the nerve to make it seem like your new found power is my problem?!”

“I didn’t mean—” Jinwoo tried to backtrack, the realization of his words crashing down on him as he saw the hurt swirling in your eyes.

“Yes, the fuck you did!” You practically screamed, her voice breaking with emotion. “I couldn’t figure out why you’d been so distant, so cold. Even now you’re standing there trying to hurt me. Me! But now I see it’s because I’m not constantly stroking your ego!”

“Y/n,” he pleaded, reaching for you, but you recoiled, your anger a shield around your heart. Jinwoo wanted to de-escalate the situation, but it was too far gone.

“I’ve always been in your corner, Jinwoo! I’ve always been your biggest fan!” Your voice trembled, the raw vulnerability beneath your anger breaking through the surface. “ Somehow you’ve become this power hungry hunter who won a little bit of attention from some girl and you let it change everything! I always thought we’d… I thought we meant something more.” You paused, swallowing hard against the lump in your throat, fighting to keep your composure. “But I know better now. As much as I want to blame you for making me feel…making me believe, I fucking knew. I always knew, I was foolish to think you could ever love me the way that I love you.”

The confession hung in the air like a heavy fog, and Jinwoo froze, the weight of your words crashing over him like a tidal wave. He hadn’t prepared for this moment, and the paralysis of shock rooted him to the spot. His mouth opened, but no words came—he couldn’t even move as you snatched your keys from the counter, your expression a mask of pain and fury as you gave him one last look before turning to leave.

“Y/n, wait!” he finally managed to stammer, but you were already out the door, slamming it behind you with a force that reverberated through the stillness of the apartment.

Silence enveloped him, the chaos of the argument replaced by a deafening void. He remained rooted to the spot, his heart racing as disbelief and guilt waged war within him. He could hear the soft sound of footsteps approaching and turned to see his little sister, Jinah, standing in the doorway, her expression a mix of disappointment and concern.

“Oppa… you screwed up,” she said softly, the weight of her words sinking deep into him.

“Yeah, Jinah… I screwed up,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, the gravity of his actions settling heavily on his shoulders. He felt like he had lost not just a friend, but a part of himself, leaving him hollow and yearning for a chance to make things right.

#black!reader #black female reader #solo leveling #jinwoo sung x reader #sung jinwoo x reader #jinwoo sung x black!reader #black anime girl #black reader imagine #solo leveling imagine #solo leveling fanfic #black writer #solo leveling x reader #solo leveling x reader fics #solo leveling x black!reader

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sushis-wild-imagination · 1 year ago

Text

Seventeen and first dates (all members)

More like this on Seventeen Masterlist <3 Requests are open! Genre: FLUFF

→ Choi Seungcheol

“You do look like a fish” he says.

You and cheol were walking around in an aquarium as your first official date. You both have been really close friends for a while before you decided to finally give into your feelings and see where it goes with each other.

You couldn’t be happier, cheol really was the best thing that happened to you, even friendship wise. The sweetest boy.

“Look, that looks exactly like you” he points to ansilly looking fish through the glass.

You put you lips out and pout like a fish.

“Close your eyes; you look exactly like this fish behind you,”

You giggle at that, you’ve never been told you look like a fish and that made you laugh,

“let me take a picture” he says.

You stand at the glass, with your lips out and eyes closed. After two clicks you feel someone in front of you and a pair of lips, pecking yours.

“Hey!” You were fully red. It was your first kiss with him. It was playful and so sweet. Nothing like you imagined but a 100 times cuter, innocent.

“Sue me! I stole a kiss” he says running away from you while you chase him.

“Come back here”

→Yoon Jeonghan

“You can’t eat anything if you don’t catch anything!,” jeonghan tells you while you stand at this pool like area for fishes.

You and Jeonghan confessed quite mutually to each other that you liked each other. All your friends could see it, how you would kick your feet at his messages and how he would giggle at yours. You weren’t just friends.

“You’ll let your girlfriend starve?” You ask acting offended.

He pauses for a second and scans you top to bottom.

“Yes”

You playfully smack him while the fish catching turns into a competition about who catches more fish. At the end of the night you had 6 fishes you caught, and you couldn't possibly eat 6 fishes so you gave some away to the kids who couldn’t catch any.

“If this is how we were going to catch fish, I would’ve taken you fishing instead”

“I am somewhat of a master fisherman myself”

You giggle at the reference.

→ Hong Joshua

You’ve liked joshua ever since he transfered to you school in high school. He was your bench mate and it wasn’t a long time before you fell for his charm, he was a handsome boy with such a kind heart. You still had an umbrella he gave you to use.

You met him again at a reunion after years and the group of friends planned to go to an amusement park that weekend at the reunion.

Seeing him again, after years set you off with some feelings, all unresolved.

You reached the amusement park as a group but little did you know it was a set up and suddenly you and Joshua were left alone.

You ended up touring the entire park, you realised he was the same crazy shua you knew and liked. Everything he did made you laugh.

“Here!” He says and hands you a bracelet he won shooting at balloons.

“A souvenir from our first date” he adds.

You look up at him in surprise.

“First date?”

“Unless you don’t want it to be”

“No, of course, I like that”

“Good”

‘Our first date’ rang in your head the rest of the day.

→ Moon Junhui

This was the first time you had gone over to your boyfriend, Jun's apartment. He liked decorating his apartment and interior design, his apartment was full of decorative items, you went through them all. it was fascinating how much you realise of a person just by seeing how they decorate their spaces.

Jun had called you over for a home cooked meal that he was so confident about. He was so excited to make you this Malapot that he knows he makes the best. He wanted to almost show off to you and impress you with his food.

You were excited for the food too, just listening to him talk about it made you drool when you made the plan.

"Ah it's ruined" you hear jun's voice from the kitchen.

"What's wrong?" you walk over.

"Somethings wrong, it's not tasting the way it's supposed to" he says dejected. You go over and he gives you a spoonful of broth from the pot. It was quite flavourful.

"It's good Jun, what's wrong?" you ask again.

"It's good, not great, I can do so much better" he was very disappointed. He just wanted you to enjoy his food and like his food.

"I'll eat anything you make junnie" you say hugging his side while his eyes never leave the pot in front of him.

You force him to look at you.

"There's always a next time, I'm not going anywhere"

He finally smiles.

→ Kwon Hoshi

You were cycling with your boyfriend of 1 week, hoshi. You met at a fashion show and immediately clicked. You fell for his goofy personality and felt this urge to protect him from the world.

He asked you out first and you happily agreed. Both of you had some feelings some flirtatious text messages happening between the two of you.

But today you could taste blood, he was cycling way too hard and you couldn’t catch up.

He was a little ahead of you while you volunteered to crash in the grass to relax, you would’ve died if you went on for a little longer.

You were panting while the tiger came back to you to check if you are okay.

“Cycling is too hard” you say between laboured breaths.

“You have no stamina” he smirks suggesting something completely different.

It was your chance to chase him down for that comment.

“We’ll see” you blush but also respond sassily chasing him in the grass.

→ Jeon Wonwoo

Jeon Wonwoo, your next door neighbour that had taken a liking to you, has made it routine to pick you up from office everyday, so you could go back home together.

You were still unsure about dating him and he gave you all the time in the world to come to a decision.

You wanted to surprise him today, by agreeing to date him. You had spent a lot of time together and he was a sweet guy. You were just scared of something, past relationships weren’t exactly a flower path. He understood that.

You came out of your office building, to see wonwoo, hopefully your soon to be boyfriend, waiting at his bike.

“Did you wait for too long?”

He smiles. “I’ll wait forever, if its for you”

Maybe you don’t have to wait anymore.

You take a deep breath and take his hands in yours.

“Listen, I had to talk to you about something”

His body language changes and he’s almost nervous. You fidget with his thumb, very embarrassed and shy.

“Whats wrong?” He asks getting concerned at how you couldn’t make eye contact with him.

“I gave us a thought”

He visibly freezes. Like he’s preparing himself for anything thats to come.

“I like you Wonwoo, I know I’ve been scared but Im ready to get through that”

There is a glowing smile on his face. “I’ll treat you so well, I promise” his hand pats your hair. It makes you feel safe and reassured.

“So girlfriend?” He asks putting your helmet on you and buckling up for you.

Him calling you girlfriend sets your chest on fire.

“Yes, boyfriend” you squeak out, not used to this.

“Let me take you to the moon, our first date”

“I’ll go anywhere with you” you say softly, getting on his bike.

→ Lee Jihoon

Jihoon was a schoolmate first, your co worker second, he recommended you at the company you work at now. You became close with him being the only person you knew. Soon, this closeness turned into romantic feelings. You couldn’t get him out of your head.

You asked him out, you straight up told him, you like him and what he thinks about it. It was the first time you had seen him speechless. He took a minute to collect himself before he said “sure” and you started dating. Although his demeanour may seem as if he doesn’t care but you know he likes you too. There has been multiple times jihoon has gone out of his way to help you blend into your work and otherwise.

“Our first dinner in the studio” he said and it made you smile. You like when he says ‘ours’

“You never let me eat in the studio, how cone today you called me here”

His face turns red before he answers. “I thought it’ll be rude to have your girlfriend eat out while I work in the studio”

It was your turn to turn red. You mutter “cute” under your breath.

The power suddenly shuts down and the whole room goes pitch black. Jihoon steps out to see if its just his studio.

“I think something wrong with the generator on this wing” he says sitting next to you on the couch while you gobble up the food you brought for the both of you.

You hear him sigh and carefully lay his hesd on your shoulder.

“Are you tired?”

He shakes his head cuddling closer, you never took him for a cuddler but its like a cat, if a cat CHOOSES you to cuddle, you shouldn’t move. Thats exactly what you did.

You turn on the light on your phone and set it on the coffee table next to your food.

“Torch light dinner”

You hear him chuckle at that while you offer him some food almost feeding him.

You hoped the light never came back and this stayed like this forever.

→ Seo Myungho

You ran an art workshop where you met Minghao for the first time. You didn’t know what he did and who he was until you saw your pictures plastered all over the internet one day.

He was the first to say he likes you. You liked him too, he brought perspective to your life and you loved that about him.

You and him were at a library having a relaxed date but the thing is you suggested going to a library when you didn’t even read.

You look over at hao, sitting by the window completely immersed in his book, he looked gorgeous. You pick out a comic to read from the shelf. You were a bad reader, even comics bored you after a while. But since Hao liked reading you thought you can enjoy it too. You sat next to him on the couch he was at.

You flipped through the pages and almost got bored instantly.

“Trouble reading?” You hear a whisper next to you.

You look up, not being able to manage this front you put on to impress him.

This was the second time he caught you looking bored.

“I’ll be honest, I’ve never been a reader”

“Everyone’s a reader, you just haven’t found the right book yet”

He’s so wise and calm, he brings stability to your chaos. He suggested a book you might like and he was right, you were immediately hooked to the premise and discovered that you like the thriller genre that doesn’t let you put your book down.

→ Kim Mingyu

“Are you sure you don’t want anything?”

You shake your head no. Kim Mingyu was a random guy you bumped into at a coffee shop you frequented at. You madecthe first move and dared to ask his number.

Turns out he was the sweetest guy you had spoken to in 4 years. He really reset your brain and suddenly you just wanted to do everything in your power to see where things go. You felt an instant connection you didn’t want to let go of and regret later. You decided you’d go for it.

Kim mingyu comes back to your car, you and him decide to watch a screening of cars 2 in a drive in theatre. You have never been to one and he was excited to show you.

As soon as he opens his package of food, the air is filled with the smell of burrito. It makes you hungry as soon as it hits your nose. But you already told him you didn’t want any, and asking for even a bite felt criminal.

But you were subconsciously staring at his food.

“You’re staring y:n” he calls you out.

You immediately snap out of it and look away, muttering a quick sorry under your breath.

You see him dig into his package and pull out another burrito wrap.

“This is for you” he hands you a wrap.

“No, Im really fine” you defend yourself again, but you were so so hungry.

“I know what ‘im fine’ means y/n, it means you’ll get hungry when you watch me eat” he says smiling like the big puppy he is.

You can’t help but give in, you take a wrap from him smiling sheepishly. He really was the best.

“You eat so well, it could make anyone hungry” you say cutely while he gobbled up his burrito in literally 2 bites. It was insane to watch this man eat.

He pats your head softly.

“HEY! Burrito hands!” You squeal while he laughs.

→ Lee Dokyeom

You and Dokyeom were cycling in the park. It was one of your first dates. You had met him at a coffee shop,ordering something you also liked so he offered to pay for yours too.

Here you were on another date with the goofball. The original plan was to bicycle around the park and get some lunch at a picnic spot.

But, as with dokyeom, he fell off his bike showing off some ‘cool’ moves to you. Although he made you laugh but the fall looked bad. You ended up getting him some ice from the store to press on his wrist.

“This is very normal”

“What do you mean?”

"I was a very… curious kid, i’d put my feet out on the road as a car would pass, just to see how it feels” you laugh out loud at that. “That’s hilarious”

“At least this is making you hold my hand” he says looking down at your hands pressing his with ice while your other hand hold his wrist in place.

This realisation makes your ears go red.

→ Boo Seungkwan

“I can’t believe it” seungkwan exclaims.

You met seungkwan as a trainee and you had become fast friends. But life happened and you decided not to be a trainee anymore. You ended up going for artist management and becoming a manager.

Life had plans of its own when they assigned you to seungkwan and your friendship rekindled. This time the friendship took a step further and you started to love spending time with him laughing with him.

One fine day in the car you blurted out that you liked him while driving him to a solo schedule. To your surprise he reciprocated these feelings. You were the happiest girl that day.

“What what happened?” You ask. You and seungkwan had come hiking to a mountain close to his place.

“My pants tore”

You laugh out loud. “What a memorable first date” you continue laughing while he scurries to cover himself with his bag and a towel he had brought in his little backpack.

“What a story, ‘kids, your dad hiked so hard, his pants tore on our first date’” you laugh thinking about the anecdote you have now you can use. Its a funny story.

“You want to have kids with me?” He asks stopping what he did and looks up at you

You freeze at what had just come out of your mouth. You did not mean it like that but now that you think about it definitely sounded like you wanted to have his babies.

“Um..”

“Thats cute” he says and a sense of relief washes over you as you try to come up with something else to catch the subject STAT.

→ Choi Vernon

Vernon wanted to watch this scary movie and you liked him so much you just wanted to be with him. But you forgot how scary scary movies can become.

Half way through the movie you were flinching and just uncomfortable in your seat, it really felt like someone was going to grab your feet from under the seat.

Seeing you this uncomfortable, vernon casually decided to put his arm around you and cover your eyes for you while you covered your ears with both your hands to protect yourself from jumpscares.

This position automatically made you lean into him a little and it made you feel a million types of a ways. He smelled good was the only consistent thought.

“Are you okay?” He asks leaning into your ears and whispering.

It sent a shiver down your spine. You nod without being able to push out any words. You liked being this close to him. ‘The things you do to me Choi Vernon’ you think to yourself.

You could watch a thousand horror movies if this is how you watch it.

→ Lee Chan

“Its burnt!” He exclaimed looking at the marshmellow you decided to toast for yourself.

“Thats the flavour!” You defend. You liked slightly burnt marshmallows.

You and chan are childhood friends that ended up falling for each other. Your way of showing love was through constant banter.

One such banter, Chan ended up confessing his feelings for you and you found it so cute.

You move away to get some crackers for the marshmallows. As you come back you hear a scream.

“Whats wrong whats wrong?” You panic and rush to him. You see Chan holding his fingers out and hissing in pain.

You immediately take his hand to inspect.

You see that it was a little red, he probably burnt himself. You see him think for a second. He is going to say something funny, you knew that look on his face, trying to cook up a joke.

“I burnt myself so you’ll like me” he said dramatically looking into your eyes.

The lamest joke ever made you laugh so hard, only because it was Chan who said it.

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