#Four Characters in Search of a Plot | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

moonlinos · 10 months ago

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It would’ve been sweet if it could’ve been me

♡ Pairing: Bang Chan × fem!reader

♡ Genre: Single dad!Chan, friends to strangers to lovers

♡ CW: Explicit sexual content (minors dni!), mentions of parental guilt, themes of loneliness, Chan is stuck in the past, lying, mentions of feeling lost in life, story spans over a number of years, nipple play, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected sex, creampie

♡ Word count: 8.2k

♡ Synopsis: Being a single dad to Hyerin is all Chan has known for the past four years. He and his ex-girlfriend reached an agreement that saw her going off to live a life she had always dreamed of while he was left with a life of loneliness, which he endured with a smile on his face for his daughter. A small gleam of hope seems to appear in his life in the shape of you. But hiding himself under a haze of lies seems to be his only option if he ever wants to keep you.

♡ A/N: Based off a request by anon! Thank you for requesting, this was so much fun to write 🩷 I will admit this is a lot more focused on Chan as a character than I originally wanted it to be, and I kinda went a bit crazy with the plot, but I hope you still like it! The song Chan sings to Hyerin is Little Star by Standing Egg 💗

Every day in Chan’s life is a monotonous, never-ending cycle. Like watching reruns of bad TV shows on gloomy Sunday nights, every second of his past and upcoming days is etched into his mind like a quilt of mundane tasks and repetitive moments.

But that wasn’t always the case.

Once, excitement filled his every waking moment. His weekends were a whirlwind of new places teeming with bustling crowds and unfamiliar faces who became fast friends. During his university years, he and his friends lived their lives with ardor, savoring every moment as if it could be their last. His days were filled with an array of unplanned parties and impromptu trips which brought a kaleidoscope of color to his life.

Until he met Dana.

He was about to graduate, and she swept into his life like a hurricane — flipping everything upside down before disappearing just as quickly, with only destruction and ashes remaining in her wake.

He was infatuated; she was bored. That was clear from the start, but Chan was too blinded by affection to be concerned with such a minute detail. So long as he got to have her by his side, he was happy. Their relationship lasted a year, yet it changed his life forever.

He was twenty-one when Dana announced her pregnancy. On his twenty-second birthday, she told him she didn’t want to be a mother.

By that point in his life, Chan had already forsaken everything he had for her. He turned his back on his old friends, the vibrant life he once led, and everything that once made him who he was. Without Dana, he would be left with nothing but the ugly reflection of his self-destructive choices made in the name of a loveless love.

And so, they came to an agreement. Dana would leave — that had been her plan from the start, anyway — but she would leave Chan with a small piece of their story.

Hyerin was born on November 20th, 2019.

Dana left on a plane to New York City on December 1st.

Now, the only speck of color in his life is Hyerin. In the four years Chan has been lucky enough to be her dad, he has found she is much more than simply a reminder of Dana or what could have been between them. Hyerin is his entire world. She is the love he’s unknowingly been searching for his whole life, and he would sacrifice every last bit of himself to make sure she only ever knows happiness.

They live a quiet life, with Chan working a less-than-fulfilling corporate job and spending all his free time with her. He sometimes allows himself to wonder what happened to his old friends — did they all eventually settle for the mundanity of adult life, or are they still chasing an endless thrill? But he never dwells on it too much. The sweet memories of his early twenties are now nothing more than a comforting escape when the weight of loneliness becomes too overwhelming.

Today is one of those days. A late Friday night after his shift, Chan sprawled on his couch with Jisung, a co-worker who became his first friend after many years, a silly smile on his face as he reminisced about a trip to Jeju in his sophomore year of college. This is how he lives most of his life; when he’s not in the present with Hyerin, he’s stuck in the past.

How could he not be stuck in the past? So many people he loved and memories he cherished were there.

“I don’t get how you just left all of that behind for someone,” Jisung scoffs, loosening his tie. “Why couldn’t she just join your group of friends?”

“It’s complicated,” Chan sighs, eyes wandering toward Hyerin’s bedroom door for the umpteenth time to make sure she’s still sleeping soundly. When he turns to look back at Jisung, his expression prompts him to elaborate. “What? You want the whole story?”

Jisung shrugs. “It’s not like we have any other plans for tonight.”

“Well, there was this girl in my friend group. We hooked up a lot, but our relationship went beyond that,” Chan explains, fingers tapping his thighs as the memories flood his mind. It was a sore topic, one he certainly didn’t enjoy remembering. “We never dated, but Dana was jealous, and I couldn’t blame her. Me and this girl were… very close. I couldn’t be in a relationship while also being that close to her, but I also couldn’t imagine us being only friends. So it was easier to walk away.”

Chan conveniently leaves out the fact that he walked away because an artificial love strangely provided solace for his heart, unlike the searing torment of unrequited love, which engulfed him like molten lava.

“And that was the last time you ever had that type of relationship with anyone?”

“With Dana? Yeah—”

“Hyung, you know what I mean. You told me yourself Dana didn’t love you,” Jisung points out. “I mean this other girl.”

Chan shrugs dismissively. “I guess, yeah. Doesn’t matter, though.”

And Jisung scoffs loudly at his words, rubbing his forehead with a sigh. Memories of that love flood Chan’s mind, and he's ready to let them sweep him away when Jisung abruptly turns so he sits facing him, resolve swimming in his eyes.

“Give me your phone,” his loud voice reverberates through the small apartment, prompting Chan to shush him with a stern look. “Give me your phone,” Jisung repeats himself with a harsh whisper.

Chan rolls his eyes but ultimately smiles at his friend. He retrieves his phone from the end table, handing it to a much too enthusiastic Jisung. “The password is Hyerin’s birthday,” he tells him, albeit a bit apprehensive.

He watches amusedly as Jisung types away at his own phone before doing the same on his, handing him the device with a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

“What did you do, you little menace?” Chan questions the younger boy, narrowing his eyes. Jisung simply shrugs.

“I got you a date tomorrow. Thank me later.”

Chan immediately sits up on the couch, eyes darting toward his phone screen. A chat with a single message from him to an unknown contact makes him question his entire friendship with Jisung.

Me: I’m your date for tomorrow 😉 Me: O’neul restaurant, 6 pm. See you there, cutie

“Jisung, what the fuck?”

“What?” His friend asks between giggles. “Sora has this friend she said desperately needs a date, and I have you in the same situation,” he explains, clearly proud of himself. “I just did you both a favor while also getting boyfriend points.”

Chan’s eyes shift toward his phone once more, inwardly cringing at the messages with a heavy sigh.

“And was making me sound this creepy necessary?”

Jisung waves his hand dismissively. “Nah, that was just a little treat for me.”

“And why the fuck is her name Mystery Girl?” Chan queries, the irritation making him unknowingly raise his voice.

“It’s a blind date,” his friend explains. “This girl’s apparently super picky, kept turning down every guy Sora suggested. So, she came up with this solution. Can’t turn you down if she doesn’t know what you look like.”

Chan groans, ultimately sinking back onto the couch with a defeated sigh. Jisung was trying to be a good friend, he knew that, but he wasn’t at all thrilled with the prospect of a date. Not only did he not want one, but he also had no time for such a futile thing. He had Hyerin, and she was the sole reason for his existence. He didn’t need anyone meddling in their little world. But he didn’t have the courage to tell Jisung that.

It would be a lie to say the past four years weren’t lonesome. Falling asleep alone in a cold, empty bed was a sorrow he had simply grown numb to. Yet, he still yearned to have someone to share the grapples of routine life with, someone whose presence alone would effortlessly diminish his worries, someone he could make love to before falling asleep and waking up intertwined.

But he couldn’t afford to have that.

At least this date was bound to fail; the woman’s demanding nature, coupled with Chan’s unwillingness to even be there in the first place sure to make their wasted time brief.

Just as he’s about to grumble about the messages again, Hyerin comes stumbling out of her room, her small feet shuffling against the floor as she rubs her sleepy eyes.

“Oh, honey, were we being too loud?” Chan asks sweetly, and his eyes discreetly shoot daggers at Jisung, who mouths an apology.

Hyerin firmly shakes her head, the crooked pigtails Chan clumsily had tied this morning coming undone as she does so. He smiles at her, propping his elbows on his knees and waiting for her to speak her little mind.

“I had a dream,” she mumbles. “With a dragon.”

Chan gasps, hands wrapping around her tiny frame and picking her up before walking toward her room. It took him some time, but he ultimately learned that it’s best to ease her back into bed while she’s distracted, lest she throws a tantrum.

“And was it a nice dragon?” He asks. Hyerin giggles, and Chan is positive that the sound has the power to light up even his most somber days.

“Of course it was a nice dragon, daddy,” she tells him. “You said I only have nice dreams ‘cause my mind is pretty, remember?”

Chan nods as he gently tucks her back into bed, triple-checking that she is comfortable and warm. “Of course, of course. How could I forget?” He slaps a hand on his forehead with a sigh. “Hyerinnie has the prettiest mind. It can only make up pretty things.”

Hyerin smiles at him, tugging her blanket close to her chin, her doe eyes already heavy with sleep and blinking languidly. Chan asks her the same question he does every night, although the answer remains unchanging every time: would she like him to sing to her? She drowsily tells him she wants to hear him sing her favorite song, Little Star.

Chan promptly gets under the covers beside her — Hyerin pouting and whining about how he’s stealing her blanket for himself, to which he can’t help the hearty laugh that escapes his lips. Since turning four, she’s developed quite a strong personality that Chan soon finds he adores, much like everything about her.

He turns on his side to watch her features as he sings; her nose and mouth so similar to his, and the way she furrows her brows while falling asleep mirrors his own habits. Chan might not be a happy man in his job or his personal life, but the boundless happiness his little gift provides him surpasses anything else he could wish for. Every now and then, he finds himself wanting more, but it’s not long before he realizes he already has everything he needs.

Chan goes over his rather extensive list of how to care for Hyerin with Jisung for the tenth time that evening, making sure the younger man knows what to do in any situation that could arise in the couple hours he’ll be gone. Hyerin is the one to usher him out of the apartment, assuring him she’ll be fine with her uncle Han, and Chan has to stop himself from wallowing over the fact that his once tiny baby is rapidly blossoming into a young kid.

He made no real effort to dress for his date; a simple button-up shirt and jeans served him just fine, seeing as he plans to return home as soon as possible. His date and he haven’t talked much at all since his initial texts yesterday, texting each other only to confirm the time and place of their basically forced date.

He arrives fifteen minutes late, all but running from the bus stop to the restaurant while cursing Jisung under his breath. This was definitely not worth the hassle, and Chan wanted nothing more than to be back at home with his daughter. He’d pick watching Tangled with her for the hundredth time over an unwanted date in a heartbeat.

Chan finally walks into the restaurant, informing the waiter that he’s there to meet Cherry. His face visibly grimaces as he mutters the words. Fuck this blind date bullshit.

He’s led to his table, dragging his feet behind the waiter. His attention is immediately drawn to the pencil holding his date’s messy ponytail together. He chuckles quietly, circling around the table and forcing out a smile to introduce himself.

But then he’s met with a sight he had long given up hope of ever seeing again: you.

You, who were next to him as he made stupid decisions during college. Like when he drunkenly thought it wise to bet his laptop in a game of beer pong.

You, who always made him your special hangover soup after a party. He especially loved it when you let him keep the leftovers, knowing that he and his roommate were hopeless in the kitchen.

You, who filled the space in his cold sheets with warmth and always made his bed feel like a sanctuary.

You, who let him make love to you despite you both swearing to be only friends.

You, who later had to watch him walk away from you like a coward, driven by sheer fear.

You, staring back at him with a stunned look on your face.

“Chan?” You ask, an unsure lilt to your words.

And Chan embarrassingly fumbles over his words, his tongue tying itself into knots in front of you. He notices you pursing your lips to stop from giggling and clears his throat a bit too loudly, a few patrons turning their heads to look at him. But he can’t bring himself to care, not when it seems the universe has turned the wheels of his fate in his favor for once.

“Uh, hi,” is all his brain can muster among the jumble of thoughts inside his head. He mentally berates himself for acting so damn awkward when you’re clearly not as affected by this encounter as he is.

“Damn, it’s been so long,” you marvel, eyes not leaving his face for a second. “I thought you moved to a different country or something. It’s so strange how we never ran into each other.”

Chan forces out a chuckle, hands now fiddling with the menu on the table. Of course you two never ran into each other; he only ever leaves the house for work or when he has to accompany Hyerin, and he doubts you frequent playgrounds or zoos.

“Yeah, I… don’t go out much anymore,” he simply says.

You hum, and he properly takes in your appearance. You haven’t changed one bit; from your hair to your choice of clothes, you’re still the same girl who ruled over his every thought during college.

You two order your food and fall into an infuriating cycle of small talk. Chan doesn’t want to talk about the weather or if you have seen the latest movie yet — he’s desperate to ask you how you’ve been, if you ever pursued your dreams, if you can still outdrink anyone in your friend group, and—

And if you’re still single because you find relationships a hassle.

But as the food arrives, you fall into an even more frustrating cycle: silence. Chan feels restless, squirming in his seat every few minutes while you calmly eat and watch the people around you. He remembers your habit of scanning crowded rooms and making up stories for strangers with your vivid imagination. He wants to ask if you still do that, but it seems he’s only grown into more of a coward since your last encounter.

You’re the first to break the silence, waiting for the waiter to leave with your plates to ask what Chan has been doing since graduating. It’s a casual question with no weight to your words, as lighthearted as you have always been. And the complete opposite of his every possible answer.

How can he tell you he’s given up music altogether, now surrounded by gray walls and lifeless faces in his corporate job? How can he tell you he’s alone most of the time, partly by choice and partly because he doesn’t know how to dig himself out of this comfortable hole he’s trapped himself in?

How can he possibly explain that he agreed to be a single father, sacrificing his own happiness for the selfish whims of a woman who never even loved him?

You’re still the same; the same carefree eyes and attitude, same easygoing approach to everything life throws your way — such as meeting him again after years.

All of him has changed.

Chan can’t tarnish your colorful life, can’t sit before you and spill out his problems or grumble about the overwhelming loneliness in his life when he knows damn well that was a consequence of his own choices.

He wants nothing more than to be the same Chan he was in college. Creating life stories for strangers in dive bars with you, not caring about whether he’ll have enough money to pay the water bill next month, not having to bear the burden of something as precious as a human life depending solely on him.

It’s selfish, but he wants nothing more than to go back.

So he does.

“I actually still write songs, though it’s only a freelance thing,” he lies. He hasn’t written a single note in years. “Other than that, I’ve just been taking it day by day. Same as I’ve always done, I guess.”

And your eyes immediately light up — you’ve always loved his songs, after all. Your conversation flows much like it used to in the past after that, with you making witty jokes and Chan laughing loudly at them. You tell him you started working as an art teacher for the elderly when living off of commissions became impossible, and that you adore the stories they share about their younger years. They remind you of your own stories together, you admit with a genuine smile.

Your conversation is endless, continuing even as Chan walks you to your car in the empty parking lot. The night has grown colder, and the crescent moon gleaming in the sky above him almost feels like a sign that things will change for the better.

As you two stand in front of your car, a smile tugs at the corner of your lips. Ever the free soul, you ask him outright if he would like to come back to your place. There are no further implications hidden in your request beyond a hookup. Nothing’s ever heavy with you, every little thing always feeling light as a feather.

He says he would love to, but quickly excuses himself under the guise of calling his roommate about the spare key. Chan hurriedly calls Jisung as soon as he turns a corner in the parking lot, ensuring you won’t be able to hear him. It’s juvenile, the way he’s actually taking pleasure in almost creating a different version of himself — a version much closer to who he was when you were his, at least in some sense of the word. He’s a father, he should be responsible and dependable, but the weight of that role had been thrust upon him far too abruptly. He can’t be faulted for wanting to go back in time.

“Okay, I have no time to explain,” he blurts out as soon as Jisung picks up the phone. “Would it be too much to ask you to stay the night?”

Jisung chuckles at the other end of the line. “Damn, was the date that good?”

Chan ignores his sly comment, because yes, the date was everything he never thought it could be.

“I’ll be back first thing in the morning,” he assures him. “I’ll even pay you if you want. How much—”

“Hey, no need for that,” Jisung cuts him off. “You know I love looking after Hyerin.”

And the pang of guilt inside his chest at the mention of his daughter’s name almost knocks the air out of his lungs. He feels ashamed, as if he’s neglecting his daughter for a hookup, going after a fantasy that has long crumbled and faded away.

“How is she? Is she okay?” He asks, guilt washing over him like a wave. He hadn’t thought of his daughter for a second that entire night. “Did she cry at all? Did she notice I was gone for longer than I promised?”

Jisung calls out his name with a chuckle, prompting him to stop his rambling. “Relax. We painted each other’s nails, she did my makeup, had her dinner, and is now sleeping soundly after listening to another one of uncle Han’s phenomenal stories about frogs,” He details, causing a hearty laugh to fall from Chan’s lips at the image of Jisung’s face painted with Hyerin’s cheap children’s makeup. His friend then adds, “Go get laid, man.”

And so Chan hangs up the phone, all but running toward your figure waiting by your car. You smile at him, taking his hand and pulling him into a tight embrace. It’s the first time he holds you in almost five years, and he feels his dull world away from Hyerin slowly fill up with vibrant hues.

It takes you less than fifteen minutes to reach your apartment building, and Chan is thanking any higher power that might listen for that. The sheer anticipation of what is implied to happen once you two are alone together has him picking at his cuticles until it stings.

He’s nervous, to put it lightly. A couple of terrible drunken hookups in dingy motels after office gatherings were his only sexual encounters after Hyerin was born.

But once you’re standing in front of him in your living room, your eyes never leaving his even as you’re slipping off your heels, Chan knows you’re both equals in this playing field.

He’s the one to pull you into a kiss, lips barely grazing against yours. But the feeling of finally kissing you again after so many years was like wildfire, consuming him wholly until the kiss turns feverish. His hand travels from your shoulders to your lower back, pulling you flush against his body. You hum against his lips, fingers clumsily undoing his buckle, and the prospect that you might be as eager as he is has him gripping the fabric of your dress.

Chan swears his vision goes black the moment your fingertips brush against his hardening erection, the feathery touch enough to make him sigh into your mouth.

A hand is pressed to his chest before he has the chance to think, and you’re pushing him backward until his back meets the wall. You immediately drop to your knees in front of him, leaning forward and nuzzling your face against his clothed cock.

“I missed you,” you whisper, hungry eyes looking up at him. “Don’t think I got to say that.”

Chan takes in the sight of you, memorizing and storing it in his mind alongside the countless images he already had of you on his knees for him. His fingers thread in your hair, your lips falling open with a sigh.

“I missed you too,” he professes. You have no idea how much.

With a smile, you quickly work his zipper open, pulling his jeans down his legs and pressing a wet kiss to his clothed erection. Chan feels your tongue lap at his member through his boxers, lips sucking around the head as your nails scrape the flesh of his thighs lightly.

It feels like you mouth at his length for hours, the light gray fabric of his boxers stained with your saliva and his precum, leaving Chan panting and tugging at your hair. You trail soft, wet kisses down his thigh while pushing his boxers out of your way, his cock already swollen and flushed. He’d be embarrassed for the way his body reacted so responsively to you if you weren’t also visibly as affected.

Your tongue circles his length languidly, lapping at a small bead of precum with a hum. Finally wrapping your lips around his tip, your tongue flicks teasingly beneath the head of his cock, Chan sucking in a deep breath and using his grip on your hair as leverage to pull you toward him. You almost obediently drop your jaw to slide his now fully hardened length into your mouth, your hand wrapping around the base as you begin to bob your head up and down his cock. Chan hisses your name when you relax your throat after a few passes, taking him fully into your pretty mouth, your nose brushing his pelvis.

“Fuck, you always looked so pretty like that,” Chan chokes out. “Pretty lips taking me so well.”

You groan at his words and the vibrations traveling along his shaft have Chan growling with a harsh tug of your hair, causing you to sputter as his cock hit the back of your throat. You seek purchase in his hips as tears prick the corner of your eyes. You’re unrelenting nonetheless, circling your tongue around him before pulling away, hands now sliding up his thigh before gently gliding over his balls. As you slowly lick from the base of his shaft all the way up to the sensitive tip, Chan’s gaze shifts down as he catches a glimpse of your thighs rubbing together. He feels himself twitch, and immediately pulls you away from him.

“Don’t wanna come like this, I need to fuck you,” he rasps out.

You stand back up, legs wobbly, and fumble with the buttons of his shirt while he slides your dress down your shoulders. Your movements are messy and filled with urgency, your breaths quickening as you both want nothing more than to strip away any form of barrier between you. Piling up five years of yearning will do that.

As your impatience reaches its peak, you tear open the last remaining buttons of his shirt, your nails grazing his skin as you slide the fabric down his shoulders. A wave of goosebumps travels across Chan’s body, and his hands abandon the task of removing your dress in favor of tracing the curve of your ass before picking you up off the floor.

“First door on the right,” you tell him, your words answering his unspoken thoughts as if you could read his mind. Chan nods, your proximity making it impossible for him not to press his lips to yours, tongue sliding over your bottom lip before licking into your mouth with a low hum.

He collides with a wall, missing the entrance to your bedroom by a hair’s breadth, and you giggle against his lips. Chan smiles back. Nothing’s ever heavy with you.

He lowers you onto the bed gently, his body instinctively slotting between your spread legs the way he did so many times before. You soon also wrap your thighs around his waist as you always did, pulling him closer until his cock is pressed up against your clothed pussy.

“Wanna ride you,” you tell him, grinding your hips forward and eliciting a quiet moan from Chan’s lips as he hastily nods. With a tight grip on your waist, he flips you both effortlessly.

Promptly sitting up on his thighs, you finally rid yourself of the inconvenient fabric of your dress, followed by your bra, your nipples instantly hardening. Chan sits up, eyes transfixed on your chest as his calloused thumbs trace the nubs before his lips circle around one, sucking harshly. As you gently roll your hips, he can feel the way your soaked panties cling to his skin as your core presses up against his thigh.

Your fingers tangle in his hair with a whimper, pushing his face into your breasts as he bites the sensitive skin. His lips leave your nipples with a wet sound, then trailing kisses up the column of your neck until his gaze is locked on yours again. He was dying to mark you, bite and suck on your skin until it blossomed into a beautiful maroon — but he knew better. You weren’t twenty anymore, and you weren’t his; in no sense of the word.

“I’m on the pill,” you tell him, eyes heavy with lust.

And he knows this is a terrible idea. This was exactly how he came to be a father.

But it’s not his mind that’s doing the thinking, and so he nods, his grip on your hips tightening as you pull your soaked panties to the side just enough to slide the swollen tip of his cock against your slick folds. Chan sucks in a breath, fighting a war against his own body not to come from this feeling alone. It wasn’t just how long it had been since he was with someone, it was you. It was all you. The effect you had always had on him having never faded, simply laying dormant until his body had you again.

Chan rests his forehead on yours as you slowly sink down on his length. His lips find your neck again, gently sucking the skin into his mouth as you slowly grind down on him, a whine falling from your lips and going straight to his cock. His hips buck up unwittingly, causing you to moan loudly in his ears. But your slow pace remains, and Chan knows he should savor this moment, but he wants nothing more than to fuck you into the mattress until he forgets every minor issue aggravating his brain.

Such as the fact that he knows you will leave his life again the second you find out he lied to you.

So his hands find your waist and he flips you down onto the mattress once more. His eyes bore into you as you suck in a breath.

“Fuck me,” you plead, hips grinding into his cock again. “I want it, please—”

Chan doesn’t waste another second, retreating only to plunge back harshly into your cunt. He moves with deep strokes, hips falling into an erratic rhythm, your nails digging into his back as your thighs clenched around his waist. All he can hear is static and your choked moans as he presses you into the mattress.

“Missed this so fucking much,” he groans against your ear. And finally succumbing to his desires, he bends down to suck and nibble on the delicate skin of your neck, mind too focused on how your walls squeeze around him to worry about marking you. He laps at the small bruises he leaves behind, your fingers tangling in his hair as you mewl.

You roll your hips, matching his rhythm, and Chan feels a familiar heat rise within him. He reaches down to glide small circles around your clit, your body jolting and squirming. He absentmindedly smiles against your skin.

After an entire night of pretending his life was the same as it was five years ago, fucking you required no acting.

“It’s too much, fuck,” you whimper, tugging him by the hair until your lips are crashing together in a sloppy kiss. Your walls tighten around him, body clenching as the tension finally snaps, your orgasm coursing through your shaking body as Chan growls into your parted lips.

He keeps fucking into you, until his hips meet yours one last time, and a low groan reverberates through the room. His cock twitches inside of you as his body stills, filling you with his warm release which leaked out of you and onto your sheets as he pulled out with a sigh.

Chan throws himself onto the mattress, labored breaths leaving his heavy lungs. He pulls you into his arms, and you melt into his embrace as if it were a habit. It’s as though he’s gone back in time, even if temporarily.

He feels like he’s simply a guy making love with the girl he adores in the familiar comfort of his dorm room again.

When the first rays of sunlight seeped into your room, Chan was already awake. He watched as you slept, eyelids fluttering and a small smile adorning your lips.

It was as if you were his, in every sense of the word.

Guilt.

That’s what Chan feels every time he sees Hyerin’s laughing face on his phone’s wallpaper when he’s out, entertaining the silly lie he crafted.

It’s been two months since you reconnected and you effortlessly slipped him back into your life. The reunion with his old friends was expected — but Chan dreaded it, regardless. He found that out of the nine people that once comprised their group, only five remained. He wasn’t the only one who had gone his own way.

But he was the only one who had done it in the worst way possible, carelessly ghosting every single one of them, hoping his existence gradually faded from their memories.

That made facing his once best friend frightening. Minho was the first friend he made on the very first day of university, when Chan walked into his dorm room only to find he had snuck his cat into the building.

They were roommates for two years, and best friends for four. Chan complained loudly when he was assigned a new roommate. Minho was silent as he watched his best friend turn his back on him with no explanation.

Minho initially ignored him entirely, and Chan doesn’t fault him. When his vibrant face turned cold upon seeing him walk into a bar, Chan knew he earned that the moment he decided to ignore his friend’s every text message and phone call. When Minho made backhanded remarks about how nice it felt to have him back in their group, he knew he deserved it for not answering the door the only time his friend came looking for him.

It takes a drunken argument leading to a fist colliding with Chan’s cheek for Minho to finally address him. It takes them being escorted out of the bar by security for them to finally have a conversation, tears and resentment flowing freely as they sat at a bus stop late at night. After that, their friendship returned to what it was before, as if they had never been apart even for a second.

Despite the years and the changes, Minho was still his best friend — which was why he was the only person he came clean to.

Hyerin loved Minho, especially his cats. Her new favorite pastime quickly became going over to his house to play with her new ‘friends’, as she called them. And Chan was overwhelmed with happiness to witness his best friend falling under his daughter’s spell — his house now containing its very own box filled with every toy Hyerin mentioned even once, his kitchen stocked with all her favorite foods, and his cats falling asleep beside her anytime they came over to visit.

It was as if he was watching his two worlds collide. His past and present, which he had separated out of a senseless fear, intertwined so effortlessly it made him feel stupid for ever thinking he needed to build this barrier. For assuming the people he loved so much would reject him.

Made him feel even worse for walking away in a futile attempt to protect his feelings, because it only resulted in more hurt.

After so much of his time spent wondering, Chan finally has the answer to his questions. Some of his friends did settle for an ordinary adult life, some already married and some focusing their energy solely on climbing the corporate ladder. Still, some remained relatively unchanged — much like you did.

His social life blossomed again after reconnecting with his old friends. However, he still refused to hire a nanny, too fearful to leave Hyerin to a stranger’s care, resulting in constantly having to come up with excuses when his parents aren’t able to babysit. He won’t deny that he often fabricated these lies purely because staying in with his daughter and watching Tangled now outweighs any appeal of noisy nightclubs.

Jisung remained his salvation whenever he wanted to spend the night at your place, with Chan slowly but surely running out of reasons as to why you can’t go to his apartment for a change. He hasn’t had the heart or the courage to tell you the entire truth yet, only owning up to his lie about his job after you understandably asked him to listen to his new music and he was put on the spot.

Ever since you walked back into his life, he finds himself weaving a web of little white lies that slowly chip away at his heart.

He’s at a small gathering for his friend’s birthday, listening to Minho all but eulogize his fiancee. They have been a couple since university, Chan playing the wingman and encouraging his friend to finally do something about his crush (mostly because he couldn’t handle any more of Minho’s whining before going to sleep). Despite what everyone around them surmised, they beat all the odds and statistics and stayed together even after university. Chan would be happier about that if he hadn’t bet money on them breaking up before graduation. He wonders if Hongjoong will ask for his twenty bucks now that they’re friends again.

“No, really, settling down with someone is so good,” Minho says after another shot of Soju, a silly smile etched onto his lips. “I thought I would hate it, y’know? Thought slapping such a significant title on our relationship would wear it down, but it’s the complete opposite. Ever since she proposed, it’s like we’re two love-struck nineteen-year-olds again.”

Chan smiles, saying they should drink to that purely because he hopes the sensation of alcohol burning his throat will numb his overwhelming jealousy. After congratulating Minho for the umpteenth time, he finds himself listening to yet another story about his relationship.

And he’s happy for Minho, just as much as he’s happy for Wonwoo for getting married last year. He couldn’t express the overwhelming joy he felt upon discovering these people, who once meant so much to him, had successfully navigated their way through life. But envy rears its ugly head every time he listens to one of their stories, because Chan’s direction in life seems to be a winding road. He’s a father, and his love for Hyerin is immeasurable, but he’s still actively lying about this side of him simply because he feels as if maybe he made the right choices in life at the worst possible time.

As he’s walking out of Hongjoong’s apartment with you later that night, he wraps an arm around your waist, a smile spreading across his face when you nestle closer to him. You two discuss Wonwoo’s marriage, with you talking about how beautiful the ceremony was, but ultimately scowling at the mere thought of getting married. Chan feels the corner of his heart crack at your words, but he laughs it off.

“Do you think he wants kids?” he wonders aloud.

He expects you to laugh at his sudden curiosity. He doesn’t expect you to dig at the fissure in his heart with your words, causing it to shatter completely.

“Gosh, it’d be so weird to see.” You cringe, snuggling deeper into his arms as a chilly breeze brushes against you two. “I like kids, but I’d never have them myself. Feel like it’d kinda ruin my life.”

Chan feels his grip on your waist loosen.

“Having kids doesn’t ruin your life,” he reasons. “You’re given the chance to care for something so precious, so important to this world…” he trails off, shaking his head and taking a step away from you. It feels as if exasperation has filled his entire being. “You look into their eyes and see yourself, and it’s— the love you feel when you first see them is so pure and earth-shattering that you can’t think of anything but how to make that tiny being only experience the good in the world. It doesn’t ruin your life.”

You eye him with confusion, cocking your head to the side and huffing out a laugh. “You talk like you know what that’s like. If you ever have kids one day, then you’ll know—”

“But I do know,” he’s yelling before he can stop himself, his footsteps coming to a halt. “I know because I have that. I have that and it’s the most precious thing in my life and yet I’ve been taking it for granted. And for what?”

He scoffs bitterly, his gaze fixing on your features; your flushed cheeks and slightly smudged lipstick, the way your puzzled eyes gleam under the moonlight. He shakes his head.

“For childish illusions. The illusion that I could go back in time if I pretended hard enough, the illusion that this romanticized idea I have of my early twenties was superior to the life I have now,” Chan lets out a heavy breath, averting his gaze to the pavement. “The illusion that I could ever have you.”

“So it’s my fault you chose to lie about being a dad?” You blurt out.

He doesn’t lift his head. He can’t, the burden of guilt and shame weighing too heavily on his shoulders for him to face you.

“It’s my fault. You were simply the catalyst.”

“What do you even mean?”

“I mean I’ve always felt this way,” he exasperates, finally lifting his head but keeping his gaze anywhere but on you. He’s a coward. “I’ve always felt like maybe I was too young to be a dad, too immature to fully understand the consequences of the choices I made. I don’t regret my daughter, but I certainly regret the timing, and this haunts me every day. Meeting you again just made these feelings worse because you represent everything about my past that I no longer have.”

You remain quiet for a beat, but it feels like an eternity as Chan is forced to endure the deafening ring of your silence.

When you finally speak, your voice is unsteady. “You know, that’s why I always figured it was for the best that you left.”

“What?” Chan turns his gaze toward your face at last, your words stomping on his scattered heart one last time. He expects anger, but sorrow has taken over your expression, one so heavy he doesn’t recall a single moment in the years he’s known you where he’s seen you like this.

“You were always like this, Chan. You might think you were a different person back then, but you said it yourself,” you shrug with a sullen chuckle. “It’s only an illusion.”

He hums, nodding his head as it dawns on him. “You were never gonna be mine, were you? No matter what I did. I lied to you because I thought you would never want someone like who I am today. But I guess that was all in vain, ‘cause I’ve always been like this.”

“You always talked about getting married, settling down, having kids.” As you run a hand through your hair, an exasperated sigh falls from your lips. “You went along with our bullshit, but even back then, you were always like the dad of our group. This has always been you, Chan, but that’s not a bad thing. Don’t think you need to change or lie about who you are ‘cause you’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met, but…”

He scoffs. “But?”

“But we’re too different. We’ve always been. We’re great together in every way but the way you want us to be — the way I would love for us to be as well,” you simply say, offering him a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“And would it kill you if we tried? ‘Cause this unfulfilled hope has been killing me since I first fell in love with you.”

“What’s her name?” You simply ask, avoiding his question altogether. Chan furrows his brows. “Your daughter, what’s her name?”

He shifts on his feet. “Hyerin.”

“I hope she knows how lucky she is to have you as a dad.”

Chan shakes his head. “I’m far from the perfect father.”

“Good,” you state matter-of-factly. “Perfect wouldn’t be you.”

You fall into a much lighter silence, although it’s still far from comfortable. A swarm of questions fills Chan’s mind, but his words fade into silence and die on his lips.

He knows everything is over when you suck in a sharp breath, muttering, “I can’t be what you need. When love becomes too serious, I feel trapped and run away. You know what that’s like,” you trail off. “I know we loved each other back then, and I know I still love you now, but I think it’s my turn to walk away. I’m sorry, Chan.”

And just like that, he’s left to watch your figure slowly grow smaller and smaller as you fade into the dimly lit street. You don’t reprimand him for lying or question if he also loves you still. You don’t explain why you can’t make an effort, probably because you’re unsure of the answer yourself. It turns out you both remained unchanged.

And after all this time, it’s only then that Chan realizes you were always just as lost as he was.

Chan didn’t allow himself to think much about you since he watched you walk away that night. He missed you often, as he had done for so long before your last encounter, but he had long grown numb to that feeling.

In the two years he was apart from you for the second time, he learned that life isn’t black or white. He could be a father while also being his own person; a son, a friend, a boyfriend. He learned that prioritizing Hyerin didn’t mean neglecting himself, as that would negatively impact her as well. She couldn’t only know happiness if her father was always dripping with sadness.

He learned he doesn’t have to choose between who he is now and who he was at twenty years old; they were both him, with certain moments bringing out glimpses of one or the other.

Hyerin started elementary school and is blossoming into a caring little girl, no longer needing Chan to tie her pigtails in the morning or remind her to brush her teeth before bed. Although she still demands that they maintain their nightly routine of lying together until she falls asleep to the sound of his voice singing her favorite song.

During his first parent-teacher conference — after walking into the classroom fifteen minutes late — he’s stunned to see you sitting across from him yet again, a pencil holding up your ponytail the same way it did that night at the restaurant. He couldn’t help the smile that spread on his lips.

You were Hyerin’s teacher. He recalled picking her up after her first day of school and listening to her gush over the art teacher who was so pretty and nice, and talking about how she wanted to be like her when she grows up.

It felt as if you were destined to find each other every time one of you chose to walk away.

Your friendship picked up again slowly this time — no rushing into bed together and no rushing into long overdue serious conversations. They had already been avoided for years, anyway, they could wait a bit longer. This is exactly what you needed; patience. Chan had never had the patience to wait for you, while you never had the patience to understand your own feelings.

It’s been ten months now, and he’s yet again sitting before you. The teachers and parents converse around you both as you sit in silence. When you think no one is watching, you exchange glances, struggling to suppress the silly smiles that insist on spreading across your faces.

As people leave the room one by one after the meeting, Chan approaches you.

“You’re Bang Hyerin’s father, correct?” You speak with a grin.

“Correct.”

“She’s an amazing kid,” you tell him.

He smiles, shifting his gaze toward his feet before his eyes find yours again as you speak.

“We could grab a coffee this weekend.”

This time, there are further implications hidden in your request. You’re not asking as a friend, like you’ve been doing these past months. Some things are heavy with you now, and this is something he’s only recently come to find. He’s also come to find that he loves that change.

So he answers, “Sure. Tomorrow at three?”

“Then I’m your date for tomorrow,” you say with a giggle. “See you there, cutie.”

And Chan lets out a hearty laugh at that, which earns him a scolding look from the other teachers in the room.

He isn’t sure what will come of this. Maybe you two are better off as friends and all it will take is a couple of months to figure that out. Maybe time has changed you both more than he can understand, and you will finally be able to try something real after all these years of unfulfilled hopes and childish illusions.

Either way, Chan knows he won’t let go of you this time.

He wants you to be his, in any sense of the word.

♡ taglist: @bloom-ings, @linocz, @farahia, @mirbokk, @jisunglyricist, @jazziwritesthings, @seungseung-minmin, @yourcvndx, @hynjinnnnnnnie @vlctorriaa @yongbokkiesworld

#stray kids #bang chan smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #bang chan #bang chan x you #stray kids smut #skz #bangchan smut #bangchan x reader #bangchan x you

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solxamber · 6 days ago

Note

Hi can I have Ignihyde for # 8, fluff or comedy. Thank you!

Anime Boot Camp || Idia Shroud ft. Ortho

For the Holiday Event! || Prompt: "This is non-negotiable" ; Genre: Fluff with Comedy ;

You should’ve known better. You really should have. But Idia had given you one of those rare, half-excited, half-nervous smiles, and you’d been putty in his hands.

“Sure, Idia,” you’d said with zero hesitation. “I’d love to watch the new season with you.”

A seemingly innocent offer. A simple act of camaraderie. And then, Idia had dropped the bomb.

“Great. We’ll start from season one. It’s non-negotiable.”

Season one?

“Wait—how many seasons are there?” you asked cautiously, trying to keep the panic out of your voice.

Idia adjusted his tablet, the glow highlighting his sinister grin. “Nineteen. Not including the movies, OVAs, or the bonus material. But don’t worry, the filler episodes are only about 35%.”

Your soul left your body.

“I—uh…” you stammered, searching for an escape. “Do we really need to watch everything? I thought we were just watching the new season?”

“You can’t watch season 20 without context!” Idia exclaimed, horrified. “You’d miss all the foreshadowing and character arcs! It’s essential to the viewing experience.”

You looked at him, and there it was: the genuine excitement in his eyes, the rare spark of passion that made him absolutely irresistible. Damn your stupid heart.

“Okay,” you sighed. “Let’s do it. Start from episode one.”

Idia’s face lit up, and if you weren’t already melting, his quiet “Y-you’re the best,” would’ve sealed the deal.

That’s how you found yourself on Idia’s couch, sandwiched between him and Ortho, with snacks piled precariously around you.

“This is the start of a life-changing journey,” Ortho said cheerfully, handing you a soda. “Big Brother has been waiting for someone to share this with forever!”

You glanced at Idia, who was trying to hide his blush behind his hoodie.

“You sure we’re not biting off more than we can chew here?” you asked weakly as the opening theme of season one blasted from the giant screen.

Idia waved you off. “Nah. If we watch at 1.5x speed, skip the ending songs, and only take five-minute breaks every eight episodes, we’ll finish in about four days.”

“Four days?”

“Non-negotiable,” he reminded you smugly, tossing popcorn into his mouth.

By day two, you’d developed Stockholm Syndrome for the characters.

“NO, KAZUTAKA, DON’T DO IT!” you yelled, clutching the blanket you’d stolen from Idia’s bed.

“It’s his tragic backstory arc,” Idia explained, completely unfazed by your emotional outburst. “He has to do it for the narrative payoff in season 14.”

You groaned. “This show is going to kill me.”

“It builds character,” Idia said, smirking.

Meanwhile, Ortho was a model of efficiency, pausing episodes precisely for snack breaks and bringing you hot towels like you were at an anime spa. You were starting to think Ortho might be the MVP of this whole operation.

“Ortho, you’re a saint,” you said as he handed you a cup of tea.

“I just want to support Big Brother’s happiness,” Ortho chirped, beaming.

Idia mumbled something unintelligible and pulled his hoodie tighter.

By day four, you were fully invested.

“THE PLOT TWIST! I KNEW IT!” you screamed, nearly knocking the bowl of chips off your lap.

“Pshh, called it back in episode 47,” Idia muttered, though the gleam in his eyes said he was enjoying this more than he’d admit.

“You did not!” you argued.

“I’ve seen this, like, three times, noob,” he retorted smugly.

Ortho, who had already created a mini shrine for your endurance, clapped in delight. “You’re catching up to Big Brother’s level of dedication!”

When the final credits rolled, you leaned back with a dramatic sigh. “We did it. I can’t believe we actually did it.”

“I can’t believe you survived,” Idia said, looking at you with a mix of awe and amusement.

“Maybe a family sometimes,” you said, stretching, “is just you, your crush, and his technomantic humanoid brother.”

Ortho tilted his head. “Does that mean you’re officially part of the family?”

You froze, glancing at Idia. His face was redder than a lava eel, and he was aggressively pretending to read something on his tablet.

“Well,” you said, smirking. “That depends on your brother.”

Idia groaned, burying his face in his hoodie. “You’re insufferable,” he mumbled.

And yet, when you shifted closer to nudge him playfully, he didn’t pull away.

Masterlist

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #idia shroud x reader #idia x reader #idia shroud #idia #ortho shroud

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bluesidez · 2 months ago

Text

The Love Lab presents:

[Is It Warm?]

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!Reader

summary: A stressed-out man deserves a stress-free encounter.

content warning: another PWP but it actually has plot...I should stop calling these PWPs, an uncomfortable scene at the beginning that involves a form of harassment, 18+ so MDNI, body worship (m receiving), thorough body massages, freeform? pegging, unprotected p in v sex (WRAP IT UP 🫵🏾), cum as lube, creampie

word count: 4.6k, halfway proofread

a/n: This is partially a birthday gift to myself and partially a part of the array of fics I wanted to get out before October was over for like...an all-month birthday celebration? School is getting in my way and October is over today, so.....that plan is soiled. But still! Enjoy this!

Here’s the Part 1 of this story! It’s not necessary to read, but it’ll add a bit of context.

“Did you find it yet?”

“No, it’s still the same thing.”

You pout as Miguel digs further into bottom shelf, baskets rattling against him.

One of the stores you frequented was selling a new round of character-themed merchandise and, of course, they were quick to sell out.

This time around, Nueva York’s one and only Spider-Man’s suit would be worn by the different characters adorning the jars, cups, and blankets.

Nueva York’s one and only Spider-Man was also on all fours searching for the basket that your friend hid those multiple things in.

You had work in the morning, so you couldn’t camp outside and grab it as soon as the doors opened. You didn’t want to bother Miguel with something so small either.

However, he picked you up from work as a surprise with a bouquet of roses in one hand which led to the current predicament.

He saw how low the shelf was and didn’t want anyone to look under your skirt, so now you’re stuck staring at his ass filling out his jeans.

“Any warmer?” you ask.

“Maybe?” he mumbled, arch in his back deepening.

You fought the urge to rub your leg along the curve lest he bang his head and knock the entire shelf down. Instead, you folded your arms under your chest and shifted in your heels.

Since you ever so delicately brought him to new horizons, he’s been extra sensitive about your hands fondling that entire zone. He hasn’t really asked you to do it again.

It’s ok. He’s an extremely busy man and the last time, he was conked out and in a daze for a while.

Still, you were obsessed with how he looked from behind.

He starts to back up, pulling a woven basket out from behind the others. He places it on the ground. Once it’s opened, it’s as if the colorful world of cute, lovingly drawn characters was brought to you.

You clap your hands in excitement as Miguel stands up and places the basket in the small cart you’ve been pushing.

“The things I do for my girlfriend,” Miguel sighs as he dusts off his knees.

You wait until he stands straight and pull your arms around his neck to plead for a kiss. He pecks them twice and rubs your waist.

“Thank you, boyfriend,” you whisper with a smile.

Miguel purses his lips and nods, bashful.

You turn and drag the cart down the aisle, Miguel following behind with his warm hand nearly folded over your hips. You hum and comment about the things that you see, turning to look at him with big eyes when you really wanted something.

He’d give the occasional “You don’t need that,” but then there were the silent head-tilts when you described the use of a product so energetically.

“But baby, we could cuddle under this when we watch our shows! And these,” you pointed to some snail mucin you found, “we have to have this for our spa days.”

“That’s,” Miguel folded his arms, “correct. We need to keep our skin clear. And we need to keep warm.”

Errand days always turned to you to Miguel pulling items down and convincing you to get things that you didn’t need but absolutely wanted.

“What about this?” Miguel takes a bra from the rack, head turned toward the piece but eyes looking over at you.

“It’s cute, but I think I could find a cuter one somewhere else.”

“You’re right. I’ll just rip it off.”

“On second thought, add it to the cart.”

It’s about an hour before you both make it to the line for the register.

You’re trying not to add to the “annoying couple” demographic, but Miguel’s arms are holding onto the cart, enveloping you against his chest. You turn and look up at him and smile, giddy that he joined you on this errand run.

He kisses your head and hums along to the song playing through the store speakers. You lay on his chest and read along the products on the shelves next to you.

A man peeks at you over the shelf, eyes cutting into you before he smirks and walks away.

You shudder like you’re cold and make a disgusted sound before you turn your head.

“What’s wrong?” Miguel asks, guiding you and the cart further in line.

“Creepy guy,” you mumble into his chest.

Miguel frowns and turns, squinting around the store. He was definitely hiding now.

“I’ll handle it,” Miguel grunts.

You stay silent, knowing that once he’s set to do something, he won’t change his mind.

One day he quietly asked you “What use would having a boyfriend with superhuman powers be if I don’t use them to protect you?”

You’ve long stopped telling him to ignore things like this.

Another inch further in line and it’s almost time to pay. The guy lingers again by the entrance of the store. You lean your weight on Miguel, feet tired of your heels and anxious of how the next few minutes could play out.

Trying to understand his motive was nearly impossible: you were clearly with someone else with a large physique, clinging to him like a lifeline. That should have been a huge hint.

When it’s time to place your items on the counter, Miguel shifts his body so you don’t see the stranger. The two of you work chat to the cashier, joking about the many things you’ve bought.

With swift movements, Miguel pays for your items and carries your bag before you can even think to pay. He turns and waits for you to lock your arms through his, a habit grown from his need to be near you.

The entrance was empty, other people scattered throughout the store.

Maybe it was just a strange incident.

“Excuse me, miss. Would you mind helping me with something?” the guy asks behind you just when you think you’re in the clear.

“She’s good,” Miguel tells him, face stern.

“What, so she can’t answer for herself?”

You ball a fist up around the back of Miguel’s shirt, steadying yourself, “I can answer for myself, but we’re in a bit of a hurry. So, if you don’t mind, we’ll be out of-“

“I-It’s just that my daughter’s birthday is coming up,” the man holds his hands up frantically. “I have no clue what 10-year-olds like nowadays. I was wondering if you could help me choose something.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. This guy could be lying completely, but the thought of a little girl out there smiling as she ripped the paper off a present tugged at you.

Looking at Miguel, you could tell he was on the same wavelength.

“There is one thing that’s all the craze,” you say.

Back in the store, you were sifting through the aisles again with your attentive boyfriend not too far behind. He was carrying all of your bags in his hands and on his shoulders so you could really make an honest effort to help.

Ten was that turning point where you either really loved imaginary toys or wanted nothing to do with then, perhaps a mix of both.

“She used to love these when she was younger,” the man pulls out a baby doll from the lower shelf.

There’s been about five things he’s mentioned all of which were geared towards a younger audience. He was so insistent that it made you wonder of he’s even talked with his daughter in the past five years.

“I’m not sure she would like this one. What about that?” you point to a popular plushie. It’s not the baby doll, but you’re sure his daughter would love it.

“Oh I don’t know…”

This back-and-forth continues for longer than you want it to. You could have been wrapped around your boyfriend like a koala while he talked about his day and instead you were stuck here.

“Sir, we really have to go,” Miguel intervenes, “I’m sure whatever you get your daughter, she’ll love it.”

The older man sneers, “You wouldn’t know a thing about that.”

“Excuse me?” your face changes, disturbed.

“Such a beautiful thing on his arm and no ring, no child. He’s slacking up,” he slides a hand down your arm. “My daughter could use someone like you-“

Miguel snatches his hand up from your arm, eyes almost glowing under the bright lights of the store.

“Are you insane?”

“Let go of me!”

The man tries to fight against Miguel but falls short as he keeps his cool. He’s only released when his body flashes in an array of blue and pink squares, knees hitting the ground.

Faster than you can comprehend what’s going on, Miguel drags him out of the door. You follow afterwards, apologetic to the confused employees.

“Do you just like to touch women for fun or is it exclusive to people that try to help you?” you can hear Miguel bark at him.

“I’ll have you reported to the authorities!”

“Yeah, yeah. Try and call the rent-a-cops,” Miguel’s lip never unfurled. He whipped out a phone. “Lyla?”

In a series of events, you watched the man go from Miguel’s grip to the stringy webs of Spider Scarlet.

“I see that this fellow is giving you trouble and sorrow,” Ben’s stunted tone crowded the stranger’s cries. “I’ll remove him quickly, no, swiftly. So that you both can have a wonderful night. Together.”

You can almost see the tension build in Miguel’s temple.

“Thank you. It’s much appreciated,” Miguel grunts. “I would like to move on with my night, please.”

“Of course, Bo- I mean hard-working citizen.”

He grabs the glitching stranger to swing back to HQ, a quiet wave to you before he left.

You laugh, feeling Miguel’s shoulders fall a bit.

“You ok, baby?” he takes your hands in his, bags lining his arms,

You nod your head, “I’ve had worst things happen. Could use some comfort, though.”

He gives a sympathetic smile and rubs a thumb across your cheek.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Small, pesky incidents like this kept popping up.

An occurrence of a clown that stood in the gray parks holding a single balloon but doing nothing else, women with pixie cuts complaining about the prices of clothes, balding men with beer bellies and baseball caps: all of these people from different eras were spread across Nueva York.

While you’ve been going into work, keeping your schedule relatively normal, Miguel has been in and out.

It wasn’t a rare sight to come home to his empty penthouse, only the city lights and a talkative Lyla to keep you company.

Sometimes, you were woken up by his arms sliding around your middle and a kiss to the back of your neck, but by the time you woke up, he was gone again.

The life of a superhero’s girlfriend was a bit isolating, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Especially not the shocked look on Miguel’s face as he enters the living room one evening.

“What’s all this?” he asks, looking at the dimly lit lights and taking in the smell of something sweet in the air.

Music is playing from the speakers and Miguel is noticing how smooth the skin of your legs look from in between your silk gown. Taking advantage of his focus, you bend and remove the cloth from the table behind you.

“Ta-da!”

You stand there with your hands out, shaking them. It takes a lot to not jump like a star in excitement.

Miguel looks from you to the table.

“What is it?”

“What does it look like?”

“I meant, what is it for, honey.”

You lean on the massage table with your hip and hold your fingers up to count off, “Well, it’s for you. To relax. To unwind. To let me try out the skills I learned from that class my coworker gifted to me.”

Within the pause, you twirl four fingers in the air.

Miguel sits near the back on the couch with an exhausted look on his face, “Baby, thank you for the gesture, but I don’t know if-”

“Please! I think you’ll really, really love it. I can massage you right now while you’re not super busy,” you say as Miguel stands again. You bounce over in front of him, puppy-dog eyes on full display. “I only rented it for a few days!”

He looked to the ceiling and sighed, weak to the look on your face.

“Fine.”

“Where is your robe at?” a freshly showered Miguel asks with an eyebrow raised. He still pans up and down your body, like he hasn’t explored it a million times over.

A few steps forward and his gaze is stuck on the way your sheer and short gown molds around your body.

There’s nothing underneath but your perfumed skin.

“That’s the perk of having your girlfriend give you a massage,” you say watching him stare at your chest. You take his chin in your hand and guide his face back to your eyes. “Right?”

“Mm hm.”

You snort and tell him to lay down

“Take your towel off, silly.”

Miguel obeys, white fabric pulled from under him with a blink of an eye. He lays it just above his behind.

“This is going to feel so good. I just know it,” you say, giving his back a light rub.

“Thank you in advance,” Miguel replies. He’s lying with his head on his arms, stress from work evident.

You’re really glad he’s letting you help him indulge in this break.

Grabbing the oil from the end table you pulled over, you pour some right on his back, fingers spreading along the pivots of his neck. You. stand in front of the head of the table and press your thumbs into his nape, earning a stunted noise from him.

A smile grows on your face, “I haven’t even really started, Miguel.” Your thumbs start to circle and he turns his face into the open hole.

“Stiff there. Too many screens to watch,” he says. “It smells good.”

“Give those pretty eyes a rest then,” you tut, adding your other fingers to the ones along his neck in an upwards motion.

Shea butter never fails you.

His neck slowly heats up and you giggle to yourself. One compliment and he turned into mush.

“What about here, hm?” shifting down to the tops of his shoulders. The muscles there pulled as tight as a rope. Adding pressure to them makes Miguel groan.

“’S good.”

“I bet,” you work into a knot, warm hands pushing into his skin. “There’s no telling how long this has been here.”

Miguel silently notes that maybe he should wind himself up more if he could end up like this again: pampered by his pretty girlfriend.

As quiet as he kept his running thoughts, his throat involuntary gave you real-time reviews.

Every slide of your knuckles nearly had him purring and your fingertips warmed him through to his bones.

His shoulders feel like air once you’re moving down his spine.

“I’m going to do something different,” your voice is lower so as to not disturb the atmosphere.

You hike one of your knees up on the edge of the table and climb over him, hovering as you asses his back.

Two hands cover his waist with thumbs almost touching each other on his spine. You let go of some of your weight and press your thumbs up his back.

Miguel’s voice vibrates through the room, an arch in his spine forming.

You repeat the action, earning an even louder response.

Moving to stroking in outwards motions from his spine to the sides, you wanted to pat yourself on the back. Miguel was so relaxed under you.

Though, you wanted to smack yourself for getting excited so early, the effect of his sounds making itself evident with how cold the air felt on your exposed lower half.

Switching to move your hands down his arms to hefty muscle of his shoulder blades, you hoped to distract yourself.

“Se siente tan bien,” Miguel sighed, airy and relieved. “I’ve been climbing a lot more this past week.” (That feels so good.)

The praise went straight to your clit.

“I’m glad, Miggy. I’ll work out some more tightness in your back and move down to your legs. Sound good?” you were trying your best to control your tone.

Miguel starts to answer but a stunted sound comes from his lips instead as you start to knead his back in small places.

Back and forth, you move across his skin, heart thumping in your chest.

By the time you got to his lower back, you awkwardly sat on the towel separating the two of you. You were sure it was dampening, but you hoped Miguel was too far gone to notice.

Your thumbs circle in the dips of his skin, his hips lifting up, making you brace yourself.

“Babe, you’re going to push me off,” you say as Miguel tries to glue his waist to your fingers.

“S-sorry,” hips stutter against the table before he lays down completely.

You pat his side as a form of forgiveness and inch off of the table. The towel over his ass was wrinkled, brown skin peeking from under it.

You grab more oil to start on the back of his thighs, a place that you know could carry his tension. With both of your hands focusing on his right thigh, you add pressure to your palms.

Miguel immediately jerked, grunting through his teeth.

“Woah, there,” you rub his leg softly. “Does it hurt?”

“No.”

“What’s wrong?”

He’s softly pushing out air as you continue back.

“It’s embarrassing. And rude,” he mumbles after a while.

You move down to his calf, his voice rising as you envelop his skin.

“What is?”

He huffs, turning his head, “I’m hard.”

Switching legs, you try not to show your giddiness.

“Nothing wrong with that. I think it’s a normal reaction.”

“Is it?” he shifts again when you massage the inside of his thigh, so close to the problem area. “The last time I got massaged was before…everything. It was never like this.”

You try to envision a younger, scrawny Miguel laid out on the table before you and giggle.

“Don’t laugh.”

“I’m not,” you say in between a quiet grin.

Miguel lifts his head a bit, “I can hear you smiling, amor.”

“Ok, how about this,” you remove the towel and softly cover his behind with your hands. “Can I massage here?”

Miguel looks back at you, eyes darker under these lights.

“Isn’t this a full-body massage?”

You bite your cheek to try and stop your face from lighting up, but it fails.

“Then, continue to relax, Mr. Spider-Man.”

“I prefer Mr. Boyfriend, actually.”

Humming, you push into the plushest parts of him, repeating the motion circle after circle.

You try to ignore his hole peering out every time you knead.

Miguel is breathing deeply, back rising and falling.

Looking down, you can tell that his earlier words were true. Poor thing was barely rutting against the table.

You slide a thumb on his taint, marveling at how he lets out a sharp gasp. The feeling makes him grind harder into the soft material.

“Please,” he whispers.

“Please, what, Mr. Boyfriend? Anything I can do to make your experience better?”

“I want,” you brush your finger over his hole and he groans. “Want more.”

You stop and grab the lone tile, wiping the oil from your hands.

Walking near his face, you lean down and kiss his ear, the skin heated, “This requires more facilities. One momento!”

Luckily for him, the dildo from the last time was already clean.

Coincidentally.

You grab it and some lube from the bedroom and rush back to Miguel who is sprawled out on the table.

“Sorry for the wait,” you say. “Let’s start back.”

With lube on your fingers, you rub a thumb over his hole, pressing until you breach past.

Miguel sighs, “Shock. I missed this.”

That surprises you, “Really?”

“Yes,” he moaned as you reach in further. “You make me feel good. I just didn’t have the time to enjoy it.”

Your heart soars, switching from your thumb to two fingers. The way his hips rise shows a beautiful line in his silhouette. When tell him such, he shudders.

“You always compliment me on the things I couldn’t care less for.”

“There’s beauty in all of you though, Miguel,” your words contrast how you’re digging into him, adding another finger and brushing past the ball of fire.

Miguel tightens his fists, pushing back against your hand, “Put it in me.”

“Do you like it when I praise you?” you ask, ignoring his request.

“You already know the answer. Por favor, bebé.”

He was getting whiny and you remembered that this whole endeavor was supposed to be for him, about him.

You climbed back over him, a palm pressed into his back, “I know, I know. I got you.”

“So needy,” you say as you lube up the pink plastic.

Miguel gears up to respond but you shush him when you glide the tip in.

Your name is on his lips, singing along with the melody of the instrumental playing in the background.

You pull your gown up a little, fur on the trim riding up your skin. You moan with him as you let the dildo go deeper.

From here, you can see the glow of his back, glistening under the candlelight from the oil that drives him crazy on you. The nape of his neck is starting to shine with sweat and his fingers are pressing into his palm so as to not puncture the table.

Continuing your movement, you move your wrist continuously, pushing into him and cupping your breasts to stop them from moving.

You’re drenched and when you slide your heat over his cheeks, the end of the dildo feels amazing against your clit. You hold the end of it close and move your hips along every thrust.

“Keep going,” Miguel says, reveling in the way you were getting off on top of him. “Don’t stop.”

Your hips move faster, hand on your chest moving to his back, nails digging into his skin. Your body leans over him, skin-to-skin separated by your thin gown.

No words can be formed as you listen to Miguel let out satisfied grunts, the sound of him covering and uncovering the dildo aligning with him.

You angle it so that it can slide along your folds before it enters him, keening into his skin every time.

“I love you so much, Miggy,” your nails scratch against him, your body tensing like he was the one pinning you into the table.

Miguel jerks, panting out, “Love you, too. Te amo mucho, ángel.”

You continue, Miguel’s words blending from begs for more to confessions of love.

When he reveals that he’s close, arching into you, you suck a kiss into his back, working your dildo past his prostate.

He groans, cum spreading under him. You pepper kisses across his back.

“Hm,” you got up and switch the dildo for a plug, squeezing a cheek for good luck. “I didn’t finish the massage.”

Miguel turns his body around, careful not to knock you off.

“You’re always up to something.”

He smiled, looking at your ruined gown, oil making it cling to you. He’s still hard, cum smeared across his lower abdomen.

You bring your face to his, kissing his lips while his hands slide up your hips.

“I’m just a little crazy when it comes to you,” you reply, tilting your head to deepen the kiss.

Miguel moves his chin up, a hand coming to cover your neck.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You smiled into his lips, rubbing your nose against his. He laughed at the gesture and rubbed down your back.

“Shall I continue, Mr. Boyfriend?”

“I’m at your command, Ms. Girlfriend.”

You lean up and slowly pull your gown off of you. Miguel watches you, not missing a single moment.

“While I did have ideas of exactly how this massage was going to go,” you reach back and scoop up the milky liquid on his stomach. You take him in your hand and pump once, twice. “I think I’ll end it with a bang.”

When his tip goes past your entrance, his eyes roll back and his hands grab your hips instinctively.

Your head dips past your shoulders as you sit further, the feeling of him familiar but still overwhelming.

Your hips stutter as you try not to let the greedy feeling of chasing your orgasm come back so quickly. To fight it, you place your hands on his pecs.

“Usually, the chest massage is done in the opposite direction,” Miguel hikes his hips up as you try to get back into masseur mode, earning a high moan from you. “B-but you get special privileges today.”

You focus on applying pressure to his collar bones, working over a fading love mark.

Miguel isn’t having it as he holds your hips and snaps up.

“I think I have a more severe problem area,” he says as you push the skin of his chest towards his armpits. He wasn’t even tense there.

“And I’ll get to it-“

“You don’t understand,” Miguel says, locking his arms around you. “It’s serious.”

He thrusts up, delving into you like he was always meant to do so. You grip his shoulders and hold on, mind hazy at the shift.

“The prettiest masseuse in the world,” he breathes out. His eyebrows are scrunching up, ever so expressive. “My private one.”

“Yes,” you sigh, close from before. You’re turning into putty in his arms.

Arousal builds as he continues to work into you. Your mouth parts, unsure as to what was coming from your mouth.

“C’mon, baby. I know you’re there,” Miguel moves one hand to grip your shoulder. “‘M ready to pay you.”

You convulse around him, core swimming with his words.

He follows right after, hips attaching to you as he fills you up. The table creaks as he pumps a few more times into your lifted body.

When you both come down, your muscles feel like they’ve been reconstructed. Miguel lifts you off of his length, keeping you in the air for a bit just to watch him drip out of you.

“That’s a pretty steep payment,” you say once you’re lying on his chest.

Miguel snickers, “I’ll help you manage it later.”

“But before that,” you wave a hand in the air making a holographic screen with blue squares appear before you both. “Leave a tip?”

Miguel wipes it away as you cackle.

“You’ve ruined me for all future massages in a normal setting and you want a tip?”

“I’m just kidding,” you kiss his pout away.

“Besides,” you reach down and graze your fingers over him. “This tip is pretty good.”

“Only ‘pretty good’? Do you need another one?”

You put your eyes to the sky, thinking, “Let’s eat dinner and get away from the nearly ruined, rented table first.”

Miguel smiles softly, “Good idea.”

dividers by: @/adornedwithlight @/inklore

a/n: I think I would like to consider this story, Is It Tight?, and Wash Day all in the same universe.

Sorry to the people in my taglist who don’t really rock with pegging. It probably won’t happen again. 😭

taglist: @questionable-behaviour @babygotl01292003 @slushycoookie @calig0sto @ghost-lantern

@tatatida @haveclayeveryday @corpsenightmarebride @samjinxx @earth2fae

@maiyart @feegrh32 @darkstalight82 @ladysimp @vmpz8sauceee

@leonsbimbogf @unwrittenletter @madeofstar-dust @leoeloo @just-simpins-blog

@poisamm @thequeenreaders @tinybirdhideout @aly29a2001 @mimi-sanisanidiot

@tojishugetiddies @pigeonmama @av3da @prettygirleli @koikohib

@jaykookies @snails-doodles22 @xo-zeze @plantxella @thedevax

@f1-hoff @stressed-cherry @mozzella @appledressing @abbbbbysvt-17

@woahhajime @vicravluv @xodeity @somniasworld @obsessgurlll

@starboygf @undf-stuff @bmoplanet @alexxavicry @ladysimp

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faeriekit · 4 months ago

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What it's been like to try to get into comics thus far:

Someone tells you to try reading comics online. It's free! Cool. You'll try it. You make a mental note to try an online search when you get home, and go about your day.

You try to find a site that has old comics. You click around. The scroll bar is huge. You recognize none of the names. There are some sets of series that seem to have the same name. You pick one at random. You don't understand what you're looking at. You close the tab. You'll try again tomorrow.

"Try reading _____ series! It's so good!" You look for the series name online. Turns out it's just a nickname. You can't be sure which version of the series it is. The wiki is no help. You'll try again tomorrow.

You watch a show based on the comics characters. It's fun; not groundbreaking, but fun. You look it up online later. Everyone complains about how it's not like the comics' characterizations. The writers did them dirty. You should read the comics instead. You close the forum tab.

"Why don't these idiots just get into comics? All these people are just cluttering up the fandom with their horrible takes on the characters. They clearly have no idea what the actual character/plot/series is like!" Okay. You do want to know, so it's probably worth another try. You'll try again tomorrow.

They didn't include a link. You have no idea what you're looking for without context. You keep looking stuff up and getting different names of series and characters and location. You have no idea where you are, and every beginning seems like the middle of the story. There are four different wikis in your results tab and you're not sure which one is actually the think you're looking for. You'll try again tomorrow.

You read the graphic novels. You like them a lot. You know that's not what they're talking about.

You watch a movie. It has the comic characters in it. You like it. You check it out online to see if other people like it too, and all you see is more complaints about how it differs from the comics. You're doing it wrong.

"People who can't get into comics are just weak. Just pick a random spot and start!" Okay. You go back to that endless scroll bar. You try to start reading something at random. It relies on concepts you haven't been introduced to and character relationships that already have an unseen depth to them. You don't have the context for any of it. You don't understand. Why is it moving so fast? Are you just too tired to understand what's on the page? You'll try again tomorrow, just in case.

You pick an omnibus off the shelf at the library. It starts in the middle of someone else's story and ends up with a cast in the low twenties. You try to keep up. You know who most of the people are, but the focus is so large and the story is so overwhelming that you don't think you really absorbed, like...any of it?? You put it back on the shelf. You'll try it again tomorrow.

You've seen more versions of every character than most fans ever will. You think longingly of what it must be like to be a filthy casual. You bet they're not wondering if they're bad at this hobby late at night. People probably vagueblog about them, too, but they don't even notice. Must be nice.

You watch another movie. It's nice. You end up with an omnibus of a short-run of something, so it's easier to digest. That's nice too. You're just reading to read. It's pleasant.

People argue online about what the BEST characterization of this person is and who's an awful writer and the runs no one should read and the stuff that WAS canon but now it ISN'T and there's the RIGHT stuff to read and the WRONG stuff to read, and some of it is truly terrible. You try to remember what the RIGHT stuff is, or else everyone will know that you're doing this wrong. You have to remember that this is just a hobby. You're having fun. You're supposed to be having fun.

"Fans of THIS adaptation are so annoying; they clog up the real works of appreciators of the original comics run and ruin the characters!" You look at the adaptation. It's officially licensed. Neat. The rest of the stuff you've tried has been official too. It hasn't stopped the vitriol.

You think that some of the fans hold the preciousness of the comics closer to their chest than the actual publisher. You're not sure what to do with that thought. You're so tired. You read another comics-based graphic novel, since it's on the shelf at B&N, and it's good. It's really, really good. You know in your heart it doesn't count as liking comics, and you wish it would get the same appreciation as the famous comics in your fangroups. You know it won't.

A fanauthor you like vagueposts about the idiots who can't even read the fucking comics once every other week. You've almost unfollowed them maybe half a dozen times. If you do, you won't get to see their works when they post. They hate you and they haven't met you, and they have no idea you exist. Okay. Maybe you'll do it tomorrow.

You like the characters. You like your fellow fans' interpretations of them. You like their stories and you love their art and you love sharing ideas with them and you're having fun. You're having fun and you're doing it wrong. No one wants you here and you don't understand what makes a good adaptation as opposed to a bad one if they're both well written and well liked and no one is willing to have a full on conversation without condescending down to you for being a fan without knowing anything. It's been a year. It's been a year and everyone else has been reading since they were knee high and you're behind because it's only been a year and there's cultural history you're only just learning and how dare you be ignorant of it. Don't you know how much you're missing? Don't you know how stupid you are??

You see officially licensed merchandise in the store. It makes you feel weird. You're having fun. You have to be having fun, or else what's the point?

People will do anything with beginner or prospective fans except give them a link to a recommendation. You can like a character, but you can't have a different interpretation of them— that's exclusive to officially licensed adaptations, and even then people will complain. You're on your own. No one will help you.

You're on your own. No one will help you.

You check out a couple of comics-based picture books and a graphic novel that looks interesting. You put a DVD of an adaptation on hold. You're on your own, and no one will help you, but maybe you have a right to have fun by yourself.

You watch. You read. You have fun. It's not enough, but you're...happy. You're pretty sure that's what this is.

Close enough.

#media studies #faer winds #comics

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cokoakeostuff · 9 days ago

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Character List. Hero's paradox

Hi! this post it's gonna be kind of a guide of the 12 Links that make up the story I'll be editing this as I finish all their respective drawings. I won't be specifying their ages but rather an approximate.

> You can read the plot here

> Heights chart

Adventures: Skyward sword Age: 20-24 Young adult]

Now living peacefully with Zelda on the surface, he has found a quiet joy in life.

His days are spent helping Zelda, playing music, or woodcarving

Although the Master Sword is no longer in his possession, he often visits Fi’s resting place, even though he never receives an answer.

Adventures: Minish Cap Age: 11-12 [Kid]

After sealing Vaati, he no longer wields the Four Sword

Don’t let his youth or small stature fool you—underestimating him would be a mistake.

Kind-hearted, honest, and sweet, he never hesitates to lend a helping hand to those in need.

He is the youngest (and shortest)

Adventures: Ocarina of time & Majora's Mask

Age: 20-22 [Young adult]

After saving Hyrule and Termina, he now lives as a traveler, and helps out at Lon Lon Ranch.

Despite everything he has faced, he has never given up on his search for Navi.

He is considering joining the Royal Guard,

He doesn’t fully understand it yet, but he has a small crush on Malon, his childhood friend.

Adventures: Wind Waker & Phantom of hourglass Age: 13-14 [Teen]

He spends much of his time exploring new places with Tetra and always returns with gifts for his little sister.

The most expressive and talkative of them all.

He enjoys joining in whenever the others play music.

Adventures: Spirit Tracks Age: 13-14 [Teen]

He is physically very similar to the Hero of Winds.

As soon as New Hyrule was safe, he was finally able to continue with his passion: trains.

• He tends to be very forgetful and a bit distracted. His constant fatigue from his job doesn’t help, but despite that, he genuinely enjoys it.

Adventures: Twilight Princess

Aliases: Blue-Eyed Beast, Hero of Twilight Age: 19-22 [Young adult]

He misses Midna deeply, more than anything else.

After his adventures, he returned to Ordon, where his heart belongs, taking care of animals and watching over his friends.

He carries a sword at all times—just in case.

[Picture needed]

Adventures: Four swords/adventures (Merged)

Age: 13-15 [Teen]

He’s the one who most recently finished his adventure; he was on his way to return the Four Sword to its pedestal but ended up with the others before he could do so.

The son of a knight, he was a soldier-in-training before setting out on his quest to defeat Vaati.

The Four Sword has had some mysterious side effects on him...

Adventures: A link to the past, Oracle of seasons and ages & Link's awakening

Age: 17-19 [Teen]

He’s often seen wearing a flower—not because he’s particularly fond of them, but because they remind him of Marin.

After his journey to Koholint Island, he finally took a break from seeking adventures; he needed time to process everything he had been through.

He spends his days tending to his collection of artifacts.

[Place holder] Adventures: Link between worlds, & Tri froce Heroes Age: [Teen]

He shares Wild’s love for clothing and owns a dozen (ridiculous) outfits for every occasion.

He keeps the bracelet Ravio gave him as a precious possession; in the end, he learned to appreciate the cowardly, greedy rabbit.

He’s lively and has a peculiar sense of humor. Out of everyone, he’s the one who’s adapted best to teamwork.

Adventures: Zelda I & Zelda II Age: 16-18 [Teen]

He struggles to let his guard down and relax, a result of living in a hostile Hyrule and constantly facing threats to his life.

He usually prefers to rely on magic and spells but won’t hesitate to prove he is a formidable swordsman.

It’s not something he’ll say out loud, but for him, turning into a fairy is probably the most fun thing to do.

[Placeholder] Adventures: Hyrule Warriors Age: 20-23 [Young Adult]

Out of the entire group, he’s probably the one who best understands the situation they’re going through—it feels oddly familiar to him.

He once let reckless overconfidence and ego almost kill him once, so he’s determined not to let that happen again. He might come off as arrogant at first, but it’s nothing more than a joke; in serious moments, he’s sensible and deeply cares for everyone.

He currently dedicates his life to his military career.

[image: Pre-calamity Link] Adventures: Breath of the wild & Tears of the kingdom Aliases: Hylian Champion, Champion of Hyrule, Hero. Age: 20-23 [Young adult]

By the age of four, he was already a prodigious swordsman, capable of besting fully trained knights.

He silently loved Mipha, seeing in her a kind soul who loved him for who he was as a person, not for the hero he was destined to be. Sadly, they never had the chance to confess their feelings to each other.

He became far more talkative and expressive after his awakening. Though he still carries the guilt of his fallen friends and kingdom, he no longer feels the crushing weight of the world’s expectations pressing down on him.

———— thanks for reading!

#the legend of zelda #tloz au #tloz fanart #link fanart #loz link #tp link #tloz totk #tloz art #hero’s paradox

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scribesoflex · 1 year ago

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kinktober ‘23 — 🎃

a/n; im nervous for kinktober but also excited bc if i do it…then you guys will be well fed and I won’t need to write during break and stuff 🤗 also it’s fun to write little works and oneshots based around a kink or scenario instead of having to write a whole story with like…plot 💀 anyways!!! happy spooky season 👻‼️ taglist is now closed…but if you still want to keep up with my kinktober celebration, check back on this masterlist!! all fics will be linked as they are posted 😋 u can also find all fics by searching the tag “— kinktober ‘23 🎃” on my page.

warnings; smut, angst, strong sexual themes, violent sexual scenarios, dark romance themes, all x fem!reader.

characters; ethan landry, jake sully, stiles stilinski, rafe cameron, tobias eaton/four, bruce wayne, finnick o’dair.

d-1 ; ethan landry x breeding kink (drabble)

d-2 ; stiles stilinski x somnophilia (oneshot)

d-3 ; bruce wayne x pain kink (drabble)

d-4 ; rafe cameron x size kink (oneshot)

d-5 ; jake sully x mirror sex (drabble)

d-6 ; finnick o’dair x pussy drunk (drabble)

d-7 ; four x dumbification (oneshot)

d-8 ; rafe cameron x exhibitionism (oneshot)

d-9 ; stiles stilinski x over stimulation (drabble)

d-10 ; jake sully x cunnilingus (drabble)

d-11 ; bruce wayne x age gap (drabble)

d-12 ; stiles stilinski x reverse age gap (drabble)

d-13 ; ethan landry x step sis (oneshot)

d-14 ; four x wax play (drabble)

d-15 ; finnick o’dair x submisson (drabble)

break from 16th through 20th 🎃

d-21 ; ethan landry x creampie (oneshot)

d-22 ; stiles stilinski x expeditionism (drabble)

d-23 ; jake sully x sensation play (drabble)

d-24 ; four x bondage (drabble)

d-25 ; bruce wayne x phone sex (drabble)

d-26 ; rafe cameron x sex tape (oneshot)

d-27 ; finnick o’dair x dub con (drabble)

d-28 ; four x breath play (drabble)

d-29 ; stiles stilinski x dacryphilia (oneshot)

d-30 ; bruce wayne x fear play (drabble)

d-31 ; mystery fic!?

#ethan landry smut #stiles stilinski smut #finnick odair smut #jake sully smut #rafe cameron smut #bruce wayne smut #tobias eaton smut #kinktober

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targaryenluvs · 10 months ago

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AT FIRST SIGHT

PAIRINGS: Dark!Evan Buckley x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Never in his life would Buck have ever thought that he’d end up with the girl of his dreams. How she ended up with him doesn’t matter, right?

WARNINGS: Lovesick Buck, obsession, memory loss, kind of Stockholm syndrome, lying, gaslighting, fluff, kisses

a/n: this literally popped into my head after reading @mrsdarkandyandere7 fic on their firefighter so this is definitely inspired by it, go check it out! i know evan’s character isn’t like this but i just thought it’d be cool to explore maybe what could’ve happened if buck’s breakups and general trauma had taken a toll on him 👀

WORDCOUNT: 3.8K Words

Gif not mine, credits to the owner!

Buck was enjoying his day off when he first saw you, waving his way. He turned his head, expecting a friend of yours to be behind him but was thoroughly surprised when you approached him. “You’re a firefighter aren’t you? I saw you on the news.”

Buck smiled at the recognition and nodded along, “Yeah I am, how’d you know?” You laughed at his joke before smiling, “You did an amazing job there, just wanted to let you know. I know sometimes you don’t get the props you deserve so… just wanted to come over.” You looked gorgeous, and your smile was infectious. Buck had been lonely lately, feeling as if he’s behind everyone else.

Always wondering what would’ve happened if he never changed, at least he’d have girls around, right?

But then, he met you. And all of a sudden, he was glad he wasn’t the original Buck. The Buck who felt the incessant need to get into bed with almost every girl he wants. “I sadly have to get going, but it was nice meeting you.” Enraptured with your smile, he watched you walk away. As he smiled to himself he realised, “Wait! I didn’t—,” You’d entered your apartment already, and he didn’t know your name. But you had left your purse on accident.

He sighed deeply, settling back into the bench he was sat on as his hand tightened around his coffee cup. “Stupid Buck, should’ve asked her name straight away.” Whilst plotting about how he could find out your name, the smell of smoke invaded his senses.

Your building was on fire.

He sprung up straight away, his hands sliding all over his phone whilst calling 911.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“23 Rayweo Drive, there’s a fire!”

“There’s already been multiple calls sir, units are on their way. May I ask who’s calling?”

“Uhh, Evan Buckley. I’m a firefighter!”

“Okay Evan, can you please—,”

All composure faded away the second he saw you at your window, arms waving frantically. “Help! The doors blocked!” The muffled voice coming through his phone was discarded as he made his way up the fire escape. The conjoining apartment had a balcony only about three to four metres from yours, Buck jumped across before grabbing the metal table on yours.

Your apartments glass door shattered as Buck made his way inside, the sirens were getting closer. “Hello? Where are you?” Buck held his arm infront of his face, searching the place for you. “In here!” Your apartment wasn’t fully engulfed yet, the kitchen and entrance were inescapable. But the rest only had small fires, yet to grow. Your bedroom door was untouched but had ceiling debris blocking you from leaving.

Buck went right into action, carelessly throwing the debris to the side before bracing himself, “Move away from the door!” You stood in the corner of the room as Buck pummelled through, ending up on the floor. You rushed over, “Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?” His coughs were rapid, “I’m— i’m okay, let’s get you out of here…” A soft smile came across your lips, “Y/n.” He smiled back, “Buck.” The two of you slowly made your way out, but you stopped and stared.

A painting of yourself and your best friends, hung on the wall. The frame was gold, and melting. Your first ever apartment, up in flames with some of the most precious memories and moments of your life. “Hey, I know it’s a bit of a shock but we need to go.” Buck turned around to look at you, and at the right moment since the ceiling caved in on you. “Wait!”

Your hand waved around trying to grasp something as you held your breath. Were you going to die? All you could feel was a throbbing pain in your head, you’d fallen head first. And as your eyes closed you felt two hand grasp your arm, attempting to pull you out. “Stay with me!” Buck pleaded.

You woke up as you were being lifted onto the stretcher, eyes adjusting to the brightness. “Where— what’s happening?” The paramedic to your right smiled, “Welcome back, can you tell me your name?”

“Y/n/n!” Buck rushed to your side as you smiled, “Buck.” His hands brushed away the hair from your face, “Yeah, I’m here. Right here baby.” You smiled as they lifted you into the ambulance. Buck looked up, “I’m riding with you guys Hen.” The girl, who you assumed to be Hen nodded. You held onto Bucks hand the entire ride, earning some stares from Hen and Chimney.

When they thought you were out, they started questioning him. “You know her don’t you?” He nodded, “I do.” You opened your eyes, as everyone’s attention fell back on you, “Hey there, how ya feeling?” Chimney asked as you smiled, “Good, heads hurting a lot though.” Hen nodded, “You did take a bit of a fall, it’s a given. Your vitals look normal, seems like it’s just a concussion and some smoke inhalation. A few nicks and bruises, you’ll be out in no time sweetheart.”

“She’s right, you’re gonna be okay. Is there anyone you’d like us to call?”

“My mom. Her number is…” Your eyebrows furrowed at your lapse of memory. “Her number is…” You tried again to no avail, “Oh my god, I can’t remember. Why can’t I remember?” Hens face drained, “Uhm, you may have hit your head harder than we thought. Is your phone on you?” You shook your head, “It broke when I fell.”

The ceiling was all of a sudden the most interesting thing in that ambulance. How the hell did you forget your own mother’s number? You tried your hardest to recall but it was hopeless. You tried your fathers, and nothing.

“Maybe a sibling? A boyfriend?”

“I don’t have siblings. No I do, a sister maybe? Or is it a brother? My boyfriend… I—,” Buck watched as you tried your hardest to remember things, and he hated it. He felt horrible, watching you struggle. He just wanted to shout at you that he was here, you didn’t need anybody else. He muttered under his breath, “I could be your boyfriend.” You turned your head, “You’re my boyfriend?” Hen and Chimney looked up at him, “You’re the man? Why haven’t you said anything?”

He was going to disagree, he really was. But with you looking up at him so hopefully he couldn’t help himself. “I didn’t want to confuse her, especially if she didn’t remember. That’s not wrong.. is it?”

You shook your head. “No, no it’s not. I’m just glad you’re here.”

The last few days had been a blur, sitting around or laying down. Nurses fluttering in and out with a million questions of ‘How are you feeling?’ or ‘Do you need anything else?’

Yes, to go home. You wish you could yell at them, but then again, you didn’t have a home. But through it all, you had your boyfriend. Who was nothing short of a gentleman. Always with a smile on his face, always asking how you were. And with him you just wanted to answer his questions.

“Discharge papers are all signed, you’re free to go sweetie.” The nurse beamed as you sighed, “Thank you so much. Have a nice day.” As she left you squealed before hugging Buck, “Whoa there, slow down sweetheart.” You rushed back, “I’m sorry, I’m just so ready to leave this place, and eat real food.”

Buck laughed at your growling stomach, “I promise to cook for you every night.” He pledged with a hand to his heart, “Oh shut up! Quick question, does this mean I’ll be staying with you? Until I find a new place and talk to my insurance company?” Buck frowned at the idea of you leaving him, “I know this might seem a bit quick but, what’s the point in you moving out? When you could just move in with me? I mean… you’d never have to worry about a fire with me.”

You grinned at him whilst picking up your purse and slinging it over your shoulder. “I already look like you since I’m wearing your clothes. You sure you want me 24/7?” He’d want you glued to him if he could. “Of course, I could never get sick of someone so pretty.” Buck flirted as your cheeks heated up, his hand traced your back sending tingles up your spine. He cupped your face and brought you closer.

Your lips were soft and sweet, the lip-balm you used was flavourful and he couldn’t get enough. His hand traced down your back, pulling you closer into him as you smiled into him, “Buck.” Your voice was muffled as he continued on, you put your hands on his chest and pushed back, “Stop, we’re in public.” You giggled as he threw his head back, “If anyone looks at you I’ll just punch em’.” You gasped, “Buck!”

He raised his arms, “What?” The two of you finished packing up before saying your goodbyes to the nurses that had taken care of you. “You never told me you had a jeep.” Buck laughed, “I was kind of hoping you’d remember, you love her.” You nodded at his words, “I can definitely see why I did, or do.” When you arrived at his place you were irrevocably in love.

“I love the exposed brick!” Buck set your purse down on the counter as you ran your hands along the walls before making your way to the couch. “And the couch is tucked away, it’s like a bit of privacy yknow?�� Buck leaned against the counter with his arms crossed, “Well duh, you’re the one that helped me pick it.” He knew you hadn’t of course, but it was somehow easy for him to block her out and replace her with you.

“I did?” You looked his way as he walked over before standing in between your legs, “You loved this place a lot. So I got it as a surprise.” You smiled at him before pulling him down on top of you, “Why don’t we spend the rest of the day at home, and you tell me all about you and me?” He smiled at the sound of ‘home’, your home.

And that’s exactly what happened, the rest of the day he spent making up an ideal version of the two of you. Of how you met, how the two of you were yet to tell anyone since you really loved keeping it to the two of yourselves. And how he was always a ‘in the moment’ type person, explaining the lack of photos together. You then went out to buy yourself a new phone, and trade over the SIM card.

“Hey babe?” You called out to him as he cooked in the kitchen, “Yeah what’s up?” He glanced over his shoulder to you, “I can’t find you in my phone.” Buck breathed in, he forgot about that. “We… had a bit of a fight the day before. Pretty sure you blocked me or something, and since I’m petty, I did the same thing.” You stared at your phone in confusion, “I’ve never blocked someone, especially over something as simple as an argument.”

“Well, you have. Your brains a bit fuzzy babe, it’ll come back to you soon enough.” You glanced up at him, suspicion filling through you. “Alright, can I grab your phone and put my number in?” He nodded before pointing to the bed upstairs. You jogged upstairs before unplugging his phone. “My birthday.” You quickly filled in the password and were met with a million messages and calls.

Hen: Buckkkk, reply to us. Are you okay?

Cap 🔥: Buck, you need to call in if you’re not coming.

Maddie ❤️: YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND?

Eddie: There’s no way you have a girlfriend and just forgot to tell me.

Eddie: I’m coming over.

These guys must be his friends and coworkers. But you couldn’t help but wonder, had he seriously not told any of them that he has a girlfriend? Not even a hint? The last text from Eddie was only half an hour ago, which meant—

RING!

The doorbell rung out as you made your way downstairs, “Hey, no I’ll grab the— door.” Buck was late to it, as you swiftly opened the door to reveal, “Eddie!” He smiled, “Hey Buck, and you must be?” You grinned, “Y/n, but you can just call me Y/n/n. Please, come in!” You opened the door wider to reveal a kid, “And who’s this?” Eddie had his hand on the kids back, “Y/n, meet my son Christopher.” You kneeled infront of him before stretching out your hand, “Well hello there Chris, I’m Y/n and it is very nice to meet you.”

“Hello Y/n. Buck never told us he had a girlfriend.” You laughed at the comment as the two shuffled in before settling on the couch, “Well, if it’s any consolation, we hadn’t really told anyone yet. So technically you’re the first to officially meet me. None of my friends or family know about Buck yet.” Chris smiled, “What do you mean officially?”

“Well technically, everyone’s kind of met me already but I was rescued from a fire.” Eddies face dropped, “Oh my god, I completely forgot to ask, are you doing okay? It must’ve have been hard to recover.” You appreciated his empathy, “Yeah, it was a bit difficult at first but I was in the hospital. I mean, it was my first apartment and it went up in flames, it’s pretty hard to just get over it. But Buck has been an absolute angel, I’m really lucky to have him with me. I’ve been having memory issues, to the point where I wake up and forget where I am,”

“Oh god, have you been put on any medication?” You nodded, “I have, and it’s been helping. I think with the days my memory will come back. I mean I didn’t even remember Buck and I were together in the ambulance.” You laughed as you looked over at Buck, he chuckled at the joke whilst Eddies eyes flicked between the two of you before laughing dryly.

“Dinners ready!” Buck shouted out, the conversation was getting a bit too much for his liking. The four of you stuck to light topics at the dinner table on account of Christopher as well as you. And it was super enjoyable for you, Eddie is an amazing father and you could see how close Buck was with him and Chris.

“Well I think it’s time for this one to go to bed.” Eddie rose up before collecting the plates, “Hey no, you’re a guest, you don’t have to clean up.” You spoke as you grabbed the plates from him, “No no, you should be resting Y/n/n.” You both made your way around, “Okay we can both do them. You wash, I dry.” Buck sat on the couch with Chris playing video games, whilst simultaneously trying to eavesdrop.

“It’s way too late for the two of you to be driving home no? I’m sure you could stay. Me and Chris upstairs and the men on the floor seems just right,” Eddie threw his head back laughing, “Ohh, I see how it is!” You bumped his side and he bumped right back.

If all of Bucks friends were this great, he would’ve had to be one of the luckiest people around.

Chris and Eddie did end up staying the night, but the two men couldn’t sleep. So Eddie and Buck ended up having a few late night drinks, “So, Y/n. She’s absolutely incredible. So I have zero clue how you ended up with her.” Buck shoved his arm, “Hey I am a catch.”

“That I’d throw right back out.” Eddie joked as Buck rolled his eyes, “But you never told us anything about her, and I’m not gonna lie, I’m a bit disappointed. We usually talk about everything Buck. And I know you well enough to know when you’re talking to someone.” Buck sighed, “It’s… complicated.”

And the weight of his secret was bound to come crashing down at some point, right?

Eddie stood with his head in his hands trying to understand everything his best friend had tried to tell him. “So you kidnapped her?” Buck immediately turned to him, “What? No! We were in the ambulance and she assumed I was her boyfriend, and god if you’d seen the look on her face you’d understand why I said yes. She was all alone, her apartment was burned down and her phone was broken. Maybe if it was some random person I wouldn’t have said yes, but I’d talked to her before. I knew she didn’t deserve anything that was happening to her. And she wouldn’t have a place to go if she couldn’t even remember her friends or a phone number.”

“So you took her in, to be a nice person? Were you going to kick her out when she remembered? What if she calls the cops?” Eddies head had about a million scenarios rushing through right now, “Eddie, please. You know me, I’m not a bad guy. If she starts to remember then I’ll tell her. But, we’ve gotten along so well these past few days, like you said she’s incredible.”

“Oh god, don’t tell me you fell in love with her.”

“Well…” Buck scratched the back of his neck as Eddie groaned, “Buck are you serious?” Eddie screeched, “Shh! Do you want to wake her up? Look, if she realises then I’ll explain everything I promise. But it’s not like I’m holding her hostage. I’m just trying to give her a place to call home before she gets back out there.”

“Buck, she calls you ‘babe’, and you do too. You have a million nicknames for her. Every time you get the opportunity you kiss her. It’s wrong, she has no clue what’s happening here.” Eddie tried to rationalise with him but it was no use. Buck sighed, “I know, it’s just— I know her. I met her before the fire and she was so nice, I was going to ask her out but then this all happened. And it’s not like she doesn’t like me either, is it really so wrong?”

“I guess not, but you need to tell her. If she really likes you, then I guess she’ll give you another chance to actually take her out.” Buck rushed forwards and hugged him, “You think she’ll give me another chance? Thank you Eddie!” Eddie scoffed, “You really like her huh?” Buck couldn’t help but look back up at you, “I do.”

Your eyes were wide open, adjusted to the dark. Eddie and Bucks conversation was playing over and over in your head, he lied to you. But again he wanted to keep you safe, would you be homeless right now if it weren’t for him? Or would you have found a friend?

The good and bad parts of the situation were equal in your eyes. He’d been lying to you, kissing you and treating you as if you were his girlfriend. Taking advantage of your state of mind, but you’d met before, and he was going to ask you out. And if he had, you knew what your answer would have been.

Yes.

And it wasn’t as if he was dangerous, or at least you hoped not. Tiredness came over you, the last thing you remember hearing being the sound of Bucks voice wishing you sweet dreams.

By the time you woke up Eddie and Chris were long gone, Buck was busy cooking up breakfast. “There you are sleepyhead.” His smile was always bright when directed at you, and with the morning glow you could only see the good. “Buck, we need to talk.”

Who knew five words could strike such fear?

And you sat infront of him, “I know. I know about the fire, and the fact that you aren’t my boyfriend. And hey—,” Buck didn’t waste a second apologising, “I’m so so sorry I knew I should’ve told you straight away. But when you said I was I went along with it and that was stupid. But I didn’t want you to be alone and if you want to go I will—,” Your laugh stopped him in his tracks, “It’s okay Buck. I’m not mad, well I am a little since you’ve been kissing up on me every chance you get but… you’re just a bit dumb in how you went about it.”

Buck smiled as he set out breakfast for the both of you, “Now how about this. We finish up breakfast and then you take me out on a proper date where we get to make all of our firsts for real. I really do like you Buck, your heart was in the right place, execution? Not so much.”

And the rest of the morning you spent laughing at Buck and his love sickness. “You know you’re kind of obsessed with me, it’s a bit creepy.” Bucks face immediately drained, he stared at your back as you washed the dishes. “But my heart was in the right place right?” He sounded desperate with the sentence, “Sure.”

You liked Buck, there was no denying it, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of weirdness.

As the two of you continued getting to know eachother Bucks happiness sky rocketed. And everyone could tell, “If you smile any longer we’ll need to tattoo it onto your face Buck.” Bobby joked as everyone teased Buck, “I am in a happy, loving relationship. Be proud of me.” Eddie couldn’t help himself, “Does she know that?”

The whole table burst out laughing as Buck groaned, “She has her memory back can we please not joke about it.” Hen pointed at him with her fork, “Trust me, we’re not laughing at her, we’re laughing at you Lover Boy!” The footsteps coming up the stairs were drowned out by the sea of laughter, “If Shakespeare was alive you’d for sure be an inspiration Buck.” Chimney spoke from the kitchen.

“Wonder what he’d name it.” Your voice caused the five of them to turn your way, “Y/n!” Eddie shouted as you engulfed him in a tight hug. “If I squeeze too hard you’ll forget my name,” He joked as you punched his abdomen, “Don’t make me hurt you.”

“There’s the famous Mrs Buckley.” Bobby smiled as you made your way over to him, “Cap!” He opened his arms up to you as Buck grinned, his team finally meeting you made him feel happy. “Great to finally meet you, but I feel like we already know you.” He spoke as he pulled out a chair for you. “He’s right, Lover Boy never shuts about you.” Chimney teased as you kissed Bucks cheek.

“Well aren’t you sweet? We all know how lovesick he is I presume?” The team laughed as Buck rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah let’s get the jokes out the way.” You smiled before holding onto his hand.

Buck downplayed just how much he loved his team, they were like a family, and now you were apart of it too. Buck was grateful to be in it, especially with you being the new addition. But every once in a while he couldn’t help but remember how he got you.

Love At First Sight.

#911 x reader #911 fanfic #911 imagine #evan buckley x fem!reader #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley #evan buckley x you #dark!evan buckley x reader #yandere 911 #yandere 911 x reader

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eliza-forget · 3 months ago

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PLEASE tell us more about your Leshy and the two cats!!!!! The cats are so pretty and also so is your art. I love your art so so so so so much 💖

Well, I'll start by saying that the Leshy himself in my AU is quite dark, violent, and traumatized. He survived the sudden betrayal of Narinder (as the one he trusted and looked up to most as a child), he survived all the turmoil associated with the fact that faith in the bishops was shaken, I call this period as "shaky", and the whole four were on the verge of losing their authority. And already during the game's storyline, Lamb's campaigns, Heket died. In my Au, which is mostly based on my insane playthrough of the game, Leshy was the last Bishop to be killed by Lamb. I mean, there was this sequence: Heket> Shamura> Kallamar. I have that point actually explained in the storyline, but that's not what the main question is about xd.

In the works, where you see him in the clothes of a follower (yes-yes that red one), has its own meaning. It's like a sign of his acceptance of a new way of life and to some extent, a rejection of the past. In this story, he's processing his traumas, learning the ways and lives of mortals, and then he makes two close friends: those two cats.

In general, I can characterize my Leshy as a personality. He changes slowly, but throughout the narrative in my Au. Leshy is still the Bishop of Chaos, in terms of character, but has softened a bit because of his environment in which he resides.

Tirena

Let me briefly tell you about Tirena's storyline. Her parents were nomads who came from other lands to the lands of the Old Faith. They mostly moved between locations, but eventually stopped at Darkwood.In fact, Tirena's family was loyal to what was happening in the lands and tried to please all the local cruel rules. The turning point of the plot for Tirena came at the time of her coming of age, for which her parents sacrificed themselves to the bishop, and she was given a necklace (but not the one she wears now) in memory of her parents. As a result of which she ran away from the place. Stumbled upon Lamb by accident, from behind a campfire in the night. So in the story, she showed up in his settlement and became a devoted disciple in the future, but still with an unconcealed grudge against the bishops.

In comic, she got into an altercation with Narinder on the same topic.

Yolk (yellow cat)

Yolk's former name was Najulmer, and he changed his name at the settlement. His parents were the same cultists who, long after Leshy's death, continued the resistance. Yolk did not share the same point of view with them; he was more interested in studying the world around him, and specifically its strange inhabitants. So he set out on his wanderings in search of that "paradise" by which he meant the Lamb's settlement. Along the way meeting various companions, studying monsters and even cooking with them. He has already been rescued by Lamb when he was trapped by the treachery of his recent companion. In the settlement he quickly finds contact with Tirena, or rather she has to tolerate his intrusive company. Then Lamb returns from a camping trip and summons Leshy from purgatory and he becomes both a nightmare for Yolk, but and an intriguing object of study. He btw yes, never once saw the bishops and didn't even know that Leshy was one.

Somehow that's what the plot of these three sounds like. I hope it was interesting and informative to learn about them!

#cotl #cult of the lamb #cult of the lamb art #cult of the lamb fanart #cotl fanart #cotl leshy #cotl yellow cat #cotl yolk #bishopau #I haven't slept

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balletthebestphotographs · 9 days ago

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Margarita Shrainer and Dmitry Dorokhov

Margarita Shrainer Маргарита Шрайнер and Dmitry Dorokhov Дмитрий Дорохов, “Just”, music by David Lang, choreo and design by Simone Valastro. As part of the program “Four Characters in Search of a Plot” (“The Ninth Wave” by Mikhail Glinka Михаил Глинка, Nikolay Rimsky Korsakov Николай Римский Корсаков and Bryan Arias; “Silentium” by Arvo Pärt and Martin Chaix; “Fading” by Enrique Granados and Dimo Milev Димо Милев and “Just”), Bolshoi Ballet Большой театр, Moscow, Russia (November 16-17, 2024; New Stage).

Source and more info at: Photographer Damir Yusupov Дамир Юсупов (Damir has no social media accounts known to me) via: Dmitry Dorokhov on Telegram (channel) Dmitry Dorokhov on Facebook Dmitry Dorokhov on Instagram (ballet) Dmitry Dorokhov on Instagram (photography)

Note I: This blog is open to receiving and considering any suggestions, contributions, and/or criticisms that may help correct mistakes or improve its content. Comments are available to any visitor.

Note II: Original quality of photographs might be affected by compression algorithm of the website where they are hosted.

Note III: Some links leading to the English version do not work or contain incomplete information. For this reason, they are published in their original version. You always have the option to translate the page using the right-click on your mouse.

#Bolshoi Ballet Большой театр #Damir Yusupov Дамир Юсупов #David Lang #Dmitry Dorokhov Дмитрий Дорохов #Four Characters in Search of a Plot #Just #Margarita Shrainer Маргарита Шрайнер #November 16 2024 #Simone Valastro #Ballet #Russian Ballet #Dancer #Ballerina #Balerina

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i-live-here-in-my-house · 12 days ago

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Thinking about a world where Sega and Capcom came together and gave us what we all deserve: a Sonic X Ace Attorney crossover game. I would think it'd lean more into a visual novel style, maybe with some parts more similar to the Investigation games where you play as Sonic in kinda an isometric platforming stage? Honestly that part isn't as fully formed in my mind.

Some sort of Eggman plot ends up getting everyone accidentally sent to the world of AA while he's on the search for some kinda spirit channeling maguffin to aid him in a take-over-the‐world-plot. And of course Phoenix "luckiest unlucky man ever" Wright ends up getting himself stuck right in the middle of it all.

For the first/tutorial case I think Sonic would absolutely need to be the defendant. I would think the events of the case probably take place either the same day of or the day after the Sonic cast gets transported into the world. Something along the lines of Sonic not having an alibi because he was moving too fast for them to see him would be a perfect kinda turnabout twist to combine the logic of both series together imo.

Also throughout the whole game there would 100% be a running gag about people mistaking Phoenix and Sonic for eachother purely because of Wright's hair and Sonic's quills

Case two's defendant is a toss up between Knuckles or Tails imo, I lean more towards Knuckles being the one though for one very important reason. Tails would be perfect for the Ace Attorney 'weird girl assistant' role. Obviously Sonic would be tagging along too (because no way in hell would you not be able to have both protagonists hanging out together) but Tails would be totally down to help and Sonic, while he totally wants to help Knux, is very much in a "I could just break him out and be back before they could even notice he's gone" mood which is causing Phoenix just SO much grief.

I think this would probably break from the general mold of AA and not be a murder case and instead be a larceny case, with Knuckles being accused of the crime due to his digging skills, and the fact that tunnels were found all around the property of the stolen object. This is where we learn about this spirit channeling macguffin through either a Pearl cameo, who we learn through fluff dialogue is now an honorary member of Team Rose due to how well she gets along with them. It turns out to actually be Rouge who stole the macguffin under orders from G.U.N to keep it out of Eggman's hands meaning she doesn't sentenced for the crime since she technically didn't break any laws.

Case three's defendant would be Big the Cat because I think it'd be funny. Something along the lines of Big looking for Froggy and ending up at a totally unrelated murder scene. You play as Apollo in this case because he's my favorite boy and I think it'd be funny to watch him struggle with having to deal with Big. Just a general silly case full of wacky crossover fun before getting more seriously into the plot with the final two cases. Also the Chaotix are there because you can't have a mystery game without detective. Are the helping? Are they against you? Not really sure. But it'd be a massive missed opportunity to NOT include them.

Amy would be case four's defendant, with her piko piko hammer being found at the scene and Omega's body being found in pieces. That's right! I think it'd be interesting to have a named character be the victim of one of these cases, but obviously I'm not gonna kill anyone off. I think Omega would be the best pick though since he's a robot and it'll take time for Tails to fix him from the totally wrecked state he's in. I think it'd be fun to have Shadow as a key witness in this case, believing Amy did it. He doesn’t want to suspect she did something like this, but claims he saw her in the act of tearing Omega apart with her hammer, take the macguffin and then bolt.

It goes without saying it's obviously Eggman trying to frame Amy for this, using Metal Sonic to frame her by using his shape shifting powers from Heros to disguise himself as her, take apart Omega to retrieve the macguffin, and get it to Eggman. Leading into the final case.

The final case would be a continuation from there with out heros all joining together to try and stop Eggman from using the machine being powered by the Macguffin. Maybe something about Phoenix needing to come with because his magatama is able to counteract it...? Idk. Get that mandatory Edgeworth cameo in there with it being revealed that him and Franziska were teaming up with Team Dark the whole game to help put a stop to things (Giving us fun Phoenix + Sonic and Edgeworth + Shadow parallels). Of course the heros manage to put a stop to things and everyone goes back to their own world yadda yadda happy ending.

This came out way longer than I expected haha but I hope y'all like the concept! If I had the patience I'd totally write this as a fan fic but I know I don't so if anyone wants to take my idea and expand on it absolutely do it! Just let me know so I can read it too. :3

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thesoftboiledegg · 1 year ago

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"Unmortricken" was a lot. In fact, it might have been a little too much.

To start, I loved the glimpse of what exists outside the Central Finite Curve. The visuals were stunning and reminded me of M.C. Escher's drawings. The Jetson-like family was a nice touch--if anything can happen, who says they can't have different animation styles? All those colorful portals make me wonder what's lurking just out of sight.

It's also funny that the space outside the Curve is full of Rick's favorite thing: crystals. If he took a trip there, he'd come back with his pockets stuffed with gemstones.

Evil Morty's reappearance gave us a decent character study. Since he wasn't the antagonist, we saw him interact with the C-137s as a regular person. Morty's a little impressed, and Rick has a grudging respect for him. Others have called Evil Morty the Rickest Morty, and I agree: similar intelligence, similar technology and similar bloodthirst.

I was glad that he left in the end because that's what his character arc is about anyway. He doesn't want to be part of anyone else's story, not even another Morty's.

However, that's also part of the issue that I had with this episode. Seeing Evil Morty was great, but it was also a little...pointless? You could've had the same story without him. He's not working with Prime, and he has no ties to C-137 after "Rickmurai Jack," so it felt like the writers just said "Hey, you know what would be cool?"

I'm not against writers having fun and giving the audience what they want. "Spider-Man: No Way Home" (yeah, groan at me, Marvel haters) is fan service in blockbuster form, and it was one of the best theater experiences I've ever had.

Still, if Evil Morty came back, I think he should've had a separate episode. The episode juggled C-137 Rick, Morty, Evil Morty and Prime Rick pretty well, giving them satisfying interactions with each other, but no Evil Morty would've meant more relationship development for the C-137s.

Evil Morty's backstory also didn't reveal much about him. I mean--yeah, we all figured that he had an abusive Rick and got fed up. The fact that he had a "regular" Rick instead of a deranged lunatic does make a point about the banality of abuse. Monsters aren't always raving maniacs who torture people in their basements. Ordinary people can wear you down with a slow drip of toxicity and neglect.

I enjoyed this episode, and Evil Morty's return was exciting, but cramming the series' two biggest antagonists and storylines into twenty minutes was a little overwhelming. New plot developments kept showing up, too: Rick found Prime! Prime's various lairs! Omega device! I would've preferred a two-parter.

I'll admit that if you told me that we'd see Evil Morty and Rick Prime in the same shot, I never would have believed you, but here we are.

On that note, Prime's characterization was perfect. No attempt at a cutesy, sad backstory; he's a laughing monster until the end. And is it really the end? He has regeneration abilities, but C-137 acts like he's dead and even gives up the search. This leaves us with a few options:

C-137 killed him.

Prime fooled C-137 into thinking that he's dead when he isn't.

C-137's keeping him alive for later use.

Hopefully, this is more complicated than it looks because I'll be disappointed if this is the end of Prime. He's a brilliant reflection of C-137: the Rick he'd be without his tiny shred of humanity.

And Prime's a maniac, but he tells C-137 the truth. Rick broke into Prime's house. He pretended he belonged with this group of strangers. He latched on to Prime's grandson because he never had his own. His brutal, violent streak never went away no matter how long he tried to play house.

Prime says "Admit it! You would have been me!" In season three and parts of season four, Rick was close. His love for his family--love that he pretended he didn't have--and desire for their approval just barely pulled him back. But what kept that spark alive? How close was he to becoming a cold, unfeeling shell?

In the end, C-137's not satisfied after he destroys Prime--and weirdly, I'm not satisfied, either. Beating Prime to an unrecognizable pulp doesn't bring Rick's original family back. It doesn't erase the atrocities that Rick's committed. It doesn't make his grief go away. It doesn't change the fact that Rick teetered on the edge of turning into the monster that he despised.

What's more satisfying is that Rick didn't turn out like Prime. His Morty doesn't give two shits about Prime, but he loves him. He hugs him in relief (come on, Rick, hug him back already!), cries out "Rick? Rick!" and shakes his body when he thinks he's dead, and talks excitedly as they return home.

Rick's going to therapy, which Prime would have mocked. He went from having nobody to living with FIVE kids if you count Morty and Summer. Even he and his Jerry are pretty tight.

Rick knows this, but he still feels empty all the time. Vengeance doesn't work, drinking doesn't work...wouldn't it be easier if he just switched off his humanity and laughed at everything, even his own death?

But now that he knows how it feels to be loved, especially by his hypothetical grandson, I think he'll always find himself at the Smiths' doorstep.

#rick and morty #rick sanchez #morty smith #prime rick #weird rick #rick prime #evil morty #boy that's quite the collection of tags #unmortricken #season seven #review

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sendothetaurus · 8 months ago

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How to write good dialogue

Almost every story needs dialogue - obvious right? Well, this post is about the not-so-obvious sides of conversations. I've struggled a LOT with snappy and realistic speech, so I've made it my mission to collect some handy directives. Here is what I found:

Contents

Information Dumps

Setup And Payoff

Characterization Through Dialogue

Three Simple Questions

Four-Sides Model

Depth

About Answers

Sources And Credits

⮮ Let's go! (^▽^) ⮯

Information Dumps

Everybody knows them, everybody hates reading them. But how do we avoid them? Something really clicked for me when I understood context. If your character talks about something that happened in the past, they don't need to explain what happened. They were there. Here's an example:

"It would be nice if we at least got a B for that paper. Since I will go to college next year, I feel that this is important to me."

The speaker and the listener should be aware of the exposition (regarding their last year at high school). During dialogue, these conditions go without saying.

Setup And Payoff

Instead of dumping everything at once, let the reader guess what's happening. This is done by mentioning something that is not answered right away. Also dropping hints can increase tension.

Scene 1 "Why do you always carry that with you?" she asked and pointed at the box cutter. Her friend eyed her with suspicion. "For cutting." "Yeah, but why?" "Might come in handy sometime." Scene 2 An ice cold shiver ran down her spine as her fingers felt around the bag, searching for the familiar shape. There was nothing. The other tossed the thing onto the floor between them. "Care to elaborate?" She couldn't have known. "How could you!"

Someone definitely has a secret here that they don't want uncovered. It makes the reader speculate: Does she carry the knife to defend herself or does she plan on hurting someone with it?

Characterization Through Dialogue

The general rule of thumb is: Show not tell. If a character is shy, self-absorbed or chaotic, make them act like it. Also, readers take part in the characterization of your protagonists. Make them guess why a character acts a certain way.

"C- can I have your pen?" She twirled her thumbs and looked at the ground. "What the hell, no!" Disgusted, he brushed off his hands on the front of his jeans. "I'mma better disinfect that."

Notice how the girl is stuttering and the boy has a loose tongue. Mannerisms help identifying traits in a character. Everyone has a distinct way to speak (e.g. relaxed, polite, malignly) which makes it easier to tell them apart. Sometimes there is a difference between speech and behavior. This can be quite useful to highlight conflict inside a character.

Three Simple Questions

Who wants what from who?

Why now?

What happens if they don't get it?

These questions ensure plot consistency. For question 3 the only other outcome is conflict. Conversations thrive off of conflict and it is of benefit to have a supplicant and potential provider for a solution. It's basically intention versus obstacle.

1. She wants to be his wife. He doesn't want a marriage. 2. She is pregnant. 3. She needs to provide for a baby all on her own.

Tadaa, a conflict ensues.

Four-Sides Model

The four-sides model is a theory on communication. It assumes that a message has four distinct ways of being conveyed:

Facts -> data, facts, truth and relevance

Self-Disclosure -> explicit and implicit information about the own mindset; likes, dislikes, opinions

Relationship -> information about whether the person is liked or detested; approval and disapproval; "I assume you have [this] opinion of me"; body language

Want -> a direct attempt to influence the behavior of another person; advice, desire or instruction

Since this is highly technical stuff, I'll provide you with an example:

Customer: "I always drink my coffee black." 1. Fact: The coffee I drink is black. 2. Self-Disclosure: I like black coffee. 3. Relationship (POV of the waiter): Did I do something wrong? OR It's their fault! They ordered the wrong thing! 4. Want: Bring me black coffee.

Controlling the message through sender and receiver gives a new level of influence to an author. The relationship-level is the bottleneck in a conversation that holds the most potential for misunderstandings. I'm trying to be aware of it when I write subtext (see below).

Depth

On the nose dialogue is what we want to avoid at all costs. For this reason subtext is created in stories. Read this:

Scene 1 A: "I like you." B: "Nah, I don't like you back. You're so annoying." A: "Ouch, that hurts. I'm not sure if I heard that right." B: "We were never friends. Go away."

This is not how conversations work. Thankfully, dialogue like this is not entirely useless. It conveys what the characters really want to say. The challenge is to think of a way to not say the thing but keep a similar meaning.

The true meaning behind the dialogue is called subtext (scene 1). If I don't know how to continue after a certain line, I write down the subtext first before I decide on how to paraphrase it.

Finally, I add a fitting description of expression and body language if needed. I try to keep it short and simple.

Check this out:

Scene 2 She tucked her hair behind her ear. "I need a ride home later. Are you free?" -> I like you. "Sorry, all seats' re taken," he said without looking at her. -> Nah, I don't like you back. You're so annoying. "Uhm, okay. But I'm small. You could fit me in the footwell, honestly." -> Ouch, that hurts. I'm not sure if I heard that right. He leaned forward as if he had the urge to stand. "Ha, funny. But no, I'm not planning on doing something illegal tonight." -> We were never friends. Go away.

A character's action depends on their own intention and the other's response. I feel it is easier to keep track of what's happening behind the curtains when it's written alongside the dialogue.

Simultaneously, you can keep habits and traits in check. Does the the character apply all criticism to themselves? Are they disregarding or constantly marginalizing others? Do they worry only for themselves or solely for others? Subtext truly is the most powerful tool in conversation-writing.

About Answers

Did you know that you don't have to answer every single question? In fact, there are two other ways to show an emotion without telling it.

The first one is called sidestepping. The character ignores the posed question and carries on with an entirely different topic.

A: "Do you still love me?" B: "We should get going."

It's very obvious, right? By sidestepping the question, we can assume that the character is uncomfortable or angry with the other person.

The other way to answer is actually a bit paradoxical. Through silence, a great variety of emotions can be displayed. It is recommended to refrain from actually describing silence with words like "he remained silent", "he refused to say anything", "he never responded".

- The laptop hummed. - The birds chirped in the trees. - She felt her legs going numb from sitting in an uncomfortable position. - His eyes wandered around, searching the parking lot for a familiar face.

It feels more natural to explain the things that grab our attention when we sit in silence.

This is it, folks. That's all I could find on the topic - for now. If there's anything missing, I'd love to hear it.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ Anyway, thanks for reading, I hope this helped ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

My sources are this and this video as well as this article.

Also a big thank you to @zoropookie for helping me with the colors ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

#writing dialogue #writing tips #writing #writing advice

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orchidyoonkook · 8 months ago

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To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 6 | M

Title: Eastern Arrivals and Unwanted Doubt

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Mild Royalty AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: Nel's here for the week and you couldn't be more excited!! Jungkook's another story though...

Warnings: M, fluff, smut, swearing, drinking, pining, angsstt, slight boundary pushing (not sexual), unwanted/ unneeded overprotectiveness, jealousy, lying, [reader eats bacon and eggs but it's not specified what kind or where it's from, just bacon and eggs, so whether that means veggie, vegan or normal is up to you], intentional pissing off of Nel, a little spat between major characters, sex as a plot device.

Mature warnings under the cut.

Word Count: 6,945

Release Date: April 20, 2:00PM

A/N 1: 6 months later and we have chapter 6! slow updates, but they will be written and they will be posted. I have no plans to abandon this, I just, very unfortunately, have a bit of an outernet life now. So not a lot of free time to be creative which I hate. But it's here!!

Series: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five

Mature Warnings: Consensual sex x 2, both reader with Nel and JK with Ady -> sorry not sorry cuz it's plot sex. We got us some: kissing, protected sex (as we should), missionary, fingering, oral (f. rec), tiny bit of groping (consenual), multiple orgasms, loud sex, like annoyingly, sex as a terrible coping mechanism (imo), fantasizing.

Bouncing lightly from foot to foot, you’re buzzing after finally receiving the text you were waiting on a few minutes ago.

Nelly <3 [10:10pm]: Landed. See you soon 😘

He’s almost here. He’s almost here!

Just a few more seconds until—

The gates slide open. A flood of people in a mixture of sweats and business casual wear with luggage of all sizes and neck pillows walk through. You hold up the sign above your head with both hands, a smile that could outshine the sun plastered on your face, and search.

Where is he? Where is he, where is he, where is he, you think as you scour the bodies filing out of the automatic doors. You can’t see him. He’s none of the nameless faces that pass you by as they find their family, friends or rides.

Is this even the right group of people? What if his luggage got lost and he won’t be out with this group. What if he got taken aside for some reason, and now he’s being held in some dusty room being asked a bunch of stupid questions he doesn’t know how to answer? What if he’s fig—

But then there’s a gap in the crowd, and the boy you’ve spent the last half decade of your life with comes into perfect, crystalline view. His lips pulled taught, teeth beautifully bared as he sets his sights on your sign high in the air, then down to you.

And you're running.

You’re running and dodging and swerving until you’re jumping into Nels arms as he abandons his suitcase in favour of keeping you both up right. He buries his face into your neck, holding you so tightly you think he’ll never let go. And that’s just fine with you as you hold on just as tight, taking in a big breath of him too.

He smells like airplane and coastal breeze and most importantly, home.

Nel smells like home.

A muffled, “Ohhhhhhh, I missed you,” greets your ears, and you melt into him even more if that's even possible.

“I missed you too,” you say, pulling back and kissing him. You don’t really care if there’s an audience or not right now. Not when Nel’s here, and he’s in your arms, and he’s yours for a whole 9 days and life is as it should be once again.

He releases his hold slightly, but your arms don’t leave his shoulders. The sign still clutched, now crushed and crinkled, in one hand.

“Car?” he asks, a kiss to your nose.

“This way,” you lead, releasing your hold.

Luckily, his suitcase is small, so he forgoes rolling it, instead gripping the handle at the top and carrying it in one hand. Your own reaching for his other and not letting go. He’s going to have to peel you off him if he wants space right now.

Nel’s wearing his usual fall attire; a dark green school sweater that has ‘ECAD’ written over the chest in a large, academic looking mustard yellow font, regular old blue jeans, and dark brown lace up boots. His short, dirty blond hair's covered by a hat you’d gotten him as a highschool graduation present, and his ocean blue eyes remain as gorgeous as they were the day you met.

Passing through doors to the outside and back to lot J, you hop in the car as he puts his bag in the trunk.

“How have you been? What’s new? What’s not? Tell me everything,” he asks as he climbs in and sits beside you, hand finding yours again.

Never gone for too long. You relish in the comfort and happiness that alone brings you.

He’s finally here. You finally have him back.

“I’m great. Yuri’s still Yuri, classes are only a little more challenging this year, but I’m still at the top of them,” Nel slips in a ‘not surprised’ and you smile brighter as you continue. “They’re already telling us to start brainstorming ideas for our thesis show next year,” you have no idea what you’re going to do, but you’re working on it. “Campus is the same, dorms are the same, the cafe’s the same. Though, they have the egg tarts I like in more, which is awesome for my taste buds and terrible for my bank account.”

Vivian stayed true to her word, and now they had the tarts in every week.

“I can only imagine,” Nel jokes.

“Uhhmm, what else…” a thought pops up, and you guess you can tell him. It doesn’t reveal anything the whole world doesn’t already know. “The prince is dating Adaline Dupree.”

His eyebrows raise, remembering, “Oh yeah, that’s right, the prince goes to your school now.”

“Yep.”

“Have you met him?”

Is he seriously not completely shocked at the prince dating Adaline? You only bitched about her to him all the time.

“Uhhh… yep, once or twice, I guess.”

You hate it. You hate lying, especially to Nel. You hate it so much, but it’s for the greater good. It’s to keep the peace. But that doesn’t stop the burning feeling in your chest nor the roil in your belly.

“The day he arrived Yuri dragged me down to see him speak. She made us sit front row because Yuri,” Nel nods, knowing exactly what you mean. “He had everyone assemble to hear why he was at school and tell us not to treat him like a prince. He wants to be able to study without his title getting in the way.”

You hit your blinker, making a one handed left turn.

“Makes sense. Is he nice at least?” Nel doesn’t sound at all suspicious, and why should he? You’ve never given him reason to not believe you at your word before. Never lied to him before.

Fuck you hate this so much. It was so much easier when he was 5000 miles away. But now that he's right beside you? This week may end up being more difficult than you thought.

“He was very princely. Tried to kiss my hand like he did like every other girl there, but I made it a handshake instead. Figured if he wants to be treated like everyone else, I would liste—Oh!” you laugh before you can even get the words out.

“What?” he asks, intrigued but confused.

You can barely speak coherently. “You should have seen Yuri’s face when I called him Jungkook and not Prince or Your Highness...her eyes nearly fell out of her head,” tears are starting to form from laughing so hard. “It was great.”

“He didn’t mind?” Nel asks and you shake your head. Yuri’s face that day will forever be seared into your brain for whenever you need a pick-me-up.

“No, he was grateful actually. I was the first person that had addressed him like that, the way he’d asked to be.” Stopping at a red light, you're finally regaining yourself.

“Well,” he squeezes your hand, “you always were good at first impressions,” and looks at you so softly you can’t help but smile into the kiss you give him.

He remembers that school art fair just as fondly as you do.

Nel pulls away first with a thought. “Is Yuri with us this time?”

Yuri hadn’t been able to go home last year, her parents too busy on a work trip, so she stayed back and kicked it with you two, but also gave you your space when needed.

Lots and lots of space.

“Nope! Parents welcomed her with open arms this afternoon, I’m sure. They’re all on some tropical island down south. She’s bringing me an ocean bottle though, so I’m excited for that. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to add a new one.”

Everytime you travelled somewhere with a beach you got a glass bottle and filled it with half sand, half water, added in some shells or rocks and labelled it. Instead of towels, keychains, or magnets, you did ocean bottles. They lined a shelf in your room back home.

You probably have at least fifteen of them by now. Your mum likes to travel and make sure you experience the world around you, not just your little corner of it.

“Oh that’s great babe! I know how much you love those.”

“Yeah, it is.” You lean your head on his shoulder, basking in his presence for as long as the light remains red.

He’s here. He’s yours.

You only have to do this for a couple more years and then you’ll be together all the time. God you can’t wait. But you are nothing if not disciplined.

And it’s going to be so worth it in the end.

The rest of the ride to your dorm goes by quickly.

Some more red lights, some more kisses. You point out the same things you always do on the way back, and Nel acts like it’s the first time he’s seen them, just like he always does.

His hand never leaves yours over the center console.

Soon enough, you find yourselves flopping down on your bed. Bags, jackets and shoes, scattered. Nel pulls you into him, his head on your pillow, yours lying on his chest. True peace settling in for the first time in months.

“I can't wait until we’re done school and I have more than four and a half months with you a year,” he sighs. “It’s not enough. I want more. Need more.”

“Me too. But good things come to those who wait.”

“Yeah…I’m just really sick of waiting.”

“Me too,” you repeat in a yawn.

Nel’s breathing slowly evens out as you lie there, content to be in your arms again. And you look up to see his eyes closed, warm exhales brushing over your face from his nose.

You can’t blame him for being so tired. He’d had an early morning exam before flying out, even brought his suitcase to it so he could leave the second he was done. Then, the flight alone was ten hours, plus travel times to and from the airports was about an hour each way, and the wait time before boarding was another two.

Shit, he’s probably been awake for around eighteen hours straight at this point because he’s also the type that can’t sleep on planes no matter what he tries.

Oh, Nel...Of course he’s exhausted.

Giving him a squeeze before getting up, you take off his socks and jeans carefully, then tuck him into bed as much as you can. You’d try the sweater, but it involved too many working parts and you didn’t want to wake him, so you figure it’s best to have the window open tonight instead.

Grabbing your phone, you tiptoe to the bathroom and do your night time routine. It’s not an overly complicated one, just brushing your teeth, washing your face and a simple 3 step skincare routine of cleanser, toner and moisturizer. Short and sweet, but it does the job.

Halfway through brushing, you do your friend due diligence and send Yuri a ‘back safe’ text, just like she’d sent you her own ‘here safe’ when she’d landed.

You spit and rinse, moving onto washing your face and applying cleanser.

Teeth clean and face moisturized, you sneak into your room again. Nel's still out cold.

You sneak out of habit—your mom wakes at the sound of a pin dropping. But absolutely nothing could wake Nel now outside of his mother’s voice and his morning alarm. It’s a talent of his you’ve always been jealous of.

Removing today's clothes and tossing them in your overflowing hamper—reminder to self: do laundry—you slide on your pjs and climb into bed beside him, plugging in your phone and setting it down.

A thought pops into your head and you pick it back up, shooting a quick text before you can think twice.

You [11:26pm]: home safe

It pings not seconds later.

PJK [11:26pm]: Thanks Picasso PJK [11:27pm]: glad ur home safe

Your heart beats a little louder at the nickname, and you chalk it up to the excitement still in you at having Nel here and being tired.

But you sleep better that night than you have in a long time.

A short, repetitive, rhythmic vibration.

Picasso [11:26pm]: home safe

Jungkook is still standing in the same corner by the wall, Adaline somewhere in the crowd in front of him dancing with her friends. She asked him to join her, but he declined. He doesn’t need to see himself more than half drunk and dancing on the cover of tomorrow’s news cycles. Not to mention his security team would shut the party down the second a camera flashed.

His guards are carefully stationed throughout the house, all dressed down in casual wear, a few with empty cups in their hands. One is watching some sort of beer pong like game in the corner, another is mingling with some guys over in the kitchen. Three he can’t immediately see. And he knows his head guard is outside in a black car ready to get him out at a moment's notice.

Nobody can tell they aren’t here for the party, not unless they’re sober enough to notice watchful eyes continually making their way over the crowd as the night goes on.

Your text woke him from the stillness he’s adapted from standing so long, trying hard not to draw attention to himself.

You were home safe. Home safe from the airport. Home safe from picking up Cornelius.

Your boyfriend.

Cornelius, your boyfriend.

He doesn’t acknowledge his teeth grinding.

You were home from picking up your beau but even then, you’d texted him to let him know you were back on campus safely. To let him know you were okay.

It’s the first thing that makes him smile all night.

So he sends back, a bit to quickly:

Me [11:26pm]: Thanks Picasso Me [11:26pm]: glad ur home safe

Because it means something to him that you deem him close enough to send a ‘home safe’ text too.

That you want him to know you’re back.

Want him to know you’re safe.

Whether you know it or not, your safety means a lot to Jungkook, so that little two word text makes his heart lurch.

He needs to leave.

He needs to get out of this fucking house and back to his dorm. He came, he drank, he observed, he fulfilled his boyfriend duty.

That’s enough for him.

He shoots Adaline a text that says he isn’t feeling well and gets out as fast as he possibly can, dodging bodies left and right and doing his best to hide his face.

Once he’s out, security team in tow, the cooling midnight air does him some good.

“Someone make sure she gets back to her dorm safe,” he says in their general direction, brain too muddled to be polite in this exact moment, but it’s nothing they haven’t seen before.

This is going to be such a long week.

He can’t wait till it’s over. Till he doesn’t have to share anymore.

He was never very good at it anyway.

The smell of bacon wakes you.

And toast, and…

Eggs?

You think, at least. Since when do you have bacon? Or eggs? Toast is a given, it’s part of your life’s blood.

Opening your eyes, you blindly reach for your phone, successfully unplugging it and bringing it to your face.

The screen is too bright but you suffer through it, squinting.

9:27am.

9:27?

You slept for ten hours!?

You can’t remember the last time you slept more than 6 consecutively, aside from recovery nights, and even then it was fitful.

Nel comes in with two plates, his full with a very Eastern breakfast of pancakes, scrambled eggs and bacon. Yours with two pieces of toast, lots of bacon, a bit of eggs and some fruit. Where did he—?

He smiles at your confusion, “You have a cafeteria that sells breakfast food, you know.”

You know that.

“I know that.”

“Do you? Because the look on your face says otherwise.”

You flop back down and pull the pillow over your head, mumbling incoherent nonsense. You rarely used the dorm cafeteria for breakfast. Much preferring the greenhouse cafe or simple toast and juice that you can make in your dorm.

He chuckles. “Two breakfasts for me then, okay, if you insist,” Nel moves to leave but you screech, uncovering your face.

“Noo! I want it. Please, sweet nutrition,” he hands the plate over when you sit up, arms out stretched, and you dig in.

After a piece of bacon, you ask, “How long have you been up?”

Nel’s sitting with his legs crossed at the end of your bed, munching away, “Long enough to get changed, grab my wallet, get food and come back.”

The bacon is really good. You’ve never been so glad he knew you so well as you grab another piece from the dwindling pile.

“You slept well then, too? That’s good, I’m glad. You needed the rest.”

“Having you around always makes it easier to fall asleep,” he nudges your knee with his elbow.

Even after five years he can still make you blush.

“I know the feeling.”

You two fall into step, starting your weeks in advance prepared plans, the rest of your day passing quickly.

Too quickly.

And so does the next day, and the next, and the next.

All of your activities are going great. The zoo, picnics, study dates, restaurant dates, historical, artistic and architectural museum tours. Even a swim at the school’s indoor pool, and there’s plenty more to come.

Things slip back into being easy, just as they always have been with Nel, ever since that first day back in tenth grade.

He knows you like the back of his hand and predicts your moves before you make them, just like you do for him.

You know his favourite foods, and where he prefers to park when driving—always avoiding open curbs—you know his dream travel destinations, and who his favourite musicians are. You know his favourite pencils to design with and his favourite pencils to shade with, that he always put on his right sock first, then right shoe, then left sock and left shoe. You know that his drink order is an iced coffee with two cream and two sugar, that he prefers loose shirts over fitted ones, and that his favourite colour is orange.

It’s a pretty orange too, not just any orange. You wonder if it’s anything like Jungkook's–

Wait.

You search your memory for the information, going through favourite foods, drinks, music—all discussed previously, because you know their answers. But colour?

Nothing.

How have you never asked what Jungkook’s favourite colour is?

Isn’t that usually one of the first things people ask when they’re trying to get to know one another? Funny. Guess you’ll have to inquire the next time you see him.

Anyways, just like you know everything there is to know about Nel, he knows everything about you too, including your routines.

Which is why at twelve noon every day, he starts getting ready to go to the greenhouse for your afternoon study session.

Including today.

Your week’s already half over and you hate it. Time always moves far to fast when all you want it to do is slow the fuck down.

You only have five days left. Five days.

You’re lucky the greenhouse cafe is open during break, some places on campus are required to stay open for the students who can’t make it home, but greenhouse chooses to.

As you and Nel turn the corner you see a familiar figure sitting in his old spot at the back of the patio. The same hat, mask and hoodie, now paired with a leather jacket on top due to the weather starting to cool down.

You can tell Jungkook wasn’t expecting to see you by the way he stiffens before those all too familiar brown eyes of his meet your own. Which is fair, your schedule shifts a bit when you’re on break, he isn’t used to you being here at twelve on Wednesdays.

But as quickly as he sees you, his gaze is back on his laptop, like he never saw you in the first place.

Like you asked him to do.

And a sharp pain stings inside your chest.

When you and Nel get to your table, he sits in the seat opposite to where you always do, leaving where Jungkook usually sits beside you, empty.

A part of you is grateful for that, though you can’t figure out why and table that self discussion for a later date.

Setting down your things, you ask Nel if he wants coffee. He answers yes, like always, and after a quick visit with Viv, you're pulling out your chair and setting down your cups. Your back faces Jungkook. It’s a small mercy you can’t see him. Maybe you can forget he’s here and actually focus on your work.

But it’s also exactly because of your position, that you can’t see as Jungkook subtly watches you over the rim of his laptop while you and Nel talk quietly and study.

Nel can though.

It feels weird to ignore him. To pretend you don’t know one another when for the better part of the last seven weeks all you’ve done is talk, hang out, study or a mixture of the three, every day.

When having him sit behind you and not beside you feels so wrong and so foreign.

But this is your own doing, you caused this. So you need to suck it up and get used to it.

This is exactly what you asked for all those weeks ago. The perfect solution to your problem.

No one can know.

Not Nel.

Not anyone.

But fuck, if it didn’t absolutely suck in practice.

Setting some of your books out around you and on the table Jungkook usually uses, you dig into your business homework. Having a major and a minor are great for job prospects, on paper, and in practice after you’ve completed them.

But getting them? It takes years of hard work and dedication with no distractions.

None.

You spend almost every free moment you have doing homework or practicing, trying to get ahead, trying to stay on top.

…Trying to beat Adaline.

But you just use that as fuel for your drive to be better. To be the best.

Competition is healthy. Especially when you’re winning against the rich brat who’s used to getting what she wants.

Not that you're petty.

Ehh…You are. But only a little bit. At least you can admit it.

Nel gets to work as well, the sunlight from his spot is great for drawing. He’s working on a rough version of his thesis project that’s due at the end of the year. He has to have multiple completed renderings as well as a scale model, and he’s been brainstorming since last year about what he wants to do.

Currently, he’s drawing up an airport, trying to design so that it’s not confusing and complicated for first time users.

However, his occasional swearing and muttering to himself makes you think he’s having a tough time with it.

You try not to laugh, but a small giggle slips out.

“What,” Nel asks, a little distracted.

“Nothing.”

“No really, what’s up? I could use a laugh right now,” he insists, eyes on you at first. But then something behind you steals their attention every few seconds.

Someone.

“You just…you still make funny sounds when you're frustrated with a drawing. It’s endearing.” You reach to place your hand on his knee, trying to gain back his full attention.

Ignore him, Nel. Please ignore him.

“Yeah...” he exhales. “I guess airports are out,” his hand covers yours quickly and you hear a faint chair screech from behind you. Nel doesn’t miss it as he says. “But I do have a much bigger appreciation and understanding for all those who came before me,” pupils now unmoving from their target behind you.

Fine.

You’ll acknowledge it.

“Is everything okay? You keep looking at something? Is there an animal or…” You know what he’s looking at, but go so far as to turn anyway, playing up the ‘confused girlfriend’ role. But Nel squeezes your hand, stopping you.

He leans in, placing a fake mask of serene on and lowers his voice. “That guy keeps looking at us, moreso you. And he looks pissed off.”

Fuck, think of something.

Anything. Anythi—Oh!

You lean in too, so close your noses almost touch. “He’s probably just upset we’re talking. The greenhouse cafe is usually a quiet place to work,” good enough, you think. That’s believable, right?. “It’ll be fine. Let’s just ignore him and get back to work.”

You place a quick kiss on his lips but Nel isn’t letting up on his unnecessary vigilance. But then again, he doesn’t know that Jungkook is the opposite of a threat to you. So you reassure him, in your own way.

“Babe, seriously. If you’re going to be all protective or whatever, don’t. I come here everyday when you're not here and I’m still alive and unharmed. Go get a sandwich or a refill to get your head off of it and say hi to Viv. She’s still here, and I’m betting she remembers you. You’re kinda hard to forget.”

You can tell Nel’s about to reject the idea when you insist. “I’ll be fine, Nel. Promise. Three years and not a scratch on me.”

He sighs through his nose, but relents.

Placing his drawing pad on the table, he gets up, but not before placing another kiss to your forehead and mumbling, “Scream ‘cumquat’ if you’re in danger and I’ll come running, okay?”

You laugh outright at that. “Will do.”

You watch him as he goes, and the second he’s inside, you’re racing for your phone, typing at an astounding speed.

You [1:45pm]: Didn’t your royal upbringing teach you not to stare so blatantly!??? Nel caught you

You hear a quiet ping from behind you followed by a small exhale that sounds more like a disguised chuckle.

PJK [1:45pm]: Yes.

You [1:45pm]: So you intentionally got caught?

PJK [1:45pm]: Maybe

You [1:45pm]: Shithead

PJK [1:46pm]: Rude

You [1:46pm]: You deserve it

PJK [1:46pm]: I know. I’m just making sure he’s treating you right. PJK [1:47pm]: and trying to see if he acts differently when he knows he’s being watched. He’s very protective you know

Jungkook saw the second Nel noticed he was watching you.

His posture changed from easy going to on alert. His hand went so quickly to yours on his knee and his public displays of affection increased significantly.

It was pathetic, really. It went above a normal amount of protection. Nel was claiming his ‘property’, making sure Jungkook knew not to touch.

And the nasty look Nel gave him as he entered the cafe—gratefully still unrecognizable in his disguise—was another silent way to say back off, stay away, and don’t try anything or you’ll regret it.

It was a red flag in Jungkook's mind. A small one, but it’s still there because his efforts are completely unneeded. After five years together, Nel should know that you can handle yourself.

Hell, Jungkook knows that and it’s only been two months.

You [1:47pm]: yes I know he is, and I already told you he treats me well because he always. Does. Not just in public or under watchful eyes You [1:48pm]: and since when does my boyfriend of half a decade need your ~princely~ seal approval?

He ignores the small jab. You only ever brought up his title when you were mocking or upset with him. And he knows that in this case it's the latter.

PJK [1:48pm]: Since now PJK [1:49pm]: And it’s not that I don’t trust you at your word, but I usually like to decide for myself

That has you reeling.

Where does he get the audacity to think he has any say in or about your relationship? Your very solidly built, five years strong, healthy, happy relationship?

Because he’s the Prince? You’re pretty sure you established on day one that you didn’t and still don’t give a fuck about his birthright.

If he thinks he gets an opinion on any of this he’s got another thing coming the second he asks you anything about Adaline again.

You’re in the middle of typing out a paragraph explaining all of this when another text comes in.

PJK [1:49pm]: Because I’ve seen far too many women in love who are blind to certain things PJK [1:50pm]: And far too many hurt in the end because of it.

You pause. Fingers frozen mid swipe.

Blind to what?

How many women did he know that were in love but missing something about their partner? Surely there couldn't be that many. Right?

But this was Jungkook you were talking to, he’s lived numerous lifetimes already. That fancy birthright of his you don’t care about having given him far too many life experiences to have at his age. And they’re only going to increase from here.

So instead of hitting send and cursing him out quite spectacularly, you stop and think for a moment.

What did he see that they didn’t?

That you might… not?

You’re a decent judge of character if your record tracks. And it does.

So your curiosity gets the better of you as you delete your rage paragraph and settle for a simple two word question instead.

You [1:50pm]: Like what?

You can see that he’s typing out a response but the bell on the cafe door rings and you put your phone down. It buzzes with his response a few seconds after.

You’ll check it later.

Nel takes his seat again, and you notice he has his sandwich, but also that he’s moved his chair and starts sketching from the new position giving him a direct eye line with Jungkook.

You internally scoff at that.

Nel has always been protective. But he was raised that way and you don’t mind too much. You don’t expect him to change his core values for you, just like he never expects you to change yours for him, even when a couple of his are just the slightest bit overbearing.

But that’s part of a relationship. Give and take and compromise. No one person is going to be perfect for another. It’s healthy to have differences.

That being said, Nel doesn’t change positions for the rest of the hour. Even as Jungkook packs up and leaves, Nel eyeballs him until he’s out of sight.

That night while Nel is brushing his teeth and you're lying in bed, you check the text from Jungkook.

PJK [1:51pm]: Like if they’re getting treated the way they should be or if they’re settling for the best they think they can get or for the first guy that showed interest. The one who hasn’t grown up even though time has passed. The one who’s holding her back by not setting her free

You stare at your phone. At the text. At his words.

And dismiss it.

You aren’t one of those women.

You know yourself.

You know what you deserve and how you should be treated. You didn’t settle, you just happened to find your love at a young age. That’s something special and rare and should be protected. And Nel has most certainly grown up as time passed.

Jungkook is being ridiculous for absolutely no reason. Surely he’ll have seen that today. Seen how Nel loves you, treats you how you deserve to be treated, holds you up. Supports you.

You’re confident he’ll be eating his words soon enough.

Finished brushing, Nel comes back to the bedroom and snuggles up behind you and you put down your phone.

He cuddles you for a minute before placing a kiss at your neck. Then another. And another before he’s mouthing up your neck, and sliding a hand up your thigh and to your waist. It pauses on your stomach with teasing caresses, before dipping lower and lower, beneath the fabric of your sleep shorts, and under the elastic of your underwear.

A small moan sounds in your throat at the touch. His fingers meeting your folds and the sensitive bundle of nerves at their apex.

You wanted this.

Need it.

He’s grown, you think; as a finger slips in you and you gasp at the stretch, legs opening wider for him. A second finger plunges in and you can feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with every thrust. Just like you can feel a bulge forming behind you.

You know what you deserve; as he uses them to scissor you open, making sure you’re ready. You roll over, now on your back with Nel over you as he pulls your shorts and underwear down to get better access, your own hands removing your shirt.

You’re not settling; as Nel moves down, tongue making a couple swipes at your entrance and you hiss in pleasure before he’s reaching over, grabbing a condom from the nightstand drawer and sliding it on, length hard and dripping at the sight of you bared before him.

Nel wasn’t the first guy who’d shown interest, just the first you’d said yes to; and he slides in. Both of you moaning at the snug fit.

“Fuck...” he says and you nod, agreeing, before pulling him down into a deep kiss.

He eases into a slow, steady rhythm that has you breathy and his abs tensing.

But it’s not enough. You need more. You need to erase these past two months without him, and take enough to last for the next two. It’s never enough, but you try.

“Faster baby,” you beg, “Please…faster.”

Nel isn’t holding you back. Jungkook doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about.

Nel picks up the pace and you start moaning, louder like you know he likes. Likes to hear he’s doing a good job. He’s grabbing your breast and sucking in a nipple, tongue swirling and you're bringing your hips to meet his with every thrust.

It feels good. It always feels good with Nel.

He was your first everything. First kiss, first intimate touch, first love.

Only love.

And he makes you feel good with that love. That touch. His kiss.

He makes you feel safe, inside and out.

Jungkook can go eat grass. He doesn’t know your relationship. Doesn’t know the first thing about it.

“There, right there!” you whine as Nel hits your sweet spot once and you arch. He tries again but misses, continuing faster, his peak coming quickly.

Jungkook can never understand what you two have. What you two have built in these five years. The understanding and security that comes with it.

He’s being an unrightfully opinionated ass on something he knows nothing about and—

Fuck! Why are you thinking about Jungkook? You’re having sex with Nel. You shouldn’t be thinking about anything or anyone other than that.

Than him.

So why can’t you get what Jungkook said out of your fucking head?

“Ahhh… oh fuck. I’m cumming.” Nel’s hips stutter, his face contorting in pleasure as he releases, filling the condom.

You kiss him passionately to rid yourself of your princely plagued thoughts, the ones filling you with unwanted and unnecessary doubt. You want them gone, gone, gone. Nothing but Nel in their place.

And you slip an, “I love you,” in between kisses for good measure.

Jungkook could never understand.

Nel kisses you back just as hard, dramatically slowing his thrusts, drawing out his high for as long as possible.

“I love you too.”

Jungkook doesn’t know anything.

Nel groans into your lips when it becomes too much and pulls out.

Removing and tying off the condom, Nel goes to the washroom to throw it out and starts the shower he knows you’ll be joining him for when you're done.

A routine you’re all too familiar with.

One you created.

He knows you need a few minutes to get yourself off.

You’ve never been able to cum from sex with a partner. No matter how hard you tried. No matter what you did.

Most would think Nel wasn’t a good lover or wasn’t trying enough, but it was through years of constantly trying anything and everything that you learned you just…couldn’t.

No amount of fingering or oral or penetration from your partner could make you orgasm.

So Nel knows to wait for you in the shower as you finish yourself off, your own fingers making quick work of it, because you always could for some reason.

It isn’t your ideal situation, and it isn’t anyone’s fault. But it works. You both get the intimacy you crave and you accepted a long time ago that you were just one of the unlucky few.

Screams fill Jungkook’s ears as a hand finds his hair and nails rake against his scalp.

Adaline isn’t a quiet receiver.

“Ohmygod!” She shouts for the twentieth time. “Yes! There…so goo-oohhhh,” the last syllable turning into a loud moan.

He’s holding her downwith a forearm by her pelvis, mouth full as he brings out her third orgasm of the night, juices flooding his tongue.

He’s working out earlier frustrations and proving a point to himself in this fucked up version of self therapy.

He shouldn’t be.

But he does.

Has to.

Seeing you today with Cornelius spurred feelings within him that he didn’t know he had. Sure, there were bits and pieces of something stirring he refused to name, but today?

They were in a whole different ballpark. Different than anything else he’s ever felt before, brewing inside him, bubbling up to the surface even though he’s been trying his best to pop them and shove them down.

Anger?

Feelings he doesn’t want to have.

Jealousy?

Does have.

Wanting you to look at him the way you look at Nel?

Can’t have.

Not for…

He admits he provoked Nel because he could. Dick move, but it was because Jungkook knew just by looking at him that giving you any form of attention would piss him off. He seemed the type.

Overly possessive, overprotective.

Overbearingly so.

Suffocatingly so.

Because Nel knows how lucky he is. That you chose him. That you still choose him.

He knows he has to keep others away.

Knows he isn’t good enough for you, holds you back. But keeps you anyway.

The selfish prick.

So Jungkook eyed you up and down, leisurely, and for as long as he wanted. Purely out of the need to prove to himself he was right about his little assessment of your boyfriend. At least that’s what he told himself.

Was it childish and unnecessary?

Yes.

But he was right. And that felt good.

He could see in your posture and your hushed words you didn’t want Nel’s protection, didn’t need it, and that Nel ignored that wish of yours. Did what he wanted to instead of respecting your ability to make decisions for yourself. Bulldozed your opinions.

It pissed Jungkook off.

He’d left a little while after sending you that text to read, but you never did. At least not since the last time he checked. And so he’d made plans with Adaline the second he was out of your earshot. Calling her up and setting a time for what’s currently taking up his primary focus.

Because even though it was Adaline underneath him, for the very first time, that’s not who he imagined it was.

Not who he just dragged a fourth orgasm out of with his fingers because he could.

Because he would. He would be so much better. Give so much more. If only…

Fuck.

Jungkook stands and drags his cock over Adaline’s entrance, whacking it against her clit a couple times before running the tip through her folds and pushing in. He hisses at the feeling. At who he was sinking into in his head, splayed out in front of him. Skin glistening with sweat mixed with arousal. Mouth open, slack jawed in pleasure.

Adaline moans loudly and it dissolves his visual.

His tattooed hand moves to hold her hands above her head, the other silences her mouth.

“Quiet now,” he whispers, low and deep. A bead of sweat dripping off his brow, hair sticking to his neck and temple.

He intends it to be sexy for her, but in reality, he’s just sick of hearing her. It’s ruining his mental image. Not that she’ll ever know that though.

To Adaline, this session is all about her and making her feel good.

But constant screams and loud, pornographic moans aren’t appealing to him in the slightest. They're taking him out of the mood. Making him soft.

Once or twice when it’s genuine? Sure. But the constant assault she loves to give his eardrums? Not even a little bit.

He sets a fast, rough pace, and Adaline’s eyes roll back in pleasure, screams finally subsiding in white hot bliss, replaced by bitten lips and smothered whimpers.

He is going to prove this point to himself over and over again. All night if he has to.

And he has to.

To get whatever it is he’s feeling for you out of his system.

To keep his sanity.

To forget.

And while it’s Adaline’s name is on his lips when he cums.

It’s not the name he repeats in his head like a prayer.

Chapter Seven: Hard Goodbyes and Favourite Colours

A/N 2: Thanks for waiting for this chapter. I'll try my best to have 7 out as soon as I can get it. I promise.

A/N 3: As always, Thank you for reading, loves. Xoxo - Yoon <3

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