#Like I'm sure there is a part of him that's like. bittersweet about it like watching spider-gwen thrive

[lost-in-thoughts03]

Falling for you // Hwang brothers

Previous part:

Summary: You give him a chance, and he shows you how much he values you.

" A place that is so pure, so dirty and raw."

Warning: 18+, MDNI, smut, fluff, kissing, teasing, making love, p in v, thick tension, unprotected sex, first time, heartbreak, realization, pain, confession, grammatical errors

The café was unusually quiet, the soft hum of the coffee machines filling the silence between you and Jun-ho.

He stirred his coffee absentmindedly, his usual teasing smirk missing as he listened to your words.

" I'm giving In-ho a chance."

There. You finally said it.

Jun-ho’s stirring slowed, his eyes flickering up to meet yours.

For a split second, you saw it—the briefest flash of pain, of something deeper.

But then, just as quickly, he smiled.

That same easygoing smile you had seen a thousand times before.

" That’s great, Y/n." His voice was steady, but you noticed how his fingers tightened around the spoon.

" My brother’s crazy about you. He’s always been."

You swallowed hard.

Something about his reaction didn’t sit right.

You expected him to be indifferent, maybe even relieved.

Instead, he looked…lost.

Then, without warning, he stood and closed the distance between you in one stride.

Before you could react, his arms wrapped around you—tight, desperate, like he was holding on to something slipping away.

" You deserve him." His voice was quieter this time, right against your ear.

" And he deserves you."

You stiffened, overwhelmed by the sudden closeness, the warmth of his embrace.

Damn it, Jun-ho.

" You’re gonna be happy with him." He continued, his grip tightening just a little before he finally pulled back.

His usual teasing grin returned, but his eyes betrayed him—glossy, almost reluctant.

" And good luck, seriously. You’re gonna need it. My brother is an insufferable ass when he’s in love."

A breathy laugh escaped you, even as your heart ached.

" You’re not wrong." You muttered, shaking your head.

Jun-ho ruffled your hair like he used to in high school. " Just promise me one thing, yeah?"

" What?"

His expression softened. " Don’t let him mess this up. And don’t let yourself doubt what you deserve."

You nodded, unsure of what to say.

He smiled one last time before grabbing his coffee. " Alright, I’m leaving before I start looking pathetic. And before you start crying, because let’s be honest, you’re a crier."

" I am not!" You shot back, rolling your eyes.

" Sure, sure." He chuckled, stepping backward toward the door. Then, just before leaving, he gave you one last look.

A knowing, bittersweet smile.

And then he was gone.

You exhaled sharply, gripping your coffee cup like it could steady your heart.

This was it.

The closing of one chapter, and the beginning of another.

And for the first time in a long while…you felt ready.

You inhaled deeply, shaking off the last remnants of hesitation before standing up. You had made your decision—it was time to see it through.

As you stepped outside, the late afternoon sun cast a golden hue over the streets.

You pulled out your phone, your fingers hovering over In-ho’s name before finally pressing the call.

He answered immediately, almost as if he had been waiting. " Hey, sweetheart. What’s up?"

His voice was light, teasing as always, but you could hear the nervous edge beneath it.

" Where are you?" You asked, ignoring the way your heart pounded.

" At my place. Why? Miss me already?"

" I’m coming over."

There was a pause. Then, a slow chuckle. " I like where this is going."

" Shut up, In-ho."

" No, seriously." He said, voice dropping to something softer.

" Are you okay?"

You hesitated, then nodded to yourself. " I will be."

...

You stand in front of In-ho’s apartment door, your heart pounding so hard you swear it’s about to break through your chest.

This is it.

This is the moment you decide to stop running—to stop pretending you don’t feel something for him.

Taking a deep breath, you raise your hand and knock.

Seconds pass before the door swings open, revealing In-ho. He looks surprised, his sharp gaze scanning your face as if trying to figure out why you’re here.

“ Y/n?” His voice is cautious, guarded. “ What are you—”

“ I need to talk to you.”

His brows furrow, but he steps aside, letting you in. You walk past him into the apartment, the air between you thick with unspoken tension.

As the door clicks shut behind you, you turn to face him, forcing yourself to hold his gaze. “ I thought about what you said.”

He doesn’t move, just watches you carefully, waiting.

“ And…I want to give this a chance.” You confess, voice barely above a whisper. “ I don’t know where it will go. I don’t know what I feel completely yet. But I know that I don’t want to keep pushing you away.”

Silence stretches between you, heavy and suffocating.

Then, in one swift movement, In-ho closes the distance between you. His hands cup your face, his touch warm, steady. “ Say it again.”

You swallow hard, your body already reacting to his closeness. “ I want to give this a chance.”

A low exhale leaves his lips, almost like he’s been holding his breath this entire time.

Then, he kisses you.

It starts slow—tentative, almost like he’s afraid you’ll change your mind. But as soon as you respond, as soon as your hands find his bare arms, pulling him closer, something snaps inside him.

The kiss deepens, turning desperate, hungry. His hands move down your body, gripping you as if he’s trying to memorize every inch of you. He walks you backward until your legs hit the couch, and you fall onto the cushions with a small gasp.

In-ho is on you in seconds, hovering over you, his breath hot against your skin. “ Tell me to stop.” He murmurs against your lips, his voice thick with restraint. “ If you’re not ready—”

You shake your head, fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. “ Don’t stop.”

That’s all he needs to hear.

In-ho’s lips trail lower, leaving a scorching path down your skin. His breath is warm against your chest as he hovers, eyes locked onto yours, silently asking for permission one last time. The hunger in his gaze sends a shiver through you, and when you nod, a smirk tugs at his lips before he dips his head.

The first flick of his tongue against your skin draws a gasp from you, your fingers threading into his hair as if to keep him there. He takes his time, savoring every reaction, every trembling breath that escapes your lips. When his mouth finally closes around your nipple, the sensation is overwhelming—a slow, teasing pull that makes your back arch into him.

“ In-ho—” His name falls from your lips in a breathy moan, and he groans in response, the vibration sending another wave of heat through your body. His hand slides down your waist, gripping you firmly as he deepens his attention, his tongue circling, teasing, before he lightly grazes his teeth over sensitive skin.

Your body reacts instinctively, pressing against him, chasing the pleasure he’s so effortlessly unraveling in you. He watches your face through hooded eyes, drinking in the way you move beneath him, the way your breath stutters when he applies just the right amount of pressure.

His other hand slides beneath the fabric of your clothes, fingers pressing into your heated skin, pulling you impossibly closer. " You’re beautiful like this." He murmurs, his voice husky, filled with something deeper than just desire.

And as he continues his slow, deliberate worship of your body, it’s clear—this is more than just passion. This is him memorizing you, claiming you in a way that leaves no room for doubt.

His mouth is everywhere—your lips, your jaw, the sensitive skin of your neck. His hands explore your body with a reverence that makes your head spin. Every touch, every kiss, every movement is a silent promise, a declaration that this is real.

A sharp gasp escapes your lips as In-ho’s fingers hook into your trousers, dragging them down your hips with deliberate slowness. The fabric pools at your ankles before he tosses them aside, his dark eyes drinking in the sight of you beneath him.

His hands glide over your bare thighs, tracing every curve, every shiver that ripples through your body under his touch.

“ So soft.” He murmurs, almost to himself, his voice husky with restraint. His thumbs press into the sensitive skin at the inside of your thighs, parting them slightly as his lips follow the path of his hands.

He starts with a gentle kiss, barely there, before deepening it, his mouth leaving warm, open-mouthed kisses along your thighs, inching closer—teasing, savoring.

Your fingers tangle in his hair as another moan spills from your lips, your head tilting back, body surrendering to his pace. He groans softly against your skin, the sound vibrating through you as he presses firmer kisses, sucking lightly to leave faint marks—a claim, a reminder of this moment.

“ You sound beautiful.” He breathes, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin near your core. His grip tightens on your thighs as he continues, taking his time, enjoying every reaction he pulls from you.

He slides his fingers deep inside you, pressing against your walls with expert precision. The sudden intrusion forces a loud, needy moan from your lips, a sound that sends a thrill through him.

Amused, he chuckles, his dark eyes filled with satisfaction as he watches you unravel beneath his touch. Watching you unravel beneath him, vulnerable and breathless, nearly shatters his restraint.

The sight of you like this—moaning, writhing, completely at his mercy—has him straining painfully against his pants. Your soft whimpers only spur him on, coaxing his fingers to move faster, deeper, as he works you open with sinful precision.

But it’s not enough. He craves more—the way your body clenches around him, the way you tremble under his touch. His need to see you fall apart drives him to slip another finger inside, stretching you further, filling you completely.

A sharp gasp escapes you as your nails dig into his shoulders, your body arching, desperate for release.

You’re teetering on the edge, overwhelmed yet aching for more. The tension coils deep within you, tightening with every stroke, every flick of his wrist. You know you can’t take much more, but stopping isn’t an option—not when you’re this close, not when he’s unraveling you so perfectly.

A loud, desperate moan escapes your lips the moment he finds that perfect spot, sending a shiver through your entire body. Your chest rises and falls in a mesmerizing rhythm, like waves beckoning him to dive deeper into you.

In-ho groans at the sharp sting of your nails sinking into his flesh, but instead of stopping, it only fuels his desire to push you further into bliss.

“ Do you want to cum, huh?” He growls, his fingers plunging into you at a relentless pace, determined to push you over the edge.

“Yes…please. Please, don’t stop!” You beg, your voice trembling with desperation.

In-ho’s brow arches, a smirk curling at his lips as he watches you fall apart beneath him. His movements remain steady, merciless, his touch knowing exactly how to unravel you.

“ I never thought you were such a whore, darling.” He murmurs, his voice dripping with dark amusement. “ I thought you were just some innocent thing, but look at you—begging me to make you fucking cum.”

His words send a scorching heat through you, his touch driving you higher and higher.

“ Such a perfect little whore.” He adds, his voice low, taunting. “ Made just for me.”

That’s all it takes. His filthy words, his skilled fingers—it’s too much. The coil inside you snaps, pleasure crashing over you in waves as you cry out, unraveling completely between his fingers.

You gasp sharply, your breath trembling as you struggle to steady yourself. Your legs are weak, shaking uncontrollably from the intensity of what he just did to you.

In-ho withdraws his fingers slowly, glistening with your arousal, his gaze dark and predatory. He watches you with a wicked smirk, amused by your wrecked state.

As if to tease you further, he plays with the slickness between his fingers, spreading them apart to reveal the thin, elastic string of your essence clinging to his skin.

The sight alone is intoxicating.

You can’t deny it—he’s devastatingly good at this. So good that it makes you question everything, leaving you breathless and aching for more.

A realization strikes you like lightning: How many women before you have experienced this same mind-numbing pleasure at his hands? How many have been reduced to nothing but trembling messes beneath him?

They were lucky. And now, you’re one of them.

But In-ho isn’t finished. He always has another trick up his sleeve.

Maintaining eye contact, he slowly brings his coated fingers to his lips, his tongue darting out to taste you. A low, satisfied growl rumbles in his chest as he pushes them into his mouth, savoring every drop.

He’s dreamt of this moment—fantasized about it for years. Every late-night stroke, every desperate release, all of it was for this. And now, after all that waiting, after countless nights imagining how you’d taste, how you’d fall apart for him… he finally has you.

And starting tonight, he will always make you feel good—again and again, until your body knows nothing but the pleasure he gives.

His gaze flickers up to meet yours, dark and smoldering, but beneath the hunger lies something deeper, something consuming.

Possession. Obsession. A silent promise that this is only the beginning.

With that look alone, you know there’s no turning back. You are his now, and he won’t ever let you forget it.

In-ho pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it aside, revealing the sculpted lines of his torso. The dim light casts soft shadows over his skin, highlighting every defined muscle, every scar that tells a story. Your hands instinctively reach out, tracing the firm ridges of his abs, feeling the heat radiating from him.

His breath stutters at your touch, his eyes locked onto yours, dark and filled with unspoken desire. Encouraged, you let your fingers explore, palms gliding over his skin, feeling the way his muscles tense beneath your touch.

Then, with a slow, measured movement, he unfastens his trousers, sliding them down his hips and kicking them aside. Your breath catches as your gaze lowers, eyes widening slightly at the unmistakable outline straining against his boxers.

A playful smirk tugs at your lips as your fingers brush over the fabric, your touch light, teasing. In-ho exhales sharply, his jaw clenching, a quiet hiss escaping him at the sudden sensation. His hands tighten around your waist, as if trying to steady himself.

“ You're such a fucking tease, sweetheart.” He hissed.

You continue, your fingers tracing, exploring, watching the way his body reacts to you. A low, deep groan escapes his lips, sending a shiver through you.

The sound is intoxicating, like music to your ears, urging you to keep going. His hands dig into your hips, his breathing ragged as he presses his forehead against yours, his control hanging by a thread.

“ Y/n…” He murmurs, his voice strained, filled with both need and restraint. His eyes meet yours again, a silent plea and a challenge all at once.

With a single snap, the last of his clothing falls away, leaving nothing between you and the sight of him. Instinctively, you raise your hands to shield your eyes, unprepared to take in the full extent of him—but curiosity is a dangerous thing.

It betrays you before you can resist, and before you know it, In-ho is there, swiftly pulling your hands away.

“ You don’t get to hide from this.” He murmurs, his voice thick with amusement and something darker. “ You’re going to see exactly what you’ve done to me.”

And you do.

His cock stands proud, slapping against his stomach, the sheer size of it making your breath hitch. The way it pulses, the veins wrapping around his length, the way it glistens with arousal—it’s almost hypnotic.

A shiver runs down your spine. You know the science, the anatomy, the mechanics of it all. But seeing it in person—so close, so real—has an entirely different effect on you.

Your fingers twitch at your sides, hesitant, unsure. Fear and fascination war within you. You’ve never touched one before, never experienced this up close. And now, faced with him—throbbing, eager, waiting—you're at a loss.

In-ho notices. And from the smirk curling at his lips, he’s enjoying every second of your reaction.

You had only ever seen a man’s cock in textbooks, anatomy diagrams, and—on occasion—when some idiot flashed himself online, making you cringe in disgust.

But this…this is different.

You don’t feel disgusted. Instead, there’s a knot of apprehension twisting inside you, not from revulsion, but from the sheer anticipation of what’s to come. The size of him alone has you wondering—how is he going to handle himself when he finally pushes inside you?

In-ho seems to sense your hesitation. Without a word, he catches your hand, guiding it to his hardened length. Your fingers tremble as they wrap around him, the heat of his skin burning against your palm.

You begin stroking him hesitantly, your movements unsure, but the moment he feels your touch, a sharp hiss escapes his lips. His head falls back, eyes fluttering shut as he groans.

This is nothing like he imagined.

“Just like that… fuck,” he breathes, his grip firm over yours, guiding you in slow, deliberate strokes.

You bite your lip as you watch him, utterly mesmerized by the sight before you. The way his fingers tangle in his damp hair, the way his hips thrust into your touch, seeking more friction—it’s intoxicating.

His chest rises and falls with heavy breaths, glistening with sweat, every muscle flexing as pleasure wracks his body.

But then, he stops.

Panting, he looks down at you, his lips curling into a playful smirk. Releasing your hand, he leans forward, pressing his body flush against yours. Your breath catches as his lips find yours, stealing what little composure you have left.

But what truly makes your pulse stutter is the undeniable heat of his length pressing against your stomach. The sensation is foreign, overwhelming…addictive.

“ Are you ready?” He asks, his voice husky, filled with restraint.

You part your lips, but no words come out. The intensity of the moment has left you speechless, suffocated by desire.

He chuckles, seeing you like this—so undone, so utterly at his mercy.

With careful movements, he positions himself at your entrance. His eyes soften as he brushes his knuckles gently across your cheek. “ Say something if it hurts or if you need me to stop, okay? I don’t want to hurt you.”

You nod, and his smile is reassuring.

“ I promise I’ll be gentle.”

Slowly, he pushes forward. The moment his tip breaches your entrance, a sharp sting spreads through you, making you instinctively tap his shoulder. Your breath hitches as you feel yourself stretching around him, a wince slipping past your lips.

He stills immediately.

His brows furrowed with concern as he cups your face, his thumb wiping away the tears that have gathered in your eyes. “ You’re doing so good, baby.” He murmurs, his voice laced with praise. “ So good for me.”

His words are soothing, grounding, easing some of the discomfort.

“ You’re such a good girl…taking me so perfectly,” he whispers, placing soft kisses along your jaw. “ You’re fucking perfect.”

He searches your face, reading every flicker of emotion before asking, “ Do you want me to keep going? We can stop here if you’re not comfortable.”

His eyes bore into yours, waiting—giving you control.

“ No, I want to continue. Just…just—” You groan, voice trembling. “ I’m just scared that your friend out there won’t fit inside me.”

In-ho laughs, the rich sound vibrating through his chest. “ Oh, don’t worry.” He teases, amusement twinkling in his dark eyes. “ I assure you, my friend is very excited to see his new home. So don’t doubt him—he’ll adjust…just for you. He’s patient, y’know?”

The playful remark eases some of the tension, and a small chuckle escapes you despite the overwhelming sensation of him pressing against you.

But the moment you whisper, “ Please…” Your amusement fades into something deeper, something raw.

His smirk lingers. “ Please what, dear? Be specific.”

You swallow hard, your hands gripping onto him as you breathe out, “ Continue.”

And with that, he moves.

Without hesitation, he pushes himself deeper, inch by inch, stretching you in ways you never imagined. A sharp gasp escapes your lips as your body adjusts, the feeling both foreign and intoxicating.

You clutch onto his back, nails sinking into his skin, needing something to ground you as the fullness overwhelms you. He’s so deep, so thick, pressing into places inside you that make your mind spin.

And when he finally takes you completely, it’s not just about passion.

It’s about love.

It’s about years of unspoken emotions, years of longing finally breaking free.

And as he worships your body, showing you just how deeply he feels for you—not just in words, but in the way he touches you, in the way he holds you—one thought lingers in your mind.

No other man has ever made you feel like this.

And no one ever will.

The dim glow of the city lights filters through the curtains, casting soft shadows across the room. Your body is still tangled with In-ho’s, your chest rising and falling in sync with his.

The warmth of his skin against yours is almost too much—overwhelming, consuming, perfect.

For the first time in a long time, you feel wanted. Not just physically, but in a way that goes far deeper.

In-ho moves with measured control, his thrusts deep and precise, hitting that perfect spot inside you over and over again.

His gentleness is still there, a silent promise that he won’t hurt you, but there’s something in the way your body reacts—something desperate, something craving more—that threatens to push him over the edge.

Your moans grow louder, your legs tightening around his waist as your body betrays your need. He feels it—the way you clench around him, the way your breath catches every time he buries himself to the hilt.

His restraint is slipping.

And you know it.

“ In-ho…” You whimper, your voice breathless, pleading.

His eyes darken, his grip tightening on your hips. “ Yeah?” His voice is rough, strained.

You don’t even have to say it. The way you arch beneath him, the way your nails dig into his back, the way you pull him closer—it’s enough.

With a low growl, he gives in, his movements growing rougher, faster, deeper—just the way you need.

His pace quickens, his thrusts becoming more desperate, more intense, as if your body is pulling him deeper, refusing to let him go. The bed creaks beneath you, the air thick with heat and the sound of skin meeting skin.

“ You feel so fucking good.” He groans, his lips trailing down your neck, biting and soothing the spots he claims as his. His hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider for him, allowing him to sink even further.

Your mind is hazy, drowning in the pleasure he’s giving you. Every stroke sends sparks through your veins, tightening the coil in your core. Your body trembles, teetering on the edge, craving that final push.

In-ho notices—of course, he does. He smirks against your skin, his breath hot against your ear.

“ You’re close, aren’t you?” He rasps, his voice thick with lust. “ I can feel you tightening around me, baby. Just let go.”

And with one deep, precise thrust, you shatter.

Your body arches, your vision goes white, and a cry escapes your lips as waves of pleasure crash over you. In-ho groans, feeling you pulse around him, pushing him dangerously close to his own release.

But he’s not done with you yet.

In-ho watches you come undone beneath him, completely mesmerized by the way your body trembles, your lips parted as soft moans escape between heavy breaths. The way you pulse around him—tight, warm, and utterly his—nearly pushes him over the edge, but he’s not finished. Not yet.

He slows his thrusts, letting you ride out your high, but he doesn’t stop. Instead, he leans down, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice husky and filled with restraint.

“ That was beautiful, baby.” He murmurs, pressing soft kisses along your jaw. “ But I’m not done with you.”

Your body is still sensitive, every nerve alight with pleasure, but there’s something thrilling about the way he moves—determined, relentless, desperate to chase his own release while still drawing more from you.

Your hands find his shoulders, nails dragging across his heated skin as he starts moving again, deeper this time, rougher. The gentleness he once held onto is slipping away, replaced with something primal, something raw.

“ You can take it.” He breathes, his forehead pressing against yours. “ Just one more for me, yeah?”

And with the way your body responds to him, the way your breath hitches and your legs tighten around his waist, he knows—you’re already close again.

In-ho’s movements become rougher, more desperate, his control unraveling with every thrust. His grip on your hips tightens as he drives into you, hitting that perfect spot over and over again, sending waves of pleasure crashing through your already sensitive body.

“ You feel so fucking good.” He groans, his voice strained as he buries himself deeper, stretching you, filling you completely.

The pleasure is overwhelming, your body clinging to his as your nails drag down his back, leaving faint red lines in their wake.

His forehead pressed against yours, his breath hot and uneven. “ One more.” He pleads, his tone both commanding and desperate.

“ Give me one more, baby.”

You can barely think, barely breathe. The way he moves, the way his body claims yours so perfectly—it’s too much. The coil in your core tightens once more, and you know you’re about to break again.

“ In-ho… I—”

“ Come for me.” He growls, his hand slipping between your bodies, his fingers finding your most sensitive spot, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that send you spiraling.

A cry rips from your lips as the pleasure crashes over you, more intense than before. Your walls clamp down around him, milking him, pulling him deeper into your pleasure-drunk haze.

In-ho groans, his rhythm faltering as he finally lets go. With one final thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, his body tensing as his release overtakes him.

His grip on you tightens as he shudders against you, his breath ragged, his body trembling from the intensity of it all.

For a moment, the only sound in the room is your shared breathing, heavy and uneven. In-ho’s body remains pressed against yours, his weight comforting, grounding.

Finally, he lifts his head, his dark eyes locking onto yours with something softer, something possessive. A lazy smirk tugs at his lips.

“ Guess my friend did fit after all.” He teases, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.

You roll your eyes, still breathless, but you can’t stop the smile that tugs at your lips. Because deep down, you both know—this was only the beginning.

In-ho stays inside you for a moment longer, his body still pressed against yours as he catches his breath. His fingers trace lazy circles along your waist, his touch soft and possessive, a stark contrast to how rough he had been just moments ago.

Eventually, he pulls out, making you wince slightly at the emptiness he leaves behind. He watches you carefully, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of discomfort before leaning down to press a slow, lingering kiss against your lips.

“ You okay?” He murmurs, his voice softer now, almost tender.

You nod, still dazed, your body feeling weightless, spent, and thoroughly satisfied.

In-ho smirks, brushing his thumb over your swollen lips. “ I knew you could take me.”

You groan, playfully shoving at his chest. “ You’re impossible.”

He chuckles, rolling onto his side beside you, one arm lazily draped across your waist. For a few moments, neither of you speak, just basking in the warmth of each other’s presence, the room still thick with the remnants of your passion.

But then, In-ho shifts, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you. There’s something different in his expression now—something deeper than lust. His fingers trail along your collarbone, down to your chest, tracing invisible patterns against your skin.

“ You’re mine now.”

You shiver at his words, at the possessiveness in his voice. And when your eyes meet his, dark and unreadable, you realize—he’s not just talking about tonight.

This is only the beginning.

In-ho's words linger in the air, heavy with meaning.

You’re mine now.

A shiver runs down your spine, not out of fear, but from the intensity in his gaze. His fingers continue their slow, deliberate path across your skin, as if memorizing every inch of you.

Your heart races, the reality of the moment settling in. There’s something dangerous about the way he looks at you, something possessive and consuming. This isn’t just about tonight—it’s about something far deeper, something neither of you can walk away from now.

“ In-ho…” You whisper, unsure of what to say.

He tilts his head, watching you closely, his smirk softening just a little. “ What?”

You swallow, feeling his fingers trace the curve of your waist. “ You—this—what are we doing?”

His smirk fades, replaced by something unreadable. For a second, he’s silent, as if he’s searching for the right words.

Then, he leans in, pressing his lips to your forehead, lingering there for a moment before pulling away just enough to meet your eyes again.

“ What we should’ve done a long time ago.” He murmurs. “ I’m not letting you go now, Y/n.”

Your breath catches. The weight of his words settles deep in your chest, leaving no room for doubt.

In-ho isn’t just claiming your body.

He’s claiming you.

N/A: Y/n and Jun-ho met when they were 16. In-ho, on the other hand, began to like her when she reached her legal age—around the time Y/n was in her twenties. (I need to clarify this to avoid misunderstandings between the characters)

Y/n and Jun-ho's age right now: 23 (College students)

In-ho's age right now: 30 (I need to lower down his age to make it more accurate)

Tags: @maah-sama @colorwastaken @astronomicalastro-blog1 @nina357 @frontwomann @coruja12345

So...here's the tea everyone. I hope you all like it. I had to stop so many times because I couldn't breathe while writing this.

Yey! Y/n finally choose In-ho! 🙌🏻🥳

See u in part 23! 🔥

[rimatsu]

Lou is listed for 8x18. He was also briefly listed as part of 8x17 but it's gone now 👀

if we learned anything from the 815 and ana flores imdb fiascos, it's that the pre-episode cast listings are wildly unreliable and easily modified by just about anyone with an account and enough free time on their hands. i'm more inclined to believe that lfj (and gabrielle walsh #edna canon s10 trust☝️) were removed by trolls/upset fans after being added by producers than the opposite. either way, we'll only know for sure on thursday.

now personally... based on the original and alternative 817 synopses ("they try to move forward and plan for the future" + "buck contemplates where he's supposed to be") as well as lfj's interview ("post-funeral? [...] he'll show vulnerability"), i suspect we'll see tommy in both the penultimate and final episodes.

(side-note: i think the "where's he's supposed to be" bit mostly refers to buck's professional life as hinted by oliver in his march interviews, or maybe even literally, if eddie is choosing to stay in LA as soon as next episode.)

it's been extensively discussed by now, but tommy's presence in the flashback was unnecessary. i'd argue that it would've been more impactful (and circularly thematic) for chimney to pull bobby back from a near fiery death, yet the writers picked the secondary character as the savior in that scene to remind casual viewers (who might've forgotten s2 by now) that tommy served under bobby, for 3 connected reasons:

1. legitimize his role as a pallbearer

2. further integrate him in the fabric of the show

3. give more substance to the bobby-tommy relationship so that any memory or anecdote he might share with buck carries more weight and doesn't come out of left field (for the GA). i maintain that tommy's role is primarily that of a LI. in verse? his presence in the procession can be explained by his link to the 118 and specifically to bobby as his former subordinate. narratively? tommy was involved in contagion and the funeral bc of his association with buck. eventually, they must talk: tommy is the one character who witnessed buck's raw, unconcealed grief before he put on his composed mask. a setup implies a payoff.

formally speaking, reconciliation will probably happen in the finale. that's when storylines usually converge to be resolved. the end of 817 segues into the big disaster and 818 appears to be emergency heavy, with minimal room for anything beside saving the day and said resolutions. this means that any heart-to-heart buck and tommy might share (and i believe they absolutely need one before making up, short as it may be) needs to happen next episode to set the bulk of the groundwork for that end-of-season bittersweet win. and it looks like buck has the b-plot in 817, so.... 2+2=4.

[katyspersonal]

I'm sure you've already got an ask on this and answered it earlier and I just missed it, but-

I was thinking earlier today about how Leda described the ever wonderful Sir Ansbach and howshe said he tore into Miquella's flesh with his blade until the charm was cast upon him.

Then, when Miquella shows up in the cinematic for the phase change in the Radahn fight, he has three arms, but a sleeve for a fourth on his left shoulder where his original arm should be...

Is this probably something for design or gameplay purposes? Probably. Will I choose to imagine that Ansbach was the one who lopped the arm off despite the presence of Leda and probably others? More than likely.

I still don't know what to make out of Miquella's left arm missing ;-; To this day. A perfect explanation would be if that was the arm sticking out of his cocoon, so, the one part of him that didn't traverse into Land of Shadow. However:

It is his right arm that sticks out, so there is no correlation!

He also did abandon his left arm at some point.. which he had to still have to even do. Miquella abandoned all of his body though, but regained his form upon ascension, but with the exception of left arm!

Maybe Ansbach partially cut his arm, and what Miquella abandoned was actually the shoulder from up there? Thought it is not likely he has even as much as the shoulder when you look at the transparency filter on his model:

My only guess is that something might have been off with his arm when he was still alive, as even his statues as a child picture his arm kind of damaged:

In fact, when I went to look for better screenshots, I've found this image in this ( x ) Reddit thread that illustrates what I am talking about:

And in the same thread, OP observed that (ex?) part of Miquella that stayed carved into Haligtree also has this arm prominent:

So maybe this arm got too screwed, or rather, too inextricably connected with the Haligtree, that he used to nourish with his own blood? Or maybe it is too connected with Malenia, with whom he also shared his blood to literally create some parts of her body? Or both of these things!

Basically: this arm was likely his blood-letting arm, and because of this, it became inseparable from what he left in the Lands Between. It is part of his body that he can't fully separate from as long as Haligtree and Malenia exist, so he was not able to get "ascended" version of his arm!

Okay chat I think we might have figured this out hhdhfsdhs At least I think this is a reasonable assumption! I wonder if he felt bittersweet seeing how despite all his efforts, one part of him is "rotted" too hard into the fate he wanted to abandon

[littlespoonevan]

The main thing for me is how unnecessary it was like , like truly it crashes and ruins the theme of the show and of a overall and whole good show that could perfectly landed a 10 season with all the mains and storytelling wise there many many others things they could have done with characters with even Bobby if they wanted to switch dynamics’s bit let Bobby move into the chain a like in Chicago fire where the captain became distric chief and he still is there every episode for a reason or another like I think he eventually even got his office in the same station again so many things and this taints the show and the stories specially the one that could come next (for me it even feels like even the potential of a buddie canon is tainted and I hate that I hate that one white man ego did so much damage to a shows and characters I love so much like I hate that if we get buddie canon I personally won’t be able to enjoy the exact same way I would before , because I will be missing Bobby and because I don’t trust them anymore either with these characters )

i'm 100% with you, anon

gonna put my thoughts under a cut in case anyone doesn't want to read!

askjdhf i don't even know where to start but you're soooo right re: the ways bobby could've taken on a different role and taken a backseat. i saw posts a few weeks ago that also suggested they could've shown the lasting impacts of a career-ending injury that would've actually forced him into retirement which i also think would've been a really interesting approach.

and in terms of the other parts of your ask, i agree that it taints the storylines unnecessarily. when 8x15 came out that was one of the things i made a post about at the time. this choice impacts other stories. in this case: namely eddie's which wasn't finished and is now irrevocably going to be tied up with grief over bobby. and it's like. obviously it should be, i'm not refuting that. but it's so FRUSTRATING bc that's not what his story was supposed to be about!!!! and i'm so annoyed we won't get to see him and chris choose to come home bc it's what they want or that them coming home won't get to be the happy affair it should be. i'm sure it'll still be great but it'll be so much more bittersweet and tinged with a pain that shouldn't be there

and i know it's not the point but i do feel the same re: buddie. i've never been more sure than i was 8x09-8x13 but now i have no idea where things are going. again, it just feels like the momentum has been pulled out from under them and while i'll still be ecstatic if we get it, it won't be the same :/ one thing i've always championed this show about is that i trust the writers and i believe they actually like their audience and i really don't like that all of the circumstances around bobby's death and the bts of it has made me call that into question.

and just to touch on your first point: the fact that peter didn't choose to leave and that the shows still has all of its mains 8 seasons in is a huge feat and i have absolutely no fucking idea why anyone would want to jeopardize that but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

ultimately i think my biggest concern (beyond just generally missing bobby and what he brings to the show) is that this completely alters the tone of the show. and i don't think they know how to navigate that. because either they lean more into the heavier/darker tone and lose the lovely balance they've always had. or they try to maintain that balance but it feels wrong when the characters should be grieving. the show is going to move on far quicker than we want them to bc of the episode structure but i don't think they can just slip back into eps like jinx or treasure hunt or whatever as easily as they think they can.

and listen i could be wrong!!! maybe it'll all be handled brilliantly or maybe he's not really dead!!! but i still don't like the storyline and 8x16 hasn't inspired me with much confidence of where we're going

TL;DR bring captain dad back to me please 😭😭

[radioactivedadbod]

On one hand I understand people being like 'Why didn't Peter B. ever react to Gwen being, ya kno, Gwen.'

But on the other

It's probably been like 20 years for him at this point he has grieved and moved on

[youryanderedaddy]

Summary: You run into your snobby ex boyfriend after a drunken party. Things go south from there. tw: female reader, hinted murder, possessive behavior, condescension, financial(?) abuse, classism

You know this is a stupid, stupid idea. Going home at God knows what time in the pitch black is never a good idea, you think drowsily, head still spinning from the last beer, but even more so when you're tired, pissed off and tipsy. You're freezing, naked shoulders wet from the chilly midnight rain - but instead of soft damp linden, you smell molden concrete and metal. You fucking hate this city. You hate the stupid, flashy, obnoxious parties for rich people, and this shitty university in the middle of nowhere, and even the scholarship that forced you into close proximity with the freakish upper class of east New Hemptison.

"Baby!" A familiar voice sinks into the muddy darkness and you have to physically restrain yourself from emptying your stomach right there on the street - and knowing your neighbours, you'd have to clean it after too. His steps fasten and soon you feel his hand gripping your shoulder to turn you around. Standing before you, glistening just like some prince from a fairy tale, is everything you despise about this town. The fact that he's perfectly prim and proper despite the pounding rain, that his teeth seem almost pearly white in the dark, that his hair is crisp and slicked away tastefully, that even now he's wearing a fucking Armani shirt with the cheesiest pair of jeans (ones you could never afford) - it makes you want to crawl back to the cave you came from, two continents away, and never look back.

"Baby, where have you been?" He sounds terribly concerned as he pulls your shivering body in for a tight bear hug, running his hands through your absolutely soaked hair - murmuring something incomprehensible to your drunken mind. "I was worried sick, missy." His voice drops slightly, but it's all for show. He's playing the part of the good boyfriend, like always - and you fell for it once, you did, but you know better now. "I called you, like, sixty eight times. And nothing." He swallows, big hands trembling around you. "Just radio silence. I thought something bad happened to y-"

"Oh, f-uucking beat it." Your patience finally snaps and you push him off swiftly, barely contained anger starting to resurface again. Today was supposed to be about you, about healing, about feeling better, but just your luck - the very problem had found you, just like always. No matter where you go, your troubles follow. "You know what you did, asshole. Don't you d-aare play innocent with m-me." You hiss drunkenly, stumbling all over your words before hitting the wall all on your own. Mathew, of course, doesn't waste the oppurtunity to get closer to you - just so he can help you regain your balance, of course. The golden boy of Saint Hemptison would never take advantage of an intoxicated girl - much less his ex girlfriend who he's still hopelessly in love with, supposedly. Right.

"Baby, please, you're drunk - you're not making any sense." The man whispers softly, placing his hand at your hip. "Let's go to the penthouse. We can talk about this in the morning when you are more aware of your thoughts."

When you're more aware of your thoughts? You almost laugh. It's quite bittersweet when it hits you that he doesn't respect you even now - maybe he never has in the duration of your miserable relationshop, that in his eyes you'll always be the poor girl in need of a white knight. Just a little trophy to show off, if a bit broken in certain spots.

"I am not going anywhere with you." You mumble, trying to calm down - to appear cold and collected, the complete opposite of what he wants you to be. "Look, I know that you're mad at me, babygirl, but I'm sure your little temper tantrum can wait until tomorrow. You know I don't like this neighbourhood. Let me take you to a safe place for the night, okay?" He reaches for your hand again, but this time you swat it away in fury.

"Who are you to act so worried about me, huh?" You can hear your voice breaking as the tears prick at your eyes - hot and shameful. Crying in front of him is the last thing you want to do, but god, it's so hard not to when this whole night has been a disaster after a disaster. You're truly at your wits' end. "After what you did? You are truly shameless." You squeal, and admittedly, it feels fucking great to finally say it.

Your former lover's face twists into an unrecognizable grimace as he watches you tear into his heart with ease - and as you turn to leave, he grabs your wrist painfully. This time something is different about his eyes - they're not longer smiling. Now they're two bottomless gray pits devoid of kindness, the same eyes you saw the night of the accident as he caressed your cold cheek with bloody knuckles.

"And what did I do, love? Hm?" He tilts your chin up by squeezing your throat, forcing you to meet his eerie gaze. Suddenly all your tipsy bravado evaporates into thin air. "Please, refresh my memory. I really can't recall the events of the past two weeks - since you've been avoiding me and all..." His fingers dig into your skin and you wince just like a kicked puppy - but he doesn't bulge an inch. Suddenly everything comes flooding back - the touches you convinced yourself were sensual, not possesive, the glances you once thought of as romantic, the constant interrogations, the strange emails, the cryptic calls, the dead roses at your door. "I couldn't sleep - or eat for that matter. I am half a man without you. I lose myself completely."

It all makes sense now. You feel like crying, because it's so crystal clear... and you've been a willing fool. You had closed your eyes, because it was easier to lie than to accept the truth bubbling just under his surface - under the dimples and the smiles, and the hundred jewelry boxes still lying unopened under your bed.

"You - you killed him! You monster!" You gasp, unable to stop your lips from uttering the lethal. You thrash around to no avail, you're stuck. "How could you? Jack was your friend!" You hide your face in the crook of his neck to stop the sobs, too scared to look at the crazed man holding you. He simply rolls his eyes, letting you soak his shirt with your pretty tears. "Don't be so dramatic - it's just some broken bones. He'll be fine... as long as he stays away from my things."

You raise your head shakily - you're drowning between hatred, fear and misery. The adrenaline is making you even more disoriented than the liquor percentage in your bloodstream.

"I am not a fucking thing for you to-" You hiccup, growing woozy as you hit weakly against his chest. The corners of his lips curl up slightly as he chuckles at the pitiful display. "For you to just own!" You keep going, cheeks purple from pent up fury - there's something tearing at your insides like you want to scream, you need it to come out, but you find yourself unable to push it off your flesh like it's been ingrained with glue and a shovel.

"You're wrong, baby. I do own you." Mathew says with the sweetest, softest voice you've heard in your life, sugary and bitter like poisonous honey. "Let's say you want to break up-"

"We already broke u-"

His eyes pierce you mid-sentence. You quickly close your mouth.

"Let's say," He repeats through gritted teeth, holding you so tightly you might just merge into one being. "That you want to break up with me." He inhales deeply, nostrils flaring. "Hypothetically. Then what? You have no place to live. I know you're staying at that shithole of a hotel down the street right now - it's filthier than a brothel, no?"

You want to say something - to argue, to scream. To tell him that he's being a rich, condescending asshole again, that you like the hotel - despite the mold and the cockroaches and the way there never seems to be hot water. Despite having to lock your door four times so you don't get assaulted in your sleep.

You say nothing.

"You don't have to confirm it. My agent tracked you down a week ago. Whatever - you'll run out of money in, approximately, 9 days." He smirks maliciously, with unhidden spite - just like a little devil. "Then what? You don't even have an address. And you know the city hall will take their sweet fucking time to help you register - if they don't make you pay a fine first." He strokes your chin cruelly. "We both know just how much they care about clueless little foreigners with less than a penny to their name." He whispers, twisting the dagger in. "Hell, they may even cut your scholarship. And. then. what." Your ex pronounces each word slowly - making sure you can understand it, feel it - fear it.

You imagine your family back at home. You can hear their voices over the phone, your mom smiling as you tell her about your day, your father asking you what you plan to do after college - whether you will still remember them, whether you'd take care of them once they have nothing left, since you took everything with you. The money, the hopes, the happiness...

"F-fuck you..." You whimper faintly, falling against him. You feel defeated, and the sharp words are all you have left. "Why are you doing this to me?" You mumble to yourself, suddenly feeling drained to the very bone. The man begins stroking your hair as he rocks you gently to the side. "Because I love you." He slowly kisses down your neck. "Because I'm the only one in this city who gives a fuck about you, and-" You can feel his smile against your burning cheek. "Because you're mine."

[seungcheorry]

dokyeom isn't the best at confrontations. sure, he knows how to stand up for himself when it's needed, and he knows how to protect you if the moment ever comes, but still - he's not like his seungcheol hyung, for an example.

so dokyeom really debates if he should wake you up or not right now. you're sleeping with puffy eyes, your eyelashes still kinda damp, a sulky expression all across your face. he doesn't like seeing you like that, and the way your fingers are holding your pillow with such strenght makes his heart sink even harder.

"jagi...", dokyeom calls softly, a hand resting on your arm. "jagi, wake up."

you stir in your sleep, opening your eyes with cautious. dokyeom is crouched down in front of you, his whole face wet too as his eyes are just as equally red and puffy as yours. he sniffs, being a little bold and letting his thumb caress your skin.

"i'm sorry to wake you up, but i think we should talk", he calmly says, a contrast of how strong and firm his voice were before.

"right now?", you ask in a bittersweet tone, pulling your arm away so he can't touch you.

dokyeom holds back his tears once again, using the back of his hand to clean the little wet spot under his nose.

"yes, please", he nods. "let's not do this. let's not go to bed angry at each other, please."

you watch as dokyeom looks up at you, his lips pressed together and his whole self looking a little... defeated. you know the make up is always the hardest part for him, his sensitive heart and soul doesn't deal well with the way his anxious mind tell him that you're just about to leave, or that he screwed everything up.

you know because you felt before, the way his hands trumbled and he just listened and listened to you, whispering a few 'i'm sorry' when you had your first big fight. still, even back then, dokyeom had never allowed you to walk away from the place you two were (it didn't matter if it was his place, yours, a random restaurant), and never allowed the fight to escalate further than for two days - and, in his own words, he "almost died several times in those two days".

so of course he wouldn't let you sleep your anger and sadness away either. of course he would find a way to get on your better side again before dawn. that's just who dokyeom is, right?

so what could you possibly tell him, other than...

"of course", and a sigh, patting the bed beside you. "come here."

[yumeka-sxf]

After two months, the SxF manga is finally back! There's lots of interesting Melinda content here, so let's analyze!

I would say the main thing we learned about Melinda in this chapter reinforces what's been hinted at before - not only does she truly despise Donovan, but she's actually terrified of him. Her expression on this page when she thinks of his souless eyes says it all.

Whether her fear comes from direct abuse, knowledge of what unspeakable things he's done in the past, or something else entirely, has yet to be seen. This chapter also emphasizes the fact that she can't freely do what she wants without being fearful of what he would do. Just like at the end of the bus hijacking arc where she made Damian promise not to tell Donovan that she had come to pick him up, we see in this chapter that she can't let him know about her occult hobby either.

But while it's not clear what exactly Donovan does or has done to her to make her like this, what is clear is that her fear of him is what's caused this inescapable hatred of him, which was so strong that it caused her to also develop feelings of hatred for her son because he's something that connects her to Donovan. But like we've seen before when Anya first read her mind, her dislike for Damian is fickle; one minute she wants him to disappear, but deep down she loves him. While the first incident after the hijacking made her seem more ambivalent, this chapter reveals that her "good" side is her true intent - wanting to be a worthy mother to Damian and see him happy.

But her fear of Donovan is so gripping, that just the thought of confronting him makes her paralyzed with fear. She becomes too exhausted to continue and even starts questioning why she bothers with fortune telling at all. Perhaps it's an unconscious coping method that she uses to try and find a way out of the horrible situation she's in.

Hopefully we'll learn even more about Melinda in the next chapter when she has her appointment with "Dr. Forger." But another thing I wanted to point out in this chapter is reiterating how empathetic Yor is to Melinda's condition despite not knowing what's actually bothering her. And in recommending that Melinda see Loid at work, she's actually helping with his mission! (of course only Anya realized this).

And oh my god, the "grim reaper" joke had me cackling 😂 Their expressions in the first panel were hilarious enough, but then Yor had to make sure Anya knows that she doesn't use a scythe! That's just so her.

Guess it wouldn't be a SxF chapter without one quiet, bittersweet scene, courtesy of Loid this time 😭

I also love how the boys are enamored with Yor. Even foul-mouthed Damian can't bring himself to be directly rude to her, so he just runs away 😆

I know a lot can be said about the Tarot card meanings, but this post is long enough already, so I'll leave that part up to others who are better with that type of analysis 😅 I'm just glad the SxF manga is officially back! I'm relieved Endo is better and giving my best wishes that his health continues to stay good 🤞

[dwaekkicidal]

The Easy Way vs The Hard Way

˚ʚBang Chan x fem!Readerɞ˚

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: I was thinking about brat taming the other day and I came to the conclusion that Chris has 2 different ways to tame a brat. So I procrastinated on my fics + assignments and wrote this :)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: ~1k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: fem!reader, largely based around Daddy kink, creampie (try to pee after sex pls <3), breeding mentions, Chris calls himself Daddy, 'good girl' used #2: kinda hard dom!chris, man handling, spanking

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ notes: sorry not sorry that 'hard' is longer than 'easy' (are u surprised? have you SEEN my content?) and take this off of schedule because I hate letting things sit in my drafts for more than a day 😭 ALSO Sharing is Caring part 2 coming out later this week :3 (along with a Jisung request I got hehe <3)

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

I think he has 2 ways of taming brats depending on what his mood is. So here's a little scenario to picture so that I can explain what I mean!

After a long day for the both of you, you guys indulge each other in a nice hour or 2 of foreplay before he finally fucks you. After you both finish, Chris pulls away to watch his cum drip out of you and you wiggle your hips to tease him. He slaps your ass playfully in response and teases you back by saying something along the lines of “Unless you’re trying to get bred tonight, I suggest you stop shaking your ass at me like that baby.” “As if you would complain about that. For somebody who calls himself ‘Daddy’ and says he ‘DoEsN’t MeAn It LiKe ThAt’, you sure as hell are trying to become one.” He originally laughs, but once he processes that you mocked him he rolls his eyes at you, “Just have to be a little brat? Maybe I didn’t fuck you thoroughly enough.” You scoff, crossing your arms and turning to look at him, “You think you do that anyways?”

So. How does theee Bang Christopher Chan deal with this?

‘Easy’ Way; aka “kill them with kindness”

“You think you do that anyways?”

He simply narrows his eyes at you, placing his hands on his hips, “Yeah?”

You proudly respond with an “Mhm." and stick your chin up.

He chuckles, stepping towards you and raising his hand to rest against your cheek, softly caressing the skin there. “But baby, you were just the one begging me to fuck you. Surely if I ‘never’ fucked you thoroughly enough, you wouldn’t be on your knees begging for my dick to be in you?”

You frown and he laughs in response, not giving you a chance to speak up before he continues. His free hand trails down your stomach and stops at your cunt, where he ghosts his fingers along your folds. You whimper and chew on your bottom lip, looking away from him shyly.

"And... Where did my good girl go? Hm? My pretty baby who listens soo well.” His fingers tease your hole before you’re filled with two of them. “My sweet doll who would never let her Daddy down like this.” His fingers double their efforts and the hand on your cheek slides a thumb into your puffy lips. "The good girl who doesn’t disrespect her Daddy like this… Where is she at?” Your breath suddenly becomes hectic and he can tell you’re getting close.

Between the bittersweet words and the eager movements against your pussy, you slip into another mindset all too easily. He smiles when you finally look at him with glossy eyes and respond in a small voice, "'M right here..." He tilts his head at you expectantly and you squirm in his hold before repeating yourself louder. "I'm right here Daddy.."

"Oh, hi baby. Is my good girl back now?" You nod desperately in response, tightening your hands into fists against his chest as you grip around his fingers. "And is she ready to behave?"

"Yes, Daddy. 'M sorry.."

"Shhh, it’s okay baby. Now be good and cum on my fingers, kay?"

Hard’ Way; aka “fuck around and find out”

“You think you do that anyways?”

His eyebrows furrow and his tongue drags against the inside of his cheek. “Yeah? You’re really gonna do this right now? Right after I was nice enough to let you cum?” You gulp but stand your ground, making a scene to roll your eyes and lean back against the headboard.

He sits there silently, trying to give you another chance to come to your senses to realize that you’re butt ass naked in front of him and at his mercy. When you instead cock your head sideways with a bunch of attitude, he sighs loudly. His hands suddenly grips your ankles and drags you towards him. Then you’re flipped into your stomach and he renters you with no warning.

Your jaw drops and you moan loudly in surprise. His hands take turns slamming down against your ass cheeks over and over, seemingly getting harder with each slap. He sighs contently at the way you cling tightly around him with each smack, and he only stops once your cheeks are beet red and you’re trembling below him.

He hums to himself and taps the flesh, making it burn more and watching as you shake. "Such a pretty thing with such pretty reactions.. If only you were a good plaything and shut that pretty mouth for once."

He watches as your head snaps back towards him for a moment, the angry face and tears running down your face only make him smile at you. You feel his hips drag away from you, painfully slowly, until only the first centimeter or two of his tip are in you. You're taking a deep breath trying to regain your composure when a hand grabs a tight grip of your hair and pulls you backwards, his hips slamming forward at the same time.

A choke leaves you at the suddenness but he wastes no time, using the leverage in your hair to hold you in place as he fucks into you roughly. The aftermath of your previous orgasm sneaks up on you and you feel another one building up in no time. You melt into the sheets at the feeling, shaking as you almost tip over from one of the faster orgasms you've experienced, but Chris proves himself to be faster.

In an instant he's pulling out completely and holding you down preemptively for when you start thrash and whine. He waits until you stop kicking your feet at him, a tell tale sign that the tightness in your stomach finally faded, then he all of the sudden plunges back into you. The slide against your walls is rough, but you can’t deny how well it’s breaking down your resolution.

He uses the hand in your hair to tilt your head up at him when he leans forward to tower over you. It's very uncomfortable but it gives him the advantage as his narrowed eyes bore directly into you. He eventually changes positions, not wanting to actually hurt you like that, and he uses the new one to bring you to another orgasm. One that he, of course, ruins immediately with no hesitation.

This happens multiple times across the next 2 hours, to the point where you lost count of how many orgasms slipped away. It's not until you're sobbing beneath him and no longer kicking at him with each ruined orgasm, that he's flipping you onto your back and leaning down to kiss your tears away.

"Are you done now, love? You ready to be my good girl again?"

Your arms wrap around his neck and your lower lip trembles as you nod. He smiles, petting your hair and cooing at you before returning to his previous pace fucking you.

"There we go..."

Taglist:

@jiminssluttyminx @changisworld @juskz @linohumina

[dustofthedailylife]

How to Steal the Duke's Heart 101

→ Masterlist || → Taglist -> Next Part

Pairing: Wriothesley x (gn!) Reader

Summary: The moment your verdict was decided as guilty you were brought to the Fortress of Meropide - despite being innocent. Little did you know that the trip to prison would make you meet the love of your life.

Tags: Fluff, kissing, you're in prison (but innocent), some violence (not graphic), swearing

A/N: Due to me being utterly normal about Wriothesley I had the idea for this fic - who am I kidding I would commit a crime for this man.

“According to the judgment of the Oratrice Mechanique d’Analyse Cardinale, the defendant is declared… guilty.”

The voice of Chief Justice Neuvillette was ringing in your ears as he read out the verdict. Your verdict.

You couldn’t believe it. You knew you hadn’t done what you had been accused of, that the eyewitnesses had lied the moment they had opened their mouths, that the evidence had been tampered with, that you had been framed for the crime – but you were innocent. And no one was ever going to believe you. 

After all, the device that had handed you the fateful false verdict was treated as infallible in Fontaine. You now at least had proof that its reputation was nothing but hollow words. But what use was the knowledge other than just a bittersweet confirmation for no one but yourself? 

And before you knew it, guards were escorting you out the back of the Opera Epiclese in handcuffs. Roughly dragging you along with them into a big elevator. Down – deeper and deeper into the depths of the ocean.

You had heard stories of the Fortress of Meropide before – the secluded place where all criminals and outcasts of Fontaine resided. The place no one had ever come back from to tell the tale. At least not in one piece.

You weren’t sure how you felt on the way down the elevator but you would describe it as something akin to hollowness.

The glances the guards threw your way out of the corner of their eyes literally screamed disgust. You were nothing more than a dirty criminal to them after all – someone who was to be shunned and banished from society for all eternity. And if you really had done what you were convicted for, you wouldn’t even blame them for their disdain.

When the elevator arrived at the bottom the doors opened with a mechanical hiss. The scent of machine oil, iron, and damp moldy cellars immediately pricked at your nose and it was the exact opposite of what you’d call homely. 

The guards turned you in at the reception, where a rather unpleasant woman took your mugshots before handing you over to yet another rather unfriendly man who led you even further down into the Fortress.

With every new step you took, you tried to come to terms with the fact that the sight of damp, stone, and ironclad walls as well as the lingering industrial smell was going to be your life from now on. 

And the dawning realization of that was painfully pulling a tight rope around your throat. You wanted to scream, you wanted to cry and most of all, you wanted to run away and pretend like all of this was a bad dream. But you couldn't.

Instead, you were trodding behind the man who was escorting you and silently began to cry as big beads of tears soon began rolling down your cheeks.

"Crying won't help you anymore, sweetheart." The man remarked almost mockingly as soon as he looked back over his shoulder at your defeated frame. "Should've thought about that before you did some shit."

No. You’re wrong. I'm innocent.

At least that was what you wanted to spit back at him. But it was as if any fierceness or strength to stand up for yourself had left you the moment you set foot into this prison. You simply had no strength left to fight.

You soon arrived in a gigantic circular room. The contraption in the middle almost looked like a giant engine, elevators were going up one level on one side and even further down on the other side of the room. The ceiling was so high up that you almost couldn't make it out at all. The light was dim and the only real light sources were yellow lanterns whose light was bouncing off of the copper-colored iron pipes, crates, and frames that lined the entire room. Gloomy would probably be the best way to describe it.

The pungent smell of oil and damp cellar was hanging in the air here as well and probably even more prominent than it had been before. Only now it was also mixed with what you thought was old sweat and… tea? The smell of the latter seemed oddly out of place and you couldn't make out where exactly it was coming from. All you knew was that it was probably the only pleasant smell you had encountered down here.

Taking the elevator up one level again the man you had been following this entire time led you into a side hallway that looked more like a vent pipe. The dimly lit room that was lying behind it was only furnished with a bunk bed and a barely functioning lantern. He unlocked your handcuffs before roughly shoving you into the room with a smug grin on his face.

"Make yourself at home." He chuckled mockingly before turning around on his heel and leaving while whistling a tune to himself that eerily echoed off the stone walls.

You lay down on the bed, exhaling in defeat. Your throat still felt like someone had painfully tied it shut and tears were dangerously pricking at the corners of your eyes. 

Now what?

You had no idea what to do here aside from sitting your time off. Where do you get food? Were you supposed to work and if yes, where do you have to and when?

You closed your eyes as a single tear escaped from the corner of your eyes, rolling down your cheek, dampening the pillow you lay on. 

All you heard around you were wet droplets falling from the ceiling onto the wet stone floor, distant voices from down below, and your own breathing. The only thing that drowned these sounds out were the thoughts in your head. 

Now that you had a quiet moment to yourself after everything that had gone down today, the realization about your situation was beginning to seep in for good. This bed, these walls, the oily smell… this was going to be the rest of your life now.

And that’s when you broke down and started crying once again.

Eventually, you must’ve fallen asleep because the next thing you knew was waking up to the smell of food wafting through the air vent in front of your room. 

You got up from the bed, took the elevator down, and followed the smell. Soon you found yourself standing in front of a Cafeteria, where fellow inmates were queuing for lunch. Or was it dinner? You’ve barely even been here a day, but the distinct lack of daylight already made you lose track of time.

You sighed and walked over, queuing for some food as well. You didn’t have any appetite but you knew you had to eat something and your grumbling stomach was screaming for food, appetite be damned. Much to your dismay, the food needed to be paid for, well, at least the stuff that looked digestible.

You ordered the only free option and sat down with the bowl of grayish, funky-looking liquid whose consistency was more akin to that of wallpaper paste. It didn’t look appetizing, but at least it was free and would prevent you from starving.

Just as you were about to lift the first spoon of gooey pap in your mouth, someone sat down at your table, making you halt your movement for a brief second. 

He placed his tray on the table with a loud bang before plopping down on the bench right in front of you. His food looked tremendously more high quality than yours. Your mouth began watering from just looking at it. Freshly made roast potatoes with rosemary, fluffy pieces of baguette with salted butter, a big juicy piece of meat – grilled to perfection, and a glass of mousse au chocolat.

He leaned forward, supporting himself on the table with his elbows, folded his hands and intensely looked at you with his piercing blue eyes. It seemed like he wasn’t in a hurry to start eating any time soon.

You pretended to ignore him and began eating. The soup, which could vaguely be identified as lentil soup, left a slimy feeling on your tongue and tasted completely bland. Every fiber of your body told you to spit it back out again but with enough willpower, you actually managed to swallow it. Not without pulling a grimace first though.

“You’re new here.” The stranger in front of you observed with curiosity.

You looked up at him, nodding slowly shoveling another spoonful of goo in your mouth before going back to ignoring him. You weren’t really interested in trying to make connections here. All you wanted was to get out of here again – even though you knew deep down that the likelihood of that was nearing zero.

“Adapting well?” He inquired, still not in a hurry to touch his food.

You suspiciously looked up at him. There was just something about this guy that was off. He didn’t quite fit in here at all. He was admittedly very handsome. He looked well groomed and his attire was way too pompous to be an inmate - or maybe he was some rich guy who got some sort of special treatment down here. Every other inmate was avoiding your table and people looked at him with an almost reverent look in their eyes. If it wasn’t for the scars that seemed to cover the majority of his body already, this just further confirmed your gut feeling to avoid this guy at all costs in the future.

“I’ll take that as a no.” He chuckled, eyeing you further with a smirk plastered on his lips.

“What do you want?” You asked, now slightly annoyed.

“Just trying to strike up some friendly conversation. You know, seeing how lost you were while ordering food, not knowing about tickets, and just dashing around like a scared blubberbeast, led me to believe that no one gave you a rundown of how this place works. So, allow me?” He remarked with that same smirk.

When you wordlessly motioned for him to continue, he began explaining the workings and rules down here in detail. Unspoken rules, general rules, what and who to avoid, how jobs worked, work times, payment and money, general daily schedule, and a lot more. There was simply so much you were beginning to feel lightheaded as soon as he had finished speaking and you could feel the lump in your throat grow in size with every minute that passed. You would never be able to live here.

“That should about cover the basics.” He finished explaining as you swallowed thickly.

You opened your mouth in order to speak but he swiftly lifted his finger to shut you up. 

“No need to say anything. I know it’s not easy to adapt to a new environment. Especially not one you feel trapped in. But that feeling will fade eventually. Trust me.” He threw you a genuine smile before lifting himself up from the bench and pushing his tray with the food in your direction, pointing at it with an offering gesture.

“Welcome to the Fortress of Meropide.” He said, before striding away.

“Wait-” You jumped up from the table causing him to halt in his tracks and turn around once more. “What’s your name?”

“Wriothesley.”

After this strange encounter with the mysterious and admittedly attractive man, you didn’t see him around for a long while. This came as a surprise because you’d assume someone with his looks and attire would stick out like a sore thumb wherever he went. But it was as if the ground itself had swallowed him.

You wanted to see him again, mostly because you thought you could learn from him for your life down here. And despite your gut telling you that he was a walking red flag you had developed a strange curiosity for him.

You had begun working at the ship dockyard where a big window was offering a view into the ocean. You could somewhat make out the sky and time of day from there and it was the only thing that kept you from going completely insane in here. All you had done was sleep, work, eat, and repeat since you came here. Some people had tried speaking to you and some asked what you were here for, but you didn’t have any interest in conversing with them – especially not after you had tried telling someone that you were innocent and they had just laughed at you. Needless to say, you had no desire to connect with people – although he was the only exception seeing as you were craving to talk to him again, as much as you tried to deny it.

Today you were working at the docks again and found yourself longingly staring out of the large window. Your mind drifted off and you wondered how it would feel to simply swim back up to the surface where your lost freedom lay.

“Beautiful view, isn’t it?” A familiar voice reached your ears from behind. 

“Wriothesley!”

The man in question walked up to you and came to a halt right next to you. He looked out through the window himself before looking at you from the corner of his eyes with a slight smirk.

“Still longing for the surface?” He inquired, crossing his arms over his chest. “It never fully goes away but once you get used to the Fortress you’ll find yourself unable to want to leave.”

“Is that so?” You ushered quietly, scoffing. You were simply unable to believe him, not when your freedom had been taken unjustifiably. 

“Thank you for the food the other day, by the way. I didn’t have a chance to thank you yet.” You attempted to divert the topic.

“Don’t mention it.” He waved dit off with an unwavering smile. “It is almost time for lunch, have you eaten yet? We could head to the Cafeteria together. My treat.”

“Oh, you absolutely don’t have to, I have enough credits for food now that–”

“Please. I insist.”

And so you found yourself sitting at the table with Wriothesley again, with the most exquisite meal that tickets could buy down here. 

You were surprised he was able to fork over nearly four thousand credits to buy the meals as if they were nothing. And especially since he treated you to such a meal as well, while everyone else down here held onto their credits as if their life depended on it. And of course, you also didn’t miss the stares of the others again when you sat down with your fancy meal.

You carefully eyed the food and then Wriothesley as if you didn’t deserve to be treated to something like this. He looked back at you with a genuine smile as he continued nibbling on his baguette.

“Anything wrong?” He asked with curiosity.

“No. It’s just… why–?”

“Why am I treating you to something?” He raised an eyebrow in amusement as if he had read your thoughts. You nodded slowly in reply.

“You’re interesting. That’s all there is to it.” He admitted with a smirk.

“I’m interesting? Me?” You raised your eyebrows in surprise. “You say that when you’re the one I could say that about. You don’t look like you fit in here at all, you have a truckload of credits to spend, and everyone here looks at you like you own the place.” 

You paused for a second, eyeing him suspiciously. “You’ve been here for a long time already, haven’t you?”

“You… could say that, yeah.” He replied with a chuckle, dipping his baguette into the rich sauce on his plate.

“Why are you here?” You continued prying.

“You’ll find out soon enough.” He replied with a smug grin before he continued eating.

You couldn’t quite decide if he was a red flag you should run as far away from as possible or if you wanted to get to know him closer. But either way, your first priority for now was not letting the food go to waste so you began eating the heavenly-tasting meal.

A silence settled between you two that was surprisingly pleasant as you both quietly ate with the occasional glace thrown at each other. 

Once you were both done he took your tray with him to put it into the tray cart before turning back around with a smile.

“Same time tomorrow?” He asked.

“U-uh… yeah, sure. I don’t see why not.” You stammered a bit taken aback, still confused as to why he wanted to hang out with you so much. You were a nobody with nothing to your name – not even a criminal record technically.

“Great. See you tomorrow then.”

And with that, a habit would slowly form. You would meet up for lunch each day and not long after, also for dinner. He often picked you up at the docks and bought a meal for you and only sometimes you were able to deter him from doing so and insisted that you bought your own since you were genuinely beginning to feel bad even if he seemed well off. 

You sometimes sat down for a long time talking even after you both had finished eating. You chatted just about anything and as it would turn out you two seemed to share similar interests. You found out he really loved tea and had extensive knowledge in that regard. And it just so happened that you too were a fellow tea aficionado. Not only that though, you two shared a similar taste in music, books, food, and more. After a couple of weeks had gone by it felt like you had already been friends for the longest time. And much to your surprise, not once had he attempted to ask you why you were here or pried into your private life.

On another such day, you were just heading out of the dormitories towards the Cafeteria to meet up with him. But before you could arrive there someone forcefully yanked you behind some iron crates. You crashed against them with the back of your head with a loud bang, momentarily losing consciousness as pain shot through your system.

"What kinda big shot are ya, huh? What're ya sitting for?" A man yelled at you aggressively. 

As soon as you got a grasp of your surroundings again, even though now extremely dizzy, you saw a big bulky guy with a missing front tooth who was pinning you against the boxes by your throat with an iron grip. He was accompanied by two other, less muscular guys who were staring at you in the same aggressive manner. His lackeys, you assumed.

"I have- I have no idea… what you're talking about." You struggled the words out due to the applied pressure on your vocal cords.

"What're ya here for, asshole?!" The man yelled at you even louder now, a few beads of spit flying right into your face through his tooth gap.

"I… I didn't do anything. I–" You gasped breathlessly as you clutched your hands around the hand around your throat, trying to alleviate some of the pressure being applied to it.

"Bullshit! You don't land here for twiddlin’ ya thumbs counterclockwise. And if the Duke's got the eye on ya already, ya've to be some VIP or some shit!" The toothless man spit on the ground between your feet.

“Duke?” You asked confusedly. 

“Tch, don’t fuck with me here, shut ya trap. Now, tell me. What’ve ya done? Be honest or I might’ve’ta polish your visage a lil’.” He viciously cackled in unison with his two lackeys who were cheering on him.

“I didn’t. Do. Anything.” You bit back through clenched teeth, putting a strong emphasis on each word. And before you were able to react, a stinging pain shot through your system as a fist connected with your face, sending your head flying back against the crate once again.

You immediately began to see stars and could feel your consciousness quickly fade away. The ringing in your ears and the accompanying dizziness from the impact was overbearing everything and all you could make out before you passed out was a flash of white light and pleas for mercy. Then everything faded to black.

The next thing you knew was waking up with a bandage around your head and an intense migraine. You felt like a horde of boars had trampled over you. The omnipresent pain got worse when you instinctively tried to sit up on the bed you found yourself on.

You hissed in pain and immediately felt a pair of big hands push you back into the fluffy bedding.

“Stay.” 

You recognized this voice. You had heard it so often in the past couple of weeks that, despite your delirious state, you had no issue placing it.

“Wriothesley.” You uttered weakly with your eyes still closed.

“Yes, it’s me. I’m here.”

He took hold of your hand with a reassuring squeeze and the feeling of his warmth on your skin made you feel tingly all over and the all-present pain immediately felt like it was being alleviated ever so slightly. Out of all people you were glad it was him by your side.

“What? Where?” You rasped, attempting to slowly open your eyes.

“We’re in a separate room at the Fortress Infirmary. Someone roughed you up real good and you fell unconscious. I arrived just in time to prevent worse. You’ll probably have a nasty bruise on your face for a while and you’ve got quite the concussion as well as a cracked rib. But nothing some bed rest and a good cup of tea wouldn’t be able to fix, hm?” He tried to reassure, brushing a strand of hair out of your forehead.

"Your Grace, here is the medicine you asked for." A guard suddenly came rushing into the infirmary with a small satchel that he handed to Wriothesley before quickly leaving again after a courteous bow towards the man by your side.

You furrowed your brows in confusion at the display of submissiveness of the guard towards a fellow prisoner when you've been treated with nothing but disdain and… wait a minute.

Your Grace. The looks he got from the others during lunch and dinner time. The Duke. It's him?!

The memories suddenly came rushing back to you – how you had been slammed into the metal crates, how the toothless man had mentioned the Duke while threatening you and how his fist had then ultimately painfully kissed your face.

You didn't have all the puzzle pieces to connect everything into a clear image yet but it was enough to feel that there was an epiphany just mere millimeters out of your range.

You startled and sat up on the bed with wide-blown eyes once more as pain shot through you again from the abrupt movement. Pain so bad you thought you would have to throw up for a second.

"I-I… your Grace? The Duke? It's you! He meant you and– who? W-what?! I-I– he threatened me and I-I'm innocent. I don't belong here I–I'm innocent–" You incoherently stammered nonsense because your mouth couldn't match up with the speed at which your thoughts were racing.

Just who was he?

But before you got to properly ask that question a pair of soft lips gently connected with yours, rendering you speechless and cutting off the words that were spilling from your mouth relentlessly like water from a leaky faucet. He squeezed your hand a little tighter while the other gently found comfort on your cheek. Cradling it so carefully as if you're the finest piece of porcelain in the world and could break any minute.

The gentleness of his touch, the warmness of his lips, and the smell of Earl Grey on his breath made your body explode into a sea of fireworks. It wasn't until this moment that you realized you had developed feelings for Wriothesley that went beyond the casual acquaintance you met up with after work for food in the prison cafeteria. It was just that you had been too occupied and lost in your own thoughts about your predicament to realize it.

Your curiosity and cravings to see him more and more often weren’t just born from a place of loneliness. Your heart had craved for him all this time.

Your hands found comfort in his hair as you leaned into the kiss more, prying a low chuckle out of him and you felt him smirk against your lips.

"I know you are." He whispered against your lips when he separated from you again.

"What?" You asked in confusion, already forgetting what he was replying to.

"That you're innocent."

"N-no I don't mean just in this case… I didn't commit any crimes I was sent here despite being innocent I-" 

You didn't even realize you had started crying until he gently wiped a tear from your cheek with the pad of his thumb. 

"I know." He reiterated firmly.

You looked up in his face and his eyes were filled with nothing but sincerity. He must be the first person you ever encountered who didn't see the sentence of the Oratrice Mechanique d’Analyse Cardinale as infallible and unquestionable.

"How?" You quietly breathed out in disbelief.

"I knew it on the first day I saw you. My beliefs were just further confirmed when I talked to you for the first time. I've been working behind the scenes to get you out of here again ever since." He admitted, wiping another stray tear from your cheek.

That's why he was gone for days after your first meeting and suddenly arrived again behind you at the docks.

"You went above ground?" You rasped, making the question of who he actually is even bigger.

He nodded, taking your hands in his and placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

Is that why he also said you would find out who he is soon enough that one day? But you still didn't know… who actually is he?

"How are you allowed to go out? Who are you?"

"You still didn't figure it out?" He smirked. "I'm Wriothesley. Warden of the Fortress of Meropide." 

And at that moment everything fell like scales from your eyes.

His attire, the looks of other prisoners, the abundance of tickets to spend, randomly disappearing for days, the Duke… the Cryo Vision dangling from his shoulder despite not being allowed to carry any in here.

He was the one who saved you earlier.

He must've noticed your glance because he squeezed your hands a little tighter and reassured you: "They won't ever bother you again. I took care of it."

You didn't dare ask what he meant by that and simply nodded in acceptance.

"I can also tell you that things are going well. I pulled some strings and you might be out of here by the end of the week again with no criminal record to your name."

But what if you actually didn't want to leave anymore? At least not without him.

"Will I be able to see you again?"

A question that spilled out of your mouth before you could properly think about it. But the deafening silence that followed told you everything you needed to know. He rarely left the underground and was occupied down here most of the time so the possibility of you and him seeing each other again was low.

"Certainly." He replied after a while avoiding looking into your eyes.

A white lie. He wanted you to return to your old life again, out of the confines of this prison you had unjustifiably been thrown in. He didn't want to keep you here only for the selfish desires of his heart that he had unplannedly given to you along the way. Maybe he would find a way to be with you once you returned, maybe he didn't – But that didn't mean he couldn't indulge in what you had for the remaining time you were here with him.

And that's when he pulled you closer once more, one hand resting on your waist, gently massaging your skin through the fabric of your shirt while reuniting your lips as if it was the last thing he would ever get to taste.

And maybe, if it was what it took to see him again, you wouldn't mind actually committing a crime.

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about Genshin or my fics are always greatly appreciated and motivate me! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

[glasvera]

Bittersweet

Adam Warlock x Fem!Reader

Description: Recent attacks on your home town have slowed down business at the cafe you work at, but your day gets a lot more interesting when three of the Guardians of the Galaxy walk through the door.

Warnings: Rocket waving around a firearm, Star-Lord being an insufferable flirt... uh... other than that it's just cutesy shit.

A/N: Listen, I had to get around to the dreaded coffee shop trope at some point. Also, I mainly specify fem!reader because this may become a multi-part fic...? depending on how I'm feeling...? and a lot of the cutesy behaviors were written with a more feminine reader in mind.

EDIT: PART TWO IS OUT NOW!

Word Count: 2.8k

There were many things in your life that you could be thankful for: you had a job, you could afford rent (barely), and it hadn’t rained on your walk to work this morning. Though, that did mean you had to deal with the thunderous and grating sounds of construction during your commute.

Work had slowed down recently, but that wasn’t at all surprising. You were a barista at a fairly popular cafe downtown, and normally there would be a constant stream of customers in and out of the door. Unfortunately, when some idiot supervillain comes around town and decides to cause havoc and destruction up and down Main Street, fewer people feel safe enough to venture out for a cup of coffee. Really, the cafe shouldn’t be open at all. But the owner was a hardass, and rent and groceries don’t pay for themselves.

Still though, at least it was slow right now. Death and destruction sort of kills the mood to make lattes.

With your cheek smushed against your hand, you lean on the counter and drum your nails against the hard surface to the beat of the smooth jazz your boss always played, waiting impatiently for your shift to be over. Thanks to the lack of business, it was just you and one other employee right now, and you really weren’t in the mood to talk about the most recent episode of the current K-drama she’s been watching. Way too high energy for you right now.

Unfortunately, fate has decided to give you the big middle finger this afternoon when a boisterous trio walks through the door. You couldn’t even hear the chime of the door’s bell over the way two of them bickered back and forth. Snapped out of your mind’s pointless wandering, you stand up straight and take a good luck at your new clientele.

One of the ones arguing looked normal enough. Average height, messy dirty blonde hair… though he was definitely not wearing anything from this planet. It looked like some sort of strange space jumpsuit with a blue coat thrown over top of it. He’s looking down and practically shouting at a… bipedal raccoon? You blink your eyes before rubbing them, making sure you were seeing things clearly, but no. That was definitely a bipedal, talking raccoon wearing clothes and carrying a very large gun. Said gun seemed to be the root of their argument as the blonde guy gestures wildly at it.

“You can’t just bring that in here, Rocket! These are normal, human people! You’re gonna scare them!”

“Why should I give a flark? I ain’t leaving myself unarmed if any bad guys show up. You saw how torn up the streets were out there!” the raccoon replies, flinging his paws about even as he holds the gun. Your coworker has long ducked out and disappeared to the back.

You don’t know how to react. You don’t even know where to begin. Quite frankly, you were willing to ignore open carry laws if it meant you didn’t have to be on the receiving end of that. But all of the tension in your body, hell, everything else fades into the background when you see him.

A man, seemingly made of pure gold and with matching gorgeous golden locks, stands behind the other two with his hand on the back of his neck. A mantled red cloak rests on his shoulders, but otherwise it seems he’s completely shirtless, and you can see lines etched into his skin that contour his defined muscles perfectly. Well, perhaps you can ignore multiple rules today. Pupilless, milky white eyes meet yours, and he gives you an apologetic smile.

Perfection doesn’t exist, shouldn’t exist… So how is it standing before you as he approaches the counter?

“Please, forgive them,” he starts, and even his voice is perfectly soothing. “I asked my friend Pe--Star-Lord, if I could try this coffee I had heard so much about, and this was the only place open nearby.”

“O-Oh, it’s… it’s um, well… if I said it was okay, I’d be lying, but--”

His brows knit together with worry. “If we must take our leave, I understand. It seems as though your town has been through enough already. If only we had been able to minimize more of the damage.”

“No, no, it’s fine!” you respond almost frantically. The last thing you want is for this man to leave, even if the same can't be said for his companions. Once you process the rest of what he said though, you tilt your head to the side curiously and point to some of the wreckage being cleaned up outside the cafe window. “Wait… that was you guys?” you ask incredulously.

The other man halts his argument and shoves Rocket’s face down and out of the way, and the raccoon looks about ready to bite that hand off. “The Guardians of the Galaxy, at your service!” he proclaims triumphantly as Rocket exclaims muffled obscenities. “Or, at least, some of us. At least the best looking one is here!” he clarifies with his thumb pointed into his chest. Ah, the egotistical type. Wonderful.

“I’m so lucky,” you reply dryly as you roll your eyes and massage your temples. It does draw a snort from the golden man in front of you though, and that makes you smile slightly as your attention is brought back to him. His very presence is warm like sunshine and almost as blinding. So much so that you don't realize the other guy is walking up to join him at the counter until he's practically shoving his hand toward you to shake.

“Name's Star-Lord, though you can call me whatever you like, sweetheart,” he adds with a wink. You stare down blankly at his hand, unmoving, and you can practically feel the way he tenses up from the awkward silence that ensues. Being flirted with at work was nothing new for you, and you always hoped there was a special place in hell for those who decided to take their chances with the employees forced to receive their advances. “...Or, uh… yeah. Star-Lord is fine,” he backtracks as he withdraws his hand and brushes it on his pants.

“Right. Cool,” you respond nonchalantly, turning your attention down to the register's monitor. “So what can I get you?”

The golden man snickers behind his hand and Rocket grabs Star-Lord by the hem of his coat. “Sorry. We haven't gotten him fixed yet, so he has a hard time keeping it in his pants,” he jokes as he glares pointedly at the man who had handled him so roughly just moments ago. Okay, that gets a chuckle out of you.

“Hey, what-!?”

“Can it, flark-face. We're gonna wait outside while Goldie gets his fix,” the raccoon interrupts as he starts dragging him outside. “Don't take too long, ya hear?”

“The two of you can return to the ship if you do not wish to wait. I intend to take my time,” the man responds calmly, giving you a soft smile. Rocket grumbles something about not blaming them if he gets lost later, but he doesn't seem to protest as they exit the cafe with a chime of the door’s bell.

“I cannot apologize enough for my companions,” he starts, and he is a little confused when you titter at that. “You… seem to have handled them well, though. I admit I am impressed.”

He's impressed? It's such a simple little thing, just a comment in passing, but you feel a rush of warmth in your cheeks.

“It's nothing, really. Once you get past the shock of a talking raccoon, at least,” you joke.

“I wouldn't recommend calling him that to his face,” he warns with a wry smile.

“Noted,” you reply with a toothy grin of your own that he quickly mirrors. Gorgeous, and good at both conversation and easing the tension? You were done for. But, you still have a job to do, and he was here for a reason.

“So… never tried coffee, then?” you ask as you turn to idly check the different bean blends you had on hand.

“No,” he responds almost sheepishly. You giggle softly.

“It's nothing to be embarrassed about. It's not everyone's cup of tea.”

“But… but I thought it would be a cup of coffee,” he says, his voice sounding rather confused and a little worried. Oh. He's adorable.

“Oh! It's just… it's a phrase. Saying it's not everyone's cup of tea just means it's not to everyone's taste,” you explain as you turn to look at him over your shoulder.

He looks positively befuddled, bringing a hand to his forehead and brushing back his hair. “It is so much simpler to say it that way…” he muses quietly to himself. You still pick up on it and chuckle.

“Well, regardless, don't be surprised if you don't like it,” you continue as you grind a scoop of beans from your lightest roast. “A lot of people say it smells better than it tastes.”

It was slow enough, and he seemed quite interested in your explanation sans the confusing turn of phrase. You could take your time. Hell, you were ready to give him the cup for free as payback to your boss for the stupid smooth jazz playlist you'd practically memorized from the amount of times it looped. Your customer waited patiently, taking in every detail as his eyes followed your movements.

“Do you enjoy it?” he asks, breaking the temporary silence. When you turn towards him and blink curiously, he clarifies, “Coffee, I mean.”

The slow, steady drip of freshly brewing coffee begins, and you return your attention to him. “I do, yeah. Definitely an acquired taste, but nothing a little bit of cream and sugar can't fix.” You lean your elbows on the counter and tilt your head to the side. “A lot of people drink it for the caffeine more than anything.”

He blinks those white gold eyes at you, but nods in understanding after a moment. “Yes… caffeine I am familiar with. Some of the Guardians have taken a liking to energy drinks…” His voice trails off, as does his gaze, and you quirk a brow. He looks as though he’s seen terrible things and is suffering PTSD flashbacks right before your eyes… maybe you should move on from that.

“Well,” you start, bringing him back to reality as his head snaps towards you. You grab a cup, slide on its cardboard sleeve, and begin pouring the contents of the freshly brewed pot into it. Sliding it towards him, you watch him cradle it in his hands, seemingly intrigued by its warmth. “Ready to try it? Be careful though; it’s hot.”

“That should be no trouble,” he responds before bringing the cup to his lips. Your eyes widen with concern for a moment, but he clearly speaks truth as he takes a long sip without so much as a flinch. At least, he doesn’t flinch from the temperature of it. The flavor, on the other hand…

“It is…”

He tries so desperately to force a smile. His eyes narrow a bit, and the corners of his lips tug their way towards his cheeks, but it’s tight-lipped, and his nose crinkles in displeasure. You roll your lips between your teeth and try to subdue the laughter bubbling in your throat.

“Don’t force yourself. Here,” you say, holding your hand out to take his cup back. He does so instantly, dropping the facade and immediately regarding it with visible disgust. He looks akin to a cat that is about to smack something that has displeased them. Now you can’t help the chuckle from slipping out. “It can taste better, I promise.”

“I do not believe you,” he states plainly, but pauses when your fingertips brush against each other in the passing of the cup. It’s incidental, fleeting, but he seems to stare down at where your skin touched him, studying it. He blinks twice and meets your gaze. “...Though, I suppose I should relent to the resident expert on this vile beverage.”

“Vile?” you snort as you procure a spoon, cane sugar, and a small pitcher of half and half. “I suppose I can understand though. Even I don’t drink it black--er, without any additives,” you tell him, catching yourself before you confuse him with some other English terminology he clearly didn’t understand. Based on his reaction, you scoop a few spoonfuls of sugar, stirring it and pouring the half and half until the liquid takes on a lighter, cloudier hue. Blonde, you might call it. You slide it back over to him, and he squints at it. You laugh and, nodding at the cup, urge him to try it again.

“If this is some sort of trick…” he replies warily, taking the hot beverage into his hand for the second time. You give him a cheeky smile in return and rest your head on your wrist, waiting patiently for him to take another sip. When he realizes he’s not getting anything else out of you until he does, he sighs and brings it back to his lips. His trepidation is obvious; the liquid scarcely passes through the seam of his lips at first. But then it hits his tongue and his eyes widen in shock. After taking a proper sip then, he sets the cup back on the counter, staring at it as though it were the product of some sort of witchcraft.

“It is still bitter, and yet…” his words trail off as he stares at it before his eyes flicker to yours, full of wonder. “There is a complexity to it. Sweetness to combat the bitter. Cream to compliment the acidity…”

“Hmm, never seen someone turn into a coffee sommelier over the simple addition of cream and sugar,” you tease as he picks up the cup and continues drinking it. There is something fascinating about the utter innocence of it; rare is the occasion that one can witness a stranger’s firsts like this, and he brought an almost childlike wonder to the simple act of drinking coffee. It’s terribly adorable.

He sees the smile on your face and the tenderness in your expression, and he averts his gaze suddenly. The embarrassment doesn’t help his case in the slightest, instead pulling a lilting giggle from your lips.

“I’m glad you like it, really,” you add genuinely. “I would hate for your first impression to be one of just bitter, acrid bean water.”

“My first impression?” he inquires curiously. “I suppose such things matter. Though, truly, my first impression of you was that of a calm, patient, and gentle soul.”

That hadn’t been what you meant at all. You were referring to the cafe itself, not to its humble employee. His words leave your jaw slack and your eyes wide, and you turn away bashfully before covering your face with one hand. “O-oh, that’s--I meant--”

Now it’s his turn to chortle, and it’s a lovely, deep, rumbling sound. “I am aware. Still, I find it pertinent to speak of the truths I see in front of me,” he speaks, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he revels in the flush he feels radiating off of your very being. “Especially when they draw such wonderful expressions forth.”

He was teasing you. Here you were, moments ago, marveling at how naive he seemed to be. Now you truly felt the fool.

A golden hand places a few bills and coins onto the counter. “I look forward to the next time I visit this establishment. You can introduce me to even more of the seemingly vast world of coffee.”

You’re dumbfounded. Next time? And he wanted to see you? He’s moving to take his leave, giving you the softest yet somehow most knowing of smiles, and you feel yourself panic.

“Wait!” you call out suddenly.

He does. Though, there is a somewhat perplexed look about him at your sudden outburst.

“I… I didn’t catch your name. If you’re going to be a regular here, well… I like knowing my regulars’ names.”

That was a load of bullshit and you knew it, but that doesn’t mean he has to. You’d be damned if you didn’t know the name of the perfect, Midas touched man that would be haunting your dreams for weeks to come. At least he regards you with a solemn understanding, giving you a soft “ah” as though it made perfect sense to him.

“I am Adam Warlock. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Y/N,” he responds before, with an effortless flourish of his red cape, he finally exits the door with the gentle chime of its bell.

His voice… your name upon his lips sounded like heaven. Wait, how did he--!?

Oh. Right. Name tag, duh. 

Still though, you knew every shift from here on out would be painstakingly torturous as you waited for that beautiful golden man to walk back through the cafe’s door.

[yuri-is-online]

I'm curious about the first years' reaction to why can't I be your spouse.

I think it'd be hilarious

part one/part 2

A ha yes, hilarious. I am so sorry.

"Why couldn't I be your spouse?"

Ace is struck mute. The blush starts at the tips of his ears, spreads across his face, and down across his neck. Because you don't want him. That's the reason right? He's your best friend. You're his. That's your dynamic. It keeps you both safe from any complications or unnecessary feelings but god if you're just going to look up at him and bat your eyes trying to hold back tears at the thought of not being his? "Jeez, we're still in school you know? Ask again later." You won't get a chance to do that, Ace wants to be the one to ask. You deserve that much from him with how much he teases you, or so he says.

There are two ways I can see this question going with Deuce. He's oblivious to the nature of his own feelings: "Because you are meant to get married to someone you love?" He's overwhelmed with distress when you start to cry at his words, but he doesn't understand the source of the pain. Love is a heavy word, and sure he does love you, your best buds! But marriage is extremely serious and sure he's had dreams about you guys living together and stuff like that but he's sure that's just a friendship thing. Not that he ever dreams about doing that with Ace...

If he does know he's in love with you that little question will make Deuce start panicking because of how expensive weddings are. He will be very happy for you to be his spouse, just give him some time please <3

"Because you're not staying." Jack has accepted you are the one he's been waiting for, but he's never verbalized it until now. He's a bit disappointed if he's honest, not with who you are but with the circumstances under which you've met. He modeled his dreams of what his spouse would be like off of his parents and grandparents, he would love you and you would love him. You would be together forever and build a little life together. But you are from a different world and will have to go home some day, he doesn't get to keep you and he doesn't have the option of getting over you. His only option is to deny that he wants you as his spouse until his soul prevents him from doing it anymore, no matter how happy hearing you ask to be his make him feel.

Epel is happy to hear you say that, but it's a bittersweet happiness. Epel wants you to be saying that because you think he's cool. Because you think of him as a manly man who you can rely on to provide for you and keep you safe from all of the monsters you've faced so far. But he knows you pretty well at this point, he doesn't think that you rely on him because you think he's cool. Maybe that's a goods thing though, you've never been judgemental of who he is even if the words you use to describe him aren't the exact ones he wants just yet. That doesn't mean "spouse" isn't how he wants to describe you, and he's not shy of letting you know that. Just this once.

Sebek doesn't answer at first. He doesn't yell either, nor does there appear to be a gathering storm on his face. He looks despondent, not the look you would want on the face of someone when you start talking about getting married. "Because I have treated you in a truly abominable manner most unfitting of my rank based on a prejudiced view of your character." Anyone who looks at him can see that he's in love, that he has no objection to you being his spouse. But he can't have that, he's unworthy. Not that you wants you to take this personally, he is used to being inadequate. Just let him savor the happiness he felt from hearing you say you wanted to be his in the first place. It is more than he deserves for how cruel he has been to you.

[estcaligo]

Sebek and Romance

Some thoughts after this event update

I really liked this small detail in this part of the event - a "bittersweet" (or "sweet and sour" literally, from Japanese) moment between Sally and Jack. When she leaves her basket for Jack (which Trey refers to as a "bento"), we get to see the NRC guys reacting to that display of affection.

Surprisingly, Sebek's reaction was very calm and mature.

When Grim says "Bittersweet? I wanna try eating it!"

Sebek comments "Haha. Grim, that's something even you can't devour" in a calm manner.

In many fanworks, especially fics, Sebek is often depicted as inexperienced or nervous when it comes to matters of love. I enjoy this interpretation too because it can be funny sometimes. But understanding and reacting to romantic interactions is a learned skill (like any social skill), and we should remember a few points:

Sebek has loving parents who have three children. Considering the history of their relationship, I imagine they aren't shy about showing how much they love each other, including in front of their kids. I'm sure Mama Zigvolt has, at least once, explained to Sebek that this is because Mama and Papa love each other very much. So, Sebek is familiar with these kinds of feelings from his family.

Books, books, books.

Books are a big part of Sebek's life - for hobbies, studies, and bonding (for example, with his grandfather or the Prefect). He reads a lot on various topics, and naturally, throughout his life, he must have come across books with romantic themes. We can learn a lot from books, including social skills, even if it's only in a descriptive sense. So, Sebek has also learned about romance through literature.

Arts and culture.

Sebek is familiar with operas and musicals, as mentioned in the Endless Halloween event. We can assume he has some interest in them or, at least, participates in watching them with his family nowadays too (because he mentioned Zigvolts spend quite a lot of time together, like attending parks, so why not.)

We don't know what kind of plays he watches, but we can assume there are at least some romantic motifs, as is often the case in classic operas and theater. Watching actors - who often exaggerate emotions - could give him an understanding of how romantic situations unfold, and this exposure can likely have an impact on him. 

He also does thorough research into the arts when required, and some romantic themes might come up. For instance, if he knows Aurora, he must be familiar with her story, including her love interest and the kiss plot (though TWST may have twisted these stories, I presume core elements like the love story remain intact). So, Sebek can learn about romance thought art.

Lilia's supervision.

Sebek spends a lot of time with Lilia as his pupil, along with Silver, so naturally, he absorbs a lot of information about the world from his teacher - not just combat skills. And, well, Lilia's wisdom might be mischievous, if not dubious at times. In Ghost Bride event, it's noted that one of Sebek's visions of courting his future partner involves…well

which is kind of cute, if you ask me.

So, coming back to this event's reaction:

Seeing the display of affection between a loving couple is nothing new for Sebek, and he understands it surprisingly well.

At least when it comes to other people...

[atlaculture]

Favorite Foods: Zuko

Whereas everyone else's favorite foods required research and conjecture, Zuko's post mostly builds off what we see in the show. The foods Zuko likes are inspired by multiple real-life cultures. Links to recipes will be included.

Larou (臘肉) - Also called Lap Yuk in Cantonese, is cured pork belly aka bacon. According to the old Nickelodeon ATLA page, sizzle-crisps appear to be the Fire Nation's version of bacon bits. And, according to the official Avatar cookbook, sizzle-crisps are Zuko's favorite snack. He likes their long shelf-life and versatility, which are necessities for food meant to be stored on a ship. He not only eats them on their own as a snack, but uses them as seasoning for any dishes he considers under-seasoned and bland, which is most non-Fire Nation food. As such, he always carries around a bag of "sizzle crisps", like how some people always have hot sauce on their person. He likes his larou extra peppery.

Shaved Ice - A popular summer treat in many parts of the world, Asia included. In its most basic form, shaved ice is frozen water or milk, topped with a sweet syrup. Shaved ice brings back bittersweet memories for Zuko, reminding him of fun times spent at Ember Island with his family. Zuko's favorite flavors are guava and watermelon. He normally eats a pretty basic version in public, but will go all out with toppings when no one's watching.

Jook - Jook is the Cantonese name for rice porridge and the term Iroh uses when serving it to Zuko. Considering Zuko's tendency to push himself too hard, it's likely that the prince had a good number of bed-rest days during his banishment. As such, I think Iroh is quite used to preparing jook for his nephew. While Zuko initially didn't appreciate being "babied" (from his perspective), he comes to associate jook with his uncle's love for him. Rice porridge is eaten all over Asia.

Inihaw Na Bangus - Tagolog for "Grilled Milkfish", this is a popular fish dish in the Philippines. The milkfish is stuffed with flavorful ingredients, scored, and grilled over a fire. During the book 1 episode, "The Warriors of Kyoshi", Zuko is shown being served what looks to be this dish by his ship's cook. I feel that Zuko would have a love-hate relationship with this meal. He genuinely loves eating it, but it was also served to him very often, due to the availability of the fish while out at sea. Thus, Zuko went through cycles of eating it constantly, and then not even wanting to see it for months at a time. After the war, it became a meal he'd have about once a week.

Sea cucumber sashimi - As I mentioned in a previous post, "sea slug" is a more antiquated name for the sea cucumber. In ATLA, smoked sea slug is served as commoner's food, while parts of the sea slug are served raw to the wealthy. In real life, sea slug/cucumber is actually an expensive delicacy that's served raw in Japan and Korea. Considering Zuko's willingness to steal high quality food in Book 2, I always felt that he probably has a rather refined palette. "Sea slug" sashimi was probably the dish he missed most from the FN palace. He liked dipping it in soy sauce mixed with chili paste.

Tea - I'm sure we all saw this coming. Under Iroh's influence, Zuko comes to appreciate tea. While not the connoisseur that his uncle is, he does enjoy winding down with a mellow jasmine tea at the end of the day.

Also, I think we can all agree that Zuko would never eat a turtle-duck. ^_^

[skygemspeaks]

spideytorch angst fic where peter has to stop being spider-man for one reason or another (possibly after aunt may passes and he falls into a depressive episode that causes him to lose his job so he can't afford to do the crime-fighting thing because he can barely afford to feed himself, let alone buy the ingredients for his web fluid and suit repairs and stuff)

He doesn't really expect people to care that much - there are already so many heroes in new york and he mostly dealt with street-level criminals anyways, and the bugle is always going on about what a menace he is so they'll probably be happy for him to take a break for a while.

So fast forward a year later, peter's starting to get back on his feet, and he manages to get a job working for reed. He's a little wary at first, worried that they'll figure out who he is, but this isn't an opportunity he's willing to give up

He gets along really well with reed, and every once in a while he crosses paths with the other members of the fantastic four as well

Sue and Ben are friendly enough with him, but Johnny seems to hate him for some reason. Like, this goes way beyond whatever petty grudges johnny may have had with peter parker when they were both teenagers, and peter can't figure it out

It goes on for weeks before it all comes to a head when peter stays behind late at work one day, after everyone else has already left.

Johnny comes round to find peter, and awkwardly apologises to him for the way that he's been treating him

Peter is obviously pissed, but this is his best friend after all, so he gives him a chance to explain himself.

Johnny looks ashamed of himself as he haltingly explains that none of it was ever peter's fault. It's just that...peter reminds him so much of spider-man (which makes sense after all, johnny knows that peter and spidey were friends, so of course they'd share some mannerisms), and it hurt johnny to see the way reed and the others were just kind of accepting peter into the fold because it felt like peter was replacing his best friend. Peter doesn't know what to say as johnny keeps rambling about how the last time he ever saw spider-man, the two of them had had a fight and had left each other on bad terms. Johnny is crying now because he doesn't know where his best friend is, doesn't even know if he's still alive, and it hurts him to think that maybe spider-man is still out there, has stopped the hero lifestyle and is just living a life that doesn't have room for johnny in it, but that's still so much better than the alternative that he's not out there at all. That maybe he had been done in by some villain who got in a lucky shot and no one ever found out because no one knew who it was beneath the mask.

Peter is hugging johnny now, trying to comfort him and figure out how to come clean, because there's no way he can keep hiding his identity now, right?

Then johnny sniffs, and says that the worst part is that he never even got to tell spider-man that he loved him. He kept putting it off, because they were still young and they had all the time in the world and johnny had to make sure he got it right, and now he might never get to say it at all.

Peter starts crying then, because oh, he had always thought his feelings were unrequited, and it's so bittersweet in this moment to know that johnny feels the same way, but also to know just how much pain he had put his best friend through this past year.

"I'm sorry," says peter, whispering apologies over and over and over again into johnny's hair. "I'm sorry for staying away for so long, firefly. I didn't mean to hurt you so much"

Johnny pulls away sharply to stare at peter in disbelief when he processes what he had said. He freezes for ten long seconds, convinced that he must be dreaming or something. Then, he pulls peter into a desperate kiss. There will be time for explanations later (he knows that peter will be getting an earful from sue when she finds out). For now, he just needs to hold his best friend in his arms a little longer

[bittersw33t-lotus]

Romeo and Juliet

Ghosting series pt. 2

Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem! Reader

Cw:mentions of fighting, blood, pregnancy (this is gonna be on the whole series so…), hospital visit, reader is mentioned to listen to rock music :)

A/N thank yall for the love and support, I love yall (platonically of course)😘

Edited? Yes

part 1 here

part 3 here

It’s been a few weeks since you’ve been living with Stacy and her husband, Jared.

It’s been good so far, they’ve been kind to you, you’ve been helping around as much as you could, they’ve been doing a lot to make sure you were okay and willing to help you with anything.

Jared has been fairly nice and generous. Today you had your first check up at the hospital and ultrasound appointment. Jared offered to take you to your appointment, which you accepted since your car battery decided to take a crap right as you returned home from the store the other day, so now you have to wait for the battery to arrive at the mechanics before you get take it over to get fixed. This leaves you with no independent transportation for at least a week. Luckily Stacy had been able to take you to and from places but today she wasn’t able to take you to your check up due to having to work late. Thankfully, Jared offered to take you to the doctors, to which you gratefully accepted.

On the way there you started some small talk with him. “How long have you and Stacy been together?” You ask him as you watch the trees pass by along with building around the area as he enters the highway.

Jared looks at you for a quick second before focusing back on the road. “Been together for about four years now. Two years since we’ve been married.” He says with a small smile, you’ve seen all the things they’ve done together, so many adventures, dinners, vacations, you would’ve thought they’ve been together for more than that if he hadn’t said anything.

You realize that Stacy seemed to move on to marry him pretty quickly, which wasn’t a bad thing, as long as you know that Jared has the best intentions for your sister. It was the same with her last boyfriend, taking any chance she got to up and move in with him at any chance she got.

But you aren’t worried, Jared seems to be a sweetheart, you've seen it over the few weeks you’ve spent here. He wasalways engaged and doing anything around the house that he could do. He and Stacy worked like a team. You also saw the way he looked at Stacy like she held all the stars in the sky. You wouldn’t admit it out loud but, you were jealous.

“We’ve been best friends since high school. Of course, she ended up with her boyfriend before I could confess my feelings to her. long story short he tried to have her cut contact with me but with a lot of persuasion she ended up leaving him and we got together in collage shortly after I beat the shit out of him." he chuckled seeming to be a bit ashamed at admitting it, but he wasn’t sorry though.

That took you by surprise, you never expected him be a guy to use violence just by looking at him. He seemed more like a lover than a fighter. Reguardless, you’re glad he stepped in, in any way, just to get that prick away from your sister. "Well, I'm glad Stacy has you. I remember seeing that guy before she moved out and he never gave me a good feeling." You say as the car gets off the freeway on the road that leads stright to the hospital. You can see the street changing to one of a more fancy and modernized road with trees every few feet, fancy black fencing, and lighting.

Jared smiled at you, noticing that your compliment took him by surprise. "Thanks." he says and focusing on driving, a small pause of silence between you two before he speaks up. "If you don't mind me asking, your sister told me a bit about the history between you two and how life was growing up but, how did you meet that guy?" He asks, you feel yourself start to think back on the memories between you and Simon, it was bittersweet and made the strings in your heart tug. "You don't have to tell me; I respect your privacy." Jared is quick to say noticing your face drop a bit.

You shook your head and wave your hand in a unbothered manner. “No, no. It’s alright. I don’t mind.” You say as you look at ahead of you towards the road. “I met him in my freshman year of high school, Simon was a sophomore. I first saw him when he got into a fight, but I didn’t talk to him until a week later when I got detention one day.”

✯Flashback✯

You were making your way to your fourth period, walking through the schools' hallway past others students walking trying to get to their next class. As you're about to turn the corner down the hall, you hear a sudden grunt before a loud metallic bang echos through the hall. A few feet away from you, you see everyone looking in one certain area from the origin of the sound hearing continuous grunts and chatter form other students looking intrigued, some shocked and others unbothered with what they saw. You make your way towards the crowd getting a sense of what could be happening which was soon confirmed to be true when you manage to look between the gaps of the crowd to see two guys duke it out. The guy pinned against the locker getting multiple shots of fists to the face you recognized him as Todd Hanes. The renowned senior asshole in school. He always picked and tormented other kids younger, or others who seemed weaker than him.

The other guy punching him had his back turned to you, he had short blonde hair and wore a grey t-shirt that really defined his muscles well. You can see he worked out a lot with the way his bicep flexed as he pinned Todd against the locker. You moved closer to get more of a clear view of the fight and watched as the blonde guy raised his fist and socked Todd square in the face, repeating the action over and over again as your peers around you watched the fight. Todd tried to fight back but to no avail with the fists he was received to his face repeatedly. The students around cheered or reacted verbally to the fight as you heard "ooo's' and a few other words being said as they all watched Todd practically get beaten to a pulp which was much deserved. Todd looked pathetic trying to fight back and ended up shielding his face ultimately giving up on fight back.

it wasn't long before a teacher stepped in and tried to pull the blonde off Todd, whos' face was now battered with his own blood, nosebleed and busted lip dripping blood down his shirt. it took two teachers to pull the blonde off Todd and once they did Todd slid down the locker to the floor barely conscious and seemingly dazed and confused as everyone stared in shock. You finally got to see the blonde guy's face and immediately, you felt your stomach flutter. He was downright breath taking, his brown eyes look like there was a raging fire in him, he heaved heavy breaths as he stared down Todd, whos' face was all swollen, battered and bloody. Meanwhile he only had a bloody nose.

As weird as it was but looking at him like that really awoken something in you and had your brain go fuzzy with just the image of him. As he was pulled away to what you assume was to the principal's office you watch as the teachers helped walk Todd to the nurse's office supporting him up and walking him over.

After that, you didn’t see the blonde guy. However when you asked your friend about him, they told you his name was Simon, she knew since she had a class with him. But it wasn’t long until you saw him again.

You had gotten Lunch detention for two days, you had gotten the note during you second period after you showed up to your first period late for the hundreth time. You sighed in annoyance and crumble up the paper dreading for your upcoming punishment.

When finalllylunch came by you made you way to the library where lunch detention was being held, where you had to sit there in silence for 15 minutes. Walking through the doors you look around and see how surprisingly full it was, all of the round tables had a few students sitting in every single one of them, all except for the one table in the far corner back. Where you spot Simon sitting at, your heart did a back flip at the sight of his blonde hair that peaked through the hood of his sweater. Seeing that he was the only table with less students, and it would be reasonable to sit at his table instead of the other full ones, you began contemplate on wether you wanted to sit at his table or the table next to him where a group of boys sat, you hardly judged anyone but these guys just by the looks of them seemed to be ones to torment girls just for fun, so the easier option was to sit with Simon.

It was nerve wracking walking into the library seeing so many students in the room, you expected there to be only five but there was almost twenty in here, you feared one little noise could cause everyone to turn and stare at you if you so much as breathed the wrong way.

As you walked and approached the table where Simon sat at you began to notice and take in his appearance, his blonde hair was slicked back, a bandage on his nose, from the fight with Todd, and a bruise, it was odd, it looked to be a fresh bruise on his jawline. It had been over a week since the fight, he wouldn’t have a bruise or to the least bit, just have faint bruising. Did he get into another fight?

Your thought were short circuited when his honey brown eyes move up to meet yours, he stared at you through his blonde lashes. You’re surprised and quickly avert your gaze towards the floor ahead of you before you finally reach the table and pull out the chair adjacent where he sat, sitting down trying your best to make the least amount of noise possible. You can feel his eyes linger on you until he moves his arm out to pick up his pencil and focus on the papers on the table that you assumed was his class work.

You try your best to calm your heart that’s currently beating rapidly, it’s absurd how much he’s had an affect on you just by his appearance and a singular glance he gave you. No way you’re this down bad, you thought.

You quietly settle into your seat and set you bag down before opening it up and pulling out your own homework while you steal a few glances at him, an continue to do so as you “work on your homework,” unaware of how obvious you’re being.

At the end of detention the teacher dismisses everyone as you pack away your papers and pencil back into your binder, slipping the binder in your bag your pencil slipped out and falls to the floor rolling a feet away from you. Before you lean down to pick it up, a hand lowers down and grabs the object, you look up and meet Simon’s eyes as he leans back up and extends his arm out to you with your pencil in hand.

You’re dumbfounded for a second, staring at him like a deer in headlights. You manage to mutter out a ‘Thanks’ before reaching your hand out to grab it from him, trying your best to not show how shakey your hand is. As you grab your pencil you try you best to avoid touching his fingers with yours, but your index finger barely grazed his own before you pulled away and slipped your pencil back in your bag.

“Is there something on my face?” He spoke to you, you couldn’t tell if he was genuinely asking you a question or threatening you right now. You’re taken back by how deep and rough his voice sounded, its wasn’t very deep yet but it sounded like his voice was in the process of getting there.

“Sorry…” You say with a puzzled look on your face.

Simon continued to look at you seeming unfazed. “You kept staring at me, did you need something or you just have a staring problem?” He asks, his voice unchanging from his unfazed tone, along with the blank look in his eyes.

You quickly shake your head and try to think of something, then you remembered how you noticed on his backpack he had set on the table. You saw he had a Misfits keychain hanging on the zipper of his bag so you quickly use that as an excuse. “I noticed you had a misfits keychain on your backpack and thougt it was cool-” You blurt out, you words coming out so fast as you grew nervous, Simon almost couldn’t understand what you said at first.

You see him raise a brow at your response as he looks at his bag that was still on the table, then looks back at you and takes in your appearance, his eyes glazing over your body from head to toe. “You listen to the Misfits?” He asks seeming unconvinced by your words.

You figured he may not believe you- possibly with your outfit and appearance, however he shouldn’t be one to judge. All he was wearing was a plain black sweater and jeans, didn’t give much of a hint that he listened to rock. As for you, you did listen to rock and metal music. You recently got into it thanks to your friend. So lucky for you, you knew some songs and information about the Misfits. You nod your head, “Yeah, I’ve been getting into rock music lately and Misfits were one of the first bands I listened to. They’re pretty good.” You say as a small smile makes its way to your face hoping that he’ll believe you were only looking at his backpack and definitely not checking him out.

Simon seems like he wanted to say more but shook his head but the teach had dismissed detention as the fifteen minutes were up. “Alright then.” He says before grabbing his bag, slinging the strap over his shoulder and walking out the library to wherever it was he was going.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding and take notice of how hot your face felt. Crap, you were blushing. He definitely knows you were checking him out!

After that, you suddenly saw him everywhere, you noticed him in your English class— apparently he’s been in your class this whole time, you just never knew. You saw in the halls between passing periods, and of course you saw him again on your second and last day of lunch detention.

There were less kids in the library for your second to last day of detention—which meant a couple of tables were empty. When you first entered you expected to see Simon already sitting there, but you noticed the lack of his presence, you assumed his days in detention were over which made you a bit disappointed. But at least you still got to see him in English class though. As you took your seat at the same table you pull out your essay you were working on for English class, you were almost done with it, just needed to add any finishing touches. Your essay was about the recent book your class read, Romeo and Juliet. The teacher had the class take a theme or idea of what you thought about what the book would be about and how it could relate to readers universally.

As you worked, you had your head looking down and hyper focused on your paper, too busy to see movement around you and a certain figure approaching your table. It wasn't until you heard a thud against the table that made you jump slightly and look up to see Simon at your table setting his bag down on the table before sitting down across from you, you look around and take notice that there were still a couple of empty tables left for him to sit at but he still opted to sit at the table where you were at, why?

Not wanting to overthink and get ahead of yourself, you figured it was because he's been in detention longer than you that table this was his designated table that he preferred to sit at.

He looks at you as he sits in his chair, you look back down at your paper and tried your best to refocus on your essay but much to your dismay Simon was clouding your mind as your mind went into overdrive with him around, and suddenly you began to struggle to write anything.

As you tried to get the cogs in your head to start functioning again, unbeknownst to you, Simon was looking at you. He was watching how focused you— your brows furrowed and your lips pursed. He takes notice of your paper and from what he can see from his view, he can see the pictures printed on the paper next to the long paragraphs typed out beside the picture. He recognizes the paper to be the latest assignment in English class, one you and Simon have together. He hasn’t really started it yet, he only knows the assignment has something to do with writing about Shakespeare’s ‘Romeo and Juliet’. He wondered if he should ask for your help—since he saw how you had two pages of your essay written. Maybe you could give him an idea of how the story is since he hardly bothered to read the book and get the assignment done, like with all his other classes.

He debates if he should say something to you— ultimately says 'fuck it' and leans in his forearms leaning on the table, whispering to you with ease as to not get caught. "You doin' the assignment for English?" He asks you in a whisper, careful not to get caught talking but the librarian was currently too caught up on whatever work she was getting done on her computer and the soft music she played was loud enough to blanket over his whisper.

you look up at him again and stare at him for a second processing what he's said to you. "Oh yeah— I'm just adding some finishing touches before I submit it." You tell him watching his eyes flicker to you and your paper.

"You think you can help me out a bit on mine? Been having some trouble with it. " He asks you as you set down your pencil down and focus on talking with Simon.

You look at him a bit taken back on the fact he wants your help. This means you get to talk to him more, perfect! "Yeah, would you be okay if we did this once detentions over? I'm not trying to get caught and have to stay here for longer." You tell him as you sneak a glance at the teacher seeing she's still occupied with her computer.

Simon nods and leans back in his chair. "Yeah, sounds good." he tells you. You try your best to fight back the smile that threatened to break through before you nod and look back at your paper completely not bothered to work with your thoughts clouded with just Simon.

Once detention was over, Simon gets up while you place your items back into your bag. Once you put everything away you see Simon standing there waiting for you, you zip up your bag slinging it over your shoulder and begin to walk towards the exit of the library, Simon following right beside you. “Were did you want to go?” You ask him as you both walk down the hall.

Simon thinks for a moment before pointing to the hallway to the right. “We can head down to the hallway of the band room.” He said as you look down the hall before nodding your head as you both turn right and make your way through the hallway. You figured the band hall would be best to study, there’s hardly anyone in there minus the teachers but some kids go there to be alone, away from everyone else. You assume that’s why Simon wanted to go there. It’s quite and isolated.

Once you reached the hallway, you both spot a little lounging area at the end of the hall where the elevator was to go upstairs. Walking up to the table you set your things down and take your seats next to each other but Simon and you still kept a good distance from one another. You bring out your papers from your bag, Simon doing the same.

Once you both settle in your seats, you look at Simon. “So what exactly did you need help with?” You ask him.

“All of it.” He states nonchalantly. “I haven’t really read the story much, just skimmed through a few chapters so I have a slight idea of what is going on but I don’t know what to write about it.” He tells you and keeps his eyes on the paper as if he was avoiding your gaze in case he saw the dissatisfied look etched on your face. He’s a bit worried you’ll think just he’s asking for your help simply to just copy off you.

“Oh well— you’ll basically just choose a theme in the book and write about how you interpret the idea yourself and how it would make readers feel about it as a ‘universal thought.’ ” You explain to him. “So from the little information you’ve gathered from the book, what do you think one of the themes are?” You ask him.

Simon sighed and thought long and hard about it. “From what I knows is that the two are in a forbidden love story, something about family drama between their families. After the death of the two lovers, both families came together and let their resentment for each other go.”

You smile and nod at him, “That’s pretty much what the entire story is about. So write about that.” You tell him as you motion to his paper.

Simon nods and writes down a couple of notes to keep in mind. While he was writing he asked you, “What did you write about?”

You look at him and then at your papers. “It might sound a little silly…” You mumble as you avoid his gaze.

Simon raises a brow. “How so? Either way, I’m not one to judge considering I didn’t bother to read the book all the way.”

You glance at him as you fidget with your pencil. “Well, I focused on reincarnation and how cruel the world can be sometimes. The reincarnation part, I was worried the Mr. Jones would tell me not to include it but he told me to keep it, said it would be interesting since some people do believe in reincarnation.” You explain as you see that Simon seems to have his full attention on you, much to your surprise.

“So I wrote about how love isn’t always a fairytale love story, life can be cruel and i believe we’ve lived many lives before our current one, our souls are old and our bodies are a temporary thing. Romeo and Juliet never got their happy ending due to some petty drama between their families that ultimately caused them their happiness and eventually their lives. But I like to think that, reincarnation is a thing, their lifetime may not have been kind to them but maybe their next will be. They’ll find each other again and get to live the life they deserve.” You explain and as you do, Simon listens to every word, he watches you as you explain watching you ramble on about your thoughts of the matter, he watches the way your eyes dart between looking at him and then around the room, you lips moving with every word.

Unbeknownst to you and Simon, he was falling in love with you.

"I believe soulmates are a thing, Romeo and Juliet are soulmates and soulmates always find their way back to each other in every lifetime, romantic or not everyone has a soulmate." You explain as you glance over your papers.

"How do you know you've found your soulmate?" Simon asks confused on that part.

You then turn to Simon as you both stare at each other for a period of time. “You ever meet someone; and within seconds of your first interaction, you feel an immediate connection with them— like being around them just feels… right?” You ask him.

That question made something switch in Simon in his mind as he looks at you. “Yeah… I think I know what you’re talking about.”

✯Flashback end✯

You arrive at the parking lot of the hospital as you finish telling Jared how you met Simon, of course a shortened version of your story, just the main things. “But yeah, after that day we started hanging out more and more and eventually we began dating in my freshman year of collage.” You tell him as you Finish up your story, Jared turns the car into the parking lot, quickly finding an empty spot.

“He seems different compared to you. I guess opposites really do attract.” Jared chuckled as he sets the car in park and turns off the car.

“You could say that, I guess.” You say, considering your current situation with Simon.

You step out the car and Jared follows behind you as you both enter the hospital building. “I’ll be in here for a bit. You don’t have to stay, you can do your own thing and I’ll let you know when my appointment is over.” You tell him as you close the car door, Jared doing the same.

He shakes his head as you both make your way to the building. “It’s fine. I don’t mind, besides I figured you could use as much support as you need.” Jared says giving you a small smile.

You return one back and nod accepting his offer before you turn to the assistant at the desk. “Hi, I’m here to see Dr. Raven for my check up.” You tell the woman as she nods looking up on her computer to check.

“Prenatal check up for y/n l/n?” She asks you as you confirm it with a nod. “Alright, Dr. Raven is currently still with her patient but she should be done in the next ten minutes. Feel free to sit in the waiting room and she’ll be with you shortly.” The assistant smiled at you as you nod back with a smile.

“Thank you.” You mutter as you head over to the lounging area and sit in a chair seeing other woman in the room, some by themselves, some with a relative or another male which you assume may be their partner but you’re not quick to assume. You notice Jared looking at few pamphlets displayed on the wall. He picks up a couple of pamphlets before sitting down in the chair next to you.

He begins to read one, the title read ‘Fetal Development’, another pamphlet was about how pregnancy affects the woman during and after pregnancy, and the last one for expecting fathers. You’re a little confused on why he’s reading, possibly to pass the time but there are magazines laid out on the little table next to you that he could read. He notices your confusion and points to the pamphlet before speaking. “It’s good to know this stuff, ya know be prepared,” He said as he skimmed over the information.

You him and nod your head. “That’s good.” You reply back as you examine the pictures on the pamphlet.

You can tell there’s something else he wants to say as he takes a deep breath. “Uh… Stacy and I are planing to have kids soon in the near future, kinda thought this would be a good opportunity to read up on this for when the time comes.” He says as you notice his smile becomes wider at the thought of it.

You look at Jared and raise your brow in surprise. “Really? That’s great.” You say as Jared nods continues to smile.

“Thanks. We decided to wait till we settled down, and now that we’re getting there we decided it was time.” He says.

You didn’t think your sister would ever want any kids, you took her as the type to be childfree and live her life being single and on her own. But now that she has Jared by her side, she’s really changed, in a good way of course. “That’s amazing to hear, looks like my baby will have a cousin soon.” You say as you feel your bag vibrate and a chime sounds, opening your bag you fish out your phone and read the screen seeing there’s a message from Stacy.

Stacy: How’s the check up going?

You: Still in the waiting room, just got here but it’s shouldn’t be too long.

You send the message and revive a reply a few seconds later.

Stacy: Oh, well let me know how my little niece or nephew is doing, make sure you follow whatever your doctors says to keep you and the baby healthy. Also when you come back I have a surprise for you ;)

You look at the message a bit confused but smile, a bit excited for the surprise.

“Yn.” A voice calls out to you, you look up to see a nurse with a clip board in hand scanning around the waiting room looking for you.

You stand up letting yourself be known, “Right here.” You say with a smile.

The nurse looks at you and offers you a kind smile. “Perfect, Dr. Raven is ready to see you.” She says.

You nod your head and look at Jared, “You okay with waiting out here?” You ask him as he looks up at you and nodded.

“yeah, I’ll be fine,” Jared says and gives you a reassuring smile and nod. “Good luck.”

You smile at him before making your way towards the nurse feeling anxious and antsy for some reason. You didn’t know why you felt like this but then again, you’ll be seeing your baby for the first time at least through a screen until the big day you deliver the baby.

As you walk through the halls with the nurse leading you through. You spot a couple in the distance, the woman with a noticeable bump as he husband smiles at her as the walk into a room with his hand around her waist leading her into the room. You feel a emptiness overcome you as you suddenly feel your body grow cold, if you didn’t feel alone before, you definitely felt it right now. You imagine what could’ve been if Simon wanted to stick around, how these visits would be less lonely and filled with more joy then the melancholy feeling you were experiencing right now. He would’ve been able to see your growing baby, see your bump grow bigger over the month before you finally get to meet them and live the rest of your lives as parents.

Thought of your memory with Simon, talking to him about Romeo and Juliet you found it amusing with how your life had played out, almost like the story, life didn’t play out the way you wanted with Simon. Life really can be cruel.

꧁————————꧂

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