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blueteller · 2 days ago

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Hello!:D Before I ask like—maybe one of the most persistent questions endlessly bugging my mind, I just wanna say I love your posts sm and I love you for it (>v<)♡

I have noticed that there are side characters that stand out the most compared to other side characters, even if they have limited screentime.

And one of those characters is none other than OgCale.

I can even go as far to say that he's one of the most popular characters ever in the fandom, his popularity can surpass some of the main cast's despite having very little screentime and it's actually pretty fascinating. In other transmigration/reincarnation stories, people don't usually care about the original owner of the body the MC currently possesses—and I get why. But Og!Cale? Heck, he's widely loved by many fans!

And so my question is—

Why is Og!Cale so popular and loved in the TCF fandom? There are other characters out there who may have far more intriguing backgrounds and personalities than him, and yet *gestures to the fandom* several fans absolutely adore him (myself included, hehe).

First of all, thank you for your kind words! I'm very happy you enjoy my posts 💖

As for the matter of OG Cale… Why is he so popular and beloved in particular, despite being one of many great side characters in the series? Excellent question! I actually had to sit down and think about it for a little while. I came to the conclusion that it boils down to three major factors.

Number one, the build-up.

OG Cale was a mystery since the beginning. When Cale transmigrated, the question of what kind of person he really was kept coming up. There were obvious contradictions, such as despite being a troublemaker he only went after gangsters and thugs. He allegedly had a bad relationship with his family, and yet they all cared about him very much. He was meant to be an alcoholic trash who threw and broke things when drunk, and yet his alcohol tolerance was incredible and he always missed when he threw bottles, never actually hurting people.

Basically, OG Cale was suspicious. He was hella sus since the start, and that built intrigue around his character. That isn't the only reason why people love him, of course. Many fans got spoiled about him straight away, before reading the whole story, so that can't be all there is to it. But that's definitely where the interest began.

Number two, the subverted expectations.

Don't forget, OG Cale isn't the only "Cale" who's beloved by the fandom. When we got first introduced to our MC, there was this unspoken first impression that he was a typical, what TV Tropes calls, "Audience Surrogate". You know, the type of protagonist who mostly has no personality, solely for the purpose of being a self-insert for the audience. Not to be confused with "Mary Sue " – that is a type of character who definitely has a defined personality. Although both protagonist types serve the same purpose, the latter has more to do with how the overall story is written, and how everybody acts like they're the center of the universe, and how things only happen around them, or directly because of them.

Cale, Kim Rok Soo, was in "danger" of becoming either type of MC at the beginning of the story. Because of how he was trying to sell us the idea of how totally normal of a guy he is, and how he just wants to be left alone in peace, that's all, he swears. I've seen both Audience Surrogate MCs and Mary Sues who claim the same thing at the start of the story yet become the focal point of the plot regardless, and yet fail to show any kind of character development or growth whatsoever – because of the author's bad writing.

In Cale's case, it was revealed as far from the truth as you can get. He quickly subverts those issues before they can become real concerns. Not only does he have a defined, flawed personality and showcases growth, but so do many other characters. And the writing behind Cale's character is so effective, that real people love him about as much as the fictional characters who keep him company in the story.

What does it have to do with OG Cale?

Well. Do you remember when you said, "people don't usually care about the original owner of the body the MC currently possesses, and I get why"? Let's explore that "why" for a little bit.

Where Cale could be expected to be an empty Audience Surrogate character, if TCF was poorly written that is… OG Cale could have ended up as a Blank Slate.

That is, a one-dimensional character whose only role in the story was not to be missed. Which is what happens to most "transmigration victims" in isekai. (The fact that OG Cale is the actual transmigrator in this case instead of our MC makes all of this more fascinating.) In some cases, the "original" was objectively a terrible person; be it a petty crook, or a serious villain, or someone with a rotten personality who used to abuse their privilege, letting the righteous protagonist take over and make things better for everyone. Sometimes they're completely innocent, a tragic victim who passed away prematurely, and the newcomer isn't stealing their life as much as simply slipping into a no-longer-occupied identity, while the original souls reaches a peaceful afterlife. Heck, sometimes the "original" expresses blatant consent before their passing, absolving the protagonist of all guilt regarding their transmigration.

You see, OG Cale could have easily been one of those characters. Written specifically to make create an empty spot for the MC to take over and become the starting point in their journey. And that's exactly the first impression we get! "A generic villain who gets beaten up by the protagonist". No friends, no loose ends, seemingly a worthless noble who does not contribute to society. Whose family only "puts up with him" because they're too nice to throw him out. Someone who kept such distance with everyone in his life, no one even noticed the "original" was gone.

…And yet. He is NOT a Blank Slate at all. Not in the slightest.

To quickly skip over all the reasons why OG Cale was so important to the plot: he was never a generic villain, nor an innocent, tragic victim. Instead, he is THE REASON for the plot. The how and the why of the current timeline. And he's not even dead! He is doing just fine in Kim Rok Soo's body, living a good life. Filling the empty spot left by Cale. I don't think I've seen this kind of plot twist in ANY other isekai! It's really amazing! This is exactly THE best subversion of this trope that I have ever seen. And I love it.

The third and final reason? OG Cale embodies another trope called "The Greatest Story Never Told".

Basically, the kind of life OG Cale lead when he was young – sacrificing his reputation for his step family without anyone knowing, and the deal that he made as he was at the brink of death… Those choices makes him someone who is not only a heroic figure in his own right; he's an unappreciated heroic figure. And that? That is EXTREMELY compelling to any audience.

People like heroes. People also like angst. Hero with angst has double the appeal (which is why so many broody heroes and anti-heroes exist). A heroic figure who has a tragic backstory and never gets the full credit for their sacrifice? People eat that up. I eat that up like candy myself! One of the many reasons why I enjoy time travel stories so much.

Moreover, OG Cale is in fact the only currently alive hero in TCF timeline who has never and will never get that heroic recognition – unless Cale reveals the truth to the Henituse family, which has long become extremely unlikely. Of course it makes OG Cale ripe for all sorts of fan scenarios, be it an AU where he and Cale are twins, where OG Cale goes back in time to save the world himself without Cale's transmigration, where he and Cale are the same person with combined angst… OG Cale has enough complexities to BE a protagonist in his own right. Fans recognize that, subconsciously or not. It makes him great character to write fanfics about.

I'm sure there are many more reasons why fans love to love OG Cale, naturally (his personality and his looks for example). But I think those 3 are the main ones:

Despite his shallow public persona and terrible reputation, he was built up properly as a mysterious character with great depth, and it stayed a mystery for a really long time in the story, which made the fanbase's interest in him grow exponentially.

Just like Cale, he was a clever and plot-relevant subversion of expectations, and an excellent take of what could potentially happen to the "original" that got swapped with a transmigrating protagonist.

He is a tragic heroic figure who's never got credit for his sacrifices, which makes him very compelling to explore in fanfictions.

I hope this helps! Let me hear other reasons why you guys personally love OG Cale 🙂

#tcf #trash of the count's family #lcf #lout of count's family #original cale henituse #og cale #og cale henituse #tcf analysis #tcf character analysis #tcf meta #q&a #replies

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starlightseraph · 3 days ago

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time for my second doctor who series/season review that no one asked for!

1: pretty good. instantly loved belinda and her dynamic with the doctor, and i continued to be invested in mrs flood. i loved the goofy looking robots and spaceships. the real hero of the episode was the “polish, polish” robot. 8/10

2: very good. lux was silly and a great character. the concept was cool and i thoroughly enjoyed it. 8/10

3: excellent. i never thought they’d do a sequel to midnight, and i was a little apprehensive at the big reveal because i didn’t want the episode to derail and turn out badly. but it didn’t. i just kept getting better. so fucking awesome. belinda was still going pretty strong here too. 10/10

4: nice. i’m glad we got more of ruby, and conrad’s hatefulness was very well done. the episode was obviously only a shallow dive into the podcaster bro/manosphere/right populist pipeline, but i didn’t expect more. i wish they’d let ruby be angrier, but i’m glad they let kate be properly and rightfully vengeful. 7/10

5: such a doctor who episode. the gods of stories, a giant space spider, the doctor connecting with humans. i loved it. it just epitomised the vibe of doctor who on the whole. i have a tiny very semantic quibble with pacing, but it’s hardly relevant. 9/10

6: nope. fuck this one so much. it really, really could’ve been a great episode. it had potential. it just crashed and burned so hard by trying to stand on flimsy principles and totally a undeveloped analysis. this is where they really lost me on belinda. she’d been less of a foil for the doctor for a bit, but i just assumed it was because she was getting to know him and was starting to trust him more, maybe out of necessity. but they just completely trashed her central character here, it was sad. dugga doo was the only thing that came out well. thank you murray gold for this episode’s only redeeming moment. thanks rtd and juno dawson for absolutely nothing. 1/10

7: this one had a lot of really good elements, and it made me hopeful for the finale. i think the pacing was off, but the basic framework and plot points were good. i was excited to see rogue, appalled to see conrad, and very baffled by the whole bone-stuff thing. the rani seemed to be building up well, but i was confused as to why their ultimate goal was bringing back omega. like, ok? sure? but i feel like if you’ve spent two series creating suspense around the rani’s comeback, there were better things to base her plot on. i still liked both the ranis and thought their plan and susan were going to be intertwined in some way. 6/10

8: absolutely bonkers. holy shit. so much insane stuff happened?? firstly, why did they sideline belinda? it was so annoying. and her ending… don’t get me wrong, one of my biggest dreams is to be a mother and i think having kids or being family-oriented is a completely valid path. but she literally did not show a single crumb of interest in anything domestic throughout the season. she was clearly focused on her job, she was living with a bunch of other people, hardly eating, barely getting through her day, and single with no partner, no expressed interest in a relationship, and no interest in children. her settling down with poppy would’ve made so much more sense if she’d interacted with a child even once throughout the series and had a soft spot for them or something. but this was just out of the blue, clearly not written for her, and plain weird. idk why they couldn’t have still tied it in with ruby’s story by connecting it with adoption or found family in some way. why they used poppy from space babies, i have no clue. anita was apparently only pregnant because the actress was, but i was still kinda shocked lol. they really need to give rose something to do. really. the entire episode was just really anticlimactic, at least where the climax was meant to be. the rani and mrs flood and omega were just kinda passively removed from the narrative. it all felt a bit pointless. but then. the sudden regeneration. and that. holy shit. i love billie and rose but i’m incredibly skeptical about what they’re gonna do here. we’ll see ig. 4/10

overall this series was an 8/10 for me. the first 5 episodes were strong, and the good ones were really really good. the 6th one was fucking awful. the last 2 were just weak. i didn’t hate them, but the last one in particular was both weak and insane.

#doctor who #15th doctor #ncuti gatwa #belinda chandra #varada sethu #ruby sunday #millie gibson #the rani #dr who #dw #dw spoilers #susan foreman #16th doctor #billie piper #rose tyler #david tennant

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sp3akfromtheart · 1 year ago

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everytime i think i be chilling but then i remember how the dragon prince was my favourite show in the world and THEY ABSOLUTELY RUINED IT

#art talkz #WHY DID THEY DO TAHT?#WHYYYYYY????#i was so sad when I read through the moon #ahy did they make rayla leave #why build up a whole relationship of two characters #just to rip it away from me #then do a STUPID TIME SKIP #I DONY CARE ABKUT AAVROAS I HATE BIS STUOID PURPLE ASS #IM ACTUALLY STILL NKG OVER THIS #cartoon runners stop destroying all my favourite shows challenge #it was like voltron all over again #and tdp was supposed to be my escape from voltron #WHATEVER. RANT OVER. FILLED WITH FURY

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catnippackets · 22 days ago

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yet another reason why queer romance in media that is very subtle or more queer-coding than actual explicit rep is so much more compelling than the wealth of straight stories that are out there is bc I think a lot of romance writers forget that you have to like. show not tell. and imply things. and if you hustle things along and put two characters together for the sake of it instead of really working to build their relationship and show how well they work with each other it's not really going to be as interesting to people. and for some reason, a staggering amount of people do not know how to write romance properly so you get a very bland forced dynamic that either feels like an afterthought (he's a boy and she's a girl, hey they could be together because that's what happens!) or the only thing that matters about their characters (see her? she's the Love Interest. that is all she's there for)

however if you're being censored and you literally can't make your characters say "I love you" or kiss or maybe even hold hands you're going to have to come up with more creative ways to tell your audience that they're in love and that usually results in the most poetic beautiful stuff you've ever seen that's SO much more interesting than two characters who make eye contact and go into the slow-mo rose petals scene that's basically screaming at you "hey look at these two. they're in love. you're supposed to be invested in their relationship now. do you get it?" eye contact held for slightly too long in an emotional scene is more compelling. a hand very lightly touching their back is WAY more compelling.

and might I add this is not even impossible to achieve with uncensored straight romances at all like Pride & Prejudice is wildly popular for this exact reason. how many times have I seen people going insane over the hand flex scene. they didn't even kiss in that movie unless you count the extended ending. and everyone loves it. because it's done RIGHT.

tldr; romance is hard to write and you have to put in the effort if you want people to care about your ship. now go forth and imply something

QUICK EDIT TO ADD ALSO when things are more subtle that gives people more space to interpret the dynamic as whatever they want. something might be subtle because that's all they're allowed to show, but something might be subtle because that literally what it's supposed to be. as an aroace person I personally see a LOT of queerplatonic vibes from more subtly played relationships and it's so incredibly exciting and heartwarming for me. and that's a whole new realm of relationship that I think should also be given more attention

#ramblings #dusted off this draft from a while ago after seeing that other post

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oatmealaddiction · 1 year ago

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Okay but the weirdest thing about the whole "Brotherhood is better you should skip 03" discourse that's become commonplace now, it sort of forgets the world Brotherhood came out in and why you should watch the original Fullmetal Alchemist. When Brotherhood came out, the original Fullmetal Alchemist was one of the most beloved and most watched animes of all time. Brotherhood assumes you the audience have already seen it because of course you have, everyone has seen it, so it skips important information and speeds the story up because it doesn't want to bore you with things you already know. Have you ever wondered "hey why does the first episode of Brotherhood kind of suck, and why am I being introduced to like 50 new characters, and why are they acting like I know what the hell an alchemist is?" It's because Brotherhood thinks you've seen 03.

The first 7 or so episodes of Brotherhood constitute dozens of chapters in the manga, and the first 25 or so episodes of the original Fullmetal Alchemist. The Nina Tucker episode in Brotherhood, in FMA 03 takes up nearly three episodes. Yoki gets a backstory in 03 and it's genuinely one of the best episodes and taken directly from the manga and Brotherhood glosses over it because: duh, you've already seen it. And so if you skip the original you miss out on dozens of really great character building episodes like Ed and Al meeting Hughes for the first time and getting to spend a whole episode helping him free a train from terrorists, or Ed and Roy having a duel that expands on the relationship they have, or episodes where the brothers just help out random people in towns before the major story gets going.

The original also paces itself quite a bit better than Brotherhood and is more in line with the mangas storytelling. In the manga we don't find out about The Gate until nearly two dozen chapters in, and the same goes for the original anime. Like, that's a twist reveal in those stories, and it's weird that the most watched series is the one where they tell you all about The Gate in the first two episodes because they assume you've already seen the original show.

What's more, people don't know that Hiromu Arakawa helped write for the anime while she was still in the middle of writing the manga, and as a result was inspired to write scenes in Brotherhood that the anime did first. That scene of Edward getting impaled by a falling beam? Directly inspired by a similar scene in the original anime. There's a lot of little instances of that and they're great when you can recognize parallels and things in Brotherhood that are direct references to the original anime, but people don't notice any of that anymore. Because the original anime is just an automatic skip these days, and it's a bummer because people don't realize what a giant it was back before Brotherhood was released. They treat it as *bad,* not realizing it was one of the most beloved anime of its time and the problems people take issue with have a lot more to do with personal taste than any kind of actual flaw in the writing. Brotherhood was never meant to dethrone it, and the original anime was always supposed to be part of the viewing experience which is why those first few episodes of Brotherhood are so fast paced. So like, please stop telling people Fullmetal Alchemist 2003 is a skip, or it's bad, or you don't need it because Brotherhood is better. Regardless if you think Brotherhood is better or not, the original wrote Brotherhood's check. It was huge, it was beloved, and Brotherhood is *banking* on the knowledge you've seen all of it and loved it. And trust me when I say there is so much to love about the original series. It's still my favorite branch of the FMA franchise, and it's worth your time, I promise you.

#Fma 03 #FMA #fullmetal alchemist #Fma:b #fullmetal alchimist brotherhood #fma brotherhood #Legitimately though the original is so fucking good #The music alone makes it worth the watch #Also the art direction is better fight me #mild spoilers

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kianamaiart · 2 months ago

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Growing an audience takes time and getting people to care about your characters can often take more time. I've done a bunch of OCs in the past but none of them really got traction until my IDWTBAMG OCs. I steadily grew my social media following for well over a decade. A lot of checking socialblade, looking at analytics and generally drawing/posting everyday. I have a whole doc available about this type of stuff.

There's no particular shortcut other than happening to go viral or getting really lucky. But I will say "branding" or carving out a niche for yourself over time helps. Although I've been in a number of different fandoms over the past 15 years I've been on the internet, the kind of art I do has been pretty consistent. Lots of shorter, light hearted comics or vignettes highlighting relationships (be them romantic, platonic or familial) and people started enjoying my work for my writing style more so than just what fandom I was creating for.

Finding your community, creating stuff that aligns with those communities and engaging with others is huge. A lot of my work prior to IDWTBAMG centered queer people (specifically sapphics), Black and Asian folks and stylistically is very anime/modern western cartoon inspired. It's what became known for in fandom spaces and what people were following me for. So when I finally did make IDWTBAMG, a concept with anime influences, in a western cartoon style, with two Black, sapphic leads, it just fit right into what I was already doing. Like if you grew your following from doing cute, slice of life stuff, then suddenly dropped a psychological horror comic, chances are it's not gonna grab a large part of your audience. Might bring some new folks in, but you're ultimately kinda starting over and pivoting (that's why rebrands are hard to pull off). This may not be the best example but hopefully you get what I mean. Appeal to the communities you've fostered!

I hate using corporate speak for art but if you ARE trying sell your ideas to people and get your work out there, you do kinda have to learn how to market yourself and your art to some extent. Get in the head of a marketing agent or a brand manager. What's popular right now? How can I use that to my advantage? What times should I be posting my artwork to get the most eyes on this? Who is my target audience and how do I effectively appeal to them while staying true to my own work? Stuff like that. Genuinely, studying how social media managers operate as well as just observing how businesses market their products helped me a lot. "Okay I'm making this animatic, but it won't come out for the next four months. How do I keep people interested and hyped for that amount of time leading up to the pilot's release? I'll keep doing comics here and there so people connect with the characters by the time the pilot comes out. Once I get he VAs recorded, I'll make posts to get people hyped for the casting. I'll upload snippets and behind the scenes stuff to give people a taste of what's to come. I'll release during Black History Month since this is a Black led project with Black characters. I'll have a specific upload time at peak hours to get a good amount of people watching for the premiere and to give the pilot a good running start." This was all stuff I was taking into consideration and planning for.

Then generally, I think people connect to characters more than anything. You can have a cool concept and fun world building ideas but if your execution is bad and your characters aren't compelling, what's the point, y'know? IDWTBAMG isn't a particularly novel concept imo, but I think its strengths lie in the characters and how they interact. The concept is just a tool to give the character dynamics and relationships legs to stand on. So few of the comics I've done with these guys have to do with their lore, it's just small interactions of the girls in class, at a convenience store or just talking to each other in a void. Even though it's simple, that's often the kind of thing people connect with.

Then there's just the technical aspect of having appealing drawing! Getting better at your craft, if nothing else, is good for catching eyes and helping with your execution of your project. While it's not always necessary, I think it helps a lot. I know there's a lot of people who follow me just because they personally like my art style and character design.

Not sure how helpful this actually is LOL. It really does just kinda take time. We all have to start somewhere. I was a "small artist" too at one point. It was years of trial and error, mental breakdowns, finding my own artistic voice and posting artwork almost daily for like 5 years straight. I do think that's why IDWTBAMG ended up being so special to me. It really does feel like a culmination of everything I've learned and all that hard work up to this point and people can kinda feel that.

#ask mai anything

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amatariki · 1 month ago

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24/7, 365 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ i'm on a knee, i just need a "yes"

(AUTREMENT) — when jake takes you out on a date after his lacrosse game, you don't expect him to get down on one knee.

the muse: non-idol!sim jaeyun x fem!reader; established relationship wc: 1.66k warnings: kissing, skinship, fluff, not proofread, plot twist, jake loves calling you 'angel', reader calls jake an 'idiot' lovingly

whispers: not very proud of this one...i feel like my writing is lacking nowadays. but it's my first try at trying to get jake's character down so. idk if the plot twist is a plot twist but the plot is probably not as straightforward as it seems ig.

reblog and i'll kiss you <3

"She really is your good luck charm, huh?" Jay asks teasingly, slapping Jake's back.

It wasn't a mystery as to why Jake always managed to score twice as many goals than usual whenever you were there at his lacrosse games. Watching you standing in the sidelines, cheering for him in his jersey. It gave him an energy boost that he couldn't get even if he chugged 10 Red Bulls.

"We're going to miss you next year, hyung," Jungwon adds, taking off his gear.

"Yeah," Sunoo agrees. "We're gonna lose three of our best players with you, Jay hyung, and Sunghoon hyung going off to college after summer."

"You guys are still gonna be playing for the lacrosse team there with Heeseung hyung, aren't you?" Riki asks, his eyes shining with admiration at being able to play for a big college.

"Yep," Jake says, running his hands through his hair. He opens his mouth to speak but he quickly smiles instead after seeing you run into the locker room.

You cage him in a warm bear hug, trying your best to engulf Jake's larger frame with your small body. "You did amazing!" You beam at him.

Jake's face and ears turn red at the compliment, his hand rubbing circles on the small of your back. "Thank you," he says, leaning down to kiss your forehead before pulling back and just gazing at you lovingly.

Jake clears his throat after hearing Sunghoon snicker at how gone he looks for you. "Why don't we get out of here, angel?" he asks, starting to lead you out of the locker room gently with a hand on your waist after slinging his equipment bag over his shoulder.

You nod in response. "Bye, guys," you yell over your shoulder to the others. "You guys did great as well!"

You sat in the car, slushie in hand as you stare out the window.

You and Jake had spent the evening watching a movie at the theater before heading down to the bowling center to play a game against each other.

Now you two were in the car, driving to a place that only Jake knows where.

"Where are we even going?" You ask, curiosity piqued.

You turn your head towards Jake, watching the way his curls fell on to his forehead, how the streetlamps lit up his face with a glow, how his eyes concentrated on the road, and the way his veiny hands steered the car with graceful movements.

"Somewhere special, angel," he hums in response. He doesn't take his hands off the wheel, but s soft smile forms on his plump lips.

"Where?"

"You'll see."

You huff, slumping into the car seat with a pout, hoping that it'll coax an answer out of Jake. But all it does is make him chuckle.

After around 10-15 minutes, the car comes to a halt and Jake turns off the engine. He quickly hops out of the car, practically running to your side to open the door for you before you can do it.

"Thanks, Jakey," you stay, stepping out.

"Always, angel," he says, smiling.

He takes your hand in his and gently squeezes it as he shuts the car door and locks it. He leads you up a quiet hill. The hill is quiet and dark, illuminated by the moon and the stars. There's a soft breeze blowing, causing the grass to rustle as you two sit down at the top.

You feel your breath get knocked out of you, the view in front of you breathtaking. You can see the whole city from here in its entire magnificence: buildings climbing up to reach the sky; lights illuminating the place; trees in the far distance. It feels like Jake picked a glittering kingdom out of a fairytale and put it in front of you to admire.

"It's so pretty," you gasp.

"Like you, angel," he whispers. "That's why I wanted to bring you here."

"I love it," you say, a smile forming on your face as you turn to look at Jake. Your Jake who adores you so much. Your Jake who you feel extremely lucky to have in your life.

He leans in, giving you time to pull away as if you two hadn't been dating for the past three years and were about to kiss for the first time. Finally, his lips crash against yours. It's soft, gentle, and promising. Yet, as his lips pressed harder, it felt bittersweet, like a farewell.

As Jake pulled away, you could see it in his eyes. The same bittersweet feeling his lips had given you, painted in his brown eyes.

You frown.

"What's up, Jakey?" you ask, gently as worry clouds your eyes.

He sighs shakily, running a hand through his hair. He turns to sit facing you and you do the same.

"I can't be with you anymore," he says.

You go into shock as your mind registers his words. Your heart drops to your stomach. "W-What?"

"No! I mean I can be with you, but—I didn't mean it like that." Jake starts to panic, seeing the hurt in your eyes. "Can...Can you stand up for a second?" He asks, standing up.

You nod, allowing Jake to pull you up on to your feet. "What's going on, Jake?" You frown, folding your arms together as you demand an explanation.

"I have to go to Decelis Uni for college because the college here rejected me. So I have to move there."

"You mean you can't stay home?" You ask, your heart slowing down in relief, but still filled with tension.

"Yeah, that's what I meant." Jake looks down, chuckling. His cheeks are tinged pink with embarassment at having fumbled this. "But that doesn't mean I want to leave you."

Your eyes widen as you see Jake go down on one knee. "Jake, what are you doing?"

"Trust me, angel," he says, cutting you off curtly, although there was only warmth in his voice. He pulls out a black velvet box but doesn't open it.

"Since I'm moving away, I want to ask you something. I know it's only for a year until you graduate and come to Decelis too and we're together again. But I still want to ask you this."

"Y/n L/n," he starts, flipping the box open to reveal a gorgeous diamond ring. It's not huge and extravagant or tiny and plain, it's in between and absolutely stunning.

"Jake, I know you're 18, but I'm still 17," you gasp. "I can't marry you."

"I know," Jake laughs. "I'm not gonna ask you to marry me. I mean, I am, but not today."

You chuckle at that, blood rushing to your cheeks at the thought of Jake actually proposing to you one day.

"But I am asking whether you'll remain my loyal girlfriend the same way I'll remain your loyal boyfriend despite all the distance between us," he continues. "I know people say long-distance never works, but I want to make it work. For you. For us."

Jake pauses, trying to keep his voice steady. "I'm willing to put in all the work and effort I can to make it work if you say yes," he declares, brutally honest. "Will you stay my girlfriend even though I'm moving away?"

You can see by the way his eyes look at you filled with devotion and the way he pours his heart into his words that he means every single word he just said.

You know that if you break up with Jake right now just because he was moving away for college, it would be the biggest and stupidest mistake anyone could ever make in the history of humanity.

"Yes," you breathe out. It's a simple word. Soft and quiet; but it holds so many emotions.

"Did you just say 'yes'?" Jake asks, eyes brightening. He can't bring himself to believe that you actually said 'yes'.

"Yes, Jakey." You nod vigorously, laughter blooming from your throat.

Your words are everything Jake wants, he quickly takes your left hand, slipping on the promise ring on to your ring finger with careful movements before pressing a reverent kiss to your knuckles.

He gets back up on his feet with a sigh of relief and a bright, adorable smile on his face. "My knee was starting to hurt," he remarks playfully.

"Oh, shut up," you pout, wrapping your arms around his waist as Jake pulls you into a tight, warm hug.

"I'll stay your girlfriend no matter how far you are from me," you mumble, allowing yourself to relax in his arms. "You could be on the other side of the Earth and I'd still love you with all my heart."

"Really?" he asks, slightly pulling away to look down at you while flashing you a boyish grin. "'Cause I'd still do the same for you."

"You're such an idiot," you scoff to try and hide the effect his grin has on you, your heart racing.

"I'm your idiot," he states proudly.

Before you can reply to him, Jake's lips crashes against yours, his face tilting as your fingers weaved their way into his black hair. The way your lips fit against each others was almost like a key fitting perfectly in a lock, like they were made for each other and no one else.

Your last kiss tasted bittersweet, but this one tasted like cotton candy weaved out of promises of forever; sweet and exquisite as reality melted on each other's tongue.

Jake buries his head in the crook of your neck the moment you pull away so that you don't see his blushing face. His arms trail to the small of your back as he plays with the hem of his jersey on you.

"Y'know, I don't know what I would've done if you said 'no' to me today," Jake admits, voice muffled. "You're so amazing. I want to be with you forever."

"I love you so much, angel."

taglist @chrrific @lezleeferguson-120

------ᝰ‧₊ written by ©amatariki 2025

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3njoythesil3nce · 11 months ago

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Plot holes/crappy writing in TUA 4

• Five, the guy who spent 45 years in an apocalypse and went back specifically to save his siblings from the same fate, ended up betraying Diego with such lightness and unjustified hatred and almost left the whole family because he got rejected by Lila?

• Five and Lila together just because Five needed a love interest when up until a season ago they had a sibling dynamic and Lila was madly in love with Diego

• In the end they decide to sacrifice themselves to destroy the Marigold but then they all reincarnate as Marigold flowers? and there is literally half a bottle of Marigold left intact in Diego's van?

•why in the hell was Lila shooting laser from her eyes? where did that power come from?

• Luther regains his powers and gets his monkey body back even though it has NOTHING to do with his powers since he morphed into that after Reggie saved his life by injecting him with a serum in season one

• in the end, all the past villains are shown together in the correct timeline when they all should be from completely different times

• Five feels like a COMPLETELY different person, the decharacterization was unreal.

• Klaus' new powers are shown for a second and then for the rest of the season he's basically reduced to a prostitute, ruining all the anticipation of seeing his true strength that has been building up since season 2 and nullifying all of his self improvement

• why was Jennifer in a fucking squid?

• in the end how are the children alive if their parents never existed?

• Ben and Jennifer were completely USELESS. and they were supposed to be key characters of the season

• Abigail's storyline made NO sense at all, she was supposed to be one of the most important characters in the show since the foreshadowing of her presence starts in season 1 and then she is reduced to two scenes in which she basically goes "fuck you Reggie for destroying the world, now I'll destroy it too as punishment" ???

• when Five meets the other Fives in the diner he doesn't show any symptoms of Paradox Psychosis

• Ray and Sloane are cut out of the show with two lines without explaining anything

• Diego dies without saying goodbye to his children

• Jean and Gene barely have a role in the whole season

• Allison sacrificed everything and everyone for Claire and their relationship is reduced to 3 scenes?

#tua4 #tua #tua season 4 #tua s4 #tua season four #the umbrella academy #umbrella acedmy #five hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #lila pitts #diego hargreeves #luther hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #ben hargreeves

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antivancathedral · 5 months ago

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Building off this post by @karissaeb

What an incredible catch. I've only played through the ending once so far and I think I was so busy taking everything in that I didn't notice, but wow. Spite using his own voice to tell Solas to fuck off. "You hurt Rook. You lie."

How does Spite see Solas? In lines with other characters who refer to Solas as Pride, Solas says that he prefers Wisdom. I talk a bit here about Spite vs Determination and even use Pride vs Wisdom as an example, but...we can all agree this point that Solas isn't wise, right? Clever, sure. Wise? A wise man would know when to call it quits. When yearning for the past becomes too detrimental to the future to be worth doing. When Solas calls him "Determination" and Spite corrects him, it serves several purposes.

1) Spite tells Rook that there are three kinds of people: Family, enemies, and contracts. Solas is an enemy. Friends or family are allowed to call him Determination if they feel so inclined (Rowan, Isabella) but Solas is not in this category, as Karissa mentions, and Spite wants (spitefully!) to let him know that.

2) It reminds Solas that what happens to you shapes you. The way you respond to those events shapes you. Determination? Pah. Spite is something sharper, something more vindicating, something angrier. Wisdom? Pah. Pride is manipulation towards your own goals instead of guidance. Pride is insistence in your own views with disregard to all others. Solas is changed and warped by trauma. Spite's correction is a reminder and a demand. Acknowledge what changed me, and what changed you.

And the delivery of this line! It's not sharp and abrupt, not curt like you'd expect of someone who doesn't want anything to do with this guy. "Spite," he says, and I almost felt like I could hear him smile and turn up his nose there, like he was flashing his teeth. He sounds pleased with his own identity and threatening all at once, the way Lucanis sounds when he says "The Crows send their regards."

And when Solas offers his help, that mask slips. Now those bared teeth sound gritted. Now there is an echo of something dark underneath his voice, and it's his voice.

This is the only time in the whole game that other people get to hear Spite's voice, aside from the time in Rook's mind prison and Emmrich's unique ability.

Referencing yet another of my posts, Spite speaks in slow chunks of sentences because he has to force his way to the surface of their body. He has to wrest control of Lucanis's mouth from him, and even after they reconcile and his speech improves a bit, it's clearly a struggle.

Spite is not a weak spirit, but speech through a mouth with two souls at the helm is difficult. You know how you become stronger when overcome with rage or panic? Perhaps it was easier because the Veil is thin here, with all the magic bullshit happening, but I can't help thinking it's a combination of the two. Solas has offered to rip Spite away from Lucanis, who I maintain that Spite loves, and he's hurt Spite's favorite person. Rook, who opens doors for him, who accompanied him steadfastly to Lucanis's mental inner sanctum. Rook, the only person to listen to him, to offer him a rope that would lead to his freedom. Rook, who is one of the very few people Spite can claim a relationship of any kind with.

Why should he trust Solas with Lucanis when Solas hurt Rook? When Lucanis and Spite where there when Solas sealed Rook away? When Rook vanished before their eyes? Can you imagine the thick, palpable, choking fury that would've overcome him, hearing that audacious offer?

This to me is the most blatant and tangible way Spite has shown his love throughout the game. The raw emotion in this single action is so, so potent. Fuck you, you lie. Know that all this love, and all the righteous anger that accompanies it, is mine.

#SPITE AND LUCANIS LOVE EACH OTHER AND THEY BOTH LOVE ROOK #i am dragged off stage coughing up blood and yelling #spite dellamorte #spite dragon age #lucanis dellamorte #dragon age rook #rookanis #veilguard spoilers #datv #dragon age veilguard #veilguard #cathedralposting #spite x rook #spite x rook x lucanis

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hanniesbrat · 7 months ago

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the boy is mine | k.mg

pet play w mingyu

pairing: kim mingyu x reader, reader’s best friend is yuqi! ((g)i-dle) also cheol lol

wc: 5.6k (can you believe i cut it down?)

genre: strangers -> fucking, smut, little cracky at some parts

synopsis: when one of your best friends (who also happens to be a frat bro), seungcheol, invites you to his halloween party, you hesitantly accept. you were never really the party type… but one guy, one of his new friends to be exact, might single handedly change that.

!other kinktober fics!

a/n: ......heyyyyy... no one hate me. i know im almost a whole month late ): prepping for the svt concert took more time than i anticipated, i live in america so... yeah all that happened, work got in the way, i had a lot of yap days with my wife @jenoslutie which has been so nice!! <3 and i JUST (literally today) got back from visiting my bestie @goblynnrockz for their birthday :p BUT in between all that, i managed to finish this bitch. (pun intended) ALL OF THAT BEING SAID, i really hope you guys enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it. and if it seems like its eluding to there being a potential relationship between mc and gyu, well... maybe there will be in the future ;p

(P.S. you must picture long, wavy haired mingyu in this :3 more like the pic on the right. i just put the lolla pic bc it fits the vibe you CANNOT argue w that lol okay imma stop yapping now. ENJOY LUVLIES!!!!)

you weren’t the party type, but when one of your best friends, seungcheol, invited you to his frat’s halloween party with a nearly quivering bottom lip, you couldn’t say no.

“you have to let me bring whoever i want as my plus one.” you deadpanned while crossing your arms.

“so you’ll go?!” he nearly squealed.

you sighed before nodding with an annoyed, “yes.”

“fuck yeah!” he yelled before swooping you up in a big hug. you couldn’t help the laughter that erupted from your chest.

you loved when cheol got all giddy. it was such a silly contrast to his wide, strong build, and that’s always been so enduring yet hilarious to you. you didn’t think anyone else like him existed in real life.

until you met him.

“remind me again why you are dragging me to a party?” your best friend, yuqi, chuckled out from the passenger’s seat of your car.

you took the last right before reaching the house. “cheol asked nicely and… i’ve been needing an excuse to wear these boots,” you smiled, looking for a parking spot.

yuqi silently pointed to a spot on the street, and as you parked, she went on. “i just can’t help but wonder why cheol wanted you to go so bad like… he knows you’re not a partier.”

“he wants me to get out of my shell more.” you shrugged, getting out of the car.

“well you’re definitely out of your shell, fucking look at you. a full latex outfit and tits out? girl…” yuqi gawked at you for a moment.

dressing as blackcat was far out of your costume comfort zone. normally you went the horror route. billy the puppet, jennifer check (in the prom dress with the contacts, blood and all), freddy krueger, etc. so, wearing a latex set that left nothing to the imagination except for any ink you may have on your skin was out of character, but you wanted to spice it up this year.

“i think the little mask helps be feel a bit hidden,” you giggled seen as it’s a thin black eye mask, not hiding who is under it at all. yuqi jokingly scoffed and you then took the attention off yourself. “look at you, catwoman. you look devious with that whip,” you cooed, then took her hand in yours and gave her a spin on the sidewalk.

“oh stop it,” she blushed. “let’s get inside before it starts getting too crazy.”

you two walked in practically attached at the hip. you scanned the front room for cheol, yuqi doing the same. “ah! there he is,” she pointed toward the kitchen.

you looked over, immediately making eye contact with him. he waved you guys over to stand with him and some frat bro you didn’t recognize.

“y/n!” he greeted you with a bear hug, unfazed by your tits practically spilling from your top. “and yuqi! hey long time no see!” he said sweetly, giving her a side hug.

“hi! it’s good to see you, cheol,” she giggled.

“are you gonna introduce us?” you motioned to his friend beside him and smiled.

the friend smiled and reached a hand out, “hey, i’m chan! nice to meet you both.” after shaking both of your hands, a warm smile across his face, he turned around to finish concocting a drink for himself.

“you know we have a spare room. if you guys want, you can have some drinks! chan makes a mean lemon drop.” cheol offered you both.

yuqi got a devilish smile on her face, “don’t mind if i do, fred. one lemon drop, please, daphne!” she giggled leaning backwards on the counter next to chan, watching what he was doing over her shoulder. she faced forward after a moment and motioned her head toward you. “what about you miss latex?” she smirked giving you a once over. the girl wasn’t even drinking yet and she was already getting flirty. typical. (<3)

“don’t even let her answer that,” seungcheol quickly intervened. “make blackcat a drink, please. the pretty lady deserves it,” he grinned, wrapping an arm around you.

“well thank you, cheolie… but deserve it? for what?” you asked cutely, looking up at him.

“putting up with my bitchass. thank you for coming tonight. i’m glad you did,” he stated sweetly, giving you a kiss atop your head. you just leaned into him, silently telling him “you’re welcome” and “me too”.

“what’s up?” you look over at chan who’s finishing your drink up, and he’s got his phone between his ear and shoulder. “oh shit okay! we’ll be right out!” he hung up, sliding the phone in his pocket, then turned around handing you your drink. “pretty lady,” he smiled. “cheol lets go. that was vernon, they’re outside.” he said, patting cheol on the shoulder, making his way out of the kitchen hurriedly.

“okay! you two wait right here, i’ll be back.” seungcheol requested, then ran after chan.

“oh god,” you walked forward to the counter and turned so your back was leaning on it with yuqi. you two looked out from the kitchen, into the crowd of people that had seemingly gotten significantly larger since you’d arrived minutes ago. “they’ve all gotta be members of the mystery inc huh…” you trailed off.

“i wonder what poor guy they got to be scooby,” yuqi empathized.

“i bet it’s soonyoung.”

“be so fucking for real, y/n. he’s a fucking tiger every year,” yuqi said pointedly. she was right.

just then, the room got significantly more quiet meaning- oh those boys and their group entrances…

it was never anything elaborate, but they did have to make their presence known. cheol almost always walking in first as the rest of the boys followed.

you and yuqi made your way out of the kitchen to the living room, disregarding cheol’s words from earlier. you two managed to push toward the front of the swarm of people that were gathered near the door. shouts then could be heard from all over, praising the commitment of all the boys. first was cheol as fred, then chan as daphne walking alongside wonwoo as velma, and last but not least vernon as shaggy with… not soonyoung as scooby. “who the fuck is that?” you nearly drooled leaning over into yuqi’s ear.

“wonwoo?” she suggested.

“no, dumbass, obviously i know wonwoo… who’s scooby?” your voice dropping a cool octave or two in curiosity.

“i don’t know but… fuck is he fine,” she said bluntly.

you both had your eyes locked on him until yuqi’s gaze redirected to wonwoo… her main interest right now and always. “if you’ll excuse me,” she hummed, grazing a hand across your shoulder and handing you her whip as she strolled forward toward the tall boy wearing thicker framed glasses than normal.

you made your way back to the kitchen to wait for one of your friends to come back, knowing one of them would find their way to you.

or so you thought.

someone did definitely make their way to you, but it wasn’t cheol, yuqi, or even chan.

“i didn’t know blackcat carried around a whip,” scooby shot you a cheeky smile while reaching beside you on the counter for a drink.

you smiled, leaning your hip on the counter to face him. “she doesn’t, but cat woman does and she needed me to hold it for her.”

“well… i’m glad she needed you to because it gave me an excuse to talk to you.” you both chuckled, your face getting flushed. he turned, mirroring your position against the counter. “i’m mingyu. i just joined the frat,” he explained rather shy in comparison to his confident demeanor that he approached you with. it was charming.

“well hello mingyu,” you chuckled, chugging the rest of your lemon drop. “i’m y/n. i’m friends with cheol.”

“oh no way! you’re like… his best friend,” he laughs trying his drink. you giggled watching his face contort at the potency of the alcohol. “hey don’t laugh! bleh! but it’s nice to finally meet you.”

“it’s nice to meet you too,” you covered your mouth to snicker a bit more as if that makes it any less “mean”.

once he recovered a moment later, he sat his cup down and spoke up again. “you know, y/n, you make a beautiful blackcat,” he complimented, giving you a once over as respectfully as he could. from the minute he laid eyes on you when yuqi had walked way from you, he knew he had to talk to you. your little whip that didn’t go with your costume was his perfect excuse, and… you looked amazing. that could’ve even been enough of an excuse on its own.

your cheeks grew warm at the compliment with his demeanor and tone. it’d shifted to something more sensual than before. his eyes getting darker, but still soft.

“thank you,” you smiled before reaching up to play with one of his ears. “and you make an adorable puppy.”

his body stiffened, but it was so subtle you almost didn’t notice. you chose to ignore it, moving to his collar. “did minghao make this?” you asked, tilting your head admiring the well recreated scooby dog tag. you pulled on it a little, as if to test its durability, but really you wanted to see if this was doing something to the tall man before you. sure enough, you watched as he swallowed rather hard under your touch. you wouldn’t have noticed had you not been staring at his throat already.

“y-yeah he did. he’s really talented,” he said softly, slightly tilting his head back as you took your finger from the collar, and slowly traced it down his chest that was only covered by a thin, tight brown t-shirt.

“what’s the matter, scooby? cat got your tongue?” you asked in a very playful way, not wanting to come off too strong too fast as you were already mere centimeters away from his body now.

when he looked down at you, his eyes were pleading. desperate. like he was silently begging for you to do something more. he couldn’t find the words to answer your silly question. instead he sent his eyes to scan your face, lingering longer over your lips.

“gyu!” you both jumped back from each other. up pranced soonyoung, but he wasn’t a tiger. “and y/n? hey!” he gave you a hug and you squeezed him back.

“hey soonyoung!” you gathered your composure far quicker than mingyu who was still trying to comprehend what the fuck just happened. “a cowboy this year?” you motioned your hands to his costume.

“had to change it up,” he shrugged. “still got my date, though,” he grinned. you knew it was the stupid plastic skeleton he dragged along every year in the spirit of the holiday.

“well, wherever you set her down, i can imagine she goes way better with this outfit than the tiger onesie,” you both laugh.

“girl… a whip? i don’t think blackcat-“

“shutup, i know. it’s yuqi’s. she’s catwoman.” you deadpanned.

he put his hands up as if to surrender, “got it, no need to use it on me.” you two laughed together again.

mingyu wasn’t enjoying this conversation like you and soonyoung were, however.

he gently grabbed your wrist while patting soonyoung on the shoulder. “excuse us,” were the first words to come out of his mouth in the past couple minutes. it came out low and demanding, an extreme contrast from the state you had him in before soonyoung showed up.

you looked at soonyoung then shrugged your shoulders in confusion and blew him a quick kiss, whip in hand as mingyu pulled you away. “have fun!” he yelled after you both.

“mingyu, where the fuck are we going?” you finally ask as he's pulling you up the stairs.

“my room,” he states bluntly.

“your room? why didn’t you just get ready here then?” your genuine curiosity taking over.

mingyu stopped you both in front of his door. “except for cheol and chan, we all got ready at vernon’s,” he answered very matter of fact, then his eyebrows furrowed remembering what he was doing.

he opened his door, pulling you in with him. once he closed the door, he grabbed you and pushed you against it, hands cupping your face, instantly attacking your lips with his own. your hand naturally found its way to his long, wavy hair while your other rested on his chest. you slightly tugged at his hair, a groan escaping his lips. you smiled and chuckled against his mouth, knowing exactly how this was gonna end, despite his attempts at taking control of the situation.

he ignored your cockiness, moving a hand to the zipper of your top, toying with it just to be a dick. after about 10 seconds of that, you decided it was enough.

“why don’t you be a good puppy and unzip me already,” you pull on his hair hard enough to pull him away this time. his eyes desperately searched yours, not understanding, himself, why every time you called him that, it made him feel weak in his knees.

“o-okay,” he stuttered before unzipping your top the rest of the way. his mouth hung open at the way your tits broke free from the tight latex. “god..” he whispered. eyes still locked on your chest, he tried to speak, “c-can i please-”

“yes,” you breathed, not letting him finish his sentence, knowing exactly what he wanted.

mingyu wasted no time, latching his mouth onto one of your nipples, desperately sucking on the skin as if his life depended on it. a low groan escaped your lips as you finally dropped the whip on the floor, and moved that hand to his back, lightly scratching at him through the thin fabric of his shirt. he moaned against your chest, sending a chill down your spine.

“on your knees,” you demanded. he pulled away from your chest with a rather puzzled expression on his face. “don’t make me say it again,” and with that, he practically dropped to the floor, looking up at you with the most beautiful eyes you’d ever seen. “good boy,” you praised, petting his head between his ears. you walked over to his bed, sitting yourself down at the edge of it.

“come,” you said gently. mingyu started to stand up. “nuh uh,” you stopped him. “on all fours.”

“i- but i-,” he tried to protest, stumbling over his words.

“crawl. or i’ll walk out that door right now,” you threatened.

he immediately got back on his knees, then bent forward, using his arms to help him crawl over to you. he didn’t break eye contact as he made his way to where you sat on his bed, your legs slightly opened. you leaned down, reaching in between your legs for his collar. you hooked two fingers underneath it and pulled him forward. he wrapped his arms around your waist, knees still planted on the floor as he looked at you longingly.

“what a good puppy,” you cooed, moving your hand from his collar to his hair along with your other hand. you petted him right next to his ears on either side of his head. he hummed, tilting his head to the side, you moving your hand so he could rest his face on it. you thought this was just gonna be a typical dom/sub dynamic, but you quickly started realizing that it was far more than that.

you leaned down giving him a soft kiss to his lips, making him crave more. he moved his hands up to your face, pulling you back down. you both hungrily attacked each others lips, breathing in every bit of the other. “what the fuck are you doing to me,” he growled between kisses. to be quite honest, you had no idea either. you didn’t even know this man, really.

“get on the bed,” you demanded, out of breath. he mumbled, “okay,” then stood up and sat in the middle of his bed. “lay down, obviously,” you deadpanned. he felt like an idiot as he laid himself down. he watched you with big eyes as you crawled up his body. you sat yourself on top of him and reached to hook your fingers under his collar again. you used it to pull him up to your level.

“take your stupid shirt off.” he fumbled with the hem of his shirt, lifting it up and over his head. you ripped it from his hands and threw it across the room to god knows where. you pushed him back down, diving after his neck with your mouth. his back arched slightly from the bed as a whimper escaped his lips. as your teeth sunk into his skin, beginning to suck, his chest pressed against yours.

he knew it wasn’t physically possible for him to get closer to your body, but he could try. he was desperate. he craved your warmth. he craved you. a complete stranger. “y/n, please,” he whined.

“please what?” you whispered into his ear, then proceeded to kiss down his neck to his chest. all he could do was make pathetic little noises in response. “cmon, use your words like a good boy, huh?” you cooed looking up at him. you traced your fingers over his large pecs sending chills through his whole body.

“f-fuck,” he threw his head back into the pillow. “fuck me, y/n, please!” he panted, grabbing at the sheets beneath him.

“you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” you teased as you slipped a hand under his pants, grabbing him through his boxers. you couldn’t help the sigh that escaped your mouth when you felt how big he was. he looked down at you with flushed cheeks, embarrassed at how easily he was being turned on by your words alone.

“i- i would love that, y/n,” his eyes were so desperate, so needy. “c-can i take my pants off?” god, he was so obedient. it excited you beyond your own comprehension. before you could even think about it, you hooked your fingers under the waistband of his pants and started shimmying them down his thick, muscular thighs.

“fuck,” you mumbled under your breath. the tent in his boxers was intimidating to say the least. you sat on his thighs as you pulled his cock out, admiring the way it grew even more at your direct touch. mingyu was panting like a bitch underneath you and you hadn't even started stroking him yet. “easy there, big boy,” you giggled at his uneasiness. as you started pumping him with one hand, you used the other to stabilize yourself above him.

a deep groan ripped from his throat as he screwed his eyes shut at the sensation. “does that feel good, puppy?” you asked innocently. mingyu whimpered and looked into your eyes again, mere inches away. he used all his extra strength to push his head up to capture your lips with his. this kiss was far deeper than the others. it felt… more intimate than before.

“please y/n i need you,” he whispered against your lips. honestly, you needed him too, so instead of continuing the torture any longer, you got off the bed to remove your top completely, and took your pants off. before getting back on top of him, you pulled his pants the rest of the way down, then stood at the edge of the bed, gawking.

this man’s body was godly. skin the perfect shade of gold, soft muscle curves, the slight glisten on his skin as the moonlight from the window reflects off of his sweat. and his face… fuck, his face. the way his eyes glisten with lust and need, his lips swollen and slightly parted as he’s nearly drooling, waiting for you to do something, and to top it all off, his puppy ears on his head with the collar on his neck making him all the more irresistible.

you climbed back on top of him, his eyes not leaving yours, whether you were looking back at him or not. he only looked away when you started grinding your soaked cunt against his cock. he watched intensely as your slick coated him from top to bottom, his tip leaking precum each time you slid forward. “ready for me to fuck you, gyu?” you nearly whined out, your hands firmly placed on his chest to balance yourself.

“b-been ready, mo-” he stopped himself. “fuuuck please, y/n, please.” he begged.

“what a good fucking boy you are. don’t even have to ask you to beg.” you lifted yourself, and as if there was a form of telepathy happening, he reached down to lift his cock straight up, ready for you to do nothing but line yourself up and sink down in him. however… you both knew that was going to be painful for you. your nails began to dig lightly into his chest as you slowly sunk yourself down on him. a long string of whimpers falling from your lips while he gripped your hips, helping you steady yourself as you now sat all the way down on his cock. you swiveled your hips a couple times before slowly lifting them and slamming back down onto him without warning. a gasp escaping your own lips.

“ah! Fuck!” mingyu cried out, throwing his head back into the pillows again. the grip he had on your hips only tightened.

you moved your hands to his neck, applying only slight pressure as you started moving up and down on his cock. his breathing became sporadic, and you could feel his veins on his neck starting to bulge under your fingers as you started to pick up your pace. “collar getting too tight?” you breathed.

“n-no,” mingyu choked out. “mmmph~ i like it,” his voice was hoarse, but soft. his hands finally moved from your hips to roam your body. he dragged them up your waist until he was cupping your tits. he started kneading the flesh, licking his lips as he watched your face start to contort with pleasure. you let go of his neck and put your hands on top of his, over your chest.

the scene was so beautiful before him, he was growing more and more impatient, needing to chase his high. you threw your head back crying out a “fuck!” as mingyu started meeting each bounce of yours with a sharp thrust.

“a-am i doing a good job?” he whined, “does it feel good?” all he wanted was your validation and praise.

“y-yes~ fuck- such a good boy for me,” you cooed as stable as possible. you brought a hand down and combed your fingers through his hair right below his puppy ears. his thrusts slowed and so did you. you hadn’t realized how much of the “fucking” was being done by him now instead of you. he hummed and closed his eyes while you ran your fingers through his hair again. both of your movements came to a complete stop. nothing but cockwarming and heavy breaths while you petted the pretty boy beneath you.

once he opened his eyes, you gave him a soft smile and he nestled his face into your hand. looking up at you with those puppy eyes, the next words that came out of his mouth were jarring to say the least. “w-will you sit on my face? please?” you could’ve sworn he batted his lashes too.

you giggled before teasing him, “are you seriously asking to pleasure me right now?”

“no im fucking begging, y/n please.” he whined.

“well, when you beg like such a good boy, how could i tell you no, hm?” you hummed before moving your hands to his headboard, climbing up his body, stabilizing yourself over his face.

he wasted no time trying to attack your core with his tongue, but you didn’t want to let him have it that easily. you moved a hand down to tug at his hair, pulling him off of you. “nuh uh. stick out your tongue,” you demanded.

“w-what?” his eyes were big with uncertainty.

“did i stutter? stick out your tongue and stay like a good puppy.” you spit at him, no patience left in your voice.

so, mingyu did just that. slowly but surely he opened his mouth wide, laying his tongue out for you like the good boy he was.

you lowered yourself back down onto his tongue, slowly moving your soaked cunt back and forth. he just looked up at you with such adoration in his eyes, but tongue out like an absolute idiot. it was driving you crazy.

mingyu was going arguably more crazy, though. he wanted to devour you. taste every single inch of you, and lap up every last drop of your arousal like there was no tomorrow.

you let out a whimper that drove him over the edge, and he couldn’t contain himself anymore. he brought his strong arms up, wrapping them around your thighs, locking you in place on his face. you gripped onto his bed frame tighter as he began to suck on your clit with such vigor, you almost came on the spot.

fuck he’s good at this.

he then started fucking his tongue in and out of you, using his own strength alone to bounce you up and down slightly on the muscle.

“mmph~ fuuuck~ mingyu please, don’t stop,” you pleaded, knuckles white from holding onto his headboard for dear life. who was he to deny you? he moved one of his hands from your thigh to the bundle of nerves above where his tongue was fucking in and out of you. as soon as he started rubbing gentle but fast circles on your clit, you knew you weren’t gonna last long. the familiar knot in your tummy forming far faster than you’d like to admit.

“p-puppy i’m c-close. gonna make me cum,” you half panted, half wailed.

he moved his mouth away to talk, fingers still working on your clit.

“cum for me please baby, cum all over my tongue,” his voice had dropped to a dangerously low tone. he went back to tongue fucking you and your grip on his headboard became so tight you thought you might break it.

“gyu! fuck! i’m- fuck!” a wave of pure euphoria flooded your whole body faster than you could comprehend. mingyu lapped up every last bit of cum dripping from your cunt.

“jesus christ,” you panted.

“okay y/n, all fours.”

“what?” you looked down at mingyu’s big brown eyes in complete shock.

“i- i’m sorry please can i fuck you on all fours?”

“mingyu i’m not worried about how you wanna fuck me-”

“then, please? can i? I’ve been a good boy…”

“you definitely have,” you reassured, moving a piece of his hair out of his face. “i just don’t know if i have the energy for that right now.”

“you don’t have to do anything, just- y/n just let me take care of you…” his voice was so soft and genuine. nothing like you were used to from a hookup.

“fine… then can i just lay on my back?” you both chuckled.

“whatever you want.”

once you guys repositioned yourselves, mingyu on top of you for the first time tonight, you couldn’t help but let your mind race. i could get used to this view… y/n stop it’s just a fucking hookup, you’ll only ever see him again in passing. but his voice… the way he’s speaking to me is so… sweet… so? he’s probably just fucking pussy whipped. and pussy whipped he was, but it wasn’t that simple.

“are you ready, baby?” his eyes scanning yours intently as if to catch any trace of uncertainty that may reside in your eyes.

“y-yes. at least i hope,” you giggled. a fangy smile gracing his face. fuck, his smile.

as mingyu started to push himself into you, you winced at the stretch. it was almost like he’d gotten bigger since you were on top of him earlier. “ah~ fuck gyu,” you whined.

“too much? do you want me to stop?”

“no, no please don’t stop,” you just gripped onto his arms and closed your eyes.

a couple seconds later and he finally bottomed out, causing both of you to let out a string of low moans as you both adjusted to the feeling of his rather fucking huge dick inside of you. (how else was i supposed to word that like c’mon now)

within a minute mingyu was drilling into you at an animalistic pace. the grip you had on his biceps probably close to breaking skin with your nails. your back arched at its limit. both of you sounding like you're in one of the most hardcore pornos ever filmed. the bed creaking, slamming into the wall… you get it.

the rest of the world had completely withered away at this point when suddenly…

BANG BANG BANG! “jesus christ, mingyu! that you in there?” seungcheol… fuck.

mingyu stilled all movement, “uhhh yeah… what do you want?” he dropped his head onto the pillow right next to your head. you couldn’t help but giggle.

“Sorry.. just uh… have you seen y/n?!” he yelled from the other side of the door. mingyu’s head shot up, both of you looking at each other with complete panic in your eyes.

“you could… you could say that i’ve seen her… yeah?” mingyu yelled back, wincing as he awaited his response.

when seuncheol didn’t answer right away, you decided to speak up. “hi cheol…” you said softly but loud enough for him to hear you.

“you’re fucking kidding,” seungcheol scoffed before walking away yelling, “you two fuckbirds have fun!”

you and mingyu just laid there for a second before bursting out laughing.

“okay that was embarrassing,” you covered your face.

“oh don’t act like you didn’t like it,” he grinned, leaning down to start kissing on your neck. “you think i can’t feel how much wetter you got?” he bucked his hips into you without warning, making you yelp. he just chuckled, lifting his head up to look at you again.

your mouth was hung open like an idiot, unsure of how to respond, actually embarrassed now.

“look who’s the tough guy now, huh?” he taunted, beginning to slowly pump in and out of you again. your eyes rolled back into your head and your hands reached for his hair. sensing that the puppy fun would be ending now, you tried to focus your vision enough to unclip the ears from his hair and throw them elsewhere in his room. “oh, are we done with those now?” he asked in such a bitchy tone, you could’ve slapped him back into his submissive state, but you were over the playing now.

“mingyu, just fuck me,” you panted now able to put your hands in his hair how you please.

“that’s no way to get what you want now, gorgeous.”

“mingyu, please just fuck me already!” you whined, wrapping your legs around his torso.

the groan that escaped his lips at that action was inhuman as he sped back up to his pace from before, however, far harder.

“fuck! Mingyu!” you cried out, unable to do or say anything else.

“what? wanted me to f-fuck you, no?” he teased, stopping to lift one of your legs over his shoulder, then removing your mask in one quick motion before pounding into you again. the new angle pushed you to your limit once again, far too fast for your own sanity. “let go for me again baby, i can feel it. you’re c-close aren’t you?” he cooed softly in contrast to his brutal movements. “touch yourself for me,” he breathed.

you moved a hand down to your clit, rubbing away at the bud while your other arm moved to his back, pulling his body closer to yours as you reached your high. the close proximity bringing his clingy self closer to his own breaking point.

now forehead to forehead, the knot in your stomach about to snap, you moved your other hand up to his back, fingertips lightly pressing into the skin. mingyu brought a hand to your neck, holding it gently, but firm as he railed into you for the last few times.

“-m cumming!” you cried, now digging your nails into his back.

“fuck!” he growled at the lovely sting of the scratches you were leaving. your cunt fluttering around his cock however was the final straw. “ah~ baby~” he groaned before crashing his lips into yours as his orgasm hit.

“so… you always have wipes conveniently available on your nightstand?” you giggled, curled up in his arms under his blankets.

“you know, it was actually pure luck,” he started. “cheol did a grocery run today and when he brought me my bag there were a couple of our toiletries and i was gonna go put them in the bathroom bu-”

“hey, gyu?” you looked up at him.

“yeah?”

“shhhhh…” you smiled, placing a soft kiss to his lips before laying your head back down on his chest.

he kissed the top of your head and whispered with a chuckle, “sorry. i talk too much.”

“uh uh just… sleepy,” you yawned.

how you two managed to tune out the party is beyond anyone’s guess. he didn’t have to run his fingers in your hair for a full minute before you knocked out, but he did anyway until he fell asleep himself.

tag list: @skzooluvr @jenoslutie @iluvhoshi @goblynnrockz @map0fthes0ul7 @unlikelysublimekryptonite @actuallynarii @glttrlix @ninigyuuu @starcandybby (i hope that was everyone! i feel like my list got messed up but hopefully it's right!)

#svt smut #kinktober #mingyu smut #mingyu x reader #hanniesluvr

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stxrrkissed · 7 months ago

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── ۶ৎ GREEN WITH ENVY .ᐟ

꣑ꦌ nate archibald x fem!reader ৴ LENGTH 1k

DESCRIPTION when you find jenny at your boyfriend's place, you can’t help the envy feeling build up inside of you.

CONTENT fluff ꣑ jealous!reader ꣑ arguing ꣑ light angst ꣑ suggestive ending.

THOUGHTS my first fic for gossip girl, i'm so excited to post this. i love posting a new fic on this blog, really makes me see my blog is growing especially with how much fandoms i write for. i can't wait for you guys to see the other fics in my wips for the other characters cause this is only the beginning.

𝒾. mlist 𝒾𝒾. previous fic 𝒾𝒾𝒾. prompts 𝒾𝓋. based on this ask

YOU STEP OUT THE ELEVATOR EXCITEDLY, the sound of your high heels filling your ears as you walk deeper into the penthouse.

You’re excited because you were going to surprise your boyfriend, Nate after not seeing him for a little while. Between classes, the two of you haven’t been spending time together as much as you’d like.

Sure, you two will text each other on a daily basis, making sure that you’re both taking care of each other the right way, He would facetime you when he knew you were free but being next to him in person is different, you want to be held in his warm embrace and hear his laugh instead of looking at him through a device.

You come to a halt when you notice when you hear a female voice. “Could Chuck be home?” You thought but that gets shut down when you recognize Nate’s voice. ‘Who might be here with him?’ You question yourself before walking more closer, eyes widen in shock to see Jenny standing in front of him, laughing and blushing at whatever he said.

“Hello? What’s going on here?” You finally spoke, letting them know of your arrival, Jenny first lays eyes on you and you could have sworn her whole mood changes once she sees you, the anger forming inside you once you pick up on what it is.

You were not one person who anyone could fool as you always see right through them, you have been noticing her actions of trying to get close to Nate for a while now, he might be oblivious to it but you weren’t and you are starting to get pissed off.

“Hey baby,” Nate says, a smile appearing on his face as he approaches you, leaning in for a kiss as he misses the feel of your lips on his but once you step back, clearly not wanting a kiss from him, he senses that something is wrong.

“What’s she doing here?” Your eyebrows furrowed together as the anger showcases in your tone, making Nate carry a confused expression on his face wanting to know where this is coming from.

“Don’t worry, I was just leaving,” Jenny spoke, walking past you and not without you seeing the roll of her eyes.

Jenny presses the button to the elevator, keeping the smirk to herself knowing she caused a rift in your relationship so it can be easier to get with Nate later on, she’s almost tempted to stay and listen but she had places to be and made her way into the elevator.

“What was that?” Nate asks, you roll your eyes to him not answering your question, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Answer my question, Nate!”

“She was just seeking comfort, she’s going through stuff. I was just trying to help.” Nate answers but it doesn’t soothe you.

“Why are you being jealous right now?” Nate didn’t understand what was the problem of helping out a friend, you didn’t seem to have a problem before so what could it possibly be other than the mere thought of seeing him with another woman but he never took you as the jealous type as you should know that you were the only girl he had eyes for.

“I’m not jealous. I can tell she likes you. Why is it you that she goes to confide in when she has Eric, who is one of her closest friends?” You question, letting out a heavy sigh as you cross your arms over your chest, looking him directly in his eyes. You really care and love Nate, the thought of losing him was something heavily on your mind especially with you two spending a lot of time apart.

“(Name), she probably didn’t feel safe going to him about it.” You could feel the anger boiling over inside of you as he was not getting it, and wasn't seeing it from your point of view. If you had someone stay the night that he was suspicious of liking you, he would feel some type of way.

“You know what, forget it,” You spit out, turning away from him, heading towards the elevator to leave, not wanting to argue more about it. Before you could even press the button, Nate gently grabs your hand, spinning you to face him. “I thought we promised not to walk away angry at each other?”

You inhale a breath as he’s right, you did agree to not part ways with each other in a bad mood but you couldn’t help but feel this way, you shouldn’t even be getting this worked up about Jenny when she’s no threat to your relationship. “Can we please sit and talk this out?”

“No, I don’t want to talk,” you look anywhere but at him. Nate takes his hand to your chin using his index and point finger to softly move your head up to connect your eyes with his. “Okay, just listen to me then,” he softly speaks, gently placing his hand on your waist and automatically you lean into his touch, you could never resist him.

“Nothing happened last night, she just needed someone to talk to as her home is not a safe space anymore with her arguing with her dad and her fallout with Serena.” Nate explains, pulling you closer to him.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to seem jealous,” you begin. “It’s just we have been spending a lot of time away from each other because of our schedule and I miss you.”

“When I saw her here, I don’t know why but I saw her as a threat to our relationship especially with the way she was all over you, I’m just afraid of the chance I can lose you,” you say, placing your hands on his chest as you look up into his blue eyes. “You have nothing to worry about, I only have eyes for you.

Nate couldn’t lie, seeing you get all jealous worked him up a little, taking the initiative of pulling you in for a kiss, one that’s he’s been yearning for since he saw you, it’s very long and passionate, feeling the same spark y’all felt the very first time you kissed.

“You know, instead of going out to eat. How about we stay here and fool around?” Nate smirks as you let out a strong giggle, letting him lead you to the couch. You were just happy that your relationship wasn’t doomed after all.

#ა 𝙜𝙤𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙥𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙚 . . .ᐟ #nate x reader #gg x reader #nate archibald x reader #gg imagines #gg fic #gg fanfic #gossip girl x reader #gossip girl imagine #gossip girl fanfiction

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bernardsbendystraws · 7 months ago

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Fresh Air

Matt Sturniolo x Reader

Check out my pinned post for more of my writing.

00 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 FINAL

Summary: One night at a party seems to change everything. A strange man with a friendly smile and a sleeve of patchwork tattoos seems to make you feel at home for a change. You're finally happy to have made a good friend to lean on - especially when it comes to your not-so-great relationship with your boyfriend. But what happens if you lean too much...what happens if you fall?

Warnings: 18+. This series contains mature themes, read at your own risk. (SMUT, angst, parental troubles, financial hardships, and more. Don't like, don't read.) This warning is made for all parts.

A/N: To be added to the taglist, send a request in my inbox or comment on the pinned post. I'm far more likely to see requests sent to my inbox.

With love and big tits, Rose.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

05: Building Up Like Waves

I was still in Matt’s hoodie. And under his blankets.

We had gone on a walk and Matt had let me yapp the entire time. He even wanted me to talk the whole car ride too. Wrong turns had made the quick ten minute drive from the park somehow turn into over an hour.

I knew what he was doing.

Those weren’t wrong turns. I doubt he didn’t have any fun stories to catch me up on from the past week, but he didn’t interrupt me once. I couldn’t complain. I felt even better somehow. It wasn’t all being trapped in my head anymore and it didn’t feel so lonely to think about that night.

I didn’t feel lonely at all.

“Hey, where’s my toothbrush?” I ask, shuffling around in the top left drawer of his bathroom vanity. It’s usually here–in the little tray next to his, but it’s empty. I don’t even see his toothbrush.

“Well,” Matt starts. By the tone in his voice my lips already start to curl upward. What is he up to? Anticipation pokes at my skin as I watch him pull something from behind his back while standing in the doorway. “-I got these…”

A break of giggles from my end makes my gut hurt. I feel my hand clutch onto my stomach through the soft, thick fabric of his hoodie.

“Matt–” I snort harder, grabbing the toothbrush packages from his hand. “Why the–”

“For fun!” he exclaims, his hands waving in the air dramatically. His lips smack and part with mischief and pride as he watches me hunch over with laughter again. “--do you,” he snickers, “--do you not like ‘em?” he asks.

Straightening my posture, I place the two small packages on the bathroom counter, my hands flying up and messing up his hair. “Of course I love them you idiot!” I announce, laughing softly as Matt’s hands wrap around my wrists and pull my hands to his chest gently.

“I…” My eyes meet his as he looks up at me with a sparkling joy. His hands hold mine a little tighter as he keeps his gaze pinned on me, his lips pressing gently onto my knuckles as I swallow thickly. “I–”

“You…” Matt interrupts, squinting his eyes with a flourishing excitement as I stammer over my words.

Shaking my head, I let out a sigh of disbelief as I push against his chest, “I can’t believe you got us character themed toothbrushes. The ones they get for kids!”

His chest rumbles with hushed laughter as he twiddles his fingers around my hands. “I know, isn’t it fun though? You said you never got one as a kid,” he says.

I never got one as a kid, I barely even remembered telling him that.

But, he remembered.

He always remembered because he always cared. I didn’t even have to ask for him to care.

What if I hadn’t said yes to Hayden that day? What if Matt and I had…

No.

Bad thoughts.

That’s cheating.

Is this cheating?

“I, um…” I try to retrace my steps as overflowing thoughts flood my brain. It was just a thought. “--I can’t believe you remembered,” I remark, my tone reeking of the tooth-rotting smile covering my face.

I can’t believe he cared enough to remember and do something so minor just to give me that piece of…innocence.

Looking back up, my chest tightens as I feel his gaze pour onto me with intensity. It’s a toothbrush—a fucking toothbrush.

I can feel tears pricking the corner of my eyes with warmth from overwhelming emotions. Happiness with something lingering sadness. I got it now—he thought I deserved to have such a stupid thing—a toothbrush. Why didn’t my parents?

Why didn’t I?

Buying toothpaste always made me a little sad–buying anything always made me a little sad. I saw all the colorful, nostalgic things. The things I never got. It’s not like my family had been broke either. They were just cheap. The other toothbrushes did the same thing. It wasn’t necessary.

But they bought other things. My parents bought fancy cruises, all the luxuries some people dreamed about.

All the luxuries that didn’t really last.

Those trips were only a glimpse of what things could be. Dad would be happy to finally be away from work—one of the few occasions we truly laughed together—not talked, laughed. I couldn’t remember one meaningful conversation with him.

And mom…she was somehow worse.

She stood and watched him step on my innocence, crushing my hopes everytime he ignored me or yelled.

I just wanted her to be there for me—I didn’t realize anything was wrong until a lot later than I should’ve.

Just like now.

This wasn’t right. Hayden had no right to put that kind of pressure on me for sex.

“Hey…are you…are you okay?”

Reality.

I’m here—with Matt. A stupid, Pokemon toothbrush staring at me practically.

“I just—I’m about to cry over a fucking toothbrush,” I exclaim, laughing as a tear falls from my cheek.

“Don’t!” I start, lifting up my hand as I aggressively use the sleeve of the hoodie to brush away the warm tears. “--don’t. This is embarrassing. This isn’t happening,” I joke.

Matt’s head shakes back and forth with humorous disbelief. He cups my cheeks in both his hands, softly wiping the tear stains as I stare up at the ceiling.

“Hey—it’s okay. I…I’m sorry, but it’s funny—it’s cute,” he laughs.

Cute.

He thinks it’s cute?

A blush covers my cheeks before I can stop it. My widened eyes watch as he hunches over with giggles spilling from his lips profusely. Shame paints over my face as I push his hands away and cover my face with my hands.

“Ugh!”

My loud ruff seems to catch his attention. The burn of embarrassment bubbling in the pit of my gut leaves my muscles tensing as I feel his grab my wrist lightly and hold them as if he’s praying.

“No, no—” his eyes pour into mine with apologetic sympathy as he tries to keep a straight face, “--just, let’s brush our teeth and go to bed.”

Nodding in agreement, I watch with a warm heart as he unpackages the toothbrushes. He puts a line of toothpaste on the bristles. With a soft smile, he outreaches it to me.

And I didn’t even have to ask.

Matt smiles at me in the mirror as I swirl the brush along my teeth. It feels refreshing.

__________

The cool night air contrasted with the heat swarming beneath the comforter.

Fuck, it’s hot.

“Mmph, I…”

Oh.

Matt’s hands are clutching into my hips, a hard bulge grinding into my core as my mouth drops wide.

God, it feels like fucking heaven.

The fog of sleep clouding my mind leaves me with nothing but instinct, my own hips swiveling to combat his motions. My head cranes back against his chest, his warm breath tickling behind my ear.

He’s so hard.

Hayden.

Fuck. This is wrong.

This is definitely wrong.

“I…Matt,” I croak, whispering into the air as my hands latch over his wrists.

Silence. Quiet air is only broken by muffled whines vibrating against my neck where his lips hover.

He’s still asleep.

“Doll….-’m…close…”

Doll.

The name he likes to call me.

Only me.

He’s dreaming about me.

Matt’s hips drive faster, rocking and tensing as hard as possible. The blistering warmth crawling in my chest is overwhelming, but intoxicating.

He’s close. So close. The desperate moans, his hands clutching even tighter and pulling me closer—he’s so close.

“Matt, wake—”

My words hitch as his nails dig into my skin, his hips tensing more and more.

Wake him up.

The three-worded chant is clouded by every sensation—his hair tickling my ear, his lips puffing against my neck, and…his hard, clothed cock rutting against the growing heat between my legs.

Nothing like this has ever felt like this.

I can’t think….I can’t stop.

A broken whine echoes from my lips as I feel a warm liquid smother through the thin pajama pants, a lengthened groan stringing from him against my neck. It feels so good.

It feels so good making him feel so good.

Doll. The name he only calls me. He’s thinking of me, holding me. He wants me subconsciously.

Does he want me consciously too?

Hayden. Fuck.

Guilt creeps in as I feel Matt fall limp and unmoving. Even breaths from his chest press against me. The huffed breaths turn into soft snores, the same snore that made it easier to feel at peace.

This is wrong. This is so utterly wrong.

Despite the growing pit in my gut, my eyes lose more and more while trying to fight gravity. It’s just so warm—so intoxicating. It doesn’t feel like anything is wrong when I’m in his arms.

Even the guilt doesn’t compare to the amount of peace.

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foxlorests · 5 days ago

Text

𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐒

CHAPTER TWO: THE REPRISE

♫⋆｡♪ PAIR: Harry Castillo x Younger!Original Female Character

♫⋆｡♪ WC: 6.7k

♫⋆｡♪ CHAPTER TAGS: Age Difference, Slow Burn, Yearning, Fluff, Smut (in later chapters), Soulmates, romcom vibes, billionaire harry, harry learning how to fall in love the human way, nervous harry castillo, pining, emotional vulnerability and all that sweet shi

♫⋆｡♪ CHAPTER SUMMARY: Five years after they met, Harry attended her concert.

Ao3 | Wattpad | Spotify Playlist | Youtube Music Playlist | Poster/Masterlist

Harry Castillo was still not married.

He wasn’t against the idea, not exactly. But he wasn’t in a rush either, and that had been fine for a long time. He liked things that made sense. He liked return on investment. He liked decisions that came after long walks and longer silences. For most of his adult life, marriage had sounded like a kind of liability. Or at best, a negotiation. His mother, of course, saw it the same way. A transaction. She didn’t push—she was too elegant for that—but she was always saying things like, “Don’t wait so long you forget what it’s for.” Sometimes she would ask, “So?” and he’d be expected to say progress. Or, “No one wants to be alone when they’re sick.” As if the whole point of love was to secure a caretaker for your worst-case scenarios.

He could pay someone for that. Probably.

At first, he didn’t take her seriously. He thought he had time. And more than that, he thought he had options. He was successful, composed, a man who knew how to move through a room without stumbling. He dated, casually and then not-so-casually, and when things ended, he never wondered why for very long.

But it started to get to him. The way his brother looked at his now wife. The way the world suddenly had traditions you had to keep up with—holiday dinners, christenings, photos with matching sweaters. He started to wonder if maybe he had missed something. If maybe his mother was right in that subtle, unnerving way she always was.

As a businessman, the answer was simple: pick women who appreciate financial stability. Someone who will be impressed with a couple hundred bucks worth of dinner every night.

So when Lucy came into his life, he thought, this is it. He didn’t fall in love. But he did feel a kind of clarity. She ticked all his boxes, the same way he ticked all of hers. Smart. Grounded. Attractive in the way that ages well. She was pragmatic, emotionally efficient, and rarely sentimental—just like him. She didn’t ask questions she didn’t want honest answers to. She respected boundaries. She’s also easily impressed, which made it easier for Harry. They worked in the same world, spoke the same language: meetings, margins, expansion, sustainability. The relationship felt like a merger with excellent terms. It wasn’t thrilling, but it was reasonable. And he liked reasonable. A reasonable investment is always better than a thrilling one.

They didn’t talk about love often. He assumed that was the point. This wasn’t about drama or passion or whatever ruined people tried to salvage from their twenties. This was about building something stable. Something good. At least that’s what he told himself. Until, of course, it ended. Until the thing that made the most sense became the thing that unraveled. Harry Castillo thought Lucy might be the final, grown-up answer to the question his mother never stopped asking: “Who will take care of you?”

Truthfully, he just liked what she represented. An answer to the question. A working formula. A beautiful, rational equation with clean lines and no jagged edges. They went to dinners. They work well. She looked good on his arm and didn’t get nervous in front of his friends. They could sit in silence without discomfort. That had to mean something, didn’t it?

He remembered telling her once, not long before the end: “You’re exactly what I’ve been looking for.” And he meant it. But what he’d been looking for at the time wasn’t true, gutting love. It wasn’t fire or ache or anything close to wonder. It was something that worked. A system that ran without friction. A calm, competent life partner. It wasn’t “I love you.” It was something like “You’ll do.”

He was sad when they broke up, of course. But he didn’t fall apart. He didn’t get drunk and call her at 2 a.m. He didn’t beg on his knees or lose sleep or spiral. He just went back to work. Took the trip they were supposed to take together alone. Upgraded his sheets. Changed nothing else.

It didn’t even change his routine. Didn’t make his work life harder. He just… continued to live. Because even then, deep down, he’d known he could live without her. And that was the difference.

He tried her matchmaking company after they broke up. He was set up with Gemma. A nice woman in her thirties. She’s an art dealer. He went into the date the same way he went on a date with Lucy: with business in mind. His criteria: someone who he could trust (because isn’t that how you do business? With someone you could trust?) and someone he could respect. Gemma was someone he could respect. Gemma could do business like Lucy, but unfortunately, like Lucy, she also wanted love. He didn’t call after the first date. Didn’t even pick up the phone from the matchmaker.

He didn’t know if he’s capable of love. Not yet, at least. And certainly not with Gemma. Gemma was supposed to be a perfect investment. And you don’t have to be in love with something to invest in it. You just need to know it works.

So after Gemma, he lied to his matchmaker that he found someone else. Organically. Rose, his matchmaker, was upset but she said it made sense. People like him weren’t gonna be in the market for very long. He laughed like it was true. They were nice enough to give him a 80% refund. It didn’t matter, really.

Eventually, he gave up on the idea of marriage. Peter, his brother, had the family name sorted—happy wife, golden retriever, maybe even babies soon. That was enough legacy for the Castillos. Harry told himself he’d be the cool uncle. The one who sent expensive Christmas gifts and taught the kids poker too early.

He could live with that.

Harry had always preferred structure—clear lines, calm offices, espresso over cappuccino, silence over chatter. And when the chaos of life inevitably found its way in—whether in the form of a failed relationship or an overly ambitious intern—he had learned to manage it with professionalism, coolness, and if that didn’t work, expensive liquor.

Emma came in during one of those transitions. He had needed a new assistant, and she had been available. She was in her early thirties. Maybe thirty-three? Had left her dream of becoming an artist to help her husband support her family. He remembered her saying something vague during the interview—fine arts? Theatre? Maybe music theory? He hadn’t listened that closely, to be honest. It hadn’t seemed important. The job wasn’t creative, after all. It was scheduling, logistics, emails, making sure the water bottles were always stacked in the little fridge under his desk.

But Emma did it well. Unobtrusively, efficiently. And, yes, she was the sort of secretary who remembered things like what kind of bagel he preferred after a heavy night out. Everything bagel, warm, no cream cheese on Mondays and Tuesdays. She had shown up one morning, already in office attire—black dress, far from what artsy people look like.

She held out the bagel without comment, then opened his calendar and said, “We need to move the two o’clock. You’ll want a nap before the calls.”

He had blinked at her, still hungover, and realized she’d become indispensable.

He paid her well. He didn’t think about her much beyond that. She was a good assistant. She didn’t make his life messier. She didn’t ask questions when he was late, or when he looked like he hadn’t slept in three days. She knew how to read a room, how to bring him coffee when he was fuming but didn’t want to say so.

On slower days—days like this—he moved through his space like a man wandering the remains of an empire. Half-shaved, robe still hanging loosely, coffee cooling on the desk. Emma was already there, seated at her desk just beyond the open glass divider, typing away, her own mug beside her and classical music playing quietly from her laptop.

It wasn’t unusual. Sometimes she puts on jazz. Sometimes piano. He didn’t mind. It filled the air gently. It softened the sharpness of the city skyline beyond the windows. And then—

He paused. Mid-step, mid-thought, the motion caught in his throat.

She was watching something. A video. And on the screen, there she was.

The cello, the way she moved with it like it was another limb. That impossible grace, unrepeatable in anyone else he’d ever met. And that face—green eyes, a slight smile tugging at the corner of her lips, dimples barely there. Freckles on her neck. Honey blonde hair, pulled back now, neater than he remembered, but unmistakable.

His throat tightened.

Emma hadn’t noticed him. She was lost in whatever it was. He stepped closer, quietly, without even meaning to. Just one word rose in him, like breath held for too long finally escaping.

“Catherine.”

Emma looked at him, brow lifted in genuine curiosity.

“You know classical music?”

“No.” Harry barely glanced at her before his eyes flicked back to the screen. “I know her.”

“You do? People who aren’t into classical music wouldn’t know about composers.”

“She’s a composer? I thought she was a cellist.”

Emma smiled faintly, as if charmed by how clueless he sounded.

“She plays sometimes, but she was always a composer,” said Emma.

He didn’t respond right away. He was listening. Listening the way he had that night in the cabin—when the music hummed under his skin and dared him to remember it. Now, years later, it was back in his chest like a pulled thread. One sound and the whole memory unraveled.

“Catherine Ainsworth,” he murmured, reading the video title aloud.

“She’s one of the youngest composers ever commissioned by the Royal Philharmonic,” Emma said, sliding back in her chair, watching him. “At 25, she had a piece debuted at the Barbican, and another in Vienna. Her music’s this weird thing—elegant, unpretentious. Sort of haunting, sort of joyful.”

Harry smiled quietly at that.

"I’m surprised you know her, really. She composed mostly love songs, not for everyone. Certainly not something I imagine you listening to. It’s always sweet and never too complicated, like she’s not trying to impress anybody with her skills. Where did you hear of her?" Emma asked.

“I didn’t.” He shook his head, still lost in thought. “I met her.”

Emma’s head tilted. “Oh. You know know her.”

The room went soft for a moment. There was a long pause—his pause, really. He leaned on the edge of her desk, looking at nothing.

“We met. About five years ago,” he said finally, his voice low. “She was very young.”

“She’s still young. Twenty-seven,” Emma said, her voice mild.

“Yeah.” He nodded, eyes still fixed somewhere far beyond the window. “That’s young.”

“She’s going to come back to New York in December. A concert. You wanna go see her?”

“I don’t know,” he said quickly—too quickly.

Then, without giving her a chance to prod further, he turned the conversation elsewhere. A safe detour into something about schedules or deadlines or the mess with the Anderson account.

Emma didn’t push. She rarely did. That was something he appreciated about her. She knew how to clock a boundary without making a show of it.

But the thought lingered.

Even when he made calls or sat through meetings with people who talked too long and said too little, Catherine’s name threaded through his mind like a whisper. Not loud, not insistent. Just there.

It came to him in odd flashes—the way her fingers had moved on the cello strings, the way her coat had smelled faintly of cedar and something floral, the way the storm softened when she’d spoken.You’ll need a coat. The memory played like a looped symphony movement, quiet in the background, but impossible to ignore.

And that was new, because Harry rarely lets anything disrupt his routine.

He tried not to let it show. Not in the emails he dictated, or the investor pitch he reviewed. Not even when he watched Emma walk out with her coat, humming something vaguely classical under her breath.

But distraction had a way of making a home. It seeped into the quiet moments. When the office emptied, and the city buzzed below. When he poured himself a drink he didn’t finish. When he stood by the window with nothing in his hands, nothing to do, and everything waiting.

He pushed it down. Like he always did. Folded the thought neatly, tucked it beneath work and habit and his carefully measured life. That was what he had built in the years since forever—a life that made sense on paper. Balanced, professional, manageable. No edges. No typhoons. Until the very end, at least.

He told himself he didn’t want it, not anymore. The whirlwind, the ache, the unpredictability of falling in love. Love—God. Even the word sounded like a marketing scheme these days.

But he wasn’t proud of that version of himself. He was older now. Wiser. Tired.

And maybe a little lonelier than he cared to admit.

It was one morning in December when he saw it. He looked at the screen, a red circle on his calendar. Underneath it, in a font he definitely did not use: 7 PM, Carnegie Hall.

He frowned. “What’s this?”

Emma, sitting on the edge of his office couch, froze like she’d been caught stealing. Then she exhaled. “Oh.” A pause. “I bought you a ticket. For Catherine Ainsworth.”

He stared at her. No words. Just stillness.

She shifted uncomfortably but kept her chin up. “You have to go. It’s my money.”

“I’ll pay you back,” said Harry quickly.

“Go. Consider it a Christmas gift from my husband and I.”

He couldn’t say anything to that. Not without unraveling something. Because Emma didn’t know the weight of that name in his chest. She didn’t know the smell of cedar and drizzle or the way her voice could quiet a room like snowfall. But still—she had known enough, probably from his reactions. Enough to draw the circle. To say go.

And the reason he did not want to go was because of the feeling in the pit of his stomach, something like anticipation. It felt familiar. Like hope.

The days leading up to the concert passed in a strange kind of haze. New York in December was both beautiful and brutal—icy wind on your face one second, holiday lights the next. Fifth Avenue glimmered like a snow globe, and every sidewalk corner had someone selling roasted chestnuts or playing saxophone under twinkling strings of fairy lights. It was a romantic city if you had someone’s hand to hold. He didn’t.

But he didn’t feel alone either. Not in the obvious way.

He thought about canceling the day before. Told himself he had a meeting, that he couldn’t sit through two hours of music without unraveling. But he didn’t cancel.

Instead, he let the day arrive.

He let himself walk into it slowly, like stepping into cold water.

Emma picked a great suit for the evening.She had thought of everything—down to the cufflinks he’d forgotten he owned. She laid it all out on his office couch that morning, like a quiet but firm declaration: You’re going.

He hadn’t said thank you, not out loud. He just looked at her, nodded once, and said, “Remind me what time it starts.”

“I know you know, Harry. You’re not going to be late,” she replied, not looking up from her computer. “I already scheduled the car. It’s in your calendar.”

The car ride was quiet. Just the city humming past. His mind raced, slowed, raced again. He didn’t know why he suddenly told the driver to pull over near a florist on 57th.

He stood outside the small, warmly lit shop for a few seconds, hands deep in his coat pockets, before walking in and asking for a bouquet. “Something simple,” he said.

The florist gave him a look that said every man says that, and put together white ranunculus, some pale eucalyptus, and a few soft roses—not red, not pink, but a washed-out cream, like candlelight.

He didn’t know why he bought it.

He didn’t know if Catherine would want flowers.

He didn’t know if she’d forgotten him entirely—or worse, remembered him only faintly, like a passing storm she once sat through and never thought of again. She might have a man. A husband. A life. She might look at him and smile politely, say thank you, take the flowers and never think of it again.

But he bought them anyway.

He told himself he’d just say hello. Just a word after the concert, in that strange backstage hum of applause and exhaustion. Hand her the flowers, thank her for the music, maybe say I saw you in a storm once, and you’ve never really left my mind, though he probably wouldn’t say it out loud. He’d give her the bouquet, smile, and walk away.

And that would be that.

He’d go back to his life. The office. The schedules. The version of himself he’d been trying so hard to maintain.

He went inside Carnegie Hall as if in a haze. Sat down, as if drunk, not knowing where to look. His back was rigid. He looked around the room and saw how it was mostly couples, enjoying a romantic night out. He smiled at that.

The lights dimmed slowly, like the hush that fell over New York on snow-heavy nights. The crowd at Carnegie Hall settled into silence.

Then she stepped out.

Catherine Ainsworth.

It had been years, and yet Harry recognized her instantly. She had changed, yes. There was a quiet grace to her now, a self-assuredness in the way she walked toward the cello, cradling it like a part of her body. Her once wild, wet hair was swept up neatly, revealing the softness of her face, the light freckles that still danced faintly on her neck. The girl who had offered him a coat was now a woman who commanded an entire room with a glance and a breath. Still green-eyed. Still real. But older. Better.

The small smile on her lips hadn’t changed either. That half-smile, the one that never stretched too far, but tugged at something deep inside him. He remembered it. It was the smile she wore the night she bought soup with a song.

And then she played.

The first piece was a solo—a quiet, yearning composition that began with a single note held long enough to stretch across the years. Harry felt it in his chest. No grandeur. No showing off. Just beauty, unveiled gently and without ego. Effortless. Alive.

He hadn’t known he could still feel things like that. It came uninvited, the smile—slow and real—tugging at his mouth before he realized it. God, it had been a long time.

And he understood, finally, what Emma meant when she called her music romantic.

He watched her fingers dance over the strings—those same dainty fingers he remembered from a memory blurred by storm and scotch.

Harry, who knew music like most people knew algebra—just enough to pass by—was completely disarmed. He didn’t need to understand it. He felt it.

The concert unfolded in movements. After the solo, the orchestra filed in. Catherine returned later—not to perform, but to conduct. She stood at the front like she belonged there, eyes focused, hands lifting, guiding a dozen musicians like it was second nature.

The audience watched with a silence that buzzed. And Harry—he didn’t watch like an audience member. He watched like a man who had just remembered how to live.

She conducted one more piece. Then came another solo—a piano this time. She played with her eyes half closed, and it felt like the sound was pouring from her very lungs.

Harry didn’t blink.

He sat there in the dark, flowers beside him, and let the music do what it had always promised to do: make everything else fall away.

And for just a while, it did.

It started soft—quiet strings, then piano. And there, tucked into the melody like a memory, was a sound that reminded him of home. Not literal bells, but close enough. That kind of jingle they use in old movies—the kind you hear when someone falls in love on a snowy street. It made his chest ache in a way he wasn’t ready for.

He looked down at the program again. Love, in December.

It wasn’t a flashy piece. None of hers were, really. The entire concert had been like that—emotional, but never begging for it. Beautiful, but never loud about being beautiful. She didn’t show off. She didn’t need to. She just played, and that was enough.

People were crying. He caught a few wiping their faces. He watched Catherine through the curtain of applause and could tell she’d been crying too—just a little. But she smiled through it, bowed low. Everyone stood up and gave her a round of applause.

When the light came on, the crowd slowly stood.

He stood too, eventually. Walked out with the rest. But when they veered toward the exit, he didn’t.

He followed the hallway signs to the backstage area.

Of course there was security. A guy at the corridor—stocky, name tag said Hubert—held up a hand to stop him.Harry expected that. He reached into the inside pocket of his coat, pulled out the slick business card. Not the casual one, the serious one, the fancy one. Harry Castillo. He introduced himself with his business voice too, and said something about some opportunities for some of the musicians. Hubert squinted at the name, clearly didn’t recognize it, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that Harry said it like it should be recognized. Like it belonged in the room. And he had a lot of practice with that. The security guy hesitated a second, then stepped aside with a short nod.

He walked past without a word.

He passed a few dressing rooms—most with names taped to the doors, some cracked open to reveal assistants and musicians gathering coats or finishing bottles of water. Some cheering. Laughter.

And then—at the end—her name. Catherine Ainsworth. Typed neatly, taped to a white door.

He stared at it for a beat.

His palms felt hot.

He raised his hand. Knocked once, firm but quiet.

Inside, movement. A pause. Then her voice. Familiar, unmistakable.

“Coming.”

And there he stood. Suit pressed, bouquet in hand, heart stupidly loud in his chest.

She opened the door, and green eyes fell into his.

Her cheeks were still flushed from the stage, a touch of powder barely hiding it. Her hair was up now, pinned and loose in places, elegant without trying. She still had her performance dress on— black silk dress, modest, but it did something with the way she moved. Or maybe it was just her. Grown. Poised. Lovely.

“Harry?”

He smiled. “Hello, Catherine.”

“Oh gosh. How long has it been? I didn’t know you were coming. Please—come in! I’m so sorry it’s messy, I didn’t expect—why didn’t you contact me first? I would’ve gotten you a better seat, somewhere I could see your face and guess what you think.”

She stepped back to let him in. He took a breath and followed, the bouquet light in his hand, but suddenly feeling foolish.

The room was cozy—soft lighting, clothes and makeup scattered in corners, a chair with a coat slung over it, another bouquet sitting forgotten on the counter. There was a faint scent of perfume and roses, warmed by stage sweat and hairspray. Her cello case was still open.

He sat on the edge of the couch while she fussed with tidying, though it didn’t do much. He didn’t mind.

“I almost didn’t come,” he said. “But I’m glad I did. You were… incredible.”

She looked over her shoulder with a quick smile. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

“No, really. It was beautiful. When you played— it felt like something cracked open in me.”

Catherine blinked, then looked down and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You always knew how to say things like that. Like a line from a book.”

He gave a soft laugh.

There was a pause. The kind that wasn’t awkward.

“You never called me,” Harry said, quieter this time. “Or left a message.”

Catherine looked at him, then leaned against the vanity, arms folded.

“Oh, funny story about that. I fell into a puddle. And the card was too wet and it ripped. You should really invest in some high-end business cards. You know, the ones made of metal.”

“Really?” he asked, raising a brow.

“Yeah.” She grinned.

“That’s the best you came up with?”

She laughed. “It’s true! It was a big puddle too. I sprained my ankle and everything.”

“Ah, shit. Sorry.” He leaned forward a little. “Should’ve taken you back. Given you a ride.”

“No, no. It was fine. Managed to get a ride.” She shrugged, then smiled gently. “I still had a fun day, despite it all. The soup, Jim, you, the people I met… it more than made up for it.”

There was a stillness after that. Not tense. Just charged.

Harry’s fingers tapped against his knee. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this relaxed and alert at the same time. Maybe years ago, back home, when he still thought he had a future doing things that mattered. Now it was mostly boardrooms. Deadlines. Deals. People speaking at him, him barely listening.

“Hey,” she said suddenly, straightening up, “you wanna go for a burrito?”

He blinked. “What?”

“There’s a truck I like. Not far. But it’ll be gone in thirty minutes, so we have to hurry. Come with me.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, sure. We’re old friends, aren’t we?” She stood up.

He tilted his head. “I wouldn’t say we’re friends. Still strangers, really.”

“Oh, don’t say that,” she said as she grabbed her coat. “I remember everyone who’s made an impression on me.”

“And I did?” he asked, following her to the door. He noticed the other bouquets still sitting untouched on the counter. Only his was in her hands.

She shooed him out with a grin. “’Course you did. Hold on—” she handed him her scarf, like he was already someone she knows well. She bent, locking the door and Harry couldn’t help but admire her form, for just a moment. “I told you, didn’t I? I’ve always had a soft spot for old men in the rain. Like they’re in a French movie.”

He smirked. “Yeah. I forgot you said that.”

That was a lie. He remembered. Word for word. He thought it was funny because he didn’t look French at all.

They left through the back hallway, her coat slung casually over one arm, the flowers still in his hand.

“Tell everyone I’m going out for dinner,” Catherine called to someone down the hallway.

“Aw, you got a date already, Catie?” the man shouted back.

“Sure do! I’ll see you all at midnight—Jen’s place, yeah? We’re still on.”

There was laughter from down the corridor, and someone called after her—teasing, familiar.

He didn’t plan on asking. He really hadn’t. But the words edged out anyway, like steam from a cracked pipe. “So… it’s a date?”

She didn’t miss a beat. “Only if you want it to be.”

“Sure. It’s a date. But we’re going somewhere after.”

“Only if you drop me off at my friend’s place by midnight.”

“Done.”

It should’ve felt strange—rushed, unexpected, unprofessional, even—but it didn’t. It felt like something that had already begun years ago, paused somewhere between wet clothes and a café table, and picked up again the way only real things could. Without fuss. Without ceremony.

They didn’t talk much on the walk. There wasn’t a need. She led, he followed. He noticed how she kept her hands tucked inside her sleeves, her shoulders relaxed despite the weather.

He didn’t know what scared him more: how easy it was, or how deeply it settled into him. That feeling. That quiet, breathless, inevitable sense that this—whatever this was—wasn’t a spark. It was something else. A match already struck, a flame he’d walked away from once and was now standing in front of again.

He’d dated, of course. Dated well. Dated enough. There had been pretty ones, brilliant ones, ones who challenged him, soothed him, made him laugh. But even at their best, it had always been a climb. Work. Polished versions of himself turning over carefully rehearsed lines. But Catherine—God. Catherine had never asked for any version of him. Even worse, he didn’t have the need to put on a version of himself.

And he remembered—how comfortable it had been the first time. That rain-soaked day. How much of him had stayed with her, tucked away in whatever memory she carried. How she remembered the soup, and Jim, and his card—ruined by a puddle, apparently. A story so absurdly hers, he almost laughed when she told it.

He glanced at her now, walking a few paces ahead.

They ate outside. Not at a table, not at a restaurant—just the side of a food truck wrapped in yellow lights, on a quiet street where the steam from open grates rose like lazy ghosts. She had ordered two burritos, extra hot sauce, and passed him one without asking what he wanted. He took it anyway. It was good. Greasy, hot, and falling apart in the right places.

They stood side by side on the curb like they had done this a thousand times, like they’d done this in another life, another city, another version of themselves. She talked while chewing.

“I always wondered what happened to you,” he said, as they leaned against the side of the truck, warm foil burritos in hand.

“Well I told you what would happen to me.”

“Your studio?”

“Yeah. I have a studio. It’s underground. You wouldn’t know if you weren’t in the arts.”

“Ah, exclusive club?” he asked, biting into the burrito. “How’d you get the money?”

“I have my ways.”

He believed her. Not because it made sense, but because of how she said it—like the details didn’t matter as long as the music still got made. And maybe they didn’t.

She didn’t stop talking when they got into his car. She didn’t even stop to think about how Harry had a driver ready a few feet away, almost like he was trailing them since they left the concert hall. He smiled at how easy it was. Answered all her questions about his life like they were old friends instead of two people who met only hours in total.

The driver took them somewhere not too far—somewhere fancy he liked to go—for just a drink.

He hadn’t expected to like the night this much. He hadn’t expected to feel younger, or older, or anything at all. But he did.

She told him she’d order a Shirley Temple, but when the waiter came, she asked for coffee instead. She said it was because she had to stay awake for the party tonight. He could tell she was tired, though.

He asked, gently, “You sure you want to go? You can rest. I’m sure your colleague would understand.”

“My friends, you mean. I’m sure they will, but I have a big ‘Fear of Missing Out’ disease. You wouldn’t get it. You probably want to miss out.”

He laughed at that, because she was right. It was funny how she knew him. After living the life he had (and a long one at that), parties became boring, friends became few, and the older you get the less you want to waste your time spending it with random people. Somehow, he thought, it wouldn’t be the same for her.

He canceled her coffee when she wasn’t looking and ordered her the Shirley Temple anyway. She sipped it with that little smirk of someone who knew exactly what happened, yet happily drank anyway.

She tapped her foot beneath the table like music was playing somewhere only she could hear.

He didn’t say much for a while. He just watched. And felt. And tried not to let the warmth of the moment scare him the way good things sometimes do.

She had never felt fragile to him—never delicate or breakable. But she did feel real now in a way he hadn’t been ready for before. Real, and within reach. And that was what terrified him. Not the night, or the feeling. But how easy it was to want it again.

It was still only 10:30 when they left and the fancy drink place was long behind them. They ended up back in his car with popcorn in their laps, the kind sold in plastic tubs from a vendor outside a movie theatre. Something childish about it made her laugh. That had been his favorite part of the night so far.

They didn’t need a plan. The city hummed around them, but for once, he didn’t feel like they were in it. It felt like they were just… here. Two people sitting side by side, like they’d done it every Thursday for years.

The conversation drifted.

She asked how long he’d been in private equity now, if he still flew to Zurich every January, if his friend had finally retired like he’d once promised. He said over a decade, yes, and no. He said he focused on acquisitions mostly—real estate, hospitality, infrastructure—though he didn’t touch the spreadsheets anymore. Just the closings. Just the capital.

She asked if he liked it. Just that.

Not "how’s work." Not "how’s business." But do you like it?

He’d been asked that before, of course. At dinners, in passing. But it was always rhetorical. No one ever really wanted an answer. Catherine, though—she just waited. Like he had all the time in the world to figure it out.

So he told her. That he didn’t hate it. That he was good at it. That it paid well. That it was easier than what his brother did, and harder than what people thought. That he was good at it and that’s what matters. He also told her how it distracted him from his boring life. How he liked the stability, and somehow it made him feel in control.

She nodded through all of it. Not like she understood, exactly. But like she thought it made sense that he felt that way. And for some reason, that was enough.

She had already given the driver an address—her friend’s place, he assumed. Some apartment where the music people gathered like moths to the last lamplight of the night. But the car didn’t move.

Somewhere along the way the conversation had started to quiet. A long pause here. A soft sigh there. And somewhere between the story about her audition in Berlin and the one about the pianist who once fainted on stage, she stopped responding.

He turned, and found her asleep. Just like that.

Head tipped against his shoulder, her face relaxed in a way it hadn’t been all night. Hair slipping slightly from its clip. Her breathing even.

Harry didn’t move. Not right away. He just stared ahead, the lights of the city blinking through the glass like distant stars, and let the silence stretch.

It wasn’t that she’d fallen asleep—that part was almost funny. But that he’d talked her there. That she felt safe enough to let her guard down.

When they pulled up in front of her friend's building, just a minute or two before midnight, Harry didn’t have the heart to wake her.

He tried, halfheartedly. Nudged her shoulder, murmured her name. But she barely stirred—only shifted deeper into sleep, like her body had made the decision for her. She’d stayed up for everything else, carried the whole night on sheer momentum, and now it had run out.

So he let her rest. Gently slid his shoulder out from under her head, left her curled up in the corner of the backseat, jacket draped over her legs. For once, the city outside the car didn’t feel hostile. The streetlamp made everything look a little softer. Her building stood tall but not unkind.

He got out and looked around, unsure at first what to do. Then, like fate was a little too on-the-nose tonight, a man walked past with a guitar case strapped to his back. Early thirties maybe, thin, a little dazed-looking—like someone who’d just played a show or left one. Harry asked if he knew the musicians he’s looking for, the apartment number, said he was trying to find a friend’s place.

The guy didn’t even blink.

“Yeah, everyone’s upstairs. Come on, I’ll show you.”

Harry followed him in but stopped at the entrance to the stairwell. Another man, still in a suit, exactly like the concert outfit the orchestra wore a few hours ago, greeted him.

“She’s asleep in the car,” he said, quietly. “I don’t think I can wake her up. It looked like she needed rest.”

The guy nodded, unfazed. “Ah. No worries. She is safe, though, yeah?”

“Safe.” Harry handed over a card—his actual one, with his personal number. “Here. Just in case.”

The man squinted at the card, nodded again. “Cool. Mr… Castillo.”

“Oh, and uh—if you could not mention too much how fun it was tonight,” Harry added, hesitating. “She said she had a big, uh—”

“FOMO?” the guy offered.

Harry blinked. “Sorry?”

“Fear of missing out?”

“Yeah. That.”

The man chuckled. “All right. So you do know her.”

“I do.”

“Okay then. Take care, Mr. Castillo.”

Harry said goodbye, offered one last thank you, and stepped back out into the night.

The car was still idling quietly under the streetlight, warm and sealed away from the hum of the city. Catherine hadn’t moved. She was still curled up in the backseat, one hand tucked under her cheek, lips slightly parted, breathing deep and slow.

He opened the door gently and slid inside beside her, careful not to disturb the quiet. He settled her head on his lap, trying his best to make her comfortable. The driver gave him a look in the rearview mirror—something between curiosity and amusement—but said nothing. Harry thanked him, and made a mental note to ask Emma to give him a raise.

There was something sacred about that moment. Maybe because no one else was watching. Maybe because it didn’t feel like something he’d earned. Her hair spilled across his legs like ink, and her breath was warm against his thigh. He kept a hand hovering near her face, just in case she stirred. She didn’t. Somewhere along the way, his hand patted her hair.

The last time he brought a woman back to his apartment, it was only for sex. And it had been… vastly different. Intentional, sexual, carefully orchestrated. He’d made sure the lights were dimmed just right, that there was a drink ready, that jazz was playing faintly in the background. There had been laughter and flirtation, the smooth exchange of practiced lines and mutual expectations. But this—this was not that. This was Catherine.

When the driver pulled into his building, Harry didn’t think too hard. He didn’t want to. He just slipped one arm under her knees, the other around her back, and lifted.

He carried her inside—not like a friend doing someone a favor, but more like a partner would. Not in the public way, the performance of it. But in a quiet way. Arms around her back and legs, careful not to jostle her. Not a single word said. He kicked the door closed behind him with his heel and moved straight to his bedroom. There wasn’t even a flicker of hesitation.

She weighed less than he expected.

He laid her down, eased her onto the bed like she was something fragile. Removed her shoes, then tucked the blanket over her legs. She shifted again, brow twitching at the change in environment, but never opened her eyes.

Harry stayed there for a long time after. Kneeling beside the bed, just watching her. As if she might disappear if he looked away. As if none of this was real, and she might flicker out like the ghost of some half-forgotten evening. He didn’t touch her. Just watched. Only for a moment.

He got up, pulled off his tie and jacket, and went to sleep on the couch. He didn’t bother with a blanket, but he slept better than he had in months.

A/N: Let me know what you think! Will be updated every week, but might upload twice a week if I feel like it/confident enough to do it.

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ohcorny · 10 months ago

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i reread all of chobits recently as insp for my next TT book and every time i think about some aspect of it all i want to do is rip it open and tear it apart and go "why?". it brings up so many concepts and scenarios within the premise of "what if computers looked like pretty girls" but it doesn't want to commit to saying anything about it or take its own world seriously.

i have a lot to say about chobits. arguably i have more to say about chobits than even chobits wants to say about chobits.

chobits is about sex except it isn't about sex at all. chi's power switch is in her vagina. we're shown images of chi doing sexy things, she gets tricked into doing a strip tease, and two separate men try to finger her and she does her Do Not Touch Me There magic powers thing, and we eventually learn every time she resets from the power button, her memories are erased, so you can't have sex with her without deleting her.

but we never unpack why her reset button is in her vagina, or why it's so important that nobody can ever touch her, or why people's personal computers were built with vaginas in the first place (we never have it confirmed that all persocoms have them, but that two separate men try to touch her there imply it's expected). why do the personal computers shaped like women have vaginas if not to fuck them. as a product, it is expected that you will fuck them*.

*i assume, because the comic never says so!

the man who invented persocoms is the same person who built chi and her sister, and he built them to be daughters for his wife. he put the reset button in chi's vagina. we never find out why. we never get a HINT of why. he built the chobits so they could feel and fall in love, but also built them so they could never fuck. you can extrapolate a reason why a man might build his daughter-androids that way, but the series itself never touches it, and never makes any sort of point about it. it's just presented as an immutable fact that chi can't fuck without it deleting her, as if it was born of happenstance and not a person's choice.

what does that actually say about anything? what is it trying to say about sex? is it about the commodification of female bodies, how once they're used up sexually they're worthless? that if you can't love somebody without fucking them, what good is your love? that love without sex is okay (but also a huge burden and sacrifice a man must accept for the sake of someone else's happiness?)

what does it want to say! chobits is about sex, but it doesn't want to commit to any specific message about sex.

and that's just ONE issue i have with it. there are so many things chobits wants to be about but won't say anything about. it wants to be about the persocoms replacing human connections, we constantly get told 'gee people hang out with persocoms a lot', chitose publishes a whole inexplicable book series about people preferring persocomes to humans. it's to the degree that a prominent character's husband gets So wrapped up in (presumably) fucking his android that he locks his actual wife out of the house, having just straight up forgotten she exists. we don't have anything to say about it though. she falls in love with a new man. the people who hang out with their persocoms too much are all background characters in crowds. we never look at how the rise in persocoms has affected society as a whole.

it wants to be about grief, in the story about the man who marries a persocom and has to watch her slowly degrade until she can't remember him anymore, or the kid whose older sister died and he tried to replace her with a persocom who he dresses up/treats as a maid and lives alone with despite being omega orphaned and 11 years old. but then it's fine. the man who married a persocom gets in a relationship with a high school girl 20 years younger than him (CLAMP!). it's fine! the boy who tried to replace his older sister just accepts that the persocom replacement won't replace her. still treats/dresses her up like a maid and lives alone. is she his legal guardian. i don't know. don't worry about it.

and it wants to be about women, because everything about the story is about women, all the persocoms are women, all the tragedies are wrapped up in the death of a woman, or a woman's heartbreak, or a woman's feelings. but it has fucking nothing to say about women beside look how pretty they are. my boobs are E cup, sempai :) teehee

it makes me insane.

friend @amphiaria put it best as "Unfortunately the story is uninterested in itself" and i can never forgive it for being so aesthetically good, giving us the best design for an android (the ear things are Perfect) and then being So Fucking Bad.

in conclusion:

#chobits

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mayullla · 1 year ago

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Title: He took away his own kind.

Character(s): Kitune (Original Character) Summary: You were a weak yokai, one who was loved by your own followers and you loved them back. Unknown to you tho, a powerful yokai had taken an interest in you and want you to be his. Warnings/tags: Yandere Kitsune x Kitsune!reader(fem), yandere themes, drugging, non-con relationship, manipulation, 5k word count

You had always been a little kinder compared to the other kitsunes, a little more gentle with your followers and the people who believed in you. You were more docile compared to the more mischievous ones. You were a small yokai, recently born compared to those who lived hundreds of years. You had fewer followers than them, with no more than 100, most of them older. Maybe that was why you were more cautious, watching over them rather than teasing them.

You acted almost like a caretaker to them. You were a kitsune with one tail, still young in the eyes of other yokai, yet with just enough power to give a little relief in the lives of those who believed in you. But you didn't lose that mischievous part of yourself. While limited, you often teased the little boy, the son of a widow. You would appear in front of him, playing with him, only to disappear when the mother showed up.

You were the boy's friend, playing with him when he seemed lonely, showing him small things that you could do with magic. The brightening of his face always made you smile. You took care of the people who lived in a small village, and more often than not, they would leave you sweets or food that they made on the windowsill, which you often snacked on.

While yokai could appear in front of humans, they mainly changed their appearances when doing so, which was the same for you, as you hid your tail and ears while chatting with the elderly. You were known to be somewhat mysterious, yet many were still welcoming towards you.

Your personality was different for a kitsune. While you did have some personality traits, it would have still been obvious to any yokai that you were different. It was that personality that made you leave the village just for moments to follow and protect your followers. The child that you grew to care for so much was leaving as his mother wanted to make money in the city.

It was not the first time you had gone to the city, having followed many of your followers before out of curiosity, now mainly out of worry over them as they aged with white hair while you stayed the same.

The two of them planned on going to the city nearest to the village, a place you often visited compared to other places. You followed them, thinking that you would only stay for a moment to see if they reached to the destination safely and found a place to sleep. After a week of travel, they and you stepped into the gates of the city.

Unknown to you, shared eyes watched you from afar, already having noticed your little visit to the city where those served him.

He was the same as you, a kitsune but born longer than you and worshiped by the whole city. Living in the tallest building of the city, canine eyes watched you from far away as he licked his lips. His nine tails swayed softly as if excited and somewhat expectant, seeing you finally come back after what he thought was so long.

It was only by chance that you two had met a few years ago. He was sure that you had already forgotten, but for him, it was just so difficult to forget such a cute lady. Back when he had changed himself into a civilian, he remembered bumping into a lady at a corner of a small shop. You were in disguise too back then, yet for someone as powerful as him, it was easy to identify that you were not human but a yokai kitsune like him. A quick apology and both of you were on your way. He thought he would forget the young kitsune.

Till he saw you again, this time without a disguise yet hidden in the eyes of the humans, watching some travelers, an old couple that wanted to sell their harvest. Your eyes were watching them, both fox ears trained towards them while your tail lightly swayed side to side. On top of the roof of a building you sat, yet you were elegant and sophisticated yet unexpectedly innocent. You were not like what he had expected, though this was his first time actually seeing you, he had his expectations over his own kind after living for hundreds of years.

A lot of kitsunes lacked care over humans, having more selfish desires and thoughts. They thrived off entertainment like mischievous pranks or lust. They were mainly self-centered and greedy, thinking only for themselves. He was the same when he was younger, but as he continued to live, a lot of those interests started to dwindle as he had gotten bored of doing the same thing over and over again.

Instead of focusing on his greed, he created a city of his own that worships the ground he steps on. He had everything in his hands, yet even that quickly grew boring.

He was bored out of his mind, wondering what other entertainment he should search for as he continued to stay in the land. He watched you silently follow the couple, hopping on the roofs of the buildings and making soft taps on the bricks roofs with your wooden slippers.

He didn't follow you and didn't see you again for a few months. He had already forgotten about you as he stared down into the buildings from high up in his tower. He was still bored even after some entertainment with other yokai, wondering what to do, when he saw you again entering the gates. Invisible to the naked eyes of humans, you followed another person who came to the village to trade. The Kitsune had figured out that you had come here following those who believed in you, as many yokai disappear when no humans believe they are real.

Yet he still couldn't make sense of your decisions. Many choose to make more followers and believers, leaving those who already believe, if not with a little scare if they felt generous. Yet you would go out of your way to watch the people who followed you. Truthfully, he would find it dreadful to even think about following a human. They live such slow, boring lives, and it would be painful for him, who craves entertainment, to watch over a person like that.

Yet his eyes would not leave you, picking up a grape from the bowl and tossing it into his mouth. There were many yokais that came here, a place packed with people. While they could stay as long as they didn't cause any huge problems, he personally didn't care much for what they did. The more he watched, the more he realized that he could not help but stare at your eyes. He had met quite a few kitsunes in the past, and many younger kitsunes most of the time didn't really know what they were doing, often showing in their eyes that they were without a goal, while others were mainly obsessed with material things or fame.

Your eyes were different. If he had to pick a word, it would be cute. Your eyes held so much affection towards your followers, caring and concern for their well-being. It was both amusing and entertaining to him that he could not help but watch.

Over the years, he would look forward to your visits. Your cautious eyes, when you finally noticed someone watching, made him excited as he watched you look left and right, wondering. He found your affection wanting, the attention you give towards those you like. He wanted your attention, wanting no more than to tease you some days, wondering how you would react if someone were to take away the people you give all your care to.

Yet his tails could not help but stop for a moment as he watched you. Your ears down nearer to your head while your tail was down, almost as if saddened. There was a smile on your face, still with affectionate eyes, yet they were mixed in with sadness. He could just stare at you, for the first time he had ever seen your face express another emotion other than what was normally seen. Your lovely face as you waved goodbye at the little boy who just for a moment looked back and saw you. The smile that spread on his face as he raised his hand to wave at you.

"Bye bye!!"

His mother had asked him who he was waving at, but the boy didn't answer, instead grinning at her.

As you watched them go, unable to follow them for fear you would not be able to leave if you did so, you stayed still for a moment. When you could not see them in the crowds of people, you took a step back and walked the opposite road, completely unaware of how lustful someone was looking at you.

He adored you. He adored you so much. His precious little tempting fox. Your little saddened face was just so delicious in his eyes, far more compared to your startled expression when you watched one of your older friends suddenly trip on a rock. It drove him insane how cute you were.

He had to have you. He would drag you back to his home and keep you with him like a little wife pet. Your innocence compared to his hundreds of years of knowledge would make it so easy to keep you in his arms, even if you tried to escape. Your crying face would be a delight to see. He wanted to see it. Nothing could get him more aroused than your own tears. He watched you leave, moving when he could not see you anymore, his heart beating like crazy as he continued to think about your lovely innocent expressions, all belonging to him. Touching his face with his cold hand, his long nails lightly digging into his cheeks, he felt how warm they were.

It was soon that you reached your village. The villagers greeted you with smiles on their faces as you tried to greet them back. But it seemed that your sadness may have showed when a grandmother patted you on the back. "There, there, child. You shouldn't be so sad." The grandmother explained that people come and go in the village due to its small inhabitance. "The little boy will remember you and come back one day. But for now, focus on the present. I heard from a friend that you don't have a lover yet! You are a very beautiful soul; you should be searching for one now! Otherwise, it will be too late to have a child of your own!"

“Have a little boy just like that kid, you could adore.”

The grandmother gave more words of comfort, even though you were older than her by a few years, and some of her words were a little much. Even if you were older, you could not help but flush at her words, causing her to laugh.

"Hahaha, you remind me so much of my old friend. We were friends at such a young age, yet she had to move away after I got married. Even she was someone easy to fluster like you." The grandmother told you with a wide smile on her face. "Unfortunately, it is quite difficult to keep in touch, so I don't know how she is doing now, but I hope she is doing well."

You couldn't help but smile at the old lady who was reminiscing about the past. "I think she is doing fine for herself," you said with confidence, which made the grandmother look at you in surprise but burst out laughing again. "She probably is. Probably found someone nice and living her life with 10 kids of her own and 20 grandkids." "I- I am not su-" "Nah, she is too pretty for her own good and has always been the type to care for others. I doubt that the man could not help but give a few more." The old woman cackled again at her own joke as she walked away, waving at you and stating that she had some rice cakes that you and her should eat.

It took some time, the lack of that boyish sound left a hole in your heart, but like any other time, you knew you would heal. Watching over the houses, you noticed some carts coming into the village. Fancy transport carriages; you thought there was someone important visiting here. You couldn't help but become curious as you stepped down to the grassy floor, changing to your disguise as you hid your ears and tail, and drew closer to the stopped carriage. Curiously looking at the servants talking with the mayor of the village, for what you could gather, they seemed to wish to stay here just for a few nights.

The mayor was unsure about the whole situation, as not only was this sudden due to how fancy the carriage was, he wasn't sure if the village had the means to serve the guest, but the servant reassured them that they don't need to do anything.

Walking up to one of the villagers, you asked what was going on. "Ehhh, just some rich man wanting to stay here for a while. Probably a break from traveling, but really it is just too sudden," an uncle answered your question, crossing his hands as he looked judgmentally at the cart when it suddenly opened.

From the cart walked out a very handsome man. Tall with a lean figure and a bit of muscle. He had a smile on his mouth as he walked toward the mayor. "Please do not worry about the service. I know we had come without any prior notice," his voice was deep and velvet as he continued to talk, his narrow eyes staring kindly at the mayor. Even with a smile on his face, there was something intimidating about him. You watched quietly, wondering if this was really okay, but without causing any trouble to anyone here, you couldn't do much.

Silently, you watched the mayor and the travelers go, the old man taking them away to a place where they could rest, leaving behind whispers between the people.

While most didn't care much for the arrived guest and his servants, many of the younger ladies were extremely excited when they saw his face. They talked among themselves about how handsome he was, wondered if he was married, and daydreamed about being picked up by such a man. You didn't care much for such topics. Turning on your heel, you left, deeming that there should not be any problem here. Planning on going back, you stopped and turned around, your eyes widening in caution.

You felt someone watching you.

You turned left and right, searching for them, wondering if it was a yokai that was looking at you, yet you could not find one that had a stare that made your back so heavy and raised the fur on your tail so badly. It wasn't the first time either. Many times you felt that stare when you were in the city, yet you never seemed to find the reason why or from whom it was coming. You thought that here you would not have to experience this, that in your safe haven, unlike the city, you would be able to avoid it.

But you could find nothing, and almost everyone except for the chatting girls was all gone, busy with their own days...

A day passed since those people came. You chose not to bother with them after sneaking in last night to check on them, wondering if they were really good people. As you watched them interact with the head in a kind manner, you decided to leave them be.

On your own, you chose to take on your human form as you watched the villagers care for the fields. Taking a seat on top of a branch of a tall tree in the mountain, you watched from afar. After the boy had left, you had become too bored, feeling solemn, mainly as the child who you were close to had to leave.

You knew that it was bound to happen, yet you could not help but miss the boy. The smaller yokais told you to just take the boy, take him away from the world and to the yokai one and keep him for yourself forever. But not once did you entertain that thought; the idea of taking the boy's life away was horrible in your eyes. His mother was also someone you held affection towards, a kind lady who had invited you to her home many times in the past, even when they barely had much to eat.

You wanted the little one to stay, but you also knew that you could not trap him, yet your heart was sad.

"Hello, there." Your tails and ears almost poofed into view at the voice, your body raising up from its relaxed position as you looked at the back. Under the tree on the side was a man alone, looking at you with a smile on his face. "Ah... sorry, I didn't mean to startle you like that." He looked amused due to your reaction. You tilted your head in wonder as you looked at the man, recognizing him from yesterday as he and his entourage had chosen to stay in the village for a few days.

"Did I scare you?" He asked, raising a brow. You narrowed your eyes a little at him but chose to nod. It wasn't like you could even deny it. "Don't you know it is rude to creep up on someone like that?" Your voice a little snappish as you tried to contain your annoyance at the fact that your alone time had been taken away, and that you were also taken off guard.

Haha... Sorry, I will keep that in mind."

You examined him from head to toe, wearing a yukata and cleanly put, you could not help but stare at his face. His smile and his narrow eyes and sharp features made him look almost like a fox.

"What are you doing? Is the view from there nice?" he asked, and for a moment you thought about whether you should actually continue to talk to him. Not having the heart to decline as the man acted more from harmless mischievousness, you didn't push him away. Instead, you invited him up the tree.

He complimented the view of the place from the tree, stating that he mainly lived in the city, so it had been a long time since he last took the time to relax in the countryside. The topics you chatted between the two of you were mainly surface-level topics, nothing deep, yet hinting at reminiscing the past.

You almost felt seen by him. It was something hard to explain, yet because your lifespan was so much different than that of humans, there was a bit of a gap when it comes to understanding. They would never understand what you feel because they would never live that long.

You didn't count the time, yet as you noticed the sun now in a different position in the sky, you realized that you have been here for a few hours. "I must leave now," you told him, for it wasn't long until you have used a lot of your powers and need to change up.

A frown graced the lips of the man looked beautiful under the sunset. "Ah, that is such a shame. I was enjoying talking to you," he stated, and you could not help but feel the same. "How about we meet again here if you are not busy tomorrow?" He offered.

You looked at him, his smile still with its mischievousness, yet a hand reaching out as a kind gesture. You thought that it would be okay. The loneliness you had in your heart was stilled just for a moment after the boy and his mother left that you could not help it when your mouth and head moved, agreeing to meet him again here at the same time tomorrow.

You met him the next day, the same place. He was sitting on the same spot of the huge tree as he looked at you with a smile, offering tea. The rich flavor that coated your tongue was delicious. The man laughed at your face, teasing you when you asked him why he was laughing.

There was no tension in the air. Time flew too quickly when you became comfortable around him, able to open up your feelings when it usually takes a long time when it comes to others. Almost every day, you met him under that same tree.

"I see our young lady finally fell in love?" The grandmother chuckled when you choked on your tea at her words. Grinning like a cat when you looked embarrassed. "Finally, time you found someone who could take care of you."

"Please don't say that... we are mere... acquaintances," you said hesitantly, unable to call that person a friend nor anything more than that. The old lady laughed again, patting your shoulder. You knew that she understood your feelings but also wanted only the best for you.

"So we are acquaintances?" the voice was too low, too muffled to hear, even for your ears to hear as you glanced at him blinking. He laughed on the other side of the branch, stating that it was nothing.

"I am going to be leaving soon." His words made you snap your head at him, in shock, then realizing what you just did, tried to calm yourself. "Oh..." you said hesitantly, looking away from him. "That... that is unfortunate." You were a little saddened, to be honest, that he was leaving, but it was coming after all. The crew was only resting here and needed to leave at one point.

“Yeah..." He passed you a cup of tea that he had brought again to drink here. Taking the tea, you took a sip of it, yet the flavor wasn't as strong or vibrant as before, dulled by your own feelings as you watched the liquid ripple in your hands. "Some business that I need to get to," he told you as you took another sip of your tea, still feeling your throat parched.

"Oh..." You said again, unsure of what to say. He had told you that he was a merchant travelling and just happened to arrive here at some point.

"Hey..." his voice was hesitant, yet for a silent moment he took a deep breath. "Why... why don't you come with me?"

You looked at him, surprised by his words again. You saw how determined his eyes were as he looked at you. "Please... please come with me! I like you a lot, and I promise I will take care of you if you choose to follow me," the man said, leaning towards your branch with a hand on his heart. "I have a difficult time being around people sometimes outside things related to business, yet with you, I always have fun. You are kind and thoughtful, you care so much about the people here. It is heartwarming to listen. If you want me, I promise I will make you happy."

You leaned away, almost intimidated by his actions. "Huh...? What are you talking about?" You didn't understand at all what he was talking about.

"Please marry me," he told you, finally spilling the words after having a difficult time holding it in. "I will make you the happiest woman alive."

Staring at him and his proposal, you thought about the time for the past few days, the bond that you started to form with him. It was often that within a few days of knowing each other, people tend to marry here.

But words clogged your mouth, unable to leave. While you do treasure the time you spent with this man, the village that you lived in for much longer was still your priority because even if he did understand your feelings, the time you spent with people here had much more value to you.

"I-..." You wanted to decline. After all, you were also a kitsune, a different kind of species compared to him, a human. You wanted to say that when the world suddenly blurred. "I-..." You wanted to get the words out, but dizziness stopped you again.

You saw his eyes, the realization that you planned to reject him, you just needed to bring those words out. "That is…" You didn't know what happened, nor what had caused you to lose all your energy all of a sudden. When the world turned upside down, you felt the wind on your face as you fell from the branch.

How did you become like this?

You thought your sudden fall would hurt yet instead of reaching the grassy floor harshly, you were gently lowered into the arms of another. You tried to open your eyes, wondering who caught you, and saw a man with ears like yours holding you. He was far more handsome than the merchant, but had a more cunning look and a more wicked grin compared to the mischievous smile the merchant had.

You didn't know this person. Your eyes widened as you shoved him away, hopping away from his hold and distancing yourself from him. Your disguise cancelled away as you glared at the yokai, who was the same as you. When did he come so close? How did you not see him? Multiple questions went through your brain as you bared your claws at him. Counting his tails, you knew he was far stronger than you. If he was maybe a three-tail, maybe you would have a chance, but he was triple that.

“Who are you?” You demanded, wondering why he was in your territory.

“Got your little claws out, huh? I am hurt, dear, especially when we had so much fun together these past few days.” He raised his hands, showing that he meant no harm, but you didn't believe it at all, trying to stay away even as the thing in your system continued to cause you to be so tired. “I never met you,” you growled at him.

“Oh? How can you be so sure? I was right beside you, sitting on this tree this whole time.” He raised a brow, a mischievous grin on his lips that was too similar to a certain someone. Your eyes widened as you took a step back. How did you not notice? Why did you even let your guard down?

“You… you lied to me!?” you demanded an answer as the man shook his head, sighing as if your anger was nothing more than a child’s tantrums that he needed to care for. “You would not let me get close to you if I did show my real self,” he talked as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You didn't understand why he did that. Why would a nine tail kitsune take such an interest in you that he would pull a prank like this? But it seems that he was able to read your mind, crossing his arms, his golden eyes watching you. “I have taken an interest in you, my dear. The many years that I watched you visit my place has always been a delight for me, that when you didn't come, I could not help but be a little upset. But it is okay, I will always forgive you.” He took a step closer to you, watching you as you continued to lose strength. “Yet to only watch for so long has its limits, don't you think? When you are so adorable skipping around my own turf, don't you think it would be difficult for me not to get my hands on you? I just thought that maybe you would prefer something romantic.”

“I am hurt, dear, that you would still deny me like that when I went through all that trouble. But it is okay, I will forgive after we fix your habits a little at my shrine.” You growled at him, refusing to follow him, pushing yourself to even stand at this point. “Now, now, you shouldn't push yourself too much. The tea was drugged a little, something I made just for you if you had chosen to be a little naughty. Nothing dangerous, I assure you. All you have to do is just relax, and I will take you home.”

You tried to make a run for it, but your powers were restricted, and when your leg caught your own, you fell to your back. You could not catch yourself, as your energy continued to be sucked away from you. You thought that you would hit the floor again when a pair of arms caught you again. “Tch, tch, my little kit is so weak and clumsy when she is tired, hmm?”

He laughed, golden fox eyes staring at you. You felt something furry touch your cheek, moving your hair away from your face. “Don't worry, dear. I will help you learn how to use your powers well, and you will now be mine and mine alone.”

You tried to move your body, tried to push him away, but it was as if weights were placed on your body, preventing you from moving even just a little. You tried to stay awake, to make sense of all this, yet nothing seemed to work as sleep slowly took you away.

“Don't worry, my dear little fox. You will be my lovely mate, and I will take care of you from now on, okay?”

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